#a brief interval from the asks
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They are judging you
#new pickles & lasagna drawing!! who’dve thunk!?!?#a brief interval from the asks#I’ve noticed it’s been a while since I’ve drawn these two up to their old antics#art#digital art#my art#metalocalypse#lasagna#lasagna the not drummer#metalocalypse oc#pickles the drummer#dethklok#comic#lasagna cornatzer#pickles metalocalypse
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Sharing is Caring (II)
Summary: Things get complicated, but you find yourself sharing a bed with Miguel… once again. Too bad someone else is in the room.
Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader
18+. Sharing one bed. Semi-public. Blue balls. Sexual tension. Mutual masturbation. Creampie. Implied cockwarming.
* ˚ ✦ Part 1. (you don’t have to read it to enjoy this one, though)
You were fucked.
Extremely fucked.
Not only had the anomaly managed to slip through your fingers, effectively disabling the trackers scattered around, but you were also fucked, because now you were left to deal with the aftermath of a very intimate encounter with Miguel.
It was nearly five in the morning and the night was nowhere near being done. Fortunately, it had stopped raining, which helped with visibility and grip, and having Lyla assist you as in replacing the faulty sensors was also very much welcome.
“Sensor 24 up and running,” the AI’s sing-song voice announced, as the device bleeped green.
You leapt over the railing, shooting a string of web to the side of the hotel, so you could swing through the window.
As you landed with a clumsy thump, you noticed Miguel had already gotten back from his reconnaissance check.
He looked positively… pissed off.
Great.
“Lyla, call her,” her grumbled, checking his watch.
“Already did,” she announced, appearing by his shoulder. “Want me to run a diagnostics of the perimeter once again?”
“Do it in five minute intervals,” he said flatly. “The anomaly must be nearby.”
You removed your mask and considered sitting on the bed, but were soon reminded that not even thirty minutes ago, you were getting fucked by Miguel.
A shudder ran through your body.
“You okay?” he asked, his narrowed eyes on you.
You shrugged. “Sure.”
The problem with having impromptu sex was that now you were left to deal with the soreness between your legs, and the frustration of an orgasm that never came to be.
Did Miguel feel the same way?
Your eyes roamed his body, and you find yourself glaring at his-
“Hey! I need you to focus,” Miguel said with a snap of his fingers. “There’s still a chance we deal with it tonight.”
You were about to snap back when a loud distorted buzz filled the room, swirls of flashing lights nearly blinding you, as the inter-dimensional portal expanded quickly in pulsating waves.
Through came Jessica Drew, followed closely by Peter B. Parker.
Fuck.
“What are you doing here?” Miguel growled, pointing at Peter.
“What?” he asked, eyes widening in confusion.
Miguel wasn’t known to be a very patient man, and you reckoned his patience was now hanging by a thread. “I called for Jess. Not you.”
Jess let out an exasperated sigh. “Easy, Miguel. We were both on the same mission.”
He straightened up, but crossed his arms. “Right.”
“Care to explain why I had to leave to be here?” she went on, resting on hand on her swollen belly. “How did you lose track of the anomaly?”
He exchanged a brief look with you. “The sensors didn’t alert us in time.”
That was true.
“Weren’t you supposed to be monitoring, regardless?”
“We dozed off,” you chimed in. “Momentarily! Just for a while.”
Not really true…
Jess glanced at you, suspicion written all over face.
“Sleeping on the job,” she then chuckled, eyeing Miguel deviously. “Didn’t think you’d ever do that, Miguel.”
He narrowed his eyes menacingly. “We weren’t sleeping. We were just resting our eyes for a moment.”
A blatant lie.
“What’s that on your neck?” Peter suddenly asked with a worried look on his face.
Oh….
You let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the tender hickey spot. “Bug bite.”
“Allergic reaction,” Miguel blurted out at the same time.
Fuck.
You shot him a murderous look.
Jessica arched an eyebrow. “Which one is it?”
“An allergic reaction to a bug bite,” Miguel said with a shrug, growing visibly annoyed.
A wave of relief washed over you momentarily. That seemed plausible enough.
But…
“Oh, really?” she asked with a knowing smile. “What bug? A spid-”
But Miguel was already cutting her off. “We don’t have time for this!”
Peter walked to you, craning your neck to the side. “You should have it checked. It looks serious.”
Ah, Peter… ever the innocent.
“Jess, you stay with us,” Miguel says, dragging Peter away from you at once. “We need an extra pair of eyes.”
She frowned. “No. Peter stays. I need to get some sleep,” she said, patting her belly.
“No!” Miguel growled.
“Actually, I was thinking of heading back home,” Peter drawled out, rubbing the back of his head. “Mayday should be waking up soon.”
“And I’m pregnant,” Jess shot, holding her chin high.
Peter swallowed and fell silent. The deal was sealed.
“Lyla, any updates?”
The hologram popped up instantly. “No, boss.”
Jess glanced over at you one last time, before stepping into the portal once again. “You should really have that checked. Whatever bug did that seems… vicious,” she then slipped into the vortex, which vanished behind her.
You momentarily froze in place, feeling the dread of realisation hit you like a ton of bricks.
She knew.
“I’ll be right back,” Peter drawled out with a yawn and a stretch, disappearing into the bathroom.
The moment you heard rhe door click shut, you turned to Miguel.
“An allergic reaction to a bug bite?” you hissed.
He scowled deeply. “Because simply saying bug bite sounded ridiculous.”
“She didn’t believe it, regardless.”
Miguel was suddenly towering over you, his face twisted in annoyance. “Then why does it matter?”
“Because… you gave me a visible hickey!”
It was a silly thing to get upset about. There were worse things in life than having Miguel O’Hara marking you as a result of built up sexual tension.
But you didn’t want to give in.
“Got carried away,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah…”
He cleared his throat. “But I have a problem.”
You looked up at him. “What problem?”
“Well…” he said, glancing at the bathroom door.
“Peter?”
“No!”
You clicked your tongue. “Then what?”
His placed both hands on his hips and glanced down.
Your eyes followed suit.
Oh.
Oh.
“What? Why are you… what?” you stuttered in disbelief at the sight of the outline of his hardened cock.
“Biology, remember?” he said through gritted teeth. “It’s not going away.”
You somehow managed to tear your eyes from the impressive bulge. “Go jerk off, then!”
He had you walk back until you hit the wall behind. “It won’t go away.”
Had you just given Miguel blue balls?
“How’s that my problem?” you huffed, staring intensely into his crimson eyes.
“This is all your fault.”
“Oh, really? I thought we were blaming Biology.”
Before Miguel could retort, the sudden squeak of a door being swung open, had you slipped past him.
Peter emerged, eyeing you both. “Oh, I see what this is.”
Miguel had to move strategically in order to hide his raging boner from him. “What do you mean?”
“I know what’s up with you two,” Peter said, with a playful grin. “All the whispering and whatnot.”
Great.
Were you two that transparent?
“Huh…”
Miguel had pursed his lips.
Peter paced closer to you, eyeing you with a knowing smile. “You’re deciding on Jessica’s birthday present, right?”
You blinked a few times and heard Miguel exhale nearby.
“Right? I knew it!” he threw his arms in the air as if he’d just won the lottery.
In truth, you were simply baffled at how innocent Peter could be. The immediate weight that was lifted off your shoulders was enough to draw a laugh from you.
“Sure!”
“Of course, Peter,” Miguel said, voice dripping with his trademark sarcasm. “We went on this mission, so we could go through birthday checklists.”
A layer of pride settled on Peter’s face. “Ah! You’re growing soft, Miguel.”
You winced at his poor choice of words.
“But fear not!” he said as if he was about to fight off the anomaly himself. “We’ll take turns watching. You two can get some rest and properly plan it out,” he then pinched his thumb and index finger together and dragged them across his lips. “Your secret is safe with me.”
Miguel didn’t budge at first, but you were all too grateful to stop this insane conversation altogether.
“Thanks, Peter.”
“Of course,” he smiled widely, pacing to the open hotel window, leaping into the the sky night.
You shot Miguel one last look before slipping inside into the comfort of the bedsheets, welcoming the softness.
But you were sorely mistaken if you thought Miguel wouldn’t have followed you.
Your heart skipped a beat. Or two.
You had turned to face the wall, hoping he’d take the hint, and leave you be.
But once you felt his erection pressing into your ass, you knew you were a goner.
There was something extremely empowering about having a man like Miguel be so needy and desperate.
He scooted closer until his breath fanned your ear. “Can you just…”
You scoffed, pride swelling inside you. “Go ask Biology to jerk you off.”
“Whawt?”
“You keep blaming it, so…”
Silence fell between you two.
His hand then came to grip your hip. “It’s you.”
“I didn’t catch that,” you said, feeling his thumb rubbing gently, as he pushed the top half of your suit increasingly higher.
He rolled his hips into you, letting out a shaky moan in your ear that had your skin raise with goosebumps.
You flipped onto your other side to fully face him, and Miguel immediately took your lips with his, kissing you hungrily.
His hand dragged the fabric all the way up until he managed to expose one breast, breaking the kiss only to move down to suck on your hardened nipple.
The thought that he might be too much vaguely crossed your mind. For the second time that night you were meeting a side of Miguel that you had never seen before.
A side you much preferred.
Your fingers dragged through his hair, silently praising him.
In no time, you watched his digital suit disintegrate, giving you full access to the beautifully sculped body underneath.
He gripped your wrist and lowered it until your fingers grazed his cock. Knowing fully well what he craved, you wrapped them around it, earning an immediate jerk of his hips.
“Miguel…” you moaned, letting him freely fuck your hand, spilling more and more precum.
He released your nipple and had his forehead resting on your shoulder, his hand on top of your, making sure you squeezed tighter and tighter.
It didn’t take long for your hand to be soaked with precum, making it easier for him to slide up and down.
You squeezed involuntarily and a gush of wetness spilled into your underwear, your body yearning for him to fill you up with his cock.
He moved his hips deliciously, and you focused on taking in the wet sounds that filled the room as well as his breathless grunts.
But such bliss was short-lived as you heard Peter bolting into the room with a swish of his web.
Well…
Miguel immediately stilled, letting go of your hand.
You didn’t let go of his cock, instead peeking over his shoulder only to find Peter rolling out a sleeping bag on the floor.
He then turned to face you, and your head immediately slumped against the pillow, eyes on Miguel’s.
“Are you okay?”
“What?”
Peter’s voice was but a whisper. “Your heart rate is accelerated.”
Ah… spider senses.
“Yeah… I’m just a bit tense… it’s fine,” you muttered, feeling Miguel’s cock twitch in your hand. “Go get some rest. I’ll take over.”
“Oh! Thank you,” he beamed. “Mayday has been giving us terrible nights, and I could use a few minutes.”
You watched as he fluffed out his pillow before settling down on his back with a yawn.
Miguel’s breathing has steadied momentarily and you eventually let go of him.
But he quickly got a hold of your wrist.
The implication of that action wasn’t exactly subtle and you widened your eyes.
“No,” you mouthed right away.
His crimson eyes had darkened and you spotted his fangs from behind his lips.
You shook your head vehemently.
This was a bad idea.
But as soon as Peter’s snores tore through the room, you felt your heart clench.
“Peter is right there… he will hear it!”
He pressed an urgent kiss to your forehead. “We’ll be quiet. I’ll help you be quiet,” he promised, pressing his cock further into your already soaked crotch.
Your eyes fluttered shut, and just as you were about to let out a low whimper, you felt his hand cover your mouth, effectively reigning it in.
“Quiet.”
The other travelled down painfully slowly, palm grazing your exposed breast briefly, before resting just above the waistline of your suit.
“You have to be quiet,” he warned in a barely audible tone.
You nodded and he lifted his hand from your lips.
“We shouldn’t…” you muttered under your breath.
But your words were not matching your actions, as you dragged your hand covered in precum across his hard chest, taking your time to gently rub his nipple with your thumb.
You thought Miguel had stopped breathing altogether, but soon realised he was merely attempting to hold back a moan.
His fingers quickly slipped past the the waistline, finding your clit and drawing small circles. You had to bite your lip hard to suppress a whimper, rolling your hips into him.
You found his cock again, gripping it desperately and giving him a few pumps that matched the tempo of his strokes.
The thrill of indulging in such experience even when someome else was in the room, and with the increased chances of being caught, merely added to the pleasure you were already feeling.
“You’re doing good,” Miguel praised you through a shaky breath. “So good…”
Impatience took over and you wiggled out of your bottom half of the suit, allowing you to grant him betterr acces, as hou parted your legs.
He immediately seized it and slipped one finger inside.
You had to clasp your hand over your mouth to keep from groaning, eyes fluttering shut.
His breath was on your ear again. “Can you take one more?”
You nodded, not trusting your voice. A second finger immediately joined the first one, slinding inside effortlessly.
Feeling that you had managed to keep yourself under control, you dropped the hand covering your lips to grip his cock.
“And another one?”
You shook your head, fearing that would be too much. He pressed a kiss to your neck with a sigh, as he fucked your hand in a slow rhythm.
The knots of pleasure in your lower abdomen let you know that you were headed towards the precipice. You kept on riding his fingers relentlessly, your mind suddenly hazy from the feeling of being so full of him already.
“I’m close…” he mouthed, his breath shaky and cock twitching.
He had bared his fangs, and you thought you’d combust on the spot, realising he was truly overwhelmed with pleasure.
Finding your voice again, you whispered sensually, “Where do you want to cum?”
His eyed widened, pupils fully blown.
Your hips faltered briefly, grazing your clit across the palm of his hand. “Inside?”
He pressed his eyes shut and dug his fangs into his lower lip. “I won’t last.”
“I know,” you moaned, dragging thumb across his tip, feeling more droplets of warm precum coating your skin.
Peter suddenly let out a loud snore that made you jolt.
“Are you close?” Miguel asked.
“I’ll be with you inside me.”
You shifted on the mattress, and he removed his fingers from you at once, a wet sound filling the room.
Your body shuddered from the loss, but you soon felt his tip proding your entrance.
Before you could take another breath, he jerked his hips and slipped past your fold effortlessly.
His hand was on your mouth again, and this time you could taste yourself, as he struggled to keep your moans at a minimum.
It was also evident the sudden position was taking a toll on him. His steady pace was faltering with each passing second.
You soon entered the familiar point of no return, feeling an intense wave of pleasure tear from within you, blinding your vision with each pulse and contraction. It took all of your not to moan out loud even against his hand, the few shreds of sanity having a hold on you.
Miguel joined you, clearly not able to withstand the rhythmic squeezes around his cock as you reached your high.
Your caught a glimpse oh him biting the back of his other hand hard. He would for sure draw blood with his fangs, but you couldn’t even stay properly focused.
He bottomed out as deep as he could, spurts of cum coating your squeezing walls.
The two of you were struggling to breathe, shallow pants surrounding you.
“Oh my god! Butterfly!”
Peter…
You jerked away from Miguel in distress but with him still buried deep inside you, catching a glimpse of Peter sitting on the floor, breathing rapidly.
“Go back to sleep. It was just a dream,” you said with a smile.
Miguel pulled you into an embrace. “You did good.”
“Me? Not Biology?”
He scowled deeply.
“You can slide out now…” you whispered with a yawn.
Miguel didn’t move. “I want to stay a little longer likes this.”
Masterlist
#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o’hara smut#miguel o’hara x you#miguel o’hara#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o’hara x fem!reader#spiderman 2099 x reader#miguel x reader#spiderman 2099
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taste
pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader
summary: matt just wants a taste.
warnings: swearing, explicit sexual content (minors dni)
a/n: it’s thanksgiving here today, and despite my mixed feelings about this holiday, I am thankful for all of y’all. so, here’s a little treat from me to you bc I haven’t shown our favorite human disaster some love in awhile. 🖤
word count: 1.1k
Matt lost track of how long he’d had his head buried between your thighs. Your hair was still damp from your shower earlier, fresh notes of citrus and green apple lingering on the silk sheets. That coupled with the crisp sandalwood of his own cologne from the worn Columbia shirt of his you had stolen to bed intertwined with your own distinct scent lit a fire of desire within him. He’d discarded a layer of his black suit with every silent step he took descending the staircase that led up to the rooftop door.
It had been a bad night, and Matt’s inherent Catholic guilt was at an all time high. So, he positioned himself exactly where he thought he belonged.
On his knees.
Matt held your soft thighs in his rough, calloused hands, his warm tongue lazily tumbling over your swollen clit over and over again. He slipped his tongue through your soaked folds much like he had the first time he had really kissed you; when a sweet kiss good night had ended with your back firmly pressed up against your front door and the two of you panting into each other's mouths.
Angelic pleas for mercy had sounded from your lips in various intervals, but your greedy fingers continued to tug him just a little closer by tight grips on his chestnut strands. Neither one of you seemed to be able to quit the other. Matt’s nose was nuzzled against your public bone, and his plump lips were wrapped around your clit, alternating between suckling languidly at a pace that made your eyes roll into the back of your head and dragging his tongue up and down the length of your entire pussy meticulously.
Every time you let out a desperate chant of his name and rolled your hips up in a needy way in search of more, Matt groaned loudly and moved his own hips in tandem. He had been rutting against the mattress for God only knows how long now, the front of his briefs completely soaked from the weeping slit on the head of his throbbing cock. He’d never been so painfully hard in his life.
But Matt didn’t feel like he had earned a release yet.
Despite the several tangy coats of your arousal on his tongue, he wanted more. He needed just a little more.
Just one more, he told himself, then he’d finally let himself fuck you. But right now, he was exactly where he wanted to be. Face nestled against your pussy, feeling your heartbeat pounding against his welcoming tongue, smelling the scent that was uniquely you right under his nose, hearing the verbal reassurances of how much you needed him, and how badly you wanted him.
Praises of his name and confessions of love slowly lifted the self imposed weight that laid heavy on his chest like cement. If an angel like you believed the Devil deserved Heaven, then maybe he did. You didn’t ask for his penance, but he wanted to give it. He wanted to be worthy of being the man you made him feel like he was.
Matt ignored the ache in his jaw, and he whimpered against your core as his briefs snagged against the sensitive head of his cock just right. He wasn’t gonna last long. Not with the heavenly aroma of you surrounding his senses completely, the sweet sound of your pleasure hitting his ears, the thrum of your impending climax thundering against his tongue.
He never wanted to come up for air. If this was how he was going to die, drowning in the tidal wave of your gratification, then he’d die a happy man.
Matt used his index and middle finger to spread your slicked pussy apart, eagerly swirling his tongue around your pulsing nub before switching to flicking the tip of his tongue back and forth across it like a metronome. God, you were so warm and soft, and so fucking wet. He couldn’t tell where his saliva ended and where your own essence started, but he didn’t fucking care. The only taste he wanted seared into his taste buds was yours anyway.
He delved his tongue as deep within your cunt as he could, fucking you with it sensually while his nose bumped against your overstimulated clit repeatedly. You were close again. He could tell by the hitch in your breaths and the quiver in your soft thighs that were enclosed tightly around his head.
Matt never felt like he deserved you, so he made it his personal mission to make sure he earned you.
As soon as another wave of your candied tang drenched his mouth and dripped down his stubbled chin, Matt exploded with a pathetic whimper, feeling his own sticky warmth coating his lower abdomen and the tops of his thighs. The only reason he pulled his face away from your cunt was because you weakly pushed at his shoulders with your trembling hands.
“Fuckfuckfuck…Matty…I can’t. I-God, I need a minute-“
The breathless pants sounding from your lips were an elegant symphony to his ears. He closed his eyes while resting his head on your smooth thigh, trying to catch his own breath. For several minutes neither of you said anything, just laid there tangled up in the sheets together, basking in the afterglow of pleasure.
All of a sudden, Matt sensed a shift in you. He heard your eyes flutter open, and felt the way you shifted your head off the pillow to peer down at him in curiosity.
“Matty…did…did you-“
“Yeah.”
He didn’t bother hiding it. He wasn’t ashamed. He’d be pissed when the cloud of lust currently fogging up his brain eventually cleared and he realized he ruined yet another set of silk sheets, but right now, he was too satisfied to give a shit about anything other than this moment with you.
A melodic giggle immediately erupted from your chest, and Matt squeezed your thigh teasingly in retaliation which caused you to squeal.
“Hey! I wasn’t making fun of you. It’s actually quite flattering that you enjoy having your head between my thighs so much that you can come from that alone.”
“Sweetheart, you could make me come just by reading our grocery list.”
Another round of angelic giggles fell from your lips, and a quiet whine of disapproval sounded from Matt when he felt you shifting in bed. Much to his dismay, you moved your soft and warm thigh away from under his head, which caused him to purse his plush lips in a pout. But before he could even protest, you were gently pushing him onto his back and brushing your lips against the shell of his ear.
“Maybe I’ll test that theory later, but right now, I’d rather make you come with my mouth in a different way.”
tags: @yarrystyleeza @little-miss-dilf-lover @avengerstower-houseplant @mars-rants-a-lot @topperthornton @hailey-murdock @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @thyme-in-a-bubble @ninejlovebot @purrrfect @pennylovey @firesunflamed @oscarisaacsleftknee @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @utterlynuts
#matt murdock#matt murdock x you#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock x female reader#matt murdock x fem!reader#matt murdock x f!reader#matt murdock blurb#matt murdock smut#daredevil#daredevil blurb#daredevil smut
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Catching
Summary: None of your partners had ever been able to make you come before. Joel changed that.
Pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader
Word count: ~1.9k
Warnings: smut from start to finish, but make it so poetic (piv, fingering, f receiving oral, dirty talk), Joel is a little bit of a menace and also a lot pussy drunk, negative self thought and doubt, a smidge of anxiety, talk of sex with previous partners being painful/uncomfortable
A/N: This was the result of another brain worm that would not leave me aloneeeeeee. Anyway, thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy and I would love to know what you think!
Joel made you come the first time you slept with him.
It’s not that you thought he wasn’t capable of it. No, you were sure he was more than capable. Joel was nothing like your previous partners.
But something about it still surprised you.
His care surprised you. His careful attention surprised you. It itched beneath your skin and wormed into your heart. There was space among your bones, hollow places left empty that he managed to nest down into.
He touched you, touched you, touched you—
Joel wound you up expertly. Like he knew everything about you already.
Or, maybe he listened.
You soaked the sheets long before his fingers or tongue touched your cunt.
And then, he made you come.
You guessed maybe it was a little bit of a surprise then, but not because you thought he couldn't. Just because no one had ever tried to before, just because no one had ever managed to before.
You’d never come with a partner. And when Joel made you come, with his mouth and then his fingers and then his cock, again and again and again, it was more than a little overwhelming.
It made you cry in the intervals between hitched breaths and raw lips.
The spaces between your ribs seemed to close, the carefully built hollow parts of you that Joel had burrowed into crushed and compacted into something much more solid. The feeling seared through your chest.
It was different with someone else. Coming was different with someone else. It felt so much better with someone else.
You couldn’t say if it was always like that, because Joel was the only one that had ever really even attempted it.
Maybe it was just Joel that did you in, that untied your knots and broke apart your insides to find out what made you tick. Like a tinkerer deep inside beloved clockwork.
You expected what you’d come to know, the unimpressive and very brief—and sometimes painful because you were fucking dry—intrusion of fingers, before he stuck his dick in you for less than five minutes. Groaned about how good you felt, how tight, before rolling away.
Embarrassing, but true to almost every experience you’d had.
But Joel.
Joel felt how wet you were and groaned, a deep and pained sound.
Joel asked you, begged you, to let him touch you.
