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florencemtrash · 6 months

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The Artificer: Part I - Azriel x Reader

Warnings: None

✨Based on this ask ✨

Masterlist of Masterlists

"Azriel flipped through the information in his mind like a picture book: She specializes in crafting fae-bonded weapons using autoimmune magic. Brilliant, capable, and loyal - only a fool would underestimate her."

The air burned with unknown magic, mingled with the heady smell of smoke and metal and something else… something sweet and clean. Azriel couldn’t put his finger on it as he followed behind his brothers, weaving through the packed, but homey workshop.

Bookshelves filled with carefully attended tomes on woodworking, metallurgy, glassblowing, and more lined one of the walls, some faint traces of magic keeping them safe from the dust and soot that tended to accumulate in the corners.

The other wall was decorated with an assortment of keys - brass, gold, silver, steel, even glass twinkled in the faelight, like a hundred pairs of eyes winking. When Cassian reached for one, the metal began to glow and spark, spitting out thin bursts of magic that smarted until the Illyrian had the sense to pull away.

When Helion first offered your weapon-smithing services to Rhys, he had sung your praises so loudly that Nyx had awoken from his nap, whining incessantly for his father to rock him back to sleep.

Originally born to noble parents in the Dawn Court. She moved to Day thirty years before Amarantha’s rule to escape an ill-suited marriage and has been quietly designing weapons for Helion ever since. She specializes in crafting fae-bonded weapons using autoimmune magic. Brilliant, capable, and loyal - only a fool would underestimate her.

Azriel flipped through the information in his mind like a picture book, cycling through the lines Helion had spoken and his own independent research. He could recite your birthday, the names of your parents, your grandparents, your older brother who’d been killed in the war against Hybern, and the day you graduated university. He even knew the planned date of your wedding to some pompous Lordling from Summer.

What he didn’t know was what you looked like, and he wasn’t sure what to expect.

Perhaps he’d expected someone more refined and regal - you were of noble blood after all… but then they rounded the corner and your soot-stained face popped out from beneath the workbench, purple lens goggles magnifying your eyes to vibrant proportions.

You flipped the goggles up, resting them on your head like a crown.

Azriel blinked.

Strands of hair curled around your fire-blown eyes, framed by soft skin that had been spared the worst of the soot by your goggles. You looked like you had stepped out of a flame - strong and resilient as steel.

You were absolutely breathtaking.

“Oh shit.” You quietly cursed, bouncing to your feet.

You chucked the gloves to the side, hastily wiping away at your cheeks before dipping into a perfect curtsy. You were an actress caught in the spotlights after an ill-timed curtain opening, and you needed to make up for the poor first impression. You hastily slapped on the costume of the High Born Lady, feeling every etiquette lesson your mother had hammered into you slide over your limbs until you were a puppet on strings.

“My apologies, my Lords. I lost track of time.” The words rolled out automatically, perfectly timed and perfectly pleasant, “Forgive me.”

Azriel frowned. He didn’t like the change that had just taken place.

You held one hand artfully over your chest, the other flowing out to the side as you remained frozen in your bow. His eyes traced over the curve of your neck, catching on the sliver of skin that peeked out from beneath your work shirt, then down the slope of your sturdy shoulders and arms - strong and limber after decades of hammering away at glass and steel.

The High Lord of the Night Court waved off the comment, a charming smile brightening his face as he hoisted you out of your curtsy. If he cared about getting soot on his fine clothes, he didn’t show it.

“There’s no need for any apologies. It’s a pleasure to meet you Y/n. Helion’s told me much about you.”

You blushed, subtly brushing back the hair that stuck to your forehead and wishing you’d taken the time to clean yourself up… maybe wash your face properly and change into cleaner clothes.

“My brothers-” The High Lord swung his arm out in a slash of Night Court velvet, “Cassian and Azriel.”

You had to keep yourself from sighing. They were all terribly attractive. It almost wasn’t fair.

“The pleasure is all mine, High Lord,” You curtsied again, “And Lords.” You appended gracefully.

The High Lord was as sensual and charismatic as everyone said with his twinkling violet eyes and perfect smirk - the kind of smirk that announced to the world that he was very aware of the effect he had on males and females alike.

Your eyes flickered down to the tailored velvet suit. It clung to his body impeccably, carving out his broad shoulders and trim waist. How he wasn’t stifling in the heat was beyond you. The furnace roared a little louder, as if to push the point.

The Lord of Bloodshed - Cassian as he was called - possessed a wilder beauty. He was all hard-cut lines and cords of muscle with a faint brush of stubble along his jaw that suited him well.

But the Shadowsinger. He was the one you had trouble dragging your eyes away from. There was something heartbreakingly solemn about him, like a hero plucked out of a fairytale bound to end in tragedy. The same boyish joy that touched his brothers seemed to have skipped over him, and you couldn’t help but wonder why. In fact he seemed… displeased, and your heart began to beat a little faster.

“Call me Rhys.” The High Lord winked, drawing your attention away from the dark and silent Shadowsinger, “Any friend of Helion’s is a friend of mine, and I like my friends to call me Rhys. It keeps me humble.”

Cassian snorted, “Sure it does.”

He shoved past his brother, settling into a comically wide stance. You tried to disguise your surprise and confusion when he leaned down further to be eye level with you. His eyes twinkled with mischief, as if he’d caught onto the slip in your perfectly tailored costume and he wanted to rip it off and burn it to the ground.

“The name’s Cassian,” He held out his hand for you to shake, “Or Cass,” He tilted his head to the side, deep in thought, “Or Bastard brute, as my wife so lovingly calls me.”

You snorted, then froze in horror, one hand flying up to slap over your mouth. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

Cassian tipped his head back and roared with laughter. It was the kind of sound powerful enough to fill a tavern and made you feel as giddy as three glasses of wine.

Azriel tamped down the jealousy that flared to life in his chest upon seeing that Cassian was the first to make you laugh. Not that he would have been able to make you laugh as easily as breathing… but he could dream.

Your eyes were blown wide, confusion racking your body as every etiquette lesson crumbled into a pile of dust. Your mother had warned you of what to do with males that were too forward, too cold, too dramatic, too charming. But Cassian was a different breed entirely - he was too casual, too friendly and normal. It took you aback.

Rhys rolled his eyes. Leave it to Cassian to make a High Born Lady crack as easily as fresh ice on the Sidra.

Cassian tapped his chest, looking quite satisfied with himself, “There’s no need for bowing or Court pleasantries. Rhysand’s the only one of us with any real house training anyhow. Prissy little Lordling.”

“Hey.”

“You know it’s true, Rhys. You’re wearing fucking velvet.”

Rhys snorted, “Don’t attack me because I have some sense of style.”

You swiveled between the two of them, uncertain of how to continue. “Well I-” You stammered, taking a step back and straightening your shoulders.

Your mother’s words rang through your mind: Don’t slouch.

“Apologies, for my… manners.” You finished lamely.

“Good manners are wasted on Cassian,” Azriel said. Gods, even his voice was tragically beautiful, like the sound of rain drumming against a window, or the crisp call of wind when Autumn sighs its last breath and gives way to Winter. “And Rhysand too, actually.” He added, ignoring the sounds of protest from Rhys and Cassian.

His heartbeat picked up when your eyes fell on him completely.

“Are they wasted on you?” If they were going to act so… uncouth, perhaps that gave you a pass, “Or did I suffer through endless hours preparing for my debutante ball for nothing?”

Azriel tilted his head. He tried to imagine you as a debutante, paraded around to various suitors in a puffy dress like the gods-awful one Feyre had been shoved into for her first wedding, and it left a sour taste in his mouth. But when he tried imagining you in Night Court attire - something blue - he couldn’t help but find that he quite liked the scene he’d conjured up for himself. He smiled - a faint and quiet smile that made your heart go still.

Cassian and Rhys gaped when their brother quietly closed the distance between you two and bowed. He was the picture of grace - deadly, beautiful grace.

Azriel took your hand in his, reveling in the feeling of your calloused fingertips against his scarred palm, and gently brushed his lips against your skin.

“No.” He murmured, casting his eyes up at you. You melted, falling into the molten sea of his hazel eyes, and it wasn’t because of the heat, “Good manners are not wasted on me.” He finished, straightening up and taking a step back.

He didn’t look disappointed anymore. If anything he looked… amused and… at ease.

You tried to imagine him smiling - a true smile full of teeth and unburdened joy - and found you quite liked the image you’d crafted for yourself.

You tilted your head to the side, trying to disguise just how much he’d affected you. One kiss and a look and you were a goner. How silly of you.

“That was quite good. I’ll give you that.”

Azriel tipped his head in a subtle bow, “Thank you, My Lady.”

You scoffed. No one had called you by any proper title in centuries.

“Shall we begin with you, High Lord?” You asked him first out of propriety, missing the faint frown on Azriel’s face.

He knew he shouldn’t take anything personally. This was a business meeting first and foremost, but that didn’t stop the flicker of jealousy from budding in his stomach whenever you laughed at Rhysand’s teasing or whenever he leaned just a little too close to look at the sketches you drew. The only moment of satisfaction he felt was when you slapped Rhysand’s hand away from the wall, choosing to pull the samples from the chestnut shelves yourself before taking notes on the styles he preferred.

Are you ok? Rhysand asked, raising his eyebrows. It was Cassian’s turn now and The Lord of Bloodshed sat beside you, carefully watching your hand drawn sketches come to life.

I’m fine.

You don’t look fine, brother. Rhys said with a smirk, You look like you want to murder Cass.

Azriel wiped the faintest hints of emotion from his face, turning away from Rhys to look around the workroom.

Everything was warm and coated in soft orange light from the raging forge. It felt like the moment before the sun sinks into the horizon, when the world is as syrupy and comforting as caramel. Chestnut bookshelves lined the wall, filled with as many trinkets, plates of armour, and weapons as books. A long workbench ran the length of the room, neat stacks of paper punctuated by gleaming blades of obsidian, moonstone, and steel. It was where you currently sat, outlined by the fire like some angel sent down from the heavens.

Azriel’s eyes stuck on one blade in particular, carefully laid out on a bolt of midnight blue velvet. Its bronze handle gave away to gold threaded steel sharp enough to cut light and shadow. The sheets had been folded over and hammered so many times that thin rivers of radiance twisted and turned down the blade, mirroring the runes that had been painstakingly etched along its spine.

“Lord Azriel?” His head snapped to the side, following your lyrical voice. You’d soundlessly made your way around the table without him noticing and now stood at his side, “Do you like anything you see?”

Azriel froze. From this close up he could see the faintest gold flecks in your eyes, as though a forge was burning there too, some piece of you always hammering away at an anvil… but maybe that was just the hammering of his heart.

Cassian coughed. Loudly. Rhysand smirked, elbowing his brother, but Cassian was successful. Whatever spell had come over the Shadowsinger broke and color dusted his cheeks.

“It’s just Azriel - or Az. Either works.” He was technically a Lord… emphasis on technically. “Could you tell me about this one?” He pointed to the brilliant blade, hating the sight of his ruined hand so close to it.

You picked it up with ease, spinning it around your body with a strong grace that made Azriel’s breath catch. You weren’t the most skilled swordsman by any means, but you knew enough. After all, if you were going to spend your life making swords you’d be damned if you couldn’t wield one properly.

“This one,” You said with a smile full of pride, “Is Sunseeker.” The blade began to glow, content to once again be in the hands of its master, “It took me decades to figure out how to bind weapons to one master, but once I did - well - I thought if anyone should have that kind of weapon first it should be me.”

To your surprise, a faint smile graced Azriel’s lips. It was such a minor display, but it brightened the air around him. Even his shadows began to emerge, wrapping around his arms and inching towards you like a moth to a flame.

Sunseeker truly was a work of art, beautiful and deadly in equal measure.

Cass whistled low, coming closer to admire it. “How does weapon binding work?” He asked curiously.

Your eyes lit up mischievously, “Would you like me to demonstrate?”

Cassian had just enough time to say “yes” and stretch out his hands before you handed him the blade and he dropped like a stone.

“CAULDRON FUCK ME!”

Rhysand sputtered, doubling over in laughter. Azriel snorted, a hand flying up to cover his mouth in surprise. They watched Cassian fall to his knees on the floor, grasping the handle of the blade that felt two thousand pounds heavier in his hands.

You looked rather pleased with yourself.

Cassian growled, bracing his feet on the floor and pulling up so hard Azriel could see the veins pop out of his neck. “Fucking hell.” He said through gritted teeth.

“Come on, Cass. Get up.” Rhysand teased, shoving his brother with the toe of his boot.

Cassian kicked him in the knee, but from his position the blow didn’t land properly, “I would if I could, you son of a b-”

“Don’t talk about my mother like that.”

“Fuck you.”

“Just. Get. Up.”

“I. Can’t. You piece of shit. I can’t let go of this gods-damned sword.”

Azriel shifted closer to you, heavily amused as Rhys leaned down and grabbed hold of the hilt. His signature charming smile slid off his face.

“What the fuck-” He pulled once. Twice. Tried to pry his fingers off the hilt, but he couldn’t let go no matter how hard he tried. It was as though he’d been glued to a boulder.

Cassian smirked, “I told you.”

You smiled up at the Shadowsinger as the pair continued to bicker, stretching up on your toes to whisper in his ear, “Hardly anyone knows about what I do so I have my fun when I can.”

He fought not to shiver, feeling your breath curl around him as intimately as his shadows. Azriel chuckled - a low rumble in his chest that reverberated through your bones.

“And how many have fallen victim to your tricks?” He asked. His voice was as smooth as butter and honey to your ears. “Just three. Your brothers and Helion.”

“Helion?”

You nodded.

“I would have paid good money to see that.”

You grinned, leaning closer to him. Without a second thought, Azriel leaned in as well, as if he were a light-starved flower and you were the sun.

“Sunseeker is bound to me - tied to my magical signature and my blood. To me, she’s as light as a feather. To anyone else, she may as well be a mountain.”

“And why can’t they let go?”

“It’s another trick. If anyone tries to go for my weapon, they’ll be brought down to the ground and I’ll have enough time to kill them first.” You cleared your throat, “Not that I’m a naturally violent person but… well it doesn’t hurt to be smart about it.”

“I would agree with you.” Az smiled once again, “Incredible.” He whispered, looking you in the eye, “You’re incredible.”

You shifted on your feet, clasping your hands behind your back and looking away so he wouldn’t see how much his praise affected you.

“If you two are done flirting with one another, can you please help us?” Cassian grumbled. Rhys and Cass had both given up, opting to sit cross legged on the floor like a pair of scolded children.

You hurried over, muttering sheepish apologies. You’d overstepped and you knew it but… well they just seemed so casual with one another and with you that you’d forgotten they were highly powerful fae first, and your clients second.

The spell broke the moment you touched the sword, Cass and Rhys groaning in relief and jumping to their feet. You polished off the sword and placed it back on the table.

“Ta da.” You wiggled your fingers. Cass huffed and Rhys cleaned off his clothes with a sweep of his hand.

Az leaned down and spoke in your ear, hazel eyes glowing, “I think it’s my turn now.”

You shivered, feeling both small and powerful under the weight of his gaze. Azriel decided to forgo the chair, choosing instead to kneel beside you. One arm rested on the back of your seat, hovering dangerously close to your shoulder blades as you repeated the same questions you’d asked Cassian and Rhys.

You jotted down notes diligently and Azriel took the time to admire your neat and simple handwriting. Your hand stilled over the paper as a tendril of darkness curled around your fingers. Azriel sat so close that your head swam with his scent. He smelled like winter mountains after rainfall - crisp and clean like a breath of fresh air. His shadows had similarly begun to wrap around you like an Autumn breeze, slipping through your hair and around your neck like they wanted to feel the pulse of your beating heart.

Azriel swore under his breath, pulling them back as quickly as he could, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“I like them.” You said quietly, registering the shock in Azriel’s hazel eyes. You quickly went back to your sketch, “They remind me of home.”

As a final step you took their measurements - the length of their arm, shoulder width, the distance between their hips and knees. Measuring Cassian and Rhysand went without incident, although they did poke fun when you pulled out a stepladder.

“It’s not my fault you’re all so ridiculously tall,” You grumbled, stretching out the tape across Azriel’s shoulders, “Did your mother fuck a tree?”

The Illyrian snorted, “I wish.” He flinched once the words left his mouth, his smile twisting into a grimace.

“Hmmm?” You hummed curiously. Azriel felt your breath brush against the nape of his neck and shivered.

“A tree might have treated her better than my…” Azriel trailed off.

You’d been too young to attend Court when you still lived with your parents in Dawn. But even so, whispers of the Night Court were always followed by discussions of Amarantha’s whore and the Illyrian bastards.

His wings drooped and from the corner of your eye you saw Cassian’s gaze fall to the ground. Even Rhys bristled, the charisma sliding off his skin and replaced by something colder.

He loved his brothers more than himself, and the lack of a blood connection had never minimized the fact that they were his family - his legitimate family. He liked you, but one wrong word about his brothers and he would take his business elsewhere, no matter how talented you might be.

Azriel dared to glance at you, wondering if some part of you believed in the truth - that they were bastards unworthy of attention and respect in the eyes of true high fae nobles, or anyone for that matter. Even in your mussed up clothes you were radiant, carrying yourself with a confidence and grace that came from birth as much as it came from upbringing.

You were royalty… and Azriel suddenly didn’t seem worthy of your attention, even though he was craving it right now.

Your lips tightened into a flat line, anger flaring up in your deep eyes, but you swallowed that anger and channeled the energy into making the brothers laugh once again, “Well I’ll go down on a limb and tell you trees are fantastic lovers.” You said, followed by a cheeky wink.

Cassian turned to look at you, absolutely dumbfounded. Rhys was similarly shocked, violet eyes twinkling and mouth twisting into a smile. But it was Azriel who broke the silence first, tipping his head back and laughing so hard that his shoulders shook from the effort. The sound rang through the workshop, like the sound of rain falling. Cassian and Rhysand joined soon after, clutching their stomachs and leaning against chairs and tables for support.

You bowed dramatically, arms sweeping to the sides like a tropical bird, “Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all evening.”

And Azriel took that very seriously. After the sketches were finalized and the blood samples were collected to be bound to metal, Azriel hung close to you, quietly begging Rhys with his eyes to stay longer. They wouldn’t be back for another six months after this.

Rhysand raised his eyebrow knowingly at Cassian and The Lord of Bloodshed smirked.

“Y/n,” Rhys said, voice dripping with persuasion, “Are you hungry? Perhaps you’d like to join my family for dinner?”

You blushed at the invitation, “That is very kind of you, but I think I’ll stay here and work on these further.” You shook the papers in your hand, “I don’t want to forget anything.”

“At least let us bring you food then,” Cassian jumped in quickly, “Az! Why don’t you keep our favorite artificer company until we come back.”

Azriel blanched, stiffening up like a board. He could admire you in the company of his brothers when you were distracted, but he would be hopeless if left alone. “Cass, I don’t think-”

“Oh, I don’t want to take up-” You stammered.

“What a wonderful idea,” Rhys clapped Cassian on the back, all but shoving him back the way they’d originally came, “We’ll be back soon!”

The door hissed closed behind them and you blushed, daring to glance over at the Shadowsinger. At least he also looked flustered. You could find comfort and hope in that.

“I guess it’s just us now.” You murmured.

His eyes softened, taking in your figure, “I guess so.”

You spent hours talking with him that night, both of you leaning over the tables as you discussed your work and what your life in Dawn had been like. Your parents’ marriage had been arranged in haste after a drunken one-sight stand resulted in your brother’s conception. There was little love to begin with, but after his still-birth, whatever affection had existed between them vanished into thin air. You’d been born seventy-three years later - a true born noble in name only. Your parents never hated you, although sometimes you wished they did. Their indifference was a unique pain that you’d never been able to shake off.

But Azriel… Azriel was anything but indifferent. He hung onto every word like it was liquid gold dripping from your lips, and you did the same. Clutching what he said like pearls and committing them to memory.

You couldn’t hide your disappointment when Cassian and Rhys finally reappeared four hours later. “Oh.” You whispered, pulling your hands away from where they brushed against his on the table.

“Apologies, it took so long.” Rhys grinned.

He didn’t look sorry at all. In fact, he looked very pleased to see you and Az pressed together, sharing the same seat despite the empty chairs scattered about the room.

Azriel was less pleased and Rhys didn’t miss the faint frown on his brother’s lips as you begrudgingly reclaimed a seat of your own, nestled between Azriel and Cassian. He also didn’t miss when one of Azriel’s shadows curled around the leg of your chair and tugged you closer to him.

You listened to the brothers talk. Rhys and Cassian carried the weight of the conversation, as they usually did, bickering over lunch leftovers and proudly discussing the progress their mates were making with their respective projects - Feyre with her art studio and Nesta with her Valkyries. Azriel’s shadows shrank away, a glint in his eye dimming when the subject came up.

