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partycatty · 4 months

Note

you write for mk11 gramps johnny? have serious brain rot for him

if so could you write a fic of him dicking us down for being a brat? u can make up a plot or not i just need it and need him. love ur writing either way!!

- 💙

alright, im using this ask but i have a very specific image for this rn. this is gonna be a meaty post so hear me out

older!johnny cage > waste ur time

this is based off of the song WasteUrTime by Kevin Walkman with some lyrics (in pink) sprinkled in. you and johnny have a clear age gap, trying to avoid giving into desires, but 3am rolls around and you consider the idea of having a late night visitor.

warnings: smutty, age gap, ur both horny demons, virgin reader, i dont know how military ranks work, affair, sonya never gets Rocked

notes: this is going to be a little more artsy that what i usually do, so apologies if the format change is not ideal. this is more of an actual fic than bullet points. also the lyrics are out of order and not all included, so you don't need the song to enjoy this!

word count: 2.6k

[ masterlist ]

give me a glass of your innocence.

training was hard, your skin glistening with sweat and your face flushed from overexertion. the task was relatively simple; to climb up a deeply sloped wooden platform using nothing but your grip and momentum. your comrades were cheering you on, including briggs, commander cage, her mother, and her father. straining yourself to grip the ledge of the platform, you finally hoist yourself up and stand upright, not before doubling over to pant.

the others applaud and surround you with cheers. a firm hand finds its place square on your back, rubbing in circles.

"atta girl," the voice leans into your ear with an audible grin. "knew you had it in you."

your head turns to thank the disconnected voice, but out of your fuzzy mind, the realization pulls through that none other than your superior, johnny cage was the one congratulating you so intimately. his praise makes your cheeks flush even darker and your gaze averts, too afraid of such direct appreciation which johnny notes. you weren't used to compliments.

this is my creation, here's your invitation.

you knew something intense was brewing with each lingering stare or gentle squeeze to your shoulder. how intense exactly, you couldn't pick out. with minimal experience with others lusting for you, it didn't register in your head at first just how hungrily he gazed at you. not that you were complaining necessarily, he was part-time action star, part-time military leader. he was built, charismatic, and a family man. it felt impossible to not feel weak in the knees around him.

johnny knew he had an effect on you, as he did most others. despite watering down his hollywood charisma, he couldn't bring himself to deny how sexy he was at his older age. something about a buff salt and pepper man telling you what to do had you following commands like a dog, doing anything it takes to have him praise you more.

even still, you couldn't do anything about it. johnny was a married man. his family was your coworkers, hell, it was their job to command you! the guilty thoughts would creep up on you no matter how badly you wanted to avoid them. couldn't you have chosen a more... single man?

you seem so damn nervous.

"how can i be of service?" johnny asks, leaning his front half forward ever so slightly to show you he was interested in every word that dripped from your lips. your vision was too blurred from anxiety to properly articulate what you needed from him, so you nervously swirled your drink. damn the special forces and their free alcohol parties.

"how do you do it?" you ask with a stammer. "earthrealm, netherrealm, tarkatans, ninjas, thunder gods. it all feels so unreal. how do you stay so calm?"

"mm," he hums, lowering his own glass after a brief sip. "well, you get used to it. turns out i was born to a mediterranean war cult's gene pool. watched my daughter kick an elder god's ass while i got maggots down my throat. went face-to-face with younger me. there are just some things that are too damn ridiculous to ever fully understand, so i accept it for what it is. when you're my age, fighting for all of these otherworldly things, most of the little things feel like a walk in the park."

"don't get me wrong, sir, i'll fight for earthrealm, but this is all so... dizzying."

johnny visibly tenses up at 'sir.' "tell you what," he grabs his drink napkin and opens a sharpie with his teeth. "you ever wanna talk about it with someone that's seen everything, you come to me." he writes his personal phone number on the napkin and places it in your palm with a smile.

you fidget with the paper before pocketing it, worried you'd pick at it too much and rip it to shreds before you could save the digits. the most you could bring yourself to do was half-bow, half-nod before scurrying away to the bathroom to cool your hot face. johnny could only chuckle to himself with a shake of his head.

long walks of shame look so good on you.

a long time was spent staring at the new conversation on your phone. despite your inexperience, there was a simmering feeling that johnny didn't just give you his number to let you vent. he wanted to talk to you outside of work. the thought makes you sweat.

why would he want to talk to you? if he wanted conversation, he would reach out to his wife and kid. he had it all, and yet he still wanted to put everything on the line for you.

you're moving fast, and i'm into it.

"lieutenant. it's reader," you shoot a simple text out, lying to yourself when you justify texting him for the sake of him saving your number. it was late, too late to be texting your superior. another lie you told yourself: i'll just send the message now so he sees it in the morning! your shameful justifications are ripped from you when you receive a reply, almost immediately.

"couldn't it have waited until the morning?" he replies bluntly, and you're ready to type out a spew of apologies before a second text comes through. "i'm teasing. johnny, by the way. no need for titles."

"sorry." you try to remain professional with your response, fingers dancing wildly across your keyboard. your eyes flicker up to the clock in the top corner, realizing it's well into the night. "didn't expect a response so late. have a good night, lieutenant."

you're ready to throw your phone out of the nearest window out of sheer embarrassment, but you stop when you feel another buzz come through. your stomach flips.

"johnny. you usually stay up late?" he texts, drawing the conversation out much to your surprise. "it's 3:30 in the morning."

"my day's been so boring," you decide to lean into the more casual chat, hoping to find a softer side to your boss. you should feel disgusted, repulsed, put off. he was double your age and then some. but dear god, his attention on you was hypnotizing even if it was just words on a screen. "hoping to waste some time before tomorrow comes. lots of training."

johnny's reply takes a suspiciously long time to come through, his bubble appearing and disappearing. just before you thought you lost the conversation, a photo comes through. johnny's laying in bed, hair ruffled and shirtless. his eyes have a soft, pleading look to them and his lips are curled into a pretty smile. the tiniest glimpse of his chest tattoo pokes through the bottom of the image, and you had to make a conscious effort to swallow your drool and close your jaw. you almost don't notice the text attached.

"maybe i could waste your time?"

you choke on your saliva, glancing off to the corner of your room as if an invisible camera was perched there. this man held zero shame, that much was true. you suppose it's from his age. there's only so much time in one life, so he's seizing every moment. it terrified you, to the depths of your core.

"i don't follow," you text back, playing dumb. this was genuinely unbelievable to you, you needed to hear more from his perspective to make sure you weren't actually dreaming or reading too far into his offer.

"come on, girl," he teasingly responds. "don't play dumb. i may be old, but i'm still sharp." another photo slides into the chat, the same idea s his previous one but now fully displaying his torso. his broad chest with his name painted on it was now boldly on display. his hand laid flirtatiously on his abs, fingers spread out. at the very bottom, you could make out the beginning of a thick tent in his pajama pants. it was like every inch of this man was maximized. you'd seen his shirtless form in his old movies, but seeing it now... it was personal. that photo was for you. "i know you're still fucking with me. i see how you look at me." you bite your lip, wondering if maybe sonya was sharing the other side of the bed. your stomach churns.

"i mean..." you leave the text at that, rapidly typing and deleting. you're not quite sure what to say, how to carry this now heated conversation. you'd never... had to before. "if i may state the obvious, you're... older. and my boss. and married."

his replies stop for a good couple minutes. you wonder if maybe he was regretting his advance. you hoped not.

"is it something that you'd mind?" johnny asks, hesitation in his words as he breaks away from his flirty comments. his question makes you ponder. you were a virgin at your age, holding onto this trait longer than almost everyone at a similar age to you. work was your priority, never giving yourself enough time for a serious commitment. but here you were. johnny was throwing something onto the table that you never expected to happen. were you going to pass this up and stay a virgin forever? hell, no!

"sent you my location. let's try something new, lieutenant."

"johnny." he corrects you one final time before falling completely silent on his end. your stomach twists and churns wildly, realizing you have opened the flood gates to a hookup with your boss. you throw your pajamas off and replace them with a cuter, coordinating pair. you brush your teeth again and try to fix your hair into a neater updo, not impacted by the friction of your pillowcase. shoes and various discarded belongings are shoved under the bed and into the closet. you hadn't had male company, well, ever. you had to come off as somewhat decent for him.

jesus christ, your mind grows dizzy. you were going to lose your virginity, now, or in however long it takes for him to arrive at you apartment. you're not far from work, and even still the time it took for you to hear footsteps in the hallway must have been a century at the minimum. you were seriously going through with this because it was about damn time you enjoyed yourself and spiced shit up.

the heavy footsteps come to a halt, the shadow overtaking the faint hallway light glowing. a part of you wants to hide, maybe jump out of your fire exit. your nerves were blinding, and taking the steps to the entrance felt like an olympic sport. that is, until a new text appears.

"let me inside."

do you open the door? leaning against it, you can smell his musk just through the crack alone. damn his hypnotic... everything. if you open the door, his entire career, marriage, and life could be over. that is, if you spill. you wouldn't.

keeping shit a secret fits you like a glove.

you slowly open the door, hand frozen on the doorknob as you're met with your boss towering over you with a heavy look in his eyes. it's hard to avoid his own hesitation too, but his hard breathing betrays his morals. he looks ready to pounce at any given moment. johnny's mouth opens first, but you beat him to it.

"i'm a virgin," you blurt, mind too empty to feel embarrassed at the fact. you felt the need to tell him now, before he was on top of you and you laid there like a fool.

johnny's brows raise up ever so slightly. "what?"

the heat of the admittance catches up to you, and you twiddle with the hem of your shorts. you repeat yourself meekly, letting the predicament set in between the two of you.

"that's..." he trails off, glancing into your room. "um."

"i'm sorry-" your face heats up, your eyes pricking with tears at the awkward air. "i just... i didn't want you to be surprised, because i don't know what i'm doing."

something new stirs in johnny's core as he understands the weight of the situation. his fists clench and he takes a lumbering step toward you. you back up on instinct.

"that's alright," he purrs, voice hitting a new low, one that's far away from his professional volume. "'cause i'll take care of you. i've got you."

he stands up straight, scratching the back of his neck.

"if you'll have me... i guess that speaks for itself. i'm here, aren't i?"

you nod with a nervous chuckle. your bodies move in sync as you figure out where to put your hands. they settle on his neck, wrapping your arms around him to pull him in. his hands hold your waist. jesus, his hands are big. you'd kissed before, so this is familiar territory.

"i'll take that as a yes," his eyes flick to your lips, visibly restraining himself from fully taking advantage of you. he leans in for a tender kiss, your lips and his moving together. it turns heated quick, with his tongue darting out to get a taste of your mouth which you accept gratefully.

johnny's hands trail down to your ass, cupping the underside as if his hands were destined to fit there. he tugs upward, and you understand what he's trying to do. you jump up and break the kiss momentarily so your legs trap his waist. in between make out sessions, you guide him through your apartment to the bedroom. his lips taste bitter like alcohol but cleanly sweet. exactly how you imagined.

your mind is hazy with lust, your pussy clenching around nothing as you envision taking a monster like him for the first time. a part of you wonders if it's even possible. instead of throwing you onto the mattress, he lowers you like a princess, supporting your head and back with each hand which does nothing to help your aching wetness pooling between your legs.

johnny's lips dive to your jaw, sucking and biting tenderly. you wince, but replace the noise with a lustful gasp as he soothes the pain with his hot tongue. you want to clench your thighs together to relieve the throbbing pressure, but johnny's hands pry your legs open as his hips fit perfectly between them. like a forbidden puzzle piece. you feel his cock rub through your pajamas, and your mouth gathers drool.

johnny finds any possible plush flesh of your neck to take in, kissing wetly as he gently ruts into you, not even realizing he's doing it. he needed to explore every inch of this new body, this new lover... his mistress.

if you were to start praying for forgiveness, it'd be now. you internally cursed sonya for getting her hands on him before you could. your chest burned with jealousy and desire. he was so evilly delicious, and every inch of him needed to be inside before you'd start sobbing. your hands fly forward and tug him forward by his waistband.

"need you," is the most you can coherently ask for, blinded by your horniness. johnny pulls away from your collar, panting in your face. he can't bring himself to look directly in your eyes, your wet, pleading eyes.

"you..." he swallows thickly, brows knitting together. he frowns. "you can't tell anyone. you know that, right?''

you nod with a small whine. you wanted him to just shut up and fuck you.

"hhh - won't say anything," you huff back, gliding your dampened bottoms across his dick with need. he groans, and buries his head in your neck, a deep sigh sending goosebumps across you skin.

