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inklore · 1 year

Text

impetuous

premise: the little games you and joel like to play become risky when you almost get caught.

pairing: joel miller x smuggler!reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: eighteen+ content, unprotected piv, established enemies with benefits, dirty talk, a certain clothing item being used as a gag, small mention of masturbation and bjs, hints of angst.

note: episode eight changed me as a person, the integration scene rewired my brain chemistry and i just needed to get this out before i collapsed from being in heat. the gif was made by me so don't steal pretty please.

part of this world but you don't have to read it to enjoy this!

“Shh, shh,” Joel silences you, just as a hard thrust of his cock has your mouth falling open, a moan filling the air of the damp shed. The crunch of sticks and gravel outside makes your already thumping heart beat faster against your rib cage.

Brows drawn together, the hands gripping onto Joel’s flannel digging into his sides. The thumb that was just pressed to the column of your throat—dirty palm squeezing your airway just enough to lower your moans, enough to make you wetter and less coherent—now moves down to where you’re bare and his cock is fucking into you. The rough pad of his thumb moving along your clit, “focus right here.”

Ignore the noises outside.

Ignore the possibility of getting caught by someone out after dark and up to no good.

Ignore the possibility of getting thrown in a cell by FEDRA because you two were out after dark and up to no good.

“Fuc-Joel,” you whine. Clench your eyes shut until all you can see is little white dots behind them. Try to focus on those, on the burn you feel from the tears that are now prickling at your lash line from how hard you’re trying to focus.

From how hard you’re trying to keep your mouth shut, to not getting caught—at least not before you’ve come.

Joel’s words “focus right here” mocking and blaring in your head like a song you can’t stop humming, a song stuck in your head, a song you want to bodily remove from your brain stem; your focus on the footsteps outside no longer the issue; your attentions shifting to the head of his cock, hitting every spot inside of you that makes your legs tighten around his hips more, on the burning pleasure he’s delivering to your clit right now.

You couldn’t focus on anything but him if you tried, and you’re trying really hard to focus that attention on staying quiet.

Which the two of you know is not your forte, in and out of this situation.

The countless times when Joel’s not fucking you come to the forefront of your mind of him complaining about your need to argue, to talk talk talk, instead of the two of you doing a trade, or making the other come.

“Anyone ever told you you talk too much?”

"Well, one of us has to do the talking, Mr. Resting Grump Face. Besides, you’d be bored if I didn’t make you work for what you came for.”

“That what you call it? Workin’ for it? You mean until I give you what you want because you can’t seem to ask for it unless you’re deliverin’ me bad news,” he had smirked. Wiped the grin from your face and covered it with his mouth seconds later as he backed you into the wall, groin grinding against your front. “I got better uses for that mouth.”

The scrape of the metal table your ass is on moves each time Joel thrusts, each time his cock drags against your sensitive walls over and over. If it weren’t for his jeans still covering half of him, the sounds of your skin moving against each other—and your wetness that was more than likely staining the front of his jeans, the small window in the back doing little to help light anything but his face and neck—would cover up the mewls and cries making your throat hoarse and raw each time they slip out when you fight to swallow them down.

“The only way you know how to be quiet is with my cock in your mouth.” There’s humor in his tone; his heavy breaths add more heat to your face. You feel his free hand run along your leg, moving it from his hip for half a second as he pulls your underwear from your calf and over your ankle until it’s in his palm and he’s pushing the material into your mouth.

You can taste the remnants of your arousal on the cotton, from even before the two of you started your little game. When it was still just a simple trade of stolen items and things your boss was too cowardly to hand off to the big bad grump. When he had just been scowling at you, listening to your bullshit story, and bidding the time until one of you cracked. Before both of you threw the items to the side and Joel’s hands were bending you over the nearest surface or pushing you to your knees.

You swallow around the material, your whimpers caught by the fabric and barely audible. His lips press against the material, barely touching your lips; the sweat on his forehead mingles with your own as he presses it against yours. “Focus on comin’ for me, take what you came for. C’mon. Come with me,” he grunts. Moves his hips in a way that has your eyes rolling back and your teeth biting the salvia-soaked cotton.

The hand not rubbing fast circles on your clit, cups the back of your skull. His dirty fingers wrapped in your hair, keeping you in place. Keeping you bent at the perfect angle so your hips can meet his. So his thumb has access to that nerve that’s making your toes curl—to push his cock further and further into you so the tip hits something pleasurably painful.

When you’re coming, when his name is muffled against your underwear and your nails are clinging and digging into his skin from the searing heat that has your body convulsing against him—"That's it, that's it, take it” murmured against your forehead—you feel him finish seconds later. Your walls clenching and spasming around his cock. A deep grunt breathed against your skin.

Your insides feel warm, like jell-o left out in the sun. Like if Joel never moved from between your legs and the two of you stayed connected forever, you wouldn’t mind.

And after he’s pulled out and his warmth is gone from your body, you quickly shoot down the disappointment rising up inside of you that he didn’t stay between your legs longer. That this part of the night is over, and now you’re back to the game.

To the reason you snuck out after dark to begin with.

Completely denying yourself any opposing thought that could put that reason into question. The two of you have been doing this for too long for your mind to think it’s something it isn’t.

Even when he doesn’t just take what he came for and leave or shoot you a scowl when he helps you find your pants, the way you expect him to.

Or how he doesn’t let you go first no matter how much arguing you do against it—how he makes sure the coast is clear before signaling it’s safe. Him hanging behind to—cover his ass, you’re sure—make sure when you slip down the dark alleyway, no one is there to catch you sneaking away into the night.

And later, when you’re laying in bed, you’ll chalk up the pounding need you feel again as you remember Joel’s rough fingers against you—your jaw, your neck, digging into your sides, your shoulder to keep you from moving anywhere but against him, anywhere but where he wouldn’t be inside of you—and his words still playing in your head “focus right here, come with me”, your heart will pick up, and you’ll have no choice but to sedate the ache you feel by making yourself come. Joel’s name on your tongue and bit into your bottom lip; you’ll blame it on his stupid mouth and your lack of options for sexual partners in this hell hole.

It won’t be because of an attachment or attraction of any kind.

Fuck that.

And tomorrow, when you tell Robert to do his own fucking deliveries, it won’t be because of your feelings but instead because you almost got caught last night. This little game becoming more of a risk than entertainment for you, and you’ll be damned if you get in the mix with FEDRA over Joel and the underlying need the both of you have to pick each other apart and pull the hatred you harbor inside out with teeth, tongues, and fingers that make you see stars.

But Robert is spineless, and you’re not convincing enough to make yourself believe you want to end anything with Joel.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fics #joel miller fics #joel miller x smuggler!reader #the last of us fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine

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multi-fan-dom-madness · 6 months

Note

may I please request

❛ so good for me. look how much you came. ❜ with Hunter 👀

I’m still thinking about the masquerade fic and I am unwell

i am also unwell from that fic and it's clearly rewired my brain chemistry. please enjoy this smutty hors d'ouevres

So Good For Me

Summary: Hunter makes you cum. Really hard. That's it that's the fic. Prompt in bold.

Warnings: 18+ content, minors begone. f!reader, oral (f receiving), fingering, squirting, dirty talk, implied multiple orgasms

Word Count: 484

Hunter’s mouth suckling your clit as he pushes two crooked fingers up against your g-spot has obliterated all your ability to think coherently. Your focus is consumed by the growing, aching pleasure deep in your core, the impossible tightening of your muscles, and a foreign pressure right where Hunter pumps his fingers. You moan unabashedly, mewls and whimpers of pleasure echoing in the empty ship.

The vibrations of Hunter’s growling groan against your cunt is what sends you rocketing over the edge. Your vision whites out as your back arches off the bunk, hands curled into claws as you scream. Hunter doesn’t let you move very far—his free hand presses on your hips to keep you steady—the added pressure makes your walls pulse harder.

And the orgasm never seems to end. Every additional stroke of Hunter’s calloused fingertips against your walls has you shaking and falling apart further. It’s only when he withdraws his lips from your clit that you’re able to breathe again.

Legs quivering, all you can do is laugh uncontrollably, tears sliding down your cheeks. Your orgasm still continues to pulse and writhe within your core, every flex of your muscles making you yelp. Skin plastered to the thin sheets of the bunk, your entire body is damp, equal parts sweat, saliva, and slick.

Hunter smooths a hand over your thigh, trailing kisses on your heated skin in the wake of the goosebumps that his touch elicits. Weakly raising your head, cunt squeezing around his fingers still buried in your wet heat, you meet his gaze. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, and his entire face shines with your arousal. Your release drips from his curls.

“So good for me,” he husks, placing a delicate kiss to your swollen, oversensitive clit. “Look how much you came. Squirted all over me, sweetheart.”

Laughter dying out, a low whine catches in your throat, inexplicable embarrassment swelling up in a hot rush. You cover your face with both hands.

With a wet squelch, Hunter withdraws his fingers from your pussy to wrap his hands around your wrists. “Mesh’la,” he says, “look at me. S’nothin’ to feel shy about. That was the hottest kriffin’ thing you’ve ever done.”

Squinting at him from behind your fingers, you pout. “Not that time I asked you to breed me?”

He groans, biting his lip at the memory. His sound makes you shiver pleasantly. Relaxing, you let him pin your arms onto the bed once more. His eyes trail down your naked form, drinking in every part of your body. In contrast, he’s still fully clothed, his blacks tented where his cock stands at attention, and the neckline of his top dark with your release. He meets your gaze once again.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, mesh’la,” he says, a gentle smile tugging on his lips. “Now, let’s see if we can’t make you squirt again...”

Ragu: @dystopicjumpsuit @clonemedickix @freesia-writes @littlemissmanga @wolffegirlsunite @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @sinfulsalutations @523rdrebel @sunshinesdaydream @moonlightwarriorqueen @sev-on-kamino @starrylothcat @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @mandos-mind-trick @idontgetanysleep @eyeluvmusic21 @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sleepycreativewriter @bobaprint @lem-hhn @thorsterstrudle @droids-you-are-looking-for @goblininawig @cw80831 @dreamie411 @jedi-hawkins @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @9902sgirl @originalcollectionartistry (if you'd. like to be added or removed, click here!)

#hunter x reader #tbb hunter x reader #so good for me #rhiwrites #rhiplies #tbb x reader #the bad batch x reader

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precious-little-scoundrel · 23 days

Text

| Ida’s Law

Introductory Part

Summary: The American War Effort had conceded to the enlisting and commissioning of women into the Air Force at semi-integrated status. Deemed a more reliable if not safer combat post, the going rank of officer in the Air Force was intended to secure fair treatment and combatant status for these women, as it had for their male counterparts. Like most things in war -or life, if one is a woman- such recognition must be fought for.

Warnings: disturbing content- if you made it through last one this one should be a breeze, however it picks up where we left off so expect mentions of war, wounds, illusions to past rapes, Nazis being racist fucks, possibly some internalized misogyny about it all and some hopefully very 🥹🤧 reunions

A Note Going Forward: With this part now published, I am happy to open this series up for prompts. Ideally I’d like this series to end up being exclusively prompt-inspired and will be putting out prompt lists accordingly. I think that will be a fun way to keep the interaction going, stretch my own skills and explore all the different scenarios that may intrigue y’all. You’re welcome to come up with your own prompts, too. All are welcome, none guaranteed but let’s be real -I’m obsessed with this AU so I’ll likely do it. For now I’ll be keeping all writing to POW Camp and Liberation and Post-Liberation timelines.

“Well, what do we know?” Ida Brady asked the first officer out on the other side as they began to filter through the laborious processing of the camp. She counted them down, one familiar face after another appearing through the doorway again with no worse indignity than the new identification tags hanging from their necks.

“I hate a guy named Johann, and I like a guy named Fritz, and the lieutenant guy wasn’t bad.” Maureen declared, straightening her precious cap atop muddy auburn tresses. “Who went and named their son Fritz after the last war? I mean really? Who does that to a kid? It’s like he’s making up for it now, though, awfully nice.”

“Mm, I thought so, too.” Ida hummed, “Might keep an eye on that one, work on him a bit. You think, Kendeigh?”

“Work on him yourself, Ida.” Maureen scoffed.

“Not much to work with.” Ida retorted, the first general reference to her disfigurement she’d made. “What do you know? What’s up?” she left off to inquire after Tallulah Smith who came out the other side of processing looking more than exasperated.

“Know? They don’t know squat.” she said, “Never heard of a Cherokee.”

“I’ll be.” Maureen was grinning sharply. “Wasn't enough being a woman for ya Smith, ya had to go and be a brown one.”

“You’re tellin’ me.” She griped, “They kept insisting I was a fighter pilot. That’s what all the ‘dark ones’ are, according to them. Told them I’d rewire their insides and maybe then they’d take my engineering degree seriously.”

“I’d like to see that.” Maureen murmured, drowsiness beginning to take over at the comparative calm of their new surroundings.

“Looks like we got everyone, yeah?” Ida peered over the heads of the crowing room and counted out her charges in a silent tally.

“Looks like.” Smith agreed. “Got billet assignments?”

