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rinneverse · 1 year

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࿐ ♡ ˚ . 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 — honkai star rail hcs ˒ ⊹

— synopsis: random hc’s about the ways the hsr men love you.

— characters: dan heng, blade, jing yuan, && gepard.

— warnings: lots of emotions and love and sappy words!!, f!reader, praise, pet names (baby, good girl), p in v penetration, mating press (blade). very soft and fluffy, i think. :-)

— notes: i did not mean to disappear for like 3 months LMFAOOOO ,, but hi! i’m back and the honkai star rail brainrot is STRONG. i hope i did them justice !!

MINORS DNI - 18+ CONTENT BELOW THE CUT.

✧˚ · . 𝐃𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆. ༉‧₊˚.**

→ dan heng is cautious, at first, when it comes to the relationship budding between the two of you. he’s deeply afraid of hurting you, losing you, driving you away.

→ he’s afraid of the intensity in which he loves you—a fire that consumes his very being. his every thought is plagued with you, and it’s something that scares him. but he wants to brave it. for you.

→ your smile, the tilt of your head, the way you carry yourself; he finds himself falling for you harder every day. like he’s been thrown off of a cliff, left to freefall, but the ground is nowhere to be seen.

→ and when he finally gets his hands on you, it’s like a supernova in his chest, an explosion spreading stardust across the whole galaxy. it’s ridiculous, really, how it’s like a giant weight has been lifted off of his shoulders as he holds you in his arms, his lips melding against yours. it’s perfect; two pieces of a puzzle slotting perfectly together.

→ and when he takes you for the first time, in the comfort of your silken sheets, hands intertwined with yours, he finds himself complete—like he doesn’t have to run anymore.

♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

“baby,” dan heng groans into the crook of your neck. his hips stutter a little as he bottoms out, and the feeling of your heat surrounding him sends a violent shiver down his spine. you lay there below him, staring up at him with nothing but adoration in your eyes, and dan heng thinks to himself that he’s never seen anything more ethereal.

“heng,” you sigh, legs wrapping around his lean waist. “you feel so good.”

he can feel his heart hammering in his ribcage, pressing impossibly closer to you as you whisper sweet praises in his ear. he needs you. he needs all of you, and in return, he’ll give you all of him.

when he pulls out, the drag of his heavy cock against your walls has you keening, breath hitching in your throat as just the blunt head is left—and then he’s slamming back in, and you feel like you’re falling, head light and spinning with pleasure as dan heng sets a steady pace.

“please, please, please,” you plead with a sob of his name. dan heng can feel his cock throb with desire at the sound of his name falling from your lips.

“again,” he grunts, rolling his hips so deliciously that it has your lips parting in a silent moan. “say my name again.”

“dan—dan heng!”

he slips a hand between your sweaty bodies, quickly seeking out your aching clit. the moment he’s touching you there, your back is arching and you think that you’re seeing stars behind your eyelids. you cum with another cry of his name and that sends him right along with you, hastily jerking his hips away as his cum spurts all over your navel.

and as he lays there with you, coming down from his high, he thinks that he’s finally found a place he can call home.

✧˚ · . 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐄. ༉‧₊˚.

→ it’s not often you draw verbal affirmations of love from blade. in fact, it’s scarce, and something you’ve come to terms with. rarely do you ever hear the man utter the words, ‘i love you.’

→ instead, you’ve learned to read between the lines with him—the gentle way in which he treats you, the softening of his gaze as it lands on you, the way he protects you with every ounce of his being.

→ blade is not a man who speaks reverent poems, love songs, or otherwise to you. he shows his love through his actions, through his subtle body language, and especially through the way he worships your body. not one inch is left untouched by him, and you are left trembling and dizzy and full of the love that drifts unsaid between the two of you.

→ even as he ravages your body on those rougher nights, you still feel the adoration that overflows from him, in the way he leaves a blazing trail of kisses down the length of your spine, grunts and groans spilling from his lips as he pulls you ever closer.

♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

“blade, wait— please, s’too much,” you sob as blade pistons into you mercilessly. he’s got you folded in half, his mouth hot on the sensitive flesh of your neck as he bites—ripping a sob from deep in your chest.

he doesn’t respond, even as your hands tug at the silky length of his hair—pulling a guttural groan from him. and as he lifts his head to look down at you, tears streaking down your cheeks and drool forming at the corner of your lips; something animalistic, something feral glints in his eyes.

“oh, fuck. you like this, yeah? you like when i use you like this? you’re clenching so good around me. takin’ me so good.” he’s breathless as he speaks, lips swooping down to capture yours in a heated kiss. he’s right—you’re clenching so tightly around him, toes curling as he hits just the right spot inside of you.

you’re floating, weightless and utterly exhausted by the time he’s done with you. blade lays beside you, an arm wrapped around your waist as the two of you take a minute to catch your breath.

“… stay here. i’ll be right back.”

you suppress a laugh as blade rolls out of your bed—as if you were going to move anywhere anytime soon. after a few moments of silence, you hear the bathtub faucet start running. a warm feeling blossoms in your chest as blade returns.

he doesn’t say anything as he scoops you up in his arms. you sluggishly throw your arms around him and plant a wet kiss on his cheek.

“love you, bladie. ♡”

✧˚ · . 𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐔𝐀𝐍. ༉‧₊˚.

→ jing yuan is confident. sly. a renowned general of the cloud knights.

→ so why is it that he’s reduced to a fumbling mess around you? he doesn’t understand. it’s something he struggles to wrap his head around—how one second, he’s thinking of all the ways he’d like to woo you, and the next, he’s flushing, stuttering dumbly as you stare up at him with those damned eyes of yours.

→ maybe that was it. the way your eyes seem to pierce through the essence of his very being; if he didn’t know any better, he’d think you one of fu xuan’s assistants in the divination commission. but he does know better, and it’s something that he’s grateful for—he’s not sure how you would view him had you been under fu xuan’s influence. maybe as a scoundrel, since she’s so insistent on viewing him as one.

→ but enough of that. he’s sick of the way he seems to lose all his swagger around you, so one day he sucks it up, puts his big boy general pants on, and asks you out on a dinner date. the way you tilt your head at him has his heart seizing in his chest—until you laugh so gently, a smile gracing your lips as you nod your head.

→ a melodic sound: that’s what your laugh was to him. he’d like to hear that over and over and over again. perhaps he’d like to draw other melodies out of you, play you like an instrument—but for now, he’s content with this.

♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

there’s electricity in the air, a tension on the verge of snapping as jing yuan guides you to your bed. hickeys litter the vast expanse of your neck and collar, something that makes his chest swell with pride. with desire.

he’s the one doing this to you—the one causing that foggy daze in your eyes as you look at him with such adoration, pupils blown wide. he can feel the lust in your gaze; he’s returning it tenfold with his own golden ones. he grins down at you.

“baby,” he says. “spread your legs for me. there you go—good girl.”

he hums, pleased, as you listen obediently. he flips up the fabric of your skirt, pausing at the sight of the lacy white panties you wore. his tongue flicks out to wet his lips.

oh, he was going to devour you. whole.

you thread a hand through his soft hair as he lowers himself to the apex of your thighs, breath ghosting over the most sensitive part of you—you’re so worked up that even the fabric in between barely does anything to separate you from him.

“sweetheart,” jing yuan speaks lowly. his voice is a deep rumble, and your thighs would’ve clenched together if it weren’t for his strong hands holding you open.

“i want to absolutely ruin you.”

✧˚ · . 𝐆𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐃. ༉‧₊˚.

→ gepard’s large stature is juxtaposed by the gentle way he treats you. as if you were fragile glass, or perhaps a beautiful statue made of ice, his every touch is.. not quite hesitant, but calculated, made to only treat you with reverence. he worships you, your very soul, everything that you are. he adores you.

→ he is a protector at his core. he would do anything for you. he is always sure to take care of you before himself - your pleasure comes first. in fact, he thinks that he gets off when he makes you feel good. it makes his chest swell with pride and his cock twitch with desire.

→ often, he’s occupied on the frontlines, protecting belobog with all of his might. that just makes the time spent together with you even more precious. it’s not something he takes for granted—whatever time you get together, you best believe all of his attention is on you.

→ he’s treating you to a candlelit dinner, buying you flowers, taking you shopping, the whole package. he’s got a captain’s salary, after all—and he’s using it all to spoil you. he buys you promise rings and a necklace with his initial on it, pretty earrings and bracelets and other trinkets to remind you of him when he’s away. he leaves you his clothes, sprayed with his cologne, when he knows he’ll be gone for longer than he wants to be.

♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

“gepard,” you say gently, running a hand through his hair as he holds your hips tight. you straddle him, plush thighs pressed against his stronger ones as he ruts up against you. “slow down, baby, we have time..”

time. time was something that was becoming increasingly more scarce—more precious. he’d like to spend all his time with you, but duty calls; and so he treats this time he can spend with you as sacred, and he’d like to not waste a single second.

“i know, i know,” he says, voice strained with want. “it’s been so long. i need you.”

you’re not used to gepard being so forward like this—but it wasn’t something you were particularly against, either; the way he guides your hips down against his cock has a soft moan bubbling up in your throat.

“let me show you how much i love you.” he says, running strong hands along your sides. it sends a shiver up your spine, your heart hammering in your chest as he pulls you close.

you nod your head, heart full with adoration and want and everything that is gepard. “please.”

and he does, undressing you carefully and unravelling you at the core. and when he deems you ready, he’s sliding his heavy cock along your folds, drawing a whine from your throat. he only smiles as you desperately rut your hips to no avail, held down by his large hands.

he doesn’t tease for long, though—he never does, not when he values your pleasure above everything else. you let out a sob of relief as you feel him slowly slide in, cunt spasming around his thick girth as he inches in slowly. he’s always so careful with you—knows that he’s bigger than average, so he has to take his time. he doesn’t mind; never once has.

he holds you close as he makes love to you, bodies melding together perfectly. if the warmth and love between you two was something physical, he thinks that it could melt the eternal freeze that plagues belobog.

please don't repost on other platforms. rbs and comments are super appreciated ♡ !!

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 7 months

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Black Metal and Bourbon (I)

AU MASTERLIST || PART II

PAIRING: Biker/Mechanic!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Bartender!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 8.1k

WARNINGS: Alcohol consumption, drug usage, mentions of sex & intimacy, dark jokes/dirty jokes, rumors, gossip, past toxic relationship, a shitty Ex, protective!Simon, etc. (18+ mini-series)

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You slapped the damp rag back into the bar top, the fabric heavy with spilled alcohol and other fluids that you didn’t even want to try and think about.

“Jesus.” Your muscles ache, neck stiff from having to try and slap a dart from the ceiling where some jackass had been too drunk to attempt and hit the target. The thing was still up there, as you weren’t about to spend your entire night fruitlessly attempting to fix someone else's blurry mistakes.

You glare over your shoulder, seeing the unconscious form of the man in question being dragged out by his friends presently, his slurring chuckles making him sound like a drowning elephant. Intoxicated yells of goodbye attached to your name make you roll your eyes slowly as they begin being said; you push through the waist-height door to allow you behind the front counter. Your middle finger flips the patrons off before boisterous flirting hits the air.

“C’mon baby, don’t be like that—!” Is cut off by the slam of the front doors and you couldn’t be more happy that your boss hadn’t gotten the bolts tightened.

“Don’t get paid enough…” You grumble, eyes slithering over to the tip jar and seeing the overflow of bills and coins as your fingers wrap the neck of a bottle of Vodka.

The profit would be split with your coworker even if she’d been gone for more than half a night getting railed by her new boy toy. You can still remember the look she’d given you as she’d walked out during rush hour, her sharp smirk and smug sheen of ‘you won’t say anything, will you?’

Grumbling under your breath, you slip the Vodka back into its slot on the wall racks, while telling yourself you can’t drink on the job; trying to forget the face of the man that had been attached to hers before they’d stumbled to the back alley.

“Graham Whitaker, you’re such a five-cent sell-out,” you shake your head, sighing heavily into the air that smells like booze and sweat.

Graham Whitaker—your Ex in every sense.

You decided to tell your coworker, if she ever showed back up, that the only reason she was getting dicked-down was because it was that man’s plan to try and make you jealous. As if you’d be caught with your pants down over a prick that had cheated on you more times than you could count before you threw his ass out.

“Not my problem anymore,” your hands move to display themselves in a motion of a settled disagreement before wiping them on your black pants.

It was late now, of course, with the dart-drunk and his friends being the last patrons that you had to serve. But you’d been in this town a long, long time.

Sorrel the construction worker came in an hour, Miss Anna-Lee accompanying for her nightly Gin and Tonic before she talked about her late love from the seventies. From there it was three more regulars before closing activities and fighting to get up tomorrow by noon only to do it all over again.

Over and over and over.

You lean back on the counter and look across the brown wood and warm overhead lights, behind you, the illumination from the drink rack gives off a dead glow.

This was your workplace since you'd been of age, and over the years that seemed to drag, here is where you’d stayed. Nothing ever changed in this town—the biggest shock was when you’d broken up with Graham; people hadn’t stopped talking about it for months.

This place was like a prison of slow death and abandoned dreams. Safe to say this was not what you had envisioned for yourself.

You scoff, pushing off the back counter and snatching your rag back up before you can spiral once more.

The stains weren’t going to buff themselves out.

Maybe it was chance that the mechanics shop across the street had shut down, too few employees and too many drug busts. Chance, or fate, whichever it was you chose to believe in that still-air Sunday, it was still a shock to you when you looked out the front window as Sorrel called goodnight through his heavy accent.

‘SOLD’

“Sold?” Sorrel pauses with one foot out of the door, and he chuckles when he sees where you’re looking in shock, your hand holding a dirty glass.

“Haven’t heard, then? Few newcomers snuck in under our noses—they’ll be running the place; mechanics!”

“New?” You laugh. “Who in their right mind would come here of all places?”

Sorrel shakes his head, grumbling as he pulls a cigarette from his pocket. “You’ll just have to meet ‘em, Doll. Sure you’ll leave a glowing impression.”

“Take that shit outside, you ass. You know I hate the smell.” A smirk graces your dead eyes.

“Like I said. Glowing.” You glare, but the man slips out of the door quickly and his form passes by the window outside to climb into his truck parked in the street. Two honks from the horn and the older man is off, grizzly-like beard gone just like your boredness.

New arrivals?

You blink at the blackened shadows of the street, illuminated by the lights and their tall tree-like bases—the sway of the planted bushes in the boxes outside. Your head tilts at the abyssal building that was once in working order.

It was a shitshow now, years of abandonment not giving it any helping hand regarding upkeep. The concrete was cracked, the garage door was hanging off of one side, and the front windows had been broken by your Ex’s buddies when they had gotten into a fight like the three-year-olds they were.

You hum lowly. A hard-chucked set of keys, you recalled. You’d seen it from here easily enough. Hadn't lied to Sheriff Russel when he’d come knocking, and, you suppose, that was why even now the immature posse still tried to scare you by following you home at night to this day.

As if everyone didn’t know where everyone else lived already.

But back to the current interest for the night.

“Let’s have a little look-see, then,” you breathe, knowing Miss Anna-Lee would be a good while away like always. You could chance five minutes—it was just across the street after all.

Shuffling outside, making sure to hold the door until it closes slowly, you step down the single step and stick your hands into your pockets. The night wasn’t hot or cold, simply there like a metaphorical cut on your palm; it wasn’t surprising the more you lived with it, but it still made your skin itch.

Feet padding, you cross the dead street and take in the long stretch of unkempt grass, stepping onto the broken curb as your shoes crunch broken glass. Long-gone cigarette butts are scattered here and there, the occasional stray bit of metal or trash. Your eyes shift slowly from one brick that makes up the frame to another, the peeling blue color that could use touching up.

The mural you had painted in middle school had faded a long time ago, just like the great expectations of going into an art career. The eyes of a great gray wolf are only a dark outline that you can’t help but stare at as if a cancer was growing in your brain, hidden behind the reach of green ivy.

Ripping your eyes away, you ignore the cry of tires from across the town and the pop of an exhaust pipe—the roar of either a car chase by the repeat offender Irene Chaney, or by some stupid kid related to Irene Chaney.

“She’s gonna wreck one of these days,” you breathe, looking down at your object of intention—the sold sign in all of its red and white glory.

Your hand snakes out and grabs the cheap plastic, stopping its swaying with a creak and a tilt of your head.

You just couldn’t understand it—who in their right mind would buy this place? The only thing it would be good as is rubble, at least then some rabbit could make its very dusty home here.

Sorrel had mentioned multiple people too.

“Must be up at the B&B then,” your voice carries over the space, the stars twinkling above you as a shadow stands at the end of the cracked driveway. Its hands are in its pockets, tall form bulky with the dark brown leather jacket around its intimidating form. You’re none the wiser, letting the sign drop as you put your hands to your hips. “They better not be fuckin’ dickheads—”

“Mind explainin’ to me why I came to get a drink and now I’m talkin’ to some Bird on my property?”

You startle, gasp peeling out of your lips as your head swivels as if attached to a string which, in turn, tracks back to the source of a heavy Manchester accent. Grass breaks under your feet, as the gravel of the tone makes you cringe. Your eyes lock on the man who looks like he just came back from a warzone.

The first thing you noticed was the balaclava and the skeleton detailing, of course, how could you not—the lower half was an inch below those October eyes of the deepest shade of brown you’d ever witnessed.

Your spine straightens in cautious surprise, hiding the way your hands had clenched as if ready to swing on your Ex if he so happened to be there instead of…this person.

“Excuse me?” You say, quickly, as if it was forced out instead of a scream. Your face pushes that stern expression back to your face as your throat clears out the hoarseness.

A covered head tilts with its small sliver of pale flesh visible to you—the strong bones of his nose bridge and hidden jawline. The bulk of large muscles and thighs spoke to hard labor, and his booted feet shifted below loose black cargo pants.

The mask alone caused you a hint of worry in those few seconds of fast study of this phantom’s anatomy.

He blinks at you slowly, raising the small corner of a dark brow from a respectable distance away.

“Said you’re trespassing, yeah?” Your face gains a sheen of heat, and you glance at your bar behind the stranger, at the bright burn of the lights.

Taking a stiff breath, your lips pull into a frown as you try to hide your embarrassment.

“Well…a holler would have been just fine.” A fake glare is put on. “What’s with sneaking up on a woman in the middle of the night? Are you some creep or something?”

Those dark eyes stay locked on yours, and for a moment you don’t know if you’ve encountered a statue or not because he doesn’t speak for a moment.

A puff of breath from his nose.

“You the bartender, then?” You motion to your nametag above your left breast and grunt. His gaze homes in before he simply says, “Good.”

Without another word, the man turns stiffly before he steadily begins making his way back to the bar; crossing the street with a swift check of the road. You watch him saunter off, jaw slackened and your cheeks hot. The span of his shoulder blades levels out as he rolls his shoulders.

Where did this guy even come from? The answer was simple, the bed and breakfast was only four buildings down and to the left. Guy must have come in for a late-night serenade with a bottle.

A quick glance is thrown back to the rundown property behind you before you growl and hurry after this individual who currently pushes open the faulty doors of your work. Jogging across the asphalt, you catch the thing right before it closes and slip inside with a puff of air and a shoved-down snap of a sarcastic ‘thanks’.

Yet, the man is already pulling back one of the bar stools and easing into it when you make it behind the counter. You study him yet again.

“You’re one of the new mechanics?” Brown-Eyes blinks at you.

Without missing a beat, he goes, “Bourbon—Kentucky.”

“I asked a question,” you cross your arms, not even for a moment looking away as the silence of the bar sneaks in around you and this strange creature. “Least you can do for a lady is answer it when you act like a damn cat and sneak up on her.”

“You were on my property.” This is leveled out through a grunt, and after a moment of staring, you scoff.

“I was curious about who had bought such a piece of junk. Guess I have my answer.” Your hand grabs the bottle of Kentucky Bourbon, the amber liquid inside sloshing as you turn back and put it into the wood. There’s a fraction of a dead tease that makes the man seem more human than he looks.

