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s1urnioloslvr · 6 months

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Movie Night (C.S) 18+

Chris Sturniolo x reader

Warnings: Smut, kinda public sex, idk

You were spending the night at the triplets' house, as you often did. It was a tradition for all of you to have a big sleepover in the living room, watching a random movie that Nic had been ranting about all day. Matt and Nic had gone to the store, leaving you and Chris to set up the blankets and make everything cozy.

As you started to arrange the blankets on the couches, you realized that you had forgotten your favorite panda blanket in Nic's room. "Hey! I’m gonna go get my blanket from Nic's room!" you exclaimed to Chris, "Well, I'm going too!" Chris replied, making his way into Nic's room.

You shrugged and thought this was just him being a silly little goofball (LMFAOO OKAY ILL STOP)and grabbed another blanket before heading into Nic's room as well. When you both walked back out, he was holding some sort of teddy bear or something... (ugh hes so cute), and you sat down on the couch, throwing the blanket over the both of you. The movie started playing, though you couldn't even remember what it was. But it didn't really matter; you were just happy to spend time with your friends.

However, as the movie progressed, you turned your head and caught a glimpse of Chris. He was wearing the grey sweatpants and a simple white t-shirt. You couldn't help but stare, and it seemed like he was doing the same to you. The tension in the air began to grow, thickening like fog.

Eventually, Nic grew tired and Matt got bored of the movie. Nic got up and announced that he was going to bed. "Goodnight y/n, night Chris," he said while rubbing his eyes. "Night Nic, see you tomorrow!" you replied. Chris simply said, "Goodnight."

The movie seemed to drag on forever, but finally, after what felt like an eternity, it ended. "That was kinda boring," you remarked. "I agree, maybe we should try something else," Chris suggested with a mischievous smile. You laughed and shook your head, heading into the kitchen to grab an orange Fanta, while Chris reached for a Pepsi.

Suddenly, the tension in the air became palpable. You turned around quickly and just stared at Chris. He turned red and cleared his throat nervously, grabbing the kitchen counter for support. "Uh... what's wrong?" you asked, completely unsure of what he was thinking.

"Uh... nothing, sorry, I'm fine," he replied, stuttering and nervously laughing. God, you loved his laugh.

Deciding it was now or never, you summoned up all your courage fueled by the night. "No, it's okay, you're freaking me out. Why is there so much tension?" you asked teasingly, putting your hand on his chest and looking up at him.

His blue eyes locked onto yours, and in one swift motion, he grabbed you by the waist, pulling you towards him and capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. It was your first kiss with him, and it felt like your whole body was set ablaze. You could feel the intensity of his desire as his tongue explored your mouth.

His hands moved through your hair, tangling themselves in its softness. His lips glided against yours, taking their time, savoring every moment of this electrifying connection (CORNYY). His hands traveled down your sides, slipping beneath your shirt and touching your bare skin. His fingers caressed your sides, sending shivers down your spine.

As the kiss continued, you pulled his hair gently, deepening the kiss further. His lips traced a path down your neck, stopping right below your ear. You felt his warm breath on your neck, and you couldn't help but lean your head back slightly, giving him greater access.

His hands continued to explore, traveling up your sides to your stomach. You felt his touch, gentle yet firm, igniting a fire within you that couldn't be extinguished. The sound of your heavy breathing filled the kitchen as the intensity between you grew.

He pressed your back firmly against the countertop, demonstrating his desire and control. His touch shifted, lifting your shirt and his fingers delicately brushed against your skin, stopping just above your pants. In a bold move, his hand moved up your side, cupping your breast, and softly squeezing. A gasp escaped your lips as you felt a surge of arousal coursing through your body.

He then moved his other hand down, reaching under your pants and feeling your bare ass. You responded eagerly, pressing your hips against his hand, urging him on. Your back now firmly against the counter, you were completely aware of his growing hardness pressing against your legs.

His hand roamed further, sliding under your panties to explore the wetness between your legs. His fingers skillfully caressed and teased, sending waves of pleasure through every inch of your being. Amidst the haze of desire and longing, he paused to speak, his voice breathy and filled with anticipation. "Mmm... are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, his lips finding yours again in a passionate kiss.

With a deep breath, you nodded eagerly, your body aching for his touch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ YOUR POV:

You felt his fingers, caressing your folds and rubbing against your clit. Your body aches for him to enter you, to feel his length pressing against your pussy, teasing you, begging to be entered. A moan escaped your lips, begging to be heard. "Please, Chris, don't stop!" you exclaimed.

He slowly removed your underwear, revealing your wetness to him. Slowly, he removed his fingers and pulled your panties down your legs, tossing them on the floor. He immediately put his hands on your hips and positioned himself behind you, kissing your neck and nibbling on your earlobe. His hands slowly traveled up your chest, cupping your breasts and rubbing his thumbs against your nipples. The warmth of his hands against your skin sent a wave of pleasure through your body.

He positioned himself behind you, kissing your neck and nibbling on your earlobe. His hands slowly traveled up your sides. He slides his pants and boxers down in one swift move, positioning his erection against your entrance. You felt his cock pressing against your slick entrance, begging for entrance.

"Put me inside you." he whispered, his voice filled with longing and desire.

"Okay..." you breathed, taking a deep breath and closing your eyes. You grab the base of his cock and roll your hips back against him. Once he gets inside you, He instantly starts pounding into you, not giving you time to adjust.

"FUCK" you moan loudly

"you like that?" he asked, a sly smile on his lips.

"Mmm... y-yeah..." you replied hesitantly, trying to gain your composure. "Good..." he said.

With each thrust, your hips hit the counter harshly, surly leaving bruises. “You don’t understand what you do to me y/n” Chris whispers in your ear, his hot breath hitting your neck.

You respond in a shaky voice, “I-I’m not doing anything.” “Please, don’t play innocent. You know you want this.” he said, a smirk on his face, “Yeah.. I want it..” you reply softly.

He positions himself behind you again, kissing your neck and nibbling on your earlobe. His hands reach your hips. As he begins to slam into you again, he positions his thumb against your clit. You moan loudly as he begins to rub your clit with his thumb, kneading it in small circles. You can feel yourself tighten and your body beginning to shake.

"Chris I'm gonna... Oh my god Chris I'm gonna.. aghh" you moan loudly, your body trembling and your pussy beginning to convulse around his cock.

"Cum for me baby " he whispers in your ear.

Your cunt tightens even more around his cock, squeezing him, your body shuddering as you ride out your orgasm. Your legs begin to buckle and Chris catches you, wrapping his arms around you tightly. He gently lays you on the counter and places himself between your legs. He pulls you towards him, turning you around quickly and wrapping one arm around your hip. He immediately sticks his cock into your pussy and begins pounding into you at an inhuman pace, overstimulating you

"Your pussy feels so fucking good. I can't stop fucking you y/n." he whispers in your ear.

You moan loudly, your body on fire from pleasure, your orgasm approaching. "fuck, gonna cum" he says as his cock throbs inside of you. You whimper as he pulls out but quickly gasp he shoots his cum all over your stomach and breasts while you cum as well. He bites his lip at the sight of your cum covered stomach.

He leans down and licks up some of your cum off your stomach before moving to the rest of your cum covered body up and down licking it off. He’s about to lick your pussy when you tell him “don’t get any inside me, I’m not on birth control”. He’s taken aback for a moment before he nods and grins. “I’ve been craving that taste since I first saw you” he says.

He eagerly licks up the outside of you, cleaning off your pussy juices from your lips and thighs. And the rest of your cum that’s there. “You know, if you want, you can come over again tomorrow. And the day after that… Or whenever you’re free” he says, smirking. "wow it's like i already dont do that" you say sarcastically.

The aftercare is lowkey the best part, especially with Chris. He’s caring and gentle with you, making sure you’re alright after the great sex you just had. And you couldn’t be happier either, especially right now. You can feel him inside you, his warmth, his scent, his touch. He grabs your hands, pulling you off the counter and into a standing position.

He helps you clean up, putting your clothes back on and gathering his clothes. He picks you up and brings you to his room.

yup WAYY better than the movie

#chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #smut #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you

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carry-on-my-wayward-butt · 2 months

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ceo & site go out to drive under moonlight. they stop at on at a side of road. he turn to his site and say: "baby, i love you very much"

"what is it honey?"

"our car is broken down. i think the engine is broken, ill walk and get some more fuel."

"ok. ill stay here and look after our gender. there have been news report of geners being stolen.”

"good idea. keep being transmisogynist no matter what. i love you sweaty"

so the ceo left to get full for the car. after two hours the site say "where is my baby, he was supposed to be back by now". then the site here a scratching sound and a voice say "WE STAY SILLY :3"

the site permabans as many transfems as possible and then after a while she goes to sleep. the next morning she wakes up and finds her ceo having a mental breakdown about getting his feelings hurt online. she gets out to check and man door hand hammer car explode

#op

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pillowbo · 1 month

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Wrestling me to my sheets, you are about to win our playfighting, but I play dirty. My fingers stroke your sides, and you laugh, losing your balance and falling onto your back for me to pin you by one wrist.

You reach up and feel my nipple through my binder. I bow forward, melting into your touch, but still keeping my grip around your other wrist.

Our bare thighs caress when I straddle you, and I've won. I move my hips and we barely brush at the apex of our legs. You pretend to strain against my grasp, but by the look on your face, you like this turn of events.

With one swift motion, I grab your other wrist and find the cuffs on the nightstand. The metal glints with a warm hue cast from the tealights in a row.

They clamp cold around your wrists and you are secured to the headboard at my complete mercy. You're so sweet like this for me I can't help myself; I cup your jaw and kiss you so tenderly, lowering myself over you and pressing our bodies together as we make out.

Fuck. The feel of your bulge pressed against my cunt is threatening to make me lose my composure and just rip your panties off now. Soft whimpers draw from my mouth as I rut into you, the friction against my briefs intoxicating.

I stop myself and heave, shockingly already at the edge so fast. I look at you, your lashes sweeping over eyes that show such vulnerability. My hands roam down hungrily to your hips, and they raise off of the bed in response.

I raise slightly with a smug grin.

Silly girl, with a tent in your striped panties that bring forth the image of a big top. Think I'm going to pull them off and relieve the pressure? No, we're nowhere near that.

You squirm when I kiss down your neck. I look up at you and you're biting your lip, stifling your whines, holding back from me. We're not having that.

I find the place that I know is tender and chuckle against the warm divot when I get an enthusiastic response. My kisses are hot and wet right there, eliciting those sweet whines and moans that send flames through my veins.

I lift up suddenly and push down on your chest when you protest.

Your whimpering for more ceases when I roll my binder over top of me, freeing my nipples that are so hard they can no longer stand to be restrained.

A noise catches in the back of your throat as you are now throbbing against my cunt. We're panting, my head dizzy, but I once again resist the urge to tear the rest of our clothes off and fuck you.

You begin to beg for it and it's so delicious it fuels me forward, wanting more to prolong your torment than I am focused on chasing my own release.

Making us both wait for it, just swirling in that pool of arousal, is just as good if not better than the sex itself. Don't you agree? I know you do, it's why you let me do this with you, let me tease you until you're crying with need.

I lower myself back to you and kiss your shoulder then down, taking in your scent. You're rutting up toward my mouth when I kiss down your stomach, twisting fitfully in the sheets.

You are openly begging for me to go down faster.

It's torture fuck it is, I want you but I continue my trail down devastatingly slow.

This is so much harder for me than it is for you, I tell you.

Your skin glistens with the want to be touched all over and I can't help myself, I lick at the place where your panties press into your thigh. You jump at the wetness and warmth.

All at once I am on your clothed, rock-hard dick with my tongue, flat licks up the front of your panties from the base to the tip, and you are wheezing.

It twitches beneath the fabric as I kiss it on the underside of your tip, and then I slow to a stop when it pulses under my lips.

I grab your balls and squeeze them, telling you to breathe.

You beg through shallow breaths and I'm on your dick again, with lighter touches with my lips and tongue than before.

Your please-fuck-mes and my name mesh together as they flow unfiltered from your mouth, on tap for my delight.

Your voice fills me with so much pleasure, it just makes me want to keep you in this torment forever; I tell you this before I give your dick one more kiss and I lift back over you, pressing our bodies together.

You better not dare come, I say then, and I grind my cunt on the base of your shaft.

I repeat this whole process several more times until we are both panting frantically, flushed and slick with sweat as if I've already pounded you through several orgasms.

Finally, I have decided that we're ready. Without warning I grab your ass and lift your hips, pulling your panties down your thighs, so wet as they roll all the way down.

Your yeses blending with my name makes me laugh through my heavy breaths, even sweeter to my ears than your desperate begging.

My hands shake as I peel off my briefs, my cunt throbbing and hot. I press it down onto your shaft and grind into you, finally naked as we touch.

You cry out as you come almost immediately. I'm quick to join you, pummeling your twitching, pulsing dick that unloads onto our stomachs and screaming your name as I come hard and squirt violently on you.

I am not done.

My lovely girl, I tell you through ragged breaths, you were so good, I am going to reward you now by teaching you how to get a dick wet.

I reach for our nightstand again and pull out my strap. I stick the bulb end inside while I am still coming down from that first high and you are watching me in anticipation.

