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kaciidubs · 10 months ago

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Before the After Party

❣ Summary: Who said that celebrating had to wait until the after party? ❣ ❣ Word Count: 2.2k ❣ Warnings: Semi-Public Sex [award show dressing room], slight dom! Hyunjin, smut, desperation, quickie, creampie, allusion to multiple rounds ❣ ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣ ❣ Additional Tags: Hyunjin is referred to as Hyune, Baby, Reader is referred to as My Muse, My Love, this was a long time coming, i know ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

“...Stray Kids!”

The sounds of your screams blended with the screams of the hundreds of Stays surrounding you as you watched the boys react to their name being the one called from the pool of other great artists nominated - tears of pride stinging at your eyes as you watched them get up to accept their award.

Listening to the heartfelt, and truly underprepared speech Chris was giving, your eyes scanned over each of the boys; your smile growing impossibly bigger at each of their expressions until you reached the end of the line - a sharp pair of eyes easily catching, and holding, your gaze.

Hyunjin tried his best not to react, but even from the VIP seats you could see the twitch in his lips as he stared at you - the almost break in his facade being enough for him to cut eye contact first, looking out to the audience in front of them.

Tuning back into the speech, clocking Felix’s voice now resonating through the speakers, you did your best to pay attention to the roll call of thanks he was listing but you found yourself looking toward a certain dance line member yet again.

To your non-surprise, his eyes were already set on you and you decided to challenge him, discreetly sending him a small flying kiss with a smirk - the thought of flirting so openly with him sending a chill down your spine.

He looked away again, giving you the peace of mind to catch the last few words of Felix’s speech before joining the audience in cheering for them one more time as they stepped away from the mic; but, as fate would have it, you looked back at Hyunjin one last time to catch him shake his head at you, eyes narrowing in a sign you’ve seen time and time again.

Their performance seemed to go by at the speed of light, and before you knew it you were taking the commercial break to fish your phone out of your clutch, catching a glimpse of the notification illuminating the top of the screen.

My Artist 💘: Dressing room 💌

Excusing yourself out of your seat - ever so thankful for the VIP pass Skijigi had given you - you made your way off of the side stage and into the hallway toward backstage; quickly spotting one of the Skijigi staff waiting for you with a small smile.

With a curt nod, and a brief rush of embarrassment because surely they know why your darling boyfriend summoned you, you let them lead you through the bustling hall until they stopped a few feet in front of a door labeled ‘Stray Kids’ - the rest was up to you.

“Thank you,” you hummed softly, ducking your head in a small nod before knocking on the door, “Hyune? It’s me.”

You barely had the chance to let your hand fall away from the door before it swung open, a hand wrapping around your wrist before you were being pulled into the dressing room with the door slamming shut not even a second later.

“Hyunj-!”

Your shocked gasp of his name was cut off with a pair of lips slotting against yours, your body being crowded against the wall with hands on either side of you caging you in - though, just as you started to get over your initial shock to kiss him back, he pulled away with a bright smile.

“We won.”

“Y-Yeah,” you blinked back at him, willing your heart to be still as a small smile found its way onto your lips, “you guys were ama-”

His lips met yours again in a ravenous kiss, taking the off guard opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, brushing against yours in a heated taunt that promised more.

Your hands flew to hold onto his shoulders, your knees daring to give out from under you with the way he was trying to devour you as if you were his favorite meal.

“Mm- Hyune-”

His right hand dropped to lift your leg, the skirt of your dress raising as he hooked it over his slim waist; slotting himself between your legs effortlessly and grinding against your clothed core.

You couldn’t hide the shivering moan that escaped you, your head falling back against the wall, leaving his lips to occupy themselves with the free real estate of your neck. “God, baby…”

“Want you,” he breathed against your neck, licking at the beginnings of a hickey, “can I? Can I have you, my muse?”

You didn’t even have to think twice, nodding quickly and bringing your hands to his face to move him away from your neck for another breathtaking kiss.

Guiding your leg back to the floor, he blindly led you away from the wall before leading you toward the closest surface he had memory of; the makeup desk spanning the opposite wall. With careful steps, it wasn’t long before your lower back pressed against the edge of the desk, a disgruntled hum vibrating into his mouth as you bit his bottom lip.

Hyunjin groaned, a low, velvety sound that had your toes curling in your heels, and he pulled away just enough for his lips to still graze yours, “We have to be fast - on top, or bent over?”

“On top,” you breathed, a hand cupping the back of his head, “bend me over when we get back to the hotel.”

A grin stretched his lips, and within seconds the beautiful designer dress you wore was hiked up your legs and hips and you were sitting on the sturdy platform of the desk, the award winning artist quickly filling the space between your thighs.

His arm slid between your bodies and his fingers quickly found the damp crotch of your panties, simply tugging the gusset to the side to run his middle and ring fingers through your lips; collecting your arousal on the digits before slowly sinking them past your walls.

Your head fell back, lips parting to let an airy moan flutter through until his hand covered the lower half of your face, undoubtedly getting what remained of your lipstick on his palm in the process.

“My love, as much as I’d give anything to hear your pretty sounds, we should probably be quiet too, shouldn’t we?”

He didn’t wait to hear your response as his fingers set a steady pace, aiming to work you open as efficiently as possible while muffled moans vibrated against his palm.

Your nails grazed against the buzzed cut of his nape, the reminder of his fresh cut making your pussy clench around his fingers.

Tilting your head back down, you were met with his piercing gaze immediately; fiery brown eyes studying every little detail in your face that remained free of his hand.

“Are you going to be quiet if I move my hand?”

Eyes softening, your eyebrows sloped together and you nodded as best you could - you would.

Hyunjin freed your mouth in favor of tugging down the front of your dress, the straps having already fallen from your shoulders, allowing him to easily free your breasts from beneath the neckline. Licking his forefinger and thumb, he quickly found purchase on your left nipple; rolling the nub with intermittent pinches that had your back arching, silently begging him for more.

All the while, his fingers were stilled inside of you in favor of his thumb now gently flicking across your clit, not enough to overstimulate you on pleasure, but just enough to have your legs trembling at his hips.

“H-Hyunjin.” The whine tumbled softly from you, holding more words than you could say without letting the flurry of moans slip through as well - and he heard you clearly.

Sliding his fingers from inside of you, this hand expertly fiddled with his belt until it went slack around his hips, the button and zipper of his pants coming undone in less than a minute before they were shoved down with his boxer briefs just enough for him to free his dick; hard, dripping, and aching for your warmth.

He spread the remnants of your slick along his length before gripping the base, wasting no time in pressing the tip against your folds and pressing his hips forward, slowly but surely sheathing himself inside of your pussy.

Your hand flew to your mouth in record speed, clamping it shut just as a loud, wanton moan began to escape you - you never stood a chance once he was inside of you, his dick reaching the deepest parts of you, and with this position he felt even deeper.

He chuckled knowingly, gazing at you with a warm fondness despite his hand now gripping your hip like a vice, “You’re okay, love, just keep your hand there for me.”

Nodding once again, your free hand moved to hold onto the back of his neck as he adjusted his other hand to cup your breast instead, your sensitive nipple now rubbing against the smooth inside of his palm.

Without another moment of delay, he dragged his hips back slowly, biting back a sharp hiss as pleasure shot up his spine, before snapping forward twice as fast; jolting your body against the desk and sending a few stray makeup tools and products rattling. Repeating the process made a few objects fall, but neither one of you had the heart to care - at least, not in the moment as he set on a fast and deep pace that filled the dressing room with the sound of his skin against yours.

Your palm vibrated with the moans that flowed freely from you, the attempt of keeping them contained now seeming like a joke - part of you wondered if offering him a blowjob instead would’ve sufficed, but after being witness to his borderline animalistic rhythm, the blowjob would wait for the hotel.

Hyunjin gritted his teeth, his head bowed beside yours as he directed all of his energy toward fucking you, reveling in the pinch of your nails against his neck, and the unrelenting clenching of your walls on every inward thrust.

“T-Thank you,” he grunted breathlessly, the hand keeping you anchored on the desk squeezing you more, “thank you, thank you, my love. Thank you for s-supporting me, for believing in me- f-fuck- Thank you.”

Wrapping your legs around his hips, you locked him in for shallow thrusts, wanting him closer - needing him closer; if you couldn’t use your words, then you would use your body.

His hand slid to your lower back, dragging you to the edge of the desk and giving him a better angle to hit, “You’re everything to me - do you know that? My muse, I mean it.”

Your hand slid up to his hair, past his undercut and into the once beautifully done ponytail, partially sliding the hair tie out of place in the process.

“N-No matter how many awards we win,” he lifted his head, prompting you to open your eyes and lock onto his entrancing gaze, “you’ll always be my greatest win.”

Dropping your hand, you pulled him into an earth shattering kiss, teeth and tongues clashing as your orgasm took you by storm; the only indicator being the rapid fluttering of your pussy around his cock.

He moaned into your mouth, releasing your breast to cradle the back of your neck - one, two, three thrusts rocking your body before he stilled with a choked groan, his dick twitching as his cum coated your walls.

As your breaths slowly came to a calm, so did the feverish motions of your lips, Hyunjin parting with a few pecks and gently untangling himself from your hold.

“How was it? Are you okay?”

Huffing out a breathless laugh, you gave him a glittering smile, “It was amazing, Hyune, and I’m more than okay, but I think we should clean up and head back to the others.”

Returning your smile, he slowly slid his softening length out of you, shivering slightly at the overstimulation before groaning at the bead of cum that budded from your slit.

Clocking the way his tongue peaked out to lick his lips, you laid your hand on his chest with an incredulous laugh, “No, we are cleaning up and meeting the rest of the boys!” You slid your hand from his hair and used it to tug your panties back into place, effectively cutting off his peep show for the time being.

“You’re no fun,” he pouted, tucking himself back into his underwear before working on fixing his pants back up.

“Oh, yeah?” Raising an eyebrow while managing to squeeze your breasts back into the slightly over stretched neckline, you cocked your head to the side, “I guess you don’t want to see what I have planned for the after party, then - since I’m no fun?”

The look of horrified betrayal that fell on his features was enough to send you into a giggle fit, which was more than enough for him to drop his act, giggling along with you.

After he helped you from the makeup desk, you helped him fix his ponytail while he used a makeup wipe to clear up any lipstick stains left on his skin - mourning their loss until you were both back in the safety of your shared hotel room.

“To the after party?” He mused, offering you his arm.

Looping your hand around it, you nodded happily, “To the after party.”

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @j-onedrabbles, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @sometimesleeknows, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @maximumkillshot, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @specialstay, @broken-glowsticks, @s00buwu, @junglyric, @tinyelfperson, @jj-stay, @katsukis1wife, @inlovewithmusician, @keen-li, @armystay89, @main-character0, @vampcharxter, @ddyskz, @prettymiye0n, @bbgnyx, @ivyisnotokay, @bahng-chrizz, @milknhoneyracha, @hann1bee

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

#skz smut #stray kids smut #hwang hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin smut

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pelova4president · 8 months ago

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Shadows are to protect IV

Victoria Pelova x Putellas!Reader

shadows are to protect I, II, III

summary~ You finally get your happy ending.

