#I could dim their damn faces so it’s too bright and shit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shotmrmiller · 1 month

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johnny dates your friend and then asks her if she's got any friends (you) for his friend (simon). but simon freaks you out. he can't hold a conversation— or won't, you're not sure; you're lucky if you get monosyllabic grunts out of him as if he were a neanderthal. the only times you've seriously heard him talk is to bark out words at either johnny or the bartender.

he walks around with a poorly concealed weapon on his hip, almost like he is expecting trouble. he wears all black, which is completely fine, but then a skull balaclava that he refuses to take off, even to drink his liquor. you don't try to hide the grimace on your face when you watch him sip through the thick fabric. he's got skeleton gloves on his hands too, like some sort of shit cosplay to match his mask.

and he fucking stares, unashamedly so. it is unblinking, scrutinizing, intense— his dark eyes, pools of midnight, keen. he stares at the people walking in through the door, stares at johnny when he takes your friend to the dance floor, and when you tell him out of courtesy that you're going to go get another drink, you can feel him boring holes into the back of your head as you walk away, piercing flesh and bone.

the phantom fingers of his gaze trace icy paths along your spine, erupting your skin in goosebumps. you find him immensely creepy, and you thank the fucking stars you're only here as a favor for your friend. you don't think you want to do this again. he's either a wanted serial killer or just a goddamn freak.

a heavy arm wraps around your shoulders once you're at the bar, and with a sneer on your lips, you turn to the owner of said offending limb, only to come face to face with johnny. he leans into you, close enough to where you can feel his stubble grazing the shell of your ear. (back up, brother.)

"listen, bonnie!" you wince; it's really not that loud in here for him to be yelling like that. "ah ken, ghos— er, simon, might no' be yer average man. he can be a little off-puttin'—" a little? if he doesn't follow you home and skin you alive, you'd be incredibly fortunate— "but ah promise ye, while he may no' be boyfriend material, he's an incredible fuck."

excuse me? he's got to be positively pissed. "maybe you should slow down, yeah? you might already be three sheets to the wind if you're gassing up your unsettling friend's cock. no offense."

"naw! ah'm tellin' ye. long ago, we had a mission tha' ran everyone tight, 'n so we relieved tension the only way we could— big, strong guy like him had me limpin' for a few days after."

you're about to ask for an angel shot because there is no way in hell that your friend's boyfriend is making casual conversation about him getting absolutely railed by—

"give 'em a try. jus' the once, i swear he don't bite," johnny pauses-- the rosy flush on his nose and cheeks vibrant, "unless ye ask nicely. yer friend said ye needed to get laid, anyways." oh, you're gonna fucking kill her, that long-tongued cretin.

"right!" you drink the remainder of your cocktail in one big gulp, liquid warmth trailing down your throat, before not-so-kindly shrugging him off. "i'm gonna go, you, uh— we didn't have this conversation, for the sake of my friend." you gesture at the bartender. "one more, please. i'm gonna need it."

damn. now johnny's got you thinking about getting your back broken by simon. maybe you really are just down horrendously, or maybe it's the alcohol in your system that has decided to toss all self-preservation out the metaphorical window because now you can't stop noticing him.

he's real tall— enough to have him slightly tipping his head to walk through a doorway. his shoulders are mountainous, his hands the size of a bear's paw. his physicality is undoubtedly impressive and well, you've always been weak to burly, commanding men.

you make eye contact with johnny from across the room, his bright blue eyes alive under the dim light of the dingy bar, and the bastard shifts his gaze from simon to you, giving a cheeky wink.

lifting your glass, you drink the last of your liquid courage— the taste of it bittersweet. it has been a long time since you've gotten laid.

double damn.

"hey." you lean slightly toward simon, cupping your hand around your mouth. "you and i both know why we're here. take me home?" the way he looks at you has you shifting restlessly in your seat. did you perhaps make a mistake? oh, fuck. did you just throw yourself cunt-first at someone who is not interested? your face burns with embarrassment, heat licking up your cheeks. maybe the earth will split open, right here ri—

"let's go then." oh thank fucking god. you don't know what you would've done if he'd said no. shrivel up and die, probably. "uber'll be here in 4."

when it arrives, he places his leather jacket around your shoulders, cocooning you in its warmth— the heady scent of nicotine clings to the garment— and leads you outside with a hand on the small of your back.

the world outside the car blurs into a hazy painting as the driver navigates the streets. colors blend together, once sharp outlines now dissolved. the rain gently taps on the window, a soothing sound that could easily lull you to sleep until you start when a roughened palm suddenly glides along your thigh— fingers slowly tracing intimate patterns on your skin.

simon's hand is hot, and it only burns hotter the closer it gets to your center under your least favorite skirt. he cannot be serious right now. you place your hand over his, short nails biting into him because there is no way you're about to be fingered in an uber—

his voice is deep, a deliciously thick rumble, right by your ear. "nice kitty." you've never been one for pet names or anything else for that matter, but the pulse of arousal that shoots up your spine has a shaky exhale leaving your lips, a ghostly breath fogging up the window.

the tips of his fingers tease the seam of your knickers, a generic cotton fabric that clings to your dampening cunt like a second skin— desire trickling onto the gusset. your whimper is drowned out by the terrible music the driver is currently playing when his small finger grazes over your slit, featherlight.

"so wet already? i've barely even touched ya, love." again with the cunt-clenching nicknames. he has no business purring them out like that. "i can smell your sweet pussy from here. you really must be achin' for it." of course the time he chooses to be vocal, it's to spew filth. "don't worry, i'll treat ya good."

somehow, you actually manage to choke out a response. "i'm sure. johnny-" you hiss through clenched teeth when he slips under your knickers, a finger brushing along your slick entrance, "said you had him walking side to side once." you buck your hips, seeking the friction you need, but it only makes him pull away a bit; how unsurprisingly cruel.

"only because he was bein' a brat. you're not a brat though, are ya? gonna be good f'me?" your tongue is heavy in your mouth, words lodged in your throat— all you can give him is a slight nod. "i expect verbal answers. i'd hate to spank your arse raw. how would ya sit down after?"

the idea of being bent over his strong thighs, face pressed into his couch as his firm hand takes you into the needy subspace you crave is too much, or maybe not enough because you're tucking your face into the side of his neck in an instant. "please," you warble, unsure of what you're even begging for.

he curls his finger, slipping between your lips, and when he finally brushes your clit— a fleeting, tantalizing touch— your eyes threaten to roll into the back of your head. "needy little thing. i bet there's a damp spot right where you're sittin'. drippin' all over my fingers—" your breath is ripped from your lungs when he abruptly pulls his hand out and away, the sodden material of your knickers snapping against your heated skin. you're about to snarl out a vicious what the fuck, but the once-blurred scenery outside sharpens into focus.

the driver parks and looks at you from the rearview mirror. "we're here." you mumble a muted thank you, stepping out with quivering legs and a drenched cunt. a crisp breeze dances across your skin, a refreshing contrast to the stifling heat from inside the car.

as soon as the car drives off, you're hoisted onto a broad shoulder. the world tilts, and you fist the back of simon's shirt for stability. "highly unnecessary. i can wa—" you let out a squeak when he slaps the back of your thigh, the sharp bite of it sending a jolt straight to your throbbing center.

"hush."

you sputter indignantly as you hold on tighter, breaths coming out in short gasps, syncing with each step. "i beg your pardon?"

you yelp when he gives you another slap, this time closer to your cunt. "then beg." you're rendered speechless.

wow. maybe you've actually bitten off more than you can chew.

the wet cement under you is a blur, the texture lost in the rush of his movements until he comes to a stop, and you hear a familiar jingle of keys. he bursts through the door, the hinges groaning in protest, and you're staggeringly planted on both feet.

"nice place." a lie. it looks unlived in— brand spanking new. you vaguely hear the lock behind you as you take in your surroundings. a perfect, leather couch, not a crease in sight. the rug under it is pristine and bland, a cream color that matches the rest of his flat. impersonal. not an ounce of real personality anywhere. you begin shrugging off his jacket when you're suddenly pressed against the cold door, simon bent at the knees in front of you, his dark eyes— sharp as blades— lock onto yours.

"gonna beg?"

the fire in your lower belly reignites at the sight of his unmasked face. ash-brown hair in a simple crew cut, thick brows with the right one bisected by a pink, gnarled scar. slightly crooked nose, broken one too many times, and thin, pale lips. a countenance to match his rugged personality.

you're pulled out of your thoughts when he licks a hot stripe over your covered slit and you mewl at the sensation. "i asked you a question."

the words rush out of your mouth before you can even think of stopping them. "yes, yes! please, god, i don't- just- please let me come! i-" his thumbs hook into the waistband of your knickers and tug them down slowly, strings of arousal sticking to the gusset, smearing on your inner thighs.

"alrigh', since ya begged so prettily." your vision goes white when he throws one leg over his shoulder, and his slick tongue slides through your folds, the tip flicking your clit lightly. he laps at your cunt like it drips milk and honey— nourishing and sweet. simon groans into you, the sound crawling up your vertebrae and into the base of your skull.

he begins to draw lazy circles around your pearl, every swirl of his tongue has your back bowing as if winding it, inching you closer to the precipice. your toes curl in your shoes, hands finding purchase in his coarse hair, knuckles staining white as you start the feel the familiar tightening in your lower belly.

and then he pushes one thick finger into you, down to the scarred knuckle, and crooks it. the squelching noise your dripping pussy makes when he presses on the tiny patch of rough skin inside is loud and obscene; practically echoing off the dull, ivory walls of his flat.

"gonna come f'me? make a mess all over my hand?" simon adds another finger, a slight burn nipping at the heels of the pleasure coiling under your navel.

"c'mon. give it to me, pet." his lips encircle your clit, giving it a light suckle and it's—

the coil snaps, a sudden release of tension. it is violent and oh, so exquisite. white noise in your head, your ears, coursing through your veins. it prickles, it stings; it's pleasure and pain. your soul sinks back into your body— like a feather returning to its nest— and you blink, momentarily unbalanced.

"ya with me?"

you breathe deep— the taste of salt in the air, the scent of sweat-slick skin, your heart pulsing with life. "yes. i'm here." the man took you to the stars and laid you on them. jesus.

"good." the room spins, and you're weightless, nestled in his arms. it'd seem innocent if it wasn't for the stickiness in between your thighs, or the prominent bulge in his jeans occasionally pressing into your arse.

simon kicks a door open, knob bouncing off the wall with a crack, and quickly places you on the bed before tugging his shirt off. the belt and jeans come off next, and—

"you don't wear pants." why would he let that monstrosity just hang like that?

"good observation. is water still wet?" he asks, tonelessly. you narrow your eyes at him, pushing your tongue against the back of your teeth.

"fuck me for having eyes and using them as intended, i guess," you mumble under your breath. he grabs you by the ankle and tugs the skirt off, then your shoes, "ouch, i like my feet where they are, thank you," and literally rips your shirt in half. "you'll be giving me on of yours before i leave as recompense."

he holds himself up with his arms over you, your thighs burning as they cradle his hips.

his cock is a heavy, hot weight on your stomach— ruddy, leaking tip right under your navel. you're not small by any means, but he's going to tear you in half. there's no surviving such an onslaught. he's not just leaving you with a limp, he's going to turn your two smaller holes into one big one.

he tears into a golden wrapper with his teeth, and expertly rolls the condom on. simon lowers down to his elbows and nudges your jaw with his nose. "i'll stop the moment ya call it. tap on me if you're feelin' overwhelmed."

that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to you, and the fact that it comes from a massive creep who stares at people like they owe him money has you a bit dumbstruck.

his stubble grazes the side of your neck as he glides his cock along your slick folds; once, thrice, until the head catches on your swollen entrance. simon pushes in slow, agonizingly slow— you don't know if it's better or worse because you feel every devastating inch of his length as it forcibly wrenches your walls apart.

your senses are solely focused on him: his body enveloping yours completely. his breath, sweetened like malt, wafts gently across your skin. his thick waist that you can't fully wrap your legs around. everything about him is big— his physicality, his presence, his cock.

"take a deep breath for me, pet. feel everythin' i'm givin' you."

your lungs expand as you do, and when you exhale, your muscles slacken. rapturous pleasure begins to bleed through the delicate membrane that separates it from the bite of pain, until boundaries are blurred and—

and he sinks into you like a rock breaking the surface tension of still water, bottoming out in one, smooth stroke. you can't help the mewl that falls from your lips nor the way your walls clamp down around him.

"fuck, there it is. so bloody tight, this greedy cunt is takin' my cock like it was made for me."

there isn't a single coherent thought in your head and you're glad for it. finally, someone to fuck you stupid.

simon gives you an experimental thrust, dragging his length along every single one of your nerves, and then another— desire overflowing from where he stuffs you to the very brim. "good. ready?"

he takes your tiny nod as an answer this time and begins to fuck you in earnest. it takes everything in you to not black out from how perfect it felt.

simon puts his weight behind every thrust, a steady pull out, and a spine-jarring push in. you can feel him deep in your stomach, a delicious pinch of discomfort each time he presses against the plug of your womb.

"so fuckin' wet, your cunt's droolin' all over me." he hooks an arm under your left leg and lifts, the angle he's put you in tittering dangerously on the tightrope of rapture and ache.

it's so good, so fucking good, your slick walls fluttering as he carves himself into you, your soul, your cunt when you feel a tight snap inside.

simon pulls out in an instant, taking your breath with him as he does. you look down at his cock and notice that—

"the condom broke. i've got another in the drawer, gimme a sec."

there is some weird thing that lodges in place somewhere deep in your sternum when you realize that he's been nothing but considerate and attentive to you since he brought you home and hasn't fussed over anything once. it's an extremely low bar, you are aware. rewarding what should be the bare fucking minimum is sad, but you're not completely altruistic in your motives anyway. you want to feel his bare cock inside as he rearranges your insides.

"no!" he quickly turns to look at you, "no. it's okay. i'm clean and i'm also on the pill. if that's okay with you, of course."

a man his stature should not move as fast as he just did, blinking from one side of the room to the other. he quickly throws both of your legs over his shoulders, heels resting on his back when he sinks back in, this time letting out a guttural groan as he does.

you can feel the ridge of his flared head, the warmth of his cock seeping into your tender walls— a new level of intimacy. he fucks you with fervor now, a precise snap of his hips that has your teeth clacking with every thrust.

your climax takes you by complete surprise, crashing into you like waves on a rocky, jagged shore. burst after burst of blinding pleasure threatens to consume you whole, and when your limbs are loose and syrupy— body limp— only then do you realize that he came just as fast. thick white ropes of viscous spend cover your stomach and trail down to your abused cunt.

your hamstrings already hurt with delayed onset muscle soreness. you might actually need a wheelchair to go back home.

(thank god your hips held out, and no, you don't care that it's essentially sacrilegious of you to even think that.)

his breathing comes out in ragged bursts, beads of sweat dripping onto the valley of your breasts.

and he's back to the fucking staring. "simon."

"pet."

"please stop looking at me like that."

he huffs and dips his head to flick your hardened nipple with his tongue, making you hiss with over sensitivity.

