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#its stop sign day y’all
wesstars · 5 months
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can't rely on my heart
wednesday addams x fem!reader (no pronouns)
summary: are people more likely to tell the truth while they’re drunk? wc: 800 tags: all characters involved are 18+. AU, they’re in some big city. wednesday and reader are childhood ‘friends.’ unresolved tension!!! a/n: i miss y’all 😭hope everyone is doing well!! welcome to another wednesday wednesday with the most amazing @evilwednesday. special good morning to @mindyswhore. @melrodrigo told me to hurry up haha. (let’s just ignore how I missed last week okay)
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1:28 am
come get your bitch.
Wednesday frowned at Yoko’s text. She wondered, briefly, who “your bitch” could ever be—unbidden, your grinning face came to mind, shining bright as a dying star. Wednesday hated it. It was stuff like this, knowing that your friends would ask Wednesday, of all people, to come pick you up, that was intolerable. Always popular yet with a genuine charm, you commanded attention wherever you were, so warm and dazzling that you eclipsed everything around you. You consistently crossed the line with Wednesday, since you really never knew when to stop. Rolling her eyes, she grabbed her car keys.
***
You were giggling. It was insufferable: it had already been enough to go to the bar—a place with sticky floors that Wednesday turned her nose up at—and it was excruciating to have dragged you out, catching you from rolling your ankle on the pavement, so your glittering laugh really was the worst torture Wednesday was willing to endure. Yoko had pushed you unceremoniously into Wednesday, while Enid sent her a sympathetic glance and a promise to text. Wednesday was torn between keeping her distance, so you wouldn’t throw up on her shoes, and holding you upright so you wouldn’t cause a scene, but you made her decision for her.
“You’re so—sloppy,” Wednesday hissed, grabbing your elbow to stop you from careening into a pedestrian. You’d always been a lightweight, since your university days, where you’d always show up, drunk as a dog, knocking at Wednesday and Enid’s place. You would claim that you lost your address. It wasn’t uncommon for you to be over there at all, every little quirk you had being memorized by the apartment: your mug, your spare key, your book on how the biggest planets are made of the very same things that humans are. 
“Wednesday,” you said, leaning on her shoulder. She wrinkled her nose. “Wednesday, Wednesday, Wednesday… 
She scoffed. “Just be quiet.”
“I don’t want to,” you whined, being the absolute child that Wednesday thought you were. She let go of your arm, stalking towards her car without you. While she definitely thought of you as someone she could do without babysitting, she still looked back to make sure you were following. You were tracing your crooked path on the sidewalk, scuffing your shoes as you trailed your fingers on every streetlight and sign pole that you passed. Something licked its way through Wednesday’s veins, destructive like fire.
“You…” Wednesday ignored you. Why had she parked so far? The sooner you crashed on her couch, the sooner you’d leave her alone. 
“You, with that beautiful smile—” gods, just how many drinks did you have?—“Hold on.” 
“I don’t smile.” Wednesday waited, for some reason, as you stumbled forward, catching up to her while the drinks caught up to you.
Ignoring her, you whispered, “I have something to say to you,” showing all your teeth in a dopey smile. When you leaned in, Wednesday saw how the shine of the streetlights caught on your rosy cheeks, glowing.
“You’re even prettier when you’re all the way here, with me, not just in my head.”
Wednesday felt her dead, still heart jolt with an artificial electricity, as if you’d pressed both hands to her chest and yelled clear! It was a startlingly alive experience, being touched by such a startlingly alive person. Every breath was hard to take, as you looked down. The streetlight cast a warm glow, lighting up your outline. You smelled too much like alcohol for such an admission, one where she could feel the cold metal of your arrow, Apollo ablaze, press up against her ribs.
It was weird, how one never really does know the answer to an unspoken question until it was right in front of them, burning. 
“You’re not going to remember this,” Wednesday said quietly. “I’m telling you now, so you can understand why.” She looked into your eyes; they were surprisingly clear for someone so inebriated. 
Your voice was a whisper, nearly drowned out by a car rushing past. “Why what?”
Wednesday looked up at you. You’d stopped right in front of her car, an accuracy unbecoming of how drunk you seemed to be. She placed a hand on you, your shoulder this time, and yanked you down to her height. You were so close, now, your nose brushing hers, and she felt you take a breath. “Why I don’t mind you being this close.” She hoped you could smell the jasmine perfume she wore. “Why I don’t mind when you cross the line.” Your hair fell into your eyes. “Why I’m driving you home.”
She stepped back, opening the car door and shoving you in. You leaned your temple on the seat, head tilted back to meet her eyes.
“I know, Wednesday.”
--
a/n cont'd: something something yearning something something
please do not repost, reproduce, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way. thank you!
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heartsforhavik · 3 months
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sugar daddy! johnny cage x reader hcs
warnings: established relationship, gender neutral reader, slight angst if you squint
summary: sfw hcs of johnny cage being a sugar daddy in your relationship
a/n: howdy y’all. guess what. i wrote this outta nowhere cuz i saw someone thirsting for a sugar daddy johnny sooooo. here we are. i love writing this goofy goober hes so silly. sorry for all my late updates these days btw. ive had this in my drafts for weeks istg.
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- dating a rich dude has its perks. like being spoiled 24/7!
- johnny doesn’t have a specific love language. but if he had to have one, it would be gift giving.
- it’s not *just* because he has the financial stability to do so, but he loves showing off his knowledge of your taste by giving you gifts catered towards your interests.
- if you ever happen to dislike something he got, even if you hid your disapproval, johnny would immediately notice and replace it. only the best for his beloved!
- he probably would notice right away if you didn’t like something. you don’t show it with your face, but he can just *tell* sometimes. it’s like a gut feeling to him. spidey senses, even. sugar daddy senses.
- “johnny, there’s no need to waste your time returning it. i like it, i swear!”
- “no you don’t. but no worries, honey. i’ll be back in a jiffy! i’ll come back with an even better gift. a gift so good, it’ll change your life! trust me.”
- if you ever mention that you like something, johnny would be searching for it in every store he enters and he would spend hours looking it up online. he wouldn’t just buy *all* the stuff he sees for you, he must find only the best of the best for you.
- let’s say you mentioned that you liked ducks one time. that night before going to sleep in your shared bed, johnny would turn away from you and he’d search all over the internet for anything with ducks on it. or a giant duck plush. you would try to look over his shoulder to see what he’s searching for, but he’d childishly wiggle his finger in front of your face and say “no peeking!”
- expect large packages to show up at your door every day. johnny loves online shopping, and you’d have to pry his phone away from his fingers to stop his addiction.
- 90% of the packages aren’t even for him. most of it is for you. clothes he thinks would look great on you and show off your body, accessories you showed the slightest bit of interest in, or cds/vinyl of your favorite artists (some are even signed, thanks to johnny’s connections.)
- he doesn’t want you to pay him back. johnny spoils you because he loves you. he is fully aware that he doesn’t have to. it’s just his way of showing that he loves you and he can provide for you for the rest of your life, if you’d let him.
- you don’t even have to lift a single finger! let him buy you clothes and food and other necessities, he loves doing so.
- no matter how badly you wish to pay him back, johnny would not let you. he doesn’t want you to pay him back as if it’s debt. all he wants in return is your affection and validation.
- he would never admit it, but he craves validation from you all the time. he lost his ex-wife because he was so caught up in the money and fame in his life, and he doesn’t want to repeat history. if he ever accidentally overwhelmed you with his job or money, he would feel extremely guilty about it. it’s pretty much his greatest fear.
- overall, johnny loves spoiling you. you’re such a sweet and precious thing, so of course he must treat you well! you deserve the greatest luxuries he can provide, whether you asked for it or not. if you ever ask for anything, don’t feel like a brat, he wouldn’t mind! in fact, he would love to grant your wishes every time you ask for a certain gift. if not, no worries. he can learn your likes and dislikes the longer you’re together, no need to tell him what you want. he’ll figure it out.
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lunarfleur · 9 months
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I Just Had To Check ~ Earth 42! Miles Morales
Warnings:Blood, mentions of fighting, mention of a gun being used
Tagging: @juneberrie @sluggmuffin @hiyaitssans
A/N: Y’all I pulled this outta my ass idek where it came from, so if this is bad I’m sorry 😟
This is x gender neutral reader
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Miles woke them up with a knock on their window. His mask and claws had been slipped into his bag, now only wearing his costumes.
When they opened the window, the first thing they noticed was how out of breath he was. He was panting, eyeing them nervously before they let him step in.
“Miles?” They asked, despite knowing it was him. He set his bag down on the floor with a quiet thump and sucked in a breath. Y/N was met with Miles’s arms enveloping their body, his face being shoved into their neck. They brought their hand to the back of his neck, scratching gently.
“Hey, what’s up?” They asked. They didn’t get an answer, though. At least, not until they heard the quietest, most painful sobs escaping him. In the entire time they had been dating, that was the one thing he never did. They had never seen Miles cry.
“C’mere, sit down,” they mumbled, leading him over to the edge of their bed. Miles didn’t let go. He only held on tighter.
Any and all embarrassment Miles would have-should have-felt for crying disappeared the minute his arms found them. It had been so long since he’d done it, it was making his face hurt.
Miles pulled away a second later-tears still free falling down his cheeks. He pressed his forehead to their’s, grabbing their hands and squeezing.
“What’s going on, Miles?”
Y/N’s hands found his face, tender hands wiping his tears. His face was contorted into one of discomfort, the clearest sign of just how long it had been.
“I just had to check,” he whimpered, “I had to see you.” Miles pressed shaky kisses to Y/N’s lips, which they gladly returned.
A mere, short 2 minutes later, his tears had stopped. Miles’s hands were no longer trembling, his shoulders no longer shaking.
“You should change,” they whispered to him. Truthfully, he didn’t want to. He was perfectly comfortable where he was.
But Y/N, much to Miles’s dismay, got up. Searching through their room to find the clothes they stole from him. Sweatpants and a t-shirt.
Wiping his face, Miles got up. He took the clothes from their hands, not even bothering to leave the room before he was slipping his shirt off. Y/N stared at the scratches that littered his back and arms, obviously fresh. It gave them only the slightest idea why he was there.
He walked back over quickly, laying his head in their lap. One arm wrapped around their waist, the other hand resting gently on their thigh. They held his one hand, rubbing the skin soothingly with their thumb. The other hand returned to the back of his neck, the one place that never failed to relax him.
“You wanna talk about it?” They suggested.
“He had a gun,” Miles mumbled. “He was gonna shoot me.”
“Oh.”
“I keep having this dream,” he continued, “any time we fight, that I die letting you think I hate you.” His breath hitched under his own words. Miles fidgeted with the hem of the shirt you were wearing, his shirt.
“I don’t think you hate me,” Y/N whispered, eyebrows furrowing tightly.
“But you might, one day.”
“That’s never gonna happen.”
A brief silence hit the room.
“I ain’t ever gonna hate you, you know that, right?”
“I know.”
“And I love you more than anything. You know that, too, right?”
“I know. I love you just as much.”
Sitting up, Miles pulled Y/N closer into him. He peppered kisses around their face and around their jaw. They snickered quietly, pushing his face away to look him in the eyes. A smile forced its way onto Miles’s lips, his forehead bumping against theirs gently.
“Kiss?” He asked.
They were more than happy to oblige.
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python333 · 7 months
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task force 141 reacting to [reader] clinging to them — python333
— — — —
synopsis just as the title says bb!! just some headcanons of the boys reacting to the reader clinging to them and basically following them around like a lost puppy!
relationships platonic!tf141 & reader.
characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.
warnings written in 2nd person pov [you/your/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign], non-scottish reader [or could be read as scottish with less of an accent], probably ooc :{
note this is so. self indulgent. BUT i need to get my thoughts out rn about these boys because its too much to contain my silly little brain won't let this go and i need to just hdjhsdfjdhj. if anyone wants to request something for me to write pls do it because this is the only thing thats gotten me out of my writers block.
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JOHN "BRAVO SIX" PRICE
➥ i honestly don’t even think he’d notice at first.
➥ about a week after you’d gotten to know everyone on the team and started to get used to their quirks, you decide your target to cling onto is gonna be price… because why not?
➥ when i say cling i mean following him around like a lost puppy, just about watching his every move, basically being his shadow.
➥ it’s not until about three days of you doing this when he realizes you’re shadowing him.
➥ when he confronts you about it, it’s less of a confrontation and more like him saying “... do you need something?” and then brushing it off when you shake your head ‘no’.
➥ he’s not really irritated or angry about it, more confused but generally okay with it.
➥ so when he realizes you’re gonna be doing this often, he can’t tell whether he should feel honored or bothered.
➥ spoilers: he ends up feeling honored. it’s his fatherly instincts, y’all already know.
➥ he’s awkward about it at first, now that he actually knows you’re following him, he’s constantly checking over his shoulder and — yep, you’re still there.
➥ so he doesn’t confront you about it again, and just lets you follow him around, and once y’all get closer he teases you for following him around like a duckling would with its mother.
You’d been following Price around for a few days now. He hadn’t noticed so far, thank God, but he was definitely close to finding out. You could see the way he’d occasionally glance over his shoulder and see you following him, then keep eye contact with you for a moment before going on with his day — which really confused you at first, but who cares as long as he’s not stopping you? — and letting you follow him.
You had been following him out of habit. You didn’t mean to follow him in particular, it just… happened. Something about his demeanor, you’d convinced yourself, He just feels safe. It’s inexplicable and we will not be diving into my underlying issues to figure out why he feels safe.
So when he’d confronted you about it—or, asked you about it is probably more accurate—with a questioning tone and the words, “Did you need something?”, you shook your head ‘no’, and that was that. The older man had looked at you for another second, eyes looking over your expression as if trying to read you like a book, then went on with his day. You had let out a sigh of relief, and continued your little routine of following him around and being his little shadow.
JOHN ���SOAP” MACTAVISH
➥ he’s such a silly guy, man.
➥ he’d notice but pretend he didn’t, just for the sake of seeing how long you’ll follow him.
➥ if anyone points out your presence he’ll ignore it and change the subject.
➥ of course, once he realizes you aren’t letting up your clinginess, he confronts you about it in the most professional way possible!
➥ “Do ye trail everyone ‘round like that, or am I jist special?”
➥ it takes you a moment to figure out what he just said because holy fuck that accent is THICK.
➥ but you figure it out after a quick moment of thinking and struggle to respond, before offering a quiet, “... Uh. I guess you’re just special?”
➥ he is very happy about this.
➥ he nods approvingly and goes on with his day, letting you trail behind him.
➥ he really doesn’t mind, and actually enjoys having you trail behind him.
Following around Soap was more of a challenge than you’d intended. It was fun, for the most part, and you liked that he didn’t acknowledge you at all. The main reason you had kept following him was because he didn’t bother you at all, and didn’t even glance back at you as you followed him, no, he simply let you follow him around and shadow him all day.
Of course, you still had training and practice, but the moment you had gotten out of the showers and were done for the day, you’d gone back to following Soap, once you’d found him. Your daily routine was basically: wake up, eat breakfast, follow Soap, go to the training room and follow your CO’s orders, shower and eat lunch or dinner, find Soap, follow Soap, sleep, repeat.
Then one day, on a particularly idle day, Soap had turned to you and popped the question — “Do ye trail everyone ‘round like this, or am I jist special?”
Maybe you were just being dramatic, but holy fuck , his accent made it almost sound like he was speaking a whole different language. You process his words for a moment, before responding with a quiet, “Uh… I guess you’re just special?”
He seemed pretty satisfied with that answer and never really bothered you with it again.
SIMON “GHOST” RILEY
➥ he realizes immediately and ohhh boyyyyyy.
➥ “Do you need something?” “Did you need something?” “Why are you following me?” “Stop following me.” “Do you need something?”
➥ he is. Very bothered.
➥ constantly looking over his shoulder just to find your annoying ass following him.
➥ will always ask you why you’re following him, and when you shrug or give a bullshit excuse, he gives an exasperated sigh and goes on with his day.
➥ sometimes he’d even try to lose you in the crowd, and when you miraculously continue to follow him through it, he’d somehow become even more miserable. it’s impressive, your dedication to following him around like this.
➥ he’ll warm up to it eventually, maybe a month or two after you’ve started following him.
➥ by month one he’ll stop constantly asking you why you’re following him, and by month two he’ll stop constantly glancing over his shoulder.
➥ and eventually, he’ll stop trying to lose you in the crowds, and instead look for the easiest way to get through them with you trailing behind him.
Ghost should’ve known from the moment you persisted with your following of him through thick and thin that you’d never give this up. Honestly, it’s impressive how dedicated you are to trailing behind him like a little shadow, never even speaking to him, just following him.
However, Ghost could persist as well.
You’d follow him around as much as possible, starting at the break of dawn and briefly pausing your following to do whatever training your CO instructed and then resuming your following till curfew. Day after day, Ghost would interrupt your following by questioning it, then when given an answer, he’d give an exasperated sigh and storm off, not waiting for you to catch up.
At first, he thought you wanted to win over some sort of attention or affection from him. So, he made sure not to give you any. He didn’t spare a single moment for you, besides glancing at you over his shoulder and questioning your presence, and yet you continued to follow him. So he experimented with it a bit — he didn’t spare a single glance at you one day, didn’t speak to you one bit, didn’t do anything. Just went around as if you weren’t there. And yet, you continued to follow him, not put off by his behavior at all.
So, he just stopped thinking too much about you, in the nicest way possible. He wouldn’t glance back at you and question your presence, but he also wouldn’t try and lose you around the base. He wouldn’t storm off and leave you running to catch up. Sometimes, he even forgets you’re there at all. He warms up to it, albeit after a few months, but he still warms up to it nonetheless.
KYLE “GAZ” GARRICK
➥ i think he’d notice fairly quickly but wouldn’t point it out right away.
➥ like, he’d glance over his shoulder and see you following him, but gaslights himself into thinking you’re just trying to get to the same place he is, so he doesn’t confront you about it or anything.
➥ so when he realizes that you’re following him and not just trying to get to the same place he is, he’s kind of weirded out, but still doesn’t confront you.
➥ he’ll ask soap for some help on what to do and the damn idiot just goes ‘[c/n] probably has a crush on you’ so now gaz thinks you have a crush on him.
➥ i mean, he’s flattered, but also he has no idea who you are, so…
➥ he’s now even more awkward.
➥ so then he goes to price for help,
➥ and price is just a tinge more reasonable.
➥ price tells gaz that you’re probably just shadowing him because you see him as some sort of mentor, or maybe there was someone in your past that was similar to gaz and you followed them around as well.
➥ his reasoning doesn’t help all that much, because what the fuck is gaz supposed to do with that, but whatever.
➥ he really doesn’t know what to do about you, to be honest.
➥ after way too long, he asks you why you’re following him.
➥ and when you shrug or give an excuse as to why you’ve been trailing behind him ever since you’ve gotten here, he shrugs back and goes on with his day.
➥ doesn’t mind all that much, so yippee!!
➥ eventually, when you two get closer, he tells you that you can walk by his side instead of behind him.
Making Gaz your target was probably the best idea you’ve ever had.
He’s pretty quiet, doesn’t actively try to get you to go away, and best of all, he really just walks around and does any tasks he needs to. It’s oddly nice, just watching him do his work. He doesn’t talk to himself under his breath like Soap or Price does, and doesn’t do his work in complete silence like Ghost does. He’ll often hum to himself or whistle, a noise that’s quickly become weirdly comforting to you.
It’s kind of disappointing realizing you have to go off to training, honestly. Following Gaz around has quickly become the pinnacle of your day. Which sounds really sad now that you think of it, but who cares.
About a month of you following him later, he finally asks you why you’re following him. In the nicest way possible, of course.
