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yinyuedijun · 2 months

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Aventurine doesn't like being understood, but he does like understanding other people. It is essential for manipulation, for scheming, for control. And he likes controlling you especially—for keeping you close but your heart a comfortable distance away, for opening your legs when he wants the pleasure of your body, for playing your emotions however he needs. And the day will come when that skill will be invaluable—the day when he must die without shattering you. (Or: You are the only person in the universe who understands Aventurine in his mother tongue. He often regrets teaching it to you.)

5k words. gender neutral reader, established relationship, angst, non-graphic sex (reader bottoms, anatomy neutral), themes of cultural loss, references to slavery, aventurine’s canonically implied desire to die. MDNI.

Aventurine cannot lie in Avgin.

Deception does not come easily to him in his mother tongue. His command of it is too weak—and too kind. The universe was a different place in the days when his life was coloured by the warble of Avgin dialect. It felt simpler, partly because he was a child and partly because Sigonia was yet untouched by outsiders. There were no corporations, no casinos, no commodity codes. His entire world was sand, desert, mother, sister, father (or more often—ghost), goddess, tent, wagon, luck, sin, rain, blessing, Avgin.

Katican.

Aventurine is sure that he knew more than just those words. He was fluent as a child. He had conversations with his sister that were complex enough to make his heart hurt, though perhaps his heart was just constantly aching anyway. But the rest of his early words escapes him. He could maybe dredge them up if he thinks long enough, but he also isn't sure if his tongue and lips could form the shape of them anymore. Sometimes he still counts in Avgin, memorises phone numbers in it, but he doesn’t remember the last time he actually strung together a full sentence in the language.

When Aventurine was first stolen into slavery (a word that he had not known as a child, and still doesn't know in Avgin), he wasn’t given a Synesthesia Beacon. He had to rely on his ears and his wits, deciphering the harsh edges of the Katican dialect and then the strange garble of Interastral Standard Language. By the time he had a Beacon installed, it was already translating all speech into Standard—his dominant language.

Sometimes he feels a little aggrieved by it, but at least it wasn't Katican. He'd have blown out his brains if it were.

But it is easy to console himself: Avgin is not a useful language anyway. Dead languages have no value, and the Avgin dialect was killed along with its people. You can’t perform commerce in a dead language, can't negotiate contracts, can't enter a gambling den and use your silver tongue to rob people blind. You can't use a dead language to fell governments and extract resources; you can't use a dead language to bring an entire planet to its knees. You can’t use a dead language to gamble your life; you can't use it to save yourself from the gallows.

You cannot deceive people in a language that is defined by sand, sister, goddess, ghost.

Aventurine cannot lie in Avgin. His command of it is too weak, and there is no one left to which he can lie, anyway.

When you ask Aventurine to teach you his first language, he gives you an amused look.

“Why Avgin?” he asks. “No one speaks it anymore. I can teach you Common Sigonian if you’d like. Or we could learn Xianzhounese together. Maybe Intellitron code? I know a little.”

“You speak Avgin,” you argue.

“Not often,” he says. “And badly when I do.”

“But it's still your language. And I want to understand you.”

Aventurine has to stop himself from laughing. Understand him? He hates being understood. When people understand him, it makes him predictable. And unlikeable. Hardly a position from which he can manipulate people in.

You understand him well enough to know that.

“You'll have to give me a better reason than that,” he says neatly. “Make it worth my while. Reward me.”

You look at him as you ponder, your eyes lingering on his. Perhaps trying to read him, though he prefers to think you're just enjoying the sight of them.

“I’ll teach you my language as well?”

“You mean—you'll reward my hard labour with more work?” he says, lighthearted.

You frown at him despite the joke. “You don't want to understand me better than what a Synesthesia Beacon would allow?” He blinks, pausing. “It’ll be convenient too. We can talk shit about other people in public and no one will understand us.”

Aventurine considers you. He doesn't like being understood, but he does like understanding other people. It is essential for manipulation, for scheming, for control. And he likes controlling you especially—for keeping you close but your heart a comfortable distance away, for opening your legs when he wants the pleasure of your body, for playing your emotions however he needs. And the day will come when that skill will be invaluable—the day when he must die without shattering you.

He also likes the idea of talking shit in public.

“I'm listening,” he says, voice lilting. You lean in, smiling. Sweet. It makes his heart feel something he isn't used to. Something addictive. Something disgusting. He scrambles to cover it with one of the usual tools: humour or distraction or maybe just plain old lying—his most reliable weapon.

“I'll throw in a kiss?” you try.

He hums. “Just one?”

“One per day.”

“Three.”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

“Well, I am a businessman.”

You snort, but he knows you're endeared. You have very noticeable tells when you’re flustered.

“Okay,” you say. “Three kisses on days you teach me.”

“Deal.”

Aventurine remembers more Avgin than he thought he would.

It comes to him slowly, painstakingly. You aren't interested in structured lessons, and he wouldn't be able to provide them anyway. He has a nonexistent grasp of grammar aside from this sounds right and that sounds strange, and Avgin dialect is both so niche and so dead that no textbooks are available. The scholars have abandoned the language as much as the politicians abandoned its people. Aventurine only has you, his fragmented memory, and whatever questions come to mind as you live out your days with him.

Mostly, you ask him about basic vocabulary. Sometimes you ask him to repeat sentences from your conversations in Avgin, like he’s some kind of multilingual parrot. Each prompt forces him to wade through the fog in his mind, the one that’s been shrouding his childhood memories until now. He's startled at how naturally the old words roll off his tongue: One, two, three, four. Good morning. Good evening. Good night. Sweet dreams. Five, six, seven, eight. You're lying to me. Why do you always lie to me? I don't know what you're talking about. Nine, ten, eleven, twelve. Welcome home. Have you eaten? Have some bread. I made you stew. Twenty, thirty, forty, fifty. That was dangerous. I thought you wouldn't make it back to me. Sometimes I think you want to die. One hundred, one thousand, one million, one billion. I'm sorry. Come here. Let me kiss you. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.

When you say, How do I ask you to let me hold you, he answers easily. He'd heard the words so often as a child: Let me hold you, Kakavasha. Let Mama hold you. His mouth forms the sounds without conscious thought.

He regrets it almost immediately.

When Aventurine hears it from you—stilted, halting, but no less gentle—he stops breathing. Let me hold you. You say it all the time in Standard, but it feels different in Avgin. More painful. A strange sense of panic closes in on him when he's wrapped up in you, thinking in Avgin, thinking sand, sister, goddess, ghost. He holds you tightly, like the rags cut from his father’s shirt, or his mother’s locket won back from the shell-slashers, or a bag of poker chips beneath a card table, clutched within his trembling grip.

“Aventurine, is something wrong?” you ask in Avgin, and he replies in Standard with his usual smile.

“Hm? No. What could be wrong if I have you here?”

Lying is one of his greatest tools. Sex is another one. So he says, “I think I'd like my reward now,” and he runs his lips along your jaw, your pulse, the spot over your heart (there's a word for that in Avgin but not Standard, he tells you), until you're laughing. I thought you wanted three kisses, you tease, and he replies, Who said I wanted to kiss you on the mouth?

But he coaxes open your thighs, and once he's inside you, he collects his payment properly. He kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you—and you swallow his lies whole.

There are some things that Aventurine doesn't teach you. Mostly, they’re things that he can’t teach you.

There are countless gaps in his Avgin. His speech is painfully childish—probably more childish than it was when he actually stopped speaking it. He doesn't know how to swear (something that disappoints you) and he doesn't know how to flirt (something that devastates you). He doesn’t know any words that would be useful for work either: commercialization, governance, stakes, winnings, profit. When you ask him what his job title is in Avgin (“Was senior management even a thing in Avgin society?”), he laughs and gives you the word for gambler.

Then there are the words that he remembers—has remembered his whole life—but never says. Not to you, and not to himself. He doesn't teach you any prayers. He doesn't teach you any blessings. He doesn't teach you about Mama Fenge, or the Kakava Festival, or how the rain fell when he was born. When you ask him, What holidays did you celebrate when you were little? he shrugs and says, We didn't have any. Sigonia’s too bleak to do any partying.

Then you ask him one day, while your bodies are spent in the afterglow of sex, sticky with sweat and sweetness, how to say I love you. And he goes quiet.

Love is a cheap word in Interastral Standard. In the language of globalisation and trade, love has been commercialised, commodified, capitalised for power. You say it to him in many contexts: I love this, I love that, I love you. He hardly ever reacts, and he's never said it back. It would feel unnecessary and also cruel if he did: Aventurine has only ever said the words himself as either a joke or a manipulation.

But love feels different in Avgin than in Interastral Standard, doesn't sound like a thing that can be traded or bought. Kakavasha only ever said the word love to his mother, to his sister, to his father's grave. Love in his mother tongue feels priceless.

When Aventurine thinks about you saying it—I love you, Kakavasha, in clumsy, earnest Avgin—something so painful swells in his throat that he can hardly breathe.

“There is no word for love in my language,” he tells you.

You blink. “Okay, then what's an idiom for it?”

“There is none. There’s no word or phrase expressing love.”

You raise a brow. “That’s hard to believe.”

“Is it?” He smiles. “There’s no Avgin in the known universe who cares about love. Only scheming, thieving, and treachery—and you can't do those things when love is involved.”

You look at him in alarm. “Why are you saying that?” You're practically squirming in your discomfort. “I don't know why you think I'd believe such a racist stereotype.”

“It’s not a stereotype,” he says. “I'm not talking about the Avgin culture. I'm talking about myself.”

After all, he is the only Avgin left.

It is an unfair thing to say. A cruel thing to say. After all the laughing and kissing and crying and fucking, after all the tender eyes and gentle words from you—it is probably the worst pain imaginable: I don't give a shit about you. He waits for you to cry.

But you only stare at him calmly, studying him. You brush the hair out of his eyes, seeing them clearly.

“If you lie to me all the time,” you say in Avgin, “eventually I'll stop believing anything you say.”

Aventurine is speechless. His heart does that addictive, disgusting thing again. He thinks about leaving, but then you say, Let me hold you, and he can't do anything other than obey.

Avgin dialect was once included in the Synesthesia Beacon list of functions. The Intelligentsia Guild added it before the Second Katica-Avgin Extinction Event, when the IPC was trying to get a political foothold on Sigonia via the Avgin people. The language was alive then, with enough value to be included into the Synesthesia LLM by the linguists.

But since the Extinction Event—since Kakavasha ran away from home—the Synesthesia data on Avgin has been stagnant, a fossil. Aventurine knows because he's subscribed to software updates for certain languages (Avgin Sigonian, Common Sigonian, Interastral Standard, and now your mother tongue). He gets pinged every time there's a new addition for slang, for neologisms—but there hasn't been a ping for the Avgin dialect since he had the Beacon installed. The live translation function hasn't even been available since the previous Amber Era. When he checks its page on his Synesthesia app, it's very clear why—

SIGONIAN, AVGIN DIALECT SPEAKERS: 0 STATUS: Extinct END OF SERVICE: 2156 AE

The complete death of the language has led to an irritating dilemma for you and Aventurine. You keep running into words that he doesn't know—this time not because of his childlike speech, but because they never existed in his language to begin with. Ocean, tropical, rainforest. Starskiff, accelerator, space fleet. Stock market, shortselling, mutual funds. Black hole, event horizon, spaghettification. All things that never came up for Kakavasha, but now come up for Aventurine, and the language has not evolved to include it.

He always wants to switch to Standard to discuss these things, but you're insistent on speaking in Avgin as much as possible. He doesn't know why, but he doesn't mind humouring you—partly because he likes to indulge you, and partly because he’s grown used to hearing the honeyed timbre of Avgin dialect in your household. The place would feel strange without it.

So you start filling the gaps with other languages, filtering them through the lyricism of Avgin. Loanwords, he thinks they’re called. You take ocean, tropical, rainforest from Amazian; starskiff, accelerator, space fleet from Xianzhounese; stock market, shortselling, mutual funds from Interastral Standard. For the astrophysics terms, you try directly translating them—with limited success.

“Can't I literally just say ‘black hole’?” you ask in Avgin, and he nearly spits out his coffee.

“Please don't. That's a dirty word.” He can't bring himself to say what it means, but from the way you’re laughing, you can clearly guess.

“I thought you said you didn't know how to swear.”

“You've just reminded me how.”

“You're welcome.” You look on the verge of cackling. Aventurine finishes his coffee and wonders when you're going to surprise him with your newfound vulgarity.

“Let's just do the space terms based on Standard,” he says. Begs.

“No, that's so boring.”

“Then let's do your language.”

You open your mouth. Close it. Give him a blank look.

“You don't know how to say those words in your mother tongue either, do you,” he intuits.

“Well, ‘spaghettification’ doesn't really come up in everyday conversation, does it?”

“Then maybe we don't need it.” He smiles, senses an opportunity. Smells blood. “How about ‘love’? I'd much rather know how you say that. I bet it sounds beautiful.”

You give him a long look. Your eyes are vulnerable when you share it: Love. I love you. He’s fascinated by the sound of it. Your voice is never that fragile when you say it in Standard. It's never so earnest. He repeats it, staring at you, and your gaze falls to the ground. His mouth curls.

“I like it,” he says. “Let's use that. It'll sound nice in Avgin.”

You try to recover. “Sure. That works. But back to ‘black hole’—”

And the two of you continue like that for days, weeks, months. It feels like a complete bastardization of his mother tongue on some days, in some conversations. Almost unrecognisable. But it doesn't feel bad. It’s all he has, it's all you have, and when he walks into your home, he starts speaking it without thinking: your bastard, patchwork language. The Avgin dialect that exists only in your house. A tongue that can only be understood by a liar.

And then, one lazy Sunday morning, he gets a familiar ping. He expects it to be Interastral Standard, as usual. The language balloons with each planet that the IPC colonises.

But instead, he opens his screen and freezes.

SIGONIAN, AVGIN DIALECT SPEAKERS: 2 STATUS: Endangered. SERVICE RESUMED: 2157 AE NEW UPDATES: 103 loanwords and 5 neologisms added.

He can't stop looking at the status. Endangered. Endangered, which means dying, but alive. The Avgin dialect is alive again. The Intelligentsia Guild determined it, so it must be true. But Aventurine can't agree: there are no Avgin speakers in the known universe other than the two of you, and what you speak isn't real Avgin. The Avgin spoken by his mother and father and sister is dead; the Avgin spoken by Kakavasha is dead. The festivals are gone; the deserts have been terraformed. There are no wagons; there are no dances; there are no prayers. There are no blessings, and he has no home—

As long as you are alive, the blood of the Avgin will never run dry.

His throat locks up.

“Aventurine?” you ask. Your voice is drowsy, but concerned. “Is something wrong?”

He looks at you from his phone, a polished smile on his face.

“No.” His syllables are plain and efficient in the noise of Interastral Standard: “Just looking at details for a new assignment. It’ll be a long one.”

“Oh.” You frown. “Will you be away from home for a long time, then?”

He stops himself from swallowing. “Yes, I'll be away from the house. For several months, probably.”

“Okay.” Your voice is small. “Take care of yourself, okay? I'll miss you.”

Each word you speak resonates with heartbreak. It always does in these conversations, even in Standard—but the sorrow is amplified in Avgin. His mother tongue has an inherently sad quality to it, he's noticed. His people have lost so much over their history—their language is one of loss. It's his language of loss. Kakavasha did all his grieving in Avgin; Aventurine has never felt sorrow in Standard. When the language died, so did Kakavasha—and all his regrets with it.

“You'll come home to me, right?” you ask. It's a beautiful sentence in Avgin. A heartrending one. He feels something that he hasn't known since he was a child.

It's a feeling he has to kill.

“Yes,” he says in Standard. “Of course I'll come back.”

This is not the first time that Aventurine has been mistaken for dead, but this is the longest time.

The latest world to join the IPC network was a tough acquisition. It had been ruled by a despot who wreaked havoc on both the people and the planet, and who was too stupid and reckless to resolve conflicts with his trade partners. He probably would have blown up the whole star system had he been left to his own devices. Aventurine had no qualms about bringing him to ruin, nor did he have qualms about nearly dying in the process.

If things had gone his way, he'd either be dead or missing. This would have been the perfect opportunity to do the latter, actually—to be freed from the IPC. Free to drift alone, speaking with strangers in strange, unfamiliar tongues. No connection to his past, to the cruel history of his luck, to his commodity code. No tether to his inherently unjust destiny. But instead he's back in your house, pockets heavy with his borrowed wealth, speaking to you in his bastardised, childish Avgin. I'm sorry. Come here. Let me kiss you. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.

Your Avgin is—shockingly fluent. He doesn't know how. He can't think about it right now. All he can process is the wounded animal noise of your speech as you yell at him, as you cry. Like an injured songbird, or a weeping child. Why did you leave, why did you lie, why do you always lie to me, why don't you give a shit about me, you spit. Why do you want to die, why do you want to die, why do you want to die, you keep saying. Sand, sister, goddess, ghost, he keeps hearing. Sand, sister, goddess, ghost. Don't leave me, big sister. People will die. Why do you have to go?

“I’m sorry,” he tries again, this time in your language. “I'm so sorry. Come here. Let me hold you.”

You collapse into your mother tongue. Aventurine is both relieved and horrified. Relieved that he doesn't need to hear the language of his grief—horrified that he needs to hear yours. He's never heard you cry like this. He's never heard you break like this. These must have been the words you used when the soldiers found you hiding in your closet, when they dragged you out of your home. You were just a child.

Aventurine doesn't know the words you are using—you've never taught them—but he still understands them.

You're very malleable when you’re sad; even more so when you're hysterical. Aventurine understands this about you, and he understands how to calm you—this time in your native tongue—and he understands how to kiss you. He understands that you need to feel close to him. He understands that there are ways to accomplish this other than sex. A normal person would talk it out, have an honest conversation, come to a mutual understanding, and maybe even stop trying to kill himself. They wouldn't fuck you into the mattress while your face is still wet with tears.

But Aventurine is not a normal person. He doesn't know how to have an honest conversation, and he doesn't want to be understood. Lying is his greatest weapon, and sex is a close second. So he kisses you until you’re too breathless to cry, fucks you until you can't think, and makes you come so hard that you’re in too much bliss to grieve. And maybe it's horrible of him, but he enjoys it. He enjoys the way your body takes him in so easily, the way your nails dig into his back, the way you tighten around him when you climax, so wet and needy for him. The way you beg for him in your language for liars as he spends himself inside you: I love you, Aventurine, I love you, I love you, I love you—

Only because it feels good. This is all only because he enjoys fucking you. This is all only because you enjoy fucking him. This is all it'll ever be, and it'll be this way until he gets to meet his end.

(Some months ago, Aventurine started dreaming in Avgin.

It surprised him when he first noticed it. The last time he remembers having a dream in his native tongue, he was twelve years old and still in chains. And even then, it had become a sporadic, strange thing. Awful to wake up from. One minute he was with his mother and sister on a cool, rainy day, speaking fluently in Avgin as he laughed and played—and the next minute, he was being shaken awake in his cage, hearing the cruel lash of Katican.

But ever since he's started speaking Avgin with you, he's been dreaming in it. Vividly. Sometimes he's a child in these dreams, and sometimes he's grown. He's always back in the Sigonian desert, among the tents and the campfires and his family wagons. His mother and sister are alive. Sometimes his father is too. The skies roar with thunder and the stellar winds are always harsh, but they always keep him cocooned up in their arms. He's always warm.

Sometimes Aventurine dreams of nicer days. Clear skies, warm sun, cool breeze—all blessings from the Mother Goddess. On these days, he tends to be an adult, and you tend to be there with him. Your Avgin is fluent but strange, filled with funny loanwords and peculiar slang. His father likes the neologisms and starts using them—but only in wrong ways. His sister finds it embarrassing and keeps apologising to you.

His mother loves you. She loves you so much it hurts. This is how I know you're blessed, Kakavasha, she says, glowing. You’re so lucky to have found such a kind person.

Kakavasha knows this. He knows he's lucky, and in his dreams, that isn't a bad thing. In his dreams, his luck means that his home is not violently excised from his heart: his father never dies; his mother never dies; his sister never dies. The tents are not burned; the wagons are not destroyed. He is never forced to forget his people's dishes, their songs, their language, their joy. And in his dreams, his luck means that he meets you anyway, without all the loss and the chains and the lying.

In his dreams, he is able to bring you to the desert. He is able to teach you the Avgin he spoke as a child, to cook all the meals his mother used to make, to share with you their coffee and their tea. He teaches you prayers. He teaches you blessings. He tells you about Mama Fenge, about how the rain fell when he was born. He takes you to the Kakava Festival, shows you how to dance, sings to you all the Avgin songs until you're singing back. He presses his palm to yours in prayer; he kisses you in devotion, not avoidance.

Sometimes the two of you still fight, the same fights that you have in real life, but he handles them with honesty. He listens to you. He apologises to you. He tells you that he’ll change, and he means it—because this world is a kind one, and he has no need to be so cruel to you.

In this kind world, when you lay in bed with his arms tight around you, you smile at him and say, I love you, Kakavasha. You say it in Avgin—real Avgin, not the dialect born from genocide and deceit—and when he responds, there's not even a little bit of insincerity in his voice. Because Kakavasha never became Aventurine in these dreams, so he has no Interastral Standard in which he can lie to you, no silver tongue with which he can manipulate you, no commodity code that inspires his fear of being controlled by you. Kakavasha only knows Avgin, and he only has his sand, his family, his goddess, his home.

And he has you. Finally, he has you.

He kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you—and then he tells you the truth.)

Aventurine cannot lie in Avgin.

