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mediumgayitalian · 2 months

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———

Twenty minutes later, Solace hurries out of his cabin in cowboy boots.

And jeans.

Nico gapes at him.

“Go go go go go, questions later,” Will hisses, herding him behind the Apollo cabin. “We are on a time limit, we gotta —”

“You’re wearing close-toed shoes.”

“Yes, yes, sometimes I wear the clothes that I own. Wild. Let’s go.” Will tugs, uselessly, on his arm, but Nico’s half-certain his jaw has taken root in the ground, cementing him in place, because what the actual shit.

“Solace, you wore flip-flops to the snow-smothered bus stop in January. I thought you had, like, a condition!”

“I do have a condition. It’s called You Are Not Hurrying, Death Breath, let’s go —”

This time when he pulls, Nico stumbles after him, ducking under windowsills and inching around flower gardens. Every time someone so much as looks in their direction, Will plants both hands on his chest and shoves them into a corner somewhere, craning his neck to watch until they move on. Every time he does, another piece of Nico’s soul breaks away from his body and descends into hell. There is an actual trail of bones and tilled earth and dead grass behind him. Will doesn’t need to worry about being stealthy — the death aura of Nico’s dignity is large enough to scare off anything within a four mile radius.

“In here!”

Undeterred by the death aura, for some reason, Will seizes his bicep and shoves him in a crack between the Hypnos and Dionysus cabins. He slips in a millisecond later, crowding him against the warm bricks, forearm pressed awkwardly next to Nico’s head.

“Hnggh,” Nico gasps, mournfully wishing his last sliver of self-respect goodbye. Rest in fucking peace. “Do you have to be so — close, Will, gods —”

“Shhh!”

“If you shush me again I am going to rip your throat out —”

“Go, go, go!”

Yanked forward again, Nico doesn’t have the time to finish his threat. This time, at least, they sprint the final stretch to the shed without any more hiding and shoving.

Thank all the fucking gods. One more second of Will’s stupid torso — since fucking when does he wear polo shirts, huh, what the shit fuck is up with that — pressed against his and Nico’s bronchitis was going to come back. And this time he’s going to succumb to it.

“Okay,” Will says. He stands in front of a tarp-covered lump, gripping one side and jutting his chin out at the other. “On three, we tear this off and start pushing. We need past Thalia’s tree in under thirty seconds. Got it?”

“No,” Nico says stubbornly, “you still haven’t explained what the rush is —”

“One two three go!”

Will, unfortunately, has been tricking ADHD teenagers into doing things they don’t want to do for years, so Nico’s ripping off the tarp and shoving the chariot out of its stall faster than he can register what he’s doing. He practically sprints to keep up with Will, chariot wheels creaking happily as they rush over stones and sticks and forgotten weapons.

“We’re leaving now, Chiron! Bye!” Will hollers, moving too fast to give him a second to respond. Luckily, Chiron is similarly busy, galloping after a speeding Harley without more than a backwards wave and a sharp don’t die, please!

“That dynamite I gave Harley’ll only keep everyone distracted another thirty seconds,” Will mutters, ignoring Nico’s alarmed the fucking what you gave Harley, “so we need to move, let’s go.”

“Will — slow down a half fucking second, Christ, not everyone is seventy percent leg — we don’t even have pegasi!”

“Will you keep it down.” Will looks back and forth, eyes wide, like he’s worried someone is going to pop up with a pack of the winged animals. “Just — stop asking questions! We’re almost home free!”

“You’ve gone insane. It’s finally, actually happened, after all these years, who woulda thought, fully bonkers at age sixteen —”

“Oh, shut up.”

Muttering his complaints, Nico helps him push the infernal chariot down Half-Blood Hill. Among his grievances, he makes it abundantly clear that 1) this is stupid, 2) he did not agree to physical labour, 3) he would not have agreed to come if he had known about the physical labour, and 4) this is stupid.

“Just a few more yards, then we can —”

“Okay, no, that’s it.” Nico lets go of the chariot, letting the wheel dig into the soft ground and send the whole thing halting. He meets Will’s pout head-on; arms crossed, jaw set, foot tapping, refusing to give into those big blue eyes.

“C’mon, Neeks.” A faint explosion sounds off in the distance. Will’s eyes get more pleading, more hopeful. “We won’t have much time after the diversion wears off…”

“You have three seconds before I turn the hell around, Solace.”

“Please?”

“One.”

He pushes uselessly at the chariot. It spins a sad little circle without someone pushing the other side. “Neeks!”

“Two.”

“Alright, fine! Help me push again and I’ll explain on the way down.”

“Much easier when you just do as I say,” Nico grumbles, starting to push the stupid (horseless and therefore useless) chariot again. “Isn’t it?”

Will, predictably, rolls his eyes, although he can’t quite help the smile that pulls at his lips. Nico tells the butterflies that go buck fucking wild in his stomach to go to hell. This does nothing.

“How much do you know about the chariot?” Will asks eventually, after a couple minutes of shoving the stupid thing past a deep trench in the soil, leftover from the war. (Nico is going to set the fucking thing on fire. It’s a flying chariot — shouldn’t it be lightweight? Why is he suffering?) They’re nearly three quarters down the hill, and it takes everything Nico has not to risk it all and shadow travel the last couple dozen feet. Yeah, it might kill him, but then his problem would immediately go away. Tempting does not begin to cover it.

“Uh, big source of drama, right? Apollo and Ares worked together to seize it, argued over who got to keep it?”

He cuts a careful glance over to Will, well aware it’s a sensitive topic. He knows the question isn’t a trap — Will would never do that to him — but it’s probably best to tread lightly. As far as he’s concerned, this is a sore point that’ll take more than a couple years to heal.

Luckily, there’s no tension to Will’s face. “Mhm. I wasn’t there for much of the planning, ‘cause I was busy in the infirmary and also, like, twelve, but it took a lot of time on both sides. When Michael and everyone seized it, though, it glowed gold.”

“…Ah.”

Will snorts at his awkwardness, nudging his shoulder. “Yeah. Sure made it hard for the Ares cabin to claim, as dicey as it may be. Here, help me park it on the side of the road.”

There’s a thatch of weeds and undergrowth separating the road from the base of the hill, so dragging the chariot over is a struggle and a half. Nico can’t help but think that this task would be very easy if the chariot was harnessed to a couple pegasi and flying over the fucking thatch, as it is meant to do. When he voices this very valid thought, Will does not respond.

He does walk into a thistle, though, so Nico feels considerably better about the whole ordeal.

“The thing about the blessing —” Will grunts, yanking the chariot onto the gravel shoulder with one final tug — “is that it’s not that big of a deal. My dad blesses shit all the time. Our cabin is blessed. The infirmary is blessed. Hell, half my scalpels are blessed, and I throw those things out all the time ‘cause they’re dangerous when they get dull. Just because my dad blessed it doesn’t mean we actually have to keep it.”

“Okay…” Nico says slowly, “then why was it such a big deal?”

“The blessing on its own wasn’t.” Will’s voice gets fainter as he lowers himself onto the pavement, dragging himself under the belly of the chariot. Nico is confused for a full three seconds before a particularly rough patch of asphalt snags Will’s shirt and drags, and wow, are those jeans low rise. His throat is suddenly very dry. “Blessing a chariot on the other hand…”

Will makes a dorky little noise of success, crawling back from under the chariot. When he resurfaces, he’s grinning, carved piece of wood the same material as the chariot clenched in his hand. There’s soot smeared across his left cheek, his curls have tangled themselves into more of a mess than usual, and there are three separate scuff marks on his nice jeans.

Nico ducks his head, hiding a smile. What a dorky loser. Even dressed up as he is (boy, has Nico fallen low, if he’s calling jeans and cowboy boots dressed up), he still manages to look like…Will.

A really, really hot version of Will, but. Whatever. Details.

“The hell is that?”

“This,” Will says grandly, feeling around the wall of the chariot until he finds a specific spot, “is the reason my brother gave a fuck about a dumbass chariot.” He sticks the edge of the wooden tool in a tiny groove, wedging it open to reveal a hidden panel and a small, golden button. Nico meets Will’s grin with raised eyebrows, impressed.

“What do you know about Michael?”

“Uh, not too much.”

“You think he, in any reality, would have had that much interest in a hunk of wood?”

Nico had scarcely met him more than a couple times, but Michael Yew made an impression, that was for sure. For someone who was shorter than Nico when he was ten years old, he sure took up a lot of space. In the few times Nico remembers seeing him, he’d been concerned with his bow, his camera, or showing any given person who so much as blinked at him wrong just how quickly he could turn their ass concave. If Nico is correct, actually, the one time he and a pegasus had been in the same vicinity, they’d hissed at each other. Nico didn’t even know pegasi could hiss.

He tries to find a delicate way to say this.

“He seemed more interested in other endeavours,” he says politely.

Will laughs loudly. “He would rather shove an arrow in his eye than race a chariot!” His bright smile is impossible not to match, and Nico is relieved to find him totally comfortable, relaxed; hell, even excited. Usually, any talk of his siblings, even fond, makes him quiet. He’s glad for this change, however unusual. “Man, I loved my brother more than anything, but he was the most ornery motherfucker I’ve ever met in my life. He taught me every swear in every language by the time I was nine, just because he knew it would drive Lee batty. He didn’t care about some spoil of war.”

He smirks, wide and devilish, and Nico’s knees go weak. Dimples like that should be illegal.

“He was smart, though. And he figured, if dad’s blessing made this chariot anything like his own…”

He reaches out and presses the golden button with his thumb, letting go and standing back once he registers a faint click. After a couple seconds, the chariot begins to glow, soft at first, then brighter, then Nico has to squeeze his eyes shut to avoid the stinging burn, and then when he opens them, it —

He gapes. Will grins.

Where the chariot used to be, is now a shiny, brand-new, black and yellow motorbike, two helmets gleaming on the sparkling leather seat.

“…Then it might be a little more than some lousy chariot.”

Without waiting for Nico to pick his jaw off the floor, Will rushes forward. He tosses one of the helmets to Nico — which he barely manages to catch, still working on processing what the fuck just happened — and tucks the other under his arm. Nico happens to notice how his biceps flex with the action, and then vows to have his father bankrupt the entire polo shirt industry, because he can never be caught lacking like this by any mortal soul. It’s humiliating.

There’s a click as Will unlatches the seat, lifting it up to access the compartment under it. He pulls out a bundle mass of black fabric, and with a flick of his shoulders reveals it to be a fucking leather jacket and oh, gods, Nico takes back the polo shirt complaints, he can live with the polo shirt. This is too much. This is —

“Any time you’re done ogling at me, you can climb on,” Will calls out. He doesn’t even have the good grace to look in Nico’s direction, instead sliding on the seat facing resolutely forward, amused smirk on his face. And because he wants Nico to die, actually, he straightens his jacket, making sure it fits his shoulders right (by the gods does it ever) brushes his hair backwards (there is no genuine reason for someone’s hair to actually shine in the sunlight) and slides his helmet on. When he finally does look back in Nico’s direction, through his raised visor, the combined sight of his sparkling blue eyes and the cut of his face under the angular helmet actually gives him tachycardia.

“I hate you,” Nico croaks. “Not joking.”

Will throws his head back and laughs, baring his long, tanned throat. Nico follows the bob of his adam’s apple like Tantalus does the forbidden fruit. It’s horrible, and what’s worse is that Will is visibly preening like the fuckin’ peacock he is. Someone should remind him he’s basically a dressed up turkey. Or something. Nico’s brain is operating at twenty percent capacity, his ability to metaphor properly is a secondary concern.

“Just get over here, you goober. We’re on a time limit, remember?”

Shoving his helmet on to hide his flaming face, Nico does, sliding on with a healthy four inches of space between them.

“Mm, not gonna work, ParaNorman. This thing’s enchanted, we’ll be going well over a hundred. Hold on properly.”

Praying to seven different gods for strength, at once, Nico scooches the agonizing few inches closer.

“Hands around waist, Death Boy.”

“I’m fucking — I’m getting there, you asshole, gimme a goddamn second.”

“Do you need help?”

“I need you to shut the fuck up so I can focus.”

Maybe it’s the healer in him, or maybe there actually is a god looking out for Nico and they decide to have mercy. Maybe it’s a third option. Either way, Will reaches back and wraps his callused hands around Nico’s wrist, tugging them gently forward and resting them on the narrow curve of his hips. Nico holds them there, along with his breath, until some of the panicky tension starts to loosen in his chest, and he relaxes forward, resting his chest against Will’s back.

“There,” he says quietly, humming with approval when Nico’s arms link properly around his waist. He squeezes his clasped wrists once — a silent you good? — and waits for Nico’s minute nod, face buried in the back of Will’s neck, before starting up the engine, revving it twice before leaning forward, body flush to the bike. Nico can practically feel his grin, it’s so clear in his mind’s eye, in the delight thrumming through Will’s entire body, that he can’t help his own smile, too, can’t help but feel the thrum of the machine, the sharp smell in the air. He tightens his hold and Will lets out a loud, whooping laugh.

“Let’s ride, baby!”

With a push off the ground and a twist of a thrusters, they’re off, leaving behind only the echo of the roaring engine and the joyful, startled sound of Nico’s shriek.

———

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harmonictechnicality · 1 year

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Eddie's Memory Log: Day 59

part 1 here | part 2 here | part 3 here | part 4 here | part 6 here (ao3 link here)

Steve spends an obnoxious amount of time in front of the mirror. This isn’t breaking news. If he were in that fairytale with the evil witch and her Mirror Disciple, the mirror would be so sick of Steve’s vanity by now.

The surprising part is that Steve has been in front of the mirror since five in the morning. He couldn’t sleep, his mind is one channel full of reruns. And unfortunately, people don’t have a fucking remote control to turn off their brains, so he’s just stuck reliving Saturday morning over and over again.

Here he is. Just staring blankly at his reflection. Yawning. The reflection yawns back. Flipping his hair to one side, thinking about Eddie. Flipping his hair to the other side, thinking about Eddie. Spraying the flyaways down, thinking about Eddie. Steve has to splash his face with water so much that he’s going to show up to the hospital looking like a shriveled-up sponge.

He’s nearly satisfied with how it’s shaping up when Steve is smacked with a thought. A rewind in his rerun. A loop.

It’s Eddie’s voice, that scratchy morning one that made Steve’s toes curl up in his sneakers. All he can hear now is that voice repeating the same syrupy sentence:

‘Feels like cashmere now…’

Steve listens to the phrase till his knees start to wobble. He reaches up into his hair, just to experience what Eddie experienced that day. Instead, all Steve feels is hardened strands. All of it holding a sticky residue. Not soft at all. And definitely not cashmere.

Before the loop can start over for the umpteenth time, Steve strips off his meticulously planned outfit and hops into the shower. The water bursts out, directly onto Steve’s nearly satisfactory styling job. It breaks his pride more than his heart, washing all his hard work away so easily.

Steve never really goes out in public with unstyled hair anymore. Not after the time in eighth grade when Hailey Barnes got gum stuck in his hair mid-make out. Steve had to cut it the shortest it had ever been in his whole life. Led to a full blown Samson storyline for the rest of the school year. He still dated, sure - but barely any second dates.

Steve shakes off his biblical trauma and blow-dries for a good fifteen minutes. Look, if he can’t style it, he can at least dry it out. He’s not a complete heathen for christ’s sake.

It’s weird, staring back at an unstyled Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington. But this might earn him more scalp massages. Potential kisses. Potential memories. So if Eddie wants cashmere, Steve’s gonna fucking give it to him.

He’s probably gonna be late for visiting hours, but he’s hopeful that Eddie will forgive him once he gets his vein-busted hands into Steve’s hair. Driving over the speed limit is not exactly necessary and certainly not legal, but fuck it all.

Fuck it all with the windows down.

It’s a gross habit, but Steve starts chewing on his nail as soon as he reaches the door to Eddie’s room. He’s gotta kick these nerves in the ass, pull his charisma out with a rope or some shit.

There’s no reason to be nervous, not after Eddie verified that Steve was reading the situation correctly. That should be confirmation enough to make Steve stop his nasty nail-biting and boost his enthusiasm to max volume.

So that’s exactly what he does. Steve swings the door open, pointing directly towards Eddie upon arrival. “You have some serious explaining to do, Munson.”

“Quite the entrance you got there.” Okay. Less enthusiasm than Steve, for sure. Not even half-volume enthusiasm.

“I mean, just leaving me hanging like that?” Steve lightly smacks Eddie’s shoulder. “You really are the worst eye candy employer of all time.”

Eddie’s eyes narrow as he nods along. “Sure…”

The enthusiasm is dialing down to fucking mute. At this rate, Steve will have to skip the sly banter, go straight for the obvious. His dignity would be damaged if he weren’t so wired.

“Oh come on!” Steve shoves Eddie’s shoulder a bit harder this time. “You’re not gonna say anything about my hair?” Steve runs his hands through it, movie slow-motion style. Then he shakes it out, flounces the ends. Anything for some sign of life at the moment.

“It’s… different.”

No shit, it’s different. It’s certifiable fluff right now. Sort of like angel food cake without the icing.

Steve has to shift gears yet again. Maybe the straightforward path is too basic for Eddie’s liking. Maybe he prefers the smooth lines. Steve can do smooth. Smooth is his fucking specialty.

“Free cashmere doesn’t come around like this everyday.” Steve sits next to Eddie on the bed, messing around with his heart monitor cord. “So touch it all you want, Eds.”

“What’s gotten into you?” Eddie’s face goes siren red. He scoots away from where Steve is sitting and laughs somewhat nervously. “Was it drugs? Did you finally raid my lunchbox?”

“No. No drugs. Just…” Happy to see you. A little wounded that you’re not as happy to see me. But still… happiness overall. “A rare good mood, I guess.”

“I’ll say.” Eddie scoffs. "You are mighty chipper today.”

“Well, yeah.” Steve gets off the bed. He’s clearly making Eddie uncomfortable and he doesn’t know why. His energy is the same as it was Saturday morning. A little heightened, sure, but Eddie thrives off intense shit. Well, he usually does. “I mean, considering what almost happened Saturday.”

Eddie holds up both hands. “Wait. Time out. Saturday?”

“Yeah.”

“This Saturday?”

“Yeah.”

“You were here on the weekend?”

No. No, this can’t be happening. This is Eddie scribbling Steve-related notes on his arm all over again. The trap door in Steve’s stomach drops, all of his insides feel like they’re plunging down to his feet. The blush that had settled in Steve’s face, is now being whipped around, right up to his forehead. He feels sick. He feels a migraine forming. He feels fucking robbed.

“Please. Please tell you didn’t forget.” Steve’s voice is small.

Eddie doesn’t respond immediately, just studies the grim expression on Steve’s whole face. “I need you to be specific with what you’re talking about, Steve.”

“Do you remember Friday?”

Eddie looks up at the ceiling as if his memories are stored somewhere up high. “You came over. We talked about your mixtape. Bubblegum shit. See a dentist. No insurance, yada yada.”

So far, so good.

“We watched the Home Shopping Network for four hours.”

Three, but Steve lets that one slide. Probably felt like four hours.

“The doctors gave me new medicine for… something, I don’t know.”

“That part is important.”

“Yeah well, you try being on more medications than you can count on your hands.” Eddie barks back. “See how many ridiculously long latin names you can remember.”

Look. Steve is a patient person - hasn’t always been that way, but the unexplainable circumstances over the last three years has Miyagi’d the shit out of his patience levels.

Five days a week, Steve sits here. Patiently dealing with whatever unpredictable mood Eddie is going through that day. Five days a week for almost three months. Steve doesn’t wanna sit here and do the math because he knows it’ll be depressing numbers. So many days, hours, minutes, that he spends being the Patient Guy.

But with Eddie snapping while Steve is trying to process how such an amazing moment can simply vanish like a demented magic trick? No. Steve is no longer proficient in the art of Patience.

“You know I didn’t mean that…” Eddie mumbles, fiddles with one of the wires attached to him. Not exactly an apology.

“No please, continue to use me as your emotional punching bag. It’s one of my life’s greatest joys.” Steve leans against the wall, all casual and relaxed. But his words bite just as hard as Eddie’s did. The way he looks and sounds are total contradictions to each other.

Eddie rubs hard over his eyes. “Shit, Steve. I’m being an asshole.”

Fucking christ, that’s still not an apology. “Whatever. Just tell me what you remember after the doctor gave you the medicine.”

Eddie sighs. Looks back up at the ceiling while he talks. “I got really sick…”

“Yeah.”

“You were here.”

“Per usual.”

“But I passed the fuck out once the fever went away.”

“And then…” Steve motions his hand for Eddie to keep going.

“And then?”

Goddamnit. “You don’t remember.”

Eddie stays silent. Searching the whole room now for memories that do not exist. Memories that have expired. Memories that are one-sided.

“You don’t remember any of it.” Steve whispers to himself.

His impatience gets distorted with all of his feelings for Eddie. Everything is barbed-wire sharp, cutting up his throat. He doesn’t want to talk about it anymore, the answers are too unfair. The reality is too bleak. Steve doesn’t deal with his own mental hurdles most days - he can’t add new psychological pitfalls to his life.

Steve is holding his forehead, urging the headache to go away with fingertips and delusion. He opens his eyes momentarily to see Eddie staring back. He looks worried. Powerless.

That makes two of them.

“Steve.” Eddie is almost whispering. “Whatever it is… I’m so sorry that I don’t rem -”

“Don’t do that.” Steve interrupts. “Don’t apologize for having head trauma, Eddie Munson.”

“Alright. I won’t.”

Steve crawls through the barbed wire, gets muddy and messy with the truth. “Look, there’s a lot of other shit you should feel sorry for. Like lashing out at me all the time. And never asking how I’m doing with my… life and shit.”

“There’s a vending machine down the hall that you could fill with all the reasons you should feel sorry. Might as well make a fucking profit off of your remorse.” Steve tacks the dark joke on at the end because he can. Because it’s Eddie.

“But your recovery process is not one of things you should ever feel sorry for. Okay?”

“Yeah.” Eddie gulps. Nods. “Okay.”

Steve is standing at the foot of Eddie’s bed, hands gripped around the plastic railings. His knuckles are the same sterile white as the rest of this god awful room. Steve has become a chameleon to this place that somehow manages to feel haunted by more than just lingering mortality.

“I think I’m gonna head out.” Steve says it without even trying really. The words just stumble out.

Eddie’s mouth opens, forming an ‘oh’ in reply, but no sound comes out with it.

“Yeah this just isn’t… I don’t know.” It’s a lame thing to say but it’s true. Steve has no fucking clue what to do anymore. “I don’t think I can do this today.”

Eddie doesn’t look at him. “Got it.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

Steve takes those few painful steps to the door. His limbs feel heavy. Like guilt and confusion are weighing him down.

No words fit this moment. This departure. So Steve throws a few out there in hopes that it’ll be enough:

“Just… hang in there.”

It’s not enough. Not even close.

“Will do, Harrington.” Eddie still doesn’t look at him.

The door shuts, but Steve thinks he feels it slamming all the way down his spine.

Day 60:

Steve doesn’t go to the hospital today.

It’s Tuesday.

Day 61:

Day 62:

Day 63:

Day 64:

Day 65:

Steve hasn’t really talked to anyone since Monday, not even Robin. She called him once on Wednesday to see if he wanted to grab dinner with her and Vickie, but he politely declined. Didn’t even bother fabricating an excuse. Just stuck with good old-fashioned ‘no.’ Why reinvent the wheel with rejection?

He’s in dirty clothes and watching an Andy Griffith marathon, when the phone rings. He almost ignores it - except he needs to get more onion dip from the fridge anyways, and the phone is on the way there. Might as well pick it up.

“Harrington residence.” His voice drones. “Steve speaking.”

“Shit.”

Shit. “Eddie?”

“Yeah. Hey, man.”

“What’s wrong? Did something happen? Are you okay?” Apparently, Steve cannot switch off the caring portion of his heart.

“Everything is…” Eddie holds out the ‘s’ sound for a while. “I just needed to apologize.”

“Right.”

