#'[i]f a man stands before a mirror and sees in it his reflection...

[batgeance]

bruce voice annoying me so i'm putting drafts down but i can't stop thinking about these lines from de selby pt 1

[winxanity-ii]

SACRILEGIOUS DEVOTION [1/3]

ship: father charlie x fem!nun!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 (oral sex/f. receiving; overstimulation; coercion/dub-con?; sacrilege, heavy religious imagery) word count: 3.6k a/n: So, Father Charlie is out here losing all his morals and sanity on Grotesquerie and my mind couldn't help but match it, so what's a better idea other than channeling all the religious trauma/journey into a spicy one-shot? i for one feel like it's a mini-therapy, but enough rambling, enjoy 😩🫶🏾 i'm in love with a holy man, mother 😔…. second part: 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 and final part: 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

★·.·´ɢʀᴏᴛᴇsǫᴜᴇʀɪᴇ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

Father Charlie Mayhew was a sick man.

Not in the manner of flesh, but of spirit. He could feel the sickness festering in the quiet corners of his heart, a sinful yearning that had taken root there, twisting itself around his thoughts like creeping ivy.

It was a sickness that, he believed, made him a grotesque parody of the holy man he was meant to be. For how could he call himself righteous, devoted, when every whisper of prayer felt stained by the way his eyes followed you, Sister ____?

You were a vision of purity, an embodiment of the kind of gentle devotion that Father Charlie envied and craved all at once.

He watched you from a distance, always careful not to draw your gaze, afraid of what you might see if you looked too deeply. How dutiful you were, sweeping the church aisle with a focus that made him forget the dust and see only the graceful motion of your hands.

The sun, filtered through stained glass, seemed to seek you out, casting colors on your habit as if to mark you as someone far beyond his grasp, almost holy in your mundane tasks.

It was in the mornings, when he heard the soft chime of your laughter in the courtyard as you fed the pigeons, that he felt the deepest sting of his wretchedness.

The world seemed simpler in those moments, your laughter echoing off the stone walls, the warmth of early sun painting the sky in soft pinks and oranges. He wondered if you knew how your kindness drew even the animals to you, their heads dipping into your palms as if receiving communion.

There was a stillness to you, a gentleness in every gesture.

The worst of it was during your services. Father Charlie had seen you on your knees before, hands folded in earnest prayer, your lips moving softly as you whispered your devotion to God.

He would stand at the back of the chapel, watching with a mixture of awe and something far darker. He told himself it was admiration, but the truth festered beneath that facade.

It was longing, a hunger that ached at the edges of his soul.

A storm raged outside the convent one evening, winds battering the church walls with a fury that mirrored the tempest building in his chest. The clouds were bloated, dark as his thoughts, and thunder rolled across the sky with a violence that shook even the faith he held so dear.

You had come to his chambers in the dead of night, your knock barely audible over the howling wind. He had been preparing for bed, freshly out of the shower, wearing only his boxers when he heard you at the door.

The creak of the old wood seemed to echo forever as he opened it, and there you stood, eyes wide, looking so impossibly fragile in the dim candlelight of the corridor. Your modest night slip clung to your form, the thin fabric shifting in the draft that sneaked in from the hallway.

Charlie's breath had caught in his throat at the sight of you, innocence incarnate, seeking refuge with him.

He hesitated for only a moment before allowing you in, quickly wrapping himself in a silk robe that hung loosely on his shoulders, barely tied. He knew he should not let you enter, but there was something in the way you looked at him—so trusting, so devoted—that made him abandon every rational thought.

You had come asking to pray with him, your soft voice trembling as you spoke. The storm outside seemed like a reflection of the turmoil within him as he let you step past the threshold, closing the door behind you.

Now, you were here, kneeling before him, your eyes upturned and wide, waiting for his command, for his instruction like the obedient servant of God that you were.

Your soft voice brought him out of his thoughts, a gentle, "Father...?"

Charlie could only lament to himself how sinfully pure you looked. He hummed softly, his eyes dark as they trailed over you, lingering on the curve of your shoulders, the delicate line of your neck.

The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across your skin, highlighting the innocence that made his hunger all the more unbearable.

"Yes, forgive me, Sister. Let us now pray," he finally said, his voice low and rough, the words nearly swallowed by the sound of the wind outside. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your forehead, and you leaned into the touch without hesitation, your eyes closing as if his hand was a blessing.

He swallowed hard, his thoughts spiraling deeper into the forbidden desires he had tried so desperately to keep buried.

He began to pray, his voice low, raspy, each word a struggle against the chaos inside him. "Heavenly Father, we come before you tonight..." But the words felt hollow, their meaning slipping away as he watched you, kneeling so obediently at his feet.

His eyes darkened, wandering further down, tracing the lines of your form. The way your lashes fluttered against your cheeks, the soft rise and fall of your chest with each breath—it all seemed to pull him further from the sanctity of the moment.

He should have been thinking of God, of salvation, of the purity of the prayer—but instead, he was thinking of you, of the way the thin fabric clung to your skin, the soft curve of your breasts visible through the modest slip.

He licked his lips, his gaze fixed on the delicate line of your collarbone, the way it rose and fell with each breath you took.

The more he spoke, the less the words mattered. He could feel the heat rising in his chest, spreading through his body, his thoughts growing more erratic, each word of the prayer slipping further from its sacred meaning, twisting into something profane, something filthy. "Protect us from all evil..." he whispered as he traced the line of your jaw with his thumb, the words a bitter irony as he felt himself drawn further into the darkness of his desires.

His hand moved lower, fingers trailing down your neck, lingering at the hollow of your throat. His touch was gentle, but there was a weight behind it, a hunger that he could no longer deny.

He could almost see the curve of your bare skin beneath the thin fabric, the outline of your body that he should not be imagining. He tried to focus on the prayer, but every word felt like a lie. He let out a shaky breath, the prayer faltering on his lips. "Guide us... guide us in your light," he managed, his voice thick with the weight of his longing.

The storm outside raged on, the wind howling as if to warn him, but Father Charlie could no longer hear it. All he could hear was the pounding of his own heart, the rush of blood in his ears as he looked down at you, so trusting, so willing.

As the final words of the prayer fell from his lips—"Amen"—you echoed him, your voice soft and unwavering. You blinked open your eyes, looking up at him with such innocence and Charlie felt himself slip past the point of no return.

He knew that no amount of prayer could ever cleanse him of what he wanted, that he could no longer pretend, no longer fight against the pull that drew him to you—the sweet, precious nun who had unknowingly captured his very soul.

Father Charlie stood, his robe slipping slightly from his shoulders, exposing the toned muscle beneath. The wind howled outside, and thunder bellowed again, followed by a flash of lightning that lit the room in a brief, startling blaze of white.

You were still kneeling before him, your wide eyes following his every movement, the flickering light casting you in both shadow and radiance.

Charlie bent at the waist, his fingers reaching out to cup your jaw, thumb caressing your bottom lip as his half-lidded eyes trailed over your face. "Sister ____," he murmured, his voice dripping with a twisted kind of affection, his name for you almost reverent, as though you were something sacred, something he could worship in his own unholy way.

You blinked, shifting slightly beneath his touch, a soft stutter escaping your lips. "F-Father...?"

He grasped one of your hands, his fingers wrapping around yours, and as he stood, he gently urged you to rise with him. His gaze never left your face, his eyes dark and full of something raw. He began to speak, his voice barely more than a murmur, the words heavy with confession. "As a man of God, there are expectations placed upon me," he started, his tone wavering between remorse and something darker, something that made his grip on your hand tighten. "I am meant to guide, to protect, to remain steadfast in my faith."

His other hand moved, slowly pulling your trembling hand against his bare stomach, pressing your palm against the hard planes of his abdomen.

You gasped, your eyes wide as you looked up at him, your hand trembling beneath his. The heat of his skin burned into your palm, the muscles flexing beneath your touch.

Charlie continued, his voice lowering, growing more intense as he spoke. "But these days... these days, Sister, I find myself at war. At war with desires that threaten to consume me..." His words trailed off, and he let out a low hum as he rubbed your hand across his stomach, the movement slow, deliberate.

Your hand hesitated for a moment, the warmth of his skin making you tremble as you instinctively pulled back. But his grip was firm, guiding you back, and slowly, tentatively, your fingers splayed across his stomach, your touch feather-light.

You swallowed hard, your eyes flickering down before you took a timid step closer, as if drawn by some invisible force. Your gaze shifted to the side, your cheeks warming with embarrassment at the proximity, at the way you could feel his heart beating beneath your palm.

Father Charlie's eyes never left you, and he could see every ounce of hesitation, every flicker of uncertainty that danced across your face. He leaned in slightly, his breath brushing against your forehead as he spoke, his voice a low murmur, "There's no need to be afraid, Sister. You are safe here... with me."

You blinked, your lashes fluttering as you dared to look up at him, your eyes meeting his through the veil of uncertainty.

There was something in his gaze, something dark and magnetic that pulled at you, made your pulse race. His thumb brushed the edge of your jaw; the touch almost comforting, but there was an intensity behind it that made you shiver.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes searching yours.

You nodded slowly, not trusting your voice to speak, your fingers trembling slightly against his skin. He smiled, a slow, almost predatory curve of his lips, and he hummed again, satisfied with your silent answer.

His other hand moved to rest against the small of your back, pulling you just a little bit closer, his robe parting further, exposing more of his chest.

Your breath hitched as you felt the distance between you closing, the way his body seemed to envelop yours. You could barely think, your mind clouded with the storm of emotions and the strange, electric pull you felt toward him.

His thumb traced along your bottom lip, his eyes darkening as he watched you. You felt your pulse quicken, your knees weakening under the intensity of his gaze.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice a mix of praise and something darker, something that made your heart pound even harder. His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your body react, leaning in just slightly, as if craving more of his warmth, his touch.

His fingers trailed lower, coaxing your hand along his body, and you felt the tension, the desire in every muscle. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a husky whisper, "Let me show you, Sister ____... let me show you what devotion truly means."

He kissed you then, his lips crashing against yours like a man starved. His mouth moved hungrily, tasting, devouring, and you felt his tongue lick into your mouth, coaxing a soft, surprised whimper from your throat. His groan vibrated against your lips, the sound raw and desperate.

Your head spun, your senses overwhelmed by the taste of him, the sheer need in his kiss.

You pulled back, gasping for air, your lips tingling from the force of his kiss. He didn't give you a moment to recover; his lips moved to your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin.

He nipped at your neck, his teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp, to make your knees weaken beneath you. The heat of his mouth trailed down, his tongue flicking out to soothe each small bite, and you felt your body trembling, a warmth pooling low in your belly.

Charlie's hands were relentless, holding you steady as your body threatened to give out, your knees buckling as his mouth worked against your skin. He pulled back only long enough to whisper your name, his voice thick with something between reverence and hunger.

Before you knew it, he had scooped you up, his arms strong and sure as he carried you towards his bed. Your breath hitched, your fingers clinging to his robe as he moved, each step filled with purpose.

He set you down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping beneath your weight. His eyes roamed over you, dark and filled with desire, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath.

Father Charlie moved quickly, his hands deft as he pushed your slip off your shoulders, the fabric sliding down your skin and pooling around your waist. His lips followed the path of the falling slip, pressing soft, lingering kisses along your shoulders, his warm breath fanning across your skin.

You shivered beneath his touch, the cool air of the room prickling at your exposed skin, your nipples pebbling in response.

His eyes darkened at the sight of you, and he let out a low groan, his hands running along your bare arms, feeling the way you trembled beneath him. "You're like a goddess," he murmured, his voice thick with reverence and lust. "Perfect. Untouched. A temptation I can't resist." His lips found your collarbone, kissing, nipping, his words vibrating against your skin.

You felt heat rise in your cheeks, your heart pounding as his lips moved lower, trailing down the center of your chest, his hands spreading across your back, urging you to arch into him. His kisses were relentless, each one making your breath catch, making your body react in ways that felt both unfamiliar and thrilling.

You couldn't stop the soft whimper that escaped your lips, your hands clutching at the sheets beneath you, unsure of what to do, where to touch.

Charlie pulled back for a moment, his eyes locking onto yours, his gaze filled with hunger. He pushed you back against the bed, guiding you to lie down, his hands never leaving your body, his touch possessive, as if he couldn't bear to be without contact. He looked down at you, splayed out before him, your slip barely covering you, and he licked his lips, his eyes raking over every inch of your exposed skin.

"Look at you," he whispered, his voice dripping with a mix of adoration and hunger. "So innocent, so pure... and all mine." He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a heated kiss, his hands working the slip further down your body, baring you completely to him.

The cool air made you shiver, your body exposed, vulnerable, and you couldn't help the way your legs shifted, instinctively trying to close.

Charlie's hands moved to your knees, gently but firmly pushing them apart, his eyes never leaving your face as he watched your reaction. His lips moved from your mouth, trailing down your jaw to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin as he groaned against you.

He pulled the slip away entirely, tossing it aside, his hands roaming over your bare skin, mapping every inch as though he were committing you to memory. "You are... perfection," he muttered, his voice strained, filled with a hunger that made your breath hitch.

His lips moved lower, trailing down your body, leaving a heated path across your chest, your stomach, and further down. His hands were strong, keeping your legs pinned open to the bed, his fingers pressing into your thighs with a possessive hold. He kissed along your inner thighs, his warm breath fanning over your skin, making you shiver, anticipation coiling in your belly.

You instinctively tried to scoot back, to move away as you felt his breath getting closer to your core, but Charlie's grip tightened, his hands holding you firmly in place. He looked up at you, his eyes dark, almost predatory, as he whispered, "Stay still, Sister... let me worship you."

He breathed you in, a deep, satisfied groan rumbling from his chest. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, as if savoring the scent of you, and then he leaned in, his tongue licking a slow, deliberate stripe from your entrance to your clit.

A squeal, half surprise and half pleasure, escaped your lips, your back arching slightly off the bed.

Father Charlie's tongue moved with a purpose, his lips wrapping around your clit, sucking gently before flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud. His hands kept your legs spread, his grip firm and unyielding as he worked his mouth against you, his groans vibrating against your core.

He was relentless, his mouth moving with a hunger that made your head spin, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you, trying to ground yourself as waves of pleasure washed over you.

You could feel his smooth skin against your inner thighs, the sensation only adding to the overwhelming pleasure that built inside you. His tongue moved in slow, teasing circles, his lips pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against you, his eyes flicking up to watch your every reaction.

The sight of you—your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, the way your chest heaved with every ragged breath—only seemed to spur him on, his groans growing louder as he tasted you.

Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, your hips bucking against his mouth, a whimper slipping from your lips. Charlie's hands moved to hold your hips down, pinning you to the bed as he continued, his tongue delving into you, his nose brushing against your clit as he worked, utterly consumed by the taste of you.

He was lost in it, in you, his tongue moving faster, his mouth desperate as he devoured you.

You gasped, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer, your body trembling beneath him. The heat built inside you, coiling tighter and tighter, until you felt like you might break apart. His name fell from your lips, a breathless plea, and he groaned in response, the vibrations sending a shockwave of pleasure through you.

Your back arched off the bed, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as you felt yourself teetering on the edge, your body ready to fall apart under his touch.

Your first orgasm washed over you without warning, a blinding wave of pleasure that left you feeling weightless, your entire body trembling as you came undone beneath him. You melted into the bed like butter, your limbs going limp as the intensity of it left you breathless.

Charlie's mouth moved against you with a fervent hunger, drinking in every bit of your release as if it were the most sacred offering.

A small whimper escaped your lips as the sensation grew overwhelming, your body growing sensitive to his touch. He didn't stop, his tongue moving lazily, drawing out every last bit of pleasure from you, his mouth still savoring you.

Your grip on his head shifted, your fingers now pushing at him, trying to get him to stop, but his hands only gripped your thighs tighter, keeping you in place. "W-Wait..." The heat in your stomach was already starting to build again, the slow, deliberate movements of his tongue igniting another fire deep within you.

Charlie groaned against you, the sound vibrating through your core, his face buried even further between your legs, his tongue relentless.

Your breath came in quick, shallow gasps, your body trembling once more as the pleasure built. You could feel another orgasm approaching, your mind spinning as you tried to form words, but all that left your throat were broken, incoherent sounds—static that filled the room as you babbled.

You tried to scoot back, to move away from the overwhelming sensation, but Charlie's strong arms wrapped around your hips, yanking you back down, his grip unyielding. His own hips pressed into the bedding below, his desperation evident as he devoured you.

You teetered on the edge once more, the pleasure too much, too intense, until it finally broke over you again, your body arching, your mind going completely blank as you came undone a second time.

The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the sensation of his mouth on you, the heat, the pressure, the overwhelming ecstasy that left you gasping for air.

As you came down from your high, your body trembling, Father Charlie finally pulled back, his lips and chin glistening. He stared up at you with dark, lidded eyes, his expression filled with hunger, with desire that seemed insatiable.

There was no hesitation, no regret—only a raw need that made it clear he no longer cared about going against his vows, no longer cared about the priesthood or what was right.

All that mattered to him was you.

A/N: i'm sorry, i just watched Grotesquerie last night and i've become obssessed.... ugh, the tension between father charlie and sister megan is just *chefs kiss* it's clear that megan is obviously meant to be y/n and the screenplay was written in the intent of it being catered to the female gaze because wheeeeww 😩...

[bi-writes]

Could we get some Simon POV on mail order bride reader? Perhaps his thoughts on how timid she is?? Pls and thanks!

mail-order bride

it is something that he knows as soon as you step over the threshold for the very first time. he's observant to a fault; he can't be surprised by anything because he pays too much attention to the small details, to the things no one gives a second glance.

the way your head whips around when a loud noise carries across the room. the way you jump when you weren't expecting him behind you, crowding your space. the soft way you talk, the way you constantly try to make yourself disappear when there are others in your vicinity.

it speaks volumes, this kind of behavior. this intense need to appease others, to not disturb them, tiptoeing to gauge reaction to make sure you haven't done anything wrong, that you haven't upset anyone.

simon knows this kind of timidness all too well. he sees the veil that you wear, the kind that flutters when a hand is raised; he recognizes it, and you are a reflection of a woman that he used to know.

a woman he used to look up to. one that he loved, and one that loved him back.

the more time he spends with you, the more unlike himself he feels, the more aware he is of the other half of himself that is so far away from him, a stranger. never in simon's life has he felt that same burning anger. he's never felt the need to make those around him afraid. he's never relished in being the bigger man, the stronger one--and when the voices get loud enough, he still remembers being the boy who hid under his bed until he was too big to fit underneath it.

so he makes his steps louder. he shuffles his feet on the carpet. he makes them heavier, soft thuds that can be heard in the hardwood of the kitchen.

he makes noise. in whatever room he's in, he makes it known. the clatter of his toothbrush into its holder. the metal scratch of hangers as he gets a jacket. the clatter of a mug in the sink. the thunk of his boots by the door.

you stop flinching. you stop looking over your shoulder. the sounds of his boots coming off, it brings you into the living room to greet him. when you hear his toothbrush in the bathroom, you shuffle inside so you can stand beside him and do the same. when you hear him in the kitchen, you always pad into the room, giving him those big, soft eyes and asking him for the millionth time if he needs help (no, go fuckin' sit down, too pretty to be workin').

there is a woman in simon's life who used to do the same. who used to be too scared of the world to ever live in it. who never got the chance to unlearn all of the ugly that the wrong man had taught her.

simon grabs the canvas bags in the closet, tossing them over his shoulder as he makes his way to the door.

"we're goin' t'be late," simon calls out. "won't 'ave the bread y'like 'f we don't leave now."

"coming! coming!"

you hurry into the living room, shrugging on your cardigan as you go for your purse hanging by the front door. you slip into your shoes, following simon as he walks out the door.

when simon makes his way down the steps, he expects to have to tell you to stop, to let him walk down the steps first so he can give you his hand; but when he turns, you're waiting there at the top of the steps, fiddling with your purse. he holds out his hand, and you take it on instinct, without even looking, letting him guide you until you've made it to the pavement and can walk to the car.

and when you make it to the passenger side, you're standing at an angle, putting your earrings on as you wait for simon to open your door.

as you wait.

after simon pulls the seatbelt around you and clicks it closed, he lingers, staring at you as you try and fix your hair in the rearview mirror. you pause, looking down at him, giggling.

"what is it, simon? i-is there something on my face?"

he sighs deeply, shaking his head. he lifts a hand, cupping your cheek, swiping a thumb under your eye before stepping back to close your door.

"no," simon mutters. "look bloody perfect."

there's no past with you. only present.

[bbangtans]

daybreak | jjk | oneshot teaser

Summary: One of your favorite things to do when you were in your early 20s was stay up late where reflective conversations eventually blurred into nonsense as the sun rose alongside someone you thought you would spend the rest of your days with… Now you’re stuck in New York City for one night due to a delayed flight with that very person standing there in his leather jacket and guitar case in hand across from you at the airport gate. See, fate is a funny thing and Jeon Jungkook could always find the humor in anything.

pairing: rockstar!ex!jk x f!reader genre/tropes: angst, fluff, exes to ???, right person wrong time/second chances, jungkook is so romance film lead coded – charismatic and well-spoken and genuine and ughhhhh i be fawning frrrr, this takes place where both jk and reader are 28ish, jk is a lead singer in a band with tae-jimin-yoongi, and y/n is a working professional rating/warnings: M | alcohol consumption, lots of swearing, semi-public sex, unprotected sex (don’t be all willy nilly with this tho!!!), dig bick jk lmfao, oral (f receiving), heavy petting, multiple orgasms. a/n: inspired by my faaaaaave movie before sunrise bc if there’s anything namjoon and i have in common, it’s that we are yearners 🤝 word count: ~10k POSTED: link

You cursed every cliched metaphor referencing the elusiveness of time… the grains of sand slipping through fingertips, the ticking of clock hands that echo in the back of your head, the passage of breezes, and the eventual rising of the morning sun. 

Jungkook smiled gently, wiping away a tear with his thumb which you didn’t even feel form as it fell down your cheek. “Don’t worry.”