“Is there a reason you’ve been following me around all month?”
When you shrug or give an excuse for your actions, he thinks about your words (or your wordless shrug) for a moment and mutters a quiet, “Alright, then,” and goes on with his day.
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icedcinnamonmilf · 8 months
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Thinking about big dick Toji
Warnings: Masturbation mentioned, unprotected sex (Don’t be dumb..Wrap it up), Breeding kink,pet names (Daddy, Mommy,baby,Slut) and more. F!reader x Dilf!Toji
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Toji always keeps his words just like he keeps his dick inside you. Both of y’all ended up in the bedroom, sex in the air, moan-whimpers and groans filling up the room trying not to be loud and wake megumi up. Toji dick going in and out your sticky walls his tip kissing your cervix. Your moans is music to his ears, he love the way you try not to moan but end up moaning. Toji going deeper and deeper wile one hand on your hip and the other one on your head forcing your head down in the pillow. It wasn’t working as much, Toji can still hear your little moans. “Omg… Toji mmhm right there baby..Don’t stop” your words dragging sounding like mumbling. That was a sign for toji to go faster “You don’t want daddy to stop do ya slut??Tell me you my slutty whore!! Let me ah-shit..Let me hear ya baby” those words sinking in “I’m your … your slutty whore daddy, ohh m’gonna cum daddy..gonna cum” your words kinda stumble but it got across.The only thing that matters is Toji not pulling out “How would you like walking around with my fucking baby in that round belly of yours huh? You want me to cum in this pretty tight pussy?You want that mommy?ohhh shit..” his groans so fucking attractive you can hear it all day. “Yess Daddy please cum in me daddy, i-I want your your babies Zaddy pleaaasssseee Ahh so good daddy” The moment you thought about what you said at that moment of toji milking you up, you never regretted.
But its a month later and you’re in the bathroom taking a pregnancy test wile toji looking at you crying wile he has that stupid grin.
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moxfirefly · 1 month
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Greetings and salutations. I bring you a little nugget of something that’s been on my noggin for a while. I haven’t had the pleasure to experiment too much with AU’s so here I bring you two segments of just that.
Rated Mature.
So please enjoy and let me know if maybe y’all want more?
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It was that scar.
You hadn’t been necessarily subtle about it. You’d stared, wondered what could’ve gone wrong to have a man nearly lose an eye.
You liked making up stories of strangers, what their backstory and futures could be just on looks alone.
But when blue eyes had met your own, looked up from the local news paper, you felt as if he’d heard your mental fictions.
He was pretty.
Blue eyes, strong features and built.
Because mutants tended to be built, imposing, rough, dangerous.
But there was a softness to Blue Eyes here.
Somewhere between restarting your brain and the soft rattling of him pushing his mug towards your outstretched hand, you had finally poured a re-fill of a lemony scented tea he had ordered twenty minutes ago.
The cafe was a passion project, something you’d done on impulse when you hopped on a plane to run away from New York and its hollowness and move to Osaka.
To run away from the bad memories…
A bad guy.
“Are you alright?” Oh? He spoke English.
You nodded, dipped the kettle and refilled his mug. “Sorry, mornings aren’t really my thing.” You chuckled to lighten the mood, watched the corner of his mouth lift as he reached for the mug.
“Working in a cafe must’ve been a tough option.” His lips pressed to the ceramic, a large hand holding it as he softly blew.
The peak of a finger missing an inch to it making you squint.
Just how many scars could one individual have?
But he had looked at you again, piercing blue eyes gaging your thoughts, somehow digging into what your story was. Maybe he had made up his own.
You should’ve known, should’ve seen the tattoos peaking from the cuff of his dress shirt, the roughness to his demeanor.
You should’ve sensed the danger.
________
You ran from danger back in New York only to somehow find yourself enchanted by something far worse.
Because Leonardo (he had introduced himself at long last) screamed dangerous.
But he kept coming back to the cafe, each day he stayed just a little bit longer, his small talk became more of a lighthearted interrogation.
And those damn eyes of his never seemed to not follow you around the counter as you prepared and brewed for the patrons of the morning. His eyes were watchful, something kind of protective to them. Whenever the bell for the door ran he’d always cast a careful backwards glance.
Anticipating something?
He seemed to travel on the edge of a knife, waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop.
And you wanted to ignore the obvious, the setting, the place, the fresh cuts and bruises on his hands. You wanted the fantasy to remain just that.
Because deep down you knew that he ran in that lifestyle.
Yakuza.
It rang like an alarm in your brain, warning sirens to not get involved, to not find yourself in the fire pit.
One afternoon as he remained during your closing, he had stood up and adjusted the cuff of his suit.
“Do you wanna have dinner with me tonight?”
It was a simple question, a razors edge to it, the anticipation mixing with water running from the sink. You had stopped, hand sopping wet from washing mugs and glasses.
You stared at him, watching those calculating eyes of his gage your reaction.
That little voice told you to say no, desperately to just let this be a fleeting thing. Let Leonardo be a fantasy, don’t jump into that dark ocean and let the current sweep you away.
“Yes…I’d like that.”
‘These violent delights…’
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It felt more like a light version of Wack-a-Mole. Gently but intentionally shoving all these screaming adolescents and young adults away from the object of their desire.
You waved and smiled, signed what you could when several high glossy portraits of yourself were shoved into your eyesight. A massive arm wrapped around your shoulders and tugged you into hard scales and you caught the warning glare Raph had shot to a handsy guy.
‘Just get her to the hotel entrance’ That was all Raph was thinking, if he could haul ass with you through this sea of screaming fans in the next sixty seconds he’d pat himself on the shell.
So he held you closer, pushed through and as gently and professionally as he could pushed through the doable doors.
Hotel security could keep everyone at bay, your poor assistance somehow alive and inside as well moved quickly to the front desk to check you in.
“Never get tired of that shit?” he asked you with a smirk, making sure to keep your body covered by his much larger form.
“Just part of the job description, some of them can be endearing.” You adjusted your sunglasses, shooting a thanks to your assistant when they jogged back towards you with a room card.
“Y/N you have an interview tomorrow at 9am so there’s a 7am wake up call for hair and makeup to get up to your room. After that it’s the photo shoot at noon and finally the concert at MSG, I’ll be here early to get everything started.” They were an efficient assistant sometimes doubling more like a parent.
“She got time to sleep somewhere in there peepsqueak?” Raph was already escorting you towards the elevator. Your assistant rolled their eyes.
“Be nice Raphie, they keep the order, I just do the fun stuff.” You waved back as you climbed into the elevator with Raph.
In the quiet steel and glass you took a minute to sigh and stretch. While it was fun it could be pretty exhausting running around from show to show. You felt your phone vibrate, the work one, and allowed yourself the luxury of not dealing with it. Closing your eyes briefly you centered yourself.
“Ya good?” Raph’s voice, the soft one he only reserved for you, mixed with the ping of each floor.
“A little stiff, but I’m alright. What about you?” You watched Raph huff a little laugh, incredulous to assume that this was enough to even remotely tire him out. When the doors open he stepped out first to make sure the halls were empty before alerting you to follow suit.
“You know you can chill out now, clock out technically.” You opened the door to your latest hotel suit and watched Raph go in and do his usual perimeter walk.
One time some obsessed fan had hidden in the suit you had stayed in, and while it hadn’t been a violent situation it had spooked you and angered Raph enough to always check the room before letting you settle in.
“Looks clear, although C- for not having those chocolates on the bed.” Man he kinda wanted something sweet.
He smiled at your laugh watching you plop on the chase lounge near the window.
He could feel his own phone, not the work one, vibrate in the pocket of his jeans.
“Do you want to stay?” Came your voice, light and floaty like an inviting drink.
Raph knew this wasn’t exactly right, but it hadn’t been right the last fourteen hotels ago.
You turned to study him, a flirtatious smile spreading across your beautiful lips.
Those lips had been around his dick last night on the limo ride to some after party.
Something in the jittery electric feel of his legs, urging him to move, to put an end to this not so professional relationship.
“Raphie?” You asked, jacket coming off, heels being kicked off, skin inviting him.
He ran the back of his palm across his mouth, caught the faint scent of you from just this morning (where he had fingered you in the shower of the last hotel).
“Yeah, I’ll stay.”
He swallowed the nerves, swallowed it and let it simmer in the pit of his stomach.
149 notes · View notes
berriweb · 9 months
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╰┈➤ ❝ the end of all things ❞
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: ̗̀➛ ft. miles morales x reader
: ̗̀➛ warnings. some descriptions of injuries, just mentions of blood and someone dying
: ̗̀➛ part three / part five (w.i.p)
: ̗̀➛ a/n. how do I explain to y’all thay the reason this part took so long is because Ive been wasting away reading venom fanfics for days???? trick question, i just did
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3:00 PM
The ticking of the clock on the way was the only thing keeping Miles grounded as he scribbled away on his paper.
Well…that, and you.
The lack of interest was prominent in his body language, hunched over the desk and peering at the paper through laugh lidded eyes with gravity tugging at the ends of his lips. The work only seemed to get easier and easier for him. The majority of class he would spend finding ways to buy time and entertain himself long enough to take up most of the lecture and class time spent working. If he timed it right, he’d avoid being seen as a try hard for turning in his paper too earlier or a slacker for waiting until the last minute to turn it in. During that time where he’d mindlessly find new tasks to keep his mind running is when his true distraction would come into play: you.
Or at least the one he knew anyway.
Thunk.
Pausing just as he’d finished shading in the eyes on his doodle, Miles sat up and looked around to find the object that’d collided with his forearm and drawn in his attention. When he noticed the culprit, a balled up piece of notebook paper now sitting idly next to his foot on the floor, he discreetly reached down to scoop it up and smoothed out the crumpled paper.
‘i can tell your mom redid your braids. they look good on you ;)’
Miles hoped he’d angled his head low enough to hide the dopey smile that crossed his face as he read the note, recomposing himself before he grabbed a pencil to scribble underneath the writing.
‘Gotta look fresh for our date, can’t be out here looking rough for you.’
He folded the paper up, using the straight edge of his folder to crease the paper before holding it up to examine the neatly folded paper airplane he’d created. After deeming his work good enough to send out, Miles turned back in his seat. His eyes scanned the classroom to check for wandering eyes or any sign of the teacher noticing his shenanigans, only to meet a familiar pair of eyes trained on him from across the room in the back, hidden away just far enough in the corner of the classroom.
He craned his arm back, and with a swift through sent the paper airplane flying in her direction, watching it gracefully float through the air before slowing to a stop just before it reached her desk. He winced for a moment, watching it slowly begin to descend towards the classmate sitting just in front of her, only for a sigh of relief to leave his lips when she stood and snatched it out of the air just before it landed on his desk, shooting him a confident smile and a thumbs up.
Miles turned back in his seat, leaning down to mimic his posture when working on his assignment, but his eyes pulled back to watching her open up the note, eyes scanning the paper before she gingerly smiled and looked up. Glancing from over his shoulders, he shot her a wink and flashed a smile only to turn away, returning to his paper before he could see your reaction to it.
Unbeknownst to him, from just afar on an empty desk that would’ve been preoccupied by a classmate who’d been absent that day, a small arachnid slowly climbed its way onto the top of the desk. It skittered across the smooth wood, the seemingly dead set path it was following towards Miles, as prominent as the 42 cleanly shown on its backside, being cut short when a portal open, small enough to swallow the spider whole without gaining much attention.
From the corner of his eye, Miles noticed a flash and turned his head in the direction of the distraction, only to shrug and return to his doodles when he saw nothing worth taking note of, missing the return of the spider as it reappeared moments later. Only this time, it dawned a new number. The spider turned and abandoned Miles, eyes now set on the target sitting in the corner of the classroom.
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“42.”
The number indicating their initial success was the first thing that left the doctors mouth as the matter around the portal shriveled and disappeared.
In front of them sat two empty glass containers, sealed and displayed just underneath the machine. Using her middle and ring finger to push her glasses up the bridge of her nose, she leaned down to marvel at the sight of the small, hazardous spider now frantically crawling around from inside the tube. Beside it, the matching glass tube was now empty, a mark of a new beginning.
She shot up without warning, consequently smacking her partner right in the nose with an accidentally head butt she didn’t even seem to notice.
“Jesus, Liv- my nose-”
The scientists hands covered his nose while groaning and grounding himself to remain upright as Olivia practically pounced on him, a wicked grin stretching her lips thin as she grabbed him by the shoulders and began frantically shaking his body back and forth.
“Forget your nose! We’re making HISTORY! Inter dimensional transportation, Johnathan! This is huge!”
He shrugged her hands off her shoulders but that did little to subside her buzzing excitement, evident by the enthusiastic resolve in her eyes. “What about our spider, it took ages to recreate that thing!”
“Forget the spider too, we already have our replacement, no need to make a third-” Liz made a point of picking up the tube, waving it in his face and tilting it over to watch the arachnid slide across the side of it. Concern for her enthusiasm aside, Johnathan’s grin matched the fire in her eyes. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
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3:15 PM
The bells rang and Miles was out of his seat before the sound could register in his ears, slipping out of the classroom and making a beeline for the lockers. Just when the familiar locker number was within sight, Y/N raced past him, making a point to stick out her tongue as a sign of mockery, only to come to a screeching halt as she turned back forward and was suddenly face to face with one of the school administrators.
Miles made sure to return the same favor, pulling at the sides of his mouth with his index fingers and sticking his tongue out after he passed her in the halls. If not for the teacher, she likely would’ve started a fight right then and there.
After a not-so-kind scolding and a promise of detention if she was caught running in the halls again, Y/N strolled up to where Miles stood, leaning against her locker with a hand on his side and a smug grin.
“Yeah yeah, laugh it up-” “Don’t have to tell me twice.”
Idle conversation ensued as he waited for her to gather her things from her locker. An arm snaked around her waist and his head rested on her shoulder, mid-complaint about his second period teacher being too harsh on the whole “no drawings on assignments” rule when she suddenly yelped, drawing her hand back from inside her locker. Miles’ eyes locked on the back of her hand as you winced, spotting the eight-eyed culprit and swatting it off her hand without a second thought. The bug hit the ground, and he raised a brow as he noticed the small markings on its back resembled numbers more than any bug patterns. 1610. “Weird.”
“You good?” He asked, grabbing her fingers to hold her hand up and once over the red bump rising on her skin.
“Yeah yeah- don’t hurt or anything,” she confirmed, inspecting the bite before twisting her hand around to intertwine their fingers, shutting her locker closed with the opposite and shrugging her bag over her shoulder. “Think it’ll get infected?”
“Yup, poison’s probably runnin’ through your veins as we speak.”
“Don’t play like that Miles,” she scolded, rolling her eyes as he merely shrugged in response before tugging her arm to usher her along as they headed to exit the building.
“I’m playing, chill, you’ll probably be fine.”
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“No, it’s not fine!”
Miles buried his head further into the palms of his hands in an attempt to quell the embarrassment course through his body as he watched his mom practically shake down his girlfriend.
“You’re leaving already?! I even made your favorite! Te encantan las empanadillas! Can’t you stay just a little longer?!”
Between Rio almost begging for her to stay and Y/N rushing to shove everything back into her bag that she’d left scattered across his room, Miles didn’t know who to focus on more.
“I know I know, I’m really sorry Mrs.Morales, I promise I’ll swing by later for leftovers!” She flashed her an apologetic smile while slowly backing up towards the door, but it didn’t take much. “I can’t even remember the last time you stayed for dinner you’re always so busy, we miss you! Miles does too, don’t you papa? I hear him complaining about it all the time!”
“Ma!” He turned back to throw his hands up at her exposing him while moving to walk she out, and Rio shrugged.
“Be safe, honey! Streets have been a little dangerous ever since that new hero hit the scene. And we better see you again soon, at dinner!”
As soon as the front door closed Miles shot you an exasperated look and she giggled. “Your mom does a good job at saying what no one else will,” she teased, punching him in the arm as her voice echoed throughout the halls. “Please do not defend her.”
“I’m not, I’m not!” She raised her hands defensively, but the skeptical look on his face made it clear he didn’t believe her. Lowering her hands, she placed one on each of his shoulders. “Was she telling the truth, though?”
“You have been flaking out on all of our dates recently,” Miles pointed out as his arms wrapped around her waist. “Well- I mean, it hasn’t been that many…”
“Two weeks ago we were supposed to go to that fair together and you bailed.”
“Something came up-”
“That one time you stood me up at the new burger place on the corner?”
“I heard their food sucked anyway, blander than a white mans casserole.”
“Just the other day we were supposed to go to the park together and you showed up two hours late.”
“In my defense, there was traffic.”
“It’s New York, there’s always traffic! And you don’t drive! Did you even remember that we had plans to go to that museum today?”
Y/N froze, and the guilty look that crossed her face after the moment of realization made Miles regret bringing it up. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry Miles! I totally forgot, I swear I would’ve-”
“It’s fine, Y/N,” he tsked, cupping her face and running a thumb across her cheekbone. “You have a life, I get that, I don’t need to be in it 24/7.” She smiled in relief and turned her head to kiss his palm, but he continued.
“-but, something’s tellin’ me this is different. I barely even see you anymore aside from class, and you been skipping classes too! I don’t know what you got going on, ma, but you know you can tell me anything. Your head always feels like it’s somewhere else.” He poked at her forehead to make a point, his voice lighthearted but the undertone showing his real worries.
Miles could only say so much to voice his concern, but he meant every word of it. Feeling like she was keeping something big from him would’ve been a understatement.
“I promise you’re overthinking it,” Y/N pulled back, grabbing both of his hands. “I‘ve just had a lot going on, nothing that important. You know I’ve got it covered, have I ever let you down before?”
Miles smiled gingerly, despite the obvious signs that you were caught up in something, he was willing to put it aside for you. “You better not start.”
“Course not,” she leaned forward to catch his lips in a kiss that lasted longer than most of their normal goodbyes, and likely would’ve gone on longer if not for the sudden sound of someone clearing their throat making the two instantly jump and pull apart. The distance between the two suddenly doubled upon seeing Jefferson standing with his arms crossed, still dawning his police uniform and wearing a disgusted yet disapproving expression, mostly pointed at Miles.
“Dad!”
“Sir- Mister- Captain Morales! Crazy seeing you here-” Y/N fumbled over her words and tried to swallow the crippling embarrassment.
“I live here.”
“Right…” she looked between the two Morales’ for what felt like an eternity but was only a few seconds before deciding to remove herself from the situation before she could embarrass herself any further. “I was actually just leaving-”
“Oh, yeah, uh huh-”
“And something came up and I uh- bye.”
She ran down the staircase before she could elaborate, leaving Miles standing their with slumped shoulders as he followed his dad back inside, left to endure a lecture on how ‘if you’re going to make out with your girl at least have the decency to not do out right outside of our house.’
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“-and now she’s off doing whatever, so I don’t know man, thoughts?”
Tapping at the bar screwed into the wall, Miles mimicked the action with his other hand while reading one of the signs displayed on the elevator doors showing off one of many scientists honored in the museum. Despite the fact that Y/N had bailed on him, he still wanted to go out to at least get his mind off of things while he had a chance; and knowing that his best friend had nothing better to do, that turned into him replacing you and the two touring around the building while he vented to Ganke about his concerns.
The elevator dinged, and as the lit button signaling that they were on the tenth floor dimmed and the doors slid open, he felt a rough smack on the shoulder.
“I think that you’re a massive loser and only nerds go to science museums for fun,” he remarked, walking up to a portrait statue of some popular physicist and making a face at the odd expression.
Miles rolled his eyes and stepped out to follow him, narrowly avoiding bumping into a stranger before joining his side. “Yeah? And only nerds go to fancy ass boarding schools for smart kids so what does that make you?”
“We go to the same school, dipshit.”
