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written-in-flowers · 8 months

Text

Lightweights: San x Fem!Reader

Pairing: San x fem!Reader

Genre: Smut, fluff/ AU: sugar baby, contracted girlfriend

Word Count: 8k

Summary: San insisted you both drink during your night out, claiming to be the best drinker in ATEEZ. A few shots in, soju isn't the only thing on your minds.

Disclaimer: These works are completely fictitious and for entertainment purposes only. They are not meant to reflect or label the members of ATEEZ in any way. The events within never took place. Thank you.

Tags: polyamory, polycule, sugar baby au, established relationship, drunk sex, elevator sex, car sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex (m. and f. giving/receiving), anal toys, anal sex, vaginal sex, rimming, anal fingering, sex toys, multiple orgasms, multiple positions, spanking, dirty talk, mingi being a menace and seonghwa just wants to sleep, san is a simp for real lol

Previously on Idol Companion

***

Turtleneck or V-neck? You mused over this question in front of the mirror. You knew you’d wear the black denim skirt and tights, and ankle length boots to hide from the cold, but you couldn’t decide on a top. The white turtleneck would look nice with your black coat, and covers your chest from the cold, but the V-neck had a pretty rhinestone design on the sleeves. You stood putting each top over your front to get a sense of how it would look. You always wanted to look your best on dates with the members, since putting yourself together made them happy. San wanted to go somewhere casual, so you didn’t have to completely dress up, but you still wanted to look nice.

“I like the turtleneck, personally,” a deep voice said from your bedroom door.

Yeosang stood leaning against the doorframe, wearing an oversized sweater and baggy sweatpants.

“You think so?”

“It’ll keep you warm,” he said. “The temperature is supposed to drop as it gets later, and San will want to stay out late with you.”

“Hm, good point. Turtleneck, it is.”

You put the v-neck aside, and pulled the sweater over your head, making sure not to wipe it on your makeup. Yeosang came up to you, and you felt him tuck the sweater into your skirt in the back. You always had trouble tucking in shirts in the back. He smoothed out the sweater, fixing the skirt for you. Then he kissed your cheek.

“Beautiful,” he said. You slipped your arms into the long coat he held behind you. “I’m almost jealous of San,” he admitted, “You look so gorgeous. I don’t think he’s going to eat anything; he’ll be too busy looking at you.”

“Oh hush,” you giggled, fixing the coat on your shoulders. “I doubt that.”

“I don’t,” he put his arms around you through the coat, and said, “Will you be coming home or going to his place?”

A few months ago, the members decided to move into larger dorms. Since they couldn’t find one that could house all nine of you, the group split into three separate apartments. Hongjoong lived with Jongho and Wooyoung, and Seonghwa went with Mingi and San. You moved in with Yunho and Yesang, considering their apartment was closer to the dance studio where you volunteered and to your agency building. Also, it guaranteed peace and privacy from your boyfriends. The room you stood in now was significantly larger than the one back in the old dorm. You had space to move around and more storage space. You still saw the other members, and sometimes stayed over with them, but you usually came home after dates.

“We might go to his place,” you said, hands on his chest to play with the strings of his shirt. “It’s been a while since he’s had me to himself. He usually brings Wooyoung to our outings. Plus, he’ll be drinking and we know how he gets when he’s drunk around me.”

“Very inappropriate and touchy,” he added. “I think it was a good idea you weren’t in the drinking episode of Wanteez. It would’ve turned into a YNteez episode very quickly.”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t go,” you told him. “Some of our members have trouble keeping their hands to themselves when they drink.”

“I don’t.”

“I know you don’t.”

“You don’t have to drink with San, you know that. He’d never pressure you to drink.” He said, “I don’t think you should anyways. We have a busy schedule tomorrow, and you have your dance classes after that. You’ll be hungover and…sore.”

He held back a laugh at the last word, and you lightly smacked his shoulder. “I’ll be fine,” you insisted. “I can handle myself pretty well, don’t you think so?”

“If you don’t drink more than four glasses.”

He snickered while you poked his stomach. Right as he peeled away from you, the front door bell sounded through the apartment. Grabbing your phone and purse, you and Yeosang left your room for the wide living room area. San stood near the doorway with Yunho, and you took a moment to admire him. Black hair neatly parted and combed, he wore a white shirt tucked into denim jeans, with a tan coat over his broad shoulders. You couldn’t keep your eyes from noticing his small waist, and the wide shoulders. He and Yunho had been laughing when he noticed you coming over to him. His eyes swept over you and he smiled.

“Ah, look at you,” he pecked your lips, and said, “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you grinned.

“Ready to go?”

“Very ready,” you replied, putting your purse over your shoulder.

You kissed both Yeosang and Yunho goodnight and left with San. A cab awaited the both of you outside, so thankfully you didn't suffer out in the breezy air too long. Good thing you decided on tights for your legs. In the cab, San slipped his fingers between yours and held your hand gently. The small gesture still made your heart flutter years later, and you rested your head on his shoulder as you talked about your day. The Seoul streets flew by you, a city of lights and sounds that didn't penetrate the tinted cab windows. You realized how long it's been since you'd gone out with San alone.

"Wooyoung didn't want to come?" You asked, curious about your missing partner in crime.

"He already has plans with the others," he told you. Sliding his arm over your shoulders, he pulled you closer, "Besides, he knew that I wanted to be alone with you. I can't remember the last time it was the two of us."

"We'd gone rock climbing," you told him, "And then had lunch back at your place."

"Right," he chuckled, "I remember now. You'd been so scared to get to the top."

"It was really high," you defended.

"You were wearing a harness. You wouldn't have fallen!"

"It was still really high up."

He laughed as you smacked his chest, which only amused him more. Pecking your lips, you both talked all the way to the restaurant which was located in Hongdae. People packed the place on a Friday night, taking up large tables and ordering a range of dishes for the portable grills. You and San took a table in the corner where you ordered several side dishes, and slabs of marinated meat to cook on the grill. San also ordered a bottle of soju.

"Should you really drink, San?" You asked, taking off your coat with a grin.

"Why not?"

"Because you're a total lightweight," you replied. "You can't get through three drinks before your neck and cheeks turn red."

"Psh," he dismissed, "I'm the best drinker in Ateez. You'll see."

He isn't. When your meal and bottle arrived, you requested water as well, knowing he'll need it. You told him he did not have to prove anything to you; you personally didn’t enjoy drinking anymore after doing it so many times for partners. Yet, he insisted. Eating from the main dish and various side dishes, you both ate and drank plenty while you talked. You noticed him pouring a bit more in his glass than he should, which prompted you to speak up.

“Sannie-ah,” you said, eating some of the soup you’d both ordered, “That’s your fourth one. Any more and I’ll have to call someone to pick you up off the floor.”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed, his cheeks already tinged pink, “I can handle it.”

“No, you can’t,” you laughed.

You watched him down the shot, and you snatched the bottle from him. There wasn’t much left, so you poured it into your own glass to drink. You bit back the strong taste in your mouth, wincing as it burned down your throat. There. That should help. San frowned for a second, but then his expression changed when he saw the time on his phone. You must've been here longer than you realized, since time often flew by with your boyfriends. A smirk twitched the corner of his mouth, and he took up the empty seat beside you in the booth. His arm going over the back of the bench, you noticed his lean frame underneath the plain white shirt. The cuff off the short sleeve stretched slightly on his muscled biceps, and you couldn’t help noticing his waistline from the tucked in shirt. They all knew how much you liked the simple looks, the clean ones that accentuated their features and silhouettes.

Damn them.

“Have I told you how good you look tonight?” he said in a low voice, pushing hair from your face.

“Multiple times in multiple ways,” you grinned, seeing the flirtation in his eyes. "Once at my place, once on the way here, and another time you said it after your first drink. But, you can tell me a few more times if you want."

He laughed, and leaned into you, "I'd prefer to show you, actually."

You could smell the alcohol on his breath, but you didn’t mind it as he planted his lips on yours. San toned down the public displays of affection usually, but when you added alcohol into the mix, he was all over you. The flowing drinks made it easier to lose yourself in his warmth. It helped you care less about the people around you as you kissed. He pecked your lips a few more times, then you spoke.

“It’s late,” you murmured, feeling your head swim from the drinks in front of you. You reached for water, hoping to all the gods that it helped. “We should get going before they kick us out.”

“Let’s get a cab,” he said, kissing down to your neck. You glanced around the restaurant to see the sparse crowd not noticing you two. “I don’t think I could walk straight if I stood up,” he laughed, and you knew he wasn’t lying.

“Alright, I’ll call the cab,” you replied. San’s apartment isn’t very far, so it won’t be an expensive ride. You’d gotten out your phone to search for a ride when you felt a hand touch your thigh. “San-ah,” you giggled, pushing his hand from the hem of your skirt, “What are you doing?”

“Showing you how pretty I think you are,” he murmured. His fingers felt up the side of your thigh, and he grunted, “Did you have to wear tights tonight?”

“It’s cold outside.”

The weather had gotten chillier by nightfall, and you knew you'd feel it once you went outside. Clearly, your tights threw a wrench into whatever after-dinner plans San had for you. Yet, this new layer of clothing did not stop him from feeling up the side of you. Thankfully, you both sat in a booth by the wall instead of in the middle of the restaurant. As much as you enjoyed his warm hands and lips on your skin, this isn’t the place to start anything, especially with so many people around.

“San,” you lifted his face from your neck to make him look at you, “I’m calling a cab. Keep your hands to yourself.”

“But I thought you liked it when I touched you in public,” he teased, emphasizing it with a gentle squeeze close to your ass. “I’ve done it when we’re sitting in vans together with the other members or when we’re in a dressing room.”

“That’s different,” you said, using an app to get a cab ride from the restaurant to your apartment. “The other members are there, and we’re usually separated by a curtain or something.”

He grunted, “Fine.” He gave up and kissed you one final time, “Call the cab. I want to go home anyways.”

"Already ahead of you, love."

He stayed quiet, studying you as you called a cab. When you finished ordering a ride, San spoke again.

"I think I'm in danger," he said, eyes on you lovingly.

"How so?" You asked, anticipating another suggestive answer.

"Because I'm in love with you," he replied, moving close to you and kissing you again. "And that's unfair."

"How so?"

"Because being in love with you is like nothing I've felt before," he insisted. "I don't think I can see myself really loving anyone else. I look at other people and…they don't hit me the way you do. Yeah, they're pretty and all that, but they don't spark anything inside me."

"San-ah, I'm sure that's not true," you replied gently. "You'll find some other person you don't have to share with anyone, and they'll make you happier than I ever could."

You didn't want to tell a sensitive, drunk San that you constantly thought of the day your contract ends. It will likely be once the members start enlisting or disband to start solo careers. Of course, you can continue seeing them even after this, but it won't be the same. Perhaps you're simply greedy. Perhaps you don't want to have to jump between all of them. Or perhaps you have fallen so deep and so hard that the thought of being parted breaks your heart. You didn't want to tell him that you feared living without him, or any of the other members; that your world will stop turning and your heart will be so broken it'll never heal. Every relationship you had ended, whether painfully or amicably. You didn't want yours with the boys to end. Never. Ever.

"No, I won't," he said. "Even if I did meet another woman someday, I wouldn't love her the way I love you. I'd never do that to you. You're so special to me," he pecked your lips. "To all of us…but mostly me…even if you're Hongjoong biased."

You laughed at the last part and kissed him again. "I'm a group stan. I told you that," you laughed, nuzzling his nose.

"Eh," he said unconvinced, "The fact that you let him cum inside you tells me differently."

"That was one time," you exclaimed, laughing at his smirk.

Then, that dark lust came to his eyes, "Maybe tonight I can cum in you too? I love thinking about my cum dripping from that tight ass to your pussy-"

"-San!" You gasped at the lewd statement, but didn’t stop him from leaning into your neck.

"I love doing anal with you-" he murmured against your skin as he kissed you.

"-San-" they knew what dirty talk did to you, and it was working now.

"-Your ass is so tight and soft," he continued, hunger slipping into his tone. "The only thing I love more is your wet, sensitive pussy."

"San, maybe we should wait until we get home, yeah?" you said, gripping onto his shirt sleeve to keep yourself still. His arm flexed under your touch, and you gripped him. That alone made your thighs squeeze together, even with his hands starting to roam them again.

When your phone pinged to notify you that the cab arrived, you guided San outside and let him get into the cab first. Unlike most, the cab driver didn't put the inside light on. This meant San's hands could wander your body freely. You tried not meeting the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror as San pulled your legs over his lap. A hint of embarrassment came when you realized he might be watching, and did not want to confirm it. San captured your lips into another kiss, deeper than the last, with his tongue slipping over yours. The taste of the copious amounts of soju fueled this new kiss; you felt yourself becoming intoxicated all over again. Heat rose to your neck and to cheeks as he palmed your chest. The touch of your tongues caused a soft moan that encouraged San further.

“Love you so damn much,” he muttered between kisses. He slipped a hand beneath your skirt, gripping the top of your thigh and massaging a thumb there. “I can’t wait until we’re alone.”

“Sannie-ah…” you nervously looked over to the driver, and noticed the white earbuds he wore. Is that safe? You were sure it wasn’t, but he must be used to couples in his backseat.

“You sound so cute when you say my name like that,” he groped your inner thigh close to your sex. “Keep saying it like that.”

He tugged down the collar of your turtleneck to plant kisses there. The hand on your thighs went up to your chest, cupping your breast underneath your jacket. You whined his name again, and he gave a low growl. Nearly sitting in his lap, you felt a familiar bulge press to the backs of your thighs and couldn’t resist pushing against it. The slight touch of his fingers brushing your pussy brought out another gasp. The very tips of his fingers rolled around the top of your sex; they purposefully kept their pressure light, almost ghostly in how they traced your slit. You couldn’t help continuing to grind into his groin; the low groans he let out enticed you further. You wanted him badly. With the influence of soju and San’s hard body, your hesitation broke down piece by piece.

“You just wait until I can get these off you,” San said in your ear, taking the lobe between his teeth for a soft tug. “I’m going to fuck you until you’re absolutely cock drunk from it,” he continued rubbing your pussy and watching you struggle to keep yourself together. “You won’t be able to string a coherent sentence together when I’m done with you.”

“I don’t doubt it,” you sighed, pecking down his neck. “You know me well enough to make it happen.”

He smirked, “Indeed, I do.” He pinched your chin so you looked at him, “I love you, YN. So much. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner. I’d never trade you for anything in the world.”

This small declaration of love confused you, but you chalked it up to his drunkenness taking over. He kissed you one more time, tongue sliding on your lower lip before he spoke again.

“You mean a lot to us,” he whispered, dipping his fingers further down to cup your entire sex, “And to me. When I met you, I never thought…never thought you’d want me.”

“You’re kidding,” you laughed, eyes falling closed at his touches. You started kissing along his jawline, going down to his neck. Inhaling the cologne clinging to his clothes and skin, you became nearly drunk off it alone. “How could I not want The Choi San?” you giggled between kisses, “Sex Appeal of Ateez?”

He snickered at your words. “No, I’m not. You're beautiful, and older and more mature than me. You suit Hongjoong-hyung or Seonghwa-hyung better,” he said. “So, when you kissed me on our date,” he stopped touching you, “It was the happiest moment in my life. I couldn’t believe that not only did I debut as an idol, but I had this gorgeous woman telling me she wanted me to touch her.” In the half light of the city outside, you saw him observing your features, “You do remember that day, right?”

“I do,” you grinned, going back to kissing and grinding on him as the taxi went through the streets. “You were so cute. I never thought you’d be the shy type.”

“I was around you. I think we all were. Going on dates as a group was fine until I was actually alone with you,” he went back to circling your pussy, “And having to pretend I didn’t notice what you were wearing.”

You smirked to yourself, “You mean that crop top and shorts?”

“That one,” he groaned pathetically, “I didn’t want you to think I was a pervert, so I tried not looking but…oh my god, Noona…” he exhaled deeply, “You looked so good. You always do. You could be wearing anything, and I get weak.” He pressed his thumb to your clit, and you thought you might lose control right then. “I remember wanting to rip it all off you, and fuck you right there in the tent.”

“And I remember noticing,” you nipped at the base of his throat, which made him hiss sharply, “Noticing how you kept your eyes on mine? How you opened doors for me just to watch me walk through them? I kept hoping you’d at least kiss me.”

“Well, now you don’t have to hope,” he sneered, pecking your lips, “Because all I do is kiss you.”

Your first date alone with San. You remembered it fondly: a nice picnic date near the Han River, where you went bike riding and sat in the park. You smiled in your next kiss. You recalled him renting a tent for the park, where you both bought snacks and sat in the shade. You talked for ages while he played music from his phone. It’d been a sweet day with a younger, slimmer San who hadn’t grown so much yet. You kissed him deeply as you thought about it. You’d thought he’d at least kiss you, but San hardly touched you. Perhaps he had first date nerves, since then the following date, he kissed you on the beach underneath a blanket of stars.

Thankfully, the cab reached your street before anything was taken out. San, too preoccupied with keeping his hands on your body, hadn’t noticed the cab stopping. Your cheeks burning hotly, you took money from your purse to pay the cab driver, then slid off San’s lap. He nearly chased you to the building’s front doors, crashing into you from behind while you pressed the elevator button. The only person within viewing distance was the building’s security guard, who appeared far too focused on the screens at his desk.

“Did you have to wear so many clothes?” San asked, already untucking your shirt before the doors even opened. “Are you trying to torture me?”

“It’s cold outside,” you pouted, kissing his lips. “Did you want me to freeze just so you can see my tits?”

“I would’ve kept them warm,” he smiled, the words making both of you laugh.

His arms went around you the moment the elevator doors opened. Wrapped in San’s arms all the senses hit you at once. His soft hands roamed from front to your backside, a gentle squeeze making you jump and giggle into the kiss. His cologne, not as strong as before, mingled with his natural scents and the alcohol on his breath. You could taste his drinks on your tongue, as well as him tasting your own. You felt yourself becoming intoxicated by him as he pushed you against the elevator wall. A rush of adrenaline went through you realizing at any point during this ride, someone may stop the elevator to get in. You thought of someone walking in as San’s lips fell to your neck, kissing and sucking softly and his hands grabbing your ass. Your pussy throbbed imagining it. They’d be surprised to see San lifting one leg to his waist and standing between your thighs. This position encouraged you to brush into his groin, where you felt a small hardness beginning to form. His moans tickled your neck, and you couldn’t help giggling as your eyes fell shut.

“You feel so damn good,” he groaned, the elevator getting closer and closer to your floor.

“You do too.”

You smirked and ran your hand down your front of his shirt to his crotch. There, you cupped the bulge pressing to your sex and heard him moan. Gently, you caressed his length as it grew harder and harder. The rough fabric of his jeans kept you from really feeling him, and your mouth watered thinking of what’s underneath them. San’s breathing became heavier when he felt you unbuckle his belt with one hand, and he slipped his hands underneath your skirt. Your skin prickled at the cold fingers brushing your warm cheeks, kneading them delicately. It added a new sensation to your arousal, along with sticking your own hand between jeans and boxers. San pushed up to your hand when you did this. His cock twitched at your chilled hand, causing him to moan into your mouth in the next kiss.

“I want it,” you whimpered between kisses, still rubbing him from base to tip and back. “Please, Sannie-ah, let me have it. I want it so badly, please?”

“I’ll give it to you right here, if you want,” he chuckled. He turned you around suddenly, pinning you flat to the wall as he lifted the back of your skirt. He hummed approval when he saw the lace and satin lavender bottoms through your see through tights. Unfortunately, they kept a smooth barrier between you and him.

“Hm, it seems we both had the same idea.”

“I like to wear something pretty when one of you takes me out,” you admitted, pushing into his bulge again. “It makes me feel sexy.”

“You could wear the cheapest underwear money can get,” he said, giving your ass a sharp smack so you yelped, “And you’d still look so fucking sexy."

You trembled once he sunk to the floor. A slight pinch to the seam of your tights was followed by a loud rip.

"San!" You laughed in surprise, a soft whine suddenly cutting you off.

"I love your ass, you know that?" He asked, tearing them further so a large hole gave him access to you. "I fuck you from behind just to watch it bounce on me."

You gasped when he cupped both cheeks to spread them. This only made your panties go further in, so your buttocks stuck out. You should've worn a thong, you thought idly. San is one of the few members who takes every possible chance to grope, pinch, or smack your ass. Him palming and rubbing you there caused your sex to throb inside your panties. It clenched and unclenched to grab onto something, anything, that'll bring you pleasure. San knew this, and wasted no time in sliding his hand between your thighs. Kissing trails up your ass, he kept one hand massaging your pussy. A soft whine left your lips when he pushed your panties aside to slide his fingers over the soaked folds. The very nub of your clit feels sensitive, hard and stiff to the fingers pressing on it. You couldn’t help squirming in front of San, who took the chance to slide two fingers inside you. The both of you groaned in unison: you from the smooth fingers filling you, and San from feeling your tight walls pull him in. He gradually started with a few pumps, and you arched your back to stick your ass in his face.

“Isn’t that what you really want?” you whimpered, “My ass?”

“Absolutely.”

You squealed when he shoved his tongue right to your hole. Sticky and wet, it slid around the rim slowly as he fingered you. The sounds the two sensations brought became soft breaths in the steel box. Flustered, embarrassed whines that blushed at the man eating your ass.

“Should’ve made you wear a plug,” his voice was muffled by the cheeks on his face. He used his free hand to pull one aside and gently traced the rim again, “Your ass always looks so pretty with that little gem plug you have.”

He means the heart-shaped plug he kept in his room. He’d bought it specifically for you to use with him. Many, many pictures on his phone feature that same plug stuck between your ass cheeks. He kept his fingers probing you at the same delicate pace as his tongue, and you thought you might finish right there.

However, this pleasure ended once the elevator doors opened to your floor.

San guided you out of the elevator and into the hallway. Being nearly one in the morning, neither of you ran into anyone as you kissed and fondled each other to the front door. You could feel cold air going up your skirt, which added to the fires in your stomach. Seonghwa and Mingi should be sleeping right now, so you wouldn’t be disturbing anyone when San unlocked the door behind you to let you in. The entry light left on, you saw San clearly as he quickly removed his coat, and then yours. In your alcoholic haze, you both struggled to remove your shoes as you walked into the apartment. Nothing slow or gentle as your hunger for each other grew throughout the place. Walking past Seonghwa’s room, you entered San’s with a swift close of the door.

“San!” you squeaked when he nearly tossed you onto his bed.

“Shh,” he muttered, pulling your sweater off to see your bra underneath. “Mingi’s next door. We wouldn’t want to wake him up, would we?”

Your jaw dropped when he removed his own shirt, showing off the chiseled, defined body he worked hard to maintain. You ran your hands over his stomach and chest, taking in soft, relaxed muscles against your fingertips before going to his loose belt. You settled yourself on the edge of the bed and pulled him closer. Standing in front of you, San hastily pulled down his pants and boxers, and you didn't hesitate to reach for him.

You didn't need tons of light to see San's length. Casted in shadows from his angle, you still saw the thick shaft and spongy head of his cock. You stroked him a few times before he straddled your lap, putting his dick within inches of you. You ran your tongue up the underside vein, which you imagined pumping blood further and making him harder. San helped you unclasp your bra right away, the lacy fabric falling away while you kissed his tip. He groaned seeing your breasts exposed, and you took the chance to lick over his member again. You continued doing it to hear the erotic moans falling from San’s lips. You could tell he forced himself to stay still as you wet him with your tongue. San always did his best to keep things comfortable for you, sometimes at the expense of his own arousal. Unlike Hongjoong, he had difficulty holding himself back. The smooth skin tightened further the longer you flicked and teased him; you gave gentle sucks underneath the head where it is most sensitive. You'd been about to take the tip in your mouth before San leaned back and sat on the bed.

"Come here," he said, indicating you should come to him, which you did.

You laid down across the bed where he sat against the pillows, and hovered over his flushed length. Sinking your mouth onto his tip, you tasted the throbbing veins against your tongue and beads of precum leaking from him. A hand around his base, you moved as far down as your throat allowed and moaned around it. San did his best to keep down his groaning, panting and whining as you sucked him lightly. You loved how he sounded; it stroked your ego knowing you could do this to him. You pulled him from your mouth, saliva on your chin, as you stroked him with both hands; one rolling over his head while the other stroked his shaft. The twinges of pain mixed with pleasure turned San into a mewling mess, his grip on the sheets tightening as your hands worked him easily. In the half light, you could see his length glistening as your hand coated him in his own precum. It stuck to your hand, and you couldn’t help smearing it over his sensitive balls. When you started sucking his tip and moving your hand in a twisting motion, the needy whimpers became music to your ears.

You jumped suddenly when he pulled your skirt up over your torn tights. Long fingers slid up and down the crack of your ass, occasionally dipping further to your pussy, through your underwear. You couldn't help raising your hips to get more of San’s hand, but he kept it so light you thought you might go insane. Soft fingers then pushed the panties to the side, and pressed into the bundle of wetness between your folds. He spread it around with his fingers, occasionally brushing over your clit and entrance each time he circles it. You kept milking him with your hand and mouth just to hear him mutter and grit his teeth in every burst of pleasure. The combination of your mouth and your sex turned San desperate for more relief, having him pushing into you while he kept you still by the hair. His fingers took the same careful pace, eventually sliding two inside to fill you.

“How’s that?” he asked breathily. “Is this okay, angel?”

“Yes,” you panted, pushing back into his fingers. “Go faster. Please?”

“Faster, huh?” he smirked, “Like this?”

Suddenly, those two fingers pumped in and out quickly. They prodded deep inside you, curling and wiggling the tip each time they went in. Thankfully, you kept yourself muffled with his dick so neither of you woke anyone up. San occasionally stopped to withdraw his fingers and gently rolled them around before plunging back inside. They all knew how much you liked the teasing motion, and now used it whenever possible. In return, you knew San loved your ass, so you occasionally shook it for him to slip out and give it a light smack.

“Again,” you muttered, slowly jerking him as you whimpered. “Again…do it harder…”

So he did. San started switching between swatting your ass to swatting your cunt. Each hit sparked arousal inside you that fueled your own need. Your cheeks felt tender and hot by the time you lifted your head from his lap to capture his lips. San never pulled away from your kisses. Never.

"I want to ride it," you said, playing with his head with one hand. "Please, Sannie-ah?"

"You don't need my permission, baby." He lifted you until you knelt upwards, and said, "Here, let’s make you more comfortable first.”

Laying you on your back, San shed off the last bits of clothing you wore. It reminded you briefly of the orgy again, and you reached out to undress him too. You worried for a moment that your collective sighs and moans might’ve disturbed Mingi or Seonghwa, but when nobody came to the door, you didn’t worry about it too much. Once you were both fully naked, San sat up with you in his lap. He fished for the condom in his bedside drawer while you planted kisses up and down his neck, eager for more of him.

It took you only a minute to unwrap and roll on the condom for him. You immediately rubbed the tip on your throbbing sex before sinking onto it. San and you both held back the moans of relief in the quiet room, but you weren’t sure how long that would last. Not with the way San’s cock filled you completely, and the way it stretched you enough for you to feel him there. Hands braced on his muscular shoulders, you bounced carefully on San as you both lost yourself in drink and lust. The light smacking of skin on skin sounded in the room, adding more noise to your moaning, and you went faster. San’s hands once again went behind your back to your ass, and held onto it while you rode him.

“You really love my ass, don’t you?” you chuckled, bending down to kiss him as you whirled your hips around.

“I do,” he groaned in the kiss, licking at your bottom lip. “Ever since I saw that picture of you,” he said, “The one of you half-dressed on the bed and-and you could see your ass in those lace panties.” He tugged on the lip softly, then whispered, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and all the things I wanted to do to you.”

You remembered your portfolio photos. Every agency required Companions to have headshots or photos of themselves in their portfolios to send to interested clients. Sungmi, your agent, told you that having a few risque photos never hurt anyone. Most Companions chose beach photos, but you thought bedroom shots might appear more intimate. You wore a satin robe in most of them, only giving hints to the lingerie underneath. One such photo depicted you lying on your stomach, the curves of your body perfectly visible in the angle, and the robe only a few inches over your bottom. Thinking about it now, you realized you haven’t seen that photo since KQ returned the booklet back to you.

“Like fuck me after a night drinking?” you sneered, going between grinding and riding him fully to see his eyes roll back. “Like this?”

“Ye-yes,” he breathed, smacking your ass again. “But, you’re usually facing away from me…”

You knew then what he wanted, and you’d give it to him. Sliding off him for a few moments, you turned your back to him and let him slide back into you. In this new position, your toes curled and you gripped his knees tightly. You certainly felt him now, and your jaw clenched tight to keep the volume down. San put his hands on your waist to guide you at the steady pace he wanted, despite how torturous it’d be for you both. It became difficult to keep your voice down in the sleeping dorm the moment things picked up, and the heat burned too hot to simmer down. The moans you’d give became small squeals held back by your pursed lips, every stroke getting you closer to nearly losing yourself.

"Don't be quiet," San said, gripping your waist and pushing up into you rapidly. "I want them to hear you. Let them know how good I'm making you feel."

"But Sannie…" you looked over your shoulder, pouting at him and slowing your pace to gentle rocking, "What if we wake them up?"

"Good," he smirked, slapping your ass again. "They wake me up when they fuck you in their rooms." He went back to forcing himself into you, skin slapping skin in the process. When you started letting your moans go, he went faster, "That's it. Just like that. Let them hear you, baby."

"San, San," you huffed out his name, leaning forward and bouncing on him steadily, "San, that feels so good. Please, don't stop."

"Oh yeah? This feels good, baby?" He started kneading and palming your ass, and occasionally swiping his thumb over your hole. "What about that? That too?"

"Mhm," you nodded.

"I didn't hear you, angel. You need to speak up a bit."

"Yes!" You whimpered, rutting against him when your thighs started burning. "Yes, it does."

You're sure at least Mingi could hear you by now. San's bed knocked into the wall behind you each time you bounced, and nothing held you back from saying his name. When San reached your g-spot in the right angle, you started rubbing your clit on your own for an extra dose of pleasure. He didn't stop you like most members might. He pulled your back to his chest, knees drawing up to lift your legs into the air, and locked you against him. This new position arched your back and squeezed your eyes closed. San put one hand around your throat, neither squeezing or restricting you, and the other on your clit.

"Say my name," he grunted, thrusting as deep as he could, "Say my name, baby."

"San," you breathed, unable to fathom the amount of pleasure coursing inside you, "Sannie-ah, San…"

"Keep going. Say it while you cum on my cock."

And you did. In a few more strokes right into your core, you came. You held on tightly to the arms wrapped around you, fingers pressing into his muscles, as your orgasm rolled through you. You huffed, panted and whined out his name as you knew he liked, reminding him who was making you feel this amazing. Even when your clit started pinching from sensitivity, San kept going.

"Sannie-ah," you whimpered to him, "That feels so good, please don't stop."

"I-I won't, baby," he assured you, kissing your neck.

As you came down from your high, a voice broke the momentary silence.

'-Say my name, say my name, say my naaaame-'

The familiar track came muffled from the room next to San’s, and you couldn't help laughing at it. Mingi must not be asleep after all. It took San a minute to recognize the song, and he suddenly burst into a laugh. He slipped out of you and you rolled to face him.

"That bastard," he laughed, the song continuing into the chorus.

You shook your head as you laughed with him. "I think we woke him up."

"Well, he better find earplugs," he started repositioning himself so his head was near your sex, "Because I'm far from done with you."

He brought one thigh onto his head and buried his face into your sopping sex. You saw his dick, no longer in a condom, leaking in front of you and reached for it. San kept one knee up so you could take him even further into your mouth. The combination of him rolling his tongue on your sensitive sex, and his dick touching the back of your throat brought on another wave of arousal. You couldn't stop yourself from moaning around his tip each time it sunk into your mouth, nor could you help grinding into his face for more of his tongue. Mingi continued playing the song, and no doubt laughed about his own joke. You managed to block it out when San flicked his tongue between your clit and your entrance, brushing on the former until you firmly sucked him off.

"You want me to put your plug in, babe?" He asked, pecking kisses on your thigh.

"Please."

"Roll over for me."

You rolled onto your stomach and lifted your ass into the air as San rifled around in a box under the bed. Since the move from the dorm, the members split up the toys everyone used in the gray box. Yunho had his own collection, but not all the members were as enthusiastic as him. San found the heart-shaped gem in his own box, and brought it onto the bed. After making sure you were comfortable on a stack of pillows, San took up the lube from the bed and used the silver plug to rub it over you. You rocked back and forth whenever he pushed the very tip inside, muttering about how much you needed him there. This only caused him to pull away, or lightly tap it between your cheeks. He kissed up your back to your shoulder, then pressed his lips to your ear as he pushed it into your ass. You gave a breathy whimper when it fully entered you, and you thought you might cum from just him brushing on you alone.

"That feels good, huh?" He asked smugly. He started pushing and pulling the toy, and you wriggled your hips. "Answer me."

"It does," you muttered. "It really does, Sannie." You grinded into his cock, feeling it up on the slick folds, "But don't you want to fill up both my holes?"

"Oh, how could I forget?" He cooed, grabbing a new condom. "We wouldn't want to leave you empty, would we?"

You heard him unwrap the packet, and waited until you jumped, feeling him slide inside. On the other side of the wall, you heard Mingi replay the song a second time. You buried your face in the pillow, your amusement mingling with the pleasure inside you. San pumped into you a few times before he noticed.

"Are you laughing?" He asked, laughing with you.

"I'm sorry," you giggled. "It's funny."

"Is this funny too?" He rested over you, and began slamming himself into you quickly as the bed began knocking into the wall. "Hm, is it?"

"No, Sannie," you cried, biting back more laughter. "No, it's not."

"I don't know," he buried his face into your shoulder to stifle his chuckles, "It sounds like you think it is."

'Say my name, say my name, say my naaame.'

Both of you couldn't control your laughter. "But don't stop," you rolled your hips into his, "Please, Sannie-ah?"

"I won't, baby. Don't worry."

Suddenly, the music stopped. San continued pumping into you, and you easily went back to the rhythm before another song came on.

'Hey, don't stop all night long! So you and I can't stop!'

"Is he purposefully skipping through them?" San said, keeping himself buried inside you.

"I think so," you panted, putting his arms around you so he fully rested on top of you. Your bodies connected together, the anal plug being tapped by his pubic bone, you turned your head to his ear, "But don't pay attention to him. Focus on me…me and my tight pussy…"

"I am, baby," he kissed your cheek softly, "I definitely am." His hands slipped between you and the plush pillows underneath, giving them a soft squeeze. "You looked so hot in that video," he grunted, going back to his rough pace, sending shocks of pain and pleasure through you, "I couldn't stop looking at you... I would've fucked you right there, if you'd asked."

Yes, the 'Don't Stop' music video. You often made cameos in your boyfriends' music videos, playing as small side characters that add to the overall lore of their universe. Usually, you played some kind of helpful character that doubled as a love interest. In 'Don't Stop', you were a friendly pawn shop owner who helped the members get a deed to their pirate ship. You'd worn a tank top under a cropped jacket…

And shorts. Very small, very tight shorts that you had glued down so they did not ride up.

"Bet it was my ass you kept looking at, huh?" You hadn't been in the same scene as San, but he watched the footage later. "You love watching my ass any chance you get." You clenched your walls around him, gaining a low groan from him. "My round, tight ass that you love spanking?"

"Yes, baby," he said, pushing the plug like a button, "Yes, it was. I couldn't help it."

You muffled your moans with the pillow as he started going faster. Dissatisfied with this, San grabbed your hair and yanked your head up so you had no choice but to add your moans to the sounds in the apartment. The knocking headboard went into competition with Mingi’s stereo, and yours and San's groans soon joined in. Your fingers dug into the satin pillows underneath you, unable to contain the orgasm both his cock and the toy teased into the open. San pounded you quickly, grunting and growling as he came closer to his own climax. Both of you became so lost in your own pleasures that you didn't hear a door opening somewhere outside. All of a sudden Mingi’s stereo turned off, and hushed voices began arguing before Mingi’s door closed again.