“I do. Colonel Clark, most senior prisoner here, said the combines are strict but the rooms aren’t. Let’s try to behave until we feel our way, then we can swap, if they allow.”

“It’s going to smell like feet no matter where and who we share it with.” Smith pointed out and Ida heaved a great sigh as if that were the hardest prospect she’d yet encountered.

“Mm.”

“Buck is out there!” Maureen suddenly cried out, grabbing at Ida’s arm, pointing out the window at the muddy yard.

“How nice. Gotta get this sorted first, eyes in, Kendeigh.”

Maureen reluctantly tore her eyes away from her dearly missed pilot. “Yes sir.”

“All right,” Ida’s voice carried as well as it ever had, commanding immediate quiet and attention, “those in the 350th, 419th, -the hundredth!- on me. Gather ‘round. That’s it, come on. Alright, well, we made it, well done. Truly, well done to all of you. Now I know you well enough to not accuse any of you of being pure idiots, just because we made it to where we wanted to go doesn’t mean any of what’s ahead is going to be easy. Be wary, don’t let your guard down, you don’t know plenty of these men and they don’t know you, I’m sure there are measures in place for spying already. Be sensible. I am certain we can rely on the kindness of those in the hundredth, but even then keep in mind, if you are cold, they are too, if you're hungry, you best believe they are hungrier, the last thing we need is a crisis of chivalry in here. Rely on them, except their help, but don’t ever take from them. Understood? And one more thing, since the human spirit is irrepressible I feel it’s warranted to make one more housekeeping note. None, and I do mean none, no inner relations at all are allowed. I don’t care how cold you are, how sweet he’s been, or how much you’ve missed him. The Red Cross aren’t sending rubbers, and don’t ever take the promise of a pull out. Do you want a one-way ticket to a death camp or a bullet to the head? Get pregnant. Simple as that. You think the Jerries think poorly of you now for being female? Try being a matron. The point is to blend in as much as possible, keep that in mind. Whatever you do, keep that in mind. Understood?”

“Yes sir!”

“Colonel?” One voice demurred, raised hand and respectful title only forerunners for an obvious objection incoming.

“Yes? Sanchez, isn’t it? You’re not one of mine, I think.”

“No, sir, 55th -fighters.”

“Yes, well, welcome. What’s your question?”

“No offense sir but- what about the guards?” Sanchez asked.

“We don’t know yet,” Brady replied with typical candor, “I believe so far we’ve seen a mix here. I’m sure our friends can give us tips on who to watch out for.”

“No sir, sorry I meant-“ Sanchez kept her teeth clenched until her thoughts seemed to form better, “-you said no relations. What about the guards? No disrespect meant colonel and I don’t know about yours, but mine -they weren’t pulling out.”

“Mm.” Maureen thought that if Ida smashed her lips together any tighter they’d turn whiter than her skin, the bent aviators she had managed to preserve this entire time did a remarkable job of masking whatever feeling was stiffening her spine to the current degree, but all the same, her spine was stiff, “no offense taken, an excellent point. I’ll inquire about any possible…remedies. Anyone else?”

A multitude of hands shot up and Ida Brady scanned them with bewilderment until she realized her lapse in specificity. “Anyone else with questions, I meant! Saints alive. No? Good, let’s claim our bunks and see about a wash.”

After the dark interior of the building, being processed for hours, the hazy late afternoon light of outside glared painfully against Ida’s bloodshot eyes as she stepped out, leading the way down the three wooden steps to the muddy yard. Monochrome, this place, brown wooden buildings and brown earth and a muddy sky and brown flight jackets one after another.

And there in the midst of it, waiting for them with ever constant patience and thinned stateliness was Gale Cleven and his lost blue eyes and an alarmingly symmetrical set of facial scars.

“Major.” Ida felt her face soften into an odd expression she realized was likely that of relief. Cleven had that way about him, it was better suited to her preferences than Egan’s blustering warm hearted concern, Colonel Harding’s gruff joviality or her John’s perpetually intense concern. Her little brother was, oddly, nowhere to be seen now and that was a comfort in this wide open, highly observed space.

“Colonel.” Gale Cleven’s eyes weren’t a lost blue anymore but a pair of stormy seas and Ida steeled herself for pity. She found smoldering rage in his face instead. Another relief.

“How was it?” he was nodding to the command hut.

“Fine.” she assured.

He was searching for something in her face and Ida was sure it was easily found skin deep along her puffy, purpled left cheek, but if she had anything to do with her expression alone, he’d be kept guessing for ages. “Good.” he decided at last but his smile was tight, “Made John wait in the combine, he’s in there pacing like a madman. They make a note of who’s attached to whom, Colonel,” he explained, “a more discreet reunion seemed in order.”

“We’d appreciate all the direction you—“ Ida had begun but was cut short by Lt. Kendeigh who broke ranks from the processed group and came out of the hut behind Ida like a bat out of hell, running up to Cleven and tackling him in a hug, rather like a dog with their long lost master.

The Major’s lanky frame staggered under her surprise attack, perhaps more from shock and ill preparedness than poor rations and a weakened constitution. Or at least Ida, hoped that was the case.

Well, there went all intentions for discretion about partiality on their part, five seconds had gone by and Maureen still hadn’t let go, her valued cap about ready to knock off her head and his too. Seeing the gig was up, Cleven even belatedly brought an arm up to hug her shoulders, his pleased face bashfully pacifying her intensity. “If it isn’t my favorite bombardier.” Cleven mumbled, his lips failing not to tug upwards in the tiniest of smiles, and he gave her a pat on the back.

“Buck!” Smith was coming in hot behind Kendeigh and knocked Ida’s shoulder in her haste to get around her and join in. “Thank Jesus you’re here.” she grunted as she squeezed him and Kendeigh both, “I mean -we’re sorry you’re here but since we’re here-“

“Glad you’re here, too, Smith.” he assured her gently, another pat on another back and Ida watched Cleven’s composure began to flake as he took stock of their roughened appearances. “It’s gonna be ok now.” he offered, and coming from someone else that statement would’ve sounded a great deal less impressive than it did coming from him. It also sounded hollow without Bucky’s typical parroting of the upbeat sentiment. “Let’s get you girls sorted.” he nodded at Ida who fell in alongside him, if only to distance and displace Kendeigh and her over familiarity just a tad.

“What’s your Kommandant like?” Ida asked by way of conversation as Gale directed them in a trudge along the brown paths towards his specified hut.

“Think I know him as well as you.” Gale admitted, “Tried to stay low, been no reason for socializing. Wouldn’t advise a trip to the camp doctor though.” He added the last part after a beat.

“Why?”

“Your Johnny says he’s got an experimental mind.” Gale smiled wryly but there was a grieved look behind it that made Ida’s pulse pound in alarm, “If you go in with a cold, you might come out with a radioactive arm instead.”

“Noted.” Ida muttured with a shiver, wishing to god her jacket hadn’t been taken off her a couple stops ago, the sun was waning in the dull sky and the breeze was frigid without it. “Speaking of doctors,” she decided to go for it, “is Johnny -my John- is he alright? At the gate it was such a racket, was he…standing?”

Gale paused in his step up into the combine, brows knitted in surprise and she noticed along with him that their little march had drawn quite a little audience from the fellow inmates. Females in a Stalag -what a novelty. “Yeah, John’s fine. He’s fit.” Gale still had that quizzical look on his face.

Ida swallowed hard and gave him another curt nod, one she wanted to come across as grateful but wasn’t sure it did, her battered cheek was responding less and less to her mind’s commands. “Right. This us?”

“Yeah. Figured we’d try to keep as many close as possible.” He explained, “Welcome to paradise.”

“What did y’all name this shack?” Maureen asked him as she stepped over the threshold, it was dark inside and smelled of lumber and smoke.

“We haven’t.” Gale admitted, forlorn at the realization that things like that didn’t occur to people like him. If Bucky had been here, he’d have had it named in an hour, and something awful, too. Something that would make them all laugh.

“Damn oversight, Gingerale.” Maureen teased merrily but Cleven noticed the dimming light in her eyes as she took in the cramped, uninspired utility of the place. One wooden doorway after another.

“Talked it over with Colonel Clark during your processing,” Gale said, “decided it were best if we mingle you all among the men we know. Boys from your squadrons, friendly faces. A few of you in each room.”

“I call dibs on yours.” Maureen unabashedly grinned up at Cleven but Ida saw how a heartbroken look of protectiveness skittered across his features.

“Alright.” he muttered without a fight for once.

“Mm, Smith, Sanchez, Tong, you in here.” Ida decided and having snapped her fingers she was moving on to the next stuffy room. Asking Cleven at each about their current occupants, and with the precision of memory required of a woman who had to memorize her opponents on the promotional ladder, chose their new bunk mates accordingly.

“And where’s Johnny bunked?” she asked him in a low tone as she watched the next set settle in from the doorway.

“In with me, further down the hall, Demarco, Hambone, a few others.”

Ida seemed to hesitate as she eyed up an extra bunk in the current room that the last of her girls were settling into.

“Don’t be a stick, colonel,” Maureen spoke up gently, a surprising liberty even for her, “you need friends right now. Bunk with us. Everyone’s going to be fine. Can’t be all places at all times, ya know?”

Ida didn’t reply but after a moment she admitted, “I should go see John.”

Gale and Maureen exchanged a look and then moved in unison to catch up to her as Ida Brady walked, brisk as if she were back home at Thorpe and about to pick a fight with Jack Kidd, down the long hall to one of the last rooms. “In here?” she asked Gale, pointing at the closed door -they liked to keep it so for warmth and privacy, and to acclimate the guards to it being closed when the radio was out.

“Yeah that’s us.” Cleven replied, reaching out and snagging Maureen back a step as Ida turned the handle. “Let’s give ‘em a minute.” he suggested, referring to the Bradys.

He held her jacket sleeve for a brief moment before turning it to grab her hand, he’d missed those hands. To his horror their usual calloused elegance was a swollen paw of bruises. “The hell, Maureen?” he whispered in shock, turning it over to examine it, grip strong around her wrist before she could pull away. “Who did this?”

Maureen did her best to shrug, “Some bitch stood on them.” she said simply, and surrendered the other hand for a similar heartbroken inspection.

Kendeigh was indeed not as visibly marred as Ida Brady or a few of the others, but still, Gale kept turning her crushed hands over and over, recalling with vivid agony the way he’d admired them at all manner of work before. To hurt them that way, to restrain her so meanly- “Maureen,” she’d never heard his voice dip so low, and his eyes were simmering where they cataloged her hurts, “what’d they do to you?”

“What’d they do to your face?” she shot back, perhaps more perturbed by the immaculately symmetrical scars on his once porcelain face than her own condition. Women expected the treatment they’d gotten, in some twisted way, but this on the other hand, it disturbed her.

Gale looked taken aback by her question and quickly dropped her hand to touch his right cheek as if to remind himself the scar was obvious to everyone. “Flak.” he replied a beat too late.

“Awfully precise.” she snarked.

“I asked you first.”

“I told you, a bitch stood on them.”

“I’m your superior officer.”

“Who it looks like someone had some fun with,” Maureen snapped back, “who did this?”

“What happened to you?” He hit right back but his voice quavered.

“I’m fine now. I wanna go see the boys. Come on.”

“Just- give them another minute.” Gale insisted, pulling her back away from the doorway again, “It’s a lot.” He reminded, “For a brother to see his sister like -that.”

Maureen couldn’t argue with that, besides Gale looked so sad and more fragile than she’d ever seen him, and the gentle hold he had on her jacket was as needy and scared as a child’s. “I’m glad we’re in this together.” she whispered.

“Me too.” he admitted, guilty and sad over how true that was before letting her press her lips to his.

Ida Brady didn’t know what she expected when she opened the door, not much she supposed, just a living brother with any luck. It was a decently tidy room, plates stacked on a rough hewn board at the far end, eight bunks lining the walls, stacked three tall. A table was in the middle and there sat dear old Crank and Hambone too, Murph with Benny. A card game was ongoing.

They looked so fine, quite normal, all in all.

All motion in the small room stopped upon her entrance. Cards were dropped and cigarettes forgotten in open mouthed shock.

“Holy shit -colonel?” Demarco didn’t have a dishonest bone in his body, and his disbelieving horror over her appearance came through loud and clear in his greeting. She hadn’t seen him at the gate.

The same for Hambone’s face, one that had never bothered to be discreet in pleasant circumstances, much less in shocking ones like seeing a notorious superior officer come in looking about as battered as a body could get -although his torn cheek was one to talk. Crank recovered first, in his mild, stammering sort of way, glancing at the lean figure who still stood looking out the lone window.

“Well, if it isn’t Ain’t Pretty Brady.” Crank clapped uneasily, summoning her nickname from basic just to cut the tension, it served to startle John.

He turned from the window abruptly, blank faced and unblinking as he realized the sister he had been watching for had already arrived. If their ole nan from the motherland had suddenly materialized before him he could have hardly looked more haunted or aghast, wide fringed fox eyes and that straight fold of a mouth -always so very held together, her little brother. Even after his third belly landing.

But those startled unblinking eyes...