Joel wanted to put his head between your legs. He was hungry for you, wanted to live there, nestled between your thighs, nose buried in the curls of your sex. His tongue went inside you and he groaned, deep and guttural when he did and you clenched around him, back arched off the bed.
His hands held your legs apart. He thumbed gentle circles into your skin, divoted fingerprints into the malleable, soft flesh of your thighs.
His hands were warm but all you could think about was a picture you’d seen once, of a statue—a man’s veined hand on the marble thigh of a woman, so lifelike it felt intimate to gaze at. The stone man gazed up at the stone woman, benevolence and reverence in his gaze.
Joel’s hand looked like that on your skin, like artful, dimpled flesh beneath a solid hand.
Pussy drunk. He was drunk on you, lapping at you like you were the last goddess left on a scorched earth, brow furrowed, lips plump and swollen, coated with you.
Maybe it wasn’t different with a partner, maybe it was just different with Joel.
He was loud in the pleasure it gave him to be graced with the ocean of your body. He moaned into you, like the salt of you was not like every other person’s taste. He mumbled praises. He said you tasted good, he said you were doing so good my sweet girl, so good, honey, this all for me?
Your body gave endlessly to him, and Joel took it all. Greedy. Hoarding you.
The sound of how wet you were made the tightened, collapsed slats of your ribs catch flame. The feeling burned through your chest, sparked his name like tinder from your mouth.
Something new sprouted up in the razed ashes of it though, a forest that demanded attention and care, a need that seared you from the inside out. And Joel was more than happy to help it grow. He was more than happy to care for you. He groaned when you came, unaware that someone else giving you an orgasm was an entirely new experience.
That just that alone was almost too much.
You shook.
Joel only spread you wider, hooked your leg over his shoulder, pressed your other leg back flat with firm fingers, and kept going until another orgasm shattered through you, until you gushed over his mouth.
He seemed to like the flood of you, and so the shame that threatens to sink clawed talons into you didn’t last.
When he looked up, his eyes were dark, the color of a starless night, fathomless, bottomless wells, beckoning you to him like a siren spell. You would take the willing first step into those waters, into that abyss. Happily. You would happily do it.
He looked sated, like that was enough. Like he would never hunger again. Like your essence dripping from the soft grays of his facial hair was enough. Like you alone were enough.
So, after all of it—
When he took you apart on his fingers, one at a time until you were stretched wide around three, and he muttered under his breath about makin’ sure you’re ready for me darlin’ —he made you come again.
After that, he made you come when he—
Pushed into you so nice and slow, drawling low and thick about how you can take it, honey, doin’ so good sweet girl, you look so good gettin’ split open on my cock. And then he made you come again and again and again—
When the pleasure finally turned you boneless and weak and you begged—you begged and begged and begged for him to come too. He promised he would, he would give you what you want, sweetheart. I know. You did so good. Been so good for me.
Joel pulled out of you and came on your belly.
You swept your fingers through it while he groaned above you, spreading it over your skin until his hand snatched at your wrist and pulled your hand away so he could lick your fingers clean and settle you into his arms, stickiness be damned. The state of the sheets be damned.
He held you. He didn’t roll away, he didn’t fall asleep.
It was only then, that the tears came sudden and fast. They welled up and spilled over. They trailed down your cheeks before you could stop them, rolling onto the beating heart of the man next to you, siphoning down onto the little watered forest of his own soul, bruised and bright.
“What’s wrong?” He was cradling your face, swiping at your cheeks. Worry etched into lined skin. Worried, he was so worried. “Was I too much? Did I hurt you?”
No, not hurt.
You shook your head, and your voice was pathetic when it tripped over your tongue on its way out of your mouth.
“I’m overwhelmed,” you managed, and his eyes darkened, clearly reading the tone of your voice wrong, reading the word you chose to describe the full, choking feeling in your chest wrong. “In a good way,” you hurried to explain. “No one has ever made me come before,” you admitted against your better judgment.
It was possible for him, then, to realize that maybe there was something wrong with you, afterall.
Joel paused.
His brow furrowed. “You mean that many times—”
No one said he was a man above a little bragging. “No,” you laughed wetly, with shame. With heat tearing a hole in your lungs. The fire his name started still burning. “At all.”
“Serious?” You couldn’t decide on his tone.
“So very,” you breathed. “They all just kinda stuck it in.”
He frowned. “Really?”
“Well,” you admitted, “Sometimes their fingers first. A little.”
“That’s what’s got you cryin’?” He attempted teasing you. “I made you come too many times?” His voice was a chuckle in your ear, like the hum of a beehive, like the brush of a breeze through crisp, decaying leaves.
You wrinkled your nose and buried your face in his shoulder, embarrassed and still crying, still overwhelmed, like you couldn’t quite catch your breath. You couldn’t fault him for laughing though. It was ridiculous.
Joel cupped the side of your face, lifted your head. “Hey,” he said. He wasn’t laughing anymore, his expression sombered. “Did they hurt you?”
You squirmed and shrugged. “Not really. I couldn’t…maybe I should have been better at saying what I wanted. But they always seemed to just want it to be…over with.” The admission felt heavy in your chest, shameful somehow. It wasn’t like you’d told Joel what you wanted either.
“If they were any good to ya,” he tipped his head closer to yours. “They woulda known and done somethin’ about it.” His eyes flicked over you. “They never ate this pretty pussy?”
Your eyelids fluttered as Joel dragged his knuckles down your side. “No.”
“Their fuckin’ loss,” he growled. “I can’t wait to put my mouth back on you. All of it, sweetheart, is their loss.”
You shivered, tiny tears still slipping down your cheek. “You made me feel so good, Joel,” you hummed, the small compliment all you could manage.
He turned, pressed you back into the sheets, his nose dipping along your collarbone, the hollow of your throat. “And your pussy is so easy to make come, baby. I mean that in an admirin’ way. If they didn’t make you come, they weren’t tryin’ to at all.”
“J-Joel,” you stammered as his hands traversed your body again. “I’m too—I can’t again.”
He rolled his hips slowly against yours. His cock was still soft.
But he looked so pretty above you. The bulge of muscle in his biceps rippled, his mouth teased along your throat. “Why not?” He asked. “I got a lot of makin’ up to do.”
The familiar thrill and roll of anticipation shivered up your spine. His chest brushes yours. “You’re s’damn sensitive, honey. I gotta know all the ways I can make you come.”
“Too sensitive,” you remarked. “Please, baby,” you cupped his face in your hands, pulled him away from where he was nosing slowly lower, to your chest, your pebbled nipples. “I promise to let you find out. But later.”
Truth be told, you were sore. You ached, in all the ways a person could. You needed to recover from him, just a little.
He stared at you, relenting, somehow sensing that. “Alright, honey,” he agreed softly, kissing you instead. “Did y’keep count?”
Heat flooded your chest, chased the lingering dregs of whatever sharp things other people had left lodged in your chest away. There was only Joel now. There was only room for Joel. “No.”
He tsked, his voice low. “Hm. We’ll have to start over then.”
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JEALOUSLY p.2 | m.a
jealously
Wednesday Addams watched Y/N from afar as if she had been ensnared by a spell. The fairy sat under a majestic tree, its foliage filtering the golden sunlight, enveloping her in an angelic and hypnotic aura. Sunbeams danced through the leaves, creating patterns of light that caressed her soft brown curls, making them shine like dark wood strands bathed in the morning dew.
With almost obsessive attention, Wednesday noticed every little detail: the delicate curve of her neck, the long, dark lashes that gracefully opened and closed as she read, her tongue that, at regular intervals, lightly grazed her lower lip in concentration. When something in the book intrigued her, her eyes would light up, a vibrant gleam that turned her beauty into enchantment. Y/N had her unique way of reading, a fascinating ritual. With nimble fingers, she turned the pages gracefully, sometimes delicately underlining the words that struck her the most. Her usually serene face came alive with a radiant expression of joy when she found a particularly touching sentence. Wednesday couldn't help but notice Y/N's small absentminded gestures, her fingers playing with strands of hair, gently touching the book cover, or toying with a blade of grass. It was as if the world around her had melted away, her focus solely on the magic of written words.
Wednesday remained there, admiring the scene with fascinated eyes, as if she had been transported to an enchanted world. It was a vision of beauty and grace that she would never forget.
Wednesday was consumed by an uncontrollable jealousy towards that book. Her jealousy was extreme, fueled by the way Y/N caressed it with her fingers. She ardently wished that those fingers would explore her body, entwine in her hair after every passionate kiss. Unconsciously, she bit her lower lip as she imagined Y/N on top of her, kissing her passionately and penetrating her with her fingers.
From being as cold as a stone statue, Wednesday had suddenly become a burning flame of passion.
"Obsession Addams is the only solution"she thought to herself.
Her eyes continued to enjoy the sight of Y/N, admiring her as if she were looking at the most beautiful painting exhibited in an art gallery. A deep sigh escaped from her lips, a lament of uncontainable desire.
Suddenly, Wednesday felt her blood freeze in her veins when she saw Xavier approaching her. The misunderstood artist from "Nevermore" sat down next to the fairy, causing Y/N to close her book.
A flash of anger flickered in Wednesday 's eyes when she saw Xavier push a strand of hair away from T/N's face during their brief interaction.
How dare he touch what she considered hers? How dare he touch her?
Wednesday clenched her teeth violently, and a growl erupted from the depths of her throat. Her blood boiled, and a fiery blaze burned in her stomach. Her fingers clenched into a fist as she struggled to control her immense anger.
That useless boy was about to experience her wrath.
Finally, she rose from her hiding place and hurriedly made her way towards her Beloved, who still didn't know she was hers. Y/N turned to her, wearing a confused smile at the unexpected visit from the ravenette. Xavier stopped laughing when he met Wednesday 's gaze, which radiated a chilling darkness.
"Oh, hello, Wed," the fairy exclaimed as she got up from the grass and quickly brushed off her uniform.
Every word Y/N spoke made Wednesday Addams feel like her heart was about to explode. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to regain the composure that her trembling knees had taken from her. She sighed deeply, maintaining an impassive expression as she looked at her fairy.
"Do you need anything?" Y/N asked, confused but also slightly excited. It seemed that she was finally having some kind of conversation with her crush, someone she had secretly admired for weeks.
Wednesday decided to get straight to the point, without mincing words. "See you tonight. Here. At 9 o'clock," she said with a determined tone, before turning around and walking towards the academy's entrance. The fairy looked at the silhouette of Wednesday walking away with confusion; their conversation had been brief and enigmatic.
However, Y/N had no intention of letting this opportunity slip away. Excitement and anticipation mixed in her chest as she mentally prepared herself for the upcoming date.
At exactly 8:30, Wednesday was already on her way to the rendezvous point, but she had an important matter to resolve first. Cautiously, she looked around for signs of life, ensuring that no one was watching her as she headed to Xavier's not-so-secret hiding place. The raven-haired girl sighed and silently entered the shed, where she knew she would find him.
Inside the shed, Xavier had his back turned, completely absorbed in his painting. His face lit up with a smile when he felt the door close behind him.
"Hello, Y/N, you know..." he began to say before he turned around, but his voice trailed off when he met Wednesday Addams' piercing gaze.
Something was clearly wrong, and Xavier felt uncomfortable under the ravenette's intense scrutiny. Instinctively, he took a step back.
Did he just say "Y/N"?
With a mocking smile on her lips, Wednesday slowly approached Xavier.
"So... you were expecting Y/N?" She asked with an innocent tone as she traced her fingers over the hanging paintings on the wall. A fire burned in her guts as she remembered the bastard touching her fairy. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Xavier noticed that the girl was wearing gloves, which increased his unease. He audibly swallowed.
Wednesday advanced towards Xavier, picked up a forgotten brush from the table, and drove it into the boy's thigh. A cry of pain escaped from Xavier's lips as he doubled over from the sudden and sharp pain.
Wednesday clenched her jaw tightly, applying more pressure to the open wound. Xavier, with pleading eyes, looked at the ravenette. Wednesday could feel the fear in his eyes, and she found it highly amusing.
"Why did you do it?" Xavier whimpered, struggling to hold back tears as he stuttered from the pain.
"She is mine. The next time you touch her, I'll stab it in your neck, not your thigh" Wednesday said in a low and threatening tone. Xavier nodded in desperation, making gestures to show he understood.
Wednesday got up and walked away from the boy, who was at that moment trying to remove the brush from his leg. With a victorious smile on her lips, Wednesday left the shed, removed her gloves, and put them in her backpack.
The night was taking an unexpected turn, and Wednesday was determined to ensure that Y/N was safe from any threat.
(...)
"Sorry for the delay" Wednesday said with a slight discomfort in her voice. The fairy turned to her and returned a nervous smile.
"Don't worry... you're right on time" Y/N replied simply, her eyes meeting Wednesday's. Addams looked away, feeling nervous about the intensity of her Beloved's gaze.
"Are you ready?" Wednesday asked with a smile as she took Y/N's hand, interlocking their fingers.
The heart of the raven-haired girl was beating strongly against her chest as she enjoyed the pleasurable contact of their entwined hands. She fervently wished that this touch would never fade away.
However, Y/N furrowed her brow when she noticed a red stain on Wednesday's right cheek. Without thinking twice, she raised her thumb and wiped the stain from her cheek. Wednesday sighed, feeling the warmth of her touch.
"Thanks. It's paint" Addams affirmed, offering a small smile, relieved that she could come up with an excuse quickly. She couldn't admit that it was Xavier's blood.
Unable to resist her impulses, the raven-haired girl leaned in to kiss her Beloved gently. Y/N's eyes widened in surprise as she felt Wednesday 's cold lips against hers, but she quickly surrendered to the kiss, smiling at the long-awaited magical moment.
Wednesday caressed Y/N's cheek, enjoying the softness of her skin and the deliciousness of her lips, which immediately became her addiction. She made a small smile when she noticed that the fairy's eyelids remained closed and her lips slightly parted.
"Let's go... I'll take you to a special place, Cara Mia" wednesday whispered, pronouncing the Italian nickname while smiling as she noticed the blush on the girl's cheeks.
Y/N didn't hesitate to take Wednesday's hand. She had complete trust in her, not only because she felt safe and protected but also because she knew that Addams would do everything possible to make her feel comfortable.
Wednesday tightened her grip, fearing that her Beloved might pull away. She hadn't stabbed Xavier in vain; Y/N was supposed to be hers, and the whole school had to know it if they didn't want to face her wrath.
#jenna ortega x reader#wednesday addams x reader#jenna ortega#jenna ortega x you#jenna ortega x y/n#jenna ortega x fem!reader#miércoles addams#wednesday x you#wednesday addams x you#merlina addams#wednesday addams gifs
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Pro-hero!Bakugo x Bimbo secretary!reader
Minors DNI!!! No age in bio and you get blocked
Word count: 5.4k
Content: Boss x employee, Reader is both a bimbo and a bit of a perv, Bakugo is soft for reader and a soft dom, lots of consent and fluff, head pats as a kind of love language, f and m masturbation, imagined freeuse scenario, imagined exhibition, phone sex, exchanging fantasies (office sex, possessiveness, blowjob, eating reader out), actual sex, praise, oral f!receiving, unprotected sex, brief pain from sex
Author’s note: Good to be back. Also this is looking like one of the shorter piece I plan on posting this summer.
Kirishima hires you for Bakugo since you’re so nice and sweet. Both as a little prank, but also to help his friend’s brutish image. You show up bright and early, bring flowers for Bakugo’s office and for your desk just outside. Pink pens, a pink keyboard, and a fresh manicure.
At first Bakugo was frustrated that there seemed to be nothing going on in your head. You couldn’t hold more than one task or you’d get confused. He catches you talking to friends on the phone, filing your nails, and chatting with anyone in the office. By any normal measure, you were a horrible employee. But you didn’t care. When you talked it was because you wanted to know people, listen to their problems. Sure, you forgot to send emails, didn’t make enough copies, and changed the filing system every other week. You brought baked goods for the employees at random intervals and whatever group went to lunch with you always came back late.
“From now on, lunch with me.” He can’t keep having people come in late, so he takes it upon himself to limit your ability to influence them. Only then, it’s him who comes back fifteen minutes late. You were in the middle of a story or saw something in a window. You stop and look at every dog. The worst instance was when you dragged him to a cat cafe for thirty minutes. Well, he can’t deny that he always comes back refreshed. Started looking forward to his lunches and stopped in front of your desk just to find out the place you would take him to this time.
Despite this and the ample time for you to settle into the work environment, you just couldn’t get the hang of it. Whenever Bakugo went to yell or scold you, you would pout and say, “I thought I got it right this time.” How could he stay mad? Instead he patted your head and asked you to get him water or coffee. Something you were all too eager to do. When you brought him his drink, you asked about patrols or missions giving Bakugo a chance to talk through them. Even voiced his concerns which he never did. You were happy to listen, only offering advice when he asked and leading him to feel more at ease, less fixated on his work. Yeah, he wasn’t letting you go.
It helped that everyone loved you. Every employee, every visitor could only fawn over Bakugo’s cute secretary. Though, he noticed no matter how many offered to take you on dates, you politely declined.
As the months went by Bakugo learns how you operate. You stay by his side talking about anything and everything of interest to you. He looked forward to listening to you and keeping up with whatever caught your fancy. When he needs you to do something, he writes it out and when you come back to him smiling, he always rewards you. Normally, Bakugo takes you out for dinner or gets you a hot chocolate to drink at the office or for you to have an excuse to invite him into your apartment.
What he loved most about you was that no matter what, you were there for him. You listened to his issues. When his anger got the better of him, you never took it to heart and instead stayed with him while he cooled down. You were happy to talk to him whether he responded or not, and you learned his tells, when he was tired or wanted the conversion to end.
It was true you were no mathematician and maybe you weren’t that great of a secretary, but Bakugo couldn’t imagine his life or the office without you.
After every mission he returned to the office, you at your desk, waiting against the soft glow of your computer playing some show. Bakugo has lost track of how many times he’s told you to go home after the work day ends, only to face another of your pouts.
“I'm just taking care of you.” You’d say as if you didn’t know what that did to him. How your words haunted him during his ride home. While he warmed up dinner and then called you while he ate because he missed you.
“You can’t do anything without me,” you’d tease. Jokingly he’d hang up and then immediately call back. Listening to your laugh when you picked up.
“I sleep without you just fine.” He’d stab his food as he bitterly accepted that reality.
“I guess that means it could be better,” you’d say and this was the part where one of you puts a stop to the conversation going further. “Goodnight, Katsuki. Counting sheep helps.”
Suffice to say he doesn’t count sheep. Fisting his cock or rutting against the mattress picturing your face screwed up in ecstasy. Moving his hips against a pillow, feeling the precum soil everything, but all he could think about was your perfect pussy taking him and you moaning for more until he was utterly exhausted, grinding out of sheer overstimulation. Afterwards, he’d chide himself for being so pathetic, for thinking about you that way.
Not that you were any better. It should have been shameful, how you grind against your own pillows imagining it’s your boss’s face. You work yourself into a frenzy imagining catching him jerking off in his office and going to help. Or stuffing your fingers into your cunt thinking about having a quickie with Bakugo before he has a meeting with execs unaware you’d fucked their boss on that very table.
Shame wasn’t exactly an emotion you felt. You loved work, really, everyone was so nice, but you also wouldn’t mind Bakugo keeping you away and all to himself. Of course, it’s your hormone-covered brain speaking, but you can’t help getting off to the thought of cockwarming Bakugo while he takes an important call. Him asking you to suck him off because he’s so stressed, and if it’s really bad, you think about him fucking you against his office door for anyone to hear.
You walk into the office and see Bakugo waiting at your desk. Smiling dreamily and secretly thanking him for the way he turns you on.
“Good morning, sir. Is there anything I can do for you?” You sit down at your desk, aware he has a full shot of your cleavage. You can’t help but lean closer as he speaks. He coughs a little and hurries his sentences along watching you slowly process the words and then drop your arms in defeat.
“What?” You say too loudly. A whole week? He was going to be away for a whole week?
You fumble for a way to recover. To pull out a flirty remark or ask for him to clarify again. Anything to keep yourself from looking like an emotional mess, especially in front of Bakugo. “But…can I come with you?” You ask hopeful, but that hope shrivels up as Bakugo lets out a sigh. He pats your head and it’s the final straw before a silent tear slips out.
Yes, you were a horny mess, but only because you did really care about Bakugo. He always let you speak and actually took what you were saying seriously. If you mentioned a new restaurant Bakugo would take you that week. If there was a show you watched while you waited for him, he’d pull up a chair and watch the last thirty minutes with you. He never laughed when you made mistakes, he never complained when you got overwhelmed. And yes he petted your head like a dog, but it made you feel appreciated or at least you knew it was his way of saying he cared. He cared in the way of getting your throat lashes and tissues when you had a cold, keeping a blanket so you could bundle up while you waited, and always driving you home. Could anyone blame you for caring so much for him, for wanting to be the person Bakugo came to for everything.
He hushes you while dabbing a tissue under your eye and the other hand holding your chin steady.
“Won’t you need my help?” You ask again in a last ditch attempt to prevent being separated. He whispers your name.
“Of course, I need you. I just can’t take you this time,” he says. Bakugo gently caresses your cheek, going back to catch any stray tears. As always, you see not a trace of judgment. It’s the final push to make the confession.
“I need you too. I’ll miss-” You close your eyes and let out a short laugh. “Dammit, I can’t actually be having separation anxiety. You’re my boss. That would be so dumb.”
“You’re not dumb.” His tone was stern. Carefully, Bakugo looks around to make sure no one can overhear. “I’ll miss you too, so text me and I’ll call everyday if you want. Besides, I think we can at least call each other friends.” You can’t help but shoot out of your chair and go to give him a hug. He lets you, even returning it by rubbing your back in small circles. Once you pull away, you go back to your desk and Bakugo picks up his bag and prepares to head out.
“Make sure to call. Everyday, Katsuki,” you say. He turns, smiles and walks out.
He keeps his promise. Texts good morning and goodnight. Calls everyday. Texts at every meal. Your conversations weren’t about work. He told you about his childhood, the entitlement, the slap in the face when he realized he wasn’t what he had been propped up to be. He told you how much it hurt being small, the fear he had about never getting back to the person he promised to become. Realizing he didn’t want to be that anymore. You tell him about your own struggle growing up and always feeling lost, like you were stumbling in a desert storm. Like you were being kept away from a secret everyone else was in on. You told him how much you hated not understanding, being made fun of because of it. The worst was the painful awaking you would have when the niceness of others was a cheap attempt to get into your pants.
“I guess after a while, I just started blocking it out. The stares and hands. It’s easier that way.” You told him through the phone. The clock showed the late hour, but neither of you have the strength to hang up.
“You didn’t deserve that. I’ve met a lot of people and you outshine them all.” You smile against your screen.
“C’mon. You’re flattering me.” His heavy and tired chuckle hits you like a cool breeze on a summer day. Familiar and welcome.
“Nah, I’ve seen the way you make people feel at ease. Everyone wants to be around you, get a little bit of that light you have.” You don’t realize it when you fall asleep, but Bakugo stays listening to your breathing. Wishing more than anything he was there in person, holding you and soothing every doubt you’ve ever had. The desire burns him so hard, he has to calm the hole in his gut and with every ounce of strength, he ends the call.
The next night you lay restless. Bakugo would’ve called by now, but he texted and told you he had a stupid work dinner running late. So instead you run back over what he told you last night. And your mind wanders to other things he’s said with his gravely and stern voice. The one time you wrote an entire report on your own and while Bakugo reviewed it, he patted your head and said “You did well. I should reward you, you deserve it.” His voice had been so low, but his touch was gentle. You wanted it, wanted even more. Running your hands down your body and hearing his rough cadence playing like a broken record. You wanted to show up in his hotel room wearing something red. Have Bakugo come back, see you and tear the fabric from your body. Your pussy throbbed with the idea of him picking you up, throwing you on the bed and having his way.
