#Broody behavior

[toad-in-a-trenchcoat]

@inkteresting-art

exactly

#Broody behavior #Chickens #nether princes au #Pmatga #toad’s ghosts #np!blinky #Np!inky #Np!clyde #Np!betrayus #lord betrayus #featuring the boys as a squab duckling and owlet #Birds

[puppetmaster13u]

The omegaverse post is getting. VERY long- so I’m swinging into here-

At two-three ish years old, i think Damian would be on solid foods at that point, granted- he did just come from a cloning tube, so he wouldn’t have had any solid foods- but nonetheless, I don’t think Bruce would start producing milk.

Also, Pit rage + Dynamics?

I can see either that the Pit Rage is almost completely removed from the equation due to Jason having grown up with unnatural instincts, (There is a Lazarus pit in Gotham after all, he could have immunity due to being raised in the hellpit that is Gotham) or it’s so much worse.

Jason will either be almost completely uneffected except for being a bit more feral, or will drop into angry ferality at the drop of a hat.

And you know that Tim will end up being smothered by both Jason and Bruce- though, most often it’s Jason because Jason now has a little brother- one that needs his help and protection from his clearly neglectful parents.

Tim has no idea how dynamics work- and While very much annoyed by it, Atleast Jason can teach Tim how to be a proper pup with Steph’s help. (I can see Jason having helped taught Dick when he first came to the manor in a similar way)

And Steph will want to join in. This pack is a mess, but she she still wants to help. While She’s not full Wayne pack, she is definitely on the fringes of the pack. Not as much as Jim, but still there. ‘Sides, it’s fun playing with a big pack like the Wayne Pack! There’s so much chaos and Bruce makes amazing nests.

Also- Dynamic Headcanons time, in order of hierarchy cus why not.

Bruce - Head Omega

Alfred - Elder Beta

Dick - Alpha (Defaulted to Head alpha due to being the only adult alpha in the core part of the pack)

Jason - Pup Omega (Presented)

Tim - Pup Beta (Unpresented)

Damian - Puppy

Steph, Jim, and Barbara are on the fringes of the pack, so their rank in the pack often changes depending on what’s needed. But they default right above the pups more often than not.

Also, I can see all three of them being alphas.

Good idea lol- I'll add links to the previous ones too. 1 2

First of all, yesss. Tim is slowly brought out of his shell and encouraged by the combined might of the entire pack. No, Bruce and Jason are not almost sobbing in relief the first time Tim actually responds like a pup should.

Omg, I absolutely adore the idea of tiny pup Jason helping Dick learn how to pup. Dragging him into wrestles and gnawing at him until he asks him to stop.

I feel like Steph tries to stay on the edge of the pack but slowly gets sucked in lol, not helped by the fact that she's Spoiler. And getting dragged into the Batman's side of a pack too. It is inevitable at this point.

Gosh, what if the pit rage like, he's fine and completely in control as long as there's a Lazarus presence- which is thankfully all around Gotham. But like, if he leaves an area that hasn't had any sort of death-juice corruption he loses it a little bit. Like he has to learn how to control it before he can properly leave Gotham- outside of emergencies where he has a pendant or something with a tiny bit of the Waters maybe?

#ask answered #omegaverse #alpha beta omega #batman au #batfamily #Omg what about Cass #Would she have a dynamic or would she be really good at mimicking one #because that's what she learned from after coming to Gotham so she can for lack of better term switch between behaviors? #idk I am just rotating ideas and just woke up so feel free to ignore lol #honestly i like most of those dynamics #gosh the lazarus pit interacting with dynamics reminded me of a headcanon of mine #like even outside an omegaverse au #where every gothamite has reflective and/or glowing eyes from everything in Gotham #And i just think that would fit for this AU too lmao #Omg there should be a nesting room in the Watchtower #A room with dimmed lights & so many blankets & nesting supplies & a Big nest for a broody bat & the several vigilantes he brings with him

[homeofhousechickens]

Frank hates me and has a powerful set of lungs

#Frank #hatchgroup2 #video #This isnt uncommon with broody raised chicks but if this was a bird i was raising to keep behavior like this would be a strike against #keeping them as i want naturally friendly birds like their clutchmate Hotdog

[worldsneverfilled]

Enil: I'm gonna be some kind of anchorite after this. Gonna fuck off to the Ice Spires or somewhere cold so no one will want to—or can—follow me.

Uncle Traveler: maybe don't

Her friends, probs her dead mom, some random wizard they met, and literally everyone else: yeah maybe don't

#she wants to be broody #she learned it from orestes. we're blaming him for this behavior #campaign: the coming of the dark #also i learned a new word today #dnd #enilasor mistfield #i will post a journal entry with her shitty plan at some point #it's dumb. she'll die. she's not smart. #her int is a 10. she's a 10 at least so she has that going for her but...

[romantichomicide95]

⋆̩MEGUMI FUSHIGURO | no nut november

wk-> 2.3k

summary: megs tries to do no nut november, does not last a month. sort of has multiple parts.

warnings: nsfw. 18+. oral (f!receving), p in v sex, fem!bodied reader, agedup! to 20, domestic vibes.

"I'm just saying Gumi, I don't think you can do it." You say as you look at him across the table. He's engrossed in his book, holding a fork in his other hand, and seems unbothered by the topic of conversation - No Nut November.

Yuji was the one that brought it up of course, said they should have a little competition. Megumi, of course, told him he was an idiot. Then when he brought it up to you, you dared to tell him you didn’t think he could do it.

He rolls his eyes, dismissing the idea as foolish. Games like that are stupid, he thinks, and only idiots partake in such childish behavior. Idiots like Yuji. First of all, he could totally last a whole month if he wanted, it's not a big deal. But why would he? There's no reward at the end, no gold medal that says 'good job for not getting off'.

Megumi looks up from his book, his blue eyes scanning over your features. He raises an eyebrow as if to scoff at the very idea. "Why would I want to participate in something so... juvenile?"

You chuckle, shaking your head and playfully nudge his shoulder from across the table. "You're missing the point, Gumi. It's not about the challenge itself, it's just about proving that you can do it. It’s all in good fun.”

Megumi scoffs, rolling his eyes before putting his attention back to his book. "I'll pass on this one, thanks. I've got better things to do than worry about my... self-control."

“I mean…if you don’t think you can do it then just say that Megumi. It’s okay…I couldn’t resist me either.” You tease. If anything you know your boyfriend. He may be quiet, reserved, kind of a typical broody boy, but he often found himself unable to resist the need in his pants whenever you touched him the right way or kissed him in that spot that drove him crazy.

He looks up at you, closing his book and giving you his full attention. You’re wrong, he can do it. It’s really not that big of a deal. Besides, it’s not like you’re fucking irresistible. Okay, maybe he’s fooling himself with that one…but still, he likes to think of himself as having full control over such things. He can last a month, it’ll fly by anyway.

“Whatever, fine I’ll do it. Just so I can prove you wrong. But don’t come begging me when you get all worked up.”

—————

It’s been one week. One entire week where Megumi hasn’t touched you, or even tried to touch you. You weren’t exactly sure how he was doing it, but it was starting to drive you crazy. You tried taking care of yourself. But with every brush of your fingers against your needy clit the ache for his touch seemed to grow.

Frustrated, and to be quite frank extremely fucking horny, you decide to take matters into your own hands. You wait until he comes back from a mission one night. He’s exhausted, maybe too exhausted to remember the challenge. As you both sit on the couch, you can't help but notice how tired and drained he looks.

You decide to make your move, leaning in close and whispering seductively in his ear, "You know, I've been thinking about you a lot lately.” You say, running a finger under his shirt and tracing his abs. “I bet I could help you relieve some of that tension."

Megumi's eyes flicker open. He swallows hard, his breath hitching slightly as you continue to trace your finger over his toned body. "I... I don't know if that's a good idea right now," he says, you can hear the need in his voice as he darts his eyes away from your gaze.

You smirk, leaning in closer. "Why not? I can make you feel good Gumi." Your voice has a sultry tone to it, the one that you always use when you want his reserve to crumble.

He sucks in a breathe, adjusting his pants before inching himself slightly away from you. This is harder than he thought, but than he remembers you’re teasing from last week and the stubbornness in him takes over. "I'm committed to the dumb challenge that you, by the way egged me on to do.”

You can't help but feel a pang of disappointment. You were so sure that your seduction would work. Usually it doesn’t take long but it seems Megumi is more determined than you thought. With a sigh, you pull away from him, standing up and adjusting your clothes. "Fine. Have fun with your challenge," you mutter, walking away in frustration.

—————

Two and a half weeks, on the dot. That’s exactly how long it’s been since your boyfriend has touched you. At this point you’d completely given up on your seduction. You’d tried every trick in the book. Straddling his lap, kissing the spot behind his ear that drives him crazy…you even asked him for a massage which led to…well him just giving you a massage.

It actually had you confused. Surely he’s been horny? You knew he was pretty good at self-control when it came to pretty much every aspect of his life. But sex? I mean he’s not some ravaged sex maniac, like his best friend who lasted all of one day in the challenge, but he’s got a pretty high sex drive given his reserved demeanor. You actually had a pretty active and, if you did say so, amazing sex life. So for him to go this long without even so much as a word? It wasn’t making any sense.

So, here you were, given up on trying at all. Instead you were preparing for a movie night. Clad in his t-shirt and only a pair of pretty pink panties given the heat wave going through your city. You were standing in the kitchen now, waiting for the popcorn to pop and unbeknownst to you Megumi’s eyes hadn’t left your body.

He thinks you did this on purpose, sure it’s hot out but you know how much he loves the way those panties hug your ass cheeks. How crazy he goes when you wear his t-shirt with no bra underneath. It always gave just enough of a peek at your perky nipples and the thought of rolling one of those perfect little buds on his tongue has his cock straining against his pants.

Yeah, you must have done this on purpose. Prancing around, showing off that sexy body of yours. You keep reaching for things in the cupboard and then his shirt lifts up ever so slightly, revealing the curve of your hips. God, it’s driving him crazy. You’d been driving him crazy all week, everything you did was in some way absolutely and utterly sexy. The way you ran your hands in his hair as he lays on your chest, tired from a long mission. The way you pout your lips when you tease him, or rub your ass against his body as you cuddle at night. And of course the fact that no matter what you do you always looked so utterly breathtaking that it drove him mad. Every single thing had made him want to forget this stupid challenge and plunge his cock into the lush walls of your pussy.

As the popcorn finally starts to pop, filling the room with its delicious aroma, Megumi can't control himself anymore. He slowly gets up from the couch. You hear his slow footsteps behind you but before you can react he wraps his arms around you from behind, his body pressing against yours. His hands rest on your waist, his fingers just barely brushing the sides of your panties. His thumb rubs slowly against the skin of your thigh and the subtle touch alone sends shivers through you.

You can feel the hardness of his erection against your back. Megumi leans in close, his breath warm against your neck. He doesn’t say anything, he just presses his lips to the space between your shoulder and your collarbone. “You’re making this so hard...” He says, his voice hoarse like he’s trying hard to control himself.

You turn to face him. His hands don’t leave your sides as you look up at him. “Making what hard?”

“Not touching you, when you walk around looking like…this.” His eyes trail down your body, before he leans down brushing his lips against yours.

“Than touch me.” you whisper as you connect your lips with his. It’s not like you haven’t kissed this whole time, but something about his kisses now are primal, hungry…like he’s kissing you for first time. And you’re elated, you’d wanted him so bad…needed him.

He deepens the kiss, his hands sliding up your waist, gripping your hips. His tongue slides into your mouth, swirling with yours as he lifts you up. You can feel the growing heat of his body against yours. His erection clearly evident through his pants. "I want you." he whispers between kisses.

He carrys you back to the couch, laying you on your back, one arm on either side of your body holding himself up. He looks at you, as if he’s soaking you in before he leans down to kiss you again. He pulls his t-shirt off of you over your head, leaning down to kiss from your collarbone down to your chest, before he takes a bud in between his lips, his tongue darting around it causing a moan to escape you. It’s just as he remembers, hard bud against his tongue. The feeling always making you so wet for him.

His lips then begin to trail down your stomach, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He reaches the waistband of your panties, his fingers hooking into them, pulling them down from your body. He looks up at you, his eyes meeting yours for a moment before he continues his descent. “Stay still.” He says.

He pushes your legs apart, his tongue tracing along your folds. You reach down, lacing your fingers in his hair, giving him the initiative to push forward. Using his tongue, he goes in deeper, teasing you before dipping in fully to lap away at your sex. His tongue works the magic only Megumi’s tongue seems to have, circling around your clit in short, sharp flicks, dipping down into you then flickering back out. His mind goes a bit wild as he tastes your juices against his tongue and lips, it drives him almost as crazy as it drives you.

“Fuck-you sound so pretty.” Megumi’s cock throbs in his pants listening to the whimpers and moans only he can pull out of you. It’s been so long since he’s tasted you, smelled you, had your hands in his hair eagerly egging him on. His cock strains against his pants and he grinds against the couch, chasing any sort of friction as he pulls orgasm out of you. You grip his hair as you cum, with one moan of his name and he wastes no time licking up your juices. He savors the taste, two weeks away and he’s practically feral just from the sweet nectar. Then he’s back hovering over you again.

His lips meet yours, the sweet taste of your juices still lingering on his tongue. He kisses down your neck, grazing your skin with his teeth. He stops momentarily to discard of his shirt before his lips are on yours again. He teases your clit with a finger, then another, coating them with your slick.

He can’t take it anymore, not when your soft whimpers are singing directly in his ear. Not with the way your pussy clenches around his fingers, he’s so desperate for you to clench around his cock you don’t even notice how quick he is taking his pants off until you realize the tip of his dick is softly rubbing against your clit.

It’s just the tip and you’re already moaning, fuck you missed his cock and the way it so deliciously filled you up. Your moans egg him on, he closes his eyes momentarily as he pushes in slowly, a low grunt leaving his lips as he feels your pussy clench around him. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, his voice hoarse. His thrusts become faster and harder as he loses himself in the sensation of your walls around him, nails lightly digging into his shoulders.

His cock slides in and out of your wet heat, the room filled with the squelching sounds of your pussy milking his cock. He grips your hips, lifting them slightly off the bed so your back is arched as he drives his cock deeper and faster his hips moving rapidly against yours.

You reach out for him and he laces a hand with yours, your back falling back down to the bed as your fingers lace together. He looks at you for a second, drinking in the sight of your beautiful naked body below him.

He leans down and kisses you rough. “Don’t think I can last much longer.” He says, his face buried in your neck. You squeeze his hand as a sign that’s it’s okay and somehow the tenderness of your touch pushes him to the edge. “I’m….” he can’t even say the words before his cock twitches inside you. His cum filling you up. He grunts one last time, his face still buried in your neck.

He doesn’t move for a second, collapsing on top of you. He just wraps his arms around your body, holding you close before he moves to kiss you on the forehead.

A smile plays on your lips and you brush a sweat piece of raven hair from his pretty blue eyes. “I knew you couldn’t last the whole month.” You say with a light giggle.

He falls back down on top of you, burying his face in your neck once more and groaning. “Shut up.”

tagging: @withthegraceofthewind @belfiguevel @chilichopsticks @nobody289x @rlvsmegumi @cassiefromhell @yihona-san06 @thebigcheez

#megumi x reader #megumi smut #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #megumi x reader smut #fushiguro megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk megumi #fushiguro smut #fushiguro x reader

[lookingformoondrop]

could i request a boyfriend!andrew graves x reader headcannons or scenarios? i LOVE TCOAAL🫶🫶

Boyfriend! Andrew Graves x Reader - Headcanons

TW: Andy has a foul mouth, reader gets groped, Andy is a little possessive, a tiny bit of violence (-is always the answer)

♥︎Notes: I'm kind of an idiot so if you notice something is spelled incorrectly, feel free to send me a dm so i can fix it (totally not at all referring to my first Yandere!Andy x Reader post where I spelled dark as darmfk ;-;). Also this is kind of short because so many people requested for Andy x Reader, so I didn't want to pull out all the stops. I hope this meets your expectations <3.♥︎

The first thing you gotta to know about dating Andy, is that he's very touch starved.

I can just headcanon that due to his aloof personality and very broody behavior, he doesn't get many hugs...

So when you enter his life, best believe that Andy shows you this completely different side of him!

I'm talking.... Cuddling in the mornings till the point where you're almost late for work because he refuses to let you go.

I'm talking.... Andy being able to sense when you're about to go into the shower. His spidey-senses tingles, and the moment you're about to hop in, he's right there already getting his hair wet.

I'm talking.... Trapping you with his kisses when you're making food, definitely not noticing that he's causing you to burn dinner.

And no amount of protest can deter this man either.

Speaking of making food... Andrew is the master-chef of the house!

Now he's no Gorden Ramsey (as he likes to tell you whenever he makes you a sandwich), but everyone knows that one bite of his food is enough to make a sailor come back to the land.

So it's very nifty when you're sick and at home, in need to have someone take care of you.

The first time you ever got sick was when you and Andy were still living separately.

It was a Friday night, and it was supposed to be your 1-year anniversary with Andy. Unfortunately, due to some unhygienic biotch at the office, you caught a cold and had to cancel.

At first Andy didn't respond, instead leaving you on read. You felt bad, figuring that he was mad at you for canceling.

But lo' and behold, exactly 10 minutes later, that was a frantic sound of keys jiggling into the your front door.

You had gotten up from your couch-potato position to see the person who wanted to rush into your home so badly, when it occurred to you;

Andrew is the only one with another set of keys...

And with that realization, Andy burst through the door with a pharmacy store bag in one hand, and a grocery store bag in another.

In an instant, Andy made you take a disgusting amount of cold medicine, and blessed your cold home with the warmth and smell of spices and herbs (likely all from the soup).

When the food was ready, he sat you up with a pillow and hand-fed you soup for the rest of the night. You felt so bad for ruining your anniversary, but everytime you tried to apologize for it, Andrew would stuff your mouth with more soup and would say;

"I don't care about that romance and anniversary shit. We don't need to go to a fancy restaurant or an expensive place just to feel like we're honoring an important date. That date is important because it is our date. We don't need to one-up that memorable time just to remind everyone of how special it is... Y/N, you're crying into the soup."

Needless to say, you cried.

But Andrew doesn't just take care of you...You best believe he also protects.

Well, sorta.

You could be in a grocery store, at a Boba shop, in the mall, getting new shoes, it wouldn't matter, Andrew would always have his hand on your waist.

Be it because he saw someone look at you, doesn't matter who or how old they are, he'll always wrap his arms around you and whisper ever so softly, "You're mine..."

It has definitely given you some weird looks over the years, but you know he means well.

And if anyone ever actually looks at you funny? It's over for them.

Andrew will make it VERY clear that you're not to be messed with.

For example, a couple of months into your relationship, you were riding the train. Enjoying a simple conversation about suspicious neighbors and whatnot, when all of the sudden some guy came up behind you and tried groping you discreetly.

Andy noticed very quickly that all the blood drained from your face. He looked behind you and noticed the old geezer trying to get a hand full of someone way younger than them, and Andrew could feel every restraint in his body snap.

In an act of "self-defense" as told to the cops later on, Andrew punched the living daylights of the guy and sent him flying into a pole.

You fussed over Andy's fist for awhile, completely forgetting about how you felt. But the only thing Andy could think about was how he should've hit that guy harder.

When you guys were finally walking home, hand in hand, you leaned on Andrew.

"I'm sorry about today Andy... I didn't mean for you to get all banged up."

