#it might not sound like it but i promise it makes sense | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

neet-elite · 21 hours

Text

↳ EVENT 32. M!SYDNEY (Date Night & Aphrodisiac)

Pairing: P!M!Sydney / F!Reader Genre: Smut 18+ WC: 2,491 Warnings: aphrodisiac, public setting, blowjob, premature ejaculation, virgin sydney, religious contexts Prompt(s): 03 — date night + 13 — aphrodisiac Event Masterlist: CLICK HERE!!

A/N: mm... aphrodisiac prompt my beloved... we've had so much corrupted/fallen sydney recently that i thought i'd explore this topic with sydney the faithful :D it was a lot of fun <3 tysm for taking part in the event!

When you had agreed so enthusiastically to go on a date with him, he couldn't quite quell the butterflies in his tummy no matter how hard he tried. Giddy with excitement, rushing with you hand in hand to his proposed date spot; a little further into the forest from the temple, not so deep that it'd become an issue, but a quiet little spot he likes to visit and relax alone at sometimes. A private location, idyllic in nature. Already set up perfectly for your date, a little picnic in the sun, shaded by the too tall trees and out of the way from the majority of people. Sure, one or two strangers may pass by here and there, but it's secluded enough, don't you think? He's proud of his choice for your date. Double, even triple checking that you're happy on the blanket he had prepared for you, because he thinks you suit the setting so flawlessly.

The sun shining down on you so prettily, ah, you're such a sight for sore eyes... Warmth doting upon you about as much as he does, smiling from ear to ear in serene joy simply from existing near you, never mind when he periodically remembers: he's on a date with you right now.

He couldn't have expected things to end up the way they did, right?

Truth be told, he hadn't expected you to accept his advances in the first place. Little ol church boy walking up to you with fidgety hands, a nervous smile tugging on his lips, hopeful as he was, he had been expecting casual rejection. Which wouldn't have been an issue! He's just happy to be surprised is all. Because, out of everyone that you could have chosen to spend time with today, the reminder that you've picked him has his chest tight with love. A growing affection he's doing his best to navigate in the most respectful way, hence the date today. Because you deserve the world in his opinion! You deserve to be treated right, and that means slow, right? An easing into the relationship, making sure you know just how much he appreciates all that you are, have been, and ever will be, with gentle glances and even softer touches of his hand atop his. He'll take his time in courting you, to show you how serious he is about you. Regardless of how difficult it might be to withhold his true feelings for now.

"It's nice today, isn't it?" He prompts you, though he dares not look towards you. Gaze hidden amongst the tress instead, taking in the beautiful sight before him— for you are far too pretty for him to bear, especially with the way you look under the golden hue of the sun. A gentlemen never stares, does he? Though he feels it deep in his heart, and even deeper in his tummy, that he'd much rather look at you forever. A genuine burn in his chest from how badly he wants to make you feel as pretty as he finds you, because you're worth it. Because he loves you, he realises.

In such a simple conversation to, incapable of hindering the breathy laughter from escaping his lips at your plain response of: "It is, you picked a nice place, Syd."

Because he can hear the love saturating your words, genuine tone turning his heart into a stuttering mess at how thankful you sound; he can take a little peek, can't he? Just a small one, turning to offer you a sun bright smile of his own at your hidden confession.

Hand on your own, he can feel the love radiating from you too, you know. Can sense the affection lacing your voice, swatting away your teasing what's funny? with a brief nothing, promise. Because how does one explain that the clouds are so far out of reach? It's a simple fact, is it not? That he loves you. The light-hearted manner of not only the conversation, but of the day as a whole gets to him, y'know? In such an innocent way too, your smile wrapping him up in one big cosy blanket, the sun beating on his back whispering sweet nothings as he enjoys the cool breeze between the trees by your side.

He wishes every day could be like this, dripped in honey. So sugary sweet that he'd like to choke on it, on you. The thought alone causing him to cough at the casual impurity, instead taking in his surroundings as a distraction.

The things you do to him... They feel illegal, honestly.

It's not too terrible to have to tear his gaze off of you though, the surrounding forest is a pretty sight indeed. It's part of the reason why he picked to bring you here, to let you in on his secret little paradise— isn't is such a lovely setting? Especially for a date, hidden behind the bushes, placed upon an old picnic blanket to gaze at the flora and fauna in idly chatter. In particular, a strikingly beautiful white bud catches his eye, leaving your side for but a moment to stretch over towards it and— pick!

You'd suit it, is all he's thinking to himself. Humming a playful tune as he returns to your side, flower in hand. A quick sniff at it reveals a sweet scent, almost sickly so. Overwhelming his senses in a pleasant way, despite how overpowering it is. Typical, he thinks to himself, that it reminds him of you, then.

"Here," He smiles, turning to face you once more only to lift the flower up to your head. "It suits you perfectly, I think." His words and light to match his touch, helping to tuck your hair behind your ear to make room for the flower; it's one he's never seen before, but he's happy to have found it when he leans back to admire the artwork that you are.

Your rosy red cheeks compliment the brilliant white of the flower flawlessly, he finds. The downright adorable giggle you let out at his attention fills his heart so full with love, fit to burst if he's honest with himself, and he can't help but to lean into you some more, head on your shoulder to inhale some more of that pretty scent exuded from the flower.

Only, it smells a little stronger now that you're adoring it. The breathy quality of your voice when you thank him briefly is intoxicating too, his brows furrowing in utter confusion at the way his cock twitches just barely to the sound. Of course, it's only natural that he finds every part of you attractive, including your voice, but... Well, he's done well to avoid temptation until now. So then why now?

You make it just so easy for him to ignore his worried thoughts, though. Smoothing your thumb over his own, dragging his hand to your thigh to rest against gently before you speak. It's comforting, how easily he melts into you. How he wants for nothing more than to merge against you, to become one.

"It's warm, don't you think?"

Thrown out of his more indulgent thoughts, he takes a second to catch up to your words. Struggling to think through the apparent fog in his brain, but he gets there eventually. And, well, now that you mention it... He does feel a little hotter than usual, though he instinctively puts it down to the sun shining a little more through the trees and onto his back. "A little," He concurs, humming in faux thought as a wave of that sweet scent washes over him again, and the heat immediately increases, travelling through what feels like his veins and up to his throat, leaving him a little choked up. "Ah, no, I see what you mean now..." He corrects himself.

Still his brows furrow with uncertainty. See, he's never felt quite so... Heated before, not even when in close proximity with you. His head leaning harder against your shoulder, twisting a little to try and huff in more of the flowers scent down his throat— oh, and it's so nice too... Even if he's unsure as to why he did it, he finds himself unable to stop. Sniffing and huffing around your ear, drinking down as much of the smell the pretty flower has to offer him until—

Ah, you looks so cute facing him with that pretty pout, y'know? Sinful, in fact, so close to him that he can almost taste your breath. Innate nature begging him to lean in, to inch just a little closer, head dizzy at the mere sight of your sulky lips that he almost gives in to his deep seated wants.

But you move before he does, dipping your head low, lower, nuzzling against his crotch for his cock to twitch against his pants at and— "Ah— L-Love? I'm not— Not sure if you should, oh—"

Try as he might to dissuade you, trembling hands matching his shaky voice as he places a hand adopt your head, he intends on helping you rise again, but he feels so weak right now. All heady and woozy, as if a spell has been cast over his entire existence and he can do naught but watch with lewd interest as you swiftly unbutton and unzip his pants.

His cock already strains against his underwear, a wet patch obviously forming for him to stare intently at. He's never been quite so easy before, the feeling of your breath alone panting against his clothed cock is enough to render him powerless, helpless to fend off the creeping lust pooling in his core as you salivate over his weighty cock. Untouched cock, the way you lean down to kiss up and down his length over his underwear prompts him to bite down on his bottom lip, to dig his nails into your scalp just a little harder, a voiceless thanks for how good even that alone feels, leaning back on his free palm to inadvertently thrust his hips against your face.

He really doesn't mean to do it, acting off of mere instincts given the way you're offering yourself up to him right now, but he can hardly be upset at your reaction to his boldness. His breathing laboured above you, caught between giving in to your pleading tongue running up and down his cock, or to respect his faith and push you away before things go too far.

But, ever the pedantic, you act before he has a chance to decide. Fishing his cock out of his underwear with practiced precision, the feeling of his tip rubbing against the rough fabric of his underwear causing him to whine low and eagerly, a sound he's not used to making, that causes his cheeks to heat the second he makes it. And the fact that you haven't even dignified him the right of removing his underwear, merely popping his cock out of the little hole on the side; he can't quite explain it, but the way you seem so downright needy right now, excitement present in your trembling touch of his cock— God, the first time you've touched it, yeah? Do you like it? Does it feel nice to hold? Don't you wanna stroke it? Suck on it?

Rather than voicing his thoughts, he simply moans. Fraught with need, it's the first time he's felt you touch him, and it's almost too much to bare already. Whines tumbled from his usually sealed tight lips, openly voicing his appreciation for your depraved touch as you manhandle his cock to your lips, smearing the precum all over them for him to gasp at. He wants to praise you, to tell you just how much he loves having your hands all over him, how happy he is that you seem to want him too, but he feels so dumb right now. Became putty in your hands, too dazed by the sight of the top of your head as he reflexively thrusts against your lips a little, something he wouldn't ever dream of doing, but he can't help himself right now. "It's— It's really good, love..." He manages to choke out, cutting his harsh breaths off with an exaggerated moan, the moan of a virgin getting his cock sucked off for the first time ever.

Except, all you've really done is engulfed his tip. Swirled your tongue around his cock head enough to leave him gasping for air, his previous lazy posture to enjoy your touch now turned more desperate, almost doubled over himself from how overwhelming good it feels to have your lips wrapped around him, nice and tight. It's... God, it's difficult for him to describe just how much he adores the warm and wet feeling your mouth offers him, his eyes squeezing shut as if commanded to because you're making him feel unfairly pleasured. Tainting his otherwise good boy character, turning him into something a bit more dishevelled, a little more degenerate, and all it took was some kitten licking.

About to commend your efforts once more, you effectively shut him up by swallowing some more of his twitchy cock, tongue running along every throb, sucking every pulse out of him as precum surely stains your tongue all salty. He hopes you enjoy the taste, the hand on your head automatically begging you to go deeper, faster with your sucking off so that he can feel even better, adding a little pressure to your head to help aid you in his request.

It's an immediate mistake, though. He knows it the moment you abide by his selfish request, the second your nose rubs against his pelvis and he's cumming, long and hard down your tight little throat and— and— "Fuck—!" He lets slip, a strangled sounding moan quickly following from how heavenly it feels to fill your mouth up, primal nature imploring him to thrust down your throat some more to make sure that you can swallow it all up, leave you all sticky and coated and his.

The need to claim doesn't dissipate as he finishes up either, milking himself against your perfect little tongue before jumping you, instantly, desperate for more of you now that he's had a single taste. Fucked out of his mind, disorientation swelling within him at the sight of you under him, the pretty white flowers surrounding your soft, pretty, pliable body as he incidentally pushes you into a bundle of them by the bushes is addictive, coaxing, almost, in how you reach out for him so obscenely. As if begging to be ruined, by him, right?

He's came this far, he might as well dip a little further. If you don't like to take things slow, then he'll happily indulge you with glazed over eyes and lolling tongues. And more than that, he feels incapable of doing anything other than ruining.

And he thinks it's all your fault.

#500 event!#dol smut #degrees of lewdity smut #sydney the faithful smut #sydney the faithful

36 notes · View notes

split-spectrum · 21 hours

Text

Water and Rock

Chapter 15/16

Pairing: Obi Wan x FemReader

Chapter Length: 9K

Warnings/Tags: explicit content, angst, smut, unhappy ending

Description: There are only so many excuses a master and padawan can make to kiss under "extenuating circumstances" before circumstances stop arising and start being created. You are an expert at your craft - a Jedi knight in service as a spy for the Republic. When your former master Obi Wan joins you on a mission, it's clear things aren't the same as they once were. The trials you face together may break your bond, or turn it into something else entirely.

side note: can't believe we're finally at the second to last chapter :')

☆☆☆

Your breath is slow. Your shoulders are relaxed. Your muscles are decidedly loose. The temple grounds are a wellspring of the Force.

So why do you have to keep correcting yourself, bringing your mind back to center over and over again like a padawan?

You must tell me.

The sound of his voice beats like a drum, thrumming and thrumming and thrumming deep within you.

There will come a time when it is too late. What will you do then? Take comfort in the knowledge that you'd kept your promise not to speak to him?

You could break your oath to the Jedi order for selfish reasons, but you won't break your silence to save him now?

A shudder runs down your back. These are dark thoughts. A Jedi does not make decisions out of fear. Or shame.

You release the feelings, concentrating on the leaves of the vines hanging from the trellis that surrounds you. Looking for the light in any form.

A crown finch peeks through the greenery on the other side of the trellis, then flits to a branch on the tree above you. In the distance, you hear the hollow, wooden sound of a wind chime clinking. You close your eyes and imagine the wind gently pushing the chimes, playing the song within the soul of the planet beneath you. The finch chirrups over your head, and you listen to the sound of its little wings beating as it moves further away. You follow the fluttering noises until they start to sound strangely louder.

In the distance, the noise becomes more like a brushing, crunching intrusion. Like a creature larger than a finch. Your suspicions are confirmed with the sound of footsteps growing closer, and you open your eyes, sensing a familiar presence in the Force.

"Anakin?"

He's draped in long, dark robes that seem to be giving him some difficulty in maneuvering the narrow gap between two hedges that isn't technically part of the walking path. When he hears your voice he looks up, and his frustrated expression instantly softens. He gives you one of his charming, shy smiles and quickly shrugs through the bushes to greet you with an embrace.

"Hey, Pickup," he murmurs quietly behind your head. Your own smile deepens at the nickname. It's been years since you've heard it.

He'd given it to you back when your relationship with him had been mainly limited to flying the getaway ship for him and Obi Wan. You'd swept in at the last minute many times to provide an escape from whatever situation they'd found themselves in. Usually fire was involved.

Now, he hardly resembles the scrawny teenager from back then. His sandy blond hair has darkened over time into shaggy brown curls, and the scar given to him by Ventress has taken the innocence from his eyes.

As you pull away from the hug to look him over, you search his expression for a glimpse of the boy you remember. Looking deeper, you think, no - perhaps it wasn't Ventress's work that did that. His eyes hold many of the same things you've seen in your own. Anxiety. Fatigue. Too many terrible memories from the war. He's changed, the same as you have.

But despite it, he looks glad to see you.

"I had heard you might come back. It's been too long." He pauses, seeming to hesitate before quietly adding, "I've missed you."

The genuine sentiment tugs at your heart. Anakin had always gone barreling through any sense of formality or propriety, and it seems that will never change.

You give his forearm - the one that can feel it - a squeeze. "I've missed you too," you tell him. Then you look around, suddenly remembering. "What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be at the ceremony."

He looks sheepish, pulling away. "I was. I left after the awards were given. I don't think they'll mind."

You give him a mockingly chastising smile from under your brows. He absolutely knows they will more than 'mind'. They're probably looking for him right now. Which makes you wonder...

"And Obi Wan?" you ask, trying to keep your tone nonchalant as you look behind him, half expecting him to emerge from the shrubs.

He shakes his head, dark tresses bouncing over his shoulders. "No, Obi Wan wouldn't dream of leaving to find me. Not when we need to keep our relationship with the senate so close."

There seems to be a little venom in his words, and he drops his gaze to the side. You raise an eyebrow, letting the pause drag out. When he doesn't elaborate, you ask gently, "What does that mean?"

"Nothing," he brushes you off. "Forget it."

You want to push, knowing you could probably get more out of him, but you don't have that kind of rapport anymore. You don't know him well enough to navigate his volatile emotions. So you change the subject.

"Well, if you're not attending the ceremony, what were you planning to do until it's over?"

The shadow of his shy smile is back. He glances toward the temple behind you. "I have some work I wanted to take care of." He looks back at you, gaze brightening a bit. "Actually, maybe you could help me."

You study him, pretending to hesitate when you've already made up your mind to help him. Then you give a little bow, stepping behind him with your hand outstretched. "Lead the way, Skywalker."

Who knows. Spending a little time outside your head could be exactly what you need.

"Whatever happened to Jedi keeping limited possessions?" You ask him, staring at the speeder as he hands a few credits to the droid hovering at the keypad.

"Well, this is one of my few possessions," he drawls, tugging the cover off of it as the droid bustles off. "It's only a few credits a month to keep it here, and the parts weren't expensive. Most of them were damaged when I got them."

'Here' is a dingy little storage unit on one of Coruscant's lower levels. You're both still wearing the hoods of your robes to cover your faces as Anakin had pointed out that he didn't exactly want anyone to know about the space. You only take down your hoods after he closes the bay door behind you, keying in the code.

Once you're alone inside the unit, you cross your arms, walking around the speeder to take it all in. The body isn't in anything resembling good condition, but everything is where it should be. You pop the hood to take a look at the engine, which consists of some very creative choices.

Leaning over it, you start to see why he had asked you here. Some of the work would require specialized tools - or two pairs of hands. And since he isn't a Besalisk, here you are. It did beg a further question, though.

"You didn't want Master Windu's help with this?" you ask, teasing.

He doesn't answer, just gives you a sardonic look.

"Alright, then. What about Obi Wan?"

This is a more genuine question. As much as it had become a joke, there's more than a little truth behind it when people call Anakin his second padawan.

While Mace Windu supports Anakin in all the necessary ways, diligent, patient, and steady, Obi Wan has always tended to be the supportive shoulder on which he leans. During the early years of his training. Mace seemed to work under the perception that if he was indeed the Chosen One, he would not fail. Obi Wan took Anakin's training more personally, intent that he would become a Jedi knight - that he must not fail. It was for this very reason that the council had decided Obi Wan would not be responsible for his training.

But it was also for this reason that Anakin often confided in Obi Wan things that he couldn't share with his own master. They became like brothers, in a way, and despite their separation, by the time Anakin completed his training as a padawan, even the council couldn't deny how well they worked together. While you had been working solo, Obi Wan and Anakin had been paired on missions more often than any other Jedi.

So as you lean over Anakin's latest secret, you genuinely wonder why Obi Wan hasn't been made a part of it.

"Obi Wan has enough problems on his mind at the moment," he answers unconvincingly. He steps up next to you, taking the speeder's hood from your hand and propping it up. "And anyway, he wouldn't understand."

You decide to let it rest, though there seems to be more he's not saying. Obi Wan would understand having a secret project to work on - needing a little slice of freedom within his means. Though he might not approve, he would have helped if Anakin had asked. You both know it. Instead of pursuing the thought, though, you pick up a spanner.

"Okay. Then just show me where you need me."

A couple of hours later, you're slamming down the hood and wiping your hands with a rag. Anakin is raising his arm above his head, rubbing his face into the underside of his sleeve.

"I think that'll do it," he says, smearing the mix of black grease with his sweat and painting it from his nose to his cheek. "Come on. Let's go for a test drive."

You smile, tossing him the rag and watching him make a poor effort to clean himself up. "I'd be honored to be your first passenger." Climbing into the seat, you frown. "But, wait. Aren't you worried someone will see us?"

He presses a button as he gets behind the controls, and a durasteel panel starts to slide over your head. "We'll keep the top on."

Once the speeder's top half is in place and he's edged it out of the storage unit, he hops out to close the unit's entrance. As he slides back into his seat, he adjusts the steering and turns to look at you again with a barely subdued grin. "Besides, we'll be going too fast for anyone to get a good look at us."

"...We will?" is all you have time to get out before he punches it, sending you careening into multi-level traffic and gripping the side of your seat to steady yourself.

Coruscant glimmers all around you. Any surface that's not emitting its own twinkling lights, advertisement or otherwise, reflects the brilliant glare of the sun. The cacophony of light and sound echoes into the abyss beneath you, as far down as you can see. As Anakin whips through streams of other speeders without the slightest hesitation, the noises grow louder, into shrieks and beeps and the occasional curse.

You bite your tongue, glancing over at him as he threads the needle between two other speeders. His eyes are lit up with the spark of adrenaline, and there's no sense in trying to reason with him. You'd known what you were getting into as soon as you'd agreed to go along for the ride. He's quickly overcome with the gleeful look he gets when he's in complete control of utter chaos, and you find yourself cracking a smile, angling your hand out the window to catch the current of the wind whipping past.

When you've sped well past the outskirts of the Senate District, he punches a button and the durasteel above your head melts back into the frame of the speeder. The hood you'd pulled over your head is whisked away, uncovering your face.

"Anakin!" you shout over the wind, startled, "I thought we weren't going to put the top down?"

He just gives another wild smile, eyes facing forward. "It's beautiful, isn't it? We can go wherever we want."

It's like he's not even in the same dimension anymore. You watch him, hair ruffling in the breeze, eyes sparkling with some sort of blind fervor you can't quite understand.

This man - this kid, you remind yourself - is a general, with unending responsibilities. It must be a dream to let loose, even for a moment. That must be why he seems so distant; so lost in thought.

After some time sitting in silence, just letting him fly, you finally ask, "Anakin, can you take me back, please?"

That snaps him out of it. The speeder instantly slows as he seems to come back to his senses. "I'm sorry, I- I shouldn't have done that."

You smile gently. "No, it's alright. It's not that." Sighing, you rest your arm over the side. "I have... somewhere I have to be."

He grips the shifter and starts to turn back. "Sure. Of course." Then, more quietly when the wind isn't muffling the words anymore, he murmurs, "Something's wrong. Isn't it?"

You stare down over the edge, sighing softly again. He's always been so sensitive to the suffering of those around him. And as usual, he doesn't hesitate to pry. But if anyone were to understand struggling to follow traditions and ideals, it would be Anakin.

"I just... have a lot on my mind," you tell him slowly, haltingly.

There's a long, unbroken silence while his dark lashes flick down briefly, and then he stares out over the blinking lights and perpetual movement of the city. It goes without saying that everyone playing a part in this war has a lot on their mind. But there's a strange kind of intimacy in being able to say it out loud to someone.

You turn to look at him, finally deciding to push a little further past caution. "Anakin, have you ever felt like... like you don't know who to trust? Even the Force? Even... yourself?"

He seems to tense. When he answers, his voice goes soft and his tone is hard to read. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know," you reply truthfully. "All my life, there's been a clear line between right and wrong. Even when things are at their most complicated, I knew which choice to make. Now... I just. Don't."

You can feel your pulse quickening, admitting these things. You expect him to dismiss you; to tell you what you would tell any fellow Jedi in such a state: Trust in the Force.

But he doesn't answer right away.

Keeping the speeder at a steady pace, he shifts his eyes uneasily over to yours. "Sometimes the line isn't as clear as it should be." He pauses. "So, I suppose you have to ask yourself, what choice can you make that will help people the most?"

You shake your head. "I wish it were that simple. But if I decide to try and help someone... to save someone for the wrong reasons..."

His eyes narrow. "I don't believe that's possible."

"What?"

"If you can help someone, the Jedi code makes it our responsibility to do so. There are no wrong reasons to protect life. No matter what anyone might say." He's talking slowly, now; deeper in his chest. It's a thing he's always done to make himself seem older and wiser than his years.

You lift your brows, staring at him. Then you collect yourself, trying not to offend him with your shock. He's always been forthright, but this is truly something different. "I wish I could be so certain. I've meditated on it endlessly, but things feel so... clouded."

He lapses back into an uneasy silence, then finally asks you, with a tentative edge in his voice, "This... person you want to save-"

"It isn't anyone you know," you answer, trying to keep your voice steady while adding the lie to the growing list of reasons you feel yourself spinning out.

He nods slowly, letting it drop. Then he finishes his thought with half-hearted encouragement. "You should have more faith in yourself. Obi Wan has taught you well. You'll do what's right, in the end."

Your chest tightens and you blink, quickly looking away.

"I'll try," you mumble, blurting out the first response you can come up with. There's a long silence, his name hanging between you.

You don't like how far the conversation has steered toward Obi Wan. You recalibrate, talking over him just as he opens his mouth to speak again.

"Have you spoken to Senator Amidala lately?"

His entire mood seems to shift, though his expression hardly changes. He's gotten better over time at hiding his crush, but to someone who knows him well, the difference in his demeanor is obvious.

"Not lately," he answers quickly. He pauses before adding, more quietly, "She's been... hard at work. Busy with senate matters. We haven't had much time to catch up."

You nod. "Of course."

He mumbles something about a sector governance decree, and you nod again, feigning interest. Then he goes totally silent, and it's awkward this time; not easily broken. You don't like pushing his buttons like this, and you feel a little guilty at manipulating him. But if he had kept prodding you for more details, you don't know if you could have kept from getting defensive.

Anakin cranks at the controls with a gloved hand, speeding up. The top comes back up a few moments later, and you make polite conversation on the way back to the storage complex; no longer two old friends, but now just two people having entirely different thoughts than the ones shared out loud.

"See you later, Pickup," Anakin says, splitting his path from your own when you make it back to the temple. Then he calls after you, "If you see Obi Wan before me, tell him I'm sorry he had to fend for himself with the politicians."

You instinctively force a smile, but looking back at Anakin, a genuine one gets away from you.

"I'll tell him if I see him."

If you see him. You check your chrono; it's becoming that time now, in fact. You have little time to rush back to your quarters and get cleaned up before your commlink is blinking with a new message.

The council has convened, and they await your arrival.

The thick mantle of your outer robe flutters behind you as you swiftly make your way up the stairs to the council chambers. You've opted for one of your older robes - a cream-colored one with traditional floor-length inner robes which are even lighter in color. You try not to think of the reason you've selected this garb. You try to tell yourself it was a subconscious decision to wear an outfit that would put forth an image of softness, of innocence, of purity.

Just in case.

When you reach the closed doors, you straighten your shoulders and do everything in your power to calm your spirit. The waiting is finally over. Whether for good or bad, you will finally know why the council has called you here.

When you push in, entering the council chambers, you find the majority of the seats empty. The rest of the council is nowhere to be seen, and sitting in front of you are only three members.

"Please, come in, Commander," Mace greets you.

You step into the center of the room and bow respectfully to each of them in turn.

"Master Windu." You dip your head in reply to his greeting, and he nods.

"Master Yoda," you address the grandmaster beside him, tipping your head down.

The wrinkled little sage makes a "hm" sound under his breath, deeply inclining his head to match you.

The third Jedi Master's cape is strewn over the side of his chair, and he bows his head before you do. His eyes are a brilliant, incandescent blue. "Commander."

Your pulse skips a few beats, and after mirroring his nod, you snap your eyes back to Master Windu before you can show any sign of hesitation.

Mace fixes you under a stare of his own. "We have much to discuss, and time is not our ally, so we will begin with a simple question: Do you believe your mission on Asar-2 was a success?"

You keep your eyes centered on Mace, though your immediate instinct is to slip a glance back to your master. "I... believe it was. Yes."

"And do you still feel you are capable of performing your duties in their full extent?"

You feel your palms immediately going clammy beneath the long sleeves of your robe. Crossing your arms slowly in front of yourself, you clasp your hands gently at your waist and nod solemnly. "Yes, Masters, I do."

"Regardless of any personal feelings you may have?"

Your throat goes dry.

Your mask slips, just long enough for you to cast a glance at Obi Wan. He locks eyes with you, holds it for a moment, then looks away.

Your heart drops into your stomach, but you try not to let panic take over. This shouldn't be so hard. You specialize in lying, after all. But there's a difference between telling lies for a cause that you believe is right, and telling lies to cover your own selfish actions. And that difference is sitting in the pit of your stomach right now.

You focus back on the question. Too much time has passed. And you know the only answer you can give.

"Yes, Master."

Despite his sense of urgency, Master Windu stays quiet, letting the moment linger. All three of them, including Obi Wan, seem to be inspecting you deeply. You feel exposed in more ways than one, under the scrutiny of the council members, surrounded by walls of transparisteel with ships and speeders passing idly by. Meanwhile, your breath is shortening with every intake.

At long last, Mace leans slightly forward. "We have asked you here for an assignment so critical to the survival of the Republic that it must remain secret to anyone outside this room." He pauses, letting his words sink in. "It will test not only your skills, but your ability to place personal relationships aside for the greater good."

Your relief at the sudden clarity that this meeting isn't a court martial is swiftly replaced with a whole new sinking feeling. The survival of the Republic. Not victory, not defense, but mere survival?

The whiplash must be all over your face, because Mace's expression hardens even further. "Commander?"

"Sorry - yes," you reply quickly. "I will do whatever is necessary. Whatever the council's orders, I'm ready."

Mace nods. "Very well." He takes on a new posture, even more solemn than before. "We have reason to believe that there is serious corruption in the Senate. More than we had ever thought possible. And..." He exhales. "We have reason to believe that the chancellor may be deeply involved."

You let the shock color your face, looking at each of them, waiting pointlessly for the comment to be corrected. There must be some mistake. If that were true...

"We have been informed the chancellor will soon be requesting that Anakin Skywalker be appointed to the Jedi council and made a master. As you know, Anakin and the chancellor have always been quite close."

You stare speechlessly. What he's implying simply can't be true.

"Therefore, we will ask that Anakin use their connection to report back on any suspicious activity he may find surrounding the chancellor or any of his associates."

