#this is truly the best fic idea it needs to be written at some point | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

keigosdear · 5 months ago

Text

{bad idea... right? - kuroo t.}

yes I know that he’s my ex, but can’t two people reconnect?//…I just tripped and fell into his bed.

kuroo x fem!reader smut. exes to lovers. 18+ MDNI please.

in which you and your ex "reconnect" after almost half a year apart, but with so many unresolved feelings, it'll either end up being the best or worst idea you've ever had.

warnings: fem!reader, no physical description (aside from specific genitalia ofc). university setting. smut, mentions of alcohol/getting drunk but no drunk sex, lots of feelings/kinda mutual pining. praise kink, a little bit of voice kink, very brief jealous reader, cunnilingus, body worship, teasing, lots of pet names in lieu of y/n, soft dom!kuroo and sub!reader, very. very. soft, kinda emotional sex, aftercare and fluff towards the end. porn with a bit of plot/build up. this fic is my baby.

a trope I never thought I'd write plus a genre I've never written before? apparently so. it's my first time writing smut, so constructive criticism is welcomed, being rude is not. can you believe I started this over the summer ‘23 and I'm only posting it now?

and lmk if I need to add anything else to the warnings :)

divider credit to: @/cafekitsune

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this truly had the potential to be one of your worst ideas yet.

you weren't even going to be at this damn party to begin with, but your friend finally convinced you to go with her after a week of wearing you down.

"it'll be fun, c'mon!" she begged.

the only reason you didn't want to go was because you were finally done with your first semester of classes and wanted to wind down in peace, not at a crowded house party filled with loud music and sweaty drunk university students.

but of course you relented when she pulled out the puppy dog eyes and played the "but we haven't hung out in months, I miss you!" card.

so there you were by the snacks and refreshments table, dressed up and nursing a drink, talking and laughing with your friends. truthfully, you were having a better time than you thought you would and figured that you had almost a month before classes started back up again to relax.

"soooo? has anyone caught your eye yet?" multiple faces focused their attention on you.

you knew part of the reason your friend had insisted on you going with her was to help you meet someone. she'd never admit it, but it was pretty obvious with the way she was pointing out people left and right, making note of how attractive they were. at one point she had even "accidentally" pushed you into one of her targets, which had made for some very awkward small-talk on your end with someone you had zero interest in and some giggling from her.

it's not that you were opposed to the idea of finding someone, but in all honesty, no one had caught your eye. recently you had gotten out of a long long term relationship, and starting over after that just seemed so... unappealing to you.

it also seemed unfair to start anything new when you were very much not over him. breaking up in the middle of the semester had made it really easy for you to push down any emotions and throw yourself into your studies. but it didn't change the fact that you missed him. even now, the party acted as a good distraction for you.

or so you thought.

you were about to respond when your phone buzzed. you looked down and your heart leapt into your throat when you saw the contact name.

it felt strange seeing it as "kuroo" rather than some version of his given name or a pet name. once you hit the one minute mark of just staring at the text notification in shock, your friend peeked over your shoulder and gasped a little.

"you didn't block him?!"

you snatched your phone out of her hand after she stole it to show your group of friends.

"why would I? it's not like we hate each other."

and it was true- you both ended amicably (though very reluctantly). you only ever wanted the best for each other, and while it was sad, you realized that at this point in your lives with how busy you both were, you weren't able to offer that anymore.

you’d rather this than end things resenting each other.

still, it was a hard pill to swallow, so for now you were just holding it on your tongue, letting the bitter taste of the coating settle instead.

she frowned. "well yeah, but-"

you cut her off before she could bring up the very emotions you were ignoring in that moment and shoved your phone back in your pocket. "c'mon, let's go dance!"

later, though, when you excused yourself to the bathroom, the first thing you did was down your second drink and read the text.

hey.

do you want to come over?

you stared at the messages for another minute, reading and re-reading them over and over again before sighing. being with him for years meant you knew him like the back of your hand, and he wasn't one for casual hook ups or one night stands. you hadn't even heard from him in a few months- this was the first bit of contact you'd had with him since you cleaned out your drawer of clothes at his place.

which meant he was either drunk and missing you or someone was playing a prank and you'd just end up a fool.

seriously weighing the options in front of you, trying not to let your emotions overpower your decision making, you attempted to think about the long term consequences of going over.

no matter how you spun it, it sounded like a bad idea. even if he did send the texts, there was no guarantee he wanted anything out of it.

but you were too tipsy for logic at that point in the night, and if you were being honest with yourself, you were in need of some excitement.

yeah.

I'll send my new address.

wait, he moved?

despite being together for so long, the two of you never ended up living together, opting for dorms and student houses with friends. still, you did spend a lot of time at his old place, and before the breakup you had even talked about the possibility of moving in together after the current school year was done.

you didn't linger on the sour feelings that brought up and instead decided to let your friends know you were leaving. when they asked where you were going, you spun some lie about not feeling well and wanting to head home before you got worse. you didn't really care if they believed you or not.

checking the address he had sent you once more, you made your way out of the house and were pleasantly surprised to realize it wasn't that far of a walk, especially since you were wearing uncomfortable party shoes.

you sipped on the bottle of water you swiped form the refreshment table and tried to sober up a bit more before seeing him. you weren't a hundred percent sure what would happen once you got there, but it was a good idea to be prepared for anything.

eventually you made it up to his apartment, which was in another student housing building off campus, bigger than his old place, and took a moment to compose yourself.

there was still time to turn back and make an excuse for why you bailed.

there was still time to think it through.

there was still time to save yourself from the possibility of more pain.

you took a deep breath and knocked on the door anyway.

not even five seconds later, the door was opening and you were face to face with your ex boyfriend.

you took him in for the first time in months- really took him in. sure, you'd seen his instagram posts since breaking up, but you could only zoom in so far on those. and fine, maybe your friends had tried to set you up with people they had deemed "much hotter", but you never saw the appeal. you couldn't even remember any of their faces in that moment, because kuroo was right there.

his hair was the same as always, slightly messier than usual, exactly how it looked whenever he (or you) would run his hands through it on a particularly stressful day.

had he been stressed about the text? did he regret it?

he was dressed somewhat casually, in a dark red shirt you recognized as part of a birthday gift you gave him one year (you had always liked the colour red on him). he was wearing black sweatpants and his socks were mismatched.

everything about him was familiar, and you hated the way a feeling of ease settled over you when he finished his own analysis of you and gave a boyish, almost giddy grin. "hi."

his voice was warm and gave you butterflies. there was an undertone of excitement in his greeting and it quelled your worries about him regretting the texts.

you decided to smile back, though somewhat shyly (which you inwardly scolded yourself for), and spoke up. "hi."

he didn't let the silence that followed settle into awkwardness. he opened the door a bit wider, and welcomed you in. ever the gentleman, he took your coat and and helped you balance as you took your shoes off. you tried to ignore how warm and gentle his touch was, how it made you immediately crave more.

you made your way into the living room and took everything in. there were empty cans and shot glasses littered across the room, mostly concentrated on the coffee table. you thought you heard him swear under his breath when he looked at the mess as well.

"did you have a party?" you asked, now close enough to smell a bit of alcohol on him.

he shook his head and looked a bit embarrassed. "ah, no..." he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and sighed. "my roommates went out with some friends tonight and decided to pre-game here. I went back to my room before they left because I didn't feel like drinking too much and assumed they'd clean up a bit..."

you nodded in understanding. "wishful thinking, huh?"

he chuckled. "yeah, guess so," he said, then gestured to an empty spot on the couch. "sit, I'll just get some of this out of the way quickly."

"oh, I can help-" you tried to offer but he waved you off.

"don't worry about it. I'm the one who invited you into a sloppy apartment, you shouldn't have to clean up a mess that isn't yours."

you snorted and watched as he shoved a ton of cans into the decorative waste bin by the sofa and took some glasses to the sink in the kitchen. "says the one who's cleaning up a mess that isn't his."

you heard him laugh at your words and the butterflies erupted in your stomach again. you hadn't realized how much you missed that sound. suddenly your mind wandered back to the reason behind his invitation. you'd be alone tonight?

once he returned from the kitchen and sat down next to you, you talked for a bit. he caught you up on the moving situation (him and a few friends found an opening for the second semester, so they decided to jump on it and try to stay until grad, hopefully. he made a joke about trying to make friends with the landlord). you listened closely, trying not to make it obvious you were hanging off his every word.

when he was done, you caught him up on your life and how you were at a party when he texted. he apologized for interrupting and you told him a little too fast not to be, which he seemed pleased with.

after a while, he asked if you wanted to watch a movie. you agreed, though you were starting to get impatient. you knew he wasn't the type of guy to ever expect anything from anyone, but the curiosity was eating you alive. you couldn't help but finally ask him about it halfway through the movie.

"hey... why did you invite me tonight?"

he didn't seem surprised by your question, which told you he was probably expecting it. (it was silly of you to think he couldn't tell when something was on your mind after years together and only months apart.)

he took a deep breath in and looked down at his lap. while he didn't look outwardly nervous, you knew him well enough to know what his tells were. he picked at a thread on his pants, trying to compose himself before dropping the bomb.

"because I missed you." he looked you in the eye and then continued. "a lot. and you can take that however you'd like. I'll let you decide."

you blinked at him. he'd let you decide? the way he said it implied that he missed you, missed you. not just missed having you in his life, not just as a friend- he missed you.

you would be nothing but a liar if you said you hadn't missed him too. and you knew that the feeling of security and familiarity you experienced earlier wasn't just nostalgia or your own unresolved feelings. if that were the case, you wouldn't be feeling this comfortable on the couch with him. you wouldn't be able to pretend things were normal between you as easily as you had been all night.

kuroo still very much felt like home, and you didn't want to let him go ever again. there was only one way for you to take his declaration.

"can I..." you looked into his eyes and tried not to drown in them. "can I kiss you?"

he looked relieved at your words and eagerly nodded. "please."

you leaned forward and feverishly crashed your lips against his as soon as the word left his mouth. he raised one hand to cup your cheek and pulled you closer to him by your thigh with the other, not once breaking away from you.

soon you were straddling his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck, quiet noises releasing into the air around you both. you moved a hand up the back of his neck, into his hair, and he groaned slightly into your mouth.

you giggled into the kiss, happy to see you still knew what got him going.

as if either of you could forget- it was muscle memory at that point. just like you'd never forget how to ride a bike, you'd never forget how to make the other feel good.

eventually you both had to pull away and fill your lungs again, but you were close enough that your foreheads touched and your breaths mixed.

it was quiet aside from some light panting, so you decided to break that silence with a confession of your own. "I missed you too, tetsurou. so much."

now, you weren't sure if it was what you said or how you said it, but as soon as the words left your mouth, you felt something hard pressing against the area between your legs and gasped a little.

your eyes opened and you pulled your face away just enough to look at him properly. your eyes met his and his face was tinged pink. "I- I'm sorry... we don't... if you don't want to..." he mumbled, not sure how to gage your reaction to this sudden development.

you kissed him again, softer this time to reassure him, and smiled a bit when you pulled away. "I want to, tetsu."

he let out a relieved sigh and smiled at you in turn, then glanced over at the door. "I have no idea when they'll be back... do you want to continue this in my room?" his eyes slowly and hopefully made their way back to yours.

you nodded and squealed a bit when he suddenly scooped you up in his arms, smile growing wider as he made his way to his bedroom.

and that’s how you got here- cutting to when he gently sets you down on the bed, and you scoot back a bit to lay down comfortably. quickly following, his body covers yours and he begins kissing you again.

your arms instinctively move, one wrapping around his broad shoulders, the other cupping his cheek as you move your lips against his. his own hands, now free due to the fact that he’s propped up on one of his forearms, caress your waist and the the top of your head respectively.

after a few minutes of him focusing on your lips, he starts making his way down your neck. they’re feather light kisses at first to make you giggle, but eventually he finds the sensitive spot he always loved to mark up and the sweet sounds turn into shallow, shuddery breaths.

you whine as soon as he starts sucking on it and you bring your hand up from his cheek to his hair. "mmn... tetsu..."

he pulls away just enough so that you can still feel his lips against your flesh as he trails them up your neck to hover just over your ear. "you have no idea," he breathes out, voice low and far more erotic than you think he intended, "how much I've missed this."

you shudder and turn your face away at the tingly sensation, but the hand on your waist darts up to tilt your chin back in his direction. one thing you always appreciated about kuroo was how tenderly he handled you, no matter the tone of your late night endeavors. he was always gentle with you- not in a way that made you feel fragile, but rather in a way that told you he truly cared for you, treasured you, adored you.

the idea that this is still the case turns you on even more and makes your brain go a bit fuzzy.

when your eyes met his once more, you could see that adoration pooling in them. “look at me, sweetheart.”

you nodd slightly in his firm, yet still very soft grasp and keep your eyes trained on his. you could feel yourself getting wet as they trail over your face, and you swear your entire body feels warm as he gives you a rare type of smile only reserved for times like these.

he leans in to kiss you again and his hand moves from your face to toy with the lower hem of your dress. “you look absolutely gorgeous in this, baby, but do you think can we take it off?” he’s still speaking in the low, sultry tone that always drives you wild- you’re certain that you’d do anything he asked of you with that voice.

you sit up a little and move to unzip the dress, but he takes your hands and gives you a look. “ah ah- let me, pretty girl, you don’t have to move a muscle.”

it’s almost jarring how easily you both fall back into it. as soon as your dress is off, his shirt follows and he’s back to hovering over you. it really feels as though no time has passed since your last time with him.

just more proof that this is right.

he wastes no time in ridding you of your bra and himself of his shirt before pushing you back down onto the bed.

the room is once again filled with sounds of soft moans and gasps as he kisses your chest and takes one of your nipples into his mouth. he alternates between swirling his tongue around it and sucking. kuroo didn’t let your other breast go unattended for long, though, as he begins teasing the hardened bud with his fingers.

“aah, tetsu… please…” you gasped out.

the man on top of you chuckles, and in between switching sides he looks at you from under his eyelashes. “still so sensitive, hm? it’s cute.”

you resist the urge to hide your face and instead opt for throwing your head back when he suddenly sucks on the other nipple.

heat continues to build inside of you until he eventually he trails his kisses down the valley of your breasts, across your ribcage and down to your tummy. he spends a little extra time there, and you have to gently tug on his hair and whine about him taking too long for him to break away from your skin.

“let me worship you, angel. missed your body so much.” his voice is barely audible, the words murmured as though he was in a trance. you feel your pussy clench around nothing at his confession and bite back a whimper.

his lips curl upwards while pressed against your stomach and his eyes flicker up to meet yours. “keep your eyes on me, baby. don’t ever want to be away from you again,” he commands.

he rests his chin on your pubic bone and traces the elastic band of your panties with two familiar fingers. “you wore my favourite.”

heat rushes to your face and you do turn away this time, but he makes a disapproving noise you’re all too familiar with. “sweetheart, what did I just tell you?”

you bite your lip and force your eyes back to his.

he rewards you with a tender kiss to your belly and a “there’s a good girl, knew she was in there…” before he pulls your panties off.

you grow nervous, though you know you don’t need to be with him, and close your legs. his eyes soften significantly at the action. you're not sure why exactly the nerves get to you now of all times, especially considering how much you like his stricter side, but they do and he sees it.

he drops the strict act and rubs reassuring circles to your inner thigh. you've always preferred your softer sessions, anyway. “hey, it’s alright. I’m gonna take good care of you… missed my girl so much, just want to make you feel good, okay? we’ll save that for another time. it’s just you and me now, baby.”

you nod and a wave of calm washes over you at the reassurance. you let him pry your legs apart and gasp as he dives in.

he starts with wet kisses working their way up your thighs, to your slit and then up to your clit before he takes the bud into his mouth and sucks on it. you let out a soft moan and buck your hips into his face.

"mmn," he pulls away for a second and holds your hips down. "don't thrash, princess, just let me do all the work."

and he does. once he really gets into the groove of eating you out, you're a mess on his bed- legs shaking over his shoulders, cunt clenching around his tongue and whimpering out little thank you's when he makes you cum for the first time that night.

but he doesn't stop there. "tastes so good, baby, need more," he says in between licking your juices from your folds. "c’mon, just one more. you can do it," he picks up the pace again, and before you know it you're begging for more, too.

"tetsu- ah~!" you moan when he exchanges licking for sucking on your still sensitive clit again. you feel like you're on fire as he draws you closer and closer to reaching your second high.

you tangle your hands in his hair and he groans, sending vibrations throughout your core. you cry out and arch off the bed, spilling into his mouth.

this time when he pulls away, he slithers back up your body and kisses you. "see how good you taste, baby? best in the world, haven't I always told you that?"

your stomach twists from the praise and you turn your head to the side bashfully, trying to stabilize your breathing. he holds himself up above you and strokes your cheek with his knuckles, watching you fondly. it does nothing but make you more dizzy with affection.

when you've calmed down enough, he whispers "do you still want to-"

"yes." you cut him off and he chuckles.

"okay baby," he crawls off of you and reaches for his nightstand. he opens the drawer and-

your stomach sinks when you see an open box of condoms. the thought of him being with other girls makes you feel green with envy which you suppose isn’t fair considering you’ve been broken up for months, but you’re still a little fuzzy and too high on your own emotions right now to care.

he looks between you and the box and immediately catches on when an unexpected tear falls from your eye.

“oh, baby no-“ he takes one from the box and quickly returns to your side. “I haven’t been using these,” he cups your face and strokes his thumb under your eye.

“you haven’t?” you sniffle and he shakes his head right away.

you pout. “but then-”

kuroo cuts you off with a roll of his eyes. “one of my roommates got them for me as a joke for my birthday. I only opened them because he kept asking to borrow them.”

you digest his words and slowly look up at him. he’s already looking at you and you can’t keep your eyes from watering some more. the thought of him being intimate with someone new when you’ve spent the past few months rejecting everyone your friends forced your way.

“I haven’t even looked at anyone else since we broke up,” he murmurs against your hairline. “missed you too much.”

you nod, finding no traces of dishonesty on his features. “I haven’t been with anyone either… I wasn’t over you. I didn’t want to be,” you admit, voice soft.

he smiles and presses kisses from your scalp down to your cheeks. “such a sweet girl I have, hm? how about you help me out here?”

he tugs off his sweats and your attention is drawn to the tent his boxers. you bite your lip and reach for the band but he takes your hand and places the condom on your palm.

you blink up at him, confused. “you don’t want me to-“

he shakes his head and tugs his boxers down. his cock springs free and you gasp a little at the sight of his tip- red and smeared with pre-cum.