"atta girl..."

so hit me up when you feel down i'll make your ass stay 'til sundown i understand what you've been through 'cause I'm a sorry sucker too i know you're scared and that's alright just let me love you for the night

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage smut #mk11 #mortal kombat smut #marley writes ☆

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bangchansgirlsblog · 6 months

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Ouchie

It happened so quickly. Hyunjin found himself facing an unexpected challenge. He had sustained an injury during a particularly intense rehearsal for the VMA’s. It left not just physical pain but also emotional ripples that extended to the closest person in his life—the ninth member, his girlfriend, Y/n.

He was trying to do a flip off of I.N’s back about once Y/n had walked in he lost concentration and lost his balance causing him to fall on his ankle badly.

As the news of Hyunjin's injury spread within the group, concern and support poured in. The boys, bound by a deep sense of camaraderie, rallied around their injured member. However, within this sea of well-wishing voices, Y/n found herself grappling with an overwhelming sense of guilt.

In the quiet moments that followed the accident, Y/n, her heart heavy with a sense of responsibility, hesitated to approach him. Fear clung to her like a shadow, whispering irrational thoughts that she was somehow the cause of his injury. The once effortless connection between them now felt fragile, and the fear of unintentionally causing him harm loomed large in her mind.

One day, as Hyunjin, determined to bounce back from the injury, navigated through physical therapy, he noticed the subtle distance that had crept into his interactions with her. Her hesitance to touch him, the cautious glances, and the unspoken anxiety were impossible to ignore.

"Baby, can we talk?" Hyunjin implored, his voice a mix of vulnerability and frustration, as he gently grabbed her hand.

Y/n on the other hand, her gaze averted, pulled away. "I... I don't want to hurt you accidentally. I'm scared, Hyunjin."

Hyunjin, sensing the magnitude of her apprehension, furrowed his brows. "Scared? You've been avoiding me, and I don't understand why. I need you with me during this, not distant."

Tears welled up in her eyes as she struggled to articulate her fears. "What if I was the reason you got hurt? What if I distract you, and something worse happens?"

Hyunjin, taken aback by her words, held her gaze with a mixture of confusion and concern. "What are you talking about? You didn't cause my injury. Accidents happen, and it's not your fault."

Despite Hyunjin's reassurances, she couldn't shake off the irrational guilt that clung to her. In a desperate attempt to protect him, she distanced herself, inadvertently creating a barrier between them.

Recognizing the complexity of the situation, Chan, the wise leader of Stray Kids, observed the dynamics between Hyunjin and her. Sensing an underlying issue, he decided to intervene, understanding that communication was key to resolving their emotional tangle.

One evening, as they all gathered in the shared space of their dorm, Chan approached her with a gentle smile. "Mind if we talk for a bit?"

She nodded, a mix of apprehension and curiosity in her eyes. Chan guided her to a quieter corner, away from the watchful eyes of the group.

"Something seems off between you and Hyunjin," Chan began, his voice a soothing melody. "Mind sharing what's going on?"

The ninth member, her emotions bubbling beneath the surface, hesitated before speaking. "I'm scared, Chan. I'm scared that I caused Hyunjin's injury, that my presence might distract him, and he'll get hurt again."

Chan, his gaze warm and understanding, took a moment to absorb her words. "Hyunjin cares about you deeply. He wouldn't want you to carry this burden. Let me help you understand that you're not to blame."

Tears welled up in her eyes as she tried to articulate the irrational fears that had taken root in her mind. Chan, with a calm presence, patiently listened, allowing her to unpack the emotional baggage that had been weighing her down.

"Sometimes accidents happen, and they're beyond anyone's control," Chan reassured her. "Hyunjin needs your support, not your distance. It's important to communicate and navigate through these emotions together."

Encouraged by Chan's words, she found herself opening up about the irrational fears that had fueled her distancing from Hyunjin. Chan, with empathy and wisdom, gently guided her toward a more balanced perspective.

"You care about Hyunjin, and that's evident in your concern. But you need to understand that accidents aren't caused by love or distraction. They're unfortunate events that happen in the course of our lives," Chan explained. "Hyunjin doesn't blame you, and he needs you by his side, not pushed away."

Feeling a sense of clarity and comfort, the ninth member nodded. "I just... I don't want to be the reason for his pain. It scares me."

Chan, with a reassuring smile, placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Fear is natural, but don't let it control you. Talk to Hyunjin. Share your feelings with him. He loves you, and he wants to face these challenges together."

Armed with Chan's words of wisdom, Y/n approached the impending conversation with a newfound sense of courage. Later that evening, as Stray Kids gathered for a meal, she found herself seeking a quiet moment with Hyunjin.

"Hyunjin, we need to talk," she began, her voice a mix of vulnerability and determination.

Hyunjin, sensing the seriousness of her tone, nodded and guided her to a more secluded corner. "What's going on?"

Taking a deep breath, she looked into his eyes. "I've been scared. Scared that I might have caused your injury, that my presence might distract you and lead to something worse."

Hyunjin, his expression softening, gently cupped her face. "Listen to me, it's not your fault. Accidents happen, and I don't blame you. I need you with me during this, not pushing me away."

Her eyes filling with tears, finally allowed herself to be vulnerable. She shared the irrational fears that had haunted her, the weight of guilt that had driven a wedge between them.

Hyunjin, listening with compassion, wiped away her tears. "I understand your fears, but we face challenges together. You're not a distraction; you're my strength. Don't carry this burden alone. We're a team, okay?"

Embraced by Hyunjin's understanding and reassurance, she felt a sense of relief. The emotional barricade that had separated them began to crumble, making way for a renewed connection.

Later that night, as they all gathered for a practice session, the dynamics within the group had shifted. Their relationship , once tested by emotional tension, now resonated with a shared understanding of vulnerability and support.

Chan, observing the positive change, smiled as he watched Hyunjin and Y/n interact. The unspoken fears had given way to open communication, reinforcing the bond that defined Stray Kids not just as a musical group but as a family of friends navigating the complexities of life together.

The injury that had initially cast a shadow over Hyunjin and his girlfriend's relationship became a testament to the strength that emerged when love, understanding, and open communication prevailed. The stage, once a battleground.

#skz imagines #skz comfort #skz x reader #skz angst #skz drabbles #skz fluff #skz stay #skz x y/n #skz x you #skz hyunjin #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyujin imagines

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ronearoundblindly · 2 months

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Dirty Water

Steve Rogers x deep sea mermaid!Reader

Prompt from this dirty ask game with our pairing from the Sun, Salt, and Shield series.

Summary: After a very long (but unofficial) courtship, where Steve is too shy to bring up your anatomy and his compatibility, a cultural misinterpretation quite literally sinks his resolve.

Warnings for smut (I'm gonna have to call this what it is and just say it's monster-f**king, or the one where Steeb gets maybe-CNC-boinked by a 'monster.' Sorry, babes. Ro's dipped a toe into the darkside for a smidge.) MINORS DNI. Poorly--or rather, not--edited and I have no idea the word count...

Steve swallows harshly and tries not to nervously splash his feet in the pool.

"What?" he chokes out.

He can't think of anything more articulate to say, not that it would matter when so much is lost in translation.

All you did was ask about the singing outside the doors of your 'room'--the retrofitted gym pool at the Avengers compound, the one is the basement without windows for your highly sensitive eyes--but he...could never have predicted why you were so curious.

"They're just enjoying themselves," he'd chuckled, shrugging like it was no big deal. "Do you sing?"

The look on your face, jaw slack and head tilting in contemplation, it should have warned him. You unfurled from your relaxed posture, the stance where your arms cross behind your back and fit atop the swell of your--he'd say tail, but it's more like your ass--rump, the rest of your body bent in a curve until your fin nearly touches the surface, and inched closer to his feet in the deep end.

"Yessssss," you hissed slowly through three rows of sharp teeth, crawling up his legs, out of the water, dripping over his lap as you braced large, webbed hands on either side of his hips.

Even in the very low light of damp room, he could see the lavender of your stare drop to his crotch.

"You sing too?"

Steve's an idiot. He didn't understand yet, so that dumbass actually began humming 'You Are My Sunshine' because nothing else occurred to him.

Then he noticed your tail glowing beneath the scales.

Then he realized you were pressing yourself to his legs.

Aaaand then Steve Rogers looked down your body to witness his knee disappearing in a spongy spot where the armoring swelled apart.

Oh god.

"What?" he now asks like an frightened teen seeing boobs for the first time.

"I make you sing?" Your broad green lips turn up in a smile. "Show me."

Suddenly, Steve's forgotten more english than you've learned. "Huh?"

Your flowing, textured hair, shapely even out of the water, sways when you cock your head to the side, looking through your lashes at him.

"How Stevie sing?"

He shivers for the first time in the cool water and lets an involuntary grunt leave his lips.

He's tried to stop himself from imagining your body and how it works to...ya know, and how he might...oh god, he's going to hell, but apparently, you've already been imagining that humans are either masturbating or fucking outside your door at all hours all the time--

--and oh shit, that means you sing as a part of sex.

He turns his head to the almost black ceiling and fails to think of anything else as the light from your body reflects in waves on every wall. He whimpers when he feels a ripple of muscle through the wet cotton of his jeans.

"Doll make Stevie sing?" Your voice is hoarse, and just as quickly as you say that by his throat, you flip back into the water. You can only breathe air for so long without hurting your throat and lungs.

He thinks he's off the hook, praying the tightness in his pants dissipates faster than they'll take to dry, but he lowers his head to find you peeking from the water, intent as ever on learning his ways.

He should be ashamed, so very fucking ashamed, of how badly he wants to take himself out of his pants and watch the wonder of those pretty eyes as he comes at the thought of you, but Steve's drowning in the hope that he can have you. It's been so long that he's wanted this, even in the most innocent ways.

Your final plea bubbles to the surface.

"Show?"

Steve inhales sharply, running a hand through his hair and licking his lips.

This is wrong, he thinks. You should not be doing this.

Yet he does it anyway because he wants to; he wants to so badly.

He sits up straight at the edge of the concrete, popping the button of his jeans and aches as he lowers the zipper. He can't meet your eye while he pulls out his semi-hard cock and fists it harshly.

You're so long that even looking away leaves your shimmering tail in sight, and he thinks he sees you rattle in excitement. It makes him shiver again, and the vibration shakes the moan escaping his tight chest.

Yikes, it does sound a bit like he's singing...

What the hell are you even doing?

Of course, he knows he's touching himself and he knows well enough how to do that, but he shouldn't be doing this in front of you, much less enjoying it. His blood is running so hot beneath his skin, though, the chilly pool feels soothing over his shins where he rolled up his pants (to no avail).

The heat floods his veins and mind to the point rational thought quiets, and Steve's eyes slither up your demure form.

Your eyes get wider and wider the more noise he makes, and his rampant imagination feeds off the sight of that gap in your scales visible as it undulates in the refraction beneath his feet.

He leans his head back and closes his own eyes at just the wrong moment.

Mid-whine, he misses the splashing sound that would have warned him you were coming, and instead Steve is pummeled by the end of your tail and topples into the pool, shocked and sputtering salty water until his body is pinned to the flat of the concrete wall he used to be perch on.

As he scrambles to toss his arms over the ledge, he feels claws dragging his jeans farther down his legs, and the fabric hangs like an anchor while the silky-slick webbing of your fingers glides up and down his thighs.

Then your tongue runs the length of his cock, making Steve moan embarrassingly loud and thrust his hips forward. If he weren't in the water, he'd be a puddle.

Pleasure races up and down his spine, fighting for dominance over the feeling of cold when he slips from the ledge and submerges briefly.

He barely registers the loss of your tongue and your quick lap of swimming before you're backing into him again.

It's on your ass, too, the soft entrance like you rubbed against his knee, but he could not have imagined what it could do--what you could do--how you could manipulate your muscles inside your tail.

He has no brainpower left to describe it. Steve just lets go, trusting your body to hold his weight as one hand grips the mossy softness of your waist and the other hand spreads over your lower back. Out of instinct, he tries to get leverage to push himself in and out of you, but that's useless.

There's a strong ripple of muscle that pulls him in, and in, and in, delicately tight on his sensitive cock and wide enough to slowly suck his balls into the massaging cavern.

Steve's eyes roll far into his head. He's going to pass out if this keeps up.

"Doll," he gasps, but it's too quiet in the slosh of the water. "Please, I'm--"

A clear, high note crescendos from the deep below, something disturbingly pure and paralyzing, and Steve can't move. He can only feel and experience a siren's song in action.

His body twitches violently before his cum is milked sensually, desperately, methodically from his cradled and ravaged pelvis, and never in Steve's long life has he ever been so fucking spent.