Andrew snorted, "My knuckle is a little scratched up, so what? That perverted asshole had it coming for him."

You kissed Andy's cheek, which granted you a dark blush from Andy, and a grin from you.

"Thank you Aaandy~" You brushed his hand with your thumb,

Being in a relationship with Andy is a little messy, and yes sometimes a little crazy. But no matter what happens, Andy will always stick by your side.

"You're welcome, sweetheart." Andy squeezed your hand in return.

Thank you for the ask<3

#the coffin of andy and leyley #x reader #andrew graves #andy graves #headcanons #y/n #andrew graves x reader #andy graves x reader #relationship headcanons #cute #what else do i put here #not proofread #andy and leyley #the coffin of andy and leyley headcanons #dem kids swear up and down

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

THE SOUND OF SILENT GRAVES (X)

NAVIGATION || RAVISHING ALLURE MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER XI

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 15.5k

WARNINGS: Angst, threats, exploitation, stalking behavior, very dark/toxic modeling standards/expectations, body issues, scar descriptions, mentions of past intimacy, broody/stubborn Nikto, brief smut, etc. (Series 18+)

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Your mind doesn’t remember the first time you looked in the mirror and saw the beginnings of the flaws. Perhaps your nose was a bit too strange—lips a bit too…there the second you turned thirteen. Maybe fourteen. Fifteen. You know it started slow, like all poison does; the point to where you actually begin to pay attention to the chains around your neck. 

Your eyes hadn’t left where Nikto’s sweatpants sat so well over your hips for at least five minutes. Usually, you’d pick at those flaws here, on the cold bathroom tile with the black and white wash of nothingness. But this is distraction enough to block it out, at least for now. 

You smell like him. 

You’d noticed after you had woken up for the second time and had found Nikto gone—his thigh no longer the firm pillow to your skull. It startled you, admittingly, and you thought it was unlike him, but then your ears had picked up on the barked Russian sentences outside the bedroom door, drifting in from under the wood as your haze cleared. Best guess? He was on the phone with someone while you kept getting the rest he said you needed; you could only speculate how he got out from under you without making your eyes snap open. But, yes, it was undeniable that every ounce of your skin was bathed in his scent; marked, branded as if a sheep. 

Rotting wood coated in gunpowder, and gnawing metal that peels back flesh. 

It’s stuck in your nostrils as you itch at the side of your nose, blinking away from your reflected visage as if it’s on fire. 

Focus, you plead, and you don’t even know to whom. 

So much had happened, that the thought of your brain calming down was impossible. Nikto knew. He knew about the purpose of the parties, he knew about your doubts and fears, he knew your body. 

As you exit the bathroom, your mind slips into a dark thought—maybe learning to care about someone turns you into a bit of a stalker of your own. No one else could say they knew you as well as Nikto now does: your fears and your hopes. Not even Alyona, you flatten your lips at the realization, and you consider her your best friend. 

“Jesus,” you groan quietly after a moment, pushing your palms into your eyes with a heavy sigh. 

It can’t be past noon now, and you can’t run from this forever. 

The phone on your nightstand is taken up, and, sitting back on the bed, your eyes dart and skate past the tossed party dress on the floor, wishing someone would go out and burn it already. As the visible tear in the lace catches your attention, along with the slashed corset, there’s an unmistakable twitch at your lips, that only makes your chest tighten immediately after.

Clearing your throat, you turn back on the device and try to give it your undivided, though anxious, attention. The sound of sharp Russian beyond the door gives a sliver of comfort. 

But still…why hadn’t he woken you up? There’s a sliver of confusion that takes place in your mind, but you push it back softly.

The first wave of notifications is expected, and exactly the same as it had been before breakfast. 

Kliment Fedorov, Alyona, your Mom, even the investigators—texts and calls, ranging from clipped sentences to long paragraphs. Thumb hovering over the screen, you raise your opposite hand and rub at the base of your skull, a low sound in the back of your throat. There was so much, you didn’t even know where to begin. You should be worrying about the stalker, not your job. 

But…when had you not been worried about your job?

Just another thing to make me lose my mind faster, you think. God, this is getting to a point where I’m starting to not care if they get rid of me—at least then I’d be able to make my own decisions. You start with Aly, and you quickly slap the call icon just to ease your shaky fingers of the stuttered typing they would have had to do otherwise. Phone to ear, the ringing only persists for two seconds before there’s the hurried panic of static and a frantic voice. 

“Seraph!” 

“Aly—” You try to quickly calm her down, mouth open with the half-formation of speech.

“Bastard! Why did you not call me?!” The woman snaps, and your ears twitch, your body flinching at the guilt that grows. “I have been up all night and worried most of the morning—damn you. Everyone at AMA is silent and Fedorov won’t let me into his office.” 

That’s right, you had told her you’d call her after the party—when you’d talked to her after seeing Nikto’s back tattoo. 

After you’d touched his ravaged flesh. 

Your face heats slowly, head tilting to the floor as you clear your throat. It was all wrapped in tissue paper, those memories. The storage room, the way those pale eyes had dug into your form in that damned dress, wanting to try and compliment you in his own strange way but being unable when you degraded yourself so consistently—unsure of himself. It was addictive seeing such a frenzied and numb man walking on cracking ice.

But that doesn’t make you any more sure of yourself.

“I meant to,” you hurry into your explanation, waving a hand even if she can’t see it. “You know I wouldn’t leave you wondering unless I had a good reason.” 

Alyona huffs over the line, silence falling as her anger tapers into a line. “...I need to put a bell on you, Солнышко.”

You close your eyes and sigh, fingers moving to push into your nose bridge. 

“Yeah,” your mouth utters. “Honestly, it’s not a bad idea, Aly.” 

It isn’t long before there’s the low plea—that heavy insinuation. You know she’s still now, waiting for you to begin. “Tell me, then.”

Face tightening, you pause and listen for Nikto. You still hear the muted conversation, and occasionally, the stomp of heavy boots along the floors. He’s pacing. 

What’s going on out there? Who was he talking to? You wonder silently, perplexed. Nikto had made many phone calls before, and while he preferred to be in a nearby area and speak in his mother tongue, they hadn’t been as long as this—nor as snappy. Shaking your head, you suppose it’s a problem for later, and in the back of your mind, every word that he’d ever spoken to you rattles like rocks. 

You were nervous around Nikto now, and that doesn’t make any sense to you.

Doesn’t the nervous part come before getting touched in the back of some dark storage room? 

You grunt under your breath, clenching your jaw; becoming more and more like Nikto as the days pass, it seemed. 

“I didn’t sleep with Tarkovsky,” your words are breathy and low. Trying to hide. “...Nikto stopped it.” The heavy pause is enough to make your palms sweat. “Aly?”

“Perhaps I judged the beast of man too early.” You blink, tilting your head as your eyebrows draw in. “Christ, Seraph. I’m relieved, of course I am, but what will Fedorov do once he finds out?”

“He already knows,” you relay. “Nikto wasn’t…subtle about his refusal to let me go.”

“Blood?” Aly asks.

“And bone,” you sigh. 

“Shit,” the woman over the line grumbles. “Do you…” she trails off slowly. “Do you think AMA will keep you on?”

“This hasn’t happened before,” you shrug to yourself, hearing Nikto speaking louder. Your eyes dart to the door, and as you blink, your fingers run your thigh in a self-soothing motion. “I don’t know. Right now I’m debating if it’s even worth it.” A painful chuckle. “Any advice?”

“Keep the bastard around long enough to break someone else's bones.” Aly’s laugh is sharp and smooth. “Show them what happens when they do anything he doesn’t like.”

“The night wasn’t all bad,” you try to defend his personality a smidge. “He’s not some monster, Aly.”

“I wasn’t implying that,” there’s the sound of moving fabric from over the call, and Alyona is most likely in a fitting room herself, taking up your call as she rushed out of a photographer’s shoot at light speed. “...You like him, then? Truly? Or are you just enamored by his capacity for violence?”

Your body slows at the obvious jest, taking it seriously. Face stilling, you blink at the wall across from you. Everything else blurs for a moment, memories slashing to every opened car door and meal made with expert hands. Organized magazines on your tables and cleaned dishes. There was something funny about the way you enjoyed the stretch of his sin coating you like blood over the visible flesh of a masked face.

Nikto wasn’t a good person. You knew that.

“Yes,” you whisper regardless, feet shifting below you. “How can I spend so much time with someone and not like them?” Your words try to reason.

“Very easily,” the Russian woman scoffs, not wasting time. “You know what I mean, Little Seraph. Don’t try to push me off like I am stupid.” A low hum. “When you talk about him, your breath goes light.”

“It does not,” your voice tightens. 

“Denial,” Aly sighs. “The first sign.”

“Oh, shut the hell up,” you groan, standing up and beginning to walk the room casually. You enjoyed the banter—the teasing: you two were good at that. 

As soft chuckles waft around, your lips twitch into a smile. “He’s not horrible. That’s all I’ll say.” 

“No beast?”

“No, no beast. A stubborn brute of a dogish ex-soldier?” You roll your eyes, and the commotion outside of the door takes on a different tone. You pay it no mind. “One hundred percent.”

“You like strays, yes, Seraph?” Alyona’s line crackles.

“I was burdened with a good heart,” you joke with a chuckle, nodding. As the second of silence draws, you reluctantly push out, “I need to check in with everything else.”

“Then I’ll leave you to it,” is the easy reply. The next sentence is troubled. “...If you’re kept, will you have to go to the rest of the parties?”

You don’t get to reply, because there isn’t a moment to think above the sinking in your gut and the sudden shove of the door. Head snapping up, the phone is tilted from your face as your eyes bug wildly. 

Iakov makes it three steps into the room, searching for you, before a growled shout and a ruthless hand connected with his suit’s collar. Watching wide-eyed, you see the way the pale-haired man is dragged out with a loud call of alarm.

Mouth agape, all you utter is a quick, “I’ll call you later,” before rapidly hanging up and moving as fast as you can to the door.

Shoulder hitting the frame, you stutter as you right yourself swiftly. “Nikto?”

“Go back to bed,” the black void grunts, gloved hand releasing Iakov with a violent shove. The two men are in the living room, your guard glaring with venom at your media coordinator as he stumbles back, nearly falling to the floor. 

“She can’t!” Iakov meets that fire with fire, strengthening himself. His face is a tone darker—eyes sharply snapping. “Fedorov has been waiting all day to have a meeting, and I won’t have my job on the line because of some entitled bra—!”

Nikto’s hand re-wraps itself around the man’s collar, jerking the fabric, and in turn, the smaller body forward until the rough fabric of the lower half of his mask is nearly brushing Iakov’s nose.

“I will cut out your tongue,” Nikto eases out far smoother than you’d heard thus far in your many days together. 

Your heart skips a beat.

“...Okay,” you say under your breath, face on fire as your coordinator freezes like a bird under a cat, a flash of rage simmering in his expression. The tension was palpable.

Truth be told, you’d never seen Iakov so unmanaged before—hair this way and that, suit ruffled not only from Nikto but from the apparent running of hands. He was always so put together. You swallow down your shaky worry. 

You’d never known him to be anything but respectful. It was like a knife to the chest to see such a rabid switch of emotions—of personality. Christ, it was damn near wrong.

“Nikto,” you say quickly, and the brute only tilts his head your way, not looking at you as his fingers tighten. Your tongue darts to wet your lips. “Please.”

Iakov is pushed back once more, and your guard grunts, light gaze unwavering as he backs up only a half-step nearer to you, widening his shoulders as the trunks of his arms cross his chest. Suddenly, thoughts of sex, power, and a stalker boil down to the sight in front of you instead, and the great confusion gets larger still.

Nikto is back in full gear, and here you are in sweatpants and an oversized shirt. When had your Russian bear managed to change? Had he left the bedroom far sooner than you’d thought? And…why? Keeping the Russian in the side of your narrowed eye, you take a breath and quickly address the greater problem. 

I thought Nikto was only on a phone call.

“How did you get in here?” Your voice is low, riddled with exasperation and a tinge of stiffness. Would Nikto even have let someone in without talking to you first? It seemed unlikely.

Iakov sneers, clenching his jaw—the void beside you is silent. 

“Key.” Long fingers disappear into his suit, peeling out the gray face of a hotel room key and holding it between two fingers. Eyes pierce you, narrowed with a wave of horrible anger and swirling contempt that makes your breath hitch as if under the scrutiny of a wolf.

Your lungs hold themselves in your ribs like prisoners at the confession; eyes widening. 

Key?

Nikto levels out slowly, shifting with canid-like movements. “Walked in when we were speaking to the investigators over call.” He breathes out a rumble. “Nearly shot his head off.”

“You would have had a harder time than that, Хуй,” Iakov barks, dress shoes clicking as he slaps a foot forward. 

Heart hammering, your anxiety dances—questions muddling. Paranoia. Why would Iakov be allowed to have a key to your room? Had he always had one when you were sent out to parties?

What if he’d walked in before….?

Shaking your head at the implication, you step in before Nikto has a chance to jump the man, snapping out in a fashion that was unlike you, but came from both a place of desperation and nervousness. Your face pulls into a sharp display of panicked anger.

“Both of you shut up and listen!” Nikto freezes, eyes flashing instantly to shock. After a moment, any discernible emotion vanishes from his pale eyes, and he blinks down to you; shoulders lowering as if a display of submission.

While you can’t see it, Nikto’s heart sputters. He hadn’t expected that from you. 

Even back in Yekaterinburg, you were more prone to letting the course go calm—letting others lay themselves over you to avoid confrontation. You were still like that, of course; that was plainly seen in your unwillingness to explain before the party what was going on, but an outburst like that Nikto had never seen before. 

He watches you closely but remains mute even if his throat cages in a grunt of surprise.

Iakov freezes as well, neck snapping over like a fish on a hook. He was rageful and arrogant, you could now see it plainly. Even if he was always composed, you weren’t blind to the looks he would give you when he passed you in AMA—the discreet touches to the back of your shoulders or arms when you’d be given schedules face-to-face. 

You were stuck in a circle of distrust and lustful eyes, and the only reprieve was a man with more blood on his hands than a butcher holding a pig’s heart. 

Trying to calm yourself, you shake your head softly.

“Iakov,” you utter at the glaring face, hate and disgust stuck behind pupils. “Explain it to me.”

“You fucked it all up,” he growls, and Nikto’s gaze snaps to return to a pale face. Yet he still doesn’t interfere, hanging around like a puppy lacking his needle teeth. Muzzled. It doesn’t stop his eyes from sparking, however. “There is no deal with Tarkovsky! You know what that means, Seraph?” His hair is flattened down by a fast hand, tongue licking at his lips. “No money. Fedorov is wringing my neck! Why have you not answered the phone?!” 

“I was resting,” you mutter stiffly, face a tension-ridden mess. Glancing at Nikto and his tight pupils, the Russian doesn’t look over, only his hips moving in a small shuffle. You clear your throat with a small ache starting to form at the base of your skull. “Just got up.”

“It is past noon,” the shorter man barks. “This is absurd!” 

“Lower your tone,” Nikto utters. 

“I will speak what I will,” Iakov’s expression is like a knife as you stuff your shaky hands into your pockets. “Seraph needs to listen to what I tell her to do before—”

“Before what,” your guard interrupts, tilting his head. Around him is a false calm that somehow seems more violent than if he was yowling like a mutt. Your lips thin into a line. “Hm? Speak. You were doing it not a second ago.” 

Your coordinator stills and he wisely keeps his tongue from flapping.

“We will say it only once more,” you watch Nikto from the corner of your eye, breath trapped in your throat as his hips tighten and arms slip to hang by them; gloved hand flexing where the lack of a digit is glaring at you. “Watch your tongue.”

“I’ll call him,” you comply to Iakov’s complaints after a moment of heavy silence, face on fire and your chest being hit by every palpitation of your heart. Your mind is airy, and that scent of rotten wood is back as your legs push in on themselves. “I’ll explain what I can and—”

“Too late,” is the hissed answer. “He already gave me my workload. You’re going out tonight if you still want your job.” Your spine goes rail-straight. “This is the last chance, Seraph,” the pale-haired man spits. “This is it—you’ll put on what I have for you to wear, you’ll give yourself to the man who wants to invest into AMA, and you’ll keep doing what I tell you to. Your dog,” Iakov stares at Nikto for a long while, opening and closing his hands like he wants to say more, but only growls, “will do as he is ordered.” 

Nikto is about to punch him, you can tell by the roll and shake of his wrist. In an instant, you have your hand grabbing at his bicep, barely applying pressure beyond the initial grasp and yank. It does the trick though. 

Nikto’s body halts.

“Give me the key and get out,” you say in a monotone to the raging coordinator. 

Iakov looks like he’s going to fight on that, and your unease at his presence gets larger. The knowledge that he had access to your hotel room the entire time makes your muscles writhe with something dangerous—alarm bells. But the stalker isn’t here with you, is he? He’s back in Yekaterinburg unless there’s something you don’t know about.

Before you can pull on your guard’s arm again, Nikto pounces and slaps the key to the floor, which skids along the white tile as you gasp softly. Great hand connecting with a shouting Iakov’s collar, Nikto doesn’t let go as he begins dragging the man away like a toddler with ease, dress shoes scuffing the floor. 

Face loose, your eyes follow as the Russian grasps the door handle, yanks the barrier open, and tosses the coordinator out with a snarl. 

“You need to obey what I tell you—!” The scream is cut off as the door is slammed shut in Iakov’s face ruthlessly. A lock clicks in place, and that’s the end of it. 

Nikto stays to stare through the peephole, eyes beady and chest heaving with heavy breaths. Under the mask, his skin is taut with feral tension. 

In his youth, the Russian had been unswayable in his anger—a fact that resulted in many a school fight and bloodied faces, usually not only his own. It’s what brought him to the military, to be completely honest with himself. A lust for something he could control like a pocket knife in his hand, but bigger than two teenagers wailing on each other in some field while a gaggle cheered them on. Split knuckles and cut lips. One thing never got any easier, though. 

That damn spark of animalistic loyalty.

He’d formed some bond with you, that was certain. Mutual gain? Who knows. Bodily need? Maybe. Actual care? …Curse him, but perhaps. Yet, hold his toes over a fire if he didn’t feel a horrific rage at some man he could break over his thigh speaking to you like that. 

He feels your gaze on the back of his head even now, as he watches that media coordinator scurry off like a rat, and he flashes to the ongoing gag the two of you had formed. 

Looks like a Shrew. Little rodent.

Nikto sighs under his breath, fingers coming up to rub at his covered chin, scraping gloves against the thick canvas. He backs up with a scoff and stalks away. 

“The man is weak,” Nikto says to you, keeping a tight side-eye. “Get a better one before we dispose of him.”

You strangle down a quick laugh, mouth slowly opening as you think over your words. The comment, said in that rough and sandpaper-like accent, flows through you like water. You should be put off by it, you think to yourself in the back of your brain, especially after the explosion in the bakery and the death of your three previous guards; of Yefim.

Yet…

Your throat tightens. “You think he was being serious?” You ask. “About the party tonight? My job?”

“You are not going.” It’s immediate. 

“Nikto,” you frown, stepping forward as he brushes past you to grab his phone that was sitting on the coffee table. “There are parts that I won’t be a part of again, but I know that you know, that I need to keep my position at AMA. With any hope, showing up will be enough—I can speak, persuade, the person who—”

“Why?” he spits, shoving the device away as his pale eyes glare, head tilting. 

If you knew any better, you’d compare this to a boy pouting. Just perhaps a bit more serious. 

