#chapter: black ice

[xjustakay]

put us on ice — ch. 1/4

( or: olympic favored figure skater Regulus Black gets his whole world rocked by James Potter, who’s finally shooting his most important winning shot yet ) figure skater Reg & hockey James debut finally. hope you enjoy! -jazz hands-

#jegulus #regulus black #james potter #jegulus fanfiction #i never know what else to tag but HEY LOOK THEY’RE HERE #and i’m running in circles excited about it #next few chapters staggered over the next like week but they’re there #and i love them an insane amount #kay’s writing #fic: put us on ice

[eddiemunsonbignaturals]

saying grace

a slow morning— declarations— breakfast in bed. 3.8k words

eddie munson x reader smut, 21+

cw: pussy slapping, not choking but like if ya squint sure, oral without protection, lmk if there’s anything i should tag otherwise

heat.

stuffy stillness; warm, stale air; the scent of clove and tobacco on his breath, of your rosemary hair oil; itchy sweat prickling the button of your nose and your scalp; long, fine hair sticking to your cheeks and forehead; and damp plush—

you take sensory stock, counting all your fingers and toes as your claw yourself to consciousness, up through this syrup-trap pit of sleep. your sweetheart, your Eddie, stirs behind you as you stretch your legs and he closes the steaming gap between you, pressing as much of his skin to yours as possible.

you feel like a raw boulder, like a bag of sand, each 100-pound limb still too heavy to fight off the massive blanket your legs are tangled up in. some sunlight makes it through the thick shag of the blanket, and your humid little bubble glows a deep dreamy orange. you feel a different warmth in your chest that melds you to him, and you wonder if you’ve been here for decades, wonder if you’re really carved from sunwarmed stone.

you feel Eddie’s breath, a deep sigh gusting hot over your brow. his chin is resting on the top of your head. the hair sticking to you isnt yours; the silk scarf you sleep in feels as secure as ever! as in: its slid only halfway off your head, only mostly useless. but it is still snug enough to keep your curls back and off your face. you know your sweat is reverting the blowout further, but can’t bring yourself to give a shit. his arm anchors you to the bed by your waist. you try to sit up, but he’s not budging.

he’s started to “snore” at your gentle attempts at slithering out of the cocoon you’ve built for yourselves, and your eyeroll must be audible.

the slide of your free arm up towards your head where the blanket ends, just under his nose, selfish bastard, takes a whole minute; the slow crawl of your opposite-side leg to the bottom edge of this impossibly large goddamn blanket takes two. you abort the first mission and try to roll away from this chest glued to your back, but he finally abandons sleepy pretense and grabs your wrist in his notably dry hand. there’s a vent up there you can’t reach, and it makes your search feel even more dire. your eddie isn’t moved.

“don’t remember givin’ you clearance f’r travel.” gravelly, you think. so, his throat’s dry too. when he speaks, you feel the rumble through your whole body like you’re made of jello.

“don’t remember fucking asking,” you mumble, still sleepy. then you sigh, too. you don’t want to unstick from him, duh, its too comfy here frying alive, but you’re afraid if you don’t move now that you never will, and also maybe your teeth are actually growing moss.

“i’m roasting. eddie. edward. eddie, i’m dying, i’ll die.” his next shitty fake snore rattles your teeth its so loud, and then he doesn’t speak again.

yeah, fuck the scarf. eddie groans, annoyed at your fidgeting, but the sound lilts and lightens happily as you reach up to snatch it off with another huff. its basically soaked, and he’s pulled back to bury his face in your now exposed cloud of hair. he moans into it then pushes his pelvis slowly into you, then back, then forth again to settle.

it all feels so good, he feels so good; its too hot. but you’re too in love to even think of peeling all this skin apart. you’re rubbing against him where ever you can, toes gliding along his calf, hand sliding up and down his thigh, legs rubbing together like a joyful little cricket, and you feel the dark chuckle rumble in his chest as you wiggle your ass back—as if theres a centimeter of room left between you.

now, you’re realizing with a giddy thrill that he’s naked, that his cock is smushed between his stomach and your back. you’ve let a man into your bed, love a man in your bed, you cannot believe it. you have to get out of this oven or you’ll fall back to sleep like this—have to shower and brush your stale tongue, have to hydrate, have to figure out your hair, plan the day ahead.

or, not. no, you dont have anywhere you’d rather be, actually. you flex your glutes, he sighs, and you mull on how your purpose in life might end here: on your side wearing eddie munson like a backpack, his knee bent and nestled between your thighs, his heavy arm depressing your waist. his downy forearm is pressed up under your arm and between your breasts against your sternum, and eddie’s broad and callused hand is clasped tenty around your wrist. god, he’s everywhere, you can taste him from last night, smell yourself on his hands. of course you can’t leave, and he tightens his grip on you with the top arm while he winds the one outstretched under your head around your neck, forcing your chin up and back, snuggling even tighter.

but still, “it’s, hoooot,” you whine, and you shoot your free hand out into the world outside and flip the edge of the blanket down and over your hips as far as you can fling it.

fuck, yes, oxygen. you gulp the blessedly cool air into your lungs and wake up for real as if you’ve splashed water on your face; it tickles your nose.

he gasps at the chill, and you both shiver together at the splashing relief, but your little jolt ends while he keeps up writhing against you. you hum into his elbow ditch, eye closed against your sun-bright room, and kiss each little bat there in turn, then lap up the skin before it dries of his salty sweat. he feels your tongue in his sensitive funny bone like its between his legs, and he squeaks at the tickle. so cute, so fucking cute. you reach your free hand back to take inventory of him and keep up licking and suckling at him, up his arm and down as far as you can crane your head. but eddie releases your trapped forearm and intercepts, capturing the questing hand against your chest where his once was.

even with both hands full he tweaks a nipple somehow and you jerk, moaning only a little in pain. you’re twisting your head back to face him, but he’s tightening his grip, so you give up. “le’mme up,” you say to his bicep, and he lets out another ripping bear-snore.

the sweat cooling where the sweet chilly air rolls across your body is refreshing, and you smack your lips again and swallow against the drymouth. “need water, munson, come on.”

munson hums, faux thoughtful, and grinds his stiffening length against the rift of your ass. you do arch for him, you do sigh, but you hope he doesn’t feel your heart skip, and he says, “I think I know what you need, princess,” and releases one of your hands, freeing his own to drag roughly over your tit, then your stomach, then down between already spreading thighs. with the pillow-arm now braced across your collarbone he rolls you both a bit, just until he’s mostly on his back and you’re a little on top of him, both half-facing the ceiling.

the sweat, the heat, should be uncomfortable, unbearable, but eddie squeezes the luscious chunk of your thigh just at the apex ‘til you wince a bit, and its a different heat entirely that wipes your mind of practical thought. he shakes it just to watch you jiggle, then massages his way down to your knee, spreading you open.the cool air against your sex makes you shiver again— he might be able go feel the goosebumps as they shake you.

those ripples of movement through you make his cock jump, and his hand’s on the outer thigh now, dancing its way to the back of your knee, then hitching it up so your foot falls between his legs.

eddie groans again, short and deep like its wrenched out of him at the slide of his cock against your back, his slit already leaking a snail-trail along the curve of your bum.

