#wish I could have made the buildings a little more broken | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pedropascallme · 2 months ago

Text

Stars Above

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x f!Reader

Summary: "Perhaps sensing your discomfort, he smiled, and the thin remnants of his lips cracked open to display yellow teeth. 'You ain’t never seen a ghoul before, vaultie?'"

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI!!!!) canon typical violence and lots of it, threatening language, angst, description of a panic attack, descriptions of cannibalism and dead bodies, age gap obviously (Cooper is canon 200+ years old; reader is written as early 20s), guided masturbation (f receiving), themes of voyeurism/exhibitionism, a ton of dirty talk, very mild degradation, phonetic spelling of Cooper's accent because I can, if I missed anything please let me know!!

AN: part 2 here!!

You had miscalculated just about everything about the surface.

You’d underestimated the ability people had to be cold and calculating in their cruelty. You’d underestimated the difficulty of navigating the endless Wasteland. You’d underestimated the effects radiation might have on you, leaving you fatigued and nauseous despite the Rad-X you’d been sure to pack away safely in your satchel.

Maybe you should’ve read the warning label.

What was worse, you thought, was how badly you had overestimated yourself. You were so certain you would be able to make a name for yourself—make a name for those you would meet; find kindness in the sand and friends in low places.

But you were just a small drop in the bucket, and nobody wanted a name. They wanted to survive in silence and safety.

You were out of rations, and nearly out of water. You’d sweat gallons through your vault suit, making the fabric itchy as it clung to your skin, and causing you to shiver sporadically as the setting sun invited a chill over the landscape. You dragged your feet over the sand, leaving a path behind you, and part of you wondered if you should just drop dead right there. The sand was soft, warm, and maybe dying on your own accord would be more comfortable than dying by the hand of someone who would kill you simply for the sheer rush of spilling blood.

You stopped moving, slumping down to the ground and coughing. There was a deep ache in your lungs, and heaving up dry air did little to quell the overall discomfort.

You wove your hands through the sand, letting it fall through your fingers.

Could you just go home? Had you ever really had a home?

You pushed down a wave of nausea, swallowing the bile that pushed up against your throat, Tumbledown buildings crumbled around you, and for once in your life you felt truly small. Once, when you were young, you had been sent to your room, and in a moment of frustrated panic you’d felt as though the walls were caving in on you. You’d stood on your bed, pushing up on tiny tiptoes, pressing your hands to the ceiling, refusing to let the walls squeeze you into a cube of yourself.

You smiled at the memory. You wished now more than ever that you could stand on your toes and push against the sky.

You heard something echo in the distance, and, flinching, squinted up into the horizon. Metal rooves reflected against the fading burden of the sun; another echo sounded, something like spurs on scrap, and you sighed, heart heavy in your chest.

Maybe this town would be the one to offer solace.

You stood on tired legs, making haste in the direction of the noise.

~~~

The tinny sounds had ceased long before you walked through the broken arch announcing the town. It was desolate, as if everybody had vacated the area before you’d made contact. Part of you took it personally, and you pouted rather childishly.

In the dimly lit dusk, you roamed the empty paths under flickering lights, stepping over caps and carts that had been turned over. When you came across a body, it became apparent that the clamor you had followed was the result of a gunfight.

You stepped over the body, too.

You had never stared at death before making your way to the surface, and it had come as a shock to you that it didn’t bother you more. Blood wasn’t as bright as it was in the movies, nor did killers give any heated last words before pulling the trigger. Any executions you had seen thus far were dull and hurried. You thought back to an old movie you watched once, one that ended with a cowboy executing a rowdy criminal, and you wondered if anybody bothered to monologue their slaughters the way he had.

You’d long forgotten the title of the film and the name of the actor, but you remembered finding him handsome.

You stooped on bent knees to pick up a piece of fruit that had fallen from one of the overturned carts. You sat there, gnawing at it, feeling the sour bites you took fall into your empty stomach. You made it to the core, tossing it over your shoulder and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. But you paused, remnants of the bitter juice still on your lips when your head shot up to analyze your surroundings.

Someone was watching you.

The sound of footsteps approaching were made all the more unsettling when paired with a boisterous, ugly laugh. Still on your knees, you squared your shoulders, looking up to meet the eyes of a man in bloodied garb and a gun on his hand.

“Saw you eating that,” his teeth were sharp, and his voice high, “Not good to litter, vaultie.” He stopped in front of you, hands on his hips as he scrutinized you. “Why don’t you go crawl over and pick that up.”

You didn’t move. He put his hands on his knees to lean over you, fumbling with his revolver.

“No,” you tried to sound confident, though your voice was quiet and didn’t carry far, “I don’t want to. Thank you.”

He howled, and it made you wince. “Thank you, now that’s sweet,” his gun came up to poke under your chin, “Thank you…I wasn’t asking, girl.”

You tried to find your voice again, but the barrel of the gun was pressed into your neck, and you knew he would seize on any reason to pull the trigger. You inhaled through your nose, trying to buy yourself some time.

A shadow came up behind you, wrapping you in darkness as something approached soundlessly. The man in front of you faltered, and you watched as the confidence drained from his eyes.

“Ain’t that sweet…” A drawling voice, almost saccharine, came from the source of the shadow, and you knew then that it was someone. “Find y'self a toy there, Otis?”

The man—Otis, maybe—who had previously seemed so cocky with his demands, retreated into himself slightly, straightening back up to his full height to meet the eyes of whoever stood behind you.

“You’re not welcome here, Ghoul,” he scowled, “Finders keepers.”

“Well, now, I don’ think y’really in any position to give orders.” It was only now you that wondered whether you were being fought over not out of any sympathetic, weeping heart on behalf of the person behind you, or whether this was a battle for who got to see your blood flow.

“Yeah?” Otis chuckled, “Why’s that?”

You saw the man behind you gesture with his gun in your peripheral. “You got a hole in yo’ neck.”

You watched Otis squint in confusion in the split second before a shot whirred above your head and hit him clean through the throat. He crumpled to the ground, gagging on death, before he let out a damning noise and ceased all movement.

You took deep, shaky breaths, finding the courage to stand up, to turn around and get a good look at your savior.

When you did finally came face level with the man called ‘Ghoul,’ you felt that your initial instinct in referring to a thing behind you had been more apt after all.

His skin was reddened and chapped, marred with scars that covered his face and ran down his neck. He was hairless, as far as you could tell, and his eyes were sunken deep below the ridge where his eyebrows should’ve been. He was decked out in a cowboy costume, long duster to match his Stetson, gun strapped to his hip that paired nicely with his ammo belt.

He had no nose.

Perhaps sensing your discomfort, he smiled, and the thin remnants of his lips cracked open to display yellow teeth. “You ain’t never seen a ghoul before, vaultie?”

You continued to scan his face, and after a few fleeting moments you met his eyes; you couldn’t tell what color they were, if they were hazel or brown or maybe just yellow, muted by the evening, and the shadow cast over his face by the brim of his hat.

No matter the color, you thought they were pretty all the same.

You hesitated, shaking your head.

“Well, ain’t you lucky. Now yo’meetin’ The Ghoul.” His eyes widened, menacing but amused, and you took a step back, nearly stumbling on Otis’s lifeless feet.

“Th—um. Thank you,” you ignored his grandiose introduction, “For…” You gestured behind you.

The Ghoul tipped his hat forward, “Not a problem.” He took a step back, mirroring your movements, “C’mon now. S’dark.”

You made a face, “Oh—no, I…Thank you, for, you know, for helping me out, but I don’t—I’m not really looking for—”

He whistled, and the shrill cut you off, “You really don’know a question if it hit ya in the ribs, sweetheart.” He smirked, “I wasn’t askin’.”

“But I don’t,” you started, watching as he unraveled a rope from his side and tied a knot into it, “I would rather not go with you. I’m—you caught me at a bad time, really, I’m usually just fine by myself.”

“Well…” He tightened the knot, “you keep tellin’ yourself that while we walk.” He swung the rope over his head, and you realized too late that he had been tying a lasso. It came down around your midriff, trapping your hands at your sides when he pulled.

“Hey!” You tried to fight, moving your elbows beneath the constraint and burning your skin in the process.

The Ghoul circled you, stooping down to pick up the gun that had fallen off of Otis’s person, before his face came to peek over your shoulder, cheek to cheek with you. “Hi, there.” He smirked, tugging your restrictions.

~~~

You were used to endless roaming by now. It’s all there was to do; outrun the danger before it could find you, then do the same again when faced with a new conundrum. But the Ghoul walked fast, long strides made tuneful with the help of the spurs on his boots. There was a nice consistency, the metal almost sounded like a lilting voice, though you wished it was less frantic.

You had lost feeling in your fingers, unable to grip your belongings properly, and in a kind gesture that you hadn’t expected from him, the Ghoul hoisted your bag onto his shoulder. You were stiff and sore, and maybe the rope was keeping blood from rushing to your brain, because you couldn’t stop staring at him from behind, watching the way his gloved hand pressed into the bag—your bag—on his hip.

“Where are we going?” You piped up, breaking the silence you’d been stewing in for the past hour. You got no response, so you pushed on. “Where are you taking me?” He didn’t break his stride, pulling you along like the lost puppy you were. You pulled your body against the strain of the rope, digging your heels into the ground and stopping in your tracks. “And what’s a ghoul?”

You watched his shoulders slump as he, too, came to a halt. He let out a sigh, turning around to face you. “Nowhere,” he counted on his fingers as he began to answer your questions in order, “Wherever I go. Me.”

You shifted awkwardly on your feet. “So…you’re the only one?”

“Never said that.” He turned his back to you again. “Y’see that clearin’ there,” he pointed into the distance at a group of rocks sunken into the sand. “That’s your bed t’night.” He started walking again, and you followed suit.

The night cast long shadows over the expansive nothingness, and the air made you shiver. The wind pushed at your hair, which in turn clung to your temples with the excess sweat of the day.

“You aren’t the only one, then,” you kept talking, “Are you—is it the radiation? Or are you a…a people?”

He let out a short chuckle. “The only people left. Far’s I’m concerned.” He skirted around your question, leading you around the rocks and finding a comfortable spot that left you hidden in the darkness. He dropped the rope, tossing your bag to the side as he did so, and you grumbled about how he shouldn’t be so careless with things that weren’t his own. He ignored you, walking over with an expressionless face and deftly tugging the knot from the rope. It fell in a heap around your ankles, and you let out a thankful, happy noise. He tossed a glance your way, eyeing you almost curiously, before beginning to make a small fire at the center of your open-air hideout.

You fell to the ground, exhausted, and addled by the events of the past few hours. You closed your eyes and tilted your head back. The rock behind you may well have been a pillow, the ache in your bones finding comfort in even the most unyielding of resting places.

You opened your eyes tentatively, reluctant to see any more of the Wasteland that you had so callously thought would welcome you with open arms. When you finally blinked up, the blackness of the night blanketed you, and with it, there were stars.

Not stars like the ones on a TV screen. Not stars like the ones behind your eyes after staring into your lamp for too long. Not stars like the ones you drew on your ceiling as a child. Not stars like the ones projected in the common area during a dinner you were told was meant to authentically replicate a Fourth of July celebration.

Real stars.

Gaseous beings that reflected against the sand, lightyears away but close enough to touch, if you could just reach out and grab one; cradle it in your cupped hands and let the fire permeate your palms.

Treat it like a child. Treat it beautifully.

“What’re you lookin’ at,” the Ghoul’s rasp broke you from your existential musings.

You looked forward, finding his sunken eyes across the light of the fire that paled in comparison to the light above you. “If you…if you wanted to kill me, I’m ready now.”

You watched weathered skin stretch taut across his yellowed teeth. You knew it was, perhaps, a bit inappropriate, but for a moment you couldn’t ignore the way the word ‘beautiful’ bounced around your head when you looked at him.

“Not gonna kill ya,” he poked at the fire with a stick, “No good t’me dead.”

“Well then, what?” You lost your filter, uncaring. There were stars in the sky, there was air on your skin, and you didn’t care if you died in the middle of the barren land your ancestors would have once called home. “What good am I to you alive?” You let a laugh out, thin and strained, “Are you just keeping me around so I—so I don’t get lonely?”

He tossed the stick to the side, and the sand caught it with a pathetic thump. “How long you been in them vaults?” He leaned forward.

You made a face, searching for a tone in his gaze. “My whole life,” you scoffed. He knew that.

“’N how long you been up here for?”

You looked away, embarrassed, and tried to hide how you attempted to count the days on your fingers. “I…don’t know…” You gave up.

“You don’ know,” he stared into the fire, “Don’t know shit about lonely.” There was a beat of silence, and the whisper of the wind filled the gap in conversation. He straightened out, meeting your eyes again and smirking as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t just been thrown back to a time when he would’ve come home to a freshly cooked meal and his daughter on his hip and his dog circling his feet. “Plus,” he rustled a hand in his pocket, pulling out an inhaler and taking a puff, “You’ll make good bait.”

“Good bait?” You interrogated him.

“Ya noticed how bad news seems t’follow you round here?” He stretched his arms behind his head, and you felt a sudden heat on your cheeks that you chalked up to sunburn. “Pretty thing like you pro’ly has a whole army o’folks after her. ‘N I’m guessing them folks ain’t the kind you’d like t’hang around.”

“Like you?” You raised a brow, throwing his words back at him.

“You’d like that,” he huffed. “Darlin’, I’m playin’ the oldest game there is: set a trap ‘n the critters will fall into’t.”

You mulled over what he’d said, narrowing your eyes and looking at your hands as you came to your conclusion. “You’re talking about—you’re a bounty hunter…” You looked back up at him, and he was grinning. “And you’re talking about using me as a decoy!” Your posture straightened, and you stared daggers into him.

“Guilty as charged,” he tilted his head at you.

“You can’t do that—I’m not just going to let you do that.” You fumed.

“Don’t have to,” he shrugged, jutting out his lower lip, “Can leave right now, ‘f’ya want.” His features morphed into a grim smirk, “But I don’t think a li’l vaultie like you knows a goddamn thing 'bout what’s waitin’ round the corner.”

You swallowed, trying to form a biting response, but he continued.

“But, hell, f’you wanna risk it…” he put the inhaler back into one of his pockets, “Be my guest, vaultie. Free t’go.”

You huffed, and he smiled. He was right, and you both knew it; left to your own devices, you'd be dead in that town he found you in. You settled into your fate.

“Don’t call me vaultie.” You muttered, tired of the way the seemingly derogatory title had been hurled at you since you first emerged from the safety of your life underground.

“Gonna have to tell me y’name, then,” he tilted his head, waiting. You told him your name, and he laughed. “Look’it that. Friends already.”

“You’re not my friend,” you didn’t know where the venom was coming from; somewhere between him helping you out and him sitting in front of you now, you’d decided he was attractive, charismatic, maybe not the worst company you could be stuck with. But after learning what your new role was, you felt more than a little cheated.

“Damn right I’m not.” He whistled, and you turned away from him, curling into a ball on the ground.

“’M going to sleep,” you grumbled. “Wake me up if you decide to go fishing,” you raised your head for a moment, “You’ll need your lure.”

That got you a real laugh, the first genuine sound you'd heard from him.