He whimpers when your cunt releases him, only faintly aware that he's propped on your back by his elbows as you swim to the shallow end and let him 'stand' on his shaky legs.

The screeching hinge of the door startles him.

"Cap," the junior agent yells over your hiss from the bright light spraying in, "everything okay? I heard..."

Yeah, I couldn't describe it either, Steve thinks.

He spits water from his mouth. "Fine," he huffs back, "we were...singing, and I fell in."

"Oh. Alright. Sorry to disturb you, Miss G." The man nods his apology at your hand-covered eyes and leaves.

Steve can't help but laugh like an insane person, laying to properly float in the water, uncaring what you're up to until he gently hits the stairs leading out of the pool.

Your head rises out of the water hopefully, and he cups your cheeks, still chuckling. He has zero words to describe...anything at the moment, but he can show you a human tradition of affection in return.

Shifting as easily as a feather in the water, he pulls you two together and sweetly presses his salmon lips to your seaweed pout, letting your long locs fall over his own shoulders.

Soon, he's gasping for air again, yet just before you dunk below the surface, you grin and coo at him.

"Stevie sings lovely."

[Main Masterlist; Dirty Asks Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

what...the hell have i done. *hits post before final two braincells protest*

@fandom-has-taken-me-hostage @leah2901 @blogbog710 @supraveng @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @late-to-the-party-81 @rogersbarber @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @jamneuromain

#dirty asks #ask game #sun salt and shield series #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfic #tw monsterfucking #deep sea mermaid #mermaid!reader #mermaid au #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #fantasy au #i do not have any idea how to properly tag this HALP

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year

Note

Dear author, if you are taking requests can I please get you an extremely rough and wild nsfw with jealous possessive Daemon x fem reader, where he makes her ride it into oblivion (add whatever kink you see fit) please?

Here you go, my friend. I hope this pleases you.

Warnings: Mention of injury, jealous and possessive behaviour, choking, spitting, smut. Word count: ~1100

Daemon’s mood is foul. His temper flares the moment he sees her place her favour onto the lance of that Lannister cunt. While their coupling isn’t public knowledge, she should know better than to entertain the attention of other men, lesser men.

The urge to jump the tilt and storm his way into the ladies court in order to seize her and remind her of who she belongs to is almost overwhelming. He knows he cannot though, so instead sets his sights keenly on his opponent as he sits atop his horse at the opposite end of the tiltyard. The red and gold of the Lannister caparison serves only to further his irritation. The sight of her wreath of flowers dangling from the base of the other man’s lance spurs him into action as he urges his horse to charge forward.

He notices the Lannister swing his lance slightly off target as he canters to meet him, an indication that he is experiencing difficulties and does not want to be hit. Daemon ignores this, striking him square in the breast plate with the tip of his weapon and causing him to fall from his horse with a sickening thud.

The horse master rushes towards the counter tilt. “He requested a mercy pass, Your Highness!”

Daemon lifts his helmet, watching with a smirk as the ground crew rally to help the Lannister Lord to his feet. “Did he now? How careless of me.”

He is badly winded and it is determined that his arret and grapper were not properly attached. The resulting blow from Daemon has likely broken his ribs and he will be unable to continue with the tourney.

Daemon dismounts from his horse with smug satisfaction and strides away from the tiltyard, but not before shooting her a pointed glare over his shoulder. The flicker of fearful recognition that crosses her face is all he needs to know she understands exactly what’s required of her. Don't keep me waiting.

He is stripped of his garniture and reclining in his quarters in his undershirt and breeches when he hears the timid knock at his chamber door.

“Come in.” He instructs flatly.

She enters, head bowed, a look of shy apprehension crosses her features. He feels a swell of pride at her obedience, she’d come just as soon as she could, just like he wanted. Such a shame he’s going to have to punish her for her brazen display at the tourney.

She stands before him, her hands clasped nervously in front of her, waiting for him to speak. He lets her linger in silence for a few moments, enjoying watching her squirm with discomfort. When she finally dares to look up and meet his eye he speaks.

“Have you grown tired of our arrangement?” He asks coldly.

“N-no!” She stammers, stepping forward, her eyes pleading.

He holds up a hand to stop her and she freezes in place, her mouth opening and closing as she struggles to articulate what it is that she wants to say.

“Have you forgotten who it is you belong to?” His gaze is piercing as he glares at her from where he is seated.

“Of course I haven’t.” Her voice is meek and apologetic.

“Then tell me, little one, why the fuck you thought it was acceptable to give your favour to that Lannister cunt?!” His voice raises in anger as he interrogates her, his grip on the arms of the chair causing his knuckles to turn white.

Her lip trembles and for a moment he is sure she will cry, until her jaw sets in bratty defiance. “I couldn’t very well say no, could I?!” She snaps back, face hot with her own fury. “What would you have me do instead? You insist upon keeping me a secret!”

Incensed with rage he reaches forward, grabbing her forcefully by the wrist and pulling her into his lap. “Don’t you ever talk back to me, fucking brat!”

She squeals as he manhandles her to straddle him, forcing her skirts above her hips and tearing away the gusset of her smallclothes, before unlacing his breeches.

“You need a reminder of who it is you answer to.” He threatens.

His hand moves between her legs and she whimpers, bucking against him. He hums appreciatively at how slick with arousal she is already. Wanton slut.

He pulls his hand away, spitting into his palm and then spreading it through her folds and over his cock. Lining himself up with her entrance, he thrusts upwards, pulling her harshly downward with a steadying hand on her hip.

The stretch feels impossibly tight around him and he groans at the sudden warmth and wetness, delighting in the way she gasps and clutches desperately at his shoulders.

“Not so eager to answer back now you’re stuffed full of my cock, are you?” He snarls, his grip on her hip tightens, using it to aid his movements up into her. His other hand moves to wrap around her throat, squeezing at the sides. “Look at me.”

Her eyes are wide, her face reddening from the restricted blood flow as she whimpers at the brutal pace he has set.

“You are mine, do you understand? Mine.” His fingertips press deeper into the flesh of her neck.

She does her best to nod, clenching around him as he continues to drive up into her over and over.

“Say it.” He hisses, brow furrowing with exertion, stones aching at the way she convulses with each movement.

“I-I am yours.” She stutters breathlessly.

“And could that Lannister twat fuck you like this?” He punctuates his question by tugging her harder and faster against him.

“Just you, only you…” The words tumble from her lips like a chant as her eyes grow glassy.

“Don’t look away.” Daemon orders in a husky whisper.

The only sounds in the room are their combined pants and the slap of flesh on flesh, until finally the heat of his climax licks along his spine and through his balls, he pulls her flush against him as he empties himself inside of her.

She collapses against him and he holds her to his chest as he recovers, stroking his hands softly up and down her back.

“You know,” He says, after a few minutes pass by in silence, “We needn’t keep this a secret forever. I could make you my wife.”

He feels her smile against the scarred flesh of his neck. “Are you saying you love me, Daemon Targaryen?”

He chuckles, delivering a playful swat to her backside. “Don’t push your luck.”

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teyamsatan · 1 year

Text

Cruel Summer | Chapter II: Before It Sinks In

Pairings: Neteyam x (f)Human!Reader

Word Count: 5.5k words

Warnings/notes: angst, allusions to/mentions of smut, friends-with-benefits, mutual pining, 18+ minors DNI

Synopsis: After the Sully kids get attacked by the newly found Recombinant Soldiers, Jake makes the tough decision to leave the Omatikaya. Neteyam is forced to say goodbye to you, to your relationship and to the life he always dreamed about.

A/N: So I decided to split what was originally supposed to be one chapter into two, and this way I get to make good use of the amazing song that @karma-is-a-cat-purringinmylap was amazing enough to turn me on to, that just happened to work like a glove (the first non TS song in my works!!!)! I think I will try sticking to shorter chapters, as I feel 10k chapter might be a a bit overwhelming overall. Now, did this chapter make me cry several times? Yes. Will it make you cry? I'm hoping you will tell me soon ;)

enjoy besties ily xoxo

: ̗̀➛ listen to Before It Sinks In here : ̗̀➛ masterlist (x) : ̗̀➛ series masterlist (x)

Suspended in the air, I hear myself breathing

Hanging by a thread, my heart is barely beating

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

Neteyam watched as you ran towards the lake that he wanted so badly to show you, he was practically buzzing by the time he got to Hell’s Gate. He found this little spot accidentally a few days ago while on a hunt, and it’s been on his mind ever since, exuberant at the thought of you in it, at the thought of your face splitting in a wide smile and your eyes widening taking it all in. He thought of the little squeal you would make as you saw the waterfall and way you’d jump off his back immediately and make your way without thinking of your clothes, or the mask, or anything else. The scene unfolding in front of him was exactly the way he pictured it, a testament to how long you’ve been in each other’s lives, how well he knew every facet of your being, like you were just an extension of his own self, like you were a complicated poem he’s dedicated his whole life deciphering and could now recite by heart, could now dissect it and appreciate it endlessly, to its full potential.

You didn’t look back as you just hurriedly made your way to the edge of the water, taking off pieces of clothing as you did, until you were in a lace thong and bra, that Neteyam has seen multiple times before. He could see it every day, every minute of the day, it could be tattooed on his eyeballs and it would still not stop the way his mouth instantly filled with saliva and his head felt dizzy from all the blood travelling downwards. You were the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid his eyes on. Actually, beautiful did nothing to describe you. Beautiful had nothing on you. Neteyam wished he was more articulate at times like this, he wishes he would have read all the hundreds of books residing in the big library in Hell’s Gate where you loved to spend your time, in order to find the proper word to describe you. In order to validate his postulation that there was, in fact, not a single word in all of the English language, or Na’vi, for that matter, to encapsulate what you meant to him, how he viewed you.

A splashing noise is all he heard as you jumped quietly in the water, and he followed suit, a little concerned when you wouldn’t resurface, until it dawned on him you could breathe underwater with the mask on. When you did resurface, you were standing right underneath the waterfall, the biggest smile in the world plastered on your face, and Neteyam couldn’t help his own that blossomed like how the flowers in the morning bloom did, like how his love for you did.

Neteyam couldn’t remember his life before this. Before tangled bodies and insurmountable pleasures. He couldn’t remember who he had been, what used to occupy his mind and thoughts, what feelings, middling and insignificant, used to plague him before your being took over everything, over every second of every day, over every dream and nightmare, over the past, present and future. Neteyam knew he fucked up. Knew that he lied to you that day, when he told you he wouldn’t fall in love with you. Because he did, he fell like from a distance so far removed he could no longer see the ground. And yet, Neteyam knew the ground was there, and that gravity was pushing him towards it, and that whilst the fall was freeing and exhilarating now, while now it felt like flying, once it ended, it would crush all his bones, and his spirit, and his soul.

“This might be the best thing you’ve ever shown me!” You were screaming loudly, trying to be heard above the booming noise of the waterfall crashing down in deafening roars, and he laughed at how enthusiastic you seemed, how wild and free. You’ve always been like that, Neteyam mused. You kept to yourself in the labs, and in the village, around the scientists and other people, around his mother and the clan - but when you were around people you loved, people you were comfortable with, you were uninhibited and unconfined to expectations, and fears and limitations, at liberty to be yourself, to shine brighter than any star in the sky.

“What are you doing over there, Teyam? You know I don’t like to be kept waiting!”

He shook his head, but said nothing as he removed his cummerbund and knife belt and dove in the warm water, swimming until he reached you. As soon as he did, your arms and legs encircled him like they always tended to, automatically and without thought.

You looked in his eyes, and the glimmer in it made Neteyam’s mind freeze and go blank, made his heart thump in his chest and sweat pool on his skin, that was promptly washed away by the undulating water.

“I want to kiss you.” Neteyam couldn’t help the words coming out of his mouth, a confession and a plea all in one, a futile one in the face of untouchable facts, such as the fact being without your mask will kill you.

You smiled and placed a soft hand on his face, tracing his lips gently, and he shuddered under the touch. “I want to kiss you, too.”

“Thank you, Teyam. This is beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like it, ma Vol. As soon as I saw it, I knew I had to bring you here. It was the only thing on my mind, the thought of you and m-“ Neteyam realised his mouth was running faster than his mind could keep up, a rare occurrence in his life, but fairly common in your presence.

Your eyes were wide and full of surprise, and fear started creeping on your face, unannounced and unwelcome, although not completely unexpected. He shouldn’t have said that. Every time things got a little too… intimate between the two of you, any time either of you pushed the boundaries that you both established, boundaries that you needed to abide by above all, it took a while to fall back into step, to get things back to normal, to mutually forget and pretend it never happened. He didn’t want that to happen again. Things were going great for you two, and he didn’t want to lose any time with you, any time he could be loving you instead, any time he could be making you writhe underneath him, any time at all.

