#chefs kiss 🤌 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

acourtofchaos · 1 year ago

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THE WAYS I WOULD LET THIS MAN RUIN ME, JESUS CHRIST. THIS IS SO FUCKING GOOD.

HIDE AND SEEK | mattheo riddle

summary; you and mattheo play a little game on hallowe’en.

word count; 9058

notes; don’t forget to check out the sister fic to this one by @azrielscrown, we did a lil joint thing, and you can see me making some cameos if you wanna hang out 😉 we’ve been keeping this lil secret for WEEKS and I’m so happy we can finally share it with you all <3

“Sit still, will you?” Your giggle echoed off of the stone walls in Mattheo’s bathroom. He scoffed, shuffling between his feet once again.

“S’not my fault it tickles! I don’t know how you girls do this every day, don’t the brushes make you want to sneeze?” His nose scrunched up as he spoke, but he let you continue to set the wet paint around his face with powder. His eyes focused on you, you could feel the stare as you observed the photograph he was holding up, a cut-out piece of a magazine. “You’re pretty when you’re focused.”

“And you’re distracting me,” You switched brushes, slapping at his hand as his fingers began to tease at your thigh. Returning it to its place on the counter beside your thigh, he shuffled between your legs impatiently once again, and pouted. “I can’t do your makeup like that. Smooth your face out.”

“Kiss.”

“Mattheo—”

“Kiss!” He repeated, and the smile you wore was against your control as you leaned in, pecking his lips softly, doing your best not to smudge the makeup you’d already applied around the centre of his face. It was too short and chaste for his liking, that much was clear when you pulled away as he licked at your lower lip, a whine coming from him as he chased you forward, only to be foiled by a chuckle, and a hand on his chest.

“I’m not redoing this for you if you make a mess of it! I don’t have time, I still have to get ready myself. Party starts in less than an hour, you know.”

“I know.” Mattheo grouched, smoothing his features out as you ran a thumb over his lips, refocusing on painting the skeletal features onto his face. “Y’know, you still haven’t told me what your costume is going to be.”

“You’d know if you’d gone for a couples costume with me. Stop moving your mouth.”

“That’s not fair!” He cringed and the brush slipped right into his mouth, leaving a streak of wet paint across his tongue, and you raised your brows. “I had to go with the boys, I couldn't be the only one who didn’t join in!”

“I’m messing with you, honey. Now, stop talking.” He merely grumbled behind closed lips, but his eyes were sparkling. He remained still and quiet, letting you paint the final pieces of his makeup around his mouth, stretching the creepy, toothy grin across his cheeks. Plucking the picture from his fingers and holding it up, you glanced a few times between it and your boyfriend, shrugging with a sigh. “That’s as good as it’s gonna’ get.”

Standing straight and moving to the mirror, his jaw dropped a little, hand rising but fingers never quite touching his face, tipping his head side to side to observe it. “Damn, baby, this is better than just ‘good’, it’s great!”

“Yeah? Good enough for your little boy’s night scare fest?”

“Don’t call it that, but yes.” Reaching for his hand, you tugged him back toward you, standing him before you and shaking the bottle in your hand. “What’s that?”

“Special setting spray. Close your eyes.” He did as told, eyes closing as you unpopped the lid. “I warn you, it may take some serious scrubbing after this to get the paint off, might leave some stains.”

“Wait, what—” You sprayed it across his face, and a choked sound between a gag and a cough left him as you covered his skin in a thick layer of the spray. Flapping your hand over his face to help his glistening skin dry, his frown deepened, hands reaching for you blindly, and gripping your hips. “I feel like my eyelids just got glued shut.”

“You’re so dramatic.” He cracked his eyes back open, several blinks and a few funny faces to adjust the stiffness, before he was tapping lightly at his skin, fingers pulling away clean. “You should still be careful with it, but it should hold. Just don’t… rub your face, or get any drinks thrown at it by scared party-goers.”

“Always ruining my fun.” Mattheo’s wistful sigh had you laughing once again, slipping down from the counter and slipping your hands under the edge of his baggy shirt. Lifting it up carefully and guarding his face, he raised his arms up, helping to slip off the shirt without disturbing the makeup on his face, leaving it heaped next to the paints and brushes on the counter. “Always helping me out.”

“Yes, well, someone’s got to keep your hopeless arse out of bother.” You leaned in, placing a kiss on his chest. “What does the rest of this group costume consist of?”

“Suits. Not sure whose choice that was, probably Dray’s one condition on joining in.” Pretty brown eyes rolled at his friend, even if his lips were raised in a wide smile. “I’ll get ready, and then we can go to your dorm and get you all ready before meeting the rest?”

“I’ll go start getting ready now, while you do. Save some time.” He only hummed, your heart skipping a single beat as the first deception of the night passed seamlessly through your lips.

“Alright, I’ll pick you up in fifteen minutes.”

You only nodded, pecking his lips delicately one more time, before slipping from his arms, out of his dorm and into the corridors. Your feet were moving fast, like a sprint through the halls towards your own dorm. Fifteen minutes was barely enough time to grab the things you need and escape from the Slytherin dorms without your boyfriend seeing you. You dragged out the bag you’d already packed from under your bed, and the pre-written note you’d hidden in your bedside drawer.

His name was written neatly across the front, and you flipped it open, double-checking the message inside. In perfect, neat cursive;

‘Find me before midnight xo’

Folding it back up and propping it on the bed where you knew he’d see it, you eyed it for a second. Putting down your bag and rooting through, you gave your lips a half-hearted swipe of red lipstick, blotting them for a second before pressing a kiss to the note over his name, a single clue to start the game, before returning it to its spot.

With that, you were off, leaving your dorm unlocked and enchanted, for his entry and his entry alone.

The common room was packed with groups gathered, ready to leave for the Weasley twins’ party, making it easy for you to blend in and disappear. The halls were just as busy, decorated and overflowing with chatter, the castle ghosts crowding and gathering happily to add to the atmosphere.

Everyone else seemed to be heading down and out, leaving you as one of the few people heading up, to the prefect’s bathroom on the fifth floor. It was empty as you arrived, the sound of your bag hitting the floor creating an echo to bounce off of the walls.

Tugging on your costume only took minutes, stashing your clothes back in the bag and leaving it open as you fished through for your makeup kit. It was as you were leaning across the sink, one eye closed as you swept eyeliner into a sharp point in one corner that the door crashed open once again. Jess stumbled through it, arms full of whatever costume the Weasley boys had forced upon her, and you stood straight up, trying not to blink and smear the wet liner before it dried.

“Pushing it late, huh? Party starts in fifteen minutes!”

“Don't remind me…” Jess shucked off her robes, dumping the cloak on top of your empty bag, and beginning to undo the buttons of her shirt as you turned back to the mirror once again.

When you were satisfied with your makeup, two sharp wings on either side and red lips to match your dress, you gave a happy nod to your reflection. With a few minutes to spare and a bottle of nail polish waiting to be used, you hopped up onto the sink. Costume now donned, Jess was lacing up heeled boots that reached all the way to her thighs.

“Are you trying to scare the masses, or seduce them?” With only a sly smirk of her own in return, Jess made her way to the mirror beside yours, plucking the red lipstick from your makeup bag.

“I’m supposed to be a bloodthirsty sorceress,” Popping the cap, she applied a coat. “Know any men who wouldn't mind having their hearts ripped out?”

“A few. The boys will be in skull makeup tonight, so aim for them first.” Your legs swung as you chuckled at her statement, focused on the brush moving across your nails. You wondered just how many of the boys were ready, and what Mattheo was doing right now. Surely, he’d already be on the hunt. “Save the curly one for me, though.”

Jess only beamed in response. “You’ve sent Riddle out on that wild goose chase yours, then?”

You shrugged, ever the picture of easiness as you blew on your wet nails to dry them. “He’s got until midnight to find me.”

Excited knots twisted at your stomach with the mere thought, the thrill of the cat-and-mouse chase. It would likely drive Mattheo insane, knowing you were toying with him as he searched. “What happens when the clock strikes twelve?”

“Let's just say, that I’m fully prepared to live up to my house name, and let him slither in.”

Zipping your makeup bag up with the nail polish inside, you packed all of the clothes into your bag, stashing it behind one of the sinks. “At least one of us is having fun tonight.”

Oh, that was no doubt. You weren’t sure ‘fun’ was even a fair word to use, knowing that the way you were riling your boyfriend up was more like a first-class ticket to seeing Heaven. “Who says you can’t? You may owe Fred a favour, but that doesn’t mean you can’t cause a little trouble.”

Jess shared a devious smile, sliding a gold mask into place as you slipped your own red one on to match, “I like the way you think.”

Placing the final part of your costume onto your head, the small horns on the headband complete your ‘devil’ look, and you hopped down to join her.

With your arm linked through your friend’s, the two of you set off. At the pathway marked as the beginning of the no-doubt terrifying journey ahead, Jess split off, a wink in your direction as you blew a kiss in hers, wishing her luck on the night of haunting ahead, mind set on your own task.

Mattheo had told you where the boys all planned to meet, leaving you plenty of time to slip into the throng of people and disappear into the masses. Your plan: to remain hidden in plain sight.

Weaving through the crowds, eyes scanning over every person there, it wasn’t long until you spotted your boyfriend. Leaning against the trunk of a tree, flanked by only Enzo and Draco so far, he was already searching for you amongst the hordes. You followed closely behind a group, slipping into their ranks seamlessly, as Mattheo’s focus moved across you, flickering over the group and dismissing them quickly as strangers. A spark of excitement shot along your spine.

Just like that, you were walking straight past him. Your cover merely being that of standing among people you didn’t even know meant letting him look right through you like fog in the early morning.

Slipping inside one of the hidden walkways, darkness encased you, hiding you from view as all the horrors and thrills Fred and George had managed to create took place.