So you disappeared. You booked a flight to The Netherlands and didn’t tell anyone. You wanted to see the country Victoria talked about so much. The little cafes and restaurants she visited when she was there.

You built your own little world, a bubble where no one could hurt you and you couldn’t hurt anyone you cared about. You wouldn’t mind living here. Everyone did their own thing and there were dogs and parks everywhere.

De Oranje Leeuwinnen were playing a few days after you had arrived and you couldn’t let the chance of seeing Victoria play in front of her own people slip.

The stadium was absolutely packed. The orange shirts with the names of female players on them and red, white and blue flags on everyone’s cheeks. Even though Spain had won the World Cup there wasn’t this much attention for the Spanish team. It was something you were jealous of.

It’s been days since you disappeared, Alexia hasn’t texted or called you yet and you were grateful for that. She never knows what’s going through your head but if you don’t reach out in a situation like this, she knew she had to leave you be. She’d be there if you wanted to talk and you didn’t really desire that the past few days. But now you did.

In the hopes that she would pick up in the middle of the day you called. You sat in a little bakery somewhere in The Hague and it felt like the right time.

Three rings had gone by before you got someone on the other end of the phone. “Hola hermanita… Hola?” she said. “Ale, you got time?” you asked her. You heard her laugh, “Not really but you know i’ve always got time for my pequeña princesa.” you could imagine the big grin on her face. You groaned at the stupid nickname. She knew you hated it when she called you that.

“Whatever, i’m talking about like at least an hour. I’ve got a lot to tell you.” you said taking a sip from the overpriced latte. “Sí, i’ve got time for you.” she sighed.

She knew you probably had a lot to talk about. Alexia hadn’t really pushed you to talk about it because she knew you weren’t a great talker and if you really wanted to and if she needed to know, you would tell her.

And so you told her everything, about going to Arsenal and how it had been the first few weeks. How it wasn’t your home and how you felt so so lost there. You told her about Alessia, that she had your heart and she broke it just like that. That you didn’t really want to come out of bed the days after and that that was the reason why you visited her when you did. And about Victoria Pelova, the girl that has been nothing but good to you. Alexia laughed at that, she knew you’d get along, that’s why she told you to give the girl a chance.

“I’m in The Netherlands now Ale, i don’t know what to do now.” You sighed into your phone. “Joder hermanita, you already know what to do. I already know you got your ticket to the game. Dile que la amas.” Alexia always knew what to say. Sometimes it was nice to have a big sister that can tell you what to do. “And next time we play against England, just know i’ll get back at Russo.” she deadpanned. And a sister to protect you.

You had texted Victoria good luck before the game. ‘Hey Vicky, i just wanted to let you know i’ll be at your game today. Please listen to the voicemail i’ve left you a few days ago. Ik hou van jou, je kan het.’ you sent her.

Sitting on the third row you got a pretty good views of the game. It wasn’t a really important game or anything and the chance the orange team won was very high so you weren’t that nervous for the brunette.

In the 17th minute Brugts scored from the penalty area and not long after van de Donk scored too. The first half ended in 3-0.

As the players walked to the changing room you looked for Victoria. When you finally found her eyes, hers were already focused on you. Your lips formed an apologetic smile and you waved at her. She gave you a little smile before disappearing into the tunnel.

The second half went even smoother for the home side. Esmee Brugts got her hattrick and Damaris and Roord scored one each. It was the 88th minute when Kerstin Casparij made a dribble forward. She passed two midfielders and made a perfect cross. The white ball landed on Vic’s foot and she volleyed the ball into the corner of the net.

It was just an Euros qualifier but for you it was much more. You knew today was now or never. It was 8-0 but the crowd was just as loud as it was when the first goal was scored.

The game was over and you saw the team do their lap around the field. You loved how involved they were with their fans, especially the kids. Victoria was somewhere at the back, still signing a little girl’s Arsenal shirt when Damaris spotted you and ran towards your section.

You knew the player well. Damaris used to play for Spain but decided to move to the Dutch team and you got why. She was the first one to do something about the Spanish management and you admired her for it. Your ex-teammate climbed over the fences and when she finally got to you she was out of breath. She gave you a hug and greeted you. “Don’t tell Vic i know but she listened to your message before the game. She’s been sad all camp and doesn’t want to listen to anyone. Just wait at our hotel and i’ll get you in.” she told you before sprinting off again.

So now you were waiting on the orange bus full of players to arrive at some fancy hotel in Amsterdam. You looked like a stalker, dressed in all black with Victoria’s black hat and hoodie on.

After fifteen minutes of waiting the Dutch team finally arrived. All the girls walked past, well everyone except for Vic and Dama.

Damaris walked towards you with two bags in her hands, one with 21 on it and the other with number 17. Victoria walked behind her, confused as why she was carrying her bag inside until she saw you.

“Victoria, you better figure this out because i know you want her and she wants you, okay?” she told the girls strictly. The Arsenal player nodded silently and stood still in front of you.

“Did you hear the voicemail i left you?” you asked her. Her eyes weren’t focused on you but on the big neon letters of the hotel. The blue light was shining on her, making it look like she coloured her hair blue.

“Yeah. I got it, so tell me then, what happened?” her eyes traveled to your face. It was hard to read her at the moment.

“When i came into Arsenal i didn’t know anyone and i was scared and tired of being alone. Alessia helped me at that time until she didn’t need me anymore. One evening i found out she had a boyfriend all along. I was having a hard time after that and went to Alexia for a few days when you texted me.” you smiled at the thought of her text, she really did help you. “Alexia told me to give you a chance and i’m happy i did because you mean so much to me. I don’t think i would be playing football anymore if it wasn’t for you. And then Alessia didn’t like that, she kissed me that evening when you saw us but i told her that i didn’t want her. I swear. I only want you. Te amo, Vicky.” you pleaded.

You were still standing before her, you took your hat off and your right hand was in your pocket while your left was fidgeting with the strings of the black hoodie. “Say something, please.” you begged the brunette. Her silence was killing you.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve just let you explain but i didn’t. It’s just that when i heard Alessia talking to you and then kissing you..” Victoria sighed.

“I get it, you shouldn’t say sorry for that. Can we try again, i really want us to work out.” you smiled.

Victoria’s signature smirk appeared on her face and she leaned in for a kiss. “por supuesto cualquier cosa para ti” she grinned into your neck. “You’ve done your Duolingo sí?” you laughed at her.

“I did, just for you. And maybe just a little bit for when i meet your sister, got to make a good impression on La Reina hmm?” she teased.

A/N finally done!!! I don’t even know how this whole series was planned but this is it, happy ending and all

#shadows are to protect #woso fanfics #woso community #engwnt #arsenal wfc #barca femeni #victoria pelova #woso x reader #victoria pelova x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #arsenalwomen #espwnt #nedwnt

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enchantedflameandflower · 2 months ago

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Billy Butcher fic! 18+ only for sex, mild spanking, smut, piv, Butcher’s fingers and a bit of soft dom for fun (also some h/c)

“His gaze always seemed to linger when she wore it and it didn’t seem he was able to resist the way it fell off her shoulder and clung to her body in her sleep.

"Ya know this one's my favorite..." he murmured low against the shell of her ear plucking at the material.

"Mmmm..." she hummed in reply, her eyes still closed. "You want to borrow it?"

Billy made a noise then brushed his mouth over the shell of her ear again, tugging her hips closer. "I wannna do unspeakable, dirty things to ya while it's rucked up over your tits, tanglin’ your arms together while ya gasp my name."”

karl urban masterlist

taglist: @2dead2function @secretdreamlandmentality @nosebeers @vavafaure1994 @weallhaveadestiny @str8-jack-it

~*~*~ more under the cut!~*~*~

direct link to part 1

Part 38 (you don’t need to read previous parts to enjoy this!)

Addison did not see Butcher for days after the incident at Vought tower. He barely answered his phone and when he did it was only to talk for a second and beg off, then maybe text her later. Maybe. Thanks to M.M., she knew where Billy was, but he never actually said it.

Nearly five days later, M.M. called her to let her know they were releasing Billy from the hospital. She was almost shocked he didn’t leave on his own AMA, but that must mean it was just as bad as she imagined. Or maybe worse.

She didn’t hesitate to call Billy’s phone and she didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until he answered.

“‘Lo, sunshine.” His voice was hoarse and gravelly but it was perfect to her.

“Can you come over?” she asked without preamble. She wouldn’t force him to tell her where he was or talk about anything he wasn’t ready to. But she wanted to catch him before he left and ended up somewhere else, unwilling to move again.

He was silent for a very long moment. “Aye,” he finally answered. “I’ll be there in a bit.” He paused. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah I’m okay. Just want to see you.”

“Alright then. Soon, yeah?”

The exhaustion in his voice broke her down for a second but she pulled herself back together.

“Yeah.” ~*~*~

The first two nights at her place he didn’t come to bed at all. His bruises had started to fade, his cuts were healing, but she could still see them, and she could still see the devastation in his expression.

He had told her what happened at Vought but she knew there was something more. Something he wasn’t telling her. Something awful. He was different now, she could see it in his eyes.

The third night she finally got him to come back to bed with her and he didn’t have any nightmares but she didn’t think he ever slept at all. The next night they started once more, in excess, worse than ever. But he wouldn’t talk about it. Not yet, he mumbled.

Addison didn’t know what else to do but wrap her arms around him, so she did and he fell against her chest. In the next moment, she felt his body shaking and she realized he was crying, silently, his tears seeping into her shirt as he seemed to completely break down.

She tightened her hold without saying a word and she felt the tears start stinging in her own eyes. She wouldn’t let go, no matter what. After that he finally fell into a deep sleep and stayed that way for hours. She wondered if it was the first time he had truly slept in weeks. The next day he was miles better, and even more so the following day, but he still wouldn’t tell her what the weight was he was carrying so heavily. Addison didn’t push, instead just spending the time peacefully together. ~*~*~

A few days later, as the morning light was only just barely starting to filter in around the edges of the curtains, Addison woke so, so slowly to the soft feeling of Billy’s strong fingers. They drifted idly up and down her side over the material of her little nightgown as she burrowed her face against his chest. His hand slipped up to just under the curve of her breast, then slowly back down over her hip and behind to her bottom. Then he repeated the entire path again.

On the third run, she couldn’t pretend to be asleep any longer and she made a soft little noise in the back of her throat, pressing just a little closer to him, nuzzling against his chest. He seemed to have forgotten about his nightmares, at least for now and she felt a swell of utter joy that she could maybe give him a second of peace. She didn’t want to bring it up by asking how he was, so she just enjoyed the moment, humming softly. Maybe he needed this.

Billy took a contented breath and pressed on her lower back, pulling her against him before returning to his gentle strokes over the satiny material. She knew that he in fact knew this nightgown was not silk; it was old and she’d had it forever. His gaze always seemed to linger when she wore it and it didn’t seem he was able to resist the way it fell off her shoulder and clung to her body in her sleep.

“Ya know this one’s my favorite…” he murmured low against the shell of her ear plucking at the material.