“no, angel, I need to be inside of you. just help me put it on.”

you make quick work of tearing the wrapper off and rolling the condom over his length. he groans at the feeling of your knuckles grazing his skin, but as soon as you pull away he’s flipping you on your back and lining himself up against your entrance.

he knocks his forehead against yours. “ready, baby?”

you nod and wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer. he leans down for a kiss and slowly pushes into you as your lips connect.

you whine a little at the stretch and he pauses everything. “you’re okay,” he reassures you, giving you time to adjust.

you nod when you feel ready for him to keep going and he bottoms out with a strangled moan. “you’re unreal, you know that?”

his praise pulls a giggle from your throat but it quickly turns into a breathy sigh when he starts moving.

he starts off slow, but soon enough you’re both lost in the moment and his pace picks up. within the next few minutes, his room is filled with sounds of pleasure and sweet words exchanged between lovers.

“you’re perfect,” he says, angling his lips closer to your ear. his hips stutter when you clamp around him at his words.

his thrusts reach deep enough to get you crying out for him. “tetsu, faster! please!”

“ah- there’s a good girl, love hearing you beg for more.” he nibbles the spot just below your ear, soothing it with his tongue.

“I love you,” you whimper, nails digging into his shoulders.

kuroo groans at the sensation and goes a bit harder. “you needed this just as bad as I did, hm? it’s okay, I’ve got you now, pretty girl. just relax.”

you hide your face in his neck and try to stifle your moans, but he doesn’t appreciate that one bit. “stop that, let me hear you,” he commands and you immediately pull your head back.

he grins down at you and kisses your nose. “sound so pretty when you’re falling apart on my cock, you know better than to hide those noises from me.”

you nod and find yourself unable to look away from his face, as if you were in a trance. he’s absolutely gorgeous on top of you- why would you want to look away?

“you close, baby?” he asks after your walls tighten even more.

“mmhm,” you whimper and lean up for a kiss.

“me too,” he whispers and tugs one of your hands away from his shoulder. he intertwines your fingers and presses is above your head against the pillow. “needed this just as badly as I did, hm? it’s okay, I’ve got you, baby.”

doing so good for me.

you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.

you feel so fucking good, princess.

all of his praise sent shockwaves throughout your body and soon enough you’re tipping over the edge. your back is arched, head thrown back and a loud cry of his name is drawn from you as you cum for the second time.

he follows soon after and you feel his whole body shudder when he spills into his condom.

your breaths mix together as you both come down from your highs. it’s quiet for a few moments before he carefully pulls out and disposes of the soiled contraceptive in the trash next to his bed. he rolls back into bed, facing you.

he strokes your cheek with his knuckles and smiles at you when you open your eyes and turn to face him as well. “hi pretty girl, you okay?”

you take a deep breath and curl into his chest. you still feel slightly too light and any thoughts not related to him are muddled. you’re overcome with an intense wave of affection for him.

he must notice, because when you manage to peek up at him again, he snorts. “yeah, I don’t know what I was expecting.”

he knows better than to try and leave the bed right away (memories of you whining and clinging to him when he did attempt it early on in your relationship flash through his mind and he smiles), so instead he wraps his arms around you and presses kisses to your hairline.

you savour the familiar feeling of being wrapped in his arms and nuzzle into his bare chest. the most comfortable feeling in the world.

eventually he does get up to grab a damp cloth and some water, and he informs you that you can use his bathroom for whatever you need.

you’re both following the same routine you had when you were together as if you hadn’t broken up at all.

now that you’ve regained some clarity, you start to worry about what exactly that means.

you’ve both admitted to missing each other like crazy, but you assume you’ll need to have a serious conversation with kuroo about whether or not you should get back together.

you ponder over this on his bed for a bit longer before he interrupts your thoughts. “we don’t have to talk about it right now,” he starts. “we can talk about it tomorrow morning if you would prefer, but…”

he pauses like he’s not sure if he should continue. you nod encouragingly, curious as to where this is going (thought you think you know). “but I meant absolutely everything I said tonight. um, before and while we were… uh. busy.”

you giggle a little at his shy demeanour before considering the weight of his words. “we could talk about it tomorrow morning, but I think we both already know what we want from this right?”

he doesn’t need to nod, but he does anyway. “I definitely have an answer already.”

you knock your forehead against his. “so… are we officially back together then?”

he offers you the widest grin he’s thrown your way all night. “I think we are, sweetheart. We’ll make it work this time, I promise.”

“I promise,” you repeat.

the rest of the night is spent cuddling under covers, sharing kisses and secrets you’ve missed out on sharing these past few months.

“I love you,” you say, before you finally drift off for the night.

you don’t hear him, but he’s quick to return the sentiment. “I love you too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BONUS:

the following morning, you wake up to your phone ringing. you groan when you see it’s your friend and realize you never texted her back last night to tell her you’re okay.

you look over at kuroo, still sound asleep beside you, and answer as quietly as possible. “hello?”

“oh thank goodness you’re alright, why weren’t you picking up? we all called you a million times!”

you check and see a ton of missed calls from more of your friends who saw you leave the party last night. “I’m sorry, I was asleep,” you say sincerely, only twisting the truth a little bit.

you feel slightly bad about it, you mentally promise her to tell her everything later.

before she can respond, your boyfriend sits up (when did he even wake up?) and says into the phone, “sorry, it’s my fault. but I promise I took good care of her,” he smirks at you.

you flinch when she shrieks into your ear. “YOU WERE WITH KUROO?!”

glaring at him, he snickers and takes the phone from you. “she’ll call you back later, we’re still catching up.”

“no, wait-“ he hangs up the phone and tosses it onto his sheets.

you pout at him. “tetsu, c’mon.”

he kisses your cheek. “I really didn’t meant for it to come off as rude, I swear. I just wanted a relaxing morning with you before you have to leave.”

you sigh and fall back into the soft comfort of his pillows. “it’s okay,” you say. “I really didn’t feel like giving her the rundown first thing in the morning, anyway. you really tired me out last night,” you peer up at him.

he laughs. “oh really? we’ve gotta build up your stamina again, pretty girl. I wasn’t lying-“ he crawls over and hovers a few inches above you. “we still have a lot of catching up to do.”

you mentally pat yourself on the back for answering his texts. definitely not your worst idea.

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I swear I’ll get better at writing smut, folks 🫡

but for my first time writing it, I don’t think it’s horrible. if the ending feels a bit rushed, it’s because I’ve literally had this sitting in my drafts since miss olivia rodrigo released the music video for this song last august and I wanted it out 🙃.

tagging @nyctophilicroses bc I remember you commented on the original post I made asking abt exes to lovers with kuroo 🥹

#kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo smut #kuroo x reader smut #kuroo tetsurou x reader smut #haikyuu smut #hq smut #haikyuu x reader

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navybrat817 · 2 years ago

Note

Bucky needs to be smothered in kisses. No sex has to follow, just him allowing you to pepper kisses all over his cute face simply for being him and for looking so pretty and cute. Like, "Shut up, Bucky and take it" - proceeded by dozens of kisses 💋💋💋

Bucky deserves all the kisses! How about a little something for our tattoo artist?

What Dreams Are Made Of

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x Baker!Female Reader Summary: You're on Bucky's mind before your date. Word Count: Over 1.5k Warnings: Ki-ssing, Fluff, slight insecurity if you squint, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). Graphics talent and thanks: Banner - @sgt-seabass, Divider - @firefly-graphics, Bucky edit - Nix, Moodboard - yours truly A/N: My second Connect 4 (C4007 - Square 1) / Into an Alternate Juneiverse for @buckybarnesevents! Set in my Sin on Skin AU, but can be read as a standalone.❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky flopped down on the break room couch with a tired smile. He had a hard time sleeping the night before and wanted a little rest before his first client of the day arrived. It didn't surprise him when he struggled to sleep. He could sometimes be a night owl when he wasn't dealing with the occasional nightmare, but last night was different. You consumed his thoughts after he went home.

Every single one of them.

You thinking of me, Sugar? I hope you are.

Hell, you hadn’t left his mind since he first walked into your shop. His beautiful, sweet baker with the warm smile and humor to brighten his day. You looked too pure to be with someone who looked like him. He wasn't blind to the stares he received whenever he went out. With his physique and exposed skin littered with ink, many wrote him off as dangerous without a second thought. They would’ve been shocked to learn he was a bit of a science nerd who loved to read in his spare time or that he served his country alongside his best friend.

Something told him you’d appreciate all those little details about him, especially since you asked him out.

"Wish I was taking you out now, Sugar," he whispered to himself as he shut his eyes.

Bucky didn’t want to admit to himself that he was a little nervous. From his chats with you, he gathered enough of an idea on where it would be good to take you for your first date. He didn’t want it to be generic though. If he couldn’t make it unique, it at least had to be special. Something you’d remember. You deserve the best.

And he wanted to show you he was nothing like your prick of an ex.

"Hey."

The sound of your voice beside him made his eyes open, his heart racing as you smiled. He hadn’t even heard your footsteps. When he tried to sit up, you pushed him to lay back down. The sugary scent that lingered on your skin from the shop had him licking his lips as you moved on top of him. But instead of your normal work clothes and apron, you wore a sundress.

One that was dangerously riding up your hips as you straddled him.

And he was too in awe to stop you.

“How did you get back here?” he whispered, not at all upset that you managed to sneak into the room.

“Steve let me in,” you whispered back, framing his face. He couldn’t decide where to place his hands. He wanted them all over you. “I had a break and couldn’t wait to see you.”

“You saw me last night,” he smirked as you leaned down, your lips dangerously close to his. “Not that I’m complaining.”

While the guys heard all about you and expected to meet you at some point, no one thought you would rush into the shop the way you had. You didn’t know it yet, but they all had a soft spot for you because of Bucky. Even if they didn’t, not a single one of them would’ve put up with how your dick of an ex spoke to you. Respect meant everything in their establishment and any man who talked down to someone the way he had with you had no right to be there.

The fucker made you cry, but I wiped that smug look off his face just for you.

“Too long to wait,” you smiled, your breath skimming his mouth. It paralyzed him as he waited to see what you would do next. “And I know our date isn’t until Friday, but I want to kiss you now.”

“Why do you wanna kiss me?” he smiled because yours was contagious.

“Because I want to thank you.”

“You don’t need to,” he promised. He’d stick up for you no matter what the situation called for. Call him smitten or a decent guy, that was just how he was.

“I want to. I also want to kiss you because you’re pretty. And, yes, you are pretty because I say so,” you teased, which earned an almost bashful smile from him. He was far from pretty, but any sort of compliment from you meant the world. “But mainly because you’re a good man and deserve a kiss.”

“Just a kiss?” he asked as he did his best to keep his hips still. You didn’t just deserve the best date, but you deserve a gentleman as well. Fuck, did he want you though and the things he wanted to do to you were far from innocent. He wondered if you felt through his jeans just how much he did.

“Just a kiss. For now,” you said, closing the gap between the two of you.

There was no hunger or desperation when your tongue slipped past his lips. Even when he deepend the kiss, you didn’t rush. It was soft and tender, but held the promise of something more just like your first kiss had. He wasn’t just a moth drawn to your flame. He carried the fuel and wanted to douse you in it.

Bucky craved to be the one who brought your fire to the surface until it consumed you both.

“Am I dreaming?” he exhaled, finally gripping your hips when you dragged your lips along his face. The featherlight motions were enough to drive him mad, tempting him to flip you over so he could explore your body properly. No, he needed to let you stay in control for now. “Sugar, you’re killing me.”

“And what a way to go, Hottie. So, shut up and take my kisses,” you giggled.

He chuckled as you smothered him with your lips and he took the opportunity to hold you closer. It felt right to have you in his arms. He couldn’t recall the last time he fell for someone so quickly, if ever. What if that scared you?

What if he scared you?

“It’s time to wake up, Bucky,” you whispered in his ear. “I’ll see you soon.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed as you faded from his arms. “Sugar?” he asked. Where did you go?

“Buck, you need to get up!”

Steve’s shout startled Bucky awake and it was a miracle he didn’t fall off the couch. His heart pounded before he realized he had been dreaming. You weren’t in the back room with him. You hadn’t smothered him with gentle kisses.

He was all alone.

“What the fuck?” he whispered, tossling his hair as he sat up.

Figures. It was just a dream, but I’m glad I had it.

“You okay?” Steve asked as he carefully approached his friend. “Hey, I wasn’t trying to scare you. Called your name a couple of times and that didn’t do the trick. Didn’t think I should touch you either.”

“I’m fine. Thanks,” Bucky huffed a little. Both of them had their share of nightmares after being overseas. Steve wouldn’t have yelled his name if he thought something was wrong, so he must’ve appeared peaceful enough. Peace. That was what you gave him, even if his jeans felt a little tighther and uncomfortable.

“You need a minute?” the blonde smirked when Bucky adjusted a bit.

“Why did you wake me?” he replied, avoiding his question. The guys knew well enough how crazy he was about you and didn’t need to know he was dreaming about you in the shop. “I’m sure it was extremely important.”

“Because your client should be here in a few minutes and I wanted to make sure you didn’t sleep through the appointment. So, yeah, extremely important.”

With a nod, Bucky slowly got to his feet. “Space is already cleaned and disinfected. Stencil’s done, too,” he said. He liked to prepare as much as he could and they prided themselves on having a clean and safe workspace. “Um, Sugar hasn’t stopped by, has she?”

Steve shook his head. “No, she hasn’t,” he answered, giving Bucky a small smile when he frowned. He knew all about the date. “But Friday is just around the corner if you don’t see her before then.”

He tried not to feel disappointment and swore he could still smell the sugary scent of you in the air. It must’ve lingered on the couch from when you were there the night before. He wished he could have that smell on his pillows and sheets. “I like her.”

“I know you do. We all do,” Steve said, leaning against the wall. “We even told Hal he wasn’t allowed to go into the bakery out of fear that she’d fall for his charm,” he added with a wink.

I’m charming, too.

“No, punk,” he said, not wanting to be more vulnerable than he already had. “I really like her.”

The playful look on Steve’s face fell, replaced with something softer. “I know, jerk. And I think she really likes you, too. So be the good guy we know you are and sweep her off her feet.”

That’s exactly what Bucky planned to do.

Bucky, our hearts are yours! Check out more of Hottie and Sugar wiht Sweet and Strong. Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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floralcyanidee · 1 year ago

Text

ᴛʀɪᴘʟᴇ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ

Bruce Wayne x Reader x Jonathan Crane (NSFW)

When you notice Dr. Jonathan Crane watching you and your husband at a fundraising party, you get a little curious. When Dr. Crane angers you, he presses you to explore that anger. Will he regret it?

warnings: smut, nipple play, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (both vaginal and anal), oral sex, cock warming, anal sex, anal fingering, blowjobs, dirty talk, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, porn without much plot, masturbation, forced masturbation, threesome, male x male, male x female, male x male x female, cum swallowing, spitting, face sitting, face fucking, crying, sub/dom tones, dom!reader, sub!jonathan, kinda sub!bruce but not really, ya know, just pure filth

word count: 5254

author’s note: welcome to our one-way ticket to hell besties <3 I didn't proofread this because it just poured out of me and I was truly possessed by the writing demon today. I had an idea and literally ran with it. I don't think I've ever written something so filthy before lol please enjoy and give feedback!! READ THE WARNINGS this fic isn't for everyone tbh.

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

MOODBOARD FOR THIS FIC

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

One thing about being married to the Bruce Wayne was he had a thing for throwing parties and fundraisers at your mansion. This meant you had to dress up quite a bit, and you had to look really good as you were Bruce’s wife, of course. He always ensured you had the newest and most gorgeous gowns to show off at the gatherings. You’d spend the whole day getting your hair, makeup, and nails done, only to be at the parties for a few hours. And that was usually because Bruce had other duties in the city, he got too distracted by what you were wearing and needed you right then, or he simply let his antisocial side creep up on him. Tonight at the fundraiser he’s throwing, he seems content and has been by your side most of the night. Nothing drastic was going on in the city that demanded his action. But something was bothering him, you could tell. He’s slightly off, and you catch him staring at someone in the crowd a few times. You’re never able to pick them out, though.

You and Bruce are by the champagne table, and you notice Bruce is gazing out into the crowd of partygoers again.

“Bruce?” you ask softly, putting a hand on his bicep, “You alright?”

Bruce blinks hard a few times before turning to you, “I’m fine, darling.”

“You sure? You seem distracted by something this evening,” you scan the room, but to no avail for whomever Bruce is focused on.

“I just thought I recognized someone,” Bruce says, sipping his drink.

“Hmm. Alright, then.”

“Have I told you that you look beautiful tonight?” Bruce smiles, letting a hand slide across the small of your back.

“Only about a thousand times,” you giggle, leaning into your husband.

You happen to look up, and that’s when you see him staring at the two of you. Dr. Jonathan Crane. He quickly averts his eyes away, but you have already caught him.

“Is it Dr. Crane that you recognize?” you ask Bruce, motioning to where he’s standing with some other rich psychologists.

“Yeah,” Bruce exhales, shrugging, “I thought he had left the city a while ago.”

“After the asylum got turned loose? I figured so, too. Oh well,” you say, looking up at Bruce, “If he’s here, then he’s donating, so maybe it’s not so bad.”

“You have a point,” Bruce raises his eyebrows, “I’m still keeping an eye on him, though.”

You knew of a few of the villains Bruce has come in contact with, including Jonathan. He had almost killed your best friend and sent the whole city insane. Who knows what would have happened to Gotham if it weren't for Bruce. But a part of you is curious about Jonathan- a deep, intellectual part of you. Why is he still here? Is he still a doctor? Your brain becomes dizzy with all the questions. If Jonathan is here acting casually on his own accord, you could, too. You tear away from Bruce without a word, drink in hand. Bruce calls after you, panic surging through him when he realizes where you’re headed.

“Dr. Crane,” you smile upon arriving in front of him and another psychologist, “Wonderful to see you here.”

“Ah, Mrs. Wayne. I wouldn’t miss a marvelous party for a good cause. Have you met Dr. Robin here?” Jonathan smiles back, not missing a single beat.