You noticed this very early on: whenever he lies to you, he always switches to Interastral Standard. Probably he wouldn't be able to do it in his mother tongue. His command of it is too weak, and the words he knows are all too kind. He speaks with the innocence of a child, and children cannot deceive people in the way that adults can. Children cannot perform commerce or negotiate contracts. They cannot use a silver tongue to rob people blind. They cannot save themselves from the gallows.

So Aventurine’s Avgin is defenceless. Vulnerable. So vulnerable it hurts. You are not so vulnerable in your first language because your captors spoke it on occasion, and you learned to lie in it to gain their pity. You told Aventurine that knowing it would help him understand you, but this was a deception. Aventurine’s mother tongue was a language of trust, but yours is a dialect of abuse.

The Avgin language died before Aventurine could be gutted by it; this is why it disarms him so completely. This is why he’s so indulgent and so warm when you use it with him, why he yields to all your requests. Not requests for money or gifts—you’re certain those are meaningless to him—but for affection. Let me hold you. Let me touch you. Let me kiss you. He can never say no.

This is also why he loves hearing you speak his mother tongue, you think—it makes him feel at home, it makes him feel safe. Maybe it even makes him feel loved. He never seems so at peace speaking any other language, so you try to use Avgin as much as possible. You like seeing him happy. You like it even if it means you need to teach him your own native language in exchange, even when it means you need to hear him say all the things your captors used to say. You don't mind it if it's him. You never mind the harm he inflicts on you, especially not when it brings you closer to him.

It is convenient that he cannot lie in Avgin. You only wanted to learn it in the first place because he talks in his sleep—mostly in Standard, but sometimes in his native tongue. And now that you know he cannot lie in Avgin, you also know he's always being honest in his dreams. Honest when he throws his arms around you in his sleep. Honest when he grabs you so tightly that you bruise. Honest when he buries his face into your neck and whispers prayers into your skin.

Most of the words he says are common ones, the earliest vocabulary that he taught you. But there are some things he's withheld from you—and to learn those things, you had to track down linguists from the Intelligentsia Guild, bribe them with your dirty money, have them give you all their deprecated, extinct data. It felt two-faced, and it was violating, but it was the only way. You already know that Aventurine would rather die than translate his feelings for you, would never want this part of himself understood.

I'm sorry for always leaving you.

I'm sorry for making you cry.

I can't bear the thought of losing you.

Freedom would be too lonely without you.

I don't want to hurt you anymore.

I don't want to lie to you anymore.

I missed you.

I want you.

I need you.

I love you.

end

afterword

#aventurine x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #x reader #hsr smut #aventurine smut #lol it isnt really smut but it is nsft i suppose #nsft #yueshuo.fics

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showtoonzfan · 4 months

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so people just gonna ignore the fact that after they finish cleaning up the new hotel and the song Angel is just gonna go back to Valentino to get abused and exploited? Why doesn’t nobody care that he’s getting abused? Why hasn’t Charlie done anything the past 6 months to help him? Why isn’t husk or Cherri helping him out? He has to stand up for himself and he and his dad boyfriend have to fight the rapist together? Only love can save him? Love is the only way to get redeemed? I hate this fucking finale. Viv said it would take a year in half or two years for season 2 but i honestly don’t trust her. She’s lies too much. Now I’m hearing it won’t be out till 2027 from that screen rant article

Yeah Angel’s whole situation near the end of the season really signifies how brain dead these characters are and how Viv as a writer ain’t the exactly brightest bulb. Just like in Helluva Boss, none of her characters use their fucking brains. If this show was smart Charlie would have spoken up about Angel’s abuse, or done something HERSELF considering she’s the most powerful demon besides her dad but oh right, Viv is an idiot who doesn’t know how to use her characters to her advantage- O-Oh I mean…….Charlie’s a doormat. Even then she could have immediately went to Lucifer and asked for help. This is honestly why tackling a very dark theme in a show like this doesn’t work because you can’t just tell us that Angel is literally trapped in an abusive relationship and can’t escape due to the contract and just…gloss it over later. If Lucifer is at the top then I’m sure he has the power to break demon contracts, at least that’s what I’m assuming since the world building for this show is fucking nonexistent.

Angel’s arc itself is a mess too but I’ll get more into that once I release my review post I’m working on.

#vivziepop critical #spindlehorse critical #hazbin hotel critical #anti vivziepop #Hazbin #reply #ask

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rubyclover · 14 days

Text

I said I can’t write but if felt nice getting that other idea out of my head. So I wrote this and will post. Technically I started trying to write this like a month ago… Please ignore the constant switching between past and present tense. It’s something I never seem to notice until someone else points out where it is.

Prompt: Professionals hate him but he was right! [Adam] Heaven and Hell come to the realization that The First Man played a larger part in the three realms’ political/social ecosystem than they thought. His absence leaves a vacuum that Lute is unable to fill but she may not need to because Hell is solving the problem themselves… The Morningstar Family can’t run from this.

No ABetaO we expire like Adam~

Imagine that Adam dies, the hotel has never looked better, the residents have healed up and Charlie gets another TV appearance. Lucifer is even more depressed than before but hides it. Adam is gone She’s going to reveal Sir Pentious’ redemption with evidence that is NOT childishly scribbled on key cards. Instead of the interview taking place in the 666News studio it’s held outside the hotel. She will take questions, live, right after the interview. Katie Killjoy wants to give the public a chance to cause chaos for ratings, so she puts Charlie in a vulnerable position.

Things go great… for the first 20 minutes. The interview isn’t even half way done when someone from the crowd interjects after Charlie says ‘The Sinners have a better life now that the Exterminations are permanently canceled.’

That person’s voice is calm but still pissed as Hell. They fire back that no, Sinners don’t have an easier life now that the Exterminations are over. It’s worse! Charlie and the crowd perk up.

The voice moves to the front. They’re short with plain street clothes, hood up. It’s obvious they’re poor and at the bottom of Hell’s pecking order. A couple of Imps are with them equally disheveled and tired looking. The man goes on to point out some rather hard truths.

Thanks to the last Extermination, angelic steel has become a hot commodity. While uncommon right now, there’s a pipeline to obtain an angelic weapon. All you need is enough money. Carmilla Carmine doesn’t care about how her product is used after purchase.

‘Permanent Murder’ is a new trend on HellTube netting ridiculous profits. The main targets are vulnerable Sinners, usually the scared and alone new arrivals, Imps and Hellhounds. All killed by beautifully glowing angelic weapons.

Overlords are more formidable with these weapons so the chance of contractees escaping, like Angeldust, has become damn near impossible even if they destroyed their contract. Some desperate souls were happy with their messed up immortality. It gave them some hope, ‘at least I have a chance to turn things around eventually,’ but that pathetic security is gone.

The Exterminations kept said Overlords in check to a degree. They were more inclined to take care of their underlings because that guaranteed their safety. Now? Just get an angelic gun for all your troubles. Valentino is having a fucking field day.

The ‘permadeath’ toll for one year will be ten times the amount of one Extermination Day considering how much Hell’s citizens like to kill Sinners…

Not to mention, whole industries in Hell, from top to bottom, are starting to crash. Their purpose or sales revolved around the Exterminations. Some workers cannot afford to lose their job and have to sell their soul against their will.

Etcetcetc

As the man speaks Charlie is surprised to see heads nodding in agreement! Someone comments that they hadn’t seen their Sinner friend in a few days and tries not to panic while another face falls in the crowd and wrings their hands together. An Imp with curved horns standing beside a young Hellhound sweats profusely and starts to leave. Tension moves through the public. Not just the ones in front of the stage but also those watching TV.

Despite her best efforts Charlie cannot lift the crowd’s mood. She realizes prematurely revealing Sir Pentious’ redemption is the only way to salvage this growing disaster. Unfortunately the man’s timing is perfect because the second she opens her mouth he turns his anger on the Morningstars.

He calls out how much her family misrepresents themselves as rulers. They don’t do anything for Hell anymore. They spend most of their time fucking around while the Sinners suffer. The other Sins manage their rings and hellborn, not Lucifer or Lilith. All three of the Morningstars can’t truly understand human suffering yet they profess to know how to best handle it. With no idea what it means to be human yet they pass judgement on them.

The crowd becomes agitated and the Imps beside the man move closer to him. They aren’t trying to draw safety from the Sinner but are taking defensive positions. Charlie realizes this isn’t someone speaking up in the heat of the moment. This is a planned speech. He’s highjacking her broadcast!

She sees the Sinner clench his fists and feels herself start to sweat. Why was he saying any of that? Yes, life will be a bit hard at first but now everyone can come together and rebuild! There are so many possibilities available to The Pride Ring. It would improve lives. Change was always good they just had to be careful. Yet the stranger goes on.

He claims that Lucifer is a washed up angel that can’t comprehend mortality because of his maladaptive dreaming and pride, Lilith is apathetic to Sinners and wishes to aggravate Heaven no matter how much Hell will suffer and Charlie is so sheltered that she thinks PTSD can be solved by clapping and saying positive affirmations.

Little is known about the royal family but the stranger’s comments sway the crowd. The hotel’s original commercials got the time of day because of Charlie’s status, not because the facility had managed to accomplish anything. Lucifer barely appears at all even when large fights break out leveling half of Pentagram City. And Lilith? Missing for 7 years after riling up all of Hell multiple times, causing Heaven to start the Exterminations.

The stranger calls the hotel a disgusting joke. Calls out how Charlie is trying to ‘pass the buck’ over to Heaven. The Pride Ring’s actual rulers are Overlords and they make sure Sinners suffer and continue to act depraved whether they like it or not. Her family has the power to take control and lessen the city’s suffering but they don’t. Instead they play with their little pet project .

Why are they focusing on shipping problems elsewhere? There’s a better way to solve the pain and suffering at the source than waiting! Fix Pentagram City! Show Heaven that the current number of Sinners isn’t a threat!

‘For all the crying and sniveling you do Princess Charlotte, you sure don’t actually help where it counts! I’m sure you care about Sinners but only on the same level as someone cares about cute public park ducks.’

Vaggie, who had been standing to the side of the stage leaps forward, places herself in between the stranger and her girlfriend. Everyone’s raised emotions have put her on edge. She ignores the harsh gasps when her angelic spear slides free and into her hands. ‘Back up! Now!’

Charlie’s heart sank at the escalation. She understood her girlfriend was still tense from the extermination but all their hard work was starting to fray around the edges! She just hoped her dad didn’t-

The King of Hell himself appears through a portal shortly after gathering himself together. The opening looked angrier in color, matching his mood. Sickly green lines run throughout the glow, radiating blistering heat. Parts of the stage began to melt and the forgotten camera crew swivel to their ruler. Lucifer’s face is set in stone but his bright flickering eyes give him away.

‘Who the fuck are you?’ He snarls, apple topped cane slamming onto the stage causing some of it to splatter. ‘How dare you speak to my daughter that way.’ Lucifer’s face morphs into a more demonic grimace. Katie Killjoy scrambles from her chair and off the stage at the same time as Charlie vaulting up to place a hand on Lucifer’s shoulder whispering ‘dad no!’ She doesn’t want the hotel’s improved reputation to evaporate. A confrontation with someone on live TV would scare people away!

Lucifer growls in the back of his throat, looking at where he assumes the bastard’s eyes are under his hood. Smoke and embers sizzle out from the corner of his mouth and inbetween teeth. He hated acting this way but he had an image to uphold. ‘Answer your King you wretch. Don’t confuse my inaction with benevolence. You’re testing my patience!’

After a beat or two of staring each other down the stranger has the gall to ‘tsk’ off to the side as if spitting. ‘As you with your majesty. It’s all fine by me.’ A small, scared hand reaches up and whips off the dirty hood exposing his face to all of Hell.

People instantly whip out their phones. His face is shockingly similar to Lucifer’s, in fact a basic carbon copy sans a few attributes.

Cameras catch alabaster skin and soft, blond, curly hair, short, wiry build, vivid green eyes, pale coral cheek markings, pointed ears and four demon wings the same color as his skin.

Leaf green eyes stair directly into Charlie’s while electing to ignore both fallen angels. He stands ramrod straight. Cutting a regal silhouette despite the filth on his body and clothes.

‘My name is Cain Adamson, The Wandering Star.’ He bows in a fashion Charlie hadn’t seen in all her galas. ‘Lucifer Morningstar’s first born and bastard son. It’s nice to finally meet you sister mine… I’ll be taking your family’s crown for my father.’

[So in this AU Cain rescued Adam’s body and resuscitated it. They had a familial bond even when Cain got banished for murdering Able and found out his bio dad was Lucifer. Eve didn’t pay much attention to her first born out of guilt so Adam stepped up. No one shamed her. Adam never felt like Cain was separate from his other kids even though he looked nothing like him. Now Cain wants to provide for his father who’s trapped in hell and in really bad condition by booting the Morningstars out of power in the Pride Ring.] Dunno about pairing but Adamsapple or Guitarhero would be a safe bet. Either way Lucifer will suffer lol

[wtf do I call this? Family Feud AU? Chessboard AU? Secret Brother AU? Idk h e l p ]

#hazbin hotel au #hazbin hotel cain #hazbin hotel charlie #rubycloverau #rubycloverwrites #adamsapple #or #guitarhero

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urdepressedslut · 11 months

Note

If your requests are open…

Could you please do a Mob Bucky x Reader where the Reader is pregnant and gives birth to a premie baby and he baby has to stay in the hospital for 4 months. And Bucky wants to comfort the reader but he’s feeling sad too, so he goes a little crazy because he is angry that he can’t help the reader. So he leaves and the reader thinks that Bucky left her. You can make up how it ends. But please add angst and fluff. I get it if you don’t do it. Thank You!

hi lovely 💕 thank you so much for sending in this request, i read through it and loved the whole idea from beginning to end. i hope you like what i’ve written💗🥰

Out of My Control

♡ Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: You awake in the middle of the night discovering that your water broke, you realize you’re having a baby— the only issue is that it’s several months early. Your hospital room gets tense as you and Bucky come to terms with the big changes.

♡ Warnings: language, angst, fluff, premature baby birth, all things to do with pregnancy, argument, stress, hints to panic attacks, self hate, signs of depression, me probs writing anything medical wrong

main masterlist

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | MATURE CONTENT 18+

A relaxing day spent together, as the two of you walked through the park, went on a date and cuddled back at home. Things had started perfect and quickly shifted in a shit show.

Neither of you were prepared for the sudden contractions you were feeling. The alarms ringing in your head— like your body knew but your mind didn’t want to accept it. You were having this baby.

The only issue was that the baby was several months early. If the sobbing coming from you, from the pain wasn’t enough— the idea that you were about to have a premature baby only added into the panic.

Bucky and you talked day and night to your baby— whispering sweet words. Making promises to a baby that wasn’t even born yet. It was all crumbling before your eyes as you were rushed to the hospital, the inside of your thighs drenched from when your water had broke.

Everything happened so fast— you were soon to be knocked out with heavy meds to help with the pain. While Bucky had to witness it all— all these nurses and doctors poke and prod at you, keeping you alive of course. But he couldn’t keep his fists from unclenching— every cry and whimper that escaped your lips made him want to strangle the nurse or doctor that had caused it.

He was a tad overprotective, but you were his everything. His world, his purpose. Seeing you in such pain destroyed him and he felt himself slowly spiraling. He had called several of his men to guard the entire corridor in the hospital, even while the hospital didn't really allow that kinda stuff— they learned quickly not to mess with Bucky. They didn't want to get involved with the whole mob world and just lowered their heads and agreed to what he wanted in the moment.

Many doctors, nurses, tests and meds later— you were finally in stable condition. Giving birth to a premature child had taken a toll on your body, physically and mentally.

You had given birth to a girl— Rebecca Barnes. Agreeing to name your baby after Bucky’s adoring sister, who you had grown close with over the years.

At last you had Bucky in the room the whole time— but you had noticed him getting uncharacteristically quiet. You knew he was most likely worried sick for you, but you couldn’t wait for the moment to tell him everything was going to be okay. You just hadn’t had a moment to talk with him yet.

You thought you’d have time to speak with him but because your child was so early— she was in critical condition. The doctors and nurses doing all they could to keep your baby alive and healthy.

A couple days pass by and the crowd of nurses and doctors have died down, allowing Bucky to finally sit beside your bed. Rebecca was getting checked by doctors and nurses in another room, there was nothing you two could do but cling onto each other as you waited for the news.

“I’ve missed sleeping next to you James.” You called out to him, reaching for his hand and holding it tight.

He hummed in response, his eyes continuing to scan over your face, body— looking for any other injuries.

“James— have you been sleeping?” You questioned after he didn’t respond to your previous one.

Looking over him now that he was close enough, you could see his sunken in eyes. The way his eyes were rimmed with redness— his skin pale compared to his beautiful tan glow that he had. He looked miserable.

He looked up at your eyes at that question, and for a second you thought he was glaring at you.

“Do you really expect me to get sleep when you’re stuck here in pain?” He responded in a hoarse, gravelly voice.

You softened at his sorrow tone, your heart aching that he was making himself suffer because you were.

“Sweetheart, you gotta take care of yourself. I know you don’t wanna leave my side but— I’m okay now,” You finally reassured him, “Everything is gonna be okay — the worst is done with.”

As he hoped your words would help calm him, it did little to soothe the panic that had been brewing in his chest ever since you cried out in pain at home. You were still stuck here— along with his baby. He couldn’t do anything but sit on the sidelines and wait until you got better— and that drove him fucking insane. He wanted to lick all your wounds, steal all your pain. The fact that he couldn’t do it in a snap of his fingers, was making him lose his shit.

“How is everything okay? You’re still sitting here— and you’re gonna be here for god knows how long!” He rushed out frustratedly.

You rubbing the back of his hand in attempt to calm him, knowing he needed to get his stress out— but he ripped it from your grasp. You couldn’t hide the hurt that flashed in your eyes from the action.

“James this happens when babies are born early— you know that. It’s not going to be easy, but I’ll be out of here soo—”

“Bullshit!” He hissed, not necessarily at you— but you could feel the air from his breath.

He hadn’t eaten, or drank very much. Hadn’t slept— overall hadn’t been taking care of himself. Adding all of the stress of your safety— was the golden reason for why he was acting out. Although you didn’t know that fully, and you were starting to feel like his anger was directed at you.

You were emotionally vulnerable right now, with everything that had gone on. You needed his support desperately, not a fight.

“James just take a breath for me okay? You’re okay— we’re okay.” You whispered, your hand itching to hold his. He was too far out of reach now, pacing the hospital room. “I really need you right now— I can’t have you passing out from exhaustion. I need you healthy!”

“Yeah well— I need you to be healthy too!” He argued, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “I can’t lose you!!”

Lastly he shouted, watching your eyes flicker from the loudness. He immediately relaxed seeing your hurt expression— he felt bad that he was stressing you out. He didn’t mean to— he just felt things were way too out of his control. He just wanted you to be okay, and back at home in his arms.

You opened your mouth to say something, watching his eyes shift into a faraway look. But before you could say anything, he turned and walked out the door— leaving you alone in the hospital room.

You tried to understand his perspective and desperately tried to— but you were already under so much stress, on your body and mind. The only thing you could do in the moment was cry.

Hugging yourself in attempt to comfort your self, you sobbed quietly. Wishing for Bucky to come back through the door. As the darkness faded into your thoughts, you couldn’t help but feel like this was your fault. Bucky was clearly upset with you— but why?

Was it because you weren’t healthy enough to hold a baby properly? Was it because your body just wasn’t equipped to carry a baby? It was your body— you should’ve been better. Should’ve done more to prevent this.

Your thoughts ran wild, abusing your fragile mind as you curled up in the hospital bed, weeping to no one. The nurse who had been caring for you the whole time came in with a concerned expression, trying to soothe your cries— as the heart monitor was going erratic with panic.

Meanwhile Bucky kept walking, ignoring the worried glances form his men. It was no secret that his men had grown close to you as well. They were all worried about you and the baby— hoping you two would walk out of the hospital soon all healed up.

Steve, his closest friend followed after Bucky— knowing he'd be able to get through his thick skin. Steve's attempts at making Bucky stop were useless, that was until they made it outside— and Bucky finally felt like he could breathe. That's when he turned to meet Steve's worried eyes boring into his.

"What's going man? Is (Y/n) okay?" Steve asked hesitantly.

He'd check on you himself— but it was direct orders from Bucky that they guard the corridor and nothing else. He had to respect that.

Bucky took another deep breath, letting the cool air fill his lungs— the breeze drying the layer of sweat that lightly coated his skin. The stress and anxiety building up— festering inside of him.

"Yeah... she's going to make a full recovery I think." Bucky breathed out, but his expression was still pained.

"That's great news— what's got you so worked up then?" Steve pried, and if it were anyone else— Bucky would be slapping them.

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to take another deep breath of the fresh air before his thoughts consumed him once again. Steve could see his pained expression deepen.

"She's fucking stuck here for months man— and I can't do shit about it! I feel like I should be doing more I— I just don't know what to do. I feel terrible that she's in pain— I just want her to be healthy with our babygirl and coming home!" He rushed out, started to pace the front entrance— running his hands through his hair.

Steve reached out to stop his pacing, holding his shoulder in a tight grip to snap him back to reality.

"Hey! Buck— you gotta take a breath and chill out— everything is gonna be okay. I know you're stressed out, I would be too— but you gotta try and calm down." Steve told him, holding his gaze with a stern one.

Bucky didn't mind the roles being switched up at the moment. He needed someone to shake him up— to get his shit together.

"I just love her so much." Bucky whispered, feeling his throat get tight with emotions.

Steve was shocked to see his pal so vulnerable, but it was understandable. He ignored the shock for now and tried to relax his friend.

"You need to tell her that, not me." Steve chuckled, and wasn't surprised at the glare he received from Bucky. "You're sorta right that there's not much you can do— but you can be there for her."

