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velvetures · 9 months

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Got Me Snoring

A/N: One of my favorite things inspired by all the Ghost/König cosplayer TikToks using that one, song audio. Summary: Ghost admits getting head is boring. Reader isn't happy with that idea and goes about changing his mind. T/W: NS/FW 18+ Only, blowjobs, deepthroating, size kink if you squint, spit?, cursing, aggressive tension?, taunting, not proofread, and it's been a long ass time since I've written full-on smut.

“All I’m sayin’ is that if she calls again, I’m not about to answer.” Soap’s voice carried from the living space of the hotel room to the kitchenette where you stood microwaving some rice from a convenience store down the street.

After-mission talk always leads to the most strange conversations. Maybe the adrenaline or the high of getting almost killed got everyone in a talking mood. However as the Captain slid behind you to go grab more ice outside in the hallway, you couldn’t help but shoot him a questioning look. They’d been talking about their previous accomplishments and failures in the bedroom for nearly twenty minutes, and thankfully they’d not roped you into the ridiculous conversation but with the Captain leaving out of the room, it drew their eyesight right to you standing patiently for your instant rice to finish cooking.

“What about you, huh?” Gaz was the one to poke a little. “Have any horror stories from the bedroom?” His eyebrows raised in mischievous curiosity as all three men sat staring at you with great intent.

“I’ve faked it plenty of times.” You reply offhandedly, waving a hand at them and going back to staring at the small plastic cup rotating around in the microwave.

You overheard the men pass through the moment of silence with low laughs, most noticeably, Ghost. Who’d apparently found something very funny and decided to grace everyone with the sound of deep and resounding chuckles. With a gloved hand, you take out your food and rejoin them in the room, finding a spot on the corner of one of the beds and crossing your legs to hold the bowl while you watch and listen to more of their recounted stories.

Soap complained more about the one night he’d met up with one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met, and drank himself into oblivion to try and ease his nerves. The only problem was, that when he finally had enough liquid courage to make a move, he couldn’t get it up. Even watching him recount the tale now, you could see his embarrassment. You couldn’t imagine just how beautiful that woman had to be for Soap to give himself whiskey-dick so bad that to this day he regretted the memory and undoubtedly wished he could take it back. Gaz got pressured into retelling the story of the woman he met in Russia just for you since you’d never heard it; Detailing just how she’d been absolutely obsessed with him right from the get-go.

She couldn’t stop fawning over his accent and just how downright good-looking he was. Gaz on the other hand felt very embarrassed and never really tried to take things further on that trip. Fortunately for him, on a trip back a few months later for pleasure, he ran into the woman again and this time around she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Soap and Ghost laughed, poking fun at how utterly exhausted Garrick was when he met up with them in London. His shit-eating grin was more than enough for them to surmise that his little Russian vixen had taken him for a hell of a ride.

Then there was Ghost.

He didn’t have much to say in the way of his own successes, but did share one or two small comparisons with the other two as they kept pulling out detail after detail about the many people they’d met over the years and how they either felt they’d left their mark… or totally fucking missed it. All of it came to a very interesting topic that you suddenly became very interested in when Ghost uttered one single statement that left your mouth hanging open and staring at him almost in disbelief.

“I don’t like someone blowin’ my cock,” his voice sounded flat. Totally unbothered and nearly sleeping at the idea. “Never cared much for it when half doesn’t fit.”

You couldn’t help but insert yourself into the conversation after a long hour or so of sitting like a viewer at a movie. “Wait a second… You mean to tell me you don’t like getting head because you're too big?” The gasp in your tone was obvious, and even Soap and Gaz looked at him a little strangely as if they didn’t truly believe the idea either. It gave you a bit more reassurance in your belief that almost all men enjoyed it. Sure, there was the odd chance that Ghost just didn’t like it at all, but you really wanted to hear his explanation if he’d give you one.

The Lieutenant turned to look at you and nodded stiffly. “Yeah, ‘bout always puts me to sleep.”

It was at this point you felt the slightest urge to tell him he’d never had someone give him a legitimately good blowjob before. But before you could even say something to the contrary, a thought crossed your mind. Ghost didn’t seem like the kind of man who attracted ill-experienced women. Especially when he had already proven throughout the evening that his previous encounters were much more interesting and expansive than even that of yourself. Something a bit… jealous rose inside of you at the thought.

Imagining your Lieutenant laying on his back and hardly making any sort of sound while someone pulls out every single trick in their arsenal to make a blowjob somewhat entertaining or arousing. You didn’t necessarily profess yourself to have a crush on Ghost, due to just how grey the line between operators and anything felt when you spent so much time together under high-stress environments. There was bound to be some level of emotional attachment that devolved past… professional. And for whatever it was, knowing that Ghost had such a bad opinion on the receiving end of pleasure became a challenge you wanted to overcome.

About that time, Price returned with half-melted ice and a half-smoked cigar hanging between his lips.

“Finished talking about chasin’ tail yet?” He grumbled, walking past the group of you still sitting around each other like a bunch of kids getting caught staying up late by Dad at a sleepover. “Wanna go to fuckin’ sleep.”

He dropped the ice bucket down on the dresser with a little thud before settling himself down on the pull-out couch with his hat covering his eyes and both arms resting behind his head with that cigar still puffing smoke rings into the air. Ghost was the first to stand up, making his way out of the hotel room without as much as a comment about when he’d be back or where he was going. Your eyes trailed over his shoulders tapering into a slim waist before giving way again to thick and muscular thighs enhanced by all of gear still strapped to his body. His kit did leave a lot to the imagination. And god did your mind start to wander as both Soap and Gaz began winding down, settling themselves down to sleep for the night or at least lay somewhere quietly so the Captain didn’t lose any more of his patience and kick someone out or force them to pay for their own room. Not nearly tired enough with all of the questions and thoughts about Ghost now floating through your mind, you didn’t care the least bit about laying down or pretending not to care about the fact of the matter and headed out of the hotel room after the Lieutenant as Soap turned out the final lamp in the corner of the room.

The air was a bit cold outside without your jacket, breath materializing in front of you in light wisps of fog with every exhale as you looked down both ends of the hallway hoping to see some sign of where Ghost might’ve gone to. Down on the far left side, a larger cloud of smoke blew past the breezeway entrance and you knew right away that Ghost would be at the end of it. And when your eyes peeked around the corner, you weren’t the least bit surprised to see him with a shoulder resting up against the wall; his back to you with enough of his mask pulled up so that he could smoke a cigarette. The sweet vanilla and cherry smell hit you like a wall, reminding you that Ghost preferred rolling his own cigarettes and used pipe tobacco instead of buying packs of anything else.

Leaves no trace behind… He’d explained without prompting one night after noticing that you’d been watching him.

“Followin’ me now?” His voice heavy with smoke and unhindered by his mask landed directly on you, not even needing to turn around to know you were the one tailing after him.

“Couldn’t let you freeze to death alone.” You reply with a little smile, taking it as your chance to go ahead and walk -slowly- over to him giving him the privacy to smoke without needing to fuss with keeping his face covered.

By standing just at his back leaning against the wall, he knew right where you were, and it put the weight of conversation on him for the moment. He gave you a gruff sort of sound and took another drag off his cigarette before turning just far enough to offer it to you. You take it from his gloved fingers carefully, licking your lips a little in slight nervousness. This wasn’t the first time he’d offered you a hit, but it was the first time you’d ever actually taken him up on it. Seeing the damp rolling paper on the end made you shiver a little; Hopefully, the cold weather would be a good enough excuse to keep him from recognizing your sudden anxiety around him. Wrapping your lips around it and inhaling, you’re a little more than guilty for noticing the taste of Ghost instead of the vanilla and cherry. With a quick glance to your side, you saw his mask was pulled back down over his mouth and his dark eyes were focused right on you as you blew the smoke out of your mouth and back in through your nose. Attempting to hand it back, he just shakes his head.

“You didn’t come out here to be cold,” He finally broke the silence. “What’d you really want from me?”

No matter how long you spent around Ghost, you never got used to just how miserably direct Ghost could be. Like nothing was truly surprising to him or worth being the least bit delicate over. Even if it concerned someone -like yourself- at least attempting to be a little more discretionary. Yet you sighed and took another drag before tossing the rest of it down on the concrete, putting out the ember with the toe of your boot.

“Were you lying earlier?” Your question falls a little short of confident, giving Ghost the impression right away that you were nervous. For a split second, you thought you saw the phantom of a smile under the cover of his mask before it was quickly hidden back under late-night shadow and white paint. Ghost put his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt and gave a sigh, making more fog swirl around and through the woven material around his mouth. Another thought of what his mouth looked like flashed through your failing mind.

“Why would it matter?”

You licked at your bottom lip, trying to figure out a way to word this without sounding desperate or downright shameless in front of your commanding officer… you shouldn't be thinking about doing this in the first place. So many more bad outcomes could come of this than the one good one. Even then, it was risky. Leaving you a bit dazed and staring at Ghost.

“Asked you a question. I’m expectin’ an answer.” He pressed forward, a slight swagger in his hips as he got closer to you, resting a hand on the wall and tilting his head a little to the side. Damn near mocking you for being so much smaller and easily intimidated. You look down at your boots for a moment, deciding to just put your money where your mouth is and take the hit no matter the outcome.

“If you weren’t lying…” You look up, internally screaming at how heavy his eyes look down on you. “I’d like to try and change your mind.”

A deep chuckle comes from the Lieutenant in response followed by his heavy hand resting on your shoulder, almost totally engulfing it.

“You’re jokin’,” His voice lowered with humor that made you almost shrivel up and die inside. “Why would I let you do that?” You give a frustrated sigh and take a step back away from Ghost. Mentally and physically distancing yourself from the slight Ghost had given you by accident or otherwise.

“Never mind.” You give a short nod and turn on your heel to head back to the hotel room and find somewhere to curl up on the floor or in a bed with someone and try to sleep off your damaged ego.

Yet five steps away from Ghost, you’re stopped short with his arm snaked around your waist tightly and his mouth resting against your ear with a heavy and hot breath fanning against your neck. His palm spreads over your stomach and squeezes almost aggressively at the soft flesh under your shirt. Tall and wide, Ghost yanks your back flush to his chest as a silent threat.

“Don’t fuckin’ walk away from me,” His low growl makes you shiver. “I’m not finished with ya.”

In an instant, you’re spun around and hauled aggressively with your back against the nearest wall with Ghost’s chest holding you from fighting back. His legs limit your ability to try and escape out from under his arms, and while one hand is flat against your chest, the other restricts both your wrists above your head. Breath evacuates your lungs with the sudden shock of your back against the wall, but your eyes are locked on Ghost’s as he glares at you harshly through the wavering mist of his breath in the cold air.

“Now I’ve got you pacified…” His smirk was clear in tone, outright mocking you by pressing those massive thighs tighter against yours. “Let’s continue shall we?” The gloved hand pressed against your heaving chest slides up to grasp firmly at your chin and jerk it up to look him in the eyes.

“Why don’t you be a good little thing and tell me why you think you could change my mind, and maybe… I won’t punish you for talkin’ shit to your superior officer.” He spat loudly, his face less than an inch from yours, eyes flaming with aggression.

“Sorry Lieutenant…” You mutter stiffly through the struggle of his hand against your jaw. “Thought I could do better.” You add a lot weaker, averting your eyes as far from Ghost as you can.

“What was that?” He made dark fun of you, terribly obvious, and downright happy with himself. “Say it again.”

You squirm in his grasp, only to get your wrists slid up higher on the wall and a thigh shoved between your own to lift your feet almost totally off the ground. Toes tapping the ground, Ghost holds you totally of his own power without the slightest effort needed to keep you held right where he wanted you to be.

“Thought I could do better.” You repeat yourself louder, and more clearly, feeling utterly stupid for enduring such pathetic treatment. Only you knew it was your fault for letting such a pipe dream of an idea come to reality by prodding Ghost about his sex life so confidently. The masked man hummed lowly, tilting his head as he inspected your face lighted only by a small sliver of moonlight creeping around the corner of the hallway.

“Better, huh?” Ghost chuckles darkly, this thumb tracing over the bottom curve of your lip carefully. “That’s a lot of confidence for someone so small.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Size has nothing to do with it.”

Ghost barks laughter, grumbling something under his breath before dropping his hand away from your jaw and releasing one of your hands to press against his groin. You can’t miss his meaning from the massive erection pressing back against your hand and twitching impatiently when your Lieutenant squeezes your hand around it tighter. A growl escapes his throat and he looks up at you with almost evil eyes.

“Still think size doesn’t matter, little one?” He questions, one eyebrow raising above the hemline of his mask.

Your mouth falls open in shock. Not only because of the sheer girth of Ghost’s cock pulsing in your hand but realizing that he was actually taking your proposal seriously no matter how aggressive his mockery of you was. It shouldn’t have been so damn surprising when taking into account just how large of a man Ghost is. Surely everything would be proportionate, and his erection was proof of it.

Your face is enough to make Ghost chuckle. “That’s what I thought…”

It’s enough of a dismissal that thaws your speechlessness and throws you right back into the present with enough of the guts to speak up for your own desires.

“I can do it,” You blurt breathlessly, fingers tracing along the curve of Ghost’s dick and earning a lusty growl from him. “I can make it good. I’ll make it fit.” You nod your head feverishly in an attempt to keep your chance open. Ghost’s eyes widen at your desperation and his cock twitches hard in your palm with the sound of your shallow breaths and pleading eyes.

“You want it, huh?” He questions, mask moving like he’s grinning under it.

“Then get on your fuckin’ knees.”

The moment his hands release you, you feel yourself sliding down the wall until your knees make a bruising thud against the concrete floor in front of Ghost. Your hands holding on his thighs without the slightest care that you were standing in the middle of a hotel breezeway where anyone could see you. A weight settled in your lower stomach with the idea of anyone coming out of their room and witnessing such a sight.

“My belt.” Ghost instructs a bit pinched, looking down at you with his chin almost touching his chest.

You’re frantic yet shaking as your hands slide up his thighs and begin pulling his belt loose, hearing that metallic clink as you pull the two sides apart with a watering mouth. No instruction is necessary for you to know where to go next, and as you unbutton his cargo pants, your free hand palms his cock as you pull down just enough of his waistband to expose him but not make him cold. Ghost’s hands help just a little, settling extra material where he prefers it, almost patiently holding up his own hoodie and t-shirt out of your way as you slid your hands under his boxers.

“Fuck…” Ghost mutters quietly, tensing when your fingers wrap around his base and free him from his underwear.

Your thumb smears over his swollen head soft enough to not make him jerk away with sensitivity, and you lick your lips at just how wet his cock already is from sheer anticipation. Hell, you were turned on too, practically dripping in your underwear at the sight of Ghost with nothing but a perfect dick exposed and ready for your mouth. The first lick is a teasing one. Flattening it over his head just because you couldn’t wait to taste him, gathering up his arousal, and making it a point to swallow with your eyes locked right on Ghost’s. You're certain it’s enough to affect him just by the way he grunts and rests both of his hands against the wall behind you to steady himself.

When your lips wrap around his tip and slide down towards his base slowly, you hollow your lips and suck hard. Almost mimicking drinking through a straw with both hands wrapped around his thick base to restrict blood flow, adding to his sensitivity. You feel his feet flex in his boots next to your thighs and another low grunt. It spurs you forward, sinking down further and massaging your tongue on the underside before raising back up to lick at his frenulum and repeating the process with quiet whines each time he’s unable to hold back some sound.

“Shit-” He hisses after no more than a couple of minutes, jerking his hips back away from you and moving your hands out of the way so he could tighten his own fist around his cock with a heaving chest.

He stays like that for a few moments, undoubtedly trying to stave off the pleasure you’d been giving before his eyes meet yours again and they’re downright hungry and raging with fury that you’d brought him so close without any extra fancy moves or those fake moans that porn always showed. With one quick movement, he stepped closer and tilted your head back until it gently rested against the wall behind you, his cock smearing your own spit and his arousal over your open and awaiting mouth.

“You look pretty like this…” He muttered, rubbing his length over your face and tapping it teasingly against your mouth. “You hungry for more?” You’re sticking out your tongue and nodding right away, earning you a tense chuckle and the feeling of Ghost’s dick sliding into your mouth while his hand cushions the back of your head from the wall.

“Let me feed it to ya,” He grunts. “Shove my fat cock in your mouth and fuck your throat..” He adds with a feral sort of sound mixing with an ever-thickening accent.

You moan around his length, feeling your jaw muscles begin to start aching when your nose just barely grazes his pubic bone and his tip touches the back of your throat. He’s thick enough to qualify as the largest you’ve ever experienced, but you’re not the slightest bit concerned about whether he’ll be able to fit. You know he’ll make it fit if nothing else.

And him utterly pounding your throat sounded so hot that you tried pushing further down on his shaft yourself. Eager to feel Ghost as deep in you as possible. Ghost obliges you, and rocks his hips forward slowly, easing his thick head past that ring of pressure at the back of your throat and cursing under his breath when a wet, gurgling sound vibrates around his shaft as you begin swallowing around him.

“Bloody, fuucckk yes…” His groans punch through the quiet air, far louder than he should be risking in such a public space. But he’s only getting started with this experience as your nose presses against his pubic bone, and his hand flattens against the wall.

“So tight… doggin’ me right where anyone can see.”

It’s the thought that had you so eager, and right away you felt just how much it turned Ghost on too. Because the second he said it, he pulled back just a fraction and pushed himself back down your throat, beginning tight and quick thrusts that made your eyes roll back. He kept a furious pace, growling and holding tight to the back of your head until you tapped at the back of his thigh a few times, and he pulled out with a loud grunt, giving you a moment to breathe. You panted, seeing a thick web of spit connecting your mouth and his tip before watching it break and drip down your shirt.

You’re about to tell Ghost… something. But you instantly lose thought of it when he’s bent down with his mask rucked up just far enough to smash his mouth to yours, shoving his tongue in your mouth and practically eating you from the inside out. You can still taste the salty edge of his skin, and it’s almost heady to have his mouth mingling with yours and sharing his arousal between soft moans and heavy breaths. The kiss is long and feverish, but not near long enough before he’s standing back up and stroking his fist up and down his cock right in front of you like an unreal kind of dream somehow coming to life.

“Please.” You mutter a bit hoarse from the rough treatment of your throat, totally unsure of what you really want most. Between his mouth, words, and dick there’s so much more than just one you desired, but at least one of them needed to be delivered to you to attempt satisfaction.

“Open up, little one…” Ghost whispers face re-masked already, and it makes you whine pathetically, having naively believed he’d allow you just one glimpse at the mouth you’d just tasted. “Need to have more of you.” You’re totally happy to resign by leaning your head back against the wall with your tongue wetting your lips in the cold air.

Ghost starts painfully slow, holding your head on both sides of your jaw and teasing his head against your tongue and the textured roof of your mouth; indiscernible words falling from his mouth and his eyes squeezed tightly shut. You would’ve thought it was nothing more than your Lieutenant just taking his pleasure as offered. But the way his thumbs brushed over your cheeks and his fingers would occasionally rub over the stretched muscles in your jaw gave you the feeling that he was well aware of what you were surrendering to him. As well as how thankful he was to have you on your knees, and looking so fucking angelic swallowing and spitting on his dick like a dirty little whore.

“Let me - Wanna…” His rising breaths and steady strokes begin to falter the longer he thrusts inside your mouth, meticulously avoiding forcing himself deeper in disappointment; resulting in your whining and muffled complaints and pleasure. Had his hands not been purposefully holding you back to prolong the session, Ghost probably wouldn’t have lasted this long.

“P-patience…” His stammer made your chest clench in satisfaction. “Don’t - don’t wanna finish in your mouth…”. That breathy comment nearly struck you stiff as concrete.

You couldn’t believe that after this entire ordeal, Ghost was actually trying to end a blowjob without you finishing it the way you honestly believed it should always end. With you swallowing every last fucking drop that the Lieutenant gave you; wearing a goddamn smile bigger than anyone has ever seen. If he hadn’t been lying and head never impressed him, there wasn’t a chance in Hell you were going to let him finish anywhere that wasn’t down your throat. In a split second, you were shaking your head no and pulling back off his cock with a slight gasp.

“No, finish.” It’s the most demanding and certain you’ve sounded all night. “Finish in my mouth, Ghost.”

His eyes say it all.

They’re wide with his pupils blown at impressive dimensions and his thick eyelashes flutter as his shocked expression forces him to blink over and over again to make sense of you. Mouth and chin covered in spit, on your knees, and literally begging him to come in your mouth.

“Goddamn, you’re so fucking filthy…” He mutters aloud, watching intently as you slide back down over him one more time and begin doing what you wanted to from the very beginning.

Bring Ghost to his knees.

It’s a moment before you have him cursing and holding onto the wall with both hands again as you push deeper and deeper until you're teasing the tip of your nose against him yet again. Unwilling to let him pull you off this time or prolong this. Deserving this release was the bare minimum. Not only did you want to provide him ultimate pleasure where no one else had, but you enjoyed every single bit of it. You needed this as much -if not more- than Ghost.

Heavy and twitching in your mouth, Ghost was teetering on the edge of his orgasm with stuttering hips and one hand sliding down to rest on your head. Not pushing this time, just laying at the crown like your movements were too much to feel with only one part of his body. Short pants were cut short by unintelligible words and strained attempts to say what you already knew.

As if giving your final approval of the idea Ghost had found unacceptable, you push him as deep as you could one final time; Hearing his loud shout echo down the breezeway as both of his hands grabbed harshly onto the sides of your head. Pumping stream after stream of his hot release down your throat you moaned deeply, feeling him gently rock his hips against your face as he rode down his high on shaky legs. You gagged a little as he pulled out, feeling your throat begin to burn in an unfamiliar way that had never followed you sharing a moment like this with another man. Only one look at Ghost’s cock right in front of your face was more than enough to reassure you he’d just been the one who gave you enough of a delicious stretch to feel for days to come.

Your eyes met his and a small little shy smile crossed your sore lips, contrasting the absolutely deplorable -and punishable- act you’d ever committed with a superior officer. Wordlessly Ghost tucked himself back into his underwear and neglected to button his pants back up before dropping to a knee right in front of you and pulling up his mask again to brush his lips against yours.