You stole a glance, watching him carefully. When he caught you staring you smiled and some of that glimmer came back.

“Can I see you again?” Azriel asked quietly once you’d finished eating. Rhys had already cleaned up the food scraps with a snap of his fingers and now lingered by the door, speaking with Cassian.

You looked puzzled, “Won’t you be here when the swords are ready? It shouldn’t take longer than six months. Maybe less. And I can still make adjustments then, if you don’t find it to your liking.”

Azriel shook his head, smiling softly, “No I meant before that.” He glanced at his brothers - his lovingly overbearing, nosy, matchmaking brothers, “Just us again.”

Your heart skipped a beat, tempo quickening after the momentary stillness. “Oh.” You breathed, “I would like that. I would like that very much.”

“Good.” Azriel took your hands in his, feeling the rough calluses of your palm against his scarred skin. He pressed a kiss to both hands, then looked at you, “Until next time then.”

Azriel could never regret meeting you that day, nor could he completely regret seeing you the next week… and the week after that… and the week after that. He burrowed underground with you, sought after the warmth of your home and of your heart like a moth to a flame, daring to brush closer and closer with every beat of his wings.

But it had been a mistake to visit you so often, and so brazenly. Here, in the safety of your workshop, he forgot there were fires that were not so nurturing and lovely. And he forgot that there were others who sought your power and not just your company.

Next Chapter ->

#azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar #fluff #meet cute #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #rhysand #cassian #azriel #the artificer

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milky-aeons · 5 months

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𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄

౨ৎ . . . he's always been cocky. It was that self-righteous bravado JEAN KIRSCHTEIN had which drew you towards him in the first place, like a moth to flame, too curious to look away. It was your own damn fault for getting burned.

warnings: swearing, sexual content, emotional dysregulation, reader is bad at feelings, Jean is no better, enemies to lovers, mdni, w.c 3.9k

𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐅𝐈𝐗𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍, at first.

A mindless curiosity. If you were being honest, what really piqued your initial interest in Jean Kirschtein was that ridiculous way he wore his hair.

At least, that was what you liked to tell yourself. On those nights where his golden eyes wouldn't leave your mind while you tossed and turned. Feeling your body heat, your skin stretching too taut across your bones, aching.

It had morphed into something more mind consuming, more tangible, at a speed and stealth you couldn't keep up with. You were always a woman who liked to have a decent reign on her emotions. In a world like this, where you had all been thrown into war and shattered beyond repair, it took only the strong to pick themselves back up and keep going. For so long, that had been your only objective. To keep moving. To never stop, to make it to the other side.

And here you were. The Rumbling had decimated over eighty-percent of the world's population, was the number plastered across every newspaper in Eldia. You had made it. There was no reason to push it all away now in favour of those survival instincts. And in its wake, all your thoughts left untouched, those feelings left unfelt, came roaring up to the surface with a one sure goal of swallowing you whole.

You were going insane.

The first time you had saw him since the War broke out, you almost did not recognise him. Standing there at a newspaper stall at such towering height. He rose above any other male around him.

When you were teenagers, you used to delight in the blush that raced across his cheeks when you teased him about his silly undercut, how it reminded you of the mane of a horse. He would splutter, like a wounded thing, and shout at you in a high, offended voice. You would laugh, and laugh, until his tanned skin coloured the same shade as the roses you collected in your basket.

Back then, you were just an ordinary towns girl, making fun of a trainee soldier because you thought them all the same. Stuck up, boorish, common things for a youth to entertain. You never knew about the frequent encounters you would soon find yourself with the soldier who graduated in the 104th's Top Ten. Who, despite everything he boasted, joined ranks with the Survey Corps and ventured where you could only hope to dream. Who would bump into you on quiet, serene nights as you returned from the flower fields, and offer you a suave smile.

"Never thought I'd see you again. You're still goin' round with those flowers in your basket, huh?"

"Indeed, I am. Would you like me to fashion you a flower crown? It would do well to hide that ridiculous haircut you seem to still wear."

The boat rocked against the lull of the waves. Your vase skidded across the wooden worktop, and you gasped, holding it in place.

You had become distracted, again.

Being one of the best florists within all three walls, and after taking up the family business as your father's prodigy, you were not surprised when a group of militants showed up at your studio a few days hence. Informing you of a campaign to visit the nation of Marley, and that your services would be of great use. Many ceremonies, they had said, a great many. We could use a florist's touch such as you.

And that was the day you saw him again. At the newspaper stand. His hair was longer, his eyes sharp and always cunning. From your workroom here on the boat destined for Marley, you were certain the smooth baritone of his voice had become one with the walls at this point, you seemed so fixated on it.

Insane. That man was driving you insane.

Huffing, you picked up a smooth satin ribbon from your sewing box and fashioned it around the bouquet you had taken longer than usual to put together. The first of many you had been asked to create for a cordial tea that was scheduled for when you first arrived there. Bittersweet, for truth, Calla Lily, to show justice, sharp pops of colour from Gladioli, for strength of their new nations. You sat back in your chair and regarded the arrangement.

It was the need to speak to the Commander about the debrief of events that sent you standing from your chair and meandering down the ships hallways in search of your company. It was not because the soft tongues of pollen from the lilies were just the same shade as his watchful, watchful eyes.

"Excuse me," You spoke after knocking on the door of the main cabin. Armin Arlert's cordial tone beckoned you inside.

All of the main players of Paradis' military were gathered around a small tea service; the Commander and his partner, Annie Leonhart, along with the strong presence of Reiner Braun, sitting at the round table. Armin smiled warmly at you when you introduced yourself into the room with a small bow.

He, was furiously fixing his long hair in the reflection of a wall mirror in the corner of your vision. You refused to look his way. Out of sheer stubbornness, you would not. To prove something to yourself, you would aptly ignore the soldier.

Yet you did notice how his comb suddenly froze in mid air when you entered the room.

"Miss [Name]," Armin greeted. "Can we help you with anything? Is everything to your liking?"

"Everything is just perfect, Commander." You said, smiling warmly. "I have come to tell you that I... have been within two minds about what flowers I should use for our opening ceremony. Would strength imply hostility to the already wounded Marley nation, if I were to use Galdioli?"

Armin tilted his head to the side, his golden hair sliding across his forehead. "Hm. No, I think it's good to be a bit bold, actually. I'll trust your judgement on it, [Name]."

You were surprised that you had asked such a convincing question, after coming to the cabin on a shaky basis. Feeling his eyes on you through the mirror, your cheeks pulled into a tight smile, and you were just about to thank the Commander, when—

"All this talk about flower crap, what ones to use, what ones to stick in your hair," Jean Kirschtein's voice piqued up, and you roiled at the way it slinked across your skin, how it called all your senses to high alert. He chuckled in a smooth timbre. "Really, [Name], you haven't changed a bit."

Stiffly, you slowly turned your posture until you could fully face the soldier in the corner of the room. He had gone back to his task of combing those auburn locks to sit neatly swept, his eyes not looking at you.

Connie Springer, who had previously been leaning out of the cabin window, turned to his comrade with an accusing face. "Says the guy who's been fixin' his damn hair the last hour. What are you even doin' that for, huh?"

In his reflection, you saw how Jean's lips stretched into a cheeky, heart-breaking smirk. It made the flutter of your pulse hum erratically, made every sharp remark you wanted to throw at him bottom out from your mind.

"Because," Jean boasted. "I gotta look good for all the Marley ladies we're gonna bump into, don't I?"

And just like that, your heartbeat stilled in your chest.

It hadn't occurred to you until then, how acutely tangible that feeling inside you had become for the golden-eyed soldier. When it had made that shift from curiously interested to all-encompassing, ravaging, when it had become a need of yours to have him in every way you could. And standing there in the doorway of that small cabin, on that boat destined for Marley, you had felt the weight drop deep against your shoulders.

You were in love with Jean Kirschtein.

It was a barrage of emotions, one coming in torrents after the other. Shock. Longing. A foolish, giddy elation. And then; anger. Brewing, boiling, furious anger.

You were in love with Jean Kirschtein.

"Miss [Name]?" Armin called you softly, his tone edged with concern. You blinked, coming back into the room, only to realise that every pair of eyes were gazing at you curiously. "Are you feeling okay?" He ebbed.

An impressive reign on your emotions you had, indeed. But these emotions were never there before — and you had realised that, all this time, this is what had been trying to rise up and swallow you down. Yet anger, you were familiar with anger, you could shield yourself with that and use it to escape, just like you have always done.

"Yes—Yes, I am quite alright," You smiled, but it was razor-sharp. Then, directing it at him, the man of all your desires, you said, "I have heard there are some interesting technologies in Marley, Kirschtein. One of them namely being the light camera. Perhaps, you should ask them to take a photo of your face, so you can stare at it as much as you want."

Jean's honey eyes went wide. Connie coughed, which turned into a deep throng of laughter that had him falling from the window and into a chair. Perhaps his comrades had joined in on the chortling too, but you did not stay long enough to find out. The moment the sharp words left your tongue, you had whirled around, shutting the cabin door behind you.

The scent of the Calla Lilies were sweet and cloying, and even as you cradled your face in your shielding hands, their pollen still found a way to reach you. Dizzying, half-maddening, just like your thoughts as they spun without mercy in your mind.

You loosed a breath and leaned up so your hands, still clasped, pressed against your mouth. You could feel each pound of your heart, as if it were a hummingbird trapped in its cage within your chest. Any moment now, you were sure it would burst free and fly far, far away. You wished it would. In fact, you wished you yourself could just burst into a thousand little pieces and soar through the cabin window and be scattered within the waves if it meant you did not have to feel like this.

Hot. Angry. Yet scared, upset, mortified at yourself and how you had exploded at him. He—Jean, he did not deserve such remarks. He did not deserve how you had taken your insecurities and made them into swords to fling back at him. Of course, you knew this, and that rational tender part of you wished to corner him in some private area of the ship and apologise. Another part warred with that thought, wishing to grab him by the lapels of his brown suit and shake him back and forth, screaming, furious that he was eliciting such feelings from you.

And yet, a smaller side of you, a dangerous, heated area of your heart also wanted to grab hold of his lapels, but only to rip and rend them from his body. Exposing his smooth, strong flesh that he held himself so proudly with underneath—

You stood up with the intention to pace around your room until you could will yourself to calm down.

That was when you heard the thundering footsteps outside.

They were quick. They were determined, rapping against the wooden floorboards that connected all corners of the ship. Startled, you felt every inch of you still, your senses on sudden high alert. They were close by. Were they coming from—?

The door to your work room suddenly flew open, the force of it strong enough to crack the door against the wall as it did so. And there he stood on the other side of it in all his maddening glory, his large hand outstretched from where he had impacted, his shoulders moving up and down with effort. Before you could even protest, Jean had invited himself into your quarters and slammed the door behind him.

His eyes, wild and stern, found you and locked you in place. Rudely, he jutted his finger in your direction and spat, "Just what the hell is your problem, huh?"

So taken aback at the sudden intrusion of the man you had just been agonising over now standing here, panting and furious in your bedroom — it had taken a second for your mind to really catch up. But when it did, your first reaction was obvious defence, causing you to straighten your spine and gawk at him.

"I beg your—!"

"Oh, don't fuck with me, [Name]. I think it's time we sat down and had this damn conversation." Jean snarled, the muscles in his cheek jumping as he spoke. "Ever since we were kids, you've had this weird hate against me, and I've never understood why. The hell have I ever done to you, hah?"

Heat was quick to rise up the column of your exposed neck and onto your cheeks. He was angry, you could see it in the way his eyes blazed, his broad shoulders bunched and tight. You mirrored him, your eyebrows knotting at what he had just said.

Hate him?

"Don't be dramatic, Kirschtein. I've never—!"

"Oh yeah?" He goaded, his expression mocking. "Bullshit. What was that back there, then? Or yesterday? Or at the newspaper stall before we left? Is that your weird sycophant way of being nice, or are we just living in a backwards world all of a sudden and I didn't get the memo?"

"We've always mocked each other, that doesn't mean I hate you—!"

"Well you damn well make it believable, sweetheart—"

"Will you please, just, calm down for a moment—"

"And you've been more prickly than usual, these days! Getting all riled up over things you usually don't, hell—you won't even fuckin' look at me anymore!"

"Well—that—that—!"

"If I've fucking done somethin' to ya, have a damn back bone and say it to me!"

"Jean—"

"And another thing—!"

"For the love of the Walls, it is because I am in love with you, you foolish man!"

The silence that cut into your argument was so deafening, you could almost hear it ringing in your ears.

Whatever angry words were about to leave Jean's open mouth died on his tongue. It almost looked as if they had been forced right back down his throat, he looked so strangled for air.

None of you dared say a thing. The only sounds that existed within the room was the echo of your laboured, angry breaths, mingling with the sudden inhale of air he took that expanded his chest. He moved his mouth, as if to say something, but nothing came out. His dark brows knitted together. He opened his mouth again.

"What... did you just say?"

It was like a bucket of water had been decanted over your head, shocking you into realising what had passed from your lips. You stood there, dumbfounded, exposed, watching the emotions play across his face. The anger melting into shock, which bled into a distortedly humorous confusion.

He took a step forward, and asked again, "Oi, what was that last thing... you just said?"

"Nothing." You bared your teeth at him. "I said nothing. Get out."

He was eating up the small distance that existed between you two until he reduced it to that of a few steps. On his face there was an expression you couldn't decipher, could not sift through the emotions which held it together. Perhaps the uncertainty of it was what sent you retreating until your back hit the far wall of your bedroom. Perhaps it was the shattering of your defences, your walls you kept up so effortlessly, that fuelled the glare you threw his way when you craned up to see him.

When you saw something simmering in the eyes that haunted you in the deepest, darkest hours of the night, you thought — perhaps it was the realisation between the two of you, that the shift from fun to tangible had taken place long, long ago.

"Leave, Kirschtein." You whispered, but it came out hollow, broken.

He narrowed his eyes, leaning down so you shared breath. "Do you want me to?"

Every aspect of him invaded your senses, made it so frustratingly hard to think, to breathe. With him so close, barely millimetres from brushing your nose with his own as he levelled your faces, you could see the smatter of freckles on his high cheekbones. Could breathe in his scent of musk and sea breeze, quickening your breaths, your pulse. Your fingers clawed into the wood behind, restraining yourself from reaching out to him. Because you were afraid that if you did touch him, that you would never be able to stop.

He shifted to press his hand to the side of your head.

"Do you," Jean murmured, whispering so as only you could hear. "Want me to leave, [Name]?"

Instinct was roaring at you to press into him, crying for a release to an ache deep within your belly that curled low and heady.

Insane. He had already drove you insane.

"Damn you, Kirschtein." You hissed, before reaching up to fist your hands into his stupidly fixed hair and crashing your lips with his.

There was a moment of surprise on his part, as if he wasn't expecting you to be so bold. His lips remained frozen underneath your own, unyielding, a perfect statue of human discomposure. Jean, however, was a never a man who was slow to adapt to any situation, give it in the midst of battle or when the woman he has been pining after for years — who, he was convinced, hated his guts — had decided to smash their lips together.

And this sound escaped from the soldier. Akin to that of a wounded animal, a tortured soul, it rumbled down your throat and you swallowed it greedily. Jean's hand flew to cradle the side of your face, pushing back against your kiss, his fingers steepling into your hair and craning your neck back. Your shared kiss started off as something chaste and unsure — releasing each other before coming back for longer, scared to stop for too long lest they woke up and realised it was all a dream.

Jean grew impatient, he grew desperate for you. In one movement he had snaked his hand behind the small of your back and hoisted you against him — almost short-circuiting at the feel of your body pressed so close, like he had thought about so damn frequently. Every time you passed him, every time he watched the strong swish of your hips as you walked through the market on a sunny afternoon. He'd bite his lip, he'd put his fist in his mouth, anything to distract himself.

But this — right here, right now. This couldn't be real.

And yet, he wanted more. He needed more, he needed you.

A moan tore up your throat when he tilted your head just right to deepen the kiss, his large hand fitting to the back of your neck. You felt his tongue explore your mouth, eager and willing, so ravaged at tasting every part of you. It occured to you that you needed his tongue on other areas of your body. Between your breasts, your thighs, you needed to fist your hand in his hair and tell him where to go.

You let out a small shriek when he suddenly hooked two hands underneath your thighs and hoisted you up against the cabin wall.

The ship rocked as you clawed at one another, unravelling folds of clothing and facets of bravado until you were just two souls, two humans, who had survived it all and were allowed to live, without fearing that tomorrow could be the last. He had fisted the ribbons of your working dress in his hands and ripped them in one pull. You gasped when the air slid across your smooth skin, now exposed, hidden behind nothing but a camisole that peaked where your taut nipples were.

Suddenly, Jean paused. He stared at you as if he were seeing you again for the very first time.

"Fuck," He gasped, holding you tighter, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of your sensitive thighs. "Fuck, sweetheart, I'm—do you—?"

You grabbed the knot of his tie and pulled him back into you, kissing him with a wild, chaotic passion that caused him to unfold underneath your fingertips.

It was in that chaos that he held you up fluidly to his body and walked you over so he could splay you against the work table — where the lilies and gladioli and bittersweets lay. He had shoved them somewhere off to the side, muttering something about stupid damn flowers and how they were always in his way.

And you had laughed. In that way which Jean secretly adored, as it upturned your eyes and made them crease at the sides. Like little curving moons in the night sky.

He shucked off his suit pants in a flurry of clumsy movements, palming at your breasts hungrily as he did so. You were driving him half mad with how good you looked, you smelled — fresh daisies and honey, intoxicating him, making his head spin. He splayed his entire hand onto your stomach and asked;

"You sure?"

Something broke inside of you at his vulnerable expression, always the gentleman. You sucked you lip between your teeth and nodded your head, adding, "I believe I will go insane if I cannot have you."

"Well, that makes fuckin' two of us."

The first stroke of him inside you was incomprehensible.

The second ignited your nerve endings and made you bow up and off of the desk, pulling you taut like a bow string and releasing you when he pulled back. There was something harmonious in the ryhtmn you two found, Jean keeping a hand on your stomach while he pushed into you hard and fast. At one moment, he lifted your leg underneath the knee and spread you wider, groaning ferociously as he buried to the hilt.

He kept going until he had fractured your universe. Until the little spots in your vision were like constellations. He was placing tender kisses along your body when you came back down to him, so raptured by pleasure it was hard to move. You could feel the pulse of him still inside you and he too, rode his release.

He swept your hair from your shining forehead and placed a long, lingering kiss.

"I said," You panted, leaning up to nip at his bottom lip. Oh, but you will have him again, and again, and again, until you made no use of your legs and the boat docked on Marley. Perhaps you would not even leave this room. Perhaps they would have no flowers for their ceremonies, after all. "That I dislike your hair even more that way, I'll have you know."

Jean's honey coloured eyes — dazed with pleasure — flickered to you when you said those words. Then, he chuckled, and you felt it vibrate against your chest and deep within your heart — where he had been, all this time.

He leaned down to nuzzle into the crook of your neck and said, "I love you too, idiot."

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot fanfiction #aot x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirschstein #jean kirschtein x reader #this was is so self indulgent ehe #also??? sat down to write like 900 words holy shit #this became a whole passion project #jean kirsten x reader #jean kirstein x reader #🪄— milky writes #divider by fireflygraphics!#‼️ — spoilers #💓 — thump

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running-with-kn1ves · 2 years

Text

Yandere Gangster

CW: NSFW, lap riding(GN reader), wounds/bruises, kidnapping, manipulation, gang activities

Yandere gangster who forces you to grind down on his lap as you're bandaging him up. What, you expect him to sit through all this pain without some form of relief? All he wants is his cute little victim spouse to make him feel good. It's the least you could do after all your hitting and screaming he's had to deal with since he "brought you home." You ask in disbelief how he could be worried about getting off after narrowly escaping being shot at. But he doesn't care for your protests.

Yandere gangster who threatens you without wavering, his beaten body only fueling his short temper. Maybe his buddies should get a round with you, as punishment for still having not learned your place. And that threat is more than enough to get you hesitantly inching towards his bloody pants. He already has them unbuttoned, black boxers hiding a bulge that pulses. But once you sit down, feeling him flex and poke from below, you're fully aware of how hot and bothered he's become. You try to focus on wrapping gauze around his bicep with his arm lowering to grip your waist.

Yandere gangster who whispers, "Move your hips" as he gently humps upward. You do as your told, whether more out of fear or out of the desire to get this over with, you aren't sure. But your kidnapper isnt bothered, too focused on the inpatient arousal inside of him. He sucks in through his teeth each time you pour antiseptic on an open cut, but he doesnt seem to mind the pain as long as you kept softly thrusting. He gets even more eager once his free hand pushes yours down towards his erection. You see the healed scars on his lower abdomen as his shirt pushes upward. They were sickingly familiar, as you had seen them everytime you were forced to "service" him like this.