"make me."

as dawn breaks, the world begins to stir awake. hues of pale pink stain the sky, the first blush of morning. light and shadow begin to blend in the bedroom.

your phone vibrates under the pillow, simon's arm tightening around your soft waist at the buzzing sound. his lips press a light kiss on the sensitive skin by your ear, and his large hand begins to weave its way downward, pads of his fingers gathering the evidence of last night (or early morning) and gently parts your folds, brushing light strokes on your clit.

when he places your leg around his hip and sinks into you from behind, your phone buzzes again-- alone and forgotten.

good morning!!! i expect a full, detailed report by lunch or so help you god.

sent 5:30 am

about time you got laid, you're not you when you're horny.

sent 5:49 am

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon ghost riley smut #cod smut #simon ghost riley x f reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader

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rosie-writings · 3 months

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Hypnotize Me

Summary: You and the gang investigate a hotel haunted by a demon that influences people in ways none of you experienced before, making it the final push for Colby to solidify the relationship he always wanted with you.

Warnings: Colby x Reader smut, MFM (no Solby) threesome, unprotected sex, overstimulation, love bites, squirting, messy sex

Words: 7.6k

No Y/N Used

Title is from ‘Hypnosis’ by Sleep Token

I was so damn tired.

The backpack met the thin floor with a thud that hung in the air. My eyes were too heavy to open fully, and maybe I led us all into the most haunted room—of course the largest suite as well—in the hotel, but I really couldn't care less.

“Oh—Wait this is actually nice,” Colby spoke first between the five of us. He brushed past me and walked into the room to our left.

”Wow it actually is,” I think Nate said as he rounded the corner. I don’t think my toes lifted off the roughened carpet as I dragged myself through the unrealistically large suite to find the bedroom. When I found it, I audibly moaned in relief.

”Holy shit! Maybe we didn’t need the second room, this bed is probably big enough to fit all of us.” Sam must have followed me with the camera but I ignored him as I face planted into the ivory linen sheets. They covered my peripherals, and my eyes rolled back in the suffocating darkness.

It was worth not checking for stains or bed bugs first.

Then there was a loud scuffle.

“Ah—! Jesus, I almost met god because of your backpack in the middle of the floor.” I huffed a breath in response; Colby must have tossed the backpack to the side of the bed but I didn’t flinch from the reverberation. Didn’t care that my laptop was in there at all.

Maybe I needed a shower; after two sleepless nights in a cold dangerous area proceeding a haunted hot as hell area, a shower and a dreamless night in the deepest cavern of this bed was first on my priority list.

Of course the boys had different plans. We were in the middle of our third video of the week. Thank god it was the last as well.

Between infiltrating an abandoned building outside of Portland to talking to whatever lurks in the woods of a small town somewhere in Texas, I was beat. Road kill, some would say, and dare I say I looked like it too. My hair was a mess and my nose was still red from the cold wind in the north but my neck was caked with old sweat from the humid heat of the faux winter in Texas. At least I could hear it in all of their voices too; this quickly became a midnight hunt rather than an afternoon hunt. If only we could get through this damn intro.

”—here she is, she's uh well—tired.” I lifted my head up slowly and looked up to see the camera and Sam’s tired eyes smiling down at me. “Don’t blame her; at least we all feel the way she looks.”

I flipped him off before he turned the camera towards himself.

”That was mean,” he laughed. I stuffed my face back in the now damp with sweat and hot breath duvet. “But fair. We’re going to rest this afternoon and after dinner, we have a meeting with one of the most skilled demonologists we’ve ever met.”

”Yeah, I’m pretty sure we’ve met one in every country we’ve filmed in,” Colby tagged on as I heard him approach Sam.

”Pretty soon we’ll be able to say we’ve met every demonologist—“

I don’t remember what the ending of Sam’s sentence entailed.

My eyes opened.

The room was dark besides the ambient orange light from the lamp beside the head of the bed. The curtains were shut. What time was it?

I lifted to my elbows but drew in a breath when I felt weight fall from me. I looked to my left and noticed how Colby rolled from his side to his back; his face turned away from me. He was knocked out. Was his arm across me as we slept?

Two nights ago I woke up in the middle of the night in the same situation except two bright eyes stared back at me. Even in the dim moonlight that shined through the broken ceiling of the abandoned building, his eyes glowed bright back at me. I told myself the only reason I fell back asleep in his arms was because I shivered my skin off from the chill. I felt his body shake as well which meant it must have been cold even with the sleeping bags. I would be lying if I said I hadn’t been daydreaming about what his hands felt like on my back and what the warmth of his neck felt like on my face, my lips.

As I stretched on the bed and yawned as quietly as I could, I looked to my other side and I nearly choked myself half to death when Sam jumpscared me. He as well lay on his front with his head supported on his crossed arms. I didn’t know how I didn’t feel his side flush to mine. We slept in almost the same position.

My face burned when I pulled my leg off of Colby’s.

I slid backwards off the bed and popped my neck; my body ached from sleep uncomfortably. I was ready for a real sleep. Although, that nap did fare well. Nate slept on the other side of Sam and I smiled at the sight of his arm and leg wrapped around Sam’s body.

I snapped photos of them. For blackmail. Or, at this point, pure entertainment.

I grabbed my bag and headed into the bathroom. I held my breath for some reason as I turned on the light and nothing happened. It always crossed my mind that maybe—just maybe—everything was a lie and hauntings weren’t real because of evenings like this one. We all were zonked on the bed—aside for poor Seth who coiled up on one of them sofas in the main room across from the bedroom—and not a thing happened.

Then again I'm sure I could have time traveled during that nap and I wouldn't have known a thing.

The warm water almost lulled me to sleep then and there, but the chilly tiles kept a pep in my step. I wished I had this room to myself. I imagined it then; kicking the boys to the floor so I could have the largest bed I had ever seen all to my clean self.

I didn't do that.

By the time I was finished blow drying my hair and making myself as presentable as possible for the camera while keeping my future bed time routine simple, I heard commotion in the rest of the suite. I pulled a new pair of black jeans from my bag and pulled on a thermal long sleeve and a hoodie on top of it with rushing hands. What was the plan now?

“Yeah man, I have no idea.” I only caught the end of Colby’s gentle statement when I opened the door. His eyes found mine and I watched intently to find out what they were saying.

”Seth is still asleep,” he said.

”And Sam wants to be,” Sam spoke into Nate’s side. He held onto Nate and tried to curl into him comfortably, but Nate scooted away with every advance Sam made. I scoffed a laugh as I passed the pathetic three on the bed.

”And Nate wants to get this show on the road or else he won’t ever get up from this bed. Jesus, it’s damn comfortable.”

”It really is though,” Colby said.

”I don’t think the nap did anything for me even though it was really nice,” I admitted. Colby aimed his attention at me as I dropped my bags under the covered window on the side of the bed he sat on.

”Yeah, I’m really tired still as well.”

“Let’s get energy drinks and some food before we miss the meeting,” Sam said as he too yawned and stretched.

”Someone wake up Seth.”

”Oh right,” Nate laughed as he got up to do just that. “Can’t forget poor sleeping Seth.”

”He looks so cold,” Sam laughed.

”Not as cold as two nights ago.”

”Don’t remind me,” he moaned.

“We’re here with Dr. Smith; the renowned demonologist who’s especially familiar with all of the paranormal activity that’s happened here at this hotel,” Sam spoke to the camera.

As much as dinner was amazing fuel, as soon as we got back into the lobby of the hotel and started the meeting with Dr. Smith, my eyelids were heavy again. Sure, we missed two nights of restful sleep, but how tired was too tired?

A subtle flinch on my hand yanked my attention from the interview, and my eyes met Colby’s whose eyebrows rose with question. ‘I’m good,’ I nodded. ‘Tired,’ I mouthed and he nodded heavily with his eyes closed. His eyes were darker than I had seen them, and when I looked back in Nate’s direction, I noticed the distraction in his eyes.

Were we all truly this spent? We all had taken many trips with Sam and Colby through the years, and almost every week was filled with three or four high adrenaline videos to get done. The traveling mixed with the paranormal adrenaline and the unrestful sleep promised hazy days and many many energy drinks, but this? This was different.

”Seth—“ My attention was pulled by Sam’s voice.

”Shit I’m sorr—“

”It’s fine,” Dr. Smith said. “If you all don’t know, the main issue visitors have dealt with in this hotel is fatigue.” My stomach dropped. “The souls that make pit stops here often get trapped and are weary from living in purgatory in these walls.” Somehow a burst of energy coursed my veins at this insight; at least my suspicions weren’t too outlandish.

”This makes a lot of sense,” Colby sighed.

“We’re outrageously tired and took a three hour nap,” Sam laughed. Dr. Smith nodded.

”If it’s already affecting all of you this much, you might want to be careful when you go to the third floor then; people are known to pass out very frequently because of—well the things that live there.”

”Why—What’s on the third floor and why does it make people pass out?”

”We believe there is a demon who stays in this hotel, specifically the third floor, and it influences the spirits and human people who come. It doesn’t like to be alone, but it also doesn’t enjoy the company of people so it depletes energy quickly.”

”Almost like an omen for them to leave?” Sam questioned.

”Maybe,” Dr. Smith said as his head fell to the side with some disagreement.

”Or is it more so wanting something to do, like, does it enjoy messing with people or something?”

“I think that’s the case,” he responded as he pointed to Colby. “It might be bored and it may want human energy to feed on and manipulate.”

The way that Dr. Smith expressed the demon’s wants sent chills down my arms and it felt like hot air held my ears. Maybe this would be a long night, and maybe some decent activity would come of it.

Hopefully all this fatigue wasn’t for nothing.

”I’m still on edge about all of… this,” Seth said as his hands gestured to everything around us. We walked through the hotel with quiet voices and the camera filming on Sam’s side.

”Same, but what are you feeling?” Colby asked.

”I’m freaked out about how we all are equally feeling the demon’s effect already and we haven’t even tried to taunt it or anything.”

”I mean, it could just be because of our trip,” Nate spoke. The voice of reason. “We barely slept.”

”Yeah but all of us took long naps and we all feel like zombies even after the drinks.” No one argued that.

As we walked and talked and introduced the hotel to the camera, Colby made sure to keep up with my pace. I couldn’t decipher whether I imagined it or I was the one keeping up with him, but for some reason, all my attention honed in on him and his body and every motion it made.

And when we turned the corner and Sam quickly stopped in front of me, I halted in my steps and Colby’s body collided into mine. I held my breath so I wouldn’t gasp; we all were quiet. Seth had heard something and Sam whispered to the camera.

I backed up into him tighter when his hands that held onto my waist dug in deeper. His breath skipped some and he let go of me and passed me with a raised whisper when Sam asked him something. It took me a moment. A dazed moment. My tired brain was so overwhelmed with everything that suddenly I felt intoxicated. Intoxicated by the fatigue, intoxicated by the lack of effected air conditioning, intoxicated by Colby who seemed to also be unable to stop touching me and thinking about me—

What was going on?

I lagged behind the boys as they walked down the hallway. Colby turned to me. His eyes were dilated, face flushed, hand reached back towards me.

”Come on, don’t fall behind,” he whispered. I took his hand and didn’t say anything because I swore my heart replaced my vocal cords in my throat.

Even as it got hotter when we ventured to the second floor and even as the sheen of sweat in between our palms became more so a dripping pool, I didn’t let go of him. And he didn’t let go of me.

“Are you okay?” He whispered down to me. I nodded slowly.

”Yeah, just hot as fuck.”

”Are you good?” Sam’s louder voice caught my attention and I looked up. Nate spoke animatedly to Seth with a hand pointed down the hall and Sam had turned towards us. The camera was to his side.

”Yeah,” Colby answered for me. “We—It’s hot as hell and can barely stay awake.”

”I know,” Sam sighed breathlessly. Sweat too lined his face. “Dr. Smith did say that they have perpetual issues with the AC on the third floor, and even during the winter it gets this hot.”

”Couldn’t imagine the summer here,” Nate said as he spun into our conversation.

”I’m really wanting to get to the third floor to test some things out.”

”Like the Estes method?” Seth asked. Sam nodded quickly.

We were on our way and my heart burned in my chest. I gripped Colby’s hand tighter as my head rushed with more elevation. The elevator was slow but my pace was slower, and the fatigue gnawed at my bones.

”You’re not going to pass out are you?”

”No,” I shook my head. “I mean not yet at least.”

”Don’t worry,” Sam said. “We’ll catch you.”

”Shut the hell up,” I snapped as the elevator doors opened. Nate led the way. “Of all of us, I trust you to purposely miss me.”

”Yeah that’s only because Colby would have caught you before you even started to fall—“

Seth’s spiteful jeer was cut off by a loud bang at the end of the hallway. Sam and Nate rushed forward around the corner with the camera.

“There’s literally nothing,” I heard Sam’s whisper. I ignored the smirk on Seth’s face as he gave a look to Colby. We three turned the corner as well.

Nothing. An average looking empty hotel room shined back at us. Not even a member of housekeeping nor their supplies showed any kind of appearance.

“We’re in a hotel for fuck’s sake,” I whisper. “It could be a damn guest.”

”True,” Nate said. We slowly walked backwards.

”Alright,” Sam started and lifted the camera. Real filming time. “The demon’s known to be most responsive in the conference room on the third floor, which is where we’re headed.”

”Yeah because for some reason this demon has a lot of business to get done,” Seth said. We all looked at him. I burst out with one singular laugh and slapped my knee.

”Good one.”

The conference room was larger than I anticipated and dark and musty. We left the lights off and turned on all our flashlights and faced them towards the ceiling to give more of an expansive ambient light. As Colby set up the rem pod, I held an emf device and Sam prepared Seth to go under on the Estes method. For as empty as this room appeared to be, it sure as hell felt full.

Tables lined the back wall while chairs were stacked near them. A few stragglers of chairs peppered the room but other than that, only two gigantic crystal chandeliers decorated the room other than the hardly touched plush carpet with intricate designs.

The heat around my face didn’t get better. Only worse. I could hardly breathe. My vision was hazy and it was as if the air suddenly had a film of white air over taking the much needed oxygen. I decided that I was just crazy and sleep deprived when none of the guys complained about it.

”If there’s a spirit in here, let us know by coming close to one of our devices,” Sam started. His voice echoed around the room. “If you would like to speak with us you can do so by touching these devices,” he pointed to the rem pod and emf. “Or you can send words into this and it will read them back to us—“

Present

My heart stopped at the shrill of the ovilus.

”Thank you so much, I’m Sam, these are my friends—“ We each said our names. “We’re just here to talk and nothing more. Can we ask you some questions?”

”The rem pod—“ Colby rushed out. We all looked at the brightness of its lights. The rem pod never seemed so bright and loud to me than at that moment.

”Yeah that’s the rem pod it’s pretty intense,” Sam said. ”How many of you are there?”

Full

”The ovilus said full—

Meeting

”Does this mean a meeting full of spirits are here?” Sam asked. The rem pod stopped.

”If you have a lot to say and would like to talk to Seth in the spirit box, then move back to that—“

The rem pod went off again and stayed on

Sam turned to us with wide eyes and I stared back at him unblinking.

