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sugusearrings · 6 months

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( ' safe & sound ' )

just close your eyes, the sun is going down you'll be alright no one can hurt you now come morning light you and i'll be safe and sound.

— summary: captain levi ackerman the strongest warrior alive is struggling to adjust after the war. but you (fem!reader) are there to remind him he deserves peace. — genre: fluff but tiny bit of angst. — playing: safe & sound by taylor swift — note(s): so aot just ended and i'm still in denial it's really over. my boy eren did nothing wrong but i understand, 80% is kind of a lot BUT HE WAS A CHILD WAR WEAPON. anyways, post war. SPOLIERS AHEAD JUST A FAIR WARNING OKAY. levi ackerman and reader have a slight age gape ( reader is 25 and levi is in his mid thirties). mentions of brief sex. mentions of scars and death. maybe some spelling errors i missed but i tried ~ levi may be grumpy and mean but he's a total softie to the reader. — word count: 2k

He inhaled sharply as his upper body sat up from his sleep. He could feel the cold sweat formed on his the side of his head rolling down. His chest rose up and down with each inhale he took. He ran his hand over his face. He glanced down at his hands. His two missing fingers always reminded him what happened almost five years ago now. The rumbling ending. Everyone is trying to rebuild a normal life. He never really knew what a normal life was. His life was all about fighting and survival and now it was over. What was Levi made for now?

He quickly reached over for his cane leaning against the nightstand.

Levi was determined not to be stuck to that damn chair, he did whatever exercise he could without putting too much on his body. There were some days he had to be wheeled around. But using the cane on the daily was happening often. He didn’t want to be helpless or dependent on anyone. He was never like that so why start now?

He made his way out of the bedroom and walked into the small hallway that normally took two minutes to pass but it felt entirely. He was on alert, adrenaline pumping through his veins already. How could he protect now? He felt so useless. Once the greatest warrior to this. At first it was hard accepting this new reality of his. All he wanted to do was sink more into the dark and isolate himself.

If he was gone, would anyone notice? Would anyone care? Those he loved and cared for were long gone leaving him alone. He never knew loneliness would become his true enemy.

He held his breath accepting his fate as he walked into the kitchen. His dull gray eye widen seeing you standing there already pouring some tea in one of his favorite cups. He nearly dropped his cane.

“Name…”

“Captain Levi?” You looked up at him a bit startled he was awake. He let out a heavy exhale.

“After all this time, you still callin’ me that?” He rolled his eye then shook his head. “Give me a break.” You giggled quietly with a light blush appearing on your cheeks.

“I’m sorry, it’s just an old habit I guess.”

“What are you doing up?” He asked you completely ignoring what you said.

“I figured you would want some tea when you would wake up.” You replied walking over to grab another cup from the cabinet. Levi could feel his ears beginning to burn. He cleared his throat.

“You…know?” You turned around to see the flustered older man. You tilted your head slightly to the side and was baffled. He thought he could hide his nightmares from you. His nightmares of the past.

“Of course I do.”

Your warm smile still made his heart throb the same way it did when you two met.

He found you the most annoying thing ever. You were too optimistic for his liking and you were very emotional. You were immature and very impulsive. But he adored that about you. You weren’t scared to stand up for what you believe in, even against him. When he was your captain and you were just a cadet on his squad. You two saw things from different perspectives but he respected that. He wasn’t sure if he ever told you he did.

“I’m sorry I woke you.” He made his way over to the nearest chair at the table. He pulled it out so he could sit. You took the cup full of tea and walked over to place it in front of him.

“It’s okay, Levi. Your nightmares don’t always wake me,” you placed your hand over his, “I have my own too, y’know?” You gave him a gentle squeeze.

The guilt sunk deep in Levi’s chest. How could he not think about you having your own trauma for what you both went through. Losing people you love, being injured and almost close to death several times. You had many scars to prove it. Especially the one on your neck reaching to the top of your chest. It was easier to hide but doesn’t mean it wasn’t a constant reminder when you would change outfits, shower, even during intimate times.

“I’m a horrible husband aren’t I, name?” He sighed deeply, reaching to grab his cup the same way he always has. You smiled remembering the time you made fun of the way he held his glass to your other comrades. It was all laughter until Levi was behind you the whole time. When you turned around looking white as a ghost seeing Levi glaring down at you. You screamed loudly then he made you clean his office and room from top to bottom.

“A little bit.” You teased him playfully. You grinned when your husband glared at you. “I’m kidding, Levi. How are you a bad husband?”

“My wife has fucking nightmares next to me and here I am sleeping.” He snapped. You bit your bottom lip and lowered your eyes. “But I even breathe a certain way, she knows if there’s something wrong with me.” He went on becoming more aggravated with himself.

“You’re being hard on yourself again.”

“You’re not denying it.” He countered. You sighed deeply.

“Levi…I have nightmares, yes. But you help me just by being there next to me.” You gave him another squeeze. Before he could say some smart ass remark you cut him off. “You remind me of what’s happening now. I can’t forget the past...I can never forget. But waking up next you eases it and makes it better to deal with.” Levi remained silent.

He couldn’t believe someone like you could ever love someone like him. To this day he would be in disbelief. You were so warm and he was so cold. But here you are sharing a life with him.

“You make it sound so easy.” He mumbled lowly.

“I know when you have nightmares when you hold onto me tight.” You admitted. His eye widened looking over at you. You smiled shyly looking away. You were trying to hide the dark blush on your cheeks but he would always see it. You couldn’t hide it from him.

He could remember the first time he made you blush. It was the first time he saw you with your hair down. When he complemented you ( in his own way that didn’t sound too mean ), you blushed. His heart fluttered how perfect you looked with your cheeks flushed.

“You woke up because I wasn’t in bed this time…” You spoke snapping him out of his own thoughts.

“I thought in a marriage there was no such thing as secrets.” He joked dryly.

You laughed covering your mouth with your hand. He noticed some faint scars on your hand. He remembered that scar. He remembers all the scars on every inch of your body. He would kiss them gently some nights making your breathing hitch. He would kiss the scar on your neck the most. He felt that needed the most attention. The day he almost lost you for good.

You were fighting alongside him against Zeke for the first time.

That’s when Levi realizes his feelings for you.

He stood by your side whenever he can, waiting for you to recover. He would even read out loud to you. When you woke up a few days later, you asked him to re-read the sentence he just read because you couldn’t hear him.

What nearly broke him when he thought you drank the wine with the spinal fluid.

Thankfully you didn’t but he confessed his feelings for you the same night. Yes, it was inappropriate for a caption to be with his cadet but he didn’t care about his title or yours in that moment. Levi just needed you to know in case something happened. He was ready to hear your rejection but when you confessed your own feelings for him, he was relieved.

That’s when Zeke did the explosion, Levi had enough time to push you off the wagon leaving him to suffer the injuries alone. He doesn’t regret it. He’ll do it all over again.

“Is this how you pictured how things would be after?” You asked him gently. Levi closed his eyes for a brief moment before opening them. His dull gray eyes staring into yours.

“Yes and no.”

“That’s not a fair answer, Captain Levi.”

“Name.”

“Sorry.” You held your hands up in defense. He sighed softly.

“Yes, I pictured this after the rumbling. Marrying you, having a normal life with you. Just being with you in peace. What I didn’t expect was to be like this.” He glanced down at his hand again that bandaged up from the fingers he lost from that explosion. “I wasn’t much of a looker then but god look at me now.” He let out a sad chuckle. You frowned, feeling your heart aching. Was he serious right now? You thought Levi was the most handsome man you ever met. You were drawn to his dark gray hues. During the day they would glisten.

“Levi, don’t think that. You’re still handsome to me and always will be.”

“Don’t feed me that shit, name.” Levi scoffed. His stubbornness was still the same as before. You sighed and rested your chin on your hand letting him ramble on his negativity. “Probably see me as a pity case.”

“If that’s so, why do we still make love four times a week?” You questioned. When you looked over to your husband who was silent but red in the face. You felt your lips curl up into a smirk. “Cat got your tongue, captain Levi? Oh I’m sorry, I forgot to mention how we fuck multiple times. All night if I don’t tap out.” You purred in a tone you knew was his weakness. Levi shifted a bit in his seat then brought his left hand to clear his throat.

“Shut it you brat.”

You simply smiled at your victory.

“I love you, Levi. I don’t know why you can’t accept that.”

“You deserve better.”

“So do you.” You replied back. Levi glared at you once again.

“How can you say that shit?”

“Because you’re saying it so why not?” You shrugged then got up to pour yourself that tea you swore it was cold by now. Levi’s eye scanned down to your body how it hid underneath his white shirt. When you would lift to reach something it exposed some of your bare flesh underneath. He held his breath for a moment.

“I just…hope this is what you want.” His voice spoke. You didn’t turn around. Your eyes glanced down at your cup you were holding. Your ring finger was empty but the silver band stood on your nightstand with your glass of water that was empty now. Levi would always bring you a glass of water before bed.

“I want to spend my life with you, Levi. We’re at peace now. You’re at peace. You deserved this. You risked your life so many times. Everyday it’s a struggle for you to live with what happened. But we can do it together, just trust me?”

You turned with glossy eyes staring back over to him. He used his strength to stand up on his own for a moment. Then he made his way over to you. Once he was close enough, he placed his hand on your cheek just studying your face.

“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings…I’m just scared to lose you.” He confessed not trying to make eye contact with you. You placed your hand on his cheek and stroked it with your thumb. You stroked over the scars left behind by the stitches on his face you did for him. “I don’t know what I would do if I ever lost you.”

“I survived to live a life with you, Levi.”

You whispered then leaned forward to place your lips against his. His arm wrapped around your waist to bring you closer to his body. His lips moved against yours passionately. He pushed his body against yours causing your lower back to press against the counter. You let out a shaky breath when he broke the kiss then started to kiss along your neck. His fingers trailed down to the buttons on your shirt. Just when you were going to close your eyes and enjoy his lips sucking on your skin you were interrupted.

“Mommy? Daddy?”

You both pulled away at the same time to see a groggy toddler with messy dark hair all over the place. He hugged his stuffed bear tightly with his other arm.

“Hi baby.” You greeted him softly making. Levi straighten your shirt making sure the buttons were still in tact.

“What are you doing up, hm?” Levi asked him. The toddler frowned with his gray eyes half open.

“I wanna sleep with you and mama.” He made grabby hands towards him. He shook his head.

“Sorry kid, you have to go sleep in your bed like a big boy.” Your son sniffed and his big gray eyes began to water. Of course you were a sucker but you didn’t expect for Levi to be the one who caved in. “Tsk. Fine. Just for tonight.” Levi grabbed his cane and began to walk back into your bedroom. The little boy’s eyes beamed, making you giggle quietly. You brought the two cups to the sink thinking you were in the clear.

“Clean those damn cups.” Levi’s voice echoed from the bedroom.

You sucked your teeth with an eye roll.

“I’ll clean them in the morning.” You entered the bedroom seeing Levi already in bed. He leaned over to bring his son into bed. He snuggled up against his father, sighing happily feeling his warmth. You went over to your side on the bed to lay next to your son.

Levi always spoke about not wanting children. You didn’t have a clear answer if you wanted them or not. Some days you did but bringing them in a world like this wasn’t fair either. But finding out you were pregnant on your wedding day was a surprise. It meant you were pregnant during the fight that stopped the rumbling.

It was a miracle the child growing inside of you survived. But he’s a fighter like his father.

Asher Levi Ackerman.

A fortunate blessing for you both.

You leaned against the headboard stroking Asher’s hair as his eyes began to close.

“He looks just like you.” You whispered to Levi as you moved some of Asher’s dark hair out of his face. He smiled a bit.

“You think so?”

“Everyone says it. He looks nothing like me.”

“But he acts like you. A brat.”

You reached over to shove him playfully. It made him chuckle.

“Sleep, name. We have a long day at the shop tomorrow.”

“Fuck me.” You mumbled under your breath with a groan.

“Maybe tomorrow.”

Levi laid down and closed his eyes hearing you giggle quietly before drifting back to sleep. You laid down staring at your son and husband cuddling with one another. You could tell Levi’s nightmare was over for the night. You soon drifted into a deep slumber.

And yes, you did forget to wash the teacups in the sink

But Levi washed them before opening the tea shop for the day but he did remember to scold you about it.

#drabbles #levi x reader #levi x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman fluff #aot x female reader #aot fanfic #aot fanfiction #attack on titan fanfic #attack on titan drabble #( sugusearrings writing * )

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violet-phoenix-nebula · 1 year

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At some point in time, I'll be coughing up a Titanic (1997) fix it fic, dedicated to my mom. ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

#titanic 1997 #titanic #jack dawson #rose dewitt bukater #rose dawson #in memory #fanfiction #fanfic #titanic film #titanic fanfic #is that even a thing?#titanic was her favorite movie #I know she'd have loved it if I wrote a fix it for her to read #rip mom

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angelltheninth · 1 year

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hii could i req for a red hood jealousy smut? been thinkin abt him recently (only if ur not busy!) tysmm btw i love love your fics :))

Jealousy can make sex so much better. Or so I hear.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, jealousy, semi-public sex, alleyway sex, rough sex, possessive sex, creampie

A/N: A delicious little smut blurb for you to indulge in. Enjoy.

Everyone who knew Jason knew he had a jealous streak in him, a vengeful streak, a slightly sadistic one as well. You knew it well and you craved to see that side of him come out for you more. Which is why you had no problem with him dragging you out of the club you'd been dancing in and fucking you in the dim, empty alleyway behind the club.

"Good for you babe, finally getting what you fucking wanted!" Jason dug his fingers into your ass cheeks as he used them to hold you up against the wall. "Pretty bold of you, entertaining those shitbags while I'm bringing you drinks. Thank fuck your pussy is right here for me otherwise I'd do a lot more then throw those drinks into their faces." Jason's pants were all the way down his legs, gathered up around his boots as he kept increasing his punishing pace.

You fisted your hands through his hair and pulled him closer, "You love fucking me like this. I know you do. And I... I need it hard tonight, please Jason."

"You could have asked like a normal person. But no you had to go and play as a fucktoy. In a club we frequent. You know damn well I'd give you anything. You will take anything, no, everything I have to give you as your punishment." He couldn't keep the possessive look off his face, couldn't stop his lips from clamming your lips, your throat, your shoulders, your collarbones, "Mine." He growled, "You're mine. This is mine. This sloppy, tight cunt is all mine. Those guys are lucky I even let them lay eyes on you."

"If I'm yours then you better prove it Jason." And he knew exactly how. Undeniable proof. Warm, thick cum pumping into your pussy, flowing down your thighs, staining your clothes, "Yes, mmn, more, you have more for me? I don't think I've learned my lesson yet." You clenched your pussy around him, trying to squeeze out as much cum as you could. He had much more to give, more then you can take in fact. His cum will be staining his bike seat for sure by the time he's done laying his claim.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd smut #jason todd fanfiction #titans x reader #titans #titans smut #dc #dc imagine #dc fanfic #dc x reader #dc smut #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #red hood fanfiction #red hood smut

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erenthology · 7 months

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Assertive

Rugby boyfriend!Eren x fem!reader

collage au, possessive but in an infatuated boyfriend type of way. Size differences are mentioned. No matter your size, Eren is bigger than you. (Note: going to be more active now that Aot is ending. Feel free to send requests ♡)

I don’t mind if you’re ignoring me, cuz I’m ignoring you. “ he watches you bounce around the room in your thin, white nightdress.

You continue looking for your phone, ignoring him. There’s no way you haven’t searched every inch of his dorm room by now, so you finally look at him. He’s laying on the bed shirtless, hands behind his neck, looking at you innocently. That f’ckin bastard.

“Do you have my phone, Eren?”

He flashes his teeth, “ugh, baby, you have no idea how nice it is to hear your voice again. C’mere.” he pats his lap.

You sternly put your hand on top of your hip, arching it to the side, giving Eren the perfect view. “Do you have it or not?” He doesn’t even try to hide his smirk.

”Do I? I'm not sure. You should come over and look,” stretching his arms out in an inviting pose.

Earlier, Eren’s roommate, Floch, made a joke about how he can hear when you and Eren are having sex. When you told Eren, he rushed out of the room and ordered Floch to apologize. Completely scolding him like a dad. You felt embarrassed since you didn’t want his friends to think you can’t take a joke.

You know he’s just going to grab and pull you towards him, so instead, you start walking towards the door. Eren tenses immediately and rushes towards you,

‘’Hey, hey” he grabs your hand. ”where do you think you’re going?’’ he questions with furrowed eyebrows.

‘’To ask if the guys have they’ve seen it?’’

His eyes flash red for a second. To have his friends see the outline of your nipples through that thin fabric of your so called pajamas? He looks you up and down, nope, not happening. You should be wearing his t-shirts to bed anyway.

‘’Not like that, you’re not,’’ he gives you an ‘’end of discussion’’ look, but you huff and turn anyway. Not that you get far at all, he has you slung over his shoulders before you’ve even fully turned.

The con of having a rugby player as a boyfriend is that he throws you around a lot without so much as breaking a sweat. When you’re mad at him, he has this irritating habit of lifting you off the ground and cuddling you until you’ve cooled down. Claiming it “breaks his heart watching you walk away angry.”

He walks towards the bed, ignoring your fists punching at his back. “You’re such a brat sometimes.” He doesn't mind at all though, Eren has the patience of a saint when it comes to his girl, he enjoys being the one to set you straight.

He carefully lies you down on his bed, positions himself on top and grins, ‘’gotcha,’’ then smacks a kiss on your cheek. ‘’You’re annoying.” you pinch his ear in retaliation.

“Ow, hey, you know you’re stronger than you look.” he scratches his reddened ear. ‘’I'm being deadass, baby, you could go pro in armwrestling or some shit.’’ You burst out laughing over how dramatic he’s being and his eyes lit up from the sound. Your smile always captivates him.

Feeling yourself being stared at, you grin cheekily, unable to hide your smile “weirdo, stop staring,’’ brushing your fingers against his stubble. His eyes follow the movement of your hand and begin tracing the shape of your figure when all of a sudden he starts attacking you in tickles.

You’re both advancing on each other playfully, laughing hysterically. In an attempt to roll out of his reach, Eren quickly reacts by by grabbing your hands and pins them above your head. The laughter is quickly replaced with heavy pants as you stare at him naively, your chest rising up and down.

Snapping out of his thoughts, he lets go of his grip and rests his head on your chest, “you know, it doesn’t matter if you’re mad. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable staying here.’’ he gently admits, then lifts his head,

‘’plus, I’m the only one who has a say about you in bed.” he wiggles his eyebrows.

“Gross,’’ you push his chest, apparently amusing him by the look on his face. ‘‘but it’s fine, really. I just wanted to ignore the situation, but I guess he should learn that not everything needs to be said.’’ At this, he grins and takes ahold of your chin,

‘’that’s a good girl.’’