“Oh,” you vaguely motion with a hand, sarcastically uttering as your heart slows now that it’s only the two of you. “I don’t know—food, rent, the ability to live comfortably. You know, the usual.”

Nikto huffs, taking out his baretta and placing it on the table before the cleaning rag is slipped from his belt. He sits down near the neatly folded blanket and perfect pillows, silent. You’d have to keep this conversation going later, there was a low curiosity in your stomach. His phone—the speaking you’d heard from the bedroom. 

“Who were you talking to before I came out?” Walking forward, you listen to the click of dark metal as Nikto takes apart his gun piece by piece, setting them all down in a well-thought-out order. He glances up, and you see his lashes dip in a blink. As usual, his expression is unreadable while behind that mask. You almost missed the balaclava—at least you could see the outline of his lips that way.

“Anything important?”

“Investigators,” Nikto grumbles. “They have taken Sergi into custody, but can get nothing out of him,” he pauses, troubled though you can’t see it as your eyes widen, body going to sit beside his own before intently listening. 

“That’s perfect!” You speak, a smile overtaking your lips. “Maybe that’s why I haven’t gotten any more texts from the stalker. Do you think that they’ll keep him there?”

“No,” you still, smile freezing. “They cannot.” Pale eyes stare into your own smoothly before they break away. Nikto clears his throat, fingers twitching as more bits and bobs are polished. “DNA does not match those found on the letters from your lockbox. It is illegal to falsely detain someone for over forty-eight hours. He will be released unless further evidence is discovered.” 

It’s a slow moment before you swallow down the sharp disappointment in your gut, attention darting from the silent Russian to the table. 

“Oh.”

Nikto’s muscles tense the longer this silence permeates, eyes unconsciously darting back from his gun to you. After a long while, he sighs aggressively, dropping the rag and the slide he had been polishing without thought as it thumps to the table.

“Птичка,” he turns, and you blink back to him just to notice the instant tension as your eyes lock. 

Such grays and blacks make up his being, that you wonder if color even mattered when it came to him—you already know those shades of in-between things, and Nikto could certainly be described as in-between. The activities of the storage room flash behind your vision, and your lips part softly. 

But something isn’t right. 

You’d thought that maybe Nikto would always be something of a blank slate to you—obviously, you could tell when he was frustrated and such, but anything beyond that was still up to your imagination. But it’s especially telling when you can understand the way he hesitates to touch you when his hand rises. 

The limb moves to your bicep before the Russian drops it back down, turning back to his rag, and gets back to work with the lines beside his eyes visible as if grimacing. Beyond the anxiety, and the paranoia, you find the hurt burns sharper than those two ever could.

Not to mention the uncertainty. 

You stare openly for upwards of three minutes, hesitant with the white noise in your brain overtaking your thoughts. 

Nikto’s head is thumping—attacking every ounce of common sense to be found. The picture on his phone; the implications. The stalker wasn’t Sergi, because Sergi was at this very moment still detained and had been since last night…how could he tell you that? A man who was already horrible with words, so used to barking out his true feelings to soldiers and civilians alike. He can’t be that with you. Not anymore. He doesn’t want to be. But he’s stubborn—he’s prideful. Arrogant. It’s easier for him to figure it out himself than burden you, and in many ways, you were the same beast.

Mutt, mutt, mutt. Golden chains around supple flesh.

Nikto opens and closes his mouth many times, not knowing how your heart is cracking piece by piece; so averse to speaking about yourself. He’d left while you were still asleep to make the phone call himself to your investigators, not able to stare at your face any longer or feel your flesh. It had made his attention slip, and his focus fail. 

The lack of control where he already had so little. He couldn’t take it, and in that, he felt dirty. Tainted. 

The knowledge that someone had a picture of you in perhaps the most vulnerable moment he’d ever seen you in was worse, still. Like the blood on his hands was smearing itself over you, dipping along your waist and hips; sinking its dripping knuckles into the tight clutch of your welcoming walls. Fingerprint marks over your navel, clawing. 

Nikto flinches subtly in his seat, a low sound echoing in the back of his throat. He wishes he’d never known the color of blood if only to not be able to imagine it along your pretty skin. 

The Russian had only been thinking about it when you were sleeping, a slow infection seeping in as it always did—the stalker had been just behind him and he hadn’t heard a thing. The thought was enough to nearly make him vomit.

It was an utter disgrace to his skills. 

He can’t be distracted anymore; not now. Not when he feels the fingers digging into his scars, the cuts, the drags of knives, and the burn of fire. He needs that control back. Some semblance of stability. 

You try not to show how much you’re taken aback—how much Nikto’s sudden distance is a physical pain to you. The dead air settles, and you feel your pulse through your skin like a wound. 

“...Anything else, Nikto?” Your voice is deathly still. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe you had pushed something too far. 

“...Нет.” The Russian’s fingers are hovering over the pieces of his gun, dismantled and laid bare to the overhead light of the blinding hotel. This place is cold; sterile. You’d said it before and you’d say it again—this was not a place you’d want to live. Now…even less so. Nikto clears his throat as you stand jerkily, sending a glance that lands on your throat and not your eyes. “There is nothing.”

You nod quickly. 

“Good. I’m, uh,” your tongue wets your lips, and pale eyes try not to follow the motion even as he finds it like a siren call. Control. “I’m glad. I’ll figure out the details about the party tonight and get back to you.” 

Nikto’s shoulders froze, but by the time his damaged brain had caught up with his mouth, you were already back in the bedroom and shutting the door with a soft hand. 

A blue gaze sticks to the barrier, but not a single sound creates so much of an echo as the seconds draw into minutes. 

“Enough,” Nikto orders himself, turning back to the table. Lips shifting into a deep frown, there’s little in the way of understanding his own actions, but wasn’t that the norm? Distance lets him think—thinking means solutions. Solutions for you; solutions for him. 

But the feeling of your warm flesh is addictive, and there are moments in between the flashes of bloodshed that circulate when your brushing fingertips scrape down his back—a bear to a deer, but now he’s not too sure which is which. There’s a need to consume and eat down sustenance until his face is bloody and raw again, that half of a Glasgow smile ripped open and hanging, brutality ingrained into his psyche by way of pain and pleasure. 

You touching him was both.

Being near you was both.

Knowing about that picture he’d been sent was worse than the former.

Nikto had thought to tell you, he’d been getting better with that, but then he’d truly thought it over and in his own way wanted you to be safe from just one more violation. It was how he was—a silent, brutish, mutt-like hired gun. He was smart, though. 

And, damn him, he liked it when you smiled. 

“Focus on the task,” he grunts, his knuckles under his gloves surely white from how hard he handles the metal of his beretta, stress cleaning even if he doesn’t know it—doesn’t acknowledge it.

His tight-pupiled eyes keep dragging themselves back to the door.

—

The hotel stayed in a suffocating silence even as the stylists came and went. They didn’t say a word as the hours lengthened—nervous, if you had to guess. The story of ‘the guard who snapped a man’s wrist in one motion’ had made its rounds quickly; gossip always on loose tongues. 

You’d had a call with Fedorov. You think you had only gotten through it because you’d dug your nails so hard into your hand, that the initial scrape of cartilage had distracted you from the threat of being fired. The beady-eyed CEO had been less than pleased, and that was all you wanted to comment on; to even think about.

“I’ve heard troubling things, Seraph. Very troubling. What is this about your guard? I had thought we had come to an understanding about it. Tight leash, yes?” 

Your fingers skate the smooth front of the newest dress you’ve been given, and you play with the dangle of cold metal around your fingers. Rings. You don’t know if they’re gold or silver, nor the gems set into them, but you know they’re elegant—just as the fabric you wear is.

There’s no great slit here, not in this form-fitting sleeve of white. Two pieces of fabric move up to cover your breasts and meet at a collar around your neck of the same silk, the train extending from the back of that collar that trails the ground. Lace, of course. Your shoulders are bare, just as a good ninety percent of your back is; only stopping at the small of your back where the fabric is once more tight to you. Pearls and feathers create a beaded version of a corset, tantalizingly caressing your bare flesh. 

Your first thought is that you’ll freeze in this, but the second is how you’re going to walk in the heels—a silk strap looping your ankle before a big bow meets your eyes.

And the third is even worse.

“I think I’m losing my job tonight,” you whisper, blank-faced and knowledgeable of Nikto once more waiting where he had been before. A vicious repeat, a hopeless deja vu. 

A pawn in someone else's game.

Your fingers tap your abdomen in broken intervals. There had to be a way out of this, you try to tell yourself. 

Think. 

But your mind always drifts back to the damn ex-soldier that’s in the living room. His attitude today—his distance from you was like taking a bullet to the gut. You should be celebrating the detainment of Sergi, of possible breakthroughs even if the DNA didn’t match. 

The baker’s boy knew something, that was a fact. 

But nothing. No joy—no jokes or sarcasm. 

As you look at yourself now, you can only now recognize the expression of utter defeat you wear so plainly like a burial shroud. This was a cruel game. But there was something truly frightening about how close you and Nikto had become in such a relatively short period. Akin to soulmates finding one another, except for the simple fact you didn’t believe that was what the two of you were anymore. 

It had been a brief hope, truly. But one that you’d wanted more than anything, and you don’t know why. You don’t know why you let him touch you; let him be so near—it runs around your brain to speak itself in tongues just like the rest. Problem after problem. 

One at a time, you turn and exit the room, not looking at yourself longer than you have to. 

Nikto stands stiff by the door, already in his suit and balaclava—M13 and Beretta back where they belong respectively. The knife, you have no clue, though you know it’s somewhere. 

There are no compliments from the two of you. No speaking. So quickly something flipped on its head. Pale eyes dart, but when they meet yours, drip and drag away to the coat rack as you grab for your jacket. As your attention tries not to linger, you see him momentarily peel back his eyelids at the sight of your elegant dress but say nothing beyond a garbled sigh.

The air was so thick, that it was nearly enough to display how idiotic and childish the two of you were for acting like this.

You open your mouth and push out, “Ready to go?” 

In the hours you’d taken to get ready, the Russian had come up with a plan. 

He nods to you now and opens the door, allowing you out as he stays behind, making sure the lock clicks as you glance over your shoulder. Beginning to walk with him just a foot away, Nikto runs over his idea once more. 

With any hope, the stalker now had a personal vendetta against him for getting physically involved with you—he’d been looking up studies in his spare time while you were getting dressed; tapping his fingers along his phone stiffly. 

Only one sentence stood out to him, and it still stands out now as you go to wait in the elevator ahead of his looming form, eyes to the ground and hand massaging the back of your head. 

‘Stalkers like to get their target isolated; they’re selfish. They want the person all to themselves and dislike anyone who can possibly get in the way of that. Whether it’s a romantic partner, family, or friends, if they pose a roadblock for the stalker it can result in added stress or an urgency to act.’

Nikto moves to stand beside you, shoving a firm finger to the ground floor button and glaring at the wall, lips stiff from under fabric. 

If the man would come after him, then it would get you out of the spotlight at least for a short amount of time—perhaps it would even be enough to catch him. 

Maybe tonight, Nikto wonders silently, eyes narrowing as his feet settle. He will be there. We need to be ready. 

Your lungs breathe down a slow breath, taking in oxygen until your chest rises with the swell like a bag in the wind. This feeling is something you don’t know if you’ve experienced before beyond the sensation of having to relearn your limbs after your accident; an expectation and a draw, something just there but out of sight. 

Inebriating instability. 

Instead of your hands being shaky, now your mind was. 

Nikto is so close—so there beside you. You wanted to reach out to him, to hang off of his arm. To be something. It was pathetic of you, especially after he’d already assured you that you both would deal with the uncomfortableness of your prior affair. 

Was this his way of dealing with it? Avoidance? He didn’t seem the type, and you’d already known that he wasn’t. 

So it’s bigger, your face pulls in. But what? Why this…hesitation?

Your eyes spark. 

Hesitation, no. In the elevator, your arms tense as the small sound of the metal box meeting the ground floor echoes; Nikto also darts his head up, deep in his thoughts. You both share an unexpected side-eye, before the doors open and you hurry out on unstable feet as your face burns. This is fear. 

“What are you afraid of?” You whisper to yourself, hearing those boots behind you. 

At the Russian’s unease, you find your own doubling just as simply. 

Who could make a bear afraid of the forest?

—

As you enter the party, you go about business and try not to stay on the fact that you have just gone through one of the most uncomfortable car rides you’ve ever experienced.

Passing off your jacket and hearing the doors close behind you, your curated smile dims to an imitation of happiness, shoulders drooping. 

Nikto had only touched your arm to guide you along the sidewalk to this more humble residence—not at all like the previous party you’d been to. Every step and click off your heels had welcomed the same nervousness, however. 

You still didn’t know what you were going to do, but right now, it was more important to just calm yourself to a state of taking it moment by moment. If it all came down to it, would you need Nikto to guard you again? Order him to break more bones? Welcome the spray of black fluid and gray meat? 

“Nikto,” you address the Russian as he blinks over, fixing his hold on his M13. He doesn’t like this either—he doesn’t understand why you don’t listen to him and go to events like this. Nonetheless, he’ll follow and steer you clear of any situations you shouldn’t be in. It was his job to watch you, not force your hand.

Pale eyes level with you before they go to survey the foyer. “What is it?” 

“When all of this is over,” you utter, walking forward. “What will you do?”

The Russian pauses, heart stuttering. What would he do? That wasn’t the question he thought you were going to ask, but it’s a welcome distraction from the mess of his head. 

“Go back to KorTac,” he breathes, elbow brushing yours with his voice like rocks. “The contract will be over. I will not be needed anymore, да?”

You tilt your head, licking at the corner of your lips to push back the bead of fear that had settled into your stomach. “That makes sense,” your mind pulls a flat-falling tease. “But who will tell me what color of the paintings on the wall?”

Nikto’s hidden face is a stiff reflection of your own, scars tight. It’s a strange thing, he understands, the pressure on his chest that grows stronger. He’s so used to keeping secrets…why was this so hard for him?

“The blonde woman will be at your side, no doubt,” he grumbles, looking away from the image of your beauty and the silk of your dress. “She will tell you. I am not the only one able to understand the need for it.” Those feathers and pearls make a strung corset of utter angelic purity. 

Blood on my hands. 

He’d already tainted you enough, hadn’t he? When did sex suddenly become important to him? Weighted with…with care. There were so many times he could carelessly get his fill and leave with nothing mattering to him—just another way to get off and forget the formalities of waking up next to someone and making breakfast. 

But wasn’t that exactly what Nikto had willingly done with you? Willingly sat near you for breakfast, willingly allowed you to coax him into bed to be a pillow, willingly touched you? Like a loyal beast, he had. He had. 

You were a horrible creature. A beautiful, lovely, creature. Disgusting. Awe-inducing. As holy and as blasphemous as all of the monsters that sit on his shoulders; the ones he cannot name.

Nikto’s fingers pull into soft fists, and his gloves stretch. He grunts as your face falls a bit at his reply, your head nodding as he clenches his jaw until his molars scream. 

You were messing with his head again. It wasn’t like he wanted you to not understand his motives—he needed to focus. 

“I didn’t think Iakov was like that,” you change the subject as you both awkwardly move into the party, voices moving along the airwaves as you enter the large living room. “I’ve never seen him so angry.”

“Men like that care about money and power,” Nikto answers, keeping your body nearest to the wall as he sticks to your right. “He will never forgive you for letting him lose it.” Pale eyes jump from one set of curious gazes to another. “It is not in his nature. Waste of skill.”

“Isn’t money what everyone wants?” You mutter, staying close to him and nodding politely at those who look your way with digging gazes. “That's why I’m here.”

“You are not the same,” is the swift answer, shifting vision stilling on a man with blond hair that moves through the crowd, camera sitting around his neck as dark eyes meet Nikto’s own. The guard blinks, and the individual is lost to the crowd.

Looking at you, the Russian’s eyes narrow. “You are not selfish, did we not explain ourselves enough earlier?” 

“You said I was good,” you explain slowly. Not good enough to keep?

“I did,” Nikto grunts. “I say what I mean. We do not lie.”

“Too prideful for that,” your mouth pulls into a smile. “Aren’t you, Big Guy?”

His eyes swirl, low amusements littering the pale orbs like a sly cat. “Да, вот именно.” 

You huff, not understanding the words, but knowing they’re agreeing with you. It’s as if a glass wall is dissecting the space between your bodies. You can see Nikto—hear him and feel his presence, but you can’t touch him; can’t get the smudges off without a rag. A blurry mess of black and white, not a slash of color to be understood. 

This separation was thin but still there.

“What aren’t you telling me?” You have to finally push as you stop near the back of the room, as far away from anyone as possible, but it isn’t at all private. Eyes turn and fingers shift over wine glasses. It was quieter here, too. Not so blatant in its display of choking wealth, but still rich if decor was anything to go off of. 

Nikto’s amusement vanishes instantly, and he’s back to a careful blankness.

Stopping as well, he only waits a second before uttering, “I do not tell you many things, Seraph.” 

“You know that’s not what I mean,” you bounce off of him, hands moving up to motion softly as your face twists. Shame hits you in the chest, and you take a shaking breath. “...I knew it would end up being like this if you found out about all of it. All your job stated was a simple protection contract, not some—”

You stop yourself. 

Pale eyes don’t blink once as they keep themselves tight to you. Nikto lets his mind calm before he speaks. “Why are we here?” 

Your brows shift, and you open and close your mouth. “I don’t know. I’m hoping my boss might give me some credit for just showing up and not—”

“Then we are going now,” he growls, attention flying from one prying person to the next. There are too many eyes here—too many ears. Nikto knows who might be lurking. 

“Why,” you lightly push back, chuckling sarcastically. “I’m not in any danger, Nikto. At every turn, there aren’t any stop signs at the side of the road—at least here I have a grab at good wine and company that doesn’t hide the truth from me.”

Pale eyes flare. People start to turn your way. There’s a pause as if there’s something the Russian wants to state, but it fails on lips that you barely see rise from under his balaclava.

“I told you I do not lie, woman,” Nikto grunts, stature ridgid from where it spreads like a steady corruption; a shadow lengthening. 

You had always avoided confrontation—always. You hated it, and, currently, you hated this as well. But the stress was getting to you, the threat of losing everything on top of your own life. Nikto had become a lifeline, and now he was trying to pull back. 

Why?

Your face turns, and you stalk away. “Then do me a favor and stop telling me half-truths.”

—

If steam were able to come out of your ears, you would have filled the room with that heavy layer of your anger. Nikto was still stapled to you—unable to leave after what he now understood might come to fruition at these events if he did. 

So, you both stood. 

Silent.

Stoic.

Unsatisfied.

A dog without a bone left longingly glancing as if its eyes could speak all the words that needed to be explained on a human tongue. 

Your hands push at the base of your skull, massaging the forming headache that had grown from when Iakov had let himself into your hotel. You can’t wait until these parties are over—until you can get another call from the investigators saying that your stalker has been apprehended with Sergi’s statements. There needed to be a happy ending to this; needed. 

This can’t be all your life is meant to be. 

You didn’t come here thinking that you would be sleeping with someone. Currently, as you’re sipping down the second glass of wine brought to you, you can see the head of the man you’re supposed to be attending to. 

Borya Belov, or something close to that. Your coordinator had sent a text, but you’d barely looked at it and the picture attached. Large and middle-aged, he was up and coming in the city, generating impressive amounts of money and influence through his iron and steel plants. He knew your CEO, too—old family friends. 

Your eyes tear themselves away before he can look in your direction, frowning heavily. A rock and a hard place. 

