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crucifiedfaerie · 7 months

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Gibson Girl | Pt. 3 ༉₊˚✧

Kylo Ren x Fem!Reader

➴ Summary: After you reach your breaking point, Kylo does something you never expected to see from him.

➴ Part One | Part Two

➴ Word Count: 2.4k

➴ Warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, dom!kylo, slowburn, soft!kylo, we are so back!!, crylo ren, an insurmountable amount of angst (swearing, yelling, crying, kylo's internal suffering, brief mention of death but nothing happens), lots of fluff, SMUT (unprotected PiV sex, oral f!receiving, overstimulation, devoted!gentle!kylo, watch as i describe cunnilingus in excruciating detail for 5 paragraphs) typos probably

➴ Taglist: ( @enviedear @capitanostella @teapartydreams )

A/N: guys, gibson girl is officially complete. im actually so proud of how the entire fic turned out and i just wanna say thank you for the love you've given it. <3 it genuinely made me wanna keep writing and i hope you stick around for my future works, because i have so many good ideas in store. anyways, enjoy the third and final part of gibson girl. this is by far my favorite chapter of this trilogy, i was giggling, kicking my feet, and possibly crying while writing this... dare i say that this chapter is my magnum opus.

You approached his door, ears ringing from your rapid heart rate and the electric hum of the hallway lights. You wiped the sweat from your palms on your pants and let out a deep breath.

Before you could even think about knocking, the door shot open and you were forcefully pulled inside by two large, leather clad hands.

Kylo gripped your waist hard, and kicked the door shut with his boot. You yelped as he pushed you against it, hitting the back of your head on the durasteel.

He leant down, the cold metal of his mask grazed the fading bruise on your jaw, sending goosebumps crawling across your skin. "Gods, I've waited two weeks to feel you again. Im so glad to be back." Kylo purred, his modulator crackling in your ear. He reached up to begin unbuttoning your shirt. He only made it past the first button before the anger rose inside you.

You brought your hands up to his chest, pushing him off of you. "What the FUCK Kylo!" You yelled at him, feeling the tears prick your eyes. Surprisingly, he didn't stop you, taking a step away from you and tilting his head ever so slightly as if he were confused, which only made you angrier.

You were past your breaking point. "What is wrong with you?! You invite me here, whisper sweet nothings in my ear, then all of a sudden you hate fuck me and kick me out like I'm the problem?!" You sobbed and were practically screaming at him, you didn't care if he got mad, you needed to say this. "And now you invite me back acting like it never happened, wanting to- to what? Hate fuck me again?? You make NO sense, Kylo! It's like you're two different people!" You paused, breathing heavily and collecting yourself a bit before continuing. "And you wanna know the fuck of it all? You haven't even kissed me- gods!- You cant even face me. You hide behind that mask and hurt me like I'm some pet you love to hate." You spoke calmly now, the anger subsiding into a strange mix of sadness and apathy.

The apathy, however, was short lived. You had never snapped at Kylo like this before and he was the most feared man in the galaxy after all. The images of the many ways he could kill you flashed before your eyes. A lightsaber through the abdomen. Force choking the life out of you until your neck snapped. Slamming you into a wall until every bone in your body was shattered. You shut your eyes tightly and braced for impact, but it never came.

Each word you yelled at him had chipped a piece off his emotionless façade, and Kylo thought his heart might shatter along with it. The killing blow was how you stood before him terrified, shaking, waiting for him to lash out and strike you out of rage. He wasn't weak for loving you, he was weak for hurting you and he knew he couldn't do that to you anymore, not now... not ever. He felt something- someone inside of himself he hadn't felt in years, a man he thought he had killed, a man who he had almost forgotten the name of.

You only opened your eyes when you heard the click and hiss of his helmet. When he pulled it off you were met with his concerned, brown eyes. You stared at him in shock and awe, taking in every detail of him. The way his long, dark hair fell around his face, his perfect aquiline nose, the beauty marks that scattered like stars across his already beautiful face, the scar that began just above his brow, trailing down his face and disappearing below the neckline of his dark uniform.

Kylo dropped his helmet to the floor carelessly, the metallic clang loud enough for someone down the hall to hear. He pulled his gloves off quickly before throwing them to the ground and rushing over to you, taking your face into his hands and crashing his lips into yours.

His kiss was electric and full of desperation. As if he were a man lost in the deserts of Tattooine and you were Oasis East, Kylo drank you up feverishly. He was warm and tasted divine, like cinnamon and smoke.

When he pulled away, you both breathed heavily, lungs searching for air. "I don't hate you. Please don't say that." Kylo's voice broke, he was almost pleading with you, his eyes searching your face as if he were trying to get you to understand how he felt about you without him having to admit it out loud.

"Kylo... I-"

Suddenly your feet were off the floor, being carried over his shoulder to his bedroom once again, just like the first night he invited you here. Only this time you didn't feel like a bug caught in a spiders web. You felt safe. Needed.

As Kylo carried you, you kicked your shoes off carelessly, letting them fall to the floor of the hallway and you heard him breathe out a small laugh.

He sat you down on the bed and you noticed how he now handled you ever so gently, as if you were a precious, fragile thing he didn't dare risk breaking.

Kylo knelt in front of you and unbuttoned your shirt, taking extra care with each button before he slid it off of you. He gently looped his fingers into the waistband of your pants and underwear, pulling them both off in one go, leaving you completely naked.

He peppered kisses down your thigh before standing up, taking a step back to admire you, his dark eyes filled with adoration. With him being maskless, you became hyper aware of your nakedness. Your face flushed pink and you looked at the floor.

What he did next though, was something you weren't expecting. You watched in awe as Kylo kicked off his boots before shedding his cloak, his outer robes, his inner robes, his belt, then began methodically working at his shirt.

Oh my gods- why do you wear so many layers?

He shut his eyes and his mouth tightened into a thin line, as if he were stifling a laugh from hearing your thought. Kylo sighed, "Hush, its very cold on Starkiller, you know." He laughed softly as he pulled his shirt off, exposing the scars that littered his perfect frame.

He unbuttoned his trousers and pulled them off before making quick work of his underwear. There Kylo was, standing before you completely naked, looking down at you with soft eyes. Not a creature in a mask, stalking you like prey, but a man carrying nothing but adoration and desire.

He stepped forward before leaning down and kissing you again, pushing you flat onto his bed. His hands explored every inch of your body, bare skin touching yours and for the first time you felt like equals. Two living, breathing human beings who needed one another desperately.

Kylo's hands had found home tangled in your hair and the sound of him moaning into your mouth was heavenly. He pulled away, hovering above you, his hair falling around his face like a dark curtain. "Please. Please let me show you how much you mean to me, little star." He was practically begging, his eyes searching yours. This was a version of Kylo you didn't know existed. It was as if he had been completely stripped of his coldness and apathy, left only with warmth and compassion.

You nodded, and he trailed his kisses down your neck and bare chest, his soft lips grazing your nipple, causing you to let out a soft whine. He smiled and continued down your stomach and hip, to your thighs. Each kiss sent warm tingles down your spine.

Kylo lifted your legs over his shoulders and kissed down your thigh, stopping at your heat. His cool breath made you shiver. Before you could form even a single thought, his face was buried between your legs.

The way he lapped you up like spring water and how his tongue grazed over your clit made you crumble into a whining mess. Your fingers weaved through his dark locks and you pulled instinctually, causing him to moan against your cunt.

He was knelt before you like a sinner at the altar, worshipping his god and silently begging for forgiveness through your pleasure.

"Mhm Fuck- Kylo I- Stop you're gonna make m-me cum." You whined. He knew you couldn't hold on for much longer, and he didn't care, your sweet moans only inspired him to go faster. He hummed something unintelligible, a wordless approval for you to let go.

Your thighs trembled around his face as your body unraveled on his mouth. The pleasure he gave you was divine, euphoric, and your vision clouded as he rode you through your high.

He pulled away from you panting, his mouth and nose damp from your juices. You felt the bed dip as he situated himself above you, his hips between your legs. He kissed you deeply and you could taste yourself on his tongue, tangy and sweet like summer fruit.

He pulled away "Gods- I've waited what feels like forever to do that." He whispered.

You held his face in your hands and kissed him again. "Please Kylo I need you." You wrapped your legs around his waist.

He lined himself up with your entrance and pushed in slowly as he held you. He paused when he bottomed out, allowing you a moment to adjust to the size of his cock. You moaned loudly, still sensitive from the wonders he performed on you with his mouth.

Kylo began to move, slowly increasing the pace of his thrusts but still taking extra care not to be too rough. He looked down at you, his pupils blown with lust and love. He studied your face and how your eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. Kylo wanted to savor every detail of this moment, no dark visors obscuring his vision of you.

"I wish you could see how beautiful you look right now my star." He purred as he hit that sensitive spot deep inside you.

You moaned at the overstimulation. Kylo tilted his head down to kiss at your neck and your brain felt like static as you struggled to find words. "I- I was gonna say- hmm fuck- say the s-same about y-y..." You trailed off, lost in the pleasure.

Kylo chuckled against your neck, amused at your futile attempt to articulate a coherent sentence. "You're getting close again, sweet thing, I can feel it. S-so am I." He moaned, faltering at the end of his sentence.

You could only give a small hum and nod of agreement, words were too much for you, the contents of your mind had been completely emptied and replaced with thoughts of only him. Your desperate whines rang through his bedroom.

"Hm, fuck- cum with me. Cum with me my little star. Shit!" He was desperate now too, his thrusts sloppy as he held you in his arms.

You both reached your climaxes at the same time. Your visions clouded with white-hot stars, as if fireworks were going off in your brains. Kylo desperately muttered a long string of profanities as he came inside of you. He collapsed on top of you, panting heavily before rolling over so you were laid out on top of him.

You felt his cum leak out of you and onto his thigh as you rested your head on his bare chest. He reached for a random article of clothing that had been discarded on the bed and used it to clean you up before throwing it to the floor. He didn't care what it was, he would deal with it in the morning.

He sat up slowly, pulling you both back towards the pillows, and situating you so he could hold you and look you in the eyes.

He noticed you shiver and pulled the duvet over the both of you before speaking. "I'm sorry I made you feel like you didn't mean anything to me- for hurting you. I did it out of not wanting to seem weak, and yet I did the weakest possible thing I could have ever done." His eyes were filled with remorse and concern, his voice laced with shame. "The truth is I do care about you. The day I realized it was the day I hurt you and sent you away... and if could go back and change how I treated you I would." His voice broke.

"Kylo-" You began to speak but he quickly cut you off.

"If you hate me, please don't tell me." He begged. "I understand why you would, but I don't think I could bear hearing you say it out loud." He now spoke in a low whisper, as if he were terrified of his own vulnerability.

"Kylo I dont hate you, I promise. I just didn't understand you, but now I do and I lo-" You cut yourself off this time, thinking maybe you shouldn't say that to him. You couldn't handle rejection from him for a second time.

"I love you."

You heard his voice say it plain as day, you know he said it. You couldn't have imagined it. You didn't see his lips move, yet Kylo's voice rang loud and clear through your head. Your eyes darted to his and you saw him scanning your face nervously for a reaction.

Your eyes widened. "I love you too."

Is that what my thoughts sound like to him?

Kylo smirked, attempting to hide the large grin threatening to creep across his face. "Yes, I told you they're loud."

You laugh, causing him to laugh with you.

It was such a tender moment. Two human souls laughing together under the warmth of the covers, intertwined with each other, and floating in the vast, inky expanse of the galaxy.

#kylo ren #ben solo #star wars #kylo ren x reader #ben solo x reader #starwars x reader #kylo ren fanfic #ben solo fanfic #starwars fanfic #the force awakens #the last jedi #the rise of skywalker #crucifiedfaerie #saint writes - !#gibson girl #fanfic

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hopeswriting · 3 months

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[Gifs description copied from alt-text: Slowed down gifs from the TV show Vincenzo, showing Jang Han-Seok throwing a metallic object at Jang Han-Seo.

He throws it at him, hitting his forehead, opening it in a small cut and making it bleed. Han-Seo lowers his arm down, turning to face Han-Seok again, wincing and blinking as he takes the pain in. He keeps blinking multiple times, including once asymmetrically, raising one eyebrow, adjusting to the pain. He then raises his head to look at Han-Seok.

The camera does a side close-up, panning down his face starting from his wound, showing him close his mouth and setting his jaw. It then cuts to his hands, which he clenches into tightening fists.

The camera goes back to a wider shot, showing him visibly sigh, his shoulders slumping. He looks unfazed but weary as he still looks at Han-Seok.

He blinks twice again before saying, "I'm sorry, Hyungnim," while slightly bowing his head. As he speaks, the beginning of a smile pulls at his lips while some life and lightheartedness come back to his face. /End GD]

Don't dodge this. (in bold) I won't.

(i first wanted to put this in the tags but the post doesn't show up in the tags when i do 😭)

#i first saw this scene in fanvids and it looked like a heavy dramatic one in them #it's not really in the show; it's more of a relatively low stakes scene #but the way kwak dong yeon acts it still makes my heart clench so hard #i can't look at that gif where he blinks unevenly without my heart going out to him #it's the overall nonplus-ness of his reaction #the resignation to the pain and the familiarity of it #the surprise that it hurts still anyway and the somewhat daze that it still hurts even when he saw it coming and braced himself for it

#it's the anger that slips through despite how he's used to it because how is it fair that he's used to it? how is it right? #it's the way anger turns to visible bones-deep weariness because this is just the same shit but another day #and it's how in the end he puts on the mask of the king of fools again anyway because he knows how this goes all too well #'don't dodge this; i won't' and then he really doesn't and it's tragic

#god. kwak dong yeon you'll always be famous for this alone to me <3 #anyway this is my favorite bit of acting in the show so i just had to gif it

#vincenzo #vincenzoedit #jang han seo #kdrama #kdramaedit #blood #gif described #hopeedit #mine

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ivanzplaid · 2 years

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Hiii I have a request and I’m sorry if I sent it in before and forgot I have a bad memory. Can I have head cannons for The Grabber, Rz or Og Michael Myers, Otis Driftwood and Vincent Sinclair with an s/o who covers their mouth when they laugh or smile because they’re insecure about how their smile looks? Kinda specific I know but I just wanted to request it. Thank you

-📼

you didn't so dont sweat it, and i love this!! i had braces when i was younger & getting retainers affected my smile sm, was very conscious about what i looked like, so this is def comforting to write smh

requests r open, masterlist is up!

Slasher x ( Self Conscious ) Gn Reader Hcs!!

Warnings: Language, Comforting ( ish ) Slasher Bfs

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The Grabber

he took you, he wants all of what you have to offer

he believes he has the right to see every part of you, the more about you he learns, the more he falls for you

it takes him a few days to notice, you could be spending time w him in the basement & let out a laugh, and when he goes to see your gorgeous smile he notices you instinctively went to cover it

confused, but maybe it was a reflex?

he wants to see you when he makes you happy, he loves the validation, so he picks up the next few times your smile is blocked

eventually he figures it out, and of course is very confrontational

"Why do you hide your little smile around me?"

he will sit down in front of you and hold your shoulder, doing his best to be comforting

of course it may come off intimidating with the masks but he does his best for you

if you choose to open up about it, he shakes his head and cups your jaw, whispering to you everything he loves about you and how youre nothing short of glorious to him

his compliments and praises may be odd, he is a very peculiar man so expect some abnormal yet concerned words of affirmation

he will do his best to say how he loves what you look like after youve told him, he wants to see what youve got to offer

overall 9/10, he loves you in his own way, definitely odd but thats fine because he means every word

"It's not perfect, I don't want you to think any less of me."

"But I think it's perfect, and that's the only thing that matters."

Og Michael Myers

unlike the grabber, it may take a bit longer than a few days to notice when you aren't showing your smile or laugh

he is constantly on the move, so when he slows down to spend time with you, youll most likely be talking or watching a movie together, getting in the quality time

whenever a funny scene comes up he can hear your laughter, but when he looks to your direction he doesnt see the normal look, he sees your hand covering your mouth

the first time he doesnt think too much about it, you dont question him when he does his stuff, why bother you and your stuff

however, he starts to pick up on it more after noticing it once, even if he doesnt show it he likes your presence, he wants to see your range of feelings because it makes him content

after a while, he becomes his version of concerned, lingering around you longer, staring at you, he knows somethings off

eventually the next time you go to cover your mouth, he firmly ( but safely ) grasps your hand, preventing you from hiding your laughter or smile

he doesnt need a reason that you hide it, but if youd like to tell him you can

hes firm in the sense that he wants to see you when you two are together

isnt very physically affectionate initiating wise, but this is one of the few things that if your insecure about, will let you know he does not care

he couldnt care less about what you look like, he still cares for you the same

overall 7/10, a but strange in the ways he cares but still efficient

Otis Driftwood

lord he picks up on it right away

"What the fuck 'er ya doing? Let me see those pearly whites."

he loves to hear you laugh and your smile makes him slyly grin, so hes snarky when you hide it

he doesnt understand why youd want to hide something be sees as perfect

will swat your hand away to see you

if you choose to tell him why youre hiding it, he will say that 'thats bullshit' and how you dont need to worry around him or the family

if a victim says anything about it for any reason, whether you knew it or not, he would make the remaining life they have torture

if his family ever did say anything, he would yell or curse them out, scolding them if they didnt know

the family loves you a lot so i wouldn't worry abt it

otis himself praises you from time to time, reminding you of how good you look, and you will start receiving comments on your smile

overall 8/10, his comments will definitely be a mix of sexual & non sexual but he loves you at the end of the day, and your smile still warms his heart

"Sexy, do me a favor and move your fuckin' hand so I can see that gorgeous smile of yours!"

Vincent Sinclair

a man of few words has a great sense of observation

he loves to have you around while he works, so there may be an old radio around, or a book youre reading ( to yourself or to him, he enjoys your company )

you mightve found yourself admiring his art, or just him in general, seeing him attentive to you even as hes got work

he glances over to you to see why youve stopped reading, and he sees your hand over your fave as you just adore him, and the first time he thinks its just more comfortable that way, he feels loved that youre content with just being in silence

but whenever you two are out ( occasionally ) or sharing moments, he sees you shield your mouth a lot, and he tries to put two and two together

he may be nervous that something is seriously wrong, or that hes done something, but after discussing it with his brothers, he starts to suspect something else

he loves to look at you, he considers you art by how extravagant you are

the next time you go to hide your laughter, he gives you a concerned look & asks in asl if youre alright

you may be reluctant to tell him at first, but he is the most comforting & patient man youll ever meet

he nods and listens excellently as you work through it

he knows how to comfort you well, if youre alright with it and youve been together a while, he will hold you and let you confine in him

he knows solace well, and if its his s/o whose distressed, he will put aside work just to comfort you

knows what it feels like to be conscious about your face / self, he listens to what you may need

overall 10/10, excellent excellent experience and you two grow closer after it, amazing boyfriend fr

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i love writing hcs sm, and i love a refreshing variety of slashers to cleanse myself, theyre all so good :)

requests r open, masterlist is up!

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hoe-doroki · 3 years

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steel and lace

minors do not interact

warnings: 18+, anal play, sex toys, voyeuristic fantasy, scratching, creampie

pairing: bakugou x fem!reader

wc: 3.8k

summary: The only one who manages to get Bakugou’s birthday right is you.

a/n: This is my addition to the Bakugou Birthday Bash collab (masterlist). Many thanks to @lady-bakuhoe for helping me flesh out the ideas with this story!! You were integral to this idea, love! And additional thanks to @whats-her-quirk and @therealvalkyrie for beta reading <333

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

Bakugou never took work off on his birthday.

Never. Why would he? Villains didn’t give a shit that this was the day the old hag had unceremoniously had him evacuated into a hospital room however many years ago. They didn’t give a shit that his friends—who were also heroes who should be fucking working, by the way—wanna come over to his house and surprise him. As though his reconnaissance-trained ears weren’t as fucking fine tuned at hearing idiots on the other side of the door as theirs.

What villains should care about was that he was a year older, wiser, and fucking stronger, and he was going to kick all their asses. That was what he told all his idiot friends every year when they asked him if he was going to take off work.

Every year he regretted it.

The idiots he works with really must not care about hero work, because every year they want to send him out on a field post sugar crash from some store-bought cake with his name on it. Or buy him gifts that he’ll probably toss in the trash on the way home. He’s not being rude; he just doesn’t need junk that he never would have bought himself in the first place.

Everyone is always grinning at him, wishing him a happy birthday—as though he’s any goddamn happier to see their ugly mugs flapping their lips at him—and trying to start stupid-ass conversations. If he doesn’t like small talk normally, why would he want it on his birthday?

And the singing.

If people really wanted to wish him a happy birthday, they’d find a way to do it silently while doing some respectable fucking hero work. Make his day easier.

But no, none of that was what happened. So he should have just stayed home. Let the villains have a fucking field day on April 20th, and he could have his real gift killing them all tomorrow on the 21st.

But, unfortunately, he was a dumbass and had gone to work anyway, like he’d learned nothing from the last many years of antics. And the continued antics had got him a little pissy. And when he was pissed off, his heart rate increased, his breathing grew heavier, and, of course, he sweat.

Well. Guess what happened?

“Bakugou, I am currently paying to treat burns and fractures on three villains. Care to explain?”

Best Jeanist was sitting in his office chair, blinding sunlight streaming in behind him. Late afternoon sun—darker in color but way more resentful towards human eyes, apparently. It was reflecting off of all of the neighboring glass corporate buildings, making Bakugou squint behind his mask.

Bakugou shrugged, petulant as he stood behind his chair instead of sitting in it. “Overkill.”

Best Jeanist nodded. “Did you…lose control?”

“Tch,” Bakugou scoffed. As if he ever lost control. “Villains were weaker than I thought.”

Bakugou felt the stare of that one fucking eye and stood firm. He knew he was looking at a suspension, hopefully just for a day or two. It wasn’t like he’d done anything terrible. Villains got hurt sometimes, just like pros did, and they got their care and then they got their justice. It’s not like Bakugou was violent on purpose. Anymore. And Jeanist sure as hell knew that, so it wouldn’t take Bakugou off the field for more than a slap on the wrist. He probably wouldn’t even be technically suspended. Just chained by the fucking dick to his desk with some paperwork.

“Just…” Bakugou braced for it, narrowing his eyes but keeping his snarl to a minimum. “Just be more careful next time. Shower and go home—see you tomorrow.”

Bakugou’s jaw dropped. He closed it quickly, trying not to look like Dunce Face in front of his boss, but in all that was real and true what? He was just about to say something—he didn’t know what, probably something insubordinate—when Best Jeanist took out his own paperwork and waved him away.

“Happy birthday, Bakugou.”

Oh. So that was it.

Bakugou grit his teeth. Happy fucking birthday indeed.

It was nothing. His brain told him over and over again that it was fucking nothing. He hadn’t been punished, he hadn’t even really done anything wrong; he just hadn’t been squeaky clean up to fucking code. He could still show up for work tomorrow, business as usual. He should be tickled fucking pink.

But he wasn’t. Special treatment for being the birthday boy? What was he? Five years old and given a pass after stealing the chicken nuggets off Deku’s plate? Jesus Christ.

And if he was honest, he was mostly pissed at himself. Sure, he could blame how the weather always seemed to sprint from spring to summer around his birthday every year, strengthening his quirk. He could blame the villains for being weak enough that they had no business even stepping foot in his neighborhood. But losing control of his quirk even a little—and it had been a little—was fucking amateur and he’d have to pencil in some extra time at the gym. Maybe snatch Shitty Hair for some sparring, and, unfortunately, probably nab an extra therapy session and talk about this anger thing again.

At least walking instead of sitting on that stifling, crowded train car was doing him some good. Let him cool off a bit before he got home and you saw that something was wrong. He was nearly entirely relaxed by the time he got to his building’s lobby, even having the grace to nod at the concierge—who didn’t know it was his birthday, thank God—before heading up the elevator.

When he got off on his floor, it suddenly occurred to him that you might have done something truly repulsive, like inviting his friends over. He could imagine Shitty Hair’s shitty fucking hair sticking up from behind your sofa as he tried to hide before leaping up and yelling surprise.

Well, if that was the case, then the surprise was going to be him kicking all his dumb friends out of the apartment with one foot. Ain’t no way he was going to host a party on his birthday.

It turned out his worry was for nothing, though, because when he turned the knob—fully braced to punch out some teeth with his other hand—he was greeted with a totally bare apartment.

Like barren.

For starters, it was perfectly clean. Bakugou kept a tidy house normally, but this was certainly cleaner than he’d left it this morning. But more than that, there was nothing extra lying around. No stupid friends. No presents. No cake or even the smell of one. It was almost disconcerting.

No, it was a relief. A relief because he didn’t want any of that stuff. He’d had the slice of cake at work—and was slightly hangry now to show for it—and wasn’t interested in having another. And even though you’d choose better gifts than the extras at work would, it was nothing he couldn’t buy himself. So no, this was perfect. He was absolutely not disappointed. Maybe a bit confused. But not disappointed.

He took his shoes off and set his things on the small table by the door. Then he wandered into the kitchen, downed some water, and thought about what he might make for dinner. He might have expected that you and he would make dinner together or maybe even that you would have surprised him with something, but he didn’t mind doing it alone. It wasn’t like he’d learned to cook just to find a housewife someday to con into doing it all for him.

He decided to go to the bedroom first to plug in his phone. He was just sliding it out of his pocket when he opened the door, saw you, and stopped short.

You were on the bed—not in bed, but on it—wearing a black zip up with his signature orange x over the chest. You were on your knees with your legs spread wide, looking him dead in the eye with a deadly smirk on your face, painted in bright lipstick.

“New prototype. You like?”

The two of you had met when you were scouted from his parents’ business to design the clothing for his first merchandise line. He’d sworn off dating you from the beginning, because the last thing he wanted was to give the old hag anything to say about, firstly, her being at all responsible for finding him a girlfriend or secondly, the fact that dating a fashion designer would mean he was dating his parents. He’d said fuck that to anyone who would listen.

But you’d gotten his brain from the beginning. Your designs were all sick from the sketch to mock up to the prototypes you always wore for him. Maybe he was a simple man for falling for a girl dressed in his colors, aiming to please him, but fuck it. You were talented, too smart for your own good, and pretty as hell.

So what? Now he had a dream girlfriend and one more reason to fight with his mom. Net positive for sure.

Still, that jacket wasn’t a prototype. That was from his first official line, no doubt, and he’d seen you wear it hundreds of times. He knew from here how much it would smell like detergent and how much like you.

You caught his eyes, raised your brows once, and then pulled the zip on the sweatshirt.

Underneath was nothing but lace and ribbon, contrasting the black and orange of the sweatshirt with moss green outlining your silhouette. The moss green from his gauntlets and his belt was caged around you in the thinnest strips of fabric, scraps of floral barely covering your breasts and pussy. The lingerie was an all-in-one, with the tiny bra connected to the panties by a few ribbons crossing over your belly. Not hiding a damn thing, but showing it off for all its worth.

“Fuck,” Bakugou groaned when the sweatshirt hit the bed, your arms still in the sleeves, but the look underneath now fully revealed to him. He could feel the blood going to his dick, just seeing you on display like that getting him up to half mast in seconds.

“Not a lot of coverage on this version,” you mused, sticking your thumb under a bra strap. “Maybe an edit for the second try?”

Bakugou growled, taking a step forward, but you weren’t done just yet.

“I was also thinking maybe full panties next time,” you said, turning around, sitting on your heels. The sweatshirt hung just below your ass, framing round cheeks that were caged by thin elastic crosses, and that was it. Not so much as a triangle of fabric to speak of. “Maybe write: Property of Dynamight on them? Or is that too much text?”

That was all it took for Bakugou to pounce. One arc of his fist had his shirt thrown with a smack to the floor and then his hands were on your shoulders, spinning you face up as he pushed you flat on the bed.

“You know I don’t like unnecessary words,” he growled.

And then he was kissing you, a hand running up the falke stockings pinned on your thighs as you pulled your arms out of the sweatshirt. One leg came up automatically to wrap around his hip, and Bakugou began rutting against your center, fully hard already. On his second grinding thrust, his pants snagged on the scrap of lace you were wearing. Wetness was already glistening on his trousers and he moved his thumb down to your core, groaning at what he felt.