You ignore the heat rising in your face and smack his hand away when you suddenly remember, ‘’speaking off, where is my phone? You know I need to do my nightly routine check.’’

He knows. It’s the reason he slipped it under his pillow the moment you started throwing a fit. It’s nice having the most predictable girl on the planet. ‘’You can do it later, let a man enjoy his girl for a moment. You can be mad at me after.’’

‘’I'm not mad at you’’ you look genuinely offended, causing him to snicker. “Besides, I kinda liked the whole sexy, scolding dad thing you had going on. It was kinda turning me on,” you admit, looking straight into his eyes.

His hands on your hips stiffen instantly and his whole demeanor changes. “Don’t even joke, [name] I will put a baby in you right this second,” large hands grab your ass and starts grinding your body against his.

You attempt to leave but he drags you right back, looking at you confused. Looking down, you purr, “I really need to do my routine check,” sticking out your lower lip for extra effect.

You love to rile him up and have him mock you for being greedy and bratty. His face gets closer to yours with his eyebrows all furrowed.

“Did you just pout at me?”

“Nuh uh,” you lie and tease your hand against his belt, Eren’s eyes follow your movements then trace back up to your face, where you’re innocently meeting his eyes.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and looks down at your hand playing against his bulge. ‘’You wanna get fucked?’’ he spits with disgust, or admiration. It’s hard to tell with him.

“Know you enjoy keeping me on edge, acting all innocent when we both know,” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, eyes lingering just a second too long on your lips. Thoughts on ways to tame you running wild in his head.

‘’Telling me it turned you on when I was commanding,’’ he shakes his head as if disappointed.‘’It's good I’m here to keep you in line. A girl like you needs that.’’

You feel the imprint of him on your stomach as his hips press you down on the bed, leaving you no space to leave. You try your best to keep your voice steady. “Just wanna make you happy,’ you breathe out. He almost laughs.

“You know what would make me happy?‘’ Eren stands and lifts you up with him.

‘’you with my cock in your mouth.” You almost go limp in his arms from how lewd he's being.

Giving you an expectant look, he nudges your nose with his, “are you waiting for something? get to work.” he guides you down on your knees towards his crotch. The carnal look in his eyes makes you fumble a bit with his belt, but Eren is patient. Sometimes you suspect he enjoys seeing you nervous to perform for him.

Pressing a kiss on the tip, he returns his gratitude by patting your hair in a domineering act, “make me proud.’’ he smiles, in which you relish. Keeping eye contact, you swirl your tongue around his shaft before hollowing your cheeks and start working your way down. You can’t help but gag at his size, no matter how often you blow him.

It’s been quiet for some time now and you’re growing impatient with the lack of praise. You decide to look up at him through the tears in your eyes and catch him smiling down at you. The scene feels so filthy you can’t help but slyly drag your fingers over your panties to relieve some of the pressure, secretly humping your hips against your hand to the sound of his pants.

He just nearly cums in your mouth when he notices what you’re up to. Shamelessly playing with yourself, mouth filled with cock, you look straight out of Eren’s nastiest fantasies, it was perfect.

He bends down and pulls your hand out from under your nightdress, “Not yet, need you to be a good girl for me.’’ Then he does the hottest thing all night, he leans down to give it a kiss. You love him. He makes you feel like a princess getting fucked by her knight.

Feeling enthusiastic again, you eagerly reach for him to continue where you left off, but are stopped yet again. Whining, you wait for him any sort of command, just to do something, anything! but he looks so unaffected it’s making you wail even louder.

“stop whining, you don’t deserve to suck my dick.” Despite the warning, you almost do it again but stop yourself when you notice the glare you’re given. “But I really needa feel you, Eren. It hurts down there.” you were so wet it felt like you were about to explode from the lack of release.

He's only a man after all, even he has his limits when you wail pathetically about how wet your pussy is. Now he needs to have a look. He pulls you up by your torso, ‘’does sucking me off make you wet?’’ You nod and visibly see his ego lit up.

A thin sheen of sweat connects your bodies as he effortlessly carries you over to his bed. You take advantage of your flexibility and spread your legs as far apart as you can once he lays you down, earning a groan out of him.

He doesn't hesitate a moment further to push his face in there and peek under your dress. “such a pretty cunt, princess. no idea how often I jerk off thinking about it, about this,” kissing through your soaked panties. Your hips jerk upwards at his erotic words, desperate for friction.

“Eren, please”

He pushes your panties to the side but keeps them on. It’s like he’s so needy for you he can’t be bothered to take off either of your clothes properly, but patient enough to check out every inch of you as if seeing you like this for the first time.

Eren’s broad body consumes your smaller frame as you lie beneath him. You love this feeling, him shielding your body from anyone and anything but himself.

His ring covered fingers play softly with your bud, observing your reactions before lining himself against you, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your skin. The sight of Eren being almost abnormally endeavored by your pussy as he spits on his hand and pumps his cock, increases the heat pooling in your abdomen.

You lie still, enjoying the sensation of him rubbing and tapping himself against you. His eyes are fixated entirely on your cunt and you enjoy every bit of the attention. Not to say you’re not curious about what goes on in his mind when he’s focused and quiet like this. Like your body is art and he is studying and memorizing every part of it.

Once satisfied, he pushes through the tight hindrance and sucks in a breathe, “oh, fuck.” and finally looks up at you. His heart stops a beat when he’s reminded of how beautiful you are. The urge to hide you away from anyone's eyes but his, hits him strong but he bites it back.

Time slows for a moment as you both take each other in through half lidded eyes, and for some reason, your vision has never been as clear. His fingers thread through yours as he leans in for a kiss. When he pulls away, your eyes are still closed. Eren grins and places one last kiss on your forehead before thrusting his way in.

He’s fucking you with his hips, hard. Hands pressing down your pelvic, holding you still for him to ram into. The strap of your nightdress has slightly fallen down your shoulders, so he pushes the fabric that’s hiding you from him down further, and exposes your breasts. The moan he lets out from the sight is pure filth.

‘’Touch yourself.’’ he demanded, pupils dilated. With glazed over eyes, you comply and start playing with yourself, twisting and grazing your nipples. The act drives him to lift your hips to reach deeper into you,’’really thought i’d let you walk out of my room looking like this.’’ he grows almost annoyed at the thought.

Tenderly cupping his cheek, he almost flinches from how lovingly you’re looking at him, “You’re all I want, Eren.’’ and he almost melts. When you say things like that it makes him want to keep you to himself even more, resting his forehead against yours, he looks at you with almost a pained expression. ‘’that’s good, because i'm a selfish man.’’

With your legs lifted around his waist and upper body sprawled on the bed, you’re essentially at his mercy as he connects your bodies in repeated thrusts. Again, again and again, the sound of him pushing into you echoes in the room.

He fucks like a deprived man and speaks like a man in love. “Does it feel good, princess?’’ You nod with lovestruck eyes. ‘’Yeah? taking me so well. making me so proud.’’ The pressure feels too intense, about to snap.

He’s stretching you on his cock and looking straight into your eyes as he's doing it. Your body dissolves into pleasure as you writhe beneath him.

Your body starts squirming uncontrollably, causing him to grip your hips ever tighter, overpowering you in strength. You let out a loud sob and rake your nails on his back when your vision suddenly fades to black. He stares at you, astonished.

He raises an eyebrow, “did you just cum?” the thusting has stopped completely now but you felt his dick twitch inside you as he asked. “Tried to hold it in for you,” you stare back apologetically, eyes still sprinkled with lust. Best part is, he knows you didn’t. And you know it too.

“Turn around,” he orders. You obey and slump towards the bed with your back against him, hiding your face in the pillows. “Don’t act all shy with me now, let’s see your face,” he leaves no room for discussion, so you slowly turn your head and face him. He looks so big staring down at you from your vulnerable position. “That’s a good, good girl.”

Next thing you know, your cheeks are being spread and played with. Still high on ecstasy from the orgasm you just had, the energy to perform is nonexistent, so he does the job for you.

Huge hands angle your limp body upwards, then press down your back to create a beautiful arch, only for his eyes to admire. He sinks back inside and buries his cock in your warmth.

It’s hard maintaining eye contact with him when he’s like this, it feels so shameless, almost taboo, still, you can’t look away. He’s pounding into you, pulling your hips hard against him.

“This is what you’re making me do, looking at me like that. No one else will ever be able to see you like this,” he occupies his thumb by rubbing it over your clit. The contact is so delicate but rapid nonetheless.

You nod agreeably, barely able to register his words. “Are you close, Eren?’’

“Yeah,” his hands pressed down tightly on your lower abdomen, the scream you let out is almost inhumane. ‘’yes, yes.” you’re grinding back against him in heated motions, shockwaves of heat pumping through your body.

He snaps his pelvic against your ass and feels you sucking him right back in. He thinks back to what you said before about him as a dad and his eyes roll back. The thought of you carrying his child inside you makes him come undone.

“Ugh, fuck.” He comes audibly high etc, covering you in his cum. You expect him to catch his breath but he smoothly regains his composure and pushes you on your back, his thumb finding its way right back to your clit, barely even getting started before leading you to your second orgasm.

You scream in pleasure as he cups your face, lips brushing against your ear. “That's it, princess, you did so well for daddy. made me so proud.” he praises as he pushes your hair out of your face.

The lack of response makes him laugh, realizing he’d fucked you to sleep, litterally. chuckling, he grabs a warm cloth and cleans you up to his best effort.

You’re usually sleepy right after sex so this is a regular routine for you both. He smacks a kiss on the top of your head and covers you with his comforter then goes for a shower.

Once he’s done, he carries you up bridal style to the bathroom. “Wake up, sleepy.” he’s back to his sweet self. You grunt in response. “C’mon, you need to pee.’’ It’s true, so you comply and he leaves you to it.

This is a conversation you’ve both had before, he feels no need to leave when you do your business but you’ve kicked him out enough times so he knows the drill by now. Eren changes the bedsheets while you clean up.

When finished, you walk back to the bed and he opens his arm for you to rest on, your phone lying beside him. You jump at the invitation and he hugs you towards him, ‘’what do you feel like eating?’’ he’s playing with your hair as you lie comfortably on his arm.

“Not hungry.’’ you murmur.

Eren fights the urge to sigh. “Sorry, not up for debate.’’ He saves himself the trouble and orders for you both, knowing you’ll feel hungry once you see him eat.

When the food arrives, you end up wanting exactly what Eren ordered for himself.

‘’You’re a big baby.’’ he sulks and rolls his eyes, but feeds you nonetheless. You don’t miss the look on his face as you take a bite from his hand. One thing about Eren? he can and will fuck multiple times a day if you let him.

‘’down, boy. i’m not tryna have my guts rearranged after eating food.’’

He grins, ‘’I didn’t say anything’.’ knowing he’ll do exactly that when you’re done eating.

1K notes · View notes

2neaky · 9 days

Text

Any Means Necessary.3

Stalker!Ony x Black!Reader

Onyankopon's growing obsession with Y/N, a young woman he happened to stumble upon in his city, leads him to a spot right outside of her bathroom window. He's a peeper, but he's got no shame.

Part 1, Part 2

7.5k words! Not rlly edited

Warnings: MDNI, nonconsensual stalking, nonconsensual m*sturbation to Y/N (Y/N is unaware of it), obscene & highly descriptive language, explicit s*xual content, mention & use of a s*x toy, an*l & an*l play, p*netration (p in v), dubious consent, breathplay, slight possessiveness, c*rvix kissing, an unrealistic amount of fluids (or maybe it is realistic, who knows), unprotected s*x (don't do this), use of outdated term "clean" to describe the status of one's s*xual health

Banners by @rookthornesartistry & @chaeneuu

Tag list: @simpingfor-wakasa @ciaqui

Snowfall started around eight o’clock, and it’s far too dark for anyone to be outside at this time.

And that’s good.

The darkness makes it easier to hide.

For too long, Ony had thought of how he would make his way into her house. He’s played it over in his head so many fucking times he could do the plan with his eyes closed.

He heads straight for the back door, his decided entrance into the condo.

The lock is simple, far too easy to pick. Its click brings a jovial look to his face in the darkness.

He pushes the door open carefully, slinking into the dark house like a shadow.

His heavy boots land on the door mat placed at the door. Smart enough not to track the snow inside, he toes them off.

The nylon material of his jacket risks him being heard before being seen. And that simply can’t do.

The low whine of the zipper sounds until the jacket is fully open. He shrugs off the coat, letting it pool on the ground near his snow-crusted shoes.

Now, only in a shirt and sweats, he looks just like he lives here. Belonging with her.

His chest swells with a large inhale. Her home has a soft, powdery sweet scent.

He’s never gotten close enough to smell her. He wonders if she smells like her home, too, or if she has her own individual scent that depends on which perfume she chooses for the day.

Another thing he notices—the relative quietness of the home.

No pets either.

They would have sniffed him out by now or barked once they heard the intrusion.

But, he keeps still anyway, trying to source out any other sounds.

What he does hear is distant, playing softly; Music.

She’s upstairs.

In the dark, he makes out the staircase over near the front door. The condo is a fairly new construction. What are the chances of her having creaky steps already?

He’ll have to test them out now, won’t he?

With caution, he mounts the stairs. As he climbs, he considers the possibility of getting caught for the first time ever.

He isn’t really scared. If after all this time, Y/N hadn’t realized that she was being stalked, he has nothing to fear.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Ony surveys the dark hallway. The music has gotten louder.

No wonder she didn’t hear him come in.

The floors don’t creak either as he walks, yet he remains careful.

It isn’t hard to find her; Light spills through a crack in the doorway of room much further down. The music continues to increase in volume as he nears it.

He’s quiet as he saddles up to the crack in the door. Hidden by the darkness, he takes his chance to peak inside: Sitting at the foot of her bed, Y/N stares down at a pink box in her hands.

A champagne colored, satin robe covers her body, but it’s slipping. The front is more open than it should be, giving him sight of her deep cleavage, all the way down to just above her navel. One leg crossed over the other, the expanse of her thigh is exposed.

Her skin is shiny and smooth. And her hair is under a scarf.

She just did her nightly routine, he’s sure of it. Her face is gleaming with serums and all the other shit women like her tend to use in their elaborate skin care routine.

His cum on her face would have the same effect. In fact, he’ll bet that it’ll look even better.

Y/N continues to stare down at the box, nibbling on her bottom lip in thought. The moment of contemplation lasts only a minute more before she decides to open it up.

His eyes fall to the ground, seeing the empty black gift bag at her feet and the pink tissue paper strewn around.

If Ony didn’t look back up in time, he would have missed her pulling it out of the box; A decently sized, fairly girthy dildo.

He almost chokes on his own air.

Y/N discards the box in the same fashion she did the gift bag. Her soft pink frenchies frame the toy perfectly. YA perfectly chosen color. Her fingers don’t even wrap all the way around it.

It’s looks almost like his. He has half the mind to think she was actually stalking him.

Nevertheless, the all too realistic design makes it easier to imagine her holding him instead. The thought sends his blood rushing south.

She stands from the bed to head into the connected bathroom. He licks his lips, watching the way her ass moves with each step underneath her robe.

He can hardly hear the running of the faucet over the music. A minute or two passes before it’s shut off and she reemerges from the bathroom.

Her robe has slipped further down, the belt virtually untied at this point. In her hand, the toy drips with water. She rests it on the bed side table, standing upright.

She pulls at the remaining inch of the belt and he watches her robe falls open like it’s nothing. For a second, the only thing exposed is her pussy—his favorite sight. Then she makes the smallest movement, and the ends of her robe fall away from her hardened nipples. Her dark areaolas steal his eyes away.

Y/N shirks the robe off of her shoulders and throws it down at the foot of the bed before climbing into it.

Naked against the sheets, she falls back against the pillows. She releases a sigh loud enough for him to hear. She grabs up her phone previously buried in the sheets. As she taps away on the device, one leg raises, knee pointed up to the ceiling.

Her face isn’t as clear as it previously was, but the new position gives him too good of a view of the pool in between her legs. Though, he would love to see her further spread open—get a better view of the bubble gum pink hidden by her pudgy lips.

A manicured hand slithers down the smooth plane of her toned stomach and between her thick thighs. With a touch so gently, she caresses her fat mound softly.

The way her body relaxes is so beautiful to him.

She rubs herself over and over, hand running over her lips with every pass. Until she presses a finger between them. Her body barely tenses as she applies the tiniest bit of pressure to her clit.

Her legs part wider and she spreads herself with her fingers. All the while, she maintains a stoic expression as she scrolls through her phone.

Nevertheless, when she opens up, he finally sees the tiny pink pearl protected by its hood. Her middle finger reaches down to circle it at a slow and calm pace.

Her glossed lips part, whatever sound that comes out of them he doesn’t hear as her head further sinks into the pillow behind her.

Her ring finger joins the middle one. Together, they pick up the pace by just a fraction. The pressure is a smidge greater.

He swallows back a moan, seeing her grow wet at her own touch. Her small hole clenches, pushing out a small gush of liquid that trickles down her crack. It seeps into the sheets beneath, creating a wet spot.

As Y/N continues to rub, never letting up, her face twitches and her hips stutter. She inches farther up on the bed, biting down on her bottom lip. The rubbing halts as she does a quick swipe down her pussy before continuing. Her lips are shining with the spread of her arousal.

God, he wonders what she sounds like.

She releases her bottom lip, mouth hanging open. A mewl leaves her. She cups herself in an attempt to suspend her orgasm.

Her whimper is soft and cute, he catches just a peak of it over the music. And she’s just too needy, too desperate for her own nut.

Hungry for some kind of friction, she resumes the action, building back up to a fairly quick pace. Her juices give too much of a slip. Nevertheless, her thighs flex. Her hips twitch.

“Mmh … hah—“

A tiny splurge of squirt splashes against her own fingers. It’s a polite little stream, one that’s got her hips canting into her hand, chasing after another release far too soon.

But rubbing isn’t good enough. Immediately, she switches to a firm hand, giving her clit three quick slaps. The pudge of her lips tremble with each one.

“Oh—fuck!”

She throws her head back. A squirt or two more burst from her, each weaker than the original one. And when she gets too weak for that, she rides out her orgasm with more rubbing.

Finally, her leg slips down the bed. Her body slumps and her hand ceases to move.

The wet spot beneath her ass has gotten considerably bigger, however, it’s still rather small.

Behind the door, Ony watches with a hand down his pants, fisting himself so hard that it’s he’s going dizzy. When his release is just at its peak, he squeezes himself to keep himself from falling over the cliff. He can’t cum too quick. Since the gym, he knew that next time he would come, he’d want it to be inside of her.