“Well, aren't you a ray of sunshine?”

“I prefer a solar flair.” You comment dryly and set an engraved glass next to the bottle. Something flickers past the mechanic’s eyes, a quirk to the fabric of his balaclava.

“On The Rocks or Neat?” Your brow raises and you tilt your head.

“That even a bloody question? Neat.” You snort, splaying your hands before you grab the bottle as he watches you blankly.

“Sorry, it's kind of my job to ask.” Your hand shifts and you pour a reasonable amount into the glass, knowing exactly when to stop. As you shift the bottle away, you leave it on the bar top and gently push the beverage to him as his gloved fingers take it up. You repress a small smile at the matching bone gloves to go with the detailing on his balaclava.

“Bartenders always have this much attitude?” The glass is kept in front of his person, carefully held in his large grip.

Moving back, you go to lean on the back counter. This night was quickly taking an interesting turn. “Only if they’re me.” You sigh. “You have a name, then, Brown-Eyes?”

The individual snorts at the title, but his eyes narrow on you at the same time as if he was held hesitant at the ability for you to make him. He had an air of casual tension around him, like a dog on a thin leash that can only just manage to meet others and stay his fangs.

Danger, you pinpoint. The man felt like danger. A riptide; surface tension.

Then why was it that you felt more and more intrigued by the second?

“Simon Riley,” he eases, staring with those numb eyes of his before he tips the glass slightly your way. With the thumb on the same hand that holds the bourbon, he hooks it under his face covering and pulls it up until he can connect the glass to his lips and take down a sip as his Adam’s apple bobs in a swallow.

On the way back, his thumb drags the fabric back to its previous position as if nothing had happened. The image of pale skin and stubble sticks with you, and your eyes shift away quickly without you realizing it as the glass is returned to the counter.

“Well, Simon Riley,” you mutter, “welcome to nowhere.”

The man hums, eyes looking you over in a single glance before the gaze shifts to the wall behind your head. He says nothing, and the door opens to the next three familiar customers as you move to take their order. As you slip out from behind the barrier, you grumble under your breath before you slip past Simon to the corner booth.

“For the record, Riley, I do enjoy seein’ that old place getting taken on. Don’t run it into the ground, would you? And if you need a fresh coat of paint, for the love of all things holy, don’t go down to the Schafersons’ place, you come right to me.”

Walking casually, you greet the three ladies from the downtown library with a smirk and an easy comment about if their husbands knew they were out so late, to which you promptly got cursed out on good faith. Sharing a few chuckles, you get them started on what they need, all the while feeling those brown orbs now following subtly from the side of their sockets, intrigued.

Simon wasn’t sure what to make of you, and the same could be said about this town as a whole. A woman with such a future trapped behind her eyes, adventure in her blood, why were you here in a place with nothing promised for it except dying businesses and old faces? This was a place where people came to hang up the coat, not try and rip it off of its peg.

The children born here with ambitions leave, that was the common denominator. Even Simon could see that. But you? Here you were.

The man peels his eyes away, taking up his glass again and re-hooking his thumb to his mask. Amber liquid seeps into his mouth, pulling the scars on his lips and cheeks as he swallows it down as easily as water. The bourbon pools in his stomach, sending its honied effects to the back of his mind; it would take much more to get drunk, but that wasn’t what Simon was looking for.

Perhaps he was just out tonight wondering why he’d left the military for a mechanic’s job and come out here—asking anything for a sign that this was the right decision even as his head echoed with the screams and the gunfire.

And then he’d seen you standing in front of the fuckin’ worst mechanics shop he’d ever seen that he’d signed the property deed for not three hours ago. Hell, he hadn’t even looked at the place before buying it—Price was responsible for the official financial actions, and the man had made him swear that it was worth it.

But fuck, he’d just needed a way out of the city. Too loud, too unpredictable in that previous shop of theirs right by the busy street. MacTavish and Garrick had been easy to convince; they’d all served together before and had no family over here either.

A new start thousands upon thousands of miles away.

Your head pulls up from where you chat with the librarians, hearing the slam of the door as the draft wafts in from outside—a small breeze has picked up.

Inside walks in your very ruffled, and very well-pleased, coworker, Celina Bell.

She brushes down her top and black skirt, blinking around with blown pupils until her eyes lock on you. A poisonous smile meets your eyes as you raise a brow slowly—Lord, if this girl didn’t realize that fucking your Ex over some workplace squabble wasn’t something to be proud of, she was really a lost cause.

Simon only glances over his shoulder before turning back around and tapping his fingers against his glass absentmindedly.

“You alright?” You ask out of due diligence, sparing the ladies an apology look for them being interrupted.

“Better than alright,” Celina chuckles, walking over with a limp in her step. “Just scored Graham Whitaker.” She fake pauses, blinking as if in realization that a child would know was taking the piss. Your face is stuck in the expression of boredom. “Wait…you two were involved for a few years, right? Oh, I’m really sorry—I had no clue.”

“Yeah,” you look her up and down and blink at the disheveledness. “Sure. Quite the score.” A pause, her lips pulling back into that smug smirk that reminds you of a weasel. Yet your next words leave her face devoid of blood. “You know he got Chlamydia from Stacy Green a week ago, right?”

A pin could be heard dropping. Brown eyes are firmly stuck to the scene, unsure what to make of it. The ladies stifle their laughter.

“...W-what?”

“Y’know,” you motion a hand to her lower body, walking past her back to the bar. “STD. Chlamydia. Results in—”

“I know what the fuck an STD is, you bitch.”

“Woah,” you whistle, “language.” Your body returns to the counter as loud stuttering is left behind you, the frantic patting of a pocket to look for a phone before enraged feet rush to the exit. “Need a refill, Riley?”

“It can wait,” Simon utters slowly. The door slams shut.

You chuckle, shrugging. “Alright, suit yourself.”

The man takes the names you drop and files them away, slotting them into his mental database for when he needs to work with these people. Yet, there’s already a sour impression just off of comments alone. Who better to get your news from than a bartender?

You know everyone's dirty little secrets.

You diligently serve the drinks to the librarians, placing them down carefully before Simon once more has a re-filled glass of his drink. He moves it slightly up in a cheer and gives you a stare as you wipe your hands with a clean rag.

“Seems you know everything ‘round ‘ere.” His accent is what draws you in, and you find yourself eager to hear more from him.

“I’m easy to talk to,” you respond, shrugging and leaning on the counter a foot or two away as you both watch the other. A smirk overtakes your features. “And I am the one that gives people the drinks.”

“So, what I’m hearing,” Simon raises a brow. “Is that you get ‘em dunker than a man on his execution date.”

You click your tongue, tilting your head in a teasing manner while maintaining a serious face.

“Afraid you’ll spill your secrets, Riley?”

His eyes flash at you, and his lips flicker into a smirk you can hear in his voice.

“It’ll take more than two glasses of Bourbon to get me talking, Sunshine.”

Your face shifts away, but the sudden fight with a smile leaves you nearly breathless.

Who is this man?

“Why are you here,” your question meets his ears as he takes back the last of his drink, stomach filled for the night and his searching, for the moment, abated.

The glass meets the bar top.

He grunts. “Needed a drink.”

Your lips pull in annoyance. “You know what I mean. You’re terrible at answering questions.”

“Hm, maybe.”

“Fuck off,” you grumble, shaking your head as a low chuckle makes your insides swirl.

A stack of bills is placed on the counter, and the man stands, grabbing the hood of his black sweatshirt and pulling it up. His gloved hands go to the pockets of his leather jacket with a roll of his wide shoulders. From under the hood, the white of the painted mask glares out from under the shadows that now shroud him.

You both sneak a glance at the mechanic's shop—a clear view from the front window.

“See you around, then?” Your head is tilted at him, blinking. You hum under your breath. “I’m going to keep asking you why you showed up in this town, Riley, and I won’t stop until I get an answer.”

Simon quirks a brow, eyes glinting with interest. When was the last time someone had spoken to him like this outside of his boys?

“Look forward to it,” he utters slowly. With a blink and one more dead look, he’s already out the front door and walking back down the street—disappearing like a ghost the same way he had appeared.

Picking up his cash and counting through it, the librarians across the way snicker, and one calls out, “So, the new mechanic, huh?”

“One more peep and I’m doubling your tab.”

But…you did have to admit, he had been charming…hadn’t he? At least someone here could juggle your attitude.

—

Three days pass with no sighting of Simon Riley, but just because you didn’t see him doesn’t mean you weren’t witness to his aftermath.

The shop across the street was practically fixed up while you were asleep.

Where there had been overgrown grass, there was now a cut lawn getting watered by the reach of an angry sprinkler. The fast movement of the spray reaches the sidewalk that was, somehow, still there under all that trash hiding away like a criminal. Stray bricks are gone and stacked into a pile as you pause outside the bar, staring wide-eyed with your breath caught in your throat in the late morning air.

The ivy over your mural was peeled back—that faded wolf’s gaze locking with yours, unyielding to the calls of time as its canid body stool as a silent sentinel.

But, on the third day, as you’re going on break before the night sets in, you manage to not only see Simon again but meet two of the other men who’d moved here.

You pick up your feet and jog across the street, hopping the curb as you blink, impressed at the open garage with its fixed and oiled bay door. Inside it was still dusty—remnants of what was left behind in the corners and scattered. But it was getting there. Quickly.

“Didn’t know Simon was goin’ to sign on such a piece of rusted shite—where’s the fuckin’ outlets?” Gritted Scottish. You stick your hands into your pockets and enter the large opening.

“If I remember,” you speak, finding the two men standing slightly off to the side as the bulkier one with a mohawk carries a series of extension cords. Cobalt and brown eyes dart to you in shock—the second man of darker complexion sharing a glance with the other in swift confusion. “When you manage to find them, they’ll all be burst.”

Blank stares are sent your way.

“Kids would come by and watch ‘em spark when they were bored. No one really cared enough to stop them.” A clearing of a throat meets your ears as you study the room more.

It was small, with only one main garage for all the repairs, but that wasn’t new to you. The motorcycles were, though.

Five in total all parked and resting next to one another near the back wall, all in varying shades of black and gray. Your lips twitch at the sight, imagining your late-night acquaintance riding one of them—you dare say that it fit him quite well, and you weren’t that surprised at all by this.

Biker mechanics. It fits the script.

“Who’s this then?” The Scot asks you, raising a brow as a friendly smirk pulls his mouth up. “Can’t remember bookin’ any repairs today, Ma’am, might have to wait a few more days before we get it all up and runnin’.”

“I can see. No, I work just across the street,” you spare a friendly smile.

“So you’re the bartender? The bartender.” The second man speaks, grinning kindly as he searches through a toolbox on a small table. He hums, looking playful. “So that’s why Ghost was gone so long.”

Ghost…? Did they mean Simon?

The skeletal accents suddenly make far more sense.

“Johnny MacTavish,” A hand is leveled out ahead of you, and you take it casually with a muttering of your own name. “Soap’s just fine as well.”

Your brow quirks, but you only share an amused nod.

The other individual stands and makes his way over, tall and leaner as to where Soap’s more blatant strength is.

“Kyle Garrick—Gaz. Pleasure.”

“Just came over to introduce myself,” your hand shifts back into your pockets as you motion with your head back to the bar. “I’m on my break.”

“Ah,” Soap’s hands move the cables he holds as he loops them into a more storable shape vertically around his elbow and palm. “Last one to meet then is Price—man’s in town gettin’ lunch for us,” he grunts under his breath. “Hopefully a damn set of zip-ties, too.”

“Zip-ties, Mate?” Gaz breathes a chuckle with a fix of the backward ball cap on his head. “C-4 would bloody help more. At least then we can have a clean starting point.”

“I think we’re fresh out of C-4, unfortunately,” you huff a laugh, motioning around as the men smirk at you, Johnny snorting a chuckle. “You guys have done a pretty good job so far. I can’t remember when it looked this nice in here.”

“Well, we’re honored, Bonnie,” Soap tilts his head as he ties off the cord with one of the ends. “Makin’ me blush.”

“If Simon had just looked at the place before buying it, we might have been able to open sooner.” Gaz huffs, thinning his lips as he glances over the broken window and the peeling paint—the door to the main lobby that has a punched dent in it. “Couldn’t be worse.”

“Well then it can only get better,” you breathe, shrugging.

Gaz huffs affectionately. “Not wrong there, then.”

You lean forward, tilting your head. “You’ll find I rarely am.”

“Second time you’ve snuck on,” a Manchester accent scares you once more, head snapping to the side as the light spills in from the garage opening. “This a pattern, Sunshine?”

Simon’s brows are raised as those October eyes lock with yours. Gaz and Soap share a look, smirking before the Scot peels off to find a place to store his belongings.

“Where have you been?” Gaz asks as you glare at the masked man for once again coming up behind you.

A bag is presented, leaning off three fingers as a glance gets thrown past you.

“Down the street. Needed these made.” The bag is tossed and Kyle catches it easily.

You watch as the crinkly plastic is opened and the dark fabric of four black pairs of overalls is produced, each embroidered with their respective names.

“What’s wrong with the old ones?” Johnny pipes up, brows furrowed.

“Looks like you got fuckin’ mugged in ‘em.” Simon slides his attention back to you as Johnny curses with a glint of amusement in his blues.

“Aren’t open yet.” Your face peels back to a stiff annoyance.

“I can see that, Riley.” You motion to the other men. “I was being polite.”

He grunts while walking past, muttering through a brief smirk, “Doubt that.”

Your jaw slackens, but you only growl and hold your tongue as you glance the mechanic over. He still had his leather jacket, but a loose shirt took the place of a hoodie.

“You ready to answer my question?” Simon locks those eyes with yours from over his shoulder before sliding up to the black form of one of the motorcycles.

Visible to the naked eye, you take in the lack of fairings around the frame—eyeing the pure black metal of the entire engine from any angle that you might move to you’d still be able to see. It was nice. Perfect, even; damn expensive too. While the thought was enticing, you can’t imagine Simon riding it—he seemed more rugged, more…classy.

“Negative.” You roll your eyes, but Soap speaks before you can retort.

“Finally takin’ out the CB1000R, Ghost? ‘Bout time.” The brute throws a blank look at the Scot as Gaz utters to you a few feet away before a casual ‘no’ is leveled out through the space.

“He got it months ago,” Kyle’s eyes crinkle. “Can’t seem to take it out for a ride yet. No one knows what he’s waiting on.”

“Can’t say I blame him,” your words confide. “It’s beautiful.”

“It was a fucking fortune—no use collecting dust is what I say.” You hum, shifting back to Simon who taps the seat of the CB1000R before moving past it to an older cruiser with dents and dirt along the sides. This was more him you thought. Rugged and more dated than the first; something you use on long rides to nowhere.

“Maybe he’s just waiting for a special occasion,” you guess.

“Better get on with it.” Gaz moves away with a shrug and a huff.

Your lips pull in a small smile, and you watch Simon pull keys from his jacket and insert them as he moves to straddle the larger body of the cruiser, easing into it slowly. Staring, you think about how far that bike could take you—what you could see with it on the open road of possibilities and whipping air. Where would you go? Anywhere. Anywhere and everywhere.

Eyes shifting away from the motorcycle, they widen as they softly meet Simon’s own—locked for a moment in a staring contest. His lids barely pull down, studying something. You clear your throat and exhale.

Sensing your company was most likely a hindrance at this point, you turn to leave as the engine flares—you wave easily behind your back with a call of well-wishes.

“Come have a drink one time, boys, yeah? I need stories that come from strangers for once.” A ruckus of ‘affirmatives’ and ‘will do, Ma’ams’ sparks up from Johnny and Kyle as you exit to the roar of the motorcycle behind you, your feet kicking a stray rock into the grass before you make it to the curb.

Before you can cross, a steel body blocks your path.

“I’ll be needing a drink later tonight, then.” Simon watches from atop his seat, one booted foot to the ground to steady himself as he comes to a slow halt. His fingers curl the handles, twitching.

“Let me guess,” you tilt your head, smirking, “Bourbon?”

“A woman after my own heart,” he draws numbly, October browns as dead as mulch. As dead as dirt.

“And do you have a heart, Simon Riley?” You question, blinking at him as your mind tells you to walk away. Your brain doesn’t need a repeat of Graham—you already had enough problems on your plate right now besides some attraction to this stranger. This push and pull made your heart jerk, even when you know it shouldn’t.

You’d only just met him.

The man hums, thighs shifting on the black metal frame. He says the easiest answer he can.

“A cold one.”

Pushing on the ground, he takes off down the road back into the main town for whatever errand he was on this time. Your eyes follow until the figure is no more than a memory of the smell of oil and the metallic tinge of caution.

—

You hated the smell of cigarette smoke.

Like a pregnant woman’s aversion to the scent of meat, you grew nauseous at the very hint of cheap tobacco and paper on the air—loathed the burn of it. It had to do with your Ex, of course. The man had been a habitual chain smoker, lighting up one after the other until you had to leave his house entirely to puke on the front lawn. If you thought about it hard enough, you could still taste the ash on your tongue from when he kissed you after lighting up.

But that was only one of the reasons you’d never moved in with him despite being together for years—the cheating was the other problem.

Girl after girl, broken promise after broken promise, you’d still held onto him as if he deserved it. Hell, all that Graham Whitaker deserved were the copious amounts of STDs he probably had after sleeping with as many women as he could to try and get back at you. You didn’t have ample reason to ban him from the bar—him or his loud-mouth friends, you should say—so the problem, like a bad rash, persisted. Cars following you after work and all.

But, the here, the now.

Simon had, in fact, come in for that drink that night—just as he had for the last week up until the grand opening of the boys’ shop. You’d both spoken throughout these encounters and formed some sarcastic and sly-looked bond that the other locals couldn’t understand. You had even learned about his military service.

The both of you were just…different, people said. No one else really argued with it.

You finally met John Price before the party that you’d heard from Simon that Soap and Gaz had been eager to host for the town—‘come meet the bastards that bought that old shitty building and see how they fixed it up all by themselves. You should come and give us your money.’

It was there that a proposal was offered.

“Simon says you told him to come to you about paint.” John was late thirties, keeping a well-trimmed beard with a mustache that was the same shade of brunette as his head of hair. Tall, as well as built, he had found you as you were closing up the bar early for the town-wide party, Celina having already slipped out.

You were dressed in a long skirt and a nice shirt for the occasion.

“John Price, I’d imagine,” you comment, stuffing your keys into your pocket as your purse hangs from your shoulder. A throaty grunt tells you all you need to know as you move down the step. “Yeah, I did say that. Do you need some?” You look over his shoulder to the still peeling color on the outside of the bricks as the men are dragging out folding chairs and long tables. There was the clatter of laughter and loud calls.

John’s blue eyes shift behind him, and he raises a brow slowly.

“Thinkin’ we’d just hire you,” a side-eye. “If you’d be interested.”

That was a surprise.

You begin walking across the street, the man beside you and awaiting your answer.

“Hire me?” Your voice asks, but you aren’t against the idea. “How do you know I’ll be any good at it,” you chuckle in question.

“Simon says he found your initials next to the mural—the wolf.” Your feet pause, stuttering for a second before you catch yourself. The blood on your face stops its circulation in shock. “Not a bad piece, then.” John grunts. “...Think you can do a skull and wings?”

So, you sat with your sketchbook in front of the wall, a portable camping chair below your bare feet as your legs folded under you. Your slip-on sneakers rest in the green grass, kicked off with a sigh. Blinking, the chatter and mumble from the party surround you in a sheen of community and calmness. You can pinpoint every voice, every story being re-told as if new news when it goes in one ear and out the other like a breeze on the wind.

Humming under your breath as the sun is low in the sky, you hear the silent feet still from over your shoulder. A smirk flickers your lips.

“Snooping, Riley?”

“My building.” He grumbles, “Seein’ what you plan to do to it.”

You snort, looking over your shoulder and smiling. “If I recall, you’re the one who took up my offer and told Price about it.”