Yandere gangster who you dont doubt would try to kiss you right now if it weren't for the bruises flourishing on his skin. You stare at his beaten face, a stream of dried blood down his nose as the cuts on his lips reopen when he bites them. Your hands become shakey the more he thrusts into your palm and against your groin, his bouncing legs making it harder to patch up his wounds. The sweat dripping down his chest, his slicked back hair now wild and free, it made him look more deranged than before. He was like a wild animal, starved and only interested in the meal in front of him. "Keep going." He huffs, and you aren't sure if hes talking about your work on his bruised knuckles or your hips that have been rocking back and forth.

Yandere gangster who uses you as the perfect stress toy, one that helps him get off with your soft body and oh so gentle fingers. His head leans back in the chair, lazily rocking upward as the friction becomes a desirable pressure. He cant help but feel he deserves this, after all his hard work and the time it took to get you here. Once you finish with the worst of his cuts and bruises, patching up everything to the best of your ability, you attempt to get off his lap. He's gotten what he wanted, right? A little pleasure to help keep off the pain. But you were sorely mistaken to think that would be the end of it.

Yandere gangster who lives up to his name, growling and cursing through his teeth, daring to pull out his switchblade the more you struggled to leave. He always had a short fuse, but today was no comparison. Waving the knife around he shot vulgar threat after threat, nearly nicking you. You didn't doubt hed cut you if push came to shove, having the scars to prove his past lack of patience. You still remembered how they burned, how he slid the blade painfully slow, refusing to clean you up until he got what he wanted. And so, what choice did you have? You only hoped that if you went faster, forcing him to come undone, he may end up too distracted. But you knew your captor, and wishful thinking never got you anywhere.

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billthedrake · 7 months

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NIGHT SHIFT

It was twilight more than actual dawn, but as I heard the sound of the metal clink in Dad's uniform belt, I roused in my bed and saw his beefy build standing by my dresser. Carefully, he removed his service weapon and placed it next to my baseball card collection and my trophies, then did the same with his utility belt.

My eyes took a second to adjust, but I could start to make out his handsome features. Roman nose, round cheeks, thinning hair kept military buzzed.

"Heya kiddo," he whispered when he finally saw me watching, sitting up in bed. Already he was unbuttoning and untucking his uniform shirt, the kevlar vest making his barrel chest even more pronounced beneath.

"Hey Dad," I said. I tried to be quiet, too, but my voice was groggy and my greeting came out louder than I intended.

Not that I probably needed to worry. It's crazy and would be impossible to explain to any outsider. But this was an open secret in our family. Mom knew, my little brothers knew and even if no one talked about it, there was a strange acceptance. Maybe because my parents fought less now. Maybe because I was the star baseball player who was pretty much tapped to get a top pick in the upcoming draft, straight out of high school. I was definitely the Golden Boy. I wouldn't say I was spoiled, because I worked my ass off for my success, but I got a lot of special treatment.

It was a ritual I was getting used to, the way Dad neatly hung up his uniform, putting it in my closet, next to my Sunday best blue blazer and pressed khakis. He wore Jockey style briefs that clung to his meaty ass and heavy genitals. My morning wood was reliable but even if it wasn't I'd have gotten rock hard just watching him.

Finally Dad turned toward the bed with a relaxed smile, taking two steps to approach, then hooked his thumbs in the elastic and slid off his underwear. My father wasn't erect yet, but his dong was getting firmer as he lifted up the bed sheet and crawled in next to me.

"Sorry to wake you, Nolan," he said as he scooted up against me, his strong hands latching on to my sides. "But you do feel nice, buddy...."

"You too, Dad," I said. My dick pressed into the softness of his belly. My father wasn't overweight but he had some love handles on his otherwise hard, regulation-fit body. I loved every bit of him and the way he felt next to me. My hands were matching his move, running along the hard lats and over his meaty ass cheeks.

"This is what I look forward to after a hard shift," he said.

"Tough night?" I asked.

"Yah," he said. Dad didn't talk about the stress of his job in detail, but I liked that he could confide in me. When I was a kid he'd always hide that part of his life from me.

Our lips met. Softly at first but I nudged his mouth with my tongue, and Dad opened up to accept it. He moaned into my mouth as he pawed me more greedily, his hands' urgency a contrast to our restrained kiss.

My own hands were feeling him up excitedly, eventually one moving down to cup his crotch. My dad was rock hard now.

"HMMM," he hissed as we broke the kiss. "You got me hard, buddy."

"I can tell," I said. The daylight was a little brighter in the room now, and I could make out my father's masculine, soulful face up closer. His body felt warm and the scent of him filled my nostrils. My fingers caressed his rigid prick, which jerked in my hand some. "What are you in the mood for, sir?"

With me and Dad it was 50/50. Not only the sex acts we did but who guided how we would mate. After a big game or when we got some extended dad-son time, I generally got to pick. But when Dad was coming off of a night shift, I liked to indulge him.

"Hard to choose," he said. His hand was now moving to feel up my son bone.

"I know what you mean," I said.

He gave a slight, serious smile. It was weird that I was waking up but Dad was tired but fully awake, having been up for a good sixteen or seventeen hours. "I guess I'm trying to say, I want both... you know, flip."

We actually hadn't done that. If I hadn't watched my share of porn, I might not even know what that term meant. But the second he said it, the idea sounded perfect.

Dad must have read the approval on my face because already he was reaching over me, toward the lube I had out on the night stand. This was another thing I no longer bothered to hide. Over the course of the last nine months, we'd gone from only fooling around outside of the house to only doing it when we knew we were alone to.... this. I heard the squirt of the liquid in Dad's palm as I felt up his soft furry torso. Then Dad pumped out more for good measure.

I grinned at him as he now reached between my legs. I had a good jock's body, strong and athletic but over the last few months I'd really gotten more into lifting and my body had responded well. Dad told me he was in love with all of me, not just my muscles, but I still enjoyed the confidence my new build had given me. And Dad's eyes seemed more appreciative.

The fingers felt silky and warm as he fingered me open.

I could hear footsteps in the hall. People were starting to wake up. Dad paused a second and arched his eyebrow. The first time this had happened we were terrified of being discovered. Now my father pulled his big mitt back, wiping some of the excess lube onto my hard prick before slicking up his own.

"Lift your legs, Nolan," he instructed. No longer whispering but talking at full voice.

I was so excited to do so, pulling my legs back in the air, only to have my state trooper father guide them to a resting place on his shoulder. I pulled the extra pillow and Dad did the rest to help me lift my hips to place it beneath me. The angle was perfect, and I clenched my core once I felt Dad's wet meaty prick nudge my folds.

We used to have to go real slow through this part. Dad took my cherry right after my 18th birthday, and for months entry felt cherry-tight. But the last month, we'd both hit a groove. I was still tight, as was my father, but he was able to work himself inside me without too much difficulty.

He was doing it now, his eyes on me, excited to be inside his son once more.

"I love your cock, Dad," I hissed.

He nodded. I didn't know if that was a nod to say he knew how much I loved his dick or a nod to indicate he loved my ass equally. Probably both. "You know, kiddo... you're gonna have to tell me if this is ever too much."

I shook my head no. "You always know how to fuck me, Dad. Always have."

He grunted. "I don't mean physically, Nolan. I mean the other stuff. Everything else."

The words made my cock thrwap on my belly. If Dad hadn't suggested the flip fuck, I would have been stroking my tool already. "Not to take away from the sex, sir... but the other stuff is the best part."

That got a big smile from him. He thrust in, completely, all the way. "That it is, buddy." Then another thrust. The emotional talk had keyed me up to take this, to want this.

"Fuck me, sir. Fuck your boy."

Dad's nostrils flared as he threw more strength into his fuck, still slow but very firm. "Oh kiddo..."

The only thing that spoiled an otherwise perfect moment was the nagging realization I'd be moving within two months. Out of my childhood home, away from Mom and my little brothers. Away from Dad. "You get so worked up after a long night," I observed, now running my hands along his furry chest. It was true, but my words were meant to egg him on, too.

"Cause I think about you all fucking shift, Nolan... you and your hot fucking ass."

His hips were faster now, his whole body moving in a steady athletic pump. It was exquisite. I didn't even mind having my legs pushed back as he leaned in some. "You and your amazing baseball jock body," he added.

"I'm gonna get bigger," I hissed.

Dad's body jerked to a stop, and I thought for a second he was cumming. But he bit lip and slowly slid out of me, pulling my ankles off his meaty delts and letting my legs down. His prick was super slick, from his frothy precum as much as from the lube, and I watched how it was immobile like a tire iron as he scooted up and straddled my waist.

Already he was half twisting, half leaning back to grip my slick cock and guide it into place.

"There," he hissed as he made contact. A second later he was already sitting down on me.

"Oh fuck, Dad," I grunted. "You feel so incredible."

Dad had a determined look as he made himself relax so he could work more of my dick into him. After about thirty seconds, though he'd worked his way down most of me. He paused, then started riding his hips up and down. "Your daddy's so horny, Nolan," he grunted. The bed was squeaking and our voices were louder. There's no way somebody wasn't hearing us fuck.

"Me too, sir," I growled, my hands gripping his hard, hairy thighs. Imagining fucking him in his uniform one shift. We'd done that once, and the memory still got me going.

"You're always horny, stud. Daddy's sex-addict boy."

"You know it," I said, now thrusting up into him as much as he was riding me. It all felt too good. "I don't know if I can last long... if you wanna flip some more."

"Let it go, son. Let that cum go right up my fucking ass."

It did. The orgasm was pretty intense so I had a good feeling Dad's guts were getting pretty sauced.

"Hell yeah," he hissed, riding me and milking me with his state trooper ass. He wasn't making a move to jerk off but instead leaned all the way back onto my crotch to ensure my dick and my load were buried as deep as possible inside him. He held there just a second then slowly rose off.

He leaned in to kiss me hungrily, then just as impetuously pulled back, nudging my legs up. "Pretty please, Nolan," he asked.

I wanted to give him this. The release, and the pleasure to match what he'd just given me. He knew it was going to be intense for me, so he didn't hold back. Sliding back inside my ass, he pumped me gently a couple of times, then just started moving faster to get off. I had a pretty good idea of the button to push.

"This is incest, Dad," I hissed. I didn't drop the word much, in part because it was so powerful.

"Shit," Dad hissed with an urgency that let me know it was working. He was almost cumming.

"Real incest," I repeated. "Deep incest."

Dad was whimpering now, in full orgasm, his face scrunching up and his body jerking as he pumped a bunch of his fatherly sperm into me.

He was a little sweaty and a lot tired when he dismounted. "That was incredible, Nolan," he said, reaching down to ruffle my hair and give me a more relaxed kiss. "Thanks."

I grinned. "Keeps getting better, huh?"

Dad looked back at me with a dreamy expression, his body now lying beside mine, his hands on my waist. "Somehow... yeah, it does."

I felt him up too. "I should probably get ready for school," I said, regret in my voice.

"Definitely," Dad said. "Another kiss."

We didn't rush this one, but I finally got the will power to pull back. "All right," I said.

"I'll text you later," he said. His voice definitely sleepy now. I watched him pull the covers up over his burly, hairy body and turn away from the light of the bedroom window.

I slid out of bed and reached over to pull the blinds down. I slid on some sweats and padded out of the room, shutting the door softly behind me.

#drakestories

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fleet-of-fiction · 7 months

Text

The Fifth Sin

Josh Kiszka // Genderless Reader

He likes to watch you do it. To savour every last drop of your mouth and the way it moves. You are his muse, his inspiration. And never more so than when you're being his little glutton. (Blurb)

Explicit sexual content Dom Josh/Oral Fellatio/Degradation/Choking.

The sequins shimmered against the outline of his hard cock. The fabric curved against the pulse which ran the length of his shaft, resting perfectly against his hip. Lithe fingers wrapped around the circumference, squeezing it underneath his tight little jumpsuit.

"I'd like to see that pretty little mouth of yours on this..."

Josh was standing by the mirror, his eyes moving between you and his reflection. Shifting his unbearable erection up and down to ease the tension. You tilted your chin, uncrossed your legs and approached.

"This pretty little mouth?" You replied, licking a stripe across his bottom lip.

You liked the weight of his cock. The wide girth of it when it was throbbingly hard. The way it lilted to the side at the most subtle angle, his head always pink and flushed with just the tiniest drop of semen.

But more than that, you liked the way he demanded your service of it. The way he beckoned you over with a sweetly poetic request, and then savagely sucked on your tongue whilst you pulled the zipper all the way down to his pubic hair.

"I dream about that mouth." He confessed, letting the jumpsuit slip down his marble chest. "Eating it down like the hungry little slut that you are."

The back of your hand brushed against his soft hair, fingers wrapping around his base as you pulled him out of the jumpsuit as it sat around his waist. His back was arched just a little, his arms suspended at his sides like pendulums to keep him steady as you sank to your knees.

"Practically starving." You mentioned, gliding the tip of his head against your flushed cheek.

The translucent glimmer of cowper's fluid glossed across your lips. Dancing the round edge against your mouth, teasing warm breath onto the flesh there. Josh was breathing in shallow gasps, his stomach flexing in and out as he peered down at you.

His tip was always overly sensitive, deciphering the textures of your skin into incredible sensations. His eyes locked on the way you pressed it against the flat of your tongue, tasting the salty texture of his pre-cum and swallowing it down so gratefully.

"Always so eager to feed." He observed closely, bringing a heated palm to your chin. "You know, gluttony is a sin?"

You held him in your hand, rock hard and solid as if he were trying to send you a message in morse code. The perfect symphony of his pulsating veins made your mouth water. The decadence of his tone making you want to devour it without any of the need for an entrée.

"Lust is a sin." You pointed out, salaciously rounding your tongue against his waiting head. "Or did you conveniently forget?"

He simmered at the sight of you. Barely able to breathe as you sucked on him like a popsicle, just the juicy head, never breaking eye contact as you peered up through lashes and the curve of his chest. His parted lips stealing the air, trying to remain stilled as you applied more pressure.

"You lead me into temptation." He breathed, moving his hand into your hair, crushing his fist into the roots. "How do you expect me to have virtue when I know what that mouth can do?"

His hand guided you a little. The subtle pressure drawing you closer, letting him lead you into an open mouthed guzzle that slid down your tongue and towards the back of your throat. You held firm, enjoying the sensation of him and the relief in his body as his stance completely relaxed. His essence flowing into you, tasting his sweat and cum and the scent of his hormones radiating off every pore. The scent that was entirely Josh.

"I don't." You hummed, tightly raking your hand down his shaft, pulling on the flesh there, devouring his head completely as you listened to him moan a falsetto note of pleasure.

"That's it, my pretty little reprobate, take it all down..."

He filled your mouth entirely. So much that the hollows of your cheeks were filled, your saliva building behind his length. He exhaled deeply, holding himself in your mouth whilst whispering little incantations of arousal. Weaving spells of desire as he clutched at your tendrils, waiting for you to choke on his big fat cock before he released you.

He liked the way you fought for breath when he pulled back. Admiring your tenacity as you hyperventilated on his dick, keeping your hand at his base and his head at your lips. Exchanging a look of high regard, his beautiful face staring at you as if you were the most incredible of delights. He made being a sinner so heavenly.

"You like that?" You asked, fisting your saliva up and down his pulsing shaft.

He angled his hips, rutting them back into your mouth, making you take him with a little more applied force. Just enough to cause you to moan against him, vibrating hums making his entire body shudder with nerve endings alight. Oh, what a breath taking sight that was.

To see him ebb and flow at your whim. His blood pumping fiercely because of your touch. The way he couldn't stop himself from watching you down there. Captivated by the way you moved him in and out of your wet mouth, sloppy and unforgiving.

"Filthy, nasty little thing... You know I love it."

He flashed you that uncommon smile. The one that dug his little cheek dimple out and was entirely filled with mischief. Like a plan was formulating in that cavernous mind of his. Erotic, sinful and downright dirty little seeds of thoughts that you knew would bring him to a riotous end.

"You're plotting." You said, gagging on him as he rolled his hips against your face.

"Shut up." He whispered, seeing the ease with which he glided in and out now that he was fully lubricated. "Just let me fuck your mouth for a minute..."

His strokes weren't violent. But weren't entirely slow, either. The pace was even, his breaths in sync. You let him do the work, let your palms rest against his groin as he moved.

"You know I love that mouth but it talks too much." He mused, delicately thrusting against your clamped lips. "You know I'm the one who likes to do all the talking. All you have to do is let me fuck those pretty pink lips. And swallow down everything I have to give you. With an appetite like yours, that shouldn't be too hard...should it?"

You found yourself shaking your head. Taking his cock with each turn, your eyes silently pleading with him to let you speak. You wanted to facilitate his debauchery.

"No, not yet..." He soothed, pulling out his cock to lay the flat of his thumb down on your bottom lip, pulling it down to watch a river run down your chin. Saliva and pre-cum making a merry mixture to paint your face. "Sinners don't get to drink the wine, just yet."

A little giggle escaped. You pressed your nose into the soft flesh of his belly, jerking him off in your hand as you laid kisses across his soft flesh and pubic hair.

"Please Josh, I'm thirsty..." You begged, "Don't you want to fill me up?"

He ran a cautious hand down his face, through his facial hair and down his throat. Inhaling a deep breath, his stomach concaved as he considered your request.

"Get in front of the mirror for me." He instructed, "I want you to watch yourself eat."

On raw knees, you did your bidding. Regarding yourself. Dishevelled hair and mouth. Eyes streaming a little, cheeks flushed red and your breathing still a little erratic. You looked a mess. And he was not yet done with you.

He came and stood behind you. His cock planted firmly in his grasp. He was still half clothed, his jumpsuit languishing at his thighs. Sparkling in the dim light, you waited for his next move. Anticipation flooding every single facet of your body.

"Open."

Your jaw went slack. His hand travelled up from your collarbone, fingers exploring into your mouth, his index sitting snugly against your tongue.

"Suck."

You clamped your lips around the digit. Curling your tongue against it whilst your cheeks buffeted the suction. Keeping a watchful eye on his pumping fist. Breath laboured and his nostrils flared, he kept his gaze firmly on your moving lips.

"Look at you, on your knees for me."

He hooked his finger into the pillow of your cheek.

"Gluttonous little slut."

You watched him pull his finger out slowly, replacing the space in your mouth with his fully aching and engorged member. He shoved it into the inside of your cheek, letting it sit against the soft flesh and the side of your teeth.

"I don't think you'll ever be satisfied."

You sighed. Already close to satisfaction as Josh began to pump his fist up and down. Jerking himself off into the side of your mouth. Not where your taste buds could catch him. Not where your throat would take a beating. But where the soft pillowy flesh of your inner cheek would covet his leaking head.

"Oh, but you'll let me lay out a fucking banquet for you every single time. Won't you?"

His words were peppered with the jerks of his arm, his pace coming more swiftly now as his eyes glazed over with unfathomable arousal. You could feel him dripping into you. Ready to serve you.

"On your heels, my little gourmand..."

He pushed you down until your ass rested against the back of your feet. Pliantly and comfortably. Hands in your lap. Never taking your eyes away from his sublime form.

He grunted melodically as he pumped fiercely into your mouth, tongue out and ready to receive him. You'd done this a hundred times before. Let him work himself up into a frenzy as he spilled onto your face and let it drip into your waiting mouth.

He liked the showmanship of it. The way he sprayed over your closed eyelids, white on rosy cheeks. The way you licked your lips and your throat flexed as you swallowed his cum. You let him degrade you, humiliate you. All in the name of absolute pleasure.

"Here it comes." He warned, as he always did, the only grace he afford you as he spurted, "Oh, fuck... I love feeding you...there you go... all yours...lap it up."

Breathless and perfect, you let him shove his softening cock back inside your mouth as his cum dripped down your face. The most beautiful sin of all, his pride, intact and glowing as you wiped a drop from the corner of your mouth and let him watch you swallow it.

"Delicious."

@takenbythemadness @katuschka @its-interesting-van-kleep @lvnterninthenight @writingcold @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @edgingthedarkness

#greta van fleet #fanfic #josh kiszka #greta van fleet fan fiction #fanfiction #gvf #gvf fanfiction #josh kiszka x reader #josh kiszka x y/n #josh kiszka smut

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captainkirkk · 1 year

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✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

ATLA

Divergence of Destiny by Fernandidilly_yo

This is his life now, here on this ship, serving tea with Uncle and the crew. Traveling the world and staying far, far away from the ongoing war.

The Jasmine Dragon is Zuko's home.