“I have not,” you look over to the tall woman in front of Jonathan, clad in a pantsuit. You reach out a hand for her to shake, “Y/N Wayne.”

“I know who you are, Mrs. Wayne,” Dr. Robin says politely, her Australian accent strong, “Your dress is quite lovely, I must say.”

“Thank you,” you reply with a smile, willing her to leave so you could speak with Jonathan alone.

“Well, I’ll be off. Seems you two have something to discuss,” Dr. Robin announces her departure, much to your relief.

“It was nice meeting you,” you say sweetly as she walks away.

“You as well, Mrs. Wayne.”

You turn to Jonathan, who clears his throat as he looks you up and down. You’re nearly the same height as him, if not slightly taller, in your heels.

“It’s really brave of you to be here, Dr. Crane,” you turn your head to the side, giving him a closed-lip smile.

“Please, call me Jonathan,” Jonathan responds, “And what would you mean by that?”

You take a step closer to him, leaning into his ear, “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Jonathan. Or should I say, Mr. Scarecrow.”

Jonathan doesn’t flinch. In fact, he grins at you as he exhales a laugh, “Those days are behind me, I’m afraid.”

“Uh-huh,” you cross your arms, “And why should I believe you?”

Jonathan glances behind you to look at Bruce, who is on edge and watching the entire conversation to ensure nothing is tried. A muscle in Jonathan’s jaw twitches, “You don’t have to. But if I were up to no good, why would I be in the presence of the Batman and his lover? Quite unintelligent, wouldn’t you think?”

“And why are you here, exactly?”

“Trying to get myself back into the Gotham scene,” Jonathan looks at you matter-of-factly, “I’ve missed a lot being gone, you know.”

“Oh, I do know. And maybe you should’ve stayed gone,” you try not to snarl at him.

“Now, now, Mrs. Wayne. That is no way to speak to a donor,” Jonathan says, his voice dripping like honey with malice.

“You better be glad there are people around or-”

“Or what?” Jonathan asks, raising his eyebrows, a smirk itching at his lips.

“I’d fucking break you right here.”

“Sounds like a fun time. However, I’m not sure your husband would appreciate that in many, many ways.”

You scoff, “Don’t be crass. I’m not flirting with you. If I were, you’d know it.”

“There’s a fine line between desire and hatred, my dear,” Jonathan whispers in your ear, causing goosebumps to arise on your skin, “It’s a fun line to walk.”

Annoyance swells in your chest. You desperately wanted him to shut his bratty mouth. You also wanted to enjoy the rest of the party, but now that Jonathan had you riled up in anger, you wanted nothing more than to slam him against the wall and-

“Everything okay over here?” Bruce approaches suddenly, taking you by surprise.

“Everything is fine, sweetheart,” you place your hand on Bruce’s chest as a warning, “Nothing to worry about.”

“Dr. Crane isn’t bothering you, is he?” Bruce’s nostrils flare.

“Not at all,” you defend the doctor, “In fact, I’m probably annoying him.”

Bruce laughs humorlessly, “Oh, is that so?”

You cock your head at him, “Did you need something, dear?”

“Just want to speak with you privately,” Bruce says.

You go to say something, but Bruce interrupts you, “Both of you.”

If Jonathan is just as confused as you are, he doesn’t show it.

“Lead the way, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce walks briskly to one of the guest rooms down the hall from the ballroom, making sure no one is following or watching the three of you. He ushers you and Jonathan inside, following suit before closing the door behind him.

“You know,” Jonathan says, breaking the silence, “I never pegged Mrs. Wayne for the threatening type out of the two of you.”

You bite your tongue, and Bruce looks over at you.

“Say what you want to say. I brought the two of you in here so you could solve your conversation away from those nosy fuckers outside,” Bruce rolls his eyes, fixing his cuff links.

“We aren’t children, Bruce,” you scowl.

“Then act like it,” Bruce sasses back.

“I do not need two men on my bad side right now. Remember what happens when you’re on my bad side, Bruce?”

Bruce looks between you and Jonathan, a hint of nervousness in his eye, “Don’t bring him into this, darling.”

“No, no. I’m curious now,” Jonathan grins deviously, stepping closer to you, “What happens when someone is on your bad side, Mrs. Wayne?”

Now realizing how your words and threats may have sounded all night to Jonathan, you backpedal.

“Not what you think, Dr. Crane,” you cross your arms, taking a step back from the doctor.

“Oh really? So your antagonizing and threats don’t mean anything?”

“What do you think they mean?”

“As I said earlier, desire and hatred are very close to one another,” Jonathan says suavely, “And I honestly can’t tell which you feel toward me.”

You make a disgusted sound despite the growing need to pin this man down and give him what for. Not even sexually, but simply because you’re tired of him speaking. However, Jonathan wasn’t bad-looking by any means- and sometimes, you and Bruce liked to try new things. But you don’t think Bruce would want to fuck with a murderer and criminal, especially one he’s had close encounters within the city. Jonathan almost burned him alive once, so you aren’t sure about whatever he’s insinuating going very far with your husband.

“Hatred,” you spit, “It’s hatred. Plus,” you look over at Bruce, “I don’t think my lover would appreciate me having anything to do with you anyway.”

Jonathan snorts, his eyes flickering between you and your husband, “Are you so sure about that?”

You furrow your brow, laughing incredulously at him, “I’m certain.”

“I don’t know,” Bruce says suddenly, “I wouldn’t mind seeing the fucker squirm on your account, Y/N.”

You nearly gasped, suddenly very aware of the animosity you were aiming at Dr. Jonathan Crane, now becoming sexual in nature. Not that you meant for it to, but now that it was insinuated out loud by someone other than Jonathan, you pondered your true feelings. As you’ve said, Jonathan was a looker. If you weren’t married to Bruce and the man wasn’t psychotic, you wouldn’t mind taking him for a ride. But you are married, and he is psychotic.

Jonathan has his hands shoved in his pockets, a smirk on his face as he studies you, “You want this. Don’t deny it, Mrs. Wayne. I can tell by the look in your eyes.”

You purse your lips together, “What I want is for you to shut up and behave. All you do is act high and mighty when you’re nothing but a little rat.”

Bruce tries to hide his laugh by covering it with a cough, “I’ll let everyone know it’s time to leave. When I come back, you two better be taking care of things.”

You look at Bruce, who gives you a slight nod in approval to do as you wish before he steps out of the room. No one is in charge in the bedroom permanently between the two of you. The dominant role is shared or is back and forth, depending on the day. To your shock, Bruce gives you the complete reins in this situation. But Bruce knew how much you despised Dr. Crane for what he’s done, even if a part of you is desperately curious about him. Desperate enough to demean him sexually, even. You want to humiliate him. Make him cry and make him regret having even come here. You want him to think of you whenever he feels shame or embarrassment for the rest of his life.

“A little rat, huh?” Jonathan chuckles, undoing his cufflinks.

“Yes,” you blink, forcing him to walk backward to the bed as he struggles to remove his blazer.

You shove him roughly onto the bed, watching him bounce from the mattress with a look of disorientation. Jonathan eventually gets his blazer off, discarding it onto the floor. You can’t properly climb on the bed with your gown on, so you reach behind your back, undoing the clasps that hold the silver dress together. You kick off your glittery heels, letting the gown slip to the floor in a pile. Underneath your dress, you decided a black lingerie set would do nicely. You’re glad you picked well, considering such a doting man was now staring at you like you were a piece of meat and he was starving. You try to ignore the logical side of your brain telling you this man is dangerous and crazy. But the other side of your brain is telling you that his cock is definitely dangerous and crazy, too. And you wanted to find out for sure.

“Now,” you begin to crawl to where Jonathan wordlessly lays, watching you carefully, “Are you going to be good and keep your mouth shut, pretty boy?”

“No promises,” Jonathan flashes a toothy grin, and you angrily rip his button-up open, buttons flying everywhere across the room.

Jonathan’s mouth hangs open, “That was an expensive shirt.”

“Nothing you can’t replace,” you shrug, running your hands along Jonathan’s handsome chest before letting your nails graze his nipples.

Jonathan shudders at the feeling, and you remove your hands from him, sitting back on your heels, “Lay on the pillows.”

“Ma’am, yes ma’am,” Jonathan purrs, doing as told, surprisingly.

You hear the door open behind you, and you turn around quickly to see Bruce.

“Everyone is cleared out. Brought some fun stuff, too,” he places a box on the floor, kicking it to the end of the bed for you to grab it.

You lean down over the edge of the bed and retrieve the box, crawling on your knees to where Jonathan lies. You open the box and hum in satisfaction at Bruce’s choice of toys and trinkets. You fiddle with one toy, dragging your gaze to Jonathan with a wicked smile on your face. But before you reveal the toy, you snatch some rope out of the box.

“Now you have no choice but to be good, Dr. Crane,” you snicker, offering Bruce some of the rope to tie Jonathan’s left wrist to the bedpost with.

You tie Jonathan’s right wrist tight enough for him not to move too much but not enough to where blood flow is cut off. Jonathan tugs at the rope, looking at you and Bruce with a nervous yet exhilarating smile.

“I’m privileged to be living such a fantasy,” Jonathan sighs.

“You’ll be wishing you had never stepped foot in this house when she’s done with you,” Bruce smirks, unbuttoning his shirt cuffs and rolling his sleeves up.

“Ah,” Jonathan laughs.

Before he can comment any further, you shove a ball gag into his mouth, strapping it behind his head securely. A deep feeling of satisfaction to him finally being quiet fills you. But the joy of seeing such an evil man at your mercy is more intense.

“You better be glad I chose the ball gag instead of having Bruce have his way with that pretty mouth of yours, Crane,” you say, and Bruce shakes his head from where he stands beside the bed.

Drool begins seeping out of the sides of Jonathan’s mouth, and you can’t help but coo at the sight of his tightening pants and his reddening cheeks. You grab his face between your fingers, squishing his flesh. You hum in satisfaction before letting go of his face and focusing on his slacks. You all but tear his belt off his hips, hurrying to unbutton his pants before ripping them down his thighs. Bruce removes the pants the rest of the way as you climb onto Jonathan’s lap, your clothed core atop his throbbing, leaking bulge.

You kiss Jonathan’s jaw, leaving harsh bites along the column of his throat as you travel down, continuing your assault on the skin of his chest and torso. You reach the band of his underwear, which you tease with your hands, snapping the band against Jonathan’s skin. He tries his best to laugh from underneath the ball gag, spit sputtering from the gaps of his mouth. You slowly peel his underwear down his legs, watching as his hard cock slaps against his stomach. You let Bruce pull the underwear off completely, and he tosses it somewhere in the room to be found later. You lean down to lick the bead of precum off Jonathan's tip before pulling away completely, allowing Bruce the room to tie up the doctor’s ankles to the bottom bedposts. You stand at the foot of the bed, chuckling darkly as Jonathan struggles against the restraints.

“Not so powerful now, are you, Dr. Crane?” you laugh, knowing he didn’t like you calling him by his professional name, “You look so pathetic, lying there with your poor cock out for us to see. Bet you wish one of us would touch it for you, hmm?”

Jonathan stays silent, his eyes boring into yours as he yanks his arms, testing the rope’s strength. He realizes he truly can’t move or speak and that he’s entirely at you and Bruce’s mercy. Not the worst position to be in, Jonathan thinks.

“Which of us should do the honors?” you ask Bruce, a playful smile on your face.

It isn’t often Bruce gets to mess with the other man during your experimental sexual encounters. Still, you figure this is personal enough for him to want to be involved.

“You can take this one. I’ve got other plans,” Bruce says, smirking deviously.

“Oh really?” you grin, “I’m excited to see those.”

You climb back on the bed, moving toward Jonathan’s lap, where his weeping cock is getting redder by the second. Grabbing the base of it, you move it forward enough for it to meet your lips. You lap your tongue on Jonathan’s tip, smearing the precum around before licking a stripe up his entire length. You pull away, letting his cock slap painfully against his stomach again. You harshly grip Jonathan’s balls, causing him to cry out muffled. You massage them as you take his length into your mouth, bobbing your head as you continue to take him in entirely. You press your breasts into the bed, letting your ass be exposed for Bruce to take advantage of as you suck off Jonathan. Bruce wastes no time walking over to you, letting his hands run over your asscheeks before he pulls your pretty black underwear off. Bruce dips his head down to flatten his tongue against your wet slit, gathering your arousal as he swirls it around your cunt. You moan around Jonathan’s cock, causing him to twitch.

“God, I love this pussy,” Bruce pants against you, “Too bad you can’t get a taste, Crane.”

You peer your eyes up to Jonathan’s, his icy blue eyes now dark from his blown pupils. He’s glaring at Bruce, trying to regulate his breathing as his tip hits the back of your throat. Jonathan’s eyes roll into the back of his head as you fuck him with your mouth, letting his cock slam into your throat. Jonathan tries to thrust into your mouth, but you push his hips down against the mattress. You’re slobbering, and tears are streaming down your face as you take his length as much as you can, wanting him to get as close to cumming as possible. Bruce sucks your clit harshly, letting two fingers slip into your wet pussy. You groan, the vibrations sending Jonathan batty. You feel him getting close, and you blindly fumble around for the box of toys that still remains on the bed somewhere. You find it, pulling off Jonthan’s cock as it twitches uncontrollably. He growls as you find the toy you were looking for. You give Jonathan a few pumps, gripping his length as tight as you can, watching as the precum helplessly spills from him. Before Jonathan can react or cum, you slip a cock ring onto him, sliding it down to his base. He cries out from behind the ball gag, his chest heaving. You lay your head on his thigh, watching as his cock turns bright red. Bruce continues to eat you out, his teeth brushing against your clit occasionally, causing you to moan. Your breath hits Jonathan’s angry length, making him shiver. You look him in the eyes as Bruce adds a third finger, fucking into your g spot harshly as he bites at your bundle of nerves. You maintain eye contact with Jonathan as you cum, letting your nails dig into the soft flesh on his thighs.

“Lucky for me,” you trace Jonathan’s tip teasingly with your finger, catching your breath, “I get to cum as much as I want.”

Jonathan stares at you without making a sound, focusing on his breathing so he doesn’t explode into a fine mist from the overstimulation.

“Now it’s your turn since you’ve been a good boy,” you remove the ball gag from Jonathan’s mouth, licking up his spit from his lips before he can lick it off himself.

“Open your mouth,” you demand, and Jonathan does as told.

You gather his and your saliva in your mouth before spitting it onto his tongue.

“Now show me how good you are at eating pussy, Dr. Crane.”

You flip yourself around, hovering over Jonathan’s face as you slowly remove the cock ring. Bruce removes his button-up, laying down between Jonathan’s spread legs. Jonathan lets out a strangled cry at the feeling of Bruce’s hot mouth on his sensitive cock. You push your pulsing cunt onto Jonathan’s face, to which he happily starts lapping hungrily. You watch as Bruce hollows his cheeks around Jonathan, and the sight alone makes you even wetter than before.

“Fuck,” you mutter, Bruce’s eyes meeting yours.

You rock your hips against Jonathan’s tongue, urging him to continue. Jonathan wishes he could bury his fingers in your cunt, but he settles for his tongue instead. Twisting and pushing it inside you, he uses his nose to press against your clit, shaking his head. You grip Jonathan’s hair, cursing at the feeling of his tongue dragging in your walls and his nose flicking your bundle of nerves. You grasp your barely clothed breasts, letting your thumbs play with your nipples through the thin lace. Bruce moans around Jonathan while watching you, letting Jonathan fuck into his throat.

“Wanna cum, you piece of shit?” Bruce pulls off Jonathan, who gasps a ‘yes,’ “Be careful what you ask for,” Bruce chuckles.

You plan on milking the doctor for all he’s got all night. You want him spent and begging for mercy. Anything to make him miserable.

Bruce takes Jonathan back into his mouth, bobbing up and down quickly and stroking what he won’t take into his mouth. Bruce allows Jonathan to buck his hips into his face. Jonathan lets out a pitiful cry as he cums in your husband’s mouth, white-hot spurts of seed shooting down Bruce’s throat. You feel Jonathan roll your clit between his teeth before sucking it between his lips as he rides his high. You growl, letting your self-control go out the window. You chase your own high, letting Jonathan torture and tease your bundle of nerves with his tongue and teeth until you finally release in his mouth. Jonathan slurps and suckles every drop of your arousal from your cunt, licking until you pull off him.

“Lucky for you,” you pant, beginning to untie the rope bound to Jonathan’s wrists, “This next part requires your cooperation. Promise you’ll behave?”

“Yes, Mrs. Wayne,” Jonathan nods.

You let Bruce finish untying the doctor as you discard your bra. You instruct Jonathan to move to the side, allowing you to lie down in his place. You demand that Jonathan climb on top of you. he does as told, and Bruce roughly pushes Jonthan’s face into your chest. You laugh at Bruce’s typical roughness, especially when it makes Jonathan look flustered. His ass is now in the air, revealed to Bruce.

“Have you ever been fucked in the ass like a good boy?” you ask Jonathan, your fingers in his hair.

He doesn’t look at you or respond.

“I’m asking you a question, Jonathaaan,” you say threateningly, your fingers now gripping his hair harshly as you lift his head for him to look at you.

“No,” Jonathan says breathlessly.

“Well, that’s about to change,” you say, “Any regrets about being smart-mouthed to me yet, Dr. Crane?”

Jonathan glares at you, panting as Bruce spreads his ass apart, “Not yet.”

“Good,” you smile, letting his head drop abc to your chest, “Now obey me and show me how much you’re enjoying this.”

You move Jonathan’s face, maneuvering his mouth to your hardened and sensitive nipple. Bruce takes some lube from the box he brought, smearing it against his fingers before teasing Jonathan’s asshole with the tip of his index finger. Jonathan keens around you, his body beginning to shake as Bruce slowly pushes a finger inside him. Jonathan sucks harshly on your nipple, gasping as your husband wiggles his finger inside his tight ass. He laps at your bud, focusing on trying to please you and taking Bruce’s long finger simultaneously. A second finger is added, stretching Jonathan further. The doctor lets out a sharp groan at the delectable burn. He attacks your other breast, letting his finger circle around the one he was just attached to. Bruce prods a third finger into Jonathan, and he lurches forward from the feeling of fullness.

“If you think you’re full now, just wait for Bruce’s fat cock, baby boy,” you taunt.