“okay, good morning, baby.”

he asks, “can we make a mess?” and you answer by sinking your teeth meanly into his rounded bicep. its supposed to be, “yes please,” that’s what you say, but its muffled by all his ivory flesh in your mouth. eddie hears your accommodating, “yeph, pleaph,” and sets out to prepare his breakfast.

he’s hooking his foot around you knee and trapping your leg open, the prickly scratch of his hair lighting up your sugar-sanded skin like tv static. you press into him for the sensation, and before you can register how fucked you are, he tucks two fingers between your lips and spreads them, exposing your inner folds and swelling clit to the cool air. you hum a breathy ‘uh huh’ around his chewed and reddening arm as he rubs a v-shape up and down your wet lips, and he’s a little distracted with how the sound nudges him on, the little high breath it pulls from him. he’s like a furnace, his exhaust against your face makes you struggle against his grip again.

you’re torn between staying latched and turning to gnaw on his tongue instead, but anyway you repeat your encouragement—‘mm-hmm, mm-hmm!” —right there, exactly right, thank you. its like you’re innocent in this, just answering the rhetorical of his sure fingers. then, after like, eight passes? you realize he’s fucking around with you.

eager now, blood pumping a bit faster, you hump into his palm and he shushes you, so you do it again, and he laughs into your hair when your hips leave the bed to chase him. you grow bolder in your need for him every day, he can’t believe how lovely you are, that you’ve let him see you want him so bad. its a long way from the ice-queen he met all those months ago. but you’re still biting him, slithering your tongue along the seam of his locked elbow, needing the occcupation. not hard, not to bruise, jaw loose enough that he can hear it more clearly when you tell him, “listen, listen— i need water. le’mme up!”

no, actually. he doesn’t think he will.

you can hear the smile. “well, which one is it? you need me more? this?” he says, dipping just a bit below your hole and swiping up, making you twitch hard, “or water?” oh, please. “f-mmm,” you start, but he stills his hand over your heat and cups it like he’s shielding you, a warm cover. he’s got you, you’re safe and held, even trapped in purgatory.

then, “release me, heathen,” he has the nerve to order, so now you’re biting down with intent to harm, force increasing incrementally. he feels you try to fuck up into him again, and he’s running out of time before you break skin. eddie flexes his thigh— gets his heel into the mattress, in what you realize too late is preparation— his leg still traps yours down, a bit of a stretch burning in your inner thigh and hips and making you leak, coating your ass, and your other leg can’t unbend fast enough to close before he pecks your cheekbone through your fluffy hair and then delivers a burst of punishing sharp taps against your clit. the wet slap makes you jerk and squirm as if shocked, heat burning over your cheeks anew. you’re almost shy, now you’ve been scolded.

almost. you’re caving your stomach, curling in against the sting, trying to avoid another onslaught and sinking deeper into the heat building in your stomach, and at last you release his arm with shock, your high choked cries stutter and echo through his head, go straight to the root of him—‘ah—hah- ah!’ they’re forcing your mouth open enough for him to adjust so you can’t take another bite out of him, tighter now so you can’t turn your head.

free now, eddie slides down past your button again and you gasp as his callous catches it on the way down. scratchy, so so good, almost like new. you’re shaking one leg a little, craving more friction, so he dips into the well of sap leaking from your aching pussy, then back up to press lightly against the underside of your clit, swiping left and right, then around and around, no real pattern or rhythm. just reveling in the clicking and squelching of your running wetness.

but he takes pity upon your next raspy, “please? baby, please,” and slows his already slow circles, pulls out from between your slit. “still thirsty,” he concludes, and you’re asking so nicely. you’re so sweet for him in the morning, it seems, so much more willing to melt instead of sharpening, more ready to ask for what you need. he’s gentle in gliding up and down your outside lips, pressing down on them, then releasing your leg and arms together. he drops a kiss to your shoulder and moves to sit up, not breaking all contact, but you miss him behind you already. you grab his hand without thinking, suddenly worried he’s leaving the room but he doesn’t break your grip, just squeezes you back, kisses the corner of your growing pouty frown, and sits up to dangle over the foot of the bed, swinging his legs to lay behind your back.

you’re finally unrestrained but don’t move, can’t, except to press your thighs together and rock them side to side, sliding the two halves of you against each other. you knead idly at one breast, and ghost your finger tips across both nips, watching his body bend, his muscles move beneath his skin. you wait as he sits back up holding your full carafe of water and chugging it. he grips the fancy glass pitcher with both hands and gulps down half the volume, and you recall how he had scoffed at it when he visited your room the first time. you think of the meadow you laid in together, in a position just like this: facing each other, legs extended behind one another, fingers clasped in your weird handshake. like you’re about to play a hand clap game, like he’s going to read your palm. so comfortable hunched together from almost the beginning.

you take the carafe, and gratefully sip as fast as you can for a while as he watches your throat move, you naked chest rising and falling with each breath. his wide brown eyes chase the errant water droplets streaming down your jaw, dripping into your lap. he takes his time checking you out, following the line of you down for a bit, then movement catches his eye. you’re flexing your toes, content, and his hot hand finds your clammy ankle to cradle it, and the warmth spreads up through you, down to your soles. soothing, perfect. outside the bubble of that blanket, you’re colder again than he is, but he’ll let you decide to cover up if the spirit moves you.

he smooths up and down your leg, just because he can, because he knows this familiar ease still sends chills into you, primes you. you announce to yourself, “we have to like, get up and do something. can’t just sit here,” then you’re vulnerable, twisting at the waist to place the mostly empty vessel on your nightstand with both hands; eddie isnt one to waste an opportunity.

“that’s what i’m saying! time for breakfast.”

he’s tying back his hair, smoothing his damp bangs all the way back and lying down. you still haven’t placed the water jug yet— even empty, its solid and bottom-heavy— as he bounces to scoot down the bed, pressing his chest against the strawberry skin of your bum and thick thighs, you exclaim your vexation, almost dropping the thing down and then looking over your shoulder.