Such a pretty pussy
So dumb for me aren’t you babygirl? Dumb for my cock
You whimper at your own unconscious desire, your fingers working your clit. The phone ringer interrupts. Fuck. You were so close. His name lights up and before you think about the situation you’re in, you answer.
“Katsuki.” You say, breathless. Sweat sticks to your skin, your pussy clenches around nothing and silently begs you to finish. He says your name, slightly alarmed.
“Everything okay?”
“Yea, yea. Why wouldn’t it be?” You respond, readjusting yourself. Bakugo waits for a beat.
“Are you with someone?” You don’t miss his seething. He thinks you’re cheating- or, wait- you can’t be cheating if you’re not together.
“No. I’m alone.” You say, still slightly out of breath and dazed from being so close to orgasm. The room was still dark and the setting made you feel exposed. Last night was intimate, an openness you cherished. Now, you were sinking into embarrassment with no lifeboat in sight.
“It’s a little late to be working out, isn’t it.” He waits for your response, but you’re speechless. His tone was still grating and you weren’t used to anything resembling a scolding.
“I wasn’t doing anything wrong,” you say in defense, eyes welling up with tears.
“Then tell me what you were doing. I won’t be mad,” he says and you believe him. Shifting a little in your sitting position you cross your arms and mutter out.
“I was just missing you.” It’s high-pitched and a bit needy, enough for Bakugo to know exactly what he caught his little secretary in the middle of. For him. You were touching yourself to him. Bakugo thinks about getting on a plane right then and there. You need him, it’s like the elixir of life held just out of reach. He swears beneath his breath.
“Did you finish?” You hear him swallow. It made sense, this was crossing the invisible, but sturdy line. It was beyond his previous ‘friend’ statement. But you were tired of holding yourself away from Bakugo.
“I tried, but I couldn’t,” You lay back down among your pillows.
“Well, I guess we need to fix that. Don’t we, baby?” You whine in affirmation to his question. Shamelessly rubbing your legs together when Bakugo hums in thought. He chuckles and you hear him sit down somewhere. It reminds you that this was a two-way street and you wanted so bad to drive him down with you.
“Katsuki, I tried so hard, you know,”
“Yea? Tell me about it. What did you think about?” You smile. Then you remember what you were thinking about and the expression drops. What if he thought you were too perverted? What if he hated what you got off on? “What’s wrong? Is it too much?”
“No, no.” You say hastily. “I think maybe I’ll be too much. I’m scared you’ll think I’m too dirty.”
“I promise there’s nothing that will scare me off, but if you’re nervous just take it slow.” His words reassure you and momentarily you wonder if this was truly happening. “It’s happening. Tell me, baby, what do you imagine when you miss me?” His tone was teasing, but there was a simmer beneath it. Beckoning you to give away your secrets.
“The office. I imagine giving you another report I’ve messed up, but instead of how kind you always are… I imagine you angry. That you need to get it through my head, what I’m supposed to do for you.” It suddenly strikes you as a cliche, something he might have watched a thousand times, but his groan clears away your doubt.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” He says, “So what? You imagine me taking you over my leg and spanking you?” You shake your head, even though he can’t see.
“No, no. I’m a little scared of spanking. Instead you have me kneel by your desk and… um… you have me focus on stroking and sucking your dick.” You clamp your hand over your mouth and close your eyes as regret consumes you. Embarrassment and worst of all, fear that this was the end. He says your name, it’s so hoarse you almost miss it.
“I’m so fuckin’ hard right now. I’d sell my soul for you to be here and do just that. Suck my cock while I hold your hair, milk me for all my cum, would that be alright?” Your hand slips back down, fingers circling your clit. You hear Bakugo’s breathing pick up and figure he’s lost all rationale as well.
“Yes, God, yes. I want you to cum down my throat or cum on my face. In my panties, so I can walk around and no one else knows what you’ve done to me.”
“Don’t talk like that or I’ll come right now.” You mewl at his desperate tone, imagine the way his muscles must be tensing up. You would love to ride his big thighs right now and tell him as much.
“Yea, you could do that all day. I wouldn’t give a fuck about work, all I want is you grinding on me. Would love to come back from a mission and get under your desk and have you grind your pussy on my face while you watch your shows. You’d let me, right, baby?” Your fingers work inside you, your hips buck involuntarily at the filthy image he’s given you.
“Yes, oh my god. I want to warm your cock, Katsuki. Just stay there while you take calls, hell-while you’re in meetings and everyone can see that I’m the one taking care of you.”
You hear him groan your name and desperate moans escape him as his orgasm crashes down as you seal away the image that could satiate him for life. You were his, he decided then. He wouldn’t hold back, he wouldn’t stop until you both had each other. In the throes of his own orgasm he hears your pants. Moans and sputtered out words that carried no real meaning.
“C’mon, baby, you can do it. Be my pretty girl and cum. You deserve it, you deserve everything.” And you listen, coming all over your fingers wishing it was him here.
“Two days and I’m coming straight to you. I want you so bad. Are you okay with that?”
“Hurry, please.”
Over the next two days you both keep in constant contact. He texted and called every spare moment. It wasn’t a drastic change, something you secretly feared, that he just wanted to sleep with you.
“And we can go to Viola’s for dinner on Saturday. What time works best for you?” He’d asked while in the car driving to his three o’clock debrief. He had every intention of letting you know how serious he was about your relationship. You hummed into the speaker and typed away at your desk. He flew home tomorrow and you couldn’t wait anymore.
When he arrived and drove to your apartment, you nearly cried from excitement and nerves. You wore a black silk slip dress and black underwear, knowing this way you would feel sexy and comfortable. Bakugo had barely knocked when you opened the door and threw yourself into his arms.
“I missed you. I missed you,” You say. Bakugo kissed your forehead and breathed you in.
“I don’t know if I can do another long mission.” He confesses as you pull him into your apartment and drop him onto the couch. You plop onto his lap and curl your fingers into the hair at the base of his scalp. Stroking and scratching in a hopefully soothing manner. Instead, you feel him beneath you.
“I would tell you to tell me everything, but I don’t think I have the patience for it.” You say, taking a shuddering breath after shifting and “accidently” grinding against him.
“Honestly, you already know everything that happened,” he says while tucking some hair away from your face. “If only you knew how hard it’s been to not leave early and come see you.” You smirk and lean down to whisper.
“I think I know exactly how hard it’s been.” Grinding against his cock while Bakugo’s hands find your hips, memorizing your movements. You cup his cheek and wait for him to lean toward you before sealing his lips. Both of you meet each other with eager movements. Bakugo explores your mouth, licking and savoring you. You took him in stride and sucked on his tongue, trying to siphon him into you and never leave. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer. Pressing against his shirt, you shove it up and over his head, running your hands along his abs. You pause and trace his scars before leaning down and kissing each of them.
“You’re so strong.” Against you, he shivers and runs his hand along your spine, thumbing the hem of your dress. “So beautiful. I’m so happy I met you,” you say while taking off your slip dress. He pulls you back in, urgently and crashes his lips to yours. Now, you each try to communicate a feeling bigger than words. The feeling vibrates around you both, caging you in.
“So lucky I have you,” he murmurs as you both slow back down, not disturbing this cocoon you’ve built. “I never want another day where you’re not by my side.” He gives you a chaste kiss. “Not a day where you don’t update me on the Housewives.” You laugh as he gives you another small kiss.
“Are we going too fast? I mean I feel like you get me and I don’t want this to be a one time thing because it would really crush me, Katsuki. I really really like you.” He kisses your temple.
“Shut up. I’m so serious about you, it hurts sometimes to think about how much I–listen I might not know how to explain it yet. Just be my girlfriend?” He sounded unsure, but there was no reason. You kiss his face over and over again, chanting yes.
“Can you fuck me now?” You somehow make it sound innocent and Bakugo leans his head back with the knowledge that you were both the best thing in his life and the one who could destroy him.
“Yea, I can. Do you want to go to the bedroom?” He’s trying to hold it together, but you look up in contemplation and he wonders if he’s made a mistake. You think about whether getting up would ruin the mood or if going to the bedroom would be better because of space. Bakugo grabs your chin. “Baby. Bedroom? Yes or no.” You grow addicted to the simmer in his eyes.
“Yes,” You say, already in the air as he carries you, following as you point out the way. He lays you out on the mattress and begins unbuckling his pants, kissing you between the movements. He finally gets them off and you were both now in your underwear.
Out of respect he had never been in your bedroom. Bakugo looks around taking in the little trinkets and decorations you found meaningful. He eyes a few stuffed animals behind you, placed carefully against the pillows. You follow his eyesight and naturally gasp at his discovery.
“Let me put them away.” You move back and grab your bear, your bunny, and your fox.
���It’s okay. I’m not judging. It’s cute you still have them,” Bakugo says trying to calm you as you bring them over to your dresser. Setting them facing away.
“I know you’re not judging, but I can’t have them watching.” You walk back over, jumping on the bed and giggling as the warmth of the room grows out from between you both. Katsuki pulls you into him gently and holds you against him. Letting your bodies get acquainted and slowly tracing over the small scar on your arm, the stretch marks on your hips and thighs. Ghosting his fingers over your bra all with a content smile that you watch. Reaching back you unclip your bra and let it fall down your arms. Bakugo inhales sharply. It’s you who brings his hand to touch you and melts when he kneads the flesh. Pinches your nipples with his calloused hands, finding the right way to make you feel good.
“Katsuki, kiss me.” Always needy, but he loves it. Of course he obeys. Kissing you and then guiding you to lay beneath him. Leaving your lips for your jaw and then down your throat, making sure to leave a hickey because you’re his now. He kisses your breasts and your stomach all while you card a hand through his hair. Stopping at your underwear, he looks up in question. You shove them down, all too eager for Katsuki to do whatever he wants.
He touches you gently, a single finger slowly moving along your slit. Katsuki kisses you as you moan because he wants all of you. Everything you have to offer, he will be your willing acolyte. You reach for him, grabbing him closer. Taking his hand and guiding it to go faster. He gives you more, stroking your clit, moving in circles like you show him. You moan when he applies more pressure and then releases; a slow ebb as he builds the tide.
“I want you, Katsuki.” You whine and set a finger against the waistband of his underwear. “You made me wait a whole week. Can’t wait anymore.”
“Are you wet enough? Don’t want to hurt my pretty girl.” He kisses the side of your head in a sickeningly sweet way. An exaggerated kissing sound follows until you laugh and pull away.
“I’m so wet,” you say, exaggerating the seductive tone and laughing when he rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, baby, I can feel it.” He dips his fingers inside of you, his other hand grazing your breasts and down your side. You stop laughing. “All for me, huh?”
“Well, I guess you deserve a reward for saving so many people.” Rolling your eyes and crossing your arms in a way that lets him know you’re still joking.
“Seeing you is the best reward.” He taps your nose.
“Sir, if you don’t get naked right now I will–”
“You’ll what?” He grins, leaning down to your ear. “If anything, I’ll give you another task at work. Hmm, didn’t you say something about crawling under my desk?” He takes off his underwear and your mouth goes dry. His dick was bigger than anything you’ve ever had before. It didn’t matter. A deep breath and you could take him. He lined himself up with you as you lay down curling your toes to relax every muscle. A slight prod, a tiny intrusion and then pain. Something too big trying to fit inside.
“Katsuki,” you moan, but it’s strained even to your ears. At the same time your hands clamp down on his shoulders. He pulls out.
“Are you okay? What’s wrong, baby? Talk to me.”He caresses your cheek and angles you toward him, flinching when he sees your eyes teary.
“Sorry, I didn’t think it would hurt.” You try to look away again, but Bakugo lays down beside you, pulling you to his chest. A dread creeps up on him, looks over his shoulder and whispers what he hadn’t stopped to consider before.
“Have you had sex before?” You can see him swallow, a crease form on his beautiful face.
“I have. They just weren’t as big.”
He should feel elated or proud. Some sort of satisfaction symptomatic of masculinity. He can’t. How could he when he has caused you pain? In this moment, he wanted everything to be gentle and loving just like you.
“Do we need to stop? I don’t want to hurt you. We can watch a movie or talk.” Bakugo leans his forehead against yours, his hands still holding you as close as you can be. Brushing away your worries.
“I think I have some lube somewhere.” You mean to get up, but he holds on.
“Can I eat you out?” He sits up when you nod. A calculating look on his face. You knew it well, his determination and though he’d never admit it, his perfectionism. He kisses your thighs, groaning when you curl your fingers through his hair. Katsuki tries to take his time and worship your body the way you deserve, but it had been seven long days and you were the only thing pushing him to come back home as quickly as possible.
A slow lick along your slit and he’s in heaven. Once more and then one more time, savoring this moment that he’s gotten off to countless times. He holds your thighs open and sucks in earnest. From your opening to your clit, he takes whatever his lips touch. Listening as your pants turn into breathy whine and moans. Feeling your body shudder and your clit harden against him. He shifts your thighs over his shoulders, pulls your hips closer for a better angle. He works a finger inside you, smirking at you covering your face.
“Don’t hide from me, Angel.” He goes back to working you open, patient as your walls adjust to the intrusions. You touch your breasts and get more stimulation, slowly becoming more desperate that Katsuki wasn’t inside of you yet.
“I’m sorry,” you mumble out, “I know this isn’t what you imagined.” The grip on your hip falters. He pauses his movements and watches you, disbelief shining in his eyes.
“It’s better than anything I could imagine.” Again, determination seizes him. “You’re better than anything…It kills me when you’re so hard on yourself.” He brings his body up and kisses your lips, smiling and nuzzling your cheek. “I don’t want the perfect girl you think you need to be. I want you as you are. Is that clear?” He playfully taps your forehead.
“Even when I mess up documents?”
“Especially then.” He kisses you deeply and you return it. Rocking into him and allowing yourself to relax in his strong hold. With three fingers sated inside, he goes back down and sucks on your clit. Pressure building in your core, you rode it up to your high. Falling over the edge, knowing Katsuki had a hold on you.
It’s no longer a want, but a need. As soon as Bakugo angles his cock after using the lube you had and you lean into him. He sinks in slowly, still a stretch for you, but easier than before.
“Take your time, baby. Breathe for me.” You listen to his soothing words. His hips meet yours and a sudden wave of emotions overwhelm you. Every fear of not being what he wanted, how much you talk, the mistakes you make, dissolved. He’s never been mean. Never undermined you or been condescending. Even now, when others in the past have gotten annoyed with how much prep you needed, he’s beside you, unhurried.
Katsuki begins rocking his hips slowly. Responding when you kiss him and keep him close to your chest.
“I’m so happy I work for you.” You let your emotions go. “I’m so happy you’re so nice to me. So happy, Tsuki, so, so happy…” It’s now that Katsuki realizes he was well and truly fucked. How will he ever let go of you? How will he ever go a day without hearing your voice?
“Me too, baby. Fuck, you’re so good to me.” His hips speed up, all while he watches your face for the slightest hint of discomfort. More, he can’t hold back and pounds into you. Fucks himself dumb while watching you dazed and blissed out. A stray tear leaking out and he feels his cock twitch.
“I’m close, baby.” He whimpers against your neck. Kissing your neck, marking it up. You wrap your legs around his waist, trapping him. Your orgasm catches you by surprise, but Bakugo follows as your pussy clenches around him. You both pant hard, your heartbeat thrums against your throat. It takes you a long time to come down and realize Bakugo’s been watching you. He caresses your cheek.
“Let’s stay home tomorrow,” he says, and kisses your nose.
“If you say so,” you pull him in for another kiss.
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A Gun Amongst Daggers - Jake “Hangman” Seresin X Fem!Navy Seal Reader
Part 3: Intel
Summary: When Jake meets a woman at the Hard Deck, the last thing he expects is for her to be a Navy Seal. And not just any Seal, the Commander of Seal Team 3. She’s beautiful, smart, dangerous, and everything about her just makes him want to get close. Her name? Bear. When the Seals need backup, Cyclone puts the Daggers on their radar and now, Jake has to work with Bear and her team, all the while trying to stay professional. Can he do it? Or will he end up falling for the Navy sniper and mission Commander?
*GIF is from Pinterest, not mine*
A/N: Love you all so much, thank you for reading! Part 3 is set immediately after the cut in part 2, so feel free to go back and read part 2 if you forgot what went down!
MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE! 18+ ONLY. MINORS & BLOGS WITH NO AGE/EMPTY BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED.
Warnings: swearing, mentions of death (If missed anything, let me know!)
Word Count: 2.0k
Read on Wattpad or AO3
Masterlist >> Part 2 >> Part 4
===
“I saw that Sir. New intel on al-Hameed’s location?”
“Yep,” he replied. “Satellite imaging confirmed his arrival outside Ash Shamli. Khrushov and Osmund are him.”
Bear blinked in surprise. “Khrushov? Like Mikael Khrushov? The arms dealer?”
Harris nodded. “The very same. Air Force radar in Riyadh noted al-Hameed’s presence two days ago in Saudi.” He paused, grabbing a file off of his desk and began to flip through it. “It’s estimated that the pair and their entourages will be in Saudi Arabia for the foreseeable future as Khrushov is now wanted in Belarus as well as Central and Eastern Europe on several charges of arms dealing, terrorism plots, and more. Osmund, on the other hand, is wanted in over 20 countries for theft of government secrets and is behind several data leaks from major foreign governments.”
“So what does this mean for us?” Bear asked. Scenarios were running through her mind, possible alterations to their plans, supplies, and personnel were now at the forefront. “Will this be a collaboration with the Air Force? Because you know my history with them, Sir.”
“As of now, Commander, we have very little information on what this means. All I can advise you and your team to do is prepare for a joint operation. Extra weapons drills, covert training, the works,” Shark told her, his face grim. “I am assigning your team a detonation expert in the likelihood of you needing them.”
Bear just nodded, her face schooled into the most neutral look she could muster. “One more question. You mentioned a joint operation, who is joining us?”
Rear Admiral Harris nodded. “That is true. The USS Abraham Lincoln is heading out in a few weeks. I believe that Busan is their destination. Our inland target of, well…I trust you to fill everyone in at the meeting tomorrow.” He paused, fingers tapping on the desk in front of him. “Long story short, we have incoming air support to help us with a few fly overs. They have their own mission, but Admiral Simpson has okayed a squadron as backup for a brief interval while we do extra recon and then again as air support.”
She blinked. “Sir, pardon the question. But are we sure that’s wise? Riyadh is a US Air Force base. Navy pilots and the Air Force don’t get along. I’d rather not be caught up in the middle of a military pissing contest.” Bear made eye contact with Rear Admiral Harris and saw that arguing was futile. “I will make plans to speak with the officer in charge asap, Sir. After the meeting tomorrow.”
“See to it that you do, Commander. You have always yielded results, I see no reason for you to disappoint me. You are dismissed.” Harris waved her off as he returned to his paperwork, leaving Bear to retreat from the office.
As she walked off, it felt like her thoughts had been out through a blender. They were scrambled and whirling out of control, but for right now, there was nothing to be done. So she put them aside for the moment and hurried to her car, tossing her stuff inside and heading off to the bar where she would meet Phoenix. God she needed a distraction.
===
For some inane reason, they had gone to the Hard Deck and it appeared that nearly every other Navy member on base had the same idea. “Remind me why we decided to come here?” Bear yelled over the din. She elbowed past a few women, ignoring the indignant yelps and cries of them as she shouldered her way through.
“That was my bad! Sorry!” Phoenix yelled back. “But hey, we can just leave!”
“Grab a drink first? Then outside?”
A thumbs up from Phoenix, and she watched the pilot redirect herself out the door and onto the beach. Bear grimaced at the amount of people around her, the volume of everyone who’d packed themselves into the bar made it hard for her to keep track of everything going on. Sniper’s instinct, her Lieutenant had called it. She was hyper aware of everything around her and it was almost too much.
“You must be Bear!” Penny yelled over the noise, wiping a ring off the bar top. “What can I get you?”
The Seal snorted. Word traveled fast when pilots were involved. “Yep. Can I grab a beer and a lemonade from you?”
“For sure. Your tab?”
Bear gave her a thumbs up, and the older woman passed the drinks over a few minutes later. “There you go.”
“Thanks Penny.” She gave a quick wave before slipping back through the crowd, effectively disappearing. Once outside, Bear took a deep breath, relishing in the fresh air and the lack of noise.
She found Phoenix sitting in the sand a little ways away staring out at the water. “Here.”
“Oh, thanks,” came the reply as the pilot took the offered bottle. “What did you get?”
“Lemonade.”
“I swear sometimes that you and Bob are the same person,” Phoenix said, shaking her head in laughter. “You don’t drink?”
“I try not to,” Bear chuckled, shrugging as she did. “I hate the way alcohol tastes and I really hate the fact that it makes me less aware of what’s going on. But that’s just me.”
Phoenix hummed. “Fair enough.” She took a sip of her drink before setting it down in the sand. “What’s the deal with you and Bagman? Both of you were acting a little weird this afternoon.”
“It’s nothing. Pretty sure he’s just trying to piss me off,” the Seal replied, rolling her eyes. “And I’m not about to let him win.”
“Maybe. But it’s definitely more than that,” the pilot pressed. “I think that he’s into you.”
Bear choked on her lemonade. After a coughing fit, she managed to wheeze out “What?”
“Hangman, Jake, whoever, thinks that you, Bear, the Navy Seal, are hot as fuck and he seems to have a thing for women who have ‘resting murder face’.” Phoenix pointed at the other woman, before continuing. “And you have the best RMF I have ever seen.”
Bear just stared at her friend. “What the fuck Nix?” Disbelief was written all over her face and Bear found herself stunned at how her heart skipped a beat at the mere thought of having the cocky blonde pilot’s attention.
“I’m not wrong. And from your very dramatic reaction, I’d be willing to bet that you think he’s hot too.”
“Umm…you’re very wrong,” Bear spluttered. “But because you’re my friend, I won’t tell you how wrong you are.”
“I’m honored…” Phoenix deadpanned, taking another sip of her drink. “What happened when you left earlier?”
“CO wanted to see me. New intel for our next deployment, other than that, I can’t really say much.”
“Classified?”
“Highly.”
Phoenix nodded, looking back out at the ocean before them. “When do you head out?”
“A few weeks,” Bear replied, sipping her drink. “Heard through the grapevine that you Daggers are about to ship out too. Any idea where?”
“Nope. It’s a mission assist though, could be fun depending on who we get sent out with,” Phoenix commented. “We will meet with them tomorrow. Get a sense of the mission and see how much lifting we have to do.”
Bear opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by a shout. Turning, she saw the rest of the Dagger pilots hurrying across the sand to them. “Oh great,” she pretended to grumble. She had rolled her eyes, but the gesture was fond. “When did you flyboys get here?”
“A few minutes ago,” Fanboy yelled back, beaming at her. “Why? You miss us?”
She pretended to think, humming. “Nah, I do enough babysitting as it is.”
Rooster let out a loud mock gasp, pretending to stumble backwards. “How DARE you?” He screeched breathily.
Bear made eye contact with Phoenix and the pair burst into giggles. “Oh I dare very easily,” she teased, standing up and bumping his arm with hers. “Whatcha doing out here? Thought you’d be the life of the party, Bradshaw.”
“What am I? Chopped liver?” Jake said jokingly as he sidled up to her. She said nothing, choosing to smirk instead. Green eyes met brown and Jake saw the amusement and mischief twinkling in them. “Never mind. Don’t answer that.”