Finally, Y/N moves again, this time, stretching to grab the dildo and lube. Cracking the small bottle open, she pours some out on her fingertips. She slathers it all over the toy, making it glisten.

Spreading her legs once again, he sees her greedy hole clenches around nothing until it pushes out a dribble of soft vanilla-colored cream from her last orgasm.

“Shit,” his voice wavers.

She rubs the tip of the dildo between her lips, mixing and spreading her cum all over her lips and clit. It’s messy and sticky, thin strings of white pulling from her skin to the deep brown silicone.

His dick jumps, the wet spot in his boxers grow.

The toy looks like it has some weight to it. She does a light tap against her clit, shuddering. It makes a soft smack against her.

There goes that lip biting again. She makes circles with the thick head, coaxing herself into opening. Her arm tenses as she applies more and more pressure to the toy.

Just a little … bit … more—

The head pops through, plunging into her warmth. She breathes harder, working it deeper into herself. In and out, in and out. Soft white pearls at the mouth of her cunt, dripping down in thick beads the deeper the toy goes.

When she gets it halfway, she pulls it out. And he would have paid anything to hear the creamy sound her pussy made.

A long, thick rope of goo stretches between her cunt and the toy. The bottom half of the dildo’s length is painted in so much white, it’s almost hard to see the original color of its deep brown beneath.

“Fuck,” she breathes out, high pitched and needed.

She taps her cunt with it, even more aroused by her own sticky mess smeared all over her. Again, she plunges it back in, like she knew her pussy had missed the fullness.

And it pulls a ragged moan out of her. So fucking filthy. Her painted toes curl against the sheets, back arching with every other inch she works into herself.

Y/N keeps going until it’s all the way in, stuffing her greedy little hole, forcing more and more scandalous sounds out of her mouth.

She’s wreck, her hole swallowing around the toy, pushing out more and more globs of cum. It cakes the sliver of space between her ass cheeks, obscured by the winking of her second hole.

Y/N doesn’t give her body the chance to push out on this. Keeping a hand pressed to the toy’s base, she forces herself to get used to taking something this big.

It’s almost too much. Ony is sinking his nails into the palms of his hands, hopelessly trying to keep himself from finishing. The way she’s stretched open, repeatedly clamping down on it.

Greedy ass pussy.

His dick is pulsing, balls pulled so tight, and aching for release. He doesn’t know if he’ll last before getting in her.

Y/N shudders, hips moving mindlessly as she goes dumb over a stupid toy. She fucks deeply, mixing her guts with it. It pulls a shaky cry out of her, eyes squeezed shut.

She practically gushes around the toy. The milky white gets practically everywhere. Beneath her, the puddle only grows. And the tremble in her legs is so bad she can no longer keep them up.

Teeth bared, she hisses as she pulls it all out again.

Unbelievable.

It’s almost ridiculous how messy she’s got. The toy is dripping, the poor thing practically drowned out by her.

Y/N gives herself a chance to get a breath in before slamming the toy back in. It punches the air out of her, a loud squelch the only thing to soften the wet fart her pussy makes.

It’s amazing that he heard it over the music.

She freezes, whimpering like she had just hit the perfect spot. Her body crumbles. But she continues the assault on her pitiful little pussy, battering it with the deep strokes.

A thick ring of white froths at the base of the toy, growing every time it meets at the mouth of her cunt. It becomes enough that it gets all over her fingers, and oozing onto the bed.

Her sheets are a mess.

“F-fuck … fuuuck, Daddyy,” she groans. Her eyes roll back.

Her pussy is a sopping, sloppy mess, thanking her quite loudly as she feeds it what it wants.

But Ony knows that he’s what she really needs.

Her moans grow louder, more desperate, as she tries to claim another orgasm. At this point, she’s not even sure how many she’s had.

“Shit … shit—“

“That’s right, get it out. Get that nut...”

It takes far too many seconds for the new voice to register in her fucked out, hazy brain.

Her eyes peel open to see the tall figure leaning against the entrance of her room.

His head almost grazes the top of the doorframe. Thick, muscular arms trail down into the pockets of his sweats. Sweats that do nothing to hide how hard his dick is.

Fear finally strikes through her, and the sensible part of her brain tells her to cover up.

The attempt is cute, pathetic, even: She barely manages to conceal her body. Her breasts spill through her splayed fingers, and her other hand hovers over her messy pussy.

“W-what are you doing here?” The tremble in her already small voice, brings an even bigger smile out of him.

“Oh, don’t lemme stop you. I’m just here for what’s mine, Y/N.”

All the air leaves her chest as he says her name. His tongue bends around it perfectly, like he’d practiced saying it for this moment.

She clenches around the toy. “Wh-who are you?“

“I been watching you.”

She shrinks in on herself, like a scared little bunny, cornered by its predator.

“I-is it money? Do y-you want money—”

“Nah,” he shakes his head. “I want you, mama.”

Her mouth never closes, too scared to speak yet fearing what might happen if she were silent.

“H-how did you get in my house?”

He rolls his lips for a second, eyes never leaving her body. “Should really get a better lock.”

Tears well up in her deep-brown eyes, threatening to spill over onto the already dewy fat of her cheeks.

“P-please, please—don’t hurt me—“

“No, no—c’mon, Y/N. C’mon now,” he coos, stepping to the bed.

She inches back, the heel of her foot slipping against the puddle of wetness she had created all on her own. She can chance running, but how well will that work? Her previous orgasms have turned her limbs to jell-o.

“I ain’t tryna hurt you. I’m just tryna make you feel good.”

She glances back down at his dick, poking through the sweats. He doesn’t even stop himself, gripping at his erection. She forgets how to breathe for a second: He’s impossibly hard … and thick.

Y/N desperately tries not to acknowledge the way her pussy clamps down on the toy. Her chest tightens as she looks back into his eyes.

“I know you been lonely. Ain’t got nobody to talk to … no one who knows your body—could make it feel good. I wanna do that, so let me.”

How long has he been watching her? Why? He told her, but she just doesn’t get it! What is he getting out of this?

“Lemme make you feel good, Y/N. Don’t make me beg for it.”

Her lips part, yet she stops herself before her mouth starts moving. She catches him staring harder than he should.

Some part of her brain loves the attention she’s getting, it’s been a long time since that’s happened. But she reminds herself that this is ultimately a terrible thing that she shouldn’t find enjoyment—of any measure—in.

Watching his face closely, she attempts to sear the details of his face into her brain. He’s not ugly, far from it. If he wasn’t a fucking creep, she might’ve even approached him in a bar or at the club.

A well groomed beard, pristine waves, plump lips, high cheekbones, and a nose that would make riding a face the most pleasant experience ever.

She blinks, throwing away the thought.

“Y/N…”

Her name makes a low rumble in his chest.

“A-and you—you’re not gonna hurt me?”

He shakes his head. “Not unless you want me to.” He licks his lips before they spread into a grin.

God, she just can’t help it. He was right, she needs this. She’s desperate for it. Desperate for someone to come and fuck her so good that her she goes stupid—cock-drunk.

“Are you clean?” Her voice is much quieter than before.

There goes that charming smile of his again.

“As a whistle.”

She eyes him carefully.

“I’ll stop the second you tell me,” he mumbles, dark eyes zeroing in on the spot between her legs.

She’s got no reason to trust the guy who stalked her and broke into her home. If she says yes, she’ll be making the stupidest decision of a lifetime.

“O-okay.”

He closes the space between him and the bed. In seconds he’s rounding her side, standing over her smaller figure.

“You’on know how long I waited for this.”

Before she can ask, a heavy hands clasps around one of her ankles. Her heart leaps out of her chest as he drags her to the edge of the bed.

He hangs her legs around his waist like a belt. Y/N resists the urge to close them around him.

Up close, her pussy is a dream. A sticky, drooling mess of cum. She’s stretched so wide around the toy, her puffy lips pulled taut.

Licking at his lips, Ony yanks his shirt over his head. It’s tossed to the ground behind him.

He notices how she still hides her chest from him.

“You hiding from me?”

She shakes her head quickly, eyes still wide.

“Good, ‘cause I seen it already.” He pulls her hands away, gently. “So fuckin’ perfect,” he sighs out.

He brings a hand to cup her left breast, thumbing at her stiff nipple. He barely hears her whimper over the music before pinching at her.

Her back arches, beautifully, chest bouncing as she does so. He leans down, capturing the right nipple in his mouth.

Another sound, which he can barely fucking hear.

The hand on her breast lifts, traveling to grasp her neck as the other sinks past her tummy. Her chest billows, air stuck in her throat as he switches over to suckle at the left nipple.

He caresses the creamy mess of her pussy. Her hips chase after his hand, rutting into it when he runs his fingers through her folds. Middle and ring finger joined, he rubs with suitable pressure against her thumping clit.

A weak moan tumbles past her lips. He pulls off of her.

“Low down the music.”

His voice is gruff, she can’t even tell that she’s gotten wetter.

“M-my phone.”

He pulls away for just a second, using her phone to lower the volume. The Twitter video she had playing has long since paused. He clicks the phone off, tossing it God knows where.

His hand returns to her neck, squeezing as he plays in the mess of her pussy. Her cunt squishes against his fingers, quite loudly.

She whimpers in embarrassment, looking away.

“Fuck,” he moans, watching her clamp around the toy.

Slowly, her embarrassment burns away as she slips deeper into pleasure. Switching his positioning, the rough pad of his thumb slips and slides against her, causing her head to fall back and her eyes to slip closed.

His hand leaves her clit to go lower. A sharp gasp falls from her lips as the toy is tugged at by its base.

“Lemme help you with that,” he rasps just before pulling it all the way out.

Webs of cum stretch between her and the toy before breaking. She mewls, and he gets to see her pretty pink hole, exposed to the air. It clenches repeatedly, as if it missed the feeling of being full. Her cum from previous orgasms ooze out of her like thick, milky syrup.

“I’ma fill up this pussy soon,” he swears to himself.

Ony brings the messy dildo to his face, examining it in all its closeness. It’s sticky with her cream. He almost wants to taste it. To taste her.

“The second time I ever seen you was at the gym.”

She tries to work through the fog of her own brain to comprehend his words.

“That pretty, fat ass looked real good in those shorts. So did that pussy.”

He plunges his fingers into her, moving so quick that she splashes back against him. She’s a mess, crying out.

“She speaking to me, huh?”

Throwing her head back, she moans out. He hums, pulling his hand out. Far too easily, he sticks his gooey fingers in his mouth, sucking off her cream.

And—fuck—she tastes amazing.

“Turn ‘round for me.”

“Wait—w-what do I call you?”

“Ony.” He licks at his bottom lip.

With no other words, he flips her over on her stomach. A heavy hand lands on her left ass cheek, making the fat shake like jello.

She hisses, back arching as she pushes her ass up higher into the air.

“Yeah, keep that ass up f’me.”

He reaches out, gripping a cheek tight. He spreads it. His thumb inches towards her puckered hole, spreading her release around it.

“You gon’ lemme fuck you here?” He hums.

The thought of stretching her ass out makes his dick jump in his pants. He’s gonna have to come out of those soon.

Y/N moans into the messy sheets, gripping at them.

“Ever been fucked there?”

Her voice is muffled.

“Say that again?”

She twists her head to the side. “Y-yes.”

“Oh, so you a lil’ freak then?” His thumb pressed into her harder, yet it doesn’t break past. “I knew that, though,” he says to himself, still toying with her butt.

“Please...”

“Please, what?”

“Please, Ony. Fuck me.”

He throws his head back in laughter. “In ya butt?”

Her shoulders hunch in embarrassment. Y/N rests her head on folded arms and looks back at him through wet lashes.

A pout on her lips, she barely nods. And he can’t help but to coo at her. But, he gives a firm head shake. “Nah. I won’t stick my dick there.”

Her face falls.

“But, we could use this fun lil’ toy you bought.”

Her eyes widen and her arch slackens. “Wait, wait—I-I don’t know if it’ll fit.”

“If this won’t fit, I definitely won’t.” Picking up the dildo, he smacks the thick, silicon tip against her anus. “Wouldn’t hurt to try though, right?”

“Ony—“

“You’on trust me, mama?”

She stares at him, sucking on her bottom lip. After a minute of thinking, she nods.

“Good girl.”

She whimpers as cold lube drips onto her crack, although he’s sure she doesn’t even need it with how much she’d cum. Still, doesn’t hurt to be safe.

He spreads it with his thumb, applying just enough pressure to tease the entrance of a finger. And then his thumb pops in, pulling a low whine out of her.

“You ever used ya fingers here before?”

She buries her head into the sheets, moaning into them.

Ony takes his time, pushing and pulling his thumb at a slow pace. “Words, mama.”

“Yes.”

He never switches up the pace on her, trying to get her comfortable. But, she can’t help that greed burning in the pit of her tummy. She wants to feed it.

“More…”

“Ouu, you dirty.” He smacks the creamy dildo against a cheek.

A breathless giggle floats past her lips.

Rocking on her knees, she shakes her ass for him. “More, Ony.”

“How much you want?”

“Mmph—all,” she groans, eyes fluttering shut.

“You like that freaky shit?”

“Yeah,” she moans breathlessly.

It makes sense, seeing as how her body offers little resistance to him. He removes his thumb, and there she is, clenching around nothing again. He’ll fix that.

Slowly, he pushes the tip of the dildo in. And then he works it in, pushing, pulling, and even twisting the toy.

“Oh, fuck, Ony,” Y/N whines. Despite the burn of the stretch, she pushes her ass back against him.

“Yeah, fuck y’self on this dick.” With his free hand, he tugs at his sweats. “Just like that, baby.”

Clear fluid gathers at her stretched rim. As he fucks her, it drips from the toy. Her pussy weeps at the backdoor stimulation.

“So fucking dirty.” He swipes a finger through her folds as he continues to fuck her ass. He thumbs at her clit, loving the way her body twitches and shudders at all he does.

Thick globs of her honey slowly drip from her.

Finally, he pushes the dildo all the way in. Her hole clenches repeatedly, naturally working to push it out.

“Keep that shit in,” he grunts, smacking her ass.

She whimpers loudly. Her eyes can barely keep open with the constant threat of rolling back into her skull. She feels so full already. The thick toy has got her so stuffed, undoubtedly making the space between her walls tighter.

Speaking of, Ony flips Y/N on her back, ready to get in between them. Peering down at her face, she already looks fucked out of it.

“You ready to tap out?”

His thumb caresses her clit in a way that has her pulling in her bottom lip. Pushing past her arousal, Y/N sits up on her elbows to stare down at the mess he’s making with her: swirling the mess around.

“Hm?”

Her mouth falls open slowly as a glob of his spit lands right on his target.

“Uh-uh,” she exhales, shaking her head so fast it almost makes her dizzy.

“Good.”

He grips her thick thighs as he gets down on his knees. Lowering his face in between her legs, his breath tickles her. He laughs when she jumps.

Her body teems with excitement as it trembles under him.

Eye contact is strong as the soft pink of his tongue breaks past his thick lips. From her clenching hole to her thumping pearl, he runs it straight through her puffy, glistening folds.

Her legs twitch against his hands, but he keeps them in place.

A faint cry falls from her lips, so soft he doesn’t even hear it. With every lick and suckle, she grows wetter. He laps at her honeypot, the bottom half of his face getting shinier with every passing second.

The twisted sheets between her fingers aren’t enough. One hand releases the cloth, brain muddying so much that she no longer fears touching him with her hands.

An acrylic-laid fingers falls atop his waves.

At the back of her mind, she half-expected him to stop in the middle of eating—pulling away to remove her hand and tell her not to fuck up his hair. But he doesn’t.

He just keeps on eating. Eating like his life depends on it. Eating like this is his last meal on this earth.

His head twists and turns, neck craning to get the best angles so that his tongue may reach deeper—that he may taste more.

“Sh-shit … Ony,” she mewls, back arching into the air.

The tip of nose slides against her clit. She clenches repeatedly around his tongue.

“Ony, I…”

He hums into, as if to say “go on.”

Her eyes blink lazily, jaw only slackening as she reaches closer.

She tastes better than water. He can guzzle her down forever.

Only pressing his face further into her puffy pussy, every crease of her is laden with her water.

“Oh, God—Ony!”

Against his desires, he pulls away, replacing his face with his hands. He parts her lips with one hand, the other passing back and forth over her clit.

“C’mon, Y/N,” he drawls, hand moving faster than his voice.

“Mmh … auuh—“

Her splishing turns to a gush, his fingers beating against the stream.

She hisses, throwing her head back against the mattress.

“Give it to me,” he goads, dragging a hand down her thigh to smack her.

Still holding her open, he leans back in to drink from her, eyes squeezed shut as he indulges far too much.

He doesn’t stop until he sucks her dry, cleaning her up despite her whimpers of overstimulation.

“You taste good, Ma,” he croaks, licking at his lips.

His eyes don’t leave her quivering mound. Letting his immediate thoughts take ahold of him, he spits on it, only to sup her up one more time.

He hardly realizes the faint pushing at his forehead. Getting the message, he finally lets up.

Her body is a puddle on the mattress. Her heaving chest shines with sweat.

Against his hands, her thighs tremble. Puffs of air float past her heart shaped lips.

That had to be the best head she’s ever gotten. It was almost too overwhelming. Even as she tries to calm her heart, it’s just beating too fast.

And she hasn’t even done anything but lay on her back and take it.

That’s all Ony needs of her.

Letting go of her legs, he gets back on his feet.

“Where you want it?”

She blinks hazily, her vision blurred. “H-huh?”

“Thought I was finished?”

She struggles to sit up on her elbows.

“Yeah,” he chuckles. Y/N looks down just in time for him to pull himself out of his sweats. “Nah.”

Just as his tip is freed from the waistband of his boxer, his dick bobs, almost slapping against his stomach. And speaking of his tip, it’s wide. The perfect shade of calm pink. But still wide.

He’s got a curve that she’s sure will pierce her cervix. And prominent veins that she knows she’ll feel when he’s inside. With the way it’s standing, he doesn’t need no quick two or three pumps to get ready.

“That pussy ready f’me?” he breathes, wrapping his thick fingers around his dick and lifting it.

“It’s t-too … big.” She gazes up at him, expression open and unsure.

He props himself up on me hand over her. With the other, he smacks his cock against her pudgy lips.

The sheer heaviness of him makes her jump. Her tiny gasp is adorable. Tugging at his bottom lip with teeth, Ony taps her again, reveling in the wet plop it makes.

It’s not even in her yet and that left curve is hitting her just right—her clit, that is. And he seems to share her ecstasy; He fights rolling his eyes back as he rubs his throbbing tip through her slippery labia.

Precum is smeared all over her, and it’s a sight similar to a freshly glazed chocolate donut.

Tiny twitches disrupt her body as she’s once again building back up to another orgasm. She whimpers, feeling her pussy widen as it prepares to take him in.