“I - I just meant… you know… I -“

Your slender fingers found his lips again and at the small pressure you put on them, he stopped talking. Your eyes softened and your surprised expression melted into one of muted happiness, of unspoken affection, of forbidden feelings.

“I know.”

You spent hours swimming and giggling, splashing water at each other, enjoying how, when both submerged, the difference between you didn’t seem that extreme, the discrepancy in your bodies and your heights nothing that couldn’t be promptly overcome. You talked until your lungs were running out of breath and your voices hoarse, just catching up and discussing everything that’s been going on since you hadn’t seen each other.

Right behind a waterfall stood a layered rock formation, which happened to allow for perfect positioning so that, when sat on it, your and Neteyam’s faces were at the same level. You smirked as you slipped your finger in the band of his loincloth and tugged at it until he took the hint and got closer to you. He didn’t have time to protest you taking off your mask recklessly and smashing your lips against his, a kiss so passionate and deep, it pushed any rational thought out of his mind and replaced it with desire and a tingling ache, one that he knew too well, one that seemed ever-present around you.

“Vol..” he tried to speak against your lips, but you just shook your head and deepened the kiss, pushing your tongue past his lips until it met his, entangling in a suave dance until you were panting and heaving against him. He tsked annoyed at your foolhardiness, and watched patiently while you fastened to mask on yourself again and took deep, settling breaths.

“You take my breath away… get it?” You laughed and then laughed some more at how unamused he was. “Come on, it’s funny.”

“You putting your life in danger foolishly is not funny to me.”

You smirked and shrugged indifferently. “Well, not everyone gets my sophisticated sense of humour.”

“God, I hate this mask.”

Neteyam knew how much you hated it. He hated it, too. He’d give anything to be able to kiss you freely, to caress your face, to feel your lips and your soft skin, to see your eyes reflecting the colours of the nature surrounding you instead of a piece of glass doing it instead. Fortunately, Neteyam always knew how to cheer you up.

“Vol…” he started, voice so low and soft it was almost purring. His long fingers traced your beautiful body, and each freckle adorning it, until he reached your panties, that he skilfully pulled down your thighs, until you were hanging on to them by an ankle. “Just because you can’t kiss my lips, doesn’t mean I can’t kiss yours.”

Neteyam watched as your upper body leaned backwards until your back hit the rock wall, pushing your head back and closing your eyes in anticipation. Your hand found its way to his hair, that you grasped tightly and pushed him down, and he laughed at your already needy and disheveled demeanour. “You know, Teyam? You’re definitely the bestest friend a girl could ever ask for.”

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

I haven't fallen yet, but I feel it comin'

Tell me would it be too much to ask, if you break it to me gently

“What?” Neteyam could hardly believe his ears, could hardly believe that the words coming out of his dad’s mouth were his current reality, and not a nightmare his mind concocted to make him ill, to keep him awake until his eyes started burning in his skull.

“We are leaving. Tomorrow.”

Neteyam watched in pain as Tuk cried silently and immediately felt the pang of fraternal instincts kick in, urging him to pick her up and hold her close in his arms, let her cry it out in the crook of his neck.

“But why, daddy? I don’t want to leave.”

His dad’s stiff posture melted at his daughter’s words, that he could never resist. His eyes softened and he sighed, taking his mother’s hand in his.

“Because we are in danger, baby girl. We now know the humans brought Avatars with them, that they brought the best soldiers back to life to hunt and kill me. And they will stop at nothing to do it, including hurting you.”

The only thought spiralling violently in Neteyam’s mind, as usual, was you. His heart was pounding aggressively in his chest, the increased heart rate making his ears hurt and his head dizzy. What did this mean? How would leave? Just the family? What about you and Spider? You were family to him, and to the rest of the Sullys. Maybe not to his mother, but even she would never want anything bad to happen to you. If you did come, would you make it in another clan? Would they ever accept two humans as one of their own? The Omatikaya barely did, and you have been part of their lives for 19 years. What if you didn’t come? He couldn’t leave you. He couldn’t lose you. What was he supposed to do?

No. No, he couldn’t leave. He wouldn’t leave. He wouldn’t leave you, he promised you, he promised himself. No matter what would ever happen in this life or the next, Neteyam knew you were the only constant he cared about, the only person he wanted to take with him and keep for the rest of time. He would tell his father no. For the first time in his life, Neteyam would tell his father no.

“Kids, I can’t risk putting you in danger. I can’t risk putting the Omatikaya in danger once more, leading them to war. I have too much to lose.” His eyes flickered to his mother, that was sobbing silently by his side, but tried to keep it together for her family and be brave, have a strong heart.

“We have too much to lose. If we go, we can keep them safe. The clan…” His father looked intently at his kids, eyes focused on Kiri and Neteyam. “…The humans.”

The humans…

Leaving would protect the humans. Leaving would protect you.

I'm waking the next day, without you beside me

And who I hold on to today, tomorrow will just be a memory

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

You and Neteyam’s friendship had a lot of boundaries, for good measure. It was necessary when you were doing things normally reserved for couples, or mates, when you were doing things to each other that no one else would approve of, or understand. One of the rules of the game was that you wouldn’t sleep together. You used to, when you were younger, but that was when your relationship was platonic, back when things were… normal. Now, you thought sleeping together and cuddling would be too intimate, too inappropriate, and it would lead to feelings, feelings you were trying to avoid, feelings which might get in the way of the harmless fun you were having, feelings which might make everything… complicated. It was all just fun. Just fun.

That being said, as it turns out, you were both really bad at following your own self-imposed rules, and so it didn’t take too long for you to break them all.

Deep, satisfied pants were all that could be heard in the big recreation centre that Neteyam knew by heart by now. It was dark, his freckles the only light that reflected in your eyes, the only light you needed.

“Well, we’re definitely getting better at that.” you said with a small chuckle. That might have been the understatement of the century, but you didn’t want to scare him by telling him that if it was up to you, you’d have him tied in this room with a chain only loose enough so that he could do this 24/7, but just tight enough so he’d never leave.

You were laying with your head on his chest, as you always seemed to after a long and exhausting session. You loved the feel of his smooth, muscular body, that, despite your size difference, was somehow the most comfortable pillow you’ve ever slept on.

“I’m exhausted. I feel like you and Lo’ak forget sometimes that me and Spider aren’t Na’vi, and yet you work us like we are.”

“Stop complaining, Vol. I need you to be strong and agile, ok? I need to know you’re safe and that you can take care of yourself despite this tiny frail body you possess.”

You raised an eyebrow and scoffed annoyedly, mumbling mostly to yourself.

“Didn’t see you complain about my ‘tiny, frail body’ 20 minutes ago when you were fu-“

“Stop, Vol. You know what I mean. The humans are going to be back at some point, we both know that. And you spend too much time in this place, with your experiments and your books and your shows. I know you don’t like being in the village, and I know that my mother and the villagers give you a hard time sometimes, but at least when we go tracking, or hunting, or practicing, I want you there. I need to know you’re safe, ok?”

He stopped talking, and he sighed deeply, tightening his grip on your body. When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper, laced with intense emotion.

“I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.”

You nuzzled your face in his chest and mirrored his grip on you, smiling softly at his concern and his words, that ran shivers down your spine and fluttered butterfly wings in your stomach.

“The worst thing that could ever happen to me is losing you, Teyam. Everything else, I will handle like the big girl I am.”

He kissed the top of your head, and you stood like that for a while, enjoying the comfortable silence. The thought of this moment ending hurt you deeply, so much so, you couldn’t fathom it. So you decided not to.

“Don’t go. You’re comfortable and I’m cold, and my room seems uninviting by comparison.”

He chuckled imperceptibly. “You love your room, ma Vol. You’ve written songs about how much you love your bed.”

“I love you, more.”

He sighed once more, but pulled you closer and settled down for the night. “I love you most.”

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

I would look back at all of this and wonder why I stayed in here

Just to watch you disappear

When Neteyam reached your room in the lab complex, his heart was in his throat and his knees were wobbly, and he was almost reminiscent of his Uniltaron and how the worm made him feel, like he wasn’t there anymore, not fully. Like he could see his body from outside itself, like his was mind watching everything unfold from a safe distance. His movements felt robotic and untethered, no thought outside of how was he supposed to do this? How was he supposed to leave you? How was he supposed to tell you that it’s over, that maybe you won’t lose him to another woman but you still will lose him nonetheless. Neteyam was trying to think which one was better. In a sea of two impossible choices, two unhappy endings, two roads reaching the same endpoint, which one was the lesser evil? And was there ever a third path? Was it ever possible, for you and him… a happy ending?

He used to think so, used to hope so. Used to love the daydreams and nights picturing it, so clear and vivid in his mind, it was like it was all unfolding in front of his eyes. You, tall and blue, laughing like you always did, taking your Iknimaya. The two of you, riding from dusk til dawn, discovering secret coves and falling asleep on green moss, where he would be able to kiss you freely, where he would be able to link to your thoughts and feelings and know that this was it, his most formidable desire come alive. His family, your family, carefree and happy, full of kids' laughter and formidable first steps, full of joy and love, full of him and you. That's all he's ever wanted. A family with the woman he loved. Not the woman he was promised to, not whichever new one they'd have to find for him in the Metkayina, the woman he loved. The only one.

But now, as he was standing in this room, that he may never see again, listening to the shower that he knew you were currently in, the dream feels further away than it ever has, further each minute, until it was slowly fading from view, so dim and dwindling, until it was gone from his life, gone from his mind, forever. Until only hurt existed, only the gaping hole left behind by your absence, by all the shattered dreams and the shards of broken hearts, his own and the one he knew he'd break tonight.

The anxiety that burned every part of his body also made his tail jerk violently in every direction, and he was pulled out of his nightmare by the sound of trinkets getting thrown on the ground.

“Shit.”

Neteyam thought he’d have more time. Hoped that he could gather himself and his thoughts, hoped he would formulate a plan in the few minutes you would still be in the shower. He knew you would have heard it, so he knew he didn’t have that luxury anymore. He still didn’t know how he could ever make the words come out. How he could ever go through with this.

As he kneeled on the floor to collect the broken vase that was now a fitting image of his soul, he heard the door to the bathroom open, but his eyes remained fixated on the task at hand, unable to look in your eyes, whose memory, whose incandescent beauty would haunt Neteyam for life. He tried to speak past the overbearing lump in his throat.

"Sorry. I wish I could control my tail better, but it's always an accident waiting to happen in these tight rooms."

The silence that befell the room was stifling and suffocating, and Neteyam felt the gaping hole enlarge, felt it taking over his entire chest, seeping into every ounce of his body, spreading like wildfire.

When you did speak, Neteyam almost wished you didn't. Because your voice did nothing to improve his condition, but worked as a perfect catalyst for further breakage, further pain. It was sad, and muted. It was disappointed. It was everything he never wanted your voice to be like when directed at him.

"Why are you here, Neteyam?"

"What do you mean why I am here? I can't be here?"

Neteyam spoke without thinking. He felt adrenaline taking over him, his body knowing he wouldn't be able to do this without the emboldenment given to him in this moment.

"You can, you just never are anymore."

“Vol… come on. You know it’s different now than it was in the village, in Hell’s gate. We’re going to get caught.”

“Yeah, well, we wouldn’t want to get caught. God forbid anybody knows you fuck me in your free time.”

“Vol…”

Neteyam didn't understand why he was fighting you about something so trivial. It didn't matter. None of this mattered. None of this mattered, and yet, Neteyam felt compelled to speak his truth. No matter what form it came in.

“I know you’re upset about today. I’m sorry.”

“Why would I be upset about today? You did what you had to do. I mean, she’s going to be your mate soon, right? It’s her hands that should be healing you anyway, not mine. Those are going to scar, by the way.”

Neteyam hated to admit it, because he fancied himself a good person, a person who is respectful and caring and conscientious, but he couldn't have cared less about her if he tried. In fact, his engagement being broken might be the only silver lining in the sea of black dread. He only cared about you. In fact, the distance, and the tension, and the silence and the pain, it was too much. He needed to feel you. If this was his last day with you, he'd be damned if he spent it not feeling your body, and your warmth, not looking in your eyes.

You were so easy to manoeuvre on the bed, it would have been laughable under any other circumstances. Not tonight. When he got on top of you, and felt your bare thighs touching his, and your hand wrapped around his arm, and your eyes boring into his, he felt so much love it was overwhelming him, so sure, for the first time in his life, of that you were the only one he'd ever love, that he was irrevocably in love with you for the rest of time. So regretful of the time he could have spent loving you, and telling you, of the time he spent hiding, only to never get the chance of confessing, never get the chance to follow through on his promises.