“eddie, jesus! can you act like,” and the question is forgotten as he slices his hand between your legs again, widening a gap big enough to fit his head through. your own sense leaves you— your eyebrows shoot up, your smile feels feral, but you let yourself be rolled half on your side again so he can lay more on his back, get one arm under your leg, and hook one hand around the outside of your thigh, hoisting you a little over his shoulder. you think of his rings, of what almost happened. then hes yanking you towards him with a satisfied grunt, so your ass is flush against him. he whispers his thanks at your sex, licking at the oozing evidence of your arousal— “there you are—” and he kisses your pussy with tongue, sucks one lip into his mouth, then the other, lets out a stuttering groan of relief like a starved man at banquet.

“eddie, jesus, eddie.” its a ragged plea, you sound wretched to your own ears, and you don’t know what you’re begging for. maybe a moment to breathe, maybe you just want his name in the air, want him to know how much he kills you, wants his —either way, his chest soars with it, abs flex to the beat. he lives for your pretty mouth around him, even like this. he wants to say, you slay me, you’ll never get it, on your sweat and soft laughter and scowls, i’m sated, but he says:

“s’ no time for saying grace, baby, save it,” and his mouth barely moves around the warning, too focused on lining up his nose against your weepy slit and taking in a big cool breath of air before pressing it in and smothering himself. he wants to kick himself when your giggle is cut short, because its he that robs you of breath when he puckers his lips around you ripe clit and sucks only lightly. you make up the difference when you squeeze his head between your thighs. he’s so at home, its silly.

the press of your thighs, the press of his against your back helping to prop you up. his lovely head peaks only a little past your tummy from this angle, and he sighs happily when your fingers rake through the front of his flattened curls, scratching at his scalp. he’s humping the air like a dog, and you just want to feel him. you reach behind again and this time meet fired iron, the generous sheath of flesh easing his way against your palm. he keens into your pussy as he devours it, hips already stuttering a bit as his eyes screw shut, as you squeeze him at the base of his thick, perfect cock, feel it jump as he knees you gently in the back. you pump it with as much dexterity as you can manage. you start words and can’t finish them, pitch climbing higher and higher as he licks you out and pants into you, pushing you further and further out of orbit.

“f—, sh—, gahh— eddie, mmm eddie yes, please, just like th—hng,” that’s you, trying so hard to sing his praises and failing. he’s too much, this early, and it’s knocking you out.

you work his length, and you’re pulling back the hood of it all and swiping the considerable pool of gelly cum around and around the head of him when he spurts hot a wet across your arm, trembling. you know its not over for him though, not nearly, but you abandon tricks and agility for something simple, letting him fuck your tight hand and twisting a bit, gasping.

he loves you, he loves you, he loves you, and he could live off the creamed honey you’re dripping down his chin, grinding into his face. he presses the message into your heat, with the knob of his nose carving the way through your folds, slurping and suckling to your rhythm. so sensitive, so responsive, he opens his eyes to watch your perfect tits tremble and bounce as your body jerks in time with his work. his tongue is almost too slick as he laps at you, flicking back and forth where you like best just under the crest of your puffy clit, so he presses harder, puts his whole face to work. it says, yes, princess, take whatever you need, fuck yourself on me, i’ll take care of you as long as you allow it.

you didn’t vocalize through the great long huffs of breath you heaved out at first, chest rattling, or moan aloud at the feeling of his nose burrowing deeper and lower with each swipe up and down and up again. but now the pressure is deepening in your gut, the snake of ecstasy curling and twisting you up inside as eddies evil tongue goes impossibly wide and flat, spreading your nectar all about, and he then narrows as he presses into the opening of your cunt. you can feel him testing you, not quite pushing in even though you know he feels you clenching around nothing, sucking him in, asking him in, and he won’t go yet. you’re panting now, and losing patience. you need his tongue inside, and have to say so. “eddie, for fuck’s sake,” and you pull on his scalp when you feel him giggle against you. “eddie, hah- please baby, please can i have it?”

baby, finally, “hmm?” you know he wants you to say it, so you have to, you have to push past the last shreds of prudishness and say to the room, “eddie, baby, please. would you please put your tongue in me? i need it, fuck me? fuck—“ and you hiccup another gasp, and let out a long solid whine as he pushes his tongue and two fingers into your sobbing hole, curling them in opposite directions to spread you open and search for the other buzzer, the vulnerable spongey spot inside you that set your whole body aflame.

he’s gripping your leg so hard it almost hurts, then sliding that hand up to cup one breast without looking, and with the fingers inside massages your spot relentlessly. your abs are seizing and your leg begins to spasm, you don’t have it in you to force quiet the short needy gasps he’s fucking out of you, breathy pants that each end in a whine almost like a question.

in the haze, as you approach your precipice, you grab his hand and make him reach up high to your mouth, where you suck two of his thick square fingers between your lips and bite down, just to keep him still. he presses down against your tongue and sparks dance behind your eyes with impending release.

you just need something to occupy your mouth while you come, he had said once. to shut me up? you had wondered, but no—he was right, when you couldn’t talk, or wouldn’t, you wanted pressure. every hole filled at once, to feel full, covered in him. and he could only oblige, ever the gentleman. you’re saying his name around his fingers, crying it,

and then the trembling reaches its zenith, and you’re bending your body around him, pouring into his mouth like a doomed ray of light around a fresh black hole, fucking his chin like its the last thing you’ll ever do. his gravity pulls you in so profoundly that you’re scared you might scatter into nothing. your gripping his hair so hard you know it has to burn, and the deep buzz of his moans, so throaty and mean they’re more like growls, run through you so deliciously it shakes you in the nape of your neck, curls your toes.

his mouth stays the course, but when the plunge of his fingers stretching you to bursting is joined by his thumb finally breaching the gate of your vicegrip asshole, soaked and winking, a thousand thousand tons of your being condense into an inch of space, your universe turns to one bright burst of white heat as you come all over him, gushing around his agile tongue and fingers with a cry that rips rough through your throat, sobbing high and tight.

you draw your knees up to your chest with him still between them, and he moves his mouth against your pussy still, kissing out of you slowly. then, panting himself, he watches his star collapse.

back against the bed, one arm draped over his legs and the other still clasped over your panting open mouth, shocked ‘o’ of your lips shiny with drool. he doesn’t have to pry your legs open because your limbs are back to jelly, and he doesn’t have to shield his arms from your teeth, because you’re still coming back to the world when he lays his weight on top of you, elbows by your ears holding him up. he coaxes you with kisses, reminds you, “come on, danishes,” and strokes your hair back and off your neck as you spread your legs to wrap around him, feeling his hardness settle wet under your drenched thigh. you come back to him with a deep breath and a soft whistling exhale, eyes fluttering open, and he’s kissing the teary corners of your eyes and grinning. not smug or gloating, just happy.

you say it together as he leans in to press his lips to your slick forehead, “love you,” and you can’t help but roll your eyes. he shivers at your nails along his back, your lashes on his cheek.

all your little tasks can wait, you think again. he looks at you like he has the world in his arms; you close your eyes and thank whoever’s listening for bringing you home.