"San-ah!" Seonghwa pounded on the bedroom door, "Finish her off and go to sleep! We have work in the morning!"

"Fuck, he's right," San gritted, keeping the same pace.

He wasn't wrong. You had dance classes to give in the afternoon, and you liked to be well rested before handling a group of toddlers.

“Sannie-ah,” you squeaked, kneeling up and putting his hands on your chest, “I want you to cum. I like hearing you cum.”

“I’m going to, baby,” he said, bottoming up into you and still playing with your anal plug, “I’m so fucking close. Your pussy feels so…so…fuck-ah!”

Both of you came quickly. You supposed the constant interruptions and the pressure had each of you bursting immediately. Shakily, you gradually climbed down from your high and collapsed onto his bed. Sweat beaded your forehead, and you could feel the exhaustion in your muscles. The plug inside you became uncomfortable once your body settled down, but you felt too tired to remove it. Luckily, San didn't mind doing it for you. You remained still in his arms while he gingerly pulled it from you, planting gentle kisses on your lips and cheeks. You sighed in relief when it came out, still feeling it there but you knew the sensation would go away.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, pulling the covers over you to keep away the chill.

"About what?"

"Not going longer," he said, bringing you closer to him. "I don't like doing it too quickly."

"Sannie-ah," you laughed, resting beside him, "We felt each other up in the cab on the way here. You ripped my perfectly good tights and fingered me and ate my ass in an elevator. You brought me home; I gave you a blowjob, I rode you, we 69-ed, and you fucked me from behind with a plug in my ass. How on earth is that not enough?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. He kissed you again, "I like fucking you until you can't think straight. I don't want to leave you unsatisfied."

"Not every time has to be porn quality, San," you assured him. "I'm more than satisfied, trust me." You kissed him again, then found energy to slip from the bed. "Besides, we have things to do tomorrow."

He sighed, "You're right."

You pecked his lips, then grabbed a duvet from nearby to wrap around yourself. "I'm gonna wash up, then I'll come back."

"Fine," he said, settling into a comfortable position and shutting his eyes.

Leaving San in his room, you went across the hall to the bathroom. In the white tiled room, you found the small toiletry bag you kept in each apartment and began removing your smudged makeup. So much for waterproof mascara. When you finished, and started tying up your hair, someone knocked. You assumed it'd be San, so you said:

"Come in."

It wasn't San. Mingi opened the door a crack to see you standing naked in front of the glass shower door, waiting on the water to warm up. His eyes swept over you, putting every inch of you to memory before walking to the toilet. You could see the hint of sleepiness in his eyes and immediately felt guilty.

"I'm sorry we woke you," you told him. "I tried being quiet, but San…"

"It's okay," he mumbled. He tugged down the front of his pants right as you stepped into the shower. "I don't blame you."

"I still feel bad about it," you closed your eyes as the gentle fall of water soothed your warm skin. "We had a bit too much to drink, and he always gets touchy with me when he drinks."

Mingi finished with the toilet and turned to wash his hands. "I'm not upset with you, angel. I like listening to you get absolutely wrecked by someone else. Just not at two in the morning."

"I'm sorry," you repeated, grabbing a small body wash bottle. "To be fair, you did blast music that completely threw us off."

"I thought it might speed things up."

"Did it have to be that song, though?" You smiled, the lyrics playing in your head once again.

"I thought it'd be funny."

"Well, your plan worked because I barely concentrated."

You saw him turn around and lean on the sink. "Did you cum?"

You shook your head, recognizing the lustful drawl in his voice. "I did. Twice."

You heard the door behind you open, and Mingi scanned over your nude form again. "Good," he said, eyes on your breasts, "I wouldn't have minded helping you get there if he hadn't."

"Go to bed, Mingi," you sneered, sliding the door closed once more. "You need to sleep."

"I'm right next door," he replied, walking away, "If you want a third one."

"Goodnight, Mingi-ah."

"I wouldn't mind-"

"-Goodnight, Mingi," you said more firmly, keeping the amusement out of your voice.

"Night."

You shook your head and laughed, then finished washing up. Pulling the duvet over your body again, you peeked into a bedroom down the hall. Seonghwa laid on his back in his bed, about to put on his fluffy headphones before he saw you opening the door. He smirked at you.

"Is it my turn?" He joked, smiling at you.

"No," you stuck out your tongue at him, "I came to say 'goodnight'. I'm sorry if we woke you up."

"I have another way you can say goodnight to me." He sat up, "You two woke me up from such a good sleep. I don't know if it'll be easy for me to get back into it now. I think I might need a special sleeping method to help me, you know, clear my head."

"Try some soothing sounds," you said. "Goodnight, Seonghwa."

"Night, love."

You left his room and went back to San, who'd fallen asleep waiting on you. Kissing his shoulder, you slithered back into the bed and wrapped your arms around him from behind. He gave a grumbled sound of content, putting his arm over yours and you snuggled closer. Basking in his warm touch, you drifted off to sleep before you even realized. You should have known a night out drinking with San would end this way.

Your boyfriends have a hard time keeping their hands to themselves.

#ateez #san x reader #choi san x reader #ateez smut #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #choi san #san smut

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daydreaming-nerd · 19 days

Text

Young Love and Old Money (Cassian x Female! Reader) Part 7

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 8

AN: Damn we on part 7? That happened fast. I just realized that this series is going to be longer than I thought. ALSO, highly suggest clicking on the link to see the readers dress bc it adds to the plot and it was hard to desribe lol.

Summary: She was the most beautiful woman in Prythian, sister to the High Lord of Night, and now she is the soon-to-be wife of Eris Vanserra. Despite her many titles and her aura of unattainability, Cassian can't help but fall deeply in love with the princess of the Night Court. But will it be enough to stop her impending wedding to a man who is sure to destroy her from the inside out?

Warnings: Sexism, heavier SA in this one again, a little bit of exhibitionism, jealously, Smut

Word Count: 6,009

“If you don’t stop right now Rhys is going to kill you for being late!” I giggle watching Cassian pepper kisses all over my neck through the floor-length mirror. I had simply asked him to button up the back of my dress for me but now he couldn’t keep his hands off me.

“Rhys can wait,” Cassian smirks nibbling under my ear, the scruff of his morning beard tickling my skin.

“I’m sure he can, but it might seem a little suspicious that you’re late considering you’re the most punctual person I know,” I smile running a hand through his hair.

Cassian doesn’t stop pressing loving kisses all over my shoulders and neck. His hands rubbed soothing circles on my hips. His strong chest behind me kept me upright as I watched him ravishing me in the floor-length mirror.

“Cass,” I protested, turning in his arms knowing if I didn’t my newly buttoned dress would be unbuttoned and on his bedroom floor in an instant.

“Alright, alright,” he laughed as I threw my arms over his shoulders to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

“I promise you can kiss me all you want later,” I laughed, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“What about anywhere I want?” he grins, kissing me again.

“Hmmm, maybe,” I tease, tilting my head to the side. Cassian’s hands gripped my waist tighter.

“C’mon princess don’t make me beg,” he said lowly, pressing a kiss to the shell of my ear.

I couldn’t help but let out a small giggle to hide the change in my heart rate, “I wouldn’t mind seeing you on your knees general.” I tease.

“You know I’d crawl to your bed if I had to, princess,” he teased back and the air in the room had become thick and warm.

I push away from him a little, “Cass stop I know what you’re trying to do! Go talk to Rhys before he comes up here to see what’s taking so long!” I laugh.

“Fine, fine,” he shakes his head and follows me out of his room into the hallway.

“What does he want to talk to you about anyways?” I ask as we walk idly towards the kitchen.

“I’m not sure,” he admits. “Probably just catching up on the Illyrian camps I visited with Az earlier.”

“Well remember. Nothing about you and I, as far as he’s concerned Eris and I are counting down the days until the wedding.” I remind him as we round the corner to the kitchen where Azriel sips his morning coffee.

“Hello lovebirds,” Azriel mused, not looking up from his book.

“Hello Az,” I smiled at the shadowsinger.

“I promise to paint a lovely picture of newly engaged bliss, even though I enjoy it,” Cassian assures me as we stop at the door to the balcony.

“Thank you,” I say cupping his cheek. “Now go before Rhys loses his mind,” I say pushing him out the door.

“Ah ah ah not without one of these,” he smirks, pulling me in by my waist for a kiss. Gods I would never get tired of kissing this male.

Without another word, Cassian pulled away and flashed me a charming smile before flaring his wings and taking off into the air. These past few days I had grown to see a new side to the Illyrian that I had never known before. For one, I had never known him to be so sweet and loving and two, I had never seen the male smile so much. Not that I could complain, he did have one of the most dashing smiles I’d ever seen.

“You two are adorable but you make me sick,” Azriel laughed from the kitchen table beside me. I turned my head to find him watching me intently. He tried to mask his face in disgust, but the love in his eyes was a dead giveaway.

“There will be loads of women fawning over your pretty face tonight tonight.” I teased ruffling up his hair. “And you’re a wonderful dancer. I’m sure you’ll find your person soon.” I continue waltzing towards the library.

“So you think I’m pretty?” Azriel teases taking a bite of an apple.

I simply rolled my eyes and shook my head as I exited the room.

Cassian’s pov:

“Cass please sit down,” Rhysand says motioning toward the plush chair in his study, one large enough to accommodate wings of course.

I had known the bastard for hundreds of years and never once had I been afraid of him. But I hadn’t spoken to him since everything happened with me and y/n. I had made sure to keep my mental shields up but I couldn’t stop the irrational fear that Rhys’ next words were going to be, “Are you fucking my little sister?” As he poured us each a glass of whiskey I couldn’t help but feel a bead of sweat dripping down my back.

“I hear you’ve been keeping y/n satisfied,” Rhys drawled, handing me a glass.

Oh shit

“At least that’s what Azriel said the other day when I asked him how you guys were doing with going back and forth to the Autumn Court all the time.” Rhys cocked an eyebrow at my blank expression as I grabbed the glass of whiskey from his hand and sipped it eagerly.

Azriel that motherfucker. I could practically see his smug face as he told Rhys about how “satisfied” I was keeping his little sister. I would be thoroughly kicking his ass today at training.

“Yeah I mean it’s a pretty simple task taking her back and forth.” I shrug trying to shake whatever tension I had from my shoulders. “But she seems to have no quarrel with me, except for one time when I messed up her hair because I flew too fast but that’s about it.” I smile remembering the cute angry look on her face that went along with her messed-up updo.

“Ever the little princess,” Rhys rolled his eyes and relaxed into his chair. “Is she happy with Eris?”

I tried to look collected as Rhys asked the question I had been dreading. The entire flight here I considered telling him everything. I thought that maybe he could help her, or at least talk to Beron. But then I thought about how I would have to explain why I cared so much, and Rhys would be much less inclined to help if he knew I was fucking his little sister. Hell if y/n ever did figure this out would Rhys even allow me to be with her? I was a bastard after all.

Then of course there was y/n. She would never forgive me for betraying her trust, and I wasn’t willing to lose it. More importantly, I thought back to what she said the day that Eris first tried to take advantage of her.

Cassian please, don’t take my choices away from me…

Cauldron how those words had struck me like lightning when she said them. The poor girl had never been given free will to make her own choices until recently. First, she was closed off from the world because of her beauty, then she was under the mountain. Now she was engaged to Eris and I’d rather die than be another person who tried to control her.

“She seems to be,” I reply to Rhys. “I mean she did agree to marry him.”

Lies

“And Eris? Will he be a suitable husband for her? I’ve heard stories of him, some good, some bad. I was hesitant at first to let him near her till I remembered what others have said about me.” he says with a hint of sadness. “I thought I’d give him a chance, in hopes that Feyre will give me one someday.”

My heart broke for my brother, “I’m sure she will brother,” I say warmly. “But Eris seems quite smitten with y/n. He’s already sent her a large trove of dresses and jewels.”

Not entirely a lie.

“I hope you’re right Cass,” Rhys said with a sad smile. “But I’m glad my sister is happy. After all she’s endured she deserves it. Will you be joining us tonight?” he asks, referring to the engagement ball.

“Have you ever known me to pass up free drinks and beautiful women?” I chide leaning back in my own chair.

“I suppose not,” Rhys laughed, slamming back his whiskey.

y/n’s pov:

Cauldron boil me.

That was the only thought that raced through my head as I stared at myself in the floor-length mirror. For once my lady's maids didn’t get a chance to select the perfect dress for me to wear tonight, as Eris had specifically labeled a dress in the trove he sent me. The dress I now wore.

The fabric itself was beautiful, swaths of chrome of molten gold. It draped and cascaded down my body perfectly, the only problem with the fabric was that there wasn’t enough of it. The high slit and the low back left little to the imagination. Even the top of the dress was skimpy, with only three thin pieces of fabric holding the garment together.

As I exited my bedroom to the foyer to meet Cassian I could only hope that the fireplaces would be roaring on both ends of the vast ballroom tonight as I was already freezing. I find Cassian already waiting for me (per usual), in a night court black jacket that has him looking like pure sex. The only color adorning him is the two red siphons on his hands.

“Absolutely fucking not,” he gawks at my dress, eyes raking up and down my nearly bare body.

“What don't you like it?” I tease doing a spin for him.

His arms pull me close to him, hands wandering all over my exposed skin. The familiar touch of his hands soothes the goosebumps on my too-cold skin as I feel myself leaning into him.

“That’s what he’s making you wear?” he scrutinizes, looking me up and down again.

“Unfortunately yes,” I sigh looking down at the dress myself. Gods I hated this.

“That bastard’s going to have his hands all over you all night,” he grits, turning his head to the side like he doesn’t want me to see the simmering in his eyes.

I reach up to cup his face turning his gaze back to mine, “Cass I know that this isn’t easy. If the roles were reversed the female would be dead by now,” I laugh trying to ease the mood. “If you don’t want to come tonight I’ll understand.”

“No, I’m not leaving you to do this on your own,” he says, placing a hand over my own that rests on his cheek.

“Cass-”

“I’m going y/n,” he assures me.

Secretly and selfishly I was glad he was coming. I would never make him do such a thing. Especially knowing how Eris is going to be. But there was a comfort in knowing that he would be present. A comfort in knowing that at the slightest hint of a scared glance, he would likely burn down the whole court for me.

“Cassian?” I whisper.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Kiss me,” I say, referencing our first kiss, hoping it would bring a smile to his face.

“With pleasure,” he smiled before leaning in for a kiss.

I took every moment and committed it to memory knowing that soon it would be Eris’ lips instead, and they wouldn’t be as tender and sweet. Soon it would be Eris’ hands on me, and they wouldn’t be as warm and strong. I savored every taste of Cassian I got, somehow in that moment falling even deeper in love with him. Cassian kisses me like I’m the air he breathes. He kisses me like every female dreams of being kissed and gods I’ll never get enough.

“When we get home,” I whisper in his ear. “I want you to rip this dress off me and fuck me on every single surface in this gods forsaken house.”

“Be careful princess. You don’t want me at attention in public.” Cassian purs in my ear holding me closer.

“Maybe I do,” I smile, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

“Cruel, wicked female.”

Unlike the last ball when my brother and I arrive, we are one of the first people there, as the ball is being thrown in Eris and I’s honor. I spend the first hour or so making polite conversation until the rest of the crowd shows up. Thankfully the second they do the dancing is in full swing giving me ample time to converse with others as Eris sits on a dias at the end of the room. A place normally reserved for the High Lord alone, but it seems Beron wants to show off this union.

“She’s not here again,” I say to my brother.

Rhys was one of the first people to dance with me tonight and I had never accepted an invitation so happily, well besides Cassian. When my father taught me to waltz Rhys was always there to help me. We must’ve spent hours dancing together while growing up. Dancing with him now was like living out the old days I so dearly wished for.

“How do you know?” Rhys asked me as he spun me around once more.

“I checked the guest list,” I say sadly. “It sounds like she and Tamlin never even leave his mansion.”

“Oh,” my brother says sadly, halting his search for the infamous cursebreaker.

“You should call upon your bargain Rhys. Give her time to get to know you,” I tell him as he lifts me slightly and resumes the dance in time with the others.

“I don’t want to force her to love me,” he admits sadly.

I can’t help but feel my heartbreak. Sure Rhys wasn’t always the best at first impressions given his reputation, but he was an amazing brother and an amazing male. “Rhys please, she’s your mate. Maybe if she meets me I can help her see how amazing you are,” I say hopefully.

“If Tamlin is what makes her happy I won’t stand in her way,” he explains to me and it’s like a punch to the gut. Before I can say anything to ease his pain a voice cuts in from beside me.

“Mind if I cut in?” Azriel asks politely.

“Not at all brother, just don’t step on my dear sister's toes,” Rhysand jests, passing my hand to Azriel’s.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Azriel smiles before leading me up into a waltz.

“What no crowds of women falling all over you?” I tease him as he gracefully moves around the dancefloor.

“I’m actually using you to get away from a particularly nosey one,” he nods his head to a giddy blonde in the corner. She looks far too young for him and way too energetic to catch Az’s interest and I can’t help but laugh.

“Glad to be doing the royal duty of helping my citizens,” I laugh as he spins me in a circle.

“If you really want to help you could give me a kiss,” he tilts his head so his cheek is on full display for me.

“Who would come after you first? Eris, Cassian, or my brother?” I roll my eyes.

“Don’t forget Helion, he's here too,” Azriel laughs and sure enough, out of the corner of my eyes, I can see the High Lord of Day.

“By the cauldron, I’ll never know peace,” I sigh as Az picks me up and twirls me around.

Even though it was the same ballroom as last time this one felt smaller. Every move I made felt more and more observed and scrutinized. On one end I had Eris sitting on a dias watching me like I was a pet he had let off its leash. On the other side stood a very grumpy and brooding Cassian who wouldn’t take his eyes off me and Eris, like he was waiting for the prince to make one wrong move. Never mind the rest of the guests who gawked at my dress or the ginormous ring on my finger.

“Eris is looking at me like he’s about to have me incinerated,” Azriel laughs in my ear.

I can’t help but roll my eyes, on the next spin I see the prince doing just that. “That’s his way of saying he wants me back.” I sigh.

“You want me to dance us away from him?” Az asks sweetly and quietly.

“No, no I’ve already been avoiding him for far too long. He’ll come down here himself in a moment,” I say as the music stops and I bow to Az.

“Good luck then princess,” he bows to me before he saunters off to where Cassain sits gripping a goblet of wine tighter than he ought to.

Like I’m either a blessing sent from above or a curse from below the crowds parts for me as I make my ebay towards Eris. The men gawk and lick their lips, the women gossip and whisper to one another. Once again I felt like a painting displayed at a museum, I was beginning to hate balls.

“Have I told you how delicious you look in gold, my pet?” Eris says as I take my place standing next to his chair.

“At least a dozen times tonight,” I sigh, snatching a glass of wine off a silver platter.

“Come here,” Eris says, patting his lap and I know better than to disobey, not when all of Prythian is watching us.

“What, I don't get to have my own throne?” I grumble, adjusting my dress from where I sit on his lap. The damned thing is one gust of wind away from exposing me to the whole room.

“Wall ornament my dear, wall ornament,” he reminds me, lips trailing down my neck. “And how beautiful you look perched on my lap,” he smirks.

“Yes and I’m one gust of wind away from flashing the whole room,” I grit, adjusting the dress once more.

“Good, let them see what I get to indulge in,” he grins, lifting my goblet to his own lips. The overwhelming urge to spill the liquid all over his pressed jacket is strong but lord knows what would happen next.

“Prince Eris,” mused a female voice drawing both of our attention. “I came to offer my congratulations to you and your future wife.”

The woman standing before me was nothing short of beautiful. Her skin is fair and covered in freckles across her nose and cheeks. Eyes the color of the evergreen trees found in the winter court. Her hair is unbound and the deep auburn. She looked at Eris with a certain coldness and in that moment I realized that they might have been lovers at one point in time. Her eyes flitted to mine and my blood ran cold. She looked at me like I had taken her future away. I suppose I had. If Eris had any feelings for her he certainly didn’t show it.

“Thank you for your well wishes Lady Adarna. We hope to see you at the wedding next week,” he chided leaning back in his chair once more.

The woman simply bowed and waltzed away. I mentally hoped she wouldn’t go near Cassian. Not that I didn’t trust him, but because I didn’t trust her for one moment.

As she scurried off to join a large group of lords and ladies conversing I watched as Eris’ eyes trailed her entire backside. His lips twitched up as if recalling a fond memory. Now was the perfect time to execute my backup plan.

“She seemed angry to see me on your lap,” I muse, taking another sip of my wine.

“So is every male in this room. You should be used to it by now.” he kissed my shoulder.

“You fucked that woman didn’t you?” I turn my head to him letting him see the false anger in my eyes. I had to sell it.

“Many times my pet,” he smiled proudly. “She used to beg me to come to her bed.”

I scoff at his words, it was too hard to believe that any woman would beg to warm Eris’ bed.

“And you're ready for monogamy?” I raise an eyebrow at him, my question more like a test. Eris had been so in lust with me had forgotten about the other women he once bedded. Surely the idea of monogamy wasn’t one he relished, he needed a reminder. The very concept could be the only thing to stop the wedding.

“Who said anything about monogamy?” he laughed while taking a sip of his wine. “I’m sure I’ll be insatiable after I deflower your tight cunt, but once you’re with child I’ll be left to my own devices. Someone will have to satisfy my needs,” he said like it was common knowledge.

By the fucking cauldron this man was insane. But in his words, I saw an opening I never thought of. Maybe I didn’t need to call off the wedding, maybe I just needed to ensure I could sneak out the back door so to say when I needed to.

“And what about me? Will I be allowed other partners?” I muse playing with the hair at the nape of his neck like it might soften him up.

Eris barks out a hearty laugh and I already know I’ve lost this fight as his hand trails up my thigh. The fabric of my dress starts to shift and I find myself shifting around to fix it once more.

“Of course not wife, I won’t have your cunt defiled by any other male,” He pressed a kiss to my neck. “You are purely mine, to taste, to fuck, to impregnate all I want.”

“I’m not your wife yet,” I grumble trying to stand, but his hand on my front flattens and I’m pulled down onto his lap once more.

My stomach pits as I feel what prods into my backside. He’s undeniably hard and my eyes search for Cassian. I have no doubt that Eris would fuck me right here on this dias just to prove a point to everyone in attendance. I search and search, but Cassian is nowhere to be found.

“Oh really? Because you’re on my lap, on my throne and you’re wearing my ring,” He purrs lowly so only I can feel his hand dipping under my dress. “And I’m pretty sure you’ve cum on my fingers. So yes I will call you my wife preemptively because that’s what you are ‘Jewel of Prythian’, mine.”

His hand cups my sex and my breath hitches in my throat. Tears prick my eyes and I put on a cold face.

I will not cry.

I feel a finger slip through my folds and when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for his finger slips inside me. My eyes search the crowd to see if anyone is paying attention, but thankfully they are all drunk and lost in conversation or dancing. That is until my eyes land on Cassian’s. I could throw up from the embarrassment of it all.

Eris quickly retracted his finger, bringing it to his lips and sucking it.

“Good girl. You didn’t fight this time.” he muses, brushing a hand down my cheek.

I take the quickest route out, “I think I see Viviane, she wants to speak to me,” I say quickly, standing from his lap.

“Have fun pet,” Eris smirks, smacking my backside before I saunter down the steps making a beeline for Kallias and Viviane.

My mind is a mess of a million different voices. Eris calling me his broodmare, Cassian begging me to end all this, the voice of my brother sacrificing himself for me, the sound of the children of Velaris playing in the streets. All of it is like a perfect storm. I could erupt at any moment and I don’t think anyone here would care unless my makeup smeared and ruined the image of “The Jewel”

Like a magnet, my eyes flit up from my feet rushing through the crowd to find that hazel gaze that always brought me home.

Cassian was making a beeline towards me. No, not towards me, to my right.

I passed him without so much as a word but as if some strange instinct kicked in, I reached out a hand and felt him do the same. Our fingers grazed each other where no one could see. His touch held a thousand words.

I am here. I am with you. You are not alone. I love you.

My breathing calmed, my heart rate slowed, and the voices in my head quieted down to the point where all I heard was the white noise of those around me.

And I was thankful, so thankful, for that simple touch that brought me home.

Cassian’s pov:

I could kill him.

I could fucking kill him for touching my mate that way. Cleave his head from his body. Castrate him. Rip him limb from limb and my rage still wouldn’t be sated.

The look on her face as his hand dipped between her legs is one I wouldn't soon forget. She was so scared, so helpless and I just let it happen.

I marched towards the other end of the ballroom after grazing her hand in mine. I just needed to feel her once. Just needed to remember that she was mine.

I pushed past the large swaths of curtains lining the room to where I knew there was a door that led to the cool night air outside. I just needed air. I needed to forget.

y/n’s pov:

“Well I hope to see you and your new husband visiting us in the winter court soon,” Viviane said, embracing me fondly.

“And tell that brother of yours that I want to have a drink with him soon,” Kallias smiled putting a hand on my shoulder.

“I’ll be sure to do both,” I smile warmly.

While under the mountain, Kallias was one of the people who looked out for me. His relationship with my brother was strong, and since Rhys couldn’t ever be with me Kallias had stepped in as one of my protectors. I had only met Viviane once since Kallias shielded her from the horrors under the mountain, but her warm soul always spoke to me. I was happy to call the mates my friends.

“I’ll do just that,” I smile, backing away from the High Lord and Lady.

My eyes flit up to that cursed dias, looking for any sign of Eris’ gaze. Instead, I found him lounging about talking to one of the men who sexualized me at the last ball. My skin prickled at the memory. Their voices calling through my head as I made my way towards the edge of the room scouring the dancehall for another drink.

Suddenly a hand gripped my exposed arm and pulled me behind the swaths of large fabric that lined the room. My back hit one of the many pillars as another hand was placed over my mouth to keep me from screaming, which I desperately wanted to do until I saw that beautiful shade of hazel that warmed my very bones.

“Shh, it’s okay it’s just me,” Cassian whispered, releasing his hand that covered up over half of my face.

“Oh Cassian,” I breathed, placing my hands on either cheek. The stubble from this morning mixed with the warmth of him setting my very soul on fire.

“Are you okay?” he breathed pulling me into his chest, like he just needed to have me in his arms if only for a moment.

“Yes, yes I’m fine,” I said frantically as I inhaled his scent.

“He touched you,” Cassian glowered and I pulled my head back to meet his simmering eyes.

My heart shattered right there at the pain within them. He had seen everything. Seen Eris’ hand roam where it shouldn't have, seen him bring that hand to his mouth. Seen him do this in front of everyone and I had instructed the general not to even flinch. It was cruel, I was crueler than even the prince of Autumn himself,

“I’m sorry Cassian, I’m so so sorry,” I pleaded, brushing a hair out of his face that had escaped the bundle at the nape of his neck. “I’m yours Cassian, I’m yours.”

“Y/n I-”

“My heart,” I cut him off, placing his rough hand over the center of my too-exposed chest. “My heart belongs to you Cass.”

In an instant his hands found my waist, pulling me towards him as his frame backed me into the marble pillar. His lips on mine in a fiery need. I met him touch for touch as I pulled the lapels of his jacket towards me, needing to feel every inch of him on me. Even more than that I needed him to erase every single fingerprint Eris had left on me.

Cassian.

My Cassian.

His hands brushed over the vast expanse of my exposed skin leaving a trail of warmth wherever they went. I had spent the night so freezing cold from my lack of coverage that the heat of his body against mine felt so delicious.

His tongue parted my mouth and I felt every inch of him reclaiming me. My hands found that head of hair that I so often found myself gripping as he licked my most sensitive areas. My mind raced to last night where he spent a solid hour coaxing orgasm after orgasm from me.

A woman laughed loudly from the other side of the curtain pulling both Cassian and I’s heads away from one another. We looked to see if the curtain had been pulled back but found nothing.

My core ground down on the bulge in his pants. Oh gods I needed him. I needed him now.

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed, tucking a stray hair behind my ear. “Tell me to leave and wait till we get home.”

“No,” I rasped pulling him down to my lips once more.

I needed him now. Needed to feel all of him, needed to remember that no matter what Eris said or did to me he could never own me. He could own my body, sure. But my heart? My soul? The very essence of me? All of it belonged to Cassian. So much so that it consumed me.

Cassian’s large hands reached beneath my thighs hoisting me up and pressing me further into the cold marble pillar. It didn’t take much for my dress to part for him exposing my core. My hands went to the ties of his pants frantically pulling them down until he sprang free.

“Cassian, I need you,” I pleaded with him.

“Shh I’m coming baby,” he assured me, pumping his cock a few times.

The woman outside the curtain laughed again but this time neither of us looked to see if she had seen us. Let them see. I thought to myself. At this moment I was beyond caring about who was engaged to and who I wasn’t. Who was a prince and who was a bastard. Cassian had all of me, that's all that mattered.

Cassian slid home filling me to the brim so harshly that I gasped. A calloused hand flew over my mouth and my eyes met his. His intense stare watching me take every luxurious inch of him could’ve been enough to make me cum right then and there.

“Shh princess, I don’t like sharing.” he mused, thrusting into me even harder.

His hand fell from my mouth to brace against the pillar behind me as the other arm kept me upright. Every stroke threatened to have me screaming in pleasure. Calling out just how in love with this man I really was. But there were at least a couple hundred people on the other side of that thick curtain and though I hated to admit it, the game we were currently playing thrilled me to my core.

“Fucking mine,” Cassian gritted through his teeth, thrusting harder for emphasis. This wasn’t just about releasing the tension for both of us. Oh no. This was my general reclaiming what was his, and cauldron if he didn’t have a hand holding me up I would’ve been weak at the knees.

“All yours Cass,” I mumbled into his mouth as I pressed my lips into his, my fingers digging into the material of his jacket.

“I love you y/n,” he breathed. “So fucking much.”

“I love you too Cassian,” I smiled, feeling myself clench around him, as the knot in me was beginning to let go.

“Fuck,” he hissed in my ear, burying his head in my shoulder.

It was enough to have me cumming around his cock. My hand flew to my own mouth to stifle the loud moan my body involuntarily let out. My orgasm triggered Cassian's as he let out a smothered low groan burying himself deep inside me

As I tried my best to catch my breath Cassian pulled his head from my shoulder. I looked at his strained face and his messed up hair and began meticulously brushing every strand back into place. His eyes met mine and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“We did not just do that,” I giggled brushing his hair into submission.

“I think we did princess,” he laughed looking down to where he was still seated inside me. “I’m sorry I got a little jealous there.”

“Don’t be sorry, it was kinda hot.” I smile, running a hand down his cheek.

“Yeah?” he smirked, leaning in for another kiss.

“You two are fucking idiots!” Azriel hissed low coming from around the corner.

Our heads turned immediately to find a very worried Azirel shrouded in his shadows. Cassian set me down and shielded my body with his growling at Az as he tucked himself back into his pants.

“A warning would have been nice brother,” Cassian grumbled, making sure I was decent before stepping to the side.

“You’re lucky my shadows found you before anyone else did,” Azriel argued. “Eris is looking for her,” he says nodding towards me.

“Shit,” I curse, adjusting my dress and stepping towards the curtain.

Cassian’s hand finds mine and pulls me back. My eyes snap to him and where there was once lust is now a pleading gaze that has tears threatening to spill from my own eyes.

“Please don’t go to him, I can’t bear it any longer,” he begs me and gods does it shatter me to my core.

“I have to Cass,” I say adjusting his jacket so it’s straight.

“Tell him you're ill and then come back to me,” he pleads. “Then we can go home.”

I know deep down that I shouldn't be leaving this early. It had only been an hour or two since the guests arrived and I hadn’t even spoken to Helion. But Cassian looked so broken. So broken and so hurt. I couldn’t put him through anymore tonight, and I wanted nothing more than for him to take me in his arms and tell me everything would be okay.

“Alright,” I say assuringly, squeezing his large hand. I take one look at Cassian and then at Azriel who looks worried as hell, like if I didn’t leave right this moment we would all be found out.

So I reluctantly pulled my hand from his and parted the curtain that concealed us. Thankful for the shadows Azirel lent me, I was able to assimilate back into the crowd seamlessly. But as I made my way towards the dias where Eris sat impatiently I swore I could feel Cassian’s anger behind me and it threatened to bring down the room around us.

Part 8

Taglist: @crystalferret202 , @nickishadow139 , @graceshifts , @writeroutoftime , @heyyitsnat21, @stinkinstuffie , @lilah-asteria , @12358 , @fxckmiup, @daughterofthemoons-stuff, @mybestfriendmademe, @anxious-study, @bxm-1012 , @mal-adaptive-dreams , @sh4nn , @talesofadragon ,

Permanent Taglist: @fides25, @dissociated-always

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wrtingsoftheunknown · 2 months

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Vincent Sinclair HC

Vincent Sinclair hc SFW and NSFW

I’ve haven’t been seeing my boy get repped recently so I have to do it myself. My first time writing something on here or towards this character ,I promise I will get better y'al,l I made this super quickly not proofread oops.

SFW

-While he can be insecure about his face he definitely has an ego from being the favorite child and having perfected his craft.

Lester drags him out to go for a ride around town or force him to come to his place for some quality brother time (Bo joins every now and then but wants peace and quiet dammit )

‘I know a lot of people have him learn sign language but I think he either writes what he wants to say, speaks as best as he can, or gestures, ( he was born in the south to parents that I don't think cared about communicating with him too much but he could have picked it up later in life maybe in his teen years or middle school era)

More sadistic than Bo when it comes to killing, he doesn't care if they are dead or alive when working on them and takes satisfaction in the result of his work

He prefers to work in silence but you can catch him humming now and then some country song or a guilty pleasure pop song from the 80’s( I see you Vince)

I think he partakes in multiple forms of art besides wax work.We see he’s able to paint, draw, but he also takes pictures, , sews, writes, makes videos, anything artistic he’s learning and keeping up with new techniques.

Since he takes video of the killings at times I think they sell them as snuff films to make extra cash on top of stealing and selling victims stuff. (At least that’s what I thought when I first watched the film anyone else or just me)

Rarely happens but will keep victims that interest him like Bo ,but dispose of them when they get boring or no longer match up the ideal version of them in his head.

-Does want a lifelong partner, the white wedding and picket fence, kids, but knows it might be difficult with the line of work he does.

- He can talk but only does when it’s important or to emphasize something. He does have a southern draw like Bo and I imagine his voice to sound similar but raspier, maybe deeper/ quieter from not using it as much.

-like I said earlier you have to really catch his attention and be able to hold it for more than a week, if that happens then he’s obsessed and protective maybe a little too over protective.

Does indeed have a hair care routine I believe this full throttle and no one can can tell me otherwise I'm not listening.

NSFW

I don't know if he’s a virgin, I don't think he is something is telling me he isn't, but i’m not sure

He has no problem with nudity, bodies are seen as art, there's not as much of a sexual connotation with them as with Bo and Lester .

He wants to be in love with the person he is intimate with, he wants to be worship and worship his muse.

Drawings of his partner naked as well as in the midst of a passionate night, he might tease them all night to make sure the sketch is as life like and accurate as possible

Good size and thick that's all I gotta say

Praise kink hard core, hearing his partner call him a good boy or how he makes them feel so good he will crumble

He starts slow and sensual, enjoys the control he has and having someone at his power.

I think he will edge you and leave you high and dry when you act out but he always caves by the end of the day and gives you what you need.

Can last a long time surprisingly

Mainly a giver but someone please for the love of god give this man the nastiest had he’s ever received will make the prettiest noises

Is down to try anything new and more open about sex than you would think.