He stops, seeming to gather himself before he goes on. "This council, however, does not have full faith in his ability to carry out his orders. And that is where you come in. We are assigning you to report on Skywalker's dealings with the chancellor. Some believe that it already may be too late to root out this corruption, and that Anakin himself may be too close to the chancellor to see things clearly."

Your voice comes out cracked, despite your effort to sound detached and impartial. "And what would my orders be?"

"To observe Anakin over the coming days and weeks, until we have a better idea of the nature of his relationship with Chancellor Palpatine. You will need to deliver all reports directly to one of us, in person. We cannot be certain that any of our channels of communication are uncompromised."

A cold sweat chills the back of your neck. This is wrong. This is all wrong.

"I understand. However..." You shift your stance uncomfortably. "It... may be difficult to keep an unnoticeable trail on someone as strong in the Force as Anakin."

Mace and Yoda exchange an almost imperceptible glance. It was a misstep on your part. You knew it, even as you were saying it.

You've spied on countless intelligent targets, force-wielding or not, and they're well aware from your reports that it can be done. You could find a million ways around Anakin's strength in the Force. It's a feeble excuse, and it's clear you're balking at orders to which you had earnestly agreed only moments before.

"If you don't believe you can do it-"

"No, sir," you interject quickly. "I can do it. I... simply wanted to share my concerns about the difficulties."

"Mm," Yoda grunts beside Mace. "Difficult this will be. Dangerous, in many ways. Certain, you are, in accepting this assignment?"

His bulbous eyes narrowing slightly, Yoda waits for your answer. You swallow, then nod. "Yes, Master. I am certain."

"Very well," Mace acknowledges. "You will receive our schedules of availability shortly. If you need to meet at an unscheduled time, use an encrypted channel, and codes no older than one week. May the Force aid you in your mission."

You bow your head and turn to take your leave. Two of the masters remain seated as you go, but Obi Wan stands to leave immediately. He heads for the door, outpacing you, but Yoda speaks up again, and you hold back while he hesitates in the doorframe.

"Commander," Yoda croaks solemnly, "Acknowledge your feelings for Skywalker, you must. But allow them to cloud your judgement, you must not. An easy task, this will not be."

You trade a look between Yoda and Mace - Anakin's former master giving you a meaningful look in return. You lower your gaze to the floor for a moment, accepting the truth, and then meet Yoda's stare again.

"But a necessary one," you reply.

Sadness envelops Yoda's features. "Proven right, I hope you are not. Proven wrong, I hope we all are."

Obi Wan stands in the doorway for a long handful of heartbeats, until you turn toward him, and he turns to leave.

You walk slowly in his wake for a respectful amount of time, and when you're far enough from the council chambers, you begin striding down the hall after him.

Now is the time. You won't get another chance.

He's already halfway down the stairs when you find him, cape billowing with his quick steps. From a distance, he looks more myth than man - his armored shoulders are so broad, the dark fabric draped over them reminiscent of the warriors you've seen in ancient tapestries. The fading light coming through the wide windows of the temple bathes him in glorious hues trailing one after the other, and when you finally manage to close the distance, he's at the base of the stairs.

You force yourself to call after him, not allowing yourself to hesitate any longer.

"Master."

His head turns, ripples of illumination gliding through his golden hair. Slowing his pace, he watches as you catch up with him. You nearly miss the bottom step, arrested by the way his eyes sparkle in the sunlight, despite the heaviness in his expression.

"A word?" you ask him, keeping your tone light for those around you.

He hesitates, and you can tell by his face that a word with you is the very last thing he would like.

"Of course."

He glances down an adjoining hall to a private meeting room, and you follow him there. As he opens the door, he uses one hand to lift the heavy cape from his shoulder, brushing it behind him to allow you more space as you enter.

Turning on the light, you see the room has been dimmed to better view the small holotable in the center, which is currently turned off. It's a tiny room, most of the space between the table and the walls taken up by chairs. There's a small gap where you can stand and face one another, practically up against the wall. You could move the chairs or find the light switch, but there's no point in wasting the time. You turn to Obi Wan as he comes up behind you instead, trying not to let the bare separation between you set your nerves further aflame.

"I'm sorry, I know we agreed, but this is..." you start off, immediately hearing the tremble in your voice. "I needed to talk to you."

"About Anakin?"

It hadn't been about Anakin, but now it's about so many things.

"No. I mean, yes, now I..." You take a breath. "This is so hard to believe. That the council would ask one Jedi to spy on another. One of their own members, I should say." You shake your head. "That the chancellor would even ask such a thing in the first place."

Obi Wan sighs. "It is disturbing."

"It also seems strange that the full council wouldn't have met with me for such an important task," you go on, looking for a reaction from him. "Is that not strange?"

He crosses his arms, looking down at the table, then back up at you, seeming to deliberate before giving his answer. "The council... did not all agree on this decision."

Your face drops, your mouth nearly falling open in shock. He might as well have told you that the floor beneath you had opened up into cold, empty space. The council often had differing opinions, but to outright refuse to come to an agreement? To have members sit out while mandates were issued? It's unheard of.

"We took a vote. When it was decided that this task could not be entrusted to Anakin alone, it was also decided that the identities of those who voted in favor should be protected in case there were... unforseen repercussions. Three members were selected to be directly involved, in order to protect the others."

This is making a little more sense, now. You don't have to ask how Obi Wan voted.

"I see," you answer. "You don't think Anakin..."

"Anakin would not betray the Republic. He would not betray his fellow Jedi." Both his gaze and his voice hold steady conviction. In the undercurrent of his words, a third thing goes unsaid: "He would not betray me."

You nod. "I know he wouldn't. That's why I had to take the assignment. If I hadn't done it, someone else might have."

"Yes," he says quietly. "I know."

You search his face in confusion. If he'd wanted you to do this all along, then why does he seem so reluctant?

"When you came to me that night back on Ilum, were you trying to... warn me? Did you not want me to take it?"

Obi Wan's brow creases. "On Ilum?"

You toss a glance behind his shoulder to make sure the door is locked. "When... you said I called to you in the Force."

His expression drifts from confusion into concern. "I... don't understand."

You're about to take the hint and change the subject, inferring that he doesn't want to discuss anything personal inside the temple, until he continues.

"When did this happen?"

The question strikes you as genuine, and all at once your grasp on reality feels tenuous.

"Just two nights ago," you say, lowering your voice. You still aren't entirely sure he's not feigning ignorance for the sake of possible prying ears.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he says, shaking his head. "Two nights ago I would have been nowhere near Ilum."

"Not-" You try to shake off the air of unease that's settling over you. "Not in person. In a vision."

"A vision?" He still looks lost. "I've had no such vision."

You've been manipulated. That much is certain, now. By whom or what, you still aren't sure.

Obi Wan is staring at you, waiting for your explanation. When you don't answer right away, he reiterates, "Whatever you saw on Ilum, I was not aware of."

You steel yourself, trying not to lose your nerve. Ultimately, it doesn't matter. What matters is that deep down, you know the future you saw was real.

"Whether you were involved in the visions or not, the message involves you."

You take a breath.

"Obi Wan, I need to ask something of you."

He tilts his head questioningly, but doesn't respond.

You stare into his eyes, heart racing. "Don't go to Utapau. Please."

He blinks, leaning back. "What?"

"These visions... I don't know what they mean, exactly, but I do know this: You can't go to Utapau."

He seems to consider before asking, "Why? What will happen there?"

"I... don't know," you lie, breaking his gaze. It makes your stomach turn to keep the truth from him, but the reality is that foreknowledge of his death wouldn't be enough to stop him.

"If you don't know, then why must I stay away?"

"I don't know exactly why," you tell him slowly, "but I do know that the Force is telling me something, and I need to listen."

He brushes a hand across his beard. "How long have you been having these visions?"

"Only recently," you lie again. You wish you could confess everything, but admitting how long you'd deceived him would only cast doubt on your message. "A few months ago."

Technically, that is when they became more specific. You tell yourself it's not a total lie.

Obi Wan still looks uncertain, but after a long time, he hesitantly says, "I... have no need to go to Utapau."

Your heart swells with hope, until he finishes his answer.

"But I cannot agree to stay away. I don't know what the future will bring. Neither of us do."

You squeeze your eyes shut, the urgency of your last chance to make him listen a red-hot stake in your chest. When you open them again, you try not to let your voice break. "Please, Obi Wan. If you... if you have any trust in me at all-"

"It is not a matter of trust," he corrects you. His tone is still gentle, but there's a note of reproach in it. "I will follow the will of the Force. Whatever that may be."

You know it's unfair to place this burden on him. In his mind, you're asking him to choose between his duty and his trust in you. But to you, they are one and the same.

"But that's exactly what it is," you insist. "Don't you see? The Force is showing me the way. And I'm listening."

"If the Force has a message for me," he replies carefully, "why can I not see it myself?"

He looks at you, and suddenly in that moment you're transported right back to the Separatist base, where you've gone through all this before. He didn't believe in you then, and he doesn't, now.

"You don't trust me."

"I never said that."

"How?" you ask, ignoring him. "How, after all we've been through, can you still not trust me?"

"Perhaps we should talk about this later." He looks unsettled.

"Please. I need to know. If I've done something-"

"You're upset," he interrupts, turning slightly away from you in the limited space he has, putting his shoulder pauldron between you like a barrier. "We should discuss this when you have calmed down."

"There might not be time later to discuss it," you press. "Obi Wan, I don't understand. Why won't you talk to me? You touch a hand against the cold armor covering his upper arm. "Why won't you trust me?"

He jerks at your touch, and you don't know who is more surprised by your sudden gesture. He turns back to face you, not quite shrugging your hand off, but making it clear you shouldn't have done it.

"It is not you that I don't trust," he insists.

"Then why won't you listen to what I have to say? Why won't you let me help you?"

"Because I cannot trust myself," he admits, voice harsh, but eyes as soft as they've ever been. He casts his gaze to the side. "My own judgment. Not... not where it concerns you."

You stand frozen, not certain of his meaning. "Why not?"

"I would think it quite obvious," he says tightly, eyes drawing up to yours.

You're certain this time the floor really has opened beneath you. You feel like you're floating.

"And," you ask, voice half gone, "why should that affect your judgment?"

He says your name quietly, almost accusingly. He wants you to know the answer, because he clearly doesn't want to say it.

You're struck dumb, unable to reply. And you're suddenly very aware of how close you're standing. How dim the lights are. How electric the air has become.

"How can I trust myself to act with logic and reason when they've so easily escaped me before?" He goes on, soft and low. "Am I truly meant to know about this vision? Or am I defying the will of the Force right now, by speaking to you?"

You swallow, looking up at him. You don't reply. You can't.

"I must doubt everything. Especially my own thoughts. Especially where it concerns you."

Your heart is pounding so hard you're afraid it's going to climb up your throat. "You... you told me when I was in doubt, I should rely on the strength of the Force. That I shouldn't turn away. So, what does it tell you now?"

His mouth is a hard, set line beneath his beard, his eyes a torrent of emotions. Then he finally answers.

"That I cannot allow myself, at this crucial moment, to think of anything but my responsibilities. That I must bind myself to my duty. And that despite all of this, you make me weak."

You're certain he meant it as a confession of his own failing. He didn't say it for the sake of driving you to the brink of sanity, but he's done it all the same. And your mouth is on his before you can even fathom resisting.

You sink into him, tears nearly springing to your eyes as months of longing come surging back all at once. His lips catch yours, uncertain and warm and soft. His body is rigid, one hand flat on the holotable and the other hovering over - but not quite touching - the small of your back.

When you pull away, you're gasping. "I'm- I'm sorry."

He hasn't closed his mouth, and you haven't parted your bodies. Being close enough to breathe in his scent is making your head swim.

"I'm sorry," you repeat. "That... I shouldn't have done that."

He shakes his head softly, just staring at you, but he doesn't pull away. "No," he agrees.

"I've missed you," you whisper, and he closes his eyes, bringing his chin up and taking a slow breath through his nose.

When he looks at you again, there's a long, heavy, heated silence. You wonder if you've pushed past the point of breaking. If he'll send you away. You can't let this be the last time you speak. Not like this.

Then he lets out a sigh. "I... tried to forget you." It's an admission that clearly pains him to say out loud. "When I left Ilum, I thought that I could keep my fond memories. That I could accept I would never see you again, and think of you only in passing. But with time, it became more difficult. I realized if I were to move forward, I couldn't trust myself with these memories. I would need to put you out of my mind entirely."

You swallow. His words are hard to comprehend. "Obi Wan..."

"And still," he says softly, locking eyes with you again, "I found myself thinking of you, in quiet moments, when I should not."

It makes you sick, how much you want him. This time, you lean in slowly, giving him ample time to back away. He meets your lips, and you taste his sadness, his unwillingness to make things so much harder for the both of you. But there's a heat and a desperation roiling beneath his movements that neither of you can deny, either.

The room is quiet, the air practically throbbing with all the things you aren't saying to one another, lips brushing tenderly as if they'd never once parted. And after a moment's hesitation, he begins to kiss you back.

As soon as he begins to respond, your tongue is desperate for more of him, and you dip into his mouth, making him moan softly. The sound makes you pull back to bite your lip, and you murmur against him breathlessly, "We shouldn't do this."

"No," he agrees between kisses, turning his body around yours to press your back against the holotable. "Not here."

"Then tell me what you said was a lie," you whisper. "Take it back."

"It was a lie." He sucks your lip. "I take it back."

You groan softly against his mouth. "Obi Wan, you're the voice of reason," you tell him, nearly teasing and yet utterly serious. You need him to have the strength to stop, because you have none.

His hands come up to either side of your face, cupping you gently as he pushes you hard against the table.

"Darling, I am a wretched man."

He covers your mouth with his own, sliding his tongue deep and grinding his hips into yours, kissing you with a delirious, fervent hunger. You ruffle your fingers through his smooth golden hair and groan into his mouth as he parts your robes.

When he takes you in his arms, it is against every tenet of the Jedi Code. He lifts you effortlessly up onto the table behind you, pushing your heavy outer robe from your shoulders, letting it sink into a pile at your back.

"You were so beautiful before the council," he rumbles at your throat, sliding wet kisses from your jawline down, "I could hardly bring myself to look at you."

Your stomach flips wildly. You whine his name, gripping the armor covering his shoulders.

His gloved hand slides up your leg, dragging your inner robe over your knee. He grips your thigh, kneading softly, and then pulls back from kissing your neck to tear off his glove with his teeth. It falls to the floor and he looks back up at you, a lock of hair falling into his eyes.

When he kisses you again, it's long and languid. He's taking his time, feeling every inch of your mouth, drawing out every sound you try to suppress. His palm is flat against your bare skin, stroking slowly up and down while his tongue slides against yours, until he finds the hem of your robe again and pushes it all the way up.

When he dips his thumb to brush over the thin fabric between your legs, you're already dripping through it. He makes a hoarse, broken sound into your mouth, stroking his thumb over and over to feel more of it. You whimper, muscles tightening to the point of ache.

Your fingers are trembling as you drag them down the armor of his stomach until you reach between his legs. You can feel the clips that keep his codpiece in place, but after a short struggle, your desperation wins out.

"Help me," you plead into his shoulder.

He reaches down without any further urging and frees himself with reckless, hurried movements. Removing the armor and pulling down the tight blacks he wears underneath, he forces himself back between your thighs. With a steady hand, he tugs your underclothes to the side, burying himself inside you in one slow, firm stroke.

Every thought of this is so terribly wrong is instantly drowned out by the feeling of him, right where he's meant to be.

His mouth falls open and you feel yourself throbbing around him, the wetness between your legs dripping down onto the inside of your robe.

"Fuck," you bite out, overwhelmed, and he leans forward to kiss you, coating himself in your slick before he starts to move, stretching you with a deep, delicious ache.

Your own robes are falling back down around your thighs as he rocks slowly up into you, filling you so deep it makes you gasp while the heavy mantle draped from his shoulders brushes your knees. You drag your mouth away from his for a moment to drink in the sight of him as he thrusts into you, still wearing a glove on one hand and the emblazoned symbol of the Republic on his shoulder. Dashing. Regal. Covered between his legs in your dripping mess.

His body curls into you, both his hands now finding your waist and pulling you tight. The more he fucks himself into you, the more he pulls you off the table, and soon you're hanging off the edge, clinging onto him and whimpering your adulation into the hard, smooth surface of his chestplate.

"Missed you so much," you cry out as he drives his cock into you over and over, the rawness of your confession made filthy with the sound of him rutting uncontrollably into your tight, aching cunt. "Thought about you all the time."

He moans, then stifles it halfway out, seeming to suddenly remember where you both are. "Stop. Don't- don't say such things."

"I did," you tell him, closing your eyes. One of your hands is clutching at his chest and the other is fisted up into a ball, tugging his cape as he crushes his hips into yours, pounding you into the table. "I couldn't stop thinking of you."

"Ah-" he tightens his grip, hips briefly losing their rhythm. "Young one, please-"

It suddenly occurs to you that he's not scolding you for your attachment. He's trying hold off at the brink of orgasm, and your words are getting him there. The words you'd never imagined confessing to him. The ones you'd buried so deeply for so long.

"Obi Wan." You throw your arms around his neck and let him fuck you into oblivion. You kiss his neck and whisper into his ear, "Forgive me. I thought of you at night, when I couldn't help myself."

He comes, gasping, inside you. Your pussy spasms hard at the sound of his broken moans, the wet heat of his orgasm gushing into you. It sends you over the edge, your vision blurring white with pleasure. You dig your nails into his neck, sobbing senseless words as you come so hard it's almost painful.

When you start to come down, your chest is shaking with every breath, and he keeps easing his cock in and out of you until you feel the warm spurts of cum pulsing inside you finally slow. You wish you could have felt him in the Force as he came, but of course neither of you could have risked lowering your guard and potentially allowing the hundreds of Force-sensitives on Coruscant feel it, too. For now, reaching out to hold your palm to his face and pulling him close to kiss him deeply as he leaks out of you, desecrating your robes, will have to do.

When he pulls out, you're both still panting. He brushes the hair from his face and despite the guilt painted all over him, he's glowing.

"Are you alright?"

It's the last thing you'd expected him to ask, but so in his nature that you can't help but give a light laugh and kiss him again.

"I'm alright."

For the first time in so long, you really do feel it. In spite of your uncertain future and the fate of the galaxy, in this moment, you truly feel closer to peace than you've ever been. Because you finally understand - your feelings for him can't be denied, or ignored, or fought. They just are.

He holds you for a long time, kissing you softly, and when he extricates himself from your arms, it's slowly and with great care. You cover yourself, wrapping back up in your outer robes. He's dressed again soon after, armor back in place, and he bends down to retrieve his glove, then looks back at you. "Are you certain you're alright?"

You ease yourself back to the floor. "I am. Are you?"

His gaze is torn as he takes you slowly back in his arms. "Yes."

You kiss him again, softly. "Then we're both alright."

He gives a sigh. "This... this latest of our mistakes..."

"We both knew what we were doing," you assure him. "And if it changes nothing, I'm not sorry happened."

His eyes widen just slightly, and he searches your gaze. "Darling, of course it- of course it changes nothing."

His demeanor has shifted completely, and he's looking at you with such deep concern that it nearly makes you smile. You knew that things couldn't change outside of the two of you. What you had meant was that maybe this didn't have to be the end. That maybe this could happen again. Maybe it didn't have to destroy you. But before you can say as much, he's still speaking.

"My heart," Obi Wan says quietly, "Would be yours, if it were mine to give."

Your knees nearly give out where you stand, and the planet seems to spin off its axis.

"Wh- what?" you whisper.

He doesn't repeat himself. Just looks at you with such honesty that it tears you apart.

You gather all your strength to keep from begging him to explain further. There's something more important you need to ask again. Maybe, just maybe, he will have changed his mind.

"And... Utapau?"

The warmth in his gaze evaporates. There's a tense silence before he slowly answers, "I... will not make a promise I cannot keep."

"But," you start, "My- my visions... Obi Wan, you can't just ignore this."

"You are mistaking me for someone with a choice."

His words fall heavy on you. All of the hope you'd had a moment ago has vanished. He leans in to kiss you once more, but you hardly feel him touch your lips.

"We've stayed here too long," he tells you, sounding a million parsecs away. "Will you come to my quarters later? Perhaps we can meditate and find the answers we both seek."

You almost answer yes. The rest of the world seems so unimportant right now. A distant afterthought.

But you have orders. Even if it feels like swallowing glass, you have to try to let this go for now, and focus on the greater good.

"I... should find Anakin. There are a lot of things I need to get in place first."

"Right," he says, stepping back. "Yes, of course."

"Tomorrow?"

He shakes his head. "I will be with the council all day."

A quiet beat passes between you.

"We will talk again, when time allows," he says, with a finality that frightens you a little. But you remind yourself, he would not have said it if there was no hope.

You kiss him again, long and deep, before you leave.

"Be safe, Obi Wan."

He knows what you mean, and he doesn't reply. But he bows his head slightly to let you know he's heard you, as you walk out the door.

The sun has set, and by the time you've reached your quarters to shower and change clothes, the temple is beginning to quiet down for the evening. So when you hear someone moving around in your quarters, it seems unlikely to be a friendly visit.

Obi Wan would have knocked. Or he would have the courtesy to let you sense him. What you sense now is... cold. Dark. Empty.

Your lightsaber, not yet activated, is in your hand by the time you step out of the fresher. You're wrapped in a clean robe, holding it tight.

"Hello?" you call out, stepping into the main room. A shudder runs down your back when you get a clear sense of who or what it is. It's familiar, yet somehow different. His face isn't one that you recognize.

"Now, now," he says, smiling. "There's no need for that." He nods to the saber hilt. "No use for it, either."

"Who are you?" you ask, not wasting time with fear or confusion. You need answers.

"A friend, my dear," he answers casually. "Here to congratulate you on a job well done."

Your eyes are fixed on him, waiting for him to make any type of aggressive move. "What job would that be?"

He quirks an eyebrow. "The job you begged of me, of course. To save your master's life."

You hesitate. "I... couldn't do it. I tried. But..."

"Trust me, child. It is done." He looks to the side, clearly pretending a thought has just occurred to him. "Well, nearly."

You try to resist playing this game with him, of question after question going unanswered. But you need to know.

"What do you mean, nearly?"

Still holding a smirk, he strides closer. He knows he has you, now. He knows you won't strike him down until he talks. "Just what I say. That we have not yet reached the end. There is more to be done."

As he nears you, the chill that grips your spine nearly makes you take a step back. Your thumb twitches on your saber. But you keep quiet, and let him talk.

"And to do it, you will need my help."

You bite the inside of your lip, choosing your words carefully. "And if I don't?"

"Then he will suffer."

Your blade explodes into light. "At whose hands? Yours?"

He hardly seems to notice your weapon, moving steadily closer and shaking his head. "Of course not." He stretches an arm toward you in what seems to be a peaceful gesture. "I can show you."

You hold your lightsaber steady for a long time, not answering. This is foolish and dangerous. You should lunge at him. Tell him to leave. Tell all of this to the council.

You lower your arm. He steps closer, and the visions pass into your consciousness.

Flames. Lava. Cries of anguish. The pain of a betrayal so deep that it seems to wrend your heart from your body.

Flashes of blue, searing, with the intent to kill.

Hatred. Screaming. Death. No - not just death. The utter destruction of a soul.

The depth of the pain surges through you and you fall to your knees, hitting the ground with tears pouring down your face.

He hadn't shown you anything. Not really. You don't know who has done this to Obi Wan. You don't have any idea of the events that will take place. All you know for certain is that it is real. A pain so great that death would have been a mercy.

You swallow, wiping the tears from your eyes, and gaze up at the dark figure above you. "Who," you rasp brokenly, "are you?"

He tilts his head forward, looking down at you. "I have no name. Not one that can be spoken." He chuckles. "You've known my sister well. And your people knew my father long ago. So, I suppose you could call me... brother."

His answer only leaves you more lost. But there's only one thing that matters. "And you know for certain that all of these things will happen... to my master?"

He nods slowly. "Unless you let me help you."

Your chest is still pounding, throat burning hot with held-back tears. You lower your eyes to the floor, knowing the path you are taking can only lead to ruin. But a choice that would allow Obi Wan to suffer as you've just seen is no choice at all. Steeling your resolve, you meet his burning gaze.

"What must I do?"

A/N: Thanks, as always, for reading. If you'd like to be added to the taglist (with only one chapter left lol) feel free to comment or message me.

On a side note, asks are still open if anyone is interested in my WIPs as listed here.

Taglist: @cosmicsierra @projectdreamwalker @guacam011y @thriving-n-jiving @reverieisaway @cursedcatimages @honeymoon7770 @hedvighedvig @cool-ontherun-world @ladytano420 @eddythewitch @impossibleprincess35 @thegreatwicked @mostthingskenobi @millercontracting @littleredwolf @b0xerdancer

<< Previous Chapter // Masterlist

#obi wan kenobi × reader #star wars #star wars fanfiction #obiwan #fanfic #obi wan x reader smut #obi wan x reader #smut

22 notes · View notes

corrupte3d-mindz · 2 days

Text

Red Carpet Rush

Cillian Murphy x Wife Reader

Summary: Cillian and his wife get dressed and are about to leave but then temptation takes over.

Wordcount: 6.1k

Warnings:

Straight up smut with a plot but the plot is messy especially in the first act of it, but once the afterparty hits, that’s where the good shits at and there’s a lot of oral, especially for the female lolz, switch! Cillian, slightly perverted Cillian if you squint, breeding kink?…, messy towards the end?!,unsafe sex, f! overstimulating, m! & f! oral receiving and giving, handjobs, fingering, p in v, soft/dirty talk, aftercare.

Cillian adjusted his bow tie while looking at himself in the bathroom mirror, exhaling slowly as he contemplated the evening ahead. While the honor of a nomination thrilled him, the prospect of mingling at yet another social event filled him with a familiar sense of dread. Lost in his thoughts, a sudden, captivating sound broke through: the distinct click of heels on the tile floor. An intimate shiver coursed through him, stirring something deep within.

He turned, and there she was. His wife, a vision of elegance and allure, stood before him. The black lace gloves caressed her slender arms, the pearls he had gifted her gleamed softly against her skin, and then his eyes found the pièce de résistance—the dress. It clung to her curves in all the right places, a tantalizing blend of sophistication and seduction. His heart quickened, and a primal desire flared within him.

"Christ, love," he murmured, his voice thick with a blend of admiration and lust. "You look... absolutely breathtaking."

She smiled, a knowing glint in her eye as she sauntered closer, the sway of her hips almost hypnotic. Cillian's pulse raced as he reached out, his fingers grazing the delicate lace of her gloves.

"These gatherings might be a bore," he whispered, his Irish accent adding a lyrical cadence to his words, "but you, my dear, make them worth every bloody second."

She chuckled softly, leaning in to brush her lips against his cheek. "Just try to behave yourself tonight," she teased, her breath warm against his skin.

His eyes darkened with desire as he pulled her closer, his hands resting on her waist. "No promises," he breathed, his lips hovering near her ear. "Especially when you look like that. It's going to be a challenge keeping my hands off you."

She bit her lip, a playful glint in her eye. "Then I suppose we'll have to make the most of our time before we leave, won't we?"

Cillian gave her a perverted grin, he checked his watch the time reading five hours before the whole event. The look of hunger and absolute desire. Cillian’s fingers gently brushed her cheek, his touch feather-light but electrifying. He cupped her face with a tenderness that belied the fire in his gaze. Without a word, he leaned in, capturing her lips in an insanely intense and deep kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of years of shared moments, whispered secrets, and unspoken promises. His lips moved against hers with a practiced ease, as though he were memorizing every contour, every curve.

She responded in kind, her hands finding their way to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in the soft curls at his hairline. The world outside ceased to exist, the impending awards ceremony forgotten in the haze of their shared passion. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more demanding. Cillian’s hands slid down to her waist, his grip firm but gentle as he lifted her effortlessly. He carried her to the bathroom counter, the cool marble contrasting with the heat of their bodies. He set her down with a careful precision, not breaking the kiss for even a second. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, drawing him closer. Cillian’s hands roamed her sides, tracing the lines of her dress with a reverence that made her shiver.

Breaking the kiss, he leaned back slightly, his breath coming in ragged pants. “God, yer beautiful,” he murmured, his Irish accent thick with emotion. His eyes raked over her, taking in the sight of her flushed cheeks and swollen lips. “Every time I look at ye, it feels like the first time.”

She smiled, a soft, knowing smile that spoke volumes. “You always know how to make me feel special, Cill,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of their hearts.

He kissed her again, softer this time, a promise of things to come. “I can’t help it,” he replied, his lips brushing against hers with every word. “Ye drive me mad, in the best way possible.” He trailed kisses along her jawline, down to the sensitive spot behind her ear. She tilted her head, giving him better access, a soft moan escaping her lips.

He stepped closer, his fingers brushing against the silky fabric of her dress, sending a shiver down her spine. His breath was hot against her neck as he leaned in, his lips grazing her ear. "Yer lookin' ravishin', love," he murmured, his Irish accent adding a melodic lilt to his words. She turned her head slightly, catching his gaze with a playful smile, knowing full well the effect she had on him.

Cillian's hand moved to her back, the heat of his touch seeping through the thin material. He took his time, savoring the moment as his fingers found the zipper. With deliberate slowness, he began to pull it down, the sound of the zipper echoing in the room. Her breath hitched, and she bit her lip, feeling the fabric loosen and fall away from her shoulders. As the dress slipped down, revealing the delicate black lace straps of her lingerie, Cillian couldn't suppress a low, throaty moan. "Jesus Christ, darlin'," he breathed, his eyes darkening with desire. "Yer pullin' me leg, wearin' this for tonight..”

