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ghost-proofbaby · 3 months

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IT WILL COME BACK (E.M.)

"honey, don't feed me - i will come back."

summary: when eddie came back from the upside down, he was different. and you finally come to realize just how different the man you saved truly is one night, when push comes to shove.

pairings: kas!eddie munson x reader

warnings: mentions of BLOOD (in sexual manner), mentions of BITING (in sexual manner), allusions to possible coercion (consent is still explicitly stated - trust me), mentions of death and trauma, mentions of eddie's canon death, taking a lot of creative liberty with expansive vampire lore across all media, mentions of murderous dreams? (eddie dreamt about killing reader idk), oral (f receiving), smut. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT - 18+ ONLY.

wc: 7.7k+

a/n: i told y'all i'd write a serious biting/blood kink fic one day - today is the day. very lazily edited so beware.

When Eddie came back from the Upside Down, he was different.

There were subtle changes at first. Small, minute details that were easy to ignore. Everyone could turn a blind eye to them — everyone figured they would fade once the boy healed. His healing was first priority, and whatever lingered after could be dealt with.

Get Eddie better. Then question all that lingers.

A simple plan. A genius plan. A torturous plan.

The two of you had been friends, if you could even call it that, prior to it all. Teasing in the hallways, working on school projects here and there when in shared classes, he was your favorite (and only) dealer when you craved something to make sleep come just a little bit easier. He had been familiar — an old ghost you'd grown comfortable with, long before you’d seen those large and wet eyes looking back up at you in the boathouse.

Long before he’d pieced together the puzzle pieces as to why you’d needed the weed to cancel out the nightmares. Long before he’d processed exactly what those nightmares entailed.

But then, you’d fought for him. You’d fought with him. And most importantly, you’d bled with him.

God, you had bled for him.

Something admirable had blossomed in that short time. Eddie’s entire life had fallen apart, thread by frayed thread, and that new planted emotion had been the only solid thing to emerge for him to absolutely cling to. You were more than a fellow classmate to pass by in the hallways. You were more than his favorite customer, always weaponizing fluttering lashes and puckered lips for a discount he’d have given you regardless.

You were a force to be reckoned with, and had ignited a hunger in him like no other.

That’s all he had thought it was when he’d awoken in his living room — not the distorted version but the real one — to you screaming for the others to help you as you’d sealed his wounds. That’s all he had thought it was when you’d come to visit him as wounds turned to scars, and stabbing pains turned to hungering pangs. So he had tried to bury it, listen to Harrington and Wheeler and Buckley when they told him to take time to readjust. He’d locked away that hunger and focused on his healing, just as everyone else had, and told himself it was just residual feelings.

Residual feelings had been bound to happen after seeing someone bloody their hands, with your own blood, for your survival.

And in his burial, he’d never considered a similar hunger igniting somewhere deep within you.

You visited far more often than you should have. Returning time and time again to change his bandages, taking on one too many shifts at the hospital during his unconscious spells and baring your teeth for anyone who got too close. The sweet blood on your hands hadn’t washed away in that first shower; you swore, if you looked closer, you could still see the stain of nearly losing him across your knuckles.

Physical wounds were easier to heal than the internal ones. It was easier to lather on antibiotic lotion than it was to sleep soundly at night. Both of you came to realize that quickly in the weeks that followed Eddie’s return from the dead.

His nights were plagued with bad dreams, with thirst and cravings he couldn’t quite name. He’d wake up, burning up from the inside out with a fever that never existed. Tearing skin. Puncture wounds. Blood spilling across floors and his lips alike. He could never tell if the shivers that traced his spine had been from the cruel visions that had become his nightly visitors or if it was due to his perpetual drop in temperature that had worried Nancy since the very first night home from the hospital, that had concerned the nurses who piled blankets atop him during his week long sleep of recovery.

Your nights were even less kind. Horrific memories were the demons that haunted you — remembering the way you had watched Eddie cut that sheet rope, remembering finding him bloodied on the ground, remembering the warmth of his blood seeping across your palms and how when your ear had turned just as heated with it as you pressed it to his chest. Only to hear nothing. Emptiness.

His heart had stopped for minutes. Plural.

It had been your steady rhythm, your desperate hands and your gasping breaths breathing into his lungs. You’d sunk your claws into him, caught them right between his ribs and had decided he couldn’t leave you.

Some nights, when you wake up screaming, you can still taste his blood on your lips. You sometimes still swore that when you’d checked for a pulse after that, you hadn’t heard anything. Still worried that Eddie Munson’s heart never really restarted and resumed beating.

The worst was when you’d stare through the faded grey of mornings plastering across your room’s walls, and could still remember that initial look in his blown out pupils, once honey brown swallowed in pure black as he’d taken his first breath on his own.

Hunger.

You’d felt it, too. Shame riddled you on the nights you’d come down from the nightmares and remember it; it was as though the Universe had snapped back into place the moment you’d watched his chest first rise. A need so ardent to remain at his side. A chain clicking into place, binding both yourself and Eddie to one another, unaware of just what price had been paid to keep the boy that had laid under you in this world. Unaware of the hunger you had struck the match too that would become both your downfalls.

And so it had been buried. Something alive, even with your doubts of Eddie’s liveliness, and choking on dirt while six feet under. You and Eddie, two sides of the same coin, had decided to not speak of it. He never told you how he had come to be able to pinpoint your heartbeat in every shared room he entered, throat burning as his gaze always settled on you, and you never told him of the matching aches that had shamefully sparked within your chest and between your hips for him.

A hunger to be near one another. A hunger to devour. Neither of you really understood the heaviness.

“How are you feeling today, Eddie?” Steve asks as he sits on the edge of the new bed in the new apartment in the new part of town the Munson men now occupy.

Government money could go a Hell of a long way. Especially after your home had been devastated by the aftermath of alternate dimensions and unheard of evil being defeated.

“Fine,” is the only response Eddie can muster.

In reality, every time anyone came near him now, he burned. His throat tightened till it was surely raw, he swore his teeth sharpened until a mere slip of his tongue against his canines could bring the taste of metallic blood to his mouth. His entire body would tense with every person that walked through his door.

Control. Whatever was happening to him, Eddie needed to exercise control.

“Just fine?” Steve continues on, not catching the drift as he puts down the bag of things he’d bought at Eddie’s request. Basic things — painkillers, packs of cigarettes, a 6-pack. Some habits die harder and can’t be controlled, “You look like shit, Munson.”

“Gee, thanks, Stevie.”

Everyone had assumed the dark shadows beneath Eddie’s eyes would fade. They assumed his cheeks would eventually fill back out. They assumed he could wash away the ashen shade his hair now flatly flowed in. It was as if the life had been drained from Eddie since that day, and they had all assumed it would eventually flow back into him.

It never did. Just as his new hunger lingered, so did the look of Death.

“Sorry, man,” Steve throws his hands up, shrugging a bit before he stands, “Just being honest. It’s the best policy.”

“Is it? Is it really?”

If honesty was the best policy, Eddie could have filled the room with it. He could admit about the nightmarish wants, needs, he’d been keeping at bay. He could admit the way his irritation had been growing this last week every time another body, another friend, walked through his doorway and it wasn’t you. You, who had begun to plague the night terrors. You, who Eddie was beginning to crave far more than he had before he’d stared the afterlife down the barrel of the gun.

Steve just looks at Hawkins’ newest zombie boy, sighing, “Look, I don’t know what’s got you pissed off-“

“The whole dying thing, for starters.”

“-or why you’ve insisted on being an asshole to all of us these last few weeks-“

“Again, I died.”

“-but you’ve got everyone but me scared to visit you. We’re all scared of you biting our heads off, dude,” Steve finally finishes with a scowl.

Everyone. It’s unspoken that you’re included in the generalization.

It occurs to Eddie that maybe, just maybe, he should be kinder if he ever wants the ache of yearning to see you again to fade. If that’s what he could call this ache.

By the time Steve has left, Eddie’s still thinking about his warning. About the way he had been unusually cruel since coming back to life, since waking up handcuffed to a hospital bed. It made sense initially. But he wasn’t handcuffed to a hospital bed anymore — he was home, or as close to home as he could get, and he was technically safe.

The issue was that he’d accepted his safety. Everyone who had wanted Eddie Munson dead was now six feet under themselves. No, the bigger issue at hand was everyone else’s safety.

Your safety.

Once he’d realized you were the staring lead in his violent fantasies, he had stopped calling. Half of your absence last week had been his fault.

No one really bothered to look deeper into it. Steve didn’t press as to why Eddie’s fridge had remained empty, Nancy didn’t take second glances at the odd books on vampire tales that were now littering all the free real estate of Eddie’s room, and you hadn’t questioned the coldness of his tone whenever he spoke to you. The chill of his words had grown icier than his own palms, desperate to keep you at arm’s length until he figured out what had changed in him that day he came back to life.

He wanted you near. He wanted to rip your throat out. He wanted your blood to stain his mouth and neck just as his had stained your hands. That was an issue. That wasn’t normal.

Something had changed in Eddie Munson, and it had terrified him to his twisted core, and no one had cared enough to notice. Not yet.

–

It took you two weeks to be fed up with the radio silence.

Eddie stopped calling even Jonathan (the only one of the group he found he didn’t want to devour whole, as it turns out). When everyone had mentioned it in passing, it had only reminded you of the sleepless nights you’d be enduring. That small voice in the back of your head that had called out to you in the dead of night, the whisper of come to me that echoed all the way across a broken town.

Come to me.

Sometimes you swore it was Eddie’s voice calling to you. Sometimes, you nearly left your own new apartment in the dead of night, and let your legs guide you to the undead boy you had single-handedly revived.

Tonight was one of those nights. Your stomach was twisting, your head was pounding, your bones were aching. Every single inch of you hurt as it listened to that soft calling, and at some point, you gave in.

Hunger. You were insatiable with the need and drive to be at Eddie’s side. Warnings from the others be damned.

One thing leads to another. You find your coat, you find your car keys. You find yourself driving the deserted streets of Hawkins in the middle of the night. You find yourself on the Munson doorstep, knuckles shaking and aching with the knowledge that just beyond the wood of the door, he was there. You don’t have to see him to feel him; his thrumming presence, his anchoring existence.

Come to me.

The door swings open before you get the chance to knock. This string tying your two souls together is not a one-way channel, it seems.

“Why are you here?”

You watch him wince as the harsh words leave him. Immediately, you know that the abrasiveness is on instinct. Just as something claws inside of you to be near him, there is something within him howling to keep you far from him.

The polarity of two magnets. Some nights, surely, his twists in a way that would draw him to you, just as yours will twirl with the sensibility that whatever has changed within him should give you cause to run as far away from him as possible.

But tonight, your magnetism only yanks you closer to him. He doesn’t even invite you in, and yet, you find yourself stepping over the threshold of the new apartment.

“You’ve gone quiet,” you whisper as an answer. It’s not what he wants to hear, grimace deepening, nearly a scowl now, “I just… It’s been weeks. I…”

I missed you. I needed you. I heard you in my dreams and I’ve never had much self-control when it comes to you.

Magnets are a useless metaphor for whatever is happening here between you. A better comparison would be the cliche image of a moth to a flame; he’s dangerous, threatening to burn you alive, and you still find your heart fluttering after him hopelessly. You’re going to get scorned, and you’ll still never learn. You’ve fallen victim to a tired narrative that you’d rolled your eyes at in a plethora of books. How many times had you sworn that wouldn’t be you? Just how many eye rolls had you exhausted at the mere idea?

And now, here you were, on his doorstep. Grasping for something you’re not sure either of you can give.

“I’ve been dealing with a few things,” he mutters as he shuts the door behind you, shielding you both from the chill of the night. The room is still cold, especially in his radius, “Didn’t think it would make much of a difference.”

“You didn’t think I’d care if you just stopped calling?” you turn slowly, taking in the state of the living room. Wayne was clearly gone for the night, work most probably, and several books littered the coffee table. Eddie had been the one reading them, lounging on the couch.

The last time you had seen him, he couldn’t even sit up in bed on his own.

He’s keeping an unusual distance, nearly leaning back out of your vicinity, “Figured you were busy.”

He’s never been this short with you. His words are choked up, his body tense with pain. You assume it’s just his injuries bothering him.

You couldn’t be more wrong, but you’re completely unaware.

“I brought you back from the dead, and you think I’d still be too busy for you,” you laugh humorlessly, fully in disbelief at his pitiful excuse, “Eddie, we could find out Vecna didn’t really die, those damn cracks in the Earth could open right back up, and the first person I’d care about finding is you.”

The animal inside that had been yearning for his presence is satiated for now, but you can still feel it lurking in the darkest depths of your mind, ready to call out a new request at any moment. It’s the distraction that has you spilling pathetic truths.

The only response he offers you is a dead stare. With eyes wide, pupils nearly swallowed up by darkness.

“You could have called,” your voice cracks, body shaking with the effort not to take a step closer to him, “You could have just let me know you were still alive.”

“I-”

He cuts himself off when he’s the one taking a step closer. His entire face twists with pain, and you give up keeping your distance. In an instant, you’re at his side as your hand reaches out for his bicep.

He flinches away. Something inside of you burns.

Your hand is hovering in the air between the two of you, and in this lighting, you swear the skin is still stained with the blood that won’t wash away.

“Please don’t,” he begs, “I’m fine, but… please.”

You don’t know what he’s begging for. Distance, for you to pull your hand away, time – you don’t know what he needs.

“We should sit down,” you insist, finally pulling your hand as far from him as possible but making no move to put the space back between you two, “Has anyone helped you with your bandages? If your wounds got infected-”

“They didn’t.”

“If you didn’t change the bandages, they definitely could have-”

“They’re not infected,” he grits out, but he’s still walking over to the couch regardless, “They’re healed.”

Healed.

Mere weeks ago, those wounds were still deep enough to keep you from ever achieving a full night's rest. Deep enough to worry you to the core that you would wake up to them finally having consumed him. Deep enough that you all assumed it would take him months, not weeks, to recover.

“What do you mean they healed, Eddie?” you whisper, almost reaching out for him as he sits down.

Your hand twitches, but the echoes of his begging and his flinching keep it at bay as you stand before him.

“I mean, they healed,” he huffs, nostrils flaring as he takes deep breaths. He’s looking anywhere in the room but at you, his gaze subverting you with purpose. As though the mere sight of you, the mere proximity, is painful to him, “Don’t know how, don’t know why – they just did.”

“So why are you still in pain?”

A sharper intake of breath. A hush of silence falling over the apartment. Even the buzz of the building’s AC unit has faded from all your senses. It’s just you and him, and a heavy quietude like no other.

Until he finally breaks the surface tension, breathing out, “You.”

Your heart drops. That tug inside your chest, the one taut as you look at him right within your reach yet still so far away, almost snaps.

“Me?”

He nods with a harsh swallow, “I- Look, I can’t explain it, but when I came back, I came back…”

“Different?”

He doesn’t have to explain it. You’d felt it.

The moment his eyes had opened, just moments after what should have been blissful victory. The taste of his blood heavy on your tongue, a terrible sweetness that had choked you rather than its initial metallic twang. The whispers of his voice in your mind.

He wasn’t the only one changed from whatever had occurred that night.

“Different is a good way of putting it,” he nods, looking up with apologetic eyes, “It’s not you. It’s cliche as fuck, but it really isn’t – it’s me. I died, and you brought me back, but I don’t think either of us knew the cost.”

The yearning. The nightmares. The unmanageable needs. The hunger.

“What was the cost?”

He almost doesn’t hear you. Your voice is a whisper, tone weighed down with the curse of knowing.

You might not have known the cost when you were pressing your palms into his chest through your wretched sobs, functioning as his heart and lungs for nearly a minute, but you think you might have a clue now.

All that had been tethering you to him since he’d come back to you, all those webs and strings that had formed their knots around both of your necks. He’d changed, and you had plummeted right into the chasm of the unknown with him.

His blood on your tongue, sweet as honey.

Blood shouldn’t be sweet.

He grabs one of the books off the coffee table, motioning for you to join him on the couch. Under the weight of your realization, you’re nearly under a trance. All he has to do is wave a hand, and you follow.

You’re at his beck and call. Just like you had been when he’d been calling out for you, yearning for you.

“Don’t make me say it,” he mutters under his breath, tossing the book into your lap the moment you’ve sat down. This time, you’re mindful to keep your distance.

This time, you’re painfully aware of the compromising situation the two of you have found yourselves in.

The book is older, leather-bound and worn from years of readers’ careless hands breaking the spine. The corners of every page are weather, close to disintegration. The entire thing could easily pass for a Halloween decoration.

It’s not. You flip open to the title page, and if Eddie didn’t appear so deathly serious at your side, you would have scoffed.

“Dracula?” you question carefully, running a finger over the delicate script of the title, “Eddie, I don’t-”

“I’m not insane,” he interrupts you, “I’m not fucking- I swear to you. I’ve gathered up every goddamn book about it that I can. Fictional, nonfictional. Just- there’s obviously a Hell of a lot more fictional material to work with, okay?”

A vampire. He’s convinced he’s a vampire.

And even worse – you’re convinced right along with him.

You turn your head to look at him, trying to find the right words, but all you find is Eddie burying his face in his hands, head nearly hung between his knees.

“I can’t eat normal food anymore,” his voice is muffled, “That was the first sign. Couldn’t stomach it, made me throw up for hours when I tried. And then all those nurses kept talking about how I was healing faster than they expected. Most of my smaller cuts – those healed in under a day,” he finally lifts his face just enough to turn and peer at you through all the stray curls that fall into his vision, “My vision and hearing were the next things I noticed. Remember how I had a nonstop migraine those first few days?”

He doesn’t need to convince you, but the argument is compelling, “It… wasn’t a migraine.”

He shakes his head. “Not even close. Just turns out that it’s a killer to get used to fucking superhuman night vision and impeccable hearing. I still can’t handle being out in the sun very long. I don’t… burn up or any of that shit, but… it just…” he trails off, shoulders falling in defeat before he throws himself back against the couch. When he continues, his tone is flat, devoid of all emotion, “I keep having these dreams about you, too. Bad dreams. Terrible dreams.”

You shut the book, toss it back onto the coffee table, and decide to Hell with keeping your distance.

You need it. Even if he’ll only allow you to get an inch closer to him, you need it.

“What do you mean by terrible dreams?” you ask, breath catching at the end of your question as you scoot yourself closer on the couch. Even with such a small movement, Eddie is quick to notice, eyes flicking to you quickly with a sense of urgency flashing behind them.

“Don’t,” he lowly warns.

“What’s happening in your dreams, Eddie?”

Another inch closer. His jaw clenches.

“Sweetheart, do not-”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. Your knee bumps into his thigh, and you watch him go rigid. Hands turning to fists, eyes pinching shut and face twisting with the same pain he’d worn the ghost of when you first arrived at the apartment.

The moment you touch him, you see it. The flashes of his nightmares, all those terrible actions haunting him every time he closed his eyes. You. Your blood. That hunger.

Like a blackhole in the center of your stomach, it burns viciously as it sucks the air out of your lungs. It threatens to cave your entire being into itself until there’s nothing left. Not even a crumb of who you once were.

But it's not yours. It’s Eddie’s.

That pain on his face is only exhibiting a fraction of what he was feeling. That dizzying craving that he’d miraculously been keeping at bay since you’d simply entered the building, not even yet knocking on his door. You hadn’t even been in the same room as him yet, and he had still known. Had smelt you, had felt you.

He could almost taste you.

“You…” you have to shift your knee away from him, break the touch, break the connection, “You haven’t fed since you woke up.”

“I haven’t fed, period.”

With the connection severed, he somehow finds it in himself to open his eyes once more. You don’t know how – if he’s feeling what you’d just been privy to, you’d be an incoherent mess on the floor. Something feral and unrecognizable.

Although, maybe he was nearly there. You couldn’t see his pupils. That same look when he’d first woken up – a man swallowed whole by hunger.

“You’ve been dreaming about ripping my throat out,” you say it as a matter of fact, not a lick of judgment in your tone.

It wasn’t you scrutinizing him. It was what you had seen, with one simple touch.

His voice is hoarse as he echoes in confirmation, “I’ve been dreaming about ripping your throat out.”

You should probably be afraid. All your survival instincts should be kicking in, your feet should be carrying you towards the door, you shouldn’t be leaning in closer.

“You know what really sealed the whole vampire ordeal though, sweetheart?” he breathes out, your eyes fluttering shut at the lull in his hushed tone.

Just as you’ve been leaning in, he’s been slowly turning his body to face yours, hands twitching at his sides. He’s no longer retreating from your presence, sucking down breaths in harsh gulps the closer you grow to him.

He’s losing control. You’re losing control.

That thread, vibrant red as it draws you near him, is clear as day now. A noose around your neck. A road to your damnation.

A road to your hunger.

You hardly hum in response, completely entranced now. Had he ever been capable of this before? Of holding you beneath such an inescapable spell with such ease?

Probably.

He doesn’t use his words to answer. Instead, he finally takes the plunge.

His head ducks down towards your neck just as his hands lose the war, grabbing onto your hips, dragging you dangerously close to him until his lips hovered just over your pulse point. And by some strength that you certainly don’t possess, he stops there. Letting his lips barely brush against your soft skin, breath coming out in pants for you to feel, to relish, to get lost in. And just as soon as those pants, those waves, become a comfortable pattern to succumb to, you feel them.

His fangs.

Grazing over your sensitive skin. Sharp tips nipping at a surface they could so easily break, pierce with one wrong move. Your pulse is thrumming beneath the surface, heart racing painfully as Eddie’s grip turns bruising.

Come to me.

“Please.”

You’re the one begging now. It goes against every rule you’ve ever seen applied in fiction. If a vampire is baring their fangs against your neck, you should be reaching for a stake. The only noise escaping you should be a scream for help, not the pathetic whimpers beginning to slip out.

“I can’t,” you feel his gasp more than you can hear it. Your blood is too loud, roaring in your ears as you feel the fangs slip with his words, “I can’t.”

That hunger you felt, the one that had called out to you through the night and led you right to his doorstep, is unavoidable now. You need him closer, you need him to do this. For the first time since you had saved his life and tasted his blood after the Upside Down, everything seems to click into place. All he needs to do is let them sink into you, take that final leap of faith and reprieve that ache you’ve battled for weeks now.

You’re so close. So close.

“Eddie, please,” you’re nearly sobbing, hands gripping onto his shoulders, trying to pull him in closer.

But you’re no match for his strength. You don’t know if it’s a new addition with his vampire business or if there was always more to him than met the eye, but he easily stays stoic against your attempts, not moving a centimeter. Still hovering, still just barely making contact with your heartbeat.

“I-” his head drops slightly, tip of his nose beginning to trail down the side of your neck, mouth no longer dangerously close, “You saw my dreams-”

“I trust you.”

You do. You trust him even more now than you had when you first stumbled upon him in the boathouse. More than when he had pleaded his case, promised he hadn’t been the one to kill Chrissy Cunningham. The trust comes easier than breathing as his nose nuzzles into the junction of your neck and shoulder.

“You shouldn’t,” he mutters, fangs now brushing your collar bone, “You really, really shouldn’t.”

He doesn’t stop you when you move to straddle his hips. Your weight settles onto his lap, and he only fights to keep his face burrowed there in your shoulder, arms now moving around your waist to hold you tightly to him.

His self-control is impeccable. You’d admire him and all this impressiveness another time, when something inside of you wasn’t lamenting his resistance.

All at once, it occurs to you how to give him the final push.

“Did I ever tell you how sweet your blood was on my tongue after I brought you back?” you start, sighing, rolling your shoulders to expose more of your neck, grip on his shoulders tightening, “All that blood, all those tears, and I still can’t forget how welcome that warmth of you was in my mouth. How I needed more. How I pictured it every night, after every nightmare-”

He breaks.

One moment, his nose is buried in your skin. And the next, his fangs are.

You weren’t sure what to expect, but relief would have been low on your list. You gasp out in initial shock, but as you feel his teeth dig in, it’s as though something has snapped. The ache has been satiated, preening as you feel the warmth of your blood contrast the chill of his chin pressing into you.

If there’s any pain, you don’t feel it through the haze of pleasure.

Ice shards spread through your bloodstream, but the point in which Eddie’s mouth is connected to you radiates heat. He’s pulling you into him, letting go completely and relinquishing all that control as he nearly purrs against your skin in satisfaction. That connection is back, two minds linking with a heavy click, and you can feel all his pleasure mingling with your own. Satiation, desperation, adoration – the plethora of emotions all swarm your head and block out any better judgment.

You’d let him drain you dry, if that’s what he needed. If nothing more than to hear those soft moans as his fangs sink even deeper.

He pulls back too soon, though, suddenly and unexpectedly. Just as quickly as he had given in to both your desires, he’s putting an end to them. He hadn’t taken much blood, but your head is swimming from the loss all the same. Your grip has gone slack on him, hands slipping down to just barely cradle his biceps while his own touch stays unyielding around you.

You can hear his thoughts. Or rather, maybe more aptly put, you can feel them.

He wants to devour you. Wholly, ruthlessly.

He looks up at you with pupils still blown wide, chest heaving and a small scarlet drip trailing from the corner of his mouth. For the first time since he’d come back to you, he looks alive. Hair fluffed in a halo around his head, skin tinted with a healthy glow and unmistakable blush, bags beneath his eyes faded for the time being.

You were never quite sure if Eddie Munson’s heart had ever restarted, knew for certain that it hadn’t now, but you swear you can feel its pulse finally thrumming for you.

I need more.

It’s his voice in your head, echoing in the empty space as you look down with wild eyes to match his.

But it’s your voice in his head when you respond instantaneously.

Then take it.

Something unspoken lies there in the need. He doesn’t move back to your neck, doesn’t bite down and drink his fill of your blood. He only stares for a few seconds, watching the welt of blood that pools from each puncture wound of his making. His eyes follow when it runs down your skin, as though he might lose it should he so much as blink. Down, down, down. Following the trail that his nose had followed minutes before, across your collarbone until it stains the neck of your loose shirt.

My pleasure.

His hold proves helpful when he quickly changes positions, roughly throwing you down onto the couch before he’s settled between your thighs, crawling his way up your body. He pays close attention to the maroon trail on your throat, his tongue cleaning up after his mess, savoring the taste of you on his tongue.

Sweet as honey.

His tongue only pauses for a moment over the bite wound, pressing into it, making your back arch as you press yourself fully into him. Your head digs painfully into the cushion behind you as you expose your neck, wanting and begging and pleading all without words.

“I think we should take this off,” he plucks at the hem of your shirt, tugging hard before he begins to carefully lift. His freezing knuckles brush against your burning skin, eliciting a whimper from you, “Before we make an ever bigger mess. Don’t you agree, sweetheart?”

A sultry tone you’ve never heard from him before. Honeyed words, familiar to how he once spoke, but entirely new in the way they curl around you. There’s a confidence there, a baiting that he’s luring you with.

“Yes, please.”

He could ask anything of you in this moment, and you’d be eager to comply. Fueled by your desire for him before the events of spring break, worsened by his new condition. A bright, red, vibrating thread. You couldn’t severe the tie if you wanted to.

And you most certainly did not want to.

Your shirt is removed, his hands careful despite the way they shake. His words may be smooth, but each move is jagged, the only sign you had that he’s still exercising control.

“And these?” he whispers, lowering his lips to your sternum as he toys with the band of your pants. His fangs scratch down the center of your stomach as it quivers with each breath, careful to not break skin as they make their presence known. You nearly lose all capability to speak until he says, “Use your words, baby. Tell me I can take them off.”

Yes.

His eyes flare, looking up to you, “Use your words. Not your mind. I want to hear how badly you need me – I want everyone to hear you beg.”

The words strike straight to your core. Lashing out in your lower stomach, burning deliciously.

It’s more than putting on a show. He needs to know you want this.

“Take them off,” you gasp out, hands wandering to tangle in his hair, “Take- Take it all off. I’m yours, Eddie.”

Shaking hands perform a dance you had long since fantasized about. In easier days, when Eddie had been uninvolved in the episode down, heart still beating along as he would bounce his knees in front of you and his fingers would idly fiddle with his pencils and pens. A yearning, a wanting, you’d always held for the boy.

He used to be an escape from it all. A pretty thing to daydream about when you weren’t worried about monsters. And now – he was one of the monsters.

Your monster. Tied to you inexplicably, brought back by your hands and your stubborn efforts.

His lips and fangs are one in the same, trailing along your body as he finds a home at the apex between your thighs. Even in undeath, he’s the most beautiful thing your mind could conjure.

You’d forgotten how he was privy to your every thought until he reacts.

“You’re too sweet,” he murmurs, smirking salaciously as he mouths innocently at that sensitive skin of your inner thigh, tongue darting out to lick a cool stride before he breathes out against it. It has you writhing beneath his hold, “You’ve wanted this all this time, sweetheart? Wanted to see me, between these pretty thighs, making you scream my name?” His mouth falls open a bit wider, the sharp canines pressing but not sinking against where he had just licked. He holds there, eyes locking with yours, until he pulls back to cockily say, “Could’ve just said something, y’know. Didn’t have to bring me back from the dead to have me devoted to you.”

Finally, finally, he lets his fangs sink back into you. The soft meat of your thigh is more pliant in his mouth, and he doesn’t linger as long as he had on your neck. One nick, just enough to start the blood flow, before he’s pulling back and licking hungrily at the scarlet liquid. Less for feeding, more for marking.

Marking you as his, just as you have with him. His methods just appeared a bit more physical.

He’s quick to avert his focus on your cunt, no warning before the tongue still covered in your blood is taking long strides over your entrance and clit. Devotion. That was the only word to describe the way he was unraveling you, alternating between indulging in your sweet cunt and returning back to that bite, going as far to even sink his teeth in a second time to take a proper drink of you. His chin and lips grow slick with it all – with the blood, with your wetness, with his own saliva. A starved man with a feast before him.

The way he’s rutting his hips into the couch as he slings your legs over his shoulders doesn’t go unnoticed.

It’s a mess. A wonderful, satisfying, enchanting mess.

Beautiful. So beautiful, all mine.

His voice has you teetering on an edge of new carnal pleasure. Completely consumed by him, your hands tugging viciously at his curls. His face is round once more, eyes and cheeks no longer sunken in, vitality being breathed into him with each taste of your blood.

Let me touch you. Please.

You beg over that connection, trying your best to not buck your hips mercilessly against his tongue. You feel his wicked grin.

“You’re already touching me, sweetheart,” he reaches up, untangling your fingers from his hair for emphasis before he’s pinning them to your sides, “And what did I say about using our words? Hm?”

“Need more,” your voice is wrecked as you tilt your head back, wrists straining against his hold, “I need more.”

You’re fully light-headed now, the blood loss finally catching up. Maybe you were about to let him drain you dry.

And what a beautiful way to die. At the hand, at the fangs, of the one you had fought so urgently to bring back to you.

One last timid lick to the wound on your thigh, and he’s crawling his way back up to you. The mess doesn't phase you as he kisses you hungrily – the blood remains sweet rather than metallic, the remnants of your juices still on his tongue – and you meet him with an unbridled fervent. Nipping at his lips with your own dull canines as if you were the one looking for a bite of vivacity.

You don’t know when he lets go of your wrists, or when your hands find their way up beneath his shirt. The specifics don’t matter once he’s naked before you, clothes discarded messily to the ground with your own. The only thing that matters is the weight of him, the reminder that he was still here as his hips roll into yours and the head of him catches on your entrance.

He had been dead. For minutes. And you had brought him back to you.

The process had taken longer than the mere CPR administered, had taken weeks of whatever waiting game you two had tortured yourselves with, but you had him now. He was yours. You were his. There wasn’t a deity, a monster, an omniscient being in this world that could take that away from you. Not even Death herself.

“Last chance, baby,” he whispers against your lips, holding himself up so that not a single inch of his skin pressed to yours. You nearly cried out, missing that connection, missing him. Your hunger, the hunger for him entirely, rattles your bones once more, “Say the word, and I’ll-”

“No,” your hands pause their exploration of skin jagged with scars. Reminders of those few dreadful moments in which the world existed without Eddie Munson in it, that would fade in time but never fully disappear. Always there, just like the stain of his blood on your palms. Always there, just like your desperation to have him at your side. “I meant it when I said I’m yours. I’m not changing my mind. I want this.”

His skin is back on yours, body laid fully along your own road map, and it all comes flooding back. The pain of seeing his lifeless body, the nights spent in an eerie hospital room, baring your own teeth at any one who came too close to the man you had pulled back from the ledge of Death. The anxiety, the fear, the relief, the yearning – it all accumulates as he’s pressing into you, brimming you so full that there’s no room for memories of nightmares.

He’s here. He’s yours. You’re his.

His heart didn’t need to beat for you to accept that truth.

You can’t decipher which chants of your name fall from his lips for others to hear, and which ones whisper in the depths of your mind for only you to bear witness to. Each curse, each grunt, each moan – there for you and only you anyways. You’re entirely unsure if your lips even separate once as he thrusts, cock brushing somewhere deep in you that has you clenching around him.

And if his fangs wander, it only adds to the pleasure.

Blood, sweat, and tears all mingle between your bodies. He’s holding you tighter than water, as though you’re at risk of disappearing from him at any given moment. But that link between your two minds, your two souls, is unwavering. It’s the only thing grounding you to the moment as your half curls around his waist and your heel digs into his lower back. Urging him, pressing him, taking him.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he says it out loud, this time. You feel his lips brushing against your ear as he does, “Gripping me so tightly. This pussy was fucking made for me.”