When he’s horny he comes up behind his partner and starts caressing every inch he can reach, while resting his chin on their shoulder acting as innocent as he can.

#vincent sinclair #house of wax #vincent sinclair x reader #headcanon #horror #masked men #country man #bo sinclair #lester sinclair #x reader

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sandinthemachine · 1 year

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Mortal Remains

König x f!reader

written for the request: "You know, if you wanted my attention, you didn't have to go to such extremes." With Either ghost or König? There's not enough fluff for my men.

I don't even know where to begin with this one. It's massive, the longest one I've ever written. I love it, and I hate it. It made me cry. I'm excited and terrified to see what everyone else thinks. I hope someone reading this feels at least one of those emotions while doing so (preferably not hate)

before I begin, thank you to @sprout-fics and @zwienzixes for being lovely beta readers, and a MASSIVE thank you to @itsagrimm for beta-reading, helping me work through ideas, giving me proper German translations, and all around being an amazing and supportive person. I would have given up on this without all the help.

Translations for the German will be at the bottom

Words: 12,450 (yeah...it's big just like him)

Warnings/tags: König is soft and pretends not to be, reader is afab but no pronouns used, canon-typical violence, piv sex, oral f!receiving, self-deprecation, lots of raw emotions, mental health is hard, fluffy ending

---

It started easy enough, as so many things do.

A week-long joint training exercise. Mixed teams, both 141 and KorTac. Something something bonding before the real mission. You hadn’t been listening.

You remember being excited to be teamed with Soap. At least you could get along with someone, you mused. You barely noticed the hooded figure, tall and sticking to the corners, merging with the lengthening shadows. What’s another ghost haunting your footsteps? Nothing special, that’s for sure.

The first four days fly by. Early morning patrols, always in pairs, tracking for signs of the other team. Finding nothing, you move to a different shelter, secure the area, sleep. Rinse, repeat.

The fifth day is different. There are ragged clouds cloaking the sun while the rest of the sky is completely clear. You’re not sure why you noticed that, but you did.

It was an early morning patrol, as usual, you and your partner sweeping around a centerpoint like you were analyzing a single massive clock. Northeast quadrant clear. Southeast clear. Southwest…a scuff in the dirt. You lean down, fingers tracing the air just above it, a black fleck catching your eye. You grasp it, finding it much larger than you originally expected and partially buried. You pull at the rubbery texture, curious. Distracted.

The ambush comes quietly. Perfectly so. The weight lands on your back with an abruptness that flattens your lungs, dropping you directly onto your hands. You might have twisted your wrist, but the pain of that is overshadowed by the thought of the immense beratement you’ll get from your NCO for failing so fast.

Yet the weight from your back is lifted as quietly as it arrived. You turn, rolling to your feet to find that it had been Gaz on top of you only a second ago. Now he dangles like a ragdoll in the air. The shadow holding him draws a knife, taps it against his throat. You're out.

Gaz sighs as he’s set on the ground, giving you a nod before marching off. You don’t return it, too busy staring at the man next to him.

You’d never noticed his eyes before. You’re used to Ghost’s eyes, dark and unyielding, cavernous black holes reaching into a skull long dead. Like he was born to wear the mask.

This man’s eyes couldn’t be more different. They’re pale, washed out, windows into a sky perpetually on the verge of snowfall, slumbering clouds cold and waiting.

They curve down at the corners, lending an air of melancholy to the only part of his face you can see. You wonder how he really feels behind that gaze.

You’re staring.

You clear your throat awkwardly, aiming to thank him before pausing. “I…I’m sorry, I never caught your callsign?”

The head dips down, draped fabric falling down his chest slightly. A nod. “We need to keep moving.”

And he’s walking past you.

Two days later, the training exercise finally comes to a head in a fierce brawl over the fake weapons cache. Knives and fists only.

The fight takes only a few minutes. Ghost on the opposite team notices your attempted ambush immediately, throwing his men after you. Your team is outnumbered, stuck in a hallway. But it doesn’t matter.

Ghost and the hooded man roll on the ground, tousling like a pair of tomcats, Ghost landing on top for just a second, raising his knife-

You’re there. Arm wrapped around his shoulders. Blade tapping against his throat. You’re out.

With that, the fight is over. Ghost moves with a grumble at the man under him. It might have been a threat. But the man doesn’t hear it. He’s too busy staring at you with grey-sky eyes wide. A child dressed as a dirty sheet-ghost. “I…I don’t know your-”

You thrust your hand out, yanking him to his feet. “We’d better head back.”

You feel him at your back throughout the debriefing. Rolling thunder clouds looming over your head, ready to burst at any second. Your tongue is between your teeth, lungs heaving. Soap whispers a joke in your ear, something about Ghost getting chewed out by the NCO. You can barely muster a smile.

You stay still as the meeting finally ends, waiting for everyone to filter out before you finally turn around.

As you turn, your shoulder knocks into hard muscle and you look up, craning your neck to take in the hooded face and the way his pupils are blown wide into dark pits. A gale you should take shelter from lest you be blown away. But for a moment all you do is stand there, watching your own pupils expand in the turbulent reflection.

Your teeth are carving marks into your tongue by now, and it takes you far too long to draw in a shaky breath and push past him. You have more training tomorrow. It’s sleep your body needs. Not…whatever this is.

He doesn’t say a word as you depart, but his eyes track your every move before the door shuts behind you.

Of course this is a night where you can’t sleep. Of course. You flip and roll, hearing your bed frame smack against the wall every time you shift until you get so annoyed you shove it further into your room and flop down on it again. It doesn’t do anything, of course. Just makes your insomnia a little quieter.

It’s nearly midnight by the time you throw your legs over the side in frustration, shivering at the frigid air before throwing on enough clothes to look decent and marching down towards the shared kitchen.

He’s there. Your luck is just perfect tonight. You take a step backwards, planning to flee back to the darkness of the hallway, but he’s already turning his head, shoulders jumping just slightly as you enter his view.

You crumple a little as he notices you, but it’s too late to do anything about it now. “Can’t sleep either, huh?” Your voice is rough as you walk over to the counter next to him, yanking an expired box of cereal from the back of it. Your arm brushes his as you pull it out.

You spare him a glance as you pry the old box open, snorting at his narrowed eyelids. You bet he’s scrunching his nose through that silly hood, too. You reach in, hearing a series of crunches as you rifle around. “Ah, there it is.” You pull out the clear bottle, shaking it triumphantly in his face. “This’ll knock you right out. 50/50 chance you get back up tomorrow.” You trail off, eyes traveling up and down him. “Well, maybe a bit better odds for you.” You chuckle half-heartedly, but it dies a second later.

You puff your lips out in a shaky breath, running your tongue along your teeth before giving him an awkward smile and raising the bottle to him. With that you leave.

As soon as you take a sip you spit it right back out with a blech. You’d forgotten how nasty the stuff is. You toss it into the trash can and flop back down with an irritated groan. How hard is it to fall asleep? It’s literally laying there doing no-

Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock at the door, and upon swinging it open you find him, his looming shadow nearly blotting out the light from the hallway behind. It’s easy to forget how big he is when he’s not around. How strong he is. How…deadly.

But right now he’s leaning against your doorframe, hands tapping along his legs. “Have enough for two?”

You smirk a little at that, but as you step closer you feel the heat radiating from him, your shoulder blades clenching together as your mind begins to process something.

You’d sleep better for it. Perform better the next day. It would be good for you.

Your smirk deepens. “I have a better idea.”

As your hand tangles in his shirt you feel a tremble along his skin, but he doesn’t respond when you pull on him. “You’ve been drinking.”

“I haven’t had a drop. Shit’s disgusting.”

“Show me the bottle.”

Despite yourself, a smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you fish the full monstrosity out of the bin to show him. He nods but still doesn’t move, and you find yourself rushing to assure him as heat rushes up your neck. “If you actually just want to drink, we can. We don’t have to do anything-”

“No. That’s not it.” Finally he steps fully into the room, letting the door swing shut behind him before he stalks to you. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you hiss, moving to hold onto him again, your mind swirling with exhaustion and old memories that you just need out, right now, and he’s right there and he needs it too, you just know it as he swoops down to grab you and toss you on the bed, both of you a mess to rip your clothes off now that the facade has finally fallen.

After the fog clears you find yourself panting on your stomach with him above you, caging you in with his forearms. Each of his stuttering inhales brings his burning chest and stomach against your back. Before the heat can become unbearable he pulls away, breaths still heaving as he tucks himself back into his pants.

Your eyes widen in surprise when he makes his way to your bathroom and comes back, washcloth in hand, to softly clean you up. As he finishes he pauses, thumb brushing the edge of an old knife scar running up your hip. “My callsign,” he murmurs, fingers tracing its length. “It’s König.”

And with that, he leaves.

You were content for that to be the end of it. You’d each gotten what you needed, after all. And as you stretch languidly across your mattress the following morning, an unfamiliar relaxation settles along your tense muscles. Yes, you would be more than happy to leave it at this.

But as the next training drill ends you find yourself faced with your cold barrack and the prospect of another sleepless night. Before you even realize what you’re doing your legs are moving, ready to go to the kitchen and-

He’s right there, startling as you nearly open your door into his face. He takes a step back, but you’re already holding your hand out and his eyes are burning into you as he takes it and lets you pull him in, lets you shut the door behind you before he’s lifting you with laughable ease and carrying you to bed.

You’re already burrowing your face into your pillow by the time he comes back to clean you up. This time his palm runs over a puckered mass on your thigh, a nasty burn scar from failing to dive for cover fast enough. It still hurts sometimes, but the pain is good. Reminds you not to be so careless again.

As you drift off completely to the feel of his warm hand taking in the old wound, you fail to notice the way his head has turned up, eyes running over your face. He contemplates brushing a finger over your hairline, tucking the wild flyaways behind your ear. But no. That would be too…friendly. That’s not what this is.

So instead he spreads your blankets over your now sleeping form, and with one last lingering gaze, leaves you to sleep peacefully.

You’re not surprised when you wake up to the empty room. It was what you wanted, after all. You had gotten another restful night out of it, and he got what he wanted. It was a fair trade. A great trade, even.

And as the training drills continue and you feel how naturally your body flows, how efficiently it executes your will when you’re actually well-rested, you find yourself seeking his company out more and more. Soon the pair of you have built your own kind of routine, him coming to you the evening after each debriefing when the leftover sparks of adrenaline are refusing to die out in you both.

He always lays you down on your stomach, opening you up with his fingers as he patiently works you through your first orgasm before letting himself take you. He’s always slow at first, but he finds you restless and impatient, urging him to go faster and harder, to knock you out for the night, to knock everything out of your mind that you never want to think about again.

You try to look back once only for your face to meet his hand. With gentle but firm fingers, he turns your head away.

Afterwards he’s even more delicate, wordlessly cleaning you up with a touch light enough to leave a butterfly unharmed. Although he rarely meets your eyes, his gaze and fingers take in your body, each time finding a new scar for his fingers to brush over like a chaste kiss.

You’re asleep by the time he leaves, and you like it that way. The two of you can crash against each other like blizzards raging and howling until you finally break into clear skies. And afterwards, you’re soldiers again. Well-rested, sure. But soldiers all the same. No hard feelings, either. You know he understands.

Soon you two find yourselves assigned to the same training team more and more. It’s natural, an unspoken communication flowing between you, and your superiors see it in the skyrocketing success rates. They pointedly ignore the way your stares burn holes into each other, keeping their eyes fixed on powerpoints and mission statistics. Not their business, they tell themselves. What matters is that you two do your jobs.

And then finally it’s time for the mission, a deployment in the middle of a remote and mountainous forest with terrible radio signal.

Like your first training, it starts easy enough. You’re divided into two teams on two separate mountains, and it’s just your luck that they put you on the team with no one you’re close to. Not even König. Maybe the higher-ups were finally sick of you two.

But you’re an adult. You handle it. You swallow the unease that comes with the teams not being able to contact each other. It’s simply too risky, and the signals are shoddy at best anyway. Base will come in for extraction if the other team succeeds.

With practiced ease you push yourself through two weeks of empty trails and summer-camp camaraderie as the talkative ones share jokes around the empty fireplace and the quiet ones listen from the shadows and chuckle their approval.

Week 3, everything goes to shit.

You should’ve known. You really should’ve known. The weather out here can change in an instant, clouds materializing from a clear sky’s empty expanse like an angry god throwing his rage down from above. You should’ve known the people here would be the same.

Before any of you knew the safehouse was surrounded, they were already through the doors.

You remember waking up to the creak of the old door with a groan, not ready to start your watch yet. The man on watch had been short and wiry, and you marveled at how shadows warp themselves against the light, twisting and turning to make one man look like another, tall and burly and carrying a-

CRASH!

The windows burst inwards in a crescendo of sparks and you’re scrambling backwards, reaching for your

BANG!

Dust from the roof is falling on your head, in your eyes and you’re blinking at the haze, the sting, your hands feeling the solid weight of your weapon and yanking it against you, and you’re stumbling backwards towards the

BANG!

and you’re stumbling forwards towards the

BANG!

And you’re on your knees crawling crawling

BANG! BANG BANG BANG!

crawling away from everything and your eardrums are hot iron seething in your skull and your eyes are being scratched by cats and there’s something warm on your face now and there’s something heavy thunking to the floor just next to you and everything is all dark, all the shadows are choking you and-

-grey. Not black. Not the black of the inside. Grey. A doorway. A hole in the wall. You’re on your knees, your hands are on the wall, you’re pushing yourself up, you’re running, and there are patters behind you and gurgling sounds and the volleys of automatic weaponry but your vision is finally starting to clear, you can see the treeline and all you need is to get there.

A roar surges behind you, and you spin into the sun. Heat slams into your body and you’re flung, a leaf in the wind, hard onto your back as yellows and reds surge in front of you or maybe it was behind you and now you’re a deer, eyeballs bulging out of your head and rolling in your skull as you run from a forest fire, angry and starving, only this fire has legs and they’re longer than yours and it’s following you, you just know it, you can’t hear it but you know.

You’re not a human anymore, you’re barely even an animal, you’re not thinking, you’re a scramble of limbs and an impulse. Run.

You try. You try so hard but there’s nothing carrying you, your legs don’t feel connected to each other anymore and they’re not even your legs you look down and they’re still there but you can’t…feel them?

Tilting. Tilting. Tilting.

Light. Burning light.

Fade to black.

No, wait. Not you. You’re still here. Your legs are wavy and jelly but still there.

You fling an arm out and feel something solid. Cold. Rough. Bark.

You made it to the trees.

There’s no time to celebrate. Behind you lights are still flaring, and with each passing second more bodies are falling to the ground, leaking out into the snow. You have to move.

The second safehouse is to the north. It’s your only way out, you know that. The rest of your team would be there.

Should be there.

Better be there.

Don’t think about it, don’t think. Just move.

The battle is fading behind you now and your blood is beginning to cool, settling heavy in your veins like the thick jam your mother used to make on warm summer mornings just as the sun’s rays flowed through your windows.

It would be nice to be there right now. Warm. Content. Full. Your stomach growls in agreement at the thought. You have some ration bars in your pocket, but you know it hasn’t been long enough to have one. You need to spread them out, make sure they can last.

Your stomach groans again, and you shake your head. To divert your attention, you take stock of the rest of your body.

You’re scraped and bruised, your head vibrating like…oh, what is it like? Like…your phone after you get added to a group chat you wanted nothing to do with. Hehe. You can barely remember the days when your problems were as simple as that.

You're letting yourself get too distracted. Anyways, as you were saying. You’re a bit battered and scraped up, alright. But no broken bones. No visible deadly wounds. And you still have your gun clamped to your chest with shaky arms. That’s all you need, really. Making it to the safehouse will be a breeze.

You’re halfway down the mountain as twilight begins to lighten to dawn, and there’s still no sign of anyone chasing you. It’s a bit warmer down here, and as you flex your fingers and toes you feel the sharp pins and needles radiate through them and force a smile. It’s good, you tell yourself. Means they’re all still there. You might just be in the clear now.

Then the sky darkens again, and it begins to rain.

Within a few minutes you can’t see your hand in front of your face in the downpour and you're forced to hide out. You find a fallen evergreen and burrow through its thick boughs, needles pricking your face and poking in your mouth with a sharp scent that settles behind your eyeballs as you force your way through, certain it will block out the worst of the rain. It doesn’t.

It’s past noon by the time the deluge finally lets up, and as you step out, cursing your shelter for all its faults, the slick earth shifts abruptly under you. With a cry, you are yanked off of your feet into a roll down the slope. You fling out your arms, grasping for anything solid, but the world is a mass of dirt and grey-brown snow-slush and you can’t stop yourself until your hip jams into a tree-stump. Hard.

You hiss, twisting your face upwards off the ground. Bad idea. The mud-slush runs down into your nose and you splutter, spasming and hacking up half the mountain. You move to wipe your eyes on your arm but only rub more dirt in them, gritting your teeth and hissing through them at the sting.

You push yourself onto your hands and knees with a whimper, gingerly feeling around your hip. Not broken. Just another bruise. What’s one more bruise? It’ll be fine.

You’ll be fine.

Your ankle is twisted. You’ve wrapped it as best as you can, but every time you put weight on it, you imagine a great big serpent with needles for scales is slithering under your skin, wrapping itself tight around the bones and squeezing.

Even worse, it's getting dark again. Fucking FUCK.

You should get yourself a thesaurus for Christmas. Fuck really doesn’t have much weight to it when you say it every other sentence.

Whatever. You’re fucking screwed.

Your clothes are soaked, you’re painted in dirt and runny snow and as soon as it gets dark temperatures are going to drop fast enough to freeze you right in place like a stupid fucking statue. Fuck this, fuck this so hard what do I do what do I do.

You bury your face into your hands, heels pressing hard into your eyes. It doesn’t matter that your hands have mud mittens anymore because your face is solid mud and you’ve had dark spots in your eyesight for hours and maybe if you rub them really hard this will all be a shitty dream your shitty brain made up and then you can wake up in your shitty cot with your blanket that’s too thin and it will be so fucking lumpy and uncomfortable and perfect. It would be perfect. Maybe König would be there.

What?

You’re breaking down and going to die in a few hours and you’re thinking of him? Some dude you fuck? What the hell is wrong with you?

He was really warm, though. And he was always so gentle afterwards. For hands that kill with such brutal precision, his fingers felt too delicate to be his when they ran along your body, mapping every scar and dimple like he was trying to memorize you. Like he was terrified that tomorrow he might wake up blind and never be able to see you again, so he needed to be able to recognize you by touch alone.

You didn’t even know what his face looked like, but you could get lost in those eyes, you think. You've learned that the skin above them stretches when he’s surprised, and the skin under them scrunches up when he laughs, so you think it must scrunch like that when he smiles, too. You’ve even seen the way his lids drift down to hide the way his eyes roll back when he’s bored.

What do they look like when he’s excited? When he’s angry? Sad?

You wonder what it would be like to look him in the eyes while you both fell apart. Would he look away and screw them shut? Would they water a little, as yours so often did?

Would he stay the night if you asked? Would he hold you? Would he…

No. This isn’t happening. No way in hell. You are not dying thinking of a random man you’ve barely spoken two words to. It’s ridiculous. It’s pathetic. You’re better than this.

You will not go out like this.

You yank yourself to a tree whose limbs burst forth in sprays of dark needles, your shoulders screaming at you as you pull yourself up on the branches, feeling like a toddler learning to walk for the first time. It’s pitiful. You swing your good leg up, grinding your teeth so hard your jaw pops as you pull yourself up to a thick fork and begin pulling down limbs above you, cutting through the ones around you, tying and weaving and undoing and redoing.

It is dark by the time you’ve finished, a thick nest of evergreen boughs settled under you and woven walls crushing you in. You have to curl into a tight ball to fit into it, but you can no longer feel the breezes from outside. You’ve stripped your clothes off and spread them along the walls as best you can, hoping they can dry just a little.

You thank the mud for clogging your nose. You don’t even want to imagine what you and your clothes must smell like by now.

Maybe by the time you meet up with the others you’ll smell so bad you’ll make one of the rookies vomit. Ghost did that last mission, and you and Soap nearly burst a lung as the poor guy emptied his guts over and over again.

You chuckle at that and try your best to fall asleep.

By the time you make it down the mountain the next day, your knees are knocking against each other with every step and your weapon is plastered with muddy slush that has frozen and melted and frozen all over again. The valley is even worse than the slope, with runoff from the rain congregating in a swampy mess that has you sinking up to your calves in some places. Lifting a leg in this feels like pulling yourself out of concrete, so you get really good at sliding each foot forward without raising it upwards at all.

You think the pressure from the mud is helping with the pain. You barely feel it when you move now.

Your jaw is clenched so hard you chip one of your molars.

You’re halfway through the valley when one of them finds you.

It’s funny how it happens. How you both stand in the mud staring at each other. How you both instinctively know who the other is through the curtain of earth camouflaging you both, yet each stand stock-still as statues anyway.

A second passes.

Two.

Three.

In an instant your guns are to your shoulders, fingers rushing to crush the-

Nothing happens. You squeeze. Squeeze again. The man shakes his gun and yells in frustration, the mud and ice having rendered your weapons unfireable.

But not unusable. The man’s head whips back to you with a growl and he lunges forward, his foot sinking into a deep patch and jerking him down face first. He throws himself up again, splatting forward another pace.

You slide backward, forcing yourself to slow down, to keep your feet under you as you move gut-wrenchingly slowly, searching for solid ground. He’s flailing and flinging himself towards you but the mud is slowing him down, and there’s a rocky patch right behind you. You’re going to make it.

He reaches you before you reach the edge, raising his gun and throwing his body behind a downwards blow. Yours is already coming up to deflect, but the blow sends you backwards, landing on your back with a splash. He’s on top of you, a hand shoving your face down as mud flows around it.

You thrash and wiggle, a scream cut off as your mouth fills with liquid dirt. Your hand is whirling all around and it catches something and you yank.

He howls as you pull his ear, sending him off-balance just enough to raise your head for a choking gasp before your palm is on his face, shoving him sideways. He rolls away from you, struggling to his feet as you’re on your hands and knees and your gun is in the mud but so is his. He tries to reach for it but he’s stuck, and in that precious heartbeat of time your legs are back under you, feet planted deep and wide.

He whirls towards you as you stand, throwing a punch at your torso that you know you can’t dodge, you can’t even move, so you throw your fist sideways, twisting, forcing all your strength into shoving from your rear leg so that when you catch his knuckles on your forearm they are savagely wrenched sideways with your momentum. His pinkie pops outwards with a crunch, and he falls back with a choked sob.

You grab your gun off the ground, throwing your whole body into a swing at his head, shattering through his palm as he tries to block it. You both fall sideways with the momentum but you find your feet faster, gripping the weapon through the slime coating it as you bring the stock straight down into his skull.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

Your grip slides, dirt scraping more of your skin off with each blow, but he’s not moving. You stumble backwards drunkenly, falling onto your forearms again and army-crawling, gun held tightly in each hand, all the way to the edge. You flop on your back then, one eye on the body, and heave great breaths, coughing again and again until your body has enough and you curl inwards, choking out mud and throwing up even more. You try to even your breathing, try to filter the adrenaline out of your system so you don’t crash. In, out. In, out. In out in out inoutinoutinoutinoutin-FUCCCCCKK. You shake your head violently, over and over.

You take one last look at the body, only seeing it because you know where to look. A mud-covered shoulder pokes out of the ground, the rest already lost.

You can’t balance on your feet anymore, so you crawl away.

You don’t even bother to make a shelter that night. You crawl under a rotting log, ripping your last ration bar from your pocket and devouring it, licking the crumbs from your stained and tainted fingers. You curl up and fall asleep just like that, bones chattering and muscles spasming.

Helicopter blades wake you up in the morning. You’re on your feet, falling and jumping and running and falling, flailing your arms because you know those blades, that’s your team and they’re here for you and you’re finally free, you did it you did it you’re so proud of yourself you can’t wait to have a warm bath and then maybe even afterwards you can see-

The helicopter passes over you and disappears around the mountain.

You stare at it, deathly still. It’s just sweeping the area, making sure it’s safe to land.

But the wingbeats have already faded into the distance, replaced by a vast and engulfing silence. Time stretches out before you, and you’re still staring at the mountain.

Your stomach breaks the silence with a gurgle.

You flop down, shoving your face into the ground, and scream.

You press the button on your radio, cracking the caked mud. It clicks, and you hear nothing. Not even static. You click it again. And again, this time just to hear the sound. Rapidly you click it again and again and again.

You start laughing, your abs clenching and strangling your organs as you guffaw, thrashing around like a headless chicken, and thinking about yourself as a headless chicken makes you laugh even louder. Everything is just so funny, none of this is real, you’re on the Truman Show, you’re the biggest comedy in the world. It’s even funny that your laughter only comes out in squeaky wheezes. It’s all just a big joke. Haha. You can’t wait to tell someone.

You fall asleep just like that, grinning up at the sky with dirt in your teeth.

You wake up, stare into the sun, and go back to sleep.

You feel lighter.

Is this what it feels like to leave your body?

It’s not as bad as you thought.

You wonder if König will remember you.

The ground beneath you is moving, sliding under you and scraping along you.

There's no ground underneath you at all now, and something is pressing, and you feel your legs dangling and swinging all around you, the world spinning a jig and you the unwilling passenger. You think you might tell it to stop, but it doesn't listen to you.

You're yanked back into consciousness by a thundering vibration setting every bone against itself. You jolt upwards, feeling heavy pressure on your shoulders as your eyes roll back into your head. The world is black. Black and blue and blurred. Through the haze you begin to make out a white visage and two black voids that pierce through you.

This must be hell. You don’t want to be awake for your judgement.

Your consciousness drifts away again, blocking out the rumbling flight of the helicopter, completely oblivious to the warm bodies pressed in around you, speaking rapidly through their headsets.

Any more? Sweep around again.

There's nothing else here.

Ok. Let's bring these ones back, then.

You are still asleep as your body is carried into a hospital room, completely unresponsive as the nurses strip and bathe you with clinical precision. You don’t wake until hours later, seeing only a single nurse checking your vitals and bandages. Each hand and foot has been carefully wrapped, the angry red battlefield of blisters and exposed flesh meticulously covered in pristine, unblemished white. The nurse offers a smile as you fight through the haze, imagining you are underwater and slowly floating to the surface, watching the sun jiggle and warp through the abyss above you. Just bad blisters, the nurse is telling you. Very lucky. Very lucky. You think you might nod back. She’s right, of course. You’re alive, aren’t you?

Ghost comes by as you’re released the next day. They’ve rewrapped your hands in a bandage that gives you a little more flexibility, and he finds you sitting on the edge of the bed, staring into the white fabric.

The mattress shifts as he settles beside you. He doesn’t say a word, but his eyes are trained on you. Black voids in a mask of white.

“You left me,” you finally whisper, eyes still on your hands.

“What?”

You look at him, trying to see something in the face to get mad at, but his eyes are just a little wider than before. Confused, maybe.

“The helicopter…” you begin, voice scratchy, and clear your throat. “The helicopter flew right over me.”

“That wasn’t our helicopter.”

“It was heading back from the safehouse.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Oh,” you huff, sinking into yourself. “I…”

You stop as he clears his throat, shoulders expanding in a loud breath. “It’s alright. You were knocked out pretty good by the time our boys found you. Happens to the best of us.”

You nod, swallowing again, and wish someone else was here to comfort you, literally anyone but Ghost. “Is…uh…is…umm…is Soap ok?”

Ghost grunts. “Johnny took one to the arm, but he’ll pull through. I was just going to visit him now.”

You push yourself to your feet, proud that you only sway a bit. “Can I-”

“No,” Ghost cuts you off. “You’ll have time to visit him later. For now you need to go and rest. That’s an order,” he cuts you off as you open your mouth to protest. Your jaw shuts. Call it obedience, call it cowardice, but you find you just don’t have it in you to argue the point. You promise yourself you’ll see Soap in the morning. Well, later in the morning, seeing as it’s somehow 0100 hours already.

When Ghost leaves you slump, any need for straight posture gone with the departure of your superior officer. Trying to keep your breathing even, you will your legs to carry your body down the medical corridor. Just a little longer, you promise them, then you’ll get the break you deserve. But your body has had enough of your unfulfilled promises, and you find yourself forced to sink onto one of the shitty metal chairs littering the hallway. Just a little rest, and then I’ll go back to my quarters.

You wake to the familiar sounds of agony. Before your body has the chance to disagree, instinct has you on your feet again, hands grabbing at the thin air where your sidearm should be. My holster, my holster, where the hell is-

Your eyes land on the white-washed walls. Too clean. Too smooth. And your hands aren’t moving like they should, strangled by white fabric. It finally sinks in that you’re far from the battlefield, far from any fight.

The sounds continue, drawing your eye to one of the many nondescript doors lining the corridor. Someone having a nightmare, probably. Or reacting badly to a procedure, maybe. Either way, a problem best left for the nurses with their iron wills and their tranquilizers. You have enough bruises already. Best not add a black eye to the list.

A pitiful whimper sounds through the door, one that has your heart twisting like a towel being wrung out, sending all the blood to your throat and stomach.

Fuck it. What’s one more bruise?

Your fingers curl the handle down, and you shrink in on yourself as the door swings open on its own with a creak. You catch it and hastily shut it behind you, trying not to make any more noise.

The room is small enough that even the military-issue cot feels too big for it. The room is made even smaller by the man lying in the cot, arms dangling off the sides as he thrashes, his feet hanging off the end. You can see the crumpled blanket on the floor and automatically avert your eyes. The hood is still on, but below it he’s wearing an undershirt and boxers, and you realize this is the most of him you’ve ever seen.

You press yourself to the wall as he spasms again, a leg kicking out and narrowly missing you, causing you to notice the thick white bandage wrapped around his thigh, and the dark line slowly being painted along it.

Hesitantly you flick the lights on, wincing at the burn that rushes through your eyeballs, but he doesn’t even react to it. You have no idea how to wake him up without breaking a bone, so you press your back to the wall, slowly skirting along the edge of the room and staying as far out of his reach as you can, praying to whatever old ghosts are listening that he doesn’t wake up and go straight into murder mode. Or, you know, default alert soldier setting. This is a stupid idea.

As you approach his head you lean over as far as you can, stretching one arm out until the socket pops in protest. You poke his shoulder and leap back.

Nothing.

You take a step closer and lean in again.

You’re immediately interrupted by the door swinging open with a much-louder creak. You and the nurse both pause and stare at each other for a moment, startled, and you sheepishly move to straighten and pull your arm back.

With viper-like speed an arm shoots out to grab your wrist, capturing it in a deadly grip and you yelp, whirling back to the man in the bed and raising your opposite arm.

You freeze when you see his eyes, so wide they’re more white than color. He’s stock-still, fixated on you like a mouse caught in a cat’s gaze. Paralyzed by fear, praying. Shaking.

His hand is…shaking. “Hey, hey,” you coax, hesitantly pulling your arm back in so you can place it over his fingers. “It’s just me, big guy. You’re safe.”

His chest heaves outwards, and you feel his hand relax a little before his head snaps towards the nurse as she takes a step closer, cradling something small and cylindrical in her hands. “It’s alright,” she speaks directly to you. “I can take it from here.”

König releases the breath he’s held, shoving himself backwards on the bed with a shake of his head, prompting the nurse to click her tongue at him before raising the needle. You realize it’s a lot bigger than you first thought. “You’ll be fine,” she’s assuring him. “It will hurt a lot less once it’s done.”

König’s head turns very slowly, back up to you, and for a second you’re confused at his gaze, wondering why he thinks you have enough knowledge to give him any medical advice. Then you notice the way his eyes seem just a little too shiny in the light, the way his other hand is clenching and unclenching around the bedsheet.

You’ve always known him as the perfect soldier, quick and to the point, pin-prick precise, a dancing whirlwind of death. More monster than man. You know him as the one who laughs with every good kill, mocking the reaper of death with a smile. Look at how slow you are. I got here first. He’s the one who dances on the precipice of fate and spits over the edge.

Even sprawled out like this, sweaty and trembling, you are well aware of every flex of his muscles, of the strength he holds back in his grip. Yet as you look into the eyes of the storm you find that for the first time you see no hint of the giddy killing machine looking back at you. The eyes staring back at you from this big soldier’s body are those of a fragile little kid. And he’s terrified.

You gulp, your tongue catching on the back of your throat. “Yeah…yeah, it’ll be ok. I’ll be right here.”

Finally he relaxes, slumping back into the bed, and the nurse takes the opportunity to give him the shot. You feel his flinch in a wave of pressure radiating up your wrist and forearm, but his gaze doesn’t move. He keeps looking into your eyes until his own begin to droop and he sinks even further into the mattress.

Before his hand drops from your wrist you catch it, the skin under your bandages protesting at the sudden flexion. You choose to ignore it, settling down on the floor next to his bed as your own eyes begin to follow his. Even as your head falls into your knees and your body finally gives itself completely over to darkness, you refuse to let go.

You’re woken by something warm trailing along your hairline. You jerk, smacking the back of your head into the wall with an irritated grunt. König’s arm hovers in the air just in front of your face, and you turn to see him pressed to the edge of the bed, looking a little guilty. “Sorry,” he murmurs.

You should be, startling me like that, you want to say. But when you open your mouth, what comes out instead is “No, it’s ok, I just…I wasn’t expecting it.”

König gulps audibly, and the cot creaks as he pulls his hand back, shifting his body even closer. “You stayed.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“Never,” he hisses, and you find yourself staring into his eyes again, only this time they’ve taken on their old torrential intensity.

Now it’s yours that are as wide as a child’s. You gulp, feeling the muscles of your jaw flex and unflex. “Ok,” you finally murmur. “I’ll stay.”

And you do. For two more nights König stays in the infirmary, weathering the steady rounds of nurses and bandage changes with a steely resolve even as his fists flex and twist into the sheets. You stay with him all the while, but he doesn’t reach for your hand again, not after noticing your own bandages.

The second night you sleep in the cot next to him at his insistence. You’re hurt too, he reasons. You need a real bed to rest in. He scoots himself to the back edge to give you room, and when you wake up he hasn’t moved.

After the third night you wake to his hand resting on your arm. It’s a small gesture. Innocent even. Yet still you find yourself contemplating it, barely saying a word as the nurses come to remove his bandages. You grind your jaw as you take in the puckered line of stitches running from his knee up to the edge of his boxers, looking away politely as the nurses help him into a pair of sweatpants.

You don’t even say anything when you let him lean on your shoulders, using your own aching body as a sacrificial lamb to transport him back to his barrack. Once you get him into bed you hover in the doorway, taking in the shadows of the walls, twisting your wrists back and forth, a habit you picked up to alleviate the pain from flexing your fingers. They’re in even thinner bandages now, but you’d rather be safe than sorry.

Maybe there’s nothing to say. You found him in a vulnerable situation where he needed a lifeline. It could have been anyone, he was barely lucid. Now he surely wanted to forget all of that vulnerability and go back to a time where he hadn’t needed help from anyone. Not even you. Especially not you. He was a soldier, after all. Fondness wasn’t in the job description.

Best not to say anything then. Just…leave and get this over with. Just like that. Yeah…easy. Really easy.

Your move to shut the door behind you is halted by him calling your name. Your real name. You didn’t even know he knew your name.

He calls it again, quieter this time, and you lean back in the door, eyes drifting across his room to him. He’s still sitting on the bed where you left him, only now he’s hunched over to rest a forearm on his good thigh. “Come back here,” he breathes, voice cracking, and it hits you right in your stomach, settling there like a wounded bird, flapping and screeching at you to stay away, you’re already in too deep, you don’t know how this will end.

But it’s too late. You’re walking forward, the door swinging shut behind you. Locked. You’re already reaching out for the hand he offers, only for him to reach past the bandages and grab your wrist. You pause at that, staring into the hazy depths of his eyes, pupils bursting for you again. Slowly, inch by excruciating inch, he straightens again, face coming closer to yours as another hand snakes around your neck to help guide you down to straddle his good thigh, moving your forearms to rest on each of his shoulders.