“Mmmm…” she hummed in reply, her eyes still closed. “You want to borrow it?”

Billy made a noise then brushed his mouth over the shell of her ear again, tugging her hips closer. “I wanna do unspeakable, dirty things to ya while it’s rucked up over your tits, tanglin’ your arms together while ya gasp my name.”

Addison grinned, finally opening her eyes to look up from his chest and meet his own, so dark she could barely see the hazel. “Well that sounds like a good time,” she whispered in a breathy voice.

“Atta fuckin’ girl,” he grinned at her consent then leaned down to capture her mouth. Though his words were rough, he kept his motions slow and sultry, meant to seduce, stroking his tongue over hers and rubbing her body with deliberate, soft strokes of his palm.

As he disoriented her with the kiss, his big hand slid down over her ass, kneading and pressing her against his quickly swelling length. Addison purred her pleasure and he pulled back from the kiss to let her breathe.

“Do ya think your arse’ll get bigger?” he asked, squeezing again.

Addison laughed softly. “I think all your favorite parts of me will get bigger.”

“Mmmmmm,” he rumbled happily, dipping his head to bite along the curve of her neck. “Can’t wait…” He lifted one hand to cup her breast over her the material, kneading there before retreating again to make good on his promise. His hand slipped under her nightgown where it was resting on her thigh and he caught the hem with his wrist as he pushed it up her body. He helped her maneuver as he did, making sure it was all the way over her breasts then he turned her over, nestling up behind her.

Addison arched her back, pressing her bare bottom against his cock and pushing her breasts out as his big hand slid up to cup them again. He tugged at her nipple until she whimpered then slowly slid his hand down her stomach until he could nestle his fingers against her clit.

She felt his hot breath on the sensitive spot just below her ear as the tips of his fingers slid through her wetness then circled her clit slowly. He only stayed there for a moment though and shifted his fingers down to slide inside of her, teasing.

“Billy…” she moaned his name, his strong fingers starting to stretch her perfectly, a teasing promise of more and bigger things to come.

“Tell me what you want, princess.”

“I -“ she gasped as he crooked his fingers, pressing in even further. “I want all of you.”

She pressed back against his erection and it was his turn to groan.

“Say it,” he rumbled.

“…want your cock, Billy.”

“Hmmm…” he pretended to think while he circled his fingers around her swollen clit again, teasing her higher.

Addison felt the fire inside of her grow even hotter as he edged her closer to release, but stopped before she could reach it.

“What was that love?”

Addison hummed, squirming against his fingers but he held her hips still with his free hand.

“Your cock…need it Billy…”

“You’ll get it then,” he finally gave in. “Need ya on your knees for me now.”

“Condom?” she asked, turning to look back at him before she lost all sense.

“I’m clean,” he answered. “They tested me for everything when I were at - uh, last week. So we’re good.”

Addison almost asked where, even though she knew, but then she decided to let it go. It wasn’t the time. Instead, she turned over on her stomach, tossing her nightgown away, and smiled up at him. “Come and get me then, love,” she teased.

He gave a low, soft moan. “Sure?” he asked one last time, even as he was already moving into place.

She squirmed, letting her ass shake a little for him and he smacked the round cheek, making her purr before she spoke again, her voice a little breathless. “Might as well have some fun before I’m the size of a country cabin.”

He gave a low chuckle. “I’ll still want you the same.” Leaning over her, he bit the curve of her shoulder, then nuzzled a line of soft kisses down the length of her spine.

“This fuckin’ ass,” he rumbled and he grabbed her hips, tugging her up on her knees as soon as he was situated kneeling between her thighs. “Not an offer I’ll ever turn down. I want ya to press your cheek to the pillow there, love, get your arse all the way up in the air for me. Don’t move. Understand?”

Addison could only moan again, her core was aching for him with his knees pushing hers farther apart and knowing he was so close. But Billy Butcher loved to tease and she knew it. She shifted her body back anyway, searching for something, anything. And maybe if she found it he would give in.

But no.

“Mmmmm,” he rumbled, rough and low kneading her hips as he inched back and held her in place. “Such a needy little thing, aren’t ya.”

Addison whimpered a little, pressing her face against the pillows and holding on for dear life. Open to him like this, but without his touch or his cock just made her feel empty, made her want him more. His palm smoothed all the way up her back and back down over her ass, tracing the curves.

“Billy…” she begged.

He finally dipped his hand back down between her legs, pressing one and then two fingers inside of her tight core again. She was already drenched for him and she knew he loved it. After every second or third stroke, he’d glide them around her clit and then he’d slip them back inside.

After a few minutes of this Addison groaned with wanton impatience. It felt so good but she needed more.

“That’s my girl,” he husked in response, “soaking…” He pumped his fingers a few more times before he finally pulled back.

Addison mewed, knowing what was coming and pressed her hips back once more. He caught her around the waist and slapped her ass cheek again, making her jolt and moan, before he positioned her in front of him.

She felt the tip of his swollen cock first, teasing over her folds and she shifted her knees just a little, trying to spread her thighs further apart for him. He groaned and pushed in just an inch. Addison wanted to scream but she whimpered instead, breathing his name. “Billy…” She was desperate but this felt like something he really needed.

“Nice and slow, babe,” he rumbled. “Need it to last.”

And he kept to his word, pressing in slowly, inch by thick inch. Addison tried not to squirm too much but still she fluttered and squeezed around his shaft. He gave a husky moan every time she did and the sound took her even closer to the precipice.

When he pushed in as far as he could he paused there, rubbing his palms over her body prone in front of him and just letting her feel him.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl for me,” he husked. “My girl. Takin’ it all so well.”

After a long second he started to thrust, slowly, pulling back and pushing all the way in while Addison clutched the pillow in front of her, holding on as best she could. He felt so fucking good…

She moaned as he hit that perfect spot inside of her and his hands tightened on her hips. He pulled back and thrust in again, and again, and then suddenly she was coming, whimpering into the pillow as the aftershocks rolled through her and she couldn’t ever remember climaxing that quickly before.

“Fuck Billy,” she gasped, trying to catch her breath, her entire body trembling.

He gave a husky chuckle in response, rubbing his palms soothingly over her back. “Ready for more yet, love?” he rumbled after only a moment, still deep inside of her.

She clenched around his length and nodded her head, not quite able to form words yet.

He started again, slowly thrusting in her body but careful not to overwhelm her or push too far too fast. He moved like he just wanted to stay here fucking her forever.

Eventually, though, he started to pick up his pace, thrusting harder, his grip tight and bruising on her hips, but she didn’t care. It all felt so good. “Billy…close…” she moaned. He slid his arms around her, pulling her up into a sitting position over his lap and then he started to thrust again, pushing deeper inside her. One hand slipped up to squeeze her breast while the other slid down, finding her clit easily.

She turned her head and he caught her in a sultry hot kiss, his tongue rough and possessive. As good as it felt for him to fuck her into the bed, seeing him out of the corner of her eye made her realize she was missing out on all of the view and she vowed to herself that next time he would be under her so she could savor looking at every inch of him.

But this…he thrust deeper and he felt so thick inside of her, filling her completely. She reached for his forearm, gripping it tightly as her head started to spin. “Oh fu…” she gasped. “Please…”

He made a low growling sound from behind her and circled his fingertips roughly over her clit as he continued to push his cock deep inside of her.

She held on to him like a lifeline, trying to prolong the euphoria for as long as she could, but it was impossible.

He bit at the shell of her ear. “Come for me, sunshine,” he husked, his voice gravely and gruff, “come on my cock…”

And she did, almost immediately and hard. A soft cry left her throat as she squeezed tight around him and pleasure exploded within her. His hips stuttered and he pushed himself deep inside her as his own orgasm came over him fast and forceful. He emptied himself inside her, rumbling a deep moan against her ear before he buried his face against the curve of neck and tightened his arms around her body, holding her to him.

Addison clung to him as wave after wave of overwhelming sensation washed through her, and he held her tight against him through all of it. Eventually she felt all strength leave her and he carefully slid out of her, tipping her down to the bed.

“Don’t move, love,” he rumbled in a hoarse voice and he left and returned to help her clean up. After that they laid in bed, just completely entangled, for hours.

It wasn’t until almost noon Addison even spoke again. “Let’s do something…just completely normal. Just once…like we’re normal people.”

He hummed, his eyes still closed but he rubbed at her hip. “Like what, love?”

She turned in his arms, to lay on her side and tilted her head to look up at him. “A movie? Nice and dark. And we don’t have to talk to anyone.”

He looked at her for a moment, his hazel eyes full of some unnamed emotion. But there was real love in there too, somewhere deep down.

“Sounds perfect, sunshine. Let’s go.”

~*~*~

part 39

karl urban masterlist

And we made it to the very end of season 3! When Butcher walks into the office at the flatiron building with that movie theatre soda cup in the last scene, I always imagine he had just come from a long healing bout of time with Addi. As always I have more to come!

Reblogs and likes and comments are appreciated so so much! Thank you for reading! The next part is mostly written but let me know what else you want to see!

#karl urban #billy butcher #the boys #billy butcher brainrot go brr #karl urban brainrot go brrr #billy butcher x you #the boys tv #billy butcher smut #smut #the boys fanfic #karl urban is the man of my fucking dreams #billy butcher fanfiction #billy butcher fic #karl urban fanfiction

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sproutingliliums · 4 months ago

Note

What are some Zutara fanfics you like?

thank you for asking anon! rubbing my hands together and laughing diabolically rn. most of these fics are completed, but i have a few incomplete or ongoing ones listed at the bottom.

The Color of the Stars by bluenebulae this is my zutara bible... i have read this 3 times, and i think it's still my favorite zutara fic. it diverges from canon during the day of black sun. katara and zuko are both captured and thrown into prison and after breaking out together, they become reluctant allies and travel the world in search of the gaang while also trying to warn the other nations about ozai's plans.

they call you refugee by akaiiko

an arranged marriage alternate universe where when zuko is banished, he leaves the fire nation with—actually, the summary does a pretty good job of explaining it: "Zuko goes into exile with a scar, a mission, and a wife." i think i cried the first time i read this.

refraction by caroes3725

this one's my post-war zutara bible. it is maybe the post-war swt ambassador/politician katara slow burn of all time. it is 200k+ words and it's all worth it, i promise! i prommy!!! read it now!!!! <- this along with The Color of the Stars are maybe my favorite zutara longfics. period.

Mending Wounds by FictionIsSocialInquiry

canon divergent fic where katara sees visions of zuko in the foggy swamp. except in these visions he is older, the fire lord, her husband, and he is gentle and loving, and katara feels sick to her stomach! one of my favs!!!!

lost and found by Smediterranea

hakoda discovers a young zuko, injured, and takes him in. beautiful alternate universe fic where zuko grows up in the southern water tribe with sokka and katara.