Bucky after a long pause nodded, knowing Steve was right— which was mind boggling to him.

"Yeah, you're right— you're right." Bucky mumbled, taking a few extra deep breaths before turning towards the door.

He stopped himself at the sliding doors and turned around suddenly and walked towards Steve without a word— pulling him into a tight hug. One that had Steve's mouth open in shock— hugs were not their thing.

"Thanks bud— I can't believe I have a babygirl." He whispered excitedly, pulling back with a teary smile and turned away— heading into the hospital.

Your tears had stopped minutes ago, and you stayed laying in bed— staring blankly out the window. Your mind wouldn't slow their attack— the darkness staining your brain. You wondered if someone could die from the abuse of their own mind— felt like you were.

Through muffled sound, you heard the door to your room open and close— followed by a voice. You were so out of it that it sounded like they were speaking from underwater.

It’s probably the nurse again… trying to get you to say something— anything. You thought mindlessly.

“(Y/n)… (Y/n)?” The mumbling continued and you really wanted to look over to see who it was, but found yourself comfortable in the dull state.

A gentle touch to your shoulder had you jumping, glancing slowly over to where the voice was coming from. To your surprise— it was Bucky.

“Hey baby, you okay? You feeling any pain?” He asked worriedly.

You stared at him like he had four eyes, your own darting around his face— almost like you didn’t actually believe he was here.

Bucky only grew more concerned the longer you didn’t respond, instead you stared at him with fear shining in your eyes.

“Baby— talk to me. What’s wrong? You’re scaring me.” He begged quietly, holding your hand in between both of his.

You looked down at your connected hands, your chest rising and falling with a big deep breath— almost like you could finally get a good breath in.

“You’re here.” You whispered, and if Bucky wasn’t as close as he was— he wouldn’t of heard it.

“I’m here baby, I’m not going anywhere— okay?” He asked, needing you to know he was here to stay. He finally got the shot in the arm he needed.

You shook your head, bottom lip quivering and that was the only warning Bucky needed to know you were about to cry. His heart ached at the sight of your now glossy eyes— peering into his with shame. That he didn’t understand.

“Fuck— I’m sorry James… this is all my fault.” You cried, holding onto his hand even tighter.

Bucky shook his head, rubbing the skin of your arm soothingly. Wishing so desperately that he could climb into bed with you— but he couldn’t. At least not for awhile.

He went to assure you, you had nothing to be sorry for but was interrupted by your cries.

“I can’t even do the one thing a woman is supposed to do right— I fucking failed you— us! I’m sorry James I— I should’ve been healt—”

Bucky had enough, he felt sick that you thought this was your fault.

“Baby no, don’t you dare think for one second that this is your fault. You didn’t ask for this honey— there was nothing you could’ve done to prevent this!” He told you sternly, sitting up closer to you now, cupping your face in his hands.

“But I—” You tried.

“No baby— I’m not gonna let you think this is your fault. You have done nothing wrong. Honey, you brought a babygirl into this world. You did it.” He pushed, pecking your forehead.

Your tears continued to fall but your cries has quieted down by now— Bucky’s words sinking in. You couldn’t help but want to smile at the mention of your babygirl. Rebecca— oh how you wanted her in your arms.

“I’m sorry I was angry before, but it wasn’t at you baby— I need you to know that.” He started, pushing stray hairs behind your ears. “I’m just frustrated that I can’t do anything for you right now. I just want you to be healthy and home with Becca.”

You softened your gaze upon his admission, reaching your hands up to cup his stubbled cheek. He immediately leaned into your touch, his eyes shutting on instinct.

“I love you so fucking much baby, and I just can’t stand knowing you’re in pain and that you’ll be stuck here for awhile.” He breathed out, his own emotions getting caught in his throat.

“James… you should’ve just started with that.” You whispered, stroking the skin on his cheek.

“I know, I know— I just get all in my head sometimes.” He admitted and you chuckled tiredly.

“Oh trust me, I know.” You joked, pulling him into the bed with you.

Bucky was careful, not sure if this was allowed and didn’t want to hurt you any further.

“(Y/n)… I don’t know if—”

“Just get in the fucking bed.” You spoke out monotonously.

He chuckled and shook his head, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Yes ma’am.”

You loved that you had this mean, initiating mob boss wrapped around your tiny little finger. But to be fair— he had you wrapped around his as well. He scooted in next to you, where you leaned back— laying your head on his chest. Hugging him around his waist, you could feel the heat of his breath fanning your forehead.

“I love you too James. Just don’t leave again, okay? I need you here with me.” You mumbled to him, feeling sleepy from all the stress of the day.

He squeezed just a little tighter, rubbing your arms comfortingly— before he spoke.

“I’m not going anywhere babydoll, I’m not going anywhere.”

#mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes x reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #protective bucky barnes #thank you for your request!#much love 💗#virtual hug

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pandorxxx · 9 months

Text

An unexpected Visitor: Chapter 1

Lo’ak x omatikayan fem reader

Warnings: forbidden love, trouble maker lo’ak (ofc), angry- Lo’ak (kinda), p in v, cursing, orgasms. (Lmk if I missed anything else)

Synopsis: You were promised to Neteyam. Him being next in line for olo’eyktan and you training to be the next tsahik, it only made sense. However, you had lo’ak on your mind. What happens when lo’ak gets tired of sneaking around, and asks you to be his mate? Will your father approve of this?

Chapter 2

🔞MDNI🔞

It was no secret…although you tried your hardest to keep it as such. You were among the elite kids in the clan, your father being jakes right hand man, and your mother being one of the best hunters here. So it was only fair that you had the prime pickings of the clans finest men.

Everyone thought it would be you and Neteyam. As you both were promised to eachother as young kids. You training to be a healer while Neteyam was up next for olo’eyktan, it only made the most since.

But if you were being completely honest, you didn’t like Neteyam all that much. And it was clear he wasn’t checking for you either. The truth was, he was too similar to you. You need someone to take you out of your comfort zone, not join you IN it. You two were friends, nothing more…nothing less. You both had discussed this many of times, yet either of you were bold enough to tell your parents of the decision you both made. So that situation went untouched.

Plus, it wouldn’t make sense for you to mate with Neteyam as if lo’ak wasn’t the one you were sneaking around with. Yes, it was true. You and lo’ak had a thing going on. It was always speculated around the clan, but never confirmed. You were just that good at hiding it.

Plus, you didn’t need your father hearing about this. He was really strict. Hell, it took him a few years to accept the fact that you were promised to Neteyam, and that you would be having a family of your own one day. So you just knew he would have a problem with lo’ak; the trouble maker of the clan mating with his only daughter? Over his dead body.

So the only way to see lo’ak romantically was to sneak around. Usually at night when your parents were sleeping, or on days like this one, when everyone was too busy doing their chores to care what was going on with the clans good girl and bad boy.

- - -

“Riiide that dick, fuuuuck.” Lo’ak chuckled breathily, receiving the utmost amount of pleasure as your little cunt squeezed his shaft. Your dainty hands were placed on his chest as you rode him like your life depended on it. Each bounce of your hips caused a loud smack that rang through the forest shamelessly.

And you couldn’t care less, not with his 14 inch cock buried deep inside of you. Shit, you couldn’t even think. All you knew was not to stop, or that undeniable pleasure would vanish.

“I-I’m gonna cum. I-I’mmmm gonna c-cum.” You whispered, heavy pants escaping your lungs as you bounced on his lap.

“Yeah?” He asked, siting up on his elbows just to watch your ass bounce. He snaked around, palming the plush skin with a loud grunt.

“Mm-hmm.” You nodded, faint whimpers escaping your lips as your walls began to contract around his length.

“O-Oh….ohhh fuuuck�� he spoke, mouth slightly agape as his head followed your movements. He couldn’t take his eyes away. He squeezed your ass alittle harder, his hips bucking slightly into yours. He was close too….

“Same time, baby. S-Same time.” He moaned, lip between his teeth as he admired his favorite part of you. You were a mess, so fucked out that your body was begging for a release. Yet, you knew better. And no matter what you were doing…you hated to say this…but your fathers wrath was always lingering in the back of your mind.

“Let me cum first. Y-You can’t cum inside of me.” You moaned, your voice rippling with the pace of his thrusts now. Eywa, how much he hated those words…every.fucking.time you said them.

He growled out of frustration, taking it out on your tight little cunt. With a strong hand gripping your middle, he knocked the wind out of you with every thrust.

“F-Fuck just once. I need to fill this pussy up. Please.” He begged, faced balled up in pleasure as languid whimpers escaped his mouth.

“I know, b-but don’t do it. Hold it until I’m done!” You cried, legs beginning to shake around his hips. You felt your core heat up, meaning that your orgasm was seconds away.

Lo’ak decided to close his eyes, maybe it would hault his orgasm until you were done. He couldn’t believe what you were asking of him; To let you bounce on his cock until YOU were satisfied, while he was just seconds away from his earth shattering orgasm as well. And lord forbid if he came inside you. How the fuck was he supposed to do this? “Hurry then, b-baby! I-I can’t take it!” He growled, eyes shut and jaw clenched.

“I-I’m- shiiit!” You screamed, walls fluttering around his cock as you let your juices flow down his shaft with every slow bounce. As you rode out your high, you began to mumble nonsense in his ear.

“T-This dick is sooo good. So so sooo s-so good.” You whispered, fangs grazing his lobe. It sent a chill down his spine, his ears perking in excitement.

“Ohh come on, d-don’t talk like that. You’ve gotta- nghh!- gotta get up.” He moaned, pushing on your stomach gently, his eyes back glued to your ass.

“I-I’m still cumming, lo’ak. Don’t stop me, pleaseee?” You whimpered, rolling your hips into his. His eyes crossed, mouth falling agape as pitiful whimpers escaped.

“Fuuck, no. I-I can’t y/n!” He strained, shaking his head in disagreement. He gently pushed you off of him before fisting his cock.

“Ohhhh shit! Oh shit, shit, shit!” He grunted, his seed spewing out of him like lava. Sooo much of it too.

After one final thrust to his hand, he let go, body going limp on the moss beneath him. He was panting, sweat pooling from his body.

“That was amazinggg.” You panted, crawling over to your loincloth. Lo’ak scoffed with the energy he could muster.

“Mhm. I’m glad you had fun.” He snarled, sitting up lazily to grab his loincloth. You shot your head at him. Here he goes again. With his little attitude.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” You asked, tying your cloth around your hips. Eyes brow cocked as you awaited an answer.

Lo’ak stood to his full height, making you visibly back down in the slightest. He took a deep breath, tying his loincloth around his hips as well.

“Do you love me or what? Be honest. Because this shit doesn’t feel like love.” He confessed, finally meeting your confused gaze. “Huh? What are you even saying? Because I won’t let you CUM inside of me, I don’t love you now?” You asked, crossing your arms.

“It’s bigger than that, and you know it. After this, we’re gonna go our separate ways until you need me again. It’s funny how you can’t make time for a REAL date, yet you FIND time for some dick.” He spat, eyeing you up and down in disgust. He was getting really sick of this game you liked to play.

“Oh please! Be realistic for 2 seconds. You know I love you. And you know why we CANNOT be together. I don’t know why you’re acting like we haven’t discussed this.” You rebuttal, turning on your heals to leave him where he’s standing.

“You love me, right? prove that shit.” He growled, making you stop in your tracks. You turned around and walked close to him. “I just proved it…5 minutes ago!” You strained. He growled in frustration again.

“God, NO! Everything isn’t about sex!” He shouted, grabbing you by your neck out of sheer aggravation.

“Then WHAT?” You shouted back. He clenched his jaw, nose flaring as his tail wagged high behind him. He loved you so much that he was willing to say this next thing…

“Let me meet your father, properly. So I can take you out on a fucking date for once. A REAL date.” He spoke with less aggression, letting your neck go gently. Your eyes visibly widened at his request. “Lo’ak…my father wouldn’t approve of this.” You whispered, but loud enough for him to hear.

“How do you know that? We haven’t even tried yet.” He asked, a genuine tone in his voice. You sighed, taking his hands in yours.

“Lo’ak, my father knows that I’m promised to Neteyam already. He wouldn’t approve of my choice being his younger brother. It makes me look bad….and-“ you were stopped abruptly.

“And what?” He asked curiously. Head titled slightly as he awaited an answer.

“My father is strict. VERY strict. And you have…a bit of a reputation around the clan. He thinks you’re a trouble maker…everyone does. Im sorry.” You whispered, your voice cracking from the tears that we’re getting ready to form.

He had a look of defeat, disappointment. Was his reputation that messed up…that if fucked up his chances to get the girl he’s always wanted?

“I can be good for you. I WILL be good…for you. I won’t cause any more trouble if it means that I get a fair shot at making you mine. If your father doesn’t like me after, then it’s fine, I get that but….I just wanna try. Please, y/n. Let me meet him.” He begged before placing a soft kiss on your knuckles.

How could you deny him? Especially when you’ve got the clans bad boy BEGGING to make you his? Begging to meet your father, just so he can be public with you? Promising to be GOOD…for you? You had no other choice but to say….

“Yes, yes I’ll let you meet my father. Come over for dinner tomorrow. No funny business please.” You nodded, a small smirk creeping on your lips as the possibility of being with lo’ak.

“OH SHIT! YES! This is great! I’ll be there.”

He shouted in excitement. You’d never seen him smile that wide before. You were just happy that he was happy.

“No cursing when you meet him. He’ll kick you out.” You warned, pointing your finger at him. He chuckled before nodding. “I won’t, I promise.”

“No talking back either, please? I know how you get-“ he interrupted you again. “I swear ON MY LIFE. I would never disrespect him.” He spoke in a serious tone.

You smiled, placing your hands on his chest. “Ok then. I’ll see you tomorrow night.” You spoke, standing on your tippy toes to plant a kiss on his soft lips.

You turned on your heels again. Going to walk away before you felt a hard smack on your ass. “Fuck! Are you crazy?” You shouted, rubbing the burning skin. He chuckled at you, eyeing your small frame up and down.

“Maybe. I love you, though.” He teased. You rolled your eyes. Turning to walk away from him.“I love you too, lo’aaaaaak.” You sung before disappearing into the tall trees

As excited as he was, lo’ak knew he had some hard work ahead of him….

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 1 year

Note

Could we have octoville reaction to octo merchild misbehaving like attempting to beat them up , trying to escape, thrashing in their arms , and even biting , and even cussing them out and giving the middle finger

Yandere Octorio x Octo Mer Child reader

Children get fussy that’s just a known fact. Even the cruelest and most coldhearted know that children are slaves to their unhinged emotions which can be kicked off by the absence of a nap, not being given their dinosaur nuggies, or not getting to play longer. But only the best guardians know how to handle these kinds of behavior at the very least eliminate the ones that cause it:

Azul Ashengrotto

More than anyone Azul has the greatest authority over you so he claims

You are the mini to his mega octopus status

So when he says your going back to your tank

Your going back to your tank

“Nooooo!”

“Let him go, (Y/n). It’s time to go!”

“Noooooo!”

He didn’t mind that you were getting cozy in Scarabia

It meant getting to keep an eye on Jamil

Kalim was perfect for keeping up with your energy

But Azul notices how your skin gets dry or how sluggish you are returning

You’re not just tired…you’re drying out

On a deeper level, Jade’s discovered that your hybrid status has you needing things a mini octopus needs

You have an extremely thin phlegm that keeps you from drying out

And drinking water is part of it

But with heat like Scarabia’s its best if you spend at least two hours in some actual water

Letting the water give you oxygen through your skin

But for whatever reason, you don’t want to do that

Annoyed with how much time is taken away with putting on and taking off the bathing suit

And the way Jamil demands you sit on the scratchy towels so you don’t make everywhere wet

“Nooooooo! Rgh! Noooo!”

With Kalim’s push, you’ll leave Scarabia

But when you return to Octavinelle Azul gives you some guidelines about going

And when you refuse he thinks aloud about not letting you go at all

he's mostly joking maybe not

And that sets you off

In the middle of the Monstro lounge your flailing, crying causing a huge scene

And like a struggling single mom that’s just trying to wrangle her kid, He’s straining as he pulls you into his office

Away from the invasive stares and curious looks of patrons

When he’s in there he pushes you in your mini tank clipping on the hole-filled top

Which doesn’t move at all despite your little tentacles pulling and banging on the glass

He’ll start working on contracts, counting bills, studying all while ignoring your little tantrum

He waits until it stops, sleeping in your little hidey-hole

Then He cries

Reduced to his baby octopus days he tries to remind himself that his baby just doesn’t want to listen

Not that you really hate him for stopping you from hanging out with someone more fun than him

All the parenting books couldn’t prepare him for this

But when you awake still willing to wrap your little tentacles around his fingers he gains confidence again

“(Y/n)...how about we make a little contract, okay? Just something promising me you’ll always come back, okay?”

“Mmmm okay.”

Jade Leech

“(Y/n) did you hear me? I said you can’t eat these. (Y/n)? Look at me, do you understand?”

You were being a little toad

Pouting and turning away after Jade didn’t let you eat one of the mushrooms he was dissecting

Some may say that previously working on edible mushrooms and giving one to you every other time may have conditioned you to expect it but whatever

You’ve squatted down low and plopped on the cold floor of his club room

Refusing to look at him with your little noises of refusal

He doesn’t mind being ignored…he knows you’ll forget anyway

But what he does have a problem with is when he turns away you’re reaching your tubby hand into his work station

He snatches your little hand using this closeness to grill it into you to listen

“(Y/n). Look at me.”

“Mmmm!”

“(Y/n).”

“Mmm!”

“Fine, then you're going to your tank.”

“Noooooo!”

“Yes.”

He’s dragging you or rather carrying you to your tank

And as he shut whoever’s door to put you away he hears something mumbled under your breath that sets him off

“-old fish. S-upid klunt!”

“...What did you just say?”

He turns his head like those dolls in horror movies

He gets that you were trying to say something else and he will hunt down who you got that from later but for now he’s bringing the hammer down

No one knows what happens when you're being particularly naughty

The best equivalent for what happens is that he commits to emotionally spanking you

a single look portrays that you're in for it

Talking you down until your begging for forgiveness while you nuzzle against his pant leg

He becomes that parent that you know to behave around

And its Azul who uses the most

“I’m going to tell Jade when he gets home!”

“No no! I sorry! No, please don’t tell!”

But in the end Jade is always willing to forgive you

Always willing to genuinely smile as you tearfully apologize before even being reprimanded

“Aww that’s my good octopus, I’m not angry no no no…I was just disappointed…but you did so well to apologize, good job.”

Floyd Leech

“Eh?! Octobaby hasn’t had their nap yet? Ohhh so that’s why you're so snippy!”

He’s down to play with you but he knows it’s a nightmare when your hungry or tired

He knows right now you need a nap

Even if he has to force you to take one

Now Jade says he can’t strangle you to sleep because you're just too fragile

So he just has to lock you in your tank, play your music, and make sure no one interrupts

That’s who he’s allowed to strangle

Even when you’re biting and thrashing in his hold

To be honest he hardly notices

Until your little pincers actually prick him some

“Did you just…bite me…?”

“...n-no..”

“Yes, you did.”

“I-i sorry. I sorry!”

His silence speaks loudest

He’s angry

It just won’t be at you

He’s oddly nurturing putting you to sleep

Then he’s raging at everyone who gets in his way

“Who. The. Heck. Made them miss their nap?!”

He’s not letting anyone hurt you let alone ruin your schedule

There is a schedule for how they take care of you

He actually is really vigilant about it

So he is livid when others come and mess with that

“Octobaby bit me today…”

“Oh did you reprimand them?”

“Nope did it themselves! Besides it was the cutest little prick, if they weren’t acting out I’d want them to do it again!”

#platonic yandere octorio #yandere octorio #yandere platonic #yandere platonic twisted wonderland #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere floyd leech #yandere jade #yandere tweels #yandere platonic tweels #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst x child reader #yanderes x child reader

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winniethewife · 8 months

Text

Kinktober day 8

Day Eight: Cockwarming (Tony Stark x reader)

Warnings: smut under the cut, nsfw, 18+, FemBodied, plot, P!inV!,punishment, begging, Unprotected sex

Minors DNI

Words: 650

“Tony…”

“Shhh…just let me, look at you.” Tony looked over you with pride and lust in his eyes.

“You can’t be serious, this is barely a dress.” She remarks as she tried to pull down the short skirt to no avail.

“Hm? Oh yeah definitely, Nobody will question your credentials in that.”

“I thought my years in undercover training was supposed to help us with that, but what do I know…” She Rolls her eyes

“Oh probably, but I like this method way more.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her and she sighed in frustration

“Whatever”

Hours later, Tony’s driving them back from the party where they were supposed to get the information from. “Supposed to’ is the key phrase. She’s pinching the bridge of her nose and muttering curses under her breath.

“It wasn’t that bad.” Tony mutters

“Oh, really? I would say it was pretty much a disaster Tony.” She says with venom in her voice.

“You kept flirting with that guy! I couldn’t focus.” He tried to defend himself

“I was distracting him, so you could get the information dimwit. You know, doing my job?” she looks at him pointedly.

“I’m sleeping on the couch aren’t I?”

“Oh no, I have a much worse punishment in mind.” And she did, as he would find out. As they lay bed, she sat on cock. Not moving. Just sitting there. It was absolute torture, and absolute heaven at the same time. It didn’t help that He had stripped down entirely naked and she was still wearing that dress.

“Come on sweetie. Let’s just forget about this… Baby please.” He pleads with her as her wet pussy contracts around him, he couldn’t honestly tell which muscle movements were intentional and which were purely coincidental.