The bird in your stomach has moved to your chest, and you’re positive he can feel your heavy breathing even through his mask with how close you are. His eyes look down to your lips, and you wonder if he is going to lift his hood up and kiss you, your cheeks flushing in anticipation as he leans forward.

Only instead he rests his forehead against yours, eyes drifting closed. You feel your arms drift upwards with his inhale. “Stay with me,” he exhales. “One more night.”

You nod against his forehead, wrapping your arms around his neck and finally letting your own eyes close. Your breathing is slowed down now, and you find yourself enjoying the warmth you feel radiating from everywhere you touch him. One of his hands has spread against your thigh, while the other still rests along your neck, thumb tracing up and down your jaw. You know you could fall asleep just like this.

König, however, has other ideas. As you slump even further to him, both of his hands drift to your hips. You notice the movement, sighing at the pleasant sensation of his hands running over your body. You don’t notice the intention until he takes a deep breath, and in one smooth motion he has stood and twisted to lay you down on the bed, climbing on top of you. You gasp, feeling your heart stutter all over again, blood rushing to your core as you feel the fabric of his hood rub up your neck. His nose, you think.

Fuck, you want him. You want him just like this and any other way he’s willing to give, but you can’t, you shouldn’t, and you know you have to at least try to protest. You bite back a whimper as a hand drags up your inner thigh. “König, your leg.”

“I don’t care,” he growls. “Say my name again.”

You groan in protest and he pulls back, tilting your face up to his. “Is this not what you want?” He feels the way your jaw flexes and pulls away.

“Wait. No. I want this. You. I want you. Just…please be careful.”

He hears the last part, but he’s past giving a damn about his own body now. His hand is already undoing your belt and he’s leaning back to ease your pants and underwear off your legs, lazily tossing them to the side.

A harsh word escapes his throat as he looks down at you, but you don’t catch it through the blood rushing in your ears. “Close your eyes,” he orders, and unthinkingly you do, another growling swear reaching your ears. “So obedient for me.”

You hear the shuffling of fabric and feel a hand wrap around one of your knees, lifting it up for a warm tongue to swirl along the inside of it, for wet lips to place a sloppy kiss just above where his tongue had just been. His lips slide up again, and this time he sucks on the skin just slightly, and you feel your leg tremble as a tiny moan escapes you, but he’s already moving further up and this time sucking harder, and then further and harder and further and harder until he’s against your inner thigh and his teeth are sinking into you and you yelp his name, whining in frustration as he pulls back.

“No,” you pant, “don’t stop. Please.”

You feel a chuckle rumble in his throat and his nose presses into the bottom of your slit. You jolt, squeezing your eyes tighter as it slides up through you before pressing into your sensitive spot, and he inhales.

“Fuck,” you cry, tangling your hands in the sheets only to choke on a sound of pain.

König pulls back immediately and you shake your head at him, a sob on the edge of your quivering lips.

“Easy. Watch your hands.”

You grit your teeth and nod, relaxing your fingers and turning your palms up.

“Good,” he purrs as his hands hook under the backs of your knees, easily throwing your legs over his shoulders. As he settles back down you feel the muscles in his back flexing against your calves and moan before his mouth is even on you.

He hums contentedly at the sound, running his tongue along the length of you before swirling it around your clit. His lips pucker against it and he sucks, pulling away with a soft pop that has you clenching your legs around him. He moves in again, lazily altering between sucking and tracing his tongue just around your bud, feeling the way you flex against him, hearing the way you react to each movement, and committing all of it to memory before shifting his head so he can dip his tongue inside you. He groans at the taste, the vibration of it radiating up under your ribs and down through your legs. You’re quiet now, feeling how close you are settling heavy over you, drowning you in deliciously sweet honey.

He feels the shaking of your legs around him and returns to your clit as he slowly works a finger into you, curling it upwards to stroke at the spongy part inside of you.

You break quietly, choking on his name as the pleasure strangles your muscles and sets them briefly aflame, fresh sensations flowing through you as he continues to touch you just so, only pulling away when you sink into the mattress and your legs slip from his shoulders.

You hear the bed frame creak as he pulls back, running a hand up your thigh before the shifting sound of fabric hits your ears, and you feel the mattress sink down in different places as he shifts.

“Open your eyes.”

You do as he says, your disappointment at seeing the sniper’s hood obscuring his face immediately squashed by the realization that the rest of him is completely naked.

You’re seeing him for the first time.

Fucking hell, what a sight.

Your eyes rest on the delicious curve of his cock first, marveling at the pink tip and the thick veins running along it. You had felt his size on plenty of occasions, but seeing it for the first time is a new beast entirely, one that has you biting your lip and wiggling your hips like a teenager all over again.

But soon your eyes are taken in by the strong curves of muscle outlining his hips, and your eyes are traveling upwards to the delicious bulges of his chest, your own heaving at the sight. You find yourself wanting to trace the outline of each hill and valley of muscle that flows along his shoulders, down his arms, to the hands, wanting to run your tongue along the veins like raised rivers spreading down his forearm and across the back of each hand.

You wonder what his back looks like. You wonder how the muscles of his neck shift as he moves, what the outline of his jaw is shaped like. You are greedy and want to take everything he has, and at the same time you are desperate for anything he can give you. You’re a peasant kneeling at the feet of your king, ready to lick the crumbs he throws you off the floor.

His head tilts playfully, breaking you out of your reverie. “You like what you see?”

Your chuckle catches in your chest, only a tiny puff of air leaving your mouth. “Yes.”

His eyes scrunch a little, and you imagine he is grinning as he leans over, balancing himself above you. He moves back a bit, hand adjusting your hips as he positions himself. He looks back up at you, and you nod eagerly, your hands reaching up to grab his shoulders. He clicks his tongue, glancing at them, and with a groan you put your hands above your head. He moves one of his own to grasp your wrists, keeping them pinned as he sinks onto his forearms.

You feel the head of his cock running up and down your folds, and instinctively bend your back to give him a better angle, earning an approving hum that makes you even wetter. But as he braces himself and begins to drive into you, a strangled sound smashes through his gritted teeth.

Oh no. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

He doesn’t answer, only pressing his face into your neck, inhaling heavily as you feel his entire body stiffening against you. “It’s…it’s fine,” he hisses, his hand strangling your wrists. “Just …” he heaves another breath. “Ah... Ich… I…need a…moment.”

You sigh, wiggling a hand out of his grip to push his chin up. He lets you move his face back, and even in the dim light you can see the way the skin around his eyes has gone even paler than normal. “Get off,” you murmur.

He slumps, twisting his face out of your grip and keeping his eyes on the wall. He stays like that for a second before giving a swift nod and pulling out, maneuvering backwards on the bed and moving to get off.

“Wait!” you burst out, and he freezes. “That’s not what I meant.”

After another moment he looks at you in bewilderment, so you sit up and shift to the side, patting the bed next to you. Awkwardly, he crawls to it, nearly dragging his bad leg, stiffening again when you place your wrists on his shoulders. “Let me?”

After a second of staring into your eyes, he nods again, allowing you to push on him, laying him on his back before you straddle him and finally take your shirt off. You see his chest rise with a shuddering breath and before you really think about it you’re leaning down to lick a stripe up his sternum. Seeing his pecs jerk upwards on either side of your tongue emboldens you and you shift your head, running your tongue back down to circle over one of his nipples before you suck.

Immediately the muscles flex again and he pushes up into you. “Like that,” he snarls, loud and vibrating through your skull. You’re aching down there again, but you’re not done yet. You release him with a squelch, watching the patch of saliva glisten before moving to give the other nipple the same treatment, your heart leaping at the sounds falling from his mouth as he quivers under you.

“König,” you croon. “Touch me.”

He whimpers as you flick your tongue over the sensitive bud. “Where?”

“Anywhere. Grab my hair, squeeze my tits, just put your hands on me.”

You groan as he obeys, long fingers tangling tightly in your hair as his other hand spreads along your ribcage, thumb sliding over your breast. You sigh, leaning down to bite into his pec, moaning as his grip on you tightens. You kiss the mark left by your teeth before leaning back. His hands move to cup both of your breasts as you raise yourself up and sink down onto his cock. You’re too excited and you go too fast, and a sharp pinch of pain seizes at your entrance. You gasp, instinctively leaning forward to brace yourself on your palms, but his hands move to your waist, catching you before you hurt them any further.

“I have you,” he whispers, voice scratchy, and despite the pain you clench at the sound of what you do to him. He chokes on his next words, a groan coming out instead. “Do you need to get off?”

“No!” You whisper-yell back so quickly that he laughs, and despite everything you laugh with him. He runs his hands up and down your sides, feeling you start to relax a little, but not enough yet. “Tell me what you need,” he murmurs.

“It’s fine.” You close your eyes and try to focus on your breathing. “Just need…a moment.”

“Hypocrite.”

You shoot your eyes open to glare at him, only to see his chest shake with another chuckle at your scrunched-up angry face. “Your leg is sliced open, it’s not the same,” you scoff.

His eyes glimmer with the start of a witty retort before one of his hands freezes over your bottom rib, drawing his lovely gaze away from yours. His thumb is circling around a tiny hairline of a scar, bone-white and soft. You’ve already forgotten how you got it.

“This one,” he murmurs. “It is new.”

“How…how did you notice?”

“It wasn’t there last time.” His tone was quiet and matter-of-fact, like the answer was obvious, and it takes you back to every time his hands ran over you as you drifted into sleep. How long did he stay there after you fell asleep? How long did it take him to commit you to memory so well that a patch of skin even you had forgotten was instantly recognized as something new?

Your body has always been a means to an end, a vehicle carrying you rather than a full part of you. Batter it, toss it around, whatever you need to do to get the job done. And when your body protests, you treat it like any other tool you can beat into submission. Like your first battered old car that revved to life with a well-placed kick.

But now all you can think of is his hands running over you with thorough determination, acknowledging each new mark with a gentle reverence that was more than you deserved. Getting to know you in the only way he knew how.

For the first time in a long time, you’re reminded to see this body as something more than a bruised vessel you’re obligated to carry around. He reminds you to see it as something more.

Fuck, you think you might love him.

“König?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

His head tilts a little, his hand still running along your rib, and your cheeks flush.

Before he can reply, you gulp a little. “I…I think I’m ready.”

He hums again, his hands moving back to rest on your hips. You stay still for another moment, looking into his eyes. You don’t think you can memorize his body, not like he has yours. But you have memorized his eyes, have burned them into your mind so clearly you saw them even as you were trapped on that damned mountain. Thinking about him.

And now you think he might've been thinking about you, too.

You feel him twitch inside of you, pulling you out of your thoughts. Taking a deep breath, you raise yourself up slowly, feeling his hands tighten and take some of your weight, following your lead as you sink into him again, this time with a sigh that echoes his own. Slowly, hesitantly, you raise yourself up and down, feeling how easily he stretches you, how easily he could break you.

But he never has. The only pain you’ve gotten from him was caused by your own impatience. As you keep going, finding an angle that has him dragging across your most sensitive parts and making you even wetter, you become confident that there’s no chance of pain, allowing yourself to speed up.

His hands are steady as ever, guiding you up and down, but beneath you his shoulders and chest begin to squirm and heave. His eyes wander all around, and his breaths are scattered and staccato.

And his sounds. You’d never known a man to be so loud, and now you know you’ve been missing out all these years. Every grunt, every groan, every moan and whimper goes straight through your core, winding you up faster and faster. As you get closer his sounds shift, and you realize he’s started to stutter out words.

His eyes are hazy and unfocused but you can still tell they’re trained on you, and you urge your body to calm down for just a minute longer, just long enough to hear what he’s saying.

You can’t make out any of the words, but his hands are even tighter on you now and the way his voice shifts from growling to whimpering settles into a melodic language that has you crying out for him anyway.

Beneath your trembling body, he keeps going. “Never..told you …du bist wie ein Traum,” another whimper leaves his lips. “Ich kann nicht glauben, dass du wirklich hier bist.” He gasps as you clench tighter around him. “Du bist…du…Du bist viel zu gut für mich…Dein Lächeln und …und…” His eyes are watering and you slow down only for his hands to dig into you, urging you to speed up again. “Ich weiß nicht wie ich dich loslassen soll aber du verdienst so viel mehr als …”

His mind is lapsing again, his determined confession faltering into a fervent prayer sent to the only god he’s ever believed in, to you - moving over him and taking everything he is giving you, making him wish he had more, so much more than the desert-dry heart of a killer whose hands can only ever pull things apart. His thumb is over the scar on your rib again and his blurry vision is taking in the white of the bandage wrapped around your hands and it has him wishing his own hands could build something instead of destroy it just so he could put you back together again. You’re coming apart around him, crying his name, and he’s thinking of flinging his body in front of you, taking every bullet and blade meant for you, because his body is all he has to give and he knows how to sacrifice it, he knows he’ll gladly lay it at your altar, bloody and broken, if it could only mean making sure he’d never be surprised by a new scar again. Maybe you’d even remember him a little when he was gone.

He’s trying to tell you all of that, the messy syllables punching through his throat. “Niemals, niemals, nie,…” but before he can finish he’s failing already, falling apart under you and screaming your name and emptying everything he has into you.

It’s not enough.

You’re laying on top of him now and he tries his best to be gentle but his entire body is shaking as he rolls you off and staggers to his bathroom, slamming the door behind him and sinking against it.

He shatters in a whole-body-wracking sob.

You’re never going to look at him again.

He tucks his legs in, squeezing his knees into his chest, squeezing even harder as a burn radiates out from the stitches, trying to rein in his ragged breathing in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, he can save this and cover up the fact that he’s crying.

It was just meant to be casual sex. He wasn’t supposed to start caring. That’s not what you wanted. It’s not fair to you. It’s not your fault he let himself get emotional. And now he’s ruined the only thing you two did have, he wanted to make you feel better and now he’s made you so uncomfortable and…and…

He slams his forehead into his knees and sobs again.

He’s pathetic. Pathetic to think this could be something more. Pathetic to think he could have something more.

Everything hurts.

That’s what he signed up for, isn’t it?

That’s what he deserves.

A knock on the door has his head jerking back up, hands clutching his knees hard enough the knuckles just might pop through the skin. “Go away!”

“No.” Your tone is flat as he hears a thunk against the other side of the door, imagining you leaning against it and sliding down, mirroring him perfectly. “Not until you talk to me.”

“No.”

You sigh. “That's how it’s gonna be? Well, in that case, to quote a man I…admire very much, I can make you talk.” You drop your voice, trying and failing to mimic his battle growl.

He snorts despite himself.

You take that as a cue to continue. “For one, I’m not leaving until you do. You’ll be stuck with my annoying-ass voice forever.”

“I like your voice.”

“Oh…umm…thank you. In that case I’ll…I’ll steal all your knives and I’ll draw a kangaroo on your door and-”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he growls.

“Guess you’ll never know if you keep that door closed. And that’s not all, I’ll…I’ll steal those cheap chocolates we get every supply drop. Don’t deny it, I know everyone joked it was Ghost but I saw you take them all. You love those.” You smile, laughing a little. “On the other hand, I’ll fly to Austria right now if that’s what it takes to get some chocolate you’d really like. I’d even get you some of those waffle things you were telling Soap about that one time I caught you both raiding the snack cabinets. Well, I’d probably eat some of those. But I promise to save most of them for you. Just…please talk to me. I’ll…I’ll…” you’re cut off by your own squeak as the door opens and you fall backwards.

His hands are already there to catch you, and once you sit back up he stays there, half-crouched and awkward, eyes anywhere but your own.

Slowly, you open your arms, watching his head turn back to you.

In an instant he’s lunged into you, burrowing his face into your neck with an awkward grunt as he stretches his bad leg out to the side. You try to change to a comfier position for him but the man is like a brick wall.

It’s nice.

So you let yourself stay there, wrapping around him as he wraps around you on the hard floor. It’s a softness unknown to you both, two soldiers carved razor-sharp from solid steel. But as you let yourself sink into him, you find yourself liking the strange tranquility of this moment, the way two bodies made for war can still drape over each other and feel peace instead. Against all better judgement, against any scrap of common sense you have left, you find yourself yearning for a few less battles if it can mean more of this. You let your eyes close, imagining it for just a little while.

After a while, he pulls back, moving to lean against the wall and pulling you so you can balance on his uninjured thigh. You let your head loll onto his shoulder, face turned into the hood. His chin rests on your temple.

“Are you cold?”

He grunts noncommittally, eyes half-closed. “Are you?”

“Nooo,” you mumble, burrowing into his neck. He shifts, maneuvering you off his lap, only to grunt when he tries to push on his leg.

“I got it.” You push yourself up, moving to the bed to retrieve one of the blankets there, carefully wrapping it around both of your torsos when you settle back onto his lap. Your legs stick out, but you don’t really care.

After a while you feel his heartbeat begin to pick up again and adjust yourself to look up at him. His eyes drift to you before he sighs. “Do you…still want me to talk?”

You nod.

“Alright then. I will talk. I do not think it is what you want to hear.”

You bite your lip and try to keep your breathing steady as he continues.

“Back in the med bay. No. Before that.” He shakes his head emphatically. “When we were assigned to two different groups…No…Scheiße, I…”

You run a shaky hand up and down his chest. “It’s okay. Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

His fingers dig into you for a fraction of a second, so quick you think you might have imagined it before his entire body is deflating, his head settling back against the wall. “They ambushed us. You weren’t there but…they hit us on patrol, hit us and ran before we could counter. I did not even see who hit me, I just look up one moment and down the next and the snow is all red and…” His voice drops to barely a whisper “Das war meines.” He trails off completely, a finger tracing circles on your shoulder. “I've been wounded before. I've accepted death before. This time...before I...while I was…” he exhales another irritated sigh. “I was on the ground and…wie sag ich das…ich hab versucht etwas zu tun, mich zu bewegen aber alles was ich tun konnte...I was thinking of you.”

He freezes, turning his head away and dropping his hands from you. But instead of moving away, you kiss a patch of skin just outside the hood, watching the muscle under it jump. “Is that all you want to tell me?”

He shakes his head.

“Do you think you can keep going?”

His head turns back to you briefly before he tilts it up to stare at the ceiling. “When I was in the med bay. Well, I…it went like this. I wake up and you are there and I think, König this is it, now you are finally dead. And then I feel the pain and I see the nurse and you were moving away and I couldn't…du warst da und dann warst du fast nicht mehr da und ich konnte nicht atmen. Ich…” he shakes his head back and forth, back and forth. “Ich konnte nicht ohne dich. Ich…needed you to stay.” His head jerks down again, eyes boring into yours with all the intensity of a tornado, arms wrapping around you once again. “I need you to stay.”

You nod, holding him tight, the weight of the words unspoken tangling in your chest and constricting your tongue. Stay. With me. He won't ask for more than tonight, not when neither of you can even risk asking for a tomorrow. Stay with me. For as long as you have. A day, maybe. A month. Maybe you'll get out of this mess someday and get years.

Stay with me for a lifetime. Whatever lifetime we get.

You nod, whispering a promise into his skin. Always. Your fingers drift down along his leg, tracing just outside the stitches, your eyes following the line of gooseprickles that rise in their wake.

You feel more than you hear your name being whispered into your hair, and as you look up fingers wrap around your wrist, guiding it up over his hip, his ribs, his chest. Sliding around the edge of the hood, pushing it up, up, up. Until the fabric slides off. You gaze in awe, watching his jaw flex as his lips part to form a word whose sound hides in the back of his throat. Always. You look back into his eyes before surging forward, hugging him tight, tight enough to strangle, you think, but he’s already wrapping himself around you with equal fervor.

“You know,” you murmur, breath ruffling his hair, “if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

He huffs a laugh, the air catching in his lungs with a choking sound. His grip tightens.

When you wake you find you’ve been moved to the bed, but his face is still buried in your neck, unmoving despite the soft light filtering in your window. You smile a little, watching the early-morning sky, perfectly clear and pale blue.

It matches his eyes.

---

German Translations

du bist wie ein Traum: You are like a dream

Ich kann nicht glauben, dass du wirklich hier bist: I can’t believe you are here

Du bist viel zu gut für mich: You are too good to me

Dein Lächeln und…: You smile and…

Ich weiß nicht wie ich dich loslassen soll aber du verdienst so viel mehr als: I don't know how I am supposed to let go of you (eventually) but you (clearly) deserve so much more than me

Niemals, niemals, nie: never again, never again, never

Scheiße: shit

Das war meines: it was mine

wie sag ich das: how do I say this

ich hab versucht etwas zu tun, mich zu bewegen aber alles was ich tun konnte: I tried doing something, moving, but all I could do

du warst da und dann warst du fast nicht mehr da und ich konnte nicht atmen. Ich…: you were there and then you nearly weren’t there and I could not breathe. I…

Ich konnte nicht ohne dich. Ich…: I couldn’t without you. I…

#könig #könig call of duty #cod #cod mwii #könig x reader

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buryustogether · 8 months

Text

the end of forever (god’s day)

aziraphale x reader x crowley

summary: the end of forever comes on god’s day.

word count: 2.6k

warnings/tags: angst, mentions of blood

author’s note: dedicated to @avocado-writing , with whom i did a fic trade and this was my piece!! this fic is part of their good omens original timeline, and i highly recommend reading it!!! <333

The end of forever started on a Saturday evening.

Granted, it was not the Saturday evening that dominates the beginning to every weekend, fitted with gentle rainfall pattering against the windows, and a book propped in your lap, and the comfortable ambiance of your lovers on either side as you let yourself be lulled into peace. Instead it was a dark, thrashing kind of Saturday, filled with panicked whispers over dances, and demons busting down the bookshop windows in hails of twinkling glass. It was blinding, seared into the forefront of your mind with traces of a halo detached from its angel and a pair of souls running away, bound for opposite sides of the universe and forever vanished into one corner together.

And, of course, it was snapped up in the jaws of the Metatron. He had taken Aziraphale for a stroll around the block once or twice, leaving you and Crowley to stare down the mess of what had become the bookshop and wonder if perhaps this had all been a dream.

“Fancy breakfast at the Ritz, love?” Crowley had said as the pair of you began to pluck cracked books from the floor and stack them to be restored and reshelved. With a wave of his slender fingers, he had sent the shards of glass cascading through the air like a silent breeze back to where they belonged in the window frames. “Reckon we deserve it, after a night like that.”

“Sure you’ll be able to handle the drive?” you had said and handed him the empty fire extinguisher, which had fallen down the winding iron staircase. “I’m sure you’re exhausted, Crowley. Spending all that time in Heaven? Must have been awfully straining on you.”

Though he would never admit it, Crowley rather enjoyed it when you fussed over him. He relished in the worry threading your voice together, craved the inevitable babying that accompanied your measures of protection. His chest had puffed slightly, and if you could have seen them, you were sure his wings had ruffled a bit.

“I’ll be alright,” he’d assured, then dropped into the chair he had long ago claimed as his beside Aziraphale’s desk. “Wouldn’t say no to a nap when we come back, though. Could sleep for a few decades, I think. Skip all the garish drama that’s sure to follow something like this. Care to join, nightingale?”

You had smiled at him, eyes full of exhaustion and yet at the same time, the restlessness that came with the knowledge part of your trio was still missing from the picture. “Afraid I can only keep you company a few hours,” you mused. “Immortal as I am, I don’t think I can lie still long enough until you decide to wake up.” Despite your teasing, you reached out your hand to caress his jaw, and he leaned into your warm touch. He knew it like he knew his own breath in his throat at this point, but he still nuzzled into your palm like an animal seeking warmth. Funny enough creature as he was, he was still, deep down, a demon searching your soul for any glimpse of love you might spare him. “I’m glad you’re okay, Crowley,” you said, letting your voice lower in volume so he understood you had dropped your jokes and cracks. “I don’t think I could bear losing you. Either of you.”

He had leaned up to kiss you then, lips and tongue seeking yours like, in spite of your words, one side or the other might tear you away from him. He tasted like cinnamon - an odd enough musk for him, but he had just returned from Heaven, after all. You were sure he hated it. But you had drank it in like it was the last thing you’d taste before you fell.

You found yourself some time later amongst the back shelves of the shop, knees and the heels of your hands aching as you painstakingly wiped away and polished the spots on the floor upon which unholy blood had been spilt and spattered. Aziraphale would not care to have those on his tile, thank you. A voice in the back of your head told you that one of your boys could simply miracle the mess away, but this seemed a bit more intimate - cleaning up the mess for your lover. This was your shop, too, in a way. And you wanted to rid it of any trace of what had happened here last night.

You only realized it was Sunday morning - God’s day - when you heard the bell above the front door jingle with its familiar chime, and the low rumble of your lover’s voices filled the empty space between the air. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, not over the sound of your brush against the floor and the dull ache in your lower back. After a long few minutes, you sat back and inspected your work.

Like the demon invasion of Fell and Co. had never even happened.

You were just about to call out to your boys when you heard a sharp hiss to Crowley’s voice that caused your heart to skip a beat. You twisted your head around to face the front of the store. Crowley only ever hissed when he let his disguise slip and his tongue split. And he only ever let his tongue split when he was so distraught not even a raging thunderstorm could comfort him.

Wiping your hands on your legs, you cautiously made your way through the organized maze of shelves toward the front entrance of the bookshop. There stood your lovers, the angel and the demon, staring one another down like they had never met, like their love had vaporized, like they had never met in that garden at the beginning.

“What’s happened?” you said and made your presence known as you stepped down into the threshold. “What’s wrong?”

Aziraphale turned to face you, obviously making an effort to brighten his features, but it was Crowley who faced away. Dropped his weight onto his arm against the desk. Reached up to tug off his shades, toss them aside hard enough that the lens cracked in its frame. The air crackled with a kind of tension that reared its head so rarely it was almost foreign to you. Or, perhaps, was that divine energy rippling the air, stirred and upset by the creatures standing before you?

“Darling,” said Aziraphale, then reached out to take your hands and placed kisses upon your knuckles. His lips were plump and soft, and when they made contact with the skin of your hand, a tiny sense of ease washed over your veins. “You needn’t worry about this. Just a… little dispute.”

“Oh, don’t lie to her like a child,” seethed Crowley from across the room, and whatever ease had settled your nerves disappeared in the blink of an eye. You felt your blood turn to ice beneath your skin when you heard a wobble, a shake, in his voice. Was your demon… holding back tears? He bared his teeth, which he’d allowed to sharpen like blades, and jutted out an accusatory finger toward his husband. “Tell them, or I bloody will,” he snapped, then lifted a deadly brow. “And you won’t like the way I phrase things, angel.”

Alarm blared like a siren in your head, flashed like lights that burned your eyes even through your lids. You knew at once this surely had something to do with last night, with the Metatron, and you were unable to stop yourself from snapping around to stare at Aziraphale expectantly. Where you searched for comfort and reassurance, you found only irritation and exasperation.

“Aziraphale,” you said, gripping his hands tighter as you gently shook your head with confusion. You only barely managed to keep your voice from shaking; something was very, very wrong. This was not like the time two hundred years ago when they had stopped talking to one another for a decade. This was far more serious, far more dangerous. “Aziraphale, what’s happening?”

Your angel stared into your eyes - or, perhaps, he was staring at his own reflection in your irises - and he let out a breath you had not heard him take in. “The Metatron,” he began slowly, softly, like you were a spooked animal who would run if he talked too loud, “has given me a generous, generous offer.”

From across the room, Crowley scoffed over his shoulder and gave another hiss from between his teeth.

“Based on a few of the…” Aziraphale seemed to struggle with the words. “Good deeds that have been performed the last six thousand years, Heaven has agreed to allow me back into its order - as the Supreme Archangel, now that Gab… Jim has vacated his position.” Despite the slow, sinking feeling growing like a black hole in your gut as he went on, the beginnings of an excited smile played upon the corners of his lips. “And they’ve even offered to redeem Crowley - as an angel again!”

The bookshop was a deadly kind of quiet, the kind that filled empty spaces with fear, and dread, and horror until there was nothing left but a rotting mess. Your mouth hung agape as you tried to process your angel’s words, tried to swallow down what he’s just said. Heaven wanted him back - would take Crowley back. That would be it. Their time on Earth would come to a close, a thunderous applause, a devastating end.

Yet there was a single question that hung tight in the air, one that waited like a dagger above each of your heads, waiting to see who would speak of it first.

Could you handle the sting when it planted itself in your back? “Aziraphale,” you heard yourself whisper as your brows knitted together and tears puddled in the corners of your eyes, “what about me?”

Though you could not see it, Crowley shut his eyes and pursed his lips, still attempting to stop the tears from falling down the gaunt planes of his cheeks. He knew the answer already, knew his angel far too well to pretend it could be anything different. He wanted to protect you from it, clasp his hands over your ears and snarl and snap at the world until he’d frightened everything that could hurt you far, far away. But you had to hear this.

Aziraphale swallows thick, holding your hands a bit tighter, like you might bolt from his grasp any moment. Even when you shift, he grips you in an iron grasp. “Well,” he drawls slowly, hesitation creeping into the corners of his voice, “of course, Heaven can’t grant holy status to… ah… humans. Immortal or not, I’m afraid, my love. But do you know angels hold the ability to possess human souls within themselves? Keep them safe and sound - isn’t that lovely? Why, I’m not the first angel in history to find a human they can’t let go of.” His hold tightens again, turning your skin pale where he grips you. “I - we could bring you with us. Your soul, darling.”

Every ounce of curiosity, of worry and fear, has morphed into a single sickening, dripping, venomous sensation that floods your systems, encases your body like a cocoon swallowing you whole; horror.

“You want to take my soul to Heaven,” you said quietly, so terribly softly that it was barely above a whisper. “Like a pet.” With this, you yanked your hands from Aziraphale’s and forced yourself to take three steps back. It stung like knives between your ribs to do so, to bear the expression painting itself across your husband’s face, but there was no other choice. “Aziraphale, you would trade us - trade this - to go back to them? After what they’ve done to you?” You took another step back, and you felt yourself bump into the chest of your demon. “After what they did to Crowley?”

You had always heard betrayal hurt worse from a lover than anyone else. Was this what betrayal felt like? Like stones in your pocket with a river pulling you under? Like venom slowly sucking your life from your very veins.

“No, of course not,” your angel tried, raising his hands. He opened his mouth to go on, then threw up a palm and sniffed out an exasperated huff. “If you both would just try and understand…”

“Oh, we understand plenty.” There came no term of endearment at the end of Crowley’s statement, no playful lilt or head nod. Only the cold, piercing gaze of those yellow eyes, and the slow wrapping of his hands around your arms, pulling you closer against him.

The movement caught Aziraphale’s eye, and hellfire flashed within them. “Oh, I should have known it would go this way,” he chided, pacing forward. “Here I thought you could, for once, Crowley, suppress your demonic ways of swaying her to your side. For once! Are you satisfied, you old serpent? Are you content with what’s happening?”

“How dare you!” The shout came from deep within your chest, an explosive rage nothing short of a scream that leaves the angel frozen where he stands. Those ocean eyes flicker to yours as you at last allow yourself to cry, to feel the sobs wrack your body like earthquakes and feel the tears gathering at the point of your chin. “How dare you let them come between us, Aziraphale! Between us!” You choked a bit and your angel visibly fought a battle within himself, wanting to pull away and surge forward all at once. “After everything… after everything we’ve been through, everything we’ve built, and you want to leave it to play God.”

“Of course I’m not leaving us,” your angel murmured, the crows feet against his eyes making themselves known as he knits his brows. Tears brim the edges of his vision. “I - I would be taking us with me. To somewhere safe… for all of us.”

“No,” you exhaled shakily, feeling Crowley’s fingers tighten around your upper arms. You shook your head at Aziraphale, your ears ringing and heart shattered. “Not safe for us. Better for you.” You peered into his eyes, into those watery blue eyes you could have drowned in, and saw your reflection staring back as he searched for something he could not find. “You miss Heaven, Aziraphale. You always have - and we know that. We all do.” There came a terrible, horrible, dreadful pause. “But we can’t go with you. We won’t.”

Your angel seemed at a loss for words. He simply stood there, staring you and his husband down. He gaped. Tried to form words. Took a step back.

Above you, his fingers now digging so tightly, so fiercely, so protectively, into your skin that his nails left marks, Crowley sneered and hissed in a voice filled with the desolation of a fallen angel, “You idiot.” You turned your face and tucked it into his shirt. “We could have been… us.”

Aziraphale said nothing for a very, very long time. Then he murmured, “I forgive you both.”

The bell over the door jingled, and he was gone, without leaving so much as a feather behind.

You sobbed loudly, awfully, horribly into Crowley’s chest, and you felt his own unholy, burning tears fall against your hairline as he stroked your tresses and kept you standing.

The end of forever started on a Saturday evening, and ended on a Sunday morning.

It was God’s day, after all.

#good omens #good omens crowley #good omens aziraphale #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x reader #crowley x reader #good omens x reader #the light the dark and the spaces in between fic

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wearyeyebrow · 1 year

Text

Worthy In Blue

Summary: You’ve been working on a little surprise project for Lucifer involving navy blue rope and a mahogany chair. You know Lucifer has a penchant for ropework, so what if you gave him an evening to put those skills, and your own, to good use?

Tags under the cut.

Tags: submissive lucifer, dominant MC, rope, restraints, MC is in rope, Lucifer is restrained, pegging, cunnilingus, gn MC, afab MC, mutual possessiveness, romance, established relationship, pre-nightbringer

Tonight is the long awaited Grimte Banquet where all the noble houses gather. Relationships are maintained, new ones started, and it’s all Lucifer can do to keep his brothers in line. Luckily, he has you to keep Mammon by your side and Beel full of food.

The night drones on spent managing many noble advances. He spares you a weary glance and you wink at him from across the hall. He can’t help the quirk of his mouth, a slight smile amidst everything. You’re impossibly charming.

A few moments later and he hears your voice in his ear. “Meet me in the coat room, I have something to show you.”

You slip away and disappear somewhere in the crowd. Eventually he manages a moment alone, horribly curious as he finds his way to you.

You close the door behind him, nearly hidden amidst coats of all sizes. “Hi gorgeous,” you wrap your arms around his waist.

"A coat closet?" He muses.

“I won’t keep you. Pretty sure Beel is looking for me too… Here.” You hold up your phone, “What do you think?”

You’re showing him a picture of… rope? “This is what you wanted to show me?”

“I could hardly send it to your phone right now, what with the entire royal court surrounding you. Plus, I’d rather explain its implications in person.”

“Implications?”

“Mm. Are you free next Friday night? Around 10pm?”

“I…” he allows himself a small smile, “I might be able to spare you some time.”

“Oh might you?” You smirk, “Well, if you’re too busy I completely understand. I’m capable of appreciating my own hard work.”

He acts affronted, grabbing you by the waist and kissing your hand. “Would a willing participant not please you more?”

“Isn’t that why I asked you in the first place?” He’s captivated by the crinkle of your nose, by the warmth of your smile.

“You’ve caught me,” he chuckles, “I’m all yours.”

“Then it’s a date. Do you like the color?”

You show him your phone again and he hums appreciatively. "Did you get it from Cloven Boutique? I didn’t think they stocked colored rope."

“They don’t, I dyed it myself."

“Truly?” He looks closer, in want of his glasses. “It looks like a professional job."

"Well, I had to get the color just right - I love the look of you in blue."

"Oh?" His tone softens.

“Mhm…” You appreciatively sweep your eyes up his body, lingering the gold peacock tie-clip you got him last month. You reach out and adjust his collar, “I love seeing you in things I’ve bought.”

“You have good taste.”

“Do you really think so?”

He frowns. “I wouldn’t wear something if it didn’t suit me.”

You laugh, “I know, I just wanted to hear you say it.”

“You’re horrible.”

“I’m charming.”

He fondly rolls his eyes. “I suppose both descriptors are accurate. I will look forward to it all week.”