“Want to taste,” He whispered ever-so-softly, hands holding your head gently.

“Need to taste me inside your mouth.” He added, licking your lips before closing the distance between you for a second time. This kiss was still intense. Ghost controlling the pace and just how much dominance you had, which nearly came to zero when he licked into your mouth, groaning shamelessly. He could taste his release coating your mouth as he utterly overwhelmed you with kisses, licks, bites, and more moans that fell like honey on your ears.

You were the first to pull back for a gasp of air you’d gone full minutes without, feeling your own mouth and body beginning to feel a little weak with exhaustion not typical of a well-conditioned soldier like yourself. Your Lieutenant took note right away and rested his head against yours reassuringly, his nose touching yours.

“You’re too cold to be out here like this.” He whispered, pulling your cheek affectionately and wrapping the other arm around you. “Not gonna let you freeze after that.” He chuckled a bit sluggishly, kissing you again long and chaste.

He pulled his mask back down and gave very little effort to pick you up off your knees and into his arms without question or hesitation. Leaving you feeling like a treasured prize he’d won and refused to let out of his sight for more than a moment. Safe and protected, you couldn’t care one bit about the cold nipping through your thin clothes and resting your head against Ghost’s shoulder as he carried you back to the hotel room the 141 had already retired for the night in.

Expertly avoiding Soap and Gaz laying on couch cushions on the floor and covered with extra bedsheets, sliding around Price’s bed without bumping it, all while carrying you Ghost sat you down on the edge of the bed he’d been keen to claim as his own right when you’d arrived. You were nearly asleep just sitting there when he unlaced your boots enough to tug them off, pulled your shirt off over your head, and replaced it with one of his hoodies. Finally, he takes off your pants and nods for you to move up to the top of the bed, acting just as he would normally. But as he climbed into the bed next to you and tugged you back against him tightly, you realized you’d gotten a lot more than you bargained for.

Sure you might’ve changed Ghost’s mind about getting head… but you weren’t finished yet. Because Ghost was curling his arm around your waist and burying his masked face in between your shoulder blades like cuddling with you at night was the usual way of things. His fingers innocently traced the waistband of your underwear, and he radiated body heat that melted away the fringe sensations of cold on your body easily.

“I’ve made a decision,” He whispers very quietly so as not to wake the others. And you wiggle back a little closer to him, nodding your head as a silent acknowledgment for him to go on. Expecting him to say that you did -in fact- change his mind about getting blown.

“You’re mine now.”

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11K notes · View notes

ghost-proofbaby · 2 months

Text

when you know, you know. (e.m.)

summary: air hockey has never been so romantic.

warnings: it's alluded to that reader is wearing red lipstick. not edited.

pairing: eddie munson x reader

wc: 1.8k+

a/n: a very late valentine's day gift for you all (and eddie). also, the fact i've never written proper mechanic eddie... what a shame.

“Yes!”

If any of the nearby children flinched, you didn’t notice. You were too wrapped up in your victory, going as far as to partake in a terribly embarrassing dance on your end of the air hockey table as Eddie shakes his head slowly.

“You definitely cheated,” he deadpans, a twitch of a smile nearly giving him away as he leans down to pick the puck out of the slot below on his end, “There’s no way you’re about to beat me in under five minutes, again.”

You smile, lips painted red under the lowlights of the arcade as you lean over the table and taunt him, “Or maybe it’s just a skill issue. I wouldn’t keep beating you if you were actually a professional in air hockey like you’d claimed, Munson.”

Three dates – tonight makes four – and you still hadn’t quite worked out how you’d managed to capture the attention of the boy before you. When he’d originally asked you out to coffee, you’d swallowed down all your excessive excitement just to answer him. The local mechanic that you’d been making heart eyes at every few months when you’d go in for an oil check, the one who hadn’t allowed the others at the shop to oversell you on a damn thing when you’d get your tires rotated. Who always smiled shyly as he’d bring you back your keys.

You’d figured the coffee date would last an hour if you were lucky. The two of you would spend more than five minutes in the same room together, he’d realize how overbearing you were, and that would be the end of it. Ridiculous crush effectively squashed.

But it hadn’t.

It had lasted hours, plural. Coffees finished and second lattes nursed until they’d gone cold, the outcome had been the exact opposite of your expectations. Your conversation had flowed effortlessly, common ground and common interests found with ease, and suddenly, Eddie was more than just some cute mechanic for your friends to tease you over.

The first date had only ended due to his shift at the shop that afternoon.

The subsequent sushi dinner date, and then the movie night the next week, had also lasted hours.

“For someone who works on cars, you should be a lot better with your hands,” you poke gentle fun at him as he makes the first hit against the puck this time, far more careful than you had been when serving.

“Or maybe I’m just determined to keep letting my pretty date win.”

“And why would you ever do that?”

Another hit from your mallet, the sharp tapping of your aggressive push ringing out over the sound of nearby machines. You don’t dare to glance in the direction of the ruckus, but you’re pretty sure someone has just won an exciting amount of tickets based on the squeals of glee.

“I dunno,” Eddie pauses to shrug after he hits the puck once more, his guard dropping. You’re ruthless as you take the opportunity to shoot the puck straight into ‘goal’ on his side of the table. A straight shot, far too easy for your liking, but you still celebrate the victory with another embarrassing dance, “Maybe it’s because I’m into that ridiculous dance they keep doing whenever they score.”

You immediately stop your little jumps, eyes widening, a rush of embarrassment heating you up from the inside out as Eddie’s eyes stay glued on you. The table powers down as he makes his way around it, feet bringing him right to you.

You’d always thought Eddie would find you weird, or odd, or unappealing after that coffee date, but the outcome had been better than you could have possibly conceived.

He was an absolute weirdo as well.

Fondness overtakes his features just like it had on that coffee date when you’d accidentally snorted at one of his jokes, and your heart flutters eagerly. You can’t believe there had been a time you’d only watch him from behind glass, trying to not get caught as you would blatantly stare at him as he’d work on your car. A time when you’d only see his curls up in loose buns rather than framing his face as they were now, a time when you couldn’t even shake his hand due to it being covered in oil.

That had all only been a month ago, but you already couldn’t imagine your life without Eddie Munson in it.

“Don’t go shy on me now,” he chuckles as he stops in front of you, smirk deepening the dimples you’d only noticed on your second date with him. He’d been too bashful the first date, ducking whenever his grin would grow too wide on you, biting his tongue on half the flirtatious remarks you wished he would have said. “You won, fair and square, so what’s your prize gonna be, valentine?”

He also waited until the second date to kiss you. That had nearly killed you.

“It’s not very fair if you let me win,” you whisper, unable to look away from his eyes. They’re a soft brown, a smooth honey, a nice sight for sore eyes. You kind of like the crinkles beside them, too. Kind of wonder what it would be like to wake up beside him, roll over, and kiss them – all before the sun ever rose.

He reaches out and gingerly grabs your hand, calloused fingertips brushing your knuckles before he entangles your fingers with his. “Psh, who said I let you win? Maybe I just really suck at air hockey.”

“You just-”

You never get to finish your argument. He’s quick to swoop down, capturing your lips in his. The rudest of interruptions, and it still manages to weaken your knees.

Each kiss only grows sweeter. And more confident, more sure. The first one had been timid, exchanged on your doorstep with boyish hesitation and meek desperation. But now, several kisses experienced since that night, all apprehension has melted. He lets his lips meld to yours, captures your bottom lip just tightly enough to give it a brief tug when he pulls away. Still soft, ever so sweet, and leaving you wanting for more.

Four dates. All it took was four dates for him to make you a goner.

“Now, that wasn’t fair,” you breathe out, betrayed by the smile that you wear. Your chest feels shaken up, impending explosion of mushiness and flowers and hearts and every single cliche the love songs on the radio could squeeze out.

“It was your prize.”

“I never said I wanted a kiss for my prize.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he puts a dramatic hand up to his chest, leaning back so dramatically that your hand instinctively reaches out to loop a finger in his jean pocket to keep him upright, “Would you like me to take it back, my fair maiden?”

Four dates, and he makes it impossible to not imagine a future of this. Of silly banter, of gentle mornings spent kissing away crows feet, of cutting one another off with the most infuriating of methods. You’re starting to believe you’re just a hopeless romantic, and he’d spotted that from a mile away – he knew every single button to press to have you putty in his hands, and he was taking full advantage of it.

You giggle, an honest to God giggle, as you say, “Hm, I’m not sure. I heard the return policies on those are a bit wonky.”

If your friends thought you were insufferable when he was some stranger you just had a crush on, they would be vomiting at the sight of this.

He leans into your space, close enough to smell his faint cologne and mint on his breath, “Are they? Well, lucky for you, I’m friends with the shop owner. Can definitely accept the return without a receipt. It won’t be a problem, ma’am. I swear it.”

He’s weird. He’s goofier than you could have imagined, snarkier than you could have dreamed, and more romantic than you had yet to uncover. He’s kind of perfect, but you wouldn’t dare say that to his face. Not yet, at least.

You’re glad you had said yes when he’d asked days prior for you to be his Valentine. And you’re glad he hadn’t gone the boring route, showing up with just chocolates and flowers and calling it a day, but had instead dragged you out to this arcade for a night of adventures as he claimed.

“And how would one go about returning a kiss, kind sir?”

He answers wordlessly, bringing up a finger to tap on his lips. He goes as far as pouting them dramatically.

He wants you to kiss him.

Lucky for him, you want to kiss him, too.

Your kiss is more chaste. Teasing as you lift up onto your tippy toes and only press your lips to his for a brief second before falling back. You leave him wanting more – it’s written all over his face, along with a blush that races right over the bridge of his nose.

He’s cute. He’s cute, and he’s weird, and you really fucking like him.

“Now that that’s over with,” you have to change the topic, move right along before your heart truly bursts from your chest, “I know what I want my prize to be.”

He takes a moment to recover, pupils almost resembling hearts as he stares down at you. Eventually he pulls himself from your trance, shaking his head as he asks, “And what would that be?”

You’re the one taking his hand this time. If he gave you the time, you’d like to learn each callous and scar by heart. Trace over them in the middle of night, when it’s just you and him in the darkness beneath your sheets. Memorize the way they feel as he explores every curvature of your body and figure out which of the roughest patches would brush against your most sensitive bits in a way that would make you arch your back right into him.

The two of you haven’t even discussed if that’s where the night might lead, but you’re sort of hoping the luck in the air doesn’t run out.

“There’s an awfully pretty ring in the case up at the ticket counter,” you muse, knowing damn well the ring was the ugliest thing either of you had ever seen in your lives, “Think you’ve got the tickets to spare?”

His hand gives you a squeeze. Something not too tight, something perfectly comfortable. It’s only the fourth date, it’s only the first month – it’s only the beginning.

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” he says, more earnestly than you’d expected, as he steals another kiss.

You let him. You have this aching feeling in your chest that you’ll probably let him steal an endless amount from you for the rest of your life.

When you know, you know. Or whatever the poets say.

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wileys-russo · 4 months

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hello love, ive been reading your writing recently and i love how you write the players personalities exactly as i imagine them to be!!

ive had an idea that i think you would write perfectly, of alessia adopting a puppy, but as lessi is so clumsy and forgetful, she accidentally leaves out a big bag of crisps and her ‘demon puppy’ as she would call it, eats the whole bag

lessi freaks out and takes it to the nearest vet (aka us) before training and is basically being being a flustered and blushing mess, when she gets to training people pick up on her still tinted cheeks and manage to trick her into gushing about the ‘cute vet’ she met that morning

it could end with lessi returning to awkwardly asking us on a date

thankyou love 🤍

four legged wingwoman II a.russo

"-no you cannot come over for dinner again!" alessia rolled her eyes, pacing around her room with her phone squished in between her shoulder and her ear. "and why not!" vic gasped in offence on the other end of the line.

"because if its not you its one of the other girls. i've had a rotating door of dinner guests almost every single night since i got willow and i want time with my puppy alone!" alessia laughed, her team mates adoring her ten week old puppy just as much as she did, which was making it difficult for her to get any one on one time with her.

"because she is so cute and most of us do not have dogs lessi, you are being selfish!" vic whined, but the blonde held firm in her decision just as she had when lia and leah had tried to invite themselves over tonight too.

"i will literally see you in an hour pavlova, goodbye!" alessia rolled her eyes at the girs insistent begging and ended the call, tossing her phone onto the bed. "now where the hell did i put it?" the striker frowned, hunting around for her spare training top with the other one in the wash.

as adorable as willow was she was the furthest thing from well behaved and was right in the peak of her naughty puppy phase.

if she wasn't chewing things up she was running around with them in her mouth and dropping them all over the house, meaning alessia could barely keep track of anything and as soon as she'd put it down it was being moved.

but the ten week old chocolate lab had the most alluring eyes she'd ever seen so of course alessia could never stay mad at willow as infuriatingly cheeky as she was.

speaking of it was suspiciously quiet as alessia dropped to her knees and sighed in relief finally tugging her training top out from under the bed, huffing at the small teeth holes in the hem of the collar.

"willow!" the blonde called out, frowning when she didn't hear the usual scattering of her nails against the floorboards as she'd bound over. "willow?" alessia called again, quickly changing into her shirt and grabbing her training bag off the bed.

"willow baby where are-" her eyes widened as she hurried into the living room. "oh no no no no!" alessia groaned, grabbing the puppy and tugging her head out of the xl bag of salt and vinegar crisps.

"shit you ate some of the bag too? willow!" alessia gasped realizing there was large bites from the foil as panic set in. "okay um, the vet! we'll go to the vets." alessia spoke to herself, hurrying about like a tornado grabbing what she needed.

"ah willow don't eat that!" alessia huffed, tugging her keychain out of the labs mouth and locking the door up behind them, clipping willow in safely in the passenger seat.

near certain she was breaking more than one road rule alessia sped to the closest vet clinic in record time, sending a hurried half legible voice message to lotte that she would be late to training and why.

grabbing willow out of the car alessia made a beeline inside, wincing as it begun to rain and she did her best to shield the small shivering dog inside her shirt.

finally inside alessia let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in seeing the clinic was almost empty. "can i help you love?" a kind looking middle aged woman asked from the front desk.

"er my puppy ate a full bag of salt and vinegar crisps and most of the bag itself." alessia admitted with flushed cheeks, the receptionist nodding and making a note. "have you been here before?" the blonde shook her head and placed willow down on the floor, tight grip on her leash as the woman handed her a clipboard instructing her to fill it out.

"come on then miss trouble." alessia mumbled, moving to a free seat and maintaining her tight cold on willows leash so she couldn't wander very far. scribbling down her details her eyes would glance to the dog every few moments who didn't seem to be feeling any discomfort.

handing the clipboard back the woman added alessia and willow into the clinic system and gestured for them to sit down, informing there was only one vet in today but it shouldn't be too long a wait.

"oh god willow no!" alessia whispered with wide eyes as the puppy relieved itself right in the middle of the waiting room. "if you've brought her here for bladder control issues im afraid thats just going to need some toilet training." alessias head whipped up at the new voice.

"this must be willow then?" you smiled with amusement, grabbing a roll of paper towel from behind the desk and dropping to your knees. "no please i can do it!" alessia hurried to take it from you though a little too eagerly as she smacked her head into the vets, both of you wincing in pain.

"oh god i am so sorry." alessia apologized with wide eyes, and if her face wasn't red with embarrassment before it must have been the colour of a tomato now.

"its alright, normally its the animals who take a chunk out of me sometimes but i guess its not bad i have a little more contact with humans." you joked, standing up and offering her a hand which she graciously accepted.

"marley do you mind?" you gestured toward the remains of urine on the floor toward the receptionist who nodded, sending alessia a reassuring smile as the girl apologised over and over, dismissing her with a wave.

following after you alessia lifted willow up onto the table as you closed the door behind the pair of you, the blonde seemingly still a little shocked at how young you seemed, you couldn't have been too dissimilar in age to her if she was to go off looks.

"so what brings you here to visit me today willow?" you smiled softly, offering the puppy a treat which she happily accepted. "um well i sort of left a bag of salt and vinegar crisps out and she got into it and ate all of them as well as most of the actual bag." alessia again winced in embarrassment.

"chewer then? they grow out of it." you laughed, scratching behind willows ears and sending alessia a smile which had her stomach flipping. "you have a dog?" alessia asked, wincing yet again at how awkward she sounded.

"i do, and she was once just like miss willow here eating everything and anything she could get her little paws on." you chuckled at the memory, moving to put on a pair of gloves. "has she seemed out of sorts since she ate it? any strange behavior or unusual bowel movements?" you questioned, gently opening willows mouth and inspecting inside as best you could.

"not really? i drove her straight here as soon as i realised." alessia rubbed the back of her neck as you hummed, whistling to gain the puppys attention and quickly checking her pupils with a small torch.

"she seems happy and healthy. did you have somewhere to be?" you asked, nodding to alessia's training kit. "oh just training but i let my team and coach know i'd be late." the striker assured as you rewarded willow with another treat.

"i'd like to keep her here for a few hours in the kennel for observation if thats alright? you're welcome to stay or if you need to go to training i promise you she'll be well looked after. if she's going to pass it or if anything seems a little out of sorts we'll know by midday." you smiled toward the girl who nodded.

"you gave your number when you filled in the patient paperwork right? if anything at all goes wrong or seems remotely off with her we'll call you right away." you assured sensing her hesitation, knowing too well how much owners cared for their pets.

"you should go, really! you'd just be sitting around here twiddling your thumbs. thursdays don't tend to be very busy which is why i'm the only one here, but we have an intern who stays in the kennels to monitor and hang out with the animals so she'll be under constant supervision and i'll check in on her regularly." you continued, willow barking a few times as alessias eyes hovered over here and she gave a nod.

"okay, i trust you."

"-she ate the bag too!?" leah asked with wide eyes, tapping the ball back to alessia who nodded with a sigh. "you gotta get her into puppy school less." the blonde grinned with a shake of her head.

"i know i know, the vet told me the same thing. they actually offer obedience classes there so she said she'd talk me through it when i pick willow up later." alessia shrugged, her phone tucked securely into her pants despite the normal rules, jonas making an exception given the circumstances.

the staff calling it for the morning everyone made their way to over to the coolers, chugging down water and cooling off before they were expected in the gym.

"which vet did you take her to?" steph asked curiously as alessia finished recounting her morning adventures to a few more of the girls. "just the clinic closest to me, green road practice?" alessia tried to remember the name.

"oh! yeah we took calvin there for his vaccinations when he was a puppy and for obedience school, they're really good there." steph nodded which helped melt some of the nerves the striker was feeling about it all.

"i just feel so stupid! imagine if it was like a block of chocolate or something she got into?" alessia groaned as they all started to head inside. "hey its like being a parent lessi, you learn on the job and the best way to learn is mistakes!" beth slung an arm around her waist and squeezed her tightly.

"yeah but-" "no buts! she's okay right? and she's in good hands at the vets yeah?"

"yeah i guess its the best place for her. the vet was actually quite young? well i assume so anyway, not that i asked. but she knew so much? to be fully qualified, again assuming she's round my age, and to know so much is really impressive. plus she was the only vet working so she has to know her stuff!" alessia was so caught up in her rambling she missed the amused knowing smiles exchanged between her teammates.

"so was she cute?" kyra grinned catching alessia off guard. "well she wasn't ugly."

"very nice less, make sure to say exactly that when you ask her out!" leah clapped her on the back with a smirk making the blondes eyes widen. "ask her out! what?"

"yeah? you've been going on and on and on about her all morning. you clearly think she's hot so tell her that." kyra shrugged in explanation as alessia scoffed and stuttered out she didn't. "stop it! leave her be." steph warned the younger australian, arm landing on alessia's shoulder.

"she can ask her out anyway she wants to." "steph!"

alessia shook her head with a frown, head swamped with the teasing words of her teammates that she'd endured all day.

trying her best to brush them off she exited the car, locking it after her and hurrying inside grateful that the rain had subsided and she would no longer look like a disheveled drowned rat.

"alessia, welcome back." marley the receptionist smiled kindly, waving for her to take a seat advising you were just with another patient and would be with her shortly.

the striker busied herself with the team groupchat which seemed to be going off nonstop as the girls argued over room arrangements for the upcoming away game.

"-and i'll see the pair of you in two months for the next round of injections." her head snapped up at your voice as you waved off an older woman and her cat, meeting her eyes with a smile.

"welcome back. how was training?" you asked, genuinely seeming interested in her answer as you hummed to show you were listening. "well i'm glad you didn't break your foot, i'm only licensed to treat animals injuries." you teased as alessia finished recounting the story of kyra dropping a dumbbell and missing her foot by about a millimeter.

"oh don't worry i basically have a tab going at the local hospital, i'm cursed to be dreadfully clumsy, always have been." alessia joked back as you lead her out back toward the kennels. "maybe we should be training willow as a service dog then." you grinned over your shoulder, shouldering open the door and waving for her to step inside.

"so she passed the bag around an hour after you left, but besides that her behavior has been completely normal and i can't see any red flags popping up. she's free to go!" you smiled, unlocking the crate where willow was as within seconds she'd sprinted out toward alessia who squatted down.

"hi baby, you been a good girl?" alessia cooed, scooping up the puppy who wiggled and whined and licked all over her face. "i'd try to break her out of that habit, i've seen a lot of dogs eat a lot of poop." you smiled apologetically as alessia paled and immediately placed her back down on the floor wiping her face.

"noted. thank you!"

alessia once again found her head swamped with the words of her friends as you happily explained how the obedience classes worked, the striker humming and nodding to show she was listening when really her head was off with the clouds.

"but of course there isn't any pressure i know theres a whole load of classes and schools, we actually have a bunch of brochures back in the waiting room so please take some and look into whatever option works best for you and willow." you smiled softly, bending down again to play with the small puppy.

some of the best advice alessia had ever been given was by her brother luca, they were incredibly close and as much as he also frustrated her to no end sometimes he had passed on a pearl or two of wisdom over the years.

one of which was that if alessia was ever dreading something to count to three and just do it, because the longer she took to do it the more she'd overthink and the opportunity 9 times out of 10 would be lost.

so now trying to keep that in mind instead of everything else the girl took a deep breath and counted to three as you stood up and brushed off your scrubs.