“Stop. I know you are upset. I wish it could have been you. You know me, Vol. You know I wish it could have been you.”

Your subtle head shaking made felt sharp bursts of pain shoot through him, like his queue was connected to an electrical socket.

“You should go, Neteyam. This isn’t right. You’re engaged to someone else. I watched her today, watched how worried she was about you, how desperate to help you, to take you away so it’s just the two of you. You’re going to mate with this girl any day now. There’s no room for me in your life anymore. Not like this, anyway.”

He sighed and got off from on top of you, no matter how loudly his mind was screaming otherwise. He wouldn't do anything you weren't comfortable with.

“The engagement is broken.”

He wanted to stop. He could just stop and not say anything else. He could just end it there, and watch as your eyes widened in shock, then settled on a happy, relieved disposition that he saw so vividly in his mind's eye, it was almost as if was happening. He could just not go. He could stay, and love you, and make love to you, and keep you. It would be so easy. Nothing's ever been as easy as falling in love with you.

Leaving would protect the humans. Leaving would protect you.

“Because I’m leaving. I’m leaving the Omatikaya, and so is my family.”

Far beyond my reach is the future you promised

Now what I never even had, I have every reason to miss

"What did you just say?"

You heard him wrong. You must have heard him wrong. You wiped his tears off your face and sat up, feet dangling off the bed.

"Vol..."

"What did you say, Neteyam?"

You felt anger pick at you like you liked picking at your nails when anxiety took the better of you, and it hurt, and it burned, but anger was better than sadness, so you let it burn until you were ashes on the ground.

"My dad said we have to leave for the Metkayina clan. They're looking for him, trying to kill him. If we go, the clan will be safe. You will be safe."

"Are you kidding me right now? Please tell me it's one of those jokes like the ones Spider and Lo'ak love making that I don't get, but they find hilarious, for some reason. Please, Neteyam. Please."

You were begging, you realised. Outside of the intimacy of your bedroom and the cover of darkness, you never begged. You have never begged anyone for anything in your life. And there you were. Pathetic and weak. Begging a guy, the guy, to spare whatever was left of your heart with just a few words. All it took was a few words.

Neteyam wiped tears off his face and stood arrested in your room, arms limp by his side, like he couldn't move. Like you couldn't move.

"I'm not kidding, Vol. Trust me, I want nothing more than to be kidding. I want nothing more than for this to be a stupid, childish joke. But it's not. We are leaving tomorrow."

You were too stunned to speak, so you opted for the only other reaction your body seemed to be able to produce: laughter. You laughed. Loudly and obsessively, louder than you should have, louder than you ever have. It was so ridiculous, so ludicrous, it felt like the only appropriate reaction.

"This can't be real. This can't be happening."

Neteyam knelt by your side on the bed, and took your shoulders in his hands, urging you to look in his forlorn eyes, red and puffy, just like yours were.

“Vol, don’t you understand?! This is going to protect you. This way you get to be safe. I need to know that you are fucking safe, and if that means I go, then I go.”

There it was again, the anger picking at your brain until it buried everything else, until it was the only thing.

“Oh, that is such bullshit! Stop acting like you would choose to stay regardless of your family’s choice, even if it kept me safe. You have never been able to choose for yourself, never done anything outside of what Jake ever said, what Neytiri said, what Mo’at said, no matter how bad a choice, no matter how much you didn’t want it. I’m supposed to believe that it would be different now why?"

“It would, Vol, because it’s you!” he shook you gently as he said that, eyes so intense, so serious - so truthful.

"So stay. Just fucking stay. Please."

“Even if I stay, I still have to mate with her, don’t you understand?”

You knew that he was right. There was no win for you. For either of you. This life was cruel, and it gave with one hand and took with both, always leaving you with less than what you started. You weren’t one to question the meaning of life or the fairness of the universe, but now, taking in the man you loved more than anything in the world, the man who you knew loved you, you wondered what was the point of it all? Why were you here? Was there really that much cruelty reserved just for you? Were you how humanity was paying for its horrible missteps on Pandora? Were you an experiment, a toy put on here just as a Voodoo doll for Eywa, and every time she pricked another needle in you, it would reflect back on Earth and on of the people banished back to it? It felt like that sometimes, and it definitively felt like that tonight.

"I can't believe this. I can't believe you."

It suddenly felt much like you exchanged moods in between you, his despondent, wretched one passed on to you and replaced with your anger, strong and unwieldy.

“God fucking damn it, Vol! Do you think I want any of this, do you think this is my choice, that this would ever be my choice?! I'm trying to protect you! I'm trying to make sure you are safe, that the clan is safe! What the hell do you want from me?!”

He was angry and desperate, tears obvious in his eyes, as was the flush in his cheeks. Your eyes were leaking endless streams that you couldn’t push back, that you couldn’t remove from your cheeks in time before they were replenished, like they were begging to be seen and acknowledged, like the pain wouldn’t be denied - it wanted to be felt, and it didn’t care who it had to go through to do it.

You felt emptiness envelop you like a shroud at the situation that settled in and had time to stew in your mind with each passing moment. It was over. All over. The dreaded ending, the wreck it would leave behind, it was greeting you like a warm friend, announcing its arrival.

I'll just shut my eyes, forget that you were mine

How do you go from making one your home

And then just letting it all go

Your voice was numb and flat, quiet undulations with no emotion to give them any fluidity or any life. Your words were just a means to an end.

“Nothing, Neteyam. I don’t want anything from you anymore.”

You turned your back to him, unable to look at his skin on which traces of you still lingered, at his eyes in which you always saw the window to his soul, and your soul, the meaning of life and your future happiness encapsulated, his lips that traveled your body like a curious wanderer, finding Valhala in between your thighs, his hands which held your face and touched your hair, which pushed you closer to him or on him. A glance at any of these things and you would crumble, and you would shatter in a million pieces that no one knew well enough to put back together apart from him. You were a puzzle only he knew how to solve, and in his absence, you were all alone, and broken, left to mend your own cracks, knowing full well you’ll never be able to be put yourself back together quite the same way you were before.

“Vol… please.”

“Leave, Neteyam. Just go. Just fucking go.”

Stay. Please. I love you. I’m so in love with you. Don’t leave me alone. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to lose you. Please. Please. Please.

The sound of the door sliding closed behind Neteyam was the last thing you heard before he was out of your life, leaving everything you had behind.

So I breathe and let you go

How do I breathe and let you go?

Taglist: @liluvtojineteyam @pinkpantheris @netemoon @fanboyluvr @bananafruityawne @liluvtojineteyam @zaddyneteyamlovergirl @netemoon

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absurdthirst · 8 months

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Kinktober 2023: October 17th

Day 17: Dirty Talking, Pussy Eating/Blowjob, Breath Control

Tim Rockford x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Oral sex (male receiving) cum drinking, reader has no description beyond hair long enough to tangle fingers into, mentions of pussy eating

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Tim groans, his head thrown back against the hard, faux leather of the couch in his office. Looking up at the office tiles that decorate the ceiling as your fingers drag up his thick, meaty thighs on the way to their end goal. His belt.

“Baby, you don’t-” He chokes on his words, unable to really articulate what he is trying to say when he wants it so badly but he doesn’t think that he deserves it. Especially right here, in his office with only the blinds pulled and the door closed. Anyone could swing inside and see you on your knees in front of him. “Let me-”

“Let me make you feel good.” You cut him off, aware of every excuse that Tim Rockford will use to stop you from blowing him. Biting your lip as your hands slide over the taunt fabric of his crotch, thighs spread with you kneeling between them. Going for the trim belt that holds them tight to his hips and keeps you from the cock beneath.

Tim deserves this. He needs this. Overworked, underpaid. The detective is a bloodhound for the truth, and yet he can’t see how much you want to give this to him. Your mouth watering at the thought of holding his cock in your mouth, caressing him with your tongue while all the stress and worry of the day, the week, just falls away.

His breath catches and his hands come down on your shoulders, resting there a moment while you pull the belt tail tight, easing the prong of the belt buckle free from the notched hole to slip it apart.

You think that he’s going to push you away. To deny himself this gift. But he doesn’t. One strong hand slides up your neck over your cheek to tangle his fingers into your hair. Pulling the roots slightly as he gives a wordless groan of consent.

He’s half hard already, making you hum happily in the back of your throat as you unlatch those dress pants he wears. Not quick a hallmark of fashion, it was dressy enough to be in the dress code for his rank and still be slightly frumpy. Although his shirt is tight against his skin, the undershirt tucked into his practical boxer briefs when you pull the tails of his button down up out of his pants.

His thighs shift again, spreading more, ass pushing down to move closer to you. Giving in to what you want to give him and he obviously wants to take. The man has been working on this case for weeks. Spending countless midnight hours pouring over the evidence board and the files. His office is filled with the scent of cigarettes and stale coffee. Right now, you want it to be filled with desire, the slightly musky scent of his skin and his cum.

Instead of pulling his pants and underwear down, you reach into his briefs and pull him out. Wrapping your fingers around his thick, hardening cock to make him groan. Unable to really believe until he feels your touch that this is truly happening.

The loud exhale of his breathing makes you smile, eyes flickering up to meet his own as he takes in the sight in front of him. Squeezing his cock gently and feeling it continue to grow in your hand. Curling up and filling out so that you have to relax your grip as he becomes even more impressive. Leaning forward and opening your mouth to dribble a little spit onto the head to ease your hand stroking him.

It makes him groan, watching the slightly dirty act and you know he will be groaning more when you get to the good parts. For now, you want to slowly build him up. Draw this out and let him enjoy it. The bullpen outside his door is empty, everyone else has gone home and there’s no one who would interrupt right now.

The clock ticks on the wall. Breaking the silence and keeping time as you slowly start to pump his length in your hand. Languid strokes up and down his thick shaft as you watch him watching you. Noting when his cock twitches in your hand or that cute little frown line between his brows pulls down, memorizing what feels good to him.

His fingers flex against your scalp, telling you he wants to pull you closer. Wants to show you what he is most eager for, but the detective restrains himself. Still holding onto that iron-willed reserve that has made him a fantastic, although burned out, detective.

He’s good at waiting. He’s good at watching events unfold and right now, you want him to watch his own pleasure play out.

Leaning in, your tongue slides out of your hot, wet mouth. Gently caressing the head of his cock and pulling a low moan out of the man. Savoring it every bit as much as the taste of him. The salty, earthy taste of flesh and musk.

Your own moan vibrating around his sensitive flesh and making him pant above you. Your fingers sliding down to the base of his cock, curling against his pelvis and hair, holding it upright so you can start taking him down your throat in progressively deeper bobs of your head.

Every pass, you take a little more. Your hand slowly jerks the base of his cock and twisting gently around him. Tongue circling the head and pushing flat as you pull him deeper into your mouth, sucking around him just feel that vein jump wildly.

You keep it soft, slow. Wanting to let him luxuriate in the softness of your mouth, the warmth and the heat lulling him into a relaxed state. You don’t care if your jaw gets sore from being held so wide, that your hands are soaked in with the spit and pre-cum as you work to keep him deep in your throat. You want him to slowly reach climax. So slowly that it almost sneaks up on him.

Tim isn’t silent. His grunts and groans go straight to your cunt, making it throb as he moans for you. Whispering raspy words that honestly make no sense, jumbled together praises like ‘good fuck, suck cock’ and ‘pretty hole, tongue good’. Making you preen because you’ve reduced this quick thinking, doggedly solid man to a pile of words and whimpers.

Your hand continues to pump him, your mouth sucking and cheeks hollowing around him. Almost wishing that the man had a cigarette in his hand or a glass of whiskey to sip on while you suck his cock with a single purpose. To make him forget everything but the heat of your mouth, the softness of your palette, the firmness of your hand. All of them working together to take him apart.

You’re enjoying it, much more than anyone would ever imagine. Your panties drenched in slick as you give the best blowjob of your fucking life. Lashes fluttering up so you can see his head tilt back, drop forward so those dark eyes can watch. Feeling the way his hand almost presses you deeper onto his cock but then he relaxes. His other hand squeezes your shoulder tight when you suck and your throat closes around the head.

Reduced to grunts and whines, Tim can’t help but start to rock his hips up. Not enough to choke you, but needing more friction as he climbs higher. That need that has built up in his stomach nearly boiling over and if you were to pull off his cock now, he would beg you to keep going.