And you liked it, despite the ire you felt towards him now.

~~~

You woke up under the blazing sun with sand in your hair. You blinked hard, trying to remember where you were, how you got there, and what had happened to your bag.

Your questions were answered when a shadow engulfed you from above, and you looked up to face the Ghoul.

He had his hat off, letting you gather more evidence to support your belief that he was completely hairless. He stayed quiet, looming over you and watching you groan under the misfortune of wakefulness.

You grunted at him, pushing yourself up to stand, shaking the sand from your body as you did. “You didn’t wake me up last night.”

“You complainin’?” He knit his naked brow.

“No…just, I figured you might want me to keep watch,” you dug sand from your ear, “You trying to tell me that you’re fine just going without sleep?”

“Succeedin’, by the sound of it,” he smirked, and you pursed your lips. “You can stay up as late as ya want next time, darlin’. Don’ let me stop ya.”

“I won’t.” You snatched your bag from his hand and turned to find a way out of the maze of rocks you’d slept in.

He grinned. “Lead on, then.”

And you did, spending several days on a loop; walk, rest, walk, sleep, wake up, pick a direction, repeat. He shared rations and water, he let you sleep when he could’ve forced you to take watch, but he was quiet. It was as if he was so used to life as a predator that he couldn’t even toy with the idea of letting his guard down when there was nobody but you around for miles upon miles. And it wasn't as if you were any threat to him.

It drove you crazy. The benefit that came with having someone like him, skilled and sharp, was greatly dampened by the lack of any real socialization.

You were grateful, at the very least, that it had only taken him a night to decide you no longer needed to be constrained; you liked being able to carry your own things, and, even more, being able to use your own hands. Your arms still felt raw, fading rope burn wounds licking shallowly at your skin under your sleeves, but at least you were free to stretch them now.

The Ghoul stayed several steps behind you when you walked, always keeping his distance but watching closely as you struggled to pretend to know where you were going.

Now, you wiped sweat from your forehead, stopping momentarily to let a cool breeze whip at your face.

“Hell are you doin’ now?” The Ghoul’s dry voice was carried to you by the wind. It was the first thing he’d said to you, unprompted, in two days.

“Feels good,” you sighed, turning to him with your eyes closed and holding your arms out beside you, “The wind. It’s nice.”

“Won’t be in a second.” You opened your eyes to green clouds in the distance behind him. “Because that,” he motioned back at the clouds with his head, “s’a radstorm. And you,” he tipped his hat at you, grazing the brim with his fingers, “Ain’t gonna do too well out in it.”

As if on cue, a bolt of lightning shot down, followed by a loud clap, emphasizing the Ghoul’s words.

“Better have some Rad-X in that bag, sweetheart,” his lips were parted, and you noticed that, although his teeth were yellowed by years of chewing on god knows what, they were remarkably straight. “Oughta get ya under cover.”

You’d heard about radstorms, and assumed, in your naivete, that you’d be able to make it through one without any problems. But the speed at which the disagreeably green clouds approached, and the tone of voice used by your companion, made you feel as though this, too, was something you’d been wrong about.

Maybe you went pale, looking as nauseous as you felt, but then there was a guiding hand on your waist. You jumped, unprepared for any contact and ready to gripe about it, before following the man’s gaze beyond a small sand hill.

“C’mon,” his eyes stayed trained on a ramshackle house just a short distance away, “Can wait it out.”

You nodded, falling over your own feet when he began walking at a brisk pace. The hand he’d placed on the small of your back worked as leverage to get you to hurry up and match his stride.

You closed the door just as the wind started to pick up.

“Woo,” the Ghoul raised his arms above his head, stretching. “S’a nice place we got here.”

You looked around the building; some remaining wallpaper clung to the walls for dear life, there was a couch that looked to be more sand than cushion, and a single table, overturned, in the corner.

“Is it?” You questioned.

“Ya wanna go check outside, see f’ya prefer that?” He challenged, and you backed down, scowling at him.

“How long will the storm last?” You trailed your eyes over the cabin, trying to see if there was anything worth looking at.

There wasn’t.

“An hour,” the Ghoul situated himself on the sofa, “A day. Maybe two.” He took off his hat, fanning himself with it.

“So…we’re stuck here?” You finally let your eyes wander over to him, finding yourself oddly enamored by the way his high, hollow cheekbones framed his face.

“You got somewhere you wanna be?” He stretched his arms over the back of the couch, leaning back and spreading his legs. You blamed the pulse that went through you on radiation, turning away to rummage through your pack for Rad-X.

“Just not much to do.” You swallowed the pill, kicking at a pile of sand that had found its way onto the wooden floor.

“Welcome to the surface, darlin’,” he gestured vaguely, and you rolled your eyes, trying to hide the smile that etched itself onto your lips.

“Doesn’t help that you don’t talk.” You tried to fill the silence that you knew was imminent.

“Talkin’ now,” he shot back, moving his hips from the couch to get properly settled, and you knew you couldn’t blame radiation for the way you squeezed your thighs together.

“Yeah, but,” you acquiesced to your urge to join him on the old sofa, “I’ve known you for less than a week, and even I can tell it’s a rarity.”

“Maybe I just don’t like you,” he smirked, putting his hat back on, and you frowned at him.

“Then you wouldn’t be keeping me around for company.”

“Bait,” he corrected you.

“Call it what you want,” you let your head fall back onto the couch, “Still choosing to keep me around.” You waited anxiously to see if he would point out that it was you who had taken the opportunity to stick with him, after his vague threat of what loomed in the wastes made you back down from your plan to run that first night.

You closed your eyes, listening to the storm batter the house outside. He took the moment to look at you, analyzing your features. He took in the positive glow that reflected off of you, yet to be rubbed off by the experiences you were sure to have.

Maybe he’d be able to buy you some time. Maybe that glow wouldn’t fade.

“Sure,” he nodded, “Whatever y’wanna tell yourself.”

You nudged his knee with yours. It was an adolescent approach, something you would’ve done during classes; playing footsie with the boy you thought was cute, with his hair slicked back and his vault suit pressed and tidy. Something done for attention, in the hopes that maybe he’d take even the smallest of hints and return the childish gesture of affection.

The Ghoul was not pressed and tidy. But, and you were slowly admitting it to yourself, he was cute.

You couldn’t see yourself ever admitting it to him.

“You never answered my question yesterday,” you realized now was as good a time as any to quiz him, stuck with you while the storm raged. “What’s a ghoul?”

“Yes, I did,” he had let his eyes close, too, “I am.”

“That’s not a good answer.” You tsked, “I wanna know—I want the real answer,” you moved to sit on your knees, “Give me the real answer.”

He opened his eyes, scanning you up and down. “Yer damn good bait, sweetheart,” he nodded, giving in and facing you. You thought maybe he was paying you a compliment, but you swallowed the urge to ask him what he meant. “I don’t know what to tell ya other than I am a ghoul.”

“Why?” You pressed.

“Why’d’ya think?” He countered, “Case you didn’t notice, we ain’t in one o’your underground lairs. Radiation’s gonna get us all, and when it does,” he leaned forward, “Y’gonna look just like me.”

You swallowed, unsure if this was a threat or a warning. You looked down at his gloved hands, then back up at him. “Does it hurt?”

His expression was blank. You continued.

“Your—is it your skin?” You tried to clarify, “Does it hurt?”

His expression gradually changed to one of confusion as he processed your words; nobody had ever asked him something as simple as that. “Don’t hurt. f’I get shot…stings for a sec, but…y’get used to it.”

“So, you can’t really feel it?”

“Oh,” he let out a low chuckle, “I can feel it. Where it counts.”

You stuck out your tongue, and heat crept over the back of your neck. “Don’t be crude.”

“Ain’t try’na be,” he smiled, “You’re the one whose mind’s wanderin’.”

“So it just feels like skin?” You changed the subject, “Or is it more like muscle…or scar tissue?” Without thinking, you raised your hand and extended it forward, curiosity getting the best of you. He caught your wrist in his hand, the leather on his fingers pressing softly into your bone. You gasped, and he looked at you, cautious, fingers shifting on your skin. As if in slow motion, he raised your hand to his face, and you stretched out two fingers to ever so gently graze down his cheek.

His breath caught in his throat, startled by the intimacy of having someone touch him just to touch him. To feel him.

Similarly, you’d stopped breathing all together.

His skin was ridged and rough, but the small grooves between the scarred flesh were smooth, almost downy. You didn’t look him in the eyes, though you could sense his as they bore into you. You chose to examine the rest of his face instead, the bumps and scars and jagged edges that your hand ghosted over. Finally, you gave in, looking into his eyes for only a brief moment.

He had eyelashes. Small lashes, barely noticeable beneath his hat and the sunken hollows of his eyes, but they were definitely there. He looked pretty, this small part of him capturing some kind of hidden essence of humanity underneath his daunting character. The tiny detail had caught you off guard more than the act of being allowed to touch him had, and your fingers faltered, stuttering against his skin.

You let your hand go limp in his grip, and he let you retract it.

“So?” He questioned after a beat.

“What?”

“What’d’t feel like?”

“Oh,” you remembered what had led you to the opportunity to touch him in the first place, “Scar tissue.” You landed on, easier to say that than trying to explain that you thought his skin was as comfortable as velvet to drag your fingers across.

He lifted a brow, nodding in approval.

“How come you don’t have a nose?” More questions bubbled from your throat before you could stop them, eager to force the tension in the atmosphere to dissipate.

“God almighty, y’ask a lot of fuckin’ questions,” he wiped a hand down his face, “Decades of radiation ain’t forgivin’ on cartilage.”

“Decades?” You narrowed your eyes playfully.

“Don’t you go askin’ more, now,” he chided, “Ain’t polite to ask someone their age, they not teach you that down there?”

You dropped it for now. “You still have ears. Those are cartilage.”

“Not part of the original model.” He smirked, and when he saw you tilt your head, confused, he took a deep breath and continued, “Sometimes, darlin’, ya gotta use what ya find.”

Your eyes went wide, “They’re—you stole body parts?” Your eyes narrowed again, “You’re lying.”

He didn’t answer verbally, just shot a devious smile your way.

“How come I can’t see your brain?” You bounced to your next question.

“Would ya like to?” He shot back, and you cringed. “Didn’t think so.”

“But how come—”

“Jesus Christ,” he dipped his hand into his pocket, pulling out his inhaler and taking two short puffs, “Can I get a word in, here?”

You let your next question die in your mouth, shelving it for later. You nodded.

“Why’d you come up here?” The Ghoul’s voice took a softer edge, and you couldn’t tell if he was mocking you or if he had some genuine interest in your case.

Either way, you thought it was improper, and you shook your head, barely enough for it to be noticeable. You’d been trying to ask the obvious questions, things you were certain he was asked all the time, that he’d have answers for at the ready. You hadn’t asked about his life, how he got out here or why he dressed like a goddamn gunslinger. You could’ve, but you were trying to be at least a little bit polite.

“That’s not fair.” You said simply.

“Alright, how come you got a nose,” he smirked, letting his words hang in the air before they dropped at his feet when he saw the way your demeanor had changed on a dime. “Now, look—I didn’t mean to make y'upset, sweetheart—”

“I, uh…” You took a long breath, gearing up for the challenge of communicating a logical answer. “…Do you ever sit somewhere so nice for so long, and then after a while you start thinking that it’s too good to be true?” You looked up at him, and the tears in your eyes were evident, “Like, maybe you sat on something, or the whole time there was a snake in the grass right next to you...or something?”

The Ghoul watched your face intently, hardly nodding.

“And even though the snake didn’t lunge at you, or, you know, you got to enjoy the peace and quiet before getting up and noticing you sat on something, it’s like, you’re flooded with these what ifs about what would’ve happened if you’d been sitting just a second longer…” You were looking at him, but you weren’t, really; your eyes went right through him, and you pictured a time when you thought nothing could ever go wrong. “Or if you’d never sat there at all.” You blinked, shaking your head, and you wiped a tear that had dared to breach over your lash line. “I had to get up, right? Outfit was stained…and I could see the snake getting ready to…make quick work of me.”

You cradled your chin in your hands, trying to control your breathing so you wouldn’t have to subject yourself to the embarrassment of crying in front of someone that likely wouldn’t care.

Your explanation echoed in the Ghoul’s mind. He thought about his divorce, that dumb fucking suit he’d been conned into wearing without really knowing what it meant.

A snake and a stain. He understood.

“Ain’t no snakes up here,” he tried his hand at reassuring you, “Can’t promise y’won’t get dirty, though.”

“I know,” you sniffed, “Got blood on me already.” You knew it was stupid to complain about, but you didn’t even know whose blood it was.

“There’ll be more,” he sighed, “But you’ll care less.”

You let yourself laugh softly. “Yeah,” you wiped your eyes, “Yeah. I hope you’re right.”

“I tend to be.” He smirked, back to his carefree, cocky demeanor. You rolled your eyes weakly, laughing quietly, and you found yourself leaning against him. His shoulder was stiff beneath your head, like he wasn’t sure how to hold himself in the situation that you’d put him in. You turned your head slightly, nosing his neck, and he didn’t stop you, though he stayed rigid.

You let yourself breathe him in; arid and smoky, the leather of his clothes mingling with the scent of sun that clung to his skin. There was something else, a note of iron buried under the warmer scents, the cold bouquet of dry blood. Having death flood your nose like that, you recognized, probably should’ve been alarming, perhaps even petrifying. But it wasn’t—not on him.

You liked it.

You sat back up, your face close to his, and if he had a nose, you were sure it would be touching your own. He didn’t look upset as his eyes darted over your face, which felt reassuring, even though you already knew you hadn’t really done anything wrong.

“Y’hear that?” He muttered.

“What?” You turned your head, trying to listen for whatever he was hearing.

“Storm stopped,” he cracked a small smile at you, and you breathed a sigh of relief. He stood up, making his way over the floor. “C’mon, darlin’,” he gestured to the door, “See if we can catch ourselves a rainbow.”

You let out a real, honest to god laugh. It gave you a hint of whiplash, how the Ghoul had managed to save your life, make you hate him, and then make you want to kiss him in such rapid succession over the course of only a few days.

You found yourself suddenly aloof to the idea that he was threatening to use you as a lure for unsuspecting bounties. He was keeping you around, keeping you safe, and you liked him just fine.

Maybe even a little more than that.

~~~

How far, at this point, had you walked? Miles of ground in front of you, miles of ground behind you. It felt like you’d gone nowhere, despite the thousands of steps you’d taken over the course of the week. You were going nowhere, you reminded yourself; aimlessly trekking across the Wasteland and finding what there was to find, looking at what there was to look at.

The Ghoul didn’t seem to have a job at the moment. He’d made it clear that he was employed—if you could call being a bounty hunter a regular nine-to-five—but he hadn’t made any moves to imply that he was searching for anybody, or anything, unless you were to count the vials and chems he ransacked from every hole and hovel he came across.

He continued to surprise and delight, and occasionally disgust, you. You’d seen him eat the raw flesh of dead and desiccated creatures—some that looked human—off the sand. (“Remember what I said, ‘bout usin’ whatcha find?” “That’s disgusting, you don’t know what kind of germs could be crawling around there.” “Think someone that looks like me’s worried ‘bout germs, sweetheart?”) You’d seen him draw a weapon faster than you could take a breath; you’d seen him kill a man without blinking.

But you were wowed by him all the same, the rasp of his voice and the way he whistled through his teeth, the life behind his eyes that teemed with stories of a past you hadn’t been able to shake out of him yet. You hadn’t touched him, had barely closed the often yard-wide gap between the two of you that had become the unspoken norm, since the day the radstorm hit.

Maybe it was for the best. What would your family say about him? They'd be disgusted, horrified by the mere thought of him.

That just made you want him more.

“Can we stop soon?” You withdrew yourself from your thoughts, tired of the way your muscles tensed with every step. The Ghoul didn’t respond, side-eyeing you from beneath his hat. “I’m tired. My legs hurt.” He smirked, and you thought you heard him huff a laugh, but the distance between you was too vast to pick up on the smaller sounds. “Don’t laugh at me, I can’t help you if I can’t move.”

That got his attention. “Y'think you’re helpin’ me?” He smiled.

“Not burdening you…” You argued about what he’d left unsaid.

“Not doin’ much work, either.” He grunted, and you shot him a dirty look. “Keep on walkin’, darlin’.”

“I don’t want to.” You stomped your foot, regressing into the same shielded, spoiled vault-dweller you knew he thought you were.

“Then how ya gonna get over there’?” He nodded forward, and you followed the direction of his gesture, squinting to see a large, semi-burnt down storefront. “C’mon, sweetheart.” He kept walking, picking up his pace and forcing you to speed up after him. “Y’wanna break, or what?”

The building was in alright condition, as far as the other spaces you’d seen; the windows were broken, the glass finding its way to the ground and becoming sand after what must have been centuries of effort. Someone had started a fire, and ash flaked off the brick. You forced yourself on tired limbs to close the distance between yourself and shelter.

“Go on,” the Ghoul leaned against the doorframe of the store’s entrance, “Check it out.”

“You’re not coming?” You whispered. You knew he wasn’t. This, too, had become common: you were sent in—bait—and he followed behind you at a distance to keep an eye out on who- or whatever might jump out.

He stayed quiet, showing his teeth, and you pouted at him, making your way deeper into the old store.

There was no electricity, but the sun seeped through the cracks in the walls as it began to dip in the sky, creating an almost cozy ambiance. It was huge, the ceilings were high and the store itself must have once housed a near infinite amount of material goods.

You’d be lucky now if you could find a corner that hadn’t already been raided.

Everything was bathed in grays and blues, and you couldn’t tell if it was just the way your eyes adjusted to the dim light, or if the building had been standing for so long that the color had drained out into the desert. Either way, it was eerie, and your finger trembled on the trigger of the rusted pistol the Ghoul had given you as a means of self-preservation. You didn’t really know how to use it, but it was the principle of the thing, you figured.

You maneuvered your way around spent bullet casings and glass, trying to stay silent despite the echo of your footsteps. You heard spurs behind you, the Ghoul following your trail at a safe distance. There was a clamoring, something further into the building down a dark hall that sounded like machinery groaning. You jumped, and the gun in your hand slipped from your grip, sliding across the floor with a harsh skid.

You froze, wincing, and listening for any sign that you’d been heard. The sound of the Ghoul’s steps behind you had also stopped, and you knew then that you’d fucked up—if he was listening, waiting the way you were, then there was cause for alarm. With your heart beating in your ears, you bent forward, fingers creeping across the floor until you managed to get a grip on the tarnished metal of the gun. Standing with a sigh, you worked on regulating your breathing, trying to ease the way your heart beat in your ears.

And then you heard the snap of glass shattering, the rhythm of voices without any real words besides grunts and snarls. You jumped, and your back hit a wall with an unceremonious thump before you fell to your knees.

The sources of the noise approached, surrounding you and leaving you with no route out. You looked straight ahead at withered limbs, clothing torn around ankles and skin peeling off of bone.

And when you looked up, it was him.

Except it wasn’t, not really; the Ghoul was only one man, and before you stood four. All similarly scarred, with broken teeth and missing noses, but there was no individuality—no light in their eyes to tip you off as to who they may have been, once upon a time. The sounds they made were inhuman, screeches that seemed torn from their lungs, maybe due to pain, maybe due to joy, you couldn’t tell. And as they circled you, you didn’t want to find out.