Meeting the Avatar does not change that.

It changes absolutely nothing.

(Until, inevitably, it does.)

Tea and Cakes by ghosteyes

Zuko is having trouble pretending he doesn't has a problem with food and through a series of field trips with friends, the gaang starts to pick up on that as well.

Wishful Thinking by mindbending

Right after Boiling Rock, Zuko found Sokka sprawled in his tent with a bouquet of red roses, and a ring of romantic candles, and one final rose set between his teeth. With the littlest twinge of envy, Zuko realized the entire display was for Suki.

The point is Sokka's flirting is about as subtle as a buffalo yak. To miss it, you’d have to be a complete and utter airhead.

Stranger Things

Down in a Dead Man's Town by holyfudgemonkeys (erraticallyinspired)

When Steve nearly runs over Will Byers on that fateful night in 1983, he doesn’t expect offering him a ride home would result in both of them being hunted into another dimension. Surviving there is hard. Adapting to normal life again is even harder. His old self settles like an ill-fitting suit, and there’s no room for nightmares and fear and his new bond with Will in it. As he struggles to find a new normal he can live with, Steve finds himself befriending a bunch of kids and maybe (definitely) falling in love with a local weed dealer.

BNHA

Overcome by redrobin1989

When Izuku accepted All Might's quirk, he never expected to feel this helpless again. Sitting in on the interrogation of a serial killer, he realizes that the past can't always be left behind. Sometimes it comes back and brings with it a body count.

One can either overcome the problem or yourself be overcome.

DC (Batfamily)

Conference Room 2B by motleyfam

And okay, fine, Tim can admit it: his parents paying off a school official to circumvent social services just to see him was sketchy at best—probably illegal at worst. They really shouldn’t have done it. Bruce and Alfred would be furious to find out that they had. Not to mention Jason, who would go absolutely apeshit.

But–

But it was also just really fucking sweet of them.

Tim hasn’t felt this loved, this cherished, this fought for and desired by his parents in years.

Doesn’t he at least owe it to them to hear them out?

(Three months into Tim’s foster placement with the Waynes, Jack and Janet Drake decide they want back into their son’s life.)

Another Mirror by byrambles

It’s over remarkably quickly. The winning Batman leaves the losing Batman on the floor, still and broken, and Superman moves quickly to tie that one up as Winning Batman turns away. Turns toward Damian.

His shoulders slump, and Damian feels numb. This is not his Batman.

Anton Syndrome by Anonymous

Tim's parents have been away for six months and counting—the longest he's ever been left alone at one time—and it's starting to have some unpleasant side effects. Luckily, he has a solution.

OR, the one where Tim attempts prostitution to cure his touch starvation. His plan goes wrong pretty much from step one, but it all works out for the better.

DC/Danny Phantom

I Just Wanna Talk by foldingfacets

John Constantine beat the system of life and death until it fully refused to touch him anymore, and when it did, it never went well. It was a fact that the League had come to terms with, or those that knew, anyways. None of Constantine’s past could explain the kid in fuzzy pajamas that was curled up on a chair in the Justice League’s control room asking for the elusive brit.

Danny had barely made it to high school graduation only to be thrust into dealing with the millennia of bullshit waiting ever so patiently for the King of the Infinite Realms to look at. The fact that there was a weird amount of paperwork filed regarding some dude named John Constantine that looked like the weirdest form of tax fraud he’d ever seen was puzzling, and his parents committed that regularly. He has no idea what the hell he’s looking at.

Alternately: Danny is the inter-dimensional personification of the IRS for Death and the Unliving, and he just has a couple questions.

#happy weekend everyone #weekly fic round up #my posts #fic recs #stranger things recs #dc recs #bnha recs #atla recs

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footprintsinthesxnd · 2 years

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Next thing you know

Pairings: Hangman x reader

Thank you so much @imjess-themess for proofreading this for me.

Summary: The story of Jake Seresin falling in love.

This fic was inspired by a song called ‘Next Thing You Know’ by Jordan Davis and as soon as I heard it I couldn’t get the image of Jake out of my head so here it is.

Part 2

‘You meet a girl in a bar and next thing you know’

The Hard deck was packed when you walked in after Natasha. “Come on (y/n), I can see them.” She grabbed your hand, pulling you through the crowds of people to the back of the room, where there was a large group of aviators huddled around a pool table. You recognised one of them as Bob, Nat’s backseater, who waved at you before realising he’d thrown half a cup of peanuts down himself. You smiled awkwardly at him as his round cheeks became dusted with pink. You had a soft spot for poor Bob.

“Well look who we have here. If it ain’t Phoenix,” a blond man stood with a pool stick in hand smiling over at them. “And you bought a friend too huh.”

“Leave her alone Hangman, she just moved here and she doesn’t need the likes of you trying to pounce on her.”

Hangman held his hands up in mock surrender, “As if I would,” he said innocently but you could tell that he was already plotting a way to talk to you.

“Everyone this is (y/n), she just moved here last week. She's the new Top Gun naval engineer.” A small wave of hellos passed through the group and you gave them all a small wave before they continued their game. You took a seat next to Bob while Nat went to grab some beers. “So how's your first week been,” Bob asked, pushing his glasses up his nose nervously.

“Umm yeah, it's been ok. Still trying to unpack everything, you know?” Bob nodded in agreement, before turning back to his cup of peanuts. You were watching the other aviators' game when you felt someone’s presence next to you. looking up you came face to face with Hangman. “Jake Seresin at your service.” You held his large hand out to you with a gleaming smile on his face.

“(Y/n),” you replied shyly, trying to avoid eye contact with the very attractive man in front of you. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh no darling, the pleasure is all mine.”

‘There’s a U-Haul trailer, next thing you know’

“Jesus darling, how many more boxes have you got,” Jake asked, coming through the front door into the kitchen where you were trying to fit everything into a cupboard.

“Not that much more, I only bought the essentials as you said you had everything.”

Jake laughed, placing the box on the kitchen counter and coming around to face you. He cradled your face in his hands and he leaned down to place a delicate kiss on your lips. He moved your hands up to tangle into his blonde hair and he let out a moan as you tugged on it softly.

“Oi love birds,” Rooster shouted from the doorway, “Are you gonna help unload this stuff or not?” You laughed and Jake smiled down at you, stroking your cheek softly.

“We’re coming, Roo, don’t worry.”

‘Next thing you know

You're savin' money like never before, just to

Spend it all at a jewellery store’

“I don’t know Roo. There are just so many to choose from. I don’t know which one (y/n) will want.” Jake sighed, slumping down on the car in the third jewellery store they’d been to.

Rooster looked sympathetically down at his fellow aviator. He’d never seen Jake so distressed before.

“Listen man, I know you want to pick the most perfect one, but honestly (y/n) isn’t the type of girl who wants a giant rock, she just wants you. Look at these over here, they are simple but elegant and (y/n) likes silver jewellery.”

He pulled Jake up off the chair and guided him towards the counter.

“Look, what about that one? It’s small and simple but it’s elegant and pretty.” Rooster looked at the other man questioningly.

“Umm yeah, actually I like that one. Do you think that’s the one?”

“I think it might be buddy. Do you think (y/n) will like it?”

“Yeah, I hope so. God, I just hope she says yes,” Jake’s eyes were filled with worry as he turned to his friend.

“You have nothing to worry about Jake, she is besotted with you.”

The evening had gone smoothly, you’d been out to dinner, and had a lovely walk along the beach and you were currently seated on the sand, watching the sunset. Jake had been acting strange all evening. He was nervous, you could see the sweat trickling down his forehead and his eyes couldn’t meet yours.

“Honey, what’s wrong,” you placed your hand on top of his and he jumped slightly at the contact.

“Umm…nothing… I” he stammered. Jake Seresin was never nervous, he always kept his cool but not tonight. “(Y/n) there’s uh… there’s something I want to ask you and I’ve been trying to find the perfect moment and… oh god I’m so nervous,” he laughed and stood up still not facing you. You sat there confused as you watched your boyfriend pace up and down in front of you.

“(Y/n) I never really was a love-at-first-sight kind of guy, I was never really a falling-in-love kind of guy. I’d never really had a serious relationship, and I’d certainly never lived with anyone but umm…. but when I met you everything changed. I wanted to be the man who was always there, who could be relied on. I wanted to be the guy that you always wanted to come home to. Who you could tell your secrets and fears to so I could make everything ok. I want to be that man for the rest of my life (y/n). I want to be that man for you. So I guess what I’m trying to say is…'' he stopped pacing and knelt in front of you, pulling a ring box from his pocket.

“What I’m trying to say is (y/n) will you make me the happiest man in the world and become my wife?”

You sat there, too shocked to speak, tears streaming down your face. Slowly, you lent forward, nodding frantically as you threw your arms around Jake’s neck.

“Umm darling I’m gonna need you to use your words,” Jake mumbled into your hair. You drew away quickly.

“Oh yes. God yes. 100% yes Jake! I love you so much.”

Jake beamed from ear to ear and laughed happily, slipping the delicate ring onto your finger.

“I love you too darling.”

‘Next thing you know

Your best man gives a half-drunk speech’

“And so yeah… that’s how Jake got his callsign.” Bradley slurred drunkenly, raising his glass of Prosecco into the air as he swayed wildly. Bob and Fanboy had hold of him on either side to stop him from falling.

Everyone laughed and Jake’s face was bright red, embarrassed that Bradley had just shared one of his biggest secrets. You laughed beside your husband. Husband. You couldn’t quite believe that this perfect man beside you was your husband, that he had chosen you. As if Jake knew what you were thinking he linked his hand with yours.

“You look, perfect darling. You're so beautiful. I don’t know how I got so lucky.” You smiled up at him before pressing a delicate kiss to his lips.

“Well, I think I’m the lucky one. I don’t know how I ended up with this hunk of an aviator but I'm so glad I did.” Jake pressed a loving kiss on your forehead and you shut your eyes, enjoying his warm embrace.

“I love you,” Jake whispered.

“I love you too.” Your peaceful moment was soon interrupted by Phoenix shouting for help as she disappeared after a very drunk Bradley who jumped around singing ‘Great Balls of Fire’. Jake sighed “Why do I always have to deal with a drunk Rooster? It’s always me.” He moaned, standing up from his chair. “Duty calls.”

You laughed, “ Go get ‘em handsome.” Smiling you watch your husband head over to your friends. At that moment you thought to yourself, you’d never really mentioned children to Jake before but he would make an amazing father.

‘Next thing you know

There's a test on the counter’

The test had been sitting on the bathroom side for half an hour now and you still couldn’t bring yourself to look. You were sitting on the bed next to Jake, hands interlocked as you both stared at the bathroom door.

“Darling, I think we should look. We need to know ok.” He rubbed a soothing circle on your lower back. You swallowed and nodded at him.

“You look. I’m too nervous… I can’t…” Your voice broke and a few tears trickled down your cheek. Jake caught them with this thumb as he held the side of your face. “It’s going to be ok love. Whatever the test shows it’s going to be ok.” With that he stood up and walked slowly into the bathroom, retrieving the test from the counter and slowly turning it over in his palm. You watched his face intently for any sign of a change and when he turned to you he had a bright smile on his face and tears filled his green eyes. “Baby it’s positive.” You looked at him shocked as he hurried over to you, placing the white stick into your palm. You looked down, hands shaking as you saw it, that little pink plus. Your breathing increased, hands continued to shake as you turned to your husband. “It’s… it’s positive… I’m… we’re having a baby Jake… we’re having a baby.”

“Yes, we are,” Jake sobbed, pulling you into him as you both cried. “We’re going to be parents.” He cried into your shoulder and you held him close, you were now comforting him. “We are Jake, we are.” You both held each other for a long time and by the time you finally let go it had become dark outside. “First thing tomorrow we need to go to the doctor, I wanna get one of those little picture things to show the Dagger Squad.” Jake began reeling off all the things we’d have to do and things we would need.

“Jake. Jake just calm down, baby. Ok. It’s ok we can do this, let's just take things slow. Tomorrow we can go for a scan and get a sonogram.”

“Ok,” Jake replied, grinning like a madman. “Thank you so much.” He said before pulling you in for another hug. “Thank you.”

‘Cause next thing you know

You're wearing scrubs and a funny white hat and the

Doctor's sayin', how you doin' there dad’

Your entire pregnancy has gone smoothly. The baby had been growing well and you’d had little discomfort with very little morning sickness. Jake kept telling you how much you were growling and he loved you more and more each day. You had everything planned and your hospital bag packed but your baby had other ideas. You’d had cramps all evening and Jake had been rubbing your back and giving you hot water bottles to try and help. You’d both gone to bed early but you were woken in the early hours of the morning in agony. You groaned, propping yourself up and that’s when you felt the wetness between your legs, pulling back the covers you were met with a scene from a horror film. There was blood all down your legs and all over the sheets. “Jake!” You grabbed his shoulder, shaking it violently. “Jake please,” you sobbed, shaking your husband as he woke up with a start.

“Darling? Darling, what’s wrong?” He looked down at you and his face beams deathly white. “Oh shit. Darling, we gotta get you to the hospital. Come on.” He helped you up and out to the car, before grabbing the hospital bag. You must have broken every traffic law on the way to the hospital.

You were crying in agony when you got to the hospital and Jake carried you from the car and into the lobby. As soon as you were in the hospital it was like a whirlwind. There were doctors and nurses everywhere and the pain was getting worse. Jake was there throughout, smoothing the hair across your head and whispering comforting words in your ear. At one point one of the doctors took Jake out of the room and it seemed like an eternity until they returned. You found yourself becoming more tired and you were fighting to keep your eyes open. You could hear the heartbeat monitor beside you slowing slightly and Jake’s voice in the distance before everything went black.

It was something from Jake’s worst nightmare. He’d read up on all the things that could go wrong throughout pregnancy but he never thought it would happen to you. As soon as you crashed he was ushered out of the room by a nurse and forced to sit in the waiting room as he watched more and more staff flood into your room. Not long after a doctor came out and explained that you had hemorrhaged and was thrusting a consent form for a c- section under his nose. Jake was frozen to the spot as the doctor explained all the risks but he didn’t have a choice. It was your only choice and he wasn’t about to let you die. He signed it quickly before passing it back to the doctor.

“You have to save them please.” He could feel tears streaming down.

“We will do our best.” Was all the doctor said before walking down the corridor. Jake broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. He could lose you, he couldn’t lose either of you. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled the number of the only person he could think of.

“Hey Jake what’s up? It’s pretty early man, what are you doing up?”

“I… I need you. Something wrong with (y/n)… the baby… I.”

“Hey, hey man slow down. Where are you?” Rooster asked, adrenaline running through his veins.

“We’re Umm… we’re at the hospital.”

“I’m on my way. Ok. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Jake hung up without replying and sat there in silence. There was nothing else he could do except sit and wait. When Bradley arrived the tears came flooding again and he held Jake in his arms, trying to comfort him. He’d sent a message to Phoenix on the way over here and she said she’d pass the news on to the rest of the Dagger Squad. They all pulled together during (y/n)’s pregnancy and had become a support net for the couple so they were all feeling the same fear Jake was.

They couldn’t lose (y/n) and the baby.

It felt like hours they had sat in the waiting room before eventually, the doctor came to see them. He explained that (y/n)’s condition was stable and so was the baby. They were both going to be ok. He allowed both men into your room although you were still recovering from the anaesthetic.

Jake couldn’t believe his eyes when he walked in. You were so very pale and your eyes were still closed. “Oh baby,” Jake rushed to your side, cradling your face in his hands as he kissed your forehead. Tears began to flow down his cheeks again. “I’m so sorry, love. I’m so sorry.”

“Mr. Seresin?” One of the nurses was standing in the doorway with a small white bundle in her arms. “I thought you’d like to meet your son.”

“My…my son? I have a son?” Jake stammered, stumbling towards the door.

“Yes, you do. You have a son. Would you like to take a seat and then you can hold him?”

Jake wordlessly sat in the chair beside your bed and the nurse placed the small bundle into his arms before leaving the room. Looking down Jake could see the tiny little human wriggling around in his blanket. He had his eyes and your nose and a small dusting of blonde hair on his head. “He’s perfect,” Jake whispered and Rooster made his way over to his friend, peeking over his shoulder. “Oh, Jake, he's beautiful. He looks just like you guys.”

Jake nodded, silently taking in his son's appearance. The two men didn’t notice as you stirred beside them. Your eyes fluttered open and you took in your surroundings. The pain you felt earlier was now just a dull ache, although you felt sore across your lower abdomen. You turned to your side and couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Your husband was sitting, tears in his eyes, smiling down at a small white bundle, while Bradley was standing beside him with the same look of awe on his face. You coughed lightly and the two men looked up at you. “Oh, darling, you're awake.” Jake handed the baby over to Bradley, who stood awkwardly, trying to support his head.

“Oh, god love. You gave me such a fright, I thought I’d lost you.” Jake’s eyes shone with tears and you reached up your hand, cradling his face. “You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.” You laughed.

“Don’t worry darling, I never want to get rid of you. I love you so much. I…” He began when there was a soft cry from behind you. You both looked around at Bradley who was grinning excitedly. “(Y/n) there’s someone here who's very keen to meet you.” Jake helped prop you up with the pillows, as Bradley slowly bought your son over.

“Oh, Jake, they're beautiful.” You said as the child was lowered into your arms.

“Yes, he is.” Jake agreed.

“He? Do we have a son? Jake, we have a baby boy. Hi little guy I’m your mummy.”

“You certainly know how to make an entrance little man.”

The couple looked so comfortable, cuddled up together with their newborn. Bradley snapped a quick picture before saying his goodbyes. He sent the picture straight to the Dagger group chat, who were all relieved that both (y/n) and the baby were ok.

“Have you thought of any names for the little guy?”

Jake nuzzled his face into your shoulder. “Well we talked about so many different names but after everything we went through tonight there’s only one I can think of.” You looked at him questioningly.

Jake continued, “well when you crashed and the doctors said you needed surgery the only person I could think of calling was Bradley. He’s been there for us through everything and…”

“I think Bradley’s perfect.” You grinned at your husband.

“You do?“ He asked, eyes filled with hope.

“Yes, I do.”

You both looked down at the little boy in your arms. “Hey Bradley, welcome to the world.”

Nestled in that hospital room was Jake’s whole world, he couldn’t see a world without you in it and now he couldn’t see one without Bradley either.

Tags: @callsign-phoenix @imjess-themess @topguncortez @blue-aconite @mayhem24-7forever @a-reader-and-a-writer

Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any of my writing or use the tag list in my bio

#top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #hangman top gun #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #topgun #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster

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thebiggerbear · 5 months

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Alec McDowell x Reader - Prompt Response - "I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

Summary: You're looking for a way to set yourself up and blend in after breaking out of Manticore. Having heard the rumors, you seek out Max for help. In doing so, you come across someone you had never thought you'd see again.

Pairing: Alec McDowell x Female!Reader; Alec McDowell x Female!Transgenic Reader

A/N: Prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting (#941). I have been in love with the world of Dark Angel and Alec ever since the show aired. To me, it's completely fascinating, and I really wish it had continued. (I was a big Malec fan back then btw; Lomax just wasn't my thing) There's so much to explore, especially with Max herself and how the transgenic community was going to move forward now that the public was aware of them. And of course, Joshua, OC, and Alec. Great stuff. Originally, I wasn't sure what scenario would best suit Alec based on this prompt line but I knew it would definitely be something that would apply to him. As far as It's A Wonderful Life, I was listening to the Christmas radio show they aired back in the 40's as I was outlining this one and the idea sort of came to life on its own. Hope this one's alright.

This is meant to take place mid-s2 and I did use events from the Berrisford Agenda episode (2x11) as inspiration for the beginning. 😉

Thanks to my beta @rieleatiel for her services. You rock, girl!

Warnings: implied violence; implied murder; mention of fatal injury; implied sex

Word Count: 8419

Please do not do any of the above. Thank you for your understanding.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

Alec Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

You made your way into the bike messenger shop, glancing around despite the busy, distracting din. Rumor had it that a transgenic named Max had a sweet hookup here, something a fellow transgenic like yourself could use, being on the run and all. You could get a job, make money, and more importantly: blend in; not to mention it would teach you the layout of the city, the ins and outs, and provide you with legal documentation to let you past checkpoints in case Manticore ever came looking.

So far, you hadn’t spotted the dark brunette you had been told about, and you didn’t sense any of your kind here. While a few people either walked past you, giving you a once-over as they did or stood there staring, all of them appeared to be human. Everyone else was milling to and fro, and you wondered if perhaps you’d been given wrong information. It had happened before so you were used to it, but this one you had really been hoping would turn out to be true. You could use a lucky break.

A man was barking out orders to a group of messengers before they dispersed, and his eye landed on you once they did. “You need something, Missy-Miss?”