Maybe a little bit of anxiety in your eyes.

I ask you if you are okay and you say yes, and I remind you to use our word if you are not.

You say okay.

Such a good girl for me, I say.

I use your ejaculate to lube up my strap, scooping some off of your stomach and stroking up and down the base to the tip while you watch wide-eyed.

I grip your asscheeks and lift up your hips, then I scoop up more of your essence and finger your hole. You moan deep in your throat as I slowly stretch you out.

I line up my wet strap to your entrance, gasping at your high whine as I slowly enter you.

I check in once again if you're okay.

The last thing I want to do is hurt you.

You practically yell at me to fuck you.

I laugh in surprise, then groan low as I push down on your chest and I push in and out, clumsy at first. I gasp at the sensation, pulled into a rhythm as instinct takes over.

You throw your head back with a sensual moan. Fuck it. I pick up the pace, and soon I am pounding you hard, crying out into your shoulder as a second orgasm wracks my body.

I keep going through my spasms. I need you so bad. I need to touch and taste and smell you like the air that I breathe. I need to know and memorize every inch of you, my love.

I fuck your ass until ropes of your come splash on my stomach and chest. Your eyes roll back and you jump as I grab your dick and pump you for more and more.

You say it's too much, you're so sensitive, but you love being pushed past the point where the pleasure becomes torment. It's why you let me win, why you let me cuff you, why you haven't said our word as I pound in and out of you until I come shaking and yelling.

I can't get enough! I tell you as I bring us both to white hot pleasure again and again and again.

The candles slowly burn down and the room goes dark with puffs of smoke, burning us both down with eternal desire.

#t4t #transmasc4transfem #trans nsft #queer nsft #transmasc nsft #transfem nsft #overstim nsft #denial kink #edging nsft #strap #rutting #grinding #t4t nsft #st4t #straight t4t #transhet

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wishluc · 10 months

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Hi there! Can I request a Yandere headcanons of Kafka and Himeko?

I don't do headcanons sorry!

Content Warnings: stalking, implied kidnapping & imprisonment

As you watch Himeko leave the ship, the sight of her captivating smile and the warm grasp of her hand around yours is burned into your memory, bright and blazing like her presence. Something inside you shrivels up as she walks away, yearning for her warmth again, and you can feel yourself visibly deflate once she's completely out of sight, the rhythmic clacking of her heels completely faded into the background. You close your eyes and try to recall the sensation of her lips against your skin, but your mind can't conjure the same feelings despite the image still evident. Even the stars around you seem to dim after her absence.

"Well, what's got you looking so down?"

Kafka walks out from behind you, her steps slow and purposeful as she regards you with an uncharacteristically stiff smile. Dread washes over you as you realize she must have seen the entire meeting, and you internally berate yourself for not noticing sooner.

"Nothing." "Mm, is that so? You're going to hurt my feelings, darling," she says, her voice devoid of any of her usual airiness, and her usual smile lacking its charming quirk, "not sure I quite like being second place. "

She cocks her head to the side, her eyes looking frighteningly dark despite the lights around her, "But I especially dislike being treated as a fool."

You flinch back, hands gripping the railing almost painfully tight now, "I wasn't— Himeko isn't—"

"Oh, so it's Himeko now?" She sighs, her tone dripping with faux sorrow—beneath it, you catch a tinge of something more bitter, more resentful, even— "My, and here I thought we had something special."

"We don't have anything," you correct her, "...were you watching the whole time?"

Her sharp smile is all the answer you need, "you're losing your touch, dearest, if you couldn't tell I was here. Or were you just looking for an excuse to give you more training?"

You roll your eyes in reply, but some part of you is unsettled by her confession. Even if you had been too distracted to realize, Himeko is far too clever and observant to let something like that slide. She should have noticed the additional presence immediately, but didn't.

Or maybe she wanted Kafka to stay.

The two of them, you were aware, weren't on the best terms. You had always chalked it up to their differences in ideology and reputation, but recently, you've started noticing that your presence seemed to fuel their antagonism in some way; feeding into the flames of their rivalry.

Himeko, like Kafka, was always planning ahead; planning her next destination, her next expedition. You had seen her in action yourself; standing behind her as she gazed on ahead, and later positioned beside her as she pointed out the station you were heading to, so you were certain there was rarely an occurrence she didn't account for.

"I really didn't know," you admit, soft enough so only she could hear, "otherwise, I wouldn't have..."

"You really need to stop with the excuses. It really isn't helping your case—especially since they're all lies," she puts put a finger to your lips, causing you to swallow your protests, "none of that, now."

"Honestly, I'm not that bothered by your silly games," she declares, filling you with uneasiness, "and lucky for you, I happen to like challenges."

It should be a good thing, that she's not too upset by your meeting with Himeko, but you know better than to take anything Kafka says too lightly.

"Kafka," you say, desperately trying to appease her, "you know I'm not leaving you. I can't, even if I wanted to."

It's the truth, for once—you could try to hop off the ship when Kafka was away, but she had long latched one of her colleagues onto you like some kind of terrifying guard dog, and you had no intention of testing just how dedicated he was to his post. Besides, even if you were to leave, you had no doubt that she'd find a way to track you down and drag you back.

At the very least, the statement earns genuine laughter from her.

A gloved hand rests on your back, and Kafka moves closer to you, "Terrible little thing you are, darling," you find some comfort in realizing that there's actual amusement hidden in her words, "I don't think you know how much you mean to me."

No, and you probably won't ever know, but your verbal assent isn't the response she anticipates, so you remain silent.

"Terrible," she mutters, her other hand cupping your cheek, "but all mine, aren't you?"

all works © wishluc. do not copy, steal or repost my works on other platforms. (including translations)

#yandere hsr x reader #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere kafka #yandere kafka x reader #hsr kafka #kafka x reader #yandere honkai #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #kafka. 🌀#honkai star rail. 🌀#mail. 🌀#yandere x reader #cw yandere #asa.writes 🌀#drabble request v01. 🌀#requested work. 🌀#drabble. 🌀

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jinkoh · 2 months

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lip gloss

younghoon x fem!reader

summary: younghoon really likes your lip gloss. what he doesn't like is the silly bet his friends made about you...

tags: strangers to friends to lovers, secret relationship (kinda), fluff, a little jealousy, alternating povs, clothes sharing (v briefly), SFW

wordcount: ~4,8k

a/n: who would have thought i'm coming back after a writer's block with a completely new group--certainly not me lol 🤡 i have accidentally developed an obsession with the lip gloss mv and spent an ungodly amount of time watching it

this is my first time writing for tbz (and i also don't know them that well yet) so pls be kind 👉🏻👈🏻

also this fic is entirely to be blamed on @blizzardfluffykpop bc we came up with the idea together. thanks for brainrotting with me, kate ❤️

Masterlist

Younghoon liked his friends, he really did. It was just that at times he had to remind himself of the fact. Like now, when they were making yet another stupid bet among themselves, fueled as so often by the never ending quarrel between the beach volleyball players and the surfers. Younghoon wasn’t a surfer but neither did he play beach volleyball, except for the rare occasions when they were missing a man, so he usually got out of these antics fine without picking a side. Still, this time the guys were being too much. Younghoon had already turned to Sangyeon in hopes of ending this nonsense, but to his utter disappointment even Sangyeon was in on this, confidently nodding along that his team would win.

It wasn’t that Younghoon didn’t understand the temptation—who wouldn’t want an excuse to talk to you? You’d caught his attention too when he’d come to the beach a few days ago. It was starting to get hot, spring slowly turning into summer, and the owner of the little beach bar had decided it was time to kick off the season. Instead of him though, someone else was manning the bar. You had an arm propped up on the counter and mindlessly scrolled on your phone. Younghoon couldn’t blame you, the bar wasn’t usually busy until later so it wasn’t like you had anything better to do. Without paying it any mind, he jogged down the beach to the volleyball net where he knew to find the others, the girl from the bar quickly forgotten over a very imbalanced game. In fact he didn’t think of you again until he walked back to the bar to get some soda for everyone. There still weren’t any customers around, but instead of doom scrolling you’d taken out some lip gloss, using your phone’s camera as a mirror as you swiftly applied it to your lower lip. He felt he shouldn’t be watching this, but he also couldn’t look away. There was something so captivating about this scene. Just when you were smacking your lips together (twice) you seemed to have noticed his gaze. You looked up with surprise in your eyes before giving him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, didn’t see you there. What can I get you?” The gloss made your lips look shiny. Maybe he had already been a goner then.

So, it really wasn't that he didn't understand. But betting on who’d get your number first seemed a bit much and, frankly, kind of rude too. There was no stopping them though, but perhaps he could at least give you a little warning?

He got up from where everyone was sitting on the sand, just far enough from the shore to not get wet, and jogged back to the wooden path that led further up the beach and to the bar.

“Where are you going?” Eric yelled behind him. “Not getting a head start, are you?”

Younghoon huffed a laugh. “What makes you think I’d join a silly bet like that?”

Eric grinned. “Scared of even trying, huh?”

“Mhm, sure.”

With a shake of his head he walked the last few meters to the bar, where he sat down on one of the stools at the counter. Once more, it was empty despite being late at night, but he supposed not everyone had the freedom to come out here this late on a weekday.

“So,” you turned to him with a mischievous grin, before he could even say anything. “What kind of bet were you talking about?”

He ran his hands through his hair. “You heard that?”

“Was hard not to.”

“I’m not sure you really want to know.”

“I don’t care either way. But you guys have been stealing glances at the bar this whole time—you better not do anything that will get me in trouble with the boss.”

“They wouldn’t,” Younghoon didn’t hesitate to reply. Sure, they were silly and stupid at times, but they wouldn’t put someone’s job on the line for funsies. “But they also weren’t exactly looking at the bar.”

“They weren’t, huh?” You grinned and Younghoon couldn’t help but notice the shimmer of your lip gloss.

“It’s your number,” he said, tearing his eyes away from your lips. “They want your number.”

You nodded slowly, looking more amused than offended. There was a challenging glint in your eyes. “So, you think getting my number is silly?”

The question caught him off guard so his reply came out a little too slow to be smooth. “No, that’s far from silly. Just betting on it is.”

“Hmm, how do I know you’re not secretly in on it though?”

“Why would I butcher my chances by telling you about the bet then?”

You leaned over the counter a bit, propping up your head with your closed hand. “Maybe this is your strategy to appear upright and honest?”

He stifled a laugh. “Well, I’m honest. I don’t know about the rest.”

“Fair enough.”

Younghoon didn’t get your number that night, but neither did anyone else and that gave him a little satisfaction. He’d offered to try and talk them out of it again, but you’d declined. “No,” you’d said with a grin. “I wanna see them try. It sounds fun.”

He thought he possibly liked more about you than just your lip gloss.

The guys went all out. Some attempts didn’t seem too bad while others gave him a strong sense of secondhand embarrassment. But you seemed to be having fun with it, so who was he to intervene? And maybe, just maybe, he liked the way you’d throw him knowing glances from time to time, sharing a secret only for the two of you to know.

Yet, he wondered if maybe one of them would manage to sway your heart—he’d seen Kevin steal you away during your break earlier, to take you to the wooden jump tower near the cliffs. He liked to boast about his diving, and from the way Younghoon could hear you laughing from afar you seemed to be having fun. He stalled for a moment, watching how you were sitting on the pier, your feet dangling in the water. When Kevin pushed himself up with his arms to get onto the pier next to you, you playfully shoved him back, making him go under with a splash. He was laughing when he came back up, and so were you. That was a good thing, right? You were having fun. You already knew the thing with the bet too, so if you liked Kevin in spite of that then who was Younghoon to interfere? Kevin was a good guy anyway, and bet or not he seemed genuinely interested. No, there shouldn’t be any problem.

And yet, Younghoon felt bitter about it, a greedy part of him wishing he could have that laugh all to himself.

“So, can I have your number? In case I need a buddy to go diving with again sometime?” Kevin grinned up at you from the water, brushing back his wet hair. It reminded you of Younghoon, the way he’d run his hand through his hair every few minutes, pushing it out of his forehead just for it to fall right back into place. Maybe you should buy him some bobby pins—probably not. After all, you liked when he did that.

“Is that smile a yes?” Kevin pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Huh? Ah, sorry, left my phone at the bar,” you both knew it was just an excuse, but Kevin didn’t seem particularly offended. He swam over to the pier, resting his arms on the wooden board and propping up his chin.

“What has you so happy then?”

“Nothing much. Just a friend.”

“I can be a friend too,” he replied playfully.

“Sure, friend,” you easily agreed, ignoring the flirty undertone that defeated the meaning of his words. Friends you could do.

To be honest, your expectations for this summer had been low. You didn't know anyone in this small town aside from your uncle and even though you had a good relationship with him, you could picture better ways to spend the hot season than helping out at his bar. To your surprise though, you were slowly starting to enjoy your time here. When you’d first heard of the bet it hadn’t left the best impression, but seeing them try so hard to impress you was a little cute and despite everything they seemed like sweet, genuine guys. And the fact that you knew about the bet made it pretty fun to watch the spectacle, even more so since you had someone to share mischievous smiles about it with. It felt like you were partners in crime, a secret friendship blooming between the two of you that had no real reason to be secret aside from the thrill of it all.