Her body reacted instantly, heat pooling low in her belly. She faced him her lips slightly parted in surprise. "Cillian," she breathed, a mix of admonishment and need in her tone. But he was relentless, his hands sliding around her waist, pulling her flush against him. His hands slid down to the bottom of her dress then reaching in.

He hooked his fingers around the front of her panties, pulling them down just enough to gain access. His movements were slow, deliberate, as though he had all the time in the world. She felt her breath catch in her throat, her body already responding to his touch. The intimacy of the moment, the way he looked at her, made her feel completely bare, exposed in the best possible way. As his thumb traced over her clit, his strokes were uneven, unpredictable. He kept her guessing, the rhythm changing just as she thought she could anticipate the next move. Her hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more pressure, more friction. He chuckled softly, the sound a low rumble in his chest.

“Ye like that, love?” he asked, his voice a mere whisper against her ear. The question was rhetorical; he knew the answer.

She could only nod, biting her lip to stifle a moan. His thumb pressed down a little harder, drawing circles that made her legs tremble. His other hand, resting on her thigh, squeezed gently, grounding her in the moment. She could feel the roughness of his palm, a stark contrast to the gentleness of his touch.

“Ye’re so responsive,” he continued, his voice laced with admiration. “I love seein’ ye like this.”

Her breath hitched as he slipped a finger inside her, the sensation both shocking and electrifying. He moved with a slow, torturous pace, curling his finger just enough to hit the right spot. She gasped, her hands clutching the bathroom counter beneath her. He added another finger, stretching her slightly, the feeling both overwhelming and exquisite. Cillian’s thumb continued its uneven strokes on her clit, building her arousal higher and higher. She felt the heat pooling in her belly, her body tightening in anticipation of release. His fingers moved in and out of her, the rhythm maddeningly slow. Each thrust, each curl of his fingers, was precise, designed to drive her wild.

“God, Cillian,” she breathed, her voice shaky. “Don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, darlin’,” he replied, his tone affectionate yet commanding.

He increased the pace slightly, his fingers moving faster now, his thumb pressing down harder on her clit. She could feel the pressure building, her body coiling tighter and tighter. The pleasure was almost too much to bear, and she cried out, her hands flying to his shoulders for support.

“Ye’re close, aren’t ye?” he whispered, his breath hot against her neck. “I can feel ye tremblin’.”

She nodded frantically, her head thrown back, her mouth open in a silent scream. His fingers were relentless, driving her towards the edge with every stroke. She could feel herself teetering on the brink, the world narrowing down to the points where their bodies connected.

“Come for me, love,” he commanded softly, his voice like velvet. “Come on my fingers”

His words were her undoing. She shattered around him, her body convulsing as the orgasm ripped through her. Her cries filled the room, her hands gripping his shoulders with desperate strength. He kept moving his fingers, drawing out her pleasure, prolonging the ecstasy. As the waves of her climax subsided, she collapsed against him, her body spent and trembling. He withdrew his fingers slowly, carefully, and brought them to his lips, tasting her essence. The sight was almost enough to make her come again.

“Ye taste divine,” he said, his voice thick with desire. “I could do this all night.”

She smiled weakly, her body still humming with aftershocks. “You have no idea what you do to me,” she whispered.

He lay down beside her, pulling her close. “Oh, I think I do, love,” he replied, his eyes twinkling. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

However Cillian wasn’t done, lord she didn’t know what was coming to her.

As she leaned against the bathroom counter, her eyes focused intently on the mirror. Turning her back to the Cillian, she couldn't have anticipated the magnetic pull that Cillian always seemed to exert on her, a force of nature she was helpless to resist. Cillian stood just a few steps away, his eyes locked onto her reflection. He watched her with a mixture of admiration and raw desire, his gaze tracing the curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts, and the delicate lines of her neck. His eyes darkened as they moved lower, noticing the damp spot forming at the crotch of her panties.

"Love," he began, his voice thick with his Irish brogue and roughened by lust, "I can still see yer cunt drippin' through yer panties...still want more you needy slut..”

He moved closer, his hands finding her waist with practiced ease, pulling her against him. His touch was firm yet tender, the grip of a man who knew every inch of her body and reveled in its responses. He loved her hips, their gentle dips, and the promise of life they had carried. She had given him two beautiful children, and the thought of a third stirred something primal within him. Her breath hitched as she felt his hands slide around her body, cupping her hips. The heat of his palms seeped through the thin fabric of her dress, making her shiver in anticipation.

"Cillian," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, laden with need and anticipation.

"Shh, darlin'," he murmured against her ear, his breath hot and tantalizing. "Let me take care of ya."

His hands slipped under the hem of her dress, pushing it up and over her hips, exposing her to the cool air. She gasped, her body arching into his touch. Cillian's fingers found the edge of her panties once more, pulling them down slowly, savoring every inch of skin that was revealed like he didn’t just see it a minute ago.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he groaned, his voice a husky whisper. His fingers slid through her folds, gathering her slickness before circling her clit. Her hips bucked against his hand, seeking more of his touch.

Her head fell back against his shoulder, her eyes closing as she surrendered to the sensations he was creating. Cillian's other hand moved to her breast, kneading the soft flesh through her dress, his thumb brushing over her nipple.

"Cillian, please," she begged, her voice trembling with need. "I need you."

"Aye, love," he murmured, his lips brushing against her neck. "I know."

He turned her around, lifting her onto the counter. Her legs spread instinctively, making room for him between her thighs. He knelt, his eyes locking onto hers as he kissed his way up her inner thigh.

"Yer gonna feel so good, darlin'," he promised, his voice a seductive purr.

His tongue flicked out, tasting her, and she cried out, her hands gripping the edge of the counter. He licked and sucked at her clit, his fingers teasing her entrance. Her body trembled, overwhelmed by the pleasure he was giving her.

"Fuck, Cillian," she gasped, her hips grinding against his face.

He groaned, the vibrations sending shivers through her. His fingers slid into her, filling her, and she moaned loudly. He curled his fingers, hitting that spot inside her that made her see stars.

"That's it, love," he murmured against her clit. "Come for me."

She shattered, her orgasm washing over her in waves. Her body tensed and shook, her cries echoing in the bathroom. Cillian didn't stop, prolonging her pleasure until she was a quivering, breathless mess. Cillian looked up at her from her messy cunt with a glimmer of mischief.

“I think you can come again..”

That’s a chill down her spine, knowing that Cillian always had something up his sleeve, especially when it came to pleasuring her. What in the world was he gonna make her go through. A lot.. there was going to be a mess happening in this bathroom… He began with a kiss, a soft press of his lips against her inner thigh, teasing and testing her patience. His tongue followed, tracing patterns on her skin, each touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through her. When he finally reached her center, his tongue darted out, a light flick against her most sensitive spot that made her gasp.

"Cill," she moaned, her voice a breathless plea that only spurred him on. His hands gripped her thighs, holding her steady as his tongue delved deeper, exploring and tasting her with a fervent intensity. He alternated between slow, languid strokes and quick, teasing flicks, his rhythm designed to drive her to the edge and keep her there.

Her hips bucked against his mouth, seeking more, but Cillian was relentless in his control. He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with desire as he watched her. "Not yet, darlin'," he whispered, his voice rough with need. "I want t' see ye come apart for me." His thumb joined the fray, finding her clit with unerring precision. He rubbed it in slow, deliberate circles, the pressure just enough to push her higher but not enough to tip her over the edge. Her moans grew louder, filling the small bathroom with the sound of her pleasure.

"Cillian, please," she begged, her voice breaking on the words. Her body was a live wire, every nerve ending alight with sensation. He took pity on her then, increasing the pace of his thumb while his tongue continued its relentless assault. The combination was too much, too intense, and she felt herself hurtling towards the edge. Her climax hit her like a tidal wave, crashing over her with a force that left her breathless and trembling. Cillian held her through it, his movements never faltering as he guided her through the waves of pleasure. When she finally came down, he pressed a soft kiss to her thigh, his eyes filled with a quiet satisfaction.

It was his turn now…

With a slow, deliberate motion, he undid his belt with one hand, a practiced move that made her heart race. The sight of him undressing, so confident and controlled, always had a primal effect on her, stirring something deep and animalistic within. His fingers deftly unbuttoned his pants, the fabric slipping down his hips as he reached into his suit trousers. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, her breath hitching as she watched him pull out his already hard cock. The sight of him, so ready and eager, sent a wave of heat through her body.

"God, you always look so good when you take my cock," he murmured, his Irish accent wrapping around the words, making them all the more intoxicating. His voice was a low rumble, filled with a mix of lust and affection that made her pulse quicken.

She got off the counter and knelt before him, her eyes locked onto his throbbing cock. It stood proud and ready, glistening with pre-come that dripped tantalizingly from the slit. Her fingers wrapped around his length, the warmth of her touch making him groan softly. She marveled at how beautiful he looked, every inch of him demanding to be worshiped. Her thumb moved in slow, deliberate circles around the sensitive tip, drawing shaky breaths from Cillian. Occasionally, she traced the slit with precise precision, a motion that sent electric shivers down his spine and made his entire body tremble.

"Fuck, love, just like that," he muttered, his Irish brogue rough with desire.

She glanced up at him, her gaze meeting his. The raw need in his eyes spurred her on. She carefully took him into her mouth, just the tip at first, savoring the salty taste of him on her tongue. Cillian's hand reached out, gently grabbing a fistful of her hair. He was careful not to mess it up, but they both knew they had time to fix it if things got a bit wild.

"Christ," he breathed, his voice low and strained. "You're gonna be the death of me, y'know that?"

She responded with a soft hum, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure coursing through him. Slowly, she took him deeper, inch by inch, until he hit the back of her throat. His grip on her hair tightened, but he remained gentle, not wanting to hurt her. Her lips formed a perfect seal around him, and she began to bob her head, setting a steady rhythm that had him on the edge of control. His hips bucked involuntarily, and he had to force himself to stay still, to let her set the pace.

"Fuck, love, you're incredible," he rasped, his accent thickening with each word. "So bloody perfect."

She moved her hand to the base of his cock, stroking in tandem with her mouth, while her other hand cupped his balls, gently massaging them. Cillian's head fell back, his eyes closing as he surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure. Every so often, she'd pull back, just to the tip, and swirl her tongue around the head, teasing him until he was a trembling mess beneath her. Then, she'd take him deep again, her cheeks hollowing with the effort.

"You're too good at this, darlin'," he managed to say between gasps. "Gonna make me lose my mind."

She pulled back for a moment, her hand continuing to pump his length as she looked up at him. "That's the idea, love," she whispered, her voice sultry and filled with mischief. Cillian's breath hitched at her words, and he tightened his grip on her hair, guiding her back to his cock. "Then don't stop," he urged, his voice a low growl.

She obliged, taking him back into her mouth with renewed vigor. Her head bobbed faster now, her tongue working magic on his sensitive flesh. He was close, so close, and she could tell by the way his thighs tensed and his breathing became erratic.His hand slipped from her hair to her shoulder, gripping it tightly as he felt the familiar heat pooling in his groin. "Gonna cum, love," he warned, his voice strained. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum."

She didn't falter, her mouth and hands working in perfect harmony to push him over the edge. With a final, shuddering gasp, he exploded, his cum spilling into her mouth in hot, thick spurts. She swallowed every drop, her eyes never leaving his face as he rode out his orgasm. When he finally came down from his high, she released him gently, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his now-softening cock before standing up and facing the mirror. Cillian was still panting heavily, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath.

Without a word, they both knew it was time to leave, but an electric current of unspoken desire lingered between them. As he fixed his bow tie in the mirror, he caught her reflection, her eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement and the residue of their passionate encounter.

"Ready, love?" he asked, his Irish accent adding a lyrical lilt to his words.

She nodded, her lips curving into a knowing smile. They stepped out, and the ride to the Oscars was filled with a charged silence. Cillian's mind wandered, replaying the moments they'd just shared. His eyes traced the outline of her legs, imagining the softness of her skin under his fingers. He reached over, giving her hand a gentle squeeze, and she responded with a mischievous glance that promised more to come. The ceremony was a whirlwind of lights, cameras, and applause. Cillian's nomination had already put them in the spotlight, but the electricity between them added an extra spark to their evening. When his name was announced as the winner, he stood up, the room erupting in applause. As he made his way to the stage, he cast a glance back at her, the pride in her eyes filling him with warmth.

As the night progressed, they mingled with other celebrities, but their connection remained unbroken. They exchanged glances across the room, each one a silent promise. Finally, as the evening drew to a close, they slipped away, eager to return to the privacy of their home. Back in the car, Cillian's hand found its way to her thigh, his fingers drawing lazy circles on her skin. She shivered at his touch, her body already anticipating what was to come. They barely made it through the door before their lips met in a fervent kiss, the intensity of their need taking over. He pressed her against the wall, his hands roaming over her body, reacquainting themselves with every curve and contour.

"Couldn't stop thinkin' about ye all night," he murmured against her neck, his breath hot and uneven.

Cillian chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest as he moved them both onto their bed. His cock was already making a massive tent in his pants, a testament to his intense desire for her. She could feel it throbbing against her thigh, a constant reminder of the hunger that simmered between them.

"Baby, you looked so fuckin' good up there," she murmured.

His hands roamed over her body, tracing the curves he knew so well. She shivered under his touch, her own arousal mirroring his. Their eyes locked, and the connection between them felt almost tangible, a living, breathing entity that demanded attention. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of need, of passion, of a love that consumed them both. She responded eagerly, her fingers threading through his hair as she pulled him closer. The taste of him was intoxicating, a heady mix of desire and the faint hint of whiskey from the after-party.

Cillian's hands moved to the zipper of her dress, slowly lowering it to reveal the smooth expanse of her back. He trailed kisses down her spine, each one igniting a fire that burned hotter and hotter. She arched against him, her body craving more of his touch.

"Ye drive me mad, y'know that?" he whispered against her skin, his breath hot and tantalizing.

She let out a soft moan, the sound sending a jolt of arousal straight to his groin. He moved her so she was beneath him, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. His hands slid under the dress, pushing it up and over her head, leaving her in nothing but her lacy undergarments. Cillian's breath was heavy, almost ragged, as his hands snaked towards her black lace panties. His fingers trembled with anticipation, a testament to his barely contained desire. As he reached the delicate strap that curved around her hip, he paused, savoring the moment, his eyes drinking in every inch of her form.

With a careful, deliberate movement, he hooked his right pointer finger around the strap. The lace was soft against his skin, a stark contrast to the intensity of his need. He tugged gently, the fabric yielding to his touch. He felt the tension in his own body mirrored in hers as he carefully removed the whole thing, the black lace sliding down her legs and finally off her feet.

He took in the sight before him, his heart pounding in his chest. God, she was so fucking beautiful, especially her dripping cunt, glistening in the dim light of their bedroom. His breath hitched, and he let out a low, reverent, “Fuckin’ hell…”

His voice was thick with awe and lust, the Irish lilt making the words sound even more intimate. He knelt between her legs, his eyes never leaving her face. He could see the desire burning in her eyes, matching his own. The connection between them was electric, a living, breathing thing that pulsed with every heartbeat. Slowly, he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of her thigh. Her skin was warm, her scent intoxicating. He trailed kisses upwards, each one a promise of the pleasure to come. She shivered under his touch, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

“Ye’re so fuckin’ gorgeous, love,” he murmured against her skin, his voice low and husky. “Can’t get enough of ye.”

With a low growl, he leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from her dripping cunt. The scent of her arousal filled his senses, driving him wild with desire. He could hear the raggedness of his own breath, could feel the blood rushing through his veins. He was consumed by the need to taste her, to feel her slick heat against his tongue. But he held himself back, his self-control warring with his primal instincts. He knew he needed to take things slow, to savor every moment with her. With a deep breath, he pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting hers with a fierce intensity.

"Lie back for me, love," he whispered, his voice a gentle command laced with affection.

She complied, reclining onto the bed as he positioned himself between her legs. Without another word, he leaned in, pressing a series of soft, reverent kisses along her inner thighs. Each touch was a testament to his love and desire, a promise of the pleasure to come. His hands gently caressed her hips, holding her steady as he lowered his head to her sloppy dripping cunt. He began with slow, tender licks, his tongue exploring her folds with a gentle curiosity. The taste of her, the scent of her arousal, it drove him wild. He couldn't help but let out a low groan, the sound vibrating against her sensitive skin.

"Fuckin' hell," he muttered against her, the words barely audible but filled with raw desire.

His movements were unhurried, deliberate. He wanted to savor every moment, to make her feel cherished and adored. His tongue circled her clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to draw soft moans from her lips. He relished in the sounds she made, each one a testament to his effect on her.

"You're so good to me, Cillian," she breathed, her hands threading through his hair, urging him closer.

He responded by increasing the intensity of his ministrations, his tongue moving with a fervor that matched the pounding of his heart. He could feel her hips bucking against him, her body trembling with the pleasure he was giving her. His hands gripped her thighs, holding her steady as he continued his worship. Her moans grew louder, more desperate, and he knew she was close. He focused on her clit, alternating between flicks of his tongue and gentle suction, driving her higher and higher. He wanted nothing more than to see her fall apart, to know that he was the one who brought her to this peak.

When she finally came, it was with a cry of his name, her body arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crashed over her. He didn't stop, didn't let up, riding out her orgasm until she was a quivering, sated mess beneath him. He pressed a final, gentle kiss to her sloppy cunt before moving up to lie beside her. He gathered her in his arms, holding her close as she came down from her high. Cillian's eyes darkened with desire as he looked at her. His breath hitched, and his pulse quickened, the raw need evident in his gaze. He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear, and whispered in a voice thick with longing, "I need you, darlin'."

She felt the heat of his words and the shiver of anticipation it sent down her spine. Her heart pounded in her chest as she leaned into him, her body responding to his unspoken desire. She reached around him, her fingers deftly undoing the zipper of his pants. The urgency of her movements matched the thrum of his heartbeat. As she freed him from the confines of his trousers, Cillian let out a low, throaty growl. The sound was primal, filled with a hunger that spoke of how deeply he needed her. He captured her lips in a fierce, passionate kiss, his hands roaming over her body, feeling every curve, every inch of her that drove him wild with desire.

Her hands moved with purpose, stroking him, feeling the heat and hardness that pulsed with his need. He broke the kiss, his breath ragged, and looked into her eyes, his own filled with a mix of love and desperation. "You're driving me crazy," he murmured, his Irish lilt adding a melodic quality to his words.

She smiled, a mix of affection and mischief dancing in her eyes. "I know," she replied, her voice soft and teasing. "And I love it."

Cillian's hands moved to her hips, guiding her against him. The friction of her body against his sent waves of pleasure through him, each touch igniting the fire that burned within. He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear once more. "I'm gonna make you scream my name, darlin'." Just then, Cillian gently and carefully slipping just an inch in her. Watching her movements and noises she made by being caught of guard. Then he bottomed out in her. The noises she made were like music to his ears.

“F-fuck your still so tight..you make me want to ruin that tight little hole of yours so bad”

As he begins to thrust, his movements are measured, synchronized with the rhythm of their bodies intertwining. Though typically reserved, his restraint is tested in this moment of raw vulnerability. Unable to contain the overwhelming sensations coursing through him, a low, guttural moan escapes his lips, betraying the depths of his pleasure. His breath becomes ragged, each exhale a symphony of ecstasy and longing.

“I saw the way you were lookin’ at me while I was up there givin’ that speech..” he paused, “You dirty fuckin’ slut..”

Cillian shuttered slightly, even though he’s rammed his cock in his wife’s cunt many times over but it still has not gotten old and he still cannot keep his composure as much as he wants to however a dominant side tends come out on certain days and in certain occasions, and this was that occasion.

“F-fuck your still so tight..you make me want to ruin that tight little hole of yours so bad”

He started to slowly and precariously thrust into her, making sure every single moment his hips collided with hers that it was perfection. His breath slowly started to crack and shutter. He was such a mess anytime he got his hands on her didn’t matter what situation, it didn’t matter aware. He couldn’t keep his mouth shut, however, he was learning composure tonight it was her turn to be the thoughtless slut.

“Oh…I feel ye’ fuckin’ twitchin’ on it..love..”

His hand snaked up and around her perfect body, to the front of her dripping cunt. His thumb finding its way to her clit and beginning to rub uneven and broken circles around her clit, making her practically live on her toes just from this touch he was providing her.

“C-Cill~” She said while practically whimpering and moaning.

He smiled while barely keeping his composure. He was shivering, shaking, and practically drooling he never got used to this feeling, and he never would. It was always an intimate feeling that they both shared. “Fu-fuck you’re so perfect when you take my cock, love..”

Cillian started to speed up his thumb on her clit, he could and feel her coming close to cumming. He thrust becoming more fast deeper and more sloppy.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ like it don’t you? You’re such a a slut..”

He sped up his thumb movements on her clit, while his hips were thrusting as fast as he could without physically passing out. When she finally came, it was with a scream that echoed through the room, her body shaking with the force of her climax. Cillian followed soon after, his own release hitting him like a freight train. He groaned her name, his body tensing as he spilled into her, the pleasure overwhelming him.

They collapsed together in a mess of sweat, bodily fluids, and love. Such a beautiful site to see truly. As the intensity of their passionate embrace begins to wane, Cillian tenderly guides her to the warmth and comfort of their bed. His movements are slow and deliberate, his touch gentle yet firm as he ensures she feels supported and cared for every step of the way. With a soft smile and a reassuring squeeze of her hand, he settles her onto the soft mattress, a sanctuary of peace and intimacy.

As they lay side by side, the warmth of their bodies radiating against each other, Cillian's hands begin to explore her skin with a tender reverence. His touch is gentle yet purposeful, his fingers tracing the contours of her body with an intimate familiarity that speaks of years spent in each other's embrace.

"Are you okay, love?" Cillian's voice was low and soothing, laced with genuine concern as he searched her eyes for any sign of discomfort or distress.

She nodded softly, her fingers intertwining with his as she squeezed his hand reassuringly. "I'm fine, Cillian," she replied, her voice warm and affectionate. "Just a bit tired, but in the best possible way."

Cillian's heart swelled with love for her, his chest tightening with a mixture of tenderness and desire. He leaned in to press a soft kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering against her skin as he breathed in the scent of her hair. "You were incredible, as always," he murmured, his words filled with admiration and reverence. He shifted closer to her, his arm wrapping protectively around her waist as he pulled her into a gentle embrace. She nestled against him, her head resting against his chest as she listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. They lay there together in comfortable silence, basking in the afterglow of their shared intimacy. The steady beat of their hearts a comforting reminder of the bond that binds them together as one.

Author’s Notes:

This was in the backlogs of my drafts it’s like the backrooms over here man. It’s scary like this was supposed to be for the Oscars, also I didn’t think the last smut I wrote for Cillian would be the most liked post I have..but here we are. I like attention, I’m an attention whore. But also a slut for Cillian himself..fuck I love that man.

If the male scene seems off like cause she’s sitting on the counter then perceiving to give him head just ignore that part. I couldn’t write it any other different way. Just let my mind do the way it does it. Let’s just say she’s on the floor now like on her knees. Also, yes, I do use both words ‘Cum’ and ‘come’ both of them are habits when I use more than the other, but sometimes they merge depending on who is saying it because one can have more of an accent than the other and if you notice it then I’ve done my job.

Maybe it’s messy in the end but how cares? I love messy smut and so should you!

Credit for the masterlist banner: Myself! I finally made a crap ton of them on Canva!

Credit for the little sparkle smol divider: Cafekitsune

49 notes · View notes

taichissu · 1 year

Text

i always love the non-christian portrayal of christmas

#it might not sound like it but i promise it makes sense #christmas in general is very deeply rooted in the tradition of our country #and a big part of what some of us do during christmas can be considered pagan so it's hated by the church #to many of us its not a celebration of christ's birth but the celebration of winter and being close with your family #its about eating warm meals together and singing local carols #like i know Christmas is a christian tradition but its not only celebrated by christians #so i feel lonely whenever i see it portrayed as a solely christian holiday

4 notes · View notes

hollandsangel · 2 months

Text

voice | m. sturniolo

i had this idea a million years ago, please enjoy!!

summary: chris wonders if you can tell his and matt’s voice apart

warnings: super fluffy!! a bit suggestive at the very end, i’m questioning if it’s good or not

wc: 1.6k

gif by @mattsturnioloarchive !

“i call shower first!” you exclaim the second the garage door is open, sprinting past matt up the stairs to his bathroom.

“there’s three showers,” chris says matter-of-factly as you blow past him on the steps, holding a hand out in confusion.

matt sighs and follows behind you, passing chris as well, “yeah, but you don’t have to share,”

you’re already on the mainfloor, running into matt’s bedroom to grab the change of clothes you’d left earlier.

“i’m so glad i don’t have a girlfriend,” chris mutters, earning a smack upside the head from nick, “jesus, fuck, what,”

“you’re just annoying,” nick says, deciding it’s a good enough explanation and getting a laugh out of matt.

“agreed,” matt’s still chuckling when they reach the kitchen table, setting down the take out the four of you had gotten on your way back to the house. he hears the water turn on in his bathroom, accompanied by the soft sound of your voice as you sing along to your music.

“oh she’s a nicki fan,” nick says to no one in particular, referencing the tik tok sound when he notices you’re listening to a nicki minaj song.

matt looks up from the bag of food and laughs.

chris sinks into the couch but looks over at matt, arm slung over the cushions, “i wonder if she could tell our voices apart,” he says after a second.

“what?” matt asks, thinking the question is mildy rediculous.

“like do you think she could recognize your voice?” chris explains, wandering into the kitchen now. opening a pepsi and leaning up against the counter.

nick chimes in now, having been fiddling with the vlog camera and battery, “like compared to you and me?” he asks chris, glancing back at matt as if to say ‘is this guy for real?’

“yeah,” chris nods.

“yeah, obviously she’d be able to tell my voice apart from yours,” matt is looking back at the food again, tone matter-of-fact, as if what he’d said was absolute common sense.

chris is quiet for about half a second and matt thinks that’s the end of that absurd conversation. it isn’t, of course.

“should we test it out?” chris asks through a sip of soda.

matt officially gives up on trying to set the food up, throwing his hands up in mock surrender before turning to chris, “and how are we gonna do that?”

chris shrugs, but nick has an idea, “chris, you could like, just go ask her for something, if you left something in the bathroom—“

“absolutely not,” matt shuts it down immediately with a shake of his head, “you're not going in the bathroom when my girlfriend is showering,”

“i won’t even go all the way in!! i’ll cover my eyes,” chris promises, but matt is still skeptical. “i’ll just like poke my head in the door and ask if i left like..a belt or some shit in there,” is chris’ next offer.

matt sighs and thinks about it, weighing the pros and cons. of course you can tell his voice apart from his brothers…right? he’s making himself nervous, pysching himself out and worrying they all sound the same to you. it upsets him for some reason, he can’t quite decide why.

“fine,” he agrees after a beat of silence, convincing himself you know whis voice well enough to separate it from chris’, and if you can’t, he thinks he might actually feel a sick twinge of unjustified jealousy.

“yes,” chris mutters under his breath, always excited to pull a prank on anyone.

“this is definitely going in the vlog,” nick says, still messing with the camera and coming to sit at the kitchen table where matt is now.

“i can’t believe i agreed to this,” matt mumbles, rubbing his eyes and taking a deep breath. he stands from his seat and walks over to the wall where he can see the bathroom door, feeling some what protective, like he needs to supervise chris to make sure he doesn’t wander too far into the bathroom.

“what should i say?” chris turns back arms pulled in close to his body as if he’s nervous. he’s already grinning and trying to keep from laughing.

“ooh, call her sweetheart, matt always does that,” nick suggests, wiggling his brows in matt’s direction to tease him.

“oh my god,” matt groans softly, rubbing at his eyes, “i fucking hate you guys,”

“okay, i’m going in,” matt drops his hands at that, eyes on his brother immediately. chris puts a hand over his eyes, just as he said he said he would before knocking on the door. nick has the camera out to record and is trying to stifle his laugh in the collar of his hoodie.

at the sound of the knock matt hears your voice, calling out for him, no doubt thinking it’s him at the door. he has to cover his mouth, partly out of nerves but also to keep himself from saying anything.

“yeah,” chris starts, needing to take a second before continuing because he’s already making himself laugh. “yeah, sweetheart, did i leave my belt in here?” he asks, barely stood in the doorway of the bathroom.

“uhh, i think it’s in your bedroom?” you say after a slight pause, about to poke your head out from behind the shower curtain, but chris has already mumbled a ‘thanks’ and essentially sprinted out of the bathroom, closing the door and crumbling to the floor in giggles.

“you’re not fucking real,” matt shakes his head, laughing softly himself and pushing off the wall to go back to the kitchen table. he’s a bit bummed that you didn’t realize it wasn’t his voice, but he keeps that to himself.

nick pans the camera over to matt’s face, which seems expressionless, even with both his brothers cackling outside of the frame.

you come out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, heading into matt’s bedroom to drop the clothes you’d changed out of. matt is instantly sitting back up, the legs of his chair scraping along the hardwood floors.