Every movement only unlocks something more feral inside the two of you. Your nails rake down his back, leaving angry red lines to trace over once it’s all said and done. There’s enough shallow bite marks across your neck that you’ll be wearing scarves for weeks, months. The others might question it, strangers might stare, but the pride you feel as he marks you is unmatched for any anxiety about it.

That black hole of hunger is no longer swallowing either of you whole. That debilitating pain, that animal inside, has been tamed.

When his hips begin to stutter, mouth no longer capable of the strength to properly bite you as his lips only smear the soft spattering of blood pooling at the base of your throat, you’re already there. Squeezing him tightly, sucking him in, voice raw as you let everyone know who’s ravishing you.

Eddie.

Hawkins’ newest zombie boy – Hawkins’ newest vampire.

The climax is just as pleasurable as the lead up. The haze lingers long after his spent has dripped out of you, long after he’s collapsed into your body with exhaustion and contentment. The blood dries, the wounds clot – but that haze doesn’t falter.

As long as his skin presses to yours, you feel that caress of his mind against yours.

“Did…” you’re breathless as his face nuzzles into your nude chest, a few mindless hums of gratification still slipping from him as you bring a hand to toy with the curls at the crown of his head, “Did any of your vampire books say anything about… that?”

The connection. The bloodlust. The spell you swear he still has you under, even as it’s all said and done.

He snorts against your skin, “Not that I, uh, recall.”

“What? You mean to tell me in all your research, you never dived into any vampire smut?” you tsk jokingly, a calm smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. He lifts his head, and you swear, those honey-brown irises have threads of a deep maroon now, “You’re slacking, Munson.”

“Why read about it when I can just experience it?” he coos, letting his nose and lips drag across your still hot skin before he rests his chin on your sternum, “Besides, I mean – we’ll need to do this again, won’t we, baby? For research.”

Your head still spins. Your body aches in a welcome manner. There will be a need for explanations to others, for actually researching his condition, later on. But for now, it’s enough.

The pounding behind your ribcage, the one you know Eddie feels for the both of you when his ear presses to your chest, is enough.

Of course, lover.

That thought stays between the two of you. The world doesn’t need to know what can’t hurt them.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

join my taglist!

#ghost's stories #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #kas!eddie munson #kas!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #reader essentially became soul bound to him womp womp #don't drink a vampire's blood kids #i really didn't edit that intensely i spent two hours fucking with photoshop #if it's bad it's bad #finally dipping my toes into kas!eddie tho wahoo #vampire!eddie munson #someone requested eddie with this song forever ago but i lost the ask #eddie reading dracula to figure out if he's become a vampire is actually so fucking funny to me

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l13 · 11 months

Text

part two here

cw: NSFW 18+ MINORS DNI!!!! f!reader, peter is married and having thoughts of reader soo cheating? voyeurism, masturbation, peter getting off to you and miguel fucking:), not proofread

perv!peter b parker who comes in Miguel's control room (or whatever the fuck) ready to annoy the fuck out of him, when he’s suddenly very glad he didn’t bring his daughter with him as the obscene sounds from up above reach his ears.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl for me, mi vida. Look at you, dripping down my cock. Couldn’t even wait till I was finished hm?” if that wasn’t proof enough for what you guys were doing, then the sloppy sound of Miguel fucking his cock in your pussy gave it all away.

Peter felt as if someone threw cold water down his back, and he searches his brain for answers- something to justify the outline of his now hard cock in his pants. You were attractive, he wasn’t blind, but weirdly enough he’d never thought about you that way.

Until now, that is. Now, that he can hear your pretty moans and whimpers of Miguel’s name as you beg him to go faster, to fuck you deeper, to make you come.

Peter’s thankful that the floating platform is all the way up, and that he has no view of you, or else he’d never be able to get the picture of your body, of your face scrunched up in pleasure, out of his mind. It would ruin him.

In fact, Peter could see nothing except Miguel’s wide back, shoulders hunched over, no doubt holding your thighs up for easier access. Fuck, Peter could feel precum dripping down the tip of his cock, at the vile picture forming in his head.

He was so hard that it hurt, and he could feel the stinging of his eyes, tears gathering up fast. He wanted to touch himself so bad, but he couldn't. He shouldn’t.

“Hah- shit. What if someone came in here, bebita? hear you like this? See you like this? You'd like that, wouldn’t you? Ffuck you tightened up so much when I said that. Such a little slut for me. Say it.”

Peter turns around, ready to walk out the door. He shouldn’t be here, he wasn’t allowed to be here during this. He should go home. MJ was waiting for him to- Fuck, MJ. He has a wife. What the fuck was he doing? He-

“Yes! yes fuck, i want everyone to know that im a good slut for you!Ah-want them to see me like this pleasepleaseplease”

Peter clamps a hand over his mouth, and moans, letting himself fall against the wall, elbow propped up against the surface to keep him upright, and he bites his lip roughly, keeping his mouth shut just so that he could palm himself through his sweatpants.

God, fuck, he wanted to see you so badly. He wanted to be the one fucking you, to be the one pulling those sounds from you. Hell, he’d let you pull those sounds from him. he’d do anything - using you or being used by you. Peter couldn't decide which thought excited him more.

His last remaining morals were thrown out the window when you cried out, and he could hear you thrash around, Miguel muttering praises and encouraging words that fall deaf on peter’s ears. By that point, Peter had completely tuned out any sound Miguel made, choosing to focus on your pleas and cries.

Peter was full on jerking his cock now, sweatpants bunched up at his ankles, as he fucks the lame excuse of a hole his hand made, all the while imagining that it’s you. He was timing his thrusts to the sound of your broken moans, having to bite on his forearm to keep quiet as he whimpers and grunts, drool running down his chin.

Unbeknownst to Peter, the platform, slowly but surely, makes its way down to the floor. After all, even if Peter made sure he was being quiet, that was still loud as fuck to Miguel's ears, who had heard him the minute he stepped in the room.

2023 © l13 | Do not steal, copy, edit, translate or re-post any of my works.

#•ूᡣ𐭩 — peter b #•ूᡣ𐭩 — miguel #miguel o'hara x reader #peter b parker x reader #peter b parker x reader smut #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara x reader

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archangeldyke-all · 2 months

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amab ceo sevika getting possessive and jealous when someone in her company has a crush on reader? 👀

hehehehe, i'm gonna combine this with another request:

Amab/ceo Sev cumming in her pants while she give head to her gf?

men and minors dni

your phone buzzes in your back pocket-- you quickly look away from your coworker's screen to check it.

get away from them. her text reads. you roll your eyes at your possessive girlfriend and turn your attention back to raphael's screen.

they're a new hire, still figuring out the ropes at the office, and their computer has been giving them trouble. for the past week, you've had to help them reboot their computer about three times a day.

tonight, it's just you, raphael, and sevika staying late to finish up their training.

they're sweet-- a good hire who's already showing promise. they apologize profusely each time they track you down for help or with a question, and they're always making you laugh as the two of you wait for their computer to re-start.

sevika's convinced they're in love with you.

you don't think it's love... just a little crush. raphael hasn't yet learned that you and sevika are a couple, you're sure once they realize they'll back off.

but you're kinda enjoying the attention, because sevika's been jealous.

and she's so much easier to tease when she's jealous.

you quickly glance over your shoulder toward her office, where you can see her peeking out of the slats of the blinds on her glass walls, glaring at you where you stand by raphael's computer.

her eyes catch on yours and soften, and you roll your eyes lovingly at her. she looks away, the blinds falling back in place, and two seconds later, you get another text.

don't roll your eyes at me. wtf.

you quickly type back a response. you're cute when you're jealous.

raphael clears their throat. "any plans this weekend?" they ask. you bite back your smile, knowing sevika's watching from her office as you shrug.

"probably just laze around the house. you?"

"me and a few friends are gonna go to a music festival."

"oooh, fun!" you exclaim.

"you're welcome to join us if you'd li--"

"i need you in my office." a voice growls out from behind you, sevika's hand wrapping around your bicep and her chest pressing against your back.

raphael jumps in their seat, and you bite your lip to keep from grinning.

"you need something, boss?" you ask, purposefully avoiding calling her the more familiar 'sev' or 'babe' she's insisted you call her at all times now that you guys are together.

sevika's eyes dart from raphael to glare at you. you smile sweetly at her.

"excuse us." sevika grunts, before turning on her heel and dragging you into her office. you giggle quietly the entire way.

when the door shuts behind her, the blinds shaking as the glass doors vibrate with the slam, she shoves you against it, blinds crushing against your back as she swoops in and presses her mouth against yours. you moan happily against her.

sevika pulls away to start biting at your neck, sucking a line of hickeys down your throat that will be impossible to hide beneath your collar. you gasp. "oh, fuck, you're so needy when you're jealous."

sevika sinks her teeth into your shoulder and you squeak, smacking her shoulder until she lets your flesh go.

"ow!" you whine. she licks at the indents her teeth left behind as her hands start to strip you of your shirt and bra.

"i'm gonna make you scream my fuckin' name." she growls. your knees go weak and you gasp, your hands shooting out to grab her shoulders. she chuckles darkly. "you're mine."

you whimper and wobble again, and sevika laughs. "f-fuck, sev."

"c'mon." she says, pulling you toward her desk.

you watch her reach out to swipe all her papers and desk decorations onto the floor and you gasp. "don't you dare!"

sevika freezes and looks at you. "why not? it's hot!"

"i'm the one who's gonna have to clean it though!" you laugh as you start pulling your pants off.

sevika pouts, then rolls her eyes, huffing as she carefully stacks her papers up and gently slides her items and pen-cups to the side of the desks. you smile as you watch your girlfriend carefully swipe the desk free of any crumbs-- making sure your seat is comfortable for you.

when she turns back around, she waves at the desk. "there, is that good enough, princess?" she asks. you grin, grabbing her shoulder and pulling her in for a sweet kiss.

"thank you, love." you whisper. sevika sighs, bumping her forehead against yours, her hands fiddling with the waistband of your underwear as she bites her lip, lost in thought.

"...can i please just fire them?" she whispers eventually. you burst into laughter, and sevika's pout melts into a smile as she watches you try to catch your breath.

"baby... you'd just have to go through more interviews if you did. you hate interviews. raphael's good at their job-- i think you'd like 'em if you gave 'em a chance." you duck forward to kiss her lips, then continue. "and you know i'm yours-- right?" you ask. sevika sighs.

"...yeah." she mumbles. you smile, kissing her again. "'m still gonna make sure they know you're mine." she growls, digging her nails into your hips. you grin.

"yeah?"

sevika doesn't answer, instead, she picks you up and throws you onto the desk. you gasp, and sevika tears your legs apart, shoving her body between them while she descends onto your body, nipping and kissing the flesh of your tits and rips and stomach.

"oh, fuck." you whimper. sevika hums, grinding her hips against your cunt.

"your panties are soaked." sevika teases. you whimper, one of your hands flying up to cover your lips. sevika scoffs, reaches up with one hand and grabs your wrist, pinning it by your hips.

with her free hand, she tears your underwear off, throwing them across the room. you suddenly realize the office door is unlocked, and you gasp-- but before you can worry about it, sevika's sinking two fingers inside you to the hilt.

you squeal at the sudden stretch-- then you freeze, eyes widening as you realize how loud you'd just been. sevika grins down at you, then starts pumping her fingers in and out of your cunt, rubbing against your g-spot on each thrust. you let out a half-moan-- covering the tail end of it by smacking your free hand over your mouth again. sevika growls from where she towers above you, sneering at you as your cunt starts to fill the room with squelching sounds.

"move your fucking hand." she growls. you just whimper a muffled sound into your palm. sevika glares at you, then pulls her fingers out of your cunt, a wet pop! punctuating the rough way she withdrew. you whine against your hand-- only for it too to be grabbed by her free hand and pinned by your ass where it sits on the table.

you're about to tease her about being out of hands to fuck you with when she drops to her knees in between your spread legs, her fingers still pinning your wrists to her desk, her eyes sparkling as she licks her lips. you whimper instead.

"s-sev-- we're gonna get in trouble!" you scold, struggling against her hold on your hands. she just chuckles.

"i'm the boss."

"the door's still unlocked!"

"hm, good thing i'm still dressed." she teases as she starts nipping your thighs. despite your protests, your legs spread subconsciously at the feeling of sevika's mouth.

"sev--"

"do you want me to stop?" she asks, a breath away from your cunt. you lick your lips, your eyes darting from your girlfriend, to the door, to the blinds covering the glass-wall, and back to sevika again.

"no." you admit. sevika grins.

"then just be quiet, and there won't be a problem." she says, shrugging. with that, she leans forward and licks a long stripe up your cunt.

you groan, struggling against her hands on your wrists to try to cover your mouth again. sevika just chuckles-- the vibrations only make you moan louder.

she's pulling out all the stops to get you to be loud-- nipping your clit with her front teeth, spitting on your cunt, fucking you with her tongue as her nose grinds into your clit-- and you draw blood from biting your lip to keep quiet.

you're pathetic, whimpering and whining and squirming on sevika's desk as she devours you, her eyes closed in pleasure, little moans escaping her throat as she eats.

"oh fuck, sevika." you rush out in a faux-whisper. she hums against your clit and your thighs shake. "oh my god, you're so good baby." you groan. sevika's grip on your wrists goes week as she whimpers, and you use her temporary distraction to pull your hands free, sinking them both in her hair. sevika's hands scramble to hold your hips.

you start grinding your hips in small circles against her face, holding her against your cunt just like you need her, relishing in the sweet, wide-eyed way she blinks up at you while you fuck her face.

"god you're so good, baby." you whisper. she growls against you. "perfect-- so pretty on your knees for me, so good with that tongue, oh, fuck!" you cry.

sevika starts mindlessly humming against you, moaning and grunting as she tries to bury her face further against you.

"there, there, oh, sevika, just like that, baby, there!" you cry, suddenly cumming against her face. you gasp, your gaze locked on sevika's fucked out glazed over eyes and shiny cheeks and nose-- coated in your arousal. she's so pretty, so sweet and jealous and perfect, and you're high off sex and cumming, so you decide to do something special for her.

"sevikaaaa!" you scream as you reach your peak, the sound echoing through the small office and most certainly reaching raphael at their cubicle.

sevika's eyes go wide, her rhythm faltering as she gasps and shivers between your legs, resting her forehead against your thigh as she tries to catch her breath.

she's so fucking cute. you let go of your grip on her hair, gently petting and tucking her fly-aways behind her ears. "you okay?" you ask, giggling. sevika shudders against you, then peeks up from where she was hiding her face on your thigh.

"you made me cum in my fucking pants." she grunts. you gasp, grinning as you shakily push at your girlfriend and wobbly jump to your feet to see for yourself. sevika groans at your glee, and you ignore her, gawking at the wet patch of fabric against her crotch, her cum staining the lovely lilac dress-pants she's wearing.

you giggle. sevika huffs and rolls her eyes. "that's so hot." you say as you start helping her stand. sevika buries her face against your shoulder in embarrassment, and you laugh as you stroke up and down her back, soothing her.

"you're hot. and a bit of a slut." she says. you laugh.

"you're the one who had to have me the second she saw me talking to my co-worker!"

sevika grins. "well, at least raphael knows you're mine now." she says. you cringe as you think about the new-hire waiting outside of sevika's office for you.

"we're gonna get sued." you groan. sevika snorts.

"we're gonna get a thank you card and an invite to a swingers party in the mail." she says. you giggle.

when you finally dress and leave sevika's office, you're relieved to see raphael's desk is empty-- apparently they decided to flee.

on monday, raphael avoids looking at you, blushing each time they accidentally catch your eye.

it's awkward for a few weeks-- but sevika bumps their pay as an apology, and eventually, they manage to look you in the eye again.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #sevika smut

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crimsonbubble · 1 year

Text

cw. nsfw, afab!reader, sex pollen, overstimulation, fingering, creampies, breeding kink, use of the nickname kid *not proofread, just pure horny

[@lillianastuff is to blame here 🫣🫣 also the scene seems out of place but its my only idea that makes sense]

reblogs and comments are appreciated <33

MINORS DNI!!

navigating through an old and abandoned lab in search of an antidote for what you thought was just a fever was easier said than done. you leaned against the desk, barely being able to focus on the files infront of you as the heat building within you seemed to spread and grow hotter.

keegan rushed into the office you were in, his state not too far off from yours. he grabbed you and not so smoothly set you down on a nearby chair. you simply watched him rummage through anything he can find. he stood up straight and read over a report, cursing and throwing the paper on the desk again.

you admired his height, eyes trailing over his figure before landing on his hips. his hips were level with the desk, and the way he leaned forward on the desk did nothing to get rid of the idea of you sitting on the desk in front of him. it seems you've been quiet for too long as keegan shifts his focus to you and how your thighs clench together.

"need some help, kid?" his voice was shaky, trying not to give away how heated he was getting the longer you stare at him. the lab is far enough from everything that no one will hear anything, and the mission was close enough to be done, so a few extra minutes to take care of you doesn't seem so bad right?

he's had an eye on you since you joined the team. but how can he resist you when you're looking at him with glossy pleading eyes? there's a soft pout on your lips as you try to keep yourself together in front of your superior. you stand on shaky legs, trying to compose yourself as you walk over to him. keegan turns, pulling you into him to keep you up as your legs nearly give in. "keegan..." all self-control snaps when his name slips from your lips, all breathy and needy.

before your hazy mind can come to terms with what's about to happen, keegan has you pressed against the desk. his gloved hands are fumbling with your belt, hastily shoving them down your thighs. your breathing is labored, as keegan pulls his gloves off with his teeth. he tugged your soaked panties to the side, groaning as he trailed his fingers over your clit. "fuck, you're so messy."

keegan slips his fingers in with minimal force, your slick making the glide even easier. his fingers curl into you so sweetly, making you shiver and shake against his body. your left hand is against the desk while your right travels to his hip. you're fiddling with his belt, mind going numb as he fingers you open so easily. he quickly tugs at his belt with his free hand, his eyes fluttering when you wrap your hand around him.

the pleasure is blinding, your body barely being able to register your orgasm until his thumb grazing over your clit made you jolt heavily. keegan winces as he pulls your hand off of him. he turns you around and pushes your chest to the desk. keegan wastes no time in holding your hands against your back before he grinded his cock through your sopping folds. curses fell from his lips with each shallow thrust.

as he pulls back, he lines himself up your pulsing hole. there's a slight burn when he pushes in, a breathy whimper leaving your lips as he buries himself deep in your cunt. your body trembles as keegan holds you, drilling into you as deep as your bodies will allow. your pushing back against him as he thrusts, feeling your body heat up as you hear the slick noises of your cunt more prominent with each thrust.

"there we go, just like that. fucks sake kid, loosen up." keegan seems just as pleasure drunk as you are, mumbling nonsense as he brings you to your release. there's a ringing in your ears as you climax, dropping your head to rest on the cool hardwood of the desk. keegan can't stop himself from stuffing you full with the way your cunt tightens and pulses around his dick enough to have his hands grabbing at your hips to keep you against him as he spills inside you.

there's a pleasant hum in your ears as keegan pulls out, watching as his cum leaks out of you. keegan fingers it back in before pulling your pants and underwear back up. it's an uncomfortable stickiness but the way he pats your ass as he fixes himself made you laugh breathlessly.

"we'll continue this back at base, got that? now c'mon before we get into anymore trouble."

#bubbly writes <3 #keegan russ smut #keegan smut #keegan russ #keegan x reader #keegan russ x reader #cod mw22 #cod mwii #cod x reader #cod smut #cod x reader smut #cod keegan

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heavenlyhischier · 7 months

Text

𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐌𝐞 | 𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐨 𝐇𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐫

word count: 2.8k

summary: nico’s your best friend and roommate, but what happens when he comes home after a guy leaves you unsatisfied?

warnings: MINORS DNI 18+ CONTENT, hair pulling, unprotected sex (pls guys use protection), choking, oral (fem receiving), fingering

note: thank u maddy for being the best and reassuring me that this wasnt total garbage i love u ◡̈

Living with Nico was relatively easy. He never made too much noise when he knew you were sleeping, he would make enough dinner for the both of you, and he was clean for a guy. He was caring in the sense that he knew you liked rocky road ice cream, so he always kept it in the freezer despite thinking it was an abomination. However, living with him was also hard because he was undeniably hot.

When you had agreed to move in with him after struggling to find an apartment when your previous lease was over, you didn’t take into account how often you would see him shirtless. Or the amount of times you would see him freshly woken up, messy hair in his sleepy eyes as he sulked into the kitchen. Or the way your heart would swell and your stomach would twist in knots if you let your eyes linger on him for too long.

You, unfortunately, were not naive enough to be blind to what that meant for you, but you were smart enough to keep it to yourself. Nico was your friend and roommate, and having feelings for him was a textbook recipe for disaster. Nothing like that ever ended well, and ruining your friendship with the hockey player was the last thing you wanted.

“I’m going to the gym, but I’ll be back by eleven,” Nico called behind his shoulder as he opened the fridge.

“Okay,” You drawled, doing your best to not stare at the way his back muscles rippled underneath his compression shirt.

“Just saying, in case you wanted to come with,” He teased, turning around to give you a mischievous grin.

He watched as you rolled your eyes, a playful smile gracing your soft features as you left your half-eaten breakfast discarded in front of you. Your hair was still messy from just waking up and your cheeks slightly flushed from what he presumes to be the heat of their apartment. Nico let his mind be clouded by thoughts of how beautiful you looked, but it was when they turned into thoughts of how you’d look underneath him that he pushed them away.

“After the shit you made me do last time, never again,” You groaned as you remembered the awful workout he put you through last time you went with him, “I was bedridden for days, Nico. Days!”

“You’re dramatic,” He laughed, his eyes twinkling as they met your own, “But no, I won’t make you do that again. It will be easier. Maybe.”

“I can’t today anyways. I have um- I have someone coming over,” You meekly admitted, avoiding eye contact with him.

You could feel the air shift around you as your words registered with Nico, and you wanted nothing more than to sink further into your seat. Nico’s silence was unnerving and the thick tension that enveloped you was unlike anything you’d felt with him before. It felt as if the waiting was blindly wrapping its hands around your neck, slowly suffocating you until he opened his mouth.

“Have fun,” He finally responded, his voice clipped and flat, “I’ll see you later.”

Your eyes snapped up and watched as he left the apartment, the door aggressively shutting behind him. You slowly blinked in confusion as you tried to piece together what just happened. He seemed angry that you were having someone over, but you’re not able to understand why. You knew Nico was typically gone during this time, so you planned the meeting accordingly. You weren’t interfering with his time at all, and that left you even more confused, but you didn’t have time to think about it before that someone would be here.

“I had fun,” Noah spoke as he slipped his clothes back on, “Maybe we can do it again sometime.”

Not likely, you thought as you tossed him your best fake smile, just wanting to get him out of the apartment. You grabbed the first shirt you could find and slipped it over your head so you could walk him out of your apartment. Passing by your mirror, you nearly tripped over your own feet when you realized that the shirt you had on was Nico’s. It had the devils logo slapped on the front with his number decorating the sleeves, and memories of how you got the shirt began to flood your mind. Shaking your head to rid the thoughts of your roommate, you followed after Noah.

However, as soon as you stepped out into the hallway it was as if time had frozen. Nico was standing at the kitchen island with his back turned towards the two of you, but you knew he’d heard you. His back was straight, the muscles pulled tight as he pretended to focus on whatever was in front of him. While it didn’t seem to phase your hookup, it had you feeling like you couldn’t breathe. You prayed that Noah would keep his mouth shut and not say anything ridiculous to you before he left, but what he did was much worse.

“Hey man,” Noah greeted Nico who had turned his head when he heard someone behind him.

“I’ll let you out.”

God, you wanted the floor to swallow you whole as you watched them interact. It was awkward, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly embarrassed at the thought that Nico had heard you fake your orgasm only minutes ago. Nico was short and dismissive to the smaller man in front of him as he walked him to the door, and you avoided Noah’s stare as he waited to see if you were going to bid him a goodbye. He scoffed when you stayed planted in your spot.

“Did he make you feel good,” Nico baited as soon as the door was shut behind him, his dark eyes boring into your own.

“Wh-What,” You stuttered, shocked that he would ask you any sort of question like that.

“I said,” Nico began, taking a few steps towards you so that your chests were nearly touching, “Did he make you feel good?”

You swallowed thickly, heart slamming into your rib cage as your head became clouded with thoughts of the man in front of you. He was drenched in sweat from the gym, his shirt sticking to his skin and displaying each dip and curve of the muscle underneath it. His hair looked as if he had been relentlessly running his fingers through it, and all you could think about was the way it would look stuck to his forehead as he buried himself deep inside of you.

“No,” You breathed out, “No, he didn’t.”

“Then let me.”

Nico drags his fingers up your arm, goosebumps rising in a trail behind them. Your pupils are blown wide as you stare up at him, the ability to think, the ability to breathe long forgotten as he looked at you like he wanted to devour you. Your mouth grew dry as you tried to force yourself to speak, but Nico’s touch rendered you speechless until his palm was ghosting over the expanse of your neck.

“Nico, I- We can’t,” You rush out, but you make no point to move away from him as he takes your chin in between his thumb and finger.

“Why not, schätzi,” He tilts his head to the side, his thumb dragging across your bottom lip, “I hear you moaning my name when you think i’m asleep.”

If you thought your heart was racing before, it was certainly about to beat out of your chest now. Embarrassment crawled up your neck at the thought of being caught in the act by the person you had been fantasizing about, but another part of you, the twisted part of you, had hoped he did.

“We’re friends. Roommates,” You haphazardly explained, “This could ruin everything.”

“It doesn’t have to ruin anything,” He tried, his voice low as his eyes darted to your lips, “But I heard you earlier. I know that’s not what you sound like. I know you faked it, so let me help you.”

Fuck it. You close the small gap between the two of you, crashing your lips on his own in a searing kiss. Nico’s hand drops from your chin, snaking around to the back of your neck to tangle in your hair as he pulls you into his chest. You’re grasping at his biceps, trying to keep yourself steady as he deepens the kiss and slides his tongue into your mouth. A broken moan slips through your mouth when Nico tugs on your hair, and he’s pulling away with a smirk on his face.

“You like that,” He teased with red, swollen lips and hooded eyes, the grip on your hair slightly tightening, “You let him pull your hair too?”

The way his voice deepened and his eyes hardened at the mention of Noah had the wetness in between your legs growing. Every nerve in your body was aching for him to touch you, to get you to the release your body so desperately craved. You stared up at Nico, words suddenly fleeting from your mind as he carefully backed you up against the kitchen table. With one hand still tangled in your hair, he gripped the back of your thighs and lifted you into the table.

“Did you let him touch you,” He taunted as he ran a finger up the inside of your thigh, sending shivers through your body.

“No, we jus- We just had sex,” You admitted sheepishly, eyes dropping to his chest.

With his grip still on your hair, he yanked your head back up so your eyes were on his face as he spoke, “Good.”

He quickly dropped to his knees, placing both hands on your thighs and spreading them so he could slot himself in between you. Eyes wide and full of anticipation, you watched as he began to pepper soft, gentle kisses along the sensitive skin. You throw your head back in bliss when his breath hits your center, and your breathing becomes shaky and desperate.

“You know,” His voice rumbled against you, “When I saw you wearing nothing but my shirt after he left you unsatisfied, I was ready to bend you over the counter and show him how to properly fuck you.”

Nico’s words caught you by surprise, but he didn’t give you any time to respond before he was latching his mouth onto your clit. Whatever you were going to say was broken into moans as your hands gripped the edge of the table for support. He grabs your leg and hooks it over his shoulder as he licks and sucks at your core like this was his only purpose. His name falls from your lips in cries, and they only encourage him to plunge two fingers inside of you without warning.

“Oh my god,” You pant as your fingers grasp at his hair, pulling him closer into you.

Your body is writhing as Nico’s fingers curl inside of you, causing him to snake his other arm around you and hold you in place. He’s humming against you and it nearly sends you over the edge, but he’s retracting his mouth and quickly standing before interrupting your pleas and slamming his lips against yours. You taste yourself on his lips as he relentlessly fucks you with his fingers, and you feel the coil in your stomach begin to break.

“Let go, schätzi,” He mumbles against your lips, recognizing the sounds coming from your mouth from the many times he’s heard you touching yourself to the thought of him.

Your legs shake and your eyes screw shut as you release yourself over his fingers. Nico pulls his fingers out of you, leaving your walls clenching at the empty feeling, and he’s bringing his fingers to your mouth. You meet his eyes as he quirks his brow, silently urging you to part your lips, which you do while maintaining his gaze. He lets out a guttural groan as your lips swirl around his fingers, his cock twitching in his shorts.

“Nico,” You gasp, trying to catch your breath once he pulls his fingers from your mouth, “Please.”

“Please what,” He feigns confusion, the ghost of a playful smile on his lips.

“Need you inside of me,” You begged, “Please.”

“Think you deserve that after letting someone else fuck you less than twenty minutes ago,” He darkly laughed as he slipped out of his shirt.

“I don’t- I just wanted something other than my fingers,” You shamefully revealed, fingers toying at the waistband of his shorts.

“How’d that work out for you,” He hummed, “Just wasted your time being a slut when you could’ve just asked me.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, unsure of how to respond because you couldn’t have just asked him. It wasn’t that simple to you. You thought he would reject you, laugh at you, kick you out. Never in a million years did you think he would want you the same way you wanted him, but here he was. Stepping out of his shorts and bearing all of himself to you.

Pulling you into another kiss, he slides his length through the slickness between your legs, teasing at your entrance as you let out a whine. He carefully pushes himself into you, stopping when your head falls away from him in pleasure. Nico’s hand splays across the expanse of your neck, gently squeezing at the sides as he brings your head back up. Your eyes snap open as you groan and your hips shift towards him, desperate for him to go deeper.

“Want you to look at me,” He instructs, “Need you to.”

Your eyes brim with tears as he bottoms out in you, stilling as he lets you adjust to his size. He lets out a string of curse words in his native language before he slowly begins to rock against you until you’re ready for more. Despite the pressure on your neck, your eyes screw shut as you feel him sliding in and out of you. No fantasy you’ve had could ever amount to what you were feeling, and now that you’ve had the real thing, you never wanted to go back.

“Faster,” You plead, eyes opening to a slit to watch his face twist in pleasure as you clenched around him.

Nico’s quick to pull himself nearly all the way out before snapping his hips against your own and slamming into you. The moans you let out are pornagraphic as you cling to him to keep yourself upright. Your mind is hazy, full of only the man burying himself inside of you and hitting just the right spot.

He drops his head to your neck and begins to suck on the sensitive skin. You know he’s going to leave a mark, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as he was mercilessly fucking into you. One hand gripping the edge of the table and the other tugging at his hair, you could feel yourself reaching your breaking point yet again, and Nico knew that too.

He slowed his pace, but began thrusting deeper into you at a more controlled speed so that he could tease you to the edge. His quiet groans were ringing in your ears as your hips met his, your walls tensing around him. Nico hissed at the feeling, the grip he had on your throat slightly tightening just enough for your arousal to be heightened even more. It wasn’t long after that you were reaching your second orgasm of the night, and the sound you let out was what sent him into his own.

Nico’s hips stuttered against you as he continued thrusting into you until he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He was pulling out of you and carefully pushing you back and lifting your shirt to release himself onto your stomach. Your vision was blurry as you came down from your high, but you could still see him as he planted his hands on either side of you. The both of you were panting, trying to catch your breath as the silence enveloped you.

The air was sticky with an unknown tension, and it made you nervous. You didn’t know where to go from here, and you didn’t know where he wanted to go from here. Of course you wanted something more than a friends with benefits situation with him, but honestly, you’d settle with that if it’s what he wanted. You only let the silence last for a couple of minutes before you decided to speak.

“I should go get cleaned up,” You quietly spoke, avoiding eye contact with him despite just having him inside of you.

“Shower. I'm not done with you yet.”

#nico hischier #nico hischier imagine #nico hischer x reader #nico hischier smut #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

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lumosinlove · 3 months

Text

Vaincre

June part ii

Maybe Finn couldn’t play, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t gift himself fifteen minutes of watching Leo lay out on the mat and use a foam roller to stretch out his back.

“What you think you’re staring at?” Leo had his eyes closed, back arched over the roller, hands above his head. He’d turned the lights off for Finn’s sake.

“I don’t know, I think I might have a crush on you,” Finn said.

Leo laughed, a little out of breath as he bent his knees to moved the roller up near his shoulders. “Oh really?”

“Yep.” Finn adjusted his sling against his neck. “Pretty sure.”

“I thought you liked that Tremblay guy.”

“Who?”

Leo smiled and reached blinding for a resistance band to throw at him. “Stop your flirting. I’m trying to focus.”

Finn just rested his head back against the wall and grinned.

He should be more nervous. Game seven, enemy crowd, their entire season on the line. But it was different, being hurt and watching everyone else out on the ice. Something had gotten tangled, some tethers had twisted wrong, and suddenly there was a pane of glass between him and the game.

“Sorry,” Finn said. “Let me just reel in my adoration.”

Leo hummed and kept his eyes closed. He let out a breath when the roller hit a knot near his shoulder and kept it there, pressing down.

Finn let himself close his eyes for a few moments, too. He wasn’t sure when he would get the chance again without it looking, to any camera, like he’d fallen asleep watching the game. He could see the Instagram posts now, the tweets.

“Fish.”

“Yeah?”

He opened his eyes when Leo didn’t reply. Leo was staring up at the ceiling. The foam roller had become more of a neck pillow now and his hands were folded across the Lions logo on his sweatshirt.