Actors in costumes, enchantments to create realistic scenes, and laughter poured from your lips as much as screams did, your heart was pounding as you cleared the tunnel minutes later.

Surrounding the clearing on all sides were various attractions. How they’d managed to pull all this together, you had no idea, but the twins never failed to impress you. Several hexed bonfires filled the clearing, a hazy setting washing over your skin from that very first sniff of woody smoke pulled into your lungs.

A haunted hayride, pulled along no doubt by the thestrals that Luna seemed so fond of took off on your right, a speakeasy-style building to the left, a haunted house with screams filling the chill night air right before you. Bobbing for apples, a spooky corn maze with moving scarecrows, everything that would send chills down your spine.

Mattheo and the boys would likely catch up any moment, more visitors pouring in around where you’d paused at the end of the tunnel to admire, so you spurred yourself into action. The night couldn't end just yet, you still had hours of fun ahead of you.

Angling yourself towards the speakeasy first, you stepped through the door, the subtle smell of gin and perfumed musk washing over your senses as you stepped up to the twisted staircase, flickering lights disappearing into darkness before your very eyes.

Down, down, down, you moved. Swallowed whole by the shadows, your shaky laughter would doubtless have clouded your breath with the sudden chill that took you over, so dark for a moment you couldn't even see your hand before your face. Then, just as your hand skimmed towards your wand for a Lumos spell, a curtain swept aside, a couple stumbling out between fits of tipsy giggles, guiding you with flashes of coloured lights and the beat of unconfined music.

The moment you were inside, all silencing spells wore off, blinding lights flashed across the dance floor, with the music that was pounding through the room so deep the base travelled up your legs. The floor was packed, everybody dancing to their heart’s content, and those who weren’t were gathered around small tables for card games, or crowding the bar.

It wasn’t long until you located a group of your friends, some with their dates, some solo, and you were quickly immersed under the cover of the group. The beat had your eyes slipping closed, rhythm flowing through you as your body swayed. A drink was pressed into your hand by a friend, the fruity taste coating your tongue and leaving your body in a numb haze.

You had to say, you were impressed by the effort the twins had gone to. Despite the student-body having only found out about this party a few weeks ago, you knew for them to have pulled this off, they’d have to have been planning since Valentine’s Day. Songs passed by in a blur of dancing and more drinks, a shot came soon, so spicy your eyes watered and throat stung, only soothed by the lime you were handed to follow.

Wiping a stray droplet of juice from under your lip as you pulled the slice away, you almost missed the flash of skull makeup and blond hair in your peripheral. Draco was on the dance floor, making his way across, a smirk on his lips as a hand with manicured nails reached out to clasp his tie, trying to tug him into a dance.

You didn’t have to search for long to find the face you knew so well, the one you’d painted yourself only a couple of hours prior, also on the dance floor. Hands reached for him too, trying to pull him this way and that, but he wasn’t stopped. No, he was searching. Looking at every face with your hair colour, checking under masks and turning dancers around despite their protests, just to rule them out from the game.

And he was heading right for you.

Spinning away from him, you ducked across towards a friend, her arms looping around your body as you neared, none the wiser to the game you were playing, and the distraction she provided. Swaying your body with her own, you pushed your lips close to her ear, watching Mattheo over her shoulder. “I need another drink, you want one?”

She only shook her head, released you near the back of the group and let herself get swept back up, as you were hidden away behind the crowd, sneaking towards the bar.

Padma and her sister were serving quickly, wands in hand as they floated several cups through the air all at once. Slices of fruit and cubes of ice drop, tinkling into plastic cups ready for them to fill.

Flagging down one of the twins, a shaky breath of pure excitement leaves you, as you turn your focus back to your boyfriend. He looks like he’d been having fun. A little dishevelled, the top buttons of his shirt undone and his tie loosened, smudges of dirt and glitter on his clothes from wherever he and his boys had been playing, scaring unsuspecting patrons and gathering screams.

His hair was no longer the neat style he’d doubtless have gelled it into, the stands messy from running his fingers through it, and curls beginning to form in the heat of the bar. A single curl fell across his forehead, brushing through the paint, and your fingers itched to brush it out of his eyes, like always.

He’d reached the group now, searching idly in the area you’d been occupying, not finding you where you’d once been, chasing only steps behind and having no idea.

The visible frustration he wore gave you a cocky smile, a rush of pride filing you up, watching as he made to move on, to more fruitless endeavours.

Then, a hand shot out.

A hand in a black lace glove, attached to a girl in a full-body leather jumpsuit, hugging every inch of her body, the little cat ears you knew well. A member of your former dance group, poking up into the air. Pulling him to a stop, he bowed his head, lips moving and a conversation you couldn't hear taking place, and his head snapped up in your direction.

For a second, your breath caught, swearing he almost looked right at you as he scanned his gaze over the bar. Someone had told him you’d been there, that you’d headed for the bar, and he filled with renewed vigour, eyes twinkling with mischief even from this distance.

Motioning to Draco— who now had the rest of the owner of that manicured hand wrapped around him— to head to the bar, he moved like a man whom wild horses wouldn't be able to stop. The crowd parted around him as he moved, leaving nobody in his wake, not until he was right up to the bar at the other end. He motioned for one of the twins to take his order.

Padma finally arrives to take your drink request, your order only adding to the floating display over their heads, and the display is utterly mesmerising. Much like the floating candles in the Grand Hall, light shimmers and reflects through every drink and piece of glass, light bursting out across the room.

Following one trail of light, you spot Jess entering the bar, followed quickly in tow by someone in matching skull makeup, this one with shaggy blonde hair, his eyes locked on her like she’s the only girl in the room. You quirk a brow, sealing that little piece of information away for later.

You’re so caught up with your people-watching that you almost forget the game afoot, that Mattheo is so close, until the rough grate of his voice only a few seats down breaks you from your reverie. Snapping your eyes to him, he’s leaning on one arm, back to you as his focus scans out across the crowd. Somewhere on the dance floor is Enzo, you’re sure, and Draco has his lips on the neck of his mystery girl, completely ignoring Mattheo’s summons to the bar. You know where Theo’s interests lay, and you’re not sure where Pansy and Blaise will have snuck off too, likely some dark corner where they won’t be seen.

Your boyfriend was the only one in the group not dancing tonight, something that had you smirking. Swiping up your drink and bringing the straw to your lips, you admired his jawline as he stretched his head, once again searching. That was until a girl in a tight black dress and black feathered angel wings made her way over to him, clearing her throat lightly to bring back his attention as he continued the hunt.

“Hi, Mattheo. Over here all alone, why aren’t you out there—”

“I have a girlfriend.” His curt response was flat and bored, and you almost snorted some of your drink trying not to laugh. Her expression wavered, a pout forming on her lips as she tried again, undeterred, reaching out to take the end of his tie between two fingers.

“I don’t see her.”

Smoothing his hand down his front to remove his tie from her hold, he scoffed, shaking his head; “Neither do I, that’s the damn problem.”

This time, you were too slow in holding back your laughter, the sound bursting from you against your control. You hoped the music would cover it, but Mattheo heard it, whipping his head around in your direction, as he began to analyse every person at your end of the bar.

Taking your drink and quickly ducking behind a man dressed as the Phantom at the Opera, you ducked and dove between people, daring a look back at the bar to see Mattheo stood where you had once been, looking amongst the people, but thankfully, not in your current direction.

Glancing around for some quick cover, you spotted Jess, making your way over to her and watching as the boy she was with parted with a lingering kiss to her cheek. She clocked your approach, a wide smile bursting free on her lips, and her hands reached for you, tugging you into a dance with her as soon as you were near enough.

“I take it Riddle hasn’t found you yet?”

“No, but he’s close.” You have to shout over the music, tipping your head in the direction you last saw him. She glances over your shoulder toward the bar, where her dance partner seems to have found himself too, along with the others.

“Gettin’ colder, he and Draco are heading toward the exit.” Spinning you around smoothly, a smirk pulled on your lips. A determined-looking Mattheo began to chase a cold lead, the unsuspecting girl who did look rather like you from behind leading him off-course.

Twisting back to face her, your brow hitched up as the mystery man began to make his return, two new drinks in hand. “Is that Theodore Nott you’re flirting with?”

“Maybe, maybe not.” It was her turn to smirk, shrugging and brushing her hair from her shoulders. “He doesn't know it’s me, though, so if he asks you, you have no idea who I am tonight.”

“My lips are sealed.”

With a final wink, you slipped away, knowing she’d only be alone for a second before your boyfriend’s best friend was all over her once again. Following in the direction Mattheo had just left, you reentered the dark halls. The glow of his and Draco’s wands ahead, that and their murmured chatter bouncing from the walls, was your pin-point to follow through the new maze of tunnels.

Too busy looking ahead, he had no idea you were right behind him.

Hands reached out, faces flashing before your eyes as actors and other fear-mongers stalked the dark tunnels, and if it wasn’t for your boyfriend’s light ahead, you’d have screamed and given yourself away a long time ago. When you reached the central clearing once again, it was even busier than it had been before, you emerged not long after the boys, from a hidden alcove between the cornfield maze and a stand selling hot cider.

Mattheo and Draco were gone, disappearing faster into the masses than you could comprehend, likely to find more of their little group, and you grabbed a cider, digging a galleon out of your pocket and tossing it into the collection jar, before taking a stroll around the maze. It was in there that you found Pansy and Blaise, hidden away in a darkened corner, just as you suspected.

Both had swollen lips and glossy eyes when you cleared your throat at them, grinning at the blush spreading across your friend’s pale cheeks, as Blaise only smirked.

“Ah, well, look who it is.” He mused, covering Pansy as she attempted to adjust her costume once again, and your laughter wasn’t lost on her, only getting flipped off as she tried to pull the corset top back up over her bra. “By your absence of lover boy, I take it Mattheo hasn’t found you yet?”

“So, he’s told you about the little game I’ve laid out, has he?”