“And to thank you.”

Steve lowers his eyebrows. “For what?”

“Being here… when you were.” Eddie’s voice sounds dried up. Like he hasn't spoken much in days. “I know you haven’t been back for a few days, and that’s my own damn fault.”

Most of the behavioral stuff is his fault, yeah. But the icing out bullshit that Steve is pulling is cowardly. He’s not doing anything productive with his free time. He’s deadlocked. Stranded in uncertainty.

Eddie continues. “But for all the days you didn’t give up on me… I guess I didn’t know how much I needed that. So thank you.”

“That’s…” Steve is about to say ‘unnecessary,’ but decides against it. Dismissiveness solves nothing. “You’re welcome.”

“Even when I was being Kathy or Hyde or Grendel or whatever else you managed to come up with behind my back.”

Steve didn’t. He thought up a lot of spiteful shit, but he never said any of it out loud. Okay, maybe some it slipped along the way. He’s not perfect.

“I wouldn’t blame you for never coming back to visit me.” Eddie is talking faster now - which is basically normal Eddie speed. “But if you did… I have something I wanna to give you.”

Steve groans. “Not a mixtape, right?”

“Nah, I’ve tortured you enough with my own vocal ridicule.” Eddie snickers, Steve joins him. “It’s nothing much, but yeah. It’s here if you want it.”

“Okay… yeah. Thanks.”

Steve smiles, very briefly. His mind reminds him far too soon that nothing is fixed. Sure, he’s not pissed off at Eddie. The apology was genuine. Beside, it takes way too much brainpower to hold grudges.

But Eddie doesn’t remember what Steve will never forget. That’s still very real.

“Hey, Eddie.” Steve checks again. Just to be certain. “You really don’t remember Saturday?”

There’s a pause. “I really am sorry, Steve.”

Yeah. Sucks just as hard as it did on Monday.

“I know you said not to be sorry for my memory, but I am.”

Well… Eddie remembers their fight.

“Glad you remember that part.” Steve finds the positive. Even if it tastes bitter, it’s positive-ish. “Thanks for calling, Eds.”

“Thanks for not hanging up.”

“Oh, there was deep contemplation about hanging up.”

Eddie lets out a single snort. “Good. At least you’re consistent.”

“I figured there would be lots of bad karma for hanging up on a dude that’s bed-ridden in a hospital.”

“Undoubtedly bad karma. They’d put you in karma jail for such actions.”

“Glad I decided against it then. I’m way too pretty for karma jail.”

“You’re way too pretty for any iteration of jail, Steve Harrington.”

The conversation becomes a stream of easy jokes and harmless insults. Steve prefers it this way, feelings or no feelings. He likes the relaxed discussions that he can have with Eddie. He likes how Eddie will run wild with a topic, so that he can just listen. He likes that Eddie will gladly shut up if Steve wants to interject.

Steve just likes him. Likes Eddie.

They talk until Eddie takes his nighttime meds, promptly falling asleep. Snoring into the phone speaker. Steve stays on the line a little while longer. Waits until he hears the heart monitor beating out a steady rhythm.

He hangs up and heads to bed himself. Forgets all about his onion dip and the Andy Griffith marathon.

Day 66:

It’s six in the morning. The sun is gradually hitting the horizon, but Steve is wide awake regardless. He’s a fairly competitive person, but Steve definitely shouldn’t be competing with things like nature, goddamnit.

He picks up the phone, the same one he used last night to talk to Eddie. Swears that it’s still warm from being pressed to his cheek for hours.

He calls Robin. It’s inconsiderate as hell to call this early, but she’s the only one of his friends that might answer at this hour.

Might being the key word. There’s no answer.

Steve sucks in a deep breath. Decides to be extra annoying and calls again.

“Hello?” Thank god it’s not her dad.

“Morning, Buckley.”

“Bye.”

“Wait!”

Robin swears under her breath a few times. “Why? Why must you insist on having the sleep schedule of a farm animal, Steve?”

“Trust me, it’s not by choice.”

“I don’t trust anyone that calls me before noon.” She yawns the last few words of her sentence. “Something must be wrong with you.”

“Nothing’s wrong with me. Nothing you didn’t already know about anyway.” Steve does want to chat and get his mind off of things, but he also needed to hear his friend’s voice. “Just wanted to check in.”

This is what they do now. They have to. No one else is going to check on them because no one else even knows that they literally threw flames at a demonic entity. So they call or show up whenever they can.

They have to.

“I’m hanging in there.” Which is seemingly better than ‘I’m here.’ That phrase is an emotional grenade. “How about you?”

Steve laughs, then sighs. “Obviously sleep is a fuckshow. But yeah. Hanging in there too.”

They shift to lighter subjects. Movies they’re excited to see. Plans to try the new Italian restaurant on Main Street. All the petty town gossip they can think of.

Robin talks about Vickie too. Apparently, they have the same top four favorite novels. She mentions that three times in the same breath, so that must be a pretty big deal. Steve can hear her smiling through every ordinary detail she shares, which makes him happy. He’s glad his best friend has found someone that makes the ordinary shit seem like an adventure.

It selfishly makes him think of Eddie though. How badly he wants to bring him up after every other sentence. How random words remind him of something stupid Eddie said or did.

He’s doing so well with holding back, until Robin asks. She says his name, and Steve fucking shivers at hearing it. Eddie’s name, right in his ear.

“Haven’t seen him in a week…” Steve tries to toss it in there casually, despite how un-casual it is.

“Does that mean his memories are back?”

“Not exactly…”

Robin hums into the speaker, catching on quickly to Steve’s un-casualness. “Well, the coffee is already brewing. Might as well tell me what the fuck happened.”

He goes over everything in random order - whatever hits his mind first. The argument, the spending the night, the arm scribbles, the almost-kiss, the phone call. Steve sounds just like Robin talking about Vickie. Very little breaths and stupidly smiling over all the good parts.

He doesn’t really elaborate on the fact Eddie is a guy and that he’s attracted to him anyways. There’s so many other complicated factors, that part has seemed secondary since the beginning. And honestly, he’s sort of grateful for that. Steve doesn’t want to overthink this. He just wants to see where this will go.

It’s painfully quiet for a while once he gets through everything, even the weirdly erotic hair-massage bit. He’s starting to think they’ve lost connection when he hears Robin crunch her breakfast. Loudly.

“So…” Steve urges. “What do you think?”

She’s chewing her toast even closer to the phone. “About you being in love with Eddie? It’s weird.”

“I’m not in love with Eddie.”

“I’m sorry - you just told me that his heart monitor beats to the rhythm of a song while he’s sleeping.”

“Patiently.” It's Steve's favorite Journey song.

“Pop the champagne and prepare the gondola, my friend.” Robin exclaims. “Cause that is love.”

“Whatever.” Steve grumbles. Sort of despises how valid her point is. “Can’t believe he doesn’t remember.”

“It’s not like he’s cherry-picking his memories, dingus. This wasn’t on purpose.”

Steve clings to that fact. Robin is hardly ever wrong and he loves that about her. “Can’t believe he mentioned Scoops… that fucker.”

“Oh I can believe it.”

He holds his breath for a few seconds. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Eddie was there loitering samples as much as baby Sinclair.”

“No, he wasn’t.”

“Uh.” She sounds totally annoyed with him. “Yes. He was.”

“I think I’d remember seeing a frizzy-haired hyena at Scoops fucking Ahoy, Robin.”

“You’re so wrong about this, my friend.” Robin is giggling now. Steve never knew a giggle could sound so villainous. “Eddie only came to get samples while you were scooping at the back counter.”

“Okay…” Steve says.

“You know… to enjoy the show.”

“It’s too early for this.” He huffs. “Just spell it out for me, Buckley.”

The villainous giggle returns. Might be more evil this time. “Pretty sure the middle-aged divorcees nicknamed it the Below Deck Viewing Party.”

Steve finally gets it.

Oh fuck. “My ass had a fan club?”

“Afraid so.” Robin says. “And Eddie Munson was one of its most loyal admirers.”

Steve feels like running in circles. Doing burpees or jumping jacks. Maybe he’ll just start clapping over this brand new information that’s illuminating the horniest parts of his mind.

“How have you never told me this?” Steve questions, still sizzling with energy.

“And make your big head even more insufferable?” Robing drones. “Ugh. Gag me.”

That checks out. Steve is going to be so intolerable now, especially when he wears those laundry day khakis that Eddie pretends to hate. Maybe Steve should wear them today, just for the hell of it.

They chat until Robin has to head out to work. Neither of them call much attention to the fact that Steve is crushing on a guy, so Steve assumes his brain was right along.

It’s not a big deal. There’s so much more pressing matters at hand - like the fact that his crush doesn’t remember holding his hand all night long.

That’s way more pressing than crushing on dudes.

Eddie isn’t in his hospital bed.

Eddie isn’t in his room at all.

Those realizations clog Steve’s lungs until he feels them caving in. His mind is flooded with the time that Max wasn’t in her hospital room months ago. The time she coded and nobody fucking knew until they were all standing there in a Max-less room.

Steve slumps against the wall, the weight of his lungs and his premonitions are too heavy for him to stand straight.

He’s about to crouch down, get his blood-flow to restart, when two nurses and Eddie walk through the door. They’re guiding him on either side, although he seems fairly stable on his own.

Steve is so relieved. Almost as relieved as the time Max came back after coding. Almost.

“You’re back.” It’s bordering on a question - the way Eddie says it.

“I got him,” Steve waves off the nurses. He takes Eddie’s left arm and holds it tight. Balancing both of them in entirely separate ways. The nurses thank him and he starts directing Eddie to the side of the bed. “Weird to see you standing again.”

He hasn’t seen Eddie upright since…

Steve clears his throat. “You definitely look…” Hot. “Taller than I remember.”

While that’s vaguely true, it is definitely not at the forefront of Steve’s mind. He's touching Eddie again, not in a bed and not to detach all his hospital machinery. He’s just touching him, keeping him steady with his arms, and it’s so fucking nice.

They take a few more steps and the sleeves on Eddie’s hospital gown slips off his shoulder. Steve cannot look away. There’s a gray-ish bruise right on top, extending down to Eddie’s shoulder blade. It’s been healing for months and it’s still discolored. Steve is fixated on the shadowy hue, how Eddie’s pale skin almost glows underneath it.

If Steve’s hands weren’t busy being helpful right now, he’d touch it. Watch the colors ripple under the pad of his finger.

“Well… glad to refresh your memories then.” Eddie tugs the sleeve back up, covering the patchwork skin that Steve couldn’t stop staring at. “But isn’t that your job? To refresh my impoverished frontal lobe?”

Steve redirects his focus. “Impoverished Frontal Lobe would make a good band name.”

“Shit, you’re so right. Dibs.”

“You already have a band, dumbass.”

“True - but every lead guitarist needs a backup band name. Everyone knows that. Fallouts are a disease to the music industry.”

Eddie remembers he plays guitar. Not accordion.

“You can have Impoverished Frontal Lobe if I can have Hometown Slut.” Steve shrugs to one side.

“Can’t have what’s already yours, Stevie.”

Steve finally releases Eddie’s arm, no reason to still be holding it. No medical reason anyways. He catches himself smiling at the natural return of their banter. Even though Steve left, his attraction to Eddie didn’t budge one goddamn inch.

Picking up the visitation routine is easy. Steve settles into the same well-worn chair, turns on the same daytime tv shows, chews the same minty gum that Sam leaves for him at the check-in desk. It’s all the same. As things should be.

Where Steve is supposed to be.

“It’s good to see you again.” The phrase - Eddie’s words - it all reminds Steve of holding shells up to his ears at the beach. “Sorta got used to you being here.” If Steve listens close enough, there’s an I missed you somewhere inside.

“Same.” There’s an I missed you too inside Steve’s words as well.

“And since your back…” Eddie does a drumroll over his thighs. “I can give you your gift.”

“You didn’t mention on the phone that this was a gift.”

“Thought it was implied.” Eddie bends down, drags a basket out from under his hospital bed. He pushes it over to Steve’s chair. “Here.”

Steve is beaming right away because it’s so tacky and gaudy, all synonyms that relate to Eddie. The basket is painted gold, sort of cracking around the splinters of wood. It’s oversized - much bigger than it needs to be for the items sitting inside of it. The clear plastic around it has a silvery glint and it’s so fucking noisy when he moves it around.

It’s not something Steve would’ve ever picked out to give as a gift. But the whole thing screams Eddie Munson, which makes it perfect.

“Yeah yeah, I know. It’s just one of the baskets from the hospital gift shop.” Eddie gestures broadly around the present, smacking the crinkly plastic a few times. “But I emptied out all of the lousy shit. Even replaced it with all of your vending machine preferences.”

It’s a gentle jab at Steve’s vending machine metaphor from last week. The basket is stacked with Steve’s favorite chips and candy - the ones he still chooses week after week.

Eddie remembers that Steve loves Utz potato chips and Junior Mints.

There’s a few sodas thrown in there too. The bottom layer is littered with the sugar packets that Steve hoards for his cafeteria coffee breaks.

But underneath all the snacks and sugar and sodas, there’s a card. It says ‘Feel Better Soon’ on the front.

“Oh yeah, that came with the basket.” Eddie flicks at the edge of the card.

The greeting card hits Steve harder than it should. Eddie has no memory of all the monstrous fuckery Steve has witnessed. So, he can’t even begin to know how much Steve needed that silly little reminder. That Steve needs to get well soon, feel better, hang in there. All of those corny sayings, Steve needs all of them.

“I did write something in it though.”

Steve’s eyes shift up to Eddie. “You did?”

Eddie nods. “Didn’t know if you’d wanna talk to me again after last week.”

Eddie still remembers Steve storming out on Monday. (It’s the first time Steve wishes Eddie would forget something.)

Steve opens the card, but Eddie leans over to grab it out of his hands.

“Don’t read it here.” Eddie fans himself with the card. His hair wisps around, reminds Steve of a windstorm. “Even the freak is susceptible to the occasional embarrassment, okay?”

Steve gives Eddie a thumbs up and looks back over the items. None of them are expensive or luxurious or anything like. It’s all stuff Eddie could scavenge around for. But all of it is thoughtful. Significant.

“So… how are the memories?” Steve asks.

Eddie fills him in while they munch on their mountain of goodies. Music is still the strongest remedy. He tells Steve that if finishes physical therapy, he’ll be approved to play his guitar. Both of them are hopeful that will help unlock his past even more.

Steve pokes fun that Eddie always skipped gym class. He bets Eddie twenty bucks that he’ll play hookie at least once.

Eddie says ‘make it fourty.’ They shake hands on it.

They catch up and get stomachaches from all of the artificially sweetened crap they just ingested. Or maybe they just feel sick from laughing at all the stupid infomercials on tv. Whatever it is, they’re both sore and smiling by the end of the day.

“Guess I should head out.” Steve can already see the gears turning in Eddie’s head, wondering if he’ll be back. “Cool if I return to my usual schedule?”

Eddie’s chest falls. His shoulders relax. “As long as it’s not out of pity.”

“I don’t pity you, Eds.” Steve says. “The nurses, however…”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Alright, alright. You’ve made your point, dickwad.”

Steve can’t bring himself to hold Eddie’s hand, not really sure why. Things have been mended, but maybe not enough. Maybe it’s all still too fresh.

Instead, Steve rubs the material of Eddie’s blanket. He smooths it out between his fingers, imagining that it’s the material of Eddie’s hospital gown.

Steve’s eyes stay on the fabric in his hands. “If you remember anything after you took that new headache medicine… you’ll tell me, right?”

Eddie knocks his knuckles onto Steve’s hand. Steve lets the fabric go. He looks at Eddie, who is happier now. Warmer.

“Definitely.”

“Good.”

Steve doesn’t wait to read Eddie’s letter. He flips open the card as soon as he gets in his car.

The handwriting is pretty terrible, similar to all of Eddie’s arm scribbles. But Steve must’ve developed an overnight supernatural ability to decode Eddie Munson’s illegible penmanship because he can read every word perfectly:

Steve, The card says ‘Feel Better,’ but that seems insufficient. Just better? Nah. That doesn’t cover all the bases (look see? I threw in a sports term just for you, champ). A trust-fund catalog model that spends the majority of his week with a metalhead who has an affinity for nerd shit? No way. That kind of person deserves so much more than feeling better. You deserve to feel worthwhile. Yours truly, Eddie/Kathy/Hyde/Grendel/HSN Conspiracy Theorist ps. Sorry I’m so bad at simple apologies. Everything has to be torturously difficult with me, which you already know. pps. Well shit. I never even said it properly. I’m sorry.

Steve is overwhelmed by all of it. Even Eddie’s little doodles on the back cover are causing him shortness of breath.

It’s a sloppy skyline of mixtape-skyscrapers. The tallest one is directly in the middle. Sprawled across the bottom is the word ‘Munsonopolis,’and in quotations underneath it says, ‘featuring the Ed-pire State Building.’ There’s an exaggerated amount of arrows pointing at the one in the middle - just in case it wasn’t clear which one is the featured tower.

Not subtle, that one.

Steve is vibrating with energy the whole drive home. Eddie made so many references to past memories in that letter. Some were running jokes, sure. But others? The trust-fund dig? The sports joke? Steve has so many bullet points to add to the binder. So many things to notate. So much fucking progress.

But he doesn’t write down any of it. Instead, he staples the card to the notebook paper labeled ‘Day 66.’ Everything he’s ever needed to know is in that card. That ironically perfect card.

And it the faintest penciling, Steve writes one bullet for himself:

Robin was right. Definitely think I’m falling for him.

Day 67:

“Apology accepted, by the way.” Steve tosses a jello cup onto Eddie’s table. He snagged one at the cafeteria on his way in - just so Eddie doesn’t wrongfully assume he wanted pudding yet again.

Is it cheating to give away the answers? Yeah. But Steve is falling for this guy, so he’d buy an entire fucking factory of gelatin if Eddie requested it.

“So you read the card?” Eddie viciously tears open the jello lid. Sniffs it. Weird.

Eddie remembers writing Steve the letter.

“Read it. Marinated on it. Read it again.” Steve automatically moves the chair close to the bed. Fuck distance. “Maybe I should make deep annotations on my upcoming reread.”

Eddie grumbles. “Is this how it feels when I tease you about jock shit all the time?”

Eddie remembers their banter. Huh.

“Sure does.” And I’m totally obsessed with it.

“Are you willing to change topics?”

Steve peers over to examine Eddie’s mixtape collection. A sideways grin takes over his face. “Wanna tell me why my mixtape is at the top of the pile over there?”

“Uh…” Eddie whips his head over to the tower. “You know what - the apology card mockery wasn’t so bad after all.”

“Oh really?”

“In fact, I enjoyed it.”

Steve teases Eddie for the rest of their visit, completely unforgiving about it. Payback for two months of this.

He’s pretty sure Eddie likes it more than he does.

Day 68:

Eddie is in and out of the room for physical therapy today. Steve is unfazed by the lack of quality time because any time Eddie does return, Steve gets to help him to his bed. Gets to touch Eddie’s arm, his back. Sometimes his shoulder.

It’s becoming Steve’s hospital equivalent to the whole, ‘yawn and stretch’ move from all those movie theater dates.

“You don’t have to do this, Steve.” Eddie says it every time. “I can walk eight feet on my own.”

“Just in case…” which directly translates to, I want to do this.

Steve asks the same question at the end of every visit now:

“Call me if you remember.”

And Eddie always assures him that he will.

Day 69:

They are playing cards when Eddie brings it up. “What if I never remember?”

“Remember what?” Steve discards one of his cards to the pile. Grabs a new one from the deck.

“The thing that makes you all twitchy at the end of every visit.” Eddie does his best twitchy-Steve impression. It’s insulting, at best. “What if it doesn’t come back?”

“It’ll come back.” Steve is so sure of it. Easygoing.

“How do you know?”

“I just do.”

“How original.”

Steve flips his cards down on the table. He reaches down to the binder that’s an extension of his determination these days, flips through the pages. Pages full of breakthroughs. Even on the lousy days, even when Eddie occasionally backtracks. The pages are still full.

“This is how I know.” Steve holds Eddie’s eye contact after shutting the binder. “I see the progress. It’s not linear, not all the time… but I see it.”

Eddie reaches out. Runs his fingers across the binder, back and forth. Steve stops him the third time, places his hand over Eddie’s. There’s a hitch in Eddie’s breathing when he does it, so Steve slides away, doesn’t linger too long. He listens in to the heart monitor’s cadence for insight on the mood they’ve created.

Not the same as last Saturday. Not the tempo Steve is looking for to take initiative. Not yet.

“I win, by the way.” Eddie announces, flipping his cards over. Smiling that bonus type of smile.

“Damn right you do.”

Day 70:

Eddie is singing one of Steve’s mixtape songs, using his thermometer as a microphone. It’s purposely off-key and he’s implemented some exaggerated accent to it.

This isn’t the first time he’s done this demented-karaoke routine. In fact, Steve has had to suffer through Eddie butchering pop classics since Day 26 of these hospital visits.

He always does it to get Steve to crack - lose his temper or threaten to leave. Steve usually humors Eddie with one of these reactions because it’s fun. It’s a lighthearted habit that they formed after hard days. Pain infested days.

But this week has been good. Surprisingly adequate. Steve is back and Eddie hasn’t thrown up, not once. He only complained about the flavorless cafeteria food on Tuesday, instead of every other day. That alone is an immediate call for celebration.

So today… Steve doesn’t stomp his foot or swear under his breath. Today Steve claps. Encourages the mediocrity of it all.

“Oh, so you like it when I vocally murder your precious pop tunes?” Eddie laughs. Constantly making himself laugh.

“No, I don’t like it.” Steve folds his arms into his chest. Eddie’s laughter is contagious, Steve catches it as he speaks again. “I like you.”

Eddie’s mouth clamps up. His expression drops. His heart monitor skips two beeps in its pattern.

“Can’t believe I finally found the off-button on you.” Steve glides over to the bed. The upperhand is making him fucking fearless. “Only took me seventy days to find it.”

Steve swipes his thumb under Eddie’s jaw, watching his throat muscles tense at the pressure. Eddie gulps, barely anything goes down. Steve can feel that.

“I…”

“Don’t tell me what you think I wanna hear.” Steve checks the clock. Visiting hours ended four minutes ago, and he doesn’t need to get himself into another spending the night incident. As much as he enjoyed the wake-up call, Steve fucking despised the aftermath of reality.

“Steve…” The way he says Steve’s name - as if someone took his vocal cords and dipped them in sweetener.

“I gotta go.” Steve reaches down and squeezes Eddie’s hand one more time before releasing it. “Call me if you remember.”

He turns around to leave, but Eddie hooks his finger into Steve’s belt loop, tugs rapidly on it. Steve’s cheeks flush right away, he can’t even hide it.

“What if I call you anyway?” Eddie plays along. “Memory or no memory?”

Steve removes Eddie’s hand. He’s about to set it back down when the last bit of caution is finally thrown out the window. Steve lays a quick kiss on Eddie’s middle finger, the finger that’s most injured. He squeezes his palm once, then returns Eddie’s hand back to him.

“Maybe I’ll call you first, Munson.”

He leaves before getting a good look at Eddie’s reception to the hand kiss. Steve has never kissed another dude’s hand before, and there’s a good possibility that he might’ve been laying the charm on too thick. Smearing it all over the moment like goddamn jelly.

But the whole thing was just too irresistible. And Fully Flustered Eddie is a rare sight to behold, so Steve had to do something charismatic. His self-discipline hasn’t improved that much since high school.

Eddie ends up calling first. He calls nine minutes after Steve gets home.

Clingy bastard.

“Beat you to it, Harrington.”

“Not everything is competition, you know.”

“Is that so?” Eddie’s sarcasm is heavy. “Huh. Guess you do learn something new every day.”

“Easy for you to say. Your mind still has the training wheels on it.”

“Touché.”

Day 71:

It’s Saturday morning. Steve sleeps in - well, Steve does his version of sleeping in. Which basically means, the sun is fully up by the time he wakes up. Small victories.