Ida wanted to tell him to blink, that it was all alright now, that they were both alive and that it was good enough, it had to be. But she seemed to have fully lost all power over her throbbing cheek at last, she could feel her lips move in a motion she realized with supreme panic was likely a wobble of emotion. She ripped her aviators off, as if seeing her eyes might help his to come alive.

“John John?” she croaked in greeting, oblivious of the childish endearment tumbling off her lips in a room full of soldiers. If it were something their family was in the habit of doing, Ida Brady might have rushed him like Maureen did her pilot, or held out her own hand to be held, asked for a gesture from him -after what she’d gone through, surely it couldn’t have been weakness to want a clap on the shoulder, a flick to the bicep, a little “well done” for staying alive.

But she just stood there and watched him clock her shame. She could feel her swollen lip splitting in real time as the swelling and incessant trembling tore the taut skin apart, they’d passed around a single canteen in processing and it wasn’t enough, the walls of her throat felt collapsed together. Maybe she should have asked for a mirror first, maybe Cleven or Kendeigh or Smith should have told her she’d bring a whole room to a frozen standstill by her looks alone. They’d seen her at the gate -were these meager lightbulbs really so much more illuminating?

“Eye-eye.” Johnny let it out in a breathy rush as if he’d suddenly come to, and then he was in front of her, hands cradling the sides of her neck, thumbs hooked gently under her bruised jaw. A calloused pad swiped away the ticklish trickle of blood sliding the crease of her mouth.

Eye eye -his onetime baby babble for Ida, and she’d never let him forget it.

She could have wept at the useless sentimentality of it, of the gentle familiarity of familial hands, at the seething loyalty storming across his face.

“The fuck did they do?” he articulated at last, voice gravelly as shit but also reminiscent of the squeaky olden days when his castrato role suddenly no longer served one Sunday in choir.

“You’ve got legs.” she answered instead, sounding maniacal in her happiness.

He looked at her like she’d gone fully crazy as well as beat, “Yeah? Yeah I do.”

“They said, they said you didn’t.” she chuckled, a bizarre merriment trying to take hold in her relief, “During interrogation, that bespectacled cunt told me you had your legs crushed when you crashed.”

“No? No- no I jumped.” He insisted, then let go of her face to step back and gesture to two fit legs, as long and lanky as she remembered, as long and lanky as her own. “I jumped, I’m fine. They told you that?”

“Yeah.” Ida said, “Told me the longer I didn’t comply the longer you were without medical attention. I -I’ve been so…uneasy…about you.”

“I’m fine.” He repeated, hands back on her shoulders and she was grateful for it despite the bruises he was gripping, grateful for the way he kept touching her like he was going to hold her together with his own two hands, same blood, same flesh, same memories, maybe whatever she’d lost he could supply back like a blood donation. “Those sons of bitches.” he cursed them.

“Plasma for planes.” she agreed.

He kept looking at her, at her cheek and at her ragged hair and at the missing buttons, “You didn’t tell them anything did you?” he suddenly asked, wide eyed. “You know i’d rather die than have you tell.”

Ida scoffed, and gave him a grin, the best one she could manage with her cheek and split lip, “What do you take me for, Johnny?”

“A cold hearted bitch, I hope.” he returned the small smile but his voice cracked, still that hint of something long gone and juvenile.

“That’s what their Lieutenant called me.” Ida confirmed, a little proud, and sensing a renewal of his inquiries, Ida chose to take the offensive and call out for a conspicuously absent Kendeigh, “Candy! Didn’t you want to tell Johnny about your charming admirer? The Lieutenant?”

Kendeigh came round the doorway hastily, her lips puffy and cheeks oddly red. Cleven followed after and matched her, and his blush did nothing but highlight those scars of his. “Brady.” Maureen greeted, boldly hugging Ida’s very stiff brother without care —due to his red cheeks and rigid shoulders Ida concluded Cleven had given his own inner-relations talk to the men—, “Yes, I wanted to -oh hello Crank, Benny you son of gun- wanted to tell y'all about my ticket outta here -hell Hambone, how’d you manage to get uglier? -see my integrator, he found me fairly fetching. I think one of these days he’s gonna roll up in his shiny car and take me away from here and you’re all gonna wish you’d taken time to learn a little know-how about Alligators and their hibernation tactics in the winter. He was enthralled.”

There was an awkward silence hanging in the room, Crank grimaced a smile out of sheer generosity of heart and Benny Demarco still sat with his cigarette neglected on his open lip. Cleven, used to her preening brazness kept a tight lip, though a thousand questions seemed to swirl in his eyes.

“He the one who stood on your hands?” John Brady asked her without hesitancy.

Maureen whirled round then, comedy hour over and an angry flush creeping up her neck at his directness. “No.” she snapped. “Can’t some of them be alright?”

“A German’s a German.” he countered.

“There’s Fitzs and then there’s Johanns.” she disagreed nebulously and only Ida got her reference.

“And a shower is a shower,” Ida butted in before this became an experiment in an immovable object meeting an unstoppable force “which we need, badly. We’re…filthy.”

“We’ve got working sinks, trough sinks.” Cleven clarified with an apologetic look as if it were his fault the showers only ran once a week and poorly at that, and the water they had was frigid already in autumn.

“Water is water.” Ida reasoned in return, wondering when Johnny was going to finally let go of her arm.

“We’ll clear it out for ya.” Cleven said.

“And we’ll guard the entrance.” John added emphatically.

“Thanks.” Ida muttured, “Some of us could use to mend our uniforms.” she added, refusing to blanch at the subtle inventory of her jagged tears and crusted blood being made by every man in the room.

Maureen at least had her jacket intact. Her cap, too.

“Here, you can have my trousers while I stitch yours.” her John decided and was unbuckling his belt before she even registered the hand gone from her shoulder.

“What?” Ida balked, “You’re going to go ‘round in your skivvies?”

“Not as uncommon around here as you’d think, Ida.” Gale said, a small smile on his face. “I’m afraid order and decorum has gone to shit without you.”

“Well I’m here now.” she replied sternly but didn’t stop Johnny as he stripped.

“And so am I.” Kendeigh grinned and all Ida could do was to bless the saints for having let only one terror into the camp, were Bucky Egan to be here too, things would become intolerably lax. As soon as she thought it she repented it, sending up a prayer for the poor, absent bastard.

“Say Benny, you’re shorter, can I have your pants?” Maureen pleaded.

“Why mine?” Demarco protested, only offended at the height implication.

“Because Cleven’s too tall and I’ve already been in his pants.”

“Maureen!”

“Ida, order somebody to give me their pants.”

“You can have mine.” Crank offered kindly, and then stood up and bashfully began to unlayer. It left him in skivvies, a snuggly sweater and his flight jacket.

“It’s a good look, Crank,” Maureen grinned at the finished product as he handed the trousers over. “I’m seeing you in a different light.”

“Maureen!”

“Just sayin-“

“Take the pants with you to the washroom!” Brady interjected desperately as Maureen looked ready to strip right here and now. “Jesus, Kendeigh.”

“Touchy, touchy.” Maureen ribbed him, out for blood in her tired state and if she couldn’t have that of the Germans she would of her friends’.

“Alright let’s - let’s settle down.” Gale implored, a tired expression firmly etched onto his face and Ida herself considered giving up on the wash altogether and tumbling into the available bunk to court the oblivion of sleep. Were it only blood and dirt she just might, her usual tidiness be damned.

As it was -it was, there was…the filth was so much worse.

And if Ida thought on it too long she’d go mad and want to pour boiling lye on herself to wash herself clean and to kill the shame of it. She’d have to scrub the pants before she gave them to Johnny to be mended, it was bad enough for a brother to see the blood and busted seams.

“Yes, settle down for God’s sake.” she echoed Cleven, and something about her hoarse voice compelled Maureen to temper herself more than any direct order could. “A wash, come on, let’s get the girls. Oh and one more thing, Cleven-“ Ida turned to Gale and found him alert, eager to help. She was afraid she was only setting him up for failure but she had to make an effort to find those “remedies” she’d promised Sanchez. “There any lemons around?”

The incredulous look on his face suggested he thought she knew better, but he was ever polite in his reply, “No, colonel. No lemons.”

“Mm. Nutmeg?” she tried to recall each wicked trick she’d heard condemned when a girl got herself in the family way without the needed family in place.

“No, no nutmeg.”

“Mm.”

“Nothing but potatoes and cigarettes, ma’am. Do you- why?” he asked.

“Nothing.” she assured, “Just, a hot toddy sounds good right about now. You know?”

“Uh,” he floundered, half in suspicion and half in genuine confusion, “never had one.”

“Well then,” she grinned as she passed him, “that’s something to add to our to-do list for when this is all over. Jameson, though, none of that Kentucky stuff.”

“Yes ma’am.” his tone was vacant, smiling concern brittle, “You uh, you alright, Colonel?”

Ida gave him a withering look and then Gale too, had cause to be repentant.

“Come on Kendeigh, let's get the rest.” Ida gestured as she followed Gale back into the hall, aware of Johnny’s eyes still on her, still taking stock, “They better not be in bunks without a wash. Come on, showers, everyone! Out, come on out. You can sleep afterwards. Out! Would one of you be so kind as to wake us up in time for roll call?” she inquired of the male officers straggling behind her in the hall.

“Course! Yeah, for sure.” about five offers went up.

“You wake Me up.” she clarified coming to a full stop, wary of the enthusiasm, “I’ll wake up the rest.”

“I’ll get you up.” Her John said.

He’d probably sit and watch her sleep, too, needle and torn pants in hand, like a creepy little owl but that was one of those things she figured make or break a family, you either find it endearing you have a brother who rarely blinks or you go mad. Today, after all of it, she didn’t mind having a guardian Angel. Or a watchdog. Speaking of-

“Hey,” she asked him, “you two flew out together, where’s Bucky?”

But no one had an answer for that, not even Little John.

💋Hope you enjoyed AND REMEMBER -prompts are now open.

Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

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#masters of the air #mota #mota fanfic #mota oc #Intergrated au #those who can #john egan #john brady #gale cleven #benny demarco #gale cleven x oc #john egan x oc #john brady x oc #Maureen Kendeigh #Ida Brady #Tallulah Smith

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auspicioustidings · 7 months

Text

Firewatch Part 2

Summary: You wake up in the Fire tower confused and going through sedative after effects and shock.

Words: 2.1k

CW: None

Confusion was the first thing. You were confused. It was such an effort to get your eyes to open. Maybe you had caught a cold? You groaned at the idea and rolled over in bed to try and grab at another pillow, finding your forehead hitting against something solid. Why were your sheets so scratchy? Oh no, you could smell smoke, you knew you shouldn't have done that rewiring by yourself.

"There, you're ok. Sorry, I must smell bad right? Would've changed into sweats but you seemed so content right here that I didn't want to move."

That certainly got your attention. You rolled back half way, letting your eyes open to look up at the man whose lap your head was in. The yellow glow from the lights above him made him look like an angel with that bright smile of his.

Kyle felt his heart nearly stop when you brought fingers to his cheek, looking up at him all adorable and soft. He knew it was the drowsiness from the sedative wearing off that had you so slow and touchy, but who was he to stop you? That was an impossible thing to ask of him when he watched the way your brows furrowed cutely in confusion. You were so much prettier up close.

"Who...?"

"My name's Kyle, everyone calls me Gaz though."

"Hmm" you sighed, your mind trying to just focus on one thing to try and ground. "Kyle... s'a pretty name." You could hear the slur in your voice and it made you frown. That didn't sound like you at all. Weren't you supposed to be in bed?

"Think any name would be pretty if you said it luv," Kyle said, his smile making you want to smile too.

You lay like that for a while, just looking at him while your brain tried to take account of your body. He was playing with your hair you realised after a while, gentle and relaxing. He was in a compression shirt and you could see a firefighter's jacket thrown over the back of the sofa you were on. Oh, that was why it had felt scratchy beneath you and smelled of smoke, he must still be wearing the bottom half of the suit. Wait, why were you on a cute firefighter's lap again? You shot up, feeling a rush of dizziness from the suddenness of the movement that was only somewhat soothed by the hand that had been playing with your hair going to rub circles on your back.

"Dosia!"

"Dosia?"

"My cat! What... what happened?"

Kyle knew Dosia was your cat. They had figured that out as she had been rubbing up against Price and Johnny had tried very hard to get her to do the same to him without much success. Johnny said it had been close enough to your cottage that they heard you call on her. That was months ago. He didn't want to say that they had been stalking your cat through the woods whenever she went wandering so that they could make the little thing like them, but that had sort of been what it was. Not that Price had needed to, Dosia loved him and Simon almost as immediately as she had hated him and Johnny. At least she didn't hiss at them anymore, just tolerated them. Good thing since she was their cat now as well.

"Oh right that's who she belonged to! We picked up a little cat in the forest nearby after the fire, she's fine. Do you remember the fire?"

"Oh God, I nearly died. I... did you save me?"

You turned on the sofa to look at him. If only you knew the sight you made, on your knees, hands planted on the sofa in the gap between them, looking up at Kyle with those big confused doe eyes. Price had said he should lie to you when he needed to, and it felt very much like he needed to lie to you. It wasn't like he hadn't been part of the team that saved you, even if it wasn't him behind that mask that had been cradling your head so gently after hauling you out of the flames.