“Oh no you’re not getting out of this easily. You totally screwed our mission and Fury will chew me out tomorrow like I’m a piece of his favorite gum. And it’s not even my fault this went poorly. It’s yours. So suck up and deal.” She smirks slightly at his pouty face and puppy dog eyes. She’s not gonna fall for it. She clenches around him, refusing to move, warming his cock. He let out an uncharacteristic whine as she does this.

“That’s stupid…I mean maybe I deserve it…but I still hate it.” Tony grumbles like a toddler who was just told he could only have one piece of candy. She lifted her her hips and slammed down on him once, causing him to groan.

“Enough back talk or I can find a better way to spend my time.” She uses a tone of voice that makes it very clear to tony that she isn’t kidding.

“Yes ma’am.” He says with a smirk, which quickly disappears from his face as he feels his cock twitch inside her. Every involuntary movement made this whole situation that much better, and that much worse. He would have thought that he would have gone soft by now but every time he thinks hes going to she does something that sends the flag back up the pole. A slight shift of her hips, a single thrust, clenching down on him, she knew exactly how to play him, like an instrument she had taken years to master. It was like this for nearly half an hour when she started to rock her hips back and forth. Her own will to continue like this waning. That’s when Tony knew he had a chance.

“Come on sweetie, let me make it up to you…” He leans forward and takes her hips in his hands lifting her slightly off his cock, then back down. Both of them already on the edge of over stimulation. A moan escapes her lips as he does this. She may be a stubborn woman, but she was still a woman with needs.

“Alright. But you’re not really off the hook…yet…”

Kinktober masterlist

#tony stark #the avengers #marvel #marvel smut #tony stark x reader #iron man #x reader #fawktober2023 #kinktober #cockwarm #mcu

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msbigredmachine · 1 year

Text

On Sight - Part 1 (Jey Uso/OC)

The fact that we hate each other don’t mean we can’t fuck. Just don’t fall in love with me. Jey Uso/OC 4-part series.

Warnings: The usual smut, angry sex, toxic behavior, angst

Word count: 4.9k

A/N: A fellow reader/writer suggested an "enemies to lovers" trope. Well, here is part 1! Let me know what you think.

ON SIGHT MASTERLIST

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

PART 1 - HATE?

His big, callused hands clutched your hips and yanked your ass closer to him. He sank himself back into you, uttering a low moan. You spread your legs wider for him, feeling his pelvis nudge against your backside. He squeezed your ass, giving the juicy skin a hard slap before rapidly thrusting into you.

With your face pressed to the mattress, you bit into the bedsheet to contain your moans. Your toes curled, tensing yet again from his forceful movements. You felt him shudder inside you and you arched your back some more, wanting him deeper.

"You're fuckin’ impossible," Jey growled, smacking your ass again.

"Ion wanna hear it, just fuck me." Your voice was supposed to come out angry and impatient, but instead it was high-pitched and pleading.

He leaned down to kiss on your neck, the feel of his gold chain on your skin causing your nipples to strain against the soft sheets beneath you. You clung to them as he yanked your ass up higher and drove deeper into you, making you take all his dick. He smacked your backside again, and a muffled squeal of pleasure escaped you as your pussy squeezed his dick. Immensely turned on, you reached between your legs and touched yourself, your fingers brushing over his thrusting cock, increasing stimulation. His roughness and dominance was exhilarating. He was excellent at controlling your body, amplifying your pleasure to the max. You would never admit it to him, though, cuz you would never hear the end of it.

Without warning, he shoved your hand away from your pussy. In retaliation, you reached back and hit him in the torso, hard, your fist bouncing off the ridges of his abs. He spanked your ass repeatedly as punishment, at least ten times, grinning when you cried out from the stinging pain. He ran his palm over the curve of your ass, his thumb teasing your asshole with your juices before pushing inside with relative ease. Your muscles contracted and twitched around him, heightening both your pleasure.

"Damn you, motherfucker, fuuuck," you groaned, rolling your hips in time with his, rocking up and down his dick and his thumb simultaneously.

Jey exhaled a breathy moan. "You know how good I make you feel," his thumb curled inside your tight asshole, causing you to clench around him yet again, "Yet you keep callin’ me out my name."

"Don’t flatter yourself. You ain’t all that,” you lied, “That dick is better when I fantasize about it.” Pushing up on your elbows, your upper body twisted to face him, and you almost took your words back. He looked so sexy; his naked body was slick with sweat, his beard gleamed with your essence, having buried his face in it minutes ago. The look of pure pleasure on his features had you itching to touch yourself again.

Jey’s smirk was sinfully ice-melting. “Still talkin’ shit, huh?”

"Damn right," you said through gritted teeth, "That’s what you get for being so fuckin’ arrogant, it makes me so-"

Your words evaporated when all of a sudden, he pushed himself all the way inside you and held himself there. As he did, a lewd, loud squelch echoed around the bedroom. The sound came from your pussy.

"Wet?" he finished smugly.

He did that shit on purpose, but damn it, he was right. You were literally dripping down your legs and you were only going to get wetter. You would have been annoyed if it didn’t feel as amazing as it did.

"You’re so fuckin pretty, princess. If only your words weren't so ugly."

He resumed thrusting, fucking you harder. Clearly determined to drive you insane, and it was working. His groans blended with yours as the speed of his thrusts increased, and you knew he was just as close to climax as you were.

“You think you so much better than me, huh,” he snarled. He removed his thumb from your anus and squeezed your ass cheek in his rough palm. "Yet here you are, soaking wet for me, moaning my name, about to come all over my dick.”

He throbbed inside you as he spoke, and, as predicted, it made you wetter. Every limb and muscle you owned thrummed with pleasure. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling hard enough to force a deeper arch to your back. His heavy balls slapped your clit repeatedly, drove you mad with need, the need to release.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you voiced out breathlessly, fingers digging into the blankets in front of you. His strokes were god-tier, hitting all the right spots. The man was in your stomach and you were seeing stars. "Mmmm, right there, right fucking there…”

"Shit feel good, don’t it?” Jey bragged, “You love this dick, that’s why you keep runnin’ yo mouth, you want me all up in them guts just like this."

"Fuck you," you repeated, tears springing to your eyes when he started to ease up out of nowhere. "Damn it, go faster, I’m so fuckin’ close," you whined.

"Shut the fuck up. You come when I say you come," he snapped. His thrusts slowed, and he swiveled his narrow hips, dragging his dick along your inner walls. Taking matters into your hands, you bounced yourself on his dick, fucking him right back. Grunting in frustration at your stubbornness, he grabbed your waist and tried to hold you down, but you would not be denied your nut, or his.

“Damn, girl, damn,” he gasped. It sounded like gunshots going off from how hard you were throwing it back, bouncing your thick ass noisily and forcefully on his dick like you had a point to prove. His grip on your waist slackened, his grunts softened into higher-pitched, intimate moans as his body gave in to numbing pleasure.

"Don't you dare come before me," you warned, capitalizing on his moment of weakness by grinding your ass on him, creating more of a thrust with your combined movements. Jey held you down against the bed with his big body, smothering you in the best way. His fingers found your pussy folds, applying firm and rapid pressure as he drilled you into the mattress. His touch kindled your blazing fire, the dam within you waiting to burst and release all the tension inside.

“You close, baby?” Jey asked you. When you didn’t reply right away, he brought his hand down hard on your butt. “I asked you a question. Answer me!”

“Mmm, nghhh, yes, baby, I’m about to come. Fuck!”

“Ya damn right. You gon’ come for me like the slut you are." He rubbed your pussy faster and kept pounding into you, hearing you whimper as you both neared the precipice.

You couldn’t stop the chorus of curses pouring from your lips as the wave of indescribable ecstasy rose, peaked, and then plummeted. You came hard on his dick, your body melting and trembling all at once. His already sloppy thrusts now sounded wetter than ever as your cum dripped between you, adding more friction to his deadly strokes.

"Aww, fuck..." he moaned, suddenly pulling out of you and jerking his dick in his fist. His entire body stiffened, and with a strangled groan he exploded all over your backside. A tired purr escaped your lips as you felt his warm seed spill onto your skin. Your pussy clenched from the added sensation as you struggled to recover from the intense orgasm.

"Shiiit," Jey drawled as he rested his drained dick between your ass cheeks, thrusting briefly to ensure he was all done. He gave your ass one last squeeze and dropped back down to the bed with a sigh of satisfaction. His body was warm next to you, and you fought the urge to move in for a cuddle. You never cuddled or kissed afterwards. Not when you hated his guts and he hated yours. You both lay side by side, breathing hard, basking in the aftermath of yet another bad decision.

He climbed out of the bed to retrieve his clothes. You fished out a blunt from your side drawer and lit one up, the first puff soothing your lungs. As you watched him get dressed, you found yourself regretting your impulsive decision to fuck him. You then wondered why you even bothered with regrets - you and Jey fucked practically every day.

Buttoning up his denim shirt, Jey glanced your way and then crooked his index finger at you. Rolling your eyes, you begrudgingly tucked your blunt between his waiting lips, watching him take a long drag and shorten your ration. Greedy fucker.

“Same time tomorrow?” he asked, standing up from the bed.

You let out a derisive snort, blowing out a ring of smoke. “No. Fuck off.”

A knowing smirk crossed his lips as he headed for the door. That was always your answer, but you both knew better. “Tomorrow it is. I’ll see you then, baby.”

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

God, you hated him.

You despised him with every fiber of your being. He was the bane of your existence. You hated his chiseled face. You hated his cute ass dimples. You hated the way he wrestled in the ring. You hated his breathtaking smile. You hated his high-pitched, funny laugh. You hated that everyone thought he was so cool. Basically, you hated everything about Jey Uso. Each time you laid eyes on him, your blood always boiled from just how much you despised his sorry ass.

Like now. As you glared at the back of his head while he went over the upcoming backstage segment with the director. He was wearing that crop top again, showing off his lean body and the new tattoo on his rib cage. The art was loud and garish, yet all you wanted to do was run your tongue over that same expanse of skin and make him moan for you.

Yeah, these mixed feelings were not helping at all.

You jumped when the director called your name, informing you that filming was about to begin. You caught a glimpse of Jey’s smirk as he entered the Bloodline’s locker room, knowing damn well he was the reason for your distraction. Fighting the urge to throttle him, you focused on the director’s countdown which was seconds away.

“And…go!”

“We are here in front of the Bloodline’s locker room, just moments after Roman Reigns suffered a beatdown at the hands of Cody Rhodes, Sami Zayn and Kevin Owens earlier tonight. He’s refused to be treated in the trainer’s room, choosing instead to remain in his locker room where the doctors are attending to him.” You tried to look concerned, immersing yourself into your role as backstage interviewer. “I’m hoping I can catch one of the members of the Bloodline for an update on the Tribal Chief’s condition.”

On cue, Jey emerged from the locker room, shoulders squared, trademark sneer on his face showing off his grill. Your mouth watered against your will.

“Oh, joining us right now is one half of the undisputed Tag Team champions, Jey Uso. Jey, what can you tell us about Roman’s current condition? And can we get a comment on Sami’s remarks about putting an end to the Bloodline once and for all at Wrestlemania?”

Shit, he smelled so good. You were barely listening to his promo, mesmerized by his soft lips and the way they moved as he spoke. But professionalism came first, and so you motored on, finishing the segment without a hitch.

“And cut! Great job, guys!”

Flustered, you quickly backed away, keeping your distance as the crew dispersed. After a quick parting chat with the director, you then pulled out your phone as you started to leave the area. You had barely taken two steps when Jey appeared in front of you, blocking your path.

“What the fuck was that?”

You made a show of rolling your eyes. “What the fuck was what, Uso?”

“That last part. That wasn’t how your lines were in the script. You was tryna trip me up!” he accused, glaring down at you.

“How? I couldn’t remember a part of it so yeah, I improvised. If you still don’t understand the concept after fourteen years in the business then that’s your problem, not mine.”

“No, my problem is you making me look bad with your bullshit. Stop playin’ with me, woman!” he shouted, pointing all five fingers in your face in that annoying way he did when he was arguing.

The nerve of this motherfucker. “News flash, uce, I don’t need to make you look bad. You do that all by yourself, with ya bra top-wearing, mullet-havin’ ass! This ain’t the eighties, homie.”

Letting out a scoff, he moved just a little closer to you, looking you up and down. “You ain’t have a problem with my mullet when I’m eatin' that pussy, though,” he leered.

Your mouth dropped open in shock. You looked around hastily, hoping no one had caught that. Luckily it seemed to be only the two of you in the vicinity. “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?” you retorted.

“Takes one to know one, bitch,” he snarled, looming over you, eyes wide and dark and menacing. “Look at you. Walkin’ round here like you own the damn company. You don’t own shit, princess. You’re a wannabe Renee Young, a dime a dozen and you can be replaced like that.” He snapped his fingers for emphasis.

You raised your eyebrows with a smirk. “Ooh, so much anger. Did Roman bitch you out again, huh? That why you so mad? Maybe you’re looking for someone to take out your anger issues on. So go ahead, Jey. Hit me.” You stepped right up to him, getting in his face. “Ain’t that what you want? To punch me in the face? To wrap your hands around my throat and choke me?”

For once in his life, he was speechless. He was stunned by your audacity and you reveled in it. Your smirk darkened. “Then do it. Do it out here where everyone can see you. I know you want to.”

The Tag champ leaned even closer, and for one terrifying second, you thought that he was going to do it. You could see the wheels turning in his head and braced yourself for another verbal assault, or worse.

What happened next, however, came out of left field. He snatched your phone right out of your hands and darted into his locker room, slamming the door shut. For a long moment, you stood there out in the hallway, dumbfounded. And then, the rage took over, sweeping through your body, and you threw the door open, almost breaking off the handle as you charged inside. The room was empty, meaning you could throw hands with zero innocent casualties.

“Gimme back my phone,” you demanded, holding your hand out.

Jey held up the device, dangling it temptingly above him as he backed away. “It’s right here, come get it,” he taunted, yanking it out of reach right as you made a grab for it. “Come on girl, you can do better than that.”

“Jey, give me my goddamn phone!” You lunged again, and he twisted away from you and tossed it blindly over his shoulder. Your heart was almost in your mouth as you watched it barely miss the glass coffee table and land safely on the couch. You glared at him incredulously, your hands clenched into fists. “You are the most childish, immature person I have ever met! You’re infuriating!” you yelled.

“Careful princess, that’s a mighty big word for you,” Jey mocked. The glee in his eyes was almost disturbing.

“You fucking asshole!” You took a swing at him, but he caught your wrist before the blow could connect. In the same move, he shoved you roughly, an audible ‘oof’ expelling from your lungs as your back collided with the wall. Before you could strike again, he seized both your hands and pinned them together above your head with his much larger hand. You struggled against him, your feet and knees a blur, trying to get a shot in. You were no match for his strength, but that would never stop you from trying.

"Let go of me you dickhead...let me go!" You accentuated your demand with a strong tug on your immobilized hands. Your chest heaved angrily as you looked into his eyes. What stared back at you was a mix of fury and lust and need that you had never seen before. The sexual tension crackled in the air between you like electricity.

Uttering a soft growl, Jey dipped his head and kissed you. Hard. His mouth working yours as though he owned it. You bit down on his lip equally hard, drawing blood. Jey jerked back in pain and touched his mouth. If looks could kill, you would both be dead.

“Do that again and you'll regret it,” he snarled.

“Try me, bitch,” you spat, your words cut off by his lips crashing back onto yours. Your teeth scraped briefly right before his tongue slid inside your mouth for an earth-shattering, toe-curling kiss. His large hand seized you by the throat, keeping you pinned to the wall. You moaned into his mouth, mad at him and at yourself for how aroused you were by his aggressiveness. That, along with his tongue darting in and out of your mouth and his groin grinding against your center, made your pussy throb. You arched again with another moan, still pulling on your hands, this time wanting to touch him instead of pushing him away.

"You just love testin' me, don't you," he spat, finally releasing your hands to reach under your short dress. He located the edge of your black thong, and with a swift brutal movement, tore the skimpy lace off your body. He grabbed your thighs and lifted you up effortlessly, slipping his body between your legs. He fumbled briefly with his sweatpants, and you couldn't keep a moan from escaping your lips as he entered you, hard. Speechless, eyes dilated, you were certain you were about to combust already. Each press of his hips slammed you spine-first into the wall, but you absorbed it all, processing the pain to pleasure.

“I fucking hate you,” you murmured.

“You hate me, but you love how good I fuck you,” he countered, bending his knees and powering deep into your warm depths, “You hate me, but you in my bed every other night, givin’ me this pussy. So why you lyin', huh?”

His glazed eyes remained on your features as he pumped into you with long, exquisite strokes. A shiver passed through him as your tight little cunt squeezed and moistened around his pumping cock, demanding more of the sinful pleasure he gave you. You threw your head back with a whimpering cry as he started to fuck you harder, the wet smack of your bodies echoing around the spacious locker room. Your arms and legs tensed around him, holding on tight as he punished your pussy without mercy. It was the same salacious cycle. Below-the-belt verbal attacks, prodding and provoking each other until you were fucking each other’s brains out. A unique version of foreplay that never failed to get you or him off.

Pushing off the wall, Jey carried you further into the locker room, still inside you. As he walked, you squirmed out of his arms and pushed him onto the nearby couch, straddling his lap before he could regain his bearings.

"Aht aht, don't fuckin' move," you commanded, grabbing his dick and sliding it back inside you in record time. You both moaned as your walls stretched around his impressive girth. You bounced on it, gasping loudly as you picked up speed. Jey tugged the front of your dress down to cup your exposed breasts, fondling them, pinching your nipples hard. Your pussy rippled in response and you started to grind on him, working your clit against the base of his cock and stimulating you to no end.

Jey’s hands found your hips, watching your slick flesh slide over his own in an enticing rhythm. Teasing your right nipple with his tongue, he sucked it into his mouth and reveled in your high pitched moan. “Fuckin’ good pussy,” he breathed, “Fuck me, baby. Ride my dick just like that.”

Too turned on to reply, you settled for kissing him passionately, your fingernails raking his heaving chest. He moaned against your lips, his large hands patrolling your back and your ass. Tucking your face into his neck, you gripped the armrest for leverage and rode him harder, your ass slapping loudly against his lap as you dropped your pussy aggressively on his hard length.

“Oh my god,” Jey groaned, feeling his orgasm creep closer. Your mouth wreaked havoc on his neck, your inner muscles clenched around him with each downward motion you made, causing him to grunt and jerk his hips up into you. His hand then scraped downwards to your ass, holding you in place as he started to thrust up into you from his seated position, taking back control. Your moans and his grunts got louder, the heat ratcheted up, ever closer to what was sure to be a mind-blowing climax.

“You comin’ for me, baby?” he hissed, slapping your ass and tugging your hair, forcing you to meet his eyes. “I can feel you, tell Daddy that you’re comin’.”

“Fuck! I'm comin', I'm comin'!” you whimpered, your eyes in the back of your head. You tried to move again, wanting to regain the upper hand, but his grip was too strong, holding you hostage as he thrust deeper, right up against your g-spot. "Fuck, Jey!"

"C'mon," he rasped, teetering on the brink.

The orgasm that tore through you left you gasping for air, riddling your body with tremors. Your pussy squeezed his dick so hard that it triggered his own release. His other hand shot down, gripping your ass cheek as he emptied his load with a breathless groan.

Weak and boneless, you collapsed on his chest with a deep sigh. Jey enveloped your prone frame in a hug and you both stayed silent for a few minutes, waiting for your hearts to stop pounding. When your breathing was back to normal, he guided your face to his and kissed you, his lips sweeping gently over yours. This took you by surprise. You never kissed after sex. But you embraced it, embraced the surprisingly tender gesture that made your bones melt. You gasped softly, your heart raced as he tugged your bottom lip between his teeth and then sucked it back into his mouth, his lips caressing yours in teasing strokes.

"I still hate you," you said, your voice soft and small despite the harsh declaration.

Jey chuckled, nuzzling the curve of your neck and dropping a soft kiss there. “I know. I hate you too,” he murmured, sliding his lips northwards until they met yours again.

“I fucking knew it.”

The new voice spun you around, the horror visible on your features. Roman Reigns stood across the room, wearing the biggest grin you’ve ever seen. You’ve never moved so fast in your life, scrambling off of Jey and hurrying to fix your dress.

“You didn’t lock the damn door?” you hissed at him.

“What? You came in after me!” he squeaked, pulling his pants back up.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! I’m so sick of your shit!” Snatching your phone off the couch, you scampered out of the locker room, not daring to make eye contact with Roman as you passed him. How fucking embarrassing, getting caught in 4k like this. You knew you should have been more careful, but it was much easier to put the blame on that ass Jey Uso. He couldn't do anything right, anyway!

Annoying ass punk. Dude was lucky he could fuck.

———-------

All alone in the bowels of his cousin's tour bus, Jey watched you chop it up with Kayla Braxton and special guest Cody Rhodes on the latest livestream of The Bump on YouTube. Your work on the show and on other WWE platforms, aided by your magnetic personality and penchant for randomly wearing the merch of your favorite Superstars and legends, earned you millions of admirers from around the world and backstage. It was probably why you thought you were the shit, with your fancy ass Masters Degree and Ivy League training. If only your beloved fans knew what a bitch you really were.

Several months on, he still couldn’t figure out what it was about you that made him so irritated, yet so attracted to you at the same time. When you first met, you were rude to him over a misunderstanding and had an attitude ever since. That encounter ignited a fierce rivalry that scorched earth in the workplace and eventually...shockingly...in the bedroom.