But he didn’t enter, only playing with her body in the cruelest way.

“Nngh … c’mon,” she quietly begs.

“Just a little bit more, baby.”

His denial has rivers gushing out onto his dick, getting him wet enough for her. Finally, he aligns himself with her and ever so slowly, does he press into her.

If this isn’t heaven on earth, he doesn’t know what the fuck it is.

A tight, wet pocket of heat swallows his tip easily. He moans pathetically, arms shaking as he tries to fight against himself to keep from busting too quick.

She’s clenching repeatedly, like she’s never had dick before. The thought has him twitch, the small movement she feels. It has her clenching down on him even harder.

A deep groan erupts from him, his head dropping into his chest as he continues to bully his way into her pussy. He slides his hips back and forth, opening her up more and more.

Gotta keep going echoes in his head, even as there’s a mere inch of him left to give.

Around his waist, her legs tremble so much she tightens them around him so that it mightn’t be so noticeable. Her body is so tightly wound, holding back.

Ony shifts on his feet, catching the small wince Y/N makes. He readies himself and pushes the last inch in, a tiny plop heard as their skin collides. He shudders at the feeling, only made better as her body tries to milk him. Flush against her, his balls are pressed into the cloud of her cream which she had pushed out.

“So fuckin’ wet, baby,” he groans.

She can feel him jumping inside of her. Her legs squeeze him tighter. It’s her first time using both holes at once, and she didn’t think she’d be feeling this full.

Clenching around both him and the toy has her fighting to keep her eyes open. And he hasn’t moved yet, but it’s like he’s in her stomach. It’s what she can only describe as a deep ache that feels wonderful. And the toy is only making her feel more sensitive.

“You ready?” Ony gruffs, fisting at the sheets to keep some sense of control.

She nods, at a loss for words. Too scared to open her mouth, because what will come out might not even be a coherent sentence or thought. Just broken babbles and sounds.

Keeping close, he hooks a hand under the crook of her right knee and slowly lifts her leg until it’s thrown over his shoulder. It brought a devilish grin to his lips, watching her face morph into one of incredulity as he makes her stretch to get a tighter hole.

The squeeze—he can’t even describe it. But he’s sure she can tell by the way his eyes roll back. Her clinching down is dangerous. He wants to tell her to stop, but he doesn’t even think he can speak.

“Fuuuck—“

He heaves his hips out of her at a dragging pace. And she makes it so hard, like her body doesn’t want to let him go. He practically fights against the suction of her.

Soft cries pour from her lips, made louder when he slides back in. He builds into a comfortable pace. Every time their hips meet, there’s a resounding wet splat is heard. So focused keeping it up, he doesn’t even see how her pelvis is bathed in the pasty gloop of her weeping pussy.

Her moans are choked up, like music to his ears as he fully sheathes himself inside of her. Deciding that he wanted to remain in her, he circles his hips, repeatedly pressing the crown of his dick into her cervix while hitting her G-spot.

“GOD—“

He doesn’t let up, continuing to mix up her pot of honey. He has to remind himself to breathe, feeling like he’s almost drowning in her.

“Ony,” she whines, over and over again, warbling in his ear. Her arms are thrown around his shoulder, nails clawing at the skin of his back.

“You like this?”

She hastily nods, too broken to speak.

“Huh?” He exhales, still working his dick into her. “You like how I’m fucking you?”

“Yes, yes!”

He gives her a few more pumps before pulling himself up to stand. Regaining his footing, Ony unhooks her leg from his shoulder to hold by her ankle.

Now that he’s not in too deep, he chances looking at the mess they’ve created. Her viscous spread to the inners of her quaking thighs and the valley between her ass.

The mess on the bed is so thick, the puddle beneath dotted with globs of white that crest the bottom of her cheeks. Webbings of tacky release attach them, too heavy to keep up in gravity. And speaking of, his balls drip with thick blobs of cum.

Pleading whines knock him from his trance, pushing him to continue. Turning his head, he presses a wet smooch to the inside of her calve.

“Look so fucking sexy.” Another kiss just an inch higher. “Split open on my dick like this.” He pecks her ankle. “Pussy weeping for me.”

Bringing her foot closer to his face, he presses his lips to her clean foot sole. Her acrylic-laden toes curl as he begins to move again. Her croons are drowned out by the piercing spurts they make as he plunges into her.

His thick tongue slips past his lips, curling around her big toe before he sucks on it. Y/N does nothing but whine, a hand pressing to his lower abdomen as he fucks her good. Her brain is a puddle as he sucks on her toes.

As his tongue laves her two middle toes, one hand holding up her leg, he uses the other to press against her lower stomach. A ragged cry rips from her as her body further tenses.

“Yeaah,” he drags out once his mouth is off of her. “You feel me there?”

She responds, but he can’t even tell what she’s saying. It’s all just nonsense blubbering.

“Feel me fucking you this deep?” He doesn’t let up. In fact, he’s fucking harder. “All in your stomach, baby…”

Her eyes are glazed over, barely open as she just takes it.

Ony didn’t think she would get any wetter than this. But as he pushes in her, rivulets of sap splash back against his pelvis. It’s a warm, heavy ache that only feels better with the pressure from all ends. And a bit of the ache is relieved every time her body releases a warm flow of slop from between her legs.

Her body bounces, breasts rolling with every movement. She’s fucking gushing like a spout he can’t seem to shut off. Not that he wants to. In fact, he doesn’t think he ever wants to pull out. With all this wetness, he can’t even tell if he came yet. But if he did, he knows that once isn’t enough to satiate him.

“Should bust in here.” He presses down harder on her stomach. She sobs, brokenly. “Fill you with my seed … fill that pussy up with me—“

His hips stutter, pace faltering.

“Fuck—Im’a mark you. Make s-sure … no other nigga … scumming in this—a-awe shit!”

His dick jumps as spurts of coming empty out of him, balls tightening as he feeds her pussy every ounce of cum he has. And she’s eating up, swallowing it all around him.

He stays in for a minute, her body just continuing to milk him for all he’s worth until he’s empty.

“Shit, you feel so good, baby,” he groans.

When he finally pulls out, his release is too much for her to contain. Immediately, it chases after him, seeping out in thick dribbles. He pushes her legs back to get the best view.

And as he watches, she reaches a hand down to stick her fingers in all of it. Pulling them away to have him see the sticky strings of their cum mixed together. She slaps at her messy cunt before dipping lower to scoop up his falling cum, only to make a feeble effort to push it back inside.

“Fucking nasty,” he laughs, and when he looks up to see her face, she’s got a dazed smile on her lips.

But in all honesty, watching her play in their messy has him bricked up again, which she instantly catches. Before he can say anything, she pushes herself onto her stomach and lifts her ass into the air.

“One more,” she says softly, peering back at him over her shoulder.

It’s a debauched sight. The toy is still pushed in deep, and she’s dripping onto the bed. Gingerly, she reaches a hand down between her legs, cupping her sensitive mound before lifting her fingers back to messily toy with her clit.

“C’mon, Ony,” she whines, rocking her ass back and forth.

Even as she begs, she doesn’t wait for him, still rubbing as herself for one more release. Her eyes fall closes, ass cheeks and legs twitching as she builds up to another orgasm.

Her eyes open for a sliver of a second, just enough for him to see them roll back. Her mouth drops open, the ghost of a wail leaving through it.

There’s nothing.

And then…

A harsh shiver wracks throughout her body, announcing the violent spray of squirt that further soaks the mattress, fuck the sheets at this point.

“Oh God … oh God,” she groans, body almost convulsing as she beats against her clit, dragging it out. “Onyyy,” she cries.

Her pussy clenches repeatedly, almost begging for something to fill it, even as it pushes out an orgasm for the umpteenth time tonight. So, he gives her what she wants.

DIck in hand, he holds onto her ass and guides himself back into her. With no patience this time around, he drops his dick into her with so much ease it slides in.

And as he bottoms out, her pussy makes a loud, wet fart. The sound is punctured with a heavy moan by her. He pulls out and pushes back in. The sound repeats, much wetter this time. And he does it again, hearing the squishing of her pussy alongside the wet suction.

The sound goads him to push in and pull out, repeatedly. Loud splats accompany the bouncing of her ass against his pelvis. The ripples of her fat are hypnotic, and he’s getting lost in it. Reaching out, he grasps her throat, squeezing just enough that she’s clutching onto his arm. His dick throbs as she clenches around him.

“Got me cumming back to back in this pussy—“

Leaning over her, leg propped up on the bed frame, he fucks into her deeper. The arch in her back is so deep as his dick pierces her stomach. The hand at her hip leaves its spot to lay a heavy smack on her ass.

“Sh-shit!”

“You love that shit,” he grits in her ears. That hand travels to the toy buried deep in her. He applies pressure to the base, and she wails. “Love being fucked … in both holes, huh?”

Wet tears streak her puffy cheeks. The head-tie that once sat neatly atop her hair has been slipped. The top of leave-out peaking out at him.

“Gonna fill you up again—“

“Please!”

He doesn’t try to last as long this time, emptying his second or third load deep in her. He can’t even tell the number at this point.

“Fuck, I’m in this pussy,” he babbles, eyes squeezed shut. “Gonna give you my kids,” his breath shudders.

Her pussy makes a sound akin to bubble-popping, squishing, as he forces his hips deeper. Bubbles of cum froth at the base of where they meet. The sensation, the vision—it all prolongs his orgasm.

As she feels his thick ropes of cum shoot off inside of her, it brings on her final release of the night. They both moan far too loud, bodies sagging into each other as exhaustion overtakes them.

“Damn,” he sighs, breathless laughter following.

A low whine is her only response, too fucked out to even think of one good enough.

Tiredly, he reaches down to gently pull the dildo out. It’s drenched in a clear fluid. He throws it down on the bed, not too concerned with cleaning at the moment. Her hole winks, stretched out from the toy.

“Can’t let you go after this,” he mumbles into the crook of her neck. “Never.”

Her only response is pushing her ass back against him.

“No other nigga gon’ fuck you like this. You hear?”

She groans out what is her best interpretation of a “yes.”

And that’s all he needs.

This is the last part of this miniseries! Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed, lmk your thoughts

#aot onyankopon #onyankopon x black y/n #onyankopon x reader #onyankopon smut #onyankapon #aot #attack on titan #aot x reader #aot smut #fanfic #fanfiction

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yurmomsawh0r · 9 months

Text

𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 - 𝐄. 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑

.*•.*• 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 - 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐱- 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 ��𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐨.

𝐃𝐫𝐮𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐫! 𝐄𝐫𝐞𝐧, 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐄𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐄𝐫𝐞𝐧, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐒𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐦. 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲 (𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝), 𝐔𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝

.*•.*• 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐥!😭

“Are you all dressed and ready my love?” You called out to your two year old daughter as you grabbed all your things. “Yes mama! I ready.” She giggled as she slipped into her crocs but with each shoe on the wrong foot.

You smiled at her goofiness and bent down to help her with her shoes. “You put them on the wrong feet baby, but I’ll help you.” You smiled up at her. Obsessed with her cute little face. She was the perfect mixture of you and Eren. Her greens eyes resembling his all the way.

You were running late, but it was your fault. You had forgotten to pack her bag last night, resulting in you running around the house trying to get everything together.

Grabbing her hand, you raced out the house but not before locking it behind you.

“I can’t wait to see Vivi today! She said we would make cookies the last time!” Aaliyha spouted happily in her car seat. Making you smile at her. You were happy with how comfortable your daughter was with your friend Felicity. Luckily enough she also had a daughter that was a year older than yours. Her name was Vivica but Aaliyha called her Vivi. “Can you try to save mommy some cookies baby?”

“Otay mama.”

After you dropped her off you raced down to your job. It was a new club that had just opened up about a year ago and it was already pretty popular. 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐬 was the name and you worked their as a bartender/server, but recently you’ve been thinking about switching to an aerialist dancer since they a little made more money.

Keeping up with your bills was starting to get a little hard, especially since your daughter was getting older and her expenses were getting more costly by the year.

I wish Eren was here to help me. I probably wouldn’t have to work so hard. Shit, I probably wouldn’t have to do anything if he was here.

But that was just something you’d have to deal with. After all Eren had no idea he even had a daughter to begin with.

Two years ago, when you had found out you were pregnant, you decided to make the biggest decision in your life. Taking a few stacks of his cash you knew he had hidden and disappeared.

Of course you didn’t want to hurt him, but Eren was starting to change into someone you couldn’t recognize and bringing a baby in the mix of who he was becoming scared you.

You see, Eren used to be a sweet boy. Although he was the plug for weed he always had his head on right. That was until he started to deal with heavier drugs. He slowly started to become colder, more detached and distant. . .

I knew he had gone two far when he started to come home late at night when he thought you would be sleeping. Blood being splattered all over him.

Although Eren always kept you away from the dangerous lifestyle he was getting into, you saw what it was turning him into and it was becoming to much for you.

It scared you.

So you left, and haven’t looked back for two whole years.

You did miss him though. He was the best boyfriend you’ve ever had. He was always one to spoil you and tell you how beautiful you are. Always catering to your needs. Listening to your opinions and ambitions.

You loved the way he made you feel. So safe and secure.

You missed being in his arms. The way he kissed your neck on all your sweet spots.

The way his fingers scissored your pussy, leaving you drippin’ wet. You missed the way his dick bruised your walls and rubbed your insides with all his curved 8 inch glory.

No matter how many guys you had fucked after you left him, none of them could get you off like Eren did.

Yes you missed him.

Even now. You could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter by the moment. Your body burning up just from the memories.

“Hey boo, you good?” Jordan, your coworker asked you. Snapping you out of your lustful thoughts.

“Yea girl I’m fine.” You tried to reassure her, but she wasn’t fooled. “You sure? You seem like you got a fever,” she placed a hand on your forehead. “And you feel hot.”

You smacked your lips, and brushed her hand off. “J come on, let’s get this money bitch.”

“Mm, let me guess you was thinking about yo ex again.” Jordan teased you. Placing a hand on her hip as she eyed you. You couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“Yea I was thinking’ bout that nigga.” You couldn’t help from telling the truth. For some reason the past couple of months he’s been on your mind far more often than not.

Putting your small waistline apron on, you got to work.

Eren couldn’t believe his eyes. He sat frozen with his hand tightly gripping his glass filled with whisky. He tried to keep his composure as best as he could as to not alert his newest business partner. Eren could feel his heart beating faster and faster in his chest.

He just couldn’t believe it. There you were just across the floor, serving customers. His customers. Who would have thought that after two years, fate would lead you back to him.

“Eren?” Jean called out to him. He glanced in his direction. Jeans eyes subtly moving from the client back to him.

“𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲. 𝐖𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.” Eren told the two men in grey suits. Soon, Eren would have his own casino on a remote island. There he would host a black market auction that sold only the rarest of treasures.

The two men in grey suits stood up and offered their hands to shake.

Once Eren saw they were out of the club, his attention immediately went back to where you stood. You looked different, but he knew it was you. He’d never mistake that pretty face for someone else’s.

Your hair was no longer the long length it had been. It was not cut short and styled in finger waves. Your face sported two new nose piercings along with a few new tattoos from what he could see.

He also noticed that you were no longer the skinny bodied female he knew two years ago. Your breast had gotten heavier. No longer the small B cups. Even your hips had spread. The way your mini skirt clung to you let him see just how big your ass had gotten.

Finally - he thought. I’ve fucking found you.

That night, Eren had followed you home. You didn’t live that far from the club and that gave him the satisfaction of knowing just how close you were.

The next day, he had a close friend of his bring up a file on you. To say he was shocked to find out that you had a child was an understatement. He was furious.

It was like he was staring right into he own eyes. She looked just like a mixture of the both of you. Already, Eren could tell that she was his.

He couldn’t help but be upset with you. First you leave unannounced and then you have his daughter and didn’t think to tell him anything. He would have taken care of you guys. He would have given you both the world.

So why. Why did you do it? Why did you leave him?

All these questions that would soon be answered when he had you back. And this time he didn’t plan on letting you go.

You had just dropped Aaliyha off at day care for a few hours so that you could get some time to yourself today.

It had been a pretty busy week for you and you needed a small break to recuperate and gather your thoughts. Maybe even do a little self care.

You decide you deserved a nice looong hot steamy shower. So you made your way upstairs and stripped out of your leggings and sports bra. Turning the water to hot, and letting it warm up, you went and grabbed your speaker.

Cleo Sol played in the background as you stepped into your shower, washing all your worries away. The hot water loosening all the stiffness in your back.

30 minutes had passed and you finally decided to wash your body. Grabbing your pomegranate scented soap, you scrubbed the dirt and grime from off of you.

You stepped out of the shower and wrapped your fluffy towel around yourself and wiped your feet of any extra water feeling ten times better than you did before. After doing your face routine, you applied pomegranate scented lotion to your body before leaving your bathroom.

You weren’t really paying attention as you made your way to your dresser. Dropping the towel without a care in the world.

“𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐚, 𝐈’𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐈’𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧.”

You halted in your spot. That voice. It couldn’t be. . .

A gasp escaped you as you glanced over your shoulder.

Erens’ piercing green eyes stared right at you. They were menacing. He sat on your bed shirtless, pants unbuttoned with a blunt in his hand already sparked.

“𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭? 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐦𝐞? 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.“ He said as he took a hit. You gulped.

You didn’t really know what to say or how to react. Apart of you were happy that he was here. You missed him, but . . . The other part of you was scared. How had he even found you. How had he even got into your apartment!?

Quickly, you fumbled to pick up your towel and wrap it around yourself once you realized you were completely naked in front of him.

This only made him laugh. A smirk playing on his face. This snapped you back into reality. If it was one thing, you hated being laughed at.

“The fuck is so funny Yeager!?” You raised your voice at him. Your face filled with an attitude he missed. Just seeing it made his dick jump.

“𝐎𝐡 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥.” He said as he put the blunt out on your pink comforter before standing. It was like he had grown taller. His body was more muscular than it was the last time you seen him. His hair was tied back in a low bun. Something you always thought was sexy on him.

His knuckles sported new tattoos and even a few lingered on his body as well. He pretty much looked the same but something definitely changed about him.

It was like he was a whole different person, and this person is someone you wouldn’t want to cross.

He took a step towards you. “𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐩 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈’𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧. 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈’𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬.“

“𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬.“ He spoke lowly as he took a few more steps.

“𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲, 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐧𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.“ As he said this, you couldn’t help but feel heartbroken for him.

You knew he was angry, you knew he had every right to be, and you were sorry, but you couldn’t fix the past. You weren’t sure that even if you could, you would want too.

You had to remember, you thought you were doing what was best for her. You stared at Eren from underneath your lashes. A pout sitting in your face as he towered over you.

“𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲, 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫.“

Now this made tears well up and fall from you. “I-I’m s-sorry. I d-d, I-I wasn’t trying t-to-“

He only shushed you. Tilting your tear stricken face upward towards him. “𝐖𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐚. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮.” Not a second later, he pressed his lip’s against yours with a sizzling need. He gripped the towel you were holding onto, yanking it away from your body.

The sudden change in your body temperature caused you to flinch at how cold it was suddenly. “Mm!” You cried out when he gripped your short tuffs of hair, pulling your head back so he could stick his tongue deeper down your throat.

His hands wandered down and gripped your ass in his large hands. Another thing you missed about him. “𝐈 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐚.“ Eren spoke in between kissing you. He lifted you into his arms and walked you both to your bed, you sucking on his tongue, devouring his mouth with your own.

It had been so long since you’ve felt like this and you were to far gone to have any rational thoughts to stop. He laid you down on the bed before lifting up just to cup your breast.

“𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡.“ He gripped your nipples, twisting slightly, making your body arch up. “𝐃𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐬?“ You nodded, but squealed when he flicked your nipple.

“𝐔𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲.“

“Yes Eren, I missed you.” You couldn’t help but whine. This made him grin. His finger rubbing slow circles around your clit.

“Oh yesss!”

“𝐇𝐦𝐩𝐡, 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲. 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞..” He spoke — slipping two fingers inside you, making a ‘come here’ motion.

Your legs opened wider for him. Your body writhing in pleasure as he took you to a place you haven’t been in a long time.

“Oh fuck! Pleeaassee keep doing that!”

Eren continued his assault on you. Kissing his way down your body until his mouth hovered over your pussy.

“𝐈 𝐛𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐡𝐮𝐡 𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐚?“

“Yes daddy! Please, I missed this.” Your body was shaking as the orgasm pulsed through you. Erens fingers were now coated in your wet creamy cum.

Erens lips latched on to your clit suckling just the way you liked. Your moans grew louder and louder as he did. His tongue lapping up your juices, making the most embarrassing wet noises ever, but you didn’t care.

All you cared about was how good this man was making you feel.

“Uh, boss? Do you want us to clear everything out, or take only the important stuff?” A big hulking figure asked from the door way causing you to scream.

Eren lifted his head from between your legs slowly. He looked behind him with a menacing look that made the big guy take a step back.

“Sorry boss, I’ll uh- figure it out.” He said before tuning and leaving, only for two more guys to come in and start grabbing things from out of your closet. They paid you both no mind. Just simply grabbing what needed to be grabbed and walking out without a glance your way.

“EREN WHAT THE FUCK!” You yelled. You weren’t so comfortable with men coming in and out of your room while you were naked and being eatin’ out. Eren ignored you though, and lowered his head in between your thighs, licking away like a starved animal.

You tried to hold in your moans as best as you could but another orgasm ripped from you.

“𝐒𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲.“ He taunted.

Once he removed himself from your thighs, he took his own pants off with his boxers following. His cock stood at attention. Dripping pre-nut and sporting thick veins. He was ready for you.

You couldn’t help close your legs slightly. It had been a while since you had sex, and you knew this was going to be a little uncomfortable. I doubt Eren was not going to take it easy on you.

“𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞 𝐲/𝐧, 𝐧𝐨𝐰.”

And you did. Slowly but surely you did. “𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭.“ He gripped the back of your knees. Grinding his dick against you a couple of times before he pushed himself inside.

Your hands flew to his abdomen trying to slow down his intrusion but it did little to stop him. He was now fully seethed inside of you. The feeling of being full was so foreign to you but it felt so good.

It felt good to be filled by him again.

“𝐍𝐨𝐰, 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧. 𝐃𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐞?“

He thrusted into you at a fast pace. You gripped his arms tightly as he assaulted your womb. His ball clapped against your ass in a steady repetitive motion that only added to your lust filled heat.

“𝐇𝐮𝐡 𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐚?! 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮?“ He asked you again. This time going faster. “Ah! Yess, yess daddy! I m-mmissed youuuu!”

Your third - or fourth orgasm tore through your body once again. Your slick making it easier for him to go deeper.

“Yesss ‘REN! Just like that daddy!” You could feel him brush against your cervix with every thrust. He groans getting mixed in with our own.

You could tell he was close to nutting. His once hard thrust becoming sloppy but still working your pussy.

“𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭.“ Eren grunted, his nut filling you up with one last thrust. The both of you panting and out of breath.

When he slid from the warmth of your walls, he quickly threw your towel back over you and slipped back into his boxers and jeans, lighting the same blunt he had put out earlier. His men still walking in and out of the room with your things as if nothing ever happened.

“𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈’𝐦 𝐧𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮.”

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

#aot x black reader #eren yeager #eren jeager x reader #eren jeager smut #black coded reader #smut #attack on titan #eren x reader #eren smut #toxic relationship #anime smut #mature themes #aot x you #aot x y/n #aot fanfiction #fandom #fanfic

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littlerequiem · 1 month

Text

— a lesson in dancing ˚⁎⁺ levi ackerman x gn!reader

Levi doesn't think you should be with an old man like him. You show him otherwise. Or: in a post-war life, Levi learns to dance again.

content — Post-war, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Some internalized ableism from Levi but Reader helps him get through it, Reader is younger than Levi, Slow dancing, Basically a whole lot of comforting Levi in this one (wc: 2.3k). For reference - I headcanon that Levi uses a wheelchair most of the time, but that at home, he'll opt for a cane.

Crossposted on AO3.

“You should find someone younger to be with.”

At first, you aren’t sure if you heard Levi correctly. It’s still early; the sunrise barely reaches the town's tiled roofs. Sparrows nibble around you, scavenging for breakfast. Everything is at a complete standstill.

Then you glance up from this morning’s newspaper. Levi is staring at the youth gathered around the city square.

“What did you say?” you ask.

Levi’s attention settles onto you, a half-lidded stare that’s no less charged than in his prime as the Captain.

“You’re still young," he mutters. "You’re still whole."

Well, if he didn't have your attention before, he certainly has it now.

You place your reading onto the café table, right next to the cup of coffee the waiter just brought. Your fingers linger on the edges of the newspaper, bending the corners with your thumb.

“Levi, I don’t want to be with someone else," you say, slow like you were carefully weighing each syllable with care. "I want to be with you.”

"You say that, but I can’t give you that.”

You frown, following his changing line of sight, back to the youth. In the distance, couples dance, following music coming from an accordion. They step and twirl, a resounding cheer (“ha!”) echoing with every count of twelve.

It brings you straight back to Paradis, to life within the Walls, to evenings spent in dingy taverns. Hange and Miche used to love dancing; they loved to drag you along. You wonder if Levi is thinking about those nights too.

"Are you talking about us dancing?”

The knot in Levi's throat bobs. He swallows it down with an almost bitter expression. “That, and more. Just look at me.”

“I’m looking, Levi.”

If only he knew—you’ve been looking all along.

All these years of fighting side by side, of fighting against titans and humans, of trying to bring peace to the world.

Just to arrive at a time and place where you could look at him.

And the sight grounds you.

Levi's eyes—one milky white and shuttered, the other a deep gray that reminds you of muted skies. His hair, silky black, embellished from the passage of time with strands of silver (like starlight, you think). A pearl-colored scar that twists below his lash line, running across the left side of his face, currently glowing from the dewy morning sun.

Everything about Levi has always been beautiful.

Despite that, you watch Levi retreats in his shell. His expression hardens and his knuckles tighten. It's the same old reaction you've grown accustomed to seeing. Levi did it Then, in Paradis, and he's doing it Now, in this new life.

But you? You rip through it, cut the distance apart. The feet of your chair rattles against the cobblestone of the street as you draw near. By the time you're settled at his side, you’re close enough to count the freckles splattered on the tip of nose.

“Levi, listen to me. You’re enough just the way you are. We can go through life as we please. Isn’t that enough?”

Levi remains silent, setting his posture like iron.

You tug at the hems of his shirt, twirling the fabric around your index. “Hey, c'mon now. Have I ever told you how handsome you are in the early morning?”

“Tch, don’t patronize me. You must want more than to be stuck with an old man like me.”

“What if I like my old man?”

“You should be with someone younger.“

“Who says?”

“I’m saying.”

Levi’s deadpan expression doesn’t falter under your even gaze, but his lower lip opens up slightly, as if he were trying to even out his breathing. A blue vein tenses down his neck. You have the urge to smooth it with the back of your hands.

But you focus on his words instead.

“Levi, where’s all of this coming from?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, of course, it matters. If it's making you have these thoughts, it matters.”

Levi's eyes narrow. You sigh.

“Fine, you stubborn man. You wanna know what I see?” you say under your breath.

There’s something vulnerable tied to Levi’s gaze. You hold onto it, sliding your fingers through his hair to brush care into his scalp. Your thumbs linger over the crow’s feet permeating the corner of his eyes. A constellation of wrinkles and spots dust Levi's skin, an aftermath of time and sun exposure. You run a delicate digit over all of it, ending along his scarred lash line.

Levi swallows loudly.

“When I look at you, Levi, I see the pain of someone who was asked to grow up much too fast. I see the face of a man who had to shoulder the weight of survival all by himself. I see the life of a soldier who has fought for peace so that all of them,” your head bobs in the youth’s direction, “now get to enjoy a quiet Saturday morning where they can dance without a care in the world.”

Levi glances over your shoulders, fixing a point like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

You bring your hands along the sides of his jaw, directing his attention back to you. “Levi, you’re everything I want. We fought for a decade to be here. Why can’t you recognize that?”

He attempts to shake his head. “You deserve more.”

“That's for me to decide."

"I disagree."

"You always trusted my judgment as a soldier, so please extend me that same courtesy in this life here. Trust me to know what I want.”

“S’not the same.”

“It is. I dedicated my heart to the Scouts back then, didn’t I? And now I’m dedicating it to you.”

Levi’s ears turn pink, his lips tightening into a pout that cannot be described as anything else but coy. “Tch, don't say shit like this in public.” He attempts to lean away from your touch, but you teasingly play with strands of his hair, coxing him to utter stillness.

You lift a brow.

Levi stays quiet. Your knees bump with his, and you remain close while you watch him think your words over. Somehow, though, you can tell he’s grateful to have you here with him. You’re the one still by his side after all these years of death and pain and misery.

The one who stayed.

And Levi conveys his gratitude by reaching to you at last, slow like he were afraid to be stung. He loops his fingers around your own, his thumb gliding against the pulse point on your wrist. Once he has his hold on you, he doesn't let go, slowly stroking your skin with his thumbs.

You exhale in solace.

“So, what's the verdict?" you murmur. "Should I continue praising you?”

He releases your hands. “Please don’t.”

You chuckle, moving to grab the newspaper once more. Today’s headline talks of peace negotiations, negotiations that are to be handled by Commander Armin Arlert.

“Listen, I meant what I said, Captain," you tell Levi as you smooth over the article, ready to pour your attention onto it. "Like it or not, you’re stuck with me now.”

Levi clears his throat as he takes a sip of tea. “Careful, soldier, that almost sounded like a marriage proposal.”

This time, it’s your turn to get flustered. You hide behind your wall of reading and when you peer over the newspaper, you swear there’s a ghost of a smirk tugging at Levi’s lips.

The evening is setting. Outside, waves crash against the cliffs while seagulls croak in swarms. You don’t pay attention to the noise; you’re inside the little cottage you and Levi share, too busy tweaking the machine Onkyankopon gifted you. It's a vinyl player—a machine which lets you play music records. Admittedly, you aren’t well-versed with these modern inventions, but this one you’re excited to use.

The record you’ve placed into the vinyl player comes from Onkyankopon’s home town. It promises a soothing journey filled with emotional highs—just what you need. With a grin plastered on your face, you press the play button. The tonearm hits the record and a lovely crack sounds across the living room. You lower the volume, and turn around.

“Levi, you coming?”

You hear a grunt in response, echoing across the narrow corridor of the house. “There’s no fire under my ass, is there?”

“Just a very excited me is all.”

Several moments later, Levi walks in, cane in hand. He’s fresh out of the shower. His hair is still wet, bangs clinging to the sides of his forehead, and his cheeks still have that rosy hue that comes from him washing it thoroughly. He’s wearing a freshly ironed shirt, and what Marleyans call jeans (which, incidentally, make his ass look great).

Your stomach flutters.

Levi raises a brow. “What did you want to show me?”

“Oh.” You blink, remembering your plan. “Right. Please, c'mon here.”

He does, walking towards you, something cautiously guarded on his face.

You roll your eyes and shoot him a playful smile. “It’s not a trap, I promise.” Your fingers move to the collar of his gray shirt, feeling the rough fabric of cotton between your fingertips. The color matches his gaze, it brings out the smoothness of his pale skin.

He really is pretty.

You tell him as such.

He scoffs, a lovely pink hue dusting the tips of his ears. “Don’t say shit like that.”

You shrug. “We’re not in public anymore, are we?”

“Spare me.”

“But I like to compliment you."

"That's not my problem."

"Fine, old man. Then I suppose I should show you.”

His eyes narrow, not unkindly or in an annoyed manner, but with the regard of someone who dislikes surprises, who knows you’re up to something.

You detach yourself from him for a moment, striding over to reach for the volume button and turning it up. As soon as the slow violin and piano tug through the air, you turn towards him with a grin.

“Let’s dance,” you announce.

To Levi’s credit, he doesn’t appear all that surprised by this turn of events. Well, he’s known you over a decade, so you suppose he’s learned a thing or two about you.

You take his wooden cane out of his hands, carefully placing it against the wall. For a moment, the two of you just stare at each other from across the small room, admiring one and another. Moonlight trickles into the room, gracing Levi with its touch. His gray stare is aglow, his hair like silver. Like starlight, indeed.

Taking a slow step in his direction, you slide into his arms, and he welcomes you like you were made to belong there all along. You take his invitation with a smile, offering him support for his leg while you bask in the comfort of his embrace. Levi places his left hand over your shoulder, the other finding a home along your ribs, fingers slotting along every bone. Safety. His touch sparks warmth across your body, and you bring your hands to the back of his neck, delicately smoothing his undercut.

“The music is starting,” you murmur into the shell of his ear. Tingles spread through your veins.

“Yeah, it is.”

The music isn’t anything like the one you heard on the square today. This track is slow and intimate, and so, your dancing adapts to it. At first, you take the lead, only taking occasional small steps back, hips swaying with the soft melody. Levi follow closely, so close that you listen to his heartbeat quicken beneath your touch.

Half a minute later, Levi surprises you by carefully taking one of your hands between his own, dragging his thumb over your knuckles. He guides you back into a slow spin, and you feel the air expand in your lungs as you take several steps away from him, watching your two shadows ripple over the silver spotlight. When he tugs you back and your vision spins, you think how perfectly your bodies align together.

“Levi, why are you so good at this?” you chastise playfully.

“Erwin used to make me attend these fancy balls in the Interior,” he says in your ear, the tenor of his voice rumbling against your skin. “I learned there.”

“Huh, that’s true. I remember the tuxedos you and Erwin wore now that you mention it." You chuckle. "You both looked devilishly handsome.”

“We looked like two pretentious snobs, you mean.”

"You say that, but I think Erwin took you along for a reason. We always did get the funding for every expedition.”

“Yeah.” There’s a note of fondness for Erwin and past memories, things you aren't exactly privy to, but that you're glad he gets to cherish all the same.

You come to rest a cheek close to his neck, submerging yourself with the warmth of his skin. “I guess this little dance doesn’t measure up to the lavish balls you’ve attended, right?”

His hand tightens around your own. “No, this is better.”

You smile at his words.

It isn’t until a moment later that you realize the music has stopped, that you’re both still slow dancing to silence. Outside, the sound of waves remains.

Slowly, you untangle yourself from Levi, looking at him like he were the lighthouse guiding you back to shore. Levi’s attention is already fixed on you, his face filled with quiet fondness. There's starlight in his gaze.

“You see," you say. "We can dance, you and I.”

Levi raises a hand towards you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “If we can teach your clumsy ass some rhythm, sure.”

“Hey, don’t be mean.”

Levi snorts, and before you can say anything else, he surprises you by leaning over to press a kiss over your forehead.

And under the moonlight, you watch him at peace, and all feels right.

— Masterlist / Join my taglist / Heart divider by saradika-graphics - the rest is by me.

Tag list: @l3visthighs, @bejewelledd, @nube55, @loyal2rin, @leviisgf, @thephantomtheory, @levilxvr, @halloweenmedic, @notgoodforlife, @sixpennydame, @youre-ackermine, @starrylevi

616 notes · View notes

pluvialpoet · 6 months

Text

how to disappear

Summary: a reunion ten years in the making serves as a reminder that absence doesn’t always make the heart grow fonder- especially when history has a tendency to repeat itself

Pairing: dick grayson x fem!vigilante!reader

Requested: no

Warning: nsfw!!! (18+ MDNI), porn with plot, lovers to enemies, unprotected sex, implied breeding kink, choking, angst, minor barbara gordon slander (for the plot, I swear)- do not read if you are not comfortable with the warnings listed above!!!

Word Count: 12,874

masterlist

Light reflects off the crystals that hang from the chandeliers above, and like a moth drawn to a shiny flame, you bask in the warmth of their glow. For as beautiful as the crystalline teardrops twenty-two feet overhead are, they dull in comparison to the- equal parts blinding and mesmerizing, simultaneously gorgeous, yet gaudy- diamonds that dangle from earlobes, rubies that rest against décolletages, and the pearls placed upon dainty fingers in an over the top display of money, power, and status. It’s the epitome of wealth, and though meant to allure, you find yourself disgusted by the flashy exhibitions of greed and corruption.

Every smile is artificial. Every laugh is humorless and diluted. Any feeling beyond complete and utter misery is a hoax. Yet, they play their parts. Each and every one of them continues to mingle, boast, and feign genuineness, but it’s obvious what they are, even beneath their disguises, you recognize the vultures circling the fresh carnage of the innocent- with blood on their talons and a hunger that’s never truly satiated. Do they even know what they’ve done? Do they even care? Given a chance to make amends, would any of them take it?

Revulsion counters amusement as you watch the elite interact with one another. It’s pathetic. In a room full of affluence, not a single person knows pleasure beyond material possessions, and that’s an injustice in itself. Amongst thieves, you’re the honesty that rivals them all- and that’s a scary revelation, all things considered.

Taking advantage of the large crowd, you continue to bump elbows with the rich- literally- as you weave your way through the opulent mass. A tight-lipped smile is granted when you pass an older woman, and an even wider flash of teeth catches your attention from a man around your age. Mimicking the gestures seal your fate, damning you- even if only temporarily- to this game of confusion, a game in which approval and disgust are indiscernible. Having had years to grow accustomed to the tricks of this elitist trade, it’s almost impossible to recall a simpler time. Back when you still thought there might be a modicum of authenticity behind the action, back before you were close enough to spot the invisible strings controlling the marionettes, you believed- and even hoped- that you had it all wrong. There was a time, long, long ago, when you were desperate to believe that there was still some good left in these people, but you grew out of your naivety. Now older, and wiser, you won’t make the same mistakes you once made. Under the influence of optimism, your purpose became convoluted. Not anymore.