••••••••••••••

••••••••••••••

••••••••••••••

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie x reader #librastake #ice spice voice you thought i was feelin u!?!?! #this will be an epilogue/ bonus chapter to a chaptered fic i’m putting together soooo lmk if youre into it lol #shuffled around some lines a nd punctuation and yes it will happen again walked home reading THESE COMMENTSSSS THANK YOUUUUUUUUU #mine

[greenbloods]

ENOUGH CHARACTER DISCOURSE TAG THIS POST WITH YOUR FAVORITE DREAM FROM THE BOOKS

https://www.reddit.com/r/asoiaf/comments/1l1er2/spoilers_all_can_we_make_a_list_of_dreams_and/

#ned's fever dream at the tower of joy probably takes the cake #but i have to champion Jon's dream before letting the wildlings through the Wall or i fear no one else will #the one where he slays donal noye and his black brothers and ygritte while ice spiders and Others crawl all around him #such a dream and such a great chapter; probably jon at his angstiest #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls

[mollymarymarie]

Bird Set Free

Chapter One - Clipped Wings

Just as Remus started to rise to his toes to see if he could tell what was going on, Sirius Black stepped through the hoard, with his ever-present, gold-medal-podium smile. Stunned, Remus could do nothing but stare back at him, swallowing nervously as Sirius met his gaze. When Sirius’ silver eyes narrowed slightly in Remus’ direction, it almost seemed like he was searching for something, waiting for something.

Finally, with that curious expression still in place, in his softened voice that carried his definable Russian accent, he smiled, despite the heavy side-eye he was giving to the crowd that was becoming more unruly with Sirius’ continued disregard, and said, “Ignore them. Ready for that photo?”

Read Chapter One on Ao3 

#Wolfstar #Wolfstar fic #Wolfstar AU #Yuri on Ice AU #Figure Skating AU #Remus Lupin x Sirius Black #Remus x Sirius #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Peter Pettigrew #James Potter #Bird Set Free #Chapter One #Clipped Wings #you know what!! #i don't care if my house literally flooded yesterday #i am posting my goddamn fic and i do not give a shit! #i'm tired! #and i need some positive vibes in my life!! #so please tell me if you like this fic!

[eemoo1o-animoo]

He looks so much like Vincent rn.

#the manga #i don’t care if it is or isn’t canon that he’s meant to just LOOK #it’s factual #black butler #kuroshitsuji #sebastian michaelis #sebastian the ice queen #image #original post #shitpost #chapter 101.5 #the butler requested #vincent phantomhive

[venusintheblindspots-blog]

Reading A Clash Of Kings felt like reading a gothic fairytale from the 1800s.

#ASOIAF #a song of ice and fire #especially Sansa and Davos chapters #the battle of black water bay #Theon visiting the iron islands #DAENERYS IN THE HOUSE OF THE UNDYING #sansa stark #Daenerys Targaryen #davos #onion knight

[itsgameofthronesimagines]

Me after finally finishing Chapter 5 of Black of Hair

#guys that chapter alone was like two years in the making #black of hair got #game of thrones #got #asoiaf #the game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones imagines #robb stark fic #robb stark x reader #robb stark imagine #robb stark

[fairymint]

me on the dash like

#prestochange #ooc. #electric tale of Pikachu my beloved...... black fog is alive..... #probably not even remotely an ic opinion but #black fog's chapter in tale is metal af.

[unmeiha-arc]

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 ▹ @royalarmed   ↳ the cruel prince starter prompts

          Her arms fold over her chest, a gloved finger tapping thoughtfully against the armor strapped to her other arm, brows furrowing. Koharu makes no attempts to mask the judgement in the once-over she gives him, however rooted in concern it may be.

          Sharlayan's chill rivaled some of Coerthas' warmer days and though she hasn't been to Thavnair yet, even she had been warned of its heat. Though she cannot say where this journey might take them beyond, she can say that she has long since learned the value of versatile travel wear.

          ❛ ... Do you have something appropriate to wear? ❜

#royalarmed #❀ ic : all 「 物語 」 duty commenced. #❀ ic : verse 「 物語 」 chapter vi.i ❛ a tale of ends. #koharu vc: ur not really going to wear /that/ are u...... lol... lmao even...... one might even say yikes..... #black clothes in thavnair?? too hot. tshirt and cutoffs in garlemald?? too cold. get ur act together noct

[uarmyhusband]

This was my early birthday present from my best friend, Matt 💙

#my stuff #my screenshots #fortnite #chapter 4 #black ice legends #midas fortnite #he’s blue da de de da de da 💙 #golden boi #tag: gaming things #yet another snapshot of the husband to add to my collection

[sepostscreencaps]

SE fans when they see a teenager with dark hair (turns out they only carried one gun so it wasn't him)

From Soul Eater post chapter 3

#soul eater post #death the kid #black star #chapter 3 #man that hand is both disgusting yet strangely majestic like bridgman on ice

[greppelheks]

DONE WITH WORK. (I forgot to celebrate because of the misery (heatwave)) but I've got four days of freedom ahead of me, with lots of fun stuff, and I just ordered incredible sounding indonesian food. Life is good.