”Get—Alright Seth get on the spirit box,” Colby told him.

Seth sat in the chair blindfolded and he set the headphones on his head. The moment he went under I too felt a rush of dizziness.

”Hey—“ Colby grabbed my hand. “You good?”

”The energy drink must be making me jittery or something,” I said. “I’m so damn tired like I can’t keep my eyes open but I’m faster.” He nodded with a slight grin.

”Hopefully it’s just that—“

”Sam,” Seth spoke in a monotone voice.

”Hi, yeah that’s me. Who am I talking to, what’s your name?”

”Many.”

”There’s many of you, aren’t there? Are you all trapped here?” Sam must have been referencing Dr. Smith who said that the spirits here are trapped in purgatory.

”Not likely.” Seth’s voice twisted in my chest like a knife; I didn’t know what it was but I couldn’t breathe and the tone in his voice told me something different.

”Is there a way for you all to leave?”

”There was just—just a noise I think a sigh? Or a laugh? I don’t know— Irrational.” Sam’s head cocked to the side at the obscure word the spirit box tagged on to Seth’s description of the sound.

”What’s irrational?”

”Maybe it’s saying we’re irrational to think they are trapped,” Colby told him.

”Probably. Do you like staying here?”

“Feeding.” Seth's single word alone sent chills across your arms as if it didn't push 90 degrees in the room.

“Are you feeding on energies? I know a lot of people stay here—”

“Love it when you… I didn't catch the rest.”

“You love feeding on the energies or something?” Sam's patient tone never ceased to shock and impress me. The way he so confidently handled the discussion was something entirely beyond my capabilities. If whatever this was fed on any energy at all, it must have been mine because as my fear increased the remaining ounce of my energy decreased.

“Dr. Smith was talking about how this was like a super busy place for humans and spirits, and it's easy for them to get trapped since the supposed demon loved stealing the energy—” Colby spoke before Seth interrupted him.

“You bet, you bet I do—No for real guys that's what it said before a laugh. I'm shaking,” Seth rushed. Colby shot a glance at Sam the same time Sam turned to him.

“Why do you stay here and take the energy—”

“It—” Seth laughed as his cheeks blushed pink. “It's literally just a girl moaning.”

“Moaning? What the fuck?” Sam whispered back at Colby.

“Do you like to trick people here? Are you bored or something so you feed off their energy for entertainment?” Colby asked.

“I love it, I love it, I love—So stupid.” My head turned to the side in confusion; what the hell did that mean?

“Are you calling us stupid because we don't understand?” Sam asked.

For some reason I raised my voice next.

“Or are you calling the people you play with stupid—”

“Fucking bitch.”

“What the fuck,” Sam gasped as he looked at me.

“Damn sorry for speaking,” I laughed.

“You will be.” The boys gasped and looked at me as I stared at a completely oblivious Seth who still rocked back and forth in time with the jumping channels in his headphones.

“That's—That’s a threat,” Colby raised his voice. He took a step in front of me.

“You can't touch us or mess with us, you und—”

“Too late.”

“Too late as in too late because we’re all tired?” Nate asked.

“Yeah maybe it's already influenced us like Dr. Smith—” It cut Colby off.

“You'll feel it. Can't you?”

“Yeah we're pretty tired,” Sam replied, still somehow patient and confident. “Is that you making us tired?”

“Even more than.”

“More than what? You're making us more tired than usual?”

“Idiot.” Sam took a step back with a laugh.

“I'm tired of getting roasted by a demon,” he laughed. I wanted to laugh with them, but the fire started at my knees. Yes, it was hot in the room, but a particular ache that I wished was new spread lower than it typically did.

It was hot. And I wasn't just sweating.

“What’s your name?” Colby spoke up that time.

“It's my pleasure.”

“What does that mean?” Sam asked in our direction. Colby shook his head. I stared intently at Seth still as if I couldn't look away. The fairness of his skin drew me in and it took a full seven more seconds until I realized the fire in my legs raised to my mid thigh and even higher.

I ached.

“What's your pleasure, what do you like to do to people?” Colby asked.

“Everything.”

My stomach fell out of its place.

“Everything,” Sam gasped nsd Colby quickly raised his hand.

“You would do everything to us?”

“Somethings.”

“You cannot hurt us or follow us home, you must stay here—”

“Oh trust me.”

“I don't like this,” I finally choked out.

“Yeah me neither,” Colby’s voice gently replied.

“Should we get him out?”

“One more question then we will,” he replied to Sam.

“What do you want to do to us?”

“it's already been done.”

“What? What have you—”

“Bye.”

And the headphones yanked from Seth’s head and fell to his feet by themselves.

The five of us stood frozen; all eyes peeled to the headphones that now reverberated with the shrill of empty changing channels.

The heat pooled in my stomach. I needed to change underwear.

“Holy shit—“ I finally break and take a step back.

”I know, oh god. What was—What the fuck—”

“What the hell just happened?” Colby cried and cut off Nate.

”Let’s—Let’s go back,” Sam choked out. “We need to get out of here.” Seth was deathly still and soaked in what had just happened to him. Nate’s hand held the back of his neck as we all left the conference room.

“Did—Did we get anything good at least?”

“Oh my god, let me tell you what happened.” On the way back to our rooms many stories above, Sam told Seth the entire story.

“How was that possible?” Colby finally broke. He spun around and walked backwards so he could see us all. “It literally stole enough energy from us to throw the fucking headphones down!”

”Which makes sense. I might pass out,” Seth said.

“Let’s hurry.” Colby grabbed my hand.

The ache wouldn’t leave. It was like it attached itself to my legs and spread up, up, and up— the heat in between my legs was unbearable now. I needed sleep. I needed to pass out. I needed—

I looked at Colby as we entered the elevator. His eyes were nearly devoid of color. We all were drained and tired, and this strange feeling like a spirit of desperation or something, came over all of us so suddenly that even Sam forgot to pick up the camera and press record again.

Nate and Seth went straight to their suite and Sam led us into ours. My heart pounded against my ribs as I crossed the threshold. Eyes. I felt their eyes on me but I didn’t turn back. Too tired, too drained, I didn’t know what else, or how much else, I could handle. I kicked my shoes off if I walked and didn’t even mind that they were in the middle of the floor. I flopped on the bed only for them to follow me.

Sam pulled a rem pod out of the backpack and set it up in the corridor between the first room and the bedroom while he set another room in between the corridor of the bedroom to the bathroom.

”Just in case,” he told Colby as he shot him confused looks.

The anxiety that welled in my chest depleted when Sam yawned and slipped out of his hoodie. Colby’s eyes were closed and I couldn’t tear my eyes from his dark lips when he licked them wet.

”I’m so ready to pass out,” Sam said. He flicked the lights off.

Colby made a sound as he moved and I heard him as well strip clothes off. What was happening? It sounded like their heads were caught in a fog as well and we couldn’t think. Our decision making skills were non-existent and when I slipped under the blankets in between them, it didn’t feel off from any other situation we had been in. At least Sam plugged his phone in. I could have left mine in that conference room and it wouldn’t have mattered to me.

The darkness of our room struck me before my head hit the pillow and I was out.

My throat was a dry fire and my skin turned to lava. My eyes peeled open and swirls of blues and whites from my forgotten dream mix with the darkness of the room around me. I whined. It was fucking hot. I sat up straight because if I didn’t get the hoodie off of me immediately I was certain I would die.

”Hey,” I heard Colby’s half asleep voice. I only whined again in response. He sat up. “What’s wrong—“

”So fucking hot I’m going to be sick.”

”Here, here,” his soft voice replied, and his hands quickly snaked under my hoodie. It was a frenzy to get everything off. I didn’t know what came over me, us, but before I knew it my hoodie hit the floor on top of his leather jacket and my thermal came off with it. My back hit the bed again as he hovered halfway over me. “Better?” He whispered.

”I—I don’t—I need—“

”What do you need?” My hands already fumbled with the button of my skinny jeans. Colby’s eyes trailed down my body and I didn’t cower in the sight. His hands swatted mine away and I lifted my hips so he could drag the damp fabric from them. Only when my jeans met his on the floor did I realize that he too only wore underwear.

”Something—anything—“

”Fuck, it’s not just me who feels it then, huh?” I shook my head quickly. He wavered in his confidence. Even in the darkness of the room I watched his head shake. His arms shook as well and he fought within himself it seemed.

”Do whatever you want, Colby.” So he lowered himself down on me. When did my legs spread?

And when I felt how hot and hard he was already, questions poured through my mushy brain faster than I could process them. Was this an effect from the demon? If so, what kind of demon was it? Were we not just tired out of our minds but also horny out of our minds as well? What if this wasn’t even the demon? Did I really like Colby more than I was willing to admit? Was Sam alright? Was he even still asleep?

A moan hitched in my throat when Colby purposely thrusted against me slowly. My back arched and he pinned me down by my throat.

”Sh,” he demanded. “This is what I want. You still gonna let me do it?”

I couldn’t think. Nothing rational repeated disagreements in my mind because for far too long now I’ve wanted this too.

I nodded frantically.

”Please, I’ll beg you to do it if you won’t.” He laughed once.

”I don’t think I can give you the time to beg this time.” This time? More sounds so far from myself escaped my tense throat when his thumb dipped into my mouth. He pulled at my teeth then my bottom lip and even though I know he only tried to find where my mouth was, my eyes still rolled back at the feeling and bitter taste.

And his mouth was on mine.

He drank down my moans and pushed my legs back so that he could thrust against every part of me. I couldn’t even call any part of this dry or clothed because my arousal was enough to saturate both of our clothes to ruin.

My stomach couldn’t keep up; it twisted under my skin and my heart pounded in my ears with every lick of his tongue behind my teeth. My hands chased up his skin from his pantline to his neck where I held tightly. I couldn’t get enough of it even if our sweat mended together past the point of comfort and our noises and movements were definitely harsh enough to wake Sam.

When he pulled away, I sucked on his tongue hoping to bring him back.

”Holy fuck—“ he gasped as I let go of his tongue. It was then and there that I decided I could never get over his taste and I needed more and more of it until I was addicted.

And I heard a heavy breath from Sam.

He did too because both of us shot wide glances at him. Of course Colby didn’t stop the obscene movements against me. Thankfully. Colby looked back at me, but I still watched Sam sleep. His head tossed from being disturbed and my heart dropped when I realized that in a matter of seconds, Sam’s eyes would be on us.

”Look at me,” Colby hummed and of course I did. “Please, can I…” He mumbled as his fingertips dipped under the band of my underwear.

”Fucking god—obviously,” I whined and writhed under him because why wouldn’t he hurry the fuck up—

My underwear were halfway down my thighs when we froze in our tracks; a moan that wasn’t mine.

“What—“

And another.

We looked at Sam simultaneously and I couldn’t look away from him this time.

”Maybe it—Maybe it’s not just us too,” Colby aimlessly spoke as he hurried to get my underwear off my legs. It was impossible to keep still. The friction overstimulated my every nerve but it also wasn’t enough. I needed more, more of something, of anything.

”Fuck.” Another drawn out moan interrupted us and I couldn’t contain the fluttering in my chest from the sound of Sam’s voice. He must have still been asleep because he moved lazily. I watched him as Colby ducked under the blanket.

Just as Colby’s mouth met my thighs, Sam thrusted up into the sheets.

He looked for something, anything, and in that moment I understood. I questioned, something in me truly did because this was incredibly unlike us, but I couldn’t think straight. Not with this haze flooding my neck and this cotton stuffed in my brain.

”Colby—“ I gasped the second his tongue met me. My hand found his hair and it only pulled a moan from him.

“What the fuck.” And there it was. A groggy voice next to me. I looked away from him in fear of my own red blush but I forgot how dark the room was. “Oh shit—“ It sounded like Sam came to and understood the situation now. “What the hell, why do I feel—“

”Sam.” I didn’t mean to hum his name the same way I did Colby’s. Colby moaned as he sucked me sweetly; I nearly blacked out from the heat of his tongue. And when his fingers teased me? My hips writhed for him. “Please oh my god, more just—inside already,” I whined and thank the heavens Colby didn’t put up a fight.

I didn’t even try to conceal my moans anymore, not when his fingers filled me and his tongue stimulated me so perfectly. Even in the darkness I saw and felt the head rush; my vision pounded with stimulation and shock.

Muffled moans caught my attention and I looked at Sam. He had turned to his front and although his eyes were closed and pointed down, he still faced me. His arms were crossed under his pillow and I knew he tried to fall back asleep.

He was closer though.

And I didn’t disregard the way his hips thrusted repeatedly into the mattress.

”Colby please, god I’m so close.”

”I know,” he whispered but pulled away. I wanted to complain but how could I when his kisses and tongue trailed up my body like that?

“Sam he’s—“

”I know,” Colby laughed. “It’s okay.”

“How do you know?”

”Look at him,” he laughed. “He would have told us to fuck off by now.” I don’t know why I would ever question Colby’s judgment of Sam. He knew him like he knew himself; I should have known they could communicate without even speaking at this point.

”It—It's okay,” Sam choked out. “Fuck—Colby, fuck her.”

I swore I met god from the sound of those words on his wet tongue.

A string of inaudible expletives rushed from Colby's mouth as he crawled up to eye level with me.

And he couldn't even wait.

He pulled himself from his underwear instead of taking them off, and my head tossed back when his wet tip slipped across me. My hands grappled for anything to hold on to for support. I couldn't contain myself or control my movements, not when Colby felt like heaven incarnate.

Sam's hand came up and pinned my wrist to the pillow next to my head. I whined for release but didn't do a good enough job escaping his grasp; his fingers slid up and interlocked with mine.

“Can I? Inside you?” Colby gasped.

“Inside me, fill me up please. I need—You know how bad I—”

“I know, I know,” he groaned before pushing himself fully in.

A moan punched out of me and I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore. Sam moaned as well and held my hand tighter.

And as Colby fucked me like we would have no other chance, Sam thrusted into the bedding and pushed his hip against mine.

“Feel—Oh my god you feel better than I imagined,” Colby moaned.

“You imagined me?”

“No shit,” Sam bit back in spite. Colby only moaned louder and shoved my knees back further. My moans lifted to nearly a scream and Colby clasped his hand around my throat.

“Sh, only I can hear you, baby.”

“And Sam, right?”

“Fuck,” Colby laughed. Maybe I couldn't see him but I heard the blush. “Only if you can be good for him too.”

“I can be good,” I whined. Sam moaned and his hip pushed tighter into mine.

“Let go Sam—My hand, let go,” I forced out through the moans, and he did. Immediately I lowered my hand in between us and slipped it under him.

“Oh shit!” He cried and allowed me to wedge my way in between the bed and his insanely wet arousal. Between my sweat covering my skin alongside Colby’s and our pre-come saturating our legs and sheet, I should have felt disgusted. But it was heaven on earth. I wanted to drown in them. “Oh my god, you'll make me cum so fast,” Sam gasped into the pillow.

“You're doing so good,” Colby's moan turned into a laugh. “Like holy shit—I'm fucking close too.”