“Smart man.” Bear had turned to look up at him, giving him a teasing smile in response to his words. A cough from Phoenix had Bear narrowing her eyes and giving the pilot a hard look. “No.”
Sensing the sudden burst of tension, Payback spoke up. “So Bear. Are we ever going to get the story behind that?”
“You really want to know?”
“Yes!” A shout rose up from the group of pilots standing around her.
“Fine. Fine,” Bear said, giving in. “I’m called Bear, because I’m a grumpy fuck in the morning.”
A man near the back of the group who she knew to be Harvard spoke up “That’s it? Not some deep dark secret behind it?”
“Why? You don’t believe me?” Bear asked, eyebrow raised.
“We have no proof that that’s even true!” Harvard argued.
“Send Jake in, he’ll get to the bottom of it,” Rooster joked, but his laughter stopped abruptly when he caught sight of the sharp look on Bear’s face.
“More like he’d bottom her,” Coyote whispered to Phoenix, who had to turn away to hide her laughter.
“Hey!” Jake yelled, his face going red. “No. Just no.”
Bear just sent him a wink, laughing to herself as he spluttered indignantly. “Nix told me that you ship out soon. Any idea when? Because I’m out in the next few weeks.”
“Unfortunately due to the classified nature of US Naval deployments, we are unable to provide that information,” Fanboy recited in a serious voice. The tone of his voice made the group crack up, himself included, with Bear rolling her eyes in fondness.
“Okay. Okay. Guess I should have expected that,” she said with a laugh, putting her hands up in mock surrender.
“Just messing with you,” Fanboy replied, still chuckling a little. “Sometime in the next few weeks too. We have a meeting tomorrow about it. Giving us details and shit.”
“Oh fun,” Bear said, eyes shifting around the group. Coyote and Payback had started throwing rocks into the ocean, yelling about how far they could throw, their loud voices seeming to echo around them. Harvard, Halo, and a few of the others had broken off into their own group and seemed to be chatting about nothing in particular. It made her smile at the easy camaraderie between them. She knew how difficult the Navy could be and she was just glad that they had their people around them.
===
Hours later, after night had fallen and the air grew cold, Bear finally stood up and stretched. “I’m heading out guys,” she said, to the protests of a few of the pilots around her. “My meeting is early tomorrow morning and I actually have to pay attention to this one because I’m leading it.”
“Aww c’mon!” The group protested, Rooster among the loudest. He admired Bear for her strength and the take-no-shit attitude she had. Plus he found it funny when she teased Hangman to no end.
“I know, I’m sorry.” She grinned widely. “I might see you all tomorrow. But if not, I’ll see you around.” With a wave, Bear began to walk towards her car.
A shuffle behind her had her shaking her head as she continued walking. “Can I help you, Hangman?”
Jake paused, stunned at the speed at which she’d guessed it was him. “How’d you-”
“I just do,” she said with a wide grin, cutting him off. Spinning to face him with a smirk, Bear spoke again “So, can I help you?”
“That depends.”
“Depends on what?” Bear raised an eyebrow in question, looking at him curiously.
It was Jake’s turn to smirk, green eyes seeming to glitter in the night as he peered at her. “On whether or not you plan on taking my offer, Teddy.”
Her confusion deepened. “What offer?”
“You know what? Never mind. I like my dick where it is and I would like to keep it there.”
“Oh, you mean that little line in the hallway earlier,” she said, smirking. “I highly doubt you can maintain the speed I need. You seem too much like a ‘one and done’ kind of guy.”
“My mama would have me by the throat if she ever got the impression that I treated women with so little respect,” Jake replied, a blush rising to his cheeks. “Especially if I left them as unsatisfied as you must be by some of the losers on base.”
Her eyes narrowed, but this time it wasn’t teasing. Bear looked angry; her face pinched and if looks could kill, Jake would be reduced to a grease spot on the sand. “Your mama would be so disappointed in your behavior right now, Lieutenant,” she snarled, her eyes nearly slits and venom coated every syllable. “And, for the record, my “satisfaction”, as you put it, is none of your fucking business.”
“Woah. Okay, chill,” Hangman raised his hand, almost placating the woman before him. “I didn’t mean it like that. Just that you wouldn’t be wound so tight if you took me up on my offer.”
“Well, I guess I won’t be so lucky as to fall under you,” Bear shot back. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I should get going.” She turned and walked off, leaving a stunned Jake in her wake.
===
A/N: Kisses and hugs to my favourite editors/fangirls: @startrekfangirl2233 @sarahsmi13s and @dakotakazansky you guys have saved my butt more times than I can count!
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Not Wholly Evil |VIII| pirate!Eddie au
a/n - this was a struggle for me, so I have no idea how I managed to get this done so quickly. most likely due to all the fucking amazing support yall have given me, especially over the previous chapter. holy shit i could not ask for anything better <3 thank you
Series Masterlist
word count: 8.2k
"semi dark fic" - READ the warnings:. (gun/sword)violence. blood. mention of severe wounds. minor character death. allusions to suicide. kidnapping. imprisonment. alcohol. open and deep sea. near death experiences in water. pirates are pigs: mentions of non-con, but it does not actually occur. malnourishment and weight loss. paranoia. mention of poisoning. abuse. manhandling. lying. mentions of sex work.
Chapter 8: Earthshine
“It took a special kind of madness to try to be a pirate and a good man at the same time.”
― Matt Myklusch, The Lost Prince
The ghost of her hand lingered with a sting over his cheek. The impact awakened him from a dream, but the kiss dragged him back. He was simply hanging there as if from a rope, ready to fall but anytime his body was prepared to hit the ground, a force pulled at him even harder and up and down his soul went. They both tasted of salt water and rum, yet she tasted sweeter, but perhaps “intoxicating” was a better word for it. His head was spinning at the sensation of her touch. He was stuck in a whirlwind, and her lips kept him anchored to the ground.
Eddie let his hands fall to her hips, closing the cap between them. Her hand, which had marked his face moments before, now rested gently against his chest, nails digging into the material of his shirt.
How long had he felt the need for this; for her? It was impossible to tell how deep within himself it had come from and how hard he had fought to erase it before, but there was no need to hide it now. The window was only so small, and who knows what would happen once closed. So, Eddie ensured everything he meant with that kiss reached her. No two human beings had ever been closer, tied together by something between them.
It was a heat, a hunger, growing larger by the second. A beast ready to devour everything in its path if not tamed. They might have stopped it if they had been aware of it. Perhaps not. Perhaps it was what they wanted all along.
His hands, steady on her, began to migrate over her hips, down her thighs, on her back. Her hand, meanwhile, trembled as it returned to its place on his cheek. The gentleness of her touch sent sparks through him, a feeling he had not encountered in a very long time and had never imagined to feel again. A kiss so simple and yet…
It was angry, wild, passionate, bold and forceful.
It was him and her.
It was them.
It could not have lasted longer than a few seconds, but it could have been a lifetime. He didn’t want it to end, ignoring that it eventually had to. Eddie would happily ignore the scream in his lungs to stay like this, but for once, he decided not to act selfishly.
They still had eachother in their holds when he took the first breath. There was an interval when he opened his eyes, waiting for her to do the same. He saw how she breathed in his presence and let it sink into her. Then, when she finally opened her eyes, they were the brightest he had ever seen them be. Vibrant with life, stained with tears. Eddie had to compose himself not to show the pain it caused him to see her like that—something he had grown quite an expert in over the past few days.
But what about the new pain that stung him when she stepped back, and her hand reached for her mouth in shock at what they had just done? He had a brief instinct to follow her and close that gap again, but instead, he doubled their distance. The same question rang through him, however.
What had they done? What did he do? The latter of the questions seemed to be a constantly more frequent thought of his since he had met her. Whatever he did, implied or not, always seemed to be the wrong choice. It constantly only led him deeper into a pit, and with each choice, the possibility of ever climbing out seemed less and less likely. To think that none of this was even supposed to happen. He should have kept his distance from the beginning, should have kept her away, but like any man, he was weak regarding his feelings.
Was that what this was? Feelings? If asked, many would say he did not possess these. She would be one of them, and twistedly, it made him want to laugh.
He didn’t—laugh, move, or say anything. Neither did she. They looked at eachother, the two-step distance never seeming so great as it did in that moment. There was so much Eddie had wanted to say, to apologise for, and his lips were ready to speak with a light parting when the world returned to them with a slam to the door. With a blink, everything around them became that much more real, and there was no time to process anything. Whoever was on the other side of the door was becoming impatient, slamming their hand harder and harder, making the entire wall shake.
‘Come in!’ Eddie hated that the first words that came out of his mouth were this aggressive or that he couldn’t take his eyes away from her and, therefore, could see how she didn’t falter. Two pairs of eyes were locked into place. Only when the door opened to the sight of Harrington, drenched to the bone, did they move.
Steve’s eyes wavered between them. How obvious was what had just occurred? Eddie felt like he was glowing, set on fire and burning bright. Was it guilt, embarrassment, pride or all of the above?
Then all three of them stood motionless, observing the others, trying to read each other’s minds in this situation.
Harrington was the one to break the silence, clearing his throat nervously like he knew his presence in the room was much unwished at that moment. ‘We’ll be arriving on Saint Claire shortly, cap.’
It cost Eddie longer than it should have to find a response, and the words he did come up with were sparse in meaning.
‘Right, yes, of course.’ He began to make his way over to the door when he stopped and turned to look her way, extending the passage with his arm. ‘After you.’
‘What?’ She looked at him in confusion. The one word sounded as if his suggestion was an offence, making Eddie feel hot in the neck. He was losing his grip on things, and this lack of control made his stomach twist.
‘You are more than welcome to stay aboard, princess.’ Could they tell what he was thinking from the way he moved? Did the slightest twitch in his face or the scratch of his nose give away all his thoughts and insecurities? If so, neither of them did anything. Eddie waited for her to say something, reply with one of her usual snide remarks and try to argue with him. If she had done so, he honestly could not think of how to respond to it. How much longer could they keep performing this little charade? Especially after what had just happened. It was not as if he had planned for things to turn out as they had, but there was hope that some changes might take place between them now.
Her response came in no shape of words but by her walking past Eddie and Steve, avoiding their bodies swiftly. Eddie followed suit, keeping some distance between her and himself, but Steve kept him up with one foot on the threshold.
‘Hey, you alright?’ He asked in a whisper, not wanting anyone to hear and with his hand on Eddie’s shoulder.
‘It’s fine,’ Eddie shrugged him off. He glanced at the deck to see her standing against one of the masts, looking out at the island ahead. Eddie had not considered the gloom that the storm would bring over it.
‘What happened to your cheek?’ Steve let his chin point out to it, and Eddie immediately regretted his instinct to reach up to his face at the question. What was there to see? He could barely feel the rush from the impact anymore, and when he pulled his hand away, there was no blood, and he doubted a bruise would form, but maybe some redness had started to develop.
‘Nothing,’ he stiffened, dropping his hands quickly.
‘Eddie,’ Steve made another attempt, just to be cut off by his captain.
‘I said nothing, Harrington,’ Eddie pushed his way through. ‘Get back to your post. We’ll be docking soon.’ He walked away but just about heard Steve’s reply that, yeah, he knows. Hopefully, Steve could not hear Eddie’s sigh in relief from the cool rain on his skin. He had not thought that possible after the day's events, but he was slowly cooling down, especially when he met the midnight breeze, which felt good. At least the weather improved, but he still felt his insides twisting and turning like he was caught up in a hurricane.
When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he realised he had nowhere to go. He knew he should stay away from the one place he wanted to be. Again that feeling of lack of control took over him. He felt restless. Hopeless.
Eddie needed to get off this boat. He needed a drink.
Saint Claire was a small island where people made money through fishing and the constant flow of ships that sailed into its humble harbour. Sailors from all corners of the world supplied the inhabitants with their dire need for food, entertainment and sex. This need resulted in the slow construction of Main Street, which spanned across the eastern coast, filled with taverns, hostels and other required necessities for anyone who might come across it.
Some called it the Battleground for the amount of broken glass, furniture and other remaining scraps that are always left hanging around after the innumerable amount of fights that break out in the area. The sound of windows or bottles breaking bones was a common melody in the neighbourhood.
Others called it the Flame, as the light inside the buildings never seemed to go out, no matter the time, pulling in customers like moths to a flame. No matter the time, the night stayed always young. The drinking and singing would not end until the sun rose above the sea, but even then, it was never really over. There was one brief window of peace on the island, somewhere around noon most times, when the ships in the harbour would set sail and make place for the new arrivals, ready for the chaos to start all over again.
For the Hellfire crew, however, Saint Claire was a safe haven. The island saw enough drunken brawls on the daily basis that it did not need to get involved in any of the politics of its neighbouring islands, let alone those further away, and so most shops and those upon it lost their authority the second they stepped a foot on the ground. Because of this, many were under the misconception that the island was a land of no rules, but on the contrary, it ruled under strict self-proclaimed laws, and those who would not abide would pay heavily. One way or another.
This resolved very few arguments between the island’s guests and caused many a fight, but in turn, it resulted in plenty of entertainment for those who happened to walk by or sit next to the fighting parties. Even though Eddie found himself to usually be involved in some capacity, he still found a great sense of enjoyment in it all. He could not read minds, doubted he even wanted to, and had no idea how his crew actually felt about all this, but there had not been any complaints yet in the span of their countless visits to the island.
It had been by pure chance that they had hit the storm while already nearing Saint Claire and that the harbour was just in their reach when things seemed to be tightening down on them. Once the waves had settled and Eddie had made sure that no one had been grievously injured, he made his round on the ship to see what exactly had been damaged. There was the broken barrier on the deck that now gaped out at the sea and was in need of mending. Then something about the angle at which the foremast stood did not sit right with him. It might have been a pre-existing problem or nothing at all, but someone had to check on it before it was too late. Miraculously, the lower deck had barely suffered besides some small leakage that had already been taken care of. In a way, Eddie thought that his office had gotten the worst blow by the small storm that had thrown all his belongings in disarray. He had meant to pick it all up, but how could he clean when she lay in his bed unconsciously.
The sight of her like that made him sick. She could have listened to just this once, and they could have avoided… all of it, and then he wouldn’t be stuck pacing his ship in the way he was, doing his best to avoid everyone so he could clear his mind—
So, the other reparations would have to wait until the morning. It was late; they were all tired, as the battle against the storm had taken a toll on everyone. There was no use in working deep into the night and possibly making things even worse because of the exhaustion. Instead, they would go into town, drink themselves numb until the sun reappeared, and let the regret of their nocturnal choices set in nicely.
The hellfire sailed into the harbour, and the result of the storm in the town was immediately visible. Already from miles away, Eddie saw how unusually dull it looked. Everyone had gone inside to hide from the rain and wind and boarded up their windows to protect the fragile constructions. But at closer inspection, he saw the slivers of light fighting their way through the blanks and shining out to them like broken beacons.
Their arrival was nothing new, but the comfort of familiarity was missing in Eddie. He had never felt this on edge when stepping down from his ship onto the dock of Saint Claire, never this vigilant. The lack of light brought everything into a different perspective that he did not appreciate. Suddenly every quirk in the empty street seemed to be someone looking for trouble, and every sudden sound must have been a weapon. He kept looking around himself as the crew walked past the darkened buildings. He supposed it didn’t help that he saw at least three ships with royal crests on them, a usual announcement of trouble. But it wasn’t the darkness or the silence that had put his sense on sharp, not even the possibility of encountering any kind of enemy. It was her. Her presence made him that much more aware of all the dangers lurking around.
The reassurance finally came over him when the party reached the last building of the street—The General. It was one of the smallest taverns on the island and usually the least populated one, but nevertheless, it was one of the finest establishments Edde had ever had the pleasure to visit in his rough lifetime. Walking in front of the rest, he was honoured with the task of opening the door.
As soon as he did so, before he even managed to take one step inside, he felt the wheeze of air pass him by as a bottle hit the wall and shattered into a million pieces at his feet. It could not have been more than an inch away from his ear.
It was good to be back.
Just like he had expected, there were not many people inside; maybe two tables had been occupied—more than plenty of participants and observants for the fight that was on the verge of starting—when the crew arrived and filled the rest of the seats. Before anything could be said or demanded, a woman walked up, stylishly avoiding the wild limbs being thrown about by the earlier client. The impressive skill at which he had made her way through the room was only enhanced by the way in which she held half a dozen large ale tankards in her arms, all filled to the brim, and not one drop was spilt when she put them down at one of the tables. The party greeted her with a chorus of cheers, grabbing the drinks quicker than Eddie could manage to blink.
The barmaid was still looking down broadly at the few customers she so quickly managed to satisfy when she said, ‘Where is my money, Munson?’ with a matronly smile on her face.
‘Good to see you too, Joyce,’ Eddie leaned back in his chair.
‘Yeah, yeah,’ Joyce rolled her eyes, the size of them making the expression that much more prominent to Eddie, and crossed her arms, unimpressed. ‘Spare me the formalities. You owe me, so pay up.’
Eddie had prepared for this exact exchange before he even realised that the Hellfire would make herself seen on the island, so he opted against fighting with the tavern owner and pulled out a leather pouch with a sigh. It jingled loudly at the smallest of movements.
‘There you go.’ He threw it to Joyce, who quickly caught it and immediately opened it to estimate whether the amount was anywhere near the agreed-upon amount. Seeing her do so, Eddie added: ‘Everything’s there, as promised, with enough spare to cover tonight.’
Joyce gave him a look that they would still see about that before looking around at what else the cat dragged into her place. A room filled with hooligans, drenched to the bone, sunk down into their seats, six of them already with their faces covered in her home-brewed ale. But nothing escaped Joyce, and she quickly noticed the newest addition to the party. Immediately, the hostess within Joyce sprung out. ‘Hi there, what I can get you, Honey?’
Eddie looked over. Of course, she sat down as far away from him as possible. He hadn’t expected anything less, really. She had found a spot next to Robin, on the opposite side of the room, and had made herself as small as possible among the crew. She gave it a moment before answering Joyce, clearly unsure how to approach the situation, but eventually smiled and simply refused the offer with a kind ‘I’m alright, thank you.’
‘You sure?’ Joyce raised a brow, but it was directed at Eddie, who had just grabbed himself one of the bowls of sunflower seeds. It was one of the reasons he decided to return to this particular tavern as often as he did. Joyce tended to roast them, so sometimes, they would still be warm when Eddie got his hands on them. He was in the middle of cracking one open when Joyce asked her the last question Eddie had wanted to hear here: ‘How’d you get involved with these guys, then?’
‘Rescued her from the pyre?’ Eddie mumbled against the sunflower pit, looking for the next one to eat, hoping his answer would be sufficient. In reality, it only half covered up the truth.
‘I was taken from my ship.’
‘Your ship?’ Joyce pursued, much to Eddie’s dislike. Maybe she wouldn’t say it, but she’d just nod, and the conversation would move on. Either way, he could not interrupt anymore. If he would do so, he knew that Joyce would just shut him down before he even got a word in.
‘The Red Tail.’
Eddie cringed but hoped no one would see it more as he accidentally bit his tongue… which was also the case. He was too occupied cursing everyone out in his mind than to think of the metallic taste pooling in his mouth. He glanced her way, but naturally, she wouldn’t meet his eye.
Did she know the lack of care Saint Claire has for outsiders? Did she expect anyone to ring an alarm bell for her? Or was she simply trying to embarrass Eddie in front of his crew—but maybe it's what he deserved. Still, he did not need his mistakes to be pointed out so blatantly to him, not in front of Joyce, out of all people.
‘You don’t say,’ Joyce blinked slowly, turning her attention to Eddie, who decided it was best to stick to the bowl of pits for now and not look elsewhere. He did not need to see the way his friend tried to hide her anger. He just heard her say, ‘well, if you need anything, just let me know. And you—’ she spoke out to the rest, much harsher should be noted, ‘better keep it clean in here. Last time it took me four days to scrub up after you, and I will not be doing that again.’
There was an ensemble of mumbled apologies, which included Eddie. In the world, only a limited group of people held the power to make the Hellfire party feel bad for their actions. It was a short list that very recently just added a name to it, but at the top of it was undoubtedly Joyce. Her stance in front of them was enough of a message they had heard before that while she might not start any fights in her house, she could easily be the one to end them. Eddie had witnessed it enough times to know it to be entirely true.
With one last disappointed look directed at the captain, one that Eddie wished he had missed because it made him feel like a small kid again, Joyce returned to the bar to serve up more drinks.
The first few minutes of the night were spent in exhausting sobriety and sparse conversation, but as more ale and rum was poured, the party livened up. Like usual, the chatter and laughter brought back their much-needed energy and everything that had happened on the boat that day was soon forgotten.
For the most part.
Much to no avail, no matter how many drinks went down his throat and how hard he tried to think about anything else, Eddie held back from the festivities—uncharacteristically so, as was pointed out by several. As much as he had hoped that the alcohol would wash everything away, he felt just as clear-minded as he had that morning when he woke up in the holding cell. At least his back did not hurt anymore. The kink in his neck would just not go away, no matter how hard he tried, but he had only himself to blame for that.
Whatever he wanted to do that night, he could not stop thinking about her. His attention kept wavering over to that one side of the room, where things seemed to be a bit calmer but just as enjoyable of a time as the rest was having. Eddie couldn’t tell what she was saying or doing as she had conveniently made sure to turn her back toward him at any given time, but from how relaxed she sat by, it all seemed… fine.
Out of all the things that had and could have happened, Eddie never imagined her sitting at the table with his sort—though he never believed he was that much different from any other man. But how had this happened? When did this happen? It was like the world had suddenly turned upside down, seeing her sit among his friends, his crew, wearing his clothes, talking. Laughing. Almost as if she belonged.
Almost because he doubted she would consider herself one with the group, he didn’t blame her. This life was no one’s first choice. Certainly not his. And he could not let her fall into it now too. Not that she would, their journey would last no longer than a few more days, and then she’d be back home, and the Hellfire would never have to go near that place again.
Eddie had really thought that it would be much easier after everything, but the thought of returning there brought a bitter taste into his mouth…or was that just a burned sunflower seed he had just consumed? He spat it out and washed his throat with rum, ignoring most of the things around him as he concentrated on the heavy feeling that the drink brought.
‘Joyce!’ someone called out, but Eddie was not paying enough attention to notice who. ‘Where is the lute?’ However, the mention of the instrument pulled him out of the haze.
‘ ‘Where it always is!’ Joyce shouted back. The lute hung over their heads on the wall. Already knowing what direction this was going in, Eddie tried to protest.
‘Can we not do this, gentlemen.’ He was not in any mood for a performance, but that did not matter. The next thing he knew, the strings were pushed into his arms, and everyone awaited with great expectations on what he would play. Eddie hesitated. His fingers were already on the right chords for the wrong song. He knew no one was interested in listening to it, but it was the only one he cared about right then. So, he let his hands flow freely, strumming the notes to be immediately met with disagreement.
‘Not that one!’
‘Play something else!’
Right. He thought for a moment but mindlessly hit the strings until something coherent emerged. He didn’t even need to sing himself; the drunken state of his crew allowed them to do most of the work without a fault. He was just there for the show and that he could do. He hummed along as everyone else belted out the words from the heart. It was a silly song they had all come up with one starless night when the waters seemed to have taken them hostage. It was nothing specific, simply a song of monsters that groaned and heroes who overcame their battles without sweat. What they hoped to all be. Maybe one day.