You assumed the crankpot was the boss so you carefully approached him. “Uh, yeah, I was looking for—”

You were interrupted by yells coming from your far left. Your head snapped in the direction of the sounds and your eyes widened at what you saw.

There was the transgenic X5-494 backed up against the lockers, holding his hands out in a ‘whoa’ manner and giving the women in front of him his most charming grin; by the looks of their faces, it wasn’t working. “Ladies, ladies. No need to fight.”

“You didn’t tell me you were already seeing Lena when you asked me out!” One woman seethed.

“He asked you out?” Another woman, who you assumed was Lena, demanded. “I bet it happened right after we slept together, didn’t it?”

“He slept with you?” A third woman blanched.

“Tell me you haven't been making the rounds through the entire company,” another woman scoffed in disgust.

You shook your head, watching the show. Typical 494. Even out here he was still getting himself into trouble. By the sounds of it, he more than deserved the wrath of the women he was currently faced with, but you were still taken aback by his sudden appearance. Just when you thought you’d never see him again…

Before you knew it, the older man you had been talking to made his way over. “Alright, break it up! Break it up!” He forced his way next to 494 and glared at the ladies. “Shouldn’t you be working? You want your paychecks? Packages need to be delivered on time. Get going.”

The women grumbled and began to disperse, glaring in both men’s direction. “You just wait until later, Alec! This isn’t over!” 494 gave them all a sheepish smile while the other man scowled.

“Okay, okay! You’ve got deliveries to make. Packages don’t deliver themselves so let’s go, keep it moving!”

By the time they had all left, 494’s smile dropped and he seemed to deflate, gratefully clapping the man’s shoulder. “Thanks. I think they were about to eat me alive,” he laughed.

“Not on my watch,” the other man promised. “How’re you feeling, champ? You okay?”

“Yeah, no, I’m good. Just, you know…” He gestured to where the women had disappeared and bugged his eyes before letting out a nervous chuckle.

“You should’ve let them take a swing at him,” a brunette woman suddenly threw at them as she approached her locker, which was near the two men. “It’s not like he didn’t deserve it.”

494 let out a huff. “Thanks, Max,” he mumbled.

That name caught your attention—so this was Max. It had surprised you to see 494 here of all places, but it made sense considering what X5-452 had set up here.

“Don’t be like that, Missy-Miss,” the older man warned the woman. “There’s no reason to have that kind of attitude.”

Max shook her head and discreetly rolled her eyes, zipping up her backpack. “So what have you got for me today, Normal?”

Normal held out two packages for her to take. “They need these by noon, not one second later.”

Max snatched the packages and nodded. 494 stepped closer to her. “I’ll come with you,” he insisted, still seeing some of the dirty looks he was receiving from girls coming to and fro.

She made a face at him which clearly said that wasn’t going to happen, and before she could voice that, Normal cleared his throat. “Not a bad idea. You could show him the ropes on that side of town and keep him from the estrogen mob looking to burn him at the stake. He’s got that raw animal charisma working and it’s causing trouble.” This time you made your own face of disgust. And this guy’s name was Normal? Far from it.

“Whatever,” Max snapped and shoved a package into 494’s chest, hard. She turned and was about to leave when you stepped forward.

“Max?” You called.

Her eyes snapped towards you as did 494’s and Normal’s. “Yeah?” She asked, seeming unsure.

You knew she was sensing who you really were just like you could sense her and 494 across the way, even if you hadn’t just been watching them. You ignored 494’s eyes widening at the sight of you and the sudden tension in his body, making your way closer. “I was wondering if we could have a word.”

Max’s brows furrowed and Normal glanced between you, holding up a finger. “No visitors at work, Miss. You know the rule: packages need to be there by noon. Make it quick.” He turned and walked away, completely uninterested in whatever conversation you two were about to have.

Max stepped over to you, studying you intently. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours. What do you want?”

494 was standing right next to her, his eyes never leaving you. The surprise was still evident in his expression along with something else you couldn’t quite put a name to.

You glanced around, making sure no one was paying attention to you, before turning and lifting your ponytail from your neck, letting her see the barcode tattoo you had. After a moment, you spun on your heel to find her appearing a little more receptive to what you had to say. “So, you got somewhere we can talk?”

She nodded and glanced over at 494 before inclining her head in a direction she expected you to follow her in. You obliged, your eyes briefly flickering to 494’s, before he followed both of you.

Once you were outside in a semi-private spot, Max turned to you, her arms crossed. “So, who are you really?”

“X5-498,” you answered.

Max glanced over at 494 before addressing you once again. “How long have you been on the run?”

“Since you destroyed the base and helped 494 escape.” You nodded in his direction. Yeah, maybe you were still a little bitter about that. 494 looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“I didn’t help him do anything,” Max insisted, her nose scrunching up in what appeared to be repulsion at the very idea.

494 ignored her and trained his gaze on you. “I thought you were dead.”

You smirked over at him and crossed your arms. “Sorry to disappoint.” You noticed his jaw tighten and his eyes narrow at the jab.

“You two know each other?” Max was looking between you but neither of you looked away from the other.

“She was my breeding partner,” 494 informed her.

Max’s eyes widened and turned on you. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “He wouldn’t have been my first choice, either.”

He snorted and the amused smirk you were more than familiar with began to appear on his face, yet he didn’t say a word.

“Oh-kay. That’s not super weird or anything.” She turned to 494. “You had more than one breeding partner? Were you Manticore’s stud horse or something?” She looked grossed out at the thought.

494’s eyes briefly flickered over to her. “498 and I were paired off long before you got there.”

“But then, if you were already paired off, why were you paired off with me, too?” Your gaze snapped to Max who looked genuinely confused for a moment before realization hit her. “Oh, right. It was all part of your big plan to get me to trust you so I could accidentally kill Logan. Got it.”

494 shrugged unapologetically. “Pretty much.” He turned back to you. “Renfro gave me the mission and told me if I didn’t succeed, then that’d be it for me. I was already on thin ice with them. So, she assigned me to you, Max, and I did what I had to do.”

“And he left me to die,” you supplied, gracing her with your smirk.

His jaw dropped before he closed his mouth and pressed his lips into a thin line. “I didn’t leave you there to die,” he protested.

“Leaving me there to burn to death constitutes as leaving me to die,” you countered. He glared at you but you ignored it. You noticed Max’s eyes constantly moving between the two of you and you decided you’d get to the point of why you were here. “452, I’m here because word on the street is that you have a way of helping fellow transgenics like yourself.” You motioned towards 494. “I was hoping you might be able to help me as well.”

She looked taken aback. “I don’t have anything set up like that. As a matter of fact, Alec here only got the job because of Normal’s weird worship of him.” 494 gave her a smug smile which made her roll her eyes. “But as far as other transgenics go, I don’t really have anything in place to help like you’re thinking. Sorry.”

You nodded, figuring as much. You thought it had been unlikely but you had hoped anyway. All you could do now was remain on the run until you could find a place where you could seamlessly blend in. “Thank you for your time.”

“Just hold up a sec,” 494 entreated you, but you ignored him.

You turned to leave when Max’s voice stopped you. “Wait.” You glanced back and found her watching you, compassion twinkling in her eyes. “Maybe there’s something we can do.” She quickly glanced at 494 who was giving her a look. Max rolled her eyes at him but lifted her chin when addressing you. “I wouldn’t put you with this one because it sounds like you’ve been punished enough already.”

494 shot her a glare to which she only smirked. You couldn’t help but smile yourself; perhaps you would like this 452 after all.

“But I think I have an idea of where you can stay. It’s temporary and you’d have a roommate, but we can see about getting you a job and getting you set up properly. Logan can help, too, with papers. If you’re serious and you plan to stay, that is.”

494 watched you intently. You thought it over for a moment. This proposal was better than anything you had going for you right now. Hell, you would have even stuck yourself with 494 again if it meant you’d have a place to sleep and something to eat, safe from Manticore for a while. You gave Max a nod. “Thank you.” To your surprise, 494 seemed to relax a bit at your response.

She smiled and turned, indicating you should follow. “You’ll be with Joshua for the time being. He’s pretty easy to get along with,” she assured you, her tone softening a bit. You could tell she was fond of the guy she was mentioning.

“Joshua?” You questioned, looking from her to 494.

494 stayed in step with you as you all made your way out onto the street. He shot you a smile as Max retrieved her bike. “You like dogs?”

Joshua did indeed turn out to be a decent roommate. He was kind and thoughtful and actually a little funny. Truthfully, you hadn’t been prepared to find a dogman as your new temporary roommate, but once you found out about his history, you found yourself feeling compassion for his situation. You were glad he had managed to escape the destruction of the base that night.

Max kept her word and set you up with a job as a bike messenger at Jam Pony (apparently a couple of the girls 494 had been involved with decided to up and quit for some strange reason), which gave you access to all of the legal documentation you’d need to get past certain checkpoints in the city. She’d introduced you to her friends Original Cyndi and Sketchy, who would also turn out to be your coworkers. Normal viewed you as another hooligan he was forced to pay for standing around and not doing your job just like the rest, though despite his warped assertions, you actually did get your work done. You ended up going on runs with 494 and Max to get to know the ins and outs of the job. Outside of work, you kept your distance unless your help was needed. Max and OC had invited you to Crash a couple of times, but you bowed out, especially when Sketch seemed a little too invested in your joining them. You also met Logan and Asha, neither of whom you cared for very much; still, they were important to your fellow transgenics and Logan was helping you, so you kept your thoughts to yourself. All in all, you were settling into life in Seattle and beginning to blend in. And you avoided 494 like the Plague despite his couple of attempts to approach you and strike up a conversation, so everything was going pretty swell.

You had even found a new place you liked to escape to every now and then. You knew the Space Needle was also Max’s favorite spot—she had told you as much—but after a long day, you liked to get to the highest point and look out over the city you now were beginning to call home.

It was one such peaceful night when 494 found you.

“Thought I’d find you here.” He carefully lowered himself down next to you.

You didn’t respond and instead focused on the feel of the cool breeze gently blowing through your hair.

“I’m glad you made it out,” he admitted.

You shot him a look before returning your attention to the city.

“I am.” He rested his forearms on his knees and looked out towards the city skyline. “I know what we had wasn’t of our making, but it wasn’t all horrible, was it?”

You let his question hang in the air. No, it hadn’t been all horrible, but it was still a messed up situation you both had been thrust into. Based on what you’d learned about his sessions with Max, copulation hadn’t needed to happen due to the background plan. You and 494 weren’t so lucky after a while, just like every other pair of breeding partners in the facility. By the time Max was recaptured and brought to the base, Renfro and company were already starting to side-eye the two of you and wanted to know how you hadn’t gotten pregnant yet. Almost every other pairing had been successful or reassigned if they weren’t; you were arousing too much suspicion by your constant failure to report an impregnation despite your successful copulations. The truth was that you and 494 did what you could to prevent it from happening. You had no desire to add to the ranks of Manticore transgenics and neither did he, something you both had been on the same page about since the first night you’d been thrown into a cell together.

You hadn’t fooled yourselves. This wasn’t about love or any attraction you had for one another, nor was it even a fun roll in the sheets; you both would not have chosen each other if you’d had a say in any of it. This was all about science and genetics, and it was purely clinical. That didn’t mean that there weren’t a few moments here and there that you snatched for yourselves: a laugh here, a tender moment there, a camaraderie forged between you in flipping off the organization that had created you and controlled you since your first breaths. So no, it wasn’t all horrible.

Which is why you didn’t protest or move away when you felt him subtly shift a little closer to you. You nearly smiled at the action; 494 had always sought a connection between you, something that superseded the physical. You couldn’t count the amount of times after your sessions that you had both held onto each other: you still remembered how he would wrap his arms around you and pull you close, letting out a content sigh as you ran your fingers through his sweaty hair, scratching at his scalp in the way you knew he liked. And he would make sure every inch of him was still touching you on the uncomfortable cot suspended from the wall, before the guards were due to come back and retrieve him. How he would chatter away about different subjects, doing his best to engage you.

“I went back for you,” he murmured.

Surprise ran through you as you turned wide eyes on him.

“Once they revealed the base’s location and I was able to get free, I went back for you.” He stared at you, swallowing compulsively. “But by the time I got there, it was too late. I thought you were gone.”

You could see the truth of what he was saying in his green eyes, but you refused to give in that easily. You huffed out a snort and turned back to the view. “More like you were hoping.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him shaking his head. “I never wanted you gone.”

You ignored him and continued your ritual of observing the city, allowing silence to fall between you. Only when he slowly took your hand into his did you turn a glare on him and finally speak: “I hate you, you realize that, right?”

“You have a weird way of showing that.” He nodded his head towards your intertwined fingers.

You rolled your eyes but you didn’t pull away. “Don’t you have a harem to get back to? Or what’s her name…Asha? Now that you’re free to choose who you want to copulate with. You didn’t seem to have any issue finding willing partners before I showed up.”

This time, he was the one who snorted. “Just passing time.”

You finally did pull away, grimacing. “Ew.”

He let out a nervous-sounding laugh. “I just meant it’s all been casual. Nothing serious.”

You side-eyed him. “Good luck with that.” You got to your feet and were about to leave when he grabbed your hand to stop you, forcing you to look down at him.

“Y/N,” he murmured, using the name Max had picked out for you. It wasn’t your favorite, but you needed something to go on the paperwork for Jam Pony and the papers Logan was acquiring for you, so you figured it would do. Perhaps you’d even grow into it and it could be a decent identity for you.

“494?”

He shot you a glare. “Alec.”

Right. Max had named him, too. That was something he’d mentioned on one of the runs you, he, and Max had gone on. You had smirked at Max’s explanation of that choice while 494 had rolled his eyes.

“Okay then. Alec?” It felt weird to call him that yet at the same time…it felt like a good fit.

His thumb tenderly stroked against your skin and he watched you. “Just wanted to see how it sounded. Using our names instead.”

You nodded. You could understand that. All of this was new and…fragile in a way. Any moment you could be found, you could either be killed or worse — brought back to another base. However, from what you’d heard, the former was more likely to happen these days. Max had encouraged you to start thinking about what you wanted out of life, and so far, freedom was certainly at the top of your list. You might be free right now, but you weren’t really free, not with your captors still out there who viewed you as their property, to apprehend or destroy at will. You had a feeling that Alec knew that just as well as you did, no matter the optimistic picture Max tried to paint for Joshua or any other transgenics she might come across.

He tugged on your hand to urge you to sit back down next to him. You resisted for a moment but then decided to oblige. What did a few minutes more matter in the scheme of things? He snuck an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer. Had it been anyone else, that arm would have been ripped from its socket by now.

Alec gave you a small smile and leaned down to press a kiss to your hair, flooding you with memories of every time he’d done just that. Other memories made appearances, too: his sharing with you about his side hustle of trading things with guards for certain comforts, something he actually used on your behalf a few times; his laugh and kiss to your head when both of you had gotten a little too much into one copulating session, almost making the two of you forget to take your usual precautions; his promise of getting you both out of there together if you could hold out just a little longer; his expression when he told you that he thought Renfro had a mission for him that would keep him out of your barracks for the next few nights but that he’d do his best to see it through quickly and return; the last time you’d seen him when he’d exchanged a look with you across the yard before you and your unit were led away for more drills and testing, you thinking back to the worry you’d seen in his expression and since you didn’t know the cause, it created your own set of worries — 494 never let it show if he was ever worried or scared.

You weren’t sure how to feel about any of this. Yes, you and Alec had history but it had been forced upon you. Although you had forged some sort of connection during it all, it didn't mean that either of you were looking to continue that or see where it went on the outside—especially now that you were able to choose for yourselves. Still, that connection hadn’t simply ceased to exist just because you wished it would… Especially not when he was trying his damndest to restore some piece of it, right here and right now.

He lowered his head to meet your eyes and you could feel something familiar inside your chest squeezing a little bit. You told yourself that it had to be heartburn from the chicken stew you’d eaten for dinner earlier, and not anything to do with him at all. “I’ve missed this,” he quietly admitted. “Just talking and being together. Didn’t you?”

You gave him a look of disbelief mixed with amusement. “I don’t really think we did all that much talking as I remember it.”

That cocky smirk of his was back. “True.”

You rolled your eyes and he laughed. You enjoyed the familiar sound that caused more memories to wash over you. You would never admit it but the bond you’d shared had actually been the only good thing to sustain you when you were running after the explosion. You’d hoped that wherever he was, he had gotten away and was safe. You knew he hadn’t been in his barracks; you’d checked amidst the chaos.

Thinking back to that night, you rested your head back against his shoulder and stared out into the night. His lips tipped up in a small smile and he laid his head up against yours, following your gaze. You both stayed like that for the next hour until he murmured to you, “Come back with me?”

You turned to frown up at him. Was he for real? “Really?”

“No, not that, I just meant…” He ran his free hand over his hair. “I didn’t think I’d see you again and now you’re here. I didn’t really know how to ask you before without it sounding like that. But I want to show you my place.” He gave you a bit of a proud smile.

You considered it. It would be interesting to see what kind of setup he had going for himself. That had been something you had talked about back in your bunk at the base as he held you to him, his hands roaming your bare back. “You sure Alec’s groupies won’t mind?”

Alec smirked and shook his head. “I don’t have any roommates or regular visitors if that’s what you’re asking.”

You smirked right back and leaned in, making his eyes drop to your lips. “I wasn’t,” you whispered before dropping his hand and getting to your feet.

He got up as well, grinning over at you, that familiar fire lighting those sharp green eyes. “Just think: no guards to bribe, no need to keep it down, no time limit, no metal cot we both have to try to fit on…”

You snorted. “So you really are asking me to go back with you for that reason.”

“No, I really do want to show you the sweet setup I have.” His smile then turned wicked. “But if that were to happen, I wouldn’t exactly be against it.”

“Uh-huh.” You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, looking away from him. You did your best to hide your own smile when he wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his lips near your ear.

“So what do you say? Let me show you my apartment. I got a couch, a bed, a tub…”

“Ooh, a tub?” You pretended to be impressed though you weren’t pretending too much. If a tub was considered a luxury before the world went to hell, then it was an even rarer commodity now.

“Yep,” he huskily whispered as he brushed a kiss to your ear lobe. “All the hot water and soap you could want.” He trailed his lips down your neck, making your eyes shut halfway. “And I’ve got glasses, plates, a coffee table… I even have a stereo.”

You dug your teeth into your bottom lip when he found that spot on your neck that he knew you loved. “A stereo?”

“For music,” he explained, pressing a kiss to your jawline. “And I even managed to score some whiskey from years back, pre-pulse. You’ll love it,” he promised before nuzzling your cheek. “Come home with me.”

You stared out over the horizon, unsure if you should give in to what he was tempting you with. Before, at Manticore, the sex had been clinical and while there was a connection between you, given the circumstances, it made sense to stick together like glue. But now… “I don’t know if I should. We’re out now and everything’s changed.”

He spun you in his arms, his brows furrowed as he cupped your face with his hands. “Not for me. I meant what I said to you in there, we were gonna get out together, find some place to blend in, and make it work.”

“But we didn’t get out together,” you whispered, gently removing his hands from you before stepping around him towards the door.

He grabbed your hand. “Y/N.” You glanced back at his earnest expression. “I did come back for you. When everything exploded and I didn’t hear or see any trace of you, I thought—”

“I know. I went to look for you, too, once I managed to get out of my barracks.” His eyes widened slightly in surprise. “That guard, Hayes, he let me out. He said something about a deal you had in place with him if things went wrong while you were away on your mission.” You dropped your gaze. “It must’ve really cost you, so… Thanks for that.” You squeezed his hand before letting it go and making your way inside the abandoned building.

You didn’t look back; there was no point. When you thought back to that night, you remembered Hayes sneering at you as he opened your cell door, spitting something about telling 494 that he owed him something better than cigars and the usual contraband this time. You didn’t bother thanking the man who treated you and every other transgenic on the base as nothing more than freak science experiments that were less than human, and you booked it towards the male barracks, fighting your way through when you needed to. You would never forget the relief you felt finding the specific bunk you were looking for empty, that was then followed by the feeling of betrayal, which quickly shifted into acceptance. You hoped he was alive out there somewhere, whether he had made it out before you got there or he had already been out in the world on his mission. You had chalked up your time together as a weird yet not so bad interaction and kept running. You’d even seen Hayes’ dead body on your way out, his throat torn apart, almost as if that too was closing the book on this messed up chapter of your life.

And that’s what you’d done: closed that chapter of your life and attempted to move on, to do what you could to figure out your own life. You never expected to see 494 again, let alone find him living his life, a harem of women around him. It had stuck a finger into that particular wound for a moment before the blanket acceptance was back in place. Your relationship was exactly as you’d thought it had been for both of you: something that had been forced upon you by your creators and you both had tried to make something good out of it (just not the child Manticore had wanted). And now, it was over. You both were on the outside and it was time for you both to go your separate ways, figuratively if not literally. He’d done right by you in that last moment and you’d escaped, gotten free, and lived. What more could you ask for?