“ooh, someone’s pissed,” nick turns the camera to himself, eyeing the now closed door.

“that was too fucking good,” chris says after a deep breath, still recovering from laughing so hard. he pulls a chair out next to nick and the two start to explain what had happened to the camera, eyes flicking up to matt’s door every few seconds.

in the bedroom you’re putting your dirty clothes back into your bag when matt comes in, looking a little bit pouty, “hey baby,” you turn towards him, laughing at the slightly pathetic look he gives you, “what’s up?” you wonder.

“m’ tired,” he tells you, slumping up against you for a hug. you wrap your arms around him and rub his back, letting him lay his weight into you.

“we’ll eat and go to bed, yeah?” you give his back another little pat when he nods against you, “mkay, let’s go,” you kiss his cheek quickly, only to have him turn his head in search of a real kiss. you oblige of course.

nick and chris have already started eating and updating the vlog on their day when you and matt come out of the bedroom. matt joins them at the table but you head for the fridge to grab a drink. “oh, did you find your belt?” you ask matt, still digging around.

“what?— oh yeah” he mumbles, gaze turned down to his fries.

“okay good. by the way you sounded so much like chris when you came in— it freaked me the fuck out” you say with your head in the fridge, still searching for the diet coke you know you left inside the door, “did one of you drink my coke–”

“wait what?” matt’s head snaps up, food forgotten.

“hmm?” you turn around to find all three boys looking at you. nick’s mouth open in a half smile and chris clearly trying not to burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. matt’s just staring at you with eyes a little bit too wide before he speaks up.

“what do you mean i sounded weird?” he asks, leaning forward. you notice nick’s shut up about whatever he was saying to the camera earlier, pointing the lens at you now.

“i dunno, when you said sweetheart it just sounded super fucking weird— why are you guys looking at me like that–” you have to ask, feeling slightly weirded out by the intensity of their gazes

“i knew it!!” matt cheers, punching the air and doing a silly little dance as nick doubles over and starts hitting the table.

chris’ jaw drops and he presses his fingers into his eyes as he laughs next to his brother, leaning on him.

matt bounds over to you with a grin, arms wrapping around your waist and lifting you off the ground slightly.

“whaaaat,” you giggle, clearly confused by their reaction.

“it was me,” chris manages to say between bouts of laughter, “we– we were trying to see if you could tell our voices apart.”

“of course i can tell your voices apart, especially your voice,” you turn towards matt, saying it like it should be obvious, like it’s silly they doubted you for even a second.

matt’s just grinning at you, feeling a strange sense of pride swelling in his chest, “i knew you could,”

“bullshit!” chris exclaims, both him and nick still leaning against each other as they laugh.

“he’s right, you were freaked the fuck out,” nick manages to say between giggles, “you watched chris like a fucking hawk when he opened the bathroom door,” he looks over at you, his smile contagious, “he was definitely freaked the fuck out,”

matt groans and drops his head against your shoulder. you brush your fingers through his hair and chuckle to yourself, “awe matt,” you coo, “i definitely know your voice, i’ll probably be hearing lots of it later anyways.”

tags ! @st4rswrld @urfavvev3lyn @mattsturnioloarchive @averysbestyears @its-jennarose

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt struniolo x you #matt sturniolo blurb #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo

3K notes · View notes

churipu · 4 months

Text

STRAIGHT TO VOICEMAIL 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

ִ ࣪𖤐 featuring. gojo satoru

ִ ࣪𖤐 warnings. cursing, mentions of death, gojo being sad and angry, 2006 gojo geto shoko.

note. for some reason i feel angsty today and i just saw this prompt on pin, just had to write it lol.

gojo has never loathed himself more than when he missed your call — your very last call.

"i could've fuckin' saved them, suguru." gojo blankly stared at the ceiling, his head thrown back onto the couch's rest; he was conflicted, he didn't know what to do. it was as if his motoric abilities had just stopped all of a sudden.

"satoru . . ."

"i could've fuckin' saved y/n." the white haired male mumbled out, his face scrunching in frustration.

gojo has dealt with death. a lot. the concept of death isn't a stranger to him anymore, not in this world — and to think that he'd actually be alive to experience deaths of his loved ones, thinking he could have done so much more made him hate himself.

god, gojo hated crying in front of other people. the aura in the room was palpable. nobody spoke —nobody dared to speak— and the only sound resounding was the vague ticking belonging to the clock hanging on the wall.

"i could've fuckin' saved them," the male repeated for the third time, his voice breaking that he had to inhale sharply to stop himself from breaking down right there.

gojo pushed himself up, placing his palms above his eyes, pressing down on them harshly; he lets out a loud sigh, "where the fuck did it all go wrong?"

"y/n was killed in action . . ." god, gojo wanted to rip his hair out when yaga called him in privately to say that. the male had lost count of how many times the statement repeated in his mind.

frankly, it's haunting.

out of all the news he could have received today, he never expected to hear your death lulling into his eardrums. so soon. so many things swirling in his mind all at once that even he, deemed the strongest, felt the sensation of losing. he felt weak.

"hi, 'toru — you're probably busy since my call went straight to voice mail, but 'm just saying . . . i love you, and i miss you. so much." there was a slight pause and your breathing shallowed into the mic, every single detail in your last moments were graved in that file, "'m not sure if . . . i'll be back as soon as i promised, but, i just want you to know that whatever happens. happens."

there was a slight static before your soft voice recoiled back into the mic, "i've never broken any promises to you, but this might be the very first time — and just know that i've never wanted to do this, i fucking hate myself for this," your voice broke slightly, "'m bleeding. a lot. but 'm trying to stop it just like how ieiri taught me. and i think 'm doing shit at it . . . i don't know what happened, and how it happened; but 'm not doing okay."

"i don't want to die, 'toru." you whispered into the mic, hoarse and weak — feeling the life drain out, "i really don't want to die . . . i have so many things i want to do with you, and suguru, and ieiri . . ." you murmur out, inhaling sharply but it all ended up with you coughing out in pain.

"remember that time i said i wanted to open a pet hotel . . ? i don't know if you think i was joking, but i was really serious about opening one," you began to mumble out, all in random directions — none of your words make any sense anymore, and you could barely keep yourself awake.

"i don't want to die, please," you pleaded, desperate for life. no matter what you did at this point — the light inside of you was almost out, and you can't do anything about it, "fuck. i hate this. so much, 'toru."

"i want to see you again. i miss you. i miss you so so much," you softly murmur out, " . . . i love you. i love you so much, satoru."

and everything ended right after. including you.

gojo has never loathed himself more than when he missed your call. your. very. last. call.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo #satoru #gojo angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk angst #gojo satoru angst #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #angst

3K notes · View notes

yanderenightmare · 7 months

Text

TW: NSFW, yandere, f!reader, bondage, abuse, punishment, intense spanking/whipping-ish

gn reader

“Please- plea- m’so- sorry-” You sob, voice cracking on its own blubbering. Chest full of panic – heaving for a fix but achieving little less than spurring even more hysteria.

“Haah…” He sighs. Casually fixing your bonds tighter around your wrists, hoisting them a little higher above your head until you were properly stretched up on your tippy-toes.

Shivering in just your undies in anxious wait of his anger.

Stroking your back while holding your belly in a steady hand, he thinks he’s never felt fear quite like it, but unfortunately, “Y’broke the rules, Sunshine… and now yer’ gettin’ punished.”

He unbuckles his belt. Your eardrums burn at the crisp sound, so much spiked blood rushing about, making you go dizzy.

You think you might pass out.

“What did I say the rules were, hm? ‘You remember ‘em?” He mumbles in a steady tone, speaking awfully softly with his lips pressed against your temple. Waiting for your answer.

You give a sob and a pitiful nod, and he hums in return, rubbing calm circles into your shivering, goose-fleshed skin.

“Recite them for me.” He requests, nose rubbing your hairline as you shiver from his touch.

Voice unsteady, filtered through tears and a hopeless sense of terror – chin tipped up, needing to gasp for breaths. “N-no fighting, no- no arguing, no run- running-”

“Mh…” He hums, taking in the scent of your shampoo with a sniff of your crown, placing a kiss there as though in kudos – or as a small mercy before getting started. “And you managed to do all three in one night. ‘You feel proud, hm? ‘You feel accomplished? Hm? Was it worth it?”

You whimper under the interrogation, feeling smaller and smaller by the second – so exposed where you are, practically hanging from the ceiling like dead meat. Stripped of everything that might’ve protected you – or that would have at least cushioned the coming onslaught of pain you knew to dread.

“Nah… it’s written all over your body. Goosebumps and cold sweat, shaking from tits to toes. You regret it, don’t you?” He murmured, winding his belt around his fist once, then twice, leaving a looped tail. “Mh, maybe you’ll think twice about it next time... or maybe you’ll finally learn your place.”

He finished with a soft bite to the chub of your cheek, then grabbed your chin just as gently, holding your face up to look at him as he sidestepped to your front. Leaning his forehead against yours, he stroked your jaw with his thumb – lips hovering just short of yours.

“I'm gonna hurt you, Sweetie.” He purred, stroking your asscheek with the cool leather in his grip – in such gross contrast to what you knew he planned on using it for. “I promised I would, and now I will…”

He kissed your lips then – slowly, sweetly – suffocatingly so as you cried – tasting your tears and doing a terrible job at withholding his grin as you felt it pull giddily at the corner of his mouth.

He licked his lips once he pulled away, walking a circle around you like a shark.

“How many hits do you deserve?” He mused. “I guess one for each rule you broke is fair, but it seems a little scant…”

He stopped behind you, placing a chaste kiss on your arm before nuzzling around it.

“Should we say thirty?” He offered, and your eyes immediately widened.

Shaking your head furiously, prayers already coming out in splutters. “No- please-”

“No? Too many?” He pouted, not bothering to mask his glee now. “Okay, okay, calm down, baby. Breathe.” He soothed with no effort. “I think…”

There was a pause – a hum of thought as he wrapped his arms around your front and swayed you back against his chest in a hug.

“Ugh fuck, I'm no good makin’ rules on the fly…” He feigned - sinking his jaw into the grove of your armpit before cuddling the soft flesh with his chin-stubble.

He sucked his teeth in a further display of thought before releasing an exasperated sigh.

“I really didn’t think you’d break ‘em, y’know? I thought you’d be a good pet…”

You trembled, eyes looking down at the belt held between his big hands – whimpering at the sight of him simply playing with it – psyching you out like a true sadist.

“But you just had to disappoint me, didn’t you?”

You bit your lip to stop a sob.

“Had to be difficult… and now I gotta make difficult decisions…”

He slinked off you, leaving you to wobble – toes barely grazing the cold basement floor.

You try your best to prepare yourself for the next events, but the more you brace yourself the more tense you get and the harder you cry. “Please- I’ll be good- promise- m’real- really sorry-”

“I know, baby. I know~ I am, too.” He coos, kissing your spine while rubbing circles into your sides – feeling your ribs rattle with sniffles, struggling for air through your panic. “I wanna make sure we never have to be sorry again.”

He wraps an arm around the front of your hips, steadying you while stroking the loop of his belt over your plump cheeks – tentatively teasing the soft flesh with what was soon to come.

He licked his lips at the promise – already imagining the flawless flesh blooming with his marks.

“I think thirty is fair.”

“No- no please- please, don’t-” You thrash – but do so little more than in place.

“Don’t squirm.” He interrupts, his hand curling into your hip with blunt nails denting the fine skin, keeping you still, pushing your side snugly against his front – holding you intimately while gruffing out eerie murmurs still much too softly for what he was saying. “Remember, it’s another ten hits if you fight me and another ten if you argue.”

At least he doesn’t make you count....

You wouldn’t have been able to even under threat – too busy wailing.

Each hit like the lash of a whip, smacking you fast, one on top of the other. It’s enough to make you throw up after half of it – though it's mostly just water and acid.

He takes pity enough to allow you a small break. Wringing off his wife-beater and wiping your mouth with it – also brushing some of the sweat off your brow before kissing your forehead.

“Halfway there, Sweetie- you’re doing so good~” He whispered soothingly, holding your cheeks to pick your face up from hanging – looking into the hopeless look of your opium-blown eyes – so lost he didn’t know if you could even hear him.

He acts as though he’s sorry after, but the boner he’s got nudged against you doesn’t lie – desperately dry-humping your thigh for some sort of relief.

His breaths are tight and hot, puffed against your arm where he now mouths wet kisses. “Good-” He swallows thickly, brows tight-knit, voice thick with lust. “Good pet.”

You hadn’t noticed he was done. And the relief doesn’t register either. There isn’t much comfort in it to grasp, not with the pain still so numbingly intense that you can’t feel anything but the raw sting.

He drops the belt to the floor and struggles his fly open, shoving the trousers down along with his boxers, stepping out of the heap in a rush – all the while sucking sloppy kisses on your shoulder and nape, mumbling praise. “Y’were so good- so good fo’me- gonna reward yah- my good fuckin’ baby- gonna make yah feel so fuckin’ good now-”

The flesh of your ass burns with welts and split skin, ugly marks already lining the once-pretty color with horrid shades of bruise-dark. Your throat’s ripped raw from all the wailing – only weeping harder when he takes your hips and sways you back to meet his fat erection.

He shamelessly rubs himself between your cheeks – frenzied with his mouth gaping, releasing a filthy shuddering moan while leering at the beautiful sight of his handiwork – feeling so proud he was blushing just from sheer sadistic enjoyment – even letting slip a breathy laugh now.

He hung his tongue out and let his drool drip onto the shaft, then placed another kiss between your shoulder blades. Gliding his tip down and, with the help of a hand, pushed it between your cheeks until it caught your entrance.

A rugged groan blew hotly down your spine, and another cry was ripped from your chest as he sunk inside without a single spare second to waste.

He laid his face to rest against your back, nudging up inside you slowly with both arms wrapping around you like before – holding you snugly before he began the intimate pace, fucking only the deepest coziest parts of you.

“I love you, Sunshine- you’re mine- only one I give two shits about- rest can just fuck off for all I care- as long as I have you- right here… forever.”

BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Dabi, Hawks, Overhaul, Aizawa, Todoroki

JJK – Toji, Nanami, Geto, Gojo, Sukuna, Naoya

HQ - Iwaizumi, Matsukawa, Sakusa, Suna, either Miya twin

BLLK - Isagi, Reo, Kunigami

DS - Doma

CSM - Aki

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere smut #yancore #yandere bakugo #yandere kirishima #yandere dabi #yandere hawks #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere jjk #yandere haikyuu #yandere toji #yandere nanami #yandere geto #yandere demon slayer #yandere blue lock #yandere csm

6K notes · View notes

soaps-mohawk · 1 month

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 18: Don't Let Me Go

Summary: Things have gone wrong in your pack's absence. Can they make it back in time before irreparable damage is done? Can they fix the damage that's already been dealt?

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 10,232...oops

Warnings: ANGST, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, ANGST, anxiety, fear, panic attacks, very descriptive scenes of panic and anxiety, very heavy emotionally in the beginning, major invasions of privacy, hurt/sort of comfort, very brief mention of violence and death, and most importantly: fluff

A/N: Yeah, so this one kind of got away from me. It's definitely one of my favorite chapters now, and it's definitely the longest so far. It's pretty heavy, so plan something fun afterwards because it will hurt. I tried to catch all the possible triggers, but of course, if I miss one let me know. I promise things will begin to take a turn for the happier after this, at least for a bit. Picks up pretty much right where chapter 17 left off.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

You’re shaking. Your breaths are coming in gasps as you stare at your open door. There’s no scent in the air, nothing that would give you a hint of who invaded your space, or if they’re still in there. You should leave, barricade yourself somewhere and call Dr. Keller, or even Kate.

What could they do, though? Your pack won’t be home until tomorrow at the earliest.

No one can help you.

You slowly push your door open, ready to run in case someone is hiding inside. You stand in the doorway, scanning the small space, but there’s no sign of anyone. There’s still no scent either, just your own mingled with the slight chemical burn of scent blockers. Your eyes scan the room, looking for anything that might be new, anything that might be missing, anything that might be slightly out of place.

The clothes on the floor are slightly rumpled, but you’re not sure if you did that in your haste to pull on shoes before you left, or if they’ve been that way since the knock sounded on your door. You lift your gaze to the ceiling, scanning it and that’s when you notice it. The cover over the vent is slightly out of place. You likely wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been paying attention, if you hadn’t looked.

The thought sends a chill running down your spine.

You keep your eyes on the vent as you grab your desk chair, kicking clothes out of the way as you move it under the vent. You stand on the chair, reaching for the vent, but it’s not quite enough. You shove the chair to the side, taking everything off your desk before you pull it under the vent. You climb up on shaky legs, your heart thudding in your chest as you remove the vent cover.

Nausea twists at your stomach as your breath leaves you in a sharp gasp. There, strategically placed between two of the gaps in the vent cover, is a camera. It’s small, and would have been invisible just staring at the vent from below. You feel like you might be sick as you pull it free from the vent cover, staring down into the tiny lens.

How long has it been up there?

You drop the camera onto your desk, your fingers shaking and trembling as you feel along the edges of the vent, checking for anything else that might be hiding up there. You replace the cover after you find nothing, a sense of dread filling you.

Had the guys put it up so they could watch you, make sure that you’re safe? Had they put it up there before you arrived? You think about all the times you’ve changed in your room, your heat.

You climb down from the desk, tugging it further towards the center of the room before you climb back up, unscrewing the cover off the light. You check the bulb, looking for any cameras or recording devices. You screw the cover of the light back on after finding none, a quiet sob leaving your lips as you look around your room.

You close the door and lock it before you begin your search, checking every corner and piece of furniture for cameras or recording devices. You empty the dresser and closet, checking every drawer and corner for anything suspicious.

You pull recording devices from under your desk and the back of your nightstand, the adhesive still fresh enough they pop right off. A cold sweat has overtaken you as you find another recording device and another camera, adding them to the growing pile on your desk.

A quiet sob of fear leaves your lips as you check the bathroom, tearing your room apart to check every inch. You search up a tutorial on YouTube, using your phone to check for more possible cameras that you might have missed.

You stare down at the pile of cameras and recording devices on your desk. Someone entered your room and planted them while you were with General Shepherd. It had all been deliberate. Get you away from your room and distracted so they could enter and set up the devices. You wonder if it’s all part of some sick plan, some way to ensure things are going well with your pack. General Shepherd had been very interested in your mark, invading your space without a moment of hesitation to see it firsthand. You would have shown him, had he asked to see it. Instead he’d just done it himself, as if it was nothing.

Your hands are shaking as you find a ziploc bag in the mess you’ve made of your room, putting the cameras and recording devices into it. You drop it onto the floor before stepping on it, listening to the crack of metal and plastic and glass under your shoe. Tears slip down your cheeks as you pick up the bag of broken pieces, taking it to the bathroom. You hide it far in the back of the cupboard beneath the sink, piling things around it and on top of it to keep it hidden.

You stand in the doorway of the bathroom, your skin crawling as you stare at the mess. You don’t feel safe anymore, not even in your own space. The thought of someone breaching the sacred space, entering your room without a second thought to put up cameras makes your stomach churn.

Where will you go? You can’t just leave, find somewhere else to feel safe. What if they did the same to the guys’ rooms? There could have been an entire team of people that came in and put cameras up all over the barracks. A sob leaves your lips as you rush to the door, double checking it’s locked before you shove the dresser against it. You flip your desk up to cover the window as much as it can, just in case anyone tries to climb in.

You sink to the floor in the middle of the disaster that has become your room, sobbing quietly. You want your pack home, you want to feel safe again. You glance at your phone where it’s sitting on a pile of shirts, afraid to even touch it. That woman could have done anything to it while you were with General Shepherd. What if they’re trying to call you and they can’t reach you?

You should try to reach Dr. Keller, tell her what happened, get her to check if there’s anyone lurking around the barracks that shouldn’t be. What if they try to attack her, though? Can she defend herself? You don’t know if she can fight or not. What if she gets hurt because of you? She could ask someone else on base to look, but what if they were involved in it? What if it was someone already on base that had done it? The thought nearly makes you sick.

You’re scared to leave again. What if they’ve noticed you found the cameras and come back while you’re gone? What if they come back while you’re here?

The tears flow freely as you sob, too afraid to even move. You can feel it, the panic starting to bubble up again, the fear welling inside you. Your muscles begin to tense, shoulders pulling up near your ears as you try to defend yourself from this invisible threat. It’s an easy slope from fear to distress, and there’s no one to help you if you start distressing. You press your palms into your eyes, holding your breath to try and shock your body into something other than panic.

You bite back a startled scream as a knock sounds at the door, your heart rate spiking again.

“It’s just me,” Dr. Keller’s voice sounds through the door. “Ready for dinner?”

You take a deep breath, staring at the dresser blocking your door. You’ll have to move it to get out, which she’ll likely notice. You could lie, you could lie easily, but you’re not sure you could keep it up right now. She’ll notice the tears, the obvious signs of panic and distress. She’ll want to know, and you can’t trust yourself not to spill everything.

You should tell her about what had happened, but you know she’ll be disappointed. She’ll think you were stupid for leaving, for not even sending her a text. She’ll tell John when he returns, too. He should know about it, but there’s no way a high ranking General could arrive on base without them knowing, especially one that’s their commander. Maybe it had all been a test. Maybe they do know about General Shepherd and just forgot to tell you this was going to happen.

Maybe Dr. Keller even knew about it, and didn’t say anything because she thought you knew too.

“I-I’m not hungry.” You say, trying to keep your voice from shaking.

There’s a pause outside the door for a moment, a beat of silence that’s too loud.

“Is everything alright?” She finally asks.

“Y-Yeah.” You say, clearing your throat. “Just...not really hungry right now.”

It’s silent again for a beat, making you hold your breath anxiously.

“Are you sure? I can come back later, or bring you dinner.” She says.

“I’m sure.” You swallow the tears welling in your eyes again. “I’ll grab a snack if I get hungry later.”

“Okay...” She says, and you can almost see the frown on her face. “Text or call if you need anything, alright?”

“Yeah.” You say, your voice cracking a bit.

You regret it almost instantly, the urge to shove the dresser out of the way and fling the door open strong as you hear her receding steps down the hallway. You don’t want to be alone, but Dr. Keller can’t give you what you need. The tears start falling again, sliding down your cheeks as you flop onto your back, ignoring the way the edge of a book digs into your spine.

You just want your pack back. You want John to scoop you up into his arms and wrap you in his warmth and soothing scent. You want Kyle and Johnny to squish you between them, sandwich you so tightly you’re scared you might burst. You want Ghost to wrap himself around you and offer you a blanket of protection against anyone who would even dare cast a glance in your direction.

You just want to feel at home again.

You want to be safe again.

***

The emotional and physical exhaustion pushes you into the state between consciousness and sleep. You’ve moved to your bed, tucked under the covers and stuck between the wall and your giant bear, as if it could offer you some form of protection as you float between awareness and somewhere in the realm of sleep for a few hours.

You’re not sure what time it is, when the disruption comes. It takes you a moment to register why you’re awake. Some deep part of your brain is prickling, sending out warning signals to your body. Something’s happening, something’s wrong, something’s posing a threat.

You hold your breath in the silence of the barracks, listening to the slow, quiet footsteps making their way down the hall. For a moment you think you might be imagining them, that you’re still asleep and dreaming. Your fingers pinch at your skin, nails digging in to confirm that you are, in fact, awake. This is really happening.

Your heartbeat picks up, the bitter stench of fear that’s coated your room intensifying as the footsteps pause outside your door. You let out a quiet, shaky breath as you lay there, thinking up every time you checked the door in the last few hours to ensure it was locked and the dresser was still pushed in front of it.

You cover your mouth as the door handle wiggles, catching on the lock. The whimper of fear threatening to rise catches in your throat as you hold your breath, your body trembling under your blankets. You should reach for your phone, send a text to Kate, call Dr. Keller, do something. Yet, you’re frozen in fear as the handle continues to wiggle before stopping.

You don’t release a breath until the footsteps fade, a quiet whimper slipping from your lips. Someone just tried to get into your room.

You’re panicking, breaths coming in short, sharp gasps as you burrow under your covers, barricading yourself between the wall and your bear, hoping you’ll be invisible in case they come back, in case they force their way in. You can’t fight, not after the day you’ve had. The best you can hope for is that your scent is rank enough in the room it’ll deter whoever is trying to get in.

You need tomorrow to come, and fast.

***

Daylight doesn't bring any sense of comfort.

All it does is shed more light on the disaster your room has become, the physical representation of your internal thoughts and feelings. Your face feels puffy from crying, and there’s a bad taste in your mouth. You haven’t brushed your teeth since yesterday, nor have you showered, too scared to put yourself in such a vulnerable position.

You glance at your phone, checking for missed calls, but there’s none. Dr. Keller will be by soon to get you for breakfast, but you’re not sure you can stand going to the mess. The idea of leaving your room, leaving it empty so anyone could just walk in and bug it or touch your things or hide out so they can take revenge on you for finding and destroying their cameras and recording devices has you paralyzed.

That must have been what whoever entered the barracks last night had come to do. Maybe they thought you’d spend the night in one of the other rooms and they’d come to replace them. Or, maybe they wanted you to be in your room. Maybe that was the plan all along.

The thought sends a chill running down your spine.

You burrow back under your blankets, curling up against your giant teddy bear. You wish it was Price, that his arm would wrap around you and hold you close, keep you safe and protected in his arms. You’d take any of them right now, even Ghost. At least you know he’d protect you, especially if someone tried to enter the barracks without permission.

You’re still lying there when Dr. Keller arrives. You stare at the dresser still pushed against the door, keeping you from opening it. Not that you really want to. You can’t stop the anxiety from taking over, bringing forward the image of Dr. Keller held at gunpoint on the other side of the door, trying to trick you into opening it so whoever tried to get in last night can finally do what they came to do.

You know it’s a ridiculous thought. No one would be that stupid in broad daylight, and you doubt Dr. Keller would let something like that happen to her. She’d put up a fight, or at least you hope so.

You can’t move the dresser without her knowing you’d pushed it against the door, which will only prompt questions. Questions you don’t want to answer.

She calls your name through the door, concern lacing her voice. “Everything alright?”

No. You want to scream it, tears gathering in your eyes again. You want to push the dresser out of the way, throw open the door and confess everything that’s happened in the last few hours to her. You want to bring her into your space, keep her there until your pack returns so you can feel even just an ounce of safety.

But what if she gets mad?

Leaving yesterday was stupid. Going off with some unknown beta without telling anyone was the dumbest thing you’ve done since your arrival on base. She’ll be disappointed and she’ll tell your pack and they’ll be disappointed that you didn’t say anything to her about it. Even if they knew it happened, they’d still be disappointed that you didn’t think to even question it, that you didn’t think to let Dr. Keller know what was going on.

You made a stupid decision, and you won’t be able to take their disappointment and anger. Not after everything.

“Yeah.” You call out, your voice shaking. “I-I’m alright.”

You can tell she doesn’t believe you, even though you can’t see her. She probably has that look on her face she gets when she knows you’re not telling the whole truth. You take a deep breath, trying to calm the racing of your heart. You’re afraid it might give out after the stress of the last few days.

“Are you ready for breakfast?” She finally asks, likely giving up on trying to get any more details from you.

You’re not hungry, and you know going to the mess will not end well. The risk of distressing is high, and the thought that any one in the mess might have been the intruder last night nearly sends you over the edge. One wrong glance in your direction might cause you to do something reckless. “I’m not hungry.” You finally say, pulling the blankets tighter around you.

“Are you sure?” She asks. “Did you eat something last night?”

“Yeah.” You lie, trying to keep your voice from breaking. “I had some snacks.”

Her feet shuffle outside the door for a moment, and you can almost hear her sigh. “If you’re sure?”

“I-I’m sure.” You reply.

There’s a moment of silence before you get a response, your breath catching in your throat from the nerves. “Alright.” She finally says. “I got word that your pack will be landing in a couple of hours and we have permission to go out to the airfield and greet them. I’ll come back to get you when it’s time. If you need anything, call me.”

You listen to her footsteps recede down the hallway, tears burning your eyes. You hate lying. You feel bad for keeping the truth from her, but the shame of revealing what you did is too strong.

You hastily wipe your eyes, staring at the mess on your floor. You need to get your room back to at least its somewhat normal state, and you need to put yourself back to your normal state as well. If anyone gets any hint that something is wrong, you might crack, and you’re not sure you could handle the repercussions.

You start with the desk, flipping it back the way it’s supposed to be and positioning it as close to where it was as you can get. You collect the books and other little things that go on it, trying to arrange it as close to how it normally is. You know they’ll notice if any little thing is out of place, if anything looks suspicious. You can blame some of it on cleaning, if they ask. You did some deep cleaning while they were away. That’s one way of putting it.

You push the dresser back into place next, putting the drawers back in before starting on the clothes, putting everything back where it belongs. You make your bed last, the urge to nest gone completely. You’re shaking with exhaustion by the time you finish, tempted to crawl back into bed, but you know you can’t. Your pack is coming back, and you need everything to look like it’s fine still.

They’ll notice. They’ll see it, and they’ll ask, and you’ll have to spill everything and face the shame and anger from being so stupid.

Tears burn your eyes as you slip your desk chair under the door handle, making sure it’s secure before heading to the shower to get ready for your pack’s imminent return. You shower with the door open, getting done quickly to avoid being vulnerable for long. You try to make yourself look as decent as possible, ignoring the fact that there’s broken cameras and recording devices hidden under the sink. Eventually you’ll forget. Eventually it’ll fade from your mind and become nothing more than a forgotten nightmare.