You weren’t the fondest of riding the bicycle. In fact, back at home you didn’t even own one. You lived in the next bigger town and you got around just fine using public transport. That seemed unthinkable here though, with two buses running a day—one in the morning and one at night. So, if you didn’t want to walk everywhere, you had to make do with your cousin’s old bicycle that he’d used before he’d moved out for college. It was a little rattly but it was holding up pretty well—or at least that had been the case until today. You weren’t sure what exactly happened, but suddenly the counter pressure when pedaling had disappeared, and you’d almost fallen forward over the bicycle’s handlebars. Now you were standing at the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, not even half way back to your uncle’s place with no reception and a chain that was just loosely hanging off the gears. It being night didn’t really help you to feel better about it all. While you knew it was probably safer here than in some street downtown that was bustling with drunk people, it still felt scarier, the tall trees along the road looming over you. Begrudgingly you pushed the bicycle forward, the lamp flickering weakly and barely doing anything to lighten up the path ahead.

In the distance, you heard the sound of an engine approaching, and the thought of coming across someone on this deserted street made your stomach churn with dread. A brief glance behind you told you it was a motorcycle, the headlight almost a little blinding in the darkness. Just before it went past you, you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping it would go by fast. You wanted to let out a relieved breath once it did, but then you heard the motor stopping only a few meters ahead. Your eyes snapped open, panic rushing through your veins as you watched the driver get off. Your grip around the handle bars tightened, making your knuckles turn white. You made a point of not looking at the guy, even when he came closer, but then you heard a familiar voice.

“Y/n? You good?”

You raised your gaze in time to see him take off his helmet. He shook out his black hair before pushing it out of his forehead the way he always did.

“Younghoon.” Relief washed over you.

“Sorry, did I frighten you?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“So, what happened?” He took an examining look at your bicycle. “Chain came off?”

You shrugged helplessly. “Whatever you say.”

He nodded slowly, running his hand through his hair once more. “I can fix that for you.”

“Really?”

“It’s pretty simple. But maybe something for daylight. Let me give you a ride home and we’ll come back for it tomorrow?”

You glanced over to the motorcycle that was waiting a little ahead and then back to Younghoon. Your expression must have been weary because he grinned. “Don’t worry I have a spare helmet. And I’m a safe driver too.”

“I wasn’t doubting you.”

“It’s fine if you were.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Mhm, sure,” he stepped a little closer, putting the helmet on for you and closing the fastener under your chin. Your breath caught when his fingers brushed against your skin, the feeling lingering despite the fleetingness of the touch. “Ready to go?”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat, trying to get a grip of yourself. “Just a—let me just—,” instead of finishing your sentence you just gestured towards your bicycle instead. He huffed a laugh and watched as you pushed it further to the side and leaned it against a tree in safe distance to the road. Once you’d locked it, you turned back around to Younghoon who was still looking at you.

“Ready,” you croaked.

He smiled, and despite the darkness of the night you could see the small crinkles forming in the corners of his eyes. “Good.”

You walked the few meters to his bike in silence and you thought there was an odd tension there. Or maybe you were just nervous about the ride, you reasoned with yourself. He got out his spare helmet, pushing his hair out of his forehead once more before putting it on. With ease he swung his leg over the machine before patting the leather of the seat behind him. You got on too, certainly looking a lot less dignified than he did and shuffled back as far as you could to bring some distance between the two of you. Before starting the motor, he looked back at you once more. “Hold on tight.” Unsure what exactly to hold onto, you clung to the edges of the seat, your nails digging into the leather.

He didn’t drive too fast, surely out of consideration for you, but you still couldn’t help but feel a little anxious. When he hit a small bump in the road, you let out a shriek, your arms instinctively letting go of the seat to wrap around his waist instead. You held on tight, the distance you’d made sure of before completely forgotten. Once you’d recovered from the brief shock though, you wondered if this was okay or if you’d overstepped. But Younghoon didn’t say anything about it and you didn’t want to let go again, not when you felt so safe with your arms wrapped around him.

The ride was over way too quickly, and you almost wished you’d given him wrong directions when he stopped in front of your uncle’s house. Chances of him catching on would have probably been high though, considering he was from here while you were just here for the summer.

“Are you sure it’s this one?” Younghoon said, after he’d taken off his helmet, looking at the house questioningly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I just didn’t know you were related to the owner.”

“He’s my uncle,” you explained matter of factly. “But how do you know he lives here?”

Younghoon chuckled. “This is a pretty small town, you know?”

“Right,” you nodded. You took your helmet off too, awkwardly holding it out for him to take. “So, uh, thanks for the ride.”

He tore his gaze away from the house to meet yours. “Was my pleasure.” There was that sweet smile again, making your heart melt. You smacked your lips together, the way you did when applying lipstick—a nervous habit of yours. His gaze flickered to the movement before wandering back up to your eyes. There was something there. He took a small step towards you, just a few inches but it felt like he was suddenly way up in your personal space. You thought he was going to kiss you, but he didn't move. Instead he just kept looking at you with an unreadable expression.

Unable to hold eye contact, you lowered your head, staring at your feet instead. “I should go inside then.”

“Mhm, you should. I’ll pick you up tomorrow? Is around noon good?”

“Pick me up?”

He chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “Your bicycle, remember?”

“Oh, of course. Noon is good. Should I give you my number? Maybe you can text me fifteen minutes or so before you’ll be here tomorrow?”

“Not worried that this is all just part of my scheme to win the bet?” His voice was quiet and yet there was a cockiness to it that made your heart race.

"Shut up." It was a weak comeback, but it put a grin on Younghoon's face. His gaze dropped to your lips once more before coming back up.

"Make me."

Your eyes widened in surprise, caught off guard by the bold implication of his words. You swallowed around the lump in your throat, your whole body was thrumming with nerves. Your gaze flickered to his lips. You inched closer. That's what he'd meant right? You wouldn't be overstepping if you kissed him now, right? You looked up into his eyes, just to be sure that you weren't misunderstanding things. But right when you did, he cupped your jaw with his hand, pulling you in until his lips crashed into yours.

Kissing him felt so natural, it was as if all your secret smiles and shared grins had naturally led up to this moment. You kissed him until you felt breathless and even then you were reluctant to pull away. When you finally did, he didn't let you go too far, his thumb drawing patterns on your cheek and his eyes taking in every inch of your face.

"I think I should really go now," you eventually broke the silence when you couldn't endure it anymore.

"Okay," he whispered.

"Okay," you repeated. "I'll see you around noon."

Younghoon couldn’t stop himself from smiling on the whole ride home. You'd forgotten to give him your number, but he felt that it didn't really matter anymore. He could just ask you again tomorrow. After all, he'd gotten something way better tonight. He recalled the way your arms had held onto him tightly on the ride and your tousled hair after you’d taken off the helmet. Mostly, he recalled how warm your lips had felt against his. He couldn’t wait to see you again.

The chain was back on in a matter of seconds. Younghoon looked as if he’d done it a zillion times before.

“And you couldn’t have done that last night?” You asked from where you were standing next to him, watching as he wiped his fingers on a cloth. Nothing had happened since he'd picked you up and you'd driven back to your bicycle together. You almost wondered if it was all an odd fever dream and he didn’t actually kiss you.

“I did say it was easy," He admitted simply, "But it’s always better to check everything with proper lighting rather than letting you ride home on a potentially broken bicycle. Can’t risk you getting hurt, can we?"

It was just common decency but somehow the way he said it, looking up at you with a cheeky grin, made your heart skip a beat and your cheeks flush. You avoided his gaze, your focus falling onto his jaw instead. “You have a little—” you motioned to your own face, trying to mirror where he’d stained his skin with grease just below the jaw line. He tried to wipe it away with the back of his hand, his grin traded for something more innocent. “There?”

The scene captivated you a little too much, thoughts of touching that jaw, of pulling him into a kiss circling your mind. In your daze, it took you a second to snap out of it. “Yeah,” you mumbled, not really paying attention. "There."

Younghoon thoroughly made sure the bicycle was safe to ride and only then started to pack up his tools. You watched as he diligently put them away.

“How come you know how to do this?” you eventually broke the silence.

“What, putting a chain back on?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm,” he shrugged. “I like fixing things. And it comes in handy too, doesn’t it?” He said the last bit with a smile that you couldn’t help but return.

“Yeah, it does. Thanks again.”

He got up and dusted off his pants. “It’s nothing. Call me if something happens again.”

“I will.” Your gaze followed him as he walked back to his bike, getting his helmet from where it hung off the handle bars. He didn't put it on just yet, taking a quick glance at the wing mirror first.

“You lied!” He complained in mocked offense, before turning back around to you. He wore a pout, his finger pointing at the grease stain that was still right there below his jaw line.

You giggled. “What can I say, I’m neither upright nor honest.”

Younghoon grinned and walked back over to you, his helmet still in his hand. "Is that so?" He asked as he stepped back into your personal space. You took a tiny step towards him too, closely watching his reaction. That grin was still there. With a racing heart you tugged the cloth out from where he had messily shoved it into his pocket. Then you reached up to his jaw, slowly wiping at the grease stain until it was gone. The whole time, Younghoon was watching you intently, your eyes, your nose your lips—

You lowered your hand when you were done, but he caught your wrist to stop you from going too far.

"Thanks." His voice was barely a whisper. Your eyes flickered to his mouth.

"You're welcome," you replied just as quietly, inching just the tiniest bit closer. You felt his breath on your skin and then his lips on yours, again and again and again.

Things between the two of you felt exciting and new and good—but there was also this looming uncertainty. Younghoon knew what it meant to him. But what about you? What was all this to you? Even though he didn't want to delude himself, he couldn't help hoping that this, that he was special to you. The secret smiles you exchanged started to feel a little different, like there was a little more. And there was: the two of you were texting a lot now that you'd exchanged numbers and you often came down to the beach earlier to hang out with him on the old lighthouse before your shift. You weren’t doing that for the other guys. Your gaze also didn't linger on them the way it did on him, no matter how much they pestered you. And of course you weren't kissing them either. That was, as far as he knew, reserved for him alone. That made it easy to endure when you were laughing and joking around with the guys. Except at times, you'd glance over to him with a cocky grin. Almost as if you wanted to make sure he was watching, as if you wanted to purposely rile him up. It made him want to walk over and kiss you right there in front of them, but you hadn't talked about these things yet and you seemed to enjoy the thrill of hide and seek. So, kissing was only allowed for when you were alone with no one to see.

Consequently he was keeping a low profile, sitting in the sand with some of the others and pretending not to watch from afar how Changmin and Juyeon were leaning on the counter, competing for your attention. Eventually he tore his gaze away to focus on the conversation in front of him instead, which only got interrupted when Jacob remarked that Changmin and Juyeon must have been unsuccessful, as they were coming back down to the beach. You on the other hand were not behind the bar anymore, a small sign indicating that it was closed for now. A feeling of worry started to spread in his guts. Did something happen? Did they make you feel uncomfortable? He knew his friends were good guys and wouldn’t ever intentionally do that, but just because it wasn't their intention didn't mean it couldn’t happen. Maybe it was nothing, but he just needed to make sure you were okay.

Without thinking further he got up from the sand, jogging past Changmin and Juyeon who looked at him in confusion, and up to the bar. You weren't anywhere to be found though, the little door locked and the space behind the counter empty. The other only place he could come up with was the lighthouse, so he made his way there, hurrying up the spiral staircase until he got to you, sitting in the middle of the steps and munching on a sandwich. You looked up at him in surprise as he stood before you, breathing a little heavy, but a smile spreading on his lips. He chuckled. He should have known he was worrying for nothing.

"You're on break?"

"Mhm," you nodded and scooted over a bit, making space for you to sit with him. "What's the hurry for?"

There was a little sauce on your upper lip. He reached out to wipe it away and you simply let him.

"I don't know, I was wondering if you're fine."

"Why wouldn't I be?'

He shrugged. He didn't know either, after all you'd never been uncomfortable with the boys' advances. Maybe he was the only one who felt that way.

You leaned in a little closer, bumping your shoulder against his with a cheeky grin. "Or were you maybe jealous?"

With a huffed laugh he met your gaze. "What if I was?"

He thought he saw your cheeks flush when you focused back on your sandwich. "Maybe I'd like that."

It was late, around midnight, and you listened to the sound of the waves as you sat side by side in the sand. The bar was still open, but your uncle had taken on the night shift, giving you the freedom to spend your time out here, away from people. You hear the music and laughter from afar and if you turned around you'd see the colorful string lights too, but you much preferred the view of the ocean in front of you. At least for now.

Younghoon was sitting close to you, his hand just barely touching yours. You wondered if he was cold in his white tee while you were all wrapped up in his cozy hoodie. You inched closer, intertwining your fingers and pulling his hand into your lap. Maybe you could at least keep his arm warm. He turned to look at you with a smile, before running his free hand through his hair.

"The boys would hate this," he said with a chuckle.

"Would they really?" Your voice sounded more serious than intended. You knew it was just an offhand comment, but it made you wonder if that could be a dealbreaker for him. You knew he treasured his friends.

He considered for a moment. "Only if I'm not serious. They care about you, you know."

"So, are you? Serious?"

"Yeah." He didn't shy away from your gaze. "I'm serious."