You fumbled with your pistol, unsure of whether the safety was on or off. Your aim was unsteady, and the darting movements of the figures that crowded you made it even more difficult to find a proper target. You winced, aiming at a leg and pulling the trigger.

There was a bang, but it didn’t come from your weapon.

“Gotta do all th’fuckin’ work,” you heard the Ghoul, snide and confident even despite the gravity of the situation. He shot to kill, quick to find weakness, and chuckling when they fell in heaps atop their own feet.

You watched him kick at a corpse. The noise subsided as he holstered his weapon, but you had covered your ears and were unwilling to remove your hands.

“Hell was that?” The Ghoul was standing in front of you now, his voice muffled through your palms. You stared past him at the bodies on the ground, at one point daring to let your eyes dart from the deceased to the man who killed them and back; the similarities were glaring, and it made bile rise to the back of your mouth, fighting your throat’s constriction as you choked down tears.

And suddenly you were sobbing, pulse beating hard against your skin and sweat collecting on your back. You felt sick, you felt scared—maybe even betrayed. You were panicking, unable to breathe or speak or think, only aware of the fact that you were utterly terrified.

“Well, now—hey,” You’d uncovered your ears, wrapping your arms around your knees and squeezing them to your chest, letting the Ghoul’s voice travel to you with more ease.

“Y—” you felt like you were hyperventilating, “You.” Trying to voice your concerns proved difficult in this state.

The Ghoul watched on, the muscle in his jaw tightening as he debated what to do.

He didn’t like you like this. He liked you feisty and stubborn, chatty and glowing. In the dark light of the building, splattered with feral blood and choking on your own breath, you were far from what he’d gotten used to. It startled him a little, not the image of you crying—he’d seen you cry before, and he'd seen far worse from others—but the knowledge that, to an extent, it was his fault.

And he could blame his response on the part of him that still felt shame, something that morphed into a nagging urge to defend himself against accusations of being a downright monster. But he knew, deep down somewhere, that it was because of the part of him that still felt compassion; empathy, even fondness, for you.

That’s why he sat next to you, sliding his back down against the wall while you spluttered and coughed through tears.

He eased the old pistol away from you, pushing it into a crack in the wall and cursing himself for letting you have it in the first place. You’d be better off without it; he’d do all he could to keep you protected.

“Not me, darlin’,” he kept his voice low, “Ferals. Of which I am not one…” Yet, he could’ve mentioned, but even he could choose denial.

“They look—had your face.” You heaved, rocking back slightly.

“You really think I’m that ugly?” He laughed, but you remained despondent, painted with a thousand-yard stare. He took on a different approach. “Listen, now. C’mon, sweetheart, look.” He draped a hand over your shoulder, and despite the loose, open-ended nature of the touch, you felt significantly more grounded. “’Member how I said this face’ll be everybody’s someday?”

You nodded, remembering his jab at your question during the radstorm. Your heartbeat wailed against your skull.

“’N then, someday…” He hadn’t experienced difficulty in picking his word choice like this since trying to answer Janey’s question about where babies came from. “Someday it all turns to shit. You turn into a—a nameless drop in the bucket.” He said, frankly. “But it’s, uh…it’s preventable, to an extent.”

“You don’t have a name.” You stared at him, skin blotchy and eyes swollen. It broke his heart a little. “You already don’t have a name.”

“Happens to the best ‘f us.” He tamped down the stutter in his chest, finding a way to circumvent your unspoken question. "All ghouls, eventually...go a little feral."

“All ghouls turn feral…” You repeated the moral of his story, and he nodded.

He fished a vial from him pocket, holding it out to you. “Long as I got these, I’ll be jus’ peachy.”

You let him drop the vial in your hand, looking at the off-color liquid inside of it and squeezing it in your palm. “I don’t want…” You let go of the glass, holding it back out to him. “I don’t want it to happen to you.”

“Makes two of us,” he put the vial back into his pocket, sighing. “But I got plenty o’these, ‘n there’s always more t'be found.”

You stayed quiet, letting your limbs finally relax and spreading your legs out in front of you. There was a long pause that you spent calming your heart rate, letting your lungs relax.

“I like you the way you are.” You whispered, and it was those words that finally made him own his feelings; the way you are. Not the way you were, not who you could’ve been or who you were meant to be. You appreciated him as he was, and it was the first time in more than two centuries that he had felt any sense of warmth from another living thing. It was the first time in just as long that he’d felt like a man and not a monstrosity.

It was why he didn’t fight it when you wrapped yourself around him, arms tugging him down into a tight hug. He scoffed at the display of what he assumed—hoped—was affection, but he let his arms circle your body.

Your face pressed into his neck, firmer than the brief moment you’d shared on the couch, and you breathed him in now just as you had then; the heat and the tin of his skin, the leather of his duster, and the iron of his ammo belt that dug into your front. He was softer now, malleable to your touch, unlike the stiff, unmoving man he’d been when you leaned up against him all those weeks ago.

He rested his chin on the crown of your head, taking a long, deep breath. “’N I like you much more when you ain’t blubberin’ like a goddamn newborn.”

You giggled, knowing that it was the closest he'd get to telling you that he cared, even a little bit.

“The stars,” you mumbled against him, and he pulled back, trying to look down at your face.

“What’s’at?”

“That first night, outside. You asked me what I was looking at,” you explained, “And I told you that you could kill me if you wanted, instead of just answering you. But I was looking at the stars…” You sighed, settling back against the wall.

He scoffed. “Jus’ stars.”

“No.” You argued, “Not just stars. They’re everything.” You tilted your head at him, and he accepted with a shrug.

He let his head loll back, removing his hat and scanning the surroundings. He caught a glimpse of something in his peripheral, a wide crack in the upper part of the wall that let the night seep in. He elbowed you, nodding his chin in the direction of the hole that opened the building to the sky.

“Look‘t that.” He smiled at the way you lit up next to him, and he followed your gaze to appreciate the view in silence with you.

Comfortable next to him, centimeters replacing the usual feet between you, you saw life in the stars the same way you saw life behind his eyes. And he didn’t understand your excitement, until he looked hard enough and saw the same shimmer in the sky that he saw in you.

“Cooper.” He mumbled, still looking at the stars. You turned to him, lips parted in preparation to ask what he was talking about. “My name. I got one—Cooper.”

You smiled, an inexplicable sense of tranquility washing over you as the new knowledge settled in your brain. “Cooper.” You said, testing the weight of the letters on your tongue.

“Don’t go usin’ it up. Make me regret tellin’ ya,” he smirked, trying to hide his satisfaction upon hearing you say his name behind a veneer of callousness. “Got a reputation t’keep.”

You breathed deep, not quite a yawn but more than a sigh. “I know, Cooper.” You rested your head on his shoulder, not to test the waters or attempt a romantic gesture; it was just pleasant to experience something quiet, personal, like this. “I know.”

~~~

“Christ, you sleep like a fuckin’ rock.” His voice was the first thing you registered when you opened your bleary eyes. Your neck was stiff, your cheeks felt crusty with the residue of dry tears, and the floor was crooked. You’d fallen asleep on him, perched just under his shoulder, and he’d let you. “Snore, too.”

“Yeah, well,” you sat up, rolling your neck and wincing at the cracks that sounded from your joints as you stretched, “Sleep comes easy when I have my guard dog watching out for me.”

He scoffed, a small smile forming on his lips. “Don’ expect me to bark for ya, sweetheart.”

“All you do is bark.” You rolled your eyes, beginning to find the motivation to stand.

“S’not true,” there was a glint in his eye that you couldn’t read into fully, “Could bite ‘f’I wanted.”

You’d seen him land a shot without so much as glancing at his target. He was telling the truth.

You sighed, finally standing. You folded yourself over your front, touching your toes and trying to loosen the knots in your back. “Well, Coop,” you straightened, “Can I call you Coop?” You second guessed your courage, unsure of whether or not he’d take kindly to you shortening the name he’d only just entrusted you with.

“You my fuckin’ publicist?” He quirked a brow up at you, recalling the dozens of conversations he’d had that had begun just like this.

“I should be,” you straightened out, rolling your shoulders and shooting him a grin. “You could use one.”

He scowled at you. “Y’gotta question or what?”

“What now?” You shook out your limbs lazily.

“What now?” He echoed your words. He stayed on the floor, legs in front of him crossed at his ankles. “What’ya mean, darlin’?”

You didn’t really know what you meant; usually it was him calling the shots, but he seemed to be waiting for some kind of prompt. “You know, I mean…what should we…do…today?” You spoke slowly.

“Today?” He laughed, “Today…sweetheart, today’s come ‘n gone.”

You knit your brow, confused, and he pointed in the direction of the crack in the ceiling. It was still dark—dark again if you understood him correctly.

“You let me sleep all day?” The notion made you feel a bit frantic for some reason, having grown accustomed to sleeping for barely four hours at a time over the past few weeks. His constant need of movement made it hard to rest easy.

“You needed it,” he shrugged, picking at a spot on his duster.

And you had needed it, but the idea that he had let you doze for what was, as far as you could tell, close to a full twenty-four hours was more than a little puzzling; that he had let you sleep on him for the duration is what really threw you for a loop. Maybe the fact that you knew him by name made him nervous. Maybe it made him nervous enough to let you make decisions for the both of you now, for fear of the fallout.

Or, and much less likely, you thought, but much more appealing: maybe he just wanted to let you rest. Because you needed it. And he didn’t mind acting as a placeholder for a pillow.

The butterflies in your stomach made haste upwards in your body and settled in your heart.

“I did.” You deflated a little. Regardless of any reason behind why this had happened, you still felt guilty about making him lose the span of an entire day that could have been spent wandering in whatever direction called to him. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “Ain’t got a reason to be.”

“I made you—”

“Didn’t make me do a goddamn thing, sweetheart.” He ground his teeth together, jaw swaying back and forth.

“We could be somewhere else by now.” You tried to argue, squaring your shoulders.

“Got nowhere to be.”

His words were spoken with a sense of finality, and you knew when to back down.

“I been thinkin’,” he piped up again when you got quiet. He finally made the move to stand; he winced as he bent his knees, his body having grown accustomed to staying in the same position for so long.

“About?” You watched him stretch.

“You still wanna wear that?” He waved his chin at your figure, forcing you to examine the tattered sleeves of your vault suit that were caked in dirt and debris—and more than likely a few pints of blood from various donors. “Just—seems like more of a hindrance than anything.”

“It’s fine.” You sneered at him, unsure of why you decided to get defensive. It was a creature comfort, of sorts, and while it certainly got the wrong kind of attention out in the open, getting rid of it felt like stripping yourself of the only identity you’d ever really had.

And he knew that, which is why he had voiced his thought. Not only was it something people would use—and they had used it—against you, but it was obstructing your ability to move on completely. He felt a sense of responsibility in ensuring that you managed to maintain a level of dignity in your soul searching.

“It’s hangin’ off o'you in shreds.” He continued, and you shifted on your feet. You couldn’t deny that any emotional connection to your outfit was outweighed by discomfort of the holes and tears it had collected. You bit your cheek, looking down at the floor and back at him in silent acknowledgement of his point. “Y’gotta change o’clothes in that bag?” He grinned, and you frowned.

“No...” There was no use now in coming up with any snark retorts. He licked his top teeth, staring at you “So, what?” You tried to find his point, “You want me to strip down and wander around naked?” If he asked you to, it was more than likely that you would obey without a second thought. By now, you knew better than to feel disgust for confessing things of this nature to yourself. But even so, you knew this admission was probably not a good reflection of the unrelentingly self-contained attitude you tried to show him.

Not to mention that nobody had ever so much as seen you without a shirt on, let alone the whole nine yards.

He bit back any response that might expose the interest he had in your suggestion, though he raked his gaze up and down over your body, smirking, before sucking his teeth and shaking his head. “We’re in a fuckin’ store.” His eyes finally met yours, and you stared back at him blankly. “Full ‘f clothes.” He continued, and you understood.

“There’s nothing left,” you spread your arms out for emphasis, gesturing to the run-down remains of gutted shops.

“Ooh, I bet ya there is.” He turned on his heels, taking long strides that had you jogging to catch up with him as he made his way down a corridor and towards a defunct escalator.

The sound of his boots against the tile floor echoed across the building, and even despite your long period of rest, you felt sluggish and unprotected; your back was an easy target, and with every click of his heel you found yourself turning your head, peering back into nothing, just in case.

“Nobody here,” Cooper noticed the constant swivel of your neck, “Relax.”

“How do you know?” You tried to cement your gaze forward.

“Would’a heard.”

“That’s—you can’t expect to hear people coming in this building, it’s huge.”

“Can hear you,” he gave you a pointed look, and you quieted yourself. “Here we go.” He nodded to a heap at the far end of the open space you’d found yourselves in. You squinted at the pile, and you could make out individual shapes and parts.

Bodies. Stacked atop one another as they wasted away into soggy organic matter. You began to make out whole people, some fresh enough that they could still leave an identifiable fingerprint.

“Cooper,” you froze, shoulders rigid and eyes wide in fear and disgust, “I don’t—”

“C’mon now, sweetheart,” he walked right up to the collection of putrefying bodies, bending down to peel a strand of flesh from a bloated arm that flopped out of the mass. “Clothes for you, meal for me.” He smirked, rolling the loose skin in his fingers before putting it in his mouth.

You sucked your lips into your teeth; the primal actions he often displayed made you feel pure in a way you wanted to rinse yourself of, shower in the wild side.

But only if he was the one scrubbing.

You shook your head. “This is the best you could do?”

“Tailor’s outta town,” he sneered, “Could’a just said thank you.”

“I—no, I respect the…attempt…” You dug your toe into the worn floor.

“But…” Cooper tilted his forehead at you, picking skin from his teeth with his tongue.

“But this is gross. Come on, even you know this is gross.” You crossed your arms, peering up at him beneath knit brows.

“Use what’cha find.” He said simply, reiterating his mantra. You huffed, letting him have the final word.

You rounded the pile of bodies, looking out from behind Cooper as he sorted through the gore to find a suitable mark for his next move. He let out a triumphant noise when he turned over a man who was yet to begin the latter process of autolysis, providing the ability to smoothly undress him.

“This feels wrong.” You grit out when Cooper had removed the corpse’s overshirt. “This goes against—this is unethical.”

“You wanna change o’clothes or not?” Cooper rolled his eyes, and you piped down.

Despite your protests, spoken and cringed, you continued to watch as the body was stripped of its earthly possessions. Shirt, shoes—lucky bastard even had socks. Cooper tossed them all your way, throwing the clothes over his shoulder and at your chest. When he reached to undo the man’s belt, you felt your chest tighten; it wasn’t discomfort, per se, but it wasn’t anything pleasant, either. Something about seeing someone naked for the first time in this context made you feel melancholic. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, both in the sense that you felt that you were invading the privacy of the dead, but also in the more selfish sense that you felt it would be ruining something for you.

You turned around, trying to find something else to stare at instead of following the Ghoul’s hands as they roamed over the corpse for any hidden gems. He didn’t notice your movement, holding the jeans he’d unfastened from the dead man behind his shoulder to pass on to you.

“What the hell’re you doin’?” He turned to face the back of your head after a minute of shaking the denim at you. “Don’ tell me you decided t’get squeamish now, darlin’.”

You turned around to swipe the pants from his hands. “Not squeamish,” you started walking away, scouting out an area that would offer some seclusion, “You’re just being gross.”

“Me?” He feigned shock.

You stopped walking, turning to face him, rolling the skin of your cheeks between your teeth. “Come on…smells bad.”

Cooper waved you off, unsheathing a dagger and butchering a nearly unidentifiable limb off of a corpse. He flopped the meat over his shoulder, putting the dagger back into the sleeve it had been pulled from. After fiddling for a few more moments with the bodies, discovering two more vials of his precious chem in threadbare pockets, he held the carved appendage out to you; he swayed it as if it were part of his own arm, urging you forward. You scoffed, turning to walk away, staying several steps ahead of him.

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

~~~

You had to hand it to him, Cooper knew how to scavenge; the clothes he’d taken off the body were only slightly too big on you. It was nothing rolling the cuffs up and tearing off some excess fabric couldn’t fix. You felt less constricted—free to move about without the limitations, both physical and mental, of your ruined vault suit.

“Couple holes.” You ducked out of the old storage room you’d found to change in and made your way back to the Ghoul. He’d started a campfire on the linoleum flooring, and you didn’t question how or why.

“You’ll live.” He tore chunks of flesh from the decomposing arm he’d procured. “Better than what ya had.” You watched as he rotated the meat clumsily over the fire with his hands, barely giving it enough time to rise back to living temperatures before taking it off the flame to gnaw from the bone.

“Yeah,” there was no point in arguing. He was right, and you felt silly for finding issues with what you supposed he might consider a gift.

You sat next to him in silence, knees grazing but not creating any real tension. Something about him was so much more reassuring now, a sort of consolation to being stuck in a world so far from what you’d imagined, than just the mysterious man with no nose or empathy that you’d pegged him for that first day.

Even if he was noseless, you tried not to laugh at your internal monologue, he definitely had more feelings than he let on—he cared and commiserated and let you sleep for way too long.