“I think it’ll be worth the wait.” You lean up and brush your lips against his, “Don’t dance with too many nobles now.”

“Haven’t you noticed? All eyes are on you tonight. It’s taken everything in me not to whisk you away.”

“Likewise, darling.” You wink at him again and his heart certainly doesn’t flutter.

Lucifer knocks on your closed door, waiting for you to beckon him inside.

The first thing he notices is an old mahogany chair in the middle of your room, stolen from the hallway. It sits odd against your comfortable furniture.

You make a show of locking your door, brushing against his shoulder as you pass by. Then you cast a noise canceling spell - nothing but an emergency could disturb you now.

When you meet his eyes you're delighted by his wanting expression, unguarded and open in his desire. "I wonder…" you walk over to him, "how much you've thought about this night, curious about what I've planned?" You straighten his tie, close enough to see him swallow.

"It has been on my mind." He takes your hand in his own and kisses your knuckles, looking every part adoring.

You chuckle fondly, "Especially in the evenings, when you think of me?"

His cheeks heat up but his gaze is steady. “I won’t deny it."

“Honesty suits you." He goes in for a kiss just as you pull away. "I want to show you something."

He makes a curious sound and you leave him to open your dresser drawer. "Now, you knew I'd be using rope tonight, but for what exactly I didn't tell you." You gather the rope in your arms, "It might not seem like much of a deviation."

"Oh?" He eyes the rope you've picked.

"You still like it?"

He turns the rope over in his hands, "It’s richer than I remember. How did you do it?"

"Blue mangled beetles - kind of like carmine, but the process is simpler. When dried and crushed they make a beautiful dark navy dye that doesn’t bleed."

"You did your research."

You chuckle and take the rope from his hands. "Only the best for you. Gloves off."

He slips off his right leather glove, finger by finger - wait. “Blue?” You look at him inquisitively. His nails are a rich navy blue, perfectly manicured and glossy.

His eyes flicker behind you, cheeks dusting pink. “I painted them a few days ago.”

You're confused for a minute, then it hits you. “Wait - because of me?”

His voice drops, “You - you mentioned-" He clears his throat, "I thought you might like them.”

"I love them, Lucifer…" You kiss his knuckles, his palm, his wrist, before pulling him in for a proper kiss. His hand cups your jaw and he makes a small, plaintive sound. He really had been thinking about your words all this time.

You pull away with reluctance. "It's time I tell you what we’ll be doing tonight. Shall we start the scene?"

He clears his throat again and sweeps his own magic over your door. "Let us begin."

"Any titles are allowed tonight, you can address me however you’d like. Red to stop the act, yellow to pause, and green for all good. Fire if you want to stop the scene entirely."

"Understood.”

“Then…" the glint in your eyes makes him a little weak in the knees. "I know you have a penchant for ropework. And I know how much you enjoy earning my praise. So, I had a thought - tonight I’d like you to use your ropework skills and tie me up, but I want full range of motion, you know, a design strictly for aesthetics.” You pull the rope taught in your hands, “And then, if you do a good enough job, I may reward you with some rope of my own. What do you say?” You hold out the rope to him.

You smile and oblige, settling into the cold wooden seat. He eyes you and then the rope, contemplative, before loosening his tie and rolling up his sleeves. He circles you, and you admire the focused, pointed look on his face as he carefully plans an intricate design in his mind’s eye. He’s completely in his element and you love to watch him work.

“What an intriguing idea...” He takes the rope from your hands with soft reverence, feeling the rough texture between his fingers. “You really got such a nice shine to it,” he murmurs, mostly to himself. He breathes out slowly and gestures to the mahogany chair, “Please dear, relax.”

“Ah,’ you suddenly realize, “This might help.” You lift up your shirt and drop it next to the chair before shimmying out of your bottoms, leaving you bare before him.

“Yes…” he murmurs as his eyes roam your skin.

You feel a pleasant tingle up your spine when he brushes his fingers through your hair, gently gathering until he can put it up properly above your neckline. Your body relaxes under his touch.

The first knot is an anchor tie just below your bust, he uses four strands and divides them into two, slipping each half over your shoulders and back down to meet your back. The rough texture warms you from the outside in but his careful touch is cool against your skin.

You watch him as he works, loving the interplay of shadow that falls across his sharp features. He catches you staring.

“Am I pleasing to look at, Madam?”

“Yes, very much so.”

Your pact mark sings and you chuckle, bemused at the sensation. “You like it when I compliment you, don’t you, my little black bird?”

His cheeks heat up and his eyebrows furrow, as he’s put off by the pet name, but the humming in your chest only continues. “I can feel it, you know? Honesty really does suit you best - your face is much prettier wearing it.”

The tips of his ears turn pink but he circles you, wrapping his arms around your midsection to finish fixing a knot in place. Suddenly his warm lips press into the crook of your shoulder. The deep undertones of his voice make you shiver as he whispers in your ear. “You will be the death of me.”

You turn to meet his eyes, coy mischief in your own. “I think you’ll survive.” He chuckles and you kiss him once, twice, just to make him simmer. He almost goes back in for a third but you brush your thumb over his bottom lip. “Not yet.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He kisses your shoulder once more.

Time passes in a lovely, hazy sort of way. Lucifer relaxes into the process as you'd hoped he would. It’s a gentle sort of focus where his mind is set on something, a place where nothing else can bother him or tear away his careful attention. He loves taking your direction, easing him out of his mind, constantly wound too tight.

Finally he kneels to finish the job, gingerly maneuvering one of your legs up and over his shoulder to wrap a strand around the back of your thigh. His eyes wander this time, following the line of your body until he lingers between your legs. As if he can’t help himself he kisses your skin, leaving a delicate trail up the inside of your thigh.

You cup his jaw in one hand and he kisses your palm, eyeing between your legs. “After you finish,” you murmur, “You’ll have to earn what you get tonight.” His eyes flicker to yours and he continues moving, finishing the tie he started.

“I believe I’m finished, will you stand?”

You do so, feeling the bend and flex of rope. Nothing feels too tight, everything is snug, hugging the curves of your body. You admire what lacing you can see, particularly the delicate design around your hands and wrists. He truly had taken his time, a glance at the clock proves that an hour has passed.

Finally you turn around and examine his work in the mirror. Your eyes light up at his intricate ropework. You’re beautiful, elegant, fully mobile and yet covered in faux restraints. You admire yourself, making a show of your appreciation. His chest puffs out and the pact mark on your chest rumbles. You gently circle your clit with one finger and enjoy how he shifts uncomfortably behind you.

You want more from him. Your body aches from an hour of foreplay.

You cup his jaw with one hand. “Kneel.”

“Yes Sir,” he murmurs, almost breathless.

His willing, almost eager demonstration of your power over him, of his own lack of control, further spurns you on, and you know he can hold your weight.

"Show me, then, devotion to your work." You prop one leg up on the hard mahogany seat, exposing yourself for him. Rope hugs your thighs, indenting and highlighting what he wants most.

His eyes flicker between your face and your clit. He licks his lips. "Thank you, Sir."

You run a hand through his hair and brace the other on the back of the chair. As soon as his tongue touches your clit you gasp, unable to help yourself. You’ve been on edge for so long now, throbbing at every new rope and delicate detail. You savor his mouth, rocking your hips into his face gently. "Yes…" he sucks and licks as you drip onto his tongue and he moans softly at the gentle tug of your hand in his hair.

You'll come quickly and you know it - you rock against him faster now and he wraps his fingers through the ropes on the back of your thigh before squeezing your ass and petting between your legs.

You look down at him, at his disheveled appearance, tousled hair, and too-tight pants. “Lucifer, darling, you - ah - you don’t have to say anything, no thoughts, no control, just take what I give you."

He groans and claws at the backs of your thighs, pulling you forward against his mouth.

You tilt your head back. "Good man, good job-" he whines and flicks his tongue with renewed vigor, "fffuck, right there…"

You fuck his face, shivering and shaking, chasing your orgasm. He holds you upright and supports your body, grasping at his own ropework. You moan and twitch. A glance at the mirror brings you closer still, “Look baby, look at you, making me feel so fucking good… shit-” Your grip on his hair tightens as you twist your hand, pulling him forward. He moans, high and breathy, harshly breathing through his nose.

His right hand supports your waist while his left squeezes your ass. Just a minute more, a second more, finally, finally his palpable desire sends you over the edge, and god how it fills the air. He takes it all and you don't fall, even as your legs lock and your grip falters. You shake and shiver in his tight grasp, palms holding tight to his shoulders. He keeps licking, just enough to keep you there until tension dissipates and you’re overstimulated. Only then does his grip loosen, following your body as you stand on your own, knees shaking.

There's an unspoken tenderness in his eyes - your baby takes pride in service.

You step away from him when you can, fixing his hair and cleaning your cum from his lips. "Sit on the chair, darling."

His knees crack when he gets up, stiff from his place on the hardwood floor. He sits, bulge straining against his trousers, watching you with rapt attention.

"I think…" you turn around, "You've more than earned your reward - as if there was any doubt in my mind."

“Oh?” He practically glows at your praise.

"And…” you walk over to your nightstand once more, "I'm not done with this yet." He swallows, gaze fixated on the rope in your hands. You smirk, "You like that idea?"

He shifts again. "Yes I - very much."

You reach into your nightstand and pull out a matte black silicone dildo, smaller, elegant even. You hold it up. “What about this? Are you up for it tonight?”

“Yes,” he nods, “I prepared myself for the possibility.”

“Perfect,“ you breathe, already excited. “Then…” your smile is nearly wicked as you regard him and his cock throbs in earnest. “Clothes off. Hands behind your back - hold your forearms.”

He acquiesces, knowing exactly what you want.

Soon he’s sitting naked on the chair, hands held behind his back, willingly at your mercy. Your ties aren’t nearly as elegant, but they restrict his movement and hug his body. You restrain his arms behind his back with a chest harness, carefully distributing the weight of the rope, adding just a touch of flourish. Even in such a simple design he looks lovely. Blue really is his color, you think, admiring him. He catches your eye.

“I was right,” you say, tilting his chin up for a chaste peck on the lips, “You look lovely in blue.” He groans and chases your lips this time. You let him, just once, and deepen the kiss yourself, before grabbing him by the hair, wrenching his head up. “Not yet, darling.”

“As you wish.” He’s breathless and kiss bitten.

You leave him and stack two large pillows on top of each other. You motion for him to stand before grabbing him by the restraints. “I will help you get into position,” you chuckle darkly, “I want you face down.”

His cheeks feel hot but he nods, “Yes Sir.”

“Good man. Lie down.”

It takes a moment since he can’t move his arms but you finally have him exactly where you want him, chest pushed into the bed, hips and ass raised by the pillows beneath him.

He tilts his head to look at you with one eye, eyebrow raised as you appear with more rope.

‘Can’t have you squirming too much, now can I?” He groans into the pillow beneath him and nods.

“Tell me if you’re ever uncomfortable or need to readjust, this position might get tiring after awhile.”

“I’m sure I can take it.”

“I’m sure you can, but I’m not asking. Tell me.”

He shivers. “Yes Ma’am.”

“Good.”

You uncap the lube on your nightstand and snap a glove on. He shivers at the cold feeling of your lubed finger rubbing against him, but as your hand warms so does his body and he slowly starts to meet your gentle thrusts as you enter him. You love this part. It’s incredibly intimate, almost more so that the ensuing sex, because anyone else would have been thrown out long ago - he has only ever done this with you.

Once you’re up to two fingers comfortably you withdraw your hand and replace it with your lubed up strap. “Ready?”

“I’ve been ready.” You smack his ass and he gasps.

“What was that?”

“I apologize, yes I - I’m ready.”

“That’s better. One more remark like that,” you murmur, pressing in slowly, “And I’ll rethink your reward.”

He hisses, wiggling his hips, “A-Apologies - it won’t happen again.”

‘I know it won’t,” you smile, “because you love this too much.” Finally, finally you move your hips, slow at first, until finding a gentle rhythm. You use his bound legs as leverage, pushing deep inside of him as his low, desperate moans fill the air.

As his body strains against the rope it holds tight, digging into his skin - this heat, this pleasure, your power over him is dizzying. For a few blissful moments he can’t think, all he can do is feel you surround him and hear your haunting voice in his ear.

It is easy to admire him, Lucifer Morningstar splayed out before you, rocking his ass into your hips, wanting more, more. You grab the rope holding his forearms tight against his back and pull, arching his back against the sheets. He cries out, and you lean down, pushing all your weight on top of him.

“That feel good, baby? Heh, you love it don’t you?” Your hips are slow and deep, grinding on his favorite spot, “You love being fucked like this. Wrapped in my rope, under my hand-” He moans, long and debauched. “I’m the only one who gets to fuck you like this, you belong to me, don’t you?”

“Yes-!”

You’re breathless above him. “We belong to each other, right, love?”

His eyes open and he gazes at you in the adjacent mirror, “Yes…” You dip and kiss the back of his neck, soft and sweet, "Hnn…" he takes in a shuddering breath and lets his head fall forward.

“That's right, no one else deserves to touch you, no one else is good enough, worthy enough.” You whisper in his ear.

He gasps your name and pushes his ass against your hips, pathetically fucking himself on your strap. Every slap of your skin sears welts into his body. You grab his hair and jerk his body up.

“Eyes open, look at yourself.” He didn’t think he could get any redder, but the sight of you behind him, fucking his ass with slow purposeful thrusts, restraining him while tied in his own ropework, it's too much, he can’t - he’ll -

You wrench his head up, “Keep looking,” you pant, “look at the face you make when you come for me.”

He can’t help it, he comes fast and hot, hips stuttering, mouth open and gasping. You slow but you don’t stop. He whimpers but dutifully stays, taking it all.

“Good man,” you praise him, “So. Fucking. Good-” you punctuate your words by digging your nails into his back. You slowly drag them downward and tiny specks of blood bubble to the surface. He hisses but his cock jumps beneath him. “You like a little pain, don’t you?” You slap his ass with an open palm. “Answer me.”

“Yes, yes Ma’am -”

“Yes what?”

"Fuck - more, please-!”

“Filthy.” You bite, before indulging him with another slap on the ass.

You run your nails gently over the welts and he sighs in bliss. In this moment of calm you use all your strength to hoist him upward again, until his back is flush against your chest. You wrap a hand around his throat and start to bounce him on your cock. His eyes roll back and he groans, reaching around to grab your hip as he rocks back into you.

“When I cut you loose,” you pant, “I want you to lie down on your back, legs spread, waiting and ready for me again. Do you understand me?”

He swallows breathlessly and nods.

You lean him forward and gently pull out. You untie his legs, and then his arms before dropping the rope next to the bed. His body is tinged red with slight rope burn, just how he likes.

He rolls over onto his back, finally making eye contact with you. You smile at him, gentle, and his pupils pin. “Spread your legs for me.”

Lucifer grabs his own knees, and spreads his legs while you refuse to let him lose eye contact. His red flush is delicious, and so is his twitching cock, clearly enjoying this.

You grab more lube from the nightstand and quickly reapply before holding one of his legs to your chest and slipping back inside. He groans and rocks his hips forward, savoring the feeling.

You slowly snap your hips forward, reaching deep inside him, you keep repositioning until he gasps and then you hold there. Little thrusts of your hips grinding against his ass. He gasps low, moaning sweetly in his deep voice as sweat trickles down his temple.

“Kiss me-” he croaks, reaching for you. You melt into him and grind against him as his hands roam your body. He doesn’t realize he’s whimpering and shuddering, or if he does he doesn’t care.

You continue like this for a while, enjoying his gasping deep moans in your ear, his lips and teeth on your neck. Finally, at your mercy, you gently trace your fingers over the head of his cock. The noise he makes is agonizing, and you have half a mind to continue neglecting him. But he has your heart as you keep up that gentle, light contact, and he doesn’t ask for more. His head is spinning, filled with thoughts of you, you, just you.

You speed up your hand as your hips get tired and he grips your back, rocking into you. Finally you feel him tense, feel his blunt nails dig into your back.

“There you go, my pretty bird,”

He gasps, light and beautiful, shuddering as he comes, keening as each slow, deep thrust of your hips milks another dribble of cum out of him.

You kiss again and again, covered in sweat, cum, and specks of blood, ignoring the passage of time.

Darkness blankets your bedroom, barely lit in deep navy shadow. Your fingernails fall up and down rhythmically over the rope burn on Lucifer’s back.

“I heard you were approached last week.” He murmurs.

“At the Banquet…? Oh, did Asmo say something?”

Lucifer chuckles, "He said something akin to "Everyone here is itching for their chance, don't let them out of your sight."

You feign exasperation. "And what did you do, you let me out of your sight. Now I'm in bed with a demon."

Lucifer snorts, "The very same demon you propositioned in a coat closet."

"What can I say? I know who I want," you kiss his temple.

Lucifer leans into you further, draped across your body. "Don't you have plans early tomorrow morning?"

“You yawn again, “Solomon said he has something important to talk to me about. What exactly, I’m not sure… he can wait until I've had breakfast.”

“That sorcerer…”

“He wants you so bad,” you chuckle, “I mean, it isn’t up to me, but I enjoy acting as if it is.”

“Rest assured,” he kisses your shoulder, “he’ll never have me, not like you do.”

Your smile is gentle. “I love you, Luci.”

“And I you.”

Lucifer closes his eyes and relaxes his sore body, satisfied and calm. He resolves to make you breakfast in the morning before seeing you off to Solomon.

Truly, he thinks, there's nothing he can’t face as long as you’re there when he wakes.

#lucifer obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me smut #sub lucifer #dom mc #my writing #wearyeyebrow #teeny tiny bit of nightbringer angst at the end #dom!reader #sub!lucifer #sub obey me

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tadpolesonalgae · 9 months

Text

Cassian x reader: Collar and Muzzle[*]

A/N: inspired by a Midnight Thought™️ so here we go :)

Summary: Under that rough, resilient exterior of his, beneath the grins and the jokes and teasing, those comments really get to him. Maybe he needs to figure away to dull the sting—take the bite out of it.

Warnings: smut, kind of pet play I guess?, use of collars, leads, muzzles, femdom, degradation, not at all proofread, 7.4K words

“Spit it out,” you snap.

You get antsy when people dodge around a point.

“You know a lot about…degradation,” he finally poses. You look up from your book—you’ve been trying to read it for the past half hour but he’s seemingly been working up the courage to begin this conversation.

You shrug, setting the book down, “I suppose I’m familiar with it.”

He steels his spine. He knows you’ll be less likely to oblige him if he pisses you off first thing in the morning. “I’d like to ask you for a favour.”

You lower the magnifying glasses from your nose—the damned text is so small. “Illyrians getting on your nerves?” You muse, propping your cheek on your hand as you peer at him. “Want some help laying into them?”

The General stands from his chair, then looks back at it, wondering if he should have remained seated so he won’t fidget. He shows too much, wears his heart on his sleeve. He’s easy to read, if you know where to look—which you do.

“No, actually. I thought you might—…” he pauses, rethinking his words. “Azriel mentioned that…” he seems to be searching for a way to phrase it. “What did Azriel say?” You ask mildly, watching him from your relaxed position.

There’s the faintest kiss of colour to his cheekbones, and he’s having a hard time keeping eye contact. “I don’t know how to approach this right,” he admits, gaze finally flicking to yours. He looks almost apologetic. You suppress a smile, even if your lips twitch at their edges.

“Sit down, and talk to me properly. Stop tripping yourself up with imagined issues,” you drawl, gesturing for him to take his seat. He nods, then repeats the action seemingly to himself, settling down in the chair, shuffling to get comfortable. “Now, what did Azriel say about me this time?”

Your eyes mark the roll of his throat intently.

“We were talking,” he begins, hesitantly.

“About what?” You ask, enjoying the way his shoulders tense. It’s sweet when he gets uncomfortable. “Just…things,” he supplies, “male things…” then winces when he realises male things sounds like a euphemism. He shakes it off, returning to the conversation, “he mentioned you had a reputation, of sorts, with…” he coughs into his hand, a nervous tick he hasn’t thought to mask, “well, being in the bedroom.”

If the male had been paying attention, he would have noticed the stiffness that had overcome your body. You shift slightly, and make a note to bring this up with the Shadowsinger later. Find out what, exactly, he’d said to Cassian. “We’re familiar with one another in that area,” you say, keeping your tone as controlled as possible.

“Right.” Cassian nods again, eyes finally settling on you as he sends you a nervous look. Why is he so jittery?

A silence falls, stretching between the two of you and his hands clench into fists on the arms of the chair. You keep his attention, staring at him coolly.

“I want to try it,” he blurts, pressing his lips together.

Ah. That’s why Azriel had mentioned you. Your heart rate picks up. You’d have to get him something nice in return for this opening he’s gifted you with. Being the Spymaster, he’d quite easily picked up on your fondness for the General. You’d been after him for a while now, but you weren’t the type to pursue unless you knew it was reciprocated—the Warlord had given no such indication. Yet here he is. Surely it counts for something.

Maybe you need to be gentler with him?

You sit up straighter, trying to let him understand you’re hearing him out—that it’s fine for him to talk to you. It’s what you want, after all.

“What’s sparked this sudden interest, Cassian? I was under the impression you were content with your own bedroom activities.” You conceal your wince at your relaxed tone that came out sounding short, and dry. Not what you had hoped to say, but it’s better than some of the other things you’ve accidentally told him.

He looks at you sincerely now, slight vulnerability in his hazel eyes. “I want to take its power away,” he says solemnly. “Being called a dog. I don’t want it to have power over me.”

“So…you would like someone to degrade you, because…?” You’re struggling to see his thought process. He looks down at his lap, mentally reciting his words before he looks back at you, “I want to change my association with it. Azriel figured if I give it another meaning—one that pleases me—it’ll become easier.”

Your hand settles over your lips, rubbing thoughtfully as you consider it, before you nod. “I think I can find someone for you, Cass. It’s been a while since I’ve run in those circles but I’m sure I can pull someone up.” You should take this opportunity to talk more with him. Find out what he’s been doing. At least ask for something in return, since that wouldn’t be too unbelievable. Maybe you can wrangle a dinner out of him. Yeah. Insist he takes you out to dinner, then you can have a night together, chatting, feel him out a little more. Just you and him.

“I was hoping you’d be willing to show me, actually.”

You forget how to breathe, blinking at him as your lips part, a soft puff of air exhaling from you in surprise. He wants…you. He wants you…to show him. He wants you, to…

“You want me to take you to my bedroom?” You ask slightly hoarsely.

“Again, I’m not sure how to approach this. So I thought I’d try and be straightforward with you.” He admits, soft colour blooming high on his cheeks but he holds your gaze.

That’s just like him. Straightforward and honest. Right to the point, just as you like. You can only hope your own flush of warmth isn’t too obvious as you feel something tug on your heartstrings. He’s too endearing for his own good. So baldly charming and sweet.

“Why me?” You ask, regaining your composure. “Decisions like these need to be carefully thought through. You can’t just pick the person most convenient, and as General I would hope you know that.” You manage, smoothly. “I need it to be someone I trust,” he explains, voice thick with emotion, “I’m sure there are some lovely females out there, who might indeed work better. But I trust you.” He declares. “Again, it’s only a request. And I hope I’m not making you uncomfortable with being so blunt.”

You feel that giddy sensation in your chest, the kind that tends to surface when he’s around. You resist the urge to soothe the feeling.

“I take it you understand the sexual nature of the favour you’re asking me for,” you say, softly, watching him over the rim of your glasses.

He swallows, heat crawling up the back of his neck at the look you give him. You look so fucking sexy whenever you do that. Give him that dismissive stare, as if you don’t care what happens to him. How many times has he imagined you giving him that precise expression whenever he fists his cock, how you might run your eyes over him when he’s finished, displeased with his mess.

The General nods his head in confirmation. You hadn’t immediately shot him down like he’d thought you would. Maybe Az was right—you aren’t as cold as you appear. Of course he would know that, he thinks bitterly. He doesn’t care to entertain the idea of how his brother knew about your bedroom tendencies. If the two of you had ever—

“Very well,” you say sharply, breaking him from his train of thought. You reach for your book, indicating the conversation is coming to a close. “Come to my chambers at ten O’clock,” you order. When he moves to open his mouth, you snap in before him, “it doesn’t matter what you wear, as long as it’s easily removable.”

So you’re really doing this, then. He doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or panicked. He’s finally going to have alone time with you—but he’s going to have alone time with you. He hopes he doesn’t mess anything up. Maybe he should just swallow his pride and ask Az for a little more about you. So he can prepare—he doesn’t want to disappoint.

He’s got one clear shot at you. And it’s tonight.

————

“I seem to be rather popular today. You’re the second person to visit me in ten minutes.”

You’ve learned not to be surprised when he detects you. Even though you know you didn’t make a sound, and his shadows were no where in sight. “What did you say to him?”

“Just now, or what did I say to prompt him to make a move?” Azriel asks, still not looking up from his reports. You grit your teeth at the information he’s dangling before you, just waiting for you to pounce on it so he can spring his trap. “Both,” you growl, walking up to his side to get his attention.

He sighs, then reaches for another report, comparing it against the first, before setting it down and scribbling something in a diary which promptly vanishes after use. “I’m not in the mood for games, Shadowsinger.” His lips twitch as he reluctantly sets the papers down, turning to face you, your arms crossed over your body as you level him with a icy stare.

“I merely set the two of you in motion. You’ve been dancing around each another for a while now. I figured a friendly push in the right direction might set you on the path to collide.” He answers, his posture relaxed; casual.

Damned bastard.

“Keep your nose out of my business, Az. How would you like me meddling in your own affairs?”

His expression remains neutral, mouth set in a bland line but amusement makes merry in his eyes. So similar to Cassian’s. You grit your teeth at the smug look, as if saying you wouldn’t be able to if you tried. He keeps his lovers entirely to himself, tucked away in his belt. “You’re Spymaster. Not matchmaker. Stick to the role you know, Az.”

He raises a single, taunting brow that has red edging your vision. Does he understand how important this is to you? That tonight goes well?

“Why not both? You know how I like to switch from time to time.” Your brow narrows at his tone. It’s lilting…almost as if designed to allure. To seduce. He hums to himself, a sound deep in his throat. “Yes. You know quite well indeed.”

“What are you playing at?” You ask, voice deceptively soft. The tell to your growing ire.

He pushes off from his chair in one elegant movement, hands settling on the desk either side of you as he cages you in. “Playing dumb, angel?” His eyes glint with amusement and mischief, wariness flooding your body. He leans down, his breath brushing over your neck as his silky hair tickles your cheek. “I’m putting on a show for our guest,” he whispers, so softly only you can hear.

And not the male just the other side of the Shadowsinger’s office door.

Your eyes widen as you whip your gaze to his, just as the presence you’ve finally noticed disappears along the corridor. No sooner that the General leaves, Azriel pulls away from you, settling back into his seat, returning to his reports as if nothing had happened.

“If anything will get him to act,” the Spymaster begins, still paying you no mind, “it’s that jealous streak of his. Always was his downfall during the snowball matches.”

Your hands clench into fists at your side. “You’re in deep shit, Shadowsinger.” You growl as you move toward the door, “deep. Shit.”

Azriel has the audacity to huff a low laugh as you slam to door shut, so hard the hinges rattle.

————

He knocks at ten. On the dot.

He had no idea his own brother was trying to covet you. And it indeed sounded as though you’d had relations in the past. Whether those relations still held strong… He doesn’t have the time to consider as your door cracks open, and you peer out.

He suddenly feels ridiculous. Acting as if you’re his when he hasn’t even had the opportunity to take you out for dinner. He doesn’t deserve to be jealous over you. You appreciate straightforwardness. Maybe he should just ask? Get it out of the way. Or would that be inappropriate?

You save him the trouble of the drawn out debate that would have surely continued as you open the door wider, stepping aside to let him in. “Ah, the eavesdropper.” He stiffens under your assessing gaze, levelling him with a cold look that tells him you did not appreciate his invasion of your privacy. Even if you hadn’t even properly closed the door, so really it was completely reasonable that he could have just…overheard.

“I’m not late, am I?” He says instead, choosing to sidestep you for now as he enters your room. And maybe takes the chance to inhale softly, taking in your feminine scent. Tantalisingly mouth-watering.

The door closes softly behind him, snicking shut as the lock clicks. You’re dressed in a thin, cream night robe, concealing the gown beneath. Sharp heels adorn your feet, the point having enough of an edge you could probably take someone’s eye out with a well-aimed kick. For some reason, his pulse spikes.

He takes in your room with a sweep of his eyes, attempting to remain calm, and collected. You don’t seem to appreciate chaos, or any of his arsenal of charms if he’s honest. He wonders if maybe you’re only doing this as a favour—nothing more.

“If you’re thinking you can come in here with an attitude like that, then I’m afraid you’re sorely mistaken,” you say bluntly, running your eyes over him. “I’m not in the habit of tying down loose canons, Cassian. Either you be good and obey, or you can take the door. Your choice.”

He takes you in, sizing you up. He knew you were cold—icy, even—but this is different somehow. Maybe you’ve been holding back on him all this time.

So he plants his feet on the floor, dipping his head ever so slightly.

Your displeased expression doesn’t budge, keeping on a mask of vague neutrality. “Better,” you say, striding past him as you move to the bed. You turn in time to see the wariness in his eyes, the rigidity of his figure as he takes in the items you’ve laid out for him. But for his troubles, he’s rewarded with the slight twitch of your lips. You seem to be satisfied with his reaction, to a degree.

He clears his throat, “what are those?” You gesture for him to come forward, and he follows willingly, padding across your wooden flooring. “I thought we could start with these.” He comes to a stop at your side, assessing what you’ve chosen.

“Cassian,” you say, drawing his attention. “It’s important you remember you can reject any of this. I do anything you don’t like, and you tell me so. This is supposed to be helpful, not worsen how you feel.” When his eyes flick back to the bed, you add a touch softer, “that includes vetoing any of these.”

He swallows, but nods in confirmation.

The warmth disappears from your tone. “Answer me.”

Hazel latches onto you, tongue darting out to wet his lips, “I understand.”

Your brow narrows, “ma’am.”

Arousal slides down his spine at your demanding tone. “I understand, ma’am.” He could swear the air shifts. Becomes sweeter, somehow. “You’re going to be good and obedient for me?” You arch a brow as you take him in, the powerful muscles, the silky black hair, the two large wings at his back—you hope he’ll one day let you touch them.

It’s your arousal, he realises. He can smell your arousal.

“Yes, ma’am,” he answers, a little hoarsely.

The edges of your mouth quirk, heat dancing in your eyes but you turn toward the bed. He’d assumed there would be a build up before you reached for any of the three items. He’d assumed he’d have time to prepare. But you take the black, leather collar in your hands and step toward him.

It takes a surprising amount of will not to back away from the object you’re holding, but he stands strong. Even as you enter his space, pushing up onto your toes as your arms slide over his shoulders. All he can look at is the red of your lips, the smoothness of your skin, the sweep of your lashes. Mostly your mouth.

The collar clicks into place, and you begin tightening it until you can only fit two fingers beneath the seam. “How are you feeling?” You ask, and it takes him a while to respond. “Fine,” he manages, roughly, knowing well enough you’ll be able to scent his own arousal. He hopes it pleases you.

You tug at the leather, dragging it back against his throat and he chokes with surprise. “Ma’am.” Heat swirls down his spine and he has to grapple with his instincts to fight back. To spin you around and pin you to the bed when you’re so clearly threatening him. But instead he manages a nod, “fine, ma’am,” he corrects.

You release the collar, stepping back from him. His chest feels cool.

“Remove your shirt. Slowly.” You settle elegantly on the bed, watching him intently.

Relief spills within him. That’s something he knows how to do.

Following your orders, his fingers find the buttons of his shirt, slowly—teasingly—popping them out, then tugging the slats at the back free of his wings. He’s surprised by the hunger in your eyes. Hunger that’s directed at him. So intense he feels his mouth dry. Even for him, it’s an effort not to shy away.

When his shirt falls to the floor, your gaze roams over him, “good.”

He suppresses a shiver at the thickness of your voice, as if you’re having to hold yourself back from pouncing on him. It’s exhilarating, to be wanted in this way. As if the roles have been reversed.

“Come.”

He follows compliantly, moving until he’s before you. You reach for the leash now.

“Sit.”

He swallows down the heat that’s wanting to rush to his cheeks. But he asked you to do this for him, and want aside, he trusts his brother to know you. Apparently quite well. So if he says you might be able to offer some kind of help, he’ll trust you. More than he already does, if that’s possible.

Hesitantly, he lowers himself to a kneel, so he’s within reaching distance of you.

Your attention returns to him, leash in hand, “good boy.” His throat rolls at the praise, cock stiffening with arousal as you gracefully cross your legs, allowing him a glimpse of the white lace beneath your night robe. He curses mentally, replaying the short peek he’d been offered.

He nearly loses his mind when your legs open again, but this time one extends toward him as you lift his chin with the tip of your foot. “Attention on me, Cassian.” Even the way you say his name is a gods-damned turn on.

You shift on the bed, allowing him a longer peep between your thighs as you drag your foot down over his chest, until the sharp point of your heel drags over the hard shape of his arousal, making him hiss softly. “Like that?” You drawl, lowering the base of your foot as you press against him, giving him that sinful pressure as his hips back lightly.

“You look lovely on your knees, Cassian,” you comment, leaning close as you attach the leash to his collar, eyes flicking up to his, holding his heated gaze with your own for a moment longer than necessary.

“You’d look better, Angel.” He doesn’t know where the intent comes from, but he’s overcome with the need to know what was going on between you and his brother in his study. Though maybe he could have chosen a different time to bait you. Like when you don’t have your foot pressed over that incredibly sensitive part of him. You could inflict a lot of pain with the slightest of movements. Though he supposes that’s why you’ve positioned him as he is. At your mercy.

Surprisingly, the amusement remains in your eyes. “Careful, mutt. I had the sense you didn’t like that third item,” you drawl softly, and he knows you’re talking about the muzzle. “As I said before, if you’re going to refuse to play by my rules, you can walk out that door.”

He bites his tongue. He wants—needs to know what was going on between you and Az. What he’d whispered to you when he’d pushed you against his desk.

“As for your comment, I’m surprised you so readily admit to eavesdropping on us. Something grating at you?” There’s no way you don’t know. Not with the way you asked, not with that mocking lilt to your voice.

“Simply curious, ma’am.” He manages to keep his voice surprisingly even. You raise a brow, “he mentioned you had a jealous streak.” He hissed when you drag your heel over the ridge of his cock, making him twitch in anticipation.

But you lean forward, attaching the leash to his collar. Then your free foot presses against his shoulder, and you tug, sharply. He hisses at the pressure of the jerk, keeping his instinct in check. How easy would it be to just grab your ankles and spread you apart?

You know you’re wet. There’s no way you aren’t with the way he’s looking at you. As if he’s imagining every position he could be rutting into you, cock nestled deep inside of you. It’s enough to have your mouth parched. You can’t help yourself.

“What are you thinking about, pet?”

“I’m thinking about how good I could make you feel, ma’am.” As usual, his answer is full of unfaltering truth. Blatant, undeniable. You know he marks the spike in your temperature.

You jerk on his lead in reprimand for the bold statement. “You think it’s appropriate to be having those kind of thoughts about me, mutt?” You tug on his leash again, dragging him closer so your leg can hook over his broad shoulder. You can practically see the stillness overcome him, as your scent hits him. His eyes dart between your legs—he has an unobscured view, and he’s not wasting a second of it, eyes glued to the damp lace.

You tilt your head, allowing the tie of your night robe to come loose, revealing the sheer, matching gown beneath. “See something you like, pet?” He growls in response, and you hook your other leg over his shoulder, so he’s between your thighs. “I might be calling you an animal, but I should hope you’re still capable of an intellectual response.” You make a show of running your eyes over him, as if doubting your evaluation. “Using words, at least,” you amend.