Panting wildly, his breath is shaky, stuttered as if he cannot take in enough air. His cock pulsing in your grip and you know that he’s only moments away now. Your strokes become more firm, the suction of your mouth increasing and you push him further down your throat while you hum around him. Urging him to cum, to spill down your throat and give you every drop of his release to drink down.

Tim gasps your name, choking it out as his hips jerk up, seeking to bury his length deep into your throat. Body pulling taut like a bow string as he starts to throb on your tongue in that pulsing, hammering beat before the first burst of salty release fills your mouth.

You moan, immediately swallowing as fast as you can and it’s still not fast enough. Drops escaping from the side of your lips, sliding down your jaw while you grip his thighs and push him as far down as he will go without choking. Taking everything that he’s willing to give you as he comes apart underneath you in glorious groans that have you humming happily.

Continuing to swallow until he’s pumped dry, then holding him in your mouth. Feeling the twitching of the aftershocks as he starts to soften and shrink in your mouth. Not even pulling away to lick up the remnants that have spilled down your chin until his pants have evened out and his body is relaxed in a completely dazed slump on his office sofa.

“Holy shit.” His amazed tone makes you laugh as you slowly pull back, tucking his wet cock back into his briefs and looking up at him as you pat it closed.

“Feel good?” You ask, slightly smug in reducing this man to the dazed, ruffled state he is in.

“Good?” He shakes his head and starts to slowly untangle his fingers from your hair as gently as he can. “That was the best fucking blowjob I’ve ever had.” He promises. “Now I need to see if my pussy eating measures up.” He huffs, making you grin.

“Oh yeah?” You hum, slightly excited to see what he’s got. “We can do that.” Tonight will apparently be relaxing for both of you, and you aren’t mad at it.

#pedro pascal #kinktober #absurdthirst kinktober #kinktober 2023 #tim rockford #tim rockford x reader #tim rockford x you #tim rockford x f!reader #tim rockford smut #tim rockford fanfiction #tim rockford imagine #tim rockford merge mansion #merge mansion

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kitkatopinions · 7 months

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"Blake's TRUE color is purple, the black was only ever because of Adam" Friend, if that was the case her name wouldn't literally mean black. You guys were watching the color show originally centered around color where the color oriented team rwby who had names with the first initial of their color made by someone who was so particular about color that he almost made all dust red just so he didn’t throw off Weiss's color scheme. You really think that if Blake's TRUE color was always meant to be purple, she'd be named Blake?

Also, people only ever offer Blake 'breaking away from Adam' and 'getting healthy and confident' as reasons why the writers are acting like she's purple now, but like... Blake hasn't been with Adam at all during the course of the main show. She was completely disillusioned with him, she was against the things he did, she was standing up to him, she was calmly articulating the way she felt about him, she was making friends, learning to trust, went on a date for God's sake, all within the first three seasons. And the backsliding that happened because of the fall of beacon was dealt with and left her more confident than ever, reunited with her parents and Ilia, 'reclaiming the White Fang' from him even though that was a badly done mess, etc, all prior to reuniting with Team RWBY by the way. Killing Adam in volume six was completely unnecessary to Blake's journey of healing and actually logically would've made her backslide again, and as I've said before, Blake turning into a meek flinching passive person trying to manage her partner's temper and hiding behind said partner when her seventeen year old teammate raises her voice makes it seem like Blake is actively LESS healthy than ever before.

People literally only say that about "purple is really Blake's color, the black is just Adam" because they're unable to see Blake outside of Bumbleby and use Adam as a fallback hatesink for anything she once was that contradicts it. Also I want these people to stop calling their ship bumbleby and find something purple and yellow to call their ship, like LarryBoy or something. Also Also I want them to stop singing Red Like Roses, because "Black the beast descends from shadow-" Oh ADAM that must mean ADAM because Blake's color isn't black! /s

Also the same can be said for Weiss. "White was the Jacques color, blue is really what Weiss's color really is" A. Her name means white. B. You’re telling me that in V4 at the height of when the writers want you to think Jacques is so cruelly controlling her, she's wearing that dull gray-ish blue dress and absolutely no white, and that wasn’t meant to be symbolic at all? And when she leaves she puts on the wide white belt, and you thought that... What, meant that Jacques still had a hold on her or something? Also, C. I could be wrong, but doesn't Nicholas Schnee who the writers are billionaire simps for and Weiss admires and calls a hero ALSO wear tons of white? If Weiss is shedding Jacques (represented by white) and embracing the True Blueblooded GOOD Billionaire Schnee name (blue) then wouldn't old Nick Schnee be decked out in blue?

And legitimately, the writers might've randomly decided while writing V6 that Weiss's color should be blue and Blake's color should be purple and THEY might have come up with those same dumb excuses, but they're not good excuses and I absolutely DO NOT believe that Blake's color being black and Weiss's color being white was originally meant to 'show us they weren't being their true selves' or that they were 'getting held back' and so on and so forth. Every time I see people say that, I roll my eyes so hard.

#rwde

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domtheforestgnome · 9 months

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Moments my heart sequentially broke for Wilhelm in season 2 part 1

Hello! I have too much time and don't feel very well mentally, so I thought that's the best moment to watch my comfort serie once again and share those moments when my heart sequentially broke for Wilhelm in Young Royals season 2. Also, here are Part 1 and Part 2 of Simon, bc as we know they suffer in this series very often. Let's go!

When it turns out it's just a dream.

When he puts Erik's coat and smells it.

This b*tch.

When Simon rejected their hands touch.

When he really wanted to do something to reward his deeds to Simon.

I mean... I feel you, kid. The anger. The adrenaline. Like it's never enough.

When he politely left Simon alone while he was playing piano.

When passing the hokey puck to Simon was too much for him <3

When he was scared and confused bc of Jan Olof's visit.

When the snow glob crashed - I feel like this moment has the second meaning here too. But I'll write about it in different post.

Hate it. Absolutely hate it. Even tough Wille himself doesn't understand what that means, but the homophobic treatment towards him in this case makes me wanna grow claws and tear the Royal Court with it.

When 2 years waiting was too long for Simon and little sparks of Wilhelm's hopefor getting back together went gone.

When he couldn't articulate his brother's death.

When he cared for Simon but Simon didn't get it.

When he saw Marcus flirty message to Simon.

When he tried meditation but his anxious thoughts were too much.

When he was angry at himself for not being able to stop care.

When he heard what he wanted to hear and his voice became very quiet. My little baby!

When he saw Simon and Marcus kissing and was absolutely devastated.

And then this whole sequence of broken-hearted Wille.

My heart! His red glassy eyes :(

When he suffered really badly and wanted it to stop.

But then I was screaming "no, no, NO!!!!!" like the guy from The Office hahahaha Ok, here's part 2 of that :)

#young royals #prince wilhelm #simon eriksson #wilmon #crown prince wilhelm #edvin ryding #season 2

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iluvtreyparker · 8 months

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Not Yet

-smut

-mentions of alcohol and being tipsy (while they both have a few beers I want to stress that they’re not drunk, I didn’t intend for them to be portrayed as drunk and that all sex was consensual!!!)

-this is my first fanfic idk how to format this

-im obsessed w that pic of Trey I hope u imagine that Trey during this cuz that’s what was on my mind

Every Monday, Wednesday, Friday was seeming to grow into an agonizing gift from the gods, or whoever was out there running the show. Waking up seemed to have purpose again; barely making it out the door on time shifted into early mornings crafting carefully coordinated outfits; messy, unwashed hair turned into delicately designed pig tails or braids. For the first time in a very long time, the idea of a class at 9 am was no longer a borderline debilitating task, but like a cup of coffee on a crisp fall morning. Stepping foot in the classroom was like that first sip of coffee passing down your throat and warming your whole body, freeing you from the morning’s chill. You stood before the door, prepping yourself for 50 minutes of pure distraction and inevitable and uncontrollable thoughts, sweet dreams of delusion of a man who you thought barely remembered your name. You sighed deeply. It was time. You pressed open the door and scanned the room for him, in the most natural looking way you could.

“Good morning!” He said with sincerity in his smile.

“Good morning..” you choked out, just a millisecond late enough to make yourself feel awkward about the interaction.

You thought to yourself, “Jesus Christ he was so sweet. He said hello to me. He probably says hello to everyone. But he said it to me today. He wanted you so badly didn’t he. No. No. You have to get yourself together, he’s a man in his 40’s and he is your professor, he’s a very kind man simply greeting you on this fine morning. But wouldn’t it be nice if he wanted me.”

You took your seat near the back of the small auditorium and got yourself settled in. Pretending you be on your laptop you peered above it, getting him in your view. He was still gathering himself together to begin class, as there were a few minutes remaining before the clock would strike 9. You looked upon him as he fiddled with papers. How did you get here? At this university? This major? This class? This specific section? And THIS professor? It didn’t matter, you were here. And there he was.

The way his salt and pepper stubble ruggedly graced his face, his very worn long sleeve t shirt that he must’ve been wearing since before you were out of middle school even, his messy hair undergoing the effects of aging, gently receding in a way that was beginning to leave a patch a the top but something about the way he rocked it pulled you to him a little bit more. He was just an older man, but damn there was something about him. It wasn’t just his looks that captivated you. It was the cadence with which he spoke, the way he could fill up the most casual, unprofessional sentence with an air of eloquence. The way he could make anything make sense. His mind was vast, woven with intricacies of which you felt you could probably never comprehend. And dammit was he funny, and so clever.

Class has started and you sat there, watching intently as he paced around the front of the room, talking about who knows what, God knows you weren’t listening, going on beautifully worded tangents every now and again. He mentioned something about a quiz but all you could think about was how he was in bed. Was he a hair grabber? What day was this quiz? He’s gotta be packing right? It’s on chapter 4? You wanted to put your hands on each side of his face, feeling his graying stubble and pull him in for a kiss, letting each other’s tongues tango and wander to wherever they ended up.

He was talking about something being wrong with the textbook, cursing the idiot writer and the dipshit who edited it and whatever numbskull allowed it to be published, but the articulation of his perfectly chosen words only made you think about what all he could do with his tongue, especially if he was between your thighs. Was he good? He had to be. You just sensed it. He would spread your thighs, look up at you with lust before going down on you, he would know just how to move his tongue, you knew it. And maybe he would start to tease you. He would stop and then begin rubbing your clit only to slide 2 fingers down and into you when you least expected. He would start pumping slowly, starting to curl his fingers up inside you, and holy fuck, when you thought it couldn’t get any better he brought his head down and started using his tongue again while inside you, Jesus Christ alfuckingmighty, and then he would- You felt the room start to blur out as if it were just you and him in an empty auditorium, your cheeks were growing warm and your stomach in a knot. Lord, you felt you needed him so badly. Never had a professor or person in general made you feel this way. It was carnal. Snap out of it. You were going too far again. If you thought anything else you might just have get up and uh.. take a… “bathroom break”… You would never really do that, but he had you so strung up you needed a release so badly. There were only 10 minutes left of class and you tried to ease your mind and maybe attempt to learn something. 10 long minutes of fighting off inappropriate thoughts and watching each minute in agony go by on the clock. But in time, it was over. You quickly grabbed all your belongings and shoved them in your bag with haste, you just wanted to get out of there because partly you felt bad about how far you let your mind wander. You made your way down the short length of auditorium stairs, getting closer to him with each step. He stood near the door, waving a slight goodbye or have a good day to the occasional student who prompted it. You kept your head down, you dreaded passing him, you felt like your thoughts were so loud that he had to have heard them. Like he knew every single thing you wanted him to do to you. Closer and closer you got, mere seconds feeling like hours the closer you got to his presence, you were almost wincing. So close to the door, you would make it. He was right there, you were coming up to him, just nearly about to pass him and get out of there. Until. You sensed a disturbance in your personal bubble. Dear god. He stopped you,

“Hey, Y/N?” He said.

Stunned, frozen in time almost. Are you fucking kidding? Out of all days. You didn’t know what to do, mind racing, you felt your cheeks growing increasingly warm and knew that by the time you turned to face him you would be brighter than the reddest tomato ever grown. You were feeling so warm that surely, your cheeks must be akin to a 3rd degree sunburn, they were so hot they had to have been blistering too, right? Most of the students had filed around you out of the class as the interaction ensued. It was just you two now.

“Uh.. yes..” you managed to spit out.

He stood with a concerned stature, one hand on his hip,

“Are you okay today? You seemed a little off in class today. I just noticed you seemed a little out of it and I thought I would check in.”

Jesus Christ. So he noticed you? He looked at you? He thought about… you?

“Oh! Uh. Yeah…” you trailed off, “… uh. Yeah! Yeah I’m doing okay. Just been a little distracted today is all. I just uh. Adhd. Forgot my medicine today. That’s it! Ha!”