“I’m scared,” Leo said softly.

Finn sat up. He looked hard in the dim room at Leo’s expression, but it wasn’t changing. He appeared calm. As calm as his voice sounded. These words—I’m scared—didn’t even sound small in his mouth. Finn would never have admitted to fear so easily, so cleanly. He—and Logan, he suspected—would have never let those words free on a day like today.

Finn pushed himself up from the wall and knelt across the mat until they were laying side by side on their backs. Leo ditched the roller and pushed their shoulders together.

“I don’t want it to be Logan,” Leo whispered. “I don’t want it to be Logan who gets through.”

Believe me, Finn thought to himself. I know.

“Who says anyone will?” he said aloud.

“Finn…”

“You’re so, so good, Le.”

“I—yes. I’m good but…”

“I know that doesn’t make Logan easier.”

Leo hesitated for a moment. “I almost thought it would be easier if we weren’t…if we weren’t on the best terms when this game happened. After the stuff about you and everything. I thought—I think maybe that’s why I was okay leaving without saying goodbye to him. Maybe part of me thought it would make this not so awful.”

And it was awful. They’d been trying not to call it that—who wanted to call reality awful?—but they missed Logan like air. And Finn, despite the concussion being minor, had been as terrified as everyone around him. And Jack had put pressure on them like an ocean current.

Finn watched the way one of the ceiling lights flickered. “Only Lo is one of the sweetest creatures.”

“Exactly.”

“God, he’s so nice to you, what a dick.”

Leo laughed and slapped him in the chest, avoiding his sling. Finn turned his head and found them nose to nose. He smiled at Leo’s smile and brushed the tips of their noses together.

“For the record, I think you’d be a truly insane person, not just a crazy goalie, if you weren’t nervous for a game seven.” He reached out his good hand and Leo put his own into it. “But you’ve done it before, baby. You’ve won it before.”

Leo nodded. His eyes darted around Finn’s face, as they sometimes did.

“Yes, I do have freckles, thanks for noticing.”

Leo laughed again and, with a groan, rolled into Finn’s side.

“Floor snuggles in the gym.”

Leo nodded closing his eyes. “Just for a second.”

Finn placed a kiss in Leo’s hair. “Wish I could have your back tonight. I really do.”

Leo picked his head up, hand on the lapel of Finn’s game-day suit. “You do. You always do. And you’re wearing the tie I bought you.”

“I am.”

“And you do look very nice in your suit.”

“Thanks, Butter.”

Leo groaned as he pushed himself to his knees, like he didn’t want to get up. “C’mere. Let me kiss your head Finn O’Hara.”

Finn laughed as Leo put his palms on each of Finn’s temples and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Why did you say my name like that?”

Leo bent farther and kissed Finn’s mouth quick. “Cause I got a wicked crush on you.”

The soft sound that came out of Finn’s mouth was was not one he recognized, somewhere between a laugh and a hum.

“Text me when you find Logan,” Leo said as he rose, then ducked out of the room to jog a few laps around the arena. Finn let himself lay on the floor for a moment, smiling, before getting up, too.

So, it wasn’t all bad, being with the team but not having to get ready for the game. He and Kasey sat in their stalls anyway, suits and all, and watched the locker room chaos. Sirius barely said a word to anyone besides Remus whenever he passed him by. He was locked in, and that sight was almost comforting. Finn could tell that it made the rest of the room feel more ready, too.

They had called up a kid named Hugo Holm as Leo’s back-up, and he looked like he was thinking about making a run for it. Leo didn’t seem to mind. He was being his usual, friendly self, but Finn could tell he was proud that he was the one keeping his cool.

Finn wandered around, too—he never could be still for long. MSG had interesting plaques on the walls. Famous concerts, famous athletes, and other celebrities who had made history there. He was stopped a few times by press, and once by Marlene who gave him his pass up to the players and families box to watch the game, but other than that, he kept his mind clear.

And looked for Logan.

He found Luke first. He was coming in from sitting out on the bench in his sweatpants and sweatshirt, blue-on-blue, and looked surprised to see Finn walking towards him.

Finn put his hands up. “I know, I know. Enemy territory. Just boyfriend-seeking.”

“It’s all good.” Luke took both of his AirPods out. “He’s probably—”

“About to sharpen his skates,” Finn said. Maybe he felt a little flare of competition. Luke was a good line-mate for Logan. He was. But he wasn’t Finn. “It’s that time of the evening.”

“Right.” Luke nodded. “You’d know.” He cleared his throat. “Hey, how’s the head?”

“Fine, thanks,” Finn said. “Third time’s a charm, right?”

Luke winced.

“Sorry.” Finn laughed. “That was supposed to be a joke.” He flexed his fingers on his sling side. “It’s really just this that needs to heal up, so. But at least I can take the sling off more now. Itches.”

“Right.”

This was awkward. This shouldn’t be so awkward. Finn wasn’t awkward, and yet here he and Luke Deveaux were, sizing each other up like they were on the ice.

“Well, glad about the head,” Luke said. He had ducked his chin a little and was fiddling with his phone in a way that, Finn realized, reminded him of Logan. “Um—”

“Thanks,” Finn heard himself blurt out.

Luke’s eyes darted back to his. “What? Oh, yeah. Sure.”

Finn shouldn’t feel competitive. He’d never thought of himself as jealous, but maybe that only applied to Leo.

“No, I mean…Thanks for Logan.”

Luke tilted his head. “What do you…”

“I mean, look, the trade was really…” Finn didn’t stumble over his words. Usually. Something about Luke’s intense steady gaze made him do that now, though. It was like trying to gauge Logan, in the early days at school. Trying to read what he was thinking. Finn took another breath. “It was hard. I’m just trying to say you sound really great. And he talks about you a lot. And I’m glad he has you. You know. Over on the dark side that is not Gryffindor.”

Luke had looked vaguely uncomfortable under the praise, but he cracked a smile. “The dark side, huh?”

“I said what I said.”

Luke smiled more fully and ducked his head again. “Well, that dark side’s gonna beat you thanks to your boyfriend—among other things.”

“We’ll see.”

Just then, Logan appeared from the Rangers locker room, on his way to the equipment room with his skates. He was wearing a backwards blue hat and a tight, gray undershirt that outlined every single muscle in his chest and stomach. He had a piece of rainbow sour strip candy dangling half out of his mouth.

Finn rubbed a hand against his jaw, trying to hide at least some of the shameless expression Luke must’ve seen on his face because he turned to look.

Logan did a double take, then broke into a grin.

“Un intrus,” Logan called around the candy.

“Whatever you say, 71,” Finn replied.

“Sirius, send happy emoji!” Logan shouted back, and Finn extended his slinged hand’s middle finger as he walked towards him.

He turned back to look at Luke. “Good game.”

Luke had a funny expression on his face, but he covered it with a brief smile. “He called you an intruder, by the way.”

“Oh, I bet he calls me all sorts of things.”

Luke just scoffed and put his headphones back in.

Finn didn’t see Logan as he entered the equipment room—he was typing out a quick text to Leo—until two hands grabbed his suit jacket and pushed him—gently, mindfully—up against the wall by the door.

“Wow,” Finn said, looking down into Logan’s green eyes. The candy was gone. “Hello there.”

“Stupid sling,” Logan said.

“I agree.”

Logan had deposited his skates near the sharpener and had his fingers in Finn’s hair, combing it back at the sides. “You come looking for me?”

“No, I wanted to get Luke to sign my chest.”

Logan made a face. “Shut up.” Then he kissed him. Sour-sweet. Finn let Logan take away the tension in his neck and jaw.

His green eyes were happy when he pulled back, if not a little tense. He was thinking about the game. He was still stroking Finn’s hair like he was trying to distract himself.

“You okay?” Finn asked softly, rubbing a hand down his side. Logan’s finger caught a slight knot and when Finn winced Logan switched to petting his good shoulder.

Logan pressed his lips together in a gesture that reminded Finn of Noelle. “Did you already text Leo?”

“You’re petting me like a dog.”

“You like it.”

“Well, damn, truce.”

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Sorry,” Finn said. “I can’t hear anything over your abs.”

Logan pinched his side. “Shh.”

“Of course I texted Leo. Did you hear what I said?”

Logan was frowning like he was working up the courage to answer Finn’s question, when his eyes caught on something in the hallway.

“Le,” he called. “In here.”

Leo poked his head in. “Oh. Fuck, I almost just walked into your locker room. That would have been terrible.”

“Luke said he’d sign my chest,” Finn said. “Bet he’d do yours, too.”

Leo’s eyes turned bewildered. “Excuse me?”

Logan slapped a hand over Finn’s mouth. “He’s stupid.”

The hand went back to combing through Finn’s hair seemingly against Logan’s will.

Leo just shook his head, smiling, and leaned against the wall beside Finn. “You know, Lo, we technically outnumber you. You should be the one in enemy territory.”

Finn raised his eyebrows. “Knut speaks the truth. The Knuth.” Leo’s eyes turned imploring. “Sorry, this is my first time outside in a while.”

Logan spread his hands. “You could have texted me! I was just here and—Finn appeared!”

Finn clicked his tongue. “You know, I felt a little more welcomed when I was being pushed up against the wall.”

Leo laughed. He reached out a hand and pulled Logan to him in one smooth motion. Finn liked watching them always, but especially lately. They had to be so careful with him just now and he liked seeing the easier, more reckless touches.

I’m scared, Leo had said. Finn saw it still in the way he arched his neck down to press his forehead against Logan’s. Logan must have felt it, because his green eyes looked at Leo’s shut ones for a long moment, before closing, too.

“I hate this,” Leo whispered. Finn put a hand low on his back.

“Je sais,” Logan replied, so softly that Finn’s chest hurt. “Me too.”

Finn held himself back. He knew this was between the two of them.

“One of us keeps going, or not.” Logan’s voice was low and sweet. “Still get to come home to you.” Then he said, even more quietly, what Finn had been someone shamefully feeling. “I almost don’t care about anything else but another summer with you two.”

It made Leo let out a surprised laugh, and Logan smiled, pleased with himself.

“Almost, I said.”

Finn had to leave them to it eventually. He made his way up to the box and narrowed in on Natalie and Noelle with their elbows on the railing. They each wore their half Gryffindor, half New York jerseys and had cold plastic cups of beer in their hands. Finn wrapped his good arm around Noelle’s shoulders in lieu of announcing himself.

“Hey Harz,” Noelle smiled.

Finn had always liked the way she looked at him—well, not always. There were those few summers, and that awful period of being a Lion with Logan but not being Logan’s. Noelle hadn’t glared at him, exactly, but she hadn’t not glared at him, either. It had been a soft, pitying sort of glare. A get your shit together sort of glare.

Now, she wrapped a hand around his waist. “You feeling alright?”

“Yeah,” Finn said. “I mean, my boyfriends are about to go head-to-head in the most important game of the season, but I’m super.”

“Don’t use the phrase head-to-head,” Natalie said with a wave of her manicured hand—red and blue. “It’s too on the nose for you.”

Finn snorted. “Very funny.”

In truth, he’d probably have to take a little break from the lights at some point. At least, those were some of his instructions. At least his shoulder didn’t hurt. He sighed and went to the bar to get a water, giving Julian Lupin’s hair a tussle along the way. Was this really how he thought of his life now? In terms of it could be worse?

He hoped not.

New York’s lights went down with a down-spiral, bass-filled sound. The players below became silhouettes. Blue or red—they looked surprisingly similar in the semi-darkness. Both faded into something like purple. Finn leaned his good forearm on the railing beside the girls and resigned himself to being able to do nothing but watch.

Sirius did everything he usually did. The pull, the need to not mess up made everything feel like a mess up in itself. He didn’t like the hum of the New York crowd. They shouldn’t have sounded so sure of themselves, not in the murmur of so many voices, not in the twang of their feet against the stadium stairs.

When the lights went down and some opera singer was announced to sing the anthem, they shouted out for their team over the lyrics like the fate of this game was unavoidable. Unstoppable. He could see many red jerseys that had made the trip to New York, but not enough to compete against the let’s go Rangers chants.

He would win the first face-off. He would set them up right. He wouldn’t think about the fact that they didn’t have Kasey or Finn. He caught a flash of sandy hair before being shaken out before it was covered by a number six helmet.

He had Remus.

A number seven jersey was talking a mile a minute at Alex O’Hara from one still dark bench to the other.

He had James.

If MSG did one thing right, it was the a pump-up. Lasers, blue and red, danced over the ice. It flashed against his gloves, momentarily making the black take on a blue-ish tinge that felt like a stain. He tucked his gloves closer to the red of his jersey, as if he could fight off the blue, and looked up towards the Lions’ box. He couldn’t see much, but he knew Regulus was up there. Remus’ family, too. Julian.

He knew it was just a cup made of silver. It didn’t do anyone much good. It was heavy and bulky and merely a representation of something, not a real…thing. It wasn’t victory, he just thought of winning when he thought of the cup. But he still wanted to win it for them. Regulus, Hope, Lyall, Julian. Remus. James. Leo. Finn and Kasey. Logan.

Himself. Even himself. That was new. Remus caught his eye and gave a firm nod. He wanted a lot of things for himself it turned out. That had taken the place of the nervous, horrifying need to win it for his parents.

Alex got kicked out of the opening face-off, much to the crowd’s outrage, and suddenly Sirius was face-to-face with Logan.

Sirius sighed. “It’s you. Hi.”

Logan smiled. “Are we really speaking English right now?”

Sirius just smiled.

“Well,” the referee said. “I guess I don’t have to tell you two to keep it clean.”

He dropped the puck.

Sirius knew James and Remus would fan out behind him if he won it—and win it he did. He could imagine them back there, the beautiful curves of their skates as they pushed backwards. He sent it right onto Remus’ blade, felt it snap there like magnetism. There was no time to look and watch, only to get into position—or, well, this was Remus he was talking about. There was no time to look and watch, only to try and keep up with him. He pushed forward hard as Remus evaded Logan. Sirius hit his stick on the ice and Remus snapped it back to him. Sirius tried not to take a breath as he brought his stick back—

The puck went right past Saint’s shoulder.

Sirius tipped his head back and closed his eyes briefly at the muted roar that followed. Thank you, he thought. Thank you.

He swooped his skates to the side, his feet knowing where the boards curved all on their own, and opened his arms for Remus. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe he was just in love, but he ducked down, visors clashing, and kissed Remus’ grin.

He wanted that photograph on the front page of every newspaper in the entire world, and he wanted a copy of each one.

Finn got a little choked up, watching that replay. The goal was in the first minute. The goal was just one goal. The kiss was everything.

Noelle rested her head on his shoulder briefly, and then put a hand on one of his cheeks and kissed the other.

Remus looked so surprised, and not so surprised. Sirius just let Thomas and James crash into the embrace and listened to his heart in his ears.

“All I gotta know,” James shouted right in his ear. “Is if that’s a new team superstition!”

Sirius just laughed, and James knocked their helmets together. He didn’t take his eyes off of Remus, who was still smiling, delighted. Remus brought his glove up and gave Sirius’ helmet a little shake. I love you, it said.

The first period stayed like that. Miraculously. Strangely. So unusual for the play-offs. Sirius didn’t feel any momentum shifts. The goal, gorgeous and quick as it had been, felt almost non-existent. It could hardly be called a lead and they were all playing like they had everything to lose—which they did.

The hits got worse, too. Kota had taken Logan out against the boards twice. Sirius wasn’t upset at Kota…both times had led to amazing chances on goal. Neither James or Thomas had been able to finish the job. But Sirius was worried. He knew Logan. He could tell Logan was doing his best not to respond in the way he usually would. All bite.

The whistle went for off-sides and Sirius saw Saint pull Logan into the blue paint by his jersey.

“Take the fucking mittens off, Tremblay,” Saint snapped at him. His blocker dug uncomfortably into Logan’s shoulder from Saint’s hold on him. Saint’s eyes were wild behind his mask. “I swear to fucking God. Forget them. You have to forget them right fucking now.”

Logan felt sweat dripping into his mouth. Leo. LeoLeo. “I’m trying to keep it a clean game.”

Saint made a disgusted sound and let go.

“Seb.” Luke skated up beside Logan. He had a slight cut on his upper cheek from a high stick. “We got you. It’s all right.”

“I don’t feel got.” Saint pushed his mask up for water as the referee called them to the circle.

Logan clenched his jaw and turned away.

“He just wants this,” Luke said, staying close to his shoulder.

“We all want this.”

“Saint wants it more.” When Logan looked at him, ready to brush that off as bullshit, Luke’s face, the green fleck bright in his brown eyes, was serious. “Saint wants everything more.”

“More than you?”

It occurred to Logan that there were different ways Luke could take that question. Luke didn’t answer any of them.

“Remember,” Luke said softly to him. “If I can, I’ll take the shot.”

The rest of the sentence was left unsaid. Luke turned away and put his mouth guard back in. He tapped Alex’s calf encouragingly as he got ready to face-off.

If I can’t, you have to. You have to.

Leo took some water, then squirted some down the back of his neck. He looked up at the clock. He looked up at the crowd and wished he could find Finn. Logan hadn’t looked at him yet while on the ice, which was probably a good thing. Leo couldn’t handle that green right now. It still took him a moment to recognize the 71 on his jersey.

No breakaways yet, which was something at least. He liked their defense. He didn’t feel that jump in his muscles whenever the puck crossed the blue line like he sometimes did. There was trust in this game, and Leo needed to lean on that now more than ever.

Alex raced towards him after puck drop, the rubber disk on his stick.

Leo watched. That was so much of what he did. Watch. That little black dot. He curled his fingers tight inside his glove and blocker and stayed low, following Alex’s feet, then Logan’s, then Luke’s. Where their feet pointed, they would shoot. It was like the tell that magazines wrote about attraction. The feet went where the person wanted to go.

Logan’s feet were pointed right at him, the hard toes of his skates pushing hard and outpacing Kota—but only just. Leo could have predicted that Kota would steal that puck from Logan, poking it out of his control with his longer reach.

Leo saw Logan’s face tense as he easily swung himself back around, his and Kota’s sticks clashing. Kota had been going hard on Logan tonight, but cleanly, and Leo knew Logan was used to it. He liked it, putting pressure on his opponents and receiving pressure in return. That didn’t mean Leo liked standing there with nothing to do but watch as Logan took a hit from some one who, in Leo’s mind, still looked like Logan’s own teammate. Red. Logan should’ve been in red right now.

The puck went back to Alex around the center line, and Leo watched for off sides, ready to raise his glove in protest, but Alex pulled it off clean. The ref spread his arms to signal it to the rest of the ice. Luke was waiting for Alex, holding his own against Thomas. He acted quickly. No sooner had he caught Alex’s pass as he raced up the ice than did he send it cross-ice to Logan—probably meant to make Leo have to stay up on his feet. Leo knew Logan. If Logan kept it—and he might—he’d stay back. He’d shoot from farther away. Leo edged a little farther out of the blue paint in front of the goal. When Logan passed it back to Luke, he sank back in, the posts coming into the edges of his vision. Luke was about to pass it back, Leo watched his feet, but no sooner had the puck begun its track across the ice than did Kota slam into Logan in a mid-ice hit. Clean. Clean, Leo reminded himself as his heart jolted with fear. No contact above Logan’s shoulders. That didn’t mean it didn’t make him hiss in a breath through his teeth.

The crowd roared again, and then louder when Logan pushed back up to his feet. He looked at Kota and Kota looked at him. Logan said something that had a snarl to it and Leo thought, this is the person who took your place.

They dropped their gloves at the same time.

“Lord,” Leo breathed to himself.

He pushed up and out of position, but kept his mask on. When Logan was fighting, the mask let him watch in private. Kota knocked off Logan’s helmet almost as soon as Logan knocked off his. His dark hair was sweaty and curling, and his fists looked strong as he made a grab for Kota’s jersey and latched on.

“Lo…” Leo whispered to himself. Kota had a good head over Logan, but Logan had him on his back in a headlock in five seconds. Easy. He snarled something else and then got up and skated to the box without any prompting from the timid looking referee. Madison Square Garden was on its feet, and they were about to play their first four on four of the night.

They were still 1-0 Lions as Sirius waited by the door for everyone to file off the ice at the first intermission. Remus came to him last, and Sirius was sure there were about four TV cameras on them, but Remus didn’t even try to hide his smile, or his laugh, happy and tumbling.

“Quoi?” Sirius asked, grinning back.

“Oh. I just wish we had been in a home crowd for that.”

“Don’t worry,” he said as he followed Remus off the ice. He reached up to brush his glove against the hands of a few screaming Lions fans. “We will be.”

Leo was pulled out of the line for the first intermission interview, and Sirius, upon seeing Kasey leaning against the side of the doorway to watch, decided to stop, too.

“How’s the kid?” Sirius asked, even though Leo hardly felt like the kid of the team anymore. He hadn’t ever, really.

Kasey had his hair pulled back into a bun, scruff on his cheeks. He thought for a moment, rubbing at his jaw, then said, “Powerful.”

Sirius nodded. “Looks good out there.”

“Yeah,” Kasey said, then sighed, watching Leo wipe his face with a towel as he listened to the question. “Looks tired up close.”

Sirius wouldn’t have said it. At least not out loud. And Leo was good at hiding it either way. He made Marlene laugh. He smiled and let his blue eyes flash up towards the bright light of the camera in his face. He thanked her graciously and stayed a moment to talk even when the camera had lowered, the feed having cut away.

“But powerful,” Kasey repeated. “Like I said.” He looked over at Sirius. “Nice celly out there.”

“Well deserved,” Sirius said.

Kasey laughed. “Sure thing, Cap.”

Kasey followed him into the locker room and Sirius stripped off his jersey, handing it off to be replaced with a fresh one. He wished it was their home locker room. He wished he knew its every corner. The back and forth to New York lately didn’t even come close to the familiarity he had with Gryffindor.

But Remus. Remus knew his every line and shape. He was standing with Layla near the water bottles. Something about his posture, the way he had his arms crossed, made Sirius feel like he was still wearing his PT uniform, the Lions logo small and over his heart rather than taking up his entire chest on a jersey. Sirius sat down in his own stall slowly. He unstrapped his elbow guards without looking away. He couldn’t entirely believe he had spent so long thinking that this, glimpses of Remus all the way across a room, was as close as he was ever going to get.

Remus felt his gaze. Caught him at it. Smiled.

Sirius had to shake himself. 1-0 was nothing in the first period. He should be thinking about their defense right now. And stupid penalties. Definitely not about that ring tattoo he had promised himself. Definitely not about summer.

He sighed, briefly wondering why everyone thought being the captain was so great, and pushed himself back up. He pulled his shoulder and chest pads over his head and dumped them in his stall before striding towards Kota.

Kota had the decency looked a little worried. He knew that he’d pulled them down a man twice, nearly back to back. He knew they were starting the second period four on four because of him, plus an extra two for roughing. The Rangers would have the advantage for two whole minutes after resting for a whole fifteen. Logan would be pissed. Alex would be pissed. Montague would be really pissed.

Kota pulled his headphones out of his ears. “I know, Cap. I know.”

Sirius nodded slowly. They didn’t know each other that well—not compared to the other guys—but Sirius appreciated a player taking responsibility when he saw it. He didn’t appreciate the way Kota looked like he was going to spend the fifteen minutes until they were back in the tunnel kicking himself.

“I know you know,” Sirius said. “And those were clean. I’m just saying…unless you think a hit will draw something, let’s keep it even strength.”

Yeah,” Kota said. “I know…You’re right.”

“Look. I’m not—I didn’t come over here to tell you that you messed up.”

Kota sighed. “Well. Thanks, I guess.”

“Just…try to reset.” The words felt ridiculous, coming from him, and Sirius swore he felt Remus look at his back, overhearing. “It’s a new game next period.”

Hypocrite, he could hear Regulus say. Like you’ve ever reset after a period in your life.

What did he do then? Saying being up one in a knock-out game was nothing was anything but a reset. God, he just kicked himself and kicked himself until he forced the good in him out. Until he played well.

“It’s not, though,” Kota said softly.

Sirius huffed out a laugh, tasting the bitter sound. At least he wasn’t the only one.

“Non,” he conceded, and set a hand on Kota’s shoulder. “Stay out of the fucking box.”

Kota smiled a little. “Yeah. That’s more what I thought you were gonna say.”

“I was trying to be nice.”

“I wish Tremblay would try to be nice.”

Leo, sitting beside him, laughed out loud. “Good luck with that, K.”

Finn had tried his best to not miss any of the action, but he needed a break when he needed a break. He never wanted to be back in a place where the lights took on a glare at the edges, colorful and impossible to look at. He had memories of Logan from Harvard haloed in strange glows. Kissing his cheeks and neck in that dim fuzzy light. He wasn’t sure which ones were dreams.

He waited, at least, for a TV time out, and watched Leo and Logan skate to opposite benches for water before pushing out of his seat. He found a section of the inner hallways that was dim and quiet and tilted his head back against the wall. His sling was digging into the collar of his shirt and he sighed. He wished for sweatpants and a bed, or a jersey and the ice.

Finn didn’t realize Natalie had followed him into the dim hallway until she cleared her throat. He opened his eyes just as she leaned on the wall across from him, crossing her thick-soled, dark red combat boots.

“Just a little light sensitivity,” Finn said. “Supposed to take breaks. Maybe I could wear tinted glasses inside? Don’t know how I feel about looking like a shitty rock star.”

Natalie smiled. “I think you could pull it off.”

“No, you could pull it off.”

“Well, I won’t argue with that.”

Finn smiled. His eyes had dropped to the ring on her finger, holding a glare of its own, and she must have caught him at it because she began twisting it. Almost nervously. And Natalie didn’t get nervous.

“Very shiny,” Finn said. “I mean, I think that’s probably, like, a requirement with rings, but damn. That thing got a light bulb in it or something?”

Natalie raised unimpressed eyebrows at him. “Just say it, Finn.”

“Say what?”

“I’m very versed in O’Hara maneuvers. Just. Say it.”

Finn’s mind began trying to jump ahead. Trying to figure out, as it always seem to, what she wanted him to say. The best way to say it.

He ended up with the truth, blurted out and soft. “You’re not going to marry Kasey and then suddenly decide…” He thought of Alex’s small figure, down below on the ice.

He didn’t know why he was choosing now to be worried about this. Why she was choosing now to talk it over. Period two was going on and—

The stadium erupted. They both listened until the goal song played—The Rangers had scored, then. Leo, was his first thought, and then Logan?

“1-1,” he said, he pushed up from the wall. His head still hurt but he wasn’t sure how to talk about this. Yes, maybe he was worried about Alex. But that wasn’t because of Kasey and Natalie. It was because Alex would do anything for anyone.

“Are you going to suddenly ditch Leo?” Natalie asked.

Finn shot her a disgusted look. The announcer, echoing over the ice said, Rangers goal by number 10—Finn’s heart stopped before he remembered that wasn’t Logan’s number anymore—Artemi Panarin! He let out a relieved breath.

“Well then don’t ask me that question if it’s so fucking absurd.” Natalie pushed up from the wall, too. “What the hell, Freckle?”

“Okay,” Finn said. “All right. I get it. I’m sorry, I just…”

“You just. I’ll tell you what you just. You O’Haras just sure like the feeling of the entire world on your shoulders.”

“Not really.”

Natalie looked at him for a long moment, then sighed. “Yeah.”

Finn watched her as her gaze dropped to her shoes. He’d seen Natalie at parties, whirling on the dance floor. He’d seen her on stage, performing small venues packed to the brim with people that adored her—one time waltzing around stage in nothing but a Winter jersey and tiny, tiny shorts, and knee high boots. He’d never seen her looking down like that before. It made her hair fall in her face, sort of the way Leo’s did when he was down. And he’d been down so much lately.

Another goal horn. Another goal song. It was the Rangers again. 2-1. Finn closed his eyes. The Lions were behind, scored on nearly back to back, within minutes of each other.

“It was Kasey and I for a long time,” Natalie said. “You know?”

“I do and I don’t.” Finn put his hand into his pocket. “It was Logan and I for a long time…but it also wasn’t. You know?”

Natalie nodded. “I know. I know what you must be thinking but—God, Finn. I do love your brother.”

“I didn’t mean to make you think I didn’t know that.”

“I know.” She held out a hand, lips pressed into a melancholy smile. She shook her blond hair out of her face and tilted her chin up. The way Leo did when he was proud, or winning. God, please let him win. Logan, I love you, but please.

The announcer, deep and booming, said goal by number 71, Logan Tremblay!

“Fuck,” Natalie said softly, looking towards the sound of the crowd. “Logan. Leo…”

Finn couldn’t say anything. This was awful.

“Come on,” Natalie said. “We’re missing all the action. Just a little longer and one of us will have one boyfriend each back around the house again.”

Finn sighed. “That’s good for no one but us.”

“Then we’ll keep our glee to ourselves and kiss them until it feels better.”

Leo threw off his top pads and jersey and went to the restroom mostly to have a moment by himself. The cool air in the hallway made goosebumps raise over his bare, sweat-slick shoulders and chest, and he pushed into the bathroom to run warm water over his hands, then ice cold water on his face. It was an old trick of Kasey’s. He’d told Leo about it just a few days into his first season. Leo wasn’t even sure what the trick was, but it helped. Maybe it was just because Kasey Winter had told him he did it.

Sirius had called for players only in the locker room, but he needed a minute. Just one minute. He tried looking at himself, but that felt like too much and so he closed his eyes, hands braced on either side of the sink. 2-1. He’d let in back-to-backs and one of them had been from—

Two arms suddenly went around his bare waist and his eyes opened, looking forward into the mirror.

Logan’s green eyes looked back at him from around his shoulder. He dropped his gaze for a moment, nervous, then looked back at Leo and turned his face against his bicep, lips brushing the skin. He was still wearing his undershirt and shoulder pads. They scratched against Leo’s back. Logan’s body felt hot from skating, but his hands were freezing against Leo’s stomach. His dark hair was a dripping sweaty mess all over Leo’s shoulder, his knuckles were busted and had dried blood on them…Leo couldn’t have loved him more.

Leo turned in Logan’s arms and leaned down until he could bury his face against his neck. Logan said something soft, maybe more of a sound than a word, and held him tighter. They were quiet. Leo wasn’t sure what there was to say. An apology felt wrong. It was all just part of the game. They also didn’t have the time. He had to go back in. Listen to Sirius. He had to get dressed, the buckles and the straps and the tightening. Logan had to get back to his locker room.

It was all the game—all of it except this. Logan letting Leo pull back. Logan’s eyes falling closed as Leo pressed a kiss to his forehead. Logan pressing a kiss right over his heart. Logan letting Leo leave the bathroom first before following. Logan looking back at him as he walked away and catching Leo doing the very same thing. That moment hadn’t been the game. That had been just for them.

Coach hadn’t resisted when Sirius called for players only during the second intermission. He’d simply taken his clipboard and his staff and left the visitor’s locker room to Sirius and his boys.

It wasn’t quiet, exactly. No one was speaking, but it wasn’t quiet. There was a thrum, energy mostly. Dissipating, then building and dissipating again as if with each player’s breathing. Sirius could feel every single one of them around him from his place in the center of the room. Like rays of heat, coming towards him. Leo had his eyes open, staring up at the ceiling without an expression on his face. Thomas had one earbud in. Pascal had ice on his thigh. James had ice on his shoulder. They were beat up. It had already been a long season and they weren’t finished yet. Each and every one of them was feeling that. Sirius knew. Remus had his eyes closed, hunched over with his elbows on his knees and his fingers locked. He looked like he was praying, but Sirius knew better. By the slight flick of his eyelids moving, Sirius knew he was rehearsing.

It was a show as much as it was a game. It was a plot, and everything was twisting, changing, always.

Two horrible goals let in by sloppy playing. Sirius wanted to grab that moment by its very fabric and rip it away, bundle it back in to where no one could see it. It had happened so fast. He saw, in Remus’ face, when he reached that point in his mental image of the game. His mouth pulled tight and he winced, sitting up and opening his eyes with a harsh exhale.

“I used to wish I could rehearse it,” Sirius said, keeping his eyes on Remus. Remus’ eyes softened. They said, of course you knew.

“Alors,” Sirius sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He looked behind him and found a stool. It had wads of used tape on it, misses from one of the garbage cans, and he brushed it off and sat, right there in the center of all of them. “Just—rehearse it and then do it. Playing well. Playing right.”

He looked up again and realized it was quiet now. Silent. Quieter than he’d ever heard their locker room. He looked down against a burst of hesitation. One of the stick tape balls had latched onto the bulk of his padded pants and he picked it up, mostly just for something to do with his hands. He knew he should be looking at them. Looking around the room.

Look up when you are speaking, Sirius. His mother’s voice came to him suddenly and his flinch was as exposed as Remus’ had been about the game. His eyes, involuntarily, darted to Pascal. Yes. He had noticed. Sirius looked back down. He didn’t have to look to see if Remus and James’ had.

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” James’ voice came and Sirius nearly closed his eyes he was so grateful. He had always been grateful for James.

James smiled at him from across the locker room, elbows on his padded knees. Sweat kept his hair out of his face and he had his contacts in. It made him look entirely different, Sirius had always thought. But not when he smiled. Then he became himself again.

“Ouais,” Sirius said with a slight smile in return. He looked down at the tape sticking and unravelling then reforming into a ball between his restless hands. “Yeah.” He took a breath. “Listen, part of me still feels weird, doing things like this. I didn’t say more than three words to half of you when I first came and I was a dick to the other half.” That got him a few laughs. He risked a glance up at Remus, who was suppressing a smile. “And it’s not like this is some speech and then we go out there and get the Cup. Non, we go out there and get to the next round which gets us to the next round….And it feels long this year.”