“I just want you to know that I loved being in this moment. Sharing this night with you, that tonight it felt like New York was all ours. I could have never seen its beauty and experienced its magic the way I did with you.” Barely managing through your cries, you gasped for a breath as you tried to make out the next words. “But why did things have to turn out this way?”

The loud caws of the seagulls as they flew over the pier and the cold morning air fell onto forgotten senses as the only thing you could feel was the intensity of Jungkook’s stare on you. From your forehead that he placed a tender kiss upon, to your eyes that mirrored that silent longing his contained, the nose that he nuzzled against his, and chin that he held softly in his rough hand… It was like he was taking a picture of you at that moment. A moment where he was not rockstar Jeon Jungkook, but the Jungkook who always found a way to make you laugh and the Jungkook you dreamed of sharing matching rings with. And you were not the person living too fast for anyone to keep up with, but a person who could find the beauty in anything and the person that Jungkook could write a million and one songs about.

“Shh,” he comforted you as his arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest. “I really can’t thank you enough for tonight… I’ve never hated to see morning as much as I do now.” He chuckled dryly at the irony of all. 

You pulled back, surprising the man who towered over you. You held his confused face in your hands and smiled. “Me, too. I hope you know that.”

“I do now…” He whispered as though louder words could break the moment before placing a chaste kiss on one of the hands that cupped his face.

“Now what?” Your hands fell from his face and rested on his chest. 

Jungkook sighed in contemplation as he peered past you into the blossoming orange horizon before recentering his eyes on you and grin losing its warmth and being replaced with sadness. “Good morning, I guess.”

The gravity of the situation settled upon you both silently.

“None of that dramatic ‘goodbye’ shit in the morning!” You tipsily pointed at Jungkook with your beer who only laughed at your theatrics as some foam spilled.

Between chuckles, Jungkook was barely able to let out. “Okay, then what do we say at the end? When it’s morning?”

“What people always say at that time – ‘good morning’ and not goodbye. Let’s make it a nice ending for us, I feel like that would do us both justice.” Your gaze was too hazy to see the seriousness that lined his face but he shook it off and plastered his signature smile despite the storm in his heart. “I know it’s a little cheesy, but I don’t want to be sad in those last minutes with you.”

“Okay, we’ll bid each other ‘good morning’ when dawn comes then we go on with the rest of our lives. No sad stuff.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah, I promise.”

“Good morning, Jungkook.” No matter how dazzling your smile was, Jungkook could never be distracted from the tears that lined your gorgeous eyes. 

No physical closeness could ever combat the weight of what daybreak meant for you both.

[jjkamochoso]

Rotten Right to the Core

Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Sanemi Shinazugawa x f!reader

Inspired by Charlie XCX’s song “Apple”; Sanemi worries about the traits he’s inherited from his parents…

Warnings: cussing, yelling, mentions of abuse, mentions of blood

[I guess the apple don't fall far from the tree/'Cause I've been looking at you so long/Now I only see me/I wanna throw the apple into the sky/Feels like you never understand me/So I just wanna drive/To the airport, the airport/The airport, the airport]

Each year as Sanemi grew older, he became more nervous to look at his reflection, afraid of what he might see. Would he retain the soft features of his mother? Or would his father’s presence haunt him as he stared into the eyes that reminded him of everything bad in this world? He hated feeling this way. Sometimes he would get so angry that he would break the mirror, desperate to erase the possibility of seeing the ghost of his father ever present on his face. After his rampage would finish, you were always there to dutifully clean up the mess, both physically and mentally. He was your lover, after all; taking care of each other was part of your promises to one another.

Today was one of those days where Sanemi grappled with his self worth.

Thankfully you were home, not having been sent on a demon slaying mission yet. As soon as you heard the crashing of broken glass, you prepared yourself for what was to come. Sanemi was a good husband—a great one, actually—and you knew that he had a violent upbringing. That’s why you never got upset at these outbursts; you couldn’t begin to understand how it felt to see the face of the man who brought your family so much pain look back at you every day of your life. You grabbed a dustpan and a broom on your way to the upset Wind Pillar.

“I’m coming in,” you said quietly, knocking on the door and opening it. You were met with Sanemi gripping the edge of the counter, his knuckles white with fury underneath the layers of blood dripping from his cut skin. The glass on the floor could wait—he needed to be bandaged. You opened the medical kit and dug through for tweezers and gauze. Sanemi stayed silent, still seething. He wouldn’t meet your eyes, ashamed at making such a mess. You didn’t care, though, you never did.

“I’m going to clean you up first and then I’ll get the glass, okay?” you told him, gesturing him to take a seat away from the damage he dealt. You sanitized the wounds on his knuckles before getting to work on extracting the small pieces of glass from the cuts. He barely flinched as you did this, making you frown. He must’ve been extra upset this time. When you started the bandaging process, he finally spoke up.

“I look like him. I hate it.” His voice trembled with fury. “I can’t stand knowing I’ll never be able to escape him.”

You listened intently in case he wanted to say something else, but he went quiet again. You were all done wrapping him up and placed a loving kiss on the freshly bandaged hand.

“You’re not him,” you whispered. “You’ve never raised a hand to me. You’ve never hurt me.”

Sanemi let out a humorless laugh, pulling his hand from your grasp. “Is that the standard for good husbands nowadays? What a joke.”

He abruptly stood, leaving the room. You sighed, knowing it was going to be a long day. You wished you had all the right things to say to him, anything to convince him that he’s not a carbon copy of his deadbeat dad, but you were at a loss. The only thing you could do was let him get his anger out elsewhere and he’d come to you when he was ready. You got down on your hands and knees and began to clean up the glass, careful not to cut yourself. You heard heavy footsteps re-enter the room.

“What are you doing?” Sanemi barked out.

“I’m cleaning up.”

“Would you stop? I can do it myself.”

You frowned again. “I know, I’m just trying to help.”

“Just stop, okay? I don’t need your pity!”

You ignored him and went back to your task at hand. That sent Sanemi over the edge.

“Seriously, get the fuck up. I said I’ll do it!”

You weren’t phased by his raised voice. “And I said I’m helping.”

Sanemi just stared at you, his chest heaving with heavy breaths. All of a sudden he stopped, his bloodshot eyes widening at the memory that entered his mind.

His father’s cup sloshed around with his alcohol of choice for the night. In one drunken movement, he spilled the contents onto the floor.

His mother lowered her eyes. “I’ll clean that right away.”

She took hold of the nearest rag and got down on her hands and knees, but his father didn’t care for her kindness, grabbing her roughly by the arm and hoisting her up before throwing her to the side.

“Get up! Do you think I’m some sort of useless child?” he screamed. “I can use a rag you idiot. I don’t need your help!”

“Sanemi? Are you-”

“You’re just like her,” he choked out. “You’re just like her and I’m just like him.”

You didn’t know what memory spurred that reaction but you figured it was a bad one. You reached out to comfort him but he was gone in an instant. You heard the front door slam shut and you knew he would be gone until evening. He couldn’t stand to be in the same vicinity as you during times like these when you reminded him of his mother as he was acting like his father. He couldn’t stand knowing he could never truly rid himself of the tendencies that were passed down from the man he was unfortunate enough to be born to.

[I guess the apple could turn yellow or green/I know there's lots of different nuances/To you and to me/I wanna grow the apple, keep all the seeds/But I can't help but get so angry/You don't listen to me/To the airport, the airport/The airport, the airport/I'm gonna drive, gonna drive all night/I'm gonna drive, gonna drive all night]

Sanemi hurried out the door, desperately needing air and wanting to put as much space as he could between himself and you. He couldn’t believe he let himself get so angry, especially at you. The recollection of his father yelling at his mother the same way he had just done to you was a grim realization for Sanemi that he was following in his father’s footsteps. He picked up his sword and began hacking away, channeling his frustrations into obliterating the training dummy. The more he thought about his previous actions, the more he raged, howling winds swirling around him in an outward reflection of the storm inside himself. He had completely lost himself in his fury, only halting when the dummy was chopped into tiny pieces. The scene in front of him was reminiscent of the one he left inside; yet again, Sanemi proved he only knew violence. He threw his sword away from him, disgusted with his actions, before falling to his knees and shoving his face in his hands. Why couldn’t he have been more like his mother? Calm, caring, loving. She was the light in the perpetual darkness of his father. Weren’t his hands, though calloused and stained with blood (literally and figuratively), capable of handling things with grace and a nurturing touch? Why, instead, was he destined to destroy everything? Or—even worse—was this not destiny in play, but his own choices leading him to blaze through life and hurt everyone close to him? He knew he had the ability to choose love and show the softer side of his personality, he had done it plenty of times in the past. You, his loving wife, had made it easier for Sanemi to follow a more peaceful path, encouraged him to embrace his kinder side, yet he still found himself vexed over little things too often for his liking. It was like vengeance and anger were innate needs, something he couldn’t give up no matter how hard he tried. You deserved better than him; he had made that clear from the very start of your relationship. You didn’t believe him for one second, knowing he had goodness in his heart as he had shown glimpses of his affectionate nature many times. The protective walls he had constructed inside himself were there for a reason but you often broke through them, Sanemi never understanding why you would commit yourself to such a grueling task with no reward at the end (you would disagree as being loved by him was the greatest reward you could ever want). Countless nights were spent by him wondering why you continued to be married to someone like him. He saw no positives for you in your union and when he expressed that, those were the only times it was you who was angry rather than him.

[I think the apple's rotten right to the core/From all the things passed down/From all the apples coming before/I split the apple down symmetrical lines/And what I find is kinda scary/Makes me just wanna drive

I wanna know where you go/When you're feeling alone/When you're feeling alone, do you…]

Sanemi had stayed crumpled on the ground until the sun threatened to dip below the horizon, signaling that nightfall was arriving soon. He gingerly walked inside the house, not wanting to disturb the peaceful atmosphere that came with his absence. It was dark in every room, save for the few candles you left burning in the kitchen to signal the plate of dinner you had left out for him. Sanemi’s stomach was in knots; he had left you all alone yet you still cooked his favorite food for him.

Some husband I am.

He savored the bites of ohagi as he sat in silence, wondering where you were. Had you finally had enough of him and left? No, you wouldn’t do that without telling him first. You were many things but you certainly weren’t heartless. Worry started settling into him as the sun wasted away. You shouldn’t be out after dark. Sure, you were a demon slayer, but he’d seen the most talented members of the corps slain when they were caught off guard. He gulped down the last of his food and took off in a hurry; to where, he didn’t know. He had no idea where you went when he would storm out. Cussing under his breath, he checked all the rooms of the mansion again.

“Y/n?” he called out. Nothing. Now he was starting to panic. He yanked one of the extra swords from the cabinet in your shared bedroom and tore through the door to the outside. He investigated the surrounding area, yelling your name but getting no response. His mind was scrambled, his breath scattered.

Where could she be?

As soon as that thought hit his brain, he knew exactly where you were.

He found you in the garden.

You were sitting on a stepping stone, your gaze settling on the flowers surrounding you.

“You shouldn’t be out in the dark. It’s not safe.”

Sanemi’s voice, having lost its harshness, made you smile. He was always worried for others and took on such a protective role; how he couldn’t see the positive impact he had, you didn’t know.

“I have my sword,” you replied, not facing him. “And I have you.”

Sanemi’s face burned at his wife’s saccharine tone. He took up a spot next to you, your shoulders brushing together. He wanted to apologize for his behavior today but he didn’t know how to start.

He was his father’s son: brash, unrelenting, unstoppable.

He was his father’s son: he was a coward.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

He furrowed his brow. “Why the hell are you apologizing? I’m the jerk here.” He took a deep breath, looking off into the distance as he tried to articulate his feelings. “I’m… I’m sorry. For everything. Today and in the past. It sickens me knowing the woman I love has to see the man that I hate.”

You reached out to hold his hand and this time he allowed you to, grasping you with a featherlight touch.

“I’m no good,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I don’t know why you stay.”

He awaited your usual heated response, but it didn’t come.

“Sanemi, look at me.”

You spoke with such authority that he didn’t dare defy you. His white hair resembled the color of the moon, both shiny brightly in the dark of night.

“I love you. All of you. You are not the monster you think yourself to be, not even close. Yes, you have a temper. Yes, you can get incensed on a whim. Those are not the world ending traits you think them to be. You are a good man, Sanemi. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. Maybe then you could understand my love for you.”

Sanemi felt his heart thumping wildly in his chest. You always comforted him in ways he never knew possible, but something about tonight was making your sentiments affect him more than usual.

“From what I know, your father would’ve never owned up to his mistakes,” you continued, using your free hand to rub circles on his back. “You’re already a million times better of a man than he ever was.”

“Do you remember when we found those beetles you love so much?” you asked, earning a confused look from Sanemi as he nodded. “You raised the babies into healthy adults. That takes patience and compassion, both of which you have an abundance of in here.” You poked his exposed chest. “How about the time I was so sick I couldn’t stand? You took care of me all day and night, barely getting a wink of sleep yourself because you were so concerned.”

Sanemi did remember all of that.

“I was so scared you were gonna die,” he mumbled. “I don’t think I could live without you.”

“Those situations are what prove how great of a husband, of a person, you truly are.” You squeezed his hand. “Look inside yourself, my love. You’ll see that there’s traits you inherited from both parents. It’s up to you to decide who you’d rather embody, nothing is set in stone or chosen for you. I think you’ll find you take after your mother more than you think.”

Sanemi got up, brushing off his pants before offering you his hands to grab as he hoisted you up, pulling you into a warm hug. He nuzzled his nose into your neck, taking steadying breaths.

“Thank you,” he muttered, his eyelashes fluttering closed as he held you, “for being by my side. For loving me. For believing in me.”

As he stood there with you, cradling your body with his own, he was reminded of a substantially better memory than the one from that morning.

“Goodnight mommy!” Sanemi had said, his little feet sprinting as he threw himself into his mother’s open arms. She was sporting her large, beautiful grin that he missed seeing so often.

“Goodnight, my child,” she responded, burrowing her nose into his messy hair before placing a gentle kiss there.

He smiled to himself, kissing the top of your head.

I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

[haruchuiyo]

la vie en rose

longing touches and lasting feelings. maybe your feelings for your husband really are reciprocated.

content: NOT SFW + MINORS DNI! + fem!reader + established marriage + implied arranged marriage + reader wears a nightgown + little miscommunication + pining + n!pple stimulation + oral (f!receiving) + handj0b + no protecting we going raw! + neuvillette is so dreamy

word count: 4.7k+

paragraphs in italic is what happened before present time

—

One could say Neuvillette is a blunt man, a harsh one considering his job or a man of few words. But they’d never figure out just how torn apart that said man is over the woman, he’s watching, his lovely and dear wife, smiling as she is talking to her friends.

Or the way his touch seems to linger when he touches your hand, or the small of your back. Or the way his ears redden in colour when you flash him your pretty smile, which he thinks about every minute of the day. Or the way you’re the first thing he thinks about when waking up and the last when going to sleep. Or the way he needs to be close to you at all times. But he still can’t figure out how to show all that to you.

Little does he know about the longing glances you give him, the urges to take his hand in yours and just be with him. To tell him of your day, to tell him how proud you are of him as the Ludex of Fontaine. How much you wish to tell him what you feel for him. Or the way your heart flutters when he simply just looks at you or the way he always holds you to his side in crowd gatherings.

Just how frustrating it was for you two.

You were standing in front of the mirror, trying your best to unlace your gown by yourself since you and your husband Neuvillette sent home the staff for today. Lightly groaning to yourself, you give up and was about to ask Neuvillette for his help but stopped in your tracks. Would he find this okay? Unlacing someone’s gown feels intimate to you. Even if he’s your husband, your marriage has never been consummated because your union as husband and wife was arranged.

You turned to face the door when said man you were thinking about is at the entrance. You must have forgotten to close the door in a haste of wanting to get rid of your gown.

“Sorry, I must have frightened you but I heard some discontent noises as I was passing by. Is everything alright?” He asks as he stands there politely, his hands by his sides as he’s watching you. He looks good in his clothes and you’re fiddling with your hands not knowing what to say but shy to ask him to help you unlace your dress.

“Everything is…quite alright.” You let out an embarrassed chuckle before lightly biting down on your lower lip, missing the way Neuvillette’s eyes fluttered down to your mouth. He’d be damned if you could read into his thoughts, seeing just how much he wishes to take your lips in a kiss.

“Good, I’m glad everything’s alright. Then I shall go and take a rest for tonight.” His voice was polite and your heart is racing. You’re beating yourself up as you see him back away and was about to walk away before you called for him, by his name. He takes steps into your bedroom and reaches closer to you. At your husbands taller figure, you imagine how much you need to stand on your toes to be able to give him a proper kiss on the lips. Or he could lean his head down to meet you halfway. Heart racing at the thought, not helping with your current situation.

You hold your hands together in nervousness. And flustered too, this man is making your heart feel like it’s gonna beat out of its place.

So you turn around and you see your reflection in the mirror. He is so close behind your back and you see how his hands fidget by his side.

“Will you help me with the lace?” You softly ask as you feel his breath hitch. You turn your face to your side to look at him over your shoulder and he slightly nods his head. “Of course, anything.” He answers.

“It’s quite difficult for me to do it alone.” You let out a slight nervous chuckle. And you hear him chuckle from behind you too. And when you feel his hands on the back of your dress, your own breath hitches. And your heart beats and beats the more you feel him untangle the laces at your dress. And when you feel it’s loose, the dress falls down on the floor in a circle around you, leaving you only in your chemise. And you feel how hot Neuvillette feels behind you. So much warmth and heat, you let out a soft gasp when you feel his finger touch your bare back.

At your gasp, he removes his hand in a haste and you groaned to yourself internally for giving such a reaction.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have touched you like that.” He apologized profusely, clearly feeling regretful and you just wanted to yell at him to touch you more and that you don’t mind it. But how brave were you really?

“It’s quite alright.” You shortly say and Neuvillette nodded his head. “Is there more you need help with?” He asks and you shake your head. “No, I be fine but thank you.” At your words, he nods again then leaves your bedroom, leaving you alone in a space he so rightfully has a place in.

—

Neuvillette thinks of the first time he met you. It was the day you two were to meet each other for the first time after deciding you two were to be married.

He was taking a stroll in the mansion when he stumbled upon you, laying on the floor while gazing up at the ceiling. You looked peaceful and Neuvillette found himself wondering what you must be thinking of gazing at that ceiling. He looks up at it as well, seeing the ceiling in intricate ancient designs, the pattern flowering around each other nicely.

He don’t know what took over him, but he took one step that was a bit too loud which startled you. Upon seeing him witnessing you laying on the bare floor, you hastily sat up, your hair a mess and your eyes widened in shock with your dress puffed up around you.

“Mr Neuvillette, I didn’t see you there.” You mutter out an apology after and Neuvillette shakes his head. “Just…just Neuvillette is fine. And it’s quite alright, I should be the one apologizing for disturbing your peaceful time.” He retorts back and you look down on your intertwined fingers, giggling. Neuvillette felt his heart flutter that moment he saw you smile as you giggled.

“May I ask why you’ve taken a spot on the floor?” He asks and you look up at him, surprised.

“If you joined me, you’d see why I’ve done so.” You smile at him and it was Neuvillette’s turn to be surprised. And he gives a nod.

He laid himself on the floor quite politely, patting out his clothes so they don’t tug as he lays down, his head hit the floor gently.

“It’s cold.” He says simply, hearing you chuckle.

He feels how cool the floor is, the weather outside was sunny and warm, making him feel stuffy. And to combine that with his nervousness of meeting his future wife, it didn’t help with the heat.

“And it’s quite nice, isn’t it?” He hears you ask, he turns his head to face you. Your eyes were closed and there was a soft smile on your mouth. You looked serene.

“Indeed, it is.” He mumbles out softly, still watching you.

To think about that day, he realized he’s fallen for you since and doesn’t plan to get up. You’ve had his heart since the first moment he met you, seeing you on the floor gazing up at the ceiling.

And here he is, in your bedroom after you’ve called him in. You’re standing there, awaiting an answer. An answer for your question.

“Do you have feelings for me?” You had asked before he went down the memory lane. You were gripping onto your robe, still in your night clothes. All Neuvillette could think about was why you would ask that of him. And what kind of question is that.

“I don’t know what you mean by that.” He answers, further adding onto your frustration. You let out a soft groan, your eyes wavering as you speak to him.

“I’m asking if you, my husband, have feeling for me. Your wife, Neuvillette. You avoid me like the plague as soon as you’re close to me.” There’s frustration laced in your voice. Neuvillette feels confused, his mind, usually collected is now splattered.

“I’m not avoiding you.” He says. His short answers doesn’t help with your frustration and you could almost feel anger surging up inside you. He usually talks like this, why are you so angry? Maybe because he’s being so short with you when all you want is a proper talk.

“Then explain the way you avoid my touches. How you avoid me as soon as we get close. How you avoid doing things together, alone. How you seem to be at work far more, even been there for days at a week than at home than—.” You explain to him, words spitting out and Neuvillette feels frustrated now as well.

“With you.” He adds onto your last sentence. You nod. “Yes, with me.” Your voice wavered and he feels his heart constrict. He never wanted to make you feel alone. He only did what he thought and thus acted upon it.

“I thought you didn’t want me there.” He tells you and your eyes widen at his words. “You’ve seemed almost unresponsive to my advances and I believed you didn’t like it, so I put a distance.” He explained. He feels sad and frustrated. The amount of times he wanted to hold you, to hold your hands or your body to his. To able to gently hold your face in his hands and kiss you breathlessly.

“Is the only reason you’ve avoided me?” You ask softly.

“No.” He says.

“Then why would you think that?”

“Because your presence makes me feel things.”

At that, you felt the world stop. Make him feel things? Your heart decides to flutter at that moment. About to speak up, your husband beats you to it.

“Lay down on the floor with me, will you?” He asks gently as he lays down on the floor, reaching a hand out to you. You throat dries up as you nod your head and take his hand in yours and lay down beside him on the floor.

“The first time I saw you, you were doing this. Laying on the floor, gazing at the ceiling like it was a work of art, admiring each and every detail and looking at it like how no one ever does.” His voice was soft, as he tells you of the day you two first met. You remember that day clearly. He startled you with the way he stepped so loudly and when he joined you on that cold floor on that sunny day, you’d thought maybe your marriage with him wouldn’t be so bad.