Playing the strings had always been like second nature to Eddie. He had been able to do it ever since he was a kid, which often brought him comfort. The repetitive motions gave him stability that his life so often lacked, so he focused on that as his eyes lost their focus on her. Had she been watching him? For a moment, he thought he had caught her looking. He must look stupid with this lute in his lap. He much rather preferred a gittern. The hold was more comfortable on that.
He should have looked away by now. It would only make things worse if she caught him staring the way he was, but she was too occupied. There was so much going on, after all. Some of them had started moving tables around, creating a place to dance. Since when did they dance? Eddie wanted to laugh. Of course, when there was a lady present, when else?
She tried to object to the invitations but eventually gave in and was pulled into the circle. The shirt was still too big on her, Eddie noticed. She had to keep pulling the sleeve up over her shoulder, and he had to do everything he could to stop thinking about how he wanted to pull it off her. All of it. If she could read minds, which sometimes Eddie genuinely thought she could, he would be a dead man walking.
But if she could read minds, she must have been too occupied at that moment. Too busy dancing with the rest of the crew. It was similar to a waltz, but since Eddie doubted most of his men had properly rehearsed one in years, it was an awkward two-step at best. Not that it stopped anyone from having fun. She at least looked like she was enjoying herself. Eddie tried to recount if she had, after all, gotten a drink because this could not be the same woman who had been in his chambers earlier that day. Unless he was at fault for this change.
He only lied to himself, pretending he had not messed with her. It wasn’t supposed to have been like this. Things just kept going wrong, and then he would panic, and the next thing he knew, he locked her in his bloody room for half a night or stabbed her in the ribs.
The sight of her bleeding still came back to him in his nightmares. As if they were not full of memories already, now she was there too. Covered in blood, and all because of him. She would scream until there was a sudden silence, and he’d hold her lifeless frame in his arms… just to wake up and hope that would be the last time his mind conjured the images up.
It never was.
Was he still playing? From the dancing around him, Eddie could only assume so. Surely if he had completely frozen up from his thoughts, someone would defrost him from his mental prison. But no one was paying any attention to him, too occupied by her. The way in which she moved freely around the room would put a smile on any man’s face, and Eddie certainly was one of them. How could he not? He should probably have looked away at some point, but he simply could not. And maybe it was for the better that he was so in awe with her, or he would have missed the brief moment when their eyes connected. He doubted she had meant to look his way, but she still had, and he could have sworn that her lips tightened their smile slightly higher, though it could have just been what he had wanted to see. A shadow playing nasty tricks with him.
Robin, who must have had a few ales too many, was flailing her arms around, singing along drunkenly to the song Eddie played. It usually went exactly like this. Robin would drink, dance and force everyone to join her and “no” was not an acceptable answer in this circumstance. No one could disagree on the matter, not even Harrington, who sat outside the circle.
‘I invite King Steve to the floor,’ Robin demanded. The two women giggled next to each other before Robin went up to Harrington, who was still protesting and pulled him up by the arm. Eddie had to remind himself to keep up the tempo of the song, which was difficult when all he could hear was the blood pumping in his ears at the sight of him coming closer to her—realistically, Robin had pushed them into eachother, but all Eddie saw was the way he held her hand as they danced together. How he wished it could have been him with her.
He did not know what stung so hard at seeing them together. There was no rational explanation, only the speed at which his heart raised with anger. And for what? He knew Harrington for years. They were like brothers and would sooner choose to die than hurt the other. Eddie could trust him with his life, so why could he not trust him with her? Why did he need to have that trust? What was it that made him lose all control around her? He just wished to understand his own mind.
As they kept dancing, Eddie had to force himself to look away, already feeling the same dark spark that had brought upon a fire that had nearly burned everything down before. All he could do was remind himself of what he had done to control himself. The memory of you lying on the ground, covered in blood that he had spilt. It was a dumb mistake that nearly cost him her life.
He had never meant to touch her. It had all been a miscalculation of distance, combined with the sheer blindness of his emotions. The worst was he could not even remember lashing out with the sword. One moment he stood there, watching Steve hold her, seeing her laugh at something he had said and the next, she screamed out in pain. He had tried to stop her, wanting to apologise. He had wanted to run after her, but what good would that have done? Eddie couldn’t think straight.
It was Steve that pulled him out of it.
‘Eddie!’ He had shouted. ‘What were you thinking?’ To which Eddie had no response because, simply, he wasn’t thinking. It took him too long to regain a grip on his mind, and he took one of the bottles that stood next to the dice table. At first, he had just wanted to drink it all, down it in one go, but he thought of her lying there with the wound— it needed to be cleaned. It took everything in him to get down there, knowing he was most likely the last person she would have wanted to see, and that was quickly proven right.
Words failed him in every sense, so he left before he could make it even worse, but the damage had already been done. He returned to his cabin and immediately noticed a difference. He was sure he had removed most of the paper from his desk the night before, yet the ground was spotless.
She had cleaned up for him.
Eddie screamed out, and his fist hit the side of the wardrobe. Splinters embedded themselves into his skin as he screamed, letting out all the frustrations he felt about himself.
‘What is wrong with you?’ Eddie heard behind him.
‘You’re the last person I want to see right now, Harrington.’ He didn’t turn around to face him, just walked straight to his desk. He noticed the drawer was open, his letter on top of the bottles, but there was too much going on in his mind to be angry at that as well. For now, at least.
‘Am I to believe you’re angry at me?’ Steve scoffed as he entered the room.
‘What if I am?’
‘Why? Because I stopped her fall? Talked to her? Because you nearly impaled her.’ As far as felonies went, Eddie was taking the crown on that one. He leaned his head down into his lap.
‘You know I didn’t mean to—’ he cursed. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’ He couldn’t admit to Steve that the sight of them together had struck a nerve. He was supposed to be better than that. Do better. He really thought he was doing better.
He had no idea where his next question came from.
‘Do you like her?’
‘Excuse me?’ Steve was taken aback.
‘Do you like her? Or are you just trying to—’ The idea of Steve taking advantage of her boiled his blood.
‘You’re going insane, Ed.’ Steve quickly stopped him, speaking as calmly as he could. ‘We both know she’s not just some girl, and I think she deserves better than what we’ve been treating her like. This situation is messed up, but we could try to make her feel better, not like a prisoner.
‘But if you want me to back off, fine. I’ll let her be. See how that goes, but don’t think about screwing me over when it all blows up in your face.’ He had warned him before walking out again with only one more thing to say. ‘And Munson,’
‘What?’ Eddie stopped looking at his hand, which had gone bright red now from the impact of the wardrobe. Steve’s eyes were filled with sadness, exasperation.
‘I’m not him. Just remember that.’
And Eddie did his best in doing so. He could trust Steve but could not let go of things that quickly. It was, after all, the past that made you who you are. Mankind is shaped by memories, and Eddie had too many of those. He wished he could just forget everything and start over, but what would be the point of anything if it was that simple.
His fingers began to hurt, as well as his head. Whether it was the music he was told to play or his head sobering up, he had had enough for now and handed the lute to the man sitting next to him. It wasn’t anyone from his crew, just another customer, most likely an islander. The man grinned at him with a toothy grin before starting to pluck away at the strings. There had been a slight whine from the rest in the second the music had stopped, but as it resumed, it was all forgotten. Eddie approached Joyce, but not before snatching away another bowl of sunflower seeds from a table. When he arrived at the countertop, she was already pouring him a pint of ale.
‘So what’s the story here, then?’ She asked as she watched him down the drink in one go.
‘There is no story,’ he said once he put the cup down, out of breath, already signing to her to pour another. She looked unimpressed but grabbed the tankard anyway.
‘So I am to believe nothing is going on between you and— and her.‘ She said it with so much meaning behind the one word, and since it was them, Eddie understood all of it.
Joyce’s big eyes had always been intense. When she looked at you, she looked down deep into your soul, unlocking all your secrets with just that one glance. Which is perhaps why Eddie did his best to avoid looking at her too much. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Boy, you really do exhaust me.’ Joyce sighed. ‘Don’t make me point out the obvious.’ She placed down the next drink, and Eddie took it slow this time, only sipping small amounts at a time. Joyce knew that there was nothing else she could get out of him on this matter, but there was so much else she needed to talk about.
‘How did she get on your ship, anyway?’
‘You heard her.’ Eddie didn’t want to explain it. Not to Joyce. He hated repeating himself. So, he took a handful of sunflower seeds and began to occupy himself with those.
‘Yes, I did. The Red Tail. What happened to it?’
‘Do you have any more complaints I should take care of?’ He tried to change the subject, and failed at it miserably.
‘No.’ Joyce still answered him quickly before returning to her question. ‘What happened to the Red Tail? What did you do?’
‘Exactly what I told you I would.’ He cracked open another seed. ‘And see how it’s worked out well so far?’
Joyce had been leaning against the counter, but at the sound of Eddie’s words, she took a step back, disbelief written all over her face. ‘Eddie…’
‘That’s Captain Munson to you,’ he snickered, but she was too used to his attempts at lighting the mood at the worst of moments. And when that didn’t work, there was only one other thing Eddie knew how to do.
Joyce didn’t even get to finish her question. Eddie got up as her words faded into a weak ‘Is he…’
He just about managed to say his last words before they got lost in the chaos of the party. ‘He got what he deserved. They all did.’
More people must have entered The General because surely this crowd did not come solely from the Hellfire, excluding the handful of local drunks. They must have come in as the music had started. No one in Saint Claire could pass on such an occasion, causing a large commotion. As the door opened and closed constantly, only welcoming more people in, it was suddenly packed from wall to wall. Eddie felt an elbow in his side as he tried to return to his seat, spilling the ale right onto himself. In response, he threw the tankard toward where the arm must have come from, not caring if he had hit the right person, quickly making himself scarce before the person currently cursing out realised it was him to be the perpetrator.
His previous seat was, naturally, already taken. The dancing had stopped as there was no longer space for it unless they decided to get up onto the tables—a most likely option if given a few more drinks. But neither that nor the stain seeping through his shirt was a problem to Eddie.
‘Where is she?’ he asked, but no one could hear him. He tried again, louder, directing his voice to the crew closest to him. They all shrugged one after the other. How could someone disappear into thin air while surrounded by dozens of people with no witnesses? How did none of his men bother to keep an eye on her?
Finally, Eddie caught sight of Robin, slouched back in a chair, giggling.
‘I think she—’ Robin’s eyes couldn’t stay focused, and she kept slipping into laughter. ‘I think she went to get some air—as if there is no air in here?’ She laughed. As a matter of fact, the room was only getting hotter, and it was becoming harder to breathe.
Was that because of a lack of fresh air, however, or was the tight feeling in Eddie’s chest coming from somewhere else entirely? He pushed his way through the crowd to the door.
It had stopped raining, but the wind had only picked up since the crew entered the tavern. Some buildings had taken off the boards from the windows, illuminating the street with the candlelight from inside, but for the majority, everything was lit by the moon’s silver glow, and barely at that. Anything outside of Main Street was a dark abyss. Surely, she wouldn’t have dared to wander off toward the forest?. Eddie could describe her in many ways, none of which would suggest she was stupid enough to risk her life out there. Who knew what roamed around in the trees and caves.
For good measure, although not expecting much of a response, he called out her name as he walked down Main Street. Every time he passed by a tavern or inn, he considered walking inside, just to check if she, by any chance, decided to do as well, but he could not think of reasons why she would have.
‘Can we help you, handsome?’ A woman’s voice called out to him. Eddie turned around to meet two women standing outside one of the taverns. Their black dresses were tightened to accentuate their frames and push up their breasts, making them impossible to miss, no matter how hard one tried. They smiled suggestively until they realised who they had approached. ‘Oh, Munson, it’s you.’
‘Tabitha,’ Eddie was glad to see her for once, ‘did you by any chance see a woman walk by here?’
‘Why? Who is she? Another one of your little conquests?’ Her eyes narrowed into accusatory slits, and her large lips formed a sour pout.
‘Tabbie, sweetest, don’t be like that.’ if Tabitha were to explode like she often had the tendency to do, then Eddie had no time to resolve it, so the best solution was to just try and stick to her sweet side, like a fly caught in honey. He glanced at the other woman beside Tabitha, but she did not seem interested in the old lovers' squabble. If that is even what he could call it.
‘You had promised you would come back.’ Tabitha whimpered.
‘And I did.’ Eddie did not have the patience for this.
‘To break my heart!’ Her voice came out in high-pitched squeaks.
‘Now, c’mon, we both knew it wasn’t meant to be.’ The next thing he knew, he felt a harsh sting across his face. The second slap he received that night. The rings on Tabitha’s face only added to the pain, but somehow he didn’t feel it as deep as the first one he received. ‘Do you feel better now?’ He sighed.
Tabitha shrugged, crossing her arms.
‘So, the girl, did you see her? She was wearing a shirt, trousers…’ he tried to describe her.
‘Oh, her.’ Tabitha grimaced. ‘Yeah, I saw her. Think she was making her way down to the harbour. Was with some guy. They were talking about one of the ships.’
‘What guy?’ This could not be happening.
‘How should I know. He looked a bit stuck up, if you ask me. A bit like you did once.’ She laughed, and her friend joined her sheepishly. None of this sounded good to Eddie. He thanked them, this time without making Tabitha any drunken promises, and ran as fast as his legs could take him to the harbour. How could he have been so stupid? So careless. He let her go out of sight for a minute, and now, just like that, she was gone. Or it would be if he didn’t get there in time. Maybe he could still catch her?
There were many ships in the Saint Claire harbour, the Hellfire, of course, being the most beautiful of them all, and it should have been challenging to figure out which boat she could be on. It should have taken Eddie ages to realise which ship he was looking for, except only one had opened its sails and created a significant distance between itself and the shoreline. Its silhouette was a black wraith against the moon.
Eddie’s body deflated. He felt so numb from the shock he barely felt himself falling to his knees. It was over. Just like that, she was gone. He wanted to scream, and maybe he had even done so. It was too much of a blur. All his thoughts merged into that all too familiar and seething whirl of anger.
How had he been able to do this? None of this was supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to be on board that damned ship. They should not have taken her with them. Not locked her up, shunned her out or scared her off. He shouldn’t have done any of them. Maybe it was good he let her escape, but one thing he would never forgive himself for.
He should never have fallen for her.
He had known better and yet let it happen just like that. How stupid could he have been? At least he could not think of a better punishment for himself than having to live with these thoughts, the regret, for the rest of his life.
The sand dug into him through his trousers, and he was ready for it to swallow him whole. He would have stayed there if it wasn’t for his crew. Maybe they were too drunk to miss him now, but they needed Eddie. Just as much as he needed them. He couldn’t just abandon them because of his issues. He had brought them into enough trouble because of them as it is. He just had to get over it for their sake. There was nothing he could do anymore but move past it and hope he would forget someday.
It took some more time for him to be able to walk again. His legs carried him back to his ship, too tired to make his return through Main Street to The General. He had just about enough energy to grab a bottle and sink into it before sinking into his bed.
It was ridiculous. He knew it. Eddie Munson, captain of the Hellfire, vanquisher of the seven seas… if people could only see him now. Drunk. Exhausted. Alone. Heartbroken.
Funny how history tended to repeat itself.
He threaded the plank up to the ship, keeping his balance as best as possible. His steps were getting heavier with each one he took. There were days when he could have stayed in his quarters for hours, locked away from the world, reading, writing, calculating new routes or decoding more of the cryptic messages he had found in his books. He’d had people give him reminders to come out for meals at times. But now, with everything in there that reminded him of her, how could he go about his days like normal?
How could he be so stupid?
How could he be so stupid to leave a fire burning inside? All it took was one spark, and it could burn everything down. The sight of the candle burning through the strained glass of the door made him speed up his walk up the stairs. Eddie walked in to see the damage, but there was none.
One single candle illuminated the room as best it could, leaving the rest in its shadows, which moved about with the flickering of the light. Despite Eddie having spent hours in the room, having placed every single item inside it, knowing it like the back of his hand, in the dark, it all felt brand new. It was like the darkness was watching him.
Except that wasn’t it.
On the contrary, suddenly, it was as if the sun had burst inside him.
Eddie didn’t dare blink, scared that if he moved, she would disappear. Because what else could it be but some kind of hallucination or a dream he would wake up from much too soon.
‘I thought you had left.’ Against all his willpower, he blinked, but when he opened his eyes again, she still stood there in front of him, and it really was her, only a few feet away, here in his cabin.
‘I wanted to.’ Her voice was weak, much like he felt at that moment.
‘Then why didn’t you?’
‘I don't know.’
Chapter 9 - 18+ version
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TALK TO THE DOVES (IX)
|| COV MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER X ||
PAIRING: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Reader
WORDCOUNT: 4.7k
WARNINGS: Angst, strained familial relationships, crying, mentions of suicide, I can finally I can say we have fluff & hurt/comfort y'all, etc.
A/N: Surprise, the MC finally gets her nickname
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
“Tell me about the,” your mother pauses, looking at you as you sit at the dinner table for supper. She’d made a hearty meal—stacks and food piled high on the long, polished wood. Her throat clears. “The years. How is school? Keeping up with classes?”
“Yeah,” you mutter, your plate holding all the items it had started with. Alex was drying the dishes, of his own volition, you have to add, across the room while Gaz took a long sip of water from his cup. The Sergeant leans against the island and tries to look like he’s not listening, tapping his foot on the floor in steady intervals. “It’s good. You?”
Your mom frowns, setting down her utensils with a clink. Alex hums a song under his breath and sets a dry pan on the counter.
Eyes darting to the open patio curtains, you stare out across the estate, your estate, before your mother brings you back in with a strained sigh. She’s watching you—gaze hard on your face but not once do you look into her with anything other than a brief glance.
“I’ve been talking with Mr. Ramsey,” she says like she’s reading the newspaper.
Kyle and you both go rigid at the name.
It’s only after you get over the slap to your face that you take a shallow breath, blinking quickly. “My…professor?”
“Mhm.” Clearing her throat, she takes the glass of water from the table and sips slowly. The scent of her perfume—citrus and wool—invades your nostrils even if she’s a good few feet away on the opposite end. Horrible, and evoking memories like no other. It suddenly makes you sick to be in the same room as her. “I asked him to keep up on you while I was away at work.” A pause. “Hector too.”
A sharp gasp is twisting in your throat. You think you stop breathing entirely.
“Now, before you go and act like you usually do,” hands clench and start to shake. “I really need you to understand—you’re my daughter, and you’ve lost your father; I lost a husband. Without all of,” her hands shrug, “this going on, I still wanted you to be looked after while I…tried to fix myself. I needed my work, but I needed my girl to be safe too.”
Inside of your sockets, your eyes twitch, staring blankly into her neck and the expensive jewelry she wears as if the glimmering will give you an answer as to what had brought this along. Her logic wasn’t what bothered you—caring about your child is natural.
But yours was a special case. Because by her logic…she knew about…You make a small wheezing noise in your chest involuntarily.
Alex has stopped drying; Gaz widely side-eyes the interaction, fancy glass stalled at his lips.
“Now,” your mom smiles easily, body burning with pride. “With that out of the way, back to you—let's maybe get some wine from the cellar? We can sit in the library and talk like old times. I remember your father’s bottle of—”
“Cellar’s empty,” you push back from the table and stalk off. “Enjoy your supper.”
“Erm,” she stares after in shock, face pulling in while her neck’s vein pops. “Sweetheart? Please, let’s not fight. I just want to know what you’ve been up to—I’m worried, you seem exactly the same as when I first left...”
You walk and disappear out the back door, not leaving the estate, no, just…going. Gaz makes a small huff of air from his nose and lightly jogs after you; exiting the house just as the door’s about to slip back closed.
Walking a short while, you push through the willow trees near the back pond and plop to the long grassy ground.
Gaz sighs into the dark area, scanning the shadows. He wants to tell you that you both shouldn’t be here, but you’re already reclining back on your hands with your legs popping out ahead of you; the water ripples in the moonlight.
A small silence echoes like mute steel.
“Should have known,” you end up muttering under your breath. “Figures.”
Hec had been your mother’s bug, Mr. Rasmey, that ass of a professor, too. Why did it have to be Hector? The one…the one damn person it would hurt to have it be.
You can’t even find the energy to cry, you just fold your arms and lay back, scalp grinding away plush greenery as it digs into the earth.
“She seems to only have good intentions, yeah?” Gaz coughs, unable to stay completely silent in this instance. His anger still simmered, but…well…it wouldn’t be fair to keep you isolated if you insisted on pulling away from everyone else. That wasn’t who he was.
He supposed he was the only one able to get any sort of reaction now. “Just because there were extra tasks didn’t make Hector’s feelings any less fake, Ma’am.”
“Back to ‘Ma’am’ now?” You huff, brows loose and sullen.
Kyle stares before his browns begin to soften on the edges. He looks to the ground before sighing and walking a few steps forward, easily stooping down and sitting beside you—a good few feet away. The Sergeant takes off his hat and places it on the ground beside him, running a hand over his hair and rubbing the back of his head.
“Well, what else would I call you?”
“I don’t know,” you stare at the wisps of the willows. “Idiot?” You say lower, “Mental?”
The man’s eyes lightly flinch at that.
“That wasn’t…” he begins, clenching his jaw in guilt. “I said some things I shouldn't have and I—”
“I’m sorry.”
The world sills and a gentle breeze makes the trees speak for you as the shock lays waste to the sinews of your throats.
It’s as if the words had taken what little resolve you had and shattered it entirely. The back of your eyes burns.
“I’m sorry, Kyle.” You say it again and fold your elbow over your mouth as it quivers. “M’sorry.” Again, again, again, until a small break in your voice makes you go quiet again—you shove your flesh over your face, eyes narrowed with tears you refuse to let fall.
Gaz’s face is open with delicate concern, chest tight and fingers so frozen he could pull the trigger on a rifle and nail a shot with little effort. Did he even have a heartbeat?
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you hiccup, not able to stop now that it’s started. “And everything hurts. I-It’s all spinning so fast I don’t know who I am, but I know that you’re right and it burns.”
He’s taking you by the shoulders and grappling you into his arms.
His touch has the same feeling as when he’d panicked at seeing your blood in your father’s office, pulled you in, and set you down on the couch. A tight and firm hold of skin and fabric; of a care that goes bone-deep and calls to this man’s nature—a gentle love for the protection of all innocent people.
Your face finds the dip of his neck, hands wrapping his waist. It had been so long since you’d wanted to hug someone. Your mother didn’t count, no, right now you needed someone you hate to fix this.
And there was no one better.
You hang off of Gaz’s shirt and he places a hand on the back of your head, lightly keeping you to him as you shake and lean into his chest. He curves over you slightly, as if shielding you as he did at the park—but there were no bullets here, no great boom of guns being fired, or rapid footsteps at your heels.
There was no deteriorating room with peeling wallpaper; chairs and the scrape of a bag over your head.
It was just the willows, the pond, and the two enemies.
“It hurts,” you sob into Kyles's neck, and his lips thin as he pulls you to him tighter. “God, it always hurts, and I’m so tired of it. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat; I don’t feel good anymore. I don’t even remember what it’s like t-to wake up and feel happy that I did.”
“It’s okay,” Gaz mumbles. “Hey, it’s going to be alright, yeah? Just breathe with me.”
Your words are garbled and wet, you breathe in shuddering gasps. It’s ugly, your crying, it gives you a headache, but not once do those hands leave from around you.
“I don’t want to keep feeling like this, Gaz.” Fingers digging into his shirt, you have to wonder if he’s repulsed by you—you’d been so rude to him, so uncaring and blunt.
But how else were you supposed to act?
The Sergeant may not have pulled the trigger, but he was there. He was there…and he had apologized for his part.
This was not forgiveness, but it was the only thing you could offer anymore.