“At least I know I’m a nerd, dumbass.”
Ganke forced a sarcastic laugh before pulling out his phone and tapping away, leaving Miles to read the next sign on his own. “On a real note, though, if you’re that worried about keeping something from you then you should just fess up and tell her to tell you.”
“Tried that, she just insisted she was busy and told me not to worry about it.”
“Yikes, man. If thats the case you might just be a side pie-” he didn’t get to finish his sentence before Miles smacked him upside the back of his head, wincing and shooting the boy a glare. “Relax, I was joking!” “You think you’re funny?” “Hilarious, actually.”
Ganke looked up from his phone, “if you’re really that worried about her and she won’t tell you what’s up then you just gotta wait it out. Y/N’s a cool girl, she’s probably just not ready to tell you. Nothin’ you can do about that, just wait until she is.”
He stared for what was at least five seconds, causing Ganke to look up after noticing the small moment of silence and blink at Miles. “What?”
“Nothing, nothing. I just didn’t think you were capable of giving good advice.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Miles shrugged, pulling out his own phone to take a picture of the goofy looking statue. He opened the messages to text you just as Ganke moved to take a selfie for it.
‘reminded me of you.’
*Photo Attachment*
Just as he sent the messages, Ganke turned around and hummed to get his attention just as his phone dinged and he viewed the notification, holding the screen up for Miles to see. It was a news reporter, warning the citizens while simultaneously covering live footage of a fight going down in the city.
“Crazy, right? Ever since Spider-Woman showed up it’s like villains have been popping up every day,” Ganke pointed out as he moved around to watch the scene unfold with him.
“Yeah, I don’t hear the end of it with my dad, keeps complaining about all of the damage they have to deal with…” he had to admit that the way the vigilante was fighting was impressive, seeing her use her webs to temporarily hold back the weird-dinosaur-hybrid being she was fighting. Even though it was clear the helicopter couldn’t get close enough to get a good view of the fight, Miles started to notice the buildings they passed looked awfully familiar.
From the camera they could see the villain tied up in webs, being tossed around like a sack of potatoes as it began to break from the confinements. Spider-Woman began running up the side of the building, dragging the reptile along with her, and just as she brought her arm back and started swinging the webbing was when it dawned on Miles. Judging by Ganke’s jaw being halfway to hell when he met his eyes, he’d realized it too.
“Isn’t that building the-”
Ganke didn’t get to finish his sentence before a loud boom followed by the sound of glass shattering filled the floor. People were screaming, he could already see the crowd rushing for all of the nearest exits and Miles could barely wrap his head around what had just happened before he was grabbed by the arm and Ganke was following in everyone else’s lead.
“We gotta go.”
The elevator was out of the question as no one was willing to risk ending up stuck if it got damaged during the fight, or end up falling to their death, but that was one of the worse options. They opted for the stairs instead, a lot more work but their only viable option. The security guards and officers who’d showed up at the scene were trying to direct traffic to get everyone out as quickly as possible, but with so many people all trying to flee at the same time it inevitably became difficult and caused a lot of shoving and commotion. They’d only made it done to the seventh floor by the time they ended up stopping, Miles pulling Ganke away from the crowd both because they would’ve just been trying to wiggle through everyone else and because his friend was clearly out of breath.
“Holy shit,” was the only thing he could get out between breathes, and Miles only nodded. “You good?”
Ganke sighed. “Absolutely not.”
“Good, let’s go.”
Miles was already dragging him towards the exit before Ganke could fully recover. Luckily for him, the floor had two separate staircases, meaning more got out faster than anticipated and they didn’t have to fight to get out. Unluckily for them, they were one of the last to head for the stairs, and just as they reached the stairway the ceiling above suddenly caved in.
Neither got crushed, but the force of the crash was enough to send them flying back. Miles fell back into one of the displays, not enough to seriously injure him but there was for sure going to be a bruise he’d worry about later.
On the other hand, when he looked over he noticed Ganke wasn’t as lucky. If he had to guess, based on the noticeable hole in the wall and the blood seeping from his best friends forehead as he lay limp on the ground, he’d knocked his head and gone unconscious. Scrambling to his feet before he even realized what he was doing, Miles ran over, bringing one of his arms over his shoulders and pulling him to his feet. He silently made a note to later remind Ganke how he owed him one for this as he dragged his friend towards the other staircase, thankfully still in tact.
The last of whatever visitors remained were heading down the stairs, the only ones left being a child who’d seemingly been separated from her parents and hurt her leg, crying and frantically asking for her mother. An officer was still left behind, likely looking out for any others and rushing to help the girl when realizing she was still present. He’d just picked up the girl when Miles’ eyes suddenly widened.
“Dad?!”
The sudden voice made him turn, and as the two made eye contact his dad mimicked Miles’ surprised expression.
“Miles?!”
“What are you doing here?!”
“It’s my job!”
‘He was the captain,’ Miles had to remind himself, ‘of course he’d be here to help the citizens.’ “Right…”
“Is he…” His father gestured to his back, and Miles remembered the friend he’d been lugging along with him, glancing to the side to see that Ganke was still out cold.
“He hit his head, he’s fine.” Miles brought a hand up to check his pulse and reconfirm that statement, letting out a sigh of relief when he felt his pulse and nodding at his dad, who nodded in confirmation.
Using his free hand that wasn’t holding the girl, his dad pointed towards the stairs. “Get to safety, and fast. There’s people waiting at the bottom to-”
Miles was started to get tired of the sounds of destruction cutting off every conversation, but this one held far more danger as the vigilante and villain responsible for the chaos came crashing down onto the floor, right between the distance that separated him and his father. He got a full sight of the Spider-Woman standing on top of the criminal, holding together two webs keeping either one of the man(?)’s hands at his sides.
“Don’t you ever get tired of getting your ass kicked?” That statement was short lived, as the villain flung his tail straight into her side, sending the masked woman flying and crashing into a nearby pillar.
“Don’t you ever get tired of getting in my way?” The being rose back to its feet, surely towering over any normal human being as it’s head would’ve hit the ceiling had it not been destroyed.
“Hmm…no, not really.”
The spider suddenly spit out a web that stuck itself to the lizards chest, pulling harshly and sending the thing crashing into a nearby wall. The hit was harsh, and almost made Miles wince, but he was far more preoccupied with the fact that their fight was blocking his path to the stairwell and his dad. With his friend on his back he wouldn’t stand a chance trying to run past, so he resorted to backing up to the nearest wall.
Spider-Woman had webbed the reptile to the wall, fast enough that it wasn’t able to recover fast enough to break free from the webs before she’d used enough to leave him completely stuck to the wall. Miles could only watch in awe as she stood tall, clapping her hands together as if dusting them off, but just before she could make a proud remark about bringing him down, what started off as a low rumble but turned into loud crashing started to sound.
“Oh shit,” Miles cursed before he could think as the ground beneath him began to shake. The sudden noise must’ve caught her attention, and as the masked woman turned to look at her Miles could’ve sworn the wide eyes sewn into the mask went even wider at the sight of him. Had she not noticed him before?
Before either could take action was when the floor caved in from underneath him. The destruction that the lizard (mostly) had caused practically ruined the foundation on some of the floors. Whatever was left to support the floors was giving way, that part was made clear by how his heart nearly jumped out of his chest when Miles was no longer standing on a steady floor. He hardly had any time to grab onto a half destroyed rail before the side of the building started to collapse. He was able to lift himself enough to loop his elbow over the pole, keeping himself from immediately falling to his death, but that fate wasn’t completely out of the question yet.
His legs were hanging freely, and had it not been for the fact that his other arm holding onto Ganke’s waist for dear life to keep his friend from slipping out of his grip and falling to his death, he might’ve been able to pull himself up. His eyes were screwed shit and he muttered under his breathe, wondering that if he believed hard enough he might open his eyes and still be in the museum and not hanging off the side of the building, it could’ve all been a weirdly horrific daydream.
“No mires hacia abajo, no mires hacia abajo, no mires hacia abajo…”
The sudden gust of wind sent more shivers up his spine, and despite his constant reiterations, he hung his head and reluctantly opened his eyes. The sight of the ground being hundreds of feet below him made his stomach turn, but the call of his name gave him the much needed diversion and he looked up.
Just barely being able to see the floor he’d just been on, Miles saw the aforementioned Spider-Woman running towards him. How did she know my name?
The relief that would’ve crashed over him when realizing she was going to save him didn’t get to come, as instead his eyes zeroed in on his father, far behind the vigilante. The floor above was still coming down, the building was still collapsing and his dad was doing his best to avoid the falling rubble while protecting the girl clinging to his chest, but the drywall that’d fallen down just in front of the stairwell entrance prevented him from going down. The direness of the situation hit him like a brick, and Miles was sure the adrenaline was the only thing keeping him from throwing up due to the amount of stress boiling up in his head. As he watched his dad slowly getting backed into a corner by the debris, it finally started to click. There wasn’t enough time. She couldn’t save both. “No no no no no…”
It started off as a mutter, but his voice progressively got louder until he was all but shouting at the hero. “Stop!”
Surprisingly, she did, likely due to the suddenness of his random protest and the strain in his voice. “Stop! My dad! That’s my dad! Save him!”
Miles spoke without thinking, and it might’ve been selfish for him to silently admit that the child he was protecting hadn’t even crossed his mind as he worried, but it was true. The danger that his father was in caused far more concern than anything else he could’ve been worrying about at that very moment. Unbeknownst to him, you were having a far more conflicting dilemma in your head than he’d imagined.
Her chest was heavy and any words that she could’ve thought up never would’ve had a chance to leave her throat, she couldn’t muster up her voice. Her boyfriend was dangling over the edge of a building with a drop that would kill anyone immediately, made worse by the fact that he was also in control of his best friends life.
‘Miles needs me.’
Her head then whipped towards the police captain, holding the little girl who was likely no older than 10 to his chest, a hand over her head to protect her from the debris, most likely. The odds of him making it down with the floor crashing down on itself were zero to none, and Captain Morales was a good man. He was more than accepting when she’d come over, he deserved the title of Captain, he earned it.
‘But Miles needs his dad too.’
The tension was worsened and she was reminded of the lack of time she had to debate as the building shook again. A loud creak followed it, and when she turned her head again, as the rest of her body seemed to be frozen, the railing Miles was holding onto was bending further, and if she didn’t act fast it’d snap and send both him and Ganke free falling.
“Please!”
The sound of pleading combined with falling rubble and the cries of the child were starting to mix together in her head, forming a garbled, distorted mess that was worsening her stress.
The look on his face as he begged, she’d never seen it before. His eyes were so wide she could clearly see the white surrounding his pupils, eyebrows knitted together so tightly that the veins you’d never seen on his forehead were visible. The despair in his eyes made his pupils shrink in a way she couldn’t recognize, and the desperation made her heart ache. The expression didn’t look good on him.
“Save my dad, you have to save him!”
The building shook again, and as if being the final cue, the metal railing that had been resisting gravity finally gave in. Miles’ head disappeared over the edge, and before she could blink she was jumping over the side of the building to catch him.
The image that would remain engraved in Miles’ head for a long time to come passed as the pole finally broke, watching his dad duck and use his body to shield the girl as the rest of the building came down.
He couldn’t describe how he felt in that moment. Saying that he was afraid, that he was shocked or sad wouldn’t do the emotions that crossed him as he fell any justice. He couldn’t recall at one point he lost his grip on Ganke or when the thought crossed his mind that this might be the last thing he thinks before he dies.
He doesn’t remember when he felt the arm wrapping around his waist either, or what he felt when Spider-Woman pulled him into his side. He doesn’t know at one point she’d shot out a sticky web to catch Ganke and pull him in and over her shoulder.
Miles does remember the cool sensation of the wind hitting his skin as she shot out another web, managing to pull all three to hang off the steady side of the building before anyone could hit the ground. He remembers hearing the wind rushing past his ears when she carried them all up to the top floor, or what was left of it anyway. He remembers being set down on top of left over pieces of wall, ceiling and artifacts he could no longer remember. He remembers seeing you carefully set Ganke down by his side as Miles sat on his knees, hands being covered in gravel and dust as he leaned forward, trying to remember how to control his breathing, how to breath. He recalls seeing the vigilante rush over to what was now nothing but piles and piles of rubble, and at no point did he bother to question how she could lift what were clearly such heavy objects. He remembers the cry of joy she let out as the sound of a crying girl became prominent, pulling the child out of the mess only to see her freeze when she reached for something else.
And then he remembers seeing you.
Miles doesn’t know when he pulled himself to his feet or why he left Ganke’s side. Intuition, maybe? He’s running before he realizes it, and the closer he get, the harder it is for him to understand why it‘s his girlfriends face he sees when the hero pulls off her mask. He doesn’t understand why you look grief-struck, why you’re apologizing before he’s even stopped running or caught his breathe, or why you’re trying to explain how you couldn’t save his dad.
How you had to make a choice, there was nothing you could do, how you swore you could explain everything later.
Miles doesn’t understand because his gaze, his head, his mind is entirely focused on his father laying unmoving, half of his body trapped underneath a broken piece of debris, one he couldn’t dream of lifting up. Why is there so much blood?
“…dad?”
She stops talking when she realizes Miles’ isn’t listening. He repeats the questions, like he’s testing the waters, waiting for him to open his eyes and laugh at him for really believing he’d lost his life. But he doesn’t get a response. His hands start to shake, no, everything starts to shake. His vision blurs for a moment, and if not before, he’s certain now that there’s no air going in or out of his lungs. He starts to sway as if he’s going to lose his balance, and she scrambles to her feet, reaching out to grab him before he can, but he catches her by the wrist and steadies himself before she can help.
“Y/N?” He phrases the question as if he’d only just now noticed her presence. Her gaze softens, and she wants to comfort him, but the empty, paralyzing look in his eyes fades away when his gaze sharpens and his grip tightens. It doesn’t hurt, but part of her wonders if he meant for it to.
“I told you to save him…” That same choking feeling rises up her throat, but this time it doesn’t stop her from talking. “Miles…”
“I told you to save him! Why didn’t you save him?!”
“I- you and Ganke! I couldn’t let you fall! I couldn’t leave you two! There was no way-”
“There’s always a way!” Miles was never the type to get violent, she knew him well enough to know as much, which was probably why when his hands collided with her chest she couldn’t stop herself from being shoved to the ground. “You could’ve done both! You could’ve saved him but you didn’t!”
There were tears welling up in her eyes; before this, if he’d seen them Miles would’ve wiped them away and asked her what’s wrong.
“What did you expect me to do?! Miles, I wasn’t going to let you-”
“You destroyed the building, you brought the fight here…” he was hissing, but the gritting of his teeth as she got back to her feet made it come out as a mumble. “You killed my dad.”
She took a step forward, cautious, as if she were somehow afraid she’d hurt him. “That’s not fair and you know it,” she tentatively reached out a hand, aiming for his shoulder but it was smacked away and she took the hint, this time taking a step back.
“You killed my dad.”
That must’ve been the moment Y/N realized there was no way to defuse this situation. He wasn’t going to listen, why would he? She’d never seen him look at her with such disdain before, and she didn’t want to keep standing here and enduring it. She wasn’t even sure if he’d noticed the tears that’d started streaming down his face. She took another step back, and Miles didn’t budge. He reiterated his statement, he blamed her for his death, and if she had the choice between taking a bullet to the chest or experiencing the pain she felt as he stared at her like the worst human being on Earth, she would’ve chosen the bullet.
Miles didn’t look down, he was sure he would’ve emptied his stomach if he did, which might’ve been the reason he was unable to look away from the superpowered vigilante, his girlfriend, as she gave one last solemn look before jumping over the side of the building, catching one last sight of her swinging between buildings before e disappeared from sight.
The last thing he remembered from that day was laying eyes on his dad for one last time before the shock finally set in and he felt the weight of it all come crashing down. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he was unconscious before he hit the ground.
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What’s the right thing to someone who’s just explained to you that you (but technically not you) were the reason his father is dead, even more crazy being the fact that he’s another version of your boyfriend?
Trick question, there is no right thing to say to that, which may have been why you simply stood with a dumbstruck and pitiful look on your face as you stared down the other Miles.
The initial revelation was enough to send you into a shock, but as he stood holding up a newspaper detailing the exact event he’d just described after making you follow him to his room if you wanted an explanation, you couldn’t help but feel this was much worse.
Glancing into his eyes was almost just as painful as such. The emotion in his eyes was completely unreadable, one you assumed had to be a mix of grief, scorn and bewilderment.
He thinks you did this.
When you showed no signs of responding once he finished speaking, his eyes narrowed and he turned away. Miles shuffled between all of the papers he’d pulled down from the wall of his room silently, and you made no move to ask what he was doing. Instead, watching as he picked up a few before boldly holding them up to you.
“You disappeared after that day, without a trace, and so did Spider-Woman. No more saving the city, no more heroes, no more Y/N. Of course they searched but no one had any leads. There was a bounty out for you with a pretty nice reward too once the criminals started realizing you weren’t going to show your face again,” you took it he was referring to Spider-Woman when he said that, “and it’s still out. No sign of you since that day.”
The piece he held up showed said bounty, which you highly doubted was a legal one, and the one beside it pointed out the missing person’s case on you that you’d noticed earlier.
“I…” you started a sentence, but nothing you could’ve said would’ve answered any of his questions, so you stopped before you could finish.
It was clear to Miles that he wasn’t going to get anywhere, not right now anyway, and the words he was likely going to spill were cut off as he opened his mouth by a buzz coming from his pocket. He dropped the papers back on the desk, harsher than you would’ve appreciated, and pulled it out to check the messages.
The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife, but still you remained silent. He turned around and walked to the opposite side of the room as he picked up a phone call, leaving you to your thoughts for what felt like an eternity. In an attempt to move something along, you reached for one of the articles laying on his bed, but just as your arm came into view a gut wrenching pain came over you and you doubled over.
Pain wasn’t the right word to describe it. Your body started to flash with colors and pieces suddenly felt like they were missing from you. The best way to describe the look of the sudden attack would’ve been glitching, you assumed, and it lasted a few seconds longer than you would’ve liked. Your body was tearing itself apart and rebuilding itself at the same time, you hated the feeling.
When it subsided you were hunched over the bed, breathing heavily and groaning as you caught your breath. Miles had turned around at the sound of you being in pain, surprising rushing to your side and inspecting you when seemingly nothing was wrong before that moment, phone call long over.
“¿Qué ocurre?” Despite the earlier described events, there was still concern in his voice as he questioned your state and grabbed an arm to help you back onto your feet. You couldn’t help but wonder why.
“No- I, I’m fine. I don’t know what happened…” his confusion confirmed that he must’ve missed the trippy sight of your body glitching out, and for now you were glad he did.
“Look,” once you were deemed stable by his standards, Miles pulled back and let you go, a wary look in his eyes. “I don’t know what you could’ve done while you were gone or why you don’t remember what happened, only you can explain that to me.”
He walked past you, grabbing his coat and a suspiciously sharp mechanism you hadn’t noticed underneath his desk before heading for the door. Pausing, he turned around and looked you in the eye.
“I’ve got business to take care of, stay put. Doesn’t seem like you have anywhere else to go anyway.”
Miles slipped out of the room before you could come up with an appropriate reply, the door nearly slamming shut behind him. Seconds later, you heard what must’ve been the front door shut as well.
The stress of it all was starting to settle back into you, and you wanted the nightmare to be over. With nothing better left to do, you picked up all of the papers left behind, reading off the many articles grieving over the police captain’s death and the search for you as you placed them all in a pile before tossing it aside somewhere in the room. You didn’t bother remembering where.