"look i don't normally do this but i'm trying this new thing where i don't let opportunities pass me by. would you like to grab a coffee or something sometime?" alessia asked nervously, fiddling with the leash in her hand as you looked on in surprise and the striker prepared herself for rejection.

"yeah! i'd love to."

#woso #woso x reader #alessia russo #woso community #woso blurbs #woso imagine #woso fanfics #engwnt #alessia russo x reader

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dilatorywriting · 11 months

Text

Monster Mayhem: Siren's Song

Gender Neutral Reader x Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 6.1k

Summary: What do you call a deaf pirate? Not 'Siren Food' apparently, which is really sort of hilarious when you've been kidnapped by a hungry Siren. Not for the Siren though—he's definitely not having a good time.

A/N: *rushes in at the 11th hour* Happy Mer-May!! I've been back and forth with clinical rotations and also working on some commission things and Leona's Part 4, but like, it's a fanfiction holiday. I couldn't miss out. And for one of my favorite tropes nonetheless. So here we are.

[PART 1] [PART 2]

There was a legend that floated throughout the Sage Island Seas of the Pirate With No Ears. Which was ridiculous—half because such a tall tale managing to survive so long and so wildly really showed just how pathetic the rest of the gossip around here was, and half because you still had ears. They just didn’t work very well was all.

Some said you’d been deafened by a prowling sea sorcerer who had tricked you into trading away your once keen sense for some mortal foible or other. Others whispered about how you’d been trapped in an ice cavern, surrounded by electric eels and sharks, and that the only way you’d been able to weasel your way out was by cutting off your own ears so that you’d have enough wiggle room to escape from your bindings. Which made absolutely zero sense at all.

In reality, all you’d done was stand far too close to a canon for far too long when you were far, far too little, and ever since all you could hear was the dull ringing of post-battle silence. Sometimes it was a bit sad. When the waves crashed against the shore, or when the gulls flew overhead—you were sure all those things sounded very lovely. You remembered music and laughter and sometimes they echoed in your head at a distance—a memory not quite forgotten but certainly fading at the edges. But other times, like now, where your fellow crewmates were bawling into their ales and wailing about lord knew what… well, it was always nice to find a silver lining in these sorts of things.

One of the tipsy lads tottering around the deck of The Rose Queen tripped and landed against the wood with something that looked like it’d be a very loud smack. Your brain helpfully filled the silence with some nonsense noises and park-play-style laughter instead. You watched Cater stumble by out of the corner of your eye. He patted your head and said something that twisted his mouth into a gaping ‘uuuuu-eeeee-oooo’ before he puttered away to leech off First Mate Clover instead. Ace threw a drunken arm around your shoulder and burbled something against your cheek that popped with the scent of stale booze, and you decided to pretend that you were as alone at sea as your muted senses would like to think.

The party raged on long into the evening and you stared down at the rabble contentedly from your perch in the crow’s nest. They were a good bunch—dullards though they may be. You’d heard (hardee har har) that they were planning to raid the Port o'Bliss, and something must have gone terribly right. You only really hung around to scrub barnacles off the paneling and keep an eye on the tides well enough that Deuce wouldn’t run the lot of you ashore, so you weren’t really sure how the whole ‘pirating’ business actually went about. But clearly they were doing a pretty good job of it.

You rested your chin on your crossed arms and sighed into the salty breeze. The night was warm and pleasant, and before you knew it, you were nodding off against the rough fabric of your sleeves. You weren’t quite sure how long you spent dozing there tangled in the ropes of mast, but it was long enough that by the time you snorted back awake the festive lights had dimmed to embers and most of the crew had sidled away below deck to either keep drinking themselves blind or collapse in a pool of their own colorful vomit.

There was a lone figure swerving towards the bow—precariously close to the railing for someone so clearly unsteady on their own legs, if you did say so yourself. You squinted suspiciously at his mused lavender hair, not entirely sure you recognized the head bobbing around below you. But perhaps The Rose Queen had picked up some fresh recruits at the Port, or maybe the crew had gotten a bit too booze happy with some dye. Purple Hair leaned up against the rails and tipped forward on his toes like he was thinking about diving in, or maybe barfing. Either or, you sighed and shimmied your way down to stop him from tumbling into a watery grave.

“Oi!” you called, the shout vibrating up and out of your throat, and the kid jumped half a foot in the air. “What do you think you’re doing? Get away from there. Riddle’ll have your head if we have to send out the rescue rafts this late at—”

The kid turned to face you with wide, wide, glowing eyes. Your own went round as dinner plates as you watched his too-dark pupils pulse like drumbeat. They were so bright, practically illuminating the whole of his delicate face, but there was no light to them. Matte and sleek like a shark’s eyes.

He shouted something at you so whip fast that you couldn’t even begin to make sense of, and then he was glancing nervously back and forth between the roiling waves at his back and the encroaching deckhand at his front—making all sorts of nonsense gestures that had you sighing behind gritted teeth.

“Look,” you said, interrupting whatever indiscernible gibberish he was spouting, “I don’t know who you think you are. But you’ve picked the wrong ship to try and—I don’t know—seize? Pirate? You can’t pirate a pirate ship! But either way, you—”

Then the kid opened his mouth like he was screaming, and you frowned again. There was strange prickle along your arms that had goosebumps crawling up your skin and the hair raising at the back of your neck, but you shook it off and moved forward with another weary sigh. You pulled a length of rope from the belt slung around your hips and held the limp bundle of salt-soaked mesh up like a threat.

“I will throw you overboard. And hogtie you first,” you promised cheerily. “So you actually sink.”

Purple Hair just looked like he was trying to scream louder, and you were sourly tempted to stick your fucking tongue out at him and make petulant ‘nyeh nyeh nice try’ noises at him, but then there was a heaviness behind you. A creak in the wood that you could feel if not hear. You rolled out of habit—tumbling across the deck just in time to avoid a nasty swipe along your back. And oh no. The thing crawling up over the railing was worse than any lavender would-be ship thief. The black tipped claws and flared fins were telling enough, but the sharp-toothed grin was somehow more so. It tilted its unnaturally lovely head at you and spoke politely—clearly and very, painfully, slowly.

“What’s—this—perhaps—” you were able to vaguely make out. Maybe. The dark and your panic were both a terrible hindrance to putting shapes to sound. His lips curled into something wicked before parting far more smoothly than the younger man’s had. Singing. It was singing, not screaming. Hauntingly green eyes glowed bright and you felt the tunk tunk tunk beneath your feet of the rest of the crew starting to move around beneath you. Around you.

Then there were more of them—crawling up over the railings, trilling into the night air. All far too lovely and far too sharp to be anything but predators. The moonlight illuminated their fangs and scales in a ghostly white glow. There were shivers running along your spine, but otherwise nothing but silence echoed through your head. Small mercies. You watched several of your fellow crewmates rush out of the cabins only to double over with their hands clasped over their ears. Others stuttered and tumbled forward towards the railings as if they were being dragged along like puppets on a string. You cursed and ducked between them—looping your rope around their legs as you went and tugging them to their knees like a line of falling dominoes.

You let your hapless comrades collapse to the deck and curled the last throws of rope around your fists. You were decent enough with a knife when it came to dueling an unmoving, completely unaware foe—like a barnacle or some rusted over door hinges. But real people? Sirens?Fucking literal blade-tipped-merfolk straight out of every sailor’s nightmare? No thank you. So the teeny blade stayed sheathed at your hip and you dove into the fray to find something rope-wrangle-able.

At the other end of the bow, you watched Purple Boy straighten from a crouch. There were new, silvery blue scales crawling up his neck and forearms. He was still tottering around on legs that he clearly wasn’t all too used to, and you watched as the little guppy started to make a furious beeline for Captain Rosehearts. Which—no. Absolutely not. You were never one of those pirates who was like ‘oh, Captain, my Captain~’ but Riddle was good. He was tough, and taciturn, and could throw a tantrum that could bring down an entire harbor. But he’d written out all of his ridiculous six hundred rules by hand so that you could have them. And the teeny furrow in his brow as he staunchly taught himself hand sign after hand sign so that he could yell at you in earnest was so endearing that you’d protect that little firecracker for as long as you breathed.

So you went after Lavender Head, and then of course Lavender Head turned and tried to shout at you all over again. When that continued to not work at all, the Siren began to backpedal in earnest. He turned his head and squawked at whoever was around to listen, but in the chaos of the attack there didn’t seem to be many of his pod free to lend him a hand.

You descended on the little snake, rope at the ready and perfectly happy to make sushi out of the fucker, when something big overshadowed the both of you. Another Siren crested over the side of the ship, larger and clearly more impressive than the rest of its kin. Which matched your stupidly terrible luck just fine. Ah, yes, Mister Big Bad. Please. Go for the deckhand rather than the literal trained mercenaries less than ten feet away. Brilliant. The Siren bared its fangs like some great, terrible, beast and tore into the paneling with its curved claws as it attempted to drag you down to your watery grave. You cursed, and kicked, and yelped in a panic when the thing managed to get one of those cold, pale hands around your ankle.

Despite the fact that all of it surely happened in less than a few seconds, your descent seemed to progress in steps. First, the Siren tugged you over the side. Second, you smartly flipped the loops of your rope up to try and lasso yourself a handhold. Thirdly, you outright missed the ship and instead tangled the spools of thin rope all around your Murderer To Be. Said Murderer’s eyes widened in shock as your unintentional trap wrapped the both of you up like a mess of bugs in a spider web. And finally, the pair of you crashed towards the churning ocean in a knotted-up heap and slowly sank beneath the waves.

You rubbed the grit and salt from your eyes and sat up with a groan. Where were you? Not too far out at sea, hopefully. Washing up ashore had been nothing short of a miracle, and you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth if it meant you got to avoid becoming chum for another day. The sand beneath your fingers was soft and white, and it slipped beneath your palm like water. You moved to push yourself to your feet and froze—a blur of amethyst swiping out and knocking you back onto your ass with a splash.

You spluttered and spat, and had just barely managed to flip yourself over like a turtle who’d been upended on its back when you caught sight of the absolute last creature in the world that you’d ever wanted to see again.

The big Siren had washed up nearby.

Because of course it had.

The creature narrowed his eyes at you and immediately set about lashing his rope-twisted tail against the sand like a rattlesnake. He bared his pointed teeth in a hiss and you were dowsed in a barrage of saltwater ammunition.

“Stop! Stop!” you begged, spitting out wayward chunks of seaweed, and shells, and gods knew what else. “I get it! I won’t come near you, jeesh! I wasn’t planning on it to begin with!”

The Siren curled his lips unpleasantly, putting that wonderful row of dagger-like pearly whites on display. He spat something completely indiscernible—the line of his mouth so harsh and flat that you couldn’t have even begun to pick up the shape of things if you tried—and you scooted as far back as you could without toppling yourself over again.

He dug his clawed hands into the sand and said something else, just as clipped and tight. You assumed it was an accusation. You were very used to recognizing the glare that accompanied those. When you didn’t respond, his brow tugged down low and he snapped something else—this time jabbing those pointed, black, nails in your direction. Ah, so definitely a complaint then.

You cocked your head at him out of habit and that griping turned into a snarl so ferocious that you could feel it racing up your skin like static. Which was definitely pretty trippy.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you told him honestly. Which just made the spiked fins flatten all along the side of his head and another wave of those zippy sneers dance up your arms. “Literally,” you tried. “I—”

The Siren opened his mouth and that sparky static from earlier amplified into something near painful. It was strong, and prickly, and left the imprints of invisible shackles all along your already aching joints. You could feel his voice carrying on the breeze—brushing against your cheeks and playing with hair. Thin, icy, fingers digging their way into your brain and yanking. But there was something missing from all that ethereal hypnotism. Something pleasant and sweet to complete the circle of temptation. A voice, you’d guess. There had to be a call after all, or else it hardly mattered how deep and all encompassing the need was to answer.

When you didn’t immediately, like, fall to your knees in subjugation or drown yourself in the inch and a half of tepid water pooling at your hips, the Siren’s eyes dimmed with something that almost looked like hesitance. His brow pinched tight and he parted his red lips wider. A seagull dropped from the sky. Three different crabs crawled out of the sand to bow down.

“I can’t hear you!” you tried again, loud enough to have your teeth aching. His mouth went wider, and an entire ass tuna beached itself to flop pathetically near your ankles. “It’s not a challenge!” you wailed. “My ears literally, actually, do not work, you fucking overgrown anchovy!”

The static disappeared all at once, and the Siren’s lips slipped into a small, surprised sort of ‘o.’ He blinked his too-long lashes at you and stared you down like you were some sort of escaped alchemical experiment.

“There,” you huffed. “Finally.” And then went quiet and a bit concerned. Because apparent Song Immunity or otherwise, the thing was still hugely impressive and scary looking. His claws definitely wouldn’t have any problem picking the leftover bits of you out of his teeth, and you knew well enough that if he dragged you into the depths with that powerful tail of his, there would be no resurfacing.

The Siren too was using this time to glare at you like you were somehow a threat to be taken seriously. Which was half flattering, half pretty funny.

“Well…” you said after a long moment. “I should get going, I suppose.”

You made your way to your feet in the mucky sandbar and started heading off to see where you’d been stranded. You could feel the Siren’s heavy gaze on you the whole while, and decided he was probably trying to figure out if you’d taste better paired with seaweed or a nice jellyfish spread.

The pair of you had been stranded on a small, crescent, islet that couldn’t even rightly call itself an island. You were able to walk from its curling east to west coasts in just under fifteen minutes, and that was at a meandering pace where you stopped to peer into all kinds of little grottos and rocky formations. There was some vegetation at the heart of it—short palm trees and tufts of grassy knolls—and thankfully a few deep divots that had collected some still rainwater, but otherwise it was entirely boring and stupid. Not even any weird tortoises or anything meandering about to make friends with.

By the time you circled back around to your original stranding point, you had fully expected the Siren to have flipped you the metaphorical bird and fucked off back into the ocean, never to be seen again. Instead, he was still stretched out in the shallows of the bay, carefully fanning his long tail out in the seafoam and picking through the mess of it with his pointy claws.

He reminded you of a beta fish—with wide, flowing, fins that looked far more like silk than skin or scales. The tips were a deep, plum purple that gently faded from near black to violet and finally a vivid sort of lilac at their junction. The bulk of his tail looked like it could be made from literal gemstones with the way it shimmered in the morning light (gems that had perhaps been a bit dinged and/or literally torn out in chunks from where he may or may not have been smashed into the rocky shore curtesy of your terrible hogtie, but who’s to say).

There were jagged cuts lining the right half of his pale torso. They oozed a strange sort of silver ichor that was probably some kind of mystical merman blood, but you absolutely refused to get close enough to try and find out. The fins framing his pelvis were tangled and thin looking, and the sweeping ones that trailed all the way down to the tip of his tail were battered and torn. Clearly pulled to bits by your handy, dandy lasso skills. Which… was still tied up at the base of them. Huh. You’d assumed he’d be able to slice through all that knotwork without issue. But maybe…

You approached the Siren cautiously. You caught the exact moment he must have realized you’d returned because the fins along the sides of his head flattened like the ears on a pissy cat and he turned on you with a very dramatic snarl that probably sounded all sorts of menacing.

“Hello,” you greeted, and the merman spat something that you assumed was probably a very polite ‘fuck right off.’

You nodded because, well, fair enough. And then pointed to his injured fins and the waterlogged ropes still twisted up around the heart of them.

“I can get that off if you promise not to eat me.”

He shouted something no doubt very indignant and then was back to hissing at you. Which definitely didn’t sound like an agreement not to immediately murder you on the spot.

“Alright,” you shrugged. “Your loss, I suppose.”

Well, your loss, really. Keeping a wounded Siren around was just asking for trouble. Their pods were viciously protective for one thing, and that wasn’t even taking into account the poachers and rivals who’d be more than keen to come sniffing after the fresh trail of blood in the water. Maybe you could find a big stick or something and just, I don’t know, push him back into the ocean and be done with it.

The thought must have shown on your face, because suddenly he was smacking his tail against the sandbar and spitting something that you very much assumed was a demand along the lines of ‘you are going to take accountability for this.’

Which absolutely no way in Hell. He’d kidnapped you sort of, so that made you his problem, thank you very much.

You felt your stomach gurgle, and it must have been pretty loud going off the stink eye he sent your way. You turned your nose up at him and went about collecting the various critters that had been washed ashore in his tenor’s tantrum.

“Thanks for the food!” you chirped petulantly as you worked on scaling the tuna with the knife from your belt—making long, pointed, eye contact as you did so.

The Siren sneered at you and went back to grooming the shredded ends of his fins.

The rest of the afternoon became a sort of pissing contest between the two of you to see who could earn the title of Bitchiest Beach Bitch. You thought you were definitely winning with the whole ‘eating something that could have been his long-lost cousin’ thing, but then he went and swamped the entirety of the small fire you built (and all of said ‘cousin’ being cooked over it) with one sweep of his tail, so now you were at the very least tied. You set up a nice little shaded hutch out of driftwood and ferns to escape the sun, he called down seagulls to shit all over it and pick it to pieces. He tried to roll around to reach some of the tighter fibers tangled in his pectoral fins, and you chucked rocks at him until he reared on you with a scream that had all the hairs on your arms standing on end. Y’know. Perfectly mature things like that.

That night you curled up beside a tall, jagged rock just at the outskirt of the bay—determined to get some shut eye but to also keep within range of your newest pest in case he decided to try and pull something sneaky. But every time you’d just about settled in to sleep, the shallow tide would lap against your toes in harsh shush shush shushes that had you furrowing you brow until you finally had enough and sat up to see what all the hubbub was about.

The Siren was tossing around in the shallows like a fish in a net—throwing his long body against the bindings and flailing like his life depended on it. And as much as he’d definitely deserved to get caught up in your unintentional hogtie, watching something as large and no doubt powerful as he was wriggling around like a worm on a hook was… Well. Something soured a bit in your gut as you watched him give one, final, great buck against his bindings before collapsing back into the shallows in a circle of seafoam. He panted against the surface of the water, the tips of his pale hair dripping down in a curtain around his haggard face, and you could see a fine tremor running along his shoulder blades.

You turned back to your rock and ground the heels of your palms into your eyes, fighting the absolute batshit insane urge to feel bad for a monster who had literally tried to drag you to your death less than twenty-four hours ago.

The water was calm and still for the rest of the night.

The next morning, you picked up a few of the crabs who had crawled up to shore and went about getting them clean and fit for eating. You glanced at the Siren, who was busy preening over his janky fins and fussing over his hair. It was entirely unfair that you probably looked like a half-drowned rat, and yet this creature that wasn’t even meant to exist on the surface was somehow managing to put himself together well enough to rival the courtesans you’d seen meandering around some of the wealthier coastal towns.

You stared at the crabs. There were three of them. It wasn’t really sharing if it was meant to be a bribe to keep him from eating you whole. Or at least, that’s what you reassured yourself as you cautiously tiptoed back to the water’s edge.

The Siren swiveled on you with a snap of something that looked sort of like a ‘What?!’ and you held up one of the gutted crabs in offering.

“I don’t know if you all eat fish or whatever, but…” You waved the limp crab awkwardly.

The Siren rolled its purple eyes and said something fast and sharp that you couldn’t really parse. Something, something, not, something, something, are crust—Something, something, are you that stupid? (you recognized the impressions of those words well enough to mouth them even in your sleep).

“Look, do you want it or not?” you interrupted, and he bristled—all those delicate, violet, fins flaring up like a porcupine’s spikes.

The Siren crossed his arms stiffly and pointedly turned in the other direction with a mutter of something you had no hopes of catching.

“Whatever,” you snapped and went to bite into your meal. Only to immediately forget that these pointy little fuckers still had their shells on them. You reeled back with a yelp as you stabbed a million, tiny, carapace-shaped holes in your tongue.

The fucking Siren had the gall to turn back around so that you could see him laughing at you.

That night he was back to flipping around in the shallows like a miniature hurricane.

You counted out the waves sloshing against your heels, telling yourself you’d intervene in his self-destructive tsunami once it hit one hundred. And then it became two, then three. You shifted hesitantly to peek over the rock’s edge and watched him curl into himself like some terribly wounded creature before shaking himself out of the fog of pain that had clearly settling over his nerves, and then continued with his nonsense.

You hurled a big, pink seashell at his head and he whipped on you like a rabid dog, practically foaming at the mouth and raring for a fight. When he lunged forward with the waves—seething with hatred, and blame, and nearly crashing onto his already shredded front in the process, something angry in your snapped.

“Look, fish face! You were the one who attacked me! You!” you demanded, stomping perhaps a bit closer than would be rational. “So stop acting like I’m some scheming shithead who was planning to trap you like this from the start!”

The Siren roared something back and slapped his tail in the surf. Static zipped along your cheeks and you grit your teeth. He glared at you bitterly and then began to repeat one word over and over—slow and angry.

‘Eeeeehhh-Pppe-llllll’ said his lips. Strong and harsh with the shape of it.

And then he was back to spewing all kinds of rapid-fire vitriol that you wouldn’t have bothered to keep track of even if you could. Something in his expression shifted almost quicker than you could notice and he lifted his massive tail out of the water. He smacked the fins in your direction and pointedly jabbed a clawed finger at the creases of them—where delicate, silky, tendrils met strong, gem toned, muscle. Where the purple was light and clean. A pale, shiny, lavender. Almost just like—

“That kid?” you frowned. “You attacked me because of Purple Head?!”

He sneered again and pointedly sent a splash of seawater into your face.

“You—” you grit your teeth. “He was still attacking us first! He was going after my friend!” you snapped, kicking your own wave back. For all the good it would do. “You don’t get to act all noble and protective, and like any of that makes any difference when you all were going to eat us!”