“You’ve had my heart ever since that warm sunny day, my love.” He turns to face you, taking your intertwined hands and placed it on the spot his heart is. “You’ve taken my heart like a storm, making me fall for you every day since. And I tell you, I don’t decide to let these feelings fade.” At his words, your heart constricts and your vision feels almost blurry. You see him reach out his free hand to wipe away your tears. Tears. You’re crying.

“I’m sorry to leave you alone, to make you feel alone because you were not. Even if I wasn’t with you physically, you always had my heart with you. But it doesn’t justify how I left my lovely wife wondering if I love her. Because I do.” He smiles, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs and you let out a soft chuckle, happiness streaming all over in your body.

“I’m sorry, my love. I truly am.” You shake your head at his words. “Don’t be, you have quite made up for it right now.” You tell him with a small grin and Neuvillette smiles at you.

“And I havent been so good to you either, always gasping and flinching as soon as you touch me. And it’s all because you make me feel things as well. And things only you can —“ You have no idea what made you look into his eyes, but when you did and what you saw, you felt shivers running down your spine as heat surged up inside you.

“—fulfill.” you finish with a stuttering voice.

He leans his face in closer to yours, rubbing his nose against your own. Your heart beats faster and your stomach a fluttering mess. When he lightly grazes his lips on yours, seeing how you didn’t back away, he presses his mouth against yours taking you in for a kiss.

His mouth was soft, lips moving leisurely against your own. You can’t believe you missed out on this all these months since the wedding day. A first proper kiss with your husband. A breathless one. When he tilts your head upwards for better access, you moan into the kiss and you feel him move his body closer to yours, pressing his front against your own. And he pulls away, leaving you both lightly panting.

“Do you wanna take this to bed?” You shyly mumble. You see his cheeks lightly redden in color before he nods, leaving you a hot mess.

Laying down on the bed, resting your back against stacks of pillow, Neuvillette was inbetween your thighs. You see him gulping on air as his eyes flicker all over of you. You had taken off your robe, leaving you only in your white nightgown. You looked breathtaking in the nightgown, the gown hugging your body so perfectly. You reach your hand out, to hold onto his and tugging on towards you. He moves closer to you, you shudder feeling his warmth, looking up at him, nervous but excited.

Neuvillette felt his heart beat so fast when his chest pressed against yours but he felt relieved when your arms circled around his neck, your breast snuggled against his chest and he kisses you again.

Both of you moaning into the kiss, you felt your husband move his hands up and down your sides, holding your waist before groping onto the flesh the more your kiss deepened. Neuvillette wasn’t sure what it was that made him act upon it, but he believes it was an instinct to move his body against yours, rubbing his throbbing erection against your heat.

Trembling against him, moans slips past your mouth when you felt him rub up against you while he slid his tongue deep into your throat, the kiss sticky and loud but so good. He nips on your lower lip, kisses the corner of your mouth before placing one another kiss on your lips again before pulling away. You lightly groan, missing his kisses then you see how he’s trailing his hands up to the straps of your dress, his gentle touches making you shudder in anticipation and then he pulls them down your shoulders. The upper half of your nightgown slips down your body and you look at Neuvillette to see his reaction. He’s enamoured with the sight in front of him.

He brushes his fingers lightly over your perky buds, his eyes glancing at your face when you gasp softly at his air light touch on your tits. Then he rubs his thumb over your nipples before reaching his face down to take a bud into his mouth. Your back arches at the feeling of his tongue licking and flickering your nipple with the tip of his tongue, while his hand plays with your other nipple. Your hands go to grasp onto his blue horns and when he sucks on your nipple, you lightly pull on his Neuvillette’s hair, tilting his head back making him groan against your tit. Then he gives the same attention to your other one, sensations running all over your body with the way he works his tongue on your tits. Before he pulls away, he kisses the mound softly, nipping before lightly biting down on the skin, leaving a mark. He looks at the bite mark he left and feels proud of himself.

You tug on his nightshirt, telling him to take it off. Obeying your demands, your husband takes his nightshirt off and you see his blue dragon tattoos on his arms up to his shoulders, the pattern swirly but so beautiful.

“So pretty.” You mumble softly as you touch the pattern before looking up at him. His eyes glistens and his face seems to flush in colour. He takes his breeches off, leaving him in his undergarments only. Your eyes flicker down to the clear erection on his undergarments and your body flushes in heat.

You sigh in content when you feel Neuvillette touch the edge of your nightgown before holding onto your thighs, making you slide on the bed and be pulled towards him. You giggle at the action then see how your husband has a serious face on. You reach a hand out to touch his face, he nuzzles his face into your palm like it was a reflex and kisses the inside of your palm before looking at you.

“What is it?” You ask gently while stroking his cheek. He lightly shakes his head then gives up and starts sighing. You get confused at his reaction before his words both surprises you but also makes you flustered.

“We haven’t consummated our marriage.” He says and you gulp on nothing as you nod in agreement. At his words alone and the way he turns quiet when you nodded, you get what he’s trying to say. If you want to consummate it now. Asking for your consent about it. Your heart flutters at his caring gesture and you cup his face with both your hands and pull him down towards you.

“I have wanted you since we met, dear husband.” You softly say against his mouth and Neuvillette’s eyes widens in surprise. “Really?” He asks and you giggle, pulling away while giving him an expression of ‘you’re so silly’.

“Of course silly, I wore a cute nightgown on our wedding night but you didn’t see it.” You tell him softly and he lightly pouts. “Can you show it to me next time?” He asks and you giggle again, kissing the tip of his nose before nodding.

“Next time.” You confirm and he smiles at you before nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. Then kisses the spot there before trailing kisses down your throat to your cleavage. He pushes the nightgown down along the way as he kisses. He takes it off when he reaches your navel, you lift your legs up so the dress is off you properly. And now you’re bare in front of him and he can’t stop looking and touching.

His fingers trail along your body shape, he lightly squeezes your tits feeling the weight in his hands, muttering so many ‘beautiful’ as he explores your body. All you could do was take in the good feelings his touches gave you and how good it felt hearing his praises.

You pull on his undergarments before tugging them down his thighs and he takes them off properly before seating himself in between your thighs again. His cock sat prettily against his lower abdomen, there was a slight precum on the tip. Before you could stare at it further, Neuvillette kisses you on the mouth then presses more kisses down your entire front to your cunt.

“May i?” He asks, his hot breath fanning over your bare cunt. “Yes.” You breathe out before your toes curl onto the sheets when he take a tentative lick over your pussy before flicking his tongue over your clit. The sensations too much, you push the heels of your feet into his back as you grip onto his hair. His licking is ravening. If you just try to squeeze your thighs in on his face, he pulls them further apart not letting you move your limbs at all.

He rocks his bare erection against the sheet, moaning at the way you taste in his mouth and how you so tightly grip on his hair. Then he pulls a single finger in and hears you gasp from above him. When he slides in another finger, he feels your thighs shudder while you let out sweet noises and moans after another, his favorite sounds in the world. He keeps thrusting his fingers inside you as he sucks and licks on your clit before sending you over the edge.

You came so hard all you could do was stare up at the ceiling panting. You missed out on all this all these months of not touching your husband? You internally beat yourself before looking down, seeing Neuvillette still inbetween your thighs, softly kissing the inside of it and giving your cunt one last kiss before he moves up and connects his chest with yours. You see his chin is wet with your cum and the way he licks his lips before he takes your lips in a kiss, making you taste yourself on his tongue. He pulls away with panting and moans while leaning his head against your shoulder when he feels you take his cock in your hands and move your hand up and down it.

“Darling, if you keep that up I might not be able to contain myself anymore.” His words are strained as he moans against your neck while gripping onto your waist. He lightly thrusts into your hand, feels you rub the tip and he groans and comes with a bite on your skin. Spurts of cum lands on your stomach as Neuvillette breathes hard. When he sees his cum on your body, he is finding his virility outstanding. But when he sees you lightly spread his cum on your abdomen to your cunt, his breath hitches and he looks at your face. You’re biting on your lower lip with an expression of you clearly know what you’re doing and how it’s affecting him.

So he takes your mouth in a messy kiss and you squeeze your thighs around his waist and he rubs his cock against your bare cunt. You moan against his lips when you feel him brush up against your clit and you swear you felt the tip almost slip inside. You whimper against his mouth before he pulls away. He holds his weight on one arm as the other holds onto his cock and he looks at you, you nod your head and he takes that as consent to slide inside your heat.

Slowly by slowly, he fills you up. Every second of that has you gripping onto his shoulders, digging your nails into his shoulder blades until he is fully inside you. Neuvillette lets out a deep breath and looks at you.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” His voice is soft and curious, his touches gentle on your skin as he waits for your answer. Your body flushes at his question. “At the thought of you?” You ask quietly. There was a small silence before you see a slight nod from his head. “Yes.” Your answer was simple yet you felt so flustered. You let out a slight gasp when you feel how his cock inside you, feels like it’s growing bigger. “Oh-“ you didn’t manage to say anything when you feel how Neuvillette is softly pressing down on your abdomen.

Feeling him grow bigger inside you has you feeling a lot at once and your honest answer to his question adds onto the streams of pleasure in your body. You cover your face feeling flustered and shy, he gently uncovers your face, planting a deep kiss on your lips, you moan when you feel him twitch inside you.

“Don’t ever cover yourself around me.” He says against your skin, nipping softly at your sensitive spots before he slowly thrusts inside making you moan while holding onto his tighter. Your hands trail up to grip onto his hair as he continues to thrust into you, his cock hitting sweetly inside you.

He grabs onto your arms and pins them against the bed, his knees pressing into the mattress as he continues to thrust deeper and deeper inside you, hitting places you’d never think off to do yourself.

He reaches down by your ears murmuring sweet praises of ‘such a good wife’, ‘you feel so good’ and ‘taking me so well’. When he mutters “I’ve been dreaming about this every night.” You claw onto his back, stimulations running up and down your body at his words as he holds onto both of your arms with one hand, while his other goes to knead onto your tits, loving the feeling of their weight in his hands.

You arch your back when you feel him take a nipple in his mouth, kissing the bud and you squeeze your thighs tighter around his waist at the way he’s having you. Then he pulls away to kiss you, the kiss so messy and of fervour. You feel Neuvillette all around you. So big and so safe while he’s driving you crazy with the way he’s moving his hips against you, so in control of his body and the way he’s kissing you like a man starved.

You just take it all in, kissing equally as fervently back and snap your thighs around his slender waist tighter as he pounds into your cunt harder and harder. You feel him reach a hand down to rub on your clit and you moan against his mouth, feeling this knot in your abdomen about to release the more he rubs onto your clit and fucks into your harder until the knot releases and you cum hard. You cry out a moan, gripping onto his hair as you come and Neuvillette joins you shortly after, groaning against your lips with his eyes shut close in ecstasy and holds your hips with both of his hands and cums into you. He fills you up to the brim with his cum while gripping onto your hips.

Then you feel him panting against you, his warm breath on your face and you see him open his eyes and he looks all over you with a blush on his face, sweat visible on his forehead and his hair messy from your constant grasps on it. He tucks your hair behind your ear as he smiles you before you let out a breathy giggle and he finds you so endearing.

“What is so funny, my love?” He brushes his nose against yours, trailing the tip of his nose down your face to your jaw while still inside you. You hum in content before lightly chuckling.

“Was thinking that I missed out on this for so long, could’ve solved our little miscommunication so easily.” You grin at him and Neuvillette stills in surprise before his face looks like they’re filled with amusement.

“Or I should’ve done this the day we got married.” He tells you and you pretend to ponder playfully while humming. “Yeah you should have.” You nod your head and Neuvillette chuckles as you grin at him. He holds your face softly as he runs his thumbs over your cheeks, looking at you fondly and with so much love. Your heart flutters and you wrap your arms around his upper body, hugging him to yourself.

“I love you, and I will tell and show you that everyday.” He presses a kiss on your lips. “For the rest of my life.” He kisses you again and you giggle.

“And I shall love you for the rest of my life as well.” You tell him and Neuvillette smiles at you before turning you two around so you were atop him. As he did that, you felt him move inside you. You lightly whine in pleasure and you felt him swell up and twitch inside you. You widen your eyes and when you feel reach his hands down your butt, you lightly yelp resulting in you squeezing around him. Neuvillette lets out a soft groan before he looks at you, his eyes wandering from your face, lips to your tits down to the bite mark he left before his fluttered up yours, a slight gasp leaves your mouths when you feel move your hips, him still lodged inside you.

“Oh, you bewitch me, my lovely wife.”

—

this was a long piece of just going raw damn-

hope you enjoyed this! if you’ve come this far, a reblog and like would be incredibly appreciated<3

[mynameismckenziemae]

Every Part of You

Bob Floyd x Female Reader

Summary: Bob shows you how much he loves your body; curves and all. Based on this prompt (thanks @phoenix-rising-starbird-one for the idea!).

Rating: Explicit! This is intended for adults (18+) only! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Warnings: smut, dom!Bob, body worship, cum play, ass play, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, spanking, uniform kink, mirror sex, body insecurity. I think that’s it.

Please note-reader is curvy and has hair long enough to pull. If that offends you, don’t read.

.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.

"Come in," you call when the doorbell rings, knowing it's Bob, "I'm in here."

"Sorry I'm late, that last hop took longer than expected," he replies, toeing his off shoes by the door before entering the living room, "I haven't showered yet either, couldn't wait any longer to see you...”

He trails off when he sees you biting your lip, looking him up and down like he's a piece of meat.

You thought he was cute when you met him on the beach in a tee shirt and swim trunks, more so later when he had put jeans and a sweatshirt on for the bonfire. Handsome when he wore slacks and a button down on the first date, sexy when he woke you up with breakfast in bed the next morning in nothing but gray sweatpants.

The bottom line is he always looks good. But in service khakis? He's downright mouth-watering.

"I've never seen you in uniform," you murmur as you rise, fingers tracing the color ribbons on his chest, “you look good, Bobby."

"You think so?" His lip quirks before he brushes his lips over yours.

You nod as you wait for him to kiss you, but instead, he kisses the side of your mouth down to your jaw, shivering at the smell of his clean sweat and jet fuel.

"You look good too, honey," he murmurs, his big strong hands finding your legging-clad ass to squeeze, "love your ass in these."

A bashful smile tugs at your lips as he continues his assault on your neck as he walks you back towards the couch, lifting the oversized tee over your head.

Bob loves your body; even the fuller, thicker, and squishier parts you hate. But when you open your eyes and see your reflection in the large mirror in the corner beside the couch, those parts are all you can focus on.

"Let's-ah," you sigh breathlessly when he nips your collarbone, reaching around your back to unclasp your bra, but you hold it up by the cups before it can fall. "Can we take this to the bedroom?"

Where the late afternoon sun isn't steaming in through the sheer curtains, and there are blankets to cover up with.

Your back arches when he sucks a bruise there before opening his eyes, brow furrowing when he finds yours focused on your soft belly instead of him.

"Nah," he replies, continuing when your eyes flick to his in the reflection, "I want you right here. Right now."

Oh.

"Why do you want to go to the bedroom?" He asks though, sensing your hesitation.

"I don't know," you lie, looking away and focusing on the tan buttons of his shirt, "it's just... kind of bright out here."

"Which is exactly why I want to stay," he tilts your chin, forcing you to look at him, "so I can see your beautiful body."

Without thinking, you huff out a laugh of disbelief and your eyes roll before widening at your rudeness.

"Sorry, that was-"

"Disrespect of a superior officer," he interrupts with an exhale, slowly shaking his head.

His body language shifts in an instant as he straightens. Gone is your sweet, easy-going boyfriend. The man who stands before you radiates a quiet, but unyielding confidence.

Arousal races through you at the change.

“I’m sorry Bobby,” you gulp at the new, almost predatory look in his eyes, “I’m just-“

“Just digging yourself in deeper with your fake apologies?” He finishes for you while he gently pulls your hands away from your chest, letting the bra from your arms, “and it’s ‘sir’ to you.”

You choke back a whimper and your nipples tighten in response to his request-no, his order.

“Put your hands on the mirror,” he says, lightly flicking your nipple before stepping back.

You take a shaky breath in before doing as asked, looking at the floor instead of your flushed face and naked breasts.

“I’ve let this behavior go on too long,” he says, slowly pacing behind you, “it ends today.”

“Wha beha-“ you cut off with a gasp when his hand slaps your ass, the thin material of your leggings offering no protection.

“I don’t want to hear anything from your pretty lips besides ‘yes sir’, ‘no sir’, or ‘stop’ if I do anything you don’t like. Do you understand?”

Your heart is about to beat out of your chest as you nod, which earns you another spank.

“Use your words.”

“Yes sir,” face burning at the way your voice shakes.

“That’s what I like to hear”, he replies, the smile evident in his voice as he pulls your leggings over your ass. “Pretty,” he whispers as his fingers follow the lace of your thong down your cheeks, chuckling when he feels how soaked they are taking them off too, “wet too, but you won’t be needing these either.”

He pulls your hips back into his to rub his clothed erection over your ass before sliding his hand up your spine, making you arch your back. His hand slides into the back of your hair and you whimper when he grips the roots, guiding your head up.

“Eyes on me,” he says lowly. Only his erection and the faint pink staining his cheeks give away how affected he is.

“Yes sir,” you whisper.

“I love every single part of you,” he punctuates it with a roll of his hips, “your beautiful eyes that I too often get lost in. Pouty lips that get me hard just from thinking about how they stretch around my cock,” his hand releases your hair, coming around to brush his thumb over them. He sucks in a breath when your tongue darts out to lick it.

“Your neck, God. Don’t know how many times I’ve thought about how good it would look with my hand around it,” his hand trails lower, making your eyes flutter when he lightly squezes. “The way your arms wrap around me in my sleep. Never knew I’d like being the little spoon,” he smiles into your neck as his hands slide down your arms to your hands, “the soft hands that fit perfectly in mine, that feel so good on my cock, this finger” he taps your left ring finger, “will have to hold up the rock I’m gonna put on it someday.”

Your already-pounding heart skips a beat at that. You’ve only been dating for 2 months.

“These,” he grunts, cock surging against your ass when he cups your breasts, “the way these full, gorgeous tits bounce when I fuck you, God. And the little sound you make when I do this,” he pinches your nipples and makes your breath catch, “yeah, that’s the sound. Sensitive pretty nipples. Could suck on ‘em all day.”

“Please?” You whine, eyes falling closed.

He steps away and you shiver when the heat from his body is gone too.

Your body jolts and your eyes fly open when his hand comes down on your ass a second later.

“Is ‘please’ one of the words I said you could say?” He asks after spanking your right cheek twice more.

“No sir!” You shake your head.

“Didn’t think so,” he gives the left side equal treatment before straightening to growl in your ear, “Keep your eyes on me.”

“Yes sir,” you pant, feeling a little lightheaded by how turned on you are. You don’t have to look to know your arousal is leaking down your thighs.

“Love your belly,” he continues, hands resuming their gentle journey like they didn’t just take your breath away with their harsh spanks, “so feminine and soft. Can’t wait to see it round and swollen with my baby inside.”

His nostrils flare as he thinks about fucking a baby into you. You whimper but don’t say a word, keeping your eyes on his.

“And your legs? Christ,” he breathes, rutting into you harder, “strong thighs that wrap around my head when you cum and squeezing tight when I don’t stop.”

It’s a love-hate relationship when he overestimates you like that.

“Hell, I even love it when you put your freezing feet on me to warm them up,” he chuckles, and you smile. He kisses your shoulder before he straightens, “Stay put while I get a condom.”

“No sir,” you blurt, shaking your head.

He gives you a questioning look, “What is it?”

“Take me bare,” you breathe, “I want to feel you without.”

His eyes squeeze closed as his head drops back with a groan. You squirm when he opens them again, hardly any blue is visible with how blown his pupils are.

“Are you sure?” He asks, hands going to his pants button, waiting for your answer.

“Yes sir,” you bite your lip, “We’re both clean.”

“Your period is due in a few days, right?” He asks as he fumbles with his pants before guiding his cock between your legs.

“Yes sir,” you laugh breathlessly that he knows your cycle that well as he pushes in easily even though hasn’t touched you there yet.

“Oh fuck,” his voice gets higher as he feels you for the first time without a barrier, “this pussy was made for me,” he groans, heading lolling back, “You’re so wet and warm.”

Your fingers turn white as your grip tightens on the edge of the mirror, whimpering as he fucks into you with fast, rough thrusts.

“And-and these hips, baby,” he pants, giving away he’s growing close. His fingers flex against them hard enough to bruise, “thick and full and the perfect place to hold while I make a mess of you.”

“Yes!” You nod, catching yourself quickly, “Sir! Yes sir!”

Even without any stimulation to your clit, you could cum like this. If he keeps going just that…

“Ah! Sh-shit!” He gasps, pulling out suddenly.

A strangled whine leaves you as he suddenly pushes between your cheeks to release there and across your lower back. A shiver wracks your body as you feel the warm evidence of his release.

“Mmm,” he hums as he releases your hips, sliding back to cup a cheek in each hand and squeeze, “I love your ass.”

You nod along, hardly listening anymore as your body trembles from being denied release.

“The way it jiggles when I pounds into you from behind,” fingertips trail through his release, gathering it before sliding them between your cheeks. You tense with a sharp inhale when he finds your puckered hole, “How good it’s gonna feel when I fuck it.”

“Yes sir,” you force yourself to relax, sighing at the foreign feeling of being touched there. It helps he’s kissing the sweet spot under your ear.

“I really like the recoil when I spank it,” his spent cock twitches back to life as if to emphasize his point, “which is going to happen whenever I think you need reminding of how much I love your body.”

“Yes sir,” you breathe, deflating a little when he steps away.

But he steps in front of you, “Did you really think I’d leave you wanting?” He drops to his knees with a smirk.

“No s-sir,” you stutter when he leans in to kiss your needy, swollen clit.

“Better not be,” he murmurs hotly against you, “now watch yourself. You need to see how beautiful you are when you cum.”

.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.