And you felt safe in a way you’d never felt safe before; far from any made-up threat you’d been taught to watch for in the vault, faced with genuine danger for the first time in your life, you still felt that, somehow, by his side, no harm would come to you.

It was more than a feeling. It was a fact.

You stared, unashamed, as he continued to take bites out of the disembodied arm. Cooper glanced at you from his peripheral and slowed his chewing, daring you to say something.

“What’s it taste like?” You finally gave in.

“We playin’ twenty questions again?” He shot back, swallowing what was in his mouth and throwing what was now mostly bone and muscle to the side.

“Is it like regular meat?” You pushed on, ignoring his quip.

“Y’ever had reindeer?” Cooper leaned back on his hands, and with his face only a few inches from yours, the position felt oddly intimate.

“No…” You tilted your head.

“Gamey,” he explained, “Like beef.” He smiled, “Course the flavor, it varies…person to person.”

“Funny.” You stuck your tongue between your teeth. You still thought it was gross, but you couldn’t deny that he made even cannibalism a light subject.

“Yeah? My turn now.” He sat up, “Why’d you get weird ‘round the bodies back there?”

“I was weird with the bodies?” You tried to play dumb.

“Got all prissy.”

“Did not.”

“Oh, yes y’did.”

“You were being disgusting…”

“When am I not?” He pointed out, grinning, and you conceded with a small smile and a nod of your head. “Cmon sweetheart…did it really bother you to see me doin all’at?” He seemed genuinely puzzled by you in this moment. You looked away, staring at your thumbs as you twiddled them in your lap. He took a chance, gloved fingers coming up to your chin and brushing your skin ever so gently. He refocused your gaze on him. “…Cause I won’t do it no more if it makes y’feel…weird.”

“No. it’s not…” You took a deep breath. Maybe it was stupid to get sensitive about it, maybe it was stupid to feel strange about the situation in the first place. You doubted that anybody in the Wasteland ever thought twice about seeing another person’s body—dead or alive. “I’ve just never seen anybody naked before.”

Cooper’s hand dropped from your face and into his lap. “Y’fuckin serious?” He grinned, “You’re kidding.” He was clearly on the verge of laughter, whether from amusement or shock, you couldn’t tell.

“No, I—look. I know it’s not a big deal, it’s probably not something people even think about up here. But it felt—something about seeing another person naked when they’re not…like, when they’re completely lifeless and unaware, it felt wrong to do that.” He didn’t respond, so you continued, “And honestly, it probably sounds insane, or, at the very least, maybe, a little selfish, but I felt like it was wrong because it would be stripping them of a choice, but it would also be stripping me of any choice. You know? Like, maybe it doesn’t matter to everybody else out here, but I’d like to…I mean, I want it to matter as much as it can, at this rate.” You sucked in a breath, deciding that you were done with your rant.

The Ghoul stared at you, his eyes wide but his bald brow knit in an obvious combination of delight and curiosity.

“You never seen a naked body before?” He tried to make his voice come out evenly, hiding his amusement.

“I…never like…” you failed to think of something that might lessen the blow of your revelation, “Not really, no.”

He let out a whistle, shaking his head. “Hell are y’all doin’ in the vaults if you’re not fuckin’?” It was rhetorical, you knew that, but you still felt defensive.

“There’s plenty to do.” The words came out flat, and you laughed nervously to lighten your tone.

He chuckled. “I bet.” He sucked his teeth, letting his eyes flicker over you again. There was a pregnant pause. Dead air hung between the two of you while you tried to ignore his gaze, opting to pick at a loose thread on your new shirt.

“Plenty to do…” You tried to steer the conversation somewhere—anywhere—that would help ease the tension.

“Yeah,” Cooper let his head loll back, “Let’s hear it, then.”

You scooted back on your hands to give yourself the room to properly face him, situating yourself a foot away to allow for the physical space to think.

“Movies to watch and…chores to do…” You tried to think of anything worthwhile you’d done growing up in the vaults but found yourself coming up dry. “Sometimes there were, you know…events.”

“’N you never found yourself at one o’those events with some arm candy?” He was taunting you, and he wouldn’t be ashamed to admit that he was getting a sort of sadistic thrill out of seeing you squirm under his playful interrogation.

“Slim pickings.” You huffed, staring into the fire.

“I’ll be,” he smirked, “For someone so sure of herself, you ain’t seen nothin’, have ya?” He was thinking out loud, analyzing you to your face.

You felt the need to correct him, both out of self-preservation, but also because, and this was a bigger reason than you cared to own up to, you wanted him to know that you weren’t scared of anything—especially not the thing he was implying.

Maybe you were naïve, but you weren’t stupid.

“Don’t really need another person to have a good time.” You made a point to catch his line of sight, eyes holding his as you tilted your head against your shoulder.

The Ghoul whistled, long and low. “Well, now. Talk about self-sufficient.”

You felt heat rise in your face, dappling your neck with a rosy veil. “I’m not stupid, Cooper. I know what you’re talking about.”

“What am I talkin’ ‘bout, darlin’?” He goaded, fingers toying with a button beneath his collar.

“Just cause I’m a virgin doesn’t mean I’m some sort of—I dunno, some sort of…poor shrinking violet who can’t figure it out,” your heart was in your throat now, afraid to take the conversation too far but so desperate to get a reaction out of him. “I know how to…to, you know…” You let your voice fade, chickening out when he failed to change his facial expression.

There was another long stretch of silence. Cooper let his head fall forward, arms coming to rest, folded, over his stomach, as he anticipated the end of your sentence. When you didn’t come out with it, he prodded you verbally.

“Know how’ta what?” He grinned, yellow teeth on display and tongue darting between them in a movement you were sure he wasn’t even conscious of. He leaned forward further, moving his face towards you without actually budging an inch from his spot on the floor. “You don’t know how to deal with death, how t’use a gun—y’barely even know when you’re too tired to stand…” His tongue pushed through the crack in his top and bottom rows of teeth, wetting his lips. “But ya expect me t’believe that y’know how to make yourself cum?” He let his tongue rest on his bottom lip before closing his mouth, sneering mischievously. There was a bright speck of something in his eyes that seemed to be fighting with the more devious glint brewing in him, and paired with his brazen statement, it tugged at your core.

And despite it all, you felt completely at ease; the sudden suspense and the violent thrum of your heartbeat aside, you were almost entirely calm. You knew you were safe, that the solace he cloaked you with spanned to even the most random and uncertain situations or conversations.

So you continued on.

“Took some trial and error,” you felt nervous laughter bubble up from your throat, “But I got the hang of it.” You smiled, before quirking your brow and addressing yourself more so than him, “I think.”

“You think…” He repeated, eyes narrowing as his gaze turned inquisitive.

“Just, you know…” You squirmed under his gaze now, “Not really a how-to manual on touching yourself…”

He exhaled, laughing through the hole where his nose should’ve been. “Maybe not in the vaults.” He dug in his pockets, unsure if the lightheadedness he was feeling should be blamed on a lack of chem in his system or on the topic of conversation. He took a puff before settling again. “Plenty o’guidance up here.”

“You mean, like…porn?” You smiled, shooting him a knowing look.

“At one point. Not anymore,” he sagged a little, “Lucky if ya find a fuckin’ playboy mag up out here.”

“You seem disappointed by that,” you prodded, teasing.

“That’s cause I am,” he shot back, stretching his shoulders.

“Well, all I’m saying is I know what I’m doing.” You rested your back against the wall, hands clasped in your lap.

“And I’m sayin’ that I sincerely doubt it.” He put the inhaler back into his pocket, deciding it was definitely the conversation that was to blame for the way his head swam.

You let his words hang between the two of you momentarily. Then, on a whim, figuring that you’d had plenty of chances before, and being unwilling to let another one slip away: “I could show you.” You didn’t look up at him, but he stiffened, his eyes unwittingly falling to stare at your hands. “How I…how I touch, I mean.”

You braced yourself for rejection, looking up sheepishly and letting your hands fall to your sides. He was already looking back at you, lips parted and eyes half-lidded—he could say no, and he thought about it for a moment. But, Christ, it had been a long time. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized he couldn’t say no.

Not to you. Not when it came to something like this, a vision, a woman untouched by the grit and grime of the surface, offering up something that now seemed so holy.

He sucked in a breath; he had never been a church goer. He thought maybe now was a good time to make up for all the sins he’d committed—worship at the shrine of you, talk you through your own wrongs and absolve himself of the thoughts he’d been having since he’d first encountered you all those weeks ago.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, sweetheart…go on ahead…”

You exhaled shakily, not even realizing that you’d been holding in a breath. You scrambled to lose the jeans he’d gifted you, eager to expose yourself, immensely grateful for the chance that had dropped in your lap.

“Hold’t,” his voice cut through your motions, and you froze. You’d gone too far, surely. He recognized the error he had made by giving you the go ahead and was now taking it all back. “Y’gonna listen when I say you’re doin’ it wrong?” He sucked on his lips.

“I won’t—I don’t do it wrong.” There was no bite to your argument.

“I asked ya’a question,” he continued, “Y’gonna listen t’me? Gonna fix your mistakes ‘f’I tell ya to?” He bent one knee, resting his hand limply between his legs. “Do what I fuckin’ say to do?”

You bit the inside of your bottom lip, trying to hide the impact his words had on you. “Yeah,” you nodded, “Yeah, Coop. I will.”

You thought maybe you heard him growl, but any noise coming from him was muddled by the sound of your zipper finally coming undone.

“Good,” he nodded, “Knew you could be a good girl. Just need’a blow off some steam, huh?”

This time, you couldn’t avoid the soft moan that slipped past your lips. Cooper let out an amused exhale in response, eyes trained on your hips as you wiggled your way out of the pants.

“Yeah, you like this,” he got comfortable, resting one arm behind his head, only nearly knocking his hat off. “Like gettin’ bossed around more than you let on, darlin’.”

“Shut up,” you tried to keep it together, kicking the jeans off your legs and tossing them to the side. But your words were unconvincing, especially with the way you barely smiled, breath hitching already and eyes wild and blown out. You did like it—but only because he was doing it.

He tsked at your response. “Not very nice. Big talk from someone with no panties on.”

In such a short time span, you’d already forgotten that you’d ridded yourself of your underwear. It was gross, and you’d had no change, and it wasn’t as if you’d be thrilled to peel the undergarments off a corpse. You figured commando was the most obvious way to go.

“That a bad thing?” You goaded him, running a palm down your naked thigh and seeing how long it would take to break his collected demeanor.

“Never said that,” he drawled, following your hand on its path down your leg. “Y’gonna keep puttin’ on a li’l show f’me, or ya gonna do what’cha promised?” He licked his lips.

“You don’t like a little showmanship?” You squeezed your thighs together, not missing how his chest rose.

“With my killin’,” he found your eyes, “Not with my pussy.”

If this was a competition to see who could keep it together the longest, you’d be losing by a landslide.

“Spread those legs f’me, baby.”

And with all the pet names he’d given you in your time with him, something as simple as the word baby falling from his lips and landing on your skin had you flooded with arousal.

You did what you were told, straightening your legs and feeling the tile of the floor cling to your skin as you opened them. The Ghoul’s gaze flickered between your face and your core, both positioned perfectly towards him.

“C’mon,” he nodded, “Show me how good ya make yourself feel.”

You knew what he wanted to see. Even after his claims of disliking the display you were putting on, you could tell that he was just being impatient for show. You wanted to draw this out, watch him come undone in sync with you despite the physical distance.

You let your hand roam over the tops of your thighs, feather soft touches making goosebumps erupt on your skin in anticipation for what was to come.

“How y’feel?” He disrupted the otherwise silent escapade you were undertaking.

“Soft…” you mumbled, “Warm.” You didn’t know if he was asking about your emotions or for the physical description of what your skin felt like on your fingers, but your mind was blank with adrenaline, so you subconsciously chose to focus on the latter.

He took a deep breath, afraid that if he were to blink, he would miss something. “How ‘bout you drop that hand a li’l lower.”

You sighed as you followed his instruction. The pads of your fingers brushed your clit, and you squeaked out a moan.

How long had it been since you’d gotten any time to enjoy yourself? Certainly longer than the month or so you'd been on the surface; with Cooper, you never had the solitude or time to let yourself unwind, and even before joining him, you were more focused on surviving than you were on unwinding.

You let your fingers circle your clit, building the pressure with every swipe. The friction made you buck your hips gently, sweat-slick skin sliding on the floor. You could feel the way your cunt began to drip, and you spread your legs wider, wanting to give him a proper view. You looked up at him, your face painted with an underlying uncertainty behind the overarching pleasure.

“You got it, sweetheart,” he reassured you, briefly biting down on his tongue when he saw the way your slit glistened, “Show me.”

You relaxed into your own body; fingers dropping lower to tease your entrance were met with a backing score of delicious wet sounds as you let the pads graze beyond your folds and kiss at your hole. You moved your hand at an angle to allow one finger to push into your cunt down to the first knuckle, but Cooper tsked at you.

“Not yet,” his breath was already becoming labored, “Show that pretty pearl a li’l more love first.”

The timbre of his voice made you shiver despite the heat that engulfed your skin. You nodded, staring up at him for guidance, just as you always did—though this circumstance was far different.

Your fingers came back up to toy with your clit, and you let out a breathy sound. He had been right to tell you to slow down, to continue to enjoy the friction instead of diving straight into the penetration; you felt light and malleable, like your body was taking a natural route towards the apex of pleasure without needing the frantic thrust of your finger.

Another moan slipped past your lips, and the Ghoul groaned in front of you, eyes glued to your center as you massaged gentle shapes onto your clit.

“Knew ya didn’t know what y’were doin’,” he chastised softly, voice uncharacteristically tender given the state of events unfolding. “Impatient thing like you just needs some instruction. S’at right, sweetheart?” He leaned forward, bending a knee, “Needed someone to tell ya how t’do it so it feels real good?”

You bucked against your hand, in the midst of discovering something new about yourself; maybe you did need it—maybe you liked it. It could have been the simple fact that it was him taunting you, telling you what you wanted and how you wanted it, but his words had you keening, and you let go of any remaining inhibition.

“Yeah,” you mewled, “Yes…” Your movements were getting sloppy, fingers frantic against your swelling bud. “Like—like it like this.”

He growled, pushing air through gritted teeth that formed a menacing smile meant only for you. “Slow down there,” he wanted to grab your wrist, to replace your hand with his own, but something about the chaste, urgent nature of how you touched yourself made him all the more eager to watch how your own movements played out. “Don’ gotta rush it, baby.”

You knew you'd been right—he did like a little showmanship.

“But—” You wanted to argue; it felt good, and the thought of stopping made you squirm harder. But with his eyes on you the way they were, and his hat tipping forward to emphasize his demand, you let the response die in your throat, slowing your fingers.

“Atta girl,” he praised, and your smile was paired with a small whine. “You like the way I’m talkin’?” He was playing with you, flirting while making sure the waters were still welcoming.

“I do,” you responded with a whimper, thrilled by the noises you made, having only ever touched yourself in silence for fear of getting caught.

“Good. Cause I’m’a keep goin’,” he leaned back once more, shifting slightly to ease the tightness that had sprung up in his trousers. “Give that pussy what she needs—slow, now.”

You pressed a finger into your hole, watching it soak in the wet that dripped from you. You wanted to go faster, to push it in completely and fuck yourself on it, but you refrained from the urge to do so and went leisurely as instructed.

“Fuck,” you breathed when the webs of your fingers stretched over your lips, as deep as you could get inside yourself. “Been a—it’s been a minute since I’ve done this.”

“Easy, now—s’why I’m goin’ slow.” He spoke as if he was the one touching you, as if his finger was buried within you in place of your own.

“Can I…” You fidgeted around your hand, “What next.”

“So fuckin’ eager t’please,” he chuckled, “Where was’s obedience out there, huh?”

“Had to make you work for it,” you smiled, your words carrying no malice as your hand became more saturated with your juices.

“Curl’at finger up,” he ignored your retort with a blunt demand, “Like yer callin’ me over.”

You did, and the spot your finger grazed made your limbs buzz and your core tighten. Your face must’ve changed to display your sudden pleasure, because Cooper let out a proud grunt.

“Didn’know’at was there, did’ya?”

“No…” You didn’t bother to explore the shameful feeling that nipped at your heels for being so unfamiliar with your own body after talking such a big game, too focused on exploring the tantalizing feeling that traveled through you when you nudged at the spot again. “Fuck, that feels good.”

“I know,” he looked smug, clearly impressed with himself for teaching you something new about your own body. “Add another.”

“Another finger?” Your skin flushed.

“Go on.”

“I—I’ve only ever done one.” You explained, more embarrassed about this fact than you had been to strip and fuck yourself in front of him.

“Y’can do it,” he shot you a jagged grin, “Would I ever lead y'astray?”

You swallowed your reminder to him that he used you as a lure in any situation he could get away with. Your head drooped, and you watched as you pulled your hand back enough to press a second finger to the one that had been nestled inside of you. You prodded your entrance, sinking them in slowly as you had with the first one. You hissed, unfamiliar pressure filling your abdomen, though not in an unwelcome capacity; it was a warm tension, weighty and grounding, and you quickly found pleasure in the new sensation.

The way you stared down at yourself, legs spread and lips parted, nearly made him snap; you were so curious, so hungry for instructions to follow—so deeply trusting of him. Cooper’s mouth went dry, and his hand fell to his crotch, palming at the growing tent there.