The Siren’s face twisted up like you’d force fed him soured milk, and he looped back around with a dramatic fwoosh of water to dive into the shallows. It was maybe two or three feet deep at best, and he was barely submerged. Not to mention how utterly ridiculous it looked to see a creature that was no doubt usually the peak of grace and athleticism reduced to flopping belly first into the waves with his proverbial legs tied up behind him. But you recognized a door slamming in your face when you saw it, no matter the species. Fine. Let him be a petty bastard. He could rot away in the sandbar for all you cared.

The next day you woke up with goosebumps crawling up and down your limbs.

There were all sorts of gulls crash-landed in the sand around you and more sad, little, sea creatures gasping on the beach than you dared to count. You shoved a particularly chubby octopus back into a tidepool as you passed and wondered just what sort of nonsense your co-strandee was getting up to now.

The Siren was circling the bay with his head held high above the low waves—lips parted and clearly caterwauling like a dying porpoise. The surface of the water trembled with whatever was making its way out of his mouth, and he looped and looped around the shores. It reminded you of the time you’d seen a whale calf separated from its pod. It had gotten trapped in a shallow inlet when the tides had changed, and your ship had been anchored just off the same coast. You’d watched it circle and circle, lifting its heavy snout to snort sharp jets of water into the air. Deuce had passed you a scribbled note when you’d asked him what it sounded like.

‘It’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.’

There was a moment where the Siren paused in his paces and tilted his head. The fins there flared out to the side, like he was listening for something. But after a long moment the spines drooped back against his damp hair and he went back to his singing an aria to no one.

‘It’s looking for its family,‘ Riddle had signed to you when you’d asked him why the calf didn’t simply leave once the tides had turned in its favor. ‘This is where they last saw it, so this is where it will stay.’

“Maybe they forgot about him already,” you mused petulantly, turning back towards the center of the islet to try and scavenge up something to eat from all the poor creatures who had collapsed beneath your nemesis’s wailing.

The bitter thought wasn’t nearly as satisfying as it ought to be.

That night, the waters were still.

You squinted suspiciously at the merman curled in the shallows of the bay. He’d pulled himself half-out of the water, resting his more human looking bulk in the soft sand as gentle waves lapped at his tail. He slept on his front with his arms crossed beneath his pointed chin—his unbound fins sticking up behind him in a way that deliriously reminded you of bedhead. You watched him carefully for nearly an hour, searching for any tightness in his muscles or change in his breathing that might indicate he was faking it. But as the evening stretched on and he never lurched awake to try and gauge your eyes out, you assumed he might actually be properly resting.

He'd been swimming in circles all day—the aborted, stuttering, beats of his bound tail looking painful even by your non-tail-having standards. Eventually the tremors along the ocean had grown stuttered and strange, like perhaps his voice was giving out on him. And once that had happened, he’d curled up exactly where he was now. And hadn’t moved since.

You stared at the Siren hesitantly. He was certainly in enough of a state that you could probably pull off that whole ‘shoving him into the depths with a stick’ thing. He’d probably just let you do it—sink to the bottom in a mess of shredded fins and tangled twine and never rise again.

You gnawed at your lip, feeling something unpleasantly hot and sticky twist up your stomach.

The knife glinted between your fingers and you thought of crying whales and of the crew that you already missed so much that it felt like a gnawing chasm had opened in your chest.

You huffed out a miserable sigh and lamented for not the first time in your life that you really were just so fucking stupid sometimes. And then you were cautiously making your way down towards the waterline and the sleeping Siren sprawled out in the sand. Slowly—so very, very slowly—you tiptoed towards the mer and tried to get a quick glance at what amounted to the worst of the damage.

The rope had been thin and long, and the more he’d struggled, the more he’d dug the twine into his fins. You reached forward at half speed and slipped the blade into one of the too-tight creases beneath the bindings. You winced a bit in sympathy at the raw, pink skin beneath. No wonder he hadn’t been able to just rip the fibers away. He’d probably just ended up tugging them over and over against the oozing wounds beneath.

The first strand broke beneath your fingers with something that almost felt like a pop. Like seams ripping on a shirt. You glanced quickly at the sleeping Siren to confirm he was still lost to the world and not gearing up to bite your fingers off at the knuckle, and then continued making your way through the worst of it. It reminded you a bit of the time Ace had accidentally snared a sea turtle in one of his fishing nets and the lot of you had spent the better part of an hour slowly working the thing free of the seemingly endless tangles. You delicately worked the tightest edges away from the harsh indentations they’d left against his scales and peeled back the muckier bits with enough gentleness to avoid mangling anymore of his already battered fins.

The last of the rope finally came away with a satisfying, wet weight and you let it fall to the sand beside you with a pleased nod. Now you could let Mister Merman swim away in the morning with no unpleasantly gross sense of moral obligation weighing down your consciousness. Maybe he’d even be thankful enough to look at you with something other than a venomous glare for once. Certainly nothing like the one leveled at you right now. And—

Oh.

You didn’t even have time to properly gasp before you were being flipped and pinned into the wet sand. The Siren loomed over you, digging his black claws into your shoulder until you could feel the first pricks of blood breaking the surface. He snarled in your face, the curtain of his pale blonde hair shadowing his eyes in something so dark it was nearly black. The brilliant purple cast off his glowing irises were like little spots of stars in an otherwise empty night sky.

He leaned forward, teeth bared, and then some sort of tight expression flickered over his face. He paused, brow tugging together steep and angry. He hunched down once more, fangs at the ready, and then ducked back out. He shook his head, like he was trying to clear fog from his brain, and then he was snapping his canines at you all over again.

The Siren reared back with a booming snarl that sent ripples through the soft tide lapping at your ankles. He turned with one, final, icy glower and dove back into the shallows, disappearing beneath the surface in a flash of amethyst scales. He flicked his tail sharply as he went, and one of the tattered fins snapped against your nose with enough of a crack to make you yelp.

You sat up in disbelief, rubbing at your aching skin and watching in outright consternation as the great predator of the oceans swam tight laps beneath the warm waters of your little lagoon—fins occasionally cresting over the surface to smack pointed fistfuls of water into your gaping face.

Deliriously, one of The Rose Queen’s hundreds of nonsensical rules bounced about your head. Happy to fill the otherwise entirely empty space behind your eyes.

‘Never save a Sea Serpent on a Sunday,’ Riddle had demanded, hands at his hips. ‘No Serpents, or Sea Horses, or Sirens to speak of.’

‘Man,’ you thought wildly, brain high on adrenaline and static as you watched one of the aforementioned Sirens swan about like he hadn’t probably just been a half second away from gnawing on your literal bones. ‘If I get out of this alive, Captain’s definitely gonna collar me this time.’

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slutsmut-racha · 6 months

Text

Movie Night w/ 3RACHA

pairing: polyamorous relationship with afab!reader and 3RACHA

word count: 4.2k

genre: smut, fluff

warnings: afab!reader but gender neutral terms used; polyamorous relationship; anal; oral (m and f receiving); fingering (pussy and ass); ass smacking; clit smacking; picture taken (with consent); hair pulling; pet names: baby, bunny, love; If I missed anything, please let me know!

note: This is my first writing on here. I've been daydreaming and making up stories all my life, but I'm new to writing them out. So this may be a little rough. Feedback is appreciated. This also means I'm still learning how to work tumblr, tags, lingo, etc. It's a bit of a full story with some fluffy fluff rather than just straight to smut and ending on smut.

please read: rules and related info

You had picked a horror movie to watch that night. You, Binnie, and Han liked horror movies. Bang Chan was supposed to be in the studio late to finish tracks, so you didn’t have to worry about him and his aversion to scary movies.

Hyunjin was at the other dorm tonight, hanging out with the maknaes and LeeKnow.

Sitting on the couch with Changbin on one side and Jisung on the other, lights off, you were enjoying the movie. You were a quarter of the way through it when Chan came home. Han jumped at the sound of him coming in, already affected by the movie. Binnie smirked and you laughed.

“Ah, man. A scary movie? Really?” Chan groaned when he saw what was on the TV.

“Sorry, hyung, you weren’t supposed to be home,” Han replied.

“Do you want us to change it” you asked him.

“NooooOOooOoOOoooo!!” Changbin instantly whined. “I never get to watch horror movies with you because of him,” he pouted.

Bang Chan chuckled. “It’s fine. I just won’t pay attention to it.” He came over and lifted you off the couch and sat where you just were and plopped you down in his lap. “I’ll just pay attention to you,” he said, moving your hair aside and kissing your neck.

“Fine by me,” you smirked. You weren’t going to complain. Your 3 favorite men all on the couch with you, just the 4 of you at their place. No other members or staff around. These moments were rare.

“AH!” Han exclaimed at a jump scare. You couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re a psycho, you know that? How can you laugh at these things?” he pouted.

“Awe, I’m sorry, baby,” you said, running your fingers through his hair. “Would you rather I get scared and cower in your arms?”

“Yes,” he said indignantly.

“You’re cute,” you chuckled at his annoyance.

“I’m not cute,” he scowled. “I’m your protector,” he huffed.

“I’m going to get some popcorn,” Chan said, rolling his eyes at Jisung. He kissed your shoulder and smacked your ass as he lifted you up so he could stand.

“Okay, okay, protector,” you said as you sat back down. You leaned back against Han who wrapped his arm around your waist. “You can be my big, bad protector.” You turned to kiss his cheek and he grinned.

“Good. That’s all I want.” He kissed the top of your head as you laid it back against his shoulder.

Changbin laid a hand on your thigh closest to him and rubbed it up and down, kneading here and there. Chan came back with his popcorn, shirt already gone like he prefers, and sat in the rotating armchair, turning it from the TV, and started scrolling through his phone. He didn’t want to go to his room, he wanted to be out here with you three. But he did what he could to avoid the movie all the same.

Han was pulling you closer, kneading your hip, your tummy, occasionally your breast. He was working you up and you were sure he knew it. Every touch, every squeeze, just made your arousal grow. You squeezed your thighs together in your mini skirt. Changbin smirked, knowing why with his hand still on one of them. He grabbed your knee and pulled your leg over his lap, spreading your legs.

You pursed your lips but said nothing. You weren’t going to give in to them so easily. They liked it a little bit when you made them work for it. It was hard sometimes though. It was easier to hold out and tease them when it was just one on one. Even 2 on one, although harder, was still doable. But 3 on 1? You would be putty in their hands almost instantly. You always had trouble keeping control when they all 3 teamed up on you.

The next scare in the movie was the first big scare and it had Han diving face first into your lap. You definitely laughed that time as you pet his head and ran your fingers through his hair. He wasn’t moving though. You thought it must have really scared him and you cooed “oh, my poor baby.” But really he wasn’t moving because he was nose first in your lap. He could smell your arousal. Your skirt had ridden up your thighs when Binnie had spread your legs, exposing your panties. It was dark, but illuminated by the TV Han could definitely see a spot on your underwear that was darker than the rest, the spot where you had soaked through your panties because of them.

Han moved his head just slightly, just enough to give him a better angle, and then you felt his tongue run across you on that wet spot.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, not expecting it. Han groaned. He could taste you on that spot, he could feel the heat on his face coming from your core, he could tell just how wet you were, and he loved it.

Han moved to kneel before you on the couch.

“Ji!” you laughed. “We’re not even halfway through the movie!”

You tried to close your legs, but Changbin held on to your leg over his lap, kneading your inner thigh with both hands. “Relax, bunny. Let Hannie take care of you,” he said. You looked over at him. He kept his eyes on your face. You could tell he was enjoying this. He loved it when you got worked up in their hands. His, Han’s, Chan’s, whichever of the 3 of them. He just loved watching your face as you moaned and panted under them, eyes rolling back into your head, hands gripping… whatever they could find as you came apart completely.

You looked over at Channie. He wasn’t looking at his phone anymore. “Go ahead, love. How long has it been? We’ve been busy a lot lately, we haven’t had any alone time together. Let him.”

You looked at Han next. His big, round eyes looking up at you from where he was on the floor. He didn’t say anything, but you could tell he wanted this so much. You nodded and he grinned as he dove in, face first.

He didn’t remove your panties yet. He just licked and sucked at your clit through the wet spot until all he could taste was the cotton fabric. Then he went to remove your panties, Changbin releasing your leg so he could. He left your skirt on and Bin took your leg back the moment your underwear was off.

Han licked from your core to your clit. He nipped your clit lightly, making your hips buck slightly, and inserted 2 fingers in you. He licked and sucked and nibbled your clit and finger fucked you until your back was arching off the couch and your thighs were trying to clench around his head and suffocate him. The only thing keeping his head safe was Binnie’s hold on one of your legs. You had your fingers in his hair, gripping and holding his face down while you ground up into it. “Ji- fuck- Ji please-” you moaned as he hummed against your clit. He didn’t let up until you had rode through your orgasm and slumped back onto the couch.

You closed your eyes, basking in the aftermath of Han’s mouth. “Not yet, baby, my baby,” Han squeezed your thigh. “Lay back against Binnie.” You did as told, head in Binnie’s lap.

Changbin smiled down at you. “Such a good little bunny,” he caressed your cheek.

Han came back a moment later (where did he go? you thought) with condom in hand, already rolling it down his dick, clothes gone. Ah, that’s where. You watched as he got in between your legs. He lined himself up and slowly pushed into you. You gasped at the fullness, eyes rolling back. Han groaned as he bottomed out. He didn’t wait long for you to adjust, instead pulling back and slamming into you.

It really had been a long time since you had this time with any of them, one-on-one or more. Han leaned forward and kissed you. You could taste yourself on him and you leaned up to get more, pushing your tongue into his mouth. Your hand found the back of his neck and you pulled him towards you more. He had one hand on the arm of the couch, over Changbin’s lap, keeping himself upright, and the other on your thigh as he held it over his hip. He could feel his knees slipping though and had to sit back up to regain his balance. You pouted as he moved away.

Changbin chuckled at your pout. “No worries, bunny. That just gives me access to this pretty pussy of yours,” he said as he reached over and started rubbing your clit.

“Ah- fuck… Binnie...”

You used your elbows to lift yourself up as far as you could, trying to get closer to Changbin’s face. You wanted to make out. He knew that. But he wouldn’t close the distance. “Can I help you with something?” he teased.

“Rude,” you muttered, rolling your eyes.

He smacked your clit. “What was that?” he asked sternly.

You spoke up louder so all 3 could definitely hear you. “I said you’re rude. Now fucking kiss me Binnie,” you demanded and Han laughed.

“Ah, go on Bin,” you heard Chan say. “Kiss y/n. Can’t you see how bad your little bunny needs it?”

You looked over at Chan. He had pulled his cock out and was stroking it slowly. He was hard, but he wasn’t in a rush to get off. He was saving that for you.

You moaned at the sight of him, the feeling of Han inside you, and Changbin’s fingers as they started rubbing again. You couldn’t look away from Chan. The tips of his ears and his chest were flushed as your attention was on him, but he had a cocky smirk all the same as he held your eye.

Changbin grabbed your chin and turned you to face him again. He leaned forward and closed the distance between you two finally. It was a tender kiss at first. He lightly bit your lip and your tongues crashed together softly. But as you reached another orgasm and moaned into his mouth it became more fervent. You had to break away, gasping for air.

You looked at Han and he leaned forward, kissing you like Binnie had just a moment ago. He was moaning and groaning into your mouth, his hips faltering as he came. Changbin rubbed your clit faster and applied a bit more pressure, making sure you finished through this orgasm too. Han pulled away from the kiss and leaned his forehead against yours, panting as he came down from his own orgasm.

Changbin had stopped rubbing your clit and was now squeezing your tit through your shirt, thumb rolling over your hardened nipple. You could tell he was getting impatient for his turn. You angled your head to tenderly kiss Jisung and tap his hip, signaling him to move before-

“Yah!” Changbin shouted from above you. “I want my bunny too!” He jokingly (not so jokingly) punched Han in the shoulder.

“OW!” Han shouted and you winced at how loud it was.

You heard Chan sigh from where he was. “No shouting or hitting each other while still on or in the significant other,” Chan scolded them.

“Oh, sorry my baby!” Han kissed down your neck and your chest in apology as he slowly removed himself from you. You hissed as you felt his cock slide out and you felt empty again.

“Yah! I’m so sorry bunny!” Changbin shouted as he stood up. You were forced forward as he did so and fell back on the couch after he had moved. He then grabbed your waist and forced you to stand up with him. He pulled you into a tight hug, crushing your face against him.

“Chang- bin-! Can’t- breathe-!” you forced out.

He eased up on his grip but only enough to lift your face to his and kiss you. He caressed your face with one hand and slid his other down to grip your ass, walking you over to the side of the couch. He turned you around to face the couch. He started teasing your shirt up as he kissed your neck.

“Bunny, can I take this off,” he asked, and you nodded in answer. He pulled your shirt off and went back to leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses on your neck as he caressed and squeezed your tits. You moaned as he lightly pinched your nipples between his fingers.

You turned back around to face him and tugged his shirt over his head. You ran your fingers down his chest and over his tummy. He shivered at your touch and you smiled at him. You slid your hand further down, caressing his bulging cock over his jeans. You kissed down his chest and went to get on your knees, but he grabbed your arms and pulled you back up.

“No, bunny. I want…” he started, hesitating. Suddenly he turned you back around and bent you forward over the arm of the couch. He flipped your skirt up and smacked your ass. “I want this pretty hole back here,” he said.

“Mmm, yes please, Binnie,” you said as you wiggled your ass.

“Stay still,” he commanded as he smacked your ass again. And then he was gone.

You looked over at Chan, stroking his cock, his focus still on you.

“Channie, come over here,” you pat the spot on the couch in front of you. He got up, never stopping his strokes, and came to sit where you asked him to. You leaned up from where you were still bent over and he met you halfway for a sloppy kiss, his tongue pushing into your mouth.

You heard Changbin return. You looked back as he rubbed your ass. He had lube and a condom. He slid a finger into your pussy, gathering slick. He brought his finger to your asshole and started teasing it. You held your breath, waiting for the intrusion.

“Relax, love,” Chan said as he caressed your face. You looked up at him and he gave you a reassuring smile. “Remember, just relax and it’ll go a lot smoother.”

Anal was new for you. Something you had only let these 3 men experience with you. And with such little time to actually do any of these acts, it had only been done a couple of times. But they were so good to you. They were gentle and coached you through it all, Channie being diligent to learn all he could to make it easiest on you.

You nodded and started taking slow, deep breaths.

“Do you still wanna do this,” Changbin asked from behind you.

“Yes,” you answered.

“Okay. Just breathe,” Changbin said and he slowly pushed his finger in.

Your breath hitched from the foreign and almost painful feeling.

“Breathe, baby, breathe,” Han soothed as he came to your side. He knelt down next to Changbin and lazily rubbed your clit and fingered your pussy to ease the tension in your body. Chan rubbed soothing circles on your back and Changbin pumped his finger in and out of your hole.

You continued your breathing exercises. Slow and deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth, you coached yourself. You felt your body relax and Changbin did too.

“Ready for another,” he asked.

You took a few more breathes and nodded.

“Y/n’s ready,” Chan told Changbin.

“Okay. Here we go,” he said as he pushed a second finger in, letting you adjust for a moment before moving in and out of you again.

This addition went in much easier. You were starting to whine from Han’s fingers and you rock your hips forward, trying to get more. Changbin smacked your ass in response.

“Yah! Stay still! I still have to get a third finger in you before you can take me,” he scolded.

“Well, then, hurry please! I’m ready for a third finger,” you wiggled your ass back towards him. The feelings had moved past somewhat painful and uncomfortable to more pleasurable. He squeezed your ass cheek with his free hand in response.

“Okay, bunny, okay. Here.” And with that you were stuffed with 3 fingers. You moaned as the 3rd one went in.

“More, Binnie. I need mooorre,” you moaned.

“More? You can’t take any more. I barely got these 3 in,” he teased.

“Bin- ooohh,” your own moaning cut you off as fingers pumped in and out of your pussy and your asshole at a faster pace. “Binniiieee!” you whined. “Your cock, I need your cock!”

“My cock? Is that what my bunny needs?” he teased.

“Yes! Please, Binnie baby?”

“Well, since my bunny asked so sweetly.” You felt him remove his fingers and then felt his tip press against you.

“Just remember to breathe, love,” Chan said as Changbin pushed his thick cock into your ass.

Your breath hitched again. He was a bit bigger than 3 fingers and there was a sting. He stopped moving to let you adjust.

“You okay, bunny?” Changbin asked, always concerned for you.

You waited a moment before answering, waiting until the sting had passed. “Yes, Binnie, I’m okay. Continue please.”

He slowly pushed more of himself in until he bottomed out. You moaned as he drew back and pushed in again. Han moved his fingers in time with Changbin.

“Fuck,” you heard Chan say and you looked up at him.

“Mmm?” you asked him, unable to actually use words.

“Look at you. You’re so fucking beautiful. Eyes glossy, pretty lips hanging open, tits bouncing. Can I take a picture?” he asked.

You nodded and pulled his phone out of his pocket, aiming it at you as the flash went off. He turned it around to show you and you laughed. You looked hot, just as he described you. But what got you was Changbin standing behind you, shirtless and biting his lip… and Han’s hand coming up from the side, throwing a peace sign.

“I want that picture, hyung,” you heard Han say.

“Later,” Chan replied as he tossed his phone down on the other side of the couch.

“M’ere,” you managed to get out between moans, looking up at Channie.

He scooted closer to you on the couch until his dick was under your head. You moved one hand to his thigh to use as leverage and keep yourself from falling face first into said dick and you used your other hand to spread Channie’s leaking precum up and down before taking him in your mouth. You took him as far as you could and used your hand to pump what you couldn’t reach.

Changbin had picked up his pace and you moaned around Chan’s cock every time Binnie thrust back into you. Chan gathered your hair in a makeshift ponytail so he could watch you.

“Fuck,” Chan grunted. “Hurry up, Bin. I’m gonna cum soon if y/n keeps sucking me like this and I don’t want to. I want to cum with that tight little pussy wrapped around my cock.”

Grunting was all you heard from Changbin as he thrust faster and harder in your tight asshole.

“Fuck. Yeah- yeah. I’m gonna cum. Fuuuck,” he whined as his hips stuttered and he came with a final thrust.