Without anyone to dissuade you from reaching out- to challenge you from swiping a few bejeweled tennis bracelets, engagement rings, or even one or two watches and calling it a day- a thrum of urgency spreads through your fingertips. It’s an impulsive electricity you can’t deny. Besides, it’s not like social dynasties would crumble if a few diamonds went missing. If only it were that easy…

Wealth doesn’t doom these poor, unfortunate souls, but their greed- coupled with the blood on their hands- paints a distinguishable target on their backs. If you look closely, it’s impossible to miss that they’re all cut from the same cloth. A hundred different reflections of the same privileged archetype imitate the same gestures, mannerisms, and movements to a tee. An amateur would operate under the guise of distraction- causing a small scene and offering their apologies before making off with their prize- but you’re not an amateur. Not anymore. Not by a long shot.

A few women- four or five, at most- nurse flutes of bubbling booze a few feet away. The sound of their laughter is a little too joyous to be feigned and when one of them waves a manicured hand towards a waiter, signaling another round of drinks, you start to put the pieces together. Perhaps, the ladies in your sights are the most genuine in attendance- even if they’ve lost themselves to their cups. Matching their demeanor is child’s play. Once equipped with a half-empty glass from a server on their way back to the kitchens, you stumble towards the group, plastering on the same elated- intoxicated- grin, and hope that they’re inebriated enough to be welcoming towards a newcomer. Masking the bitter taste of insincerity with a sip of prosecco, a greeting rises from the mix, but it never has the chance to come to fruition because a large hand wraps around your wrist- effectively halting your heist before it even really had a chance to begin.

You should’ve known better.

As you turn to glare at the idiot who dared to put their hands on you, your breath catches.

Two birds die from the blow of one stone, and he takes advantage of your stupor- finding that you’re more pliant in your daze- leading you away from the women you intended to rob, and into the crowd. More witnesses make it less likely for you to cause a scene. At least, that’s his logic, anyway. While it’s not exactly flawed, it’s not all that accurate, either, but for old time's sake, you’ll play along. His hold on you remains firm, and he reaches for the flute in your hand with his other, placing it on a tray and discarding the prop. Your surprise begins to morph into anger- especially when he pulls you closer towards him as the orchestra starts to play a tune. Remembering the steps forced upon you as a child is muscle memory, and you glare daggers up at him- though, they don’t pierce nearly as deeply as the blue of his irises.

“Nice hair,” Dick revels in your obvious frustration of being thwarted, his lips curling into a smirk when your frown deepens, and he asks, “I thought you were blonde, last I saw you?”

“I was,” For the sake of maintaining appearances, you don a phony expression of your own and respond with as much benevolence as you can muster- even though you’re filled with animosity- as he leads you through the steps of the dance. “And you didn’t have a five o’clock shadow,” You note, allowing yourself a split second to take in everything that’s changed since the last time you saw him, before pressing your lips together tightly with a huff.

“Things change.”

As if he needed the reminder…

Chance has never meddled in your relationship. Coincidence doesn’t exist within the realm of precision both you and Dick operate from. Everything has always been on purpose, calculated and planned, never left blindly to fate or possibility- which is why this meeting isn’t an accident. As if he can feel you about to pull away, he flexes his fingers against you, tightening his grip and holding you in place. Ten years later- ten years too late- he’s found you. Not destiny, not a fluke, but with his own intention, and you wish that he would’ve just stayed away.

“What are you doing here, Dick?” As you abandon your costume, your smile falls away to reveal genuine loathing as you force the question from behind gritted teeth. Still, despite your obvious disdain, he doesn’t let you go. “Last I checked, you were in San Francisco- and more recently, Blüdhaven. You’re not supposed to be here.”

“You keeping tabs on me?” His amusement contradicts your revulsion, and a shallow breath purges the threat of an outburst. Dick has always had a way of getting under your skin, of pushing your buttons and doing everything he possibly could to make you tick, but the sudden onslaught of such juvenile taunting fills you with a fire not even he can extinguish- not anymore. Despite his charming exterior, the steady flow of his breath, and the easy grin of confidence that was once impossible not to mirror, dampness swells where your palms meet, and you feel the rough, raised reminders that he’s kept busy during your time apart- that he’s evolved into a stranger despite how familiar he still seems- and you wonder if he can feel it too, if he can tell just by touch, that you’re not the same girl he once knew.

“I keep tabs on everyone who might get in my way,” Your eyes narrow accusatorially, and the corner of his mouth twitches. “You’re not special.”

“That’s not what you said the last time we-“

“Yeah, well, the last time was when we were teenagers, and a lot has changed since then.” Any attempt to remain cordial flies out the window when he dares to mention the last time- like it hasn’t plagued you for a decade. Not even he possesses the antidote to the venom your words carry, and he winces slightly as your rebuttal shakes. He clears his throat softly, the sound filling the lull where an apology should sound, and he takes a look over your shoulder before meeting your eyes again.

“Any chance I can convince you not to go through with whatever it is you’re planning?” It brings little joy to watch his smile dissolve into something more serious. His face hardens, and you notice lines and creases that you aren’t well acquainted with- unable to distinguish battle scars from the divots of age- and you quickly shake the thought away. Instead, you stare at him blankly, not revealing an answer. Though, he takes your lack of conversation as a reply, and with a heavy sigh, he shakes his head, “Yeah, I figured.”

He dares to express melancholy. Stunned by his nerve, after everything, not even shame or regret could rattle his courage enough for him to reconsider such a crestfallen expression, and the discouraged twist of his lips and the downcast slant of his eyes are so pronounced and dramatic that you’re unable to discern whether or not this is part of a ruse, or his genuine reaction.

“Did you think that would work?” Your skepticism is muddled with ridicule, a mocking scoff filling the line meant for his counter. It’s almost laughable- the nerve he has to look dejected by your questioning. To be fair, it’s been a while since he’s danced this dance- a routine once familiar, consisting of bite and bark, push and shove, before simultaneous defeat and victory- but he’s smart enough to know that that’s not how this works. “I mean what did you think would happen, birdy? I’d take one look at you, all grown and handsome, and reconsider my plans?”

Even in heels, he’s taller than you remember. He’s always been pretty- all mesmerizing eyes, slightly crooked smile, and sunkissed skin- but not even he was immune to the awkwardness brought forth by puberty. There was a time when he thought his shoulders were too broad, his ears too big, and the angular structure of his face too sharp and strong for a boy. It didn’t look right. Features that were admirable on their own, looked out of place on his face- or so he feared. You always thought he was beautiful- especially when he didn’t know it.

Now, Boy Wonder is all grown up, exuding confidence and oozing charm. He knows he’s attractive, but he doesn’t parade his arrogance- not anymore. His early twenties were a never-ending roller coaster of trying to find himself, his purpose, and where he fit into the grand scheme of things. Conflicted by right and wrong, tempted by lust and surrender, divided by good and evil, he’s had a lot of time to awaken from the grogginess inflicted by nightmares of freedom and liberation. Still, his eyes are just as mesmerizing, his teeth are straight- but his smile is still crooked- and he’s truly grown into himself. The man before you is a boy evolved- still a bird, but with a different set of wings. Robin is an old friend, a fond recollection of a different time, and though the stranger before you mimics the familiarity you’ve longed for, he’s not Robin, anymore- he’s Nightwing.

“Look, they’re anticipating for you to strike,” His warning is low and hushed, but even in whispers you’re able to detect his plea. Call it concern, or at the very least interest in serving justice as quietly as possible, but his timbre urges you to reconsider- if not for his sake, then for the sake of those around you. He really doesn’t want to cause a scene. “Security has been tripled, and you’ve grown sloppy-“

“Did you ever consider that the trail I was leaving behind wasn’t for anyone else but the one person I wanted to find me?” There’s no affection behind the way your fingers thread through the dark tresses at the nape of his neck. Without any fondness, without passion, or care, the action is mindless, meaningless, and merely muscle memory. There’s no repressed feelings you wish to convey, no animosity you’re trying to diffuse. With no hidden agenda, the gesture serves no purpose- except to unintentionally torture you both. Old habits die hard, and something undefined urges you to reach for him. He flushes, and the sight is so droll that you can’t bring yourself to stop. His lips part once, twice, three times, trying to produce an answer, but he’s at a loss. When you cock your head to the side, he tenses. “Of course, you didn’t,” You purr, and he clears his throat softly.

Dick’s no stranger to berating. He knows what it feels like to be chastised, scolded, and reprimanded. This exchange feels similar. The only difference is that you don’t raise your voice, your eyes don’t darken and you don’t threaten him- not with words, at least. If anything, the remark feels like a gentle rebuke, but the sting left from the impact of your insult brands him with shame. You’ve always seen right through him. Easily able to discern real from fake- truth from falsity- under both his domino mask and the hardened mask of his stoic expressions, you’ve always had a knack for exposing his most vulnerable self- welcoming his flaws, humility, and weaknesses to light. Even though he’s not the same kid he was when you first crossed paths, he feels just as naive and guileless as the boy he once once.

“You and the bat were never really known for considering every angle,” Spoken so thoughtfully, he’s almost able to forgive the verbal assault. As intended, the blow lands- precise, heavy, and unforgiving in the center of his chest- and the muscles in his jaw tighten with thinly veiled frustration. It seems, that in the moment he needs his voice the most, it evades him. He swallows consonants and vowels, a jumbled mix of letters that sit heavy atop his palate, and focuses on maintaining his composure- though, his steps are a beat behind and his footing seems, suddenly, unsure. You’ve struck a nerve. Whether or not you intend to wound, the damage is already done. Picking at scabs that should’ve scarred a long time ago cause his insecurities to bleed- a punch more lethal than brute strength and weaponry combined.

Blindsided by the truth, he feels utterly defenseless.

“Can I ask you something, Dick?” Your brows barely pinch together, your voice calm and steady as something softens in your gaze. Dick should know better than to let his guard down- especially when you lean in, and your lips brush against his ear, “If you’re the hero, here to save the day, does that make me the villain?”

“No, you’re not-“

“How about this, which is the lesser of two evils- knowing that you’re protecting a corrupted establishment because it’s what you believe to be morally correct, or taking back what was wrongfully stolen and returning it to its rightful owners?” As you tilt your head to the side, he hates the way that you look up at him through your lashes. It’s not a demure move. You’re demanding an answer, and a look like that- a look meant to allure, tempt, and bait- would have a weaker man spilling his deepest darkest secrets. With a sharp inhale, he reminds himself that the tricks up your sleeve aren’t new. He knows all of the cards you’re going to play- albeit, he’s unaware of the order in which you’re going to play them- and he won’t allow history to repeat itself. Purposely, your thumb caresses the back of his hand- the touch feather-light, but far from hesitant or accidental- and his breath hitches. Dick doesn’t undermine the small, sinister smile that threatens to spread into a victorious grin when he fails to answer your question. Perhaps, he doesn’t know the answer. Or, perhaps, he’s just distracted. Either way, your voice fills the absence of his own. “We’re not on different sides of a playing field, Grayson. You and I aren’t on opposite ends of a spectrum, we’ve always been right in the middle- dancing on a thin line.”

Prompted by the soothing symphony of strings, Dick twirls you- delicately extending his arm and leading you into a spin before pulling you back in- and it’s fitting, the push and pull between you so familiar it almost feels as choreographed as the steps of the waltz you’re dancing.

History repeating itself, just one more time.

“We both know you’re not here to turn me in, because if you were going to, you would’ve done it by now.” Your arrogance causes something to snap within him. Clarity comes rushing back as he breaks free from your spell. Without meaning to, his grip on your hand tightens.

“Look, I understand why you’re doing this, but-“

“No, you don’t.” Like a switch being flipped, your façade shatters- revealing a face so unbridled with emotions that not even a mask could obscure. He’s defensive. Tired of grappling for control over the situation, he tastes power as he parts his lips with a clever retort, but you don’t allow him the space to get a word in. “Did you know that last year, the city council held a vote to refurbish a few run-down parks on the south side of Gotham with the hopes of restoring the communities destroyed by violence, or increasing the GCPD budget?” The heat behind your accusation pokes and prods at his curiosity, coloring him intrigued. Admittedly, he’s not the most up-to-date on Gotham’s politics, but something this large shouldn’t have slipped under his radar- or the watchful eyes of those who swore themselves to protect the beloved city.

It’s deeper than that, though.

Your frustrations, however warranted, seem to extend beyond such an injustice. Between the lines, amongst all the words you haven’t said, there’s a decipher hidden in every twitch, gesture, and glare. From the way your eyes narrow, to the sharp exhale and tightening grip of your fingertips. To sweaty palms and clenched teeth, all the way to flared nostrils- there’s something just beneath the surface that he can’t crack. Too much time has passed for him to unscramble tacitness when he no longer understands the codes in which you speak, and, unfortunately, he needs you to paint a clearer picture than the vague abstract before him.

“When it came down to it, do you think that the citizens of the south side had a say in the matter?” Dick’s smart. He’s not just a pretty face or a nice body- he’s actually got brains to match. You know- deep down- that sooner or later, shapeless pieces will fall into place to reveal the completed puzzle, but you need him to come to the conclusion all on his own. It would be easy to simply reveal your motive, and while a straightforward approach may have been less complicated than the mental gymnastics you’re forcing him to perform, it wouldn’t have been as impactful. Dick needs to understand, and to understand, he needs to feel- the same anger, outrage, and upset you felt. “Do you think the people on the other side of the tracks were given a chance to speak in front of the council?”

“They can’t segregate who speaks publicly-“ The gears are turning- some slower, some faster, and others completely out of control as he struggles to make sense of your elusiveness. When the current song fades out, a scattered round of applause takes its place before a new song begins. Hardly anyone else is dancing, save for a handful of couples who look just about as miserable as you and Dick- without the coordination or grace, the two of you share. It takes him too long to jump to the conclusion, and you tire of waiting for him to put the pieces together on his own. He always did work better with a helping hand- though, the quality of his work declined greatly whenever your hands were involved.

“You’re right,” Your agreement further confuses him, until an additional explanation provides the last bit of clarity he’d been seeking. “But they can change the date, time, and venue of the meeting without alerting the other parties involved, parties that spent weeks building the foundations of a strong claim, and vote on the matter without them being present- subsequently, granting them access to funnel more funds back into their pensions.”

“That’s not possible,” His argument is backed by disbelief instead of reason, denial influencing his refusal to accept such an absurdity, even in spite of proof, and every ugly, undesirable, nasty feeling you’re not supposed to have swirls together in the pit of your stomach at his incredulity.

How can he still be so blind? How, after all of the evil that he’s witnessed, how can he deny the truth in favor of possibility? He may be a man grown, but he still lives in a delusional state of boyhood- where he still clings to hope and the prospect of good intentions even when the jury has already delivered a conviction.

“Why not?” You seethe, simultaneously demanding an answer without allowing him the chance to speak. Unfortunately, whatever’s been brewing amongst your insides finally bubbles over and your own reluctance to accept an outcome where he doesn’t justify your point of view sharpens the words at the tip of your tongue until they’re as lethal as any weapon. “Because good old Commissioner Gordon wouldn’t let that happen?”

It’s resentment- the concoction without a name- but it’s also envy, pain, and perhaps a bit of fear. At the very least, it’s petty, to bring her into this and force him to pick a side, but it’s been corroding your logic- eroding a place in your chest that’s been dormant ever since he last filled it with life and meaning- and you watch his demeanor shift when his lips part to defend her. You can’t bear whatever praise he’s sure to dole out in her defense, especially when she’s just as guilty as the rest of them, as far as you’re concerned. Before he has a chance to tear you to shreds with his ire, you interrupt.

“Look, just because the commissioner has a heart, doesn’t mean that the animals working for the force do.” Without any conviction, you start to claw at the mire on either side of you, closing you in. “It’s always been bad, but it’s gotten a lot worse.” He can’t argue with that. Worse doesn’t even come close to how downright doomed Gotham is now that someone’s poisoned most of the police force. The one group of people who are supposed to remain impartial to power and abide by the laws they’re sworn to uphold, have turned their backs on the people who needed them most, and the people hurting- the ones without flashy jewels or the stomachs for caviar and champagne- don’t have anyone looking out for them.

Not the way they used to, anyway.

“You don’t get to come here and lecture me about what’s right and what’s wrong, just because she asked you to.” Bittersweet tips towards bitter and a sour taste settles in your mouth at the suggestion that she had even the slightest part to play in your reunion. “You’re a few years too late for that, birdy.” This time when the song ends, you take a step back- though, his thumb brushes against the back of your hand before you pull away, the phantom of a silent prospect lingering even when the warmth of him is gone. Once, it was what you sought. He was what you sought. Years of desolation turned your desire for that same heat- tender touches and gentle caresses against skin- into favor of bleakness. You don’t regret pulling away from him, not as much as you did back them. This time, it’s warranted- a choice you make unobstructed by what you’re feeling, now that you know the outcome of what was fated to happen between the two of you.

“I appreciate the dance,” You swallow, your throat tightening with words you won’t allow yourself to say. Instead, a retort finds you, though it feels foreign as you speak it into existence. “Maybe we’ll do it again in a couple of years,”

Without waiting for a reaction, you head off down the same way you came, and this time, without any intervention, he lets you go.

The bathroom door shuts behind you, and the sounds of lively chatter and the hum of instrumentals fade away until you’re consumed by a silence so stark that it buries you. It doesn’t feel real. The soft tapping of your heels against the glossy marble floors cuts through the nothingness- even the slightest echo in the void registering as an alarm, coaxing panic and fear from the rusted, forgotten cells you banished them to long ago- and when you finally take a look in the mirror, you don’t recognize the face that stares back at you.

Your reflection is plagued by guilt, and haunted by ghosts of the past. Well, one ghost, in particular.

Running into Dick Grayson was something you’d prepared for. Since the day you last parted, you always knew that there was a possibility your paths could, and inevitably would, cross again. It was destined to happen, and you were doomed from the start. He makes you reckless. He makes you sloppy and distracted and forgiving. He makes you weak. Back then, before everything that drove a wedge between the two of you, you had a bit of a soft spot for him. He was the only other person in the world who truly understood the life you lived because he was living a different version of the same life. Both protégés, both headstrong and zealous- attributes recognized as both strengths and faults- and both dancing a choreographed routine in the shadows cast by the bat and the cat. The two of you were fated. It was only a matter of time before you started pulling your punches, and he started letting you get away.

The chase was always the best part- second only to the capture.