You were foolish if you thought that by you being here it would allow you to keep your job without handing yourself over. It seems you’ve been foolish a lot lately. Your gaze sneaks to look at Nikto and only finds a rigid pole in his place. No under-the-breath jokes or knowing glances. No indecipherable emotions. It was just blank.

Shaking your head lightly, you bring the wine glass to your lips and take a large sip, letting the swell of it fill your mouth before it slips into your throat; tasting the bitter edge. With all of the blatant mess of emotions, it wasn’t any wonder why anyone hadn’t come over to talk to you. 

“All of these things are the same,” you speak to yourself quietly, trying not to sweat as Nikto’s body shifts closer when Iakov walks past the two of you stiffly. The pale-haired man sends you a dark look and you bite your tongue, eyelids narrowing with unease. 

Get dressed, speak gossip, get used, repeat. 

Already the trap had settled, routine following like a pet. 

Your fingers run over the glass in your hand, nails dragging as Nikto’s eyes stare from the side, thighs tightening before he rips his attention back to the party. He grunts and tilts his head, shoulders rolling. 

Focus.

It’s in the atmosphere of a taut rope that you hear the thin conversation from not that far away. 

“Look at him.”

Your ears quirk, but you don’t think of it much as you drink down the last dredges of your wine, licking at the corner of your mouth—careful of the lipstick. It was a group of women all turned into one another, muttering quickly and giggling even more so. 

“Which one?”

“The big bastard, obviously. How much do you think he eats, hm? I’m betting an entire kitchens worth a day.”

Pausing, your spine slowly begins to straighten up, face stuck staring into the wall far across the room. 

“I bet he’s hideous under all of that. Look at the mask—see?”

The round of muffled laughter behind silken gloves makes your heart jerk inside of your ribs as one of the photographers passes by Nikto and you, fiddling with his camera in his hands.

Beside you, the Russian either hears what’s going on and ignores it, or can’t and is simply not moving because he found someone in the crowd to pay attention to. 

Looking over now, you’d place your bet on the first. 

Nikto’s eyes are void, tiny pupils stuck in on themselves as he stares at nothing—his M13 is strangled under the grip of black gloves, and that little sliver of skin you see from his wrist has visible tension in it. He cracks his neck silently, sets his feet, and pretends.

Watching as he’s so apt to do to you, your anger-ridden face steadily freezes the longer your ears strain themselves to hear above the clink of glasses and useless chatter. Work and pleasure are zapped from your mind.

“You think so?”

“I am willing to bet on it—a thing like that is hiding its face because it has to. No soulmate, either. Go up and speak to him; I want to see.”

“But…what if he does have a soulmate? That woman beside him, isn’t that the one from Yekaterinburg? They could be—”

Nikto’s fingers twitch, eyes flashing. 

“If I had a soulmate that had to hide his face from me, I would think he was a beast. No one would want to be within five feet of that.”

Few things made you angry. 

Liars, cruelty, and the rest of the normal points that were on the list everyone keeps. But there was something particularly special about how you hated someone talking about Nikto like that. Forget him hiding something from you, forget his distance and his inability to speak about his emotions—you still cared about him deeply. The words he’d said to you, how he carries himself; his blunt honesty. 

Your heels are hitting the ground before you can remember you’re here to not make a scene.

“Excuse me,” you say, slipping into an easy smile as you nearly trip over your own feet as you settle near the group. All of their eyes widen, some turning around to lock gazes with the sudden arrival. “Could you repeat yourself for me?” You chuckle without humor. “I swear I had thought I heard you talking about my guard over here.”

Your chin moves to allow your eyes to settle over your shoulder, looking back at Nikto who had walked two steps after you initially before seeing where it was you were stomping to. His wide eyelids are snapped back like book covers, darting from you to the women as if utterly confused.

“That one,” you point casually before turning back. “The, uh,” your body leans a bit closer, hand coming up to your grinning mouth, “beast.” 

The gray shade on some of their faces darkened, a few stuttering through a Russian and English jumble of words. 

You blink at them as a familiar shadow begins to sit over you, heavy boots connecting to the floor. Your face burns, but there’s truth in your words—in your conviction. 

“Seraph,” Nikto says quietly in warning. 

“One moment,” is the response he gets. Pale eyes are stuck to the back of your head. He doesn’t know what to do, but in his throat, there’s an airy feeling stuck there that he can’t describe. It swells in his chest first, spreading through his veins.

Nikto was always used to being the one to stand in front of you. 

His heart is pounding, and he doesn’t know how to tell you to stop—that it doesn’t matter. The bigger question he should be asking is if he wants you to. The man wasn’t unused to comments. He can take it. But that fire behind your eyes rendered him speechless.

“His name is Nikto,” you say firmly. “Not that I expect you to remember it,” you tilt your head, looking them up and down. “In fact, I think it would be better if you didn’t.”

Huffing, you’re acutely aware of everyone watching, and your previous anxiety over your work is null. Disgust breeds like death flies. 

None of this was worth it. 

“Nikto,” you utter purposefully, setting your glass down on a side table and stepping behind. One of the Russian’s hands hovers over your back, the weapon resting on his chest clicking as it shifts. “We’re leaving. I don’t know why we came in the first place. There are more important things to worry about.”

“...Understood,” he levels, voice deep. Nikto blinks a few times, face under his mask layered with heat. There was no focusing when it came to you—his iron will was being smoothed down like a rock in water. 

You push past Borya Belov without a glance, looking to the side to see a shock-stricken Iakov burning you with his orbs. There was nothing for you here. 

Heels clicking over the floor, your dress ripples out behind you, unable to think beyond the deep insult you had taken on Nikto’s behalf. What gave those women the right to say anything? Especially about his appearance. 

When physical looks meant so much to you, you dreaded that being placed on someone else as well. Even if it was apparently obvious that Nikto suffered just as you did.

“You did not have to do that, Птичка.” A hand grasps your upper arm and guides you away from the table you were about to run into as you both enter the hallway stiffly. “It does not affect us. Useless opinions—they do not reflect my character.” Jumping only slightly from being ripped from your thoughts, your head darts over. 

You frown into a hidden face, Nikto stuck on the site of your pulled expression. 

Cute, he silently thinks in that jumbled mess of a brain before his memories flash to the sight of that picture on his phone. The hand leaves you in an instant, moving back to his M13.

“I know I didn’t,” you breathe sharply, shaking your head. Closing your eyes, your shoes halt as you stop.

Nikto follows suit, pausing before turning back with a furrow of his brows.

It’s a special thing, the way your desperation bleeds into your sentence. “Will you tell me what’s going on with you, or not?”

He stares, body pausing under your attention. 

“Nikto,” you breathe, far enough away from the main living room to indulge in a bit of horrific truth. “I like being with you,” your words slip. “I mean with you, with you. Y’know? I like you near me—watching over me. I don’t want this to become something that jeopardizes what we’ve built up. I’m not asking for a relationship, or even for you to tell me that you care about me, I just…” you fail to finish, eyes breaking off to glare at the floor; fighting against the sting. “You’re making my head spin,” your words dip lower, and Nikto flinches. “Just…tell me what’s wrong. You’re not acting right, and you’re worrying me.”

You don’t think you’ve been looked at this intently before now. Not by boyfriends, not by flings, or crushes. It’s a bare thing, Nikto’s eyes. A landscape of pale gray tundras and white snow—you don’t know what he’s thinking as he stands there like some Greek statue; Aries personified and dropped right in front of you.

You want that blood of his, that malice and incurable damage. Not to fix it—not to change what’s already scored into flesh—but just to see those eyes soften as they had a handful of times before.  

A war god and a white bird. 

Nikto’s throat bobs in a slow swallow as you finish, pulse hammering as his gloves suddenly constrict his hands far too much. He doesn’t want to tell you. He doesn’t want to explain why his distance is more for his benefit than yours. 

You push once more.

“What are you so afraid of?” 

“You.” He grunts stoic-like, and all of it falls into a swift silence thereafter. Your breath is taken on one great rapturous theft. Nikto stares as your jaw slackens, mind going blank. 

He darts his eyes away and tilts his head. 

“...Come. We do not want to be here any longer.” The Russian’s body is next to yours and in a fast movement, you find yourself being gently prodded along to the front door, jacket grabbed from the side of it and settled over your shoulders. 

Grasping at the corners, this moment is verging on irreparable—you’ve never found yourself so thrown off course besides when the inevitable advances from the stalker had come to you. 

Your hands shake in unsteady intervals as you blankly stare ahead. 

Me? 

The car is cold when you get into it, pulling your jacket closer as you slip across the seat—Nikto grabbing the long trail of your dress and making sure it stays inside. The man sits next to you, grabbing and slamming the door with a fist thumping the window twice. 

Under you both, the engine starts up and the tires push against the concrete. 

Your eyes ogle Nikto, and not once do they leave them even as the Russian pointedly ignores you by keeping his head locked forward. His body moves to the turning of the car, and your phone in your jacket pocket is going wild with call after call as his feet shift to steady himself unconsciously. It’s all a blur of needless sound and emotion. 

“Me?” Your voice finally finds itself; breathless. 

Nikto doesn’t react, spine so straight, the seats of the vehicle don’t touch anything. His fingers over his gun twitch before he grasps the cold metal harder to stop them. 

The Russian tries to halt the way his eyes want to gravitate to meet yours, trying to think over every face from the party and who had made any attempts to get near to you; just in case something pops up tonight. Yet, the hitting pain in his ribs is akin to something ripping them open with a fork, mutilating an entrance to his heart just to take and grasp it in soft hands.

He was never taught gentle love. Nikto was taught to grab and rip at it, to claw into it with fangs until there was blood on his face, seeping down his throat to settle in his stomach—hoping it might find a way to spread to his soul. 

Iakov had a key, the man catalogs, trying to fight his quivering fingers as you just can’t seem to look away from him with those eyes of yours. Does he have motive? Perhaps. We need to add him to the list regardless. I did not see any repeating faces from last night here unless they were in another room or waiting outside. 

Pale attention briefly pauses to the driver of the car, strong jaw clenching.

Drivers? Stylists? Who else could be here and not be noticed even by me? 

Eyes flash to the previous party again, back to the crunch of bone under his grip. Hands trailing flesh, ripped lace, and silk that pools at his dress shoes. The feral rubbing of a gun between two panting bodies. It should have been enough stress relief for the both of you—Nikto wasn’t lying when he equated the affair to something he could look past. He wasn’t new to flings; he considered himself a master of them in his youth. It wouldn’t have made him think any differently about the job, except for that one pin-pointed problem:

He was right behind us. 

Nikto’s mouth goes dry, anger brewing. He blinks to stare out the window, and your gaze is still present as if a knife to his throat.

It doesn’t leave once.

—

The hotel room is seeped in an eerie level of silence. 

You’d long since called Iakov—said a firm and swift answer of, “I’m done with the parties,” and hung up before the yelling could start again. 

You’re not even sure if you still have your job at AMA, but that’s for a later date, it seems. Not having an income was worse than the emotional turmoil that had settled right on your chest.

Leaning in the window seat of the bedroom, you keep your legs tucked in close to you with the curtain stuck at your back, head resting against the glass. White lights twinkle, but the places that aren’t illuminated are too dark to focus on—an amalgamation of shadows like a veil. The night was always difficult for you and your sight, but right now you think it’s best to just sit here and stare, even if it’s at nothing. 

Your eyes drag slowly along the thin view of the street below, feeling the cold seep in through the glass, softly easing the headache that pulses at your temple. 

“He’s…afraid of me?” The door to the room is slightly ajar, a sliver of light from the living room making its way in. Your face twists. “What does that mean?” 

You pose no threat to him without something like a gun, so it couldn’t be that. And what had changed since this morning? He’d let you lay next to him—see a part of his face. You’d traced his tattoo with willing fingers; Nikto hadn’t pushed you away then. 

What had happened? 

There’s a small squeak of the metal hinges of the bedroom door, and your head rises quickly. 

Nikto stands there, in only a white button-down shirt and his dress pants; normal mask re-stiuated. Blinking gently, a thick pause emanates before you glance down at his hands and see a soft display of an olive branch. 

The gruff hired gun holds a tiny, white, tea-cup. 

“Magnolia,” he huffs, not moving an inch as he motions with his hand, the ceramic material clinking. 

You stare, oversized shirt all to cover you besides your undergarments. You’d long since lost the sense of embarrassment of bare skin—particularly yours. 

Pale eyes slip to caress the image of your flesh bathed in the sliver of warm light, your curious eyes stuck on him as his feet re-situated themselves. 

“You remembered?” You ask, trying to sound casual beyond the surprise. 

Nikto blinks, voice muffled. “I do not forget when it comes to you,” he hums, accent thick. “Drink.”

Softly standing, your bare feet hit the coldness of the floor, yet you feel it little. Walking over to stand in front of him, your hand reaches only to bounce off the small tea plate instead, fingers flinching back lightly from the miscalculation. Your face heats, and you’re about to utter a quick apology before Nikto’s hand captures yours. 

Gasping under your breath, the warmth that seeps through his glove goes bone-deep as he manually wraps your digits around the handle. Nikto grunts in satisfaction and lets you take it to you, keeping the plate which he lowers his hand with.

After a moment, you clear your throat and say while staring down at the liquid, “Where did you get this?”

“Bag.” Your brows tighten.

He sighs gently. “We packed it. You forgot, yes?” 

“Oh,” you nod. “Yeah, I didn’t even realize I had left it behind. Thank you, Nikto.”

The Russian nods once, and then pivots to walk back to the living room, leaving you standing there as the sound of rummaging items in the kitchen echoes. Holding the mug, the tea rippling under your unsteady grasp, your head shakes itself in slow exasperation. The man wouldn’t talk about this unless you pushed him…but would that break the unsteady relationship you’d been trying to build?

“All of this is so confusing,” your lips mutter before your body follows after Nikto, slipping out into the light of the room as you blink rapidly in response. 

Locking sights on Nikto as he cleans up the counter, your form is wracked with an impending sense of nervousness. Damn him and his mask—you didn’t have something you could hide your emotions behind. 

It was times like these when you wished your mother was warm enough to ask advice from, that your father wasn’t back in the USA with limited involvement due to the peaceful contact order. You were alone here, except for Aly. But this was something that only a parent could help you with, and you were fresh out of those. You doubted that your mom knew everything going on—you weren’t about to tell her you’d allowed a ruthless killer to get you off in a storage room after you’d seen him snap a man's wrist back. 

Nor that you enjoyed it. 

It falls on me, your breath is thin as you breathe it down, steadily moving to set the teacup to one of the many tables holding useless decorations. You scowl at the boring interior design unconsciously before your focus locks in. 

What you had to do was bring up your points clearly and smoothly—

“Why are you standing there doing nothing,” your eyes widen as Nikto fluidly turns to look over his shoulder directly at you. His gaze narrows behind Kevlar and canvas. “If you want to say something, speak.”

“I want you to tell me what’s gotten you acting like a constipated bear,” you blurt out. 

It’s almost funny the way his eyes flinch. 

Nitko grinds out, “We do not understand.”

“You do,” you huff, crossing your arms as your voice bounces off the walls. “I don’t have infinite patience, believe it or not.” Inside of your sockets, you feel your gaze soften; voice lowering to the level you’d raised it. “I think I’ve been honest with you, Nikto. I’m not trying to push you into a corner. You know that. I need an explanation,” you take a breath, “and you’re going to give it to me.” 

Pale eyes move to the side, and you visibly see the large Russian’s body fighting itself both internally and externally. You had noticed a few things from the time you’d come under his protection, some obvious—Nikto valued cooking and a clean place to rest; he liked reading, and a silence built on mutual respect. Nikto’s fingers twitched when he was either nervous or trying to focus. He tilted his head when he needed to think. 

You liked to think that you knew him quite well, despite it all. You especially knew his fraying patience. 

Nikto’s shoulders roll, bones cracking from under the button-up. His masked face is the only thing he feels gives him protection. A cover. 

“It is not something,” the man begins slowly, trying to convince you, “that you need to concern yourself with.” 

Your lips thin out, feet taking you forward as you shiver from the cold of the hotel. 

“Nikto,” you utter again, softly knocking your side into the counter before you can stand in front of him yourself. He looks down at you, chest moving up and down in slow breaths. 

You know the horrors that live under that fabric. The great scars—the burns that had slipped into your dreams as you’d laid on his thigh like a child afraid of the dark. You can remember the dips of them under your fingertips; the trauma that bleeds still. 

You’d called him beautiful, and of course you had, but the very base of it still left you cold with a betraying sense of sickness. Same with the lower half of his face, which you’d only chosen to see a glance of. It was a deep rolling of your stomach. You cared more for the marks he had put on, willingly, himself; the tattoos. Dark ink.

But that didn’t stop you from reaching out to him—responding to that addictive pull that had always seemed to be there from the moment you’d first met him in the Consulate Building. 

Your fingers hover over Nikto’s pec, right above his heart as you swallow saliva and stare with parted lips. Piercing eyes give way to nothing, but there’s a knowledge in the heart that beats above your waiting touch. 

You tilt your head and wait silently.

Nikto’s pulse moves his flesh, and he can feel every drop of blood under his skin. 

“It does not need to be explained to you,” he tries again, his firm words now only comparable to the sensation of rocks thrown along the sand. Salt-stained throat raw as your fingers brush his shirt. “Seraph,” Nikto attempts a tone of authority.

“Call me by the other one,” you mutter, and it’s pathetic the way he responds to your request in that hotel kitchen. Like a soldier following an order. A whining little dog beholden to a white-lace collar.

“Птичка.”

Your smile makes him want to rip himself away from you and take a cold shower, maybe stare at his scars; even break his mind again before it slips away to thoughts of your curling lips and your shining eyes. 

“That’s it,” you whisper, and your hand flattens over his heart as his gaze breaks away to the simple contact, blinking in confusion as his flesh pulls tight. “That’s the one.” 

But he was more surprised when he didn’t flinch rather than when he shivered. 

It’s only after a small moment of nothing that he lets himself bathe in the warmth of your skin and the scent of your perfume as it slips under his mask. A mask that has seen far too much death for you to bear. Then he’d want you to bear.

Your words make his bones ache.

“Tell me,” you urge, as perfect as a bird’s dew-coated feathers.

Nikto’s vision is stuck only to you, and his greatest fear is that this is all it will ever be bound to—not by honor, the man had no such thing, but by utter devotion. There was no lying about it now as his lips parted, those cut and torn-up things like a ragged jigsaw puzzle of pain. He cares not about soulmates or brain trauma. Blood or bile.

He cares about the sound a silent grave will make when his bones are the ones that chain themselves to rest beside yours. 

Mutt.

Now that, maybe, would seem an honor-coated title to carve into his corpse, but only if it was in reference to his affection for you.

“Picture,” Nikto grinds out, fighting to step closer to the addictive sensation of your touch. The warmth. The pound of blood. You listen silently, and not once do those eyes separate.

“Sent to my phone.” He pauses, and suddenly his voice is very low—you can feel it in your chest as it rumbles the walls, the floors; the bedroom door. It’s difficult to say how you feel when he explains it to you, there’s something relieving in knowing, though. Yet, it still makes your throat close in on itself. “Of us.”

“From the stalker?” You ask, already knowing the answer but hoping it might have just been a fluke. 

Pale eyes don’t blink.

“Да. From him.”

You take a large breath, nodding as your fingers quiver over Nikto’s dress shirt, creasing the fabric slightly. He takes a quick glance down at them again, and his own twitch at his sides.

“...Don’t tell me the details?”