One of many.

You toss your pajamas on the floor haphazardly, just to make things look more normal. You know if it’s too clean, that might raise some suspicions as well. You don’t want to give away that something happened, you don’t want to raise any suspicions. You just want things to go back to normal. You want your pack back, and you want to feel safe again.

At least, until they have to leave again.

You sink to the floor, leaning up against your bed as you wait for Dr. Keller to take you to greet your pack when they return.

***

Every minute seems to drag on infinitely as you stare across the tarmac. They’ll be landing any minute. Any minute now the nightmare will be over and you’ll get to see your pack again after days of being apart. Finally, maybe, you can begin to feel safe again.

You watch the plane as it comes in to land, your hands already trembling in anticipation. There’s a twisting in your stomach, you’re not sure if it’s worry or fear or excitement. They’re so close, so close you can almost smell them. Your omega is scratching at the back of your brain, your muscles twitching as the ramp begins to lower on the plane. You need to see them, you need to smell them, you need to ensure they’re alright.

You can’t stop yourself. As soon as their boots hit the tarmac, you’re running. You don’t care if you’re breaking rules, you don’t care if the other soldiers get worried, or see you as a possible threat, you need to be in your alpha’s arms again.

John grunts from the force of you hitting him, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You throw your arms around him, clinging to him as tight as you can. You’re whimpering, the quiet sounds dragging from your lips but you don’t care. You press your face into his chest, breathing him in. He smells like sweat and musk, the sharp metallic tang of gunpowder burning your nose. Yet, underneath it all, you can make out the earthy scent, the petrichor going straight to your brain.

His arms wrap tight around you, squishing you up against his chest. His vest digs into your skin, but you don’t care. You can’t feel much of anything but relief. His breath fans your forehead as he leans down, his hand cupping the back of your head. He shushes you gently, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Tears fill your eyes as you cling to him, fingers gripping his shirt tightly like you’re afraid he might disappear again. If it wasn’t for the pain in your chest, you might have thought this was all a dream, that they might disappear suddenly and you’ll wake up alone again.

“Easy.” John rumbles, gently stroking the back of your head.

You cling to him tighter as his hand gets close to your neck, the thought of General Shepherd’s hand being so close to your neck where he could scruff you so easily making your insides squirm.

He’s gone. He’s gone and your pack is here.

“You’re alright.” John tries to reassure you, squeezing his arms around your trembling form. “I’ve got you.”

You keep your face pressed against his chest, breathing him in, trying to get his scent to calm the raging storm within you. Your omega is still scratching at the back of your mind, a deep need to claw your way under John’s skin and into his body pushing at the front of your mind. You won’t be safe until you’ve been utterly consumed by him, until you’re safely tucked where no one can hurt you without going through him first.

“Alpha,” You whine quietly, nuzzling your face against his chest. His clothes are in the way, a barrier against what you need. To feel him, to smell him fully again.

“Easy.” He says, grabbing your hands as they shift towards the velcro straps of his tactical vest. “Let’s get back to the barracks first before we start that, sweetheart.”

You don’t want to go back to the barracks. It’s not safe anymore. What if there’s someone waiting there for you to return? What if they get hurt because you don’t tell them what happened? What if you get hurt and cause them pain?

“You’re alright.” John says, stroking the back of your head as he begins to ease your grip on him. “There’s a couple of muppets here who I think would like to greet you too.”

Right. You’re so caught up in your alpha, you forgot the rest of your pack. You slowly allow yourself to be peeled away from John, Kyle right there to let you cling to him.

And so you do.

Your grip around him is just as tight, ignoring the uncomfortable ridges of his own vest. He holds you just as tightly, projecting his scent just a bit to try and calm you. Someone presses against your back, arms wrapping around both you and Kyle. The scent of citrus lined with beta invades your nose, Johnny squishing you into a sandwich between them. Your eyes squeeze shut as citrus and salty sea air blend together, the beta’s scents reaching deep into your brain to try and ease some of the tension in your body.

They’re back. They’re safe. You’re safe.

Now you just have to convince yourself of that fact.

***

“How was she?” John asks as he approaches Dr. Keller.

“Held it together longer than I thought she would.” She says. “Things took a turn yesterday afternoon. Shut herself in her room and wouldn’t come out. I don’t think she’s eaten anything since lunch yesterday either.”

“We’ll get some food in her.” John says. “Thank you, for looking after her for us.”

“Well, it is partly my job.” Dr. Keller shrugs. “Always happy to do it.”

“Things will get easier, won’t they?” He asks.

“Eventually. She’ll learn what coping mechanisms help and she’ll adapt.”

“Hopefully at least one of us will be able to stay moving forward. I don’t like leaving her here alone.” He grimaces.

“Separation is hard no matter what, especially with limited contact, on all parties involved.” She gives him a look. “I think the best thing you can do right now is just be together as a pack. Let those bonds heal and let her do what she needs.”

“Thank you, doctor.” John says, shaking her hand.

“Call me, if you need anything, as usual.” Dr. Keller says, watching his retreating back before getting into her car to make the short drive back to the medical center.

John gets into the car waiting to take them back to the barracks, sitting next to Kyle who’s holding you straddling his lap, your face pressed into his neck. “That looks safe.” He remarks, even though they wouldn’t be going very fast, or very far.

“Couldn’t get her to let go.” Kyle says, tightening his hold around you as the car begins moving.

“You’re alright, sweetheart.” John says, rubbing your back gently.

You turn your face to look at him, your eyes red from the numerous tears you’ve already shed, and the ones still trailing down your face. The guilt nearly makes him sick as he stares at you, feeling the slight tremble still from where his hand rests against your back.

He’d never say it out loud, but he hates the fact they had to leave you, all four of them at once too. He’d fought, argued. He and Simon could have handled it on their own, even him and the two Sergeants would have been sufficient. Anything not to leave you by yourself during their first deployment.

Despite his attempts, General Shepherd had been insistent that all four of them were necessary for this particular task.

So, he had been forced to leave you behind on your own. It’s gone about as well as he expected, from the looks of it. He knew the separation would get to you eventually. The stress would grow to be too much. Every day he anticipated the news to come from Kate that you had distressed and your omega had taken over because he wasn’t there to help you.

Every day he waited for the news that they’d lost you because the brass that put this initiative into place couldn’t understand why taking them all at once was a bad idea.

Or maybe that was their plan all along.

He couldn’t stop the conspiratorial thoughts running through his head as their mission dragged on. What if they were doing this on purpose? It wouldn’t be that strange to push the boundaries of what could be tolerated for the purpose of testing just how effective the initiative really could be. But pushing it like that so soon? Sure, he could rationalize it was possible. War could break out at any moment, which would require most military members to leave, to be separated from their packs for months or even years. His own team could be called out at any time for months working to eliminate a target and stop war from breaking out.

Yet, he can’t help but feel there was something more, something deeper going on. What if they had called away for more nefarious reasons? What if getting you alone had been the reason behind General Shepherd’s insistence that all four of them were necessary for this particular task? He had refused to entertain those dark thoughts for too long, the fear of leaving you alone already itching in the back of his mind from the moment they boarded the plane to leave.

He hadn’t been able to hide his relief at hearing your voice on the phone. Though you had sounded upset, and rightfully so, his worries had been lessened in knowing you were alright. You would tell them if something had happened. He knows you wouldn’t keep something that serious a secret. If someone had hurt you, or had tried to hurt you, you would tell one of them.

Even though he trusts you, he does plan to speak to Dr. Keller more in depth later to ensure everything went as fine as she seemed to imply it did. Obviously their absence has been hard on you, but he needs to make sure you really will be alright, that you will be able to come back from the obvious distress this has caused you.

***

You finally release your constricting hold on Kyle as the car pulls up outside the barracks. Even with them back, it still doesn't feel like home anymore, not after such sacred space was invaded so easily, so nonchalantly. Kyle climbs out of the car, setting you on your feet on the ground. You look between him and John, realizing Ghost and Johnny are still in the car. Your stomach falls as you realize what they're about to say, tears gathering in your eyes again.

“We still have some things we need to do.” John says, reaching towards you.

You have the momentary urge to flinch from his touch, but you let his hand cup your cheek. “You're leaving me again.” You say, your voice breaking.

John almost looks guilty. He almost looks upset by your visible turmoil. His hand drops from your cheek to your back, turning you towards the barracks. Your stomach twists as he guides you inside, the fear of someone being inside spiking. You know you're safe with John, that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you, but you'd have to play dumb if they did catch someone inside. You’d have to act like you didn’t know someone had entered before, like you had been unaware of anything going on. That might almost be worse than telling them the truth.

You inhale as he stops in front of your door, still closed from when you'd left with Dr. Keller. There's no chemical burn of scent blockers, just your scent in the air, and John's scent coming off him as he stands next to you.

“We won't be long. Maybe an hour at most, and we'll only be across base. We'll come back and we can get lunch before our afternoon meeting. Then we'll just have reports to do, and you can sit in my office while I work on those, okay?” He says.

Your brows pinch as you try to hold in your tears. You want to tell him, you want to reveal what happened, beg him not to leave you alone here again, but you can't. You can't face that shame, the disappointment you know he'll show on his face at the knowledge that you let that happen. You willingly left with a stranger without telling anyone. You let someone invade your pack's space so easily. They were gone for a week and you screwed everything up.

“Tomorrow we'll spend the day together. All of us. I promise.” He says wiping the tear that slides down your cheek.

Even though they're back, you still don't have them.

You inhale shakily before nodding. “Yeah. Fine.”

John's thumb brushes your cheek for a moment before he leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You watch his back retreat as he leaves the barracks, leaving you alone again. You think back to when they’d left you, watching his back as he boarded the plane to be taken from you. You stare at the door as the cars drive off, a cold chill running down your spine. What if General Shepherd is still here? What if they're going to meet with him? What if he tells them he met with you while they were gone and they had no idea?

Maybe you should have been honest with them from the start.

You stare at your closed door, your hands shaking. What if there's someone inside? What if someone is waiting to take their revenge for you destroying the cameras. What if they put new ones up?

You should have opened the door while Price was here so you could have at least screamed when someone would hear you. You back away from your door slowly, deciding to wait in the rec room. At least there you might have a chance. You could break a window and run, or at least have a higher chance of making it to a door.

Would anyone help you? Would anyone come if you screamed? What if they’re all in on it?

You're shaking as you sink onto the couch, sitting so you can see into the hallway. You want to see them coming so you can prepare yourself, or at least give yourself a chance to make an escape before it’s too late.

You run through all the things Ghost has taught you in your head as you sit and wait, the minutes dragging by painfully slow. You can feel every second, though that may just be the anxiety and fear pulsing within you. You wish you could sleep, you wish you could relax, you wish you could do anything to make the time go by faster, but yet you remain hypervigilant, staring so hard you flinch at every little shadow your brain convinces you is moving.

You’re not sure how long you sit there, tense and coiled, ready to spring at a moment’s notice. It can’t be more than an hour as John promised, yet it feels like a lifetime before you hear movement.

You hold your breath as the barracks door opens, boots thudding with every footstep coming down the hall. You nearly whimper when a figure rounds the corner, before you let out a sigh of relief.

“Ready for lunch, kitten?” Johnny asks, standing in the doorway of the rec room.

You swallow the lump in your throat, your hands still clenched into fists. You're breathing hard, your entire body tense. You know you're reaching dangerous territory. Any more panic, you may start distressing. What a welcome home for them, coming back to a distressed omega. They're probably exhausted, and here you are making a scene.

Hands close around yours. Warm, calloused hands apply gentle pressure, slowly uncurling your fingers. Your hands are shaking, trembling just slightly.

“Ye alright, kitten?” Johnny asks, kneeling in front of you. When he moved, you're not sure.

“I-I'm not...” You start, your voice shaking.

“Ye need tae eat.” He counters, as if he had read your mind, expected the answer.

He's right. You're beginning to feel it gnawing in your stomach, something deeper than the anxiety. With all the stressing you've been doing, you know you need to eat something. Being hungry is not helping that any, either.

“I don't want to go to the mess.” You say quickly, the words almost mushing together incoherently. “Too much.”

Johnny sits back, staring at you for a moment before nodding in understanding. “Alright. That's fair. I'll let the lads know.”

He stands up, leaving you alone in the rec room again. You listen to his footsteps fade, the door opening and closing for a moment. You hold your breath, practically on the edge of your seat. There's no reason they would make you go to the mess. You've eaten in the barracks many times before.

You blame your worry on your hunger. You know omegas don't do well when hungry. Omegas don't do well being uncomfortable in general.

Saying these last few days have been uncomfortable for you is a bit of an oversimplification.

Footsteps echo down the hallway, a familiar hulking figure approaching the rec room. You never thought there would come a time when you would feel relief upon seeing Ghost. Yet here you are, the tension easing from your shoulders as he steps into the rec room.

“They're grabbing us food.” He says, moving to sit in his usual spot in the chair facing the door. He sighs as he sinks into the cushions, and you can only imagine how tired he must be.

And here you are making things worse.

“You're stressed.” He says, staring at you. His eyes are still painted black beneath his mask, adding to the eerie vibe coming off of him. You're beginning to understand why they call him Ghost. “Stinking up the barracks.” He says, pulling out his phone.

“Oh.” You say quietly, sinking in on yourself as you sit there. “Sorry.”

You pick nervously at your sweatshirt as you wait for the others to return, letting out a quiet sigh of relief as they enter the rec room, food in hand.

Johnny sits you on his lap as you eat, making sure you get your fill, likely aware that you haven't eaten yet today thanks to Dr. Keller telling on you. It's quiet in the room as everyone eats, even the TV off. They all look tired and tense, and you can only imagine what happened during their time away. The things they did, the things they saw. You wonder how much blood is on their hands now, hands that have touched you, hands that are holding you.

They can just go off and kill people and come back and act like nothing has happened.

You could almost laugh at how psychotic it all sounds.

This is your life now. This is your new normal.

“We have a quick meeting. Shouldn't take too long.” John says as they stand, Johnny placing you gently on your feet.

You tug at your sweatshirt, avoiding his gaze. They're leaving you again. They won't be far this time, but still. You just want to curl up in bed with them and lay there until you feel safe again.

Tomorrow, John had said. Tomorrow they will be yours.

It might have been easier if you hadn't been told they were coming home until tomorrow.

***

You tense under the blanket as the door closes, quiet footsteps approaching your position on the couch. There's a quiet sigh as a figure drops to a knee in front of you, their figure visible as a shadow beneath the blanket.

“Can you breathe under there?”

You slowly lower the blanket just enough to peek over the top of it. John is kneeling next to the couch, his brows furrowed in a frown. You're in his office, having shut yourself in there while they went into the meeting. John had made you swear not to go snooping as he’d let you inside. You had promised, as you still feel no desire to dig through the likely classified files that were locked in the cabinets and on his computer. Instead you had parked yourself on his couch, burrowing under a blanket that smelled faintly of petrichor and tobacco smoke.

“There she is.” He says as you peek above the blanket, gently running a hand over the top of your head. “How are you holding up, sweetheart?”

“You left me.” You say quietly, trying not to burst into tears and confess everything.

“I know.” He says, wiping the tear that slides down your cheek. “But we came back, just like we promised.”

He is right in that regard, yet you can’t help the tears as they slide down your cheeks. The ache in your chest that had started to build over the last few days is still present despite their return. Everything is wrong. They feel too far away, too distant. Nothing is safe anymore, nothing is sacred, and they’re just acting like everything is back to normal.

“Would you like to kneel for me?” He asks, his thumb stroking your cheek.

You’re tempted to say no. For the first time you feel wary of your alpha. What kinds of things would you admit in your dazed state? If he questioned you, would you give him enough to put together that something had happened and you’ve been trying to hide it from him? Maybe it would help, though. It would at least ease some of the tension that’s built up. Maybe it could pull you back from the edge of distress you’ve been dangling over for almost two days. Maybe he’ll accidentally scruff you and you can forget the whole thing happened.

The dark thought sends a chill down your spine.

“Okay.” You say, pushing yourself up to sit.

John offers you a hand, helping you up off the couch. You don't want to let go of his hand, you don't want to be parted from him. The omega in the back of your mind is screaming at you to get close to him and stay there for the rest of time. If he leaves you again...you're not sure you can handle it.

He settles in his desk chair, getting everything he needs ready. He'll work on his reports while you kneel, a familiar position, a familiar situation. You've done this before several times. You're not sure why you're suddenly nervous.

You set the pillow down, dropping to your knees beside him. The chair creaks as he shifts slightly, his hand coming to rest on the back of your head. You fight the urge to flinch, to move away as he gently strokes his hand over your hair. You've done this before, he's done this before. You're not sure why your heart is thudding in your chest.

His hand slowly moves lower, slipping closer and closer to your neck. You can't help it as your shoulders come up, preventing him from gripping the back of your neck. He moves his hand away as you get defensive, his chair turning slightly as he leans down.

“It's alright, sweetheart. It's just me.” He soothes you, his hand returning to the top of your head. “I know it's been a while, but I promise I remember what to do.”

“Sorry, sorry.” You gasp out, trying to relax. “I don't...I don't know...”

You do know. Your brain keeps flashing back to General Shepherd, his hand tugging down your collar, so close to your neck. How easily he could have scruffed you, if he'd wanted to. You would have known if he had, but he could have done anything to you during the time he had control.

“You're stressed, all worked up.” John says, still stroking the top of your head, trying to soothe you. “It's been a long week for all of us. It was a risk, sending all four of us at once. A stupid risk that shouldn't have been taken.”

You're pulled from your emotional state at the slight hint of anger in his voice. It hadn't taken you long to figure out they likely were all sent in order to get you alone. It would have been impossible to get you out of the barracks and put cameras up with even one of them here. Did he know about Shepherd's visit? Had he put two and two together and figured out they sent all four of them on purpose? You figured he'd be angrier if he knew about what you did, about what they did to you. He would be blazing a path straight to General Shepherd if your alpha knew he got so close to you, put you in that kind of situation.

At least, you hope he would. There’s still that fear in the back of your mind, that worry that it was all a test and you’ve failed. Would they send you back to the institute? Would they break the bonds and send you to a different pack? Would they send you out on your own, leaving you to fend for yourself until some other alpha crossed your path and decided you were worth it? Does he know you’re lying to him, hiding the truth of what happened while he was away? Is he waiting for you to confess, biding his time to see how long you try to hide it?

You want to tell him. You really do, but you can't bring yourself to get the words out. You can't bring yourself to confess here on your knees before your alpha. You feel guilty, like a sinner, yet the shame keeps the words trapped inside.

He continues to soothe you, sliding his hand further down until he reaches your neck. You force yourself to relax, knowing you need this. You need your alpha to take control. You need him to ease the heavy weight on your shoulders, even if he doesn't know what he's lifting.

You close your eyes as his fingers press into your neck, your brain quieting to a hum as you begin to slip into the back of your mind. You feel the rush of endorphins as your brain begins to calm itself, quieting the storm that's been raging for almost a week. You begin to go numb, relaxing into John's hold as he eases you into a quiet, meditative state. He begins to work on his reports as he holds you, your mind floating off somewhere else, somewhere safer where no one can break in and hurt you, somewhere where the barracks are still secure and safe and your pack never left.

Somewhere where there's no initiative, and your pack picked you because they wanted you, because you were a good omega who did as she was told and didn't make stupid mistakes that put everyone in danger.

The last of the tension leaves your body, your mind distant from the present moment. You're safe with your alpha. He'd never let anything happen to you. None of your pack would let anything happen to you.

The thought continues to repeat in your head like a mantra as you relax, held up by the strong pillar that is your alpha.

***

“Report's done, Captain.” Kyle says, placing the stack of papers on John's desk.

“Thanks.” John sighs, grabbing them.

Kyle turns to look at you, fast asleep on the couch. “You want me to take her?” He asks, the formality easing between them as they settle into being a pack and not a task force on duty anymore.

John stares at you, curled up on his lumpy old couch. It’s getting late, or at least it feels that way. You’ve been out, sleeping peacefully on his couch since he eased you out of your kneeling position. You’d clung to him tightly, and for a moment he’d considered holding you, letting you sit with him as you dozed, but he knows he can’t risk you seeing something you shouldn’t. So he’d eased you onto the couch, having to peel your hands away from his shirt. He’d nearly given up and let you keep hold of his shirt before you finally relaxed and released him.

“Would probably be more comfortable.” He rubs his eyes, feeling the call of sleep himself. He wonders how much you managed to sleep while they were gone. You look tired, though you’ve been looking tired since your heat ended. He needs to rest himself, but he wants to get these reports done so he can keep his promise for tomorrow. “I'll be in there soon.”

“Don't work too hard.” Kyle says, moving to lift you off the couch.

“No promises.”

Kyle shakes his head before scooping you up off the couch, blanket and all. You’re still sound asleep as he carries you, pausing in the hallway for a moment. He had just been instinctually going to his room, but would you be more comfortable in your own room? You probably have spent the last week shut inside your space. It might be nice to spend some time somewhere else.

He takes you into his room, laying you on the bed, making sure you’re comfortable. He needs to shower and throw his clothes in the wash, but he doesn’t want to leave you and risk you waking up without someone there. You’re sleeping deeply, though, not even stirring as he tucks the blanket up higher around you. He doesn't want to crawl into bed smelling like gunpowder and sweat. That might throw you off too.

He takes the risk, knowing he can do both tasks quickly. No more than twenty minutes to get himself clean and his dirty clothes in the wash, as he prays you stay asleep and won't start panicking if you wake in a strange place. He had sensed how close you had been to distress, how tense you had been when he held you in the car. It’s been a hard week for you, even harder than it had been for them.

He breathes out a quiet sigh of relief as he finds you still asleep when he returns to his room. You haven't moved at all, still tucked under the blanket from John's office. He gets himself changed and moisturized, rubbing some cream on the bruises that dot his skin. He's going to be sore tomorrow, they all will be, but he knows they won't be doing much. John had already told them tomorrow will be dedicated to spending time with you and helping you recover from the stress of them being gone. He’s silently glad for the break, knowing it could only be a few days before they get called out again.

John had also told him he’d be pushing harder for one of them to stay whenever he can. He’s not taking this risk again, not if it can be avoided.

Kyle’s pulling on his sweatpants when you inhale sharply. You're sitting up straight on his bed, eyes wide as you look around in fear. They’re hazy, confusion settling into your mind after going from John’s office to Kyle’s room after kneeling.

“Hey, hey. It's alright.” Kyle says, moving over to the bed, taking a seat on the edge so he’s in your line of sight. “You're just in my room.”

“Kyle?” You whisper, clarity returning to your gaze as you stare at him.

“I'm here.” He says. “Just went to take a shower and clean up.”

“Where's John?” You ask, tears gathering in your eyes.

“Still working on things.” He says, cupping your face. “He'll be in eventually.”

The tears fall from your eyes, sliding down your cheeks. They wet his thumbs as he strokes your skin, your body trembling slightly as you sniffle.

Something’s wrong. He's known it since you latched onto him on the tarmac. The way you'd held onto him like he might disappear, how you looked almost angry when John told you they still had things to do, the way your scent had filled the barracks, bitter with fear and stress.

Something’s up, something you're not letting them in on. But, to be fair, they had just left you for a week, up and abandoned you to go play heroes. He wouldn't blame you for not telling them anything. The bonds have weakened. He can feel it, beyond just his natural beta senses.

“What can I do?” He asks quietly, trying to project his scent a bit to help calm you. He doesn't want you distressing, not after holding it together for so long.

“I...I need...” You inhale shakily, still trembling in his hold. “I don't know.” You whine, the tears falling faster now.

He pulls you against his chest, holding you as you cry. He feels the tugging in his chest, sympathy for you and what you must be feeling, along with the guilt of knowing they caused this. They did this just with their absence.

An idea begins to form in his mind as he holds you, something his family used to do when he was younger.

He pulls away from you, standing up. “Come on. I have an idea.”

He strips the blankets from his bed before pulling the mattress off the frame. He drags it to the door and out into the hallway before heading down to John's room. You follow behind him, watching him as he opens the door to John’s room, dragging the mattress in and dropping it on the floor.

“Stay here.” He tells you, heading back out into the hallway.

“What're ye doin’?” Johnny asks, sticking his head out of his door.

“Grab your mattress and Simon and meet me in Price's room.” Kyle says as he heads down the hallway, ignoring Johnny's further questioning as he makes for John’s office.

He doesn't bother knocking, walking right in. John blinks at him from behind the desk, and for a moment Kyle wonders if he'd fallen asleep sitting up. It wouldn't be the first time.

“Come on.” Kyle says, moving to stand in front of his desk. “Finish those tomorrow.”

“They're important, I have to get them done asap.” John counters.

“Yeah, well I have something more important.” He leans forward at John's questioning stare. “Your omega needs you.”

John stares at his beta for a moment, and Kyle can see the gears turning in his head, the debate happening, the conflict in his mind. He so rarely sees his alpha, his captain so indecisive for so long. He's usually so quick to act, analyzing a situation and making a decision in mere seconds.

If only you knew the things you've done by simply existing in their lives.

John closes the file on his desk, slipping it into the drawer before locking it. Kyle fights the triumphant grin threatening to form on his face as John stands from his chair after shutting his computer off. Kyle makes his way back down the hallway, John following behind after locking his office door. Kyle stops at his room, grabbing his comforter before heading for John’s room.

Johnny had obviously gotten the idea of what Kyle had in mind, his mattress and John's laid out side by side so the three make one giant bed for them on the floor. He’s already laid out his own comforter and Simon’s, as well as John’s on the mattresses. They probably wouldn’t need blankets for long with their body heat, but the blend of scents will hopefully begin to ease the tempest raging in your mind.

You’ve parked yourself in the corner, watching it all happen. You seem so small, so lost, so out of place. It's not all that different from when you'd arrived in their lives. Has being gone for a week really reverted things so drastically for you? Has your stress broken the bonds so much that you feel like a stranger amongst them again?

Kyle steps over the mattresses, approaching you slowly. You look up from where you had been staring off into space, blinking up at him. Your eyes are still red and watery from crying, your arms clutching one of your stuffed bears against your chest. It’s the one John had scented for you, back when they were trying to get you to nest. He wonders if you’ve nested since they left, if that urge is still there, or if that too has faded.

Kyle doesn’t often feel angry at his job. Not anymore. He doesn’t often question it. It’s what he signed up for, and he does it because someone has to. He chose this life, so he does his best to be a good soldier, to follow orders. Yet, as he stares down at you, he can’t help but feel anger bristling in the back of his mind. He tries to blame it on his instincts, on the fact that a member of his pack is so upset, so distressed at something that’s happened, and he doesn't know what to do to help.

Yet he knows they were the cause of it, even if it wasn’t their choice directly. Something happened because of them. He tries to rationalize it. This is an experiment, a test to see how well packs will do with omegas, if it has any effect on how well they can do their jobs, if it makes them stronger, or if it weakens them. Those in charge had obviously put little regard in for how it would affect the omegas. They couldn’t have known how you would react, how badly all of them leaving would affect you. Or maybe they did know, and they simply didn’t care.. Perhaps you weren’t the focus of their study, but you were still a variable, you were still an important piece of this puzzle.

How can they be more effective if their omega is struggling because of their absence? How can they be expected to function like a team now knowing leaving behind their omega will only cause distress for all of them?

Kyle takes a deep breath, pushing back the anger and the emotions whirling in his own mind. He needs to focus on you right now, focus on helping you relax, helping you get back to where you were before they left you. He’s doing the best he can do right now for you, giving you what you need, even if you don’t realize it’s what you need yet.

He holds out his hand to you, staying still as you stare at it. It takes you a moment before you slowly begin to move, slipping one of your hands into his. He guides you to the mattress in the middle, Johnny’s mattress, easing you down to sit on it. You glance around as Johnny and John toss pillows onto the mattresses haphazardly, making sure everything is perfect. It’s not a pretty nest, he’d hardly call it a nest at all, but he knows nesting is not necessarily all about looks. It’s about feeling, and right now, he knows you need to feel safe and secure.

John quickly changes into more comfortable clothes as Kyle stretches out on the mattress, opening his arms to you. You curl up against his side, resting your cheek against his chest. You press your face into his skin, inhaling for a moment before you settle, slowly beginning to relax in his hold.

Simon enters the room as John settles on Kyle’s other side, closing the door behind him and locking it, securing the five of you inside. Johnny settles on the other side of you, pressing up close against your back. He pulls one of the comforters up around the three of you before he tosses an arm around you, resting his hand on Kyle’s stomach, sandwiching you between the two betas again.

Simon stands over the makeshift nest, staring down at the four of you. He’s obviously the most uncomfortable with the situation, and still a bit miffed from your lack of greeting on the tarmac. It was his own fault for being so closed off with you for so long. You had instinctively sought out the members of the pack you felt the most connected to, the most comfortable with in your time of such great stress.

“Aw come on, ye big bastard, get in the bed.” Soap says, snapping Simon out of his reverie.

Simon shuts the light off, bathing them in near darkness. You tense for a moment as the lights go off before you slowly relax again. Kyle listens to your breaths even out as Simon gets comfortable on the mattress behind Johnny, the four of them settling in around you.

It's already warm in the room but none of them would even think of complaining. They’re too focused on surrounding you with their scent and their protection, the very thing you need the most.