“Crotchless panties?” he mumbled against your mouth. “You’re making this too easy, sweetheart.”

“Shouldn’t have to work so hard on your birthday,” you mewled.

There was a rumble in Bakugou’s throat, half scoff, half chuckle. “Yeah, remind me of that next year, will you?”

You were soaked already—the swipe of his thumb told you that much. Either you’d gotten really excited when he’d texted you that he was coming home early, or you’d…gotten yourself excited at some point after. Either way, it meant that foreplay could wait for round two.

He pulled his thumb away from your core and pressed it against your lip, smudging what lipstick had survived the kisses down your chin. You were half ruined already. You stuck your tongue out and licked at essence on his thumb before sucking it into your mouth, eyes wide as you looked up at him. Fuck, he could feel himself straining against his pants, grinding circles against your half-bare cunt for a spot of relief.

After you licked him clean, he took his hand back, leaving your mouth open and wanting as he began to fuss with the front of his pants. He caught your smudged lips again, holding your jaw with one hand as he pushed his pants down with the other. He pulled his lower half away from you, kicking off the pants—hadn’t bothered with boxers for the commute home—and let them slide off the edge of the bed.

“Ready?” he asked.

Your smile was big and you bit the tip of your tongue, nodding your head twice. That was all he needed. He grabbed his cock in his fist and slid it through your wetness just once, and then he pushed himself in.

Immediately, he felt the drag of something hard and angled against your lower wall right along his cock, pressing from tip to base as he slid home inside of you.

“Woah,” he groaned. “What the fuck?”

You giggled, the action making your walls flutter against him.

“Got myself a new toy,” you said coyly, wrapping your legs around his hips. “Promise you can get yourself something pretty on my birthday too.”

Bakugou reach a hand around your thigh, feeling the elastic garter pulled taut against the stockings that were rubbing so deliciously against his back and his hips. He grabbed a handful of your ass, and the tips of his fingers felt a rounded edge of warm metal slid just between your ass cheeks.

“You fucking naughty minx.” Bakugou grinned, showing all his teeth, rearing back out of you before thrusting back in, feeling the novel pressure of the toy on the way out and back.

No wonder you had been so wet to begin with. You must have lubed yourself up before putting in that butt plug—which wasn’t small, from what he could feel of it. He could imagine you, one leg up on the sink, ass sticking out as you fingered yourself, mouth dropping open when you inserted the toy. How cold it would have been when it first touched your pert little hole and how you’d gotten it all warm for him as you waited with your little secret for him to get home.

“It’s curved to hit prostates,” you gasped as Bakugou rocked hard, steady thrusts into you. “In case you’re interested.”

The thought, much to Bakugou’s surprise, sent a thrill right through his belly down to his dick. He couldn’t help but slam rapidly into you, making your eyes roll back. Fuck, was that something he wanted? It wasn’t something he’d ever thought about, and he didn’t have the mind right now to ponder it.

“God you feel so big.”

“You feel so tight, sweetheart,” Bakugou grunted, refusing to acknowledge the fresh heat that was on his cheeks after your previous comment. “Squeezing me from all sides.”

The butt plug left it so there was barely enough room in your pussy for his cock to pump in and out. The pressure was hard on one side, making him fucking twitch every time the head of his cock caught against it, leading him to opt for long, deep thrusts in and out of you. It was so good that he didn’t even care if the only present he got for his birthday was a little hunk of stainless steel halfway up your ass. He’d gotten home five minutes ago and already he could feel his balls tightening, threatening to bust a nut.

“Just think of it, Katsuki,” you said, your voice dreamy as he fucked you raw. “All the women wearing this set, thinking of you when they show it off for their partners. All wishing that you were the one fucking them. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby? But they’ll never have anything but their husband’s sad cock that they pretend is yours.”

“Fuck,” Bakugou growled, putting a hand on the headboard and nearly splintering it in his grip. You were riling him up and it made him want to press his palm flat against the burnished oak and let off his quirk, send shards flying. His hand was already drenched with more sweat than it should have been, just like with those villains earlier. Goddamn this time of year. He couldn’t help it; his quirk begged for it. He was in dire need of release of some kind, and it wasn’t like he could cum yet. He had to know how your pussy felt when it convulsed around him, ass cheeks tensing and squeezing that toy hard against his cock until he was spurting into you.

Bakugou let off a few crackling pops from his palm, moaning as relief filled him, the tension lessened for a moment. A faint smell of wood smoke spread through the room, slightly embittered by the resin blackening around his hand. One more scorch mark on the bed frame. You groaned underneath him, taken by the sight of Bakugou’s ever-tight control slipping for you. You knew he’d fuck you through the bed until the rest of the frame gave way if he wanted. You’d both be flat on a busted mattress and he’d keep going until he felt you clench around him.

“How’s that sound, Katsu?” you continued, your voice growing higher as Bakugou took his hand off the headboard and pressed four fingers, still sweaty and heated from his quirk, against the lace covering your clit. It was soaked through. “A-Ah, you’d like the idea of a woman home alone, dressed up just for you, fucking herself on the dildo she hides in the back of your closet, screaming out your name and hoping to God that her neighbors don’t hear?”

Bakugou couldn’t do the long, slow thrusts anymore. Your legs had grown tighter around his waist, your calves soft and silken against his ass as he kept his thrusts deep. The butt plug was rubbing against the base of his cock as he pounded into you, his fingers swiping over your clit with little finesse, but speed and steady pressure making up for it.

“But no matter…” you continued, the words coming out in little huffs as you panted with your head thrown back. Bakugou couldn’t resist leaning down and licking a line up the length of your neck, biting your earlobe when he got to the top, “no dildo, no matter how expensive, no matter how long and fat, will be good enough. The whole time…they’ll know they’re missing out. Oh, fuck.”

All of a sudden, your thighs were squeezing tight against his hip bones, arms thrown over his back and finger scratching hot lines that would mark him even more as yours tomorrow. Then you were gasping, walls squeezing and Bakugou fought against your grip to pull out just enough so that the metal toy was rubbing just over the cleft of his head with every convulsion.

He didn’t stand a chance. There was hardly any warning before he was cumming into you, streaks of his seed dribbling out of you. He couldn’t even pump himself through it; you were gripping him so tightly and, more than that, he didn’t want to move. Everything was white hot, so he just waited it out, barely moving save for where his hand was still rubbing over your clit.

Eventually you stopped him, grabbing his wrist just as the grip of your cunt loosened around him. Then you brought his hand, glistening with moisture, up to your mouth, and broadly laved your tongue from the base of his fingers to the tips, looking him dead in the eye. You then brought his hand down to your neck, and allowed him to streak the combined fluids across and down your décolletage.

Fuck—there was no way he was going to work on his birthday next year. He’d let villains overtake the city first.

“They’ll know they’re missing out,” you breathed, and it took Bakugou a second to figure out that you were continuing your voyeuristic fantasy from before, playing it out to the end, “They might even think they understand. But the only one who will truly know, is me.”

You smiled, your eyes and grin both heavy, sleepy, sated.

“Got that fucking right,” Bakugou said, pulling out of you, his cum already dripping down your ass. He eyed it, only catching a glimpse of the glinting metal plug before your legs fell to the bed, spread and limp. He smacked your hip lightly with one hand. “Roll over.”

In no mood to argue, you flipped willingly, ass up, plug still hidden from view. The lingerie was damp in some spots from where your wetness had spilled from your pussy. He leaned his mouth towards one of the strips of elastic stretching against the swell of your ass and bit. You gasped, back arching, and Katsuki smirked as he pulled away.

“A fucking lingerie line?”

A chuckle escaped your throat. “It was supposed to be a joke, but now…”

Katsuki pinched the elastic with his fingers and snapped it, watching the slight jiggle of your cheeks as you jolted. “No.”

“But Katsuki,” you whined.

“Mm,” he amended, as close to ‘maybe’ as you were going to get. You both could always talk about the idea—truly ridiculous idea—later. Katsuki put a hand on one cheek under the strips of lingerie and spread it.

There was the plug, a stainless steel handle. It was thin and shaped like an oblong donut, not like one of those cheap bejeweled things. This one, even just what he could see of it, screamed quality, and, for a moment, Bakugou wondered again what it would be like to wear. If you’d gotten it in, he sure as fuck could. And he did hold a certain anatomical advantage in using it.

He put his thumb and forefinger to the phalange and gave the toy a twist, pressing it just slightly deeper into your hole. You groaned, your voice low and deep in the pillow like when he gave you a back massage. He smirked and kept at it. Seemed this was a birthday gift for him after all.

“Katsu, don’t tease,” you moaned. “Sensitive.”

Bakugou, however, had no mercy. He flipped you over again, pulling a little yelp from you, and then picked you up bridal style, carrying you off the bed.

“Where are we going?” you asked, your voice suddenly much more awake.

“Shower,” he answered simply. He squeezed the meat of your upper thigh. Not quite your ass but close enough for the point to be made. “I’m not done with my present yet.”

#bakugou smut #bakugo smut #bnha smut #mha smut #tw: voyeurism #not/sfw #bakugou birthday bash

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luckysevenwrites · 3 years

Text

Why didn’t you kiss me earlier

Y/n and Jaehyun are keeping things casual. That is what both of you have agreed on. You’re busy with your job, he’s busy being an idol. It’s better for everyone this way. But who’s to say that keeping things casual doesn’t include some kissing and maybe some other things as well...

This is part of the long term couples series.

Walking out of the hospital you stretch your arms above your head and lean to one side then the other, feeling your back crack you sigh in relief. You have just gotten off an overnight shift at the hospital and you are exhausted. You can’t wait to go home, shower, and crawl into your bed. You should have been known that things were going to be crazy last night. Things have been calm at the hospital for too long and it was only a matter of time before you got hit.

Last night was that night. Thankfully, no one had died on your watch, and you got a lot of hands-on experience in. The downside is that you are dead on your feet. Getting onto the bus you find a seat and put in your headphones. Leaning your head back you close your eyes and settle in for the almost hour bus ride that is ahead of you. You make a mental list of things that you are going to need to get done today and tomorrow and try to figure out how much sleep you can get in.

When the bus comes to your stop you pull yourself out of your seat groaning from how stiff you are, and already you change your list of things that you are going to do. First is taking a long soak in your tub and then bed. You leave your headphones in as you walk towards your apartment. As you near your building you notice a tall figure dressed in black, black baseball cap and mask in place, and a coffee carrier in hand walking towards you.

You and the black figure reach the entryway to your place at the same time. You look up at the figure and have a pair of similar eyes looking back at you. You look down at the coffee carrier and see two coffees in there along with what looks like your favorite breakfast sandwich. He reaches out with one hand gliding it up the side of your jaw, towards your ear and pulls out your earbud.

“Thought you might be hungry and would like some company,” Jaehyun tells you and you just stare up at him.

You don’t know what to say because you had texted him before you left to let him know that you were heading home but that was only because he asked, and you figured he just wanted to make sure that you got home safely. You didn’t think that it meant he was going to show up at your place with coffee and food in hand. You don’t know if him being here like this falls into the category of keeping things casual or if this act is something more. The two of you had agreed that with both of your careers that it was better to just keep things casual, simple. Just two people enjoying one another’s company and no messy feelings involved.

“It’s just coffee and us hanging out. Nothing more,” Jaehyun tells you when he realizes that you are hesitant to respond.

“Alright, come on in,” you sigh as you motion him forward and head towards the elevator. The two of you get in together and Jaehyun grabs your cup of coffee and hands it over to you.

“Thank you,” you tell him before taking a sip of the coffee. “I want to give you a heads up, I’m not going to be great company. I’m exhausted and just want to soak in my tub and go to bed. Maybe not even soak in my tub anymore. I think I just want to sleep.”

“That’s fine I just wanted to make sure that you ate something and to make sure you got home okay. Your message the night before sounded like you were stressed.”

Looking up at Jaehyun he is facing forward and doesn’t turn to look at you. You want to reach out and hug him. You want to tell him thanks for caring because it’s been a long time since someone has done something like this for you. When you had messaged him earlier it was to just vent you didn’t expect anything in return from him. The fact that he had come here and wanted to make sure you were okay made you feels things that you know you shouldn’t be feeling for someone that you are keeping things casual with.

Turning away from him you face the elevator door just as it is stopping at your floor. You step out first with Jaehyun following closely behind you. You can feel the warmth of him on your back and you close your eyes for a second and try to ignore the feelings that are creeping their way into you. Opening your eyes again you focus on unlocking your place and step inside. Jaehyun follows in closely behind you and takes off his shoes and mask. He sets the carrier and your sandwich down on your countertop and turns to face you.

He watches as you take off your scarf and jacket and you can feel his eyes taking in every move you make. You go to walk past him when Jaehyun’s hand shoots out and wraps around your wrist. You look down at his hand wrapped around your wrist then back up at him. His eyes are already locked on your face, you look into his eyes and can see that he is fighting with something, you almost ask him what’s wrong, but he starts talking before you get a chance to ask.

“Do you want me to get a bath ready for you while you eat?” He asks and you know that what he is asking isn’t what is really on his mind. Yet, you don’t question him and instead go along with where he is taking your conversation.

“No, I’ve changed my mind I just want to eat and go to sleep,” you reply, it comes out as a whisper. Jaehyun’s eyes move down to your mouth, and you want him to kiss you. Suddenly you are no longer tired, instead you are filled with the need to have this man kiss you senseless until you can’t breathe.

Waiting for Jaehyun to lean in towards you, you are filled with disappointment when he releases your wrist and takes a step back from you. He clears his throat, looking away from you and you see a slight blush on his face. It takes away some of the sting from him not kissing you but you still wish he would have leaned in and connected his lips to yours.

“Come on let’s feed you and get you into bed,” Jaehyun moves towards the counter and pulls your sandwich out of the carrier. He unwraps it and slides it over towards you. You pick it up and take a bite. It’s cold now but you don’t care. It tastes ten times better than the hospital food.

Looking over at Jaehyun you catch him once again watching you. Setting your sandwich down you lean across the counter towards him. Jaehyun backs up slightly his eyes widening in shock as you continue to make your way towards him. When he realizes that you aren’t going to stop, he smiles and stops retreating from you. The two of you are close enough that your noses are almost touching, your breaths mixing with one another.

“Why didn’t you kiss me earlier,” you look down at Jaehyun’s lips then back up to his eyes. You want to kiss him you know you shouldn’t but you want the kiss none the less.

“I thought we agreed to keep things casual after we hooked up the first time,” Jaehyun tells you and you swear that his voice has taken on a husky tone.

“What if casual includes kissing and…and other things,” You look down at his lips again and find yourself moving slightly forward. Jaehyun pulls back slightly, and you want to scream and tell him to stop moving away from you.

“Are you sure that’s what you want.” Pulling your eyes away from his lips you look back up at his eyes. He is being completely serious. He won’t do any of this unless you are sure, and it makes you want him even more.

“I’m sure now kiss me,” you firmly tell him. You want this kiss you want to keep things casual, but you also want more, more time with him, more everything with him.

Jaehyun doesn’t hesitate once you tell him to kiss you. He leans back over the counter his one hand on the counter to brace him the other finding it’s way into your hair and pulling you closer to him. When his lips connect with yours you sigh, your mouth partly opening. Jaehyun takes advantage of that and slides his tongue into your mouth. You lean more into him, enjoy the feel of Jaehyun mouth on yours. He’s a really good kisser, he kisses you like he has all the time in the world, and it makes your head spin. If you didn’t have to break away from him to breathe you wouldn’t. Sadly, you pull away from him and take in a deep breathe.

“Was that casual enough for you?” You laugh at Jaehyun’s questions, your head falling against his chest.

“Yes, that was casual enough,” you lift your head and lean in to kiss him on the side of the mouth before standing and heading down the hallway, “want to take a nap with me?”

You look back over your shoulder at Jaehyun and give him a sly smile. He stands from his chair and makes his way towards you. His arms wrap around your waist, and he pushes you forwards. His head coming down to the crock of your neck where he kisses you. Maybe you don’t want a nap you think as the two of you head to your bedroom.

#nct reactions #nct imagines #nct fanfic #nct fanfiction #nct fluff #nct drabbles #nct oneshot #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun drabbles #jaehyun oneshot #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun reaction #jaehyun x oc #jaehyun x y/n #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x you

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attackonmango · 3 years

Text

|Party of Five|Jean x Reiner x Reader x Marco x Bertholdt|Smut|

|This is a pretty long, disgusting and sexual one shot, that I wrote to The Take. It will be upward of a few thousand words, so I hope you like long, smutty chapters. Party of 5, right this way ;)|

"Go clean the showers, brat; you used them last," Levi ordered as he stopped by your room to assign your latest late-night chore. You tried your hardest not to groan out loud. It would help if you had listened to your roommate Ymir who told you to wait until morning.

"Aye, Aye, captain," you muttered, cursing him in your head as he left your shared quarters.

Heading to the supply closet, you grab two dozen handmade rags, a few buckets and a bunch of cleaning products.

The walk to the shower building wasn't far, thankfully. Though the sun has been down for a few hours, the summer air was still suffocating.

"I guess I'd rather be cleaning the showers than shovelling horse shit," you mutter as you pass by the smelly barn. You were laughing to yourself as you listen to Sasha and Connie argue, irritated due to the vile fumes that their masks couldn't protect them from.

As you make it to the showers, you hear laughter inside, and as you open the doors, it only gets louder.

You see Reiner, Jean, Bertholdt and Marco, chasing each other with towels. You watch as they pop each other with them, screaming when it came in contact with their skin.

As Jean and Bertholdt ran past you, Bertholdt popped you with a towel though he aimed for Jean. You cried out in pain, laughing due to shock. "Damn! That shit hurt." you scoffed, partially playing.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," Bertholdt apologized profusely as he squinted his eyes, scratching his neck. His face flushed red as he looked at you with embarrassment.

Nodding, you raise your hands to put space between the two of you, "Just don't hit me anymore, accidental or on purpose." you laugh, and he joins in shyly.

"I'm guessing Levi set you to clean the girl's showers?" he asked, creating small talk to avoid awkward silence. He was thankful you had forgiven him so quickly.

"Yea, I'm gonna be here for a while. Not as long as you guys tho, I hear it's pretty bad in there." you laugh to yourself. That rumour has been floating around for a while since training began.

"It is; we've been here since six” Bertholdt exasperated. You both part ways, Bertholdt back on the hunt for Jean.

For the next two hours, you wipe up the wet floors, clean off the mirrors and toilets. You moped and began to clean individual showers. You made sure to make everything pristine as white, exactly how Levi likes it. You didn't want to be back down here tomorrow.

Something tells you that the boys would though, their laughter and the sounds of them running echoed of the walls. They definitely weren’t cleaning. Sometimes you'd see Jean, looking for the rag he lost hours ago. Reiner and Bertholdt rough housing like usually and Marco trying to get everyone to remain on task.

Suddenly in ran Marco, wailing as he raced from Reiner who carried a sloshing bucket of clear water. “I’m just trying to get out of here early? Whats so wrong with that?” Along with “I’m sorry, is that what you want to hear?”

You watch as Marco rans in your direction as Reiner braced himself to throw the clean water. “Hey chill out! I just wiped the floor.” You scold in protest.

Reiner shook his head, adamant that he do what he planned. “A little bit of water never hurt no body.” After that, everything went in slow motion. Marco slipped behind Y/N as the water splashed down on her.

"Yah!" You cried out as Reiner attempted to splash Marco with an entire bucket of water, but he moved out of the way as cold water pierced your skin; the boy's eyes widened as they drifted towards you. Their laughing came to a halt as they started. "Oh shit, " Reiner and Marco exclaim as they still their feet.

Plenty of the water splashed into your mouth and nose, causing you to cough it up. Hacking in front of Marco and Reiner, as your eyes pricked with tears. “Assholes.” You muttered before groaning loudly.

Reiner and Marco swallow thickly as they notice your tears of distress. Too bad they lacked sympathy, as you looked too good for them to care.

"I told you guys to fucking cool it, now I'm wet," you scold them as the shirt clung to your skin. You ran your hands through your hair as you sighed, frustration coursing through you. If looks could kill, they’d be dead because you were pissed.

You pay no attention to Jean and Bertholdt as they walk over to the girl showers, not noticing the way their eyes bulged in their sockets.

You watched as a blush crept up Marco's cheeks as he looked the other direction, refusing to make eye contact, Jean's mouth ajar, both surprise and pure happiness etched on his features.

"Hello, excuse me?" you glared as your hands landed on your hips, as one side jutted out. You turned to glare at Reiner, who grinned, staring intensely at your chest as Bertholdt turned around to avoid your gaze altogether.

Suddenly you shivered, glancing down; you notice you had a white shirt on. A wet white shirt on. "Oh shit!" You cried out, hands flying to cover your breast that we're on full display.

You couldn’t turn away because they stood around you on all sides, and someone would get a eyeful of tits. The best you could do was hiding them behind your arms and hands.

You laughed nervously, absolutely flustered, "Advert your eyes." Your face flushed as you shifted on your feet. Your heart raised as the situation set in. Reiner had exposed you while targeting Marco in front of the 4 of them while they gaped at you. Glancing around, you couldn't help but notices the pitches in their shorts.

"They look great, " Jean chuckled, raising a brow at you. He felt no shame as he drank in your figure. Jean always thought you were sexy. The way your breast filled your shirt, he noticed the way they bounced as you ran.

Reiner visibly cringed, tossing his head back with laughter. "You sound creepy, horse face." Reiner stalked towards you, his eyes flickering from your chest to your bottom lip that you had sucked between your teeth, chewing it until it had gotten red. The look in his eyes weakening your taut knees.

"And you're not?" Jean shot back at Reiner, who ignored him.

"My apologies, Y/N, that bucket was for Marco, " Reiner muttered huskily as he hooked a finger under the hem of your shirt as water dripped down your thighs, tugging harshly. The way he towered over you had you reeling.

Marco loved how plush your thighs were; though he was a gentleman, he isn't innocent. He could see himself dying happily with his head in between them. He couldn't curb the pang of jealousy that washed over him as Reiner toyed with your shirt. You were petrified and enticed as he did so.

You have always found Reiner attractive, as well as the other boys in the room. You had watched thrm grow from boys to men over tge last few years. So his proximity and gaze caused heat to pool in your pants, as you drank in his Earthy scent. His cool breath wafted across your face and the cold water he dumped on you. It didn’t help as the other peered down at you like predator ready to jump on prey. But that’s what this was, wasnt it.

Reiner's next question caused your jaw to drop, "Would you let us take you right here?" You hadn't noticed how close the boys had gotten, Jean and Reiner more so than the others. Reiner lifted his hand to cup your face, his callous hand tracing stars on your cheek.

Your eyes widened as you stared in shock, stepping back until someone pulled you into them, "I-" a hand groping your hip stole your will to speak.

"I bet she would, " Jean purred in your ear, as he pressed himself against you from behind. His clothed length rutting against your full bottom, he massaged your hips, causing your mind to race. "Don't say you haven't thought about it, love, having your brains fucked out while we use you." Jean wasn't wrong; you constantly thought of having to be under them while they ravaged your body, using up whatever they pleased. You thought of all the possibilities of dirty things they could do to you. But you never thought you’d do anything with one of them, in front of the rest of them. And you definitely didn’t think you’d be with all of them at the same time.

You find yourself absent-mindedly backing into Jean, loving the way his length prodded your butt. His fingers dig into your waist as he sensually moved his hips. "See, she's eager." Jean chuckled darkly as he reaches to grab a full fist of hair. He anchors your head, causing you to stare up at Reiner through hooded eyes. "Tell him, slut." You couldn't fight it as you were filled with desire. Usually, that word would hurt your feelings, but given the situation and opportunity at hand, it made you want more than a bit of friction.

Reiner looked down at you, his eyes soft as he waits for your answer. "It is the least you could do," your lashes flutter as you pull away from Jean enough to slip your sodden shirt off. Catering to your nerves, you covered yourself the best you could until Jean pulled your hands away.

"Definitely," Reiner muttered as his hands wander your upper body. Dropping to his knees, he guided your exposed breast into his mouth. His tongue swirled around your sensitive nipple as he tugged, nibbling slightly. You feel him grin as your breathy moans escape you, as you shuddered under their touch. Jean's palms were kneading your ass in his hands. He smirked as you crumple in him and Reiner's grasp as he mutters what he plans on doing to you.

You don't protest as Jean pulled your pants down, lifting your legs out of them. They were quickly discarded since they were no longer needed, along with your panties. His long fingers playing at your entrance.

Your hands danced around in Reiner's hair as he suckled on your bust. As you moaned softly, you tried your hardest not to push his head, but to no avail.

"Slow down, baby, " Reiner muttered as he pulled away, spit trailing from his lips to your sensitive bud, his eyes dilated as he palmed himself through his shorts. "You'll get what you want." The authority in his voice caused your core to dampen; you rub your moist thighs together to ease your desire. You nodded at him, signaling you understand.

“Atta girl,” he muttered, his thumb brushing over your cheek, wiping away water. A pout falls upon your lips as he pulled away too fast for your liking.

"Take these off, " Reiner ordered, referring to his clothes as he pinched your erect nipples, moistening them both.

"Yessir," you exasperate, shamelessly; you rush to get his shirt off, drooling as the shower lights glistened on his toned chest. As you worked on his belt, your hands shake causing Jean to laugh, you groan in agitation as you couldn’t even open his belt.

. "Help her out, man, she's struggling." his hand worked faster as he slipped in another digit inside, curling them as he hit your g spot.

Heat fills your stomach as you sigh into Reiner's chest, he pats your head, telling you it okay. “Guess I’ll do it myself.”

You sigh as his hands slip in between you, the familiar jingle of his belt causing you to clench around Jean’s finger. You feel as his hands work on his belt as you took time to revel in pleasure. Jean moved his other hand from your hip to work your clit, using your slick as a lubricant. You sank deeper into his arms while Reiner worked his belt off along with his pants.

It fell to the ground, the metal on it clinking as it hit the floor. You grin sexily as Reiner stood in all his glory. "There. Now finish," he spoke curtly. Slipping your hand into his boxers, you pull them down. Jumping as his cock sprang out, hitting your face because you were sandwiched between the two. Reiner’s dick was long and thick, his tip swollen with anticipation and his tip pink with want. You trail your fingers down his veins that were prominent on all sides, smiling as he sighed sensually, dick throbbing in your hands. Your eyes cut to Marco, who stood watching, panting slightly as his hand with hand in his pants. Bertholdt stood watching; his breathing laboured as he watched with a red face, his dick hard as well."What about those two, " you mutter as you stare into their eyes.

"Don't worry about them, " Jean spoke harshly as he pulled his clothes off his skin. "We're busy for now."

"Look at you, so interested in someone else's needs." Reiner praised once more, peppering your lips with soft kisses. "They'll get a turn. Right now, we're playing."

Jean pulls your legs, spreading them out. His hand trailed down your back as he kissed your neck, leaving love bites when he can. Jean pressed on the small of your back, asking you to arch. He leaned you down, your face in front of Reiner’s dick, who cupped your chin again, his fingers brushing against your lip as you sat on your hands and knees.

"Say ah," as he patted your face, his voice tantalizing and husky with seduction, asking you to open your mouth, you almost instantly complying. He guided his dick to and past your lips, brushing his pre-cum on your plush, full and moistened lips. Licking them, you hum with delight. Wrapping your tongue around his tip, you pull Reiner by his thighs as close as you could without choking.

You shudder as Jean aligned himself at your entrance, his tip drawing circles on your clit as you buck your hips involuntarily. Your moaning sent vibration down Reiner's length.

You grew irritated as Jean teased your hole with the swole tip of himself, you push away from Reiner, enough so you could be. “Don’t leave me hanging, Jean.” You muttered back at the brunette who glared darkly. You shiver as sly laughter fell from his lips.

A scream shot in you as Jean plunged into, slamming into your sweet spot. You couldn’t help the way Jean pushed you into Reiner, causing you to gagged around him. Your nose scrunches up as more precum slides down your throat as he throbbed on your wet muscle.