“Harder, please Colby, fuck me harder,” I whined and his head tossed back. His skin slipped under my nails from the sweat so I couldn't leave marks so I yanked him down by the neck. His hand supported himself next to my head and he moaned as I sucked harsh bruises into his collarbone.

And I pushed my hand tighter against Sam. His underwear were soaked and I just needed a little more—

“Oh—Oh my god yes, yes, yes—” Sam moaned as I shoved my hand in his underwear. I stroked him in time with his thrusts and there was something about the way his hips shook that ingrained in my mind.

Colby gouged his fingers into the thick of my thighs and I couldn't help but hope there were marks for me to fawn over in the morning. And it was his turn.

He leaned over me, and with his free hand, he held the side of my neck and kissed me into the pillows. I couldn't breathe between his violent thrusts and with his intoxicating taste in my throat, I let go of my body and let the boys fully take over it.

Then another arm came up and pulled my leg back.

“Sam—” I gasped his name when he inserted his arm under my leg between me and Colby. A gasp expelled from my used throat when he swirled his fingers against me. “Shit! There, there like that, oh my god!” I all but screamed.

“Oh fuck yeah, does it feel good baby?” Colby moaned. “Does it take both of us to please you, make you feel good?”

“Please! I'm so—”

“Holy shit, the rem pod!” Sam groaned.

And he was right.

I opened my eyes to find blue and red lights flickering in the dark abyss of a room and a loud shrill combined with our moans. Of course he was even prettier fucked out of his mind. Colby's hair stuck in every direction, and his lips parted in pleasure so I could see the gleam of saliva on his tongue. Fuck, I wanted him inside of me. Not even if he curled up in my bones would he be close enough.

“What—What time is it?” Colby breathlessly tried to ask in a serious tone.

Of course they would still be on the grind for work while fucking my brains out.

Sam moaned as he leaned and grabbed his phone—

“Holy fucking shit no way; it's 3:33am now 3:34.”

“Jesus, fuck,” Colby gasped. I didn't give a fuck. I needed him deeper, closer.

“More please—”

“So needy, baby. Oh my god. Want more? Alright, let me—” Colby rose to his knees and pushed my thighs back again. “Sam finger her, use your fingers, yeah like that.”

My gasp caught in my throat when Sam slipped his fingers lower and joined Colby inside of me. This time I think I blacked out but I'm not sure; when I open my eyes, my tears blur what little exposure the rem pod lights give us. Colby’s blue hued face gleamed back at me blurry and Sam's moans flooded my side.

“I'm cumming—” I whined. Colby nodded his head furiously.

“Shit yeah, cum—cum for us,” he praised. And Sam fucked his fingers deeper and finally found that spot inside of me—

My orgasm crashed into me before I could prepare myself and I closed my eyes and allowed the pleasure to take me.

Sam's moan was next, and I felt him cover us with his warm fluid. I made sure I stroked him harder until his hips painfully pinned my hand down and rendered it unable to move. His moans turned into whines from overstimulation and that was when Colby broke as well.

“I'm—Holy shit I'm going to—”

“Fill me, Colby. Please I need your cum. Cum inside of—” I barely finished my sentence before he choked out a loud moan as well. With my name on his lips, I swore I could have finished again and again, nevermind Sam's fingers that still harshly worked me.

It took a second or two and then Colby cried out with overstimulation.

“Sam—” he gasped, but as he pulled out, Sam got up to his knees and pinned me down.

“Please, please, please! It's so much!”

“Let go, baby. Let go when you need to—”

“Sam! Oh my god—”

Another wave of pleasure drowned me and I held onto his other arm as he fingered me through the intensity of it all. After another few seconds, he pulled his dripping hand away. My entire body violently shook as I watched a cup full of my fluids and Colby's release drip from his hand.

“Holy shit, you're so damn hot,” Colby laughed as he leaned back over me and kissed me again. He wiped the tears from my face.

It took a few moments.

For us to come back to ourselves, find our wits again.

The rem pod never stopped.

Sam walked to the bathroom to clean up since he was the dirtiest.

“Holy shit, what pervy ghosts—”

The rem pod stopped.

“No fucking way,” Colby burst out laughing and I covered my face with my arms. “Stop,” he laughed and pulled my arms back. “How can you blame them? You're so hot, so sexy, the most beautiful thing—”

“Alright ew, get a room,” Sam jeered from the bathroom.

“You're judging as if you didn't just finger her with my dick on your hand—”

“Alright I didn't think you'd say anything about that.”

“Aw, what, are you embarrassed that you touched his dick for the first time?” I teased.

“And it's the fucking last time too; that was disgusting,” Sam complained as he washed his hands harsher.

“I would have expected it to definitely not be the first time—”

“Shut the hell up,” Colby laughed. “Sam’s just judging me for telling you how hot you are, how beautiful and good you are—” I watched a sliver of Sam's reflection in the mirror as he smiled and shook his head. “—How much I love you.”

My stomach dropped and my eyes looked straight to Colby. The bathroom orange light drenched his face with an overwhelming warmth I wanted to swim in.

“Colby—” He held my face in his hands. “Love you.” The sentence only just fell from my lips before his met mine.

“Okay, okay,” Sam said. “There's all the time in the world for the lovey stuff after I leave.”

“And this is the only time you'll be here for this,” Colby snapped back. My eyes widened. I didn't anticipate Colby's genuine hostility towards his best friend over me.

“Colby,” Sam laughed. “I know. Obviously I know: she's been all yours from the start.”

“What the hell?” I shrieked. “Am I the only one who knows about this?” The two burst out laughing but not without a thick blush on Colby's already flared cheeks.

“Seems like it,” Sam laughed as he pulled on fresh underwear and clothes.

“Okay,” Colby sighed. I gasped as his arms tucked under my worn out body. “Let's clean up so we can actually have a good sleep.”

I held onto him as he carried me to the bathroom. He turned on the shower as I pulled my hair back to keep it from getting wet.

“Oh my—” He gasped a laugh when he looked in the mirror. Love bites lined his collarbones and slipped down his chest. “How are you so damn good at that?”

“I don't know, I guess you bring out the worst in me.”

“You have to be careful because I'll bite you back.”

“Oh yeah? Maybe you should or else you're all talk and no bite—Ah!” With that coy smile he slapped my ass and pushed me towards the shower.

“Get in the damn water, you're dripping cum everywhere.”

I couldn't open my mouth as Colby dropped to his knees in front of me. Ever so gently, his hands cleaned my skin with soft body wash until I was clean and smelled like myself again. He kissed my skin and trailed up my thigh.

“Don’t,” I sighed as I brushed his hair back. It was soaked from being directly under the water. He looked up at me darkly; eyes bright blue again.

“Can't wait until we go home.”

“And why's that?”

“Then I can finally have you in my bed like I've always wanted.”

“Colby is—” My tongue tied in my throat as the bashful smile fell. My heart slowed. I licked my lips. He stood to his feet. “—is that something you've wanted? Permanently?”

A slow nod from him had never felt this way before.

“I've wanted you, permanently.”

“Let me go home with you then.” My arms wrapped around his neck. “I've wanted to be yours forever by now.”

And he tossed his head back into the water with a wide smile.

“Fucking finally.”

The morning wasn’t kind.

The sunlight bit at our sensitive eyes, with zero remorse, as we tried to get ourselves together and ready for check out. We all were spent. Now it was time for a long—long—break in our own beds.

When we made it to the lobby, it took all but three seconds for the other two guys to shine widened shocked eyes back at us. Of course I messed up; I miscalculated the height of Colby’s neckline last night, but could anyone blame me?

”Colby—You—Last night?” Nate gasped. They looked at me.

“I—“

”Sam?” Nate looked at him. His face flushed pink as a boyish smile pulled at his lips.

“Hey now,” his hands rose in self defense. “It wasn’t me and it’s not happening again if you really want to know.” Colby tried his best to hide a wide smile, but as he hooked his arm around my neck, he broke a laugh.

”Jesus Christ.”

A/N: I am new here—to Tumblr (other than my account from 2013-2016 that popped off real hard rip)—and also Sam and Colby. I write predominately one shots for Dream Team, Corpse Husband, and Sam and Colby now. I dumped all my works on Wattpad—easy reads—and I got up to 3 Million reads on my Corpse Husband one shot collection, but Wattpad smote that shit.

Request anything—outside of my listed interests, I’m open to Jake Webber and Johnnie Guilbert but I don’t know much about them—and I will write it. I focus on 18+ writing so request anything in your wildest dreams, and if it somehow is too wild for me, I will let you know (but that has yet to happen).

Love, Rosie

#sam and colby #colby brock #sam golbach #solby #colby brock smut #colby x reader #colby brock x reader #minors dni #18+ only

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autisticlancemcclain · 6 months

Text

Cool fingers press lightly into his skin, yanking him from sleep. A hand shakes his shoulder. He clings stubbornly to the last dredges of unconsciousness, desperately trying to ignore the disturbance.

“Keith. Keith. Keith, baby. Get up.”

Unfortunately, this disturbance cannot be ignored.

G-d, Keith fucking hates Halloween.

“What, Lance,” he groans, flailing around blindly for a pillow and smacking it over his head. Lance waits a second, allowing naive hope to bloom in Keith’s unmoving chest, before wrenching the pillow away. Keith opens his eyes just to glare at him. “It’s one in the afternoon!”

Lance’s smile is bright and beautiful. It’s too early for that kind of shit. Keith can’t tear his eyes away.

“I changed my mind about tonight.”

Keith blinks. “…Really?”

That’s…unusual. Lance loves Halloween. Keith has been grumbling about it for decades, but his husband has never swayed, dragging Keith gleefully to pumpkin patches and Target and various thrift stores to prepare for a night of handing out candy to demanding children and teenagers alike. Keith carves a stupid pumpkin every single year. He flies up to the roof to overdecorate and Lance’s fathoming. He dumps overpriced and overpackaged candy into a stupid novelty bucket. He refrains from tearing the doorbell off the doorframe in flinging it into space. He caves, essentially, to every single one of Lance’s whims.

He used to make entire nations cower by baring his teeth. What has become of him, truly.

“I don’t. Actually. Detest this stupid holiday down to my bones,” Keith admits hesitantly, dragging himself so he’s sitting upright. “I mean, well. I do. It’s dumb and cheesy and stupid. But. You love it, so.” He is suddenly sick to his stomach, realizing that all his grumbling might have actually dimmed Lance’s adoration for Halloween, his love for all the silly traditions. As much as he’d rather not have Twilight wannabes and plucky princesses stomping all around his house all night, he will endure it for the way Lance bounces with excitement every ring of the doorbell. He has for over half a century. He thought Lance knew that.

But thankfully there is no heaviness Keith can find in Lance’s expression, no sadness dropping his shoulders. His brown eyes sparkle with the same flash of mischief they usually do; if anything they glow a little brighter, shine a little more golden in the late afternoon sun.

“Oh, please,” he says warmly, flicking the bridge of Keith’s nose. Keith’s affection, however masked, is noted. Keith lets out a sigh of relief. “If the entirety of the western world up and forgot Halloween had any meaning then you would be smug for the next two centuries, you scrooge.”

Keith inclines his head. This is true. “Then why don’t you want to hand out candy this year?”

Too energetic to be still any longer, Lance brushes his knuckles against Keith’s cheek and gets to his feet, spinning towards the window and resting dramatically upon the frame.

“Well,” he says, hand brandished theatrically on his hip, “you know how Pidge can change her appearance for tricks?”

Understanding dawns on Keith. He groans, loudly, falling back onto the mattress and throwing the duvet over his face.

“No, Lance.”

His husband isn’t deterred in the slightest. “Yes!”

“I refuse. Pidge will refuse!”

“Think of Hana! You know Shiro has her dressed as a fat baby pumpkin. You know it, Keith. Think of how cute that will be.”

That will be cute. This is true. But, as Lance so often likes to point out, they live in the age of technology. Keith is sure he will get a slew of pictures of his niece in a pumpkin costume in the next few hours.

“I’m going back to sleep. Good night.”

“Sun’s high in the sky, Count von Count.” Lance yanks the blanket from Keith grip. His smile is wide and victorious when Keith looks at him, because he knows damn well the only reason he could pull back that blanket was because Keith let him.

He knows he’s won. Keith hisses at him.

“Come on,” Lance coaxes, leaning down to kiss Keith gently. “Don’t think of it as us trick or treating. Think of it as…stealing candy from babies! We’re taking the opportunity from some kid, no? Making less to go around?”

“That’s a horrible way to put it,” Keith grumps, even though it isn’t and it’s actually really funny and Keith is furious at himself for the laugh he chokes down. “This is so stupid. We can buy our own candy, Lance.”

“But trick or treat candy has —”

“Do not say there’s magic in it.”

“—magic in it,” Lance finishes, snickering. “And lots of it.”

He shrieks as Keith lunges forward, jabbing him in the ribs until he’s breathless with laughter and protest and pinning his wrists to the mattress. He struggles against Keith’s hold, uselessly, because Keith’s grip is stronger than iron shackles and he’s too weak from giggles to put up a fight. Keith rolls his eyes at his own smile at the sound.

“That is such a dumbass reason,” he says, exasperated.

“It’s real, though,” Lance insists. “The act of freely giving a possession —”

“—imbues it with the power of good will, yeah, yeah, I know.” He leans down and bites the tongue Lance has stuck out on him, smiling slightly at how quickly the witch relents, how quickly he melts into him. Affection bleeds from him in full, Keith finds. Sometimes so potently it changes the weight of the air.

“We can gather everyone up and look like a whole crew,” Lance mumbles against his lips. “Hana in her little pumpkin. Pidge can probably pull off a ten year old without even shifting. Allura and Hunk technically haven’t aged past their teens.”

“Allura is five thousand years old,” Keith grumbles. “At least. She’s an empress. She’s too dignified for this bullshit. She houses Ra.”

“She’ll think this whole thing is funny and you know it.”

Keith sighs. “Yeah, I know.” He kisses Lance one last time before sitting up, letting his husband wiggle out of his hold and buzz around their bedroom to get ready. He draws a line through the air, pulling back the fabric of space with sparks of electric grin, and digs around the little pocket for a moment. It becomes quickly apparent as he extracts two intricately made, exaggerated costumes of a cartoon witch and vampire, that this has been the plan for a while and his husband had no doubts about Keith’s begrudging acceptance.

“I have more costumes for everyone else,” Lance says excitedly. “They’re stereotypical and gaudy and horrible. They took me hours. I can’t wait.”

“You’re a goober,” Keith says fondly. Lance beams back at him. “Let’s go get some stupid candy.”

———

the halloween verse

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moodymisty · 1 year

Note

I always imagined Cross' eyes to be sensitive and get strained sometimes and when they do he'd turn into a teddy bear or smth he'd just want to cling to you and bury his face into your shoulder to keep the light away while so needy for cuddles or hugs and his squad is just like

🕴 that our Cross?? (bc before he met reader if his eyes got strained hed be the most grumpy gremlin his brothers have ever met)

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's Note: This is so cute!! I love the idea that Crosshair has eyes just as or close to as good as Hunter's thanks to his enhancements

Summary: Crosshair might be a loner but even he knows that sometimes tender loving care is what works best.