“Oh, absolutely. We have a little bet going. By all means, keep this up, you have me winning. I bet he wouldn't find you at all.” Your head tipped to the side, a little sip of your hot cider as you considered his words, before Pansy was snatching it from your hand, sniffling it, and taking a gulp.

“You bet against him?”

“Of course, look at you. Over halfway through the night and he still hasn’t found you. Pansy, on the other hand…” He teased, and she smacked at his arm. You gasped.

“Pans, you bet against me? And to think, I was sharing my drink with you.” Snatching it back, she pouted, but shrugged.

“Hey, nothing against you. He just had better odds, he’s recruited everyone to help him find you!”

“And a marvellous job you’re all doing of that. Tell me, did you find me hiding behind Blaise’s tonsils?” Her cheeks went red again, along with a burst of deep laughter from the other culprit that had him clutching his stomach. She shushed him quickly, despite the silencing spells cast over the maze for an added air of creepiness.

“Well, here you are, are you not?”

“Sure.” You rolled your eyes fondly, stepping away from the pair. “I’ll let you get back to your intense searching. Don’t tell Matty you saw me!”

And with that, you slipped back into the darkness, the bushes around you rustling and creaking as they changed with every step you took. It wasn’t until you’d successfully given up, growing bored as the chill of mist rose goosebumps on your skin that the hexed forestry finally freed you, a pathway clearing and opening up ahead of you to release you back to the party.

Seeking the moon in the sky, you found it not long until midnight, Blaise had told no lie, your game coming closer and closer to the end, where you would be crowned the winner. Taking a seat before the fireplace, you settle in to watch the flames, and peer around to spot your hunter.

There. It only took a second to find him but there he was, a little clearing across the way, leaning against some haybales with a blunt balanced between two fingers. Bringing it back to his lips, he took a drag, smoke filtering out into the cold air and obscuring his face, before passing the roll to Draco.

When the smoke cleared, his eyes locked on your own.

Just a second. A moment across the field, so far away, but he knew. Your breath hitched, his back straightened. Then he was moving, without even warning the rest of the group, he was taking long strides across the field, closing the distance between you both, and adrenaline surged through your system as you shot to your feet.

Your closest building was the haunted house, his eyes narrowing, a silent warning when a smile curved on your lips, already knowing your next move.

You bolted, a giggle breaking free as the true chase began, and he called your name, the sound lost amongst the chatter and amusement of everyone else gathered around. Slipping through the hoards of people, you stumbled through the front door, watching as Mattheo rounded the porch, trying to snake his way through to catch up.

A kaleidoscope of colours, screams and shouts and music, different rooms with every theme as you were ushered through in a rush, the whole attraction feeling like a fever dream as you searched for the exit. The game was reaching its peak, midnight neared, the moon called it into the sky, and being so close to the last moments, you were determined to win.

Stumbling out into the cold night air once again, you headed for the tree-line, secluded enough that you could lean on the thick trunk of an old oak. You watched the entrance to the haunted house, a red-painted lip caught between your teeth, eager for him to emerge in your wake.

You waited.

Waited.

Seconds ticking by, and the thunderous race of your heart in the moment finally began to slow. Gasping breaths became softer pants, calling to you the silence of the world around you when blood was no longer pumping in your ears.

A twig snapped behind you, and before you could turn to acknowledge the sound, a hand was sealing over your mouth, an arm banded around your waist, dragging you back into the darkness.

Spun around in their arms, your panic lasted barely a second, before soft lips were pressing firmly to your own, the familiar smell of cigarette smoke and woodsy cologne filling your senses. Your arms came up, gripping him just as tightly as he walked you backwards, pressing you to a tree as he left a dozen kisses on your lips, longing and loving after hours apart.

“You’re a little minx, do you know that?”

“Actually, I’m a little devil.” You snickered, hands on his chest to push him back enough to look down at your outfit, motioning to the horns still on your head. “See?”

“I see it, baby. I have to say, I love this costume.” His hand fell to your thigh, callouses scraping across soft skin until he found the short hem, tugging and twisting the flowing skirt around his fingers. “I’ve been searching every girl for red lipstick all night, thanks to your little clue. Should have known you’d be decked out in all red, too. Standing out, right there, the whole time.”

His mouth descended upon your own once again, a happy sound rumbling in the back of his throat as you kissed back just as eagerly, one hand sliding up into his hair. His hand squeezed at your thigh, slipping back down as far as your knee, only to hike your leg up around his hip, shocking you into a gasp.

“I’ve been running around all night trying to find you, and you were right under my nose the whole time, weren’t you?”

His kisses descended to your neck, a shaky sound slipping free as his teeth teased a spot on your jaw that made you tremble, gripping tighter to his suit for stability. Your breath was shaky as you spoke, desperate to reclaim some power, despite the way he was undoing you already, “What, you didn’t like my little game?”

“Oh, I loved your little game, baby. But, I think I just won. It’s a few minutes to midnight.” Licking a stripe across the underside of your jaw, you mewled, head tipping back against the tree, hips bucking up to meet his own, and he grunted. “What’s my prize?”

His gaze came back up, dark and challenging and sultry as he stared down at you, smirking. Licking across one red lip, his attention focused there, his own lips parting, getting closer, needy for another taste. “The second part of the costume, of course.”

Gripping his wrist and sliding it up and under your skirt, his fingertips smoothed over the lace of your panties. He didn’t hold back his groan, gripping your ass tightly in his hand and tugging you forward to rub against him once again. “Red, I assume?”

“Smart boy.”

“My dorm?” He whispered, forehead falling to your own, a needy sound your only form of reply as your hips rolled together, friction dragging and sparking heat across your body.

“What, you want to leave the party already?”

Your teasing words weren’t appreciated if the squeeze to your rear was any indication. “Game is over, don’t play with me anymore, my love. I need you, now.”

“Then let's go.”

The two of you stumbled along, barely keeping your hand to yourself as you hurried back through the woods, avoiding the crowds and teasing whistles of your friends by taking a more covert route instead. You certainly weren’t the only ones with the same thoughts, various couples were dotted through the woods, wandering hands and desperate kisses exchanged behind the trees and throughout the branches.

His hand was tight around yours, tugging you along with his pace, but when he stopped short, you almost crashed straight into his back. Following his line of sight, you huffed, pushing him with a hand on his back to get his feet moving again.

“Is that Theo over there, zipping his pants back up? Who’s he out here with?”

“You want gossip, or you want sex, Matt?” His body jolted at the insinuation, feet stumbling over one another as he picked the pace again. Guiding the two of you through one of the tunnels he had likely discovered during his night of scaring, the two of you paced back through the speakeasy.

Up the haunted stairs.

Through the woods.

Along the halls.

Past the common room.

And then, he was backing you up against his dorm door, fingers fumbling with the lock, pressing frenzied kisses to your lips as he slid the mask off of your face and threw it to the floor.

"You taste like cinnamon and wine." Mattheo moaned, practically sucking the taste of mulled cider from your tongue as you ground against his clothes cock.

"You taste like cigarettes and whiskey." Your words are bitten off as he nips on your lower lip, a whine spilling from you as his hand snakes back up your skirt, toying with the lace of your panties again. Hooking his fingers into the waistband, he snapped them against your hip. The sting of the elastic on your flesh made you gasp, and he only chuckled into your mouth in response.

“Godric knows, you’ve been driving me crazy tonight, baby, thinking about these red lips, lookin’ for them everywhere. Now I want to see what that red looks like around the base of my cock.”

Your fingers trailed across the front of his body, shaky fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt, tugging it more and more until it hung open, only his tie in the way as you peppered his chest with open-mouthed kisses. A moan spilled from his throat, his head tipping back, and he yanked at the tie, throwing it to the floor, quickly joined by his shirt and blazer until his torso was bare and exposed to your ministrations.

Your hands gripped his hips, spinning his body with your own until his back was to the wood instead. Mattheo only smirked, eyes half-lidded as he watched you, your red lipstick already smeared across his mouth, printed on his chest, his own makeup smudged to match.

One heavy hand found your shoulder, pressing you down, until you were on your knees before him, tugging at his belt as he lifted his hips from the door. His arrogance only grew, lifting one hand to comb through your tangled hair as you struggled with his trousers, pulling at them until they were halfway down his thighs. His cock sprung free, a hiss on his lips as the cold air of the dorm met his flushed skin.

Gathering your hair up and out of your face, he gripped it in a bunch behind your head, not pushing or pulling, just waiting as you peered up at him, licking over one kiss-bitten lip. His other hand fell to your cheek, smudging streaks of black and white facepaint as he went, tracing his thumb across your lower lip.

“You’re so beautiful, my love,”

Your smile made his thumb fall to your chin, a single squeeze, before he was retracting his hand, and manoeuvring your head towards his cock. Slipping the tip past your lips, a shudder passed over his body, his thighs clenching under your hands as your nails dug into his flesh, and his head ‘thumped’ on the wood of the door as it fell back.

“Salazar fuckin’ save me,” He panted, slipping further and further, his grip in your hair tightening with every inch, until he was tapping the back of your throat, your gag buzzing along his flesh in a way that made his hips buck. “Love your pretty little mouth. Make it so good for me, baby.”

Smiling as best you could with every inch of his cock slipping into your mouth, his hand tightening in your hair, pulling back just enough to let you take a breath before his hips were bucking again. This time, as he sank back into your mouth, your lips tightened around him, sucking suddenly, and his broken moan bounced off the walls of his dorm.

Again, and again, he was pushing you further, until you were comfortably taking him deep into your throat, tears lining your eyes, threatening to spill over your cheeks in a way you knew he loved to see. “Fuck, you’re so good down for me,”

Tracing your tongue around the head of his cock, you took control, sinking down against him and dragging your tongue along his cock, feeling the throb of that prominent vein. You moaned against him, and his body tensed at the feeling, making you pull back, just enough to have him gasping as the pleasure was ripped away.