“Look’t that,” he licked his lips, “Y’feel the stretch, sweetheart? Feel nice?”

“Mm,” you whimpered out an answer, remaining focused on the way your hand met your cunt, swallowed to the last knuckle and still wanting more.

“Curl ‘em again f’me,” he muttered, squeezing his cock through the fabric of his pants.

You did, throwing your head back and hitting that same spot he’d directed you to earlier. The sound you made was desperate and primal, coming out husky from deep in your chest.

“God!” You felt like crying happy tears. Something built inside you that you couldn’t stop, and it felt good—it felt right.

“He can’t help ya now, darlin’,” the Ghoul’s mouth hung open, hypnotized by the urgency in your sounds and the way your body contorted as you tried to keep up with your own pleasure. “Now pull ‘em out ‘n’do it all again. Fast, now—you got it.”

Hurriedly, you pulled your fingers back, then pushed them back in with equal haste, bending them upwards and grazing the delicious spot you’d been missing out on for god only knows how long. You did it again, and again; your repeated movements helped you chase the high you were looking for, hurtling you towards the finish line, and you wanted him to see it as badly as you wanted to feel it.

“Look’t me,” his voice was gruffer now, a dominant edge finding its way in by way of his own lust. “Lemme see y’feel good, sweetheart.”

“C—ooper,” his words hit you exactly where you needed them, finding his gaze with your own and falling apart completely. You pulsed around your fingers, gluey and hot, your skin pricked with gooseflesh despite the humidity and the rush of warmth you felt all over. You moaned, loud and long, but your ears buzzed and your eyes screwed shut so that not even your own sounds could distract from the intensity of the orgasm that washed over you.

When you opened your eyes, squinting in the light of the fire while you took heaving breaths, you expected a blanket of embarrassment to wash over you, some type of mortification for what you’d just done—exposed to another person for the first time, allowing him a view you’d rarely ever even given yourself.

But when you peeked up at him through heavy eyelids, gulping down air, he looked dazed, his mouth agape and eyes wide. And suddenly you felt pride more than anything—you’d managed to leave the most feared man for miles at a total loss.

His hand was still on his crotch, raking his eyes over you, your form illuminated by the campfire. His throat felt dry, and he coughed a few times, hunching over to collect himself before he made eye contact with you again.

“Goddamn,” he gasped, swallowing his coughing fit, “Fast learner.”

“Good teacher,” you grinned, toeing at the discarded jeans that had been left in a heap at your feet.

“Pretty when you cum,” he rolled his shoulders back, still foggy with arousal after seeing you whine and writhe for him.

That made you blush, not out of embarrassment, but because it was the first real compliment he’d paid you. “Never done it like that before.”

“Never had a ghoul teach ya how t’do it right.” He joked, and you smiled at the way he returned so quickly to his usual snark.

“Never cum that hard, that fast.” You admitted, shooting him a glance before leaning forward to grab the wrinkled denim off the floor.

“Had me fooled,” he took out his inhaler, “Needy fuckin’ thing.” That sent a buzz through your body, and you pressed your thighs together to alleviate the ache in your cunt.

“You liked it.” You quirked a brow, dropping your gaze to your legs and pulling the oversized pants back on.

“Never said I didn’t,” he pointed out, “Almost made me cum my pants like some fuckin’ schoolboy.”

“Never done that either,” you yawned, “Made someone else cum.”

“Don’t think it’d be a hard lesson for y’t’learn,” he smirked, “Natural’at you are.”

“It’ll have to wait,” you didn’t know why you assumed it would happen at all, subconsciously hoping that this wouldn’t be forgotten in a day’s time, “Tired.”

“Course y’are,” he offered no explanation, shifting in his spot. He raised an arm and beckoned to you, encouraging you to come closer.

You did, no stranger to doing what he told you to do, and found yourself curled against his side. He smelled like smoke and sex—musky and dewy in a way that made you feel at home.

“I got first watch, y’fuckin—” he cut is taunting short when he looked down at you, seeing you fast asleep.

☆Like my work? Buy me a ko-fi :)☆

#cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #cooper howard smut #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #ghoul smut #walton goggins #walton goggins x reader #walton goggins x you #fallout #fallout show #fallout series #fallout prime

244 notes · View notes

serpentandlily · 1 year ago

Text

Untouchable - Azriel x Reader

Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand's Sister! Reader ✨

Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court's spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he'd eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on-with Elain, your brother's mate's middle sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that - more complicated than you ever imagined.

Warnings: angst

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V

➻❥ Part VI ➻❥ Part VII ➻❥ Part VIII ➻❥ Part IX ➻❥ Part X

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part I

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Your heart was twisting in your chest, a sick feeling curling in the pit of your stomach, as you hurried down the dimly lit hallways of the River House. You held a hand over your mouth, trying to stifle the sobs that threatened to break loose and the bile that stung the back of your throat. You could do it, you could hold it in. At least until you got back to your room. And then you’d be free to cry and cry and cry as much as you wanted to.

You had spent years trying to bury your feelings for the shadowsinger. What had started out as a harmless crush on your older brother’s friend when you were just a girl had blossomed into true, real feelings since you had come of age. But despite your best efforts, Azriel still never seemed to notice you. Not like that anyways.

Him and Cassian had adored you the moment you had entered their life as just a babe and the sister of their best friend. You had been born during a time of peace, decades after the war. The three of them had been nearing two-hundred. They had watched you grow into the female you were today. Had been there through your toughest years after watching your mother brutally murdered in front of you at the age of thirteen, barely saved before your own life was taken.

It was a good thing Rhys had become High Lord before the time you reached eighteen or your father would’ve had you married off, no doubt for some political alliance. You had hoped your brother would’ve given you a role in his court once you were of age but after almost losing you, he had become increasingly protective.

So instead of being sent on missions, or used as an emissary, you spent most of your time volunteering in Velaris—helping to build the sanctuary into what it was today. You had eventually stopped arguing with your brother to loosen up his hold on you when he had broken down crying in front of you simply at the thought of you never returning if he was to send you out in the world.

And how could you complain when Velaris had been your cage? So you learned to play your role, for him, for your brother. The pretty little sister of the High Lord. Never known for anything but your beauty. The beauty that had males sending your father marriage propositions since the age of ten.

But there had only ever been one person you wished would see you that way. And he never had. You had to watch him pine after your own cousin for centuries. Never once looking your way. You feared he’d only ever see you as that little girl—the one who used to climb all over them at the cabin, the one who had the three males wrapped around her finger since she had been born.

Only ever just a girl in his eyes.

And you had made peace with that, as much as it hurt to be looked over by the one person you wanted the most. It still bothered you to watch his eyes track Mor all the time, to stare at her in a way he would never look at you. You had made peace with that…until tonight.

You couldn’t lie to yourself and say you hadn’t seen the shift in him when he started looking after the middle Archeron sister. You had once believed he only had eyes for Mor, and it had brought you some solace in knowing that might be the only reason he had never looked your way.

But then Elain showed up and those affections shifted from Mor to her. Suddenly he was always with her, spending hours in the gardens with Elain. Staring at her the way he would stare at Mor. Your heart had started crumbling all over again with the realization that he could move on from Mor, could fall for someone other than her—and it hadn’t been you.

You had left your bed chambers tonight to fetch a glass of water from the kitchens but nothing could’ve prepared you for what you would’ve walked in on. You had smelt them before you opened the doors. Azriel’s cedar and night-chilled mist and Elain’s sweet jasmine and honey.

You should’ve left then but something had compelled you to open the kitchen doors just a hair.

And there they were. Elain seated on the counter, Azriel between her legs. Her skirt has been pushed up to her thighs, his hands tangled in her hair, as they kissed like two starved animals.

You were lucky you had spent years learning how to keep a strong mask like your brother, for it allowed you to slip away without them ever noticing you.

You finally made it to your room, shutting the door and locking it behind you. You were grateful for the sound wards you had put up because the minute you stepped over that threshold you collapsed into a heap on the floor as heart-wrenching sobs erupted from your lips.

It felt like you had been stabbed in the heart with a million knives, like someone had gutted you and twisted your insides. It hurt so much to think that Azriel would never want you the way you wanted him. He didn’t want you. He didn’t crave your presence the way you did his. He didn’t want to touch you the way you wanted to touch him. He just didn’t want you.

And he never would.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“Send me somewhere,” you said, pressing your palms onto your brother’s desk as you stared at him right in the eyes—the eyes you shared. “Anywhere, I don’t care. Just send me somewhere.”

Rhys frowned, his eyebrows pinching together. “What has gotten into you? Did something happen?”

You let out a sigh, collapsing in one of the armchairs. You couldn’t tell him the real reason you wanted to leave. It was embarrassing. “Nothing happened. I’m just…tired of being cooped up here. Please, Rhys. It doesn’t even have to be far—just please.”

“Where is this coming from, y/n? You haven’t asked this in years. I thought you were happy here.”

“I am happy here. But I want to see the world, Rhys. And we’re finally in a time of peace. So let me, please.”

Rhys’s eyes narrowed, taking in your appearance. The slightly swollen eyes, the dark circles, the haphazard way you had braided your hair this morning. “Did…did someone hurt you? Did someone do something to you?”

“What? No!” A lie of course. But what could you say? Azriel had hurt you but it wasn’t like it was his fault. It wasn’t like he owed you anything.

“You know you can always talk to me about anything. Right, dove?” The use of his nickname for you nearly caused the tears you were fighting back to escape.

“Of course, Rhys. But I promise you. No one did anything to me. Please. The war is finally over and I think I’ve spent enough of my life here. I want to see what the rest of the world has to offer.”

Rhys’s head fell in his hands. “I-I don’t think I can let you go, dove. I’m sorry but I can’t bear it…I can’t bear not having you here where I can protect you.”

“It’s not fair!” You shouted, standing up. “I’m not a child anymore—I’m nearly three hundred years old for Gods sake! I’m suffocating here, Rhysie. Please.”

“Rhys,” Feyre said softly, placing a tattooed hand on her mate’s shoulder. “Perhaps it is time you let y/n make her own choices. You promised me you’d always give me a choice—would always let me decide what to do with my life. Why can’t that apply to your sister?”

You shot her a grateful look, hoping she would make him see reason. Rhys stayed silent and you knew he had been struck by her words. “I can go to Mor, on the continent. Then you don’t have to worry about me being alone. I can help her try to form alliances there.”

Still he said nothing but judging by Feyre’s narrowed eyes, you could tell they were having an argument mentally. You wiped your sweaty palms on your dress, wishing that he would listen to his mate about this. If anyone could talk Rhys into something, it was her.

It felt like an eternity went by before your brother finally looked up at you. His eyes were full of sadness and guilt and you knew in that moment, you had won.

“Fine, fine. But you will go to Mor in Vallahan and stay with her the whole time. You will listen to her at all times and never go anywhere alone. And you will write me twice a week,” Rhys growled. “And I swear, y/n, if you even miss one letter, I will come get you myself. Those are my rules—take it or leave it.”

A genuine smile bloomed on your face as you jumped to your feet and ran around the desk to embrace your brother in your arms. “Thank you, Rhys! Thank you! I promise I’ll do as you say. I promise.”

He held you tightly as if he never wanted to let go and you peered at Feyre from over his shoulders to mouth her a small ‘thank you’.

This was it. You’d finally be able to leave this city after three hundred years. Finally see the world! And most importantly: be far, far away from the shadowsinger that had won your heart but fallen for another.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Three months went by in the blink of an eye. You had spent the entire time traveling with Mor from Vallahan to Montesere, where you two had just settled down when Rhys had contacted you both, asking for your return home. Apparently he had big news to share but he wanted to do it in person. So now you were packing up your things, getting ready to return back to Velaris for the first time since you had left.

It had been annoying how much you thought of Azriel still. But it was getting easier to ignore the longer you were away. You hoped those feelings would eventually disappear entirely—but every time you thought of moving on, something in your chest would ache and ache.

That didn’t mean you hadn’t taken lovers in your time here. It had always been hard to find males to mess around with in Velaris considering they all knew who your brother was. The last thing they wanted was for Rhys to come looking for them after sleeping with you. So you’d only taken a few lovers here and there throughout the years.

But on the continent, no one knew who you were. Had no idea that you were the younger sister of one of Prythian’s High Lords. And Mor had been sure to teach you all the ways to have someone wrapped around your finger. You had never felt so confident in yourself as you did now. Finally becoming the female you wanted to be without your brother or the two other bats watching you over your shoulder. It was exhilarating.

But the thought of returning home had dampened some of your newfound joy. You were worried about slipping into your old role—being that sweet, pretty, little accessory they all expected you to be.

You wouldn’t allow that. You couldn’t. Not after having a taste of what it could be like if you became the female you always dreamed you’d be. Someone who knew she was desired for more than just her looks. Someone interesting. Someone smart and witty. Someone brave. You tried to ignore the part of you that hoped Azriel might see those things in you now.

“Are you ready to go, y/n?” Mor asked, leaning against the doorframe of your room.

You took one last look at yourself in the floor length mirror. You were wearing a dress that was typical of what they wore here in Montesere. If you could even call it a dress. It was white, the bodice dipping into a v-shape and clinging to your body with gold embellishments and blue gems decorating it. It had long sleeves that connected to a hood, stitched in glimmering gold. It cut off right under your breasts, exposing your toned stomach until just slightly passed your belly button.

The skirt was held up by two thin gold straps that criss-crossed over the sides of your hips to connect it to the top part of the dress. The skirt itself traveled to the floor and had two long slits on either side to show off your legs. The white color complimented your tanned skin and the kohl you had lined your eyes with made the violet color of your eyes glimmer even brighter.

You had left your hair down in soft curls, only pinning back two strands on either side of your face with some gold pins. More than happy with the way you looked, you turned back to Mor with a grin.

“I’m ready to go home.”

#acotar #azriel #fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel fic #angst #rhysand sister #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel x female!reader #acotar fanfiction #shadowsinger x reader #acosf #post war

2K notes · View notes

myfictionaldreams · 1 year ago

Text

Day 14: Uniform - Natasha Romanoff

Summary: You worked for SHIELD and had a huge crush on Natasha, so what do you do when she corners you one day, begging for your help as her zipper is broken and she's struggling to remove her uniform.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, anxious!reader, mutual pining, kissing, flirting, fingering, oral

A.N: Sorry this is a day late!

masterlist 📚

kinktober masterlist😈

AO3 Link

“I need your help”, came the sultry feminine voice from your bedroom door, completely snapping you out of the fantasy world you were currently daydreaming about from the book in your hand.

You knew who was there before turning in her direction in shock and surprise. “Help? Me? You need me?” your cheeks warmed at your noticeable stutter with questioning as you looked at the beautiful red-haired woman standing at your door. Natasha Romanoff was smirking at you with her hand on her hip and wearing the tight-fitting black widow suit, recently returning from a mission. She looked dangerous and deadly, but from what you could see, none of her weapons were attached to her anymore, even though she was a weapon.

Natasha tilted her head to the side, her eyes flicking across the room, taking in every detail of your bedroom, and you wished you had cleaned up before she arrived. Standing nervously from your bed, your book is thrown onto the bedside drawer without marking the page with the urgency to give the woman your attention.

She doesn’t say anything; she just continues to look at you with her piercing eyes before nodding her head in the opposite direction, a sign that she wants you to follow her down the hall. You were a SHIELD agent and are currently staying at the Avengers headquarters as you continue to train for missions. You’d made some good friends here and enjoyed finally being able to use your skills for something that mattered.

This was all until you realised that the Avengers themselves actually lived there, not just the agents. You assumed they had their own homes for privacy, but this was not the case, so day after day, you had to see people like Natasha who could casually walk into your bedroom. Your crush on the Avengers was rampant, having admired her since before even joining the institute. Who wouldn’t find her attractive? She was among the most fierce and beautiful women you’d ever seen.

Natasa, ever the spy, was well aware of the effect she had on others and, most of the time, enjoyed shooting down anyone who attempted to flirt with her, walking away without a glance back at them. But not you. Never you. It is evident to everyone who worked at the Avengers headquarters that you had a deep-seated crush on Natasha, from the fleeting glances out of the corner of your eyes or how you would stammer and stutter over your words when she was close by. You were fascinated with her, but rather than being a strong, independent woman, you resorted to being a nervous wreck, hardly even looking her in the eye because you were so anxious to talk to the beautiful woman.

This only became a fun game for Natasha, who found your crush incredibly endearing, cute even and found any excuse possible to try to talk to you, even adding your name to missions so that she knew you were close by. The more time she spent with you, the more she developed her crush; she was just better at hiding it. It was a fun little game at your expense, and today, Natasha was hoping it would be the end to it all, bored with the teasing.

Natasha walked confidently down the hall, through a set of double doors and into the Avengers section of the building. You nearly tripped over your feet, trying to look around at the area you’d not been to before she halted in front of a door, entered a key code and walked in. The weapons and expensive dress decorating the indicted where she’d taken you. You paused on the threshold to her bedroom, unsure if she meant for you to follow her in here, but she urgently waved you further so she could close the door.

Hiding your trembling fingers behind your back, you turned towards Natasha, your eyes wandering above her head as you couldn’t stomach looking into her beautiful face. “So, um, what do you need help with, Miss Romanoff?”