He remembered it like it was yesterday, the first time you kissed him. Or he kissed you. He still wasn’t sure who made the first move, but his life has not been the same since then. Now, everything was a competition between you, behind the scenes and between the sheets; every kiss, every time you tumbled into bed together, his desire matching yours step by step, daring each other to keep up with the other. Sex with you entailed getting pushed beyond his limits, with you doing things you knew would piss him off such as scratching the hell out of him, biting, and/or fighting him. You had a potty mouth and a mean streak a mile wide, and honestly, that shit turned him on. Yes, some of your verbal jabs cut deep, but he realized, quite morbidly, he would gladly endure them if it guaranteed he would be left weak-limbed, drained and satisfied when you were through with him. And he was. All the time. He hated how much he craved you, and to know that the feeling was mutual made his days that much more exciting.

“So, how long have y’all been fucking?”

Roman came into his view, a trademark smirk on his face as he leaned against the doorframe. Twenty-four hours had passed since the Tribal Chief’s…discovery…in his locker room, and he hadn't said a word about it. Until now. Exhaling heavily, Jey grabbed his beer for a long gulp, deciding there was no point in lying. “About six, seven months,” he disclosed.

“Deadass?”

“Uh huh.” He hadn’t taken his eyes off the TV. He noticed how close Cody sat next to you, noted the way you entertained his little flirty gestures. It was public knowledge that Rhodes was down for the swirl. For all he cared, you were probably fucking him too, and for some reason that irked his soul.

Roman joined his cousin in the lounge area. “I always knew you'd either end up killing each other or fucking each other. It makes so much sense now. The tension between y’all was giving sexual vibes more than anything.” The Undisputed Champ smiled and shook his head. "So when you gon’ tell her you have feelings for her?"

Jey nearly choked on his beer. "The fuck?! What feelings? We hate each other! We always have!"

Bullshit. He had seen the way Jey looked at you yesterday and it definitely was not with hatred. He wondered how he had ever missed it. “Right. Humor me then. Why do you hate her? Do you even know?”

“Easy. She’s a bitch.”

“That’s Jey-speak for she’s pretty as fuck,” Roman dismissed.

Jey’s lip curled with disgust. “She’s obnoxious!”

“A.K.A. I like how she don’t take shit from nobody, especially my sorry ass.”

“She thinks she’s so much better than everybody else,” Jey argued.

“That’s Jey-speak for she's too classy for my country, ghetto ass.” Roman chuckled heartily. His boy was down bad. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d have been shocked. Remember Kendra Jones from high school?” When Jey averted his eyes, he pushed on, determined to make his point. “Yeah, I remember. Your punk ass teased her for months and it turned out you were crushing on her the whole time. This is exactly how you were, all flustered like this. You a grown ass man now, Jey. Quit playin' games and tell that girl you’re in love with her.”

Oh, hell fucking no. “I am not in love, stop puttin' shit in my head!”

Roman shook his head. “For real though, you two are weird. You ‘hate’ each other yet you’re sleeping together. That’s some toxic shit.”

"Ay yo, mind your damn business Uce. I won’t tell you again," Jey spat, getting agitated.

"It became my business when y'all fucked in my locker room!"

"Look, I’m sorry about that, a'ight? It was in the heat of the moment."

“I’m sure it was,” the Tribal Chief smirked.

“Whatever, dude.” No longer in a talking mood, he stood up and headed for the sleeping area.

“By the way, you should do somethin' 'bout that hickey on your neck!” Roman called out.

Ignoring him, Jey shut the door and climbed into his bed, weary and conflicted. His thoughts kept returning to you, and he hated it. His cousin was dead wrong. Everything he said about you was true.

So why couldn't he stop thinking about you? Why did he always dream about you whenever he fell asleep?

Forcing his eyes shut, he tried to block you out of his mind as he drifted into a fitful sleep.

At the same moment, as you lay in your own bed, you were staring up at the ceiling, imagining what Jey might be doing, and wondering why the fuck you cared.

Because you’ve caught feelings, girl…

Panic set in, and you shook your head adamantly. "No, no I’ve not. He don’t even like me,” you said aloud to yourself, in the emptiness of your hotel room. “This has to stop. I have to stop sleeping with him. It’s not healthy for either of us."

Yet, all you can think about is his eyes…and his mouth…and the way it feels when he touches you…

You sighed and tried to go to sleep, hoping your dreams would not be invaded yet again by the one man in the world you detested the most.

In your dream, you and Jey were a big happy family, living in a big beautiful house in a lovely suburban neighborhood. Your baby daughter sat on his lap as the three of you enjoyed dinner together.

END OF PART 1

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

Surprise!

Please leave comments. I love comments!

Banner made by me. Credit to owners of the pics and gifs.

#jey uso #jey uso fanfiction #jey uso fanfic #jey uso imagine #the bloodline #jey uso smut #the usos #the usos fanfic #wwe smut #wwe #jey uso x reader #jey uso x black reader #on sight by msbigredmachine #jey uso imagines

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starsandhughes · 1 year

Note

Penalty box blurb!! Cole meeting reader and Quinn having to explain the adoption comment?

“Well if it isn’t Cole McWard!” you said grinning as you walked down the hallway of the Canucks practice arena. You were visiting Quinn in Vancouver before the end of the season to meet the newest rookie, as well as see some of your favorite people. It was Cole’s second game tonight, and you were here to watch it. Plus, you hadn’t seen Akita play, either.

“Hi!” Cole smiled, “Y/N right?”

“The one and only!” You held your arms wide open, and luckily Cole was also a hugger and took you into his arms with no problem.

“I told you she’s humble,” Quinn said sarcastically.

“Alright, what horrible things have you heard?” you asked the rook, ignoring your best friend.

Quinn swatted you on the arm at the joking accusation, “I don’t talk bad about you!”

Cole was smiling at the two of you, clearly entertained, “Everything I’ve heard is good, don’t worry.”

After catching up with everybody and going out with Petey and Quinn for a late lunch, it was time for you to get ready back at their apartment, and them to head off to the arena.

You took an uber to the arena, mainly because you didn’t want to drive Quinn’s car he left for you, all dressed and ready in your Quinn jersey.

The game was amazing. Quinn got a penalty, Cole scored not only his first NHL goal, but the opening goal of the game! Kuzy won the game in a shootout, and Quinn’s speech at the end nearly brought you to tears. He’s grown so much and you couldn’t be more proud.

That statement was wiped away the second you saw Cole in the halls outside the locker room after the game. He was so happy, and his smile grew wider when he saw you.

“Y/N!”

You held your arms open and laughed as he scurried over to hug you, “That goal was beautiful, love! You’re officially adopted!”

Cole’s head tilted at this. You mentioned “adoption” in your instagram, but it had slipped Quinn’s mind to explain it.

“Sissy, you can’t just announce to someone you just met that you’re adopting them. He doesn’t even know Jamie,” Quinn sighed as he walked up and hugged you from behind. You rotated your body in his arms to hug him back before escaping and getting behind him. Without skipping a beat, he bent down for you to hop onto his back for a piggy back ride.

“See, I was thinking we’d actually split custody of him,” you said.

Cole’s confusion deepened, “Uh… Quinn?”

“It started with my youngest brother, Luke, accidentally calling her mom when he was in middle school during the one month her and my middle brother, Jack, were dating. They ran with it, and have been joking ever since that she’s his mom and Jack is his dad.

“Then, when Luke hit college two years ago, and Y/N met his teammate Ethan, she told Jack that they were adopting him, too. Why she picked Ethan I don’t know, he’s had many other teammates over the years.”

“Why did you pick Ethan then?” Cole asked. You shrugged, “I don’t know; he just screamed my child.”

“I scream your child?” Cole asked, slightly laughing.

“It’s a high honor,” you nodded. “Go, Quintin.”

“Skip to last year when her and Jamie Drysdale got closer. Her and Jack divorced is what they call it, and her and Jamie got married. The weirdoes have silicone rings and everything.” You held up your ring finger and grinned at this. “They decided to adopt Trevor Zegras, who, by the way, is her boyfriend of five years, just to add to the crazy that is my life. Z hates it, but we all think he kind of enjoys the gag.”

“Is that it?” Cole asked.

“I don’t know, maybe?” Quinn breathed out a laugh.

“Seamus Casey is up for discussion, but he’s not officially a Devil yet.”

“Right, of course. And Luke says something about an application?”

“That’s mostly a joke, but there is a contract.”

“Z signed a contract?”

“He was held at scissor point.”

“You threatened your boyfriend with scissors?” Cole asked.

“That’s not what I said,” you stated.

Quinn laughed at that. Quinn made sure he mentioned everything about your “adoptions” and Cole ended up finding it very amusing.

“Sooooo,” you grinned at him. “What do you say? Care to have the highest honor of being mine and Quinn’s first child?”

Cole asked about Jamie, and Quinn raised that question after Cole asked it, to which you explained that this would be a split custody adoption so you weren’t cheating on Jamie. Cole faked relief, “Well… as long as you’re not cheating on my… step dad?”

“Don’t get her started on that,” Quinn interjected. Cole laughed and held his hands up, “Alright! Sorry, sorry. I’d be happy to be your and Hughesy’s son!”

#penalty box series #penalty box series: quinn hughes edition #penalty box series: blurbs #quinn hughes #cole mcward #vancover canucks #trevor zegras #jamie drysdale #jack hughes #luke hughes

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eddies-house · 1 year

Text

Tender

Eddie x fem reader

3.4K Words

Eddie loves on you while you're on your period and even finds that maybe you need a little something extra.

Warnings - SMUT, just a little rubbing action but still. Also super fluffy and sweet. Mentions of period and pain, mentions of blood. I think that's it.

A/N - We're down real bad y'all. I needed this the other night so bad, smut was not even planned it just happened.

Masterlist

The muscle cramping pain of your contracting uterus was enough to keep you half awake in the darkness of the room, whimpers of pain and small cries apparent among the silence. Your heating pad was long forgotten on the floor since there was no relief offered when it had been in use earlier. The bottle of painkillers sat abandoned on the nightstand after you’d popped a few hours ago with no aid in dulling the pain. Nothing was working and you were a pathetic mess, sweating through the sheets and whining to no one in particular, just fully marinating in the discomfort. Yet again your body was in a fit of rage and bloodshed as you laid there wounded from the war it waged on you.

Shooting pains traveled from what felt like your abdomen all the way down your legs, if you were to stand you would be as decent at walking as a newborn calf. The ache throughout your body held you hostage from sleep, the best you could do was lay there half awake and take each blow to your uterus with teary eyes and a wobbling lip. Frustration plagued your mind, it was the middle of the night and there was nothing you could do but accept the abuse from your own body.

Curling in on yourself, another whine escapes into the moonlit room and with it, a stir of a body next to you. Eddie mumbles a few incoherent words as he comes into consciousness, rolling over to face you while wiping his eyes of sleep. With very little lighting, you can still make out his features ever so slightly. His huge eyes, plush lips, and wild hair sticking every which way, bangs standing straight up as they had been crushed against the pillow in his slumber. Face puffy and eyes heavy, he props himself up on his elbow to check over your face the best he can in the dark. “What’s goin’ on?” He mumbles in confusion, half awake. Your breathing is deepening as you plead with your body for some relief—a losing battle. “N-nothing.” Your voice is small and whiny, you can’t help it.

Within seconds Eddie is wiping the drowsiness from his eyes and sitting up to flick the lamp on. His pupils dilate before you both squint in the sudden brightness. As he recovers, his face softens, carefully scooting closer to you to pull you up with him against the headboard. “Baby, what’s the matter, huh? C’mon tell me what happened.” Tone gentle and patient, he holds you against his bare chest and lovingly runs his hands down your arms. “H-hurts. Really bad.” Is all you can croak out in misery. He’s at a loss for words while he racks his brain for a few moments before it finally clicks and he remembers you’d started your period earlier in the day which elicited an annoyed reaction from you but hadn’t taken over quite yet like it has now. “Oh, sweets. ‘M sorry.” He whispers into your shoulder. “What can I do?” It’s a simple question however there is no answer because the fact is you’ve already tried everything while he was asleep next to you. He quickly realizes this when he glances around for a solution and finds every item that should have helped to alleviate the pain already discarded since they obviously didn’t work.

Guilt wraps around him like an unfriendly blanket, he should have been comforting you and not selfishly sleeping peacefully. Though it’s not his fault by any means he feels it’s the least he could do, he never had to go through that pain thankfully but he would do anything to make it stop so you could go to sleep. He knew how much you hated it when you struggled to sleep, how alone you feel on those nights when it won’t wash over you as easily as others, he knows all too well how it feels himself and he would never sleep again if it meant that you got endless nights of tranquility.

You can’t even respond in words anymore, opting to shake your head to let him know the answer is nothing. There is nothing that can be done, it’s just a waiting game at this point. Little pained noises escape you as you curl yourself into his chest, he gladly accommodates and molds his body around yours the way you need. “I know, sweetheart, I know. Do you need some water?” He offers hopefully. Another shake of your head has him frowning, his large hand cradling your head to his chest as a kiss is pressed to your temple. “How long have you been up?” Knowing you aren’t very verbal right now, he still asks the question. You whimper into his warm skin. “Never went to sleep.” He figured this was the case but his heart still breaks at the helplessness in your wavering voice. “Oh, baby.” He’s swaying you to the left and to the right in a soothing manner as if you were a child needing to be rocked to sleep. “You can always wake me up, okay? Won’t ever be mad, I promise.” His voice is quiet but honest, not a hint of hesitation.

Nodding against his chest, you continue to suffer through the agony, your face flushed and your skin sticky with sweat. “I have an idea.” Eddie speaks up again, using his thumb to tilt your chin up at him, his eyes pooling in sympathy as yours reflect misery. “Let’s get you in and out of the shower. It’ll make you feel all refreshed and I can give you a little massage and see if that helps. Wanna try that?” You want to cry at how attentive and soft he is, the adoring look he gives you makes you want to melt like candy in his hands. “Okay.” You whisper, although you wanted so badly to tell him no because of how bad the muscles in your legs were aching. Reluctantly, you crawl your way out of the bed and stand up shakily, Eddie right behind you. As you make your way into the bathroom, he has you sit atop the closed toilet seat while he turns the hot water on and heads for the door again. “You get undressed, I’m going to get you something comfy to wear.” He instructs. Your pouting and exhausted expression makes him want to hide you in his bed forever so that you can sleep all you damn well please. You agree and begin slowly stripping your clothes away, preparing to embrace the stream of steaming water.

Eddie returns seconds later with a neatly folded shirt that was definitely his and a pair of his boxers on top to use as shorts along with a pair of your ‘period panties’ that you winced at since they were already a bit stained from previous wars. You couldn’t help the embarrassment as they sat right there in plain sight even though Eddie had no reaction and didn’t understand your bashful expression. Despite all the time spent together, it was something you still felt sorry he had to deal with and you were working on it since he always told you there was nothing to be embarrassed about, that it was a natural thing and ‘blood is super metal anyway’ so how could he be grossed out? Those were his words. Once he processed where your focus was—on the stained panties used for this exact occasion, he sighs and sets the clothes on the counter as he steps closer to you and gives you ‘that look’. The one that tells you ‘what have we talked about?’. And then he goes onto his tangent. “If you’re looking at those panties again thinking I should be grossed out and feeling bad about it or whatever then stop. Cause I’m not and we have been over this. A little blood ain’t gonna scare me away, sweets.” He tells you with a raised brow, moving the shower curtain aside and gesturing for you to step into the shower. “Now, would you like me to come with you or do you want to be alone?” He’s pointing into the shower, a finger on the waistband of his boxers as he waits for your answer. You meekly tell him you’d like him to join you and he happily obliges.

The steaming water temporarily melts away the pain, meaning for a brief second before you can feel it again. It’s better than nothing so you take in as much of the hot water as possible since the trailer park didn’t have much to begin with and you were grateful that Eddie was sparing it in an attempt to make you feel better. Eddie’s hands slide around your waist from behind, fingers carefully massaging your lower stomach as he’s done so many times before. The combination of the hot water and the movements of his fingers provide some comfort even if just for a moment. His fingers slide along your wet skin to trace over your hips and to the dip under your spine where he begins working his magic at your lower back. A moan of content is earned from you and he smiles into your bare shoulder, leaving a kiss as he continues. “There you go.” He says, soft voice echoing off the shower walls. “Just give me all that tension, baby.” You shudder at his words as they tickle the skin of your neck. Another kiss pressed to your jaw, with sweet intention, nothing further. You visibly relax as his hands work against your tightened muscles, a breathy sigh leaving your lips. “Good girl, let it all out.” The hormones rage inside of you and you can’t help but throb at his words even though the pain is still evident in your uterus. Another kiss is placed on your neck, trailing more down to your shoulder. “E-eddie if you don’t stop we’re gonna have a problem.” You just about whine like a dog in heat.

A deep chuckle vibrates into your shoulder as his kissers get sloppier. “Yeah? You feeling better? My needy girl.” You can feel his grin against you and you don’t know if you want to wipe it right off his face or turn around and stick your tongue down his throat. “Eddie! ‘M on my period, we can’t.” You huff, now slightly in pain as well as sexually frustrated. “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t rile you up just to leave you hangin’ you know that.” He continues massaging his fingers into your lower back while kissing back up your neck again, his tongue licking up the water droplets that lingered. “Let me take care of you, baby. It might help.” He offers, slowly traveling his fingers back over your hips and cupping your heat in one hand, the other finding your nipple and giving it a pinch, causing you to whimper and melt into his touch. “Eddie nooo, I’m bleeding.” Your words say one thing but the way you mewl screams at him to abuse your clit until you're a puddle in his hands. “I don’t think you actually mind but I’ll stop.” He says removing his hand, you whine at the loss of his warmth. “I’m not gonna do anything until you tell me what you want.” His tone is teasing, he knows how worked up you are right now and he’s reveling in it, how desperate and huffy you are. He can only imagine how swollen that little bud between your legs is, he just wants to suck it right into his mouth—but maybe he’ll save that for another time. He didn’t want to scare you away, you were still learning to not be embarrassed about everything period related with him.

“Tell me what you want, use your words, honey.” He sounds mean but eager to please, your favorite. His lips are now lingering on the shell of your ear and you can’t take it anymore. “Please Eddie!” Your voice is high and whiny. “Please what?” He nibbles on your ear, your body jolting while his hands run down your arms. “Please play with me!” You beg, clenching your thighs and gripping at his arms. A smirk against your neck and his hand is back over your heat, a finger delicately tracing your slit tauntingly, his other hand gripping your waist. He continues to linger over your slit, a feather light touch as you longingly grind your hips to meet nothing. “That’s all you need, huh? Just need to be played with like a little toy?” His voice forces you to claw at his forearm, leaving little indents with your nails but he doesn’t mind. You pathetically try to create friction by grabbing his wrist and positioning his hand toward your clit but it fails. “You just need to cum don’t you? Will that make everything all better?” He asks, finger still tortuously close to where you need but not at all giving in. “Mmhmm.” You whine, head thrown back onto his shoulder. “Please, Eddie.” A whimper into his neck.

The pain is almost entirely forgotten about, a new kind of ache throbbing in your core. “Don’t worry, baby. Gonna take care of you. My good girl.” Eddie’s raspy voice echoes into your ear. The pad of his finger drags across your clit and a gasp escapes your lungs. The friction it creates is everything you need but also not enough at the same time. He picks up on a rhythm that has you stirring your hips into his hand, a series of moans leaving you as you grip into his bicep, nearly drawing blood. “That’s it, right there, huh?” He questions with a hint of mockery. You bite your lip as you nod, exhaling a heavy breath. He keeps his pace steady and brings his other hand up to travel over your chest, up your neck and lets his thumb caress your bottom lip, pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek. You can’t control it when you dip your head down to catch his thumb in your mouth, your tongue swirling around it and releasing it with a pop, it’s simply too perfect. Eddie releases a quiet groan while he grabs your neck, not restricting air flow but still putting you in your place, firmly pressing his chest into your back. “Baby, why are you acting so slutty for me? It’s like you’re in heat. Can’t get enough can you?” Again he says it so meanly but it spurs you in and you’re getting closer and closer as he rubs your clit just how you need. “E-eddie, please. Wanna cum so bad.” Your voice is barely there, so breathy and you’re pathetically bucking your hips. “Yeah? My pretty baby wanna cum? Make a mess for me baby, why don’t you?” He continues leaving sloppy open mouthed kisses down your neck, craning his head to leave a few on your heaving chest. You can’t form a coherent thought as you begin seeing spots and that feeling deep within you starts to coil up. The muscles in your abdomen begin to clench tightly as he builds you up into pure bliss. You’re almost there, chasing the release you so desperately crave, a whining mess in his arms. “There it is, come on, cum for me.” He urges, noticing the way your body begins to shake as you get closer and closer, eyes rolling back. “E-eddie.” A whimper escapes as you grip his bicep even harder than before. You’re teetering on the brink of your orgasm, it’s right in front of you all you have to do is take it.

Hot pleasure gushes through your veins as your body convulses and you greedily grind against Eddie’s hand. His other hand firmly grips your jaw as you involuntarily hang your mouth open, eyes shut in euphoria. “Such a good girl.” He mumbles into your neck, his arms are the only thing holding you up, your legs now shaky just from the pleasure, no longer the excruciating pain you experienced prior. You cling onto his arms as you come down from your high, his finger still lazily circling your clit until you become overly sensitive, writhing in his arms, trying to push his hand away. The noises you make as you struggle to wiggle away have him cursing under his breath but he still keeps his composure. “So fucking sexy, baby. Feel better?” He asks genuinely, nose pressed into your cheek as you recover. He ceases his movements against your clit, showing you mercy. “Much better.” You breathe out. You’re absolutely out of it, heavily breathing and flushed as your full weight is leaned against him.