You kissed at his hip, nipping his hip bones where they pressed to his skin, and a babbling mess of your name was all you got as he panted, flushed skin rising and falling.

Your hand took over, pumping his spit-slick shaft slowly, dragging up until his hips were following your hand with a pathetic groan. He finally had enough, enough of your teasing as you caught your breath, his head tipping back forward against his shoulders and blissed-out eyes narrowing on you.

“Tongue out for me, pretty girl.”

Your stomach flipped at his words, at the gravel in his tone, the way he yanked your hair back to control you as you opened your mouth, tongue falling out as he’d asked.

His cocky smile grew as you grinned back at him. Guiding his cock back to your mouth, he let the weight of it sit on your tongue, rubbing softly, pre-cum leaking and the taste of him made your thighs clench together.

He didn’t miss the action, not at all, his hips thrusting lazily in and out of your mouth as he gave you a nod. Sealing your lips back around him, you moved enthusiastically once again, bobbing up and down along his cock, wringing every bit of pleasure from him that you possibly could.

“So fucking good, baby, just like that. You like sucking my cock, huh? Always so eager for my cum in your mouth.” Pulling back, his cock fell free of your lips, spit tainted with red lipstick and pre-cum connected his tip to your lips, and he gathered it on his fingers. That same hand cupped your cheek, smearing it across your skin, “Not today though. Today, all my cum is going in that pretty pussy of yours.”

Kissing across his abs as you rose to your feet, his mouth was slamming onto your own. Tongue plunging in, your moan was lost to his lips as he worked at your clothes too, tugging at your dress, horned headband falling to the floor as he yanked the garment over your head.

Kicking off his trousers and stripping himself the rest of the way, he panted, eyes wide, admiring the lace set you’d donned for his eyes only tonight. “You’ve been wearing this all night, and you let me chase you ‘round for hours?”

His hands skimmed over your body, almost reverent with the lightness of his touch, tracing the corset top that hugged your chest, pushing your tits up to the perfect fullness. The panties with their tiny straps, sitting perfectly on your hips, across your cheeks to make your arse look round and shapely, the strings and ribbons that had his mouth watering as he stared in awe. “You like it?”

He only growled, a flash of cold travelling across his eyes as you fuelled the carnal desire boiling within him. He was moving in a flash, sitting on the edge of the bed and bending you sideways across his lap, his wet cock prodding your stomach as you gasped at his manhandling. His hand smoothed over your flesh, across the seam of your panties, chuckling at the wetness he found on the material, and swirling at your clit. “How many times, huh? How many times did I almost get to you, but you escaped me?”

“Th-Three.” Your mind was foggy, hazy as pleasure began to take over. Your eyes fluttered shut as you hung limply across his thighs, core clenching around nothing. He hadn't even touched you properly yet, and you were already falling apart for him. Your gut was tightening, hips rocking and pressing back onto his fingers as you neared that peak, the excitement and electricity of the night had had you worked up for hours now, all moving toward this.

“Three times. Three times you ruined my victory, so I think three times, I’ll ruin yours.”

His words had barely even registered in your mind when his touch left you, a cry of protest being cut shut by a sharp slap across your ass, your body jerking forward at the force, and pleasure zipped through you, despite your denied orgasm. “Damn it, Matty…”

“That’s what you get, baby.”

You pushed yourself up, shaky hands, putting on your best pout as you turned to face him. He only mimicked the expression, mocking you. Tugging you in instead, he licked his way into your mouth, filthy, panting kisses taking over as he made sure to ruin whatever was left of your makeup. You adjusted yourself across his body, settling down to sit against one thigh, nipping on his bottom lip and rocking your hips.

Slow, so slow, you moved over him, feeling the muscle of his thigh tense up underneath you, his hands roaming your body, distracted and oblivious of the pleasure you were taking for yourself as that fiery pleasure rekindled once again. He reached for the back of the corset, tugging at the hoops, undoing them roughly until it was falling to the floor and he was catching one nipple between his lips.

“Oh, fuck, Mattheo…” You whispered, arching closer to him, pushing your chest further into his face as he teased his teeth across the taut bud. A sob left your lips, fingers carding through his hair, tugging at the roots to convey words that were melting to nothing on the top of your tongue.

His arm caught around your waist, tugging you closer into his body, making it harder for you to move as you tried to squirm in his lap. His breathy laugh spread over the skin of your chest as he littered it with hickies, switching to the other side and leaving one wet, perky nipple cool in the air of the room.

“Matt, please!”

“Please, what? What do you want, my love?” When he was satisfied with the havoc he was wreaking on your body, his attention moved to your neck. Your arms around his shoulders, head tossed back, panting and whining as you ground against his thigh. “You wanna’ come, baby?”

“Y-Yeah.” The feeling was burning through your veins, taking you over, your eyes rolling back as your pussy throbbed.

He pulled you in, a finger and thumb on your chin to guide your face back to his own, lips brushing. “Too bad.”

He gripped you once again, both arms holding you steady, unable to chase any kind of pleasure, as he kissed your neck, his smirk on your skin showing he knew just what he was doing.

“Thought you’d get away with that, didn’t you? I’m not even going to count that one.” Tugging your panties to the side, two fingers sank into you, and your back arched into his body as he touched you at last. “You can’t win at my game. My little loser, huh? What a shame.”

You were shaking atop him, the feeling of his fingers, the curl and the pump he knew so well. Mattheo could read your body like a map, he knew just what you needed, just how to touch you, and he was using that to his advantage. Two fingers became three, stretching you out deliciously and yet it still wasn’t enough. You collapsed against his body, desperate to come, moaning like a whore and forever on the edge as he toyed with you.

Your forehead was pressed to his, crying his name, begging against his mouth as he licked at your lip, tipping his head up to catch you for a kiss. When he pulled away this time, you could feel the tears in your eyes, nails digging into his skin, pleading with sounds that no longer resembled words.

You could feel his frustration; every time he’d almost found you, every dead-end, every narrow escape.

A sick, twisted part of you was loving every second of this delicious torture, and you found yourself face down in the sheets, panties around your thighs and his cock slamming into you, so hard that a scream ripped through you.

“Shh, you can take it, my little demon. I know you can.”

“I can, Matty. I can take it. I can take more.” You wanted it, you wanted it bad, spurring him on. Your hands scratched in the covers, legs spreading even further, body rocking with every deep thrust he gave you. His kisses travelled over your spine as your tears smeared mascara and eyeliner into the sheets. His body smothered you, one hand coming around to clasp your own, love shining through in his actions even as he ruined you, took you apart until your mind was shattered.

You’d be wrecked in the morning, you’d surely be unable to walk, sore legs and trembling limbs, you’d have to spend half the morning just recovering from the way he was fucking you now. Brutal, fast, slamming in and out and making you sure your eyes would never come back from how far they were rolled into your head.

Nerves were lighting up, electricity shooting along every cell of your body as his slick skin slid against yours, one hand in your hair, tugging your head back as his lips brushed your ears.

“Wish you could see yourself, pretty girl. Wish you could see what I see. Shaking, dripping, my cock sliding in and out of this pussy like you were made for me.” He slowed his pace, for just a second, and you keened back into him, chasing the pleasure that was already building once again, even if you knew it would be fruitless.

You may have lost the ability for sentient thought, but his count was ringing in your head, only two of three failed orgasms served. Your body tensed with a shudder, the anticipation lingering in the air like a sword over your head.

“You really do belong in the pits of hell, don’t you? Look what you do to me.” His teeth grazed over your shoulder, biting down on your skin enough to make you cry out his name, bucking against his touch as he soothed the bite with gentle licks. “There’s nothin’ angelic about you, you’re nothin’ but a sinner.”

His name spilled from your lips, again and again, like you were begging for redemption.

“You’re on your knees, but you’re praying to me.”

His hand snaked around your body, finding your swollen clit and brushing his fingertips across it, pitching the bud harshly between his fingers. “Matt—”

“You want to come?”

“Yes!”

“What a shame.” He slipped himself out of your cunt, spewed curses in anger leaving your wobbling lips, more tears spilling over as he took away the last part of your dignity.

Twisting your entangled bodies, he guided you until your back met the bed sheets, pushing you up as he crawled over you. Hooking his fingers into the edges of those panties and pulling them away, he spread himself over you.

He barely gave you time to recover, the stimulation all too much, as he lifted your legs to hook them over his shoulders plunge his cock back into the sopping heat of your cunt.

This may have been his game, but when his forehead came to rest on your own, hands frantically bunching in the sheets beside your body, you knew the last round had begun. The ball was in your court, his own need displayed clearly on his face as he rutted into you desperately. His rhythm was lost, sloppy and out of control, and you squeezed yourself around his cock.

You pressed sweet kisses to his lips, tempting him over the edge with a drag of your teeth across his lip, a lap of your tongue, and he was done for.

Finally, your peak crashed over you. Waves and waves, blinding pleasure that left you with silent, open-mouthed screams. Twitching underneath him, your fingers tore down his back, your legs snapped against his hips, holding him to your body as white-hot bliss drowned you.

He only needed a few more thrusts, your back arching and his name a chant, enough profanities to scar anybody passing by as the lewd sounds of your movements covered your moans. He came with a groan, thrusting through until the sound tapered off into a whimper, his own unsteady body collapsed down on top of you. Dragging breaths into his lungs to recover as his sweaty body covered you, you hooked your arms around him, hugging him close, unwilling for him to move even a fraction.

You felt numb, the aftershocks of pleasure racing through your body, still twitching and shaking despite his weight on top of you. Freeing one hand, he smoothed it up your body, dragging from your thigh to your ribs, stroking softly in soothing motions, as his lips gave delicate pecks, shushing every lingering whimper that escaped.

You reciprocated the action, raising one hand to land in his hair, fingers brushing through sweaty curls, as his cheek found your shoulder.

“That… was some of the best sex we’ve ever had.” Your words were still breathless, and he laughed lightly, nodding against you where he lay.