His phone and alarm clock go off almost simultaneously. Which one: freaky. And two: annoying.

He walks over to his desk, eyes half-open, and picks up the phone.

“Hello?” Steve’s voice croaks into the speaker.

There’s no response, just a few heavy breaths.

Steve is more alert now. “Who is this?”

“I remember.”

Oh fuck. “Eddie?”

“You told me to call when I remember.” Eddie repeats. “I remember, Steve.”

“Holy shit um… okay.” Steve rubs the last bit of sleep from his eyes. Searches around his room for his keys or clothes or fuck - he really doesn’t know what he’s searching for.

“You coming to see me or what?”

“It’s Saturday. Henderson comes to see you on Saturdays.”

“Call and tell him to take a raincheck.” Eddie demands. Rightfully excited. “Cause I fucking remember.”

“Okay, okay.”

“I remember!”

Steve is cackling at the excitement. “I fucking heard you!”

“Get your ass over here before I say it again!”

“Alright alright!” Steve hangs up. Never gets ready so fast in his whole damn life. Almost forgets to put on underwear or style his hair.

This is what he’s been waiting for.

Eddie remembers.

It’s the first time Steve feels anxious walking into the room. He’s keenly aware that both of them are in on the secret. No more whispering around the unrequited attraction. Steve is entering a space that is laid bare. No curtains or subtle implications for either of them to hide behind.

As soon as he opens the door, that’s all in the past.

“Oh shit.” Steve isn’t expecting to see Eddie in the chair when he arrives. He’s wearing gray sweatpants under his hospital gown. Steve is pretty thankful for that - not sure the effect that Eddie’s exposed thighs would have on him in this detrimental state.

“Took your seat.” Eddie is all smug. Head to toe smugness.

“I see that.”

“You can take mine, if you want.”

“I’ll pass.”

Eddie winks. “Hope that’s the last time I hear you say that today.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

There’s a stool that the doctors use in the corner of the room. Steve takes a seat on it and rolls over towards Eddie. He stops right in front of Eddie's knees and leans his face in his hand. Tries to downplay his anticipation as much as possible.

“Wanna tell me what you remember?”

Eddie takes a deep breath. He swings his arms out to the side and lets all of his air out in one go. “My tattoos - I remember when I got them.”

Steve’s shoulders drop. Shrink.

The tattoo thing happened several days before the almost-kiss. Day 52.

“Am I wrong?”

Steve doesn’t really say anything. That’s confirmation enough.

Eddie smacks the top of his head. “Shit, I’m wrong. Made you drive all the way out here to be wrong, jesus christ.”

“Hey, hey.” Steve murmurs, keeps his voice kind. “Not entirely wrong.”

His heart feels likes a crunched-up soda can, but whatever. Yeah, Steve’s hope were set way too high, but he can’t blame Eddie for that. Eddie regained some crucial memories - that should be a good thing. It is a good thing.

“Tell me about the tattoos.” Steve rests his hand over Eddie’s knee. It’s been bouncing incessantly, but stops the second Steve touches him. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and uncover all of it by talking through it.”

“Seems stupid now.”

“Hey.” Steve is stern. “Gaining bits of yourself back is never stupid. That’s your fucking history, goddamnit.”

Steve doesn’t mean to use his coaching voice, but he does.

It works though. Eddie stares at him for a long time before admitting that Steve is right. He gives a long sigh before continuing. “I know where and when I got all of them.”

“Fantastic.” Steve gets as comfy as he can on this small, metal stool. He flips open the binder, clicks his pen. He flips it into the air - just cause.

“Tell me all about it,” He says, catching the pen with ease.

Eddie starts out pretty deflated. He starts off in chronological order, which Steve is impressed by. Steve even tries to cheer Eddie along any time he recalls specific details like locations and dates.

The support seems useful. Eddie stops frowning long enough to retell the story about getting a fake ID, just for tattoos. Not for drinking or for getting into clubs. Eddie wanted to be the only sophomore with tattoos.

Steve has never been interested in getting tattoos, there’s nothing he’s ever liked enough to prick needles into his skin. However, he really likes seeing them all over Eddie. All the dark lines and the passionate stories that go with them.

They take a lunch break and snack break, both of them equally improving Eddie’s crabby mood. Eddie gets sort of winded after talking for too long, so Steve helps him to the bed.

“You don’t have to do this.” Eddie says, sticking to his usual response.

“Thought it was obvious” Steve pulls the cover over Eddie’s arms, fluffs out the sides of his pillows. “I want to.”

“Didn’t know you were such a gentleman.” Eddie observes. “Courting the sickly is a weird move though.”

Steve takes his seat back, moving it next to Eddie’s bed. Always closing more distance than he did the last time. “Good thing you’re not sickly then.”

“Courting the freak is still a weird move.”

“Well, say the word and I’ll lay off.”

Eddie mimes zipping his mouth shut, tossing the invisible key into the trash bin.

“Looks like we’re all done with your tattoo summaries.” Steve glances over the bullet points, folds the binder shut. “Anything else you wanna do?”

He’s waiting for Eddie to take his turn. Steve has been leading the affection for days, so he’s cautious about any further touching. Needs physical permission to continue.

“Actually…” Eddie shakes his head. “We’re not done with my tattoo summaries.”

“We’re not?”

“I have six tattoos, Stevie. Not five.”

That can’t be right. Dustin told Steve all about Eddie’s tattoos weeks ago. This must be Eddie’s mind messing with him.

“My memory isn’t faulty, not this time.” Eddie taps over the binder before yanking it away. “I do have another tattoo, Stevie. You’ve just never seen it.”

This dirty chess game just got way more interesting.

There’s no point in playing it safe now. Both of them are taking risks, playing offensively. All guards are down, miles away from Indiana.

“Prove it, then.” Steve’s cheeks warm up. He can feel the blood all over, in his ears, in the tip of his nose. “Show me.”

Eddie’s teeth look sharper when he smiles this time. Like Steve’s dare has turned his bones into blades.

“Are you gonna wig out if I lift this stupid gown up?”

Yes. Steve would never admit that, but yeah. Internally, he’s wigging out so fucking hard right now.

“You’ve puked all over me, dude. If I didn’t haul ass after that, I’m not gonna haul ass after seeing your skin.”

Eddie glares at him. “Could’ve just said no, but whatever. Be a smart ass.”

“Takes one to know one.”

Eddie twists onto his side, bunching up the material and settling it under his arms. Right over his rib cage, is the sixth tattoo.

It’s a birdcage, one that’s been mangled. The metal bars are all crooked and the cage door is wide open. One of Eddie’s demobat scars goes diagonally through the body art, like those creatures were the ones to slash it open. Destroying Eddie’s body in a multitude of ways.

Steve wants to touch it, feel the healing claw marks that look so much like his own, but deeper. He hides his own scars every day with sweaters and jackets, so it’s easy to forget how connected they are. How much pain they are forced to wear. Mutated skin and mutilated minds.

One battle with death and darkness has made them more alike than society ever would have.

“Where’s the bird?” Steve finally asks, mainly to stop his hand from reaching over, brushing the black lines and red scars.

“Didn’t have a chance to get it done.”

“No?”

Eddie contorts his face. “I got this part done back in January. And I was planning to get the bird inked up on the opposite side once I graduated…”

The last word gets all strangled in Eddie’s throat. Steve barely hears it, doesn’t really need to hear it though. He figures it out by the way Eddie’s hands become fists. How he screws his eyes shut, refusing to let the anger fuel his tears.

Steve gets it. Most of his anger turns to sadness these days too. He knows he’s not a weak person, he knows that. But when those two emotions whisk themselves into a twister, Steve feels puny. Pathetic.

He lets his fingers circle the birdcage design on Eddie’s ribs. A cage on top of another cage. He’s pretty sure Eddie did that on purpose - the guy is obsessed with wordplay. Steve makes a spiral shaper over Eddie’s skin, letting the pattern get smaller and smaller as he reaches the center of the design.

Eddie just watches him do it, Steve can feel the stare, the attention. His breathing is shallow, almost stopped. Almost like he’s holding his breath until Steve finishes whatever he’s doing.

“It suits you.” Steve says, moving his palm over to the scar now. Letting the damaged parts of Eddie receive just as much recognition as the tattoo. Eddie didn’t choose to have these markings, but it doesn’t matter. They’re here now. May as well acknowledge them. Engrave them into his history.

“The tattoo?”

Steve looks up. “All of it.”

“Steve.” Eddie tugs on Steve's arm, nails digging in harder than they need to. He almost makes the gesture feel like a question.

Steve answers it. He sits on the edge of the bed and settles one arm over Eddie’s body for support.

This is exactly where they were one week ago. Sharing the same breath, sharing the same tension.

But the resemblance to their sleep-driven moment from last week stops there. They’ve constructed something new, better. There’s anguish from the past and there’s breakable desire for their present. Last week was surreal, dreamy. This week is unrefined.

Steve can’t comprehend why he likes the rawness of today so much more.

“Am I reading this wrong?” Eddie’s hand lifts up to Steve’s cheek, thumb stroking the corner of his lips.

Steve chuckles, whisper-level laughter. “You’re stealing all of my moves here, Munson.”

"What moves?"

"I said the same thing last week."

“Wait.” Eddie’s huge eyes somehow defy science. Get bigger. “That wasn’t a dream?”

“What wasn’t a dream?”

“That really happened?”

Steve is only half listening. “What are you talking about?”

“Well.. almost happened, I guess I should say.” Eddie is starting to ramble. "The nurses told me that I was having batshit crazy dreams all weekend long. I just assumed there was no way that could've been real."

“Can you please tell me what we’re talking about?”

Eddie is grinning, bouncing in the bed like a spring-loaded toy. “I can’t believe I thought it was a dream this whole fucking week!”

“For the love of god, Munson. Just tell me what happened in this stupid dream!”

Eddie cups Steve’s face and pulls him into a kiss. Kisses the glower right off Steve’s mouth. It only takes a split-second for Steve to react, leaning into it. Steve controls the pace to keep everything soft for Eddie’s sake. Calm hands, smooth lips, slow movements.

There’s a small cut on Eddie’s upper lip, Steve can finally feel it now. He opens his mouth enough to lick over it. Pay extra care to the fragile parts.

Eddie whines a little, his hands dropping to Steve’s collar, dragging him into his chest. Steve lets him, lets the kiss get rougher. Sloppier.

It’s clear that Eddie does not share Steve’s careful approach. He’s so grabby, so possessive. His teeth mash into Steve’s bottom lip. He takes the opportunity to bite and tug, makes Steve yelp. Teeth and kissing is usually a turn off, but god, Steve is obsessed with how Eddie does it. How greedy he is.

Steve dips his mouth in, opens up enough to let Eddie bite and lick as much as he pleases. Be greedy. His free hand is planted on Eddie’s waist, just above his bird cage tattoo.

“Come here.” Eddie’s breath is warm, tinged with the chocolate they had on their snack break. He’s pulling Steve harder now, never breaking the kiss for long.

Steve scoots another inch, slides his hand all the way up to Eddie’s neck. “If I get any closer, I’ll be on top of you.”

“I know how physics works, Harrington.”

“Your super-senior status says otherwise.”

“Please, shut up.” Eddie kisses him harder. His skin is extra pink everywhere Steve has pressed against him. For someone that kisses so madly, he looks so soft. Fresh-laundry soft. “Closer, baby.”

Steve sucks all of the air out of the kiss, totally startled by the nickname. He makes a sound, hopefully nothing too whorish or breathy. But Eddie definitely heard it because he’s smiling against Steve’s lips.

Getting closer isn’t really an option with all of the wires and the unlocked door. So Steve drags his lips under Eddie’s jaw, down his neck. Improvises a way to feel closer, explore deeper.

“Holy shit, you’re good at this.” Eddie hisses, tangling his hands into Steve’s hair.

Getting compliments on his kissing technique makes Steve preen, has to fight the urge to mark up Eddie’s already bruised neck. Explaining fresh hickies to an army of doctors would not be a pleasant task. So Steve flattens his tongue, runs it diagonally across Eddie’s collarbone. Pecks kisses over all the wet spots.

Eddie’s hands drift down to Steve’s chin, lifting his focus back up. “Steve.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re just…” Eddie’s eyes dart all over Steve’s face. He's breathing hard, his heart monitor and his pulse are at war right now. So many rhythms in their shared space. “You’re very pretty.”

“You think so?”

“The universe thinks so.” Eddie kisses Steve’s cheek - feels like tiny embers over his skin. “I’m just confirming it.”

Steve smiles, takes a minute to catch his breath. He’s finally realizing how little he’s been breathing for the last few minutes. His lungs ache the way they would after swim meets. Rattled and burning.

"I like you too, by the way." Eddie kisses Steve’s other cheek, makes it even. “Just to clear things up.”

Eddie remembers Steve spilling his heart out yesterday.

“Consider things clear.” Steve laces their fingers together, under Eddie’s blanket. Each of them staring at the connection, both highly aware it means so much more than helpless support this time.

It means absolutely everything.

Steve’s back in the stupid chair that will never be close enough to Eddie. They lower Eddie’s bed so that Steve can rest his elbow on the side, play with Eddie’s hair just like he did with Steve last week.

He’s infatuated with how different their hair textures feel. Eddie’s hair is all frazzled and knotted. Still soft, but not like Steve’s hair. If Steve’s hair is cashmere, Eddie’s hair is woven wool.

“So you thought last Saturday was a dream, huh?” Steve questions.

“I have some crazy vivid dreams.”

Steve shakes his head. “But all that stuff I said to you. Why did you act so confused?”

“The headache medication knocked me out.” Eddie explains. “I thought you heard me talking in my sleep… saying embarrassing shit and you and your hair.”

“So you thought I was mocking you?”

Eddie hums. Very hushed.

Steve untangles his hand from Eddie’s head and sighs. “You should’ve just told me what you were thinking.”

“I know that now.”

“We could’ve been making out all week.”

“Guess we should make up for lost time then.” Eddie hooks his index finger into Steve’s sweater, tugging him closer. Always tugging.

Steve angles himself to meet Eddie in the middle, kissing him sweetly this time, less urgency. Eddie’s lips are still puffy from Steve sucking on them. He wants to do it all over again, keep them puffed-out and swollen.

The kiss is so slow and so good, that Steve only breaks away when his neck muscles start to tighten up. Too many awkward kissing positions in this hospital room - Steve wants to get Eddie into his car or his bed. The floor might be good too.

“So,” Steve threads their hands back together. “Care to fill me in on your little ‘later, sailor’ comment from last week?”

“You did work at the finest ice cream chain to ever grace Hawkins, did you not?” Eddie retorts.

“Yeah. But of all things, how did you remember that?”

Eddie pokes to the top of Steve’s head with his free hand.

“My hair?”

“Your hairspray or product or whatever you use.” Eddie ruffles it and Steve tries not to become liquid at the touch. “Apparently smells can trigger memories almost instantly.”

“Woah.” Steve makes a mental note on that.

“Very woah.”

“And what about… the club?”

“What club? Hellfire?”

“No, not Hellfire.” Steve playfully pinches the inside of Eddie's palm. “The Below Deck club.”

“Fucking hell, you know about that?” Eddie covers his face. “Somebody please, end my suffering. I can’t go on. Not like this.”

Steve is cackling now, keeling over in his chair, almost tearing up from how much he’s laughing. And each time Eddie tells him to knock it off, he laughs harder. This is a better ab workout than he’s ever had at the gym, he should just cancel his fucking membership.

“All I’m hearing is that my ass is unforgettable.” Steve wipes a laughter-induced tear from his eye.

“Cruel.” Eddie mumbles into his hands. “This humiliation is cruel.”

Steve flips back onto the bed, yanking Eddie’s wrists away from his face. “It’s hot.”

“Drooling over an ice cream employee is hot?”

“You drooled?”

“Dear god, stop this madness.” Eddie grabs the tv remote and aims it at his face.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to rewind my mouth from saying stupid shit.”

“Eddie, chill out.” Steve takes the remote, hiding it behind his back. “I’m just glad you remember me. Even if my ass is the most memorable feature.”

“These are pretty memorable too.” Eddie smushes Steve’s cheeks, forces his lips to pucker out.

“Oh yeah?”

“And these.” Eddie squeezes Steve’s biceps. Steve rolls his eyes and wraps Eddie’s arms around him.

They fall back into a long kiss. Visiting hours are about to end, and Sam is off on the weekends. No one is here to let Steve stay the night. So he kisses Eddie like time isn’t a factor. Steve kisses him slow and nice. Eats up any sugary sounds that leave Eddie’s mouth. Whispers how crazy he is about him any time they come up for air.

“I wish you could stay.”

Steve’s heart rips around the edges hearing Eddie say that. Christ, he wants to stay too. So fucking badly. Wants to stock up on chapstick and water so they can make out all night.

“Maybe I can come back tomorrow?” Steve suggests. “Give your bandmates the day off?”

Eddie nods, nuzzles into the crook of Steve’s neck. “Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“What if I forget about this?”

Steve hugs Eddie tighter. “Don’t say that.”

“It could happen.” Eddie peers up at him. “Fuck, I don’t want it to happen, but it could.”

“Hey hey, stop it.” Steve clicks their foreheads together and closes his eyes.

He can’t lie. He can’t tell Eddie that forgetting is impossible. But Steve can keep his eyes closed and savor every minute of today. He can hold Eddie’s kiss-warm cheeks and just hope that everything will be okay tomorrow.

Steve opens his eyes. He sees the Hawkins senior-class ring on his hand, and it gives him an idea.

“Here.” Steve plucks the ring off of his left index finger. He leans over and places it in Eddie’s drawer, right next to his dice collection. “If you remember what happened tonight, you’ll know where that ring is. Put it on tomorrow, so I can visually know that you didn’t forget. So I know it’s okay to come in here and kiss you stupid some more.”

"Like this?" Eddie kisses Steve noisily and they laugh, ignoring the shitty alternative for just a minute longer.

“And if I come in and you don’t have it on… well, I’ll be on my best behavior.” Steve gets up from the bed, crosses his fingers over his heart. “No surprise make out sessions or lewd comments, I swear.”

“You’ll be okay with that?”

That’s a tricky question, Steve doesn’t have a ‘yes or no’ answer to it. He’ll be disappointed, that’s undeniable. But he’s so far into this with Eddie. The notes and the recovery and the feelings. Everything is netted together. Steve couldn’t separate it even if he tried.

“I meant what I said yesterday. I like you, Eds.” Steve puts on a brave smile.

“So yeah. If you forget, then it’ll be a pleasure to restart with you.”

Steve swipes Eddie’s bangs to the side so that he can give him a kiss right in the center of his forehead. Kissing the place where all of Eddie’s memories are tucked away, even the lost ones. Wishing and aching for the memories of tonight to lock into that place, stay safe and secure.

Just stay.

Don’t get lost in there.

Please.

#🎶here comes some contenttttt🎶#steddie fic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #memory log #it's a chonky update but y'all said not to apologize for that soooo 🤐#there will be one more part after this #then we will be done!#thank you to anyone still reading along - totally makes my day #and I'm so sorry if I miss any tags - doing my very best I swear xx

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missy-0-piink · 1 year

Note

Pegging verlaine, catch is you edge him the whole time till hes begging to cum, in the end you give in to his pretty begging and loud cries

OWOEOEEOOEOEEPPE YES

He’s on all fours, chest touching the mattress and hips raised in the air, back in a perfect arch as he grips the pillow, knuckles white

You’re pegging him from behind, thrusting the strap on in and out of him in a fast but gentle pace: the way he likes it

You’re driving him crazy, and he knows that it hasn’t been that long, he knows that other people would be able to handle being edged for longer

But he hasn’t had sex often, at all, Rimbaud and yourself being the only lasting sexual relationships he’s ever had

So forgive him, but he’s so fucking sensitive

He’s leaking all over the sheets, cock feeling like it was going to burst

But every time he got close, you’d stop, never failing to rip out a whine or sob from him

At this point, tears were dripping down his cheeks, face screwed up in a mixture between pleasure and agony

“Please-“ he whimpered out, clutching the pillow like a lifeline

But you wouldn’t relent, edging him again

And again

He had lost semblance of dignity, moaning whorishly

“Please! Please, want to cum!” He sobbed, body trembling as he felt close once again

You leaned down, sure that you were going to drive him crazy with one simple sentence

“Tu veux jouir?” (“You wanna cum?”)

You can immediately tell the affect it has on him, hips bucking and back arching even more, a loud whine tearing itself from his throat

“Mmm-hm! Je veux jouir, je veux jouir! S’il te plaît!” (“I wanna cum, I wanna cum! Please!”) He sobbed, turning his head to look at you through his tears, “hnnn~ plus fort, s’il te plaît, a-ah! ho mon dieu!” (“Harder, please, oh my god!”)

You speed up your thrusts at his command, making sure to pound into his prostate as he squeals

“T’en aimes? T’en aimes?” (“You like that? You like that?”) You coo, “jouis pour moi, cherie~” (“cum for me, baby”)

“Hah! Tu vas me fraire jouir- ngh!” (“You’re going to make me cum-) His entire body tenses, trembling, as he cock spirts out load after load of cum, all of it dripping down onto the sheets

His body still twitching, he drops back down onto the bed, panting to catch his breath, little moans of satisfaction leaving him

You press a soft kiss to his lips, “you did so well baby, so good for me, so perfect”

He whines softly at your words, motioning for you to cuddle with him

“Wait one moment, gotta clean you up first~” you say as you reach for the towel you had set aside, quickly wiping him down, getting rid of the sheet (you’ll have to make due just sleeping on the mattress, you were both too tired to change it), and settling down next to him

He snuggles into you, wrapping his arms around you as he breaths into your neck

“We… we will be doing this again, right?” He asks softly, voice still hoarse from shouting

“Of course!” You reply giddily, peppering his face with soft kisses

————

HAZZAH! I found some translations! 😼

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungoustraydogs #sub bsd #sub bungou stray dogs #sub verlaine #verlaine x reader #sub paul verlaine #paul verlaine x reader #smut

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0perfectimperfections0 · 2 years

Text

Reborn Pt. 2

He woke up some odd time later. Lou didn't bother turning to look out the bedroom window and see if there was any light outside. He stared blankly at the wall across the room.

I'm still stuck here...everything I did...did nothing at all. I'm destined to be here until...until when? How long until my chip just bites the dust? How long am I gonna be forced to live day after day and watch everyone else leave--

"You should've come downstairs," Mandy's voice pulled him harshly from his thoughts, making him startle a bit. The bed moved behind him as she sat down, but he refused to look at her. "We've got dinner ready." No response.

"I'm not hungry." He finally mumbled. Lies.

"Figured you'd say that," she hummed. Something rustled behind him. The next thing he knew, she was holding a piece of toast above him. "Ox made some texas toast. He said you love it."

Lou glared defiantly at it. His stomach growled softly, but Mandy heard it. Stupid body. Stupid world. Stupid Institute. Stupid--

"You can pout all you want to, but you've gotta eat sooner or later."

"I'm not pouting," he looked to the wall again. Screw the stupid piece of toast. He wasn't throwing away the very last thing he had left to offer in this blasted world -- his dignity. Of course, with that complete trainwreck of an emotional breakdown earlier, he may have already lost that, too.

Mandy leaned over him, arm propping her up on the other side of his body. She waved the toast closer to his mouth, "I'm not leaving till you eat it. You're hungry and in your feelings right now. And you have every right to be. But please eat something."

He could see her face now, worried. She was worried about him. He also noticed she was wearing a new pair of glasses. Ones that weren't broken in the middle. He refused to acknowledge the guilt that pooled in him at that memory.

It seemed all he was going to do was stare at her, lost in whatever he was thinking of. As long as she honestly could've just stayed there, staring into his eyes, she was adamant about making him eat something. "Don't make me carry you all the way downstairs. I bet Ox knows a thing or two about how to get you to eat. The way he talked makes it sound like this isn't the first time."

It wasn't. Stupid bunny had to go and spill every secret the blonde had. Regardless, he knew Mandy would be more than capable of picking him up and doing as she said. To save himself any more embarrassment, he supposed he had to comply. She smiled when a hesitant hand took the toast, and he took a shy bite from it, staring back at the wall.