A headache from the worries and injuries formed inside your head and you fell back onto the now-neat bed, rubbing at your temples. You couldn’t bring yourself to get tired or want to sleep with all that’d gone on and how much you’d learned so you resorted to closing your eyes and trying to relax instead. You weren’t sure how long you laid in that idle state since he’d left, trying to quell your thoughts before the sound of a window sliding open caught your attention.
Your eyes shot open and you sat up so fast it made your head spin and your side ache. Your eyes adjusted in the dark to the figure climbing through the window, getting defensive before you realized that you knew that familiar figure. Even more so, you recognized his hair, his mannerisms, it was like you could sense it without having to confirm. You were on your feet before you could even realize it, just in time to see him collapse onto the ground, breathing heavily.
“Miles!”
He jumped higher than you would’ve expected and sat up, and that’s when you got a good look at the tattered suit you couldn’t understand why he was in. The fear in his eyes when he realized you were in ‘his’ room must’ve matched the shock in yours when you realized what he was wearing.
“…Miles, what the fuck?”
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2nd a/n. i mischievously tapped my fingers together as I wrote this whole thing out, also somethings to mention:
1. the whole time I was planning this out in my head I was STUMPED bc every idea for the backstory I had kind of conflicted with some of the major stuff in atsv like 42 miles being the one who was supposed to become spiderman, butttt then I realized that I’m literally writing fanfiction and can do whatever the fuck I want because fuck the canon so what did ol girl do????
I JUST MADE ANOTHER SPIDER AND SWITCHED THEM!!!!! problem solved. for now. which also means that
2. reader was actually supposed to become the second spiderman in 1610 but since the spiders switched the one in their world went after miles instead
and 3. Jesus Christ this was longer than I thought I wanted to split it into two but I felt like it would fuck up the tension so I didn’t <3 if you noticed plot holes then stfu it’ll just be our little secret, same goes for typos, i might come back and rewrite some stuff to make it better if I feel like it
4. in case I need to explain I changed the pov from 2nd because 42 y/n technically isn’t you <3
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╰┈➤ ❝ tag-list ❞
— @brokeb1mbo, @ravieaesthetic, @sp1derm4nluver, @isa-444, @wassuppartypeople, @namtaeh, @whoisgami, @ponyboys-sunsets, @go-to-sleep-salem, @hana-1235, @j-natsuka, @lavzxx, @itzmeme, @iimng, @nycweb-slinger, @empress-pug-pug, @planetliaa, @mividaasi, @dolliied, @ukranianacearo, @solecitoszn, @izukusnovia, @abbyrxx12-blog, @conventionally-unconventional, @mileslovelygf, @ditto737, @iinlovewithfictionalppl, @superiorbyfar, @bingewatcheraf, @the-smut-plug, @whotfismirah, @gyuville, @blackspideysstuff, @1uv4jiya, @hobiesrockstargf, @pwettymoss, @a-pansexual-with-pancakes, @nefelibata-kopfkino, @ruttteerr, @randomhoex, @jcngw0ns, @danyxthirstae01, @noooooo222222, @browniebattermix, @asimpwhohatedlife, @6thhokageswife, @zeyzeys-stuff
460 notes · View notes
succubusmunson · 10 months
Text
Let’s Play
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Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader
Summary: Jealousy is a dangerous game of who can make the other break first.
Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), semi toxic relationship, exhibitionism kink, teasing, begging, praise, oral (m and f receiving), ball play, rimming (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), choking, spanking, slapping, breeding kink, squirting, overstimulation, unprotected sex, creampie
WC: 4.8K
(this was kinda rushed in the end, but i hope y’all enjoy!)
Remember to reblog and support the author!
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You looked in the rear view mirror one last time before taking a breath and stepping out of your car. 
Corroded Coffin was playing a show (if you could call a small crowd of local drunks and cougars a show), and while you were still mad over the stupid argument you had with Eddie earlier in the day, you still wanted to show up and support him. 
You walked into the bar, a small group of patrons scattered around it. Your eyes scanned the bar looking for your boyfriend and of course, he was talking up some women with big tits. You knew exactly where tonight was headed just by looking at him. This is the game he really wanted to play? You were here to be nice, but seeing him talking to the bartenders had smoke blowing out your ears. 
Eddie saw you by the front door and immediately pushed the girls aside, striding over to you. “I’m glad you came, sweetheart.” His smile was big and bright, but he had that mischievous look in his eyes. 
“Oh, are you?” You pushed your sunglasses to rest on your head, your arms coming to cross against your chest. 
You made sure to wear Eddie’s favorite outfits. It always left him drooling after you, staring at you like a starved man. Two can play this game, it was all about who would break first. 
It wouldn’t be the first time this has happened. You and Eddie always did this, fought, had mind blowing make up sex, and did it all over again. It was a never ending cycle. The two of you loved each other, were in love with each other, but that didn’t stop the fights you had. 
You heard it before, from your friends and family, that you fought this way to keep each other close, to have that spark always lit. No matter how many fights or nights where you almost went to bed angry, the spark was always there, always fully lit between the two of you. The two of you just couldn’t resist each other
“You gonna do this,” he looked around the bar, showing how now wasn’t the time to bring any of this up, “now?” 
Your eyes rolled at him being a tad bit over dramatic. He was acting all innocent, but that glint in his eyes told another story.
You placed a freshly manicured hand on Eddie’s hard chest, feeling his heartbeat under it. It sped up when you touched him, sending shockwaves throughout his body, and all the blood straight to his cock.
“I see that look, Eddie.” You stood up on your tippy toes, your lipstick stained lips pressed against his ear. “You wanna play just as much as I do.”
Eddie had to bite back a groan. Feeling you this close to him, touching him, always sent him into a daze. You had this hold over him, and he didn’t want you to let go.
He tried to compose himself, cleaning his throat. “Maybe I do,” he pulled your body flush against his, his arms snaking around your waist. “You better watch yourself tonight, sweetheart.”
You pulled away from him, slowly walking backwards to the bar. “It’s you who should watch yourself.” You winked at him, licking your lips. “I always win.”
Soon enough, Eddie and the band took the stage. They looked comfortable up there, and as they should. Corroded Coffin have been playing at The Hideout for years, always hoping for the day that some huge record label person would walk in and sign them. 
The bass quickly slithered its way into your body, making your heart beat out of your chest. It felt like you were vibrating, but you loved it. 
Many songs were played as Eddie kept flirting with the cougars by the stage. Getting on his knees in front of them, slowly licking his lips, practically humping the mic stand. He did all this knowing that you were watching, hoping the jealousy was bubbling up inside you. 
You couldn’t deny the need you had for him as you watched him, though. He was sweaty, beads dripping from his hair to his forehead. The bulge in his tight fitted pants was big enough for you to see where you stood, and the winks he kept sending your way had you weak in the knees. He was making it hard to focus, to breathe. 
You two had the other wrapped around your fingers. 
The set ended and just as Eddie jumped down, you turned your back to him. You were putting on a front and flirting with the bartender that had been making your drinks. Batting your eyelashes, letting your fingers linger over his when he handed you your drink. You even let out a few giggles, tossing your head back. You made sure that you were being loud enough for Eddie to hear. 
And Eddie definitely heard, he walked up to you and pressed his sweaty chest into your back. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, but you weren’t sure if it was from just playing his heart out or the sight of you flirting with some stupid bartender.
Eddie didn’t say anything to you as he stood behind you, he just grabbed your ass and walked away. He had something up his sleeve, you knew it. 
You watched him go over to a girl who was leaning up against the wall, smoking. Even though you couldn’t hear what was being said, you know he was asking to bum a cigarette. Eddie was always losing his somewhere. 
What took you by surprise was when the girl popped it into his mouth, slowly running her fingers down his neck and chest. 
Your fists balled at your sides as your eyes shot daggers at them. 
The girl leaned forward, her forehead almost touching Eddie’s. She was smiling in his face and you swear you heard her ask, “do you have one brand of cigarettes you love… or are you open to other options?” Her hand went lower, almost reaching the top of his belt.
You couldn’t take it any fucking longer.
She popped open her lighter and went to light the cigarette dangling from Eddie’s lips. 
Seeing red, you pulled him away, straight to the bar's nasty bathroom. At this point, you didn’t care where the two of you fucked, you just wanted him.
Eddie lost it the second you pushed the door close, pulling your body closer to his, and grabbing you by the back of the neck. “Who’s the winner now?” 
You rolled your eyes, already working on undoing his belt. “You’re joking right? She was almost kissing you!” Your voice was raised, sure to be heard over the music playing outside the bathroom. 
Eddie chuckled darkly, his grip getting tighter on you. “How about we talk about all that giggling you were doing with the bartender?” He leaned down and caught you in a feverish kiss, his teeth biting down in your bottom lip, and making you gasp. “Fucking pathetic to see you throw yourself at him like that.”
“Oh, so drunk girls can throw themselves at you all the time but the second I talk to some cute guy you have to act like this?” Your hands dropped from his belt and came up to rest confidently on your hips. 
“Cute?” Eddie cocks his head to the side, his teeth gritting, and his jaw clenched. “You wanna find another choice of words?”
“No, I don't.”
“You’re really digging yourself a hole?” He walks you backwards, pinning you between him and the wall, your back hitting the tiled, cold wall with a slight thud. “Are you really sure you want to go down this route?”
Deciding to push Eddie’s limits further, you shrugged. “What are you gonna do?” 
“Oh, sweetheart,” he ripped your shirt right down the middle, the ripping off the fabric echoing in your eyes. “I’m gonna make sure you know that you can’t have anyone but me.” 
He took you by surprise, the cold air surrounding your body and making your nipples immediately harden.
Eddie looked up at you. His big, brown eyes are filled not with innocence, but lust, jealousy, and need. 
You couldn’t deny how wet you were at this moment. Your thighs were sticky as you clenched them together, and your skin felt hot. All you wanted was Eddie, all you needed was him. 
“Please…” Eddie knew what you wanted by your tone of voice, but he was going to make you work for it. 
“On your knees, pretty girl.” He undid his belt quickly, letting it clank as he pulled down his jeans and boxers just under his ass.
His cock was already hard, leaking with precum, and his balls heavy with the need to be drained. 
Slowly, you dropped to your knees, your eyes still looking up at him. His cock right in front of your face, just waiting for you to put that mouth to good use. 
“Open,” you quickly obeyed, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue. 
Eddie grabbed the base of his cock and slapped the leaky tip against your tongue. The salty precum flooded your tastebuds and you closed your eyes to try and savor the flavor longer. 
You wrapped your lips around the tip, your tongue licking over the slit before taking more of him in your mouth. 
“Fuck- it’s always so easy to shut you up like this.” Eddie’s hand rested on the back of your neck, holding your head still so he could fuck his cock into your throat. “Just fucking take it.” 
You gagged and your eyes started to tear up, but that didn’t stop you from opening your mouth more. 
Eddie’s balls slapped wetly with each thrust of his hips against your chin, drool dripping down it. You were sure your throat was going to be raw after him fucking your face, but it was all worth it. “Doing such a good job for me, baby.”
You tried to speak, tried to thank him but your voice came out muffled. His cock was stuffed fully in your mouth. 
“Shhh, don’t try to talk.” Eddie ran a thumb over your cheek soothingly, wiping your tears away before gently slapping you. “Just let me fuck your pretty face.”
His hips thrusted, the tip of his cock nudging at your throat. Your lungs burned from lack of air, but you could stay on your knees for him forever. 
Your nose was pressed against the small thatch of curls at the base of Eddie’s cock, his balls wetly pressed against your chin. His cock throbbed in your mouth and against your tongue. You swallowed around his cock, gagging each time it hit the back of your throat.
Eddie wrapped a hand around your throat, feeling his cock bulge in it. He couldn’t help but groan, knowing you took all his cock in your mouth like the good girl you are.
“God damn it,” he pulled you away, your spit webbing between your lips and his cock. 
He didn’t stop there. Instead, he pulled your head closer to his balls, dragging them across your waiting lips. His cock was pressed against your face, precum smearing across your forehead. 
You did want you know he wanted, you opened your mouth and sucked the heavy sack in. Your tongue rolled against the velvety skin, your teeth nibbling here and there. 
“S-shit,” Eddie’s blunt nails dug into your skin, creating crescent moon shapes in their wake. 
You kept sucking, pulling on them. Having them in your mouth was enough to have your hips rolling against the air, looking for any type of friction against your clit. He knew what a slut you were for his balls. 
“Yeah? You like having my balls in your mouth?” He smirked down at you as you tried to nod your head with your mouth full of him. 
You grabbed his cock and moved your hand up and down in a twisting motion. More precum bubbled out of the slit and over your knuckles. Your spit and all the precum made it easy for your hand to move in swift motions.
While moving your hand up and down, squeezing at the tip, you gargled around his balls. Each lick and nibble making Eddie shake with pleasure.
“Shit-shit,” Eddie’s stomach muscles tightened and he was close to cumming. 
You could feel his cock twitch and throb in your hand, the precum dripping continuously down your knuckles.
As much as Eddie wanted to cum on your face right now, he couldn’t couldn’t let that happen yet. He had to cum in your pussy tonight. He wanted to fill you up until he had nothing left to give, breed you nice and full.
Eddie pulled his balls from your mouth and looked down at you. The sight of you on your knees, looking perfect, had him in awe. 
Your lipstick was smeared across your chin, eyeliner and mascara running down your cheeks with tears. You looked pretty like this. A pretty mess that he had made.
Eddie helped you stand up, and turned you around. His chest was pressed up against your back as his hands roamed over your body. “Let’s get you out of this pants.” 
His fingers made quick work, unbuttoning your jeans, and sliding his cold fingers inside your panties. “Who’s got you all wet? I know it isn’t that bartender.” 
“Y-you.” Your voice was quiet and shaky, his fingers barely brushing against your clit. 
“What was that? I didn’t hear you?” Oh, he heard you alright, he just wanted to hear you say it again. Eddie always wanted to hear how he was the only one who could get you soaked. No one else held such power over you.
“You, Eddie.” You wiggled your hips, his fingers pinching at your clit. “I’m wet for you.”
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Just as quickly as he slid his fingers into your panties, he slid them back out. 
Eddie helped you shimmy down your jeans and panties off in one go, pooling around your ankles before you stepped out of them.
His rough hands grabbed at your supple skin. Digging into the flesh of your ass, feeling your body mold into his hands. He had you just where he wanted you. 
“I don’t know whether to tease you,” he trailed a blunt fingernail up your back, goosebumps forming over your hot skin. “Or give you so many orgasms that you’re crying by the time I’m done with you.”
You shook your head rapidly, breath hitching each time he touched you. “Please don’t tease me, I can’t handle it.”
Eddie chuckled darkly in your ear, his teeth grazing against your earlobe. Every part of your body felt hot, the need for him almost becoming too much. “You think you have a say in this? You don’t, sweetheart. Remember, I won.”
“I make the rules,” his hand came down with a hard spank! across your ass cheek, causing you to let out a high pitched, breathy moan. The crack of his hand against your ass was loud enough to echo against the dirty walls. “You just sit there, look pretty, and take what I give you.”
Spank! Spank! Spank! His hand came down hard against your ass, over and over again. Your head was reeling, and you knew Eddie was enjoying it by all the chuckling he was doing. 
The stings of the initial spanks and Eddie's rings made you hiss in pain and pleasure. If you weren’t wet before, you’re certainly dripping now.
Eddie walked you until your stomach was pressed against the sink, trapping you in. Both of his hands grabbed your ass cheeks, pulling them apart and exposing you. 
God, you had the most perfect cunt. It was the prettiest color he had ever seen, was always so fucking wet, and it fit his cock perfectly. Each part of you, no matter the part, was made for him.
He groaned from behind you, licking his lips. “You’re fucking dripping.” His finger ran up the back of your thigh until it ghosted over your cunt, collecting some of your slick. 
You gripped the edge of the sink, trying to compose yourself. 
Eddie’s dark eyes looked at you through the mirror, smirking at you. He popped a finger in his mouth and swirled his tongue around it, making sure it was nice and clean. “God, I can’t get enough of how you taste.”
Behind you, he got down on his knees. He placed a hand on your lower back, bending you over the sink. 
You let out a shocked moan the second you felt Eddie lick up from your sopping wet cunt all the way up to your puckered, pink hole. If this sink wasn’t made out of porcelain, it might have been broken with the tight grip you had on it. 
“Oh my fucking god.” Your eyes rolled in the back of your head just as Eddie wrapped his plump lips around your clit. “Yes- Eddie!” 
You reached a hand around and held into the back of his head, grinding your hips back against his exploring tongue. 
“Mmm, mhm.” He couldn’t say much, but Eddie was showing just how much he loved the taste of you. Letting his tongue dip into your cunt for a moment before licking up towards your ass, getting it all nice and wet with his spit. 
Eddie was slurping, licking, and sucking. He was doing everything he could with his skilled mouth and tongue to pull those pretty, pornographic moans that he loved so much coming from you.
Each moan sounded like an angel singing in his ears to him. If he could have your moans on repeat forever, he would.
The hand you had in Eddie’s hair pulled at his curls, his own moans sending vibrations through your body. “So good, Eddie, so fucking good!” 
It was hard to keep your balance and not fall straight to your knees. The pleasure was growing and you could feel your orgasm fast approaching, making your toes curl in your shoes.
Eddie knew you were close too, and he wanted to feel you cum all over his face. He pulled your pussy lips apart and suckled your clit back into his mouth, shaking his head side to side, letting his teeth barely graze it. 
Your clit throbbed in his mouth as your orgasm kept building and building until you finally let go. 
“I-I’m cumming!” You were afraid that Eddie would stop, edge you until you couldn’t take it anymore. But he let you cum, kept sucking at your clit like his life depended on it, making obscene slurping noises. 
You squeezed your eyes shut and slammed your hand on the sink as your orgasm ripped through your body. It was taking its time running through you, letting you feel every bit of pleasure it had to give. “Fuck, fuck!” 
It’s safe to say that no one could eat pussy like Eddie. He was a god at it. You knew it, he knew it, and so did all those girls that could hear you screaming in the bar.
Eddie pulled away just as you finished cumming, standing back up, and looking at you through the mirror. His lips were swollen, covered in the mess you had made on him, practically dripping in your cum. “You wanna taste?”
He didn’t wait for you to answer, just grabbed you, and forced your head to turn. His lips felt sticky, hot, and wet. His tongue danced around yours, both of you moaning into the kiss. You both lingered in the kiss for a moment, melting into each other. 
You pulled away, letting nothing but strings of salvia connect the two of you together. “Jesus Christ, Eddie.” Your breath was still labored from before, never fully catching it.
“I’m just getting started,” he grabbed the back of your thighs and sat you on the surprisingly sturdy sink. Your legs dangled above the floor and your ass barely hung off the sink. 
“You look so pretty all fucked out.” Eddie didn’t let you argue with him, shoving two of his thick fingers in your mouth. 
You bobbed your head up and down them, letting your tongue lick between them. Eddie and you held eye contact the whole time his fingers were in your mouth, you getting them all nice and wet. 
He kicked your legs apart and took his spit wet fingers from your mouth. 
“Eddie,” you bucked your hips into the air, already needing something touching you again. 
“Hmm?” He trailed his fingers up your thigh, licking his lips. “You want something?” 
“You know I do.” You grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand closer to your cunt. “Don’t do this to me, please.” 
“Look at you begging,” two fingers slowly slid into your cunt, your mouth falling agape. “What? nothing to say now?” 
Eddie held his fingers still, watching as you became greedy and fucked yourself against them. Your hips lifted off the sink a little each time you bucked your hips, trying to get Eddie to fuck you with his fingers. 
“Fucking move.” 
He grabbed you by the throat, squeezing it, and cutting off a small amount of your air supply. “Ask nicely and I’ll think about it.”