“Never,” the Russian sighs, clenching his jaw. “Я бы этого не сделал. We did not want to explain, regardless.” 

You shrug as well as you’re able, hand beginning to slowly slide off of him. “Still,” your lips pull into a steady smirk, though it lacks enough amusement to make it convincing. “I’m glad you told me—I was getting worried that it might have been by fault you were acting strange.” 

“My emotions are,” Nikto struggles for the correct word in English, grunting as his mouth closes under his mask. He glares at the wall behind you as if a toddler without a snack.

You tilt your skull, tiny chuckles wafting out of your mouth. 

“Stuck, Big Guy?”

“Enough,” he grumbles, feet re-situating themselves from under him. 

Your hand is only a millimeter away from his flesh before his grip finds your wrist and brings it back, digits caressing to press into your pulse. You blink quickly, air getting stalled in your nose. 

Nikto’s eyes slowly dip to stare at your hand, and you notice the shades even more clearly now that you’re so close to him—though they’d always just be pale gray to you, there were moments when you wondered the true color. A silly dream, seeing as you wouldn’t know how that color would look anyway, but, still. 

The Russian’s large fingers turn your wrist. 

“Your heart is racing,” he mutters. If having your bodyguard check your pulse was something that you found attractive, now was only the realization of it. 

Your face suddenly feels like you’re walking on the sun, and a small noise in the back of your throat makes Nikto’s attention leave the fast thump of your blood.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Your breathless question eases out past your lips like a soft flutter of wings. 

“Hm,” Nikto hums, and you can also see his throat bobbing. His hold squeezes, his face looming just the tiniest bit closer to yours. 

The Russian takes a chest-rising inhale and speaks.

“I am not good,” he mutters, eyes moving the dips and drags of your face—it feels like his gaze is touching you when he stares like that; studying your visage as if he’d be tested on it. “We are not…” He blinks, and his pupils are small voids of inky corruption. “Perfect.” 

You wonder how often he’d found you in his mind, and feel both foolish and hopelessly lost in his shadow.

“I never said you were,” you murmur back, seeing the wickedness in his heart. Painted on his skin. “I think it’s lovely.” 

Here is where this should end—you’d both had your fun previously. You’d been sipping your sugar water like a little hummingbird; reveling in the intimacy of that storage room. You should be thinking about the stalker, about your job, about what will happen tomorrow when you open your eyelids to light through the curtains. 

Not about how Nikto’s fingers would feel digging into your hips. Not the panting of fast breaths. Not how the color of his eyes would be, perhaps, the most beautiful shade you could ever hope to imagine in your damaged brain. 

“Nikto,” you breathe, body light. He’s as still as a statue above you, not saying a thing. “What color are your eyes?”

“Blue.”

And then you’re being picked up as if a doll by the back of your thighs and hefted up with a throaty huff akin to a boar. Your forehead connects with his, and your arms wrap his neck to hang off with crossed wrists. 

“Blue?” Your legs tighten around his waist, squeezing as the man’s nose pushes into yours. Breath bounces off the mask, your eyes flutter at the firm press of fabric prodding at your underwear. You fight a small whine, bodies tight to one another. “Your hair?”

“Brown,” is the puff from under the mask, and tiny pupils dilate the longer you hold eye contact.

Your hips roll, and Nikto’s strained grunt reverberates against your chest. “Tell me it in Russian.”

“Карие.” He growls, fingertips digging into your flesh like the teeth of a bear trap. Nikto thumps past the place where you’d set your tea, completely forgotten by everyone just like the previous tension was. 

When the two of you were together, things managed to get out of hand quickly—at least, emotionally-wise. You both were utterly hopeless, just as the room was now far from the cold monochrome wash of white. It was bathed in spraying sparks lit behind your eyes when one of Nikto’s hands staples itself to the base of your back, just above the curve of your tailbone, and angles your core further into the growing prod of his erection. 

You gasp as your pelvis jerks, face twisting up with your pulse impossibly increasing. 

“You are curious,” Nikto pants, pushing past the bedroom door with a shoulder as the handle smashes into the wall. Not that you care. “You push me, Woman. Leave my head loose and my body aching.” You feel the way your core burns, aches, nearly, as your underwear gets wet with the anticipation of flesh. 

Your lips sear Nikto’s soul when they push to the canvas of his mask—just as they had in the storage room though now it’s harder to feel. 

“Don’t act like you don’t like it, Big Guy,” you whisper, tongue darting out to lick at your lips, eyes half-lidded. 

That pull between the two of you only seems to increase as you’re dropped back to the bed, head pointedly planned to slap a pillow as you involuntarily gasp. Your shirt is ruffled up to your breasts, and the sheets are around you like a cocoon of expensive finery—eyes darting to Nikto, you find his gaze easily standing beside the bed. 

He stares at you like you’re the greatest meal ever placed in front of him. Forget the items he cooks, forget the things he’d eaten, even forget the way it satisfies him; nothing could compare to even the thought of what he now has. 

You’re staring at a man with blood on his hands and wishing he would spread you open already. 

Nikto’s chest bounces with a pleased noise, gaze shifting to study your bare legs and arms—the stain that coats your underwear, spreading by the second as your thighs tighten in on themselves to trap the chill. Your face is on fire, and your lungs heave.

His ravaged hand grasps at your knee, coaxing them back open as he says a simple order with a raw voice, “Keep them open.” 

You’re not embarrassed with how you listen, letting the limbs be forced back to display your instinctual need to the large Russian. Your thin whine is choked back as his fingers run up and down your clothed core, teasing. 

Nikto chuckles, and you shiver. 

“We do like it,” he breathes out in response to your previous comment. Pale eyes dart to find and lock with yours—not leaving as his index and middle finger find your clit, pressing firmly and lightly rocking up and down. Your hips jerk as you bite on a shocked moan, relishing in the sudden ricochets of electricity that run your bones. 

Head tilting back, you bite your lip and pant out, “Nikto, yes.”

His fingers leave just as quickly as the words do you, and your desperate eyes move with near pain until your hand darts to grapple onto Nikto’s wrist like a cat. He lets you try and guide him back firmly, to no avail, before you grit your teeth and glare at him, opening your mouth.

Yet, the Russian’s hidden face finds your ear with no trouble and leaves your upcoming words frozen.

“But we like it better when you are too choked on pleasure to think at all.” 

Nikto moves back, taking his other hand and making yours release him before he steps away. He blinks, watching your aroused state as you stutter over your sentence; smirking to himself and tilting his head as if you’re an exhibit in a museum. The man grunts, now free grip able to slide to his belt slowly and fiddle with the buckle.

“Y-you’re horrible,” you grumble, eyes unable to stay on the image for long before you have to slash it away so you can breathe. The clinking of metal

“We did warn you,” Nikto pauses, his voice so laced with smugness that it seemed an insult. “Птичка.” 

Your lower body shifts, trying to satiate the urge for stimulation. 

Breathing heavily, you raise your forearm and put it over your eyes, expression tight as you try and focus. Your ears twitch to Nikto’s steady undressing, hearing the pull of dress pants and the unclipping of a thigh holster. Each sound sends a pulse directly to your weeping slit, and it becomes so strong that Nikto can only watch as your other hand slips under the elastic of your panties. 

He stops himself instantly, his eyes pulling back as he pauses. Slipped out of everything besides his shirt, boxers, and obviously his mask, Nikto’s shoulders tense wildly at the sight in front of him.

Your body is tight as you begin to breathe heavier, lips slightly open as your fingers idly roll your bundle of nerves a bit harder. Hips jerking every so often, your fingers stretch the fabric of your garment as your toes curl. 

“Fuck,” you breathe, jaw clenching and eyes closed from under your forearm. 

Nikto is firmly planted, the firmness in his boxers now seemingly to a point of no return—his fingers twitched to dig into your skin, his eyes stuck to how you were playing with yourself. Clothed in only a large shirt that was bunching up further to allow a glimpse of your breasts and hearing those tiny little noises escape your mouth…

“Harder,” Nikto grunts, his own hand slipping into his boxers as he hisses in pleasure at the state of himself. Firm in his grip as he wraps his fingers around the hot pulse of his cock, groaning when his thumb slips along his tip to collect the beads of pre-cum.

Your breath hitches and through your soft pants, you sigh as your arm slides, “I think I know how to—”

Your fingers twitch harshly as your eyes flutter open to lock onto the scene in front of you, causing you to moan before it strangles off with a quick noise in your throat. Eyes wide, you watch Nikto begin jerking himself off one slow stroke at a time, his thighs tense as his other hand moves to unbutton his shirt one at a time.

There was something so inherently intimate about seeing the other in the throws of self-pleasure, half-clothed and desperate for something that can’t be named. The chain of events was building, and some concerns needed to be addressed, but it isn’t fair to have to put your life on hold for them—necessary, yes, eventually. But Nikto’s eyes were so hellishly pale, and your hands were shaking, and the scent of sex was permeating inside of your nose. It’s different than the storage room, it’s hinged on the knowledge that this bear of a man is afraid of you, which in and of itself is unfathomable, and that he was in such a sour mood simply because he had been trying, once more, to spare you from the unseen threat. 

He had done it with the birds in the box, he’d done it when you’d gotten the first pictures sent to you, and he did it every time he let you hang off of his arm. 

You push your digits across your clit harder and whine out as Nikto’s open dress shirt slips to his waist, the cuffs rolled up as bare skin meets the darkness of the room. That sliver of light from the door was all that was needed, the barrier having slowly crawled its way back from where the Russian had shoved it, to witness the bulge and dip of scar tissue—the shades of hyperpigmentation. 

And you wanted to drag your nails along all of them.

“Смотреть на себя,” Nikto’s chest heaves, the bulk of his frame just the same as when you’d touched along his back. His hand inside of his boxers stutters, and his eyes flinch closed for a moment, masked face tilted. “Хорошим слушателем. Good for us, hm?”

“Touch me,” you ask, unconsciously mirroring Nikto’s pace as the sensitivity of your core heightens, leaking out to stain your underwear to the point it’s no use to keep them after this. Your spine is tight—begging to be arched just as your cunt begs to be filled. It tightens over nothing, and you whimper with a push of thin breath. “Please, Nikto, you filled me so well last time.”

His eyes glint, that Russian pride bleeding to fill the cup in his abdomen. Nikto smirks, but you can’t see it above the large hand that goes to grip your face, angling it to him as his other hand continues with the wet slapping of his cock. You want to see it—you want to watch it. Damn him he’s making this into a game of cat and mouse.

“What is that? You like when we fill your tight cunt, Птичка?”

Your face burns, and your eyes study his own as your pace below increases—rotting wood taking root beside sweat and pheromones. 

Nikto’s grip squeezes and you hear the rutting of flooded skin more clearly as he looms over your body, both fucking yourselves for no other reason than liking the sight and the sounds of the other.

“Answer.”

“Yes,” you stutter, unable to stop the thin noises from your mouth that follow—the cord in your abdomen pulling until taunt. “God, yes.”

“Not God,” the Russian chuckles before he groans, forehead connecting with yours as it rocks to the rabid abuse of his own hand, trying to imagine the sensation of your walls against them instead of his calloused fist. Your flesh would be softer than his ever could be, and the knowledge of that is enough to reduce him to a mindless beast. His breath hitches tightly, his hand moving rapidly, unconcerned about how fast his release is finding him just by hearing your little pleas. “No, Seraph, there is no God in this room.”

When he drinks down the sounds you give him he feels your body tense one final time, your lips flattening as your eyes flutter—only seconds away from your orgasm, perhaps. 

Nikto’s hands leave your face, and so does his forehead. You barely notice, truth be told until it’s not a second later that fingers are gripping the hand down your panties and dragging it out just as your hips begin rising off the bed. 

“No!” Your desperate keen echoes off the walls, eyes snapping open to rip your head down to the scene. Nikto was lacking his shirt, boxers are gone, and as he staples your arm beside your head, his body drags itself atop yours until his weight is as firm as stone. “Nikto, why did you—?”

“Hush,” he utters, knocking your leg up over his hip in a swift thrust that leaves the leaking tip of his dick prodding against your sopping cunt. Your eyelids flutter at the sensation, painting only to have your breasts shove into a sweaty chest.

“So close,” you beg, the feeling of your release draining away, leaving you irritated and unsatisfied. 

Your hips roll in a play to find friction, and the feeling of Nikto’s happy trail seems promising as you grind up into it, but there’s only so much you can do when the man’s other hand snags your waist and pushes you down.

You glare heatedly up into blown and smug eyes. 

You know better than to ask him to remove the mask, and now that you look at it, maybe that wasn’t the worst thing in the world. There was something alluring in those eyes, set into the dark void around them, deadly and numb, yet showing more emotions than anyone else would be able to tell besides you. 

“Let us help,” Nikto pushes himself up, grinding into your core as your glare breaks away into blown need. “I have something better than fingers. Show you how good it can be, yes? Show how you are supposed to be treated, Little Bird.”

Your hands slide up to his shoulder blades and he groans under his breath, taking in the sensation of nails along flesh, catching on the scars until they settle. Had he not imagined this before? Had he not fantasized? Desired? Sinful, yes, but he’d do it again if he could still feel the wet fluids of your arousal coating his abdomen. If this was the outcome of Nikto becoming locked in his own stoic emotions, there was a part of him that was greedy because of it.

There was no possible way that this was going to continue…right? 

His ears twitch to your voice as your legs shift to wrap the top of his hips, dragging his pelvis ever closer until he’s fighting the wave of agony by not having your cunt pulse around him. 

On your part, there wasn’t an ounce of hesitation.

“Then show me.”

It’s easy to slip the tip of himself inside of you—there’s enough fluid to render even the thought of dry friction impossible. Nikto's body shudders at the sensation, though it’s only a small portion of what you both need.

Your head rocks back, fingertips digging into the Russian’s shoulders as you both curse at the stretch of your folds. You hadn’t been able to gawk at the build of the man tonight—both too desperate for release—but thinking about how he gives small thrusts to help himself along, his eyes not moving from you unless to blink, you’d safely say he was well-endowed.

“Fuck,” your lips quiver, sweat at your brow. Through the whimper, you moan, a large thumb finding your clit and rolling as the sound of squelching echoes between the groans and whines. You’re both nothing but damn animals. “Could have,” you gasp, and Nikto stops before you shake your head and pull him closer. “Could have given a girl a warning, Big Guy.”

His strained chuckle only makes your core welcome him more, and the feeling of textured veins and warm flesh steadily driving itself home was addicting. Sex had never felt as fun as this. As safe.

Nikto made it safe.

“Apologies,” he grunts out, great form above you before you feel the nested base of his pelvis connect with yours. 

You both shake and your face is open with a pleasure-driven emotion as the Russian slides his head to your shoulder, his breath echoing from under his mask into your ear. He licks his lips, grip on your waist and arm pulsing with steady intervals of—tense, release, tense, release…

“Are you—”

“Fucking hell, please start moving,” you gasp out, grinding into him as the string on Nikto’s caution flees like a loose animal. 

His hand travels back from your waist to your hip, the other to the back of your neck, and as he staples his forehead to yours, he grinds out a quiet, “да,” and moves himself out of you nearly all the way as your eyes roll to the feeling. 

When the bed starts knocking the wall, there’s little to the imagination as to what’s taking place, and the steadily rising sounds mean nothing as sheets rustle and skin slaps faster, both sensitive from such near releases earlier. There are mutters in Russian, fast, harsh things that hold no venom—slow mutters that make your legs go numb long after both of you had finished. 

Nikto was right: for such a brute, he did know how to treat a woman. Well, maybe he just knew how to treat you right. 

Multiple times.

TAGS:

@anna-banana27, @random-thot-generator, @midwesternwitchery, @pumpkinwitchcrusade, @halfmoth-halfman, @alpineswinter, @blingblong55, @cryingnotcrying, @lxne20, @not-eclipse, @theecoffeebean, @phoenixhalliwell, @h3ll-guttz, @tiinkerbell, @genjilvr, @azush4rp, @escapefromrealitysm, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @finnigansxz, @cowboybaby2, @delaynew, @doggydale, @zapphir, @littlemisstrouble, @xxtmoe, @grizzersmamma, @andreas-river, @blogdddxx, @jade-jax, @emthegrace, @lovebugmsyd, @makariaspresence, @noisyprofessorhoundsalad-blog, @scythebot, @blueoorchid, @kra-rino4ka, @caramlizedtomatoes, @strawberymilk,@frazie99, @homicidal-slvt, @develised, @crispyhusband, @cathnoneofyourbusiness, @ghostslittlegf, @generalcloudtraveler, @azsteris, @rvjaa, @creminemisinthehizzyforshizzboy, @comsyki

#ravishing allure #cod #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #x female reader #call of duty x you #mwii nikto #nikto x reader #cod nikto #nikto #cod modern warfare #call of duty mw2 #cod mw22 #mw2 2022 #mw2 #call of duty x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #call of duty mwii #cod x female reader #x fem!reader #female reader

[rivatar]

Do you still hate me?

MDNI!!🔞

w/c: 2.7k

Pairing: Aged!Up!Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Warnings: explicit smut, enemies to lovers, reference of rape, fist fighting, mean Neteyam, dominant Neteyam, cussing, some degrading/dirty talk, porn w plot, I think that’s it??

Summary: enemies to loverssss w Neteyam! Lo’ak is your best friend and it’s caused a rift between you and Neteyam. Hatefulness turns into desire.

A/n: Hey guys! Just wanna let everyone know that I’m only gonna be writing porn w plot lol. So all my character are aged up. I like to have a backstory that builds up the tension, I think it’s so much better but I’m sorry if you think it’s too long or it’s not your thing! Also PLEASE send me ALL your requests and I will do them but please note that I’m only gonna be doing pairings with Jake, Neteyam, and Lo’ak. Enjoy!! 😘

“Hey, wait up!” you call out to Lo’ak. You two were exploring the forest of Pandora, a pastime you’ve both always enjoyed since you were little kids.

“Keep up loser! Not waiting on your skxawng ass!” he yells, not looking back and continuing to run and leap along the terrain.

You and Lo’ak were best friends, platonic soulmates really. Y’all were known for your mischievous behavior and carefreeness, though it’s toned down a lot now at your ages, you being 20 and him being 21. He liked to tease you and call you a baby although he was only older by a few months. Typical Lo’ak behavior.

Growing up you could always count on him for a good time, he was always making you laugh and cutting up with you after your daily schooling and duties were done. The grown ups and your parents would tease you both that you would grow up to be mates. You both thought ‘ewwww’ to that and still do. You loved him very much but not in that way. You were never jealous over each other, you both could talk about your crushes and so forth. There was a sense of respect in your friendship, and being okay that you were just friends and y’all truly didn’t want to ruin that friendship with anything romantic.

Now huffing and puffing and hunching over to catch your breath, you finally caught up to him since y’all were at the edge of the cliff now, right beside a waterfall. It was beautiful.

You stepped to the edge and he playfully tapped you as if pretending to push you off. You get into a play stance and aim to grab his tail. “Skxawng!” you laugh.

“Coming from you?!” he counters. “Hey, mom said she was making teylu tonight, your favorite. Come eat?”

You consider it for a second. Your parents often complained you were at the Sully’s too much, especially when Lo’ak invited you for dinner. And there was also gonna be Neteyam over there… the grumpiest asshole who often tested your patience. But you thought of the mouth-watering teylu and forgot about everything else.

“I guess so. Not because you asked but because I want teylu.” you teased. He just rolled his eyes with a smile and you two headed back to the Sully’s hut.