#I'm going to the hairstylist tomorrow #and I'm gonna buy a birthday gift for my friend and mother #and treat myself to some ice cream 'cause it's a million degrees #I'm having drinks with my friend slash crush #it's my son's first day of school tomorrow hope he's doing well! #maybe I'll do some shopping for new clothes I'm rebranding myself #ordered a book to improve my administrative skills which will come tomorrow #got some therapy assignments to close off that chapter to get through #and i bought a cute notebook and pen for my russian lessons #my friend is celebrating her birthday on sunday #excited for the week but wishing it wasnt this hot cursing god #personal #my therapist made a comment about me wearing black a lot and it being a representstion of being closed off and protective of myself maybe #so im looking into looking a bit more approachable and open and vulnerable etc #I'll keep the personality but add some color

[foreverdolly]

ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part 3 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』

summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.

warnings: !SMUT HEAVY IN FUTURE PARTS!, feyd is super overprotective in this fic and kills multiple people in your honor, blood and gore, it's a dark romance folks, political marriage, forced proximity, temporary unrequited love, a lil dubious consent in some scenes, there's a lot of talk about breeding, enemies to lovers (in your mind, not his), there's a "who did this to you" scene, knife play, blood kink, breeding kink heavy, lots of scent marking/marking. ( need to edit this later because I'm exhausted right now)

word count: 3.5k

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If the intruder had made another noise then hadn’t been able to hear it. Not over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. Dread washed over you, the blood in your veins turning to ice as you were struck with a sudden realization: 

Either you fought for your life, here and now. . . or you died. 

Your throat locked up, and suddenly you found yourself unable to say anything at all. Shouldn’t you be screaming like a madwoman? Had he seen you undress for the night? Had he been lurking in a corner or a closet as your attendants had run your bath? Was everybody in on this? 

Every nervous smile and antsy movement came rushing back to you. Betrayal slapped you in the face so hard that it stunned you back into motion. 

The knife that you had hidden away in your room after breakfast was shorter than you would have liked- minimal reach, meaning you’d have to get up close to the attacker. Still, you somehow managed to kick the sheets off of you in order to lurch to the side before he was able to brandish his own blade. You heard it cut through the air, the loud tearing of the pillow where your head had just been perched a millisecond ago echoed through the pitch black room. 

You moved towards the door, bare feet against ice cold marble, and finally began to open your mouth to scream for whatever guards were sure to be stationed near the guest quarters. 

“I wouldn’t bother,” The man’s voice sneered, a smile evident in his voice. “No one will save you.” 

There it was. The truth. 

Everyone hated you, but you already knew as much. There was very little you could do in your nightdress- no way you could properly fend off an attacker without any shoes on your feet. Even worse, you had no shield. 

“Why are you doing this?” You questioned, raising the knife so that you were holding it defensively in front of you. You hated how pathetic you sounded with your voice shaking like that. Still, your hands held strong. 

Under immense trauma and stress like this your body had gone into autopilot. Again and again your training has been hammered into you. You must remain calm. Act with surety. 

Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. 

You waited, listening to see if he was getting close to you. The bed creaked, the attacker stepping into a single ray of silver light that had escaped through the blinds.

 It was a guard. 

So this was planned. You should have known enough. You would have thought that Feyd would have been the one to orchestrate the whole thing, but his earlier warning had made it clear to you that he hadn’t wanted you to perish. At least not like this. 

He didn’t say anything else to you before his arm came barrelling down. You stepped to the side, almost tripping over the fabric of your dress in your panic. The cutter blade struck the wall behind you, and in the man’s blind fury he left his side completely defenseless. You surged forward, the knife tightly clutched in your hand, and brought it down hard on his arm. He cried out, the sound nearly deafening you as it echoed off of the empty walls. 

“You bitch!” His weapon clung against the ground. 

Still, his uninjured arm struck against the side of your face. The world tilted beneath you as you stumbled backwards, your spine cracking against the dresser drawer as your knees buckled beneath you. Pain. It felt like he had just drilled a hole clean into the side of your face. No one had ever landed a blow to you like that. The guard took advantage of your stunned state, moving forward so that he could wrap his meaty hands around your throat. 

You needed to use the Voice. He had to stop. . . but his hands were squeezing too tightly. Your lips moved but little more than fearful croaks escaped you. Tears pooled in your eyes at the pressure, at the pain, at the fucking fear that was threatening to swallow you up whole, whole, whole until you were nothing. Your nails scrapped against any bit of skin that you could find. He hissed in pain, using the weight of your own body against you as he slammed you against the dresser where he currently had you pinned. 

You kicked out your legs, desperately trying to find a foothold so that you could wrench yourself upwards. If you were in pants then you might have been able to save yourself, but your bare feet slid out against the loose fabric pooled underneath you. The man had struck when you had been most vulnerable. He was killing you. 

Your eyes widened, the tears finally spilling past the thick wall of your lower lashes. He was killing you. He was killing you. He was killing you. 

With the ringing filling your ears, you hadn’t heard the commotion outside of your door. Only when it slammed open, light from the hall flooding in, did you realize that someone had been alerted. The hands around your throat loosened just enough for you to take a deep, wheezing breath in. 

“Help me.” But you couldn’t reach the correct frequency, not when your vocal cords were so damaged. 

Still, with bleary eyes you stared up at whoever’s large form filled the doorway. Begging them to save you. 

And so they did. 

The world just fell away, like ink on wet paper- it all bled around him. All sound and sight ebbed away, the only thing visible in his rage being your tear filled eyes. Feyd had seen looks of pure terror on the faces of men he had bested countless times before. It never meant much to him. The lives he had taken never weighed heavy on his shoulders. He never cared much for anything aside from his own ambitions. He had goals- found minor joy in sharpening his mind and his blades. 

 He had carried his memories of you from childhood with him into adulthood, each glance and nervous smile acted as a balm that soothed any future traumas or worries. He knew that one day he would be standing exactly where he was right then, with you within arms length. 

This wasn’t what he had pictured throughout the years though. Nothing could have prepared him for what he was currently witnessing. 

Women bled the same as men did. He never felt overly-noble when it came to protecting them, no matter how weak or frail they looked. Feyd understood that it was survival of the fittest. People lost their lives every day in much crueler ways than suffocation. . . 

But the guard had his hands around your throat, and in that moment Feyd no longer saw the proud woman that had managed to nearly knock him off of his feet earlier. No, in that moment you looked just like that six year old little girl he had always cared for so dearly. You looked exactly how he had left you- scared, fragile and innocent. 

Feyd-Rautha wasn’t quite sure what love was, but he could imagine that it must be what he felt for you. Losing you was an impossibility, he’d never let it happen. He couldn’t. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

An eerie sort of calm befell the room, the only sounds being your shaky breaths as you tried to fill your aching lungs with air. The guard didn’t answer him, only stared with fearful eyes up at the Na-Baron. He was looking Death right in the face. 

“Was it your idea to attack her in the middle of the night like this?” Feyd took another step into the room, which had the guard scooting back awkwardly on his knees. “You were going to kill her in the dark like she was no better than an animal.” 