Simon was dressed in cargos and a compression shirt pushed up to his elbows, the swell of his forearms on full display along with the scars and…tattoos. You blink at them, the swirl of black skulls and guns; barbed wire and dog tags—the dark images that fit him as his motorcycles did on his left limb. Brown eyes flicker from yours to the painted wolf.

“Good at that,” the man says, balaclava shifting.

Your expression slowly shifts to something far softer than you can remember it ever being; inside of your chest, your heart tightens.

“Thank you.”

He levels you, the corners of his eyes easing out of the numb nothingness to show something akin to shielded affection. Molten sunlight on the side of his face, making the color of his irises glow amber. Simon nods to your sketchbook, clearing his throat.

“I able to see it, then, or is it some secret?” You huff.

“Come here,” your hand motions, palm brushing away eraser shavings as your fingers get stained with graphite. The shadow comes closer, leaning over you as the scent of oil pools in your gut. You blink at the side visage, swiftly looking back down to your sketchbook as a slight wind ruffles your skirt.

“Price was talking about a skull with wings beside it—later on he made mention of a sword through the top.” While you explain the concept, you inadvertently study the tattoos on the flesh beside you, one scarred hand coming out to lightly grab the armrest of your chair as Simon leans even closer.

As your face begins burning, breath caught in your throat, he blinks down at the image as he looms, head tilting.

Simon breathes, chest rising and falling as his eyes go far off. You know the symbol means something, though you also have a good guess that it’s related to this group’s time in the service.

He hums, and you see his lips open, the rough grate of his vocal cords as he begins to form words for you.

“It’s—”

Your name is loudly called from across the way, both Simon’s and your heads snapping back as you both realize exactly how close you two have become. The stealing of the other’s warmth like wraiths of hidden longing ceases when you wrench your attention to the man you wished would leave you alone.

Graham raises the dark bottle of a cheap beer from the dollar store in your direction, walking over. Now, your Ex wasn’t anything spectacular, but even you had to admit it was the best you could do around here if you didn’t want to date men only five years from the grave. Graham was tall, strong, and heavy-willed like a bear. In the day hours, he worked as a farmhand down the way.

Your body tenses, eyes going tight. Simon sees.

“Who’s this,” he asks slowly, fingers twitching.

“Ex,” you mutter, grimacing. “He’s going to make a scene.”

Already gazes had started drifting over, conversations lapsing into mute silence as orbs shifted to three different individuals all stuck in the same storm.

Simon grunts, standing up to his full height and crossing his arms over his chest, legs shifting below him and thighs trading weight. His moving leaves half of you kept firmly behind him and your eyes study his stance as you notice that fact. You blink, and feel something stir in your ribcage, blooming like a flower.

“Hey, Bartender!” Graham takes a cigarette out of his pocket and lights it as his fingers fumble over the neck of the bottle. “Though I’d seen you over here missing all the action. Nothing’s changed I see.”

Your face pulls in with disgust.

“Graham, you’re drunk. Go home.” It was true—his words were slurring, his limbs loose with drink. He smirks at you, taking a drag of his cancer stick and puffing it directly at you. Your hand snaps to your nose to try and cover the horrendous smell.

“Nah,” he breathes. “I’m here with Celina, see’s a pretty nice lookin’ broad don’t you think? Not as good of a fuck as you, but, hey, I take what I get.” His expression shifts to hidden anger and Simon takes a heavy step forward before he can finish the rest of his sentence, hands shifting to grasp his biceps harder. Those browns simmer with low ferality—a warning.

The air gets heavy.

“Pretty good little lie you spread about me gettin’ that shit from Stacy.”

“That was a lie?” You drawl lazily and watch your Ex’s eyes flash with rage. But he should know you don’t take shit from him anymore. “Oh,” your fingers tighten over your flesh and make you sound stuffy. “Maybe I heard wrong, you’re right. You don’t have Chlamydia.” You glare. “It was Gonorrhea, wasn’t it?”

“Bitch!” Graham barks, moving forward, but before anyone can realize it, Simon already has him shoved back with a stone-like push to your Ex’s chest.

“Not smart, Mate.” The former soldier utters, arms falling back to his sides. The party by this point had entirely halted in sharp gasps and bated breath.

Graham’s beer bottle shatters as it hits the ground, the grass not able to absorb the way it slams down to dirt. Your wide eyes stay stuck on Simon’s figure, who’s now entirely hiding your view of your Ex—the wide expansive back that shows the writhe of his shoulder blades and how his spine shifts under the tight shirt.

Your hand lowers from your face.

“What the fuck?!” Graham spits. “You made me drop my fucking drunk, man!”

“Be thankful that was all, yeah?” Simon’s dead voice is a cold chill on a winter evening. Any sane person would turn and leave immediately. “Cut your losses.”

No one breaths for a long minute, and you can see the other new mechanics inching closer from the sides. All of the locals are deep into the scene, fingers to their lips in surprise. There’s going to be talk tomorrow—the bar will be busy.

“Graham,” you try to sway the pig-headed man once more from behind Simon. “Go home.”

“So this is what I get,” your Ex spits, head trying to peek over the larger man’s frame to look at you. Simon’s hands clench into tight fists. “I’m with you for years and this is how you treat me? I gave you everything!”

“Those are years that I never want to think about again,” you say with a stiff finality. “And it’ll be a cold day in hell before you ever see me worrying about where you are or who you fuck.”

Knowing that the situation is over and done with, Simon takes a single step forward and leans into the man.

“You heard ‘er,” he levels, unblinking. “Scatter.” Simon’s accent made it sound more like a threat, but maybe it was.

Graham growls and takes a long drag from his cigarette, staring Simon down.

“Fuck you, you piece of shit.” But all he does is turn sharply on his heel and stomp away, crossing the street to his truck before he opens and closes the door with a violent slam. From across the way, Celina gasps and calls his name, but the engine has already started and Graham is down the road with a roar from the exhaust.

Everyone is watching you and Simon, and the staring peels back your skin until Simon grumbles and grabs your arm.

Blinking in shock, he only gives you a moment to steady yourself and slip on your shoes before he drags you inside the garage. You huff and look up at him as you close your sketchbook–trying to not look at those tattoos again. Your finger wanted to trace them—to study the ink down to the layer of skin where it ended and became red flesh and weeping veins. How far up his left arm did they go? Did they only stay at his forearm, or up to his shoulder?

Inside he lets you go, head slightly tilted to the outside as the sounds of hushed whispering pick back up; hurried and filled with electricity. Simon grunts, blinking.

A heated silence encompasses the two of you, and as your eyes lock, neither can speak for a moment.

“Sorry about that,” you glance at your feet. “Should have guessed he’d show up and do something.”

“Don’t apologize,” Simon crosses his arms again, boots righting themselves. “That’s not your fault that some bastard can’t act right, yeah? Forget about it, it’s all nothing.”

“You shouldn’t have to be involved—”

“Bloody cut it out, would you?” Simon glares, brows pulling in. “I said it’s nothing.”

He was very passionate about this, it seemed.

You sigh, shaking your head before a tiny chuckle makes the mechanic blink in confusion. “Suppose I can call you my guard dog now, huh?”

“Piss off,” you laugh, covering your mouth with your hand while your eyes narrow down. Simon's own crinkle along the edges, lowering his hands to push them into his pockets.

A second leads into another, but neither of you has any particular interest in re-joining the others, even if Soap is smugly passing looks and Price smirks into his drink. Gaz fixes his hat while he tips back a beer bottle, hiding a glint of amusement.

Simon’s voice lowers, seeming to hover closer.

“You alright, then?” You nod, face heating up as you stare at his shadow-tainted visage and how the face-covering obscured him from your eager eyes.

“I’m used to his drama. I have no problem giving it back.” Simon hums, October browns glinting like Halloween lights.

“Seems so.” He pauses, and pushes out a joking, “Not surprised, Sunshine.”

“Good, Brown-Eyes,” you lean back on your heels and smirk. “I’d be offended if you were, with all we’ve been talking to one another.”

“Getting familiar, Bartender?”

“Of course, Mechanic. Haven’t you heard?” He tilts his head, prodding you on as his eyes soften that candle-like smidge. “I keep everyone’s secrets—and you still have to tell me yours.”

Simon chuffs a low chuckle, and the fabric of his mask pulls as he shakes his skull. “Maybe one day, yeah? Need to stick ‘round to know ‘em.”

Then perhaps this town was worth wasting away in.

—

“Bastard won’t cause any problems, will he?”

“No, no, he’s too much of a coward to try and get back at anyone. He won’t do anything.”

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the-californicationist · 29 days

Text

Bone Deep

AO3 Link -- MDNI -- TW: emotional hurt/comfort, make up sex

Your husband, John Price, has fallen into a pattern of behavior that seems to be moving him farther and farther away from you. But, you refuse to play second fiddle for long.

You were drenched. It had been raining in such a way that made you think the Lord had gone back on his promise. Perhaps the rainbow had been painted just to placate you. Perhaps, you thought as you wrung out your hair on the porch, you would be drowned after all.

It sure felt that way. Work had mounted up to the point of a fever-pitch. You had three projects due and one to revise. Not to mention, your husband had been home and yet almost fully invisible.

John Price was back on something like leave, but he was never around. You saw evidence of his presence all over your floor and table and furniture. Socks, dirty plates, dead tablets, scraps of paper with Russian names scribbled on them... He was hunting Makarov in your kitchen and your hallway and your bathroom, and he was leaving that trail of breadcrumbs both literally and figuratively all over your house.

You’d gone to bed alone for two nights in a row, and as you nearly tumbled over a pair of his sneakers in the foyer, caked in wet mud, you decided that it would not be three.

“John?” You called out.

There was no reply, but a pale blue light shone under his office door.

You popped open the latch and saw him hunched over the computer screen.

“John.”

“Hm?” He responded, but he didn’t turn around.

“John!”

“What?” He roared, spinning in his chair and glowering at you, shaming you for interrupting him.

“Okay,” you nodded, resigned.

It would be a cold day in hell before you accepted that tone from anyone. You’d gone in there expecting to have a rational conversation, but your husband had raised his voice to you like you’d been a naughty dog.

And you were absolutely not going to take that sort of treatment.

You made it to your bedroom in a quick three strides, pulling your overnight bag from under the bed. You shot your best friend, Cana, an SOS text. She lived two hours away, but you didn’t mind. You’d drive all night through the rain if it meant getting out of this prison that you used to call a home.

Okay, maybe that was a little dramatic, but you had boundaries. Clear ones. And he knew he had crossed them. He just didn’t care.

You started to pack as you fumed, tossing in a few days worth of clothes, your toiletry bag, the essentials. Then, the bedroom door clanged open, its handle slamming into the railing on the wall.

“What’s this?” John waved a hand over your bag.

“When I married you, I married a partner, not a ghost. The only reason I know you’re home is because you leave your fucking laundry for me to finish all over my floor. I’m not going to clean up after you like some maid. Then, you raise your tone at me, disrespecting me? No. When you’re ready to be my husband again, you know my number.”

He scoffed,

“All this bloody drama over some dirty socks?”

You stared at him in a way that told him just how serious you were. The silence between you stretched on for eons, expanding in all directions. You smiled,

“You know it’s not the socks.”

The look in his eyes said: yes, I know it’s not the socks. But, his pride wouldn’t let him say the quiet part out loud.

So, you left.

Starting up the car was hard. Backing out of the driveway was harder. But, every mile you drove simply steeled your resolve. You knew his work was important, but you were important, too. You’d always be his wife, but you needed some space.

You texted your boss when you made it to Cana’s house; you were taking a few days off. A night of tears and comforting hugs (and strong margaritas) passed, then a morning. Then, a night… and in the middle of it, you saw your phone light up. Despite the million other notifications you received every day, you knew it was him.

John: hey

You: hey

John: can i call

You: one sec

You sneaked out of bed, untangling yourself from Cana’s lanky arms, and lugged your phone out to the front porch. You were about to curl up on her big patio chair when you were stopped in your tracks at the sight of a big black truck idling in the driveway.

You sighed, standing there staring at your husband. He killed the engine and stepped down from the cab. As he approached you, looking up at you from the bottom of the stairs like a wide-eyed disciple, you noticed that his blue irises were ringed in pink, bloodshot and puffy. He hadn’t shaven, and he looked pale.

But, even though you were still hurt, and even though he looked a little worse for wear, it was hard to ignore the carnal ache in your belly when you watched the muscles bulge and flex in his immense forearms as he crossed his arms in front of himself. The way his chest stretched out his black tee shirt, a tuft of fur peeking out of the crew neckline, the sleeves struggling to contain his round biceps. The way he chewed his full bottom lip when he had something important to say. It was enough to test your resolve.

“Hey,” you said in a small voice, holding your arms around your body for comfort.

Suddenly, those sharp eyes focused on you with rapt attention, and he stared right at you, speaking in a low, gravelly purr, trying to keep his voice down,

“I’ve been a proper arse.”

You tried to hold back a smirk. He continued,

“I took advantage of you. I’ve been hunting this fuckin’ bastard for so many years, and I’ve got him cornered. It’s all I can think about. Every night I think if only I was a little quicker, or maybe just bloody braver, I could stop him from killing more innocent people. I let him into our house. Into your life. And I shouldn’t have let my work come between us,” John’s expression softened, and he uncrossed his arms, hooking his thumb into his jeans pocket, “And I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” you said quietly, still waiting for his next step. Being sorry was only part of it.

“When you come home tomorrow, it’ll be different. I’m gonna pull my weight again. You have my word that I’ll only work when you work, and when you’re home,” he squared his shoulders, rocking his hips forward, nervous energy coursing through his body, “I’ll be home with you. I promise.”

You nodded, shifting your weight, staring down at your feet. Then, he called your attention with a caught breath and words that hurt you bone deep,

“You are coming home, right?”

You tried your honest best to fight the tears, but your body shuddered through a sob and you gasped in a sharp breath of air. He moved to hold you, to ascend the steps and repent, to be forgiven, but you held up your hand stopping him in his tracks,

“I won’t have you speaking to me like that, John. I won’t…” You thought about your words carefully, “I can’t be treated that way.”

“I understand, love. Believe me,” he chuckled, “I never want you to feel like that again.”

The way he rubbed his thumb across his sternum made your own chest hurt. He tried to approach you again, stepping up the wooden stairs, creaking under his weight, and he angled his chin up as if to kiss you. But, you stepped away, guarding your own heart for just a while longer.

The hunger in his eyes followed you like smoke from a fire, warming you with its heat.

“I’ll be home in the morning, John,” you said, turning to go back into the house.

The next morning, as you packed, you thought about his promise. You hoped that you were heard. Truly heard and not just for a week of good behavior. You deserved to be respected, and you wouldn’t let your relationship with him become so one-sided again.

When you pulled into your driveway, you expected to be greeted with the same dark, empty house. As you moved to pick your feet up over the usual mess of shoes, you discovered the foyer scrubbed to a high shine, and there was nothing to stumble upon. All the shoes were shoved into their little cubbies, and there wasn’t a dirty sock in sight. The living room was bright, clean, and John was standing in the middle of it, waiting for you. He took your bags, and scooped you up into a long, tight hug.

You thought he might try to kiss you, but he didn’t. He just held you against him, breathing in and out, not letting go. Your face was buried deep in his chest, and you could smell his aftershave mixing with the strong scent of his cigars, and a slight musk that was all him. You wanted to feel his fur against your cheek.

Suddenly, he grabbed your chin in his hand, making you face him, and he said in a dark, warm tone,

“I’m gonna be the me that you need me to be. From now on. I swear it.”

You felt his soft lips touch yours, kissing you chastely, then deeper, chasing your taste, finding your tongue, licking along its length, savoring your mouth like a treat, cherishing every suck and nip and bite.

“I missed you, John,” you admitted, feeling hot tears staining your cheeks, not realizing you were crying.

He wiped them from your temples, smearing them into your skin, cradling your head in his hands so carefully as if you were made of glass.

“I’ve been away. But, I swear, love. I swear, I’m back. I swear…”

His lips met your wet cheek and took your tears with them.

“I swear…”

He kissed your neck, holding your head in his huge paw.

“I swear…”

You ran your hands over his neck, encircling him, tugging at his shirt, needing to feel his skin. He hooked his arms over his head and rucked the shirt off his back, tossing it on the couch. He pulled you into his lap as he sat down, sinking into the cushions, kissing you like you might disappear again.

“I’m so sorry, love. Please forgive me,” John growled darkly, his deep voice rumbling between kisses.

“Forgiven,” you said, forcing him to look at you.

Then, he put his forehead to yours and let out a deep sigh, closing his eyes and simply rubbing your back, trailing his hands over your hips, pulling you in closer to him.

Tentatively, as if testing the waters of a deep well, you rocked your hips against him, seeing if you could get him to take the bait. If you had your husband back, you wanted to seal that promise with more than just a kiss.

He groaned,

“Mm, I don’t deserve that.”

You repeated the motion, feeling the twitch of his fat cock inside of his jeans, and you narrowed your eyes at him,

“Sex isn’t a reward. It’s our connection, and I need to feel you. I need my captain back.”

He smiled, nuzzling your jaw, peppering your skin with little, chirping kisses,

“Pretty girl… I missed you so much. What was I thinking?”

You shrugged, playing coy as you slipped off your leggings and set to undoing his buttons, opening the fly of his jeans to see the shock of dark hair and the swollen prize nestled in it,

“I dunno. Maybe you just needed a reminder?”

As you teased him at your entrance, letting his head play in your wet folds, you began to sink down onto his shaft, spearing yourself onto his length, rocking back and forth with a tantalizing rhythm.

“Mmngh,” he sighed, his eyes staring, transfixed on where your bodies reconnected.

Finally, after some effort, his girth was fully sheathed within you, warmed and cradled by your soft heat. You began to lift yourself on your knees up and down, dragging all the way to his rosy head and then sliding all the way back down to those brown curls, enjoying the faces he was making against his will.

However, he didn’t put up with your performance for long. Before you knew it, you were laying on the couch with your knees on your chest, taking every inch of his cock as deep as it would go. He had a gentle curve that, in this position, rubbed exactly where it needed to, pulling you along from one orgasm to the next like you were a kite, fully at his mercy and high as hell.

Your mind swam with murky, unintelligible thoughts, and he fucked you harder and harder, pounding himself into you like a machine. Sometimes you forgot his strength… and his stamina.

You whined a bit, your timbre changing from other-worldly pleasure to mild discomfort, and he picked up on it like a hound. He slowed, inspecting you, looking for the broken pieces.

“You alright, missus?” He said, kissing you, thrusting shallowly now, checking in with you.

“Can we sit?”

“C’mere.”

John pulled you into his lap and continued his efforts, rocking himself back and forth, holding your body like a toy. Then, he snaked his hand between you, giving your clit something firm to rub against, and you felt the tingles begin to build inside of your belly, a coil tightening, a dam under pressure, a firework ready to burst.

He was facing you, so you began to kiss him in a slow, supple way, letting your mouth fall open and your lips meet his with the lightest touch. John matched your energy, getting lost in your ritual, sending out the tip of his tongue to play and taste you again.

He pulled away and licked his fingers before returning them to your folds,

“Mmf-fuck. You are so bloody good.”

“I want you to come in me, baby,” you confessed, resting your forehead on his, trying to catch your breath.

You saw the surprise dance through his expression.

“You sure?”

You knew it wasn’t something you allowed very often. You’d been off of your birth control for a few months, trying to give your body a break from the hormones. And even though you weren’t trying for a baby, that was always a dream that you shared. For John, it was the ultimate dream.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you nodded, kissing his smiling mouth.

“Oh, fuck me,” he growled darkly, gripping you around your waist, changing the angle to something wholly transcendent. How did he do it? How did he know where your body needed him to be? It was absurd.

Everything was bright and glittering as you came around him, and you felt yourself squeezing his cock mercilessly, coming down his shaft in hot, thick coatings of creamy slick, unable to stop it from flooding out around him.