As Binnie came, you moaned around Chan’s cock again. You could feel more precum spurting out and Chan used his grip on your hair to pull you off of him. “I’m not coming unless it’s in your pussy,” he growled.

Changbin leaned over you and peppered kisses along your spine. “So good for Binnie. So good for us,” you heard him mumble.

“Come here,” Chan commanded. Bin slid out from behind you and Han, who had not stopped fingering you yet, finally removed his fingers from your pussy.

You stood up and moved in front of Chan. He slid his pants and boxers off and rolled on the condom that Han had tossed him. He leaned forward and put his hands on the back of your thighs, pulling you towards him. He undid the zipper on your skirt and helped you step out of it. He kissed your hips and across your pelvis and you ran your fingers through his hair. He sighed contentedly and pulled back, leaning back against the couch.

“Come here, love,” he commanded again, holding out his hand to give you support as you moved to straddle him. “You’re gonna be good and ride me, right?”

“Yes, Channie,” you said as you got situated.

“You’re so good to us. Isn’t y/n good to us, boys?” Chan asked the others, lining himself up with your entrance. You whimpered as you felt his tip push against you.

“Yes,” you heard them say in unison.

“My baby is the best baby,” Han added.

“That’s right,” Chan said as he roughly thrust up into you. You cried out, grabbing his shoulders to stop from toppling over and Chan gripped your hips tightly, his fingers digging in. “Y/n” *thrust* “is so” *thrust* “good” *thrust* “to us.” *thrust*

Chan moved your hips. “You said you were going to ride me, love, so ride.”

You did as you were told, rocking back and forth, up and down.

“Yeah, just like that,” Chan groaned as he threw his head back against the couch, exposing his neck. You leaned forward to kiss his neck, the tip of your tongue pressing against his flesh before your lips closed around it.

Chan moaned as you sucked on his neck. You had your boobs pressed firmly to his own chest and he could feel your nipples rubbing against him as you moved. He moved his hands from your hips to your tits, taking them in his big hands. You moved back so he could get to them easier and he took the opportunity to bring them to his mouth, encircling one nipple with his lips as he sucked and ran his tongue over it. He pinched the other between his fingers.

Now it was your turn to throw your head back as you moaned. You threaded your fingers through Chan’s hair, holding him against you.

Chan moved his mouth to your other nipple and moved his hand down to your cunt, rubbing your clit, pinching it lightly and then rubbing again.

“Fuuuck! Yes, Channie, just like thaaat! I’m so cloooosse!” you moaned.

Chan snaked his other hand around your neck and in your hair, removing his mouth from your nipple so he could pull you into a kiss. He leaned back against the couch, and you loomed over him as your tongues clashed together and you ground your pussy down on him. Both of your moans muffled by your lips, you held on to him, hands threaded in his soft hair.

“I’m gonna cum,” Chan mumbled against your lips as he worked your clit faster. “Cum with me, love.”

You nodded vigorously, lips never disconnecting.

Your body went rigid as you came, your hands tightening in Channie’s hair. Chan kept working your clit but moved his other hand from your hair to your hip to hold you steady as he thrust into you a couple of times, groaning into your mouth as he came.

Chan slowed his fingers on your clit as you came down. You leaned your forehead in the crook of his neck, your breathing coming back to normal. Chan rubbed circles on your thighs with his thumbs.

“Fuck, love. I’ve missed that.” Chan moved to pepper kisses along your collarbone, up your neck, along your jaw, and back to your lips. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smile at him. You slide off of Chan and he groans from the stimulation. You turn around to find Changbin and Han back in joggers. Changbin greets you with a kiss and then kneels down in front of you with a wet washcloth. He’s gentle as he cleans you up. Once done, Han hands you an oversized t-shirt, it hangs down to your mid thighs. You stumble into him as you put it on, legs weak from the activities, and he laughs as he catches you.

“Baby, be careful,” he says before kissing you. You lean your head on his shoulder as he holds you for a few moments.

“Sit down, love. Stretch your legs out,” you hear Chan say from behind you. You turn to look at him and he’s back on the couch in joggers too. Han moves to sit next to him in the middle and Changbin sits on the far end. Chan opens his arms for you and you sit in his lap, legs stretched across over Han and Changbin. Changbin starts massaging your feet and Han’s absentmindedly drawing shapes on your thighs with his finger.

You turn your attention back to the movie. It’s last few scenes and the murderer is killing the pretty girl in daisy dukes.

“I knew she was going to die,” you comment.

“Psycho,” Han calls you again, making Changbin and Chan chuckle.

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thebibliosphere · 5 days

Text

This is likely the result of having too many WIPS on the go all at once, but I need you to know last night, I had a dream where Alfred from the Pennyworth series was in my Batmuppet universe, and the hilarious mental image of that Alfred being in the absurdist, Wayne Family-esque technicolor puppet driven narrative I've been rotating in my head for months is so, so funny to me.

Like sure, Miami and London both got nuked, and the UK still has public executions, but here's Bruce Wayne and his gaggle of kids on Sesame Street. Have fun. Also, the Muppets are filming a skit in Wayne Manor. Would Alfred like to be part of it?

'Course he fucking would. Out of his way, cunts, he's got some felt puppets to outshine. Everyone else might be acting like they're in a cartoon, but he's going to treat it like Shakespeare. He's going full Muppet Christmas Carol on this one.

#batmuppet #pennyworth #batman #I have so many batman wips right now lmao #truly is the hyperfixation that keeps on giving

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aynavaano · 13 days

Text

Beautifully blind

Tech x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 4.6k

Summary:

Ever since you joined the Bad Batch you had your eyes on Tech, he is everything you could possibly want, soft, intelligent, caring but also strong and protective. You’ve been flirting with him for a while without any response and gave up thinking he is just not interested in you. But one day when you are left alone working on one of his modifications on the Marauder together it turns out the whole time you were speaking a language he didn’t understand.

Notes:

I really really miss Tech in S3 so I wanted to write some sweet soft smut with him. This work is inspired by “The beginners guid to Osculation” but I took things a bit further…

It’ a first time sex fic Tech x F!reader. Reader is experienced and in love with him. There is fingering, oral (f and m recieving) and unprotected sex but also a lot of fluff. It’s my first time writing Tech and a hope he is not too OOC.

You and Tech are standing in the Cockpit of the Marauder, fiddling with some cables, hanging from a wall panel, together just as Crosshair, Wrecker, and Hunter prepare for another supply run. It's been a few rotations since your arrival here, the Marauder carefully concealed in a secluded forestry patch a few klicks away from the next settlement. During this time, you've managed some much needed repairs and some of Techs planned modifications, as well as restocking on supplies. While the last supply run was a joint effort, today you and Tech decided to remain on the ship finishing his latest project and preparing for your departure, as there's little left to gather from the nearby town. Just when they're about to leave you overhear Crosshair boast to his brothers about his plans to fuck the girl from the market again, telling them they don’t need to wait for him on the way back because he’s planning to take his sweet time with her, a smug grin adorning his face, as always and a toothpick dangling in the corner of his mouth. As they make their way out Wrecker pats Crosshairs shoulder jolting him a step forward and they all burst into laughter, leaving you and Tech alone in the cockpit.

You caught a fleeting glimpse of disappointment, perhaps even a hint of sadness, in Tech's eyes at Crosshairs words and try not to think about it too much, but you can’t ignore it, you care too much about him. After silently working alongside him for a while, handing him tools and lending a hand you approach him cautiously. "Tech," you start, "I couldn't help but notice your reaction to Crosshair talking about the girl from the market. Were you... also into her?"

"What brought you to that conclusion?" he asks hesitantly, tilting his head towards you, his voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty.

"I saw your face when Crosshair mentioned her, you seemed disappointed or even sad," you say, breaking the uncomfortable silence that hung between you for a moment. He doesn't respond immediately, the weight of your observation sinking in.

To ease the tension, you quickly add, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. It's none of my business," before turning back to continue working on the panel. After a moment, Tech sighs and let’s his arms sink down, his gaze fixed on a distant point as he gathers his thoughts.

"It's not about that particular girl," he begins, his voice tinged with vulnerability, "but rather that I have never experienced the kind of intimacy Crosshair was referring to." He pauses, struggling to articulate his feelings. "It's always my brothers that succeed in getting a woman because it is extremely difficult for me to understand the subtle signs and the body language of someone I am attracted to, even if I've did a lot of research about the topic. I have accepted it but sometimes, when they brag about their experiences it’s difficult for me"

His confession catches you off guard, and you look at him with wide eyes, trying to comprehend his revelation. "Are you saying you've never been with someone... in that way?" you ask, your voice filled with disbelief.

Tech nods solemnly. "Correct, that's exactly what I said," he confirms. The realization hits you like a blaster shot to your guts – the handsome, beautiful man before you, that you’ve been admiring for such a long time, has seemingly never had the chance to experience any kind of sexual activities, and has accepted it as his fate.

"You're telling me you're a virgin?" you blurt out, startled by the revelation.

"I don't particularly like that word, but yes, that is the proper term that would apply to me," Tech responds, his expression vulnerable yet resolute. "However, to be precise, there was one incident where my brothers tried to pair me off with a woman, but I stopped it immediately, it felt extremely uncomfortable." He pauses, reflecting on his research. "For some people, it seems to be pleasant to have casual sexual encounters, while others prefer to have an emotional connection to their sexual partner. I think the latter applies to me, it needs to be with someone I know, someone I feel safe with, and am more than just attracted to in a physical way." He admit, his vulnerability shining through as he reveals, "Someone like you," the last bit of his sentence, slipping from his lips before his mind can stop him.

You almost choke on your breath, caught off guard by Tech's unexpected confession, but a giggle escapes your lips nonetheless. However, the lighthearted moment is quickly replaced by a look of embarrassment on his face. He tries to compose himself, his words stumbling out as he apologizes, "I'm… sorry,… I shouldn't have said that. Please don't ridicule me for it. I may process moments and thoughts differently, but it does not mean that I feel any less than you." He hesitates before continuing, "You don't have to say anything. I know I would never have a chance with you,"

"Oh Tech," you respond softly, reaching out to gently touch his arm. "I've not been laughing at you. I just couldn't grasp what you were saying, and how beautifully blind we both seem to be. I've been into you since forever, literally since I became part of the crew, and I've been trying to flirt with you for months, but I thought you were just not interested in me, so I gave up and let you be, because I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable."

Tech's eyes widen in surprise at your confession. "I... I thought you were... maybe interested in Wrecker because you recently spent so much time together," he admits, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

"Oh, but that's just because Hunter wanted me to learn more about explosives, that's why, you know how bad I am with handling that kind of stuff," you explain, hoping to clear up any misunderstandings.

"Undoubtedly I see why Hunter ordered that, you almost killed us all on Onderon with that thermal detonator. I’m relieved to know you’re taking care of it” he says, adjusting his goggles to have a better look at you. You giggle gazing up at him, almost loosing yourself in his beautiful brown eyes.

“The thought never crossed my mind that someone like you would be attracted to me like that," Tech confesses, his tone tinged with self-doubt. "While I exceed my brothers in many aspects, this is a particular field where I never stood a chance against them. I see the signs, but I cannot interpret them. I observed that you've come closer to me, you are touching my arm and that your face has slightly reddened, indicating an accelerated heartbeat, but I don't know how to proceed with that information."

"Tech... stop talking," you hesitantly interject, inching a little closer to him and seeking his gaze. "Do you want to kiss me?"

Your heart races as you feel the tension building between you, his eyes locking onto yours, a sense of understanding flickering over his features.

"Yes, I would very much like that," he responds earnestly, his voice filled with anticipation. "I am positive that you already know that I am recording everything, but I want your consent if I keep recording. Will you let me?" he adds slightly nervous.

You nod in agreement, giving him the permission he seeks.

"Do you want me to kiss you, or do you want to begin?" you inquire, seeking his preference.

He pauses for a moment before expressing his desire for you to initiate the kiss and guide him.

With a soft smile, glancing up at him seeking his gaze you lean in and wrap your arms around his neck. Gently, you pull his head slightly down towards you, tilting yours upwards, eyes shut, closing the gap between your lips. It's a soft kiss, yet filled with a hunger, hoping to leave him wanting more. His lips are incredibly soft and your body starts to tingle a bit by the realization that you are really kissing Tech, it’s not another one of your daydreams, he is right here in your arms.

He doesn’t respond to the kiss, but he allows you to kiss him for a little bit longer and when you part, you notice his dilated pupils and feel the rapid beat of his heart against his chest. ”How did that feel?” you whisper, as your eyes meet, arms still wrapped around him.

"I very much enjoy how my body reacts to you, unfamiliar but very pleasant," he admits, his voice tinged with awe and slightly out of breath.

"Do you want more?" you offer selfishly, glancing up at him with a smile. He nods eagerly in response.

Encouraged, you kiss him again, now with a bit more passion. And this time he instantly responds, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer, his lips eagerly moving against yours. You brush your tongue against his lower lip and he opens up letting you in. You can barely control yourself anymore and when your tongues meet you feel the heat rising in your body, pooling between your legs. “Tech..” you moan softly, not parting the kiss.

Suddenly, he picks you up maneuvering you to the other side of the cockpit and onto the control panel of the Marauder. You instinctively wrap your legs around him, feeling the subtle pressure of his growing arousal against you. The intensity of the moment causes him to break the kiss, gasping for air as he tries to compose himself.

You gently cup his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, and ask, “Do you want to try more than just kissing?” His eyes flicker with uncertainty, and you try to voice it more clearly, “Do you want to have sex with me Tech?”

His response is eager, almost breathless, as he nods and replies, “Yes, I want.”

With a sense of anticipation coursing through you, you don’t wait any longer an swiftly discard your shirt, revealing the contours of your body to him. His gaze lingers, wide-eyed, on your bare chest, and you feel a rush of excitement at his reaction. “Touch me,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath, inviting him to explore you further.

He hesitates, his hand trembling slightly as he reaches out, his fingers tracing the curve of your cheek before trailing down to your chest. As his fingers gently slide over your nipple, a soft gasp escapes your lips, eliciting a smile from him. “I very much like that sound,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a hint of wonder.

With a tentative question in his eyes, he asks, “Can I kiss you there?” You nod in response, a mixture of anticipation and desire coursing through you. Slowly, he leans in, his lips brushing against your skin as he trails soft kisses down your neck, lingering at the curve of your breast. Each touch sends shivers down your spine, and you can't help but let out a few more soft moans, encouraging him to continue. He slowly gets more courageous exploring you and begins to suck one of you hardened nipples into his mouth eliciting even more gasps and moans from you. It feels like he is enjoying to test what kind of sounds he can get out of you.

Trying not to break from his touch you wiggle yourself out of your pants, leaving you clad only in your little satin panties, grateful that you put one of the nicer ones on this morning. His eyes widen with a mixture of excitement and nervousness as he takes in the sight of you before him, his gaze roaming over your exposed skin, drinking in every curve and contour.

“Explore my body, Tech,” you urge him, your voice filled with longing. His fingers trace over your skin, trailing along the inside of your thighs, hesitating slightly as they brush over the soaked fabric of your panties, already dampened by your arousal. "I studied some publications about female arousal," he begins, his voice laced with curiosity, "telling from the level of wetness I assume you enjoy this a lot. Is it because you haven’t been with someone in a while? I understood that once you tried and enjoyed sexual activities, it can become something of a need?"

A soft chuckle escapes your lips at his earnestness, and you reply, "It’s not because I need it, Tech. It’s because I want it, because I want you. Your touch and your kisses caused that."

"Interesting," he remarks, his tone thoughtful as if he's processing the information. At your instruction, he carefully removes your panties, his excitement undeniable as he takes in the sight of you naked body before him. His gaze roams over you, exploring every inch of your nakedness, before he drops to his knees to get a better view.

"Touch me," you encourage him, leaning over the control panel, pressing a button to seal the entrance to the cockpit, just in case the others come back earlier than expected. With eager anticipation, he trails his fingers over your slick folds, the slightest touch sending shivers of pleasure through you. He slides one finger between your outer lips, gently parting them, his movements cautious yet purposeful, and he asks, "Is that ok?"

"You don’t have to ask for my consent anymore, Tech," you reassure him, your desire evident in your voice. "I want this. I want you."

With that assurance, he very carefully begins to slide a finger into you, and you moan softly at the sensation, encouraging him to continue. Another finger follows suit, and he begins to move hesitantly, exploring the depths of your warm core. It feels incredible, his touch igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume you entirely.

So many months you had spent fantasizing about something like this, but after he didn’t react to your flirting attempts you gave up and now you are here, completely naked, spread all over the control panel, with Tech between your legs and his fingers pushing into you.

He curls his fingers up, finding that sweet, soft spot that sends waves of extra strong pleasure coursing through your body and you can't help but cry out his name. His touch is intoxicating, each movement bringing you closer to the edge of an orgasm.

Feeling yourself on the brink, you gasp, "Tech, I won’t last long if you keep doing that." He hesitates for a moment, unsure what to do, but you encourage him to continue. "No, it’s good. I just… you will make me cum very quickly if you keep doing that," you assure him, your voice filled with desire.

Surprised but delighted by your response, Tech eagerly returns to his attention to your core. "Oh, I would love to give you an orgasm if you let me," he admits, his enthusiasm undeniable. You nod “Please” and with your consent, he thrust back into you, his fingers moving with purpose and determination.

Leaning in closer, he focuses his attention on your clit, his tongue adding a new dimension to the pleasure. It's a revelation, the intensity building with each thrust of his fingers, you cant believe he’s never done that before, but then again he is the man that knows everything.

You feel your body tensing up already and it takes only a few more flicks of his tongue against your clit before you cum. Stars shatter before your eyes and it feels incredibly good to ride out your orgasm on his fingers, your body trembling with the force of your release. You moan his name, lost in the pleasure pulsing through you, your head thrown back, eyes rolling in bliss.

Looking up at you in awe, Tech savors the sight before him. He's completely captivated by the way your body responds to his touch, determined not to miss a single moment of it.

After you slowly descend from the heights of your orgasm, he carefully slides his finger out of you and rises to his feet, standing before you. You lean up and press your lips to his. "Do you want me to explore your body?" you inquire, and he eagerly nods in response. You gracefully slip from the control panels, your eyes locked on him as he swiftly sheds his armor with practiced hands. When he's down to the bottom of his blacks, you gently guide him backward into the pilot's seat, a silent invitation for him to surrender to your touch.

You approach him with a mix of excitement and tenderness, fully aware that this is his first experience and taking care not to overwhelm him. You position yourself between his legs, one hand trailing over his chest and you leave a few heated kisses on his neck before you kneel down, your eyes lock with his, offering reassurance. "Relax, Tech. Let me take care of you," you say softly.

With a slow and deliberate hand, you begin to undo his pants, revealing his evident arousal. Your gaze flickers to his cock, noting its impressive length and girth, feeling a surge of desire as you prepare to pleasure him. Slowly taking him into your mouth, you start with gentle movements, savoring the taste of him as you explore each inch of his beautiful thick cock.

Tech's breath catches in his throat as you work him, his fingers tightening on the armrests. "Do you like how it feels?" you murmur, your voice a soft hum against his sensitive skin. He manages to nod, his expression a mix of pleasure and wonder as you continue.

Adjusting your pace, you find a rhythm that suits him, teasing and tantalizing as you build his arousal. With each movement, you feel him growing harder beneath your touch, his hips shifting instinctively to meet your mouth. "I…I’m close," he gasps, his voice strained with desire.

Despite the temptation to push him over the edge just now and see his beautiful brown eyes flutter, you hold back, knowing that you want to give him more. With a loving smile, you ease off, allowing him a moment to catch his breath. "Not yet," you whisper, your voice laced with anticipation. “I would like to ride you, do you want that?”

Tech's eyes widen with surprise and need as he understands what you want to do. With a hungry look in his eyes, he nods eagerly.

You rise from your knees, moving with purpose as you straddle his lap, positioning yourself above him. With a delicate touch, you guide his throbbing cock to the entrance of your slick, wet core, feeling the anticipation building between you. The pressure of his length against you already sends shivers down your spine, aching with desire for more. "Are you ready?" you whisper, your breath hot against his ear as you pepper his neck with soft kisses. Unable to speak, Tech nods eagerly, his eyes filled with longing as he awaits your next move.

As you lower yourself onto him, a wave of pleasure washes over you, his thick cock stretching you in all the right ways. You moan with satisfaction, relishing in the sensation of being filled by him. Tech's heartbeat quickens beneath you, his shallow breaths echoing the intensity of the moment. "Breathe, Tech," you murmur, planting tender kisses along his jawline, allowing him a moment to adjust to the feeling of being inside you.

With a slow, deliberate pace, you begin to move, rising and falling on his length, each stroke sending waves of pleasure coursing through both of you. Tech's composed facade begins to crack, his control slipping away as he succumbs to the ecstasy of your union. You enjoy to see him slowly coming undone in front of you. Tech, who is always in control, always composed is coming undone. And you love that you can do that to him.

As you increase your rhythm, Tech's hands find hold on your waist, his touch grounding you as you ride him. You brace yourself against his shoulders, granting him a beautiful view of your bouncing breasts right before his face, fueling his desire even further. You feel him tensing up, his cock pressing even harder against your walls with every move. “It’s okay Tech” you reassure him, “cum inside me”urging him to let go and release within you.

You lean down to leave a few kisses and gentle bites along his neck, increasing your pace further and it doesn’t take long until he succumbs to the overwhelming pleasure, his cock pulsating within you as he spills his warm cum deep inside your core. The sensation of him filling you up is so overwhelmingly good it triggers another orgasm, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. You cry out his name as you clench around him, the intensity of your orgasm echoing his own. He looks at you in awe by the sensation of your pussy tightening around his cock. Collapsing onto his chest, you both bask in the aftermath, your bodies entwined and slick with sweat, lost in the euphoria of your connection.

Tech catches his breath first, his chest rising and falling as he composes himself. "I would enjoy doing that again sometime," he admits, his voice filled with a hint of longing but also uncertainty.

You smile warmly, reassurance in your eyes as you reply, "Whenever you want, Tech. I'm yours." Leaning in, you press your lips against his, a soft and tender kiss filled with promise. “I love you,” you whisper, your words carrying the weight of your affection.