Some murmurs of agreement. Pascal shifted his ice to his other thigh—no, his hip. Sirius wanted to take all the pain from them and press it into himself.

Again. His father’s voice. Again, again.

“We’re one behind,” Sirius said. “It’s not much. The Rags are down the hall right now thinking about how dangerous a lead that is.”

“So, let’s be dangerous.” Thomas smiled wide.

“We are dangerous, T,” James said.

“If we are, we’re not playing like it,” Sirius said. “And none of us are okay with that, right? We have to fight harder.”

“Montague has an emotional game,” Leo said suddenly. “If you keep crashing the net, something’s going to piss him off and he’ll miss something.”

Sirius’ eyes went to Kasey, who looked back for a moment before returning his gaze to Leo. Tired. Powerful. He thought of Logan’s tipped-in goal, and how he’d stared after the puck for a moment as if he hadn’t meant for it to go in at all.

“I want to win back to back,” Sirius said. “Who else?”

Thomas, predictably, was the first to shout. He rose and pounded three times on the side of his stall. James laughed, Evgeni let out a loud shout—maybe something in Russian—and then they were chaos. All that quiet energy being let out as they made their way back towards the ice tunnel. Coach didn’t say a word to him, but when they had skated a few laps to the riotous sound of Madison Square Garden, Coach didn’t even look down at his line-up card before putting Sirius, James, and Remus out there first.

Logan’s wrist tweaked every time he turned it just so. Luke had gotten his cheek stitched up before the start of the third. Will had iced his shoulder until the very last minute after a solid hit by Evgeni, and Saint had kept his eyes closed nearly the entire intermission, zoned out to anything but the game. Crazy goalie, Percy had said as he passed him, but the words carried no real heat. They were banged up and tired, but the adrenaline filled the ice like water. Logan didn’t even try to keep his head above it. He breathed it in so that he didn’t think too hard, and so his body didn’t dissolve into any post-game pain.

He’d held Leo for a moment. That was what mattered as they stepped back out onto the ice for the third period. He’d scored on Leo, and Leo had still let him take him into his arms.

Alex skated up beside him and Logan knew he had something to say by the set of his mouth alone. It was very Finn.

“I know, O’Hara,” Logan said, but he sort of thought he needed to hear this anyway.

“If—let’s just say, if the opportunity presents itself…” Alex winced but continued. “You should probably try to make it seem like you meant to score this time around.”

Logan had heard it on the Rangers intermission report on TV, the commentators having a bit of a laugh at his expense. Sure enough, the game video showed him—and they had put it in slow motion, thanks a lot—blinking down at the lit up goal as his teammates put their hands up in celebration, as if he hadn’t remembered it was there.

“Shut up,” Logan said, but he really meant I’m trying.

Remus was aware of the ache in his muscles, but only barely. He was aware of the crowd, but only in the same way he became aware of their air conditioner in the first moments of waking up. A sound that meant nothing. It was just noise.

The force of his own body colliding against the shuddering glass thanks to Percy Marshall brought it all back into focus. The crowd roared with the hit, and Remus forced the breath out of his lungs. He ignored the fear—the phantom twinge in his shoulder and neck. He dove back for the puck.

He couldn’t watch himself lose this game. He couldn’t allow it. And yet, he had a sliver of control over it. He could pick the puck right off of Percy’s stick, but whatever greater force there was didn’t stop Luke Deveaux from being right there to block the lane he had thought was clear. He was pushed back behind the net, behind Leo, who turned towards him without taking his eyes off of Luke.

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” Remus said, then did his best to push into a burst of speed.

It worked for a second. He blew past Luke, who he heard curse as he skated hard backwards before turning to race after him.

“Re!” He heard Sirius’ stick tap twice on the ice and Remus passed. Sirius caught the puck in the cradle of his blade and then Remus was swinging his skates around with a sharp sound. His back was to the net, waiting for a pass back while also wanting to keep Luke in his sight. They crossed center ice cleanly, but Remus could almost feel the moment Logan got on the ice. The crowd changed, hoping—or maybe even expecting another goal from their newest member. Remus wondered if Leo’s posture had changed in the net.

He watched the way Sirius fought through it, the energy shift. His grey eyes were clouds and steel as he pulled his stick back. It should have sent Luke lunging forward into his path. Instead, when Sirius faked and passed to Remus, and when Remus got down on one knee to slap it hard towards the goal, Luke jolted the correct way. Even as Saint’s glove raised too slow, Remus’ shot hit Luke squarely in the shin and then rolled harmlessly until Saint covered the puck with his glove.

The whistle went and Luke stayed on his hands and knees, grimacing. Remus stopped hard inches from him.

“You okay?”

“Fuck, Lupin,” Luke groaned.

Saint was in his face in a moment, shoving him back, eyes hard behind his mask. “Can I fucking help you?”

“Whoa,” Remus put a hand up. “I—”

“He’s checking on me,” Luke said, pushing to his feet. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“Are you?” Saint turned to look at him. His eyes raked up and down, checking.

“Yes,” Luke said, and it was much more gentle.

Remus tried to catch his breath as he turned. He caught Logan’s eye for a moment, but they both looked away.

He looked up at the big screen to see the reply—to see what had given him and Sirius away. He only caught enough in time to watch Sirius’ face fall, in slow motion. Eyes closing, mouth forming a thin line of disappointment.

They weren’t getting through. They just weren’t.

Sirius skated beside him, taking his mouthguard out. “It was my fault.”

They skated to the bench together and Remus reached for the iPad once they were in their seats. “I missed the replay, so we’ll see about that.”

But he didn’t have time to look. Thomas slugged him hard in the arm and, when he looked up, it was to find Pascal alone in front of a gassed Fox and Lindgren. He’d broken away. He was headed right towards Saint.

“Merde,” Sirius breathed from beside him. “Please…”

Pascal faked one way, then the other, beautiful, smooth skill that Remus had admired for years.

Then Pascal took the puck, as if it were part of his own body, and put it right under Saint’s left pad.

Remus heard Sirius and his own shouts mingle as they rose to their feet, sticks raised.

Pascal was grinning by the time he made it back to the bench, glove held up to be bumped down the line.

“I think I still got it, boys!” he called.

2-2. Something had to change.

Logan was becoming increasingly wary of a frustrated Sirius Black. He knew better than anyone what that meant, and it didn’t matter that there was six minutes left on the clock.

He caught a shot of Leo with his mask up on the big screen. He looked good. Anxious, but solid.

“So,” Alex asked as they sat down on the bench, breathing hard. “How was he?”

“Quoi?” Logan tried to catch his breath between drinks of water.

“Secret lover rendezvous.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Alex just shook his head and smiled.

The clock was at five minutes and thirty seconds by the time Logan got back on the ice, and then four minutes and twenty seconds, and then three minutes and fifteen seconds. Still, nothing. Neither team was budging.

One minute seven seconds now. Coach was double shifting him and Luke. There was no time to think. Logan jumped the boards and skated hard to catch up with the action. Will had forced a turn-over and was now trapped between Olli and Pascal. It was a good coaching call. Arthur had obviously thought Logan’s line would rest another shift, but the Rangers hadn’t given him the time to put Sirius and Remus out against them once again. Logan knew they were the better line and that this was their chance to even the score.

The whistle went at forty-five seconds remaining for over the glass deflection right near Saint’s goal. When he looked towards the Rangers’ bench, Coach shook his head. Stay on.

That should have felt better than it did. It should have felt like trust and confidence. Instead, Logan filled with dread.

“Hey.” Luke bumped their shoulders, holding a glove him to his mouth so no camera could read his lips. “Remember what I said. If I can, I’ll do it.”

It was kind, but it was a fantasy. There was no guarantee, and they would both be killed by the coaching staff, not to mention the media, if they over-passed at such a high stakes moment.

“Thanks,” Logan said, because they both knew the truth. Luke’s smile was tight. Logan wondered if some part of him actually did wonder if Logan could follow through.

The thought struck a competitive chord within Logan that he wanted nothing to do with.

Alex got kicked from the face-off yet again—along with a sharp stop mouthing off, O’Hara! from the ref. It left Logan face-to-face with Sirius again, just as he’d been at the very beginning of this game.

They looked at each other. Sirius, who had seen him at his worst and at his best. Sirius, who he’d gone from looking up to, to calling one of his closest friends.

Sirius offered a small smile. “Friends either way?” he asked in French.

Logan nodded. “Toujours.” Always.

Sirius won the puck, but he didn’t hold onto it. It was a strange scrabble. Logan found himself playing from his knees at one point, fighting against Sirius and James’ shoulders and sticks.

“Tremz!” Luke shouted.

Logan shoved the puck towards him in a motion that carried enough momentum to land him sprawled on his belly.

“Merde,” Sirius cursed, and they both scrambled up.

Part of his mind was only on the fact that Luke had the puck and that he hoped the others could keep it if they were going to score. That didn’t mean he stayed out of position, but every part of him fought and wavered. Take the shot. Pass. Take the shot. Luke, obviously, was trying to keep the puck away from Logan, too.

But Percy didn’t know about their pact. When he was cornered by Remus, he sent a clean pass straight towards Logan.

The puck hit his stick blade right in front of Leo—and there was no time. There was no time to look for Luke. There was no space. A pass would send him, and maybe Luke, too, spilling right into Leo’s blue paint and goal. Logan realized he was holding his breath because it felt like the ice was closing in on him, so cold that it burned.

He looked right at Leo. He could hardly see his blue eyes through the mask’s shadow, only the red and gold gleaming paint and the lions teeth drawn around the cage. He could see Leo recognize his movements though. He knew Leo would recognize his movements. He knew Leo’s play just as well as Leo knew his.

Don’t. Every muscle in his body screamed the word. Not him. Don’t do this to him.

But Leo would hate him if he knew he was holding back, wouldn’t he?

Logan would hate himself either way.

There was no time.

Remus could only watch as Logan pulled his stick back. If this went in, it was over. If this went in, the Lions were finished.

“Read him,” he heard Sirius say in a fast rush of French. “Read him, Leo, read him—”

Please, Remus thought. Please.

Please, Logan thought, wind on his face.

Please. It filled his whole being.

Please, he begged, someone, anyone. He didn’t even know what he was begging for.

He whipped the puck forward, right at Leo, and watched it leave the ice, flat disk wavering against the air.

#vaincre lumosinlove #hockey au #coops #wolfstar #lelo #finnlo #sunfish #o'knutzy #finn o'hara #sirius black #Logan tremblay #remus lupin #Leo knut #sweater weather lumosinlove

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ohtobeleah · 9 months

Text

Bruises // Jake Seresin

Chapter Two: [Tactile Takedown]

Summary: When a missile is headed right for Roosters F-18, Jake makes a decision that could end up costing you your life.

Series Warnings: Heavy themes of violence, sexual assault, torture. 18+ content. Minors DNI. Mature themes. Being held in captivity. Hostage style situation. Main character death! Whump, Angst. Conversations that discuss antisocial & antisemitism views.

Word Count: 4.4k

Author Note: THIS SERIES IS CONFRONTING, FICTIONAL, AND DEPICTS IMAGES OF TORTURE. DO NOT READ PAST THIS POINT IF YOU BELIEVE THAT THIS SERIES WILL BE DETRIMENTAL TO YOUR MENTAL STABILITY. CURATE YOUR OWN TIMELINE.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

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Tuesday - April 18th 2023. D-day.

“How you doing back there Hollywood?” Jake asked as you settled into a steady climb, You’d just taken off from the carrier that had taken you out into the middle of nowhere to complete a mission that seemed somewhat impossible. But you were told these guys were the best of the best, that they don't get any better than the Daggers. An elite group of Naval Aviators who had completed some of the most insane covert operations you'd been blessed to read about. “How's my radar looking?”

And now? Well–now you were one of them.

“Radars clean Hangman.” You confirmed all the while trying to calm the pit of nervousness in your stomach. “Recommend increasing to three hundred knots, you've got Dagger Two approaching at around ten o'clock closure.”

“Confirmed.” Jake replied as he pushed up on his throttle, it sent your head into the back of your chair a little from the force of gravity changing around you. “Increasing speed, Rooster you still with me?” It was just the three of you, Rooster, Hangman and yourself. A small yet tactile team of experienced and highly trained naval aviators sent it to disable a rogue insurgent group that was making far too much noise for the United States navy to ignore.

The mission? Dismantle what Nav-Con believed to be one of the two main insurgent camps situated in the middle of a communication desert. With one highly explosive missile and two of the best air to air combat pilots the navy had ever seen, you were tasked with getting in through a valley that had been similar terrain to a mission Bradley had flown a few years prior.

That was why he was chosen. Experience.

Jake Seresin had a reputation, he was the Hangman. He had two confirmed air to air kills and wouldn't lose sleep over a third of forth. From what you could gather since being assigned as his weapons system officer, Jake took risks. Risks that paid off well. He was highly skilled and that somewhat egomaniacal belief that he was a god given gift to aviation made it easier to pull through with such risks.

That was why he was chosen. Taktical ability to compartmentalise.

But Jake Seresin had a fault. He had a single thread loose that if pulled could undo all that male bravado. He cared, deep down, about his squadron. His colleagues had become more like family than anything. He couldn't turn that blind eye that was so necessary to have if this mission were to fail.

And that's why you were brought in. Why you were chosen for such a dangerous mission. You would have been easier to lose against Robert Floyd or Mickey Garcia and the Admirals all knew it. Jake didn't know you. You were a pivotal part of the mission design, a means to an end if necessary.

You were simply expendable:

From the Admirals who had tasked Bradley and Jake with this mission to Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell, they all knew that if it were Bob or Fanboy sitting in Jake's WSO seat, he wouldn’t take so many risks. And for once–they needed him to take risks. To not think and just do.

“I'm right behind you, Hangman.” Bradleys voice came through the comms as clear as day. He was taling right behind Jake. “We’re looking good so far.”

“Better not have just jinxed us Bradshaw.” Jake sighed as he made a small turn right, heading down into the canyon below. “We get in, we get out and we go home.”

You had spent the last month revising the mission, sitting in hour long debrief sessions with Rooster and Hangman to go over critical points of the mission. You knew they were close, but there was an underlying sort of animosity you couldn't quite figure out.

And that's why they were both chosen for this mission together. There would be no love lost between the two.

“Still nothing up ahead on radar Hangman.” You spoke firmly with enough conviction in your voice to cover up the fact your heart was racing a million miles an hour. You never thought in your wildest dream you'd make it to TopGun and then further, a specialist unit. But this was not the time to doubt your ability. “All systems go back here, max ceiling is three hundred feet if you wanna keep out of line of sight.”

“Aye aye Hollywood.” Jake had never flown with a weapons system officer before. This was his first mission with one. When he’d been called into Admiral Simpson's office one random Thursday afternoon before finishing for the day–He thought for sure he was about to have his ass handed to him for something he’d surely done.

“Hangman.” Admiral Simpson stood at his desk to greet the aviator who looked a little green around the gill upon first entry. He gestured for the flight suit clad, broad shouldered man to sit in the empty seat beside you. “I'd like you to meet Lieutenant Y/N “Hollywood” Y/L/N, she’ll be joining us here for the foreseeable future.” Jake listened as he sat down beside you.

Without hesitation he sent you a strong smile that took up the entire expanse of his face, completely intoxicating and undeniably hollywood.

“It's nice to see some fresh meat around here, keep the competition guessing.” Jake chuckled as he extended his hand to shake yours. “I'm Lieutenant Seresin, Jake.” He was all confidence and cocky ego until you touched his hand, until your hand shook his back in a friendly gesture. Jake wasn't going to pretend that he didn't feel that sharp spark, that jolt of energy, that lighting strike that ignited his skin when you touched him. “But everyone calls me Hangman.”

“Hollywood here is actually joining us as a WSO Seresin.” Admiral Simpson explained as he let his elbows rest against the old oak desk that put some distance between where he sat and where Jake sat, completely unaware that your presence in North Island was about to completely change the trajectory of his career. “She’ll be your WSO.”

“I’m sorry–” Jake retracted his hand from yours as he shot Admiral Simpson a look, he had previously warned you of this reaction, so you chose to remain silent. Taking in your surroundings and observing Hangman's emotions. It was your job to be observant after all. “Since when do I fly with a WSO? I've never flown doubles before and I don't intend to start now.” Jake argued before he turned back to where you sat. “No offence sunshine, I'm sure you’re great and all, it’s just I don't particularly play well with others.”

“I'm more of a midnight rain kinda girl.” All you did was eye him off with an emotionless expression. Jake didn’t appreciate your tone, he did however appreciate the way your eyes nearly sparkled in the warm afternoon sun that came beaming through the window of Admiral Simpson's office. “I’m not too over the moon about working with you either.” It was a dig. “With a callsign as transparent as Hangman I’m sure I’m in great hands.”

“And I’m sure Hollywood has some outstanding depth to it.” Jake was quick on his feet with his comeback before he frowned a little more and turned his attention back to Admiral Simpson. “Why not Bradshaw?” He groaned, seemingly unimpressed by the decision to dump a WSO on him after years of flying solo. “He doesn’t have a WSO, or Coyote!”

It was then that Admiral Simpson pulled out a cream coloured file from his desk draw and slid it across his desk. He let out a sigh that told you someone wasn’t coming back from this one.

“Because we need it to be you.”

“Approach the canyon entrance with caution.” You directed from behind as you watched the Radar closely. “Remember, we only engage if absolutely necessary.”

“Once we’re in we make this quick.” Rooster spoke firmly, he had been a little hesitant to accept this detachment knowing its risk to reward ratio. But he’d been promised a shore leave after this. A well deserved vacation. “Let’s get to work.”

“Copy, heading into Risk Range now.” That was the name on the cream folder Admiral Simpson had passed you and Hangman on day one. Risk Range. Because once you were in there was no way of pulling you out. It was risky, and a mountain range that expanded as far as the eye could see. “Hollywood, have that laser guide ready for me.”

“On it.” It was like they knew you were coming, because as your radar began flashing with approaching enemy aircraft you knew immediately that they knew. It was a gut instinct.

“Rooster evade left! Hangman break right, we’ve got company.” Jake didn’t waste a second of time reacting accordingly. He broke right as Rooster tailed off. It was the very definition of an ambush, cold calculated and premeditated. “Jake!”

“Hangman on your left!” Rooster's voice came through panicked on the comms as Jake did his best to avoid the enemy aircraft that had seemingly come out of thin air: stealth pilots. Trained to be completely unseen until they wanted you to see them. “Break left!”

“Breaking left!” You twisted and turned and left fingerprints on the canopy as you tried your best to get a better visual. It was madness, pure madness. One two three six how many were there? “Come on, talk to me Hollywood, tell me what you see!” As Jake asked you what you saw you felt your heart pounding inside your chest as you saw a single missile. With wide eyes and panic racing through your veins, you spun around.

“Smoke in the air! Smoke in the air! Six o’clock Hangman break right!”

“Deploying flares!” It was only by the skin of what felt like his nose that Jake was able to avoid a direct hit. These guys were ruthless, where one was evaded another would pop up. “Rooster, talk to me man where you at?”

“I’m here! Hollywood, tell me what you see!” You could have sworn the next few seconds played out like a three hour long Christopher Nolan movie. Time stood still as Jake turned around to expose the full scene playing out on the big screen. A surface to air missile was aiming right for Bradley Bradshaw.

“Jake—“ It was a mumble, a murmur even. It threw a spanner in the cogs of this well oiled detachment you thought you knew everything about. Every angle, every concept, every reason why the three of you were specifically chosen. Because as Jake made a decision that would send the F-18 the two of you found yourselves to be in into the side of a mountain range, you realised there would be love lost, a hell of a lot of love lost if anything happened to Rooster. Bradley Bradshaw was Jake Seresin wingman, period. “It's on him.”

“Not if I can help it.” Jake mumbled under his breath as he swung around and headed straight for where Rooster was.

“Banit coming in hot on your tail Rooster, break right!” It was your confirmation that you were all in, every decision Jake made in the sky affected you and vice versa. There was nowhere to run, not here in this mess. “Jake, deploy flares!”

“Deploying flares!” It was only the smallest of miscalculations that caused it. If Jake had deployed his flares just three seconds prior, then perhaps you wouldn't have been hit. Perhaps you would have been able to save Rooster without sacrificing your own safety. Perhaps if Jake had deployed his flares just three seconds earlier, then the missile that hit the tail end of your F-18 with such force, that it blew the ass end right off the aircraft, wouldn't have knocked you out from the impact.

The explosion was the last thing you heard. The warmth of the fire that kissed your skin was the last thing you felt before everything was cold again. So cold. So cold that it almost burned.

“Y/n!” Jake shouted with a panic in his tone of voice as he shook you softly. “Hollywood! Wake up!” There was blood dripping from your nose, a sign Jake wasn't too keen on but other than that? He couldn’t see any other physical injuries. You still had both arms and legs. “Lieutenant Y/L/N wake up!” It was all so muffled, like you were under water, you could hear Jake calling your name, you could feel him shaking your body, but you couldn't talk, couldn't open your eyes. Until you did, slowly and with a groan. “Oh thank god.” It was the first thing you heard Jake say clearly without the muffled understone. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“What happened?” You asked softly as you tried to sit up. “Where are we?” Jake could recognise the panic taking over your being as he kneeled beside you, helping you to sit up with a groan. He noticed the way you held your ribs on the right side of your body, most likely bruised at the very least from the impact of your parachute deploying. “What happened?”

“We got shot down.” Jake said the four words no aviator ever wanted to hear. “You blacked out on impact.” He explained tentatively, not wanting to scare you any more than you already were. “I pulled your chute.”

“Rooster! Head back to the carrier, abort the mission!” It was the last thing Jake could communicate to his wingman before he lost his radio. The fighter jet was totaled, there was no saving it.

“Hollywood we gotta go! Punch out!” Jake shouted over the warning signals that blared in the cockpit as he spun out of control. There was no worse feeling than burning in. He hadnt experienced it often, only once before–but it still felt the same if not worse than that last time. “Y/n?” When you didn't respond Jake knew something was wrong, as he turned to look behind him he saw you slumped forward and unresponsive. “Dammit Hollywood!” Jake did the only thing he could think of that would help you– he reached over and pulled at the yellow and black ejection handle between your legs.

Almost immediately the canopy went flying as you shot out of the fighter jet. Jake saw your chute deploy–relief flooded his system before he pulled his own ejection handle. It sent him flying high into the sky at the speed of light. He just prayed when he hit the ground he’d be able to find you alive and well.

The time between the moment Jake hit the snow covered ground below to the moment he found you lying between the trees was far too long. He ditched his chute and ran and ran and ran until he was at your side. But there wasn't a mountain he wouldn't climb to reach you. That much was true. You were his WSO. His responsibility.

“Rooster?” You asked as it all came racing back. “Did he–?” You didn't even need to finish your sentence before Jake was giving you some sort of peace of mind.

“As far as I know he turned back to the carrier after we got hit. I haven't seen him doing any flyovers.” Jake explained softly as he assessed your current state. “How many fingers am I holding up?” You watched as Jake held his hand up in front of your face and moved it side to side. You followed his every move.

“Two.” You said confidently, still sitting in the snow. “I'm fine, promise, just a little bruised.”

“You think you can walk?” Jake was helping you to your feet before you even gave him a response. “I'm sorry you're in this mess with me, it's just–” It was your turn to interrupt as Jake wrapped your arm around his shoulders to help you stand. If you had seen him demonstrate this kind of behaviour three days ago you would have sworn black and blue you were dreaming, or that some fictitious creature from another realm had replaced the Jake Seresin you’d been flying with for the past few weeks. But after seeing his harrowing attapet to save his wingman's life without a single second of hesitation, you knew Jake actually cared about the people around him.

“It's fine.” You hissed as you took your first guided steps on wobbly legs after falling out of the sky. “You were protecting your wingman, I would have done the same thing.” Jake had a pretty nasty gash on the side of his head from when he’d landed pretty ungracefully. The side of his helmet cut into his temple on impact. “But now we’re down here, with no backup.”

“E-stats are still working.” Jake reminded you as he continued to help you further into the woods, hoping that it could break the chill of the raging wind. “They’ll see us, hopefully, if we just stay put surely the carrier will be able to track our location.” You knew right then and there that Jake was bluffing, you were smack bang in a communication desert.

“Hangman–” You sighed as he helped you sit down against a rock that was further in, Jake didn't miss the way you squinted as you did so, still holding your ribcage like something was wrong. “I don't think anyone will come back for us.” You did your best to try and block out the pain radiating whenever you took a breath in. “It would make more noise than they want to make.”

“You don't know my squad Hollywood.” Jake smirked as he shook his head slightly with a chuckle. He was right, you didn't know the lengths they’d all go to for each other. Jake reached out to cup your cheeks softly, the pad of his thumb swiped at the blood that had dripped down from your nose. “Someone will come, we just gotta get comfy till then.” There was a moment of silence that passed as Jake really took a moment to drink in your features. Even through all the snow and all the worry your eyes still sparkled the same way they did when he first met you in Admiral Simpson's office. “Your ribs? You think they’re broken?”

“Probably just bruised from the impact.” You replied, lost in your own mind as you stared at Jake’s features. From his eyebrows to his emerald green eyes that you swore swirled with desire. Everything was perfect, even the dusting of that five o’clock shadow that was threatening to expose his not so clean cut navy aesthetic.

“Can I have a look?” You missed the feeling of Jake's hand on your cheek the minute he was gone and had pulled away. You couldn't help but to chuckle as you compiled and started undoing your flight suit.

“You trying to cop a feel Seresin?”

“Would that be the worst thing in the world?” He teased back almost too quickly to not have already been on his mind. Jake was as careful as he could be when you had undone your flight suit enough to expose your black under shirt. He watched as you lifted up the cotton fabric enough so that he could press his palm softly against where your ribs were killing. His heart broke when you whimpered, he knew you were holding back as much as you could. “I know why they call you Hollywood, you know.” Jake thought a distraction from the pain and the situation in general would be good. He kept pressing his fingers around your side trying to see if he could feel anything unusual. He knew it hurt like hell, but when your eyes met his as he looked up at you from where he was kenaling beside you–he hoped the distraction helped.

“Oh yeah?” Jake could hear the pain in your voice as you tried to breathe through his poking and prodding. “What's the consensus?” You groaned through gritted teeth as tears threatened to spill down your cheeks.

“Your dads Rick Neven.” Jake concluded as he finished up his examination. “I thought maybe you were some childhood hollywood hotshot at first but then I overheard Mav telling Mando that you looked just like him.” Jake paused for a moment, reading the terrain of your reaction—when you didn’t totally annihilate him for figuring it out, he pressed on. “You don’t like people knowing you’re practically Navy Royalty, hence your mums maiden name.” He shrugged all the while you worked to fix your flight suit up. “And just like you said, just bruised, not breaks.”

It was hard to believe the same man who hadn’t really looked in your general direction for the better half of the time you knew him was paying this much attention to you now. But then again, he had been the one who got you into this mess in the first place. If you were gonna play the blame game.

“Guess there was some depth to it after all huh?” You referred back to the very beginning, to when you had first met Jake. He smiled at you with that golden boy grin that took over the entire expanse of his face.

“Yeah, yeah I guess there was.” Jake knew just by flying with you, albeit reluctantly, these past few weeks, that you were an extraordinary weapons systems officer. You knew your stuff as well as he knew his shit and together you actually made a pretty decent team. He’d been wrong about you personally though. He kept his distance knowing you were only supposed to be around for this particular detachment then you were off again. There was no real reason to get to know you when you'd be gone in the blink of an eye. But oh how Jake was kicking himself for that thought process. Because now here he was, stuck in the middle of nowhere with the very same WSO he’d been actively trying to not get to know. Something told him though the pair of you were going to have a hell of a lot of time to get to know one another. “The sun's starting to set, we should probably find somewhere to spend the night, maybe make a fire.” Jake looked around, trying to see if there was a place in eyesight where the two of you could make camp for the night. It wasn't ideal, but what else was there to do?

“Yeah–yeah that's probably–” Before you could finish your sentence you heard the unmistakable sound of tree branches being crushed under the weight of footsteps. You spun around to see what was behind you and your heart sank into your stomach.

Insurgents, pointing guns directly at you and Jake.

“Jake.” You whispered as you stood slowly, they didn't make any attempt to move from their positionings. Crouched behind rocks, trees and some were just out in the open. They were everywhere. Surrounding the both of you so that there was no way out.

“Get behind me.” It was the only thing Jake could think about, protecting you. He got you into this mess and he was sure as hell going to get you out of it. He ushered you behind him, making sure to keep turning periodically to look at all angles, wondering if there was by chance a way out of this. “Listen to me, you say nothing, you hear me?” Jake reminded you as he assessed how many you were outnumbered by. “No matter what you don't say anything.”

You’d seen movies before, what could happen to a woman held as a prisoner of war. You couldn’t help it when your mind went straight to that awful place.

“Jake, don't let them take me away from you.” It was the worst situation Jake had ever found himself in. “Please—don’t let them.” You begged as tears streamed down your face. You fisted at the back of Jake's flight gear he had yet to take off. Holding him as close to you as you possibly could. You were beyond terrified.

“Put your hands where I can see them!” One of the insurgents shouted as he stepped closer, still aiming his assault weapon directly at the two of you. “Don’t make any sudden movements besides raising your hands above your head.”

He was wearing all black clothes, they all were. Against the white of the snow it made them stand out like sore thumbs. But they did well enough to cover their faces. No identities were exposed besides your own and Jakes.

“I want your word that you won’t hurt her.” Jake growled as he began to raise his arms around his head. Palms facing out. You didn’t dare to move as Jake felt you balling his uniform in your hands a little tighter. “Don’t you touch her.” Jake had his attention drawn to the insurgent in front of him all the while you had your face buried between his shoulder blades—trying to shelter yourself from this hellscape. “Touch her and I swear I’ll kill you all.”

“Lieutenant, I highly doubt you're an incompetent man, so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt when I remind you that you have absolutely no authority or power whatsoever in this situation.” The insurgent snickered as he approached closer. “Take the girl.” He tilted his chin in the direction of his men standing off to the side. Before you could react, they were on you.

“JAKE!!” You screamed at the top of your lungs as one of them wrapped their arms around your waist and pulled you away harshly—Jake felt your hands slip from the Normex of his flight suit as he spun around to try and grab your wrist.

“Don’t touch her!” Jake warned again.

“No! No! Stop please—PLEASE!” Jake hated your pleas, your screams would forever haunt his heart. His fingers grazed yours as he whipped around to reach for you. “LET ME GO! GET OFF OF ME!”

“I SAID DONT TOUCH—“ Before Jake could finish his sentence he was in the ground lying in the snow face down. The insurgent making the orders had hit him over the back of the head with his gun. It was enough to make you stop struggling, enough to make you stop resisting.

There was a moment where you just stood there in the detainment of insurgents, taking in everything that was happening. Just how were you going to survive this? This wasn’t in the mission parameters.

“Get them to the truck, before we lose any more light.” The insurgent ordered before he turned around, shouting over his shoulder at his men. Jake lying out cold in the snow was the last thing you saw before it all went black. You felt a pinch at the side of your neck before everything went black and your knees gave in.

“Keep them alive, for now.” It was the last thing you heard before everything went numb. “I want answers.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

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#bruises // jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin x reader #Jake Seresin Whump #jake hangman x y/n #jake hangman imagine #top gun hangman

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mitchellpete · 7 months

Text

Kinktober Day 12 - Voyeurism

pairing: tom “iceman” kazansky x f!reader (x pete “maverick” mitchell)

cw: penetrative sex, voyeurism, could count as cucking?, brief icemav implications but if you squint you can ignore it

word count: 1386

kinktober masterlist here.

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

Maverick immediately knows what’s going on the moment he steps through the door, the noises loud and clear. His brows immediately knit together in confusion, in surprise, at the absurdity of the situation. The front door to your house had been unlocked, for starters, and you’re somewhere inside, and he can hear you moaning and what sounds like shit being knocked around.

A scowl meets Maverick’s knitted brows as he shuts the door and immediately makes his way down the hallway.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing; he’s certainly not gonna barge in and ruin your fun but Christ, is there any indication on who you’re with right now? He needs to know. And maybe he suddenly regrets everything you promised one another—that you wouldn’t catch feelings, that this fling wouldn’t last past his time at Top Gun—but maybe he actually did like you, and you just ruined it all the moment his hand turned the knob to your door.��

Maverick gets closer to the noises, a mixture of panic and intrigue seeping through him when he realizes the door is cracked open. Just enough that when he reaches the frame, he sees you.

You’re laying on your side, a big body behind you, long strong legs and a sharp snap of hips meeting yours. An arm around your torso. A hand propping your leg up for easier thrusts, a blue Academy ring tauntingly sparkling at him.

And then his eyes catch the head of spiky blonde.

For fuck’s sake.

For a moment, Maverick is almost blinded with anger. His heart stoops down to his feet and all he can think of is betrayal. How sick you are for doing this to him.

You’d been fucking each other for weeks. Had made a comfortable situation out of it, and came to terms with the fact that it probably wouldn't last. But Maverick was sort of on top of the world right now, getting to fly with his best friend, competing for the Top Gun trophy, being the best possible pilot he could be up there. Taking his chance to prove himself once and for all. And Maverick is always all or nothing, and if he knew that this would backfire on him, then he’d shoved it to the deepest corner in the back of his mind and chose to go through with it anyway just for the fun of it. And now he’s paying the price, and the promises he made you don’t mean anything anymore. How could you? Yeah, yeah, you’re not together, you’re not in love, you’re certainly not chained to one another, but why?