Taglist:

@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx

@protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @thatonepupkai

@redwites @kattiieee @141trash @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg

@beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff

@smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60

@evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @linaangel @codsunshine

@thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows

@ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10 @cassiecasluciluce

@darling006 @sheep-from-rad @ohgodthebogisback @willow-sages @scythemood

@daniblogs164 @mirzamsaiph

#call of duty #call of duty fic #task force 141 x reader #poly task force 141 #john price x reader #captain price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #x reader #alpha/beta/omega #a/b/o #omegaverse

2K notes · View notes

wtfsteveharrington · 1 month

Text

don’t you want me | boyfriend!steve x reader x eddie

content & context: you and steve are tasked with checking in on eddie while he’s hiding out at reefer rick’s.

mentions of drugs & all parties smoke, virgin!eddie, eddie gets caught masturbating by reader and steve, oral (all receiving and giving), steve accidentally initiates oral with eddie (makes sense i promise), fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex, steve!breeding kink, cum play, cum swapping. everyone’s a lil fruity! reader is kinda just passed around!! **emphasizing that there are sexual interactions between steve and eddie!**

she/her pronouns used for reader!

author’s note: ... i can't believe this is finally getting posted but here we are! its been ages in the making and i'm so glad to finally have it out there. if i missed something during editing pls let me know! <3

word count: 8.4k - i added plot to this one!

If you thought Steve complained about being the babysitter, you should hear the way he complains about being Eddie’s caretaker.

In all honesty, he still wasn’t quite sure that Eddie was completely innocent in all this mess. Was he a killer? Probably not. That doesn’t mean he wants to hang around the guy, let alone have you hang around him.

He’s protective, that’s all.

The grocery sacks hit the floor of the kitchen while Steve shoves the case of beer into an empty spot on the counter. He’s pensively looking around the house, a grimace on his features as he takes in your... Questionable surroundings. Empty cans of food, question sticky spots on the floor, a disgusting bong on the table sat next to McDonalds wrappers.

“Now how the hell did Munson get his hands on a Big Mac but we’re still stuck doing supply drops?” Steve’s scoffing to himself, finally looking around the room to realize - “Wait a minute. Where the hell is he?”

It’s instinct. Within seconds of acknowledging that there might be a problem here, you’re back to back with Steve while the two of you scan the room. Looking for any signs of life or, well, death. You both hone in on a sound coming from behind the door at the end of the hallway. Exchanging a quick glance before he’s looking for a weapon - Grabbing a hold of the bong to use as a weapon. You however? Decide to settle for one of the knifes on the table which Steve thinks makes much more sense but he’s already committed to this damn bong now.

The door’s barely cracked open and as the two of you get closer you can begin to hear Heaven’s On Fire by KISS playing faintly on the radio. Considering how tense Eddie’s been lately, you’re surprised he’s being this... Sloppy?

you drive me crazy when you start to tease

You’re peeking over Steve’s shoulder, hand instantly coming to clamp over your mouth at the sight in front of you two.

you could bring the devil to his knees

Eddie Munson’s laying back on the bed, boots planted firmly on the ground, his jeans and briefs shimmied just far enough down his thighs to free his length. He’s hard, untouched, and you’re salivating at the sight. You and Steve stand there for a second longer than you should, both of you shocked at the sight. It’s not until Eddie wraps his fist around himself, lifting his hips off the bed at his own touch and letting out a quiet moan that Steve finally breaks -

“Holy shit.”

No one knows who reacts first but within seconds Eddie’s trying to cover himself up at the same time you’re reaching past Steve to pull the bedroom door closed. You’re trying to process what you just saw, mind only able to hyper focus on the fact that he looked... No, stop. You can’t let your mind wonder like this.

“Jesus Christ! Don’t you people knock!” Eddie shrieks on the other side.

You look over at your flabbergasted boyfriend who’s punching the air and cursing Dustin Henderson for getting involved with this Freak. If you look close enough, you can see the flush to his cheeks. “C’mon, Man. Maybe consider not jacking off while you’re on the run for murder, huh? Especially when you have people running around getting you shitty Pabst and Doritos!”

The door’s being jerked open and Eddie looks so frazzled. A far cry from the man who was just sprawled out in bed touching himself.

He has a finger pointed in Steve’s face, “A murder I did not commit! So excuse me for trying to blow off some steam while I thought I was alone. If you’re so concerned then I’ll be sure to clear it with you next time, Harrington.” His hair is a crazy mess, shirt haphazardly tucked into his pants, and his belt unbuckled. You can’t help but spare a thought towards how pretty he looks. If Eddie would meet your eye, you’d have to look away considering just how embarrassing your thoughts were getting about him. But, in fact, the boy refuses to glance in your direction.

You turn on your heels, dragging Steve behind you in an attempt to avoid them getting into even more of a fight. Storing the fact that Eddie Munson has a pretty dick away for later. “C’mon, Idiots. I’ll cook dinner if you two can play nice for a few hours. Eddie wash your hands and zip up your fly before you come in here.”

The song continues as you walk down the hallway. Giggling to yourself and sneaking looks over at your still flabbergasted boyfriend.

feel my heat takin' you higher.

burn with me, heaven's on fire.

paint the sky with desire.

✧･ﾟ:*-*:･ﾟ✧

Eddie watches as you two navigate cleaning up the kitchen in almost perfect sync. His hand on your lower back when he brings the rest of the dishes to you, the way he takes notice of your sleeve falling down your arm and rolls it up for you, then you have the audacity to sing along to Steve’s favorite lyrics as the songs shuffle through on the radio.

He’s taken to sitting on the couch during clean up, citing his “impending doom” as the reason why he can’t help. Really, Eddie’s not sure how much more of the love birds act he can take before his carefully curated facade finally breaks. It wasn’t that you two were being over the top with the displays of affection, quite the opposite actually. If anything, it was toned down from the normal levels you showed around everyone else.

It’s just the fact that it’s real that’s driving him crazy. Cursing every day he spent without someone who loved him that deeply.

Once the kitchen is cleaner than it likely has ever been, you and Steve wonder out of the room and finally join Eddie. Steve’s grabbing the packed bowl left on the coffee table along with the lighter, sitting back in the recliner while you perch yourself on the arm of the chair. Trying to balance yourself carefully. You watch as Steve takes a long hit, holding the smoke before holding the bowl towards you. Glancing from him to the slouched figure on the couch, “Can we spend the night with you?”

Eddie’s shrugging, grumbling out “’Ight with me but there’s not many blankets around this place that ain’t filled with holes.”

Nodding, more towards yourself than him, you lean forward to trap the piece between your lips and Steve brings the lighter up to the bowl.

You’re coughing.

Like, way more than normal.

Steve’s quickly pushing out of the chair, grabbing one of the last wine coolers for you and popping it’s top with ease before bringing it back to you. There’s a reassuring hand rubbing over your back as you work your way through your coughing fit. Cheeks burning hot with embarrassment that one little hit nearly took you out in front of Eddie Munson.

“S’good shit, Honey. No surprise you can barely take it.” You’re giving Steve an appreciative smile as Eddie teases you, leaning into his touch for a bit of comfort. “Should be this good considering it’s been the talk of Hawkin’s that you’re raising your prices on us, Munson.”

Eddie’s got his hands up in the air, his bright laughter filling up the room before he’s reaching out for the bowl Steve’s offering. “Hey, a man had to eat, y’know? Now a man’s gotta pay bail... Prices are gonna triple after this.”

When Steve’s assured you’re not going to pass out, he’s going back to the table and grabbing two cans of out the lukewarm Pabst case. One’s being slid over to Eddie while Steve grabs his keys out of his pocket to begin the base of the can to chug.

It’s some weird power play you’re pretty sure. Asserting dominance with who can chug the fastest. Eddie’s quick to follow suit, using his pocket knife to carve out his own hole..

Now you just need to figure out why it’s kind of.. Hot?

You watch as Steve and Eddie cheers their punctured cans against one another, both of them giving the other a small nod then they’re throwing their heads back, popping the tab, and chugging the beer out of the can. It’s entertaining, this dumb grin plastered on your face. The weed in your system is probably making this feel like a much more endearing sight than it actually is. They both drop the cans once they finish, an argument ensuing as they try to decide who finished first.

“I’ve never shotgunned a beer.”

Suddenly there’s a lot of attention on you. Steve’s confused, Eddie’s entertained.

“King Steve Harrington’s girlfriend has never chugged a beer? Surprised he hasn’t corrupted you already.” Steve’s hitting his arm, giving the other boy a playful shove before grabbing a can out of the case and tossing it your way.

“You wanna learn, Honey? I’ll teach you.” Spoken so sweetly. Steve’s voice always laced with this delicate tone reserved just for you.

He’s standing behind you now, chest firm against your back and holding the can properly in your hands. Steve’s digging a hole with his keys into the side of your can, his chin on your shoulder as he concentrates on making it a clean cut. “All you gotta do is tilt your head back, okay? I’ll pop the tab. Don’t feel like you gotta finish it.”

You nod obediently, freeing one of your fingers from it’s death grip on the can to flip Eddie off. He’s laughing, grabbing the forgotten bowl from the table and getting to work repacking it. Part of you wonders what Rick would think of Eddie using so much of his stash. Then again, it’s not like it’s going to be much use to Rick for the next few years.

The can’s brought up to your mouth, tilting your head back against Steve as he keeps his promise and opens the tab once your lips wrap over the hole. There’s beer dripping from the corner of your mouth, down your chin and neck, and you’re quickly reminded that you hate the taste of beer. Especially cheap beer. But you’re putting on a show so you’re committed to finishing it.

Steve grabs a hold of your chin as the now empty can clatters to the ground, your lips colliding quickly and he wastes no time licking into your mouth. He tasted like a mixture of weed, more cheap beer, and underlying hints of his spearmint gum. You’re giving an appreciative moan as his hand slips from your chin to cup the back of your neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.

Now, Eddie knows he should look away. He’s intruding on a personal moment, right? But there’s just something about the way that you and Steve interact that’s so addicting to him. It’s clear you’ve spent hours memorizing one another, learning what makes the other tick. There’s a sad thought that passes through his mind registering that there’s no way he’ll ever get to have a connection that intense. Even before the, you know, murderer from another dimension ruined his life. Eddie was a lot. He liked being a lot. He never found a girl who liked him being a lot and for a long time he was fine with pretending it didn’t bother him.

Then the picture of true love showed up to this damn house hours ago and he’s begun aching to feel even a tenth of that amount of passion.

He’s lighting up the bowl, finally forcing himself to look away while taking another long hit.

Your hands are firm on Steve’s chest, fisting around the soft material of his shirt and gently shoving him back. “Enough. Eddie doesn’t want to just sit around watching you devour me all night” He’s giving you a dopey grin, the hand not on the back of your neck coming up so he can use his thumb to swipe away the saliva shining on your lips.

“Munson gets it. Sometimes you just can’t help yourself, right?”

Steve’s looking over to Eddie for approval but he won’t look at either of you. Exhaling a stream of smoke from his last hit before responding.

“Nah, man. The Freak title excludes any and all sexual connotations. Made out with Elizabeth Hertz last year but that was just because she wanted free weed. Gareth kissed me after a show because he was drunk off adrenaline. Don’t really count him on the list of conquests though.” He’s blaming the high inching it’s way through his body, but for some reason he wanted to make it known that he’ll happily kiss boys too. In fact, Eddie Munson will pretty much kiss anyone who wants to kiss him.

“Huh.”

It comes out so quickly and you can stop yourself, both boys now looking your way. You give a little shrug, leaning into Steve as you respond. “Just surprised, that’s all. You’re pretty, figured someone would have thrown themselves at you by now.”

Eddie’s blushing at your compliment. Honest to God, cheeks turning pink blushing. He’s throwing a wink your way while trying to downplay how much the compliment got to him.

“Wish everyone felt that way, Sweetheart.”

You’re looking up at Steve now who just knows what’s coming next.

✧･ﾟ:*-*:･ﾟ✧

The two of you had talked before about including someone else. You both liked girls, that came up pretty quick. Robin asked you to play fuck, marry, kill one night while you sat around at Family Video during your shift. The way you drooled over Faye Dunaway gave you away pretty quickly.

Then, late one night, Steve was a little drunk and half asleep when he asked you what it felt like to kiss a boy. You said it was firmer, that their lips were rougher. But that kissing him made you feel safe and loved, though that wasn’t the norm.

“Kinda wanna kiss a boy the same way you wanna kiss girls. Quickly followed by, “Happy if I spend the rest of my life only kissing you though. Just something I wouldn’t mind happening.”

You just laugh while pulling his sweaty party clothes off of his body, tossing them across the room to deal with tomorrow.

“You wanna kiss a boy, huh? Well, I’m sure we can make that happen.”

✧･ﾟ:*-*:･ﾟ✧

“So - Is that like a thing then? Making out with you in exchange for free weed? Because in that case, you’ve been smoking me and Steve out all night. Pretty sure that means we’ve got a great debt to pay.”

Eddie can strike the idea down. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did. Mere hours ago you weren’t fully sure if Eddie was a killer and you weren’t fully sure that Steve wouldn’t kill Eddie. He’s toying with the rip in his jeans over his knee, looking over the two of you as if he’s trying to decide if this is real or not.

“You and Steve…” He’s dragging out your names, almost as though he were testing out how they taste on his tongue. You and Steve.

You’re looking back to get confirmation from Steve who’s nothing more than entertained. You’re stepping towards Eddie now, slow enough where anyone can stop you yet not surprised neither of them do. He’s not taking his eyes off of you and you can see his breathing pick up as you get closer. Your knees are sinking into the couch beside him, kneeling into the cushions and reaching over to rest your hand on his upper thigh. Giving him a small squeeze and his muscle twitches in response to the touch.

“Do you wanna kiss me, Eddie? Kiss us?”

His breathing cuts off completely, and if you weren’t paying such close attention to his face you would have caught the way his hand goes from playing with the rip to actually pinching himself on his thigh. There’s no way this is real. Eddie’s nodding a little too eagerly, his cool guy facade falling apart. You lean forward, the smell of your perfume ever so faint but taking over his brain, to grab his hand. Dragging it up your own chest, along the curve of your breast, bringing his hand around the front of your throat, finally directing him to cup the back of your throat instead.

“Then kiss me.”

Eddie’s risking a glance over to Steve as he tightens his grip on your neck, half expecting to see the other boy with his fist cocked back, ready to swing and fight for you.

He’s not though.

Just giving a small shrug of his shoulders, trying to bite down his entertained grin. You always got what you wanted, Steve’s just surprised it’s Eddie you want. He can’t blame you. Maybe it’s the mood set by the two year old Christmas lights that Rick never takes down illuminating the room, the buzz vibrating throughout your bodies, or the way Eddie keeps looking between you with those wide brown eyes... Something about the situation has Steve understanding the way you feel.

Your hands are on Eddie’s chest now, fisting around the material as you lean in to ghost your lips against his. “Are you gonna make me ask again?” His fingers are twitching on the back of your neck, tightening his grip before finally connecting your lips together. The kiss is timid at first, you can feel the nerves practically rolling off of his body, so you take it upon yourself to take the lead.

Eddie’s moaning into your mouth when he feels your tongue swipe along his bottom lip. He’s licking over his own lip, savoring the taste of Pabst, weed, and the sickly sweet taste of wine coolers you’d been sipping on all night. Somewhere buried under all that, there’s the taste of just you. His tongue slips between your parted lips, licking into your mouth and giving an appreciative moan once again. You delight in just how vocal he’s being.

The couch’s dipping beside you, Steve settling back into the cushions to get a better view. His hand is low on your back, sliding down to knead at the flesh of your ass as you and Eddie settle into a rhythm. You can tell he’s inexperience and it’s endearing to say the least.

Your hand cups over the bulge in Eddie’s lap, rubbing along his growing length as he moans into your mouth. “Wanna see you, Baby. Is that okay?” His jaw goes slack, risking a glance over to Steve for approval. He’s just shrugging it off, his own hand coming to palm over his jeans as he mimics your motions on Eddie. “Whatever my girl wants, she gets.”

Eddie’s trying to process everything going on and it takes a moment for him to respond. Finally giving an unsteady nod to the room before looking back to you and God you can tell he’s nervous. His hands are on the back of your arms now as he mindlessly rubs up and down them, trying to keep himself grounded in the moment. “Then, uh, yeah. Yeah, that’ll be.... Good.”

Without much more convincing you get to work undoing his belt buckle. Unlatching the cold metal before giving it a firm tug, Eddie arching his hips up in order to help you remove it from his body. You pitch it under his arm and you feel his body jerk at the sudden sound. If you weren’t careful the mood could go sour quick due to the reminder of why you’re all here in the first place.

“So no one has ever touched you before? Just me?” Eddie nods enthusiastically as you unbutton his jeans, his breath hitching when he hears the sound of his zipper being pulled down. “Just you, Princess. Kinda scared, fuck, that I’m not gonna last that long if we’re being honest.” You’re giggling at the admission and Eddie’s thanking every star in the galaxy that he took the time to actually shower and change into clean clothes when you guys showed up.

The room fills with the sounds of both of you moaning when you finally slip your hand into Eddie’s boxers and feel his length against your hand. He’s gripping the back of your arms now, the circuit he’s been running this whole time, as he whimpers and rocks up to your touch. You make quick work of tugging his jeans and boxes down just enough to free him from his clothes. Marveling at the sight of him erect and desperate.

You wrap your hand around the base, giving him an experiment dry tug. Eddie’s head falls back against the wall as he moans out a string of profanities. His mind has to drift off to focus on anything but your touch or he’s going to finish from just one brush of your hand. You’re proud of yourself, giving him another flick of your wrist before letting him go. You start to push off the couch, standing up and pulling your shirt off of your overheated frame. Making quick work of your bra before tossing the both of them into the corner.

Eddie’s thankful for the break but he’s so hard that it fucking hurts. The sight of you topless in front of them is not helping his cause.

Steve’s eyes are on you as you reach over to him. He’s entertained and you can tell he’s hard in his tight jeans. You hold your hand out under his mouth, “Can you spit in my hand, Baby?” Steve grabs a hold of your wrist and does as he is told. Licking a strip down your fingers before spitting into your hand. He’s giving your wrist a squeeze before pushing your hand back towards Eddie.

You fall to your knees in between Eddie's legs and go right back to wrapping your wrist around him, lazily dragging your fist around him. Eddie’s clinging to you as you take your time exploring him, smiling down at the boy. “You’re longer than Steve. Not as thick but you’re long. Such a pretty cock, Eddie. Thank you for letting me take care of you tonight.”

He can barely even get his thoughts together fast enough to respond before you start shuffling off of his lap. Hand still firmly around his length as you settle on your knees between his legs. Eddie finally looks down at you and there could be angel wings coming from your back as far as he's concerned considering what a heavenly sight you make.

"Can I taste you, Eddie?" You're hamming it up for him. Batting your eyelashes and pouting. Something straight out of a porno, all for him.

It's odd - Steve feels almost... Proud? Maybe that's not the best word for describing watching your girlfriend suck someone else's dick but it's the best one he can find. You gorgeous in this lighting, you're being playful, and hell it's practically charity work. Taking this poor guy's virginity as a treat while his world is falling apart. It's admirable, really.

Eddie's frantically nodding while he twitches under your touch. Reaching down to try and shimmy his pants further down his legs so you have a better angle. "Darlin', you can do fucking anything to me. Don't have to ask anymore, okay? I appreciate but whatever you want is fine by me."

You grin up at him and lean closer, sticking your tongue out and keeping eye contact while tapping the head of his cock against your tongue. There's saliva dripping off your tongue and onto him, running down the sides of your length until it meets your fist. You're leaning in to wrap your lips around the head of him. Giving an appreciative hum before sinking down further around him.

Steve's taught you well. He's laid back and let you 'practice' sucking him off for hours at this point. His fingers laced behind his head while you get your throat used to taking him further and further. Sometimes he feels bad taking up all the attention and has you straddle his face to return the favor while you suck him off.

All that training and Eddie gets to reap the rewards.

It's easy for you to build up a stead pace. Tongue swirling his tip and using your hand to jack off his exposed length before you take him back into his mouth. Your other hand comes up to cup the weight his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze as you work.

Eddie’s bucking up his length deeper into your throat, causing you to gag around the sudden intrusion. “Gotta chill out, Munson.” He’s storing away the fact that Steve Harrington chastising him makes his cock twitch in your mouth. Something about a pretty boy being firm gets under his skin.

“Shit, my bad, Sweetheart. Just felt too fucking good.”

Steve's scooting closer to you both while the old, thrifted and worn couch makes creaking sounds under him. He's taking your hand that isn't currently occupied with Eddie and putting it on the front of his too tight jeans. You give a hum of appreciation at the familiar feeling of your boyfriend under your touch, pulling back from Eddie's cock with a string of spit attached to your lip. You're using the same motion on the both of them while grinning up at Eddie.

"Can you get him out for me? Unless you want me to stop touching you?"

Eddie gasps involuntarily and shakes his head, pumping his cock through your fisted hand. It's slick and obscene and he's twitching in your grasp. He looks between the two of you nervously but when Steve doesn't object he decides to lean forward to move your hand out of the way, shaky fingers touching the metal of his belt. "You guys are-..." He's cutting himself off with a broken laugh as your lips press a kiss to the head of his cock, a reward for doing as he's told, "You're fuckin' insane."

Steve's beaming. He's eating this up.

His hips arch under Eddie's touch and you keep your eyes trained on the boys while lazily jacking off Eddie. Steve helps the two of you and pushes his jeans down his thighs, the head of his cock threatening to slide out of the slit in his briefs. Eddie's watching his face for a moment before hooking his fingers under Steve's boxers and pulling them down.

Steve's cock is thick and hard, dripping at the tip. You whimper at the sight of him, rubbing your thighs together as your clit starts to throb. Steve snatches up your free hand once again, spitting into your palm before bringing your hand to his cock. You wrap your fingers around the base and are back to repeating the same motions on the two boys.

You wrap your lips around Eddie's cock once again, his length sliding down your throat as he fucks into your warm mouth. You notice his fingers still linger on Steve's thigh, he's short circuiting at the combination of the both of you. "You are uh.... Fuck, she wasn't lying." Steve's chest puffs up with pride as the two of you both admire how thick his cock is.

There's a giggle coming out of you that you just can't help though the sound gets muffled by Eddie's cock.

This is crazy.

Eddie whines as you pull off of his cock once again but God are you a vision. Spit dribbling down your chin, eyes wide and dark with lust. You look over and pout at your boyfriend as your wrist starts to slow its pace on both of them. He knows exactly what that look means - You're needy. Rightfully so too.

It takes mere seconds from the moment your attentive boyfriend picks up on your queue for the situation to completely change. He's pushing back against the couch and kicking his jeans fully off before ushering Eddie away from you. Eddie who's almost skittish, desperately wanting to make sure he doesn't overstep and doing as he's told.

He watches as Steve pulls you up from the ground, a hand instantly going to the back of your neck as he pulls you into a feverish kiss. You instantly melt against his chest, a mess of parted lips and breathy moans and whimpers that are going right through him. There's a hand slipping into your pants, Steve's nimble fingers making quick work of cupping over your heat.

Steve moans into your mouth while his cock twitches against your thigh, "Baby, you let yourself get this wet without letting me know?" You pathetically nod, desperately gripping onto Steve's arms as he drags a finger between your folds. "Bet this pussy wants to be fucked so bad, huh?" That finger presses into you now without warning and Steve bucks his hips at the same time you clenched around his digit. "Fuck, can feel how needy you are."

Eddie's going to fucking combust.

Your boyfriend doesn't even look away from you as he pats his hand against your pussy, kissing you once more before just talking into the abyss. "We need a bed."

And that's how you end up down the hallway with Steve pushing you back against this shitty bed, the springs whining under you as you bounce against the thin padding. Eddie can't help but think how much better you deserve but they're working with what they've got for now. Your pants and underwear are being ripped off by Steve and Eddie nearly creams himself at the sight of your bare pussy exposed to them both.

Your feet are planted far apart, legs falling open to give them both a good look. Their gazes are intense and empowering as you reach a hand down to toy with your clit, giving them a dramatic moan as you do. Someone needs to check Eddie's pulse because he's half convinced he died the other night and this is just some weird section of Heaven.

Steve steps over to Eddie, clapping a hand against his shoulder before reaching down to tug his shirt off of his slender frame. "I'll let you go first since you've never fucked before but you better treat her, Muson. I know my girl, I'll know if you don't do a good job, yeah?"

He's stumbling over to you, jaw slack and all he can hear is his heartbeat in his ears as he watches you slide two fingers into yourself. "Jesus Christ...." You do your best to look like every man's dream porno at that moment - Pumping your fingers in and out of your pussy, fluttering your eyelashes, whining while you use your free hand to play with one of your nipples. "Need you to fuck me so bad, Eddie."

Eddie’s looking around the room on the hunt for what you can only assume is a condom. Panic playing across his face much to both you and Steve’s entertainment. Your boyfriend’s laughing besides him, “She’s on the pill.” To which you nod eagerly, “Knew from the first time Stevie and I hooked up I had to be.”

The sound of a sharp smack fills the room as Steve playfully spanks his hand against Eddie's ass before moving to stand next to the two of you at the foot of the bed. He's leaning in to press a kiss against your lips, roughly grabbing at the breast you weren't teasing while Eddie moves to kneel on the bed between your legs. "He's gonna take good care of you, Baby."

Your brain is fuzzy. Your body is needy. Something needs to give.

Eddie’s hovering over you now, his hair hanging down and tickling your face. “Here, m’gonna take care of you.” You’re pushing your fingers back through his hair, gathering it up in your fist before sliding the elastic from your wrist and giving him a haphazard ponytail. It’s the best you can do given the circumstances.

Remember how Eddie was afraid he’d never feel affection like he wanted to? That moment threw his fears out the window. You were so gentle with him, so caring. It’s making his heart have this painful flutter and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to convey to you how much this night means to him.

You’re leaning up, brushing your lips along his which brings Eddie out of his train of thought. “You sure you wanna do this? No pressure, Honey. We can all go to bed and act like none of this happened.” None of this happened? There’s no way he could ever forget tonight. He’s shaking his head, catching your lips in another kiss while lowering his hips so your bodies are flush together. Eddie’s moaning into your mouth at the feeling of your core along his length, instinctively rutting himself against you. You snake your arms around his chest, holding him close to you while he balances himself with one elbow digging into the bed, his other hand reaching down to fist around himself.

There’s a choked out moan coming from the boy as the head of his cock pushes into you. Eddie has to pause his motions and regroup himself before starting to sink in further. This is a life altering experience for him... He refuses to be nothing more than a virgin who can only last thirty seconds in your mind.

You arch your hips up to meet him halfway, both of you adjusting to the sensation. Eddie’s staring down at you as though he’d lasso the moon and bring it down to Earth if it would do so much as make you smile... Maybe he needs to remind himself that you’re taken and this is only happening due to the oddest set of circumstances ever experienced.

Hey, sue him, but maybe he doesn’t remind himself at all.

Maybe as his hips rock into you, with a motion that isn’t exactly coordinated but it’s still driving you wild, he allows himself to savor the affection you give. The way you’re trying to fight the urge to close your eyes because you don’t want to miss a second of his expression. The way his name falls from your lips.

Like Steve said earlier, sometimes you just can’t help yourself.

“How does she feel, Munson?”

“Like fuckin’ heaven.”

Eddie’s rutting himself up into you, trying to decide between just staying buried so deep or using every last breath he has begging you to move with him. His body is short circuiting and he just knows for a fact that this probably isn’t the best fuck you’ve ever had but as far as he’s concerned? Sex has never felt better for anyone in the world than how he feels right now. You’re warm and wet, practically soaking everything that touches where the two of you are connected.

He’s letting out a pathetic little whimper as he fucks into your sloppy pussy and Steve finds himself entertained as he watches Eddie take on the role he normally gets you in. Babbling and begging. Steve’s laughing to himself before coming to stand behind Eddie. He’s holding his hands higher on Eddie’s hips, silently directing the boy on how to fuck you better.

To his credit - Eddie is a quick learner.

He’s capturing your lips in a gentle kiss - you can tell he’s been getting better at kissing over the course of the night. Your arms wrap tight around his neck, slowly beginning to drag your hips a few inches up and almost lazily fucking yourself on Eddie.

Eddie who can’t see straight anymore and isn’t sure his heart has stopped beating.

“Holy shit, holy fuck, holy fucking shit.”

You can tell by his frantic words that he’s getting closer. You’re not sure how much longer he has left in him so you make a show of arching your back into him, grabbing ahold of his hair and his bicep with the other hand. Fluttering yourself around his length before giving a dramatic gasp and letting your ‘orgasm’ wash over you. This part of the night was about letting Eddie use you for his pleasure, you didn’t want him to look back and think you didn’t enjoy yourself.

Steve knows you, knows your body. He knows what you’re up to and will make sure you’re well taken care of.

And it does work. Eddie’s hips start sputtering while he mutters out, “Holy shit that was so hot.” He’s barely got time to fuck another few strokes into you before he’s finishing without warning. Chasing the feeling by rocking himself through his orgasm, finishing deep inside of you. Partly kicking himself in the ass because he doesn’t want this experience to be over already.