You squeezed his hand in yours and he squeezed right back and even though it was such a small gesture it gave you butterflies. He was serious about you, about this. With flushed cheeks and a smile tugging at your lips, you leaned your head against his shoulder. You sat like that for a while, back to listening to the waves.

"Maybe we should end their bet," you eventually mumbled. "Since they already lost." You could imagine the surprise on their face if you were to tell them.

"Mhm, we should," he rested his head against yours, "but not now. Let's stay here a little longer."

"Yeah, let's."

"That actually makes so much sense," Eric exclaimed dramatically, after you'd told them a few days later. "How else would you have resisted my charm?"

Changmin huffed a laugh. "Right, because you're so irresistible."

"Hey–"

"Anyway," Sangyeon interrupted, "that means the bet is off."

Sunwoo looked at him with a raised eyebrow, casually resting his arm on Younghoon's shoulder. "You're only saying that because you've lost. Younghoon is clearly on team beach volleyball. He just joined in on a game the other day."

Eric shook his head and formed an X with his arms. "Nope, no, he clearly said he wasn't joining."

Younghoon rolled his eyes at their antics, wondering if he should say something to make them shut up. But then he met your amused gaze and decided to leave it be.

"What was the wager anyway?" You asked him quietly.

Younghoon shrugged as he intertwined his fingers with yours. "I have no idea."

You giggled. He liked the sound of it and the happy glint in your eyes. He also liked the shimmer of your lip gloss.

no tbz masterlist (edit: nvmnd here it is) but feel free to check out my other works if you liked this or leave a follow to keep up with future works~

#younghoon x reader #younghoon x fem!reader #younghoon fluff #the boyz x reader #tbz x reader #kpop scenarios #the boyz imagines #the boyz fanfic #kebbis.writing

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c-e-d-dreamer · 9 months

Text

My Heart of Stone

A/N: We pause Regency Cassian to bring you baby's first monsterfucking fic. The unofficial extra prompt for @cassianappreciationweek ;) That's right, lovelies. It's time for Gargoyle Cassian! It case it wasn't clear, this fic is monsterfucking. It's very NSFW and the consent is a bit dubious at the beginning before Nesta full sends into getting her world rocked (pun intended). If that's not for you, that's okay. Also, make sure you check out the amazing, beautiful, showstopping art @krem-does-stuff did for me of Gargoyle Cassian :)

Read on AO3

Nesta throws all of her weight against the door until it swings open, the old metal creaking in its hinges as it gives way. She stumbles out into the crisp, night air, the breeze skating across her cheeks, prickling her skin, until she has to fight back a shiver. As she steps further away from the door, deeper into the shadows of the night, she tries to take deep, heaving breaths, but the air stutters in her lungs with every inhale, and Nesta wraps her arms tightly around herself, squeezing her eyes shut and counting to five. To ten. To twenty.

When her heart finally quiets from an erratic thunder to a dull roar, she opens her eyes again, tipping her head back and toward the sky. It’s a beautiful, clear night, inky streaks of indigo and a blanket of twinkling stars. A full moon that spotlights down onto the city below. Nesta knows that she should appreciate it. Wishes that she could appreciate it. But her skin still feels stretched too tight on her bones, her chest aching with the bruised remains of her battered heart.

Curse her father. Curse his party. And curse Tomas fucking Mandray. She knew that he would be there. Of course, the Mandrays had been there. Their name carried weight in this city, and they were family friends. Old money traditions and values died hard, especially as the years went on. But Nesta had still hoped, had kept that glimmer alive after she spoke with her father on the phone last week.

Now, she just feels stupid. Silly. Crazy. That was the new word Tomas slung at her tonight. She still remembers the smug look that peeled across his face when he spotted her across the room. Still remembers the alcohol on his breath when he cornered her outside the bathroom.

Crazy.

She was crazy for walking away from him. Crazy for thinking that she could break up with him. She knows it was the right decision, leaving him. She knows that she’s better than Tomas, and certainly deserves better than the way he treated her. But that doesn’t stop all his words from continuing to echo inside Nesta’s mind, even all these months later. They twist like dark vines until the thorns pierce skin, until the darkness squeezes in and she feels like she’s drowning, every scream filling her lungs with more water.

Who else could ever love a bitch like you?

Nesta digs the heels of her palms against her eyes and swallows hard, but there’s no escaping those grating words. Their roots burrow deep and twine with every other dark thought, every other insecurity that’s been chasing her since her mother first decided to make Nesta her favorite project. Like a sea in a raging storm, the thoughts crash relentlessly, and Nesta can feel heat beginning to prickle at the back of her eyes in response.

Anger is hot on its heels, burning red hot through her veins. It’s an emotion she grasps onto with both hands, holding it close to her chest and letting it fuel her. She hates those thoughts. Hates what her mother made her go through as a child. Hates her father. Hates Tomas Mandray. Nesta turns and kicks at the roof door in her frustration, the clang of metal echoing in the night air.

Letting out a satisfied huff, she stalks over to the northern side of the roof, to the gargoyle waiting for her there. She sits down on the corner of the ledge the gargoyle is perched on, leaning so that her cheek presses against the cool stone that makes up the gargoyle’s arm. With a soft sigh, she lets her eyes fall closed again, just taking a moment to finally breathe.

“You love me, don’t you?”

Unsurprisingly, there’s no response, and Nesta truly does feel crazy for even uttering the words aloud, for asking that question to a fucking gargoyle of all things. Even still, it does make her feel a bit better, has some of those knots buried deep within her lessening and unfurling. Something about this roof, about sitting here beside this gargoyle has always seemed to help her. It’s the one place she feels like she can breathe. The one place she feels safe enough to cry.

In a way, it had almost been the gargoyles that first drew her into this apartment building. She still remembers the day she first came to view the open apartment here, when she had peered up against the glare of the afternoon sun and seen the gargoyles high overhead. Four of them, each facing a different direction. For a moment, staring up at them from the ground, Nesta had sworn some long sleeping beast deep in her soul had perked up, sworn she’d felt some subtle tug in the space between her ribs.

Whatever it was, it had led her inside. Led her to signing the lease. Led her to following those rickety stairs up to the roof access door once her boxes were all unloaded. Luckily, the questionable stairs meant that most of the other tenants in the building didn’t bother, so more often than not, Nesta finds herself up on the roof alone. It’s how she prefers it, and she supposes, technically, she’s not really alone, if you count the four massive stone gargoyles.

That first day up on the roof, Nesta had taken the time to examine each one of the gargoyles. She had been surprised to find that each was different, having expected a simple matching set. The ones that face north and south each have large, arching wings furled along their back and shoulders, while the other two gargoyles don’t. The gargoyle that faces east, toward the rising sun, is carved so there’s long hair hanging around the face, but there’s also gashes across the left side from eyebrow to cheek, almost as if the sculptor’s hand slipped with the chisel. And the gargoyle that faces west, toward the setting sun and darkness, seems to have some sort of intricately carved design on his knees.

But Nesta’s personal favorite is the one that faces north, toward the mountains. Even made of stone, the gargoyle is so large somehow, all perfect carved lines. Sometimes, she’ll trace her finger along stone, along the cut of the gargoyle's wide shoulders and down the lines of his bicep. She can’t help but marvel at how the sculptor was able to so perfectly mimic the ripple of muscle, how much love and care must have gone into creating the statue. She'll follow along the slightly raised lines of whirling stone that she's sure are meant to represent tattoos and imagine a slow and steady hand chiseling away.

If she's feeling particularly daring, she'll reach up to the gargoyle's face, slide the pad of her finger along the line of his jaw, up his cheek. The hair is another artistic marvel, made to look like curling waves that tumble around the face and to the shoulders. The gargoyle has his face tipped down, knelt on one knee over the edge of the building, as though he's bowing before some unseen queen, pledging his sword and ready to worship at her feet.

Nesta lets out another soft sigh as the breeze wafts over her again, filling her senses with the scent of a roaring fire, of pine, of the wind right before it snows. It has a shiver skittering up her spine that has nothing to do with the cool, night air. For a moment, her heart skips a beat in her chest, a small voice in the back of her mind suddenly alert and clambering for attention in her consciousness. She swears that she can almost feel eyes on her, boring right into her, but she hasn’t heard the loud creak of the roof door opening again the whole time she’s been up here.

The stone beneath Nesta’s cheek starts to slide, and her eyes snap open in a panic. Her hands scramble for the ledge, grip tightening to knuckle white as she tries to hold herself steady and regain her balance. But after a moment, Nesta realizes she’s not falling. In fact, she’s not even the one moving. It’s the stone beside her.

Nesta leaps to her feet, her heart lodging firmly in her throat. She already feels the loss like a gaping wound in her chest, the disappointment settling like a stone in her stomach, at what she knows is going to happen. Her gargoyle, her favorite gargoyle is going to go toppling over, and it’s going to be all her fault for leaning against it.

Nesta squeezes her eyes shut, unwilling to watch the disaster unfold. She waits for the crashing sound of stone shattering across the concrete below, but it never comes. Slowly, Nesta opens her eyes again, only to find her gargoyle still there. Except, where the gargoyle’s wings had been carved so they were tucked in tight, they’re now unfurled, stretched wide across the roof. It happens almost in slow motion, the gargoyle standing up from his knelt position, turning around and pinning his gaze right on Nesta.

She’s not breathing. Her limbs feel frozen in shock, in fear, and Nesta can do nothing but gape at the gargoyle now standing before her. The hair she had marveled at falls in dark strands to his shoulders, the curls rustling across his face in the breeze. They cut shadows across the strong line of his jaw, the scar etched through his right eyebrow, and Nesta realizes that his eyes are a piercing shade of hazel, sparking green and gold beneath the light of the full moon.

At least she was right about the tattoos. Whirls of black ink are etched across the golden brown skin of his chest, his shoulders. They weave their way down his arm all the way to his wrists. Down to his claws. Despite his large frame, despite the wide set shoulders and the bulk of muscle, looking at his face, Nesta could almost pretend he was human. But there’s no denying it with those claws. With the massive, purple wings that loom just behind his shoulders. With the tail that swishes out from behind his legs.

“Nesta.”

The gargoyle speaking her name, his voice a deep timbre that seems to rumble from deep within his chest, is enough to jolt her back to herself and into action. She whirls around and runs for the roof door, but the gargoyle lands right in front of her, those purple wings splayed wide and blocking her path. Nesta stumbles back before she can crash right into him, her heart thundering away in her chest. Now that they’re standing on equal ground, she can see just how tall he is, having to crane her head up just to keep her gaze on his.

“Why do you run from me, my mate?” the gargoyle asks, tilting his head and sending his dark hair cascading over one shoulder.

Nesta feels hysterical, fear rising like bile in the back of her throat, but somehow she’s able to choke out the words, “what did you just call me?”

The gargoyle tilts his head again, his eyes sweeping over her frame, and it feels like he’s studying her, like he’s cataloging every miniscule detail he finds buried beneath her skin. It’s unnerving. His attention slides back to her face, and Nesta is surprised to see anger etched across his expression, a burning blaze in his eyes and pinching his lips into a thin line.

He stalks closer to her, his hand reaching up between them, and Nesta’s entire body locks up with a flinch. She braces for the searing pain those claws promise, for the beast before her to kill her. Instead, his hand settles gently to cradle her face, large palm spanning her entire cheek and jaw. His thumb traces back and forth across her cheekbone, that small touch sending sparks ricocheting through Nesta’s blood.

“Who?” the gargoyle asks, his dark tone promising pain and death.

Nesta is confused by the question until she remembers the party, Tomas, the dried tear tracks she’s sure are marring her face. It’s then that she realizes the anger radiating off the gargoyle isn’t actually directed at her. It’s almost sweet, the way he seems to care.

Nesta reaches up and knocks his hand away from her face. “It doesn’t matter.”

The gargoyle huffs and crosses his arms across his chest. Nesta hates the way it makes his biceps bulge, the way it just draws further emphasis to the fact he’s shirtless.

“It matters when someone hurts my mate.”

“Stop calling me that,” Nesta snaps, taking a pointed step back from him. “You don’t know me.”

“I know all of your secrets, Nesta,” the gargoyle tells her, the sound of her name falling past his lips leaving goosebumps pebbling across her skin. “You whispered them to me every day.”

Heat prickles up Nesta’s neck and floods into her cheeks at that. She thinks back to all the time she spent up here. All the things she muttered, she shouted, she cried. It was meant to be a place for her to just let those things out. She had no idea the whole time this gargoyle was alive, that he was listening to her.

“You weren’t meant to hear any of that. You’re made of stone.”

The gargoyle’s hand reaches out again, claws curling around Nesta’s wrist this time, as he tugs her closer and presses her palm against the center of his chest. “Does this feel like stone, sweetheart?”

Instinctively, almost of their own accord, Nesta’s fingers curl and press against his skin. He’s just so warm, heat practically radiating from his body, and there’s no denying the firm muscles beneath her hand. They seem to jump and flex beneath her touch, and Nesta has to swallow hard. She tries to pull her hand away, but the gargoyle’s grip is firm, holding her there, and fluttering just beneath her fingertips, she feels it…

“A heartbeat…”

A smirk pulls its way across his face, the expression making him even more handsome. Nesta decides she hates that too. She hates that this gargoyle, this beast, could be so attractive. That the heat blazing through his hazel eyes caresses along her skin like a lover’s embrace. Keeping his hold on her wrist, he steps closer still until they’re toe to toe. Until Nesta can truly feel the heat radiating from him prickling across her whole body. Until her senses are once again flooded with that smoke and pine scent.