Making quick use of your throat, Reiner hips began to rock in a slow, tight motion as he fucked your face slowly, one hand on the back of your head, knotted loosely in your hair. The other is under your armpit and wrapped around your shoulder, tugging you farther from Jean.

Warm drool pools in your mouth and down your chin. It dribbled down his waist, slicking his balls, the squelching of your throat and the feel of your tongue lapping him up as you hummed on his dick as Jean teased your womanhood drove him insane, as he pulled you you closer, watching your mouth swallow him up, again and again.

"F-fuck, so good." Reiner sputtered out praise, massaging the back of your head gently with one hand. It was a miracle you could breathe because the two of them weren't giving you a chance.

Marco's hand was in his pants, pumping away slowly, chasing a nut as he watched Reiner and Jean play tug of war with you and manhandled you. Listening to you cry out and moan was enough to cause him to erupt all over his hand. You groan at the empty feeling you feel as Jean pulls out. It didn’t last long though, as you squelch and pucker around him.

Suddenly you cried out as Jean pushed into your pulsating core, stuffing you even though he hadn't bottomed out. You're hogging Y/N, Reiner," Jean growled, his hands digging into your hips, pulling your ass apart. He watched part of his long and girthy shaft reappear and disappear from inside of you. "Let up, bro."

"Fuck no," Reiner breathed out, his eyes fluttering as he sighed, followed by more praise. Jean tugged you closer to him, against Reiner's needy and robust grip, pressing on your back, fixing your arch. To him, it wasn't deep enough; your ass needs to be higher. "Keep that arch, dammit."

You body lunges back and forth as they fuck into you simultaneously. You knees weaken as the realization sets in. To them, you were a rag doll, something they could use because you’d never stop them. You enjoyed it too much.

You cried out as Jean's large and heavy hand landed on your ass with a loud smack. His hands moved from your hips to your stomach; he slammed into the rest of the way and withdrew, leaving you feeling empty. Delicious pain shot through you as he pushed up back inside you.

The wetness of your mouth and your screams sending vibration down his dick, Reiner's hips to stall as he began to shake. To know that you even had this power over him caused you to clench around Jean.

Reiner moved his hands back to your head, tightening his grip in your now tangled hair. His dick hit the back of your throat as he forcefully pushed you closer to Jean, who thrust relentlessly, his head tossed make in pleasure. Reiner emptied himself down your throat, holding you in place as he forced you to take his load. "Swallow it all, beautiful." which you had no choice but to oblige; thankfully, he tasted pretty good. Sweeter than salty.

He moved a hand to your jaw, rubbing it softly as you breathed out heavily as he pulled out of your mouth with an audible pop. "Open up," he omitted quietly, tapping your chin. He wiped the wetness of tears from your eyes as you looked up at him through wet lashes, fighting moans as Jean also got sloppy with his thrusts.

Opening your mouth, Reiner looked inside and smiled constantly. "Good job, you did so well." though he was on his knees, he leaned down to kiss you right as your much-awaited orgasm shot through you as Jean's dick rubbed against you g spot, his thumb playing with your sensitive clit, the warm pit in your stomach boiling over as you spilled out onto Jean's pulsating length.

You pulled away from Reiner and cried out as Jean pulled you close to him, pinning your hands behind your back as he fucked you through your orgasm, laying you against the cold tiles that cut through your warmth. He laid on top of your shaking figure; he laid perfectly on your arch, putting all his weight on you to hold you down. Pulling out of you, Jean came on your ass, using a hand to smear it all over you. You noticed that Bertholdt finally turned around, a concerned look on his face as he held a rag, sitting in a chair.

Finally letting you go, Jean stood up smiling as he watched you lay on the ground. Walking around you, he stands at your hand. Watching your chest heave up and down made satisfaction shoot through him. "Told you that you'd like it." Jean laughed at your dazed expression, glazed over eyes and a tired and euphoric smile on your face.

Before Jean could get into aftercare, Bertholdt swooped you up as you cried out. You were sensitive, and they were pretty rough. "Aftercare is essential. Let's clean you up, baby." Bertholdt held you close, smiling softly as you looked at him through teary eyes.

He sat back in the chair, using the damp rag to wipe away the spit that covered your face, along with the nut on your ass, and also your folds, while he told you how perfect you had been, how sexy it was to watch his friends use you while your face was in his shirt. "Can you do me a favour?"

Looking up, you nodded your head, listening to whatever Bertholdt is about to say. You would speak, but you were still coming down from your high.

"Let me taste you." Passion burns in his eyes as Bertholdt licks his lips. You couldn't say no, not to that face. You hear the other boys laugh and tease the both of you.

You hide your face in his shirt as he wraps his around you, "you don't have to, but I'd like it." he muttered so only you could hear. He was giving you an out; if today had been too much, then Bertholdt hoped to do it someday along the line.

" I want to," you say hoarsely, your throat still ached from Reiner. "Let's lay by the shower," Bertholdt instructed as he covered your named body to one of the showerheads. He positioned you so that the water would hit your upper stomach. Turning it on to the lowest setting, water gently spurts out of the faucet, spraying a warm mist over your body that ached from being slutted out by Jean and Reiner. Who knew the pairing made for a devilish dicking down.

Bertholdt brought you back to his attention as he lifted your legs over his shoulders. He scooted close enough to smell your desire. He teased your clit with a light brush of his fingers. You cry out, the feeling of want to build deeply inside you.

"Such a tease," you muttered, bucking your hand against his skimming hand. Laughing lightly at you, Bertholdt teases your clit a few times before he sucked on it. Your thigh squeeze, involuntarily but Bertholdt opened your legs up. His tongue danced around your clit, rolling it between his lips as you began to moan out, your hands resting on his head, tingling as water lightly drizzles upon your arm. Bertholt put his arms around you, massaging your tummy in his hand while his tongue rubbed your clit. He sucked on every part of your pussy, that he could.

As he began to fuck you with his tongue, he dropped a hand down to run a tight circle with his thumb on your clit. Convulsing, you bucked your hips to match the flow of his tongue, working for your orgasm. Your breath began laboured as you met eyes with the other guys.

“Such a good girl, look at the way your grinding into Bert’s face,” Marco praised as you began to hump their friend’s face while he worshiped you with his tongue.

"You look adorable when you are about to cum," Reiner teased as he chuckled at your expression. You couldn't help but chew your lip with anticipation for your release.

"I can't believe you are this slutty," Jean laughed as he fucked you with his eyes.

You began to babble, at a loss for words due to their words and Bertholdt devouring you like he hadn’t ate earlier today in the mess hall

They loved to see you so vulnerable like this; it was a side not many seen since you were a seasoned soldier. But to see you mewling around through touch was enough to drive them nuts. They often all fantasized about you, they knew that they had a mutual crush on you, which they playfully argued about but it was nothing detrimental. And now, here they are, fucking you together, and jacking off to the way your face contorted and the way your body twisted, begging for more.

“Damn, if i knew, ah, that your mouth was this good, I would’ve hopped on a lot sooner.” You breathed out, hard carding through his soft brown hair.

“You taste so damn sweet,” Bertholdt muttered, his nose nudging your pulsating clit as he dipped his tongue into your core. He groaned at the way you tasted as he spread you open, licking a bold strip down your folds.

You watch the others as they pump away with their cocks in hand. Black dots cover your vision as you feel another orgasm shoot through to, Soaking Bertholdt's chin and lips as he lapped up your orgasm, his hands massaging away at your tummy.

Curses leave your lips as you rock your hip into his mouth that attempted to swallow your soul. "Ah~ Fuck!" you cried out, tears pricking in your eyes.

"It's okay, Y/N." Marco's voice echoes through you as you shook with pleasure. Reaching for him, Marco took his hand in yours, and he used the other one to brush your tears away. "You've been doing so good, now of your turn to be pleasured." he purred in your ear as he guided you through your second orgasm.

You latch onto his lips with yours, your tongue fighting to devour each other. Marco grinned at your breathy moans that he swallowed.

As your moans came to a stop, you couldn't help but lightly push Bertholdt away from your center. You were way too sensitive, and if he could have it his way then, you'd be there in that spot, all damn night.

He laughed as he laid eyes on you, you looked fucked beyond your comprehension, and your mind was still catching up. "You tasted amazing, thank you." Bertholdt pressed his lips to yours one last time to let you taste yourself.

Humming in his mouth, you hug him. You felt thankful and were in utter bliss. You've never been fucked so good before. This was your first 5-some, and you knew this was heavily frowned upon, but these four made you feel the best you have ever felt.

Reiner handed you your shorts and his undershirt so that you could get dressed. "So," he began, both of your faces glowing red and hot. "I think I speak for the guys when I say, this was fun. If you weren't satisfied, or this isn't your thing, we don't have to do it again, but we could." Reiner trailed off as the guys mutually agreed out loud. “Shit we would be more than welcome to doing this frequently.”

"It was enjoyable, a bit too enjoyable. It seems like now we are a party of 5, causing regular sex isn't going to cut it if I can be fucked with that," you laugh as you slip your clothes on. Pressing your lip to Reiner's lips and then each boy after that.

"Reiner and Jean," you call as you break away from your kiss with Bertholdt. "Next time, maybe don't fight with each other." you giggle as they awkwardly grin with knowing smiles.

"You liked it," Jean muttered as he pulled you into him, tucking you into his side as he kisses the top of your head.

"I did, now let's finish." you admitting, grabbing your things to finish cleaning before Levi makes an appearances. You ignored the shaking of your legs until you had finished. The five of you are finally at the dorms when you collapse into Marco, who carried you back.

Like you had said, it was like a guilty pleasure. You enjoyed being around beautiful men who wanted on you hand and foot. They were amazing and the sex was great too.

#attack on titan #jean kirschtein imagine #jean kirschtein x reader #marco bott #marco bodt #marco bodt x reader #reiner braun smut #shingeki no kyojin #imagines #smut #aot smut #attack on titan smut #bertholdt x reader #jean brainrot #reiner brainrot

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elenamiria · 4 years

Text

Billy Loomis x Reader x Stu Macher - Kinktober Day 27

Tentacles | Sthenolagnia | Costumes or Masks | Medical Play

Word Count: 2.4k Warnings: All characters are legal in this, aged up au, implied established relationship, Slightly Darker themes in this than normal, slight dubcon, Billy and Stu are assholes, slight knifeplay, fingering, mirror kink, face fucking, derogatory name calling, p in v penetration, unprotected sex, rough sex, spanking, orgasm denial, hair pulling, noncon creampie,

Kinktober Day 26 « Kinktober Masterlist » Kinktober Day 28

Main Masterlist & Taggies: @legally-a-bastard , @katrynec , @mistermiraclee

You had no idea what was wrong with you. As you sprinted through your house you questioned your sanity, why the fuck were you wet right now. You should have been absolutely terrified as a masked murderer chased after you yet here you were turned on and very confused.

You reached your bedroom and slammed the door shut behind you, hands fumbling with the lock. Screaming as you felt a body slam against it you swore as your fingers wet slick with sweat failed to turn the lock. As you adjusted slightly your chaser slammed into the door again, flinging it open and causing you to stumble back - falling onto the ground as you tripped over yourself. Chest heaving as you inched backwards you whimpered as the person in the Ghostface costume stalked towards you.

Whoever it was tutted your name as he crouched down to your level and a gloved hand shot out to wrap around your throat. Your scream was cut off as he hauled you upwards to slam you against the wall, his other hand trailing a knife down your sternum and stomach. The head tilted as your breathing hitched and changed to short pants as the knife reached your pants. Suddenly the knife was clattering to the ground as his hand tightened around your neck and your eyes squeezed shut as another weak whine flew from your lips. You expected to be choked to death but when his free hand groped at your tits over your shirt your eyes flew open again as a confused squeak left your body.

It was late and so you weren't wearing a bra, nipples hardening at the ministrations that seemed so familiar to you. As the masked man pinched and tugged at your nipples it clicked together as a pleased playful growl filled the air and your jaw dropped in indignation.

"Stu??" You cried out as you slapped at his arm. A laugh came from under the mask that left you no question as to who was under it and you shoved him as you growled out, "What the fuck Stu, you scared the shit out of me!"

He laughed again as he quipped, "Oh really? You didn't seem to be putting up much of a fight baby, I think you liked it."

Your face heated at his words as his grip on you loosened now that the gig was up, his other hand slipping under your shirt to grope at your bare tits. Your head tilted back against the wall as a moan flew from your lips, eyes sliding shut. Biting your lip as Stu continued to play with your nipples one of your hands slid down the front of his costume to grope at his cock. He jolted and your eyes opened to shoot him a smirk but instead a scream was once again leaving you as another Ghostface snuck up behind Stu, knife raised. You slapped Stu's shoulder with a cry for him to look out as you trembled until another familiar laugh filled the air. Your face dropped in annoyance as your suspicions were confirmed by Billy ripping off his mask, a dark smirk on his face.

"Fuck you guys." you hissed at the two of them. "That's the plan." Billy grinned at you. Rolling your eyes you grumbled out a 'you wish.' causing both of them to laugh.

"Don't be so upset, admit it you loved that little show. I bet if Stu took off those flimsy little shorts you'd be soaked under there. Wouldn't you?" Billy's words had you bristling until Stu's still gloved fingers were trailing down your body to do exactly that, tearing your shorts down your legs.

You huffed as you shifted slightly in embarrassment as your pussy was bared to them. Stu's hands nudged your legs apart and his fingers dipped in between your folds and he let out a coo of your name as he felt just how slick you were for them. "Listen if you think I'm going to fuck you just because I'm wet then you hav-"

You were cut off by Billy harshly grasping your upper neck and jaw. A surprised squeak left your mouth as Billy growled out at you, "No, you listen you brat. You're going to do exactly what I tell you to do if you wanna live. Is that clear?"

You nodded, eyes wide as a cool smile covered his face at your obedience. Stu's voice filled the air as he laughed at your reaction, "Oh, she liked that Billy. You should've felt how she trembled at that."

Your face heated as you stared at Billy and his grip tightened - delight dancing in his eyes, "Is that so. You wanna be treated like we're the bad guys? You want us to take what we want from you?"

Gasping at his words you just barely nodded but a moan escaped your throat as Stu slipped two fingers into you unexpectedly. Your cunt clenched around him at the intrusion and his fingers immediately started curling and pumping into you. Billy shook your head slightly as your gaze had slid over to Stu and you refocused on his face. "Are you gonna be a good girl and listen to what I say?"

Your answering 'yes' turned into a cry of pleasure as Stu found your clit, thumb pressing on the bundle of nerves. Billy smirked before he grabbed Stu's shoulder and his fingers slipped from within you.

"Get on your knees unless you want to be punished little brat." Swallowing you obeyed as Billy pulled his costume up to his hips and pointedly looked at his jeans. Your hands flew to the button of his pants undoing it and gently tugging the zipper down, you looked up at him and he nodded. Pulling his pants and underwear down his cock flew free, bouncing slightly in front of your face.

Your mouth watered as you opened up, hands grasping at the back of his thighs while you slid his cock into your hot mouth. Billy shifted the fabric of his costume above your head to one hand as his other came to cup the back of your head, your eyes slid up to his face as he guided you up and down his length. His hips started pushing back and forth as you gagged on his cock, fucking your mouth harshly. Eyes watering your fingers dug into the back of his thighs as you struggled to catch your breath every time he pulled back, a groan flew from his mouth as he slid himself into your throat.

You jerked slightly as you struggled to breath and you slapped at his thigh, tears filling your eyes. Billy moaned your name as he pushed forward just a bit more and you gagged hard. He pulled back out of your mouth and you gasped for air as you coughed violently, bracing your hands on your knees. Stu gently pushed your shoulders forward as he pulled your hips out from under you. A startled yelp flew from your mouth as he positioned you face down, ass up. You flinched forward as something hard prodded at your soaked cunt and you whimpered as you realized it was Stu's length. You panted as you came back to your senses and you whined out, "Stu are you wearing a condom?"

There was no response as Stu surged forward into you, stretching you out and you felt every inch of his bare length. You swore as your fingers scrabbled at the ground, cunt clenching hard around him and your face heated at how hot this was. Stu didn't respond as his gloved hands grabbed onto your hips and he started thrusting before you were fully adjusted. Your mouth fell open as he pounded into you, your face rubbing against your carpeted floor and you moaned out his name.

"That's it baby, take my cock." Stu spoke but it came out distorted and modulated as if he had activated some sort of voice changer. This had your walls fluttering around him and his modulated laugh filled the air around you at your reaction. You weren't sure where Billy had gone but you heard him moving things around. With the way Stu was fucking into you, cock sliding deep into you at every thrust, you didn't have it in you to care what Billy was doing. That is until two hands grabbed your head, one on your neck and one in your hair, to wrench your face up.

Billy had moved your long mirror directly in front of where you were currently being fucked. Your eyes met his in the mirror as he smirked at you and then your eyes darted to Stu, pussy once again clenching at the sight of him dressed as Ghostface fucking you. Billy let go of your head with an order to watch yourself and you shifted your arms to hold yourself up. Stu's hand took Billy's place at the back of your head, holding you up, as his modulated voice grounded out, "Fuck that's sexy, you like being fucked like a little slut. Fucking the big bad killer to save your life?"

You couldn't lie this was turning you on so much your orgasm was right around the corner and Stu's words had you crying out for more, "Yes, yes! I'm a slut for you! Oh, please don't kill me, fuck me harder!"

Both Billy and Stu groaned at your dirty talk and Stu sped up, the noise of his hips slapping against yours filling your room. Stu swore as your walls clamped down on him and he ripped out of your cunt just in time for his load to spurt onto your lower back.

Your walls clenched around nothing as tears filled your eyes at the orgasm he had unknowingly denied from you. This time it was you swearing as one of your hands lowered to rub at your clit desperately, ignoring the boys as you whined and whimpered desperately trying to cum. A hand wrapped around your wrist as Billy growled out, "Did I say you could touch yourself little brat?"

You arched your back, wiggling your ass desperately at him only to yelp when a firm slap met one of your cheeks. Your eyes met his in the mirror as you whimpered out his name only to receive another firm slap. His hands soothed over the spots he spanked only to slam down on another untouched spot until tears were trickling down your face and you were begging him for mercy. Billy pulled back to run his fingers, ungloved, through your folds ensuring you were wet enough before lining his head up with your entrance. In a surprisingly gentle move that had you melting under him Billy ran his hands up and down you back questioning, "Do you think you can take me?"

You were still catching your breath but you nodded at him as you spoke, "Please Billy, I wanna cum for you so badly."

With your encouragement Billy pushed forward, sheathing himself in your tight cunt in a single thrust. You moaned loudly as your head fell to the floor at the feeling. Billy wasn't having that though as his hand slid to the front of your neck to yank you up so you would watch as he slowly pulled back and then slammed forward into you. He kept that up for what felt like forever, the torturous slow drag of him against your walls only for his cock to slam into something inside you that had you dizzy with pleasure. It wasn't long until you were babbling nonsense, pleas for him to fuck you faster and harder, that was what Billy wanted - you begging for him.

So, since he got what he wanted he had no problem helping you out too and he started a hard pace fucking into you. Your hips bounced off of his and you cried out as your cunt clenched hard onto him, his fingers finding your clit and circling quickly, pushing into orgasm. Your walls clung to him and Billy moaned your name as he spanked you one last time, hips speeding up, before he groaned out, "Do you want my cum little slut? Want me to fill you up?"

It took you a second to process his words before you flailed against him as you ground out, "Billy don't you fucking dare!"

He pulled you up against him, your back to his front, his hand firm around your neck as his other sped up against your clit prolonging your pussy spasming around him. Billy's eyes locked onto you in the mirror, your jaw dropped from pleasure and eyes glassy, his hand left your throat for just a moment to rip your shirt up exposing your tits to him. His harsh pace bouncing your breasts and the sight of that plus the way you gasped for air when his fingers tightened against your throat had him cumming.

He didn't pull out, instead shooting hot ropes of cum into your tight little cunt, painting your walls with his seed and you gasped at the feeling. Your walls fluttered around him as his hips jerked against yours and then stilled as he was sure he had spilled every drop of himself within you. Billy pressed soft kisses to your throat as you glared at him in the mirror, nostrils flaring in annoyance, "Billy. What the fuck."

He nipped at your neck causing a shiver to run down your spine as he cooed, "You're on the pill right? It'll be fine."

You gnawed on your lip, he was right but you were still annoyed about it until Stu calmed your nerves - reappearing at your side now maskless.

"Even if anything happens we'll take care of you baby, we always do!" He chirped out giving you a playful smile. You could never stay mad at Stu and a small smile broke out on your face despite you rolling your eyes as he pressed a sweet kiss to your lips.

Billy finally slipped out of your pussy and a gush of liquid from your combined released followed causing your face to heat up. Both of your boys groaned at that as Stu whispered something about how hot that was as you stumbled to your feet. You tugged your oversized shirt back over your body as Stu steadied you and pressed a kiss to your head. Billy was tucking himself away as he shot you another smirk, "Baby, if we knew how horny you'd be for us chasing you through your house we would have done this ages ago."

You huffed slightly as you grumbled, "You scared the shit out of me," before your voice dropped low in embarrassment, "But I wouldn't mind doing it again."

#billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #billy x reader x stu #Kinktober 2020 #scream fanfiction #ghostface x reader #billy loomis x you #stu macher x you #horror #billy loomis smut #stu macher smut #ghostface smut #reader insert smut #tw slight dubcon #tw dubcon #tw dubious consent #skeet ulrich fanfiction #matthew lillard #skeet ulrich

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hockeywhy · 3 years

Text

caught in the middle (1); m. barzal

SYNOPSIS: For the sake of your friend’s wedding with Tito, you and Mat agree to maintain the facade of still being the happy couple everyone sees you as. But the act comes with its consequences, one more taxing than the other. WARNINGS: language. WORD COUNT: 11.2k A/N: I am so excited for this because it contains some of the tropes I enjoy seeing in fics, and I was dying to also put out some new content as opposed to only reposting my old writing. I wish I wrote this when I was still decent at doing the thing, but I hope that this is still an enjoyable read that makes you look forward to the next part! Title is based off Alexander 23′s Caught in the Middle which is such a good song and I really recommend. Sections in italics represent flashbacks.

PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

“We’re getting married!”

You gasped, bringing both hands to cover the lower half of your face as your jaw dropped at the announcement. It shouldn’t be so surprising – you would’ve bet even your most prized possession that this was bound to happen at some point eventually – but knowing this was actually now a sure thing sent a thrill through you. It didn’t take long for the shock to wear off and in place of it, your expression mirrored that of your best friend’s: the wide grin, the bright eyes and of course, the giggles of sheer excitement as soon as the news sunk in. Elise was glowing and next to her, Tito embodied the idea of what the world’s proudest man would look like.

“Oh my god!” you gasped, and Elise burst into laughter, not hesitating to jump out of her seat at the same time you did so that the two of you could embrace. Among your squeals and giggles, you could faintly make out the sound of hands being clapped, then caught sight of Mat and Tito hugging. Over Elise’s shoulder and over Tito’s, you and Mat exchanged smiles and you couldn’t help the chuckle that left your mouth as soon as he winked at you. “Congratulations!” you said as soon as you broke apart, though the two of you still held hands. Immediately, your gaze fell down to her hand where a ring now rested, and you couldn’t help but wonder how you hadn’t taken notice of it earlier. “Just—when? How? Where? Who else knows?”

“We don’t have a date or venue set yet, but we wanted you and Mat to be the first to know,” Elise informed you as soon as you took your seats again.

“We have a favour to ask from both of you,” Tito supplied. As soon as he said it, you felt Mat’s hand wrap around your own and the two of you exchanged a brief look during which he squeezed your hand gently, before diverting your attentions back to the soon-to-be newlyweds.

Newlyweds. The immensity of the word sent a discrete shiver down your spine.

“I can’t imagine asking this of anyone else: I want you to be my best man,” Tito directed at Mat.

“You shouldn’t even think of asking this of anyone else,” Mat responded immediately, and the two shook hands on it. You couldn’t help but think that if they weren’t as comfortable as they were now, they’d probably hug again, do their typical pats on the back or fist bump as they usually did, but Elise’s head now rested on Tito’s shoulder and Mat’s hand was so warm, so firm atop your own.

“Be my maid of honour, please?” Elise asked. “I can’t think of anyone more suitable than you and Mat as best man and maid of honour. We’ll return the favour of course,” she added playfully.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you warned without hesitating because after all, you had no reason to – and you knew Mat would agree with you.

Although the two of you hadn’t touched on the subject yet, there was an unvoiced knowledge shared between you that eventually, this would also be you. Eventually, Mat would ask you and your heart would grow and your soul would warm, and you would say yes. Yes, yes, yes.

As you all settled down to hear a replay of how Tito popped the question and Elise accepted the ring, Mat’s thumb began caressing the back of your hand. Though the gesture wasn’t a novelty, you couldn’t help but take notice of the way your heart fluttered each time he seemed to linger more on your ring finger. It wasn’t difficult to imagine a ring wrapped around it but neither of you were in a rush: you simply waited for the right time to take your relationship to a point in which it would become a forever thing, fully confident it wasn’t a question of ‘if’ but rather, ‘when’.

This was anything but the right time.

You frown as you cast a glance down at the phone resting on your lap, eyes narrowing a little at the name which brought the display to life for the second time in the space of less than a minute. You click the side button twice, silencing the vibrations of it and from your side, your colleague leans in to whisper to you.

“You can take it if it’s urgent. I’ll fill you in afterwards.”

“Thanks,” you whisper back. “I think it can wait until the meeting wraps up though.”

Luke gives you a well, if you’re sure look as he leaned back in his chair and you flash him a grateful smile.

Still, it is difficult for you to settle comfortably in your seat again and much to your chagrin, you find yourself crossing and uncrossing your legs as if the call had sent some sort of signal to your entire body kickstarting jitteriness you can honestly do without. Not long after you find some comfort and energy to draw yourself back to the present, your phone buzzes again – only once this time, indicating a message.

I’m waiting for you in the lobby.

Fuck, you curse inwardly, locking the phone in frustration. As quietly as you can, you gather your notebook and work tablet then lean in towards Luke who met you halfway. “Have to run but let me know if I miss anything important.”

“At the current rate, I wouldn’t count much on it but will do anyway,” he states as quietly as he can and the two of you exchange sly, conspiratorial smiles before you excuse yourself quickly and very quietly while making a swift exit.

Internally, a string of curses follow without a break in between, and you have to physically bite down on your lip out of sheer fear one might unconsciously slip out. If anyone would be in your shoes, though, they wouldn’t blame you for it. You are the type of person to stick closely to any plans and agreements made, so the fact that he just chose to turn up so unexpectedly doesn’t sit right with you. Not anymore, that is. Besides, you had both agreed to do this after your workday ended as opposed to midday and definitely not in this place. Now, you have to brace yourself for coping with a foul mood on top of whatever else the rest of the day would throw at you.

“You’ve got a visitor,” Rachel announces quietly in a sing-song voice from behind the reception desk as you approach. She doesn’t bother masking the giddiness in her tone and you struggle to work up as genuine of a smile as you can when she nods her head towards the waiting area.

“Thanks, Rach.”

“Bet he must be so happy your redeployment to the Baltimore offices was cut short so quickly,” she coos.

“Sure is. We’re still on for tonight?” you ask quickly in an attempt to drive attention away from the subject before she can try to lead into it too far for your own comfort at the moment.

Rachel’s smile falters a little, her expression somewhat quizzical. “Don’t you want to postpone so you could spend some time with him? You only just got back yesterday, after all.”

You swallow uncomfortably before shrugging. “We’ve got plenty of time to do that. So tonight, okay? I’ll catch you later.”

“Your call. See you then, Y/N!”

You only had just a split second to brace yourself for what is ahead of you, so you draw in a breath then slowly exhale it as discreetly as you can while cutting your way across the lobby. Since agreeing to this meeting, you prepared yourself as best as you could, imagining every single scenario and devising the appropriate plan for it: from the way you presented yourself to what you said, you had a mental plan for everything including a few backups just in case. The only thing you hadn’t factored in, apparently, was how little was under your control and you hated that. Each step you take made you feel less and less prepared for what is ahead, and the thought rattles you. If you were swift enough on your feet, you could just about make a quick turn and dip into the hallway leading to the visitor restrooms. All you need is just a few more seconds. A little alone time for you to run over your lines in your head.