“Yes, ma’am.” The words are guttural. His pupils fully dilated as they don’t budge from your concealed heat. You wonder what would happen if you told him to crawl for it. You get the strangest feeling he would, and it’s exhilarating. Maybe you can indulge yourself a little.

Humming, you slide your hand to his cheek, raising his jaw so he’s forced to look at you. “What is it you like the look of, hm? Maybe I’ll lay you have some.”

You’re being cruel. You know that. But you can’t resist brushing your calves against the tendon in his wings, getting off on how they shudder, but don’t tuck away. As if he wants you to touch him there. You oblige happily, running the pad of your heel up the great wing, skating over muscle and cartilage, and sensitive, sensitive skin.

He trembles beneath your touch, breathing shallowing. “You,” he groans. “I want some of you.”

His head spins lightly as you unhook yourself from his shoulders, sliding down off the mattress into his lap. “Disobey once more, pet,” you whisper over his lips, free hand now gripping his jaw, “and I’ll slap that muzzle on you faster than you can protest.” His hips roll beneath you, needing to feel more of your soft heat against him.

“Understand, bitch boy?” His pupils dilate at the title, nostrils flaring as he gets high on your scent. “Yes, ma’am,” he murmurs, wanting so desperately to put his hands on you, feel the skin of your waist, how it will give a little beneath the pads of his fingers. “Good boy, Cassian.”

He shudders, the sound of his name on your lips making him twitch beneath you. “Undo them.” He’s not sure he heard you correctly.

You grip his jaw tighter, nails biting into the muscle of his jaw. It’s enough to set his shaky hands moving, fumbling with the strings.

You wonder if he can hear how loud your heart is pounding, if he can tell how desperately you need him. His scent is all around you, and you feel like you might go crazy. You need more. You need him inside of you, to have him tearing at your clothes, to have him snarling and biting for a chance to sink his teeth into you.

“That’s better,” you murmur over his mouth when he’s out. It’s an effort to keep from drooling at the sight of him. “Show me how you touch yourself, Cassian.”

His breath hitches as you shift on his lap, breasts grazing his chest as you lift to make room for his hand. Your eyes are piercing into him, as if you can read every despicable thought he’s ever had of you. And he knows you can see the vulnerability in his gaze as he wraps his hand around himself, he can’t hide from you.

Your eyes flicker as he begins stroking himself, slow, languid touches. Hard, and rough. As if he likes that edge of pain. One arms snakes over both his shoulders, the other hand cupping his jaw to keep him looking at you. “That’s a good dog,” you murmur, soothingly, and he allows the praise to wash over him. To sink into the marrow of his bones.

He looks at you quietly, a request in his eyes. Amusement dances in your gaze as you ignore it, but bring him closer. “You want a taste, mutt?” His attention narrows on your mouth, how your tongue flicks out to wet your lips. He’s panting softly, heat radiating from his body, and he groans as you roll your hips, pressing your abdomen against him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he breathes.

You lower yourself to him, “gentle, Cassian.”

He follows compliantly, tugging softly on your lower lip, even if all he wants is to bite, and snap, and devour. He’s practically trembling with the effort of holding back.

He jolts, hissing when your hand encases the damp head of his cock, teeth sinking into your lip.

You tug sharply at the back of his collar, yanking him back so he can see the blood beading. His eyes widen marginally, “I’m sorry,” he breathes. It comes out quietly, hardly more than a whisper. But your tongue flicks over the puncture wound, and already it’s sealed.

He didn’t mean to hurt you. Oh fuck.

Fuck.

Your lips press to his, firmly, hand still resting over his own as you pump him roughly. You moan softly into the kiss before pulling away. “Even purebreds would be put down for biting their master,” you drawl.

Cassian watches you silently, tensely.

“Bad dog,” you murmur, raising up onto your knees.

His head goes quiet as you raise your night gown, allowing him a glance of your wet heat as you pull the lace to the side. “I need you to be good, or I can’t give me to you, Cassian.” He growls, a sound deep in his chest, full of ravenous hunger. You tilt his chin, forcing him upright as you stare down at him. “You want me, don’t you?”

His pupils dilate further, lips parting slightly as he inhales your scent. “Want to sink into me, hm? You’ve got to be a good boy for that. Earn your rewards. Because that’s what I am to you, mutt. A reward.”

Cassian’s panting heavily, a light sheen over his skin as his temperature spikes, your thumb occasionally swiping beneath his tip, the up over his slit. Just as tight as he likes it. But he wants to be inside of you. In some way, anyway. Between your legs or in your mouth. Dear gods, he needs to feel the wet heat of you in some way.

“Isn’t that right, hell-hound?”

Cassian growls, so close to that edge. The soft, firmness of your hand. Perfectly showcasing yourself. The physical softness of your body, contrasted with the sharp talons that lie just beneath your surface. He’d gladly allow you to sink them into him.

Your brow narrows in distaste, before you’re pulling your hand away from him, raising fully onto your knees as you press yourself flush against his front, smushing yourself against the hard contours of his powerful body.

A sound between a snarl and a moan tears from his throat as you run your fingers down the base of his wings. Your back arches at the sound, and his head falls forward, burying himself in your breasts. You hum, satisfied with his reaction as you flush with feminine pleasure. Maybe you press against him a little tighter, allowing him more.

He can feel that wave cresting, reaching its peak, towering high as it prepares to sweep him away. Mind lost in the swirling euphoria you’ve worked him to.

A wave of magic bats his hand away, and suddenly he feels cold.

He hardly has time to comprehend that you’ve removed yourself from him, as his vision clears slightly, though it’s swaying. Enough for him to see you settling upon your bed, leaning back, spreading your legs, enabling him a perfectly erotic view as your gown hikes up your thighs. You kick off the white lace, and all he can seem to focus on is your gleaming, hot, wet, heat. So ready for him, so ready for his fingers to pump and curl, his tongue to lap and flick, for him to slam his cock into you, bury himself so deep he’ll be more that six feet under.

“Have a taste, Cassian.”

An animal snarl rips from him as he forgets his own pleasure, fingers biting into your thighs, surely bruising as he shoves between your pretty legs, needing to finally set his mouth on you—

Your fingers flick toward him and you moan, the muzzle snapping over his mouth and nose, locking at the back of his head just before he came into contact with you, the mechanism rubbing against your heat instead of his tongue. His eyes go wide. You’ve completely knocked him off his feet on this new battlefield, legs wrapping over his broad shoulders, sliding between the two great wings at his back as you lock him in place.

Magic snares his wrists, tying them tight behind him as he’s suddenly completely at your mercy.

“I don’t tolerate disobedience, mutt.” You say, coolly. He snarls, struggling but your magic is pressing in on him. You give him a look of mock sympathy, “all you had to do was remember some damned manners, mongrel.” But when pain flickers in his eyes—soul pain—you thread your fingers through his hair. Your expression remains displeased, but your touch is soft; affectionate, brushing down to his cheek, skating around the edge of his muzzle.

“Do you know better now, mutt?” You ask coldly, peering down at the great male you have trapped between your legs. How badly you want that contraption off him, so you can kiss and mouth at him, have him between your legs. “Yes, ma’am,” he grits out, lip curling back.

“I don’t think you have,” you reply nonchalantly. “I think you’re being greedy. I think you’re trying to get into my good books again so you can take advantage of me.” Your hand ducks beneath his chin, raising him a little, but roughly. “A wolf in sheep’s clothing. That’s what you are,” you stare down at him, allowing him to see the heat in your eyes, “a wolf.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His gaze is fierce, starving hunger blazing in the hazel depths.

Your heart kicks up a pace, as your lips twitch.

You lay back, propping yourself up on one forearm as you drag your hand down yourself, settling at the hem of your gown. Then dipping further.

Cassian let’s put a sound that’s a mix of a groan and a whimper, his eyes glued to your cunt as your fingers dip between your legs. “Like the view?” You whisper, middle and fifth finger spreading yourself, slippery with arousal. “Don’t you just want to set your mouth on her, huh? Drag your tongue over me? Until you drown in her release?” He struggles again and you tut, summoning his leash to be beside you, using your magic to tug him closer, the muzzle pressing flush against your heat.

You roll your hips over it, and you swear Cassian’s eyes nearly roll to the back of his skull with arousal. You laugh softly, sultrily. “If you try hard enough, you might be able to lick it up.” He’s so nearly lost his mind. You’ve worked him up into a rage of lust, his vision unclear as he presses forward, as if he might be able to get closer.

You moan softly at the pressure, how his head shifts and the wide rubbery bars roll against your clit. You bite your lip as you kick off your heels, dragging your feet up his back as you press him into you, raising your hips. Then you drag one foot higher, brushing it against your wings and his moans. He moans so deeply, so desperately, the sound so raw you aren’t sure you can keep teasing him like this. Not with your own orgasm now on the line.

But instead of allowing him off the lead, you drag him back a little, forcing him to watch as you rub the pad of your middle finger over the top of your clit. Once…twice…then you dip down, coating your two middle-most digits in slick, and you sink them into your heat. Your back arches lightly and he growls with the need for it to be his fingers instead. It needs to be him inside of you.

You force his gaze to yourself, lead tugging on him to drag his attention from your slick heat. “You want to be inside her, don’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Guttural. Raspy. Husky.

“Too bad I don’t let mangy mutts in my bed.” You can smell his arousal. That deep, masculine scent that only serves to make you wetter and wetter. His arousal is appetising.

“No,” you growl, “I want something better. Something stronger. Something to make my eyes blind and my senses weep. Something to take me so hard I scream. Something so deep, and raw, that I have nothing left.”

The muzzle vanishes and he dives forward but the lead keeps balancing his force in the opposite direction. Your fingers pull from your heat, threads of silvery slick connecting them before you grip his jaw.

It’s hell for him. Hell and heaven all wrapped in one. You’re so near, so utterly around him, filling every sense, and your cunt is right before him, your slick coating your fingers and he just needs one taste one taste and then he’ll be okay just one taste—

“Can you be that something for me?”

“Yes,” he sobs. “Yes, ma’am.”

Your lips hitch into a small grin, and your magic releases him. “Good boy, Cassian.”

He surges forward, tongue dragging up your centre, flicking and sucking and licking as he tastes and tastes and you fill him up you encompass him while and it’s not enough it’s not enough—

The breath is snatch from his lungs as he’s unleashed upon you. He’s mad. Raging with masculine delight as he devours his female. His female. His.

He goes between your legs, but needs more, pulling away to shove your gown away from your skin, revealing your breasts—nearly tearing the fabric in the process. His teeth nip and bite, tongue flicking, hands gripping you. And then he’s kissing you, swallowing your flavour, both hands roaming all over you: groping your chest, thumbing your nipples—pinching them. He drags his hands down your front, wings flaring in an inherent display of dominance, and he knock something over but neither of you care. His mouth opens over your throat, teeth biting into you as his arms snake around your back, feeling the soft, warm press of your body against his own.

Moans spill from your lips as you allow your head to fall back, thighs parting invitingly, legs wrapping around his hips as you drag him closer. He grinds against you, getting himself covered in your slick before pressing the tip to your entrance. And pushes in. Even in the midst of his hunger he’s careful, going in slowly, a few inches at a time until he’s as far in as he can fit and you don’t exaggerate the moan he pulls from you.

You’re gasping, and he’s panting deeply, heavily. And he looks at you as he draws his hips back, then slams in. You melt in his arms, liquidate until it’s only him keeping your together. He’s pounding into you, going to the hilt every time, filling you with sunlight, and heat, and all the other lovely things that make you’re heart thunder with vivacious life.

“Cassian…!” You gasp, his cock touching that spot within you. At your keen, he shoves you further up the bed, hand dropping to your ass as he orders you to raise your hips. You do, and practically sob when he aims for that spot, rubbing it, abusing it over and over as his thumb finds you clit. He groans in response, twitching inside of you.

“I—…” he growls as you clamp down on him, arms snaking around his shoulders, fingers touching his wings as you bring his mouth to yours. You understood him well enough. He’s about to collapse, spill into you with the force he’s promised to you.

And he does, your own release following as thick, hot liquid shoots into you, spurting from him in rivulets. Your lips part in a gasp, and he snarls when your hands graze his wings, the overstimulation already too much.

You pant heavily, basking in the aftermath of his pleasure. Your own pleasure, too. You’re not sure if you were fully conscious for the entirety of your release, with how hard he forced you to come.

He’s still inside of you, and you’ll be happy if he never leaves. Remains planted deep within your heat. He’s breathing erratically still, and his eyes flick to your mouth, as if he wants to—

The leash goes taut, and his mouth is hauled to yours as you open for him, allowing him past that line. He understands, too, moving softer, more tentatively as his tongue flicks at your roof, hands lightly gripping your waist to keep you against him.

When you finally pull apart, you’re not sure you’ll be able to hold yourself together. You don’t want to confess your feelings to him while experiencing the high of your orgasm. Things like that need to be thought through.

“That was…good.” He breathes, and you manage to narrow your brows at him—somehow. “It was better than good, and you know it.” The collar and lead vanish, freeing him, but he doesn’t try to move away. Instead he kisses you again, at the slow, steady pace. As if he’s taking his time feeling you out.

But he pulls away, swallowing, “about you and Azriel—”

You grimace, “I really do not want to hear his name while you’re still inside me, Cass.” He winces and moves to pull out. You growl softly, tightening your grip on his hips, keeping him nice and warm. “So that means, don’t talk about him.”

He watches you, wariness creeping into his eyes.

Oh. Right.

He saw you in his study.

You sigh. “Your brother’s a dick. You know that?” Cassian’s own brow narrows in confusion. “He knew you were out there,” you state plainly. “You heard what he said, about getting us to collide.”

His lips part silently as he connects the dots. “Az was the one who suggested I talk to you,” he says, softly. “He knew I—”

Heat flushes your cheeks, heart-rate spiking. You hand grips his silky black hair, tugging slightly. “Finish that sentence.” He shifts inside of you and you suck in a breath.

He presses closer to you, front flushing tight against you, hips firmly between yours as he noses at your neck: the various bite marks. He inhales softly, as if getting his courage from you before pulling back.

“He knows I want you. That I…still…want you. Badly.”

Holy Mother.

Your heart’s practically in your throat as you nod in agreement. “He knew about me, too.” His eyes flick to yours, surprised. It gives you the push you need. “I’ve been after you for a while. I figured you weren’t interested.”

Incredulity flashes in his gaze. “How could I not want you?” He breathes, softly. His arms tighten around you, pressing deeper inside of you, heat flushing your skin. But you purse your lips, attempting to regain your composure, “you’ve never shown any intent before.”

“How was I supposed to? You were always so…distant. I thought that was your way of saying you weren’t looking for anything like that. That you’d just find it annoying to have a male panting after you.” He admits, quietly.

“I see.” You watch him silently, his lips twitching.

“Is that you being affectionate?” You swallow, looking away. “I sometimes forget to shift my expression. That’s my fault, I suppose. I didn’t want you to see how much of a mess I am.” His brow knots, hand cupping your cheek, “you’re not a mess. Not a bad one, at least.”

“I don’t like being out of control, Cassian. What you do to me, how you make me feel…I don’t like it. It’s too much. I don’t know how to manage all of it.”

“And that’s why you always seemed so cold,” he finishes.

“I didn’t mean to come off as harsh. I was supposed to appear put together. Steady, so you’d look at me and think, she knows what’s she’s doing. She has a purpose.” You peer up at him, and he sees that vulnerability in your eyes.

“I wanted you to look at me and see someone impressive. I wanted you to think I was strong, and independent. I don’t want to be a burden to anyone, and the easiest way of accomplishing that is by doing everything myself. I don’t want you to think I’m someone who needs help.” You’re unaccustomed to this sort of intimacy. The dangerous, barbed emotional kind.

“There’s nothing wrong with needing help, though. Hell, I came to you for it.” His thumb strokes you cheek, and your eyelids flutter closed, leaning into him. “I want to help you, where I can. I want to do things to make life easier for you. I don’t want you to go through it on your own.” He brushes his nose over yours, lips grazing your own, your eyes still shut. “I want to be the person you come to when you’re struggling. I want you to want me. To want to…to want to be around me.”

“I do,” you reply. “It’s a near constant need I have no idea what to do with. It’s a pain and I don’t know how to stop it.” Your hands tangle in his hair, his mouth slanting over yours.

“I’m not sure I want to.”

Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020

#Cassian #cassian x reader #cassian smut #cassian x reader smut #Collar and Muzzle #Cassian Acotar #acotar

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cupids-scream-queen · 6 months

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A Little Murderess °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･❀*

❀ female!murderer!reader x poly!ghostface ❀

Part 5 // 2.8k words

-> Part 4

Warnings: stalking, breaking and entering, p in v, actual sex (woo), choking, slight daddy kink, cheating, idk there's SEX in the SLASHER fic it's not gonna be vanilla 😭💀

A/N: No threesomes yet guys, sorry 😔

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Summary: You've just moved to a new town after the death of your little brother and stepfather with your mother. You're not ashamed of what you do to cope with the deaths; especially when you make two new friends who you might have more in common with than you thought...

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“Y/N,” Sidney hissed, tapping her pencil on the desk lightly. “Whatcha doing this weekend?”

“Not much,” You whispered back, looking up from your paper. It was Mrs. Tate’s day off, which meant worksheets upon worksheets and you were getting increasingly bored from it. Sidney was too; she was bugging you nearly the entire time, asking you various questions or pestering you about your weekend plans. You almost wanted her dead. Almost.

“Do you want to sleepover at Tatum’s with me?” She asked, and you shrugged.

“I’d have to ask my mother,” You replied, knowing that you’d just tell her your mother said no. You weren’t really in the mood for Tom Cruise this weekend—you were more interested in something more sinister. That Sidney and Tatum most definitely weren’t going to want any part of.

“Damn, any chance she’d say yes?” Sidney looked at you, almost pleading with her eyes for you to say anything that would convince her that you’d make it. You weren’t sure why she was so clingy, especially to you, of all people—she should be running away from you, not towards you.

“I’m not sure,” You tapped your pencil against your face, watching the substitute teacher read a book about Sherlock. “It depends on her mood.”

“When doesn’t it depend on her mood?” Sidney joked, and you shrugged. It was something that wasn’t quite the truth, but also wasn’t a lie—your mother was relatively passive about your whereabouts in general, but sleepovers were another game entirely: she preferred to keep you at home overnight.

“I honestly can’t answer that,” You admitted, and she looked sympathetically towards you.

“You’ve got a lot in common with Billy,” she mused, and you took a note of that—a piece of information about Billy that you could use against him should he betray you. You hadn’t really gathered anything on Stu; he was more of an open-book, and you could assume what he didn’t want people to know about he simply didn’t talk about. He had money to pay people to forget.

“What?”

“I shouldn’t have said anything, but he’s got it real bad at home. Mom left him and stuff, dad’s a bit of an alcoholic,” Sidney said, and you almost had to strain to hear her voice. You took a mental note of this, though—Mr. Loomis might be key information for blackmail against Billy, should he try anything with you. You were more afraid of Billy than Stu—Billy was quieter, and seemed to ponder over things more than Stu ever did. Billy thought meticulously, Stu acted impulsively. Together, you couldn’t quite imagine what they were capable of.

“My mom’s an alcoholic, but she’s not that bad,” You told her, and you could see her almost loosen her borders around you. Good. She’s trusting you, that’s something you could use to your advantage later.

“Good lord, that sounds awful,” Sidney’s sympathetic nature was something that you were going to try to capitalize on. You didn’t want to kill her, but simply use her. She was a useful alibi, stupid and naive. Trusting people. People like you, who shouldn’t be trusted.

“It’s not that bad once you get used to it,” You tell her, and you could tell she was wondering if she should ask you something. “Why?”

“Maybe you could talk to Billy about it,” She said quietly. “Tell him how to cope. I think it makes him upset, even if he doesn’t let people know.” There it was. Bingo. Permission to hang out with her boyfriend without her, even though you’d do it anyways, you felt like it’d cause less issues if she told you that you could.

“Maybe. I’m not sure if he likes me, he’s kind of quiet around me,” You tell her, and you could practically see the gears in her head turning.

“You could probably give him a call, I’m sure he wouldn’t care. Or you could stop by Stu’s house, he’s usually there,” Sidney told you, and you nodded your head.

“I can try to help him, sure,” You could see the grateful smile she gave you, and you could see that something with Billy’s behavior put a strain on their relationship—which you weren’t even sure was real on Billy’s end. You saw the way he looked at other girls, in ways that he didn’t look at Sidney with, and you knew that he wasn’t thinking of her at night, he had someone else in his thoughts. Be it Stu or somebody else entirely, you knew that Sidney was not the one he had in his heart. If he even had one.

“That’d be great,” Sidney’s hope and trust were placed in you, officially. She was going to trust you, and you wanted to learn everything about Billy through her. The only other person you’d need now on your side was Tatum, but you figured if you went to the sleepover, they’d have to talk about boys eventually. That’s how sleepovers work, right?

“Maybe I will go to Tatum’s,” You mused, and Sidney had an excited gleam to her eye that you hadn’t really seen before.

•❃°•°❀°•°❃•

Ever since you figured out the identity of Ghostface, Billy and Stu hadn’t tried calling you again. You were kind of sad about it—the phone calls were fun, but you guessed they figured out someone else they’d try to murder. You sat on the edge of your bed, and decided to dial the phone number for Billy Loomis, killer extraordinaire. Before you could entirely dial the number, you heard a knock at your window. And then popped the head of Billy Loomis, on a ladder, straight out of a scene from Heathers.

“What in the name of JD—”

“Thought you were schemin’,” Billy said, grinning wildly. “Figured I could help you.”

“Where’s Stu?” You asked, bemused at the fact that Billy’s conjoined twin was missing.

“At home, his folks are home for once,” Billy didn’t look sympathetic for his friend at all, which you chalked up to him being a fucking weirdo. “I came here out of boredom.”

“Not out of admiration for your Knife Girl?” You joked, and you could see a glint in Billy’s eye that you hadn’t seen before.

“Maybe it was out of admiration,” He said, going through your window. He walked closer to you, and you could smell the desperation.

“Oh? And why would you admire the Knife Girl?” He smiled at your question, and got closer. You could see every pore in his face.

“Because you’ll let me do this,” He said, and pressed his lips against yours. You didn’t move at first, your body was stiff as a board. But Billy put his arms on your shoulders, grounding you to reality, allowing you to realize that this was happening, and nearly unprompted. “And you’ll like it.”

You couldn’t respond with words, just with actions. You knew Billy was attractive—and maybe a part of you even found him attractive, but you weren’t going to do anything about it. And maybe he was using you, but you’d use him back, and his body pressed up against yours made you really think of that. You began to melt into the kiss, and Billy moved his hands to your hair, forcing you closer. You could feel the tip of his tongue dance on your lips, and his other arm beginning his way up your shirt, tenderly asking permission.

“What about—”

“Shh, don’t say her name,” Billy said on your lips, and you obliged. You didn’t want to think of her, this was your moment. And Billy was seemingly enjoying it as much as you were. He held you against him, breaking the kiss. You could hear his heartbeat in his chest, and it was practically reaching out to touch you.

“You do this. You make my heart like this. Why?” Billy asked, and he suddenly ripped you from his chest. “Why?” His grip was tight, and you didn’t know what to say. “I—I don’t feel like this. Nobody but you and St—” He grew silent, and you reached out and touched his cheek.

“It’s alright, Billy. You’re fine. You’re human.”

“Am I? Are you?” You didn’t have the answers. You were certain of you being human, despite what you’ve done. And Billy, well, he was human—he was lustful. Prideful. Everything a human was and could be. “What am I even doing here?” He hung his head in shame, and you had no words of comfort.

“I’m not sure, but you’re here for a reason, aren’t you?” You watched as confusion, anger, hatred, embarrassment, everything cross over his face in the span of seconds. He wasn’t making an attempt to hide his emotions, and you were grateful for that.

“Maybe, I don’t know—I came here on an impulse,” He held you, gently. You weren’t sure of what was happening, your head fuzzy and confused. You weren’t thinking clearly, and neither was Billy—something alien to both of you.

“Are you lying to distract me?” You said quietly, and Billy looked at you with puppy dog eyes. You were afraid of what he’d do, but then he crashed his lips into yours.

“Does this feel like I’m lying?” Billy asked, pressing you against your bed, his figure on top of you. He moved your hands above your head, holding them down with one of his hands. He used the other one to hold your face still as he kissed you roughly, his body grinding against yours in a way that you hadn’t felt before. He moved down to your neck, kissing the exposed skin and sucking lightly. He playfully bit you, and you moaned, the sound driving him to continue to bite and suck his way down to your collarbone.

“Can I take this off?” The question made you pause, before you nodded your head. He pulled your shirt off, tugging at the fabric impatiently. He took your bra off in one sweeping motion, leaving you to ponder if he’d done this before, before he expertly took your nipple in his mouth, biting and sucking at the sensitive bud. He then moved his way back up to your mouth, a clash of tongues became the next move, him releasing your hands and burying his arms around you, holding you close to him. You moved, your hands wrapped around his.

“Is it alright if I…” He asked, and you nodded. You wanted him. And he clearly wanted you.

“I’m on birth control,” You whispered, and the glint in his eye let you know that he wouldn’t have cared either way. You giggled as he struggled to take off his shirt, his hips clashing against yours, his skin against yours. He hushed you, playfully wrapping his hand around your throat; a warning.

“You’re gonna be good,” He said, and then started to nip at your neck. “And I’m going to enjoy fucking you, aren’t I?”

“Yes, Billy—”

“Daddy. Call me Daddy.”

“Daddy. Yes Daddy,” You said, your breath hitching. Billy started moving his hands lower down your body, and you could feel his fingers tease your panties. “Oh god, please.”

He laughed, and obliged to your request, his cool hand slipping into your panties. You could feel him circle your clit, his hand large and rough.

“You’re so wet…” You shuddered, and he laughed, staring you directly in your eyes. “I’m going to make you forget about everything.” He put one finger in you, and without warning, he added another. He was furiously fingering you, pleasuring your clit with his thumb. You didn’t have any time or warning before he did this, and he ducked his head to suck on your tit. You moaned, your thighs clenching around his hand, your hands finding their way to his hair, pulling softly.

“Keep quiet and I’ll reward you,” Billy drawled, and you quietly tried to not make any noise, as he was furiously trying to leave hickies on you, in places only he’d see. “You’re gonna be a good little murderess for me, aren’t you?"

You said nothing, your body being stimulated by Billy’s fingers. How your body craved his; how he recipricated everything you felt tenfold. Billy took his fingers out of you, and you whined at the loss. You gyrated your hips against his, and to your dismay, he held them down, preventing you from moving against him.

“Look at me, doll,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I want you to look at me.” You did as you were told, and your breath hitched as you felt the head of Billy’s cock against your folds. “I want you to remember this, babe.” You nodded, your body responding to every touch like you were lit on fire. Billy’s warmth engulfed you, it was everything that you could think about.

Billy kissed you as he slipped himself fully in, and you felt your eyes prick with tears at the sudden intrusion. You tried to get used to the discomfort of his cock, stretching and prodding places you hadn’t even explored yourself. Reaching into every part of you, taking you as his.

“You…you feel so good,” You said breathlessly, your hands tangled in Billy’s hair, his thrusts becoming more and more bearable as you got used to his size.

“You’re so tight, but so wet for me,” He growled, and you nodded. Just for him. Only for him. He was pleased with your body, it was a work of art to him. He started to thrust faster, his rhythm rougher and less capable of placing. His pattern was losing control. He slipped a hand on your clit, and started playing with the slick on it. His mouth was slightly agape as he watched you, enjoying the look of pure pleasure that came across your features.

You felt yourself coming closer, but you weren’t sure if he’d let you come. You needed to, the tension burning up in your lower abdomen. You could feel the warmth starting to take over your body, your head nothing but an empty void devoid of thought; the only thing on your mind was the pleasure Billy was giving you.

“You’re close, aren’t you, love? Your pussy is practically squeezing the cum out of me,” Billy said, his tongue slightly out of his mouth as he concentrated. “I want you to cum after I do, understand?” You nodded, anticipating his release into you.

You wouldn’t have to wait long. He started going faster, his cock practically digging itself deeper and deeper within you. He moaned, his body pressing up against yours as he came, his hot seed spilling everywhere, filling you up. You came only seconds after, your pussy clenching down on his dick, milking him of every last drop. You needed more of him. All of him.

He grinned, and you smiled back, your eyes clouded over, your face nothing but pleasure, and he felt satisfied knowing he did that to you, knowing that you’d think of Ghostface and think of the Best Fuck of your Life.

“Billy?” You asked, and he smiled at you, almost begging you to tell him what he wanted to hear. But you didn’t tell him what you wanted to hear. “We should…we should clean up.”

•❃°•°❀°•°❃•

After thirty minutes of taking time to collect yourselves (and your clothing), you and Billy arrived at a pretty stable plan, all that was needed was Stu.

“He’ll be available to talk probably tomorrow, his folks don’t stay in touch much,” Billy explained, circling the address. “I guess if we do everything right…we should be able to knock Sidney and Tatum off in one go, and have you as the sole survivor of a vicious attack. Pretty grim, ain’t it?”

“I guess. Who’s going to call, who’s going to kill?”

“I’ll call, Stu’ll kill Tatum. Then Stu’s gonna call, and I kill Sid. You’ll just be battered and confused, you could say you went to grab a film or some shit.”

“Not a bad alibi, but what if we’re questioned why we didn’t go together?” You mused, and Billy paused for a moment.

“Tatum and Sid were scared because of the attacks, and you volunteered to go,” He finally said. “And since you’re new, you would’ve barely heard of any of the attacks, so it’d make sense why you went.”

“Works for me, I guess. What do I get out of this?”

“The enjoyment of killing? I dunno, you’re the one who asked to be included on this.” Billy started gathering his things, glancing at the time. “I gotta go, my dad’s gonna kill me if he finds me out past curfew.”

“The Billy Loomis has a curfew?” You raised your eyebrow, tauntingly. He hushed you, and started to inch his way towards your window where his ladder was.

“Yes, I do, doll,” He said, kissing you on the lips. “I’ll call you tonight, yeah?”

“Sure. Will it be you or Ghostface?”

“You’ll find out.”

Enjoy my writing? Please like, reblog, or follow me! The support is super encouraging, especially since I'm going to make this a longer fic and post nearly daily 💕

-> Part 6

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Tags:

@citrusbunnies

#billy loomis x reader #ghostface #ghostface x y/n #billy loomis #ghostface x reader #scream #stu macher #stu matcher x reader #stu matcher x you #slasher community #slasher fucker #slasher smut

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tatumtater · 1 year

Text

summary ; two post-outbreak lovers bite off more than they can chew. you had a secret but couldn't tell him before he left.

pairing ; obviously our beloved joel x reader

warning ; smut, mdni, grief, word count ; 1.9k

tease ; “ lie to me. make it believable.“ “ i love you. “ a/n ; not going to lie, i'm not sure if i like how this turned out. there will be another part but i hope this is a good start. much love.

before you arrived it was just bill and frank, two lovers just trying to survive like everyone else. at first it just started with bill, when the military evacuated civilians- bill was prepared and ready, creating the small town you like to now call “ lovers quarrel. “ it gained it’s name from you after watching the relationship of the two men who had so much love for each other that you thought they might absolutely beat the shit out of each other with their arguments. from bill and frank, too the three of you, to a small minor group, it became a city- a safe haven.

it wasn’t abnormal for joel and tess to stop by the makeshift city. their stay wasn’t usually long but they were frequent. the nights usually consisted of a small dinner and the sounds of laughter as everyone got lost in muse. full stomachs and glass after glass of wine. that’s all it took for you, with glances back and forth from joel and the shy smiles from across the table, he’d find you later that night.

clearing his throat, joel crossed his arms, “ hey. “ you glanced up from the dishes you were cleaning from dinner just hours ago. shaking your hands free of the soap and lukewarm water you turned to him, “ oh hey joel. tess isn’t here if that’s who you’re looking for. “ he shook his head, “ no, not looking for her. was lookin’ for you actually. “ you shot him a look of confusion. you couldn’t think of a reason he’d be looking for you. he sauntered over to you, placing his hands on the countertop on each side of you. he was so close you could smell the alcohol that lingered on his breath. joel sucked a breath in, leaning closer to you, your chest against his and his nose brushing past yours. “ i seen you staring darlin, “ you didn’t realize you were holding your breath until your eyes met his, turning seven shades of red, not knowing he caught you. “ and i’m gonna be honest, i couldn’t help but stare too. “

seconds felt like years. nothing was said between you two. you weren't sure if you should be doing this. weren't sure if you were suppose to be feeling like this. your internal battle must have been sensed by joel because your thoughts were interrupted with his lips joining yours, molding perfectly together. joel's hands made their way to your waist, digging his finger tips into your hips. his sloppy kisses moved from your lips to your jaw and you hummed lightly, " joel- " your hands moved up to his biceps, feeling his flex under your light touch. you've always been attracted to his arms, it proved him a man of honest work. "hmm.." his kisses landed on your neck, nipping at the skin. your hands reached for his waist, pushing your hips into his hungrily. you wanted him. you needed him.

" take it off, " his hands grip the bottom of your shirt. he moves from your neck back to your mouth, the kisses were desperate. no longer fulfilling. you two only separated long enough for your shirt to come over your head. you tug at his shirt, wanting to see what he actually looked like underneath. he leaned back, tugging his shirt up. you took the chance to study him, eyes following the shirt as it came up. he was built like a god and you weren't sure if you'd keep your hands off.

you were in a staring fit when you felt your jeans being tugged down, huffing " these need to go. " joel ripped them down with such force your hips stung a little. his fingers wrapped around your thighs, lifting you up and sitting you on the counter top. you let out a soft moan as his hands trailed up your thighs, brushing over your sweet spot over your panties, " gonna make you feel good. so good.." your hands tangled into his hair as he planted kisses from your shoulder, down your breasts and down your stomach. he pushed aside your panties, running a finger between your folds. you tugged slightly at his hair as that same finger was inserted. you leaned your head back in euphoria. " does that feel good baby? do i make you feel good? " his finger pulled out, pushing another index in. you were surprised by his next move, joel moved down, planting a soft kiss to your clit before beginning to suck on it like it was his last meal. " o-oh god. " he removes his indexes and replace them with his tongue, you're tugging at joel's hand like it's the only thing to hold on too. his hand reaches up, moving your bra over to play with your peaks. " fuck...j-joel.." your thighs are trembling as hes devouring your pussy. his tongue keeps swirling your clit, coaxing you closer to your orgasm. you throw your head back and grind your his against his face.

you can feel it, the bubble building up about to burst. just as your about to reach heaven, he pulls away. he unbuckles his belt quickly, pushing his jeans and his boxers down, exposing himself. you can't help but stare. joel isn't the first man you ever been with but he was the biggest. " get down here and bend over, " he husks and his hand pumps his shaft. you move off the counter, pushing your panties to the floor, and leaning over the counter. you stare out the window hoping that no one sees you now that you remember it's there. joel's hand lays flat on the top part of your back, pushing you flat to where your breasts are now laying on the surface. you can hear him grunt as he moves closer to you, pushing his member between your thighs to your heat. he rubs his cock between your folds, tapping it a few times. making sure you hear the wetness, " all for me. all for me a no one else. " you moan his name loudly as he finally sinks the tip into entrance. he lets out a broke rasp of your name as your walls engulf him. you feel yourself stretch and adjust to him as he slowly sinks in further, " that's it. take it all like the good girl you are. " you eyes widen as he bottoms out, nudging at your cervix. he wastes no tie pulling back out and roughly shoving himself back in, leaving you to cry out. you grip the the counter, finger nails gripping the wood.