"The outfit looks nice on you," she commented idly while he ate. She rubbed the end of his vest between her fingers. The machines had adorned him in the same attire as the other male dolls. Plaid pants with a white dress shirt and a black vest over the top.

This outfit was definitely more breathable. He was not stiff, and he could actually move his arms more without sleeves restricting him. The only problem was that he wasn't the same size as the other dolls -- another issue he was hoping would've been fixed by the recycling. His creator hand-made him, meaning the dolls manufactured by the machines were of a bigger scale. Not by too much, and he usually presented himself on stage, so the difference was rarely mentioned. It was obvious now, though, as the pants draped over his feet and the shirt and vest hung loosely from his torso. Maybe that was the reason behind the breathing room.

He slowly finished the bread in silence. Anything to appease her and let him wallow in his thoughts alone. A part of him -- subdued part of him -- found vast comfort in her company, though. He coiled at the thought of that being the reason behind him eating slowly. Once he was done and wiped the crumbs from his face, Mandy gave him a bright smile. "Feel better?" He would be loath to admit he did a little, maybe craving more now that his stomach was aware there was food.

Since she wasn't expecting a response, he wasn't surprised when she didn't wait for one. What caught him off guard was when arms hooked under his knees and underarms, lifting him off the bed. "Gosh, you do need to eat. You're light."

"Put me down! This is humiliating!" He struggled against her. "I can walk on my own!"

"Bold of you to assume that I trust you to go to the kitchen on your own."

"I'll go! I'll go! Geez, just put me down!"

She scrutinized him a moment before relenting and setting him on the floor. Taking a firm hold of his hand, she linked their arms together so he couldn't run back to the bed. "Fine, but I take no chances."

There was literally no point in resisting. He didn't weigh enough to keep her from dragging him out the door, let alone to prevent being carried again. So, they proceeded down the hall, arms linked and hand-in-hand. Mandy pointedly ignored the smirk Nolan sent her way. "Took you a while," he noted slyly, swirling his straw around in the glass of water.

"There was some resistance," she narrowed her eyes back to the brunette.

Wage snorted from where she stood at the kitchen counter, "What, air resistance? He weighs barely anything."

Ox pushed a plate to an empty seat at the table. "Which is gonna be fixed startin' now. Eat up, Lou."

"I'm not--ow!" He glared at Mandy, who had kicked him when he was about to decline the offer. She nodded to the seat. "This is stupid," he muttered under his breath. It didn't go past him, either, that they set him on the side facing away from the window. The window showed the shimmering view of the portal in all its stupid glory. Nolan did him the favor of completely closing the blinds since they had plenty of lighting inside. "Thanks," Lou whispered so only Nolan could hear. The brunette was surprised at first but gave a small smile and settled back into his seat beside Lou.

"Gosh," Nolan looked the almost-blonde over. A hand pulled at the back of Lou's collar, "What measurements is your suit in? It's practically hanging off of you."

"I'm sure you'd be happy to tailor him a new one, Nolan," Mandy looked at him expectantly. "Right?"

"Gee, thanks, you ruined the surprise," Nolan looked at her flatly. Turning back to Lou, "I'll make you a smaller one. Heck, I can make you your old suit if you want."

"There ain't some smaller sizes around town?" Ox offered.

A gesture was made to the doll in question. "Look at him! He's tiny. No doll is that small." Moxy slowly raised a hand from where she sat across from Lou. Nolan held a hand up toward her, deadpan, "I meant Pretty Dolls. No model 12 is his size."

"I'm right here, you know," Lou grumbled, pushing some food around with a fork.

He was ignored. "How small is small?" Ox asked offhandedly. "A little baggy won't hurt 'im."

"Ox, what he's wearing now is the standard model 12 attire. It literally swallows him whole. I guarantee you there isn't a single doll in this place that's his size."

The two continued going back and forth. A hand rested between Lou's shoulders. Mandy poured him some more water from behind. "We can always get you some clothes that are meant to be worn oversized. It won't be as...professional as what you're used to, though." She suggested quietly to him.

"Will it make my size less noticeable?" He sighed as Nolan and Ox continued pointing out the obvious.

She laughed quietly, "Come on." Lou quickly followed her to the living room. She rummaged through a backpack, pulling out something. Lou waited awkwardly. A white hoodie was held up in show for him. "Wanna try this? It's really soft inside. Feel it!" She pulled back the sleeve a bit for him to feel. It...was soft.

A patter of footsteps rushed past him, and Moxy pulled out something from the backpack as well. "Are we doing dress-up? I love it! Okay, how about these?" Moxy threw a pair of sweatpants at him that he barely managed to catch.

Mandy at least draped the hoodie into his arms. "Go change, and then you can tell us how comfortable you are."

"I'll look ridiculous," he scrunched his nose at the clothes.

"Not any more than you do right now!" Moxy beamed up at him.

He gave her a flat look, turning on his heel to go to the bathroom. The pants he had on now went past his feet, making it a hazard to walk any distance.

The moment he looked into the bathroom mirror, he froze. Wow...it wasn't a major difference, but when you get used to seeing the same face every day, it's mind-blowing. Lou leaned closer to the reflection, turning his head to inspect the freckles. He wasn't...ugly...maybe. Lou swallowed, looking away from the foreign face. This was him now. No more Mr. Perfect. He was hideous now. Trash.

Fingers drummed against the counter, eyes growing weary as the self-deprecating thoughts settled in. The clothes were changed. They were still baggy, but Mandy said they were meant to be worn that way. Lou figured he'd look hideous no matter what now. So, what was the point in trying anymore?

The second he entered the living room, a squeal grabbed his attention. Moxy rushed up to him, eyes wide, "Oh my doll! You look adorable! Now try this on--"

"Moxy, we're not playing dress-up," Mandy giggled.

Just as Moxy brushed off her comment to hold a jacket up to the Pretty Doll, a knock slammed against the door. It sounded again as Nolan stood up from his seat, "Coming!" He rolled his eyes, muttering, "Gosh, break the door down why don't you--"

A fan of red light immediately swept over Nolan when he opened the door. Before he said anything, the robot responded. "I am looking for Prototype Model 12, also known as Louis Everett."

"You have a last name?" Moxy whispered to the boy beside her. Lou swallowed, taking a step behind Mandy.

"Uh," Nolan glanced at him, then back to the robot. "He's not here. Is there a message I can give to him?"

"I have tracked him to this location," it answered. "His creator needs to speak with him."

Lou's pupils shrunk, now hiding behind Mandy. She reached back to shield him from whatever threat this robot seemed to pose. Lou was scared for a reason.

"Your tracker must be wrong, then," Nolan straightened. "He's not here. I'll let him know you're looking for him, though." He went to close the door, but the robot stopped it, bracing a hand against the wood.

It loomed over the brunette. "Failure to comply will result in extermination. Where is Model 12 Prototype?"

Nolan, stiff and at a loss for what to do, tensed even more when Lou suddenly stood in front of him. "I'm here." He put on a stoic face despite his nerves bundling inside. "What does Mr. Everett want?"

A red light washed over him, and the robot's eyes flashed green. "Prototype Model 12, Confirmed. Mr. Everett has requested to talk to you virtually." It entered the house without an invitation. Its hand ejected a flash drive, inserting it into the box plugged into the tv.

Nolan glanced between the robot and Lou. "Is Mr. Everett like...your dad?"

A shudder went down the doll's spine at that word. "No," he answered sharply. "He's...He created me...by hand. Well, before I...," he gestured lamely to his new appearance.

"So," Mandy stepped beside him as they watched the robot do...whatever it was doing, "Something tells me he's not gonna be happy."

"...No," Lou answered with much less fire.

#uglydolls #lou #mandy #moxy #nolan #ox #wage #babo #luckybat #uglydog #fanfiction #writing #stx #part 2

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biffhofosho · 2 years

Note

MY TIME HAS COME HI I AM BACK and this time I TRIPLE CHECKED FOR TYPOS IN THIS MF!!!!! I guess I don’t have to tell you how excited I am to finally read this. The paragraph with the vibe ALONE has me howling, literally since I am home alone.

The idea of the big bad werewolf having a small fluffy, yappy dog sends me

I love that mysterious neighbour vibe, I do. I mean everything was fine till HE WAS BITTEN!!!!! Hahaha

I Mean I grew up in Mexico, damn dogs bark every night, all night, I never noticed until my husband complained to me about it. If it’s often enough you’ll tune it out, but yeah, every month? You gotta notice that

Also high five for mentioning mesoamerican anthropology, lol

I love the way you describe the houses and the general ambiance of the neighbourhood,

Agan, had this been in Mexico, you would have neighbours and people knocking on your door because, where have you been? We haven’t seen you in ages? Is everything ok? Do you need anything?

Oh wow, “a helping hand” comes into action. Wink wonk

“Flashes of chains, of white-knuckled hands on wrists and waists, of tits furiously bouncing and cock wickedly hammering between shaking thighs, flooded her mind along with the dopamine” GOOD LORDT YES

Also thanks for not using the phrase “Ruined underwear” to talk about some wetness on your knickers.

“Kat couldn’t shake it from her mind. He was living in there, somewhere deep in the shadows of her most primitive self, possessing her, and he didn’t even have the dignity to be real.” I FUCKING LOVE THIS

Magic, Witchcraft, and the Supernatural Body anthro course. SIGN ME UP!!! Ohhhhh sexy neighbour, and he’s angry, yes

Give me one more. I know you can, baby. Good girl. OF COURSE IT WAS HIS VOICE.

I want nothing in life except Yoo Kihyun calling me his good girl.

Wow her note is so passive aggressive, I love it

“You’re welcome to come over any time you want and try.” CHALLENGE OR INVITATION? I SAY BOTH

KITTEN? Just like that? Not even a warning?? I normally hate pet names, but not this one and not coming from this specific man

I spoke too soon about the ruined underwear…. (they are not ruined, just wet, they will be fine. looooooll)

OMG IS SHE IN HEAT??????

The howling again!!!!!! Awwwwoooooooooooooooooo

“This one was long and warbling, like a desperate cry for attention, and it had hers instantly” I AM CHEWING ON MY HAND

For a moment I thought I might have eaten the dog, lol. I am glad he’s safe

“I had to, officer! The dogs sounded lonely?” LOL. like when you break the window of a car because there’s a dog inside in a very hot summer

OMG SHE IS IN HIS BED NO!!!! SHE IS GONNA DO IT, YES SHE IS AND THIS PROBABLY THE PART WHERE I, TOO, WILL BECOME FERAL.

OH SHE DID NOT. I am dissapoint…

But also I love how dramatic she is. That’s what goody-two-shoes always do, be dramatic and think the police will take them to jail forever

“She did not expect to see her neighbor tethered by a thick leather collar to the wall.” OK NO THIS IS WHERE I GO FERAL

“Of course it's my business. It's for me.” Lower now, in a borderline hiss, he added, “I can smell it. You’re almost ready— It’s time to—god, if you’d just let me—” i mean reading this in context, complete… just makes me grgrrgggrrgggggggg

Kihyun asking her if he came on his bed just got me doing a little dance

“There’s no time for that now. Can’t you see I’m losing the last of my control, baby? There are things it needs, like fresh meat and moonlit runs, and there are things it wants. I'm down here because of the things it wants. If it weren’t for this chain…” I AM MAKING THE MOST INCOHERENT NOISES RIGHT NOW

HIS MATE!!!!!! HIS MATE I AM….

The way he called for her! The way he is desperate but yet he commands her! The way she surrendered! I hope you know I am cursing at you right now cause it’s like you know what I like.

that part where she is howling and she notices? I MEAN KINDLY FUCK OFF!!!!!!!

The way he babbles into her neck

I am gone

Bye

Ohhh the pearly gift, that’s poetic AF

AHHH trusty friend Hyungwoo, gotta love him

OH THEY’RE A PACK I AM SO HAPPY

My memes come true!!

Also, so romantic!!! So beautiful. After the dust of lust settled, there's looove and I can’t get enough of it

“You’re not alone anymore.”

MAAAAAANNNNNN, so good!!! So fucking good!!!! I love it and I am so happy right now, of course now i am gonna go to work thinking about this, lol

and every time I read anything from you

love you sososos much

Yes, babygirl, I'm so glad you could actually read in a timely fashion before the next one drops (*coughs* this Sunday *coughs)!

Ah, see? That's very interesting about the barking dogs. This would fly totally under the radar there, but not in the American suburbs. Fuck, I'll report your nuisance dog lol. Don't fuck with my sleep! *insert "ain't nobody got time for that" gif*

Maybe--just maybe--I slipped that Mesoamerican thing in there for my good friend. ;)

Hahahaha, yeah, Americans go their entire lives living next door to the same people and have no fucking clue what their names are because we *care* about each other... >.>

LOL

"didn't even have the dignity to be real" -- I may or may not have been targeting myself with this line. <.<

I love that we want the same things in life loooooooool.

Gee, I know nothing about being passive aggressive at all............... 100%, I would have written that note.

Girl, bye, "ruined for the day" is unnecessarily wordy, and if you gotta spend the whole day in them, yeah, that shit also ruins your day lol... Not that I would know anything about such things................................................

You almost ate the dog? Heh.

hahahahahahaha you are not the only one to be disappoint in that ;)

Yes! You get special friends-only previews, but when you see how something fits into the larger picture, it gets a bit more intense, doesn't it?

Girl, can I just say, picturing Kihyun crawling across the floor on a fucking leash made me very unstable for a while after writing it.

I am glad it made you happy, friendo. <3 This was the longest ask ever, and I loved it. Werewolf agenda achieved! So many more fun AUs to tackle still. Can't wait for you to read them all.

#gee thanks #new bestie!#best reader ever #bad dog #it's so much fun being your friend <3

0 notes

ssplague · 3 years

Text

Just thinking about…

ALPHA BAKUGOU & his “late bloomer” OMEGA GIRLFRIEND ��🥀

Rated M

*Will be releasing part 2 of this (scheming scumbag Katsu will make a brief appearance in that one, he’s just ultra horny for ya in this one)

Part 2

👉🏼👌🏽

-You’re the only omega in not just 1-A but the entire 2nd year class, that has yet to of suffered through gotten their ♨️HEAT♨️

-At the ripe age of 13 (some even younger than that) omegas around you fell victim to had all started getting it.

-You nervously waited for it to be your turn.

-Age 13 came and went

- You still hadn’t gotten it

- The next three years passed by in a similar fashion

-Your mother and fellow omega friends consistently reassured you that these things tend to happen, always saying “You’re just a late bloomer ________, it’ll come soon” as they gave your shoulders a squeeze or a soft pat to your pretty little head

-One person in particular was sweating (pun not intended) this fact much more than you were: That person being an Alpha and your closest childhood friend (He’d seen to it); Katsuki Bakugou.

-God, how he dreamed of the day you’d finally present 💝 This thought fueled a long awaited fantasy he’d imagined since his rut first hit.

Closing his eyes he pictures himself entering your house, heading straight towards your bedroom door. Swiftly opening it, he’d find you naked with your back arched, ass poised high in the air, pussy glistening with slick as you look back at him. Begging with your eyes, pleading as his name falls from your lips. Any shred of dignity long forgotten and replaced with a desperate need only for him.

-He’d reassured you over and over again that you were the only one for him and he’d wait as long as he needed to.

-As of late, Katsuki was getting restless, tired of only fucking your throat or his fist.

-Don’t get me wrong, he’s had a fair amount of pussy (Unbeknownst to his pretty little omega)

-What more would you expect from such a good looking boy like him?

-He’d run through each of them, all reaching the same outcome; Fucking the girl dumb as he desperately pretended each one was you, leaving them sore and aching, watching him flush the condom as he went.

-With those wild oats sewn, he’d finally gotten around to confessing his feelings and asking to court you.

-You’d been overjoyed to accept.

-In the past; His mother and yours made sure to keep you two completely separate during his ruts.

-Now with you two residing in the school dorms, they weren’t capable of doing this anymore, now it had been your stupid friends.

-Unaware of it yet, lady luck smiled on Katsuki this Friday as school came to an end, a majority of your classmates were going out for a beach bonfire this weekend.

A fresh wave of irritation spread throughout him as he felt the last of the suppressants he’d swallowed this morning burning out of his system. Collecting his things he was intent on hurrying back to his room to lock himself in; He’d already decided which of the many cumshot videos (all featuring you of course 💦😜) to watch as his rut fully began. When suddenly you appeared in front of him, “Geez ‘Suki you were hard to catch up with!”. He gave you the most relaxed smile he could muster as he said “Or maybe you are just too damn slow, gotta speed up pretty girl”. You rolled your eyes and giggled at that.

Then the following conversation took place:

So you still plan on staying back this weekend right? Everyone’s taking off around ten, guess they’ll be gone till Sunday evening.

I already told you that dumbass, and I’m aware.

Well…I’m staying behind too, so….if you aren’t busy maybe we can-

Just come to my room princess, I’ll see you later though okay? I really need to head in

-He felt bad for leaving you hanging like that, but it was better than what would have happened if he didn’t. Besides, it would be better to jump your bones for the first time without an audience.

-You watched him run off, feeling more down then when you’d first approached him.

Originally, you planned on going with the rest of your class, but for the last two days you hadn’t felt right…Strange feelings were continuously coming and going all throughout your body and mind. At least Katsuki had agreed to spend time with you though, he always made you feel better. According to him that was his job as YOUR ALPHA. Bidding your classmates good bye and telling them to have a safe trip, you set off towards your dorm. Once inside; The two words echoed around repeatedly in your head, making your heart thump and your thighs clench.

It was an hour after that when you began not feeling quite right…not right at all ♨️

#katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugo thirst #alpha Katsuki #alpha bakugo #alpha bakugou #bnha omegaverse #bakugou thirst #alpha katsuki bakugou #shorties #tw a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics #katsuki x reader #Katsuki smut #bakugo headcanons #bakugou headcanons

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diamond-coral · 3 years

Text

The Heist (part 3/finale)

Steve x Reader

Chapter summary: Captain’s plan worked. Now you’re in for a lot of trouble after trying to break into his apartment. He’ll have you. Just like he wanted.

Warnings: 18+, explicit sex, dark, rape/non-con, forced orgasm, praise and degradation kink, kidnapping, mentions of strip club, mentioned anal, swearing, mild violence, slight Stockholm

“You wanna be treated like a whore?” he seethed. “Fine. I’ll treat you like a whore.”

Steve wrenched you from the wall and let you fly back toward his bed, your feet tripping over themselves as well as the chain attached to the cuff secured around your ankle before you finally tumbled onto the mattress. Your breathing was heavy as you glared back at his cerulean eyes which were narrowed, daring you to try anything.

And you did. Because fuck if you weren’t going down without a fight.

You darted out to the right, arm reaching out to take grip of the lamp on his nightstand. You grabbed hold of it and pivoted your body around as your arm flung out toward his head. Steve simply intercepted the hit with a firm grasp, and you gritted your teeth as the two of you began an aggressive tug of war for the lamp.

“Stop. This. Now,” Steve scolded as if you were a child before giving a sharp tug, the lamp slipping out of your hand.

“No thanks.” You grinned, catching him off guard, before you grabbed both his shoulders as support and kneed him in the groin. Hard.

Steve let out a pained groan. He dropped the lamp, and you caught it by the handle before using all your strength to swing the base against his head like a baseball bat. He stumbled backwards while his hand reached up near his temple. He pulled it back and inspected the blood. You remained frozen, having hoped that the blow would have at least knocked him out. His broad figure compromised your escape route to the door of his bedroom, so running was not an option.

“We need to fix this fuckin’ attitude of yours,” he grumbled, and while you were lost in your predicament of all escape routes being impossible, he snatched the lamp, this time breaking it in half like a toothpick before tossing both ends over his shoulder to the opposite side of the room. “I wanted a kind and docile housewife. Not some ungrateful bitch.”

He practically pounced on you, and you fought, pushing against his brick wall of body, before relenting with the knowledge he was far too strong for you.

“Well you’ve got the wrong person, buddy-pal,” you quipped, but your voice trembled in your compromised position..

“No. I don’t. Because I’ve already seen her, you, at the club. And I don’t know why the hell you gotta give me some attitude when I’m trying to save you from the shitshow of a life you’re livin’. Maybe you’re just scared. Scared of letting someone take care of you when you’ve been fighting for yourself for so long, so you put on the unappreciative bitchy exterior.”

Was this man serious? How delusional did he have to be to think all of that after one encounter?

“Well guess what,” he whispered, face so close to you that his breath fanned over you. “I’ll fucking rip it apart. I’ll break you down. Shatter this pathetic wall you have up until I get back the girl at the club. Might take a couple good fuckings, but I’ll finally get it out of you.” His thumb stroked your cheek, brushing away the tears that had shed at his admissions. “Aww, baby, don’t cry,” he cooed. “This is for the best.”

You let out a small whimper, another round of tears flowing, at the sound of his belt unbuckling and fly coming undone.

You began pounding against his chest and begged him not to.

You wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Easily holding you down, Steve let out a stuttered moan as he entered you slowly. You begging turned into sounds of agony as he stretched you out and filled you like no other had before.

“I wanted our first time time to be special. Slow and loving,” he confessed as he stilled inside of you. He slowly pulled out before slamming his hips back in and muffling your shriek with a large hand. “Gotta say, this is still pretty special though. Might just love those big watery doe eyes lookin’ at me a little more than that cute smile of yours. You just look so pretty, all wrecked and crying for me, doll.” He moved his hand slightly aside to lick a strip of your tear stained cheek, letting out a hum of approval.

You thrashed under him, hands lashing out until one of his own came to wrangle both wrists above your head, so you resorted to bucking your hips in hopes of throwing him off. It was hopeless.

But you wouldn’t go down without a fight.

The hand covering your mouth moved down to hold you hip down in a bruising grip. He just rutted into you harder and faster in response to your outburst.

You couldn’t bring yourself to make a noise. The searing of your walls was slowly melting into pleasure. You feared accidentally letting a moan slip and alerting Steve to your pleasure.

But Steve could tell how you enjoyed it. Although tears flowed freely from your eyes, your pussy squelched, the sound blending in with the clapping of skin each time he drove into you.

“Told you. I’d fuck you. Like a whore,” He managed to get out between thrusts. “And you fuckin’ love it too.” He let out a dark chuckle. “God you’re such a slut.”

You whined as he pulled out when he flipped you over, but he made up for it by beginning to drill into you harder than before. With every brutal thrust, his cock glided against your g-spot before the tip punched against your cervix, and your eyes rolled back into your head.

Steve roped your hair around his palm and yanked your head back. Your back arched painfully to accommodate.

“Tell me you’re a slut. Tell me your my slut. Only mine. Only for me. Not that stupid fuckin’ club. Mine.”

“N-no. No,” you stuttered, barely being able to form words. You wouldn’t let him have his victory. You wouldn’t give it to him and bend to him.

Because you wouldn’t go down without a fight.

He once again yanked your hair, this time using the momentum to bring your body flush against him. His other arm came to wrap around your waist, and he secured your back to him, never once letting up on fucking you. The new angle made your body light on fire, and a moan escaped past your lips.

“Say it. Say you’re my slut and I’ll let you cum.”

You wouldn’t. You still had some dignity left. You’d be strong. You’d-

“Oh fuck, I’m your slut. Please let me cum. Please, please, I need it so bad. I’m your fucking slut! Only yours Steve!” you cry out. Humility and pleasure both burned your body.

“Atta girl,” he grunted, quickening his pace. “Cum now. Cum all over my cock.”

You did just that. Your cunt clenched around his cock while you gushed around him. Pleasure constricted around your entire body like fire.

“Good little whore. All mine,” Steve chanted, but you barely heard him. All you could think about was Steve and his cock. You shattered. Your mind, your body, your will, all shattered to a million pieces.