Except—

Mat looks up at the same time you take a step sideways, ready to bolt towards temporary safety. His eyebrows rise a little as if surprised by the sight of you, but you refuse to appear outwardly deflated by the turn of events. Instead, you square your shoulders, tip your head back a little and arch an eyebrow. You can do this. You note he is dressed casually, and his hair is pushed back underneath a black cap.

Unless there was a change in schedule, Thursdays were scrimmage days.

Your jaw clenches ever so slightly as you recall that with so much ease. Then again, you basically built up a collection of information that was practically helpful or useful to exactly no one over the course of the past few years. It’ll probably take just as much or maybe more to replace that with something different, so you try cutting yourself some slack whenever you are willing to.

“I thought we agreed on five thirty,” you state coolly, pitching your voice at just the right tone to also express surprise.

Mat pushes up from the armchair, returning whatever magazine he’d picked up back on the nearby glass table. “Sorry, I tried calling earlier this morning to ask if we can reschedule but it went straight to voicemail.”

Oh. You mentally curse yourself for not charging your phone as soon as you made it home from the airport the previous night or bothering to check the voicemail message you’d been notified of once it did begin charging earlier this morning at your desk.

“They rescheduled the viewing of the new arena for this evening, and I was in the area, so I thought I’ll drop by just in case,” Mat continues, throwing a cursory glance around the place though to you, it seemed more like a way of having a break from the eye contact. You don’t complain; you welcome that.

You open your mouth, ready to berate his poor timing but even you could admit you carry some fault here too. Only a little. You bite down lightly on the tip of your tongue, before nodding towards the seats though you didn’t wait for Mat; you sit, deciding he could make up his own mind if he wanted to follow or not.

“How was Baltimore?” he asks after a few moments of awkward silence while settling in the same armchair he previously occupied.

“Mat,” you say, hoping it comes across as more of a warning than a plea. You can’t deal with small talk and a part of you thinks that’d make the entire deal even more difficult to go through with. He presses his lips together into a thin line and you take that as your sign to continue. “Elise told me she’d like us to be at the venue a day in advance of the rehearsal dinner if we can. I’ve already arranged my leave for that, so it’s not a problem for me. I’m planning on making my way there sometime tomorrow afternoon.”

“We can go together then. I can pick you up after work.”

“There’s no need—”

“Y/N.” The sharpness of his tone catches you off guard and you can swear Mat was equally surprised by that, though only for the briefest of moments. He slides forward a little in the seat almost as if he is more than ready to leave but Mat has never been one to back down so easily and you doubt any of that changed during the course of the past three months or so. “You were the one who insisted we go through with this and I’m trying. I really am, but you’re not giving me anything to work with. So please. Let’s just put everything to the side, do what we need to do and then it’s done.”

Done. Like it is a task, like it is something you needed to cross off a to-do list, scrunch it up then trash it.

The finality of the word is so heavy that it feels as if it had managed to knock out all the air in your lungs. You and Mat were running headfirst towards a fork in the road, and deep down you knew that was truly it. If until now the two of you have been dancing around each other, playing pretend as if you were kids living in a world of fantasy, you know that eventually, you have to let light shine on the truth: whatever lay ahead, you and Mat could no longer walk the same paths. It is just a matter of admitting it not only to yourselves, but also to the people you were lying to.

Lying for, you prefer.

Defeated, you slump in your own seat a little, legs crossing and fingers tapping lightly against the back of your notebook. “Be at my place by two. I’ll have everything that I need ready the night before so we won’t need to wait around.” A pause, and then, “how’s Tito?”

Mat lifts a shoulder in a casual shrug. “Excited. Nervous. It’s the only thing he talks about in the locker, outside of it, on ice and off ice. How’s Elise?”

“Same deal with her. I never knew there were so many shades of blue before, but I’ve been proven wrong before.”

A pause follows that could easily be attributed to the group of people rushing into the building and allowing noise from the street outside to filter in while the doors were kept open, but you can tell there is more to it than that if you are to go by the shift in Mat’s expression. His expression changes and you find you can’t quite read into it or guess what could be going on through his head. You try not to focus much on the little voice inside your mind that was bothered by it but find it takes a considerable amount of effort to do so. Force of habit, you conclude.

“You don’t say,” Mat finally responds. There is a hint of accusation in his tone. Or regret. Maybe both.

Your lips press together firmly, a light frown forming on your face but chose to let that slide. Not only is the lobby of your workplace the least suitable place to have an argument about the two of you, but you find that even those short moments of seeing Mat face to face months after you called it quits appears to take a toll on you. You feel tired, worn out and willing to be the first one to back down for once.

It is cruel irony that a big red neon EXIT sign is visible from the corner of your eye.

You release a quiet, long sigh then stand up from the seat. “Well, I guess we’re done here? I do have another meeting to prepare for, so…” You trail off, already backing away a few steps.

Mat opens his mouth as if ready to say something else but promptly presses his lips together, deciding against it. He gives a swift nod of his head then stands up. It’s then you notice the two Styrofoam cups in front of him and the neon EXIT sign imprinted in your mind starts flashing temptingly at you. Mat is a step ahead. He holds out one of the cups towards you and you are ready to tell him off for it, but he cut in.

“Thought I wouldn’t drop by empty handed.” When you don’t make a move to accept it, his eyes briefly peek behind you. “Rachel’s all eyes this way, by the way,” he informs you and a brief glance over your shoulder confirms Mat hasn’t been lying.

As soon as you turn to look towards the reception desk, Rachel grins, waves quickly at you then turns back to her computer screen. Begrudgingly, you accept the cup of coffee and force a tight smile.

“See you soon,” you say by way of greeting and didn’t wait to hear a response from Mat.

It isn’t until you scan your pass to cross the security barriers and make a turn out of sight that you take a sip from the drink and almost immediately wish you didn’t. It’s your order to a T. The two of you even brought a coffee machine that would let you replicate it on days when you didn’t feel like leaving the comforts of your apartment, especially days when Mat didn’t need to get up early for practices or scrimmages or evening games. It stayed with Mat when you left and the memory left a bitter taste in your mouth, despite the gentle sweetness of the beverage.

Without thinking twice, you throw the cup in the nearest trash can.

As soon as your order is set on the table, you ignore the basket of fries and reach straight for your glass to take a long sip from the straw, letting out a content sigh as soon as you felt satiated enough.

“Long day,” you state in response to Rachel’s raised eyebrows but she seems to accept that by raising her own glass. You clink yours against hers, take a smaller sip then set it back down on the table. “What time do you think you’ll make it over to the hotel?”

“Well, I was thinking of trying to get there by midday on the day of the rehearsal dinner but it’s starting to look more like late afternoon. I’m…” She trails off, and you can just about pick up on her hesitation and the way her gaze shifts over to the side momentarily as if avoiding something or considering whether to continue that. You move in your seat, peeling your back away from the plush backrest to lean in a little closer.

“You’re…” you trail off, voice peaking just a little into a question in an attempt to prompt her to continue.

Rachel takes a deep breath in, shoulders visibly drooping and when she looked back at you, she did so with a look that could only reflect…shame? Embarrassment?

“Luke and I are sort of thinking of coming along together.” At the sight of your widened eyes, she quickly adds, “just as friends! We’re still working out through a few things and we’re taking it slow. As in, much, much slower than the first time around.”

“No way! That’s… Rach, that’s so good. I’m happy for you both, seriously.”

You find that you truly believed that, though it wasn’t a surprise to you. You had introduced Rachel to Luke while she visited you in Baltimore and at the time, he worked with you there also. Initially, you didn’t think much of it - you simply invited her to come along to a few after work drinks and the two kicked it off easily that night. Very easily apparently, because as the night started coming to an end, Rachel prompted you to go ahead without her. Ready to say you weren’t going to leave her own her own, you shortly found out exactly why: you watched with plenty of amusement and fascination as she and Luke climbed into a taxi together and whizzed off to his place, undoubtedly. That was pretty much their start and continuation. Her visits to Baltimore were more frequent and though you were seeing her often enough, it definitely wasn’t as much as Luke saw of her. And you were fine with that. They fit almost perfectly and it only took a few more meetings for them to label themselves as a couple.

Things began crumbling as soon as Luke had moved to the New York office just a few weeks before your own return. While he seemed fine with the idea of Rachel working in the same place, that wasn’t also her take on things.

“It’s weird,” she told you through the phone. “It just… It’s so weird. I’d be seeing him at my place or his and in the office? No thanks. That’s way too much for me, you know?”

It made sense, of course, and though you rooted for them, you didn’t want to push her into something she wasn’t comfortable with. Yet, there was a tremble to her voice, a sort of uncertainty that made you think otherwise. It wasn’t that Rachel didn’t have any feelings for him - maybe she was simply shocked to see him walk through those glass doors one morning to pick up his brand new ID and claim what would soon become his permanent desk across from yours.

“Thanks,” she tells you, pulling you back into the present. “But like I said, slow and easy does it. We’ve been talking more and that makes a huge difference.”

“For sure. If communication isn’t the backbone of a relationship, I don’t know what is,” you agree and wasn’t that ironic? You’re hardly in the position of giving any relationship advice at all or saying what is good for one and what isn’t. Not anymore. Not when your own had fallen apart.

Rachel grins. “You’d know. You and Mat have been together for… how long now?”

You should’ve seen it coming a mile away. You swallow uncomfortably, take another sip of your drink and take a few fries just to buy yourself a little more time. “Maybe four years? Don’t really keep track of that anymore,” you said as casually as you could muster, lifting your shoulders in a shrug.

“I think I’d stop doing that eventually too at the rate you two are going. Honestly, I would’ve bet anything you would’ve been the first to tie the knot. Actually, thinking about it,” she says, clicking her fingers in recollection, “Elise said the same thing to me the other day when we caught up on the phone. She went—“

You don’t really register her words. There is a low ringing in your ears and an uncomfortable draft sweeps in the locale as the entrance door somewhere behind you is being kept open, no doubt a large group making their way in; it sends shivers down your body, but really, you are pretty sure you can’t only attribute them to a brief gust of wind. After all, your sweater is keeping you sufficiently cosy and warm. In front of you, Rachel continues praising your relationship with Mat, talking about how anyone took a look at you both and would say, whatever they have going, I want it too and you are trying so, so hard to block out as much as you can of it. You can stop her, of course; distract her with whatever random topic and you know she’d go with it but your jaw is locked in place, teeth clenched uncomfortably. You blame that and the way your nails dig into the palms of your hands on the sting behind your eyes and the sudden heaviness weighting down on your chest.

It isn’t so much the pain of your relationship ending that was rendering you in a state of daze, but the shame of what you and Mat agreed to do: pretend the two of you were still the happy couple Elise, Tito and everyone else thought of you as just to not spoil whatever luck they thought you’d be passing on to them by being their main witnesses. And then, once the event passes and they would return to New York from the honeymoon you and Mat would soon gift to them on their wedding day, you’d tell them the truth. Or part of it anyway. Definitely no mentions that the two of you were childish enough to play pretend; just a simple, clean break timed just perfectly with your request to be permanently redeployed elsewhere. Preferably, as far from New York City as possible so that you no longer have to walk the streets you once both did or yearn to once again visit that perfect pie place the two of you once dubbed your own.

“We’re not together anymore.”

The words stumble out of your mouth in a desperate now or never manner. Despite the anxiousness that came with the act, you find relief in it also. It feels freeing to be able to admit the truth to someone that isn’t only yourself though perhaps you should’ve thought of this more carefully: the idea of now needing to come fully clean to Rachel is somewhat daunting, mostly because of what she might say in response to the front you and Mat are trying to uphold. But for the first time in what feels like too long, you no longer feel like a fraud; like a person lying to everyone around them.

“Wait.” Rachel frowns, and it was obvious she doesn’t quite know what to do with that information or how to best process it. Her head tilts a little, palm idly rubbing against the side of her neck so you take the initiative to come across as unbothered by this as possible by leaning into the seat, legs crossing as you fiddled with the drink’s straw. “What? I’m confused. Didn’t Mat just drop by earlier? You two seemed okay. He was…fine when he came in. We didn’t talk much, sure, but he was all smiley and just…normal.”

You laugh quietly and shortly. “It’s been a while now. Maybe two or three weeks before I left for Baltimore, I think. It’d be pretty worrying if he was still hung up about it. After all, we both agreed on it. And this,” you add, a little more disheartened and embarrassed. “This…thing we’re doing. We promised Tito and Elise we’ll be there for them on their big day and we will. But they had this… I guess, idea of us being an ideal couple. Whatever that is,” you continue more quietly and with a roll of your eyes. “He wanted to tell Tito, but I didn’t want to spoil Elise’s day, you know? So he agreed. Took some convincing because it feels so… Gosh, it sounds so stupid, doesn’t it? Pretending we’re still together just to spread some fake cheer around.”

“Oh, honey…” Rachel whispers and you read the sympathy in her voice. Not that she makes it particularly difficult to take note of. “But… I thought everything was okay. Actually, way more than okay. Perfect, even. What…uh—“ She trailed off awkwardly, but you could easily fill in that gap.

What happened?

You bring the beverage to your mouth, this time drinking from the glass directly as opposed to using the straw. The mixer stings your throat this time around but the small ice cube you take into your mouth numbs it away pretty quickly. Slowly, you chew it to small pieces and speak only when you finish it.

“I thought long and hard about this the first few weeks after we called it quits,” you admit. “We always talked about what bothered us or if there was something on our mind, but at one point we just… We stopped wanting to compromise. When I was put forward for Baltimore, it was going to be a permanent thing. Mat was happy, sure, but I could tell he wasn’t being entirely honest with me, you know? When I called him out on it, he asked me well what about us? And I said we’d be fine. Baltimore isn’t a different continent. It’s not even a different timezone. He could come over when he had free time and if he didn’t, I’d always spend weekends in New York anyway. It’s Baltimore, Rach. Not fucking San Francisco or whatever. Eventually, he told me exactly what was on his mind: he couldn’t do long distance. Not even for a short period of time while I figured out if Baltimore is really what I wanted. Isn’t it a bit hypocritical, though?” You question, but it’s clear Rachel feels a bit awkward about giving her take on it right now, so you make it easier for her by responding to your own question. “I felt lonely too when he was on the road. I was worried he’d find someone different, someone much better while away. He never gave me a reason to doubt him, but a small part of me still thought what if. This happened right before he was on the road again, actually. We didn’t call, barely even texted those weeks and then when he returned, we decided it’d be best to break up. Didn’t take us a long discussion to get to that conclusion because at that point, it just… I don’t know. It felt like we didn’t have much to say to each other.”

Rachel presses her lips together, the frown still on her face and hesitantly, she asks, “who said it first?”

“I did,” you respond without hesitating. “He wanted a break while we work it all out but come on, Rach, a break? Look me in the eyes and tell me people really believe in breaks and they come back to each other as if nothing happened.”

“I mean…” she trails off, pointing at herself by way of explanation. “Look at me and Luke, I guess.”

You shake your head. “Nope. Not the same thing, trust me. This was for the best, Rach. It’s much neater to call it quits. That way, neither of us will feel obliged to hold back if life puts something different ahead of us.” You pause for a moment, teeth biting into your lower lip. “They said they’ll always have me back there if I decide on it, so who knows. Once I wrap up the project their called me back for, I might just take them up on it. Not quite a promotion, but it’ll be a good sidestep and maybe a change of scenery is what I need.”

“And do you think it’s good? What the two of you are doing right now?” Rachel questions, not at all deterred by your weak attempt at trying to divert conversation to a more work related topic. “And I don’t mean it just for Elise and Tito’s wedding, but for you and Mat generally speaking. I mean… the two of you have been together for a pretty long time. Doesn’t it… Isn’t it odd?”

“It’s not normal, that’s for sure,” you confirm. “But it’d be weirder for everyone if we were to tell them we’re no longer together given we’ve been asked to do what we need to do. Rach, promise me this stays between us, okay? Promise. I know how it sounds, I know how it’ll look but trust me on this, okay?”

She fixes you with a sceptical stare, a look that holds yet more questions than certainty but eventually, she nods her head and relief washes over you at the gesture. “I’m sorry it happened, Y/N,” she offers, voice warm and sympathetic as she places a hand on the table palm up. “And I’m sorry you went through it alone.”

You smile softly and reach for it, returning the squeeze she gives you. There is comfort in the gesture, comfort in her words and you find yourself rooting for it, so grateful to have received it. “The worst part is over, but thank you, Rachel. “It means a lot.”

“Feel like carpooling with Luke and I?”

“I’m good,” you assure as you both relax back into your seats. “Elise wants us there the day before the rehearsal. I guess just to have some familiar faces around that aren’t just wedding planners, so Mat and I agreed to go together tomorrow. Promise I won’t lose my shit if our song plays on the radio,” you add jokingly and find yourself laughing along with Rachel.

“What song’s that?”

Too many, you think, although one in particular stands out to you. “Brett Young’s In Case You Didn’t Know.”

A tray containing an assortment of dishes is set on the table and shortly after, an ice cold pitch of sangria accompanies that. Eager to cool down, you reach for one of the empty glasses to pour yourself a drink but Mat’s quicker. He takes them both, filling your glass first before his own. You laugh to yourself and Mat grins at that, briefly looking towards you as he fills his glass. You’re about to take a sip, eager to both quench your thirst and cool down but Mat takes the initiative of initiating a toast by raising his glass a little, elbow resting on the table.

“What’re we toasting for tonight?” You ask, imitating his pose by leaning forward a little. “To our first holiday together? To how perfect the weather’s been so far? To how I mastered paddle boarding way before you did?”

Mat laughs, lowering his head as he did so but when he looked back up at you, he clinked his glass against yours and held it there. “To all of that. To one of the many, many holidays we’ll have together. To this moment right here, to us, to you.” He pauses and the strobe lights of the bar switch from dark blue to hot pink, and the way Mat stares at you in this moment makes your heart race inexplicably. “To how much I love you.”

He takes your breath away. Draws it right out of your lungs and you feel heady. It’s the first summer with Mat, the first I love you from him and it suddenly feels as if this bar is too small for the both of you. You love him, and he loves you too and the only thing you could imagine doing is jumping in his arms but there’s a table between you and sangria topped wine glasses in your hands, and he’s wearing a pristine white shirt that looks incredible against his tanned skinned and there’s a lot of people around (the majority significantly older than both your age and Mat’s combined) so you simply grin and carefully lean forward more, pressing a kiss to his mouth.

“I love you,” you murmur against his lips and even if your voice is low compared to the loud, cheesy country music blasting through hidden stereos, you know Mat catches on to that.

“I love you,” he says right back and before you pull away, he bumps his nose against yours gently, making you giggle.

You both take a sip of your drinks and you smack your lips together, content with the turn of the night.

You and Mat had been dating for a few months, but this was the first time the two of you will spend back to back nights and days together without needing to rush somewhere. Of course, a part of you was anxious about it - while it was easy to spend a few hours together now and then, maybe even the odd night together, it was entirely different being together pretty much all the time. There were habits and quirks you each had that might get in the way, but your worries were soon put to rest. You and Mat had wonderful chemistry together, easily able to spend your time together but also still enjoy each other’s company while doing separate activities. You didn’t want to rush into things and you made no move to do so, but it was ever so easy to imagine what living with Mat would be like. And sure, you were well aware of the fact that it wouldn’t always be sunshine and rainbows; the two of you would eventually transition out of this honeymoon-type period of your relationship, but something told you life would Mat would never bore you. It’d never make you wish for anything different.

“Give me a second,” Mat says and before you could ask him what he meant, he’s out of his seat and you follow him across the bar, a little confused.

He makes his way past the bar, past the pool tables and stops in front of what is undoubtedly a jukebox. Curious, you arch an eyebrow and watch as he fiddles with finding the right amount of change before inserting the coins in the slot. It takes him a while before he finds whatever song it is he wants and it takes enough time for him to make it back to your table before the jukebox and sound system registers the request. You don’t recognise the first few notes at all, much less the accompanying guitar strings but you don’t have time to search your memory for a title.

Mat stops by your side, holding a hand out to you. “Dance with me.” It’s more statement than question and under any circumstances, you may have felt a little awkward about doing this, but it’s the heat of the moment and your giddiness that pushes you to your feet, hand in Mat’s.

The two of you are beaten to an emptier area in the establishment by two other much older couples that were closer to it anyway, and you find that gives you a bit more of a boost also. Mat pulls you to him, wrapping one arm around your waist while holding on to your free hand while you hold on to his shoulder with the other. Your fingers lightly clench and unclench the soft material of his shirt, lowering your head a little and you smile against the back of your hand. It’s so painfully cheesy and there’s nowhere near enough other people dancing along to the song but you love it much more than you thought you ever would.

“Know what I’d invest all my money into?” He asks you suddenly.

You pull back a little, still swaying along with the song. “Cryptocurrency seems like a safe bet right now.”

Mat laughs, that big hearty laugh of his that makes your smile wider and when it passes, he presses a chaste kiss on your forehead. “Well, I’m glad one of us has a good head on their shoulders, but no.” He shakes his head, then laughs again, shorter and quieter as if recalling your response. “A time machine. I want to stop time right here and right now so that we can be as we are for a little while longer.”

“Cheesy,” you joke, despite the warmth coursing across your entire body and the jelly-like feeling forming in your knees. “But perfectly understandable.”

“Eventually, we wouldn’t need it, but it’d be nice to have one for tonight.”

“Eventually? How so?” You question, then narrow your eyes a little, the gesture playful. “You plan on getting bored of me and breaking up?”

“What!” He exclaims and pulls you in just that much closer. He lets go of your hand only so he could bring his to your chin, tipping your head back a little. “Never,” kiss, “say that,” kiss, “again.” The final kiss you share with him is a little longer and you take the liberty of bringing your hand to his chest, palm pressing against it to feel the thump of his heart against his ribcage momentarily. Then, slowly, you graze the tips of your nails along his exposed collarbone and peck his lips once more before pulling away. It’s then that the song’s name and artist comes to your mind, almost as an afterthought. From hidden speakers, Brett Young declares I couldn’t live life without you and Mat gives you a pointed stare. “Damn, he said it before I could.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” you assure him. “Either way, I think I prefer hearing it from you, Barzal.”

“I’m pretty sure I couldn’t live without you,” he recites and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. He sways you both in a more exaggerated manner that makes you cling to him more out of habit than necessity. You’ve known you’d trust Mat with anything, but each day, he seems to do something that makes that thought solidify more and more in your mind. The comfort and safety that brings wraps around you like a warm blanket.

Be it the hot weather, the somewhat stifling interior of the bar, the sips of sangria on an empty stomach, the euphoria of the moment or all things combined, you nod quickly. And from somewhere in the depths of your mind, the very bottom of your heart, you respond with, “I can get used to this day after day. So don’t let me go, baby.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he whispers, tone full of care and love and warmth. He gives you his promise without hesitation and you know it’s bound to stick.

Your phone buzzes once.

I’m downstairs. Need help with your bags?

You push up from the comfort of your couch and make one last round of your apartment to make sure you had everything you definitely needed from where it was placed.

I’m good. Will be down in a minute, you text back but don’t pocket your phone right away. Instead, you stare at the screen for a little while longer, half tempted to scroll through the thread of messages. They’d provide a stark timeline of when things started going wrong and you would probably be able to see exactly how things changed between the two of you from the moment you suggested a mere break wouldn’t do it. But doing that would be like breaking a streak you had going for sufficient time to earn a pat on your back. The journey of getting to a point where you were sufficiently okay with being in Mat’s presence without any other company was a long one and the last thing you needed was to recall how it once was.

You and Mat started out as friends after Elise introduced the two of you just a short while before he started his professional career with the Islanders. She talked about how the two of them met in school and how great of a guy he was; real down to earth, funny and incredibly ambitious - traits she also assigned to you, and therefore thought the two of you would get along great. She wasn’t wrong about it. You knew a little about hockey, going to games every now and then mostly whenever Elise dragged you along but you found that Mat made the game more enjoyable. He explained it to you in a manner that didn’t make you feel belittled or as if it should be something you already knew of, and didn’t mind explaining some things more than once. On the other hand, you introduced him to your own hobbies and the little world you created for yourself in a city as big and busy as New York. You showed him the more lowkey but homely establishments, including your favourite pizza place that - unbeknown to you at the time - would become yours and his, and even took him to a few student bars where you regularly beat him at pool while he showed off at darts. Occasionally, it felt weird to watch him unwind in such…normal places and ways while on other days, he shone on ice and was easily one of the best rookies emerging from one of the country’s most well known sports leagues. Yet despite that, you found that athlete Mat wasn’t all that different from Mat the person.

He never put a front and his genuine manner was refreshing to you, particularly during a time when you were still a college student and a good portion of the guys around were textbook frat boys. Being around Mat was comfortable and safe. You didn’t feel the need to speak a certain way or be a different person, and retrospectively, the way you felt towards him developed almost organically. You felt yourself gravitating towards him and were pleasantly surprised by the moments when he’d seek you out first. A day off here and a day off there until eventually, you found yourself spending much of your free time with him and vice-versa.

Falling in love with Mat was easy. Being without Mat was difficult. But, thankfully, not impossible apparently.

Convinced you packed everything you needed, made your way out with a duffle bag on your shoulder and a suitcase at your heels.

True to his word, Mat was parked in front of your place and as soon as you pushed open the building’s door, he looked up from his phone and made his way over to you. The last thing you needed was to make the journey any more awkward or difficult for the both of you, so you didn’t argue when he took the bags from you to stow them away in the trunk.

“Are you going across the country?” You ask, peeking into the trunk while he plays Tetris with the bags.

“What?” He questions, evidently distracted by the task at hand but straightens up when you delicately place a hand on his arm, pushing him to the side a little.

“You’d think you’re going across the country for like, two or three weeks rather than a couple of days,” you repeat. “Maybe put that smaller bag sideways? That might let the bigger suitcase fit.”

He follows your guidance and sure enough, that does the trick: the suitcases fit perfectly in the trunk and you grin to yourself, triumphant.

Mat steps back, closing the trunk and brushes his hands together. “Thanks,” he says and you nod, heading towards your seat in the front. He follows you inside just as you click in your seatbelt. “I don’t think it’ll take us more than two or three hours to get there if traffic’s as good as it was when I checked it a little while earlier. Got everything?”

“Everything important that is. Everything else, I’ll just worry about and pull my hair out when we get there,” you tell him and you can’t help feeling proud for being able to keep conversation light and as normal as you can.

After all, you’ve known life before Mat and you’re rediscovering it after him too.

Mat laughs ever so quiet, and from the corner of your eye, you catch him brushing his hand across his mouth though he’s a few seconds too slow in trying to mask his smile.

“I think I’ll need to fill up soon, but let me know if there’s anywhere else you want to stop along the way,” he tells you while pulling out of the parking spot.

You nod even if he probably might not see it and take the liberty to scroll through radio stations. Mat doesn’t seem to be against it, so you continue switching to them until, a little frustrating that nothing seems to work for you, you connect your phone to the car and play one of your playlists. A mix of upbeat pop and an assortment of viral tracks fill in the silence for a while, and the act of singing along in your head takes your mind away from how it almost feels as if you’re sitting on needles. It takes a conscious effort on your behalf to remind yourself to loosen your shoulders and stop fiddling too much with your hands, and you’re glad Mat seems to be plenty preoccupied with driving. Once upon a time, he would’ve immediately picked up on even the most mild of your discomforts and tried to do anything he could to alleviate them. You don’t know how much, if at all, Mat changed during the time you spent apart but you want to think that you no longer wear your heart on your sleeve as much and your emotions are much more guarded, especially in his presence.

Apparently, though, there’s only so much he can take with silence filled in by music because once he’s off busier streets, he leans in his seat more comfortably and you can tell he very briefly turns his head towards you. “Think they’ll like their wedding gift?”

You direct your gaze away from the flashing scenery outside to Mat. “Absolutely. Who wouldn’t like it? Trust me when I say Bali’s been a place Elise always wanted to visit and I can’t think of a better time than now,” you assure him.

“If they don’t, it’s on you,” he says and it takes you a beat longer to realise he’s just joking so you huff out a laugh, relaxing back in the seat.