He, too, was erupting. He gasped for air, grunting in loud, animalistic shouts, his whole face contorted into a pleasure-filled rage, pumping you full of his soft, warm cream, frothing it with his rough movements.

Eventually, he flung his head back, holding you to him in a tight hug, his entire body moving and reacting without his input, fully on instinct. You held him back, clutching him against you like a lifeline.

You thought he would slip out of you once he was down from his high, but he didn’t. He simply held you to him, sweaty and desperate, letting himself soften inside of you. It was as if he didn’t want to leave.

“Thank you, love,” he kissed you again, shuddering yet powerful.

“It’s nice to have you home, John,” you smiled, letting his soft laughter warm your heart, basking in it like the sun.

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #captain john price #cod mwii #john price #cod #captain price #captain price x you #call of duty #captain price x female reader #captain john price x female reader #captain price x reader

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yeonzzzn · 2 months

Note

You getting on alpha Jungwon nerves, making him trigger his rut and bend you over every surface of your house

broooooo😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 I can imagine just being a complete brat and annoying the absolute shit outta won to his breaking point 😵‍💫

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push my buttons: yang jungwon

pairing: jungwon x afab!reader word count: 2.2k

Acting like a brat to your boyfriend to purposely annoy him wasn’t anything new to your relationship.

Pushing his buttons was in your nature and your favorite pastime. Seeing the way he would scrunch his nose and furrow his brows at you got you going every single time, only furthering your need to piss him off to see that annoyed look turn into a stern one. Jaw locked and fists clenching at his sides as he eyes you with a look of warning. You knew what your punishments would be if you kept pushing him anymore, but your brat behavior would always continue until his hands were on your body and you were bent over whatever surface was near you at that moment as he pounded into your cunt, “Going to fuck that pretty little brat behavior outta ya baby girl.”

And tonight wasn’t any different than normal. Except for the fact Jungwon already came home pissed off to all hell, yelling into his phone on call with one of his best friends about the bullshit that happened at work earlier.

It was the perfect time to press his buttons. You were feeling needy all day and wanted to get railed as soon as he got home and with the fact Jungwon was already mad, it would make your job easier.

Jungwon stood in the kitchen, slamming the cabinet doors closed, aggressively opening the fridge to grab a water bottle and then kicking it closed, chuckling over whatever it was his friend said over the phone before sitting down at the table and opening the bottle, tossing the cap into the trash can.

You pressed your body against the wall by the table, folding your hands behind you as you stared down at him, waiting for your moment to strike.

Jungwon took a few sips of the water, glancing up to finally notice you against the wall, his face brows furrowing and shaking his head and muting himself on the call, “I see those gears turning YN, don’t you fucking dare.”

You held your hands up in defense, trying to plead your innocence. But Jungwon wasn’t stupid, he’s been dating you for years. He knows your games and how you play them. He loves you dearly, but today WASN’T a day to fuck with him.

Did you care? Absolutely not. You did respect his warning for the time being while he was on the call, but once he removed the phone from his ear and ended the call you slipped into the chair beside him, pulling it as close as you could to him, getting all in his personal space.

Jungwon ignored you at first, dropping his head into his hands and rolling his eyes, clenching his jaw to keep from snapping.

You poked his cheek, pulled at his ear, tugged on his shirt, and even blew on his face yet got no reaction. Meaning you just had to try harder.

You repeated the same actions, except now teasing him with words, “Awe, poor Wonnie, had a shitty day at work? That fucking sucks, just get over it.”

Jungwon clenched his jaw tighter, “I love her I love her I love her I love her,” he kept repeating in his head, using it as a reminder that you were just being bratty like normal. He just needed to ignore it until you gave up.

“Just stop being a baby, Won. Grow up.”

Well, now he couldn’t ignore it.

He whipped his head up so fast, yelling, “Can you just shut the fuck up, YN? Jesus Christ I am NOT in the fucking mood to deal with you right now,” he gave you one last warning look, staring you down.

But now you were pissed. Jungwon has never yelled at you like that before, yes he’s yelled when you’ve pushed his buttons too far before fucking your brains out, but it was never like this.

You matched his glare, deciding it wasn’t worth it right now, that you would just come back and try again later after whatever pissed in his lunch earlier that got him so mad was gone.

You stood, snapping out a “What the fuck ever Jungwon.”

And now Jungwon is done.

Right when your back was turned to him, he jumped from the chair, gripping the back of your neck and pulling you back, slamming your back to his chest before whipping you around and bending you over the kitchen table. The water bottle was now tipped over, the liquid spilling on the table and dripping down to the floor.

You released a gasped moan, feeling his hard length against your ass, him pressing his crotch hard onto you.

“Jungwon?” he chuckled, his voice dropping an octave, “What happened to Won? Or Wonnie or even babe?”

Hearing you call him by his full name sent him over the edge. You never call him Jungwon. And hearing that name fall from your lips was his last straw with you.

But you didn’t care, you were finally getting what you wanted. You slipped your lip between your teeth, backing your ass even harder onto his cock, rocking your hips slowly.

Jungwon held your hips tightly, forcing you to stop moving, “Ahh now that you’re getting what you want after being such a fucking brat you think I’ll just give it to you?”

You nodded, trying to move again, but he gripped you tighter, not letting you move.

“You’ll get this dick when I say you can,” he growls, looping his fingers into your shorts and dropping them down to your ankles, “Understand?”

You nod again, the cool air of the apartment tingling your throbbing heat from the pool of your slick that soaked your panties, sending chills up your back.

Jungwon squeezed your ass cheeks, pulling them apart and hissing at how your panties pressed against your pussy, your panties being so wet he could see your fuck hole perfectly clear through the white fabric.

“Does pissing me off turn you on, baby?” he slowly slides your panties down, gently tracing his nails against your skin, watching the goosebumps rise on your skin as he drops your panties with your shorts, “So fucking horny just from pressing my nerves.”

You gasp when you feel his cold fingers cup your folds, his index and ring fingers slowly spreading your lips, the pad of his middle finger slowly rubbing circles on your clit.

“Wonnie, please,” you begged, your cunt clenching around nothing, rolling your hips forward in a chance of getting his fingers to move right where you needed them the most, but he held his grip firm.

“Oh, I am back to being Wonnie?” he cooed, sliding his middle finger down to your hole, tracing the outline of it, teasing you more, “Think it’s kinda too late to be obedient, ain’t it?”

Your body tensed as his finger continued to tease you, shivering spreading across your body and knees buckling.

“Please, Wonnie,” you begged again, tears threatening to form.

“Awe,” he cooed again, “Fixing to cry? Stop being a baby, grow up,” he threw your words back at you, and oh god did it turn you on more, you cunt getting more wet, your slick now sliding down his hand.

“Fuckkkk,” Jungwon groaned, seeing how your juices pooled into his palm, his free hand unbuttoning his pants, pushing his boxers down with his pants, his hard, red, and angry cock being set free.

Using his other fingers to scoop your wet from his palm and sent it over to his cock, sliding his hand from his tip and down the shaft, “So fucking wet for me I can use your wet to cover my cock without even so much sliding into you.”

You backed your ass into him again, once again begging, “Wonnie, do something please.”

He smirked, sliding his middle finger into your soaking cunt. You moaned out with a smile on your face, finally feeling part of what you were craving.

Jungwon fingered your pussy in the same motion of him fucking into his fist, small moans and gasping leaving both your lips. Your moans grow louder when he slips another finger inside you, pumping them in and out faster.

“That's it, baby,” he gasps, “Being a good girl now that you’ve gotten what you wanted, you still don’t deserve this cock though.”

You whimpered, the craving for his cock inside you growing more and more, “Please Wonnie, need you inside. I’ll be good, I promise.”

He chuckled, pushing his fingers in faster, “No you won’t.”

You smirked, lifting your head to look at him, clenching your cunt around his fingers at his fucked out face. His pupils are blown out, his mouth gaped open as his hand pumps himself and his eyes stare back at you.

You bit your lip, keeping that eye contact with him as you now rocked your hips in sync with his fingers.

The corners of his mouth curled, “Looking at me like that still won’t get you what you want, you’ll get this cock when I say so.”

But you plead with him anyways, going back to being a brat, “Oh, come on Wonnie,” you bat your eyes at him, “You know you want to fuck this tight, wet cunt. Want to feel me wrapped around you.”

He snarled at you, fingers now curling inside you, hitting at all the right spots, “Talking like that won’t get this dick inside you faster, princess.”

You dropped your head back to the table, unable to keep it lifted as the knot in your stomach tightened, nearing the edge of your orgasm, you clenched tighter to his fingers.

Jungwon quickly slid his fingers out, denying you the pleasure of the feeling of orgasm. Jungwon was also getting closer to his climax. And if he was going to cum it was going to be in that sopping wet cunt of yours.

Before you could protest the missing of his fingers, his tip pushed into you, shutting you up real quick. Jungwon loved how fucking wet you were to allow him to slide in with such ease, his hips connecting to the fat of your ass, completely bottomed out.

Your knees buckled as he slowly pulled out and then quickly pushed back in, fucking you hard against the table. He leaned over, laying on top of you, stretching his arms out above your head, pressing his palms hard against the wood to use as leverage to fuck into you harder, to help push him further into you, wanting to break any barrier that stopped him from actually prodding into your cervix.

“Fuck, Wonnie,” you moaned, “F-feels so good.”

“Yeah?” he bites the shell of your ear hard, a yelp gasping your mouth that sends your cunt clenching around him.

He released your ear, one hand coming to your head and turning it to face him more, his lips attaching to your mouth. Tongue pushing past your lips and down your throat, moaning into your mouth and you moaning into his.

He finally pulled away to get a gasp of air, a string of spit connecting between your tongues before it broke and slapped onto each other's chins.

You clenched tighter around him at the feeling of his dick twitching, his thrust now becoming sloppy, but never wavering.

“Fuck, gonna cum soon,” he hisses, his hands now snaking underneath you, hands cupping your clothed tits as he lifts up, bringing you with him, spreading your legs further apart with his knees and fucking into you faster again, wanting to feel you cum around him as he releases inside you.

With your orgasm fast approaching, you dropped your jaw, letting out loud wet moans.

“Yeah, baby, keep those moans loud, let the neighbors hear how much of a fucking slut you are for me, for my cock.”

“Wonnieee,”

“Keep screaming my name, baby,”

You let out another moan, your climax hitting its peak, your body going limp against your boyfriend as he fucked you through the high.

He squeezed your tits tightly as he reached his own high, his hot white cum painting the walls of your cunt until it was leaking from your hole and slipping down your leg.

Jungwon kissed your neck, his hot breath sending chills down your spine.

He pulled out of you, turning you around, picking you up by your thighs, and dropping you onto the table, his fingers gripping your chin and pulling your face closer to his.

“Want to keep acting like a fucking brat? Want to keep pissing me off?” he whispered in a look of warning, his face clearly showing he was still very mad.

You smirked at him, “You’re still being a baby over whatever happened at work, dontcha think it’s actually time to get over it?”

Jungwon clicked his tongue, smiling back at you. He only fucked out half of the anger he felt, still plenty more to rage out.

He slid his fingers to the hem of your shirt, sliding it off your body and biting his lip at your now naked body as he took his shirt off and dropped it to the floor next to the rest of your clothes.

He pushed you down aggressively against the table, his cock more red and angry than before, “Guess you still haven’t fucking learned to not fuck with me when I’m pissed.”

You and him both knew you’d never learn.

#yeonzzzn asks #wonnie #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #enhypen #jungwon smut #yang jungwon #jungwon #jungwon x reader #reader x jungwon #enhypen x reader #reader x enhypen #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen smut #enhypen fanfic #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #yeonzzzn writing

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metallikha · 5 months

Note

Hey i was wondering if you could do a threesome with dad toji and brother megumi with ftm reader?

─────── ‥ `> INCEST

getting steamy with megumi in a small house with thin walls, you didn't really fancy that. most probably because your father was probably aware.

"mm.. meg'mi.. not too rough please.. ughh" you squirmed under his touch. back pressed against his chest and head laying on his shoulder while his fingers toy with your pussy. "im not even inside yet. stop whining" he lands a harsh slap on your pussy, making you yelp.

"h-he'll hear us -!" you covered your mouth, suppressing the moans trying to come out. "let him." he gently inserts two fingers inside you, then moving them in a scissoring motion. "can you please just,, put your cock in..?" you whine into hear, "no, it's been 2 months since we last fucked. you're tight as hell."

you accepted defeat, and endured his fingering you. "alright, c'mere baby" he lays you on your back, both facing the door. whoever comes it will be greeted with a surprise.

he pressed his lips onto yours and circled around your hole with the tip of his cock. threating to go in. "be a good boy and be quiet okay?" his tone sweet gentle, before going back to sucking on each others faces.

"now, what d'we have here? megumi? fucking your little brother?" toji walks in, looking like he's seeing something like that everyday. "y'gonna do something about it?" megumi slammed his cock in your cunt. earning him a loud moan and you arching your back, making you face toji.

"without me? that's not nice" toji walks towards you both, not even bothering to lock nor close the door. "huh.?" megumi looked at him with a confused and irritating expression. toji pulls out his cock and dropped it on your face.

his dick hard and heavy, smelling of sweat. "open wide sweetheart" you were caught off guard, not expecting your father to join in on fucking you. he presses the tip on your lips and without any warnings, shoved himself inside your hot throat.

you tighten around megumis cock. "fucking your own son? disgusting bastard" he glares at him, then begins thrusting his cock in your cunt. "'fucking your own brother? i could say the same about you brat." toji massages the growing bulge on your throat, and squeezing your nipples.

toji fucked your face, megumi fucked your pussy. you felt like you were caught in a trance, tojis balls slapping your face hard and your older brother railing your cunt. it's too much, the pleasure kept building up in your tummy.

you suddenly squirt on megumis abdomen, dirtying his shirt. your legs trembled and your hands gripped tojis thighs. megumi stopped for a while, checking on you, trying to anyway. "move" he shoved toji aside, and there you were. "aww, he passed out. that's no fun" toji fake pouted

"y'wanna fuck him till he wakes up?

─────── ‥

#jjk imagines #jjk smut #toji thirst #toji fushiguro smut #megumi fushiguro smut #ftm reader #m! reader #male reader #mettalikha's gallery

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seattlesellie · 9 months

Note

Would you ever write something with gf Ellie first time ever degrading you?? :O I feel like she’d be so subtle at first and shy but then realizes you are into it and she starts going further and calling you a slut etc etcccc I feel like it’d be so hot to hear he all shy only to end up mocking reader🤓🤓

warnings: doing it while your parents are sleeping in the next room, little degradation, strap on sex ‘n bad writing.<3

full, stuffed— is exactly how you felt. when ellie has the 8 inch silicon cock snug inside of your gummy, tight walls, it’s hard to imagine you’ve ever been empty, or, well… that you ever will be again.

this rooms walls are paper thin, and you know your parents could hear if you dared to screech or to moan an octave higher. for ellie, for ellie it’s easier because she groans and pants, and she can do it quietly enough because she’s not the one getting railed deep inside her childhood bedroom. before you and ellie arrived, you made a promise. “no sex until were back home”, and hell, you even made her use her pinky.

but now— your juices are flowing down your thighs and her thighs and it all sticks together in a mushy, slippery little mess.

when ellie plunges herself deeper, hitting the bottom of your cervix with the light purple, mushroom like tip of her strap— you frantically yelp. “nggh… el— s’too deep i ‘cant—“, ellie shushes you immediately; brings her pointer finger to the plush of your lips and zips them together. “shh shh… fuck, gotta be quiet”,

she warns you. she cares. she’s such a sweetheart.

your panicked expression, the way your eyeballs nearly pop out when she pushes it in deeper on purpose, makes ellie know that she’s going to have to use more than just her finger to shut you up. another whine escapes your lips, and this time, ellie slaps her entire clammy palm on your quivering mouth. you attempt to peel it off with your hand, but ellie knows better. the other hand, her unused one— maneuvers itself down to your sensitive, split open pussy, and her thumb begins lightly circling your clit while maintaining her brutal pace. ellie knows that whenever she touches on the sensitive little nub for the first time— especially when it’s been neglected for over 3 minutes now, your body freezes entirely. so you don’t slap her hand away (you can’t), but you squeal out a muffled sound of her name. “mphhllie!”

you squealed. you actually squealed, and every time she slams it in deeper— you squeal again, like a puppys brand new chew toy, right out of the box.

for you, it’s absolutely embarrassing. it’s embarrassing because it’s only been 6 minutes thats she’d been fucking you for and she’s already rendered you a squeaky, squirming mess.

for ellie, however, it’s melodic. in fact, it makes ellie’s puffy clit throb and makes her toes curl up inside her white socks.

to you, you sound pathetic.

to ellie, you sound like a raging slut. most importantly, her raging slut. she won’t ever say it though, but god— how she wants to.

her thumbs beginning to slip, going side to side instead of her calculated circles, and she’s starting to lose it. you know she does, because everything she says comes out through gritted teeth. “i swear… you gotta keep it down, babe” she whispers, kissing you softly on your cheeks to calm you down. for some reason, that sweet action makes you squeeze around her strap and she swears she just felt it.

“almost there… huh, pretty girl? you almost there?”, you nod— and she nods with you. “mhm… you can give it to me… know you want to, shit— give it to me”. ellie slips out, slaps the tip on top of your aching clit and plunges herself deep again. this time, when you feel it slip back inside, you moan several octaves higher. ellie whimpers, because ellie can’t help it anymore, and then—

a door cracks open. not yours, thank god— but your parents’ bedroom door. you freeze, ellie freezes, and you can feel her heartbeat on top of your chest.

two light knocks on your door. “sweetheart, everything alright? i heard something” your father rasps, and it’s his sleepy voice that tells you he actually fell asleep but woke up because of your noises.

ellie shakes her head rapidly, pupils all blown out. “say something!” she whispers frantically. she’s still inside of you and when you mean to get her off, she accidentally falls on top of you and the strap buries itself inside deep. “gah—‘f ‘fine dad! don’t ‘c, come inside we’re studying!”

thankfully, he accepts it— and walks off.

leisurely, absolutely ignoring what had just happened, ellie slams into you in an awful, torturous, delicious slow pace. whenever she moves, your wet squelching sounds fill the air and it’s disgusting.

“this is… all your ‘f— fault!” you yelp, and ellie giggles. to that, you wrap your legs around her back and push her in deeper. the base of her strap grazes her clit and sends a shockwave through her body. she can’t move, paralyzed— so you move her yourself. she looks you in the eyes, and if she can’t use her body, she might as well use her mouth.

“shit, s’not my fault you sound like a slut” she murmurs. the nickname makes you squeeze around her girth and another sweet droplet of your slick runs down your thighs to the seam of your ass. you shut your eyes, trying to think of a clever comeback— maybe she’s the slut. all that comes out, is an incredibly silly sentence, one that makes ellie nearly cum from nothing. “you made me this… w— way”

that smile that’s plastered on her pretty, flushed face is triumphant. “made you a slut, huh?” she rasps, and you cry out— fuck, she thinks. you like this. “who’s slut?” she asks, it’s meaningless, it really is because she knows.

“your… oh fuck!— your slut”

“ellie’s slut?”

you hum, nearly reaching your orgasm as she nearly reaches hers as well. ellie’s thighs shake and her vision is blurry— but she needs to tell you this, so she does.

“be a fuckin’ slut, and cum on this dick”

not fuckdrunk ellie would never say this. sober ellie would never say this. but the ellie whos inside of you now, the ellie who’s slut you are— yeah, she’s gonna say it. more than once, too.

when it’s over, she turns to face you between aimless, hushed giggles.

“hey slut, get me some water? m’thirsty” you gasp, and the pillow you throw lands on her face and nearly breaks her nose. (<3)

#𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 anon 🎀#ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fanfiction

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toxicanonymity · 9 months

Note

Stepdad!joel stepdad!joel stepdad!joel stepdad!joel stepdad!joel 🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤

Amazon 📦

2700, stepdad!Joel x f!reader. Stepdad Master List

New: BONUS SNAPCHATS, and one more (what if)

Ty for always ID-ing stepdad in the wild @gracieispunk including this pic ILYSM!!