________________________________________________________________

You sigh, smoothing down the flowy pink skirt that stopped right about your knees. That was all six months ago but it felt like years. Steve made good on his word. Here you were, the good little docile housewife, waiting for him to return home from a mission that had taken him three days, a home cooked meal sitting on the table. Waiting to be devoured by the ravenous man who would return. Just like you.

You didn’t even attempt to escape this time. The first time you had managed to shatter the living room window with a lamp (ironic, huh?) while Steve was in the bathroom. You had made it down the fire escape before he intercepted you in the alley and dragged you quietly back to the apartment with a gun concealed between your bodies. When you got inside, Steve brutally took your virgin asshole. The second time, you tried the same thing, but Steve caught you before you even stepped foot out the window. After replacing the glass with a new bulletproof material from S.H.I.E.L.D., he starved you for five days, only allowing you water. He still made you cook for him though. It was a cruel joke to him, watching you make him a meal while your stomach was about to eat itself. He’d fuck you hard after, and your body felt like it’d break in half.

The third time was three months after that. You’d managed to gain his trust enough to let him take you for a walk in the park, and after a knee to the groin, you took off and hid yourself in a crowd of people. It wouldn’t be a good image for Captain America to be hunting down an innocent girl on the streets of New York. You managed to be away from him for almost 24 hours, but you couldn’t go to the police. After telling them you were a stripper that broke into Captain America’s apartment, you highly doubt they’d believe the rest of your story.

You were in the grocery store with some stolen cash when Bucky Barnes finally caught you. He muttered a couple words about how pretty Bella was and how he’d hate to put a bullet through her pretty head, and you followed him like a dog back to Steve’s building. Steve, as a thank you to Bucky and a punishment for you, let Bucky fuck you for hours till you passed out with his metal hand around your neck.

You smile to yourself, hoping Steve would be happy that you remained compliant and would be there to greet him as he returned home.

The sound of a lock turning snaps you out of your thought, and your head turns to the door as Steve enters.

“Sweetheart!” you say as you throw yourself on him, hands intertwined behind his neck.

“Hi honey,” he greets, smiling down at you, taking in the sight before he leans down to give you a peck on your painted red lips. You almost frown at your eagerness to return it. Almost. But your interest is directed toward Steve as he reaches into a paper shopping bag. “Got you a little something. Know how much you love to paint.”

He pulls out a set of brushes, showing them to you, before handing you the entire bag. You look inside and gasp. So many colors and canvases. This was your life before he had trapped you, and here he was, giving you a piece of it back.

“Steve, I don’t even know how to thank you,” you begin. “I-”

Steve cuts you off with a deep kiss.

“Anything for my girl. Besides I figured you could use some practice.”

“For what?” you ask.

“Well, I bought us a house!” he announces, grinning. “That implant of yours will be wearing off in a couple months, and I’d love for you to paint a mural in the nursery. For our baby.”

#dark!steve x reader #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark!steve

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andilovetowrite · 3 years

Text

Punch to the Heart (Part 1)

Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: After repeatedly blowing you off on plans, events and trips, you have finally had enough. But Peter soon regrets it as he sees the harsh reality of almost losing his best friend.

Based on a request you can find here!

Warnings- Crying and a bit of flinching. This is probably my most angsty fic yet, with sprinkles of fluff here and there :)

Here is my Masterlist in case you wanna find more of my work :)

Part 2

“No, I can’t make it.”

“Sorry, I gotta hang out with MJ.”

“Oh, MJ wants to go out for the evening.”

“Of course I can’t come for movie night, MJ and I are going on a date.”

“Hey Pete, I got the snacks here, come on in”, you said, excited to be spending time with your best friend for the first time in weeks.

“Uh, so I can’t stay for movie night. I gotta pick up MJ and we are heading to her house for the night.”

As he said that, you could feel your heart sinking, stomach curling. Peter never used to bail on your plans, let alone not come to movie nights. Before he started dating MJ and fought Mysterio, you two were inseparable. Always joined at the hip. Whether it was Spiderman duties or simple day to day things, you two would always do it together. Through thick and thin.

That was your motto. You and Peter made it when you were young. But perhaps, you could get through thick and thin, but not through MJ…

“What do you mean? We have been planning this for more than a month. Or well, I have”, you said bitterly, rolling your eyes.

“Well, can’t we just reschedule or something. MJ wants me there tonight.”

You scoffed, looking down. “Peter, I’m your best friend and we haven’t hung out in a month. Can’t you just postpone your plans with MJ?”

He sighed, looking annoyed. “Okay, I can’t just bail on MJ!”

“But you have no problem turning me down every time….”

Peter chuckled humourlessly, running his hand through his hair. “But she is my GIRLFRIEND Y/N!”

“So that’s just an excuse now?” you asked, taking a step back when he yelled.

“Look, it’s not my fault that I want to spend time with my girlfriend. So stop always trying to get attention, and for gods sakes, stop being so fucking clingy!” Peter shouted, throwing his arm back. You stood still, stunned. Tears started welling up in your eyes as you looked down. You wanted to say something, a backhand comment, something to redeem your dignity, but all you let out was a choked sob. Suddenly, Peter looked up, recognition on his face as he reached out to you. But just as he was going to touch you, you flinched, stepping further away from him.

Hurt burst through his face when he saw what you were doing. “Y/N, I didn’t mean-”

“Just go, Peter. You already know how to…” you whispered, arms wrapping around your frame. You felt a fresh batch of tears forming, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing it. So you turned around, grabbed the door handle, and turned to see him, heartbreaking in two as you saw the flowers he had held behind his back for MJ.

“I’ll stop being a clingy best friend. Hell, I’ll just stop being a best friend.” And with that, you walked in, shutting the door behind you before crumbling to the ground. The smell of fresh sandwiches was in the air, the kind from Delmar. You knew Peter liked them, so you had gone and bought some for your movie night. But now, the sight of them made you curl up as you cried softly into your arms.

A part of you hoped Peter would come back, knock on the window and say that he had dumped MJ and was ready to spend time with you. Alas, life doesn’t always go the way you hoped it would, since, within minutes, you heard the familiar WHAP of his web. That was the first night in years that you cried yourself to sleep….

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ugh”, you mumbled as your eyes tried to adjust to the bright yellow light streaming in through the window. “Mom, close it!”

“Nope, you have to get up! This pity party of yours has been going on for too long. You’ve stayed in bed the entire weekend. You have to go to school today!” Your mom stood up, yanking your cover out of your bed. She sighed, looking at your bedridden head and dark circles. “How late did you stay up till?”

You sighed, leaving the warm embrace of your bed. “Just till one”

Your mom clasped your shoulder, pulling you up gently. “Okay I don’t know what happened, but I have a plate of bacon and egg on the table. Go have a shower and then get some breakfast.” She ruffled your hair. “A full stomach makes a happy person” She winked at you before walking out of your room.

You pulled yourself out of bed and into the bathroom, shedding your clothes. Stepping under the war water, you let your worries flow away with the mascara marks that were stuck on your face. Running your fingers through your tangled hair, you promised yourself Peter wouldn’t see you break down today. Drying off, you walked out of the room, dressed in some of your comfortable clothes. Quickly eating your breakfast, you left for school, wanting to get there before everyone else arrived. You ran up the stairs, going straight to the library. You didn’t have a busy day, actually, you had only 2 classes today but quite a bit of work to do… Since you had something else to do on the weekend.

Tossing your books down, you grabbed a chair, getting your notebook out to start writing. Time passed as you did your work, your hand aching but you didn’t care. For some reason, you couldn’t immerse yourself in you studies.

As if on cue, your “reason” walked through the door, heading straight for your table. You acted as if you couldn’t see him, staring down at your scribbles. Hearing his feet get closer, you tense up, breathing heavily.

“Your heartbeat is getting faster, so it’s kinda useless trying to avoid me…”, Peter said, towering over you. Furrowing your eyebrows, you glared up at him, not saying a word, worried about what might come out of your mouth. Peter sighed, sitting down. You looked at him warily. He didn’t say anything else, just continued to stay quiet and stare at his lap.

Okay, you thought, starting to pack up your things, If he doesn’t want to talk, then neither should I.

You stood up, an as if Peter saw you for the first time, he reached out grabbing your wrist, making you flinch back. “Sorry”, he muttered, retracting his arm. “Sorry”, he said again, looking you in the eye. “I’m sorry. I know I haven’t been spending time with you, and blowing you off everytime. I just- uh, MJ is my first girlfriend. Ever. And I just don’t want to screw this up.”

You scoffed at his words, looking away. “So you would rather screw up a friendship of 8 years than say no to your girlfriend of two months?”

Peter shook his head, trying to find the right words. “I-I don’t want to stop spending time with you just because MJ is now part of my life. Plus, I miss our movie nights…”

You contemplated it, staring at Peter’s soft puppy eyes he was giving you.

“Okay, fine. It’s okay, I know I can be clingy sometimes, and I’m sorry-”

“You’re not clingy! At all. I’m sorry I said that.”, Peter said hurriedly.

“I just don’t want to lose my best friend Pete. Even when we went to Europe you ignored me. And I know it was because of Beck, but after that, it was always MJ this or MJ that!”

Peter hung his head down, not responding. You sighed again, staring at him. “It’s fine Peter. Let’s just try and make time, alright?”

Peter nodded, smiling hesitantly at you before opening his arms. Smiling back at him, you hugged him, feeling the warmth of his body for the first time in days. You felt him nuzzle his head into your neck, his warm breath hitting your skin, leaving a tingling sensation. Without even thinking about it, you whispered softly into his shirt. “I love you Peter Parker.” As soon as the words left your mouth, you tensed up, but Peter didn’t respond. You relaxed, as he probably didn’t hear it.

You could’ve stayed with Peter for hours, but then his phone started ringing loudly, He let go, sheepishly smiling at the annoyed librarian. Looking at his screen, you saw a picture of his and MJ, with her kissing his cheek, way too close to his mouth. Turning away, you tried to concentrate on anything else but Peter’s voice as he picked up the phone, words of love and admiration flowing out.

Hearing what MJ was saying, you leaned closer. “Where are you Peter? It’s been 15 min.”

Peter didn’t say anything for a moment, looking back at you, which made you look away. “I’m just doing something. I’ll be right there…”

He turned around to you, giving you a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I gotta go. I’ll see you later though, right?”

Nodding at him, you pulled your books out again, and watched him walk out quickly, a bounce in his step. You hoped you would see him later, that he would keep his promise of spending time with you, that he would stand up to MJ and tell her that he wanted to hang out with you. But for the second time in a few days, you were wrong. So bloody wrong. And this broken promise would definitely be a punch to the heart…

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Ooh, I really liked this one! Anyway, thank you for reading this, and the next part will be out later this week, possibly on Friday or Saturday. If you want to be tagged in the next part of the following fics, please just respond to this one telling me that. Until next time👋👋

Tag List: @idkatee @eternalscribblesforthesoul @loudbluepancake @poisondevotion @scram1326

#peter parker x reader imagine #peter parker x bestfriend reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #angst #fluff #smut #crying #reader angst #mj #peter parker x mj #michelle jones

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candycoloredwolf · 3 years

Text

Some Blitzo x Striker Smut for @iriso-page Hope you like!

The night air was silent, save for the gentle chirp of crickets and the heavy panting from a certain imp. It was odd. He had grown so used to the bustling noise of Imp city, that hearing nothing but his own breath was almost put him on edge.

That and the fact that this was his first time bottoming for anyone. Well, technically still topping, as he was quite literally on top of the handsome farmhand, but still.

"Gettin tired already?"

The deep, sultry southern voice caught Blitzo off guard, leaving him dazed for a moment. He looked down to Striker, who despite having his entire length inside Blitz, managed to keep a confident and flirtatious smirk on his face.

"Wh-... Me? Tired? Fuck no! Do I look like some horny virgin who's out after one fuck?" Blitzo chuckled. He had tried to hide the anxious tone in his voice, but all it took was a slight eyebrow raise from Striker to tell him he wasn't doing a very good job at it.

He averted his gaze, trying to come up with some kind of excuse for how nervous he was. Before he could, he felt a clawed hand gently tilt his head up, forcing him to gaze into those piercing yellow eyes.

"Ya gotta relax, darlin. Can't exactly pleasure ya when ya clamped around my dick like a bear trap." Blitzo felt a heated blush spread across his whole face. He hadn't realized quite how much of a death grip he had around Striker until now.

Fuck, this was pathetic! Hed done this satan knows how many times, why the fuck couldn't he just relax! He was about say fuck it and spare any dignity he had left, when he felt a hand press into his back, massaging gentle circles just below his spines.

Striker propped himself up with his free hand, leaning closer to Blitz. "Easy now." He assured, breath hot against Blitz's neck. It burned in the best way possibly, like straight whiskey from a shot glass. Blitzo shuddered, feeling his muscles relax almost instantly as he leaned against Strikers chest. "That's it, nice and easy." Striker smirk grew as he felt Blitzo loosen around him.

After giving him a moment, Striker began to gently buck up into Blitzo, resting his head on his shoulder for leverage. The imps breath slowly turned into soft gasps as Striker picked up speed, aiming for one area in particular.

It wasn't till Blitzo let out an audible moan that he knew he found it. "Found your sweet spot, did I?" He teased, not moving an inch so as to not lose the pocket of nerves. Blitzo nodded, biting his lip hard as he held back another moan. His dick throbbed with pleasure, all anxiety melting away with that single touch. "Come on now, lemme hear how much you like it." Striker purred, grazing Blitz's shoulder with his sharp fangs. It only took Striker brushing the area again for Blitzo to gasp out a few pleasure filled curses.

"Fuck you feel amazing." Blitzo purred, clutching Striker's shirt as though he was about to fall into the next ring of hell. He didn't even notice he'd started grinding against Striker, hoping to feel the same pleasure shoot through his body like electricity again. Striker chuckled, moving the hand he'd positioned on Blitzos back down to hold the imps hips in place. "Hey, you just let ol Striker do the work, okay now?" He chuckled, more as an order than a suggestion. Blitzo whined slightly at the denial, but nodded, burying his face in Strikers bandana.

The farmhand shifted slightly, making sure to angle for the same spot that made the city imp sing like before. He must've had a damn good aim, cause with one thrust he heard Blitzo stifle a breathy moan into his shirt. Satisfied with the reaction, Striker started a slow and steady rhythm, planning each thrust to hit Blitz's spot just as he came down from the pleasure of the last one.

The city imp moaned and cursed in ecstasy as he dug his nails into Strikers shirt, trying desperately to hold back the heat he felt growing in his groin. He didn't want this to end yet, especially not before Striker was close. "S- Stri-'' Blitzo stuttered, words falling from his mouth like the precum that leaked from his tip. Striker barely glanced at Blitz before moving his free hand down, quickly pumping the imps dick in rhythm with his thrusts. It only took a few pumps to push Blitz over the edge, the imp groaning loudly as cum sprayed across both their chests.

He didn't know how long the numbing pleasure lasted, but by the time he could make sense of things, he could tell Striker came not long after him, as the farmhand was still lost in the sensation, the arm that had been holding both of them up beginning to shake with fatigue. Despite Blitz still feeling only half conscious, he adjusted slightly to take his weight off Striker, supporting him with one arm till he came down from the high.

As Striker lowered himself, Blitz took the opportunity to nuzzle close, tails intertwining as they basked in the afterglow. "So," Striker shifted, one arm wrapping around Blitzos waist. "Was I better than that pompous owl overlord?" Blitz chuckled weakly, still catching his breath. "Do hellhorses bite?" He teased with a smirk.

#nsfvv #Good god i havent writen smut in years #Lemme know how i did rhis was actually pretty fun to write #striker x blitzo #helluva boss

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hotdamnhunnam · 3 years

Text

Louder, Bitch

A/N: So for those who liked Fuck You Better, I think this makes a great sequel to that fic! (But it can also be read as a standalone.) Based on the below request – in which Jax wants you to be loud during sex, to let everyone know just how good you’re getting fucked 😏 Note: As mentioned in some of my recent posts, my plan is to alternate posting fics like this, from my Main Request List, with fics for my 500 Followers Kinkfest!

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, rough sex, super loud sex, in the kitchen, with an audience (listening but not actually watching), dom!Jax Request: This awesome anon request!

Word Count: ~1.8k

“Can’t we just go to your place?” you beg.

“Babe, we’ve already fucked a hundred times on every surface,” Jax reminds you as he drives his bike up to the front of your apartment complex. You two have only been officially together for a few days, but it’s true. “Need to stake my claim to you on your turf, too.”

The Harley pulls up to a stop; you groan, reluctant to step off. “Ugh—fine, just go ahead and talk about me like a piece of meat you own. I guess that’s nothing new...”

“Well, you sure seem to dig it when I fuck you like one,” Jackson taunts, smirking since he can tell those words set fire to your cunt. He takes off your helmet, offsetting the filth with a softhearted kiss on your forehead. “Love you.”

Teasing aside, the real reason you’re stopping by is to pick up a few things you need from your apartment. You haven’t set foot back here ever since Jax Teller claimed you as his girlfriend. Been avoiding this place like the plague, ‘cause a certain somebody—your ex-fuckbuddy—just happens to be your damn roommate.

You just pray that he’s not home today, as you head up the few flights of stairs to your floor.

“Still can’t believe you share an address with your ex,” Jax says as you quietly open the door. “This place stinks of unsatisfying sex.”

“You know he’s not really my ex, Jax. Was never my boyfriend. We just shared the rent, and hooked up now and then because it was convenient,” you mutter as you step in, feeling Jax groping your ass with eager hands. Just hoping desperately the other man’s not home to witness what’s about to happen... “Luckily the lease is up this weekend. Then we can—”

But Jax has no patience to let you finish that sentence. Slams the door shut behind him as he shoves you up against the wall and kisses you so hard that you’re incapable of speaking. You probably won’t ever see straight again.

“That’s my girl. Such a sweet little piece of meat,” he snarls, the force of his hunger and heat pushing you down the hall, toward the nearest surface where you used to eat. You try to protest that your ‘ex’ might be home, in the very next room... but Jax just doesn’t seem to care at all. “Quit your bitchin’. Think you need a good hard pounding in the kitchen.”

***************

Ten seconds later, your man has you screaming so loud that you’re bound to be getting complaints from the neighbors.

The whole town of Charming can probably hear. Thankfully it appears that your roommate’s not here, as you notice his keys are absent from the spot where he typically keeps them, whenever he’s in...

Of course Jax took note of the fact you were distracted for a second, checking for your ex’s keys. He isn’t pleased. Your wholehearted focus on him during sex is the one thing he always demands, fucking needs. Pulls at your pants with forceful hands, yanking them further down your knees, spanking your ass as he drives his enormous cock into your soaking wet heat.

Jax has you bent over the cold kitchen counter. Manhandling you like a damn piece of meat, taking you from behind in a pure show of alpha male power. And every delicious thrust into your tight pussy has you screaming even louder.

Apparently not loud enough. Jax knows you like it rough. Leans down to growl pure filth into your ear, pushing your shirt up so your bare skin rubs against the rugged leather of his kutte, calling you his dirty little girl and nasty fucking slut. Ordering you to make even more noise, which happens inevitably as your body reacts to the force of his touch and his gruff, raspy voice.

He knows this is exactly what you love. What the slut deep inside you enjoys. Getting used like his fucktoy, completely destroyed. And he loves when your screams make that clear, for the whole town to hear.

The whole town—literally everybody—and... oh shit. Suddenly there’s a sound at the door, in this moment, which you somehow notice, while you’re busy moaning like a fucking whore. The door just opened, you’re pretty sure. And it must be your goddamn ex-fuckbuddy.

Though you don’t give much of a shit what he thinks, still it just seems insulting and embarrassing, to have the guy walk in and watch and listen, while Jax hammers you to pieces in the kitchen. To have him actually hear and see you getting fucked so rough and slutty...

“J-Jax—” you gasp.

But Jax just deals your ass another brutal slap, grabbing a fistful of your hair to make you arch your back, and laughing in your ear now as he hears your breathing hitch and feels your pussy twitch.

Then he just says two words that make you want to fucking burst. His dominance feels so damn good it hurts. “Louder, bitch.”

That’s all it takes, for all your dignity and self-restraint to swiftly fade away. For you to do exactly as he says. To give in to your purpose to submit and to obey, always, while Jax keeps punishing your pussy till it breaks.

“Fuck—Jax...” you moan, as he pulls your hair firmly back, pushes his cock in farther, spanks you harder, treats you to the pleasure that only Jax Teller can give. Jax alone. For as long as you live. Reminding you and your ex and everyone else that you are his to own.

Much of the noise that you’re making is just shouts and screams, grunts and groans. Like the soundtrack to some raunchy porno. Which Jax fucking loves. Says the sounds that you make are the stuff of wet dreams. He gets off on this stuff. Hearing you come undone as you burst at the seams, barely able to form words as you let your inner whore go.

But you know this dirty motherfucker is also a sucker for dirty talk—hearing his girl use her words to praise his big, beautiful, powerful, perfect cock. Gushing about how he gives you such pleasure, how nobody could fuck you better. Ever since you and Jax got together, you’ve been showering him with praises like that quite a lot, and it gets him so hot.

So today’s no exception. You somehow form words to effuse about how your new boyfriend is literal sex god perfection.

“Oh my God, your cock—holy fuck... so good... ugh, yeah just like that, Jax—just fuck me like I’m nothing but your filthy little slut... God, you’re so hot... so big—so fucking big... holy shit—Jax, I live for your dick...”

It’s not as if your former fuckbuddy was small—no, not at all—but, well... compared to Jax, every man is. So you’re just being honest, even if it sounds mean as hell. It’s not your intention to be mean about it, but now that you have Jax’s dick... you just can’t live without it. And Jax wants your ex and the whole world to know that, so nobody will ever doubt it.

Surely by now, there is no fucking doubt. Not when you’re being so fucking loud.

This whole time your ex seems to have stayed in the foyer, clearly within earshot but out of the way. Not so close as to actually witness.

You may not be mean-spirited... but Jax is. Just a little bit. He and your ‘ex’ have just a little bit of history, a little bit of business.

So between the dirty words that he relentlessly growls down into your ear, you hear him call out to the man who’d walked in unannounced. “Bet you fucking miss this!”

It’s a proud, territorial, alpha male shout. With a sick, savage smirk of a smile. Jax Teller’s classic style. And all the while, he keeps on ferociously fucking your brains out, right here in the other man’s house.

As his cock keeps on pounding you into the counter, the both of you keep shouting louder and louder...

And soon the front door just slams shut. Your ex-fuckbuddy clearly had heard quite enough. Feels no need to stay here and listen, while somebody hotter and bigger and better—Jackson Fucking Teller: the only man you’ll ever want, ever love—ravages your tight wet cunt in this kitchen. His kitchen. All filthy and rough. Making sure the whole world knows that you are his slut.

Jax stakes his final claim, by filling you up with his thick hot cum as you repeatedly, heatedly scream out his name. Keeping his massive dick inside you as he leans down over your trembling body to engulf you in the warmth of his kutte, in the glow of his love. Kisses tender and soft, to help ease you down from how explosively you both just came.

So that just happened, on the kitchen counter here in this apartment, for which you and your ‘ex’ are still both paying rent... and you seriously have no fucking shame. Just to please your man, you would honestly do it all over again.

Jax seems to read your mind, still buried deep inside you from behind. “Damn. Babe, that was awesome,” he sighs as he traces the sex-hazy smile on your lips with the tip of his thumb. “So, um... you said the lease is up this weekend?”

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, your senses still totally buzzing and numb. Struck dumb, from being so full of his cum, and just how much you love him.

“Guess that leaves just a few dozen other surfaces for us to get our freak on,” he muses aloud, taking stock of the territory that he has to conquer by the weekend. “You know I gotta stake my claim before your pretty ass officially moves out.”

Can’t help but laugh, though laughing hurts when he just fucked your cunt in half. But it’s so worth it. Fucking perfect. Pain is pleasure, with Jax Teller. “What, you got some kind of kink for fucking me in my own house...?” you ask although you know the answer. Your badass biker boyfriend is a territorial alpha male bastard.