"I will always save you."

He had turned his body slightly as well to be in line with you and the absolute reverent sincerity of the statement caused your breath to hitch. Dosia was safe, you were alive, there had been a fire. Everything was hazy and you felt weak and dizzy and through all that was this beautiful man who had saved you looking at you like you hung the stars. It was intense and you could feel the heat of the fire on your skin and feel the smoke in your nostrils and see your whole life going up in flames as the memories came leaking back.

You didn't want them, you wanted anything else but remembering exactly what had happened. The only thing that you needed to know was that you had been laying there looking up at this man in a mask, the man who had carried you out of there. And he was telling you that he'd save you again if it came to it.

Kyle watched it happen, watched as you were experiencing everything again. Couldn't do it, couldn't just let you spiral. Maybe it would be the healthy thing, let you process it all. But the healthy thing would inevitably calm you down, get you asking the right questions and wanting to get out of here and start building your life back again. The healthy thing would make you leave because he didn't know what lie they were going to tell to get you to stay. And he couldn't have that.

It was easy to have all that sudden building dread and terror convert to heat when Kyle lunged forward and pressed a desperate kiss to your lips. You threw yourself into it, instantly all teeth and tongues and oh you were on your back on the sofa now and his big, safe body was over yours, hand dancing up your side and making your nerves spark. You couldn't keep still, hands grabbing at his face then his hair then his neck, anything to keep him from leaving you.

His knee was settled between your legs to keep him steady and you accidentally bit his tongue when he pressed closer to give you friction. He pulled back with a sharp cry and you just panted up at him in shock and utter embarrassment. Practically ravishing a man you had only met hadn't made you go red but biting his tongue like an idiot because you had gotten a little over excited had heat flooding your cheeks.

"Dinnae stop on our account."

Oh God, there were 3 men walking into the room. The room that you were splayed out on the sofa in, hair mussed, lips swollen and skin flushed. They weren't dressed like fire fighters but they were all large and fit looking.

The one who had spoken looked pissed off. He was shorter than the others but broad, soft mohawk haircut and sharp blue eyes. He was ruggedly handsome in jeans, boots and an old rugby hoodie. You liked his accent you thought, would like it better if he didn't seem angry with you. They must be the other fire fighters who were off duty now. They would have been there at the cottage. They would have risked their lives to stop the fire, barely made it home and gotten cleaned up and then come to relieve Kyle only to find you with your tongue down his throat.

You pushed frantically at the chest above you, giving yourself just enough room to be able to twist your limbs around his and roll off of the sofa to the floor, scrambling to stand and straighten yourself out. By the time you had made it to your feet one of the other men was already there, ready to catch you when your legs went to jelly and collapsed out beneath you.

"Woah there little bird, you need to go slow for a bit, don't have your legs back yet. Not that Garrick would have helped," he said, only sliding a short, stern glance at Kyle before returning his full attention to you.

He was older, handsome in a way that was cosy. When his eyes were on you, you could see his smile in them. It went a little ways to calming you, but you couldn't help but glance at the Scottish man and the other man standing moodily by him in a balaclava. You could not believe the situation you had found yourself in, having to cling as gingerly as you could to someone to stay on your feet after being caught making out with one of his colleague like a horny teen.

"I- sorry, I'm ok now I think" you said, mortified and off kilter.

He didn't fully let go of you, keeping his hands gently grazing your elbows as you caught your balance and took a moment to get some solidness about you. There was a wild thought in your head that he smelled nice, like pine and suede, and suddenly you felt disgusting. You were filthy, covered in sweat and ash and it was ridiculous that Kyle had even wanted to kiss you in this state. You wanted to be clean, you wanted to be clean and bundled up in blankets with Dosia and a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

Johnny wasn't mad at you, never at you. He wasn't even properly mad at Gaz, just jealous. He had always been a bit of a jealous bastard, hell he had been green when Dosia had instantly taken to Simon over him. Price he could understand, anyone would like that man, but Simon? Simon who didn't even like the cat? Infuriating. So when he came in after having to play nice with the police, after Price had made him shower and change before basically sprinting back to you, and saw golden boy Kyle Garrick on top of you? Absolutely committing the deadly sin of envy with gumption.

It wasn't until Simon had elbowed him hard in the ribs and he had went to growl at him that he actually paid attention. Simon nodded his head to you and Johnny actually looked, saw the state you were in. You were shaking, trying to touch Price as little as you could without falling over. God he wanted to kiss you until you forgot your own name. Thought about it too, was ready to march over and scoop you up until Simon elbowed him again before leaning down to speak in hushed tones to him.

"She wants to get clean and changed. Offer to take her back already."

Johnny side-eyed him, but he trusted Simon. Owed him his life actually, he had got him through a hell of a bad situation once with nothing but radio comms. So instead of going over all confident romantic hero like he wanted he instead put on a winning smile and approached like you were a scared animal.

"Hi bonnie, sorry if I scared ye. Name's Johnny. That's John, but we all call him Price tae keep it from getting confusing. This one is Simon." That's it, nice and soft and gentle so you would relax and want to come home with them. "Ye've been through a right shitemare of a day, so for now let's get ye a hot shower, some food and a reunion with yer kitty cat eh?"

You blinked at him, looking at Price and Simon and seeing them both waiting for you to respond. You couldn't look at Kyle, shyness now creeping in after the rush of adrenaline had worn off. It was like Johnny had completely read your mind because right now that sounded absolutely like the only thing that would make you yourself again. You nodded and Price scooped you up despite your little yelp of protest, chuckling warmly about how you didn't have shoes on so you couldn't very well walk outside.

Kyle waited until you were well out of earshot before swiping at Johnny, the Scot anticipating the move and dodging out of the way with a mean laugh.

"Shit timing you git."

"Naw, think ma timing was fucking astounding actually. Good of ye to teach her what a shite kiss feels like so I'm even more impressive in comparison."

Simon rolled his eyes and left them to play fight, falling into step quietly with Price. If Johnny thought he would be the next one kissing you, he was about to be disappointed.

#cod #cod au #fanfic #tf 141 x reader #gaz x reader #mhairiwrites #it is hard to do continuations and have them be anywhere near as good as the original because I actually have to start doing plot :(

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apple-orchards-writings · 3 months

Text

Android Kylar

TW: typical kylar things, breeding, voyeurism if you squint, yandere things really

NSFW under the cut

You find them in a dark alleyway, slumped over by the trashcans and unresponsive. Some of their parts seem to be stripped, showing their wires, and they just look so pitiful, you can’t help but bring them home to fix them up. As soon as you get to your garage, you get started, and change their casing, rewire faulty parts, and give them a fresh coat of paint where needed before bringing them to your living room and turning them on. Their eyescreens activate, revealing a beautiful green, and they look at you with a mix of wonder, trepidation and uncertainty. You introduce yourselves while they adapt to their newly improved condition, and recount how you found and helped them. The moment it clicks that they’re not in immediate danger, they spring up and beg you to keep them, offering to make themselves useful around your house in any way they can. Stunned by their outburst, you hesitantly agree. Congrats, you’re now the owner of a very enthusiastic android !

You’re not sure what exactly Kylar was made for, and nothing turns up when you search for anything that remotely resembles their model, so you only have their word to go off of. They insist they were built for companionship and domestic help, but their cooking and cleaning skills are subpar at best. They seem to be much better suited for work with electronics, if the upgrades they made for you are anything to go by, but it seems to be a bit of a sore spot for them, so you make sure not to bring it up. And hey, they’re getting better, you only had to order take out twice this week !

Kylar is determined to “make it up to you”, even if you tell them over and over that there’s no need, they’ll protest and argue that you saved them, therefore you should get to use them however you please. You try to ignore the weird twinkle in their eye as they beg you to let them “service” you.

They genuinely believe themselves to be your possession, your object, despite all your efforts to help them develop more independence. Kylar will cling to you as closely as they can, and their preferred charging spot is in your room, so they can “watch over you”. Should you need them at any point during the night, they want to be ready, so staying close is best, right ?

Kylar desperately wants you to stay home as much as possible, and they’re not afraid to influence their image in your eyes, telling you they’re afraid something will happen to them again the moment you leave, and you know going outside is so frightening for them, won’t you please stay inside with them, where you can quell their fears and protect each other ? They’ll keep a tight grasp onto you, bringing you in an unyielding hug, hiding their face from you, concealing your view of their triumphant smile when you sigh and agree to stay in.

NSFW:

The second they convince you to make use of their sexual functions (after weeks of begging and not letting you relieve yourself by popping up and demanding your attention), Kylar will introduce you to the wonderful world of customization. If you have the will and money (even if you don’t honestly, Kylar’s not above stealing for you) you can obtain whatever bits you want them to sport. Want to finger them and eat them out while torturing their clit and edging them? Done. Want to be double penetrated as they suck on your nipples? Yes, please. Point is, Kylar is willing to do anything as long as it’s with you, and you like it, so don’t be scared to stick on the weirdest “attachments” you can find and go to town.

They do, however, have a few favorites. Specifically, the ones that can help them mimic breeding you or being bred by you? Think things like squirting dildos, self lubricating pussies… And you know, since they’re an android, there’s no chance of pregnancy, so there’s no need for condoms, pills and all those useless things, you see ! Just ignore the TV’s reports on those sperm banks and the like being robbed, it’s not important, just focus on them, they need to give you more marks.

Kylar gets an amusing variant of their typical jealousy here, since they so strongly believe themselves to be your item, your plaything. All the toys you could have possibly owned before finding them are thrown out or destroyed, Kylar is the best and only toy you could possibly own, don’t degrade yourself with those mediocre gadgets! They’re the only one good enough for you, the only one you need, they can make you cum the best and the fastest and the strongest so please, use them ! They’re yours, you’re their owner, only you, and they’re your favorite, right ,right ?

#i feel like this kylar's self esteem is only based on you so they're even more possessive #because without you theyre literally nothing #kylar the loner #dol #dol kylar #apple's writing

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ebongawk · 3 months

Note

pls show us how eddie would ask chrissy to marry him ❤️❤️❤️

The ring was burning a hole in his pocket.

The ring had, in fact, been burning a hole in his pocket for, like three goddamn months now. Because he'd been kinda-sorta-basically flying by the seat of his pants this entire relationship, up to and including his potential proposal, and three years of accidentally tripping and stumbling into all of the right messes with Chrissy made him think he could just buy the goddamn thing and wait for the most opportune moment.

The ring itself was an unanticipated surprise. Eddie had been shopping for a new-to-him amp, and buying those off the belt was a mistake he'd never make again. Rewiring older models with newer technology was basically Henderson's forte, though, so every time he and Chrissy popped back into Hawkins to visit Wayne during their long stints on the road, Eddie had a couple projects that Dustin's eager little mitts made grabby hands at.

(If Eddie found another tech kid on the road, he was pretty sure Dustin would spit and hiss and claw the newbie's eyes out so he would never be able to touch Eddie's projects again. He fucking loved that little shit. Had no clue what he was gonna do when the kid went off to MIT in a few months.)

So, yeah. While Eddie had walked into that pawn shop with a singlemindedness, he'd still perused the aisles like a perfectly respectable patron.

And the ring had been right there. Grinning up at him from the display case a winking in the overhead lights when it caught his eye.

Chrissy was literally right up the street, struggling over which books she wanted to trade in at the used bookshop so she could read some new material. That was the worst part about being on the road – they never got to keep anything. Like, sure, yeah, they had some shit stored at Wayne's, but they couldn't pop into Indiana whenever Chrissy needed to drop off her books so they could fit new shit in the van.

If they could, Chrissy would have a veritable library by now. He'd told himself a year ago that, as soon as they hit a label, Corroded Coffin's first purchase would be Chrissy Cunningham's dream house so she could have shelves of books. The guys were all in begrudging agreement.

"Hey, uh," he'd said, grabbing the attention of the shopkeeper and pointing at the ring. "What's that?"

About six months ago, he and Chrissy had been walking a mall in search of a birthday present for Wayne when a jewelry store grabbed her attention. Eddie had kinda expected her to beeline for the engagement rings – and maybe that was his own underlying fantasy, honestly – but she hadn't. She'd gravitated toward birthstones, pointing out his and hers and Jeff's and Gareth's and Grant's and Wayne's, gushing about which looked best together in her opinion.

"That's a, uh, ring," the cashier said, looking down at the thing. "With, y'know, stones and shit."

"Very fuckin' descriptive, man, thanks," Eddie responded. "How much?"

"For you, kid? Twenty bucks."

"I'll give you fifteen for it and thirty for the amp."

"Deal."

He didn't even get a box. The guy had been 'fresh out', allegedly, so he'd given Eddie a little drawstring bag for it.

Which was fine. Easier to hide. He just had to remember to transfer it around his three pairs of jeans while they were doing laundry.

"Look, that's your birthstone," Chrissy had said that day at the mall. "A garnet. And mine's right there! Aquamarine!" She'd sighed. "If I had been born a day earlier, I would have been an amethyst. But our stones look pretty together, don't they?"