Natasha tried not to grin at the formal way you addressed her. “It’s pretty embarrassing, actually”, she began, her posture changing completely as her shoulders hunched slightly inwards whilst curling some of her red hair behind her ears to appear as if she was embarrassed. “My zip snapped during the mission, and now, I can’t remove my uniform, and the material has been specially made, so I can’t just cut it off”.

Your mouth suddenly filled with saliva as you automatically glanced at where her zipper stopped, just above her cleavage. Once you realised you were staring, you quickly looked back down to the ground, finding the carpet incredibly interesting all of a sudden.

“Why are you asking me for help and not the seamstress?” you asked when you finally found the courage to find your voice.

“The seamstress doesn’t work on Saturdays, and you’re one of the only people I trust here, so I need to hold the two pieces of material together at the top, and you somehow shimmy the zip down”.

There was only white noise blasting through your head at her request, and without giving yourself time to overthink, you closed the distance between each other. The tips of your shoes brushed against hers as you lifted your fingers to grab the zip buckle. Natasha could see the tremor in your fingertips as she grabbed the two sections of material and tried to squeeze them together.

It was difficult at first to grab the metal, especially as your hands began to sweat, but ever so slowly, the zip descended lower, inch by inch. More of her skin began to be revealed. Her cleavage, her sternum, then lower over her navel until the very edge of her public area, which, to your amazement, was neatly trimmer and a brunette shade.

As you comprehended what you were actually looking at, you stepped away, hands rubbing at your sides like you’d made the gravest mistake possible, scared that Natasha would be upset for revealing so much of her body. However, the assassin was unphased and began to pull her arms from her uniform, pushing the black material off her shoulders, down her waist and hips and then kicking off her shoes and attire, leaving it in a pile on the floor.

“You… You don’t wear any underwear beneath your uniform”, you whispered beneath your breath in awe before quickly looking at that entertaining patch of carpet on the floor, realising you’d been staring at her naked body. Your entire body heated with embarrassment and arousal as you crossed one leg over the other to try and squeeze your thighs together to get rid of the uncomfortable feeling.

Natasha shrugged at your observation, “I find that the uniform is so tight that I can’t wear any underwear without the seams being seen, so it’s easier to go without”. Nodding your head at her explanation, you continued looking anywhere but at her. Natasha took a dainty step towards you, her smile growing more prominent, “Are you afraid of nakedness?”

You make a point of forcing yourself to look at her whilst folding your arms over your chest. “No, of course not. I just thought it would be polite to give you some privacy”.

Natasha bites the inside of her lips to stop from just outright grinning and laughing in your face. “I don’t mind. You can look”, she quips whilst raising one of her eyebrows suggestively.

You weren’t sure if this was a test, but as your eyes lowered, you thanked whatever gods were listening to this one moment that you would remember for the rest of your life. She was well toned, given her lifestyle and training methods, and scars littered over her body, which was evidence of her work as stabbings or gunshots clearly created them. You were mesmerised by her beauty, from her perfectly trimmed mound, her toned abs, and up to her round, full breasts.

Until that is, something piqued your interest, “Do you have your nipples pierced?”

Natasha tipped her head back and laughed, looking down at her perked nipples with a shrug of her shoulders, making them jiggle with the movement. “Yeah, they’ve made me quite sensitive, but I thought it would be fun. Plus, they’re super cute”.

“You are”, you say, admiring her breasts, but then your eyes go wide in shock, realising what you’d just said and the soft tone you’d said it in. “I mean, they are- the piercings are -I didn’t mean to sound inappropriate, sorry. I didn’t mean- I just- I wasn't, um-”

Natasha took a step forward, closing the gap entirely so that you could now feel the warmth of her skin; she was that close. Her beautiful, naked body within your bubble, you never wanted it to leave.

“It’s ok, I know what you meant. You’re cute when you’re all embarrassed”.

“I…I am?” you say, looking at her like she had grown another head because there was no way Natasha Romanoff just called you cute in any sense of the word, especially when you’re whining away anxiously.

“You are. Might be why I asked you to come and help me rather than the others. Nothing like a cute girl helping to undress me”. You flush at the obvious flirtatious advances, trying your hardest to continue looking into her forest-green eyes that seem to delve deep into your soul. “You’re even more cuter when you’re like this. Reacting more to my words than my naked body. God, I could just eat you right up.” Natasha lifts her slender fingers and runs the back of them over your eyes and around your ear. “I’ve been watching you, y’know?. It's so hard to talk to a cute girl like you when you’re running away from me every time I enter the room”.

“I’m just nervous”, you say and instantly chastise yourself for stating the obvious.

It doesn’t, phas Natasha thought as her other hand gently grasped yours, interlocking your fingers as she stated, “I know. You don’t have to be nervous, Sugar. I only want good things, I promise”.

She lifts the hand that is holding hers, kissing the palm ever so softly and then moves it so you’re holding her face. “You don’t have to be nervous to do anything with me”, Natasha continues, “I want you to feel safe with me. I want to get to know you on a personal and physical way, if you understand what I’m alluding to”.

Your mouth didn’t want to work, with the worry of just blurting out that you were in love with her, so you nodded your head to show your understanding. Being brave, you allowed your fingers to explore her sharp cheekbones, admiring the delicateness of her skin and shocked when she even began to nuzzle into your palm.

“Can I touch you?” she asks sincerely, her eyes wide with hope and yet restrained, not wanting to frighten you off. As your fingers brush through her silky hair, you nod your head, wanting her very much to touch you in any way possible.

Natasha lifts both hands to press against your hairline, exploring your face like she was trying to map every inch of you. Lower she descended, over your cheeks, your nose and finally your lips, pulling on the bottom one with her thumb, which had your eyes automatically dropping to look at hers.

You want to kiss so severely that it almost makes you ache and beg. It seemed Natasha also knew this and had another idea in mind as she implored in the most innocent voice, “Touch me lower”.

You do as instructed, over her jaw and down her long neck, then press her collarbones again, wondering if this is the area where you should stop. However, Natasha raises her eyebrow again in question, so you take that as your queue to explore lower. Your eyes never leave hers as your fingers run down the centre of her sternum, directly between her breasts, until they stop at the base of her sternum.

Deciding to be brave for once in your life, your fingers skimmed the underside of her heavy breasts, and you watched in delight as her breath hitched, chest leaning into the touch. You take this as a good sign and reach for her hard nipples that have a simple metal bar through the centre.

Natasha groans, even though all you’ve done is graze over the bundle of nerves. “So sensitive”, she explains and reminds you of her predicament.

Pulling your hand away, thinking you’d done something she didn’t want, you apologise quickly, “Sorry!”

However, with her lightning-fast reaction, Natashas quickly grabs your retreating hands and pulls them back to cup her again. “I like it. I like everything you do to me and want to do”.

Before you can overthink anymore, Natasha is pressing her face towards yours, eyes closing and lips connecting with yours. Your whole body reacts instantly, leaning closer and mewling into her mouth, pushing harder. Her lips were so plump they felt like soft, warm clouds against your face, and you’re obsessed, crazy for more, never wanting this moment to stop.

But of course, it does as Nat pulls back for a second, and you’re trying to chase after her with your lips, which causes the woman to giggle. “Can I take this off?” she asks, pulling on the bottom of your shirt. You nod, heart beating so hard on your chest you were sure she would be able to hear. Lifting your arms above your head, Natasha removes the article of clothing and begins to admire your black bra. “I love this”. She eyes it for a second before realising that it unclasps from the front. Natasha internally praised you for being so beautiful as she reached to undo the clasp, exposing your breasts to her.

She moans in wonderment at your beauty, cursing herself for waiting this long before making a move. Natasha couldn’t wait any long as her head dipped to lick across your nipple, causing your back to arch to press her face closer, and your fingers gripped into her hair to hold her there.

Something seemed to snap in you, whether the confidence blooming in your core or the anxiety melting away. Either way, you were in this situation, and there was no way you were letting it go to waste. As the red-haired woman sealed her lips around your other nipple, licking and sucking the bud into her mouth, you swiftly pulled her off by your hands behind in her hair, but only to kiss her deeply and passionately.

Whether it was your enthusiasm to kiss her or Natasha’s excitement that you were beginning to feel more confident, something knocked the two of you back so that you were now led on her perfectly made bed. Natasha doesn’t waste a second and is climbing on top of you, straddling your waste with her naked body now hovering over yours. You touch her everywhere now, her thighs, over her arse to pull her hips closer, up her back to then cup her head.

It was everything you wanted and more; couldn’t get enough of her taste, smell, and warmth. Everything about her, you wanted it every day, all the time. She was sweet and delicate with you, but eventually, Natasha too was becoming fevering with her touches and needing more of you.

“I wanna taste you”, she admits against your lips, just as her tongue dares to peek before yours.

“Are you sure?” you asked uncertainly.

Natasha laughed against your mouth, moving to kiss down your throat over the areas that had your toes curling as she confirmed, “Yes, I’m sure I want to eat you out.”

Your only answer was a grin that caused your cheeks to ache with how giddy you felt. Natasha kissed your lips once more before shuffling down your body, leaving a trail of open mouth kisses, tasting every area of your skin she could reach, and spending special particular attention on your breasts. Teasing and sucking on them until you begged her to move lower with how intense your arousal was becoming.

Natasha noted this, deciding that the next time the two of you were intimate, she wanted to see if she could make you cum just by nipple stimulation. Lower she moved, every touch was gentle and calm, even as she unbuttoned your jeans and began to lower them as well as your underwear down your legs, with the help of you lifting your hips, her fingers still were careful about where she touched.

She then began her journey up, kissing and licking all the places that were most sensitive, like your inner knee and thighs, until she was face to face with the area causing you the most ache.

Her eyes met yours, and a devilish smirk on her lips made you wonder what you had gotten yourself in for as her mouth met your more intimate areas. You broke eye contact first, but only because your body jolted, and you had to force your back to arch, spreading your legs further on the bed as your head tipped back.

Natasha's lips were just as plump and soft against your pussy as they were against your mouth. She kissed you there first, savouring the warmth and liquid that had already leaked from your cunt. The noises you were already whimpering were like music to her ears, so desperate and needy.

Carefully, her tongue licked long strips up your folds before adding pressure and parting them, moving deeper until she was poking at your hole that was already contracting with your arousal around nothing. She contemplated for a moment letting her tongue fuck you, but instead, she paid particular attention to your throbbing clit. Tentative, agonisingly slow circles did the tip of her tongue move around the bud before she pressed the flat front of her tongue and gave it a long lick.

“Natasha!” you cried out, hand moving to grip her hair to hold her there. Nat thought it was adorable seeing you falling apart like this so quickly. She hummed against your pussy which caused vibrations to purr into the nerves, which caused your thighs to tremble and clench with the stimulation.

Nat tickled the backs of your thighs to get them to relax again before travelling the length of the limb until the area where your tongue was still pleasuring. Her middle finger circled your eagerly awaiting hole, and as she sucked on the bundle of nerves, she inserted the finger carefully. In and out and moved before adding a second finger, beginning to stretch your cunt. Your hips began rolling of their own accord, desperate to match the pace of Natasha’s tongue and fingers, which had just started to curl to press against the sensitive spot inside you.

“That feels so good, right there!” Natasha didn’t plan on stopping making you feel this good, but she did contemplate just how pretty you’d look after being edged a few times. She just added that to the lengthening list of things she wanted to try with you in the future.

You had to bite your lower lip as your cries of joy were beginning to echo around the bedroom, still holding onto the red hair and essentially fucking yourself on her fingers and tongue. Opening your eyes, you looked down at the green eyes that were watching your every move.

“Please kiss me”, you asked desperately with a slight quiver in your voice as you were getting closer to orgasming.

Natasha grins, licking her lips and crawling back up your body whilst still curling her fingers, her thumb pressing and rolling your clit instead of her tongue. Her mouth was hungry against yours, forcing your lips wider so she could stroke your mouth's crevices, making sure you could taste yourself from her.

You reach out for her, wanting to feel her body just as badly as she wants to hear you cum, but she has other ideas. The hand you reached for her with was held firmly against the bed as Natasha shook her head. “This is just about you today; there will be so much more time for me in the future. Just enjoy this, Sugar”.

You could have melted at the pet name she’d picked and rushed forward to kiss her feverishly one more, hips rolling and working in time with the curl of her fingers and thumb. She was making you feel so good, expertly touching your body, gripping the back of your head to hold your close.

Resting her temple on yours, she looked at you with glazed eyes and demanded, “Cum for me; I want to see you cum on my fingers, pretty girl”. Her words had your core tightening in arousal, your mouth gaping open to gasp and share the same air as her she was that close to you. “That’s it, you’re doing so well for me. I know you’re close. I can feel it on my fingers; you’re so wet for me, so tight, Sugar. Cum for me”.

Your body convulsed as your orgasm rocketed through your very centre, thighs trembling, arms struggling to hold you up as your pussy squeezed in flutters around her fingers. She didn’t stop her rocking motion; those sweet curls of her two fingers, not under you, had sagged back onto the bed to catch your breath.

Carefully, she eased her fingers out of you, putting on a broad display of her licking your fingers and dramatically moaning at the taste before lying down next to you, resting her head on her elbow.

“Do you wanna go and get some food? There’s a cute Italian place about half an hour from here”, Natasha asks casually whilst stroking your cheek with the hand that had just been between your legs.

“What? Like a date?” you asked with the tremor returning to your voice as you stared at her with widening eyes.

Natasha takes one look at you and laughs, tipping her head back with how funny she found it. “I’ve just licked you out and had you cumming on my fingers, and you’re getting nervous about a date? You’re too fucking cute, Sugar. Yes, it’s a date. What do you say?”

Your cheeks heat at her amusement, but you’re soon joining her with smiling, nodding your head and saying, “Yes, I’d love to go on this date with you”.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff one shot #black widow smut #black widow x reader #marvel smut #marvel #mine*#kinktober 2023 #kinktober

1K notes · View notes

fangirlika · 2 years ago

Note

yes yes yes !! for a pt2 of learning hours because that was hot. thinking abt the build up to them actually realising their feelings after charles makes her feel good....AHHH

me too bestie, me too… but first of all, thank you for all of your feedback! And to fulfill all of you guys’ wishes, here is part 2 to Learning Hours! I decided against directly connecting it to where we left off in part 1 but I hope you still enjoy reading it <3

Study Break

MASTERLIST

pairing: Charles Leclerc x female!reader

summary: “I wouldn’t want it to ruin our friendship, you know?” “It doesn’t have to.” But oh how wrong you were… part 2 to this.

warnings: nsfw, smut, porn with plot?? who would’ve thought, fluff, bad French, reader and Charles in denial

“You fucked?!”

“Psst, Pierre, say it louder because I think not the entire paddock has heard you…”, Charles grumbled and looked around him slightly to check if anyone was actually close enough to hear them talking.

“Désolé, but how do you want me to react when you tell me that you and Y/n slept with each other?”, Pierre whisper-shouted now with a frown on his face.

Charles only rolled his eyes.

“Je ne sais pas comment c'est arrivé, but it has been happening a little more often these past weeks”, Charles admitted honestly whilst scratching the back of his neck. I don’t know how it happened

Pierre sighed and patted his friend on the back. “Oh, you’re in deep shit, mate.”

In deep shit he was indeed.

It’s been a little more than a month since you and Charles had sex for learning purposes for the first time but it definitely hadn’t been the last time.

After you gave him head he insisted on returning the favour to you immediately.

“Please”, he whispered against your lips, “let me make you feel good.”

You couldn’t turn him down, not then, not any of the times after that.

That day, Charles ate you out like a man starved, something your ex-boyfriend never dared to try out and really, you didn’t know what you missed out on.

Charles indeed made you feel good, he always does, and he probably gave you your most intense orgasm so far with his tongue alone. For the next few days after you couldn’t help but wonder what he could do to you with his dick.

And oh he did show you.

It was safe to say that with one single orgasm he made you feel better than your ex ever did in all of your time together.

After that, it seemed as if you two couldn’t stay away from each other.

Whether you two were at your or his place, whether it was in the evening or in the middle of the day - you almost always ended up as a tangled mess in bed or on the couch even.

But you were friends, that was what you were desperately trying to convince yourself of.

But all effort was without success because whenever Charles smiled at you when you were laying underneath him in bed or when you looked up at him while sucking him off, you couldn’t help but feel the butterflies erupt inside your stomach.

It wasn’t just lust, it was something else as well. Something you were yet too scared to narrow down and confront exactly. You were scared of ruining whatever the two of you had.

You should’ve probably broken up whatever deal you had going on weeks ago but it all also felt far too good to quit.

That is how you found yourself in the current situation, with his dick hot and heavy inside your mouth.

You two had been watching a movie together at his place - which one you didn’t remember, it didn’t really matter from the beginning on because since the first minute of the movie your mind has been on everything Charles did sitting beside you on the couch.

His arm was lazily draped around your shoulders and you were leaning into his side, something the two of you have been doing for years but it seems like now you can’t do this without it becoming heated afterwards.

You were half an hour into the movie before Charles turned your head to face him and pressed his lips to yours.

“I think it’s stupid to keep pretending that either of us is paying attention to the TV…”, he muttered against your lips and you just smiled into the kiss.