He hadn’t even been brave enough to face you with the lights on. 

Feyd, without turning around, used his foot to close the door behind him. Once again the room plummeted into pitch black darkness. There was a shuffling sound in front of him, the man trying to get to his feet as fast as he could to put some distance between the two of them, but it was too late. Feyd followed the source of the noise and reached out, grabbing the man around the stomach before sinking his blade deep into his neck. A sick wet gurgling noise caused you to let out a small cry. Still, the blue eyed man wouldn’t be offput by your disgust. 

He had to pay for what he did to you. 

And so he dislodged the knife easily, the sharp blade gliding through muscle and skin, and then stabbed again. And again. And again. The guard moaned in pain, trying his hardest to buck and fight Feyd off of him. Even when the man’s legs gave out from under him Feyd followed him, falling to his knees so that he could continue his ruthless assault. 

The Na-Baron grit his teeth, eyes wide as his knife continued to find purchase in the corpse beneath him. The bastard had caused you to suffer. He had hurt you. Feyd didn’t stop there either. He stood up and made his way out into the hallway. 

The rage had made a home somewhere deep in his chest. He didn’t know what to do with so much anger. He needed. . . he needed to make everyone atone for what they had done to you. Did they think that he would approve of their lame assassination attempt? 

“You heard everything and did nothing!” He screamed out at the other guards who stood in the hallway. 

His hands were coated in blood, his black shirt and night pants soaked through, clinging to his skin. All they could do was watch him, unable to say anything at all. Feyd knew that they could not deny his claims. They had all been in on this from the start. 

And so he raised his blade again and did not stop until every man in the hallway was long-dead. 

Not a word had been said since the incident. You didn’t even complain when Feyd had all but dragged you through the halls, rather you followed him as emotionless as a doll. The blood of the fallen marred your arms and crisp white nightdress. It was as if your body had gone into auto pilot. Your mind was lost to you, as you felt as though you were floating off somewhere far away. You no longer existed at all. 

You were just a hollow shell now, in a state of shock that had you shutting down completely. 

Where was he taking you? You didn’t know, nor did you particularly care anymore. 

The guard’s final breaths had sounded wet, probably due to the blood in his lungs. The blade hitting bone. His moans of pain. Those sounds still echoed in your ears, and you were positive that you’d never be able to get them out of your head. 

You’d never witnessed anything like that in all of your life. Someone had been killed mere feet away from you. And yet you weren’t sorry for him. You searched yourself for even an inkling of pity and came up short. The bastard got what he deserved. 

“Why did you have to do that in front of me?” You managed to mumble out. 

Tonight would soon become a memory that would never abandon you. Even in old age you were certain that you would be able to recall every gut wrenching detail of tonights events. When the door leading out to the doorway had opened and illuminated the room, Feyd’s sins had been revealed in full to you. 

The guard was unrecognizable. He no longer looked human to you, his insides turned out. Your betrothed had quite literally gutted your attacker in front of you. 

Your bare feet tracked blood on the floors, the long skirts of your nightgown soaked with another man’s blood. 

“I killed him for you. I wanted you to experience every moment of retribution.” He didn’t turn around to face you as he spoke. Instead he kept his eyes on the hallway, the pupils of his pale blue eyes blown out wide. 

You cast a look down at the hand that was holding your arm in a vice-like grip. He was shaking. It was almost as though he could feel your eyes on his hand. His trembling fingers dug into your soft skin. 

Feyd released you once the two of you were alone in a room together, closing the door behind him and locking it for good measure. You stood there, motionless as you followed the line of his jaw with your eyes. The muscle there ticked a few times as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. He was still agitated, you could tell. 

“You’re starting to bruise.” He motioned towards his own neck. 

Your hand flew up to your throat, poking at the tender skin. It felt hot under your touch- sore too. It would serve as a reminder of how close you had come to death. Tonight you felt nothing. . . but what about tomorrow? Would you ever be able to sleep again? 

“How did you know that I was being attacked?” Your suspicion was beginning to build back up again. There were just too many coincidences. 

“You think I had something to do with this?” He sounded agitated. There was no hint of his usual sarcastic lilt in his tone. 

You’d never seen Feyd like this before. He actually seemed. . . offended but your gentle accusation. 

“You can’t answer my question with yet another question. How did you know I was being attacked?” You might have been in a state of immense shock but you still had some wits about you. 

You were locked in a room with a murderer, and the possibility that he had a hand in your assassination attempt was high. Once again you found yourself utterly defenseless. If he tried to attack you now there was no way that you’d be able to defend yourself. Not only that but your throat was wrecked. You could barely talk at the current moment, meaning you couldn’t even depend on the Voice if you needed to. You were as helpless as a child in the wake of Feyd’s power. 

“I see you in my dreams sometimes.” 

Anyone else would have called him insane, but you were used to Paul’s dreams. They’d been getting even more vivid as he aged. So Feyd had a dream that you were in danger? You found it difficult to believe that he would go out of his way to come to your rescue. Still, here he was. 

“Is that why you warned me today at breakfast?” The pieces were finally beginning to fall into place. He’d known something was going to happen since last night. 

“Yes,” He tilted his head, seemingly deep in thought. “Something told me to go and see you.” 

You didn’t have it in yourself to question him further. You’d have to be satisfied with his answers. What you really wanted was a bath and a fresh change of clothes. One last look at your soiled clothes had your nose wrinkling in disgust. The smell of blood was thick in your nose- so strong that the iron scent almost smelled sweet. You gagged outwardly, putting your hands on your knees as you suddenly dry heaved. 

“You realize that he couldn’t be left alive after what he had done, don’t you?” 

Of course you did. That didn’t make it any better though. Your fingers stuck together, caked in blood, as you balled them into fists at your sides. 

“Bath.” Was all you said, already looking around the room that you assumed was his living quarters for any sign of a tub. 

He didn’t make any complaints as you closed the bathroom door behind yourself. Feyd gave you the time to process everything, didn’t knock on the door even once as the minutes ticked by. You stayed in the water until your fingers pruned and rubbed your skin until it was raw. Blood was everywhere. Under your nails, between your toes- it had even soaked through your dress and now caked your lower legs and thighs. 

You threw on a thin cotton robe you found neatly folded on a small towel rack, tying it tightly around your waist before you built up the courage to face your fiance again. 

“Take me back to my room.” You were eager to fall asleep. 

You’d been through too much. The thought of having to be conscious was tiring in itself. If you could close your eyes and sleep for the next ten years then you would. 

You missed your home. You missed your parents and Paul. You missed stability and security. Your life felt lost to you now. 