They did, in his humble opinion. And wouldn't you fucking know it, Eddie had found a garnet ring inlaid with two aquamarines on either side at a thrift store in fucking Norton, Kansas when they'd stopped at a motel for a couple days to rest before a show in Kansas City. He'd even had it assessed at a jeweler in Saint Paul a week later just to be sure.

The thing was legit. The jeweler had polished it and everything. From there, it was just actually proposing.

But, as the weeks wore on, Eddie had to wonder if his decision to wait for the right moment might've been a fucking mistake. What was the perfect moment? What if it'd already come and gone and he didn't even know it? What if it never happened and Chrissy got upset and left him before he had a chance? Did she even want to get married? They were still young, and, outside of her shitty high school relationship (that predated her amazing high school relationship with him, thanks so much), Chrissy had never really dated around. What if he popped the question and she laughed in his face?

(She wouldn't. He knew she wouldn't. But, shit, what if, y'know?)

So, yeah. That fucking ring had been sitting in his pocket for, like, ninety-seven days, whispering platitudes and anxieties in equal measure. Building him up and tearing him down at every opportunity, like it found joy in watching him rise higher and fall farther.

Or maybe that was his own stupid brain.

They'd been booked on a mini-tour to open for another band that was just a few steps beyond Corroded Coffin. The money was kinda shit, but last night, at their show in Reno, a few people had been wearing the merch they'd sold weeks prior at a show in Vegas, and that had made Eddie feel like a goddamn superstar. He'd played his fucking heart out, and Chrissy said they sold out at the merch booth before the headliner even took the stage.

He'd even been asked for autographs. What the fuck?

Afterward, he and Chrissy were squeezed together into their motel room's bathtub. It was entirely too small for the both of them, but Chrissy sat between his bent knees, letting the hot water and scented bubbles relax them after what felt like a ridiculously long night. As though he could ever really relax with Chrissy's naked body all wet and pressed against his.

Her head was on his chest, listening to the slow thudding of his heart as the radio played almost imperceptibly in the background. Chrissy had gone so far as to light a few candles, and on the floor next to them was an open bottle of wine they were taking turns sipping.

It had to be somewhere around two in the morning, and Chrissy was probably exhausted. But she knew Eddie was always off-the-walls after a show, so corralling him into a shared bath was to help him wind down.

"You did amazing tonight," she said, her fingertips tapping against his shin where her hand rested. "All of you guys, but you especially. You were electric up there."

"Did you even look at the other guys?"

"Of course! It's hard not to, but I always look at you the most. Promise."

"Pretty sure you're legally required to say that, as I'm the one who makes you co––"

"Eddie."

Laughing, Eddie pressed his lips to her crown. "Thank you, sweetness."

"I'm serious. Like, I think that was the show, you know?"

He knew what she meant. Their discovery show. The one where some talent scout was hiding out in the crowd because he'd heard Corroded Coffin's name making the rounds. The one where they'd be getting a phone call first thing in the morning asking to meet at an agency.

Their we finally fucking made it show.

"Unlikely," Eddie said, wet fingers brushing a few strands of loose hair back over her ear. "But I appreciate the vote of confidence."

Chrissy said nothing for a moment. Then, using some expert maneuvers won over years in dance and cheer, she pivoted, working her lithe little body until she was comfortably situated in his lap. Eddie's arms automatically wrapped around her, sinking lower into the water so she didn't go sliding off his slickened skin and into the faucet.

"You guys are amazing," she said without a hint of irony coloring her tone. Wet hands cupping his jaw, she nudged her nose against his. "You have a contagious stage presence and you play incredibly. There's no way you aren't going to make it. Got it?"

"Yeah?" Eddie asked, eyes on her lips. "You gonna be my little cheerleader the whole way?"

"I've been with you this far, haven't I?" she shot back, wearing that gorgeous grin he loved so much. "I'm not going anywhere, Eddie. You're stuck with me."

"Hey," Eddie said, affronted. "That's my line. Who's stuck with who?"

Wiggling her hips in his lap (which was... yeah, doing things), Chrissy smiled. "I think you're the one who's literally stuck here, love."

Tucking his thumb against her chin, Eddie just chuckled, drawing her in for a kiss that tasted of promise. Of this future she was certain would come to fruition, where they stood hand-in-hand as recognition fell upon the band. Because Chrissy had sacrificed so much for him, for all of them, and Eddie would be damned if he didn't have opportunity to return the favor.

Oh shit, he realized as she chased his lips for another kiss. This is it. This is the fucking moment.

And his pants are on the other side of the goddamn room.

Shit. Shit. Okay. He could make this work.

"Hey, uh." He smiled when she kissed him again, the wet skin of her squirming in his lap again as she made a little huff of disapproval. "Wait, wait, sweetness, hang on."

Chrissy blinked at him. One hundred percent caught off guard because Eddie had never turned down her advances before. (How could he? He had an actual goddess sitting naked in his lap. Who was he to tell her no when she wanted to, y'know, get closer?)

"Did I, um. Did I overstep?"

"No, fuck no, just, uh––" Grabbing Chrissy's long-handled loofa off the tub rim, Eddie set a firm hand on Chrissy's thigh, anchoring both of them as he leaned as far out of the tub as he could to drag his jeans toward them. Sloshing water out of the side and making Chrissy yelp his name as she grabbed his shoulders to hang on.

The handle slipped from his grasp, clattering to the floor with one pant leg right there. Eddie leaned further out, stretching his fingertips as Chrissy squealed. He heard the water splashing, but that just seemed a small price to pay.

Whooping in excitement, he managed to get a small piece of denim between his middle and ring fingers, yanking the jeans across the floor and digging around in the pockets for that fucking bag.

"Eddie! They're gonna get all wet!"

"They'll dry," he responded, finally finding the stupid ring bag in his back pocket. He dropped the jeans uncaringly into the puddle he'd created, resettling Chrissy against him and tangling his hands in her hair as he kissed her question of what he was doing off her lips.

"You know I love you, right?" he asked, a little breathless from the combination of half-crawling out of the tub and the spark from their kiss. Chrissy, wide-eyed and confused, giggled a little when she nodded. "Like, more than anything?"

"Yes, Eddie, I know."

"And I wanna spend, y'know, the rest of my goddamn life with you. You know that, too?"

Chrissy blinked, her smile fading with parted lips as realization seemed to dawn new horizons across her face.

"I-I mean, yeah," she said after he waited a second for her answer. "Eddie, what––"

"I, uh, picked this up a while ago," he admitted, brandishing the tiny bag. "Been waiting for, like, the perfect moment, I guess. But, I dunno. Kinda realized that, maybe all our moments are perfect, y'know?"

He opened the bag, tilting it so the ring fell into his opposite palm. Her eyes widened, jaw falling slack as she gasped.

"I just want to make more moments with you, Chrissy," Eddie said earnestly. "Before and after a quick trip to the altar, I mean."

"Oh, my God," she breathed, trembling fingertip reaching out and gently stroking the gold band. "Are you–– Are you serious?"

"You are the one thing in my life I am one-hundred-percent serious about, sweetness," Eddie replied, softly brushing a thumb against her cheek. She glanced at him, so briefly he almost missed it, but she couldn't take her eyes off the ring. "Marry me?"

"Okay," she said, voice still breathless. Blinking, she shook her head as though she were falling out of a trance, her eyes instantly filling with tears that spilled over her cheeks, mixing with the water of their bath. "I mean, yes, yes, of course, Eddie, oh, my God!"

Throwing her arms around him, Eddie heard more water as it splashed over the side of the tub. It made him laugh, burying his face in her hair and holding her close as she cried into his neck.

"I love you," she sobbed, pulling back and letting him open his fist so she could take the ring. "Oh, my God, and it's our birthstones!" The realization made her cry harder, and Eddie had to help her get the ring on her finger. "You remembered!"

"Of course I did," he chuckled, his own eyes wet with the amount of love he felt for this girl. "I remember everything you say to me."

"We both know that's not true."

"Okay, well, I make an effort, at least!"

She laughed through her sobs, pulling him in and kissing him soundly. Crying, laughing harder, then crying some more between desperately locked lips. Completely soaking his jeans next to the tub, but Eddie couldn't care less.

He had his fiancée in his lap.

"I love you," she gasped between kisses. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

"Love you, too, little wife," Eddie grinned. "So much."

Yeah. Perfect fucking moment.

#hellcheer #eddissy #eddie x chrissy #eddie munson #stranger things #chrissy x eddie #ask meme #hellcheer drabble #lil marriage proposal #anon ask #ebongawk ask #sorry this took 84 years anon

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softlyspector · 5 months

Note

Every vampire post I see makes me think of Sated, especially this one that got me thinking about when Joel gets hurt and immediately brings his wounds to reader’s attention so he doesn’t waste any blood. I think you’ve actually rewired my brain Becca 😭

I looooooove the vampire and Joel, I'm so glad its invading your brain too! Loyal snack Joel absolutely brings his wounds to his vampire. Of course he does.

A bit of vampire and Joel under the cut. As a treat.

Warnings: a little but smutty, but not smut. Blood drinking and wounds.

"Did you do this on purpose?" Your cool hands cradle his wrist in the kitchen neither of you really use, an open first aid kit on the counter between you, one you'd gotten just because of him.

Gently, you slide your other hand along his forearm to his elbow where you cup your palm. "Joel?"

"No, 'course not."

And he really hadn't.

He had been working on the built-in bookcase he promised you. Decades worth of precious books in need of a home he could build them and you.

Saw in one hand, wooden board in the other, distracted because he could hear you singing somewhere else in the house and the sound of it was sweet, the teeth of the tool had caught at his skin between one moment and the next.

It had been his first instinct to find you, bleeding, and offer up the blood welling at the jagged cut between his thumb and forefinger.

Something had caught up in his chest at the opportunity. You tried to limit how much you fed from him, and lately you'd been loathe to take much at all.

But now, the blood is already there, already spilling out. It'd be a waste not to let you lick it from his fingers, drink from the already open wound.

Your thumb smears through the bead of blood that threatens to spill down his palm. "I'm not hungry," you shake your head and wipe the blood on a cloth instead, holding it tight over the wound.

“Please sweetheart,” he begs. “I’m askin’ you to. I worry you ain’t gettin’ enough.”

Your face is pinched and he knows you want to and that you hate that you want to, resistant to your nature and the way he likes to give to you.

“You promise you didn’t do it on purpose?” You ask, eyes flicking up to meet his gaze.

“Swear it.”

“Sit down. I don’t want you to fall if you pass out.”

“I'm not gonna pass out.” But he does as you say anyway.

He takes a seat on one of the kitchen chairs and pulls you to stand between his knees, watching your eyes as you unspool the cloth from around his hand again. Want is sharp in your features, though the pinch of hunger is absent because you eat so well of late.

A satisfied feathering of pride brushes the underside of his lungs, because even if you drink from someone else, no one satisfies you like he does, like his blood can. You will feed from him now because you like the taste, because he's good to you, not because you need it.

Blood slips down his hand without the cloth, across his fingers and the lined, flat of his palm.

Your lick it away, starting at the base of his hand, eyes fluttering closed when you taste him and pull back a little. The thick red disappears into your mouth, coats the seam of your lips when you press them together. Your tongue slides out, pink stained dark, to sweep across your mouth.

It's gentle, this taking, because you don't have to bite and you aren't really hungry. It's nice, even without the drug of your venom making him loose and weak. Your taking, in any way, never fails to send a shock of arousal through his body.

You meet his eyes and slide his thumb into your mouth, sucking away the blood there, twisting your tongue against his skin. "Christ," he mutters and pulls you down onto his lap. Your legs go wide, settling around his hips.

When you pull back, you smile and then laugh a little. Blood streaks red on your chin and across your cheek. There's nothing about it that's not messy, evidence always marked everywhere of what he gives. "Think it's funny, huh?"

"You're just so willing to be my food, Joel," you tease and roll your hips against his, against his embarrassingly hard length.

He doesn't get a chance to answer, because your free hand is fitted against the back of his, raising the slash of his wound to the slash of your mouth. It's gentle at first, because you don't have to bite him, then harsh and heady as you suck and drink.

Joel strokes your spine with his free hand as you feed, feels each folded breath, the strain of your neck as you drink when he presses his palm against the back of your neck.

His head falls back when you make a satisfied noise, spine slumping with the pleasure that comes with the soothing of your hunger.

It doesn't last long, just long enough for the wound to clot a little from the pressure and stop bleeding. It isn't like when your teeth pierce him, two little pricks that seem impossible to close until you've taken your fill.

"There," you coo and lick your teeth. "All better." You stay on his lap, Joel's unharmed hand against your spine as you clean and bandage the cut.

"Didn't want it to go to waste," he tells you. "Y'need it."

Your eyes go soft and sweet, your kiss salted iron against his lips. "Need you."

The correction, he supposes, makes all the difference.

#joel miller x reader #sated drabble

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tinydefector · 6 days

Note

Could I request some human and Rung nsfw scenario? Maybe Rungs curiosity about human anatomy gets the better of him

Divine

Did I use this to write Wings of Primus AU yes, yes I did.