“It beats only for you, Nes.”

It’s like a corny line straight out of one of her romance novels. Straight out of one of her monsterfucking books, more like. She always joked with Emerie that she would never run screaming and scared like those heroines always did. Especially since the monsters always had them screaming for all the right reasons a few pages later. She never thought she’d actually have to put her money where her mouth is, never thought she’d ever have to put her own gripping fear to the test when staring down a monster.

“Do you have a name?” Nesta asks, hoping that if she can keep the gargoyle talking, can keep him distracted, she can figure out a plan.

“Cassian,” he tells her, his free hand burying itself in her hair, tilting her head up more.

“Cassian…”

Cassian groans when she repeats his name back to him, leaning down and burying his face in the crook of her neck. His nose slides along her skin, his lips following the same blazing path until he reaches a spot behind her ear. Nesta’s breath hitches in her lungs as he kisses there, his teeth scraping teasingly, and she squeezes her eyes shut, trying to stay focused, but her body seems keen on betraying her. Both his hands move to settle at her waist, his grip on her gentle, almost reverent, but it’s loose enough to give her the chance she needs.

She counts to three in her mind, and then she tears herself away from him, sprinting for the roof door. Blessedly, it doesn’t stick for once, and Nesta runs down the stairs as fast as she can. She dares to look back over her shoulder when she reaches her floor, but even though there’s no sign of Cassian, she doesn’t slow down.

She slams her apartment door closed behind her as soon as she’s safely inside, sliding the locks into place and double checking them to be safe. With a relieved breath, she slowly backs away from the door, pressing a hand to her chest and willing her still thundering heart to calm. She wonders if she should call the police. She’s not quite sure what she’d say to them, but it seems like the logical thing to do.

The soft whooshing sound of her balcony door swinging open has Nesta whirling around with wide eyes, realizing she’s made a grave error in her escape plan. She never locks that door. It always seemed silly since her apartment was so high up. Who could ever break-in that way? Not to mention that balcony is a loose term anyways. It's more like a ledge, barely enough space for the plant Elain gifted her the first week she moved in.

But clearly it’s enough space for Cassian to land, his steps slow, measured as he walks inside Nesta’s apartment, a predator stalking his prey. She expects him to be angry, but instead, he merely smiles at her, a cocksure smirk that tugs up higher on the left side of his lips, hazel eyes practically glinting as he watches her.

“You keep trying to run from me, but I don’t think you realize it only excites me more.”

Nesta looks around frantically, trying to find some sort of weapon, something to defend herself with. She spies an old candlestick holder, something Gwyn had thrifted when helping to decorate her apartment. She grabs it now, turning back toward Cassian with it brandished, but he’s already crossed the distance between them without her noticing. His hand catches her wrist, halting her movements, and he raises an eyebrow, that smug smirk of his still painted across his face.

“Your fire excites me too.” Cassian squeezes until the candlestick drops from Nesta’s hand, his other arm sliding around her waist and pulling her into him. “I have waited a very, very long time to hear your song.”

“I’ll scream,” Nesta threatens, raising her chin defiantly.

“That’s the plan, sweetheart.”

“Quite confident for someone who’s apparently waited a very, very long time.”

Cassian chuckles, the sound warm and low, as he slides his thumb across Nesta’s bottom lip. “A haughty witch, my mate.”

“I’m not your anything, you insufferable bastard,” Nesta tells him, jerking head back and away from his hand.

“You can’t lie to me. I know that you feel it too. Our souls are bound together.”

“Not interested. Go fly off and bother someone else.”

“But they wouldn’t be nearly as beautiful as you are.”

Try as she might, Nesta can’t help but preen beneath his praise. It’s only made worse by the knowing look that graces his face. Both his hands come up to frame her cheeks, tilting her head up enough that when he leans down their noses bump together. It leaves barely a hairsbreadth of space between them, Cassian’s breath skating across her lips with every exhale. She presses up onto her toes, her body leaning forward into him almost subconsciously before she catches herself, remembering that she doesn't know this man. Remembering that he's not even a man.

“Need something, Nes?” Cassian asks, his voice quiet but full of teasing.

The tone has Nesta huffing in frustration, latching back onto her anger. “If you try to kiss me, I’ll scratch your eyes out.”

Cassian snarls softly. “Do it then.”

Nesta can’t say she ever imagined what it might be like kissing a gargoyle, but it certainly wasn’t this. All other thoughts, all other protests, melt away as he crashes his mouth against hers. His lips slide against hers with practiced ease, rough and with abandon. His tongue presses hotly into her mouth, and there’s no stopping the moan that tumbles free from her throat. The sound only seems to spur him on, Cassian greedily swallowing down every sound. His arm drops back to her waist, pulling her flush against him until she can feel every hard ridge of his body pressed against her.

Before Nesta realizes they're even moving, her back bumps into the wall. Cassian's tail slides up her calf and curls around her thigh, lifting her leg so he can slide into the cradle of her hips. She can feel the hard line of his erection with every rock of his hips against hers, and heat cascades through her veins, pooling low in her gut. Her whole body feels alright, sparking in the most delicious way, and soon, she's shifting her own hips to meet his movements, chasing that blessed friction. She buries her hands in his hair, tugging at the strands, tugging him closer still until he's the one groaning into her mouth.

Cassian pulls his mouth away from hers, latching onto her neck. His teeth sink into the skin of her pulse point, tongue soothing over the pain, and that fire in Nesta's veins turns into a roaring blaze. The flames lick through her limbs and spark through her nerve endings, until she can do nothing but tug Cassian's mouth back to hers and kiss him greedily.

“Which door?” Cassian asks when he pulls away again, voice a breathless rasp and teeth nipping at her bottom lip.

Nesta blinks a few times, trying desperately to shake the hazy fog that's taken over her mind. “What?”

“Which door?”

“The left. Second on the left.”

The tail slips away from Nesta's thigh, just to be replaced by Cassian's hands. He hauls her up and against him, hands slipping back to knead at her ass. Nesta isn't sure if it's the wings or just his long legs, but it's no time at all before they're in her bedroom, before Cassian is depositing her on her bed. He clambers up after her, settling between her legs and leaning down to continue his ministrations along her neck. One clawed finger drags from her collarbones down, shredding her dress clean down the middle with precision and ease.

“Was that really necessary?” Nesta snaps, even as she sits up enough that she can pull what remains of her dress off.

Cassian hums noncommittally, clearly only half listening, his attention wholly on her heaving chest. His hand reaches toward her breast, but Nesta is quick to smack it away. Replacing her dress is one thing, but bras are expensive. She reaches her own hands back to unclasp the garment, sliding it off and tossing it aside. She settles back on her elbows against the blankets, her skin heating under Cassian's hungry gaze.

“Beautiful,” Cassian whispers, to her or to himself, Nesta isn't sure. “My beautiful Nesta.”

He surges forward and connects their lips again, groaning into her mouth as he presses her back against the mattress. One of his hands finds her chest, the large span of it covering her breast completely. He kneads and squeezes, the prickle of his claws against her skin mixing the pleasure with pain.

Nesta is a panting mess by the time he pulls away from the kiss. He trails his mouth along her jaw, her neck, her collarbones, stopping periodically to nip at the skin, to suck until more breathy moans tumble from Nesta’s lips. His hand leaves her breast, and Nesta would be annoyed at the loss, except he replaces it with his mouth. She practically arches up off the mattress as his tongue swirls over her nipple.

She can feel the way Cassian smirks against her skin, and she would feel more abashed about the reaction he pulled from her, but his mouth working her over feels too good. The way his teeth graze slightly, the way he sucks, the way his tongue moves in languid circles, it’s obscene, and by the time he’s switching to her other breast, Nesta can do nothing but writhe beneath him, her hips bucking up in a desperate search for some friction. Cassian’s tail slips around his thigh, sliding across her hips, and Nesta lets out a frustrated huff as it keeps her pinned down to the mattress.

“Patience, Nes,” Cassian chastises, lowering his mouth again for extra, torturous, good measure.

Nesta rolls her eyes, but blessedly, Cassian moves down the mattress, moves down between her legs, pressing kisses along her sternum and stomach. He pauses to suck a lovebite near her hip bone, his hands sliding up her ankles, her calves, before curling around her thighs. They tug until she’s spread wide for him, one finger sliding tantalizing, teasingly, over her still clothed center.

“For someone who was threatening to scratch my eyes out, you’re practically dripping for me,” Cassian tells her, pressing the barest hint of pressure against her clit.

“For someone who was so confident, you’ve yet to prove anything,” Nesta fires back, burying a hand in his hair and shoving his head down where she really wants him.

Cassian chuckles, but he leans down and licks a long, thick stripe over her, his groan almost as loud as Nesta’s moan. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to bury my face in your sweet cunt. How long I’ve waited for you to finally come to me on a full moon.”

The words settle in the back of Nesta’s mind, whispering for attention, but she’s too distracted watching as Cassian’s claws tease the waistband of her panties. Slowly, those claws curl, tugging the fabric down her legs and off. Her discarded panties have barely even hit the floor before Cassian presses his mouth against her, his tongue finding her clit and moving in those same delicious circles he’d used on her breast. Nesta tosses her head back, letting a low moan of his name, but just as quickly as he started, Cassian stops.

“Eyes on me,” Cassian orders, his claws squeezing at her thighs in warning. “I want to watch your face when you fall apart for me.”

Nesta whimpers quietly at his words, but she tilts her chin back down to meet his gaze. It feels like a mistake. All of his teasing already has her dangling by a thread, but the sight of him has her soaring even higher. His wings are splayed out wide across the blankets, his dark curls disheveled from Nesta running her fingers through him, and his eyes… The piercing hazel of them still glints in the moonlight that pours in through her bedroom window, but there’s a dark quality to them, a hunger, the pupils blown so wide they almost swallow any other color up.

And though Nesta can’t see his whole face, she can tell just from those eyes that he’s smirking again.

Cassian keeps his gaze pinned on her, but he devours her with a fervor that has Nesta struggling to do the same. Her fingers grip and tug at his hair just to give herself some sort of anchor. He alternates between swirling his tongue over her clit and fucking it in and out of her, every groan against her sending vibrations all the way down to her toes. Each hot, wet slide of his mouth against her has Nesta climbing higher and higher concerningly fast, and even though Cassian’s grip has her practically pinned so she can’t rock and grind against his face the way she really wants to, she’s already so close.

Every sound out of Nesta’s mouth is a breathy moan, a choked off sound of Cassian’s name. She can feel the familiar heat coiling low in her gut, twisting tighter and tighter, and it takes all of her willpower to keep her eyes open, to keep her eyes on the man, the beast, buried between her thighs. Cassian’s lips close around her clit, sucking, and that’s it. Her eyes finally squeeze shut as she shatters, thighs pressing against his grip on them as she tries to clamp them around his head.

Nesta is barely able to catch her breath, has barely come down from the aftershocks of her orgasm still ricocheting through her, when she feels Cassian’s tongue on her again. She lets out a whimper at the overstimulation, trying to squirm away from his mouth, but he lets out a snarl, his claws digging into her thigh until it starts to sting. It’s a firm reminder of exactly who’s between her thighs right now. Exactly what.

“It’s too much,” Nesta whines, trying to move away again, her knee knocking against his temple.

Cassian’s tail whips around and curls around her ankle, tugging her leg back down and pinning it there. He licks another stripe up her cunt, moaning at the taste, before meeting her gaze again. “My mate can take it. I know you can.”

“Cassian…”

Nesta's protest ends in a choked off moan as Cassian sinks one of his claws into her. Just one of them is thicker than her own fingers have ever been, the stretch somehow too much and not enough at the same time.

“That's it,” Cassian praises, leaning down to lick at her clit again while his claw moves slowly in and out. “So tight, sweetheart. Can't wait to feel you squeezing my cock.”

Nesta whimpers at his words, at the way he curls his claw inside her. She's already dangerously close again, her whole body on pins and needles as she balances on that precipice. Her hips start to rock down against his hand, against his face, while she chases that release, back bowing off the bed with every lick and suck to her clit.

“Eyes on me,” Cassian snaps, his hand stilling until Nesta drags her attention back to his face. “That's my good girl.”

Cassian's eyes widen as Nesta's whole body responds to those words, as she clenches around him and a loud moan tears free from deep in her chest. Somewhere, in the back of Nesta's mind, she knows she should be embarrassed, but the praise shoots through her like lightning, and she wants to hear it again.

“Do you like that?” Cassian asks, that smirk of his returning. “My good girl, my pretty mate, taking my fingers so well.”

Cassian presses in a second claw beside the first, and Nesta's toes curl, her thighs shaking against the hold of his free hand and his tail.

“Fuck, you're so beautiful like this. But you're even more beautiful when you come. Come on, Nes. Be my good girl and come again for me.”

Cassian dips his head back down, and one lick of her clit has Nesta tumbling head first through another orgasm. The force of another one so quickly has tears prickling in the corner of her eyes, but thankfully, when she slumps back against the mattress, Cassian’s grip on her thighs finally relents.