You nuzzle your face deeper into Kyle’s neck, limp and still feeling tears being expelled from your eye sockets; lids firmly closed. It’s in a brief second of the still-air between another sob that you hear him speak again.
Gaz’s eyes stare off at the mansion behind you as he breathes in silent puffs, heart beating quickly and his pulse hammering. This was beyond what he had expected from you, but that didn’t change the fact that what you were saying made his mouth tight and his face crease.
He knew it was bad, but…
“You’re afraid of me.” The thought hadn’t left him since the blow-up in the hallway. It’s said in a whisper, finally bringing to light the fact he already knew. The sarcasm as a defense, the biting comments, sneaking away and not trusting him. He already understood it on the second day you’d officially met.
Your tears wet his clothes, sticking them to his heated skin as your breath creates condensation. You shake so bad that it becomes apparent it’s not only from your mind breaking.
It’s because you’re close to him.
Brown eyes widen, and he glances down at your head in pain, yet even so your hands keep him to you like a bear, panting and near hysterical.
“I just want,” you confess, his fingers heavy across your spine as the willows rustle. “I just want it all to stop.”
You shouldn’t be here—not like this. Not with him.
But, dammit, being anywhere else is even worse.
“Easy, Sweetheart,” Kyle speaks quickly, accent deep on his smooth tone. “I’m going to get you through this. It’ll end, I promise you. Nothing that’s goin’ on is permanent.”
He’s hesitant to do more, not wanting to step any boundaries, but you’re still not calming down; three years of heartbreak spilling out like a broken vase. Kyle’s head finds the side of yours, and while you involuntarily flinch, you don’t pull away.
You sniffle and suck down tiny, quick breaths.
“Listen to my pulse, Love. C’mon, now.” His hand on the back of your skull twitches its fingers into small circles, the other pulling you farther up. “I know you like me being quiet,” he jokes, but still serious. “So I’ll save you the trouble of focusing on my voice. Right there in my neck…you feel it?”
You shiver, face on fire. Silently, you do as he says.
You listen for it, his pulse, searching as you focus on just that. Not the man and his arms, not the squish of his chest or how you feel so warm by the strength in his biceps, but by the way it calms you. Searching. Being in control of yourself.
You find those rapid beats after a moment, eyes tight closed and lungs heaving. The grass sways around your forms and Gaz swallows the saliva in his throat to ease himself further. His eyes close, taking a deep breath that you missed in your study of his blood.
The stubble on his cheeks itches your scalp.
“That’s it,” Kyle whispers, sensing your breath slowing. The tension gradually slipped away. “There we are, you’re doing great.”
When all is said and done, you’re limp in his grip, forehead on his shoulder, and Kyle’s chin atop your head. The breeze is slow like a sigh and overhead the sounds of kingfishers and the swans that live near the pond gradually return in the silence broken only by far-separated inhales.
You blaze with a special type of shame for this, but you’re too tired to try and move. So, so, tired. Staying there, you let his grip keep you up, eyes stuck in the dark grip of his compression shirt as you don’t think—don’t fight it.
It pained you to realize, but your mother’s hug dulled in comparison to this.
Kyle confines you to his body, his lungs pushing his chest into yours, hands unyielding and steady; with that pulse still in your ear you sense the way he really feels, heart fluttering still rapid. Atop your head the chin, not digging into your scalp but instead turning in such a way as to follow the curve of your skull as if an eagle’s beak pulling at her mate’s form.
His nose releases a slow sigh.
“I’ll be here as long as you need me,” Gaz mutters. “Just say the word, yeah?”
The comments bring a bitter bite to your eye—another sting—but you keep it at bay. You have to. The hitch in your breath gives enough away, though.
“You can cry, Spitfire.” You shake once more, a deadly shiver running the length of your spine which the man rubs up and down. “You can cry in front of me. Hell, bloody cry whenever you want.” Kyle hums in his throat. “You’ve earned it. Fuck, you’ve earned it.”
The second round of tears is far more subdued than the first—quiet gasps and weak limbs. It only makes your head pound worse, the onset headache promising to be a big one. This one was reactionary; instinctual.
It just…had to happen.
And Gaz is there through all of it. He doesn’t pack up a bag and leave the country, he doesn’t pretend like it’s not happening—he stays. It is both something that makes you grow a new sense of him, and ends up pushing the knife deeper.
Out of everyone, it just had to be him, didn’t it?
Voice raspy, crackling more than dry bark, you speak as your grip on his shirt lessons.
“Spitfire?” Kyle stills, releasing a tiny breath of relief that you seemed to be calming down for good this time.
“Yeah,” he clears his throat lightly, glancing down at you under him. “Guessed it would fit…Ma’am doesn't have quite the ring to it, eh?”
Against the current situation, you force out a soft chuff.
“...You good with it, then?” Your brain is mush, and Gaz seems to pick up on it. “We’ll, uh, we’ll get back to it, Love. Let’s get you inside.”
He makes a motion to pull away but in a display that no one foresaw, your arms constrict like a vice around him.
Gaz freezes, feeling the hidden strength in your quivering limbs and how your face is hiding itself away even more fervently. You’re too embarrassed to look, to say anything.
But he was so warm, and his hands felt nice; just like they had room, or even when they had pressed to your mouth in the back alley when this all started.
Kind.
God, his hands were kind.
Kyle blinks in the darkness, the encompassing willow trees acting as a silent sentinel to this phenomenon. “Okay,” he says, low-like. When your grip doesn’t ease, he reassures, “I’m staying, Spitfire.”
You go limp once more, a shuddering sigh ripping out of your mouth. Gaz has to stay a twitch of his lips, a soft look spreading into his eyes as he huffs. Inside, he grasps for that small string of hope and pulls on it, wondering if this was when he walks back from the knife edge and can truly fix things.
A relationship can only be mended by the two people involved in it. If you could call this anything more than a dependency, that is.
“I should never have said what I did,” Kyle relays, knowing it was his time to reach out. You listen silently, drained. “A…at least not the way I said it. You didn’t deserve that, and I’m sorry, too. Lost my temper.” He chuckles after a moment. “Didn’t think you’d be able to do that to me, honestly.”
In a second of contemplation, Gaz moves his head back and brings his hands up to your cheeks, shifting your face back from his shoulder entirely soaked and soggy.
“I’m sorry.” He says it with no intention of making you look into his eyes, but the action itself makes it seem sincere and honest. Your red-veined eyes stay at his neck, gazing at his bobbing Adam’s apple. “I need you to know that I mean it.”
Kyle’s thumbs go and swipe the tear tracks, spreading them away with firm attention. He spares a small chuckle.
“I’ll be honest, I felt like a proper arse after all of that. I don’t like yelling when I don’t have to.” He sighs. “Certainly not at you. Not after everything.”
You let him grab at his shirt sleeve and mutter a small, “Here,” pressing the fabric along your chin to catch the last drops. Silent, you just blink.
Kyle’s concern peeks back in.
“...Nothing to say, Spitfire? Makin’ me nervous.” Face only holding blood and no longer tears, you shrug blankly after a moment.
“Don’t have anything to tell,” you utter weakly, licking your lips as Gaz’s hands fall lightly away—one on the other side of your hip and the other near his. You itch at your neck slowly. “M’tired.”
“No shame in it,” the Sergeant whispers, eyelids half-tilted. “You want to go in now, Love?”
Again, you only shrug, looking into Gaz’s chest with eyes far away. Already the internal walls were trying to build themselves back up; capitalize on the silence to spread poison-coated oil in the moat—light an angry fire with flame-coated arrows.
You feel utterly alone.
Kyle stays silent as you close your eyes and listen to the trees speak to each other, those little birds on the breeze dancing with wingbeats. Your father would take you out here often, not to impart his unending wisdom like some old man, but just to listen. Listen to nature; the simple parts of everyday life removed from the expectations and pressure.
Water, the ruffling of feathers, and the trees.
My Little Love.
But he wasn’t a good man.
“I found a USB,” you open your eyes, locking eyes with Gaz and telling yourself not to flinch backward. He blinks at you twice in surprise, body stilling as he looks back.
Those browns and ambers melt into a concoction of memory—flecks of green tiny and barely noticeable from a large distance; but you two were relatively close at the moment. Your lungs go tight, fingers twitching as you wrap the limbs around your waist loosely. Kyle watches with apprehension, eyes flicking away for a moment at the weight behind this.
“Say again?” He asks, gaze traveling back slowly only to see you still waiting to meet his eyes. The man holds it this time, clearing his throat against the hitch in his breath. “Are you sure you’re alright—”
“I kept it in my jacket pocket when you took the journal and the laptop.” You interrupt, eyes darting away quickly to look over his shoulder before the panic you feel in your gut spreads to your brain. “I don’t care, I can’t figure out the password—I’ll…I’ll just give it to you when I get back inside.”
There’s a black flash across the pond and as you lock onto the stray cat’s form, those silent paws padding to the water’s edge, Kyle gapes at you; jaw loose as he misses it. Yet the animal doesn't get water, doesn't even stoop down. It watches.
Silent, no hissing.
Eyes like forests blink, a tail flicks, its head tilted, and then it turns and disappears back into the bushes like it was never there in the first place.
Kyle gets over his shocked confusion at your sudden willingness to confess to him.
“I…I’ll look into that,” he itches at his scarred cheek. “Thank you.”
You scoff tinily, without venom. If you were a snake, he’d have said you had your fangs cut out. It’s pathetic, you know, how eagerly you want to get this off your chest—all of it. So you don’t stop.
“Hector was just about the only person who was there for me after Dad…” You lick your lips. “You know. He…he made it better, or, at least, he tried to. I know you think that I’m overreacting to this, but—”
“Negative,” Kyle whispered, body loose and giving you his full attention. “I wouldn’t say that. Wouldn’t even think it.”
“Then I guess you’d be the only one.” Your hand runs up and down your face, rubbing away the invisible blood. You mumble through flesh. “I shouldn’t be talking to you, Kyle.”
He huffs and tilts his head. “I’m not a bad listener, y’know? Talk all you want, if it bothered me, I’d tell you.”
“It’s not about it bothering you.” Falling back into the usual bickering, you have to internally reel yourself back in.
His body heat grounds you—latches on like hands. So starved for affection, all it had taken was one damn hug to entirely break you open like a cardboard castle; tears shed, and whispered words.
How weak were you?
Kyle hums, seeing the inner conflict. He could taste it on his tongue.
“Go on,” he utters, accent lacing the words with patience. You shiver and drop your hands.
Very.
“He,” your throat closes. “After the first year, I needed something to latch onto—some semblance of normal life. Hector was a constant face, one that was open and kind to me. Hell,” you look to the side, gritting your teeth weakly. “He gave me free food for weeks when he realized I wasn’t even eating anymore. Distracted me from falling back into a hole again. And to find out that after everything, he wasn’t not only doing it because he wanted to….but that my mother knew the entire time and…and,” you strangle down a whimper, the next sentence breathless with utter pain.
“She didn’t even come back?”
Kyle’s eyes break, lips pulling tight, before looking down. How many people were going to fail you, he asked himself. Him included.
The soldier thinks back to that small room and your terrified eyes—the blood and the boom of the rifle fired by Row from the corner. No definitive answers, a suicide, and names that led to nowhere.
Everyone who had ever claimed to love you had stabbed you in the heart over and over again, and in that act, you’d decided to rip those blades out yourself and wield them like a shield.
“When’s the last time you had a break, Love?” He speaks softly, gazing over your face and strangling down his anger at the people in your life—at the mansion itself; an entire metaphor for everything down to the closed curtains and the dusty corners.
You blink back to the Brit’s neck, clenching and unclenching your fingers, eyes unfocused.
“I mean a real one. Took off of Uni, just…forgot about all of it?”
“If I didn't have college to focus on,” you confess, shaking your head. “I don’t even think I’d be…”
As you trail, Kyle takes in a sharp breath with his heart jerking to a halt inside of his chest.
After a moment of his digging eyes, he whispers, strained, “It’s okay. I understand.”
“Yeah,” your body shifts, pushing past the topic quickly. “Yeah. Good.”
The silence falls again, but there’s a different air to this one. Kyle doesn’t look away, not for a long, long time.
“Why did you do it?” The words sneak out of your lips, face twisted up. “Please, Kyle.” You lightly shake your head from side to side, defeated down to your marrow. “All I’m asking you is why.”
The Brit grits his teeth, glaring at the ground at his side.
Why? How could he answer that? Nothing he says would bring you comfort—make this make sense. None of this made sense.
But he can’t not answer you.
Call him weak for that, not as durable as he thought he was, but you’re suffering—mind a mess of barbed wire and dark phantoms. There’s a weight on your shoulders that he can feel, had been feeling. For all of his opinions on your attitude, you didn’t deserve to live like this—that much was obvious.
It was not in his nature to be needlessly cruel.
Kyle stares at your shoulder as he answers, you, in turn, let your eyes slip the tightness of his face; near to one another in a way you’d both never believed you’d experience.
“I don’t know,” Gaz admits with a single tilt of his chin your way as if to apologize. “Pressure. Duty. That’s all shite, I know, but…but I thought I was going down the only path available. It’s not a bloody excuse.” The man speaks earnestly, without faltering. “He was never supposed to die, Love. Never. That doesn’t make it better, but it’s the truth. You were never supposed to see that, and everything that’s gone on, I share the blame in. And that’s something I’ll take to my damn grave regretting every chance I’m able.” He closes his mouth for a moment, and carefully he shifts to grasp your arm. When you don’t move away, he ends with utter conviction. “None of this is your fault. None.”
You take a large shaky breath, mind a mess of information. But you feel lighter than you had in ages. Glancing quickly down at Kyle’s hand, you blink at it. The Sergeant squeezes once and lets go without a word. His cheeks heat before he clears his throat, going to rub a hand at the base of his neck and spare an awkward chuckle.
“But, uh,” two pairs of eyes flitter away from each other's bodies. “Regardless, Love, you really do have a habit of making a man regret his actions.”
That gets a thin smirk flicking your lips. “It’s a lifestyle, Garrick.”
Flexing your still bandaged hand, you lightly flinch at the ripped stitches; the old wrappings at this point entirely soiled. Gaz notices from his side-eye, fully looking down to make a noise in the back of his throat as the willows sway.
“Let me see, then.” You huff, trying to shimmy away.
“It’s fine.” He deadpans at you, hand by your hip not letting up.
“You think I haven’t noticed you haven’t spoken to me about re-binding it? C’mon, Spitfire, I just thought you were taking care of it.” He smirks. “Then I remembered you’re more stubborn than a damn mule.”
You glare at his chest and half-heartedly roll your eyes, unwilling to argue. That thought alone is like a strike of lightning.
“Only one mule?”
“Hm,” Gaz reaches and lightly grabs your hand, turning it over and picking at the binding. It unravels easily. “You’re right. Make that three, actually. Throw in a nasty habit of being selectively deaf and it’ll be you to a point.”
You slap his shoulder with your free hand and he slightly banks away, chuckling, with his spine hunching in.
“Easy now, Girl!” You slap him two more times for good measure, a tiny giggle slipping past your lips as he jostles away with a wide smile.
But it’s natural, surprising, how simply the laugh comes out right after. Maybe it’s the utter exhaustion that finally lets it out from the cages you’d kept it in—a sleeping jailor at the iron door.
You bend carefully forward, as Gaz’s hand holds yours, lungs pushing through the fog of the forest that was once sprouting in them to release little laughs into the air.
“I hate you, Kyle Garrick,” your lips utter as he pulls back the last of the wrappings and looks at the damage you’d caused to yourself, taking the skin and swiping a finger over the old blood to watch it flick away.
He chuckles and smirks, raising a brow. “I know, Spitfire.”
“That nickname staying?”
“Bet your bloody arse it is.” He’s smiling. You’re smiling. Or maybe he’s only doing it because you are. “No one fits it better.”
TAGS:
@fatunn, @mh073099, @littlegaypng, @untitled69555, @babybooday, @caffeine-anxiety-and-randomfacts, @underrated-youngster, @jupiterredolent, @idocarealot, @karnellius, @latteisaqueen, @petrat97, @jade-jax, @roosterr, @escapefromrealitysm, @renaich, @kysa32, @human-turtle, @aurora-basin, @terumisworld, @violet-phantoms, @xxfeelmylovexx, @neelehksttr, @nezukos-number1fan, @20forty9, @mdjenjen, @marrianena, @angeldaisyy, @alhaizen, @homicidal-slvt, @emerald-valkyrie, @raissadoesthingslmao, @misfne, @hollyhopesworld, @wasteland-babe, @330bpm-whiplash, @anna-banana27, @justherebecausesafarisucks, @sunnynomoar, @doggydale, @thecrispypotatochip, @74478328, @blueoorchid, @das-conk-creet-baybee, @dragonfruit1985, @chestnutsandcurls, @vamqyr3, @lavalleon, @nebula67, @urfavsunkissedleo
#cod#cod x reader#cod x you#call of duty#cod mw22#x female reader#mw2#call of duty x you#mw2 2022#call of duty modern warfare 2#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty x reader#gaz call of duty#gaz#gaz mw2#gaz cod#kyle gaz garrick#gaz x reader#gaz garrick#cod gaz#kyle gaz garrick x you#kyle gaz garrick x reader#kyle garrick x reader#kyle garrick#kyle garrick x you#cod gaz x reader#cod mw2#cod mwii#cod modern warfare#mw x reader
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for the prompt list, catch + reverse with jing yuan
Comprehensive List of Scenarios
Jing Yuan
59. CATCH + REVERSE : for one muse to return the other’s pet that escaped.
Jing Yuan doesn't blame you for apologizing more than usual but he wishes you weren't always under the assumption that you're being a bother to him.
He's lost count on how many times your pet made its way to him. In the beginning it was a complete accident, your pet genuinely seemed lost; its sudden presence in the sanctuary disrupted the tranquil air and the finches that were perched on him retreated to the trees, much to his dismay.
The first time it happened, you apologized for bothering the general in his busy schedule. He would've told you that he knows how it feels since the same thing happens to him sometimes with Mimi, but one look at you and he decided that you deserve more than a white lie (Mimi is left to Qingzu's care and is trained not to leave without permission), so he only ended up telling you not to worry about it and to be more careful next time. He didn't bring up how you weren't actually being a bother to him. You didn't have to know that he wasn't doing anything at the time.
You swore it wouldn't happen again, but fate had other plans and your pet starts dropping by more often as the weeks passed by, within intervals of growing predictability that's beginning to become routine. The finches have grown used to its presence, just as much as Jing Yuan has grown used to bringing your pet back to you again, and again, and again. At some point he suspected you might be doing it on purpose, but from the way you're always washed with immense relief as soon as your pet is back to your arms, he supposes there's no way you would've planned all that.
"A word of advice, you might want to familiarize yourself with her new favorite spots," Jing Yuan says. His voice doesn't have the usual cadence of a general. He leans down to coo at your pet as it nudges its face to yours. "She visits the sanctuary often as of late. I suppose it's not wrong of me to assume that she has taken a liking to the finches?" He looks at you to gauge your reaction. "Perhaps to me, hm?"
If you were taken aback by his words, you didn't show it. "I wouldn't be surprised if she also likes you," you say. "You always bring her back to me without fail. I don't have anything to worry about if she is in your hands since I know you wouldn't hurt her. I just wish I didn't have to trouble you so often."
There you go again. "Like I told you last time, it's no trouble at all. The finches like having her around. I've also come to enjoy her company."
There's a brief pause. "Really?"
"Really."
"That's a relief," you say. "Believe me when I tell you this will be the last time!"
Jing Yuan highly doubts that, at least not when he knows just how much your pet has grown accustomed to the sanctuary. He indulged you in the details when you asked for it, and even though you promise never to be a bother to him, not a day goes by when he doesn't see your pet roaming around. "That's also what you said a week ago," he ends up saying instead. "And the week before that."
You reply with a quip that earns a laughter out of him. The both of you spend the next few minutes exchanging pleasantries before you bid him goodbye. Wordlessly his eyes follow you as you turn away with a quiet sorry to your pet. It's the same apology you gave him just moments ago, only your tone right now seem a little fonder, a little more tender.
Despite everything you say, you'll never be a bother to him. Why else would he go through all the trouble of finding you himself instead of asking somebody else?
#jing yuan#jing yuan x you#jing yuan x reader#honkai star rail#honkai star rail imagines#honkai star rail x you#honkai star rail x reader#hsr#hsr imagines#hsr x you#hsr x reader#comprehensive list of scenarios prompt list
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Hello everybody!
I always imagined what a perfect Valentine’s Day with Jake would be like and today I decided to put my fantasy on paper. I hope you enjoy it. English is not my native language, so I apologize in advance for possible errors.
With love… ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
Characters: Jake x Fem!Reader
1.5k words
Warning: 18+ as always.
“That's right, Jake! Right there…” You moan, gripping his hair with both hands as he sucks your clit into his mouth. Your feet are planted in the sand and grains stuck to the recently applied sunscreen burn your shoulders.
He inserts two fingers into you poking that sweet spot mercilessly as you come undone on him.
A few months ago you didn't imagine you could have multiple orgasms, but since you started going out with him it has become routine, in every corner of the house you and he now shared, in every hotel room where you waited for him after shows, sometimes even in the dressing room when he practically leaves the stage unzipping his pants and you wait for him with your pussy ready for him, as if it were his prize for yet another show in which he surpassed his limits.
This is what these five months have been like with Jake. It was fast, it was intense. He simply became addicted to you ever since his eyes met that day at karaoke when he saved you from that drunken embarrassment. That's why you weren't surprised when he asked you to live with him, belong to him full time and participate in his busy life full of flights and jet lag.
The interval of days between shows was short, but he made a point of taking a short trip on his first Valentine's Day. Small coastal towns have always been Jake's favorite. He spent hours before bed looking for destinations around the world that could be his next sweet escape. He could surf and spend time alone with you in unambitious restaurants and bars like a regular person.
And here you are on the hotel's rustic balcony enjoying the breeze in the middle of a hot afternoon wearing one of your flowery dresses that he loves so much. “Beautiful day, beautiful girl.” He brings you a drink, kissing your nose until an idea appears on his face in the form of that mischievous smile. “You know, the concierge said there's a little-known beach 15 minutes away.”
"OK. And..." You say, snuggling into his arms and nuzzling his neck, which displays a tan mark interrupted by the neckline of the shirt he wore this morning. There's a bead of sweat dripping down from his hair to the back of his head. You take it with your tongue.
“So what if we go out now and catch the sunset.” He makes that pout and wets his lower lip. There is no way to resist and you surrender to the sweet appeal.
[...]
He drives the rented pick-up along the simple cobblestone road. The path alone is paradisiacal. He holds your left hand the entire way, subtly rubbing your thigh.
The trip, as expected, is short and you contemplate the immensity of the sea in front of you, only seeing a young couple a little distance from where you decide to spread your beach towel to relax. Jake takes his surfboard from the rack and runs toward the sea, throwing his shirt and hat scattered across the sand. You watch him smiling as he gets lost in his natural habitat.
You lie down and close your eyes. The sun is mild and your ears pay attention only to the calming sound of the gentle waves crashing on the sand.
It may have been almost an hour and you're surprised from your brief nap with strands of his wet hair falling into your face as he hovers over you planting soft kisses on your jaw and neck. Before your eyes open, you feel his wet, salty lips caressing yours and his tongue silently asking for permission to explore your mouth. He tastes like the sea. His hands slide down your waist and over your hips, resting on your exposed thigh. “Jake, they can see us.”
“They got out of there, honey! We have the beach to ourselves.” He whispers smiling into your ear. “Why do you think I came back?”