Fucking facepalm. It wasn’t a lie about the ADHD, but you had taken your medicine, and that had in fact probably helped you focus so intently on thinking lewd thoughts about the tall man before you. But god, did you have to overshare like that? Even if it was a only slight stretch of the truth.

“Oh, okay, it happens, Y'know. Glad you’re good! I’ll see you on Wednesday,” he said with a reassuring smile.

“Yep! See you Wednesday!” You stumbled out the door and sped walked without any hesitation to your car. Your mind was blank the whole time until you opened the door and sat down behind the wheel.

God. He was sexy. The way his voice rolled out of his mouth was smooth like butter and it had your knees weak as you thought back on the words he had said to you. You drove home and immediately fell onto the bed and took a nice nap.

As the evening rolled around you started feeling increasingly bored, lonely, and antsy. This was the great combination of feelings that lead you right down the path of deciding to, on a Monday night, hit the bars. For once, you thought, you didn’t exactly want to get totally wasted, but just sit with a beer and be somewhere other than stuck in your room mulling over the woes of life. You’d rather be stuck in a bar, a place with atmosphere and distractions and beer, mulling over life. You had been to most of the bars on the square, and almost decided on going to your favorite one where they knew you, which seems like the best and obvious choice, but something told you otherwise. There was one bar, which you realized you had never been in. It was a sports bar, so this made sense. But tonight you thought, why not? Something new for a dull night? Who knows, maybe you’d meet somebody. Something pulled you to it. It was relatively empty, a few guys were watching the game, but otherwise empty. You sat down at the bar, showed your ID and what not and ordered a Coors Banquet. You sat for a while, almost forcing yourself to try and care about the game on tv. It was the Bengals and some other team who you didn’t really know or care about. You didn’t care about the Bengals either but you knew who they were.

Time passed and you stared, distracted, into your beverage, zoning out the world around you… until… the familiar feeling of someone sitting down right next to you broke your focus on the beer bottle.

“Banquet girl, huh?”

No way. It was him.

“Holy shit,” you said instinctually, “Professor…Parker…” you trailed off in disbelief.

“Uh, yeah,” you continued, “I am a coors banquet girl for sure. Used to be miller lite until I discovered ol banquet. Coors lite on the other hand… that’s just straight piss water”

Embarrassed about saying piss water to your professor, who was sitting next you you at a bar nonetheless, you tried not to bury your face deeply into your hands and scream a guttural scream.

“Piss water huh…?” he giggled, “I always kinda liked coors lite.” He smiled.

There was a brief, stagnant moment of silence, who knows how long it lasted but it was enough for him to decide to clear his throat and break it,

“So… I saw you sitting all alone, I just thought I’d come over here and say hi, hopefully an old guy like me won’t bother you too much, I can sit somewhere else though if you’d like. You just looked a little lonely staring at your beer like that.”

“Oh. Yeah. No, that's fine yeah, keep sitting here.”

This was mind blowing to say the least, it didn’t feel real. He was so close to you. He was so close you could reach out and put your arms around him, embracing his body heat. You tried not to dwell in order to hold a normal conversation, but he was so close you could smell the hint of Old Spice lingering on him. And with just that whiff you caught, it drove you mad. Of course he would wear Old Spice.

“So… I guess… What’re you up to being here tonight?” You asked, unable to think of anything to say.

“I just came here to watch the game. I’m not really all that interested but, Yknow, I guess I just wanted to get out. Really I should be asking you what YOU’RE up to, hitting the bars on a Monday night, miss ma’am.”

Miss ma’am??? What were you? A child or perhaps a naughty cat being scolded? That’s what that sounded like. But maybe you kind of liked it… especially coming from him.

You took a moment to breathe in, “Well, if you must know, miss ma’am here enjoys the fact that there are no covers at the bars on Monday nights,” you paused, “And I just like to sit and think with a beer I guess, and I don’t always want to do it alone in my room. Gets kinda sad after a while y’know”

“Oh, I know,” he responded.

There was another moment of silence filling up the space between you, but it felt more natural this time.

“So, The Cure?” He pointed at your shirt, “I love The Cure!”

“They’re my favorite band!” You say excitedly.

He looks at you with a jokingly cocky expression, “Yknow, I don’t mean to toot my own horn or anything, but after college I made a movie and guess who loved it? Robert Smith!”

“Holy shit???” You blurt out, “Robert Smith?? And?- hold on you- you made a goddamn movie?? Dude!”

As if he couldn’t get any hotter. He made a movie. That your own hero Robert Smith was allegedly into. He could’ve been lying for all you know, but you trusted every word he said. After a bit of beer consumption you were starting to feel more comfortable and natural talking to him, but in the back of your mind you still couldn’t quiet down the thoughts of everything you wanted to do with him.

“Ah it’s nothin,” he said

“Nothin? No!! You have to show me!”

“Oh don’t know about that… it’s a little inappropriate…”

Inappropriate? Trey Parker? God this pulled you in. You couldn’t believe he made a movie, and an allegedly inappropriate one? You had to see this. Now felt like the time, after a beer and a half you were starting to feel more bold. It was now or never. Before you thought about it to hard, the words were already leaving your lips,

“It may be bold and completely out of line, though I have drank this beverage a bit fast so I’m feeling willing to say more than I should, however, I feel inclined to ask… if you might want to come to my apartment and maybe… you could show me your movie…”

He looked stunned. But you could tell by the look behind his eyes. He had been around long enough to know. And thankfully, to your completely dismay, he replied with a smile,

“Sure…”

You stepped into his car, and the two of you drove back in mostly silence other than your telling directions back to your apartment. It didn’t feel real. You sat in his passenger seat, looking out the window, feeling warmth in your cheeks, wondering if maybe, since you had successfully lured him to your apartment, he might let you call him by his first name.

“Hey…” you decided to go for the question, nervous on how it would go over.

“Hm?” He said softly, looking over at you slightly but maintaining his focus on the road.

“How mad would you be if I um, if I referred you Trey tonight…? Yknow since…” you trailed off, “since y'know…”

“I don’t think I would be mad at all, Y/N.” He said we a reassuring smile.

You gave a quick tour of the place and then offered up the couch, you sat on one end, politely urging him to sit himself down with you. He placed himself on the other end of the couch at an almost awkward, but definitely safe distance.

“You could sit a little closer y’know.“ you said

“I suppose I could”

He moves a little closer but, still a safe difference. If there was ever a time to use your feminine wiles, you thought, it was now. You knew what you wanted but could barely believe you were in this position anyways.

“I don’t bite or nothin. I mean, I usually don’t anyways”

He lightly giggled, but you could sense the gears turning in his head, and you wondered if he had processed your attempt at flirting. He scooted over closer to you, legs almost touching.

The movie had begun playing, and you teased him about his outfit in the film, and the fact that it was called Orgazmo. But after a little while, something came over you, you just couldn’t hold it anymore. Before you knew it you felt your hand moving towards his thigh. Isn’t this usually a man’s move? You really didn’t care. It’s what you wanted and it felt right. In an instant you felt your palm press against the fabric. You looked up to him for reassurance and he gave you a look that let you know it was okay. Within seconds you felt your body rush with warmth as he leaned swiftly in, placing his hand on the side of your face, pulling you in a locking lips.

Holy fuck? Its happening? Play it cool.

His scruff scratches lightly against your skin. Fuck, he could give you rug burn if he wanted to, you’d let him. Your bodies moved together with the passion of the kiss, feeling around each other as his tongue danced against yours in your mouth. You felt a pressure on your chest as he reached in to grab your boobs, releasing a breathy sigh on impact into your mouth. You found your hand on his thigh again, grasping into it briefly, then running your hand up slowly until you reached his inner thigh. You stopped here for a moment before moving to the big bulge in his pants, rubbing and stroking it through the fabric and feeling it get even harder as you do so.

“Fuck,” he lets out a groan.

He hastily begins fiddling with his pants button pulling them down and off to expose his boxers. He grabs you and pulls you up on his lap, your legs straddled around him, and begins grinding against you, moving your hips against his lap and confined length which ached to be inside you.

You couldn’t take it anymore, you found yourself peeling your shorts off with vigor in order to feel even closer to him and the raging hard on rubbing against you. He sat you back down and pulled you in even harder, breathing heavily with each of his movements against you.

“Please, Trey,” you begged, “I need you to put it in”

“Not yet,” he smiled.

He lifted you up as he stood, and carried you off to your bedroom, laying you down on the bed hurriedly, but with care. With both of you on the bed he slid off your shirt, throwing it to the floor; then crawling up to you for a kiss, he places his hands firmly on your boobs. He moves down, grabbing one gently and putting it in his mouth, his tongue swirling around your nipple as he looks up at you with needy blue eyes. He begins to trail down, leaving a line of tender yet sloppy kisses down your torso as he approaches your underwear. It almost made you shiver, the closer he got.

“Is this okay? You’re okay with doing this?” He asked, looking up at you.

You nodded with a subtle bite of the lip, as you felt you couldn’t handle another second without him inside you.

“Are you sure?” He asked again.

“Yes. Please. I need you right now,” you wined in response.

He got off the bed and stood up, tearing off his shirt with haste and sliding off his boxers, allowing his hard length to fling out, giving it a few pumps as he approached the bed again. Back on the bed, he spreads your legs in preparation to take him. He leans in, taking his cock and rubbing the tip against your clit, teasing you, forcing you to wait even longer.

“You’re so wet for me, huh?” he said slyly and proudly as he continued to tease you.

“Please put it in,” you begged.

He grinned and you felt him enter, pushing himself in slowly, all the way, letting out a groan as he did so, and then waiting just a moment, fully inside you, before he began thrusting. He started slowly, getting you used to the length, quickly picking up the pace. You ran your hands down his chest, feeling all of his hair and the burgeoning sweat within it. He was pumping in and out of you rhythmically, absolutely wracking your brain, and with his thrusting came the occasional groan, or “ah” or “fuck.” He put his hand behind your head and leaned in to kiss you sloppily, letting lust take the two of you over.

All of a sudden he pulled out, just barely out of you, his tip almost touching your entrance. He watched the confusion on your face as he hadn’t yet gone back in, knowing how badly you wanted him back, he began to tease you.

“How badly do you want it?”

“So badly, please”

“Not yet,” he said, “I want to hear you beg.”

“Fuck. Please fuck me,” you pleaded.

He grinned and pushed back inside you with delicate force, putting his hands on side of your waist and pulling you into each thrust. He leaned in for a kiss and you took the opportunity to pull him in to you even closer, chests touching, feeling his warmth. He nestled his head in your neck, sucking lightly, enough to titillate but not leave a mark. You held tightly onto his back, trying to keep yourself from digging into it and scratching him, but maybe he would like that, you thought. As he thrusted, you bucked your hips against him, fucking him back. He let out a moan into your ear, unable to hold it in any longer. You could sense that rush flooding in, trying to overtake you, you tried to push back in order to keep yourself going longer but it was growing increasingly obvious that the time was nearing. You could feel within his recent movements that he was in a similar boat. He leaned in for one more kiss, letting out a moan, “Uugh, fuck,” into your mouth as he did so. With this you found yourself unable to hold it in.

“Trey, I’m gonna cum,” you moan, pulling him in as hard and close as you possibly could, bucking your hips hard, riding out the high as you felt your body nearly shaking against his.

He continued pumping, almost reaching that same limit himself, with your own release pushing him over the edge. He pulled out quickly with an “ah” pumping along his cock as he aimed it towards your tits. He kept pumping, letting out sounds of ecstasy and relief, spurting his cum all over your chest.

“Shit,” he exhaled, while flopping over and laying next to you. You noticed some of his cum had landed on his stomach, sitting lightly on his happy trail.

“Hey, you got a lil sumthin,” you said with a point and a smile.

“Oh…” he looked down at himself and then looked at you, remembering how much he had doused you, “Oh! I’ll get a towel!”

You told him where to find one and he soon returned wielding a washcloth, he gently cleaned you up before tossing the towel off the side of the bed, then laying back down beside you.

“So uh… does this warrant me getting some extra credit?” You joked.

He laughed lightly and responded, “Oh, after that? You just passed the class with flying colors.”