Hope ya liked it 🙃

Tagging my Bob girlies:

@lexixstewart

@dizzybee03

@its-the-pilot

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@atarmychick007

@littlezee80

@k-k0129

@jessicab1991

@lonelysoul50

@landpiranha-blog

@fandomology101

@writtingrose

@rascallyrascalreads

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@sorchathered ry

[schlattslambo]

chuckle sandwich x chubby!f/reader smut 18+

oh my god guys my very first post! i really hope you like it! if you have any suggestions or anything for me to write, dont hesitate to send me a message <3

this is unedited btw lmao

schlatt

sfw

this man omg-

he loves his chubby girls

more to love, he always says

constantly has a hand on your thigh, back, wherever. just always has to be touching you

knows that in todays world, its hard to not fit into a ‘beauty standard’

if you ever get insecure, this man will go into protection mode

he’ll stand in front of the mirror with you and point out his favorite parts of you (spoiler: its everything)

nsfw

sit on his face. please.

if you hesitate even a little bit, you’re getting yanked down and held there until you cum at the very least 4 times. if he dies he dies 🤷🏼‍♀️

loves watching your soft body jiggle while he fucks you

lots of body worship

hickeys on your thighs, bruises on your tits from how hard he grabs them

buys you the prettiest lingerie sets just to teat them off you

ted

sfw

this sweet angel of a man

loves your body more than anything

constantly rubs your thighs or tummy subconsciously

always reminds you of how beautiful you are. because its true

if you ever find yourself disliking the reflection you see, ted’s on it

he’s kissing you all over, maybe even grabbing your tummy to tickle you

will not stop until you’re giggling

just stares at you bc thats his fuckin WIFE right there

nsfw

loves when you ride hi

looking up at your gorgeous body while you make yourself come undone for him? heaven

thick thighs = earmuffs

so many kisses everywhere

bites down on your soft flesh just because he can

praises you so much “my beautiful girl” “doing so well for me baby” “thats it, shake for me”

sit in his lap. he doesnt care if you ‘think you’re too heavy’. he will get hard and press up against you with no shame

charlie

sfw

charlie’s a tiny guy, but having a bigger s/o really does not phase him, honestly he loves it. he cuddles you like a koala

will defend you to the ends of the earth

charlie, y/n is kinda…you know.”

“beautiful, amazing, the best? yeah i know!”

loves your tummy

gives it kisses any chance he gets

if you suggest going on a diet, he’s doing it with you

if you want to go to the gym, he’s there supporting you

this man is so in love with you and your body its insane

nsfw

is truly in awe of you

missionary so he can watch your beautiful face (and your tits bounce)

doggy so he can smack your ass and watch it jiggle

begs you (and i mean BEGS, mans is on his knees) to press his head between your thighs while he eats you out

thigh jobs?? yes pLEASE

idk he just really seems like a thigh guy to me. always leaves the most hickeys there

worships the fuck out of you

calls you a goddess before he cums

[floralcyanide]

𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫 - 𝐣𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐞

jonathan crane x f!reader

“I broke apart my insides, I’ve got no soul to sell. The only thing that works for me, help me get away from myself.” “I wanna fuck you like an animal, I wanna feel you from the inside." "You can have my absence of faith, you can have my everything.”

warnings: smut, rough sex, choking, first time, penetrative sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex, spitting, spitballing, cum eating, fingering, oral (f and m receiving), face fucking/ deepthroating, nipple play, orgasm denial, porn with some plot, pwp, wow there's a lot here lol

word count: 2316

authors note: if Dr. Jonathan Crane has a million fans, then I'm one of them. if Dr. Jonathan Crane has one fan, then I'm THAT ONE. if Dr. Jonathan Crane has no fans, that means I'm dead. anyway, I love this man and his character so much, so I had to be feral about him. he's so pretty, and for what??? also Closer by NIN is soooo Jonathan-coded. I don't make the rules. (not beta read, we die like men here)

main masterlist | cillian murphy masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

Six months have passed, and you’ve yet to have any form of sex with your boyfriend, Dr. Jonathan Crane. You get that he’s busy most of the time and doesn’t really hold sex to a high standard like most men do. But god, you wanted him to have your way with you already. Jonathan looks like he was hand sculpted by the gods themselves with his piercing blue eyes, strong jawline, and perfect lips. You’d do anything to have his stunning face between your legs. And you seriously mean anything at this point. Both of you trust each other with your lives. Jonathan has taken a while to open up to you, and the last thing he’s yet to show you about himself is his sexuality. 

For the last week, every time you so much as kiss Jonathan, you get irrevocably turned on. Sometimes he’ll give into you and let his tongue explore your mouth, but then he’ll pull away with a satisfied smirk. It’s almost as if he teases you on purpose. But then again, you doubt Jonathan would do it for this long, purposely depriving you of physical affection. But the things he does, don’t surprise you anymore. He could very well be torturing you without you realizing it. 

Everything changes when you stay at Jonathan’s apartment one night. You take a shower and put on your favorite pair of matching lace underwear and a shirt you stole from Jonathan’s dresser the first time you came over. You have no makeup on, you’ve just finished brushing your teeth for bed, and you haven’t put on any pants as of yet. The hem of the shirt is tucked into your underwear unbeknownst to you. So, when Jonathan walks into his bedroom, he sees you standing in the doorway of the en-suite bathroom with his old white t-shirt inside your bright red underwear. You barely notice his eyes turn three shades darker as you go to rinse your mouth.

Jonathan comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as you’re ducked into the sink, spitting out the remainder of your toothpaste. He presses himself against your ass when it sticks out as you bend over. You don’t pay much attention to Jonathan and him being close to you. He was surprisingly clingy. But when you stand up straight and look at him behind you in the mirror’s reflection, you notice his features are much darker than usual.

“Are you-“ You begin to ask if Jonathan is okay, but before you can finish your sentence, his mouth attaches itself to your neck.

With his hands splayed across your stomach underneath your- his shirt, he pulls your hair away from your shoulder. Jonathan then makes eye contact with you in the mirror as his hands travel up your abdomen to your breasts. He gives them a harsh squeeze as he bites down into the skin between your neck and shoulder. You hiss at the feeling of Jonathan being so close to you, touching you like this. You wonder what’s gotten into him but push that thought aside when his fingertips delve past the lace covering your nipples. You gasp as Jonathan circles one with his index finger, licking up your neck and jaw slowly until he reaches the side of your face.

“You look irresistible,” Jonathan breathes into your ear, nibbling at the lobe.

“And what are you gonna do about it?” you ask, biting your lip in anticipation.

Jonathan picks up and throws you over his shoulder, carrying you over to his bed, where he all but gently throws you onto it. Before you can react, Jonathan is on top of you, ripping your underwear clean off your legs. 

“Let me take care of you, darling,” Jonathan coos, pushing the shirt up and over your head before unclasping your bra next.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this,” you sigh, tugging at his white button-up that he’s yet to change out of.

“I think I have an idea of how long. Show me how bad you want it,” Jonathan says, moving his hands off of you completely.

The urge to rip the man in front of you apart bubbles up in your lower stomach, and you sit on your knees in front of Jonathan. You rip his shirt open, buttons flying everywhere in the room. You leave open-mouthed kisses on his chest as he slides his fingers through your hair, gripping it harshly as he pulls your head back so you can look at him. You stare at him unwaveringly; your eyes half-lidded with growing lust. After studying the smirk on your face, Jonathan lets go of you, and you immediately go for the button and zipper of his trousers. Unbuckling his belt, you yank it out of the belt loops and toss it on the floor. You pull his pants down his hips far enough for you to get where you want. Pulling Jonathan’s cock out, you marvel at it momentarily before taking his head into your warm mouth. There was no way you’d be able to take all of him without gagging, but you’re going to try anyway. You’ve waited too long for this.

“Fuck,” Jonathan keens as you swivel your tongue around him, gathering his precum.

He realizes he’s definitely waited too long for this.

But he has been nervous about being vulnerable around you. He actually cares about you, believe it or not. And doesn’t want to hurt you- not severely, anyway. Only as much as you’ll let him. 

Before Jonathan can tell you to hurry up and take his cock, you slam your nose into his pelvis, letting his tip hit the back of your throat. He lets out the dirtiest moan you’ve ever heard, sending heat straight to your bare core. You’re impossibly wet, rubbing your thighs together as you bob your head along Jonathan’s length with fervor. You let him thrust into your mouth as you helplessly gag around him, spit dribbling down your chin as tears fall from your eyes. Jonathan face fucks you, and you simply take it, enjoying every second of his perfect cock in your mouth. Your fingernails dig into his hips, causing him to bite his lip as he looks down at you. You peek up at him through your eyelashes, pulling him out of your mouth and flicking your tongue on his head. Suddenly, your face is ripped away from his body.

“Lay back on the bed like a good girl for me,” Jonathan growls, your hair in a vice grip in his hand once again.

You quickly crawl to the pillows, lying down as Jonathan discards the rest of his clothing, completely naked and revealed to you at last. You scan his body, freckles dotting the places his clothing hides. They’re not just dusted along his cheeks but his shoulders too. His back is also covered in constellation-like freckles. Jonathan tries not to notice you studying him, but he can’t help but drink in your appearance too. How your waist and hips make the perfect shape, how your breasts are perked up from your arousal, and how your skin looks in the room's lighting. Jonathan looks perfect to you, and you look flawless to him. 

“Beautiful,” Jonathan sighs, kissing your ankle and up your calf until he meets your thigh.

Your breath hitches as his face lingers at your pussy, right where you need him, but then he goes to your other thigh and sucks a mark into your skin there. You throw your legs over his shoulders, and he tilts his head to the side, looking at you with that sassy yet emotionless look of his. 

“Impatient, are we?” Jonathan asks, hovering his lips right over you as his breath hits the sensitive, wet skin.

“Very,” you drawl, glaring at him playfully, “I’ve waited six months for you to eat me out, you know.”

“I’m aware,” Jonathan says, his eyes carefully taking in your anatomy, “I want to make it well worth it, dear.”

You reach down and rake your fingers through his hair, pushing his head closer to you. Jonathan wordlessly attacks your folds, licking intense stripes up and down your slit. He’ll circle your clit with the tip of his tongue before flicking it back and forth on the bundle of nerves, causing you to entangle your fingers deeper into his hair. Jonathan then takes both hands and spreads you open, flattening his tongue and shaking his head vigorously as he laps at you like a thirsting man. 

“Oh fuck,” you moan, thrusting into his face.

Jonathan sneaks a finger into your entrance, curling it against the spongy spot he finds inside you. He strokes it teasingly to the same rhythm of his tongue against your clit. You clamp your thighs against the sides of Jonathan’s head, essentially trapping him. He slips another finger into you, slamming them in and out of you as the sound of your arousal bounces off the walls.

“That feel good, baby?” Jonathan hums, his mouth pulling away from you despite your thighs, his darkened blue eyes boring into yours.

“Mhmm,” you nod, rocking your hips onto his fingers as he adds a third, stretching you out.

“That’s right, fuck yourself on my fingers,” Jonathan gasps, thrusting them faster and harder into you as his thumb finds your bundle of nerves, pressing into it.

You’re so close that you can already feel the knot in your stomach about to come undone. Your hand finds Jonathan’s cheek, caressing it as his eyes meet yours again. You arch your back close to your peak. But then, Jonathan pulls his fingers from you, tucking them into his mouth as you glare at him. He just chuckles darkly at you before grabbing you by the throat.

“Open your mouth,” he demands.

You obey, Jonathan’s grip on your neck dizzying you. He gathers your slick and his spit in his mouth before spitting it into yours, forcing your mouth closed.

“Now swallow like a good girl,” Jonathan says, holding his hand around your throat once more.

You taste yourself on your tongue, swallowing the spit as you were told. 

Jonathan’s hand travels to your face as his thumb pulls your mouth open so he can thoroughly inspect it, “Perfect.”

He sits up, spreading your legs further open so he can line himself up with your begging entrance. Gathering some of the wetness there, Jonathan pushes himself into you slowly. Your hand flies to his shoulder blades, your nails digging into his pale skin. Finally, Jonathan fills you up completely, his hips flush against yours. You throw your head back at the feeling of fullness, the sting of the stretch turning into pleasure. 

“God, Jonathan,” you move your hips a little, “You feel amazing.”

“You’re so tight it’s almost ridiculous,” Jonathan dryly jokes, his hands finding purchase on your hips as he pulls all the way out, then slams back into you.

“Fuck,” you seethe, and one of Jonathan’s hands find their way back to your throat.

He repeats his motion, pulling his hips back then snapping them forward again, gaining a steady pace. You’re a moaning mess as he quickens his rhythm. Jonathan’s face is leant down to your ear as he grunts into it. The headboard begins to slam into the wall behind you, but neither of you care about the dent it’ll probably leave in the drywall. 

“Jonathan,” you drawl out in a high pitched cry, his cock hitting your cervix just right.

“I shouldn’t have waited so long to destroy you like this,” Jonathan says in between his groans, “I love seeing you fall apart underneath me.”

Your eyes screw shut, rolling into the back of your head as he fucks you hard and fast, sure enough to leave you sore tomorrow. The sound and smell of sex fills the room as sweat beads on your forehead. You’re moving your hips at the same time as Jonathan, matching his quick and harsh thrusts. He’s hitting every spot within you just right, the shaft of his cock rubbing your clit perfectly every time he pushes it into you. You start seeing stars behind your eyes from the pressure his fingers are putting on your throat and the building orgasm in your stomach. 

“God, I wanna cum,” you scream, “Please make me cum,” you’re nearly begging incoherently now.

“Fuck, that’s right, beg me. Show me how long you’ve wanted me to fuck your witty little brains out,” Jonathan says behind gritted teeth, his own orgasm peeking over the horizon.

You start babbling and repeating, “Please,” like a mantra until Jonathan hits a spot within you that causes the stars behind your eyes to explode with white light. You feel yourself gush around him as his thrusts become sloppy, your clenching sending him over the edge. Jonathan spills into you as you both ride out your orgasms, whispering each other’s names weakly.

Jonathan runs a hand over his hair, sitting back as he catches his breath and pulls himself out of you. Your chest heaves as you feel the mixture of your cum and Jonathan’s cum seep from you. 

“That was amazing,” you sigh, melting into the mattress.

Jonathan lays down next to you, pulling you into his chest, “We can clean up later. For now, just rest a moment.”

After a brief moment of silence, you finally ask the begging question.

“Why did you wait so long?”

“I was nervous,” Jonathan confesses, “I haven’t let anyone in, in a long time. And I’ve finally let you in enough for you to experience this part of me.”

“I see,” you say, curling your arms around his that are crossed over your breasts.

“Was the wait worth it?” Jonathan asks, burying his face into your neck.

“I think one more round will make it even.”

taglist:

@baizzhu @aporiasposts @hjmalmed @queenshelby @amanda08319 @naty-1001 @orijanko @raineeace @nela-cutie

[donatellawritings]

cherry - around your neck - r. jerimovich

pairing(s): richie jerimovich x f!reader

warning(s): language, age-gap, explicit sexual content

song: the party & the after party by the weeknd

24 hours. Twenty-four hours remained until you’d stand face-to-face with the older blue-eyed man who’d come to plague your every thought, in recent times. Twenty-four hours, so close, yet so dauntingly far. Seated directly before the mirror your worn chipped-paint coated vanity, you drank yourself in. Dressed in the thin, black mesh fabric of your nightgown, you carefully examined yourself for any outstanding flaws. The concealer that once sat comfortably under your eyes now faded and live-in, courtesy of the mentally and physically taxing classes you’d endured hours prior.

Your eyes were a bit smudged from your generous application of mascara, you’d decided your staple eyeliner wasn’t needed today. Your faded and worn brown and mauve lips adding a much needed flush to your lips as you forced a closed-mouthed smile at your reflection. Your deep-red painted acrylic nails combed through your hair, adding a smidge of volume as you tilted your head, posing in the mirror, once more. Were you desirable enough? You’d just hoped that Richie would think so.

I mean, fuck, clearly you were desirable enough if he’d asked to expect a video-call from him, so close to your first official meeting date. The palm of your right hand carefully pressed against the knuckles of your left, popping the knuckles and granting you the slightest bit of relief from your anxiety-ridden nerves. Why did he want to see you? Did he want to put an end to your tryst, before it even got a chance to begin? What did Richie Jerimovich want from you that he needed to see you at this very moment?

Opening your sticker-covered laptop, you waited. Watching the reflection of yourself, through your webcam, you adjusted the hem of your nightgown to sit comfortably against your breasts, pushing them up just a bit.

Now biting into the your acrylic-reinforced thumb nail, your foot tapped against the cold carpet of your bedroom floor. Scraping your teeth against your nail, you stared at the screen of your laptop, hopelessly.

The chime of Richie’ video call request shocked you, your posture straightening as you rushed to accept the call, exhaling a breath with a smile as the call connected, revealing sight of Richie, his eyes blown and bloodshot.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart.”

-

Truth be told, Richie couldn’t find it himself to wait any longer. The past three days had been eating him alive, the impatience and anticipation that came with seeing you, touching you, becoming all too powerful against his already shaky sense of willpower. You were intoxicating, a way more addicting and raw being that was stronger than any of the substances he’d previously conducted dealings with. He could only come up with so many scenarios of you, in his mind to get himself off in the dark and tense hours of the night. So, he gave into temptation, gave into himself.

Richie could tell that you were nervous, shit, he shared the same sentiment, if not more. Asking to see you a day earlier than planned, out of the blue, he could only imagine the worst things that you could say to him. yet, the sight of your skin clashing against the confines of the thin mesh fabric, your breasts perked up just right, made it that much harder for Richie’s patience to take hold. He didn’t care where you two would go, or what time it was, he needed you, and sooner rather than later.

“Thank you, Richie,” you smiled softly, licking over the leftover mauve that stained your lips.

The two of you sat in silence for a beat. The sight of your chest rising and falling with a shaky breath becoming too much for Richie - he was too far gone.

“Richie is everything oka-”

“I need to you see now, I just, I can’t fuckin’ wait until tomorrow,” Richie blurted out, running his hand over his grown out bear, shaking his head with a smile.

You remained silent, biting down into the swell of your bottom lip with a short and breathy laugh.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re just makin’ it real fuckin’ hard for me, looking like that,” he continued, slightly adjusting the tie that laid around his neck, the glint of his gold chain peeking through from underneath his white button-up shirt.

Richie’s nerves began to run rampant as he aimlessly rambled, “I get it if you want to wait, you deserve to have the fanciest dinner of your fuckin’ life, but I need to see you, baby, so fuckin’ bad-”

“I don’t want to wait, either.” You spoke faintly, leaning your face to sit in the palm of your head.

Fuck. Richie was so fucked.

-

A subtle ache that hummed between your legs made its way through you. Knowing that Richie held the same virtue of desire eased your initial anxiousness, the two of you were teetering on a dangerously thin line and you both knew it.

Richie swallowed thickly, “Give me twenty minutes,” he spoke, his raspy voice now holding a heavier tone, “twenty minutes and I’m all yours.”

You shifted in your seat, tightly crossing your left leg over the other with an obedient nod, “all yours,” you repeated.

Richie abruptly ended the call, leaving you a nervous wreck as you sat in silence, the sound of the mild rain that hit your window, failing to calm your buzzing veins that struck you with adrenaline.

You took one last look at yourself in the mirror, debating on whether or not you should touch up your makeup, the farthest part of your subconscious telling you that you may not need to. Something about Richie’s demeanor excited you, he was domineering, yet this time he seemed feverish, almost needy?

You could barely speak yourself, lord knows how much you craved Richie, to the point where the thought of finally having him was nearly enough to bring you to your knees.

Throwing your head back, you let out a sigh, a smile laced with excitement and shock pulling at your lips as you struggled to come to terms with the fact that you were only minutes away from finally indulging in the baby blue-eyed older man. A laugh escaped your throat as you ran your fingers through your hair, before pulling your head up straight.

Standing up from the vanity, you quickly scanned your bedroom or any sign of mess. Why are you so nervous, it’s not like this is your first time being a with a guy, let alone having one at your apartment, but a 45 year old man who you met online - that was a first for you.

You made your way to the living room, turning your television on to a random channel, before heading to your kitchen cabinet, where you sifted through, until you’d found two wine glasses - did Richie even like wine? Setting the two glasses on your kitchen counter, you snatched your refrigerator door open, reaching for the cheap bottle of Moscato that you’d gotten for yourself for special occasions, like this very night.

Slamming the refrigerator door shut, you hastily reached inside of your freezing, grabbing the ice tray and cracking it, allowing a few cubes to all into each wine glass, before sliding the half-used ice tray back into the freezer. Placing the wine bottle next to beside the two ice-filled wine glasses, you took a breath.

The abrupt shrill of your ringtone broke you from your brief moment of stillness. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

“Coming!” You shouted, to no one in particular, your heart racing as you rushed to your bedroom.

Snatching your phone from your bed, you accepted the call, bringing your phone to your ear, “sorry, I was just fixing up some stuff,” you answered, swallowing the lump of nerves that had formed in your throat.

The sound of a car door closing could be heard on the other end of the phone, “S’okay, I’m downstairs - shit, uh, what apartment are you stayin’ at?” Richie questioned.

It took everything in you not to take a peek at him from your bedroom window, “Oh, yeah, I’m in 4E.”

“Alright, give me two minutes, sweetheart,” Richie cooed.

“Bye, Richie,” you ended the call, scanning over your appearance in the mirror of your vanity, “fuck,” you muttered under your breath.

-

Richie stood in the dimmed elevator, his leg bouncing as the elevator beeped with each passing floor. He was so close to you, he could taste it at the tip of his tongue. He kept his hands inside of the pockets of his leather jacket, exhaling sharply as the elevator door opened, allowing him to enter the Fourth Floor hallway.

“Fuckin’ aye,” he laughed to himself, shaking his head in disbelief as he approached the door with ‘4E’ imprinted in gold.

Sliding his right hand out of his jacket pocket, Richie brought his knuckles to the heavy door, knocking rhythmically against it. Richie silently cursed himself out as he waited at the door, his head hung low. The sound of you unlocking the door caused Richie to straighten and broaden his shoulders.