…

Back at the hut, you and Lo’ak entered in. “Y/n! I’m glad to see you, will you help me finish dinner?” Neytiri asked. She’s always liked you. “Of course!” you smiled.

After you two finished making dinner, she called everyone to come gather to eat in a circle. You took your usual place next to Lo’ak. Then Neteyam walks into the room. He makes eye contact with you and instantly tenses up. He looks away and resumes his broodiness. He was always like this around you. You would catch him laughing and being carefree around others, but it seemed like he absolutely hated you. Like your presence just sickened him. You couldn’t understand why though, all you ever were was nice to him. So now you do hold a grudge against him as all your efforts to be nice have done nothing.

Everyone ate dinner and made small talk about their days. You avoided eye contact with Neteyam of course. “Thank you for dinner mom, it’s delicious.” Neteyam says. “Thank you son but y/n helped me with it, she deserves some appreciation too!” Neytiri chirps.

Neteyam slowed his chewing and looked over at you. “Thank you, y/n” he mumbles. The tension is palpable and the silence is awkward. Everyone knows Neteyam doesn’t take well to you, though they don’t understand why.

After dinner, everyone starts cleaning and doing their own thing as they get ready for bed and settle down. You were looking for Lo’ak and about to cut the corner as you heard him and Neteyam speaking. You freeze and listen closely.

“Why do you always bring her for dinner? You know it’s family time. And plus don’t you ever get tired of being with her all the time?” Neteyam spits.

“Bro, why do you hate her so much? She’s done nothing to you and she’s my friend. Get over yourself,” Lo’ak storms away and before you can move your hiding spot, he runs right into you. You were definitely caught listening and he sees your hurt face. He ushers you away where Neteyam can’t hear or see you and starts trying to calm you. It doesn’t work much and you decide to just head home since you feel so unwanted there. Lo’ak offers to walk you back but you decline and say you want to blow off some steam on your walk by yourself.

…

As you were walking, all these thoughts were going through your head. You were distracted and not paying attention to your surroundings. Then you hear chuckling and low voices. You turn around and see two guys who you recognize but don’t know their names.

“Hey pretty girl, what’re you doing out here so late and all alone?”

The other one approaches you and you try to back up but are backed into a tree. He slides his finger underneath the strap of your top and smiles menacingly at you. “It seems like she wants some attention, huh? Like she’s asking for it..” they chuckle.

Your eyes are wide with fear and adrenaline is coursing through your veins as the realization sets in that you are in serious danger. You regret not letting Lo’ak walk you home.

Then suddenly the one closest to you is stripped away and falls to the ground. It takes you a minute to recognize who it is now punching him ruthlessly and you see that it’s… Neteyam?

The other one tries to get Neteyam off his friend but then he gets sucker punched into the oblivion. You’re just gawking but then finally snap into reality. “Neteyam, stop!!”

He hears your plead and stops. He raised up slowly and is peering down at the guys with their faces bleeding now. “Stay the fuck away from her or next time I’ll kill you both.”

They scatter off and don’t say a word. You’re breathing heavy because a lot just happened. You glance at Neteyam and he holds your gaze as his chest heaves up and down. He turns and starts walking away. Where is he going after what just happened??

“Neteyam, wait!” You run up and grab his arm to turn him to you. His eyes bore into your soul. There’s just a moment of silence as you try to think of the words to say.

“T-thank you for saving me… from those guys” You look down at the ground because you can’t hold his intense eye contact.

He barely nods his head in response and backs away. “You shouldn’t be out here alone this late. Stupid girl. And maybe you should put some more clothes on, you leave nothing to the imagination” He scolds.

Stupid? This was his fault! And commenting on your lack of clothes?? Hell no. “Then next time don’t save me, mighty warrior.” You mocked. “I don’t need you and you don’t impress me like you do everyone else. And you’re not the boss of me”

He just chuckled. “No but if you were mine you would know who was boss.” He towered over you.

Huh? This is outrageous and the most you and Neteyam have ever talked and this is how it goes??

“You’re CRAZY” you shout and push him hard on his chest. “I hate you.” You push him again.

His ears fold back. He can’t hold back anymore.

He grabs both your forearms and pulls you all the way to him and bends down to your ear. “You know what, sevin? I hate you too.” He pulls back and his eyes lock on yours. “I hate how bad I’ve wanted you for so long and you would never even look my way. Too occupied with my brother. I bet you’ve already let him fuck you. I could almost kill him for the fact you’ve always chosen him and not me.” He’s near trembling from a mixture of anger, hurt, and desire.

The truth was he hated seeing you with Lo’ak so much because it was a constant reminder that you weren’t with him. It frustrated him that Lo’ak was the one who got to spend time with you and make you laugh. It should be him, not his baby brother.

His confession has you dizzy, confused and breathless. You couldn’t believe what he just said and questioned if you were in a dream for a second. But no, this was real. Your body was betraying you by being hot all over from his scent in your nose and his breath falling on your skin.

His eyes are searching yours for answer, for anything. You really are just speechless though. He sighs and let’s go of you, ashamed. He goes to walk away and you grab him again to swing him around toward you.

“I’m sorry…” you reach up to hold his cheek with a light touch. “I didn’t know…” your voice cracks a little. “You should’ve told me, you idiot.” You pause for a second, “Lo’ak has not had me. Nobody has.” You confess.

You feel like you’re having an out of body experience but it feels so right. Maybe you were too tired but you honestly felt that Neteyam was being genuine. This realization quickly turned into need.

You go up on your toes to surprise him with a kiss. It’s sweet and warm. You loved the taste of him. You wanted more.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I have handled this wrong and I am an idiot.”

He swooped back down to press another kiss on you. You open your mouth a little to let his tongue swipe in. The feeling goes straight down to your core that’s gaining more and more slick.

He pulls back and takes a deep breath in. “I smell you, tiyawn. You smell like heaven.” You blush at the fact that your body can’t lie to him. You do want him, want him bad. Even after all his bullshit. But you decided to put your pride aside.

“I need you, Neteyam. Please” you beg. His eyes turn from gentle to dark. Not in the way you’re used to seeing, but dark in a way that was primal. Like a predator watching it’s prey.

“Are you sure?”

You nod yes. He wastes no time and swoops you up bridal style. You look at him with questioning eyes as to where you’re going. “What’s the matter, sevin? Thought I was gonna take you right here for everyone to hear and see?”

…

Once he finds a nice secluded spot with cushiony moss, he lays you down swiftly on it.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” he lowers himself on you and plants sloppy kisses on your neck and collar bone. Your breath quickens.

“You’ve no idea how long you’ve visited me in my dreams” he kisses lower, hand snaking up under your top to reveal your breasts.

“Fuck” he breathes. He squeezes his eyes shut and his head drops down. “I could almost cum at the sight of you”

He latched onto one nipple, gently nibbling on it with his teeth. He takes the other in his finger and starts pulling, pinching, rolling.

“Oh!” You cry out and arch back.

“That’s right, syulang. Gonna make you feel so fucking good”

He starts kissing down your stomach and around your hips as he unties your loincloth and slides it down.

“Fuckkk. You’re soaked, y/n. All for me?”

You nod frantically. He grins and gathers some slick from your aching cunt. It glistens on his fingers as he admires it. He sucks them clean.

“So sweet. So fucking sweet”

He lowers himself down to let his face hover over your sex, pulling your soft, plush thighs on top of his shoulders. He looks up at you through his eyebrows and starts feasting.

Electricity courses through your veins and you feel high. “Neteyammm” you whine pathetically. He continues lapping you up and the sounds are straight up sinful. You didn’t want it to ever end.

“Don’t stop!!” You cry. He just moans and groans on you, sending vibrations through you, hitting the spot.

You feel the high coming, it feels overwhelming and all consuming. You have no control over your body now, he has you completely.

“Gonna cum!! Neteyam!!” You pant and squirm, trying to get out of his hold.

He inserts a finger into your hole, “Cum on my face, pretty girl”. His low voice and words send you over the edge. You see stars and your eyes roll back to your head.

“HOLY FUCK!” You scream. He lets you ride out your orgasm on his fingers and face. He’s now covered in all your juices and licks up as much as he can.

“Shit, y/n. Wanna taste you forever” he groans.

You’re panting trying to catch your breath. Eyes half lidded and looking delirious. He raises up and you shift your gaze down to his tented bulge. “Show me” you point with a weak finger.

He flashes a big grin. “Being bossy are we? Who’d I tell you was the boss around here?”

You roll your eyes and softly chuckle. “Please Neteyam. Don’t tease me.” You wiggle towards him and open wide. You look up at him with siren eyes. The playfulness in him goes away and is replaced with hunger once again. He unties his loincloth and tossed it to the side. You bite your lip in anticipation.

He lines up his cock with your entrance and pushes in. The stretch was so good, as he brushed past all the right places. You looked at him and you both held eye contact, staring into each others souls. As he pushed and pushed you both shared looks of pain and pleasure, mouths agape and eyes fixated on the other. He finally bottomed out as far he could go, you couldn’t believe how full you were. Full of Neteyam, your worst enemy. Or so you had thought.

“Ready tìyawn?”

“Yes!! Go!!” You beg. He pulls out and slams back in.

“Oh, fuck!!” You yell. He starts a pace that has you losing your mind. He lowly groans and occasionally grunts.

“I wonder what your best friend Lo’ak would think about you under me, huh?”

You can only manage to moan in response. You can’t think about anything but your pleasure and Neteyam’s dick stuffed inside you.

He grabs your face and gets nose to nose. “Tell me, will Lo’ak ever get to see you so needy under him like this?” He never stops with his pace, skin steadily slapping and breaths and whines collecting in the air.

“N-no. We’re just friends” you whisper.

“Promise??”

“Yes!!! Please Neteyam!”

“Please what?”

“Make me cum!!”

He growls at your needy plea and fucked out appearance. He speeds up and buries his face in your neck. He’s losing it and feels his own release approaching.

“Shittttt, y/n. You feel so damn good. Please don’t let this be the last time I ever get to be in this pussy” he breathes on you.

You’re so fucked out you can barely form a complete thought but you understand his request. “It’s yours Neteyam! All yours!!”

He moans in appreciation. You feel the coil about to burst and hold onto him tight as he rocks into you ruthlessly.

“Neteyam!!”

“Mmmmmmm” he’s muffled from being in the crook of your neck.

You both cum at the same time, spasming on each other. He releases his load inside you and you take it in greedily while you come down from your climax. He stills and goes limp on you.

“Do you still hate me?” He jokes.

You roll your eyes and swat him playfully. “The bigger question is how are we gonna tell Lo’ak?”

“We’ll worry about that later. For now, sleep.” He kisses your head and you both fall asleep on each other peacefully surrounded by the forest.

#avatar #avatar fanfiction #avatarsmut #neteyam smut #neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x you #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #neteyam x female reader smut #loak sully #atwow loak #atwow #avatar the way of water #enemies to lovers #smut

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Star’s DC Masterlist (+18)

Genres/Tags-

Fluff (💕) Pregnancy (🍼)

Smut (🔞) Angst (⛓️) Suggestive (🔥)

Jason Todd

Drabbles -

• A Cozy Accident (🍼💕)

• Friday Night Entertainment (💕🔞)

• Impatience (🔞🔞)

• Overachiever (💕🔞)

• Move Night Gone Right (🔞🔞)

• Don’t Call Him Jealous (🔞🔞)

• Revive your Piece of Mind (💕⛓️)

• Repose (💕💕)

• Cold Gotham Weather (💕🔥)

• Menstruation Crustacean/Period HCs ( 🦀 💕)

• The Journal (TW: Suicide/⛓️⛓️)

• Do Not Imagine (⛓️⛓️)

• Innocent Possession (🔞🔞)

• Leather Weather (💕☕️)

• A Warm Hug (💕🫂)

• His Favorite Part of You (💕💕)

• Broody Behavior & Nutella Sandwiches (💕🥪)

• He’ll Show you how to Cut Onions (💕🧅)

• Grocery Shopping (💕🍨)

• Bath Time (💕🫧)

• Fresh From the Dryer (💕🫂)

• A Five Dollar Shake & A Proposal (💕💍)

• Freshly Cleaned Floors (💕🧹)

• Red Couch Potato (💕🥔)

• Midnight Blues (⛓️💕)

• Temptation of Chocolate Croissants (💕🔥)

• Cozy Kitchen Waltz (💕🫂)

• A Soft Night (💕🔞)

• Light Use of Laughing Gas (💕🦷)

• Afterglow Discussion (💕🔥)

• Chronic Pain (💕⛓️)

• Early Morning Surprise (🔥🔞)

• Thanksgiving with BatFam (💕🦃)

• The Book Cover (🔥🔞)

• Early Morning Nightcap (🔞🔞)

• A Compromise (⛓️🍼💕)

Finished Mini-Series -

• Low Rise Melancholy Pt.1 (⛓️💕)

• High Rise Melancholy Pt.2 (⛓️💕)

• Motivation Pt.1 (💕🍼)

• Sympathy for Breakfast Pt.2 (💕🍼)

• Ripping Clothes Off Pt.1 (🔥🔞)

• Ripping Clothes Off Pt.2 (🔞🔞)

Ongoing Series -

• Sheer Irony Pt.1 (⛓️💕)

• Mischievous Curiosities Pt.2 (🔥🔞)

• Dancing in the Dark Pt.3 (💕🔥🔞)

• Behind Blue Eyes Pt.4 (⛓️⛓️)

Dick Grayson

Drabbles -

• Date Night Blues (💕💕)

• Taking the Wheel (🔥🔞)

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x fem!reader #dc jason todd #jason todd x reader smut #Jason Todd smut #jason todd smut drabble #dick grayson x reader #Dick Grayson #dick grayson smut

[p1utofairy]

PAC: “one hit of your love addicted me. now i’m strung out on you, darlin’, can’t you see?” 🕊️🕰️✨📨

• what will your first love be like?

disclaimer ✩: take what resonates, leave what doesn't. i wanted to try something new by including edits but ofc tumblr is annoying and doesn’t let you post more than 1 video ugh. hope you all enjoy this though! love you much.

PILE ONE.

hey pile 1 🎀 right off the bat i gotta say…your person could possibly give anakin skywalker vibes visually lolololol very tall, handsome and broody. i'm also thinking of jon snow from ‘game of thrones’ hmmm i think this just ties into the fact that your person is in their bag a good 85% of the time! they analyze and process their thoughts & emotions a lot, and this won’t change especially when it comes to their love and devotion for you. they are very intense and purposeful when it comes to love — there’s no faking it or forcing it. they say what they mean, and mean what they say. they hold themselves to a very high standard so i think they’ll be in their head a lot when it comes down to approaching you/courting you. they want to make sure that they’re doing and saying the right things…they want to make sure that you’re comfortable. they will prioritize you and take the time out to really get to know you! they don’t want to do the whole cliché “wyd” texts or just take you out to the movies. no, they want to be able to take you to places you’ve never been before & treat you to beautiful experiences that will stay with you forever. that’s how highly they think of you, pile 1! they think you deserve the best of the best and they will do everything in their power to give you just that. this person has been through a lot in their life and they’ve felt so alone and misunderstood. 9x out of 10 if they just got out of a relationship, their ex didn’t understand them or couldn’t match them emotionally. your person is big on “everything happens for a reason” so when you come into their life they’re going to feel so much joy and relief, it’s like you’re their saving grace. it’s that energy of — where have you been all my life? that scene of anakin and padmé in ‘star wars: attack of the clones’ on the balcony is coming to mind…the longing in their eyes before they share their first kiss. a lot of people may talk about y'alls relationship/how y'all got together. it's nothing scandalous…i just see people being infatuated? i’m picking up a lot of outside influences/opinions so just be careful of that…don't have too many people in your business cause i’m picking up that some of these people don’t have the best intentions and are secretly jealous. it’s giving very much “fan behavior” hm they might keep tabs or ask lots of questions about you and your person’s relationship…it’s weird. i think for some of you, you’ve been single for a long time, so it’s going to be a shock to a lot of people when you pop out with this person. once your person comes into your life you may start to notice multiple people show romantic interest in you and you’ll be like??? where tf were y’all at when i was single for ____ years?! LMFAOOOOO that’s hilarious but back to your first love, it’ll be beautifully intense. i see you giggling a lot, staring at your person with big starry eyes and a lot of physical touch between you two. it may not even be in a flashy way? i can just see you coming up behind them and placing a hand on their back to make your presence known…i see a lot of moments of them holding you in their arms and resting their forehead against yours — they’re looking at you with so much intensity…deep concentration and passion etched across their face and you just break out into this bright smile and they just melt. you look so innocent compared to them like there’s this light in your eyes that’s left their own a long time ago, but they feel so safe…so free to be themselves when they’re with you. you’re their heart, pile 1. i’m hearing that scene from ‘the bear’ when carmy tells sydney “i couldn’t do it without you. i wouldn’t even want to do it without you…” AWWWWEEEEEE.

via tnqkins on tiktok

other channeled messages:

who's that girl? by eve, shravana moon/rising, doe eyes, baby pink, curly hair, strong arms, yin & yang energy, younger/age difference, vishaka scorpio moon, hypnotic gaze, 10:10, mirroring each other, distinct cologne

PILE TWO.

heyyy pile 2! you will NOT expect to fall in love with this person wow, your feelings for them will actually catch you off guard. this person is not your usual type and that's what's so intriguing about them…you’ll never know what to expect with them; they’ll keep you on your toes. i think that you keep repeating cycles or keep going back to someone who is no good for you, but once you meet this person there’s no going back. you’ll gravitate towards them like a month drawn to a flame lol you can’t fight these feelings even if you wanted to. you might meet this person through a mutual friend or meet them in a group setting, i see other people around you both as you talk and get to know each other. there’s so much warmth that this person radiates…they feel like home to you. a hug from them could fix your bad day, a kiss from them could make your heart skip a beat 🥹 and their smile?! to see them smile at you will give you an instant serotonin boost. this relationship feels divine…it feels fated. it’s giving “right person at the right time” like everything leading up to this connection will make so much sense once you’re actually together. some of you that chose this pile are quick to self-sabotage or cut off a relationship before you can get too emotionally invested. you’ve built these walls up because you’ve been through a lot of shit and you don’t want the extra baggage a relationship can sometimes bring, but it’s gonna be different with this person. you’re going to be so open to receiving their love and reciprocating it, there’s going to be such a healthy balance between you two. i’m hearing that this person is going to be a wish fulfillment, pile 2. this might be a long distance relationship at first — you might have to travel to see each other or you both will like to travel to different places together. they will value you so much! they will wine and dine you, surprise you with your favorite things and make sure you always have whatever your heart desires. they love you and they will have no problem showing that.

other channeled messages:

short king, sagittarius, bisexual, when harry met sally, opposites attract, capricorn man, matcha latte, boyfriend by big time rush, saturn dominant, west virgina, virgo/6H placements, ruby, freckles

PILE THREE.

pile 333 🦢 whoa i'm already picking up that this is a love that only grows stronger and better with time; it ages like fine wine. WOW WOW WOW. i'm ngl i feel like this person is your divine counterpart…when i say you two are a match made in heaven — i mean it. you complete each other in ways that other people will never truly understand. there’s this unspoken love and desire between you two initially; i see you both stealing a lot of glances at each other, waiting for the other to cave in and say something…anything. you both want to close that space between you but don’t know exactly how to. i don’t think either of you has ever felt this way before about anybody 😮‍💨 this love is strong AF. it’s never a dull moment between you two, there’s always that underlying passion and spark ready to consume you both. i’m picking up that either your ex or their ex is going to be very envious of this relationship. they almost feel blindsided in a sense…they thought you were going to come back to them and give them another chance, so it's going to make them feel some type of way when they see that you’ve moved on. please be cautious of this ex pile 3…they don’t have good intentions at all and i pick up an obsessive vibe from them. we are blocking that all the way out 🧿 anyways! your person’s love language is more than likely quality time…they loveeeeeee spending time with you and stepping out of their comfort zone to try things that you like. there’s a solid friendship at the root of this connection pile 3…like not only is this person your lover, but they’re also your best friend wrapped into one. you will give them the key to your heart and vice versa. any other options or third party situations will be cut off/left behind because all you both can see is each other! nothing and no one can tear this relationship down because it’s built on such a strong foundation, you can see yourself with this person years down the line from now and they feel the exact same way. you’re home to them. i know this is your first love pile 3 but i wouldn’t be surprised if they popped the question 💍 — i'm just sayinnnnnnnnnn!

other channeled messages:

feel it by jacquees ft. lloyd & rich homie quan, la perla lingerie, just left a toxic relationship, rock the boat by aaliyah, air sign placements, 26, 111, lemon drop, leo, jaded by drake

#pac #pick a card #pick a card reading #pick a pile #love reading #pac reading #intuitive reading #tarot reading #energy reading #love pac #pac tarot #tarot #tarot pac #p1utofairy

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Simon relationship hcs ♡

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

I may have gone a little off the rails, and this sort of turned into a little bit of a psychoanalysis for Simon lol

I just had a lot to say, okay

Hope you like it <3

The ask is here ♡

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The only way I can ever see Simon getting in a relationship is through friendship.