#trey parker #trey parker x reader

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shootingstarrfish · 4 months

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Omg hiii I looove oversharing about my blorbos 😋

Anyway Simeon is my favorite guy ever and has been since the beginning I'm completely obsessed with him bc he's literally perfect tell my WHY on gods green earth he's always getting swept under the rug. Why does this man never get any attention and when he does why is he mischaracterized. He's got it all. He's tall and handsome in kind of an ethereal effeminate way, he's sweet and kind but not a pushover, he's one of the most tragic characters in the game, he's the perfect muse for a religious trauma arc, a corruption arc, a "the calm collected one who's always having a good time finally snaps and goes apeshit" arc, I mean come on. Come on. Every time I remember that his main sin is wrath despite him being SO chill and gentle on the outside I want to giggle a little bit. My beautiful princess with identity issues and slutty waist I'm so sorry everyone ignores you

Solomon though. I don't remember how I felt about him at first (other than lots of gender envy) but he wasn't a favorite until I came back to the fandom after being absent for ages. Like damn this man is everything. He's so complicated /pos that I cant even articulate why I love him so much but he's so well written (maybe one of the only ones who are written halfway decently) and SO tragic. The way he's so desperately in love with the mc and is forced to watch them go for literally anyone else but would still do anything for them and ask for nothing but a little bit of loyalty in return is scrumptious. Also the way immortality just kinda fucks you up after a while when you're only human. I've been very tempted to put him in a poly ship with my mc and Simeon bc he deserves it but for now he just has to watch from afar as the man he loves endlessly makes out with his best friend that he also kinda sorta has a little crush on bc making the gays suffer brings me copious amounts of joy. He's also the "always totally calm and collected no matter what but actually has really strong feelings that he works to keep in check" type like Simeon and I love that for him. One of the fics I'm reading has him once become so panicked over the MC's wellbeing that he completely loses his composure. Yelling, trembling, the whole nine yards and it was fucking glorious, I love seeing characters like him break.

Also I have to talk a little about Lucifer. He's not generally a favorite but I just think it's funny how I went from hating his guts bc I thought he was an asshole to to liking him a lot bc I have a weak spot for big brother characters. He loves his family so so so much and just has trouble showing it properly!! He's still an asshole and an uptight prick but I like that about him now. My mc had the same development with him as I did, he went from "I hate this motherfucker I wanna kill him also he kinda scares me" to "this is my big brother we are holding hands :)" in the span of like a year and a half and it's really funny. Lucifer thought he was finally getting a sensible housemate and friend but ended up getting another insufferable, headache indicung little brother figure instead. Also I kinda have a non canon ship between him and my MC's father bc the idea is SO funny but also a little cute bc they compliment each other real well. My mc would become homophobic so fast if he found out and thinking about it is incredibly entertaining

thank u for oversharing teehee <333

the side characters are sooo fun and interesting i wish so badly that theyd get to be ever so slightly less on the side :,D

the dynamic between your mc and simeon and solomon PAIN UGH i love it.. <333 my heart hurts for solo but the yearning.... MMM

and absolutely felt about lucifer, i wish i could hate him and leave it at that but he makes it so hard. i have such a complicated relationship with this man but i cant bring myself to genuinely hate him hahaha

#ask box #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me

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tothepointofinsanity · 9 months

Note

the new pmmm movie trailer has brought back my Brainrot for the show so ive been re-exploring the pmmm corner of tumblr and

oh my god???? oh my fucking god???? oh holy shit???? oh my goodness gracious your art is so pretty??????? hello???????????

the way you draw sayaka is just fhfhfhfhhfhfhfhfhfhfhfhfhfhfhfhhfhf. yk? the english language does not have the words to articulate how much i love you art and the style of your art. i am going insane. i am losing my mind. every piece you've made featuring sayaka just captures her essence so well and it makes me feral.

sayaka's not my main favorite of the show (sorry sayaka, you rock but kyoko is just too cool with her Christian Guilt) she's a very close second and it makes me so happy to see an artist who just understands her character so well. she's a foolish girl blind to her own fate, desperate to do something special and be someone worthwhile but she's ultimately just a footnote in the grand plan of the universe, she wants to be just and righteous and kind so badly but she's too wrapped up in her own despair to truly be selfless, she can be selfish and callous but that's just because she's human, a human who realized her existence is ultimately an exercise in futility and that fact burns and it hurts so she does whatever she can to make the pain go away but it never does because she's just A Normal, Flawed Girl and that hurts so goddamn much-

i have so many Thoughts about sayaka. she makes me insane on a daily basis and your art just feels like it captures all the screeching in my brain and puts it in the form of some beautiful images. they're so great. you're doing great.

Ah, thank you for the kind words [♡] I appreciate the time you had taken out to write and send this long scroll of a compliment.

I have been told by others that the way I depict Sayaka is "so real" and that it captures her essence most of the time, even though I am not sure what particular elements about her that people in the audience like unless specified. I suppose, personally, whenever I am drawing her, I have to enter her shoes of not just "the frustration of a lovesick teenage girl", "my perceived sense of justice was flawed", but also to accept that resignation is a highlight of her character. A young girl who believes she is unloved despite her desire to do everything Right. A mermaid who cannot swim - futility and uselessness contribute to why Sayaka is a realistic and compelling person to a lot of people watching the show. Whenever I draw her, my brain paints a sketch of her sadness before anything else. The despair of "no matter what I do, this is the outcome" is true to the canon of Sayaka turning into a Witch in every timeline she tries to accomplish this Goodness by being a magical girl, reflecting the reality at large the helplessness girls in general experience on a daily basis.

It is why I find people who hate Sayaka to be...strange, since their prescribed reasons for dislike are mainly how "foolish" her wish and outlook in life was, and how she became irritating to those around her as though Sayaka isn't literally a paragon of not just deteriorating mental health, but to me, people with personality disorders as well, given that there is always a "sense" that the inevitable ending involves everyone actively avoiding you and you will eventually just...fade away into non-existence; a bad memory that no one wants to speak about. It makes me sad. Sayaka is sick, and everyone can smell the rot of magic off her.

Everytime I draw her, I want to capture, perhaps, this exact feeling of resigning to this disease. I don't want to always make the drawings beautiful since her struggles are ugly and difficult and tiresome, and shouldn't be trivialised as a result. She's always trying her best to regain control of her own life, thus being so unmatched in terms of how relatable she is to a lot of people.

I am glad that someone appreciates my works, even if they aren't always consistently quality. •́ ‿ ,•̀

#ASKS 💌#the most girl ever

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zoeykallus · 1 year

Text

Echo - There For You 27 - Desperate Times

Echo x Fem!Reader FF

Warnings: ANGST

__________________

After an initial quick examination, Tech determines that Echo's condition is very serious. Now it is time to act quickly.

__________________

What Happened Before:

There For You 1 - I’ll Stay With you

2. Just You And Me

3. Under Cherry Blossoms

4. I Can’t Lose Her

5. The Scent Of Memories

6. A Little More Time

7. Heat In A Cold Night

8. Traditions

9. Revelations

10. Sweet And Painful

11. Tears In The Dark

12. Guilt

13. Everybody Needs Somebody

14. A Real Embrace

15. Veterans

16. Hidden Things

17. Delirium

18. Help Is On The Way

19. With A Bang

20. Permanent Damage

21. Until Some Day

22. No Things Left Unsaid

23. Ups And Downs

24 - Truth And Consequences

25 - Back Home

26 – Distraction

27 -Desperate Times

Anxiously, you looked over Tech's shoulder as he performed a scan on Echo. You were all shaky, with a queasy feeling in your stomach, your whole body shaking slightly as if you were freezing. "Not good," Tech muttered softly. Your heart sank to the back of your knees. You watched as Tech, gave Echo an injection, then turned to you and the others. "Some of the chips and circuits in his brain are fried," Tech finally said seriously. "Can't we just replace them?" asked Wrecker, who gently put a hand on your shoulder. As Tech shook his head, you sat down, feeling your knees buckle underneath you. You tried to breathe calmly, to comprehend what was happening. "That would take brain surgery. I can do some things and I know some things, but I'm not a brain surgeon. I would have to learn these things first, which is faster for me than for the average person, but would still take several days. Also, this is not just brain surgery, we also need spare parts and knowledge of this particular techno unit technology. Echo desperately needs a real surgeon, and not just any surgeon, but one who knows about the Techno Unit technology." You felt sick. You had no idea where to get someone like that in a hurry. "What happens to him when he wakes up?" Tech looked at you calmly and tried to say as matter-of-factly and gently as possible, "I've sedated him, I'm going to keep him in this state until we can do more. In his current state, he probably won't be able to articulate or make coordinated movements. Presumably, the risk of further injury to his brain while awake is increased as well" "That means Wrecker and I need to go out and get that surgeon," Hunter said with grim determination. Tech nodded in agreement and said, "I need to stay with Echo, monitor him and make sure he doesn't wake up for now."

Crosshair checked messages daily, on the emergency com. He gave the contact information to you and Hunter, no one else, for emergencies. He had written them down in the letter he had left you.

Today was no exception, he checked the com for messages. Crosshair was expecting the same as always, no messages, but surprised to find that someone had actually left him a message. He was even more surprised when he heard your voice. He could hear from the first notes that something was wrong, your voice sounded brittle, quieter than usual, a bit hoarse, as if you had been crying. Crosshair frowned and turned his attention to the com, listening carefully.

"Cross."

He expelled the breath he had been holding. The word sounded so shaky and desperate coming out of your mouth that it made him hot and cold. His thoughts were racing. What had happened?

"It's about Echo. He's been badly injured, his life is hanging by a thread. Hunter and Wrecker are on their way to get help, and Tech stayed with me to keep an eye on Echo. He's… not doing well."

Crosshair blinked, waiting for the message to continue. There was a pause, sorting out your thoughts and words before speaking further.

"I thought you should know that. And if I'm honest… I would feel better if you were here, Echo would want that too if he could talk."

The message ended abruptly. Crosshair stared at his com, heart racing. He didn't even notice that he automatically moved into the cockpit of the shuttle and started the engine, only when his hands took the wheel, he realized that he had already made his decision.

He opened the right com frequency and left a short but clear message.

"I'm on my way, Kitten."

You had fallen asleep on the chair next to Echo's bed at some point. The beeping of your com woke you up. Tired, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and saw that Tech was taking another look at Echo's vitals.

He looked up and looked at you.

"Unchanged," he clarified, "Under the current circumstances, that's good for now."

You nodded and looked at your com, saw the sign for a voice message light up. You played it, immediately recognizing Crosshair's voice.

"I'm on my way, Kitten."

You took a deep breath. The feeling, the hope that everything could be okay again, was suddenly a little more tangible.

Tech looked in your direction again.

"You notified Crosshair?"

"Yes," you said with a nod, "I thought it would be good if we were all together under the circumstances."

Tech blinked and said, "A good idea. Echo would want that too"

"That was my thought exactly"

You stood up, walked over to Echo and looked down at him. His eyes closed, breathing calmly and evenly, several monitoring devices hooked up to him, so Tech could check his vitals at any given moment.

You didn't dare touch him for fear of worsening his fragile condition. Echo looked deceptively peaceful. You knew how bad he was, that behind his sleeping face there was only chaos.

"Tech?"

"Yes?"

Quietly, you asked, "Do you think Echo can make it?"

Tech looked at you and said, "Chances are-"

"No," you interrupted him, "I don't want to hear calculations or odds. What does your gut tell you?"

Tech was silent, blinking and looking at you a little helplessly for a while. Finally, he answered, "I think it's possible. Hunter and Wrecker know how urgent the matter is, they will hurry and so far Echo's condition has not worsened I would say…. there is hope."

Again, you took a deep breath and said, "Thanks Tech."

"There is no need to thank me"

You smiled softly and said, "Thanks anyway."

Again he blinked.

"You're welcome"

The sound of a shuttle landing distracted you. Part of you wanted to jump up and run out to see who was coming, but you stayed rooted to the spot, paralyzed. You heard the door in the main room open, footsteps lunging, and knew before Crosshair appeared in the doorway of the infirmary that it was him.

His gaze roamed the room, lingered on Echo for a long moment, then on you. You wanted to move, but you still felt paralyzed, overwhelmed by your feelings, by the fear for Echo and the simultaneous relief that Crosshair was back, at least temporarily.

He looked at you for a long time, his gaze hard to interpret. Then Tech brought him out of his thoughts.

"It's good you're here," Tech said.

Crosshair nodded silently at him, sighed softly, and finally stepped into the room. At the same moment, you broke free of your stupor and approached him. He stood stiffly, as if rooted to the spot, as you wrapped your arms around him and hugged him. There was nothing loving or tender about the embrace, this hug was desperate for support and comfort.

At first, Crosshair didn't know how to react at all and held completely still. He exchanged a glance with Tech, but he seemed more confused than helpful, and shrugged his shoulders. After what felt like an eternity, he finally returned the hug and said, somewhat awkwardly, "Um, it's going to be okay."

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaw

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

@jediknightjana

@pb-jellybeans

@antishadow2021

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