Relationships: Crosshair/Gn!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of sensory overload, fluffy, Crosshair being a grumpy little shit that needs cuddles,

-Hey. You busy?

Looking over at your datapad you see a message from Hunter, before glancing back at your computer. Hunter knows damn well that you're always busy, it's more so a matter of if you're too busy to sneak away and do whatever he has in mind.

Well, your work is practically done, so you'll message back in a few minutes once you're free. Because you know damn well that once you start with them, you'll be roped into whatever mess is currently happening. Before you have a chance to finish however, Hunter gives some much needed context to his earlier message. Not too much, however.

-Come here and help deal with Crosshair.

Since when did you become the resident sniper tamer?

Though Hunter knows you well enough, as even though you don't respond, you quickly finish up what you've been working on before getting up. Their barracks are a good ways across the base so it's a decent walk, enough that you can send a quick message.

-On my way.

Part of you is curious what in the galaxy could warrant such am urgent sounding message from Hunter; Though you'd probably never be able to hazard a guess. Hunter doesn't respond, largely because he knows you'll be there the moment he does. Their barracks are a good ways out of the way, but the walk isn't that far. Tech has it timed, actually; In another odd random bit of knowledge he has stored away in the brain of his.

It seems this time you were particularly speedy, as he's a few seconds off when you arrive, the door opening. The moment you enter you can feel the tension, as everyone hovers around the center of the room. Hunter comes up to you, and you whisper:

"What happened?" Looking over to see Crosshair on his bunk, with everyone glancing his way, but attempting to be subtle about it. His hand is pressing against his eyes and forehead, hard enough that he surely can't see very well. Hunter fills you in with the only word that is necessary.

"Flashbang." Oh no.

You know Crosshair's eyes are incredibly sensitive much like Hunter's, which also makes him very sensitive to things like bright lights. The two of them are the main reason why they have the lights in all their barracks, and the Marauder, dimmed so low.

Tech is hovering close by, the closest that the Batch has for a medic keeping an eye on a fuming Crosshair. Wrecker comes closer to check and gets venom spit at him, before he presses his hand back onto his face.

While his brothers are concerned and wanting to help, hovering and asking constantly if he's ok are both things that don't work intermingled with someone like Crosshair. You know that he just wants pitch black, and silence that's just as deep as possible.

Sighing softly you step away from Hunter, walking over to his bunk. You don't say anything, just sit on the edge and gently put your hand on his shoulder. You've delt with this Crosshair before, so you have a decent idea of what helps and what doesn't.

Within a few minutes he pulls you closer to him, forcing you to lean back more until you're partly laying down. He wraps his arms around your body, as his face presses against the black of your shirt above your chest but below your shoulder; Wrecker groaning and walks by yelling:

"Hey! Keep it clean, we're still here!" Wrecker jokes, laughing loudly.

Crosshair's hand quickly darts out to get a piece of Wrecker, who deftly dodges it.

"Fuck off."

He feels your hand gently on the back of his head, fingers playing with the short hair at the nape of his neck. His arms tighten around your ribs even more. His head is throbbing so much he doesn't care how he looks, or that what his brothers are saying isn't actually insulting. He'll just act like it is, and bite at them none the less. In a bit he'll be back to normal, but for now he'll indulge.

It's hard to believe that you've actually been a positive influence on his overall attitude, until you have times like this.

"Just leave him alone, Wrecker." Echo quietly speaks up from across the room, where he's cleaning dirt from the inner seams of his armor pieces.

You kind of wish you'd brought your datapad with you in hindsight, as now that Crosshair has you trapped, you have one hand completely empty as the other lays on the back of his head. It's also a little boring, just watching his brothers go about their individual work as quiet as possible.

A few months ago Crosshair would've never even considered doing anything remotely similar to this, but thankfully his edges have been buffed just the tiniest, tiniest little fraction.

You remember a long while back Crosshair had muttered that he didn't deserve you, and while you had vehemently denied the notion, he didn't seem to take it entirely to heart. You only hope these sorts of gestures help reassure him, relaxing with him as the thumping of his headache ever so slowly goes away.

Join the taglist here: @seriowan @simp-legend @nekotaetae @chad-something @coffeyorky @merkitty49 @lokigirlszendaya @totesnothere04 @get-wr3ckered @rebel-finn @mandoloriancookie @therealnekomari @loverofclones @notthatfanfictionwriter @lucyysthings @jennrosefx @fxlsealarm @crosshairs-wife @sinfulsalutations

#the bad batch crosshair x reader #Crosshair/Reader #tbb x reader #the bad batch x reader #crosshair x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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hotwings0203 · 2 years

Text

The idea of being in an argument w your yandere or being upset while in a car w them is SO hot

Like I’m thinking of some psycho like dabi or a conceited narcissist like bakugo in this situation, maybe it’s not even a yandere but def a crazy possessive dude who has serious issues. I guess you could do a guy like hawks, whose great in public and seriously pent up at home. Maybe even shigaraki, a guy whose not necessarily strong and intimidating from the outside, but whose eerie presence and potential keeps you in line

Tw:noncon, kidnapping, dubcon

Imagine he takes you out after a long time of being cooped up at home, being preoccupied physically yet mentally in a catatonic state as they show you the only use you have is underneath them. They finally agree to take you out to a friends’ party at a bar once your tears never seem to stop after a couple of days.

They look at you curled up on the bed like a scorned cat, your legs tucked up in a fetal position as you glare at them from underneath the tiny open pocket in the blanket you seek refuge in. The tears in your eyes shine in the dim candlelight of the dark room, akin to a cat’s eyes flashing as it remains crouched from behind the shadows.

“Can you stop being such a fucking brat and just come shower with me already?” He drones, dragging a hand down his face and sighing in exasperation as you glower and flip the other way, effectively cutting the conversation off. For a couple days now you’ve been putting up more resistance than usual, and while he finds it cute that you think you can evade him for that long, it’s annoying fighting tooth and nail to force you to be close to him, much to your chagrin.

He pinches the bridge of his nose as his scowl lines grow deeper. He’s annoyed, but he knows he’s being unfair. He’s been selfish, moving too fast for you even though he has so many more plans to keep you here forever than you know to the point where he’s realized you might seriously start to consider putting distance between you two.

Hah. As if he’d ever let you try that shit.

And so, one promise of coaxing you out of your “impenetrable fortress” of bed material leads to him agreeing to finally let you see your friends again.

Anything works if it means you’ll semi-willingly and very begrudgingly approach him.

He misses your smile, your laughter, the bright light you provide in his eternal void that caves in so deep inside of him that it swallows him inside out.

You look beautiful, he can’t lie, and he watches you sway to the music in your red dress. Truth be told, he’s glad you whined when he said no to it originally. It shows too much skin, yeah, but fuck he’d be damned if he didn’t admit the way your arms extend above your head so elegantly makes his heart ache.

Your hips rocking side to side in sync with the crooning tunes playing above makes his dick harder than it’s been since the last time he had you pinned beneath him, and he wants nothing more than to drag you by your cascading hair and fuck you up against the bathroom stalls like the teasing slut you are.

But his mood rapidly plummets as he notices a group of friends he vaguely recognizes slink up next to you, joining your movements and linking hands with you.

Hands that flutter around your curves, hands that aren’t his traveling up and down your sides, against the silk you’re in and dangerously close to places he’s meticulously claimed as his own.

But if that wasn’t enough by itself, when his eyes widen and he starts making his way around the bar counter to glare at you and to get the message of distance across, you…

You roll your eyes and turn away from him.

You fucking bitch.

Who do you think you are?

Enough is enough.

Without any more provocation, your enraged captor/lover storms through the crowd, shoving bodies aside and uncaring about knocking shoulders with people who cry out indignantly at his uncouth mannerisms.

From the corner of your eye you watch as a familiar head stalks it’s way to you, and by the time you’ve turned and witnessed the scene he’s making as he comes towards you, you’re scrambling backwards and tripping over your own dress.

But it’s too late, too little to acknowledge his presence as he pushes up against you and snarls in your face, “Playtime’s over slut. Did you enjoy all the attention? Shit, if you wanted some dick all you had to do was say so.”

You whimper in fear and desperately look around the party for anyone to come and intervene, but suddenly the music seems to be louder and the eyes that were previously on you and your little spat have turned to inspect the floor and around the room.

No one’s crazy enough to save you from what’s coming.

“Please! It hurts, let go! ___, stop fucking pulling me!” You yell through tears as your nails dig into his wrist.

He pays you no mind, pulling you through the mostly empty lot as a color red darker than your dress clouds his eyes, the image of you dancing like a whore while ignoring him playing in his mind on repeat.

His grip tightens marginally but you squeal all the less.

“What the fucks your problem? What, you can’t stand me having fun for more than 5 minutes without butting your crooked nose into it-“

This is the most you’ve spoken in over weeks, but he can’t find it in him to feel grateful as you falter when he yanks open the car door and practically throws you in the passenger seat.

Before you can even straighten yourself upright in the seat, he’s already rounded the car and locked the doors. You open your mouth to fire off another round of insults when he starts talking in a low, barely controlled voice.

“When we go home, your phone, laptop, keys, and any electronic you have is out the fucking window. You wanna act like the child? You wanna be a brat who can’t stay in her lane and be grateful? I’ll show you what happens when you act like one.”

Your agape mouth curls back in fear as he turns to face you, his enraged leer taking up the entirety of his face, his eyes gleaming with malice more than usual. His knuckles on the steering wheel are bone-white as he turns sharply this way and that, jostling you in your seat.

“You-you can’t do that. You’re not my goddamn father-“

“The hell I am, I’m your fucking daddy for all you know. After the shit you pulled tonight? I’m gonna act like one too.”

Your lip trembles as he continues in a growl, the streets blurring and starting to go by faster as he works himself up with terrible promises.

“-bend you over on my knee, beat your ass black and blue like how you wanted right? This was all for attention? Well, you got my fucking attention you cock-hungry whore.”

Your heart drops because you know the difference between his empty threats and his real ones.

He never has empty promises.

“I’m gonna tie you up and gag you with your own panties, would you like that, huh slut? You wanna be treated like my bad little girl?”

You sob and turn to the window as he shoves one hand in between your legs, groping harshly at your thin-lace panties and pressing his thumb near where you clit is.

“Nah. Nah, don’t fight me off now baby, I’m just playing your game. Look at me when I’m talking to you, the same way you look at me when you’re taking my dick so fucking deep.”

Your efforts to squeeze your legs together are thwarted as his massive hand pinches the meat of your thighs, forcing you to open up.

Your chest heaves as you gaze blankly out the window, your heart suddenly jumping when you realize he’s going 120 in a 50 lane.

“W-wait, please, slow down you’re going too fast.”

He booms with laughter and starts jerking the car left and right, doing nothing but increasing the speed 10 more miles up.

“Why, does this scare you? Are you scared, little girl?” His lip curls back into a deadly grin as he takes his eyes off the (thankfully) mostly empty highway and stares at you, your knees tucked away from him into the side of the car door. Your dress is askew and teasing a glimpse of your inner thighs due to his perverse ministrations before, your mascara running down your face.

You look like you got a good fucking, and he can’t help but to adjust his straining boner in his pants as he blatantly leers at you, his lip in between his teeth as he takes you in.

You’re terrified at his lack of attention on the road at the speed he’s going, so scared that your throat chokes up and all you can do is gape and point a trembling hand at the road.

“The! R-road, look!” You cough out and curl your hand against the armrest, your fingers tightening in preparation for the worst.

“Hey, you’re the one who brought this on yourself. This is what you get for ignoring me and breaking my trust. I have half a mind to pimp you out since I’m such a good boyfriend and all you want is attention.” His voice is airy and light but trembling with rage still. Just to turn things up a notch and to really teach you a lesson, he turns the radio on all the way to full and starts suddenly cutting across four lanes of empty road, then speeding back to his previous lane, and then again.

“Fucking stop! I’m sorry! I’m sorry, please slow down!” You shriek, closing your eyes and bracing your body for impact.

But miraculously, he slows down and ceases the lane-swerving.

Your blood pounds in your ears and you grasp the sides of your dizzy head as you heave fast breaths. Your whole body is shaking, and you feel like you’re gonna puke as it takes a few minutes to calm down and stop an impending panic attack.

By the time you lift your head up from your knees and gotten a hold of your surroundings, you realize with a pang of shock that he’s already parked in some secluded woods area, and plopped you in the backseat.

“Finally, you said something. ‘Was wondering how long we’d live from the way you were forcing me to drive.”

You glance up and flinch at the way he looks.

The car is turned off, the moonlight behind him illuminating his silhouette and eerily only letting the whites of his eyes shine bright with mocking anticipation.

It’s befitting for him, he thinks, that the area he picked is dark and littered with giant trees that look overhead. The only light in this void that is so reminiscent of himself is one that he allows to come through, light that he lets you see, and that he takes as well.

You’ll shine as bright as he allows so.

“And now, for your lesson, little slut.”

*******

IM GONNA DO A PART TWO SOON SINCE I LIKED THIS ONE HEHEHEH

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mika-no-sekai-blog · 6 months

Text

The knife in the dark

Azriel's week: Day 3

Hosted by: @azrielappreciationweek

Word count: 700+

You woke up chained to the wall in some dark room that smelled like mold, urine, blood and fear. When your eyes got used to the dim light you could finally take a look around. Your stomach churned. You were in the dark dungeon. Panicking you pulled on shackles with all your strength, but not only they didn't move, the commotion drew attention of your kidnappers.

"Look who's up," one grinned. Together with his companion they stepped closer, malicious sneers on their faces. It was immediately clear to you that you wouldn't like what was to come. You wanted to move away from them, but shackles held you in place.

The other male grabbed your neck and squeezed. "Do you know why you are in this shit?" You shook your head while you were fighting for air. "You can thank your damn spymaster. If he hadn't interfered with our plans, none of this would happen to you," he barked. Now when they stood so close, you could recognise the uniforms of Autumn Court's guards. Whatever Azriel did, it really pissed them off.

"Our lord was angry, so angry," the first one said. "And when he gets angry, somebody dies."

"Now it's your turn," other one growled and they started to kick you and beat you with their big fists. You cried in pain, praying to Mother to stop it. When they finished with you, you hanged there on the edge of unconsciousness, bleeding from nose, mouth and numerous cuts, unable to breathe properly.

"How about we have fun with her before we finish her," one of them said.

"That's good idea," the other grunted. Their hands began to tear your clothes. If you could you would scream, plead, fight them, but you could only cry silently.

You were almost naked when you noticed a flash of a blade behind their backs. Soon after Azriel's face emerged from the darkness. He looked so furious and deadly that he could easily be mistaken for a god of vengeance, a fearsome angel of death. He was ready to kill and he did.

Armed only with his Truth-Teller and silent as night he launched on the males and finished them before they realised what's happening.

Two growing pools of blood wetted your feet. Relieved the horror was over, you swung on shackles, your consciousness slowly started to slip away.