" c-can feel you s-squeezin' " he grunts out, " can feel y-you squeezing my c-cock. " joel continues to pound into you, reaching down with one hand to rub your cit with his calloused fingers and the other hand tangled into your hair, gripping it tightly. "j-joel i'm g-gonna c-cum. " you cry out, the overwhelming sensation of him everywhere. you can't take it anymore as you can feel you high flowing through your body as he delivers intense blows to your heat. " yeah, g-gonna cum for me b-baby girl. " you scream out as your orgasm takes over your body, you couldn't hold it anymore. you're trembling under his hold, he still pounds into roughly. you can tell he's nearing his high, his thrusts become sloppy. he pushes one devastatingly last blow into your pussy, painting your walls with his seed.

" god.." you whisper stumbling back into him, your back against his chest. his arms wrap around your chest, sinking his face into your neck and leaving a small kiss.

joel and you made it a usual thing when they visited. he snuck of to see through the nights he stayed, sharing soft spoken words of love and tangles in the sheets. you didn't want to believe it but you knew you were falling for the rough introverted joel miller. not only were you going to tell him you true feelings for him, the love you shared for him. you would kill or be killed for him but that you were giving his gift- a gift from god. a child.

it was an unsual time of arrival for joel to show up with tess, much later than you have ever seen them pass through, dinner was already served and cleaned up. you sat around the small fire in the back yard, the swinging swaying slightly as you turned the page of your romance novel. a small knock against the door frame, caught your attention. looking up for your book there he stood in all his glory. " hello there stranger. " he shoved his hands into the front pockets, chuckling lightly. " hey there darlin. need to talk to you about somethin. " your eyebrow furrowed, looking at him. joel never came to you about needing to talk about anything. joel didn't talk about anything. " i need to talk to you too, but you go first. mine can wait. " you commented, closing your book, moving your legs for him to sit down. his arm stretched out the back on the back of the swing, playing with your finger tips. " no easy way to say this but i'm leaving. going west, i have to find my brother. it's been weeks since he stopped answering. " no. no no no. he couldn't leave you. " y-you're leaving? "

you voice shook, your heart was pounding. this is not what you wanted to hear. tears brimmed your eyes as you sucked in a breath. he was going to leave you here. here alone in overs quarrel to raise a baby. he interrupted your thoughts, moving his hand to clasp your fingers together, " i'll be back. i'll be back for you, i just need to bring him home. " you shook your head, already knowing the near death experiences he told you about prior. " it's dangerous out there joel, how can you tell me that. how can you be sure you're coming back? " your voice began to raise, fighting tears back, you breath in harshly. he can't say he's coming back when he doesn't know how long he'll be out there. " now wait a minute. i always come back. i always come back to you, he's my brother y/n, i have to make sure he's okay. " you knew this, but the hope for tommy was slim. all the way out to wyoming? not a chance. your mind scrambled, looking at anything to keep him here. " you can't leave me. i love you! " you became angry. how dare he make you fall in love and just spring this on you. " i'll be back dammit, you can't change my mind on this. " his voice raising as well, " i'm coming back for you, what else do you want me to fucking say. " "lie to me. make it believable. " joel stood up, running his fingers through his hair, letting out a aggravated sigh, " i love you. "

your heart shattered. all the feelings you developed for him, he did not return. you were around merely for his own pleasure and contempt when he comes to lincoln. you stood up, shoving your book into his chest, glaring through tears, " i hate you. " you stated with anger, surely you could hear the pain behind it. you slammed the door behind you, leaving joel to kick the frame of the porch, letting out an angry huff.

that was the last time you saw joel. or for at least a couple of years. his arrival surprised and scared you shitless as you stared at him across the fence.

" joel? "

#joel miller #joel x y/n #joel x you #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #tlou smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you

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em1e · 1 year

Text

⠀めぐみ // SKATES ⠀ ༝ ༝ megumi fushiguro [ft. brother!gojo] ⠀༝ ༝ 3.6k words ⠀ ⚠︎ unrequited love!itadori + ice skater/hockey player au + mentions of drinking + i've never watched a hockey game in my life ⠀ — since the ripe age of eight, you’d pined for him and since he was seventeen, megumi had eyed you with that puppy-dog gaze, and neither of you seemed to notice it from the other.

“it’s just so hard to talk to them.”

megumi was never one to confide in others about his problems, but itadori somehow brings out a special side of him.

“have you tried . . . you know, actually speaking to them?” the teasing grin doesn’t escape the dark-haired male, earning itadori a swipe from megumi. the former narrowly dodges the attack on the ice, holding his hockey stick out as if it’d help keep some amount of distance between the two. “hey, i’m only trying to help!”

megumi skates closer to itadori despite the stick staying between the two of them, “i’ve already told you why it’s . . . difficult.”

unintentionally, both pairs of eyes settle on a mop of white hair, off to the side of the rink giving instructions to another one of their teammates.

“i get they’re related to coach gojo or whatever, and you have some weird mentor-parental-figure thing going on with him, but is that really enough reason to not talk to them?”

megumi only turns his nose in response, choosing the option of not answering to be the lesser of two evils.

“don’t think i’ve ever seen you get so worked up over somethin’,” itadori muses with a grin, “you must’ve liked ‘em for a real long time.”

“shut up.” megumi’s eyes cut to meet itadori’s, narrowed, “just . . . help me, or whatever.”

“help with what? talking to them? or dealing with whatever you have between coach gojo?”

megumi mulls over the questions for a second before grimacing, “both?”

“alright,” itadori grins, “here’s what you gotta do . . . “

⠀ ༝ ༝

okay, megumi has to hand it to itadori. he isn’t as stupid as some might think. he may be beefy and thick-headed, but he does have some decent ideas. megumi can admit that easily- to himself at least.

one of the many brilliant things he’s conjured up is watching one of your skating competitions.

but he only agrees because it’s convenient! your match just happened to be in the same stadium as theirs, set thirty minutes before they need to pull on their own skates, and gojo might’ve invited him to watch what little he could - in front of itadori, no less, leaving megumi to only be able to say ‘sure!’, lest he face itadori later in the locker rooms with that weird judgmental look he likes to give. so -

the three of them sit in the stands.

decked in their hockey jerseys, waiting for the twirling to start.

itadori grins, watching megumi from the corner of his eye. his friend bounces his leg anxiously, while the announcer introduces the performers; you and a figure skating partner. maki zenin? the name sounds familiar.

gojo mumbles something about how nervous you were for this competition, how you practiced day and night and would come back to your shared apartment with bruises littering your arms and legs.

the two of you skate onto the ice, masks covering your eyes and sparkling outfits adorning your figures; both blue and open chested. it’s cute, how they match, even though itadori has some understanding that it’s only for aesthetics.

you both take a bow, turn to face each other, and then the music starts.

and damn is it impressive.

it starts off measured, in tandem with the music. but slowly, slowly, it picks up until you’re both jumping and spinning and doing all these other incredible moves and everything is synchronized together.

gojo kicks at itadori’s foot, shaking his daze from the incredible show.

“match is gonna start soon, gotta get you guys into your skates.”

itadori blinks once. twice. then nods. he forgot entirely about their own thing. itadori spares a glance to megumi, who’s still completely entranced by your performance. he nudges his friend, who almost recoils at being caught watching so intently.

“what?” he grinds out, trying to hide the blush forming on his cheeks.

“our match.” itadori says dumbly, “gotta go.”

megumi’s eyes flicker from the rink, then back to his friend, before he stands and walks briskly past the two of them without another word. the remaining pairs of eyes meet, before the contact is broken as itadori stands to get his own skates on.

⠀ ༝ ༝

it’s kind of surprising how many bruises one person can acquire in such a short period of time.

getting absolutely bodied time and time again isn’t something they’re unused to, but damn. what do these guys eat for breakfast? they’ve managed to keep the score even the entire game, and if megumi gets slammed into the side panels one more time, he thinks he might fucking snap.

they aren’t quitters, though. the whole team knows that, and they all know that they’ll never hear the end of it from gojo if they lose after being so close to winning.

it’s interesting to watch from the stand, you note yourself; now in sweats and a hoodie instead of the sparkly skating outfit. maki sits beside you silently taking in each hit your home team takes against the see-through panels. you have the gist down of the game; get the puck into the enemy's goal, but the rest isn’t really your forte. getting smacked around by guys bigger than you isn’t the ideal way to spend your time.

the game reaches its end with your brother’s team just barely winning. a close call, but you can tell they’re excited nonetheless - skating off the ice with high-fives and chest bumps despite their surely aching muscles. you tap maki’s arm, signaling that you were leaving; plans to meet with your brother after their match pre-made.

you wait outside of the locker room, thinking back on your performance and the things you should practice; certain jumps for the next competition, possible new routines and the like. one by one, the team files out the door, still as cheery as when they got off the ice. gojo pushes past his players with a laugh as he exits, ducking and narrowly avoiding a kneepad to the head. his shoes aren’t even tied, tripping over his own feet and running straight into you.

he takes you down in one swoop, grimacing at the impact before realizing you didn’t hit your head. thankfully.

“god satoru, what’s your problem?”

“sorry!” he hurries out, “megumi was trying to-”

“you idiot-!”

you grin at their antics, despite having practically all the air knocked from your lungs. gojo moves to help you stand, shoving you forward in front of your dear friend megumi, who does a double-take at your brother using you as a shield.

megumi opens his mouth to say something, probably a snide comment to gojo, before thinking better of it and settling on a glare directed at your brother. another player stumbles out the door, grabbing at megumi’s shoulder to pull him back.

“woah, fushi, let’s take a breather!”

you can’t help the snort that escapes you, covering your mouth while both pairs of eyes snap to you.

“‘fushi’?” you giggle out, “didn’t know you had other nicknames, ‘gumi.”

he flushes, ears tinting red while glaring daggers at the imbecile who dared to call him something so ridiculous.

“only idiots call me that.”

itadori finally looks at you instead of his friend, really taking a look at you and damn. you’re nothing like he expected, though he doesn’t even know what he expected.

you’re the one megumi is head over heels for, and he can really see why. charming in every way it counts, with a bright smile that has him looking away to evade the blush wanting to seep its way onto his cheeks.

what an odd turn of events.

⠀ ༝ ༝

somehow, the four of you end up at your apartment; gojo insisting on buying dinner despite everyone trying to pitch in.

“think of it as a congrats for a well played game - and well performed dance.” he says with a wave of his hand and a grin. not one of you has the energy to argue, so you watch as he leaves the apartment to pick up the take-out.

megumi and itadori make themselves comfortable on your couch while you make drinks for everyone. tea you’d settled, the promise of it helping their achy muscles on the tip of your tongue as you bring them their cups.

you find yourself in the loveseat across from them, legs tucked under you while you hold the warm cup close to you, “so, when did you guys meet? it’s rare to meet a friend of ‘gumi’s who hasn’t jumped ship within a month of knowing him.”

megumi glares at the nickname, transferring it to itadori as he snickers.

“i knew him in highschool, but we didn’t really talk ‘til i joined the team like ten . . . months ago?” he smiles as he answers, knocking shoulders with his friend, before his brows furrow, “come to think of it, gojo was coaching the school’s team then before he transferred to this one.”

an unasked question sits on his tongue, head tilting slightly when you smile, “i went to a different high school, didn’t want to be known as the coaches sibling,” you explain with a giggle, “got accepted to a private school with a focus on figure skating.”

“have you done figure skating long?” itadori sets his cup down and leans back against the couch.

“pretty much my whole life, since i was like nine. it’s how i met maki , actually.” you smile fondly at the thought of your friend, gaze softening, and the shift in your demeanor isn’t missed by the two, who share a look.

“are you guys . . . ?” itadori starts, only to be nudged by megumi who gives him a glare. don’t ask. don’t tell.

your eyebrows raise at the question before you laugh, having to set down your own cup of tea in order to not spill it all over yourself, “dating? no, god no. she’s been pining after yuuta for the last two years-” you say before you can stop yourself. itadori’s face matches your previously surprised one, brows almost reaching his hairline. their yuuta? number one goalie and worst person at flirting? that yuuta?

“don’t um. . . tell yuuta. or anyone.”

megumi visibly relaxes at hearing there’s no secret relationship between the two of you, side eyeing itadori. itadori, who hums, “well does yuuta. . . ya know, like her back?”

you mull over the question before shrugging, “maybe? i don’t really know him super well, but when we do talk, he blushes when her name is mentioned and always speaks so highly of her. i think he doesn’t realize maki feels the same, so they both just keep it to themselves.”

“yuuta wouldn’t know someone had a crush on him if it hit him in the face.” megumi grumbles, earning a giggle from you.

“he seems like the type.”

megumi snorts, eyes narrowing, “yeah, like you’re any better. remember when that kid left a letter in your locker to meet ‘em at the cafe near your school and you made me go with you? poor kid looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole afterwards.”

your face warms as you rush to sit up straighter, waving your hands, “no, oh my god, don’t remind me!” you squeak out, “that was so embarrassing! he told his friends and i never got another confession letter after that!”

“maybe you shouldn’t bring people with you to deny your dumb confessions,” megumi argues with no malice, grinning at your dismay.

you continue to bicker back and forth between each other, reminiscing on the past and adding teasing remarks to each memory. through it all, itadori watches from the sidelines, a grin on his face.

it’s cute, almost, seeing megumi speak to someone who isn’t a teammate or a rival or a coach or a fan or whatever and there be nothing but warmth in his tone. it’s sweet and refreshing and feels like a breath of fresh air after a long hockey game that’s kept them on the brink of failing and yet . . .

his chest aches.

there’s a burn somewhere deep down that has him clenching his jaw and looking down to his lap when you laugh loudly at a joke megumi makes. he feels almost like he doesn’t belong here, in the space with the two of you. it’s too intimate, despite you sitting several feet apart. he’s an intruder on this precious moment that he helped megumi prepare for. all for someone he could have never known he’d want just as much.

“is there a bathroom?” itadori asks when your laughter dies down to a small fit of giggles, hand covering your mouth to hide your smile.

“yeah, of course!” you scramble to get up, “let me show you, the lock is kinda finicky sometimes.”

you lead the way and itadori is left behind in the scent of fresh linen and lavender and everything that can only be described as you, and when you explain with a smile on your face how to twist the knob while locking it to make sure it clicks in place, itadori feels the burn in his chest swirl down deep into his gut until it settles there heavily.

he sits in the bathroom for a little longer than necessary after you leave him alone.

⠀ ༝ ༝

the ride back to their apartment is silent, stomachs full and tired beyond anyone's belief from their game.

itadori stares solemnly out the window, noting how it’s almost dramatic the way raindrops roll down the glass, how the clouds make the night sky look a hundred times inkier than it naturally is.

it’s megumi who breaks the silence, clearing his throat before he speaks, “do you um . . . what . . . what’s the verdict?”

if itadori could see his friend in the dark, he’d be able to make out the way his cheeks light up pink, unable to to return a glance and gripping the steering wheel unnecessarily tight.

“for?” he prompts, though he’s sure he knows where this conversation is headed.

“them.” megumi clarifies ominously, “do you think i might have a chance or whatever.” his voice trails off.

the sinking feeling returns in the pit of his stomach, and itadori fights to push it down.

“yeah,” he answers honestly, “they’re sweet on you, talk to you in a different way than everyone else.”

megumi’s breath stutters at his friend's confession, and itadori has half a mind to remind him to breathe before he kills the both of them; one death due to asphyxiation, the other in a fiery crash.

“cool.” he says after a moment, “cool, cool, cool.”

“i’ll help you.” itadori decides to settle with as they pull into the parking lot, “i’ll get the rundown for how they feel and stuff - like a secret wingman.” he sends megumi a toothy grin, and megumi finds himself sending a smile back, albeit small compared to the shining of itadori’s pearly whites.

and as they carry their hockey gear up two flights of stairs, itadori wonders for a second if his reasoning is all-that innocent. he’s sure, no, positive he wants to help his friend get the person of his dreams. but as he lays in bed, the sinking feeling returns with a dull ache below his gut, and he fears the implication.

⠀ ༝ ༝

you’re so much easier to talk to than he realized.

conversation flows so freely from you, and itadori eats up each word that passes your lips without hesitation, eager to keep the flux constant and take everything you have to say with greed.

he commits each detail to memory with the intention to relay every bit of information you offer to megumi when the two of them are in the safe confines of their home.

just last week, he’d managed to squeeze a blush out of you as you admitted megumi was your first kiss (a dare, he learned, in middle school when a game of truth or dare threw the two of you into something much more intimate than either you would have ever thought). and tonight, through drunken giggles, celebrating in your apartment after a well-earned win, you delve into the fact that megumi has been your only kiss. almost a decade since, and he’s the only person your lips have touched.

itadori was practically vibrating as he tells megumi, so very certain of one reason as to why that could be.

“they totally have the hots for you.” itadori manages to slur out, one too many wine coolers consumed when the two of you tried to out-drink each other.

megumi grunts, half-heartedly pushing at itadori’s shoulders to get him to pass the threshold of their door, “you think so?”

“know so.” the reply is almost instant, “you should hear the way they talk ‘bout ya, so sweet nd pretty nd soft.” he grins, “s’cute.”

megumi freezes behind him, pausing his efforts to get him inside for only a second before he’s back to it, “right.”

megumi fushiguro may be many things. awkward, aggressive, easily annoyed, but he’s not stupid.

he sees the way itadori looks at you. sees how his eyes light up in a way that's all-too familiar, and the thought of itadori, his best friend, having a crush on you twists his stomach into intangible knots.

he pushes the possibility away as he eases his friend into bed, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face when he looks at his phone as he tucks himself away into his room.

The Annoying Gojo txt me ypu made it homw safe!!

he can overlook the misspells, just this once, warmth setting in his chest at your concern.

gumi <3 Made it home safe. Drink some water.

you smile stupidly as your eyes dance across your screen, shoving your phone into gojo’s face.

“look, look, look!” gojo has to grab your wrist and force you to steady yourself, squinting to read.

“. . . okay?”

you press the phone closer to his eyes as if that could make him understand clearer what you want him to understand, “he cares, 'toru! ‘gumi cares ‘bout me.”

he already knows, if the way he acts around you is anything to go by. still, gojo rolls his eyes and pushes your phone away, “don’t go distracting one of my best players now, or you’ll be banned from coming to games.”

you pout, pulling your phone to your chest protectively, mumbling something about that not being fair and him being so mean for even suggesting the thought.

still, as gojo leads you to bed, he wonders for a second what truly could be going on in his prodigies mind when it comes to you. you’d been quick friends since gojo practically took megumi in to raise him, much to the boy’s dismay at the time, and he’s watched from the sidelines as the two of you blossomed into incredible young adults.

since the ripe age of eight, you’d pined for him and since he was seventeen, megumi had eyed you with that puppy-dog gaze, and neither of you seemed to notice it from the other.

⠀ ༝ ༝

you and maki won your competition. you qualify for nationals. the excitement is palpable, and as you exit the locker room, maki in tow behind you, it’s megumi’s arms you jump into excitedly (completely ignoring your brother and the whines he gives when you don’t immediately accept the flowers he’s brought for you). when you finally separate to acknowledge the rest of the group, itadori finds it impossible to tear his gaze from the blush on your cheeks.

you hug him, too, and finish with your brother, who picks you up and spins you for your well-earned win. your laughter is infectious, bubbling something warm in his chest that has him smiling too while a now dating yuuta and maki say their goodbyes - hands held together and matching blushes on their cheeks in their retreat.

and of course to celebrate, there’s drinking.

after a nice dinner (that gojo paid for), the four of you settle with your liquor (that gojo bought) in your apartment. you’re already pretty tipsy by the time you settle on the couch beside megumi, itadori on the loveseat across from you. a giggle passes your lips as gojo leaves the apartment on the phone, saying something about business, reminded easily of the first time the three of you had been left in your home together.

“‘gumi, ‘gumi, you’re coming to my finals right?” you ask, disregarding the blush that decorates his cheeks as you practically stick to his side. megumi’s eyes meet itadori’s for help, and the latter only shrugs while giving him a thumbs up. he can handle this.

itadori excuses himself to the bathroom.

and as he hears your giggle drifting through the apartment, saccharine sweet and not for him, he finds himself closing the door with a little more force than necessary. it’s then that itadori realizes how unfair life can be. when he looks at himself in the mirror, hands braced against the granite counter, he wonders if things could’ve been different.

if he had met you sooner, would things be different?

he’s reminded how crudely unfair it is that you were introduced to him so late in life. he's known gojo since high school, but you've known megumi since you were six - and some part of him comes to the conclusion that you’ve probably loved him since then, too.

when he comes out of the bathroom, you’re tucked safely into megumi’s side, with him whispering things only you could hear, and itadori feels that bitter feelings returning without warning as he makes himself another drink. it’s wrong, he knows, to allow it to settle in a pit, but he knows he never really had a shot to begin with.

not when he can see you giving megumi one of those soft smiles only reserved for him from his spot in the kitchen. not when megumi returns it with his own gentleness that comes by cupping your cheek, by pressing the tenderest of kisses to your lips.

#megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro x reader #x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #salmon rowe

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analogwriting · 3 months

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Childhood Crush

Chapter 23: Gold

Killer x gn!reader word count: 3.7k a/n: here it is, folks. the last chapter. it's been an absolutely wild ride and thank you all for joining me in this shit show. no, i didn't make it smutty bc i like to try and keep things gender neutral for all parties to enjoy (doesn't mean i might make two different version of a smutty epilogue tho but that would be down the line) Smutilogue (afab, amab)

After your heart slowed down a bit and you could think clearly, you went to move but Killer tightened his grip on you slightly. You stayed where you were, placing your hands over his. “Killer?” you asked in a soft voice. When did he get up? How long has he been awake? How come you didn’t hear him?

“Just…just a minute. Please.” His voice was gruff from not using it, cracking about halfway through his request. You nodded, letting him hang on to you for as long as he needed. You thought of the night in the kitchen when he held onto you as he cried. You couldn’t tell if he was crying now, but he was definitely a little off. Well, he did almost die, so you needed to let him have his moment.

“Here…let me…” You turned around in his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck. He buried his face in your shoulder and held you as you did the same to him. His breathing seemed steady enough, but his heart was racing.

After a few minutes, you could feel his legs begin to shake. “Let’s get you into a chair.” You pulled from him, grabbing a chair for him to sit. “You shouldn’t be standing anyway,” you scolded gently. He sat in the chair, panting softly. He was already wearing himself out, it seemed.

“Why did you get up? You’re in no position to be walking around yet.” You walked over, grabbing a glass of water from the small hand sink before heading back to hand it to him.

“I…” He took the water with a small thanks, but just looked into the cup as he thought about his words. “I guess I just wanted to make sure you were real,” he mumbled, sipping his water. You felt heat rise to your cheeks at his words and you refrained from making any other kind of face.

“Well, of course I’m real, Killi. Who the hell else would be able to bring you back from death’s door, hm?” you mused, turning to grab your clipboard. Killer laughed, the fruit amplifying the sound and making it bounce off the walls. You knew that it probably signaled the other’s that he was awake. It was only a matter of time that your brother was here, then.

“I suppose that’s true. Even if some other doctor found us, the question would be not only would they be able to but would they be willing to.”

You turned to look at him, laughing. “That’s also true.” The Kid Pirates weren’t exactly liked by many. Your brother had a shit attitude, making him easily disliked by others. Honestly, the lot of you were like that. The only people you could really stand were each other. Maybe that was because you’d been around each other for so long. You were all just a bunch of unwanted misfits that found a home in each other. Of course people wouldn’t like the likes of you.

You began to do basic check up procedures, making sure everything was in working order. You changed out some bandages, removing others. His fingers frequently brushed whatever part of you was closest to him as if he wanted to hold onto you but since you were working, he couldn’t.

“You are healing well, but like I told Eustass, your muscles atrophied while laying in bed.” You looked up from your note-taking. “So, light exercise. I’ll probably just have you do a lap around the ship later to get accustomed to walking around again.”

You reached out, holding his bangs back as you used a small light to check his eyes. “I’ll have to also mix up some medicine later - it’ll help speed up the healing process,” you mumbled, more or less, to yourself. You went to pull away but found that Killer had your hand now.

You blinked, turning to look at him. He pressed a kiss to your palm and your face ignited. What in the world was going on? He was being very touchy and, while you honestly were over the moon, you were a little concerned.

“Kil-”

“Did I hear what I think I heard?” Your brother’s voice boomed from down the hallway. You rolled your eyes, grumbling. He couldn’t have picked a worse time to show up, honestly. “Let me go make sure he’s not doing anything stupid,” you mumbled, pulling away from Killer. He squeezed your hand softly before finally letting you go.

Yeah, you two definitely needed to have a conversation when you had a moment.

You walked out of the room, seeing your brother slowly descending the stairs. You folded your arms, leaning against the wall with a smug smile on your face. “It’s okay, tungsten. Take your time,” you mused, watching him.

That earned you the nastiest glare you’ve seen to date. “You are so lucky I am not at full capacity or your ass would be grass.”

A laugh erupted from you and you walked over as he reached the bottom of the stairs. You knew they probably took a lot out of him. He slung his arm around you, leaning into you a considerable amount. “So, he’s awake?” Eustass looked at you. You nodded at him. “He’s awake and fine. Just-”

“Take it easy. Yeah, yeah.” He rolled his eyes.

When the two of you walked into the room that Killer was in, he stood up, meeting your brother half way as they embraced each other. You started hearing the herd of footsteps as the rest of the crew started running down the hallway.

“Incoming,” you mused, stepping out of the way as everyone tumbled in.

“Care- oh, forget it,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes. You’ll just have to deal with whatever aftermath they’ll end up being. You let them all have their moment, slipping out to go and start preparing some dinner.

You decided that since Killer was finally awake, you’d make his favorite this time. After washing your hands, you started the process of making the dough for the pasta. You had a transponder snail playing music quietly in the background as you hummed along with it.

Once again, you felt the strong arms of a certain someone wrap around you. You didn’t tense up this time, just letting it happen as you kept kneading the dough. “Are you making what I think you’re making?” he asked into your neck.

“Figured I’d make your favorite since you’re finally awake.” He just grunted in response before falling silent for a moment.

“Y/n?”

“Yes?”

“There’s something I need to tell you.” You felt your heart almost stop. For the most part, you had a feeling that you knew exactly what he was going to say. After all, he pretty much hadn’t stopped touching you since he woke up. Not to mention the silent confirmation from the festival.

You went to turn around but he kept you in place. “No, no. Don’t turn around. I’ll lose what little confidence I mustered to say this.”

You stopped, nodding. You were quiet, letting him find his words.

“When I was…dying,” he paused and you winced at his word choice. He wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t mean that you liked hearing it. “My life flashed before my eyes. Something that I realized during that time was that every memory and every moment that passed through was you. I know we all grew up together, so it makes sense that you would be a part of them but you were the sole focus of them.” You felt your face heating up, wanting to know what he was getting at. “You’re my life, y/n.”

“There were so many times I wanted to tell you, but never had the confidence. After we found you alive in Wano, I wanted to tell you, but never really got the chance. Especially after you announced that you were staying. I-” He took a deep breath. “I didn’t want to seem like I was trying to manipulate you into staying. That, and everything with the SMILE fruit, I just didn’t have the confidence anymore. I told myself that I’d tell you whenever you returned.”

His grip tightened on you a bit more, but you didn’t say anything. He wasn’t crushing you, but you could feel his yearning, and everything else that wasn’t being said, through his touch.

“I regretted not telling you everything from the beginning. Y/n, I-” His words caught in his throat and you were deadly still, waiting for him to just say it already.

“From the moment I first saw you when you barged into the captain’s room that day…” He swallowed hard. You were glad you were turned around right now because your face was on fire. For that long?

“From the moment I saw you in the captain’s room, you swept me off my feet. The way you took care of all of us without batting an eye. The sacrifices you made to take care of those you cared about. The way you kept saving our asses again and again. You never once complained or talked about how unfair it was. You were so strong in so many ways. You are so strong in so many ways.” You could hear your heart pounding in your ears as he spoke. Your whole body was on fire right now.

“There’s so much I want to say, but I can’t figure out how to say it but…” He buried his face into your neck a little more as his grip grew more firm as if he was afraid you’d disappear at the drop of a hat. You knew he wasn’t the best at expressing his thoughts and feelings, so you were surprised he’d said this much.

“I love you, y/n. I always have. From the moment I met you. And it only grew stronger over the years. I never once stopped thinking about you. You were always on my mind. Even in what I thought were my last moments, you were all I could think about.” Your breathing caught in your throat.

He let out a long sigh, finally loosening his grip on you. You were standing there for a moment, letting his words sink in. It was in that moment that you realized you were crying yourself. Mind spinning, heart racing - you might just pass out at this point. You must’ve been quiet longer than you thought because Killer spoke up. “Y/n?”

You turned around, looking up at him. There was surprise in his eyes soon replaced with panic. He took your face in his hands, wiping away your tears. “I-I’m sorry. Was that too much? Did I-” You gently placed your hand over his mouth to get him to stop apologizing for a moment. It was your turn to try and find your words.

“No, no.” Your words were a bit strained with all the emotion that was currently coursing through your body. “I’m just…happy.” You let out a small laugh, sniffling. You looked up at him, smiling widely. “Seems we’ve both been in the same boat. Ever since I saw you in Eustass’ room that day, you swept me off my feet.” Your heart was pounding and you wished it would just fucking settle down because you felt sick.

“I just always assumed that you viewed me as an older sibling just like the rest of them. You were my brother’s best friend, I was sure there was some kind of rule against that? Bro code or whatever.” That earned a laugh from Killer. Still haunting, but you knew you’d be able to fix that soon enough.

“It’s been the same for me, Killer. I’ve been so in love with you for so long. I figured it was always one sided. I honestly thought it was just a childhood crush, but it only grew as the years went on. Hearing you say those words is honestly a dream come true.” You put your hands over his before pulling him down so you could place a kiss on his cheek.

Due to the SMILE fruit permanently pasting that smile on his face, it made kissing an impossibility. But, you could wait. He didn’t know, but you did. It was only a matter of time.

“I…honestly didn’t think you could love a monster like me after what happened in Wano. I figured you’d be repulsed at the sight of me,” he said, looking at you. “But, you never once looked terrified of me. Nor disgusted. Not even when I was Kamazo.”

You reached up, placing a hand on his cheek and shaking your head. “I could never think of you as a monster. SMILE fruit or not, you’re the same man I’ve always loved. I don’t care what you look like. You could’ve grown a second head or a third arm and I’d still love you.” You smiled up at him, his face warming up.

“Well, it’s about damn fucking time.” Your brother’s voice rang through the kitchen and the two of you jumped, looking over and seeing him with the rest of the crew. There were some misty eyes, some smug grins, and some sniffles. “Heat, Wire, you both owe me 200 berries,” Eustass said, looking back at them and they groaned. There was some murmuring amongst everyone. Did everyone have a fucking betting pool about the two of you?

“No one knows them better than I do.” A shit eating grin spread across his face.

Once your initial shock was over, you finally found your voice. “EUSTASS WHAT THE HELL?” You were fuming. “How long have you fucking been there?” This was an invasion of privacy! Your brother just crossed his arms over his chest, that smug grin not leaving his features. “Long enough.” He shrugged and you felt your eye twitch.

You started after him but Killer grabbed your arm. “Careful, doctor. He’s still healing.” Your jaw dropped and you glared at him. “I will kick your ass too. I’m a doctor. I can kick your ass and patch you up like nothing happened. Don’t fucking tempt me.” You shot a look at your brother and the rest of the crew and they scattered. Though, Eustass, Heat, and Wire stayed. They didn’t fear you in the slightest.

Something dawned on you. “Hold the fuckin’ transponder snail.” You turned your attention to the trio in the doorway. “How long have you known?” You put your hands on your hips, glaring at them.

Eustass shrugged. “Since we were teens.” Your mind nearly exploded. That long? “How come no one fucking said anything?”

The three of them shrugged. “Not our place,” Wire said. You sighed. That was true. It wasn’t their place to say anything.

“Not that we didn’t try to get Killer to confess. Man’s stubborn as shit,” Heat piped up. You slowly turned, looking at Killer who rubbed the back of his neck.

“I was just afraid to lose you as a friend. I couldn’t live with myself if you ended up hating me for saying something.” Fuck, how the hell was he so sweet with a name like Killer? You never could figure that out. “You’re also so intimidatingly out of my league,” he mumbled and your eyes widened.

“You thought what?” Your voice came out as a high pitched squeak as those words left his mouth. Your face was once again on fire. The trio in the doorway burst into laughter and you shot them a glare but it only made them laugh more.

You let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. Irritating as always. You felt Killer wrap his arms around you from behind and you relaxed a little.

“Just don’t get too loud when you two start boning,” Eustass said with a shit eating grin.

Your entire body went white hot and your eyes widened. “EUSTASS!” You tried to run at him, but Killer kept you in place as the trio cackled and ran off, away from your wrath.

For the next week, Killer was practically glued to your hip. Whatever you were doing, he was right there helping you in whatever way he could. Both him and your brother were much better now. Your brother was back to barking orders and working in a makeshift workshop. You knew that if you didn’t have one on this ship, it wasn’t going to be well for anyone. It’s how your brother calmed down, after all.

Today, you decided it was time. Killer was healing well and he seemed to be back at full capacity, so you knew it would be safe to administer the antidote. Your brother was also constantly harassing you about it. “He’s just fine. You’re stalling.” You just shot him a glare every time and he returned the favor. Finally, you were giving in.

You were rummaging around in the drawers of your desk for a moment before you found what you were looking for. You stood up, Killer suddenly standing over you. “What are you looking for?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, nearly taking a tumble before Killer caught you and pulled you to him. “For fucking fuck’s sake. You’re going to end up giving me a heart attack, Killi,” you mumbled, straightening yourself out.

He laughed, the noise ringing off the walls and you looked up at him. His helmet was currently being rebuilt by Eustass as his was destroyed in the altercation with Shanks, so he’d been without it all week. He stopped, noticing your expression. Concern shown in his eyes. “What’s wrong, y/n?”

“You remember how you called me out for not telling the truth about why I stayed in Wano?” The air suddenly shifted to a more serious tone.

He nodded, watching as you moved to face him. “Well, you were right. As you typically are when you call me out. I was working on something.” You held up a small vial.

“What is it?”

“Take it.”

He blinked, looking at you. “I don’t understand.”

“Take the vial and drink it.”

He took the vial slowly, looking between you and the small object. “Is it going to taste like that medicine you gave me last week? I thought I was all good?” His eyes narrowed and you laughed. You shook your head. “No, I already told you. I made that taste like ass because that was my way of getting back at you for almost dying. This doesn’t taste anything like that.”

He looked at you for a long moment before popping it open and throwing it back. He handed it back to you, looking at you expectantly. For a moment, your heart stopped. Why wasn’t it working? Was there a time frame you didn’t know? Was this one a dud?

Then you saw it. His smile unfurling at the edges and his features slowly relaxing. His eyes widened and complete shock took over his face. His face. Not just his eyes. “Wh-”

“That’s why I stayed in Wano, Killer,” you said softly.

He stared at you with his shocked expression and for a moment, you were worried you’d broken the poor man. “Ki-”

His hands were suddenly cupping your face as he pulled you into the most passionate kiss you’d ever experienced. Well, it was the only kiss you’d ever experienced, but either way you were over the moon. You let out a surprised noise, but wasted no time in wrapping your arms around his neck and deepening it. He lifted you up, placing you on the desk as you wrapped your legs around him and pulled him closer.

You felt him smile against you. Actually smile his own, genuine smile and you couldn’t help but mirror him. His hands traveled down to your hips, gripping you firmly causing you to whine against his mouth and your hands, that were currently wrapped up in his hair, tugged on his hair roughly causing him to let out a growl against you. Your heart started racing with excitement.

After a few moments of kissing and groping at each other, he pulled away, resting his forehead on yours as he panted softly. You were doing the same, looking deep into his eyes with a breathless laugh.

“I’ve been waiting to do that forever,” he said, looking at you. “Dreamt about it.”