You look around in disbelief and a little lost, squinting at the brightness of the sun, it is almost setting on the horizon.
“Hey, honey, relax. Can you be a good girl for me?” You mumble a few words in response as he plunges his tongue into your mouth once again, his breath is hot, his needy tongue completely dominating the kiss that never breaks.
You feel the contact of his dexterous and calloused fingers with your crotch, feeling him pull your bikini panties to the side and leaving your pussy exposed to him. He opens you up with his ring finger, gathering your wetness and sliding it inside you. “You’re ready for me.” His thumb making gentle circles on your clit. “Jake, I need your mouth.” You say between moans.
He moves his open lips down your neck towards your breasts, the contact of his wet, hot breath sending goosebumps across your burnt skin. His hands lower the cups of your bikini bra, he captures your right nipple with his lips, massaging it gently with his tongue while he puts the left one between his fingers, applying light pressure. Your body arches towards him at the double contact on your sensitive spots. His hands continue to stimulate it as he lowers himself, positioning his head between your legs.
Your body freezes as you feel him lick a long stripe from your entrance to your ass. “Hey, eyes on me.” He orders. You lay your eyes on him to see him spit a generous amount of saliva directly into your pussy. He smiles mischievously before turning down and devouring you with his mouth. His tongue forces your entrance while you try to bring it deeper into you as much as possible by moving your hips towards him. “Jake…”
He drags his tongue towards your clitoris making circular movements and finally, knowing it takes you to the limit, sucking it hard. He holds your hips with his hands as if to keep you on that plane and, with that, you collapse onto him.
He has a completely fucked expression. Cheeks pink from the sun, hair disheveled from salt water and your liquid covering his lips to his jaw. "So sweet."
He lowers his swim trunks to the middle of his thighs, letting his dick, pink and completely hard, pop out.
There's a white stripe across his pelvis across his golden abdomen and it only turns you on more.
You open up more to him hugging him with your thighs. He aligns himself with you, penetrating you as far as your limit allows. No matter how used you are, every time you and Jake make love he needs to stretch you for a few seconds until you adjust to his size. It moves inside you. His rhythm is slow and deep. He finds your lips again and sinks his tongue into your mouth. It's intense and feverish. He looks you in the eyes as he intensifies his thrusts into you. His hand holds your jaw, his thumb brushes your cheek and passes it across your open lips. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Y/N!”
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Jak…” You barely manage to finish and he puts his thumb in your mouth making you suck on it.
He slams himself hard inside you, making you scream his name, perfectly hitting that sweet spot inside you again and again and leaving you on the edge of your second orgasm.
He has his lips parted and his eyebrows furrowed above you and judging by his expression and how sloppy and languid his thrusts are becoming, he's not far behind you both. “Fuck…!” He moans as he cums hard inside you.
He rests his head on your chest as you both come down from your climax.
A few minutes pass and the two of you watch, as you remain hugged, the sun touches the sea, painting the water with yellow and orange lights.
“It’s time for us to leave, honey.” He says, gathering your things and his and taking you by the hand towards the car. “I’m not done with you yet. But I’m going to need you to watch my back.” He says and you see his shoulders are red.
You head to the hotel ready to enjoy the rest of the day, which was the best Valentine's Day you've ever had... so far.
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My brief report from last night’s Dimension 20 show in London (hidden for spoilers, I truly have no idea if these episodes will end up on dropout)
Okay so, this is directly copy and pasted from the messages I sent my friend during the interval and after the show, so it’s a bit scrambled.
Act 1:
It’s all randomised, they have these bingo spinner things and they pulled from a pool of their previous characters — ended up being 2 from Unsleeping City (which I haven’t seen, but it’s Pete and the rat man), 2 from I think Starstruck? (The captain and Sid) — AND FABIAN AND ADAINE
AND THEN BRENNAN PULLED A RANDOM SETTING AND ITS CROWN OF CANDY. ITS ALL ALTERNATE DIMENSION FUCKERY AND CALROY IS KING AND THEY IMMEDIATELY KILLED HIS ASS
In the first like, 10 minutes? Ally asked Brennan if they could do something impossible — box of doom, Nat 20 only. WHAT DO WE GET? ITS A FUCKIN ALLY BEARDSLEY NAT 20 EVERYBODY. IN REAL LIFE. IT HAPPENED
Highlights from act 2:
Bill Seacaster orgasm (during masturbation he says “yargh” repeatedly)
Gilear reveal, naked and unconscious in the bottom of a pool of sacred lemon yogurt (huge dick canon)
Zac switched characters halfway to LAPIN and I SCREAMED because he’s my FAVOURITE EVER (like, if these episodes do get put up, listen for the screaming YEEEAAAAAAAH the second Lapin is revealed because that’s me)
Lapin and Arthur Aguefort are “roommates” (canon)
Primsy Coldbottle, who is 29 in this Time Quangle, falls in love with Sundry Sidney and goes back with her onto the ship. Also with them is AnUs, the new canon name of Another Use of the Identify Spell, who has also fallen in love with Sid.
Kugrash (rat man) sacrifices himself to unquangle the Time Quangle by eating the pool of lemon yogurt — the one in which Gilear is passed out and “quangled” — and ascends to a higher consciousness in a cosmic bodega
And that is everything that has stuck in my brain!
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felt inspired by laufey's songs (might do a series on these if they're any good)
(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)
when you can't keep your promise
summary: he fills his lonely nights with a magnum bottle of some wine whose name he can't even pronounce right, with a whole pack of marlboro cigarettes he finishes in a few hours; and he ends every night with you as his final thought before he's out cold and has to live another day tomorrow. another day without you. and it kills him every day when he realizes he's forgetting what you feel like, what you sound like, what warmth you have that's like none other when you sleep together.
word count: 1,309
click, click, click.
he couldn't stop himself from playing with the lighter's mechanism, the cap was too much fun to not flick around with; though he had every chance to ignite a small flame, keep his finger down on the button and watch as the gas spews out of the lighter and prolongs the flame's life, and maybe... do a few worse things than light a cigarette in this small motel room he got.
the floor was carpeted, it was a red velvet shade that became a dark cherrywood as the burgundy wine he bought from a local bodega spilled onto the carpeted floors; staining it ceaselessly as the half-empty magnum bottle he bought for himself lay on its side as its contents poured out, pooling onto the floor and creating a growing puddle that multiplied in size as the bottle was emptied of all that it had.
he felt over his left hand, his scarred and scratched at hand that endured many sufferings, too much chaos, and... moments of affection that were too fleeting for him to even recollect the feeling of being in those moments. he ran over his knuckles, which were reddened and swollen, what with having decorated the bland, olive green walls of the room with a brand new spanking hole in it that exposed the plain concrete as the dried paint was punched off. he took in a brief, sharp breath as he felt over them; but nothing could ever replicate their touch, no matter how much he ran his fingers over his knuckles, you still were never there.
you couldn't be.
you could never be.
i made a promise to distance myself.
"so..." you uttered in a monotonous voice, your eyes unmoving from the papers that lay strewn in front of you on the coffee table. you sat with your hands on your lap, your lips thinned as you pursed your lips inward; trying to conceal the quiver in your lips, which would give away the sheer weakness you fell victim to when he came home and gave way to the very thing you feared. that he'd divorce you. he'd choose his responsibility as spider man over you, he'd choose the safety of the city, of the world--of the universe--over you.
it's always everything over you, because without everything... where would you be?
"what do you plan to do now?" you asked with a slight crack in your voice, trying to hide the shudder crawling up out of your throat, to conceal the shakiness in your tone. you tried your hardest to remain strong and fortified, even if deep inside, you wanted to cry into the pillows of your couch, scream at him, curse at him for wasting all your efforts into loving him; but then cursing at yourself for knowing you didn't need to put any effort into loving him.
you loved him so much you'd give him your whole life, and you'd do it again and again and again, in every universe.
took a flight, through aurora skies.
peter didn't look your way when he answered, he stared off into a corner in the room, as if the answer to all this confusion, melancholy, and suffering that he's put you through makes any sense. as if the sense of this whole situation was right here, in the living room, but just... doesn't.
"i'll be... i'll be living with aunt may again." he responded in a raspy voice, a sign he'd been smoking again, and in more intense intervals. he scratched his forehead lightly, and as you looked up at him--in search of a meaningful response to a question you had that was on top of a mountain of other questions--you noticed the white of his eyes were tinted red. they were nearly bloodshot, and the bottom of his eyelids were dark, with circles accentuating their roundness; peter hadn't slept a wink last night, and of course, he didn't for the past few days, but you didn't need to know that.
you nodded, not exactly in agreement, what was there to agree about? you certainly weren't happy about all this, you weren't the least bit happy when he came over to collect his things and hand back the rest of the house you two bought together back to you. it all just...
"it's surreal."
peter glances over at you with his reddened eyes, seeing how puffed up and wet yours look. your nose was twitching, you looked as if you were about to sob a whole flood of your tears until your head ached again, but you didn't want to give peter that satisfaction. like hell you'd cry for him. you took in a shaky breath as you continued. "last year, you went on and on about filling our house with happy memories. building this house from scratch like we did, getting a dog after building the doghouse that's now good for firewood--filling our days with laughter and happiness with two kids of our own..." you went on, not feeling the trickling of a tear from the sob you were trying your damn hardest to choke back.
peter sighed as you reminded him of that delusional vision you two shared, those dreams you both worked hard to make a reality, only to have the only reality you two live come crumbling down on both of you. "it is." he replied as he took off his glasses, tears welling up in his eyes that he blinked away. he placed his glasses back on and lightly shook his head as he headed for the door.
honestly, i didn't think about how we didn't say goodbye.
"but those were all delusions of grandeur."
"...i hope you're happy, peter."
and that was the last thing he could remember from this afternoon. they were all lies.
he wasn't staying with aunt may, he was at a dingy motel in who knows where. he was here, wasting his lungs away at his third cigarette box, and wasting thirty dollars worth of that red grape wine whose flavor he abhorred. it tasted salty, actually.
his tears made it all the more unbearable to drink when they mingled together, when he finally let his tears roll down his cheeks and coat his lips.
just see you very soon.
it hurts to be something.
he choked on the burning tobacco that coated his lungs, his breath was getting more and more ragged. he had never smoked this much in his life, not even when uncle benjamin passed. you were his world, his universe--his everything--and then, you were gone.
the worst part was that it was of his own doing.
he didn't want to vandalize this place any more than he already has, the lovely hole he planted would be a constant reminder to him for as long as he decided to mope here and sulk about his regrettable decision that he let go of you. and had he lived a life where he didn't need to let go of all the things nearest and dearest to his heart, he'd've stayed with you forever. he'd've held you forever, kissed you all over forever, never leave a single patch of your body undiscovered and unloved.
"i'd spend eternity with you. if i just wasn't... if things just... just weren't..."
he choked out those unfinished thoughts as he threw himself on the bed, an ache permeating in his chest as he felt the downpour of sobs come raining down on the sheets. he cried, screamed, and wept into those sheets--as though the sheets were the only ones who could ever comprehend his sorrow, could provide him some ease, some comfort, past his horrible, horrible decision of letting you go to protect you.
you once made him feel like he had everything.
you were his everything. and now,
it's worse to be nothing without you.
a/n: tbh this felt kinda rushed, so i'm sorry if it also feels that way for you TT but i hoped y'all enjoyed this, maybe while crying :' ))
tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @sabcandoit @binibinileonara @k4tsu3 @luvstarrstruck @connors-cumslurper @maxoloqy @fictarian
#spider noir#spider noir x reader#spider noir x you#spider noir x y/n#spider noir angst#atsv#atsv x reader#atsv x you#atsv x y/n#atsv angst#atsv imagines#spiderman across the spiderverse#spiderman into the spiderverse#itsv angst
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⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆ creased between smiles
featuring: the red bouquet
summary: in fleeting dreams & fantasies; it may be true that a knight's face must always be smiling but asking for them to purse up their lips just for the sake of your curiousity may be a teensy bit greedy, see...
୨୧ a sincere smile: hallritt is a little perplexed by your strange request to bare all his teeth and grin like his life depends on it. he's familiar with carrying out orders and fulfilling duties but this small plea seems a little different in general. but if a smile is what you want then he'll gladly oblige! it is a lovely smile brimming with amber warmth and moist red that he flashes at you, even bending closer so that you can count all his dimples like stars. you do your best to stifle a giggle at his efforts to please especially when he's always smiling to begin with! oh, hallritt.
୨୧ a beguiling smile: slender fingers hooked underneath his chin and eyes shimmering with delight at the promise of a brand new game, merold pretends to be honoured. his words in response ring ever so soft and polite as always yet you know the searing gaze drumming into your skull is cautious of what is to come. all the same his lips quirk upwards once the realization that no one would ever quite dare to indulge in cat & mouse with him hits. an enchanting smile frigidly strung together by a cupid's bow mouth flits across his cheeks in an all too brief moment. your only complaint is that it seems more of a sneer than a smile but surely you weren't expecting something more without offering anything of your own in return, now were you?
୨୧ a mellow smile: while it may take a few attempts to douse puruth of his lingering daydreams, he is more than happy to listen to whatever you have to say. his features are already painted with laughter, eyes already shaded so crinkly & bright - that the very thing that you had wanted to ask for dies at the tip of your tongue, flying straight out of the window. his manner is innocent as he watches your mouth part and unpart in short quick intervals of trying its best to figure out something else to say, to offer up a plausible excuse of sorts. patience dances at his lips as do yellow sunbeams as he continues to give you the wonderful gift of smile after smile without quite knowing that he has placed exactly what you wanted at your feet.
୨୧ a dainty smile: even fragrant roses pressed against one's teary cheek cannot rival a happy romarriche. a dulcet caress traced across lithe hands and fingers, climbing all the way up to his pretty face is enough for him to flush pink. it's almost impossible for him to deny anything you beg for after that especially when your touch consists of the lightness of rosy peaches and cream. why your wish for a smile- his smile no less- is so adorably precious to him! a delightful curve of his mouth that gradually eases its way across his lips is every bit as alluring as all the flowers you plucked from strangers' gardens in his name. but unlike all those flowers, this one rose was yours to keep; to stroke the petals of over and over again until you fell into a sudden fit of melancholy over the nature of its unattainability.
୨୧ a hungry smile: ever so demanding and prone to noisy tears, rimicha has the makings of a mini spoiled princess. he does not care at all if the praise he keeps getting from you is insincere or even biting, cake crumbs are still cake! so when he pulls onto your sleeve like a bratty little girl and screeches in that insolent tone of his about how you haven't been paying him any attention lately, you resist the urge to pull out your hair follicle by follicle. in your desperation, you practically implore him to smile for once in his ill-will life as a way to shut him up - surprisingly, it works. a stunned cheshire grin stretches his sharp teeth apart as he preens over how much you must like his smile more than anyone else's. a bitter quip finds itself on your tongue but you decide to humour him for once especially if it means you don't have to witness any more flailing dramatics for a while.
୨୧ a dazzling smile: sanah has no shy bone in his entire skeleteon and this trait definitely makes for some interesting conversations. with his hands resting neatly behind his lazing head, some of his curious questions may come across as either awkward to answer or near impossible with your limited amount of knowledge regarding things you have no interest in. and yet his heart and smile is always on raw display to you as it is to everybody else in turn. if you ever happen to be in a terrible mood, his usual smile begins to get bigger and brighter and sunnier until it is amplified to one of the shiniest things you have ever laid eyes on. there's no need to ask, his smile belongs to everyone.
notes: going off of translations here & what little i can infer myself, should have waited until we know more fragmem-wise but couldn't resist writing lol... i'll probably come back to revise this later if i feel like it's rlly inaccurate promise >_<
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captive audience
or: refreshments will be available during the interval!
gn!reader, standard vega content warnings, saturday morning fluffy stuff. i’ll buy you an ice cream if you sit still. a brief interlude for breakfast in bed - is this what slice-of-life is? the concept of a ‘psychic scream’ is borrowed from the lovely @starlitangels, who wrote an excellent fic with geordi and cutie all about it that i thoroughly recommend. warden having a lie-in in just over 3800 words.
series masterlist
main masterlist
Good morning, darling.
It’s cold. Hm. Still tired. Why is it cold? That’s not right. Where did-
Did you miss me?
Oh. It’s Vega. Sulkily, you bury your face a little further into the pillow, eyes still pointedly shut and arms unfairly empty. So rude. He should know better than to leave you to wake up alone. What’s the point in having this nice bed if he’s not going to sleep in it with you?
Mmmm… You pretend to think about it for a moment, before grabbing the edge of the duvet and tucking yourself back in. That’s better. No. Sleepy.
Still sleepy? He sounds sweet, too sweet, and you don’t need to have your eyes open to see that look of false, mocking pity on his face. Poor thing.
(You’ll never admit it, but you… um…)
(Well. You do kind of like it when he does that condescending thing with his voice - you know, the one where he kind of talks down at you and he’s all fake-sad and indulgent and it’s a little bit patronising? It’s probably not meant to be as hot as it is.)
(God, you really are in deep, aren’t you?)
The mattress dips beside you as he sits down, one hand stroking gently over what little of your shoulder he can see. Just because it’s Saturday, it doesn’t mean you can spend the whole morning in bed, you know.
You huff. Someone kept me up late.
And someone kept asking me for more, he replies, more smugly than should be possible at whatever ungodly hour of the morning this is. Or were your desperate cries of my name unrelated, then?
Bastard. You don’t look up, but your hand moves under the duvet - a weak echo of psychokinesis thrums through the air, and you smile into the sheets at the soft thump of the pillow next to you smacking into the back of Vega’s head. Revenge is sweet.
Go ‘way. ‘M sleepy.
Oh, don’t be like that, darling, he says, lightly chastising, but you can hear the smile in his voice at your antics. Would breakfast make it up to you?
Hm. Only if it’s nice. Vega likes to share breakfast with you, but it doesn’t always taste so good. You’ve grown used to the bitterness over time, but it’s too much first thing in the morning - generally, you try and find something a bit less sour to start the day.
He leans down and kisses your horns, once on each side, before getting up from the bed. Anything for you, dear.
You feel his aura disappearing through the door and down the stairs, presumably to go and get something to eat. The sound of him moving around downstairs is strangely soothing, and you find yourself lightly dozing in the warmth as you wait for him to come back.
The blackout curtains keep the room dark, so you don’t have to worry about the light getting in as you nestle yourself nice and deep into the softness of the blankets. Mm, cosy. Soon, all that’s visible of you is the tips of your horns, peeking out from the duvet, and the shape of your tail flicking lazily back and forth underneath it.
You don’t quite fall asleep completely, drifting in the happy darkness with a small, sleepy smile on your face. Before long, you hear the door open, and the sound of something heavy being dragged along the floor. Amusement flickers in Vega’s aura when he spots you, curled up under the covers like a spoilt housecat, which you magnanimously choose to ignore.
Two light taps on your back through the duvet, like he’s knocking on a door. May I come in?
No. Warm.
Rude. He huffs, and you pull the edge of the duvet closer to you with your tail. He always lets the cold air in when he tries to join you. I’m more than happy to keep you warm, if that’s what you want.
Mm. You’re not dignifying that with a response. It’s a very nice offer, but he can’t get you that easily.
He doesn’t say anything for a minute, but through the duvet you hear the muffled sound of a chair being moved across the floor. There’s a sort of quiet thump, like something heavy being put down, and then the mattress dips again as Vega settles down next to your covered form.
Are you sure I can’t persuade you?
On the other side of the room, you’re suddenly aware of a faint stirring of consciousness. Not much, but something. Dim, fuzzy thoughts ripple against the web of magic that fills this room, this house, like a pebble dropped in water.
So that's why he sounds so pleased with himself. I brought you breakfast in bed, you know.
Now that he mentions it… oh, that does sound good. Tentatively, the tip of your tail nudges his side from under the duvet, and you can feel the smile spread across his face.
Be quick. S'cold.
You don't have to tell him twice. To a human eye, it would probably look like a blur, resolving into the lean shape of him sitting up against the headboard, under the covers next to you. He does a decent job of not letting the cold air in, while he does it - pleased, you deign to rest your sleepy head in his nice warm lap.
There’s my darling.
Deft fingers stroke along your horns, scritching lightly around the bases where they meet your skull, and you can’t help the satisfied purr that vibrates low in your chest as your whole body just melts. Soon, you’re just a heavy, happy puddle in Vega’s lap, settled safely in the dark comfort of your duvet, totally content.
His tail curls around to lay gently across your back, curving down over your side. In return, you drape your tail languidly across his legs, the spade at the tip resting on his ankle. It feels good - satisfying, like the feeling of a warm bath.
My sweet, he murmurs into your mind, low and soft and melting. So lovely.
A faint question bubbles through his aura, thrumming in time with yours - with a hum, you give a tiny nod. This is very nice, but you are starting to get hungry now.
He coos gently down at you as he peels back the covers, one hand slipping around your back to pull you up against him properly. At the same time, he knows that sitting up too quickly makes you dizzy - with a little bit of manoeuvring, you're soon settled comfortably against his body as he sits back again.
Enjoying yourself, my love?
Mm-hmm, you nod, lazy smile pressed against the line of his neck and enjoying the warmth of his arms around you. Was nice.
Good.
Wordlessly, he offers you a glass of apple juice with a straw, but you shake your head - he taps the side of the glass, and it turns to orange instead. That’s much better. Your tail sneaks out from under the blanket to take it from him, and you sip delicately at the sugary, delicious juice.
Weak, half-hearted struggling against the rope that binds him to the chair. From this angle, draped against his side with your head on his shoulder and his arm around your back, you have a wonderful view of the tied-up human sitting opposite the bed. Yum.
(He doesn’t tell you where he gets them from, and you don’t ask. You just wave your hand in the direction of the basement door, careful to avoid the soundproofing, and the bloody fingerprints he always leaves on the door handle disappear.)
Vega rests his head lightly on yours, careful not to accidentally impale himself on the sharp points of your horns. Would you like to start, or shall I?
You can go first, you say, gesturing to your unfinished drink. Gonna finish this first.
Turning his attention to the human at the end, you watch as Vega’s eyes narrow. Magic swirls around the man’s body, soaking through his skin, until he’s thrashing in the chair - blunt fingernails scrape at the sides of the seat and stifled growls tear from his throat as the human tries to break free of the bindings that hold him still.
He feels angry, vengeful glare aimed straight at Vega, and you can imagine the sort of memories that are being broadcast into his head right now. Replays of past sessions, perhaps, or maybe some from Vega’s personal collection - humans tend to get all self-righteous and cruel when he shows them memories of their predecessors. Before long, the familiar sadistic urges kick in, and the demon beside you sighs happily as he begins to eat.
You - mmm… His contentment bleeds into your aura as he swallows, greedy and grasping and totally delightful. Sure you don’t want any, darling? It’s delicious.
‘M sure. You’re saving yourself for something sweeter. For now, the secondhand satisfaction of feeling Vega eat, sating himself on this writhing prisoner at the foot of the bed, is a wonderful way to whet your appetite - if you had a real stomach inside your tummy, you’re sure it would be rumbling.
Your arms are curled around his shoulders to keep you close to him - idly, you fiddle with the collar of his shirt, before stroking your claws up over the nape of his neck and tangling your fingers loosely in his hair. It’s so soft, shiny and smooth as you run your fingers through it. He doesn’t say anything, head tipping ever so slightly back as he relaxes into your touch, and the warmth of his scalp is strangely comforting.