At this point he knows your fucked out, the cramps from earlier combined with all of the energy you just exerted have taken a toll and he needs to get you to bed. Although he’s hard himself, he takes precedence in putting you first and he knows the time and place. Now is not it and he knows if he’d ask you, you would oblige and get him off but you really aren’t in any position to. Especially since now you seem so sleepy as opposed to earlier when you’d been having the worst time even closing your eyes. This is where he steps in to make sure your well-being is put above everything else. “Let’s get you to bed, okay?” He whispers, kissing your cheek, shutting the water off before reaching outside of the shower for a towel, still steadying you with one arm. “Okay.” You whisper back, eyes drooping dramatically.

A towel drapes around your frame as Eddie takes care to dry you off, turning you to face him while he tenderly presses his lips to yours. He finishes off by bundling you up and then reaching for his own towel. No words are required while you both step out of the shower and onto the bath mat. The mirror is foggy and the air is humid from all the steam the shower had just released. He gingerly grabs the towel off of you after he pats himself dry and lets you get yourself dressed, situating your pad and everything how you need it as he pulls his boxers on.

As you dress yourself, he quietly makes his way out of the bathroom, up to something but what, you’re not sure. Shrugging, you throw the towel over the shower curtain rod and head for his room, the bathroom door creaking on its hinge as you exit and turn out the lights. When you reach his room, you could just about sob at the sight. Eddie has your heating pad in place, already heated, a big glass of water on your nightstand that certainly wasn’t there before, a movie loaded up on the small tv resting on his dresser, and he’s digging through one of the drawers in the nightstand where your stuff lives, pulling out a hairbrush as he turns to look at you with big doting eyes. He throws himself onto his side of the bed and pats his hand on your side, inviting you in. “C’mere.” He says hushed, a dopey grin on his face. Happy tears brim at your eyes while without hesitation you hop into bed beside him. He pulls you between his legs as you face the tv, him pressing play on the remote while he gets to work on brushing out any tangles in your hair. “Thank you for taking care of me.” You tell him shyly, the movie playing in the background. A kiss is pressed to your crown. “Of course, sweets.” He mumbles. “Always, for you.” Once he finishes with your hair, you rest your head against his chest, his arms lazily draping around your waist while you almost fall asleep on him.

He knows you won’t be comfortable in this position as you fall deeper into sleep so he takes the liberty of moving you over to your side of the bed, wrapping himself around you like a human blanket in the process. Delicate breaths are felt on your neck while his fingers softly graze over your ribs. The movie is forgotten about as sleep finally takes over, allowing you to finally relax after a night of bloodshed. The last thing you remember is the feeling of Eddie’s calloused fingertips running along your back, encouraging you further into your dream state. A whispered “I love you.” seals the deal and you’re out for the night.

~end~

Masterlist

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you

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seat-safety-switch · 11 months

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Everyone knows me at the dump. I don’t mean this in a bragging sort of way. In fact, I hate this fact. The reason why everyone knows me at the dump is that Mr. Jones, the dump operator, has posted the CCTV footage and blurry cell-phone camera pictures of my face on the break room wall. Even the youngest probie at the dump will look at me, every morning, while they wait for the coffee machine to dispense their mandatory cup of black joy.

You can probably guess why this has happened to me. I love junk, and the dump has a lot of that junk. To me, it is offensive that the dump hoards that junk. They keep it from me, using excuses like “sanitation” and “safety,” but safety is my middle name. If they would just give me a chance, then I would be the best they’ve ever seen. I’d even remove and sort the little lithium-ion vape batteries that haven’t exploded yet, out of gratitude.

Of course, we both know why I’m digging through trash at the dump. I don’t want old Betamax VCRs, or mouldy cardboard boxes heralding products from a bygone era. Well, I do, but I don’t want them more than I want a two-stroke dirt bike, and I’ve seen tons of those over the years get callously tossed into the debris pile by the great unwashed. They’re always getting thrown out for little reasons, like “carb jet plugged,” or “caught on fire,” or “couldn’t get anyone to buy it on Craigslist for septuple the market value so I threw it away out of spite.” I could save these bikes, and to be not allowed to save them is literal torture.

Just like anyone else would in my shoes, I started wearing elaborate disguises to the dump. Sometimes I could loot one, and throw it into the back of my car, and be gone before the dump operators (there weren’t even security guards yet, back then) could catch up to me. I had enough disguises – and enough cars – that I could pull this off for a little while. Then, used cars got really expensive, and the folks in my neighbourhood started using security fasteners to hold on their license plates. I started to escape by tighter and tighter scrapes, until one fateful day.

That bastard Jones figured me out. He came from Chicago, of all places, a city which I’m pretty sure doesn’t even have a dump. And he knew my kind. He set a trap: an agonizingly pristine, 1989 Yamaha XT225. Sure, it was a four-stroke, but it was still love at first sight. It was planted right on top of one of the big piles of disposable diapers, visible even from the highway. Even knowing it was a trap, I made plans for months to grab it.

The joke’s on him, though. I’ve started my own private dump, and I’ve paid the government to start outsourcing dump operations to me. We’re an extremely efficient operation, much more affordable for the taxpayer than the wasteful public dump. How so, you ask? Well, we are much more selective with what waste we accept, and we wrote one helluva contract, which had a bunch of big words that confused the gin-addled politicos that signed it out of desperation to meet their “lower taxes” pledge.

Here’s how it works. We charge the city hundreds of thousands of dollars a month, and we get first pick of any internal combustion engines that are in the back of the garbage trucks. Everything else goes down the road to the regular dump. We’re making a fortune. If we keep putting out numbers like this, I’m sure there will soon be layoffs over at Jones’ shithole. Hell, maybe I’ll even hire him to manage security around these parts. Can’t have anyone walking off with my good trash.

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fortheloveofbuddie · 5 months

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Fuck It Friday ✨

I'm sorry for being AWOL (again lmao) but I've been working on the omegaverse fic literally every day for the past week and you're not gonna believe this, you guys - I DID IT!! I FUCKING FINISHED A FIC FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER 😭

So many of you have tagged me in these last few days and I can't wait to go through all of your amazing works 💕

Prev snippet here

(Story and tags under cut)

In the bedroom, he sits down carefully next to Buck and strokes his lower back gently, a soft sigh of relief escaping Buck’s lips as he feels the warmth of Eddie’s hand on his skin. “You’re in labor” Eddie states, his heart skipping a beat as a fatigued Buck sits up to meet his eyes in the darkened room. Buck swallows harshly, feeling bad for lying again. “Yes” He says and bites down on his lip, chewing on it gently as he places his hand on Eddie’s stubbled cheek. “Why didn’t you say anything?” Eddie’s heart aches in his chest, hating that Buck kept a truth from him once more. But this time, he was more willing to hear the reasoning why. “I didn’t want to take your time with your family away, I wanted you to be able to celebrate Christmas with them and to not worry about me. Besides he’s not supposed to be here for another three weeks and I think that-… that I didn’t say anything because that would make it all a little more real. I’m not ready, Eds. I’m not ready for this” Buck’s words are dripping with sincerity and he even sniffles quietly a few times to calm his racing heart down. Eddie reaches onto the nightstand and turns on the lamp, wanting and needing to look at Buck right now. He cups Buck’s head in his hands, feeling warm tears making their way down the sides of Buck’s face and he lets out a deep breath, one that had seemingly been growing inside of him because the pressure on his chest lessens. “Hey, let’s just get one thing clear, okay?” Eddie begins and tilts Buck’s head carefully, making him look into his eyes. “You are my family, mi amor. You and our son are my family too and I will always, always worry about you. Even if you don’t say it out loud. And I don’t want you to hide something like this just because my family is around. We’re in this together” He says, concern etched deep into his face as he holds eye contact with Buck, not letting him look away. “And I know that he isn’t supposed to be here just yet but we’ll handle it. We’re ready, you are ready, baby. You hear me?” His voice grows a little more firm as Buck averts his gaze and shakes his head, not wanting to hear it. “What if I’m a horrible dad? What if…” Buck wipes his tears away with the back of his hand, all of his unspoken fears bubbling to the surface as another contraction surges through his body, making him wince in pain and surprise. “What if he’s like me, Eddie? What if he’s an omega too? I spent so many years hating who I was because of it, feeling like I wasn’t good enough. What if I’m just as strict as my father and I can’t love him how I’m supposed to?” Buck’s voice breaks at the end of his sentence, insecurities washing over him like a tidal wave, sweeping away all of the confidence that he’s spent years building, with it, leaving nothing but a wreck of a man. “You are not your father, Evan. Just being able to recognize that you don’t want to be like your father is already a step in the right direction. I know that you will never hurt him like your father has hurt you, I know that you will help our son build the confidence and strength to be proud of who he is, no matter what. I know that you already love him and would do anything to see him happy. You are going to an amazing dad, you already are an amazing dad, promising to not be like your own and loving our son so damn much” Eddie’s speech is filled with adoration, love and so much pride in knowing that he’s creating a family with someone like Buck. Someone who loves so unconditionally. Someone who, in the face of adversity, is still able to show others how strong that he is. Someone who’s kind and caring. Someone makes Eddie want to be a better version of himself. That’s the man that Eddie knows that he’ll love for the rest of his life.

Tagged by @daffi-990 @giddyupbuck and @diazsdimples for FIF 🌹

Tagging!! @theotherbuckley @thewolvesof1998 @devirnis @jesuisici33 @hippolotamus @evanbegins @exhuastedpigeon @wildlife4life @loserdiaz @athenagranted @tizniz @wikiangela @cal-daisies-and-briars @honestlydarkprincess @disasterbuckdiaz @butraura @lover-of-mine 🦋💗

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie wip #this is actually crazy #like how did I complete an entire fic #literally doubled my word count in the span of a week #fortheloveofbuddie writes #fic: corner office consequences #should I post more on ao3?

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heart4reigns · 1 year

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OPERATION: TOGETHER, roman reigns and cody rhodes (i).

next chapter →

warnings: cigarettes, curse words, fighting, alcohol

tags: love triangles, powerful girlboss (y/n), breakups, paul being a dad to the bloodline, triple h being a father-figure to you, inaccurate events and descriptions

"COME on, (y/n)." you shook your head in disagreement. "no, jey. i'm not going to lunch with you. i know damn well you're just gonna set me up again with your stupid fucking cousin." he immediately stood up from his seat. "i- i am not setting you up! it's just the three of us like usual. you, me, jimmy, and solo... trust me!" "and i know that you're lying." another plan failed. you walked out of the room, still having jey following you like a lost dog.

"please?" he asked. "jey, i'm sorry," you paused for a second, facing him. "i get it that you're trying to make things alright for us. but, we're done..." you continued. "i'm sorry as well, because i just hate seeing my favorite people not speaking to each other." you sighed in frustration. "that doesn't mean we can stop being friends, you know i'm still your number one girl." your sentence put a smile on his face. "love you, (y/n). you're like a sister to me." "love you too, listen, i gotta bounce. have a meeting in like 10."

you were alone inside the board office, waiting for your fellow colleagues to arrive. "booking suggestion for..." your heart dropped when you read the sentence. "roman reigns against cody rhodes." you continued your sentence. being the co-creative director for both smackdown (your ex boyfriend's brand) and raw meant that you could never escape him. you groaned in despair, putting down your papers. "morning, (y/n)." you looked up and saw your boss. "morning, paul."

the board meeting bored the shit out of you. you already knew what was going on. your mind was somewhere else; on the beach with your ex boyfriend, smiling together as you felt the breeze tingling on your skin. "ms. (l/n)?" your short daydream was cut-off by one of your colleagues. "sorry, you were saying?"

"i wanted to know your opinions on the booking." you hesitated a bit to come up with an answer. "i've had this conversation with ms. (l/n) before, she finds it brilliant." the retired wrestler backed you up. "thank you." you mouthed to him. he gave you a small nod, continuing the meeting. "so it's settled then, it leads up to wrestlemania next year." you signed the papers.

with the contract being signed, you knew that you were going to meet your ex boyfriend for work purposes. the thought of that made you want to throw up. the meeting ended, everyone was packing up their papers. except for you, you stayed behind, not wanting to leave work yet. "(y/n), you're not done?" paul (or triple h, depends on what you saw him as that day; a boss or a talent) asked. "i still need to sort some papers for the upcoming matches." you said, not looking up from your paperwork.

he saw your devastated expression. "i guess i'll stay a bit with you, son." it was a long-running joke that you were his 'son'. "thanks, dad." you rolled your eyes. "is it the reigns thingy again?" you nodded at him, being completely vulnerable. "it's okay to let your feelings get in the way. but you have to know your position, at your age? co-creative director? you're what my kids call, a 'girlboss'." you chuckled at his statement.

"okay, you got me there. let’s do this.”

needless to say, you spent the day trying to finish all your paperwork before showtime. “right, you’ll be okay with raw? i’ll take over smackdown this week, i can’t go tonight because i have dinner with externals. don’t forget to tell cody to come to the office!” you nodded at his sentence, waving goodbye to him. you went to the parking lot and quickly drove to the arena for monday night raw. you had 15 minutes to spare before the briefing, so you took your time to light a cigarette.

you missed the times where you were nicotine-free. you also missed having a passenger princess aka your ex boyfriend. the two of you broke up almost 3 months ago. some said it was a ‘mutual breakup’, but to you–it felt like he broke up with you. the reason? time. you didn’t have time for him and he didn’t have time for you. although you still yearned his touch and his voice, you couldn’t do anything about it. some also said that you’ve changed, into this ‘cold bitch from upstairs’ persona.

truth be told you were just going through it. you have never loved anyone as much as you loved him. it was hard for you to return as your usual self. not to mention, you were also close to his cousins (who were trying to get you back together). jey, jimmy, and solo–you wouldn’t trade the world for your friendship with them. they also kept you updated with roman’s life (without him knowing). you felt in peace knowing that he was happy.

the two of you met during a company party and you fell in love at the first sight. he was gentle, a people’s person, and funny. maybe you drank too much that night to end up in his arms, but it was all worth it. the more you saw each other, the more attracted you were to him. you just wished that you spared more time for him, but like the realist person you were–people come and go. it was a matter of time for you to let him go.

everyone bowed their head as you walked the hallway. people were intimidated by your power. being co-creative meant that you were practically in charge of everything. you didn’t really meddle with raw a lot, it was usually paul who took care of the monday night screen-time. but he had other things to do, so raw was a breath of fresh air for you.

you also grew comfortable being in control of smackdown, as that was your ex boyfriend’s brand. but maybe paul thought you needed a change. “shit, she’s here tonight?” you heard several whispers from the crew. “then we can’t have any technical difficulties or she might fire you.” the whispers continued. you didn’t mind being this ‘bitch from upstairs’ if it meant that people wouldn’t treat you like shit anymore.

“camera 6, go higher.” you spoke to the earpiece. “got it boss.” the crew replied. “and… rolling in 3, 2, 1. cue the music.” you continued. “welcome everyone to monday night raw!” the announcer said as the crowd went wild. “i trust you from here, i’m gonna see the talents.” the staffs nodded. “if anyone fucks up, they’ll be seeing me after this show.” your tone gave the crew goosebumps.

the talent locker room was filled with superstars messing around and getting ready for their showtime. you monitored them from outside, not wanting to invade any of their privacy. “(y/n)?” you looked up and saw becky. “god, it’s been a long time since i’ve seen you here, girl!” she hugged you. “hey becks.” you returned the gesture. “what are you doing here? where’s paul? never mind, i take it back. i’d rather see you here!” the two of you chatted for a bit, before her screen-time.

“you’re up in 5.” you reminded her. “okay miss bitch from upstairs.” you rolled your eyes at her comment. “shut up.” she chuckled in response. “see you, (y/n)! wish me luck!” with that, she left you alone in the hallways with your papers full of rundown and cue cards. the earpiece started to go off, “ms. (l/n), rhodes is here.” “right.” he didn’t have any fights today, only delivering his promo.

you knocked on the locker room door. “it’s unlocked!” you opened it, seeing cody with his duffle bag. “cody,” you paused for a second. “oh, ms. (l/n)!” he flashed you a smile. “how many times do i need to tell you to call me (y/n)? i’m younger than you.” cody’s smile didn’t fade at all. “you might be younger than me but you have a higher position, of course i’ll be polite ma’am.” he was probably one of the few talents that weren’t intimidated by your presence.

“what can i do for you today, (y/n)?” he took of his hoodie, revealing his white shirt. “the board, or just paul and i, wanted to tell you that you are wanted in the office. when are you free?” you asked. “i thought you were asking me on a date, (y/n).” cody snickered. you knew he was a huge flirt, but it was all just for fun and jokes. “i’m serious.” you stated. “i’m free next wednesday. what’s up by the way?” he asked. “we… have a contract for you and roman.” cody instantly stopped doing what he was doing and faced you.

pitiful looks came from him. “damn, (y/n). must’ve been hard dealing with heartbreak and still seeing the person who broke your heart almost every week.” you clenched your fist. “you don’t know anything about me, rhodes.” your tone was laced with venom. his gaze softened. “okay, i’m sorry. that was on me, (y/n).” he apologized, trying to diffuse the situation. “is that all? because i’m gonna strip down to my undies, unless you want to stay.” why the fuck is this guy not afraid of me? you thought. “i’ll text you the details tomorrow.”

the night ended with a blast. you were tired but still had to meet with the guards. “i want everyone out of the building by 3.” you were briefing the security guards. they all nodded in unison. “i’m trusting you with this, dongmin.” you stared at the head-guard. “and i won’t let you down, ms. (l/n).” you nodded at him and went to the parking lot, looking for your car keys. your attention diverted to a certain black-haired man leaning on his car. jesus, give me a fucking break, you thought.

the two of you immediately made eye-contact. “(y/n)!” he greeted you, as if nothing was wrong. “what the fuck are you doing here, roman?” your question caught him off guard. “i- i’m here to pick up seth. we’re getting dinner tonight.” he hesitated. “what are you doing here? i thought you were on smackdown-duty.” you scoffed at him. “you know i’m in control of both brands? i don’t need to explain myself to you, roman.”

silence filled the air. “you want to come and eat with seth and i? like old times?” you wanted to cry at his sentence. how could he act like nothing ever happened between us, you thought. “i can’t.” and to your luck, you heard footsteps coming behind you. “(y/n), (y/n)! you dropped your car keys in my locker room earlier! oh.” it was cody, with his fucking duffle bag again. the blond awkwardly stood in the middle of you two, not knowing what to do. “thanks cody.” you muttered, taking you keys. “what do you say, dinner?” roman continued.

“i can’t, i have plans with cody.” before cody could respond, you shoved him into the passenger seat. you blinked at him, signaling that he needed to comply with you. “so you and him?” you shook your head. “no, mind your own business.” you started your car and drove off, not wanting to interact anymore with him. cody was left puzzled as he just went to the parking lot to deliver your keys but he ended up in your passenger seat.

“great timing, i didn’t bring my car. thank you for driving me back to the hotel, (y/n)! you owe me something, i helped you!” “cody, for this once, please just shut up.”

roman was left speechless by your actions. he was also surprised that you’d let anyone in your passenger seat. the man felt his heart ached for a second. what was going on between you and cody? he thought.

a/n: GODDD I’M SO EXCITED FOR THIS SERIESSSS LET’S FUCKING GOOOO!

#roman reigns #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns x reader #the usos #wwe #wwe imagines #paul heyman #wrestling #cody rhodes #jey uso #jimmy uso #seth rollins #becky lynch #brock lesnar #triple h #cody rhodes x reader #cody rhodes imagine

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absurdthirst · 1 year

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Crossing Enemy Lines {Max Phillips x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 10.1k

Warnings: Insults, vampirism, mentions of blood drinking, oral sex (male and female receiving), rough sex, crude humor, Max being Max, angst.

Comments: Competitors and enemies? You are both not the other's favorite person but for some reason, hate sex is great sex.

Co-written @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Max Phillips MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Max adjusts his tie as he strides into the conference. A new annual event for vampires who are in business. As the branch manager, he received his invitation to the conference last month and he’s been excited to dominate the scene. Especially after he heard you’d be coming too. Grabbing his badge, Max makes his way into the welcome event and that’s when he sees you. Red dress, professional yet just the right amount of tight to be sexy, and he smirks as he makes his way over to you. “Fancy seeing you here, sweetheart.” Max winks at you as he strides over to you.

“Phillips.” You greet him coolly, “I’m surprised you’re here. I thought they had a separate conference for subpar regional branch managers who always fail to meet their quarterly quota.” You smirk, eying Max in his red tie and what he claims is a bespoke suit.

His smile falters for a split second before it’s back, more powerful than before and the sharpness in his eyes focuses on you. “I was surprised that you were invited too, sweetheart.” He reaches up and tightens the full windsor knot of his Hermès tie. The gold thumb ring and Rolex match the tie clasp, all coordinated with the cufflinks that wink at his wrists. Dramatic, but Max likes to dress for the job he wants, not the job he has. “I’m sure you’ll get those numbers up.”

“Is that what your credit card companies ask for when you’re late on the minimum payment?” You retort, noticing what he is so desperate to show off about. “Oh honey, you’ll pay them off. You just need some more sales…oh wait…I’m not going to allow you to encroach on my clients. You’ll just have to tell those credit cards you can’t pay for those fancy cufflinks.” You click your tongue, reaching out to adjust his tie to just a hair off of being perfect.

Max hisses slightly, annoyed that you had messed with the lines of his tie. “Is that what you believe?” He bats your hand away, lifting a brow as he fixes the tie again and reaches out to flick his finger under your ear lobe. “The Moissanite is nice, but it doesn’t have the sparkle of a real diamond.” He chuckles. “I understand though. If I lost the Phalicite contract to another firm, I wouldn’t be splurging either. Oh right….I was that firm.” He boasts quietly. “What was it they said? She just couldn’t get it done?” He tuts, giving you a disappointed look before he gives a small shrug. “They are happy now.”