His skin was littered with lipstick, smudges of his facepaint on every part of your body, painted with love and lust everywhere you’d touched one another. The night was still heavy on your skin, the festivities outside still raging even if your night had come to an end.

Maybe minutes had passed, maybe hours, but eventually, Mattheo dragged himself up, pulling himself free from your body, and smirking down at every mark he’d left on your skin. With unbalanced steps, he wandered away to the bathroom of his dorm, the squeak of the taps and the splash of water in the basin signalling the running of a bath.

He offered you a hand as he returned, pulling you to your feet, the two of you wobbling your way through to the bathroom and taking stock of your mess as the water ran. Elixirs and salts, the fresh smell of jasmine and honey filled the air, and then you were sinking in, leaning back against Mattheo’s body as the two of you revelled in the hot water.

His hand looped around your body, fingers lacing with yours and resting on your stomach, as his chin hooked over your shoulder. For a while, the two of you remained just like that, chasing the cold of the night from your bones and merely enjoying one another’s company.

“Tell me, was that your little friend— the one who was ripping out hearts for the Weasel-twins— that I saw running from Nott in the woods, this evening?”

“Oh, Matty,” You chuckled, turning to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “You have no idea the games she’s been playing tonight.”

He only grinned, head resting on the edge of the tub. “I fear those two together, they’ll rip each other’s hearts out.”

“Maybe so,” You mused, his fingers dragging along your ribs, and you shuddered happily. “Or maybe, they just found their perfect match together.”

“Just like I found you.” He whispered, lips brushing along your cheekbone, and you scoffed.

“You’re so cheesy.”

“It was your game!”

Your hum echoed off of the walls. “Don’t tell Theo. I want to see how it plays out.”

“What, and ruin the surprise? I would never.” He smirked, “Besides, Theo didn’t help me find you, let him search for a while.”

Holding onto his forearm banded around your waist, your fingers traced up and down, before his hand caught yours, holding tight and weaving fingers your together.

“I love you, but don’t you ever run from me again. There is not a place on this earth you could hide that I wouldn't find you. I’d search forever.”

“You know,” You whispered, turning in his arms to sit across his lap, and he made a happy sound, face tipping up to brush his lips on your own. “That sounds vaguely threatening. You’re a little bit fucked up.”

“That’s because it is a threat, and a promise. Besides, you’re a little bit fucked up too, because I know you love it.”

You couldn't deny it, only able to snicker in response instead, and press a firm kiss to his lips, which he was happy to return. “I love you too, Matty. Now, let’s try and scrub off all this makeup, hm?”

#him always being so close had me all giddy and nervous as shit #and the chase #omfg i couldnt breathe #would 100% tease the shit out of mattheo just so he would wreck me after #chefs kiss 🤌#mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle

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takeiteasyonmeimstilllearning · 18 days ago

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Zenigata's scrunkle nose appreciation post

I think pt 4 has the best Zenigata face. Overall that is. I think it is also the most pleasant to look at idk, what's all of your guys favorite Zenigata face lmao

that or the specials from the 90s. You know like island of assassins. Where they give him a wrench for a chin. Those are some good Zenigata faces

#Pt 4 has the most consistent scrunkle nose #Miyazaki sorta has a scrunkle nose #Pt 1 is more scrunch me thinks #Alright yeah pt 6 don't got his schunch #I'd rate pt 6 with pt 2's nose #Pt 3 oh lord his nose and everyone else's nose depends on how the animators feel that day. Not a lot of consistent scrunkle nose #But when pt 3 does do zenigata's nose with a scrunkle it is *chef's kiss* 🤌🫴#And then Tokyo crisis is more a scrunch ish than his skrunkle #lupin the third #lupin iii #lupin 3rd #inspector zenigata #koichi zenigata #zenigata #zenigata lupin the third #zenigata screenshots #Lupin the third

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velvetlaceee · 6 months ago

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Pandora just got her new Martini set🍸

Ladies and gentlemen - Martini by @bbygyal123 🗣️🍸

Inspiration by @marilynjeansims 🤍

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soaring-trash · 10 months ago

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Don’t let the red end wake.

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hesterias · 5 months ago

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Miles Kane, 📸 by Lauren Dukoff, PR

#god how is someone so perfect it makes me brain whirl 😵‍💫#he's always gorgeous but 2018 miles is just so special to me. don't ask me to elaborate cause i can't i don't have the words for it #just chef's kiss all around 🤌🏻#miles kane #mine

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chishiyasan · 1 year ago

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“But I want to feel you,” you force out, whimpering as you buck against his fingers. He hasn’t let up on his rhythm; refuses to.

“You will,” he says, full of promises tonight. “This won’t be your only one tonight.”

Dude you can’t say shit like that out here either; you won’t be the only one dropping to your knees if you keep this up

silver underground. / chapter 14.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x F!Reader (Attack on Titan / Shingeki no Kyojin)

Word Count: 4K

Summary: flashback four - this is just straight-up levi filth

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ / nsfw (nipple play, fingering, dirty talk, semi-public sex, praise kink, multiple orgasms)

Previous Chapter. / Next Chapter. | Masterlist.

CHAPTER 14 - FLASHBACK: FOUR

We’re friends.

Technically it’s true.

Friends who fight until they’re a sweaty heap on the ground, expecting exhaustion to hit how it used to; before that fateful party.

Friends who meet up in secret for days, months, perhaps even years until time passes in the blink of an eye and you're left wondering if this was how it always was.

Friends who disappear from the world for an hour, then an hour and a half, two, until it borders on three because time itself is a construct.

Sparring becomes your excuse — and everyone saw it coming.

Everyone except the twenty year-old man waiting for your arrival, and you, who showed up ten minutes early because you couldn't wait any longer.

(Neither you or Levi Ackerman had ever been self-aware when it came to matters of the heart.)

Turning the corner at the determined sparring grounds, your heart squeezes at the mere sight of him: hands in his pockets, billowing white shirt slightly unbuttoned, boyish hair cascading over his forehead. His body is shrouded in shadow, out of sight, but you see him.

You always do.

“Hey,” you greet breathlessly.

Levi says nothing, yet his left hand flexes when his gaze drops in line with your chest.

Ever since your eighteenth birthday, you've refused to remove the silver necklace gifted to you. Whether you're sleeping, showering, fighting, here — it stays glued to your neck.

Today, your olive button-down shirt slopes just enough to show it off.

(Wearing something he gave you drives him crazy. You've learned well enough by now.)

With minimal patience he waits for you to near. Easily you slide into the darkness, away from wandering eyes.

“Are we fighting today?” you ask after a beat, awkwardly standing in front of him.

You know the answer before he can speak, but you ask anyway.

Levi’s eyes linger on the necklace, memorizing, then raise to your face.

One word, blunt and loaded.

“No.”

That left hand shoots out to grab your wrist as he drags you into him in one swift motion, eager to get his hands on you.

You giggle to the sky, chin lifted, as your bodies collide. Levi hums in appreciation and uses the opportunity to press slow-open mouthed kisses up your neck.

It works every time: he knows what spots halt your laughter, and the heat of his ragged breath follows.

Suddenly it's less playful and more heated.

A chill runs up your spine as his right hand runs along your waist, bunching your shirt into his fist for an anchor when your nails rake through his scalp.

You’ve only ever gone this far with him: kissing until you both run out of air, dizzy and hazed.

In alleyways, behind carts, between stores; it only took almost getting caught in the apartment once when you both swore Furlan wasn’t home to exclusively take this outside.

You don’t mind. You need the air after he steals so much of your breath.

You want more, though, but aren’t sure how to ask for it. Every fucking time you start to paw at his chest, every goddamn time he starts to bring that friction to the apex of your legs where you burn for him, it stops.

Levi pulls away and centers himself and does the gentlemanly thing of walking you both home like he’s suddenly averse to calling you stupid and leaving you behind.

(Like he’s nervous to continue.)

You want things to change, but you don’t want this to change: Levi and James. James and Levi.

(He’s never been scared of you before, so why start now?)

“Levi,” you murmur above the crown of his head.

He swirls his tongue gently along a spot that he’s mercilessly assaulted with affection without breaking the skin. “Mmm?”

“Kiss me.”

“What do you think I’m doing?” he mumbles. “Cleaning you like a dog?”

You snort and use the leverage of your hand in his hair to tug at the strands, pulling his mouth off of your neck.

The back of your hand connects with the wall he leans against, but the roughness of brick isn’t what makes your breath hitch.

It’s the way he grunts, eyes nearing that familiar black when he’s turned on.

You’ve memorized it by now.

(Hell, you’ve gotten off to it plenty in the bathroom when everyone is asleep.)

“Do you not like it when I do that?” he asks instead, taking all of his thoughts and shoving it under an invisible bed so he can focus on your face instead.

You snort, rolling your eyes.

“Don’t be stupid, Ackerman.”

It’s enough of a distraction to make his brows knit — a perfect opportunity to lean in and capture his lips for your own.

He kisses back with just as much fire, the grip on your shirt only tightening when you part your lips. Running your tongue along his lower lip is a learned weakness. You’re discovering what makes him tick, as if a sequence will unlock what you really want.

“Here,” you whisper against his lips, taking charge after a beat when he doesn’t.

You kiss him fiercely, pressing into him, but your hands leave his hair to meet him at your waist.

Levi groans in response, shifting in his stance and tensing when your hand tugs him away from the crumpled safety of your shirt.

“Let me help,” you add, shaking his fingertips free enough to glide them across the smooth expanse of your stomach.

Levi hisses, almost pulling away, but you flick your tongue against his lower lip: don’t run.

A choked moan exits his throat when he relents, but you don’t anticipate the switch of power: your feet dance around his, counter-clockwise, until your back collides with the wall that was once behind him.

Your head remains cradled by his palm, cautious not to cause injury, while his other hand explores new skin.