No matter how many times you and Charles had made out by now, he never failed to knock the air out of your lungs with how his lips moved against yours and how his tongue danced around your tongue.

“Wanna take this to the bedroom?”, Charles broke the kiss and mumbled. You could only nod your head, still breathless from the kiss, and Charles smiled before he pecked your lips once again and pulled you into his lap. He then stood up with you in his arms and made his way towards his bedroom down the hall.

During that, you started to press wet kisses along his neck and jawline, your lips sucking a little on the spots you knew made his breath stutter.

As absurd as it sounds, the two of you had almost developed a routine on how to get the other one into the mood, something friends certainly do, right?

Charles pushed open the door to his bedroom with his foot and in a matter of seconds he had you underneath him on the edge of his bed, his upper-body hovering above yours. He took a moment to look you in the eyes with a small smile on his lips before he pressed them onto the side of your neck, just like you did to him only mere seconds ago.

You couldn’t help but let out a small moan at the contact.

Your hands fiddled with the hem of his shirt in a silent plead for him to take it off. And he did pull away from your neck to remove his shirt. You used this moment to pull off yours over your head as well, lazily tossing it somewhere on the carpet for you to pick up later - or tomorrow most likely.

Charles' gaze immediately shifted towards your tits. Since you had only been lounging inside the house for most of the day, you decided to not wear a bra. Charles knew that, hell, he was hyper aware of your nipples poking through the thin cotton material of your shirt the entire day.

“I love your tits”, he said and moved both of his hands to knead them softly. You only let out a chuckle at that, followed up by a moan when Charles pinched your right nipple with his fingers.

“L-let me suck you off, yeah?”, you moaned out and Charles audibly let out a groan at your proposal before nodding his head.

God, he loved how forward you were in bed too. When you two started this, he expected you to be a lot more shy and hesitant but he took pride in the fact that you seemed to be so comfortable with him.

Charles' cock was already hard when he pulled down his sweatpants and boxers and stepped out of them, using his foot to push them towards the pile of clothing that started forming on the carpet.

Immediately you sat up, mouth watering at the sight of his cock in front of your face. You licked your right hand before you wrapped it around the base of his cock, observing his reaction thoroughly. You smirked when you saw how he screw his eyes shut at the contact and let out a silent moan, his mouth hanging open a little.

You stroked his cock a few times before you used your tongue to lick up the length of his cock and over the tip. Charles' hand made it’s way to your hair, pushing some loose strands behind your ears, almost lovingly.

Despite the situation starting to get thoroughly filthy, the atmosphere between you was calm and somewhat familiar.

“You feel so good around me, keep going”, he whispered in encouragement and let out another groan as you wrapped your lips around his cock and started to move up and down his length as far as you could.

You looked up at him and your eyes met. Charles could’ve come at the sight alone and therefore decided to gently pull his hips away so that he slipped out of your mouth.

You looked at him confused but he only pushed you back onto the bed by your shoulders. “Wanna come inside you”, he mumbled which made you smile.

“Okay?”, he asked for confirmation and you nodded.

“Yes, please.”

Charles gave you a quick kiss and then made his way down your stomach until he kissed the hem of your panties. One of his fingers pressed agains your clothed clit which earned him a whine from your mouth.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties before pulling them down and off your legs. You slightly shuddered as your core got exposed to the cooler air of the apartment and the wandering eyes of Charles.

The first time he saw you completely naked, you were still a little nervous but seeing the way he looked at you somehow made all your nervousness vanish.

“Belle”, he whispered and pressed a kiss to your inner thigh. “Please, Charles, get on with it”, you whined which earned you a light slap to your clit. You moaned and bit your lip right after.

Charles was never too rough with you, not wanting to scare you away or hurt you in any way but little things like these - he couldn’t help himself when he got to hear you moan so sweetly afterwards.

“Bossy again?”, he teased when he got up from his sitting position in front of the bed. You only let out a huff at his words and wrapped one of your legs around the back of his to pull him towards you, eager to feel him inside you again.

Charles had already taken his cock into his hand, ready to line himself up with your pussy when an idea came to his mind.

“Ready for another lesson?”, he asked with a smirk.

He probably expected you to nod your head with the same eagerness you displayed before but you couldn’t help but feel a little sting to your heart at his words. They reminded you what this seemingly still was: lessons, only teaching you how to feel good - no feelings involved.

Charles noticed the brief change of your facial expression before you forced up a smile and nodded. He hated to pretend that all this was just for learning purposes, to him it was more than that. And your reaction gave him the small hope that maybe you felt the same.

Nevertheless, he didn’t say anything and just continued with his proposal: “Soo, we have tried some positions by now but one thing we haven’t done yet is your riding me”, he spoke while stroking the soft skin of your inner thigh. “Would you be interested in that?”, he asked with an underlying tone of nervousness in his question.

You clenched your core at the thought of you sitting on his dick and riding him even though you would definitely lie to yourself if you claimed you hadn’t thought of that before.

“Lay down then, Leclerc”, was your response and you gave him a challenging smirk, one he immediately returned.

“Your wish is my command, L/n”, he teased before laying down on the bed and leaning his back against the headboard. You straddled him and moaned when you felt him between your folds.

“Go slow, okay baby?”, he said and put his hands on your hips. You answered him with a nod and sat up slightly before you lined up his cock with your entrance.

You slowly sank down on him which made your rally feel him inch by inch. You held eye contact the entire time and your mouth hung open while his brows were furrowed together to handle the insane feeling that was being inside you again.

When you bottomed out you took a moment to adjust to his size again. In this position you felt even fuller than ever before.

Charles squeezed your hips slightly and asked: “You okay?” You nodded and started to move up and down in his lap slowly but surely.

It only took a few strokes before the dull pain of him inside you vanished and was replaced with the familiar pleasurable feeling you had every time you two had sex.

You started to build a rhythm of moving your hips up and down his length and felt the familiar warmth building up in your core.

“You’re doing so good for me, love”, Charles groaned out and squeezed your hips tighter to keep himself from fucking up into you. He liked you in control but it took a lot of willpower for him to restrain himself from speeding up the rhythm himself.

You kept your rhythm and started to circle your hips slightly as well which caused him to hit that spongy spot inside your core once again and made you moan out his name in pleasure.

“Feels so- so good”, you managed to stutter out. “I’m close”, you moaned out after that and you struggled to keep up the rhythm with your hips.

Charles noticed and finally started meeting your thrusts with his hips pushing upwards and even deeper into you with had you seeing stars in a matter of seconds.

“My god, Charles”, you almost screamed out when you came with trembling legs and clenching your core. The sensation of you coming all over his cock didn’t fail to push him over the edge as well. He continued to fuck up into you during both of your highs but his thrusts began to stutter and became sloppier with each one.

“So good for me”, he repeated and caressed the skin of your hips while he closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. You attempted the same but you were unable to keep yourself up anymore and therefore almost fell onto his sweaty chest.

The room felt hot and sticky, just like your skin and the only audible thing were your ragged breaths.

Charles moved his hands to caress your back in small, mindless circles. The action made you smile agains his chest.

The two of you stayed in that moment for a little while before you moved your head up to look him in the eyes.

What you didn’t expect was that he was already looking at you with an expression you still failed to read but one you had seen increasingly more often these past weeks.

You stared at each other with the same loving expression on your face for what felt like an eternity.

“Y/n”, he started but quiet frankly, he didn’t know what to say exactly. Charles generally was a confident guy but you somehow managed to have him at a loss for words most of the times.

“I think we can stop pretending that this is only for learning purposes”, he whispered and internally he was ever so scared of your reaction.

He didn’t know what he expected you to reply. Only in the far back of his mind he allowed himself to believe that he wasn’t alone with that realisation of his feelings.

Your response therefore came as nothing less but a surprise to him. “I don’t like saying it, but you are more than right, Leclerc”, you said with a smirk before you pulled yourself up a little and leaned into his face.

Charles laid one of his hands on your cheek before he flipped the two of you around so that you were laying underneath him again. He wasted no time in kissing you with anything he could give to you, trying to pour all his emotions into the kiss.

“Please be mine”, he mumbled against your lips.

“I’m already yours”, you replied breathlessly.

—————

Ahhh nervous for your reactions but oh please let me know what you think <333 I enjoyed writing this so much and aww I fell in love with Charles and Y/n here

here I’m tagging everyone who asked for a second part in the comments, I hope you don’t mind or else let me know!

@tempo-rary-fix @spicyclover @charlesswife @oscarissacsslut @dakotali @celine-xox @mysticalnightenthusiast @formulas-bitch @basicallyherondale @shyshva @teenagedreams-cl

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #formula 1 imagine #f1 #formula 1 #request #charles leclerc smut #Charles Leclerc smut imagine #charles leclerc x reader smut #leclerc #f1 smut

2K notes · View notes

writerastray · 2 years ago

Text

Affection

General Masterlist - Read this before interacting

Disclaimer:

⚠︎ My works are all protected. I do not permit any form of copying, translation, or reposting. Please reblog if you want to share my work.

⚠︎ My work is only appropriate for adults over the age of 18. Ageless/blank blogs will be blocked.

-> Word count: 6k.

-> Relationships: Lee Minho/afab!Reader

-> Rating: 18+ → Mature/Explicit

->Genre/Tropes: Sexual Tension, Smut. Other Additional Tags to Be Added. (Spoiler tags: Friends to Lovers At least for one night.)

-> Warning tags: Explicit Sexual Content. Other Additional Tags to Be Added.

-> Synopsis: After finding out that the guy you're in love with is dating someone else, your friend Minho decides to help with your heartbreak in more ways than you imagined.

The loud music made your head ache. You needed to get out of the party. Right now.

You went downstairs, stumbling and bumping into a few people with your head lowered. Your heart was broken into pieces. Shattering as tears formed in your eyes.

The room below was more packed than the one upstairs, where your friends were. You dragged your body through a crowd, feeling it harder and harder to breathe. Your stomach churned.

You were sure you heard someone call your name, but you ignored them. Your goal was to get out of the building. You didn’t know how much longer you could hold back your tears. You sprint to the backdoor, close to the bar.

Finally, away from the chaos that broke your heart.

The air outside was sharply cold. Your chest was hurting, like you couldn’t breathe.

It was night, and there was snow falling, but your body was numb to the cold. The past few minutes flew through your mind over and over again. His words, his smile, and his eyes full of love. All that directed at a person who was not you.

The empty alley made you feel even more lonely. Your knees buckle, and you fall. Head between your legs. Tears falling, making your cheeks colder than before.

The night wasn’t supposed to go like that. You weren’t supposed to get heartbroken when your best friend announced he was dating.

You weren’t ready to let your feelings for him go. You wanted him. You wanted to keep loving him, and you thought you could. You believed you could still be his friend and love him in secret.

But now he was dating, and you knew you’d have to move on. And you didn’t want to.

You heard yourself sob, and you bit your lips to contain it. Even if the loud music filled the night, someone might get out and hear you. No one can know Felix's best friend, his roommate, had feelings for him.

Of course, the universe didn’t hear your wishes.

"What do we have here?" A familiar voice made you hold your breath.

You didn’t look at Minho’s face. You refuse to, but you could picture his titled head and the smirk on his face even with your eyes closed.

"It seems a little kitten is hiding." He taunted you.

"Get out," you said, your voice dead and raw from holding your cries.

You feel him kneel in front of you. The heat of his body getting closer to your knees. It was good.

"Stay outside in this cold, and you won’t get only a broken heart but a flu too."

Your head slowly goes up. Minho’s hair was decorated with snowflakes, and his black eyes stared at yours with a glint of mischief. He had a smirk on his lips, and yet there was kindness hiding in the corners of his expression.

You have a tendency to always do what he says, even when Minho annoys the fuck out of you. Sometimes he reads you better than you can read yourself. The only time you didn't listen to him, well, that brought you into this mess.

You sniffed and nodded as you accepted his hands to pull you up.

"Yours or mine?" you said, hiccupping. He sighed.

"Mine is closer," he said, and not letting go of your hands, you both walked out of the alley.

The first time you met Minho was at a dinner with Felix and Seungmin. He was late due to the rain. You remember thinking he was one of the prettiest guys you'd ever seen.

He walked like he owned the place. His dark and piercing eyes radiate confidence. He had an aura that captivated everyone. He sat as if the entire world was waiting for him and smiled at his friends like they were his own brothers.

You initially thought he was one of those guys who thinks too much of themselves. Cocky and arrogant. You weren’t all wrong; he was cocky a lot of times, but with a few word exchanges, you saw kindness in him, the type that lurks and wraps your heart.

You two befriended easily.

After a while, you joined Felix when he hung out at Minho’s house. You'd workout with Minho, even if he kept nagging about your poor push-ups. Often, you’d play with his cats, and more than once, you only came to see them instead of Minho.

He didn’t mind it.

Soon enough, his house was a safe place.

It was only a matter of time until he realized your feelings for Felix.

You’ve been in love with your best friend since freshman year, but you promised yourself you wouldn’t put your perfect friendship at risk over your foolish heart.

Minho saw that, and it was the day you both first fought.

“You need to tell him,” he said. His lips were only slightly turned down. It was the only thing giving away he was upset at you.

You look at your kitchen counter. You just finished baking cookies, and Felix went out to buy some beverages for the three.

“I can’t tell him—”

“It’s not fair on him.” Minho walked up to you, but his approach was nothing but gentle, like he was dealing with a scared cat. Yet his voice was firm. "It will only get worse if you don’t confront your feelings.”

"He didn't notice before. He won't notice now."

Your hand stings with your nails pressing and cutting your palm. He stared at you before his gaze was drawn to your hand. He took it carefully on his own, and his fingers drew circles around your palm, soothing the pain. "And you’ll live your life humiliating yourself like that?”

This was the part where you always got mad at Minho. He didn’t scream at you, look mad, or make angry gestures. But his words were as deadly as the sharpest of knives.

"What do you understand about it anyway?"

You didn’t even know why he cared so much. Your heart hammers in your chest, anger boiling your blood. You met his gaze, and what you saw made you breathless.

There was hurt in his eyes, and they were getting red and teary. His jaw was set. This was the first time you'd seen him so vulnerable.

"I have been in your place,” he said, letting go of your hand. “It does not end well, Y/n."

You shake your head, trying to pull those memories away. Minho walked beside you, his hands once again drawing circles on yours, trying to keep them warm in the cold weather.

Felix once told you that Minho got his heart broken badly by a childhood friend of his in the past. So now love is a delicate topic to talk about with him.

After your fight, you’ve never had the courage to ask about his past lovers. You wonder how much pain you brought back on that day. Did the memories of his past still hurt him?

Back then, you didn’t listen to his words. You kept your feelings hidden, and look what you got. A shattered heart, with no one to help you pick it up because the only person you counted on was the one who broke it.

The streets were covered with snow. Minho was walking by your side, looking at the stores with Christmas decorations. It was time for them to close. There were few people outside.

Minho didn’t say anything the whole way. He left you to your thoughts.

He stopped in front of a coffee shop. It looked cozy inside, with green walls and golden phrases on them, and there was only one customer, beside you two.

You were still trying to calm yourself when both of you entered. He told you to sit somewhere as he ordered something for you to eat. Without the strength to argue about what you wanted to eat, you just obeyed him. His fingers were still interlaced with yours, and you couldn’t help but miss his warm hands once he let them go.

You sat in a corner close to the window. A while later, Minho got back. You gaze at him, but his eyes are already on you.

You could guess what he was thinking. "I warned you, Y/n. Many. Times." He would even put that little smirk on his face. Then his eyebrows would frown, and he’d think of a solution to make you feel better.

Minho let his weight fall into the chair, sitting lazily. His lips turned, and you saw the smugness in his face mixed with frustration. I think I can read you too.

“I told you it wouldn’t end well.”

You lay your head on the table. “Satisfied you were right?”

“Very much, but I’m not happy to see you sad. It ruins the fun.”

You rolled your eyes and sighed. Your eyes searched the coffee shop and focused on the waitress coming to your table.

Minho got two hot chocolates and two blueberry lemon muffins. You've never had the lemon version before. A yellow cream icing decorated the top of the muffin. It looked too sweet and too happy. You wanted something bitter.

“Don’t let your mood spoil the food. The muffin is good. Eat it.”

You gave in. The muffin was indeed really good, and the sourness of the lemon made everything right. You ate all of it. Too fast, even, and then you drank the hot chocolate, which was just as delicious. Minho let out a snort, still eating his muffin.

“What?” You shrugged. “Sadness makes me hungry.”

His eyes softened for a second, and his gaze darkened. "I’ll help you with your appetite."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt your skin tingle, but you didn’t know why.

You only knew you were craving salty food now.

Minho’s apartment was small but cozy. The open kitchen on one side, and a big window occupying the whole wall on the other side. A corridor leading to his room. The living room was filled with things for his cat; a sofa and TV, some shelves with a few books, most of them yours. Your safeplace.

As soon as he entered, you heard him calling his cats with a sweet voice that made you smile a little. The first actual one that night.

You see him kneeling down as two cats approach. The third one, Dori, just looked at the scene by the corridor. Minho’s eyes softened, and his body relaxed as he caressed them.

In the end, you asked for a pizza on the way to his house. You placed the bag of food on the counter of the open kitchen and sat in the chair when your phone buzzed. It was Felix calling.