SUMMARY: You give Joel the cold shoulder. He's sad and horny and finds a way to get your attention with a gift. He snapchats you a lot. A/N: Shout-out to @scratchietella (cum ask). WARNINGS: I8+, POV alternates twice, jacking off, stepcest, degradation, angst, reflection on cheating, a bit of whump and a hint of reader dacryphilia. Joel comes a lot (7x or so?), and I spelled it the short way for disambiguation. NO use of Y/N.

After you let Joel give you head, he thinks he’s back in your good graces despite cheating with your mom. But as soon as Joel leaves your room, you must be putting on your clothes. Because within less than a minute, you call Jacques on your way downstairs-–in earshot–to apologize on Joel's behalf for rushing him out.

Joel follows you downstairs, but your Mom is on her way in. You go out the front door, and when your Mom walks in from the garage, Joel is standing at the kitchen with his hair all messed up from running his hands through it in distress. He doesn’t know if you’re going to Jacques’s, back to your apartment, or out, but he doesn’t like it. Joel knows he has no right to tell you anything, but that doesn’t stop him from calling you. You don’t answer.

Your Mom isn’t home for long. She goes right back out, at which point Joel goes straight to his dresser to retrieve both pairs of your panties: The pair you gagged him with after he gave you a ride home, and the pair you stuffed in his pocket in the kitchen on Thanksgiving. The ones from the car are already ruined by his own cum, but the ones from Thanksgiving are all you.

Joel lies on the bed and lubes up his cock, still hard from eating you out. He puts on his glasses and looks at the screenshots he took of you before he knew Snapchat was telling on him. He whimpers as he strokes himself.

After a minute of looking at your scandalous photos, he feels pathetic for clinging to such a tiny morsel of you when he needs it all. He tosses his phone aside, closes his eyes, and smothers his face with your panties as he strokes himself. He takes in deep breaths and he grunts and moans into them, and his hips involuntarily flex like his fist might as well be you.

For the thousandth time, he imagines putting an end to his misery by just fucking your shit up. Busting in your door, grabbing you by the throat slamming you against the wall. Shoving his tongue down your throat and his hand between your legs. Tearing your clothes off as you whimper his name. Then taking you to bed, only so he can put you on your back and spread you wide open.

He'd memorize the folds of your dripping cunt as it twitches and begs for his tongue. Flip you over and shove himself in without warning, making you mewl as his girth splits you in two. Pounding you. Spanking you. Yeahh, just railing into your needy whore cunt as you whimper under him. He sees your face screwing up as he cums inside you with a harsh grunt, finally giving you what you wanted all this time, a cunt full of his load.

Cut to his own fist full of it on his bed. As he lies there breathing, the shame sets in. Not only the stepcest shame, but also the knowledge that he'd never have the balls to do any of that. It’s barely believable enough to get off to. And then the guilt sets in – the guilt of what he did, how he fucked things up with you. He feels guiltier about this than he felt for cheating on your Mom. He feels like he cheated on you.

He puts away the evidence and washes his hands. Then he stares at your text convo. He has to figure out how to make things right.

You don't respond to a single text or snap for the next week or so, and you don’t come back to the house either. Joel feels even more desperate. He’d do anything, if he only knew what might help. He needs something to get your attention. He doesn’t sleep with your Mom, and your Mom doesn’t care. She doesn’t even bring it up. He’s pretty sure she’s having an affair anyway. Brazenly. For her to confront Joel about his lack of interest would be to risk Joel confronting her about the affair. Joel isn't sure if it’s physical or just emotional, but it doesn’t matter much. He’s over it.

Joel thinks about you at night and wonders if you think about him, too. He envisions what you might look like, thinking of him. He imagines you with your spine arched, toy between your legs, closing your eyes, just soaking your sheets as you sigh his name. One night, he’s picturing this, really choking his cock. He groans then sighs as he cums into his fist. And then, when he’s recovering from his climax, that’s when it hits him. How to get your attention.

—---------

You’re lying on the couch watching TV. You’re distracted. Joel’s outreach has been ambiguous so far. He hasn’t said anything about your mom. He hasn’t begged for pictures, much less for another chance. He’s only begged for forgiveness, over text. You haven’t opened his snapchats because you don't want to be reminded about what he did. You don’t want a serious talk or a lecture or god forbid details. You don’t even want a sincere apology, unless it’s in the interest of fucking you.

You get a notification that you have a package at the leasing office and sigh in exasperation that you have to make the trip there when it's probably not even yours. You aren't expecting anything, but sure enough, it has your name on it.

It’s a vibrator. Your heart races when you read the gift message. “Thinking of you. A lot. I’m sorry. J.” Unwanted butterflies swarm in your chest and you try to bat them away. He even included an extra pack of batteries. How. . . thoughtful. Smart, too, because if it were rechargeable, you’d never plug it in. It would feel like an admission of forgiveness. But since it’s battery-operated, you can just pull the battery tab as soon as you get horny. And of course you do. You lay on the sofa where you and Joel hooked up before and you take the toy for a spin. His ploy is working, you’re thinking of him, and you’re too horny to care.

You finally open his snapchats. They're a mix of horny and pathetic videos. They start off horny, just showing you a bulge in his pants or he's jacking off with your panties.

Video: Then something non-sexual. A closeup where he’s just looking at you with messy hair, puppy dog eyes, and dark circles. “Talk to me. Yell at me, I don’t care. I'll take anything.”

Video: Then horny. Palming himself over his joggers. Whining your name in a whisper. “Please.” His desperation turns you on.

Video: A sad one the same night. He's sweating, looking like a little more of a mess, forehead glistening, catching his breath. "Don't throw this away." He breathes for a few more seconds.

Video: Another sad one another day where he doesn’t really say anything but his face says it all. He looks awful, as if he’s not sleeping. Red eyelids, might have been crying. He starts to say something, “I—” he takes a deep breath. Then he shakes his head, looks up and it cuts off.

Video: A horny one that must have been the same night. He looks the same, but his reddened eyes look hungry. His lips are parted and he's taking in a shaky breath with his arm moving slowly off screen. "I just miss you." He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He turns the camera down where his clothed erection sticking straight up in his joggers, just jutting into the air. His hand pushes it down and he slowly grabs it.

You leave his snaps on "seen," not even beginning to reply. Then a few minutes later he sends a new one. A minute after that, another one. You leave those unseen for the time being.

—------------

Joel sees you open the old snaps. That's progress, he thinks, and boldly assumes you open them when you’re horny. When he starts to second guess that assumption, he gets self conscious and thinks it might be for the better that you don’t open the last two snaps. They might have been too much. . .

Video: He’s sitting in his office chair in front of a full length mirror. He’s manspreading and his joggers are hugging him in a way that emphasizes his bulge. His big, veiny hand is slowly rubbing his inner thigh, getting closer and closer to where he desperately wants your touch. He says, “Ya know,” (deep breath) “I should be doin’ that for you.” Then he palms his arousal and says, “Ahh, fuck it.”

Video: A few minutes later, he’s slouched down in the chair. His T-shirt is pulled up well over his belly button and his hand around his cock. After just a few wet strokes, he sighs loudly as he cums all over his abdomen. It’s a lot of cum, like six or seven ropes. Then his stomach rises and falls with heavy breaths for a few seconds before he ends the video.

He’s grateful for the glimmer of hope but still beating himself up. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s not even sure what you want. At times, it feels like a losing battle. He’s not even sure what you feel. At some point he thought he knew, on some level. He thought you both knew, the moment you kissed, it felt like there was something electric neither of you could articulate but both of you knew.

It felt more than skin deep, but he couldn’t say where it went within either of you. He still can’t say. It’s not like you were in love. Certainly not batting eyelashes at each other or making future plans. Half the time you were bickering. But there was something there. Even if it was only physical, it was deep in your bones and something made it electric.

The further it gets from that moment, the more he wonders what you ever wanted. Is he your play thing? Do you get off on torturing him? Did you genuinely enjoy chatting with him? Do you get off on sneaking around or would you be into him if you knew each other a different way?

He pushes those thoughts away and keeps coming back to the physical spark between you. The hunger in your eyes. Your persistence. He wants both of you to take a leap of faith–not into a relationship–but a leap backward to the beginning. This all burned down and needs to be rebuilt from the ground up. If he lets it cool and builds it right, maybe it can become something better. Abstaining from other people feels like a good start. He can’t think about whether you’re seeing anyone else or it keeps him up at night.

—-----

The next day, you’re horny again. You get comfortable and turn on your new toy. You tell yourself opening his snaps doesn’t mean anything. You don’t have to respond. It won’t have any effect on you. But when you watch those two in his office, and oh, God. It takes you no time flat to cum, and cum hard. You don’t say anything back to him. He texts you, “did you like that?” and you don’t respond. He continues, “if not i’ll stop, sorry. Lmk.” You don’t let him know anything at all. You stay radio silent.

Over the next couple of weeks, he keeps snapchatting you. Even if you don’t open it that night, he knows you might go on a spree and open several in a row, probably when you’re using his gift.

Video: It’s a computer screen with your insta pulled up. He’s at the desk in his bedroom, the one where you found him jacking off to your pictures a few of months ago. He points the camera down at his lap and he’s wearing gray boxer briefs you didn’t know he had. You see the very clear outline of his hard cock atop his thigh, straining to burst out of them. “See what ya do to me.” He runs his hand down it with a low sigh.

Video: A few minutes later, selfie mode, breathing heavily. Hand wrapped around his shiny cock, stiff and swollen. He fists himself at a beat that’s becoming as irregular as his ragged breaths. He grunts as he thrusts into his hand. “Oh, fuck—oh—-ohhh fuck, I–nngg–” He devolves into a groan as he erupts in his hand. It shoots back toward the camera. It takes a good thirty seconds of him moaning and sighing and catching his breath before he’s finally done emptying his balls.

Video: He’s on his bed, rear camera facing his lap. cock and his hand gliding wetly up and down it. “I can’t believe. . .” (heavy breathing) “-oh, fuck—I–I can’t --I can't believe,” (moan) “I ever turned you down.” (long, drawn out orgasmic groan).

Photo: Close-up of his lap with a boner. His hand resting at his groin. His hand has no business being that hot. Caption: How’s silicone joel treating you.” You roll your eyes and begrudgingly smile just a little as you use the silicone joel and quickly tap for the next snap.

Video: He’s in the office again, standing in front of the full length mirror. He’s in boxer briefs and his thighs swell out from them. No shirt. He pans so you can see him head to toe, shirtless. Then he relaxes back in the chair, manspreading. The snap ends and it cuts to the next one.

Video: Now he’s breathing fast, stroking his raging erection feverishly in the next one “Ohh-nng-Oh–God–Fu–” (moan) “Fffuuuck” (loud, low sigh). Stringy white ropes rocket onto his abdomen as he shudders loudly and strokes himself slower. You rewatch this one multiple times and count seven real ropes before it’s just gurgle. Seven.

You think about getting your ipad out and taking a video of this one for later use, but you accidentally tap for next. By now, he's completely unashamed.

Video: He’s in his car. You can only see his lap, and the ample bulge in his joggers. “Had to pull over.” He scoots the seat back, rubs himself slowly, breathing heavily. “Just thinkin’ about” (low sigh) “the way you came all over my mouth” He pulls his waistband down, spits on his cock, then sighs loudly. That snap ends, and in the next one--

Video: He's just cumming–really hard. It’s his fist around his cock. “Oh, fuck,” (a gasp, then a soft, ragged groan) “Fu–” he cuts himself off with a long sigh as he cums into a t-shirt. You can’t see the cum but know it’s a lot. You see his cock twitch and his hips lift as he sighs again.

Photo: His big, masculine hand is holding a peach. Caption: Every fkn thing reminds me of you.

All this time, you’re still not responding. Not so much as a thumbs up or sweating emoji. But you keep watching them, day after day, until one day, he doesn’t send any. You use the toy and just think about him, envisioning his videos, and replaying your encounters. You don’t just think about him jacking off, you think about him crying, too, and that turns you on just as much. You picture him crying and jacking off and you cum instantly. Then you feel kinda bad.

In your post-nut clarity, that’s when you realize you’re pretty much ready to move on from it. Because you start to worry. Maybe he’s had enough of the games. Maybe he’s given up. Maybe you shouldn’t have punished him like this. It was fucked up, so fucked up, but the memory will fade. You detached enough in the moment that it's not that vivid to begin with.

Joel is married. He’s always been married. That's why he was always saying no. They kissed in front of you days before. Instead of insisting on a conversation, within sixty seconds you were putting your panties in his pocket. Then you made a pass at him, and he got you off on the kitchen counter. Then you kissed.

That kiss. It was so loaded. Packed full of tension and potential. A glimpse of what could be had. There's no doubt in your mind the sex would be explosive.

If Joel hasn’t given up, maybe this interlude got you a little closer to what you want, somehow. There's only one way to find out.

—-----

BONUS SNAPCHATS

the silicone Joel

STEPDAD MASTER LIST - Fandango has the most advanced smut

—-----

THANK YOU for reading and engaging. Your reblogs and comments mean so much to me, and I love when I start to see new “regulars.” It’s so exciting really. Love you guys 💙💙💙

Special shoutout to stepdad’s lawyer @milla-frenchy for expert counsel!

A/N: Based on a) people wanting her to hold out on him longer (which is what this was) and b) what i want to do on vacation, I think the vacation is going to have to be after Christmas.

FAQ: I’m not planning on pursuing the jacques/cheatbacks storyline rn, you can HC that however you want as for what she did that night (if anything). Don’t really wanna address the mom situation more, and probably won’t answer plot Qs. That way maybe you'll get the next story sooner --- I’m kinda trying to make this easier to write so it won’t take so much deliberation and weighing opposing inputs lol.

TBH it was supposed to just be sexy, smutty, scandalous, “we shouldn’t be doing this” PWP and it kinda got away from me. But I at least wanted to give a little insight into Joel’s POV with this one.

Now back to the agenda: [cock, baby!.gif ].

-------

You can follow @toxicfics and turn on notifications (click on the person at the top) for just the most major posts. You have to have push notifications turned on for tumblr on your phone.

All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea@evyiione@xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious@chernayawidow@ambassadortotrilliusprime@not-a-unique-snowflake-blog@jasminespringtime @romanarose@fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore@blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires@taeslarityy@str84pedro@lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy@fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine@worhols@fan-fiction-floozy@cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl@feministfanboi@gracieispunk@prettypartyfavor@am-3-thyst@babeincolor@milla-frenchy@switchbladedreamz@within-the-depths@am-3-thyst@may-machin@pedromania91 @sloanexx@paleidiot

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #stepdad!joel miller #dark!joel miller #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fic #stepdad!joel☠️#stepdad!joel #cw stepcest #joel jacks off #ppcu jacks off #toxicanonymity ☠️

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eiightysixbaby · 10 months

Text

cruel summer

no rules in breakable heaven

word count: 6.7k

pairing: modern!fuckboy!eddie x fem!reader

summary: eddie is your summer fling, your friend with benefits - or at least, that’s all he’s supposed to be. what happens when your feelings get in the way?

cw: 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI - SMUT. eddie is a fuckboy!! he acts like an ass in this, fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, angst, hurt with no comfort (yet), alcohol consumption, use of pet names, reader cries, like a lot honestly, miscommunication/misunderstanding, use of Y/N, as always if I missed something feel free to lmk!

author’s note: this fic is, of course, based on the song cruel summer by miss taylor swift, so I highly recommend listening to that if you haven’t! part two will be in the works soon! no idea when it’ll be posted, but it is coming >:)

Your fingers dug into the soft material of the mattress, face smooshed against the cotton sheets. Your brain felt foggy, the alcohol in your system making your whole body buzz slightly. Your back arched almost involuntarily as Eddie’s hips snapped roughly into your aching heat, bringing you fully back into the moment. He was railing you relentlessly from behind, rough hands taking a firm hold on your hips, keeping them in place for him. If it didn’t feel so good you’d almost feel bad for fucking in a bed that didn’t belong to either of you, Eddie having pulled you into a spare room at Steve’s house, escaping the noise of the party for some alone time. This is how things went with the two of you as of late, the wild and free atmosphere of summer leaving you craving each other and crossing boundaries. He’d call you late at night or maybe you’d call him, asking the other to come over. Letting Eddie fuck you raw till your insides burned and your body was spent. Leaving his trailer at 2 in the morning with your mascara running and his cum dripping down your thighs, just to do the same thing all over again in a few days.

You knew Eddie got around, knew you weren’t the only girl he was hooking up with. But the way he’d look at you when you were riding him and the way he’d caress your face as he’d lean in to kiss you made you feel like you were the only one. Like you were his. His energy was intoxicating, the sex even better, and you couldn’t get enough of him. No matter how hard you tried, he kept pulling you back in for more. Another hard thrust into you brought you back out of your drunk haze, his cock pulling all the way out just to slam fully back in. Your pussy welcomed him, enveloped him in the warmth of your walls, never wanting to let him go.

“Shit, baby, this pussy loves me,” Eddie grunts. “Suckin, me right in, fuck.”

You bite down on your lip hard, stifling what would’ve been a rather loud moan. Eddie pulls out and flips you onto your back, pushing your thighs to your chest, folding you right in half for him. Your pussy is on perfect display for him, wide open and pleading for him to come back in. He moves his hips expertly, cock gliding into you with complete ease despite his size. Your moans are staggered as he fucks you at a brutal pace, your whole body bouncing on the mattress with every thrust.

“My favorite fuckin’ girl, such a slut for me. No one lets me fuck them like you do, baby, mmmmmfuck,”

Your head spins at the praise, his choice of words. His favorite girl. You can’t help but wonder how many other girls he calls his favorite, too. You shake the thoughts away promptly, trying to allow yourself to just enjoy this moment with him. Enjoy having him for as long as you can. His calloused fingers are pressed into the doughy skin of your thighs, gripping with such intensity it almost hurts. Before you can fully process it you’re cumming around him, walls tightening over and over in a staggered pattern.

“G’na cum inside this pussy, baby, shit,” Eddie grunts before finally letting go.

His release paints your insides, your tight cunt milking every bit out of him. He pulls out once he’s fully spent, smacking your ass for good measure. You hear him zipping up his jeans, his belt buckle clanking as he secures it. He grabs a few tissues from the bedside table, gingerly wiping you clean before tossing them in the wastebasket.

“You’re such a doll, you know that right?” he asks, bending down to give you a quick peck on the lips.

You give him a half hearted smile, but he doesn’t seem to notice there’s any sadness behind it. He cautiously opens the bedroom door, slinking out under the guise of “letting you get situated”. Just like that, the euphoria is over. Your moment with him is gone, and he’ll slink back to the hustle and bustle of the party, leaving you in the shadows. You didn’t want to fall so hard for Eddie when your whole charade started, you really just wanted a fuck buddy. It’s just that he’s so goddamn alluring, and he’s sweet when he wants to be. He makes you feel good in ways no other guy has been able to, and it’s like you get drunk on him. You’re tumbling head over heels for Eddie, and to him you’re just one of many notches on his belt.

You fix yourself up, tidying up your appearance before heading back down to the party. A song you don’t recognize blares over the speakers, colorful lights flashing in the otherwise dark house. You check your phone for any texts, reading one from Nancy asking where you went. You decide you really don’t feel like answering that right now, slinking into the kitchen for another drink and slipping your phone back into the pocket of your jeans. You pour yourself some of whatever inebriating mixture sits in the pitcher on the countertop, the bright blue liquid filling your red plastic cup. You sip the drink, probably quicker than you should, walking past groups of people - couples getting a little too friendly with each other, a shirtless guy you don’t know standing on a table, a few girls huddled together on a sofa taking selfies.