He’s kicked, punched, scraped at your torso a thousand times, yet what knocks the air clear from his gut is simply this: his hand riding your button-down shirt higher, exposing your body to him and him alone.

“Fuck,” he curses into your mouth, and you grin. “How are you so soft?”

“What, afraid I was going to feel like a lizard?” you tease between kisses, unable to help yourself.

“Is today’s theme of insults animal-related?” Levi retorts, but his voice is back to that strained baritone that drives you completely insane. “Fuck off, freak.”

I’m trying to. I’m really trying to.

You’re still you. He’s still Levi.

The pokes and prods do not stop just because you can feel his fingertips inching closer and closer to the swell of your breast.

Your body practically screams at him: do it, do it, do it.

“And I don’t need help,” he adds minutes later, circling back to your original statement — only to pause completely when his middle finger hits sloped fabric.

Levi pulls away to look you in the eye, panting, and all you can do is stare back.

“I’m not glass," you remind him.

“I know,” he answers lamely.

“You can touch me.”

“I am touching you.”

“Levi.”

“What?”

“You can touch more.”

“I’m being…” He falters, searching for the right adjective in his hazy gaze. “...respectful.”

You lean in to gently tap the tip of your nose to his. “You don’t have to be, y’know.” Any tension in his shoulders melt at the contact. “Unless if you don’t kn—”

“Tell me, then.”

He flinches at his sharp request, cutting you off.

Your eyes widen as arousal shoots pins and needles through your body.

There is something about how vulnerable Levi looks when his nostrils flare, so determined in his conviction.

“Tell me what you like, what you want. I don’t— if you don’t like something—”

“Moving your hand up usually helps.”

His breath hitches at your bold direction, only to nod a second after.

His chin drops to watch his hand slide — first the pad of his middle finger over your bra, second pushed higher, higher, until his palm cups your breast.

Your shirt bunches at his wrist, protesting at the stretch.

You bite your lip, wishing you felt much of anything, but an idea pops into your head — and like he's read your mind, Levi has the same thought a split-second after.

He lets go and you get ready to protest, but his fingers drop to the first button of your shirt. He spends precious seconds undoing each one like he’s opening a holiday gift, unveiling a golden ticket, and as soon as your collarbone is fully exposes he dives in to kiss it.

A whine bubbles at your throat when he slides his lips lower, hungrily dragging down the expanse of your chest. “You don’t want me to be respectful?” he mumbles against your skin, rocking into your hips.

The pressure rips your breath clear from your lungs. “God, no.”

He hums, neither positive or negative. “What do you want, then?”

“Everything,” you blurt the first word that comes to mind, “anything you’ll give me.”

“Even if it’s respectful?” he muses, nose nuzzling the soft swell of your breast.

“Levi, you annoying little— ha.”

You didn’t think he’d be bold enough to push your bra cup down, releasing your breast to the cool night air. He drags a thumb experimentally over your nipple, seemingly mesmerized by the way it rises to attention under his command.

“Yeah?” he asks. “Were you saying something?”

Your eyes screw shut, unable to see the amusement etched across his face, but you hear it.

Your entire world is on fire, and you whimper when his thumb swirls at an agonizingly slow pace.

No words come to mind — all you can do is arch your back, head bent back on the brick wall, seeking more.

Levi bends his head to kiss down your breast, earning a moan the second his lips close around your nipple to replace his thumb. He takes his time swirling his tongue, flicking it, chasing the tiny noises bubbling in your throat for him.

You’ve quickly learned that anything he can give you — the necklace, the way you moan for him, the breathy way you plead his name — is all he really wants.

“Levi,” you shakily whisper, barely audible. His free hand snakes to the other side of your chest to run across your neglected breast. “Levi.” The swirl of his tongue is his only response. You squirm against the wall as a sharp, hot pang of arousal washes over you in a hot flash. “Le-vi.”

Finally he pulls his lips away when you moan in broken syllables but not without a short flick of his tongue to the perky bud.

“Yes?”

“Someone might— mmph, see.”

You hate that you have to bring in the logistics during public displays of erotic affection, but the keyword is public. Someone could walk right past this very alley — albeit unlikely — to either try to seek out you or Levi for something related to the gang.

His thumb absently runs along the cup of your bra, as if truly contemplating your observation.

Except you know what it looks like when Levi’s thinking of a plan.

He isn’t.

There isn’t a single thought behind those eyes.

“Guess this’ll be a test, then,” he decides, letting go of your chest to crowd your space.

“A test?”

He nods. “Of how stealthy you can be.”

You tilt your chin. “Stealthy?”

“Yeah. Quiet.”

“Ackerman, if you don’t trust by now that I can be qu—”

Your eyes widen at the implication of the way his wrist turns clockwise from your chest, fingertips gliding across the plane of your bare ribcage — until they’re pointing downward.

Oh.

He waits.

Watching.

His lips part, eyes focused on watching every micromovement in your face as you connect with what he’s silently asking — what he’s offering.

“Not Ackerman.”

“What?”

“Levi,” he chides. “Look at me and say my name.”

Immediately your eyes snap up, eager to meet his request — his demand.

You’ve witnessed Levi like this countless times as a leader of the gang. How he can command respect, attention, allegiance, merely with his words.

You’re willing to comply; to let go.

“...Levi,” you correct, dazed and too horny to challenge him.

"Again."

"Levi," you whimper, bordering a beg.

A flicker of emotion passes over his face in the gentle flinch at the bridge of his nose and between his eyebrows. Then it melts into opaque adoration, and you feel the heat rise from your bones to your skin.

“What do you want, James?” Levi mumbles, angling his body so his hand is hidden between the two of you. His palm is warm against your belly. “Be good and use your words.”

Be good. Your eyes grow impossibly wider.

You blurt the first thing that comes to mind.

“You.”

The ache of a word actually makes him smile.

“How badly?”

“You wanna feel for yourself?” you boldly ask, almost tripping up his power trip.

You reach past his hand to your trousers, and his eyes blink downcast. Your hand expertly unbuttons the fabric, creating more space.

You keep your attention on his face and notice his throat bob with anticipation.

"Yeah?" he asks.

"Yeah," you tell him.

A beat passes, and his fingers move a millimeter lower.

“Is this okay?” he questions, faltering in his confidence for one second to find explicit consent, but you’re already pulling him closer to kiss you on the mouth.

A distraction from being so goddamn nervous about this: Levi, touching you where no one else ever has.

There’s no one else you’d rather have. There’s never been anyone else.

He moans against your lips at the contact and nods — I hear you, loud and clear — before his fingers start to drag lower.

Past your belly button.

Past the fabric of your underwear — not quite diving in yet, but teasing the elastic with his fingertips to get a gasp out of you.

His lips upturn against yours when he roams further south, the tip of his middle finger dragging over your pubic mound and—

“Fuck.”

Levi swears sharply, breaking the kiss when he realizes how obscenely wet you are. You think you should be embarrassed, but all you can do is rock your hips closer to his hand. It drags his fingers closer to your clit, earning a needy whimper.

“This all for me?” he asks, breathy, awed.

“Only you,” you promise, and his fingertip experimentally strokes you through your soaked underwear. You choke on a breath, head dropping back to the brick wall.

“Cant say shit like that out here,” he warns under his breath, “because I’ll drop to my knees so fucking fast, James. Fuck worrying about getting caught.”

Your exhale rushes in a woosh.

(But he can say shit like that? )

His knee nudges your legs wider, giving him plenty of room to cup your pubic mound. To tease. To play.

You swear you forget how your lungs work. The domed, rocky sky above your head swirls as you spend all of your efforts not to cave to the floor.

“Please,” you sputter, needing more.

Needing everything.

He must realize your knees are going weak, because he presses his hip into yours, pinning you in place. “I got you,” he promises, and you moan between clenched teeth at just how dirty such a praise sounds on his lips.

The world is burning around you and all he can do is experimentally tease you, opting to circle the fabric until you squeak when his index finger catches your clit.

“There?” he huffs, trying one more time. Your entire body trembles. “You need me right there?” Squeezing your eyes shut, you nod so hard that the wall scratches the back of your head. “Okay, I got you, I got you.”

Then he doesn’t stop.

Slow, agonizing circles —

It’s amazing.

It’s torture.

You can feel just how easily his fingers glide over your underwear, ruined and soaked.

It’s too much. It’s not enough.

He keeps you pinned against the wall, mumbling incoherent encouragement — that’s it, you can take it — and you’re so embarrassingly close already from what little he’s done.

“I’m not — I think I’m going to—”

“It’s okay. I want you to.”

“But I want to feel you,” you force out, whimpering as you buck against his fingers. He hasn’t let up on his rhythm; refuses to.

“You will,” he says, full of promises tonight. “This won’t be your only one tonight.”

Your eyes shoot open, mouth hanging open to ask what he means.

“Wh—”

Then he presses a little harder against your clit with the same speed and your world crumbles.

His hand quickly smacks over your mouth when you yelp, succumbing to your first orgasm. You clench on nothing, fluttering and desperate. Stars fill the corner of your eyes until he stops moving his fingers and pulls his hand from you.

You shake your head and start to protest into his palm, delusional in your high.

“Ha, shit, Levi—”

Except he’s not letting you go.

The opposite: his fingers slip unceremoniously into your underwear, and he moans at just how wet and sensitive your clit is when his middle finger makes contact.

You shriek against his palm and he shushes you, toying the pad of his fingertip over your folds.

“Thought you said you didn’t need to prove how quiet you can be?” he asks, the smugness dripping from his voice.

You breathe hotly through your nose, strings of curses muffled back at him, and Levi smirks. From this angle, he looks like the devil incarnate — his hair flops over his eyes, beads of sweat matting the ends, so keen on watching you squirm and beg.

“One more?” You make a noise of surprise. “Oh — so two more?” Your eyes widen. “Three?”

Your tongue pokes out to lick his palm, and your heart sings when he laughs.