You bite down the growl that tries to escape from his jab. It pained you to lose that contract and you shake your head, letting out an unamused chuckle. “You might’ve won the battle, big shot, but I will win the war.” You pat his chest, “now it’s time to network big boy. May the best woman win.” You wink, striding off to meet the CEO of that company you’ve been trying to close for months.

Max watches you walk away, his eyes firmly glued to your ass. You are a pain in the ass, but you have a fantastic one, so he lets you get away with more than someone else could. Deciding that it’s war, he plasters on his most charming persona and starts working the room, eager to one up you on connections and leads for new business. You are competition and he loves a challenge.

By the time you’re done charming the hell out of most of the big wigs in the room, a lot of them spent far too long eying your cleavage. You lean against the bar, desperate for a drink. Thank God you can still get drunk from alcohol. Even if it takes more, you still get the effects. You gesture for the bartender to come over and order yourself a gin martini. “Two olives.” You add and the bartender gives you an odd look but goes ahead to pour your drink. When you have the drink, you take a much needed sip until his voice invades your ears again.

“Olives? What you gonna do? Eat them?” Max snorts, gesturing for the bartender to come over. He orders a whiskey on the rocks and you turn to look at him.

“I like the aesthetic.” You explain with a brief shrug.

“Aesthetic.” Max scoffs and shakes his head. “Why pretend to be human when we are so much better?” He asks, tapping his finger on the bar as he waits for his drink. “Name one thing that a human is better at, I’ll wait.”

“Sex.” You answer Max and he chuckles, thinking you’re joking.

“Seriously? Why the fuck would you think that? They have to breathe, they need breaks. They can’t keep going all night long.”

You snort, “exactly. Humans have enthusiasm. They have passion. It’s not perfect, it can be sloppy, but any human lover I’ve had has been one hundred percent into fucking me. Vampires are cold, emotionless. It’s just an act, physical pleasure. There’s no emotion behind it, not even lust really. We are heartless machines and that - the lack of compassion - makes us great in sales and boring in bed.”

Max snorts, sending you a pitying look. “Just because you choose bad lovers doesn’t mean that vampires as a whole are bad in bed.” Smirking he points at himself. “Take me for example, by the time I’m done, you will be as exhausted as a vampire can get, begging for a break from the orgasms and pleasure. Humans don’t stand a chance.” He boasts.

You roll your eyes after taking a sip of your drink. “Sure Phillips. Is that what they tell you? After you buy them the Louis Vuitton purse you can’t afford?” You snort, “I highly doubt you have someone begging for a break. Maybe a break from you, not your cock.”

Max is cocky, maybe a little too much sometimes but he knows how to fuck. He ignores the little insult towards his finances, he’s well aware of his bank balance and smirks as he leans in. “Only one way to find out, sweet cheeks.” He challenges. “I could give you testimonies from past lovers, or I could just let you experience Maxie boy for yourself.”

You roll your eyes, “you called my pussy the arctic circle and said that any man who dares to venture into it would surely freeze to death. So, you got some mittens?” You smirk, deciding to mess with him. “Or perhaps you can borrow some fuzzy socks from one of your pals over there.” You gesture to the group of vampires who are just like Max: egotistical and beyond cocky. You lean closer to Max, grabbing his tie to bring him closer and you brush your lips against his ear, “or you can go fuck yourself.” You smirk, leaning back to grab your drink, you down it and order another one from the bartender.

Max grunts, unable to believe that you just made his cock twitch with the breathless way you had told him to go fuck himself. He’s always like ballsy women and despite the professional rivalry, you are just his type. “If you can’t handle the idea of having a real man fuck you, that’s all you have to say, sweetheart.” Max coos, reaching out and sliding his index finger down your arm. “Stick with the blood bags who can’t bury their face in the Arctic circle until it’s hotter than a furnace without coming up for air. No skin off my teeth.”

You raise an eyebrow as he orders another whiskey. You glance around the bush room, the endless chatter almost melding into one noise. “I want to know something.” You announce after the bartender sets your drinks down.

“Shoot.” Max says before sipping his double whiskey.

“Why do you want to fuck me? I thought we hated each other?” You lean against the bar, showing him more of your cleavage.

Max snorts, “hate fucking can be the best sex ever.” He admits with a shrug and your heart sinks a little that he actually does hate you so much despite you just doing your job.

Yes, you’ve goaded him but to hear it confirmed, it takes you back for a moment. “Here’s a proposal-”

Max interrupts you, “oh I didn’t say marriage-”

You roll your eyes again, “an offer.” You amend and he hums, “if you still want to fuck me by the end of this event, come to my room…1012. If you still want to fuck me, you can come to mine and I want you to spend the entire night making me cum. If you can’t do that, don’t come. If you don’t want that, I understand. Now, there’s the CEO for HP. I think we have a deal in the works. Thanks for the drinks, Phillips.” You wink and stride off, leaving him with the tab.

It’s fucking hard to concentrate on business for the rest of the night. To socialize and pretend he’s not discreetly checking his Rolex and glancing around the ball room to see where you are in proximity to him. Even the cute little redheaded human who flirts with him doesn’t capture his interest, and he always likes the taste of redheads - very mellow. The idea of fucking the attitude and sarcasm out of you is almost as intoxicating at the four other whiskeys he drinks. Another plus of being the undead is that he doesn’t have to worry about alcohol affecting his performance in bed. When the clock strikes midnight, the official ending time for the event, Max looks around to see that you’ve disappeared. Making him smirk as he tosses back the rest of his whiskey and make his apologies before he leaves, foregoing the elevator and speeding up the stairs to the tenth floor. Pausing outside of room 1012 to adjust his hair and straighten his tie before he knocks.

You check your hair in the mirror, freaking out a little despite the drinks you’ve had. It’s hard to believe that Max Phillips is about to fuck you but you don’t try to think too much about what happens tomorrow morning when you open the door to Max Phillips, naked and waiting for his reaction. There was no point staying dressed. This saves time and as a manager, you’re all about time management. “You ready?” You ask him, chuckling at the dumbstruck look on his face.

“Jesus sweetheart.” Max manages after he stops staring. He sweeps into the room, “if you were that eager, we should have done this a long time ago.” He reaches down and unbuttons the jacket of his suit and shrugs it off to drape over a chair. He smirks and grabs your waist to step close to you. “Now, do I make you scream my name on my cock or my tongue first?”

“Eager? You wish, Phillips. I’m just efficient. Take your clothes off too. Wanna see if your ego is backed up by what you’re packing.” You reach for his tie, pulling him closer so you can press your lips to his while his hands dig into your waist.

His cock twitches, already hardening just at the sight of you and he knows he won’t disappoint you size wise. His tongue slides into your mouth and he groans when you bite it before soothing it slightly. “Dirty girl.” He hisses, smirking happily when one hand slides up to squeeze your breast harshly and pinch your nipple, pulling down on it. “You want a striptease and denied me the same show.”

“I didn’t say I wanted a striptease, Phillips.” You chuckle, working on pulling off that ridiculously expensive tie. “I just wanted to surprise you.” You admit, moaning when he kisses along your neck while you work on unbuttoning his shirt.

“I was surprised.” Max pants, pinching your nipple again and biting down on your shoulder as he slides his hand down to grab your ass. His cock is tenting his suit trousers and he pushes it up against your hip. “Very happily surprised. You’d get a shit ton more sales if you just worked naked.”

You chuckle dryly, “I want to get sales based on my skills, not my tits. Otherwise I’d be like those girls from Chimtech. Just sleeping their way up the ladder. I’m not like that.” You tell him truthfully, reaching down to undo his cufflinks, tossing them onto the coffee table with accuracy, and you push his shirt off of his shoulders.

Max knows that. You are one of the few that he’s hadn’t seen at any of the clubs or honorable mentions at the orgies. It was one of the things that had caught his attention with you. He unbuttons his trousers and grins at you. “Ready?”

You roll your eyes and step away from him to sit on the bed, giving him an expectant look as he pulls down the zipper, opening his pants and shoving them down along with his designer boxers. You swallow harshly at the sight of his hard cock, thick and fucking gorgeous. No wonder he’s such a cocky motherfucker. “Fuck me.” You blurt out, surprised by the monster he has in his pants.

Max’s brow twitches and he sends you a cocky smirk. “Oh I’m going to sweetheart.” He promises as he kicks his pants off and bends down to peel his socks off to fling aside. His cock bobs heavily and he stands straight and wraps his hand around it to stroke. “Spread your legs, baby. I want to see the Arctic circle before I visit.”

You roll your eyes against his words, “you’re an asshole.” Yet you follow his order, shifting to sit back against the pillows and you slowly, with a smirk, spread your legs to display your cunt to his hungry gaze. You tease, caressing your thighs, “you gonna keep me waiting, Phillips?”

“Fuck, you have a pretty cunt.” Max groans, squeezing himself lightly before he lets go. “Bet you taste good.” His mouth waters at the idea and his fangs start to descend before he catches himself. He knows he wouldn’t want fangs against his cock so he wouldn’t do that to a lover. He stalks over to the bed and pushes you back before he drops to his knees, smirking and winking at you before he dives in.

You gasp when his tongue slides between your folds and you reach down to tangle your fingers in his hair. “Oh you son of a bitch.” You hiss when he flicks his tongue expertly over your clit. You can’t believe how good he is already. He has already worked you up more than most lovers can during an entire night and the bastard has done it within thirty seconds.

Max chuckles into your cunt but he doesn’t stop. He eats you voraciously. Like you are the best goddamn thing that he’s ever tasted and if he pulls away your cunt would disappear. There’s nothing polite about it. No gentle licks or soulless sucks on your clit. It’s sloppy, messy and fucking pure Heaven for him. Loving the sounds you make while he repeatedly curls his tongue up inside your walls, shakes his head so his squashed nose stimulates your clit. He loves not having to breathe to eat a woman out, loves that his jaw doesn’t ache or get tired. He could do it all night if he needed to, even as his cock leaks onto his thighs as he wears your legs as a scarf.

You can’t even speak, your mouth falling open and fangs threatening to poke through as Max rocks your world. Your thighs press against his cheeks, suffocating him and you would’ve killed a human by now but Max isn’t human and he doesn’t need to breathe. His tongue is curled so deep and combined with that aquiline nose, you are close to your orgasm. “Oh fuck!” You squeal when you squeeze your tits, the added stimulation sending you over the edge and you curse Max for being so fucking good at that.

Max growls into you, licking and sucking up your release and working you through the orgasm before his tongue turns softer. Gently fluttering against your clit before he kisses it and gives you a self-satisfied smirk. “That was one, sweetheart.” He coos. “Ready for another or do you want to experience the ‘main event’?”

You can’t even offer him a smart retort as you recover from the way his tongue made you cum harder than you have in years. “Shit Max. The amount of bullshit that comes out of your mouth and yet it can do that. Fuck. I- main event? You are done already?” You tease, reaching down to rub your over sensitive clit.

Max snorts, aware that you are goading him but he’s going to make you eat your words. Smirking, he uses his inhuman strength to easily flip you into your stomach and yanks your hips up. Burying his face back into your cunt from behind.

Your cry echoes off of the wall and you nearly rip the sheets as your fingers curl into them while Max’s tongue slides back into your sensitive cunt. “Oh fuck baby.” You gasp out, falling forward onto your forearms and arching your back as his nose presses against your puckered hole. You whimper when his fingers slide under you to rub your clit. “Max. Oh God, right there. Fuck. Yes. There.” You moan when his fingers curl and he finds that spot that makes your thighs shake. “That - that’s it baby. That’s it. Right there.” You whine until it turns into a loud moan as you cum for the second time, gushing over his tongue and chin.

He hums, keeping his tongue and fingers moving as your hips rock back in his face. He loves that you are chasing your pleasure and aren’t shy about giving orders. Max might be the boss, a powerhouse at work; but he doesn’t mind taking direction when it means that he will make you scream out his name. Something that will happen before tonight is over. When your thighs stop shaking, Max chuckles and slides his tongue up to circle the other little hole that has captured his attention with all its fluttering and begging for attention.

You gasp when his tongue presses against your puckered hole. “Fuck Max.” You rasp, voice growing hoarse from the moans that have rattled the room. “Get inside of me. Now.” You demand, reaching behind you to tug on his hair, now messy and out of its usual style.

He flicks his tongue against your hole one last time before he moves over and bites your cheek playfully. “What hole do you want me in first?” He teases, sliding his fingers up and down between both. “I think I want the Arctic circle first.” The slap of his hand against your ass is harsh in the room and he chuckles when you moan.

You can’t even bring yourself to roll your eyes as he grips his cock and teases your clit with the head. “Is this how long you take to close all your sales, Phillips?” You taunt, grinding back against him. When he just chuckles and notches his cock at your entrance, pushing into you in one thrust, your clever remark is long forgotten as his cock pushes into you and stretches you out.

“Fuuuuuck.” Max hisses, slapping your ass again as he circles his hips and grinds into you. You feel incredible and he would stay right here for an hour, just feeling your walls pulse around him but then you would complain. Instead, he wrap his arm around your sternum and drags you up before he drops his hips and starts fucking you like a madman.

You pant, gripping his forearm and you don't pull it away as you let him choke you. It's a good thing you don't need to breathe. "Fuck baby. It's-" You moan, leaning back against him as he hammers into you. His hips hitting your ass as he fucks you hard and fast.

Max hums, loving how you are taking his cock. “It’s what? Wonderful? The best you’ve ever had?” He drags his nose up your neck, pressing where he would have felt your pulse if you had one but there is nothing. “I know. I know it’s good baby, this pussy feels amazing. Taking me like this. Letting me fuck you hard…and now even harder.” He ramps up his thrusts to a pace that would kill a human without breaking a sweat or panting.

The bed squeaks beneath you due to the sheer force of Max's thrusts and he takes your useless breath away. "O-o-h-m-y-G-o-d." You sound out each syllable as he fucks you harder than anyone you've ever had. Your pussy feels like it's being pounded in your guts and you can only let him use your cunt like this. "Maaaax!" You wail as he hammers against something magnificent inside of you.

“There it is.” He hisses, grinning into your neck and nipping your skin playfully. “That’s what I want to hear. Except - louder sweetheart. Gotta let the front desk know who’s fucking you.” The hand not pinning you to him gropes your breast and then slides down to slap your clit.

His fingers hitting your clit makes you nearly fold over but his grip on your throat keeps you upright. Max has all the control right now but you aren’t mad about it. You kind of love it, the lack of decisions so unlike your work life. This is nothing but pleasure and you love it. “Oh fuck.” You gasp, turning your head as much as you can to try to find his lips.

Max knows what you want and he doesn’t deny you. His cock continues to shred up into your throbbing cunt with devastating accuracy against your g-spot and he slides his tongue into your mouth. Kissing you roughly while the quick slaps of his hips against your ass fill the room. Grinning against your lips when he slaps your pussy again.

You moan into his mouth, unable to help yourself, and when Max grins against your lips, you cry out and clamp down on his cock. Hard. Gripping him in a vice as your thighs shake and your cum soaks his cock. It’s the most violent orgasm you’ve ever had wrack your body and it’s caused by the man you hate.

Max groans out your name, loving how you are soaking him and the bed beneath you. The way you squeeze his cock has him caught up in your walls where he can barely move, grinding up into you while he seeks his own pleasure. Giving a rough half dozen thrusts before he groans again, filling you with a hot flood of his useless seed.

You pant against his mouth, just breathing him in as he rocks into you, pushing his cum out of you onto the sheet below. “Fuck.” You sigh in bliss, just letting the feelings move through your system as Max kisses your neck. “That was - I hate to admit it but it was good.”

Chuckling as he takes both of you down to the bed to lay down, he’s feeling smug as fuck at your fucked out posture. “Good.” He hums, twitching inside you before he pulls out and shuffles so he can watch your cunt drip his cum. “Fuck, I should take a picture.” He jokes, not serious in the least. Even as a vampire, he has some morality.

You snort, knowing he wouldn’t do it, but you look at him. “So you could show it off to all your work buddies? How you fucked your ice queen rival?” You chuckle dryly, reaching down to push two fingers inside, scooping some of his cum out of your cunt and you shove those fingers in your mouth to taste Max’s cum combined with yours.

Max groans and he watches your tongue flutter around your fingers as you sucks them clean. He grins and his own finger dips into your dripping hole for a taste of his own. “Was thinking more to jerk off to later on.” He winks and licks his finger. “Fuck, you do taste good. Is it the blood you drink?”

You smile, “yeah. I only drink from the rich.” You admit and wink at him, letting him know you’re joking. “I think someone told me once that our taste carries over from when we were human.” You reveal, “so I tasted that good before.” You smirk and nudge him with your foot which he grabs. “So what is this? Are we - ?” You bite your lip. “Fucking?” Max provides and you nod. “Who would’ve thought it? Did you, um, did you enjoy it?” You ask, offering a rare moment of vulnerability.

Max is greedy, sliding his hand up your leg and thigh. “Mhm.” He hums, smiling as he touches you like he’s never been allowed to before. “Dick didn’t freeze off.” He teases playfully. “Definitely not the Arctic circle, it’s warm, tight, fucking gooood.” He reveals honestly before he winks. “Ready to go again?” He asks, waggling his brows. “Did promise to fuck you all night after all.”

You chuckle, moving fast to straddle him, reaching down to grip his still hard cock and you sink down onto it, your combined cum pushed out as you grip his shoulders. “It’s my turn to fuck you Phillips.” You smirk, clenching around him.

“Fucccccckkkk.” Max’s eyes roll back from how quickly you sit on his cock and his fangs do spring down and make him look like the predator he is. His fingers dig into the meat of your hips, right above the thighs and he bucks his hips up. “Fuck me. Ride my cock. Wanna see your tits bounce in my face.”

You reach out to caress one of his fangs with your finger before you cup his cheeks, working your hips to start bouncing on his cock. You shift, tangling your fingers in his stupidly thick hair and your tits bounce in his face as you ride his cock hard and fast.

He’s in fucking Heaven. Keeping his fangs away from your flesh, he captures a nipple to suck on while you ride him. Groaning into your tits and lavishing them with attention while his cock twitches every time you yank on his hair. Humans never do it hard enough and most vampires try to yank it out. Your pressure on his scalp is perfect. “Fuck.”

"You're such a dick but your cock is so good." You compliment him and insult him at the same time. "Fuck Max." You pant, grinding your hips to push his cock deeper and you are grateful your thighs won't ache as you rock on his cock like he's a prize stallion.

“Ride it.” Max growls, grinning at the fight you put up but your cunt is soaking wet around him. “That pretty little cunt likes my big dick inside it, doesn’t she?” He coos, thrusting his hips up. “Wanna ride it all the time now, dontcha?”

You want to roll your eyes at his words, cringeworthy if you were sober and not currently sitting on his cock. You slam down onto his cock, "you wanna be inside of this pussy all the time now, dontcha?" You taunt back, tugging on his hair to tilt his head back so you can lick along his neck.

There’s a distinct, needy whine that pours out of Max’s throat while you clench around him and lick his skin. “Shit yes.” He chokes out. “Work while I’m inside you. Have you sit on my cock while we- we fucking make money.” His fingers dig into your hips even harder and he lifts you up and pulls you back down on his cock just as harshly as you had, groaning again.

You throw your head back when he starts to move you on his cock but you won’t let him have control. You push him backwards, grabbing his forearms and pushing them over his head. You are stretched over his body, tits swaying in his face as you start to ride his cock, grinding back onto it while you restrain him as much as you’re physically able to.

“Fuck.” Max grinds his teeth together, getting your unspoken warning to stay still and he tries to comply. It’s so hard when you feel so fucking good around him. He had never imagined it would feel this good. “Jesus Christ, sweetheart. If my heart pumped you would stop it.” He grunts out.

You giggle breathlessly at his compliment, looking down at those now black eyes, full of lust for you. “Thanks Maxie. Your cock isn’t too bad.” You tease and he makes you cry out when he thrusts up into you. “Oh fuck!” You moan, especially when he takes your nipple into his mouth again. “Again. You’re gonna make me cum.” You plead, bucking back onto his cock.

Now it’s not a fight for control, it’s just a race for pleasure. Both of you know it’s going to come but you’re greedy. Max obeys your order and bucks up into you, bouncing you on his cock and he nearly chokes with how hard you squeeze him when he hits that magical spot inside your silken walls. “Shit baby, cum. Cum all over my cock. Wanna feel it- wanna-“ he breaks off with a loud moan when you squeeze him again, so close to cumming himself.

Your mouth falls open and nothing comes out as two more thrusts of his hips has you falling over the edge, clamping down on his cock in a way that you are squealing his name when the noise finally breaks free. Soaking him with your cum as you still above him, shaking from the intensity of the orgasm.

Max whimpers, eyes closing and his arms wrap around you. Holding you while he rocks up into you frantically. Chanting your name over and over again for another three thrust before he is pushing deep, wanting to crawl inside you while he fills you up again. Loving the perk of being a vampire and unable to get STDs or cause pregnancy.

“Fuck.” You huff shakily, shifting to look down at him and admire his handsome face, fangs pointing out, and you lean down to lick one playfully with your tongue. “Shit. That was good, baby.” You caress his cheeks and down to his neck and then his chest.

Max smirks, proud of the fact that you are saying that it was good. His strokes your back, your skin still smooth and cool, unable to sweat since you are technically dead. “Still think sex with a vampire isn’t better than a human?” He asks, brow raised and curious as to your answer.

You bite your lip, hating to say no but you can’t deny it when he has made you cum so hard. “Maybe you’re starting to change my mind.” You tease and Max growls, turning you over and playfully biting down on your neck. “So…we, uh, this is it? Just one night.” You say after a moment.