You walk out to the backyard, the noise of the party becoming too much. The night air is warm and it smells sweet, a bonfire lit in the fire pit on the opposite side of the backyard. The unmistakable scent of the burning wood clings to your nose as you glance up into the trees where fireflies blink slowly. Your thighs ache, and you swear you can feel Eddie’s cum still leaking out of you. Your stomach twists in knots at the thought of it, wishing he’d stayed to help you clean up, wishing he’d kiss you in front of everyone to lay claim on you, wishing he’d let you snuggle into him as you sat around the bonfire. Wishing so desperately that he’d make you his, the way your friends always joke that he should because they can always sense the tension between the two of you.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when you hear a high pitched squeal and then a splash, looking up to see a girl’s head protruding from the water in the pool.

“Eddie!” she squeals, over exaggeratedly loud. “You got me all wet,” she pouts, “you’re gonna have to come in here with me.”

“No can do, sweets, can’t ruin the hair,” Eddie jokes, sitting down at the pool’s edge.

The unfamiliar girl pulls herself out of the water to sit beside him, reaching out and pretending to scrunch his hair with her wet fingers. Eddie laughs and leans away, grabbing her wrists with his much larger hands to stop her. She giggles as Eddie pulls her closer to him, slinking an arm around her waist. You feel like you could throw up, the skin of your cheeks heating up significantly. Eddie notices you standing up against the side of the house, meeting your eyes for only a moment before you turn and enter the large house once more. Your cup trembles in your hand, your stomach turning as you process the scene you just witnessed. He just fucked you raw upstairs, and already he’s got a new girl with him. He doesn’t even have the decency to wait until you’ve left, prick. You scowl, but the worst part is you know you can’t stay mad at him. You don’t actually think he’s a bad person, and you don’t know if you ever could. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes when you feel a delicate hand on your shoulder.

“Y/N? Hey, are you okay? Where have you been?”

“Nance - hey. Uh y-yeah I’m just… not feeling so well all of a sudden? I think I’d better get going-” you stammer, furiously wiping the wetness from your eyes.

Nancy’s eyes are no longer trained on you but instead are gazing out the floor-to-ceiling windows of the sun room. You turn to follow her gaze, and see that she’s looking right at Eddie, who’s now in the pool with the giggly girl, kissing her with her arms around his neck.

She looks back at you, catching the way you nervously chew your bottom lip and also catching the hickey that was left on your neck.

“You say the word and I swear to god I’ll kill him,” Nancy says, getting the sentence out just as Jonathan comes up behind her.

He doesn’t even need to ask who she’s referring to, and you see his eyes flicker up to look out the windows, becoming another witness to Eddie’s bullshit. He frowns slightly before turning his attention to you.

“Hey, kid, you okay?” he asks, patting you on the back with one firm hand.

You try to open your mouth to speak, but you can’t bring words to come out. Your throat feels thick and your lips start to wobble. You shake your head ‘no’ in favor of trying to talk and starting to sob, and your friends can tell you’re close to tears. You can hear Eddie and the girl shouting outside, and before you can turn around to look Nancy’s hurrying you out of the sun room. Her and Jonathan guide you into an empty bedroom, Nancy sitting beside you on the soft mattress of the bed, rubbing your back tentatively.

Your friends don’t know all of the details to what’s going on with you and Eddie, but they know enough. Considering most of them are your and his mutual friends, it’s not hard for speculation to go around based on the way the two of you act towards one another. And, quite frankly, they’re not stupid. You and Eddie disappearing for the same amount of time at group hangouts, the occasional flirtatious glances you share, you being visibly upset when he hasn’t spoken to you in a while, the pieces add up. They know you’re more sweet on Eddie than you let on and they know he’s a complete fuckboy asshole half the time, never quite knowing what’s going on with him and why he has to act the way he does with women. They never let Eddie in on your presumed feelings, they keep that secret guarded with their lives and for that you’re grateful. You know they know and you also know they’ll never make you say it out loud unless you’re ready to. But you have a feeling they must grow weary of picking up your pieces when he lets you down yet again, in ways they don’t have the full details on.

Nancy and Jonathan offer to get you a glass of water, both of them embarking on the rather simple task solely so they can discuss the situation at hand.

“What the fuck is his problem!?” Nancy seethes loud enough for her boyfriend to hear over the music.

“I don’t know, Nance, I don’t know. But I do know that if I have to see Y/N break one more time because of him I’m gonna lose it,” Jonathan responds, weaving past people in attempt to keep up with her.

Nancy just looks at him, her eyes sad and a little defeated. Jonathan understands the look. The look that says she knows Eddie upsets you far more than you ever tell them, a look that says she wishes she knew what to do in this situation.

She turns on the tap in the kitchen sink, filling a cup with ice and then with cold water. She jumps, spilling a little bit of the cup’s contents as Eddie walks in from outside, whooping and hollering and very intoxicated. The girl from the pool is clinging to his side, her hands roaming all over him. Jonathan rolls his eyes, leaning against the kitchen counter and facing away from the commotion.

“He’s such a fucking asshole sometimes,” Nancy says finally, having refilled the cup, now wiping her wet hand on her skirt. “Someone needs to knock some sense into him, or I’m gonna knock his teeth in.”

“Oooo, kitty’s got her claws out,” a voice purrs from beside her.

Nancy gasps, earning a roar of a laugh from Eddie. She smacks him on the arm, typically open to Eddie’s jokes and antics but extremely done with him in the present moment.

“Who’s got you so worked up, Nance?” Eddie slurs, stumbling a little before Jonathan shoves him back upright.

“He’s talking to me right now, actually,” she gives him a fake tight lipped smile, trying to push past him and get back to you.

“Me? What’d I do? You’ve barely even seen me all night!” Eddie shouts, almost knocking into a couple party goers as he tries to catch up.

“I really shouldn’t have to tell you what you did wrong, Eddie. Get your head out of your ass for once and figure it out yourself!” Nancy yells.

There’s a lull in the music as she says it, and several people turn to look in their direction, Steve and Robin sharing confused glances at the sight. Nancy storms off, leaving Jonathan face to face with Eddie.

“Think about it, man,” is all Jonathan says before he walks away, following after his girlfriend.

Eddie stands there, in the middle of a room packed with people, suddenly feeling very, very alone.

•

It’s been a week since you sat in a bedroom in Steve’s house, crying into Nancy’s shoulder as she did her best to console you. It’s been a week since you’ve had any interaction with Eddie, and your heart ached. Not because of how he behaved at the party, no, you couldn’t bring yourself to stay mad at him. Your heart ached with a longing to see him, a deep desire to have him. You’d kept the ringer turned up on your phone, hoping he’d call or text and ask you to come over, but to no avail so far. You huffed, dropping your phone down onto your bed beside you after checking it for the hundredth time in the last ten minutes. Your bedroom window is open slightly, letting the soft breeze and the sounds of summer nights penetrate your otherwise quiet abode. You lay with your legs dangling off the edge of your mattress, staring up at your ceiling and trying to will yourself to get up. You finally bring yourself to stand, pulling your coziest sweatshirt over your head and slipping on some shoes. You trod down the stairs to the lobby of your apartment building, stopping in front of the vending machines they so nicely placed there for residents. You were running out of snacks because you couldn’t bear to go out and go grocery shopping, so this was your best bet. You deserved some Cheetos and maybe a chocolate bar, god dammit. You stand there for a moment, skin glowing a blue-white hue from the fluorescent lights inside the machine. Your phone chimes in your pocket, breaking you from your haze. You grab it embarrassingly quickly, almost dropping it as you hold it up to look at the screen. It’s only Robin, sending an embarrassing photo of Steve at work.

You sigh, stuffing your phone back in your pocket and letting your head hang. You take a breath, trying of make yourself feel some sort of normal right now. You’re fine. You don’t need Eddie. You’re not gonna die. You press a few buttons on the vending machine, inserting your card before it dispenses your selections. You’re trudging back up to your apartment, ripping into your bag of Cheetos when your phone rings. You manage an impressive amount of self control as you wait till you’ve fully opened your door and taken your shoes off to see who’s calling. Eddie’s name lights up on your screen, and you feel your stomach do a somersault. You answer the call with shaky hands.

“Hello?” you force out around your mouthful of cheesy snacks, trying to sound as graceful as possible.

“Hey, sweetheart. I’m sorry I’ve been a little MIA lately. I missed you,” his voice purrs into the phone.

“I missed you too…” you admit, going against your brain telling you not to give into him.

“What’re you doing right now? Can I come pick you up?” he asks.

“Yeah, yeah of course. I’m not doing much of anything,” you can’t help but smile as you say it, your cheeks heating up.

“Cool, I’ll be there in fifteen,” Eddie promises before ending the call, leaving you standing in your living room with your cheese powder covered fingers, smiling at your phone like an idiot.

You hurry into your room to change, slipping on a loose little tennis skirt and a snug fitting crop top, the fabric hugging your body and accentuating your breasts perfectly. You pull a thin cardigan sweater over top of it to ward off the chill of the nighttime air. Eddie’s true to his word and in about fifteen minutes your phone chimes with a text from him.

‘Here. Don’t keep me waiting ;)’

You scurry out the door, grabbing your bag and your keys. You hurriedly apply a bit of lipgloss as you run down the stairs, knowing Eddie likes the flavor of this one. Eddie watches you from out his windshield as you come bounding towards his car, giving him a sly little wave in the process. He licks his lips as his eyes rake up and down your frame. You swing open the passenger side door, sitting down on the seat and letting your bag drop to the floor.

“Hey, sweets. You look pretty tonight,” he says, grabbing one of your hands and kissing it as he winks at you.

You blush, wondering if he’s sweetening you up to make up for the events of the party. You once again find yourself clinging to the notion that this time it’ll be different, this time he won’t leave you, this time he’ll stay the night after and you’ll make breakfast together in the morning and dance together in the kitchen. His hand squeezes yours as he drives, and he turns up a song on the radio. His stereo is tuned to the oldies station, as per usual. Hysteria by Def Leppard blasts through the speakers, Eddie tapping the fingers of his left hand on the steering wheel as he sings along exaggeratedly.

“I gotta know tonight, if you’re aloneeee toniiiiiight!” Eddie sings, off key and purposely pitchy to make you laugh.

You giggle in the passenger seat as he steals glances at you while he sings along, his right hand entwined with your left.

“Can’t stop this feelin’, can’t stop this fiiiiire,” he continues on, bringing your hand to his chest and pounding on it in a passionate performance.

The drive continues that way, Eddie singing any song he recognizes and turning every single one into a ballad somehow, serenading you. You’re a fit of giggles and stolen glances in his direction, smirking whenever you meet his eyes. You feel more alive in this moment than you have all week.

Tires crunch over gravel as Eddie’s car finally pulls into a parking spot behind The Hideaway, a local bar-slash-restaurant that leans further into the bar aspect with cheap drinks and greasy food, perfect for a summer night. Eddie jogs around to your side of the car to open the door, grabbing your hand and helping you out. He’s being much more chivalrous than usual and it makes your heart swell. This feels like a real date, and your hands tremble with giddiness. The two of you grab a table once you’re inside, the skin of your thighs sliding over the cool material of the booth. You order a couple drinks and whatever food strikes your fancy, one of Eddie’s hands reaching across the table to stroke your arm now and then as you sit and talk. You don’t miss his wandering glances down to your breasts and your lips, and he doesn’t miss the way you eye his ringed fingers and the chain around his neck.

Once you have a few drinks in you, you’ve loosened up quite a bit. Music plays loudly throughout the building and several people have gathered on the makeshift dance floor, moving to the rhythm. You’re pulling Eddie out of his seat, walking backwards onto the floor to dance with him. You pull him close till he’s pressed against your backside, letting your hips sway against him. You don’t miss the way he stiffens when your ass presses into his crotch, his body going tense and his grip on your waist getting tighter. You lean your head back a little bit, inviting him in to kiss your neck. His soft lips press into your sensitive skin, nipping at the soft spot where your neck meets your shoulder. His dark curls hang in his face and tickle your skin, the cold metal of his rings digging into the soft skin of your waist left exposed by your crop top.

You dance like this for a while, touches growing more intimate and lips becoming more reluctant to leave each other’s skin. Finally, Eddie decides he can’t take it anymore. He’s rock hard pressed up against you and the way your body moves is sinful. He pulls you off the floor and into a private bathroom, locking the door quickly behind him. As soon as he does he pulls you to him, kissing you with fervor as his hands roam your body. You melt right into him, your body pliant to whatever he wants to do to you. Your tongue prods into his mouth and you roll your hips into his, taking what you want. Your hand tugs on the collar of his shirt, his breath coming out of his nostrils in heavy huffs as he kisses you like his life depends on it.

He walks you backwards to press you against the small counter for the sink, smiling into the heated kiss when you jump to sit on the counter immediately. His fingers find their way up your thighs, roaming further until they reach the sticky heat between them. Eddie wastes no time, hooking a finger under the fabric of your panties and sliding them to the side. You groan into his open mouth, and his cock twitches in his jeans at the sound. He dips two fingers inside of your warm, wet cunt, the digits being sucked in instantly.

“Pussy’s so fucking greedy for me, did my favorite girl miss me?” Eddie’s voice is a husky growl as he speaks, lips mere centimeters from yours.

All you can do is nod, a high pitched moan escaping your lips. His favorite girl his favorite girl his favorite girl. It never gets old hearing him call you that, he knows exactly what to say to get you to bend to his every whim. His fingers scissor inside of you, your wet walls squelching as he pries them apart.

“Fucking filthy, baby. Such a little whore for me, hm?” he grins, his pink tongue rolling over his front teeth.

Your moans leave your mouth in breathy spurts as he continues to pump his fingers in and out, curling them right into your sweet spot. You lean your head forward, resting on his chest as his free hand comes to rest on your lower back, keeping you close. His thumb presses to your clit, rubbing the sensitive bead with just the right amount of pressure. He knows exactly what you like, exactly how to bring you to the edge. You’re whimpering for him, his lips coming to crash against yours, teeth nipping at the plump skin. The alcohol in your system amplifies your senses, making every touch he gives you feel magnified.

“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart? Gonna cum for me so soon?” Eddie groans, sensing how close you’re getting by the way your walls tense around his fingers.

You can’t even reply before waves of pleasure wrack your body, your orgasm hitting you incredibly quickly. You cry out his name as his fingers continue to curl inside of you, a smirk gracing his face, cockiness taking over completely.

“Suuuuuch a fuckin’ slut for me, hm? Gonna let me fuck you baby?” his husky voice fills your ears, along with the sound of his belt being undone.

He knows you won’t deny him, knows how badly you need this. You hear the zzzzzzzip of the zipper on his jeans being tugged down, watch as he pulls the black denim down just enough. Keep your eyes trained on him as he grabs his cock from beneath the green cotton of his boxers, yanking it into view. His boxers get shoved down with his jeans, resting just below his ass. The pink head of his cock is shiny with pre cum as you wrap a hand around it, lining him up with your aching hole. He sucks in a breath as he pushes the tip in, reveling in the way you tilt your head back in ecstasy as he parts your folds. Your tits are propped up perfectly thanks to your snug top and your push-up bra, swells of skin on display for his eyes to rake over. He dips down, attaching to your collarbone and sucking the thin skin, licking over the stinging bruises he leaves behind.

“F-feels so good, Eddie,” you choke out, gasping as he thrusts as deep as he possibly can, knocking the breath out of your lungs.

“I know it does baby, know how much you love this cock,” Eddie growls.

His hands dig into your hips, holding you in place while he fucks you ruthlessly. The lewd sounds of his shaft gliding in and out of your soaked cunt echo off the bathroom walls, his balls slapping with every jolt of his hips. You tangle your fingers in his curls, knowing it drives him crazy. Eddie doesn’t let you in on a whole lot of the things that make him weak, but the hair pulling one was discovered involuntarily. You’d done it the first time you ever hooked up and he’d moaned embarrassingly loud before he could stop himself, and you’d been using the knowledge to your advantage ever since. He curses as you tug on his dark brown locks, his cock pounding into you even harder. Your body feels like it’s on fire in the best way, so close to release again already. Another bar patron knocks on the bathroom door, only grabbing your attention for a fraction of a second before Eddie grabs your face with one hand, turning you to look directly at him.

“Don’t worry about that, focus on me,” he instructs, his jaw hanging open in a moan as he drives particularly deep into you.

His forehead rests on yours, brown eyes staring straight into yours as he ruins you. The movement of his hips grow messy, and you know he’s close. You’re free falling over the edge in no time, your heavy-lidded eyes trying their best to focus on Eddie as your second orgasm crashes through you.

“That’s it, baby, so good for me,” he grunts, not slowing his movements even a bit.

“Cum inside me, Eddie, please,” you whine, clawing desperately at the collar of his shirt.

“Gonna give it to you, baby, gonna fucking cum,” he’s panting, rolling his hips a couple more times into your soaking cunt until he’s a goner.

You feel him twitch slightly inside you as spurts of his cum fill you to the brim. His eyes squeeze shut as he rides it out, slowly rocking in and out of you, milking himself for every drop. He pulls out of you carefully, causing you to wince at the emptiness. You hop down from the counter on shaky legs, his cum mixing with your release as it slowly rolls down your thighs.

“You’re so fucking hot, babe,” Eddie almost whines, grabbing your face to kiss you.

He situates himself back in his jeans and leaves you to clean up, telling you he’ll be at your table from before. You wipe the mess off your thighs with the horribly thin toilet paper the bar offers, sitting on the grimy toilet seat to pee. You deem yourself good to go after washing your hands and open the door, catching Eddie giving you a little wave from the booth you’d been sitting at. You bound over to him, an unmistakable wave of relief at the fact that he was waiting right where he said he’d be. The two of you are about to leave, throwing cash on the table for the staff to pick up, when you hear a chipper voice call your name.

“Y/N!?”

You spin around, searching in the direction of the voice when your eyes land on a head of strawberry blonde hair and bright blue eyes.

“Chrissy? Oh my god, it’s so good to see you!” you shout, turning to Eddie briefly. “I’ll be right back, kay? I have to catch up with her real quick!”

You jog towards your old friend, wrapping her in a tight hug. She doesn’t seem to take note of who you were with, or if she does she doesn’t pry for details, and you’re grateful for that. You hadn’t seen Chrissy much at all since high school, and the two of you get right to chit-chatting. You tell her about your job, she tells you about her breakup with Jason, so on and so forth. A little more time passes than you’d intended, so you leave her with a mutual promise to get together soon and yet another hug. You turn to find Eddie so you can leave, your brows furrowing when you don’t see him.

Finally your eyes land on him, sitting on a stool at the bar, a blonde bartender leaning over the counter with a hand on his bicep, and another woman standing on his one side, eyeing him up. The bartender leans further over the counter, her tits pressed together and on display from her low cut top, basically staring Eddie in the face. He seems to be laughing, striking up conversation in his disgustingly easy manner. Your stomach turns and your face grows hot, and you bring a hand to your mouth to muffle a cry as you rush out the door of the bar. The tears flow instantly, there’s no use in even trying to stop them. You grasp your phone in a trembling hand, dialing Nancy’s cell. The lights from the street go blurry as your eyes burn with tears, your chest heaving as the dial tone rings in your ear.

“Hello?” her voice picks up, concern evident in her tone given that it’s 11pm and you’re calling her.

“Nancy,” you sob, trying to steady your voice but it’s fruitless, “can- can you please pick me up? I’m at The Hideaway,” you stutter, wiping your nose with your sleeve.

“Jonathan and I are on the way. Sit tight, ok?” you agree and the call ends, leaving you alone until they arrive.