You quirked an eyebrow, grinning. “Oh? And what else did you dream about?” you cooed, one of your hands playing with his goatee as you looked at him. You watched as his face grew more and more red by the second.

“Holy fucking shit, lock the fucking door next time!” Eustass’ voice interrupted the both of you and the two of you looked over. The both of you looked at each other before erupting into a fit of laughter and you couldn’t help but stare at Killer in awe as you finally heard his laugh again. It wasn’t haunted and distorted by the SMILE fruit anymore. It was one hundred percent Killer and you couldn’t be more in love with it - with him.

Eustass’ face lit up. “Wait. Did you finally do it, Bigs?”

You looked over at him, nodding as you unwrapped your legs from Killer and let him go.

Killer looked between the two of you. “So you knew this whole time, captain?”

Eustass nodded. “Your secret wasn’t the only one I was keeping. Which, I’m glad it’s all out. That shit is the worst.” He rolled his eyes and you laughed.

“I’m honestly surprised you were able to keep any secret at all,” you mused.

He looked at you with a droll expression. “Whatever. Well, I’ll let you get back to shagging, just clean up whatever mess you make and don’t be too loud. I don’t really wanna hear my older sibling getting railed.” He turned to head out of the room.

You felt your face grow white hot. “EUSTASS!”

#hopefully i did this ending justice and i hope y'all enjoyed it #cause i enjoyed writing it #hopefully y'all will stick around for my other writings #i'll eventualyl do the band au i promise #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #killer x reader #massacre soldier killer #killer one piece #am fics #cc

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imaginedanvrs · 4 months

Text

encrypted relations

part 4 l masterlist

summary: yelena belova x reader. when natasha takes you under her wing, she becomes like family, and the last thing you want is to lose that. but when you meet her younger sister who you know is off limits, you have to decide between what you really want and hope for minimal damage

word count: sexual themes, past toxic relationship

warnings: 2.9k

In the few hours that you did spend sleeping, you did it peacefully next to the blonde. If she wasn’t wrapped around you, you were wrapped around her, listening for her steady breathing or heartbeat in your few moments of consciousness. You were glad of them, Yelena appeared more at ease that you had ever seen her when she slept, it was a vulnerable side to her you hoped you would get to see again.

You were both awoken by Yelena’s phone ringing in the morning. The Russian swore under her breath and immediately went to turn off her device until she saw it was Natasha’s contact. You peaked a glance when you noticed Yelena’s consideration and froze upon reading her screen.

Fuck.

“Hello?” Yelena answered, her voice rough and accent thick. It sounded good- no! You needed to snap out of it. You had just slept with the black widow’s sister and if she ever found out you might not ever be seen again.

“Hey, I’m back,” Natasha announced, voice too cheerful after what was no doubt a very long flight.

Great timing, Nat.

“Oh, cool,” Yelena said as she locked eyes with you. You immediately looked away and scrambled around looking for a shirt to put on.

“Don’t tell me you’re not in the city anymore,” Natasha huffed.

“No, I am- still here I mean,” Yelena continued.

“Great, I'll come by later.” The blonde’s eyes widened considerably as she began searching for her own clothes.

“No! I mean…let’s grab lunch!”

“Okay weirdo.” You could hear the suspicion in Natasha’s voice over the phone and you were surprised at how bad Yelena was at lying to her sister. If she carried on like that then you’d be in trouble.

“Great, see you then!” Yelena called down the line before hanging up.

“Your sister’s gonna kill me,” you stated.

“No she won’t,” Yelena disregarded as she put her clothes back on.

“I’m serious, Lena. Don’t tell her,” you pleaded.

“I like when you call me that,” she told you simply, a fond smile playing on her lips. It really wasn’t fair how into her you were. “I’m not going to tell her,” she assured. You breathed out steadily.

“Thank you.” You stood up from the bed just as Yelena finished putting her clothes on. “There's a pack of new toothbrushes in the bathroom,” you added as the blonde headed for the bathroom.

Sighing as you strolled through to the kitchen, you replayed the events of the night in your head. You didn’t regret it, not one bit. Sure, it might not have been the smartest move sleeping with Yelena, but you liked her and you were pretty sure she liked you too so surely there was nothing to feel guilty about. Yet you still did, because you also remembered the first time Natasha had told you about her sister.

“You want something to eat?” You asked when the blonde reemerged. Yelena winked at you in response and you threw a spoon at her.

“I can think of something,” she mused as you turned your back to her.

“You’re impossible,” you called back, earning a soft laugh that made your heart squeeze. You were setting up some coffee when she joined you, placing a tender hand to your waist as she kissed your neck. You leaned into the touch despite yourself.

“Lena,” you warned as she snaked her hands around your waist.

“What? You offered,” she grinned against you. Somehow, you gathered the strength to turn around and press a hand to her chest to keep her within distance.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to do this again,” you said, unable to read the blonde as she considered your words. Last night, you had both admitted to having wanted it for some time, and although now that it had you wanted nothing more than to do it again, you had to think of the risks. Jokes aside, you didn’t want to hurt Natasha by sleeping with her sister, you had no idea what kind of wedge that could drive between you.

“Okay,” Yelena agreed. “I should go.” You didn’t want her to, but you nodded. She left your side to put her shoes and jacket on but came back with the murmur of her keys that were on the island behind you. She reached around to grab them, invading your space in a welcomed way as she did so and lingered for a second too long. You glanced down at her lips, remembering well how soft they were and how tender yet assertive they felt against your own. You weren’t ready to give that up yet.

You brought your hand up to the side of Yelena’s face, bringing it to your own for your lips to meet in familiarity. You felt the blonde smile into you, a smile of triumph. “I thought you said-” she tried but you cut her off.

“Shut up,” you said as you pushed her up against the wall and set about undoing the zip of her trousers. She watched you with an amused smirk and pushed you to your knees.

“I should probably go for real this time,” Yelena said as she combed her fingers through your slightly tangled hair.

“It’s nowhere near lunchtime yet,” you objected, eyes closed as you enjoyed the comfort of laying curled into Yelena’s side on your sofa. You felt her chest vibrate as she chuckled. “Besides, I’m trying to catch up on sleep here,” you pointed out.

“I have to shower and change.” You looked up at the blonde.

“I have to shower too,” you said matter of factly.

“Then I really will be late,” Yelena smiled as she traced the outline of your face with her index finger. You hummed, close to shutting your eyes again but knowing that the Russian was right. You weren't going to stop her seeing her sister.

“Okay,” you whispered, prying yourself off her to plant a soft kiss to her lips before you got up and threw her once again discarded clothes back at her. You went to put your own on but caught a brief glimpse of yourself in the windowed cabinet in the kitchen. “Yelena,” you hissed as you put your hand up to the various marks across your skin. “How old are you, fifteen?” Yelena simply laughed at your agitation, feeling undeniably proud of the traces she had left of herself.

“They’re just in case you decide to go back to that bar when I’m not around,” she shrugged. You really couldn’t tell if she was joking or not.

“I think I’ll steer clear,” you muttered as you examined the marks through your phone’s camera. She was insatiable.

“I’ll see you soon, detka,” Yelena said softly with a kiss that lingered long enough for you to savour. Maybe being insatiable wasn’t a bad quality.

Once Yelena left, you scrolled through your notifications to find several texts from Natasha and Kate, more so from the archer so you answered her first.

Kate: you guys having fun? ;)

Kate: make sure you both get home safe!!

Kate: you better not be dead

Kate: or are you just hooking up

Kate: dude text me back or im assuming youre dead

Kate: oh wait lesbian sex takes ages doesnt it, okay ill give you until morning -_-

Kate: *raised brow* You stared down at your phone and quickly typed out a reply to put your friend’s worries at ease.

Me: hi, hows lucky??

Kate: hes fine, just a little shit. you totally fucked didnt you You didn’t even think about denying it from your best friend.

Me: maybe

Kate: I KNEW YOU WOULD

Me: WHAT? HOW?

Kate: im coming over (is it safe?)

Me: yes shes gone

Kate: omw

You really thought you had been subtle about liking Yelena the way that you did and you hadn’t been able to say for sure that she was into you either until that night. You guessed you couldn’t get that sort of thing past the future private detective/best friend and you were glad she knew. You had wanted to tell her months ago, but that would have made it real.

Nat: im back, flash drive : ) what kind of mayhem did you unleash with my sister while i was gone?

The we-almost-broke-my-bed kind, you thought.

Me: i made her watch survivor, she’s cool

Nat: without me?? traitor You stared at the screen for a minute before responding.

Me: im glad youre back, how was the mission?

Nat: long, come by the tower tomorrow?

Me: sure : )

By the time you were finished in the shower and dressed in clean clothes, Kate was letting herself into your apartment with an excited grin. Lucky made a b-line for Marty as Kate went to take her coat off. “No, no! We’re going for a walk, I need the fresh air,” you were quick to say. At the very mention, Marty grabbed his collar and leash as you put on your own coat.

“I bet you do,” Kate muttered with a knowing smile. “I knew it was going to happen sooner or later,” she continued.

“How?” You questioned as you closed the apartment door behind you. “I didn’t even know it was going to happen.”

“Oh come on, it was obvious with the way you guys were looking at each other all the time,” Kate stated as you made your way out of the building and headed in the direction of the park.

“I wasn’t even sure she was into me,” you told the archer. “And anyway, I doubt it will happen again,” you falsely predicted.

“Why not? I think you guys would be good together.”

“Woah, who said anything about being together?” You questioned with alarm. “It’s one thing for me to be sleeping with her, dating would lead me to a whole other level of gruesome murder by Natasha,” you explained. Kate frowned.

“You think Nat wouldn’t want you to? Why?” It hadn’t crossed the archer’s mind at any point that your hesitance towards Yelena was because of her sister.

“Because she told me.”

You leant back in your chair as the green bar moved steadily across your screen. The videos Rae ‘needed’ always took a long time to download and sometimes extra encryption overrides were needed to access it. They were never any cause for concern though due to the fact you knew how S.H.I.E.L.D operated all of their systems as well as you knew your own. The accomplishment would have thrilled you months prior, but since it was being used for Rae and whoever else, you just felt ashamed.

It hadn’t taken long for Rae’s requests to go beyond people. She needed layouts of buildings you tried not to remember the names of incase you saw them on the news. She needed videos and recordings. She needed you to block signals and replicate them with your own, create and plant viruses. You didn’t know how to do the last ones and it had taken you some time to learn despite Rae’s well known impatience.

It wasn’t just S.H.I.E.L.D anymore either. It was everyone. It was various governments, organisations and sites you didn’t recognise the names but were clearly important once you saw the information you had. With every little thing you passed on, your guilt gnawed away at you, digging its teeth in when it was hard to ignore that your actions were causing significant harm, even if it was indirectly. That evening, you reached your breaking point.

Rae was in another room when the video finished downloading. You got up to let her know but lost your balance slightly and reached out to the desk for support, accidentally pressing down on the keyboard in doing so and playing the video. You only saw a second before you scrambled to exit it, but you had seen enough. A child. A little boy, no less than five. You couldn’t see where he was or what was going on, all you saw was the close up of his face. An anchor dropped in your chest as you steadied yourself.

“Done,” you called out, voice cracking slightly as you willed yourself to stop thinking about what that little boy’s face meant. Rae came out of the bedroom just as you began taking the process of sending the video over to her. If she could tell that you were shaken, she didn’t say anything.

“Great,” she said as she grabbed a glass of water and sauntered back into the bedroom. Did she know? Surely not. Your girlfriend was by no means a saint but she would never go so low as being involved with…whatever that video was about. You put your forehead in your hand for a moment, as though it would settle the buzzing coming from within. You couldn’t think about it. You had no part in Rae’s world.

“I’m going out,” she informed as she grabbed her keys from the mantelpiece. That meant she wouldn’t be back until you were at work the next day.

You couldn’t believe your own lies, you had a big part in Rae’s world. You moved the mouse across the screen, about to start the rehearsed process of covering your footprints. Then you paused, took in a deep breath, and took the complicated way out, the one that left a trace of you that someone at S.H.I.E.L.D would find. It could take seconds, maybe hours, no more than a day. They’d come eventually though, they’d stop you and everything would be okay, just maybe not for you.

It took three hours and twenty six minutes. You knew because you couldn’t stop looking at the time. She came through your bedroom window, where the fire escape was. You never heard her come in, but you were watching the hallway to your bedroom when she appeared. She froze, locked eyes even though you couldn’t make out past her silhouette in the dark. She was holding a gun and it was aimed right at you.

You closed your eyes and held your trembling hands together. You didn’t want to die and you hadn’t been expecting them to shoot you, but you didn’t have it in you to protest. Half a minute passed and you didn’t feel or hear anything. When you opened your eyes again she was leaning her back against the kitchen worktop facing you, just a few steps away.

You recognised her immediately. Black widow. You were surprised and a little flattered that they sent her. You imagined it would be some rookie, that you would be deemed a low threat. You wondered what made them think otherwise but weren’t about to ask. Not when she was watching you the way she was. You looked back, hoping she wasn’t expecting you to speak first because you had no idea what to say to the Avenger. The Avenger they had asked to take down the nineteen year old hacker.

“Do you want a drink?” You eventually asked because she wasn’t saying anything and it was a very uncomfortable silence.

“You’re under arrest, you know?” She said flatly.

“You can do that?” You asked, genuinely surprised. She arched a brow in response, as though she could see no reason why not. “I mean I knew you would come and take me to wherever but I didn’t think you could call it arresting,” you continued.

“We can’t call it kidnapping,” she pointed out.

“No, I suppose that wouldn’t look very good in the reports,” you considered.

“You would know, I’m sure,” she said as she eyed the screen behind you. Everything was turned off.

“Not really, I never read those kinds of reports,” you said honestly.

“No? But you did read reports,” she pushed.

“You would know, clearly,” you stated as you waved at where Natasha stood, surprised at your lack of nerves in the Russian’s presence. At this, she smiled. You smiled back awkwardly, wondering where she was going to go from there. “Are you going to handcuff me?”

“No.”

“Are you going to sedate me?” Natasha tilted her head slightly as she scanned you.

“I’m not sure yet,” she said honestly. You nodded and pulled at the sleeves of your jumper. It was a chilly night and you knew it would be colder outside.

“Can I put on a coat before we go?”

“Sure,” she said without much consideration and followed you into the bedroom.

“So why’d they send you?” You continued to ask as you grabbed your navy blue coat from the closet.

“You ask a lot of questions,” Natasha stated but didn’t sound irritated.

“I’m a curious person,” you shrugged.

“Then I probably should sedate you,” she countered.

“Okay,” you said, eyeing her gun she had since put back in its holster. Natasha raised a brow again, clearly not expecting you to be so agreeable to everything. “Will it hurt?” That bit didn’t sound so laid back.

“For a second,” she informed honestly.

“Okay,” you repeated and closed your eyes again. Natasha took that as her queue to not draw her mission out any longer and knew that she would be talking to you again soon anyway. She raised her widow bites to your neck and released the stunner.

#marvel #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova #kate bishop #gxg marvel

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fanficimagery · 2 years

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Be Somebody to Someone 3/4

You've lived your entire life in Forks, Washington without anyone paying too close attention to you. Then you befriend the new girl and suddenly you find yourself friends with the unexpected. And maybe even something more if a certain shapeshifter stops denying the Fates.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR

Words: 4.4K Author's Note: Mentions brief assault.

Hearing you're someone's soulmate- er, imprint- should have been world changing all on its own, but hearing you were someone's unwanted imprint completely overrode anything and everything you had been feeling. You weren't as close to Paul as you were to a couple of the others, so you aren't sure why his words hurt so much.

Fortunately for you, Jacob Black is a pretty decent friend and shows up later that night to explain the entire imprint situation to you. It makes you feel a little uncomfortable knowing that the pack has no say so in whoever they imprint on, but according to Jacob it isn't all that bad. Sam's imprint was Emily and, though they had a rocky start, they are perfectly happy. Jared was the only other shifter who had imprinted and, according to Jacob, Kim was very much in love and loved by Jared.

Hearing how Emily and Kim are perfectly doted on by Sam and Jared makes you yearn for someone of your own, but you refuse to let Jacob realize that. Especially after Paul's words keep replaying over and over in your head.

I didn't want you.

So instead of worrying about a relationship that was obviously never going to be, you vow to focus on your final year of school. And taking more edibles than you were comfortable with to ease the consistent ache in your chest.

Over the next few months, you divide your time between Forks and La Push.

You are hesitant to keep up the visits to the reservation, but remembering that the imprint bond would hurt Paul if you were to cut off all associations kept you visiting more frequently than you had intentionally planned. Emily was more than happy to have you come around, happy to see her friendship with you didn't suffer, but it was plain to see how your walls went up the moment any of the shifters made themselves known.

Ignoring the bond obviously put a strain on Paul and seeing it made you soften towards him. He might have broken your heart, but you weren't mean enough to hold a grudge and make his suffering worse, even if the newly shifted Leah suggested he deserved the cold shoulder. So whenever you caught his gaze, you offered him a timid smile to ease some of his worries. There were even times when you would be seated next to him at Emily's table and you'd let your knee rest against his thigh to make him relax.

When Prom eventually rolled around, initially you weren't going to go. Bella and her tiny demon of a best friend Alice nagged and nagged, and it wasn't until Rosalie showed you pictures of a dress that she liked for you did you eventually agree.

So the night of prom finds you furiously screeching to a stop in front of Emily's home, marching into her home in your two-piece burgundy prom dress- midriff exposed and the slit in your skirt riding a little too high on your thigh- with a sash and crown gripped in hand.

Emily and the pack stare at you, Paul's eyes bugging incredulously.

"YN.." Emily cautiously approaches. "What happened?"

"I'm gonna murder a teeny tiny vampire and I need some help."

She blinks before her lips twitch. "And why are you plotting murder?"

"Rigging the prom election so my name would be on the ballot is one thing, but rigging the entire thing so I had to walk on stage in front of everyone?! Inexcusable!" The entire kitchen is quiet until Jacob snorts and then everyone's laughing. You stomp your foot. "It's not funny."

"It kind of is," Embry muses.

"Are you seriously upset that you won prom queen?" Jacob asks.

"Yes! It was embarrassing." You frown. "I had to dance with some moron who didn't even know my name. He only knew me as stoner girl."

"Regardless of how the night went," Emily says, "you need to breathe and let me take a picture of you because that dress is gorgeous."

You stare incredulously at Emily before your shoulders sag and the giggles set in. You finally let the annoyance go and find the humor in the entire situation, and subject yourself to the inevitable photo session you're about to partake in.

Emily directs you outside so you have the forest as a backdrop, and then she takes your picture without the crown and sash. Afterwards, you put the sash and crown on for another picture, and then instruct Sam to take the next picture because you want one with Emily. The pack, with the exception of Leah, get in on the pictures as well and there's a brief lull in the chaotic atmosphere when Jared suggests you take a picture with Paul. Everyone had quieted, staring between you and Paul, and you slowly grinned.

"I'll take a picture with you if you wear the sash," you had told him. Paul seemed to relax at your olive branch, grinning back at you as he agreed.

Anytime you interacted with Paul, his words remained at the forefront of your mind. You did your best to remain cordial with him, much to everyone's relief, and even invited him to your graduation.

Well technically you invited Emily and Sam- giving them a few tickets while telling them to pass them out to whoever. You knew the entire pack couldn't go because of some redheaded vampire that'd been testing everyone's patience- intent on getting to Bella apparently- and they had to protect the res, but you would take what you could get since only your parents were going for you.

So on the day of graduation, you're pleasantly happy to see Emily, Sam and Paul sitting in the crowd- well away from Carlisle and Esme who had attended for Jasper, Alice, Edward and Bella. And when it's your turn to walk the stage when your name's called, you glare at the ones who cheered loudest for you- Sam, Paul, Jasper and Alice. You even glared at Edward and Bella for good measure when they laughed at your misfortune.

Then after taking the obligatory pictures with your parents and friends, Bella and Alice make sure you head over to the Cullen household for a grad party.

"Do you really have to go to the house full of leeches?" Paul grumbles.

You glance at him, appreciating the black button up and dark washed jeans he'd sported for the ceremony, and shrug. "Yep. I've survived this long surrounded by vampires, I'm not gonna deprive myself of this last party."

"Well congratulations again," Emily says before Paul can retort. "Have fun and we'll see you tomorrow."

"Sure. Thanks, Em!"

Paul huffs and stomps off, and you roll your eyes as you hug the imprinted duo in front of you before sending them off.

Later that night and two edibles deep, you dopily grin as Jessica and Angela try to carry on a whispered conversation about the house they had finally been invited to. The party Alice had planned was a hit with all the now ex-students and the food was surprisingly really good.

Happily filling a plastic cup with skittles from the candy table, you whine when Bella grasps onto your wrist and starts to drag you away. "Noooo. I wasn't done."

"You have enough skittles. I need help with the party crashers."

"Party crashers?" As Bella leads you towards one side of the room, your eyes light up at the sight of Jacob, Paul and Quil. "Guys! Hey, look. Alice got a candy table and there were so many skittles!"

The three Quileutes grin as you grab some skittles, tipping your head back and then dropping the candy into your mouth.

"What are you doing here?" Bella asks, tone suddenly annoyed.

Chewing, you frown at your friend. Jacob, however, grins. "You invited me, remember?"

"My fist to your face was me disinviting you."

You snort as the memory of Bella telling you she'd punched Jacob resurfaces. But before he can say anything else on the matter, Bella sees something from the corner of her eye. "Alice?"

You turn just as Edward and Jasper appear at Alice's side, and you follow after Bella with the Quileutes following you.

"What'd you see?" Bella asks.

Alice's eyes flutter as she frowns. "The decision has been made."

"What's going on?" Jacob asks, but goes ignored.

Bella seems to comprehend what she's not saying. "You're not going to Seattle?"

"No." The pixie vampire frowns. "They're coming here."

Edward's eyes suddenly widen and then he's grasping onto Bella's hand. "We need to talk. Everyone get to Carlisle's study. Now."

The Quileutes glance at you and you shrug. "He said everyone. Let's go."

When you step inside Carlisle's study, you're not surprised to see Carlisle, Esme, Rosalie and Emmett already there.

"What's going on?" Carlisle asks.

"They'll be here in four days," Alice tells him.

"This could turn into a bloodbath." You've never seen Doctor Cullen look even the teensiest bit shaken, so to see him falter now makes you uneasy. "Who's behind it?"

"I didn't see anyone I recognized. Maybe one.."

"I know his face," Edward says, again reading his sister's mind. "He's local. Riley Biers."

"That kid who went missing like a year ago?" You ask.

Edward nods and the Quileutes glance between everyone, the conversation not making any sense to them. "He didn't start this though," Edward then says. "Whoever did this is staying out of the action."

"They must be playing with the blind spots in your vision," Jasper drawls.

"Either way," Carlisle says, "the army is coming and there aren't enough of us to protect the town."

"Hold up," Jacob speaks up, finally annoyed at being out of the loop. "What damn army?"

"Newborns. Our kind." Carlisle's words make dread fill you.

"What are they after?" You feel Paul and Quil close in on you, and you gulp as Jacob takes charge of asking the questions now.

"They were passing around Bella's scent," Alice says. "A red blouse."

"They're after Bella?" You shakily ask, glancing worriedly at your friend.

"What the hell does this mean?" Paul then asks.

"It means an ugly fight with lives lost," Carlisle answers.

Jacob glances at Paul and Quil before nodding at Carlisle. "Alright. We're in."

"No." Bella's outright refusal shocks you. "You'll get yourselves killed. No way."

"I wasn't asking for permission."

"Edward," she then tries to plead with her boyfriend.

"It means more protection for you," he says instead.

"Jacob, do you believe Sam will agree to an understanding?" Carlisle wonders.

He shrugs. "As long as we get to kill some vampires."

"Jasper?" Carlisle turns to his other son.

"They'll give us the numbers and the newborns won't know they even exist."

"That'll give us an edge," Emmett muses, grinning at the thought of a fight.

"We'll need to coordinate."

"Carlisle, they'll get hurt," Bella says.

"We'll all need some training. Fighting newborns requires knowledge that Jasper has." Then glancing at the shifters, Carlisle tells them, "You're welcome to join us."

Jacob nods as Paul and Quil grumble in agreement. "Just name the time and place."

"Jake." Bella's pleading expression sits wrong with you, and even Paul doesn't seem to appreciate her trying to keep them out of the fight. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into."

"Bella, this is what we do. You should be happy," he then tells her. "Look at us, working together. You're the one who wanted us to get along, remember?"

Bella glances between him and Edward, then turns towards you in hopes of getting you to make them see reason. "YN, say something! Surely you don't want Paul out there fighting."

You wince and Jacob steps directly in front of you, shielding you from her view when Paul starts to tremble in anger. Everything between you and Paul was still fragile and you didn't appreciate her throwing your imprint business out there like that.

"It's done. We're fighting," Jacob says. He glances over at Carlisle then. "You can call YN with the details. She'll relay it to us."

"We will. Thank you, Jacob."

You decide to leave with the boys, no longer interested in the party. And when you step outside the household, Paul immediately asks for your keys. "I'm driving."

And not wanting to argue, you hand them over. Jacob and Quil continue on the driveway to Jacob's father's truck, and then all too soon you're on the road to La Push.

The drive is uncomfortably quiet, the enclosed space of Jeep thick with tension.

"I know I've still been a bit of a dick," you snort at his words, "but I have a favor to ask."

"Shoot."

"When the newborns come, I want you on the res with Emily."

"What about my parents?"

"I'm sure the leeches will find a secluded spot for the fight and we'll do our damnedest to prevent any other leeches from making a run into town."

After a moment of thinking about it, you agree. "Okay. When we know the exact day of the fight, I'll pack an overnight bag for the night before."

He exhales with relief. "Thanks."

When Alice texts you with the time and place for the pack to meet with them, you alert Jacob of it who passes it on to Sam. And now that you've graduated, it's easier to spend all the time in the world down in La Push since you put off community college for a year or so.

Then when you know the exact day of the newborn fight, Emily prepares her guest room for you and you stay the night before the fight is to take place.

"Are you okay?" Emily asks when you're seated at her table.

Knee bouncing beneath the table, your hands wrap around a cup of hot chocolate. "Yeah. I just- I'm worried, you know?"

"I know." She smiles while taking a seat across from you. "But the pack was made for this. They're going to be okay."

"They better."

Emily tries to keep you occupied over the next couple of hours, but you're too anxious to really be of any help. And just when you feel like you can't wait any longer, Emily's house phone rings and she's quick to rush and answer it.

"Hello?" She pauses, listening. "Yeah. Okay. We'll be right there."

As she hangs up, your heart starts to beat double. "What happened?"

"Jacob was injured. We need to get to Billy's."

And just like that, your earlier fears come back tenfold.

You toss your keys to Emily, letting her drive your Jeep. She drives as fast as she can and makes it to the Black residence in no time. Then the two of you are jumping out of your vehicle and rushing towards the pack who are lingering outside, surrounding Billy Black.

Sam isn't outside, so Emily joins Sue Clearwater to console Billy. You step up to Paul's side, your arm brushing his and you inhale sharply when he automatically wraps his arm around the back of your shoulders to pull you into his side.

No one says a word, but then Jacob's agonizing scream pierces the air and you wince.

"It's been going on for a while," Paul murmurs. "Doc's rebreaking his bones."

Across from you, Leah huffs. "Why'd he have to butt in? I could've taken that tick."

"Oh give it a rest, Leah," Jared says.

A vehicle, fast approaching, catches everyone's attention, and it's Leah who scoffs when she notices it's Bella. Your friend jumps out of the truck and rushes towards the group, but the screen door creaking open catches everyone's attention. Everyone seems to hold their breath as Sam escorts Carlisle out.

"The worst is over," Carlisle tells Billy. "He'll be alright." Everyone seems to exhale with relief. "I gave him some morphine, but his body temperature will burn it off soon. I'll come back to set up a drip."

Billy, with tears in his eyes, nods at Carlisle. "Thank you."

Carlisle nods and then glances at Bella. "He's asking for you."

She nods and hurries into the house.

Once everyone can breathe a little easier, Paul pulls his arm back and immediately goes to Sam. You frown, resignation sinking in once more, and you look around just to see Leah shaking her head at you. She then turns a glare on Paul, puffing up, and you can practically hear the rant she has prepared for her pack brother. But after quickly shaking your head at her, expression pleading for her to not say anything, she rolls her eyes and walks off.

You gulp and then take a moment to settle your breathing before approaching Billy. "I'm glad Jacob's going to be okay."

"Thank you."

Then glancing up at Emily, you say, "I'm gonna head out. Do you want a ride back?"

"I can catch a ride with Sue."

"Okay." You glance at Paul, but he's staring at you as if you leaving means nothing. You were hoping to hear him mention that he wanted you to stay or at least show that he was anxious about you leaving, but.. nothing.

So with a heavy heart, you take your keys back from Emily and leave the reservation.

As the weeks pass on by with no incident, everyone finally starts to relax.

You're still not doing much, with the exception of keeping up with the house chores so your parents have no reason to threaten you with homelessness and visiting with Emily, that you have a bad feeling when Bella personally delivers her wedding invitation to your house. You're happy for your friend, of course, but you know one person who was not going to be. And sure enough, when the Blacks get a wedding invitation, Jacob runs away.

And since you and Paul are still in a weird place, you take no issue with Sam when he sends Paul and Quil to search for their packmate.

You eventually find yourself visiting with the house full of vampires, sitting in on the wedding planning to pass some time. But seeing everyone happily coupled up starts to get to you. Only Bella and Edward know the reason for your sudden melancholy, and thankfully they never mention anything about you and Paul.

Angela and Jessica, who were still sticking around Forks, decide to get you out and about one day in order to cheer you up. Jessica decides on a club in Seattle and, since there was no newborn army to worry about, you agree. However, vampires were apparently not the only threat you had to worry about.

Humans were capable of shitty behavior and unfortunately you ended up in one of the shittiest situations you ever found yourself in.

The club Jessica had chosen was for eighteen and up, so of course the creeps had come out to play. Everything was fine for a while, the three of you dancing and drinking soda. For a moment you forgot all about a certain shifter in La Push and actually had some fun. But then you excused yourself to the bathrooms and that's when your night took a turn for the worse.

Your phone had been on silent which is why you never noticed Alice calling because if you had, you would have been warned about the attack.

One moment you were walking down the hallway to rejoin your friends when you saw a drunk approaching. You attempted to avoid eye contact, but apparently that wasn't enough to dissuade him from chatting you up. You tried to be polite when telling him you weren't interested and had friends you needed to get back to, but he was persistent. He even grabbed your bicep to keep you in place in the darkened hallway, and when you opened your mouth to yell, his hand clamped over your mouth.

Panic overrode everything you felt, and you struggled to get out of the man's grasp. You felt a heavy weight hit your right cheekbone before hands grasped at your shoulders, snapping one of the straps to your shirt. You were able to shout then, but the music covered it up. And thankfully someone else decided to walk down the hall, shouting at your attacker and making him freeze. Seeing a moment, you pushed him backwards and kneed him in the groin.

Before the bouncers could be called, the guy took off. Jessica and Angela were worried and apologetic after you had explained what happened and had no problem calling it a night. They apologized over and over, but you assured them it wasn't their fault. And when they spoke of getting you home, you asked them to take you someplace else instead.

So that's how you wind up at Emily's, knocking on her door and waving your friends off when you can hear Emily shuffling around inside. It's a little later than normal so you understand your friend's hesitance to open up, but when she does, her eyes widen in surprise.

You're pretty sure your eyes are red rimmed and puffy, there's most likely a bruise forming on your cheek, and you have your arms crossed over your chest to keep your shirt from exposing you any further.

"YN? What happened?!" She pushes the screen door open to usher you inside, waving at your friends so they can leave.

You smile weakly at her. "Hey Em, do you think it's okay if I stay here tonight? I don't want to go home like this."

"Yes. Of course!" She wraps an arm around your shoulders when she notices you're shivering and takes you to the bathroom. "What happened?"

"We went- and I just- some guy got a little handsy," you stammer weakly. As the events replay in your mind, your eyes fill with tears.

"Oh honey." It dawns on Emily what happened, or what could have happened, and the softness of her voice makes you finally lose what little composure you had.

As you stand there in the bathroom, Emily holds you while you cry. You mumble about how stupid you were to have gone alone and she assures you that it's okay, and that you're not to blame. Men who feel entitled to a woman's body are the ones to blame. Then after a handful of minutes, she mentions that you should take a hot shower and get into bed. She has an outfit to spare and you're more than welcome to it.

None of the pack are around so you figure they're on patrol, something which you're grateful for. You take the offered pair of leggings and a loose long sleeve shirt of hers, and then take a much-needed hot shower.

Afterwards, you immediately climb into bed and curl up under the covers. Emily joins you moments later, curling up behind your back and holding your close. And if she sheds a few tears with you, neither of you mention it.

You're dozing when you hear a door bang open and you flinch awake. Emily immediately squeezes you, shushing you and trying to lull you back into a sense of safety. Then it isn't long until Sam's large frame is filling the opened doorway.

"Em?"

You curl into yourself even tighter at the sound of his voice and you can feel Emily sit up behind you. "There was an incident earlier. YN is going to stay here tonight."

"I-I can go," you mumble. "I didn't exactly give a head's up."

"It's fine," he assures you, but then frowns. "What incident?" Emily says nothing so you lift your head, showing Sam the side of your bruised face. Surprisingly, he chuckles. "You get into a fight or something?"

"Or something."

As you lay your head back down, Emily gets up. She walks towards Sam, pulling him towards the hallway and out of the room. You're pretty sure she's filling him in on what happened, and you're proven correct when Sam re-enters the room with an apologetic expression.

"YN, I'm so so-"

"It's fine, Sam. You didn't know," you say.

"Still." He gulps and you smile weakly at him. "Does Paul know?"

"No."

"I'm gonna have to tell him."

"You do whatever you feel is necessary, alpha Uley."

Sam disappears from the doorway and Emily rejoins you. She sits on the edge of the bed and moments later there's a sorrowful howl piercing the air.

"Looks like the cat's out of the bag," you mumble.

Emily does her best to soothe your worries, assuring you all is going to be fine. She stays with you as time continues to pass and it's been what feels like more than ten minutes before you hear someone walking down the hallway.

You tense and then Paul, fully clothed, is filling the doorway. Immediately you can tell he didn't take the news well and Emily offers you a smile of assurance before leaving the two of you alone.

Your eyes track him as he hesitantly steps into the room, pulling the ottoman from the end of the bed to the side of the bed. He sits down, facing away from you and rests his elbows on his knees as he hangs his head. "Who was he?"

"I don't know," you murmur. "He just cornered me in the hallway."

"Did you make a report?"

"No." You see him shake, but he manages to pull himself together. "He ran before the bouncers came and I didn't get a good description of him anyway."

Paul goes quiet and when you hear his breath hitch, you know he's crying. He turns his head, eyes red rimmed and full of tears. "I am so sorry."

"Why?" You frown. "It wasn't your fault this happened."

"But if I hadn't avoided the imprint-"

"Don't." You move to sit up against the headboard. "This has nothing to do with the bond. Even if you and I were in a good place, I'd have still gone out with my friends. This isn't on anyone but the creep who couldn't take a hint."

"I feel like it's my fault. It's my job to protect you."

"Yeah? Well it's my job to not make stupid decisions. So if you're gonna blame yourself, you might as well blame me too."

Paul continues to stare at you, expression solemn. "We need to do better. I need to do better," he then amends. You offer him a faint smile, shrugging. "Can we- can we just start over to where I'm not a complete asshole and we can attempt an actual friendship?"

"Are you capable of not being an asshole?"

A moment passes and he huffs a laugh. "Yes."

"Then okay." You let the silence hang for a bit before saying, "Hi. I'm YN."

To be continued..

#paul x reader #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote imagine #twilight imagine #paul lahote #emily young #sam uley #twilight #new moon #eclipse

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