Pulling away so he can look down at you, Max makes a split second decision, reading your tone and the searching look on your face. “Doesn’t have to be.” He hums, running his tongue over his teeth and his fangs retract. “We are both busy, real go-getters.” He muses. “It would make sense that we continue this. Work out our needs, frustrations on each other. Use this great sex we have.” He doesn’t say that he wants it again, but he does. He really does. Fuck, he wants to stay the night.

You hum, thinking about it for a moment. “I suppose it makes sense to get our…frustrations with each other out in a healthier way. Keep business as business but enjoy our pleasures too.” You sit back to get off of him, flopping down on the bed beside him. “You can’t tell anyone about it though.”

He frowns for a second, not liking the idea of secrecy but then he decides to let that go. “Of course.” He manages a smirk and a shrug by the time you turn your head to look over at him. “Lips are sealed. I’m not going to tell that the Arctic circle is conquerable.” He jokes, winking at you before he sits up. He needs to go back to his own room before he argues about your condition to continue fucking.

You roll your eyes at him before you sit up, glad you don’t ache like you would when you were human. Max probably would’ve killed you with how hard he fucked you. “I guess I’ll see you around, Phillips.” You shuffle off of the bed, anxious for a shower to clean up and he gets up, grabbing his clothes to start dressing. “I’m going to shower. Let yourself out.” You tell him and he nods, watching you make your way to the bathroom door. “Oh by the way, I like that tie.” You inform him with a wink and saunter into the bathroom, leaving him to it.

****

Max smirks when he knocks on your door before just pushing it open. You’ve been sleeping together for nearly three months and he’s just made himself at home with walking into your house when he gets off work. You hold up a finger, still halfway dressed when he knows you would normally be naked, your phone still to your ear. “Jerry, I promise you the projections are wrong.” You tell him, making Max’s smile widen even more. Your stocking are still on and you obviously was interrupted from your task of getting ready for him to fuck you by the business call. Max strides over to you and caresses your hip while you narrow your eyes at him, obviously wanting him to be quiet while you work. Winking, he lowers himself to his knees and shreds the underwear under your garter belt so he can get to your pussy.

You gasp, “fucking hell” and Jerry asks you what’s wrong. “Nothing Jerry. Nothing. Ma- My tea was hot.” You lie even as Max’s tongue carves a path through your folds. “Fuck you.” You mouth down at Max whose dark eyes are watching you with amusement. You won’t let him win, tangling your fingers in his hair, you force yourself to concentrate on the call, listening to Jerry rattle off numbers. “Jer-Jerry. That’s not right. It’s one hun- oh.” You moan when Max sucks on your clit. Flustered, you clear your throat, “sorry about that Jerry. Tea was delicious.” You manage to lie, continuing to rattle off the numbers despite Max driving you to distraction with his tongue.

Huffing quietly in amusement, Max slides his hands up to massage your ass while he licks into you. Noticing that you have no issue pulling your leg up onto his shoulder while you sag against the counter. Smirking to himself while his tongue licks into you and he shakes his head to brush his nose against your cunt. Fuck, it’s fun to watch your control pull thin, to hear you try to keep your composure while he is unraveling you.

Max’s tongue slides deep but it’s not enough. You lift your leg onto the counter, giving him more access than before, and he shifts to sit on the floor, wrapping his arm around your leg to keep you stable while his tongue slides deeper. “Fuck.” You hiss, head tilted back to rest against your fridge that’s full of blood bags.

“What?” Jerry asks and you can barely think with the way Max is destroying your composure.

“I’m sorry Jerry. I’m gonna have to - to call you back. You have the numbers. Figure it out.” You growl and hang up, tossing your phone on the counter and you reach down to tangle your fingers in Max’s hair, rocking onto his face. “You’re a bastard.” You tell him with a groan.

His laugh is louder now, his hand slapping your ass loud enough that ‘ole Jerry would have heard it if he had still been on the phone. Instead of pulling away and making a snarky comment, he decides he’ll make you cum first. Hearing you cry out is rapidly becoming his favorite fucking thing in the world, better than landing a huge sales contract. Better than beating you. His tongue flicks over your clit and he moves one hand to push three fingers into your cunt while he sucks your clit into his mouth to suck harshly, as if he’s trying to drink from your cunt.

You decide to give in to the pleasure and not be mad, especially when he is fingering you exactly how you like it. You moan and rock down onto his digits and his face, moaning wantonly at the way he sucks on your clit. “Fuck. I’m gonna cum.” You tell him, “Max. Oh shit. Max. Max. Ma-” You choke, knee buckling as you clamp down around his fingers and soak them with your cum.

Holding you up, Max groans as he works you through it. Loving how his fingers squelch your cum slides down his knuckles. Sucking on your clit until you are whimpering his name and your stomach heaves with overstimulation. His cock is fucking hard as rock but he just kisses your curls and smirks up at you as he pulls is soaked fingers out of your cunt. “Good job, baby.” He coos playfully. “I don’t think he knew you were having your cunt devoured.”

“You’re such an asshole.” You say breathlessly, reaching down to drag him up onto his feet and when he’s standing, you press your lips to his. “Fuck me.” You order, reaching down to squeeze his cock through his pants before you work them open, managing to wrap your fingers around Max’s throbbing cock. “Someone got turned on eating pussy.” You tease, kissing his chin.

Rolling his eyes, he huffs at you. “Duh.” He is throbbing and he knows that just a few strokes of your hand would have him cumming but he wants to fill up that fucking perfect cunt of yours. “Up,” He orders, grabbing your hips and lifting you easily onto the counter with his inhumane strength. Your legs spread easily for him and he loves how soaked you are for him. “Should bend you over and make your ass bounce.” He grumbles, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours while he lines up and sinks inside you.

You moan into his mouth, gripping his shoulders before you shove your hands under his shirt to caress his back, admiring the strength of his muscles. “You like kissing me too much.” You murmur, crossing the invisible line that neither of you discuss the other’s preferences too much. It makes it more than what it is. Just sex. Max nips your chin, making you moan, and you shift so you are hanging on the edge of the counter, allowing him deeper inside of you.

He does like kissing you. As much as he can. Too much if he were to sit down and think about it, so he doesn’t let himself. You were very clear where he stands and he isn’t fucking this up. Instead, his tongue slides against yours when he presses his lips to yours again, starting a rhythm that has his cock punching deep into your walls, desperate to feel you after hours spent away.

You let him kiss you, especially when his tongue traces your teeth like it always does. It must be his thing. You moan into his mouth, letting his fuck you hard and fast, his hips slamming against your thighs as you shuffle ever so close to falling off of the counter and Max makes you squeal when he grabs your thighs, lifting you up and fucking you on his cock. You squeal and wrap your arms around his neck to stop yourself from falling backwards as he moves your body. “Oh fuck Max.” You moan at this sheer display of his strength.

It’s easy to do, to lift you up as if you weigh nothing. You could do the same to him if you wanted to. It’s the symbolism for him, the way that he can have you any way that he wants to. It’s thrilling. The fact that you let him do whatever he wants and eagerly takes the positions, the pace. You bounce on his cock as he moves you up and down, “fuck, look at that.” He groans, looking between you and watching you take him. Seeing the way your lips stretch around him. “Tell me that’s good, baby. Tell me how much you love my cock.”

You watch him watching his cock disappear inside of you and you moan his name, “it’s so good baby. So good. I love your cock. Love it. Always - always so good. Making me cum every damn day. I love it. Want you to - to fuck me all day every day if we - if we didn’t have to work.”

“Fuck.” Max hisses, closing his eyes and his fangs spring down at the mere thought. “After- after I get this new job I’ll fuck you every- every day.” He huffs, imagining it clearly. You sitting on his cock while he signs contracts, answering his phone with your pants of pleasure in his ear. He would lay you out on his fucking desk like a feast everyday.

In a turn of events, your rival businesses are merging and Max is getting a senior position in a separate department to yours. No longer enemies, you and Max are not competing for sales. It’s strange to not be battling him for contracts. Especially when the merger will mean he will be in your building. “Yes. Yes. Every day. I want you to eat me for lunch.” You demand, kissing his neck as you rock down onto his cock, taking over the pace.

“Fuck yes.” Max whines, holding you in his arms and letting you fuck him. Your thighs squeezing him as you lift and lower yourself. “Best fucking lunch. Better than the interns.” He jokes, toes curling in his shoes as you squeeze him with your inner muscles. “Pour some blood on your pussy and pretend you're on the rag.”

You roll your eyes at his lewd comment but you know that’s just how Max can be. “Fucking weirdo.” You tease, kissing his lips, “you’re such a dick but I- God, I don’t want to stop fucking you. It’s like you’ve got some kind of drug in your cum because I’m addicted to you.” You admit, scaring yourself honestly at how attached you are to him.

Max chuckles, taking over the pace again when you let him. Rocking up onto his toes to grind into you. “Caught me. Been feeding you cocaine laced cum.” He teases, feeling the same way. “Don’t worry baby, gonna - gonna fuck you for as long as you want.” He’s almost said something about doing more than just fucking, but he’s scared you would turn him down so he keeps quiet.

His words send you over the edge, making you cry out as you clamp down on his cock, unable to stop yourself from climaxing as he promises to keep fucking you. He groans at how tight you grip him, keeping you upright as you shake. “Baby.” You gasp, “want - want you to cum down my throat. Let me - let me suck you off.”

He groans, knowing this is special. It’s rare that you don’t want him to cum in your pussy. Not that he minds. He talks a big game about blow jobs but he’s never once asked you for one. If you want to suck his cock, you will. It’s that simple in his mind. Nodding, he sets you down and watches as you wrap your hand around his length, kneeling down in front of him. “Fuck.”

You waste no time in taking him into your mouth with a moan, loving the tangy taste of your own cum coating his cock as you take him down your throat. Another plus of being a vampire: no gag reflex. You look up at him as you take him deep down your throat, loving the way he's watching you.

“Look at you.” He coos, reaching down and stroking your jaw. “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” His eyes roll back and he tilts his head back and moans your name when you press your tongue to the underside of his cock and swallow around the head. “Oh fuck.” He huffs, hips lurching forward to chase that feeling. “So good baby.”

You repeat that action, desperate for him to cum down your throat. You whimper around his cock, reaching down to roll his balls in your fingers, keeping your eyes on him as you watch him moan and groan as you swallow around his thick cock.

“Shiiiit.” Max hisses. “I’m gonna cum.” He warns you. “I’m gonna cum down that pretty little throat of yours. Fuck gonna fill you up, and-“ He tenses up, moaning as he does just that. Pumping spurt after spurt of his cum down your throat.

You eagerly swallow every drop, closing your eyes at the salty taste that doesn’t have that tang that human cum has in it. You swallow until his balls relax under your touch and you pull off of him, cheekily opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out to show him your empty mouth.

“Good girl.” Max lunges down, eager to taste the remnants of his cum from your mouth. Moaning into you while he kisses you. He’s fucked. He realizes it right at this moment. He wants you. Not for some hate fucking, he’s never hated you. But he wants more that just sex.

You kiss him back, letting him pull you into his arms and you realize how dangerous this is getting. It’s no longer hate fucking, it’s turning into something else and you don’t know how to stop it. You do know that Max would break your heart once he gets bored. “I, um, I still need to call Jerry if you - you can take a blood bag to go if you want.” You step away from him, wishing you had a robe or something to cover you, cover your emotions.

Max’s silent heart clenches and he frowns slightly before he nods. “Sure.” He covers up the hurt with a chuckle and sends you a small smirk. “I have to go move into my fancy new office anyway, sweetheart.” He tucks himself away and zips up before straightening his clothes. He can’t help but feel like you are shoving him out the door. “Until next time.”

You watch him go, leaning against the counter and covering your face with your hands. Fuck, when did it happen? When did you fall in love with Max Phillips?

****

Once Max is settled into his office, you must admit you’ve been avoiding him. Deciding that he doesn’t feel the same and you’d only embarrass yourself by asking him such a question, you avoid Max at all costs. Having your assistant screen calls and meetings for the man, you succeed in avoiding him until you hear his name mentioned in the break room. “Yes. He invited me into his office and we…” The intern giggles as she looks around, not seeing you behind the door, “we had sex on his desk.” Your heart sinks, breaking in two at the news that Max has already moved on. You swallow harshly, unshed tears stinging in your eyes as you make your way back to your office.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Phillips. She is in a meeting with orders to not be disturbed.” Max sighs as he listens to your secretary yet again tell him that you aren’t available. The same thing he’s heard from her every day for nearly two weeks. He’s gone from having sex with you every since day to not seeing you and he hates it.

“Yeah, thanks.” He mutters into the phone. “Tell her to call me when she’s done.” He drops the phone into the cradle and sighs. He knows you won’t call him, you haven’t despite the messages to your secretary and the texts to your personal phone. He’s getting desperate to see you and figure out what the hell is going on.

You are working late, unavoidable considering the new contract you’re working on, but you curse your assistant leaving on time when your door opens and Max Phillips strides in unannounced. “Phillips.” You greet him coolly, not even looking up from your computer.

Max blinks at the acidity in your tone and it’s on the tip of his tongue to ask if you’re on your period but he knows that doesn’t happen anymore. Unable to deflect with humor like he usually would, he decides to be upfront. “What the hell is going on?” He demands. “We went from wanting to fuck everyday at lunch once we were in the same building to you ghosting me.”

You bite your lip, wanting to growl at him, but you just respond calmly. “Oh, sorry. I thought you had found a new pretty intern to fuck during lunch and I was no longer needed?” You frown, tilting your head at him.

His brow scrunches in confusion and he shakes his head. “What are you talking about? What intern?” He demands, leaning against the door jam. “Only person I’ve fucked is you and I haven’t been doing a lot of that lately.”

You huff, standing up from your desk, you walk around it to face Max. “Are you serious? I heard her earlier. She said she fucked you in her office and as I walked away she said - she said you traced her teeth with your tongue.” You choke, knowing that is something Max and only Max tends to do.

Now he’s pissed, that she’s lying and that you believe this person. “She must have heard that from someone else I’ve fucked before you.” He growls. “Because I’ve not stuck my dick in anyone but you.” He sees that you don’t believe him and scoffs. “Fucking convenient for you to hear this. If you wanted to stop fucking you don’t have to lie. I don’t fucking force anyone to have sex with me. I don’t need to.”

You shake your head, “it wasn’t - fucking hell. That’s the problem. I didn’t want to stop fucking you. You’re lying about fucking someone else and I shouldn’t be mad because I can’t - we can’t keep doing this. You’ve got me tied up in knots. I can’t focus and I- you need to leave before I change my mind and beg you to fuck me on my desk.”

Max stares at you for a moment in disbelief before he pushes off the door and slowly starts to clap. “Bravo.” He shakes his head, a sarcastic grin on his face. “Amazing, you almost had me. See, I knew it was stupid to fall in love with you, knew I was going to get burned eventually. Especially considering I’ve called you every single day and you’ve been the one rejecting me.” He huffs and drops the smile. “The arctic circle ain’t in your cunt, it’s your icy cold heart. Good luck on the next poor fucker.” He growls, turning on his heel to leave this fucking office and go get drunk somewhere.

“You’re a bastard.” You rush to follow him, lucky that no one is around to witness you as you grab Max and spin him around. “This wasn’t in the plan. I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you.” You rush out, eyes wide as you stare at him. Your heart would be beating out of your chest if you were human but all you can do is stare at him.

Max stares back at you, ready to lash out and deny it. “So if I love you and you love me, why would you think I’d fuck anyone but you?” He demands. “I don’t even know what intern you’re talking about. And I- Jesus, you’re the best lover I’ve ever had. Where could I go after you? No one could ever beat you.”

You swallow harshly at his words, reaching up to cup his cheeks. “I just - I thought you hated me still. I thought it was just sex. I never - I thought you were just fucking me for a release because it’s - it’s the best sex I’ve ever had. No one compares. You are a pain in my ass, but baby, you are strong and smart, so fucking smart, and handsome and you’re funny - even if it’s in a college frat boy kind of way - I just never imagined you’d feel the same way.”

Max chuckles and shakes his head. “I’ve never hated you, sweetheart.” He promises. “I just liked getting under your skin. I liked pissing you off. You’re sexy when you’re annoyed. Like pulling the braids of the girl I like on the playground.” He confesses with a small grin. He steps closer to you, more serious than he’s ever been. “I have not slept with anyone but you since the night we started. I haven’t even looked.”

You believe him, caressing his cheeks, “I love you, Max Phillips.” You whisper, smiling at the cocky bastard who used to make your life hell but now you can’t imagine being without him.

“I love you.” He promises, reaching up to brush his knuckles across your cheeks and he smirks. “Now that we know where we stand, can I fuck you?” He asks, lifting a brow. “I really, really miss being inside you.”

You giggle, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck, “you want to fuck me in my fancy office, Mr. Phillips?” You tease, leaning in to nip his jaw and you are relieved that you are both on the same page.

“I do want to fuck you in your fancy office.” He smirks, his fangs sliding down and he looks behind you. “You have a drop cloth or a sheet of plastic?” He asks. “Might get a little messy.”

You chuckle, “I might have a bedsheet I snuck in just in case we happened to fuck in here.” You take Max’s hand and guide him into your office, letting go of his hand to get the sheet from your bottom desk drawer, laying it out on the sofa in your office.

Max smirks and starts stripping out of his suit while you adjust the sheet. Eager to touch you, his cock is already throbbing. “I’m going to fuck you so hard baby. The security desk is going to think you’re being staked.”

You playfully roll your eyes at his cocky words but you know he can make you squeal and scream. You finish adjusting the sheet and struggle to pull down the zipper of your dress as Max kicks off his shoes and shoves his pants and boxers down.

“Too slow sweetheart.” Max tuts, taking over and dragging the zipper down and peeling the dress off of you in the blink of an eye. “Fuck, I love stripping you down. You should stay naked all the time.”

You sigh when Max kisses your neck and shoulder as you kick the dress aside, stepping out of your heels and you spin around to face Max. Pressing your lips to his, you press your chest to his and tangle your fingers in his hair. “Fuck me Max.” You plead, feeling his hard cock pressing into your hip.

“I’m going to.” He promises, happy that you are in his arms again. His tongue trails over your neck and he can’t help himself, sinking his teeth into your flesh while he grabs your ass and hauls you back towards the couch.

You look up at Max as he lays you down on the sofa and you caress his chest, over the space where his heart would be beating. “I love you.” You murmur, spreading your legs to accommodate him as you continue caressing his chest.

He hums, loving hearing you say that. “Love you too.” He groans, sliding his hand between the two of you so he can line up to push inside you. The head of his cock slips inside your cunt as he ducks down to take your nipple into his mouth.

You moan when he pushes into you, feeling like you’re finally home, where you should be. With him. “Max.” You moan, tangling your fingers in his hair as he bites down on your breast and he starts to rock his hips, pushing into you. It’s slow, unlike the always frantic pace, and you sigh in pleasure.

He’s never set a slow pace with you, knowing that he had to make sure you had the most pleasure he could offer within an hour or two. Now he takes his time, he’ll spend all night right here if he has to. Wanting to drag it out for as long as he can. Enjoying the slow drag of his cock in and out of your walls while he works his hip.

“Fuck. That feels good.” You moan, caressing his back as he rocks into you. You whimper when he hits something deep and slowly fucks you. No, he doesn’t fuck you. He makes love to you. “God, you feel so good. No one has ever felt like this.”

Max groans in agreement. He reaches for your hand and laces his fingers with yours. “Bite me.” He begs, wanting to feel your fangs in his flesh. You’ve never bitten him before but he thinks it’s hot to have you do it while he’s buried in your cunt.

You squeeze his hand and feel your fangs appear so you cup the back of his head, pulling him closer so you can sink your fangs into his flesh. There’s no blood but you moan at the sensation of his cock inside of you and your fangs in his neck. It’s incredible and you moan into his flesh as he rocks into you.

“Fuck.” Max groans loudly, cock twitching deep inside you but he doesn’t push harder or faster into you. Keeping his pace slow and steady, while he love the feeling of your fangs breaking through his skin. “Again baby, fuck, mark me as yours.”

You repeat the action, allowing yourself to dive into your instincts, your animalistic ways shining through as you bite him, marking him as yours. The marks will stay, a shimmering scar once they heal over - as soon as your fangs are removed - and you are close to cumming at the thought of Max being yours and only yours.

Max grunts, closing his eyes and smirking as he continues to rock into you. “Love you, so fucking much.” He groans out. “Perfect vampire for me, perfect woman, perfect little pussy.”

You lick over the marks after withdrawing your fangs. “I love you baby. So much. God, you are - you’re an asshole but you’re my asshole. I wouldn’t change you for all the sales in the world. Perfect for me.” You pant, getting closer and closer with every slow rock of his hips until finally, you fall over the edge and clamp down on his cock. Your orgasm is slow, seeming to spread to every inch of your body.

Max buries his fangs in your neck as you come apart for him. Your walls clamp down like a vice around him, soaking him in your release. He loves the way you cry his name, needy and loving. “Love you,” he pants, withdrawing his fangs and pressing his lips to yours when he starts to cum, filling you with his own release in agonizing pleasure.

You cling to him as he cums, filling you up and you’ve missed this so much, missed him so much. You peck his lips over and over as he rides out his orgasm and you caress his shoulders and back. “Love you.” You murmur, actually feeling tired.

Max kisses your jaw when you tilt your head back. “Not as much as I love you.”

You snort, “always in competition.” You love him and he loves you. Never, in a million years, would you have imagined that if you’d been asked four months ago but here you are. In love with a blood sucking bastard

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