Bruce twists and curls his fingers inside Jonathan, doing his best to prep him for his unforgiving length. When he pulls his hand away, Jonathan gasps from the sudden emptiness. Bruce spreads his ass apart again, his slacks and underwear now discarded as his hardened cock pressed against Joanthan’s gaping hole. Jonathan whimpers around your nipple, pausing momentarily as Bruce slides himself into Jonathan.

“Fuck,” Jonathan shudders.

“You can stop now. I need you elsewhere,” you pull Jonathan’s head off your breasts, sneaking your hand between the two of you to his newly hardened cock, stroking it in your hand in time for Bruce to bottom out.

Jonathan whines, collapsing on your torso as the air leaves him.

“Tapped out already?” you pout, sticking your bottom lip out at Jonathan when you lift his head by his hair again, “Too fucking bad.”

Bruce then pulls out of Jonathan almost all the way before slamming back into him, his tip brushing against Jonathan’s prostate. Jonathan screams as you guide his cock between your slick folds, his body overstimulated. You let Jonathan weakly push his length inside your soaking cunt, your walls enveloping him immediately. Bruce wraps an arm around Jonathan’s chest, anchoring himself to the doctor. His other hand grips Jonathan’s hip with intensity. The feeling of Bruce pounding into Jonathan’s tight little ass affects you directly as Jonathan pushes deeper inside you every time Bruce thrusts into him. Soon, a rhythm is established, and you’re nearly in tears from pleasure as you watch Jonathan become a withering, crying mess underneath Bruce.

“Doing so good taking Bruce’s huge cock,” you praise Jonathan, bucking your hips with his every time he involuntarily moves forward, “You could at least try a little harder to fuck me like you want to, though.”

Jonathan’s forehead is teeming with sweat as he struggles to actually thrust into you while Bruce fucks into his prostate. You give him the benefit of the doubt- the first time getting fucked in the ass is intense. So you rock and swivel your hips on Jonathan’s cock roughly, letting him reach up to grab your breasts for leverage. He pinches your nipples, twisting them hard, sending electricity to your cunt. You pulse around Jonathan’s length, causing him to grunt miserably. Bruce’s hips are slapping onto Jonathan’s asscheeks loudly, and Jonathan’s cock twitches pitifully inside you.

“Cum, sweet thing,” you coax Jonathan, whose hair has long since lost its gel hold and has begun flopping into his face, “Cum inside me.”

Jonathan starts fucking into you the best he can, tears streaming down his face as he cums, a hoarse scream leaving his throat. Bruce is still fucking him without mercy, and you let Jonathan’s soft cock remain inside you as he whimpers helplessly, his hands gripping your sides.

“That’s it,” you praise him gently, “Let Batman fuck you silly like you deserve.”

Jonathan peers up at you, giving you the dirtiest look he can muster as you cackle, Bruce grunting as he cums inside Jonthan’s ass and on his back.

“Christ,” Bruce sighs, pushing his hair from his face as he winces, pulling out of Jonathan’s quivering asshole.

Jonathan collapses on top of you in a mess of sweat, tears, and cum. You let him catch his breath before sliding out from under him.

“One last thing, sweetie,” you say, your tone sugary, “Sit up on the bed for us.”

Jonathan weakly pushes himself up, flipping onto his back and laying his head on the pillows.

“Touch yourself,” you demand, sitting on your knees at the end of the bed beside Bruce, “I want you to cum until you can’t cum anymore.”

Jonathan opens his mouth to protest, but you motion for him to shush, to which he tiredly gives in. You dip your hand to your slick clit, swiping at it as Jonathan strokes his sensitive cock for you. Bruce watches you and Jonathan touch yourselves, unable to really get himself up again. He instead sits behind you, playing with your tits and rubbing his large hands on your hot, sticky skin. Bruce relishes in watching Jonathan fall apart as he looks away in embarrassment.

“Keep your eyes on me, Crane,” Bruce’s voice booms, making Jonathan jump.

Jonathan gulps, reluctantly keeping eye contact with Bruce as he bucks into his hand, moaning hoarsely as he gets close. He can’t help but think about how he was between the two of you, getting fucked by you and Bruce at the same time. With that, cum shoots from his overused cock onto his stomach, and he cries out in embarrassment when you demand he get off again.

You stay like that, letting Bruce replace your hand as you spread your legs further open to allow him to fuck you with his fingers. You bounce on them, moaning quietly as Jonathan fights to keep his eyes open, his wrist flicking to the best of his ability. The night goes on, and Jonathan eventually taps out, sobbing almost uncontrollably as he runs out of cum. You and Bruce give him time alone before slowly moving him to the shower, where you help him wash off. You and your husband also washed yourselves off, assisting Jonathan out of the shower when you were all done. He’s wrapped in a towel, wincing as he walks back to the bed and curls up under the covers. You follow suit, wrapping your arms around Jonathan and soothing him as he finally falls asleep. Bruce holds you from behind, sighing contently.

“Too bad it takes doing this to humble a villain,” Bruce jokes.

“And the fact I could help was exciting,” you chuckle, “I never get to fight criminals like you do.”

“Maybe you should. You’ve got the mouth for it. Your sass is unmatched,” Bruce buries his nose in your hair.

“Mmm, I think I’m good,” you say, stroking Jonathan’s hair out of his face, “One villain is enough for me, I think.”

You and Bruce quietly watch the evil, despicable fucker sleep soundly.

“Can we keep him?” you ask Bruce, to which he tries not to burst out laughing.

“So you can torture him more? Absolutely.”

“Awesome.”

taglist:

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harmonysanreads · 2 months ago

Text

La Follia

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Yandere!Sylus x Reader

cw(s) : yandere, coercion, implied murder, implications of forced marriage, one mention of blood, guns, imbalanced power dynamics.

「 words : 800+ 」「 art credits 」

· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ This... is not the fic idea I said I had in my wips but somehow we ended up here anyway ^^;

Before signing any document, it is crucial to carefully read its contents.

Not this one though. Your spite digs its talons into the pen, glaring at the offending piece of paper its situated against. The strings of legal ruminations and dry wordplay are irrelevant, unnecessary and jeeringly useless before your present predicament. Your eyes would rather bleed than capture their meaning.

Vague phantoms taunt your periphery, specks of dust rising from litanies of codicies towards the flickering lightbulb make it impossible to forget your environment. The state of a government office ; a place to admonish rules and keep the reputation of the constitution flowing — he has no need to adhere to them.

Redundant cannot even hope to describe the absurdity of the situation, in fact, you think you're at a stage of mental stupefaction that no adjective can. Perhaps it would carry some semblance of logic had it been a toddler instead of a conscious adult conducting this ridiculous show.

A show, yes, yes — it is nothing but an impromptu drama. To dig and imbibe the fact into your and everyone else's heads, that the leader of Onychinus has the luxury, the power to carry out even the most nonsensical whims.

Why shouldn't it be possible? In a world dictated through strength, governed by the fittest and where history is written for posterity in hopes of conditioning them to sing the greatness of those who won, you suppose something like this isn't all that irrational.

Supposing now, all things considered, that none of this is illogical in the grand scheme of things. In fact, should the so-called strong decide that it is completely normal, acceptable even to hold a gun to another's head, push them to a stack of papers and shove a pen to finalize some joke of a matrimony — it would be deemed appropriate, because it is the one with the might who has thought so.

But what it wouldn't be, is fair ; another hapless notion that can be discarded easily with the universal knowledge that nothing ever is fair in this world.

You peer through your lashes to the unfortunate clerk that had the fortune of witnessing this hilarity. He tries his best to maintain a semblance of professionalism and fails effortlessly, if the way he toys with the silver-band around his ring finger is anything to go by. Your eyes shift to the picture frame kept with care at one corner of the desk, the innocent smiles of figures who you assume to be his family almost make your heart ache.

Marriage. Coveted, anticipated, so beautiful in its purest form yet the causation of so many miseries. You would've never thought it could be ridiculed to this degree before this day.

You don't need to look beside you to picture his amusement, fascinated at how the clerk appears as though he's seeing his every wrong doing and each moment of joy play out before his eyes despite it being you with a weapon pointed at your head.

There is no rationality behind the demand of marriage by a man who dwells in a land governed by the rule of no rules, no explanation as to why he saunters into this establishment and insists that it be finalized through legalese furthermore.

No, no, it is but to prove to your stubborn self — see and witness what I can do should I desire, I can adhere to law and trample upon it according to my whim. Will you still deny me, still deem me beneath you after this?

You will, if just to push his patience to its last hinges. You know very well this is all just a game to him. If Sylus truly desired to end your life, he wouldn't need a measly gun to do it.

You count the beats of time and construse your own schemes, searching for exits from this doomed playground and wander right into his trap.

“Can’t bring yourself to do it?” the purr is close, too close for your comfort. The tip of the pen shines as it tilts in response to your loosened clasp, sharp, you note ; pointed enough to pierce through an eye and dash away a few paces.

“Need some encouragement? Yes? No? Maybe so? You could've just said it instead of glaring at the poor paper.” the cold muzzle retracts from the side of your head but the heat of its presence remains.

The clerk's pupils are clear enough to reflect the panic that paints your face. The pen drops from your grasp, rolling across the papers and the worn out wood of the table ; gravity pulling it closer to the earth till it hits the tiled floor, splattering the crimson pooling around the surface.

The warmth of the hand that forced the weapon to your hand swiftly withdraws, your vision clears to the coldness of the gun in your clutch, the silence that follows the bullet's release nearly deafens your ears.

You hear the devil's whisper, “Now you and I are equal, no? As such, there should be no further excuses preventing you from marrying this monster.”

It would've been a taunt only some seconds ago, but now, it has become an irrefutable fact. No matter how cunning, how stubborn, the weak will always be controlled by the strong.

#ok sylus now get out of my head #sylus #love and deepspace sylus #l&ds sylus #yandere sylus #yandere sylus x reader #sylus x reader #sylus x you #yandere #yandere love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace x you

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egcdeath · 3 months ago

Text

out in the open

pairing: patrick zweig x f!reader

summary: your wedding night doesn’t go as smoothly as you expect it to. succession au - tomshiv adjacent (previous parts: part 1, part 2, part 3)

word count: 8.8k

warnings: failmarriage, fluff in the beginning, cheating, angst, jealousy, hurt/comfort, mentions of alcohol and smoking, suggestive content, insecurity, patrick is kinda the worst in this. he does get better though.

author’s note: full disclaimer things are pretty angsty and they only get angstier from here. cheating is a major plot point from this point forward. there will be a few happier moments but it’s mostly bad vibes and tension from this point on.

i say this with every fic i post in this universe but i truly could not have written this without the help of my succession anon!! weddingnightgate (WNG) is such a big moment in this au and they really helped me get my thoughts in order and helped me world build. i hope you all enjoy the upcoming pain!

When you were young, you always dreamed about your wedding. You fantasized about a huge venue somewhere halfway around the world that would easily fit all of your closest friends and family members and of celebrity guests who would give you well wishes for the marriage and smiled at you in spite of their envy at your beautiful event. You imagined a gorgeous, intricate dress with a train so long that you’d need assistance going down the aisle, a cake the size of your tallest guest, and a groom who was as handsome as he was loving, pressing the promise of True Love’s Kiss onto your lips after he read you his vows.

Maybe your enthusiasm for weddings was fueled by a few too many movies where the princess found her prince charming and lived happily ever after with him, but you still fell in love with the idea of love, and the thought that a wedding should be as beautiful as the love itself was.

You would never forget the first wedding you attended, despite being so young that you shouldn’t have really recalled it. You somehow managed to worm your way into being the flower girl at your aunt’s wedding, skipping excitedly down the aisle of the beachside venue, tossing flowers with reckless abandon. As you watched the rest of the ceremony from the safety of your mother’s hip, you couldn’t help but to imagine yourself being the one to walk down the aisle someday.

Much like your first wedding memory, you also couldn’t forget the first time you learned about divorce. Though you were young, the memory of your best friend crying next to you during recess as she sobbed out the news that her parents were splitting forever stuck out in your mind. You’d been fed the idea that love was strong and everlasting for so long, that the very notion that there were some things that love couldn’t withstand rocked you to your core.

From that point on, you became more grounded in your approach to love. Love was rarely a fairytale, and it was naive for you to assume that your future wedding would be one either.

As the years went by, you grew more realistic about your expectations for the future. You found a boyfriend who you dated throughout the latter half of your undergraduate years and through your time in business school, and fully expected to settle down with him—though you knew you’d be settling in the most literal sense. While he was a stable figure in your life, he was boring, and his aspirations in life for both you and himself didn’t align at all with what you saw yourself doing. He wanted a wife, and you wanted to make a name for yourself doing the work that was meaningful to you.

When he got down on one knee in front of you, you realized that you had two options in front of you: follow your own dreams or follow his.

Naivety be damned, you chose yourself and never looked back.

In your pursuit of making your non-love related aspirations come true, you abandoned all hope that your pipe-dream of a fantasy wedding would ever come to fruition. It occasionally felt like your hopes were incompatible—to be a successful businesswoman meant giving up all prospects of a romantic life. It seemed like everyone you encountered was put off by your lack of work-life balance, or wanted to hunt you for sport and turn you into a trophy wife.

You’d practically given up all hope by the time you met Patrick, fully expecting to be able to use him for a brief fling and a connection to get into his family’s company. What you weren’t expecting was to find someone whose company you genuinely enjoyed, who understood you on a level you hadn’t experienced with anyone else, and a love that occasionally left you wondering if you were a protagonist in the movies you loved watching as a girl.

If someone told you that years after meeting Patrick, that one day you would be gazing into his eyes with tears in yours as you listened to his vows, or telling him that you do take him to be your husband, to have and to hold, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, ‘till death did you two part.

Your wedding ceremony felt straight out of your girlish dreams, with Patrick’s beautiful family castle serving as the venue, paparazzi-worthy guests, a dress that felt like a direct product of your wildest imagination, and a groom that seemed to be as close to a prince charming as reality could get.

You were on cloud nine throughout the ceremony, basking in every single moment. You felt like you were floating by the time you got to the reception, your brain in the clouds as you and your now-husband cut your massive cake and gave toasts.

It was all a blur in the best way possible, your elation making what you thought might be an embarrassing moment of a first dance exciting, and the subsequent socializing with guests substantially more bearable.

What was slightly less bearable was the speed at which you were separated from your husband, the two of you occasionally catching the others eye from across the room, but otherwise being separated from surprisingly demanding guests who wanted to wish you luck on your marriage or excitedly share how amazing they found the ceremony to be.

Occasionally, you were able to squeeze in a brief moment with your spouse, bringing him a flute of champagne and momentarily pulling him away from an exceptionally chatty shareholder, but you seemed to be frequently whisked away from each other.

After what felt like a lifetime apart from each other, you felt the familiar, comforting warmth of Patrick’s hand on your lower back as he approached you from behind. When he announced to the extended family members standing across from you that he needed a moment alone with you, you almost leapt with joy. Nothing seemed more appealing than a private conversation with him after a long night of socializing with friends and colleagues.

It almost felt ironic that during an event that should’ve been focused on the two of you as a pair, you were separated and kept apart by people with business pitches and opposing interests, excited to hop onto whatever opportunity your union might bring them.

Patrick took you by surprise as he led you up the stairs and to your bedroom. It seemed a little early to begin your wedding night festivities, but if he was really that enthusiastic about it, you were certain that you could share some of his excitement.

“Thanks for getting us out of there,” you commented as you shut the door behind you. “So much for not talking about work at the wedding. I guess it’s too much to ask for one day to celebrate you being my husband before talking about the business again.”

You walked over to the vanity, preparing to touch up your makeup. You shot a glance over at your partner, who cautiously sat himself down on your bed, fidgeting with his hands as he did so. Not paying him any mind, you began to reapply your lipstick in the mirror and looked at his reflection, catching that he seemed to be in deep thought, but not thinking too much of it. It was probably something a shareholder told him. Maybe his sister was planning yet another attempt at a hostile takeover of the business.

“Husband. Wow, you’re my husband now. That feels so crazy to say. Husband, husband, husband,” you mused, a ball of excited energy. “Well, husband, what did you pull me in to talk about? Is it Sherry’s dress? It’s really hideous. I can’t believe she would wear something like that to our wedding,” you continued to ramble. “Or do you want a sneak peak of what I’ve got going on under this dress?”

You were shocked to find Patrick mostly unresponsive to your rapid words. He was never one to turn down the opportunity to gossip about his social circle or flirt with you. You pulled your attention away from yourself in the mirror and turned your head back to look at your husband, only to be met with a mostly unreadable expression, apart from the hint of a sad smile on his face.

Suddenly, things didn’t feel so fun. For some unexplained reason, you felt a small pit appear in the depths of your stomach. While you didn’t know exactly what was wrong, something obviously didn’t feel right. There was no reason for your partner to be looking as unsettled as he did on his own wedding night.

“You’re not having second thoughts already, are you?” you stood up and began to approach him from where he was sitting on the bed, making it more apparent to you that his brows were drawn together in what could only be the beginning of a frown.

“Of course not,” he assured you, though guilt was written all over his face. You weren’t sure how you should interpret your husband looking like a child who just broke an expensive vase on your wedding night, but whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. “But I need to tell you something.”

“What?” you laughed nervously, the small pit that appeared in your stomach growing into a slightly larger pit. As much as you wanted to dismiss it as nothing, the heavy tension hanging in the air warned you that the odds of his confession being nothing were growing slimmer and slimmer with each passing moment.

“Uh,” he paused as if he was considering his next words very carefully—almost as if he didn’t want to say them at all. You desperately wanted him to speak, rather than keep you hanging. With your nerves exponentially growing with every passing second, you began to feel like if he didn’t say anything soon, you might throw up all over your reception dress.

“Patrick, please spit it out. You’re kinda scaring me,” you could already feel yourself growing upset, despite the fact that he hadn’t said a single word to indicate what was going on with him. Your heart quickened in your chest as you anticipated his next words, despite not having a clue about what might come out of his mouth.

“We always said that if something happened, we could handle it like adults,” the statement was vague and simple, yet Patrick seemed to be choking it out. His cryptic message rattled around in your brain as you desperately searched for meaning in them. Before you could even begin to ask him what he meant, you registered the dismissive, callous language.

Though he didn’t say it often, he had confused you with those very words before—the verbiage alarmingly reminiscent of what he told you before your bachelorette party, or when you brought up the lack of an infidelity clause in his prenup.