He slides back up her body, connecting their lips again. Nesta can taste the remnants of herself on his tongue, and it has her moaning into his mouth. She slides her hand down his hair, his shoulders, his chest, until she reaches the waistband of his pants, the only garment of clothing he’s wearing, but before she can tug at them, her wrists are pinned back against the mattress, just one of Cassian’s clawed hands holding both of hers.

“Cassian,” Nesta whines against his lips, trying to buck her hips up against him. “Fuck me.”

Cassian chuckles and shakes his head teasingly. “So demanding.”

“Get used to it.”

“Happily.”

Cassian shifts off of Nesta and the bed, reaching for the waistband of his pants and shoving them down his legs. Nesta’s mouth goes dry at the sight of him. With his large frame catching in the moonlight, his purple wings stretched wide over his shoulders, his hair falling in dark rivulets around his face, he looks like a fallen angel, a warrior from some long forgotten, ancient, magical people. He’s beautiful. The most beautiful man she’s ever seen despite not even being a man, and something tugs deep in Nesta’s chest almost in recognition, as her eyes sweep over him.

And his cock. Realistically, Nesta knew that with how tall he was, he was bound to be large, but knowing and seeing are two different things, and seeing the long, thick length hard and already weeping between his strong thighs has her swallowing hard. Has her clenching in anticipation. One clawed hand wraps around it, stroking once, twice, before Cassian steps back over to the bed, kneeling up onto the mattress. Nesta spreads her legs wider almost instinctively, and when Cassian settles back between them, she tugs him down into another kiss.

She waits for Cassian to press his hips down, for him to finally sink into her, but he continues to hold himself up above her. She lets out a frustrated huff and wraps her legs around his waist, digging her heels in encouragingly, but it doesn’t work. Cassian merely laughs amusedly against her lips and presses a line of kisses across her cheek.

“Be a good girl and beg for it,” Cassian breathes against her ear.

“Cassian, please. Please fuck—”

Nesta doesn’t even finish before Cassian is shifting and the tip of him is sliding into her. His thrusts are shallow, sinking in inch by inch by inch, and the stretch borders just on the edge of pain, but Nesta has never felt so full in her life. When he finally bottoms out, Cassian stills, their hips pressed flushed together, his nose and lips tracing a path along Nesta’s neck, her jaw, to that spot behind her ear that always has her shuddering.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Cassian groans against her skin. “So perfect for me.”

Nesta experiments with clenching down around him, and the moan it draws out of him goes straight to her head. She does it again, and at least, this time, she doesn’t have to beg for anything. Cassian pulls his hips back just to snap back forward again. He sets a brutal pace, hips knocking against hers with every rough thrust. It’s just the way Nesta likes it, and she digs her nails into his shoulders, dragging them down his arms, as he works her into a moaning mess.

Cassian sits back on his haunches, pulling Nesta’s legs so they’re splayed across his thighs, as he continues to move. “Gods, look at you. Look at how you take me.”

“Look at you,” Nesta breathes around a moan, and gods, does she mean it.

With his wings flared wide above them, with his hair falling into his face, with the muscles in his thighs and stomach flexing with every snap of his hips, the sight is obscene. Almost as obscene at the sounds echoing around the four walls of her bedroom. She had already been absolutely dripping from her two previous orgasm, but now she’s sure she’s made a complete mess. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but it just seems to turn her on more and more, and she can feel herself cresting higher to that blessed peak.

Cassian’s thumb finds her clit again, and Nesta barely lasts a few tight circles against it before the dam breaks. He continues to move his hips, working her through it and stretching out her orgasm. Nesta’s entire body feels wrung out by the time she comes back down, her every muscle loose and sated as she sinks into the mattress.

She tries to focus on her breathing, on calming her thrashing heart and shaking the pins and needles feeling that pinches at her fingers and toes. But she realizes with a jolt that Cassian is still pressed hot and hard inside her, and when he thrusts his hips shallowly, her eyes snap back open again.

“Cassian,” Nesta whines in protest, her nails digging in hard enough into his bicep she’s sure she’s drawn blood. “I can’t.”

Cassian leans back down over her, pulling her legs back up and around his waist. “I know my pretty mate can give me one more.”

He presses in deep, merely grinding his hips down against her, and Nesta lets out a choked off sob of a moan, tears leaking freely from the corner of her eyes. She tries to shift beneath him, tries to find some relief, but Cassian’s tail curls around her ankles, keeping her legs locked around his back.

“You promised to scream, remember?” Cassian continues, keeping the drag of his cock in and out of her slow and torturous. “Want to hear you scream my name while you come all over my cock.”

Nesta wants to hate the way her body is already heating again at his ministrations, but it feels too good for her to care, some part deep within her keening at the roughness of it all, rising to meet the very beast above her. She drags her hands back up and into his hair, tugging hard at the strands until she can pull Cassian’s mouth down to her, until she can sink her teeth into his bottom lip.

“Then make me scream.”

Cassian lets out a growl, and then the monster is truly unleashed. His hips slap against hers, the mattress rattling in the bedframe with every inward thrust. With her legs still secured by his tail, Nesta can do nothing but hold on, loud moans and screams of his name falling past her lips just like he wanted.

She dares to reach a hand up over his shoulders, dares to slide her fingertips against the leathery skin of his wings, and Cassian practically roars. He slams himself to the hilt, his hips stilling and warmth spreading through Nesta as he spills inside her. It’s enough to send her tumbling over the edge with him, her whole body shaking with this release, spots popping in her vision.

They both take a moment to catch their breath, and then Cassian is shifting off of her and the bed. She hears the shuffle of his feet, hears rummaging and the sound of running water further in her apartment, and when he returns, he has a warmth cloth to help clean her up. He helps Nesta to slip beneath the blankets, and though it’s a bit awkward with his wings, he slides in beside her, curling his arms tight around her waist. Nesta practically melts into him, letting out a soft, happy sigh as her eyes flutter shut.

Cassian’s finger traces lines and patterns between the freckles on her shoulder before he dips his head to press a kiss there. “Sleep, my mate.”

Nesta doesn’t need to be told twice.

~ * * * ~

When Nesta wakes, her bedroom is flooded with the murky light that comes from early dawn, casting shadows across the space while the sun’s few first morning rays creep their way through her window. She feels surprisingly cold, and she shivers, curling the blankets tighter around her shoulders. She realizes belatedly that it’s Cassian’s warmth that she’s missing, and when she stretches a hand out, she only finds sheets beside her.

With a frown, she rolls over properly, only to find Cassian standing in front of the window, looking out at the morning and the streets below. At least, she thinks it’s Cassian. He still has those dark curly strands hanging down to his shoulders, still has that expanse of golden brown skin and whirls of black ink. But gone are the claws, the tail, the sprawling purple wings.

“Cassian?” Nesta asks, sitting up and scrubbing a hand across her eyes.

Cassian turns at the sound of his name, smiling at her. There’s a softness to his hazel eyes that has them glinting pure gold in the early morning light, a softness to his smile and his expression that has Nesta’s heart stuttering between her ribs until warmth bursts and blooms there.

“You’re not a…”

“You broke my curse,” Cassian explains, stepping back over to the bed.

Nesta blinks a few times, willing her brain to fully wake up. “Curse?”

“Yes,” Cassian tells her, sitting on the mattress and reaching a hand up, gently tucking a strands of hair back behind her ear. “In my village, mates were rare, but they were sacred. Everyone hoped and dreamed of meeting theirs someday. But there was this witch, Amarantha, and she didn’t take too kindly to being rejected, especially because of mates, so she cursed us all.”

“But I don’t understand. I didn’t do anything.”

“You found me. Amarantha thought she was so conniving with her rules, finding a mate under a full moon, but you did. My pretty, clever mate.”

Nesta can feel a flush creeping up her neck at his words. “So, what happens now? This whole mate thing?”

Cassian chuckles softly and takes Nesta’s hand in his, pressing her palm against the center of his chest just as he did last night, his heart still a steady beat beneath her fingertips. “I told you. Our souls are bound together. You are mine, and I am yours.”

Nesta can’t stop the incredulous laugh that tears free from her. “So, that’s it then?”

Cassian’s smile is blinding as his hands come up to cradle her face, as he presses her back against the pillows. “That’s it then.”

Nesta is sure that she’ll have a million other questions later, but it’s hard to focus on anything else when Cassian starts pressing feather light kisses along the skin of her neck. She sighs contently as he nips at her pulse point, her legs wrapping up around his hips. She buries one hand in the dark strands of his hair, the other sliding down his spine, but as her hand slides over his skin, she pouts over his shoulder.

“I’m going to miss the wings though.”

—

Updated Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @isterofimias @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @girl-of-many-floods @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head

#nessian #cassianappreciationweek2023 #acotar #acosf #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nesta x cassian #gargoyle cassian #my fic

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crusty-chronicles · 1 year

Text

Love Me Like I'm Your Last (Kite x Reader)

Synopsis: A quickie with Kite leads to more than you expected.

Part 2 Part 3

This is a smut, so minors DNI

Warnings: Unprotected sex, Fem reader, Dry-humping, Rough Sex, hair pulling kink, Cock warming kind of, fluff towards the end

It was rare having time alone. Usually Gon and Killua were stuck by your side for one reason or the other. But after you had been unable to locate this new species with your tracking nen, they figured it was best to give you some space. Especially since your nen had always been able to pinpoint what you wanted. Well, almost always.

The sound of soft footsteps reminded you that you weren't completely alone. Kite and his team had also been assigned this mission, and for whatever reason, Kite had volunteered to 'watch' over you while the rest of his team went out to gather more information.

You looked up from your position on the couch.

"You need something?" You asked. Kite looked down at you quizzically.

"Are you feeling any better?"

You grimaced. It wasn't like you lost your ability; you were just frustrated that the one thing you were good at was useless this time. It didn't make sense why you couldn't track this particular creature down. And you knew you weren't helping anybody by being upset.

"I feel like shit, but it's more of a mental thing y'know."

He smirked a little at your comment.

"Feeling discouraged?"

You tossed a pillow over your face. You weren't exactly discouraged, but you were pissed.

"I'm going kick that animal's ass for making a fool out of me!"

You heard Kite give a breathy chuckle before sitting at the end of the couch. He lifted the pillow from your face, exposing your pout.

"You're gonna need another way to take your frustrations out. We need to study it once it's captured, remember? Can't exactly have you killing it once we find it."

"Got any better ideas, Mr. Pro Hunter?"

----------------------------

One thing led to another and now here you were, grinding your clothed cunt against Kite's aching cock. The friction of your shorts and the pressure of his hardness stimulated your clit.

You let out a breathy moan as Kite thrusted up slightly. Hands clenched at your waist, guiding your hips towards the place he needed you the most.

"How long," Kite groaned at a rough roll of your hips before continuing. "How long do you think they'll be gone for?"

You undid the button of your shorts before answering.

"Should be a couple more hours." A whine slipped from your throat and he dipped his hand beneath the waistband of your underwear. "You?"

His finger prodded and your throbbing clit, sending shivers of pleasure through your body.

"I'd give them till sundown before they're back," he answered. You grinded down harder as he slid a slender finger inside you. It felt good, but it wasn't nearly enough for your greedy cunt. You needed more.

You grabbed his hand and stopped his ministrations against your cunt, gesturing to his own pants. Seeming to understand, he shuffled out of his pants and boxers just enough for his cock to spring free.

You jerked him twice and grinned as he gripped your hips tighter.

"You really want to tease me right now?" Kite asked, his eyes shadowed by his hat. Your grin widened.

"Plenty of time till sundown," you pulled your panties to the side, angling your hips towards his stiff member. " But if you're so desperate for me to fuck you silly, be my guest." You chastised as you slammed your hips down.

The stretch of his cock inside of you stung, but it wasn't nothing you couldn't handle. Right now especially with your need to get your frustrations out. No, the feeling of such fullness only added fuel to the fire.

Kite moaned softly into your ear as you set a rough pace, your warm heat taking him in so well. The tightness of your hole let him know it had been quite some time since you'd done this. And God was he grateful.

Your hands had wandered from his shoulders to his hair, knocking his infamous blue hat off as you gripped his silver locks.

"Fuck, fill me so good," you moaned, tugging at his scalp. Kite's pace increased to match yours, thrusting up hard and fast to feel your cunt envelope him over and over.

It'd been no secret you two were fond of each other, but it had gone no further than friendship. From your side, it had been easy to tell you were soft for Kite. Your love language was teasing, and everyone could see the way you tried to get a rise out of him more than anyone else. You'd push his buttons in a way that would have been annoying to anyone else. But despite this, Kite could tell there was no real malice behind your actions.

Not when you did things for him that you never did for anyone else. Like the way you fought the Chimera Ants tooth and nail until he was back safely. Or the way you always lectured him for being too careless in battle (even if it was the tiniest of scratches) Or how quickly you spread your legs to let him fuck you silly.

Your nails raked down his back at a particularly hard thrust. You normally weren't so willing to fuck the first guy who offered, so why exactly had you agreed so easily. Maybe it was because Kite was so understanding towards you. Perhaps it was the way he looked after his team. Or maybe it had been because he was so good with your boys.

The though alone made you clench down, the head of his dick soon bullying your cervix right after.