You tilt your head back, leaning against the brick wall of the old building, sobs wracking your entire body. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You curse yourself for believing that this night with Eddie would go any differently than the others. Your mind replays the way he sang to you in the car, the way he held your hand, the way he opened doors for you and stroked your skin at the table earlier. The lump in your throat is impossible to swallow, and you gasp for air between your cries. Nancy’s car pulls up at the curb in front of you, Jonathan in the drivers seat. She immediately jumps out and runs to you, leaning down to your shriveled frame as you curl into yourself. She all but scoops you up, an arm around your shoulder as she guides you to the backseat of the car. She gets in beside you rather than returning to the passenger seat, a gentle and soothing hand resting on your knee as Jonathan starts to drive. You catch the way he glances warily at you in the rearview mirror, face riddled with concern. Your head is pounding, the drinks you had earlier still making your thoughts slightly hazy and everything around you feel slow. When Eddie picked you up, you’d imagined yourself going home with him, making out in his van, tangling up together in his bedsheets. You hadn’t predicted yourself to be drunk in the back of your best friend’s car, crying like a baby on your way home. You mentally scold yourself, embarrassed with the way your friends have to see you, the way they have to try and pick up your pieces when they don’t even know what’s wrong. This is the second time in a week that these two have consoled you, and you feel horrible for making them put up with it.

“Were you with Eddie tonight?” Nancy asks cautiously, but there’s no judgment in her voice.

All you can do is nod, your eyes glassy as you gaze out the window. She squeezes your knee, and the rest of the ride back to your apartment is silent.

Nancy makes sure that you get safely inside, leading you into your room to help you change into some comfortable clothes. She fills your favorite water bottle and grabs your favorite blanket off of the couch, handing them both to you.

“Nance-” you go to thank her, but she cuts you off.

“You don’t have to thank me. You don’t have to say anything. Just take care of yourself, alright? Call me if you need anything,” she squeezes your hand and gives you a tight smile before leaving, closing the door quietly behind her.

The sobs that had started to subside come back in full swing once you’re left alone, hot tears rolling down your cheeks. You take shaky breaths, your heart feeling like it’s been shattered to pieces in your chest. You wanted to believe that Eddie was going to redeem himself this time, and to see that he had no shame about flirting with other women while in the bar that he drove you to stung deep to your core. What hurts even worse is that all you crave, still, is his arms around you, his lips on yours, a moment of peace in a fragile heaven. You curl into a ball on your mattress, letting all of the feelings out in the quiet of your lonely apartment.

Eddie was in a slight panic when he couldn’t find you anywhere in the bar. He had gotten bored while you were catching up with Chrissy, so he went to get himself one last drink before the two of you went on your way. He sunk himself onto a seat at the bar, where a brunette about his age was chatting with the bartender. The second he sat down, he could feel their eyes roaming all over him. The flirting was incessant from the get-go, and truly, all Eddie wanted was to take you home with him, his body craving a second round of you. He had no interest in the two women before him, but for the sake of keeping the peace he just allowed them to fawn over him, roaming hands and seductive eyes drinking him in. He made small talk, forcing smiles and even a couple laughs just to appease the crowd before he could dip. He downed his drink fairly quickly, intentionally so, so that he could make his exit and find you. All he wanted was to grab your hand and kiss you and hold you all night long and- fuck.

He shakes his head as if to rid himself of the thoughts. His brain had been overwhelmingly full of you since the party at Steve’s, and he was uneasy about it. The situation with you was strictly friends-with-benefits, nothing more. It can’t be more. Dark eyes scan the premises, searching for you but coming up unlucky. He checks with Chrissy, who didn’t see where you went after you said your goodbyes, he knocks politely on the bathroom doors to no avail. He goes out to his vehicle only to find it empty. He calls you once, twice, three times, only for the line to ring and ring. With ever perfect timing, a text pops up on his phone screen.

Jonathan: Nancy and I drove Y/N home. What happened, man?

Eddie’s brow furrows as he reads the message, why did you call them to take you home? What did happen? He curses to himself, climbing into his car and peeling out of the parking lot, heading in the direction of your apartment. His fingers drum nervously on the steering wheel, every red light feeling like it takes years to change to bright green. He finally pulls up to your building, his body feels unsteady as he walks up the stairs to your door. He knocks with a shaky hand.

You’re startled by the knock at your door, your crying having stopped for the time being and your body starting to relax. The knock comes again, urgent sounding, and you trod down your hallway and towards the door. Your head pounds and your sinuses are stuffy from your breakdown, and you wince as the loud banging sounds on your door yet again. You pull it open, met with the shaggy hair and big eyes of the man you’ve been wallowing over.

“Y/N, what the fuck!? You scared me half to death, why did you leave without me?” Eddie nearly shouts, running a hand through his hair.

His question dumbfounds you, and you almost want to laugh at the absurdity.

“Why did I leave? Why did I leave!? I don’t know, Eddie, why don’t you ask the bimbo bartender and her friend, and god knows what other women you flirted with when I walked away for maybe twenty fucking minutes!?” the words spill out of you, and you’re shocked at your ability to call him out.

“The bartender-? What? Sweets, I wasn’t flirting with anyone I was just-”

“I don’t want to fucking hear it, Eddie, okay? You pulled the same shit at Steve’s party last weekend! Hook up with me and make me feel sooooo special and then turn around and woo someone else right after. I’m sick of it!” your voice is raised, leaving Eddie wide-eyed in front of you.

“Oh, you’re sick of it? You’re sick of me?” Eddie no longer feels like he owes you an explanation, his need to defend himself taking over.

“I’m sick of keeping secrets, Eddie! I’m sick of not telling our friends what the fuck is going on between us because I don’t want to make you out to be the bad guy! I’m so god damn tired of watching you flirt with every woman under the fucking sun,” your voice wavers, anger trickling in.

“Why the fuck do you care if I flirt with other women? Why does it matter?” Eddie counters, holding his hands out in exasperation.

“Because I love you, Eddie! I’m in love with you!” you shout, tears streaming from your eyes now in a mixture of sadness and anger and passion.

The silence is palpable as Eddie just stands there, shaking his head a little bit. Your heart feels as though it might beat out of your chest.

“What, is that the worst fucking thing you’ve ever heard?” you challenge.

He turns on his heel and exits without a word, leaving you to slam your door shut. You sink down on the inside of it, tears flowing harder than ever before. His silent exit was worse than any words he could have said, cutting you right to the bone, leaving you to bleed all alone.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #modern!eddie munson #fuckboy!eddie munson

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rovsemyri · 3 months

Text

S. GOJO HCS! ₊˚ʚ 🧊 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

random satoru headcannons/imagines ; [ pt 1 ] ಇ.

𐙚.. cw: !cheating au,size kink, degrading, praise, dom!gojo, sub!reader, fem!reader, overstimulation, oral sex (m! receiving, pain kink. toxic!gojo, slapping

𐙚.. synopsis: satoru’s the type to….

SATORU’S the type to make you answer the phone when your boyfriend calls while he’s balls deep pounding into you from the back. making sure to hit your sweet spot each time, amused by your struggle to hide your choked moans. “babe? you there?” your boyfriend's voice comes through the phone. little does he know your being railed by another man. “yeah!” you manage to choke out before having gojo push your head back down into the pillows, thrusting his hips harder each time your boyfriend waits for a response through the phone.

“alright…” your boyfriend slightly catches on a little, but he says nothing. “ so, i'll pick you up at 8:00.. for our date, yeah?” he asks , “yeah! uh- babe, i gotta go- nngh~” you end the call in a panic, not being able to suppress your moans any longer, you already know you’re going to have to make an excuse for your slip up on the phone, but right now, you can’t think straight at all, not when the strongest jujutsu sourcer is stretching out your cunt right now.

satoru groans, tightening his grip on your hips, his thrusts becoming sloppier as he reaches his release. soft groans falls from his lips as he continues fucking into you. you begin to feel yourself giving out…its becoming too much. satoru pulls your hips towards him, slamming himself deep inside of you, causing his name to slip from your lips. “ didn’t you say you could take it, pretty? don’t act like you don’t like it..” he chokes out between his own moans, coming closer to his release. “Your pretty cunt tightened around me while you spoke to him” he let out a chuckle, fastening his pace. “s-satoru“ , please..” you beg him.

not holding back anymore, he grabs you by your hair, pulling you closer to him. “next time, let your boyfriend hear how much better i can fuck you.” he growls into your ear.

SATORU’S the type to continuously fuck you senselessly until you’re no longer able to use words. he’ll promise to go easy on you, fulfilling his promise at first but once your cunt tightens around him, he can’t contain himself anymore and slams himself into you. he loves seeing you completely fucked out, tears running down face, and you slowly giving into letting him use you for his own pleasure. “my pretty slut isn’t finished yet, right baby?” he asks, pulling out just to slam back into you harshly a few seconds later to remind you that he's only getting started.

SATORU’S the type to make you look at him while he’s inside of you, everytime you look away or squirm he'll stop. “didn’t i say to look at me, slut?” he groans, grabbing you by the chin, forcing you to look at him. your eyes welled up with tears, bucking your hips towards him. “keep your eyes up here, pretty girl.”

SATORU’S the type to change positions without warning. ruining you from inside and out, leaving marks on your hips from his big hands keeping them in place. mid-way, he’ll forcefully pull you towards him, flipping you onto your back. he doesn’t even give you enough time to adjust yourself before he pushes his leaking cock back into you. pushing down on your lower stomach, a grin appears on his face. “ya feel that, princess? look how well you take me” he moans as he makes you watch how your lower stomach bulges each time he pushes himself deeper into your walls.

SATORU’S the type to make you hate him on purpose, just for him to remind you how much you love when he fucks you. on your knees looking up at him, your makeup running down your face. “awee you pretty thing..” he smiles looking down at you, slapping the tip of his length on your tongue, admiring every bit of this sight. He knew just how to make you hate him. fucking on you and then ghosting you for weeks, random arguements, especially knowing that your boyfriend didn’t treat you well either. as much as you hated him, you couldn’t help yourself, he just fucks you soooo much better than your boyfriend.

“I hate you.” you coo at him, but instead of the reaction you expected, he just smiled before unexpectedly pushing your head down on his length. “you hate me?” he laughs looking down at you choking on his cock. you try to answer by shaking your head ‘yes’ but he refuses to let you come up for air. pulling you by your hair. . “i don’t think you hate me. you might think you hate me but that filthy cunt of yours says otherwise. I can smell your arousal from here” he says, watching as your eyes water and he finally decides to let you breathe. he lets you breathe for a moment before deciding that was enough even though you haven’t fully caught your breath. he slides himself back into your mouth before watching you flail your arms around before resting your hands resting on his thighs, nails digging into his skin. he winces in pain before saying “breathe through your nose, bitch” as he slaps your face, making you flinch.

you could tell he’s almost at his release by the way his cock twitches each time you tighten your lips around him. you try breathing through your nose more, taking him in your mouth begins to feel easier until he’s pushing you down farther than you already were. you feel the tears spill out of your eyes from how far down your throat he was. wiping your tears he pulls you off him, taking his cock into his hands, swiping himself against your lips slightly to tease you. “open your mouth” he orders and you obey. jerking himself off as he rests the tip of his cock on ur mouth he lets out a soft groan, “what do you say?” he grins. before you're even able to respond, he groans, releasing on your face, watching as he covers your face in his semen. He smiles and says “didn’t i ask you a question?”

“t-thank you”

“good girl”

#gojo smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna smut #gojo satoru #jjk geto #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk nanami #satorugojo #satoru smut #geto smut #jjk hcs #jjk imagines #jjk lemon

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angelltheninth · 1 year

Note

Loved your Star Wars Threesome hds. Can you do some for Genshin men too? You can choose the combos.

I sure as damn well can Anon! I think a lot of these combos are obvious but what the hell, hot either way.

Pairing: Kaeya, Diluc, Itto, Gorou, Ayato, Thoma, Pantalone, Dottore, Al-Haitham, Kaveh, Childe, Zhongli x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, threesome, clit stimulation, blowjob, double pentation, anal sex, banter, degradation, praise, dirty talk, marking, competition, table sex, breeding kink

A/N: This is what you if you can't decide who you want more, you just have them both.

KAEYA + DILUC

"You seem to be enjoying this more then the two of us sweetheart." Kaeya's lips find and tug on your earlobe, his hands firmly hooked under your legs, keeping you in the air as he thrusts his cock into your cunt, your arousal dripping onto the hard wooden floor.

Behind you Diluc kisses the back of your neck as your back arches against his chest. "Should have told me you wanted to share. She's so pretty, you know I wouldn't have said no. She's too good too pass up on." Your legs twitch and spasm as you feel Diluc's throbbing dick pushing into your ass. Kaeya laughs, slowing down to let Dulic adjust.

"This is just one of her many fantasies." The two men fall into perfect synchronized rhythm, pulling out just at the other thrusts in, never leaving either hole empty for long, "Starting tonight we'll be taking turns on you, so make sure to keep up."

ITTO + GOROU

"So pretty." Gorou moaned, his cock throbbing and dripping with cum as he watched Itto rail you from behind. The general had his ears pinned all the way down, his mouth opened in a permeant moan that matched yours in both volume and constancy.

"Hear that babe, the general here think's you're real pretty. It'd be rude not to thank him." Itto jerked you forward with his hips slamming against yours. You gasped as you fell, your head right in front of Gorou. You started at his aching, heavy balls, kissing, sucking each one into your mouth and releasing with a wet pop before you liked your way to the cockhead, flicking your tongue over the tip a few times.

Finally taking his cock into your mouth your moans became muffled, replaced only by Gorou's and Itto's grunts. "Fuck. Slower, don't want to come yet. Not yet." His claws dug into your back, leaving thin scratch marks that Itto kissed over. His thighs made a constant slapping sound against yours, you couldn't decide which you liked more, the taste of Gorou's cock and cum, or the stretch and fill of Itto's. You came from both, almost at the same time. You were still struggling to swallow Gorou's cum as you felt Itto's flood your pussy walls with his.

AYATO + THOMA

"Thoma, don't just stand there with your mouth open. Why don't you use hers. You're always helping others, now help yourself." Ayato pinned your legs open on his thighs. Thoma who still had all his clothes on watched as your wet cunt got pounded repeatedly. He gulped and with tentative steps got closer, losing his pants in the process.

His cock was pulsing in his hand, the tip an angry red color, just begging to be satisfied, "This alright?" He asked you, his face turning pink. The first lick had the warrior gasping, his hands grabbing your head, "Had my eye on you for a long time. I thought it was selfish to want you. But now I can have you. Finally feel you. Mmn. See you. See your lips parting for my cock."

"You can have more then her mouth. After I'm done with her that is." The throbbing cock in your pussy jerked with jealousy. You didn't forget about him. And you let him know by rolling your hips down, taking Ayato's cock all the way to his balls, your ass smacking against him with a loud smack. "On second thought I might never be done with you beautiful. Certainly not if you keep treating my cock this nicely."

PANTALONE + DOTTORE

Dottore's rough hands grabbed your ass cheeks, most certainly leaving his handprints on them by now, "Here I thought I'd see you as cockdrunk as can be and you keep finding ways to prove me wrong. Never been so happy about that." He pressed your hips harder into the table, his balls smacking against you while his cock kept ejaculating into your already messy hole.

"What else did you expect? This little whore has been going from my cock to yours for months. About time she got her punishment. Or reward." He smiled down at you, his hands clenching your wrists tight, preventing you from moving. You didn't want to move, you wanted to keep chocking on Pantalone's cock all night no matter how you whimpered or how tears rolled down your face.

"Reward indeed. A set of holes like you should be grateful we're treating you so well. Come on. Say thank you." Try as you may your words kept being interrupted by the two men savagely fucking you from both ends. What's more you felt Dottore finger pushing into your ass, making your pussy flutter around his cock, never giving him the opportunity to go soft, "Look at you. Little slut having all three holes fucked at once. We'll use each one of them tonight, don't even think about telling us to stop." That was the last thing you wanted tonight. You'd keep them satisfied even if it made you pass out. Which knowing Dottore just might.

AL-HAITHAM + KAVEH

"I'm so glad we decided to let you stay here. If I knew you sucked cock that good I'd have convinced Al-Haitham sooner." Kaveh looked behind him at Al-Haitham who was too focused on drilling his cock into your needy pussy to retort, "You even got him to shut up for once. Your cunt might be magic."

"For once we agree." Al-Haitham pulled you up allowing you to wrap your legs around his back, "I've never had one that felt so perfect around me. I want to keep my dick inside you forever beautiful. You're incredibly talented at this." His hands tightened on your hips, his cock on the verge of coming, his pace slightly sloppier then before but just as deep.

Kaveh on the other hand slowed to a crawl, his balls warm and heavy on your chin, his taste strong as he dragged in out of your mouth, "You should feel her mouth then. You must have practiced that tongue a lot to be able to do that. Ah, I think we'll keep you as a roommate. You passed the trial run. Or you will when we see how much cum you can hold."

ZHONGLI + CHILDE

Two sets of hands held you down. Childe's wrapped tight around your back, Zhongli's on your hips, holding you at the perfect angle for his cock to sink in as deep as it could. "You're being greedy. Who knew your pussy could handle two cocks at once. I must say I'm impressed." Childe pecked your lips teasingly, taking note of how glossy your eyes were.

As if on cue Zhongli drove his hips hard into yours, sending your head back as a loud moan tor from your throat, his eyes narrowing on Childe's smug face. "Pity you didn't learn your lesson the first time around. You humans, always wanting more then you can have. You, my darling, better be ready to face the consequences of this greed."

The two of them kept their thrusts strong, the sounds of your pussy squelching not stopping for a second as it was always filled by one of their cocks, "We're gonna dump so much come in you just like you want. Fuck you might even get pregnant and you won't know which one of us it was that breed this tight little cunt." Imagining you pregnant awoke something primal in Zhongli, his hips rammed against yours at lightning speed, "Alright, lets see who wins." Childe laughed to meet the challenge head on, or in this case cock in.

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genshinluvr · 9 months

Text

Final Moments

Pairings: Various Honkai Star Rail Men x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: You're somewhere alone, bleeding, and on the verge of death. Everyone is scrambling to reach out to you, but you're not picking up your phone, and no one knows where you are. Not even Nanook knows your whereabouts. You didn't think you could die in a universe you didn't belong to, but you were wrong. At least you were able to hear their voices in your final moments, right?

Note: I haven't written angst in so long. This is probably not the best angst I've written. This is an answer to an ask I received not long ago. I'm not sure how I feel about this mini-fic, but I think something sad happening for once is somewhat good for a fanfic one-shot series. To be really honest, it doesn't feel like angst to me. Idk if it's because I wrote it or if it's because it's not sad enough. Who knows. I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Major character death, blood, probably my worst angst

Word Count: 3.9k

Your connection with Nanook has been severed. Whenever you sleep, you and Nanook communicate while you’re asleep. When you’re unconscious due to being knocked out by a flying prosthetic arm, Nanook is there— while you’re physically unconscious. You and Nanook have always been connected through body and mind since your arrival to their— Nanook, your Astral Express, Stellaron Hunter, Xianzhou Luofu, and Jarilo-VI companions— universe. However, this is the first time you realize you and Nanook are no longer connected to each other.

In the state of unconsciousness, you’re in the void. Only this void is different from the one where Nanook is covering the sun and sky. This abyss you’re in is pitch black, and you’re the only living being in the endless darkness. There’s no sky, no sun, no stars to light a path along the way in the void. At first, you’re uncertain whether you’re physically in this void or if you’re just unconscious.

That is until you hear ringing in your ears, and light starts flooding in. You gasp aloud as if you finally made it to the surface after being underwater for more than you can handle. Your lungs hurt, and so does your head. As a matter of fact, now that you have regained consciousness, your entire body aches, and you’re tired. So tired. Your eyelids threaten to shut, but you’re trying your best not to lose consciousness again.

Where are you?

What happened?

You push yourself upward and slump against the wall, choking out a gasp and breathing heavily. Your heart hurts— you didn’t think it was possible for you to feel your heart hurting to the point where you want to cry. Your vision is blurry, and you try to rub your eyes, but you can’t feel your arms. Exhaustion soon overtakes your body, and you fall unconscious.

Meanwhile, on the Astral Express, everyone is crowding around on the Parlor Car, their phones facing upward on the table. Everyone has been trying to call you, only for them to get a voicemail, or the call would fail to go through. The monotonous beep haunts their minds as everyone frantically tries to reach out to you.