It takes him a moment to collect his thoughts, leaning in to kiss you and mutter out praises and thank you’s in between every kiss. In that moment he’s no longer on the run, there’s no longer his life imploding around him. He gets to just be Eddie and there’s not enough words in the English language to convey how much that means to him. Eddie gives you one final kiss before he's whining and pulling out, the cool air against his wet and sensitive cock causing him to hiss.

You only have but seconds to recover before you feel your boyfriend’s touch.

Steve grabs a hold of your ankles, throwing them both over his shoulders before he leans in for his turn to kiss you. It's sloppy and messy and you haven't had a coherent thought since you laid down on this bed so you can only imagine what kissing you is like but he's not complaining. He pulls back to get a good look at you, giving himself confirmation that you were still doing okay. Fucked out and blissful, he knows you're thriving probably more than you should be but you didn't feel any shame.

He pulls even further back to continue his examination, stopping at the sight of you spread open for him, marveling at the way Eddie’s cum drips out of you. He’s used to seeing his own, used to scooping it up and pushing it back inside of you, but something about seeing you filled up by another man… It’s bringing out a weird, feral part of Steve that he doesn’t quite comprehend.

You're whining and grabbing a hold of his waist as you feel the thick head of Steve's cock press against your sensitive hole, your puffy pussy throbbing even harder than you thought possible. "Getting fucked twice in one night... Just know you're happy, aren't you? Mhm, fuck, this greedy little cunt was made to be wrapped around my cock. Might share it every now and then but you know where you belong, don't you?" Your nails dig into Steve's shoulders and he chuckles as you arch your hips up, desperate to get him inside of you.

"Stevie, please. Need to feel you." And he doesn't make you ask twice. You're gasping and thrashing against the bed as Steve stretches you out. Even after Eddie fucked you it still took a second for you to adjust to how girthy he was. There's a mixture of your wetness and Eddie's cum being pushed out around his cock as he buries himself into you, the sensation driving him wild.

He’s slowly dragging himself back out of you, much to your protest. Taking the head of his cock through the cum that’s leaked out, collecting it on himself before lining up and pushing into you with one firm thrust. The sinful sound of Steve stretching out your wet pussy filling the room. He’s letting you relax under him while those strong arms hold you close to him, body going lax.

“So fucking full. Can’t think straight. Two pretty boys in me… S’good.”

Every word and sound you could make is caught in your throat, effectively rendering you dead silent. You don’t know who noticed your fingers working your clit first but Eddie’s tight grip on your wrist is keeping you from continuing. “Absolutely not.”

Eddie’s watching Steve’s expression for any hint of disgust or disapproval. There’s none. Instead he’s giving Eddie a small nod of encouragement. There’s a shift in the energy in the air.

You feel Eddie shuffle on the bed, his warm breath on your stomach, and all of a sudden you see the lights of Heaven when you feel Eddie’s tongue lapping at your clit while Steve picks up the pace of fucking into you.

Even in your turned on bliss, you’re not missing the fact that Eddie’s tongue is accidentally brushing over Steve’s cock. By the look on Steve’s face, he doesn’t quite mind the extra attention either.

“You’re both such pretty boys. Thank you for taking care of me so fucking good. No one else can treat this pussy like you two.”

Your words make Steve’s hips lose their pace, pulling out a little too far which causes him to slip between your folds and up towards your clit. Towards Eddie’s open mouth. His tongue already out for your clit when suddenly he has the firm weight of Steve fuckin’ Harrington’s cock in his mouth.

And they’re both moaning.

Neither pulling away.

Steve’s pumping himself further into Eddie’s mouth before he truly realizes what he’s doing, his balls tightening up for a second at the new sensation. You want to cry out, your pussy desperately clenching around nothing after being so deliciously filled. But you know better. You don’t want to disrupt the sight.

It’s Steve who jerks his hips back first, pulling out of Eddie’s mouth. “Fuck, bro. Sorry.” But he wasn’t sorry, not really. The only thing Eddie wants him to be sorry about is pulling out of his throat. You’re dripping wet. Like, wet spot in the bed because of your pussy wet. Steve’s losing a bit of that friction feeling and he doesn’t want you to be missing it too. That’s what he tells himself at least.

Tells himself that you need to be cleaned up so this night feels better for you.

Right?

So he’s taking a hold of his cock, fist wrapping around the base. “You uh, -… You wanna clean her up for me, Munson?” An offering to Eddie. He can either go right for your pussy and pretend that Steve wasn’t asking to suck him off.

And you’re not even offended when he picks Steve. Because the sight of Eddie Munson sucking you off of Steve’s dick?

Steve’s moaning as Eddie wraps his lips around his cock. Swirling his tongue around the tip before working on taking more length. Your fingers are back on your pussy and fuck you really did need to be cleaned up. You’ve got two fingers pushed into yourself, and while it doesn’t match how full you just felt, the view makes up for it.

The sight doesn’t last long, Steve pulling himself out of Eddie’s mouth with a satisfying ‘pop’. “Not gonna last much longer if we keep this up.” And to his credit, Eddie’s pouting. His fingers touching his lips as he remembers the feeling but he’s nodding nonetheless.

Your nails are digging into Steve’s back, clinging to him as if he were a lifeboat while you're drowning in all these sensations. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes and Steve’s cupping your face to wipe them away while Eddie adjusts himself until the three of you are as comfortable as possible. There’s Eddie’s lips at the back of your shoulder pressing a tender kiss as Steve speaks, “Words. How are you doing? Too much?”

It takes you a moment to collect yourself but you’re finally able to muster up a lopsided smile for him, nodding with your head bumping against Eddie’s. “Good, so good. Thank you for checking on me.” You slide a hand through the hair on the nape of Eddie’s neck, giving him a kiss as Steve pushes back into you.

You only get a few more kisses before Eddie has to pull back - He’s starting to get hard again and it hurts. He decides he has to try even harder to make sure he gets out of this alive just on the off chance you two ever invite him in again.

Steve takes this as his chance to lean in, pressing his chest flat against yours as he bends you in half. There’s a warm hand cupping your jaw and you wait until he gets closer, your lips finally touching so you’re able to keep your voice low. “Always so good to me, Stevie. Treat me so well… Treat this pussy so good. Love belonging to you.”

He’s groaning into your mouth, savoring every word you give him. “Gonna make my pretty girl cum…. Can feel how bad you need me. Fuck, squeezing me so tight.” Steve starts to pick up the pace and jackhammers himself into you. Relentless, claiming. All you can do is lay there and take your boyfriend. He knows how bad you need to finish, how badly you need him. The coarse pubes at the base of his cock keep brushing against your overstimulated clit and you cry out, arching your back up into him as you start to black out from this level of pleasure. Spots in your vision, no thoughts in your head. Just pure pleasure taking over your body.

There’s not much warning when your orgasm finally hits your body. Your back arching off of the bed and legs starting to shake as it vibrates through every inch of your being. The loud, lewd sounds coming out of you making everyone thankful they’re so far into the woods. Steve’s slowing his pace while he fucks you through the sensation, warm arms wrapping around your body after he drops your legs to let them fall to the side of you two. He’s shushing you, peppering kisses along your jaw and neck. “That’s it, Baby. Let go, I’ve got you. Such a good girl for me.”

Steve's orgasm comes quickly after yours, the spasms of your core milking it out of him. You know he's going to be scratched and bruised tomorrow morning from the way you're desperately clinging to him at the feeling of being so, so full. You wanna offer him the same reassurance but there’s nothing able to come out of you except a mess of ‘Love you. Love you so much’ which makes his heart tug.

He’s pulling back after the two of you have a moment to collect yourselves, looking at you all blissed out and your body fully relaxed after having been used as much as one could probably withstand. Your head is still tilted back against the pillow, his fingers pushing through your hair as it keeps sticking to your damp forehead each time you adjust. It’s kind of endearing how gentle he’s being with you considering how filthy the three of you have been.

Your whines fill the room as Steve pulls out of you, falling flat against the bed next to you. His fingers tangle together with yours as he still craves your touch.

Eddie had left the room towards the end of your intercourse - The moment so intimate that he felt as though he was intruding. He’s sneaking back in, giving the sight of you two sprawled out on the bed a fond little smile as he sits down cups of water on the side table. The least he could do was attempt to take care of the both of you the best he could.

He’s stepping over to stand between the two of you, a warm hand cupping your knees to give them a gentle squeeze. That’s when this sneaky little idea comes to Eddie. Your eyes are closed, giving an appreciative hum at the affection felt between Steve’s touch and Eddie rubbing his hand higher along your thighs.

It’s quiet for a moment as Steve lays on his back next to you. One hand behind his head, the other grabbing you still the only warning you get is a shuffling on the bed before -

“Holy fuck, Eddie.”

His head is between your thighs, tongue dragging right between your folds. Your back is arching while your hands come down to lace in his hair. Steve’s slacked jaw, watching as Eddie begins licking you out. His cock is giving a painful twitch, still sensitive but it’s a damn fine sight.

Eddie’s dipping his tongue into you, curling it just right to collect whatever he can get. Your hips are starting to rock up against his face but the sensation is just too much. He takes your choked out whimpers as a sign. Pulling away from you with this practically pornographic pop of his lips as his suction is lost against you. His lips are shiny, eyes trained on Steve.

You watch as Eddie shuffles forward, reaching out to cup Steve’s chin. The sight above you? It’s addicting. Eddie’s thumb drags across Steve’s lips and he’s quickly letting his jaw fall open under the touch.

Eddie’s leaning forward and you gasp as he spits into Steve’s mouth. A mixture of you, Eddie, and Steve being shared between the two. Steve’s groaning and your eyes are trained on his neck as you watch him swallow.

Next there’s Eddie’s warm hand around your throat. His eyes are so playful, so cocky as he looks down at you. You know what’s expected of you and open your mouth before you’re asked. The reward? Eddie’s hand tightening around your throat. You’re reaching out to grab his hip, nails digging into his flesh while he leans over you a bit more to get the angle right. Like he said earlier, he doesn’t want anything going to waste.

Eddie’s spitting the rest of what he has into your mouth, his hand coming up from your throat so his thumb can come between your lips. You close your mouth around it, Eddie feeling as you swallow what was given to you.“Uh -“ Eddie’s cheeks go this pretty shade of pink and he refuses to look at either of you, “Not to make this all weird and shit, but thank you guys for doing that with me. Never fuckin’ expected to lose my virginity to Steve Harrington and his hot ass girlfriend. But it was good.”

#can't believe she's finally done eeeee #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem #steddie x y/n #steddie x reader #steddie x you #steddie smut #steve harrington smut #eddie munson smut #e.m.♡#s.h. ♡#steve harrington

2K notes · View notes

candy69gurl · 2 months

Note

can you do hybrid! Wolf toji claiming you during his rut?

THE HOWL OF DESIRE

Hybrid! Wolf toji x f!reader

Warnings- 18+, dark, slight non/con (Toji does not intend to harm you), size kink (both are adults), cave sex, multiple orgasms, nipple biting & play, fingering (Toji has black big nails), raw sex (cumming inside many times), breeding, pussy eating

wc - 2.6k

ART NOT MINE !

As you traverse through the dense woods, you find yourself getting increasingly disoriented, unsure of which way leads back to civilization. The sun's rays barely penetrating the thick canopy above, casting eerie shadows on the forest floor. You begin to worry, knowing that spending the night here could lead to dangerous consequences.

Suddenly, your senses pick up on the sound of rustling leaves nearby. You freeze, trying to discern whether it is an animal or something more sinister.

A figure emerges from behind a tree, and you gasp involuntarily. It is a creature of height 6'1ft, he appears as a magnificent wolf-human hybrid. He is slender but muscular and athletic, and his wolfish aura makes him look intimidating. As he closes on your position you notice his ears flattened on his head and his tail is pointed upright, his body has chiseled muscles and trademark scars, his green sword-like eyes looking through your soul. His mouth bore fang-like teeth that you swear are more vicious than natural canine teeth of humans.

His eyes lock onto yours, a mixture of hunger and desire burning within their depths.

"Hello, human," he growls softly, his voice tinged with an animalistic quality. "Lost, are we? Well, I don't normally go for humans, but you seem intriguing enough."

As you stand frozen in fear and confusion, Toji takes a step closer, his form shifting slightly, the wolf aspects becoming more pronounced. His eyes gleam with lust, and you can faintly smell his pheromones in the air – a testament to his overwhelming need to mate. "Ah finally," he says, taking another step toward you. "It's just my rut, and I need a mate to breed with. Normally, I wouldn't ask a human, but I cannot wait anymore."

His voice is calm, almost soothing despite the terrifying situation. Your heart races as you contemplate your options, but you realize that running might only agitate him further. Nonetheless your legs unconsciously start to move. There is only one way to get out of this- by running.

"So," he continues, his back facing you but when he turns to you, he sees you running, " What's a prey if they don't try running".

With a grin spreading across his face, Toji starts running after you, muscles rippling as he leaps after you. His movements are fluid and quick, darting through the trees with ease. You feel your adrenaline surge, pushing your speed to its limit as you navigate the unfamiliar terrain. However, he seems to know these woods intimately, and your panic increases as you realize you're unable to shake him off.

"Caught you little bunny" he exclaims, grabbing your neck. Despite his triumphant words, there's a hint of concern in his eyes. He pauses, contemplating his next move. "Running isn't going to solve anything, and believe me, you don't want to get hurt.. Or do you?"

"P-please let me go.. I have to get back home."

Toji weighs your plea, his gaze lingering on you thoughtfully. His need for release is urgent, but he doesn't wish to harm you unnecessarily. "I can let you go, but I'm afraid you won't find your way back alone." His voice holds a note of genuine concern, his eyes softening momentarily.

Then, his expression shifts, the wolfish hunger returning. "But," he adds, "If you agree to stay and help alleviate my… condition, I promise to guide you safely back to where you belong. You won't regret it, trust me." He leans close, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, "I'll make sure you enjoy it too."

You stand there, contemplating your options. The thought of being alone in these woods, possibly lost for another night, is daunting. On the other hand, submitting to Toji's demands is equally terrifying, but there's a strange allure to it as well. His promise of safety and pleasure seems almost too good to be true.

As you weigh the pros and cons, Toji watches you intently, his eyes never leaving yours. He can sense your hesitation, and it fuels his desire even more. "I understand if you're scared," he says softly, reaching out to gently cup your cheek. "But I promise, I won't hurt you. I just need someone to share this with, and you seem like the perfect one."

His touch is warm and comforting, despite the situation. You can't help but feel a strange sense of comfort in his presence, as if he truly means what he says. "So, what do you say?" he asks, his voice low and seductive. "Will you help me, and let me help you in return?"

"O-only if you promise to be gentle..", you reply, your voice shaking from his intimidating aura.

Toji's eyes crinkle at the corners, a rare smile gracing his features. "Gentle it is," he assures you, his grip on your cheek gentle but firm. "I can't promise but I will try since you are my first human mate.. Come, let's find a suitable spot. We don't want to draw attention, do we?" His voice is smooth, radiating confidence and control. You hesitate, but there's a sense of safety in his presence that you can't deny.

With a deep breath, you take his hand, allowing him to lead you deeper into the woods. The fear is still there, but it's tempered by a growing curiosity. You're stepping into unknown territory, but for some reason, you don't feel threatened. Instead, there's a strange excitement coursing through you, making your heart beat faster.

As you follow Toji deeper into the woods, you begin to notice subtle changes in the landscape. Brambles part before you, revealing a hidden trail leading to a small clearing. In the center of the clearing lies a cave, half-hidden by the surrounding foliage. This is where Toji leads you, guiding you inside with a gentle push.

The cave is surprisingly cozy, lit by the dim light seeping through the entrance. There's a palpable sense of warmth and security, and you can't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. Toji observes your reaction, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"This is my den," he explains, gesturing around. "Now, shall we proceed?" He tilts his head, his eyes holding a mix of anticipation and expectation. You can tell that his rut is still strong, but he's patiently waiting for your lead.

Your nod sends a wave of excitement through Toji, his eyes glinting with eagerness.. He quickly steps closer, nearly ripping your pants and panties off. He hovers over you, his eyes locked on yours as he positions himself between your thighs.

Surprised by his sudden movement, you struggle in his grip, "W-wait you need to loosen me up"

Toji pauses, confusion clouding his features for a brief moment. "Loosen you up?" he repeats, his voice heavy with confusion. Then, understanding dawns on his face, and he chuckles softly. "Tsk, I can wait no more but fine since you beg me so obediently", moving between your legs. He gently parts you with his fingers, feeling your dampness.

"You're already prepared," he murmurs, a note of approval in his voice.

"Ah~", your back arches at his finger movements, your back hitting the ground of the cave.

At your response, Toji's eyes darken with lust. He thrusts his fingers into you roughly. You arch your back,

"Are ya loose yet?" His eyes remain locked on yours, his expression a mix of impatience and excitement.

"n-no not yet.. a-ah", your voice cracks up in pleasure.

Toji's eyes narrow, his brows furrowing in concentration. He inserts a third finger, thrusting harder this time, stretching you wider. You cry out, a mixture of pleasure and pain washing over you as you near your edge.

"Humans are so responsive..." he mutters, his voice thick with desire as he continues to fuck you with his fingers. His eyes never leave yours, the intensity between you and him building, is only heightened by the dim light of the cave.

Finally, after several more thrusts, you reach your orgasm and he withdraws his fingers, a satisfied smirk gracing his lips. "Ready?" He asks, his gaze locked on your face, waiting for your answer.

"mghh.. n-not now.. I need sometime.. I am sensitive right now", you protest.

Toji's eyes squint in annoyance "Shut up, I have been patient enough. I can't wait any longer."

With that, he positions himself between your legs again .With a sudden powerful surge, Toji thrusts into you, his giant cock stretching your poor hole wide. You gasp, your nails digging into the cave floor as you struggle to adjust to the intense sensation.

"Please.. A-ah .. be gentle"

"Shush..I am trying .. You humans are so fragile.. But", he grunts in pleasure, "ya feel so good. I never thought humans feel this good"

Though he is trying to be gentle, but your insides feel so good that he can't help but move relentlessly, his hips pumping in a primal rhythm. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure and pain through you, your body responding to his dominance.

Despite your initial protest, you can't help but moan loudly, writhing beneath him. His roughness sets you ablaze, and you find yourself meeting his thrusts eagerly. His scent, his strength - everything about this experience overwhelms you. Your body cries out for release, and you know you won't last long.

"That's it, take it!" Toji growls, his eyes locked on yours. His primal nature is on full display, and it's intoxicating.

Your toes curl up as Toji's thrusts intensify, his eyes widening at your reaction. "Fuck, you're tight," he groans, his voice thick with lust. "You feel incredible." His pace quickens, his hips slamming into you with brutal efficiency. You cry out, the cave echoing with your sounds of pleasure and pain.

His rut is nearing its peak, his body trembling with suppressed energy. With one last powerful lunge, he buries himself deep within you, filling you with his seed. "Take it all," he rasps, his breath hot against your neck.

In that moment, you surrender to the sensations, your own climax washing over you. Together, you collapse onto the cave floor, feeling spent but incredibly fulfilled. Your legs wrap around him instinctively, holding him close.

As he recovers, Toji nuzzles your neck, his breathing ragged. "I hope I was gentle enough," he murmurs, his voice filled with satisfaction.

"No .. you are so mean..", you reply panting.

Toji laughs, his chest rumbling against your throat. "Mean? Maybe, but effective, wouldn't you agree?" He teases, his grip on you tightening. "Besides, don't lie, you enjoyed it too."

He's right, you did enjoy it - despite the roughness. The intensity of the encounter left you shaken yet exhilarated. He turns you on your stomach "don't think it's over yet.. It's just a starting"

"w-what?", your pupil dilates at the though.

Toji pushes you on your stomach and he enters from behind. You moan, feeling him stretch you once again. With a smirk, he begins to thrust relentlessly, his body slamming against yours. His large hands grip your sides, holding you steady as he takes you from behind.

"We are going to do it whole night" he growls, each word punctuated by his thrusts.

You cry out, your body responding eagerly to his advances. You can't deny the pleasure surging through you. His dominance excites you, the raw intensity of his actions sending you spiraling towards another climax.

"God, you're so good," he praises, his voice thick with lust. "I could spend hours with you, sweet human."

"P-please can't no more", you plead.

Toji stills, pulling his cock out, your body shaking from oversensitiveness. "Already?" then he thrusts into you again. "I know you can handle this."

You cry out, feeling him entering you again.

Time skips, and you and he are still at it, you don't know what time it is, you don't know how many orgasms coursed through you.. The only thing you know is the pleasure you are getting from this.

Toji's eyes shine with lust, his hands firmly grasping your hips as he bounces you on his lap. Your hair falls in disarray around your face, your skin flushed from exertion. Each thrust elicits a soft moan from you, your body responding to his every command.

"Feel good?" he asks, his voice low and sultry. His eyes hold a mixture of satisfaction and hunger, his gaze never leaving your face. You nod, breathless, your nails scratching lightly at his shoulders.

"Good," he growls, increasing his pace. "I knew you'd love this." His hips buck, driving into you harder, faster. You cry out, your body reacting to his every touch.

"p-please play with my nipples too.. mhmm", your face flush with shame as you beg him to pleasure you. Unknowingly removing your hands remove your top and push up your bra, revealing your breasts with stiffening nipples.

Toji's eyes light up at your request, his hands immediately moving to your breasts. He pinches your nipples gently, then harder, eliciting a mix of pleasure and pain from you. You cry out, your body arching in response.

"You like that?" he asks, his voice thick with lust. "Is this what you wanted?"

You nod, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He leans to catch one of your bouncing tits in his mouth, licking and sucking. His fangs brush your nipples, nibbling on them gently

"f-fuck .. dont bite them.. ahhh."

Toji pulls back, releasing your nipple with a wet pop. He looks at you, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. "My apologies," he says, feigning innocence. "It seemed to please you though."

He resumes his thrusts, his movements fierce and unrestrained. His hands pinch and twist your nipples, his tongue lashing over them in turn. Each touch sends waves of pleasure-pain coursing through you, your body responding eagerly.

"I'm close," you whisper, your voice hoarse.

"Not yet," he growls, his eyes darkening. "I'm not done with you."

His words send a fresh wave of arousal coursing through you, pushing you closer to the edge. You cry out, your body writhing beneath him as he plays with your nipples, fucking you relentlessly.

"R-really can't anymore.. please let me .. let me cum", you beg him, tears falling from your cheeks.

Toji's eyes meet your teary eyes, his breath ragged.

"Don't cry little human", he licks your cheek wiping off your tears. "Then cum," he growls, his voice rough with pleasure. "Let go."

With a final, hard thrust, he drives into you, the motion perfectly synchronized with your climax. You cry out, your body shaking as you crest over the edge. He follows suit, his cock pulsing within you as he finds his own release. He growls which sounds more like a howl, as he fills your womb with his thick seed.

Exhausted, you slump against him, your breathing ragged. He holds you close, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

Soon you pass out. Toji catches you easily, his grip firm yet tender. "Awww. I wanted more though," he whispers, his voice softening, "but fine.. I have had enough fun.. I will help ya return tomorrow"

He gazes at your sleeping form, a hint of tenderness in his eyes. Despite his rough exterior, he cares for you. He wraps his big arms around you covering your fragile body, ensuring you stay warm throughout the night.

You awaken slowly, feeling warm, wet warmth between your legs. Your eyes flutter open, landing on Toji's face, his eyes gleaming with desire as he licks your cunt. The sight is both erotic and overwhelming.

"Morning," he greets, his voice thick with lust. "How are you feeling?"

You swallow hard, your heart racing. "W-what are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" he responds, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Cleaning you up after last night's fun."

You blush, your body reacting to his touch whether you want it to or not. Your eyes squeeze shut as he licks and kisses your most intimate places.

"Mmm, you taste delicious," he murmurs, his voice vibrating against your skin. "Like sweet honey."

"H-hey you said.. you will help me return back home.."

Toji raises his head, his eyes locked on yours. "Go home?" he repeats, surprise clear in his voice. "Oh yes.. But I want to fuck you before I leave you alone for good"

Your skin is already sensitive from his licks and touches, your body ready for more. You bite your lower lip before nodding.

He grins, his eyes filled with lust. "What we waiting for then?" He quickly moves, positioning himself between your legs.

He chuckles as your walls devour his huge girth. "I love how good your taking me.. Fuck.. I'll always find you during my rut, my little bunny."

3K notes · View notes

incognit0slut · 3 months

Note

hi! could u write a fic about is the first time of the reader with spencer helps her and them made love so romantic *im sorry im so romantic 🙈* :)

I luv all ur writings <3

xoxo

(18+) soft spencer x inexperienced reader. 1.4k

Love was a foreign concept until he met you.

Spencer has savored the taste of chocolate, relishing its rich sweetness as it melts on his tongue. He's indulged in the smoothness of honey, its velvety texture spreading across his palate. And amidst his love for the sugar in his coffee—slightly bitter yet abundantly sweet—none of these flavors could compare to the taste of you.

Because you tasted so divine, it was the only way he could describe it. His hands were pressed on the back of your thighs, forcing you to spread your legs further apart as he worked his tongue over you, swallowing every drop of arousal that dripped down to his mouth.

The thought of ever going back to a life without the taste of you seemed absurd now—It was a crime against his senses. So he devoured you eagerly, his tongue and lips working in perfect harmony, completely lost in the spell of your flavor and scent. He couldn't get enough, and honestly, he didn't want to stop.

He was hooked, addicted to the way you writhed and moaned beneath him; your fingers tangling in his hair, your desperate pleas, and the way your hips bucked against his mouth. And when he sensed you teetering on the edge of release, he doubled his efforts, sucking and licking with a feverish intensity, intent on drawing out every last drop of your bliss.

It wasn't until you gently pushed his head away that Spencer finally drew back, his lips and chin glistening with your arousal. You couldn't help but giggle at the satisfied grin that spread across his face, his breathless chuckle mirroring your amusement as he crawled over your trembling body.

"That was..." you trailed off, running your hand up his arm as he settled between your legs.

"Good?"

You sighed.

"Amazing. Splendid. Marvelous."

With a soft laugh, he reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. "Someone's been hitting the thesaurus."

You swatted at his shoulder playfully. "Shut up and kiss me again."

The smile on his face widened into a grin as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin before capturing your lips in a soft, tender kiss. He pressed himself closer to you and the unmistakable sensation of his cock brushing against your clit made you gasp in surprise.

"You're so perfect," he muttered, slowly grinding his length along your wet folds. He fought the urge to take you right then and there, but your comfort was his priority. He needed to make sure this was what you wanted. "Are you sure you're ready?"

You stifled a sigh. While you appreciated his concern, it was starting to get on your nerves, after all, it was just sex... You might be inexperienced, but how difficult could it be?

"Mmhm," you answered, though your voice came out a pitch higher than you intended. "Of course, I am."

He slightly pulled away. "You don't sound so sure."

You stared at him for a moment before finally letting out a sigh.

"Fine, I'm a little nervous, okay?" Biting your bottom lip, you voiced the question that had been weighing on your mind.

"Is it—" you suddenly sighed, or it was more like a moan that escaped your lips as the underside of his cock continued to rub along your wetness. "Is it... going to hurt?"

His expression softened as he reached out to gently cup your cheek. "It might be uncomfortable at first, but I'll be gentle, I promise," he reassured. "We can stop anytime you want."

"I don't want us to stop."

A surge of warmth flooded him at your words, and he leaned in to kiss your forehead. "Then we won't," he promised, slipping his hand between your body. "Don't worry, I'll take care of you."

You made a noise in the back of your throat as you watched him bring his cock closer, dragging it through your folds before he thrust his hips forward. The sensation was overwhelming and unfamiliar, and you couldn't help but tense up in response.

"Is this okay?" he asked. You nodded, though your breathing had become erratic. Your eyes fell closed as you started to feel him stretching you, the sensation both strange and uncomfortable. It was like your body was resisting him.

"Honey, I need you to relax," he murmured soothingly. "Can you do that for me?"

You winced when you felt him pushing further, a sharp pang of discomfort shooting through you. "S-Spence... it hurts..."

"I know, honey, I know," he whispered, his thumb continuing its gentle caress against your cheek. "Breathe with me."

You opened your eyes, meeting his reassuring gaze. Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady your racing heart, and he followed suit, matching your rhythm. In. Out. In. Out. Hold.

Breathe.

"Good, that's it," he encouraged softly. "Just like that. You're doing great."

Despite the initial discomfort, you focused on relaxing your body, allowing him to stretch your tight walls. He watched your lashes flutter against your cheek before his gaze dropped between you, taking in the stretch of your cunt, slowly allowing him to press deeper and deeper.

He then buried his face in your shoulder as he sheathed himself completely and you stifled a shocked yelp as you clung onto his shoulders for dear life, nails digging into his skin. You hadn't expected to feel so full, for him to reach that deep.

The room fell quiet, broken only by the steady rhythm of your breathing and the faint rustle of sheets. He waited patiently, his body pressed against yours, allowing you time to adjust. Then, he pressed a lingering kiss on your collarbone, his lips warm against your skin.

"Tell me how it feels," he whispered. You weren't sure you could form proper words, becoming so lost at the feeling of him inside of you. But you managed to take a moment to gather your thoughts.

"It feels... weird," you replied.

He lifted his head from your shoulder. "Do you want me to stop?"