The Things We Hide by Lykegenia

katara is held in the fire nation as a political prisoner following the southern water tribe's defeat after an assault launched by fire lord ozai during sozin's comet. the swt, however, will not go down with a fight. love, love, love this one! it has painted lady katara, blue spirit zuko, a sweet romance, political intrigue, and betrayal!!! it's a fun time. also i love hama's inclusion in this :)

The Blackfish and the Dragon by ama

during the day of black sun, iroh takes matters into his own hands and becomes fire lord. shortly after, a marriage is arranged between zuko and katara in order to secure the peace. it's a beautiful arranged marriage au where everyone is so perfectly in character. i really think this fic is one of the best zutara fics out there with a natural and rewarding slow burn romance. and azula is there and she's perfect.

Smoke & Mirrors by sansonnets

blutara bible!!!!!!! that's all i got... blutara go CRAZYYY

so i can die where i met you by irridescence

canon compliant. zuko and katara, eighty years later. the fic is centered around major character death(s), so don't read if you can't handle it but i was sobbing like a fucking baby by the end of it. such a beautiful gorgeous fic that will haunt me forever.

if you don't mind incomplete or ongoing fics:

But Who's Counting? by halfhoursonearth

katara thinks zuko's going to need at least 100 healing sessions after the agni kai. lovely prose and characterization and it's so tender and sweet. just read it!!!

so let us melt, and make no noise by LittleLostStar

zuko is sent on a mission to bring back the heart of the last waterbender so he can restore his honor and return home. but when he nearly dies while in the south pole, a healer named katara saves him and nurses him back to health. (the author describes this as a kinda-sorta frozen AU, and i think it's a pretty good description haha). it's an incredible AU with so much mystery and intrigue and tension!

forgetting is a kind of mercy by nerdylizj

"Five years after Katara and Zuko go missing in Ba Sing Se, Kya and Lee are found living peacefully in the Earth Kingdom countryside." finally, i gotta plug liz's silly n goofy dai li brainwashing fic. it's so good. so painfully angsty. it's about the pain of remembering and about making hard choices and identity and parenthood!!!

#fic recs #zutara #ask #zutara fic rec

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mochinomnoms · 1 month ago

Text

Shrimpy Chronicles: The Drop-Off

Background Octopolycule x Reader (Main: Dad!Jade and OC!Daughter)

Synopsis

“Open water! I wanna see the water open at the drop-off!” Oh yes, she knows all about how Dada raved about the drop-off. Pearl knew it all too well, more than she wanted, actually. Dada, with his droopy eyes and raspy giggle, talked about how the open ocean is where all the big scaries come from. Where leviathans sleep, and the kraken lays in wait for the next unsuspecting meal. And that’s if the human fish-ear-men don’t get you first! “They throw in iron hooks, puttin’ tasty morels from the surface to bribe ya. And then, when you bite, take even a nibble, the hook digs into your cheek! And out through your skin! They drag ya up ‘n out of the water, and then they skin and scalp ya to eat!” No, she didn’t have nightmares for weeks after! Pearl was just having a hard time sleeping!

Collection Masterlist: Shrimpy Chronicles

[wc} - 2,020

[cw/tags] - Reader is mentioned as 'Ama' but has they/them pronouns, in daughter's p.o.v., heavily implied poly!octotrio x reader, main focus is Jade with daughter.

[notes] - I wanted to write a cute domestic scenario with the other twin since I did Coral in the last story lol. Thinking aboujt Jade's dream in Book 7, even though it's not accurate I think it does show that he does like having his friend and brother around. I think he'd want his kids to feel the same about their own siblings and friends.

also prime sibling behavior at the end uwu

If Pearl had to decide on going to school or hiding in the coral in her bedroom, she’d rather hide.

No, she’s not a baby! She’s not scared of her first day of school! She just doesn’t want to go, she thinks it’s booooooring!

That’s what she’s telling Coral anyways, who rolled her eyes when Pearl asked if she wanted to skip the day before.

“I don’t wanna! Dada said they take you to the drop off and look at how deep the-the—um…”

Coral had scrunched her nose and lips, frustration clear on her little face.

“I forgot what it was called.”

“I think Dada said it was open?”

“Open water! I wanna see the water open at the drop-off!”

Oh yes, she knows all about how Dada raved about the drop-off. Pearl knew it all too well, more than she wanted, actually.

Dada, with his droopy eyes and raspy giggle, talked about how the open ocean is where all the big scaries come from. Where leviathans sleep, and the kraken lays in wait for the next unsuspecting meal.

And that’s if the human fish-ear-men don’t get you first!

“They throw in iron hooks, puttin’ tasty morels from the surface to bribe ya. And then, when you bite, take even a nibble, the hook digs into your cheek! And out through your skin! They drag ya up ‘n out of the water, and then they skin and scalp ya to eat!”

No, she didn’t have nightmares for weeks after! Pearl was just having a hard time sleeping!

Either way, Pearl just didn’t feel like leaving the comfort of her home. Her Baba was gone for the morning already to check on his restaurant on the surface, while her Ama and Nana Narissa left a bit ago to talk with people in the town.

Ama and Nana had given her and her sister lots of kisses and made them breakfast to wish them good luck. Ama looked ready to cry as Nana put a barrette made of sturgeon scales into Coral’s hair, clipping her two dark strands of hair back and out of her face.

Ama was fully bawling as Nana did the same thing for Pearl, though her hair was long and thin enough to be fully clipped into a low ponytail.

“They match like their fathers! Waaaah! They’re so cute!”

Ama had been babbling, squeezing Coral and Pearl to her chest like a kid with a toy. Dada always squeezed tightly, but Ama could give him a run for his money right then.

Nana had to drag Ama away and called for her Dada and Papa to finish getting her and Coral ready. Dada was giggling at Ama as they swam out the front door, while Papa was looking at her and Coral.

“My, my. Look, Floyd, the little ones are matching us.” Papa reached down to tap at the barrettes in her and her twin’s hair. “How did Mother get these scales, I wonder?”

“Mama’s real cutthroat, probably told some of them that she’d serve them up to humans if they didn’t give her some.” Dada had taken to picking up Coral by the tail and swinging her upside down in his arms.

“What? No, Nana is nice!” Coral was giggling, twisting and turning to get out of Dada’s grasp.

“Nice to you, Nana loves her baby grand shrimp!” Pearl watched as Coral managed to wiggle mostly out of Dada’s grasp, reaching up to pull at his dark gray strand of hair

As her sister pulled harder at his hair, and Papa swam over to pull Coral away from his face, Pearl took the opportunity to quietly slip out and back into her bedroom. She could still make out the sounds of laughter and a screech from Dada as she heard a chomping sound.

Pearl giggled to herself, swimming into her bedroom to find a hiding spot. Somewhere new, though, where Dada or Papa couldn’t find her.

Hmm, in the bookshelf? No, that wouldn’t work. Under the pillows? No, they’d see her underneath it. Oh, wait! Baba left his old octopot in their room! Said something about using it for a hatchling, but she didn’t know what that was!

She’s not a hatchling, so maybe they’d never suspect she’d be there. Perfect!

Pearl hummed to herself, going into the toy corner, where she saw the black, metal cauldron among the many toys she and her sister had been gifted with over the years.

She didn’t exactly match the color of the pot, but Pearl supposes she can cover the entrance with a stuffed toy.

“Hmm, oh! This one!” Pearl grabbed a blue and yellow reef fish, just big enough to cover the entrance, and curled into the pot as tightly as she could.

Pearl closed her eyes and relaxed, being soothed by the cool iron of the pot and the darkness surrounding her. Even the stripes on her tail were starting to glow in the rhythm of her heartbeat.

Biting at the tips of her claws, she waited for the sounds of her fathers and sister to finally disappear. Hopefully they wouldn’t notice she snuck off and—

“Oya? Now what little creature is hiding here?”

The sudden light in her eyes made Pearl hiss and curl further into herself, burying her face into her tail and arms. She felt Papa’s hands carefully reach in and pull her out, though she growled and swiped at them. Even when she bit into one of his fingers, Papa still carefully cradled her and brought her back into the open.

He looked amused as she gnawed on his finger, twisting her little tail around his arm as she let out another growl, trying to imitate a roll she’d seen him do to a barracuda once. A death roll, she thinks it was called?

“I see, it’s my little elver! Now, what is my elver doing hiding from her Papa, hmm?” Papa cooed at her, rubbing his thumb against her cheek affectionately.

Pearl let out a pleased purr, finally letting go of his fingers and nuzzling into his touch. She just about melted into his arms as he brought her to his chest, humming as she curled in like she used to when she first hatched.

“Now, Pearl, what’s going on?” Papa sunk to the floor, curling his tail around him as he spoke. “Aren’t you excited about your first day? Your sister certainly is.”

“Umm, yeah! I just—I just feel—um—sick!” Pearl let out a ‘cough’, sticking her tongue out for dramatic effect.

“Ehgeh…I’m too sick to go to school.”

Papa’s chest shook, sounding like he did when he was trying not to laugh at Baba Zuzu when she tried to eat one of his arms.

“Oh, is that—pfft—so?”

“Yeah! Too sick. Too tiiiired! I stay home!”

Pearl went limp in Papa’s arms, feeling rather satisfied in herself. She managed to trick him! No school for her means no drop-off either! Now she could stay home all day and—

“Oh noooo, you can’t stay home, Pearl, we need to take you to the doctor!”

Huh?

“Oh, um, no thank you—”

“Yes, yes. You must go to the doctor, that cough sounds awfully terrible. You’re going to need, hmm, throat surgery.”

Pearl started squirming out of Papa’s grasp, finding it rather hard to do when he decided to squeeze her against his chest.

“No Papa Jade, I don’t wanna go to the doctor—”

“Hmm, then you’ll need medicine, the one that tastes like sour algae.”

Pearl panicked, pushing against his face, which was slowly morphing into a grin.

“Actually Papa, I think I’m okay, I’m not sick—”

Papa’s second jaws clacked as he softly pressed his teeth on her, brushing against her cheek, then neck, then tummy, tickling her.

“Aha! You lied to Papa, now he’s going to eat you!”

“EEEEE!” Pearl shrieked, thrashing in his hold as she cackled. “NOOO—snrk—STOOOP! PAPAAAA! AAAAAAH—snort—THAT TICKLES!!”

Papa let out a gentle laugh as he finally let Pearl breathe, using his free arm to lean against the ground. She was small enough though for her to still be cradled in his other arm.

“Now, Pearl, do you want to tell me the actual reason you don’t want to go to school? It’s your first day after all.”

Tucking herself into his arms and shutting her eyes closed, Pearl mumbled into her Papa’s chest.

“...I’m scared of the monsters…”

She felt herself moving again, peeking from her eyelashes to look at Papa’s frowning face.

“Monsters my sweet?”

Peal nodded, tapping her claws together nervously.

“Yeah, and the fish-ear-mans. The ones that Dada Floyd said would-would—um—scape you to eat?”

“Scalp, my sweet.” Papa looked mad, but still gave her a soft smile. “He means scalp.”

Sighing and swimming up and towards the door, Papa held Pearl’s hand to help her follow.

“And he’s being a bit dramatic, they don’t eat little mermaids like you. Even if they wanted to, I wouldn’t let them.”

The living room was empty, Dada and Coral probably left already to the pickup spot for school. It wasn’t very far from their grotto, and it looked like a lot of other families were on the way as well.