“If they don’t, they can give one of the tickets to me and I’ll happily go there.” You cast a glare out at the scenery ahead, eyes narrowing upwards towards the overcast sky. “I don’t think summer will ever come at this rate. I’m starting to hate it here.”

“Doubt Baltimore was any better,” Mat points out.

“Hardly,” you sigh. “Maybe I’ll ask them to send me to Miami instead. That’d be much better.”

Mat clears his throat quickly, shifting a little. “So, are you planning on going back to Baltimore or... Why are you back?” You catch sight of the frown forming on his face, and he quickly shakes his head as if trying to rid the hint of accusation from his voice. “That sounded wrong, sorry. But just genuinely curious. I thought a permanent move was on the table?”

“It was. Still is, but they needed me back here to wrap up a project. It was a pretty bad move on their behalf to send me there before we had that wrapped up nice and neat, bow and all, but I guess…” You trail off, shrugging a shoulder. “Guess we’ll see what’s next after that. They do want me back there, though. It just depends how long it takes for things here to fall into place.”

“Fair enough.” Another pause, another moment for him to press his lips together in silent deliberation. He did that often, and you wonder if that remains a habit still. “Was it a promotion? I forgot, sorry.”

“All good,” you assure, brushing off the apology. “Not a promotion per se, but a sidestep with just a slightly bigger paycheck. The office there is a bit smaller than the New York one so maybe there’s a higher chance of getting promoted sooner, but I don’t want to jump the gun on that yet. How did things work out for you guys this season?”

The Islanders had a good season, making the playoffs but fell just short of making the semi-finals, you knew that. After all, you hadn’t removed the Islanders game and news alerts from your phone and you put that on your laziness. You wouldn’t shy away from admitting to him you still followed the team’s progression, but you preferred not to.

“Could’ve been better but there’s lots to learn from it,” Mat tells you and there’s a trace of excitement and determination in his voice. “Next season will be even better, I guarantee.”

It’s a staple Mat response, one he always gave if he felt a game didn’t end in their favour or he didn’t do as much as he thought he should have. Sometimes, it took him some time to accept it. Usually, it came to him after pushing himself in training, after going that extra step in the gym, after re-watching highlights or coach videos and always - always, you’d assure him that it takes a team to move forward, not a single person. Always, he’d kiss you and tell you he loves you and always, you’d spend those moments wrapped up in each other’s arms, more often than not with Mat’s head resting against your chest and your leg slung around his hip.

“Plenty of time to lift that cup, Barzal,” you assure him. “Sure, the sooner the better but there’s always a right time for everything.”

“I hope so,” he agrees pensively, and lingers on that thought.

You let him to it, directing your attention back to the view outside and only now and then picking up your phone either to switch songs or browse through a few applications. A part of you feels almost obliged to try and push for conversation but you avoid doing so. The last thing you need is to make it painfully awkward for the two of you and you figure Mat could always do that himself if he feels like it. So, you let your mind wander to better things - to the upcoming rehearsal and the wedding itself, to how good Elise will look and how Tito will be so proud to watch her walk the aisle towards him. You imagine their reaction to the gift you and Mat contributed towards and smiled to yourself, knowing it was a perfect pick for them both.

You don’t think about telling Elise you and Mat had lied to them. You don’t think about passing this hurdle - the final one before you two will become strangers to one another. You don’t think about how the next time you might both see each other again, you’ll both have such different lives that for a brief moment, the surprise of it will knock the air out of your lungs before you remember: that’s him without me, and this is me without him. And you won’t be the first or the last people to break up, but a part of you is certain what the two of you had was unique and could’ve been grand. So much grander.

You become more alert to your surroundings when he starts slowing the car and you notice you’re pulling up into a gas station. As much as space allows you, you stretch out a little and Mat stops right by one of the pumps.

“Want something for the road?” You ask him, unplugging your phone and taking your card from your bag.

“Hold on, I’ll come with you,” Mat tells you and it doesn’t take long for the refill to happen before you both walk into the station’s store, beelining for the snack aisles even if you have only two hours or so until you reach your destination.

“Oh gosh, those are going to be a nightmare to clean up if you spill any in the car,” you groan quietly as he browses through the variety of Nerds flavours.

“But they’re so good though,” he shoots back and flashes a smile that is nothing short of sly when he picks up two boxes instead of one.

“Yeah, until the flavour runs out literally two seconds after you put them in your mouth. I mean, enjoy that but I’m different,” you boast and pick up a bag of sour candy.

“You just like obliterating your taste buds.”

He’s not wrong. Sour candy and spicy foods are your guilty pleasures, and have been for the longest time. You don’t try to look into how easily he recalls that because, you tell yourself, there’s nothing to look into. It’s a mere fact that anyone who knows you would easily recite.

“You’re wrong and you know it, but admitting that is difficult so it’s fine, Barzal. No hard feelings,” you throw back, snickering as you head over to the fridges for a bottle of cold water. Instinctively, you grab another for him and instinctively, he takes your candy and the water to pay for them but you still tag along with him in the queue.

“No shot. I like some spice but to the point where I literally can’t taste anything else? Hey, remember that one time when you made something… Can’t remember what it was but it was so…” He purses his lips and you laugh because yes, yes you remember it so clearly.

“So good you ended up crying over it?” You offer.

“More like, I wasn’t crying but it was so fucking spicy, Y/N, holy.”

“You survived though, didn’t you?”

“I only did because there isn’t a thing you do I don’t like,” he says and then, seems to catch himself but a second too late. “Didn’t like,” he corrects quietly but the damage is done.

You swallow uncomfortably, directing your gaze away from him but don’t hesitate to nod towards the outside. “I’ll head over to the car. I’ll text Elise to tell her we’re close.”

“Y/N—“

But you’re already taking steps towards the exit and out of ear shot, making a beeline for the car. Your heart thumps rapidly and uncomfortable in your chest and find that pressing a palm to your left side doesn’t make it any better. You know it’s an innocent mistake and there are some habits that die hard, but the way he phrased it triggered your fight or flight instinct instantaneously and despite yourself, you leaned towards the latter. You enter the car and take the time to compose yourself as much as you could. The last thing you need is to have a conversation with Mat about this because you didn’t want to have it - it shouldn’t happen for the sake of avoiding making the situation even more uncomfortable. It was an innocent slip up, no doubt, and you should’ve braced yourself to speak of Mat in present tense as opposed to past tense in the presence of others but it comes to you harder than imagined.

It’s odd how you both once knew so much about each other, everything even, and now the two of you are reduced to dancing around all that and making conscious efforts to keep your conversations as short and banal as possible.

You try and busy yourself with formulating a message to Ellie, one that’s long enough to try and make you seem as busy as possible by the time Mat returns to the car, but every line you wrote, every mini paragraph going into dull details about the trip and where you guys currently are seemed like an overthrow. So, you delete that also and simply text her an OTW just as Mat sets the sweets on the centre console and the bottles in the cup holders.

He doesn’t start the engine immediately and your mood quickly switches to frustration. Sure, you hadn’t handled it in the best way possible but trying to have a conversation about it wouldn’t make it any better. Or at least, it’s just something you didn’t want to have to think about for the remainder of the journey.

But he does just that, because that is what Mat always did: he talked with you.

“I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable,” he begins, “I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did. It’s force of habit more than anything else.”

“It’s whatever, Mat, so just move past it. I did, simple as that,” you tell him neutrally.

There’s something in that response he must have not liked because you pick up on his small huff and shortly after, the car starts and you’re both on the road again. This time, with silence between you and an atmosphere so heavy it makes you wish you weren’t speeding down an Interstate just so you could open the window and let some of the air in.

The hotel the wedding will be held at lies in front of you, sprawling and secluded and perfect for an event like this. Tito is already at the entrance and when he spots Mat’s car, he waves quickly while Mat quickly flashes the headlights before pulling into an available parking spot.

“There they are!” Tito says by way of greeting and you walk right into his outstretched arms, hugging him. “Can’t believe so much time passed since we last saw each other. What is it, two months? Three?”

“Three,” you confirm once you pull away so that Mat could hug him also. “It’s good to see you too. Where’s Elise?”

“She wanted to check on some small details and said she’ll meet up with you guys in a bit. So here I am, the welcoming committee,” Tito explained and when he and Mat stepped apart, he reached out to give you another short hug which you accepted. “So how was Baltimore? Don’t suppose you liked it all that much if you’re back so soon. This guy was happy about it,” Tito adds, nodding his head towards Mat who was already busy emptying the trunk.

You press your lips together, displaying a small smile. “Baltimore wasn’t too bad but they missed me here, apparently. Can’t complete a damn thing without my two cents so here I am for now.”

Tito frowns, but the expression is very brief. “For now? We’ll need to talk more about that later so Barzy doesn’t mope around as much as he did back then.”

You throw a quick glance towards Mat but he’s looking away towards whatever interesting spot on the ground he found, pointedly ignoring you. “I’ll have a word with him about it later,” you tell Tito lightly and together, the three of you make your way inside, towards the reception.

“I think Elise is in the room at the end of the corridor if you want to say hi,” Tito informs you and you jump at the opportunity.

You follow the corridor, making a right turn and continuing along the dimly lit hallway leading to what the signs informed you to be Conference Room 1. The door is slightly ajar and you begin picking up on the buzz of activity coming from within and soon enough, you’re face to face with a spacey room boasting an array of flowers and various arrangements tastefully decorating tables and drooping down from the ceiling. No doubt, the effect will be lovely during the night when colourful neon lights can be turned on. You spot Elise easily: she’s in the midst of the room with what is undoubtedly the scrapbook of ideas she’d been carefully putting together since Tito asked her to marry him. Outwardly, she’s all smiles and laughter but you can imagine the amount of effort and planning putting all of this together and working with planners takes.

When she spots you, she squeals in excitement, sets her book down and dashes across the room to engulf you in a hug, making you stumble a few steps back.

You burst into laughter and wrap your arms around her, squeezing her with just enough force to try and communicate how much you missed her but not so that it was uncomfortable.

“I missed you! You’re here!” She exclaims, stepping back to look at you in disbelief then hugging you again. “Oh my gosh, I’m so happy you’re here! Where’s Mat? Is he here too?”

“Of course he is,” you assure her with a laugh. “I missed you too.” You throw a curious glance towards the room over her shoulder, nodding your head towards it. “How’s it going? Need me to take over for a bit?”

“Maybe later. Definitely later. Come on.” She wraps an arm around yours and leads the way out of the room, undoubtedly back to the reception area where you left Mat and Tito. “Please tell me Baltimore is off the table. FaceTime is fine, sure, but it’s not great, you know? I need the real deal next to me. Besides, I’m not sure if you heard, but Mat wasn’t Mat without you.”

“So I heard, but forget about us!” You said in a desperate attempt to try and steer attention away from the subject. “Tell me about how everything’s going. Are you still nervous about it? Because trust me, Elise - you have absolutely nothing to be nervous of. What I’ve heard of so far and what I’ve seen will make it the absolute best day, surely.”

“Of course I’m nervous,” she tells you and to demonstrate, she holds her free hand in front of you and sure enough, there’s just a slight tremble to it. “Please lend me some of those nerves of steel of yours, Y/N, I’d do anything to have even a small percentage of them right now.”

“Pft, as if. Those are all show, trust me.”

“I’ll take even that. Oh, Mat!” She greets as soon as the two of you reach the reception area and Elise spots Mat.

Much like you and Tito, they hug and when she steps back, she immediately stands next to Tito who doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. They exchange a quick kiss and you smile at the happiness and bliss they’re clearly surrounded by.

It’s the slight pressure on your lower back that makes you jolt a little on the spot and it’s then you realise Mat had gently placed his hand there to encourage you a little closer. It takes effort on your behalf to follow his guidance but you move towards him, though you wish you could physically wince at how undoubtedly stiff the two of you must look. Or hopefully, not greatly so because neither Tito nor Elise comment on it or shoot you any funny looks as the four of you engage in brief conversation, mainly surrounding the trip here and any other guests they expect to receive today.

You don’t hang around much, though. Elise’s phone begins buzzing incessantly and she’s whisked away by the message received, but not before she fixes you with a pointed stare and demands the two of you have drinks later in the evening. Tito follows her also, even if he informs you and Mat that he feels as if he’s running around in the right places only because of Elise and the wedding planners, but you encourage him on by joking he could maybe turn a few candles on the tables this way or that for some extra oomph.

“I can’t imagine how she does it,” you admit to Mat once the elevator doors slide shut soundlessly and the car begins moving upwards to your floor.

“Pretty sure it’s not that big of a deal to her, given what all this is leading to,” Mat tells you and you detect a hint of detachment in his voice.

You don’t welcome it, of course you don’t, but you choose to not point that out to him. The last thing you want is an argument to break out the relatively okay mood the two of you have managed to hold, recent events that could be erased from memory aside. Instead, you simply stand back quietly, eyes glued on the red digital numbers aside until they come to a halt on the ninth floor where the elevator stops and you’re both left in a silent, dimly lit hallway.

Mat has the key to the apartment Elise told you the two of you would be in and just before tapping in, he hands you your own copy of it. Up until this very moment, you hadn’t thought very much of the overnight arrangements. You were pretty sure you meant to ask Elise a bit more about them at some point but both your attention and hers were pulled in different directions and here you were, stepping into your place for the next couple of nights, Mat trailing a little behind you.

You stop, arms folding across your chest and you feel Mat stop somewhere close behind you, looking into one room.

“I didn’t think this through,” you state neutrally.

Ahead of you lay only one bed.

#mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fic #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #nhl fic #*#the synopsis sucks but i'm bad at short summaries lol #i had this idea since i first joined hockeyblr and i'm happy to have finally found the motivation to write it #anyway i have a vague idea for some scenes #and there will probably be three MAYBE four parts to it

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

can we get a part 2 to caps panic attack? like an outside perspective (not caps) maybe loops or like a cub or something ?

Y'all thought I was lying when I said I'd have Alarm Bells 2: Electric Boogaloo out soon, didn't you? Please ignore the fact that it's been juuuust under four months since the original fic, and enjoy draft #4! This is the longest I've spent on one fic! SW credit goes, of course, to @lumosinlove <3

TW for mentioned panic attacks

The door closed with a dull thud. Choking silence fell over the entire room before a cold, brittle, furious voice asked, “what the hell was that?”

Arthur swallowed around the dryness of his mouth and shook his head.

“What the hell was that?” Remus repeated. His temper was rare—Arthur had never seen him truly angry, but the tic at the edge of his jaw told a different story.

“I’m sorry,” he managed as he picked his clipboard up off the floor. “To—to all of you, I’m sorry.”

“I respect you a lot, Coach,” Dumo said, cutting Remus off before he could continue. “But that was out of line. Tonight’s game was bad. We all know that, especially Cap. That doesn’t excuse putting the blame on one person or throwing things.”

“You’re right.” He swallowed again and looked around the rest of the locker room; every other player stared at the ground, avoiding his gaze. Bitterness tinged his teeth—he was acting like the coach he had always promised he wouldn’t be. “I’m disappointed in myself for tonight’s game, and I took it out on all of you. Pascal is right, that wasn’t fair. I hope you can accept my apology and forgive me for losing my temper like that.”

“We’re not the ones you need to ask, though, are we?” James said from his stall without sparing him a glance.

Arthur suppressed a wince. He had been so preoccupied with his frustration at himself that he didn’t even notice the growing tension in Sirius’ body, nor the way he began leaning away as Arthur ranted. The same mask of fear, false control, and misery had painted Sirius’ face as when his mother—god, he looked at Arthur like he looked at that horrible woman—came to forcibly trade him to the Snakes. “You all deserve an apology,” he corrected. “But you’re right.”

“Excuse me for a minute,” Remus muttered as he stood and headed toward the door. They watched him go without a word.

“How can I make this up to you?” Arthur asked.

Finn’s shoulders sagged. “Don’t do it again.”

“I won’t.” A door down the hall creaked, and he prayed Sirius wasn’t suffering alone anymore.

“Apologize to Cap,” Dumo said.

“Absolutely.”

“Don’t—” Leo faltered, then pressed his lips together. “Don’t tell us we all share blame as a collective, then make Cap take the weight. That’s a shitty thing to do.”

Arthur’s throat tightened. “It is. I never should have done that to any of you.”

A few beats of quiet passed before Kuny raised his hand; Arthur nodded to him. “Don’t yell when angry, please. Very loud. We already know when you are upset.”

“I’m sorry, Evgeni. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Same as Kuny.”

“Can you give us specifics about what we did, next time?”

“Please don’t throw your clipboard.”

“I’ll stay another hour to go through tape, if that’s what it takes.”

“Try not to interrupt us, please.”

For the next five minutes, Arthur noted down every single suggestion he heard; several were followed by murmurs of agreement. “Anyone else?” he finally asked. The boys shook their heads. “Thank you for telling me. I promise I’ll do better in the future, and—”

The knock on the door was soft, but it echoed throughout the room and sent a bolt of nervousness through Arthur’s heart. Remus poked his head in a second later. “Coach, can we borrow you for a second?”

Arthur set his clipboard down and headed into the hall without hesitation.

Sirius…if he was being honest, Sirius was a wreck. His eyes were red-rimmed and his cheeks were pink; a tissue was crumpled into little more than atoms in his fist. Still, he kept his chin up. Arthur hated the idea that Sirius thought he needed to brace himself with faux confidence.

“I’m sorry.”

Sirius’ lower lip wobbled once. “Thank you.”

“You kept them going out there even when they were ready to give up. We didn’t win, but we kept playing because of your leadership. Thank you.” He received a curt nod in response and pointedly ignored the tremor in both of Sirius’ hands. “I took my frustration out on you, which was wrong for many reasons, the least of which being that you don’t deserve to be talked to like that. Sirius, I truly am sorry for everything that just happened in there.”

“Apology accepted,” Sirius said. His voice was rough, but steady. “The guys didn’t deserve that, either.”

“I know. I apologized to them as well.”

“Good.” He sniffled once, then held his hand out for Arthur to shake. “In that case, I forgive you.”

“Thank you.”

Remus waited by the locker room door with an entirely neutral expression that would have unsettled Arthur if it didn’t melt into something soft and tired when he wrapped an arm around Sirius’ waist. “Ready?” he asked quietly.

The gentle buzz of conversation vanished as they entered again; Arthur sent them on their way with wishes for a good night’s sleep and a promise to talk more in the morning, and they trooped out in a tight group. As soon as the last of them disappeared down the hallway, he sat down in the nearest stall with a heavy sigh.

“That was impressive,” a voice remarked from the door. The bench creaked as Moody sat down next to him with a huff. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like shit.”

“Figured. Cap forgave you?”

“Thankfully.” Arthur rubbed his eyes until he saw spots. “Christ, Alastor, I sent him into a panic attack.”

“Asking what you can do to be better was a good move for all of them. That’ll serve you well in the long run.”

“I’m just grateful Loops didn’t break my kneecaps,” he laughed humorlessly. He stared down at the clipboard and the notes crammed into the margins for a long moment. “How did I fuck up that badly?”

Moody shrugged. “You’re human. You got upset. Don’t do it again. While you were in the hall, they were all saying how you didn’t seem like yourself, so I’d take that as a sign you’re doing something right. Just pay attention next time, and take some deep breaths.”

“You sound like Molly.”

A heavy hand landed on the back of his shoulder and gave him a light shake. “She’s a smart woman. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to make sure my candy jar isn’t empty again. You have a team of locusts, Weasley.”

Arthur smiled at his retreating back. “Yeah, but they’re our locusts. You know you love ‘em.”

Moody’s glare was nothing but fond.

#sirius black #arthur weasley #remus lupin #james potter #pascal dumais #leo knut #finn ohara #kuny #coops #alastor moody #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #alarm bells

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princesimp · 3 years

Text

Yan!Helen Otis/Bloody Painter x Reader

I used a prompt by @bowtied-pasta for this one! It's my first writing piece in YEARS so I'm a little rusty, but I hope you guys enjoy! Any constructive criticism or comments are welcome!

Light yandere obsessive type, I wanted to give my boy Helen a little attention cause I think he's underrated and pretty swag so here ya go, if anyone wants this one to continue I might make a pt 2 ☺️

Prompt; You didn’t think leaving your window open would be a bad idea last night. The air was cool and the sounds of your neighborhood were familiar to you, so you knew you would be able to fall asleep. You didn’t think anyone would be in your room when you woke up, but the figure in the corner proved otherwise.

You stayed silent for a while. You knew you’d had a… ‘secret admirer’, let's say, for the past few months. They left a few notes, a gift or two, ordered you a damn doordash meal one time with a note saying to “look after your delicate health”, but for some reason you hadn’t expected them to be in your fucking room. You couldn’t make out their form; they had thick layers of clothing on, and the shadows warped around them to hide most of their face. Could that be a mask? Fuck if you were gonna keep looking to find out, you had a will to live. How could they even stand wearing so much anyways? It was cool at night, sure, but it was still summer, and a heat wave was still going through. You were surprised they weren’t passed on your floor.

You went over the options you had in your head. You didn’t know what the person in your room wanted; if they were angry and out for blood, if they were just a little too infatuated with you and just wanted to see you, if they just wanted a quick fuck, you knew nothing. You didn’t know how much stronger than you they were either, though you could take an educated guess as to how they’d square up against you based on the fact they were ballsy enough to be in your house.. You really didn’t wanna piss them off, they were obviously dangerous, or at least unhinged, but they were In. Your. God. Damn. Bedroom.

Rage was slowly bleeding into terror, now. There was a pocket knife on your dresser. You thought about grabbing it. That’d be a shitty fucking decision though, you had it for opening shit and to intimidate anyone from bothering you, that didn’t mean you knew how to wield a knife in a fight. Maybe you could pretend to fall back asleep and see if they left in the morning? You were shaking like a fucking leaf, they’d call your bluff. On the verge of tears, trembling like a leaf under the covers. They definitely knew you were up, and they knew you were scared, oh god what if that's what they wanted? That’s why they’re here, to scare you, so you wouldn't find help, and they were going to kill you, weren’t they, and, and-

Stop. Now isn’t the time to panic. You did your best to slow your breathing. To not whimper. Not sniffle. To not make a single noise. You heard shifting, and a light thump against your doorframe. A light huff followed soon after, but it didn't sound annoyed; Amused, maybe? No, that wasn't right either- you didn't dwell on it for too long. Their eyes pierced into your soul, you didn’t need to dwell on that to feel it clearly. This went on for a while; you almost work yourself into a panic, manage to calm yourself, they give a (maybe it’s relieved? No, that's not right either, it sounded too relaxed, too content-) huff, rinse repeat. You slowly felt your courage come back to you when you saw it was almost dawn. Your neighbor worked early, you could scream for help if something went wrong. Why haven’t they said anything? It felt like it'd been at least an hour now. You’d think an intruder that knew you were awake would say something, anything.

“Are you the one that’s been leaving me notes..?” you asked, barely above a whisper, bracing yourself and tensing up to prepare for a violent response that never came.

“I am.”

Their voice was a bit deep, a little raspy, and you almost didn’t know what you should’ve expected. They were quite straightforward. You turned your head to face them, waiting to see if they continued.

“And the gifts?”

“The small stuffed bear and the cloud necklace, yes.”

“And that doordash order?”

“You were so stressed that week. I felt you needed a little something nicer to eat.”

You sniffled a bit. They turned their face to you. You were able to get a good look at them now. They did, in fact, have a mask on, white with black eyes and a red smile painted on. They looked... Sophisticated. Terrifying, still, they were so calm and collected, like they'd done this hundreds of times before. Like this was routine.

He tilted his head. You were terrified. He wouldn’t fool himself into thinking he didn’t know why, but he could still hope to calm you down. “My name is Helen.”

It was a nice name. A name put you at ease. Someone planning something more dangerous wouldn’t give their name out like that, would they? “Please don't hurt me, Helen.”

“I won’t, If I’m given no reason to.” Reasonable. In your head, you correctly translated that to “Do as I ask and don't scream”. That will to live firmly intact, you slowly nodded and sat up, pulling the blankets up with you both for some sense of security and because you felt like you were freezing because of the anxiety and adrenaline running through you. “What do you want?”

He dropped a bag that was on his back that you hadn’t noticed in your panic before, before he started walking towards you. He was slow, like he was approaching a hurt animal, like he didn't want to scare you, like you were a delicate prize. You scooted all the way back, your back squishing your pillows against the headboard as you flattened yourself against it. He paused, until your expression softened a little, from exhaustion or from you calming down he wasn't sure, before he approached again, sitting on the edge of the bed near you.

“You’re so delicate. Beautiful. A lovely muse. I’d just like to observe you. Create beautiful art pieces in your image, maybe show you a few works I’ve completed. Make you the perfect subject, the perfect muse.” He reached out to run his fingers through your hair, not hesitating even as you flinched.

You were confused. That didn’t sound right, there had to be a sinister meaning behind those words, and yet he said them so innocently, so politely, sugar lacing his words, like all he truly wanted was an art subject. “Is.. is that all you want?”

“For now.” He huffed again (Admiration? Is that it?) before pulling his hand away, trailing his fingertips, gloved in black leather, across your jawline, gently tipping your head up. “I can be gentle, kind, even, with you. If you do not force my hand.” You couldn’t even attempt to force yourself to pull away from him. His presence and actions had become alluring; Terrifying still, yes, but you felt yourself entranced by his calmness and by how politely he spoke to you.

He suddenly stood, retrieving his bag and starting to leave quickly through the still open window. He paused for a moment, looking back at you.

“I truly don’t wish to hurt you, Y/N. Try your best to calm yourself.”

He ducked out the window, and in the three seconds it took for you to gather your wits about you and dash to the window to see where he went, he was out of view. You closed your window and sat down right there on the floor, going over what in the everloving fuck had just gone down in your head. Jesus, that… that was a fucking rollercoaster. You brought your hand up to your jaw, tracing where he’d traced, and sighed out a shaky breath. You got up and got back into your bed, attempting to sleep to try and collect yourself.

Fuck it. You’d call out of work for the day later and say you were sick or something.

#helen otis #bloody painter #creepypasta #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta x reader #bloody painter x reader #helen otis x reader #creepypasta writing

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obscureamor · 4 years

Text

❝𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭❞

❥ sakusa kiyoomi x fem! reader

❥ t/w | nsfw, noncon, slapping, degradation

» a/n | initially started out as a thirst, then my brain went ‘slapping.’

You’re too disgusting for somebody like Komori… is what he wants to think, but truth be told Sakusa only wanted you for himself.

You always used to be close with the two cousins, but as time went on Sakusa grew colder towards you, while his feelings grew warmer... you took it the wrong way. He admired you in a messed up sense, admired the way you were so carefree and in the moment, but he hated it. He hated that part about you. In a way, Komori is the glue that holds you all together. You’re just a straggler though. You come and go as you please and Sakusa hates it.

And you can tell…

You can see it in the way he looks at you, the way his eyes analyze your every move. Just waiting, hoping you’d mess something up. When you did something wrong, it gave him a reason to talk to you. He didn’t care that it wasn’t in a positive light, that the memories you’d have of your conversations would only be negative. Sakusa hasn't had a normal conversation with you since you were kids.

He didn't expect you to come back from your trip so soon, so when Komori calls him, frantically telling him he can’t pick you up because the roads are starting to become frosted… he has to pretend it’s no big deal.

He doesn’t live that far from the train station, but having to walk back home with Sakusa in the dark isn’t anyone’s dream. You have to stay over with the way the snow is visibly picking up and from what Komori told you, he should be able to come and get you by tomorrow.

You’re bundled in a nice scarf and coat over your outfit. The walk is silent, the only sounds being the occasional ‘hurry up’s from Sakusa and you sniffling. Every breath is visible as you two walk towards his house. The way the snow is getting caught in his hair makes you smile, but you can only wonder how you look at this exact moment. You hope snot isn't dripping down your face. You're shivering but it's such a contrast to the way your body feels hot all over.

You can feel the tension in the air as you enter his home. It’s been a while since it’s only been you two. He watches as you take off your shoes, silently judging the way your hands shake or how you keep messing with your shirt.

‘Stop fidgeting,’ he wants to say but bites his tongue.

He takes off his mask watching as you walk to the kitchen to wash your hands. He follows shortly after making sure you did everything right.