Your chest heaved as you tried to take in deep breaths, your heart starting to beat rapidly. “Shit- Eddie… please fuck me with your fingers, I need it.” 
Eddie smirked at you, resting his forehead against yours. “C’mon, that was nothing. I know you can do a lot better than that.”
“I’ll do whatever you want, please! You’re the only one who knows what I love, how to make me cum.” Your eyes welled, tears threatening to spill over. One orgasm wasn’t enough, your body craved more.
He curled his fingers inside your cunt, pumping them in and out. His eyes never left yours, watching as they filled with pleasure. “That’s a good fucking girl.” 
“Y-yes,” your breath came out hitched as his thumb started to toy with your clit. “I’m your good girl.” 
“Yeah?” His fingers fucked you harder, your body shaking each time he fucked them into you. “Just my good girl, right?” 
“Yes! Just- holy fucking shit!” 
Eddie caught you off guard, wrapping his lips around one of your swollen nipples. He pulled at it with his teeth before moving to the other way, doing the exact same thing. He hummed against your skin. 
Your head fell back against the mirror as your cunt squelched around his fingers, gushing as his fingers grazed against your g-spot. Your head spun as you let out silent screams, your body shaking the more you came. 
The breath felt like it was punched from your lungs, your throat raw. You didn’t want this feeling to ever stop. You felt purely euphoric, everything tingled in the most perfect way.
“Holy fuck, baby.” Eddie couldn’t tear his eyes away you, his fingers still fucking into you harder and harder. He was in complete awe at the way you squirted from his fingers. “Such a dirty girl, aren’t you?”
Abruptly, he pulled his fingers out of you, watching the way they were dripping in your cum. You whined at the sudden feeling of emptiness. 
“Don’t worry,” Eddie helped you off the sink, holding you steady as your legs wobbled. “You get to cum on my cock this time.” 
You bent over the sink, pushing your ass out, and wiggling it in the air. As sensitive as you were, you craved his cock. “God, please. I need it.”
Eddie slid his pants and boxers down to his ankles, letting them pool. “I can see how badly you do, sweetheart.” He rubbed the throbbing top of his cock around your clit, slapping it a few times. “Want me to fill you up nice and full of my cum? Is that what you want?”
“Yes,” you turned your head to the side, making eye contact with him. “Please fill me up.” 
He barely let you finish talking before he slid his cock inside your soaked cunt, balls pressing right against your clit. Your body fell forward against the sink, your hand resting against the mirror. You were so full of cock that you couldn’t think straight, couldn’t form a coherent sentence. 
“I- Eddie- oh my,” your brain was shut off and the only thing it could focus on was the throbbing of Eddie’s cock stuffed tightly in your cunt.
“God dammit, baby,” Eddie pressed his body over yours, engulfing you in him. He dropped his head against your shoulder blade, his breath coming out in short pants. “Your cunt was made for my cock.”
You reached behind you, digging your nails into whatever part of him you could grab. “You feel so fucking good!” 
Eddie chuckled, “bet that bartender, or anyone else, couldn’t fuck tou like this huh? He wrapped a hand around your throat, squeezing until you opened your mouth to catch your breath. “No, no… only I can fuck you this good.”
Your lungs burned for hair, but Eddie kept adding pressure. He smirked each time he squeezed your throat, making you whine. 
“O-only you can!” His cock felt so good, sliding in and out of you, making you gasp and writhe against him. 
Eddie pulled all the way out, leaving just the top of his cock inside you. You tried to grind your hips against him, but he let go of your throat to hold your hips still, keeping you in place. 
“Say you’re mine,” his fingers on one hand dug into your flesh while the other cupped your jaw, forcing you to look into the mirror. “Fucking say it.” 
You were a wreck, but you’ve never looked better. 
“I-I’m yours!” Eddie slammed back into you, his hips slamming into yours at a bruising pace. “I’m all fucking yours!”
“That’s right,” Eddie could feel you getting closer, your cunt tightening around his cock. “You gonna cum for me again, sweetheart?” 
“Please, please, please.”
He wrapped a hand around your body, finding your clit, and rubbing fast, harsh circles. Your body collapsed against the sink as your toes curled and thighs shook. You couldn’t hold it in any longer, fully letting go and cumming around Eddie’s cock. 
You saw stars as you squeezed your eyes shut and screamed Eddie’s name at the top of your lungs. 
“Yes, Eddie, yes!” You tried to stop shaking, to calm down but you couldn’t, not when Eddie didn’t stop fucking you. 
“Give me one more, I know you can.” He grabbed your shoulder and pressed his chest against your back. “Can you do it? You gonna cum with me?” 
You weakly nodded your head, letting Eddie do whatever he wanted to you. 
He was close, his hips stuttering as he kept fucking you. His fingers never left your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts, making you bite down on your lip hard enough to draw blood. 
“My pretty fucking girl,” Eddie gritted his teeth. “Gonna fill you up and let my cum drip down your thighs so everyone can see.” 
You focused on him in the mirror. His eyes were shut, mouth opened as he groaned, and his chest flushed a bright red. “Do it, please fucking do it!”
Eddie’s hips stilled as the both of you finally came together, your cum dripping down his cock as he kept his promise, pumping you full of his cum. 
“T-take it all,” Eddie opened his eyes and looked between your bodies where he could see his cock twitch, cumming inside you. “Just like that, baby.”
Deep pants quickly filled up the now quiet bathroom, neither of you able to find your voice after cumming. The two of you stayed in the same position for awhile, savoring in the blissful moment of a jealous fuck. 
It wasn’t until someone was banging on the bathroom door that Eddie finally pulled out of you, both of you wincing from the sensation. 
You still had a tight grip on the sink, not trusting your wobbly legs to hold you up. “I can’t feel my legs.” 
Behind you, Eddie was pulling up his pants, a smirk plastered on his face. “What can I say? I always know how to make you feel good.”
You quickly flipped him off before finally getting dressed yourself. Your panties were nowhere to be found, but you just shrugged it off, someone would find them later. Only then did you remember that your shirt was ripped down the middle. “I need your shirt.”
“Why?” 
“Unless you want everyone to see my tits-“
Eddie tossed you his shirt, his jaw clenched just from the thought of someone seeing you in such an intimate way. “Put it on.”
You opened the bathroom door after getting dressed, noticing all the people staring at you. “Do you think they heard?” 
Eddie found your panties under the sink, shoving them in his back pocket, making sure it was noticeable that he had them. “With the way you scream for my cock? They definitely heard.”
857 notes · View notes
dirtysvthoughts · 11 months
Text
𝓟 𝓡 𝓘 𝓥 𝓐 𝓣 𝓔 𝓓 𝓐 𝓝 𝓒 𝓔 𝓡 - CHAPTER ONE
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pairing: gang leader! soonyoung x stripper! reader
word count: 2.3k
general tags/warnings: smut, pwp, female! reader, mentions of violence, m*rder, and blood, stripper things, a steamy lap dance, reader gets fully nude, big dick! soonyoung, pet names (pretty girl, baby, etc.), reader falls for soonyoung, sex w/o condom (remember if they can’t wrap it, protect yourself please), kinda a slow burn for the start of the series!
playlist songs: everything you want - pap chanel, streets - doja cat, naughty girl - beyoncé
notes: ITS FINALLY HERE BABESSSS!! i’m so excited to share this series with y’all and i hope you enjoy it! <3 every chapter will include up to 3 songs inspired by the events of the story!
soonyoung sits alone in a dark corner of his faction’s warehouse, only a few spotlights illuminating their large meeting space - deep in thought. tonight, it was just him and his five most trusted guys, finishing what might’ve been their most difficult job yet.
soonyoung is the leader of one of the most infamous gangs in the region, known for their ruthless ways. they’ve murdered, gambled, brawled with other rival gangs. many of their incidents have ended in extremely close calls, with someone either near death or two steps away from handcuffs. but they didn’t care. this was they way of life they chose. anyone that dared come in their way, they eliminated them without hesitation.
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“double check the duffel bags, and make sure not one bill is missing," soonyoung says as he gets up, going to wash away the rest of the blood remnants from his hand. their job tonight was taking out another gang’s higher ups, they and they put up a hell of a fight. soonyoung genuinely wondered if the close calls he got in that knife fight were even worth they amount of money they were promised. “i swear to god if he fucks up my income again, that’s his ass,” he grumbles, hoping that this would be over with faster than he thought.
when he finishes, he approaches the table where the rest of his comrades were. “well?” he says, watching one of the guys as he puts the last stack of paper through the money counter, the familiar sound of cash rustling through the machine.
“that’s it - all $40,000 from tonight’s job, boss,” one of the guys say, wiping his forehead, hissing when he brushes against a slight gash. soonyoung smiles for probably the first time all day, relieved that finally, he could get to do what he wanted to do.
“alright boys, gather up the bags and shut all of this shit down - i got the perfect place for us to spend some of this cash,” he presses a button opening a garage door as he walks out first, heading to a black suv.
——
“club illusion?” another one of his guys say as they pull into the club’s parking lot, viewing the neon purple and green signs. “not to question you soonyoung, but why here?”
he rolls his eyes and scoffs i’m the passenger seat, surprised at how not everyone was connecting the dots. “word is, they have the best and prettiest dancers here, and they might have some dealers here, heard they have the strongest shit too..” soonyoung says as he jumps out the car, fixing his jacket as he walks forward, everyone else exiting the car packing around him for protection.
the group walks past everyone in the long line, complaints and shouting starting to get louder the further they reached the entrance. but before soonyoung can sneakily bypass to get inside, one of the bodyguards stops them.
“yo, i’m pretty sure you see this line - what makes your think that you’re better than everyone else?” soonyoung smirks as he shows the patches on his jacket, signifying his affiliation and ranking. the guard’s eyes widen for a second, but he slips back into his demeanor.
“listen,” he says in a low tone for only him and the guard to hear, “i’ve had a long day, and i would really like to relax.. and you don’t wanna see me not relaxed,” the guard glances at the other men, meeting their menacing stares, and looks back at soonyoung.
“drop your weapons in the bin,” the guard says. soonyoung places his hand on the guard shoulders, smirking at him as he walks past. “wise choice,” he says as he drops his knife in the bin, the others following suites, chuckling as they walk past, some of them flicking him off.
—-
blue stage lights flood the club’s main floor as people sit on the tables and lounges, dancers in skimpy outfits, twirling on the poles and shaking their asses to the heavy bass. cash scatters some of the stage platforms, dancers teasing their audience by sexily covering themselves with it. the air smells hazy, a tinge of weed lingering in the atmosphere.
“forget i questioned you boss - we definitely needed to come here tonight,” he smiles, nodding his head at a dancer he made eye contact with. “i’m not leaving until i fucked one of these girls and have them screaming my name,” he says starting to drift away from the others.
“you guys are free to go where you want,” soonyoung says, eyeing his surroundings quickly. “if you run into any body, let me know and i’ll handle it.”
as the guys separate, soonyoung walks forward, observing the sights around him. as his mind takes it all in, the dj drops a beat and comes back on the mic.
“what’s up, club illusion!” the dj yells and the crowd responds appropriately. “we got some great dancers in the building and they got bills to pay, so show ‘em some love!” the audience cheers and more people continue to toss their cash on the stages.
“now coming to the main stage, one of club illusion’s sexiest, seductive dancers - welcome to the main stage, ms. sageeeeee!!” the crowd screams wildly as the lights dim and they focus on the main stage, soonyoung’s eyes immediately taking what was in front of him.
the music starts, the familiar “oohing” of the streets silhouette remix playing with through the speakers.
and that’s when he sees you.
you confidently strut on stage, your black, glossy 8 inch pleasers striding one in front of the other, your strappy black bodysuit practically exposing all of your backside. once you reach the pole, you roll your head to the right and slide your hand up your body.
“put your head on my shoul-” the music switches and you go into a side spin, the crowd continuing to go crazy as you transition and hold a pose upside down.
as the song progresses and come to end, soonyoung can’t your eyes off you for one second. he’s enamored by you - your movement, your presence, not to mention how sexy you looked in that barely-there bodysuit. you strike a final pose on the pole as the music fades. the audience continues to scream, bills covering the front of the stage.
after holding for a few seconds, you transition off the pole and gather your money, one of the bodyguards helping you down the steps when you’ve finished.
and that’s when you notice him.
from across the room, he looked like just another man in the club, but close up, you couldn’t deny how hot you felt when your eyes met each other’s. his all-black fit from his distressed jeans to his oversized jacket, his height, his black hair - he looked too good to be true.
as you begin to part ways, you wave and wink at him, hoping you caught his attention. he smirks at you, letting him know that the message was received. you blush inwardly as you turn back around, praying that he would at least rent out a section on the main floor, if not a v.i.p. room.
——
as soon enter the dressing rooms backstage, you’re met with showering compliments from some of the other dancers. you thank as many as you can as you reach your spot, freshening up in case you get called back again.
as you scroll through your social media after a few minutes, one of the bottle girls comes in to the room and approaches you. “sage!” she calls you, your head snapping up to meet her eyes. “oh hey, min! what’s up?” you say putting your phone down.
“there’s some guy that keeps asking for you in one of the vip rooms, he looks kinda cute too,” she smiles nudging at your shoulder. “you better hop on that before someone else does,” she walks away heading back with her empty tray. you pause and think before you finally make a decision.
“wait, min - which room is it?”
“should be room 3!” min winks at you before going back to the main floor.
you’re never nervous about vip room experiences. so why now? why do you feel like your heart is about to burst out of your chest?
you’re embarrassed at your conflicting emotions. never once has a customer gotten you flustered. but then again, your customers don’t usually have an air of mystery and attraction hanging over them.
you breath out a huge, but silent sigh and pull yourself together. no matter how attractive the man downstairs was, he wasn’t gonna start making your falter.
you push the curtains away as you enter the dimly lit room, silently thanking the gods that min’s guess was right. there he was, sitting on the couch across from the pole platform. his eyes were on his phone, but now they’re completely focused on you. even closer, he still had you writhing. how could one human being look so insanely hot?
“so, you’re the man from the main floor,” you twirled your hair strands, smiling at him, walking toward him with your left arm crossed against your chest. “i heard you requested me by name. no one’s ever really done that before here,” you now are in front of him, getting dangerously closer to each other’s bodies.
“well they should more often, baby,” he says as he runs his fingers through his hair. “you’re too fucking phenomenal not to be called out by name.”
if you weren’t flustered earlier, you were definitely flustered now, desperately making sure it wasn’t showing on your face.
“speaking of names, you now know mine,” you sit next to and face him on the couch, crossing your legs. “but i don’t know yours.”
“soonyoung.”
“soonyoung,” you repeat, smiling to yourself. “i like that.”
“well soonyoung,” you say getting up from the couch, standing in front of him, slotting a leg between his. “i don’t normally give my customers choices, but i like you. do you wanna see me on the pole again? or would you rather you and i get a little closer?” you say as his hands begin to touch your body.
“i think you know where i wanna go with you,” he caresses your cheek, “i wanna see you dance on me, for me, pretty girl.”
—-—
your back faces his chest as you grind into him, his hands simultaneously roaming your thighs and playing with the straps of your bodysuit. beyoncé’s naughty girl plays through the speakers, your waist rolling in rhythm to the music.
you push your ass further on him, making sure you can feel all of him as he gets harder under your touch. “you know you can take it off right?” you say as you turn your neck toward his face. “in fact, why don’t you take it off for me?” you bite your lip hard as his hands reach further up, fondling your breasts.
after some time, he does as you ask, slowly taking off your bodysuit. you help him out as the material goes down your legs, and once it’s fully off, you toss to the front of the room.
“you’re so gorgeous,” he groans as he traces your folds, and it takes everything in you not to moan out loud. instead you muster a sigh as you turn around to have your body face front.
“if i told you i wanted to fuck you, right here in this position, how much would it cost me?” he places his hand near his jeans, hoping you were feeling the same way he did.
you pause to think about your options. ���mmm, $500 sounds good to me.”
without hesitation, he pulls out a large wad of cash, thumbing through the bills and giving you a little bit more than $500. you swear he read your mind because before you can even ask, he opens his mouth.
“think of it as a nice tip,” he winks at you as you stuff the bills in your heels.
you slowly bring him in a kiss. he separates from you first, but you quickly bring him back in, kissing him with more fever. he unbuttons his jeans, zipping them down as his boxers come into view. you think you’re ready, but you’re still visibly stunned when he pulls his dick out. his thick length and veins on full display.
“damn, soonyoung,” you say biting your lip, nearly drooling. “you’ve definitely proved you have big dick energy.”
he laughs as he starts to pump himself for you, more pre cum beginning to gather at his tip. once he’s finished, he beckons you with his finger.
“make me feel good, my pretty girl,” he says as you sink down on him, both of you groaning out at the same time.
“sh-shit, soonyoung, fuck!” you hiss, holding onto his broad shoulders. “you’re so big and i feel so full,” you feel like you might cum already with his he was sheathed inside you.
when he finally starts moving, you feel like you’re seeing stars. the way he pounds into you, you can feel the coil in your stomach get tighter. after a few more minutes of him penetrating and you moaning soonyoung’s name, you finally feel it.
“o-oh, soonyoung, ‘m gettin’ close, shit, ‘m cl-clo, ah!” you nearly scream as you come all over his lower half, part of your juices on his black denim.
“well, uh,” you giggle, looking down at him. “that was something,” you brush your hair away from your face, finally looking in his direction. he smiles back at you, putting his dick back in his pants.
you pull each other for one last kiss, wanting to feel his touch just one more time.
“something tells me that it might be a minute before i see you again.”
“you never know, pretty girl. yeah i have busy job, but i can definitely make the time for you.”
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yaz-4200 · 1 year
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~Secret Relationship With The Real Slim Shady~
(Eminem x reader!)
- PART 1 - 2001 - you’re in a secret relationship with slim, an innocent runway model and the controversial rapper
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“You’re too paranoid baby” Marshall cooed softly in your ear
“I’m telling you Marshall that man recognised us” you said pulling the hood down further to cover you a little more- you loved wearing his hoodies they were not only comfy but you always felt so safe and hidden in how big they were.
He sighed pulling up to the McDonald’s drive in, getting ready to order a quick meal before he dropped you off to your next shoot.
You repositioned yourself in your seat, turning away from him to cover your identity when he pulled up , he laughed slightly to how seriously you took it- at the end of the day it was your sweet reputation he was protecting not his own
The immediate gasps filled your ears as he pulled up to the window “Oh my God!EMINEM” the fan girls called out
Marshall smiled and laughed “how y’all doing” he said with a chuckle “Can we get your autograph??!!” One of the workers squealed , Marshall nodded signing something for the both of them before they gave him the food “who was that with him” one said quite loudly as he began to drive away
You smiled to yourself , you enjoyed seeing him interact with fans - and hearing them ask about your identity make it clear you concealed yourself well "see wasn't that bad was it" marshall teased with a sly smirk on his face- you pushed his arm playfully "shut up" you replied with a laugh. You both settled down at the back of the car park as he handed you your food "I promise to call you whilst im in Detriot baby i just gotta sort some stuff out with the kim and see hailie" he said refering back to your previous conversation You smiled back at him , "its fine marshall , i have back to back shows here so i'll be busy too-say hi to hailie for me" you replied beginning to eat your fries You had only met hailie a hand full of times, which proof had mentioned was non-existant for past girls slim had been seeing. That made you happy,knowing he loved you enough to bring his daughter around you meant alot. You watched marshalls face grow intrigued by something outside the car, "Motherfucker!" he yelled too loud for your liking you turned your head and just then you heard it the "click" of a camera rang in your ears. "shit" you mumbled.Turning back to slim who slammed the car door open "jesus fucking christ marshall stop!" you hated when he acted on impulsive like this "Back the fuck up punk!" marshall shouted pushing the camera back with his palm , the guy seemed to get the hint jumping back away to get away from marshall In moments he was back in the car, a laugh escaped his lips as if the situation was funny "This isn't funny marshall hes gonna shop those" you replied pointing to where the man was "Then you cant deny me anymore in your little interviews" he retorted moving your head to his shoulder "i dont know what im gonna do" you mumbled to yourself.