Iceman of all people.

That’s gotta be a personal fucking vendetta you’ve got against him.

God, and he really did like you..? By the way..? No matter how many times he told himself he didn’t..? Fuck that. He does. He did. He decided the moment he stepped inside your house. And now all of it is fucking soiled.

He considers running out, slamming the front door for effect and mounting his Kawasaki and taking a long drive out of here. Giving you the silent treatment the next time he sees you. Maybe finally punching Iceman in the fucking face the second he hears that irritating voice sound out his name in the locker room, just before going on a tangent about aircraft safety and some other bullshit Maverick never pays attention to.

But he does not move.

And he realizes a little too late how entranced he is at the sight in front of him.

Maverick’s eyes roam, but they settle right at the junction between your legs. His lips part at the sight of Ice’s cock ramming into you. You’re so wet, he can see it pooling with every slippery thrust. The sound of skin on skin brings a heat to Maverick’s cheeks, his own cock twitching in his pants.

Your moans are loud and repetitive, cries of pleasure he’s heard many times before.

Iceman’s pace is relentless, quick and hard and perfect. Even in the shadows, Maverick is slightly intimidated.

Maverick doesn’t avert his eyes, lets out a stifled groan at the feel of his hardening cock in his tight jeans. It all worsens when he hears Ice moan, the sound prettier than he’d like to admit. It stirs the desire in him, flushes his entire body in heat. What he would do to be in Ice’s position right now, fucking into you like his life depended on it, sliding in and out of that tight, wet heat over and over. He knows how good you look; he can imagine how good Ice feels fucking into you like this.

As if on cue, “You like to watch, Mitchell?” that familiar voice sneers at Maverick from behind you.

Maverick flinches, unintentionally takes a step back, but it’s no use. Ice is hovering over the side of your body, angling his hips to find a better spot. He’s got a shit eating smile on his face, staring right at Maverick, and it’s then that Maverick realizes.

It wasn’t you. None of this was you. Did… did Iceman know? Did he leave the door open for Maverick to find? He fucking would. And Maverick would get angry again if he wasn’t so turned on out of his mind.

You continue moaning, in a hazy state of bliss, but your eyes flick over to the doorframe at the sound of Ice’s voice. Maverick stands there, watching with a fiery gaze.

“M—Maverick,” you cry out, an arm absentmindedly reaching out in his direction. Your brows furrowed together, you hope he realizes you’re inviting him in; that just the sight of him almost has you keeling over and letting go. You want him in the room, but he doesn’t budge, remains in the shadows of the hallway, so you moan out again, “Please.”

Ice chuckles behind you, giddy. You’re amazed at how composed he is, how his thrusts haven’t even begun to falter. You’re so close to your orgasm, but he seems to be doing fine still.

“P–Pete,” you gasp a third time, and then Ice hits a very sensitive spot inside you. “Oh, fuck, Ice!”

The heat of Ice’s body pressed to yours, his tight grip on your torso and the force of his thrusts are dizzying enough, but it’s even beyond that when the door creaks a little wider. Maverick hesitantly steps inside, though his eyes remain glued to you. Leaning against the wall right next to the door, he watches as Ice’s hand clasps around your breast, roughly kneading at it.

“Knew you liked to watch,” Ice remarks, but he’s not looking at Maverick anymore. His eyelids are lidded in pleasure, lips parted as he nears his own orgasm.

Maverick’s stomach flips at Ice’s words, but he doesn’t respond. He focuses on you and how high pitched your moans sound, knows very well that that’s an indication that you’re cumming soon.

“Ice,” you sob, your hand reaching for his and then clawing at the skin of it. “I’m gonna cum.”

Ice leans in to press his mouth to your ear, teeth lightly grazing the skin of it. “Cum for me, baby,” he rasps quietly.

Mouthing at your neck, Ice’s eyes flick over to Maverick again, whose gaze has gotten wider. His entire face is painted crimson, eyes roaming at the sight in front of him, wanting every detail of your incoming release. Are you gonna cum for Ice the way you do for him? Let out that gorgeous sounding moan, long and lengthy when you start to shake?

You do.

Maverick bites his lip at the sight and sound, has to palm at his cock through his jeans to ease the ache a bit.

He watches intently as it takes Ice too, his thrusts finally sloppy, his body going slack next to yours. Ice groans out loud against your skin, his grip around your body loosening.

The sensation breaks your haze, and you throw your head back against the mattress as it sinks in. Finally making eye contact with Maverick and his flushed face, you bite back a smile as you try to figure out how you’re gonna explain the situation to him. Maverick is wondering what he’s gonna do about his fucking hard on. Ice is just sliding out of you with a laugh.

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melpomene-writes · 9 months

Text

scream (just for me, sugar)

im nayeon x fem!reader // smut (minors dni)

the whistle of the kettle is almost loud enough to drown out the sound of your erratic pulse.

almost.

it’s a deafening thump, thump, thump, that seems to irregulate itself every few beats, tormentingly prominent. your blood runs like ice, your skin prickled by a sweat so cold that you envy the boiling water inside the appliance.

your once sleepy town is now riddled with anxious insomnia, kept standing by a ceaseless stream of adrenaline, intensifying with every homicide report. so many murders. multiple culprits. nobody is safe.

at least you’re fortunate enough to be safe from one of the killers. ‘ghostface’ is what they call her: the masked monster who guts and cuts her victims, stamping their corpses with a polaroid capturing their dying breaths. psychotic. cruel. unpredictable.

you, on the other hand, call her nayeon. the love of your life.

it’s not that you’re oblivious to her nightly atrocities. rather, you’ve elected to not give a shit. ever since you first met the woman, when she bought you a drink at a dive bar and taught you how to play poker in a dingy booth with a strong arm around you, you’ve been infatuated. she oozes suavity, sex, and a protectiveness over you that makes you feel all warm inside. you’re safe with her, and she knows how to take care of her woman. so, you look past the barbaric crimes. it’s easier that way.

mostly, sure, your decision to turn a blind eye to her ways is horrendous. sometimes it upsets you. but nayeon kisses away the tears, holds you close and tells you that you’re perfect. her angel, incapable of doing any wrong. and it only feels right to believe her.

presently, however, she isn’t here to keep you safe. impenetrable darkness blankets the sky, leaving you vulnerable to the bloody fruits of the night.

with a shaky breath, you reach for the kettle, fighting off a tremble as you lift the spout to your mug. your unoccupied hand buries itself in the sleeve of your jumper—hers, to be specific, but it brings you the illusion of comfort. desperately trying not to hone your senses in on your pounding heart, your eyes focus on the water streaming from the kettle.

two loud raps sound against the back door of your house. a silent scream leaves you, the kettle falling from your grip. frantically, your hand flies to your mouth. it stifles your shriek as your phone begins to ring from the counter.

tears prick your eyes as you stumble towards the ringing. your quivering hand moves to check the caller id.

nay ♡

without thinking, you accept the call, bringing the device to your lips to whisper into the microphone.

“i’m outside. open up, baby,” resounds her voice through the speaker, deep and inviting as always.

instantaneous relief floods your system. it’s just her.

the frozen blood in your veins thaws as you hang up, shakily making your way to the back door. breathing deeply, calming yourself, you sequentially unfasten the numerous locks bolted to the door. even though they only lock from the inside, you still replace them every year, just in case.

the door swings open, unveiling the caller.

nayeon leans against the back porch with a perfected nonchalance. her height and broadness obscures most of the porch light, faintly silhouetting her formidable frame. she isn’t wearing the cloak she kills in, only an old pair of jeans and a wifebeater, and the shadow she casts would have to work overtime to conceal the rippling contours of her muscle. her arms, delightfully bulky with strength, are littered with small visible scars, her left arm especially while decorated shoulder-to-wrist with clockwork tattoos. dark crimson stains her forearms—her torso, too, forcing her tank to cling to the sculpted flesh beneath. the bedevilled mask after which her title was earned, a black hood with a now-bloodied white, ghoulish face contorted into a scream, still shrouds her beautiful face.

even though she’s currently working two extremely sodden leather gloves off her hands, and you can’t see the smirk inevitably residing beneath her guise, she’s a work of art. a forbidden sculpture, as captivating as she is fear-inspiring.

one look at her, and all the past hours of anxiety melt from your veins.

“did i scare you?” nayeon lilts bemusedly, faintly muffled by the mask, pushing up from her languid stance. she invites herself into your home, stuffing her filthy gloves into her jean pocket. the delightfully strong hands underneath are pristinely clean, to keep forensics guessing, of course, but she likes to keep her hands tidy just for you.

a rattled breath escapes you as she closes the door behind. “everyone’s scared right now, nay,” you shake your head. “halloween is only a few days away, and the bodies will pile up like they always do. plus, you never told me you were coming. you have to expect the worst these days,” you frown, gesturing to the kitchen knife you keep out for emergencies. she sharpened it herself, coupled with a promise that you’ll never have to use it with her to protect you.

beneath the mask, she snorts. “takes a new kind of stupid to go around killing on halloween,” nayeon chuckles. “cops are on high-alert, you got parents and kids walking about knocking on doors—”

“does that ever stop anyone in this town?” you sigh. a chill overcomes you as you dwell on the thought. shuddering, you rub your arms through your sweater.

“it stops me.” a sympathetic smile is audible in her voice, even if you can’t see it. “so i’ll be right by your side if anyone tries something, and you know they’d take one look at me and run for the hills, sweetheart,” she reassures you. the tone is a medicinal honey for your ears, soothing all your fears in a matter of seconds.

gently, your lips quirk into a small smile. “will you tell me when you’re gonna get here, instead of just showing up unexpectedly like today?” you ask, taking a step forward.

nayeon matches your stride, closing the gap between you. she towers over you, a viper poised to intimidate its dinner, a pitiful little mouse.

both of you find it exhilarating.

a psychological gravity wills you backwards until the edge of the counter meets the small of your back. the display of submission doesn’t go amiss. she elicits a pleased hum, closing in on you, musing, “i thought you expected me tonight, honey.”

confused, you quirk your brow. “oh?”

“don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about the pictures you sent me a few hours ago,” she light-heartedly tuts.

oh, those pictures.

the thick, perturbed night air had wiped the slate of your mind clean. you had forgotten all about the fact that underneath nayeon’s old jumper, you’re donning a pink, lacy matching set that you bought earlier this afternoon, knowing full well she adores you in anything dichotomous to her rough nature. With the intention of riling your girlfriend up, just enough to make the night unforgettable, you snapped a couple of pictures without the jumper…

images that she saw, she opened, before leaving you on read.

recalling this frustrating detail, you pout.

nayeon observes this, reaching to toy with the hem of your jumper. “what’s the matter?” she purrs, ghosting her fingers over the tops of your thighs. “are you mad at me, or something?”

she’s teasing you, knowing full well you couldn’t resent her if you tried. besides, there’s no hope in trying when her fingers are so warm, despite the autumnal chill she walked god-knows how long in to reach your house.

pout faltering in part, you hook your fingers through the belt-loops of her jeans, beckoning her dangerously close. “you didn’t text me back when i sent you those pictures,” you mumble, looking up into the abyssal black sockets of her mask’s eyes.

she sucks in a breath; with her expression obscured, you can’t determine whether it’s one of titillation or mocking pity. with her, they typically coincide. “oh, baby,” she drawls, her other hand reaching to caress your cheek. “you know i would have. i was a little preoccupied, that’s all.”

your eyes flicker to her left wrist, mesmerised briefly by the whisps of black ink painting a machine of cogs and gears all the way to her shoulder. the carefully administered art is jarringly tainted by splashes and sprays of dried blood.

“i haven’t stopped thinking about them,” she continues, trailing her fingers down your neck, drinking in the way you shiver at the gentle touch. “you were so distracting, i got a little messier than intended. that poor sucker had no idea what a treat i had waiting for me,” she mutters, her implications somehow disturbing yet positively nectareous. “let me make it up to you, yeah?”

“hm… boots off first,” you smile, kissing her clavicle where it’s exposed.

unlacing your fingers from her belt loops, you spin on your heel and embark on a path upstairs, leaving nayeon to remove her filthy footwear. she kneels down and begins to work at them, but the freakish face of her mask is tilted towards you. “you’re gonna make me chase you, huh, sweetness?”

giggling lightly, you look over your shoulder. “i thought you were into that?”

rather than awaiting her response, you elect to disappear behind a door frame, excitedly making your way up the stairs. when you reach the bedroom, you discard your jumper, roughly inspecting it for any smears of blood under the glow of the lamplight before deciding that it can wait until tomorrow morning. you toss it carelessly somewhere behind you, far more focused on giving yourself a final once-over in the mirror.

nayeon could care less about what you wore in her presence, but whenever you make a special effort for her, she thanks you in full. an artistic streak lives in her, and she can’t help but want to see you dolled-up in every delicate fabric, every color, in every light. her passion for photography knows two flavours: malevolence by her knife and knuckles, and sensuality by you, her seraphic muse, her aphrodite.

absent in the morsel of vanity you allow yourself, you fail to register nayeon’s shadow lingering by the door frame. “isn’t that a sight,” she marvels.

your attention shifts to the door, where nayeon shamelessly lets her eyes roam over the curves of your body; you don’t need her to remove the mask to feel the weight of her lustful, wandering gaze.

she stalks over to you. despite having met her almost a year ago, butterflies still emerge when she closes in on you like this: unhurried, yet with ravenous intent; a lion cornering a gazelle.

“so beautiful,” she murmurs as you gravitate towards her, muffled under the mask. a cloudy warmth floods your skin at the sincerity in her tone.

in an unnecessary—but swoon-worthy—display of unwavering strength, nayeon bends down and lifts you into her arms by your thighs. your legs wrap around her waist as your hands cup her neck, thumb grazing over the flexing tendons underneath her skin, while she carries you over to the bed. you’re eye-to-eye with a blood-soaked mr. hyde, yet safe in the embrace of dr. jekyll.

brutal as she may be, nayeon lowers you onto your bed with nothing but care, aligning your head with the plumpest pillow she can see. she hovers over you, parting your legs gently with her knee, working it snugly against your clothed heat, admiring the way your mouth parts breathlessly at her touch.

your hands explore her, eagerly ushering her closer until your chests are flush against one another. she’s wonderfully warm; the intimacy of the proximity is enough to offset the strange feeling of her wifebeater, damp with blood, pressed against you. you deeply inhale her scent, looking past the remnants of gore, focusing on the spiced jasmine of the soap she likes. caged between her body and the mattress, you’re home.

the need to feel her lips against yours is an incandescent flame, her knee between your legs only serving as fuel for the fire. ordinarily, you would savour the firmness of her arms and back, ghosting your nails over the muscle in the way that deliciously tests her patience, but at the present you want nothing more than to rid her of that damn mask. you reach for the black fabric of the hood, tilting your head to pre-emptively align your lips.

alas before you can pull it off, a hand clasps around your wrist. a whimper escapes you, a pang of desperation striking your heart. “kiss,” you mumble half-intelligibly, pouting at the denial.

nayeon chuckles darkly, revelling in the despairing look in your eyes. god knows she could never refuse you completely. but there’s something inexplicably delightful about making you ache for her, having you succumb to the depths of depravity, especially with the remnants of a kill fresh on her mind and body. a slither of ghostface has to surface on occasion—she can’t have you getting too spoilt.

“patience.”

as delicately as it’s spoken, the word is a command. a whimpered plea might alter her decision, maybe with a few frustrated tears; you know that rendering yourself to such a pathetic state historically garnered the sweetest outcomes. the quietest “nayeon” would have her ripping the mask off without question, banishing any thought she had of continuing this little trial of obedience.

obedience, however, always comes with rewards. the promise of over-indulgence is left unspoken. thus you suppress your visceral urge to give into the craving, relaxing back into the pillow.

“that’s my good girl,” nayeon coos, running her thumb over your bottom lip. it quivers at the pet name as your heart swells with emotion. no euphoria compares to being her good girl. there isn’t a higher praise she could offer you. being hers, nayeon appreciating your submission and discipline… the world could collapse and it wouldn’t dampen your adoring pride.

“let me make you feel good,” she murmurs, nudging your legs further apart with her knee.

bracing herself with a thick, veiny forearm by your head, she lets her hand inch its way down your body. nayeon takes her time, grazing her thumb over your nipple through the lace of your bra. you shiver under her warm touch, a welcomed contrast to the crisp night air.

her touch lightens as she drifts her fingers over your abdomen—not light enough to tickle, but enough to evoke a reflexive twitch. your stomach flutters with anticipation, heat emanating from between your thighs as her fingers inch towards where you need her most.

“don’t tease me, nay,” you blurt out, thoughts a wanton, foggy mess.

as her calloused fingertips slip beneath your underwear, torturously close to the crest of your desire, she pledges, “i wouldn’t dream of it, sugar.”

in tandem, as the heat radiating from nayeon’s fingers coalesces with your aching arousal, you both suck in a short, shallow breath. not even your bout of bone-chilling fear from earlier was enough to offset the product of hours of yearning leading up to this moment. and, while a clearer-thinking version of yourself would protest, the sight of her all roughed-up and covered in the aftermath of bloodlust only intensifies those feelings. it’s only natural; anyone blessed enough to have had a taste of what she can do to a woman, just with a couple of fingers and a few buttery-sweet words, would find themselves craving seconds and thirds.

beneath the pantomimic veil, you can picture the arrogant smirk on her face clear as crystal. she reserves every right to be cocky when she has you conditioned to practically drip at her whim.

calculating, she presses against your heat, rubbing slow circles over your quim until it’s thoroughly coated in your slick. it’s a dizzying sensation: the pleasure is faint enough to leave you wanting, and she seldom allows her fingertips to brush against your clit, but when she does, it’s electric.

“do you want me inside?” she asks with prurience. with a shallow breath, you nod, gently rocking your hips into her touch. “words,” she demands softly.

“please,” you whimper, praying to some indulgent deity that it would suffice. you pull her as close as you can manage, a hand slipping under her tank to roam the powerful muscles of her back. nothing compares to feeling her raw strength.

hasteless, she sinks a thick finger into your heat. you bite your lip, feeling yourself clench around each knuckle as she buries herself to the hilt. humming contentedly, she gives a couple of slow, experimental thrusts, musing to herself, “i’ve been thinking about this all afternoon.”

a breathy sigh escapes you as her finger ghosts over something devilishly sweet inside of you. it awakens something. opting to poke the bear, judgement overridden by need, you ask, “even while you were—” she works a second finger into you, delivering a delightful fullness. “—‘out’?”

amusement rumbles through her chest; your hand flattens against her sturdy back, bracing yourself for her response. “i didn’t take you for a deviant, sweetness,” nayeon laughs, beautifully sinister. you whine as she curls her fingers, her thumb sweeping over your clit. she thrusts again, deeper, sights aimed down at the spot that will have you writhing underneath her. her anatomical knowledge extends well beyond arteries and veins—you’ve learned that much over the months.

“is that a—oh—no?” you choke on a moan as she caresses that spot within. she doesn’t stop, undulating her fingers deliberately while you lose your ability to think, melting into the bedding.

“you wanna know the truth?” she husks, taking her time with her heavenly affliction.

lost in sensation, you nod, the gesture cut short when concurrently with her blissful ministrations, she begins to rub circles against your clit with her thumb. your head lolls back with a ragged mewl.

nayeon feeds her ego with your ruination. “the truth is, i woke up wanting to fuck you into the mattress,” she groans, her wave-like rhythm inside of you bleeding into something slightly rougher, something you didn’t know you needed until it sends shockwaves through your core. “i had a whole plan going. i was gonna go home and shower after dealing with my little ‘problem’, strap up just for you, bring a bottle of that wine i know you like. but then,” she growls, accentuated by a rather mean thrust, “you just had to send me those pretty little pictures. and that bastard couldn’t bleed out fast enough.”

the hiss she relinquishes as your nails sink into the thick muscle of her back was almost enough to send you into orbit. “i must have stabbed him forty times before he finally stopped breathing. i even asked him to speed it up. explained i had a meal waiting for me back home, and i intended to eat good tonight,” she chuckles with cruelty.

“fuck, nay,” you moan, indescribably turned on by her tale. it’s wrong, it’s so fucking wrong, but knowing you have that effect on her feels right. you’re meant to be together.

“you’re squeezing me, baby,” she drawls, effortlessly maintaining her pace through the added force. “you don’t care what i am, do you? not when i make you feel this good.”

relentlessly, she rips mewl after mewl from your throat. you’re drowning in the lewd sound of your wetness muddied with the upper palm of her hand slapping against your heat with every deep thrust. clawing at her back, you pant, incapable of thought beyond nayeon.

overwhelmed, you bury your face in her shoulder, whining against her salt-licked skin, “just like that. just like that. ‘m gonna come, nay—”

“come for me, sugar,” she grunts.

the world grinds to a halt as you fall over the precipice with a sweet, hoarse cry. relief rocks through you with intensity, all the tension leaving your body in a violent shudder. nayeon slows down, rolling her hips alongside more tender thrusts to prolong your ecstasy, murmuring, “that’s it. always so good for me.”

as the stars disappear from your vision, a hazy bliss washes over you. nayeon is still nestled inside of you, and you feel her fingers twitch with an eagerness to pummel you to peak all over again, but she stills as she watches you succumb to that foggy afterglow.

in a brief moment of clarity, you glance up at her. right now, all you want is to see her face. her face, not the visage of a blood-spattered ghoul.

shakily, you reach up and tug off the mask by the fabric of its hood.

nayeon, while her lips are quirked with unadulterated arrogance, stares down at you with a softness in her gaze you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. her dark hair is tousled and struggling to stay in its style, and a splash of crimson stains her neck, yet she remains the most beautiful woman you have ever laid eyes on.

maybe the tentativeness in her steel eyes is extra prominent because this is the first time you have given yourself to every part of her. for possibly the first time, she realizes you love her for who she is, even if it isn’t right, even if it’s depraved, immoral, criminal.

you think, as a smile finds its way onto your lips, that you’re overdue for a kiss.

tossing the mask to the side, you crane your neck off the pillow and seal the gap between your lips. they’re smooth, warm and taste faintly of the plain, unbranded chapstick she swears by, and after what feels like an eternity, they’re on yours at last. sighing, nayeon leans down further so you don’t have to exert yourself, resting her weight on you to deepen the kiss. every languid, intimate glide of her lips against you makes your heart flutter.

all too soon she breaks away, panting softly. “mind if i take my shirt off?” she rasps. “it’s starting to dry.”

laughing softly, you roll your eyes. “yes, severely,” you tease. “keep wearing your crunchy tank top.”

nayeon sits upright, carefully withdrawing her fingers from your warmth, groaning, “let’s keep ‘crunchy’ out of the bedroom, shall we?” she smiles at the giggle you let out.

the giggle is swiftly cut short as she pulls the tank off her body, leaving her bare from the waist up—wearing a bra gives her one more thing to clean blood off of, so she rarely wears them. muscle ripples through her rich brown skin, a testament to her formidable strength. years of hard work is chiselled into her flesh. if that isn’t enough to make a woman drool, your eyes shamelessly drift to her chest, zeroing in on her dark areolas. you follow her body down, past the enticing swell of her chest, following the faint happy-trail down to the line of her belt.

you almost regret sending nayeon those pictures, otherwise, according to her, she would be packing.

she doesn’t need to ask if you like what you see, although her ego does persuade her to do so on occasion. she knows she’s a sculptor’s dream.

equally as greedily, nayeon indulges in the sight of you sprawled out beneath her, a monolithic demon of lust towering above you. absentmindedly she licks her fingers clean of your spend, smirking as you tremble at the sight.

just like that, an ache begins to well in your core all over again.

hungry for another slice of euphoria, you hook your thumbs underneath the band of your panties, pushing them down from your hips. nayeon helps you, and if you’re hungry, she’s positively voracious; you hear the distant snap of elastic as she rids your legs of them.

frowning, you give her a vaguely disappointed look. “i bought those today,” you pout.

nayeon attempts to soften the blow with a kiss to your ankle. “please, they were already ruined. your bra has blood on it anyway. i’ll replace them,” she grumbles, rolling her eyes, discarding the underwear.

the former comment brings warmth to your cheeks. rudimentary as it is, she always takes pride in how your body responds to her leading up to the deed, and the state of you afterwards.

with your legs either side of her, nayeon lowers herself back on top of you, bracing herself on the headboard as she leans down for another kiss. the buckle of her belt is cold as ice against your navel, evoking a shiver from you as you arch up to meet her halfway. this time, there are no illusions of romance as her lips move against yours, only burning passion and an insatiable appetite. softly, you moan against her, silently willing for her to take the reins.

hushed against your lips, she murmurs an offer you doubt you could ever bring yourself to refuse: “more?”

your body begs for it. “i’m yours.”

fervently, nayeon trails wolfish kisses down your neck, the imprints of her lips warm in her wake. she laves her tongue across your nipple over the lace of your bra, the warmth and sensitivity rendering you breathless. but she is as desperate for a taste of you as you are to satiate her, so she continues her path south until her face settles between your spread thighs.

nayeon wastes no time in easing them over her broad shoulders. her breath is tantalising, fanning over your nerves in an evil fashion as she admires how you glisten for her, craving a reckoning only her mouth could ever bring.

with an iron grip on your thighs and a ravenous growl, she closes her lips around your heat, devouring the remnants of your orgasm with a swipe of her tongue.

the sound that escapes you is unintelligible, bleeding into an even sharper mewl as nayeon moves to lazily suck on your clit. pleasure spikes your veins, a rapturous injection of white light that makes you forget your own name.

she takes her time, staring at your panting chest and twitching stomach, watching as you surrender yourself to a delightful madness under her control. you’re perfect in this moment to her: oblivious to anything other than the pleasure she eagerly delivers you, incapable of anything but garbled moans of her name and senseless, impulsive pleas. delirious. utterly delirious.

so she stops.

despairing, you whimper while she grins, hips bucking into the air with the hope of finding relief. your clit throbs, begging for the return of her lips and tongue.

“nayeon, please,” you sob. you hold your breath as she appears to descend once again, met only with the betrayal of a chaste kiss to your inner thigh. frustrated tears prick your eyes.

“you look like an angel right now,” she hums sadistically. “so used to getting what you want that you shut down when you’re denied it.”

the gnawing in your core spirals with each passing second her lips are detached from your slick heat. a scientist testing a hypothesis, nayeon analyses your face as it contorts into a display of pitiful desperation. she purrs as your hole clenches around nothing, essence dripping.

“this is torture, isn’t it, sweet thing?” she laughs fiendishly. “that needy little pussy is crying for me.”

the weight of her gaze borders on humiliating. the denial is agony. those crystalline tears threaten to spill.

“don’t worry, baby. i won’t make a habit of this,” she coos, a mocking undertone laced in her whisky-smooth voice. “you’re always so good for me. it wouldn’t be fair, now, would it?” god, you’re aching with such ferocity it makes you want to claw off your skin. delicate pleas tumble from your lips. “even though you look a damn treat,” she adds lowly, confirmed she’s playing out a long-lived fantasy from the depths of her mind.

as your hips rock against nothing but the warmth of her breath, nayeon removes a hand from your thigh—she only needs one to keep you pinned to the mattress—and withdraws her phone from her jean pocket. “you know, we haven’t added to our little portfolio in a while, honey. what do you say?” she husks.

that portfolio. your dirty little secret. nayeon can work a camera lens as masterfully as she can work her fingers and tongue, if the gory polaroids of her victims in the newspaper was proof of anything. she had a penchant for immortalising your rapture-ridden body in the forms of picture and film. a not-so-guilty pleasure of hers, for her eyes only.

nayeon made it clear on your first ‘set’ together that your face would never appear in frame, not once. if you told her to stop recording, she’d stop. she’d snap her phone in two if you asked, or displayed the first sign of regret. and if anyone managed to pry their way into her phone and find your hidden tapes, she promised to gouge out their eyes with her bare hands, saw off their tongue, break every bone in their damn body—

oh, god, her lips are on your thigh, her unoccupied hand applying a pressure to your pelvis that shouldn’t feel as fucking good as it does. you breathe out a pitchy whine, feeling yourself drip onto the bedding.

nayeon smirks knowingly. “you’re so pretty like this… one little video, and i’ve got this image forever. you can go back to being my spoilt little princess, just like you want.” the marionette strings are within her grasp. she knows just what to say to make an offer irresistible.

breathlessly, you nod, praying for the bittersweet torture to end. “whatever you want, nay. i need you, please,” you whimper, weakly reaching for the hand just above your mons.

“you can say no, sweetheart,” she reassures softly. nefarious as she is, she wouldn’t want anything but your enthusiastic consent.

a question eats away at your heart. morally dubious, but plaguing in its intrigue. an answer would cement your agreeance to her proposal. “do you watch them back after you film me?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

she chuckles briefly, sinisterly, as if replaying a delightful scene in her mind. “stakeouts can get real lonely. sometimes i need a reminder of what’s waiting for me,” she confesses without a modicum of shame.

the notion of your lover camping out of sight, only half paying attention to her prey in favor of watching you shake and unravel in one of your homemade videos, just to tide her over until she can get her next dose of you... your mind blanks, briefly forgetting about the ache between your thighs in dire need of soothing. that’s a new level of transgression you couldn’t prepare yourself for.

“i want to,” you blurt out without further pondering.

“that’s my girl,” she grins. nayeon pushes up, unlocking her phone, reaching for a pillow to support it by your side. a clothed knee finds purchase between your legs; to destroy your mind further or to gently appease the ache, you’ll never know. using the front-facing camera, she positions her phone so that your body from the chest down is in shot.

satisfied with the angle, she gently taps the red record button, biting her lip at the anticipative rising and falling of your chest, nipples pebbled with arousal through your bra. “beautiful,” she mutters under her breath, pressing a hot kiss to your sternum on her descent towards your core.

“don’t you worry about the sound not picking up, sugar,” she grins, folding your thighs in on yourself for easier access to your cunt. her thumbs spread you apart for her, out of shot, but her eyes are the most important recipient to the way you shudder at the rough handling. without warning, she spits on your pussy, ripping a gasp from your lips, one that swiftly bleeds into a mewl as she runs her tongue along your folds.

her eyes meet yours, glinting wickedly.

“i’m gonna make you fucking scream.”

for the anon that requested this to be reposted. i remember writing this while watching ncis.

#kpop x reader #kpop imagines #twice x reader #twice imagines #twice nayeon x reader #twice nayeon imagines #im nayeon x reader #im nayeon imagines #nayeon x reader #nayeon imagines #girl group imagines #gxg imagines #kpop #twice #twice nayeon #im nayeon #nayeon #girl group #gxg

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dadsperm · 11 months

Text

𝐁𝐢𝐠 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 18+ only... no minors please... ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

big brother!seishiro nagi x f!reader x reo mikage

1288 words. f!reader

content warnings: incest (full) - dubcon - threesome - fingering - praise - good girl - slight cucking - power dynamics - slight edging

all characters aged up btw

"You're a pretty sick guy, Nagi, you know that?" Reo laughed idly as he watched your big brother towering above your frightened form. Your eyes moved between the two older men in front of you, unable to believe what was about to happen.

You've always had a thing for Reo. He's cute, he's rich, and the way he's looking to devour you in this moment makes your heart race. Your eyes are fixated on him as the hair he's consistently attempting to keep tucked behind his ear keeps falling in front of his eyes.

A gasp leaves you as Nagi pinches your cheeks and forces you to look at him. His brown eyes staring daggers into your, it's like he's examining how you could even have the audacity to look at a man who isn't him.

"She's my little sister. I'm meant to protect her, isn't that right?" he speaks without shifting his gaze for even a second. You nod, obediently, earning a smile from him. "It's my job to look after you... so I think it's my right to break in your little pussy."

"M-My pussy?" you stutter. You gasp once again as he forces your legs to spread. He flips up your skirt and presses your chest hard enough that your back connects with his unmade bed. You shudder as you feel a slender finger run up the line of your slit. Your soaking panties become stickier with each second his digit is pressed against you.

"Yeah... pretty pussy, baby. Virgins always get wet so easily... 'n your even wetter because you're excited for your nii-san to fuck you. Mmm..." he groans, still teasing your panty-clad folds as he begins to palm at his cock.

You whimper, and he catches the way you glance at Reo like he's your saviour. Like you're begging him to understand you've never done this before, let alone with your brother, and you're oh so worried. Nagi moves the gusset of your panties into the crease of your thigh, baring your petalled flesh to himself and Reo.

"Woah..." Reo speaks. He turns into a blushing mess as he can't tear himself away from the sight between your legs.

"Never seen a cunt before, Reo?" Nagi asks, a single finger circling your sticky clit before he ease it into your tight heat. "Don't tell me you're a virgin, too." he laughs, shallowly.

Reo clears his throat, his eyes finding yours as he searches for your reactions to the pleasure like an addict. The way your face winces at the single finger intrusion couldn't have ended in any other result besides from him being rock hard. His cock straining against his jeans. He's losing his resolve, knowing he'll need to touch himself soon to alleviate the tension.

"No, I- I have- just never seen one that pretty..." he explains.

His response results in Nagi donning a fake pout, before laughing once more.

"You hear that, baby? Prettiest pussy Reo's ever seen... shit, I have to agree." he explains. He wastes no time forcing a second finger inside of you, pumping and scissoring them inside of you to stretch you out. "I'm gonna make you cum nice 'n hard, like a good big brother should. Because your nii-san has a big cock, y'know? It'll be easier to take after you cum."

"I- I-" you speak, a few tears rolling down your face as you try and find the words to say through the concotion of blinding pleasure with an agonising sting.