As his softened cock slowly begins to slip out of you, you feel his warm cum dripping from your core onto the seat beneath you. "I should clean that up before we make a mess here," you remark, a playful glint in your eyes as you glance down at the evidence of your shared passion.

Tech nods in agreement, his gaze lingering on you as he gestures towards the fresher. "Go on. I'll take care of the cockpit," he offers, his tone gentle yet determined, showing his willingness to share the responsibilities.

Before you can leave, he pulls you close, his lips capturing yours in a deep and passionate kiss. "Thank you," he murmurs against your lips, his gratitude evident in his touch as he expresses his appreciation for your connection.

"For what?" you wonder, eager to understand the depth of his emotions.

"For communicating with me in a way that I understand," he explains, his words resonating with sincerity as he acknowledges the significance of your connection and the efforts you've made to bridge any gaps in understanding.

With a smile and a soft kiss, you accept his gesture, making your way to the fresher, mindful not to leave a trail of cum behind as you prepare to clean up. As you go, you're filled with a sense of contentment, knowing that despite any challenges, you and Tech have found a way to connect deeply, both physically and emotionally.

When you tap out of the fresher, all cleaned up, clothes back on, you are relieved to see that the others seemingly still haven’t returned, giving you and Tech a little more time together. Glancing over at the cockpit, you notice it looks nice and clean, as if nothing had happened. Satisfied, you step outside the Marauder and find Tech sitting in the low grass, his datapad in hand and connected to his ears. He smiles at you, and you can't help but return the smile as you approach him.

"What are you doing?" you inquire, curiosity lacing your tone.

"I'm listening to the sounds you made," he responds, a happy glance in his eyes. Your cheeks flush at his words, and he chuckles softly. "I enjoy this very much, it's already my favorite recording."

He pulls you in for a kiss, and you melt into his embrace, feeling a sense of warmth and affection wash over you. You make yourself comfortable in the grass next to him and he hands you a cup of fresh caff, asking if you feel good.

"Haven’t felt so good in a while…and thank you for cleaning up the cockpit," you express your gratitude, but a hint of worry creeps into your voice. "But I guess that Hunter will smell it anyway. He can smell a Bantha ten klicks against the wind."

Tech laughs, reassuring you. "That is precisely right, but don't worry. I spilled some caff to cover up the scent for now. However, we will need to tell them eventually that we…we…”

“…had sex in Hunters ship and will continue to do so?” you offer to finish the sentence with a wide grin on your face.

“That we are engaging in a romantic relationship. And that is MY ship" he corrects you. “But I fear their response to this news will not be that elated at first.”

You furrow your brows in concern, prompting him to explain further. "Why do you think your brothers won't be happy for you, Tech?"

He adjusts his goggles, his expression thoughtful. "Because shortly after you became part of our crew, they made a bet on who would get… who would succeed in having sex with you first. And the bet was not on me. And not on a relationship either, rather on a more... casual encounter."

"Who was it?" you ask, curious to know the outcome.

Tech sighs, his gaze dropping momentarily. "On Crosshair. It was on Crosshair. I bet on him too. Statistically, he has the highest success rate, so it was a safe bet... I thought."

You chuckle softly, realizing the implications, of course it was Crosshair. "Well, that will dent his ego a bit, but he'll survive it," you laugh, needless to say Crosshair is a handsome man with an aura that is best described as intense but he’s just not your type, you prefer soft and nerdy but lethal, and sometimes a bit unhinged, just like the beautiful man sitting beside you.

Feeling a sense of content wash over you, you happily lean into Tech, resting your head on his chest as you revel in the comfort and security of his embrace.

Shouldn't we finish the modification we abandoned?" you inquire, gazing up at the sky.

"I would much rather enjoy the time with you out here," Tech responds, his voice filled with warmth. "It is not often that we are on a planet where the atmosphere is breathable, meteorological conditions are predominantly pleasant, and there is no extremely hostile wildlife that we have to pay attention to. Besides, with your help, I can quickly finish the modification later. We will need to learn to enjoy the moments we get together without my brothers, as they will be scarce."

You gaze up at him in awe, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over you as you cuddle closer to him. "Well,if we have time, then tell me everything you know about those little fuzzy creatures up there jumping around in the trees," you say, pointing towards the playful fury animals in the distance.

He smiles down at you, his eyes reflecting fondness. "Gladly," he responds, before leaning in to give you the softest, most loving kiss.

As he begins to speak, his voice takes on the tone of a database, filled with information about the local wildlife. You've always loved animals and listening to Tech talking for hours about the local wildlife and its possible dangers or benefits during missions has fascinated you each time. But now, wrapped in his arms, experiencing this as private lecture and stealing a few kisses in between is the best feeling in the galaxy

#the bad batch #star wars #tbb #tbb tech #bad batch fanfic #tbb fanfiction #tech x reader #tech x you

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peachesofteal · 1 year

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Same pairing as "I got you". When I first wrote these, I also wrote a hefty chunk of an entire Simon Riley series that just ended up sitting in my drafts. I've been editing it slowly and now it's being uploaded.

Simon Riley/female reader Part of the Sassy series - 4.2k words - AO3 Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, pregnancy, pregnant reader, blow job, praise kink, blood, violence, injury, PTSD, anxiety, trust issues. Simon is bad at feelings. Soap is a good friend. POV switches. Soap gives Simon a picture.

There’s a gun in your nightstand. You don’t use it, ever. You don’t need it, haven’t needed it, haven’t touched it. You think, after the baby comes, you’ll put it away for good. Bury it in a locked box somewhere beneath a pile of boxes in the basement.

Speaking of boxes, you’re standing in a sea of them. Different boxes for different parts of the crib, dresser, and little bookshelf. The old recliner you used to have downstairs is up here now, nestled in the corner next to where you think you’re going to put the crib. It’s not a rocking chair, but it will have to do. It’s a sage green, the soft hue calming to your nerves, which you think helps the baby. Your baby, who the internet says is the size of a banana and can hear your heartbeat, who likes to kick you in your ribs at all hours of the night. You rub your palm over your belly as you shift your weight, staring down at the instructions for the wood paneling of the bookcase. You’re rotating the shiny paper in your hand, trying to understand which piece fits to which when your doorbell rings.

You frown. You weren’t expecting anyone. You didn’t really have friends, anyone who would visit.

Your mind wanders to the gun for a split second, but you shake it off. You’re home. You’re not in danger. There is nothing to fear. The mantra grounds you, solidifies you enough that you make your way down the stairs and peek through the peephole in the door.

When you see Soap’s face on the other side, you can practically feel your blood pressure drop.

“Hey, Johnny.” You say in greeting, face apprehensive. He lights up when you open the door, and then freezes like you’ve shot him.

“Sassafras.” He whispers in disbelief. You sigh, and step to the side.

“By yourself?” Soap stares at you like you’re nuts. You nod.

“Yeah… not like I could get in contact. Not like I wanted to, either.” He grimaces.

“So, he has no idea, you’re having his kid… you’re five months pregnant, and he doesn’t know.” You scoff.

“You make it sound like I’m helpless.” He looks from you to the pile of furniture pieces on the ground at your feet, and then to the screwdriver in his hand.

“You’re not helpless, lass.” He says softly, eyes sympathetic as they glance over your belly. “But this is a lot, for anyone to do alone.”

Later, you and Johnny sit on your back porch. He sips a beer; you drink a decaf iced tea. Bugs chirp in the grass of your little yard, the yellow glow of the string lights that you managed to get up twinkle above your heads.

“So, what’re you havin’?”

“It’s a boy.” You whisper, smile on your lips. You remembered when the doctor told you, remembered everything you felt when she said those three words. You were so… angry. How dare the universe give you a boy? How dare it give you the reminder, the carbon copy of a ghost.

Now, you’re not angry so much anymore. Only sometimes when you think about how he forced you away. How he ruined your rep with Price just to get rid of you. How he held you the last time, body pressed to yours, nose smashed against your cheek.

You’re not angry when you think about the baby. His son. Yours. You love him, already. You knew you loved him the day you decided you were going to keep him. He was your baby. Yours to love. To protect. You weren’t going to let the memories of his dad get in that way of that. You weren’t going to let yourself be haunted.

Johnny stays for a few days, sleeps on the couch. He helps you build the crib, and the dresser, and the bookshelf. You two spend the time catching up, reminiscing about the time you spent together, tromping halfway around the world.

“Trauma bonded.” You joke with an elbow to his stomach, on the good side. Not the side that he took the piece of shrapnel to that shredded his abdomen.

“Never thanked you that day. Saved my life.”

“You saved mine too. We’re even.”

When he says goodbye, you give him an ultrasound picture. You have a ton, at least six tacked to your fridge. You watch his eyes get a little misty, and you laugh.

“Come on Johnny. It’s just a picture.”

“Yeah. Of yours… and LT’s… kid.” He practically chokes on the last word, and you roll your eyes.

“Come back and see us, okay? Little guy will need an uncle.” His lips part and the he swallows before hectically nodding, sputtering promises about coming to visit as much as he can. He gives you a cell number, his, to call if you need anything or want to talk.

“Can’t imagine you’ll be available too often.” There’s no way. The 141 has a no contact rule, no communication. It’s for their safety, and everyone else’s. You both know this. He rubs his neck with a frown.

“Yah lass. But I’m still here if you need anything.” He gives you another hug before tucking the picture into a pocket and stepping off your front stoop.

If you had known what he was going to do with it, you would have never given it to him.

Simon parks two blocks away, worn print of a black blob in his hands. The edges are starting to fray, the two pieces peeling away from each other from overuse, being held too much. He’s been holding this picture in an iron grip for over a month, pulling it out from the pocket in his vest to stare at it until he forces himself to look away.

He remembers the night he got it, the night everything shifted, when the world tilted on its axis.

“LT.” Johnny had called to him that day, sought him out immediately after he got back. He didn’t want to see Johnny, didn’t want to hear what he had to say. He knew where he went. He knew he had wanted to visit you; see how you were doing.

See if you were okay. After what he did.

“I need her gone.” He had told Price, voice full of conviction. You were a distraction. A liability. Sure, you had every right to be there, but he didn’t care. He had seniority and he couldn’t think clearly. Couldn’t work. You were everywhere, in his mind, on his skin. He felt like he needed you. He tried to break himself of it at first, tried to cast you out. Disappeared on you without a word, hoping you’d give up on him. But after the bombing, the one that almost killed Johnny, and almost killed you, he couldn’t do it anymore. He could still hear the buzz of the comms, the dead silence echoing back to him when he called for you, over and over. It played on repeat in his nightmares. It dredged up old memories, reopened the scars in his mind of other losses, terrible losses that he’d never escape.

“Ghost.” Johnny’s voice was sharp, urgent. Like he sounds when something’s gone wrong. “LT, stop. I needa talk to ya.” Simon turns, stomach full of dread. He can’t place the expression on Johnny’s face. It’s grim, sure. But there’s something underneath that’s gleeful, excited. It puts him on edge, and he grunts.

“What?” There’s something in Johnny’s hand, a folded piece of paper, and he thrusts it into his chest. “What’s this?” It’s a picture of a blob with some dates at the top. There’s a name too, one he doesn’t recognize.

“Your son.”

Simon doesn’t remember a lot after that. He remembers finding a chair to slump over in, remembers staring at the ultrasound picture for a long time. Long enough that the sun went down, Johnny’s voice filtering in and out of his ears as he fought the rising panic in his chest. “- she’s doing okay but seems tired. She was trying to put the nursery together when I showed up-“ Nursery. A Nursery, like where a baby sleeps. A baby. His baby. His kid. Your kid. You were having his kid. “and she gets sick in the mornings, I could hear her throwing up from the couch but other than that she says she’s got it handled. I think-“ You were having his baby. You were making him a…. father. His mind stumbled over the word. Buried memories of his own father fought to rise to the surface, and vomit tried to crawl up his mouth. His lungs felt like they were drowning in concrete. His ears were suddenly ringing. “Ghost?” Johnny reached for his shoulder, and he pushed him away, harder than he needed to. “Whoa. Hey, LT.”

“Johnny. Shut the hell up.”

He spent the next month with the picture tucked close to his chest. He pulls it out at night, or when he’s sitting in the same spot for an extended period of time, waiting. He stares at the image, trying to work out if those are toes, or fingers, or a face. He wonders if you’re okay, if you’re taking care of yourself, if you need him. He stares at your name printed at the top, the name that he didn’t know, until now. The one you never wanted to give him, and he never understood why.

“You don’t show me your face.” you countered him one night after he made you come until you lost count, and he glowered in response, lips still wet with the taste of your cunt. The truth was, he wanted to show you his face. Wanted to take you away from the god-awful city the 141 was working through, hide you away somewhere safe and show you his face, let you memorize it the way he memorized yours.

He realized, with a carnivorous pit opening in his stomach, since he knew your name now, he could find you.

And if he could find you, others might be able to, too.

He parked two blocks away because he didn’t want to spook you. He didn’t think you’d take too kindly to a stranger pulling into your driveway at night, and he figured you’d take less kindly if that stranger was him. So, he walks. He walks down your street, eyes cataloging every house on the block, every car. Which houses have soccer nets and toys in the yard. What the speed limit was. When the last time the street had been paved or had its potholes patched. He listens to how many dogs are barking, how many engines are starting or already running. He distracts himself with it, the awareness, until he’s stepping up onto your stoop, hand hovering above your doorbell.

When you open the door, your mouth goes slack, and you stare at him like you’re seeing a ghost. He swallows, throat dry, words jammed behind his tongue. You look… off. Different. Sick. You’ve got dark circles under your eyes, and you seem exhausted.

“Simon.” You say, voice half a whisper. He’s about to say hi, say sorry, say ‘can I come in?’ when he looks the rest of you over quickly and sees your belly for the first time. It’s swollen behind a sweatshirt that’s just a little bit too big, and he watches as your hand moves to rest on top of it protectively.

“Sass.” He croaks. You sigh.

“Want to come in?”

You’re dreaming of a memory. You know you are. You remember, this, this night, like it just happened yesterday. You’re on your knees, crowded against Ghost in a shitty dive bar bathroom. The music is thumping loudly through the walls, the floor sticking to your boots.

“Thas’ it.” He mumbles, hand folding over your hair as you rock back and forth. Your mouth is stuffed full of him, lips stretched and cracked, drool dripping down your chin. So full, you can’t even flatten your tongue against your molars, but you think he likes the scrape by the way he groans every time he touches the back of your throat. “Bloody hell, Sass.” His fingers flexed against your scalp, and you feel the muscles is his legs tightening. He’s close, you can feel it, so you swallow him deeper until your eyes are leaking tears and he’s panting harshly. “That’s a good girl, just like that, so-“ He floods your throat with his come, salt and sweet and metallic filling your senses as it spills down into your stomach. He pulls you up to standing, pushing your back against the wall while he tucks himself back into his pants, and you’re about to tease him for being so quick off the mark when a fist pounds against the door, Soap’s voice on the other side.

“We got a hit.”

“Now?” you whisper, and Ghost shrugs. The 141 has been here for three weeks, tailing some small fish arms dealer, waiting for him to meet with his big fish buyer. He rights his mask, calloused fingers coming forward to adjust the collar of your shirt.

“You keep your eyes open for me, yeah?” His touch traces along your cheek, and there’s something wild running beneath the surface of his skin, something you can just barely see. You nod quickly.

“Yeah, Simon. I’ll keep em open.”

The dream shifts. You’re sprinting down the street behind little fish, after he got spooked and tried to take off. He ran in your direction. You were the only option.

“Northwest!” you spit into your comms, rapidly changing direction as he does. He turns left, and then right, and then left until you’re in an outdoor market, turning in a circle as you realize you lost sight of him.

“Sassy, report.” Price calls and you swallow against your heaving breaths.

“Lost him. I’m at… don’t know. Don’t have coordinates. Some outdoor market.”

“Roger. Make your way east, we’ll scoop you.” You sigh in relief. You were a bomb tech, not a sprinter, and certainly not a stealth operator. You give another cursory glance around before turning to leave.

That’s when the shots ring out. Small pings that turn into loud screams as people run in every direction. Inwardly, you groan, and find yourself wishing you were still on the sticky bathroom floor with Simon’s cock in your mouth. Instead, you’re out here, out of breath, dodging bullets.

You duck behind a stall to pull your gun free.

“I’m taking fire.” You speak into the comms, fidgeting with your gun as you hunch over.

“Repeat.” It’s Ghost. His voice is tense, strung tight.

“Taking-“ bullets whiz by you and you pause, but keep the line open. “fire. They’re on top of one of these buildings.” It’s radio silence for a few seconds as you crawl along the stalls, low to the ground. There’s an alley a good hundred feet away, and you definitely could make it.

“Hold your position, Sass.”

“Affirmative.” You sprint for the gap between buildings, pinning close to the wall and settling into a crouch, finger light on the trigger. You want to ask why you’re holding, but the answer comes when you hear responding fire, echo for echo against whoever’s on the roof. Price calls for you, seeking your location, and you answer quickly.

Two minutes later, Ghost is kneeling in front of you, gripping your tac vest and shoving you behind the blockade that is his body. He leads you out of the alley, steps slow and sure, confident… until you hear a pop, and then a shout.

The dream shifts, again. You’re standing in the med tent with your arms crossed while he’s getting a slug dug out of his shoulder, eyes tight behind the mask. He’s saying something to you, but the words are mush coming out of his mouth, slurred together and off beat. The medic gives him a nod when he leaves, and you release a breath

“I’m alright, Sass. It’s nothin’. C’mere.” A big hand finds yours. More words, jumbled nonsense.

A doorbell rings from behind you, towards the front of the med tent and you frown.

A doorbell.

Your eyes open and you sit up in bed, curling over your ever-present bump that seems to get in the way of everything right now. You had heard a doorbell, right? You pull the ratty old sweatshirt over your body and creep down the stairs to check the door. It’s ten o’clock at night, for Christ’s sake. Who could it be?

Fucking. Soap. You curse the Scot in your head. No good, piece of shit, sweetheart John MacTavish and his bleeding heart of gold, god damn him, you’re gonna-

Simon clears his throat behind you, from where he stands, his massive body shifting uncomfortably in your living room. You close your eyes and try to breathe through your nose. Anxiety builds in your stomach, fear prickling along your scalp. What does he want? A dark thought shudders through you, the realization that if Simon Riley wanted, he could take your son. He could wait you out, disappear with him, and never be seen again. Two ghosts.

“Simon-“

“Were you gonna tell me, Sass?” He has the gall to sound put out, indignant, and you take another deep breath to calm yourself.

“That’s a joke, right?” You turn, face pinched with irritation. “You know, maybe I could have told you, if you hadn’t gotten me fired, if you hadn’t gone and destroyed my credibility with Price.”

“You went on bloody leave, and your credibility is not destroyed.”

“Yeah, sure.” You roll your eyes and then take a second to look at him, closely. His massive legs are straining in a pair of jeans, black sweatshirt with a hood pulled over his head and the infamous balaclava. He’s not wearing the paint, which surprises you, but you keep it to yourself. He looks good, and your hormones rush in your blood.

You don’t care. Just deliver the speech and give him what he wants. The out.

“How-“ he starts but you cut him off. He’s not in control here, you are.

“Am I? Or how far along am I?” He says nothing. “I’m okay. And I’m just over six months.” Your hand strokes your belly almost subconsciously, trying to settle the incessant kicking. He tracks you with his eyes, watching your palm move back and forth. You sigh. “Do you want to sit?” You motion to the couch, and he nods, slowly, lowering himself down next to you, posture rigid and stiff. He looks so uncomfortable, you almost laugh. “Look, Ghost-“

“Simon.” Simon. His accent is thick when he corrects you, and something tightens in your heart.

“Simon, you don’t have to do this. We don’t need anything from you. You’re off the hook.” His head snaps from the clenched fists that sit in his lap to your face. “I can do this. You don’t even have to be on the birth certificate. I have it all handled.” Lie. You’re lying to him, straight to his face, but he doesn’t know that. You don’t want him to know that you don’t have it handled. That you could be on bedrest in a matter of weeks, that you’re sick all the time and your PTSD is lingering in the back of your mind like a monster, waiting for you, watching for the moment you break so it can devour you whole.

“Who’s we?” his question snaps you out of your spiral.

“What?”

“You said ‘we don’t need anything from you’, who’s we? Is there someone else?” The words cut. They’re sharp, expectant, and he takes another look around the house. You know he’s already catalogued it, already looked for signs of another, checked to see if anything was amiss. For a moment, you’re tempted to tell him there is someone else in your life, someone else in your bed. Someone holding your hand at all the appointments, someone rubbing your back as you chuck your entire stomach into the toilet every morning.

“N-no. It’s just me and-“

“Our son.” He finishes for you, and you close your eyes again against the swell of anger.

“My son.” You snap and if possible, his body gets even more tense. Your skin crawls under the sweatshirt and you stand abruptly, desperate to put distance between the two of you. “He’s my son, my baby. You haven’t been here; you have no right to just waltz in here like nothing’s wrong or like you have some claim to him.”

“I put him in ya, Sass. He’s my kid too.” Your breath catches in your throat. His entitlement burns in your blood, and you want to lash out. You have half a mind to hit him, strike him as hard as you can in hopes that maybe he’ll get the hint and leave you alone.

“You screwed me, Ghost.” You hiss his call sign, reverting back to it, distancing yourself from the man behind the mask. “I don’t know why you’re even here. You used me, then you treated me like trash and kicked me to the curb. Don’t pretend like you care now.” He stands from the couch, fingers raking down his thighs. You take a step back immediately.

“I wronged you. I know you hate me, but we should talk about-“

“Don’t. Just, let’s not do this, okay? We’re fine without you. We’re okay on our own. You don’t have to be here.” Silence fills the air between you two, and you curl your fingers into fists before you turn on your heel and stalk into the kitchen. Your hands are shaking, and you lean against the countertop to steady yourself, head spinning when you close your eyes. Why is he doing this? The floor creaks beneath his steps, and he turns the corner into the kitchen, coming to stand in front of you. He dwarfs you, and the size difference that used to thrill you now fills you with anxiety. You were going to have to give birth to his baby, after all. His giant, 94% percentile “large for gestational age” baby, as your doctor called it. He huffs a breath, and you glance up at him, noticing the furrow of his brow, the tense lines of his muscles. He looks nervous.