If anything ever happened with anyone else, we could both handle it. We’re adults and we can handle things like adults.

Though his words were curious, you dismissed them at the time, never expecting that to be an issue. Of all of your problems with Patrick—his difficulty expressing his emotions, his complicated relationship with his family, his lack of experience in love—you never expected infidelity to be one of those problems.

You swallowed, your saliva feeling thick and poisonous as it slowly crept down your throat. “Honey, what do you mean?”

Patrick didn’t speak, looking down at the pristinely folded sheets in front of him rather than at you. “I’m sorry,” was all that he managed to get out.

You looked at Patrick blankly, waiting for him to tell you that whatever you were assuming wasn’t true or that he was pulling some sort of cruel prank on you. Instead, all you were met with was the sound of blood urgently rushing through your ears and the faint bassline of whatever song the DJ was playing at your reception.

“You know that love is complicated for me,” he looked in your direction, but couldn’t sustain eye contact with you. “Can we be adults about this?”

Once it became clear to you what exactly Patrick was trying to tell you, your knees gave out on you, the rest of your body overwhelmed with the unfathomable information that your brain was trying to process. Patrick cheated on you—and he was telling you just hours after you got married.

The truth of the situation sucked the air right out of your lungs and the strength right out of your body. Your knees buckled under you, and you desperately seeked out anything you could sit on. You settled on the foot of the bed, across from where your husband nervously sat.

“Fuck,” you dug the palms of your hands into your eyes, surely smudging the makeup on your eyelids as you attempted to collect your thoughts. “Who was it?”

“It didn’t mean anything to me,” he pathetically attempted to explain away. It all sounded like gibberish to you. For all you knew, your husband was speaking a totally different language to you.

Despite your question and Patrick’s non-answer, you somehow felt like you knew exactly who he’d been with. The answer was all over his discomfort when he saw you talking to the woman without him by your side, and the way she sized you up and attempted to psych you out of marrying Patrick not even 24 hours ago.

“Was it Tashi?” you asked, not even listening to his empty words and keeping your face frighteningly neutral. You spoke the words like you were playing a round of Guess Who, calm and even despite the budding feeling of dread in your stomach.

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to. His deafening silence was answer enough

“Can I kick her out?” you asked with an alarmingly stable tone, still mostly unable to process this information, but knowing that it wasn’t good.

“Yeah,” he replied quietly, head still hung and unable to make eye contact with you.

As you took in the truly depressing sight in front of you—your husband’s hunched over posture, a shame so strong that he couldn’t even look at you, and his clipped, short answers—you couldn’t deny that you were tempted to comfort him. In any other situation, if Patrick was feeling a fraction of the negative emotion he seemed to be feeling in that moment, you would instantly be at his side, holding his hand reassuringly or holding him close in a way that told him that if no one else was there for him, you would be, but you weren’t sure you could legitimize his bad behavior with such a response.

Instinctually, you reached out to touch him like you’d done a thousand times before, giving him a hug before a big event or spooning him after a family member said something that got under his skin, but you instantly reprimanded yourself. Despite how sad he looked, Patrick was the one who hurt you. You were the one who deserved comfort.

You opted to pat Patrick’s back instead, a strange and impersonal action. For a moment, you felt less like his wife and more like a practically estranged family member, not sure how to greet you after meeting you for the first time three Thanksgivings ago.

Your husband barely reacted to the stiff action, only looking at you wordlessly with glossed-over eyes. You got up from the foot of the bed and left wordlessly and neutrally, a robot whose only orders were to get out of the bedroom and shut the door behind you.

The moment the door closed, the next goal settled into your mind—you couldn’t let Tashi spend another second in the venue, socializing with your family and drinking the wine that your parents so kindly provided to the wedding, as if she hadn’t been partaking in an affair with your husband.

You felt half a bride and half a zombie as you left the confines of the bedroom and wandered the hallways. You were stone faced as you made your way back to the reception, trying to wrap your head and heart around devastating information that was shared with you at the most inopportune time possible.

You made a slow march down the stairs, movement hindered by your dress, and imagined what you might say to Tashi once you saw her. You should’ve known something was off from the start. You should’ve trusted the bad feeling you had when she sized you up at the bar, smirking at you like the cat who got the cream before feeding you anecdotes about how sleazy your husband used to be for no apparent reason. You should’ve trusted that feeling when Patrick rushed over to pull you away.

You wished you paid attention when Patrick faintly smelled of feminine perfume when you surprised him by coming back from a business trip earlier than anticipated, or when you noticed a bracelet that didn’t belong to you sitting on your coffee table, one that disappeared the very next day. It was so easy to write the signs off at the time–the fragrance of your personal chef and the jewelry of one of his sisters–but it no longer felt that simple. Patrick was a lot of things, but you never expected that a cheater was one of those things.

The thought of Patrick with someone else made you nauseous, especially in your own home. You faintly wondered if they’d fucked in your bed or on the couch. If the answer was yes to either, you desperately wanted to burn the pieces of furniture. In fact, that would be the first thing you set out to do when you returned home after your honeymoon. Maybe you would even beg Patrick to move to a new place, one not haunted by the memories of him and another woman.

That was, if your relationship even survived through the honeymoon. Let alone the night. You didn’t have a clue what your next steps would be. Would you be the fool who stays with a man who proved himself to be disloyal? Or would you be the fool who offered herself to the wrath of one of the most powerful families in the world? You would lose your husband, your job, and your livelihood in one fell swoop, surely being banished back to your family home in Minnesota, destined to be a receptionist at your father’s law firm for the rest of your life.

The entire situation felt surreal in the worst possible way. You couldn’t believe that while you were dealing with the aftermath of this information, Tashi was waltzing around at your reception. More than that, you couldn’t believe the information itself: Patrick cheated. Your fiancé cheated. Your husband cheated on you.

The same Patrick who became a groomzilla, laser-focused on giving you your dream wedding, cheated. The same man who confessed that he didn’t know what love felt like before he met you cheated on you. Your husband, who went out of his way to do anything to make you happy, even at the expense of his very powerful family, hadn’t been loyal to you.

None of it made sense. Maybe you would walk back into the room and your guests would jump out from behind tables and reveal that this was all a cruel joke—a little hazing as you officially became a Zweig—their laughter filling up the room at the thought that you would ever believe something as ridiculous as Patrick cheating on you.

You bit back bile as you walked into the room, the party continuing on the same way it had before you left and before you reentered—no prank to be found. The cacophony of loud music and the chatter of your guests filling your ears once more—what felt fun and exciting just moments before, now being far too overstimulating for someone trying to process information that could fundamentally alter the course of their relationship. You did your best to block out all of the extra noise and focus on your goal at hand.

Find Tashi. Send her home.

You weren’t sure what you would actually do when you saw her. Would you yell at her? Slap her for being a homewrecker? Cry at the sight of her? Laugh at the absurdity of your husband telling you that he’d been having an affair with her on your wedding night?

Peripherally, you heard someone call your name excitedly, only slightly pulling you out of your trance. Still, you couldn’t find it in you to acknowledge whatever excited friend or family member as your eyes set on your target. Tashi Duncan, Patrick’s coworker and ex-girlfriend.

Where you admired her beauty and confidence just a day before, you found you now resented every positive aspect about her. As she stood by a table and talked to one of Patrick’s sisters, surely bored out of her mind by the delusional ramblings about his sister someday being the president, she nodded and smiled diplomatically.

As you really began to think about it, you realized that she was the perfect candidate to be Patrick’s wife. She came from a background similar to his, his sisters liked her far more than they liked you—though that didn’t mean much—and physically, she seemed to be exactly your husband’s type.

Part of you wondered if she was feeling as miserable as you were; if she’d spent the day imagining your wedding to be her own, if her own jealousy was blinding her the way that yours currently was blinding you, or if she’d begged Patrick not to marry you during their work meeting the previous night. The other part of you wondered if she thought of you as pathetic as you currently felt—a stupid woman so blinded by her own love that she overlooked every beaming, bright red flag.

Your pace quickened as you walked towards Tashi, heels clicking annoyingly as they marked your pace. As you made your way to the table, you found yourself growing more anxious, the first real feeling you’d felt since Patrick shared with you the truth about his infidelity.

“Hey,” you greeted Tashi and Patrick’s sister, voice surprisingly even for how agitated you were. “Mind if I chat with Tashi?”

“Go ahead,” Cornelia shrugged. “Let’s stay in touch?” she asked Tashi, who politely agreed and watched the other woman walk off.

Tashi opened her mouth to speak to you, presumably to comment on something asinine about the wedding, or to make an observation about your wedding that you’d already heard a thousand times that night. If you weren’t so upset, you would make a bet with yourself on whether she’d tell you how beautiful the wedding was, or how beautiful you and your husband looked at the altar.

“Your housing for the night fell through,” you explained in a very level tone. It wasn’t the best excuse, but it was what came out of your mouth.

“Oh?” she asked, sounding more than a little skeptical, before lifting her drink to her lips. “Do you know where else I might be able to find lodging at this hour?”

“No,” you replied quickly and with ease. “Actually, it’d probably be best if you just went home now.”

“Home like…?” she trailed off and eyed you curiously.

“Like back to New York. I’m sure you can find a flight.”

She laughed in slight disbelief. “You realize this is a work function for me, right? I have work to do.”

“I’m sure you can do that work back home,” you dismissed, not backing down. By now, it was clear that Tashi was putting together the pieces of what you knew. In fact, you could pinpoint the exact moment when it occurred to her why the two of you were having this conversation in the first place.

Maybe it was the lack of your now-husband beside you, or the barely concealed emotion on your face. Regardless of what was your biggest tell on the situation, you continued to stare her down, resenting the way her lips shifted into a small smile, as if she still had the upper hand and knew something that you didn’t. It was almost as if she found the whole ordeal to be a little amusing, which only bothered you more.

“No need to make a scene at your wedding. I’ll be on my way.” She lifted her glass up once again to finish the drink off, but you stopped her.

You returned intense eye contact with her as you took the stemware right out of her hands and put it to your own lips, finishing the drink in a few large gulps. Though your action was impulsive, it felt like somewhat of a necessity. You desperately needed the liquid distraction from your less-than-ideal situation, and you didn’t want to give her an excuse to linger at your party a single moment longer than she needed to.

She continued to stare at you, her expression somewhere in the middle of being impressed and weirded out. “Alright then. Well, congratulations on the wedding.”

“Fuck off,” you spat out, turning on your heel and walking away without bothering to see if she stayed or left.

You made your rounds around the reception, smiling and talking to your guests with a fake smile plastered on your face. The shock of Patrick’s initial confession wore off shortly after you told Tashi off, but you still couldn’t help but feel completely numb to the situation. How else were you supposed to react when you found out the love of your life was sleeping with someone else?

You continued to man the reception on your own, occasionally scanning the room but not catching a glimpse of your husband. You wondered if he was still in your bedroom, head in his hands as he wondered if he just opened a Pandora’s box on your relationship, or if Tashi went to go find him to discuss how poorly you reacted to the information. For all you knew, the two of them could be laughing at you or having sex in your wedding bed at the same time that you attempted to pretend that everything was perfectly fine. You grew faint at the mere thought.

Eventually, you felt a familiar hand on the small of your back, something that typically was a welcome, comforting gesture. Instead, you wanted to flinch away from his hand like it was hot. You couldn’t believe that Patrick had the nerve to touch you like everything was fine after dropping such devastating information on you. Then again, at least he wasn’t hooking up with Tashi one last time.

Still, even under the spell of a sadness that hadn’t quite settled in yet, you leaned into his touch instinctively. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t feel as comfortable as it did a few hours ago.

“Such a beautiful ceremony,” a family friend of Patrick’s gushed to you. “You two have something really special.”

You felt Patrick’s eyes sear into you, desperately pleading for you to look back into them and show him that everything was going to be okay. That what you had was special enough that you’d be able to move past this. Like adults, as he said to you earlier.

You weren’t so sure that you could.

The rest of the night moved painfully slowly. Where the two of you socialized separately before his private conversation with you, he seemed to be attached to your hip now, bringing you apology offers of champagne flutes and hor d'oeuvres.

Though he pleaded with you to handle your situation like adults, you wanted to act more like a petulant child. If you had it your way, you would reject his offerings of food by tossing them onto the floor, or throw a glass of sticky alcohol in his face as if you were a Real Housewife.

If you had it your way, Patrick wouldn’t have cheated on you in the first place, and you’d be celebrating your wedding without the baggage of uncertainty for the future of your relationship.

As you walked through the reception, you weren’t particularly angry or sad, you just felt numb. There was a strange concession in knowing that what happened in the past already happened, and that there was no way for you to change your husband’s behavior. For a moment, you wondered if the numbness was a symptom of the shock that was Patrick’s confession, or you would feel the dull thud of nothingness for the rest of your life.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding as you watched the last of your guests filtered out of the venue, relieved to finally drop the façade of being a happy newlywed and to embrace the true feeling of shock that had been biting at you all night.

Somehow managing to break away from your suddenly very clingy spouse, you wasted no time gathering an unopened bottle of wine for yourself, along with a cigarette and a lighter, which you unceremoniously exchanged with a caterer for a Venmo payment. You then headed outside to a balcony that overlooked a beautiful sprawling garden.

You looked out on the neatly trimmed hedges and the bench where you sat with Patrick not even twenty-four hours ago and distantly thought about how perfectly the night should’ve gone. You got married at a beautiful venue, had every detail down to the positioning of napkins meticulously planned, and most importantly, were marrying someone you genuinely loved and couldn’t see yourself living without.

It was all rather devastating now, to see how just a few words managed to ruin what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life.

You took a swig from the bottle, lamenting the fact that his affair partner had been drinking this very wine earlier that night. At the thought of Tashi, you took yet another hefty swig.

Just as you reached for the lighter to light the cigarette you so desperately needed, Patrick burst through the doors of the balcony, slightly out of breath and sweat beading on his forehead. In between his heavy breaths, you swore you caught a sigh of relief.

You couldn’t say that you were pleased to see him—after all, you’d escaped to the balcony to get a little time alone and to think through the night—but as you took in his dramatic entrance and disheveled appearance, it became abundantly clear to you that he’d been urgently looking for you.

“Want some?” you asked, gesturing to the bottle. Your question was more than just an offer for a drink, but a peace treaty, offering Patrick to stay outside with you despite your more complicated feelings towards him.

“Sure,” he agreed, still slightly out of breath. He collected himself as you passed him the bottle, locking eyes with you as he took a swig from the expensive drink. It felt like time moved a little slower as you watched his lips wrap around the opening of the bottle and the way his Adam's apple bobbed while the drink went down.

You suddenly realized that complicated didn’t even begin to cover how you felt towards Patrick. You loved him more than anything, and you were sure that you needed him in your life—but beneath the thick layers of numbness was a reservoir of hurt, far deeper than you ever imagined you could harbor for the man.

He passed the bottle back to you, his hands gently brushing over yours. Momentarily, you felt scandalized by the action, unsure if you should feel your cheeks heating up from the small touch or if you should flinch away from it. By the time the brief moment was over, you hadn’t done either, electing to set your gaze back over the rail instead of at your partner.

Patrick stood silently beside you, not requesting anything more to drink or even attempting to make small talk. It seemed that he was just as aware as you were that he’d changed your entire dynamic with just a few words. You wondered if he realized just how much he’d fucked both of you by fucking someone else.

You shivered in the cold night, your dress not providing you much coverage in the elements. If your wedding night had gone any differently, Patrick would’ve offered you his suit jacket, draping the item over your shoulders and kissing you sweetly. Then again, if the night had gone differently, you likely wouldn’t be shivering on the balcony in the first place.

You squatted to set down the bottle on the ground and rediscovered the cigarette and lighter. Though you weren’t usually one to smoke, you desperately needed it after the shitshow that was your wedding night.

Though you put the stick to your lips, you struggled to light the cigarette, the frigid breeze making everything slightly more difficult. It didn’t help that you hadn’t smoked since you were a teenager, giggling with your friends as you clumsily attempted and failed to light up the stick, the match pinched between your fingertips quickly burning down. The contrast between the silly memory and your far less silly reality felt jarring, to say the least.

“Here, let me,” Patrick said softly, taking the lighter from you and cupping his hand around the tip of the cigarette. You tried not to look at him too closely as you listened to the soft clicking sound of the lighter. Though he should’ve focused on the action so he didn’t burn his finger tips or the palm of his hand blocking the wind, he didn’t seem to be able to look at anything but you. The light of the flame briefly illuminated both of your faces, momentarily giving you a better look at his sad eyes.

You inhaled as the flame touched the tip, and turned your head to exhale the smoke, not wanting to blow it in the face of your partner or have to spend another second under the scrutiny of his intense eye contact.

Even as you looked away and into the garden below, you could feel Patrick’s eyes burning into you. You were sure that if you looked back over at him, you would see him looking particularly downtrodden, lips parted for words that were on the tip of his tongue that he couldn’t quite say yet, and eyebrows drawn together in a way that only seemed to highlight the sadness in his eyes.

Unspoken questions lingered in the air like the smoke from the cigarette dangling from your lips. Though you didn’t care for the smell, you were pretty sure you preferred the smoke to the questions.

Finally, a quiet question was spoken into the air, “Can I?” Patrick asked, his eyes flitting from your eyes to your lips.

“Sure,” you replied noncommittally as you pulled the cigarette away from you and passed it to your husband. Electing to watch him instead of the unchanging garden, you observed as Patrick’s lips closed over the space where yours had just been, covering the hint of a lipstick stain that you’d left on it. After a long drag, he passed the cigarette back to you, his hand brushing softly over yours once more as you did so.

This pattern continued, a heavy silence falling between the two of you as you shared the cigarette, your hands caressing the other’s softly.

“Here,” you murmured as you approached the filter. Instead of passing it back to Patrick, you brought it up to his lips, watching him intently as he breathed in the smoke.

For a moment, all you could see was his face, illuminated by the burning end of the cigarette, pupils blown with something you couldn’t quite place. You weren’t sure if you wanted to ravish him right there on the balcony or push him off of it.

He blew the smoke right back into your face, electing to still share the last of the cigarette with you. You wondered if that meant anything. It probably didn’t.

The two of you stood looking at each other, staring wordlessly as you waited for the other person to move a muscle or say something—anything. For a moment, you considered telling Patrick that you wanted an annulment. But then again, that wasn’t exactly the truth.