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bookishdream · 10 months
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Stained Floors
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Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader Synopsys: Reader gets injured while running from Singh's men and Rafe helps her Warnings: blood, cursing, guns Disclaimer: Rafe is so much out of character in this one. Also I have literally no knowledge of biological aspect of a gun shot injury, but I tried my best.
The sun was setting, when y/n made her way to the patio that overlooked John B’s garden and a little marina that was a few yards away from the Chateau. She brought a mug with lukewarm tea closer to her lips while drinking in the last rays of the sun, before it would finally vanish. She loved the golden hour, the moment when the sun was meeting the horizon and the moon was making its way higher and higher. The day was incredibly hot and all she needed was the cold breeze that would be brought with the night. However, her moment of peace and silence was about to end in any minute now, since the rest of the Pouges were coming back from whatever mess they had gotten into. 
“Y/n!” She heard Kiara’s voice coming from the distance. She rolled her eyes and made a few steps towards the railing to see why her friend was yelling. When she laid eyes on Kiara and Sarah running for dear life, chased by two dangerously looking men, she dropped the mug and started running herself. Her feet hit the ground when she heard the first shot. Goosebumps raised on her bare arms, but she didn’t pay it more attention and put all of her will into moving her legs closer and closer to the marina, as to hide from the men. Kie and Sarah quickly caught up with her. Y/n heard another shot, this time nearby her. Then there was a third one, and she felt her body screaming in agony. Pain made her hesitate before taking the next step and Sarah had to grab her hand so that y/n wouldn’t fall. They found John B’s boat and fastly untangled the knot that kept the boat by the pier. Kiara as fast as she could, started the engine and soon they were putting more and more distance with their oppressors.
“Shit, shit, shit” The blond murmured, quickly assessing the seriousness of the wound. “Shit,” 
“Fuck, Sarah, what happened?” Kiara questioned when she motioned for them to get down on the boat’s floor. Y/n turned her head as much as she could in order to see the position of the two men. She couldn’t see them on the pier, which was a bad sign, but all she could care about was how fast she was bleeding out. 
“Y/n got shot,” the young Cameron replied, taking off her shirt and keeping the pressure on y/n’s hip. The shot girl hissed through her teeth at the sudden pain. “Oh, please, you survived worse than that.”
“Sarah, for the love of everything holy, I’ve never been shot,” 
“No, but you’ve kissed my brother and, in my books, it’s worse than getting shot,” Sarah remarked, trying to divert y/n’s attention from the pain of her shot wound. 
“Will you ever let me live that down?” y/n played along, because no matter how stupid it seemed, talking about something that wasn’t her blood getting out of her system was a nice distraction. 
“Hmm,” Sarah trailed off, “No.” With her last word, she pressed the clothing even harder to the other girl’s hip. 
“Fuck, you could’ve warned me,”
“Y/n, are you okay?” Kie asked, briefly looking into her direction, “Where should I dock?”
“Close to the city, I know someone who can help,” y/n replied, propping herself up on the side of the boat. 
“I could help you,” Sarah offered, her eyes gleaming with worry. She was chewing on her lower lip, just like she did whenever she felt stressed. 
“Sarah, love, you were the one being shot, not the one helping to patch you up,” y/n said, clenching her hand on the shirt and pressing even harder. She was still conscious, so that meant she could walk those miles to Tanneyhill.
“What if you drop dead on your way to this person?” Kiara asked, stopping the boat close to the pier. 
“You won’t get rid of me that easily. Go find the others and call me when y’all are safe, yeah?” she said, smiling slightly to mask her own worry for her state. “Now help me out,” 
Both Sarah and Kie took one of y/n’s arms and hauled her up out of the deck. “Be careful,”
“Always am,” she saluted and slowly made her way towards Tanneyhill. And towards Rafe Cameron, which she considered her last resort. 
“Bullshit,” she heard Kiara’s answer, however she didn’t bother with reacting in any way. 
Her steps were slow and she needed to pause her walk every so often. Her head started spinning from relief when she glimpsed the Camerons’ house, which she knew shouldn’t be occupied by anyone other than Rafe. Her steps faltered, but she still made her legs do those few steps that separated her from the house. 
When she reached the main entrance, she raised her hand to knock. Y/n started to think whether it was a good idea to come here and basically beg Rafe to help her. But she got her, in her state and she wasn’t about to turn around. Praying that the door would be open, she pushed it, leaving a bloody mark on it. She cursed, promising in her mind that she would get the stain off when she got better. 
“Rafe?” she asked, her voice echoed in the hall. Still pressing the shirt down to her lower abdomen, she made her way upstairs to Rafe’s room. Hoping he would be there. “Rafe?” she reiterated, opening his door that was slightly ajar. She looked around his room that looked as neat as it could; the bed was made, no clothes were laying on the floor and the window was slightly open, letting in the cold breeze from the outside. 
“One time I need him and he’s not here to get on my nerves,” y/n muttered to herself and immediately after congratulated herself on going crazy that fast. She heard a quiet tap and when she looked down, she noticed her blood had soaked in Sarah’s shirt and started dripping onto Rafe’s bedroom’s floor. She made her way into his bathroom, grabbing a bottle with whiskey on her way and undoing the button of her shorts. The bathroom was kept in light colors, white tiles and white marble counter with golden details. Y/n cursed again when she saw the open wound and blood leaking all around it. She took off her shirt and started looking around the room for a first aid kit. 
She quickly made a mental list of every step she needed to take, so she wouldn’t die of blood loss. First, she needed to take out the bullet and she was thinking clearly enough to take the longest tong in Rafe’s kit and spill some alcohol on it. How Rafe would have medical tongs in his possession, she didn’t know. She was grateful, though. She sipped the whiskey, counted to three and put the tongs into her wound. Tears sprung free from her eyes and she grabbed the counter with all the force she could dig. The curses were flying free out of her mouth as soon as she realized she couldn’t take out the bullet by herself. 
“Did you have to bleed out on all of my floors?” y/n abruptly turned her head towards the male voice coming out of the threshold. “I followed the dots and found you here, still bleeding.” 
“Shit, Rafe, next time I will be wiping it down as I go,” Rafe rolled his eyes at her words, but his gaze quickly turned serious when he noticed y/n’s state. 
“What the fuck happened to you?” He got closer and smacked her hands from her abdomen. “Are you stupid? Did you try to take out the bullet yourself? Do you wanna fucking die?” 
Y/n closed her eyes and stopped her hand from punching him in his mouth. Her head was pounding and she could feel her conscience slipping. “Just help me, please,”
Rafe’s gaze softened at her words, he crouched and delicately put his palm on her hip to see the wound better. “There’s no bullet here, y/n” 
“What?” she asked faintly, her eyes flattering open.
“No, don’t you dare close your eyes again.” Y/n nodded at his words, looking down at him. Her cheeks blushed at this particular position and she noticed a little smirk playing on Rafe’s lips. “Good, if you have the mental power to remember that, you have enough will to keep your pretty eyes open,” 
“Stop fucking flirting, Rafe. What do you mean there is no bullet?”
“I meant that the bullet hit you, yes, but it only grazed your side. On the other hand, you’re bleeding like crazy,”
“When did you get so smart?” she clenched her fists on the edge of the marble counter when Rafe touched her hip. 
“When I got shot myself,” he replied, taking the rubbing alcohol and a gaze. He soaked the material in the liquid and without any warning he pressed the gaze to y/n’s wound. 
“Rafe for fuck’s sake, you’re just like your sister,” she cursed, nearly kicking him. 
“I would’ve never thought that someone would compare me to her in this type of situation,” he smirked, wiping the dried blood around the wound. Y/n only rolled her eyes and she hissed again when Rafe lifted her bridal type. 
“What are you doing?” she asked, confused. 
“I’m getting you into bed, stupid. You need to rest,” he replied, gently laying her down on his soft, white, sheets. 
“I will ruin them with blood, Rafe,” 
“Let me grab the bandage,” after that he vanished into the bathroom again. Y/n sighed, her head was still hurting but she could see more clearly. When Rafe came back with the ligature, she silently sat up and let him do the work. Cameron put a big patch and stuck it to y/n’s wound then he wrapped her whole abdomen with a bandage and gently pushed her arms down, so she would be laying. 
He put down everything he had in his hands and made his way towards the other side of the bed. Rafe laid down, propping himself up on one of the bigger pillows. 
“I’m sorry I bled out on your floors,” she started, rotating so she would face him. He looked down at her and stretched one of his arms, indicating her to cuddle to his side. She clung to him and put her hand on his chest, inhaling Rafe’s scent. 
“It’s alright, I’m glad you’re okay,” y/n could feel his steady heartbeat under her palm. 
“I will also wipe the door clean,” she said a few minutes after they both fell into blissful silence.
“You bled out on the door, too?” Despite the question sounding serious, y/n could hear a pinch of humor in Rafe’s voice. 
“By accident,” she smiled at him, looking up to meet his blue eyes. She sobered down after a sharp pain radiated from her side. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” 
“Hey,” he used his free hand to lift her chin up, “I don’t care you marked the whole house with your fluids,” he shivered at his words. “I understand,” 
“Thank you, Rafe, for everything,” she came back to her previous position, with her head in the crook of his neck. 
“No problem, gorgeous,” Rafe gently kissed her forehead and with his reassurance, y/n closed her eyes. 
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reds-writings · 2 months
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rust cohle headcanons
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(pairing: rust cohle x fem!reader)
a/n: here's some more rust brain rot on my behalf <3 feedback is always appreciated!
warnings: implications of sex, light cursing, etc. let me know if i missed anything! (minors shoo!)
word count: roughly 1k
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adding to the headcanon floating around of him being an acts of service type man through and through. yes, he can go on neverending tangents but sometimes words about his more sentimental/mushy feelings are better demonstrated by him being at your near beck and call whenever you’re in need
you don’t even have to directly ask him to do anything. it’s more like if you were to mention offhand that something in your car didn’t sound right or your fence needed some redoing they’d find themselves fixed within the coming days without so much as another word 
that man is crafty and i cannot be convinced otherwise! the little beer can people he made are just a small example of what he can do with his hands. one day in town you saw a beautiful chestnut dining table but it was just a tad out of your price range so you figured you’d save up a little more for it and get it the next time you stopped by 
rust had some downtime (more like made downtime during his bouts of extreme insomnia) and got to building. it was a while after and by that time you had long forgotten about the table you saw until one day you got home from work only to find an ornately designed table in your dining room. it was a bit different than the one you’d spotted at the shop but no less beautiful. in fact it was even more gorgeous with its polished shine and intricate details 
you had searched for a note or maybe even a sign left anywhere of the maker that it came from to then spot a neatly carved ‘RC’ underneath one of the tabletop’s lefthand corners 
your fingers grazed over the simple set of initials as your brain damn near short-circuited at the fact that this man built you a damn table. with his bare hands. rust cohle saw that you liked a table and decided to just make it himself
you’d made your way to the receiver on your wall after snapping out of your disbelief and rang him up
“You built me a table.” You said it more as a statement than a question instead of a normal greeting.
“I did.” His tone held no sense of pride or smugness at your shock. As if this were no big deal at all.
“You built me a table. When did you have time to build me a whole table? In fact, when’d you start bein’ able make tables in the first place-”
“D’ya like it?” He interjected in that lackadaisical way of his and you paused. 
“...I love it.” 
“Good.” 
“Well, I guess then it’d only be fair for me to invite you over for dinner so that we may put this lovely new table to good use. As thanks of course.” 
You heard him huff in fond amusement on the other line, “Yes, ma’am.” 
y’all put that table to good use alright 
he’s more of a grappler than a cuddler when it comes to sharing a bed
he holds you as if in need of tethering himself. it was as if he were to let go somehow this wouldn’t be real and your presence would flit away should he loosen his grip at any given moment 
if you get too hot in the night any point of minimal contact was still initiated like tangling your foot with his or linking pinkies just so he knew you were nearby (this happens longer down the line in your relationship when he feels a bit more comfortable having someone in his space a bit more constantly) 
quality time together isn’t necessarily always spent doing something totally stimulating or exciting 
it could be as simple as cooking dinner together or curling up on your sofa while he reads and you watch something soapy on television 
he’s a very private man so going out to do something super couple-y isn’t really up his alley. he won’t really ever deny you if you wanted to really switch it up and go to places like bars, the movies, fancy restaurants, etc. he’d just find himself more reserved in more public spaces but no less completely and utterly focused on you
he’s not much of a dancer but don’t get it twisted. his ass can dance. the man is from Texas so you best believe he has more than a few line-dancing routines ingrained in the depths of his mind
on the very few occasions you’ve gotten him to agree to dance with you when you’re out you nearly laugh every time with how seriously he takes it 
you find yourself cooking food for him often. not that he ever expects it of you but living off of cigarettes and beer can only do so much for a guy. he genuinely forgets that his body needs a meal when he gets all caught up in his work (you don’t bother nagging at him much because he’s grown and more stubborn than anything at times) 
if you aren’t available to check in on him you’re not above making Marty grab something for him when they’re stuck at work 
any kiss he gives you is not one made in passing. anything rust does has some level of deep intent behind it but he never kisses you or says ‘i love you’ out of routine or empty habit
he’s a deeply feeling guy and a lot more handsier the longer you’re together (usually still only in the privacy of your own home). it goes back to just having to feel tethered or connected to you! it comforts the more broken/scared bits of him knowing that you’re just there and present and real
his synesthesia can make things overwhelmingly intense so sometimes when you’re out or after certain activities he finds himself in need of longer moments to himself (which you never take personally) 
in less serious moments you find yourself asking him the dumbest questions you can about smelling colors or tasting places 
“So does that mean Marty’s got a taste to him? You've tasted your coworker?” You snickered as you lay beneath the weeping willow in your front yard with him.
“It don’t work like that.” He said around the unlit cigarette in this mouth, tone sounding as if he were entertaining a silly child. 
“Nuh-uh! You said somethin’ awhile back about my presence tastin’ like jasmine and clementines or somethin’-”
“Drop it.”
You poked your tongue in your cheek trying not to giggle. 
“I bet you Marty tastes like stale coffee and I dunno…regret-” You snapped out a surprised laugh as you felt a quick pinch on your side. 
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kaashallmighty · 1 year
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Whatever I Have Left
Oscar “Spooky” Diaz x Male Reader
WARNING: bit of mary jane magic💨
You n Oscar talking😭✋🏿...
I couldn’t decide if I wanted some fluff/angst shit or a really fru fru shnookums type beat but ig we’ll see
I forgot to mention that most if not all my writing gonna be with a black/poc coded reader in mind because I’m just that nigga🤞🏿. But honestly i don’t give a fuck who reads as long as u not being a fucking buffoon abt it. . . . PEACE🫂
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The sun is just starting to set when you arrive on the beach shore. The waves crashing against the sand and the call of seabirds fill your ears as you start your search for Oscar. It had been a few days since kicking his little brother out to the streets and of course he wasn’t doing well at all. You went to his house to check up on him as you had been doing but there was no sign of him. That brings you to the beach. This is where the oldest Díaz brother is found when things get overwhelmingly complicated, his safe space. The first thing you ever learned about Oscar is that he finds security at the beach. You spot his car before you see him further down perched against the rocks.
You know Oscar hears you walk up but he decides against looking at you, focused on the ocean breeze against his skin. Plopping down beside him you pull a lighter from your pocket and the blunt behind your ear. Lighting up you stayed silent, knowing better than to try and push Oscar into talking.
“It shouldn’t be this way. I shouldn’t have to rob my own blood of a bed to sleep in.” You know he isn’t wanting a response but you turn your head towards him to show you are listening. His brows furrowed and mouth formed into a scowl as he continued.
“Cesar isn’t made for this typa life, yet because of me he’s headed in the wrong direction. We should be somewhere living a normal life where all he has to be worried about is school and teenage hormones. We look over our backs when our biggest concern should be work or our own familia running arou-”
He stops dead in his tracks. He expects you to scrutinize him like he’s betting all his worth on the most unfeasible outcome of his future. Expects you to snap him into the reality of what’s bound to happen due to the lifestyles y’all lead. Background noise fades out and plunges him into hypotheticals jumbling around in his head.
The heat radiating onto his fingers pinching the still burning blunt shakes him out of his head. With a clear of his throat and a quick glance in your general direction, he takes a slow drag of the content and hands it off to you. “Oscar, you aren’t stupid for wanting better than the gang. Aspirations make us human
“The Santos will still be the Santos long after you are gone and when the time comes that you decide step down, we’ll pick Cesar up by his mangy scruff n move to fucking Miami.” You cackle and the dopiest smile makes its way onto Oscar’s face as he watches you ramble about him not having to leave the ocean behind.
“On some real shit tho, I wanna spend whatever I have left with yo ass.” Your words come out low and raspy, but hold a hardness that would guarantee Oscar knows you aren’t spouting drug induced whims. You ash the roach in the sand and look up. Red hazy eyes meet the mocha pools finally staring back at you.
Reaching a hand out to his nape, you pull him forward, resting your foreheads together. Your fingers find purchase running along the tattoo adorning Oscar’s neck. His shoulders noticeably relax, relieved of the tension he felt. ‘Whatever you have left’ could range from a few hours to a hefty number of years. Letting your words hang over in the air, he leans further into your touch. He relishes the fact that he has another reason to want to abandon Santos life.
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Hello Darlings 🌻
So I received a Nonny message asking for clarification regarding Zelda’s situation in yesterday’s post. While I am always glad to answer Nonny messages, please keep in mind that I do not have the ability to answer those asks privately as I would if you sent them off anon. While I totally understand why y’all use anon, it does limit my ability to address them, especially for more sensitive or personal questions.
However, I still wanted to resolve this question as yesterday’s post comes from a very personal place, and perhaps for that reason, I do want it to be clear moving forward. While I think subsequent posts may do that, in case they do not, I will also answer it here.
That said, I will be doing so under the cut because it involves a more in depth discussion of Zelda’s situation in yesterday’s post. So if that post is as far as you would like to go on this subject, please stop reading here.
No, Zelda did not have a miscarriage. Nor did she just “not become pregnant.” Zelda and Antoine have more or less been trying to get pregnant for a year, and she has continued to get her period month after month. Let me make something abundantly clear, I am in no way minimizing the pain of having a miscarriage, nor ignoring how that could have been the conclusion of that post. However, I am specifically writing about a different experience with one’s fertility and how that can affect one’s mind in its own way.
I am clarifying this because it is its own, albeit deeply related and sometimes simultaneously experienced, pain. That is because many people will view it as “you never had anything to lose” or “there was never any traumatic event to be upset over.” It is a slower pain, damn near constant; that comes to you in cycles as you follow your own so closely.
As many women who have tried to get pregnant can testify, the hyper awareness of one’s fertility can be overpowering, as you restart each and every month, planning your life around the best time to try and conceive. Then once that passes, you search your body for every little sign to tell you whether or not you succeeded. But still, there’s nothing you can do but wait.
There’s a very specific line in that post that sometimes Zelda was late enough to make them think she had conceived. Imagine there is no pregnancy test, and all you can do is hope that every time you look down, you haven’t started your period. Even if it’s “just” one day, or a few hours, you do it every single time. Every single trip to the bathroom becomes a high stakes moment because if it’s there, then you “failed”, and you have to start all over again. Until sooner or later it eats away at the excitement and hope you felt when you first began the process.