Still, it’s been years since he left. You’re not the same girl he once knew, and he might as well have been a stranger. More than a decade apart will do that to two people. For everything that’s changed, one thing remains the same- the chase and the capture are unavoidable.

With a shaky exhale, your chest tightens. Resting your palms on either side of the expensive stone washbasin, you attempt to focus on regaining your composure- but another heavy intake of breath punches your lungs. You haven’t come this far just to let him swoop in and gain the upper hand. You’re done pulling your punches. Flipping the golden faucet on, you allow trickling water to interrupt the unbearable silence that surrounds you- a lull so loud it sounds like buzzing static without the interruption of something mundane. With a few more deep breaths, in and out, you begin to fumble with the clasp on your clutch, opening the small bag to retrieve a tube of lipstick. The color has started to fade from your lips, and you use the moment of stillness to touch up your makeup. If nothing else, maybe your reflection will look less distraught with a signature swipe of dark red. You long for a sense of familiarity that you can control.

Above the trickling from the luxurious spout, the door squeaks- or perhaps, it cries- as it’s pushed open, revealing a mirage basked in artificial light and a custom-tailored suit. As your fingertips graze the fixture responsible for the steady stream of distraction, a thud sounds, and seconds later, the unmistakable click of a lock latching into place seals your fate. A wave of emotion- a tsunami of feelings- brings forth a myriad of everything, all at once. Just as you suspected you always would, you’re drowning- caught in a riptide of your past and present, finally merging in a deadly current that threatens to pull you below the depths of your worst fears and direful imagination. You swallow thickly as you close your eyes. It fills your mouth with delusions of saltwater.

This isn’t supposed to happen- at least, not like this, it’s not- but the one thing you’ve been running from has finally caught back up to you. Now’s the time to set the record straight. No more ties. No more draws. Tonight, the victory is yours- regardless of his intervention. He’s taken too much from you to take this too, and you’re done letting him.

“I already told you that this is pointless,” You don’t even look at him. Refusing to give him the satisfaction of meeting his overbearing stare. A swirling sea of darkening blue attempts to sail back to shore- pleading to find refuge within familiar comforts and intimacy- but you cast your gaze back to your reflection, focusing on fixing the corners of your lipstick and leaving him afloat. “You’re not going to stop me.” The promise is backed by conviction- though, you’re not sure if you’re trying to convince him, or yourself.

The muscle in Dick’s jaw flexes as he grits his teeth- forcing ivories to clench and grind against each other, creating a perfect, white prison to cage the words he wishes to speak. Stifling his emotions is conventional. It’s a routine he’s perfected through years of reluctant practice. Though uncomfortable and daunting, the void in which he sentences all that’s repressed is secure. It’s safe- if only in the sense that it’s familiar.

You’re familiar- rather, you were once familiar- but he can’t cross a bridge that’s been burned, molten ash still ablaze amongst the rubble, and expect to be welcomed back with open arms. Not after everything that’s changed. Not after everything that’s happened.

Not after what he did.

“I need a list of names,” The determination in Dick’s voice contradicts everything he feels inside. His face hardens- a mask, a shield, protection- and he stands a little taller, fixated on resolving the one problem he could actually solve. “Names of the officers involved in whatever this is,” He clarifies with an uneasy edge to his voice- like he already knows he’s bit off more than he can chew, but he can’t stop himself from going back for seconds, thirds, and fourths.

For all that’s changed, Dick remains the same. A phantom- a spirit, a memory, a ghost- of the boy you once knew disappears just as quickly as your imagination teases familiar red, yellow, and green. He’s not the same. You know it to be true, and yet, you find yourself distracted by glimpses and figments from a different life entirely.

“Grab a pen,” A scoff, an eye roll, and the gentle shake of your head, disbelief and credence existing in tandem- contradicting each other when your eyes finally meet his. “It would be a shorter list if you started with the people who aren’t guilty of committing some type of fraudulent activity.”

You’re not a bad person. Despite varying beliefs, you’re not evil. Mayhem doesn’t bring you joy. Confrontation doesn’t get you off. There’s little pleasure to be found in being the itch that people can’t scratch. You’ve never sought out violence or peril, and you seldom plan on causing either. Just like Dick- just like Bruce- you operate under a different moral code, but a moral code, nevertheless. Even if the only thing it provides is an excuse to justify why you do what you do, you still hold yourself to a standard. Unlike the vile, chaos-thirsty cravens that would happily light the match and watch the world burn, you’re selfless- bound to your morals, if nothing else.

What you do, the sacrifices you make- everything that you’ve lost and everything you’ve fought for- is fueled by benevolence. You’re in a position to fight for those who can’t fight for themselves, to speak up for those who can’t speak for themselves. The power to defend those who have had their rights stripped from them- those who have had their power stolen by greed corruption and profit- is in your hands. You’ll be damned if you let anyone stand in your way and prevent you from doing what you know is right.

Through the reflection in the mirror, you recognize the face that stares back at you. Gone is the fear and doubt that mangled your features unrecognizable. With a heavy sigh, you unclip the earrings that dangle from your earlobes- and the buzzing sound of static fades away completely.

You know what you have to do.

The sound of your heels against the tile might as well have been deafening in contrast to the silence that follows your remark. As you cross the room, your resolve sharpens. Dick Grayson has taken so much from you, you won’t let him take this, too.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me-“ You feign saccharine, your tone phony and filled with counterfeit regret, as you reach for the locked door handle, but Dick blocks the latch, stepping in front of you before you have a chance to wrap your hand around the lever. He knows exactly what buttons to press and genuine annoyance, anger, and frustration fill the space where your poor imitation of remorse once occupied. Through gritted teeth, you command him, lowly, “Move, Dick.”

“You know I can’t do that, sweetheart,” He says it so easily, with a sorrowful sigh and undisputed repentance, that you almost buy the sincerity he’s trying to sell. Unfortunately, for him, you’re not in the market for his misery. He’s a few years too late. Dick can turn his charm up to ten thousand- he can say all the right things and plead with his perfect crystalline eyes- but you won’t risk everything you’ve fought for for a few crocodile tears. You know, now, that you’re better than that. One way or another, you’re getting out of this bathroom- and if you have to go through him to do so, then so be it.

“And you know I’m not above fighting you, right?” He’s entirely unprepared for your snark, the bite that fuels your reply nearly nipping his sense of control straight from the palm of his hand. It’s obvious that this isn’t the same game that it once was, but something much more dangerous. “The dance wasn’t enough?” With your arms across your chest, you challenge, and he hates the way you’re looking at him- like your eyes are piercing straight through him instead of actually looking at him. If you bothered to look closely enough, you’d be able to decipher all of the blatant emotions he’s never been the greatest at hiding. One look and you’d see him- and his heart beating proudly on his sleeve. It’s why you don’t spare him a glance. “You still feeling nostalgic for old times? Because this feels awfully familiar, doesn’t it?”

“What are you going to do with the money?” He asks, fighting to keep his voice stern. His poker face was never the best- or, maybe you could just read him better than most people could. Still, as he stands before you, he grapples with his devotion to whatever this competition is. This clash will never see a winner- only two losers- and he knows it. You do, too- but unlike him, you’re not willing to back down without a fight.

“Give it back to those who rightfully deserve it.” He doesn’t deserve your honesty. He has no right to the truth, but you don’t have it in you to scheme an elaborate lie. However gratifying it might’ve been to feed him false information and watch him fly in circles, you’re too exhausted for mental gymnastics. Like clockwork, you give, and he takes- his stare narrowing, almost accusatorially.

“And who are you to decide who rightfully deserves it?” There’s an edge to his question- like he can’t fathom justice without his divine intervention- and it’s grating, the way he can make you feel so small, and worthless with a single sentence. His arrogance is astounding. Who was he to seek vengeance against Slade Wilson? Who was he to target Heartless? Who was he to sentence Tony Zucco to his death- by placing him behind bars, and granting other enemies easy access to the crime lord, which ultimately led to his demise? The self-righteous guilt trip nearly gives you whiplash from how fast it makes your head spin. He’s no different than you are- no better or worse, since you operate on the same playing field. He doesn’t get to act like he is. Someone needs to knock him down a few pegs, and you’re happily up for the challenge.

“Who are you to try to stop me?”

“Someone who knows you,” He replies, instinctively. “Someone who’s a friend, not a foe.”

“Hmm,” With a bitter laugh, your stomach churns- twisting, clenching, and swirling with swells of irritation, regret, and sorrow- and although it’s a familiar discomfort, it’s been years since you’ve felt the threat of splintering cracks, chipping away at the stone-cold facade of your exterior. Come to think of it, the last time you felt this way was when Selina had told you that Dick left for San Francisco. The reminder fills you with a bitterness you’ve long tried to suppress, and as it bubbles to the surface, so do all of the repressed thoughts and emotions that’ve haunted you for years.

For a moment, you ache- chasing forgotten remembrance plagued by wistfulness. Then, you burn.

“Friends call every once in a while, and if they can’t make it to a phone, they send a postcard to let you know that they’re still alive and well.” Vexation forces your eyes to narrow, the color of your eyes morphing into something much more bleak. With a heavy exhale- filled with frustration and a semblance of humility- you remind him, “Friends don’t disappear into thin fucking air without letting you know why- especially, after those friends, were always a little more than just friends.” There’s a darkness behind your eyes that Dick’s not familiar with, and a weight settles in the hollow emptiness of his chest before sinking deeper and deeper into the pit of his stomach. His jaw clenches and he swallows thickly- the tastes of bile, rue, and shame all indiscernible from one another as he forces them back down.

He knows you’re right.

While his absence was abrupt, it had nothing to do with any ill will towards you. There was never a falling out- no crossing a line of no return or being pushed past a point that shattered a shared fantasy. Though the bullet posed no real threat of death by passing through his arm- beyond the phantom agony of lead tearing through flesh, and the hot, wet feeling of crimson pouring from the wound- a part of Dick Grayson did, in fact, die that night, at the hands of the Joker. The Clown Prince of Crime set off a domino effect when he fired at the young Boy Wonder, inevitably altering the course of his life forever. Acts of violent intent seldom harm a single soul, and as if it were fated, you became another casualty from an attack that was never meant for you.

When Bruce fired Dick, he was angry. Back then, thoughts of hanging up the cape never, ever, crossed his mind. Back then, he was content with fighting crime alongside his mentor, and never really considered what would happen next- or if there’d even be a next, or an after. He felt betrayed, abandoned, and filled with cynicism. As selfish as it was, you weren’t even really an afterthought in the downfall of his life caving in and swallowing him whole. He needed time to heal- time to rebuild- and prioritize who he was when he wasn’t hiding in the shadows left behind by a cape and cowl. Years passed, and with time to reflect, Dick’s bitter resentment morphed into a new kind of devotion to himself, and the few that started to look to him for guidance.

Before the Titans, he never really considered himself to be a leader. He spent most of his life abiding by rules and plans- roles and paths- that were set for him by another. Had he been hungry for control before, his first real taste solidified an insatiable appetite for the very thing he felt himself deprived of for too many years. Though, he’d come to learn that there was an ugly side to the power he wielded. Some days, the responsibility felt like a burden, and others, he felt like his guilt and uncertainty would swallow him whole. He bottled up all of his doubts, packed them somewhere deep inside the closed-off caverns in his heart where darker demons haunted, and forced them elsewhere- out of sight, and out of mind, but never truly gone.

It’s not fair that, somehow, you’ve come to possess the key that matches the lock on his Pandora’s box. Every emotion, every feeling, and every thought meant to be suppressed and banished to a place where they couldn’t torment or harm him, refuses to go gently when one simple, magnetic look threatens to release them from their cages of skin and bone. The most daunting realization of all, however, is that he’s the one to blame- for everything.

For all of it.

Selfishly, he’s hoped for an ember amongst the carnage he’s created. He’s held onto some convoluted idea of hope that whatever was once alight could be reignited again if he fully committed himself to an apology, but he failed to acknowledge the amount of ashes he’d have to sift through for a hint of a spark. There’s too much disappointment, too much duplicity, regret, and time passed between the two of you for things to ever revert back to even a semblance of what they once were.

He looks to you now, and he sees it- your anger is a mask for your pain. It’s so faint he almost misses it, but your lip threatens to wobble. Beyond the wrath you try to convey with the narrowed glare of your eyes, he watches as thinly veiled yearning mingles with what’s left of the color of your irises- simultaneously faint, yet prominent to the only other person who knows what it’s like to push away the person you love. What Dick and you shared wasn’t love, but it could’ve been and that’s what you’re both mourning- what could’ve been.

“You and I aren’t friends, Dick.” He hates the finality behind your conviction. It’s so cold, and void of the warmth he associated with you once upon a time. A split second threatens to expose the façade, and you blink back tears instead of allowing them to fall- swallowing emotion and banishing it elsewhere. Feelings have no place here. Instead, you grit your teeth, clenching them together so tightly that your jaw begins to ache. He watches you struggle to commit to the act- because that’s what your rage is, an outlet for your passions- and as you take a step closer toward him, his breath hitches. “Now, get out of my way,”

Toe to toe, you meet his gaze, and no matter how hard you try to fight it, despite your best efforts to disguise what you truly feel, Dick sees right through you- recognizing the parts of you that you try to mold and shape into something else. After all, he’s your greatest weakness- and you’re his. You always have been, and he always will be.

He dares to move. This close, he resists the urge to reach out for you and never let you go again, but this isn’t about him. It’s about you. Hesitantly, he raises his hand, his eyes never leaving yours as the shaky tips of his fingers graze your chin with a tenderness you’ve sought since the last time you felt it. The air is tense, passed back and forth by sharp breaths and thundering pulses- intimate with warmth and affection that mimics that of a simpler time- and when his palm rests against your cheek, cradling it with such gentle endearment in the face of betrayal, you let him. Dick’s throat bobs, and he pours everything he can’t bring himself to say into such a delicate touch. Every apology he wishes he had the courage to speak aloud, every declaration of devotion he was too afraid to voice, and every inevitable truth he attempted to ignore lingers, and you can feel it- in every shy stroke of his thumb across your cheek.

“You’re not going to distract me,” A single tear merges with the pad of his thumb- a testament to your resilience, but no match for the broken, battered, beaten bond you share with the man before you- and your certainty begins to dwindle. There’s a string that ties you to him- an invisible thread strong enough to stitch the two of you back together when you should remain apart- but you’re destined for him, the same way he’s always been destined for you.

It was foolish to believe any differently.

“I’m not trying to distract you,” Barely above a whisper, he pleads, desperate to make you understand, “I’m trying to apologize.”

He hangs his head with defeat, his shoulder slumping forward as he peers down at you. He’s never known such cruel torture. Such sick and twisted suffering is self-inflicted. The past erodes his future, but he can’t stop himself from resurrecting his demons. Foolishly, he invites them to haunt him further- and you’re no exception. His tightrope is stretched taut, and it’s a long way down. How much longer can he balance between anemoia and actuality before tipping one way or the other? It’s insanity- repeating the same act and hoping for a different outcome- but Dick can’t bring himself to accept that this time won’t be different. If nothing else, the possibility that this never-ending game could crown two winners is enough for him to play the martyr, and suffer whatever repercussions might follow after barring himself whole. What more does he have to lose, if not everything he’s already lost, again?

It would be so easy to reach past him and turn the lock in your favor, granting your escape. Hell, with the way he’s looking at you now, you know that he wouldn’t even put up a fight. He’d let you waltz right past him, slipping through his fingers for the umpteenth time because he knows that this time won’t be the last. It never is. Visions blurred by uncertainty flash before your eyes- infinite possibilities, each with consequences and punishments, rewards and sacrifices- but the unknown doesn’t elicit the same adrenaline-filled excitement that it once did. Maybe because this time, Dick isn’t fighting back. Surrendering his shield, he abandons resistance- instead, entrusting you with the vulnerability that spills from his heart, blood crimson against his fingers as he squeezes it with each thump and thud- crumbling before you, and submitting everything he has to give to you. Even if he can’t bring himself to support your cause.

You lean in closer, drawn to him- the same way you always have been, and likely, always will be- and your palm hovers over his chest. For a second, it’s unclear whether or not you’re going to reach out for him or push him away, but when your hand meets the fabric that covers hard muscle, you know you’re done for- because in the same ways he’s willing to fall before you, you’re willing to fall before him, too. Over and over again. Repeatedly and infinitely.

“Well, you have impeccable timing,” Your reproach is close enough for him to taste. It wavers against his lips and slips past his tongue, allowing him to savor parts of you he hasn’t been allowed to indulge in for so long. There’s no mistaking the invitation of your reprover, and Dick’s palm rests against your lower back, coaxing you closer towards him as his nose brushes against yours. It’s dizzying, and your arms find their way around his neck to steady yourself when he rests his forehead against yours with a soft sigh. The irony of the situation isn’t lost upon you- even when the two of you have ceded to one another, you’re still fighting to see who will give in first. As if he’s come to the realization at the same time, a large hand- rough and callused, but soft and tender in the way that it trembles against your cheek with anticipation- encourages you to tilt your head back, and you follow his lead. You hold your breath as your lips part, and Dick surges forward, slotting his mouth against yours in a kiss that’s fueled by the release of years of pent-up longing, need, and want. The gesture is foreign, yet familiar. Reminiscent of the past, yet entirely new. Everything you remember and everything you’ve ever dreamed of merge together in this moment and bring life to what had only ever been fantasy before his lips found yours once more.

It’s exhilarating.

“I missed you,” The affirmation rumbles against your skin, warm with fervor and urgency, and it’s completely unnecessary- considering that each movement acts as a balm to soothe wounds of time, fear, and doubt- but he vows with each breath, relying on words to convey what his actions can not, and vice versa. Masks are off. Shields have been abandoned. Capes remain long forgotten at the door. This is no longer about duty or morality. No, this moment is about two people seeking confirmation for what they’ve always known to be true- that a love unspoken, but never absent has always existed between them. Two people- not vigilantes or heroes- two hearts, beating to guide the other back, are bare, open, honest, and raw without the theatrics of a chase or the pretense of a game. Surrender invites you to balance on the edge of a precipice, and you’re the first to lose your footing.

Desperation is an influence, and his lapels wrinkle with the severity of your hold. Through the haze of everything unknown, he’s the only thing that’s clear, and you reach for him- blindly, but intentionally- clawing at the fabric that keeps him from you. Clashing teeth and bruising grips don’t elicit pain, not when real suffering exists in the absence of the other, and you allow him to paint you violet, blue, green, and red with desire, becoming the embodiment of his want. Your only regret is that the evidence of this divine crime will eventually fade away to nothing more than a memory- another ache that will never dull, a moment so unique that it can never be replicated. As you rejoice, you mourn.