“I’m going to bed,” you broke the silence with your announcement. “I need to change out of this dress.”

You wished it were that simple. You desperately wanted to scrub the day off of you and to pinch yourself until you woke up. Surely, this couldn’t be your actual wedding night. Maybe you could wake up in the morning and find that this was all a bad dream—the manifestation of anxiety before your big day.

But, as Patrick trailed behind you in the hallway as if you would disappear if you left his sight, you were pretty sure that this was the reality. You wouldn’t wake up and find that your husband had been loyal to you.

Your return to the room was a silent one. The moment you stepped foot through the door, it felt like you were back in that horrible moment; like Patrick was moments from revealing to you that Tashi was the tip of the iceberg.

Bile rose in your throat once more. You made a beeline to the bathroom, hoping that the change of scenery might halt your thoughts altogether.

You stepped out of the bathroom with an entirely different mindset than what you had as you entered. Sure, your wedding night wasn’t at all what you expected it to be, but it didn’t mean that you couldn’t put it back on the right track. In the bathroom, you slipped on a silky nightie, what you hoped would be a reminder to both of you that this wasn’t any old regular night, but your wedding night. Though, with the day you just had, you weren’t so sure that either of you would be up for a particularly romantic night. You guessed it couldn’t hurt.

You left the bathroom as a woman on a mission, your eyes set on Patrick as you crossed the bedroom floor to get to him. Though he’d been laying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling like it had the secrets to the universe written on it, the sound of your entrance drew his attention over to you. You gently bit your lower lip and hoped that your face said ‘sexy’ rather than ‘so nervous you might be sick.’

His eyes stayed locked on you as you crawled into bed, and you hoped once more that the action of you moving towards him on your hands and knees didn’t appear as desperate as you felt on the inside.

It felt like your evening consisted of one desperate plea after another: Please don’t do this to me. Please just pretend that everything’s fine. Please don’t leave me.

He followed your lead as you trailed your hand up his arm and looked at him as seductively as you could manage before pushing him down onto the bed and straddling his lap. Distantly, you wondered how Tashi imitated things with him—if she did anything that Patrick liked more about her than you. You did your best to push that thought away, but failed miserably.

Mechanically, you ran your hands through his hair and kissed him passionately. You tried to ignore the lump in your throat and reminded yourself that it was just Patrick. Things weren’t all that different, except for the fact that he was your husband now—and that he cheated on you.

You tried once more to push that thought out of your mind as you moved your hips against his lap, but your attempts were in vain. It certainly didn’t help that as you kissed him, you tasted the cigarette you shared earlier in his breath—an unwelcome reminder of the awkward tension that lingered between the two of you after he shared the truth about his infidelity. And surely, it was just your mind, but his lips almost tasted like the chapstick of another woman.

Suddenly, all you could think about was Tashi with your husband. Him and Tashi in your bedroom, or in a hotel room, or on your couch. Did she do anything special that drove him crazy? What did she have that you didn’t?

Your body said one thing, but your brain said something completely different. You did your best to power through the thoughts of your husband being with another woman, but you were beginning to realize that when it came to cheating, you weren’t all that tough. You bit down on Patrick’s lip in what you hoped would be a light nibble, but the taste of iron quickly filled your mouth.

You slowed down your movements as your thoughts sped up before you gave up entirely. You supposed it was a classic case of mind over matter, and your mind was not nearly as strong as any of your physical urges.

You shifted off of Patrick far later than you should’ve, feeling like a complete and utter failure. You couldn’t even do the one thing you should’ve been able to do during your wedding night. No wonder he found solace in someone else’s body.

“I’m sorry,” you said weakly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

It took you rolling off of Patrick to realize that his face was damp, eyes glossy with a thin layer of tears threatening to fall. The pit in your stomach that had been steadily growing since Patrick pulled you aside to tell you something finally came to a head when you realized that your husband was crying.

“Why are you sorry?” he asked, his voice cracking on the last syllable of his question.

A fresh tear rolled down his cheek, which was then followed by a few other droplets. He turned his head away from you and wiped them away quickly so you wouldn’t notice them, but the damage was already done.

You’d never seen Patrick cry before—not when you watched sad movies that left you bawling, not when the two of you watched advertisements for puppies in shelters, not even when he thought his dad might be dying. To see him shed tears over you felt particularly unsettling.

“Patrick?” you said his name softly, like he was delicate and going to break.

“I should be the one who’s sorry,” he looked towards you once more, eyes now rimmed with red. “I ruined everything already. I'm so sorry.”

This was a complete wild card on top of a stack of wild cards. If someone told you that your wedding night would end with your husband telling you he cheated on you, a pathetic failed attempt at sex, then watching your partner cry for the first time in front of you, you would’ve laughed in their face.

His crying continued, becoming slightly more intense as sorrow racked through his body. You’d never been in a situation like this before, so you were completely unsure of what to do.

With all prior restraint to show him physical affection gone, you awkwardly slotted your arms around your husband. He automatically leaned into you, burying his face in your shoulder as he continued to shed quiet tears. Your shoulder quickly grew damp as you threaded your fingers through his curls, the repetitive petting being just as soothing for you as it was for him.

Despite it all, you still felt a general sense of nothing at all. You were beginning to grow concerned, knowing that deep down there were certainly emotions that weren’t ready to approach the surface. You worried about what it might look like once those feelings finally came out, but that was the least of your worries when it came to your weeping husband.

Patrick continued to cry quietly, the only sound in the room being his soft, occasional sniffles. You couldn’t even place how you felt or how long you sat there stone faced as you cradled your husband.

Eventually, the tears on your shoulder dried and the intervals between sniffles grew further and further. Soon, the soft sounds of weeping turned into the long and deep breaths of rest. Between you playing with his hair and holding him, he must’ve fallen asleep. You couldn’t really blame him—given your eventful day, your all-nighter the previous day, and the energy it took for him to cry.

You gently laid Patrick back down on his side of the bed, pulling a blanket over his chest and pushing back the hair on his forehead to press a kiss to him. He stirred slightly against the forehead kiss, but didn’t seem to wake up all the way. Even when your feelings were complicated towards the man, you couldn’t help being affectionate towards him. In some ways, you felt like you needed that affection just as much as he did.

You let out a long sigh as the reality of everything truly began to set in, and you no longer had to be strong for your weeping partner. You couldn’t wrap your head around the sight of Patrick crying for the first time, or the fact that he cheated on you. You flicked off the bedside lamp, the only source of light in your otherwise darkened bedroom.

You rolled over in bed and laid on your back, setting your hands on your stomach and staring up at the ceiling. You traced your eyes over the pattern of the ceiling, though it was dark and not all that clear. You wondered if you looked at it long enough, if you’d be able to make some sense out of it. You glanced over at Patrick and wondered the same thing.

You just couldn’t understand why he’d cheat on you. You’d always been under the impression that he was just as happy in your relationship as you were. Despite his promiscuous past, he never seemed like the type of person to not be loyal to you.

You noticed a teardrop trail down his cheek in his sleep, and you gently thumbed it away. The small movement turned into you tracing a line down his nose and over his lips, then over his eyebrows and back down through the few freckles that dotted his face. Maybe if you watched him long enough, if you learned every detail of his face, someone would reveal to you why he’d done something so illogical and cruel.

You worried about how the two of you could move forward from something like this. Though Patrick always approached the topic of infidelity with a dismissive attitude, cheating had always been a deal breaker for you in your past relationships. It shattered your trust in a way that was so foundational, you couldn’t fathom a world where your relationship with Patrick stayed exactly the same after this.

Part of you knew already that moving forward, you’d constantly wonder if he was genuinely working late or if he was having an affair, or if his eye was wandering at events despite you standing by his side. And that was just trust when it came to relationships—obviously his lie was far deeper than just that. Now, you knew that Patrick had the capacity to hold a secret that massive from you, then share it at the worst possible time.

In fact, his timing felt so terrible that you momentarily wondered if it was some sort of power play. Was Patrick trying to remind you that you weren’t equals in this partnership? Was he trying to manipulate you by only sharing this information to you after you were married to him and couldn’t easily call everything off?

Your stomach turned at the possibility that Patrick wasn’t really who he said he was, and that you’d been baited and switched. You recalled the first time you met Patrick’s family, how he switched on a dime and became far more calculated and cruel to them than you’d ever seen him be with you. Was that the realest version of your husband, and the person he was with you just a façade? Was this some sort of long game he was playing with his family to piss a few people off? Did Patrick even love you?

For the first time in your relationship, you felt like you didn’t know who you were sleeping next to. Surely, this couldn’t be the same Patrick who you set out to have a quick hook up with, and ended up talking to him for hours. It couldn’t be the same Patrick who held you tight at night and gave you kisses every morning in your kitchen. The same Patrick from your vows a few hours ago, whose hands shook as he read from notecards and declared his love for you.

You frowned as you looked over Patrick once more. You resented how he was able to sleep so peacefully after inflicting such hurt on you. Did he even understand how destroyed you were? You couldn’t see yourself sleeping through the night in the foreseeable future, your head too filled with questions about your relationship and questions about his relationship with her. Would they continue the affair? Would they still work together after this, leaving you to wonder for the rest of your life if they were still going behind your back?

You desperately wished the thoughts would stop, but they kept coming, punctuated by the sounds of Patrick’s soft snores behind you.

By the time the sun began to peek through the blinds, your hand was on Patrick’s face once again. You wondered how it was possible for him to hurt someone he loved as much as he loved you, if his definition of love was so skewed by a lifetime of abuse labeled as love from his parents, and siblings who used cruelty as a form of affection.

Maybe you should’ve listened to the warnings everyone gave you, from your parents who warned that your husband and his family may be more than you bargained for, from his sisters who never seemed to be able to fully wrap their head around Patrick committing to someone, let alone you. Maybe you should’ve even listened to Tashi’s coded warning about his inability to commit and stay loyal. It seemed like everyone saw the fate of your relationship coming except you.

With the early morning light illuminating the room, things felt a little clearer for you. Beneath the numbness that protected you the previous night was a more painful undercurrent of hurt that was already beginning to eat away at you.

For the past several years of your life, you hadn’t had to deal with any painful feelings on your own. Patrick was always there beside you to hold you tight and reassure you that everything would be okay. As you laid next to him, you realized that despite all the pain he’d inflicted on you, all you really wanted was to be held by him.

Knowing that he was sleeping peacefully beside you, you opted to hold him, draping your body over his and pulling yourself as close as you could manage to him. You leaned your ear against his back, taking in the warmth he gave you and listening to his heart beat. As the two of your breaths and heartbeats began to match the other’s pace, you lamented that even now, your hearts beat as one.

For the first time that evening, your eye prickled with the threat of tears.

You lost track of how long you held your husband, but it was long enough to notice the pattern of his breath changing. You’d woken up beside him enough times to recognize that he was clearly awake, yet he made no other indication to you that he was awake. He wanted you to hold him. You wondered if he thought this might be the last time you ever do that for him. You wondered if it was the last time you’d ever do that for him.

The two of you pretended to be asleep despite the fact that you were both obviously awake, but no one commented on anything. After your arms began to grow numb, you turned your back to Patrick, hoping that he would return the favor and give you what you really wanted. You were pleased to find that he just as eagerly wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight and breathing quietly in your ear.

The two of you sat in complete silence, pretending you didn’t know what the other person was doing. Somehow, it felt like that was about to become a recurring theme in your relationship.

#patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x you #challengers x reader #challengers fic #patrick zweig smut #art donalson x reader #reader insert #josh o'connor x reader #josh o'connor #patrick zweig angst

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cursedhaglette · 9 months ago

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Shoutout Sunday

it is so freaking kind of @littlejuicebox and @tallymonster to tag my work in their shoutout posts, so i wanted to add my own recs of fics i am currently wishing I could leave 1000 kudos on.

also fair warning, i'm a long fic girl. give me an OC to be obsessed, someone i can imagine my own hanging out with, and hopefully one that their author is also obsessed with. i wanna feel that through the writing. and with these, you can.

Pieces Left Stuck in Your Teeth by @howlsmovinglibrary / @wetcatspellcaster - i couldn't put this down when i started it, to the point i was reading it in the car when i should have been grocery shopping. i couldn't stop. it is witty always, devastating at times, and this version of Astarion is just terrible and hilarious in all the best ways

Not Your Sweetheart by @kittenintheden - the most natural dialogue I've ever read, and also the most hilarious. kitten also has such a talent for writing every character in a way that has me laughing each time anyone in her fic speaks. unless it hurts, in which case, it's gonna hurt a LOT

I Want to be Better; Let's Make Each Other Worse by @redrook - my frequent writing bud who's ideas outdo my own more often that not, Jack is an absolute genius and their fic shows it with every word written. the strange ox like you've never seen him before, dolphin riding, ceiling sex - you name it, it's in here AND it makes sense

Pour One Out by the absolutely delicious mind of @aevallare - auristarion supremacy for always. we all know kindred but if you aren't also reading Pour One Out you are, unfortunately, a fool

Sonnet of the Lone Cardinal by @brain-rot-central - neech is doing something truly different with this devastating and delicious A!A piece. and for it to be her first long fic??! the talent is insane

Made for This by @olivedrop - Olive's fic brings me so much joy, not just because Olive herself is an absolute delight, but because her writing is so real and the way she captures the companions feels like it was cut dialogue it's so good

now you want some SMUT? OKAY lets talk - take these and call me in the morning

Think of Me by @scaryanneee is the smut fic of all time for me. i've recced this an unhealthy number of times, probably bordering on it being obsessive

inevitable by @aevallare the smut fic i rec the second most because it's just so easy to place myself in the moment alex writes and as always, i love when the tadpole gets thrown in while folks get nasty

Where were you when I was new? by @kittenintheden - just shut the fuck up and read this and you'll get it. also i'll never stop thinking about how kitten writes dialogue in smut because holy cow

Pent Up by @underdark-dreams - this isn't even Astarion I'm sorry. it's Rolan. i don't even know if i like Rolan. BUT I LOVE THIS FIC. it is so fucking good oh my god.

Careless Whisper by @tallymonster - okay i might be biased because Tally offered to mention Halia here and made her the goddamn prima ballerina, but this is also just So Good and such a fun read. modern AUs don't usually work for me, but this one is that charming

and of course, though i doubt you need my rec to know her by now, anything written by miss @fangswbenefits will make your toes curl. and i mean anything.

#astarion fic writers #astarion fic recs #astarion fanfic recs #astarion fic #astarion fanfic recommendations #fanfic recommendation #fanfic rec #bg3 fanfic #hagbabbles #fic recs

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spectorswife · 11 months ago

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Sneak Peak of Bi-Han fic :)

Keep in mind, I have never written a fanfiction before in my life, let alone smut. I am showing you guys a sneak peak of what I am writing and I want ya'll to let me know whether or not I should continue :)

“You lack conviction”

“Same as you lack intelligence, speaking to your Grandmaster with such disrespect”

You two are alone in his chamber since you needed to speak with him urgently before training, and somehow it always turns into a screaming match between you two. It’s no surprise he would pull the ‘Grandmaster’ card, it’s all he ever uses. It tends to get old really quick, REALLY fast. You felt a headache form as you rolled your eyes in annoyance. The fact that you still put up with it is honestly mindblowing. You tend to follow in Kuai Liang’s footsteps when it comes to ignoring the superiority complex of his brother, however today it’s finally getting under your skin. When training as a fellow member of the Lin Kuei, you endure alot of things, pain, suffering, whether its physically, mentally, or emotionally; however Bi-Han manages to make you want to simply wish for him to silence himself the way he does the other members of the clan.

“I thought the title of ‘Grandmaster’ would also allow you to have common sense and competence, but it seems both are lacking in your favor”.

You see his eyes squint at you and you see his eyebrows squeeze together, you never noticed him being this riled up yet still maintained his posture. He proceeds to move his steps closer to you and points at you,

“Why would I take orders from someone as yourself, not a single drop of Lin Kuei blood in your veins and you still continue to blabber your idiocy at me like a fool, you are not one of us, so don’t spit at me asserting the power you wish you had”

Those words were spat in your face almost as if you just got punched in the face by the grandmaster himself. Just like that, you felt your blood boiling, your jaw clenches, your eyes narrow with you feel your fists clenching. Because your Grandmaster who stands before you has done the one thing that he has never done before, which is insult your origin. You have always known you were never truly a member of the Lin Kuei, however you were very thankful when Kuai Liang found you and took you in. Bi-Han was against it from the very beginning, however you never understood why he disliked you in particular, you always followed his orders and you were one of his best fighters, right up there with Kuai and Tomas; and he still continued to undermine your potential. In this instance, he proceeds to undermine you, degrade you, as if your training and time with the clan means nothing to him. All you did was present an idea on a new training method for potential new comers, since Kuai Liang has trusted you to train the young ones along his side, all you want is what is best for the clan since this clan has become a new type of family to you, and Bi-Han decides to toss it to the side like it’s trash.

You’re already trying your hardest to keep your composure in the presence of him, he knows he gets under your skin, and with his huge ego, he is constantly fueled by what you say in return. He knows that what he said got to you, he can basically see the fumes leaving your body and all you can think of in the moment is violence, however if you hit him now, you’ll lose, if you open your mouth again, you lose; it seems like anything you do, ends up being a loss on your behalf. That’s how he always made you feel, like you’re never enough and you finally decided to accept it. He stands before you with his arms crossed, just simply waiting for what you have to say next. You inhaled deeply, and exhaled calmly, you felt your fists unclench and you did the only thing you could do in this scenario:

You walked away.

When doing so, Bi-han to some surprise, is in shock with your actions, his eyebrows rose in disbelief and he unfolded his arms. “Hmmph” he grunted, “Mind your place”, and shut the door behind you, masking what he was truly feeling. Although this was a win on his behalf, he sure didn’t feel like a winner. For the first time in a long time, the infamous Sub-Zero, felt bad?

LET ME KNOW IF I SHOULD CONTINUE :/

#bi han x reader #bi han sub zero #bi han mk #sub zero #bi han smut #kuai liang scorpion

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roseverdict · 11 months ago

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Writing Commissions Open!

Hey howdy hey, guess who's broke and whose brain has latched on to the idea of getting a bike or a trike to get places other than the one (1) coffee shop in walking distance!

YEP. I need to open commissions.