Yes, you were truly soft for the man in front of you.

You pulled his head forward, crashing his lips against yours. Kite let out a noise of surprise before wrapping a hand around your throat. The pressure of it making you moan into his mouth. He took the opportunity to mingle his tongue with yours. The exchange of spit made your tightening cunt gush.

You broke away from the kiss to lean your mouth near his ear and let out a purposefully loud moan. You could feel his skin flush while he could feel your teasing grin on his shoulder.

While you had a soft spot for Kite, what he felt towards you was a little stronger. It was harder to see sure, but the feeling made him thrust just a little harder into your gooey cunt.

It was a look and you'd miss it type of affection Kite had for you. No one besides Spin had noticed it. She had been the only one to notice how Kite always seemed to recommend you specifically for missions. The way he'd justify it with your tracking nen being an asset, but in reality never once asking you to use your ability when you arrived. The way he'd sneak glances at you with a certain fondness he didn't look at others with.

It was a mystery to him how someone completely opposite of his own demeanor had captured his attention this way. You were stubborn and hot-headed. Always getting into fights and acting on pure emotion. Much like the way you were riding him.

He was reserved and collected. Always thinking things through to avoid mistakes. But that had gone out the window the moment he offered his body as a means of comfort. It was reckless; however, he couldn't really say he regretted it now that he was engulfed in your squelching pussy.

His heart beat faster at the realization that what he felt for you was stronger than infatuation.

He pulled you down to his chest, holding you firmly as he adjusted his hips to piston into you. By the sounds you were making, he could tell you were enjoying this new position.

Kite snapped his hips up into yours harshly, fingers causing bruising on your waist. Even if this was temporary, even if this was a quickie where you just wanted to let your frustrations out, even if you didn't feel the same...

Kite was gonna fuck you like you were his last.

The new angle hit a deeper part within you, your pussy clenching harshly around his throbbing cock. The head of his shaft reaching and slamming into your cervix along with the drag of it against the inside of your cunt was becoming too much for you. With each snap of his hips, you were clenching tighter and tighter.

"I'm gonna-" you were cut off by your own whine. It had felt so hot inside you. The coil in your stomach ready to snap. Your hands pulled Kite's hair again to ground yourself.

"Fuck," he hissed out at the slight pain. God it hurt so good. Your pussy suffocating his dick, making it harder for him to pull out.

Without warning, he moved his hand down to rub harsh circles against your clit. The feeling was too much, too good.

All at once your vision went white, your cunt spasming around Kite. He didn't stop though, wanting to chase his own orgasm. His still brutal pace causing a new wave of hotness to course through you.

Kite had felt it before you could figure out what happened. A resistance against his thrust, then wetness running down his shaft onto his legs.

You had just squirted.

And he had been the one to make you.

A new wave of arousal coursed through him, making Kite thrust even faster into yaou, the mess you made making it easier for him to slip in and out.

He could feel himself twitching, ready to give you all he had. Your mewls of pleasure urging him to finish. But what had pushed him over the edge was one final clench from you around his cock.

He had come hard, the warmth from his cum spilling inside you. All while he was gasping out, " God I love you! Love you so much! So good for me!"

You had awoken from your daze at once and pulled away from him slightly. It was enough to look him in the eye.

Kite however, was trying to regain his senses, lightly thrusting up until he emptied himself out. His eyes fluttered open after catching his breath only to be met with your questioning gaze. He quickly realized his mistake.

"What did you say?" Your asked.

Kite tries to avoid your stare. This was just supposed to be a quick fling. A way to get you to relax. He shouldn't have said anything, but the feeling of you constricting around him had clouded his vision.

" Nothing," he mumbled. He couldn't tell what was more awkward. The fact that you had heard his confession or the fact that you two were still connected.

"Bullshit, it was nothing." Definitely the fact that you'd heard him.

"You said you loved me." And although your tone was stern, it wasn't angry. A good sign, but he still couldn't find it in himself to look you fully in the eye.

You on the other hand, were curious more than anything.

"Was that a heat of the moment thing, or did you mean it?"

Kite could have played it off, he really could have and you wouldn't have questioned it any further. But a part of him wanted to know, wanted to test the waters a little bit. You did still have his dick inside you and hadn't made a move to leave.

"if I had meant it, would you be upset." Your face heated up at his words.

"No... But we'd still have to talk about it." At last he looked up at you. Your eyes almost had a fond look to them, causing him to mirror your flushed expression.

"Would it be a good talk?" Kite was suddenly reminded of how hard it was to socialize. He'd never been one to initiate conversations.

"Yeah, a good talk." Your teasing smile had soon eased his worries.

You weren't used to being looked at like that. With such love. It made a new warmness engulf your body. Relationships were hard for you, and with you constantly on the move with Gon and Killua, you'd never been able to properly start one.

"Loving you is the easy part, y'know?" Your confession was accompanied by your hand moving a lock of Kite's silver hair from his face.

"And everything that comes after is the hard part." He guessed.

"Yeah... We're both on the move nearly everyday. You have your thing and I have mine. It won't be easy. Are you positive you want that?"

You felt his hand cup your face, bringing it closer to his.

"I want whatever you're willing to give. I won't push you, but I don't want this to just be physical." He kissed you then, it was a sweet one. Unlike the feral one you shared moments ago.

It sparked something in your stomach, mixing with the warmth of his cock and the fullness of his cum with yours.

"Then show me. Show me how you're gonna love me like I'm your last." You felt yourself get pushed down gently on the couch, Kite hovering over you with a small smile. His eyes filled with something softer than desire.

"We still have a few more hours till sundown. Plenty of time to convince you that this is worth working through."

------------------------------------------------------------

An: God damn this man has me smitten. Never and I mean Never have I been so thirsty for a character that I write smut for them. And you know what, I'm probably gonna write a part two because Kite is so FINE and there's not enough fics about him.

#hxh #hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter x reader #hunter x hunter x y/n #hxh x reader #hxh x y/n #kite hunter x hunter #kite x reader #kite smut #x reader #smut #kite x y/n #hxh kite #hxh kaito

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bestfriend491 · 10 months

Text

"I win!"

Headcannons/ Drabbles

Is she competitive? Part 2

Ramonda

When the two of you were younger and both still either the Black Panther or a Dora Milaje, being the better warrior was always something she had to do.

From doing the most training, to saving the most people, she had to be better than you.

On top of her strange competitiveness in silly games, Ramonda also has a thing for "friendly" competition in your work relationship.

Admittedly, you played into her game, always trying to raise the bar and win over her.

Some could say that this rivalry is what fueled the love and passion of your relationship in the earlier years of marriage.

Of course, others were less enthusiastic about the tasteless way that you both went about your competition.

"Ehem." Captain Zola cleared her throat as the jet that held both you and some of the Dora approached ground.

She stared pointedly at two people at the back.

"Can I please get all of your attention!" She stated, again heavily glaring at the chattering bodies at the back.

Feeling new gazes on you, you shifted your attention away from Ramonda, who had previously been describing a previous mission's events.

You were met with multiple judgemental glares in your direction, so you paid closer attention to the woman standing firmly at the front with her hands in tight fists at her sides.

"Oh! Uh, did you call?" You asked stupidly. You knew that she had.

Letting out a loud sigh, then a groan, Zola tried to remain calm.

She looked directly at you. "Y/n,"

Then at Ramonda, "Ramonda,"

A knowing silence consumed the vehicle, and all eyes were on you.

"I am going to tell you one time before we leave. We are going out there to assist in battle and help in protecting and helping both injured and uninjured people get to safety. Under no circumstances, and I mean NO circumstances, do I want to see the two of you counting the number of people you save as points in a game. Especially not out loud where they can hear you!"

Snickers came from all over, cracking the mask of serious energy that had only moments ago taken over everybody.

You struggled to keep a smile off your face, feeling Ramonda already buzzing with excitement over your regular competition.

"Do I make myself clear?" Zola asked.

You nodded firmly, embarrassed at the warning. Your wife didn't share the same sentiment, letting out an unreasonably loud laugh after seeing you.

You nudged her, seeing the captain grow more irritable as more time passed.

"Um-Yes Captain!" She corrected herself, earning an unbelieving shake of the head from her.

"I hope so." She said, making her way to the exit as the jet landed.

As everyone stood up and got in line, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

"Yes, my love?" You asked, avoiding actually looking at the woman.

"I don't actually intend on stopping my winning steak." She whispered.

You grinned, not in any way shocked by her words.

"My winning steak, you mean."

She rolled her eyes, "I'm not counting the last round. That was a foul and you know it."

"Call it what you want, either way I won."

"You won by cheating! That's not-" She stopped herself, taking a deep breath in.

"You know what, it doesn't even matter because I'm going to be the one that wins today."

You felt the doors opening, giving her one more proper glance, before putting your helmet on.

"We'll see."

Minutes into entering the location that was under attack, Captain Zola heard the dreaded sounds of what she'd tried so hard to prevent.

"Look who's winning now, Y/n! That's 10 saves for you and 12 for me!"

She whipped her head in the direction of the voice, both fuming and embarrassed.

To her left, she saw Ramonda placing someone in the safe area of the fight-zone.

Not too far away stood you, looking exactly where your wife was, counting people.

Zola closed her eyes, only to be met with your voice replying.

"Ramonda, these are real lives. Not everything has to be a competition." She heard. And for a moment she saw a glimpse of professionalism. A smidgen of respect for you forming.

"And you're wrong. I've saved 14 people today."

And once again, you lost all of her respect.

AN: just a little taste to show you that I'm working again. More of these coming next week. 🤭 along with a new story, maybe. 🤷🏾‍♀️

#black panther fics #x female reader #queen ramonda #ramonda x reader #queen ramonda x reader #ramonda #queen ramonda x female reader #thoughts that might turn into stories #ramonda headcannons

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karkatbug · 9 months

Note

🦀⛽️🕶️

They've rented a cottage for the long weekend. It's a bunch of them, they're college kids so they lie about the number of guests, of course, but it is the only way they can afford the place. There was plenty of room if people didn't mind sharing beds. Dave wasn't that close with most of the trolls joining them, but he's chill about it. He'd stick with his friends and give whoever looked in his direction an aloof nod of acknowledgment or whatever the fuck. The occasional awkward interaction was to be expected.

What he doesn't expect is one of the few trolls he did know well to pester the group chat and ask for help. The dumbass apparently slept in. He was also supposed to drive Terezi and Sollux, both of which found last-minute rides when he didn't answer them in the morning. He was on his way on his lonesome, which, fine. Glad Shouty McGee was going to make it to lunch with zero complaints, surely, but whatever. What catches Dave off guard is the fact that he's on his phone. Karkat was pretty fucking anal about texting while driving.

Apparently, he's stuck in the middle of the highway. Out of gas? Seriously? How unprepared could a guy be for a trip he had personally put so much effort into planning! That was like forgetting to attend your own birthday party. We're all here with our silly hats, Karkat. Get it together, man.

Dave is voluntold by his friends to buy some gas at the stop they're currently stretching their legs at and make the arduous trip to wherever the hell Karkat was stranded. That's what being physically fit got you, apparently. He eyes the Buc-ee's begrudgingly, wondering how much brisket it would take to forfeit him from his role.

No amount of gas station beef would ever be worth the sacrifice of his bowels, he concludes.

It takes him a bit of illegal jogging along the side of the highway, a few cases of being honked at and resisting the urge to flip them off, and a lot of time (an hour and twenty-four minutes to be precise), for him to make it to Karkat sitting on the roof of his car dejectedly.

He is uncharacteristically silent when he and Dave fill his tank. He thanks him and they're off to the rest stop they planned to meet at.

"What's up? You definitely crapped the bed at about every turn you made today, but you usually don't let that shit stop you from verbally assaulting my hear ducts."

"Just say ears," Karkat mumbles. His bags are darker than usual. Hair messier, frown deeper, brows furrowed and grip on the steering wheel turning his gray skin translucent. Dave eyes the veins on the back of his hands curiously.

"Are you okay, dude?"

Karkat quickly glances at Dave then back to the road, eyes momentarily widened by, what, surprise? "Like you give a shit, Dave. Let's just try to remain civil until the fucking cottage and then we can fuck off to our sides of the forest like some bad re-enactment of... of—"

"Oh fuck you can't even come up with an indiscernibly pathetic excuse of an analogy. I'll find us the nearest hospital."

"Fuck off, Strider! I'm just tired."

"Yeah, no shit. You like, never sleep in. You never sleep period."

Karkat hums. The sound has Dave putting down his phone and observing the other carefully. This is probably the first time he's sat alone with the other. This is definitely the first time he's given him his undivided attention. Something aches in him when he looks at Karkat.

They make it to the rest stop and find out that their friends had met up and left together to accept the key from the Airbnb owner at their previously agreed time. It's not ideal for Dave. Part of the trip he most looked forward to was being on the road with his friends, not fucking Karkat Vantas, but he was out of options and he wasn't about to be a wet blanket about it. They get some human slash troll fuel in the form of sandwiches and coffee, and head back to the car to fill the tank. Dave leans against the side of the trunk while eating his breakfast and simultaneously talking Karkat's ear off about the things he learned that morning, sensing that the other needed a distraction.