“Sure you did.” His blazer drops to the floor as you follow your script, hardly taking a moment to realize that the page you’re reading from is blank- without word or direction- as you venture into unknown territory. Even when you don’t mean to be, you’re combative. Even when you don’t want to be, you’re still on edge. This is different. This already feels different than before, and maybe it’s because there’s a lot more at stake now that both of you have already lost one another, but for as overdue as this homecoming is, something subconsciously prolongs it further.

“No, really, I-“ He begins, ready to mold rhetoric and force it to take on a form that would allow you to see just how much you mean to him, but that would make this real, and you’re not sure if you’re ready for this to be real yet- because if this is real, if this isn’t just a cruel imitation of memory like so many variations before or a concocted fantasy so vivid you can feel yourself shaking, then that means you can lose it all, again. Just like last time. Within your grip, one minute, slipping through your fingers the next.

“Don’t.” Fear sounds different when there’s a bite to it. It could almost pass as annoyance, if you’re able to keep your voice just steady enough, and he mistakes the command for irritation, rather than the timidity it actually is. Whatever you’ve intended and he’s interpreted gets lost along the way, and he takes a hesitant step back. It’s impossible not to lunge for him as he retreats, but you remain still- your breath hitching when he holds both hands out to you, surrendering his palms while he shows he meant no harm.

“Can I…”

“You don’t have to ask,” You silence his fears quickly, closing the space between you before you even realize that you’ve taken a step. This self-sacrificial eagerness to light yourself on fire just to keep him warm has always been one of your greatest downfalls, but a most ardent gesture, and with ash on your tongue and soot in your lungs, you strike a match the minute he begins to second guess himself. “Just pretend it’s like before.” The suggestion sounds just as unsure as you are, but with a heavy breath, you encourage, “Pretend that nothing’s changed…pretend that we’re still…” You can’t even bring yourself to say it, because the kids you were back then are gone. They’re never coming back. You can’t avenge them or try to seek vengeance for what they’ve lost. It’s over for them, but this is just the start of this new beginning for the two of you. “Just for tonight.”

He moves promptly, gathering the skirts of your dress in one hand, fisting the fabric- a blue so dark he mistook it for black, or perhaps it was, until his fingertips were close enough to paint the illusion with light, making it appear different than it was- without any regard for creases or lingering proof of your affair. Support rests at your back, his chest firm and protective as you lean into the rippling muscle, and Dick continues to illuminate shadows of the past with each touch- eager to help you forget all of the agonies suffered at his hands in favor of remembering glimpses of peace. He’s ready to give you more than just a taste. Now, he wants to gorge you with the pleasure he’s reserved.

His hands shake- not with hesitancy, but anticipation, and when you catch his eye in the mirror, you shiver. You’ve never seen a blue so dark it looks black- until now. Without warning, he mouths at your neck- kissing, sucking, biting, any part of you he can get his lips on- reacquainting himself with parts of you that were once so familiar, and you allow him to explore. Blindly, you reach for one of his hands, taking it in your own, and he begins to intertwine his fingers with yours, but you gently guide his hand where you want it most- and he lets you, following your lead just as impulsively. You jolt at the first brush of his fingertips between your legs, even though you were expecting it, and he lets out a few ragged breaths against the back of your neck. It’s paradoxical, the chills that contradict the flush of your skin, but this relationship has never really made sense before. Why should that change now?

Almost as if he’s in a trance, Dick is overwhelmed by the twists and turns of the evening, but the whiplash is starting to subside in favor of something much more exhilarating. He never thought he’d have this again. He believed moments like these to be lost to time, and he wasted years grieving memories he could never replicate, only to feel the weight of your body against his once more. It’s too much. It’s not enough. It’s everything he never knew he wanted or needed until it was stolen from him, swiped right out from under his nose by his own negligence. He won’t make the same mistakes this time. No, this time, he’s going to do it right. He’s going to-

“Fuck,” When you grow tired of his stalling, you force his hand, again. This time, when your fingers meet his wrist, you press your palm on top of his- coercing him to mimic the shape- and maybe you’re the one in control, or maybe he finally rises to the occasion, but with a newfound determination, he cups your cunt- a choked sound catching in his throat when he feels how wet you are. You briefly wonder how something so vulgar can sound so pretty, but you already know the answer- it’s him. It’s always been him. Had it been anyone else, the effect would cease to exist, but it’s Dick, and that desire- that pull that you can’t ever deny- will always bind you to him.

You can’t help yourself from rutting against his palm, and he presses himself further into your back, allowing you to feel the hard outline of his cock against your ass. The hand that isn’t between your legs rests on your arm, and when he tries to hold your hand, you don’t deny him. There’s just too much fabric for you to hold in just one hand and some of it drapes over his forearm, but you manage to keep most of it from obscuring his movements. It’s a strange angle, and both of you are fumbling to make it work, but you crane your neck in search of him, and he answers your call with an eager kiss. Your tongue caresses his, savoring the feeling and committing it to memory, just in case-

He swallows your surprised gasp when he nudges your panties aside and begins to circle your clit. With just a bit of pressure, a crease forms where your eyebrows pull together, and you untangle your hand from his hold to brace yourself against the counter. It’s been a while since someone else has touched you, and it’s been even longer since the last time Dick had, but it’s so much better than evocations of pleasure. You swear figments are tangible. Spurred on by the reaction his touch has coaxed from you, he’s torn between making the moment last as long as possible or picking up the pace. He settles on the latter, considering that if this is heading the way he hopes it’s heading, he’ll have all the time in the world to make it up to you, but right now, he’s on borrowed time. You both are. With the reminder looming overhead, he adjusts his hand so that he can continue to work your clit while lining up a finger with your pussy. You’re so wet, and warm when he curls his middle finger inside, and he can’t remember why he ever left in the first place. What persuaded him away from Gotham when you were always right here? Would you have waited for him? Would you have followed him if he asked you to? He supposes none of that matters now, but he can’t help but wonder…

He adds a second finger, and even though your body gives little resistance to the intrusion, you groan at the feeling. His fingers are so long, reaching that spot inside of you that your fingers are just too short to reach, and they’re thick enough for you to feel yourself stretching around him with each thrust- not enough to cause pain, but an ache that serves as a reminder that it’s been too long since the last time you’ve had him like this. You vow not to let another ten years pass before you let him have you, again.

He continues a steady pace, curling his fingers in such a way that sweat begins to glisten across your chest, and when a third finger threatens to join his others, you wrap your hand around his wrist- abruptly halting his movements.

“N-not enough time,” He doesn’t even get the chance to ask before you supply him with an answer, but he nods in understanding once you offer an explanation. He’s already reaching for his belt, unbuckling the clasp and roughly shoving his slacks down before you have a chance to catch your breath, and you’re grateful- if the speed in which he undresses is any indication of his own eagerness- that he’s just as desperate for you, as you are for him. Taking a moment to adjust your skirts so that you don’t have to hold them, you bunch them above your hips and lean forward, resting your forearms against the counter while Dick frees himself from his boxers, and when you look back in the mirror and catch sight of his cock behind you, you can’t help but swallow thickly.

He strokes himself a few times, smearing the pre-cum beading from his slit down his shaft as he prepares to take you. This doesn’t feel like last time. As he reaches for your waist and lines himself up with your cunt, this doesn’t feel like last time at all. This is new, and different and everything he’s wanted ever since the last time he had you in his grasp. This time, he won’t let you get away. With as much self-restraint as he can manage, you feel the tip of his cock against your opening, slowly splitting you open, and your back arches. Your own strangled cry prompts a groan from him he sinks into you, inch by inch until his hips are flush against you. You’re so full that you’re not sure if it’s too much or not enough.

“I’ve got you,” Dick assures, his grip on your hip tightening when he feels you struggling to accommodate him. He tries to be a gentleman. He tries to give you a few minutes to adjust- even though he wants nothing more than to take what’s right under his nose, what’s always been his- but his restraint snaps when he feels you begin to rock back against him.

“Move,” You command, and he doesn’t have to be told twice. With your permission, he’s happy to follow orders and obliges with a sharp thrust upwards. The sound you make is a mix between a sob and a moan, and his fingers flex against your hip as he repeats the action.

“I forgot…” Through clenched teeth, he confesses, and you don’t think anything of the admission, too lost within your own feelings to attempt to decipher his. Instead, he wraps an arm around your waist, offering thick muscle to serve as a buffer between your body and the stone he has you pressed up against- relying on intimate gestures to make up for words lost in translation. Even now, when you’re not on the same page, you still know. Somehow, you know, and he does, too. Every time. Without fail. Always. Your head rolls back to meet his shoulder, and your fingertips claw at the back of his neck awkwardly, with transparent desperation to pull him closer. Within reach isn’t close enough. Near is too far. With a muted gasp, you push back to meet his next thrust, and he hisses softly before elaborating, “I’m so sorry if I made you forget.”

“Dick-“ Realization begins to splinter the mirage of bliss, and you manage to say his name with enough caution to serve as a warning. You don’t want to think about the past. Not right now. Not when you can see your future so clearly in the foggy reflection of the vanity. He wraps his hand around your neck, encouraging you to bare your throat to him and he licks at the vein that calls out to him.

“I won’t let you forget, not this time.” He vows, bucking his hips faster and faster as you whine in his hold. In some sick twisted way, he loves that he’s the only one who has this power over you- that he’s the only one who could ever elicit such a reaction- and it’s a testament to how much the two of you care for one another; the influence both of you have over one another. “This time, I want to remember.”

It’s going to be impossible not to.

“I-“ He can barely get a word out with how good you feel around him, and he takes a breath before trying again. “I know you want to pretend, but fuck…I can’t.” Dick wraps his arm around you, guiding your back to rest against his chest, and one of his large hands splays across your stomach, where he can feel himself inside of you. “I really did miss you,” Somehow he manages to find his voice. “Not just like this, either,”

“I-I missed you, too.” You don’t seem certain, not with the way you stutter, but your reply is genuine. It only appears dubious because Dick’s palm begins to press against you, and you all but choke on your confession. He can’t help himself, but neither can you.

“I’m close,” He rasps, brokenly. “Shit,” His thrusts begin to falter, and his eyes meet yours in the mirror. “Are you-“

“Yes!” You yelp when his fingers start circling your clit, and he doesn’t relent, even when he feels you start to tremble beneath him. You’re overwhelmed by him, in the best way possible, and as eager as you are to chance your release, a part of you never wants this moment to end. “Dick, please d-don’t stop,” Your muscles grow taut, and when his thrusts lose their precision, you know that he’s almost there. “Just like before,” You encourage him, clenching hard when he bites your shoulder and your orgasm washes over you. “J-just like before.”

He knows what you’re asking for. He understands what you’re practically begging for, and in a fleeting moment of clarity, he catches a glimpse of the faded scar on your arm- his only regret being the fact that an implant still stands in the way of what he truly wants with you- but the thought disappears as quickly as it materializes.

A few seconds more and he grunts against your neck, pulling your hips to meet his and spilling himself inside of you. It’s even better than you remember and your body shakes with aftershocks of pleasure. Luckily, he’s there to keep you upright. Your vision starts to blur and the only sound you’re able to make out is both of you struggling to catch your breaths. With a heavy sigh, he pulls out, and you can feel his cum start to leak from you, but you’re too disoriented to clean it up. Instead, you lean forward, relying on the countertop for support as you hang your head and try to come back to your senses.

Dick leaves a trail of soft kisses down the back of your neck and his forehead is both warm and damp when it meets your shoulder, resting comfortably against your skin while he takes a minute to catch his breath, and these sensations- these tiny little reminders that he’s here, this moment is present and real- ground you. Where your mind is a mess, reeling with indecision, emotions, and thoughts you can’t yet process, your body is at ease.

As your eyes flutter shut, greedy gulps of air fail to satisfy your lungs, and you swallow thickly, allowing pressure to build up in your chest until you simply can’t take it anymore. Darkness saturates all that you can see, and you’re caught in a void- trapped, without any light to guide you back home. The gentle caress of his touch along your arm brands you, flush enough to make you burn with reminders of this fleeting moment- when embers of devotion inevitably fade into ashes- and you stiffen in his hold, not that he’s coherent enough to notice.

He seems to be in his little world as he tucks himself back into his pants and presses another gentle kiss to your shoulder before wrapping his arms around you. Violent delights really do have violent ends and it’s not fair that you let it get this far without thinking about the consequences of your actions. None of this would’ve happened if you just let yourself love him- without fear, without judgment, without regret- and if you had just been honest with yourself all those years ago, this mess would’ve never spiraled so far out of your control.

Whatever repercussion await you, you’ll brave. Regardless of what happens next, you know that you have to tell him the truth- even if it kills you. The thought is often more daunting than the action itself, but as you turn yourself around in his arms so that you’re facing him, you’re petrified.

“I’m sorry,” The magnitude of your apology isn’t supported by the handful of letters that arrange themselves as they slip past your tongue. There has to be a better way to express your remorse, but if one exists it evades you. Over and over again, the same words come to mind and it’s not fair that you know exactly what you want to say, but you just can’t find the right words to absolve your shame. At your inability to voice your regret, frustration overwhelms you. Your lips part, ready to divulge your sins, but only a pathetic, meek sigh comes out. Why is this so difficult? You know the answer, and yet, you play the part of the fool- leaning on ignorance as a crutch for what you can’t bring yourself to brave. He deserves it, doesn’t he? The truth- not something partial, but whole. Transparency is the only piece left of a nearly complete puzzle, the only thing keeping this tragic tale of two lovers who break each other’s hearts only to stitch them back together again from reaching its inevitably doomed end. When your lip begins to tremble, Dick reaches for you, pulling you into his chest and embracing you in a hold that’s absolutely suffocating. You don’t deserve his kindness. You don’t deserve his love or affection- his tenderness or his forgiveness.

You don’t deserve him.

“Me too,” He sighs into your hair, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of your head before resting his head on top of yours. You can hear his heart- how steady it beats- and the sound rivals the racing of your own where it threatens to burst straight from your chest, and your eyes flutter shut, savoring the gentle lull of his own serenity before you poison his relief with your own disruption. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how difficult it may be, you know that you have to tell him. With a breath, you prepare for carnage.

“No, Dick, I-“

“Dick? Are you in here?” Barbara’s voice seeps through the wooden barrier that separates the two of you from the rest of the world- from reality- and as soon as she calls out to him, the illusion of tranquility is broken. Of course, it’s her. Of course, she’d be the one to interrupt you before you had the chance to speak, and of course, it would be her that drives a wedge further between the two of you with one simple revelation, “They’re getting away!”

It’s almost impossible to miss the sounds of commotion that follow her declaration. Faint screams and chaos replace the background of symphony strings and he turns to you then, a divot dividing the smooth skin of his forehead while his eyes narrow. Blue is black. Dark, and unmistakable. The muscle in his jaw looks like it’s about to burst with the severity of his clenching and his nostrils flare with a shallow exhale. It’s excruciating to watch him slip back into consciousness after being caught up in a dream, but a nightmare unfolds before you, twisting your stomach into knots so intricate they threaten to snap. You can’t breathe, and when you gather enough courage to finally take a step forward, he takes a step back. He’s never looked at you with so much hostility before, and you open your mouth to explain, to shower him with honesty and desperate pleas to make him understand that this wasn’t meant to happen like this, but no sound comes out. Not even a sigh. Not even a huff. Not even a pathetic, broken whimper. Nothing.

Unfortunately, Dick’s left to draw his own conclusions- to fill in the gaps in which your silence fails to atone for your crimes- and he paints a picture so drastically different from the truth, relying on his interpretation to establish a story so vivid he believes it to be real- even if it’s a figment of his own imagination, a product of his own devastation. Dispelled doubts come rushing back, and he allows them to influence the narrative- since you still can’t seem to find your voice- and everything left unsaid becomes louder in the silence. He mistakes your tears for guilt, instead of recognizing the regret and shame that mingle with saltwater. As gutted as he is, he looks to you for an explanation, but you can’t bring yourself to justify what you’ve done- even if it wasn’t your intention. Distracting him was part of the plan. Keeping him occupied was your mission, but confessing your true feelings and allowing yourself to fall back in love with him- not just the idea of what it would be like to love him- wasn’t part of your job description.

The second your paths crossed again, you were done for. It was never about seeking vengeance or getting even for the hurt that he caused you, because the minute that Dick waltzed back into your life, you knew you were doomed- because he makes you reckless. He makes you sloppy and distracted and forgiving. He makes you weak- and you let him. Every single time. Always and forever. Infinitely.

When he looks at you, he looks past you and towards your belongings on the counter. No. You shake your head, vehemently encouraging him to look away. If his eyes would just meet yours, if only for a second, you know you could save this. If not for the sake of putting broken pieces back together you could at least salvage fragments amongst the wreckage, but he doesn’t spare you a glance. No, no, no. His attention is solely on the expensive stone behind you, and when you reach out for him, your fingertips shaking as you grasp his bicep with all of the strength you can muster, he shakes you off of him.

Everything splinters.

When he reaches for your earring, you know that this is the end. It’s all over. A new moment will erase everything you thought you knew about pain, heartbreak, suffering, and betrayal. This moment, as it unfolds before you, will plague you until you meet your demise, because the second that he dares to bring the jewel up to his own ear, the exact moment that he hears Selina’s command through the gravely static of the earpiece you discarded earlier in the evening, you know that any hope for a future together vanishes- ripped straight from your fingers before you even had the chance to hold onto it and guard it with your life.

Even with his back towards you, you can see his face harden in the reflection of the mirror. Through the thin material of his crumbled dress shirt his shoulders tense and when he finally looks up to meet your stare through the glass, all traces of red, green, and yellow are gone. A piece of him- the piece of him that you’re most familiar with- dies, sprawled out and oozing across the marble. It’s too late to try to revive him. All that’s left in the wake of his slaughter is blue and black.

Blue and black, forevermore.

There’s nothing left for either of you here. Not anymore. Hope begins to decay, and the hollow hole in your chest that only he could ever fill begins to die from rot. Nothing will ever be the same. Not after this. Perhaps the final thought passed back and forth between a glare is the last thing you’ll ever share- beyond moments of destruction and beautiful chaos- but it’s clear to you both, that not all ghosts are meant to be resurrected.

Some ghosts should just stay ghosts.

a/n: hey, I’m raen and I’m down bad for this man lol…anyway, I’ve been working on this story for months. I literally poured bits and pieces of my soul into this (so if you wouldn’t mind interacting or providing feedback I’d be forever grateful) but I just wanted to write a tale of doomed lovers who care about each other in such a way that it leads to their downfall. I wanted this to hurt, and I hope it did- in the best way possible! I’m not above begging, so please, please, please feel free to send some feedback- as this is my first time writing for Dick and I would love to hear what people think! that being said, requests are also open! check out my request guidelines before submitting! and if you’ve made it this far, thank you so much for reading!

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