“...But, Papa? What about the monsters?”

Papa looked down at her, his eyes softening as he rubbed a thumb over her hand.

“Well, the sea has many monsters, but they all live far, far away from the reef. Much farther in the deep sea, that’s why you go to school, to learn how to protect yourself from the monsters.”

Pearl pouted, she didn’t know what learning her numbers had to do with monsters.

“But, if I stay home…the monsters will never find me! Problem solved!”

She smiled to herself, shimmying her shoulders like she was dancing.

“They can’t find me at home! You can protect me!”

Papa let out a chuckle, tugging her along as they saw Dada and Coral waiting at the pickup for the teacher. She thinks his name was Mr. Raymond.

“Well, that is certainly true, but—” Tugging her up into his arms again, Papa pressed his forehead against hers and murmured. “—who will protect Coral? She’ll be all alone without you.”

Pearl frowned at that, looking at her sister, who was currently clenching tight onto Dada’s arm and digging her teeth into his shoulder.

“...I think Dada Floyd needs more protecting than Coral.”

A laugh left Papa’s mouth as he watched the small shrimpmer somehow launch herself at Dada’s face, making him fall backwards into the ground.

“Perhaps you’re right, but she’d still like the company. I know I did with your other parents.”

She smiled at that, Coral did always like bringing her around when they got into trouble. Baba and Ama told her that Dada and Papa got into it a lot too. They seemed to grow up fine.

“...Okay Papa, I trust you!”

Pearl wriggled out of his grasp, darting over to Coral and practically tackled her off of Dada and into the soft sand. Both of them giggled as they played a game of tag, waiting for their teacher to pick them up.

As the two were preoccupied, Jade swam up to Floyd, who was up and stretching his arms over his head.

“Heya Jade, was wondering how long it’d take ya to find Pearl—yow!”

Floyd hissed as Jade pulled on his earfin, on the verge of digging his claws into the thin skin. A small, polite smile on his face, Jade leaned in to quietly hiss.

“When our mates get back home from their work and chores, we are going to have a good and clear conversation about how to talk to our children, if just to keep myself from mangling you to shreds.”

Finally let go of, Floyd held a hand to his now tender fin, glaring at his brother and growling.

“Tch, what’s stoppin’ ya now?”

Jade pouted and wiped an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye, even sniffling for dramatic effect.

“Our mates—unfortunately—adore you too much, I fear Azul and (Name) would be devastated…”

“Fuckin’ asshole.”

“Yes you are, but what am I?”

comments and reblogs appreciated 🩷

#mochi fic #twst #twisted wonderland #jade leech #floyd leech #azul ashengrotto #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #floyd leech x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #jade/azul #floyd/azul #octotrio #octopolycule #shrimpy chronicles #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc

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gadriezmannsgirl · 4 months ago

Note

Ok in honor of the new boyfriend selfie ruben posted, can u pls write something about him as a boyfriend. Like him being really needy to his gf, sending her silly pics like that when they’re away, and being very clingy and constantly needing affection from the gf when they are finally at home together

Here it is! Hope you like it, please let me know!😌

Needy, Cute and Manly Boyfriend -R.D3

Summary: He loves having your attention

You couldn't help but smile at your phone. Your 3 years boyfriend, Rúben sent you a pic of himself and your dog, Simba. You instantly replied with a quick "my baby's😍❤️. Love you both so much"

Soon Rúben sent another selfie, this one only of himself, at the bottom there was a text "What time you'll be home? I miss you"

You were going to reply but were interrupted by a call from you boyfriend, you quickly answered it.

"Meu amor" He said "I miss you"

"I miss you too, babe; but I still have another class to go, I'll be out in about an hour and a half, after that I'm all yours"

"You already are mine"

"Well yes but you know what I mean" Rúben chuckles

"Let me know, I'll pick go and pick you up"

"Thanks, Rú. But there's no need, Lisa can give me a ride home, you're pretty tired baby, have some rest"

"None of that. You said an hour and a half, right? I'll be there"

"You're so stubborn"

"Teimoso e tudo mas é assim que me amas" (Stubborn and everything but that's how you love me)

You smile nodding "That I do" You blow him a kiss "I need to go to class right now but I'll text you as soon as I'm done, handsome"

"You do that, bonita" (beautiful) He blows a kiss into the phone "Eu amo-te, amor"

"Love you too, baby. See ya later" and with that you hung up the call and entered your class.

After what felt like an eternity you went out discussing some points with your best friend.

"But it doesn't matter if we are different mentions?"

"I don't think so to be honest"

"And what about that neurology oratory? You're planning on going?" You nod

"Dr. Jones will do it and I think it will be good, you know? He's one of the best out here and it'll fantastic if I can do my internships in his hospital"

"You're good, you will do!" She nudges your shoulder

"We don't know about that, I need to be the first one in class"

"As if you aren't?" You gave her a look before she smirked "Prince charming's here for you" You turned around to see a very well known Ferrari and your boyfriend leaning up against the car with a cap on his head. "See ya, girl!" Lisa hugged you over your shoulders, kissed you cheek and let you go

"See ya, Li" You smiled at her before walking up to your boyfriend. "Hello"

"Hello, meu Amor" You quickly gave him a kiss on his lips, his hands went over to your waist pulling you closer "Let's go home?" You nod with a smile on.

He kisses your cheek before opening the door for you and helping you get in.

You push your backpack to the backseat and wait for Rúben to start the car.

"How was your day, querida?" (Darling) He asks, his hand going straight to your thigh

"It was good! We did a pop quiz, teacher told us to go out whenever we finished and at the end he gave us the results right there and then"

"How did it go?"

"Amazing!" You smile widely "I absolutely rubbed my full grade into his face"

"Is that professor the one you told me about?" You hum "What was his nickname? Doc. Mean?" You hum

"He's just awful" He laughs "And he looks exactly like Emmet Brown"

"The doc from Back to the Future?" You nod and Rúben squeezes your thigh laughing "He does look like him"

"Awful" You laugh with him as you watch how he changes the route to your house "You need to go somewhere?"

"We are going somewhere" He put emphasis to the we

"Where are we going then?"

"To get some burgers"

"You don't eat them"

"But you do" He shrugs "I can have a little cheat day"

"You having a cheat day?" Rúben looks at you during a red light "What did you do to my boyfriend?"

"No. What did you do to me? I never break a diet until you came around"

"So I'm at fault?"

"More or less, you love burgers and I love you. Having a burger once in a while won't kill me"

"It better not. I'll be a widow even before getting married"

"That's definitely something we don't want"

"Definitely not" You grip his hand with one of yours and hug his arm with the other "Can you also get me a?" -

"Double meat, double cheese burger with extra fries and a chocolate chip cookie? I know"

"I know you know... But I wanted-"

"An iced caramel mocha?" You look at him narrowing your eyes

"You know me"

"I have to, tu és a minha menina" (you're my girl) you smiled feeling him leaning over the console to kiss you quickly. He rolled down the window and greeted the worker before ordering.

A few minutes later, both of you were on your way back to your house, singing and humming along the songs on your shared playlist.

"Gonna take a quick shower, I'll be back in ten" You said as soon as you got inside, however Simba made it difficult for you, he wanted his attention. "You're my babyboy but you gotta let me go and take a shower, baby"

"Simba, I'm the only one who can jump on her!" You heard Rúben's voice inside the kitchen and then you heard the blender go on

"Dad's jealous. You're my baby" You kissed his fourry face.

"Weren't you going to shower?"

"I'm giving my baby love"

"You don't need to give Simba that much of love, you can give it to me"

"Are you jealous of a dog?"

"Pufff!" He gave you a look "Obviously yes. I'm supposed to be the only one you give your love and attention to"

"You are. But also is Simba" You kissed the dog's head once again

"Nonono!" His cries made you laugh "Simba, get off!"

"He likes the attention way too much"

"Even I do if it's yours!" You break in laughter

"You know I'll give you all my attention after I shower and eat?"

"What are you waiting for to do that?" He asks making you laugh more

"You are so jealous of your dog"

"I am!"

"Please don't take it in the wrong way but you're so needy, I love it"

"I'm not needy"

"És tão giro" (You're so cute) You said in between giggles

"Sou um homem viril, não sou giro" (I'm a manly man, I'm not cute)

"You are both, actually"

"Go take a shower, I'll set something up so we can watch while we eat and you love on me"

"Sounds like a deal" Rúben smiled before turning around to the kitchen "Hey" You call him as he turns

"What?"

You grab his hand and pull him down so you could kiss his lips softly "My needy, cute and manly boyfriend"

°°° °°° °°° °°°

taglist: @gaviymarcsbride @stuckinaf4nfiction @elijahslover @azzpenswrld @http-isabela

#gadriezmannsgirl replies #gadriezmannsgirl writes!#ruben dias #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias fic #ruben dias one shot #portugal nt #manchester city #man city #football players #football players one shot #football fanfic #football players x reader #football players imagines #ruben dias x you

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

Text

TOWER OF BABEL (VII)

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

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 7.4k

WARNINGS: Angst, intense stalking & stalking behavior, talks of death/injury, toxic modeling standards/expectations, dark implications, symptoms & descriptions of dissociation, scar descriptions, etc. (Series 18+)

A/N: This is where some of the more serious/dark aspects come into the story involving Seraph's job and the pressures that are put on her. It's only implied in this chapter, but in the next, it'll be talked about more. Just to let you all know.

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

The day after your meeting, your gifted clothes came to the lobby of the penthouse.

You’d gone down with Nikto and picked up what you could, bags and bags of designer goods including purses, makeup, and jewelry. It was excessive—like Fedorov was trying to buy your silence; buy your affection so you’d cozy up into bed with him.

This job tried you every day, but that was a line you would never cross. Never.

Still, the items needed to be taken and packed for the trip regardless. Eyes would be on you from the moment this adventure from hell started until it ended in what hopefully was a peaceful fashion.

But you severely doubted it would be anything close to peaceful.

You take another gray dress and slip it into the garment cover, legs folded on the floor of your living room as you hum under your breath. Music wafts out from your record player, and you’re desperately trying to focus on the task at hand. Nikto reads from the couch.

“Have they called you yet?” You ask, not looking up as you slide the cover’s zipper, missing it once as your hand shakes unexpectedly.

The Russian responds with a slow and even, “Нет. No calls.”

You sigh, licking your lips.

No one had been telling you what was in that last gift at AMA—not even your mother. Aly had said it was probably nothing when she’d been briefly over to assist with the clothes, on a tight break in her schedule, but you weren’t too sure of that.

Pale eyes blink slowly, and a page turns. “No use thinking. Pack.”

“You make it sound like it’s that easy,” you huff, body leaning back and spine resting against your various rugs. The penthouse was warmer today, and you wear comfortable loungewear; shorts, and a dark baggy t-shirt. Your head shifts, arms out beside you. “How are you so calm about everything? My heart feels like it’s constantly going to break out of my chest.”

Your phone goes off on the coffee table, a short buzz that has to be either your mom or Alyona. Rubbing a palm into your right eye, you hear the bear grunt and close whatever he was reading, finding it pointless to try and focus if you continue to speak to him.