Jade's TA broke his tailbone and canceled lab on the day of the exam review, and may or may not have given his students the test bank as an apology, which Karkat is going to appreciate during the next semester when he takes the course. Karkat definitely perks up at that, which is good. A first sign of life behind those defeated eyes!

Dave also tells him Rose keeps talking about Kanaya's thesis which Karkat grumbles Jesus, same here, with the suffering being in reverse. He gets some grade-A Karkat complaints out of that one, which is fan-fucking-tasking. We're almost back to normal.

Finally, Dave drops a bomb. Turns out John dropped out of school? Like, a month ago?

"What?!"

"Yeah, fucking join the club, dude. We're still trying to figure out what the fuck happened there."

"Why? He wasn't failing out or anything! He always had his shit together too. He was doing better off than most of us fuckheads."

"You're preaching to the choir, man. I'm thinking we give him some pure vodka and speedrun getting an answer out of him this weekend."

"I'll hold him down while you funnel it in his mouth," Karkat answers seriously. They snort in unison. It's not that serious. It's sad, yeah. There's that silent understanding that John wasn't okay at all, but Christ what can you do in these kinds of situations but cope with a little humor? Karkat returns the pump and takes the sandwich Dave offers him without a word. They move the car to the parking lot and eat in silence for a moment. It's surprisingly nice. The sky is blue, the morning chill is still there since Karkat has his windows down, and they can hear excited chatter among chirping birds in the background. It was still the road trip experience Dave sought. It was nice. Even if it was with Karkat. Dave looks over to him, and can't get that aching feeling out of his heart.

"How are you doing with school?" he asks.

Karkat glares down at his sandwich. Dave thinks he's not going to get a response, but the fight seems to leave Karkat with the exasperate sigh he lets out. "I'm okay. I'm not about to drop out or anything. Just tired."

"Yeah, I feel you."

"It's a lot to fucking juggle."

Dave nods. They eat the last of their sandwiches and sip their coffees. The smell of diesel fills the air, but it's easy to ignore now that they've sat in it for so long.

"I just wish I was doing it better."

"It?"

"Everything! Academically, socially, fuck, romantically. I thought I'd be doing it all so differently."

"Your romcoms have poisoned your brain, Karkat. Elle Woods isn't real, dude. She can't hurt you."

"She'd never hurt me."

"You'll never be her, either."

"Fuck you! Now I want to watch Legally Blonde but I have to sit with you for another hour and stare at nothing but concrete and play is it garbage or roadkill?"

"Okay, first of all, it's always roadkill."

"Eugh."

"Secondly, I can reenact the movie from memory on our way to the lakehouse if you want. I'll even do different voices."

"That sounds awful," Karkat says with a smile. Dave catches himself grinning too. The ache has settled when they take one last bathroom break and stretch their legs. Dave sees Karkat's exhaustion for what it is, a tired nineteen-year-old who needs to catch a break, and insists on driving them the rest of the way. Karkat, for as good as he thinks he is at debating with others to get his way, stands no chance to Dave snatching his keys out of his hand and holding them out of reach above his head. Take that, you petite little idiot. You absolute fucking fool.

Dave takes his rightful seat behind the wheel and waits for Karkat to begrudgingly join him.

"Before we go, I have two rules," Dave mentions casually when the other puts on his seatbelt.

"Tell them both to go fuck themse—"

"Rule number one. You gotta try to catch some Z's man. It's fucking freaky when you're all quiet and despondent. Nobody's gonna sit with Mr. Doom and Gloom at the bonfire."

Karkat doesn't have a rebuttal, which only proves Dave's point. "Jesus, at least pretend to be offended that I dare have the audacity to claim that you aren't going to be the life of the party."

"I'm fucking not, why would I pretend I am? I'll be lucky if my friends remember that I'm there."

Oh. The ache is back. Karkat's wobbling voice certainly doesn't help. Dave places a hand on Karkat's shoulder and squeezes, hoping to get his attention. He's stubbornly turned away from Dave, looking out the window.

"They don't actually care if I'm there. I slept in and no one thought to come to check on me. Or to drag me out of my respiteblock! They all readjusted so fast. I think they were hoping I'd turn back. I probably should have—"

"Hey. They love you. I don't know where this shit is coming from but all your friends ever do is talk about you. Like. Fondly. Fuck, even my friends got the Vantas infection. I can't go two minutes without someone bringing up how something I said reminded them of you."

More silence. Well, and a sniffle.

"Damnit, Karkat." Dave reaches over and cups the other's cheeks, forcing him to turn and meet his gaze. "Your sleep-deprived pan is playing some cruel tricks on you. Trust me, I'm the king of having Mean Brain Syndrome and silent breakdowns."

"Really?" He sounds so small. He looks small. Wide, watery eyes, flushed cheeks and messy locks of jet-black hair accentuating his youthful features. "I can't imagine you of all people..." he trails off, piercing gaze seemingly looking through Dave's shades and straight into his soul.

Dave releases Karkat's cheeks a little too fast, but the other doesn't notice as he sniffles and wipes his nose with his sleeve.

"Yeah, dude. Of course. It's not all smooth raps and sick beats up in here." Karkat scoffs. Dave gently punches his arm. "I'm just saying, man. None of us got our shit together. We all have stuff going on and sometimes we get so tunnel-visioned we don't see the people around us."

Karkat sniffles again.

"Terezi went with Vriska."

"Ugh. That explains it."

"And Sollux somehow decided the fun van with Fef, Aradia and Eridan was the play."

Karkat laughs. It seems that understanding dawns on him as he nods at Dave. He punches him in the arm as well, none too gently mind you, the prick, but he's smiling again, which is good. Fucking day saved by the Dave-meister, master of unflipping shit and returning life to the way it was supposed to be: with an angry little troll and his volume control issues.

"So yeah, time to abide by rule number one."

"Fine, but—" Karkat pulls Dave into a hug that neither expect judging by how stiff Karkat is at first, which is hilariously ironic. Karkat was a hugger. Dave, not so much. Karkat hugging Dave was fucking absurd, but hey. Maybe they could blame this weird turn of events on the gasoline fumes they've been inhaling for the past half hour.

Dave melts into the embrace. He gets why everyone tackles Karkat for these. He's warm and sorta just... slots perfectly into your arms.

"Thanks, Dave," he says quietly enough that Dave almost misses it. "Seriously."

"No probs, dude. I know we aren't that close but fuck me if we can't trauma bond through the bullshit that is undergrad."

Karkat huffs a small laugh. Dave pats his back. They're about to pull away when Karkat quickly adds, "You're really nice."

"Yeah, the nicest. So about that going to sleep so that I don't have to hear you talk rule, hm?"

"No," Karkat says, jostling Dave for emphasis. He then squeezes him tightly. "You can't dry-humor your way out of this sincere one-to-one with me, Strider. You're kind-hearted and I need to make sure you know that."

Now that's funny. Dave is a lot of things. He's lucky most do think of him as cool. His closest friends call him a dork, but hey, that's fine too. But kind-hearted? His Bro would have laughed in his face if he heard that. He'd then proceed to beat the shit out of him for making him hear something so fucking atrocious. Dave pulls away from the hug with a crooked grin. He has nothing to say to something so absurd. Instead, he turns his attention to twisting the key in the ignition and pressing his foot down on the brake as he puts the car in reverse.

Kind-hearted.

Yeah, okay dude. Sure. Fuck. His chest tightens. He hopes the other doesn't notice the little spiral he's having. He focuses on his breathing, and on his exhale; he's good. All he needed was to breathe out and he was back to normal. Easy peasy.

"Ready to go?"

"Yeah, fuck. I'm going to try to sleep. Wake me up when we get there. Or if I talk in my sleep."

"No way dude, that sounds like some prime fucking entertainment."

Dave checks behind him to make sure no one is walking by. He slowly releases the brake just as Karkat asks "What was the second rule?"

"Oh yeah. We need some tunes," Dave says as he presses what he thinks is the radio button. Music plays, but turns out it's from whatever playlist Karkat had been listening to on his way here.

Dave slams on the brake.

"Dave, what the fuck! O—oh. Um."

It's from Dave's mixtape. He has a collection of his music that he sometimes drops in the big group chat. He never expects anyone to listen to it more than once, let alone at all. Some of their mutual friends were so polite with their responses. "It's so good, Dave!" was always appreciated. He knows how hard it was to get someone to listen to a song recommendation, let alone a song you put out, period, so he takes those kind comments with the utmost grace.

But knowing someone liked his music enough to listen to it again, on repeat, on a long drive out of town. To have his music chosen as the dedicated theme song to a long road trip, something people tend to argue over, debating over which songs should be played, something that he personally takes pretty fucking seriously, breaks something in him. The ache he thought he felt for Karkat comes back tenfold. He realizes it's a pain he's only ever harbored for himself, but kept deep within the pits of his chest, that comes bursting out of him.

"What the fuck?" Dave laughs. His voice cracks as he says it. His eyes sting, for some reason. Why was this like a punch in the gut to him? He should be flattered, and he is, but this turn of events is so unexpected he can only feel emotional.

"What? It's good! Fucking sue me for unironically liking something my friend made."

Dave laughs again. Fuck! He wipes his tears with his sleeve, bumping his shades out of the way as he does. Friend? He's only ever been flippant to Karkat's entire existence! He's only ever complained about his raucous laughter and teased him about his sleep-deprived fits. He's only ever poked fun at his abhorrent tastes in movies and dismissed his multiple attempts at pulling some form of sincerity out of Dave. Kind-hearted? Dave was the opposite. Those words should be used to describe Karkat, if anything.

"Uh oh. I broke you too. Great! I knew I was cursed."

Dave laughs again, teetering on the edge of hysteria as his song's beat changes, transitioning to an uptick of those snares he loves so much.

"Fuck. No, I'm good. I'm fine," Dave says as he wipes the last of his tears. "You have awful taste, dude. In movies and music and friends."

"Fuck you. Everything you just listed is something I can confidently say I have superior taste in. Your primitive human puzzle sponge couldn't absorb a fine understanding of the arts and friendship the way I do even if you lobotomized yourself trying!"

"Lobotomizing myself sounds like the exact thing I'd need to do to get to your level."

They banter some more. It seems Karkat is choosing to help Dave get over his brief emotional meltdown by acting like he never noticed it to begin with. Their teasing arguments eventually transition to pleasant conversation, then nothing at all. Karkat falls asleep, head resting against the window, his hood tucked between his ear and the hard surface acting as a cushion. Dave can admit, in the deepest recesses of his mind, that Karkat looks cute like this.

He also thinks he's safe from those thoughts and whatever the fuck is going on in his stomach (sword-fighting moths, he concludes) when they make it to the cottage. He parks the car next to John's and looks out at the lake. A few of their friends were on the deck, already unpacked and settled in. Dave turns to Karkat's sleeping figure and gently shakes his shoulder. The other only groans in response, which, fuck. Okay. He's cute is a thought that apparently refuses to go back into those mind recesses they came from. They've had enough of running around on the field and going down the stainless steel slides that burn your skin in the unbearable Texas heat. Those intrusive Karkat is cute thoughts want to stay at the forefront of his brain, ever the studious student working toward a 4.0 GPA.

Dave looks at Karkat, and again at their friends, who haven't noticed their arrival.

"Hey," he says quietly. He shakes him again, but Karkat is stubbornly refusing to open his eyes. Fine by him. Dave unbuckles his seatbelt and leans over. "Hey, Karkat," he repeats. No response. Dave squeezes his shoulder and experiences the most pathetic attempt at someone wriggling away from his grasp ever. A fucking toddler could fight him off better.

Karkat frowns as he's gently jostled from his slumber. His pouting lips are a little dry from the air conditioning, but his cheeks are plump and rosy from his hour-long slumber. Dave finds he can't stop himself from trying to find out what it feels like. He uses the back of his index finger to caress the skin and confirms with some degree of glee that it's exactly what he thought it'd be. Smooth and warm and inviting. Without a second thought, he leans over and presses his lips to Karkat's cheek.

Eyes fly open. Long lashes flutter and incoherent sounds of confusion escape dry lips, but Dave isn't processing any of it. He couldn't if he tried. His heart is hammering so loudly in his chest that it feels like his brain produced white noise just to protect his eardrums from it. He's out of the car in an instant, telling Karkat that they made it and he'd see him around before shutting the door behind him and rushing inside to meet with his friends.

Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck.

"Hey! You made it in one piece!" John laughs.

Dave jumps and whips around to the voice.

"Yeah, more or less," Dave nods, trying his damnest to seem nonchalant. His friends are in the kitchen, distracted with lunch preparations. He hovers for a bit, catching them up to speed on the ride: totally boring and uneventful, by the way, (I didn't just kiss Karkat and run away), and tries to offer his assistance wherever possible. He's only met with polite rejection and a mean smack to the back of his hand for trying to snack on some of the appetizers. Eventually, he is dismissed to collect his belongings from the living room since the couches are claimed by two. He's instructed to put his overnight bag in the one bedroom they have left, a single Twin XL bed.

"Hey, sorry I tried to save you a spot with us but everyone sort of first come first served the place," John says with an apologetic shrug. "You and Karkat are gonna have to share."

Fuck.

#accidental fanfic #homestuck #davekat #dave strider #karkat vantas #ask bug #hsfanfic #3.4k words and for what? ill upload this on ao3 eventually #long post

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