“I- I’d like… I want to show you something.” Without giving you a chance to respond, he reaches for the bottom of the balaclava, peeling it up his neck before pulling free of it completely. Your brain short circuits. What, did he just… what? Your mouth drops open in shock as you stare. You can feel your heartrate increasing, and you blink in disbelief. He’s so… handsome. Handsome in a way you weren’t expecting. Not soft but, gentle in a way that surprises you. Strong nose, small scar on his cheek.

“Simon.” You whisper. He takes a hesitant step towards you, and then another when you don’t move away. He says your name, your real name. Not Sass, and you freeze where you stand. He knows your name.

“It’s on the ultrasound.” He murmurs. He’s still standing so close to you, you can smell him, can feel the heat radiating from his skin.

“Simon-“

“I’m mad for ya. Always have been. If you give me a chance, I’d-“

“Stop.” You cut him off before he can say anything else, before he can wear you down even more. “I… this… it’s complicated and… it’s late. I’m tired.” Cop out. You weren’t mentally prepared for this. You had hoped you would never have to have this conversation, you assumed you’d never see him again.

“Okay.” You breathe a sigh of relief when he relents so easily. Simon was used to executing and resulting, immediately and favorably. “I’m staying close.” Your sigh of relief catches in your chest. Fuck. “I’ll come by… tomorrow.” It’s not a request, but you’re too tired to argue.

“Okay.” You agree. You can button this up tomorrow. You can figure out what he wants and then send him on his way, get rid of him. You’re not giving into him, into whatever this is, so easily, just because he took the mask off. You can-

“Sass.” His hand is reaching towards your belly, and he’s watching you with an almost hopeful, longing expression. It’s hard to tell, because you’ve only ever been able to see his eyes. Now, the eyes that you were so used to interpreting on their own had suddenly become much more complex. “Can I?”

“Um. Uh… sure.” You’re treading into dangerous territory here, but you can’t find it in yourself to refuse him. Our son. His words from earlier echo in your mind. His palm presses to your skin, resting softly against the swell, thumb stroking into your sweatshirt. There’s a kick, a soft one, right near his hand, and you watch his face change, the mystery and wonder encompassing it sparking pesky hormone tears behind your eyes. Oh no. Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry. You try to hold them back, but it’s useless. You’re staring at his face, his whole, unguarded, unmasked face while he feels his son kick for the first time.

It's too much. You step back.

He clears his throat.

“Right. Well, tomorrow then.”

The next fic in this series is here.

#simon ghost riley x reader #tw pregnancy #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #pregnant reader #female reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod mw22 fanfiction #cod fanfic #simon ghost riley x you #peaches writes #sassy series

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iicarused · 2 months

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More on that whole Alastor having a spouse thing (spoilers for ep5).

A dynamic I've had rotating in my mind is of Alastor having a partner who died and went to hell with him. They represent the stereotypical couple from their time and all around are just happy, despite being in hell. Before they died Al's darling helped him cover up his crimes. Being his alibi, lying to people and cleaning up any messes he might have accidentally left behind. Even on occasions helping him cook or even back using the meat he hunted for. And when they both eventually kicked the bucket they held those values as they did when they were alive.

From an onlookers perspective they come off as a couple who's madly in love with one another, still holding that adoration towards each other through the decades they've been together. They dance together, they hold hands, they kiss… But it's not love. Ok, let me rephrase that for you. They gouge out other people's eyes out of jealousy, they pick their next victims together, they have eachothers back through thick and thin. It's not love, it's deeper.

The thing about those two is that no one can really understand them, as cheesy as that sounds. It gives them a sense of solidarity, that there is no one else for them because there is no one else like them. They are the only ones they would consider… Equals. Heh, one of the reasons why they're so intertwined with each other is because they're both just so terrible. His darling spouse just seems more negotiable, but their passiveness is a ruse. Coming of as motherly/fatherly (whatever the gender neutral term is) easily reeling in any weak minded sinners. Their diabolical antis have Alastor weak. HAH, the demon/angel, whoever has Alastor on contract wishes they had this amount of power over him because he, is, whipped.

Oh, and we can't forget the hotel's residents finding out about Al's little darling doe. Either it was Alastor who mentioned them or Mimzy did through her retelling of how Al rose to power. Or they already meet them (Husker, Niffty), but nevertheless the crew has only heard good things about you. Much to their surprise considering how self centered the dear demon is, while Vaggie is weirded out by this her girlfriend is happy and wishes to meet them someday/night. And when they do meat? They weren't very surprised, they kinda already had an image of who they were due to Alastor's ramblings.

Holding you close he kisses your neck where the burn marks are most visible. You can feel his everlasting smile tugging into a frown against your skin, the mere thought of you taking your own life still makes him sick. How afraid you must have been without him. You lean back cupping his cheek with your hand looking deep into his sorrowful eyes. An unfamiliar look for the usually dapper man, it didn't suit him.

“There's no need to get so worked up over old scars dear, I don't, so why should you? Besides, I'm here now aren't i?”

At your words the radio demon saged and let out a content sigh, his lovely smile returning.

“Your right” he said, kissing the inside of your palm before returning back to snuggling with his lover.

…

I can't imagine the reader not having a twang to their voice, their own vibe, not radio per say but something like from this youtube clip. It probably wouldn't make sense for them to sound like that but I couldn't get it out of my head.

If there's one thing I love , it's when others explore the relationship between the two individuals before they went six feet down under. And one of those versions that i quite enjoy is Deer Dolly by ohproserpine check em out. And also, Where do I begin? on ao3 (be warned, for there is implication of SA in it, nothing too graphic but still, protective Alastro being protective, love it).

I think the appeal of Alastor was how different he was (except for in the creepy ass twink department, we've got plenty of those). Mainly in the way he was presented. “a show made independently, and the voice actors are making streams talking in their characters voices? Ö”. And everyone just ran with what they had, we were given just enough to fall for the colorful cast, enough to make fan content before the pilot was out. Like the dad jokes, fan animations, Alastor saying darling~ and the many accounts of them flustering Ashley, among other things :) (all the letters are links, haven't seen some of these in years dafuq). I'm surprised that not many people use what they said in the streams in their writings, I'd wish to see more of that. There's some real gold in there to be utilized.

But anyways, back to the topic at hand. There's always been one song I've associated Alastor with, since I was like 15 to16 years old, and it's something has to happen. Can't help but imagine a chase sequence whenever I listen to it, and I recently found some more inspiration in the form of this! and that.

He could smell the fear radiating from his prey, they ran with haste, trying to put distance between them and their pursuer. The demon chuckled to himself at their persistence. Such a lively prey they were, truly, he couldn't wait to hold them close to his chest, to trap them in the grip of his teeth, tearing tissue and bones in his jaws. Oh He loves them, he hunts them.

…

Man, I remember back in the day there were so many stories revolving around Alastor appearing in the living world to torment his darling, or to make a meaningful connection with them. But I've never seen one where his darling is his accomplice, helping him spread his “curse” onto unsuspecting victims. I got this idea from this piece of artwork by lanveril.

i remember the days of that too! it was such a great time of alastor and obsession fics yknow, but also small??? since it was just the pilot and we had a lot to toy around with. but you are so right about him and his s/o being a cheesy couple.

the sweetest couple on the block who seem very normal and overall a prime example of love. “darling, i have the meat!” and you would beckon him in the kitchen with a sweet smile so you could prepare it.

i think he would be a cliche husband, but also one who enjoys a little rough housing form time to time.

i had to gatekeep this ask for awhile mb LMFAOO i loved it so much😭

#★*#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader

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starrylothcat · 8 months

Note

My queen! May I humbly request to you a dialog burned into my skull for hunter ? I know you have a promt list but I have thought of hunter saying these lines ever since they came to me (I hope u don't mind a suggestion that's not on a list🖤🖤🖤)

"Do you have any idea how intoxicating you are to me? Do you even know what you Do me? How much you drive me wild?"

"Oh I think you do. Oh mesh'la, If I didnt know any better I'd think you like driving me crazy"

-I've had no thoughts other than hunter and his God damn inhanced senses and that scent kink 🙈 Nonthing but sinful smutty thoughts

Ofc my queen, you can go for whatever context you think fits. ☺️🖤🖤🖤

Essence

Summary: Your scent drives Hunter wild and his desire for you has been building. He’s been able to hold it together until a new scent from you pushes him to the brink.

Pairing: Hunter x Jedi Fem!Reader

WC: 4700 whoops

Warnings: NSFW, 18+. Scent kink, unprotected PiV sex (wrap it yo), cunnilingus, cum eating, praise, Hunter being a horny beast. Takes place during TCW. Reader is a Jedi for fun, not really described.

A/N: Let me tell you, I have no THOTS other than Hunter and his senses either! Thank you so much for this request…this dialogue is DELICIOUS and you sent me down a rabbit hole. I do not mind at all! I got a bit carried away, but I hope this is what you envisioned! This is what I humbly offer in return! Enjoy~

Ever since you introduced yourself to him all those weeks ago, Hunter has been captivated.

Whenever his mind was idle his thoughts drifted to you, the ghost of your scent always teasing his senses. He both wished he could be near and as far away as possible from you, your entire being taunting him whether you knew it or not.

It wasn’t just your beauty that beguiled him or your skill on the battlefield, it was your alluring and downright intoxicating fragrance that overtook his senses any time you were near.

Hunter was used to people’s smells, it was the downside of being genetically enhanced to notice such things. He often found other’s natural scents overpowering, learning to ignore them quickly.

But you, you were something else.

Per the Jedi Council’s request, you were assigned to Clone Force 99 to assist with a few delicate retrieval missions and had been given orders to train with them in the weeks leading up to the assignments.

His brothers grumbled, not liking having a Jedi on the team, even temporarily, thinking it was some sort of insult and insinuating they couldn’t handle themselves.

Hunter was skeptical too, but ever since first meeting you on a landing platform on Coruscant, your natural perfume ignited his senses like a newly formed star.

During missions, he could ignore it long enough to be successful and keep his mind clear.

But when you were training, or on The Marauder, or just catching him in the halls of Kamino to say hi, he was tormented, and ached in silence.

You had just returned to Coruscant, having completed a mission successfully. You were back at the main GAR Headquarters and Master Kenobi wanted a debrief from you and Hunter. The war was picking up, and more and more Jedi and clones were needed in the coming battles.

Hunter was trying to clear his head before the meeting. He was stuck on The Marauder with you for a few rotations and his body was buzzing with need, his mind cloudy and spinning. He wanted so desperately to explore your body inch by inch, peel back your Jedi robes and become completely lost in you.

It was all he could think about.

Every night, even when you weren’t near, he dreamt of the sounds you’d make as he took you apart and pieced you back together, how your curves would feel under his palms, desperate to be between your legs and drink at your source. Every morning he’d wake uncomfortably hard, hoping his hand would help him forget, but it only provided temporary relief.

Hunter was almost glad your time with them was nearing an end, not knowing how long he could suffer like this.

Hunter had another problem, and it also had to do with you. He had been avoiding you the entire trip back to Coruscant and practically ran off The Marauder when you landed.

He knew you noticed, and figured you assumed he was angry at you. He watched as your face fell when you asked if he wanted to join you after the mission debrief for a drink, to celebrate the mission success.

Hunter mumbled he was busy, not even looking you in the eye.

How could he when he was seconds from wanting to taste your lips and fuck you senseless?

Hunter stood outside the door to the debriefing room, knowing you’d be in there. It was probably for the best if you thought he hated you.

It wasn’t like you’d be able to be with him, anyway.

You were standing in the conference room, knowing Hunter was going to walk in any minute.

You were trying to figure out Hunter’s increasingly strange behavior toward you, not knowing if you did something to upset him, or if something else was bothering him.

The mission was a success, no losses were sustained, and you and Clone Force 99 worked well with one another, so that couldn’t be it.

Your heart sank a little, thinking maybe he figured out your feelings toward him. He did have heightened senses, maybe he noticed something, and you weren’t as subtle as you hoped? You were trying your best to keep everything strictly professional, the mission always coming first.

You couldn’t deny your growing feelings toward the broody Sargeant though, his smokey voice, curly locks, broad shoulders, and thin waist just begging for you to grab on to. Those exact fantasies were going through your head just a few moments ago when you were in your quarters.

You meant to take a nap and rest, but your mind wandered along with your hand under your panties. You didn’t mean to think about Hunter, but it was his face that was between your thighs in the dream, his deep voice whispering praises as he entangled his body with yours.

The chirp of your commlink interrupted your “nap,” alerting you that the debrief was starting earlier than expected. Begrudgingly, you dressed and headed to the meeting, not satisfied and a little more frustrated than before.

Hunter entered the room, and his nerves were immediately on fire. You were chatting with another clone, a Commander from another unit.

You glanced at him, nodded, and went back to speaking with him.

A new odor from you was assaulting his senses that wasn’t your usual exilarating aroma, this was different.

Very different.

It was arousal.

Hunter bristled, fighting the sudden and intense urge to rip his clothes off and yours, taking you right then and there in front of everybody.

It was hard enough to ignore your usual natural perfume, but this was almost cataclysmic.

Obi-Wan’s hologram popped up, exchanging short courtesies with everyone, before diving into the topic at hand.

Hunter was barely paying attention, voices fading as he tried to hold himself together.

Why would you smell like sex?

Hunter scanned the room, looking at the troopers and other Jedi that were listening to the debrief from Obi-Wan.

Was it one of them?

Jealousy stabbed his chest like a blade, imagining you in the throes of pleasure with a reg between your legs. You can do better than that. He thought bitterly. It could be me if you wanted.

Your demeanor was calm, listening intently to General Kenobi’s report, which was the opposite of what your pheromones were telling him.

The other clones seemed at ease too, and Hunter couldn’t pick up the hint of your arousal on anyone else in the room.

Does that mean…?

If Hunter wasn’t sweating before, he was now.

The image of you laying on your bunk in your quarters, touching your own body, and pleasing yourself was almost too much to handle in this public space.

Jedi were people too, people with needs. And you were taking care of that need right before this meeting.

Hunter glanced in your direction, your body radiating arousal, burning him from the inside out.

You were horny, there was no denying it. Still horny, it seemed, as if your private time before this meeting wasn’t quite enough.

Hunter’s body went into overdrive, picking up your needy pheromones as they wafted to his nose.

Was this purposeful? Did you know what you did to him and were testing him? Some sort of kriffed-up Jedi trial of will?

Hunter clenched and unclenched his fist, praying for this debrief to be over soon, or else he might implode, a beast clawing its way out that he wasn’t sure he could contain for much longer.

Who were you thinking of while you writhed under your hand?

The image of some shiny reg popped into his head again, or that Commander you were just speaking to, the sharp blade of jealousy threatening to split him open.

He wanted you, all of you. The thought of anyone else made his blood boil, though he knew he had no stake in you. No one did. You were a Jedi.

After what seemed like hours, the meeting ended, and General Kenobi signed off.

Hunter had to get out of here, get away from you before he did something he regretted.

He wanted to pull you into the nearest supply closet and give you what your body needed. But did you even want him? Could you feel the same way, if things were different?

Hunter knew the Jedi had their codes, their honor. He didn’t want to put you in a position of temptation or disgrace.

Hunter barely heard you call his name, trying to get his attention as he quickly strode out of the mission room, needing to be alone, needing to get away from you. Once again, he was running away from you.

You were aware of Hunter’s strange behavior throughout the meeting. He almost looked ill, sweating and fidgeting, the muscles in his neck tense and his jaw set tight.

There was definitely something wrong with him. He raced off The Marauder, and now he’s avoiding you again like you were made of bantha dung.

You frowned, your patience thin.

You had to know what was going on.

You left the room, scanning the hallway to see which way he went. You caught a glimpse of his armor and red bandana turning a corner some ways down the hall, and you jogged trying to catch up with him, calling his name.

“Hunter! Wait!

Hunter didn’t look back, increasing his pace. His head was throbbing, his codpiece uncomfortably tight, trying to get you out of his head. It didn’t help that you were chasing him down the hall.

Hunter took a quick turn down another hallway, opening the first door that he saw. It was an empty training room, with floor mats and other exercise equipment scattered about the room. The door hissed closed behind him, hoping he had lost you.

He wasn’t fast enough, it seemed, as you slammed the button to open the door, stepping in.

“Hunter, what the kriff is going on?” He could tell you were mad, your lips pursed tight and a flash in your eyes that told him you were here for answers.

Hunter was balling his fists again, not wanting to put you in a situation that made you uncomfortable, hoping he could come up with something to ease the situation.

“Nothing, I just needed some air.”

You glowered, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Hunter, you’ve been avoiding me like I have the plague…did I do something to upset you? If so, let me apologize. You’re acting strange!”

“You didn’t upset me.” Hunter’s response was quick. “It’s just…”

“Just what?”

Hunter took in a deep breath. He knew you wouldn’t believe any excuse he came up with. You weren’t stupid.

“You.” Hunter grumbled, unable to look you in the eyes.

“Me?” You questioned. “So it does have to do with me? Hunter, I don’t want to play games!”

Hunter could hear the drop in your voice, not wanting you to think he was angry with you.

“No…it’s something else. My senses…” Hunter scrubbed his face with his hands.

Hunter sighed. “Whatever you were doing before the debrief…..I can still smell it on you.”

“Hunter, what do you-?” You stopped, processing his words.

Hunter stayed silent.

Oh.

Heat scorched your face, wanting to become invisible and shrink into nothing. He could smell that?

“Hunter I’m so sorry, I…umm…” You were almost too embarrassed to speak, your anger replaced with mortification, not realizing his senses were that acute.

“Don’t apologize.” Hunter started toward you. “It’s okay, it's just…overwhelming.”

You bit your lip, your face on fire, seeing how disheveled he seemed, but you could tell something was bubbling beneath his surface.

Your Jedi senses were picking up a need, a desire that he was holding back, one that was boiling over, one that has been held down tight for some time that was finally slipping through the cracks.

“I… didn’t have a chance to finish.” You couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of your mouth. “I got a comm for the debrief right as uh…I was almost done.”

Hunter stared at you, mouth open.

“What are you saying?” His voice was low, his gaze narrowing.

You boldly lifted a hand and traced it down his armored arm. “I’m saying…I’d let you help me finish what I started earlier. If that would fix things, clear your mind.”

Hunter was speechless momentarily, not believing the words coming out of his Jedi’s mouth.

You were close to him now, closer even than you were in the debriefing room.

“I…I was thinking about you.” You whispered, your fingers still lightly outlining his armor.

Hunter brought his hand to your neck, tracing his fingers up to cup the side of your face, testing the waters.

“Has…my scent been making you feel this way the entire time?” You looked up at him through your eyelashes.

Hunter closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing, slowly bringing his forehead to yours.

“Yes. Every waking moment.” He admitted.

The tension that had been building in Hunter, between the two of you, finally snapped.

Hunter pressed his entire body into you, walking you back against the wall of the training room, pinning you. Intense heat radiated from him turning your blood into magma, your hands flying to grasp at the back of his head as his armor dug into you.

Hunter leaned down into your neck, inhaling deeply.

“Do you have any idea how intoxicating you are to me? Do you even know what you do to me?” His tone was a hoarse whisper, like wisps of smoke from a recently doused fire, his hands tracing up your torso over your robes, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Do you realize how much you drive me wild? How often have I thought of you like this?”

It was all out in the open now, there was no point in holding back.

His lips hovered above your pulse point, watching it beat and hearing the blood rushing through your veins.

Your body was engulfed with want, your core aching as you felt Hunter’s breath pant against your neck. “Your body…your smell…you tear me apart at the seams, mesh’la.”

“I didn’t realize…I didn’t think you’d notice-“ you gasped as his lips connected with your neck, his tongue tracing a pattern on your skin, his fingers locked on your waist.

“I think you did. Oh mesh'la, If I didn't know any better I'd think you like driving me crazy.”

Hunter lifted his head from your neck, locking his eyes with yours. His usual honey-brown irises were almost black, pupils blown wide with unbridled lust.

You didn’t realize he felt this way for you for so long and felt a little guilty for unintentionally driving him mad.

“Tell me to stop, and I will.” Hunter gasped, his cock aching in his pants, waiting for your answer, your arousal stronger than before, your body begging to be ravaged.

You swallowed, momentarily wondering if you should stop this before it got too far, but his touch and feral desire for you were too enticing to ignore.

You closed the distance between you, crashing your lips against him. You dug your hands into his hair, kissing with uninhibited abandon, giving him your answer.

He immediately kissed back with equal fervor, loving the sensation of you gently pulling on his hair, causing the burning flame in his chest to ignite hotter and brighter as your mouths greedily danced.

You boldly nibbled at his bottom lip, earning a groan from Hunter as you slid your tongue against his, intensifying the already feral kiss.

You knew this was wrong, against everything, but you didn’t care. The worries of being caught were carelessly thrown to the ground with your robes and his armor, quickly stripping one another, not wanting to waste a single second.

You traced your fingers over his broad, powerful body as he gave you equal attention, running his thumbs over your soft curves, marveling at your figure. “You’re beautiful.” Hunter rasped. “Maker, I’ve wanted you since I first saw you.”

He searched your eyes one more time for any sign of doubt or hesitation.

“I’m flattered, Sarge.” You teased, tracing your hand down his biceps, touching his sculpted muscle under his tanned skin.

Hunter sloppily kissed down your neck and took one of your nipples in his mouth, suckling and teasing, gauging your reaction with every flick of his tongue, quickly learning what you liked.

You gripped his hair again, panting and moaning as he lavished your breast before switching to the other.

“H-Hunter…” you could barely speak, still tugging at his locks which seemed to spur him on further.

“I can smell how much you want me.” Hunter rasped as he slid to his knees, hands caressing your thighs, looking up at you.

“Can I taste you? Give you what your body has been begging for?” You looked down at the man kneeling before you, a dark and hungry look on his face, sweat beading at his brow, his chest heaving.