He stares for a moment, hidden face a mystery you long to solve. With a tap of his finger on his thigh, he explains.

“Training,” you blink, intrigued. Nikto seems to notice, tilting his head and looking down at you. “You are scared, Woman, yes?”

“Of course.” You had no trouble admitting it. “Anyone would be.”

“In military,” the air of the penthouse moves with the weight of his broken words, the rough bleed of vocals. You really did like his accent—it just added so much to his already intimidating form. Just a stack of bricks being constantly grated against one another. “We were taught how to become used to it—the adrenaline. Fear. In the end, it held little over many; failure was the only fear that never left.”

Your brows furrow, lips frowning. “You fear failure, Nikto?”

You expected a blunt refusal, quick words. But the man had been softening to you over the time you’d known him—if that was your own doing, or something more, you can’t quite tell anymore. Any talk on soulmates has feld you like a rabbit in a dark wood to shy away from the looming presence of something bigger; parties and scorned maniacs.

You still wonder if ignoring the gifts was the right thing to do. Would that make it worse? You think you’d read about that somewhere.

A trigger. But the stalker had already pushed one of those, hadn't he? What could he do that was worse than killing three men? Mutilating animals?

Nikto surprises you.

The man blinks, not looking away from your pleasing eyes—even now, your pupils were small with anxiety; he’d noticed how you adamantly avoided social media and the news, plastered with your pictures and the case. The window had never been opened fully since he’d been here, only a creak of natural light slipping from the crack of the half-risen blinds.

For a gruff beast of action, his eyes missed nothing.

“Yes,” he grumbles, blinking away for a moment before his attention returns. “But it is…lesser than what you feel. Незначительный. Minor.”

A small smile flickers your lips, skull to the ground even as it aches slightly.

“I like it when you speak to me—it helps,” you mumble honestly. It wasn’t flirting, not really.

The Russian looks slightly confused at your sentence, but that doesn’t stop his shoulders from minutely tightening. You chuckle, shifting your head to the ceiling where your little bits of painted glass hang.

“Nikto,” you point upwards. “That one—the bird. What color is it?”

This was a game you’d taken a fast liking to. You’d point and ask the color; Nikto would answer.

“Red,” is his monotone reply after a glance. Eyes from behind his mask shrouded in dark paint. You doubted the face grease could come off anymore, the chemicals already bone deep.

“I thought it was orange,” you sigh. “I still can’t tell the difference.”

“Obviously,” is the dryly amused response, with you glaring without venom and putting your hands to the ground to help push you back up.

“Hey,” you try to hide your teasing smirk. “I’m getting better at it—”

Your voice is strangled off as a sharp inhale, eyes blinking rapidly, and your vision blurs in a moment of ricocheting pain flaring in the base of your skull. Snapping one hand to the back of your head, you strangle down a small scream, reducing it to a whimper of utter agony.

Neck bending forward, your mouth fills with saliva as your spine pulls in, yet you can’t even focus on that. You feel like if you even have a single thought, your brain will explode out of the back of your head.

Nikto startles, eyes widening, but he doesn’t waste time on shock. Feet already rush over at the slighted change in the air, a hand grasping the base of your neck tightly, attention snapping into place. Your breath puffs as your frantically moving face tenses and eyelids twitch. Your nerves were on fire.

The Russian watches, confusion and a certain unease striking him through his pounding heart. What had happened? One second you were speaking and the next your body was so steel-like it shook harder than he’d ever seen it.

“Seraph,” he barks, face close to your head, looking at the spot you grasp at with your visible knuckles, the sound of your gasping pants leaving his throat echoing with reverberations of unease.

Nikto pulls at the skin of your wrist, peeling your hand back before you draw blood, trying to assess what to do. He only sees it then.

It’s a rabid-looking thing, the scar. With your hair as such, your fingers stuck in the knots, they’re pulled back just perfectly to see it. Pale blue eyes stare unabashedly, struck dumb for a moment in their concerned sheen.

It spans from the base of your skull upward, a jagged bulge of healed tissue and fissures—the shade of skin is different there, hyperpigmentation just as Nikto had. Halfway up the back, the rough line breaks into two places, creating a ‘Y’ with the one nearest to the right stopping sooner than the other.

But it was deep. Deadly-like. An indent lives at the middle point.

For someone so in tune with the ways of the body, Nikto was horrified and fascinated at the very implication; how had you…survived this? Your entire skull might have been broken open from the force of whatever had happened, judging by the strength needed to achieve such brutality. Was this the injury that you’d been speaking about?

An overwhelming emotion takes him by the lungs.

Your body had scars just like his did.

Form curling even farther forward, your legs pull into you, and Nikto finds that at the moment, none of that even matters.

“Seraph,” he orders again, equally as urgent but noticed less sharp. His thumb curls your wrist to trap itself at your pounding pulse; running as if being chased by whatever nightmares he hears you whine from in your sleep.

You swallow down your bile with a clicking of your throat and a small cough, eyes stinging.

“Burns,” your lips whisper, lids closing firmly. “God, my head burns.”

It’s a brief thought—a small moment of slip-second thinking that had saved his life many times.

A chilled palm spreads itself over the back of your head, directly over the broken fracture of flesh, without an utterance of a word. The effects aren’t immediate; you don’t just calm down and stop panicking. But it helps. Like a light in the dark, it helps.

After a minute, the chill seeps into your bones. It goes deeper and deeper, the large grip of Nikto’s fingers stuck into your hair perhaps a little harder than they needed to be, but you weren’t about to complain at the pressure. After two minutes, your panting slows to a small ragged wheeze—feeling like a sick duck as your beady eyes finally open. You see the unblinking pale orbs directly to your right almost immediately after the abyssal dots go back to wherever it was they came from.

He doesn’t speak; you didn’t expect him to. Nikto was arrogant, prideful, but he never spoke unless he knew he had something he needed to say. A blunt hound who never hesitated to bark, but only when he could see something was up in the tree.

When you’ve seemed to calm down, the hand on your wrist leaves with a brush of rough gloves to the skin, making you shiver. You notice the hastily tossed material of the matching product, belonging to the other limb, near your knee.

Cold fingers. Cold hands. A corpse would be jealous, but you’d never felt so thankful.

Nikto studies your face rapidly, and your raspy voice levels out a meek, “Sorry.”

Barely visible brows furrow tightly, almost disgusted. You perhaps misinterpreted that expression the wrong way, because just as you’re about to rush into a wild explanation as to why, how, and every excuse you can give, you’re once more taken off guard today.

Bulky arms circle your waist and under your vibrating knees.

With a sluggish reaction, you blink rapidly as you’re settled against the hard Kevlar of his chest—kept firm in his grip. Your legs hang, hand stabilizing yourself on Nikto’s pec.

“What did I say?” He asks heavily, looking down at you as your shock bleeds away to focus on how to calm your heart. “Seraph?” Nikto prompts, his fingers digging into your clothes.

You try to think, stuttering, “You don’t like it when I apologize.”

“So do not,” the Russian grunts, clenching his jaw out of sight. His words are low, and he rolls his shoulders. “That is the end of it.”

He sets you down on the couch, sinking into the multiple plush pillows. You feel weak—limp. Not looking into the man’s eyes, you curl your hands around your waist, leaning back and being careful to not hit your head on the back.

Nikto watches with hidden concern.

“Explain,” he utters, not moving an inch from in front of you. It’s a minute or so before you can find the words. All the Russian does in that time is shift his arms over his chest—fix the stance of his feet. You can feel his eyes like a knife, but you can’t feel how his brain is on high alert; vigilant to any pain that may be hidden from him.

“Happens sometimes,” you whisper, one vibrating hand coming up to lightly run over the back of your skull. You trace the scar softly, feeling the pulse underneath. “It’s just… sensitive.”

Nikto’s eyes narrow.

After a pause, where it’s obvious you feel some sort of embarrassment judging by your avoiding gaze, the great beast sighs long. A slow blink makes his dark lashes up and down.

He hated how he despised that look on your face.

Moving, Nikto sits beside you, leaning back with a grunt and extending an arm behind you on the hardwood of the couch’s frame.

“Tell me. I want to know.” You side-eye him, knees pulled up to your chest. It has a distance to it, your focus. Everything feels like it’s underwater.

“It’s not a good story,” you force a broken huff, smiling wobbly. Numb eyes don’t waver over the lines of your face.

“No,” Nikto bluntly says. “I did not expect it to be. Nonetheless…” he trails. “I am asking if you are willing to answer.”

It wasn’t like you were against saying what had transpired, but there was a lot of history there—so much. The event had happened when you were young, so many years had passed to a point where the mental pain of it had dimmed to all except the consequences. The aftermath.

This was a give and a take; you consider yourself a fair person.

“How did you lose part of your finger?” You turn it around, licking your lips and staring at his neck. The man’s body stills at the question.

Nikto slowly loosens a grumbled scoff. But it isn’t a feral thing. Perhaps he was even impressed that you had the forethought to gain something of his story when you’d already told so much of yours.

He reminds himself once more, not dumb.

“Very well,” Nikto’s head tilts like a wolf, his knee hitting the place where your feet hang over the edge of the cushion. He looks you up and down as his finger taps the wood behind your head. “Second year with PMC. Operation in far-off country—we do not care to remember which anymore.” You listen, heart calming with every scrape of vocal cords. Nikto explains slowly, thinking over every word carefully as his vision trails to rest at your nose. “Hostile hiding under floorboards.” The Russian rolls his shoulders. “I was reaching down to grab at the hatch; it confused me because it was partially open.”

Your body lightly turns his way, the side of your skull meeting the hard build off the inside of his forearm. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, getting everything under control again one second at a time. As if a book, you turn the pages of Nikto, painting a picture of his tale, oblivious to the way his eyes are stuck on your face. His arm stays completely still for you.

He longs to look at that scar again, and he can’t understand why.

“...Large knife came up through the wood. Cut it off and damaged the others near it. It is numb most days. Barely can tell I still have finger. Very inopportune, but all was not lost.”

“What wasn’t lost?” You hum, sighing, and open your eyes again. The Russian’s gaze darts away.

“I killed him,” he says numb-like, a vicious smirk in his voice. “In the end, it was only us who could tell the story, yes?”

“Does it hurt?” You change the subject back to his scars, liking how his forearm acted as your pillow. You could feel his tendons as they pulled.

“Sometimes,” Nikto shrugs at your quiet question, thighs over the couch cushions. “Like all the others. Natural.”

He doesn’t need to ask if yours do.

You dwell on what he insinuates about his body—the scars you already thought he’d have; why he wears that mask.

“I fell,” you share, not letting a long silence linger. Nikto’s feet shuffle on the floor, but otherwise, like a waiting cat, he was completely beholden to your soft voice. “Far. Cracked my head open on a rock.”

There’s so much more to it—but this is the version you always tell everyone. It’s less…complicated. Gets you less looks of pity, even if you’re not sure Nikto is the type to do that.

The large man hums, nodding. He wants to know more; he’d have to look into it further on his own. “You are lucky to be alive after an injury like that.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, lips twisting. “Lucky.”

Your skull pulses.