Richie’s eyes fell on yours the moment you opened the door. That fucking dress - god, Richie couldn’t even think straight as the two of you stood in silence. His eyes drank you in, he couldn't help but want to study everything about you - you were much shorter than him, so much so, that he wanted nothing more than to have you against the wall with your legs wrapped around him. He could tell that you’d just spruced up your hair with those sleek red nails, he wondered what they’d feel like digging into his back and shoulder blades. He wanted nothing more than your lips on his, seeing the way you’d lick over them, leaving him a needy and greedy mess.

Man, you were such a fuckin’ tease. Of course, you’d decided to keep that nightgown on, Richie tried to remain a man of manners and respect, keeping his eyes trained on yours, instead of on your hand that smoothed itself against the curve of your hip.

”Y’gonna let me in, sweetheart?”

-

You were completely entranced by the man who stood before you. He was tall, oh so tall, and you loved the way his oversized leather jacket clashed against his unbuttoned dress shirt and slacks. You allowed his bright baby blues to selfishly drink you in for a beat, before stepping aside, “come in,” you spoke softly.

Your eyes fluttered closed for a quick second as you shut your front door, taking a small breath before turning to face Richie, whose eyes scanned your apartment.

“You got a nice place here, yeah?”

“Uh, yeah, thank you,” you forced out a laugh as Richie’s eyes landed on yours, before motioning towards the kitchen, “would you like some wine?”

Richie shrugged off his jacket, neatly placing it on the arm of the couch as he licked at the corner of his mouth, with a nod, “Thank you, beautiful - y’need me to open it or?”

“If you don’t mind,” you accepted, your stomach turning in excitement as Richie approached you, sliding his warm hand across the side of your waist as he made his way into the kitchen.

-

Richie grabbed ahold on the wine bottle, gripping it by its neck as you leaned your back against the kitchen counter, “Y’like white wine?” He questioned, pretending to be engrossed in the cheap bottle.

“Red gives me headaches,” you spoke.

“Depends on the type you get.” Richie quipped, not missing how your hand gripped the edge of the counter.

Richie was slowly drifting off into the deep end - the tension-thick air becoming too much as he stood before you, huffing out a breath as he reached over you to open the refrigerator, sliding the bottle inside, before pushing the door closed.

Now face-to-face with you, Richie keeps his eyes directly on yours, “Tell me, where’s your head at, sweetheart,” he questioned, the tips of your noses ghosting against each other as you shrugged.

“Can-can I touch you?” You asked, your voice coming out as a whisper as you lifted your head, inching your lips closer to his.

“I’m yours, I already told you that, baby.”

And Richie meant every single word.

You nodded, “then can you touch me?”

Richie nodded, bringing his hands to your waist, smoothing his hands against your skin, before lifting you onto the counter, allowing his hands to cup your face, “tell me if it’s too much and I’ll stop, I fuckin’ swear I’ll stop, baby,” he spoke, his raspy voice needy and hoarse as his eyes search yours for any signs of displeasure.

-

With that, Richie’s warm lips were on yours, the kiss warm, wet, and hungry as you both moaned into it. Richie’s scent of musky cologne and faint cigarette smoke sent you into a daze, a whimper sneaking past your lips as Richie’s tongue slid against yours. The rough hair of Richie’s beard deliciously scratched at your lips as he adjusted himself, deepening the kiss even further, pushing you farther back onto the counter, any further and Richie would be climbing onto the counter himself.

A gasp left the two of you’s lips as you both caught your breath before you hooked your leg around Richie’s slim waist, pulling him in closer with a throaty moan. Richie’s calloused hand slightly tightened around your throat as he groaned into your mouth, the sensation of your nails accidentally scratching at the side of his neck becoming all too good to him.

Without breaking the kiss, Richie hiked your other leg around his waist, swiftly wrapping his free arm around you as he pulled you into his chest, carrying you over to your dining table.

Richie pulls away from you, feeling a faint pang in his chest as you pouted, “I know, baby, just lay back for me, I need to fuckin’ taste you,” he pleaded, pulling you in for one more quick kiss, before you laid back against the cold glass surface of the table.

A short gasp left your lips as your back arched, the frigid glass singing your skin through the thin mesh of your nightgown, “fuck,” you muttered.

Richie’s hands were quick to lift the hem of your nightgown, allowing the mesh to bunch up at your waist as he tapped your legs, silently beckoning you to spread them as you complied.

“Fuck, so fuckin’ pretty,” He smiled, pulling you closer to the edge of the table, before lowering his head between your thighs and pressing a wet kiss to your panty-covered pussy.

Richie presses another kiss to you, before sliding your underwear down your legs and allowing them to fall to the floor, a groan leaving his lips as he raised one of your legs to rest over his shoulder, kissing your inner thigh with open-mouthed kisses before making his way back down to your aching pussy.

Pressing his tongue flat against your wetness, Richie took a long and greedy lick up your folds, repeating this a couple more times, before sticking his warm and taut tongue inside of you.

“Fuck, Richie,” you breathed out, trying to grab at the completely smooth glass surface of the table as he stuck his tongue inside of you once, more, pushing himself deeper with a moan.

Richie had you right where he wanted you. And fuck, eating you out his new favorite hobby.

Richie was disgustingly greedy with you, the mixture of your slick wetness and his saliva coating his beard as he slurped away at your pulsing clit, your hoarse moans like music to his ears as he continued to lap away at you, the hand that held your leg over his shoulder now moving towards your core.

“Keep going, please, don’t st-”

Your whines fade into a gasp as Richie slides his index finger into you, the squelch of his finger enclosed in your walls sending you into a frenzy as Richie pulls his glistening face away from between your legs. Your mouth is hung open as Richie begins to thrust his finger at an agonizingly slow pace.

Taking in the wet sound of your pussy taking in his finger, Richie leans over you, his free hand now gripping your throat as he leans his forehead against yours, “M’gonna put another one in baby, just keep - fuck, just keep those pretty fuckin’ eyes on me, okay?” Richie speaks, his voice deliciously low as you nod feverishly, your nails scratching at the table.

“I-It feels so good, Richie, fuck,” you cried, your hoarse voice struggling against Richie’s grip on your throat.

Nevertheless, you did what you were told. You kept your eyes on Richie’s as he pulled his finger out of you, quickly re-entering you with both his index fingers as he pushed them all the way inside of you.

“Oh, fuck, you’re doing so fuckin’ good, baby,” Richie moaned, watching closely as you fought to keep your eyes on his.

Richie’s fingers quickened their pace inside of you, the lewd sounds of how wet you were, coupled with the ferocity of his skilled fingers leaving Richie wanting nothing more than to make you cum.

“Richie, I-I’m gon-”

“I know, baby, I know, I got you,” Richie cooed, maintaining the quick and hard pace of his fingers as he sloppily kissed you, keeping his forehead against yours as your eyelids became dangerously heavy.

“I’m so fucking close - so fucking close,” you moaned, your vision growing hazy as Richie hummed.

“You’re so fuckin’ close, I can feel it, baby.”

Richie’s hand moved from around your throat, to cradle the back of your head, forcing your to keep your focus on him as he curved his fingers inside of you, hitting that deliciously sweet spot, over and over again, until you let out a throaty cry. Richie quickly kissed you, his finger working you through your orgasm as you cried into his mouth.

Richie slowed his fingers to a gradual stop, allowing you to ride out your orgasm against his hand as you came down from your high. Your breaths were choppy and uneven as you tried to regain your composure.

Your pupils were blown, eyes wild as Richie took in your post-orgasmic appearance, so he decided he'd test the waters, bringing his/lips to your ear, “open,” he commanded, a burst of pride sweeping inside of his chest as he watched you close your swollen lips around his fingers.

You sucked softly, your strained eyes never leaving Richie’s as you gently pulled his now dry fingers out of your compliant mouth.

Richie couldn't wait to fully have his way with you, hell, in this moment even he knew that you had him wrapped around your finger. You did so good for him.

The two of you sat in silence, after Richie carried you to your bedroom, Richie standing between your legs, leaning over you as you pecked his lips, “You can stay the night, if you want,” you offered sweetly.

-

Richie was all yours and he understood that, one-hundred percent. How could he say no to those eyes, those same eyes that soaked his in as you came to a climax, how could he say no to you?

“Y’want me to stay?” He prodded.

You smiled, kissing the pendant of his gold chain that hung in front of you, “I want you to stay.”

Richie groaned, gently grabbing your chin between his thumb and index finger, “alright, then you got me, baby,” he agreed, pressing his lips to your forehead, softly cradling the back of your head.

You weren’t sure what this would mean for your relationship, moving forward. Hell, Richie wasn’t even sure what this meant, but he knew that he wanted you, every part of you, he’d just hoped that you wanted all of him too.

-

i hope you all enjoyed part three - now things are going to finally get fun <3

[reverieblondie]

Clumsy Kitty: Part 2

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara X Blackcat Fem!!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with Plot, oral (fem receiving), Teasing, Spanking, Inquiries, slight angst? Unprotected Penetrative Sex, Miguel dosen't communicate well and neither do you.

Summary: After your night with a specific grumpy spider you test the limits to your new found...relationship?

A/N: So I rewrote this a lot because this originally wasn't supposed to have a part two but here we are! Hope you enjoy!

Part 1

Word Count: 6,157 (I wish I knew how to write smaller fics!)

Eyes still shut you are leaning on the warmest thing you have ever felt. It's so silky soft you can’t help but nuzzle your face deeper. The smooth breathing and the sound of a steady heartbeat lolls you further into a relaxed state. 

Very gently you feel the solid warm mass being replaced with a cool pillowly feeling, you feel yourself pout from the loss of warmth but you're too exhausted, your body feeling too drained to even muster a protest. The warmth is back for a single moment, it softly brushes from over your swollen lips to your cheek. The soft touch makes you drift further into the sweet darkness of rest. 

Almost as quick as it was to slip into your slumber you are rushing to awaken from it. Opening your eyes abruptly you are met with the sight of your room, lying in your sheets, wrapped in your comforter smelling like the detergent you used to clean all your clothes. Blinking for a couple of minutes your brain goes over everything that happened last night. 

Going to lean up your now awake body feeling painfully sore, Plopping back down you feel the soreness everywhere your arms, your legs, your throat, your aching sex. Spider-Man or scratch that Miguel did a number on you. Though you would do it again, you plan to do it again. 

Stretching your arms you hear your bones pop and the soreness stretch through your shoulders, where's the damn Tylenol? Getting up, the rest of your body aching from standing awake you finally look over to your nightstand where a note catches your eye. A paper folded to stand says ‘Take me’ and there's an arrow pointing down to a pill. Ah, plan B smart. 

Grabbing the pill and the card you walk to your restroom, examining the card you assume to be from Miguel you take in how nice his handwriting is, and turning the card over you see another message for you, ‘stay out of trouble’. A small chuckle leaves your lips and you stand in your small bathroom. 

“Stay out of trouble huh?” you say with a smirk, looking back to the pill you laugh slightly again before unceremoniously dropping the pill in the toilet and flushing it down. 

Probably should tell Spidy you're on the pill, no plan B needed, and also there is no way in hell you're going to be staying out of trouble now, not when you've got so deliciously rewarded for your little escapades. Now the trick will be how to see him again…you know now where his little clubhouse’s location and you could always do your tried and true getting into trouble, though what if you should try to see him out of the suit, like just regular people…would that even work? Could you even find him? 

Losing yourself in thought you run through the possibilities, though one thing rings in your mind, does he want to see you again? Whelp, that's just something you will have to figure out. 

Taking a deep breath you look at your reflection in the mirror, time to get ready for another mundane day. Though your day was sure to be as mundane as any other, the excitement of what the night could hold has you looking forward to your day. 

Now, you might be crazy or just too dickmotized but going into the same museum that you had first met Spider-man seemed like an almost romantic way to meet him again. Poetic really. Walking through the museum you walked around looking for something good to snatch up. Your eyes fall on some relic-looking thing in a glass box with lots of lasers to set off, perfect!

Public eye hot your tail, and you're running from them hoping from building to building then finally slipping to the underground, a place they are sure to lose you in. It worked but you're a bit disappointed, Miguel failed to appear. Now stuck with some relic you don’t even want you to start to make your trek back to your apartment.

Swinging from building to building, you stop to rest in a dark alley, you need to work out more if you're going to keep this up. Taking your breather you fail to hear the person sneaking up behind you.

Suddenly a large hand is placed over your mouth while the other wraps tightly around your waist. Being pressed against the solid body of your capture you only panicked for a moment before feeling that familiar warmth. Turning your head you see that it’s the masked vigilante himself pressing you close. Dragging you further into the ally, and you let him lead the way. Finally being secluded enough to his liking he releases you. While he releases you he grabs the relic from your hand. 

“Didn’t I tell you to stay out of trouble?” Miguel places the relic to the side before he crosses his arms, you know under that mask he's giving you that furrowed brow look of disappointment. 

“Oh well you know old habits die hard,” You say slowly getting closer to him. You reach your hand out to touch his chest but he quickly grabs your wrist before you can touch him. Looking at him you're a bit confused but filled with anticipation. 

Pulling you closer he causes you to crash into him holding you tightly, more bruises for your already sore body. You can't help but feel that familiar excitement from the last time you two were this close.   

“Kitty, I told you to keep out of trouble, if you keep up this bad behavior I will be forced to do something about it…” 

Oh, this is perfect, he is definitely into your bad girl behavior, “Well then do something abou-” Before you can even finish your sentence, you are turned around and quickly pinned to the nearest wall. 

“You're in trouble now gata, now count…”  

“Count-” Right as you're saying the word back to him you feel a hard slap across your ass. Mouth hanging open in surprise you don’t even know what to do. The rush of excitement makes your lower stomach tighten as you feel that familiar tingling. Hands grip hard to the wall and you brace yourself.  

“Count…” his gruff voice demands in your ear. 

“One” turning your face still against the wall you see that he’s still in that damned mask. The eyes narrow at you then another spank strikes you making a quick moan escape you. Your body shakes in excitement, “Two”

Miguel's large hand can be felt running up your body from your hip to your breast massaging gently. It's a completely different feeling from the sharp slap following the gesture. “Th-three” you stutter out, the spanking is degrading enough but forcing you to count, it was making your slick pool in your panties.  

A fourth slap and you're starting to feel the stinging pain welling up on your cheek. After mewing out “four” you feel him rub his large hand on the plush flesh of your bottom. The sweet gesture has you arching yourself towards him feeling his length straining in his suit.

 As you're grinding your ass against him, he moves his hand away, reeling back. Knowing what’s going to follow you shying away from the incoming spank before he’s even done it. 

Soft lips are then pressed to your neck and his hand moves from your breast to grip your chin. Feeling his desperate open mouth kisses burning against your neck, your eyes rolling as he approaches the shell of your ear, nipping slightly. 

“Don’t shy from it now bad girl, take your punishment…” nodding your head slightly you still yourself as best you can, clenching your thighs and shutting your eyes tightly, bracing for the delicious sting. 

The fifth spank comes down, but it’s gentle still felt but not as hard as the other four. The warmth of his body moves away from you and you can’t help how you almost whine missing his warmth so close to you. -you’ve got it bad…

Turning around still pressed against the wall you see his mask is off and he's smirking at you, clearly proud of himself. And he should be, your body is heated, face flushed, and panties are ruined. If the goal was to turn you on and take you in the alley it was working and you were willing. 

Though, to your disappointment, he grabs the relic you stole instead of ravishing you further. 

“Was that supposed to teach me a lesson? I think you could have done more than that” you tease trying to get a reaction.

“What do you even need this for?” Miguel tosses the relic in the air and catches it casually. 

“To lure you out spidy” Danm, getting good at this confident banter. 

Miguel shoots you a look that you easily read as he silently says ‘really’, you can’t help but laugh, “You're the one who keeps rewarding my bad behavior” This gets a soft chuckle from him. -Hell yeah! Fall for my charm spidy.

Miguel's mask goes back over his face and before he goes to swing off into the night Miguel tosses the stolen relic back to you, “Make sure you be a good kitty and take that back.” 

Going to grab the relic, you're trying your best to catch the priceless artifact. However, you have never been good at catching. 

The relic fumbles in your hands before it crashes onto the ground breaking into pieces.  The impact makes your hands fly to cover your mouth to hold in your yelp, this is not good… Slowly you lift your eyes to Miguel as he stares down at the ruined artifact before he slowly rises to view your shocked face. 

“Really…” his voice says dryly

“I wasn’t expecting you to throw it!” 

Breaking a priceless artifact and then haphazardly gluing it back together before returning it to the museum was not one of your prouder moments. Can’t say it didn’t fit in with the bad girl persona, even without trying you were slipping into your naughty girl ego. Though Miguel didn’t exactly seem happy about a priceless relic being destroyed. -whoops

You would just have to make it up to him. Did it involve you breaking into somewhere and stealing? Yes, but you made sure to steer clear of anything too irreplaceable so you opted for Alchemax, a place that every time you sunk it Miguel was a forsure arrival. 

It was the chase that had your mouth watering, barely slipping through Spider-Man’s fingers as you ran away with whatever bullshit seemed important. Honestly it didn’t matter, he was chasing you with that taunting tone of come back and you were swinging and climbing barely out of reach. Miguel could have caught you easily, he was stronger and way more agile in the air than you, but something told you he was enjoying chasing his prey as you led him closer and closer to your apartment.  

Spider-man catches the bad blackcat to face justice, and if the place he so happens to catch you in was your apartment then so be it. Sure the neighbors would be confused about who this so-called Miguel is as they file a noise complaint about you. But he had to be rough with you slamming into you over and over as you begged for forgiveness and promised to be a good girl. How else would he teach such a bad girl a lesson? 

Too lost in the thrill of the chase and the fantasy of the night in store for you; you don’t notice that your grappling claw is releasing at a delay. So, once you jump off the side of the building and shoot for the next, it jams. 

Panicking, you're trying to release it but it's not reacting and now you're falling. The ground is fast approaching as the neon lights of the city blur in your vision. You're quickly trying to find something to grab or something to land on. This is something you have never thought would happen and now it’s happening, you should have planned better. Trying not to panic you can’t help how you slip a cry of Miguel's name, slipping his identity is a major no no but you don’t know how else to convey you are in trouble. 

Though your outing of his name isn’t even registering to him right now, he just sees you falling to the ground; panic consuming him. In an instant, he's jumping down, crawling, falling, then grabbing you in a bone-breaking embrace. The force of him hitting you in such a desperate attempt has you both crashing into the nearest building's window. Breaking and entering unintentionally. 

A throbbing pain can be felt on your head and talons can be felt piercing through your suit and skin, holding you so tightly in his burning warmth. The blazing warmth of the tight embrace almost has you not registering how the blood weeps from your wounds. Breathing in a stutter from the adrenaline and from how he is almost crushing you, it only tightens further until you can relinquish one steady breath that eases him. Pulling away from him you can only imagine what's behind his mask in this moment, anger, happiness, relief, fear? 

Suddenly a sharp pain makes your brows furrow and your hand shoots towards the pain, placing your hand to your side you feel it then looking down you see it. A shard of glass embedded into your side blood coating the transparent intrusion. Not used to such injuries you scream then almost faint but Miguel is swift to catch you in his arms. An injury like this is nothing to him you assume from his apparent calm demeanor. 

“Really I will be fine” You sat on the couch as you heard Miguel shuffling around your bathroom muttering to himself. With his mask off, you see that it is not a calm or even a pitting demeanor; he’s irritated and it seems to be pointed at you. 

Coming back into view you see he has managed to scrunch up some supplies to help take care of you. Laying all the supplies on the table he doesn't meet your eyes. Feeling guilty about the whole situation your eyes fall to the floor, this was not what you had in mind for the evening. 

Fingers caress your chin making you look and meet his eyes, those eyes…absolutely hypnotic…you can’t help how you slowly lean in wanting to kiss him. But he moves his head back slightly avoiding your advance, looking down at your side still impaled with the glass and his face twists into further irritation. 

“This might hurt,” he says dryly.

“What?” swiftly Miguel pulls the glass from your side, honestly not all as deep and bad as you had originally thought, But the sudden yanking out of you is painful. 

“Son of a bitch!” you yipe at the sting. The stinging pain was quickly dissipating as Miguel worked tentatively to patch up the wound. Honestly, him playing doctor with you was making your stomach swarm with butterflies. 

Wanting to flirt and tease him you decide against it as you look down at his face. Seeing him with a serious face was nothing new for you but in this moment there was an air about him that was making you walk on eggshells. Miguel had hardly said anything to you this whole time, he was just speaking under his breath or just giving sharp commands.   

“Okay strip, I need to patch the rest” Miguel demands as he stands away from you. 

Gently you run your hand along your side where he had bandaged you up. Looking up at your hero, he’s refusing to meet your gaze as he is prepping alcohol on a cotton pad and setting up more bandages for you.

Standing carefully you start to disarm your gadgets and slip off your suit letting it pool onto the ground beneath you. Having to strip down in front of him has your face blooming in a deep blush. Yes, the man has seen you naked, hell he’s been inside you but the situation still makes your stomach flutter. 

Once stripped to your underwear Miguel gently turns you around to observe the inquiries to your back. Softly his hand traces where his talons had punctured and scratched your skin. The dried blood trails down your back and he is extra gentle as he cleans you up with a rag. Applying the alcohol to the wounds makes you tense releasing a hiss, the sting disinfects and cleans the marks. Tension in the air is thick as he gently begins to patch your wounds with bandages, you hear him faintly whisper an apology as his large hands work on you. Unsure if he meant for you to hear the apology you just hum softly. 

Once you're finally patched up he moves away from you and starts packing away the supplies. Softly you thank him and he only hums in response still avoiding meeting your eyes. Awkwardness makes you fidget and you excuse yourself to your room to put on something. Miguel is always quiet and sure he is not the most commutative but he’s acting strange, even if he was mad at you from past experiences with him you know he wouldn’t shy away from telling you that he was mad at you, so what's his deal?

Quickly you slip your shirt and shorts on returning to the living room. Sat on the couch you see Miguel looking down at your suit and gadgets neatly folded and placed on the coffee table. Seeing him still in your apartment has you surprised, with the way he has been quiet you were sure he was angry with you and would have slipped out but he’s still here…Maybe he wants to stay and look after you for the night! That would be a welcomed surprise!  