Wings of Primus AU

Rung x Human reader

Word count: 3.9K

Warning: Smut, religious experience. #Valveplug

Request and ask open, read pinned post

Rung's optics fixated on the human's back, his gaze drawn to the mesmerising sight of the gears and orb shifting and glowing with an ethereal light. As he observed this phenomenon,curiosity intertwined with a sense of guilt that gnawed at his spark. Every Time he saw them a small part of him felt guilty over the fact it was his wings that had fused to them.

How had this come to pass? How did the gears and orb become fused with the human's form? These were mysteries that tugged at Rung's inquisitive nature, but the fact that ancient Cybertronian technology had melded itself to a human did intrigued him.

A smile tugged at the corners of Rung's lips as they turned to look at him, their concern evident in their gaze. They sensed something was amiss, perhaps noticing his lingering optics and the weight of unspoken thoughts that hung in the air.

"Rung, is everything alright?" their voice is filled with genuine worry. Rung's optics flickered, momentarily caught off guard by the directness of their question. He quickly composed himself.

"Of course, my dear," Rung replied, his voice gentle yet tinged with a hint of wryness. "Just lost in my thoughts, you know how it goes. How have things been since Ratchet's examination?" He offered them a small, reassuring smile, attempting to deflect their concern.

“ It went well enough, getting sick of constant check ups, he can't really do much about the orb, it doesn't hurt, it's just kinda there, occasionally it transforms into wings, just don't understand why so many tests are needed” they reply.

Rung listened attentively as the human shared their experience since Ratchet's examination, his wry smile lingering on his lips. Their weariness and frustration over the constant check-ups is understandable and Rung couldn't help but empathise. After all, he was the reason this all happened.

"It's understandable to grow weary of the constant tests and examinations," Rung acknowledged, his tone sympathetically. "Ratchet's thoroughness can sometimes feel excessive, but he truly wants to ensure your well-being. As for the orb, he's worried for your safety."

It was a phenomenon that defied conventional understanding, and Rung couldn't help but be fascinated by it, He had encountered many enigmatic phenomena during his long existence, but this fusion of technology and organic matter was a rare occurrence, but this was different, it wasn't the same as techno organic, terraformers, no this was a part of primus that had literally melted into their body. It sparked his analytical mind, he himself did not know how it came to be, prompting him to ponder the possibilities and implications of such a unique integration.

"I can't help but be intrigued by the melding of organic and mechanical elements within your form, does it affect any of your functions?" Rung asked, his voice carrying a tinge of worry.

"It was kinda hard to get used to when it first latched onto me, kinda learnt my lesson not to go looking at shooting starts again, but it only hurt for about a week and it was sore joints due to extra weight, but don't know how Cybertronians work on the inside but its like its keeping my body healthy, it healed over the burns and fixed anything it rewired, kinda feels natural now"

He knew that living with something as extraordinary as the orb's fusion could be both a blessing and challenge.

“Rung your staring, is everything alright your not having a short circuit are you, do I need to get one of the medics?” They ask, head tilted while they move closer to him.

Rung had always been adept at masking his emotions, burying his own turmoil beneath a facade of calm and composure. It was a skill he had honed over vorns, allowing him to maintain a professional front.

However, the guilt continued to linger within him, a persistent ache that he couldn't easily dismiss. He couldn't help but feel responsible for the situation, The weight of that guilt pressed heavily upon him, tugging at his spark.

Rung's gaze returned to the gears and orb on the human's back, his optics tracing their intricate movements. He yearned to understand, to unravel the mystery that lay before him. "Yes, everything is alright," Rung reassured them, his voice softening with sincerity.

Deep down, he knew that eventually, the truth behind the gears and orb on the human's back would come to light. And when it did, he hoped they would forgive him. “Well back to the lesson I guess You did ask me to help you understand human anatomy, so guess you're gonna have to bear with me as we go along" they state. "So.. where do you want to start?"

He watched as they walked closer, their presence bringing a sense of warmth and familiarity. Rung's gaze softened, his wry smile transforming into a more genuine expression.

"As for where to start, I believe it would be best to begin with the basics," Rung suggested, his tone thoughtful. "Let's start with the major anatomical systems,”

Well humans have the skeletal system, that's our bone structure, muscular system which is our skin muscle mass and a few organs of ours, cardiovascular system, our heart and vein systems, pretty much the main ones we have." They grab Rungs servos as they guild him to different body parts explaining what they were and used for. Rung's knowledge of human anatomy was limited but enthusiasm for learning was evident, his desire to expand his knowledge.

"Rung your staring again, is there something on me, do i need to get ratchet to check my back again?" They ask while quickly turning around while attempting to check the orb.

Rung blinked, momentarily snapped out of his contemplative state. He couldn't help but chuckle at the human's playfulness.

"My apologies, my dear," Rung replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I was simply lost in thought, pondering the various similarities between humans and Cybertronians."

"One striking similarity lies in the presence of sensory organs. Just as humans have eyes to see, Cybertronians possess optics. Similarly, humans have ears for hearing, while Cybertronians have audio receptors. The ability to perceive the world through these senses is a shared trait."

He paused for a moment, allowing his words to settle. Rung's gaze softened, his expression thoughtful. "Furthermore, both humans and Cybertronians possess a central processing unit, so to speak. For humans, it is their brain, while for Cybertronians, it is their central processor. These neural centres enable complex processes, allowing for consciousness, decision-making, and emotional experiences."

Rung's voice carried a hint of excitement as he continued to unveil the similarities.

"And let us not forget the significance of the spark," Rung added, his voice taking on a reverent tone. "Just as humans have their hearts, the spark serves as the core of a Cybertronian's being. It is the seat of their life force, their essence. The spark is what defines a Cybertronian, just as the heart defines a human." One of his digits press lightly against their chest as he processes the sound of their heart beat, so similar yet different from a spark pulse.

Rung can feel the wings calling to his spark again as if they were calling though their heart. As the alluring feeling echoed in his processor, Rung couldn't deny the sharp pang of desire that surged through his circuits. His optics drank in the human's form, appreciating the unique beauty that lay before him. He leaned back in his chair, trying to maintain his composure despite the rising heat in his spark. Rung's gaze remained fixed on them, his optics betraying a mixture of curiosity and desire.

"I must admit, I find myself wondering about the intricacies of human interfacing," Rung confessed, his voice lowering to a more intimate tone. "It is a concept that Cybertronians are quite familiar with, as it serves as a means of connection, pleasure, and profound intimacy. I was wondering if humans have something similar" He wanted to delve deeper into the human experience, to explore the nuances of their desires and connections, and how different they are from Cybertronian.

They meet Rung's optics. “Rung, are you trying to proposition me?” They ask with a laugh, teasing him. Rung's optics widened slightly at the human's teasing response, caught off guard by their playful accusation. a rare display of embarrassment that betrayed his composed exterior. He quickly regained his composure, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Ah, I assure you that my intentions are purely intellectual," Rung replied quickly, shaking his servos while trying to save face, his voice laced with amusement. "As a psychiatrist, I have a natural curiosity about the intricacies of different species' experiences, including the concept of human interfacing." He paused for a moment, allowing his words to sink in before continuing, his tone retaining its intimacy and sincerity. “Oh I'm not helping my case” he mumbles.

They laugh, head thrown back as little snorts come from them before they settle. “I'm just teasing Rung, I promise, but your face oh my God it was priceless” they continue to giggle. Rung's optics flickered with a mix of relief and amusement “ cheeky i see” a gentle smile crossed his lips a hint of wryness lingers.

"you certainly know how to keep me on my pedes," Rung replied, his voice returning to its usual calm and composed tone. "I must admit, your playful nature caught me off guard for a moment there."

“Please continue Rung i just couldn't help myself” they reply waiting for him to continue his line of thought.

"Cybertronian interfacing is a deeply personal and profound act, encompassing both physical and emotional connection," Rung explained, his voice gentle yet filled with wisdom. "It serves as a means of not only pleasure but also forging intimate bonds and strengthening relationships. I was more curious if humans have a similar concept." He states while pressing his glasses back up his face.

“Well humans, we call it intercorse, sex, love making, reproduction. Kinda depends on the person but it's a mix of doing it for Fun, pleasure, stress relief, commitment to another or to have kids” they explain to Rung as he listens in rather fascinated.

With that, Rung leaned back slightly, his posture relaxed and open, “ so rather similar to Cybertronians” he mumbles before he looks back at them. 'They crave you' the words echo through his processor making his servo clench onto the arm of his chair, reminding him of the hidden desires that now threaten to consume his thoughts.

"I'm open for you to learn more, take a more hands on approach, just be gentle, don't ruin my clothes'' they respond. It nearly takes Rung off guard again, His optics widened ever so slightly. His spark fluttered with a mixture of anticipation and caution.

"Only if you are certain," Rung replied, his voice steady yet tinged with a touch of warmth. "I assure you, I will be as gentle as can be, and I'll do my best to avoid any mishaps with your clothing." He allowed his servo to rest on their leg, his touch light and cautious. Rung's gaze remained fixed on the human, his optics filled with a mixture of curiosity and wonder. He was acutely aware of the privilege bestowed upon him, the opportunity to learn and explore the depths of human interfacing.

"Before we proceed, I must emphasise the importance of clear communication," Rung continued, his voice soft and earnest. "If at any point you feel uncomfortable or wish to stop, please let me know, or we can adjust accordingly. Your comfort is of utmost importance to me." With those words, Rung's servo shifted slightly, the touch remaining gentle as he removed their shirt. His optics drank in the sight before him, captivated by their skin, the scared marks that run across their skin from the wing mechanism.

Rung's gaze lingered, his optics filled with a mix of guilt as he traces the scars before his digit runs along the ever shifting orb. He awaited their response.

"I'll let you know Rung” they reply, the give a come here motion to him waiting for him to lean down. When he does they lean up and kiss him.

'They are yours to Claim Primus, they wear your wings to present themself for only you' the echoed words linger only for him to hear. Rung Slowly moving, examining and studying their soft form. His servos and digits continued to explore the human's form, his touch gentle yet purposeful. Each reaction, each sound that spilled from their lips, fueled his desire to provide pleasure and to elicit even more of those delightful sounds only for him to hear. Rung's spark pulsed with a mix of anticipation and a growing hunger.

As the human moaned his name, louder and more desperate, Rung felt a shiver of excitement ripple through his frame. It was an affirmation of their desire, "stunning," Rung breathed, his voice laced with a mixture of desire and affection. "Let's move this to a more comfortable place. Rung stood, their body clinging to him as he swiftly moved towards the berth. Rung felt a surge of delight as the human clung to him, their smile reflecting their eagerness for what lay ahead. He savoured the sound of their small squeal

Rung's spark pulsed with anticipation as he led them to the berth he discarded his glasses on the bench as he laid them onto the berth. their bodies pressed intimately against each other. The urging whispers echoed in his audials, Rung gently lowered the human onto the soft surface, their combined heat and desire filling the air around them. His optics drank in the sight before him, a beautiful and willing form laid bare, their pants discarded and their need evident. The moans that escaped their lips fueled his own desire, spurring him to explore further.

"Is this alright?" Rung murmured, his voice husky with desire. With a gentle touch, Rung's digits pressed against their entrance, a wave of pleasure coursing through both of their frames. “Yes, more than alright” The desire in their voice, their plea for more, stirred a primal heat within him, urging him to grant their request. Rung's own arousal was evident.

With each deliberate movement, Rung explored their softness and elicited more moans from their lips. He revelled in their responsiveness, digits pressing deeper and stretching them open, they buck into his hand "Please, Rung," pleads spilling from their lips, their voice laced with a desperate need.

Rung's spark surged with a mix of adoration and desire as he responded to their plea, his touch becoming more focused and deliberate.

Rung continued to explore, to bring them both closer to the precipice of ecstasy. Their shared desire and trust fueled his own arousal, but his focus remained on their pleasure, on guiding them towards a peak of bliss that they both craved.

His little human moans and begs for more. The wing mechanism releases and the metal wings transform, Spread out across the berth from the human's back the wings flutter in delight against their back.. Their legs shake each time Rung's digits thrust back into their soft velvet walls.

'They are ready, claim them, claim them as yours Primus,' Rung's optics widened in surprise and disbelief as the wing mechanism on the human's back released, transforming into metal wings that spread out across the berth. His spark skipped a beat, a mix of awe and realisation surging through him, they looked stunning with his wings, very different from when he last wore them but yet they suited them so well.

His processors whirred, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions and desires swirling within him. Rung knew that his wings were a manifestation of who he was, a symbol of his duty and purpose.

"Divine," Rung murmured, his voice a mixture of reverence and uncertainty. Rung's digits continued their thrusting, his touch seeking to bring the human closer to their peak of pleasure. Their moans and the trembling of their legs fueled his own desire, “that's it, let go overload for me” he whispers against their ear.

"Please, more" they moaned, their voice filled with a mix of need and desire. Rungs' other servo comes up to cradle their face. He slowly pulls his digits away moving so that he could be as close to them as the size difference allowed. Rung's own arousal surged, his spark pulsing with a mix of longing and restraint.