You were just about to scale down to the next level when his hand landed on your shoulder, making you look back at him.

“Y/N, come back with me to my place. I want to show you something.”

You gave him a look. “494—”

“Alec,” he corrected. “I’m not talking about sex, though if you wanted that at some point, like I said, I’m more than willing.” He lifted his hand to cup your cheek and he stared into your eyes, willing you to agree. “I really want to show you something.”

His thumb tenderly ran along your bottom lip in a familiar gesture that had always preceded a kiss before he left you for the night. A part of you hoped he would repeat the action but when he didn’t, you were more relieved than anything. Your body yearned for his—the familiarity, the comfort—but you still didn’t think you should fall back into old habits—it could only end badly, whether he ended up getting bored or one of you (or both) were found by your enemies. You felt incredibly torn. Truthfully, you weren’t quite sure what you wanted when it came to him.

“Please,” he added. “Come over.”

He looked so determined, so earnest, that you found yourself slowly nodding in agreement.

His handsome face lit up with a bright smile. “I promise, you’re really gonna like it.” He urged you to follow him, scaling to the next level down with you right behind him. You hoped he was right, and you also hoped you would finally get some sort of answer for yourself on whether to explore this new great unknown with him with the former Emerald City as the backdrop in contrast to your cramped cell or to close the book on him for good.

You had to admit, Alec had a nice apartment. It was bigger than you’d imagined and he had told you the truth: he had glasses, plates, a coffee table, a couch, a bed, a tub, the so-called stereo (which he turned on for a minute to show you how it worked), and the whiskey he’d promised. As you drank from your glass, marveling at the taste, you glanced around, nodding.

“Nice,” you complimented.

“Thanks.” He took your hand and led you to a corner of the living room where a box sat tall on some sort of stand. He released you to go over and stand next to it, turning to beam over at you. “What do you think?”

Your eyes roved over the box with a glass front, confused. “It’s…great?”

He gave you a look as if you should know what it was before smiling wide again. “It’s a TV,” he crowed.

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “TV?”

“Yeah, you know, to watch movies and TV shows, that kind of thing.”

You peered at it, wondering just how it worked. You’d heard of movies of course, but you’d never seen one. Did the images just appear on the glass when you turned it on? Was there something that needed to be selected or perhaps inserted somewhere?

He proudly laid a hand on top of it. “I managed to get ahold of it after one of my customers I’ve been selling synthetics to heard about some old lady dying nearby who had one. I headed right over to her place and got this beauty.” He smiled down at it.

“You’ve been selling synthetics?” Of course he was still hustling, even out here. In Manticore, it had been a necessity; out here, if it helped him get nice digs like this and set him up, you had to give him credit for keeping it going and getting creative.

“Among other things. Oh, and look.” He gestured down to another smaller box sitting in front of it. “I was also able to get a VCR. It took me a few months to get a lead on one of these, but I got it.” He chuckled and turned a wide smile on you.

You returned the smile, still unsure of what a VCR was.

“And the best part,” He took your glass from you and placed it on top of the TV before he grabbed something from behind it and shoved it into your hands. You looked down at the rectangular object and spied a familiar image you had only seen once before, when you were on the run from Manticore the first time. Your eyes widened; something you had told Alec about one night after copulating a few times and he was falling asleep, him tiredly rubbing your shoulder as you laid your head on his chest, one of the nights he’d bought more time for you both… The sight made the corners of your eyes sting, yet you forced yourself to keep the tears at bay. He had heard you that night even while nodding off and he’d— he’d managed to get his hands on it. “It’s that movie you told me about,” he began. “It’s—”

“--A Wonderful Life,” you finished in an awed whisper. You reverently traced the picture you’d seen a hundred times before Manticore caught you. You ignored the rips and stains surrounding the rim of the image and focused on the man who’d caught your interest in the first place. He looked happy, staring down at his wife, the two of them surrounded by their children, one hoisted up behind him and holding onto him for dear life. They all looked happy, which was something you’d never had or known. You’d never had a father, never knew your mother, and you’d never had a family, not like the one portrayed in the picture. Sure, you had dozens of brothers and sisters, but you weren’t a family. Manticore would punish you if any of you had even uttered the word. You were soldiers in training and that was it.

Still, this image piqued your interest and many nights, you found that you couldn’t stop staring at it. It was in an old theater, a place you’d managed to find while running the first time—the same place you took shelter in and eventually turned it into your own setup. There were other people throughout the theater who’d had the same idea, but they pretty much left you alone once you’d fought off the biggest guy in the group who had stupidly tried to take your food from you. Once you’d seen that poster, it created a yearning in you for something you had never known, something you never imagined wanting. You didn’t need parents and you didn’t need siblings, but you did crave family… Something that became more and more apparent the more you studied the image, imagining what that life would be like.

Which is why it was so cruel when Manticore recaptured you and immediately thrust you into its breeding program. Not only had they taken your life from you since conception, viewed you as their property that they were determined to see some sort of return of their investment on—now they wanted to take whatever life you could create from you and control it, too. You weren’t going to let that happen. As a matter of fact, you’d fought 494 off the first night they sent him into your cell. It had taken him by surprise because he’d thought you both were on the same page: you had orders. But he’d quickly learned that you’d rather die than follow those particular ones. He’d maintained his distance until a guard came to retrieve him, and as he’d glanced back at you one last time as he stepped across the threshold, you knew then that you were marked for death. A soldier refusing to obey and follow orders was no good to the organization and more importantly, of no use. Thus, it took you by surprise the next day when 494 confirmed the success of your copulation the previous night to your superiors which led to him being brought back to your cell later that night to continue.

From there, even though it took a little bit, you’d both talked and began getting to know one another. You’d learned that he didn’t want to spawn any kids for Manticore anymore than you did. Eventually, a bond began to form between you and of course, so did an attraction. The night you got hit with your first heat since being recaptured—thanks to a splash of feline DNA in your system, something you’d always been able to manage on the outside before—things had changed between you, and 494 no longer had to lie when reporting that copulation had been successful. Nonetheless, the entire time you’d been back in Manticore’s hands, you’d never forgotten about that picture and what you truly wanted: your freedom, a life, and eventually, family—happiness. You wanted to be happy just like the people in the poster.

And now here you were: on the outside, free for the moment, attempting to build a life, and this picture had somehow made its way back to you, right into your very hands, real enough to literally touch. “How did you get it?”

“One of Max’s fences gave me a line on where I could find one.”

You glanced up to find him watching you intently. You gave him a small grateful smile and you could see relief flood through his expression before he covered it with a smile of his own.

He cleared his throat. “I got it before you showed up, but…I never watched it. I couldn’t bring myself to. It felt wrong to watch it without you, especially after how you talked about it, so it’s been sitting in that case for months. I hope it still works.” He let out in a quiet chuckle.

You placed the box down on top of the TV and approached him. He watched as you cupped his face with your hands and pulled him down to you, your lips meeting for the first time since seeing him again. That all-too familiar feeling flooded you and this time, you didn’t fight the smile that made its way to your face. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” This time, he was the one initiating a kiss, and he snaked his arms around your waist, pulling you into him.

Only when you both needed air and he pulled away to trail kisses down to your neck did you tease into his ear, “So exactly how many girls have you shown this movie to?”

“None,” he breathed, nibbling on your earlobe. “I told you, I didn’t want to watch it without you.”

“You expect me to believe that you haven’t shown the TV or the VCR to any other girls?” You chuckled.

He pulled back to meet your eyes. “Okay, yeah, fair enough, I’ve shown them both of those, but not that movie, I swear. That was always yours.”

You knew you should be disgusted—not only that he had been such a callous player in your absence but also because he had used similar moves on you—but right then, you decided to throw all caution to the wind, even if just for one night. Seeing the movie picture again had reminded you that you needed to take happiness wherever you could find it, because thanks to your life, who knew how much longer you had?

“So,” you whispered huskily as you ran your fingers through his hair. “What were you saying about a bed and no time limit…?”

His eyes lit up with that familiar fire and he smirked. “Oh, hell yes.” He kissed you harder than before and picked you up, making you laugh into his mouth, as he used his transgenic speed to get you to the bedroom.

You watched the images on the screen in awe. You and Alec were sharing a blanket to keep your nude bodies warm as you sat in his embrace, the only light in the place coming from the TV. He had his chin resting on your bare shoulder, watching the movie intently with you. The man from the movie poster, George, was telling the woman, Mary, how he was going to travel the world and he was listing off his dreams right before she threw a rock at the abandoned house they were facing. When they started singing, Alec began to frown, but you? You were completely enraptured. You’d never seen or heard anything like this before.

In the beginning, the tape had seemed like it didn’t want to work, black and white tears in the image as it played, but thankfully Alec knew what he was doing with the equipment and how to get it working. Ever since then, your eyes hadn’t strayed from the screen once, even when Alec had tried to get a second round going, promising you he could pause the film and you could finish watching it later. When he’d failed to garner your attention, he’d pressed a kiss to the back of your head and settled behind you, letting out a quiet sigh of contentment as he’d burrowed into your neck before rejoining you in watching the movie.

When George told Mary that he’d give her the moon, Alec rolled his eyes and dropped a kiss onto your skin. “That’s lame,” he muttered.

You turned to look at him. “Why? Because he wants to give her anything she wants?”

“No. Because he’s going to lasso the moon. Lasso the moon? Really?”

You laughed and he smiled, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “Alright, sure, it’s cheesy, but the message isn’t.”

“It’s not?” Alec moved to kiss your ear.

“No. He likes her that much, he’d do anything for her. Kind of nice actually,” you ended in a whisper as you turned back to the screen. You let out a soft chuckle when the old man interrupted the couple and told George that he talked too much and he should kiss Mary already.

Alec, who had glanced back at the screen to watch that part of the scene, turned an affectionate smile on you before leaning in to nuzzle your cheek. “Stay here tonight,” he urged.

Your eyelids dropped halfway when he moved his lips to your neck and you dug your teeth into your bottom lip. “I can’t. Joshua will be worried.”

“The big guy will be just fine, trust me,” he promised, his lips gliding back to your shoulder. “I want you to stay.”

You thought it over. You both had reacquainted yourselves earlier quite nicely so that wasn’t an issue. Just like Alec had said, it had been amazing to be in a bed for once, not under the pressure of a timeclock or having to worry about prying eyes and listening ears milling around. You didn’t have to separate soon after you were finished if the guards Alec usually bribed weren’t on shift that night. Here, you were free to just be and let things take their own course and that had been a phenomenal feeling. As for what came next… you weren’t too sure about that. You hadn’t done a lot of talking since Alec carried you into his bedroom and playfully dropped you on the bed, knowing it wouldn’t hurt you. You had let out an incredulous laugh and he mirrored your grin before he’d been all over you.

You watched as he pressed tender kisses to your bare skin before glancing up at you hopefully. You took his face into your hand and he leaned into your touch. Seeing that, you decided to state your one condition if he truly wanted you to stay. “No more girls.” You refused to look away as you threw down that gauntlet. While he never said he wanted anything more than tonight with you, you needed him to know that if this did somehow go past that, you wouldn’t be wondering just who he had in his bed or on his couch a few hours before you would arrive at his front door. Or who he might bring back to this apartment to show his TV and VCR to.

He stared at you for a moment until the corner of his lips tipped up into a bit of a smug smile. “No more girls,” he agreed.

You tilted your head at him, studying his expression.

“What?” He laughed.

“Just like that?”

Alec’s smile grew and he leaned in to place a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Just like that.” You weren’t the least bit surprised when he suddenly turned you around in his arms to face him, one hand keeping the blanket over you, cocooning you both. He wiggled his eyebrows playfully at you before covering both of your heads with the blanket and leaning in for the kill.

“What about the movie?” You laughed as he began to kiss your neck.

“That’s the great thing about tapes. We can watch it again anytime we want,” he murmured, his hands starting to roam your body insistently.

“So we can watch the lasso the moon part again?” You teased.

He groaned into your neck, making you laugh. “Yeah, we can, if that’s what you want,” he grumbled, sounding like he was going to majorly suffer when you watched it again.

You pulled back, smiling, and cupped his face. “I want you,” you told him earnestly. And you did. You wanted more nights with him like this, you wanted what you two had managed to create back in your cell. Studying him now, you could see the man who had become almost everything to you back then, who’d kept you going during the rough moments, who ended up looking out for you even though he usually lived by the unwritten rule of only ever looking out for himself.

His eyes stared into yours and a small smile began to form on his face. “Then stay,” he urged.

You pretended to think over it for a minute and when you grinned over at him, his smile was already mirroring yours. “Okay,” you answered playfully, as if he had only posed a simple question like asking you if you wanted a drink or not. You moved up to kiss him and bury your fingers in his disheveled hair. “No lassoing the moon required,” you murmured to his lips.

He rolled his eyes and quickly maneuvered you onto your back with him right on top of you. He smirked down at you, leaning in to kiss you. “I’ll give you something better than the damn moon,” he mumbled into your mouth, making you laugh.

You didn’t want the moon or the stars (except the ones Alec made you see exploding behind your eyelids from time to time) or anything else that grand. What you wanted was simple: everything right here in front of you at this moment. A life that was your own, a job that helped keep money coming in, a roof over your head that offered protection from the cold, the wet, and intruders, while offering you a safe space to rest your head at night; food in your stomach, clothes that fit, and the feelings that coursed through you every time Alec kissed you.

Post-pulse Seattle might not be Bedford Falls and you might not be George Bailey or even Mary for that matter, but you were free, you were building a life, and you were happy. And someday, if you lived long enough, you might even get that family you’d been yearning for. From the look of things, between Joshua, Max, and now Alec, you were hopefully already starting to form something akin to the idea. And really, what more could you ask for?

A/N: Please let me know what you think. 😊

#alec mcdowell x reader #alec mcdowell x female reader #alec mcdowell x female!transgenic reader #alec mcdowell x you #alec mcdowell x y/n #alec mcdowell #dark angel fanfiction #dark angel #prompt response #dark angel fandom #female!transgenic!reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles character #alec mcdowell fanfiction #thebiggerbear writing

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thebluestbluewords · 5 months

Text

and soon it’ll be spring

testing out some character voices. Set in a vague future timeline, fandom-typical discussions of child abuse.

Carlos hasn't seen his mother in years. Hasn't spoken to her since he left the isle. There's phones, and computers, and mail service to the isle, and sometimes the reception even works now, but he hasn't reached out.

Evie sends letters to her mother sometimes. She addresses them to her old castle, encloses herbs and chocolate and eyeshadow. She doesn't read the responses that come back, but her mother sends them anyway, and Evie keeps sending her packages even though she can't bear to see whatever her mother has to say back to her.

Carlos can't even do that.

He's a bad son, probably. An ungrateful brat. Useless. Worthless. His mother could have drowned him as a baby, killed him like an unwanted puppy, and they'd all have been better off without the bother. He's been a bad son since he was born. Weak. A vulnerability.

He breathes, keeps his voice steady. "Yup. That."

Diego moves in a flurry of violent motion. He's facing away, towards the river, but Carlos still has to suppress the urge to flinch. Diego wears heavy boots, steel-toes even though he's never been in a real factory in his life, and every Isle kid's seen the damage they can do.

The rock he kicked goes flying into the river.

"Fuck." his cousin snaps. "Fuck! I remember that."

Carlos can't laugh, but there's a sort of bubbling fear that's catching in his throat, and he can let some of it out. "Hah. Yeah. Um, I sort of — I cried a lot, that summer? It was hot and awful and you wouldn't come by the house, and I wasn't allowed to be at yours, so we started looking for a better hideout that year. D'you remember when Ivy found that place by the forest—"

"—the one with the metal roof, where we got trapped by Kaa and you rigged a crossbow out of guitar strings." Diego finishes. "Fuck. I knew we found a new hideout that year, but I thought it was 'cause we got those drums for Sierra and couldn't keep them quiet down in the warehouse."

Carlos shrugs. He's always been the little one, the tag-along. Diego's gang didn't tell him anything when he was a kid, and they still don't really talk. He's magicam friends with Sierra and Ivy, but Mia won't even accept his follow request. They didn't want him then, they don't want him now, and it's not even really a sore point anymore. He's got his own pack. No teenagers really want a little kid hanging around them, especially a kid who's already showing that he's a weak point. "Might'a been. I dunno."

"Nah, it was 'cause dad didn't want you hanging around the house anymore," Diego says firmly, shaking his head. "We found a new place so you'd have somewhere to go'n hide when your mom went ballistic. You were tiny, y'know."

It's sort of a logical leap, but sort of not.

"I'm still short." Carlos points out. "You don't feel compelled to protect me now, right?"

"Hah. Hah. Very funny, nerd."

"I'm just saying—”He ducks the hand that shoots out to scrub his hair into a rat's nest. Score one for Isle kid instincts. "I'm say-ing," Carlos continues, undeterred. "That you didn't have to protect me back then. I could've taken care of myself."

"You were a kid."

"And you were what, twelve? Thirteen?"

"Older," Diego says firmly. He's still looking out towards the water. "Old enough to protect my baby cousin."

"Mom didn't kill me. I'm still here."

Diego's arms are smooth and unmarked by the round cigarette burns that cover Carlos's arms, hands, chest, belly. Anywhere he was soft, she liked to burn.

"She could've," Diego rasps out. "She almost did. I wasn't big enough to stop her."

"The spell—”

"FUCK THE SPELL." he shouts. Too loud. People are looking at them. People in Auradon love to stare and judge VKs, even when they're dressed just like anyone else in the city, but shouting was a reason to stare even back home.

Diego notices, and drops his arms down, swinging the cup in his hand back and forth like a melting pendulum of coffee and sugar. "Fuck it," he repeats, quieter. "If Auradon wanted us alive so bad, they should've put in the work themselves instead of relying on the barrier to keep bouncing us back."

Carlos lifts one shoulder in agreement. He's pretty sure that the spell does a lot more than just keep them in their bodies, what with the healing factor and the way it won't kick you back in unless you've got a body to go back to, but it's a solid enough argument if you don't go into specifics. Claudine and the religious types at Dragon Hall had a whole rant on tap about how the barrier was being used to bounce their souls out of their path to heaven, so that they'd rejoin their bodies again and keep them alive even longer, but thinking about the concept of souls makes Carlos feel an emotion that Mal calls "stabbing" and Jay calls "a working bullshit sensor." Evie calls it "a rational emotional response to religious guilt-tripping bullshit", which sounds better than stabbing, but like, the point still stands that souls aren't real and listening to Claudine's lecture about them makes Carlos feel mostly doubtful, and also sort of like he's a shitty person. Which is probably the point of religion.

"S'not really bouncing," he says quietly, keeping his voice low and face turned down. People stare less if they're not obviously talking to each other, because Auradon has different standards for communication and watching VKs shout-talk directly at each other makes people stare. "It's not like we ever really die."

Diego levels a flat look at him.

"Okay, yeah, they should've put more work into keeping us alive," Carlos agrees, because it's true. Auradon locked them up and threw away the key, and didn't even bother to check on their island of villains once they'd settled down from the initial bloodshed and power scrambles. "But the scientific basis for being bounced back into our bodies by the spell just isn't there. If they're using the barrier to trap our souls or whatever in an impenetrable bubble, then how're new souls getting in for the kids born on the Isle? If it's a true closed system it doesn't make sense. And I know--" He sucks in a breath before Diego can get a word in edgewise, because he knows. The souls aren't the point. The magic isn't even the point. "It doesn't matter how they're keeping us there so long as there's still kids starving and being killed on that rock. I know. But I can't push the wheels of government any faster, because I'm not the fucking king, or a representative, or anything. I'm a testimony at best,and it's not like being born on the Isle gives me the power to do anything about it."

Diego snorts. "Wow, you can't fix twenty years of systematic disenfranchisement on your own? Call the presses, my genius cousin can't fix something in five years that took twenty to break in the first place."

The guilt that lives in the place where other people keep their feelings swirls up in Carlos's chest again. "I could've tried."

"In between what, surviving high school? Petitioning the king to listen to us? 'Cause it seems like we're a lot further than we'd've been without your crew's work."

"I built a machine to break the barrier," Carlos tells the river. "Back home. Before we left. It nearly worked."

Diego kicks another rock into the river. "I know."

Carlos feels his heart stutter-stop. "You—what?"

"I know," Diego repeats. "You built shit all the time. You'd talk about it in your sleep. I stopped by that treehouse of yours one time, and you had the whole thing torn apart. You were talking to your crew about it. I listened for a while."

"When?"