You shook your head, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips as you stared up at him. He was beautiful like this, pressed against you, cheeks flushed with desire, damp hair tousled on his forehead—his cock finally buried deep inside you.

"You're doing so well for me, you know that?" he said, and the words made you sigh in response as his hips moved slightly back before rolling back into you, causing you to close your eyes with a quiet gasp the same time he let out a groan.

Something shifted after that. The air crackled with electricity. The blood in your veins pumped a little faster and your breathing deepened, each inhale filling your lungs with the heady scent of him. With growing urgency, your hips began to buck forward, eager to meet his slow, deliberate pace.

"Th-That feels good," you couldn't resist whispering to him. The initial pain you had felt had quickly faded, replaced by a rush of pure, hot pleasure that overwhelmed your senses.

"Do you think I can go faster?" He whispered, and you could hear the slick noise as he thrust his cock into your dripping walls. "Can you take it?"

A breathless yes escaped your lips and it was enough for him to get lost in you completely. His lips found their way to your neck, trailing kisses along your skin as he quickened his pace. The sensation was overwhelming, it was too much yet not enough, and all he could do was kiss every inch of your skin and tighten his grip on your body.

Spencer never understood the term making love, for love itself had often felt like a foreign concept to him. But with you in his arms, nothing else seemed more fitting, it was as if you were two pieces of a puzzle finally coming together.

He now realized that love wasn't something to be analyzed, it wasn’t something his big brain could understand—it was meant to be felt, deeply and profoundly, and his love for you was as natural as the beating of his own heart.

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x self insert #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader smut

1K notes · View notes

kyunzin · 4 months

Text

𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞

character; 𝐆. 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮, 𝐆. 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮, 𝐅. 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐒. 𝐑𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧

cw; picking up the phone while they’re fucking you (f!reader)

tags; slight voyerism/missionary position/ teasing (gojo), teasing/ doggy style/ degradation (geto), vouyerism/ degradation/ praise/ chokehold/ back shots (toji),sex tape/ voyerism/degradation/ objectification / missionary (sukuna), [yuuji makes an appearance at the end] (f!reader)

a/n; I haven’t posted in a while, if you requested it is in the making I promise, by the way if the spelling/grammar is bad it’s cause i’m writing this at 1 am my brain ain’t function properly rn

𝐆. 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

✰ would tease you, pick up the phone and tell the person that picked up that you’re busy while still fucking you.

“why don’t you answer it baby, it might be important?”

he smirks down at you as he watches you glare at him even though your moaning, letting out a weak “fuck you” at his childish antics.

“c’mon, all you have time do is see what they want it can be that hard”

his pace doesn’t let up and you watch in horror as he picks up the phone to answer with a devious smirk on his face. he knows you didn’t actually expect him to pick up the phone.

“this is gojo speaking, ah nanamin it’s you. sorry shes busy but I can help you”

your quick to slap your hand over you mouth and gojo feels the way you clench around him and he watches in amusement as you try to contain your noise though he’s sure the sound of his hips slapping against yours are making it through the speaker.

“yeah, I’ll be sure to pass on the message don’t worry”

once the call ends he throws the phone to the side and continues fucking you however the smirk never leaves his face. you’re sure to call nanami back and apologise for gojo’s behaviour.

𝐆. 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

✰ he would tease yout at first baiting you but he wouldn’t actually pick up.

“what would they think if they heard the pathetic sounds you’re making baby, you wanna find out?”

he watches as you shake your head and whine at his suggestion from below him but he feels the way your cunt tightens around him at the idea.

“you sure baby, then why did your pussy squeeze so tight when I mentioned it, clearly you want them to hear how much of a cock hungry slut you are don’t you”

it’s the first time something like this has happened so you’re not sure if he’s actually going to pick up or not, you’re oulse raising in anticipation.

“you think I don’t feel the way your sucking me in even tighter, someone would think that you actually enjoy the idea of someone hearing you, is that what you want?”

“no sug, please” you don’t know if your pleas will work as the way his hands grip onto your waist tighter say otherwise as well as the way he starts to reach for the phone ahead your pulse increasing. you believe he’s going to follow through with the suggestion until he picks yo the phone to decline the call and you sigh in relief.

“don’t worry princess, I’m the only one that gets to hear your slutty moans”

𝐅. 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

✰ would pick up straight away and make you speak to the person on the phone as he fucks you.

“tell them you’re busy, make it quick”

your not ready by the time he puts the phone up to your ear and you don’t even recognise the voice speaking to you not that you have half the brain right now as toji fucked the sense out of you but you have to comply with his wishes as you dont want to be punished even though you know hes only doing it to humiliate you.

“make sure you speak properly otherwise they won’t be able to understand you baby”

it’s hard for you to speak as he has you held up by your throat so your words come out choppy in between your moans and theres no doubt that the person on the phone can tell whats going on. “ye -fuck! hello s-sorry about that. shit, can I um -oh fuck, can I c-call you back later?”

“taking to long princess, hurry up”

“fuck! m’ trying, please! no not you -fuck sorry. m’ b-busy right now so I’m gonna call you back- fuck!” toji doesn’t wait for you to finish your sentence sending one particularly harsh thrust just before the call ends throwing it back to it’s place.

“such a good girl doing as i asked, but now they know what a dirty slut you are, taking calls while you’re being fucked”

𝐒. 𝐑𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧

✰ puts the phone next to your pussy so that the person can hear the obscene sounds then next to your mouth to hear your moans.

“keep making ‘em pretty noises for me”

you don’t even notice when he picks up the phone but you soon realise that he is holding your phone down to where his balls slap against your ass making the wettest sound and you know that he’s recording a video as he usual does when the two of you fuck, he says he saved it for when he can’t fuck you l.

“hear that it’s the sound of quality pussy, she’s sucking me in so tightly. bet you wish you were me huh?”

you don’t even have half a mind to question what he’s doing right now as even though he’s occupied with the phone he’s still fucking you brutally shaking the bed with the force of his thrusts eliciting loud and long moans from you.

“my pretty little whore can take my dick so well, she even makes the prettiest noises for me wanna hear?”

you’re not sure how long he records the sounds your pussy makes but the next thing you know is that the phone is placed next to your ear for it to hear the profanities leave your mouth one after the other a proud smirk on his face as you do “ryo please- oh fuck, feels s-so fuckin good”

“my cunt takes cock so well, pretty sure it’s all she’s good for. just to be used as my fleshlight”

you soon later come to learn that it was yuuji the video was for yuuji after hearing your moans he may or may have not fisted his cock all night in jealousy wishing it were him fucking you instead.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐉𝐔𝐉𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐍

@tyunixia @riowmie

2K notes · View notes

roosterr · 9 months

Note

Hi idk if you're accepting requests but I literally just read the amnesia fic, and I was wondering if I could request where reader suddenly remembers everything, and sprints around base trying to find them, and just jumps on them crying and apologizing for forgetting them. Just some really fluffy comfort? It's okay if you don't want to write this lol

the 141 when you have amnesia – p2

note: i have received your therapy bills :)

wc: 5.2k

warnings: still a bit angsty I'm sorry I couldn't resist, fluff, hurt/comfort, mild injury and blood, happy endings for all I promise

ao3

[part one]

price

✹ john thought your initial reaction was a good sign. you seemed to be taking things well, considering the extent of your injuries, and it was only a matter of time before your memories returned.

✹ your spirits are high when you're reintroduced to the team, and though you don't remember them either you do say they feel familiar, which he takes as a good sign for your recovery.

✹ when you're finally discharged, he takes you home, to the house that the two of you bought together. he shows you the photos of the two of you that decorate the walls, fondly retelling the stories of each one to you even though you were there, and these are your pictures.

✹ if you notice the way he chokes up when you get to your wedding photos, you don't say anything.

✹ like the true gentleman he is, he insists on sleeping on the sofa and leaving you to take the bed, despite your protests about it being his home too. even though you were receptive, he would never risk making you uncomfortable by sleeping in the same bed when he was, essentially, a stranger.

✹ in all your years of marriage, he's never slept on the sofa before. the two of you rarely go to bed without each other, apart from the times you're separated by your job, and consequently he finds himself not getting much rest.

✹ you're still on leave while you're physically recovering from being in a coma, so john has to go to work without you every morning, something he also hasn't done since you got married. he wishes he could bring you with him anyway, just to have you near him, but he knows that's selfish and you still need time.

✹ the base is dull without you.

✹ again, he keeps up the appearance that he's okay, and maybe it's a little more true this time now that you're actually awake, but he still feels your absence like a weight on his shoulders.

✹ the other three are pleased amongst themselves about your recovery, gaz and soap constantly asking him how you are; and he knows they mean well, but it's still irritating because how could you be okay? you don't even remember your own husband, nothing about this is okay.

✹ he keeps his grievances to himself though. he's still their captain, he can't afford to fall apart when he still has a job to do.

✹ he's woken up one night by soft footsteps in the living room. his neck aches as his eyes snap open, every sense on high alert until he realises it's just you. a quiet grunt escapes him as he sits up, massaging his sore muscles from sleeping on the sofa.

✹ when the sound of muffled crying reaches his ears, he's immediately on his feet, his heart racing as he shuffles over to where you're standing with a hand covering your mouth.

✹ he presses a hand to your back, rubbing soothing circles between your shoulder blades. you don't look at him, your crying only increasing in volume now you're not worried about waking him.

✹ now that he's right next to you, he sees through the darkness that you're holding one of your wedding photos. it's his favourite picture, the one where he's lifting you with an arm around your waist and you're both gazing into each other's eyes with the most lovestruck expression on your faces.

✹ "i– i know i love you, so wh-why can't i just remember you?" you sputter in between sobs, and you might as well have just ripped his heart out of his chest, because he can't stop the way he breaks down at your words.

✹ john wraps both arms tightly around you, caging you to his chest and nestling your head into the crook of his shoulder while pressing his own tear-stained face into the top of your head.

✹ "it's alright, love–" his voice cracks pitifully, and he's never felt quite as hopeless as he does in this moment. "it'll be alright, you'll remember, i promise…"

✹ he's not sure who he's trying to convince, you or himself as you both sink to the floor in each other's embrace. you stay like that for hours, crying for your lost memory into the early morning.

✹ after that, he can't be bothered to pretend he's okay anymore.

✹ he starts drinking again, shamelessly in the middle of the day and grumbling at gaz and ghost when they wrestle the bottle away from him. he knows you'd disapprove, but the toll of lying to himself and everyone around him has caught up. all he wanted was his partner back, the love of his life, you.

✹ the others try to knock some sense into him, but talking to him becomes like going back and forth with a brick wall. gaz even gets kate on the phone to yell at him, but nothing seems to get through. he orders them to leave him alone, stop asking about you, and it really feels like he's lost hope.

✹ it goes on like this for a week straight, nearly a full month since you first woke up.

✹ and then one boring afternoon, there's a commotion outside his office. john hears cheers and shouts from down the corridor, but he can't bring himself to care enough to investigate.

✹ he's not in the mood to celebrate whatever it is they're cheering about anyway.

✹ john's just about to stand and yell at them to shut up, but then you're suddenly standing at his door, slamming it behind you as you rush over to his desk. his face must be the picture of surprise as he swivels in his chair to follow you as you approach, opening his legs for you to stand between them.

✹ his breath catches in his throat as you cup his face, your touch so tender it has his heart hammering against his sternum like the very first time you touched him all those years ago. he plants his hands firmly on your hips, too afraid of getting his hopes up to say a single word as he watches you get closer.

✹ your face hovers just above his, warm breath fanning over his face as you inch ever closer. he sees your eyes glistening before they flutter shut, brushing your lips against his with an anticipation that has his skin tingling.

✹ when you pull away, his eyes stay closed, but he can hear the smile in your voice when you whisper,

✹ "i remember you now."

✹ his heart might’ve actually stopped at your words, surprise shooting through him like a bolt of lightning as his eyes snap open.

✹ in a second, he's lifting you by the waist and dropping you onto his desk, uncaring for the various papers that he brushes out of the way to make room for you.

✹ he can't stop the overjoyed laugh that rumbles in his chest now he's the one standing between your legs, gripping your face and pushing his lips back against your with all the passion he's been bottling up during your recovery.

✹ you smile into the kiss too, wrapping your arms securely around his neck, running your fingers up his neck and through his hair. it feels like a weight has lifted, something heavy in the back of his mind finally dissipating and allowing him to relax into your hold.

✹ the two of you break away after a moment, keeping him close to you as you press your forehead to his. "i'm sorry that i ever forgot you."

✹ "i can think of a way you can make it up to me, love…"

gaz

✹ you're so apologetic about your amnesia, it breaks his heart all over again. what's worse is that he has no idea what to do; he doesn't want to try and force you to remember, that would just stress you out more, but he wants you to remember him so desperately he feels it ache in his bones.

✹ in the end, he decides to just let things play out. he wants you to recover at your own pace, and not just because of him and how he feels about you.

✹ he also doesn't say a word about your relationship, but with how he initially reacted, he's sure you got the idea. you don't mention it either, which admittedly hurts a little, but he's sure the confusion of waking up to having a boyfriend who's name you don't even know is worse than how he feels about it.

✹ kyle vows to take care of you the moment you're discharged. he takes you to your room, shows you where everything is, makes sure you know where he is should you ever need anything, and he even introduces you to the others again.

✹ you still remember your job and how to do it so, once you're physically well enough, you get right back to it. they carry on as normal, the rest of the taskforce – assimilating you back into their nights of drinking and fucking around as if you'd never left.

✹ kyle still doesn't feel right about it.

✹ he doesn't want to treat you like glass, because you're exactly the same as when he first met you. you're still quick-witted, stubborn, and one of the toughest people he knows, you just… don't know him.

✹ it kills him on the inside, but he stays strong for you; the last thing he wants is to become the mess of a man he was when you were out, he doesn't want you to see him like that. he sorely misses spending his nights with you, and talking endlessly about your days to each other. he sends you longing glances every time you look away, wondering if you'd ever feel the same again.

✹ if you can go back to living normally, why can't he?

✹ but as the weeks go by, kyle notices how you start to withdraw, the loneliness that blocks out the light in your eyes that he loves so much. you fade into the background of conversations, sticking to listening rather than engaging.

✹ you watch them from afar, and he still knows you well enough to know what's going through your head. feeling somehow like you belong and also like an outsider at the same time, wishing you could understand the inside jokes you were a part of.

✹ he wishes more than anything that there was something he could do – make you understand that you're wanted, and you're a valuable part of the team even without your memories, but any time he brings it up you simply brush him off with that far away look in your eyes.

✹ three weeks go by before anything changes.

✹ it's the first time in a while they finally have an afternoon off, so of course they decide to spend it playing football on one of the fields within the bounds of the base. soap and ghost on one team, gaz and the captain on the other, with you spectating and keeping score on the sidelines.

✹ kyle offered to sit out if you wanted to play, but you'd brushed him off with the excuse of wanting to rest and read your book, laying out your jacket on the grass to sit on.

✹ he could tell you weren't all there, but he didn't know how to help you; so he just reassured you that you could call him over if you needed anything, and left you to guard his own jacket and water bottle before running off to join the game.

✹ the whole time he was sprinting around the field, he couldn't stop looking over to you over by the sidelines. he wasn't with it, he hadn't been since you woke up, really, and the others could tell.

✹ price abruptly calls half-time, clapping gaz on the shoulder and giving him a knowing look. "just talk to 'em, before it eats you alive." he chides, pushing him in your direction before he can think to protest.

✹ with a deep sigh and a glace backwards to the others, who shoo him away without a word, he jogs over to where you're sitting. the way the late afternoon sun hits you just right stops kyle dead in his tracks when he catches how it glows in your eyes. he feels a pull in his chest as he approaches you.

✹ you look up from your book as his shadow reaches you, shooting him a tiny smile as he drops himself next to you. he takes a swig from his water bottle as he catches his breath, extremely conscious of the way your teammates are pretending not to watch him while he comes up with the words.

✹ "so, who's winning then?" you ask, turning so you're facing him. he sees how your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes.

✹ "aren't you supposed to be keepin' score?" kyle chuckles, shifting slightly closer to you as you look away with a bashful expression. he allows your hands to brush, wanting nothing more than to lock your fingers together.

✹ "i'm not really paying attention."

✹ there's a beat of silence and that helpless feeling is back as he watches you look back out to the field, where the others are still kicking the ball back and forth.

✹ "how you doin'?" he asks, keeping his voice low as he leans in even closer to you. your mouth opens to respond, that slightly off smile back on your face, but before you can he places his hand fully over yours, giving it a comforting squeeze. "actually."

✹ you sigh, heavy and tired, and bring your gaze back over to his. "it's… hard." you begin, your eyes betraying the internal struggle. "and i'm… i know, before, we were–"

✹ he blinks and you're being sent over backwards by a football flying into your face with a smack that makes kyle's ears ring.

✹ immediately he's crouching over you, helping you sit back up and pressing the sleeve of his jacket to your nose, uncaring for the blood that stains it.

✹ "you alright?" he murmurs, gently holding your face as he inspects your nose. you nod, wincing at the movement, and take the sleeve of his jacket from him.

✹ once he's sure you're okay, his vision turns red with anger. it's pretty obvious who kicked the ball when he whips around to see soap kneeling on the ground with his head in his hands.

✹ "oi!" kyle shouts, sending him a deadly glare as he gets up. "soap, what the fuck!"

✹ the man in question looks up from his hands, an incredibly guilty look on his face. "i'm sorry pal! i dinnae ken what happened!"

✹ "just piss off, you prick!"

✹ kyle looks back to you, crouching down again with a concerned frown; but you're already looking at him, the silhouette of his own form reflected in your wide eyes. your nose is still dripping blood, but you drop his jacket and your hands to your lap anyway, mouth agape as you stare back at him.

✹ "what's wrong? are you–"

✹ you cut him off by tackling him to the ground with your arms around his neck, squeezing a surprised 'oof' from him as you land on top of his chest. one of his hands flies to your waist to steady you, the other carefully cradling your head.

✹ "i remember!" you cry, an elated laugh bubbling up as fresh tears wet your cheeks.

✹ kyle lets out a relieved laugh of his own, craning his neck to plant his lips firmly on yours with an infectious grin. in the background the others groan at the display of affection, but neither of you pay them any mind.

✹ eventually the two of you pull away, a wide smile still plastered on both of your faces as you get up from the grass. he pulls you in with the hand that still hasn't moved from your waist and leans to whisper in your ear,

✹ "fancy kickin' soap's arse?"

✹ "you read my mind."

soap

✹ johnny's enthusiastic with your recovery. anyone could've guessed that from the moment you woke up he'd be doting, eager to help you in any way you could need.

✹ yes, you didn't remember him, but be was just so ecstatic that you were okay – apart from the amnesia – that he couldn't find it in himself to be disappointed about it. you'd get your memories back soon enough, and then everything would go right back to the way it was.

✹ sometimes he gets a little carried away, forgets that while you are technically in a relationship, he's not much more than a stranger to you right now. more than once you end up having to ask him for some space because he's so incredibly touchy, and you're not sure how to handle it.

✹ you also request a temporary room to sleep in while you recover, separate from him. johnny's not sure how he feels about it.

✹ he feels that sinking feeling in his chest whenever you push him back with a hand on his chest, a polite smile tugging at your lips. it's disheartening, but he tries not to let it get to him. you'll remember soon, and then this will all be in the past.

✹ maybe you'll even laugh about it, how you could ever forget your wonderful boyfriend.

✹ he takes it upon himself to read up on amnesia, so he can better understand how to help you in any way you might need. once he learns that exposure to memories that you've lost can help your recovery, he eagerly convinces you to let him show you places that have meaning to you and your relationship with him.

✹ you agree, and he didn't actually need to do much convincing because you seem just as interested in the idea as him. he knocks on your door the following evening, offering you a single rose before whisking you away with a charming smile.

✹ he takes you on your first date all over again, with the same level of enthusiasm as before. he treats you to dinner at a relatively nice restaurant, telling you all about how the two of you got together in the first place, and memories you have together. he even orders you dessert, recalling with a chuckle how he accidentally guessed your favourite on your actual first date.

✹ once you both finish eating, he guides you by the hand to the canal for the second half of the date, a romantic moonlit stroll by the water. he pulls you close with an arm around your shoulders, meeting your eyes with a fond smile and a blush dusting his cheeks.

✹ "hold on…" you mutter, a pensive expression taking over your face as you stop walking. you turn to gaze at the water, seemingly working something out in your mind. "this… this is where gaz fell into the river that one time, right?"

✹ johnny's heart misses a beat, his eyes lighting up with renewed, excited hope as he grins at you. "you remember?"

✹ "a little, yeah," you smile, dropping your gaze and hands from his with a sorry scratch at the back of your neck. "the rest is still blank, though…"

✹ his smile falters, but he's quick to make sure you don't see his disappointment by pulling you into a reassuring hug. "that's still somethin'! you'll be good as new in nae time!"

✹ the next morning, he finds you and gaz in the rec room on one of the couches, talking animatedly with each other. that familiar shine is in your eyes, the sight johnny's been missing for the last few months. it makes his heart feel light, finally seeing you acting like your normal self again after so long.

✹ he approaches you both, watching you fondly as you talk and laugh with gaz, but his good mood is soured when you only briefly acknowledge his arrival when he sits down across from you, before resuming your conversation with gaz. his brow twitches downwards.

✹ gaz is one of your closest friends, and he’s glad you remembered him. he's happy that you got part of your memory back, even if it wasn't a part that included him.

✹ this was a good thing. you'd remember him soon, he was sure of it.

✹ a few more days pass until anything else notable happens. while you were in the gym together, you told him you felt a headache coming on, so he offered to walk you to the infirmary for some painkillers. the casual conversation you made on the way wouldn't have bothered him before, but he just couldn't shake the image of you and gaz being so comfortable, while he's still stuck on the outside.

✹ he doesn't say anything though. making you feel bad about it won't solve anything, and it's not like you're doing it on purpose, he knows you wouldn't do that to him. you were just excited to have a familiar face, that's all.

✹ while you're waiting for the medic on call, your head suddenly snaps to attention and you get that same pensive look on your face as that night by the river.

✹ "you got something?" johnny asks, bringing his hand up to rest on your upper back. he doesn't want to get his hopes up, but he can't help the way his heart flutters with optimism.

✹ you nod, a smile growing on your features. "i remember that time lt. dislocated my shoulder, and price basically forced him apologise to me," you laugh, thankfully facing away from johnny as his lips turn downwards, "god, he was pissed, it was honestly kinda funny."

✹ "what, uhm…" he lightly clears his throat, hoping you don't hear the dejection in his voice, "what about me?"

✹ you meet his eyes again with an apologetic shake of your head. "i'm sorry, soap…"

✹ "yer fine, it's–" he swallows thickly, waving you off with an exaggerated smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, "this is good, it's progress."

✹ since then, he's given you more space. it's clear to him that his efforts aren't helping you remember him, it actually feels like it's having the opposite effect. of course, he's glad you remember your friends, but you still don't remember him – your own boyfriend.

✹ it's wrong, and he knows it is, but he's jealous.

✹ he has to watch you carry on like usual, without him. you haven't set foot in the room you used to share together since before you were comatose. he's done his best to disguise how much it hurts, but it still annoys him how no one else seems to notice how wrong it all is. the others don't need you like he does, they don't lay awake at night going over every moment, treasuring the time you called him yours, yearning with every fibre of his being to go back.

✹ it's been a month and a half since you woke up, six weeks of being so close yet so unbearably far from you. he prays to any god that will listen to bring you back to him, allow him to hold you in his arms once more, but nothing ever changes.

✹ the thread he's been hanging on by ever since you went down on that mission gone wrong is one more bad day away from snapping.

✹ he's approached by gaz one morning, while waiting for the others to begin training, who takes it upon himself to ask johnny about how you're recovering. when gaz teases him about how he was the first person you remembered, and johnny thinks he might just strangle him.

✹ "careful, soap, i might steal 'em away," gaz laughs, patting his shoulder with a camaraderie soap scoffs at.

✹ "shut the fuck up." he snarls, his face bunched in a strikingly out of character scowl. his hands twitch at his sides, nails digging painfully into his palms.

✹ gaz blinks, his eyebrows shooting up, clearly taken aback by the hostility from his friend. "alright, i was only jokin', mate."

✹ "aye, well, i'm nae laughin'."

✹ the tension is stifling. he can tell gaz wants to say something more, but he holds his tongue – too worried about upsetting soap any further.

✹ they stand in silence with each other like that for a while, gaz watching him from the corner of his eye while he keeps his gaze firmly on the grass below him.

✹ thankfully, after not too long the uneasy atmosphere is interrupted by a shout from the direction of the building, "johnny!"

✹ his head snaps to attention to see you, grinning uncontrollably and sprinting towards him at full speed.

✹ "wha–" he's caught off guard by how you leap into his arms, hooking your arms around his neck as he stumbles backwards in surprise.

✹ before he has time to question your actions, you're smashing your lips against his in a searing kiss that has johnny's head spinning. he wastes no time in reciprocating, securing one arm around your waist and bringing the other to the back of your head, using it you press you impossibly closer to him as he groans into your mouth.

✹ you reluctantly pull away, just enough to take a shaky breath, but johnny's had stays put on the back of your head. "i'm sorry i forgot, i'm sorry…" you mumble against his lips, dragging your fingers through the unkempt hair of his mohawk.

✹ he drops his head into the juncture of you neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply the scent of you that he's gone so long without. he laughs into you, slightly delirious and just so overjoyed to have you in his arms again that feels his eyes sting with tears.

✹ "i've missed you, bonnie," he chuckles wetly, pressing his lips back to yours in another desperate kiss, "i've missed you so much,"

✹ "i'll never forget you again."

ghost

✹ he avoids you like the plague.

✹ or he tries to, at least. but truth be told, after spending so much time learning to be vulnerable around you and allowing you into his guarded heart, it's difficult to go back to being a stranger to you.

✹ that, and he doesn't actually want to.

✹ but he needs to. being around you, the love of his life, knowing that you don't remember him, it's like a knife stuck between his ribs. any time he's in the same room as you he finds himself fighting the urge to grab your hand, or press his forehead against you.

✹ he knows you don't want him anymore, the last thing you deserve is a giant of a man – who you're clearly afraid of, even if you won't say it – hanging around you like a shadow.

✹ you're still kind to him, because of course you are, checking in on him and trying to talk to him any opportunity you get. it's nice, sometimes he can even pretend everything is normal when he shares a laugh with you, but then he sees the hesitance in your eyes and he's brought back to the cold reality of the situation.

✹ the weeks drag like this, every fleeting look from you another bleeding wound on his heart.

✹ he keeps it together surprisingly well, all things considered, but the breaking point comes when you find him having a smoke one night, on a bench just outside the barracks.

✹ "simon?" your voice cuts through the silence, his eyes snapping to you as you sit down next to him. he takes another long drag from his cigarette as he watches you, uncertainty in your voice as you continue, "can you tell me about… me? and us?"

✹ no matter how much he thinks he should, he can't look away from your pleading gaze.

✹ "we… you're everything to me," simon mutters, dropping his cigarette and putting it out with the heel of his boot, "i've never felt the way i do with you before, you've helped me more than you could ever know…"

✹ his vision blurs with unshed tears. the sadness on your face starts and ache in his heart, the desire to take you into his arms and just hold you making his skin bristle.

✹ "you don't have to feel the same way, but…" he pulls the balaclava from his head, setting it on the bench in the space between you, bearing his face to you like he always does, "even if you never get your memory back, i'll always love you."

✹ the way you look at him makes it so incredibly difficult not to cry. your eyes are glassy and far away, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth with an expression that screams guilt – but it's not your fault, and he'd never blame you.

✹ you open your mouth to say something, but the words never materialise. the night stays silent, and simon expects it, but it still makes his bones ache with a heaviness that he knows he can't shake.

✹ he stands, picking up his balaclava, and walks quietly past you to the barracks door. there's no fleeting look, not this time. he disappears to his room without another word.

✹ he's not sure how much later it is when he hears a knock on his door. minutes, hours, it didn't matter. it all blends together now.

✹ when he doesn't bother to answer, whoever it is lets themselves in, shutting the door gently behind themselves. he sits up with the intention of chewing them out, but when he opens his eyes they land on your form, curled in on yourself and shuffling quickly over to him.

✹ you're here, in his room, with a face that looks like you've been crying for hours, puffy and tear-stained with bloodshot eyes.

✹ he almost thinks he's dreaming, but the warmth as you wrap your arms around him and bring his face to your chest is too real, too familiar. he brings his arms up around your waist, releasing a shaky sigh into your skin as he squeezes you tighter against him.

✹ a few hot tears meet the top of his head as you whisper to him the words he's been waiting, longing to hear, rocking gently from side to side.

✹ "i remember, si."

✹ it feels like he can finally rest, like the state of being he's been living in for the last few months melts away with your touch and he feels safe again.

✹ with his grip around your waist, he hoists you onto his bed to lay back down with him, holding you tightly against his chest, your heart right beside his own racing one.

✹ you cradle his face again, pressing your lips to his face over and over, touching every inch of him with your love.

✹ "i'm sorry…" you whisper like a mantra, punctuating every kiss with an apology that makes his throat constrict with the raw emotion he feels. "i'm sorry,"

✹ "don't be…" he mirrors how you hold his face, tangling his legs with yours as he captures your mouth and pours every ounce of passion he has into the way he kisses you. "don't be, love."

4K notes · View notes