"Hey," Azriel said softly. He cleaned his knife and put it away. Then he quickly untied you and lifted you up, clenching you to his broad chest. "Y/N, hey. Stay with me. Do you hear me?"

" 'hurts," you groaned.

"I know, sweetheart, I know and I'm so sorry," he sounded really hurt and worried. If the most calm and balanced person you knew, became so worried, your injuries had to be more severe than you thought. "Just hold on a little longer for me. Will you?"

You groaned again. Feeling your mind again slipping away, you tried to focus on the closest thing - his face, especially those beautiful hazel eyes with gold flecks that watched you worriedly.

Azriel gently placed a kiss to your hair and covering both of you in the shadows, he set out on his way out. Only then did you see the trigger. There were rivers of blood and death bodies everywhere along your way.

But you couldn't care less. He came to save you. He came for you. These words became your mantra, it helped you to stay clam. In his arms you felt safe.

You squinted against the bright daylight. He got you out of the dungeons without anybody noticing and raising alarm. The entire time his scarred hands held you firmly against his muscular chest heaving with effort.

You were listening to his strong and regular heartbeats, the sound like lullaby to your ears. The smell of cedar and mist was filling your nose. (Did he always smell so nice?) It was so soothing, it felt so right. You were still in great pain, but right now it all felt too distant to even think about it. And your heavy eyelids began to drop.

"Y/N, stay with me," he reminded you alarmed. And you did, locking eyes on his bouncing Adam's apple and tightened jaw, his high cheeks, full lips and lovely nose. (Was he always so handsome?) In that moment you would do anything for him.

As soon as it was possible, Azriel winnowed you to the medical hall in Velaris.

#azrielappreciationweek2023 #az x reader #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel x you #azriel #acotar fanfiction #night court

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ladykailitha · 1 year

Text

If I Rescue You, Will You Rescue Me, Too? Part 2

The Corroded Coffin boys are here and ain’t down with Eddie have to share a room with Steve fucking Harrington. (Don’t worry they come around, just some faster than others.)

Part 1

Steve woke up to the sound of two heart monitors beeping in rhythm to each other. He moaned and he could feel that there was someone holding his hand.

“Steve?” Robin asked.

His eyelashes fluttered and he could blearily make out her face. “Robs?”

She reached over the guardrail and pressed a button repeatedly. Two nurses came rushing in.

“He’s awake!” Robin told them excitedly.

The first nurse started taking readings on all the machines he was hooked up to while the other came over with a cup of ice chips.

She pressed the cup to Steve’s lips. He gasped when the cold ice hit his mouth and then slid down his throat. He greedily drank more until she pulled the cup away.

“How are we feeling today, Mr Harrington?” the first nurse asked.

“Steve,” he insisted. “Mr Harrington makes me feel old.”

Robin giggled. “You are old.”

“Steve, then,” the nurse said with a smile. “On a scale between zero and ten how would you rate your pain? Zero being none at all, five being it hurts a lot and I can deal with it, and ten being kill me, kill me now.”

Steve laughed. “Um...I’d say a four. It hurts but not a lot, a lot, if you know what I mean.”

The second nurse twisted a little nob on the equipment and suddenly Steve felt a rush of relief.

“That should help,” the first nurse said. “The doctor will be in in about ten minutes to go over your prognosis.”

Steve nodded. The two nurses left and he looked at Robin. “How’s Eddie?” He hadn’t bothered to ask the nurses because they would have told him he wasn’t family and not given him a damn thing.

She stood up and pulled back the curtain. There on the other side was Eddie still asleep with an older man clutching Eddie’s hand to his lips.

The man looked up for the first time and saw them watching him. He cleared his throat and stood up.

Steve watched as the man walked up to him.

“I’m Wayne Munson,” he said, introducing himself. “And you saved my boy.”

“Steve Harrington,” Steve replied and stuck out his hand.

Wayne smiled. “I know who you are, son. This girly and about a half dozen feral children have been telling me all about you.”

Steve blushed. “I’m sure they’re over-selling it.”

Wayne raised an eyebrow. “I really don’t think they are.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Steve asked, looking over at Eddie. He looked so small. So...dim. The Eddie Munson Steve had gotten to know in the Upside Down was always so bright and animated. But there was none of that now.

“Oh yeah,” Wayne said with a grin that Steve recognized even if it was a little strange seeing it on another face. “He woke up before you did.” He jutted his thumb at his nephew.

Steve grinned back. “He always did have a flare for the dramatic.”

Wayne’s grin softened to a warm smile. “That he does. The first thing you should know is, he would want you to know is that the government pulled their cover up bullshitery and he’s been cleared of all charges. He’s a free man. And they’ve given me the name of a good lawyer in case I wanted to sue the town for orchestrating that witch hunt.”

Steve let out a sigh of relief and all the tension that was in his body melted away. “That’s really good news, sir. This town will never believe it but that’s good to hear.”

Wayne chuckled. “I think they just might.”

Steve frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You know what close-minded assholes love more than an outsider to hunt?” Steve shook his head. “A venerated hero to topple. They placed the blame on the dead Carver kid.”

Steve blinked as his eyebrows crept slowly up his forehead. “Jason is dead?”

Wayne nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

“Shit.” Steve reached out for Robin’s hand again and she took his, giving it a squeeze.

Wayne grasped the guardrails of the hospital bed and breathed out slowly through his nose. “They said that he killed Chrissy because she was flirting with Eddie. Then killed Patrick when he refused to continue to hunt him. After all Andy’s witness statement could go for Jason as much as it could my boy.”

“And Fred?” Steve asked in morbid curiosity.

“Attacked by the same animals that got Ed.”

Steve stared at him in stunned silence. “So now everyone thinks that Jason riled up the town to hunt Eddie because he was the real killer?”

Wayne hummed. “Right in one, kid.”

Steve started laughing hysterically.

“Oi!” Eddie called from the bed next to him. “Fucking noisy neighbor. I’m trying to sleep here.”

Steve smiled. “Good to see the bats didn’t suck out all your snark.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow at Steve. “I have an unlimited supply.”

“It’s a Munson family trait,” Wayne agreed.

Steve buried his head in his hands. “Oh god, I don’t think I can handle two of them.”

Robin patted his thigh. “How do you think I felt the last three hours? It was horrible!”

Eddie and Wayne laughed.

“I like your new friends, Ed,” Wayne said with a grin. “Not that your old friends weren’t great. These two are funny.”

“And we aren’t funny?” Jeff said from the door. “You wound me!” Behind him Brian and Gareth were also making dramatic gestures.

“Guys!” Eddie cried. “Hey!”

The three of them shuffled in and they glanced at Robin and Steve warily as they passed them.

Eddie saw Gareth’s bandaged hand. “What the fuck, man?”

Gareth grinned. “Further proof that Jason Carver was the real villain. The dude tortured me to try and find out where you were.”

“Holy shit!” Eddie cursed. “That is messed up.”

They shifted nervously. “Lucas was with him.”

Steve and Robin’s heads snapped their direction.

“Seriously?” Robin squeaked.

Jeff looked over at her and nodded sheepishly.

Eddie reached out and grabbed Jeff’s wrist. “He was trying to lead them away from me but they caught on too quickly.”

Gareth gulped. “You sure?”

Even Steve and Robin were waiting on bated breath.

“Yeah, he told me,” Eddie said. “He was here earlier. He’s–he’s the reason Jason is dead.” He waved his hands wildly when he saw the stricken expressions on everyone’s faces. “He didn’t kill him or anything. Jason came looking for me at the Creel house and found Max and Lucas and Erica. Jason went crazy and started spewing a bunch of hateful shit. So Lucas punched him and because Jason was unsteady on his feet when the earthquake hit, he tumbled out the window to his death. Lucas was pretty broken up about it.”

“Poor kid,” Gareth said. “I guess it goes to show that you can’t be a nerd and jock. You can’t straddle that line and have it turn out well for anyone.”

“That’s bullshit,” Steve said. “Lucas can be good at sports and play D&D. He’s was trying protect his friends. And I hope this doesn’t kill his love for either.”

The room became deathly silent.

Brian turned to Steve. “What are you doing here, Harrington?”

Steve looked down at his hospital gown in confusion. “Being treated for the same animal bites as Eddie?”

Just then the doctor bustled in. He stopped short when he saw the large crowd at Eddie’s bed.

He cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon, I need to speak to the patients regarding their care. Would you be so kind as to step out for a moment? Just a moment. You’ll be able to speak to your friend after I am done.”

Jeff and Gareth shared a glance, but Brian bristled.

“Why do we have to go?” he asked, crossing his arms in front of chest. He wasn’t a small kid by any stretch of the imagination.

“I am going over sensitive medical information,” the doctor said curtly, “that under law can only be given to the patient or to someone they have deemed by signature on a legal document to share such medical information with.” He lowered his glassed and looked Brian square in the eye. “Now do you want to comply and come back in a few minutes or do you want to be escorted out of this hospital by security and not allowed back inside unless under medical duress?”

Jeff tapped his shoulder. “Come on, man, let’s go. It’s just standard procedure. They did they same thing when my cousin Ally had her appendix out.”

Brian went begrudgingly but he did go. Robin followed them out. She wasn’t old enough to sign legal documents yet, her eighteenth birthday a month a way. So she couldn’t supersede Steve’s parents being his medical contact.

Yet.

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

Tag List: @anaibis @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @carlyv @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @itsall-taken @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @whalesharksart

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #season 4 fix it #ladykailtiha writes

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n3ptoonz · 6 months

Text

'May I?'

Pairing: Kenshi Takahashi/F!GangMember!Reader

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 1 (2023)

Warnings/tags: Smut, angst, fluff, canon-typical violence, praise, Kenshi is a romantic, female reader, did I mention Kenshi is a romantic, half proofread

Word count: 2.4k+

Explicit content under the cut

"Where. Is. Takahashi? That's all you have to answer, sweetheart." a goon whispered into your ear with nothing but malicious intentions. You were already emotionally and physically scarred, what more could they want? And how the fuck did they know you knew Kenshi?

"I told you a hundred times, I don't know where he is. In case something like this happened, he didn't tell me shit." your voice was worn from fighting for your life these last couple of days. You were tired and in pain. Your wrists lost all feeling, and you wanted nothing more than to crawl into a ditch and cease to exist.

Where Kenshi was had to be the least of your worries at the moment. Now, you wondered what the other goons did to the people in your clan. You wondered what happened to your parents after these freaks took you. You wondered just how long you've actually been here, as you're a little convinced you were knocked for a good 27 hours.

"Bullshit!" one man on your right stood up and kicked his chair towards a wall. Your head remained hanging low as you gave no reaction to it. All too used to these fucks trying to scare information out of you. The blindfold over your eyes was harshly removed, making you wince as the same guy grabbed your jaw and gave you the meanest mug you've ever seen.

"You knew he was conspiring against the boss. Do you think we give a damn about your little gang? These tattoos mean nothing! All of your lives are useless, you know. It's a shame all your people ran away too fast for us to round them all up. Truly admirable." he laughed, right in your face with his other friends.

"You think my people wanted to join some gang for protection? You all are cowards. Even if I knew his exact whereabouts, you'd get nothing out of me. Kill me if you must, I don't know what taking you so long." you spat out, gritting your teeth at the man with a hold on your face.

"Because you're bait, smart ass. Once he realizes you're not at your little hideout, we move-"

"Sir! There's a blind swordsman slicing his way through the front door!" a shorter man came running in with panic riddling his voice. A...blind swordsman? How the hell is that even possible?

The man released your face and turned to the door in confusion. "A what?"

"You heard me correctly, sir! He's killed twenty of our men already, we need to sto-"

Woah.

The room had very little light, the dimness making it difficult to see what was going on. All you could make out was the clamoring from the men getting stabbed and sliced up left and right. Just who is this guy?

Soon after you heard your name being called as the light in the room became brighter, making your eyes dilate in pain. You yelled out at the sudden brightness filling the room.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I had to make sure it was really you." the man who had just defeated all seven people in the room approached you, kneeling in front of you while your eyes adjusted. The first thing you noticed was the familiarity in his voice, but was ultimately confused when you laid your eyes on red cloth covering his eyes.

This...this couldn't be...

"...Kenshi?" you said, blinking to make sure. He's the blind swordsman?! But...that also means-

"You retrieved Sento...But you're blind?"

"It's really a long story, but I'll explain later. Right now I have to get you out of here." he said sternly, his voice slightly shaken being able to see how badly they hurt you through Sento. The defacing of your tattoos to the cigarette burn marks on the side of your face made him want to set this place ablaze.

"But I know you wanted to take down-"

"-Not my concern right now." he cut you off while undoing your hands and ankles, meticulous in making sure he didn't irritate your injuries.

You remained silent, way too spent to go back and forth with your lover. There were several moments you really thought he either wouldn't make it, or become too preoccupied with his goals to come back for you. The day you two accidentally met played in your mind over and over again to keep you sane, and now, finally, the madness was over. He really came back.

"I guess the bait worked." you mumbled, rolling your wrists and ankles slowly to get the feeling back. You rubbed your face in after shock and disbelief, just what were these last few days?

"Are you able to walk?" he asked, his tone soft and concerned. He gently took your hands in his, awaiting your answer. You could feel him trembling.

"Doubt it, they knocked me over a couple of times-" your words cut off, again, by the feeling of two strong arms lifting you from the old wooden chair that you're almost sure flattened your ass. You yelped in surprise, instinctively grabbing onto him as he carried you onto his back.

"They're on their way here so it's easier like thie. I'll try my best to avoid your injuries." he said, effortlessly running out with your weight atop his own. He, in fact, was not avoiding your injuries as they are practically everywhere, but you kept silent because it wasn't his fault. The world felt like it was spinning, making you close your eyes and let yourself rest for just a moment.

"It's going to be a while before we reach my place, please, rest up. Don't worry about me." Kenshi hoisted you up once more to maintain his grip, successfully leaving the building and heading off into the forest so he couldn't be tracked.

It's been a few weeks since. A few weeks of physical therapy, long baths, and most of all, peace. Kenshi has been in and out of the house tending to his duties elsewhere, still managing to check up on you everyday.

It's been a few weeks. A few weeks of not looking in the mirror and blame. Blaming who? Everybody. Every thing. Yourself. Kenshi. Hell, even your parents.

It's been a few weeks. A few weeks of picking at your bandages and sulking when catching a glimpse of your body littered with faded scars. The cigarette marks on your face looking like they grew faces and started pointing and laughing.

You have the training and willpower to fight. You should've just fought harder. You had the training- You know what? Fuck it. Fuck it all. Maybe you deserved it. Falling in love with a man who's a god damn Yakuza.

He didn't have a choice. And neither did you. So, give yourself a break, will ya?

Creeeak

The sound of the bathroom mirror being turned around filled your ears, making your jaw clench. Whenever Kenshi came home, you always quickly fixed the mirrors and wore a weak smile on your face to keep him from worrying. He had important duties that meant a lot to him, especially after joining a clan called the Shirai Ryu, which he held dearly.