“I need to know if you taste as good as you do in my dreams.”

You swallowed thickly, a new rush of desire flooding your senses. He's been dreaming about me, like this?

“You’ll have to let me know how it compares.” Your voice was raspy, trying to steady yourself, leaning back against the training room wall.

Hunter smirked as he pressed his nose into your mound, inhaling deeply.

He was finally at the source of what has been eating him alive the last few weeks, and it was intensely satisfying.

“I can’t wait to see if your sounds are as pretty as this pussy. You’re dripping. All for me, hm?”

He brushed his nose against your clit, a jolt of pleasure electrifying your body as a lewd sound escaped your lips, louder than intended.

“Did you like that? Do you want to cum on my face?” He mumbled, nuzzling his nose again against the sensitive nerve.

You whimpered, needing more, so much more.

“Y-yes…please, Hunter. I want to cum in your mouth.”

You were begging now, his stubble scratching against your thighs and his lips gently kissing your labia.

“That’s my girl, I’ll give you what you want for asking so nicely.” He rumbled into your soaking cunt, his cock weeping at the sight and the scent of you.

Hunter wasted no time starting his feast on your pussy, probing his tongue and hungrily lapping at your folds.

He truly was eating you like a man depraved, your nails digging into his scalp. It was intense, better than you could have imagined, better than your hand under your blanket, wishing it was Hunter between your thighs.

Your body shook and you couldn’t hold back the blissed sobs as Hunter gorged himself, his groans increasing in volume as he felt you get closer and closer to your peak, his jaw soaking with your fluid.

Once again, Hunter quickly recognized your subtle reactions and knew exactly where to lick and suck.

His hooked nose pressed and ground against your clit, bliss building quickly, your legs threatening to give out at the sheer intensity of it all.

You were a blubbering mess, words not coherent as Hunter moved his focus solely to your clit, needing you to cum. He flattened his tongue and pressed against your bud, grinding his mouth into you as you reached your peak.

Hunter was barely holding himself together, his hands tightly squeezing your thighs to keep you upright, holding you as you came apart above him.

Hunter let out a feral growl as you came, catching your release on his tongue, loving how your pussy clenched and legs quivered as your orgasm hit you like a ship going into hyperspace.

Your vision went white and anything tangible vacated your mind, letting the ecstasy course through your body.

“Kriff, you’re so beautiful when you cum.” Hunter mumbled into your pussy, still licking and kissing between your folds.

“So much better than my dreams.” You were breathless, coming down from your high, sliding down the wall. Hunter realized your legs were about to give out, wrapped his arms around you, and held you against him.

Your heart was pounding, trying to piece together what just happened, Hunter’s cock rubbing up against your stomach as he kissed you again, as ravenous and desperate as before, his face dripping with your release. It wasn’t enough, though, for either of you.

“Hands and knees.” He demanded between your lips furiously molding together. “Now.”

You immediately complied, any shred of your dignity completely gone. You shakily knelt on the ground on a floor training mat, resting your weight on your elbows, your ass sticking in the air.

You looked back at him over your shoulder, and the look on his face was predatory, dangerous even, his eyes completely black with craving.

Hunter knelt behind you, his chest heaving, rubbing his red cock head through your slick folds. You quivered, your cunt still sensitive from your orgasm.

Hunter slowly nudged against your entrance. “That’s right, relax, mesh’la.”

His breath was ragged, holding back wanting to slam straight into you and fuck you into oblivion.

“There you go, just like that…Kriff you’re so warm.” Hunter’s voice was gravelly, letting out a low hiss as he bottomed out. The stretch was wonderful, being stuffed full of him, his hips meeting your ass.

Seeing you like this, on all fours willing and taking him so effortlessly was almost overloading his system.

He squeezed your waist, giving a few shallow thrusts that practically made his mind melt, feeling your walls clench and take him perfectly.

“Hunter…” You dug your fingernails into the mat, not caring about how desperate you sounded, or how you were exposing your ass to him like an animal in heat.

“Fuck me, please.” You gasped, pushing back against him.

“So needy…” Hunter squeezed your ass, slowly pulling out almost all the way. “You’ll get what you’ve been wanting, mesh’la. Don’t worry.”

Hunter quickly pushed back in, earning a pleasured whine from you. He was deliciously thick, and you could feel his cock head and veins glide against your walls as he picked up his pace, fucking you exactly how you wanted for who knows how long.

“Is this what you wanted?” He grunted, breathless, his broody Sargeant composure crumbling with every thrust deeper inside you, his pace increasing.

“Did you want to be fucked by me? Did you dream about me, too? Did you touch your perfect pussy and think of me?”

You nodded, your eyes half-lidded and your mouth hanging open as he fucked you senseless, your cheek now pressed against the mat.

You knew you would probably have a red mark across your face but you didn’t care, just like you didn’t care how his hands would be leaving bruises on your hips as he pounded into you.

You were thankful these training rooms were soundproof, the obscene slapping of sweaty skin and excessively loud moans hopefully muffled to any passerby.

Hunter groaned at your admission, his calloused hands leaving a trail of fire as they roamed your backside, one hand reaching under you and his finger finding your clit.

“Did you touch yourself just like this right before the meeting? Wishing it was your Sergeant’s cock?”

You nodded into the mat again, tears forming at the sides of your eyes, drool pooling under where your face was pressed into the firm fabric, the sheer intensity of him pulling you apart with every frantic thrust.

“Y-yes Hunter, I wished it was you, I wished it was your cock filling me up…”

Hunter growled, pleased at your answer.

He applied more pressure to your clit, causing you to convulse and shake against him, crying out his name, his cock pounding into you without pause.

“You’re so close, mesh’la, I can feel it. Be a good girl and cum for your Sergeant.”

Hunter leaned down, pressing his abdomen to your back, truly mounting you like an animal, his hips pistoning into you, growling in your ear.

His control was gone. He needed one thing and one thing only, his mind now focused on a singular task, to feel you come apart on his cock, inhale your release, hear your voice shake as you cry out his name and his name only.

Hunter’s hand was rubbing perfect, quick circles on your engorged clit, tears falling down the sides of your cheeks as the coil in your belly was wound tighter and tighter with every movement of his finger.

“H-Hunter I’m so -“ You sobbed, so close to crashing over the edge, his finger relentless against your practically overstimulated bud.

“Cum for me, now.”

Hunter snarled in your ear, needing your orgasm more than you.

“That’s it…let me hear you…” His voice was strained through his clenched jaw, inhaling deeply in the crook of your neck as your walls clenched and trembled around his cock, soaking him as your release rocked your body, every one of his nerves in charged with electricity at the sound and fragrance of your second orgasm.

“So perfect…just like that…”

Hitched sobs of his name were more than enough to bring him excruciatingly close to his own explosive orgasm that was building quickly. “Where?” His hand was still working your clit, shocks of pleasure jolting your body, his hand soaked with your cum.

“Inside…implant.” you gasped, and that was more than enough to unload inside you. Hunter bit into your neck, letting out a final low, guttural moan as his cock swelled and twitched, pulsating his release into your cunt.

Your body was completely wrecked and overstimulated, clenching around his softening cock, feeling his spend leak out of you and onto the mat below.

Hunter’s thrusts slowed, mumbling incoherent words in your ear, your head ringing and blood pounding in your ears.

Hunter slowly pulled out of you, watching as his cum dripped from your swollen pussy.

“Gorgeous.” He murmured, not being able to help himself as he grabbed your hips, earning a surprised yelp as he flipped you on your back, yanking your pelvis up.

You were completely blissed, mind hazy, eyelids fluttering, trying to come down from your high.

Hunter couldn’t help but smirk at the sight of you. He wasn’t done yet.

You gasped as Hunter lapped at your folds once more, gently this time, tasting himself mixed with your juices. You let out a choked groan as he softly teased your clit, cleaning you up with his mouth.

“Too much…Hunter…” You could barely speak, watching as he slowly ate you out. Hunter locked his eyes on you, continuing his languid pace, putting your boneless legs over his broad shoulders for better access.

Hunter knew he could get one more out of you. “One more, pretty thing, for me.” He mumbled into your folds, swirling his tongue carefully around your aching clit.

You were grasping at nothing, digging your nails into the mat, your gasping mewls music to Hunter’s ears. His hands carefully caressed where he bruised you, gently suckling on your overworked clit, careful and precise.

Your legs shook as a slow, rolling orgasm washed over your body, sounds unable to leave your mouth, Hunter’s sudden gentleness surprising but welcome.

Your body was covered in sweat, your hair sticking to your forehead and back stuck to the mat, trying to piece yourself together as Hunter removed himself from between your legs, barely registering him kissing you softly, stroking the side of your face, kissing the bite mark on your neck.

You wanted to say something, but the moment was interrupted by Hunter’s commlink chirping in his pile of armor. He cursed, standing up and rifling through his pockets, still buck naked. You sat up on your forearms, trying to figure out how you’d both get out of this room unseen, and what came after.

Hunter grabbed his device, speaking quickly to Tech who was on the receiving end. You didn’t pay much attention to what he was saying, trying to dress yourself and look presentable.

“Tech wants us to run through a simulation of our next assignment.” Hunter handed you your belt as he fixed his blacks, snapping his armor back into place. “But I told him it could wait until tomorrow.”

You raised your eyebrow, trying to fix your hair. “I’m surprised you’re not running away from me again, Sarg.” You teased lightly, not quite sure what to say after your intense coupling.

Hunter chuckled. “I figured we could get that drink.”

You looked at him, a blush forming at your cheeks. “To celebrate a successful mission.” He smirked as he adjusted his viroblade on his arm.

“Agreed.” You answered, touching his arm like you did before, a mischievous flash in your eye.

“Since we are ditching training tonight for a drink, “ You continued, “perhaps we could discuss future strategies in my personal quarters afterwards?”

Hunter’s eyes met yours, the hungry look from before returning.

“Sir yes sir.”

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love-islike-abomb · 4 days

Text

Mr roboto

Cyborg!Roman Reigns x Esme (OC)

"I am the modern man, who hides behind a mask, so no one else can see my true Identity!"

Warnings: sci Fi, smut, angst, errors I may have missed.

Word count: 2,737

Tag list: @reignsangel444 @acknowledge-reigns @mzv11 @marchm-langdon @mandeelemons @pittieprincess22 @romanreignshairdresser @weirdgirl16355 @wrestlingprincess80

_______

To say I hated cyborgs would be an understatement! My parents were murdered by one many planet rotations ago. I was only 5 years old and was sent to live with my aunt and uncle. When my uncle was alive, things were somewhat better. I was put in therapy to help me deal with my parents death. Then, just before my 18th birthday my uncle passed away. After his funeral his wife completely changed. It was as if his death was what she had been waiting for. I was sent to the starship, a place people go just before their drafted into the space academy.

The space academy was where we went to train to be engineers. I thought we'd be working on space equipment but I would soon find out that the reason my aunt sent me here was to rub in my face that cyborgs killed my parents. I was being forced to keep the very beings who killed my parents well maintained because we had gone to another planet and started a war with a species 3x as advanced as ours. Great another fuck up I have to fix!

When we arrived to the space academy I'd be assigned to my cyborg and that would be who I'd be with throughout the mission. We'd be sharing quarters together as well. "His ass better be sleeping on the couch!" I mumbled to myself.

"what was that cadet?" My superior officer asked, daring me to repeat myself.

I sighed heavily "nothing, sir!"

He gave me a stern look "go to the main hall. You'll be meeting your cyborg there!"

"yes sir!" I said walking away "please don't let this be a total disaster!"

When I reached the main hall, it was filled with all the other cadets and people I didn't recognize. We're these the cyborgs? Some of them we're quite attractive.

"Esme! I've been waiting for you!" Danny said. Danny was one of the few friends I'd made in the academy. Her mom had sent her here since she loved robotics but I don't think she understood what exactly this was. These weren't just robots, they were cyborgs! Half human, half machine!

"hey Danny!" I smiled, leaning in to give him a hug "I recognize a lot of these people but a lot of them I also don't! Who are they?"

"the cyborgs!" Danny smiled "its so cool! They don't even look it!" Danny's blissful ignorance was at times my light in a room of darkness but this was different. She didn't know just how dangerous they coupe be. I had to control my temper and not go off because Danny was one of the few who knew I hated cyborgs but with good reason.

My superior walked away Into the main and everyone immediately stood at attention, I took my sweet time but eventually did to.

He walked to the intercom, taking it from it's holster "it's time for all of you to meet your cyborgs!" He said. I sighed heavily. I'm probably gonna get paired with some prison looking motherfucker named bubba!

"Danny!" As her name was called Danny smiled and ran up to the front of the main hall. A tall brunette woman was standing next to our superior "this is your cyborg, C00987!" Danny walked with her cyborg to where everyone else was sitting. A few had already met there's and it was finally my turn "Esme!"

I walked to my superior. Who was that next to him? Was that my cyborg? I hadn't seen him in here the whole time! He was gorgeous! "Esme, this is your cyborg C980012!" He reached his hand out to shake mine. Hesitantly, I shook his hand and despite what I expected it wasn't a overly firm handshake. He was quite gentle.

No Esme! Dont fall for it! His kind killed your parents! "Well!" My superior said clapping his hands together "it's getting late and we should all head to our quarters for the night!" I sighed heavily and rolled my eyes. I wasn't looking forward to this! "Come on! Let go!" I said to my cyborg, leading him to where I slept.

I put my hand on the panel next to my room, opening the door "this is where I sleep!" I said pointing to my bed "you can sleep wherever you wish just not next to me!"

"I may be a machine but I sense that you have some hostility towards me and I'm not entirely sure i understand why!" He said.

"I don't like anyone!" I said, trying to play it off.

He looked at me puzzled "I saw you talking to that one ginger girl, Danny was her name if I remember right!"

I sighed "look the less you know about me the better. I'm only here because I was forced to be, not because I want to be. I just wanna get this don and over with!" I said sitting on my bed.

"my processors tell me your stressed and I can smell anger In your pheromones. What's making you so angry?" He said putting his hand on my back. Instinctively I flinched away "don't touch me!" I yelled.

He threw his hands up in surrender "alright! I'm sorry!"

I laid down on my bed "there's a couch over there!" I said pointing at the window "get off my bed and leave me alone!"

His face looked genuinely hurt by what I said. A cyborg who feels emotion? Was he different from the others? I pushed the thought out of my mind and closed my eyes and soon drifted off to sleep.

The next morning

When I woke up and realized what had happened the night before, I looked around the room for him. He was still sitting on the couch, fully dressed and staring at me.

"you know it's not nice to stare at people!" I said. He didn't respond, he didn't move. What the fuck? Did he shut down during the night? I suddenly heard what sounded like a computer firing up. His eyes lost their glossy look "hello!" He smiled.

"is that how you cyborgs sleep?" I asked.

"if you wish to call it that then yes!" He said.

I rolled my eyes and walked to my closet. His footsteps gave away that he was walking towards me "I really don't know what I've done to make you be so rude to me!" He said.

I sighed "I really don't wanna talk about it! Like I said, I'm only doing this because I have to!"

"perhaps if you did talk about it it might make you feel better. I'm not here to hurt you!" He smiled.

"you may not be but your kind did!" I said.

"what do you mean?" He asked, confusion on his face.

Realizing what I said I knew I was gonna have to tell him now. I sighed heavily "a cyborg killed my parents!"

He hung his head "I'm sorry!"

"yeah, well I told you I didn't wanna talk about it but you kept pushing! Thanks for opening up my old wounds!" I said slamming the closet door shut, walking away.

"Esme!!" He yelled, his voice deepened.

I stopped "what?" I said looking over my shoulder at him.

"I'm not here to hurt you!" He said, putting a hand on my shoulder "I'm not the cyborg who killed your parents and I'm sorry that happened to you. I can't make up for what happened but please dont act like I'm not half human!"

I hung my head. He was right. For the first time I was the one who was apologizing, even though he didnt have to in the first place "I'm sorry!" I said. He'd been so nice to me even though I was incredibly rude to him.

"shall we start this over?" He asked with a smile.

"I don't see why not!" I smiled back.

He extended his hand out to me "I'm C980012 but all the other cyborgs call me Roman!"

I reached my hand out to his, his handshake still as gentle as the first time "I'm Esme!" I smiled.

He smiled back "let's head down to the main hall, I'm sure they have a whole marage of things for us to do!"

Later that night.....

Finally leaving the main hall, Esme was exhausted. The snide comments from the other cadets about how she was forced to work with the very beings who killed her parents made her blood boil and having to hide that she was upset took its toll on her, but for the first time she wasn't angry at Roman. She realized he had nothing to do with her parents death. She still didn't trust him but her anger towards him had settled. As they headed back to her quarters Esme's words started to become slurred causing Concern to grow on his face.

"Esme, you look exhausted! Do you want me to carry you back to your room?" He asked her.

"I'm fine, I just need some sleep!" She half smiled, her eyes heavy. A few more steps and her body gave out and he caught her before she fell to the floor. His reflexes far quicker and sharper then hers. He carried her to her quarters, laying her on the bed before sitting on the couch.

A cyborg wasn't supposed to fall for a human. It was forbidden and he knew he still had a lot to prove to gain her trust but he was willing to try.

The next morning

Esme's POV

I woke up and saw Roman in the same position he was a few nights ago. Looking lik he was staring at me. I remembered that's how cyborgs slept and walked over to him, waving my hand in front of his face. The glossiness In his eyes faded and I could hear his hard drive firing up "hello Esme!" He smiled.

I'm still not use to that!" I smiled "I need to get dressed and then we'll head to the training room!"

I headed to my changing room and changed into my flight suit. I had been so rude to him and the fact that he still treated me with kindness made me regret ever treating badly. I still didn't trust him but he was growing on me. I wondered why he put up with me for so long. A lot of things were going through my head but I had to push them aside for now. I headed out to where he was "let's head out!" I smiled, putting my hand on the panel to my room. As the door opened, I saw my superior officer and other trainees standing there.

"Esme come with us!" He said grabbing my arm. His grip was tight and instinctively I tried to pull away. It only made his grip tighter.

"What the fuck is going on? Let me go!!" I yelled. Roman must've heard my yelling because moments later I saw my superior slammed against the wall and his hands wrapped around 2 of the trainees necks. The 3rd one came up behind him with a knife in hand "Roman look out!" I yelled. The trainee swing the knife, slicing Romans chest, revealing the metal underneath his skin. The trainees face was covered in fear and he dropped the knife and tried to flee. Roman was to quick and in only a few strides caught up to him.

"Esme, run to your quarters! You don't need to see this!" He said, his eyes never leaving the trainee.

But what about-" I tried to say before he cut me off.

"Esme! Run!!" He yelled. The tone of his voice sending chills down my spine. I knew what was coming and though I knew this time a cyborg was killing to protect me, it didn't stop the memories running through my head. I ran to my quarters as fast I could, not once looking back. I heard screams of terror and covered my ears. My heart pounding in my chest. Moments later it stopped and all was quiet. I didn't dare move. What if something happened to Roman? A knock soon sounded on my door "Esme?" I recognized his voice and braced myself for what I might see on the other side.

I put my hand on the panel and the door opened. The cut on his body had healed, no trace of them anywhere. No blood, no wounds.

"are you ok?" I asked "I saw him cut you with a knife and the shine of metal under your skin! What happened to the cut?"

"my nanocytes!" He said "I naturally heal far faster then you humans do!"

"nanocytes?" I asked.

"cyborg immune system more or less!" He said "are you alright? You're trembling!" He said running his hand along my arm, goosebumps forming as he moved.

A lot of bad memories wer brought back" I said trying to fight back tears "I know you were protecting me but it doesnt stop the memories of my parents being murdered from flashing in my head!"

"I'm sorry Esme!" He smiled, putting his hand on my face. "I-" what needed to be said was no longer said with words but with his lips, connecting with mine. Every bit of anger I ever felt towards him in that moment had vanished and was replaced with desire.

His hands, recently used to destroy were so gentle on my skin. Lifting me up by my waist was effortless for him. I wrapped my legs around his waist, was I really about to do this? What kind of hold does he have on me? Why was in the only one he was gentle with? So many things going through my head but lust clouded it all. I would away from his beautiful lips, his eyes clouded with lust and want. In that moment I knew he was who I wanted. I didn't care.

"I need you!" I groaned.

"What do you need? My cyborg cock in your human pussy?" He growled. The tone of his voice made my whole body shiver. I bit my lip "yes, sir!"

When he got to my bed, the gentleness he laid me down with only heightened my need for him "these need to come off!" He growled, pulling at my clothes, yanking them off my body in one tung. I kept forgetting at times with how gentle he was that he was half machine and moments like that reminded me that out of all the people here, I was the one he chose to be gentle with. I was completely naked In front of him, underneath him, at his mercy. With what seemed like a gentle tung he yanked his sweatpants off, throwing them to the side "are you ready baby girl?" He growled as he kissed along my jawline, down my neck. He had already ruined me for any other man, no one would ever compare to the pleasure he had given me, no one, human or cyborg would be able to duplicate.

I nodded my head, ready for him to complete me. Sliding himself through my folds, teasing me, getting me ready for him, he slowly slid inside me, giving my body a chance to adjust. I groaned in pain for just a moment, his size bigger then any human man I'd ever had. "Shh, it's alright! Let the pleasure take over!" He cooed. My body relaxed at his words, allowing him to fully enter me.

"So fucking tight!" He growled, kissing down my neck, his kisses forming goosebumps on my skin as he went. Slowly he pulled all the way out, before slamming back into me, loud moans escaping my lips involuntary "that's it baby! Let go!" He growled in my ear "milk my cyborg cock with your pussy! Let me fill you!"

Fuck! I dug my nails into his back, my body releasing all the tension that had built over the last few weeks.

"Uhn! Fuck! You milk my cock so good baby!" He growled, releasing his seed Inside me, riding out our orgasms together. Slowly he stilled inside me, not wanting to let me go. He looked at me, a smile on his beautiful face "I love you, Esme!"

I smiled back "I love you to, Roman!"

I once hated cyborgs because of the heartache and violence one brought into my life, I never thought I would fall in love with one.

Domo arigato, Mr roboto!

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