 “Can I get you some coffee?”  you ask eagerly while rushing towards the kitchen, but as you are rushing to make coffee you stub your toe on the couch leg as you are passing it; letting out a sharp cry as you hold your foot. How did this hurt more than the glass? 

“You can’t even walk in your apartment without hurting yourself.” Miguel laments, shaking his head as he walks past you making his way to the kitchen. 

Shortly after Miguel is placing a hot coffee in front of you as you sit on the couch favoring your foot; he even places down sugar and creamer on the table. Looking up at him you see him drinking his coffee, steaming hot and black you assume based on his personality. 

“Than-”

“I’m taking the suit and the stuff with me…” he interrupts sharply 

“What? Why?” you ask confused.

“Are you serious? You almost died today! Look at you!” Miguel's eyes are piercing you as his body tenses further. 

Deep down you know that Miguel was right, your inquiries could have been a lot worse if he wasn’t there, you understand that, but taking your suit to prevent you from being Blackcat was overreaching. 

“Look what happened was scary but I am okay and I’m going to make sure to fix it where it doesn't happen again.” Reaching your hand out you step closer to him, but he backs away from you. 

“So am I,” Miguel says dryly, staring daggers into you, unwavering in his decision. 

Opening your mouth to further protest you are cut off by Miguel's watch beeping and his holo agent appearing. “Miguel, we have a situation that needs back up” 

Miguel's eyes stay on you roaming over your figure watching the bruises slowly blooming on your skin and the patches he so tentatively wrapped you in. 

“Tell them I’m on the way…” 

“Right away~”

Miguel swiftly grabs your suit and gadgets from the coffee table heading towards your window to make his exit. 

“Miguel, wait! You can’t leave now! This isn’t over!”

“That's where you're wrong…it is over…”

Stopping dead in your tracks you feel a sharp sting in your chest from his sharp words. Does he mean the conversation or does he mean…

“Wait!”

Halfway out of the window he turns to look at you cutting you off again, “Just finish your coffee and for once listen to me.”

The pain and confusion must be evident on your face because, for a split second, you see his face go from irritated to concerned before his watch goes off again, making him break his stare and slip out your window into the restless night. Taking your alter ego with him leaving your head whirling. 

Who does he think he is? Taking your stuff and leaving! Taking away the one thing that was keeping your life entertaining! If he thinks he can just take your stuff without consequence he has another thing coming! Plus what did he mean by over? Does he mean your crimes or did he mean…you two?

It had been two days and you had healed up and couldn't take it anymore. Sneaking into his HQ you were ready to enact petty revenge. It was a lot easier to break in this time, maybe it was the fact that you had done it before or the fact that you were driven by your anger but you were a cat on a mission! 

Miguel taking the things that you worked painstakingly hard to create was driving you mad, little did that grump know you made an extra set of grappling claws for emergencies like this. Though you didn't have another suit you had to just settle on an all-black ensemble, not as super thief looking but the hoodie was comfortable.   

Starting off sneaking in, were you quickly seen by multiple spider-people? Employees? Whatever, they didn't seem to care about you being in there very much, a few even waved at you saying “Miguel's cats here” or some cat-related pun. You weren't listening, just focused on getting to his office. 

Finally making it to the dark office you can’t help how your chest aches from being in the place that took your criminal x superhero relationship up a notch. Up to a level that you were not exactly sure what it was or how to define it. Complicated? Enemies with benefits? though now that the two of you were upset with each other you were even more confused. 

How do you even talk to him about this? Do you talk to him about this? Shit, are you here making an idiot of yourself? Just had to like the hero ....you're not good at this bad girl game…

Rummaging around his office you do not care if you're making a ruckus or even a mess. You wanted Miguel to show his stupidly handsome face, and give him a nice verbal thrashing of all the things you thought to say after he left.

There was a part of you that wished this would end up like the last time you were here, ending with you wrapped in his arms…growing closer…this alter ego is how you got to see him after all, it's not like you have ever met as civilians, hell, you didn't even know how you two would find each other…you didn’t even know his last name. 

Stopping with a sigh you start to think of the word “over”. Was that his way of ending things, this, whatever it was with you…the thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. Now here you are so desperate for his attention, to keep it going after he told you to stop…there is no way this ends well right? 

“He’s not here” A voice suddenly startles you. Looking around you try and pinpoint where it’s coming from then you look up. Walking casually on the ceiling you see a lanky-looking man in an odd-looking spider suit with a pink robe, he smiles at you before he drops down in front of you. 

“Where is he then?”

“He's been out on a mission, I think he’s coming back soon though. Do you want to wait for him? Or I can call-”

“Don’t!” you say quickly cutting him off, he gives you a quizzical look. 

“We aren't exactly on friendly terms right now” 

“Then…Uh whatcha doing here, stray?” 

“Stray?” you quickly shake off the comment “There was a slight accident, and he got all grumpy spider and took my suit and gadgets, so I am just getting revenge. Don’t try to stop me.” the man seems to only laugh at your comments so you look around for something to take till something catches your eye “How about that white and red suit? Seems important…” 

“Yeah, I would advise against that. I think taking things is only going to escalate things.” 

Huffing you lean against a nearby desk crossing your arms. “Then what should I do?” 

The man laughs before he speaks, “Cat, you're asking for advice about a very complicated guy…”  

Sighing you feel a mixture of emotions swell through you, the man leans against the desk next to you, “Have you tried talking to him?” 

“This isn’t exactly a very communicative relationship, I don’t even know if he even likes me or if I am just entertaining him…” 

“Oh, he likes you,” you can’t help at how you light up at that comment looking at him with pleading eyes, wanting to hear more. 

“He has been in such a better mood with you around, and get this, he doesn't even mind the cat jokes. Plus..” He leans closer to whisper in your ear “I’ve seen him looking at pictures of you” 

“Really,” You try to hide your enthusiasm but it seeps through making the man laugh and nod yes. 

“If you ask me he seems to like you” 

“He said this was done, and the bastard didn’t even bother to elaborate on what he meant!” 

“So why don’t you ask him? The first time you confronted him worked out for you, why not do it again?” 

“Yeah but…that was confronting Spider-Man, not Miguel whatever his name…”

The man thinks for a moment then a smirk stretches over his lips before he snaps his fingers “I have an idea!”  

Either this Peters guy’s plan was completely brilliant or completely idiotic. Here you are, broken into Miguel's apartment in Babylon Tower. Waiting for him to come home to talk to him. Talking to him in his office you thought would have been better but Peter was instant that you come here. Something about forcing Miguel out of his Spider-Man ego and the shocked look on his face. 

Sitting in his apartment was pretty surreal. You two have only met in costume, and now here you are unmasked and waiting for him. This felt like something people in relationships would do, not whatever you two are. 

As you sit waiting in anticipation the moment finally arrives. You hear Miguel's front door opening with his holo agent greeting him and informing him that he has a visitor in the living room. Miguel rightfully looking confused approaches the room quickly, stopping in his tracks when his crimson gaze falls on you. 

Watching his face contort from confusion to irritation back to confusion he finally starts to ask a question but you are the one to cut him off this time.

“I need to talk to you and…this is what your friend Peter suggested.”

Miguel rolls his eyes “Of course he did…” 

Placing his eyes back on you he approaches. Coming closer, you're able to see him in his normal attire out of the iconic Super-suit, oddly he’s still as intimidating. Muscles still bulging with every movement. The shirt he was wearing was basically crying against his wide chest, One sharp movement and you're sure it would rip into a bunch of tiny pieces. 

“I’m guessing you're not here to talk about getting your stuff back considering you broke in here without issue” -Okay not seeming mad this is a good start. 

“Actually I do want those back but that’s a later conversation. I’m here now to talk to you about…us?” you can’t help but cringe at your own words sounding so pathetic. 

Miguel on the other hand seems unfazed, “what about us?”

“Are…Is this thing over? Or was this not ever even a thing? I mean you're a hero and I'm just a thief and not even a few good one either…” As you're rambling on you fail to notice Miguel inching closer keeping his cold gaze fixed on you. 

Once you finally look up Miguel has moved so close to you that he is practically pinning himself against you. All your words begin to die off as he lifts his hand to cup your cheek gently stroking your soft skin. It's almost like he’s petting you to soothe you. 

“Cat…”

“Spidy…”

Leaning down his warm breath fans across your face, those blazing eyes burning into yours. 

“I couldn’t be done with you even if I tried”

“Mig-” 

True to himself he cuts you off by pressing his lips to yours. The kiss is different from your first kiss, it’s gentler. Holding onto you as if you were made of glass, Kissing you as if you are precious to him. And you are…

Beginning to move his lips against yours he opens your mouth effortlessly, then capturing your bottom lip between his teeth he pulls back and lets go making your lip pop back and swell instantly from the teasing bite. 

The sensation makes you moan pressing yourself flush to his body, that warmth of his is still intoxicating to you. Moving your head to expose your neck he kisses your sensitive skin with hot open mouth kisses that lick and bite at you. Shuddering at each kiss you feel yourself getting slick between your thighs. 

“Your Mine” His rough voice purs before he's lifting you effortlessly causing you to curl your legs around his narrow hips. Miguel bounces you up and down a few times just because he can. The Motion has your cunt rubbing against his strained cock tenting his pants. 

Miguel carries you to his bedroom commanding Layla to dim the lights. Pressing kisses desperately against each other you finally make it to the bedroom. Crashing into the mattress doesn't stop the pursuit of each other's lips. Getting drunk on one another's taste you're making quick work to get each other naked as quickly as possible pulling and tearing at the clothing. Mouth-watering as you finally pull away to admire Miguel's body shows his sculpted physique and perfect skin, you can’t help that you start licking up and down his chest making him shamelessly whimper. 

Once he can’t take anymore he's tasting your skin but kissing from your neck, licking at your collarbone, then finally finding his place at your breast. Miguel is quick to latch his mouth onto your nipple, licking and biting causing you to moan out as he continues to suck, moving from one to the other and trailing his saliva all over you, practically marking you. His other hand fumbles with the button and zipper of your pants as he snakes his fingers underneath the hem to strip them off you. 

Releasing from your swollen bud he is pulling your pants off completely. Looking down at you he spreads your legs apart to watch that glistening stain on your panties. Without reservation, he's leaning down lapping at your clothed cunt eating you through the thin fabric. Feeling him sucking and rubbing his hot tongue against your bundle of nerves has your toes curling and throwing your head back. Practically begging at this point you're pushing your sex against his face selfishly wanting to chase your high. 

Popping out his talons he quickly disregarded your panties, throwing the remains to the floor. Lifting his eyes to meet yours he sees your desperate eyes lidded and mouth pouting for him to taste you fully, his lips curl into a grin. 

“Such a needy girl.”

Whimpering at his taunts you spread your legs wider for him then take your hand to slide across your folds to spread yourself for him. 

“My girl is begging like a damn slut…You want me to take care of you, baby?” 

Nodding quickly he's quick to take care of you. Leaning down he flicks his tongue on your clit making you lift your hips off the bed. Keeping his tongue working on your clit he probes his finger into you, starting with his index finger and then moving in his middle both plunging knuckles deep, curling against your gummy walls. The closer you are to your orgasm the more you tangle your hands into his thick hair, Pulling him into you more. He was right, you are needy. 

Feeling that familiar quivering of your cunt and the shakes from your body he’s licking faster, getting that white-hot pleasure rushing through you as you cream on his fingers. You swear you hear him chuckle before he pulls out his digits to lick up your essence. 

Once he's done he's moving away from your weeping slit, already aching for more. Discarding his pants quickly he’s already crawling back on to you. The tip of his cock bobs up and down nudging along your cunt. Leaning down he kisses you desperately making you taste yourself on his tongue. Pulling away he pumps himself as he lines up to your entrance.

“Your mine…all mine…” 

All you can do is nod and hum as if you're too drunk in anticipation to give out actual answers. Sliding in you gasp at the overwhelming stretch. Your cunt is so desperate to be filled you could feel yourself practically sucking him in and the feeling is not lost on him. 

“Damn…if you keep sucking me in like that, I’m not going to be able to resist filling you up,”

Mumbling out a string of yes’s you curl your legs around him as he draws his hips back to where only the tip was in. Leaning down he nudges his nose against yours probing you for a kiss, arching forward to slide your lips hungrily against his. 

Thrusting upwards he hits that sweet spot deep inside you causing you to break the kiss with a moan. 

“That's my girl” Pulling out and rolling into you deeper he keeps praising you “My good, good, girl,” with each word he thrusts into you deeply making you shake and cry. 

“So, tight..and mine…” his words slur together dripping with lust as he continues to fuck himself deeply into you. Both of you are approaching your highs feeling his cock throb in you as he continues to moan a symphony of ‘mine’ as he ruts into you. 

As you begin to feel yourself clamp around his thick cock you hear him softly say your name making you clamp down harder humming to him. 

“Say your mine,” His thrust began to speed up. 

“I’m yours, always,” with that he rolls into you deeper making you squirt on his cock, making a creamy mess all over him. 

Groaning and grinding against you, his orgasm finally washes over him. Miguel cummed in you, it was deep and hot like the first time setting your insides ablaze. Unhooking yourself from him you're surprised to feel him lean further into you, keeping himself in you. 

In this position, you could feel his racing heartbeat. 

“Say I’m yours…I…I need to hear you say it” looking up at you with his intense eyes and flushed face. The sudden vulnerability makes your heart skip. He made it clear that you were his but he wanted you to want him as much, and you did. 

Cupping his cheek he leans into the soft touch, “Your mine Miguel…”

“You know, this doesn’t mean I’m going to stop being Blackcat,” you say resting your head on his warm chest. Miguel just chuckles slightly as he lazily traces your side, carving your figure into memory. 

“Yeah, I figured you still wouldn’t listen, But maybe you can be helpful to me instead.” 

A huge smile stretch’s on your face, “Are you going to let me join the spider society?” 

Miguel gently creases your chin and pulls you closer to his face, “perhaps if you learn not to be so clumsy” he quickly teases before he places a kiss on your nose. 

Huffing you are not entertained by his teasing. Watching him with a pout you see that perfect body of his roll off the bed heading towards the bathroom. 

“You know, you're not funny Mr.-” you stop. -Shit after all that you still don't know his lastname…

“O’Hara” His smooth voice breaks your thoughts.-O’Hara, huh?

“Now come on, I want to take a shower with my pretty girl before I have to go back to HQ” 

“Your leaving me already?”

Miguel approaches wrapping his arms around you pulling you closer to his bare body. “Don’t worry pet, I plan on taking you with me.” Leaning down you feel his hot breath against the shell of your ear making a familiar heat shoot down to your stomach.

“Maybe I will even let you sit on my lap while I work…”

Tags:

@xspideyxx

[fullofbees]

@kiralaufeyson84 requested: Mammon with prompt #57 from the Smut Prompt List - “Look at your reflection. Look at how gorgeous you are. So fucking gorgeous when I’m fucking you like this. So pretty for me, and only for me.”

CW: Semi-Rough sex (but not really), Mirror Sex

»»----------► F!Reader

"Wha- Weally? Wight now??" You ask incredulously before spitting out toothpaste into the sink, "You are insatiable, you know that?"

Mammon presses his hardening cock against your ass, his hands taking hold of your waist to keep you trapped against the counter.

"Y'know I can't help it! You're jus' too damn temptin'," the demon says as he begins to rock his hips, "Walkin' round in my shirt for everyone to see..."

You're about to remind him of which demon tore your shirt last night, but any playful scolding dies when you see his reflection in the mirror. He hides his blushing face against your neck, softly panting as he teases himself with slow thrusts against your panties.

Ughhh, damn him! Everyone already thinks you entertain him too much; you'll never forget the last fight that broke out when Asmo accused you of playing favorites. You're still paying Lucifer back for the damages.

But... he does seem desperate, and you know he's trying real hard to stay composed in case you tell him no. Yet, you can feel his greed growing the longer you wait. Mammon takes what he wants, especially when others say he shouldn't. He is so sweet with you, it is maddening; but when you're the one he wants to take? The rush of what's to come has you pressing your thighs together.

"I felt that," Mammon hisses through clenched teeth. His hands run down your thighs and back up, greedily groping as much of your body as he can, "I'll be real quick babe, promise."

You barely manage to get a "Yes" out before he's pulling your panties down to your knees. He settles one hand against your back, pushing you flush against the ceramic counter, the granite like ice to your flushed skin. You're not given a moment to adjust before he's already sinking his cock into you, making you gasp.

Once every delicious inch is inside, he leans against against your back, bracing himself with his forearms on either side of your head. The wet sound of skin slapping skin echoes throughout the bathroom. Mammon babbles incoherently behind you, hot breath teasing your skin as he groans his praises into your shoulder.

Your first man stands back to his full height, taking hold of your hips again. His nails dig into your flesh, the indents surely bruising as he drags you down the length of his cock. You stare at Mammon's reflection in the mirror, as he watches you take him again and again, panting through his satisfied grin each time you clench around him.

You're lifted up by a harsh yank to your hair, making you hiss out in pained pleasure. Mammon's hands make quick work of his shirt, pushing the fabric up until your breasts are exposed. Another gasp escapes past your lips as his thumbs brush against your nipples, teasing the skin until it's flushed and stiff.

“Look at your reflection," Mammon happily hums, "Look at how gorgeous you are."

One of his hands travels to your neck, tipping your face up until you meet your own gaze in the mirror. Your demon presses a maddeningly sweet kiss to your cheek followed by a rough thrust of his hips that nearly knocks you back down to the counter.

"So fucking gorgeous when I’m fucking you like this. So pretty for me, and only for me.”

Perhaps the others are right, you indulge him too much; but it's hard to give a damn when you're the thing his greed wants most of all.

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[ofstarsandvibranium]

Precious Truths: Part 10

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: After your father finds out you’ve been writing under a male pseudonym, he threatens to marry you off to an atrocious man unless you find yourself a husband within a month’s time.

A/N: a short one, but i hope it still gives the feelings i was trying to capture. enjoy!

Series Masterlist

Weddings are meant to be a joyous occasion. A ceremony to celebrate the unity of two people. However, Benedict Bridgerton, isn't feeling joyous at all. Rather, somber...melancholic...heartbroken. Today, he gets to see you walk down the aisle but it isn't him waiting for you at the end of it. Marquess James Montclair is a man of status and wealth. Not only that, he is kind, compassionate, and accepts you for who you are.

Benedict couldn't have wished for anyone more perfect for you.

However, he still wishes it was him that could have given you everything. And because of his never-ending love for you, he's come to a hard decision.

_________________________________

You're looking at yourself one last time in the mirror. The veil you have chosen falls over your back. The dress you and Aunt Eliza worked on turned out so well. As it should since Aunt Eliza paid Madame Delacroix handsomely for it.

Nearly a month ago, your life had changed. You didn't know for the better, at the time, but as you became more familiar with James, you knew you will be okay.

Regardless, that still didn't stop the wedding jitters. Just moments ago, Aunt Eliza had informed you of what happens on the night of one's wedding. You were nervous about that, rightfully so. But you were also sure that James would be kind when it comes time to it.

Now, you're trying to muster up the courage to walk out that door to head to the church.

You hear a knock at the door and you call out, "Just a few more moments, Aunt Eliza!"

The door opens and in the reflection, you see Benedict. You immediately turn to face him, "Ben!"

He stands at the door looking stunned, his eyes wandering over your wedding dress, "You-You look beautiful."

You smile, "Thank you," you tilt your head curiously, "Is something wrong?"

"No, I-I just wanted to speak with you," he clenches his fists at his side, "I'm leaving for France."

Your brows furrow in confusion, "When?"

"...now."

"Now?" you ask him disbelief, "Benedict, it is my wedding day!"

"Which is why I am leaving," he says with heartbreak, "I cannot watch you marry another man. I cannot stand there and witness you declare yourselves to one another not when....not when it should have been me there with you."

Your breath hitches when you realize what Benedict is saying to you. A part of you is elated to know that Benedict has held the same affections for you, and another part of you, a much bigger, stronger part of you, is angry. Angry that he should have told you his feelings years ago. Angry that you and he could have been married already and living happy in love. Angry that he finally decided to tell you this before you marry another man.

"Why? Why didn't you say anything sooner? Why didn't-We could have-"

Benedict, seeing your distress, rushes up to you and takes your hands in his, "Listen to me. I love you, Y/N. Truly. Deeply. Wholeheartedly. But I am not enough for you. I cannot give you the life you deserve. I am but a second son. The marquess is what you deserve."

Tears are running down your cheeks as you look at Benedict, "You are so much more than that. I told you-"

"I know. I am forever grateful of your support and friendship."

"Benedict, I love you. I have always loved you and now you're leaving?How can you expect me to go out there and marry James now? After everything you've just told me?"

"Because you have to. Darling, it's because I love you that I am doing this. I am letting you go."

"No, you are running away!"

Benedict lets out a deep breath, leans in and kisses your forehead, "I truly hope you will be happy with him, Y/N. I love you." his hands slip out of yours and you watch him in heartbreak as he exits the room without looking back.

______________

When Benedict steps out of the room, Aunt Eliza is there waiting with a look of sympathy in her eyes.

"It is admirable what you are doing, Mister Bridgerton."

He wipes the tears from his eyes, "Am I doing the right thing?"

"It may not feel like it right now, but I am certain this is how everything should be. I wish you all the success, Mister Bridgerton."

With a nod, Benedict rushes down the steps to leave. France is waiting.

_____________________

After fixing up your makeup and taking slow, deep breaths, you waltzed out of your room with determination.

Aunt Eliza has a neutral expression, "Ready?"

You give her a smile and a nod, "Yes."

She escorts you out to the carriage where you father is waiting. He's been in better spirits lately. Primarily due to James paying a larger dowery to get him out of debt. You didn't want him too, having resented your father for the position he's put you in, but James did it with the insurance that your Aunt will have full control of the money. So that made you more at ease.

"I'm proud of you, Y/N. Your mother would be proud of you," your father says with a cocky grin.