It is exhausting and Zelda’s statement that “she is broken” becomes an almost inevitable thought as it happens over and over and over again. Meanwhile there seem to be countless examples or even other women telling you that it should be easy or that all you have to do is relax. Even worse, you’re told you have to “keep trying” because nothing “bad” has happened, has it?
There are countless women in this position, and if you are or have ever been one of them, my heart goes out to you. That is why I wanted to clarify this before we proceed any further in this story, because this is a very intentional experience I am writing about and I don’t want it to be misinterpreted for that very reason.
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mymoonagedaydream · 10 months
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Part 2
Pairing: Mob!Bucky x y/n
Word Count: 2k
Warnings: Language, vague references to violence
Author’s Note: Much appreciate all the love for part one, thanks y’all!
Part 1
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The sound of your alarm pissed you off even more than usual the next morning. 
You padded down the hallway, pulled down on the knotted string hanging from the ceiling of your bathroom and winced when your face appeared in the mirror. Your horrendous night of sleep was vividly painted across your face, seeping into every pore and newly formed wrinkle. You pulled and prodded at your dull skin. Hopefully no-one would mention it.
Anxious thoughts slowly dripped into your mind as you got ready for work, eventually settling like a heavy cloud that hung around you as you left your apartment and began to walk down the stairs. You’d fought with Bucky before, of course you had, but you’d never been left feeling like this. Your relationship always teetered on the edge of chaos but this is the first time it felt like it might have lost its balance.
You paused at the bottom of the stairs, collecting yourself and taking your first deep breath of the day. The cloud thinned a little. You’d get through this, you told yourself repeatedly, you just needed some time. Turning into the lobby, your nerves were further soothed by the familiar sound of rustling paper, a faint smile starting on your lips when you spotted your old friend huddled in the corner.
“Morning, Lily,” you stopped beside her and let your eyes dance over the headlines she’d neatly arranged on the floor, “anything exciting today?”
She swivelled round from her crouched position as soon as she heard your voice, something resembling concern washing over her crinkled features. “Oh, are you alright dear?”
“Course.” You gulped. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Last night, I heard some raised voices and loud rattling. I thought it might be the television but I never usually hear-”
“It was the TV,” you forced a smile, “sorry. I’ll try to keep it down from now on.”
“If you say so.”
Her eyes twinkled slightly as she turned back around, attention returning to the papers. You reached for the latch on the door and pulled it open but, before you could step outside, she thrust something into your free hand and firmly closed your fingers around it. A shrewd smile briefly flashed in your direction before it and its host disappeared through a doorway like some kind of moth-eaten grey shadow.
You shook your head, just to double check you weren’t in some kind of vivid fever dream. Sometimes it worked.
Stepping outside, you paused and uncrumpled your daily offering. It was a clipping from the vows section of an old New York Times. A young couple were pictured, dressed in all their wedding finery, grinning above the headline Against All Odds. You chuckled and glanced back at the building, sometimes that place was weirder than a fever dream.
Checking up and down the street, you saw no sign of Bucky’s car. What a relief. He obviously realised you’d need some space after what happened, he could be smart like that when he took a second to stop and think instead of letting his paranoia get the better of him. If only he did that more often.
You turned and began the short walk to the library, neatly folding the paper and sliding it into your pocket. The usual sounds of engines backfiring and horns blaring were slowly tuned out as you became lost in thought, replaying the events of last night in your head. You understood why Bucky worried so much, and sometimes you felt guilty for letting it piss you off, given the circumstances, but you just couldn’t help wishing he’d at least try to move on.
The two of you never really spoke about it. It was just over a year ago when you started to notice the same guy cropping up more and more in your daily routine, leaning against an expensive-looking car with a cigarette in his mouth outside your apartment, browsing through the Home and Lifestyle magazine section at the library, joining the queue behind you at your regular coffee shop. At first you brushed the encounters off as coincidences, as someone new to the area exploring the few pleasant attractions, but noticing him tucked in the back corner of the bar during karaoke night made you start to panic.
Bucky erupted when you told him. He stormed out of your apartment as soon as you finished speaking and didn’t show up again until two days later, with the same clothes on and no skin left on his knuckles.
You guided him through to the kitchen and stuck his hands under the faucet, running warm water over the wounds while you prepared some bandages. He shook off your questions at first, only drip-feeding you bits of information once you’d cleaned him up, the thin veil of calm periodically slipping away and revealing a deep, frightened anger. 
He told you that you were being targeted, while in the same breath promising that it wouldn’t be a problem anymore, that he’d solved it. He didn’t say what you were being targeted for. He didn’t say how he’d solved it. You didn’t ask.
Even since then Bucky had been incredibly jumpy, obviously terrified that the next incident might end differently. You never said it, but at the time you found yourself hoping the whole ordeal would be enough to convince him to leave all that shit behind, hoping you wouldn’t have to keep choosing the man you loved over your own safety.
You’d underestimated how deep his father’s insidious claws had already sunk in.
You finally checked your phone on your lunch break. Just the one missed call, he knew how to take a hint. Biting your thumb nervously, you typed out a message, offering to meet after you finished work. The coffee shop where you first met seemed like the best idea, somewhere public but filled with happy memories for the both of you. Hallowed ground.
He was waiting with your drink in front of him when you arrived. He always did that, made sure to arrive early so you didn’t have to wait in line, and you were always too appreciative of the gesture to point out that your coffee was cold by the time you got to it. His hands reached across the table to hold yours as soon as you sat down. You let it happen but didn’t let your arms stretch towards him at all, you couldn’t have him thinking he was off the hook just like that. There were a few seconds of uncomfortable silence before he cleared his throat and spoke.
“I’m so sorry baby,” his fingertips brushed over your lightly bruised wrist, “are you alright? Did I hurt you?”
“Only a little.” That answer seemed to pain him but you weren’t sure what else to say. It was the truth.
“You need anything? I can ask for some ice, or go around the corner for some Tylenol?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
You lowered your gaze to his hands so he wouldn’t see the faint smile you were attempting to smother. Again, you didn’t want to give him the impression that everything was back to normal, but you couldn’t help the joy you felt at the reappearance of your usual, sweet Bucky.
“I can’t believe I did that,” he swallowed harshly, “wouldn’t blame you if you never forgave me. Don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself.”
You took a deep breath.
“I forgive you.”
“You do?”
“Yes, but only because I know you, Buck, and that wasn’t you. It was-”
You cut yourself off, unsure if stepping into this territory again was wise.
“Was what?”
“It was more like something your dad would do.”
He looked down into his coffee. “You’re probably right.”
That seemed to hit him pretty hard. You understood what he was feeling, coming to terms with the fact that the man you’d looked up to your whole life was, to put it mildly, deeply flawed was a fucking rough thing to do. 
He just needed time. Lucky for him, you were more than willing to wait a little longer, you just needed to make sure the two of you were on the same page.
“Look, I know why you think you want all these changes. All the men in your family follow the same path, meeting a nice girl at church, moving in together, marrying within a year, kids within two. Some people want that and that's fine, but I don’t, and I don’t think you do either.”
“I just want you,” his grip on your hands tightened slightly, “however.”
“Then we’ll figure this out.”
He smiled. You smiled back, loosening the tension in your arms so he could pull your hands closer. The two of you stayed there, talking, until the coffee shop closed and they swept you out onto the sidewalk. Things were starting to feel better.
He held his elbow out and you laced your arm through his, the two of you starting the short walk back to your apartment by predicting how many clippings Lily would have for him today. Your conversation was cut short, however, when his phone began chiming from his pocket. It was his dad. He apologised, answered and told him he’d call back later. As long as you’d known Bucky he’d never once sent his dad to voicemail.
You pictured the villain on the other end of the phone, bright red face framed by a receding hairline. He was quite a bit shorter than Buck but in surprisingly good shape for an old guy who was never without a cigar and a glass of liquor. His shape, however, wasn’t enough to compensate for his oily demeanour and the permanent leer that was etched on his face. To men like him, women were either useless or they were receptionists, and receptionists were just potential mistresses with plausible deniability. 
He never liked you. In all fairness, you never liked him either, but at least your dislike had been vindicated when you overheard him at Bucky’s brother’s wedding calling you a cheap broad. You’d never done anything to him. Well, nothing he knew about.
You chose not to tell Buck about that, but only because you wanted him to come to his own conclusions about his father, to see the light without you having to shine it directly into his face. Your heart filled with dread as you watched him pacing and struggling to get off the phone, hoping against hope that he’d never turn into that man.
He eventually managed to free himself, his expression turning pretty bleak as he walked back over.
“Everything alright?”
“Mhmm.”
“Buck.”
“It’s nothing, really, I just-” he rubbed his eyes, “I kinda felt like I needed to talk to someone earlier, so I told my brother about last night. Fucking stupid thing to do.”
“Why’s that?”
“Cause it sounds like he’s already told pretty much anyone willing to listen, now dad’s trying to set me up on a date with one of his friend’s daughters.”
“Damn, he works quick.”
“Tell me about it.”
You chuckled. “I guess that’s what you get for picking an outsider.”
He forced a smile. You could see the cogs starting to work in his head. The whole time you’d been together he’d been trying desperately to come up with a way to marry his two opposing lives together, to work out all the kinks and somehow make everyone happy. It broke your heart having to watch him slowly realise that it might not be possible, and you wondered if he’d ever even considered what kind of life would make him happy.
You tightened your arm around his. “You know I’d never ask you to choose, right?”
“I know.” He planted a kiss on your temple. “Thank you.”
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Part 3
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grippingbeskar · 9 months
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unearthed
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chapter eight - tested
warnings: canon typical violence, mentions of death, a few heated moments, swearing
a/n: let’s ride let’s ride. sorry for last chapter, i’m trying to build tension as best i can. but, alas, a lady can only be edged so much, so. enjoy this lil hint at what’s to come. also a few people have messaged me, YES WE ARE GOING TO FUCK MANDO OKAY look who you’re talking to. but my God You heathens 🤺 GET BACK 🤺 we must first have our plot before we have our spice. WE MUST 🤺 just trust me okay. i love y’all. I WILL NOT LET YOU STARVE. lots of smut planned for this fic hehehehehehehehehe.
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This planet didn’t even have a name in the system it was crammed in. Just a bunch of numbers based on its jumbled coordinates. That’s how abandoned it was. As soon as you stepped out of the Crests hull, there was just… nothing. As far as you could squint and see, there was just broken-down ships and old junkyards covered in dust. Your arm covers the bright suns from your eyes, and you hear Dins’ heavy steps coming up behind you.
The holo-pad beeping in your hand is the perfect distraction from the quiet that settles between the two of you. You don’t look up when he comes next to you, grinding your teeth to stop from saying something stupid.
“Lead the way.” He says cooly, tucking the baby into his pod and pressing it closed before shutting Grogu safely into the Razor Crest.
“We’re leaving him here?” You ask, still squinting into the horizon. Din nods.
“A planet like this isn’t safe for him.” You feel his eyes on you, then his helmet tilts further to the holo-pad in your hands. “And the location isn’t too far out. We made good time.”
“Thanks to my flying?” You try, the tension following the two of you out of the Crest and hovering in the planet’s heated atmosphere. To your relief, he puffs out a breath a bit quicker than normal— he laughed. Thank the stars.
“Sure.” You smile at his reply, and then look away quickly back to the blinking holo-pad. He was right— it wasn’t too far away, maybe a twenty minute walk from where you’d landed. You’d have to leave the ship behind because the planets surface was too full of debris to land any closer, and it looked like there’d be a bit of climbing to do.
“It says it’s up three elevations. Look.” You hand him the pad, full of grids and flashing numbers displaying the exact coordinates, including levels above and below sea level. According to the increasingly annoying beeping, the closer you got, the higher the droids you were tracking.
Din nods, and continues to follow the blinking in silence. You swallow hard, and will yourself to keep up a steady front, not willing to let a little awkward moment phase your entire trip. You were doing something good— tracking this tech could lead you to your parents killers, and in turn prevent another attack on Mandalore, or your own planet. You needed focus, which is exactly what you didn’t have when you were fucking around and letting Dins hands wander your skin like a kid at a candy store.
It was just… a nice feeling. For a second there, you thought he might have enjoyed it, too. It had been longer than you were willing to admit since someone had touched you like…that. Your body practically sung to him the second he laid a finger on you. He made you feel things that no one, not even ex-partners, had made you feel. He was exciting. Exhilarating. He was the thing you shouldn’t have, but at the same time the thing you wanted the most. It would only complicate things to get… involved with someone like him, especially considering your unique situation.
But then again, it would make perfect sense. You were married to the man. What’s a few stolen touches between business partners, when you were also one day expected to have the man’s children?
As soon as the thought popped into your mind, Din froze, and you had the ridiculous thought that he might be reading your mind.
“It’s says the dump site is up there.” Din gestures to the towering form of a broken down cruiser.
This entire planet seems full of broken parts. Half ships, piles of service droids and random parts litter the ashy red surface, ruble expanding far out along the horizon. There were few planets like this anymore, but with the catastrophic consequences of the Clone Wars, all those remains had to end up somewhere. The Empire stashed them on uninhabited planets until they could figure out what to do with them, but when the New Republic took over, they had bigger fish to fry.
Therefore, now there were ‘junket’ planets, and if you could navigate to them, it was a free-for-all for parts.
You stand in front of what would have been a control cruiser— something used to deploy large squadrons of battle droids, maybe even move AT’s around back in the day. It was massive, even if it was in half. It looked like it had been dumped right on its nose, the giant expanse of it stretching up into the frosted clouds, making you squint again.
Your heart sinks a little at the thought. The entire ship was full of tiny piles of droids and broken down mechanics… and your fathers life work was just lumped in here. Like it meant nothing. All his free time was spend pulling apart these droids and learning them inside out, and now they were just a drop in the ocean of fading memories.
“We’ll have to fly up.” He says, and you laugh until you see him ready the jet pack on his back.
“You can’t be serious.” You dead pan, but he’s better at it. “We can’t just…”
“You see a ladder around here?” You stare back up at the massive cruiser— even if there was a manual way up, it’s a hell of a climb. This thing was huge. “If you don’t want to, I can go myself—“
“No. I want to.” You cut in. He takes a step towards you, and even though you burn with the earlier rejection, you don't move away.
He says nothing, but when he wraps his solid arm around you, he doesn’t need to.
He pulls you close— so close that every part of you presses and aches against him. Instead of looking where he’s supposed to be taking you, the black visor tilts down, and he looks just at you. You think about what he would be like under there. If his eyes would be on yours, or if they’d look lower, to where your skin touches his armour. He must like that, the way you look against him. You… you hope he doesn’t mind it.
“Hold on.” He says lowly, and you ever so slowly wrap your arms around his neck. He dips down to let you reach, and as soon as you have a grip, he takes off.
Your feet leave the ground and suddenly you’re flying— like, really flying, drifting higher and higher along the ruins of the transporter ship. You try not to squeak and fail when he picks up speed and turns slightly, your legs wrapping around him and head burying into his neck. You weren’t afraid— but shit, this was higher than it looked.
“It’s okay.” He soothes, and your head shakes from its sealed position. “Hey, look up.”
“No!” You scream almost in his ear, and he laughs.
“It’s okay… do you trust me?” He asks it so smoothly, as if he wasn’t holding you a hundred meters in the air on nothing but a jet back the size of a baby. But— you do. You do trust him.
So, you look.
By the time you open your eyes, he’s slowing down, dropping the two of you onto a jagged platform that looks like an old control room. In the broken centre, there are several piles of droids stacked and discarded, some still in their full form, others pulled apart. It was clear you weren’t the first ones here.
Din doesn’t let go of you right away. His arm remains tightly wrapped behind the small of your back, and he takes three or four steps away from the edge to pull you further into the wreckage. You can feel every step, every twist of his muscles against you, and your eyes finally look back up to him, watching as he inhales deeply. You feel it too, how hard his chest is against yours, almost like he’s taking you in to his lungs.
Then he quickly lets go, stepping back away from you.
The holo pad beeps wildy, a sound you hadn’t picked up on when Din had been holding you. You manage to look at it, seeing the bright red dots point you somewhere deeper into the cavern of ruins. Din looks at you, then down the darkened hallway, and clearly makes a decision as he takes a few calculated steps in the right direction. You follow close behind, but when you go to reach down into the pile and investigate, a gloved hand catches yours.
“Careful.” He says, and guides your hand back to your side. “There’s all kinds of junk in here. I’ll do it.”
Speechless, you just nod, and watch as he digs with none of the care he guided your hands with. It’s embarrassing how mesmerised you get watching him do just about anything, but you also feel a twinge of guilt at the earlier events.
Who did he think he was, leading you on with that fake ‘pilot lesson’, letting you get all close and personal only to pull away when you made a move? It wasn’t even a move, really. You’d just— grabbed him.
Okay, yeah, maybe it was a move.
But he’d started it. With those longing stares, poetic words and fucking hands— the same hands now yanking on the end of a familiar looking droid. Very familiar.
“Oh, shit. That’s— that’s it!” You say, your eyes wide as the Mandalorian pulls free a dull silver battle droid with red crosses over where it’s ‘eyes’ would be. “That’s the lazer one!”
Din promptly dropped it, angling it’s face away from you and toward him.
You feel your heart soar. A real lead— a tangible piece of your fathers history, however crushed and mangled it was, is really here. You were on the right track. You were on a track! You couldn’t help but sprint faster, mind already firing at a mile a minute.
“Okay— so we’re here. It’s here. Now what?” You say, bending down to look closer at the lifeless droid. It was bent out of shape now, clearly moved with zero care when it was taken from your planet. Or maybe in a rush. “You know anything about the rest of this stuff? Who would have dropped it here?”
Din carefully walks around the edge of the wreckage, keeping his back to you as he examines the rest of the stuff. To your knowledge, it’s all from the years just before the fall of the Empire. A lot of it is unfinished, made in a rush, and he’s right— it would all be extremely temperamental. Your dad used to keep it well away from the main part of the castle, knowing how fast it could turn into a mess.
Just like it did.
“Look at this.” He calls you over, still keeping his back to you and eyes over the top of the wreck. He’s standing a little too close to the edge for your liking, so you take to standing behind him, attempting to peak over his shoulder.
“It’s… a tank.” You say, looking up at him, slightly confused why this would be a noteworthy discovery. There’s crashed ships and tanks all over this planet. “Am I supposed to know what that means?”
“Look behind it. A clear line, nothing for miles. The entire planet is covered in junk— but it’s clear behind it. Enough room for it to turn around and back out.” You… hadn’t put that together, actually. He’s right again. The tank is pretty big, but there’s tracks in the sand, and you can only see them because, conveniently, nothing is in its path. It’s moved. Recently. “They’ve been using it to haul their loot in and out.”
“Who’s they?” Din looks back at you, and you hadn’t realised how close you’d gotten to him. It always seemed to happen like that— an unconscious magnetic force drawing you closer to him when you needed to feel safe. You step back, now that you think about it.
“Those used to be Imperial Assault hover tanks. Before your time.”
“You are not old enough to say ‘before my time’.” He laughs, and you feel drawn closer.
“It looks like the back of them have been cleaned out for storage. The hollow dip at the back—“ He points, shuffling back so your eye-line is in line with his hand. You were tracking him anyways. “None of that would be open. It’s all closed in, full of weapons or extra troopers. They needed at least three to drive the thing— now, it’d only fit the commander. The driver. The only people who know those tanks well enough to cut out the wiring and hollow them out would be—“
“Yeah.” You breathe out. Of course the Empire was involved, but this looked like a far bigger operation than just your fathers old projects. “So, we know the Empire, or a smaller force of what used to be them, is gathering old, experimental technology and tossing it on an abandoned planet. But, we don’t know who’s running that operation, or why.”