“But, anyways,” you wave a hand, locking gazes. “Thank you.”

Nikto’s knees crack as he stands, moving away; his heat leaves. Hands situating themselves at the collar of his vest, the Russian’s throat rolls with a noise of acceptance.

“It is my job. Do you require anything?”

“I think I’m okay,” you admit, feet delicately moving to the rug on the floor. It’s back to packing, pushing this to the back of your mind just as you do the remembrance of his fingers tight in your hair; tight at your wrist. Nikto’s hard voice in your ear, saying your angelic title.

Your throat clears itself, blinking, as you stand.

The man takes it as lightheadedness, one foot moving closer. Your hand raises, and he stops. A small chuckle moves out of your mouth, side-eyeing him with a crinkle to your lids.

“I’m okay, Nikto. Trust me, please.”

He sighs, fingers twitching. But he doesn’t grumble any blunt vitriol, he just watches. Always watching.

Your spirits are lightened by his presence.

Brushing down your t-shirt, you close your eyes and shove away the memories, tiny tingles of pain still present as they go up and down your spine.

“Now, we have to get to work,” you brush past the episode, used to them. “It would be helpful if you lent a hand, Big Guy.”

Your joke leads to a huff, fingers taking back their book from the table—all in Russian script, so you didn’t know what it was—and a roll of eyes.

“That is not my problem. Your clothes, your parties.”

“The parties you’re going to have to go with me too,” you smirk, eyes glimmering as you grasp your phone, flipping it over to turn it on and look at the text you’d received. “I hope you like suits.”

Pale eyes widen before a growled Russian sentence wafts over the music from the recorder. You laugh, already knowing the contents of curses and refusals. He was so much like a child sometimes it takes you aback. A brute, utterly refusing what was in front of him and owning a short fuse.

“Oh, calm down,” you blink, signing into your phone. “I’m good at finding clothes as long as you tell me colors and shades. You’re in the best hands in the business, Nikto.”

“Do not say it like that,” he barks, eyes narrowed and his body moving forward to pass you, most likely to go back to your bookshelf and return the book, seeing as he’d get nowhere with it now. “I do not want your hands, Whelp.”

“You’re saying that now,” you tease, pointing with your free finger. “Everyone says that before they have a taste of—”

“Quiet.”

You laugh, spine lightly bending forward, and Nikto’s back turned to you to where you can’t see his face soften at the sound. His body unconsciously loosens, orbs gaining a distance that has nothing to do with his condition. Your existence is a curse to him, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

It’s only after you’re able to calm down, the Russian putting his book away with a large hand, when you finally look down at the text you’d gotten.

UNKNOWN NUMBER:

‘I sent you a gift and you didn’t even open it?’

Your face freezes mid-smile.

‘I’m giving you everything you wanted—you didn’t open the letter I gave you in the grocery store, either, did you? I waited for hours for you to show up! Hours for you! I’ve waited YEARS to be near you! I love you more than anything in my life and you’re ignoring me? How can you do that when I’ve risked so much? Please, Seraph, I love you but you’re breaking my heart—I’m trying so hard to be kind to you. Please, don’t make this harder than it needs to be. Это любовь с первого взгляда! Я не могу жить без тебя!

I’m trying to forgive you, my Сладкая, I promise. I’ll always forgive you, but let me show you how much you mean to me.’

Images pop through, scent quickly as your glee stiffly drops like glass to the floor. You’d never felt yourself go so still as when you’re halfway through the block of text and you see yourself at the grocery store, alone, and Nikto’s shadow disappearing around the aisle. More—so much more. You in AMA...in…in the photoshoot wearing nothing but the lingerie, skin on full display.

Your eyes flood with tears, jaw open.

He had been in that fucking room. He’d been there when your manager had brought in the dead birds—he, he had…

He’d been right there.

You can’t speak, you’re only looking down at the continuing barrage of photos.

Outside of the Consulate building, walking down the street, talking with Aly on a girls outing from months ago. Your phone vibrates with every one, quivering hands already moving but now more so. Like a rabbit being hunted down. It shows an escalation—the more you see the closer this freak was getting in each, slowly slinking with vile intentions until the last.

An image of the direct back of your head, a hand reaching, and almost touching, exactly where your scar lives.

You’re going to vomit.

The entire device is snatched by gloved fingers.

Nikto glares in confusion, ears twitching at every buzz of your phone. “What is wrong with—”

The man is suddenly more wound up than a dog under a noose.

Rushing past, you only reach the kitchen trash can two seconds before your bile rocketed from your mouth, heaving what little you’d managed to eat of Nikto’s cooking into the bottom with a tight sob.

Nikto’s hand holds the thing—reading, looking, with dead eyes. Dead eyes that gradually become enraged with a certain type of anger that breeds in silence. The skim, a ruthless finger tapping the screen and dragging the conversation back to the top before he stares. He stares and stares and stares at the pictures. At you.

The way you live your life, oblivious to the threat right behind you. Stalking closer.

Nikto can’t remember a time he’s felt so angry at an enemy before. Not just an enemy, no, an animal. This wasn’t like the rules of war, this was for pleasure; for a selfish need. He knew how to keep himself separate—had to for his sanity—but this was something no one could not get wrathful at. Even him.

He hears you wretch, vomiting into the trash just below the island where he’d made the both of you lunch, the choke of your sobbing breaths. The sounds make his hands tighten over the phone, to smash it to pieces like a toddler with a block castle.

And then the device buzzes one more time as Nikto silently finishes reading the first text you’d been sent.

‘Don’t worry about the bodyguard, Seraph, I can take care of him, too. We can finally be together, just like it’s supposed to be.’

Nikto is hitting the call button before his brain catches up to his finger.

Slotting it to his covered ear, he breathes like an afflicted hound, eye buggy and chest rattling with air. Panting echoed from behind his mask, the hot breath moving back to warm his slashed and burned flesh.

It picks up on the second ring, but nothing is said. No words from the other end.

In the corner of his eye, Nikto sees you hyperventilating. The former soldier speaks entirely in Russian, slipping back into his native tongue as easily as he slips into violence—it is nothing more than a slide of sandpaper.

“I am going to watch the life bleed from your eyes,” he grinds out. “And then I’m going to make your corpse wish it had been set on fire instead.”

Nikto hangs up, tossing the phone to the coffee table and making a mental note to get Yaromir and Galina to trace the number. Stomping over to you, your body was away from the trash now, hand to your mouth.

“I’m okay,” you say hurriedly, tears tracking your cheeks. “I’m okay.”

“You are not,” Nikto wishes he could go to the shooting range—wishes he could spar and slam someone down to a wrestling mat. He needs flesh under his fingertips.

The Russian’s chest is wide and rising with the pulse of untamed lungs. The bulge of his pecs stuttered over their course and the old scars he carries itch under the barrier of his gear.

Growling, the man clenches his eyes shut, shaking his head to the side firmly.

But there was something about the implication of you being threatened that made Nikto need to feel the weight of his service weapon in his grip. To feel the recoil of a bullet being sent into someone. A nameless figure; a silent phone call.

Nikto scoffs, rolling his neck and shoulders.

Thinking like this was making him reckless.

“I guess I should have told you about the letters, then,” you taste bile on your tongue, images swirling in your head—paranoia was firm. Suddenly, every memory was tainted. You gag on your saliva, coughing.

Nikto doesn’t respond to the self-deprecating comment.

Once more today, hands move to touch you, pulling at the space under your arms and lifting. Blinking, you’re moving around when your feet are flat on the ground—hands going to rest on the edge of the counter behind you.

Nikto’s hands stay stuck at the meat of your limbs, great head tilted. Eyes lock on the tear tracks spreading down your skin, and he pauses.

A thumb slowly pushes at them, spreading the liquid along your flesh as your blurry vision stays at his neck. With a shuddering inhale at the unneeded attention, your head lightly sags forward—connecting with Nikto’s chest.

He tenses, looking down at you from the corner of his eye.

After a minute, his nose releases an unheard sigh, and his arms lower to his sides.

Nikto lets you rest there as long as you need.

—

You’re in the bath tonight, and Nikto listens to the water sloshing as he pushes the envelopes around from inside the lockbox.

It was safe to say you hadn’t gone back to packing.

That woman, Alyona, was here—she’d made a big fuss about the texts before she’d taken you with her and led you into the bathroom to clean yourself up. You were both in there now—talking. Nikto wasn’t going to act like he wasn’t eavesdropping; he didn’t care if your friend or you knew it. It was mostly about the parties, the talk, and the Russian could understand that Alyona was trying to occupy your mind.

His mission was more important.

You’d passed him the box and watched as Nikto had retrieved the letter from your coat pocket. The former soldier had already called the investigators and promptly told them to arrest Sergi, or they would have him to deal with—there hadn’t been time to respond before he’d hung up and smashed his phone to the nightstand of your rented room. The resounding echo had made both parties in the bathroom go silent for a minute before hesitantly starting back up.

And now, there was the scratchy English script of a stalker in his hands. He felt disgusting even touching them; he was glad he’d put his gloves back on. A permanent sneer was stuck to his hidden face like a curse, eyes narrowed.

Standing, the man trades weight from his thighs as he reads the letter that had been stuck in your jacket.

‘My Сладкая,

This is the one-hundredth letter I’ve written to you, though you haven’t been sent all of them yet. I’m still waiting for you to notice me, and I’ve grown disquieted by your response to the way I disposed of your three guards. Was that not what you wanted every time you looked at me?’

Nikto’s hand comes up to rub at the fabric over his neck, digging until he feels the bulge of his scar against his fingertips.

‘I thought you would be thankful, but now you have that man following you everywhere. He took your doves from you—the doves that were supposed to make up for the misunderstanding about the dead men. You looked beautiful with the red fire moving over your face that day, you know? It caught every curve and the softness of your skin perfectly. Here—I even took a picture for you to enjoy as I thoroughly have. I hope it brings you the pleasure it brought me to run my lips over your holy image.”

Fingers crumble the side of the letter, creasing it. Not once do they delve into the envelope to look for that picture. If he had the choice, Nikto would rip this entire thing into little bits.

‘I think it’s time that we meet—alone, Сладкая. I’ll be waiting tonight at the café for you, so we can run away together. And start this life together. I think it’s time. Yes. I will ravage you with all of the beautiful things in life; jewelry, dresses, makeup, my body. It is mine, isn’t it? You? You’ve told me with your eyes, so why are you still ignoring me? You look at me every day. I look back—you love me! I know you do! Why are you still being such a—’

It falls off into nothing but rabid script; illegible even to Nikto’s best abilities. The letter is saturated with something—spots of the paper pulling in on itself with droplets off…

Nikto stills, disgust and insult moving in his gut. There wasn’t any DNA on the box, but they certainly had some here.

Dropping the letter into the lockbox on the nightstand, the man takes the top and rams it shut with a rattle of the nesting dolls on the upper shelf. Nikto removes his gloves and tosses them into the garbage bin.

Stalking to the bathroom door, he moves on instinct. Ever the animal.

Knuckles rasp to the wood. Conversations halt once more.

“Seraph,” he eases, accent tight. “You are well?”