However, I do have at least one thing going for me- I'm told I'm fairly good at writing things! Fanfic things, at least. While I'm not dumb enough to outright go "hey, pay me to write fanfiction," I figure I can at least point out some fanfics I've written that seem to have gone over well as examples of my work, since that's most of what I've got for proof of my skills.

x x

x x x

x x

I'd show more, but Tumblr won't let me add more images, and even these fought me Tooth And Nail when I was trying to format them properly. Truly a functioning website.

Hopefully these kind of give an idea of the vibes I'm strongest with, too. Pricing and rules will be under the cut. I do have a target I'm trying to reach here, but depending on how well this goes, I might end up keeping commissions open indefinitely. We'll see. :D

DM me if you're interested!

Things I'm Comfortable Writing:

Original Storylines (Brief primer on the world/characters I'll be writing with will be required)

Things like the pieces shown on my AO3 account

OCs

Y/N-style pieces (both with and without the actual usage of "Y/N")

Mild Romance

Gore/Severe Injury

Body Horror

Whump

Look, if it's in the Danny Phantom phandom and basically nowhere else, I'm probably just fine writing it, despite its intensity xD

Things I Will Not Write:

Smut. There's no shame in enjoying it, I just. Don't.

Incest. Absolutely NONE. Even leaving aside the whole debate about whether or not people should ship incest ships, I would not be able to enjoy writing it, which would make the resulting work of low quality, which would be a huge waste of time for everyone involved.

Pedophilia- specifically, ships with a minor and an adult multiple years their senior. See above. 17yo x 18yo is pushing it, but depending on the circumstances, I might allow it. They aren't exactly in completely different phases of life there. However, I'm in my 20s and don't particularly want to think about or write about kids the age of my youngest brother dating people my age or older, you feel me?

Bigotry presented to the reader as a positive thing. I'm not gonna write your favorite heroic character declaring OOC that minorities are terrible people. If you want something from the POV of a character meant to be terrible, such as someone like Fire Lord Ozai in AtLA, however, I may be willing to write it.

I reserve the right to refuse any commission and not have to explain why. Person-to-person, though, this will likely only come up if someone tries to commission something that crosses these lines and refuses to acknowledge such.

Payment: 5¢ USD per word. This works out to…

$12.50 for 250 words

$25 for 500 words

$50 for 1K words

and so on.

I'll need half the payment up front as a deposit, then the rest upon completion. If, for whatever reason, I fail to write the commission, you will be refunded in full.

If you pay me for a given number of words, I will do my best to stick to it. I will make sure you at least get your money's worth, but if I just can't quite fit the writing into the given limit, I won't charge you for the extra words. Call it 100 words or so of wiggle room.

A commission for a fic 1K or larger that runs 100 words or less over the intended length will not cost extra

A commission for a fic between 500 and 999 words that runs 50 words or less over will not cost extra

A commission for a fic 499 words or below that runs 25 words or less over will not cost extra

A commission for a fic that has enough going on to run over that limit will result in me contacting you to ask for either a scaled-down plot or payment for the extra writing.

I will not consider calling a commission complete until I can hit the target wordcount at minimum.

If it should happen that I just can't make a scene stretch to the full wordcount, but you still want to keep what is written, the words that were not written will be refunded.

#writing commissions #writing comms open #id in alt text #atla #rottmnt #tmnt #gravity falls #gf #msa #mystery skulls animated #ninjago #steven universe #steven universe: future #animator vs animation #ava/m #sticks #su #suf #trike saga

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kings-highway · 2 months ago

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i've got quite a lot of fics written but they don't seem complete or cohesive enough to leave my docs,,, i don't know how to outline fics so everytime i get back to them im all over the place and end up doing things from the beginning do u have any advice :⁠,)

so... mhm... this is an interesting question. First of all I GREATLY appreciate you asking but unfortunately this installment of King's "advice column" is going to be half rant, half pep talk, and like maybe a sneaky 3% advice because the truth is... I don't know.

first off: I don't outline anything. Never have. The few times I do outlines it's for the sake of "trying to outline" and never because i wanted to. If you ever see me say the phrase "my outline" what Im actually referring to is the dance-break hallucination of the characters I've set to whatever Top 40 song Im listening to at the moment. I... cannot help you with outlining. Not really.

But I have some things that may help you overall. It sounds like the problem you have is with editing, not writing. Which... if you're new to editing or haven't edited a lot, can be entirely tedious and confusing and you might be saying "ach, but whats the difference!" - the difference is everything. I, personally, love editing. editing is where a story comes alive and can be perfected. If you have a finished full draft of a story, and you truly dont know where to go next... the next step is to be done with it. Literally. I've been working on a personal novel for about 2 years now, and half that time is spent waiting. Put away your draft, write something else. In 2 months, 3 months, come back to it and read it again, change anything you're no longer satisfied with. You'd be SHOCKED how much just taking a break from a story can improve your understanding of it. You may think of things to change in this waiting period - hold off. Hold it in. Let it stew. consider it caramalizing onions. there's simply no way to rush it. NOW - you expressed the sentiment of "i always end up doing things from the beginning-" I say... no you dont. That IS editing. My story has fully changed from front to back multiple times. That new draft you wrote from scratch? congrats, thats your second draft. Not your first. then you do it again. And again. Until the edits become smaller and smaller and smaller. And then when you hate it enough, you say "i cant possibly touch this anymore" and thats when you let someone read it.

And the truth is, they should have been reading it before. Feedback is infinitely important, in the editing process. You cannot expect to only ever show the best product. I have friends who have read drafts of my novel that wouldnt even be able to recognize what it is now. but I could never have gotten it to this point without their feedback. You have to be okay with letting someone - even just one person - see your bad first draft. THEY will be able to tell you where your cohesion is or isnt and how to improve it.

BUT that brings me to a second point, and the idea that this is probably fanfiction. Now, your initial ask was a little vague, so consider the first response there me being under the assumption you were interested in completely finishing a novel or short story with incredibly serious intent. Now Im going to assume you might be looking to publish chapter by chapter or take it "less seriously" because its just for having fun.

And to that i Say:

if youre publishing chapter-by-chapter (and writing chapter by chapter) your cohesion is gonna be shit!!! thats a first draft youre putting out into the world, babe, its gonna be ass! but embrace the chaos!!! I have learned and developed SO MUCH as a writer by publishing chapters one at a time, namely how to "punch through" that lack of cohesion. Consider your first draft a challenge. no matter how many errors you make, you are NOT allowed to go back and change it. that thing you committed to chapter 2? well its chapter 18 now and you either need to address it, or ignore it and hope your readers dont comment. You are beholden to your own writing and theres nothing you can do. Make it work. Its probably not as bad as you think.

Which brings me back to my initial point - dont trust me on cohesion!! Or, maybe, don't trust *yourself* on your judgement of your story. I'm assuming if you're asking you like at least 1 of my stories, so here's that aforementioned peptalk bit from the beginning:

if we're talking about incohesive stories and bad choices and things that REALLY should have been edited, I'm the (hehe puns) King of them. (I sometimes just vaguely think about Paranormality and want to tear my hair out - and yet this is one people seem to love the most!) here's two facts from my stories that are currently still available to read on ao3:

1. In "The Island" Jasvir and the rescue team make a 24 hour journey in about 6 hours (Because I forgot where New Zealand was and didnt fact check before)

2. In "Soulmake Adventures" Tendou describes how Ushijima stays at his apartment when he's "in the city" despite that city being Tokyo and the home base for the Adlers and Ushijima really should, like, have a home. (It did not occur to me to even check)

And Honey, if you think I had a plan for even one goddamn second of Paranormality you're mistaken. Holy shit it's just nonsense after nonsense after nonsense. I REALLY should have like, at least at one point, like... thought ahead. I just kept shoving stuff in and backpedaling and doubling down on things. But it was FUN to write. And people had a lot of fun reading it. I could edit it into something cohesive, but I dont think it needs that. I think if youre writing fanfiction, maybe its okay to just let it be a little bit loose and fucked up for the sake of the joy of it.

here's.... uh.... 3% advice:

1. have an ending. the stories where I know what my last scene (or my last line) will be always get drafted easier and with less stress. I dont mean have an ending idea. I mean literally mentally map out the last paragraph. Really helps me keep on track

2. talk to people. Walk them through your premise and your themes and what you want it to be. saying it out loud almost always will start clicking puzzle pieces together.

3. learn editing. unfortunately im not talking about grammer and spelling, i mean proper content editing. You have to build this skill seperately from your writing.

4. accept that your first draft is for vibes and fun. Push forward and do your best to "force it" however you need to, but;

4.5. understand that deleting work is part of the creation process too. If you do scrap an entire draft and start over, youre not "starting over" - youre starting draft 2. Thats editing!

#advice corner is peptalk corner now ig #this one was useless but i hope it helps in even a small way #i love receiving asks of all kinds so plesse feel free to keep sending them

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writing-havoc · 2 years ago

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I can't STOP thinking of an idea for inej ghafa x fem!reader so here you go (let me know if I'm freaking you out or if I need to stop, please!). i've read several kaz fics where he gets jealous of r very close relationship with some crow, so imagine that except with inej, where r is kaz's childhood best friend and they are a duo in the eyes of practically everyone (some even consider them a couple). r and inej have been mutually interested in each other for a long time, but r doesn't do anything because she's afraid of the consequences if the information gets out and inej doesn't try anything because she's in doubt whether r likes girls the way she (inej) does. maybe after a heist gone wrong r narrowly escaped death and now inej can't stop thinking about what could have happened if something worse had happened and r had died so the two talk privately and both admit what they feel one for the other. I can't get this idea out of my head and now I want to know how you would write about it. love inej and would like to see more of her point of view on her. oh, it would also be really nice if there was a spotlight on the platonic kaz x reader relationship. something like "we have a problem" and "no you have a problem, I have a problem friend". I imagine too much kaz rolling her eyes at every involuntary sigh of r for inej and at the end when r goes to tell her and inej getting together, kaz just like: "really? and the sky is blue?" but secretly glad her friend and the wraith are together. just inej and r being crazy about each other and kaz turning a blind eye (no romantic feelings for either of course)ssalto que deu errado r escapou por pouco da morte e agora inej pode ' t parar de pensar sobre o que poderia ter acontecido se algo pior tivesse acontecido e r tivesse morrido então os dois conversam em particular e ambos admitem o que sentem um pelo outro. Não consigo tirar essa ideia da cabeça e agora quero saber como você escreveria sobre isso. amo inej e gostaria de ver mais de seu ponto de vista sobre ela. ah, também seria muito bom se houvesse um destaque na relação platônica kaz x leitor. algo como "nós temos um problema" e "não, você tem um problema, eu tenho um problema amigo". Imagino demais kaz revirando os olhos a cada suspiro involuntário de r para inej e no final quando r vai contar pra ela e inej se reunindo, kaz tipo: "sério? e o céu tá azul?" mas secretamente feliz por sua amiga e o fantasma estarem juntos.

Fist bump

♡ Summary: Inej contemplates whether her feelings for you are reciprocated. A nearly fatal injury throws all apprehensions out the window.

♡ Pairing: Inej Ghafa x Fem!Reader, Kaz Brekker x Reader (platonic!!!)

♡ Fandom: Six of Crows, Grishaverse

♡ Warning(s): Gunshot wound, says y/n three times

♡ WC: 5.4k

Hello!!

Thank you for the request. It was nice getting to write for Inej again. While I've only written for her once before, I feel confident that I'm closer to getting her character right

Kaz is slightly ooc imo. But I feel it comes with the territory of him actually having a lifelong friend instead of being completely alone. So be prepared for that!

Hope you enjoy it regardless <3

Please excuse any grammar and spelling mistakes

∘₊✧──────────────────✧₊∘

"What the hell am I looking at?" You ask, frozen in place.

Kaz sighs from somewhere deep within his throat, tone riddled with annoyance. "Your guess is as good as mine."

Inej takes a moment to stare. Her mouth might be open as she squints at the scene, but that's... the least of her worries.

Jesper and Wylan were currently flirting with eachother on the ground floor of the Crow Club, not even at any specific game. Every once in a while pieces of their conversation would float to her ears, and it was just plain horrible.

It's honestly surprising. Jesper has no problem attracting anybody of any gender, but with the way he's talking to Wylan right now she finds it truly unbelievable that Jesper was able to pull anybody at all.

What's even more unbelievable was that Wylan was actually enjoying it.

Seduction tactics don't really interest Inej. But even she is able to distinguish between a good and bad pickup line.

The moment she hears something about a fruit she makes it a point to stop listening to them completely.

"Whatever it is they're talking about I don't think its wise for us to listen anymore." Inej turns away, body facing towards you.

"Agreed." You scoff, turning a little towards her too. "I'm not all that into exhibitionism."

Kaz's eyebrows raise. "Surprising."

He's mocking you, which you immediately recognize and shoot a glare at him, knocking your heel into his cane. "Budge off, limpy."

"Oh no. Not my limp. Anything but the limp."

It's really only funny because Kaz isn't bothering to fluctuate his voice at all. It's monotone, and his eyes remain half lidded and he hoists his cane up and brushes off the dirt you got on it.

Inej smiles, holding back a chuckle as she watches the crowd around her, people steering clear if only for the fact that Kaz is nearby.

"Yes, the limp. Your worst fear." You giggle when you watch his eyes roll.

Nina comes in, standing below the railing where you stand, eyes flickering between you and Kaz.

"How are the lovebirds doing?" She jests.

It sends a little pang through Inej's heart.

Your closeness with Kaz has been a topic of interest within the crows since they joined the little inner circle. And it's not all that surprising.

You have known Kaz the longest out of any of them. You were with him when he joined the Dregs, when he climbed his way up the ladder until he became floor boss and when he managed to secure fifth harbor. You even own a share in it, taking the risk and knowing full well Kaz would have gotten it up and running.

He let's you closer than anyone else, his trust intrinsic to the fact that you have been with him through thick and thin. Inej can tell something big happened an your guys' past, small looks shared here and there, pursed lips when someone mentions a niche topic.

But with the way you hang around eachother, when you sigh with a far away look and Kaz wacks your shin with his cane just gard enough that it aches, when you can have a conversation with just a glance, it's only natural that people assume.

"In his fucking dreams." You chuckle. "This lump of coal is my best friend and nothing more, we've told you this."

Nina smirks, looking between you two once more. "You tell me and yet I can sense your heart beating like crazy, my dear Y/n."

Inej watches as you prickle, flustered, but her gazing is interrupted when you turn your body completely away from her, focusing solely on Nina.

"Hearts can lie, Zenik." Inej watches as the smile falters slightly on Nina's face. "There are people who have mastered the art of lying without any spikes in heartbeat because of grisha power. Unrelated, im simply inebriated and just witnessed the most foul and frankly disgusting conversation between Jesper and Wylan."

Nina groans. "Oh don't even get me started on that. They walked right next to me and let me tell you, I learned more about Wylan than I ever needed to know."

And just like that the topic is dropped, but Inej's mind was still gripping it, trying and failing to squeeze any sort of meaning beneath your words.

Because that conversation between those two boys hadn't flustered you in the slightest. You made jokes, voice and posture lacking any semblance of embarrassment.

You like someone. If not Kaz, then someone else. Someone you know. She takes the little hope that bubbles in her heart and gently pours it into a bottle, corking it and putting it away.

Hope is dangerous. But not unnecessary.

She'll look at it later. When she has time to feel what she needs to feel.

"Well that's a delicious specimen." You purr, watching a man in a bright yellow-green suit walk into the club.

Nina looks where you do, Inej and Kaz following your gaze.

"5." Is all Nina says.

"James Denker." Kaz relays. "Dirt poor, dressed in an attempt to impress."

"Ugly suit color." It wasnt, but it clashed horribly with the reds and blacks the club adorned. He stood out like a sore thumb.

You groan. "You're all the worst."

"We're simply saving you from having the worst time of your life." Nina downs a glass being cleaned up, Rotty taking it back once it was dry. "Speaking of, I need to go find Matthias."

"To torture him?" You lean into the railing, resting your head in your open hand.

Nina hums. "Torture is not on the menu tonight."

Kaz rolls his eyes, immediately leaving to go elsewhere as Nina strolls away, off to find her burly boyfriend.

You stay planted exactly where you are, looking out at the little tide pool of people rolling dice and flipping cards.

"Everyone's so obsessed with sex today." You remark.

Inej raises a brow. "You literally just called a man a 'delicious specimen'."

You chuckle. "I wasnt actually going to do anything. I would never go for a man dressed like an unripe lemon."

She hums, coming to rest her hands on the rail next to you. Out of the corner of her eye she sees you begin to track someone, a smile pulling at your lips. She follows your gaze, and sees a women in a dark blue dress, low a-line revealing her stomach. A feather boa rests on her shoulders, a matching dark blue bandana pinning her hair back in a mass of curls.

"Men tend to have the worst fashion taste."

Inej looks at you, your face relaxed and pupils wider than she's ever seen them.

The girl comes up to the railing, looking up at you. You give her a toothy smile, allowing her to take your hand and give it a kiss.

It squashes her heart and shocks it all at once.

You're so gentle with the woman below, who introduces herself as Femke, at it pains Inej that it's not her, but also uncorks that bottle she had just put away and pours it all over her.

She feels it in her hands, the way her eyes avert as you giggle at eachother with your hand in the safety of your pocket, the way her feet want to run and jump between the highest rooftops.

Kaz was incredibly right. Hope is dangerous.

"I have to go, but it was lovely conversing with you." You say politely, giving Inej a look she knows is begging you to follow her.

She does so, taking an alternate route out of club, pulling up a mask and throwing the hood of her tunic over her head.

She heads out a side door, melding into the shadows of an alleyway as she begins to scale the side of the building, fingers still electrified. Balconies become footholds and launching points and gutters become ledges to hoist herself up.

You're a bit further behind, but not terribly. You opt for a ladder placed on the back of a building two addresses down. You hop along the top of the curved rooftops, bouncing between the dormers and sliding down gabled edges whilst Inej followed, a grin pulling her mask up until you both reach a flat roof.

The view below is rather pretty compared to the rest of the Barrel. The distance you had crossed places you closer to East Stave, the wide canal full of boats and gondolas.

Lamposts were beginning to turn on, the lamplighters going around and lighting them. People began to bunch up, drawing their coats around their shoulders.

She looks at you, then. Worn out, the thinnest sheen of sweat making you glow. She wants to know just how warm you are.