First of all, no one would realistically ever approach him, he's a scary looking fella. I know I would be scared shitless lmao (love you, simmy)

The tall, dark and broody aura with cold brown eyes, almost like the freezing dirt you'll be buried in if you look for a second too long. Or that's what it feels like. The skull mask doesn't help either, it's sort of odd, but who are we to judge, right?

I know a lot of people say he doesn’t know how to talk to people, and while I think that is definitely true to an extent, I also think that he just doesn't want to. He doesn't see the point in it, and that's the thing.

This man can't do anything without reason. There needs to he a reason or a point to doing something, otherwise it's just a waste of time in his eyes.

The only exception is going out with the boys or hanging out occasionally. I think he very much feels like he doesn't deserve happiness, so any simple pleasures are immediately shut down.

I mean, this man is literally the king of self-destructive behavior.

He locks himself away on leave, again, only does what he needs to on base (or what he feels he needs to), and that's it.

But he's also very responsible, so I don't think he'd ever do anything self destructive wise that would be considered irresponsible.

He takes care of himself on a physical level, and he needs to, but his mind is an absolute train wreck. His job keeps him in check, and that's good.

Otherwise, he'd be down a hole the size of the Mariana trench.

He chronically needs to have noise playing. Whether that's music, a movie, or just the dishwasher running, just something. He would spiral so fast if he had time to be alone with his thoughts, so he keeps himself busy.

In comes Riley (the best boy). Simon has something to do, to busy himself with, and he actually gets outside sometimes because of the pup. He's got a cuddle buddy, a weighted blanket, and a steady presence in his life all at once. Dog of the year award goes to Riley.

Anyway, you somehow got into their little circle. Probably through Johnny or Kyle. They start taking you along to the nights at the pub or the football games at one of their flats because you're fun to hangout with. They like to have you around and let me tell you, Simon is not thrilled at first.

How dare you just inject yourself into their group, and come along during their hangouts. He's annoyed. Not at you, necessarily, but just that he needs to deal with change now. Which isn't usually a problem considering he needs to be kept spontaneous and alert for his job, but once he's away from that, change is like his worst enemy. He hates it.

Things are fine like this, good almost, why do they need to change? He's very cold and sharp with you for the first few months, he just needs time. He sees that you're not a threat after a while.

You didn't disrupt their dynamic as much as he thought you would. You're a fun addition, but you don't steal all the attention from his friends. You know when to back off. After a hard mission, they all need to decompress, and they just can't guarantee they won't snap at you and hurt your feelings.

You respect it, and with a quick "don't be stupid. Stay safe" text the conversation is done.

You don't ask about their job. You don't really care what they do, and they obviously don't feel comfortable telling you too much, but as long as they come back safe, you're good.

You bring a more caring presence into the group, something which they all need desperately. Simon is caught off guard. He never expected something like this, but it feels... nice. We all know you melted his cold heart and he's putty.

But not an overexaggerated amount, just right where he can crack a smile or huff a laugh, and it doesn't feel weird. He even starts to hang out one-on-one with you. It starts off somewhere in public, a cafe or the local pub. The idea of coming to your flat is still a little uncomfortable inside his chest, but you don't push. You're just happy to spend time with him.

And then, out of nowhere, he invites you to his flat. All on his own, comfortably, and you have to stop yourself from being too excited that you finally cracked him.

Simon does feel a little nervous when you first get there, but you're so chill about it (you're probably freaking out on the inside as well), and you just hang out like you normally would.

Riley is so excited to have a new friend!!! No matter how old he is, he jumps around like a puppy, overjoyed to get a visitor.

The second he sees how you're acting with Riley, he's smitten. Not necessarily in a romantic way just yet. You're giving him scratches and pets and talking in The Doggy Voice and it makes Simon's heart all fuzzy.

Riley is essentially his best friend and family, having been there through some of his worst times and to see how infatuated his pup is with you makes him so happy.

I mean, now you just have to come over more often, right?

He always talks about how Riley misses you (all an excuse, he misses you, but he won't say that) and that you need to come over to hangout soon.

When he's deployed again, he leaves Riley with you. That's the equivalent of someone trusting you with their newborn child for Simon, but he trusts you fully. You've earned his trust, respect, and adoration. (Cue Simon giving Riley a serious pep talk to keep you safe but it all slides off, Riley's got smooth brain)

When he comes by to pick Riley up and he steps inside your home for the first time, he gets smacked in the face with a feeling he can only describe as home. It's so warm and cozy and you.

That's when he knows he's fucked. He never wants to leave. It's so much better here, with you and Riley, than his flat. Sure, he can call that home too, but not in the way he can call you home.

It's a very subtle love that slowly starts to bubble up. He enjoyed being your friend, you made him feel normal for once in a while. He was just a guy with a job and friends. Not lieutenant Riley. But how could he have not fallen for you? He wants to be more than just friends, he wants to be yours.

He's never felt more taken care of than when he's with you, and he's slowly letting himself feel the good things again. And you're the best thing. For him and Riley. The pup probably thinks you're his mum already tbh

He gets touchier too. An arm slung around your shoulders, your thighs touching when he's sitting next to you or brushing his fingers against yours. He craves your touch so bad, he even starts hugging and the boys absolutely lose their minds

He feels like you're soothing all that has ever made him feel pain or weird. So, basically, he's utterly in love with you. But he will never ever say a word about it. His fear of your potential rejection almost paralyzes him.

He can't lose you and he'd rather stay silent about his feelings than mess up what you have.

Now, the boys are trying to get into his thick skull that you're also head over heels for him, but he's so far in denial, you could call him a crocodile ( hehe de-nile, get it?)

You confess. Your willpower just can't rival Simon's, and you crumble. How much you like him, how amazing he is in your eyes and how when he came to pick up Riley you almost felt like a little family.

And at that, he breaks. He doesn't know what he's doing, he's never been in love before, he's walking in the dark but he can't care about that when it feels so right. I imagine he probably just stares at you for a while while you're sweating buckets because he doesn't know what to do.

Does he say something? Does he kiss you? Does he hug you? Does he propose-

He's so caught up in his head, playing all kinds of different scenarios that he forgets that he didn't answer you.

Simon gently pulls you into a hug and you can feel the love oozing from his touch. He's not a man of many words, so all he says is a quiet

"be mine."

And the deal is sealed, ladies and gents!!! You just hold each other for a while, feeling the relief wash over your hearts.

Simon loves so fully it makes my heart all fuzzy just thinking about it.

It may not seem like that to other people, but he loves you so much it's insanity. Now, he's not about any grand gesture but the little things that will make your life that much easier. Of course you do get the occasional bouquet and don't get me started on the dates he takes you on, but he will do the dishes after dinner.

He'll fold the laundry. He'll feed the dog. He'll sweep the living room. He'll grocery shopping. And if you're someone who tends to get a messy room very quickly (like me lol) He'll help you set up a system to keep it functioning and neat.

Simon brings the structure, helping you get through your days better while you show how him to enjoy things.

The little things. Like the little dance parties you have with Riley. Like the late nights with the moon shining down on you. Like the sunny day in the park that led to the best afternoon nap ever. You balance each other perfectly, and Simon loves that about you.

You loosen him up. He's still Simon, and that's perfect, but seeing him crack a smile more often doesn't only warm your heart, but the ones of his boys, too.

He's not big on PDA but at home he has now issues with showing how much he loves you. A kiss here, a peck there- he can't ever pass up an opportunity to kiss you.

Now jealousy.... I do think he gets a little more secure the longer you are together but he will still kill anyone with his stares that dares to even look at you suggestively.

He's very possessive. He's always been possessive, not wanting to share with his brother or being very particular about who gets to touch his things. But you? Christ, that's another level. You belong to his heart, and not in a weird objectifying way. You chose him despite everything that he was and is and you're willingly his so of course he won't let you go as long as you want to stay.

It still baffles him everytime when some bloke comes up to you, with Simon obviously being pressed to your side, and asks for your number. He always had the problem of being noticed a lot with his size and now he's suddenly air??

He'll step in everytime, pulling you closer and wrapping himself fully around you. Simon will definitely say something as well, but his absolute favorite thing is when you beat him to it.

"I'm taken, Thank you. I'm very happy with Simon. Say hello, Simon!"

You smile innocently at the drunk man in front of you just to make it extra awkward and Simon has the biggest grin underneath his mask before he presses a kiss to your temple.

What you didn't see was the death glare Simon shot him, making him scramble away to presumably bother another poor woman.

He can get overly jealous if you don't get the hint sometimes, but he would never ever take that out on you. He'll be grumbly for the day until you can get out of him what the problem is.

But at the end of the day, you're in his bed and that's all the reassurance he needs.

He loves cuddling you. He'll knock out in seconds if you're in his arms or vice versa. He prefers to be the big spoon because he needs you pressed against his chest, but he won't deny you the pleasure of being his lovely jetpack.

Simon LOVES to get kissed on the cheek. It's so sweet to him, a little token of your appreciation or a good luck smooch. It makes his nose scrunch up slightly and it's the cutest thing ever.

For you, he adores placing little pecks on your nose. Mainly because you complain that it tickles and he thinks you look adorable, but nothing can beat your lips on his.

Holds your hand in his sleep. It's more of a subconscious thing, but it's so endearing. You're not sure if Simon knows that he does it. You haven't told him. You're just gonna keep this sweet little secret to yourself.

You'll end up getting married because he knows you're the one. He doesn't want anyone else ever.

You're all he needs and wants.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

If you want my NSFW hcs on Simon, just pop into my inbox and ask for it!! This post is already so long, I'll make a separate one for the spicy stuff if you want it :)

More Cod works and other stuff --> 🐝💫

~Fi 🩷

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

#bumblebeesfromvenus #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #we die like simps #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #ghost cod #ghost x you #ghost x reader #cod x reader #cod mw2 #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x female reader #simon riley x f!reader

[yandere-romanticaa]

The subtle cool air hit the back of your neck as you stood next to a giant tower of various documents, all of which needed tending to but it wasn't that urgent.

However, Dang Heng had other plans in store for this particular evening.

The man was a mystery wrapped in an enigma. No one in the Express really understood him and after a while they didn't care to do so. In their eyes, Dang Heng was a hard and diligent worker, a good person to rely on if times got tough. All he required was that the people around him respected him and his need for privacy, nothing more, nothing less. His demands, if you could even call them that, were alright on paper. Any respectable person could easily keep their distance.

Which is precisely why Dang Heng couldn't figure out just what your deal was. You took every chance you could to be with him - telling him to sleep, wash up or have a meal. Sometimes you would ask him to play a game with you and maybe, if he felt like it, he would indulge you. It was fun and dare he say, even relaxing. He found comfort in your smile and overall attitude, a stark contrast to his own broody and calculated one. He would never say it out loud but Dang Heng started to rely on you. He would wait for you to wake up and would gladly eat breakfast with you, lunch too and what the hell, why not dinner also? He would always give you his share of the food, claiming that he wasn't hungry but that was a lie. He just liked to give you little things that could make you smile.

His heart would soften at the sight of you and it took everything in his willpower to not do something which could be considered unprofessional behavior. You were still colleagues at the end of the day and things needed to stay curt.

It didn't matter that you extended the same kindness to others as well. It didn't matter that his chest would get tight with worry and fear whenever another crew member got too close to you for his liking. He had no reason to feel this way, it was ridiculous.

Even so, if it really was so ridiculous, why did his fingers itch to grab his weapon and skewer whoever touched you?

#it's about damn time i wrote something for this boi #yandere #yandere x reader #yancore #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yanderecore #yandere aesthetic #yandere scenarios #yandere male #honkai star rail #star rail #yandere hsr #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr x you #yandere honkai star rail #dang heng #yandere dang heng #yandere dang heng x reader #hsr dan heng

[trinittyy]

fic recs

just a little assortment of my favorite works to keep track of them and also show love to the respective writers.

note - a majority, if not all, of the following works contain dark content that some could find triggering. tread carefully.

divider by @firefly-graphics

toxic affection - @love-toxin

warnings: harassment, bullying, some violence, forced relationship

pairing: yandere!bakugou x reader

literally unashamed to say that BNHA fanfiction is what brought me to Tumblr

but this was one of the first I found and it's epic

what's your escape - @gotnofucks

warnings: obsession, possessive behavior, non-con

pairing: dark!sherlock holmes x reader

the man is disastrously down bad for the poor reader

she was so witty and clever but in the end, he got what he wanted in the most satisfying way

infatuation - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor - masterlist

warnings: mentions of stalking, obsession, non-con

pairing: dark!clark kent x reader

poor girl didn't have a clue or a chance in the world to escape this man

sidenote: I can't add Roo to the recs without mentioning just how talented she is. She was the first proper introduction to dark fics in the Marvel fandom and I've been hooked ever since. The amount of detail and dedication that goes into her work is noticeable and she's a talent that deserves recognition. It's one thing to make me like a fic or two of my favorite Marvel men but another to have me thirst over shit I didn't think I'd like.

naughty ransom holiday tales - @jtargaryen18

warnings: kidnapping, non-con, dub-con

pairing: dark!ransom drysdale x reader

guilty pleasure series

hate to love ransom but I can't help it

what the king has - @sincerelythedarkside

warnings: dub-con, character death

pairing: soft!dark steve rogers x reader

royal au

love me a good jealous steve

plot twist shocked the shit outta me

smut was out of this fucking world

love bites - @cherienymphe - masterlist

warnings: character death, jealousy, non-con

pairing: dark!steve rogers x reader, peter parker x reader

modern vampire au (what's not to love there)

this actually made me cry like a bitch

ongoing series

sidenote: Seeing as Cherie will be on this list many times, I have to say it's difficult not to add every piece of work on this list because while some writers have a magnum opus, everything she writes is a work of art. Her range and the backstory she puts in her characters make each story feel like a movie I just can't get enough of. Will forever love her writing.

kryptonite - @cherienymphe

warnings: non-con, obsession

pairing: dark!bruce wayne x reader

the build-up and tension gave me actual chills

trailer park babydoll - @mypoisonedvine

warnings: dub-con, infidelity, age gap

pairing: wayne munson x reader

guilty pleasure fic

absolute filthy smut

wrath of the dragon - @straywords

warnings: non-con, chasing

pairing: dark!daemon targaryen x reader

yet another down bad man

overdue - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

warnings: creepy curtis, non-con, obsessive behavior

pairing: dark!curtis everett x reader

there's little to nothing i love more than a good ole broody man with attachment issues

anxious - @syntheticavenger

warnings: stalking, kidnapping

pairing: dark!peter parker x reader

tasm peter

cutest in a way lol little fic

the dream that got away - @dotieeee

there's not nearly enough dark fics ft my fave peter so I love this one

warnings: dub-con, non-con, manipulation, controlling behavior, obsession

pairing: dark!morpheus x oc!mera

probably the first dark fic about morpheus

each chapter was a masterpiece

and i still haven't seen the show lol

thanks for the invite - @syntheticavenger

warnings: non-con, bitchy friend behavior, implied drugging (i think), oral (f receiving), slight bondage

pairing: dark!lloyd hansen x reader

a funny little unhinged lloyd fic

rsvp - @syntheticavenger

warnings: dub-con, hide and seek, exasperated bodyguard, exhibitionism (a bit)

sequel to the fic listed above

lloyd is still unhinged and reader is still suffering

#fic rec #dark fic #dark!clark kent #dark!peter parker #dark!steve rogers #dark!lloyd hansen #dark!morpheus #dark!curtis everett #dark!sherlock holmes #dark!daemon targaryen #dark!bruce wayne #dark!bakugou #dark!ransom drysdale #x reader

[spacecowboyhotch]

Through the Window

summary: despite the complexities of your relationship, Miguel always shows, ready and willing to slink through your window and submit in your bed.

pairing: afab!reader x miguel o’hara

contents: nsfw/18+/smut, sub!miguel o’hara, unprotected sex, light bondage, pet names, idiots in love, angst, happy ending

wc: 2,701

an: sub!miguel rights!!!! reducing him to a needy mess is in my hierarchy of needs, and it should be in yours too <3.

writing masterlist | marvel masterlist

“You have the nicest window, you know? None of the others can even compete. It's not flashy like the others, or bleary – your window gives off this nice, quiet light.” — Banana Yoshimoto, The Lake

Miguel has weaseled his way into your heart. He’s decidedly not your type— too much of a tight ass to even allow a smile at one of your jokes. Too broody to show what he’s actually feeling, hiding behind that glaring mask his face is set in.

That is until he breaks under the everpresent pressure of being a leader— the leader. It feels a little sadistic that you realized how well the two of you work together despite all your differences, when his mind is on the brink of collapse.

There’s a telltale knock on your window, five sharp taps in quick succession. He never uses the door, partially because he’s spiderman, partially because whatever this is that happened between the two of you isn’t real and it will never be. Letting him in through your front door would be a sign that you’re letting him into your heart. You’ve avoided that successfully, that is until tonight.

When you make it to the window to let him in, the sight of him makes every hair on your body stand on edge. Sure you’ve seen him struggle, but never like this. You’ve never seen Miguel look so defeated, his eyes somehow as cloudy with emotion as they are dead.

You cup his face in your hands, examining him, “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” He says sharply, not bothering to mumble to hide his fangs.

You know too much about him. You’ve studied him, his behaviors, his DNA, his patterns. There’s many reasons the two of you have decided to keep this purely physical but the most convincing is that you’re a scientist partnered with the police force to catch him. When he realized that knowing him, seeing him the way he allows you dampens your efforts, he told you some of his past. You know everything there is to know about Miguel O’Hara; everything he’ll let you know.

There are plenty of things you don’t know. You don’t know why he chose you. Why he comes back to you time and time again when there’s someone he could actually have a future with. You don’t know that he longs for you, dreams of impossible outcomes where the two of you can truly be together. Those are things that Miguel can never share with you— not when you do what you do.

Not when you only let him in and out through the window.

“If you don’t want to talk then strip and lay on the bed.”