Creee...akkk

You turned the mirror back around, staring yourself dead in the face. The dread in your eyes as you watched the burn marks twitch along with your mean mug. You slowly raised your hand to your face, poking at your scars, almost as if trying to make them disappear on command. You scoffed, placing your palms on the edge of the sink and looking down in shame. You pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to keep yourself composed.

Being deemed attractive was never really on your mind before, even when you and Kenshi met. But this, oh it took the biggest toll on your self esteem. Being told enough times that one of the intentions of the physical pain caused was so Kenshi wouldn't find you pretty anymore can fuck someone up. That was bullshit, and you knew it. However, it didn't stop you from thinking it a few times.

"Love?"

Your eyes snapped open to the sound of his voice, looking up and seeing his reflection in the mirror behind you. You reluctantly turned, greeted by a concerned Kenshi who just came home.

"You okay?" he spoke softly, walking towards you with caution. The expression on your face wasn't so clear to him yet, but he could sense your aura was imbalanced from a mile away.

The next words conjured up in your mind were now caught in your throat, unable to pass through smoothly. Any noise that was to come from you would probably make the waterworks start flowing.

Nothing else needed to be said. From your silence alone he just took you into his arms securely, showing no intention of letting go soon. He purposely caressed the side of your face with the most scars carefully, whispering sweet nothings and all forms of reassurance.

"I wouldn't worry about a blind man finding me attractive." he joked, rubbing your back. "Have you been suffering alone since we got here?"

You huffed a laugh through your nose at his comment, just slowly nodding against his chest.

"No more of that, please. I'm here whenever. I know I'm gone a lot, but you still need to tell me these things so I can help ease it as much as I can."

You hummed in response, feeling far more relaxed than you did five minutes ago. He backed up slightly, taking one of your hands and leading you out of the bathroom. He stopped in front of the body mirror next to the bed and made you face it, seeing you visibly about to protest.

"Ah, ah, this is me helping ease your worries."

Kenshi stripped himself of his uniform shirt, leaving his bare chest and pants. He stepped closer behind you and played with the bottom of your tank top in between his fingers.

"May I?" he muttered next to your ear.

You nodded and lifted your arms. Once it was off all you saw was what you've been avoiding these past few weeks. Although, to your surprise, your scars healed nicely. It wasn't as bad as you thought. All that there was left now was your bare chest and shorts (that were his).

Kenshi peppered your shoulders and neck with kisses where all the scars were. His strong hands gliding down your arms with tender, love, and care alone nearly made you dizzy. Your eyes closed shut and you exhaled in content, melting just under his affection.

"It appears to be working." he said playfully, now getting on his knees and turning you to face him. He continued his actions, giving you slow, attentive kisses on the scars that covered your torso.

"Perfection. You are perfection." he whispered.

Your longing desire only grew stronger by the second. Your hand brushing through his hair made him hum against you, smirking as he stood back up.

"I didn't forget," he said, cupping your cheeks and kissing them, giving extra on the side with the marks.

"Permission to make you mine tonight?" he added, and you knew exactly what he meant.

"I grant you full permission to make me yours, Kenshi Takahashi." you finally spoke in confidence, love and lust overtaking you all at once.

Once your back hit the soft, silk linens, Kenshi's entire demeanor took a big shift. His smooth, tattooed hands quickly worked their way down your body to strip off the rest of your clothes, soon following after. He groaned in satisfaction at the feeling of your warm skin against his palms.

Your breaths came together in sync with every connection of his hips. Each thrust having some sort of intent behind it. He wanted to take it slow at the start, silently letting you know how much he loved and cared for this canvas that was no longer empty. A few paint strokes here and there, but he didn't care not one bit.

Every joke has some truth to it, and he was a little serious when he mentioned his blindness. He remembers what you look like pre-traumatic event, so it's all just replaying in his mind as he fills in the blanks with the feeling of each scar and light dent under his hands.

The sounds of your breathless moans filled his ears deliciously, since it's what he mainly has to rely on now, he definitely feels reassured that he knows what he's doing.

You captured his lips with yours, muffling the crescendo of your voice as he kept reaching the exact spot that makes you lose your mind. Your nails dug into his shoulders with pure pleasure washing over you, as if you just couldn't take it anymore. You needed more.

"Kenshi...faster...please-" you muttered against his lips, shuddering at the feeling of him purposely stopping while being all the way inside you.

"As you wish." he said, slowly rolling you both over so that he was on his back and you were on top. Your trembling figure and hands gripping the sheets were the perfect indication that you were close.

Kenshi pulled you towards him to lay on his chest, holding your hips up and immediately getting to work. What was just the slow, romantic, and sensual Kenshi has left the building. Now was the Kenshi you met just half a year ago. The aggressive-when-he-needed-to-be, passionate, and goal-driven Kenshi who almost bested you if his hand didn't slip. This Kenshi was more than determined to have you cum first and himself after.

And that you did.

With his now fast paced and calculated thrusts hitting your sweet spot, he gripped your hips even harder as he got close. While you were letting yourself go on top of him, moaning and groaning uncontrollably in his ear, it was surely bringing him to his climax. Right before he let go, he sat up in the bed with you wrapped in one of his arms. The control he had was just impeccable.

He finally came, lifting you up so it didn't get inside you, but instead on your back. You haven't heard him curse this much in a while, which brought a tired smile to your face.

You both calmed down together, embracing each other and feeling your hearts beating at the same rate. You could feel the indents your nails left behind on his shoulder and back, seeing some red marks.

"Ah, that's gonna leave a mark," you murmured.

Kenshi chuckled, slightly untangling the embrace and resting his forehead on yours as he shrugged it off.

"Now we match."

#n3ptoonz #mk1 #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #smut #fluff #angst #angst with a happy ending #mk smut #mk fluff #kenshi takahashi #mk kenshi #kenshi takashi x reader #kenshi x reader

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myfandomlikesandstories · 7 months

Text

Successful! Llewyn Davis AU headcanons

Llewyn Davis x gn! reader

Genre: fluff, slight angst

Summary: what if Llewyn became a famous musician?

Warnings: mention of murder

Word count: 1088

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It was just another slightly drunken, shitty night at the gaslight for Llewyn. Nearly empty bucket, scattered clapping that died out after a second. Except it wasn't. He didn't know it was the night that would change his life.

You were sitting in the audience. You weren't a regular at the gaslight, not at all, but tonight you were just craving a strong drink and company. The other bars in the neighborhood were too loud and bright for you that night, so you settled on the dim, depressing, "folk song playing" place.

You clapped politely for everyone, not listening, as you nursed your bitter drink and bitter mood. Until something caught your attention. A handsome (albeit a bit shabby) man with the voice of an angel, who you likened in your mind to a wet cat.

You didn't listen to the words he said. Not that you didn't try, but his voice awoke something within you. As a songwriter on a slump, you jumped the chance and started scribbling on a napkin from the table. Just whatever came to mind. Nothing would come of it anyway, but it's good for your writer's block.

When he left the stage, you downed the rest of your drink and hurried towards him. You slowed before he saw you, trying to maintain your cool.

"Davis, right?" You asked.

"Yeah," he answered and you extended your arm to him while introducing yourself. He shook it tentatively.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

Llewyn thought about it. He automated to say no, but reconsidered. He had nothing better to do, could definitely use that drink, and you looked pretty damn good. So he accepted.

After some conversation (he didn't remember anyone being that nice to him for a long time), you asked him what were his plans for the night. He told you that he was staying with a couple of friends, those Jim and Jean couple, and they happened to pass by.

Jim was nudged by Jean towards Llewyn and awkwardly told him that actually, he couldn't stay on their couch tonight. Jean made some plans. You could see Llewyn's face fall, and when Jim left he just stared downwards quietly, in embarrassment.

"Correction: I'm not staying with them tonight." He mumbled.

You took a deep breath. "You could stay with me, if you'd like. My boyfriend-" you cleared your throat, "Ex boyfriend, just moved out and took all his shit from the study with him. So I got an empty guest room." (Why were you doing this? He's a stranger for fuck's sake!)

He looked at you, surprised. A quick mental calculation showed he had no one else to turn to that night. What's the worst that could happen? You'd kill him? He'd been thinking of joining Mike anyway. So he accepted.

Suffice to say, you didn't murder him. A while has passed, and Llewyn has become your roommate, practically. Yeah, he couldn't help much with the rent, but he did make that up by cleaning a lot, which sometimes is even better.

(Also, it was the 60s, rent wasn't that fucking high. It was about less than half of what it is today.) ANYWAY

One day, while dusting around, Llewyn found a notebook of yours. He didn't mean to peek, it just fell open or something. It was your poetry and songwriting notebook. By the time you came back home he had composed 3 of the songs there and was flooding you with questions about the chorus of a fourth.

You never thought to show it to him, you were just writing to your drawer! They weren't even good, or complete! You wanted to snatch it away from his hands and tell him to forget about it, but you've never seen him so happy. So alive.

He begged you to let him take your songs to his agent. How could you say no to him? Especially to those puppy eyes.

His agent was glad to hear Llewyn has partnered up again. He heard him out, and set him up with some producer. Finally, Llewyn Davis seemed like a good enough investment. And that's how it started.

From then on, Llewyn's career blossomed. He recorded an album (didn't sell away the rights this time) and the money started flowing. He preformed in front of larger and larger audiences, and you were always at his side.

He often felt like he didn't deserve any of that. He was told, so many times, that he was absolute crap and he started to believe it. But you were there to remind him. He deserved the world. Little did you know the only thing he truly wanted to deserve was you.

You inspired each other, creating more music and flowing with good energy. It took him a while, but when he finally found the courage, finally deemed himself worthy, he took a risk.

He asked you out.

When you started laughing at him, Llewyn's heart dropped. He's fucked his life over, again, in the worst way possible. You're going to leave and everything will go down the drain.

"Of course!!!" You said. "I'd love to go out with you, I thought you'd never ask! But oh my god your face..." you giggled. He sighed in relief, clutching his chest. You came closed and hugged him. He held you very tightly, smiling at your laughter.

That night you shared your first (and long awaited) kiss. A few months later you put out an album very different than both your writing so far. It was passionate, sensual, romantic and warm. One of the songs from it became the hit of the decade, and was played at countless weddings. You thought it was a beautiful way to immortalise your love.

And your love was immortalised alright! With two rings, nonetheless. Your wedding was covered by every newspaper in the country. Llewyn didn't like the attention all that much, though.

His solution? Another, more quiet and private wedding. This one ended up being your real anniversary.

Ever since Llewyn started earning a reasonable income, he insisted on paying for everything. Doesn't matter that you both earned a significant amount from the music, and that you joined bank accounts. He wanted to thank you for all that time you took care of him. So no, lunch is on him. Finally being able to provide for you made him really happy and proud (not that you needed any help).

You were one of the only "celebrity couples" who were genuinely happy together. You truly, deeply, loved each other, and when things would become too much you would take a vacation. Just the two of you. As it always was.

Llewyn made it in life, that was all agreed upon. Yeah, he became a famous musician, but the only thing he cared about - was you.

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

No pressure tags:

@eyelessfaces @alwritey-aphrodite @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @romanarose @spider-starry

I hope you like it, everybody❤️

#inside llewyn davis #llewyn davis x male reader #llewyn davis fluff #llewyn davis fanfiction #llewyn davis x reader #llewyn davis x you #llewyn davis angst #fanfic #my post #llewyn davis AU #inside llewyn Davis fanfic #inside llewyn davis fanfiction

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doe-writes-stuff · 7 months

Text

A/N - Some more action this time around. I don't write too many of those types of scenes, so with any luck they are as thrilling as I hope them to be! Please enjoy, and thank you for your continued support through my Sam Coe Hoe Era <3

WARNINGS: Strong language from reader, space battles.

With the grav drive activated, the threads of space and time shot by in an inspiring painting of bright lights. Distant stars and planets, shooting by as if they were inches apart instead of lightyears. You’d dimmed the interior lights to get the full effect, the silence a fitting backdrop for the show in display. Times like this, you’d often wonder how anyone could go their entire lives not traveling the expanse of space like this. What a view they were missing out on…

Lounged in your cockpit to wait out the travel time to the next system, your eyes watched the black sea fold before the ship as you traveled forward. Cora had stayed up to watch the sight a few hours previously, jabbering on about anything space-related she’d read in her most recent books, but now both her and her father were asleep in the living quarters one deck below. Good. After the non-stop missions you’d run searching for artifacts, they both deserved the rest.

Barrett and Gideon were likely in the rec room just down the way from the sleeping quarters, shooting the shit while you traveled your course to your destination. There was little for them to do while the grav drive was engaged, but you felt it necessary to keep to the day and night shift rotations, if only not to butcher any sort of routine sleep schedule for your crew. Better that than to be unprepared in the case of an ambush from Spacers or, even worse, the Crimson Fleet.

Vasco, of course, didn’t sleep. But you’d set him to cataloguing and organizing the ship’s cargo after your latest expedition dealing with Spacers who’d taken over an abandoned mining facility. To the victor went the spoils, as Sam always liked to say. Better that those damned pirates had less equipment to work with, anyway. Like vultures, they’d eventually flock back to where their dead fell, collecting any supplies left behind and likely picking up where they left off. At the very least, selling off their armaments was an acceptable repayment for the inconvenience of having to deal with them almost everywhere you landed.

Drifting away with your thoughts, three rapid beeps drew your gaze to the navigational projection screen in the cockpit of the Razorleaf. The final stretch of your journey was nearly finished. Sitting up straighter in your chair, you stretch your shoulders and neck, letting out a sigh at the relief it brought.

You press the button to intercom only to the rec room—so as not to wake your two sleeping companions. “Approaching the Sagan system, ETA 20 minutes. Prepare for grav drive disengagement.”

There’s no immediate indication that anyone had heard you, mostly because there was no need to scramble to stations with this much prior warning. Out of habit, you glance over the system statuses. All nominal, nothing of note to be concerned about. After a few minutes, you hear the sound of boots on the rungs of a ladder, and Barrett is the first to speak as he takes his place somewhere behind you.

“Evening, Captain.” His deep, naturally-booming voice sounds all the louder in the small cockpit. You can hear his smile without having to look at it.

“Barrett.” You greet with a small twist in your chair and a nod. Then, a thought occurs to you, and a grin plants itself on your face. “So, who won?”

“I did!” A voice calls from just below the ladder, and Gideon is next to emerge from the below deck. His smiling face says all as he straightens from the rungs. “Don’t let him tell you otherwise.”

“If I recall, it was a stalemate.” The dark-skinned man retorted with a chuckle as he took his seat. “But if it helps you sleep at night, we’ll say you win this time.”

“Stalemate? Hardly.” Gideon took his place at the opposite crew station, turning in his chair to point at his board game opponent. “I was a few turns away from capturing your FOB, and your production facility was surrounded.”

“I think you mean to say ‘strategically positioned,’ my friend.”

You turn back to the command console as they continue debating who in fact had come out victorious this round of Star Frontiers—if memory served right, Barrett was still up 4 to 2 with Gideon—and begin settling in place for entering the system. There were still several minutes to go, so you sat and relaxed as the ship counted down the necessary time left.