The cold bottom of his cousin's coffee cup bonks into Carlos's skull. "Before you left, genius. I dunno. You didn't have it working yet."

"I thought I was being sneaky about that."

"You were. I'm just sneakier. If you'd been reverse engineering the whole barrier, you'd've built it better right?"

"I would've given us the dignity of dying, if that's what you're asking."

"Yeah." Diego says quietly, and then. "Fuck. That's morbid."

Carlos shrugs. Maybe thinking about better ways to die makes them morbid, but it's still comforting to think that if he'd been the one to engineer their prison, that he'd've been able to give them the mercy of actually dying. "We're villains. It's our speciality. We're supposed to be all about death, and murder, and stuff."

Diego laughs. They laugh the same way, the two of them. More of a bark than a real laugh. There's probably some irony there, if they wanted to go digging for it. "Didn't you hear, little cousin? We're supposed to be good now. No more murder. We're reformed villains, no more claws and fangs."

They're reformed, but Diego still calls at 3am sometimes, just to make sure that he's still breathing.

"Damn, guess I'll have to return the axe I bought," Carlos drawls, hefting his cup up like it's a weapon. "And the rat poison, and the chains for the dungeon..."

"Kinky."

#my fic #descendants #descendants fic #I don’t know if this makes sense anymore without the layers of Being Insane About My Own AU #but!!!#they’re talking about a specific family event that happened when they were like. Eleven and fourteenish.#carlos de vil #diego de vil #cinderellaverse

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contentloadingandstuff · 1 year

Note

Not sure if your requests are open, but could I ask for maybe Nilou Candace? Possibly Dehya as well with the smut ask you recently did?

Anonim asked:

NSFW headcanons for Ei, Sara, and Miko?

NSFW Headcanons - Candace & Nilou

A/N: Hello to you, Anons. I decided to split the characters into two posts - the one you see now for Hydro girls, and a future one for Dehya and Sara. Also - here are Miko headcanons and here are Ei headcanons. Hope you enjoy!

NSFW under the cut.

Candace

Keeping Aaru village safe is tough work - especially defending it from hostiles. It's time consuming, messy and troublesome. You, being the caring lover you are, helped her with that part. Candace had no trouble leaving that to you, but don't think she doesn't appreciate what you do. Quite the contrary, in fact.

Candace always leaned toward the traditional role in your relationship. Since a new Vision holder entered the scope, she doesn't have to be the one to fight anymore. Candace would much prefer for you to be the warrior, while she stays behind and cares for both her husband and her home in other ways.

And she knows just what you need.

Candace loves being seen as the reward. The thought of being the one keeping you fighting makes her both happy and horny.

She loves acts of service, whatever form they may take.

So once you get home, expect to have the best wine and fresh juice at hand as Candace kneels between your legs, head bobbing up and down.

She wants to show you just how grateful she is for everything you do for her and the village, and her tongue, tits and slit are the perfect tools to do so.

While you lay back, Candace will go to town on your cock. It will be sloppy. Her saliva will be all over your crotch as she worships every millimeter of your dick, head to base. You don't even have to move a muscle - Candace will throat you until she gags herself.

She will use her mouth until you cum. Don't expect her to waste a single drop of your seed.

While your milk is nice and secure inside her belly, she'll entertain you until you're ready to go again.

Her favorite way to pass that time is to climb on top of your face and let you eat her out. And what man could refuse a taste of a nice, tanned, wet and willing pussy?

Candace likes to keep a cute, trimmed bush of dark-blue pubes right above her clit. As for you, she'll take a hairy cock any day. The hair is a natural part of every man, and she enjoys when you embrace that.

If she picks a different way, you can be sure your balls will get involved to some degree. Candace will either suck them or give you a nice and gentle massage. She knows just how amazing having your nuts lightly squeezed or rolled around in her fingers feels.

When you inevitable get rock-hard again, your woman will climb on top of you and serve you the main course.

You'll get to enjoy her wet hole at a moderate pace. She'll accommodate your needs for more or less speed any time.

The best position is cowgirl, she finds. You either get to enjoy her stunning features and big boobs or nice, squeezable ass. She'll encourage you to give a good slap or two to her cheeks. A little pain keeps the play exciting.

If you pick reverse, she'll also rub her clit on your thigh to chase a connected orgasm. And when she reaches it? Man are the sounds she makes and how her pussy clenches around you amazing.

Speaking of her body, it's a close ideal of beauty. Wide hips, a muscular but soft stomach, thick thighs, round and plump ass and a pair of amazing mammaries. She really has been blessed by the patron deity of females.

Enjoy when you prove it to her by worshiping her dry, with your lips around her nipples and a hand between her legs.

She would really like for you to cum inside every time, but alas - it bears consequences. Go for her mouth instead, and she'll leave no drop of your gift outside of her. It's just so warm and salty and delicious.

When you'll be ready for a child, Candace will take you to a special, hidden spot in the desert she prepared beforehand. You'll light some incense, make an offering of food and raise a prayer to the goddess of fertility. After that intro, expect a long, slow, romantic breeding session. She'll have you do that at least once a week before she's 100% carrying your heir.

"Ah, you're back home my love. Come to me when you're ready. I wanted to... thank you for your efforts."

Nilou

She always wanted to be in a relationship. Nilou dreamt of a person whose even the slightest actions would leave her breathless and flustered. She envisioned a person who would sing and dance with her, take her to amazing places and feed her wonderful, home cooked meals every day. Now that she's found someone like that, Nilou will surely become the happiest woman of Teyvat!

Your sex life can be only described as wholesome, just like your girl.

Whenever she feels safe and happy, which is quite often, she'll lead you to bed. It's like a reflex for her, a natural desire to be even closer to you.

Aside from dancing, making love with you is her favorite hobby. It makes her feel all weak and giddy whenever she lies to you after an amazing orgasm.

She knows the importance of foreplay and prep time very well. Nilou feels like everybody forgets that you, as a guy, need some encouragement as well. And by that she understands not just getting you hard, but making you completely dehydrated.

Her go-to way to do this is to dance for you. She loves doing it, not only with clothes on. Her movements are smooth and well trained, and the way her titties jiggle adds a lot to the eye-feast she provides.

Nilou's body is not ideal. She's a little insecure about that, in fact. She has no thick, meaty thighs, not very wide hips, a flat backside and breasts too small to let you really feel them. Her small stature and the lack of muscles makes her body quite small and fragile, not allowing for hard or rough dicking. It would only leave her sore and bruised, which she doesn't enjoy.

In fact, Nilou doesn't like pain at all. Every pain, except the lovely type when you stretch her entrance or poke at her womb, spoils the happy atmosphere. She'll love it if you keep it all pleasurable.

Speaking of dislikes, she has plenty of them.

A fast pace is a no-no for her, as she likes to feel every thrust in its full glory, from the tip of your head down to your base. Her body is not very durable, so it would likely leave her achy for days. And that type of ache makes dancing hard - not only because the memory leaves her too flustered to practice!

She doesn't like oral a lot, as well. Especially when it comes to receiving it. Nilou's always afraid she tastes awful, or some unexpected health problem makes licking her dangerous.

A real shame, since her pussy is adorable! The outer lips completely cover the inner, yet her clit remains exposed. The entire thing is of a cute, natural pink color as well. A tuft of red hair she keeps trimmed just makes it more tempting to dive right in. If you assure her it's safe and fun for you, Nilou will agree. Maybe you'll even make her like oral, who knows.

Giving oral is okay by her, but she'll want to keep your dick in her mouth or on her lips. Her gag reflex makes throating you a messy nightmare for Nilou. Also, swallowing is another thing she doesn't enjoy. She’ll gladly have you explode on her stomach though.

Anal is a no-go, as it hurts Nilou quite badly. Her sphincter is very tight, and it doesn't feel great when you try to force it open. And she wouldn't want you in a place so nasty anyway.

As you can see, Nilou is... not that great at this whole sex thing. But she tries!

Nilou is aware of the limits she puts on variety, so she'll do her best to make it up to you!

Positions are her main way of doing it. Dancing made her very flexible, and she wants to use that to its full advantage. Any position involving spreading her legs, like a modified lotus or split cowgirl, or bending her back, like the bridge, magnifies the pleasure for Nilou.

Toys, and lots of toys. Nilou wants to keep things as fresh as possible, so expect a new toy every week or two. It'll be everything from remote vibes and buttplugs for her, and prostate massagers or fleshlights for you. She'll eagerly arrange longer play sessions when you just try out all of this equipment on yourselves.

Edging will be necessary, however. Poor Nilou can't take a whole lot of pleasure, and cums easily. She is one of those that get really sleepy after an orgasm. In her, the desire to just snuggle up to you and pass out is stronger than any level of horniness.

One of the best things in Nilou's opinion is making her dance with a vibe inside her. Bonus points if it's remote control. Nilou will laugh along with you when the pleasure becomes too much and her thighs start to tremble.

The noises she makes are a mix of laughter and squealing. Even if she's been edged mercilessly for a long time, she'll chuckle all the same.

Hand holding is a huge thing for your girl. It makes her feel so warm and loved. With that in mind, her favorite positions allow just for that, with some stretching on the side.

She doesn't have an amazing body, but she'll work with what she has. Lingerie will be a common sight in the bedroom.

Please assure her she's beautiful and you love her as she is, poor girl is so insecure :(

Whenever she feels ready (or especially adventurous), she'll get you to help lube her up good and gently put a buttplug inside her. The sex afterwards makes her see stars.

"Come on! Let's have some fun, my love!"

Thanks for reading!

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j-1z · 6 months

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xdinary heroes love languages

disclaimer: all of my readings are for entertainment purposes only and should be taken with a grain of salt, as these idols are strangers.

this reading was done on aug 24th, 2023. i used the ‘dreaming way’ deck and caroline myss' 'archetype cards' deck. i also pulled up the member's birth charts for a bit more guidance.

Whatever love language his partner wants, is Gunil’s love language. I did two pulls here because he was so unclear with his feelings. Bottom line, is he isn’t sure of his love language because he kind of just goes with what his partner wants. Gunil has a tendency to become extremely infatuated with people and is willing to give himself completely to them. I imagine someone kneeling, helpless at an altar. There’s a sense of feeling lost and confused in terms of love right now, so he’s not exactly sure what his love language is. He wants to desperately make someone happy, playing with different ideas of what would be nice. Very idealistic in love and finds it hard to stay in reality in this aspect of his life - like a rock in pretty much every other part of his life and ideally, wants his partner to lean on him, but it seems that he would unintentionally allow them to knock him over and call it love. Once he heals, he gives knight vibes hardcore - chivalrous, a bit traditional, devotion is a huge theme here, wants to see his partner try and make leaps and bounds. He wants to worship, but needs to learn to take care of himself and set boundaries first.

Acts of service is Jungsu’s love language. He tends to automatically take a more dominant role in his relationships, at least emotionally. Truly lives up to that “mom” title - softly guiding, compassionate, warm and super kind. He wants to relieve his partner’s burdens so that they can shine again. Literally, picking up the pieces of their life to lighten the load, I imagine a mother goose character rounding up her gosling children. He also seems to know what to say to make his partner feel good. On the other hand, Jungsu needs to be careful with doing things to get his partner to “shut up,” whether it’s in a half-assed manner, he’s doing it while sighing through it, or teetering into people-pleaser territory. Has the ability to be someone his partner can lean on in a more tangible manner.

Quality time is Jiseok’s love language. He loves to kind of follow his partner around, sticking his nose into what they’re doing and simply being around them. I imagine a puppy whose tail keeps wagging as they sit and stare at their owner. Would love parallel play - helps break up the monotony of doing mundane things and he’s got someone to mess around with, pick their brain, etc. The deepest way to an emotional connection is to connect through the brain first, the heart and the mind go very hand in hand for him, and the best way to connect through the brain is to spend time together. Long talks, storytelling are all things he likes.

Acts of service and words of affirmation are Seungmin’s love languages. Just want to comment on the amount of depth this guy has - for a Gemini, he reminds me more of a Scorpio with the way he operates in relationships. Relationships for him are something that transforms both him and his partner, and he wants to see them grow even (and especially) if it’s painful. Seungmin tends to go for jaded types, but not without cause. He’s the type to do your laundry when you can’t, make you a meal or get food when you can’t get out of bed, and inevitably, hoist you up by your bootstraps and get you moving again. It’s all out of love and the necessity to be connected on such a visceral level. The type to give you hard truths, but also tell you that you’ll be okay in the end. There’s a deep fire that burns when he’s with a partner that makes him feel alive - can be a little aggressive or abrasive with how he gives his love sometimes. I imagine someone throwing blinds open abruptly to flood a dark room with light, a “come on, get up, let’s go,” and holding hands to go take a shower for the first time in a couple days. Very wise, probably has been through what he likes to help others through. Also, refuses to settle for anyone who isn’t up for a transformation, which makes him appear aloof and not available to most.

Acts of service is Hyeongjun’s love language. He has a hard time verbally speaking his truth, putting words to his feelings and has a real tendency to slip up in his speech often (I think he mentioned something about this recently, preferring to perform and paint as a way to express?). It actually seems that he’s convinced he needs to be more of a physical touch or words of affirmation kind of partner - very naïve lover, I don’t think he’s had much experience, if any at all, in terms of love. His ideas of love he absorbs from the world around him (media, his parents, his bandmates, etc). The best way to show his love would be through different, more practical ways, instead of big, poetic words or throwing himself at his partner. He is surprisingly level headed when it comes to his partners and takes on an almost fatherly role to them. Hyeongjun also tends to be attracted to those who have big woes - very similar to Seungmin in that he would cook his partner a meal if they haven’t eaten, sit and let his partner vent (and give advice!), etc. However, there is less of that “tough love” aspect, so much as there is a humanitarian, “you’re human, you deserve to be happy” kind of energy. If his partner needed to spend time just rotting in bed, he’d probably join and make sure they had basic needs met until they felt better enough to do it themselves. Runner up is gift giving - very contemplative and thoughtful, he would be good at making playlists, paintings, etc for his partner and it’s a great outlet for big feelings.

Physical touch and acts of service are Jooyeon’s love languages. In relationships, he tends to really embody his Virgo mars - very warm, patient and giving to his partners, he wants to be someone that they can look up to for support. He is extremely similar to Gunil surprisingly, however Jooyeon has an easier time not losing himself in infatuation and can keep himself afloat easier. This seems to be the one aspect in his life where he is extremely grounded and can be a pillar of support for those that he loves. He has a lot of patience for the world around him - I want to note that even though he seems energetic and bouncy, his energy overall is very steady and rooted. This was also the most obvious physical touch reading I’ve gotten in a minute - he loves hugs and will not hesitate to give big ol’ squeezes. The act of hugging, cuddling, physical contact, etc helps him to regulate and connect more than any other ways - he finds it easier to physically express his love, instead of verbally. There’s a sense that he feels like he’s good at hugging/physical contact, but not always the best with words. Deep, deep down, Jooyeon is also a bit of a romantic and tends to look for “the one” when he’s dating. He wants someone to take care of and dote on.

#xdinary heroes tarot #kpop #kpop tarot #kpop astrology #xdinary heroes astrology #xdinary heroes x reader #kbands astrology #kbands tarot #goo gunil #kim jungsu #kwak jiseok #oh seungmin #han hyeongjun #jun han #o.de #lee jooyeon

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kingkatsuki · 2 years

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Dial Tones Part Two | Eddie Munson x Reader

☏ Masterlist.

Thank you so much for all the love and kind comments on part one!! I appreciate it more than you know and I hope you enjoy this one!💕

Summary: “I ain’t here for therapy, sweetheart.”

“You do realise this is a premium service?” You rolled your eyes.

“Oh, my wallet definitely knows,” Eddie smirked, “I just like the sound of your voice.”

Starting a job as a phone sex operator was supposed to be temporary, you were just trying to earn enough money to move out of your parents home and pay off your loans. The biggest rules were don’t tell your clients any personal information, and definitely don’t fall in love.

But you hadn’t counted on one of your clients being Eddie Munson.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, no beta, Eddie calls a sex line, phone sex, m!masturbation, f!masturbation, lots of dirty talk, we almost make Eddie cum in his pants more than once.

Word Count: 5.4k.

Tonight had been a complete disaster. It was barely 9.30pm and you’d already almost lost your temper with two clients, luckily a transfer to Bev narrowly avoided conflict with one of them. You were seconds away from a verbal brawl over the phone when he suggested that you were a whore for doing this as a profession when you’d rejected his pet name for you, and the second client seemed excited that you were in such a “feisty” mood this evening. But you could care less, the only person on your mind was Eddie Munson.

Sighing as you glanced over at the clock on your wall, wondering whether his band had hit the stage yet or if it was still too early. You weren’t sure the kind of music they played, but you’d assumed it was rock. You already knew you wouldn’t be talking to him tonight, but it wouldn’t stop you from daydreaming about being there with him, the client you were supposed to be sexting was currently in the middle of an elaborate fantasy scene as you skimmed through the pages in your copy of cosmo. Thinking about leaning against the bar as Eddie ordered a round of drinks for you both, his arm curling around your waist as he pressed a kiss to your temple. Live music pumping through the speakers of the dingy dive bar as you prepared to watch his set.

But instead, you were stuck here alone, thankful that your client seemed to cum in record time tonight, his elaborate fantasy clearly working. Although part of you wished it had taken a little longer so the call would manage to bulk up your paycheck as you hung up the receiver, taking a sip of water as you moved your attention back to your magazine to try and ignore how lonely you felt. Wondering whether you should just have an early night, seeing no other point in staying up since Eddie wasn’t going to call you, and the phone lines seemed especially quiet during your Tuesday.

‘Ten ways to spice up your sex life, and why you should try them.’

You rolled your eyes at the title of the article as you closed the magazine, tossing it onto your bedside table as you decided to get ready for bed. Tugging your leggings down your thighs to leave you in your panties and an oversized shirt as you padded towards your bathroom to brush your teeth. The loud twang of your phone ringing sounded through your apartment and you ignored it, knowing that it would end up going through to another one of the workers on call tonight, planning to come back into your bedroom to unplug it for the night so it wouldn’t disrupt your sleep. The ringing stopped for a moment before it began again, making you groan in annoyance as you spat your toothpaste out into the sink, washing it away as you padded back towards the telephone. Scrunching your nose in annoyance as you heard it ring for longer than it should’ve, deciding to just pick it up. One final call before bed wouldn't be so bad, you’d earn a little extra rent money and hopefully, you’d have them done in under ten minutes.

“Fuck it,” You mumble beneath your breath.

“Hey, there.” You cooed, “Thanks for calling.”

“Hey, sweetheart.” Your heart skipped a beat when you recognised the voice instantly.

Eddie?

“I’m sorry I’m late-”

“Hello to you too, pretty boy.” You smiled, sitting down on your mattress with a smile, “I thought you weren’t calling me tonight. Didn’t you have your show?”

“Yeah, it finished early.” He sounded out of breath on the other side, wondering whether he might have rushed home to talk to you.

The thought had you feeling giddy, unable to hide the grin that covered your face even though you couldn’t guarantee that was actually the reason. He’d probably spent the entire evening carrying heavy musical gear around and performing on stage, of course, he’d be out of breath.

“How did it go?” You asked.

“It was great. Our regular crowd of five drunks turned into at least ten.” Eddie joked and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Big crowd, I’ll see you opening for Black Sabbath next.”

“That’s the dream,” He laughed, “One day, I swear to you. One fuckin’ day.”

“I hope so, I’ve always wanted to see Black Sabbath.”

“‘Kay- ouch, sweetheart. I didn’t call for you to hurt me like this.” You couldn’t see him, but you imagined him holding his chest tight as though you’d shot an arrow straight through his heart.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I was kidding.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at his defeated tone, Eddie always seemed to have your jaw aching from how much you smiled on calls to him. His personality was so infectious that it just bled through the phone and into your soul, “I’m glad it was a good one.”

“Thanks, babe.” He smiled.

Babe. The pet name had your body heating up as you preened from the sound of it coming from him, something so simple and yet it had your entire body feeling ablaze.

“No pretty girls catch your eye at the show then?” You tried to make it sound casual like you weren’t completely bothered by the fact that he might be talking to other girls while you were here.

He was a single guy, in a band, playing a show. There had to be women that were interested in him, or at the very least curious. You knew the type of women that would go to a bar like that just to piss their partners off, and Eddie was the perfect candidate for their affections for the night.

But you hoped the answer was no. The thought of him talking to anyone else the way he spoke to you had a darkness forming in the pit of your stomach as it churned.

“You weren’t there so no,” Eddie swore he could hear the jealousy in your tone as he answered truthfully.

“I said pretty girls,” You laughed.

“Princess, if you think you ain’t pretty you really are delusional.” He replied bluntly.

“How’d you know I’m pretty?” You scoffed.