Miguel melts under your commands. His shoulders that stay stiff—poised for control under the weight of keeping order— relax when he’s with you. He’s completely naked and sprawled out in your bed in under a minute. You grab some silks from the top drawer, and make your way over to him, straddling his lap.

His eyes are already ravenous as he looks up at you, their usual bright redness almost looking black in this lighting. His hands are restless as the rest on the sheets, itching to touch you. But when he’s in your bed like this, you call the shots.

You get both of his hands tied to the posts. You check them, tugging on them to make sure they’re secure but not too tight. “You remember what to say if you need me to stop?”

“‘Course I do,” He breathes, and you can hear the eagerness in his voice.

“Yeah you do, because you’re such a good boy for me.”

Miguel whimpers underneath you, chest rising as his breath quickens with anticipation. Sometimes he thinks that he can cum just from the sound of your voice, just from you looking at him the way you are right now. He’s used to having the power—to towering over others and making them feel as if they’re in his grasp. You’re looking at him like you own him, like you want to consume him completely. He’s ready to give in, to disappear in you.

There’s no reason for you to ask this question, but you can’t deny that your heart wants to hear his answer to it— so you ask.

“Why’d you come tonight?”

His legs shift beneath you impatiently, “Because I need you.”

“You need me,” You repeat, feigning skepticism. That skepticism isn’t completely unreal but you don’t have time to unpack that, not when he looks so desperate beneath you.

He nods, “Yeah, need you baby, please.”

You bend to kiss him, a smug smile on your lips, “Shh, you don’t have to beg, sweet boy. I won’t tease you, not tonight.”

You take him into your hand with a firm grip, stroking him the way you know will reduce him to a whiny mess— slow, drawn out strokes, slicked by his precum.

He practically dissolves under your touch, eyes rolling in the back of his head, “Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, yeah baby.”

“Feel good?” You question playfully. You weren’t completely honest with your promise not to tease, but you’ll get him out of his head, give him so much pleasure that his brain fries despite poking fun at his desperation.

“So good, can I have more? I need to feel you, please.”

“You need it?” You ask. wanting to hear him say it again though he's already said it twice tonight.

“I need it— need you. Always need you,” He looks up at you with glassy eyes.

You aren’t sure if you want to wrap yourself around him and never let go or ride him until he’s a shuddering, crying mess. The first isn’t a possibility, so you go with the latter.

There is something distinctly unique about tonight. He’s always needy, always asking and begging for what he wants. But there’s a new depth to his desperation and his words. You almost believe him. You almost believe that he truly needs you, and not just the release he’s chasing. That he wouldn’t be able to get what he needs from anyone else, though this is just sex.

The way you guide yourself down onto his cock is gentle, teasing. His eyes shut, a soft gasp leaving his full mouth. He looks so beautiful beneath you. Miguel is large, one of the largest men you've ever seen and despite how many times you’re with him it takes a little effort. You shift steadily, using your free hand to rub at your clit so that you bloom and open more easily for him. When you whine at the stretch his eyes open, tracking immediately to the way your wet heat envelopes him.

“So fucking big, baby. You like that don’t you? Watching me take you? Watching me fuck you.”

“I like it,” He breathes easily. You’re about to tease him but then he says, “I love it.”

“Me too, baby. I love it too. You’re so fucking perfect for me, so fucking easy. You’d let me fuck you until I felt satisfied wouldn’t you?”

“Yes. Yes, whatever you need.”

“What I need, sweet boy, is to feel you cum. Fill me up. Can you be good and do that for me? Make it all messy.”

“Mhmm, just–kiss me, please? So close,” He groans beneath you, his body practically shaking with the effort it takes to keep his hips still.

“Since you asked so nicely,” You tease him, bending down to press your mouth to his.

Your hips don’t stop bouncing, taking him fast and deep, and the soft groans that echo out of him and into your mouth turn to high pitched whine as you feel him cum, filling you completely. You continue to ride him until tears prick his eyes from overstimulation. But, he doesn’t ask you to stop, doesn’t say that safe word because despite his orgasm he needs to feel you cum.

It doesn’t take long; with his cum and your building arousal it's easy to take him faster. You need a bit more, just a little. And while you know Miguel’s body well, there’s give and take. He knows yours just as well. He can see the desperation mounting in your eyes even in his subby haze. He rocks his hips up when you come down, biting out whimpers that meld with the sound of flesh on flesh.

“Untie me. Let me help you,” He suggests softly.

You have no arguments, reaching up to undo the knot at his wrists. His hands are on your body in an instant, one dropping to rub diligent circles into your clit while the other rolls your nipple gently through his fingers. You go completely stiff above him, squeezing the life out of his cock in a way that makes him cry out again. When you collapse against him he draws you close without another thought.

The two of you lay there for an eternity, breath returning to normal as you trace shapes on his chest. That’s the thing with you and Miguel, it starts quickly, a flurry of skin on skin, of hushed whines and limits pushed. But it ends, and that ending is always sobering. The longer you lay on his chest the more anxious you get.

Pushing up, you peer at him, seeing if there is any distress or anything he needs. Miguel’s very good at returning to his controlling headspace, the time frame of his vulnerability is tight. There’s nothing there when he gazes back at you, none of that desperation or longing that was just in his eyes. It’s eerie.

You look away, clearing your throat to ask, “Miguel, what are we doing? This…this is dangerous.”

He groans— it is full of exasperation and not pleasure— and scrubs a hand over his face, “We talk about this everytime and we end up here all over again. Don’t waste our breath.”

You ignore him, pulling his hand away from his face, “You could get caught coming in here and my job—“

He glares at you, shifting you off so he can sit up and throw his legs over the side of the bed. “We both know that you don’t give a fuck about that job. Not the way you’re supposed to anyway.”

“That wasn’t my point.”

“Then what was? Because you’re wasting my time.”

“What happened to ‘we talk about this everytime’?” You drop your voice an octave, tightening your shoulders to mock him. “Shouldn’t you know then?”

“Let’s not pretend that your spiel about getting caught has anything to do with me. It all has to do with you,” He starts to slip back into his suit, standing to pull it up and over his shoulders.

You reach for your robe as you step out of bed, following after him, “Why is it so impossible for you to believe that I would care?”

“If you care so much about me getting caught swinging through your window then why haven’t you let me in through the door? Y’know like a normal man would.”

“Because…because this is all I thought you would give me. And you’re not a normal man. You’re not just some guy to me. You have to know I don’t let you into my bed because you have fangs and swing from webs, right? You being Miguel to me…it has nothing to do with being Spiderman. Keeping things the way they are… made it easier to deny that.”

He stares at you through narrowed eyes, as if he’s gauging whether or not he believes you. He wants to…but he doesn’t. He can’t. Vulnerability begins to unravel in his chest, the kind that he distinctly avoids even though he submits to you. He needs to run before you see him.

“You know what…you were right. This is dangerous; I won’t come back, not for this nonsense. This bullshit.”

Panic rises in your throat as he starts toward the window. You always knew you would lose him but you never thought that it would be like this, with him walking away. Choosing to part.

“What about you? Why do you keep coming back? Why is it the first time you’ve brought up being a normal guy, walking through the door instead of sneaking in?” You ask quickly, reaching out to grab his hand.

He pulls away from you sharply but turns around his bright red eyes bleeding down into yours, “Your time for asking questions is up, maybe you should’ve asked when you had me tied up.”

Miguel can try to intimidate you, try to be the man he is outside of this window with you, but you know the truth. You know the way he bends and breaks and molds for you. Just for you. It’s what makes staring back at him so confidently easy.

“Until you slip out of that window you’re mine.”

“I’m never yours, this isn’t real. Never has been.”

“Then why? Answer my questions. Why do you keep coming back? Why are you just bringing up the thing about the door—“

“Because I didn’t want you to say no!” He shouts at you, the points of his fangs glistening in the moonlight. “There? Are you happy? Seen enough of me to bulk up your stupid little file?”

You stare at him, completely speechless for a moment. Is that what he thinks this is? That he’s at your mercy? Sure, he submits to you in bed but that’s his choice. He has all the power, he’s set the limits, he chooses when this all happens. And if one day he decided he didn’t want this anymore, you’re not sure how you would cope.

“Miguel, when have I ever been able to say no to you?”

He flushes, looking away, “Pretty often when we—“

“Because that’s what you need. It’s what you ask me to give you, but besides that? Tell me when.”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes it fucking matters. You’re being avoidant.”

“I’m not being avoidant,” He says firmly, crossing his arms against his chest.

“Fine then what was your other argument? That I put the things you tell me here in the file? I’d never do that to you.”

“That’s bullshit, you’d squeak for that job in a heartbeat.”

“They don’t even know about your daughter,” You counter.

His eyes finally snap back to yours. If it were anyone else to get this stare from him, they’d think he was angry— but you know Miguel and see nothing but pain. “His daughter.”

“His daughter,” You amend quickly, knowing that it’s easier for him to view it that way. “It’s true anything you told me or showed me here, it’s…it’s ours.”

“Ours,” He tests cautiously, brow furrowing together as he looks down at the floor.

This must’ve been some reverse psychology ploy that he’d been waiting to use on you. How did you go from adamantly telling yourself that you and Miguel could never work to convincing him that every moment between the two of you is real? That it’s— that he— is the realest thing that’s ever happened to you.

How had this ended with you unable to let him go like all the times you had before?

“Stay.”

“That’s not—“

“Stay,” You say gently, reaching for his hand again. You thread your fingers through his. “Just for tonight, and if it’s too much, if it’s not what you thought it would be or something you want then in the morning you can walk out the door and never come back.”

“And if it is something I want?”

“Then tomorrow night, I imagine that around— I don’t know— 7 p.m. Miguel O’Hara is picking me up and taking me to dinner.”

His mouth twitches, fighting a smile, “Is that so?”

“He said it himself actually. Wish he was here to back me up, but I guess I’m stuck with you for now— the freaky spider guy in skin tight tights.”

And finally, for the first time, Miguel snorts before letting out a soft laugh at your joke. It’s a sound you never heard before but one you want to keep hearing over and over again.

“So that’s what your laugh sounds like,” You murmur as you pull him closer, burying your smiling face into his chest.

He quickly wraps his arms around you, whispering, “Get used to it.”

miguel taglist: @campingwiththecharmings, @whatthefishh, @scaraza, @stargazingcarol, @soft-persephone, @k-ra

let me know if you’d like to be tagged in miguel o’hara stuff!

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x afab!reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara fanfiction #arson writes #not sfw

[puppetmaster13u]

Oh my god

it never even occurred to me that the League would have to deal with Broody!Batman holy shit-

I can 100 percent see the league being absolutely baffled by Batman’s behavior- I feel like some would be aware of the A/B/O traits, but not all.

Just imagine when Batman eventually decides they’re his Work Pack:tm: and starts to treat them as such.

He’s suddenly all touchy and tries to flaunt his role as Lead Pack Omega much to their confusion.

And for the ones with super senses? I feel like they wouldn’t get the nitty gritty details of scenting (Though beast boy most definitely does)

Clark would be so stressed out over that. What’s wrong with his best friend?? Why did Bruce suddenly going from smelling like nothing to smelling like sweet earth??? (The answer is Scent Blockers, Bruce just decided to stop wearing them so he could mark them as pack.)

Also them dealing with Batman immediately post taking in Dick??? Oh god they’d be so concerned because why is Bruce suddenly so flighty?? Why did he go from doing everything to the letter to I Need To Get Out Now??

And you know Bruce doesn't think to explain. Like everyone in Gotham knows about dynamics, it's Gotham after all. He even forgot to mention it to Dick when he first came to the manor, and he saw him literally every day.

And it's not like he didn't care about them before, but it was silent, more distant care. Adding an extra kitchen when Flash complains about his high metabolism, adding more stuff to the gym when someone mentions it, but never letting anyone know he was the one to do so.

He still does these things of course, but will also just drop gifts into their arms and laps. Gifts covered in his scent seeing as he's not around them as often as say, his Wayne Enterprises pack. Which he also doesn't see often but is probably helped by the fact of him not being the only one with a dynamic.

Gosh Bruce is definitely fighting with himself because he wants to share his pup with his pack(s) but he also wants to of course keep him safe. Meaning he has to keep him hidden and all that and there's also the issue of Dick not understanding the whole broodiness at first too.

And you know he's going to not vocalize any of this. And the broodiness definitely gets worse for a bit until the miscommunication between him and Dick gets fixed lol.

Love the idea of Clark just, forgetting the fact he's a journalist and can find this information if he researched Gotham lmao. He's smart until he's in the middle of worrying about one of his friends and the freak out takes over.

Definitely not helped by the fact that the rest of the league also freaking out and wondering wtf is wrong lol.

#ask answered #omegaverse #alpha beta omega #batman #dc #dcu #justice league #batdad #Clark: Is he sick? Hurt? DYING?! #Bruce: Hn... P A C K #Do you think his broodiness gets worse each time he gets another child lol #Like he just has to introduce his kids to their new sibling so get in the ever expanding nest #gosh imagine if bruce ever went into heat on a JL meeting and just #will not let them leave the Watchtower or ship or whatever unless he can figure out a way to bring them to his nest in Gotham lol #oh my god imagine when the JL members ever introduce their sidekicks/kids

[kiame-sama]

The Zoldyck's Omega- (yandere!Zoldyck Family x Omega!Reader)

Warnings; my abo au, abo, brooding, omega reader, poly relationship, Mention of pups, pregnancy, temperamental omega,

~~~~~~~~

There was an unusual tension in the air surrounding Kukuroo mountain, a static that seemed to bleed into the air and soak the very soil. Though the inhabitants of the mountain were almost always quiet in their day to day life, a low growl could be heard in the heart of the building within the mountain.

After some time with their dearest omega living within the mountain, the adult Zoldycks were well aware of the broody behavior omegas often exhibited after being in heat. However, this had gone on for well over two weeks. Brooding after a heat is common for an omega, though they usually do not stay broody for too long. The fact that this most recent brooding session had not ended after two weeks was an indication that the soft omega of the Zoldyck family was with pups.

As they often did whenever new behavior showed itself, the adult Zoldycks called upon their close ally and friend, Netero. He was an apex alpha and the grandfather of the soft omega the Zoldycks protected, so surely he would know how to proceed with a pregnant omega. When this brooding behavior first occurred, he had mentioned that pregnant omegas need a whelping den in order to calm themselves down, but he did not say much beyond that.

"It should be near enough to her usual nest that she will not have to go far from the comfort she knows, but far enough that she can settle properly without feeling compelled to move her nest."

"What would you recommend as a starter for her whelping den?"

"Somewhere similar to her nest; a smaller room with one entrance she can defend, low ceiling to give that cozy and protected feeling, no foreign scents she isn't familiar with, and plenty of overly soft nesting materials. Where omegas can nest with anything in particular that has a pleasant texture, a whelping den needs to have nesting items soft enough to not scratch or distress pups."

Zeno nodded, clearly rather interested in getting the whelping den set up as soon as possible in order to break the broody behavior you were stuck in. The apex alphas all wanted to ensure you were taken care of and kept safe, so your aggression towards them and aversion to any food given to you had been upsetting, to say the least. If giving you a whelping den would help you return to your more affectionate behavior, they would happily do so.

"So she will stop brooding once in a proper whelping den?"

"She should," Netero sighed, stroking his beard, "but when she does finally give birth to her pups, she will return to being hostile and broody until they are several weeks old, so she should be fed far more frequently and with greater amounts especially towards the end."

Silva was rather appreciative that they had the assistance of the elder apex alpha, unsure what they would have done without the guidance provided. As he was one of your mated alphas, he was compelled to want to comfort you, but your continued aggression towards him made that action impossible. Hopefully you would be able to settle properly within a whelping den and return to your adoring and sweet behavior.

Of course, there were still many other details that needed to be hashed out, such as figuring out what kind of help you would accept during the delivery process. There had to be doctors who were trained specifically to care for omegas, so there was still the matter of figuring out which one they should contact and if that doctor will be trustworthy enough. Omegas were rare, so finding a doctor that was trusted enough to work with omegas would certainly be a rather large task.

The decision was a difficult one, but one that needed to be made regardless.

"I will contact (y/n)'s doctor, Zeta. She is a nose blind beta that has treated several omegas before. Odds are, she has known more omegas than most will ever see in their life. This doctor has been providing medical care to (y/n) since she was no more than a whimpering pup. If anyone is to be trusted with a broody omega, it would be that woman."

"We will send for her immediately and ensure she is paid well."

"Oh, don't bother. She won't let you pay her anyway. She began as (y/n)'s nanny, an extra pair of hands to help rear an omega pup. (Y/n) was one of those omegas who had a clear rank the moment she was born. Some grow and become omegas, (y/n) began as an omega from infancy. As Doctor Zeta showed great skill in handling an adolecent (y/n), I decided to devote resources to ensure all education in medicine was covered. Since then, Doctor Zeta has treated omegas around the world. Even with all the fame, she will always come running if (y/n) needed her to."

Netero smiled as he recalled the nose blind beta, curious to know how the woman has been since he last saw her. She was as brilliant a doctor as she was a nanny, and he knew that she adored his dear omega grandchild as much as he did. Though Dr. Zeta would charge others for the treatment she provided to omegas, she refused to charge anything to treat or asses you.

Netero took out his phone, sending a message to the kind doctor and where he needed her to go in order to treat you. Once he finished that, he set to assisting the Zoldycks in finding a suitable place for a whelping den. There were three possible spots, leading the three locations to be adjusted and filled accordingly with soft items suitable for making a nest for pups. Once the locations were properly prepared, Netero had the doors to your room and nest opened in order to encourage you to seek out a proper place for a whelping den.

You emerged slowly from your nest, being extremely cautious as you sniffed and looked around. When you were satisfied that you were safe and there were no others present, you began your search by visiting each of the three prepared locations in turn and examining the potential bedding. It took five laps to the three spots before you settled on one, quickly scuttling into it and pulling in all of the bedding in reach.

As soon as the Zoldycks saw on the security cameras that you had chosen a whelping den, they ensured to have the bedding from the other two locations scented fully and placed outside of your chosen spot. They gave you your space as you sorted through what you wanted and what you didn't want in your nest. When you were finally settled, Silva was chosen as the one to approach and test your temper.

"(Y/n)," Silva called to you gently, trying to not come across as intimidating or angry, "can we talk?"

There was a moment of silence from the whelping den before you cautiously peaked out. The fact that you were not growling or swiping at him gave Silva the confidence to step closer, kneeling down to your level. You somewhat emerged from the den as he crouched, your (e/c) orbs watching his movements keenly.

Before he could question you as to your wellbeing, you fully emerged from the den, affectionately pressing your forehead to his chest. It was clear that the whelping den worked exactly as they had hoped, your broody behavior almost completely gone and your sweet behavior returning in full force. It was a relief to your mates that you no longer behaved in a hostile manner towards Silva, meaning you would likely behave similarly towards your other mates.

"Are you well, (Y/n)?"

"... Hungry..."

"Food will be brought soon."

You hummed and continued to rest your cheek on his chest, relaxing into the side of your alpha. He allowed and encouraged your cuddly behavior, holding you close and listening to you hum happily. It was unexpected for you to be with pups, but they had figured it was an eventuality and couldn't be more pleased.

#kiame-sama #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #reader insert #tw yandere #yandere kikyo #yandere silva #yandere illumi #yandere zeno #yandere Zoldyck family #yandere hxh #hxh yandere #yandere abo #my abo au #tw abo #tw pregnancy #tw poly #tw omegaverse