“Hey—this is my house now,” he claims, playful yet seriously proud. Picking you up and then spreading you out across the dining room table like a piece of meat for him to fucking eat. Already all set for a second round. “Let’s give the neighbors something to complain about...”

Oh, yes sir, you think in silence as he throws you down, ready for yet another round of perfectly painful pleasure, as your man goes to town and fucks your goddamn brains out.

Jax Teller has only one order, as he settles in to fuck you even harder. As if there was ever a doubt. “Bitch, better be fucking loud.”

***************

Hope you enjoyed this! As always, would love to hear if you did! 🤗❤️

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fictional-thoughts · 4 years

Text

Poisoned

the mandalorian x fem!reader

warnings: smut, rough messy sex, slight dom/sub elements, sex pollen (dub/con), language, breath-play, fingering, one (1) spank

words: 6k+

a/n: this is genuinely the smuttiest thing i’ve ever written...enjoy

The Mandalorian is walking too fast, he’s gaining speed, leaving her behind in the foggy dark green forest. She’s desperately trying to keep up but her body’s seizing up and trembling and soaked in sweat. His cloak sways behind him and she’s try to not feel dizzy as the tanned colour of it clouds her blurry vision; but the planet is spinning in time with her twisting nerves and white hot muscles.

He’s clumsy, ducking under banches almost too late and his boots catch on thick veiny vines that litter the forest floor. The air smells damp and of pollen, of fluorescent flowers, dripping their sickly sweet scents and luring their prey. Deathly and dark violet the bulbous and puffy flowers hang in thick bunches, taunting the bounty hunter, teasing him with their lavender faces.

He should have known something was wrong. It was too silent. Too dark.

“Wait, wait,” she’s sweating under the thick and flexible armour, it feels as if there’s a million suns spanning the vast sky above her, burning down in fury from the gods. Skins slicked and her underclothes are sticking uncomfortably, melting to her frame. Her hairs a mess, damp and knotted and frizzy with humidity. “Damn it, Mando — somethings wrong.”

Mando nearly freezes in his tracks at her words voice high and broken; fuck, he knew it. She’s got it too, she has be feeling the same, weakened, chest constricted, halting breath in the lungs and skin burning like a forest fire, tongue parched and dry in the mouth, it’s death but only slower.

“What did you say?”

She coughs. The pit of her stomach is pulling towards an unseeable object, ripping through muscles in curling motions, thighs and hands trembling. The forest is so dark and bushy and green and lush she’s having trouble telling what is in front of her, eyes bleary and blinking in and out.

She hears the Mandalorian speak and nearly crash into the brushes under her heavy boots, the hot curls of pain unfurl inside her, a caged animal, clawing to be free and rid of her wretched body.

Something is really wrong.

Her hands find a mossy tree trunk and she’s barely keeping herself up, she’s holding her head in her shaking hand and has got her eyes screwed shut to block out the sight of the Mandalorian pushing his way back through the trees to get back to her, his long rifle catching on the vines and boots thumbing on the ground that seems to sway, a gentle and giant seesaw of lush greenness is the planet, twisting into a thousand vines.

He’s getting closer and it’s all she can do but not scream. Don’t, don’t come any closer.

“You okay?” He grips her forearm tight in his gloved hand and her skin erupts in goosebumps, prickling her skin with an override of electricity. Her mouth drops open as a thousand fluttering beings swarm inside her stomach as he’s connected to her.

“Don’t touch me,” she’s frantic and he’s pulling away from her, his gloved hands raised, almost in defence. Her own clammy hands are pulling at the thick straps and buckles of her armour, it’s too tight and she can’t breathe.

The Mandalorians mind is racing, thinking back to every single second they they’ve been on the godforsaken planet, it’s a slipping of details, they’re all a blur, pieces fell where they shouldn’t be and he’s so confused, why can’t he remember what happened to them? Why does it seem to be affecting her more then it is him?

Then he realizes.

The Mandalorian growls a soft swear, “shit,” and she whips her head to look at him, pupils dilated and forehead glazed with a sheen of sweat, she’s a breathtaking disaster.

“What?”

“This is your fault.” He’s harsh, condescending. He angrily snaps his rifle over his shoulder to free up his movements, he’s handling the weapon roughly and she’s watching with slight awe. Every second he’s in hot pain, it’s pulling him closer to her every second and now he’s absolutely certain. “Now —” he tries to explain but she’s already lashing out in that bright red anger.

“You bastard, how is this my fault?” She stumbles and nearly falls but catches herself with some dignity, ignoring the Mandalorians hand moving to help her, if need be. Her raised voice causes his chest to lurch and he’s trying not to look directly at her. He’s now absolutely certian and trying to remain calm.

They’d been wandering through the thick forest, stepping through shallow streams and climbing over moss covered rocks protruding from the planets crust. She’d been walking along, weapons slung across her chest, just absolutely entranced by the canopy of violet flowers that hung in thick and heavy looking bunches over their heads; the red suns of this planets atmosphere did their best to shine through the long winding leaves of the plants, but as the bounty hunters continued on, the darker their surroundings became.

She was ignoring the Mandalorian, angry at him once again for getting them lost, but his argument in retaliation was she had simply forgotten to pack the ships tracker back at base. Packed into a steaming argument she then proceeded to send him surly glares and refuse to speak.

The Mandalorian didn’t mind much, he liked the quiet, and quite honestly, he enjoyed it more when he knew she weren’t going to start speaking. He’d never been much of a talker, but going on this mission with a fellow (amateur) hounty hunter, he’s been forced to converse, pleasantly or not.

They had been walking under the flowers for ages, time didn’t exist there, a loop of the hours that dragged on forever. Then that is where everything was her fault.

She touched a small fluorescent flower, curled her slim fingers around the velvety petal she smoothed skin of the plant under her palm and turned to examine the bright pollen covering her flesh.

She caught his gaze for a moment, a hazed over kind of glint in her eyes, then looked down at her pollen covered hand, then back at the innocent looking plant, a light violet powder covered her hand, and imprinted on the large petals was her very handprint.

“It’s just a plant. We should keep moving.” He turned and strode away, pushing down the idea that she had looked beautiful, surrounded by soft colours, it was different than her usual aesthetic. She only smiled, her frustration melted away, and brushed the rest of the pollen from her palm, together they watched it soak into the air, soft and aesthetic it slid between the panels of sunlight that peeked through.

The faces of flowers watched the hunters leave the forest; poisoned and deadly.

“You gotta be fucking kidding. Fuck.” The Mandalorian sighs deeply and he’s trying not to stare as she’s stripping from her metallic armour, her hurried fingers untying the laced up straps of her chest piece he’s kneeling down and helping her before she can yell at him. His gloved hands graze the skin of her collarbone exposed between the laces of her white undershirt and she’s whimpering.

She can’t strip right here. He’s not sure what will happen if she does. “Stop.”

“I said don’t fucking touch me,” she’s pushing him away and glaring, dark and deep.

“Do you know what that was?” He’s cooled down, thinking of what to do, that pulsing and burning need is brimming within his chest, begging and a slur of sinful thoughts seep into his mind. “The flowers?”

She’s sunk down to the brushy forest floor amongst the fluffy ferns and little white dotted flowers with red cheeked and filled with fierce bemusement she answers him. “The hell should I know.”

His shoulders droop with his heavy sigh and he’s scanning the trees around them, wondering if it’s the pollen affecting his sight too or if the wooded plants really do look as if they are bending over them, creaking and contorting into an arch as if to protect the two hunters, watch over them. “I’ve heard of these before, and this has to be it — why you’re in pain.”

The Mandalorian makes no comment of his own deplorment, controling desire morphed into threads of pain. He’s keeping it under wraps but having her so close to him, so bare and soft, as much as she exists to him as an enemy rather than one he’s thought of in such a way its throwing his attention askew.

“I’m not in pain,” she’s snapping at him again, short words and a steely tone she’s already turning a cold shoulder, never accepting the fact that she’s not immortal.

Inwardly she knows she’s lying, but it’s a half lie, she’s in pain but it’s a familiar feeling, the warmth pooling inside her, trembling hands and thighs, she can just feel the dampness at her core, hot and slick she’s absolutely soaked.

“I’m just —” she cant string the words together, looking up at the stern Mandalorian she’s fighting back the urge, the longing and pathetic urge to crawl into his lap and have him fuck her till she can’t breathe; to sink himself deep inside her with a hand around her neck and to just fuck her senseless.

“I know.”

They’re back at the ship, the night air is cold and there are few stars alive in the sky. The Mandalorian and her are only feet apart, he’s across from her in his chair, back straight and unmoving, facing the dash. She’s sitting on the ground with her back against the rough cooling wall, the metal grated floor is hard and her ass is sore but if she’s sitting anywhere else she’s close to the Mandalorian and she can’t have that.

WInd howls outside and the huge trees sway in the darkness outside the Mandalorians ship.

She’s got her eyes closed, jawline accented in the semi darkness she’s leaning back to the wall, bottom lip caught under her teeth she’s biting down harshly and tapping her foot in an anxious beat as sweat drops past her sternum and slides over her skin between her breasts, she feels every milimeter of her skin crawl and its rolling in waves, the slick and pushing arousal, its sliding under her skin and got its grip on her chest so tight shes stripped her shirt off.

Her forgotten armour and boots lay in the middle of the open space within the ship.

This isnt ending soon.

The Mandalorian watching his fist curl and uncurl, the wrinkles of the leather gloves he’s wearing bend and fade, he’s unfocused and can only think of her, she’s ten feet away and hasn’t spoken to him since they made it back to his ship. He’s thinking of how she uttered a moan as he brushed her lower back, her eyes closing, slipping into a world where the affects of the pollen are taken care of.

He’s wondering just how long the effects last when the she speaks up, her voice hoarse and taunt in her lungs. “How the hell is this not having any effect on you?” His fist clench one last time and he’s shifting in his chair, through the visor his eyes close momentairly, pondering of what to say.

“I never said it wasn’t.”

For all the wrong reasons heat pools within her core at the Mandalorians tender voice, smooth and rich its all she can do but imagine how he sounds next to her ear, telling her how good she feels around him, how wet and tight. “You feel this too?”

He doesn’t answer. He’s still blaming her, still wrapped in the idea she’s at fault. How could she have known? In turn, he was at fault as well, getting them lost and failing to recall the deadly flowers.

Then she’s saying something he’d never expect.

“I’m so sorry,” she’s muttering, rubbing the heals of her hands into her eyes, blurring her vision — childlike, innocent. “This is all my fault,” grimacing, she moves her legs to be more comfortable. “It hurts,”

An apology. In the moment the Mandalorian finds it amusing that it takes fucked up pollen fever to force her to apologize for something.

The Mandalorians chest is pinched, painful, and he sighs deeply, she sounds so wrecked, her voice soft, weak. He hears her shifting on the floor and his ears ring witht he rustle of clothing — everything is sensitive. “I know,” he says her name in the short sentence and she’s whimpering in reply.

They could be anywhere, planets away, flying past suns and stars, holed up in dingy towns or broken cities — no, they’re ten feet apart and both have managed to inhale sex pollen straight from the deadly plant itself.

“Mando,” she whimpers again, sliding her hands down her torso, her palms press over her nipples and her back arches; she’s forgetting her hatred for the Mandalorian, letting his annoyance to her everyday life slip from her mind — she’s opened her eyes and he’s there, standing, the shadows curved around him you can only see the outline of his form. Her eyes linger on his arms, his now bare hands and the warmth tugs somewhere deep inside her.

Eyes darkened and filled with a lingering prederatory hilt, she’s pulling herself to her feet, the Mandalorians watching her, a warrior, torn and wrecked, chapped pink parted lips and lashes fluttering over her bright eyes — unstoppable, seductive. He’d be lying if he said he’d never thought about her beyond the dealings of companionship, of partners in they crimes they commit.

“We gotta do something about this, Mando.” Its killing her, she’s sure of it. Her eyes break into his beskar, drag over his bulky body.

“There’s nothing... we just wait it out.”

“I can’t,”

“I don’t care.” He’s back to cruel words in the place of his longing rule the flood of things he wants to say, to bend close to your ear and whisper. Fuck me.

She’s stalking closer to him, wetting her lip with her tounge its only moments before something has to happen, its damp and rushed in the hazy red lights inside the ship, they’re furious and watching the Bounty Hunters below.

“I hate you, you know that?” Her words are dripping burning silk — she’s never hated him. And thats her immortal demise, a secret, tucked away in her heart.

“Feelings mutual.” He turns his head to stare into her eyes, her widened and starlike eyes. His own dark eyes trail down past her collarbone and land on her breasts nearly pushed from her tight covering, rising ad falling in time with her breaths. His hands ich to just touch.

She purrs. “We can hate eachother,” she’s stepped closer to him and he’s not moving, allowing her to invade all idea of personal space she’s so close he can smell her. She seems to forget where she was going with her sentence, looking up at him its like she sees right through him.

“Can we?” His voice breaks through the mask. She chews on the idea, wonders what kind of pretty words it would take to get him to fuck her. Her cunts soaked and throbbing, the push of the material of her pants aren’t helping.

“Have you ever been with anyone?”

There it is.

“Dont ask stupid questions.” He’s turning away but she’s got a hold of his arm, her warm hand in contact with his is taking ridiculous affect, lurching up and and through his chest the Mandalorians heart is in his throat. “We cant,”

He’s thinking it too.

“Its not wrong,” she’s sliding her hand down to slip her fingers through his, stiring up the growing fire. Its hot and heavy, weighs him down. “Mando, please,” she’s begging, caught on whimpers she’s breathing heavier and heavier. The Mandalorin pulls his hand from her grip, raises it and he’s brushing a forlorn tear from her cheek.

Please. “I can’t stop it,”

He’s slowly going insane, at the touch of her skin something within him snaps and he’s pulling her close, pushing her to the wall of the ships interior, his arms trapping her in. Their breaths match, and she’s so close to him, her eyes softening her mouth opens to beg, of pathetic desperation and drunk on the flowers bitter poison. The Mandalorian stops her, a bare hand agaisnt her mouth he’s silenced her. The touch of their burning skin nearly has her dropping to her knees. She looks into the visor of the hemlet and searches of emotion, a flicker of life behind the face of a machine.

The Mandalorians body is pressed to hers, compact, brimming with the poisonous affections, they’re drowning in the stuff. She shudders in his grasp, the mix of metal and weapons, of leather and the soft material of his shirt, its all too much, burning and keeping her of air its not enough.

He’s looking away from her, forcing himself to keep his cool. Its a rippling fire, lurching and spreading as if alive, the thick coils are heavy. Mando tempts a movement, his cock hard against her and it’s so good — she whines info his hand, her leg slinking up his own, trapping him closer.

“You really don’t know what you do to me, huh?” The Mandalorian’s rough, distracted, caught in grinding out as much friction against her as he can, chasing away the clouding thoughts, screaming at him that everything is wrong.

But those fade, sink into pure silence when her free hand slides up his wrist, nails dug into his skin, she’s pulling his hand away from her lips, her heavy lidded eyes dance with seduction. He’s watching her turn his hand, help him cup her jaw, half spread over the side of her throat, his thumb glides over her lip, she’s turning her head, leaning into his grasp she’s taking the digit between her wet pursed lips, sucking, biting down.

Fuck.

“Please Mando,” hoarse voice in his ears and shooting a pool of warmth straight through him. She’s sinking into the wall, dark eyes pouring into him. Desperate. Longing. “What, you want me to beg?”

Mando freezes. A growl pushes its way through his chest. “No,” she’s ruining him, breaking him apart by the seams. Her brows knitted, eyes wide, pleading. A selfish, dark part of the Mandalorian wants to force her to her knees, maybe turn her front to the wall, press deep into her and fuck the burning urges away.

Her tones smooth and sinking into his skin, drugging him. “Wanna watch me get off? Maybe that’s what you’d like, Mando?”

She pushes him back, forcing stumbling steps, using what’s left of her strength. It’s wickedly wrong, she needs him so bad it hurts. She wants to drop to her knees, taste his cock on her tongue, strip the beskar off, drag her nails down his skin, make him moan her name.

Her words are nearly fucking unbearable. The burning sexual tension hangs in the air, choking them. The ships inside is warm and sticky, her half bare body is covered in sweat, her skin flushed and eyes dark, she matches what earthquakes seem and what passion wishes it could be.

The last dregs of self control fade, his minds hazy with greed and the absence of her burning fever touch has him desperate.

“Get on the floor.”

Quiet. Commanding. She’s obeying instantly and sinks to the floor of his ship, grated metal digging into her flesh, the ground is filthy and gritty and she’s biting back harsh words, only for the moment, thick and heavy need is in place of hatred. Her poisoned gaze burns into him, watching him pull away weapons and leather, heavy cloak and chunks of beskar — not all all of it though.

He’s over her, burning touch that’s melting to her skin. She falls into a moan, her stomach tense with arousal, spreading through her body, following his hands. “Fuck you need to touch me,” everything is begging her to delve into him, rip apart from their restraining history, make amends and build up something new, something in which he can fuck her and hate her at the same time.

And maybe he is.

Through the visor of his helmet, glitching into view, her body spread and displayed, his core deepens, eating him from the inside. Mando pulls her to his lap, her cunt right over his centre, throbbing over his cock. A hot moan drips from the helmet, he closes he eyes, letting her move against him, spine arched beautifully; Mando slides an arm around the small of her back, keeping her close with a spread hand. The other gropes her chest, further pulling down the tight material covering her tits.

“I need—” a whimper slides over her lips, her hands settle over his broad shoulders, drag him closer. “I need something...your hands — fuck — your lips on me.”

“You’re not getting that.” He promises, his helmets not coming off, he’s barely taken any armour off — and she’s bare over him, albeit tight underclothes. His hand slides down her skin, past her navel and dip down past her underclothes, shoving them aside. She gasps loudly, releasing her breath in a shaking moan as his fingertips brush her softness.

That aching pull, it’s deepening and she’ll surely run out of breath before the Mandalorian can properly touch her. She’s forgotten it’s not affected him as much as her — not that it matters, he’s got his hand on her cunt and his dick is hard and thick under her. “Please, oh my god.”

The helmet tilts, the coolness brushing her skin. He’s watching her, arched into his grasp, silently begging for anything. Then he’s curled two fingers into her, gathered in slick and crooked just right and she shrieks, shatters over him. Blood red lips and wild eyes, she’s moving, urging him to fuck her through the drug, bring the heavyness to an end. Its not enough.

She’s falling back, legs untanged with his, she’s gripping him and pulling him close, collasping onto the floor, his hand leaves her for a moment, tugging an empty ache back into her gut. “No, no --” she’s whimpering, “please keep going.”

His hand pushes the mess of hair from her face, looking right into her wretched eyes. Through the rush and anger, he feels a bit of softness, a bit of longing mixed with a likeness, she must be well under the drug, for she’s never been one to beg just that much. His bare hands slide back over her body, dipping past her hipbones and blunt nails dragging down her thighs. Her cunt glistens, Mandos caught in wondering just how she’d taste on his tongue, his head between her thighs, tight around his ears.

“Mando,”

The helmet tilts again and she catches a glimpse of skin, tan under the material and beskar. It’s the column of his throat, leading down where his collarbone would be. The sight sends her into fresh, delicious delirium.

“You need me to fuck you.” He’s buying time, seeing how far she can stretch, the looks of her all soft and longing is turning him on a little too much. It’s not the girl she normally is.

Half a sob curls up, painfully pushing at her throat. She needs him so bad. “Isn’t that fucking obvious.”

There she is.

Without warning he’s over her and his hand on her cunt, two fingers sunk deep in her wetness, pulling her into a painful arch from the grated flooring. She shakes, her hand finds his shoulder and grips tight, nails nearly digging into the thick material of his shirt. Living vicariously through the feeling of his fingers in her cunt, he’s back to thinking just how she’s taste, how she’d writhe and shiver under his tongue. The thoughts are burning through him and his dick is painfully hard — her thigh brushes him and he nearly comes right there.

He’s fucking her slowly, roughly; thumb brushing her clit through the plush wetness of her cunt, she biting down on moans and quivering, lithe in his grasp. “Mando please, I need —” she’s got her eyes squeezed shut, rolling through another wave of wanton poison, it’s bleeding into every nerve.

“I know what you need,” he’s got her. His voice soothes her, his rough hands pull her thigh up, three fingers slathered in her dripping elixir, they’re flat to her clit and pushing in short circles. His touch is chasing away the heat in her skin, derived under influences of lust, she’s collapsing under thick waves of it. She needs his hands, his lips his dick — anything. What the Mandalorian is doing is not enough.

“Mando, just shut up, please —” the slip of his fingers on her clit is sloppy, pressing hard and soaked in her honey. “I need something.” It still hurts, the pollens clamped itself inside her system, taking ahold of her hot muscles, her running heart and flushed skin.

He’s got her pinned, ragged sounds tear from him, the helmets speakers crackle with his breath. Mandos hovered above her, ire trained on her face, down her chest to her breasts rising and falling, pert nipples and soft curves. She’s so damn soft, angelic in a ruined sort of way. Mando groans, her hands found his cock, palming through the fabric.

“Take of the mask,” she’s panting, her free hand leaves his shoulder and slides down the metal, right where she imagined his cheekbone would be. His movements slow. “Wanna have your fucking mouth on me.”

“Helmet stays on.” He’s pulled her closer, sinking down to cover her bare body with his metallic and leather clad one, his right hand digs under her thigh, raises it to his side, slim fingers gripping her pretty curves. She’s frustrated, all that hate and anger comes back in droves, her hand leaves his cock, much to her displeasure and leaves him chasing the feel of it, she’s temping him, fueling a spark of anger.

“I don’t care.” She hisses, eyes scathingly dark.

Smack! His hand slaps the outside of her thigh, burning the skin a deeper colour and bringing a cry of surprise to the edge of her breath. Fuck, the spank shot the air from her lungs, swollen lips parted but not a noise leaves them.

The sudden sting and roughness of it was painful — she wants it again. Her cunts tight around nothing and she’s pulled on an edge.

“Could blindfold you,” the voice through the helmet is deep, it sends her further into an intoxicating trance. “That what you want?”

Fuck no. She’s biting her lip and pushing herself up and onto him. Her tits press to his beskar and it’s cold to her skin, covered in goosebumps and sweat, chills run rampant over her form. She whimpers, his rough hands find her cunt, dip into the warmth once again.

“I’m not putting a blindfold on, fuck that.” She’s panting, arched up to him as his fingers leave her cunt, slicked and tasting of her sweetness. She’s mewling and its not enough, she needs the real thing. She’s begging him to fuck her properly between the sounds of metal clinking, the heavy rustle of fabrics — he’s not wasting a second before he’s half torn from the beskar.

The Mandalorian smooths his bare hand over her cunt, watching her shiver — wretched art, she’s beautifully twisted. She’s palming her own breast, arching info the feeling, her body calling him, a siren luring.

Fuck it. He could do no blindfold.

“Fine,” he’s growling and grips her hips, hands dug into her skin he’s flipped her over, her chest pressed onto the dirty floor of the ship, the Mandalorian runs a hand up her smooth back, his hand curves around the back of her neck and she’s pinned down.

His free hand rips the helmet off, it clatters fo the floor beside her, the empty metal visor staring, watching. Basked in fresh air and the smell of sex, Mando leans over her, a large hand slides up past her tits and circles her throat. She whines and bends to his will. Mandos rough and unforgiving, a newfound freedom without the helmet has him pulling her body right to his broad chest, teeth scraping her neck, damp moans and mutters of curses fall from his hungry lips.

“Gods, gods you’re so good,” his raw and ragged tone is thick in the air, finally free of his helmet, still mysterious to her, it’s the sinking reality of just how attracted she is to him, how pathetically desperate she is, letting a man fuck her and never let her see his face; but the feel of his hardness pressed against her along with leftover leather and beskar mixed with his lips on the lobe of her ear is enough.

She wants the Mandalorian to show her how good she is. All that blinds her is pure need, flower drunk and trapped in the world of fever dreams.