“Sakusa?” you question, turning to look at him only to find him already staring. “W-Would you like to stay in the living room or—?”

“The living room.”

It’s nerve-wracking as you follow him and suddenly you can’t remember how to breathe. The hotness you were experiencing earlier has turned into icicles. It's festering, weighing you down, and you can feel your eyes watering even though nothing has happened yet. You're hit with a barrage of worry, goosebumps rising on your skin because suddenly the house feels too cold. When did you start being afraid of Sakusa? You're afraid of him. It’s something you never admitted because who could you admit that too? So when did it start? Was it when his eyes became over-analytical of you? When every word that came out of his mouth had a biting edge to them even though he didn't mean it?

You're taking deep breaths as you reluctantly take a seat on the couch, watching as he leaves to check on something before taking a seat beside you. Your eyes are darting all over the room before they settle on the window. It’s dark out and you can’t see anything with the way the snow is hitting the glass. You can feel his stare on you, so you do what you do best… try and fill the silence.

“How was your day?”

You turn to look at him, staring at him with those stupid eyes, a shaky smile on your lips as you await his answer.

“Good. And yours?”

You inhale a sharp breath. His day was only… ‘good.’ Well, you don’t know what you were expecting with someone as straightforward as Sakusa. You’re just glad he asked you about yours too.

“Today was… well, um—” your voice trembles as you feel his cold stare on you. “—kinda boring… the train ride wasn’t that long, but nothing interesting happened. I’m sad Komori isn't with us though.”

His hands clench into fists and you’re so dense that you take his silence as a signal to keep going.

“Did I ever tell you about the time Komori and I went to go eat at, like… I don’t know— it was really early.” There’s a chuckle that you try to mask before you continue, “Maybe about 3am… but! That’s not the point. He ended up getting caught between some fence and I really don’t know how.”

You’re too busy caught in your own world, reminiscing memories of your little adventures with Komori, that you don’t realize the way Sakusa is staring at you. The way his lip is curled into a scowl and his eyes are squinting in disbelief. He never knew that you two hung out alone. As far as Sakusa’s knowledge went, if Komori is there then so is he. When did you two start to see each other without him? Did you act differently when you were around Komori? Was there a whole other side to you Sakusa doesn't know about?

You’re still going.

How can one person talk about another this much?

There’s a yelp that leaves you when Sakusa pushes you to the floor, his body on top of yours. Your head feels like it's pounding as his hand slaps over your mouth. He’s relishing in the way your wide eyes are focused on him and him only.

“I’m so tired of you talking about him.”

He can hear your muffled words behind his palm, eyes frazzled and wide. Your hands are laying limp at your sides. The overwhelming feeling of dread washes over you— the icicles break in half and stab you in your gut.

“I’m better than him in every way, so pay attention to me.”

The way his eyes have no emotion behind them other than pure annoyance scares you. It was a look he gave to strangers when they touched or bumped into him, not a look he gave you. It’s silent as the wind picks up and the beating of your heart could be heard loud in your ears. His hand moves to hold your jaw, forcing your lips to pucker out. Your hands scramble to grab his wrist, pulling and tugging to let go so he squeezes harder making you cry out in pain at the way his nails start to dig into your skin. You don’t expect it when Sakusa spits in your mouth, the defining ‘ptuh’ making everything seem worse. He watches with monotonous fervor as you struggle and shake your head trying anything and everything to not swallow. It’s all futile as he watches his spit mingle with yours before finally, it goes down.

You can feel something tug at your pants before you process what he’s trying to do. He’s pulling them off, fingers then looping into the waistband of your panties before he pulls them down messily, albeit swiftly.

“Omi! ‘op!” you cry out.

The sound of his belt being worked off rings in your ears.

If there was one thing you knew about Sakusa, it’s that he liked to work smoothly and efficiently. He can’t do that with the way your legs are trying to kick at him, with the way your nails are digging into his wrist to let go of your jaw. So when his hand leaves your face you’re relieved, almost crying in relief as you go to soothe the ache, but it’s short-lived when you can hear the sound of his hand meeting your skin. The pop against your cheek and the crackle of the sting.

You finally realize that he wasn’t one of the top three aces for nothing.

“You’re just a stupid whore,” he mutters as he lines himself up with your entrance. “You have no idea how lucky you are for me to even think about fucking you.”

“Kiyoomi, please stop.”

There's anguish in your voice, but the thought is fleeting. It dissipates as if it’s snow after a sunny day. He likes the way his given name sounds coming out of your mouth too much for him to think about how you feel.

You can feel him rubbing himself along your lips and every time his cockhead catches on your entrance a whimper leaves you.

“Saku—”

When his hand meets your cheek for the second time, you feel him swiftly push in, hands settling on your hips. You throw your head back in a silent scream, back arching and chest flush against his. Your cunt is squeezing him and the groan Sakusa lets out echoes within the desolate house.

You sob out and you already know your skin is red, probably welting at the force. He hates the way your nose is leaking snot and how your disgusting tears are dirtying his floors.

“P-Please, stop, Saku—!”

There’s a ringing in your ears as he backhands you.

You don’t know what you’re doing wrong. What’s wrong? You can feel your cheek bruising. Your skin is stinging like the bad sunburn you got when Komori forgot to wake you from your nap at the beach. When your vision finally clears up as you blink away the tears… the look in Sakusa’s eyes scares you. He’s always had an apathetic look to him, but this… his eyes seem as black as the winter's night, and it’s only now that you realize— you’re stuck in a house alone with him until tomorrow.

“Kiyoomi…” you gasp. Your eyes scrunch tight and your shoulders raise as you brace yourself for another impact that doesn’t come. “Omi… I-I don’t— what did I do to you?”

You look so pathetic as you try and understand, but your small brain wouldn’t understand anything as complex as a man’s emotions.

“Omi-chan, please tell me what I did,” you sniffle, trembling hands coming up to grip onto his shoulders.

He’s reminded of when you all were younger at that nickname, reminded of when you would cling to him as you do to Komori now. You can’t save yourself no matter how much you plead and beg for him to stop.

He blinks at you once, twice, before rearing his hips back and slamming into you. There’s a choked out cry that leaves you, hands twisting his shirt as you grip onto him tighter.

“It hurts, Kiyoomi! P-Please stop!”

You’re so dry, but it’s not like it matters. Sakusa relishes in the way your pussy starts to tremble around him as it gets slicked up with every thrust. He wonders how much of a slut you really are and at the thought of Komori being the one to fuck you he slaps you again.

“You’re so dirty it makes me sick.”

His hands are pawing at your tits and it’s only seconds before he gets tired of your shirt being in the way. He shoves the piece of clothing up and you can hear Sakusa ‘tsk’ at your choice in bra color. He starts thrusting into you with such ferocity that makes your tits bounce with every thrust.

“Are you gonna cum like the dirty whore you are?”

You’re shaking your head, but you’re such a fucking liar. The way your stupid hole is drooling around him and clamping down tells him everything he needs to know. His hand leaves your hip, coming to rest on your throat.

“I’m going to cum in you. Komori won’t want a tainted whore.”

“Please no Kiyoomi! Please don’t! Please! I-I—” you’re trying to think of anything, but you only cry harder when your mind comes up blank.

He says nothing as he keeps moving, hand growing tighter around your throat. It’s not enough to choke you, just enough to tell you that he’s in control of the situation— he always has been. Sakusa gives no warnings as his breath hitches and he releases his load into you. He’s still going, not stopping until you cum. It’s just to prove his point that you really are a mindless whore.

There’s an earth-shattering sob that leaves you when you feel his seed flood into you. It’s so overwhelming that you cum, gummy walls riveting him in place as your body trembles. It’s moments later that Sakusa is left staring at you in awe for reasons unknown to him. Your pussy looks so pretty when it’s his cum that’s leaking out of it. He knows you’ve never slept with anyone, knows you’re untainted, but none of that matters now.

You can feel his eyes boring into you as you try and muffle your sobs... they’re as black as the winter’s night— void of emotion but full of plight.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere x reader #yandere haikyuu x reader #sakusa x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #request #tw noncon #tw slapping #tw degradation #nads writes haikyuu

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kingexpl0sionmurder · 4 years

Text

You’re All I Want - Shinsou Hitoshi

Author: @kingexpl0sionmurder Rating: 18+ (Smut) Words: 5,073 Pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi/F!Reader (Aged up/Pro Hero) Warnings: Oral (Male receiving), Oral (Female receiving), vaginal sex, pet names. AN: Here is my entry for this month’s BNHarem NSFW collab! Special thanks to @unbreakablekiribaku for supporting me as usual and listening to me ramble on about my favorite purple boy. Title taken from a song by Cigarettes After Sex because I am soft today. We all had the same starter for this collab, so it’s important to read that first so you understand the set up! (It’s kind of like a choose your own adventure!)

Collab Masterlist (IMPORTANT: READ THIS FIRST)

My Masterlist Buy Me a KoFi?

----

Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward, shucking off the mask onto the ground beside you. It wasn’t like they’d be able to see your face back here, or you hoped not, and the thing was itchy.

There hadn’t been much instruction on what to do, so you decided to make yourself comfortable on the pillows and wait in the near darkness, feeling a little annoyed that they’d taken your phone, even though you understood why.

You gazed through the hole, trying to see if you could make out anything on the other side. You could hear music, the slightly muffled guitar from some classic rock playing for the party guests made you giggle a bit. Blowing some random hero while listening to 80’s hair metal through a hole in the wall was not how you had been picturing spending your Saturday night, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Before you could dwell on that anymore, you heard a sharp knocking on the wall, the light coming from the hole in the wall suddenly cut off when someone stepped in front of it. You had a feeling this was your cue.

You shuffled over on your knees, grabbed a bottle of water, unscrewed the cap, took a sip, and tried to ignore how much your hands were shaking. You knew what you were doing. This wasn’t your first time sucking a cock. The situation was different, of course, but if you closed your eyes, you could just pretend it was someone else, right?

Letting your mind wander, you wet your lips when the man on the other side of the wall shoved his dick through the hole, starting with kitten licks and light sucks on the tip. You closed your eyes and thought about the object of most of your fantasies, pretending it was him sitting heavy on your tongue, bracing your hand on the wall in front of you as you used the other to grab the base of the man’s cock and pump him slowly.

Being a barista wasn’t the most exciting job, but your regular customers somehow made things seem less dull. One man in particular always had you vibrating with excitement the moment he walked through the door. He usually strolled in during the mid-morning, his purple hair defying gravity, his face holding the look of someone who didn’t get enough sleep. He did always manage a small smirk in your direction when you greeted him, already working on his preferred drink order before he could even open his mouth. Black coffee with a double shot of espresso and a blueberry muffin. He never strayed or asked for anything different.

He would pay for his order and then lean his hip against the counter on the far end, arms crossed over his chest as he kept his eyes trained on you. It made you feel hot all over, your mouth dry and your thighs clenching as he watched you work, his apparent interest in you making you feel exposed and raw. You had half a mind to grab him by his shirt and drag him over the counter so you could press your lips to his, the sexual tension that his gaze created nearly driving you mad.

But as always, you would walk over and slide him his drink and pastry bag, biting your lip and looking up at him from under your eyelashes, wishing him a good day. He would always give you another once over, and sometimes his fingers would brush yours as he took his breakfast, his deep voice rumbling in thanks. He would smirk at you again before turning and walking out of the shop, leaving you to melt into a puddle of sexually frustrated goo behind the counter.

You’d entertained the idea of writing your number on his cup, wondering if he would text you, imagining what he would say if you asked him out sometime. It was a shame you were too nervous about doing anything other than flirting over the counter, too scared even to attempt to hold a conversation with him. You’d have to resort to using your overactive imagination to your advantage for the task at hand.

With the music still blaring in the other room, you could just barely hear the man on the other side of the wall moaning as his cock twitched in your mouth, your tongue gliding over the vein on the underside while you hollowed your cheeks around him. Humming, you took him as deep as you could, feeling triumphant when you felt him shudder, thick ropes of cum shooting into your mouth.

You pulled off and spit into the nearby trash can, going back to lick the man clean, and then chugging on your water bottle. As quickly as he had appeared, he was gone, and the hole was empty once again. Sitting back, you sighed. That hadn’t been as bad as you thought it would be, though you figured it was probably because your mind was elsewhere. You just needed to keep this up for the rest of the night, and then you’d collect your giant wad of cash and be on your way.

Hours passed, men came (literally) and went, and your jaw was starting to feel sore. You had no idea how much longer you had, but you’d been putting forth your best skills while thinking about the purple-haired coffee man to pass the time.

There was a knock on the wall, so you sat up from where you were slumped against it, grabbed another water bottle, wet your mouth, and got ready to go back to work. Since your eyes had adapted to the darkness of the room, you’d been trying to get a good look at the different dicks that had been shoved through the hole as the night progressed. You’d yet to be disappointed, and men at this party were giving you unrealistic expectations for real life. The one that was in front of you now, however, was probably the nicest and one of the biggest you’d seen so far.

Suddenly feeling eager to prove to yourself that you could handle the size of it, you shuffled forward on your knees and wrapped your hand around it, stroking slowly and letting your tongue poke out to lick at the bead of precum that had already gathered at the tip. The music fading from one song and into the next in the other room allowed you to hear the groan of pleasure coming from the man, your ears perking up, and legs clenching together.

His voice was deep, just like the man in every one of your fantasies. You’d made yourself cum just thinking about that voice whispering in your ear, low and thick like honey, praising you for taking his cock so well, growling and moaning about how good your pussy felt around him. You let your eyes close, humming and focusing all your efforts into giving this man the best blow job of his life, picturing purple hair and a sharp jawline, smirking lips caught between straight teeth, bulging biceps and long fingers. You wished you could feel his fingers in your hair as you took him as deep as you could, relaxing your throat and rolling your tongue around his length, practically choking around him as tears gathered in your eyes.

You swore you heard that voice again, a drawn-out curse coming from the other side of the wall as his cock twitched in your mouth and he came, and for the first time all night, you swallowed all he had to give you, too caught up in the moment to worry about spitting it in the trash.

Before you knew what was happening, he was gone, not even letting you clean him up. You fell back, gasping for air and trying to figure out what happened. Your cunt was throbbing, and your chest was heaving as you reached blindly for the water bottle beside you. Did you do something wrong? He seemed to have been enjoying himself, but it was hard to tell with the wall between you.

You didn’t have much time to dwell on it, though, because there was a knock from the door you’d entered the room from, and suddenly the girl who had led you back here was standing there, smiling at you. “Are you doing okay?”

Nodding, you stood up. “Yeah, am I done?”

She crossed her arms, leaning against the door frame. “That depends. Do you want to make a little extra?”

Eyebrows furrowed, you frowned. “What? How?”

“Someone is requesting you for some special one on one time if you’re interested. It would involve more than just a blow job, so if you’re okay with that, I can take you to the bathroom and then to the room he’s rented for you.”

Your eyes widened, mouth suddenly dry. “Someone requested me?”

Chuckling, she shot you a grin. “You impressed him. He was insistent about it being you, so you must have given him the best head of his life or something.”

Biting your lip, you deliberated. You had promised yourself not to get too involved with this world. It was supposed to be quick and easy money.

“If it helps, it was the last guy you were just with, like not even 10 minutes ago.”

The man with the deep voice and giant cock. Well, fuck.

“I...yeah. Okay.”

“Great!” She clapped her hands. “Grab your mask and follow me. I’ll take you to the bathroom so you can brush your teeth, then I’ll bring you to the private room.”

You nodded, picking up the mask and putting it back on your face, concealing your identity again. You followed her from the room and to a bathroom, a sealed toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste on the sink. You used the bathroom quickly, brushing your teeth and checking your eyeliner, before slipping the mask back down over your eyes and stepping back into the hallway.

She led you into an elevator and then down a hallway, stopping in front of a closed door before turning to you. “You’re not obligated to do anything you don’t want to do. There are condoms, and there is lube in the top drawer of the table next to the bed. If you feel unsafe or uncomfortable for any reason, there will be a guard outside the door to keep watch, and you can get their attention if you need help, just in case.”

Suddenly nervous, you nodded again.

“I know this guy, though, and he’s a good man. You don’t have anything to worry about. When you’re done, the guard will bring you back downstairs so you can collect your pay and your things, okay?” She offered you a calming smile. “Have fun!”

You didn’t say anything, offering her a weak smile in return before turning your attention to the door. Your palms were sweaty as you reached out to grasp the handle, pushing it open. Taking a deep breath, you walked inside and closed it behind you.

When your eyes met with the amethyst ones on the other side of the room, your heart stopped.

“Uh, hi.” He stepped forward, his hands in his pockets. You took in the way he bit down on his bottom lip, eyes traveling down over the black button-up shirt he was wearing, the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, the glint of the watch on his wrist in the table lamp light spilling across the hotel room.

It was him, the object of your every desire, and he was standing there looking at you nervously, his hair sticking up attractively as usual.

“Black coffee, double shot espresso, blueberry muffin.” You said dumbly, your mouth moving before your brain could process what you were saying.

“I...what? How do you know my breakfast order?” His eyebrows furrowed, confused.

Pulling off your mask, you shook out your hair and stared at him, not sure what else to say. You felt completely out of your depth, and it was taking everything in you not to throw yourself forward and kiss him.

“Holy shit.” Letting out a breath, he started moving toward you again. “It’s you.”

When he stopped moving, he was so close that you had to tilt your head back to look up at him. You couldn’t believe your luck. Remembering what the girl had told you, you shivered. When you’d heard that low voice through the wall, you’d thought of him, but to know that it actually was him was a whole different thing. “I didn’t know you were a hero.”

Your eyes slid closed when you felt him touch the side of your face and push back a piece of your hair, his fingers leaving a warm trail in their wake. “Yeah, underground, but yeah.” Clearing his throat, he continued. “I didn’t know you did-”

“I don’t!” Your eyes flew open in alarm. “I mean, not usually. Just needed some extra money to get caught up on student loans…” You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment, your gaze falling to the floor. “This is my first time doing something like this.”

“Me too.” His fingers on your chin lifted your face to look back up at him. “I didn’t want it to be like this...I wanted to ask you out properly.”

Gazing up at him in disbelief, you stuttered. “I...you did?”

It was his turn to blush. “Yeah, I was just trying to figure out what to say.” His hand dropped to curl around your hip. “But now we’re here…”

Feeling bold, knowing he wanted you just as much as you wanted him, you let your hands rest on his chest, the feeling of solid muscle beneath it, causing you to shiver. “Yeah, we are. So what do we do now?”

“I can think of a few things.” The smirk that made your knees weak was back on his face. “Like this, maybe.”

Your breath caught when he leaned forward, your eyes closing when his lips met yours. It was a hesitant press at first, sweet and soft, making your heartbeat quicken with anticipation. Breathing deeply through your nose, you let your fingers tangle in his lavender locks, pushing yourself closer and kissing him harder. You’d wanted this for so long, and you weren’t going to let this moment go to waste.

He hummed lowly, both hands on your waist holding you close to him, his tongue slipping out to trace along your lips. You parted them, allowing him entrance and shivering when he licked into your mouth. Sighing, you arched into him, feeling his palms slide down to grab your ass.

Pulling back, the both of you panted, your eyes sliding open to gaze up at him. Swallowing thickly, you licked your lips. “This is all happening so fast.” You said slowly. “I don’t even know your name.”

Smirking, he bent slightly, his hands slipping behind your thighs and lifting you quickly. “It’s Shinsou.” He turned and walked towards the bed, dropping you unceremoniously onto the mattress. “And yours is Y/N, right? I remember it from your nametag.”

You nodded, half distracted watching him pull your skirt down your legs, his fingers toying with the waistband of your panties. Sitting up, you began unbuttoning his shirt, sighing when you felt his lips on your neck.

“I know this is sudden, but you don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.” He mumbled against your skin. “And knowing that you were the one who sucked my cock through that wall makes me regret not doing something sooner.”

“I was pretending it was you.” Finishing with the buttons, you untucked the shirt from his pants and worked on pulling it down his arms. “I heard you moan, and I thought it sounded like you, and I just let my mind wander a little…”

Chuckling, he pulled back, shrugging his shirt off and lifting his undershirt over his head. Your hands went to his chest immediately, tracing lines over the hard muscles and up over his shoulders.

“Do you think about me often?”

Blushing, you sat back, pulling your top over your head. “More often than I’d like to admit.”

He reached behind you, his fingers fumbling with the clasp of your bra. “It sounds like we’ve been wasting too much time. We could have been doing this a long time ago.” He tossed the offending garment somewhere behind him, looming over you when you laid back. “Guess I should make up for it now, huh?”

Before you could answer, he was kissing you again, one hand wandering down your side, his other arm bent and keeping him from crushing you under his weight. His mouth moved to kiss along your jaw and down your neck, your chest heaving as he nibbled on your clavicle, his warm tongue laving at your skin.

Your breath hitched as he moved lower, trailing kisses over your breast, his mouth latching around your nipple and sucking at it, teeth scraping over the hardening bud. “Shinsou…” You trailed off, breathless and panting, your eyes fluttering shut as your hands found his hair, digits curling into his purple locks and nails scratching at his scalp.

He must have enjoyed the feeling, a low moan rumbling from his chest as he switched to your other breast, giving it the same attention. His fingers dug into your hip, keeping you still as you attempted to wiggle in his hold, needing some kind of friction for the throbbing between your thighs.

“Impatient, are we?” He asked lowly, kissing down your stomach and sliding down the bed some more. “Don’t worry, kitten. I’m going to take care of you.”

You whimpered at the nickname, closing your eyes when you felt his fingers slide under the elastic around your waist, tugging your panties down your legs. Warm breath ghosted over your inner thighs when he spread your legs to rest between them, his thumbs drawing comforting circles across your flesh.

“You gave me the best blow job of my life. It only seems fair for me to return the favor.” His thumbs moved to spread you open, his tongue sliding along your slit without warning.

Your hips left the bed, your head rolling as your back arched, your body unprepared. “Shinsou! Fuck!” His hands held you down as he descended on you, tongue laving greedily at your cunt, slurping up your juices and sucking on your clit with abandon.

“God, you were so wet already, how turned on were you? You must have been thinking about me pretty hard down there in that little room.” A kiss was pressed to your thigh as he caught his breath. “Why don’t you tell me what you were imagining, hmm?”

Opening your mouth to reply, all you could manage was a low moan when he dove back in, his tongue circling your entrance before traveling back up to your clit again.

“Answer me, kitten.”

Sucking in a breath, the vibrations from his voice shooting straight through you, making it hard to think, you tried to answer again. “Thought about you bending me over the counter in the coffee shop…”

He hummed, and your eyes rolled back, body tensing when he let one of his hands move down lower, one finger sliding inside you. “I’ve thought about that too.”

“Shinsou, please. I want you to fuck me.” You felt pathetic, practically begging him, months of pent up longing for the man between your thighs finally spilling forth as he sucked on your clit and stretched you with a second finger. “I want you to fill me up.”

Groaning, you felt his teeth graze against you, his fingers curling, the squelching sound filling the room a testament to how wet you were as he pressed against your g spot, adding another digit. “Fuck, you want it that badly?”

You shivered, your legs aching, and your toes curling. You couldn’t even form a sentence if you wanted to, the coil in your belly tightening with every caress of his tongue along your pussy. The feeling of his long, calloused fingers stroking along your inner walls and the vibrations of his moans when you tensed around them made it hard to focus. You barely registered his hips moving against the bed in time with the thrust of his fingers, obviously just as into it as you were.

“Come for me, kitten, and I’ll give you what you want.” He moaned, the tip of his tongue flicking quickly over your clit again.

The tone of his voice, rough and full of lust, was enough to push you over the edge. You came with a cry, head thrown back against the pillows, vision whiting out at the intensity of your orgasm.

Shinsou groaned as he coaxed you through your release, pulling back only when he felt you go boneless beneath him. You gazed at him through half-lidded eyes, trying to pull air into your lungs, watching as he sat back and wiped his mouth on his arm. “You okay, kitten?”

You managed to nod, watching as he shuffled off the bed and over to the table beside it, opening the top drawer and pulling a condom out. Sitting up on your elbows, you licked your lips, anticipating what was about to happen. Everything was moving quickly, but you’d been dreaming about sharing these intimate moments with him for so long that you couldn’t be bothered with worrying about what would happen tomorrow.

He made quick work of his belt, his pants falling around his narrow waist as he unbuttoned them, revealing purple boxers that matched his hair. He caught you watching, raising his eyebrow as he toyed with the elastic band on his boxer briefs. “See something you like?”

Teasing him, you grinned. “I told you, I've been thinking about this for a while.” You couldn’t help ogling him. You would have never guessed his body would look this way beneath the oversized t-shirts he usually wore when he came into your job every morning.

He laughed at your blatant staring, biting his lip. “You did mention that.” He shook his hips to tease you as he pulled down his pants and boxers, making you giggle. You liked how he could make you feel comfortable, and insanely turned on at the same time.

Crawling up the bed, he settled in between your legs on his knees, his large hand moving to stroke his cock. He picked up the condom, ripped the foil packet, and rolled it onto his length. He gripped your thighs, leaning forward to press his forehead against yours. “You ready?”

Tilting your chin up, you kissed him, your fingers tangling in his hair. You could taste yourself on his lips, feel his heart beating when you let your other hand rest against his chest. You were more than ready to let this man wreck you. “I’m ready.”

He dropped his head to your shoulder as he positioned himself and pushed his hips forward, groaning as he entered you. The stretch was just on the edge of painful, and you tried to stifle your cry as you tucked your face into the space between his neck and shoulder, your nails digging into the skin of his back as you arched up off the mattress.

“Fuck…”He breathed, pulling out and pushing back in further. “You’re so tight.”

Uncurling to lay back against the pillows, your hands moved to wrap around his biceps, his arms caging you in on either side as he moved in and out of you slowly, giving you time to adjust to his size. You weren’t sure you’d ever been with someone as big as he was, and as the burning sensation of the stretch slowly turned to pleasure, you felt like you’d been missing out.

He finally paused when he was fully seated inside you, his lips pressing against the skin of your shoulder, and then up your neck and jaw until he was able to look into your eyes. You briefly thought about how bizarre the entire situation was, how you’d been pining after this guy you were too afraid to speak to, and now he was balls deep inside you in a lavish hotel room where he was paying to fuck you. At least he had confessed he was actually interested in you outside of all of this, so maybe that meant you had a shot at something with him. You didn’t really want to think about the money portion of it all because that was too much to unpack at that very moment, deciding instead to focus on how he was looking at you reverently, and he was not moving. “Shinsou, you gotta move, please. I’m-”

Lips curling up into a smirk, he kissed you. “I’ve got you, kitten, don’t worry.” His arm moved from your side, his hand curling around your thigh and lifted your leg slightly, and then he was pulling back and slamming his hips forward.

Your hips rose off the bed to meet him, pleasure coursing through you as he started a brutal pace, each thrust making your toes curl and your eyes roll back. You managed to wrap your legs around his waist, urging him closer as he leaned over and grabbed the ornate headboard of the bed above you, using it for leverage as he rammed his cock into you over and over again.

“God, fuck, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to-” He broke off, grunting when you clenched around him. “You’re so wet for me, kitten. I could fuck you like this all night. Would you like that?”

At that moment, it sounded like the single greatest idea you’d ever heard. “Shinsou, don’t stop!”

Growling, he picked up the pace, letting go of the headboard to grab your legs, folding them between your bodies. The angle let him slide in deeper, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. You felt so full, the scent of his cologne surrounding you, the sound of his low moans and panting breaths echoing through the room. You keened, your fingers white-knuckling the sheets beside you, concentrating on the building pressure in your lower belly.

Every muscle in your legs was screaming, pleading gibberish spilling from your lips as you begged him to keep going, climbing higher and higher as he fucked you into the mattress. He sat back on his knees, positioning your legs over his shoulders and leaning forward again, kissing you to quiet your babbling. You couldn’t get enough of the taste, your fingers weaving through his drooping hair, delirious and consumed by him at that moment. He trailed his lips down to your chest, mouth closing around your nipple and sucking hard, scraping it with his teeth and soothing with his tongue. You barely registered his hand moving, his deft fingers finding your clit in between your sweat-slicked bodies, rubbing harsh circles over it. “Come on, kitten. I want to feel you come apart around me.”