A bead of silence, the moving of water.

“Yes, Nikto,” your voice is still shaky, but it comes out from under the door.

Nikto stares at his feet, blinking. With a grunt, his feet shift and he forces out, “Good. You will call if you need us.”

It wasn’t a question.

Moving back, he nods to himself firmly, shaking out his right hand—he can’t seem to stop being on edge. Every creak, every shadow of your decorations moving, made his eyes dart to them, honing in as if behind the scope of a rifle.

Nikto brought his hands to the side of his skull, pushing in. You were messing with his head, he tells himself again. The moments of dissociation were becoming more frequent as of late, and he could feel it in the back of his mind even now. A glaze over his brain that made everything feel like it was worlds away from him—it was sharp and sure of itself. Words jumbled, ‘I’s came out as ‘We’s, things were lapsed from his brain; important things. Moments of confusion—aggression. Leaving you behind in a grocery store at the flip of a coin. Snapping at you in real anger when you were just curious.

He can’t do that. He can’t lose his grip.

From inside the bathroom, your eyes stay locked on the door, your head resting on the wall behind you as your skin soaks in the claw-footed tub.

“I don’t know if this is good for me, Aly,” you confess lowly, eyes shifting back to the wall ahead of you, a little black and white ceramic fish on a shelf. Candles let off the scent of linen and pine.

Alyona sits on the stool a few feet away, watching your face worriedly.

“Солнышко,” she starts slowly, “we both know it isn’t. It’s going to pass—I can’t hope for more than that.”

It’s like a repeating record—It’ll be okay, just keep strong, push through.

It wasn’t Aly’s fault; she’s involved in this too.

“Is Nikifor worried about you?” The woman’s head perks, her lips twitching as the orbs inside of her head soften.

“Seraph, you don’t have to change the subject—”

“Truly,” you move a hand up from the water and rub at your face. “Really, Aly, I need a distraction. Please, just…talk. You know I love to hear about the two of you.”

She sighs, looking to the wall. After a moment, she chuckles, head tilting down. “Yes, he’s worried. He worries about you as well. You have a home with us, little Солнышко—I want you to know that, yes?” Alyona brings a hand to your cheek, pinching in good nature.

You shuffle away in mock annoyance, lips twitching.

“...I know, Aly.”

“Good,” she huffs. “I would not be a good friend if you didn’t. At least that brute is taking care of you, it seems.”

“He’s a good cook,” you ease out. “You should try it sometime.”

Gray eyes blink at you, shocked. “He got you to eat a meal?”

“You’re saying it like I never do,” you chuckle, eyebrows pulling in as the dimmed overhead light shines down on your avoidance of the problem at hand.

“No, it’s not that,” Aly’s eyes rove with unseen emotion, her concerned heart gaining a smidge of affection for the man outside of the door, whose shadowed feet can still be seen pacing. “I am…glad, Seraph. Food is always the way to someone’s senses, eh?”

Your lips twitch, but the weight on your chest remains. A tense pause grabs the both of you.

“I wish you were coming with,” you have to admit on a stiff tongue. “Ever since I first got here, you’ve been with me for all of it—the parties especially.” Your open mouth stutters. “Aly, I don’t think I can do it again by myself. All of those people; what some of them expect from me, it…it’s just…” Getting choked up, you move a hand to your mouth, covering it. From behind the flesh, you mutter, “I can’t do it again, it’s just the same as staying here, as a matter of fact, I think staying would be better.”

“You need to think rationally,” Aly shakes her head, getting closer to take your hand in both of hers. She squeezes, her top shiny in the light as it moves. “Nothing is worse than staying in this city. The man outside the door agrees. It is the safest option for you, even if,” Alyona closes her eyes, looking away as she opens them. She never finishes her sentence.

“I don’t want to,” you fight a whimper. “Aly, we tried so hard to get out of them sending us like meat.”

But there’s nothing that the woman can do to you when you say it like that, and even her expression gets far away. Alyona’s eyes blink fast, getting glossy before they avoid your eyes for the rest of the night.

“I’m sorry, My Seraph. I’m so, so, sorry.”

And that’s all that can be said.

When night comes, you don’t think you sleep at all, and by Nikto’s pacing of his room, the occasional pause to peek his head through your doorway, neither does he.

—

The time to leave came far quicker than you could anticipate as the days blended. Chelyabinsk was nearly a three-hour drive if you went the fastest route, and in the time before it, you and Nikto hadn’t spoken much about the letters. They’d been taken by the investigators the next day, along with your phone, for testing and tracking. While you’d been given a new device, it was a tiny thing that died more times than not; you had three contacts—Alyona, Nikto, and your mom.

You’d been assigned a driver by AMA for the trip, and thus, the all-black vehicle had arrived in the small hours of the morning as you had finished a hurried call to your matriarch.

“I’ll be back soon, Mom,” you’d explained. “Business. I’ll keep me busy.”

She had said it was a good idea like everyone else. Aly and you were the only ones to know the truth. Dread was a fishhook in your throat, but the fear of staying here was just as prominent. Those pictures haunted your mind.

“Nikto,” you ask, grabbing one of your suitcases on the street with a grunt. “Can you…?” The item is taken and easily lifted into the trunk. “Thank you,” your voice breathes out a sigh into the early morning air.

You hadn’t been to Chelyabinsk in a long time. Your brain knew that it would be most of the same—you needed to be careful of who you spoke to and how you did it. While regular crime was only moderate, corruption and bribery was your main problem when entering the place. You were on Allurement’s payroll, would your CEO’s influence be enough to stop anyone from trying anything with you?

If you stuck to where you were told to go, you should be fine.

Along with yourself and Nikto, photographers and media know-hows would be tagging along; makeup artists and stylists. A team of people who mostly refuse to look at you at all, only a few familiar faces among them.

But, thankfully, only you and your guard would be in this car.

“You can get in,” Nikto comments, blinking at you in the dark street, the lights of the car and the penthouse behind you all you have to differentiate between shades of black and gray. Your eyes had been constantly narrowed so you could try and see better. “I will load the rest.”

“If it’s all the same to you,” you smile sheepishly, “I’d like to stay out until we leave. I get fidgety when I’m in the car for too long.”

His shoulders shrug, taking another of your bags from the ground. “Very well. You will eat on the way there, then.”

Your eyes blink, attention pulled back from the shadow of a man walking across the street, raising hair on your arms.

“What was that?” You tilt your head.

Nikto huffs. “Eat. On the way there.” He raises a brow. “You need breakfast.”

“Oh,” you at your neck slightly. “Sure, yeah. But what about you? Do you want me to turn around or something so I won’t see your face?”

“No need. We ate as you dressed. Packed the remaining for you.” You’re brushed past, the purse around your shoulder connecting with Nikto’s thigh as his boots clop over the concrete.

Your lips twitch, expression still worried but the tease sneaking out instinctually. “I need to start calling you Mother Bear, Nikto.”

“It will be the last thing you do, Whelp,” he grumbles, eyes looking over his shoulder as he packs the last suitcase away. Amusement is like liquid stone inside of them.

So the trip ensued.

You entertained yourself by staring out of the window as the cityscape rolled back, already missing the sanctity of your penthouse as you fiddled with a small stuffed bird in your grip.

“I spy…” you mumble twenty minutes in, trying to be normal again. “Something tall and gray—”

“Tree,” Nikto grunts, trying to read one of the books he packed.

“No,” you say, defensively. “It was,” your mouth opens and closes, scouring the passing scene but finding nothing. “Fine, yes, it was a tree.”

“I spy something blue.”

“That’s not even funny.”

“I believe it was funny. Perhaps you do not have a good sense of humor, Woman.”

You glare, throwing your stuffed bird directly at his forehead and watching it bounce off. Nikto doesn’t even look away from the words on his page, flipping to the next with a deep chuckle in his neck.

Rolling your eyes, you groan and slouch into your seat.

You had to say, though, that as the city disappeared, so did your anxieties. It felt good to be near dense croppings of trees again—only an open and uncrowded highway and Nikto beside you. His pale eyes would watch you every so often, and you would do the same, studying each other as time passed and a gradual silence fell.

“Can I use you as a pillow?” You ask with only an hour left on the trip.

Nikto’s halfway through his book, and up until now, you’d kept to yourself, lost in thought.

“I am not comfortable,” he utters, leg shifting. He glances, but his numb eyes don’t do much until they move back to where they were prior. “And my Kevlar is hard. It will aggravate your head.”

You had to wonder how fast he caught onto that fact about you. A smile grows on your face, and you shift to grab your jacket, folding it and tossing the item onto Nikto’s thigh. His head darts down right as you move to rest there, body sideways and legs folded against the door.

“I like it when you worry—it’s cute,” you stifle a yawn, ignoring his digging eyes. “Wake me before we get there?”

Your ears don’t wait for an answer, your fatigue from missing an entire night of sleep catching up where Nikto’s never would. He watched you rest for the remainder of the ride, hand hovering over your shoulder until it slowly slipped down to rest on it with a grumble of exasperated Russian under his breath. But the man had noticed the bags under your eyes—unable to be hidden by makeup. He found it in himself to let you sleep, even if the infection of your warmth made his head go loose; how your slackened face looked peaceful.

The knowledge of what you’d just experienced was still with him, even as he linked his feelings together as pointless. This was a waiting game, and everyone else seemed to have time except for you.

He didn’t like it. There was a nagging in the back of his gut—instinctual understanding as a hired gun who’d gone through many deployments. This was bigger; something was going to happen soon. A tipping point.

Nikto had a feeling you felt it too, as your head nuzzled his thigh in your sleep, shoving yourself into your jacket as tiny grunts moved from your lips; eyebrows furrowing.

Bad dream, the Russian clocked immediately, his book long placed at his side and his one elbow against the window frame.

Pale blue eyes watched for a moment, looking at your deep red blouse and the long back skirt that lightly cascaded over the side of the seats. His hand at your shoulder—hard and immobile, twitches as it tries to keep you steady, feeling the muscle under your flesh writhe.

Only when you can’t seem to calm down does he do anything at all.

Nikto can easily stamp an expression of annoyance on his face, of bored numbness, but instead, a sliver of something that could be considered softness bleeds from behind his eyes; something that even if he were to look into a mirror, he couldn’t name himself.

A finger brushes up your neck, scarred and broken, most of a finger missing and the nearest ones fuzzy with nerve damage. It hovers, steady, before his hand moves to massage along the base of your scar. It’s an awkward angle, no mistake. After all, he was practically grabbing the side of your neck to reach, but it was all he could offer short of waking you.

When he couldn’t sleep, he’d do the same to himself; it helped, he thought, feeling skin on skin—a caress that eases aches. Call it pathetic, but the sensations he was feeling doing the same to you were nothing short of trance-inducing. To understand the pulse of your heart—your breath returns to a slow puff; brows settling back down at only his circling thumb.

A bit of that infectious pride trickles into his eyes; smug.

Nikto grunts, and leans back into his chair, continuing his work to settle you, and smirks softly under his mask.

Only roughly half an hour to go, and then it was back to guard duty. But perhaps he could close his eyes and rest as well.

You made for quite the distraction.

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