“Are you sure the signal is good? Maybe we can’t call them because of the awful signal on the Astral Express,” Caelus comments, chewing on his nails.

March ignores Caelus’ comment. She presses her phone against her ears, listening to the ringing. If the signal was terrible, then how come the phone call was going through for her? The ringing stopped briefly, making March gasp, startling everyone on the Astral Express.

“Hi, this is [Y/N]! Sorry, I can’t come to the phone right now—”

March groans, ending the call. “Never mind. I thought they answered my call, but I was wrong,” March sighs in defeat, sliding her phone on the table.

The lights on the Astral Express flicker, and the door slams open. Nanook steps into the Parlor Car, his gold eyes scanning the Parlor Car, searching for your face. Nanook sighs and stays close to the entrance, running his hands through his hair. Just as Nanook feared: you’re not on the Astral Express either.��

Welt furrows his eyebrows at the Aeon of Destruction. “Nanook. Your presence is sudden,” says Welt.

“Where is [Y/N]? Are they not on the Astral Express?” Nanook asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Unfortunately, they’re not on the Astral Express. We,” Jing Yuan gestures to him, Blade, Luocha, Luka, Sampo, and Gepard, “were contacted by the Astral Express in hopes that [Y/N] is on the Xianzhou Luofu or Jarilo-VI. To everyone’s disappointment, they are nowhere to be found.”

After hearing Jing Yuan’s explanation, Nanook starts to visibly panic. The Aeon of Destruction paces back and forth, taking deep breaths and muttering something under his breath. Everyone on the Astral Express gazes at Nanook worriedly. This is the first time they see him act this way. Nanook has always had this cool, calm, and collected exterior. Nothing can phase him, and only you can get a reaction out of him.

Sampo raises a finger. “Hold up. Why are you asking us where [Y/N] is? Aren’t you the one who can communicate with [Y/N] inside their dreams?” Sampo asks, crossing his arms over his chest and raising his eyebrows at the Aeon.

“Nanook, have you been able to contact them by any chance? We’ve been hitting countless dead ends, and we’re really worried about them,” Gepard says, looking at Nanook pleadingly.

Nanook sighs and stops pacing. He looks at the people on the Astral Express with a deep frown. While Sampo is correct about him being able to communicate with you through your dreams, the people on the Astral Express, Xianzhou Luofu, and Jarilo-VI aren’t the only ones whose struggling to get into contact with you.

Nanook wasn’t able to contact you through your dreams prior to your disappearance. When Nanook brought you into this universe, Nanook made sure to form this connection with you— this unbreakable bond between you and him. But despite creating this unbreakable bond, it somehow severed, and he can no longer contact you through your dreams and unconscious state.

This bond is supposed to be a way for him to track you anywhere in this universe. No matter how out of reach you are from him. Whether you’re in the Astral Express, on Jarilo-VI, the Xianzhou Luofu, the void, etc., Nanook should be able to feel your presence somewhere throughout the universe. Nanook mutters something, closing his eyes and pulling at the roots of his hair with frustration.

“What’s Nanook saying?” Himeko whispers, not taking her eyes off the anguish Aeon.

Luka whispers, “He’s muttering something about [Y/N] and the bond between them. I can’t hear what Nanook is saying, but those are the things I can pick out.”

Dan Heng stares at his phone intently, staring at your contact picture while listening to the monotonous ring. This is the fourth attempt. The fourth time he’s tried to call you, only for there to be a voicemail or just constant beeping that’s shaking him to his core. You can be anywhere in the universe, and finding your precise location without you telling them where you’re at will be the most challenging thing they deal with.

“Are they still not answering their phone, Dan Heng?” Luocha asks, approaching the black-haired man.

Dan Heng sighs, ending the call when he hears your voicemail through the speakers. “No,” Dan Heng mutters, shaking his head.

Blade stares at the panicking Nanook, frowning deeply. Blade sighs, rubbing his temples with shaky hands. As much as Blade wishes he was mishearing the things Nanook was muttering to himself, the more Blade thinks about it, the more it makes sense. Nanook is the one that brought you into this universe— he should know your exact location no matter what planet and fleet you’re on. Nanook should be able to communicate with you through your dreams or unconscious state, and because Nanook is visibly panicking and stressing out over your whereabouts, Blade concludes that—

“Your connection with [Y/N] has been severed, isn’t it?” Blade asks, breaking the tense silence in the Astral Express and bringing Nanook out of his thoughts.

Nanook clenches his jaws, nodding. “It has been severed, unfortunately. I do not know how it happened, and I’m sure [Y/N] isn’t the one that severed it. There’s no way for them to sever the connection,” Nanook replies.

Everyone stares at Nanook in horror. If Nanook is unable to contact you, then it’s very unlikely they’ll be able to find you sooner. You, [Y/N]. The same person not from their universe, the same precious star everyone holds dear to their hearts— whether as a best friend, little sibling, or a small crush that developed into something bigger— the same star that shines the brightest in the universe. You’re somewhere out there in the universe, exposed to dangers you’re not used to handling. Heck, everyone didn’t plan on letting you be exposed to any hazards that exist in this universe, but now?

“So, you’re saying there’s no way for any of us to contact [Y/N]?” Welt asks, raising his eyebrows at Nanook.

While Welt looks calm on the outside, the man is freaking out internally. How did this happen in the first place? You were supposed to be safe and sound under his watch, but you suddenly disappeared without a trace, and no one was able to reach out to you or track you down. Not even the Aeon of Destruction is able to track you down, and the Aeon has connections with you— well, had a connection with you.

“What are we going to do now, Mr. Yang? Searching for [Y/N] seems impossible at this point,” Caelus says, plopping down on the chair and running his hands through his hair.

Jing Yuan shakes his head. “I’ll have Yanqing lead the Cloud Knights to search throughout the Xianzhou Luofu,” Jing Yuan says, taking his phone from the table and sending rapid texts to his blond retainer.

Gepard nods. “And I will have the Silvermane Guards patrol the Overworld and the Underworld. If they see [Y/N], their duty is to detain [Y/N] until we arrive to get them,” says Gepard as he grabs his phone to message Dunn.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Detain [Y/N]? As in, keep them in cuffs and behind bars?!” Sampo exclaims, propping his hands on his hips, and looks at Gepard with disbelief.

Gepard, Welt, Nanook, and Dan Heng sigh simultaneously, rubbing their temples and pinching the bridge of their noses after hearing Sampo’s question. March snorts, rolling her eyes. The door to the Parlor Car opens. Pom-Pom waddles into the room, his eyes scanning the Parlor Car for a familiar face other than the ones that are present.

Pom-Pom sighs with disappointment. “I see that none of you have found [Y/N],” Pom-Pom says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Himeko gives Pom-Pom a sympathetic look. “Sorry, Pom-Pom, but we still haven’t found them. They’re not answering our texts or phone calls, and not even Nanook can contact them,” Himeko replies.

Pom-Pom sighs and waddles to the Phonograph, pressing his forehead against the machine. A dark stormy cloud looms over Pom-Pom’s head as he lets out a string of whimpers and sniffles. Everyone on the Astral Express nearly forgot about how close you and Pom-Pom are. The closeness between you two is adorable, and Pom-Pom treats you like his favorite passenger on the Astral Express. Well, you are his favorite passenger. There’s no denying it. Sometimes, when everyone is asleep, you would keep Pom-Pom company and spoil him with his favorite snacks.

Of course, that was before Nanook became a passenger on the Express. Now you would keep Pom-Pom company on the nights you can’t sleep or when Nanook isn’t on the Astral Express due to his duty as the Aeon of Destruction.

“Pom-Pom?” March asks softly.

Pom-Pom turns to face them, his eyes blurred with tears. “How could all of you fail to protect someone that protected me!?” Pom-Pom wails, tears cascading down his cheeks. “What if we never see them again? They could be in danger!”

Everyone looks away, their shoulders slumping. Pom-Pom’s right. They did fail to protect you— this is the second time they failed to protect you, and they wish they could turn back time and prevent it from happening.

“There’s nothing to worry about. We’ll find [Y/N] and bring [Y/N] back to the Astral Express, alright?” Luka says, kneeling in front of Pom-Pom and patting the conductor’s head.

Pom-Pom whimpers. “But what if they’re injured?” Pom-Pom whispers.

“Then I will do everything in my power to heal them,” Luocha answers.

You’re rudely awoken by the sharp pain in your lower abdomen. You gasp and sit up, letting out a strained gasp and whimper. You look down at your body, now realizing the state you’re in. You don’t remember what exactly happened, but the more you look at your surroundings, the more you start piecing things together. You were attacked by the Mara-struck. It happened so fast that you weren’t able to comprehend what happened before it was too late.

And now you’re here, on Cloudford, bleeding out, going in and out of consciousness, with no cell signal to call or text your traveling companions. You can’t even contact Nanook due to the severed connection between you and the Aeon of Destruction. No matter how many times you lose consciousness, Nanook isn’t there— even if you scream his name, bloody murder. You will always be in the void, alone and searching for the Aeon that brought you into his universe.

You sprawl out on the ground, digging your phone from your pockets. Your vision blurs every few minutes, making it hard for you to do your task. You turn your phone on, attempting to call the first person on your contact list. Blade.

You tried to call Blade, but the call didn’t go through. You tried calling every person on your contact list, but the call continues not to go through. You push yourself off the ground, nearly slipping on the pool of blood beneath you. It’s a miracle that you manage to hold on for so long. The question is: how much longer can you hold on? Black dots dotting your vision, you’re extremely tired, your eyelids are threatening to close, and your legs and arms are tingling.

“I can do this, I can do this,” you chanted, limping as far away as you can. “I’ll be okay. I’ll be okay.”

You’re not sure if giving yourself a false sense of hope is going to do any better. Still, it’s better to do that than lay in your puddle of blood, watching the time tick away and your life slipping from your fingers. With each step you take, you feel your strength slipping away. You’re exhausted, and everything hurts. The Mara-struck did not go easy on you until they assumed you were dead.

As much as you wanted to blame yourself for not being careful enough, there’s no one else to blame. Not even yourself. People will blame you for not being careful and watching your surroundings, but is it really your fault? The Mara-struck are ruthless, and they’ll attack anyone and anything that is alive and not Mara-struck like them.

You’re brought out of your thoughts and self-pity when your foot gets caught over the other, sending you to the ground with a loud thump. You let out a screech of pain and remain on the ground as every part of your body is stinging and throbbing with pain. The small cuts on your body reopen as fresh blood oozes from the wounds, spilling to the ground.

“Please, just end my misery,” you whisper, tears rolling down your bloodstained cheeks as you slowly drift in and out of consciousness.

The faint sound of buzzing coming from your phone wakes you up. You gingerly turn your head to see the screen of your phone lighting up and vibrating. You reach for your phone and roll over on your side to see Blade calling you. You swipe to the green button and hear a faint scream and frantic voices coming from the other end of the call.

“Blade?” You croak, wincing when you feel how dry your throat feels.

Blade sighs in relief on the other side of the call. “Thank the Aeons, you’re okay. Where are you? Are you safe?” Blade asks.

You chuckle bitterly, close your eyes and continue to lie on the ground. At least you’ll be able to hear their voices one last time, right? It’s better to listen to their voice before…. Someone calls your name, grabbing your attention.

“Huh? Sorry, I didn’t catch onto what you were saying,” you mumble, squeezing your eyes shut and fighting back a whimper that’s crawling up your throat.

“[Y/N], please tell us where you are. We’re very worried about you,” Dan Heng says.

You sniffle. The pain is beginning to feel unbearable. Everything hurts so much, and you want someone or something to end your pain and suffering already. You shouldn’t have played dead when the Mara-struck attacked you for who knows how long. You should’ve let them end you right then and there so you wouldn’t have to continue to suffer like how you are right now.

“[Y/N]? Are you still with us?” Caelus asks, his voice crackling through the speakers.

Fuck. Is the connection starting to act up?

“Yeah, yeah. I’m still here,” you reply, black dots dotting your vision. Is it normal to see a small burst of stars in your eyes each time you blink? “Sorry, I’m not feeling well right now.”

The other end of the call falls silent after hearing your response. As of now, Jing Yuan and Gepard haven’t received any reports from the Silvermane Guards and Cloud Knights about finding you.

The General of the Xianzhou Luofu and the Captain of the Silvermane Gaurds text their trusted companions regarding the search, only for Dunn and Yanqing to reply that they have yet to find out despite the number of Cloud Knights and Silvermane Guards scrambling to find you.

Mr. Yang walks over to Blade and takes the phone from his hands. “Sweetheart, can you look at your surroundings and tell us where you are? Even if you don’t know the precise location, do you know whether you’re on the Xianzhou Luofu or Jarilo-VI?” Mr. Yang asks.

“I’m on, uh, the Xianzhou Luofu. The Mara-struck…” you trail off, closing your eyes. Your hands are shaking— you don’t think you can hold your phone up any longer. Your arms feel awfully weak, and your phone feels heavy.

Jing Yuan’s voice crackles over the speakers. “What happened with the Mara-struck?”

Jing Yuan sounds frantic.

You shrug, completely forgetting that the others can’t see you. “They attacked me out of nowhere. They left me for dead, and there’s blood. So much blood,” you whisper, cracking your eyes open and looking at your surrounding.

“[Y/N], can you turn on the video call so we can see where you are?�� Gepard asks, his voice crackling in the speakers.

You sigh, gritting your teeth as you turn on the video call. Your face appears on the screen— if you weren’t bleeding out and losing consciousness every few minutes, you would be gasping in horror at the sight of your reflection. Dear Aeons, you look horrendous. You blindly show your surroundings for the men to see where you’re at, but you don’t think you’re doing it correctly. Your arm soon grew tired, and your arms collapsed beside you.

“I’m really sleepy, guys,” you whisper, swallowing the lump in your throat. You nearly gagged when you tasted a mouthful of blood. You don’t know how much more you can hold on until they find you.

“Does anyone recognize that area? We’re not from the Xianzhou Luofu— nothing looks familiar for us,” Sampo mutters, gazing at the others worriedly.

Luocha steps forward and takes Blade’s phone from Mr. Yang’s grasp. “I know this is going to be complicated for you, but do not fall asleep, alright? Keep your eyes open and try to stop the bleeding. We’ll be right there soon,” Luocha instructs.

The men hear and see nothing coming from Blade’s phone. The camera is pointed to the sky of the Xianzhou Luofu— they see the color of your hair peeking in the corner. You rub your eyes and press your hands against the deep gash on your abdomen. You lift your head to see various cuts on your body. All are bleeding.

You whisper, “Which ones do I cover? There’s too many,” you mumble, gazing at the gashes with bleary eyes.

You let your head fall back on the ground, attempting to cover up as many as you can. How much longer are you going to hold on? You can hear a commotion coming through Blade’s phone as you lie on the ground, your phone lying beside your head. You didn’t think you could die in a universe you didn’t belong to.

“Stay on the phone with us, alright? We’ll be there soon, we promise,” you hear Blade say through the phone.

You can’t tell if Blade is panicking or not. He sounds so far away, no matter how close your phone is to your ears. How could this have happened anyway? It was all your fault, wasn’t it? Were you reckless like last time? No, no. Last time, the Astral Express was under attack. But this time, you left the Astral Express and ended up getting attacked by the Mara-struck. And now look at you, bleeding out on the Xianzhou Luofu while trying to stay conscious.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?” You whisper, staring at the clear blue sky above you.

Luka grunts. “We’re not mad at you, [Y/N]. We’re very worried about you,” Luka replies.

Luka is trying his best to remain calm, but his heart is racing against his chest to the point he fears it might burst.

You close your eyes, feeling nausea hitting you. “Is Nanook mad at me?” you ask weakly.

Dan Heng looks at Nanook from the corner of his eyes as they run through Cloudford, searching for you. It’s just them racing against the clock to get to where you are— racing against the clock to save you. But will they make it on time before you lose consciousness?

Dan Heng shakes his head. “I’m sure he’s not mad at you, [Y/N]. Why do you think that?”

You crack a smile. “I… Nanook and I aren’t connected with each other anymore. Did I do something wrong for him to sever that tie between us?” You whisper, tears blurring your vision. “If I did something to upset him, please let him know that I’m sorry for whatever it is that I have done to upset him.”

Nanook snatches the phone and gazes into the camera, his gold eyes searching for your face. “I’m not mad at you, little one. However, if you lose consciousness, I will be upset with you,” Nanook states.

You laugh weakly, tears rolling down the side of your face. “I’m sorry, everyone. I’m sorry for not being strong enough,” you whisper.

Just when you lose consciousness, you feel someone cradle you in their arms. Your vision slowly turns black as the voices around you fade away— almost sounding like you’re underwater, sinking deeper into the depths.

“No, no, no, no! Please don’t leave me,” Nanook whispers, pressing you against his chest.

Your head lolls back, laying limp in his arms as blood continues to pour out of your wounds. Luocha kneels before you and Nanook, frantically trying to heal the cuts and deep gashes on your body. Sampo, March, and Himeko look nauseous at the sight of the pool of blood below you and Nanook.

March looked away, closing her eyes as a stray tear made its way down her cheeks. “Please tell me [Y/N]’s going to be okay, please,” March pleads.

Nanook presses his index and middle finger against the side of your neck, frantically searching for a pulse. Nanook buries his face into your neck, his body wracking with sobs as he holds onto you tighter. You can’t be gone. Please, please, please, please. Luocha’s hands fall to his side, and he looks away.

“Well?” Dan Heng demands, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

Luocha shakes his head, tears rolling down his flushed cheeks. Luocha grabs your cold hand and presses a kiss on your knuckles. Maybe in another lifetime, you will meet them again. But for now, stars don’t live on forever.

Note: Just because this is angst with death doesn't mean it impacts the overall HSR isekai series. This is a mini-fic, and to make it up to all of you, I will make a Nanook smut for this upcoming week! Yes, smut is finally here! Nanook got the majority of votes. Therefore Nanook is the first HSR male character to be getting smut! As I have stated in my Genshin Isekai fics, the fics in the series are like my multi-verse. Anything can happen in these fics, but it will not significantly impact the overall series. So, even if something traumatic happened to the reader in one fic, the next fic, it never happened to the reader. Some things will impact the story, but others won't be mentioned in other fics. For those who want to be on the taglist, here is the [Google Form]. For those who want to join the Discord server but weren't able to, here is the new temporary link to [Zhongli's Abode]! Please make sure to read the server rules— you can lurk, chat and hang out on the server if you'd like! If you don't vibe with the server, you can leave whenever you want ^^ To my new and/or returning readers, please keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist for the HSR one-shot series: @mompt2, @elegantnightblaze, @lunavixia, @jadedist, @reversearrowhead, @pinksaiyans, @aurelia-xyt, @lilliansstuff, @ssunset0, @starrry-angel, @kaoyamamegami, @kodzuvk, @for3very0urs, @a-cosmicdawn, @g3n0dtt, @theblades, @raaawwwr, @immahuman, @irisxiel, @siaracarroll, @crazydreamcat, @sagekun, @orichalcumthief, @dyingsweetmackerel, @rosiesareblue, @ichikanu, @hispasian-otaku, @asoulsreverie (Accounts that I was unable to tag are not tagged in this fic. Those who do not want to be tagged in a specific fic are not tagged. Remember to check your settings to see if you're allowing people to mention you/tag you in posts or not)

Read more of my works on my Masterlist / Masterlist 2 | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories on there too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

#Honkai Star Rail x reader #Honkai Star Rail imagine #Honkai Star rail fanfiction #Honkai Star Rail fanfic #HSR x reader #HSR imagine #HSR fanfiction #HSR fanfic #Dan Heng x reader #Gepard Landau x reader #Sampo Koski x reader #Welt Yang x reader #Blade x reader #Jing Yuan x reader #Luocha x reader #Caelus x reader #Nanook x reader #Luka x reader #genshinluvr

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