You clench your jaw and give a polite smile, "Thank you, father."

The ride to the church is much shorter than you remember. People are already waiting inside for you. Your aunt steps out and then your father. He holds out his hand to you as you step out.

Aunt Eliza hands you your bouquet and you link your arm with your father's.

The church door opens and everyone stands. Your breath hitches when you see James waiting for you at the end of the aisle. He looks handsome in his dark blue velvet suit. The sun peaking through the church windows shines down, making his dark skin glow.

He stares at you with love in his eyes, his smile beaming as you walk closer and closer to him.

As you reach the end of the aisle, your father hands you to James. James gives a nod to your father and you follow him to stand before the bishop.

"Dearly beloved..."

You glance at James, your hand still in his. Feeling your eyes on him, he looks your way with a smile. He winks and squeezes your hand. The anger and sadness you felt earlier eases to a dull pain. Benedict has left you. He has let you go.

It's time you do the same.

[wettvagina]

F MY BABY DADDY!

desc: eren, the father of your daughter, and your cock-blocking baby daddy, pays you a visit after he heard what you said about him on your instagram live a.n: shoutout to my DECEASED bd eren edot yeager, gone too soon , miss u everyday bae ://

TURNT UP TO THE MAX, I'M THE TRENDIN' TOPIC!

You looked at yourself in your pink vanity mirror, sitting on the pink, fuzzy-cushioned stool behind your vanity table, you smacked your lips after applying some pink, sparkly lipgloss, setting up your phone against the mirror, swiping on Instagram aimlessly as you awaited a message from your friend.

Seeing her name pop up on your notifications, you quickly tapped it, replying to her 'im gonna be there in 20' message with a thumbs up emoji. You sighed as you swiped on Instagram, tapping on the 'Go Live' icon, seeing your reflection on your phone screen.

You smiled slightly as you watched your views slowly increase, "Hey everybody." you greeted, you propped your phone on the mirror so everyone could see a better view of your outfit, you smiled and posed before coming closer to your phone screen to open the comments.

"Yes, I am going out." you chatted, "Just hoppin' on here for fun, I'm waiting on somebody." you smirked, "D'ya have a new man?" you read a comment, "Huh? No, that's why I'm goin' out." you snickered, "My dating life has been, so dry." you sighed to yourself, reading more comments.

"No, I swear, ever since- you know what, lemme stop." you playfully rolled your eyes as you skimmed through the comments, "You still with that guy." you read, the comment had originally wrote Eren, but you liked being petty so you chose not to say his name.

"No, I'm not with that guy, and I never was to begin with." you falsely clarified with a sigh, "I've been single." you smirked, "Y'know I see a lot of you in the comments, my dm's are open." you smiled to yourself, scrolling through the men thirsting for you in your comments.

"Okay, I'm gonna head out now. Probably gonna post later, bye y'all." you concluded, quickly ending the Instagram live, checking the time, only to find out that ten minutes had passed. You sighed to yourself, grabbing your purse and heels in your hand, you walked barefeet down the flight of stairs in your house, reaching near the enterance door, sitting on the floor as you strapped on your heels.

Once both of your heels were strapped on, you admired your fresh pedicure, you opened your phone once again to check the time, "Hm, might as well wait outside." you murmured to yourself, upon opening the door, you flinched and jumped back, almost screaming.

"What the- Oh!" you sighed, "Its you." you said as you looked up, seeing Eren standing with his hands in the pockets of his grey colored jeans, looking down at you with a serious face. "Damn, you scared me." you giggled, noticing his tense stare, "Can I help yo-", "Where are you going?" his deep voice questioned, "Out." you plainly state, Erens gaze looked up and down your body, smiling almost amusingly.

"Hm." he nods, "Where's my-" he begins, "Your daughter is at my friends house." you inform him, "Which friend, I need a name." he says immediately after, "Ymir." you state, rolling your eyes. "Just making sure." he clarifies, "Where else would she be?" you squint at him. "Well anyways, nice meeting ya'." you say as you attempt to walk past him.

"You're not going anywhere." you hear him say while his hand grips onto your wrist, "Boy, move!" you groan, Eren pulls you back inside your house, shutting the door behind him. "You must think that I don't care or something, but I watch your Instragram, I check your posts, your lives." he exclaimed, his grip loosening from your wrist.

"You're not single, so stop lying to people." he declares, "Are you out of your mind?" you ask him, a smirk tugging on your lips, "You're with me." he clarifies, sliding his feet out of his slides before entering the living room of your house.

"Eren, I broke up with you two weeks ago." you ranted, "Really? I don't recall." he beamed, throwing himself onto your sofa as he lazily sat on the cushion with his legs spread. "Why are you just standing there? Go change." he scoffed, "Bae, do you wanna watch a movie?" he asked while picking up the remote, "You got any snacks?" he went on.

You wanted to say you were amused, but you were used to this, you walked up to the coffee table in the middle of your living room, standing in front of Eren as he scrolled on Netflix using the remote, "Babe, you're blocking." you looked him dead in the eye as he spoke, you shook your head before sitting next to him on the couch, cursing at yourself mentally.

"You need help changing?" he asked, fingers tracing against the cloth that hugged your waist, his fingers traveled to the zipper at the back, slowly tugging on it, watching as the fabric become loose on you, "Hm, looks like you forgot to wear a bra." Eren smirks as your dress falls from your chest, "Good thing you're not going out anymore." he smiles, his face was close to yours, and you could smell the spearmint gum he was chewing on, paired with the scent of his cologne that had your panties dampening.

You quickly wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him feverishly, you propped yourself onto his lap, your chest pressing onto his and you could feel your nipples hardening as it jammed onto his plain black compression shirt. You instantly felt his hand around your waist, grabbing on your ass as he pulled you closer to him, his other hand rubbed soothing circles onto your spine, causing you to moan into his mouth.

His hands slipped your dress off of you, and his lips instantly latched onto yours once again, after one long, suffocating kiss, he pulled away, kissing on your neck as he whispered, "You know I love you, right?"

Eren's strong arm held onto your back as he placed your head on the cushion, moving on top of you, he kissing down from your neck, to in between your breasts, all the way down your stomach, stopping at your navel. You watched as he slowly pulled your panties off, smiling before hovering over you to kiss you, as he kissed you, you felt him lining the tip of his cock to your wet entrance, "Shit." you cursed as you felt his tip prodding at your entrance, Eren stroked your clit with his thumb while his hand wrapped around his shaft, slowly pushing himself into you.

You moaned when you felt him completely inside of you, his hand cradled the side of your face, as his finger stroked your cheek, kissing the corners of your lips as he slowly moved in and out of you, he watched as your face contorted to match the pleasure you were feeling, eyebrows pointed upwards, eyes wide and your lips parted. He smiled slightly, biting his lower lip as he increased his pace, "Oh shittt." his words leaving his mouth slowly as he looked down at his dick leaving and re-entering your pussy.

"Fuck, baby. 'M gonna get you pregnant, again." he whined, hooking your leg over his shoulder, his thrusts stayed at a steady pace, and his gaze was on you at all times, watching the faces you were making as he stared into your eyes.

His head turned away from your face, to kiss on your calves as he continued to slowly fuck you, savouring the way your pussy wrapped around his length, "Fuck, Eren. I'm gonna come." you moaned, feeling a sudden tightness in your lower stomach, Eren felt your walls clamp down on his dick, causing his dick to tensen inside of you, "S-Shit, me too.." he groans, soon you came all over his cock, feeling the warmness of his come paint your walls as you both slowly panted.

"Fuck." you sighed, Eren panted before smirking, laughing lightly. "I'm gonna move in." he exclaims.

[daisies-daydreams]

Thanks for doing my requests!! I really love reading your posts c:

Wanted to ask if you could write something with König x reader, where he tries to surprise us by taking off his mask for the first time but we walk past him not realizing it’s him at first glance

I wonder if he would be heartbroken or too shocked to react for a couple of minutes LOL

Header Credit: @ave661

Pairing: König x F!Reader Category: Fluff (with a teeny tiny bit of angst) Warnings: Mentions of body insecurities/scars Word Count: 600+

A/N: Hello again! Thank you so much for your request! I thought of a few scenarios in my head for this one, but I hope you enjoy the one I chose!

König cracked a wry grin as he strolled out of the locker rooms. It was typical for you to show up late for your daily workout routine with him…something he’d use to his advantage. Several people eyed him as he scanned the gym, only to find that you were still nowhere in sight. The Colonel smirked before making his way towards the weights.

He whistled to himself as he plucked two dumbbells from the rack. König glanced at his reflection in the mirror before quickly turning his head, a bitter taste lingering on his tongue at the large scar across his cheek. He shook his head before taking a deep breath. The giant man grunted as he flexed his arms, his muscles bulging as he looked around for you while he did his reps.

Still nothing.

König finished his routine and sighed before someone suddenly bumped into him.

“Oops! Sorry about that,” you said as you looked him dead in the eye. König’s mouth quickly became dry as you quickly turned your back to him and made your way towards the treadmills. The giant man blinked.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to tease him, so surely you must’ve recognized him by his build...or at least his eyes…right?

“…Sir? Sir, are you alright?” a stranger asked as they tapped his shoulder. König flinched and spun around, causing the stranger to gasp and back away. “S-Sorry, you were just standing here for a few minutes,” they gulped. König’s shoulders tightened as he flared his nostrils. Christ, a few minutes? He gave the person a quick nod before making his way towards you.

The Colonel puffed out his chest a little as he approached the treadmill you were jogging on. You glanced up from your phone, your brows knitting together as you plucked out your earbuds.

“Do you need something?” you asked with a puzzled look as you stopped the machine. König felt his chest tighten as you continued to stare at him. He frowned.

“Hase...don't you recognize your own Colonel?” he asked as he clenched his fists. He saw the gears turning in your head before your eyes grew as wide as dinner plates. The man watched you with his icy blue eyes as you suddenly put your phone down. His breath hitched when you cupped cup his scarred face in your warm hands. You tilted his head side to side, eyes lingering on his crooked nose. He sighed as you smoothed your thumb over his massive scar.

“König?” you murmured. The Austrian couldn't help but smile as he gave a short nod.

“Ja,” he replied. Your face softened as your hands slid back to your side.

“I was starting to wonder when I'd get to finally get to see you,” you beamed. He suddenly felt a subtle lump swell in his throat.

“So...what do you think?” König asked, his voice wavering slightly like it used to when he was a young schoolboy. There was a sparkle in your eye as the corners of your mouth turned up even more.

“You're exactly how I pictured you...beautiful," you murmured. König’s cheeks flushed as he smiled, his heart feeling as if it were about to burst.

"Danke," he replied.

————

Thank you for reading! ❤️

Taglist: @maybethatfanfictionwriter @depressesoespressorat @yuhhtricki999

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

NOBODY'S SON, NOBODY'S DAUGHTER (VI)

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

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 7.0k

WARNINGS: Angst, mentions of stalking & stalking behavior, creepy men, talks of death, weapons, toxic modeling standards, food issues, dead animals, talks about gore, symptoms & descriptions of dissociation, scars and mentions of intense medical procedures, etc. (Series 18+)

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

Well, I guess brain damage will do that to you. 

Nikto stands in the bathroom connected to the library—at the very end of that train car-like set-up of your loft rooms. His fingers move to the straps of his Kevlar, peeling them off as the loud tearing sounds echo in his ears. 

He can hear you stumbling about in your room, too. Getting ready for bed. Blinking, Nikto grunts as he thinks over your comment from when you first showed him around. He hadn’t been able to get it out of his head since you’d said it. 

Well, I guess brain damage will do that to you.

The man’s vest is taken off, hitting the floor in a heap. Next follows the clips of his thigh holster, and the belt buckle in the loops of his pants. Each joins the pile with a slap of material. 

“Brain damage,” Nikto grunts. 

It wasn’t something he should be worrying about—in fact, it was at the very bottom of the long list of things that even mattered. First was your safety, then the identity of this pathetic individual who was infatuated with you. But it stuck with him nonetheless. 

He’d never had to look after someone with this affliction before. The stumbling; the shakiness. But he’d gone through worse. Yet, at the same time, it was far larger than just his assignment. In his own way, Nikto was…appreciative that you seemed to at least listen to him most of the time. And you were easy to talk to. 

There was a sort of kinship there, as well. In broken things. Maybe that was why he felt himself growing to you.

Striped down to nothing but his mask, the Russian glimpses himself in the mirror and stills. He was always struck by it. 

How something could be so brutally ugly.

Scars ran so tightly over his skin that it was indented like a fissure in the earth. Pieces boldly sliced away and chunks missing. The muscled bulge of his stomach was cut up—thighs with such horrors as cigarette burns and the remnants of tattoos that were carved away like hog’s flesh. That’s what he was, Nikto knew. A hog tied to the ceiling and ready to be butchered. 

He looked at himself now like he was through the lens of a movie, like the ones he would watch as a child—it was far away from him, the edges blurred as his reflection shifted; another being entirely. 

A hand comes up—his hand—and it presses into the material of his mask, large fingers shifting over black coloring as the pale blue of his eyes stares back. None of it felt real. Nikto’s head tilts, but he does not feel the bones in his neck move, only the acknowledgment that they had to have. 

The dark ink of the tattoo over his back peaks itself into existence, the starting of obsidian over his shoulders. Nikto shifts his top half as if seeing it for the first time, unblinking eyes taking in the visage of a snarling bear locking gazes with him. At the side of his left shoulder, the sigil of his old unit burnt his skin. 

“New,” he utters, voice tiny and hoarse. “Gotten after.”

He already knew that…why was he repeating it like he had forgotten sitting in that tattoo shop’s chair? Nikto’s eyes clenched shut, hand coming back up to his masked head and pressing over it. 

He was not beautiful, and no one would ever call him such. He didn’t want them to because it would always be a lie.

With a low growl, his fingers grip his mask and rip it off of his head. 

The thing slaps against the marble of the counter, hitting with a hard clack of the coated synthetic fiber, sliding over the top until it hits the toothbrush cup and causes it to fall on its side. 

Nikto can only stare at the person in the reflection as the sounds swirl in his ears—a world away. 

There’s so little of him left that he recognizes that it scares him. 

Grinding his jaw, Nikto’s pale eyes slip down the length of the damage. His dark hair is cut close to his head, strong bones in his nose and brow above the deep sockets of his eyes—the glare of black and blue bags gives way to his lack of sleep. The wideness of his cheeks leads to a sharp chin; a square face overall. 

But the marks. 

The hyperpigmentation.

Half of a Glasgow Smile peels the flesh back like a tear in paper, and a line is sliced staring at his right ear and curving in a half-circle down to his jaw. Into his hairline, three ragged cuts that had been very badly cauterized to stop him from bleeding out, the hair never able to grow back properly. His neck is the same—a red scar the size of his forearm wrapping from behind and crossing it, little slivers breaking out like a tributary. 

He still wasn’t sure how he survived that one, but then again he hadn’t in the long run.

Nikto’s heart had stopped after all.

There’s a knocking at the door, and the man flinches violently—head twitching to the side. 

“Nikto?” Your voice is muffled by the wooden barrier, and the Russian’s breath is ragged before he blinks away the distance in his expression. “...Are you alright in there?” 

He clears his throat, feet shifting over the plush purple rug you had on the floor as his fingers twitch with tight nerves. But your voice distracts him, fractured brain slowly coming back into focus. 

“We are fine,” his voice is harder than he intends. More snappy. 

Nikto’s eyes find your shadow under the bottom of the door, your feet moving and re-setting as they usually do. He sees you pause. 

“Alright,” your voice calls. “If you need anything, just ask me.”

He watches you stand there for a few seconds longer before your shadow moves back and disappears. Torn ears twitch to your receding weight, eyes beady like a feral dog’s. 

Nikto’s bare body is frozen until he finds himself moving to turn on the water to the hottest setting, stepping into the stream with a hiss and a snap of teeth at the burn. He only turns it hotter. Thinking. Wondering. 

Brain damage.

—

“I can never see color,” you say into the air bluntly, watching the man tie his shoes. He freezes. “Just thought you should know.”

Your eyes see Nikto blink, a silent moment passing between you two before he looks up slowly, brows pulled in and lids crinkled. 

“...Что?” 

Something swirls in his vision, a deep intrigue and another that’s harder to name. Hidden. Kept under lock.

“I can never see color,” your voice reiterates, trying to put on a show that the only reason you were saying this was because you wanted to—a sign of trust. 

In reality, it was a stepping point. 

A small test even if you felt your face heating—growing hotter by the second. “Same accident that caused my brain damage.” You smile softly, motioning a hand to your head. “Even if I find my soulmate, I won’t be able to tell. Weird, huh?”

It was two hours after your phone call with Yaromir and Galina, and there wasn’t much to dwell on from the two. You’d talked about DNA, Sergi, and why no one was taking your claims seriously. 

All they chose to tell you was that they needed more to build a case off of. Galina was still trying to get DNA samples, and without that or a large break that gave you any idea about who could do this, you were in the dark. All they had was a partial fingerprint on one of the plastic bags. 

Excuses were all you got by the very frustrating end, and your hope had dwindled on every pause over the line, your phone on the coffee table and Nikto watching silently as he placed breakfast in front of you with a firm hand. He’d been quiet today, even more so than usual. You’d even given him more tea last night, though the cup was once more washed and set back by morning. 

And he was stiff too. Tense. 

Today, you made a firm decision to go back to AMA—not because of your shift. You had no intention of staying in that building even if you knew you should; this was a quick visit. You needed to discuss a large gap in your schedule with the CEO, one that had only shown up in the small hours of this morning. 

You really hoped the explanation wasn’t because you were being fried.  

Nikto is still, watching every beat of your pulse and how your fingers play with themselves in front of you. His chest is frozen, eyes unblinking as the paleness of them is similar to a knife’s edge. In your internal fight, you hadn't noticed how long he’d just been watching you…dead to the world of the living. His gaze was so intense once you did realize, that you cleared your throat softly as an awkward uncomfortableness built on your expression. 

Perhaps today wasn't the best time to test your theory.

The man’s fingers twitch, he stands up to his full height, and then moves into the elevator without a single sound. 

Your heart gets stuck in your throat, blinking as you make a confused noise. 

“Nikto?” You turn after him. “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Calling, your feet shift over the rug of your entrance, seeing the void of white as he stands with his hands behind his back and his covered face diligently forward. No words. “I thought we were past the whole lack of speaking thing?”

A chill moves up your spine slowly, and it’s enough to hide away the reason you’d mentioned your affliction in the first place. He was…so stiff again. Enough so that you partially wondered how this person could be the same that had cooked you dinner last night and barked his feral laugh into the chilled air. 

What had changed in one night?

Nikto’s eyes were more of a void than the blackness of his Kevlar. 

Apprehensiveness growing, you move and grasp at your jacket with a twist to your lips, slipping it on softly. No sentences being spoken, you shift into the elevator and stay to the far left of him, taking out your keys from your purse and slipping them into the metal. 

With a jolt, the thing begins moving slowly. 

“Y’know,” you awkwardly laugh. “It would be nice if you responded. I just told you something important to me. I mean,” your anxiety makes you backtrack with a very fake laugh, eyes glancing to the side. He hadn’t moved; was just staring at the space ahead of him. “It’s obviously none of your business,” you wave a small hand, being sly in your word choice. “But I want to be transparent with you about everything going on, especially with how I don’t know if you see color or not. It’s a disadvantage on my part and I—”

“I see color.” Is the monotone, dead response.

I know that. 

��Oh. Good,” you try to smile shakily, hand jerking as it hangs at your side with a low simmer of a pounding pulse. A shimmer of excitement runs through your spine. “That’s good, Nikto, I’m glad that you do. So, if you don’t mind me asking, who’s your s—”

A low growl. “I do not want to.” 

Tension overtakes the small area and your wide eyes stare unabashedly in shock. All eagerness utterly ceases to exist. 

“Excuse me?” You push out your utter confusion, shoulders moving higher.

Surely he didn’t mean he doesn’t want the gift of seeing color. 

No one would ever say something like that. Ever. Even those who’ve gone through Soulmate Psychosis have never stated they didn't want to see the shades and hues of the leaves—the sky or the earth. How the clouds looked when the sun was getting low. Purples and blues, colors you’d only ever be able to try and understand knowing that it would be impossible.

And what did this mean for you? You’d been banking off a confession, but this wasn’t the kind you’d expected.

“It is useless to me,” Nikto avoids your gaze. “Неуместный.”

“I have to disagree,” you stutter, slightly shifting your body to tilt his way. The crafted plan in your head is thrown to the wind. “Nikto, we’re talking about color here. Soulmates. The…the person you’re supposed to be destined to be with—how can you say that? Don’t you remember how the world looked when it was all black and white?”

A low snarl echoes, pale eyes jerking your way as a head snaps. 

“Достаточно!” You suck in a fast breath as the elevator dings, both of you arriving at the ground floor, doors rolling back to the open lobby. “We do not need you speaking to us on such things.” Nikto moves forward, your nose almost bumping into his chestpiece as the scent of rotten wood infects you. Your body takes down a swift breath, head snapping up to watch. “You know nothing!” His face is right above yours, looming, nearly bending your spine over. “Spoiled girl with pretty face—thinks she knows what she wants, yes?” The Russian scoffs, speaking low as your hands clench at the assumption. “Keep this to yourself.”

He turns and stalks away with a hostile grunt, leaving you blankly staring at where his face used to be, the image of his Kevlar mask burning in the back of your mind. A knife of hurt gradually takes place between your ribs, breeding until your lungs are ruthless in its clutch. 

This wasn’t what you had expected.

Nikto glares at Isaak, who had watched with wide eyes and a loose jaw, and not moments later, the doorman quickly averts his gaze to stare at nothing on his desk. The Russian’s pulse is roaring inside of his breast, mind troubled. 

Brain damage. Can’t see color. 

Halfway to the parked car, Nikto’s mind returns to him and he slams his fast feet to a stop. Blinking, as if something in him had changed at that moment, a second of confusion leaked into his hidden expression as he said nothing. Waiting. 

At the small, hesitant movement of shaky feet coming closer, his shoulders slowly tense. 