Sliding her ass against him, his cock hard as fucking marble between them, she moans, ripping through another wave of arousal, she’s growing wetter by the second its evident on the inseams of her thighs, shiny and coated. The Mandalorian shoves harshly her down again, his knee knocking hers to the side, spreading her apart, bending over her his lips and teeth find her shoulder blade and between her yearnful sounds, stuck in the darkness of the fever, she’s struggling, eyes squeezed shut.

Then sliding past all that, pushing through shuddering breaths, Mando grips her tight and sinks himself into her. Its instant relief, a fall into icy rushing water and the world becomes clear again, everything is felt differently. She’s warm and wet, every inch delved deep in her cunt is pure bliss.

“Oh-h stars—” curling, tense pressure mounts within her, she’s sensitive and trembling, he’s breaking her open, it’s everything she’d been desperate for and more. She’s writhing in his grasp, tangled in pleasure, her form caved to his touch.

The Mandalorian moans, exilariated he’s pulling back only to slam himself into her again, arms supporting him he’s leaned over her, pressing messy and wet kisses to her shoulder, sinking his teeth into her soft skin he’s forcing her to cry out, to bend at his will and crave him only more. She’s stretched, a sleek feline, muscled and curved, her knees are spread and the metal of the floor is digging into her skin, its painful but she doesnt feel it in the moment.

At a loss of words, her lips part and she’s stuck, caught in thick webs of flowing pleasure, running in hot waves through her bloodstream, her nerves and bones. The Mandalorians pace is off, deep and hard, he’s sloppy and rough.

Its a race to the edge and she finds herself taunt, her thighs tremble and she’s already close, taking it hard she covers her mouth with her hand, pushing forwards as the Mandalorians movements twist into something other than, something primal and urging on what the poison called them to do.

Her body half broken under fatigue, Mando’s strong arms grip hers and gather her up, spine curved again, her ass pressed to his hipsbones, the new angles deep and he stutters his movements, head falling tight to her shoulder, resting for only a moment.

He’s fucking her harder, messier. One arm wrapped around her chest, hand clasped with hers and the other winds around her throat, forearm pressed over her chest. Fingertips pressing to the sides of her neck, he knows just what he’s doing — right amount of pressure, the slight squeeze, it’s got her gasping and hungry for adrenaline. She curled an arm back, holding the back of his head, fingers threaded through his thick hair, soft under her palm.

“Mando, fuck you’re good,” maybe it’s the drug, maybe she’s sunk under the influence, thick with lust but each show, calculated fuck against her has her wondering why they’ve never done this sooner.

He squeezes once, a warning. “Quiet,” and that’s why, she remembers, slurring thoughts mix through her foggy mind, he’s controlling, he’s rough and merciless — but it doesn’t matter now, she’s halfway to orgasm and the calling relief is so much better than her hatred for him.

She’s trembling on the edge, the Mandalorian fucks her hard and fast, chasing after release and turning the lust into something wickedly beautiful. Each hit has her breathtaking moans, a little gift to his ears, furthering his seeping arousal. She’s tight and hot around him, fucked out at a perfect angle and lashing against his grip, then it’s all blinding and his release comes from nowhere, coating and warm inside her she’s gasping at the feel, triggering her own fall from grace.

Slow and gutteral moans, shaking breaths and molten energy, they’ve fallen on the same brink of time, waves of lighting crash through her, the heavy coil snapping, evolving into sparks of rabid pleasure. She muffes shrieks into her hand. Mando’s never come harder, so unexpectedly torturous, she’s impossibly wet around him and it’s hard to keep a grip, her thighs shake. Three more leisurely thrust, deep in her cunt has him tripping through the moment, head dropping to her shoulder, teeth gritted tight, he’s a mess and it’s wrecking him.

“Fuck,” he bites down on the swear, she shivers as he pulls away, hands releasing her throat and waist she’s shaky and not able to hold herself up. Mando doesn’t speak, his mind filled with one thing.

Through the darkness of the Crest, the thick taste of sex in the air and sounds of her intoxicating whimpers, he sinks down and helps her lie back, her form shifting under him, she’s facing him in the darkness, breathing through the aftershocks. “Holy... shit,”

“Don’t move,” chasing the trembles down her ruined form, he drops between her legs once again, dangerous hands pawing at her thighs, her knees had knocked together, tensed in the throes of pleasure but Mando’s splitting them open and burrowing his head between.

She jolts back into reality, haven drifting into some kind of post orgasmic dream. His velvet tongue slides up through her cunt, finally having a taste of her, drinking all she has to offer. Wet and heavy moans shift from his lips to her slicked cunt, his whole body is pressing forwards, rebuilding the release. She’s choking on moans, the sensitivity is on the verge of pain, tipping past pleasure. The sounds of her cunt to his lips, his nose ridged against her clit, churning out a new rush, white hot and bathed in carnality.

“Yes, oh-h my gods,” her hands fumble, her form is numb to feeling, every nerve is retracting, drowning in the new burning coals and blackened skyes. It’s ruined daylight and broken stars. It’s only been seconds after the release, and another ones building. Hot tears threaten to escape, renagade and borne by exhaustion, sensitivity; and the Mandalorians not slowing down, sinking into her begs on the edge of sin, his tongue delves deep, flicking and curling around her bud.

She’s split apart, the half on verge of passing out, the other riled up, curling her leg around his shoulder, pushing him further and fuck she’s so close, pooling warmth and the rushed feeling of tightness, the burning coil taunt. Through the darkness, she’s wretched — faces of flowers coat her vision, blinking in and out, she’s lost off the world. It builds, stacking and mounting and she can’t control it. Shuddering, her spines arched and she feels chills climb the ridges of her bones — her thighs close tight, stopped by his rough hands, pushing her open but it’s too much, the fires alit and burning through her.

His mouth slants over her cunt, closing around in a wet kiss paired with slurred words, close to her slick the Mandalorians telling her to come on his tongue, that he’s got her, he’ll work her through it and then she’s suddenly shaking — pleasure rips through her form, unbearably shocked.

“Fuck, fuck, Mando —” she’s gasping and he’s addicted to her taste, sweet and sharp on his tongue, he’s breathing deep, his tongue slip against her core and he’s fucking her slowly through her release; she’s close to sobbing, the pressures releasing ever so slowly, the motions of orgasms bend and fade, twisted in her mind and body. Her hips pressed to the ground, keeping her still, large hands gripping, tight to her scalding skin.

His lips leave her, the urges come back.

The poison — cursed pollen, exchanged sinfully through their bodies, it’s not been purged, still thick in her veins and fogging her mind, she’s gasping for air as it locks into chest.

The Mandalorian feels it, somewhere deep and dark.

They’re right back at the beginning, her thighs ache and her hands feel numb, lips bitten red and skin coloured with marks, she’s an art form of desperation and need. Through the musky darkness, his hands find her body again, she’s in a daze, staring up at the red lights above them, watching them fade and glow. She floats back to the planet, back to the ship as his lips graze her neck, fresh with anew urge of ecstasy and hands smooth over her breast.

They’re going to be there for awhile.

feedback is always appreciated!

[tags / some of these are from the previous list, please tell me if you’d like to be removed or added] @x-wingwarriorbbpoe8 @fantasticwizardnerd @flipping-fan-tastic @thatoneemosithlord @dontbetricked @bamfkurt @m-is-for-mischa @otherthingsinhead @christiandior @ccordiform @darlingbravebelle @aj-2187 @boogiebunnies @charlotte-solane-writes @allihave-arememories @pedro-pascal-online @iprettybirdi @toasterking @jedi-dreea @s-v-e-l-t-e @http-user-eraser @fxcastle @titahnics @captianstartights @banana-batman @biolo-tea @raveviolet @aroseamongthestars @bitchasaurus @imconfused28 @rebelwriter95 @nyashi-kaages @bigtoughswordboy @stonertokoyami @sailorflowermoon @sleepingdeath007 @gothtechie @skys-luce-stellare @missalyssx

#din djarin #the mandalorian #mando x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian smut #pedro pascal #star wars #the mandalorian imagine #pedro pascal imagine #star wars smut #baby yoda #cara dune

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marvelsdc22 · 3 years

Text

My Neck, My Back/Santa Tell Me

Intro: Hello, lovelies!! Its been a minute since I’ve posted something that wasn’t a drabble, but now I have quite a lot of time on my hands so I’ll be able to write more!! Anyways, here is my contribution to the song challenge with @imnotasuperhero, once they’re both posted, we’ll have a small poll posted to see who you guys think won!! No feelings will be hurt!! Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy!! Merry Christmas, you filthy animals🎄🎄(and since you asked to be tagged @frostedfavesmain)

Note: Wanda and Y/N spend the night in, celebrating Christmas with one another, things get heated... Fast... This is... Pure filth, oml 🙈(based off of this song I found YEARS ago and happened to share with Vee (my dignity)

Word Count: 2625

SMUT, NO MINORS AND IF YOU DON’T LIKE THEN PLEASE DON’T READ, PLEASE AND THANK YOU!!!

While this was not your first Christmas with Wanda, you did your best to make this as special as the last one, you and Wanda had been together now for three years, engaged for a few months of that third year, you were happy and you wanted to show her just how happy you were with her, practically rolling out the red carpet for her as you set it all up, the house all decorated with your Christmas decorations you guys had set up a few weeks prior, but now you had roses on the floor and all the fairy lights on in the house, trailing the roses to your guys bed, where you were planning to leave quite the surprise for her.

All you ladies, pop your pussy like this Shake your body: Don't stop, don't miss All you ladies, pop your pussy like this Shake your body: Don't stop, don't miss Just do it, do it, do it, do it, do it now

Checking yourself one last time in the mirror, you heard the door to your guys apartment open, you guys having moved out of the compound about a year ago to get away from work when you guys could “Y/N?” You heard Wanda call, the curiosity in her tone evident as you quickly made your way over to the bed, you in your Christmas lingerie you had gotten the week before resting in the sexiest pose you could think of, hearing her heels clicking on the hardwood floor until she opened the door, her dropping the purse in her hands when she saw you strewn out on the bed “Hey, babe” you said as seductively as possible, you seeing her eyes flash red which you took as a good sign “You gonna open your present?” You teased, gesturing to yourself and having a bow on the top of your head “I’m gonna do more than that” Wanda promised, her voice deep with lust as she approached you.

Lick it good Suck this pussy just like you should Right now, lick it good Suck this pussy just like you should

When she got to you, she immediately captured your lips with hers, the song playing on your phone barely able to be heard as she kissed you, her hands roaming your body as she pinned your wrists down to the bed and straddled your lap, you releasing a groan when she pulled her lips from yours and trailed down to your neck, peppering your face with kisses before she reached her mark and bit down, making you gasp and arch up into her touch “Wanda” you groaned, biting your lip as you closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in her touches and kisses until she pulled away, pulling a whine from you as you stared up at her like a wounded puppy “Easy, moya lyubov’” she tsked, reaching over and taking the bow out of your hair.

“I need you to move up to the headboard, can you do that, pup?” She asked, looking at you and you nodded, moving yourself back until you were propped back on the mountain of pillows you guys had, her situating them to where you could be most comfortable before she grabbed some fairy lights that were hanging off the side of your headboard, feeling her take one of your wrists before slowly starting to wrap the lights around it, making your heart pound in your ears, her staring at you with lust but also concern, she wanted you comfortable more than anything and you knew she wouldn’t do anything you weren’t comfortable with, and when she saw no signs of discomfort, she went on to your other wrist, securing both to the headboard “Comfortable?” She asked, looking at you and you could do nothing but nod, her capturing your lips in a much gentler kiss than before to calm you more, she wouldn’t hurt you and you trusted her with your life.

My neck, my back Lick my pussy and my crack

First you gotta put your neck into it Don't stop, just do it, do it Then, you roll your tongue From the crack back to the front Then you suck it all till I shake and cum, n*gga Make sure I keep busting nuts, n*gga All over your face and stuff Slow head, show me so much love The best head comes from a thug The dick good: Thick, big and long Slow thumping til the crack of dawn On the X, making faces and stuff Through the night, making so much love Dead sleep when the sun comes up

Watching her through half-lidded eyes, you watched as she trailed her lips down your body, pushing whatever part of the lingerie was in her way as she went, stopping at your breasts and taking one pert nipple into her mouth, while she stimulated the other with her hand, making you gasp and pull against your restraints, the not being able to move making you even more wet since you were giving her full control of you, something you had never done with anyone else before, and boy did it feel good “Wanda” you moaned, letting your head fall back against the headboard when she switched her mouth to your other nipple, her teeth gently tugging at it and making you arch into her more “Use your words, pup” she teased, running her free hand down your stomach, to the waistband of your matching underwear you had on.

“Wanda, please” you begged, tugging on the fairy lights wrapped around your wrists “Please what?” She asked, her fingers ghosting over your core “Please fuck me, please” you begged, locking eyes with her and seeing her smirk before she tugged on your legs, you letting them fall to wherever she wanted them, tugging your underwear off and discarding them somewhere on the floor before she threw your legs over her shoulders and got comfortable between your legs “Did you clean up for me?” She asked teasingly, you crying out slightly in aggravation when you felt her breath on your core before she tsked and ran her thumb along your clit, making you shudder and drop your head back against the headboard “Good girl” she hummed, watching your expressions for a moment before diving in, seeming to go along with the song as she did.

My neck, my back Lick my pussy and my crack

After a few moments of using her tongue on you, she focused her mouth on your clit while she inserted two fingers, making you cry out “Wanda! F-Fuck” you cried, trying to arch up into her fingers and mouth, but feeling an invisible force seem to hold you down, you looking down and seeing a red tendril holding you down, meaning she was using her powers on you “N-Not fair” you groaned, gasping when she inserted another finger and did that thing with her tongue, you seeing white before cumming with a gasp of her name, her helping you through it until you went limp in her grasp.

“I’m not done with you yet, pup” Wanda said, pulling her now drenched fingers out of you and cleaning them by putting them in her mouth, making sure you were watching as she did so, effectively turning you on even more as she hummed at the taste, you entranced by her until she leaned down and pressed her lips to yours, you tasting yourself on her lips but you could honestly care less “I love you” you said when she pulled back, bringing a small smile to her face “I love you too, now hush, pet” she said, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips before she fully pulled away and went to dig in your guys closet, you watching with hungry eyes as she stripped down fully and pulled a harness on and attached one of the many dildos onto it before she turned to face you, you biting your lip as you looked her up and down “You ready for a ride?” She asked, looking at you and you nodded, making her smirk before she approached you again “We’re going to need to change your position” she said, starting to untie you from the headboard.

You might roll dubs, you might have G's But fuck that, n*gga: Get on your knees A bitch like me moans and screams Thug Misses know what I mean At the club, so fresh, so clean Hoes hate and n*ggas watching me So high in the line on green With a unit on my face, so mean I got to pick which n*gga I need Cause only thug n*ggas satisfy me You try me, I'll make you see You bitches ain't got shit on me

My neck, my back Lick my pussy and my crack

Once she had you flipped over on your knees, she tied your hands back to the headboard before stepping back to admire her work, her having taken off your lingerie and wrapped your body with some more fairy lights “That’s my girl” she praised, gently running her fingers along your back and making you shiver as she did, taking the dildo in her free hand and angling it to your face “Come on” she urged, watching as you took the dildo in your mouth and bobbed your head up and down on it “You take that cock” she said, her accent coming out more than it had in years as she tangled her fingers in your hair and helped you take the dildo deeper “Good girl” she said, biting her lip and feeling herself start to get slick just from watching you suck her off.

After a moment, she pulled you off the dildo and kissed your cheek before she lifted you up enough to lay underneath you, grasping your hip with one hand while the other angled the dildo up to your entrance before she pushed you down onto it, making you gasp and throw your head back “Wanda” you gasped, letting your head fall forward so it was resting on her shoulder “That’s my girl, come on now, move with me” she said, using her hands to help you move up and down until she was pounding into you, you not able to say anything that sounded anything like a word “W-Wanda, I-“ you said, feeling you getting to that edge and feeling her tighten her grip on your hips “Let it go, Y/N/N” Wanda whispered into your ear, that being all you needed as you felt yourself release for the second time that night, your vision going blurry for a moment from how intense your climax was before you collapsed on top of Wanda, her just holding you for as long as you needed her to.

Santa, tell me if you're really there Don't make me fall in love again if he won't be here next year Santa, tell me if he really cares 'Cause I can't give it all away if he won't be here next year

After a few moments, Wanda reached up and untied your wrists, lightly rubbing the fresh red marks apologetically and kissing both of your wrists “I’m sorry” she murmured, feeling bad for leaving marks on your wrists from the lights “For what? The mind-blowing sex we just had?” You laughed, looking at her and giving her a small smile before you kissed her gently, pushing yourself up and gasping when the dildo slipped out of you.

Scooting down her body, you removed the harness and tossed it onto the bedside table “Y/N” Wanda said when she felt you pushing her legs apart “You don’t have to” she said, knowing you were probably spent from the two orgasms she had just given you “I want to” you assured, pushing her legs apart before slowly running your tongue along her wet center, causing her to gasp and reach down, tangling her fingers in your hair as you fucked her with your tongue, making sure your nose hit her clit every time you pushed your tongue in, making your fingers heat up as you grasped her thighs before you moved your tongue to her clit.

Pushing two warm fingers into her core, you heard her gasp your name, you glancing up and seeing her head back against the pillows, her sweat slicked hair covering the pillows underneath her, nothing looked sexier than a sex induced Wanda Maximoff and nothing could change your mind “Y/N, please” she begged, you knowing just what she needed as you pushed another finger inside her and curved them in a ‘come hither’ motion, only needing a few more thrusts until she cried out your name and your face and fingers were covered in her juices, pulling back with a smirk before you took your fingers in your mouth and cleaned them off with a hum, locking eyes with her just as she did with you.

Feeling Christmas all around And I'm trying to play it cool But it's hard to focus when I see him walking 'cross the room Let It Snow is blasting out But I won't get it in the mood I'm avoiding every mistletoe until I know it's

True love that he thinks of So next Christmas I'm not all alone, boy

Santa, tell me if you're really there Don't make me fall in love again if he won't be here next year Santa, tell me if he really cares 'Cause I can't give it all away if he won't be here next year

After you both cleaned up and had a little more fun in the shower, the two of you were snuggled up in your warm bed with a Christmas movie on, Wanda laying on her back while you were half on top of her laying on your stomach with your arms wrapped around her and hers wrapped around you “I love you” you muttered, resting your chin on her chest and closing your eyes when she pushed your wet hair out of your eyes, her hair tied back in a braid “I love you too, moya lyubov’” she said, pressing a kiss to your forehead while you reached up and took her left hand, gently running your thumb over the engagement ring.

“I can’t wait to marry you” you said, smiling as you looked at the ring on her finger, the smile growing when she laced her fingers with yours “I can’t wait either, just two more months” she said, smiling at you and her having feared no one would ever love her, but then she met you and she wouldn’t change that for the world “Merry Christmas, Wanda” you said, giving her a squeeze as you got comfortable with your head on her chest “Merry Christmas, Y/N” she said, kissing your head as she wrapped her arms more securely around you, glad to have met the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

I've been down this road before Fell in love on Christmas night But on New Year's Day, I woke up and he wasn't by my side Now I need someone to hold Be my fire in the cold But it's hard to tell if this is just a fling or if it's

True love that he thinks of So next Christmas I'm not all alone, boy

Santa, tell me if you're really there Don't make me fall in love again if he won't be here next year Santa, tell me if he really cares 'Cause I can't give it all away if he won't be here next year

Oh, I wanna have him beside me, like oh-woo-oh On the 25th, by that fireplace, oh-woo-oh

Permanent Taglist: @rianncreates / @natasha-danvers / @youngandwildx7 / @hopingforbarnes / @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

Marvel Taglist: @thanossexual

Female Marvel Characters: @imnotasuperhero

End Note: I hope you guys enjoyed!! If you’d like to be added to a Taglist, shoot me an Ask or a DM!! Have a good day/night!! And look out for Vee’s entry!! :)

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #marvel x reader #marvel #smut #song challenge

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pfreadsandwrites · 4 years

Text

Kakashi NSFW Alphabet

18+ CONTENT AHEAD - NO MINORS - ANY MINORS CAUGHT INTERACTING WITH THIS POST WILL BE BLOCKED

Okay, attempt 2 - That’ll teach me to try ever posting from the mobile app. This is a rewrite from scratch and I’m way too tired to reread and see if it makes sense or if there are typos, it’s probably not a good thing this is longer than the original though.

No one asked for this, no one at all, and I know everyone’s done these but hey, it’s Kinktober, and you can never have too many Kakashi headcanons, right? Right? Right. I hope you enjoy these!! Goes without saying that these’ll be smutty. It’s also about 6.4k words. There is some real filth ahead, very nsfw, seriously, the thirst is so real. (I hate myself), so, this is 18+ only!

Also, I'm tagging @allthingskakashi because she asked me to (i really hope these aren’t disappointing)

Side note: This is all written from the view of an established relationship. I can kinda remember most of what I said, so these will be still be very long despite being a rewrite from scratch. Apologies for any rambles and tangents I might go on, since I was rewriting this, my brain got weird and tired, but I wanna take you through my thoughts. I’m also very concerned about keeping things in character and not self-indulgent/self-projecting of what the writer’s personally into so I won’t be doing that here... You’ll see what I mean as I go on. But I still wanna make it hot so i’ll try lol. I’m new to writing but I’m even newer to writing dirty stuff so i’ll try my best. And with this post goes my dignity

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Straight after sex is one of the rare times where Kakashi feels completely at ease and relaxed. He’s pensive, often quietly mulling over what you two have just been doing and trying to come to grips with it, his hands gently running through your hair or along your back. He’s probably at his most affectionate here too. Expect gentle, lazy caresses, little kisses here and there, soft, easy conversation. He might not always be the most talkative, but post-coitus is where you’ll most likely hear him say something earnest and romantic compared to other times. You’ve gotta understand, you’re a miracle, and you being in his arms is like heaven, but he can’t really believe it? But he’s also overwhelmed and tired to let it bother him too much, so he’s able to let his doubt and restraints go a little easier and just breathe. He feels safe, he feels at home and that’s a rare thing, so he’s really just happy to bask in the afterglow and the quietude of it all. It’s the safest, easiest thing in the world for the both of you.

If he’s been on the rougher side, he’ll definitely make sure you’re alright and be more gentle in comparison. and he’s generally more attentive than usual. He’s usually nice about cleaning you up, too, a gentleman lmao.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Kakashi quite likes his upper body, or his torso more generally. He’s lean and broad, but not in an overbearing or obvious way, and he really likes the reaction he gets when you actually do get to see him shirtless. He’s also a little sensitive on his back (and he doesn’t mind if you end up scratching it). But if you rub his shoulders or massage his back or chest, he’s putty in your hands.

When it comes to a partner? So the fandom seems to be consistent in thinking of Kakashi as an ass man, and I’m inclined to agree. He just loves to grab it, slap it, just look at it tbh or whatever, but even if you don’t think your ass is that great, there’s very high probability that he does anyway. But honestly I think he’d have a hard time picking a favourite part of your body.

Some other body parts he definitely loves that don’t get mentioned though: he just loves your waist and how it curves in and out into your hips. He’s mesmerised by it.

plz imagine Kakashi’s nice big hands running gently running along your waist while he thrusts into you deep and slow, your back arching and then they settle on your hips?

Also, he loooooves legs, how they feel wrapped around him, the soft thighs omg. When you wear stockings or heels or other things that accentuate them, ahajhfkaj have mercy on him. Also, wrists and ankles? They’re so pretty and delicate he’ll just grab them where he can. If you both are in some kinda position where he can, he’ll definitely give you lil ankle kisses. also wear an anklet to see him blush

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

So uh, I’m really doing this, huh?