Eventually, another beep from the ship’s console alerted you the the immediate, impending disengagement of the grav drives. With a loose grip on the throttle and another on the steering mechanism—it wouldn’t be the first time you’d damaged the hull because of some asteroid field suddenly manifesting into existence in front of you—you watch as the grav drive’s timer ticked down to zero.

As it disengaged, you felt that familiar pull of gravity deep in the pit of your stomach. The ship didn’t falter or shudder, but the painting of lights and lines as you’d traversed through the fold slowly lengthened and morphed until you caught a view of the star system of Sagan. All this in the blink of an eye.

So fast, in fact, it took you a solid two seconds to adjust to the change and notice the fleet of ships now pinging your proximity scanner. Too far away for a solid visual quite yet, but you preferred to be overly cautious in known Crimson Fleet territory.

Gideon’s concerned voice floated over to you. He must have noticed too. “Uh, Captain-?”

“I see them.” You say, eyes narrowing out into the endless black, speckled sea of space. You just manage to see the tail-end of their thrusters against the darkness. With one touch of a screen, you initiate a data scan of the ships. Before the report even comes through, your communication array is already pinging with an incoming transmission. In the distance, you see the group move to face your direction.

You hesitate before accepting it. The voice on the other end is…predictably malicious. “We’re going to make this real simple for you. Let us board and you might all live, or die to the vacuum of space as we blow your ship to bits.”

Probabilities are running through your head, but apparently the silence in those precious few seconds isn’t what he was wanting to hear. “You have until my ship gets within missile range to respond.”

“Barrett how fast can the grav drive re-engage?”

“We’d need about 10 minutes for the fuel tanks to be refilled. Vasco!” He commed directly to his robot companion from his station. “Whatever you’re doing right now, drop it and get us refueled as soon as you can. We’re about to have trouble.”

“Acknowledged.” Is the robotic, tinny response.

Too long on the refuel. The Crimson Fleet ships would be upon you by then. You bite your lip, cursing this whole situation. The math wasn’t in your favor, either in engaging in combat or attempting a retreat. That left you with little choice…

Leaning forward, you tap the button to transmit your own message. “This is Captain Y/N of the Razorleaf. We…will prepare to be boarded.”

You could hear Gideon make an astonished sound behind you, but ignore it in favor of listening to the pirate’s response. “Wise choice.” The transmission cut off with a blip, and the cockpit is silent for all of one second.

“Captain, how-“

“I’m not letting them onboard this ship, Gideon.” You reassure with a firm voice, any and all relaxation leaving your shoulders as you straighten in your chair and strap yourself in. “They’ll find that out soon enough. Redirect some power from the grav drive to shields and engines while Vasco refuels.” You’d sooner die than have them anywhere near the inquisitive young girl you had onboard.

Speaking of…remembering that your two other companions were still sound asleep below deck, you hit the full-ship intercom to wake them. “Sam and Cora, strap into something down there and brace for evasive maneuvers. Five Crimson Fleet ships inbound. Repeat, Crimson Fleet ships inbound.”

Once again, there’s no signal to tell you that they heard your com, but you trusted that Sam had woken up at the very least and sprung to action. The group of ships had continued their way towards you, their hulls painted with the signature skull motif growing more visible as the distance between shortened.

With one slow inhale, and carefully controlled exhale, your hands take control of the steering and thruster throttles. The odds weren’t exactly in your favor here, but with any luck, the element of surprise will give you enough of an edge to make it through.

You weren’t about to let Cora die a gruesome death in space. You weren’t about to let Cora die at all. Fuck that and fuck these pirates.

The fleet of ships drifted closer, their speed now slowing in preparation to connect to your docking bay. Crimson Fleet ships were always designed to intimidate, and you had to admit, they were doing their job. Large guns and missile mounts alongside their hulls made for quite a threatening picture. Had this been a merchant or exploration vessel, you doubt you would have had any chance at all.

Gideon says something, but in your concentration, you don’t hear him. A few more seconds…they drift closer. You swallow, anticipation and trepidation in equal parts buzzing just under your skin.

There’s no signal or sign to cause you to engage the engines at full thrust with your boost enabled. It came out of nowhere, and the Razorleaf shoots forward out from the group of ships that had been preparing to box you in. You’re pressed back into your chair, the pressure grounding you as you spin the Razorleaf on a tilt, the distant stars shifting in your cockpit’s view.

Gideon half cursed and praised the sudden change in velocity, but otherwise remained quiet and focused at his station. Barrett was unusually silent, but you were thankful for his lack of interruption or witty quip that was so typical of him. Now wasn’t the time as you began your flight away from the pirates.

Another incoming transmission pinged on your communication array, but you simply denied it, not bothering to give the pirate anymore of your attention.

It would be too much to ask to cleanly get away from the fleet without them firing a single shot. It’s less than a minute before you see the first of the laser fire shoot past your ship and out into the space beyond. With a flick of your wrist, the Razorleaf banks and plummets below their firing line, sending them to chase you through the emptiness of the black sea.

Having Sam around had definitely improved your overall piloting ability. The man was a wonder behind a command console, and you silently thanked him for all of the skill and knowledge he’d seen fit to impart upon you on your travels together. You maneuvered the ship with ease, so familiar with its ability that it felt no more than an extension of yourself, in a way.

Your console blared to life an angry red, alerts coming at you full force. ‘Enemy Missile Locked-On’ it spat at you, and you cursed.

“Shields at 86 percent.” Barrett reported, then because he figured you’d ask, ��Vasco, how long before we’re topped up?”

“Should current velocity conditions persist, refueling will take an approximate 16 minutes, 39 seconds. Recommendation: stabilize current flight trajectory to decrease time required for completion.”

You feel the rumble and impact of the missile against the ship’s shielding, but your tight grip on the steering mechanism means you barely tilt off your current course at all, weaving around empty space to throw off their targeting as best you could.

“Shields?” You ask through gritted teeth.

“49 percent. Those things ain’t no joke.” Barrett mentioned.

“Another one of those is gonna put us in a bad spot.” Gideon mentions with worry in his tone. He’s right, though, and you know it.

With few options at your disposal, you make the realization that evading was only going to last you so long. The Razorleaf had superior shields, but under the onslaught of 5 ships’ weapons systems firing upon you at the same time, they would melt away in minutes just the same as any other ship.

Offensive action was now required.

“Gideon, divert all power from the grav drive to main weapons. Keep shields and engines at their current level.” You order, settling as best you can in your chair. “Looks like fighting is our only way out of this now.”

“Y-yes, Captain.”

She knows what she’s doing.” Barrett chipped in, just as your weapons all clicked online. “Don’t start doubting her now.”

You release a steadying breath, focusing on nothing but the impending fire fight. The throttle seems to hum in reassurance beneath your fingers, and with a resolute prayer to protect those you loved most in the deck below, you activated the boost and shot forward.

4 seconds, then 5, passed as you gained ground in front of the chasing ships. Then, right at the end of your boost, you addressed Gideon. “Cut all engine power.”

Thankfully, he didn’t voice his confusion this time, and simply followed orders. Just as the engines cut off, you jerked the throttle to the side, spinning the. Razorleaf in a free-floating turn to face your attackers. For all of 7 or 8 seconds you continued drifting forward, but space shifted in your cockpit view. This was a risky maneuver, but one that you had successfully employed before.

And then the pursuers came into view as you finished your 180 degree turn. Seeing the ships coming closer with the lasers still firing your direction, you shout once more. “Engines full power!”

The Razorleaf burst to life, the velocity once more shoving you back into the seat and propelling you forward. With a direct line on the first of the approaching ships, trigger finger clamps down on the gear like a vise, shooting the lasers from your upgraded main guns straight into those of the Crimson Fleet vessel.

“Enemy guns down.” Barrett reported proudly, but you’re already onto the one behind it by the time he finishes his sentence, managing to get a lock-on to the ship. A well-placed EM shot took down their shields, and your follow up laser blast no doubt damaged some parts of their hull on the port side.

At your current speed, you shot past them with a tilt of your steering mechanism. The whole thing lasted barely 12 seconds, but it had slowed down to what felt like a lifetime. Barrett, shields?”

“41 percent. Looks like you disabled the second ship. Only 4 more to go.” He reassured with something akin to pride in his voice. You manage a small grin, but don’t let your attention up from the stars before you.

More laser shots hit your shield and past it off into the black sea. More evasive maneuvers puts you in a better position to return fire, though it’s little more than a dogfight. Time passes strangely; what feels like an eternity is mere seconds and the span of a breath, and in the moments of breathless waiting you swear it happened in an instant.

The second ships sparks and explodes in a shower of metal debris in similar fashion to the first, your EM weapon making quick work of the shields, only to be followed up with a barrage of laser fire. Only 3 ships remained, and your shields had so far held steady at 37 percent.

Another missile lock-on warning blares across your screen, sending the adrenaline up a notch. Another boost and you’re suddenly out of range of the enemy’s targeting. Really, tangible hope begins to blossom in your chest as the third ship falls. Your wing grazes some of the debris, and you grit your teeth against the reverberation it sends through the ship.

“Fuck!” You shout, nearly colliding with one of the remaining Crimson Fleet ships as you attempt another evasive roll and bank to get away from his companion’s laser fire. Something loud bangs as you pass, and Barrett cursed under his breath just loud enough for you to hear. “Status?”

“Shields at 9 percent, Captain.” His sentence is punctuated by more laser fire, and he shakes his head at his screen. “Make that 6 percent.”

“These fuckers…” You mutter, angry that they’d been laying here in wait to begin with. Angry that the Crimson Fleet even existed. Maybe once all this artifact business was done, you’d reconsider the SYSDEF’s offer after all. At this point, you’d do anything to see them all wiped from the universe.

Another swift roll of the ship and you shoot forward through the bits of debris through one of the already destroyed ships, making sure to avoid the biggest parts just in case. Your shields wouldn’t hold up much longer, and especially not with the 2 remaining ships still firing at you. Luckily, one comes into view in your cockpit, and your EM weapon was ready to dole out its deadly effects.

This one doesn’t take out the shields, rather the engine. Just as well, you think, leaving the ship to stall out in empty space as you continue on with the last ship in pursuit. Another angry beeping sound alerts and diverts your attention.

“We’ve lost shields.” Barrett warns.

“Now or never.” You tell yourself, bracing for a risky move yet again. “Gideon, cut engines!”

Once more, you feel the Razorleaf lose momentum just as you pull up sharply on the throttle. The view of space tilts in your cockpit as you circle around to face the final working ship. You feel and hear as your ship takes damage, but you can’t focus on that until later. With another sharp order, your engines are back online and your weapons are full-blasting in the direction of the enemy ship.

Amongst the beeping on your console and the the celebration of Barrett and Gideon as the Crimson Fleet ship suffers an explosion—one of your lasers must have hit something vital—you can barely hear anything at all. Your ears ring, what from no one knows. But you sit there, adrenaline still coursing through you as you slow the ship to a more gentle velocity.

The command console still blares, but you shakily reach for the com. “Vasco, damage report.”

“Shield generator and port-side KE-42 Cannon sustained moderate damage. Left wing sustained minimal contact damage. All other ship systems nominal.”

“Any damage below deck?”

“Habitation units sustained no damage.” Then, as if he predicted what exactly you were trying to get at, he added, “Life signs for Sam Coe and Cora Coe are nominal.”

“Thank god.” You whisper to yourself, finally leaning back and unstrapping yourself from the pilot seat. “Vasco, please resume refueling the grav drive. Gideon, reroute power from weapons back to the drive, and Barrett, do an extensive scan of the area to make sure there aren’t any other ships coming to back up those ones.”

You received a smattering of affirmatives from your crew, before slumping forward in your seat. Your legs felt like jelly and the rest of you buzzed with the unused adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

Barrett must have noticed your sorry state, because you feel his hand on your shoulder after a moment. When you look up, he’s smiling at you. “That was some damn good piloting.”

“Thanks.”

He gestures to the rest of the ship behind him. “Go on and have yourself a rest, Captain. Gideon and I will handle it from here.”

“But-“

“If we need you, we’ll let you know.” He implies, not giving you the option to refuse. And truthfully, in your shaken-up state, you’re in no position to either. Nodding your acceptance, you somehow manage to stand and make your way towards the ladder to the deck down below. After all of the rolling and moving, it feels strange standing and walking on a static deck. The space seems to sway around you.

However, your head spins before you make it all the way. Dizziness overtakes you, and you sink down onto your cot just feet away. The bed is firm beneath you, but it’s enough to get your bearings on. You plant your face in your hands and exhale a shaky breath, elbows propping you up on your knees.

You’d nearly lost everything. You’d nearly lost your crew. You’d nearly lost Sam and Cora. That scared you more than any number of Crimson Fleet ships baring down on you. It had been too damn close. Too fucking close for your comfort.

Another shuddering breath escapes you, ears still ringing and hollow after such an ordeal. The weight of responsibility, to protect the ones you love most, presses ever downward on your shoulders and back. It would crush you if you let it.

Instead, a gentle hand is upon your back and a gentle voice draws your thoughts from spiraling downward. “Hey. You hangin’ in there?”

It feels like too much to lift your head and look Sam in the eyes. Instead, you simply allow your muscles to shake and shudder as the last of the adrenaline leaves you in a rush. You can’t speak, words failing uselessly at the tip of your tongue. But Sam seems to understand, and simply sits beside you, rubbing smooth circles into your back.

“C’mere.” He says, pulling your arms easily until you’ve buried your face in his leather jacket and wrapped your arms around his back. Maybe he knows where your anxiety was originating, because he whispers all the reassurances he can into your ear. “We’re alright. Cora’s alright. A little motion sickness maybe, but we’re still breathin’, darlin’.”

A deep breath fills your nose with his scent. Familiar and safe and just like home. Hearing him speak, feeling his warmth and the beat of his heart underneath the layers of his clothes…you slowly begin to use them to ground yourself back to the present, away from a possible reality where you all floated lifelessly through the dark empty void of space for eternity. No, Cora was alive. Sweet Cora and her father that you held so dear.

You feel the rumble of the grav drive come to life somewhere on the ship. Vasco must have finished the refueling. That revelation does ease some of your nerves. You lift your face away just enough to speak. “It was so close, Sam.”

“Yeah, but no cigar.” You feel Sam prop his chin on your head and pull you in just that little bit closer. “Five ships…Have I ever told you how amazing you are?”

“More like crazy…”

“A bit of that too, maybe.” You can practically feel the smile when he presses a kiss against your head. “But hey…Any day we aren’t space debris is a win, right?”

You sigh, deciding to let the man comfort you for once, letting go of some of the stubborn guilt that tried eating away at you. It was warm and comfortable, and right now, nothing sounded better than a nap. “Right.”

“Get some sleep, ok?” He encourages, pulling away so he can finally look you in the eyes. Pride and warmth swims behind them, and you can’t look away. Eventually you nod, and he flashes a wider smile, bringing your head closer to place another kiss, this time to your temple.

“We’ll all be here when you wake up.” Is his promise. One you know he would always keep.

#sam coe #sam coe x reader #fem reader #starfield #bethesda #scenario #star field x reader

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