“Are you questioning me?” Eddie grinned, “I can just tell, ‘kay?”

There's part of you that wants to hear him say it again, the way he makes you feel pretty so effortlessly, despite never seeing you. It’s a fantasy that you want to cling to for as long as possible, the feelings that Eddie had you feeling in such a short space of time were nothing like the ones you’d felt for your high school crush or the men that you’d tried dating after graduation. This felt different.

“Awful sure of yourself, Eddie Munson.” You hum.

“And what if I am?” Eddie laughed, “Are you gonna make me say it again, huh? Cause you know I will.”

“Maybe one more time.” You coaxed him on with a smile.

“I didn’t look at a single person in the bar because all I was thinkin’ about was you. Is that what you wanna hear, sweetheart? Cause it’s fuckin’ true.”

“I’ll take it,” You’re one step away from swinging your legs and squealing like a lovesick teenager, butterflies tickling your ribcage.

“Honestly, I’ve been thinkin’ about you all fuckin’ day.” He groaned, “I ended up leaving the bar early because I just wanted to get home to talk to you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” He sighed, “It probably sounds so fuckin’ stupid, but I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” You replied truthfully, “I was about to go to bed when you called.

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Eddie groaned, “I didn’t realise how late it was for you, I can leave you-”

“No!” You almost shouted, “No, please don’t.” You spoke softly this time.

“If you’re sure,” He mumbled, “Don’t want you losing out on sleep because of me.”

“It wouldn’t be losing out.” You smiled, “I’m really glad you called, Eddie.”

“Me too,” He smirked, placing his forearm against the kitchen wall as he leaned against it.

“I was actually thinking of you too, you know. Before you called-” You spoke, twirling the cord of your phone around your fingers.

“Oh, yeah?” His ears perked up at that.

“Yeah,” You hummed, “I was sad you weren’t gonna call me tonight.”

“Bet you say that to all your guys, yeah?”

“Just you,” You mumbled truthfully.

“Careful, sweetheart. Or you’re gonna give me a big head.” Eddie laughed.

“It sounds like you’ve already got one.” You teased back.

“Wow, I’m hurt.” He gasped mockingly.

“Maybe I can make it up to you?” You cooed.

“And how exactly did you wanna do that?” He took in a sharp intake of breath as he lowered his voice, hanging on your every word.

“Well, there’s something that we could do.” You didn’t know why you felt so awkward around him when you could get through a dozen calls a day without even stammering, “The actual reason you should be calling this number.”

“You wanna have phone sex with me, sweetheart?” He sounded prurient on the other end of the line, the tone had you rubbing your thighs together in anticipation.

“Don’t you want to- with me?” You whispered, feeling slightly insecure that this wasn’t something he wanted to do, “Isn’t that why you called in the first place?”

“Well, yeah.” He mumbled, “But I didn’t expect to get you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You furrowed your brows indignantly, what was wrong with getting you?

“No, no, no. I didn’t mean it like that, babe.” Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration as he tried to get his words right, shuffling on socked feet in the kitchen as though he was dodging bullets in one of those old western movies as he tried to backtrack, “Jesus, it's the furthest from that. I just meant that I really, really like talking to you.”

“We can still talk too.” You mumbled, “It doesn’t have to change that. Cause I like talking to you too, Eddie.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.” Eddie groaned, the sound of his name coming from you in that sweet tone had his cock throbbing, “But, is it something you want to do?”

No one had ever asked you that. Paying for their own pleasure, not yours.

“Maybe.” You didn’t know why you were so shy when this was something you did regularly now, the job had desensitised you to a lot of things you used to be so modest about, “I’ve actually been thinking about you all evening.”

“Oh, yeah? You were thinking of lil’ old me?” Eddie mused, “And what exactly were you thinking about, sweetheart?”

You took a deep breath before responding, screwing your eyes shut.

“Bending me over in the bathroom at your show,” You spoke bluntly, images of your fantasy flashed through your mind as you pictured his hands clinging onto your hips as he drove into you from behind.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Eddie groaned, “Are you tryin’ to make me cum in my pants? Cause it’s fuckin’ working.”

“You asked what I was thinking about,” You smiled, squeezing your thighs together tighter to give your neglected clit some much-needed stimulation, “I’m just being honest.”

“Okay, pretty girl. Keep being honest for me, yeah?” He grunted, “Were you touching yourself thinking about that?”

“Yes.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie groaned, “I’m so fuckin’ hard right now.”

“I wish you were here right now,” You gasped as your cunt throbbed from his words, desperate for attention.

“Me too, sweetheart. Me too-” He whined, “I also wish you could’ve come to my show.”

“So you could bend me over in the bathroom?” You smirked playfully.

“Well, that is one of the reasons-” He trailed off, “Are you gonna tell me what I was doing to you in the bathroom when I bent you over, huh?”

“You wrapped your hand around my neck and pulled me back against you-” You continued.

“Yeah, letting you see how pretty you look in your reflection in the mirror?” He teased, “Letting you see how good I’d make you feel?”

“Fuck,” You whimpered, your neglected clit throbbed beneath your panties from his words, shuffling against your sheets as you tried to get comfortable.

“What are you wearin’?” Eddie asked in such a hushed voice that you couldn’t help but laugh, the tone made it seem like he was in the middle of a seedy drug deal instead of talking to you on the phone.

“Are we doing those cliche questions?” You teased, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you pondered whether to lie to him to make yourself appear sexier than you felt, the way you’d lie to any of your other clients during these calls. Elaborate descriptions of gorgeous three-piece lingerie sets, lacy bustiers and the sheerest panties imaginable; nothing like what you were currently wearing.

“Please, sweetheart. Indulge me.” He pressed as you made your choice.

“Just a shirt and a pair of panties.” You replied honestly, fiddling with the hem of the worn, oversized shirt. Your fingers dipped through some of the holes that had appeared over time as you chewed your bottom lip.

“Fuck, no bra?” You grinned at the childish curiosity in his voice. He sounded so inquisitive as he almost whispered the words– Like a naughty schoolboy who was trying not to get caught doing something wrong.

“Nope.”

“Jesus.” You heard a sharp intake of breath from the other end of the phone as he exhaled.

“I was getting ready for bed,” You murmured, “Like I said, I didn’t think I’d be hearing from you tonight.”

“You mean to tell me this isn’t how you were dressed the other times we spoke?” His tone was playful.

“Truthfully? No.” You said with a smile.

“Aw, sweetheart. You’re ruinin’ the sex line illusion.” He joked.

“But this makes you the only person I’ve been on a call with in just a shirt and panties.” You shrugged.

“So what you’re sayin’ is that I’m special? I’ll take that.”

“You are special, Eddie.” You couldn’t deny it, he was.

“Says you, sweetheart.” Eddie laughed, “You must have some sort of extra special powers because I can’t get you off my damn mind.”

Those words were just as true for you, even with the little you knew about him; he was virtually a stranger, he was a stranger. Just another one of your clients if you really thought about it, except it didn’t feel like it. You didn’t have to go through the robotic spiel with him on the phone, you didn’t have to pretend. For the first time since you’d started this job, you were yourself around him, opening yourself up and for the first time, you hadn’t lied. He was the last person you thought about when you went to sleep at night and the first person you thought about when you woke up in the morning.

“Oh yeah?” You hummed, your hands absentmindedly brushed over your breasts as you released a soft sigh, “What do you think about, Eddie?”

“Are you touching yourself right now?” He completely ignored your question as his ears perked up, trying to hear what you were doing from the other side of the phone.

“Maybe,” You teased.

“Fuck,” Eddie groaned at the thought, “You won’t make me feel as guilty for touching myself either then, sweetheart.”

“What if I want you to touch yourself, Eddie?” Your words had a sinful groan leaving his lips as you heard him shuffling on the other end of the line. Unbuckling just jeans and tugging them down just enough to free his aching cock. You heard him spit crudely, the sound causing your cunt to squeeze around nothing as you imagined him wrapping a large palm around his cock using his spit as makeshift lube.

“Then who am I to deny such a pretty girl,” He hissed as his hand smoothed along his fat cock, languidly stroking himself.

“Are you gonna answer my question?” You smiled, your fingers pinching your hardening nipples through the worn shirt, “Kinda rude to ignore me, don’t you think?”

“Ah, shit.” He grunted, “Sorry, sweetheart. What was the question?”

“What do you think about when you think about me?” You repeated.

“God,” He groaned, “Absolutely everything. And I’m not even kidding-”

“Everything?” You replied coyly, “So are you stroking your cock while you think about me?” You teased, knowing that he was hit you just wanted to hear him admit it.

“Shit,” He rasped at your candid question, “It’s all for you, sweetheart. It’s all yours.”

You wished you could see, closing your eyes as you began to picture him on the other side of the phone. One of his large fists wrapped around his cock as he rolled his hips into his touch. The subtle sound of metal clanking against each other sounded and you wondered whether he was wearing a bracelet or rings, the thought alone had your clit throbbing beneath your cotton panties as you imagined those same thick fingers stroking through your messy folds. Your own hand travelled down your stomach to the hem of your shirt as you tugged it up, your bedroom felt so hot. Fingertips brushed against the crotch of your panties as you exhaled sharply, feeling how soaked the fabric was from barely anything. Tugging the material to the side so you could run your fingers through your folds, coating them in your slick as you exhaled softly.

“Hey, you still there?” He broke you out of your daydream as you heard him on the other line, “Talk to me, sweetheart. Tell me what you’re doing.”

“Just playing with my clit,” You hummed, “Wishing it was your hands instead.”

“Fuck, what did I tell you, sweetheart? Don’t say it like that. You’re gonna make me cum already.” He grunted.

“You’re the one who asked.” You replied simply, soft moans sounding through the receiver as you continued to press soft circles against your clit.

“Yeah, but I didn’t think that was gonna be the answer. Jesus Christ.”

“I’m so wet because of you.” You continued, your fingers lazily working your clit with no sense of urgency as you listened to his gruff moans on the other side of the phone.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You repeated, positioning the receiver between the curve of your neck as you raised your hips off your mattress to tug the fabric down your thighs. Kicking them off to leave them at the bottom of your bed as you spread your legs apart. Sighing when you dragged one of your fingers through the mess Eddie had created, pressing the pad against your puffy clit as you moaned softly.

“You got no idea what you’re doing to me, baby.” He hummed, his hand stilling around his cock as he tried to calm his body down, “Those fingers inside that sloppy little pussy?”

“Not yet, I’m just playing with my clit.” You heard his sharp intake of breath on the other side, “Do you want me to put one inside?”

“Yes,” He moaned, “God, yes.”

You gasped as you slipped a single finger inside your tight heat, feeling your walls fluttering around it as you began to languidly pump it in and out of yourself. Wishing that Eddie was here instead, thinking about how much thicker and longer his fingers would be, how much deeper he’d be able to get inside you. The thought had you moaning obscenely as you heard more expletives from the other side of the phone.

“You have no idea how hot you are, do you?” He groaned, the sound of him fisting his cock sounded again as you tried to match his pace.

“Says you,” You murmured, “I’m so wet because of you.”

“Because of me?” You weren’t sure whether he sounded surprised or turned on by your admission, “Can’t believe you’d ever want me, sweetheart.”

“But I do,” You whimpered, “Want you so bad.”

“Yeah, you do?” He cooed softly, “What do you want me to do, huh?”

If this was a call with any other client they would’ve asked what you were going to do to them, something solely for their own pleasure. And you would’ve come up with a ridiculous line about wanting their big cock inside you, something that would have them finishing while you sat there bored. But Eddie had specifically asked what you wanted, and it gave you the confidence to be honest with him.

“I want you to-” You were shocked at how shy you suddenly felt to say the words.

“You want me to what?” He hummed, “Come on, sweetheart. You can tell me.”

“I want you to eat me out.” You mumbled, cringing at how embarrassing you sounded, but the words had Eddie moaning on the other end of the line.

“You wouldn’t be able to stop me, babe.” He scoffed, “I’d let you suffocate me between those thighs.”

“Eddie,” You whined, adding another finger inside your quivering hole as you stretched yourself out. The heel of your palm pressed against your clit as you began to curl your digits towards the spongy spot inside you.

“I wish I could taste you right now, bet you taste so fuckin’– wait,” You gasped as he went silent for a moment, “I can fuckin’ hear how sloppy your pretty pussy is, fuck-”

Your body began to feel sweltering from the way Eddie’s ears perked up to try and hear how wet you were as your fingers pumped inside your soaked cunt, the sound echoing around your quiet bedroom as you shamelessly rolled your hips against your touch.

“How many fingers are you using?” He asked.

“Two.”

“That’s so fucking hot,” He grunted, his hand speeding up around his fat cock, “I ain’t gonna last much longer, princess. Not with you doing this to me.”

You felt like you hadn’t even done anything, you’d barely spoken on the call compared to how you were with your other clients. Eddie’s voice was enough encouragement for you to find your pleasure. The sultry tone had your walls clenching as the mess of your slick began to pool against your fingers, your eyes still clenched shut as you imagined him between your thighs feasting on your cunt like he’d said before, your thighs squeezing his head as he felt you cum on his tongue.

“Add another, sweet girl. For me?” You whimpered as you clenched your eyes shut, picturing it was his fingers instead as you pushed a third digit inside, keening at the stretch as you continued your steady pace, “That’s it- good girl.”

“Fuck, I wish I was there.” Eddie grunted, “I’d make you feel so fucking good, sweetheart.”

“Eddie,” You gasped as your walls pulsed around your fingers.

“Fuck me, don’t say my name like that, sweetheart.” Eddie groaned, “You’re gonna have me cumming in seconds if you’re not fucking careful. I don’t want this to be over yet–”

“Maybe I want you to cum,” You teased, the thought of him cumming on the other side of the phone all because of you had you hot and bothered.

“Not until you cum though, yeah?” Eddie moaned, “You got no idea what you do to me, sweetheart. No fuckin’ idea.”

You could’ve said the same to him, no one had ever made you feel like this before. So wanted, desirable. You were becoming lightheaded from the pleasure pulsing through your veins as you worked yourself towards your release, more pretty sounds spilling from your lips as you shamelessly ground yourself against your palm.

“God, if I was there I’d make you feel so good, sweetheart.” He whined, “Wanna see my cock disappear inside that pretty little pussy.”

His crude words had your thighs squeezing together, trapping your fingers inside your tight cunt as you thought about what he’d said. Imagining his thick length disappearing inside your cunt as he hovered over your body, filling you up as he stretched you out around him.

“Good lord,” Eddie grunted at the sounds you were making for him, “You have no idea how much I want to fuckin’ ruin you.”

You gasped as you began to scissor your fingers inside your tightness, feeling a twinge from the burn from the stretch as you imagined it was Eddie slipping his cock inside you. A feeble attempt at replicating how he would feel, certain that he would’ve already had you cumming thrice if he was here with you. Turning you into a sobbing mess beneath him as he completely destroyed your tight cunt, leaving you stuffed full with his release as he worshipped your body.

“You gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” He cooed, the faint sound of his hand fisting his cock filled the air as he sped up, trying to meet you at the clifftop of your release, “Wanna hear how pretty you sound when you’re cumming for me.”

“‘m so close, Eddie.” You replied truthfully, feeling the telltale signs of your cunt clenching in the beginnings of your release.

“Yeah, you need my help, baby?” He whispered, “Tell me what you need.”

“Talk to me,” You slurred, you couldn’t think straight. The right words weren’t forming in your mind, the only thing you could focus on was the sound of his voice as you continued fucking yourself with your fingers.

“You like the sound of my voice that much?” He grinned, rolling his palm over the tip of his weeping cock to gather the leaking pre as he smoothed it down his length, “Want me to tell you exactly what I’d be doing to you if I was there.”

“Yes,” You hissed, gritting your teeth as you dangled on the edge of your bliss, just needing something to push you over the edge.

“I’d have my cock buried so deep inside that sweet angel pussy while I fuck you into the shape of my cock,” His voice darkened as he spoke bluntly, the words sending jolts of electricity directly to your clit, “Suckin’ on those pretty tits-”

You gasped, his voice was too overwhelming it had your entire body convulsing as you sped up your fingers. The lewd sound of your sticky slick filled the room as you selfishly sought your release, forgetting that he was the one paying for this call.

“I’m gonna cum-” You could feel it, the coil inside you so dangerously close to snapping.

“Do it,” Eddie groaned, “Wanna hear how pretty you sound when you cum.”

“Oh fuck, Eddie.” You whined as your body finally succumbed to the pleasure, the coil inside you breaking as you collided into your bliss. Your fingers still pressing against the spongy spot inside you as you rolled your hips, your palm pressed against your clit hard as your orgasm surged through you in harsh waves.

“Fuckin’, shit, christ-” Eddie stumbled over his words on the other side of the phone as he found his own release, his hand pumping his cock furiously as he began to come undone.

A loud clatter caused you to jump as his receiver dropped, the long cord unable to save it as it hit his kitchen floor. A grin broke out on your face as you felt your cunt continue to throb around your fingers which were still buried inside you, riding out the final waves of your climax as you heard Eddie continue to curse on the other end of the line as he rushed to pick it back up, not wanting to miss hearing you in your bliss.

“Fuck, sweetheart. I’m so sorry, I dropped the fuckin’ phone.” He continued to curse as you laughed and told him that it was okay.

“Was it that good?” You chuckled.

“You said my name and I swear to god I saw heaven.” He groaned, “Didn’t think a guy like me would ever catch a glimpse of it and yet here I am.”

“Shut up,” You laughed, laying back against your sheets as your chest continued to heave, still feeling the after-effects of your release.

“Shit, I made such a mess.” He sighed.

“Me too,” You replied honestly, “I might have to shower now.”

“Do not get me hard all over again with that image, sweetheart.” Eddie groaned and you let out a soft laugh, “I’ll give myself friction burn.”

You were howling with laughter now, your cheeks aching from smiling so much as you heard him laugh softly on the other end of the line.

“Honestly though, you know I didn’t call for that, but I’m not mad it happened.”

“So it can happen again?” You asked hopefully, already fantasising about the next time you’d get him on a call.

“Don’t get me started again, sweetheart.” He scoffed, “You’ll be the fuckin’ death of me, woman.”

“So what made you call if it wasn’t to get your dick wet?” You laughed on the other side of the line and Eddie swore he was going to fall into cardiac arrest, his heart pounding as he shook his head with a smile.

“Kinda hard for you to get my dick wet when you’re miles away.”

Shit, your chest heaved. Suddenly reminding you that he probably wasn’t even in the same state as you, and maybe you were in completely different time zones. Trying to push your sad thoughts to the back of your mind, not wanting to ruin the perfect moment for now.

“Think I still did a pretty good job,” You hummed, “You seemed to enjoy the service.”

“Fuck yeah I did, babe.” He laughed, “And what about me? What would you give me out of ten for a client?”

It hurt that he called himself a client, hoping that he’d thought of himself as slightly more. Although you supposed he was still calling you like he was just another voice on the phone, but you didn’t want him to feel like that. He was more than that to you-

“There’s no competition.” You smiled, “So you’d be the only number.”

“Wait–” He paused, “You saying you’ve never cum on the phone with anyone?”

“Not until just then,” you gasped, “I’ve never wanted to until then.”

“Fuck, you shouldn’t say shit like that to me-” It’ll have me falling for you. He wanted to say, but he didn’t, “It’s getting late, I should let you go. I gotta clean this fuckin’ mess up”

“Me too, but I don’t wanna shower.” You groaned, looking at the time when you noticed it was almost midnight.

“Then don’t,” He smirked, “Be filthy.”

“Ew,” You grinned.

“Alright, I’ll talk to you tomorrow?” You could hear the hopeful tone of his voice as he asked, your heart fluttering against your ribcage.

“I’d like that.” You smiled.

“Alright, I guess this is goodnight-”

“Wait, Eddie-” You cut him off.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“My name is-”

You’d just broken the biggest rule of being a phone sex operator– never tell a client your name. You weren’t sure what it was that made you want to tell him, but Eddie Munson wasn’t like the other guys you talked to on this line. Everything just felt different with him, and you wanted to feel the way he felt when you said his name. You didn’t want him to keep calling you the ridiculous name you’d concocted for these calls, you wanted to hear your name coming from his lips. You wanted him to think about you, the real you.

“Wait, are you serious?” He sounded excited on the other side of the line, “Is that your real name?”

“Yeah,” You breathed.

“Fuck, there ain’t a single thing about you that ain’t beautiful, huh?” You could hear the elation in his voice as you preened from his praise.

“Well, goodnight-”

Yeah, hearing your name coming from his lips? You could get used to this.

You were falling for a complete stranger, someone you knew barely anything about, you didn’t even know what he looked like– and on top of all that he was a client.

You were so fucked.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #stranger things smut

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