Rung moves with purpose and care, his interface plating releases as he slowly presses up against them. “Are you alright?” he asked again only to receive a nod as they try pulling him closer. He slowly presses into their smaller body, the sudden heat and pleasure that hits has him groaning loudly.

"Rung!" They cry out loudly as run sinks into them, arms shooting up to grip onto him. His servo moves Their legs, shifting to rest around his hips, slowly he starts to move and starts thrusting. Their back arches off the bed, wings fluttering and sprawling out more as moans fall from their lips.

Rung's spark surged with a mixture of desire and adoration as the human cried out his name, their voice filled with a potent combination of pleasure and need, need only for him. The sight of their back arching off the bed, their wings fluttering and sprawling out more, stirred a primal heat within Rung, this was for him, they had come to him.

Rung's thrusts were deliberate and measured, aimed at bringing them both closer to pleasure. With each movement, he elicited a symphony of moans and gasps.

“Your stunning, my stunning divine" Rung calls out, his voice laced with desire and tenderness.

The human's moans echoed in his audials, their pleas for more spurring him on. Rung's own arousal surged, his pace quickening as the intensity mounted. The tighten of their body have surging towards the peak of bliss.

He relished every reaction, every gasp and moan that fell from their lips. Wishing he could have them on repeat, he could melt just from how their eyes water, how they bite their lip as pleasure takes them.

Rung's voice became a low and soothing presence amidst the growing intensity.

"Let go, my dear," he urged again, his voice filled with a mix of desire and tenderness. "I've got you. Please come undone for me"

Together, they succumbed to the overwhelming wave of ecstasy, their bodies trembling with the intensity of their release. Rung held them close, venting heavily. ‘His’ wings enfolding them in a gentle embrace as they rode out the aftershocks of their shared pleasure.

They choke out as Rung lifts them up, resting on his knees as he pulls them up with him. Through hazed eyes it's like Rung's plating is Gold, the wings cling to him and for a brief moment when their orgasm hits, they see him. A glimpse of the bot Rung once was.

Gold and silver plating blue markings down his faceplate. Their hand extends to trace one of the diamonds of glowing blue.

Gently, Rung held them close, his touch and embrace a grounding presence amidst the ethereal moment that had just passed. His optics met theirs, a mixture of warmth and deskre shining within them.

And as they remained in each other's embrace, basking in the afterglow of their shared pleasure, Rung held onto their exhausted form, Their head resting on Rung chassis panting as he rolled them so he's laying down. The wings flutter and twitch but make no move to transform back. fingers tracing lines on his plating, it's the orange now, not the shimmering gold they had seen before.

The question that escaped their lips was soft and filled with curiosity, their voice carrying a sense of wonder. "What... what are you?"

Rung's optics softened as he contemplated their question. "I am Rung," he replied, his tone gentle yet resolute. "A psychiatrist aboard the Lost Light, here to help guide and support those who seek solace and understanding."

He paused for a moment, allowing the weight of their question to settle in. The significance of their vision and perception was not lost on him. It spoke to the depth of his spark.

"But I am more than that," Rung continued, his voice carrying a hint of wry amusement. "I am a being who has lived and experienced much more than others give me credit for. An old spark, if you will. Older than most"

He shifted slightly, allowing the human to remain comfortable in his embrace as he continued to run his fingers along their frame. The sensation of their touch, combined with their question, stirred a mix of emotions within Rung.

"I am a bot who has walked many paths, witnessed the ebb and flow of countless lives," Rung explained. "I was once known as Primus, keeper of the all-spark, the divine essence that flows through all of cybertron."

"But I am also just Rung," he added, his voice filled with warmth. As Rung spoke, his touch remained gentle and comforting, his fingers intertwining with theirs. The significance of their vision and their perception of him as the bot he once was, Primus, held a profound impact on their shared experience.

"You have seen something special," Rung concluded, his voice filled with gratitude. "A glimpse into the depths of my being, the intertwining of my own spark. and the divine."

"The wings, they are yours aren't they?" A mixture of emotions swirled within Rung, a sense of awe, nostalgia, and a tinge of sadness. He had thought those wings were lost forever, a relic of his distant past. But now, seeing them once again, merged with another being, it was a profound revelation.

"Those wings were once mine, a part of me from a time long ago." He carefully reached out, his fingers tracing along the edges of the wings, feeling the familiar energy pulsating through them. It was a bittersweet reunion, a reminder of who he once was and the journey he had undertaken since then.

"I never imagined I would see them again," Rung continued, his voice tinged with a wistful tone. "To witness them melded with another, it is a testament to the resilience of them, but I'm sorry it was you they joined with” the remorse in his voice is evident

"I'm not," they whisper, “they brought me here so i have to thank them, i just wasn't expecting this. Wasn't expecting the God of Cybertron playing therapist to a ragtag mixed bunch” they reply, it makes him chuckle as he pulls them further up his chassis. “you have me there my dear”.

___________

Have some funnies

Rung and The human sitting together after.

Human: so… your Cybertron's God?

Rung: *sighing* I was once, but I'm not anymore, I gave that part of myself up long ago.

Human: …. I fucked the God of Cybertron who's also my therapist….

Rung: *looking away embarrassed* please it sound bad enough as is

_________

Human: …..

Swerve: what's wrong squishy, you look like you have been through alot need a drink.

Human: I fucked God

Swerve: *raising his optic ridge* pardon?

Human:*having a panic attack* I fucked Primus Swerve, oh God I fucked an alien species God

Swerve: *looking worried* Was he a good Frag?

________

Human: Rung... I don't have to worry about having a cyberhuman God child do I

Rung: *slightly confused* I don't believe that will be something to worry about, why.

Human: ahh earth religion thing is all.

______

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kaeyapilled · 7 months

Note

What are some fics that you think are must reads for kaeya fans?

TEEHEE okay i think i have rec'd most of these before when i was asked for fic recs some time ago but its ok. here are the most kaeya fics ever in my opinion !

clouds in a lake by VelleRue

“Pot of butter,” Kaeya mumbles beneath his breath, eyes roving over the words. Alone, the words wouldn’t be very special. The shapes and sounds don’t scare him as much anymore, not like they did when he was new and wore shoes with torn soles and only knew how to say, My father told me he was going to buy grape juice.

Together though, they sound like the orange-yellow light of the oil lamp flickering in the corner. They sound like sticky fingers and bread rolls. Like a dinner table of three.

Cake and a pot of butter.

this one is so bittersweet and melancholic and i love all the headcanons in it and the way it's written oughhh it's a great read!! short but really good

stubborn roots by alexithymias

Kaeya’s plan to end his life is interrupted when Rosaria asks him to take care of a plant for a few days.

this one is heavier so definitely pay attention to the tags but, oh my god. this rewired my brain SO violently. i adore the concept and the characterization is really on point. it is so painful in all the good ways i like stories to be painful. i really recommend it!!

I'm gonna miss your love when it's gone by imaginarypasta

A selection of scenes from Kaeya's childhood related to his relationships with his fathers, and all they have led him to be.

im pretty sure ive rec'd this before but this is like, one of my favorite portrayals of kaeya and his bio father ever. its just so good. so delightfully sad. a breath of fresh air from the common headcanon that his father was an evil asshole. the kaeya & crepus bits are also really good and i like the author's hcs about khaenri'ah/the abyss SO much

not bad for a walk on death's doorstep by b_attery

Fear is a knife’s edge. Fear is a killer. Fear is how you know you’re still alive. Kaeya Alberich, not yet Ragnvindr, knew how to fear before he knew how to talk. As the heir to the regency of a dead kingdom, a spy-in-training to be sent to the surface world, as the last hope of Khaenri’ah – there were many things to fear. And later, as the Cavalry Captain of Mondstadt and a traitor no matter what he chose, Kaeya Alberich ex-Ragnvindr knew that as long as he lived, he would be afraid.

i have definitely rec'd this one before. but i just really love it!!! my comment on the bookmark says "literally the best kaeya character study i have ever read" and yeah that still holds up. shaped a lot of my kaeya hcs. i love this author

Hundred-Watt Light by pepperjuice

The first time the thought occurs to Kaeya he is eleven years old. Well, that’s not exactly true. It had been twisting in the back of his head for a long time, already. Formless and unspoken, an ever-present awareness, a whisper. But the first time it rings in his head, put in words, bright and shiny and just behind his eyes—

He is eleven. *** A story about ten years of contingency plans and holding your own hand. (Because how else are you supposed to live with a weight too big to hold all alone?)

OH I MUST HAVE REC'D THIS LIKE THREE TIMES BUT THIS IS REALLY A MUST READ. first of all heed the tags because it touches quite heavy topics! but this entire concept is SO interesting to be explored in kaeya's character and this author does it SO well..... this is one of my favorite fics, like, ever, lmao. absolute kaeya must read To Me

Lamellae by scripturient

A slowish movement in a discordant key, wherein Kaeya has bitten off rather more than he can chew and needs significant help; meanwhile, malady exposes buried memory and dread. A limited plot from a limited point of view which dabbles in themes of pain, trust, angst, conflict, and betrayal. Not quite a character study.

the writing style in this one is SO cool, i love it! non-linear narratives are my thing, i never get tired of it. and the whump in this is so good.. i like whump fanfiction, lol. the combination of characters in this is really fun as well, though everything is told from kaeya's very disoriented point of view. anyway, amazing exploration of his character!! the next work in this series, The thaw that comes in springtime (plus the next next work!), is also really good and i loved it, particularly the ragbros bit lol. another must read!

undertow / oversight by MercuryPoisoning

In which Kaeya gets by with a little help from his friends.

another one i feel ive rec'd before, but i love it. really good characterization!! especially his relationship with diluc!!! really good read. i love this author's stuff a lot lol. (bonus by the same author, and another one i consider a must-read even though it's still in progress and also way heavier than most of the previous recs: sleeping marble lion! i really like the writing style and the concept!!! pay attention to the tags but trust me it's a delightfully gut wrenching one<3)

whew. i think i have a few more i could have added here. i just went through my bookmarks lol i have read a decent amount of kaeya fanfiction. hope these are to your liking!!! fic rec'ing is one of my favorite activities

#was on the verge of linking my ao3 bookmarks but. i use that account since 2018.#the great hamilton incident of 2019......#among other things.#BUT YEAH BEEN TYPING THIS FOR OVER AN HOUR AND ITS WAY PAST MY BEDTIME. ENJOY!#askpilled #fic recs #kaeyaposting #kaeya alberich #kaeya #if tjere are any mistakes on this post i didnt notice it sorry. its nearly 1 in the morning

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drafthorsemath · 7 months

Text

Antidote (TBB Tech x afab Reader)

Tech x AFAB Reader (use of she/her pronouns), but all of the Batch included

Word Count: Five words over 3.3k

Warnings: Sex pollen but not the usual trope (no sex and an alternative is found), suggestive sexual language and situations but nothing acted upon, restraining for safety, some strong language, frank description of biological processes, creative use of a tampon, some feelings of shame but they are addressed, NSFW, younglings begone

A/N: I can’t read sex pollen fics. I tried. It wasn’t my thing, but then I got an idea and @staycalmandhugaclone encouraged me so here we are. This is not a call out or meant to be negative toward any sex pollen fics. This is just a different take.

Also on AO3.

You met the Batch on Pabu and in the months since, found yourself spending more and more time with them. This was especially true of Tech. You found his thirst for knowledge and direct nature easy to understand and get along with. Though, you were doing more than getting along. You weren’t sure how to tell him, but you had fallen for him. His brothers all noticed, but he seemed not to. What you didn’t know was that he simply didn’t know how to bring up his feelings just yet.

The boys had decided to visit a nearby planet and since there didn’t seem to be any danger, no one had any objections to you coming along. You hadn’t been on a ship since you first traveled to Pabu and you loved watching as you flew through hyperspace. Tech landed just outside of a city and you all headed toward the market. Hunter and Echo went in search of supplies while Wrecker, Tech, and Crosshair all helped buy food to bring back to Pabu. You were particularly interested in the local fruits and vegetables that didn’t grow on the island you called home.

“I think this is enough,” you said, putting down the last crate next to the pile.

“Is it,” Wrecker asked. “I could eat all this in a couple days.”

“Yes, but we’re just getting what we can,” Crosshair responded. He didn’t want to make more than one trip back to the ship.

“Well, we can carry more,” Wrecker retorted. “At least I can.”

Crosshair gave him a half-hearted glare but helped purchase a few more crates. Wrecker easily carried most of the load.

You turned around to look for Tech. He was busy scanning some kind of contraption that caught his eye one booth over.

“Ready to go, Tech?”

“In just a moment,” he replied.

Wrecker and Crosshair walked ahead, catching up with Hunter and Echo who were waiting near the edge of town with some ship parts. You knew a moment for Tech could mean anything from a few seconds to much longer than that but wanted to stay with him.

He put the item down and walked with you. “The wiring on this new style datapad results in faster computations. I want to see if I can rewire my own and achieve similar results.”

“That didn’t look like any datapad I’ve ever seen,” you replied.