Soooo hear me out. Kakashi’s diet is impeccable. I don’t take criticism here lmao, it’s been mentioned multiple times how much he hates deep fried stuff and sweets (yeah yeah he’s one of those weirdoes that enjoys healthy food most, Kakashi we get it) and he’s always feeding Naruto veggies (or trying to). My point? His cum would taste good, okay? Or at least, not strong or bad at all, very neutral if not good. (You have zero problems swallowing)

Also, he cums a pretty good amount. He tends to try and hold back his orgasm so when he does come it does build up. Coming inside you is his favourite, just the intimacy of it, of filling you like that.

But…. he’s pretty ashamed of it at first, but he does love coming on his partner. Whether it’s on your face (ughhhh when you lick up some of his cum around your mouth after a blowjob), or your breasts, or your back, or wherever tbh. He doesn’t know whether it’s the visuals, the eroticism of it or even a territorial aspect? He doesn’t wanna ponder it too much it’s just hot okay.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

So this one was hard… because, unpopular opinion, I don't see him as into anything too crazy or depraved?

But here’s what I came up with: he’s totally fucked in the Hokage’s office. It’s only a dirty secret because of how improper that is, how inappropriate it is that the man in charge of the whole village is having sex in the very epicentre of where he’s supposed to be doing that, when other Hokage have been in that room before him… but it’s also why he’s into it.

Also, he’ll die before he ever admits to you exactly how many times he’s jerked off to the thought of you. And after you got together into a pair of your panties when you were away and he missed you too much

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Short version: Kakashi’s not as experienced as you might think, but this doesn’t translate into lack of skill in any way.

The long version: Ahhh so I go back on forth on this but I’ma attempt to think this through here. Okay, so, fandom has generally two sides when it comes to Kakashi and this topic. He’s either the completely suave, smooth ladies’ man who has all the one night stands or on account of his issues he’s a passive, stuttering virgin who’s constantly flustered.

Neither of these are that accurate. So I do get ladies man Kakashi to a point. It comes from the fact that he is quite smooth? And women do seem to like him quite easily in the series. And Kakashi definitely has the capacity to be a charmer, and is quite good at flirting when his job requires it or it’s a stranger etc. He’s good at reading people and winning them over. This is more complicated when he’s faced with someone he’s attracted to, or that has the potential to mean something to him. He still might be charming, but he’s very good at using this to keep you further from him, so you can’t really get to know him or get close to him so it’s not quite the same. It’s his way of controlling the distance between you.

Now, when it comes to experience, I don’t think Kakashi’s incapable of using casual sex as some kind of a coping mechanism (it’s not the healthiest), but if he was going to do this, it’d be during the latter part of his ANBU years. I can see him having sex as just a means to forget and remember he’s alive, and quell an urge, with basically faceless partners, or maybe complete strangers on missions. This does make him feel even lonelier after a while though, and it’s not really what he wants. Eventually having sex with women he’ll never see again serves to make him more miserable, and I think by the time we see him at the beginning of the series he doesn’t really do this anymore. So I wouldn’t say he’s completely inexperienced sexually at least, though he definitely is romantically.

Generally after that, Kakashi’s gonna reserve sex for someone who he has a deep emotional and physical connection with, but God forbid he ever calls it what it is - a relationship. Basically, if he’s sleeping with you, he pretty much loves you whether he knows it or not. And if he’s comparing that to his past experiences, he really feels the difference and cherishes it all the more (but it still scares him and he won’t admit it to himself.

So here’s how I see it. There’s always been a sexual chemistry between him and you, and a physical and romantic attraction. But of course Kakashi is Kakashi so he does absolutely nothing about it and doesn’t want to let you do anything about it. Still, you’re surprisingly persistent, and you do become close to each other in a friendly capacity, in whatever way Kakashi’s able to participate in that. Eventually, ( I haven’t thought this through quite yet) you do end up fucking and Kakashi tries to convince himself that he can just do that, that he can keep up having great sex with a great friend and that you don’t mean the world to him. You try to do the same, for his benefit, but you’re in deep and neither of you can’t deny there’s a bond and your connection is so strong that you’re basically in a relationship - and you kinda are by the time you start having sex - but he doesn’t really have the balls to actually call it that till after the 4th shinobi war. (I have some thoughts about how the war impacted Kakashi’s psychology but it’s generally then when he’ll genuinely feel comfortable enough to fully commit himself to you and see a future for himself, which he’s never really had before, and a future with you to boot).

To bring it back to this (I’m sorry what a fucking tangent), Kakashi’s maybe not had sex with a large amount of women, but he’s a quick learner and has natural skill. He also learns your body and what you like quickly. So whilst he’s not as experienced as he seems, he’s definitely more skilled than he has any right to be.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

When it comes to positions there’s very little he wouldn’t enjoy tbh. He does have an affinity for positions like doggy style, just the visuals and the power it gives him. It’s easy for him to get a bit carried away though, but that’s his go to when he’s feeling rougher.

When it’s more romantic and slow and sensual, he also loves variations of missionary, because he loves the intimacy of the eye contact, and how your body is so close he can hear your heartbeat but his absolute favourite positions are missionary variations where your legs are on his shoulders, or where he’s spreading your thighs as perpendicular as possible and really testing your flexibility are probably his favourite cuz legs, and he can go even deeper and get an amazing angle.

But he definitely likes it when you ride him too, whether you’re facing him or away, it just feels too good when you’re bouncing on him like that. Also it’s nice to relax a bit and not have to do more of the work… plz take care of him from time to time…

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He definitely has the capacity to be a fucking dork, as we know, and this has the potential to translate to his sex life. It’s a sign of complete ease if he can laugh and joke with you during, and he loves to have fun and play around with you, but at the same time, he does prefer to be serious most of the time. This means a lot to him and he’ll make sure you know that. He’s also gonna get a bit exasperated if you don’t seem to be taking it as seriously as him, or if you’re too into jokes and giggles for his liking that day. Probably will try and shut you up one way or another.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

(Ughh okay so the idea of Kakashi with a silver happy trail leading to a messy shockwave of hair down there really does things to me okay, I’m sorry, I’ll see myself out)

Okay so… Have you seen how Kakashi manages his hair? Spoiler alert: he doesn’t. I don’t even know if this man owns a hairbrush. So I can definitely see him not being assed about shaving his bush. It’s probably kind of wild, or at the very least more on the unkempt side.

But then again he’s assed enough to keep his face clean shaven so he can wear his mask, so maybe he does, like I do head canon that he’s a very clean person and he probably feels like it is a *bit* cleaner that way but I’m leaning towards nah he just leaves it alone, but will trim it from time to time when it gets too wild or if it bothers you. I do think he probably has slightly more body hair than you’d expect tbh, but his hair is so light especially against his complexion so it’s not really noticeable. Oh and obviously, the carpet matches the drapes. (Idk why this made me imagine Kakashi with a ginger bush.. LMAO there’s a thought)

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It does depend on the mood between you, what kinda day he’s had, what position you’re in etc but he places a lot of value on sex in your relationship, for the intimacy and emotional bonding, not just the physical pleasure. So there are a lot of times where he’d be super intimate. Kakashi’s a man who chooses his words and actions very carefully in normal life and during sex he allows himself to let all that go. His actions really convey the depth of what you mean to him, what being with you like this means to him. He’ll hold you close to him, running his hands all over your body just to feel you everywhere, kiss you everywhere you can whilst he moves, bury his face into your neck, breathe you in - he just is very overwhelmed by this and there are times during your most intimate moments where he’s so in awe and so happy that he could die right there.

That being said, if he’s fucking you over his desk in the hokage’s office and it’s rough and fast, it’s a little harder to feel the intimacy and the romantic connection. Still, it is underlying every moment between you too. You’re the only ones that see these sides of each other, and make each other feel that way, and he really values that. He’ll still make it feel tender somehow and not just mindless fucking (no matter how blank he makes your head feel)

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I don’t see him as being a particularly frequent masturbator tbh. He strikes me as disciplined and he can probably go a while without it, especially if he’s busy, but more than just that, he kinda sees it as an inconvenience he just has to do sometimes? To blow off some steam, or when he’s not had sex in a while or something got his mind racing and it’s a distraction because he literally can’t think about anything else. He’ll probably use his books, but he prefers to use his imagination tbh, though the books can start as a seed for that.

He also doesn’t like having to put too much effort into jerking himself off? He doesn’t like to overcomplicate things when it comes to his sex life, and especially when it’s just jacking off.

He just kinda wants to get it done so he can move on to something more productive or fall asleep or something. So he’s just happy to pump himself off until he gets there.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Okay here’s where I’m gonna lose some of you.

Kakashi’s just not that kinky. Or maybe not kinky by tumblr/fic standards. Like I said in the previous head canon, he just does not see the appeal of making his sex life more complicated than it needs to be and his kinks aren’t gonna be too crazy. He just wants to feel good with you and he’s not that difficult to get going. With that in mind, here are some things he likes:

Spanking ;)

Teasing

Face-fucking

Dirty Talk (to a point, anything too stupid sounding or too dirty might make him laugh or take him out of it…)

clothed sex (where you are so horny for each other you can’t even wait to get undressed properly)

semi-public sex (he would hate the idea of actually being seen but the idea of *almost* being caught is kinda hot to him, not that he’ll ever let that happen if he can help it),

body worship (is that a kink)

LIGHT dom (I’ll mention it more later but he’s not too extreme into this stuff, but if you call him Hokage-sama or captain he might get a little too into it… not that that’s bad) I heard someone call him general during the war arc and that shit SENT me

he maaaay do a a threesome with shadow clones (either two of his if you want that, but two of you seem kinda hot… that being said, this might delve into that ‘making things too complicated’ so Idk, this might just be hot to me cuz I would like two Kakashis to rail me and I do think he’d enjoy it if two of you focused on him),

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

The bed is fine but that’s really what he associates with either morning sex, or romantic, intimate lovemaking type stuff. When it’s more raunchy and playful, he really likes bending you over stuff tbh, his desk, kitchen counter etc most surfaces work well. He likes the shower too. Also, one time you both were just so hot for each other and didn’t make it to the bed and went at it on the hard floor and it was so wild and rough.

But he really loves fucking you up against walls, doors, mirrors, etc, Wall is his favourite, it’s just so intense and he gets animalistic and yeah it’s so good.

WAIT, how did I forget, sex in front of the mirror?! This is something he enjoys more with a more flustered or shy s/o who’s not used to looking at themselves. I have been thinking about writing something for this

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Kakashi’s more on the traditional side in terms of what he likes but it’s really not that hard to turn him on. He loooooveeees when you wear lingerie for him, anything pretty and lacy but also stockings and all that. But then there’s something about when it’s simplistic too, like when you’re just wearing his shirt and nothing else? That’ll get him going too. But yeah, plz surprise him with a sexy outfit when he comes home from a long day of work and he’ll love you 5ever.

I dunno why I’ve always thought this, but I also think he’s turned on by subtle, understated signs of femininity? It’s just such a contrast to what he’s used to and he really appreciates it and is just mesmerised by you tbh. It’s things that are natural, the way when you sit down your hips get that crease where they meet your thighs, you might sometimes look down when you smile softly, the way you walk, pretty hair. If you have a really classical, elegant/sophisticated kind of style he loves that. Kinda hard to explain what I mean with that but like, say a dress or skirt that shows off your curves but isn’t too revealing? It really gets his mind racing. That make sense? (No worries if that’s not your style either, like I say, it’s not that hard to turn him on) But I also think he kinda likes when you wear jewellery? Like nothing too ostentatious but if you’re naked beneath him and the only thing you’re wearing is a necklace or some fancy earrings he just thinks you look so beautiful.

He also likes the comfortable, gentle teasing and flirting in the conversations you have, the jovial aspect to them, the connotations they carry. You could say one comment and not mean a whole lot by it and it might get his mind racing. He’ll think about you all day.

I mentioned before but offering to massage his back/chest/shoulders is his favourite, and if you kiss his jawline or neck even innocently it might not be innocent for very long ;) just when you’re generally affectionate and gentle with him.

He’d definitely enjoy it if you were confident, but I also feel like he’d like a shyer s/o too? If you were a little easier to fluster than he is, he finds it much easier to be confident and make you feel that much better ;) he likes making you blush.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Okay, here’s where I’m definitely gonna lose some of you. But hang with me.

Short version: He doesn’t really like BDSM, be nice to him and let him be

Long version (I’m sorry guys):

By the time Kakashi’s in a loving relationship with you, he’s shown you his vulnerability and he trusts you, and he’s happy to try things within reason, but he has boundaries. And he expects you to respect them, just like he respects yours. You’re gonna frustrate him and make him close off if you’re wanting to push him to try new stuff or go out of his comfort zone. He can be set in his ways. If he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t want to. So if that’s not cool for you, that’s a turn-off.

He’s not into role-reversal. This is a tricky one to explain (and I’d explained it better in my first version of this that got lost to the void but alas this is where my memory is getting hazy), but though he’s a man with a lot of power and responsibility and control, these things aren’t necessarily things he’s insecure about or that come unnaturally to him. They’re not a persona or things he’s necessarily putting a lot of effort into being. He just is. He’s self-aware of his own abilities and strengths and he’s very a-matter-of-fact about them. I guess what I’m saying is, the more masculine attributes of his personality and demeanour that make some people say he’s DaddyAF and others say he’s probably not like that sexually, are just who he is naturally. He’s not putting effort into being these things and does not see the appeal of working to reverse this in the bedroom, or better yet, doesn’t really understand it. It’s way more effort for him to do that than it is for him to just be who he is. I could go way more into the psychology of this but this thing is long enough already but part of that accepting him for who he is is just letting him be. I’m saying he’s in no way a sub, basically.

But he’s not a huge dom, either. He’s actually really not into anything hardcore when it comes to dom/sub or bdsm stuff like at all. Like he’s not gonna be your daddy or your master or anything like that. He really values ease above all else and is happy to just enjoy the two of you and your body without adding extra layers of extreme power dynamics and kinks on top of it. He’s happy to be more on the authoritative side, which is why I say light dom, and it’s more natural for him to take the lead, but he’s not thinking about it too hard. I also don’t think he’d be averse to some mild power play - in that mean he likes it when you get a little cheeky, tease him, you can make fun of him, there’s a bit of cat and mouse between you, but if you’re too much into control or power that actually might bring out his rougher dominant side a bit more than normal. Don’t get me wrong, he’s not incapable of lying back and letting you do your thing.

…But he is still a bit of a control freak at heart and he doesn’t want to feel like something could go wrong, so if you make him feel like he can’t do anything about the situation or having no control at all is likely gonna be a bad experience for him.The other thing is that Kakashi doesn’t feel like he’s had control over his life where it counts, and he still feels pretty shitty about himself a lot. He’s not gonna wanna relinquish all control during his sex life, no matter how much he trusts you. He’d hate feeling completely passive, and if you humiliate him you’re just gonna make him feel shitty. He doesn’t wanna humiliate you either. So what I’m saying is, he’s just not into femdom or extreme male sub stuff or anything like that, sorry not sorry. He’s felt shitty enough in his life for you to turn it into a kink. He’s a pretty chill guy, but he still has his comfort zone, and he trusts you enough to be vulnerable, don’t take advantage of that. Be kind to Kakashi Hatake 2020.

With everything I’ve said so far, he’s never gonna let you peg him. It’s not something that really appeals to him visually or psychologically, plus any kind of receiving anal stimulation is just not really his thing. Leave Kakashi Hatake’s asshole alone 2020. Also, he doesn’t like the plastic/artificialness of toys in general, he’d much rather genuine skin on skin contact and feeling your body and you his, and just yeah you having to use toys on him will turn him off or seeing you in a way, that’s you know, not you, with an artificial appendage is just, a big no for him. Probably has the exact opposite effect you’d want.

He’d also never wanna hurt you, or be into you hurting him. If it doesn’t trigger his PTSD or his tendency to self-loathe like all the other things I mentioned, he’s been getting hurt his whole life so he’s likely not gonna enjoy this in the bedroom, it’s either banal to him or a complete turn-off at the least. He’s self-aware enough to know it’s not gonna be the healthiest thing for him to sexualise it. He’s also hurt too many people to do something that could potentially hurt you, so no weapons, ninja techniques, things like that. I don’t think he’d even be into choking you. He just wants to relax, and enjoy himself and being with you in a way where he can feel safe, but not passive, and he loves having a partner that can allow him to do that.

So a partner being too dominant to the point of making him feel shitty and weak would be a turn-off, or just generally one that’s impatient or unkind. You’ll need to be empathetic and warm to get anywhere with him anyway, or at least you’ll struggle otherwise. Also, he wouldn’t ever want a threesome. It’s taken so much out of him to build up trust and intimacy between you, he’s sure that introducing another person, even if it’s only a one time thing, would ruin it. He also doesn’t want anyone other than you to see him in that way, or vice versa.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

So I don’t know why but I feel like Kakashi sees eating you out as such a special, intimate act? It’s a big deal, and this is something he probably wouldn’t do with someone he doesn’t have a strong connection to, or not as much. But when he does love you, your responses and the whole act are just mesmerising to him. Maybe it’s how vulnerable delicate you seem, how your moans are more gentle and delicate compared to when he’s fucking you, how he’s up and close against your most private parts, how he’s the only one that sees you like this… It really gets him going tbh, but it also takes a lot out of him? It just ends up meaning more to him than a blowjob might mean to you. So he might actually end up receiving more than he gives, despite the fact that he enjoys it and is very good at it. I don’t mind I’ll suck his dick 25/8

Like most men, he’ll be putty in your hands if you give him a good blowjob. It’s one of those things that never cease to amaze him or drive him crazy, no matter how many times you’ve done it, the sight of you on your knees, sucking him down. He’ll feel guilty but he face-fucks you sometimes, and it feels amazing, but he honestly might let himself get carried away. So he’ll sometimes grab your hair or clench his fist instead, otherwise he’ll just try to gently guide your ahead along sometimes. His moans during blowjobs are also damn hot as well. Like guttural groans and moans, he’s louder than normal.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends with Kakashi! Whether it’s a quickie, the position, where you’re doing it. He has a penchant for slow and sensual though. He wants to savour you, the sensation, the moment, the sights, everything. He really wants to bask in the intimacy of what’s going on and go as deep as he can and take his time. He likes taking it easy.

But there’s always gonna be moments where he can be pretty damn animalistic and rough and he’s pretty good with that too. Though, where he has the time to do so, he likes to build up to it? Occasionally he’ll be too pent up/frustrated or too short on time to really do it but like if time and space allows he doesn’t wanna start ramming into you like right away, he wants you to adjust, and will slowly fuck you until you’re really want it as crazily as he does.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He likes a good quickie, or rather, they’re his only option sometimes. He’s a busy guy who can’t always plan his schedule, and this goes tenfold when he becomes Hokage. So whilst his favourite will also be something longer where he can take his time and enjoy your body, you’re gonna have to accept that there will be periods where all you’ll get is quickies in his office, or in the morning before he has to leave.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

So despite all that stuff I listed about all the things he won’t do, he’s willing to try a lot of stuff with you. He does enjoy experimenting and he thinks it’s fun and brings you guys closer together, but within reason. He doesn’t wanna do anything too complicated or too strange by his standards, but he’ll be up for new locations, new positions, and he is risky in the sense that he won’t mind doing some stuff in public, or semi-public at least.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

So it’s definitely better when he doesn’t have his sharingan constantly sapping his energy anymore, but not to the point that you really noticed there being a problem before. He just puts a lot of effort and concentration into not cumming before you, and he’s pretty good at that. Depending on how pent up he is, he can last a decent amount of time. But if he has lasted quite a long time, when he finally does cum, he might not be in the mood to go again.

I see him going for like, one short round and one long one. Or if it’s shorter his recovery time’s pretty decent. But if you get ever happen to get three or more rounds of him in one go you should definitely praise him or take care of him cuz that’s pretty difficult and his dick might be broken for the next few days.

The only time his ability to hold back his orgasm goes to shit is when you’re having his way with him by riding him or sucking him off. You’re just too good have mercy on him But he’s better able to control that stuff and slow down and take breaks when he needs to when he’s the one leading things.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Nah, this harkens back to the whole thing about him not wanting to overcomplicate things and just have fun without thinking too much. He can’t be assed with toys and won’t use them on himself. I also mentioned earlier that he doesn’t like the fakeness/artificiality of toys, just the gimmicky-ness of it, the plastics... Nah. He wants to feel something real. Besides it’s canon how crazy this man’s physical skill is, his hands, his fingers… He’s completely satisfied with just his hands. And you are too

If it means a lot to you, he can use toys on you. But let’s be honest I really don’t think you’ll feel the need.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Kakashi is a little shit, we all know this. He loves to tease and edge, and he just loves seeing how frustrated you get, your scolding, knowing that you still can’t make him do anything he doesn’t want to do, your annoyed little whines and huffs… But he always more than makes up for it later.

He is so bad at receiving teasing though, he cannot withstand as much as you can, which is lame, considering how much he can put you through.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not that loud, though there are times he can be. When he’s getting close to cumming, when he finally does are probably his loudest. But generally, his noises are so so nice. He makes soft little grunts and pants mostly, but he’ll growl and groan, whisper your name.. But sometimes you can get a semi-loud moan out of hiim and omg it’s so so hot.

He’s a little louder when he’s tired, or first thing in the morning? He’s more sensitive. When he’s not having to concentrate so much or think too much about what’s going on, he’ll get a little louder. He’s also louder when you’re riding him than in other positions.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

You know what I’ve gone in so deep with this head canons that I can’t think of a random one and I can’t remember what I wrote yesterday.

So Kakashi really appreciates just physical contact with you, wherever it might be. It doesn’t necessarily need to be sexual either but it makes him feel at ease. I said this already too, but Kakashi loves the comfort of just being vanilla. Nothing special, nothing elaborate, no gimmicks, just him on top of you, with your legs around his hips, as he drives into you. It’s literally just you and him in the world and that’s all there needs to be and nothing’s ever felt more right than that.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

It’s canon Kakashi is big need I say more. Okay I’ll say more. So it’s pretty long and thick. It’s not like monster huge but he’ll definitely take some adjusting. Probs uncut, and the same girth all the way down. Also kinda veiny, there’s some big ones on the underside. You’ll definitely feel him throb inside you. But his body is nice too, but we been knowing that. He’s lean, and muscular, but in an understated way. He also has really nice legs? Like his thighs are good. The only time I saw his legs was in ep 101 of og Naruto but I was very pleased tbh. Like they’re well-trained but not crazy muscular like those men who work out a lot get… do you know what I mean? The round calves and stuff? He doesn’t have that. He also has a very nice ass. Gets flustered if you stare at it or slap it. Please do though his reaction is so cute.

Anyways, back to his dick, the colour is slightly darker than the rest of his body and the tip a tad darker than that. I remember seeing a picture on twitter and omg I couldn’t like it cuz I need some semblance of keeping my twitter professional but omg I saved the link, this is it though, the artist gets him perfectly.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

It’s high but nothing ridiculous. He’s controlled enough where he can go a while without it, but this is harder once he has a partner.

Once you guys have settled into each other and grown comfortable, he’s probably up for it 3-4 times a week, but depends on you and both of your schedules too. Sometimes it’s more, sometimes less. But he’s a busy guy and has tons of things going on so as much as he’d like to, he can’t think about having sex extremely frequently. He’s also gonna have periods where he physically can’t see you that much, so the times you do see each other might be spent having sex so it might feel like it’s crazy high, but it’s more that he’s making up for lost time.

As he gets older his sex drive does decrease slightly, but not by much tbh. He’s very adaptable to your needs too. If you wanna fuck a lot that’s all great but if it’s like twice a day every day then calm down dang you might need to satisfy yourself. But if yours is a lot lower than is, he might struggle, but eh, he can manage.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Sex definitely depletes him and makes it easy to sleep, but he’ll normally wait for you to fall asleep. It’s a control thing and a protective thing, but he just feels a lot better about sleeping once you’re already there dozing off in his arms, and after sex is one of the rare times where he feels relaxed enough and his mind is empty enough where he can get a good night’s rest without any issues.

#kakashi #hatake kakashi #kakashi x reader #kakashi headcanons #kakashi smut #naruto #naruto imagines #naruto headcanons #kakashi hatake #kakashi imagines #pfthinks #pfsins

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