She stays where she is.

"You're rather popular tonight." Inej begins, biting the topic in the ass.

"Hm?" You ask, catching your breath. "Oh, Femke. I guess."

Inej quirks a brow. "It didnt go as planned?"

You chuckle. "You were standing right next to me, Inej." Her name sounds like sweet treats her parents used to get her coming from your lips.

"The moment felt private."

"Femke was pretty, yes. She was... fucking gorgeous." You laugh, a kind of manic one when you remember her features. "But I couldn't be with her even if I wanted to."

Your face turned a little more solemn, eyes glancing around Inej's face.

"I'm sure she would have agreed to a night together if you showed interest."

"Thats not the problem. But thanks for the vote of confidence." You turn away, hopping onto the edge of the roof, hanging your legs off the side.

She walks to the edge, prefering to stay where she could quickly flee, hands resting on the concrete. "Do you want to elaborate?"

She hopes you'll say yes. Hopes you'll let her in.

You swing your feet, lip sucked between your teeth as you tear off the skin.

"I have... a rather quiet appreciation for the attractiveness of women." You say, staring out at the open street full of people. Inej cannot help but think of how romantic this all could be, if the day had been different. The topic lighter. Your words bobble around in her mind relentlessly. "Aside from the fact that me being with someone could compromise their safety, women get enough people who will yell how pretty we are with the caveat that they'll hurt us if we take it negatively in any way. I wanted my love for women to be quieter, out of personal experience, but there all the same."

It feels like Inej's mind is playing tricks on her, some sort of intoxication manifesting in auditory hallucinations. But when you look at her out of the corner of your eye, mouth upturned so perfectly, she knows in her wildest dreams she couldn't have thought of something even half as stunning.

She looks where you were just looking, seeing parades of men with their arms slung around eachother stumbling down the road, women hooking their arms through the other and talking quietly into the others ear, families tugging their kids close and loners standing on the corners of buildings with blunts and cigars resting between their fingers.

She understands. "You've got a beautiful soul."

She'll treasure the way she could hear your shoulders relax, hand coming to rest right next to hers.

-----

"Kaz!! Kaz Kaz Kaz Kaz-"

Inej was startled from her perch in the window when your voice boomed up the stairs, door to the office flying open.

You were slightly out of breath, and your hair was a mess of strands flying in random directions, like you'd been running your fingers through it. Pulling it even.

Kaz didn't seem worried in the slightest though. In fact, she wasn't even sure he recognized you were there until he said, "What is it now, Y/n?"

"We have a problem."

"No we don't. You have a problem. I have a friend who is obsessed with making them." He looks up from his desk, not even bothering to set down the pen from his hold. "What happened?"

Your lip wobbled, and Inej was quick to tag it as fake when you threw yourself into the lonely chair that sits across from Kaz's desk, body melting into it. "There's no more Kvas."

He sighs. "Of course there isn't." His fingers find the bridge of his nose, pinching it just slightly.

"We had four bottles left yesterday." Inej notes. "Was there some sort of celebration?"

"No. All jobs that took place yesterday, while necessary, wouldn't have warranted a celebration like that. I'll order more tonight."

Immediately you brighten, face splitting open as you hop up from the chair, a giggle spilling from your lips. "Thank you Kaz!"

"What's the ocassion?" Inej asks. Her heart stutters when you turn that wide grin towards her.

"Remember that businessman Kaz had you spy on a few days ago?"

That got both her and Kaz's attention, the both of them staring at you. "I do."

"Well, I happened to run into him today and had a chat with him when I realized he was wearing a pocketwatch of the same type that my father used to wear." The mention of your family only makes Inej more interested.

You and Kaz never talk about where you came from, not unprompted anyway. The only tidbits of information that Inej has been able to scrounge up and overhear was that your family was very close friends with Kaz's, and that both of your parents, judging by how you talk about them, are either dead or too busy to bother contacting you.

"And this is meant to mean... what? Exactly?" Kaz prompts, a bit of caution dripping from his tone.

"I'm getting to it! Anyway, we had a rather long conversation about it and how useful they can be. Which of course led into talk about businesses and meetings and the such- he mentioned that there was about to be a huge rise in, like, 4 different stocks because of something going on over in Ravka. I have it written down, um, here!"

You root around your jacket, taking a card out of one of your inner pockets and handing it to Kaz. Inej stood up and walked over, taking a look at the writing.

There 5 stocks written down in your own messy scrawl, the card itself being the man's business information. One of the stocks she recognized as being really low from when Kaz talked about it the day she had to spy on him.

"I also managed to nab his wallet. You would not believe the stuff this guy keeps in here. There's a deed and tons of other interesting things." You take a wallet from your pocket, leaning forward and dangling it in front of Kaz's face.

He grabbed it from you, opening the leather receptacle.

"Aren't I just the greatest bff you could ask for?" You posed, going out of your way to exaggerate each one, sending a wink Inej's way when she eventually made eye contact with you.

"Annoying, is what you are." Kaz remarks.

You two were incredibly confusing sometimes. He treats you differently than he would everyone else. You make fun of him and tease him and get closer than anyone would dare, and he takes all of it in stride, turning your teasing right back on you, pulling you around by your waist with his cane when you particularly annoy him or when you're about to run into something.

But maybe that's just a statement of your friendship. In a way, Inej doesn't think anyone will ever be able to get so deep beneath Kaz's walls like you have. Kaz deserves to have that someone that he can just be who he is around. There's some semblance of a boy within that bloody battered exterior.

And who better to bring that out than you? The person who came here with him and who holds so much compassion that it's truly a wonder it hasn't been beaten out of you yet? You hold a certain appreciation for life that brings a balance to the apathy Kaz likes to exhibit and uplifts others.

It makes Inej remember the little moment last night. The way you looked so calm and the way the lights of the lampost made your skin glow.

You... you really like girls. And it makes Inej feel so giddy and hopeful. It translates as a smile that you return.

Kaz sighs. "Inej, I need you to return this once I look at everything."

She glares at him. "We've talked about this."

"Dearest Inej, will you please return this once I'm done?"

"Can I come?" You ask.

"Unfortunately for you, no." Kaz gives you a glance. "Youre needed with Jesper and I after I do this."

Your eyebrows snap together, mouth opening to say something before the whole expression fades into realization. "Oh yeah." You drag out the words. "For that thing near the lid."

Kaz neglects to answer, still going over everything in the wallet. He pulls out a few bills of kruge, which he immediately stows away into his shirt pocket. Everything is taken out and placed methodically around his desk, any wet papers being skillfully avoided.

"That thing is a ten thousand kruge job. So you better remember what it is."

There's a silence for a few moments, your wide eyes trailing towards Inej. She shrugs, and you cup your hand around your mouth, a stage whisper exiting your lips. "I don't remember."

Kaz drops the wallet, scratching his chair against the floor as he says "of course you don't, filthy lovebird" and walks to a drawer in a dresser, pulling out a blueprint.

'Lovebird.' Inej thinks the same time you whine out an 'I'm sorry' but Kaz ignores it, shoving the paper into your hand. You quickly unroll it as Kaz starts going over the plan once more, eyes flickering to find the starting point.

"It's simple. You will use your curse of an ability to start conversation with complete strangers and distract the guard at the west point by asking for a bathroom..."

Inej remembers this. Kaz had briefed her for it as well before realizing her presence, for once, wasn't all that necessary. You were acting strange that meeting, half of it you were off staring into space at Inej.

She remembers her collar feeling a little stiff, heat making her sweat under your gaze.

Kaz ended up sighing and knocking the metal head of his cane against your forehead, making you yelp. He had to go over the plan again, Jesper laughing at your pouted lip.

"I don't need anything else from this wallet." The conversation fades back into focus. "The kruge and the stock card are all I need. Inej." He holds out the wallet to her, which she takes and immediately pockets it.

"How long will you be gone?" She asks, eyes flickering to you.

"No more than four hours." Kaz stands and takes his cane, heading to the coat rack to collect his outer wear. He gives you a stern glare. "If everything goes according to plan."

Your eyes roll, landing on Inej. "No faith. Absolutely none."

"Faith isn't in his vocabulary."

Kaz walks out the door, leaving it wipe open.

Inej expects you to follow, to jog to the door and disappear beyond into the darkness of the staircase with nothing but a 'see ya' yelled at her.

But you turn to her instead, hand rubbing over your stomach as if to quiet it. You wet your lips, her eyes following the movement. She stands a little straighter when you approach.

"No mourners, yeah?" You extend your fist.

Inej smiles, heart beating faster as she tentatively bumps her knuckles into yours. "Yeah. No funerals."

With a nod, you chuckle and leave, leaving Inej alone with her thoughts and a cold wallet pressed into her tunic.

You'll be fine. Jobs like these were routine, and Kaz and Jesper were two people she'd trust with your life any day.

But that doesn't stop the anxiety from bubbling in her gut, acid gnawing at the walls as she leaps out the window.

The chance for something to go wrong is never zero.

-----

They should be, though.

A loud, booming "Move" startles everyone away from the door. People dive out of the way, a cane flashing by their faces as Jesper carries a body down to the makeshift hospital beneath the Slat.

Inejs heart sinks, Nina rushing in after them.

There's only one person that could be.

She hops down the stairs, weaving through people like a needle and thread and swinging the door open with such a force that it bounces off the wall and squeals shut behind her.

"Guys please it's not that ba- OW!"

"You don't get to say it's not that bad when you lost nearly a quart of blood." Jesper hisses, grabbing at his head.

"What happened?" Inej demands, a rumbling in her chest as she does so.

Kaz nearly threw his cane down, chunks of his composure swiftly falling away. "Plan A failed, we had to resort to Plan J."

Inej wants to tug out her braid, to tug his hair out, "Which was?"

"Fucking book it." Jesper slumps into a chair. "Which we did, but one of them got lucky and hit her in quite possibly one of the worst places you can get hit."

Inej starts going through a catalogue of major arteries, sick intrusive images of your neck blown open and chest reduced to a gaping hole shoving their way into her mind.

But that's not the case. You were talking, sitting upright, protesting.

Now you're laid down, your nails carving crescent moons into your forehead as you shove the heel of your palms into your eyes, teeth gritting.

Nina's using her heartrending to look over your hip and thigh area, and Inej realizes the predicament that the novice healer has to deal with.

There's an artery that runs through the inner thigh. If it's hit, it's almost just as deadly as the side of your neck being slit open. The bullet managed to hit within that area, and a tightly bound blood-soaked piece of fabric was keeping pressure on the wound. Probably the only thing keeping you from bleeding out.

"It's been nicked. But the bullet seems to still be in you. I'll have to do my best to heal it while also trying to direct it out of your body." Nina doesn't even give you a moment to process it, immediately loosening the fabric.

Blood begins to gush from your wound, and Inej wants to scream.

Jesper follows your lead and digs his palms into his eyes. Kaz stands a good few feet from the table, watching the whole thing unfold. And Inej is...

She walks up to the side of the table, reaching out and brushing her finger through your hair.

"It'll be done soon, yeah?" She asks thought not really expecting an answer, watching your temple flex and your skin turn red as you held your breath. A rough scream escapes your lungs when you open your throat, gulping in as much air as possible before you go back under.

A small tink sounds against the table, bullet out. But Nina is sweating, glowing under candle light as she stitches everything she can back together.

"The bullets out. The only thing you have to do is wait for Nina to be done putting you together again and then you'll be done."

Healing, while ever so helpful, was far from painless. You're speeding up your body's natural process, your skin, muscles, veins being stitched back together on a cellular level.

A highly trained grisha healer could probably numb you while doing so. But Nina is not that.

Inej wants to be mad at her for being so inept when it comes to this. For not having the ability to just repair you with practiced ease and get this over with.

But she can't. She can't be mad at Nina for being who she is.

Instead she's grateful that Nina is here at all. Otherwise you'd be-

Saints, she doesn't want to think about it.

"What went wrong?" Inej asks, taking your hands away from your eyes when beads of blood build on your forehead. "This was supposed to be simple."

You grip her hands tightly. She squeezes them right back, hoping she's providing some sort of relief as she prays for your life.

"Simple doesn't cut it when your intel becomes outdated." Kaz snarled. "They changed the guard postings on the inside. We got found out shortly after retrieving this."

He pulls out a rolled up painting from a tube slung over a chair. It's a landscape of what looks to be from Fjerdan territory looking beyond towards Ravka. The Shadow Fold is missing, and in the distance she can see the artist took some creative liberties and drew the Ravkan palace.

"Supposed to be worth over ten times what we were getting paid for." Jesper uncovers his eyes, opting to cover his mouth and nose. "Doesnt really seem worth it for this."

He glances at Kaz, but Kaz looks at her, and in those dark brown eyes she feels like they come to an understanding. Kaz knows things that Inej hasnt bothered to voice to him outloud. He knows how she feels about you, and is probably just about the only person that on some level could come close to feeling the way she does now.

You're way too important to lose.

Nina let's out a deep breath, hands becoming slower and less steady. "I've got this mostly patched up, but for now the artery is pretty weak. I've got most of the muscles around it to heal to protect what it can but rest and the least amount of movement as possible while I monitor this for the next few days is whats needed."

Inej feels you relax, hands no longer squeezing the life out of her own. Your elbows knock against the table, foot wiggling on your injured leg.

You swallow. "Okay."

Inej has never heard you sound so small, which is surprising.

This isn't your first time getting injured like this, though it has been a long time. But even now she can remember you fighting them every step of the way when you were asked to rest.

Now you're more compliant than ever. You're not even making a move to sit up.

Kaz clears his throat. "Jesper, Nina, out."

Inej can hear Jesper get up from the chair, all too ready to get away from the situation. Nina, however, is less ready to vacate your side.

"I want to check over the rest of her for any other injuries you may have missed in your getaway plan." She places her hands over your head, slowly moving down your body.

"There are no other injuries. It was just the bullet. Out."

Jesper is already up the stairs, probably to find Wylan. She knows he'll come back later, once he's calmed down and can properly look you in the eye after being faced with your mortality. Nina gets down to your feet, and sighs.

"Just wanted to make sure your girlfriend-"

At the same time, you and Kaz state that you're not together. Your voice is a lot sharper than Kaz's, which is enough for Nina to whip around and give you a look.

You're sat up now, propped up on your elbows as you glare at her.

"I would really appreciate it if you stopped pushing us together, thanks."

Your hand squeezes Inej's, and it's like her heart gets zapped with a little lightning.

Nina eyes you for a moment, expression a little hurt but otherwise reserved as she searches for something.

When she looks at Inej, it seems she found it.

Her eyebrows shoot up, and her mouth falls into a little 'o' as she backs up. "How could I have missed that?"

Before Inej can silently ask what that means, she's smirking and basically running up the stairs.

Kaz collects his things, then gives Inej and you a nod before following.

The door above clicks shut, and a bound of wild creaking from above tells her that a few people were crowding around the door and waiting for news.

You squeeze her hand again, and Inejs attention is all on you.

"How bad is it?" You ask.

Inej swallows, then looks down. There's a mess of reds and purple around where the wound is. It's smaller than before, skin a little malformed where Nina put everything back together.

"It looks like you got shot."

You chuckle, moving to sit up completely. Inej helps you were she's needed, letting you use her to pull yourself up and position yourself without using your leg.

Silence followed. Your hand was still holding Inej's, your thumb going over rough spots on her palms. Your finger would stop, finding a spot that was particularly rough, and then smooth over it as if you could make it disappear.

"Thank you."

Her brows scrunch. "For what?"

"For staying."

"Of course."

You take a deep breath, exhale coming out shaky. Before Inej can ask what was the matter, you begin talking.

"I like you." You say. "I like you a lot, and I have for a while. Long enough that I can't be in a room alone without automatically looking for even though I know you won't be there. Enough that about half the time when I feel like you're watching me I'm right, and I can pick you out from the crowd."

Inej is smiling. She can feel it on her face, eyes pricking and ears ringing just a bit.

"Kaz has gotten so sick of me talking about you to the point he actually has resorted to knocking his cane against me when I sigh too loudly or when your name comes out of my mouth for the tenth time in a minute." A chuckle comes out of your mouth when you go to rub at a bruise on your shin. "He doesnt mean to be harsh but I think he forgets how solid his cane is sometimes."

She's laughs, the same as you do when she pulls your hand towards her and presses it against her chest, heart saying everything and more.

But words matter too.

"I like you too. For what sounds like just as long as you have. Believe me if I had known you liked girls I wouldn't have let you torture Kaz for as long as you did."

"What do you say? Girlfriends?" You let go of her hand and hold out your fist.

She bumps her fist against yours. "Girlfriends."

She loves the way your eyes brighten.

However, she does not love that the door to the room comes open again.

The distinct sound of metal on wood tells the both of you immediately who it is. While Inej's annoyance only slightly decreases, yours disappears immediately.

"Kaz!"

"Y/n."

"Look!" You gently offer your hand, and Inej slips her fingers between yours, interlocking them. "We're dating. Inej likes me back."

He rounds the corner, looking at the both of your hands. He puts up his shoulders, raising an eyebrows.

"And im actively disabled. Dont waste my time with the obvious."

You chuckle. "Thanks, Kaz."

While Kaz mulls over whether it's worth it to stay down here, Inej helps you off the table, easing your leg down to the ground where it remains limp.

"Oh my saints, twinsies."

Inej looks between you and Kaz. Your limp leg is the same as his.

"If I ever hear you say twinsies again, you will lose me as your friend."

"Impossible."

Kaz takes that as a challenge, and moves up the stairs faster than she has ever seen him go.

As you call out to him to get his ass back here, Inej takes a moment to think about how perfect everything is.

Your leg may be out of commission, but you're happier than she has ever seen you before. You asked her to be your girlfriend, and still you're gentle and wait for permission. She's giggling as you do when you trip a little and catch yourself on the step.

She's so incredibly happy to be where she is today. And even more excited to figure out where the both of you will go from here.

∘₊✧──────────────────✧₊∘

Tags:

@xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @kylie18 @morrigan-crowmwell @venomsvl @milkshake0

#ask #inej ghafa x y/n #inej ghafa x reader #inej ghafa x you #inej ghafa imagine #inej ghafa fanfiction #six of crows fanfic #six of crows x reader #six of crows x y/n #six of crows x you #grishaverse x you #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse x y/n #fanfic #morrigan-crowmwell

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