“This is your room now.” He was laying on the bed, already in a change of clothes. He seemingly took a bath himself while you had locked yourself away. There was no trace of gore left on him now. 

Your mouth went dry, palms pooling with sweat. Surely you were understanding him incorrectly. 

“You can’t expect me to sleep in the same room with you. We aren’t married.” There was absolutely no way your parents would approve of something like this. 

“I don’t trust anyone besides myself with your safety.” 

You didn’t trust anyone. Especially not Feyd. 

“Why should I be expected to sleep with you? I don’t feel comfortable-” 

“I will kill anyone that lays a finger on you again. Let that pile of bodies act as a warning to anyone else that tries. That’s why you should be expected to stay here with me. Get in the bed.” He seemed tired. Aggitated. 

“No.” You held strong. Never in your life had you slept in the same room as a man, let alone someone like Feyd-Rautha. He’d sooner kill you in your sleep then anyone else would. 

“Come here.” His tone caused you to jump. 

You had to bite your tongue as you approached him, sitting down awkwardly on the bed before you finally succumbed to his wishes. The bed was softer than your own, which you immediately envied. The soft mattress enveloped you, and all at once the tiredness you hadn’t felt until then finally sank in. 

You didn’t put up much more of a fight. Your eyes were beginning to close on their own accord. Feyd was watching you, turned on his side so that he could get a better look at you. It was then, for the first time ever, that you fully noted how beautiful he was. Up close like this he was even more striking. Blue eyes, full lips and pale, flawless skin. 

One thing that went unnoticed by you was the fact that Feyd didn’t turn the lights off. 

Without having to ask. . . he didn’t turn the lights off. 

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ೃ࿔ savage bonds taglist:

@elf-punk @shitfuckeryclownverse @mydarlingelvis @heartarianagran @ohdearmaggie @chalametism @killingboredom @obsessedvibee @avidreader73 @softboo @tedcruzumakii @luminnara @narniansmagic @torchbearerkyle @ziggy-stardust-world @tian-monique @adoxra @zz-snow-zz @tiredsleepyhead @icontrolthespice @itsparksjoyhuh @verveta345 @shegatsby @zae5 @ertepla @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @lotus-888 @meetmeatyourworst @moonchild-artemisdaughter @abswifey @flower-frog @auroranodyssey @forgedfromthestars @moony-artemis @juliskopf @moonsoulk @serrendiipty @atrxidxs @the-ruler-of-death @mintoblobo @just-pure-trash @randominterwebthings @springholland @so-dramatic1 @ashy-kit @aslutforscarletwitch99 @sofia-013 @gamorxa @ricecakeslove @alexandrainlove @selfishlittlebeing @ceres27

#feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #dune part two #dune part 2 #dune #austin butler #austin butler x reader #smut #dune smut #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune x reader #dune x you #dune fanfiction #feyd rautha fic #austin butler fic

[raddishwrites]

Are y’all fuckers ready for part two?

#it’s orange bc fsr night mode makes the text black now tho it didn’t used to? #anyway step one is to screw up the tag order for the third time and never fix it ever #this Sunday! it’s ready to go (chapter one anyway)! (except for the title) (I have a list of potentials at least) #I’m excited #idk how many people will continue on with me but hey probably at least one! #btw Connor ‘is this a date’ has more courage than I do and that’s just… really sad #I tried an iced mocha in his honor and it sucked and now he must be punished #if you put a blorbo into tepid water and slowly raise the temperature degree by degree the water can boil and the blorbo won’t die #resting this theory is the spiritual idea behind part two #(that’s a joke) #(he put himself into the pot) #(if i dont make anyone cry and also yell at me idk whatvim doing with my life tbh)

[mollymarymarie]

Bird Set Free

Chapter Seven - Unhinged 

As he turned to wave to the side of the rink that was behind where he stood, that was when he saw him. Across the ice, leaning on the wall at one end, was Sirius Black, looking at Remus much the same way as he had the night before, when he saw Remus wearing his free skate outfit. He looked a bit more disheveled than he had the night before, like he hadn’t slept at all since then. 

His hair was an absolute disaster, tied back into a disorderly knot at the crown of his head, his usually straight hair coiled and frizzy all across the top of his head. The dark circles underneath his eyes were like charcoal painted on his pale skin, sharply highlighting the silver flash that shone through his somber lashes. 

And when he looked at Remus then, with Remus looking back at him, his whole countenance softened. The dark circles didn’t look so dark, his hair looked more purposefully tousled than absently bedraggled. He looked free.

Read Chapter Seven on Ao3.

#Bird Set Free #Chapter Seven #Unhinged #More Nick Jonas #Wolfstar #Wolfstar fic #Wolfstar AU #Figure skating AU #Yuri On Ice AU #Remus x Sirius #Remus Lupin x Sirius Black #The chapter you've all been waiting for #it's saturday #lets have a new chapter #thought it might be rude to make you wait more

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || 141 x Reader

[ Chapter 9 ] || [ Chapter 11 ]

Pairing: Ghost x gn!Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.7K~ Tags: NO SMUT, simon is a flirt, first kiss, simon has a PIERCING, simon needed to be held okay? Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: ghost HAS MADE THE MOVE.

Chapter 10: SIMON?!

You had entered the pub looking for someone who you didn’t know. Unlike with John, you didn’t even have a picture of Simon’s face to go off of.

Not that you had needed one. Going inside and scanning the room, you immediately spotted a tall, blond man with a black mask holding a tumbler of whiskey. He was leaning against a back wall by the dartboard, one foot propped up on the wall behind him.

Tall, blond, and a fan of Bourbon. Check, check and check.

You had made your way over almost immediately, being greeted with a squinting of his eyes and a dipping of his head off to the side.

“You look good.” He had said before raising a finger in the air and spinning it, beckoning you to give a little spin. Which you did.

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” You had retorted as he pulled away from the wall and guided you to the bar, one hand on your shoulder, so he could pay you for the drink, as you had so salaciously demanded on Tinder.

After that, he took you outside, to a table in the corner of the outdoor area of the pub. He parked himself on a lone armchair, legs spread and his position relaxed, spine curled ever so slightly, to make him take up less space. As if that’s somehow possible.

Then, Simon tapped his palm on his lap, beckoning you to sit, which you did without question. His hand circled around your waist, pulling your back to press against his chest.

He felt you press your ass back against his bulge, which earned you a dark rumble of a chuckle right into your ear. “Not as shy as I expected you’d be.” He had whispered.