Warm breath over your sensitive chest had you mewling, your back arching, your body pulled taught and finally snapping, cries of his name repeated like a prayer as you fell over the edge, drowning in ecstasy.

The moan that left him was just short of animalistic as he moved back, hips slamming against yours again and again as he chased his high, your pussy fluttering around him, gripping him and sucking him back in every time he drew back. “So fucking good for me, kitten.”

His rhythm became uneven, his grip on you loosening, hips slowing as he came. You watched the way his brow creased, his abs tightening as he unloaded into the condom. You found yourself half wishing he was cumming inside you, so fucked out that rational thought was off the table. He ground against you one last time until he was slumping forward, your legs falling off his shoulders and to the side.

You hummed, petting his hair back from his forehead. You felt him smile against your skin, his nose brushing your cheek as he tried to catch his breath.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” You cleared your throat, your voice raw. “I’m good. Really good.”

Chuckling, he kissed your cheek, huffing as he lifted himself off of you. He pulled off the condom and tied it before shuffling off the bed and pulling on his boxers, wandering off in the direction of what you assumed was the bathroom.

You took that moment to assess how weak your legs felt, cursing your choice of footwear, and wondering how you were going to walk. Shinsou appeared again a moment later, a wet washcloth in his hand. You let him clean you up, blushing but appreciating his kindness.

When he was satisfied, you took a deep breath and sat up, moving slowly as you stood up on shaky legs, gathering your clothes and redressing yourself. You suddenly felt awkward, not sure what to say or do. Did he want to see you again?

“Do you have work tomorrow?” He asked, breaking the awkward silence.

Blinking up at him, you shook your head. “I’m off on the weekends. I’ll be in on Monday morning.”

Scratching the back of his neck nervously, he nodded. “I...good. Okay. I’ll see you then, right?”

“Unless you’re going to go somewhere else for your coffee, then yes, you’ll see me.” You frowned. “Did you not want to-”

“No! Oh god, I’m making a mess of things, aren’t I? I just mean I was worried you wouldn’t want me to come-” He groaned. “I feel like I’m making this more awkward than it needs to be.”

“You said it, not me.” You teased. “I’ll see you Monday, and we can talk then, okay?”

“I’d ask for your number, but neither of us has our phone.” He stepped forward, tipping your chin so you could gaze up at him. His lips pressing against yours sent a shiver down your spine again. “I’ll see you Monday.”

You barely remembered leaving the room or following the guard down to where your things were locked up, or the amount of the check you received before you left.

All that was on your mind were sleepy amethyst eyes and lips curled into a knowing smirk, soft smiles, and urgent kisses, the way his voice sounded when he called you kitten.

#shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsou hitoshi smut #shinso hitoshi x reader #shinso hitoshi smut #hitoshi shinsou x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #hitoshi shinsou #shinsou hitoshi #shinso hitoshi #hitoshi shinso #hitoshi shinsou smut #hitoshi shinso smut #bnharem collab #kingexpl0sionmurder writes

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whenisitenoughtrees · 4 years

Note

If you’re still doing these, 33 with Moceit? ALL the fluff with perhaps a little dash of angst?

@thatoneloudowl i was gonna do a dash of angst but then i knocked over the angst jar and spilled a couple cups so. there is a little more than a dash. but the ending! is fluffy! don’t worry!!

for 33. Sometimes, I just want to cuddle, okay? Is that so bad?

Title: like a puzzle (we fit)

Word Count: 3,328

Content Warnings: mention of disordered eating, self-isolation as a form of self-harm

(fic masterpost w/ ao3 links)

These days, Patton wanders the mindscape like a ghost. Frankly, Janus is beginning to find it annoying.

Or at least, he would, if the sight didn’t make his heart clench, didn’t make his stomach turn, didn’t make some unidentifiable emotion rise up within him, threatening to spill out before he even lets himself acknowledge it. And he’s not acknowledging it, if only because doing so while Thomas’ mental health is in such a precarious position is a risk he’s not willing to take. But that’s not enough to stop him from watching Patton out of the corner of his eye, not enough to stop him from tracking his movements, from taking in the way he seems—

Well. Bereft seems like a good way to put it. Bereft of his usual spark, his usual joy. And bereft in another way, too, because as the time passes, Janus realizes something else: Patton is isolating himself.

It’s fairly obvious, at least to him, so he’s surprised that none of the others have picked up on it— or perhaps they have, and they’re ignoring it, but that seems like a level of maliciousness that he doesn’t think that the so-called “light” sides are capable of. Because Patton is suffering, and he can’t imagine that they would let him go on in this way if they knew, even if they are angry with him. So, they’re not cruel, just oblivious, and if the situation were any different, Janus might laugh about the fact that he of all sides is the only one to recognize that something is wrong.

But this is no laughing matter.

Patton’s face is pale and drawn, his eyes watery, his smiles wan and fake. He’s grown thinner, too, if Janus isn’t mistaken, and that is yet another cause for concern; Patton is not the best cook in the world, but that has never stopped him from trying. The fact that he’s stopped cooking, perhaps even stopped eating, is worrisome, and the worst thing about all of this is that Janus isn’t entirely sure what to do about it.

He knows self-care intimately, all of its practices, all of its uses. It’s his job, and in theory, getting Patton to take better care of himself should be easy for him. But Patton has always been particular about deserving things, and Janus doesn’t know that he’s reached the level of relationship that would allow him to persuade Patton that he doesn’t deserve to be treating himself this way. He’s not sure that he’s could convince him of it outright, and while he thinks that manipulating him to come to that point of view might be doable, the idea leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

Already, his judgment is being clouded by sentiment. He wishes that he were more upset about it than he is.

But whether he knows what to do or not, something needs to happen, and an opportunity arrives soon enough. He’s lounging in the common room— and the fact that he has the freedom to do that now is still nothing short of spectacular, frankly, not that he would ever admit as much out loud— when Patton comes down the stairs, bleary-eyed, and goes to fetch a glass of water from the kitchen. He watches, curious, as Patton passes him with barely a glance.

It is instinct to follow him. Patton doesn’t seem to notice his presence, so he leans against the doorframe, observing quietly as Patton fumbles a glass from the cabinet, almost dropping it, and sticks it under the tap to fill with water. He considers saying something when Patton gulps down half of it in one go, and again when Patton sighs, bracing himself against the counter. But it feels like an intrusion, somehow, and the words won’t come.

So, he doesn’t say anything, preparing himself to jump in the moment that Patton turns and sees him.

Patton turns and sees him.

“Hello, Pa—”

But Patton flinches violently, and Janus is cut off by the sound of glass shattering on the floor. All thoughts of having a cool, measured conversation fly out the window.

“Shit,” he says, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to— here, just let me—”

He steps forward, choreographing his movement so Patton can avoid him if he wants, but Patton is staring at the ground, his eyes wide as they flit across the glass now scattered on the tile. He doesn’t react as Janus takes his elbow, guiding him away from the glass shards, and he doesn’t react when Janus snaps his fingers, getting rid of the mess entirely.

Janus’ concern grows.

“Patton?” he asks. “Patton, are you with me?”

Slowly, Patton blinks. His gaze comes into focus, and then he smiles, a smile so clearly plastered on, so clearly fake that it sits like a physical weight in Janus’ gut.

“Janus!” he chirps. “Hi! Sorry about that, I’m not sure what came over me. Guess I’ve got a real case of butter fingers today.” He waves his hand, holding a Butterfingers bar between his fingers, and Janus frowns. He knows a deflection when he sees one, though he’s less certain that Patton realizes that he’s doing it in the first place. By now, he wouldn’t be surprised if it’s an ingrained instinct.

Look away, Patton is saying. Wasn’t that a funny joke? Pay attention to the joke, not to me. I’m alright.

“I should be the one apologizing,” he says. “I startled you.”

Patton laughs. “That’s alright,” he says. “Really, I guess I just wasn’t paying enough attention. Was there something that you needed?”

He maintains a blank face with an effort. “Do I need to have a reason to spend time with you?” he asks, and there is the first crack: a moment of bewilderment passing across Patton’s face, as if he can’t possibly believe that someone would want to be around him for the sake of his company. It’s a familiar look, a bitter one, one he would never admit aloud to having seen in his own mirror.

“Of course, I would love to talk to you,” he continues. “But only if you’re amenable.”

Patton squints at him, and this, too, is familiar ground, as Patton tries to figure out whether he’s sincere or not. He waits patiently as Patton’s expression folds into something just a little more genuine, tinged with relief.

“Sure,” he says. “I’d love to talk for a little while.”

Something sour coats Janus’ tongue; a half-truth, then, though which half, he can’t tell. Patton is almost as practiced in lying as he is, though his are so often self-directed. But for now, he will take the admission at face value, and as he walks over to the couch, Patton follows, settling on the cushions next to him, and that is what is important.

“In all honesty, I wanted to know how you were doing,” he says, keeping his voice as gentle and sincere as he possibly can. It doesn’t come naturally to him, but somehow, it is easier when it is Patton. Easier to open up, easier to express his true concerns. Easier to allow himself to care, and he wishes he didn’t have to read into that, but he knows very well what it means, even if he’s shelving it to be considered at a later date. “It’s been some time now since the wedding, but I couldn’t help but notice that you haven’t been spending much time around the others lately.”

The wince is so quick that Janus half-wonders if he imagined it. But no— it was masked quickly, but it was there.

“Well, you know how it is,” Patton says. “Everyone’s so busy lately, me included! You know, with Nico and all.”

Janus feels his chest fill with warmth at the mere mention of the name, though he keeps his infatuation off his face as well as he can. There is not a single side in the mindscape that isn’t taken with Nico, completely and utterly, and Janus is unashamed to count himself among their number. Nico is who Thomas wants at the moment, after all, and Janus is always eager to let Thomas act on his wants.

But bringing him up now is nothing more than another distraction, one that he sees through immediately.

“I don’t know at all,” he agrees, “But, Patton, I can’t help but feel as though this is something else.” He flicks through a couple of options in his mind, wondering what will get through to him the best. After a moment of consideration, he reaches out and places a hand on Patton’s arm. It’s awkward; casual physical contact is not something he’s particularly practiced in. But Patton doesn’t seem to mind it, or at least, he doesn’t move away, though he appears a bit startled. “You’ve moved past busy into outright avoidance.”

Patton’s jaw works. “I’m not avoiding—”

“Patton.”

Patton stops and looks at him for a moment. And then, he slumps in on himself, like a marionette with its strings cut. “Am I that obvious?” he asks, and he sounds so miserable that for a moment, Janus wants nothing more than to wrap him up in his arms and hold him until his pain goes away. An unusual instinct for him, but perhaps it makes sense; Patton has always liked hugs, as far as he knows, so it’s not unreasonable that his first thought would be to offer one.

His drive for self-preservation goes far beyond preserving himself, after all.

“Not really,” he says, “but you know how I’m so terribly unobservant.” He pauses, and then goes on, more quietly. “I won’t force you to talk to me if you would rather not. But we’ve had the conversation about repression before. Multiple times, if I remember correctly.”

Patton laughs, but there’s no warmth in it. Just something sad, self-deprecating.

“No, no, you’re right,” he says. “And I know it’s not good, I just—”

He waits, and Patton draws in a breath.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says, “about my mistakes a lot, lately. And I— I understand that it’s okay that I make them, and that I can’t be perfect, and as long as I try my best to fix things and do better then it’s alright, but it’s just that— Roman’s been so happy lately, you know? Because he finally got something that he wanted. And it just sort of hit me that I’ve been keeping him from having that for so long. He hasn’t been happy in so long, and I’m not even sure that anyone’s been happy in so long, and it’s all my fault because I’ve been saying that it’s wrong to want things for yourself, but it’s not really wrong at all and I know that now, but I just don’t know how to—”

“Patton,” Janus says, squeezing his arm, “please, breathe.”

Patton stops, looking at him, which isn’t exactly what he meant him to do, but he’s breathing, at least.

“Is this why you’ve been avoiding them?” he asks. “Because you’ve been worrying about this?”

Patton glances down, his hands twisting into the hem of his shirt.

“I just don’t want to hurt them again,” he says, voice small, and Janus is surprised at his own flash of anger. Who it’s directed at, he can’t say. The others, perhaps, for letting it get this bad. Himself, for not seeing it sooner.

“I understand that,” he says, “but even if you weren’t letting yourself magnify your missteps, which you are, by the way, you can’t possibly believe that they’d want you to hurt yourself instead.”

Patton jerks. “I’m not—”

“Oh, you’re not?” He breathes out sharply through his nose, trying to regain some of his composure. If this were any other side, he would feel comfortable in berating them from dawn to dusk, but Patton is too fragile for that right now. Even he can recognize as much. “Patton,” he says, softer, but firm, “when was the last time you ate?”

Patton’s brow furrows. “This morning,” he answers, “or— no. Wait. It had to have been— no, that’s not it either.” The corners of his eyes pinch as he tries to work through it, and while Janus has to admit that it is some relief to know that he hasn’t been denying himself food on purpose, the fact that the question is a difficult one at all is still very concerning.

“I—” Patton stops, stutters. “I guess I haven’t been very hungry lately. I didn’t think it had been that long—”

“It’s alright,” Janus interrupts, even though it isn’t, because there is an edge of panic beginning to creep into Patton’s voice, and he would like to avoid that if he can. “Well, we can work on it, at any rate.”

Patton’s hands are trembling. He pauses, considering for a moment, and then reaches out to take them in his. The contact is startling, despite the fact that he initiated it, and judging from the way Patton stills, the sentiment is shared. It is almost enough to make him pull away again, writing the venture off as a bad idea, but he doesn’t want to give Patton the wrong impression, doesn’t want him to assume that he stopped for any reason other than his own hangups about touch.

“That is,” he says, “if you’ll allow me to help. I can’t force you into anything. Ultimately, you’re your own person. Or rather, your own part of a whole person. But that means that the decision is up to you.”

Patton doesn’t reply. He’s staring at where their hands are connected, his face twisted into an expression that Janus can’t even begin to describe, and a horrible suspicion enters his mind.

Self-isolation can be a form of self-harm, too, and Patton has always been so tactile by nature.

“How long has it been since you last touched someone?” he asks, and Patton startles, yanking his hands out of Janus’ grip like he’s been burned. Janus tries not to let it sting.

“That’s not—” he says. “That’s not a big deal. I can— I don’t have to— and I didn’t want to bother anybody, so I—”

“Right, because asking people for a bit of physical contact is such a bother,” he says, his voice veering sharper than he intends.

“Isn’t it?” Patton asks, and Janus rears back at his tone. “Everyone’s dealing with their own things right now, so why should they have to help me on top of that? And besides, I’m clingy, and nobody—”

“Who told you that?”

Generally, he refrains from trying to murder his fellow sides, if only on the principal that they’re all needed for Thomas to function properly, but if it turns out that one of them has caused this, that one of them has called Patton clingy, made him think that seeking out affection when he needs it is somehow wrong, or a burden on others, then he refuses to be help responsible for his actions.

“No one had to tell me that,” Patton says. “But it’s true, isn’t it? I’m too much, and I’ve been trying to be better about that too, but it’s just—”

No.

No, no, no.

“No,” he says. “It’s not true. You’re not too much, not when it comes to things like this, and anyone who has ever told you otherwise is wrong. No—” He raises a hand when Patton goes to cut him off, though he doesn’t actually exercise his silencing ability. Repressing Patton now would be the exact opposite of helpful. “And that includes yourself.” He reaches out and takes Patton’s hands again, holding on tight. He can feel how tense Patton is, how every muscle in his body has stiffened.

“Please,” Janus says. “Tell me what you want.”

Patton’s eyes well up with tears. His lips quiver. The silence stretches on.

And finally:

“I— sometimes, I just want to cuddle, okay? Is that so bad?” It’s a whimper, a plea, and really, Janus is absolutely going to kill each and every last inhabitant of the mindscape for neglecting Patton like this, for allowing him to believe that something so simple as cuddling him would be a chore, would be too much. He’s going to kill them, but later, because here and now, Patton needs him more than he needs any acts of violence, no matter how well-deserved.

“Of course it’s not,” he says, and hopes that the sincerity comes through, hopes that Patton doesn’t assume he’s lying. “Come here.”

And even as he draws Patton closer, he begins to panic. He has never done this before, never been asked to do this; generally, the others have always assumed that he likes his space, and usually, that’s true enough that he’s never bothered to correct the notion. It’s had the added benefit of keeping Remus at arm’s length when he’s difficult to handle, but he would be lying— ha— if he said that he’d never considered the drawbacks before now, never let himself wonder what it would be like to have someone else so close to him.

He’s never cuddled. Never been cuddled, never cuddled someone else. So really, he is possibly the absolute worst side for Patton to be stuck with right now.

But he’s what Patton’s got, so he tugs Patton up against his chest, wrapping his arms around him. Patton makes a noise, something between a gasp and a whine, but it only takes a second for him to melt into the touch, all of his weight landing firmly against Janus’ body as he goes limp as a ragdoll.

It’s an awkward position. He doesn’t know anything about cuddling, but he’s fairly certain that it’s supposed to be more comfortable than this.

He wonders if the fact that he feels like his skin is on fire is typical, or if that’s just him. A consideration for later, maybe, though his heart is beating almost too fast to ignore.

“Here,” he says, “let’s—”

He pulls back, heart panging at Patton’s soft whimper, but he settles himself on the couch, a sprawling position halfway between sitting and lying down. He beckons, then, and Patton wastes no time before lurching forward, draping himself along Janus’ body, and this— this feels right, somehow, their limbs slotting into all the right places, curving against each other, and Janus places his hands on Patton’s back to keep him in place. Not that he needs to; Patton doesn’t seem to want to go anywhere.

Patton tucks his face underneath his chin, resting against the hollow between his neck and collarbone. Janus has to suppress a whimper of his own. He’s never been touched there. Not ever.

He feels himself melting into Patton just as much as Patton is melting into him. It’s new, and strange, and a bit terrifying, but he doesn’t want it to stop.

Patton lets out a sigh, long and low. “‘M sorry I was being dumb,” he murmurs, words barely intelligible.

“It’s not dumb to be scared, or to have self-doubt,” he replies, though it’s a struggle to make himself coherent. His brain feels mushy, his thought processes slow, like wading through knee-deep water. “You’re wrong, of course, but it’s not dumb.” He pauses. “And it’s definitely not dumb to want someone to take care of you.”

“‘M glad you’re here,” Patton mumbles. “I’m glad it’s you. Thank you, Janus.”

Something in his chest bursts, warm and brilliant, and he doesn’t think it’s the contact.

“Of course,” he says, fighting to speak past a mouth that has gone very dry. “Anytime.”

Patton shifts, snuggling closer, and he wonders if Patton realizes just how much he means it. Because he does, perhaps more than he has ever meant anything else.

He’s not ready to say it, yet, though. Not yet ready to make it known, to open himself up to that. So, for the moment, he holds Patton against him, and lets him rest. Safe, warm, and though unspoken, loved.

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#sanders sides #ts sides #moceit #janus sanders #ts janus #patton sanders #ts patton #my fic #long post #cat does prompts #they're soft your honor

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exquisitley-obsessed · 3 years

Text

Fiancés, Firebirds, Foxes and Fawns: 12

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: A few weeks after Briallyn’s attempt at uniting with Koschei, Lucien opens the door of Lockhart Manor to find Elain, cold from the rain and holding a note from the High Lady of the Night Court demanding her to assist Lucien in building alliances with the human councils. Forced to work together by their exhausted High Lord and Lady, Elain is able to convince anyone to do anything, while Lucien has the acquaintances to go anywhere he likes. Together, they attempt to unite the fae and mortal lands and unravel the deal made between Koschei and Vassa, while Lucien remains haunted by his own promise to Elain’s father. ELUCIEN, POST-ACOSF

Pairings: Elain x Lucien, Elucien

Warnings: slight-NSFW

MY MASTERLIST

THIS FIC’S MASTERLIST

AO3

Chapter Twelve: Day Dreams, Night Terrors

The kiss was short – sweet – merely a brush of their lips before Elain pulled back an inch to meet his eye. Lucien was not even sure it had happened. He had felt a pressure on his mouth but the notion that Elain Archeron had just kissed him seemed to go through one ear and out the other.

Surely not. Surely not.

But she was holding onto his shoulders, looking up at him with such an excited concern that he couldn’t help but feel himself give way. Elain had kissed him, and thus finally, some formality broke down between them. Lucien bowed his head and caught her lips before the moment could be ruined by their own stupidity.

He felt the slight intake of breath his mate took before he brushed his lips against her own, pressing into her with a bit more firmness than she had. The arm resting by his side came up to brush against her delicate jaw, his other hand bracing himself on the tree behind her.

After the first brush, he proceeded with a second, then a third. Then, he was pushing his lips against hers in their first, full-bodied kiss. As he did so, he pressed his fingers against her jaw, tilting her head up and back so that he may have fuller access.

Kissing her was thoughtless. It seemed the most natural thing in the world, and as their lips began to move against one another, Lucien had the feeling that he had done this a thousand times before.

Nothing she did was lost on him. The way her hands shyly dragged from his shoulders to his chest, nor how he could feel the heat of her skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. The way she still had to stand some-what on her tiptoes to reach him. Each delicate noise that left her mouth, the fragile gasps to the high hums – he noticed it all.

He could’ve done it forever. He could’ve stayed within this moment till the stars went out one by one and the world was nothing but dust and ash. The warmth spreading through his chest was golden and warm, and felt like the light of a thousand suns and Lucien swore he could feel pure love racing through his veins.

Except in some way, it was stronger than love. It was the feeling of the glory of fate – the feeling of finding a home.

Lucien was just about to take his tongue and taste her when he felt the kiss come to a natural end. Even though he’d never admit it, even after that chaste embrace, he felt as though he needed a break. There was so much emotion raging within him as he reached a peak of happiness he had not experienced in a long time, perhaps ever.

Slowly, torturously, he pulled his lips back as he rested his forehead against hers. In the kiss, their bodies had moved closer together, and he felt her leg slotted between his own, their chests touching as well as their souls.

For a few laboured moments, all that could be heard between them were their heavy, shared breaths. At least until Lucien couldn’t take it any longer and pulling back, he looked at her, as it was his favourite thing to do. His mate kept her eyes closed as she seemed to focus on her breath, her hands having come to gently hold the wrist of the one hand holding her jaw.

She was everything to him. From the first time, he’d laid eyes on her to this moment, to every one in between. She was everything to him, she was his purpose.

His breath. His sword. His home. His heart.

Though this exhilarated him to some degree he was not necessarily scared, for he knew as long as he ventured down this path with her hand in his, it would all make perfect sense.

Finally, Elain opened her eyes and looked at him with curiosity and hope. The timid doe coming to trust the crafty fox.

“Will you still gift me the moon?” Lucien laughed, loud and bright, before quickly lowering his head to catch her lips with his.

“I will bring you every star in the sky,” Lucien murmured against her lips. “And if they do not shine bright enough for you, then I shall kill the Gods themselves for having displeased you.”

He heard Elain’s delicate gasp of breath and continued to kiss her for several more moments, unable to stop himself as he slowly got drunk on the feeling of her touch and the sound of her sighs. Slowly and with remorse, Lucien pulled back a second time, both his hands now against her jaw, holding her to himself.

Elain took several breaths, simply looking at him before she sighed, “I don’t deserve you.”

“Shut up,” Lucien said plainly, lowering his head.

“But-” Elain protested.

“Just shut up.”

This time Lucien bent and pressed his lips against the soft, golden plain of her neck. A small sound escaped his mate, something akin to a whimper and he groaned in response as his body reacted to the sound.

Slowly, so that his mate would feel every touch of his lips, Lucien left a trail of burning kisses downwards to the sweetest, most intimate crook of her neck, where he burrowed his nose and lips. He kissed her there for several moments, feeling her squirm and listening to her whimper before he sucked the skin taut. There was some feral, beastly part of himself that wanted nothing more than to mark her perfect skin, not in a way that hurt, but just enough that he may lay claim to her – that he may mark her as his.

“Lucien-” Elain gasped, her hands burrowing themselves in his hair. Lucien continued, kissing along her shoulder to the strap of her dress.

His instinct was to slowly drop the strap off her shoulder so that it would leave a trail of goosebumps, but he hesitated when he reached the fabric. If Lucien began to undress Elain, in the state they were both in, there would be no stopping them.

“We should stop.” Lucien finally concluded, placing one final kiss on her collarbone before standing straight and yet, not moving away.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Elain flushed, her eyes skirting away from his. A jolt of anger coursed through him. Because she shouldn’t be apologising, and he knew exactly who was to blame for her feeling like she must.

“Don’t apologise, ‘Lainy,” Lucien husked, reaching and taking her hand and bringing her knuckles to his mouth. She turned back and watched him with wide eyes. “I’m only stopping because-” Lucien took her hand and wrapped it around the side of his neck. “-when I have you I want you lain out on silken sheets in a heavily warded room, in which no one can hear the things I’ll do to you, nor the filthy things I say.”

Elain seemed to only stare at him, her beautiful brown eyes wide and alarmed and yet, he could read the excitement there.

“Oh…right…okay…” Elain eventually stuttered, and a beautiful blush began across her cheeks and nose.

Lucien had another urge to kiss her.

“Do you, um, do you want to talk about…” Lucien said, slightly bashfully. Again, he thought of Tamlin poking fun at him at the sight of Lucien tripping on his tongue around a female. It was unheard of, he was the silver-tongued fox, infamous for making others blush and yet there never being a crack in his mask – literally.

“No,” Elain surprised Lucien by shaking her head, “We’ve both said a lot today I think…I think this is just nice for now.” Lucien nodded.

“I’m sorry, by the way. Some of the things I said…”

“Me too…”

They shared another look and Lucien, again, really wanted to kiss her. Though really, that wasn’t a new feeling.

They stood like that for a while, merely just absorbing the moment – the sound of the water gushing in the river, the melodies of the numerous birds, hidden in the trees. The feeling of one another, of the fingers and thumbs brushing strands of hair away from foreheads and skirting along the columns of throats.

It was like existing within a melody, or a beautiful painting. Together, in this moment, they were art – who could blame them for wanting to stay a little while.

Eventually, Lucien stepped back, but not without extending his hand which Elain took immediately. Together, they walked to the lip of the water, their intertwined fingers swinging shyly between them. They were both so elated over the small staple of intimacy and yet, it was unusual and foreign, at least for now.

“We got a little, ahem, distracted but that was some seriously good winnowing.” Lucien smiled down at her, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand.

“Really?” The excitement in her eyes made his heart ache.

“Yes! Of course, it normally takes fae years to accomplish winnowing a few feet but, I assumed you’d be more skilled than most.”

“Really…I…I wouldn’t think anyone thought that of me,” Elain said shyly, looking down at the water where little orange fish were swimming in circles deep below the furious gushing.

“I’ve always thought that of you,” Lucien said in a stern enough voice that no one could mistake his words for anything but the truth. And it was, true, he’d always known of her talent.

He’d always seen her, even when he could not speak to her.

Just then, Elain’s stomach growled loudly, and an adorably mortified expression came onto her features as her free hand slapped over her stomach.

“Oh, my Mother!” She gasped, her cheeks flushing even redder.

Lucien just tilted his head back laughing. The fact Elain still cared about appearing as a Lady even after their rather improper embrace against a tree trunk delighted him to no end.

“Hungry?” Lucien grinned down at her, to which she slapped at his chest playfully.

“Breakfast was a long time ago,” she huffed, though she was still smiling. Suddenly, Lucien remembered something. Turning away from the lip of the water, Lucien looked back to the tree in which they had just been braced against.

“What?” Elain hummed.

“I just want to check something,” Lucien tugged her along. Now that he had her hand in hers, he wasn’t going to dare let go.

After a moment of quiet assessment, Lucien realised he was right. The tree – their tree – bore fruit. They were little round purple baubles, about the size of Elain’s fist. The tree was centuries old, and the lowest fruit was far too far for Elain, but Lucien could reach it no problem.

Reaching up, Lucien plucked two before looking at the fruit in his hand.