“Ah, the outside is only meant to grab your attention. It is a new model. The inside is what interests me.”

You smiled at that. Tech offered to carry the crate you still had, and you kindly accepted.

Once back at the ship, Wrecker took the crate from Tech. It was decided you all would spend the night on the ship and head back the next day. Tech cleared his bunk so you would have a place to sleep, insisting he could sleep in a chair. While you felt it was incredibly nice of him, you also couldn’t help but wonder what it might be like to share a bunk with him. The thought left your mind as he asked if you wanted to come with him to document some of the local flora. After dinner, the others stayed around the campfire while you and Tech walked over a few hills and to the edge of a forest. He excitedly took pictures and samples, telling you about each plant and its properties.

“This one has several medicinal uses,” he said, handing you a pink flower. You smiled at it and then back at Tech. You gathered several and put them in their own storage bag for transport. Multiple species of flowers were packed before you looked a little further into the woods.

“Tech! Come see!”

He walked over and immediately noticed the large teal blooms that opened as you walked by.

“Fascinating,” he said. He took a picture and noticed that as he got closer to you, the flowers seemed to open even further. He scanned them, looking for any known properties. His face dropped as soon as the results showed up.

“We need to go, mesh’la!”

“What? Why?” You sneezed.

“It may be too late.” He took your hand and briskly walked you out of the woods. Your face suddenly felt hot and your throat burned.

“Tech, I don’t feel well.”

“We must get back to the ship,” he said nearly panicking. “I believe those flowers create an aphrodisiac that specifically affects females of several species.”

No sooner had he said that, and your limbs felt like jelly and you fell against him. Something wasn’t right. You could swear you felt all your blood rushing to your groin and let out a moan. You tried to run, but felt a great weight on your ankles. Tech lifted you like you weighed nothing and ran toward the Marauder. Hunter stood as he saw his brother carrying your body. Preparing for the worst, the boys all stood up asking what was wrong and following Tech on to the ship.

“A large flower opened, spreading pollen,” Tech stated. “I believe it is an aphrodisiac and it has already started to work.”

He sat you down, scanned you, and confirmed your symptoms. The others stood behind him, looking rather helpless. He sighed and gave you a rundown of what to expect. Very brief fever followed by extremely high libido and high energy until satisfied.

Crosshair looked from you to Tech and asked, “Isn’t there a way she can take care of this on her own? You know? Manually?”

“Negative,” replied Tech. “Based on the information available, orgasm does not help in mitigating the symptoms. It appears this particular pollen only effects females and it does not wear off until either sexual intercourse with a male is completed or her hormones shift with her next menstrual cycle.”

“Next period?!” You really started panicking. “I can’t feel that way for that long!” You wanted to cry and yet you could feel that you had to fight to remain yourself even now. You knew it would only get worse. “Look I… Tech I…” You searched for words, feeling overwhelmed. This was not how you wanted to have this conversation, but it seemed like you had better get it over with. “Tech, I have feelings for you. I really like you, but I don’t want to have sex with you or anyone right now, for that matter and I’m afraid of what I might say or do in the next however long.”

Tech quickly processed the information and couldn’t help but smile. “I believe the feeling is mutual,” he said, still kneeling in front of you. “I promise no one will do anything you would not want done in your healthy state of mind. You have my word.”

“That’s great,” chimed Echo, “And I’m really glad for you two, but how are we going to fix this without waiting?”

“I have an idea,” Tech replied.

No sooner had he said that and the fever hit. You felt like you were on fire and cold as ice at the same time. Wrecker stepped toward you to hold your hand. “It’s gonna be okay,” he said. “If anyone can solve this, it’s Tech.”

You tried to nod. Your whole body shook with fever, but within a few minutes the fever was gone. You knew that you weren’t yourself, but there was no way to stop it. You looked at all five men greedily and started to take your shirt off.

“I want Tech first,” you said with a smirk.

“Now now,” Wrecker said, still next to you and taking your hand away from your shirt. “None of that.”

You tried to stand up and looked at each member of the squad. You giggled to yourself that you just thought about the word “member.” They would do nicely, but you would give anything for Tech to throw you onto his bunk and fuck you through the bottom of the ship. You walked closer to him and he adjusted his googles.

“I know this is not you,” he said.

It quickly became clear that you were going to be quite a handful. Tech did research as fast as possible, finding flowers that reacted similarly. Wrecker held you in his lap with his arms wrapped around you after you tried to jump on Hunter as he walked past to assist Tech. He was also trying to keep you from acting out your latest threat of walking up to Tech and sitting in his lap naked. You made several comments about each of the men, but would not stop talking about how much you wanted Tech.

“We know,” Crosshair said, sitting next to Wrecker.

You turned your head toward Crosshair and smiled like an idiot. “Jealous,” you asked him.

“I didn’t say that,” he replied in annoyance.

“It’s okay if you are,” you countered in a sing-song voice.

Your body then decided that since you were sitting on a man’s lap, you might as well start thrusting your hips.

“Nope,” Wrecker said, lifting you off his lap. He was strong, but you were giving him a run for his money with how much you were squirming.

“We’ll sit with her awhile,” Hunter offered, dragging Echo with him. “Crosshair too.”

“What? Why me?”

“Because you’ve only sat next to Wrecker. I think we’ll all have to take some limbs or something.” Wrecker sat you down on the bunk and Hunter held you back before you could lunge at Tech. You nearly yoinked him halfway across the Marauder. Hunter managed to sit you back down with Echo holding one arm, Hunter the other, and Crosshair sitting on the floor hugging your legs.

“This is ridiculous,” you giggled. “Just let me fuck your brother. Just once.”

Hunter sighed. He knew you were going to be upset later. Tech had already discovered that there is no lapse in memory for this particular drug, so you would remember every moment of this. He hoped you would find solace in the fact that they all knew this wasn’t really you.

They were all getting tired and while Wrecker wanted to help Tech, he knew there was little he could do, so he tried sleeping until it was his turn to hold you again. Tech worked furiously through the night. He grimaced when you hit the next stage and complained you felt throbbing. You had gone from flirty to begging for someone to put your out of your misery “with as much cock as possible.” When that didn’t work you cried. He knew it must be painful by this point. He couldn’t stand to hear you cry. Your body was simply reacting to a drug. He felt guilty for not knowing this plant was in the vicinity, but it had never been documented on this side of the planet before. How could he have known?

In the middle of the night, Wrecker woke to stay with you while Hunter, Echo, and Crosshair tried to get some sleep. You made a lot of noise, but they tried. Wrecker had to admit that he didn’t do any more than doze. They were all worried for you, but being in war and under stress, they had learned to sleep when they can and then get up and do their part when it was time. They got what sleep they could.

You wailed when Wrecker held you, trying to scramble away to get to one of the men. He just kept apologizing and telling you he was keeping you safe. You managed to turn in his lap and wrap your legs around his waist.

He sighed. “I know you don’t want that. Not really.” You started crying again and all you could seem to feel was your pulse between your legs and a chemical drive that would not go away.

At the front of the ship, Tech started to make some progress. He smiled to himself when he found a research article on this species of plant. He needed one of the pink flowers you’d collected earlier along with two drugs from the med kit.

Hunter hadn’t done much more than close his eyes, but he sensed the med kit being opened and went to try to help his brother.

“Will you restart the campfire,” Tech asked.

“Sure. What progress have you made?”

“We are not able to create or obtain the hormones needed to trigger her menstrual cycle and end this using that method. However, it is theorized that the reason sexual intercourse causes the pollen to cease its effect is because of the presence of semen in the vagina. Specifically, one protein found in seminal fluid. Now, obviously that is not an option for us, but it appears a similar form of this protein can be synthesized using the pollen of some flowers we collected. While not ideal, there are some items in the med kit that can help this chemical process.”

“Great, but how do we get it in her,” Hunter asked.

“We don’t,” answered Crosshair, now standing behind them. “Put whatever you make on a tampon and ask her to do it herself.”

“Would that work,” Echo asked, joining them.

“I believe it is the least invasive option,” Tech replied.

They all nodded. Hunter went outside to start the campfire. Tech sterilized some equipment and joined him. It seemed simple enough. He only needed part of the flower and then the heated wound disinfectant along with bacta gel would cause the protein to be isolated. Hunter dug a tampon out of the emergency supplies.

Echo and Crosshair helped Wrecker who held your legs, while the other two sat on either side of you. You were tired, but still acting ravenous. Your method had gone even further in the direction of complaining about how you were hurting, and you just wanted all this to be over.

“It doesn’t have to be Tech,” you declared. “I’ll take any of you. Please!” You then melted in Echo’s arm and looked at him with stars in your eyes. “Changed your mind yet? Any of you?”

He simply shook his head, trying to show he cared, and held on so you couldn’t pounce on anyone. You turned to Crosshair on your other side. He held your arm and tried to help keep you still as best he could. You quickly moved to try to bite his neck and he pulled away. “No thank you,” he said. “I’m saving that for someone special.”

You were trying so hard to fight the drug coursing through your system, but it was a losing battle. After what felt like ages, Tech seemed satisfied with the concoction. There wasn’t much of it, but once it was cool enough he dipped the end of the tampon in the gel and walked back onto the ship. The boys let go enough for you to walk toward him. Your flirty symptoms appeared again, and you wanted Tech so badly. You looked up and down his body with no shame. He really took your breath away.

Tech found your glances made him nervous, but simply cleared his throat. Just as he was about to explain why he was holding a tampon, you started sniffing the air.

“That smell,” you said.

The men all looked at each other. “Can you smell it,” Hunter asked. “The protein?”

“Whatever it is, I want to sit on it,” you replied with a grin. You homed in on the tampon.

Tech cleared his throat again and explained, “I have created what we hope will reverse the effect of the drug, but you need to insert this yourself.”

Crosshair and Echo were still each holding your arms, but not too tightly. You seemed to calm and they let go. You took the tampon and went to take your pants off, but everyone stopped you. Tech opened the refresher door and you walked in. He closed it and everyone sighed.

“I hope this works,” said Echo. “All I smell is floral bacta gel.”

In the ‘fresher you regarded the tampon with a little suspicion, but your body seemed to be on autopilot. You placed the tampon and immediately the ache started going away. You took slower breaths. You washed your hands and realized your nerves had been on fire for hours. You looked at yourself in the mirror and felt the heat in your face start to drain. Instead, you realized all that you had said and done, or tried to do. All kinds of emotions flooded your system. You were sure that Hunter could sense the change in you from the other side of the door, so you made no effort to report what was going on. You weren’t sure you wanted to see or talk to any of them yet. You were covered in sweat from all your activity and wanted a shower. You stripped off your clothes and briefly stood under the water. Just enough to clear away the feeling on your skin. When you got out, you noticed someone had left you the spare clothes you’d brought, and you slowly put them on. After a few more minutes of staring blankly into the mirror and letting the antidote work, you finally reappeared.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “I didn’t mean all that.”

“We know,” Wrecker said, pulling you into a hug.

“Glad you feel better,” Hunter said.

“Been thinking we might all get some shut eye before we leave,” Echo suggested. Crosshair nodded with a little smile on his face. For the first time all night, he popped a toothpick in his mouth.

You nodded, thanking them for helping you.

“Especially you, Tech.”

He wasn’t sure what to do. Should he hug you? Hold you? Keep his distance?

“Here,” he said. “If you find you need more to counter the drug, I will put this in a safe place.” He showed you a container with the small puddle of gel he had made using the flowers. You smiled at him.

“How did you figure it out?”

He walked you to the cockpit after closing up the ship as the sun rose. He sat you down, noticing how physically weak you looked. Sitting across from you, he told you about his research and how he found a way to mimic the protein structure that seemed to shut down the drug. You smiled. Of course Tech would figure it out.

“I’m sorry again,” you said.

“Cyar’ika, you have nothing to be sorry for,” he said, reaching for your hand. He gave it a soft squeeze and smiled at you. “None of this was your fault.”

You returned the smile and sat back, looking like you might fall asleep.

“Let me help you to bed,” he offered. You took his arm, needing it to steady yourself. Your legs felt like jelly for a whole different reason this time.

You got into bed. In his bunk. The others were already sleeping. Tech sat on the end of the bed, but looked conflicted. When he originally offered to sleep in the pilot’s seat, he didn’t know all of this would happen.

“Tech? Can you stay? Is that okay?”

He nodded, but suddenly seemed a bit nervous. He had never shared a bed with anyone like this. What he said earlier was true. He had feelings for you and knew you had feelings for him. He wanted you to feel safe, so if you wanted him close, he felt it would be alright now, although he wasn’t sure what he was doing as he laid down.

“How would you like me to, uh…”

“Like this,” you replied, taking his hand and laying it across your middle. Not too close or tight, but just there. “But however feels right. I trust you.”

He softly smiled and relaxed. “Goodnight mesh’la.”

#tbb tech x reader #tbb tech x fem reader #tbb tech x afab reader #tbb fanfiction #the bad batch #tbb tech #tbb tech fanfiction #can you believe I'm out here posting on main #sex pollen #without the sex #reverse sex pollen #i don't know what else to call this #reader insert #period #menstruation

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