The two of you stay there in comfortable silence as Vega eats, broken only by the occasional hiss or snarl from his meal across the room. He takes his time, leisurely drinking in the sadistic energy that permeates the air, and you sip quietly at your glass of orange juice. Is this what humans mean by domestic bliss?
Mmm… Soon enough, he’s eaten his fill, the flat of his tail swishing contentedly back and forth over your tummy. Lovely.
The magic spearing the human in place dissipates, and he slumps heavy against the bindings of the chair. Ready yet, darling?
Nodding, you finish your juice with a final sluuuurp, looking up at Vega with a big, sticky smile. Ready.
Anything in particular?
You take a moment to think. What would you like for breakfast?
Umm… Something happy? Like the, uh… Oh, what's the name of it again? You've seen it in humans before, but it's not one of the usual ones they teach you at the Department. You know when they see something cute? And it’s so cute that it makes them go all weird?
I’ll try, he replies, though he sounds a little unsure. Weird how?
They sort of go a bit… violent? Like it’s so cute that they just want to cuddle it and crush it and kill it?
Oh, I know the one. Does it go like this?
Your empty glass fizzles away into nothing as he suddenly sweeps you up towards him, gathering you up tightly in his arms and kissing you all over your face. His claws twist in the back of your shirt, and his tail twines lightning-fast around and around with yours - in a flash, you're flat on your back against the pillows.
Wh- Vega! You laugh as he smothers you with kisses, flailing wildly in a half-hearted attempt to fend him off, but you don’t really mean it. You - no! - Vega, Vega, it tickles!
Is that so? he replies, smiling wickedly down at you as he easily pins your struggling form to the mattress. Vaguely, you feel your horns tearing through the fabric of a pillowcase, but neither of you really notice. I don't believe you…
He teases you with the promise of a real kiss, pressing his lips lightly to yours over and over, pulling away just before you can do anything - it’s torturous, not being allowed to kiss him the way you want to. Playing along, you melt back into the pillows, letting him think you’re giving in before-
Ha!
Determined, you twist up to throw your weight as hard as you can against his shoulder, knocking him back in surprise. He recoils and you’re able to quickly wrestle your way on top of him, climbing over him like a cat until you’re perched atop his hips, leaning forwards to grab his wrists and trap them either side of his head. Gotcha!
So you have, he says, and you watch appreciatively as he makes a show of resisting, arms flexing and muscles tensing with faux-struggle. Even though you both know how much stronger he is than you, you’ll still enjoy the view if he wants to show you. Consider me your prisoner, my little warden. Whatever shall I do?
Pretending to think, you tap your chin lightly with the tip of your tail. Maybe I’ll make you beg for mercy.
Oh, I’m always at your mercy, darling. He grins, fangs on full display, cruel and charming and ever so handsome. Didn’t you know?
The sweet spotlight of his attention, and it’s so, so bright. You throw your arms around his neck, abandoning the pretence, and kiss him properly - his hands fall to your waist in return, palms warm against your skin, and you sigh contentedly as his tongue runs gently across your bottom lip.
Love you.
Your claws catch in the sheets, pulling him up to you with your quiet admission. Eyes closed, you don’t know if he’s looking, but you feel it - the subtle sting of flattery, that turns quickly to a deep, aching fondness.
Closer, closer, your tail sneaking down to wrap around his. His horns click against yours, and it satisfies something deep and instinctive inside you. As I love you, my sweet.
Something faint bounces off your aura from behind - irritated, you can’t help but hiss at the interruption. What is that?
Ah.
He doesn’t stop kissing you, but you can feel that stupid smirk pulling at his lip as your tongue brushes over his fangs. I think your breakfast might be getting a little restless.
With a start, you remember - fuck, that human’s still here! Vega jolts back in surprise as you suddenly whip around to glare at the interloper, annoyed at by the interruption to what was shaping up to be a very nice kiss indeed. He’s clearly been watching you two, but he can’t hear your conversation - the chair he’s tied to wobbles as he startles in fear, recoiling from the sight of your bared fangs and eyes that must surely have turned black.
Now, now, my love, Vega murmurs into your mind, a faint spark of amused pride smothered beneath a thick layer of faux-gentility. It’s not nice to play with your food.
It’s not nice to get in my way, you grumble, wrinkling your nose in distaste. Stupid human.
Slowly, Vega’s tail curves around your middle, guiding you gently down to sit next to him against the headboard. Stupid or not, you need to eat.
He doesn’t sound like he’s going to budge on this - and anyway, you really are quite hungry now. You scowl at the human once more for good measure, relishing the terror in his face as your lip curls and your claws dig into the duvet, before giving in with a low huff.
What was it you wanted, darling? He wraps an arm around your shoulders to pull you into him, settling you comfortably with your back to his chest. Oh, yes. I remember.
You’re still not sure what exactly the one you asked for is called, but it’s clearly not an emotion this human is used to. Vega skewers him with a hard stare as the room grows thick with magic, fragments of borrowed memory jammed into the brain as he tries to stimulate the right flavour of feelings for you.
After about thirty seconds, he manages to get the feeling right - you feel it click, the slightly-hazy sensation of induced emotion. Go on, he says. There’s plenty.
Relaxing into Vega's chest, you reach out and start to eat. The taste isn't quite as clear as natural emotion normally is, a little blurry with magic, but it's still delicious. Hungrily, you gulp down the smooth, beautiful lightness, like sweet meringue and cream - the mixture of aggression and adoration makes it crispy and chewy all at once. You curl up in his lap as you eat, pleasantly warm, watching the tiny dust motes tumbling through the air and licking your lips after every bite.
After a little while he laughs, and you’re briefly confused until you notice what he’s laughing at - your tail, softly swaying from side to side behind you with satisfied contentment. Embarrassed, you smack him in the side with it, before pointedly turning your nose up at him and going back to your tasty breakfast.
When you’ve had enough, you flop back against Vega with a big smile, luxuriating in the lovely fullness of your tummy and the warmth of his body against yours. Yum. Thank you.
You’re welcome, darling, he replies, abandoning the stream of magic that’s been powering your meal in favour of cupping your face in both hands. Now, I believe we were interrupted…
Finally! He meets your smile with his own, kissing you hard and making your body go all hot and tingly from tip to tail. With the duvet tangled around your legs, the angle is a little funny, but your fizzy mind doesn't care. You slide your hands up his chest only slightly clumsily, over his shoulders and up into his hair, just as his tail starts to sneak under your shirt - and you’d let him, if you weren’t so annoyingly aware of the pair of curious eyes on your back.
What - mmm… You trail off as he starts to kiss down your jaw, eyelids fluttering as he nips teasingly at the soft spot just under your ear. What about the human?
He doesn’t respond out loud, but one hand flicks carelessly towards the end of the bed - there’s a sudden shimmer of cloaking magic, before an almighty thud! echoes through the house from downstairs. You jump out of reflex, startled, but Vega’s strong hands keep you just where you are, not letting you out of his grasp to turn around.
I’ll deal with him later. He kisses you again, deep and hungry, and it’s an excellent distraction. There’s something else I want to do first.
Something?
He shrugs mischievously at your raised eyebrow, eyes bright and wicked as they rake over your body. Someone.
Is it bad, the flattered feeling that you get whenever he just… says things like that? Even if it’s not, it’s almost enough to make you forget about the faint whimpering coming from the living room below you - it sounds like the human must have fallen, phased, through the floor of your bedroom and hit the carpet downstairs. Although it sounds like he won’t be going anywhere soon, you’d rather not take any chances. A little bit of telepathic magic should do the trick.
Closing your eyes, magic starts to build under your skin, before being channelled into the human downstairs. It washes around inside his skull, filling it up and up and up with more telepathic power than his human brain can handle. You’ve heard humans call it a ‘psychic scream’ for the way it tends to manifest in their heads as a painful migraine - it seems like a pretty accurate name, although you’ve always known it as ‘overloading’. Demons and humans often have quite a few names for very similar magical techniques, so it’s not surprising that it would be called something different here on Elegy.
(You’d asked Vega what he calls it, but he wasn’t very helpful. He just calls it effective.)
The scream builds and builds, approaching its peak, and you feel the human’s mind begin to collapse - just a little more, and he’ll be nicely unconscious. Carefully, you pour more and more magic into the human’s mind, gushing and splashing through his brain until-
-ahh!
Sharp fangs break your concentration, a sudden spike of pleasure igniting your body as Vega’s teeth dig into your neck - instinctively, all of that magic rushes out of you like a tsunami, ricocheting out at full strength in all directions. Your head spins as you feel the human downstairs lose consciousness, and with a dizzy wave of dread, you realise that half the houses on this street have gone the same way.
Vega! Half-panicked and half-embarrassed, you slap his shoulder hard with the flat of your tail. Now look what you’ve done!
He has the gall to laugh, the bastard, easily tugging you back into bed with one hand when you make to get out and check if you’ve accidentally knocked out the whole fucking street. God, this is a covert nightmare - what if someone reports it as suspicious? Oh, you’ll have to go and wake them up again - and the memory modification, you’ll have to make them forget - or maybe come up with a reason? A freak accident, or a gas leak or something - yes, a gas leak might be a good one, or should you-
You worry too much, my love.
Vega’s voice knocks you out of your thoughts, frustratingly calm as he envelopes you in a soothing haze of serenity that forces your racing mind to slow. Here. Let me.
His eyes close, magic surging in the room, and it’s so thick that you feel it on your skin like a lightning storm about to strike. Slowly, house by house, you feel the humans waking up again - no panic, no fear, just carrying on as they were before. You shake your head slightly in what might be disbelief, or perhaps resignation. Of course he can just fix it without even trying.
Once all of the humans - except, obviously, the one downstairs - are back on their feet, he drags you properly back under the covers. Better?
You nod, relieved, fidgeting around until you’re back to your prior, very comfortable position laying on top of him. Yeah.
Good. Vega’s tail curls smoothly around your ankle before slowly starting to drag up the inside of your calf. A silent question, and he can feel exactly what your answer is. Now then, where were we…?
At last, you’re properly alone. His head falls back in delight as you press a thank-you kiss to his cheek, one hand coming up to cup the back of your head as you slowly make your way lower and lower, and it’s a good thing you’ve already had your breakfast. Something tells you it’s going to be a very, very long morning in bed today.
this is an original work by @gingerbreadmonsters - please do not repost or misattribute
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#redacted asmr#redacted audio#redacted fluff#redacted vega#redacted warden#ginger writes#gingerbreadmonsters
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Din Djarin/Reader | 2.8k | Rated M | afab reader, no y/n, modern setting, pining, neighbors to lovers, single parent Din Djarin, slight/vague age difference
Din’s new neighbor continues to draw his attention.
Modern Din/Scholar!Reader
Part 2/? to ephemeris
read on ao3
He avoids you for the next few days, uncomfortable with the knowledge of what he did, the knowledge of having heard something so intimate without you being aware.
It lasts only until he hears a crash from his balcony one late evening. He pauses from where he is washing the dishes from dinner, afraid for a brief moment that Grogu managed to unlock the door again. A babble makes him realize that his son was currently spread out on the rug watching something on his tablet, so whatever it was that made the noise was thankfully not from him.
Drying his hands and tossing the hand towel over his shoulder, Din goes to the sliding glass door and peers outside. It’s dark, but he can see movement from the direction of your patio. The sound of a muffled curse draws his interest, and he slides the door open and steps into the cool evening air.
He can see the top of your head over the partition and walks over to look over the concrete to where you are standing with your hands on your hips.
“You ok?” Din ventures, and you jump at the sound of his voice. Turning to face him, there’s a look of embarrassed frustration on your soft features.
“Oh! Yeah,” you breathe. “Sorry, was I being too loud?”
Din shakes his head. “I heard a crash.”
You sigh. “I was trying to get some equipment up onto the roof but it’s higher than I thought.” He notices a jumble of metal at your feet, the source of the crashing noise.
He raises a brow. “Why are you trying to get onto the roof?”
“There’s a meteor shower tonight,” you explain. “I want to watch it through my telescope, and the roof is the best place.”
Din looks up at the edge of the roof above your heads. He had no idea what you had thought would work - he doubted even he could hoist himself up onto the roof from his balcony. Not to mention while holding a telescope - the thing was nearly as big as you were.
“Can’t you see it from your balcony?” He asks, and you shake your head.
“No. The angle’s not right.” He sees a glimmer of disappointment in your eyes as you look up at the sky. “Too bad. I was looking forward to this one.”
Din doesn’t like that look on your face. Residual shame gives way to care, and he has an idea.
“Meet me outside in a couple of minutes,” he tells you, inclining his head towards the front of his apartment. “Bring your stuff.”
He meets you outside his apartment a few moments later, having put on a jacket and bundling Grogu up in a hat and scarf. You eye the two of them curiously, telescope in hand.
“Cute hat,” you muse at the child with a smile, and Grogu pulls on his ear flaps shyly. Din locks his door, and motions for you to follow him down the quiet hallway.
“There’s a maintenance room with roof access,” he explains, watching as Grogu runs ahead. Din had scoped out all parts of the building before deciding to move in, and discovered said door that lead to the roof.
He hears you tsk at yourself. “Wow. That…is a way better idea than trying to climb onto the roof.”
Din kneels in front of the heavy door at the end of the hallway, fishing something out of his coat. You peer over his shoulder, amused interest at what he is doing.
“Lock picking?” You ask as he wiggles the lock, tools pushed into the rusty deadbolt. “Why didn’t you do that to my door when I got locked out?”
“Didn’t want to make you nervous,” Din mumbles, and you laugh.
“Good point.”
Fortunately for you, the building manager hadn’t yet realized how unsecured the door was, and after a few moments it unlocks with a satisfying ‘click’.
“What other skills are you hiding?” Din hears you tease from behind him. He clears his throat, adamantly telling himself that it was an innocent comment and not one laced with innuendo.
He stands with a grunt, opening the door. Bending down, he picks Grogu up and leads you into the dark room and up a short set of stairs. You let out a pleased hum as the three of you step out onto the roof of the complex - the city skyline glimmering in the distance.
“That was much easier,” you smile. “Thanks.”
“It’s a little bright up here,” Din mentions. The complex is on the outskirts of the city center but light pollution still has an impact. “You’ll be able to see the meteor shower still?”
“Yep,” you say cheerily, putting down your telescope. He watches you set up, Grogu squirming in his arms. “I mean, it won’t be as impressive as being outside city limits, but with the telescope it’ll be just fine.”
You angle the telescope in the direction you want it, peering into the eyepiece and adjusting various cogs and levers. You’re mumbling to yourself while you do it, interlaced with the hum of a familiar song Din can’t quite place.
He swallows roughly and looks away. Not because he finds your focus attractive, and distracting.
“There we go,” you chirp triumphantly, looking up at the sky. Din follows your gaze, squinting up at the star-speckled darkness.
“I don’t see anything,” he says.
“You will,” you assure him. “Just keep looking.”
It’s several moments before he detects a flash of something. He lets out a small huff of amusement, pointing up at the sky for his son. “Did you see that?” He asks, and Grogu shakes his head.
“Does he want to look through here?” You ask from your bent position, looking up at him and Grogu. “It might be easier for him.”
Din kneels, sitting his son on his bent knee. You lower the telescope so Grogu can peer into the eyepiece, checking it once to make sure it’s still focused where you want it.
“Go ahead,” you encourage him gently. Grogu leans forward to look into the eyepiece, one eye closing into a squint. A moment of silence, and then the smallest gasp of surprise as he sees a magnified version of the meteors flashing above.
“Cool, huh?” You smile, pleased at the child’s reaction. “You know, I was only a little older than you when I got my first telescope. It was barely more than a magnifying glass, but it inspired me so much that I decided I wanted to study the stars when I grew up.”
Din tries to focus on Grogu, and not how you’re bent so close to him that he can smell the perfume you’re wearing. His kid babbles excitedly, eye glued to the telescope, and he can’t help the grin that softens his coarse features.
He hears you clear your throat, and glances at you. You tilt your head at Grogu. “Is he…?”
“He’s non-verbal,” Din explains. “He can’t really speak, but he understands just fine.”
“I see,” you nod. Turning back to Grogu, you move the telescope slightly to point out different astronomical bodies, explaining what he’s seeing in a gentle tone. It makes Din’s heart thrum, watching you interact with his child. He’s very protective of Grogu, and the child in turn does not open up to people easily, but something about you puts both of them at ease.
The sky grows darker, and the air chillier. Grogu presses his tiny body closer to Din’s and lets out a yawn.
“It’s past his bedtime,” Din murmurs, standing with a low grunt. “I should get him tucked in.”
“Ok,” you reply, adjusting your telescope back to your viewing height. “I think I’ll stay here a little while longer. I’ll lock the door behind me, don’t worry.”
With a short nod, Din turns to leave before you call out his name. He turns back to see a starry smile on your face, and he is grateful for the chill air that cools the flush of his body.
“Thank you again,” you say quietly. He clears his throat, nods, and then takes his dozing child back down the stairs to their apartment.
After putting Grogu to bed, he goes to his own bedroom and realizes again with a pang of guilt that his bed is still pushed against the shared wall. He told himself he would move it, but found every excuse not to - it’s more convenient here, it would make him have to rearrange everything else in the room, the outlets on the other wall don’t work as well.
Din thinks back to your jest at his lockpicking, and the smile on your face when you thanked him as he climbs under his covers. He lies there, imagining the star-speckled sky above the ceiling, and only falls asleep once he hears the soft sounds of you returning to your own apartment and sliding into your bed - just a few inches of wall between the two of you.
—
The sun shining through the curtain he forgot to close and the muffled sound of something dripping rouses him from sleep later in the morning than he usually wakes. Groggy, he peers at the clock and curses when he sees the time. He likes to get up early, before Grogu - but based on the sounds outside his shut bedroom door, his child had already risen.
Marching out to the living room, he glances around for his son, concern growing when he doesn’t see him. He looks at the front and balcony doors - both still locked, so Grogu is still here somewhere.
A giggle and a splash make him turn and head toward the bathroom. Opening the door, he gapes at the sight of his child stuffing socks, stuffed frogs, and who knows what else down the toilet, laughing gleefully as he flushes and the water drips up and out all over the place.
“No no no,” Din rushes forward, nearly slipping on the wet floor, and scoops Grogu up and sits him in the bathtub. “We don’t flush toys!” He chides, sticking his arm into the toilet bowl to try to fish what he can out. Grogu peers over the side of the tub, amused at the sight of his father elbow-deep in the plumbing.
After a couple of hours of cleaning up what he could and giving his soaked child a bath, Din sits at the dining room table tiredly and watches as Grogu eats his oatmeal. They’re going to be late to daycare drop-off this morning, but he’s already messaged the teacher to let them know. Din loves his kid, but does look forward to the few hours a day he is in someone else’s hands.
As he returns, he notices a truck belonging to a plumbing company parked outside the complex. He groans, and as he climbs the stairs hopes that they’re not there for what he thinks they’re there for.
He’s not so lucky. He rounds the corner towards his door and sees you outside your own, hands on your hips. You peer inside your open apartment, and as he approaches you turn to greet him.
“Hey…are you having any plumbing issues?” You ask.
Din shakes his head and hopes it’s believable.
“Mm,” you respond. “Lucky you, I guess. Something happened and when I went to get ready this morning there was water pouring out of every drain in my bathroom.”
Din winces, hoping you didn’t see.
“That’s…unfortunate,” he mumbles, and you sigh.
“Yeah.” He watches you bend down to grab your bag. “I was hoping to get some work done today, but with all the work going on in my apartment I don’t think I’ll be able to focus. Guess I’ll head to a cafe or something.”
“Do you want to come inside?” Din asks before he can stop himself, tilting his head towards his apartment. “So-so you don’t have to leave,” he clarifies.
You purse your lips. “You sure?” He nods. It’s the neighborly thing to do, he tells himself.
And technically it’s his fault your apartment is flooding…but you don’t need to know that.
“Ok,” you agree.
—
He tries not to hover, or watch you work, but you’re distracting.
Sat at his dining room table, laptop open, surrounded by papers. There’s a focused look in your eye. You chew on the end of your pen absently.
Din doesn’t let anyone in his apartment, but here you are, sitting cross-legged on his chair, elbow propped up on the table like this is a regular occurrence.
He can hear Fett laughing at him now.
He sits at his kitchen counter, trying to look busy with his own projects. You’re completely absorbed in your work, and he’s completely absorbed in you.
Din hears you sigh, and watches as you lean back and stretch your arms up, cracking your neck with a satisfied groan. His mouth goes dry at the sight of your neck, stretched and bared.
“Sorry,” you mumble. “Bad posture.”
He nods towards his couch. “You could sit there. It’s more comfortable.” You shrug and smile.
“I won’t get anything done if I’m comfortable,” you joke. “But I guess I could use a break.” You get up, stretching your back, and sit softly on the end of the sofa. He watches you look around his apartment curiously.
“So,” you ask. “Is it just you and Grogu?”
Din’s brow raises. “Yes. Who else would there be?”
You shrug again, scratching the side of your nose. “I don’t know,” you say. “Do you have a partner?”
He clears his throat. “No. Not for a long time,” he replies.
“Mmm.” You lean your head back into the couch, closing your eyes. Din wonders what that noise means. He wonders why you’d ask that question.
“Do…you?” He ventures, trying to sound casual. He sees you smile without opening your eyes.
“Nope,” is your simple answer.
Well. Now what?
He stands, going over to the sliding glass door, peering out. The day is halfway over. There’s a while to go before he has to pick up Grogu, before the work in your apartment is done.
You shift on the couch, catching his attention. You’re leaning up against the arm, looking at him with a small smile. He swallows roughly.
Padding over to the couch, he sits a respectable distance from you. Not too close. He wants this to be in your hands.
You scoot a little closer, a mischievous glimmer in your eyes. He doesn’t slide away, even as his heart thrums faster and faster.
As you lean in, he can see the way your eyelashes flutter.
“I’m gonna do something,” you mumble lowly, and Din sees your eyes flicker to his lips. “If you don’t want me to, it’s ok. Just…say so.”
Your lips are soft against his. He doesn’t reciprocate for the first few seconds, but as he feels you pull away he chases your mouth with his, opening his lips to deepen the kiss.
He can feel you smile against him. One of your hands comes up to settle softly on his collarbone. His head is tilted, taller form bent down to meet your probing mouth.
Maker, you’re a good kisser. You’re unhurried, savoring the feeling of his plush lips, the slight scruff of his facial hair. He hopes he’s not disappointing in comparison. It’s been a while.
The hand not on his collarbone goes up to his cheek, and you dart your tongue out to swipe over his bottom lip. Din lets out a groan at that, and he can feel you shiver against him.
Your motions become a little sloppier, with a sense of restrained tension in the little pants you’re giving off. They sound like the ones he heard when you were touching yourself through the wall - and he swallows them like he told himself he would.
A shrill noise startles the two of you apart. It’s his phone, ringing from his pocket. Cursing, he pulls it out and apologizes before answering. You clear your throat and scoot backward away from him.
It’s Grogu’s daycare. They’ve had a staff member call out sick, so they’re closing early and are calling to have the kids picked up early. Din agrees, and hangs up, not looking at you.
“They’re probably nearly done in my apartment,” you say softly. “I’ll…let you go.”
“Yeah,” he mumbles in response. He stays seated as you rise and gather your things. He regains use of his limbs as you walk towards his door and slip your shoes back on. Standing, he watches you from the center of his living room.
“Thanks again,” you maintain, and cast him a shy smile. Din nods and watches as you leave. At the sound of the lock engaging he groans and rubs his hands over his eyes.
What has he gotten himself in to?
#din djarin x reader#the mandalorian x reader#din x reader#mando x reader#the mandalorian#reader insert
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