"Mm... you always look so pretty when you cry."

"Don't think we should be doin' this... Sei... i-it's wrong..." you sniffle, knuckles turning white as you grip onto the bedsheets beneath.

All he can do is tut as he watches you take his fingers like such a good girl. He curls them against your sweet spot, forcing you to throw your head back. He uses his free hand to swipe his fingers over your clit, and at the same time Reo has finally freed himself from his confines. His cock in his hand as he cant resist but to pleasure himself as you fight with the morality of being pleasured by your brother.

"This is exactly what little sisters are made for, sweetheart." Nagi assures you. "Made for nii-san's to fill up like good little girls. You're mine. 'N if you're a really good girl, you'll let nii-san and his friends touch you and fuck you whenever we want."

"Mmpf..." Reo moans, stroking himself up to a climax. Hearing the way Nagi speaks to you like you're nothing more than a plaything seems to be a sexual awakening for Reo.

As beautiful as you are, as gorgeous as your moans are, as pretty as your pussy is.

You're just Nagi's property.

"A-Am I a good girl? A good sister... f'you?" you ask him with pleading eyes.

He smirks, fingering you more as your tears continue to flow.

"Do you want to be? Wanna be our good girl?" he asks, his head tilting in Reo's direction to include him in the conversation. "Do you think what nii-san is doing is wrong? Or do you want to cum all over his fingers?"

"I think she wants to cum." Reo intervenes.

"I think so too. I think my sweet, baby sister wanted to sound like a good girl by saying this is wrong. But you're so close, aren't you? Naughty girl about to make a mess of her brothers fingers."

"N-No..." you sniffle. "Wanna be good... please." you sob, voice sticking in your throat as you can't bear to say anymore.

"The only good thing you can do right now is what we tell you. So, go on... cum all over nii-san's fingers."

And with that final, strict command, your hips are rolling against his fingers as you try to chase your high. You can't believe this is happening. The absolute astonishing pleasure you're becoming dizzy over due to your big brothers ministrations. All the while your crush is watching with so much lust in his eyes, you think he might cum along with you. His face is becoming sweatier, his fist turning to a blur as he works himself faster.

"I- I love you!" you call out, pearlescent cream coating Nagi's fingers as you continue to experience bliss. His fingers don't stop, and your words are just more encouragement to drag every last aftershock out of you.

You aren't even sure who you were talking to in that moment. To Reo? Your brother? Hell, it might have even just been the feeling of cumming. After it's all said and done, and Nagi still won't give you a moment of reprieve, you can't help but stare at Reo once again. You want to see him cum, you aren't sure why, you just feel that it might be close to art when he does.

"Stop it." Nagi commands as he looks over to Reo.

"C-Can't..." Reo explains, his fist still going as he stares at you. He's chasing the feeling you've just experienced, he wants to be in that blissful release with you. He can't stop... he can't... he-

Nagi grabs his wrist and moves his hand away.

"I invited you hear to enjoy my sister's pretty pussy. Have some respect for her. You can jerk yourself off any time, if you blow this opportunity, I won't be kind enough to let you have another."

Reo grunts practically choking out sobs as he's had his ecstacy robbed from him. He takes a few deep breaths, looking at you briefly before looking at Nagi again. He nods, agreeing with his words, the pair of them looking at you again.

"Alright, sweet girl. Nii-san's going to fuck you now."

©𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐌

#nagi seishiro x reader #reo mikage x reader #blue lock x reader #mikage reo x reader #seishiro nagi #reo mikage #nagi x reader #reo x reader #nagi seishiro #mikage reo #bllk x reader #reader insert #tw: inc*st #tw cucking #tw praise #tw power dynamics #tw edging

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mistypsych · 11 months

Text

ANATOMY OF A CRIMINAL - CHAPTER 2

/ yoongi / suga / agust d /

summary: as a doctor you never expected to be dragged into “the criminal life”, nothing and no one seems to be true anymore, your whole world turns upside down after you save him.

pairings: yoongi mob boss x f.reader x non idol bts members.

warnings: smut, guns, knives, stabbings, blood, gore, murders, drugs, criminals, gang life, medical emergency, illness, abuse, swearing, angst, dubcon, gang violence, corruption, manipulation, lies, cheating - 18+ minors dni.

Note: Hi! This is an attempt of writing a fanfic long after writing anything at all. Please also keep in mind English is no longer my first language and it might be a bit rusty and odd at times but I try my best. The story is a non idol BTS fanfic with Suga being the main character. The first chapters might not have a lot of Yoongi but I want the backstory to be clear. I want the story to be complex. The next chapters there will have way more of him I promise! If you want to be on the tag list let me know!

“Namjoon stop it! She needs a clear head. You can’t be freaking her out with a gun!” your friend tried to reason but was just laughed at and all you heard was “Do your thing doc… or else…”. As you turned to the one you were supposed to save, you heard footsteps as more men entered the room.

You looked to the ceiling closing your eyes, realizing you are surrounded by some sort of gang members and the one bleeding out to death must be the head of the whole harpy. At this point there was no backing out, you clearly had no choice but to try and save him. You pushed away the hair from his forehead to try and feel out his temperature. He was clearly burning up. Next stage was getting cold from all the blood loss. Laying there he really didn’t look like someone who would run a gang. His features and frame seemed outright delicate.

You shook your head and pushed away the intrusive thoughts. Focus. You had to gain focus or else you would fail miserably, what also meant not walking out of there alive. Grabbing your bag you gave the men a side eye and huffed to yourself “Well you probably just decided on a death sentence for him…”.

As much as you knew how good you were, you also knew the conditions were far from ideal or even good. If it were a surgical room you would feel way more at ease and confident in pulling this off. Standing in a dark room with a patient on some rusty table made you think you landed in a war zone and it was this option or nothing at all. Hell at war you would consider this type of conditions amazing.

You started prepping yourself taking out the octenisept and iodine to disinfect as much space as possible.You put on a mask on and cloaked your hair with a cap. Throwing your sterile gloves on you took one last look at the black haired man. You could at least try and be professional about the whole situation. You had to succeed. Your life literally depended on it.

Minutes of helpless trials to grab and shut off all the bleeding vessel passed faster than a blink of an eye. You were starting to sweat and unlike yourself panic a little bit. The room was starting to feel hot and claustrophobic. This whole thing was utterly fucked up. You had to bring yourself back. Messing up was not an option.

Blood was pumping threw your body with speed that seemed to be at hundreds miles per hour. The dizziness that came from all the adrenalin was slowly creeping up your brain. Your heart tried to climb out threw your now completely dry throat. You still couldn’t fathom how in the world you turned out to be naive and blind enough to find yourself in this damn situation.

The fact that the person who dragged you into all of this was standing petrified and held at gunpoint, was not making it any easier. The tall and well built male whom others referred to as Namjoon was staring you down while holding his silver piece close to Jungkooks head. “You better not try some bullshit bitch!” he snarled angrily. His gaze was locked onto your back. You could swear you felt the heat of his eyes burning threw your skin.

You were sweaty, your hair was messy and stuck to your forehead. While elbows deep in blood you tried to stop the hemorrhaging. The long haired male laying in front of you with horrific wounds was getting paler by the minute.

“He needs a fucking hospital!” you wanted to reason with them again, a hoarse scream flew out of your lips while you were desperately trying to stop the blood. At this point you felt it was almost overflowing the whole abdominal cavity.

The brunette moved up and took his gun away from your colleges head just to put it to your temple. The coldness of the metal sent a shiver down your spine. You swallowed the dry ball forming in your mouth. You were slowly out of ideas. In your mind you knew the young man should be on an operating table with blood bags hanging already. “I said no fucking hospitals!” the roared words snapped you back to reality and pierced threw you like an arrow.

As much as you wanted to rip Kooks stupid head right off his shoulders for dragging you here, you knew you had to focus on the task. You closed your eyes trying to forget about the cold sting coming from the weapon that was painfully pushed against your scull.

Exhaling threw your nose loudly you suddenly thought of something. It was brutal but you had to try. “Get me salt!” you finally spat out. “Are you fucking crazy?!” one of the men standing at the door growled. He was shorter and of a lighter built but still had something about him that made your skin crawl. All of them made you feel extremely uneasy and wonder if you were gonna die even if you end up saving their main man. You saw them. You knew their faces and location. Were they really gonna let you walk out of this breathing?

Looking into the still not moving gangsters misty eyes you gritted your teeth. “I SAID GET ME SOME DAMN SALT YOU FUCKING IDIOTS!” the words shot out of your mouth faster then you could think them threw. Luckily the insult only got them to move and fetch what you wanted. In a different situation you could imagine such talkback would only earn you a proper wack to the head.

Jungkook looked at you with worried eyes. He was trembling a bit knowing what you were planning on doing. He heard some stories about this so called “last hope” method. It was mainly used at the military when doctors were out of supplies and tools. He knew you were always fascinated by medical work in the army. Still he prayed that you had at least the slightest idea about what you were doing and were aware of all the possible outcomes.

Of course you weighed your options. This approach was not something you would do while at the hospital but given your situation you had little to no choice. You could let this shady dude die and have your life taken with him or you could try and use a risky method.

Taking the pack of salt in your surprisingly steady hands you looked at the full of lesions and oozing abdomen. Taking a deep breath you tossed the powder.

Everyone in the room except for your coworker looked in utter shock and went silent for a while. Then a “The fuck you think you are doing?!” was let out in a high pitched note by someone.

You barely made out the next obscenities that were being thrown around by the now very anxious group of criminals. You steered yourself into your work zone. Staring at the cavity you already knew you dealt your cards well. The blood finally stopped flooding in and you could now start looking for all the torn vessels and start stitching them up.

Once more you closed your eyes, moved your head to both sides. The motion let out a loud crack and gave a little relief to your aching neck. Grabbing the suturing kit from the medical bag you began to work your magic.

Being a highly well trained trauma surgeon made you capable of working fast and efficiently under hefty amounts of stress. But no training at the hospital could prepare you for being trapped in a hellhole stitching up some shady persona while being held at gunpoint.

After what seemed like ages you were finally done and your patient was by some miracle still alive. You looked at the floor around the table. It was covered in blood that was now becoming sticky. “This fucker is unkillable…” you thought to yourself. The amount of vital fluids he lost made you wonder how in the hell he still had a pulse.

You took your gloves off and threw them to the ground not giving one shit about good ethics. You did what they wanted. Cleanup was their problem and you sure as hell did not care that your actions added to the mess. Your cap and mask landed on the floor as well. You felt filthy an nauseous and had no idea what time it was but you were sure it had to already be close to morning.

The seriousness of the situation hit you brutally like a wave in the ocean. You didn’t even want to look at the gangsters or Kook. You felt completely blindsided by him. You were praying that you got to live and walk out of there. After that you would plan your perfect revenge on Jungkook, in all honesty you were even considering murder.

“Well… well… you actually managed to pull this off.” Namjoon said leaning over his boss and looking at you. “You saved the life of August D you know?” he continued as if it was supposed mean something. Being so done with everything at this point, you simply could not hold back anymore “Do I look like I give a fuck? All I want is to get out of this pit!” In response he just looked at you with an amused smile.

“Joon… we had a deal.” Kook said in a quiet voice looking a bit anxious. The tall man laughed “You of all people should not be telling me of our deals… this was the least you could do but of course you get to leave” he bowed his head.

That was your queue to run the hell out of there. They sure as fuck did not need to repeat themselves. Quickly grabbing your bag you made way to the exit. You did not care if you had to run back home on foot or try to call and wake up Hoseok, crying to pick up your naive ass.

You almost left the room when you heard “See you on the checkup doc!” this Namjoon character was sure having a blast with taunting you. Not bothering to answer you ran outside. Of course you did not plan on coming back. You were gonna get them busted and taken care of by the authorities.

Suddenly you felt a hand grab your shoulder. Your instincts taking over made you try to hit whoever dared touch you. Jungkook grabbed your fist before it made contact with his face. “Easy Y/N! It’s just me!”. You stared at him with big eyes, your mouth open from the utter shock and then just like that, you lost it.

You completely lost it. “JUST YOU?! Just you?! You fucking asshole! You could have had me killed! Do you understand?! Does your peanut brain comprehend what a fucking dick move you pulled on me?! Fuck you! Really fuck you!” your voice was deep and hoarse from all the stress of the evening. If not for the fact that you usually knew how to keep your composure, the man standing in front of you would surely be dead.

He sighed running his hand threw his hair. His eyes were darting all over the place, just to not meet yours. “I will explain to you everything on the way home Y/N…” a hysterical and sinister laugh left your lips. You even threw your head back because of how crazy this all was. “You motherfucker think I am gonna get in a car with you? After your little stunt? Wow you really are dumb aren’t you?” usually you did not like to use insults but given the situation you decided he had it coming the moment he put you in that hellhole.

He looked at you dumbfounded and surprised. Never did he get to see this side of you. “I am calling Hobi and telling him everything and this little shit show is gonna close up soon!” you said walking forward and taking out your phone.

Kookie ran after you grabbing your hand and taking your cell. His stare was serious. “Y/N! You can’t… August D… he… he owns the police department. He has them in his pocket. You think if it wasn’t the case I would not call on them long ago?”. You look at him. You try to analyze how much bullshit he is trying to sell you. But something in his eyes made you understand that was not the case and that things are way beyond complicated.

You shake your head and say “Whatever… I’ll tell Hobi.” you shrug and then see your friends face. A face telling you that it would not be a good idea to do so. “It wouldn’t change anything Y/N… He OWNES them… all of them. He basically runs the city. Trust me he is no little gangster and this shit goes deeper than the ocean…” You could not believe what was happening. You wanted to laugh and tell Jungkook he is full of it and a lying scum but his whole demeanor showed that he was being dead serious. You felt heat rush up your body. Your legs shook and threatened to give in. Looking at your colleague you whispered “Tell me what the fuck is going on…”.

* * * * * * * * *

Jungkook drove slowly and took you away from the dangerous city outskirts. He stopped at a gas station and drove into its parking lot. Turning off the engine he looked worried. You were staring straight ahead, trying to work threw the huge anxiety that was threatening to completely take over. He rubbed his face and let out a quiet groan. His eyes were glassy and you could see the guilt that consumed him.

“Explain…” you said. Your voice was washed out of any emotion. You were at the breaking point and needed to understand what was going on or you would lose your shit completely.

Kook turned to face you, trying to figure out where he should start at. He knew you may seem calm from the outside but he was sure on the inside you had to feel as the world was on fire. “I owe Yoongi money…” he blurted out word by word. “Yoongi?” you asked still not looking his way. “That is Agusts D’s real name… Min Yoongi. I owe him.” he continued. You shook your head in disbelief, of course it was about cash. “For what? Drugs? Were you an addict or something?” you finally turned to him, your gaze gloomy.

He grimaced at your words. It seemed as tho they have hurt him. “No Y/N I don’t owe him for that. I was from a very poor family. I wanted to educate myself. Be someone. Make a living, help myself and my family out… pay all their loans…” you could hear the sadness and abashment in his voice. You actually felt a bit unfair for jumping into conclusions so quickly. But what were you to think after seeing all that shady business?

“I heard about his father and the gang around the streets… when I was about to go to collage. Let’s just say I did not live in the nicest of areas…” he looked threw the window, pressing himself into the seat a bit deeper. “My parents could not afford to put me threw all the tutoring and shit needed to make it to med school… and then I earned a scholarship during my fist year of studies, that allowed me go to USA. In that time Yoongis dad was murdered together with most of the old group. Needles to say the son took over the father and that of course ment my debts didn’t go away…”

You blew the air out of your lungs loudly and asked “How much do you owe them? Maybe I can pitch in… get you out of this…” he just laughed strangely at your proposition. “That’s sweet Y/N. I don’t deserve you as a friend. The thing is with August D it isn’t about money. He found out what I was doing with the loan so he made sure I end up his gangs doctor, that is why I am a gp… if not for this shit I always wanted to specialize in ortho…” he shook his head while letting his shoulders slouch being well aware what situation he was in. “I paid off all my parents bank loans… got them an apartment but the price is that he owns me in a way…” he looked at you with sorry eyes.

“Shit Kook… why didn’t you say anything? Maybe we could have had planned something to get you out? You know who my fiancé is… maybe he can…” you stopped mid sentence remembering what your friend said before - he owns them all, ha has them in his pocket. His face turned pale. Nervousness spilled all over him. He didn’t want to have this discussion. Unraveling all of this was never his intention. You did not deserve this.

“Is Hoseok involved with them…? Did you ever see him there?” you questioned and snapped him back to reality. “I never saw him Y/N but I heard them talk about him and his partner. They were setting up meetings. You remember that murder case in Guro that was all over the news?” you nodded your head “Yea… Hobi was leading it. He said there was some sort of gang dealing.”

Your friend looked at you with a serious face. He tried to check if you followed what he was trying to say “Yea… it was Agust D’s people that took out the guys who tried to go around his back and push drugs on not their turf. The police is well aware who killed those people Y/N and they together with your fiancé took hush money…”

You stared at him. You wanted to smack his face for making such accusations about Hobi. He did not see it happen. Who knows what he even heard. How dare him say such things.

As if reading your mind he said “Yes I did not see him but before you tell him anything about this night make sure to test the waters Y/N. Trust me you are gonna find out they are murky as fuck. Hoseok is dirty like all of the police. It all goes far back…”

“Well if that is the case then why the hell are you telling me this just now?! What kind of friend are you supposed to be? Why would you sit on this information?!” you yelled at him and hit the dashboard with all your strength causing Kookie to flinch and jump up a bit.

“I didn’t say anything because yea he is a dirty cop but it doesn’t mean he don’t love you or is otherwise a bad person. Life is not always black and white Y/N. Plus I never thought we would be in this mess. I never thought I’d drag you into this but here we fucking are and I just don’t want you to get into more trouble then I already put you in. So I beg you, please try and feel out the situation before you tell Hoseok about any of this. Please…” the worry and desperation in his voice had you realize he really believed the man you lived with was entangled with those criminals.

Sighing you agreed not to make quick decisions without finding out the details. “Does this mean I have to see those thugs again?” your voice got shaky from all the anxiety that was trying to get to the surface and take over your body. Kookie shook his head quickly “Nah. Namjoon was just tormenting you. I can handle it from here. What I could not manage was those wounds. They don’t teach you how to handle that level as a gp. Simple wounds and general post op care? Yea… So don’t worry. They will forget you exist very soon” you looked to the floor slowly feeling a bit relieved but also very tired.

“I am sorry for putting you on the spot like that Y/N. I did not know who else to turn to and if I wouldn’t have handled the situation or at least try, then they would go after my family. That doesn’t mean what I did was right and that I don’t I regret it. I’ve let fear take over and made a bad decision. I am truly sorry. You have always been nothing but a good friend to me and I fucked it up…” he did not dare look at you. He in all honesty feared of losing one of the best people in his life.

“Yea that was a dick move Koo and it will take me some time to recover from, but at least now I understand. I can’t say I would make better choices in your situation so I would be a hypocrite to cut you off from my life completely. Just know this… if I ever deal with some gang bangers you are the first I will throw into the pit with them” a small smile crept over your lips. As much as you were angry and disappointed you did not hate him and you didn’t want to give up your friendship.

A sigh of relief flew out of his mouth. He needed to hear that from you. He needed to know not all was a lost cause. Now was time to focus on fixing the trust he has broken. “Oh and also don’t expect me to help out with charity work tomorrow. You are on that boat alone. I am too tired and my mind is utter chaos. I would not be of any use.” He blinked fast and said “Of course understandable! Also i think you meant today, it is already 3:00 a.m. So let’s get you home.”

You nodded, you had no idea it was already next morning. Home. Home was just what you needed right now. A long hot bath to wash away all the stench and filth of that dreadful place. A glass of wine to blur out the memories. The only problem was that home also meant Hoseok and you were starting get that pinging feeling in the back of your head that you were in for a fucking ride.

Tag list: @wobblewobble822 @nansasa @danielle143 @kooslilhoe @yoongisducky @xjiminsthighsx @kootieful @nochook

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floredaqueen · 5 months

Text

💋Besos Castos💋

Part 2 to Curiosity at First Sight!

Billy Hargrove X Isabela Wheeler (OC)

Strangers - Friends - Lovers

♡

⚠️WARNING(S)⚠️: Suggestive Writing, Cursing, Bad/Graphic Writing, Billy Hargrove being Billy Hargrove, 18+ MINORS DNI, Mentions of Sexual Activities, Sexual Inuendos, I'm not good at writing :>

♡

...

It was a normal rest of the week... that is if Isabela could count the unsettling feeling of a specific pair of ocean blue eyes boring into her soul every time she sat in Algebra class normal. Those gorgeous blue hues belonged to the new guy, Billy Hargrove. So far, he was already stealing Steve Harrington's spot as the King... whatever that was supposed to mean. Guys wanted to be him. He was inching closer and closer to the team captain spot on the basketball team. Girls wanted to be with him, and Isa could see why.. she kind of did, too. The way Hargrove would smile mischievously at the other girls against their lockers, hover over them while speaking a soft whisper of all the things he could do to them. Not only that, but he was already making out with a few in the halls.

Isabela would catch herself gazing sometimes, watching the pretty boy's cheeky smile persist as he talked up the girls who fancied him. Her doe brown eyes would also glance at the hungry kisses he'd give them, forcing herself to put the thought of it being her his hands gripped around while their lips locked in the far back of her mind. Although, she couldn't stop picturing the images of him taking their breath away, shoving his tongue in their mouth, and even his lips sloppily trailing to their jaw and neck. It was a sight to see.. like two wild animals in their natural habitat. Still, Isa kept herself focused and mostly unbothered. The more she did that, the easier it was to avoid him.. until Calculus. They had two classes with one another, but she would always hide behind the bleachers. The guys were out and playing basketball. Other than that, math was the only time she was caught out like a deer in the headlights.

As the week passed, the Guatemalan girl found a rhythm, coming to school, finding time for her friends and academics while also completely avoiding any eye contact with the dirty blonde whore she sat next to 2 times a day. In those 45 to 50 minutes, Hargrove takes his sweet time trying to get her to notice him. The first time, he just tapped on her shoulder. Isa would look over to the side, her eyes finding his blinding smile and wandering eyes. Although, when he tried to introduce himself, she had already turned back around, flipping her hair right behind her before tuning in to the daily math lesson. This would persist for the rest of the week. He'd keep tapping her shoulder, pull her chair back against his own desk, and his tight grip would even find its way to her dark brown locks only to pull at them, not a second later. And every time, she'd look back at him with a look. Irritated, annoyed, and/or pissed. It was one of those, but Billy couldn't tell which one.. he didn't care either. To him, any attention was good attention from her, just to see her pretty face turn to him, to see her nose scrunch up when she got upset, or even see her flip the bird to him. She was feisty as hell, and that made him want to keep chasing...

Then she'd flee. She felt stupid for her behavior sometimes, wanting to give him a chance. At the same time, something could go wrong. She'd overhear talk about the relationships her friends would have and how if the guy was too pretty, he'd be unattainable, especially in high school. The guy would hop from girl to girl. While she was tempted to be one of those girls, the timid girl was looking for something a lot more long-lasting. So every time, the adopted Wheeler would turn away or pretend like she didn't hear him whenever Billy tried to make any advances.

Today, though, was different.

Isa was jotting down notes on the board, putting them in a particular neat way before she felt a tap on her shoulder. I'm routine, the Latina looked to the side she was tapped on, annoyed, meeting eyes with the new infamous pretty boy. As her doe eyes did their best to keep steady one his, Billy's oscar winning smile appeared while taking in her features thoughtfully. God, was she cute. With the way she presented herself, she must know it. It was a few seconds before he began.

"Hey, do you understand this question?" He asked, leaning over to her to point to the 5th question on their worksheet. When he did, she got a whiff of his cologne, her cheeks tiniting a soft pink because he smelled of a fresh ocean breeze.. and a new car? It was soothing apart from the hint of a cigarette smell around. She examined the specific equation, scooting closer to him in habit when helping others. In turn, his eyes focused on her concentration. Considering she had already finished her own assignment, Billy had an inkling that Isabela was good at this type of work. Her eyes glanced up to meet his again, only for her to blink away as she spoke.

"You have to use the unit circle method before using the other formula to find the final equation," the studious girl explained, tapping her pencil nervously to the glossy wooden finish of her desk.

"Okay.. how do I do the unit thing again?" Billy's question had Isa's right eye twitching. He really wasn't listening in class, which was super annoying, considering it was only causing confusion. Shaking her head, Isa pulled out a fresh piece of notebook paper. Billy watched slightly disoriended as the quiet girl began doodling a quick "how to" on the notebook paper and handing it to him. For once, he understood what he was doing in this shitty class. Isa cut it down into pieces for him on this piece of paper, and so he continued to use her formula before handing his own worksheet to her. She checked it, nodded to him and handed it back.

It was a simple interaction. Something she was personally proud she got through without anything going south. Soon enough, the bell rang throughout the school, the young woman grabbing her bag and confidently leaving the classroom as quick as she usually did. He was contemplating running after her, but instead walked up to the group of guys that seemed to follow him into almost every party he's crashedso far. He listened for a bit, leaning up against the lockers before his eyes settled on a certain girl with long chestnut hair. Soon the conversation he was listening to was muffled as he not-so-secretly peered at Isa while she gathered her things for her next class.

"What do you guys know about, that girl over there?" Billy pointed to her, Tommy looking over at Isa before a smirk came to his face.

"Oh, Isa? I think she's like Mexican or something like that- She's super hot, but she's a nerd.She doesn't even talk much, at least not to guys. Nancy, Nova, Chrissy, Chelsea, and Rex are the only people she talks to in and outside of school." Tommy explains, Hargrove listening while his vision was glued to the girl they were speaking about. He had half the mind to ask him why the hell he knew so much about her, but he didn't. Soon, Nancy and Nova walked up to the hispanic scholar, watching her lips move while trying to make out why they were saying. Soon enough, his focus is on Nancy and her when he turned back to Hagan.

"Isn't she a Wheeler?" Billy asks, crossing his arms as he gets more comfortable against the metal doors behind him.

"She's adopted. A total charity case.. 'though it definitely wasn't a bad idea," Tommy's eyes followed Isa's polyester clad ass as she shut the door and walked off. She could feel the eyes, the heat of embarrassment rushing to her face and causing her to walk faster. Billy found himself mindlessly watching her hips sway back and forth, her foreign curves excentuated in her form-fitting pink tee and colorful maxi skirt. He wasn't even a foot guy, but he couldn't help by appreciate the way her sandals made them look even more dainty and smooth. There was a word for someone like her that the new king couldn't quite figure out yet.

♡

The next day after Calculus, Isa was once again at her locker, it being a routine at this point. Her right hand reached into the small metal compartment to reach one of her notebooks. As Isabela turned to peak into her bag, she was startled, Billy Hargrove standing in the only space she had. She jumped and groaned in annoyance at his quiet stature. He was hovering, Isabela eyes struggling to stay steady on his.

"What do you want, Billy?!" The timid girl pressed herself against the lockers away from him. She assumed he came over here to ask her something. Whatever it was, she was intent on saying n-

"Can you tutor me in Calculus?" He asked, his confident demeanor at a low simmer as he asked. She hesitated, curling inside herself more but standing her ground.

"Why should I..?" Isa's left eyebrow raised, and the nervous girl blinked a few times so her face wouldn't heat up.

"C'mon, it'll only be a couple of times," He continued, watching as the shy girl barely kept her cool. He could tell he was getting under her skin. His hands subconsciously hovered over those voluptuous hips of hers but settled on his own instead. One of his hands rested itself on the metal beside her head, completely trapping her.

"Hell, you know I need the extra help,"Once she shook her head, he rolled his eyes, and a groan escaped him that Isa's spine shiver. Her head turned away, a soft pout coming to her cute face.. then his face got really close, feeling the slight heat of his breath against her ear. That seemed to have no problem heating her up, the Guatemalan going as far back in her shell as she could, but it wasn't working. Hargrove already got Isa where he wanted her.

"Pleeease~?" He pleaded hotly, his voice entering a lower register as that stupid smirk of his curling on his lips as his blue hues longed on her ever blushing cheeks. If she had the right mind to push him away and flee, she would, but at the moment, she was considering it. She didn't mind helping him with his education.. and God was he handsome. Handsome enough to have you mentally laying out the pros and cons of the situation. Pro: You had the upper hand on where to hold the study session. Con: It had to be public, or he'd most likely start aggressively flirting. Pro: She'd tell him her rules of tutoring, hoping he would abide by them. Con: He wouldn't do that at all.

"...I'll think about it," Isa muttered in that voice she'd use sometimes when she wasn't sure about something. The Latina girl would turn back to her locker, only to shut it quickly before booking it to her next class. It was English, so she had finished her work fairly early, which gave her more time to think about it. Another pro: it could be fun. Another con: he might not even pay attention to her because he's just interested in getting into her pants. Another pro: she could actually help him learn something important, and maybe he'd feel more confident in his academic abilities. Another con: He'd get bored with her and leave. Another pro: Maybe they could have fun, and she'd be able to see that smile on his face again. She kept tally on a loose sheet of notebook paper, coming up with more pros than cons.. albeit as biased as they were.

♡

Later that day, Isabela made up her mind, forcefully dragging herself over to a table a group of boys sat at during lunch time. There, Billy sat, stuffing his face with fries and whatever else was on his tray. That was the first time she's ever seen him eat. It was good to know that he did. She wasn't sure, considering all she saw was him putting a cigarette to his lips.

"Hargrove!" The smart girl called out to him, his head sharply rising to see her eyes nervously meeting his. Once she was close enough, she handed him a sticky note. It had the address of the Wheeler residence on it, her eyes looking away from his when he looked back at her.

"My house at five-thirty. Don't forget!" Billy's grin appeared, his eyes half lidded as he chewed on a couple of seasoned sweet potato fries. He shrugged, then nodded. Isa nodded in return, wanting to leave as quickly as she got there.

"Bye," Isa trailed off as she turned away, almost leaving skid marks behind with how quick she was walking. It had the pretty blonde smiling hard, his boy's casually cheering and egging him on while his eyes remained on her until she was no longer in his vision. For the rest of the day, Billy's mind was clouded with thoughts of Isabela, so much so that he stopped a sloppy, hot make-out session with Tina Kingston mid way just so he wouldn't be late for their tutoring session.

Tina was one of the hottest girls in school, aside from Rebecca, Nova, and Chrissy. Most guys barely had a real chance with them, but with Tina hanging on his trail, Billy couldn't pass up a chance to taste something close to heaven.. Heaven was something Billy believed to be somewhere else, like at the Wheeler's house. It wasn't long 'til Tina was kicked out of his car, her scoffing and cursing being shadowed by the rev of his engine as he drove off. He's never been on time for something in a long time, Isa hearing his loud engine at the end of the road of the parking lot. The foster Wheeler looking at the clock on the wall. It was 4:25 p.m.

Isabela sat out the fruit bowl she made for him five minutes ago onto the dining room table. She rushed herself to the front door, although the scholar waited for him to knock on the door. When he did, she opened the door a few seconds later, greeting him with a nod before leaving the door open only for Billy to shut it once he entered.

"Just put your things on the table and we can get started," She spoke as she went upstairs to grab her own work a clean worksheet she took to work on with him before leaving class.

While she was upstairs, Billy took in the environment. It was warmly lit and smelled like fresh raspberry and sweet cinnamon. It explained why she smelled so good every time he got close to her. It was clean as well, the tiled floor shiny, and the carpet away the couches vacuumed and sprayed down. The pillows on the sofa were neat and the only thing on the round table were two bowls of cut fruit. She made that for him while she waited? Billy sat down, setting his work onto the table along with a pencil before taking a bite of a piece of green apple that was in his bowl. His ears focused on the sound of her coming back down, turning himself in the chair.

"What's up with the fruit?" He asked, just wanting to see what she'd say about it. Isa pouted at the immediate hard time she was having.

"Well, you're eating it, aren't you?" She'd rebuttal, setting her own work down on the table. Already she could tell this was going to be an interesting few hours. She could see the smug look on Billy's face at the corner of her eye.

"I'm not the type to pass up free food. Why'd you make it?"

Isa bit her lip, shrugging as she thought what to say other than 'Because I wanted to make it for you,'. Out of kindness, out of her crush for him, out of he'd notice both, which he definitely could sense. Instead though, what came out of her mouth was,

"Fruit is good brain food.. also, you had lunch at one, so I thought you'd want a snack or something," Isa confessed, sitting down only for her eyes to meet his suggestive ones. His smile was genuine, appreciative of her little gesture to him.

Soon enough, the tutoring started, Isa's were carefully curated as she broke her notes down to the infuriating charming Billy Hargrove. His eyes never looked away from her, except for when he was told to focus on the problem at hand. Her teaching was the most easy-to-understand instructions he's ever had, and she's not even a teacher. Billy had felt relieved to get the material down finally. He was ready to call it quits and fail the class, although Isabela had reminded him that he needed this credit to graduate, and so he was here, studying.. wishing he was doing something else with her that required a bit of a workout.

"How come we can't go up to your room?" He'd ask, Isa snapping towards him in aw. Did he really just ask her that? Did that just come out of his mouth? It did. He was curious about it, usually being able to finesse himself in a girl's bedroom to snoop. He was definitely the type to find himself going through a girl's diary for kicks.

"Because it's my bedroom.." She looked over at him, her statement almost posed as a question. Billy grinned playfully, watching the heat rise up in her cheeks. He scoffed, leaning in to continue his flirtatious ways.