Levi actually laughs — breathy and earnest on the tip of his tongue.

You jerk your chin, setting your mouth free from his grip.

“Three?!” you whisper sharply, and he dips his fingers into your folds again.

The high has come down, leaving your body more compliant with his touches. That familiar warmth spreads, and you rock your hips into him once again.

Needy.

Searching.

The raven-haired man nods. “If we lived alone, then I would always give you at least three.”

If we lived alone.

(Like a couple would.)

Maybe he says such a wild scenario in the heat of the moment, but you can’t help the blush creeping onto your cheeks.

“If we lived alone, then I’d already be returning the favor,” you test talking dirty on your tongue, finding that it feels more natural than you would have expected.

Levi bites his lip, holding back a sound as his eyes wander down.

"I have way more shit I wanna do to you first before you can return the favor."

"Fuck, Levi."

"That's the plan one day, just not in an alley."

(Such a fucking dirty talker without even trying.)

After a moment of consideration, his hand pushes further into your panties to find your entrance, causing you both to pause.

Out of breath and flushed, he leans in for the smallest of kisses. You oblige, meeting his lips in an ironically chaste kiss.

Then he whispers against your lips, losing his confident edge for a moment.

“Can I…?”

You know what he’s asking.

You nod quickly and brace yourself for when his middle finger slowly, carefully, pushes inside.

It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before — a fullness that has you grasping for his shoulders in the search for something grounding. He peppers gentle kisses to your cheek.

“If it hurts—”

“No,” you interrupt, shaking your head. “Nothing hurts. Just feels… new.”

“Okay."

He doesn’t move his hand for a moment, allowing your body to adjust. Instead he tugs lightly at your trousers, pulling them down your hips for less constriction. Your bare ass touches the cool brick, causing you to hiss in surprise.

“Just tell me if it ever does.”

Then he slips his finger out, curving the digit, and pushes back in.

You moan soundlessly to the sky, dropping a hand to grip his bicep for stability. It flexes as his arm works you to ruin.

Over and over you whisper his name — Levi, Levi, Levi — and his ragged breath follows the melody.

“You feel so good,” he praises into your ear, kissing the outer shell of your ear. “Can you take more?” When you nod adamantly, he glides his ring finger to stretch you further.

This time it doesn’t hurt. It’s a delicious burn, slow and cautious, and you rock his fingers deeper into you. He curses as he watches his hand work you, focused on grinding the heel of his palm into your clit.

Levi continues fucking you with his fingers, searching for something, until the world stops — there.

You’re not sure what he’s brushed against inside you, but you’re smacking your own hand over your mouth when a strangled moan exits your throat unexpectedly.

“What?” he murmurs, but you can’t speak without moaning when he hits the same spot. “That feel good right there?” You’d be embarrassed at how quickly you nod if it wasn’t for the way he groans. “Good.”

After that, he knows precisely where to touch you — between the pressure on your clit and whatever the hell he’s found inside you, you feel insane. Out of your mind.

Like he’s taking you apart piece by piece only to put you back together in his vision.

You whine against your own hand, the sensation climbing higher and higher as you buck against him. It feels just as good this way, if not better — you never want to feel empty again. You never want him anywhere else.

Your chorus of mangled breathing mixed with the obscene sound of his fingers pushing you towards that edge for a second time carries through the alleyway.

There’s no time to be modest, not when Levi’s leaning back from your body to watch you under a curtain of sweat and lust. His eyes scan your torso to take in the disheveled trousers falling down your thighs, your open button-down shirt, your exposed chest — your silver necklace, proudly on display.

Pure admiration.

You contract against his fingers as that familiar wave starts to crest, causing you to erratically fuck yourself onto his hand without shame.

“Fuck, I can feel you getting close,” he says in awe, taking you out of the delusion. “You look so fucking good like this.”

You want to tell him you’ll look better if he fucks you right here, right now, against this wall.

That you’ll get on your knees, lay on your back, crawl on all fours, if that’s what he wants.

That he’s it — nothing, no one, will ever take that place.

(There is a word for that, right there on your tongue, but you keep your hand clamped tight onto your mouth.)

There is a word on his, too, except Levi says it:

Your name.

Your real name, smooth as chamomile.

“Come for me.” Right against your ear. "Come," he repeats.

A woman possessed, your climax crashes on command. You arch your back clear off the wall, sobbing into your own hand as you ride out your orgasm. He works you through it with a string of praises, a handful of curses, kissing the back of your hand affectionately where he imagines your lips must be.

And he keeps going until you’re frantically pushing his hand away.

Sensitive.

Way too sensitive for him to keep going a third time.

Levi pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you feeling empty yet satisfied.

It’s embarrassing to see his two fingers coated with your wetness, but your eyes blow wide when he puts them to his mouth and licks.

First his index finger, then his middle, until he pushes his digits into his mouth and swirls his tongue around them.

Levi hums like you taste better than any smuggled tea he craves.

You realize what word came to mind, the one suppressed under your palm.

You can't say it.

Not today.

author's note: this wasn't in the original plan but you all have been so wonderful and patient and encouraging that i felt like some spice for the weekend was well-deserved. ❤️

tag list: @lazylizzy3 @notgoodforlife @sad-darksoul @dailydoseof-love @maliakealoha @nube55 @kateastrophies @blinkingsuns @gomigami @voidszoro @tanyeonn @chishiyasan @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @vigilancio @nomi98

#to quote steve harrington’s famous words: im stealthy like a ninja #*starts screaming*#listen id quote more lines but this would have gotten way too long 😅#chefs kiss 🤌#*#*ff #levi ackerman x reader

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extremelybabygirl · 4 days ago

Text

you might be angry with me, but I don't believe that you hate me.

saint knows shin too well. he sees right through him. shin can't hate him even if he tries. he WANTS to hate him but deep down he doesn't.

he HATES that he LOVES him.

#and that's how you do angst #just chef's kiss 🤌✨#saintshin #skynani #hsf #high school frenemy #highschool frenemy #highschoolfrenemy

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jetii · 3 months ago

Text

this one hurt so bad but it was so good 😭😭

two absolute crosshair bangers back to back??? you're killing me

Guilty Pleasure

Word Count: 2.8k Pairing: post finale Crosshair x fem jedi!reader, past references to techxreader (tech girlies beware this one might hurt) Warnings: well its post finale, so some sad tech talk. angst and a lil fluff and bad proof reading Summary: Even with everything over and everyone back on Pabu, you and Crosshair still hadn't discussed a few things. Him hunting you, his feelings for you, or Tech. It was time. Some literal guilty pleasure.

You’d been separated from Clone Force 99 for months before your paths crossed again and Crosshair was long gone.

Initially, you attributed Crosshair’s continued attempts on your life to the influence of the inhibitor chip. But when Crosshair admitted that his chip was removed, your anger was uncontrollable—echoing the fury you felt on Kaller, the day he turned against you.

Your rage faded when you accidentally stumbled upon an old trunk filled with his gear. Buried under his armor was a small bundle of fabric. His privacy meant little at that point so you plucked it out and undid the bundle.

Inside, you found a tiny tube made from woven straw—a playful gift you had once hidden in his pack as a lighthearted jest about his constant need for toothpicks. The memory of him discovering it on a mission, his irritation palpable as he scolded you for invading his space, flashed through your mind.

Seeing this keepsake tucked away amongst his most personal items confused you.

Turning the fabric over in your hand you recognized it as material from your old Jedi robe. When you chose armor over cloth you chose to discard the last physical remains of your Jedi life.

Before you threw the robe away, however, you had playfully snipped off a hand-sized piece and tossed it into Crosshair’s lap, teasing him that it would be the closest he'd ever get to truly 'touching' a Jedi.

The only two things you’d ever given him and he’d kept them even after Kaller. You thought back to Crosshair before Kaller and some things looked different now.

His cutting remarks, always sharp and ready, his teasing, the intense way he often watched you—what you had once perceived as dismissive and aggravating, designed to unsettle you, now seemed to have been his attempt at playful banter. It was his own manner of expressing familiarity, albeit aggressively.

Hidden in the memories of butting heads, you dug up moments of subtle gentleness from the sniper. There were times he offered you a hand while navigating unsteady ground and carrying your pack - albeit biting about slowing the squad down.

There had been a time or two when you caught what could only be described as the ghost of a smile on Crosshair's lips—a hint that perhaps he found you attractive. Yet, his careful distance had always reassured you there was nothing more to it.

Now, looking at the items before you, doubts crept in. He had kept these tokens; he must have felt something for you, however slight. How had you failed to notice any signs?

When you heard footsteps on approach you made quick work of putting the trunk back together and in its place. It wasn’t until you saw Tech, checking your progress locating the tools, that a thought dawned on you.

Tech—the brother to whom Crosshair had been closest, the one he had always been perfectly in sync with. The one who looked at you like you were something to covet.

It all became very obvious. Of course, Crosshair would have been aware of Tech’s affection for you. Not much got past him, not with his sniper’s instinct for reading the subtleties of his surroundings.

To Crosshair, Tech’s natural ease around you would have been painfully clear. His loyalty towards his brother meant he would never do anything to undermine Tech’s happiness.

Yet, through it all he’d kept a piece of you for himself.

It made a funny feeling float through your chest. A mix of regret and gratitude.

Crosshair was an objective and loyal man. He put things above himself. His feelings, his wants, they didn’t matter to him compared to his duties.

Eventually, you found it impossible to hold any resentment towards him for his actions. It was simply who he was. Even his actions that felt so deeply personal were dictated by his role as a soldier of the Empire. His entire sense of purpose was defined by his commitment to his duties.

Yet he still tucked away, in a corner only he’d see, a part of you to himself.

Looking up at Tech, the man you so thoroughly adored, gratitude swelled in you. The least you could do was forgive and accept Crosshair for who he was. You decided to extend him the patience and love he didn’t allow himself.