Din wraps his arm around your back and pulls you to him again, knocking the wind out of you. Before you can say anything, process the tightness of his body against yours, your feet leave the panel and you’re airborne again.
“Shit—“ You nearly shout, words muffled into the crook of Dins neck, and you feel him laugh as you bury your face further into the warmth of him. He doesn’t take off particularly fast, and you are pretty sure he’s flying you back down at half the pace he took you up, but your stomach still drops, and your arms pull his head so close your surprised he can see where he’s going. “Warning next time, please.”
“It’s better this way.” He says, the smile in his voice trilling through you, the slow descent nearing a close. As much as you aren’t a fan of flying in the air like this, having him this close is something you’d sacrifice pretty much anything for. “Stop thinking about it.”
“The jetpack is tiny. I don’t know how it holds you up, let alone me.” His other arm wraps around you now, fingers splayed along your ribcage, pressing hard against your skin.
“It’s okay. You’re fine. I promise.” It’s strange, how his words manage to calm you so easily, even with the tension between you.
Before you know it, there’s sand under your feet, and Din is stepping away again.
“We’ll move the ship up, find a place to stake out here for the night. The tracks were fresh, so they probably make regular rounds. If we stay hidden, we should have them by the time the sun rises.” Your eyes widen.
“Have them?”
“You’ll stay on the ship, and I’ll bring them in.” You roll your eyes, walking behind him as you both head back towards the ship. “We need to be quiet, in and out before the notice us. I’ll pick someone off for questioning.”
“I’m not helpless. I can come with you.”
“I didn’t say you were. But you’re staying in the ship anyways.” He slows his pace so you can catch up, his large frame brushing against your arm with every step. “If I need a quick exit, I’ll call you. You’ll have to fly to me.”
You burst out in a short, truncated laugh. You. Fly the Razor Crest. Unattended. In an emergency situation.
“That is hilarious. When they said Mandalorians’ don’t joke, Your voice flattens, and he… wait. He isn’t kidding. “Din. You’re joking, right?”
He laughs when you shove him, still staring straight out towards the horizon. This feels better— this is… better.
You berate him all the way back to the ship, and he keeps laughing.
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She was ethereal, almost. Din had seen a thousand skies, watched a million suns set on planets that never etched into his mind— but this was memorable. He would remember this until the end of his days.
You, face nearly pressed to the cold glass of the Crest, watching in wonder as the fourteen suns all set in a simultaneous, almost domino effect behind the horizon. Din admitted it was a sight to watch, but if he were anywhere else, if he were with anyone else who didn’t capture his attention so fully like you did, he doubted he would have noticed.
You haven’t turned back to him in a while. Not since you walked quietly through the hatch, settling yourself pointedly into the co pilots chair. He doesn’t know why you doubt your ability— he hardly had to help you fly through one of the most complicated asteroid belts in the galaxy. You could fly to him with your eyes closed.
He trusts you.
He finds himself waiting for it. Waiting for you to turn back around, focus your steeled eyes on him and smile or make fun of him. He hangs on every word— only managing to hide the way you wrap him in conversation because he was hidden from you. He nearly wishes he wasn’t— that he was more transparent. Maybe then he wouldn’t send so many of the wrong signals.
The truth was he wanted you. He let some other part of him take over during the flight here— spending so much time caring for you, locked away in closed rooms, watching you take slow, shallow breaths, unsure if you’d wake up or not. It did something to him. And then, your hand in his, driving his ship through open space… there was something old and nearly primal in that feeling in his chest. That all of the rest of this was his— and that you could be.
If you could see his face, you’d know.
Instead, you looked crushed when he pulled away. He knew what you’d said before— that you wanted this to be business. You probably had someone waiting for you back home, someone kind and warm, someone who could share moments like this morning with you and not have to pull away. Someone who could kiss you when they wanted, show you how bad they needed you whenever they wanted.
Most of all, someone else could have you tied to them in a way you chose— not by some contract.
Still, it always comes back to your eyes. That look you got, how disappointed you were when he pulled away. It gave him a horrible feeling in his gut, but also hope. There was a spark there, and he couldn’t stifle it any longer.
If you gave him the chance, he was going to let it burn him to the ground.
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“Hey.” Din calls to you, voice as soft as melted butter. “We should get set up. It’ll be a long night.”
Your eyes draw away from the fading blasts of orange across the sky, settling on his ink black visor. Sometimes, if he stood in direct sunlight like right now, and he looked up just a little, you swore you could see his eyes. Maybe just an outline, but there was something under there. Maybe it was bad to try and look, but you couldn’t help it. There was a flutter of eyelashes, a glint of the whites of his eyes. One time you think he was smiling, because you swore the hardly-there outline crinkled together.
You, instead of sharing any of these findings, just nod and follow him. When he turns, the light goes with him, and it’s nearly pitch black in the locked down Crest. The baby is hidden away, tucked tightly into his crib after a long day of wandering around and stuffing his face, and now that the Crest is hidden behind a large pile of garbage, it gives you the perfect vantage point on the tank. If it so much as creaks, you and Din will have eyes on it.
When the two of you go back upstairs to the cockpit, Din locks the doors behind you.
“So, who’s taking the first shift?” You hang your legs over the armrest and lean your back against the other side of the chair. “I vote me. I think I’ve slept more in the past two days than I have since I was coronated.”
“We both should stay awake. You watch the south.” He nods to the far side of where the Crest is parked. It’s dark, and you have to lean forward to make out the shapes. If anything moves, hopefully the calm of the sandy surface will be disturbed and make it obvious. “Okay?”
“Sounds good.” You reply, and shift in your seat. For the first time since you’ve met him, the silence is somewhat unpleasant. What happened only a few hours before— that short but intense moment of… intimacy? Something like that. Whatever it was, it still hangs in the air, draping heavily over your shoulders making you want to sink into the floor.
The hum of the ship ceases, and holy stars— it’s so silent. He was quiet by design, by trade, but you were used to filling the gaps. Finding topics that even the advisors and rulers you were least interested in could chat about, but filling this silence right now with Din? You have nothing. Nothing. Maybe you should of taken those talking points Correll offered you before you left—
Being honest with yourself, you could have all the talking points in the world and you’d still only want to ask him one thing.
“Can I ask you a question?” You blurt out, and he turns to you slowly, nodding and then return to watching his side of the planet. “What was that? This morning?”
“What was… what.” His voice is so calculated and calm. It’s… fuck, it’s hot. You shouldn’t think about it at all— but you analysed every word out of his mouth.
“That whole thing. Was that— I know we’ve been stuck together for while, and maybe we’re getting stir crazy or whatever. Was it just a… blip?”
“A blip?”
“Yeah. Like— when you lock two people in a storage closet, somethings bound to happen if they’re stuck there long enough.” Your heart was in your throat, and this was probably the most uncomfortable moment you’ve had in your entire life. Ever. “I know a lot has happened in the past few weeks, and you saved my life, and we’re on this really important trip right now— it’s a lot. I just… I’ve never been good at leaving things how they are—“
“I can tell.”
“And I don’t want anything uncomfortable between us. We’re partners. Good ones. I don’t want to mess that up.” He’s now staring at you, the steady rise and fall of the beskar across his chest giving you nothing. You finally manage to stop rambling when you watch his hands tighten around the armrests. The leather strains under the pull.
“You were uncomfortable?” Your eyes go wide, and a scoff-like laugh bubbles out before you can stop it.
“No. Stars, no, I wasn’t saying that—“ Okay, you tell yourself. Dial it back. “I just know that you are… you know, you. And you don’t want— that. And we’re married, but we aren’t. Married. Really. Plus the whole ‘only business!’ thing we— I said. Well, I said it, but you— you kind of agreed but then there was the whole ‘oh, let me teach you to fly’ as if that wasn’t some kind of move—“
“Hey. It’s okay.” He manages to get in between your insufferable rambling. You were clambering to try and get a lid on your fucking mouth but all it took was three words from him and your mind went blank. Fuzzy, even. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”
“What? No. I’m not—“ You swallow hard. Twelve years of training as a Queen, and you’re fumbling the minute he looks at you different. Fucking perfect. “You’re just… a lot to handle right now. And it’s late and I’m confused and a little terrified that I’m actually going to have to fly this ship without guidance and crash, stranding us on an abandoned planet no one knows about.”
You look back out to the completely silent planet, and suddenly have the urge to stand up. You get as close to the glass as possible, no longer able to bear the thought of looking at him.
“What are you trying to say?” He tries, the modulator making you shiver at the low, rough tone.
“I’m saying you’re hard to read. I thought I had it down, had you figured out but it’s… more confusing than I thought.” Words are less rambled— you’re more put together when you aren’t staring at him. Yeah, he definitely makes your brain fuzzy.
“I think you have me figured out.” Dins’ boots are loud as they take two steps, telling you he’s stood up. The cockpit is small, and two more will mean he’d be right behind you.
You keep staring out at the desolate planet, ignoring his looming figure over your shoulder.
You laugh dryly at his comment. “You think?”
“I do.” Your eyes shut for a moment, eyelashes fluttering.
“How do you figure that?” You’re out of breath, tired from everything that’s happened today and your rambling outburst, but then he does something that wakes up everything in your body.
You feel his hand, just the tips of his gloved fingers, graze along the back of your forearm.
“You read right through me. I wouldn’t let just anyone bang up my ship like that.” You let out a soft laugh.
“That’s your move, huh? Nearly killing us in the middle of nowhere?” The ship is so quiet, his soft little ‘mhmm’ nearly lost in the still cockpit. It’s gotten darker, too. The suns fully settled for the night on the opposite side of the planet, shrouding the ship so dark that you can only see the outlines of the little red and green buttons on the control pads. “I guess it worked.”
“Did it?” His fingers on your forearm get bolder, leaving goosebumps where they drift a little higher. “Because it seems like I’ve only made you more confused.”
“We can’t— you said it yourself. This… we can’t afford to be distracted.” Your words are hard, but your tone is so, so unconvincing.
“You’re right.” You go to spin around, but his hand wraps around your arm. You’re so shocked by the move that you freeze. “I said that.”
“Yeah…” The air in your lungs evaporates when his hand loosens and travels higher. His fingers trail up past your shoulder, slowly tracing your outline until he brushes past your collarbone.
“This is a business transaction. We signed a contract.” You nod, and he hooks his fingers into the few locks of hair that hang over your face, tucking them behind your ear. “You said you wanted nothing but that.”
“I…did.” Your eyes flutter shut, and you can hear your own heartbeat in your ears. He brushes past your ear and down, letting it drift through the strands and down the back of your neck.
“Why?”
“It’s better if it’s not— complicated.”
“Yeah?” His voice is impossible to ignore, all soft and pillowy like a velvet blanket. You clear your throat, and he steps just a little bit closer. You’re warm all over, feeling him so close. “Is that what you want now?”
“I…”
“Is it what you want?” His hand is still on you, warm through the layer of leather and your clothes— his clothes. “Or have you changed your mind?”
You suck in a sharp breath when you feel his cold helmet against your shoulder, telling you he’s leant down even further. You try your hardest to keep and eye on your post, but the blackened desert is an impossible target compared to what’s behind you. He lets the edge of his helmet drag lightly over your shoulder, like he’s leaving the kiss of metal in place of his mouth.
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?” You can hear his smile. “You don’t want that anymore?”
“No. I want— complicated.” All in one breath, you blur the lines of your carefully set relationship. Although, the only one who was drawing that line was you.
Your planet. Your rule. That was what was most important to you. It had to be. Out here, all this open space and chasing leads would come to an end, and all this simplicity would stay out here, between the stars. You didn’t have a choice but to shut yourself to the warmth creeping up your back, the soft hand brushing your cheek. You… you had to draw that line.
But a toe across it wouldn’t hurt, right?
A small, tiny step over that stupid line in the sand. Blurring it for a night. That couldn’t hurt anyone. In fact, it might be more painful to turn him away right now.
“Turn around.” He orders softly, and your eyes leave your post as you spin slowly to face him. You tilt your chin up, feeling his fingers catch on your jaw. He lets them slip along the soft skin, as if he’s exploring a part of you he’s never seen before. You wondered how he’d look at the rest of you— if this divine curiosity would follow him all over you. “There you are, cyar’ika.”
It sounds beautiful, whatever that word is, rolling off his tongue in that signature purr he does so well. You smile, letting your lashes flutter under the attention. He lets out a long breath, one that would kiss your cheeks and warm your face if he let it. You have no idea what he has planned for you, but you lean up on your toes and let him do it.
“As pretty as your eyes are, I want you to close them.” You do it so fast it makes him laugh, a soft, nearly gentle sound that breaks the quiet of the ship. “You take orders well— where was that eagerness before?”
“I’m more interested in this.” You say and pout, keeping your eyes shut tightly. He hums, and then moves away.
“Stay like that.” He says, but it sounds… different. Maybe he’s walked too far, but it was almost like his voice was lighter. Not backed with the same kind of cooling confidence he naturally exuded.
Something fell on the ground near you, and you flinched.
“Keep your eyes closed.” He says again, and something else drops. It falls softly, like a piece of material hitting the hull.
“They are closed.” You huff, impatient and a little nervous. What the hell was he doing…
“Good. Keep them like that.” He teases. Your heart manages to calm its rapid beating for a second or two until you hear the unmistakable hiss of a seal being opened.
Leather pulls under the weight of the helmet as he places it down on the chair.
You didn’t have to open your eyes. You could tell— the weight of it, the hiss and sound of his hands against the beskar. You knew he was now standing in front of you, while his helmet was on the pilots seat.
You didn’t so much as breathe.
“I was… I was going to do this on—“ He stutters, thinking for a second. “before. But I think I like you better like this.”
“Sweaty and in the dark?” His soft laugh is unobstructed, and it’s one of your new favourite things.
“The best things for a Mandalorian happen in the dark, cyar’ika.” You’re pretty sure you gasp at the double edged words, your heart skipping several and all too important beats.
“Oh?” You hear him take another step, and your back arches on instinct. “And… what are those things?”
“Let me show you one of them.” You sigh at the sound of his voice. It’s him, but smoother. Warmer. It feels like a gentle brush of warm wind, curving over your chest and settling deep inside of you. When he speaks to you, he only uses the softest murmur, and it makes you weak in the knees.
Then, your face floods with heat as two bare hands take your cheeks in their palms.
His hands were rough. Even through the gloves, you have no doubt they are worn on every day from the relentless hard labour he puts in. The gloves would be more for covering reasons than protection— you think it would actually be easier for him to pull a trigger without them. Maker knows you’ve spent enough time staring at his hands to know their details— every stitch and cross is known to you, but it’s nothing compared to the real thing.
They’re big, too. They match the rest of him, the tips of his fingers gently nudging your hairline as his thumbs drag softly along your slightly agape lower lip. You have no doubt you gasped or sighed when he put his hands on you, but you couldn’t help it. It felt good— better than it should. Just having his hands on you, flesh on flesh, was exhilarating in a whole new way. Feeling him like no one else had… or at least you think no one else had.
It didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered when he touched you. Then, he leant closer, and all hope was lost.
“Is this okay?” He asks, voice hardly above a whisper. His face is so close that his nose bumps against yours, a move that makes you giggle in surprise. You nod rapidly, trying not to wriggle too much and give the impressing that you want him to let go. It’s the last thing you want.
He sucks in a breath, going to say something else, but he must decide against it. Because he leans in then, and your mind fizzles to nothing but the Mandalorian, and the soft, sweet kiss he presses to your lips.
Everything moves in slow motion. The gentle move of his hands threading through your hair, the way he presses just slightly closer, giving you a little more pressure in the kiss. The way he smiles against you when you make a small noise. Everything swirls and flips in your stomach, it’s as if someone has set off a real firework in your stomach.
You take a step in, pressing your body to his. You feel him hard everywhere else— beskar lined along you, and the feeling is comfortable now that his lips are soft and warm and against yours. A reminder of flesh under the steel. You don’t move your hands to his face, afraid to see him that way, and instead settle them on his waist.
You tug on him, his hips stumbling forward after a clumsy step, and then collide with yours. He pulls away for a moment and you nearly whine.
“Din—“
“Mm?”
“Don’t fucking stop now.” You pull him again, and you feel him smile against your mouth.
He takes another step, pressing you between him at the side of the ship as he kisses you again, harder. He’s not as soft— still sweet and gentle but a little more desperate now, the show of hunger making you return it in earnest. He tastes good, so much better than the depths of your imagination could of thought up.
He hooks his hands under your thighs, the small squeak you make muffled into his mouth when you’re suddenly hauled upwards and your legs lock around his waist. It eases the ache in your chest, the closer confines of how he holds you. One arm stays underneath you, effortlessly keeping you suspended while the other holds the back of your neck. He keeps you sealed to him, tongue dancing with your own, and a small groan escapes him at the feeling, sounding low and nearly distant.
You couldn’t think. You couldn’t breathe— he was dissipating the rest of the world from you with nothing but warm bare hands and a talented mouth. You fist your hands in his hair and pull a little, not missing the way the soft strands curl around your fingers. You committed every small part he gave you to memory. His hand somehow felt bigger than they looked, and his hair was… long. And soft. Unfairly soft. You tug on it again, and he smiles a little and nips at your bottom lip.
“Don’t be cruel, cyar’ika.” His mouth trails away, leaving warm, wet kisses along your jaw, teeth trailing behind in a soft drag. For someone with their head in a tin can, he certainly knows what to do with his mouth.
“M’not. Y-you…” Breathless, you listen to him chuckle at the state he’s rendered you to. “You have nice hair. Long. Good to pull.”
“Mm. Really…” Mumbled against your neck, you shiver at the playful tone now drifting warmly over your neck.
You manage a small “Yeah. It’s pretty.”
“You can’t see it.” His nose drags up higher, and as he shifts, the hardness of his armour moves between your legs. You squeeze your eyes shut tighter.
“Shut up, smart-ass.” You grumble and he laughs, but obliges you. It’s slow again, and he licks into your mouth like he’s never tasted something so sweet in his life. He lets out an uninhibited groan, forehead pressing heavily into yours. He moves the arm underneath you, grinding your hips against his armour again, and your eyes roll back underneath your eyelids. “Fuck, Din.”
“You like that, don’t you?” He covers your mouth with his again so you lose your answer. “Sh—shit You’re so soft against me. So perfect.”
You nod as his teeth tug on your lips. “Yeah— yes. Not… not enough, though—“
“I know, I know cyar’ika. Let me—“ He cuts himself off, and with your eyes shut you have no idea what’s happened. It isn’t until he groans and swears under his breath that you know it isn’t good.
“Din?”
“They’re here.” Your back nearly misses the cool press of the side of the ship when Din pulls you off it, taking two or three steps backwards. You yelp in surprise, clinging to him for only a second, and then he leans down and you’re sat in a chair. “Stay.”
“Din—“ You go to stand but he’s too bulky in front of you, pressing a hand to your shoulder, and then he leans forward and kisses you on the forehead.
It’s so stupidly simple, but your heart flutters into a million little butterflies.
“Don’t go alone. Let me come with you.” You whisper into the darkness, your eyes still shut tightly.
“I’ll be fine.”
“I don’t care. Let me go with you.”
“Stay.” He leans forward again, kissing your cheek. “Please.”
You don’t think you’ve ever heard him say that before. It makes your heart stutter in your chest, and your stomach swirl with uncertainty.
“If you don’t come back, I will destroy this ship coming to get you.” Your eyebrows furrow together, and he laughs. This time, the warmth of it graces your cheeks, and it has you arching off the chair to get closer to him.
“I’ll be back with your enemies, my Queen. Before you know it.” You hear the click of his helmet go back on, and the feeling of him kneeling in front of you leaves too fast to register.
By the time you open your eyes, he’s gone, and the only trace of him left behind is the burn his lips left behind on your now too cold skin.
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