"You afraid I'll find the love letters you made for me?" He'd tease, his irritating smirk persisting as Isa held eye contact with him. She was struggling, though, her eyes wanting to divert back to her homework, she was already done with. While she was done, she still retreated to her finished work, going over her answers while avoiding Billy's goregous, lidded hues.

In time, the sweet hispanic gal once again felt the exasperating presence of the handsome bad boy. Isa felt light traces from the eraser part of his pencil stroking itself up and down her arm. Jesus, can't this guy just concentrate?? The young woman flinched, turning to snatch the wooden graphite piece out of his hand only to huff frustratingly at him a second later.

"Do you need help, Hargrove??" She whined, Billy biting at his pretty bottom lip teasingly in return, his eyes traveling down to her blouse. He noticed something about it as he took his quick peak. She wasn't wearing a bra, her nipples gentle peering out. They weren't big, nor were they small either, but they were perky enough to have dirty blonde horndog's mind racing with thoughts it groping them while whispering sweet nothings to the latina.

"Not with my homework, no," His hand gripped around her face gently, pulling her in while scooting himself closer. Isa feels the heat rush to her cheeks, his digits ribbing into her smooth side.

"Sweetness, the only thing I need is your attention," He cooed to her, her face flaring up more and more as he seemed to get closer and closer. She'd flee again, her heart beating so fast she thought she was gonna pass out. Billy'd whine a bit, leaning over her seat as she anxiously grabbed all of her things.

"Listen.. I-I'm glad I could help you out, but-"

"Isa, wait-" but it was already too late. Isa was already hurrying herself. Once she had made up her mind, she wouldn't turn back.

"But, if you don't need anything else, please leave. Have a good night!" And she takes her stuff and quickly woddles upstairs to her room. Billy sighed, shaking his head while leaning it near the table. He ate the last of what was left in his fruit bowl before taking the hint, grabbing his own things, and heading for the door. He turned back, looking near up the stairs where the pretty girl was hiding... his pretty girl. Sooner or later, that was gonna be her title.

♡

The next day, the popular bad boy was surrounded by his usual crowd. That day, he was sporting his denim jacket with a white tee, which hugged his Adonis physique perfectly. It had girls drooling as he walked by, Tommy H. and Jason Carver on either border of him alongside a few other dudes. While the other boys talked of sex, booze, parties, and basketball, Billy's mind was on something else. His head rang the sound of Isabela's voice, the image of her soft, plump lips, long goregous hair, sweet doe eyes, warm hands, pretty tits--

Although his fantasies were interrupted shortly after he made it to his locker, Tommy asking about something. Billy snapped his view to the asshole, giving him a look of confusion.

"The hell are you on about, Hagan?" He'd question, Carver rolling his eyes.

"We just wanted to know how your 'study session' went?" Carter explained, a smug look on his pale face as he took to question his 'friend's sneaky whereabouts. Billy looked back at him, glad he was able to put his thoughts back on the pretty hispanic scholar who did her best to tutor him.

"It was fine." Billy lied, obviously hiding a whole bunch of details from last night. He decided he'd like to keep what happened to himself.. even though the truth was nothing happened. He scared her away and shoved her back into her well-kept turtle shell. Plus, he enjoyed their speculating. It was entertaining.

"Wait, you had it with Isa, right?" Tommy remembered, looking over to Carter with a little smirk. They both giggled boyishly, Tommy shoving his hands in his pockets while Carter tapped on Hargrove's denim clad shoulder.

"God, I just know she'd look so hot begging," Hagan imagined, sighing like the lover boy he wasn't. Billy was, though, now thinking of the soft peeps that would escape her as he grabbed her every way. Whatever way it was, he was certain it was going to be near her. It was nice thought. The popular boy was soon interrupted once again by his sheep's words, looking back at Carter when he spoke.

"What the hell did you say?" Billy's tone was low and fierce, but calm as if he was ready to strike under any sort of pressure. Unfortunately, Jason didn't pick up on his quick irritation.

"I said, 'How long did it take her to spread her legs?' I gotta know man-" Billy scoffed, that domineering smile coming to his face as her turned to completely face the younger basketball player. He even chuckled a bit, but his anger was boiling under the playful surface that was his own misconception.

"I don't know, Jason. How long would it take for your legs to spread when I shove a pool stick up your ass? How about we find that out, yeah?" The charming smile of Billy's remained on his face for a long moment before he eyes deadpanned and his curved lips flattened. He was dead serious. Jason knew it too as he backed up, his hands raising in a surrendering position.

"Alright, man. Jesus," He backed off real quick, Billy turning back to his locker to grav his things before slamming the metal door and heading towards Isabela's locker.

There she stood, the prideful whore finding the sweet girl at her locker. He noted the cotton thin, long sleeve, cropped pink shirt she was wearing. He also noted those nice jean shorts that looked let they were barely holding on to that ass of hers. Did she work out, or was she just naturally gifted with those curves around her torso and the perfectly quafted muscles on her thighs and lower legs? Soon enough, he was behind her, the hair standing up on the back of her neck as she turned to meet his eyes. She just winced, his face so close to hers, but his eyes diverted to her lips. His expression was eager, yet concentrated as if he was holding himself back.

"God, Billy! You scared me," Isa huffed breathlessly, him seemingly taking in her immediate flustered state as his presence. He chuckled in view of it, a soft pout coming to her pretty face.

"My bad, sweetness. 'Just wanted to know if we're still on for today?" Billy would suggest, Isa rolling her eyes almost immediately at his usual flirtation.

"Don't call me that," She spat before shutting her locker.

"Okay, Sugar–"

"Don't call me that either"

"Whatever floats your boat, Babydol–"

"¡¡Dios mío!! I have a name, y'know! A-And It would do you some good to use it.." And as she turned, he'd meet her halfway, standing in front of her whole turning uo his charm meter ten times as much. It was obvious he wasn't a very serious guy, even when he was trying to be serious.

"Isa, listen, I just need to know if you want to tutor me today..?" Isa knew he wouldn't admit it, but Billy was pleading at this point. It might be small, but he was so used to getting what he wanted. He wasn't one for desperate measures, but he liked her.. a lot. Soon enough, he got to her, Isabela sighing softly before glancing up at Billy again. Gosh, he really was persuasive.

"...Don't be late, okay?" She spoke softly, exchanging her notebooks for her previous class for others. Out the corner of her eye, Isa could see the grin on Billy's pretty face. Even if it was for just a moment, the young woman felt her face heat up a bit. She wasn't used to it, and whether she admitted it or not, Isa couldn't deny the obvious feelings she had for Billy either.

Once again, it was 4:15 I'm the afternoon, and once again, Billy found himself sucking face with some other pretty girl to take his mind off of Isabela. Although he couldn't this time, this time all he could do was picture her . Her big does eyes, her flustered expression whenever he got a rise out of her, how soft her hands were, how tight her shirts were. Even if he couldn't see much, he could see enough. He subconsciously pictured it was her lips he was planting kisses on , and it was her soaking wet core he was plunging himself into.

It took all of five minutes for him to finish, the pretty girl under him moaning with him before giggling. Billy was just panting, pulling himself out and quickly buckling his pants again. Immediately when she began to speak, the popular pretty boy kicked his distraction out, the revv of tuning out her cursing as he drove away. He took a shortcut to make sure he wasn't late, looking around his Camaro to see if he could find his spare cologne to freshen up with.

By the time he knocked on the door, Isa had brought out the strawberry cream cheese she had hid from Mike, as well as the two bagels that were left in the pantry. The timid Latina had just finished cutting one of the apples she had bought yesterday after their session when she heard the doorbell ring. She almost ran to get it, opening it quickly only to be met with the heavily smell of cologne overriding the smell of sex as Billy practically forced himself inside.

Billy himself attempted to ignore that he smelled like a good rutting, sitting himself down at the table with her only for her to get started on her work. Today was easier, Billy finding his way through a couple of mathematical obstacles and even jotting down notes. He'd continue his silent, flirting, stealing glances of the girl beside him. How thick her eye lashes were when she blinked and how defined the curls of her coffee brown locks. He admired her look of determination to understand and comprehend oamrthing she wont ever need in her life.. like ever. Billy continued to gaze at the petite young scholar while she worked and bit on the end of her pencil..

"So how was it..?" Isabela question, her eyes still glued to her paper filled with equations. Billy's expression turned puzzled, his jawline sharpening itself while he slowly raised his perfectly quafted eyebrow.

"How was what?" He slightly scrutinized, her gorgeous, siren blues zooming in on the way she but her cheek.

"The girl you were almost late for. Was she any good? You still smell like her.." Yes, it was obvious! She couldn't help but think about it, the scent of cheap lavender and the thought of him.. getting his rocks off while she was preparing a colorful snack for him. It made her head pound and her stomach turn in.. greed.

Greed for the way he looks at her when she's not looking or when she's looking directly at him. Greed for his hands hovering over her hips before desperately wanting to touch them. Greed for the raunchy flirting, the pleading, the succumbing to his effortless charm, the surrendering to her blatant kindness. Isabela thought what they had was raw and filled with potential.. and he had to throw away with a quick fuck before he even got here.

"And that's any of your business because–"

"Because it would be great if you didn't come in here smelling like a brothel," She'd say roughly, Billy paying it no mind to the Latina's snappy attitude. He only responded with a chuckle and his usual response to a girl getting pissed at his slightly reckless antics.

"It comes with the territory, sweetness." He'd coo, leaning in only for her to get another whiff of wooden apple and hot, sweaty sex. The frustration in her eyes was very telling. All of her skin flushed the more she thought about it. The more she wished she was the one who wrinkled his shirt, and the one to be kissed dumb, and the one to be manhandled with such passion.. but she never wanted it to be once...

...

...But— but she never wanted it to be just once, and she never wanted to be one of Billy's girls. Her hands sweated and her cheeks burned at the thought of being Billy's girl.. Billy's only girl. It was a stretch, a shark jump even, but she was an 18 year old girl with hopes and dreams.. and the hopes and dreams were stubborn and vivid and goddamn delectable.

"Break! We need a break.."

When Isabela had realized her face visibly red, she stood, exhaling hotly before hastily walking around back to the kitchen counter. All the while, she was silently cursing herself, trying to regain focus instead of feeling like she wasn't worthy. She wasn't the one who was supposed to be feeling like that. It was supposed to be the son of a bitch who was sitting at the dining table and gazing knowingly at her. As if Billy knew her feelings, as if he knew what she yearned for. He was just dangling the goddamn carrot in her cute, doe eyed face.. and it hurt.

What Isa didn't know was that Billy did know.. he knew deep down. He knew she wanted to, but he didn't know why he kept stopping herself. He knew she was too good for him, but that never stopped him before. That never stumped his drive to get see it to the end. It wouldn't stop him now either. He stood from his seat, pulling off his denim jack only to show off that goregous Adonis physique Isa knew he loved to show off. It was paying off.

"Need any help?" He'd suggest through that sweet, promising smile that he's shown to her once or twice. It always got her hopes up about him and his motives.. and if he actually liked her. Isabela shook her head, finishing up the slicing and dicing of a green apple in the eighths. Soon, she placed the bagel smeared with hazel nut and cocoa spread with a few apple slices on top and the side of a plastic plate. She handed the plate to him soon after before making her own plate. He stood still though, finding time to make his move while she was distracted by her own thoughts.

Suddenly, his being was behind hers, Billy slightly scoffing at the immediate tense up he could feel from Isa. His hands gently gripped at the skin of her wrists, Isa instinctively stopping her rushed plating, only to feel his smokey breath against her jawline and neck.

"Either you move aside, and let me help, or have to force you back to the table.."

...That.. she wasn't expecting that. She wasn't expecting his want to help or him even pushing himself to do so. Isabela was quick to move, Billy amused as he ogled strutting her cute butt to the other side of the island counter. Her arms crossed against her chest, her cheeks puffed out and her full bottom lip pouted as she frowned. She watched him finish up her plate, even going as far as to place some of the slices strategically on her spread.

"I don't like this" She didn't like it.. she loved it.

"Yeah, yeah.. and your scrutiny is very effective," Billy knew she liked it. He knew she liked being helped, and flirted with, and looked at like she was something.. she was something. That's what Hargrove thought.

"Hurry up. I don't like this.." She turned back to the dining table, feeling the ocean eyes behind her admiring her back side. She mean mugged him in response, getting flustered at his cheeky, and quite frankly charming, response.

. . .

After they had eaten their snack, things started to lighten up. Isabela and Billy had continued their tutor session, the Guatemalan girl giving him notes and suggestions while the pretty boy simultaneously made jokes in return. Isa of course didn't listen to most of them, but she did laugh at one.

She laughed. It was a cute laugh. Squeaky and light, and enough to make the pride in his stomach swell. He leaned in a bit close, his tongue brushing against her teeth.

"Ah, I finally got one outta ya," He'd gloat, slightly kicking himself with how easily he was fawning for that sweet smile. He's never felt like this before.. jesus, he could gawk at the curling of her plump lips anytime of the week.

"Yeah, well don't get used to it.." She huffed, shaking off her laugh and attempting to turn back to her work.

"But your laugh is cute, I should make you laugh more often." Suddenly, it was agonzing to keep eye contact with Billy. He must've known his was pouring a thousand sultry poems into her soul. Her face was burning. She was definitely giving herself away. His smile didn't help either. He got closer.

"There are a lot of things I'd like to make you do.." Her arms crossed again at his mild attempt at seduction.. it was working.

"Like what..?" She questioned, Billy's smirk persisted.

"Oh don't ask me that idea tell ya.. well," their lips are only an inch away from yours.

"How about I show you..?" She could feel the heat from her cheeks, as he moved close, his lips lingering over hers for a moment. Isa attempted to back out..

"Billy, that's not–" He didn't even fathom the thought of listening to her after that, closing the very small gap between them and melting into the whimpers and peeps Isa was giving off. He grunted against her soft lips, feeling her hands grip his thinly clothed bicep and watch ridden wrist. Billy noted that she tasted of peaches and the hazelnut chocolate spread she just had. Billy on the other hand was an "aquired taste", Isa savoring the taste of a smokey bagel and a hint of.. mint?

For a second, Isa practically dissolved, the warmth of his mouth and tongue blurring her thoughts. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered with desire as he attempted to pull her closer.. then she realized this was exactly what she was trying to avoid. The needy kiss only lasted for a second, but even then, that second, she was plotting her their house plan and a trip to California.

The next second, Isabela was realizing how hard she was falling for the guy over a kiss. And so the absurdity of the situation hit her over the head with a brick.

She pulled away, hysterically getting up and grabbing her things.

"You need to leave," Isabela breathed hastily while she was booking it towards the stairs.

"Isa, where–"

"LEAVE!" She'd yell from the top of the stairs, her eyes wide in and filled with tears. Her mixed emotions frustrating her til no idea. It was silent for a moment, his bewilderment multiplying the more he went through it in his head. He charmed her up, helped her out, made her feel special.. and yet she was special. She was different. She wanted more than the others, more than just a quickie or a flirt. He couldn't put a pin on what, but he knew it was something. Eventually he did leave, Isa hearing the front door slam shut on his way out.

Billy hadn't really grasped the idea of being in an actual relationship. He thought he wasn't good enough, thought the girls only cared for one thing.. the facade he put on. The front inflated his ego and kept him feel like more than he actually did. After he'd had his fun, he'd trail right back to what he actually felt. For a very long time, Billy had felt empty, angry, heavy-hearted.. but when he's with Isabela. Billy sped through the road as his mind raced through the suspicions.. it was like she sees potential in him, to be better.. it was like she could see right through him, past all the bullshit bluffs and party personas, and whatever else he used to build this image that kept him together for so long. Hell, it had only been a few weeks, and she probably knew so much about him.

He had to approach her another way.. and as much as he hated the idea.. he had to do it, honestly.

Billy had let few weeks pass before he even thought of asking her to tutor again. Her constant avoidance of him as if he were the plague helped his plan. When Friday came around, he hoped Isa calmed down enough to at least hear him out. Throughout the entire week, Isabela had noticed something crucial that's heightened her desires. He didn't fraternize with other girls.. at least for the last 6 days. Not that she's heard of, and she definitely would've heard of Billy's sexual escapades.

As Isabela frantically walked home, her thoughts were accumulating. She went through the effects, seeking to decipher the cause. Of course, her biases got the better of her, the heartache she was experiencing, yelling for it to be about her. . .

It was 7 p.m., Isa finishing up her studying when she heard a knock at her window. Her wide eyes wavered up to the pane, weary only for a moment considering there was a tree a bit too close to the side of her house where her bedroom was. But again, a few seconds later, after she turned her attention back to her homework, she wind of the three panged knock.

Isa slightly panicked, slowly rising from her dainty organized desk, but not before grabbing a sharp pair of scissors. Slowly, she stepped over to the pan, and her vision narrowed as she quickly put aside the curtains. When she figured out who it was, her she heaved a sigh, her hands moving to her hips.

"Billy, what the hell are you doing here? You can't be here!" She was pretentious about it, of course. Why was he here? Did he come to try again? God knows Isa definitely wasn't in the mood for more of his schemes.

"Wow, swearing does not suit you," Billy began to climb from the window and into her room. Of course, she protested the entire time, but in the same breaths, she made sure he wouldn't get hurt as well.

"Why are you here, Bil??" Isabela, her arms crossed, waiting for a response. She stood, only to watch him sit on her comforter. When her maneuvered his way through her window, she got a whiff of him, the man smelling decent enough to not stink up her whole room. Also, he was wearing that red shirt.. jesus, the way he could pull off something so simple made her want to fold right then and there.

"This is a nice mattress is real nice! Mind if I borrow it for–"

"Billy, Lo juro por Dios!!" Sensing her sincerity, Billy dropped the act, gesturing a surrender as he held his hands up.

"Alright, alright! There's no need to switch the language up on me," He'd assure her, standing up from her lavender made bed.

"Do you not like me or somethin'?"

"What?"

"You've been avoiding me for 2 weeks. I literally screamed your name across the hall."

"I-I didn't hear you,"

"Bullshit, you looked at me.." Isa could see Billy's annoyance written on his sleeve. She remembered that day, Isabela ignoring Billy and Nova immediately figuring it out what was going on. "You're avoiding him because you're infatuated with him.." She predicted, Isa completely denying it immediately after. So far the most annoying thing about Nova was that she was a hell of a reader.. which meant she was always right.

"I.."

"You–"He'd mock, stepping a little forward towards her.

"I do like you, Billy I jus-" She hesitated, still looking for the words to clarify her actions to him. He seemed like he was amused with his impact on her. Isa could feel very cheeks crimson and her palms got sweaty.

"You kissed me back," He'd state, putting it out there that she yearned for the burning passion between them just as much as he did.. if not more.

"I know... I.. want to keep doing that. I want to keep kissing you," Isa observed the growing smirk on the lone wolf in front of her.

"We can do that.."

"I want to kiss you everywhere. At the Alley, the skating rink, the Starcourt, at your house, at my house, in my room, in the backyard, in the cafeteria, in the halls, before and after classes–" She exhaled, her face hurting from how flushed it was.

"–I wanna go on dates, I wanna cook you food, and have not-so-study study sessions. I want to watch movies with you, laugh with you, be there for you. I don't wanna drive you away, but God damn it, Billy, you make me nervous! Every time you choose to be around me, my hands get clammy, my face resembles that of a tomato, stomach starts to hurt, my heart beats like I'm having a goddamn heart attack!" She paused again, watching it sink in for him.

"You're insufferable, Billy Hargrove, but I really like you... and i don't wanna be just 'one of your girls'. I wanna be.. the girl.." The smitten girl shut herself up after that, suffocating herself as she let the agony of his response sink. He didn't respond for a moment, still aiming to decipher the thought that she would even want to spend more time with him. Most girls usually just want a taste, an appetizer. Shit, Isabela wanted the full course, then the entire buffet. Whether good or bad, she'd taste it all.

Billy hasn't fathomed the thought of someone by his side for a long while, thinking that he was only good enough for a quick adrenaline rush for most people. He was the life of the party, but when the party ended, people didn't want much to do with his life. But she did. She actually wanted to get to know him.

The silence was long enough for Isa to assume his rejection, tears starting to stream down her cheeks. Thank God her hair was long enough to hide her face. She knew this was a bad idea, but she had to know. She took a step back, gesturing to her bedroom door.

"You can, uhm.. leave through the front door," Isa's voice started to break, the girl trying her hardest to hide the way her heart was sinking and at the same time rising up her throat. But instead of heading straight for the door, Billy stepped to Isa, walking slowly and letting the wait of his boots hit her carpeted floor.

"So.. I make you nervous?" Immediately, she was baffled, her cheeks heating up tenfold.

"Billy–" Isa looked away only for the rougish guy to keep her in place and against the wall. His hand went up to her chin, forcing her to look his way.

"Eyes on me," His eyes.. they were expressing something very crucial.. His answer. His answer had her folding like a deck of cards. It was enough that her entire face was betraying her, but her fingertips and ears got in the blushing mood.

"Y-you have my back to the wall here," And to top it all off, what Isabela expected to happen was thrown out the window.

"Good," Billy moved to pull down the tanktop she was wearing under her sweater, leaving her shoulder bare. He leaned down to peck at her smooth collarbone, his hand moving to her wrists to gently holding onto them as he tended to her.

The more he kissed the more passionate he got. He stayed at her shoulder blade for a moment, moving uo to her neck when she started to mutter to him. The light whimpers and whines only egged him on. Soon Isa could feel his breathe become heavy against her earthnut spread skin.

"God, you smell fucking good–" He huffed against her skin, groaning while he inched closer and closer to her lips. He kissed at her chin, then the pink of her cheek, then she corner of her soft lips.. his eyes flickered to hers, hungrily looking for her approach. Her eyes told him it was only green lights, her hazily brown hues yearning in silent response.

The dream-filled teen felt herself nod rapidly, inhaling as his goregous face got centimeters, millimeters closer than before. Then.. and only then did Isabela get to experience the true sensation of Billy's soft lips against hers, locking in complete passion and trust. It felt like the kiss went on forever, their lips tugging and pulling on one another, dancing with such rapture and animation. His calloused hands gripped at her hips, and her cocoa butter covered hands gripped at the red shirt he was prancing around in prior.

Billy seemed to have been starving for some action, Isa feeling the tug at her polyester clad waist. She let the arousing kiss go on for a little long before pulling away, warranting her over-stimulated expression and kiss bitten lips open to Billy's gaze. Somewhere in there, Hargrove could sense the overbearing hope.. then he realized he never really answered. He let his hands hover over her petite waist, thinning about the various was he could ask her out.

"You doin' anything tomorrow..?" Hed asked, immediately watching her expression straighten and light up.

"I-I'm free," Isa almost spat out her answer, she was so quick to speak. It made him chuckle, she realized how cute she was when her excitement about something blasted through. It was like a laser beam, putting a whole though his brain and making it mush while the appendage in his chest swelled.

"How 'bout I take you around town then? Buy you somethin' pretty, then show you off.. You are my girl after all," With that, Isa was smiling like she had just fulfilled her sweet tooth to its maximum capacity. It was big, silly, and it had Billy smiling too, genuinely and even more so when she embraced him. Her arms were tight around his waist, and her head snug against his chest, but the warmth she gave off was so welcoming. It had him thinking he was worthy of something that was honest and raw. As real as the sweet kisses he continued to give Isa as she walked him back downstairs and to his car.

Once he made it to his Camaro, he'd salute her off, taking a long exhale after he wanted his first person to walk back inside. It took guts to do what she did. To be able to dump her feelings, she's had for the past several weeks into his lap and hoped he'd understand. If it was anyone else, he wouldn't have cared to.. but it was her.

It was the woman who walked up to him just to accept his suggestion of tutoring him. It was the woman who took everything he threw at her. The flirting, the raunchy behavior, the way he approached her in the first place. It was the woman who took time out of her busy day to help him with his school work, make sure he understood the material, and made him all kinds of snacks so he wouldn't complain about being hungry. It was the woman who showed she cared.. through her heckling, sometimes bold statements, sudden actions, and just being there.. She was truly Billy's girl... ♡

. ♡ .

Thank you so much for reading all the through! I apologize that it took me so long to finish, but here it is! Hopefully, I'll finish the other one as well! Again, thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!♡

Thank you @buckysgrace for your help finishing this.. very long fic

P.S. If you'd like to be tagged when I post the next part, please let me know in the comments!♡

#stangerthingsoc #stranger things #original character #artists on tumblr #stranger things art #original art #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x oc #billy hargrove #billy hargove imagine #billy hargove smut #billy hargrove x fem!reader #billy hargrove x original character #oc x canon #oc x cc #oc #original character x canon character #isabela wheeler #Isabela Danielle Valentina Vasquez/Wheeler

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jordie-gvf · 1 year

Text

coconuts, josh kiszka

four words. pierced nipples, you're welcome

word count : 1.6k +

warnings : smut, pierced nipples, oral f rec, dirty talk, language, clit slapping, hand riding (if that's even a thing?)

minors dni!

While Josh was away on tour, you got drunk and did something really stupid. Nicole had dared you to get your nipples pierced. You never backed out on a dare, so the two of you went into the piercing shop together.

She helped you pick out jewelry, you went for barbells that had butterflies on the end. They sat you in the chair and your piercer, who was named Liz, did an amazing job in piercing them for you.

She told you everything you needed to know to take care of them.

Flash forward 4 months, Josh comes home. You hadn’t told him what you did, so this would be a surprise to him.

You were glad he wasn't home for most of the time they were healing, they were easier to hide from him.

You had started a collection of different barbells in your jewelry box. They were all kinds of colors and shapes. You grabbed the purple star ones and cleaned them before going to the airport to pick up your lover.

Once you were parked and went inside to get him, you were nervous. You hadn't seen him in four months, so you were a little anxious to see him again.

Obviously, you were going to wait to show him before getting home, but you were thinking of what his reaction would be.

You saw Danny turn the corner first, waving to you and basically running over towards you. You met him halfway and welcomed him with open arms.

When you pulled away, everyone was waiting for their hug, everyone except for Josh. You looked around to see where he was, but you couldn't find him anywhere.

“Bathroom,” you heard from behind you. You turned around and saw Jake, hair cut shorter with his circular sunglasses on.

“You look like one of the Three Blind Mice with those glasses on Jake,” you said and hugged him in the middle of the busy airport.

Sam was last. He put all his stuff down and pulled you in close to him. You and Josh had been together for quite a while, Sam was your best friend. “Hi, Sammy. I missed you.”

“You didn’t miss me, Mama?”

You immediately let go of Sam and turned at the sound of the voice you had missed dearly. You quickly walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his neck. He held you in his arms and spun you around. You could feel his hand come up to the back of your head and pet your hair.

You pulled your head away from the crook of his neck and kissed him.

He pulled away from the kiss and said, “Hey, pretty angel,” and kissed you again. You were finally at peace again with the world, with your lover.

He set you back down onto the ground and you heard Jake say, “Are you two gonna make a baby like right here or? Do we need to evacuate the airport so you guys can get alone time?”

Josh shot him a look and said, “You’re just jealous that I have a girlfriend, Jacob.”

“No fighting. We just got home.” said Danny, the mediator.

You led them to your car that thankfully wasn’t too far away in the parking garage and helped them load everything into your trunk. Gratefully, you drove an SUV, so everything fit in the back. You drove in silence to their homes, dropping them off one by one.

Danny was last. You got out of the car to help him bring his stuff into his place. He thanked you and hugged you again, “It’s so glad to see you again, Y/N.”

You smiled at him and closed his front door, leaving him to go be with Josh. You got back into the car and started the trek back to the house.

Once you got home and Josh had all his bags in the house, you led him upstairs to your bedroom. He raised his eyebrows and you told him that you were going to cuddle, strictly cuddle.

You changed out of your uncomfortable jeans and took your bra off, forgetting that he didn't know about your two piercings.

You left your shirt on and put on a pair of sweat shorts. “Josh! Sit on the bed and close your eyes.”

“Why? Is something going to jump out at me?”

“Just do it.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed and closed his eyes. He put his hands over his eyes and you stood in between his legs.

“While you were gone, Nicole and I went out and got really wasted one night. She had dared me to do something that I thought I would never do in my entire life, but I did. I have been waiting to show you in person. I hope you like it.”

“Did you get a tattoo of my name on your ass cheek or something?”

“No. Should I have done that?” you asked him as you lifted your shirt.

“Can I open my eyes now? I’m getting very impatient.”

You lifted your pink shirt and said, “Yes Handsome, open your eyes.”

He took his hands off his eyes and opened them. He looked at your two barbells in awe, eyes lighting up like the starry sky.

His hands went straight for them but you pulled away just in time. Pulling your shirt back down, you said, “No, you can't touch them yet, they're not properly healed all the way.”

He pouted and said, “But I want to touch them. Let me see them. Just a little touch, please Mama?”

You shook your head and turned away from him, going towards the bathroom. He reached forward and grabbed your waist, pulling you back to him.

He kept your back to him, resting his head on the top of your butt, wrapping his arms around your waist. He laid back on the bed, pulling you down with him.

He toyed with the waistline of your shorts and seductively whispered in your ear, “Come on, Mama. Let me touch them. I promise I’ll be gentle,” and kissed the shell of your ear. He started kissing the side of your neck slowly, his facial hair tickling you.

You were on the verge of caving, your core growing warm. “I already said you couldn’t touch them.”

“I know, but I just love them so much. I wanna see ‘em again,” he said, in the same voice as before.

He slowly moved his hands up your belly to the edge of your shirt. He slipped his hand under the hem, sliding one of his hands up to your breasts. He slipped the other hand down your shorts, playing with the elastic of your underwear.

He moved his hand across your breasts, feeling the warm metal on his skin. He moved his other hand down below the front of your panties, making his way down to your center.

Once he heard you moan at his first touch of your clit, he was hard. You could feel him pressed up against your ass, harder than a rock.

“You miss me, Mama?”

You moaned at the feeling of his middle finger rubbing circles on your clit and his hand groping your breasts.

“I can’t believe you wouldn’t tell me about your pretty nipples, baby” he said as he pulled your shirt over your breasts, keeping it near your neck so he could touch both.

“Use my hand, Mama.”

You planted your feet on the edge of the bed and started grinding up and down on his hand. He rubbed his hand over you while you were riding his hand, maximum pleasure overtaking your body.

“I missed these tits. Now I can love on them even more,” he said, squeezing your breast and jiggling it in his hand.

“I can feel you, Princess. Throbbing and pulsing against my hand. You close, Mama? Gonna cum all over my hand and make a mess all over me?”

You nodded and rode his hand faster, if that was even possible. He slapped your clit and rubbed you, harder and harder every time.

He knew you were about to finish, he started to talk in your ear. “Come on, Mama. I know you can do it. Four months without my touch? How’d you survive? I know I didn’t. Fucked my hand every night and imagined it was this pussy right here. I know they heard me, calling out and moaning your name. Did I care? Fuck no.”

“Josh! Fuck! I- I-!”

“I know, Baby. I know you're close.”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your mouth fell open. He quickly slid you off of him and rushed to take your shorts off.

He moved you up on the bed and kneeled on the comforter, “I can’t put my mouth on your nipples, but I can still eat this pussy.”

He wrapped his arms around your thighs and ate you out like there was no tomorrow. You pushed his head closer to you and he squeezed your thighs. He moaned into you when you gripped onto his hair, his shaven sides lightly tickling the inside of your thighs.

He looked up at you, his first sight being your nipples, looking right back at him. You couldn't see him, but his eyes rolled back and he moved his hands back up to your breasts.

He squeezed them in his hands, never faltering at the assault he was doing on your core.

You both showered and got into bed together. You got in first, facing his side. He got in and said, “Why didn’t you tell me? That would’ve been a great visual for me.”

You heard a voice, not belonging to either you or Josh. “You guys knew I was still down here, right?!”

Josh’s eyes widened as he said, “Oh, we forgot Sam!”

#josh kiszka x reader #josh kiszka fic #josh kiszka #josh gvf #josh kiszka smut #greta van smut #greta van fleet fic #greta van fic #gvf fic

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armpirate · 8 months

Text

Soundleasure || San

pairing: Choi San x fem!reader

w.c.: 4.8k

Aprox. time of reading: 21 minutes

Warnings: Smut, online sex, male masturbation, female masturbation, teasing, dirty talk, mention of porn. If you're a minor, refrain from reading it. Also, if you don't like this content, just keep scrolling.

Summary: Ready to give up on blind dates and dating apps, you were drawned back to the safe place that was his porn channel. Attracted by a voice and his storytelling, and completely clouded by the amount of emotions, you found yourself sending him a private message. He wouldn't read it, and even less answer it, anyway. Or so you thought.

MASTERLIST

You dropped your keys over the dark green sideboard, placed at the left of the entrance to your place, instead of hanging them on the golden hooks that you bothered to hang to avoid dropping your keys over the first place you found. After losing them almost three times -or, atleast, having the illusion that you lost them because it took you almost an hour to find them in the last corner you'd expect in your place-, you thought it'd be a good idea to place a keyholder so you'd be able to hang the keys in a place proper for them.

Today just wasn't the day to use it. You just wanted to disappear somewhere in between your beed and your blankets, and totally erase what happened that day.

Maybe you had been looking forward to that date a little bit too much. Having high expectations of someone you met on a dating app was a bad start, and could only mean that you wouldn't be ready to have those same expectations dashing against the ground at the minimum inconvenience.