“I’m not sure if they’re safe to eat,” he murmured, “I’ll have one first and then, y’know, if I’m still alive it should be okay.” Elain just tipped her head back and laughed.

“Lucien…they’re figs!” Lucien merely glared down at the suspicious fruit. Elain just laughed loudly. “They’re fine, I promise.”

Elain smiled; she took one of the figs out of his hand. She then removed the hand that was holding Lucien’s, he went to complain until she turned and began to slide her hand into his pocket. It was Lucien’s turn for his breath to catch in his throat as her small hand rubbed against his upper thigh. His mouth went dry, and he had absolutely no idea what was happening until she pulled his small knife out of his pocket, the one he’d been using on the apple.

She proceeded to carve into the Fig, cutting it into several pieces. Pocketing the knife, she held out a slice to Lucien. For a moment, Lucien was stunned that she would offer him a piece before feeding herself, and then he was shocked at the fact she was offering him food. Despite his heart galloping into an elevated pace, Lucien knew that Elain’s mind must’ve skipped the whole ‘food means an accepted bond’ fae custom. It was only when Lucien did not immediately take the fruit that Elain’s eyes widened as she realised what she was doing.

“I’d rather not,” Lucien said quickly, with a surprising amount of ease, “Human food is barely tolerable as it is, I can’t imagine their fruit is much better.”

Elain nodded at him, her eyes still on the piece of fruit. And just like that they were once more confronted by the endless complications of their relationship, the weight that had been placed on them before they’d even had a chance to properly introduce themselves.

Lucien shoved it all to the side. He didn’t care. Elain had kissed him today – that was enough to give him enough hope for a lifetime.

“Eat,” he nodded at the fruit. There was something about his mate being hungry that was making his skin itch, it was like an overwhelming urge to go out hunting or something despite there being a warm meal waiting for them the minute they got back.

It was a need to provide and care for, and Lucien didn’t mind it one bit.

He watched as she wrapped her lips around the inner part of the fruit which was pink with yellow seeds. Slowly, she both bit and sucked on the fruit, the flesh coming away easily into her mouth. Lucien swallowed thickly, his body responding eagerly to the sight of her fruit-stained lips.

Elain met his eye instinctively, as though she could hear his thoughts, and he watched as her eyes lapped into a darker shade of brown.

“We should head back,” Lucien husked, in a pained voice.

“Good idea,” she said, dryly.

***

Lucien had winnowed the two of them back to the front door, holding her hand the entire time. It was only when they entered the foyer did Lucien agree to part with her as Elain wished to change her dress before they ate.

After she’d disappeared upstairs he’d stood waiting by the window with a glass of whiskey, trying to not picture Elain pulling off her white dress, nor her getting into the bath and lathering herself in soap and running a damp rag across her skin.

She’d looked better today, he’d decided. Out there in the sun, throwing her hair into a bun as she focused and worked. The sweat making her skin glisten, the heat making her cheeks flush. He’d practically watched as she browned slightly over the course of their lesson, freckles popping up in clusters along her arms.

Gods, she was beautiful.

It seemed to be the most recurring thought in his mind these days. But she truly was the most beautiful creature he’d ever beheld, and she only seemed to grow in splendour. There were times where he wished he were a painter, just so he may be able to capture her essence. When something exists as magnificent as that, sometimes all you want to do is reflect it in your own creations.

Lucien was impatient as he stood, but merely because everything around him now reminded him of her.

Looking out the window he could see the gardens with her Honeysuckle mountains near the stone walls. The breeze made him think of how her hair danced in the wind. The distant birdsong reminded him of her laugh. The warmth of the sun on his skin made him think of her hands, splayed across his chest.

Then there was the kiss.

Gods, that kiss.

He hadn’t been expecting it, to say the least. Whilst he knew that there remained an ocean between them in terms of complications, the waters didn’t look so murky anymore. They were bright and clear, and through the glassy aquamarine, Lucien could see all kinds of thriving life.

The bond was satiated and strangely, silent between his ribs. Where there used to be an agonising, dull tautness was now a feeling of relaxation and comfort. He could still feel the string, leading upwards to where Elain – his mate – was changing, but it seemed to float in the air rather than bind.

Footsteps pushed Lucien to down his whiskey, setting the glass on the windowsill as he turned back to watch his mate enter the room.

Gods, something had changed between them, because she had never looked so impossibly lovely.

The dress was an amethyst cream chiffon that floated around her, making her look as though she had truly descended from the heavens. Her hair was unleashed, slightly wild with the head.

He was right, she was tanner, and there were a few freckles now clustered across her nose. Gods she was…

She was…

“Perfect,” he hadn’t meant to say it, and it truly only came out as a whisper, but Elain’s cheeks flushed a dusty pink as her fingers began to twist together in front of her dress.

Lucien cleared his throat before walking over to their usual dining table, Elain followed close behind and Lucien promptly pulled back a chair for her to sit. Elain gave him a shy, pleased look as she sank into the chair, to which Lucien winked with a smirk as he circled and sat opposite her.

Within seconds food was placed in front of them with a bustle of maids and cooks. Lucien felt Elain watching him as he avidly chatted with several of the maids and even the chef. He’d taken a liking to the residents, and he couldn’t help but feel rather in his element as he smiled and made friendly chat.

Though, he truly wished to only talk to one person and eventually, his patience ran out as he softly sent the maids away and turned to his mate.

“Sorry, I often get carried away with talking,” he said, rather shyly as he dug in.

“No, I…I like it,” her voice was butter and honey, and it was making him melt.

“Well, the skill of having a loose jaw is not always a blessing, at least not in the fae world.” He grinned before tapping his ruined cheek with the handle of his fork. Elain’s brows furrowed slightly, as her eyes drifted across his scar and eye.

Not for the first time, Lucien felt a wave of self-consciousness run over him. It was strange to think that he himself was not yet used to having the scar, given that shortly after he received it, Aramantha had bound that horrid mask to his face.

He guessed he was over it now but, being fae is difficult for this exact reason. As Lucien had only been scared for a small portion of his life and before that he’d had centuries of being known as the most handsome son of Autumn. What he had lacked in martial prospects he had made up for in aesthetic. With his consistently tan skin and healthy, long hair, he’d caught the eye of many fae. Where all his brothers were pale with soft features, Lucien was tall and dark with a large, sharp nose and strong, angled brows.

Before Aramantha or Tamlin, or even Jes, Lucien had often been the talk of the Court. For he had rarely taken lovers, and many wondered what it would take for him to wish to bed you.

Though, after the tragedy of Jes, in his early days as Spring Emissary, he had been going through fae at a pace that some said put Helion to shame. His days of being compared to the High Lord of Day continued into his scarred days and even when he had the mask – but by then, sex was not merely an extension of being the most handsome son of Autumn, but rather Lucien trying to prove to himself that he had not changed.

That he was still…him.

“Do you like it?” Lucien said after a few moments of silence. He was expecting Elain’s eyes to shyly flick away from where they’d been tracing his scar, but instead, she merely tilted her head.

“Liking scars seems a difficult concept,” she merely responded.

“Oh? How so?”

“I do not wish for such an awful thing to have happened to you,” Elain pushed a few things around on her plate, “But, and maybe it’s terrible of me, I can’t deny that I think your scar makes you look indefinitely more handsome.”

That…he was not expecting,

“Oh?” He husked after a second. Elain paused her eating to meet him dead in the eye.

“You look magical,” was all she said, and Lucien felt his heart shudder. “Like everything I shouldn’t want…but everything that I ultimately do….”

A heavy silence fell between them, both of them pausing in their eating as they made eye contact. It was almost as though now that they had kissed, the pre-existing tension was now insufferable.

As Lucien looked at her, the world fell away, and he was utterly consumed by the sight of her. Again, all he could think about were the things he wanted to do with her. Images flooded his mind, of taking her up against the wall, of spreading her on this table. He was aching just to feel her skin against his, to feel her warmth and to hear her sighs. He wanted nothing more than to hike up her endless skirts and find purchase in her folds. The idea of slipping a finger into her had his pants uncomfortably tight.

“Spring?” Elain said, breaking Lucien’s chain of thought and causing his mind to temporarily stutter.

“Spring – oh – spring, yes,” Lucien took a long drink, “I’m leaving to head to Spring, and I’d like for you to join me.”

“I’d love to,” she said without hesitation. Lucien merely grinned at her as he nodded, turning back to his food.

“You’ll like spring, I just know it.”

***

It was a vision, or a dream.

The experience was familiar by this point – the feeling of the world being tangible and yet distant, as though everything were real but you, as the viewer, were merely a ghost. Elain could feel her presence there in the world, taking up a certain kind of space, and yet she felt forgotten by the atoms themselves.

It was a dark room, cold with the overwhelming air of loneliness. Elain could see walls made of wood and stone with windows up high near the ceiling which allowed columns of moonlight to pass through. These bands of silver shadows gave way to very little. There were some general shapes of furniture, wooden chairs and bookshelves, but the large stone columns that ran the length of the room and made everything seem smaller and more complicated.

She was sitting in a rather uncomfortable chair, and before her was a stone pillar that had been cut in half so that it came to her waist. It seemed to be an altar, and two beams of moonlight met from opposite sides of the room to light it up, the stone almost glowing. Upon the rocky surface was a single copper pin which, upon further inspection, Elain recognised as a hairpin.

Footsteps made her jerk with shock, the first sign of life in the seemingly dead building. The steps came from behind and echoed through the empty room, ringing back into her ears. Elain went to turn around but found that her body would not obey her, whether this was due to it being a vision or the fact she had been bound, she could not tell.

The footsteps neared in a slow, torturous pace that was full of cockiness – a person who knew they had power. Elain could only sit and listen as they approached, eyes roving over the room, trying to take in all that she could see.

Eventually, the being came to a stop directly behind her and Elain felt the thrumming magic that came from their presence. The magic’s strength washed over her like a fog, and it felt strangely familiar.

“As I was saying,” the being spoke. The voice was low, deeper than any Elain had heard before, even the Illyrians did not compare.

“The mind, particularly one like yours, is a weapon. It simply begs to be sharped…wielded…” The voice spoke with the casual certainty of an aged teacher. Elain, for some reason, was still focused on the hairpin. It was old, older than her and older than any building she’d ever stepped foot in – she suspected it was even older than Prythian.

“You have no idea what you can do, and it’s so frustrating to see the way peasants of this world have treated you.”

Elain’s mind was running a mile a minute. This could not be a dream then; it must be a vision – an insight of what was to come. But where was she? Who was this person? How did she get here and how would she get out?

“They’ve taught you so many terribly inaccurate things, much of our time together will be spent undoing the poisoned seeds they sowed.” Elain didn’t know who this ‘they’ was that the voice spoke of, but his voice had somehow turned even more deadly and frightening at their mention.

Elain then heard the dragging of wood on stone before there was the clatter of a chair being settled behind her to which she heard the being flop into with a gust of wind – or rather, dust.

It was then that hands came around her and ran from her upper arms down to her hands.

Looking down, Elain saw skin of truest grey with white scars that were reminiscent of lightning covering every inch of exposed skin. The being’s arms were powerful, around three times the size of Elain’s now seemingly dainty, pale hands. The being then wrapped his own hands around hers, his chest pressing into her back. He then tucked his head into the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply.

“Your mind is not broken, Elain,” the being whispered in her ear. His voice now dark, seductive, full of a thousand promises she knew he’d do good on. “I often wonder how you must feel, to go from feeling so worthless to discovering you’re the most valuable being to exist, perhaps ever.” Another deep inhale paused the creature in his speech. “When the world discovers just who you are, there will be people carving themselves up in the streets for a single hair from your head. They will make relics of your clothes. Holidays out of your achievements.”

The hands began to intertwine with hers, grey meeting ivory, twisting like a wreath.

“A part of you has always known.” He was amused, and she felt his lips brush against the shell of her ear. “You knew you there was something so much bigger than any of them running through your blood, that’s why you let them play without you, why you stayed in the gardens where no one could worry. But you’re more powerful than that silly little High Lord of stars and his mutant wife – your sister, of course. The only one who ever came close was that other sister of yours, Lady Death, though she foolishly bargained her gift, she will come to reject that choice, though, you already knew that.”

Elain did. Nesta would never admit to herself, but Elain had seen Nesta glaring at the mirror, wondering how much of a mutant she was to wish she’d kept the flames of ice. Because getting rid of her powers hadn’t gotten rid of the shadow of death that had marred her since birth. In the end, Nesta had run from the darkest part of herself rather than harnessing it.

“I won’t let you make the same mistake.” His voice was abruptly inside her head, a painful invasion, a reminder of what he could do and what he could take. His hands unentwined from her own and those long fingers wrapped themselves around her wrists. Elain only watched as his large, grey hands formed perfect cuffs around her now dainty wrists, and he squeezed with a threatening promise. She was manacled.

Elain went to beg him to stop but then the rush of power hit and she felt her head loll against his shoulder, her mouth parting as a wanton moan tore from her lips. The magic was ecstasy, a pure rush of power and possibility. Elain could feel it courses through her blood, pounding around her body turning her skin alive and electric – just like he had.

The thought of him caused Elain to struggle against the magic but the figure only tightened his grip. Elain could taste his annoyance in the air.

“What is it you want?” It was the first thing she’d said, and to Elain’s surprise, her voice was steady, calm, entirely satiated. The magic continued to course through her, lighting her up from within. It was beautiful, and it was so, so cursed.

The being’s lips returned to her ear, and she felt his tongue once more trace the shape, as though he were trying to memorise her. He stiffened behind her, his entire figure turning rigid as his grip on her wrists turned excruciating.

“I want him dead.” The voice was deadly, cruel, otherworldly – familiar.

Pain exploded within her in the form of black fire.

***

Elain lurched awake, her hands slamming into her chest as she tried to extinguish the fire within. It took several moments of her thrashing in her vacant sheets before she realised that it had not been real – or, at least not tangible.

The black fire she had felt was phantom, a ghost of pain that had brushed through her body via her mind. That…had not felt like a vision. Or, perhaps, she merely not understand the capacity of her powers.

It had felt so real. She had been there, in that dark room looking at that hairpin as that being had taunted her. It had not felt so much of a vision as an invasion. It had felt as though someone had poured something foreign into her brain and she’d temporarily been infected.

Elain shuddered and was up and out of bed before she could think of somewhere to go or something to do. There was a whispering in her mind, a murmuring of a name that she dare not think, and she strongly wished for silence.

But, as it so often did, her mind betrayed her as she went back to the ‘vision’. She hadn’t been afraid of him – the being with grey, mottled skin – as much as she was afraid of the things he had said. The simple statements of her power to which he believed her to have plenty.

More power than Rhysand, more than Feyre. Then there were the visions of Nesta, regretting her choice, regretting saving Feyre, Rhysand and Nyx and giving up her powers. None of it made sense, none of it worked in the world that she thought she knew.

Shivering, Elain blinked to realise that she’d walked over to her closet and pulled out Lucien’s jacket. It was not the one he had given her last night when he had cocooned her in his riding jacket before carrying her to bed. Instead, his one was a deep green with brown lining. There were seven pockets in total, all of them empty bar the one that had contained several flower heads that had long since dried and turned to dust – they had been yellow carnations. The lining was of silk, not just any silk Elain realised, but Didache, the fabric from Autumn. It was fraying at the seams which told her it had been worn lots, loved much, and yet the owner had not cared enough about the jacket or themself to fix it. There was a distressing along the cuffs in which Elain could imagine worried fingers constantly curling and plucking at the seams.

It was the jacket Elain had been wrapped in after the Cauldron, and it was perhaps her only tether to the world those first few days after. Nothing could get through to her, not the angry screams of her sister or the comforting talks from her brother-in-law. Just this rag of fabric that smelt like a home Elain had never been to.

He’d been with her even then, Elain supposed.

It’s funny, she thought, even when I was completely lost, I always had him.

Tugging the jacket on, Elain was able to return to her sheets and curl up into a ball. Around her hung both the scent of him and her. His jacket having been worn by her on many sleepless nights.

The scent wasn’t just his or hers, it was theirs.

Rolling onto her side Elain took what she had seen and pushed it to the back of her mind, imaging herself locking the thought away in a box and burying it under sand. With every spade, the memory receded until her brain was quiet enough for her to slip soundlessly into sleep.

In this distance, under the moon, a firebird screamed in agony.

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legends-live-in-memories · 3 years

Text

Talk So Pretty, But Your Heart Got Teeth

AYO another day another oneshot as a part of the MGI Trope Tussle! BUT WAIT THERES MORE thanks to @nightlychaotic for letting me continue her oneshot that can be found HERE!

Fics Masterlist

Dickinette Oneshot 2.8K words

Summary:

“Nightwing was desperate to figure out Kit Noire. For reasons beyond professional.”

without further ado:

Some days, you're the only thing I know

Only thing that's burning when the nights grow cold

Can't look away, can't look away

Beg you to stay, beg you to stay, yeah

It had been two weeks since Nightwing had last seen Kit Noire. While the lack of thefts and reported break-ins was doing wonders for his day job, he found his nightlife severely lacking its usual luster. He had done some research into her powers, cross-referencing with some of his more magically inclined coworkers. Aquaman had an interesting story about some god of destruction but it was Atlantean lore that led nowhere. He was drawing blanks on what his next move was going to be. Conflicted on whether to bring her to justice or to help her get justice.

His team was of no help either. Batman was adamant on chasing her out of Gotham, her destructive powers too dangerous in the city, while his siblings were more engrossed in teasing him about his affections for the cat thief. Jabs about ‘learned behaviour’ and ‘truly being the next Batman’ went ignored for his own piece of mind. He loathed to admit it but his intrigue in her, his adamance to be involved with her case, stemmed from less professional intentions. He was compromised in this investigation but he was unwilling to relent to anyone else.

Kit Noire was his to solve.

Sometimes, you're a stranger in my bed

Don't know if you love me or you want me dead

Push me away, push me away

Then beg me to stay, beg me to stay, yeah

He finally found her one night by the Gotham Harbour. She was in the middle of an altercation with the same guy who had stolen some grimoire from her. ‘Guardian’ he had called her.

Rather than intervene immediately, Nightwing hung back in the shadows, observing the two of them. The man was obviously much older than her and was particularly equipped to combat her style of fighting. He used what appeared to be a wooden staff and was dressed in Buddhist-inspired robes. Another piece to add into his investigation.

Their fight was approaching a stalemate, neither willing to yield to the other. Nightwing decided to make his presence known. A couple smoke bombs were tossed into the fray, halting the fight. Taking the opening, he jumped in between and threw two bolas at the old man. He was wrapped securely in the wires and collapsed gracelessly on the planks. Not giving him anymore attention, he moved to intercept Kit Noire; choosing the evil he knew over the one he didn’t.

“Sorry, songbird.” She spoke with more bite than usual, her frustration with the older man still clinging to her. “But I already have plans tonight. None that involves you sadly.”

“What?” His casual drawl, partnered with his carefully crafted smirk did nothing to placate the hissing cat in his arms. “I can’t let the kitty have all the fun.”

“Please,” she scoffs; she slackens in his hold only fractionally. “As if I need a little birdy like you to give me permission to do anything.”

She slipped under his grasp and shot a leg up directly into his chin. He was taken completely by surprise and before he could react, one of his own smoke bombs was thrown at his feet. He was disoriented and by the time he switched his mask to infrared, she was already gone with the older man. His discarded bolas were the only thing that remained between the clearing haze of smoke.

Call me in the morning to apologize

Every little lie gives me butterflies

Something in the way you're looking through my eyes

Don't know if I'm gonna make it out alive

He was pulling into the precinct parking lot for his morning shift with a poorly concealed bruise on his jaw and excuses already on his tongue for how it got there. His ego wasn’t fairing much better but that was concerns for his punching bag back at his home gym. Now, he was Dick Grayson, rookie cop at the GCPD. Now, his nighttime problems can’t reach him.

Or so he thought.

He didn’t make it ten feet into the building before detective Montoya was slamming a file into his chest. He quickly glanced into the file, partially listening to her debriefing of the case, then immediately wished he hadn’t. In the file there were pictures taken from the most recent crime scene and sitting on top of the pile was a picture of a wall from the local aviary. The words ‘Sorry about last night, Songbird -KN’ were spray painted in steel blue.

He felt his irritation flare as heat crept up his neck while a weight settled in the base of his spine. His warring feelings drowned out everything around him as he fixated on her very obvious declaration. Kitty Noire had been gaining infamy for never being caught by both the cops and the bats. Some in the precinct hadn’t believed she was actually real, just some urban legend the streets were stirring up to cause trouble. To let herself be caught like this, and to admit to contact with one of the bats— it didn’t take a genius to guess which side of the law she was calling out with ‘songbird’— was damning to say the least.

Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

It was another week before he was crashing into her midleap, throwing both of them down onto the nearest roof. They rolled a couple of times before he stopped them by pinning her down. Both of her arms were held above her head; his grips were tight around her wrists, avoiding her palms in fear of what her destructive powers could do. They were on top of the platform that had the doorway to the building’s stairs. Her distracting smirk curled up further as she was about to speak. Probably a suggestive comment but he wasn’t in the mood for their usual back and forth.

“Enough games, Noire.” He shifted his knees to brace on her shins, in case she had any ideas. “You need to tell me what’s going on. You’re bringing suspicious people into the city, dangerous people, and it’s my job to drive them out.”

“I’m not bringing anyone into the city,” she all but spat at him, the fury in her eyes burned bright at the accusation. “He tracked me here.”

“And he is…?” He was getting tired of being out of the loop, meta-abilities and magic are safety hazards if left unchecked in Gotham. He needs to put a lid on this before it spirals any further.

“He is my business and soon to be not a problem for the both of us.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“You have no other choice, songbird. Above your paygrade, remember?” She mumbles something he doesn’t hear but from the shape of her lips it looked like Cataclysm. He didn’t have time to react before the roof was caving in under them.

The freefall was disorienting but he could see from his periphery that Kit Noire was prepared. She had extended her staff out to fit between two walls and was hanging on, dangling over what was probably twenty flights of steps. Nightwing wasn’t so lucky and he had to angle his fall to crash into steps a couple flights below her.

“It was nice crashing into you, songbird, but I have things to steal and people to rob.” Retracting her staff, she let herself freefall to the bottom floor of the building. Nightwing dove after her, shooting out his grappling line to one of the higher railings. She had reextended her staff, this time aiming for the height of the building, and was sliding down it like a pole. Banishing the improper thoughts of ‘Noire’ and ‘pole,’ he questioned how the staff was even able to extend that far.

Right, magic.

Once they were more comfortable feet above the bottom floor, she paused in her descent and let him over take her. He wasn’t given a chance to question her actions as she immediately swiped at his grappling line, snapping it with her rather sharp claws. This time he was prepared enough to brace himself for the fall. He landed on his feet and crouched to roll out of the harsh impact.

“I thought it was cats that landed on their feet, not birds,” her jeer echoed against the walls. He looked back up to see her rapidly climbing her staff. She was gaining distance fast and he was running out of options just as quickly. He didn’t trust climbing her staff so he took to climbing the steps from the railings, jumping and swinging himself around to gain altitude.

“Maybe you’re rubbing off on me.” She had made it to the door that led back to the roof and her staff retracted in an instant. He was still a couple flights away but he knew he wasn’t going to catch her. He resigned himself to knowing that tonight was another failed night. He had let her go again.

Some days, you're the best thing in my life

Sometimes when I look at you, I see my wife

Then you turn into somebody I don't know

And you push me away, push me away, yeah

Something Kit Noire had said was bothering him. She said she was a hero once. That she had given it up because of accusations that ruined her reputation. He had half a mind to not believe her. Write it off as one of her tricks to try and get under his skin. But the other half, the louder, more desperate half, implored him to keep searching. To uncover the cat themed enigma he had grown frustratingly fond of.

He expanded his search, looking for anything or anyone cat themed with destructive powers. A deep web search had him discovering an old video. It was labeled ‘Reflectdoll’ and nothing else. It was a part of some long forgotten blog that had an entire catalogue of videos labeled in similarly vague ways. Desperate for answers, he rationalised that if anything else, he would cross this source and narrow the search further.

The video was quite the fanfare, looking something out of a movie with impressive CGI. He was about to label this video as another bust but something paused him in his tracks. Her. Kit Noire, or at least a younger version of her, lept into the action. Her and some ladybug patterned partner dealt with the fiasco and Nightwing watched, enthralled and hopeful, as the two worked to take down the foe. He was both impressed and even more confused because he recognised that infamous tower but had no memories of there ever being attacks of that caliber in the city of love. He had done several missions there over the years, and there was never any call for help or an attack to get his or the League’s attention.

Just what was going on?

Call me in the morning to apologize

Every little lie gives me butterflies

Something in the way you're looking through my eyes

Don't know if I'm gonna make it out alive

Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

He had her pinned again, one of his hands holding both of hers above her head, the other was fisting her braid in a tight pin. They were staring at each other, neither wanting to tip the scales in their own favor. The air was charged and each breath felt like one step closer to a dangerous precipice. Nightwing was struggling with what to do. He had a responsibility to this city. This was his home. And he was letting some magical ex-hero trample all over it because he let his infatuation get to his head. He was too involved but he didn’t care. She was his case to solve.

“Something you would like to share, songbird?” Her smirk was enticing and infuriating. He couldn’t look away.

“I have a lot on my mind.”

“What? Is keeping me here not entertaining enough for you?”

“I’m not keeping you here for entertainment.”

“That could be rearranged.” She had surged up to kiss him, her lips soft and inviting. He would be a fool to pass up the opportunity.

Blood on my shirt, rose in my hand

You're looking at me like you don't know who I am

Blood on my shirt, heart in my hand

Still beating

She was hurt. The old man found her again and left her with a painful reminder of who she was up against. Nightwing wished he could track him down and beat him to bloody pulp but right now he was more concerned with patching her up. She was lucky he found her when he did. The gash on her side would be easy to stitch but he first needed to get her to somewhere safe. His options were limited. No clinic would take them in, she was still a notorious criminal after all. Batman would have his head if he brought her to any of their safe houses. The cave was completely out of the question.

But she was still losing blood.

“Why the long face, songbird?” Her voice which was usually jovial was tinted with strain.

“Oh, you know, just getting blood on my suit while a cat bleeds out in my lap.” He tried to lighten the mood and her chuckles were relieving.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just need to find somewhere to put you.”

“Oh, is the birdy worried about his kitty cat?” She was teasing him, he knew, so he decided playing along would do more for his own peace of mind than trying to refute.

“And if he is?” He mirrored her own joking tone but he couldn’t help the taxes of sincerity that slipped in. She caught on if the slight widening of her eyes were an indicator.

“Oh.” The stunned look she had on her face would be adorable if it weren’t for their situation. “I have a place, not far from here you can drop me off there.”

“Lead the way,” he said, picking her up bridal style. If he pulled her closer as she wrapped her arms around his neck then no one had to know.

Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

Fight so dirty, but your love's so sweet

Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

Nightwing never noticed this before but Kit Noire was small. Her waist fit in the palms of his hands so well and her legs were slender and lean as they tied themselves around his hips. He looked like he could overwhelm her but he knew better. He knew how strong and dangerous she was but the mental image of just holding her down as she submits beneath him spurred him on further. Her lips were cherry sweet and intoxicating. And her weight on his thighs left him reeling, silently begging for more.

“Someone’s eager,” she had pulled away from his mouth to speak but rather than entertain any conversation he just moved to suck bruises into her jaw. The hand she had in his hair tightened and pulled at the short strands. Her breathing became laboured as she pants into the night sky. He wanted to coax out more reactions from her, wanted to see if she can really mewl like a cat.

A wayward hand had her grinding down harder in his lap. They were in their own bubble on this abandoned rooftop; it sat between two skyscrapers, both casting the roof in an almost impenetrable shadow, one would really have to be looking to see them. The sound of traffic below was nothing more than white noise, a background soundtrack for their current encounter. Using her grip in his hair, Noire dragged him up from her jaw and crashed their lips together again. Her kittenish licks asked for entrance and he eagerly granted it, savouring the taste of her as she mapped out his mouth with her tongue.

He gripped her tighter, not wanting to let go, blind in the pleasure of her lips and tongue and teeth.

Teeth

Never, never, never ever let go

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