In his absence, you’d honor that by keeping his brothers safe for him. As you followed Tech out of the Marauder, you silently vowed to never let anything happen to them again.

A vow you failed to keep.

With each trek across the galaxy in search of Omega, alongside Wrecker and Hunter, the weight of your unkept promise grew heavier. The first sign of relief came unexpectedly—a transmission from Omega, her voice crackling through the Marauder’s comms.

You were only a hair’s breadth behind Wrecker when you ran to Omega. You stood back as Wrecker twirled her around, watched her run to Hunter, and allowed them the space of a family.

A familiar sensation hummed over your shoulder. A feeling you hadn’t felt since…

You swung around and standing in the light of the ship was Crosshair.

Weeks went by and reconnecting with Crosshair was more difficult than you anticipated. You’d both changed and the space left by Tech constantly hung between you.

Crosshair needed the same time and space he’d once afforded you. You wouldn’t push him, but that didn’t stop you from poking him. He was more compliant than when you first met and time on Pabu with Omega only made him more so.

When Omega told you about meditating with Crosshair, you knew you had to make the most of the opportunity.

On the back side of the island, there was a natural pool that became a frequent haunt of yours for meditation.

Floating in the waters, eyes shut and head relaxing on a rock, you’d been waiting and ready with your senses extended. Of all the brothers, Crosshair was the one who kept no pretenses about going unnoticed. He knew well that if he could spot someone watching him from a klick away, a former Jedi like you would easily sense him without even sight.

“Omega said you wanted me.” Crosshair’s voice cut through the quiet.

You twisted in the water, pushing yourself to sit up. “Took you long enough.”

“You’re lucky I came.” He retorted, arms crossed and shifting his weight onto one hip. He surveyed you with a raised eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

As you sat up, the waterline dipped just enough to reveal that the cloth wrapping your chest was now transparent. You noted his sharp intake of breath before he clicked his tongue and looked away, a subtle blush on his cheeks.

You smiled and gestured to the empty pool beside you, “Join me.”

His lip curled into his nose, “Why?” You didn’t deign him with a response, instead remaining with your hand outstretched.

Crosshair sighed and moved to sit on the rocks bordering the water. You splashed a bit of water at him. “Ah-ah! I meant join me in the water, Crosshair.”

His eyes narrowed on you, but after a moment of grumbling, he began to strip off his clothes. The moment the skin of his abdomen came into view, you averted your eyes, suddenly realizing you weren’t as prepared for this you thought.

Crosshair finally stepped into the water, his movements slow. He stood there for a moment, seemingly contemplating his next move, as the water lapped quietly around him.

You reached out and tugged on one of his fingers, coaxing him deeper into the water. “Sit back,” He let you guide, but he was stiff as stone, sitting rigidly against the rocks.

You sat adjacent to him, giving him ample space to relax if he so chose.

Despite the serene environment, Crosshair remained tense, his gaze fixed on the water in front of him, his thoughts miles away. Leaning through the water, you gripped his calf and pulled it over your lap. The sudden motion caused him to slip slightly; his hands scrambled through the water, seeking stability.

Now forcibly reclined, he pursed his lips but withheld whatever comment he had simmering. You met his resistance with a raised eyebrow and a light pinch, “Stay with me. Now, lay back.”

He blinked a few times, but again he complied. His head was resting against a stone behind him, his body from the chest down beneath the water line. You began to massage his calves. As you worked he spoke., “Why did you call me here?” His eyes were on the sky, deliberately avoiding yours.

“They say water’s supposed to be good for healing.” You mused, watching him carefully. For once, your roles were reversed. You took in everything about him while he sat back, trying to shut you out.

“And who, exactly, is ‘they’?”

“Old, dead Jedi,” you replied with a light scoff, but the humor faded quickly. Your gaze dropped to your hands, momentarily still on Crosshair’s leg. You had referenced the Jedi Purge so casually, yet between you and Crosshair, it was anything but lighthearted.

“Crosshair-”

“I’m sorry.” He interrupted, his eyes finally meeting yours. For hunting you.

Your stomach twisted at the sight of him. His head tilted to the side, eyebrows pulled together, lips pressed tightly. He looked defeated, ashamed, devastated. “I—”

You lurched forward, placing a hand over his mouth. Crosshair’s eyes darted between your touch and your face. You couldn’t think too much about touching because thinking of how close you were was distracting in and of itself.

“Don’t,” you said, your voice wavering. Your hand then slipped to cradle his chin, your head shaking gently. “You don’t need to say that. I know who you are, Crosshair.” His eyes widened in surprise, and when you started to pull your hand away, he quickly grasped your wrist, holding onto the contact.

Despite the emotion swelling in your chest, your voice was steady. “Whatever happened, whatever you’ve done - it’s not changed how much I care about you.” You held his eyes, hoping to reach the dark parts of him he clung to. Leaning closer you swept a thumb over his cheek. “So let me be here for you.”

The next breath he took wasn’t shaky, but smooth and sure. He closed his eyes and, on exhale, opened them looking a little lighter. Crosshair gave a small nod, softer than you ever thought possible.

Giving his face a gentle squeeze, you smiled, removed your hand, and sat back. Sitting back, your chest lifted above the water again. Crosshair’s eyes dipped for a moment before looking skyward again and drifting shut once more.

Your hands drifted back to his calves still laying across your lap. The flutter of his eyes and the little hitch in his breath didn’t escape your attention. It made your fingers dig in harder.

“Seeing you in your old armor has been nice.”

He only grunted in response.

You fidgeted for a moment, but casually probed, “Was everything in your trunk the way you’d left it?”

“I’m wearing it all, aren't I?”

You lowered your voice, saying “I wasn’t talking about your armor.” The sniper tensed under your touch. “Cross.” You watched him, eyes averted, swallow.

A muscle feathered in his jaw, “You looked through my trunk.”

You made no attempt to hide it. “I did. You kept a few things of mine.”

“I did.” He matched your limited honesty.

“Why?”

Crosshair’s lips tightened into a wry smile and his head fell to the side to face you. “Why don’t you take a guess?”

You blinked absently, a thoughtful frown tugging at you. You weren’t sure if this was a line he wanted you to cross. Or if you wanted to for that matter. Leaving it up to him you said, “You tell me.”

Crosshair stared at you for a few beats, looking between your eyes, but pushed up in the water as opposed to divulging anything. Drawing his legs off of yours, he stood in the water and silently climbed his way out of the pool.

He was shutting down and shutting you out.

Panicking, you stood to go after him, pleading. “Crosshair, stop.” Stretching out from the pool you managed to clip a finger. “Please. I’m sorry, I-”

Crosshair yanked his hand from yours, his fingers curling into fists. Keeping his back to you, Crosshair tilted his head like he was considering looking back. He was struggling and the panic of having broached the subject at all sunk into you.

Finally, his feet shifted and turned to face you again. His knuckles went white and he broke the silence, “You were… the first time Tech cared about someone other than our squad. I saw how he looked at you.”

Tech’s name stole the air from you. You’d not said it out loud in so long and this wasn’t the way you wanted to.

Crosshair didn’t give you a choice, he crouched to your level and continued, “But he wasn’t the only one who saw you.” He let out a low breath, like he was free of a weight he’d held for so long.

An odd flutter rattled through you. Perched there in front of you, Crosshair was every bit the sharpshooter you’d first met. Seeing right through you and something in his eyes. Something you were never able to place before now.

It was want. He wanted you.

The thought stilled you. He still wanted you.

Crosshair dropped his head, whispering in a pained voice, “And I couldn’t - I won’t-”

You couldn’t listen to another word, so you broke your own heart, you said, “Tech wouldn’t want you living like that.”

Crosshair’s head snapped up and he was just as shocked as you were. Shocked at you admitting a very hard truth.

You opened your mouth to say something, but couldn’t find a single syllable to say. Didn’t know if you even could if you did. Before you lost your nerve, you pushed yourself from the waters and looped your arms around Crosshair’s neck.

Crosshair remained firm against the weight of you, his arms hesitantly reciprocating your embrace. The two of you sat like that for some time, soaking wet and holding each other with only your breathing to the silence.

Clearing his throat, Crosshair gently untangled you. He pushed you back just enough to see your face.

His eyes fell to your lips and when he met your eyes again there was something heavy in him. There had always been something unspoken between you and it now sat like a hot coal between you.

Your lips parted and caught his attention again. He swallowed and slowly brought his lips to yours, pausing one last time before pressing into you. Your response was immediate, deepening the kiss the moment your lips met. His hands were quick to settle on your waist, holding you against him and matching your fervor.

You didn’t want to feel everything at once. You just wanted to be lost in the feel of Crosshair and forget the rest.

His hunger for you, buried for so long. flared to the surface. You felt and tasted better than he’d imagined. And he had imagined you often.

The burst of repressed fantasies caught Crosshair off guard enough that he broke the kiss. You were left panting and slightly dazed. Crosshair searched your flushed face for any sign of regret, but instead he found you doing the same to him.

This time you were the one to close the gap, gently pressing your lips together again. The kiss was softer and more intimate, allowing you to savor the feel of his lips. It had been a long time since you’d touched someone like this.

He tasted bittersweet.

Eventually you broke apart and both lowered to the ground. Crosshair hung his head back, sighed and a small smile lifted the corner of his lips. Leaning back on his good hand, Crosshair lifted a brow. “Was this your plan all along?”

You watched him for a moment, was he really joking right now?

Scoffing, you ran your fingers through your hair. “No.” Scooting over to Crosshair, you put a hand on his knee. With a genuine tone, you added “But thank you for coming out. And for-.”

Crosshair snorted, interrupting you. “That’s enough of that for now.” Rolling onto his back and looking to the sky once more. Closing his eyes, he murmured sarcastically, “Healing waters, huh?”

“Something like that.”

taglist: @baddest-batchers @bruh-myguy-what @jetii

#crosshair x reader #fic rec #the way you write crosshair is just #chefs kiss 🤌

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