“You’re the one who made me sit on your lap.” You had retorted as you looked back at him, only to get your head swiveled forward once more by his firm hand on your jaw.

“Eyes forward.” He had demanded. “I wanna drink in peace.” He had told you. He was bossy, but not exactly in a bad way.

“I guess that answers my question.” You had told him as you sipped from your own glass. Behind you, Simon did the same. You could hear the ice clinking against the glass as he dipped the tumbler back to sip from.

“Which one?” He had asked after a wet swallow of his drink and smacking his lips lightly.

“If you were going to wear the mask.” You had answered.

“It’s for your own benefit.” He had retorted.

“How’s that?” You had asked, daring to turn back to look at him, only to be stopped by his firm hand on your jaw, correcting your gaze away again, wordlessly.

“I’m not exactly a pretty sight under this.” He had told you. “Would rather not scare you off.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.” You had retorted. “And I doubt you could scare me off.” You added. “Though…” You had trailed off, thinking for a moment. “I won’t deny that if you’re like… super disfigured I might have a bit of a reaction to it at first.” You had told him sincerely.

That had earned you another rumble of a laugh behind you as he leaned in, pressing his chest a bit more against your back.

“Tell you what.” He had said softly in your ear. “I’ll let you have a glimpse soon enough, if the night ends up going the way I wish for it to.”

-

After a few hours getting to know each other, in which Simon kept up his promise of being honest within reason, you ended up at a McDonald’s parking lot, eating greasy food in the front seat and talking some more about all sorts of things. 

You told him about your ex, about your family, about work, about your current obsessions in a certain TV show, a certain videogame, a certain actor… And he returned with his own. Who would’ve thought that this mysterious, sort of strange, guy would like Pedro Pascal?

He made you laugh, his sense of humour extremely morbid and sarcastic and his deliveries deadpan, but just smart enough to draw laughter out of you… And whenever you retorted with a smartass comment of your own, you swore you saw him smiling… Even if the mask was in the way, the corners of his eyes crinkled.

And you made sure to dutifully look away when he loosened his neck gaiter at the bottom, in order to stick fries and nuggets and his drink straw under it…

At midnight, you found yourself being dropped off at home… And just like it happened with John, you found yourself not quite wanting the night to end…

So you invited him upstairs.

-

It’s 5 A.M. when you find yourself waking up in his arms, stirring awake ever so slightly by his movement.

The sun is starting to rise, lighting the room ever so slightly, and making it so you can kind of see a few shadows of your furniture around the room.

Bleary-eyed and groggy, you rub your eyelids, finding Simon’s silhouette still next to you and looking at you.

“You alright?” You ask him softly, receiving a soft ‘Mhm’ in return. You pull yourself away from his arms, leaning up on one of your elbows to look at him.

“Had fun last night.” He tells you as he stretches a bit. “Should probably be heading back to base in a minute, though.”

Your bare leg rubbed lightly against his thigh which was still clad in denim, a consequence of the two of you having had some sort of… sleepover. That’s the best way of putting it.

“I’m glad. I had fun too… Weirdly enough.” You reply as you start to sit up in bed as well. “Never did think I’d end up getting… laid but… not. ‘Laid together in bed’, I guess?” You joke a bit, still too groggy to really make a joke.

“Can just call it cuddling.” He replies as he pulls the covers back a bit in order to sit up and turns on your bedside table lamp, lighting the room in a warm-toned orange-y light and casting shadows further toward the door and the hall.

He still has that neck gaiter of his on over his features, or… maybe he took it off and put it back on? You can’t be sure, you were asleep.

After coming home, you talked some more, played Mario Kart on your switch, watched a horror movie, during which he complained way too much about the realism of the blood splatter and the injuries… And then you kind of… cuddled to sleep.

“I think we both needed this.” You tell him as he nods his head. “Haven’t gotten a good cuddle in… well, ages… And you’re surprisingly comfortable.” You add.

“Definitely.” He tells you, his eyes squinting a bit again. “I… like you.” He admits.

“I… Thank you?” You reply as you sit up in bed next to him, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“That felt wrong to say aloud. Felt a little bit like a little boy in the playground.” He admits and chuckles at himself.

“Yeah… Well… I like you too.” You reply and chuckle as well at how silly it feels to say it so openly.

“Of course you do.” Simon retorts, his tone still flat and deadpan even as he spoke himself up and acted cocky.

“Oh piss off, Simon… It’s too early to deal with your shit right now.” You grumble and nudge at him with your elbow.

“Oh, c’mon… You dealt with it all night last night.” He tells you as he leans over, getting his face close to yours, the neck gaiter just softly grazing against your shoulder.

“Shut up.” You reply, a smirk on your lips. His eyes crinkle into a smile as well, which makes your smirk soften into a little smile.

You gently grab his face with his hand which makes his eyes widen and, as a reflex, he grabs your wrist and stops you from pulling down/up his untucked neck gaiter and show you his face.

This had happened a couple times last night. One of which was you trying to tuck a corner of his mask into his neck had earned you a grab from him, that only relaxed when you explained your intentions.

He’s a deeply mistrusting person, you’ve noticed… And you are strangely intrigued by it.

“Relax.” You tell him. “I’m not going to pull it off.” You assure him once more, which makes him relax.

Instead, you lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek, right on the edge where the mask meets his cheek, your lips softly brushing the stitching of the top of the gaiter. 

His breath hitches and his eyes close for a moment, seemingly basking in the warmth of your little kiss.

As you pull back, his eyes snap open again and he rushes forward, grabbing your whole jaw with his large, rough hand before pulling your whole face toward him once more.

His other hand moves the gaiter up just enough to capture your mouth in his, but not enough to earn you a glimpse of his features. 

His mouth is warm, his lips chapped and dry to shit, and his tongue is… Is that a piercing? Your eyes double in size when your tongue rubs against the cold metal nubs of his barbell piecing.

Simon’s eyes are open too, the corners crinkled in amusement at your shocked reaction. He keeps his grip on your jaw as your eyes slowly fall closed, giving into the kiss.

It’s completely different compared to John’s kisses, or Ethan’s back when you were together. Simon kisses like he wants to take your breath away.

After a moment, he pulls back, the neck gaiter quickly falls back down to cover his face and when your eyes open, it’s as if nothing happened. Simon is up on his feet, putting on his boots and leather jacket.

“We should do this again.” Simon tells you. “I’ll text you.” He adds and winks at you before turning and walking out of your room.

After a moment, you hear the front door of your apartment close and there you are, left sitting in bed, blinking away the shock.

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