Was it minimum though? You always tried to think that maybe you were a bit too demanding when it came to hookups and relationships, always blaming your previous thoughts and ideas instead of accepting the fact that men, in general, were meant to disappoint you no matter what. You'd see it every day on the different dating apps you had installed, thinking that it'd be easier to find someone than just getting out there and hoping Love to find you. Although, lately you weren't even about love. You were ready to settle for a simple dude that'd get his work done with you, and wait for things to go further as a hopeful thought.

That was definitely too much to ask for.

You met Jordan when you were close to deleting your profile. It was the ninetieth dating app you were going to give up on, until you found a cute tanned guy with green eyes that seemed acceptable when he reached out to you after you matched. The conversation was so fluid after two days, that you didn't hesitate to arrange something with him for the weekend.

It was all nice and comfortable until he started to talk about his past relationships. "I don't usually do dating apps", "I'm not a player", "My ex's were all crazy", and a long etcetera that only had you nodding, while you tried your best to concentrate on your food. If you had learned something over your twenty five years was that those who deny something they aren't even asked about, are exactly the image they try to distance themselves from.

You kept undressing yourself as you made your way to your bed, dropping the wrinkled fabric on it while you were only in your underwear. Only bothering to check your phone when the sound of a notification reached your ears while you put on some comfortable clothes.

Another dick pic.

You didn't know if it was the way this new guy thought a dick pic would turn you on -when you didn't even ask for it, and the conversation didn't go further than a "Hey"-, or the fact that it wasn't even that big of a thing to have you losing it and forgetting about the awful night you had.

It was a failed way to get in your pants. There was no way any girl would get turned on by those kinds of pics unprovoked. If at least it came from a person you actually liked, or were attracted to... But loverboy6577 didn't even give you time for that. And it wasn't like you were planning on giving him a chance after that.

Crawling on the bed, and pushing the dress off the mattress with your feet, you felt your body relaxing over the sheets while you looked at your phone. Another notification popped up on the upper bar, but that one made your heart twitch in your chest with excitement.

He usually never posted videos on Saturdays, but there he was. The thumbnail was completely dark when you clicked on it, and the video description explained how he thought about giving that little surprise to his followers. He spoke generally, but for some reason you felt like he was speaking directly at you. Maybe that night you just needed to believe that he was.

Reaching for your earpods, soon your brain could only focus on his masculine voice setting the mood, while the screen was completely dark.

"Are you okay? I bet today was a long day" you pressed your lips at how perfectly his video fitted with the mood you were in that night. "Let me make it up to you, okay? I promise I'll make it better".

You couldn't avoid giggling, while you cringed, as soon as those kissing sounds came up. It was the thing you least liked from his videos, but you still went through it all because it comforted you somehow. At least it helped you imagine the way his lips might look, slightly moist after he moved his tongue on them to be able to make those sounds loud and clear against the microphone.

"I got you, babe" he whispered again, following more kissing sounds. "Have I already told you how good your skin tastes?" he hummed after that, pretending to be taking off some clothes right after. "Let me undress you, I want to see how beautiful you look completely naked".

And soon those kissing sounds weren't on your lips anymore -at least not on your upper lips. Your core throbbed at the fast image of a pair of sexy eyes peeking over your mound, holding your body gently as he aimed you to your own orgasm.

"Mmm, I'm so addicted to your pussy" he groaned, still making licking sounds.

You didn't know when you slid your hand in your underwear and when you started rubbing your clit. You were only aware of how wet and ready you were when your back arched in a perfect curve after he made a spitting sound. He soon groaned, combining perfectly with your pants as you traced circles slowly.

"You're so tight, hmm" and as he said that, you slid two of your fingers filling you, making you bite your lip as your imagination ran wild. "'Feel so fucking good around my cock".

Your head was unconsciously nodding at his words, pounding your fingers in and out a bit faster as time went by. It was as if his moans were the only thing that set the pace you wanted to follow. The squelching sound of his hand stroking his cock, mixed with his whimperings and gasps made it too vivid for you, almost making you forget you were finger fucking yourself, and convinced there was someone leading the way to paradise, your paradise.

"Cum with me, baby" he sobbed, his voice cracking at the last word.

And it didn't take you too long until shiverings ran over your body, a silenced moan by your lips pressed together making it known you came to one of his videos again.

You found his channel while you scrolled down the porn site. Utterly done with the over staged videos, and the exaggerated moans and faces that made you want to tear your phone against the wall rather than touching yourself. Soon it became a usual thing, as if you were a fan. And, considering the way you behaved and felt at his every post, maybe you were.

It made no sense to you. He was faceless, there was nothing but his voice and the words he used. But it was enough to let your imagination run free, and it worked most of the nights, actually. His content was also quite dynamic, and it felt funny how it always fitted your mood completely, like tonight. Some other times, he would just pretend to be a bit rougher. Or maybe he settled a whole scene, and created a tiny porn scene in everyone's heads. But he always managed to make you feel that good.

Usually, he just seemed so out of reach. Soundleasure was a thing, you forgot he was even a person after cumming. He was just content you consumed, because you felt lonely and needy, and no real man would make you reach your high the way he did with his voice only. But it didn't seem like you thought like that that night.

After cleaning yourself up, and getting out of your bathroom, you thought deep about him. He was a real person. He made you understand your own body in a way that no one else has been able to. And if he was able to do that in the distance, maybe it'd be twice more intense if he ever directed all those words at you only.

Maybe it was your loneliness speaking, or the constant let down by every man you tried to meet casually. Clouded by your own feelings, you went further than just leaving a comment like the rest of women that consumed his content. Your finger scrolled up his page, opening his private messages to write the most cordial text you could think of.

And you forgot about it after sending it. It was too late to delete it. It was obvious he wouldn't answer back, he probably wouldn't even see it -considering the amount of women that probably tried the same thing.

That's why as time went by, you forgot about it.

You kept on with life, focusing on work and still going on dates randomly, keeping your mind focused on finding the man of your dreams. Although it was ridiculous from you to think that man would be in any of those apps.

Until one of those days, a buzz sneakily got your attention. Usually, you'd just check the text later -there was no hurry on reading what most dudes had to say. But that day, you felt curious about it.

Your eyebrows instantly frowned when you realized the notification didn't come from the dating app, but from the pornsite you'd secretly enjoy whenever there was an update. And it was, but not the one you were used to.

You felt lucky when your fingers felt weak, but not enough to drop your phone to the ground when you read his text.

Soundleasure: Hey! Sorry for the late reply. Hope you still think my voice is sexy.

You tried to avoid re-reading your own text after sending it, until you were forced to that night. Your face grimaced as soon as you were aware of how cheeky and desperate you seemed on the text you sent. Saying his voice was sexy? And nothing else? God, your mind was intoxicated by the bullshit you read on those dating apps.

You: Maybe... Or maybe you'll have to work a bit harder to get my attention again.

Soundleasure: Hmm. You answered tho, it seems like I have your attention.

You: Maybe I'm just being polite by replying back.

You: It'd be rude to just leave you on read.

Soundleasure: Oh, so you're considerate. That's nice to know.

Soundleasure: Better reason to work harder so I keep having your focus on me.

You bit your lip, lying on the couch while still holding your phone up high. It seemed too surrealistic to be real. You were talking with him, the man that put your standards on sex above the sky.

You: How are you planning on doing that?

Soundleasure: I don't know... You tell me.

You: I'm good at concentrating, so you probably won't have to do much.

Soundleasure: Hahah

Soundleasure: Ok

Soundleasure: What's your name?

You: Y/n

You: what about you?

You: i doubt soundleasure is your real name.

Soundleasure: haha San. That's my name.

Soundleasure: I'm kinda forced to ask you your age.

You: 25. I've been legal for quite a few years.

You didn't ask him his age, you didn't need to. You knew he was twenty four. It was displayed on the short description he had on his channel, along with the type of content he'd post in it.

It'd been almost a week. And while you thought the conversation would end after that night, the truth was that both San and you kept reaching out to each other, coming up with whatever that came to your heads to keep the conversation alive. You were even surprised when, after two days, he asked for your user on Telegram so you could find a more comfortable way to text -you were close, but not enough to be giving out your private phone number to a stranger.

If you thought San was only attractive in those videos, he proved you wrong by the way he acted so charming and close the more you talked. You always gave up the idea of sending him a text, convincing yourself that you'd lose interest as soon as he seemed approachable enough -or as soon as he felt comfortable enough to show his true colors. But you were so mistaken. It's like he threw a hook on you, and every time he pulled you in, you got more attached.

It was also the way you could go from cackling at the conversation, to being forced to press your thighs close together after he dropped a flirty message, or a suggestive pic as if it was nothing. You obviously played along, surprised by how easily he made that nature flow in you.

That Saturday, you had just sent one of your nsfw pics of your blurry naked figure reflected on the bathroom mirror full of steam. It was clear as day that you were naked after taking your shower, but it was impossible to clearly see what the mist was hiding.

San: Fucking hell, Y/n.......

You saw "Typing..." under his name several times, but it always ended up disappearing and he ended up disconnecting, before he came back a few more times. You giggled as a consequence, thinking that you got what you wanted with that snapshot: triggering San.

San: Omg

You: You liked it?

Your text reeked of fake innocence. He knew, you knew.

San: I hated it

Your heart skipped a beat, stopping completely when you saw that text before he suddenly left the app again. You both had been exchanging that type of pictures almost since you started talking to each other, along with a big amount of spicy texts -especially the days he uploaded content to his channel. It was the cherry on top of a great day for the two of you.

Wearing the bathrobe as the only clothing that covered your body, you sat in the middle of the bed, waiting for his text. You were doubting whether you should text first or not, but your phone buzzing in your palm gave you the answer you were looking for.

San: It's unfair I can't see that in person

His answer made you smile instantly, biting your lip while you thought of the next thing to say. He lived in Los Angeles, on the other side of the country, while you lived in Boston. You were more than four hours away.

You: Maybe we can do something better...

You: are you home?

San: Yeah

San: What did you think about?

You clearly didn't think it through, and you chose to act before you could even process your own idea. Every time you had the idea to do a video call, you'd turn it down with the fear of him not liking you -and, sometimes, not liking him. After talking for a week, you two had high expectations on each other -at least on your side it was like that. More than once you were scared of him being disappointed in the way you looked, and you were also terrified with the idea of ending up upset with him.

But that day it didn't seem to matter to you. You clicked on the video call option, and just waited for him to answer. You held your phone at the level of your face, checking your reflection out while you bit your lip nervously. All the excitement started disappearing when he didn't pick up the call, and you started thinking that maybe you got ahead of yourself.

Suddenly, everything was silent and you got surprised by his face on the screen.

You couldn't believe you were ever scared of not liking him. Not only did he had an attractive voice, and a charming personality, his face also seemed sculpted by the gods. His foxy eyes had a gentle look on them as he stared back at you through the screen, and his dimples made his sharp features look innocent and soft as he smiled.

"So I see you weren't lying on taking a shower" he commented, making one of his eyebrows disappear behind his bangs.

"You thought I was baiting you?" his deep chuckle sent shiverings all over your body, before you chose to keep talking. "It'd have been perfect timing for you to send a picture, too" you pointed out.

You were able to point out that he also took a shower, by the way that the end of his bangs that fell on his forehead -and slightly over his eyes- looked a bit wet still.

"You got ahead of me" he played with his hair, acknowledging your good eye sight with a wide smile. His smile slowly dropped to a smirk, as his eyes concentrated on you for a brief second "You're beautiful".

Taking the compliment the best way you could, you simply smiled and lowered your face enough the moment you felt your cheeks lighting up.

"Don't cover up. That's cute" he giggled.

But you couldn't help it. All the times through messages, you two kept acting confidently, being the sexiest of your versions. But there you were, blushing over the word "beautiful" and the way his eyes shined as he said it.

You clearly weren't used to that type of treatment.

"You also look good" you assured him.

"Better than expected?"

Far better than expected.

While you still were surprised by his good physique, you didn't see his face in either of the pics he sent. Like you, he always ended up covering it with the shape of his phone on the several mirror selfies he took, or he straight up cut off his face. So now that you were seeing him, and confirming he was the perfect combo, your head was struggling to admit San was real and not a person you created out of desperation.

"Maybe" you answered teasingly.

"I already had high expectations on you, but you made sure to break them all off" his mouth was trying to transmit that with appeal, yet his smile and the way he nervously pressed his lips together betrayed him.

Just like it happened whenever you texted each other, the conversation didn't seem to have an ending. And it was the best thing with him, the way you felt you could talk for hours and never get bored. There was always a topic, a situation, an anecdote... always something that had you two engaged for a few more minutes. But you didn't know it'd be even better when you two went silent, staring at each other for some seconds, before you bit your lip and spoke again.

"You said it was unfair you couldn't see me in person" you started, tilting your head slightly, "What exactly do you want to see?".

One of his eyebrows raised at your question, grinning while he rested his back against the office chair in his room. "Your skin. I bet it looks softer than it does in pictures".

Your robe slipped off your right shoulder, exposing your collarbone and the curve of one of your breasts "Can you appreciate it now?".

"Kinda" he sighed, "It looks better than on the pic, but not good enough" he smiled again. "Maybe I need to see a bit more".

Now moving down the robe over your other shoulder, it was hanging on your arms -enough to cover up your nipples, but still showing off your cleavage. It was nothing he hadn't seen before though. You had sent several underwear pics at some point in the night, but somehow it felt different that day.

"Would you be able to handle this in person?" the middle finger of your free hand traced your collarbone ever so gently you felt tickles from your own touch.

"I'd do more than just handle it" he assured, his voice going lower with every word. "But I'd for sure rip that thing off. It's pissing me off".

"You don't need to break it though, just" and with that pause, you undid the knot on the upper part of your belly, allowing the soft fabric to expose your breasts on the screen "open it".

A whimper suddenly came out of his lips, at the same time he tried to find a more comfortable position on his chair. San also rolled it a bit more to the back, showing more than just his torso covered with that gray sweater.

You had never felt the strong need to sit on someone's lap until you saw his legs on the screen, with his hands falling on them lazily.

"Those tits are begging to be sucked"

"Hmm" your right hand kept wandering all over your torso, feeling your nipples tightening at the filth in his words. "I bet they'd look better if they were in your mouth instead".

Just the thought of it got your body working faster than it has ever worked before, as if you were going to take him at any time.

"Of course" he nodded "Getting them hard and stiff until they hurt".

Following his words, your index and thumb rubbed on your nipple, tightening the grip sporadically, ending it with a pinch and pull that got you pressing your thighs at the sudden throb.

"I want to see you, too"

San thought he'd collapse right there when he saw you pouting as you said that, your hand dropping out of the camera vision while your eyes intensely looked at him. Maybe he was too horny, or maybe his lack of experience with any other girl made him so eager for you. But there he was, willing to do anything you'd ask for.

While he took off his sweater, you placed a pillow at the edge of the bed just so you could rest your phone on it and forget about holding it up in the air. You heard him groan at the sight of your half naked body, while your hands still held together the edges of your robe so your lower part wouldn't be exposed.

"I think this is the hardest I've ever been for someone" he mentioned, stroking his growing bulge over his black sweatpants.

"Let me see how hard I'm making you" you asked, kneeling in the middle of the bed.

It didn't take San a minute before he was lowering his pants and boxers enough to let his cock spring free in the air, and ending up resting on his stomach. Your eyes got lost on the shape of his cock, thinking how bad you'd like to suck on its curve, tracing the veins that went from the base to the tip with your tongue.

You could feel your mouth watering at the image, wishing there weren't 2611 miles between you two right at that moment. That man for sure wasn't real. Every inch of his body was perfect.

"Cat got your tongue?" he teasingly asked, stroking his cock while he looked at you.

"I wish that was the problem" you scoffed, bending over, resting your body on your elbows, so you could see his image up close. "I've never wanted to get choked on a cock so bad in my life".

"I bet you'd look gorgeous with your mouth stuffed with it" he groaned.

You smiled, aiming two of your fingers at your mouth. You rubbed the tip of your fingerprints on your flat muscle, just to enclose your lips around them while staring straight at the camera. It felt like your eyes were connecting through the whole thing, because you could hear San cursing as soon as you did that.

"Show me how wet you are while you still suck on those fingers, hmm?"

Biting on your own fingerprints, you smiled. You for sure were leaking at that point, you could fill your juices dripping from your entrance to your clit when you bent over to the camera. Changing your position again, you opened your robe completely with your legs still closed as you saw in front of the camera. And once you made sure everything was seen for him, you spread your legs, having San moaning out loud at the vision of your glistening lips.

Your wet fingers with your spit traveled all the way from your lips to your pussy, moving through your folds for him. Your heart skipped a beat when they reached your clit, finally being taken care of after ignoring it for so long.

"Wet enough to have my face buried in it" his raspy voice added "I bet you taste so fucking good".

And soon those scenarios you planted in your head, with a mysterious man with no face, finally came back to your head with every detail you could add. Your pussy clenched around the emptiness in your walls as your mind went wild and your fingers drew circles slowly.

"I'd love to know if that tongue is good at licking as much as it is at dirty talking" you joked, finding his eyes somewhere on the screen again.

"You can bet I'd have your legs trembling and your ears beeping after you cum" he smirked. "Slide two fingers in. Open up for me".

And just the same way you allowed your fingers to go down your folds and sink them inside of you, you saw San spitting on his hand and wrapping it around his shaft again.

"That's it, honey. Knuckles deep" he encouraged you, making the biggest effort to keep his eyes open through his own pleasure. "Pump them in and out as if it were my cock".

The praise in his words, the way he controlled your movements even from afar had you completely out of your mind. You were sure the sound of his voice was giving you more pleasure than your own fingers.

Managing to open your eyelids, that felt heavy as ever before, you got a moan stuck in the back of your throat as you saw him pumping his cock at a steady pace. The way you were able to see your opened legs through the corner of your eyes, while your eyes were fixed on the porn scene he was pulling made everything hotter. You were sure the temperature rose a few more degrees the moment you started that video call.

"You'd look even better if it was my cock fucking you" he moaned, moving his hand faster on his shaft. "Your tits bouncing every time I pound into you, holding you tight by your hips so you could take it all".

"I bet you'd stretch me out so good" you nodded.

Your brain was close to having a dead short at any time. The naughtiness in his words, mixed with everything that was going on in real life and in your head was too much to handle. Your back arched every time you sinked your fingers in and your palm rubbed on your clit.

"I'm gonna cum" you cried, unable to hold it back any longer.

"I'm so close, too" he groaned, throwing his head back finally. "Wait for me. I'm almost there".

Still moving your fingers in sync with his movements, you found yourself at the edge of the cliff, only allowing yourself to jump from it when you heard muttering he was ready, too. Both of your moans got mixed in the air as you both reached your highs. And, slowly, those moans turned to loud pants while you tried to get some oxygen back to your lungs.

Daring to look at him, you found San with his head falling back to the chair, eyes still closed while he smiled pleased.

"It was amazing" he whispered.

"Yeah" you agreed, sighing.

He finally opened his eyes, and you were mesmerized by how beautiful and genuinely they looked. You saw him getting some air, and opening his mouth, before he got interrupted by a male voice coming from outside the room "Where the fuck is the controller? I need to beat these assholes' asses".

Managing to cover your body with the robe again, you smile at a pissed of San. "It's alright, you can text me later"

"I won't take long" he assured you, before he hung up the video call.

Back in the silence and loneliness in your room, you made your best at holding in the sudden need to jump on the bed and dance away in excitement.

Your bad streak was finally over.

Most probably this will turn into a long fanfic, just like Kalla did. So take this as a snippet of what's to come soon!

#ff #smut #one shot #reader insert #san #choi san #san smut #ateez #choisanxreader #sanxreader #armpirate

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thefatedthoughtofyou · 3 months

Text

Love Never Wanted Me ( But I Took It Anyway )

Baron Lamram x GN reader

Summary: The morning after you and Baron finally fall into bed together you decide to make him breakfast in bed. He has other ideas.

Warnings: one use of "baby", slightly rough sex, biting, slightly possessive Baron, kitchen sex (no food involved in the sex), fluff and snuggles also. It's got it all. ONE TEENY TINY SPOILER FOR MARMALADE BUT IF YOU HAVEN'T BEEN SPOILER ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE YOU SHOULD BE FINE!!!!

Minors be gone!!! 18+ only!!! Avert your eyes children!!!!

🍒🍒🍒🍒

The morning sun wakes you, shining in your eyes through the crooked blinds on the window. You groan low in your throat and turn away, the sound stalling in your throat when you see someone lying next to you. Your heart flutters for a moment before last night rushes back to you.

You'd been out with Baron. At the same bar you two always went to. Joking and laughing and talking to only each other, though you both always used the excuse of needing to meet people to get there. You didn't really wanna meet anyone. You just wanted to be with him. However he'd have you.

You'd grown close in the past year, since meeting him when you visted your grandmother. He was sweet, and a little odd at times, but oddness had never been off-putting to you. He'd helped you learn your way around. And you'd quickly become friends.

And last night. Both of you seemed to have finally had enough. Enough waiting. And just the right amount of alcohol to make you both lighter. Knocking your guards down. And he'd kissed you, a smile on his lips when you looked at him after. And then you'd fallen into bed with him. Finally.

You smile as you watch him now, sleeping next to you. He snuffles, his nose scrunching, as he breathes in deeply before huffing into his pillow, his brows knitting together. You sink your teeth into your lip and reach out, allowed to touch him now.

You sooth your knuckles genlty over the small crease on his head, moving a bit of his hair out of the way, easier now, since he'd gotten it cut a few months ago. You missed the long hair some days. But watching the way his face calms with your touch, you're glad to be able to see him. You move your thumb over his cheek genlty, watch him snuggle down into his pillow, and slowly climb out of bed.

You grab your shirt and your underwear, tugging them on as you stumble around quietly, making your way down the hall to the bathroom. You wash your face and find your eyes lingering on his toothbrush. Your fingertips almost touching it, but you pass by it and grab the toothpaste instead. Using your finger to freshen up a bit at least.

You almost crawl back into bed, but your stomach rumbles and you get a better idea. Baron seemed the type to like breakfast in bed. You hoped. He'd never really spoken about his past relationships, so you couldn't be sure. But... most people would find it sweet. Surely.

You fumble around the kitchen for a bit, checking cabinets and the fridge. Eggs, milk, butter, bread. You found a bottle of syrup in the small pantry and decided to give it a go.

You're flipping the second peice of frenchtoast when he comes up behind you, arms sliding around your waist carefully, his nose tucking behind your ear and nuzzling.

"Smells good." He hums, his breath on your skin sending shivers dancing across your skin.

"Thanks. French toast. You like yours crispy or soft?" You ask, humming yourself when he presses a kiss to your neck.

"Mmm I like mine sweet." He whispers, licks up your neck slowly and then drags his teeth back down the path he'd made. Your eyes close involuntarily as you lean back into him. His hands moving to your hips, fingtips dipping under the hem of your underwear and staying there, against your warm skin, frustrating.

He kisses back up your neck, you turn your head to meet him, smiling into the kiss. His tongue dips inside your mouth and you moan, your hand clenches on the spatula you're holding. Or trying to hold.

"You're minty." He breathes into your mouth, tongue licking across your bottom lip before he pulls back to look at you, head dipping to brush his nose across your shoulder.

"So are you." You accuse, gently, smiling at him as his eyes move over your face. His hair is a mess from sleep, and from your hands the night before. He's wearing a soft light blue shirt and boxers. He looks so soft you want to hug him and touch him. But his firm hold keeps you in place, your back snug against his chest.

"Did you use my toothbrush?" He asks, his voice husky and low, and you know it's not just from sleep. You can feel him against you, hard and warm where his hips are pressed against you. You move back into him and shake your head, feeling flustered, because you'd thought about it. You'd wanted to.

"Wanted too though. Didn't ya?" He asks, though it isn't a question, judging by the look in his eyes, and the slow roll of his hips. You dig your teeth into your lip and nod. He nods back, reaches out and turns the stove off, settles his hand back on your hip.

He moves his other hand to your stomach, settles it there, his palm warm through your shirt.

"Wanted to wake up next you." He mumbles into your shoulder, nosing at your neck again as his hand moves down.

"I'm sorry. Thought you might want breakfast in bed." You sigh, letting your head fall back onto his shoulder. You feel him nod, feel his lips against your shoulder, and then his teeth again as he tucks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, his skin against yours sending electricity through your body.

"I did." He says, voice gravely, his hand moving down, deeper, until you're squirming in his arms, your hand dropping the spatula. It clatters to the floor, forgotten, as he moves his fingers, oh so slowly.

"Baron." You breathe his name like a prayer, feel his teeth on your neck, and then a smile, and then his tongue soothing over the spot.

"Wanted you in bed. With me." His free hand moves to you cheek, turns your face towards him.

"Can I?" He asks, hips rolling against you, pressing you against the stove. He looks down at the stovetop quickly and moves you roughly to the side, away from the heat, pressing you against the counter instead. You're almost panting now, your lungs not filling enough as you breath, light headed and dizzy from his touch.

"Yeah." You breathe, your hands find his arm and clentching, nails digging into his skin.

"Please." You beg, pushing your hips back into him. He smiles against your lips and moves his hand, curls his fingers up into you. Your hands slam down on the counter top as you whine, high in your throat. His teeth dig into your lip genlty before he presses his tongue into your mouth, painfully slow as he moves his fingers, lighting fires across your skin.

"Oh fuck." You pant, bending forward, your muscle tight.

"I know baby." He whispers, moving with you, pressing against your back. He kisses behind your ear and then tugs your underwear down, just to your thighs, trapping them together. You rest your head against the cool counter top and feel him shove at his boxers. He doesn't give you anymore warning before he presses into you. Both of you moaning at the feeling. His teeth are in your shoulder again and his hips press flush to you, your hands scrambling for purchase on the counter.

"Jesus fuck." You pant, and he laughs in your ear, rolls his hips deeper.

"Yeah? You like that?" He asks, voice low in your ear. You can't speak, the pressure in your body, and his skin against yours almost maddening. You bite into your lip hard and nod, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

Then you feel his hands on you again, moving down your arms. His palms move over the backs of your hands and he laces your fingers together, his hips finding a slow rhythm as he moves in you. You can't stop the whimper that falls past your lips.

"Knew you would." He's panting too, you can feel his hot breath on your neck, feel his hips stuttering as you clench around him, squeezing his fingers tight with your own, pleasure washing over you as you cry out.

He doesn't stop then, just keeps his hips moving, slow, and rhythmic though your orgasm, and keeps moving despite your whines of feeble protests, his fingers clenching yours tightly.

"I know. Fuck. You feel so good." He pants, hips moving a little faster, pressing you harder against the counter, you feel his forehead rest between your shoulder blades.

"So fucking good. And all mine." He gasps, yanks his hands free of yours and wraps them around your waist, pulling you up with him, your back pulled flush to his chest. You can feel his heart beating fast against your skin and he whines into your shoulder and grinds himself deeper.

"You're mine now. Never letting you go." He growls into your shoulder, teeth biting at your shirt as he pulls back and then slams into you again, groaning and grabbing at you, pulling you impossibly closer.

Your skin burns at his words. His. You are. Have been since last night. Since he kissed you. Since he pressed you down into the matress, curled his arms up under your shoulders and buried himself as deep as he could in you, fingers leaving bruises on your shoulders.

And you remember what he'd told you, at the bar, before he kissed you. That no one had ever loved him. Not really. Not like this. You remember the look in his eyes as he undressed you and took you apart peice by peice. And you know you love him. Know that you're his. Forever. As long as he'll have you.

Your nails scratch down his arm as he pushes deeper, grinding into the perfect fucking spot inside you that no one's ever hit like this.

"Fucking mine." He growls, teeth sinking into your neck briefly, his tongue following it quickly, soothing the hurt as you writhe and come apart in his arms.

"Yours. I'm yours. All yours." You babble, words falling past your lips as your brain shuts down, his hands are everywhere, all over you, pushing and pulling and holding you close, fingers digging into your skin hard as his rhythm falters.

One hand grabs your cheek, turns your face to him so he kiss you, his tongue pressing into your mouth in sync with his hips moving against you and its too much. Too much and so so perfect. You grab at his hair and he moans, deep, his hips shoving you into the counter roughly as he cums, his teeth on your neck again sinking deep, your thighs shaking and clenching as you follow him over the egde.

"Fuck. Sorry." He sighs into your back, head pressed between your shoulders again. You laugh, feathery light, in your throat. Your arms shaking as they brace you on the counter.

"What for?" You asks, chest heaving. He slips out of you, and groans when you reach down and quickly pull your underwear up. You turn, finally able to face him, his arms wrap around you immediately, tugging you close. He moves his fingertips over your neck, and it stings, a little.

"Didn't mean to bite you that hard." His brows are furrowed as he looks at your neck.

"It's fine." You shake your head, arms wrapped around him too, your hands pressed gently to his back, your legs still a bit wobbly, but he frowns.

"You're bleeding." He says, and he sounds like he's far away, somewhere else. He gets that way sometimes. You reach up, cradle his face and make him look at you.

"It's okay. I liked it." You nod, reassuring, press your lips to his genlty. You pull back and his eyes are wide, he blinks at you, slowly.

"Yeah?" He asks, sounding so unsure, and small. You press further into his space, press a kiss to his neck and rest your head on his shoulder.

"Yeah. And besides. I hurt you too." You whisper, moving your hand down his arm, drawing his attention to the scratches your left behind as you clawed at him. He smiles at them, slow and syrupy. He looks tired.

"Wanna go back to bed?" You asks, nosing into his neck before standing straight again. His brow furrows again, eyes moving to the two plates set on the counter, one already loaded with french toast.

"But you made food." He says, and he still sounds dreamy. And you like him dreamy, you really do, wanna hold him close under his covers when he's like that. So you take his hand, give it a squeeze and smile at him.

"We can warm it up later. C'mon." And tug him back to bed.

You've been laying in peaceful silence for almost an hour, hands moving across each others skin, touching each other, gentle, innocent touches that seem to ground him. You're hand finds his hair and he sighs, bone deep. His eyes close for a moment and when he opens them again that glassy dreamy look is fading.

His fingers walk up your arm, his skin warm, before they land on your neck. You know they're hovering at the edge of the mark he made. What you think might be an actual bite mark, teeth imprints an all. Something you'll have to hide when you leave here. Or not.

The urge to leave it uncovered for everyone to see sends a rush through you and you feel dizzy again. You briefly wonder if he'll ever stop making you feel that way, and decide just as fast that you don't want it to stop.

You move your hand up, cover his and move them both to rest on the matress between you, your legs are tangled together, there's not much space there really, just enough for your entwined hands.

"I really hurt you." He whispers, his eyes wide as they stare at your neck.

"It didn't hurt." You say, shaking your head.

"How did that not hurt?" He asks, frowning, his voice incredulous.

"I didn't even feel it." You laugh through your nose, squeeze his hand, move his fingers to your lips and kiss them for good measure. He's still not satisfied.

"But how-"

"I was a little preoccupied with other feelings. Baron." You look at him, pointedly. And smile when realization washes over him and his cheeks tint pink.

"Right. Okay." He says, sheepish, burying his face deeper into the pillow.

"Yeah. Dork." You mutter, reaching out, wiggling a little closer, sinking your hand in his hair again. He sighs, like always, apparently, and opens one eye to look at you, his nose scrunching.

"You're sure I didn't hurt you? That it- that it's okay?" He asks, and you hear the question beneath the question.

'You're sure it's not too much. That I'm, not too much.'

You nod, blinking slowly at him. He stares at you, so you stare back, let his eyes move over your face, looking for something. A lie, you guess. When he doesn't find it, he nods, presses closer and kisses you.

"How are you gonna cover it? Is that? That's a thing right? People covering lo- covering marks and stuff?" He asks, moving his fingers over it again. You squint at the pain and he moves his hand to your shoulder instead, wincing with you.

"People cover love marks yeah." You say, filling in the words he stumbled over, making him blush again, he rolls his eyes at you.

"But I don't think I'm going too." You shrug, smiling at him soflty. He frowns at you, eyes on your neck again.

"It's like- people won't ask you about it? It's like... kinda bad." He says, cringing as he stares at it. You shrug again, push yourself up onto your elbow so he has to look up at you.

"It's fine. It's just a bite mark. Besides," you say, leaning over him, hand planted next to his head as you hover above him.

"If I cover it up, how will people know I'm yours?" Your eyebrow twitches up as you smirk down at him. He gulps, reaches up and cups your cheek.

"I guess, that's a good point." He says, voice a little higher than normal.

"I thought so." You twitch your nose at him, press a soft kiss to his lips, both of you smiling when you hum into at the same time.

You lower yourself down and curl into his side, his arm wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you close as his thumb moves soothingly up under your shirt sleeve.

"Mine huh?" He whispers above you.

"Yep. Yours. You'll never get rid of me now." You snuggle deeper into his chest, your arm tugging him closer, tucking your hand beneath him, wiggling your fingers against him util he squirms, a little laugh bubbling out of him. His fingers press deeper into your arm before he moves his hand up to cradle your neck instead, fingers resting on the mark he'd made, gentle, so he doesn't hurt you.

"Wouldn't dream of getting rid of you. Keeping you forever." He says quietly, his voice soft and slow with sleep.

You smile against his chest, move yourself up a bit and tuck your face into his neck. You watch him smile at the movement, tucking you in closer to him as you both sink deeper into his sheets, tangled together, from head to foot. His fingers pressed to your skin where he'd torn it open with his teeth, his touch soft, and safe, and yours.

Requested and written for @jozstankovich my beloved. 💛💙💛

#my writing #baron lamram x reader #baron lamram fic #baron lamram x gn reader #baron lamram x gender neutral reader #baron lamram x you #my fic #mine

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