You come up behind Nikto and shift past, taking the car door in your hand and opening it. Moving inside, you close the barrier to the chilled outside morning with a definitive slam. Darkness, for a moment, enshrouds you. 

Face unyielding and pulled with guilt, you get a small queasiness in your stomach as the seconds pass in the vehicle. 

Maybe you’d been too forward, but Nikto’s response had been…well, explosive. And his comments about color? Who in their right mind would say that? 

“That makes no sense,” you whisper, hand coming up and rubbing at the scar on the back of your head. The one you dreamed would disappear in the small hours of the night as a teenager, remembering the beep of hospital machines and the plastic taste of the tube shoved down your throat. 

Doesn’t want to see color? Your mouth sucks down a shaky breath. I’d trade anything for only three seconds.

The world outside of the windows is gray as Nikto pops the driver's side door open, bending low with a grunt before sitting into the seat. He doesn’t apologize as he shoves the keys into the ignition—starting the engine. The car rumbles to life. 

Maybe you’d been too forward.

“You think?” You whisper to yourself under your breath, tearing your eyes away from the Russian man, grabbing and clicking in your seatbelt. 

Socially, you had grace—were used to carrying it to those horrible parties and events. But talking about more personal matters was another thing entirely from work-life. From designer clothes and when they came out, shoes, and makeup. Sex and alcohol. Everyone at AMA speaks with vanity, and you were included. You knew you were beautiful, you’d been told and retold with every pluck from your eyebrows and spread of lipstick over your mouth; ruthless petting like a cat or a doll—there was never any doubt about that. 

You could speak beauty, but you can’t speak about real love. Call you hopeless, but that was really all you ever wanted. 

Love. Romance. Care and concern. It was addictive to you in every sense—and you just kept coming back for a hit of what you couldn’t have. You’d warned yourself after Yefim, but it hadn’t even taken a month before you had found another man to fixate on; the body of the previous stuck still in your nightmares.

But there was that sliver of something in your gut every time you stared at Nikto; something that didn’t add up. You weren’t deterred—weren’t put off. There was something deeper there that you just had to get to the bottom of first. 

There had to be something he wasn’t telling you about why he can see color.

“If I upset you,” you ease out, tongue like lead and your eyes stuck outside the moving vehicle. Your hands tighten over your seatbelt in small intervals, for a moment mute of what to say. “I’m sorry, Nikto. I was just curious, I won’t pry into your personal matters again; you have my word. Just like talking about your mask.” 

“Good,” Nikto’s hands flex over the wheel. It’s all he says, and even then it’s curt. 

Small-like, you mutter, “Also…thanks for breakfast.”

It had been a small and incredibly healthy—buckwheat porridge. You’d eaten the entire thing with fruit on top and never even glanced at the yogurt in your fridge. The man’s eyes had been sneaking glances the entire time you had brought the spoon back to your mouth, but you weren’t sure if it was to make sure you were liking it, or if you were eating in general. 

It was his job to hover, though. 

Nikto doesn’t respond to your thanks, but his shoulders slightly loosen a bit, eyes blinking from the view of the mirror. 

With a sigh, you keep your mouth shut and sit in silence for the rest of the ride, pulling at loose threads from your jacket pocket. Your fingers tap something firm from the inside, and you pause, blinking down at the dark fabric. 

Your brows furrow, but whatever’s inside will have to wait, because Nikto pulls up to the sidewalk and parks the car with a huff. Like before, he opens your door when he’s outside. 

“Your investigators will come for any package,” he explains as you shuffle and stand, fixing the collar of your coat and glancing his way. It’s like he hadn’t just snapped at you minutes ago—that numb sheet was over his head once more. “You will not take them.”

There seems to be a moment where he waits for confirmation, raising a brow into the cold air that you can only partially see. 

You clear your throat and look away down the street. 

“Sure,” you say. 

…Had he really called me spoiled?

Nikto glares at you, jaw clenching under his mask. He looks you up and down quickly without moving his head, skin tight and scars pulling. Your words in the elevator had… aggravated him, even if he can’t pinpoint why. 

You were messing with his head—and that is an already very broken thing. Yet…your questions weren’t pointless. He knew you’d ask them sooner or later, like a fox to a trap, it was only a matter of time. 

He should have expected this, and while cruelty is his nature, he can’t be that to you. The Russian had snapped too violently in the lobby, and it wasn’t your fault. Even with moments of relative calm, he knew that to be fact. But Nikto was a brooding creature—he picked only between missions and guns to be his avatars. Emotions were a loser’s game, and he would not lose at anything so long as he was living. Nikto was a bloody victor holding the remnants of a fresh kill. Nikto was as much a bear as the one printed on his back.

Pale eyes close, a low snarl stuck in the back of his throat. 

You blink at the arm that gets held out to you. 

“Grab it,” the man doesn’t give away anything; his eyes are ahead and his voice is low like your ability to understand his sudden change.

Every five minutes this Russian was switching between anger and relative tolerance of you. Your brows lightly rise on your forehead, wrinkles forming on your flesh.

Your quivering hand raises and slots itself through his left arm softly, head tilting. 

“As much as I appreciate it,” you speak as he helps you up the curb with a firm pull, side-eyeing you. “I can manage. I’ll ask if I can’t.” A tentative smile. “Last-minute mascara is most of what I trust you with besides the food.”

“There will be less of the former in our future.” He grunts as you shut the door behind you. “We have no plans to do such things.”

“You said that about cooking,” you tease, falling back into seamless flirting, trying to get the man who had cooked you supper back into his skin. “I didn’t know you’d be such an attentive roommate.”

Those light orbs stay pinned to you for a long moment, twisting in like a knife with only a glint in the circles of his blackened pupils. 

There’s a click of the car locking, and the Russian is all but dragging you forward. Chuckling under your breath, you follow as well as you’re able through the front, feet only stumbling for a moment before you can lean your weight to the side and rely on Nikto to keep you straight. It helps, you admit, though he’s a bit more stiff than Aly.  

Your hand rests on his bicep, fingers moving to spread over the hard material and sensing the sinews of his flesh writhe at the action. Nikto huffs under his breath, rolling his shoulders to dispel tension.

Your scent is wafting into his nose like he’d put his head into a tank of ambrosia—your perfume addling his senses, shaming him like a venomous snake being held by a dove.

By an angel. 

“Останови это.” 

You blink and turn to him, humming. “What was that, Nikto?”

The man is tense again, eyes snapping about as he pushes at the front door to AMA, your own nerves becoming apparent, yet, having your distraction here to pull you away from that. 

“Nothing,” he monotones. “Where are we going.”

“Upstairs,” you sigh, walking past the front desk as the women look on in confusion when you don’t stop by. They hadn’t expected you to come in, apparently. It was your job. As you pass pictures and paintings in the hallways, you slowly begin to speak. 

“What color is that one,” your finger points to the frame on the far left. It was a dark shade that moved into a lighter one—Ombré.

Nikto’s feet slow, his attention moving from ahead of you to the side for a fast flash. Gruffly, and feeling his chest tighten at the sensation of you freely touching him above the corrupted flesh, he responds in a clipped fashion. “Blue and Green.”

You hum lowly. “Light blue?”

“Нет. Light green to dark blue.” 

“Oh.” You tilt your head at it as you pass, peeking over your shoulder.  It wasn’t like you could really understand that, but…a small smile pulled at your lips as you turned back forward.

Nikto blinks at it from the corner of his vision, narrowing his eyelids momentarily like a wolf. 

“... We do not understand the fascination with it,” he grumbles. “Color.”

“I don’t want to upset you,” your head shakes. “We don’t have to talk about it—”

“I do not like losing my temper at pointless discussion.” You’re interrupted, and you feel your lips part not at the behavior, but the tone at which he takes. A strange firmness that bleeds into conviction. “It was an…error in my judgments.”

It’s only when you steer him lightly to the right hallway to the elevator that your lips move into a smirk, leaning into him even more. Nikto’s eyes flash with surprise, darting down. 

“Was that an apology, Big Guy?”

“No,” he scowls under his mask, but his body is gaining heat to it. “An observation of character.”

“I think you just apologized to me and don’t know how to admit it,” you move your face close to his just as he had to you in the penthouse, nose brushing the canvas of the lower half of his face covering. You hear his breath hitch, his large frame going still and yet not pulling away. Your matching feet continue to move. 

He seems to lean closer, even, or was that just a trick of the light? 

Your lips release a chuckle, your face begins to burn and your veins pump oxytocin that Aly would be intrigued to learn about. 

You pull back after a bit too much staring into his eyes, saying breathlessly, “I’m more flattered that you think I’m pretty, Nikto.”

His large sigh is all you hear, hand releasing his arm for a moment to push the elevator’s button to the top floor of the building, chuckling under your breath. 

Nikto grumbles but responds with nothing more than a twitch of his fingers when your heat leaves him, motioning his arm again when you come back over. The sudden lapse in your pressured fingers made his spine straighten.

Kliment Fedorov’s office floor is large—very large. It takes up the entire top of the building and his influence seeps down to the very bottom like blackened oil. You’d been here before, as well as seen it from video calls, and while you could have talked to your manager about the gap in your schedule, the fact was that the man was quitting on you. 

Dead birds in plastic bags were a bit too much.

It left you only able to go to the top for any clarification until a new manager could be hired. 

“When we’re in there,” you comment to Nikto, hand going back to touch him. The Russian blinks slowly, fighting how his body wants to sag. “It’s probably best if you don’t speak, okay?” 

Pale eyes narrow, head tilting to the side.

You sigh at the movement, placating him with an explanation. “It’s not that I don’t trust your judgment, but Mr. Fedorov is,” your voice trails off. “He’s very lofty if you get what I mean.”

“Lofty?” Nikto prompts as the elevator continues to move upwards. He seems confused by the word in English. 

Your free hand raises and gestures vaguely before you twist your lips and end on a simple, “Arrogant.” 

“Ah, да,” the large man utters. “I am not a stranger to such, yes?” 

It’s strange how the two of you can just slip past the small arguments that pop up—or, more of the one-sided breaking points and the prodding comments. His words didn’t bother you, and that was different; if your mother had snapped like that, it would be a different story entirely even if you, ultimately, would have let it pass like the rest. 

“Do you really think I’m spoiled?” 

But you did tend to linger on things. 

Before there’s an answer from Nikto, who grunts under his breath, the main door opens with a small ding. Sharing a glance, you shake your head with a quirk of your lips and walk out with a tiny pull at his arm. 

You lean and whisper, “It’s okay, I forgive you.”

Nikto doesn’t like how his heart constricts like there’s a vice around it—eyes snapping back. He holds back a flinch.

From there it’s checking in with the secretary and being waved in by her hand, already talking to someone else on the phone and typing away on her computer. You hum under your breath, and Nikto feels your hand jerk. He glances over as the doors get closer, calmed down at least for now. 

“You are worried.”

“Only a little,” you mutter, brushing down your jacket, feeling that bulge of something in the pocket. 

“Do not be.” The masked man looks forward after studying the layout of the floor—where the emergency exit was and the most efficient places to take cover. 

Easy for you to say, you huff. Nikto had a very stiff way of comforting people. 

And then you’re knocking on the door, and a voice is telling you both to enter.

—

“Lovely Seraph!” The CEO’s bald head is as shiny as you remember it, and those fly-like eyes are beady enough to make it seem like they move through you instead of at you. “Welcome, come, sit!” 

A hand is waved from behind a large mahogany desk, a round face nodding quickly as you smile although it’s not entirely real.

“Mr. Fedorov,” your voice is light and airy—a fake tone of elegance. It comes easily. “It’s so good to see you again. I hope everything is well?”

“Ah,” he laughs, Nikto helping to guide you along even if the room is sparsely decorated beyond potted plants and a large rug. “It is going well, my dear. Very well.” 

Eyes slip down your body, past your modest clothes. Something moves behind Fedorov’s expression, shifting. Nikto is a firm brick beside you, only letting you leave when the chair is in front of you. You slide him a thankful glance and slip away, grasping the side of the seat and moving into it with little trouble. 

“My dear, I hadn’t expected to see you in last year’s collection.” You blink, eyes darting down to stare at the shirt you wear—it isn’t anything fancy or eye-catching. But it was expensive. 

“Oh,” stuttering a moment, you try to play off a suddenly tight laugh. “M-my apologies, Sir. It must have slipped my mind this morning—”

“I will send the newest to you, don’t fret,” Fedorov smirks. “We can’t have one of our best ladies wearing rags.” 

A spike of anger levels itself at your throat like a knife, and Nikto, who had moved like a shadow to stand at the far wall with his hands behind his back, feels his pupils constrict. 

“You don’t have to do that,” you clear your throat lightly, looking to your guard quickly. “I don’t need any more presents, Sir, I promise.”

“Nonsense.” Kliment dismisses you, splaying his hands from where they rest on the desk. “You’ll enjoy them. Very nice collection this year. My gift to you for your success here.” You shrivel in at his next comment. “Your last photoshoot was…just exquisite, my Dear. Those white tones look heavenly on you.” 

Swallowing down saliva slowly, you shift your thighs and let your arms circle your waist, feeling naked as gray eyes move your frame. 

But you can’t say anything. 

“Thank you, Sir,” you push out tinily. Nikto’s temper flares from across the room, eyes sparking up in a deep display of rage. He goes to take a step forward, not even knowing what he’s going to do, but, as if sensing this, your eyes snap over and you level him with a mute command. 

Nikto’s boots still, the heel only half raised. 

You twitch your head in a fraction of a shake, and he’s settling back to the wall with a glare and a hard clench to his hands. A growl is trapped in his esophagus, and you’re surprised that Kliment hasn’t gone up in flames because of it. 

“Of course!” Fedorov laughs. “I personally arranged your schedule. I know what’s best, hm?” 

“I was here to ask about that, actually,” you try to move the subject on, feeling dirty as Nikto silently fumes. “The gap starting in two days? I’m sorry, but I wasn’t sure what that meant and I wanted to come in personally and ask.”

Fedorov’s expression sours, scowling. “Those investigators. Messing with my work—won’t let you come in, Seraph, see. Horrible people think we can’t put up with silly little boxes and mail.”

You shakily take an inhalation and chuckle, lips twisting down and eyes dead still. 

Silly little boxes. What would he do if he got a box full of dead birds or a bomb? Then again, he never would—he’d have someone else open it for him.

The CEO continues with his hand moving to grab papers from his side, sliding them to you slowly as you look down at the material with curious eyes, seeing shiny gray signatures and large looping words. The realization is as rapid as a knife to the neck.

Party invitations.

Your heart drops, bones like steel inside of your flesh. The room is suddenly far too small.

Not this again. Fuck no, not this. 

“I took the liberty of confirming your attendance since you can no longer be here all the time—you’ll be doing,” fly-eyes glint. “... crowdfunding, if you will. You remember what to do. You used to be our best seller for investments.” 

“Sir…I,” you fight the bile in your throat, the world swirling. Not again. I tried so hard to get out of it. Fedorov doesn’t care.

“It will also get you out of the main city spotlight!” He smiles. “I’ve emailed you the bookings and hotels—clothes to be sent.” Arrogant lines on his face. “The dresses.”

Fedorov smiles as you stare blankly, lips slightly parted; your fingers curl in to try and stop the shaking. 

“But!” You flinch at the loud exclamation, and this time, Nikto does take a step forward, hand brushing his Beretta without your knowledge. “That’s all I have for you today. The two days you have to yourself to pack and get ready, yes?”

What could you say to this?

You can’t say you won’t do it—you’d be out of a job and out of a stable income. Your mother would only say it was your fault, and that would be the extent of her help; with the stalker…you had to admit being away was the best, but doing parties again…

It made you want to shrivel up and die.

“If that’s what you think is best, Sir.” Fedorov shakes his head, chuckling and sending a layered smile that peels his skin. 

“I do. I know what the company needs—and what it needs is you, my lovely Seraph. Our angel from the heavens,” he smirks vilely. “Sending us down precious money instead of bread. You’ll do well away from the building for a while. Let things cool down, you see.” 

And thus it’s settled with a meaningful look and a passage of papers, your quivering hands taking them up, not missing this time, and trying not to strangle them in your palm. 

“Thank you, Sir,” you whisper, not at all thankful. Your mind already runs to times and dates—small talk and comments about your ailments. The explosion and the stalker are going to be hot topics. You would be mobbed. 

But that was exactly what the man wanted. 

“Quickly now, go home,” Fedorov motions. “Be safe—remember to limit your food, Seraph.” A glance is sent to your stomach. “Have you been following your diet?”

“We need to leave,” Nikto speaks up in a sharp bark. “Сейчас.” 

You see the CEO look over quickly as if forgetting someone else was here when looking at you. His face moves into a hard sneer at the sight of the large man. 

“And who is this?” 

“Nikto,” you explain quickly. “He’s my—”

“Yes, Girl, I know who he is.” Kliment’s voice is low. “Keep him on a tighter leash. Dismissed.” 

You nearly stumble when getting out of the chair. 

A hand grabs at the small of your back, pushing you forward quickly, though not unkindly. Nikto’s face is rigid under his mask, lines hard and eyes narrowed. Over his shoulder, he throws a heated glance at the man at the desk, but all he does is smirk like a crocodile. If he were any lesser, he’d have no problem getting into Kliment’s face—Nikto knew the man would pose no challenge to him, he couldn’t even shine a light. 

“Nikto,” you utter, putting a hand to his side. 

The Russian re-focuses, attention returning. 

Your feet skid, shoes slipping at the force he guides you along until you’re back out the door and walking back to the secretary. “Slow down.”

Immediately, Nikto’s hands leave you, and you come to a swift stop with a deep breath in your mouth. Hands out, you shake them for a moment and try to calm your heart. 

“Thank you,” you say under your breath, hand moving to rub the back of your skull. “You, uh,” trying to lighten the suffocating air, you blink at his chest. “But I told you not to speak.”

“What was that?” He growls. “You let people speak like that to you?” 

“It’s not that serious.” It wasn’t anything he could change. “He’s arrogant, I told you.”

“He’s—”

“Why do you care,” you stare at him, suddenly defensive. “It’s my job—just like yours, I can’t lose it.”

Pale eyes sizzle. “That is different.”

You laugh despite yourself. “It’s really not.” Shaking your head, you brush past him slowly, gaining back your senses. “Even if I want it to be, this is all I’ve got going for me.”

Shadows walk beside you, keeping a close eye as the secretary doesn’t look up from her work as you both pass. “It is causing you to be stalked, Whelp. It is not sane to stay.”

You’re silent at that, taking Nikto’s tactic of steel lips and a dead stare ahead. 

Beauty was all you had. He could never understand that.

“We have two days.” Uttering in the elevator, you sigh. “Even if I don’t like it—it’ll get us away from AMA. That’s the most important part, and one that even I can’t argue with.”

You don’t want to go to the parties. Not even an ounce of you was eager for it. For what was expected. 

Nikto’s hands go to grasp the top of his vest’s collar, hanging as he thinks. The Russian can’t snap at you for that, it was true. Getting away was good, but it meant he had to memorize more floor plans and re-learn routines. No matter, he could adapt if it came to that. 

He hums to himself, blinking. 

“Very well. That I agree with.” Nikto pauses. “But I do not like that man. Like…” he snarls, “bald snake.”

A shocked snort exits you, your hand coming up to cover your mouth. Silence settles for a bit between you two as you process everything. Your teeth bite at your lip, leaning toward him delicately.

“...I was thinking frog.”

Nikto’s eyes spark, looking down at you from behind the black smudge of his sockets. 

“That is better.” He comments. “Да. Frog.” You both lock eyes and you feel your lips pull in a small smile, your face losing a sliver of that fear that moves in your DNA as of late. The truth comes out as vulnerability.

“...Do you think it’ll work?” Your question makes him stare, head tilting. 

“What?”

“Leaving.” The elevator nears the ground floor. “Do you think it’ll stop him?”

Nikto had said he would never lie to you. 

“I do not know,” he speaks slowly, feet shuffling as his shoulders roll. “Do you?”

“I don’t know if I need to worry about the stalker more,” you chuff without any amusement, “or the parties I have to go to.”

Curiosity moves in his pale orbs, swirling at your confession to him. Nikto stores it for later, humming as the door opens and he moves—sticking out an arm that you easily loop with your own. 

He walks slower, now, lips open as he hesitates for a moment. As your face is far away, expression open to the world, the Russian eases out, “I do not think you are spoiled, yes? I should not have said such things about your character. Do not apologize to me for it.” 

“Everyone loves apologies, Nikto,” you joke even as your heart swells—heat coming up your neck. “It’s human nature to believe you’re not in the wrong. There’s no need to—”

“I do not like when you apologize. So do not.” He walks you forward. “Stand your ground. Speak freely.” 

“That usually hurts people’s feelings,” you state in an utterance. 

It’s a good while before Nikto answers you, and when he does you glance over to find his eyes already looking at you—but the makeup is wrong, it isn’t as dead as they always seem to be. 

They were nearly soft if that was even possible. Hidden behind a half-lidded layer of darkness. You blink, feet almost stumbling as you lean into his arm. 

Tell me, your mind begs this beast. This monster who never shows a sliver of his face—who holds scars more numerous than you can even imagine. You don’t even know why you want him, and that scares you. Tell me I’m yours. 

“Then those people are not worthy if they can not handle the truth,” Nikto grumbles, shifting his head away. 

The connection is broken.

You focus on the way you hold his arm as you both walk past the front desk, taking the weight and heat of it in little by little until you have to hold back a shiver. Even stretching your fingers, you couldn’t grab around the entire thing—much like it would be fruitless to try with his thighs. Even his waist would be difficult. 

So consumed in the thoughts of Nikto, slowly taking you over, you both walk past the front desk swiftly. 

Only when you see the flash of a square object do you begin to slow—Nikto was having none of it.

“Do not.” His arm shifts out of yours, and you startle before his limb loops your waist, nearly stapling you to his side. 

“I didn’t even move to it,” you huff, looking up at him, frown over your lips. 

“You were thinking it,” he grumbles, pale eyes sliding like water over your face. “Stay.”

“Woof, woof,” you sarcastically utter. 

You can feel the tension in him—in you. 

And then you push open the front door, and the box is left on the counter without another glance.

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