Fuck.

Your stomach dropped. You need to answer the call, but what would you say?

A lump formed in your throat. You kept looking at your phone, indecision creeping up on you, and when you were about to answer, Minho got your phone off your hands.

“Hey!” You protest, trying to get your phone back.

“What?” he said, and scoffed. “Are you really going to answer his call?” Minho came closer and stopped between your thighs, his arms crossed, hiding your phone. His mouth twisted as he glared at you. "And what then? Or you think he won't recognize your crying voice?”

You stiffen and bite your lips. “He will be worried about me if I don't answer. I don’t want to ruin his night.”

Minho stared at you for a while and rolled his eyes, sighing. “Fine, call him. But say I had a headache, and you took me home.”

“You want me to lie to him?”

“Isn’t that what you've been doing to him this whole time? With your feelings?” He arched a brow at you.

This time it was you who stared at him, and letting out a groan, you got the phone back from him.

You tried not to pout as you called Felix back, annoyance taking over all your feelings for a second. You knew Minho was right, but he could hold his thoughts sometimes and let you be happy with your wrongness.

Felix answered on the first call.

“Where are you? Are you ok?” He said. Just by hearing his worried voice, your heart squeezed. You could perfectly picture his frowning expression, biting his lips, and shoulders a little tense. You heard faint music too, and Hyunjin’s laugh.

"I am. Minho had a headache, and I got him home," you said, watching Minho, with his satisfied smile, take the food from the bag and put it on plates.

“But is he okay? Do you need anything? I—”

“He will be fine. Don't worry. I’ll stay here for a while just in case.” Your leg started to bounce, and Minho placed one hand on it as he did the table. His hands were warm, and his eyes soft on yours.

“Okay. If you need anything, call me, hm?”

"Yeah," you say, and for less than a second, it lingers there. You wanted to say more. You wanted to say everything. All your feelings that you kept inside your heart for years. But you didn’t have the courage. Not in the past, and certainly not now. So instead, you only replied, "Have a good night."

“Love you,” Felix said, and you closed your eyes with his words, your heart aching even more. You can’t answer him. You can't say, "I love you too," because the meaning of your "I love you" is different from his. So you just ended the call.

You look at the floor, trying to empty your mind and ease the headache that has started to appear. One of Minho’s cats walked close to your legs.

“Let’s eat,” Minho said. He got a chair on the other side of the counter.

The pizza tasted delicious, and focusing only on eating made the pain in your heart easier to bear.

Now, you rested on the sofa while Minho washed the dishes.

You spread yourself out, looking at the ceiling. You close your eyes and focus only on what you can hear, trying not to think of the last couple hours.

There were Minho’s dishes clashing slightly, his small humming, calm and secure. The cats' noises and purrs; the sound of the city; the laughter of pedestrians going back home; some horns loose in the wind; the engines of cars and buses.

When you opened your eyes, Minho was walking toward you. Your eyes met, and he arched a brow.

“Too comfortable, aren’t you?” he said. The corners of his lips turned up.

“Just doing what you said.”

He holds your feet up to make room for him to sit, then puts them back on his lap.

“What a good girl you are,” he said.

Something in his words caused a small twist in your stomach, and you chose to ignore it.

He turned the TV on and searched for a movie. He wanted to watch Doctor Stranger, but you whined about it being boring, and after a lot of back and forth, he opted for Guardians of the Galaxy.

As the movie goes on, your body catches the fatigue of the day. You yawn, and your muscles start to relax once Minho begins to massage your foot and caress your legs. His touch was nice. Comforting.

Your eyes felt heavy, so you closed them, letting them rest just for a little while.

When you wake up, the TV is on but with no sound, so you look up to see Minho on his phone.

"Next time you whine about a movie, I’ll ignore you."

You smile a little and spread yourself. You sit slowly, your shoulder brushing Minho’s. Dori, who was comfortable in his lap, slipped away to the corner of the window. Your eyes follow the cat until your gaze lands outside, noticing the city asleep, a few windows lit only for the nocturnals, and barely any sound of cars. What time is it?

"I should go. It's late."

"That’s why you should stay," Minho said, still not looking at you.

"I want to rest in my bed."

"My bed is better."

"I don’t have my things here," you said, trying to find an excuse to go back home.

You see him rolling his eyes, and you can't hide your smile.

"Use my things. I have an extra toothbrush."

"But I—"

"Y/n."

"Minho."

He sighed and put his phone down. Then he stares at you. Minho's face was so close to yours that you saw the details of his big and dark iris, his big eyelashes, and plump lips.

"Why do you want to go back?"

You open your mouth to answer, but then close it again. You wanted to see Felix. Why? Probably because you’re an idiot.

Like he could read your thoughts, Minho said, "If you're lucky, you’ll be alone, but what if Hyunjin and Felix are still there?" Then he leaned toward you, his nose almost brushing yours, his eyes holding a storm inside them. "Are you sure you wanna hear them fucking?"

Your breath caught in your throat. It felt like he’d punched you. There he goes again, saying truths you don't want to hear.

Then the rage erupts out of you.

"Shut the fuck up, Minho!" You storm out of the sofa, away from him.

It was the frustration; the unfairness of you being the one who got your heart broken; the fact that you were not enough to be loved; your fear of losing Felix—that you’ll have to spend the rest of your life seeing him fall deeper and deeper in love with someone else who is not you—it was all of it that made your body tremble, made tears sting the back of your eyes, and a lump hurt your throat.

Regret crawls instantly into your body with your outburst. You didn’t want to fight. You didn’t want to feel.

Minho was right. If you went back, you'd certainly see a scene that would break your heart even more. Just thinking about it made your heart twist inside, like a knife was stuck in there. But you couldn’t help how you feel.

Like he was dealing with a scared cat, Minho silently walked towards you.

He didn't touch you, but he got so close that you felt the warmth of his body, and he stayed still until you calmed down.

"I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that," he said, almost whispering at you.

You felt his fingertips brushing your cheek. The motion was so soft and heartwarming that you felt tears fall again. Why am I crying so much?

"I’m sorry too. For screaming."

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he said, so caringly, with such kindness in his eyes.

Your body moved for you, and you let your head fall over his chest. It was warm, and you nuzzled in it, feeling his arms circling you and pulling you to him.

"What do I do, Minho? Help me, please."

You stayed there for a while. His heart was beating fast, and his hands caressed your back and your neck. You wanted to lose yourself in him.

Just for this moment, you didn't want to think of anyone else.

You looked at him to see he was already staring. You knew Minho was attractive, but it never made your heart race. Until now, that is.

"You are so pretty," you said, not holding your words.

He arched his brow, a shy smile playing on his lips. "You are more."

Something fluttered from your chest to your stomach. His voice was so endearing; so soft. You smile and look at your feet, but his hand stops you and moves your head toward his. His warm fingers gently wiped your tears away.

"I can help make the pain go away. If you allow me..."

Your heart stopped. A part of your brain said no right away. It wouldn't be wise. After all, he’s your friend, and you shouldn't use him like that. But Minho wasn't the type to say such a thing lightly; he knew what he was getting into. And your heart begged to be distracted just a little.

Minho stared at you with lust and something else in his eyes. The tension between you two made it harder for you to breathe. Your heart was racing with the images that formed in your mind. Of Minho and you.

You wish you’d known what he was thinking.

"Are you sure?" You said, ignoring your brain's screams of "bad idea, no, it’s not right," and trying to focus on your body and how Minho's lips might feel in yours, or how he would make you forget the thorns in your heart.

His hands were on your hips, and your chest collided with his. His face got even closer—his lips a breath away. "Let's forget them together, Y/n."

It was enough for you to kiss him.

Minho's lips were sweet. He kissed you slowly, asking with every sweep of his mouth across yours to be his tonight. And you give in to him, parting your lips, and let his tongue slip inside. Your hands went to his shoulders, and he pulled you by your waist, holding you close to him.

His lips moved to your jaw, nipping and licking as his hands slowly lowered to your hips, pressing against your skin.

Pulling you even closer until he was the only thing you could think of. The only one you wanted to kiss, and never stop.

Your breath hitched as he licked your earlobe with the tip of his tongue before dragging his teeth. Minho moved the tip of his nose along your neck, his lips softly grazing your skin, until he placed a kiss on your throat. Your hands went to his neck, pulling his lips to yours. He didn’t hesitate, kissing you deeply. "My room," he said against your lips, and you only nodded.

His room was dark, and you walked to raise the blinds, letting all the moonlight enter the room.

Your eyes roamed at the scenario outside the window, to the buildings, the empty streets, the moon, and the stars. It must be almost 3 a.m. now.

Minho’s presence was strong behind you. You could feel the thick tension around both of you. His chest touched your back, and you felt his skin. You wonder when did he took his shirt off.

Minho’s hands went up to your waist, but a little too high, where his fingers grazed the lower part of your breast.

You wanted his hands on you. Right now.

"You can still back off now, Y/n."

You knew that, but you didn’t want to think tonight. Only feel.

"I want it," you said, and turned to see him, the light of the moon illuminating his beautiful features and his hungry eyes. "I want you tonight."

"Only tonight?" He said, stepping closer to you, his lips a breath away from yours. You find his eyes. You didn’t know what he meant by that question, and you didn’t know what to answer.

Your hands moved to his torso and traveled to his hips. They linger there until your eyes search for him again, asking for permission.

"Go on, kitten."

The nickname made your stomach twist, and you opened the button of his jeans. Noticing he was getting hard, you pushed his trousers down. He helps you take them off. When he finishes, your eyes dart to his body.

Minho looked like a lost god on earth.

Your body suddenly felt too hot with your clothes on, even if it was just a dress. His hands went to your waist, dragging you to him.

You wanted to kiss him, even if someone else was in the back of your mind. You desperately wanted to kiss Minho. And so you did.

His plump lips enveloped yours as your tongues slid against each other, tasting each other. But Minho didn’t give you time to savor the kiss.

He shoved you into bed. You saw a devilish smirk on his face. You can’t help but bite your lips, trying to hold back your excitement. Minho was your friend, but you can’t deny he is hot as fuck.

He was on top of you, eyes roamed your body until one of his hands cupped your breast and the other stroked the tops of your thighs, reaching for the hem of your dress. Your hands went to his body, feeling the hard muscles of his shoulder, chest, and abs.

He bent down, and you leaned to kiss him, but he denied you by merely brushing his lips on yours.

"Don’t tease me," you say as Minho smiles softly at you.

"But it’s so fun to tease you."

His hands pull your dress up, and you sit to help him take it off of you. You saw his eyes observing your body like a painter would a painting. His finger unclipped your bra, and your neck got a little warm as he got rid of it.

Then his eyes met yours, and again you felt a fire burning inside you, gaining more and more flames.

His hands went to your aching breasts, palming them, cold fingers grazing your nipples. He was only touching you, but you were already overwhelmed. You pull him into a kiss, feeling his plump lips on yours. A whine came out of your mouth as he pressed harder, and your hands tightened around his shoulders.

He broke the kiss as his fingers tugged and squeezed your nipple, pausing only a couple of times to thumb on the very tip.

"Tell me where you want me to touch you." He said, with his breath in your neck. You shiver with his lips brushing against your skin and close your thighs to seek friction.

"Oh, you want me here?"

His fingers traced your body from your ankles, then slowly up to the back of your knees, and your eyes closed at the sensitive feeling.

"Or here?" He said, his eyes staring at yours. He took his time to reach your inner thigh, and your pussy already clenched on nothing.

"Higher," you say, almost desperate.

And you felt his finger moving upward. You opened your legs to let him in, but Minho skipped the place you wanted him the most, and his hands went to your hips. Teasing you again.

"Minho," you whine.

"Tell me exactly what you want."

You see his teasing smile, head tilted to the side. You were slightly annoyed, but your needy spoke louder, and you answered him in one exhale. "Your hands on my pussy."

He pecks your lips. "Good girl."

In a smooth movement, Minho takes your panties off you, letting you completely naked. His eyes stared at you. Like you were his prey. Your heart raced as he got closer again, as his cold hands touched you hips. You were at his mercy, and you liked it.

In a smooth movement, Minho takes your panties off, leaving you completely naked. His eyes stared at you. Like you were his prey. Your heart raced as he got closer again. His cold hands touched your hips.

You were at his mercy, and you liked it.

His hands moved downward until they finally traced your wetness, exploring your folds gently and slowly.

You breathe out his name.

He bent down to kiss you, biting your lower lips, licking and kissing you deeply, his mouth moving at the same rhythm as his finger did. You didn't know how much longer you could hold yourself.

Minho was not only playing with your body but also with your mind.

You gasped when he pressed his fingertip on your clit, before circling it. The pressure made your insides tighten. Minho slides his fingers inside you, preparing you for him. The climax came faster than you expected, and you came on his hands.

Minho kissed you then said, in a whisper, "Can I taste you?"

You only gave him a nod before he shifted between your legs. You sink into his bed, spreading your legs further. Your back arched in anticipation when you felt his breath on your pussy.

"Patience, kitten."

And his words made you wetter. Minho pressed a gentle kiss before lightly flicking his tongue over your clit, teasing you more than anything.

You looked at him, and his head went up, like he felt you staring, and he smirked at you before diving down on you, finally giving you what you needed.

He licks your pussy and sucks your clit, making you a screaming mess. The way he fucks you with his tongue makes you high, and you never want to come down again. You writhe under his touch, and he holds you firmly. Minho is relentless with his mouth. The pleasure builds in your clit, and when he starts fucking you with three fingers, you scream. His tongue doesn't stop sliding along your wet slit.

"Come, kitten," he says, "come for me."

Like your body obeyed him, you felt the waves of pleasure swallow you until you drowned in him. Your hands thread through Minhos’s hair and guide him over you as the orgasm overflows you.

Minho got up, wrapped his hand around your waist, and pulled you to him. His other hand found the back of your neck, and he had a devilish smirk.

"Such a good girl for me."

Then he kissed you, harsh, impetuous, and a little bit vicious.

You parted your lips, welcoming his tongue, exploring your mouth, and feeling yourself in him. But that’s all you could do as Minho devoured you, pressing you against him while his fingers angled your head back. He was taking control, deepening the kiss, almost like he was possessing you, owning you with every move of his tongue, and pressing his lips.

You love it.

His hands went to your hips, and Minho scooted over the edge of the bed and dragged you to his lap.

"Condom?"

"I don’t mind without it. I’m on pills, but if you want—"

He kissed you again, humping his hips against you, letting you feel how painfully hard he is.

“I want you,” Minho said. His lips go to your neck, sucking your skin. “I can’t hold myself any longer.”

You open your legs more. Your eyes are on him when he slides his cock inside you. Moans and groans come out of both of you. He was stretching you so well. So good.

"Come on, kitten," he said, with a firm grip on your hips. "Bounce on my cock."

You sit on your knees on the bed, wrap your arms around Minho’s shoulders, and slide him out and back in. His fingers gripped your thighs hard, driving you down on him.

"Minho." You moan as you look at him. Admiring him.

His hair was out of his face, and a little sweat ran down his temple. The muscles of his arms and shoulders, his chest, and his abs all constricted as he shoved into you. Such a beautiful sight. But the best part—the one that brought a flutter to your stomach—was his dark eyes, holding so much in them. And his lips, always begging to be kissed.

At least for tonight.

You clench around him, and he throbs inside of you.

"Fuck, kitten."

Minho captures your nipples with his mouth, licking and biting, making you yelp and jolt against him.

Then, the pleasure builds again, and you rock your clit against him, grinding against Minho and sliding down his cock.

Minho thrusts up, quickening his tempo, and tightens his hold on you as he guides your hips down the length of him. You help him, bouncing relentlessly as both of you get closer to come.

"Fuck. Just like that."

He grows harder inside you, and his chest rises and falls quickly. Your heart hammered inside you, your breathing picked up, and you felt your head dizzy, high with desire.

"Oh yeah, Y/n. Fuck—"

Your pleasure flourished as Minho’s entire body tensed. He growled and slammed into you, filling you with his cum. And you come with him, your head in his neck, losing yourself one more time in his arms.

You were spread out in Minho’s bed, looking out the window, still dizzy after the pleasure of the night. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but you could see its rays starting to appear. You didn't know what to feel. You still wanted to cry, and your heart still beats for another. Will time change your feelings?

Minho was behind you, arms wrapped around your waist, but the rest of his body didn’t touch yours. You didn’t know if you wanted to, either.

You recall the memories of the beginning of the night and how he was gentle with you, caring about you. It wouldn’t be bad to love him. He was your friend. There was intimacy.

You knew he wanted to forget someone else too. Should you two help each other like this? Would it make a mess even bigger than it is now? It feels like it would.

You heard him wake up with a soft grunt. He rolled to your side entirely until his chest touched your back. His head went to your neck, and his arms caged you tightly. You moved back a little, searching for more of the warmth of his chest.

"Did you sleep?" He asked. The motion of his lips on your neck made you shiver. His voice was low and rusky. You never heard his voice like that. It makes your body tingle with desire. The pain in your heart subsides as his chest rises and falls against your back.

"A little."

He hummed. You felt him stay there, just breathing you. What now? Should you say anything? Should you go home? Home made your heart ache. You close your eyes, not wanting to think about the day ahead.

"Minho."

"Y/n."

"Do you think the coffee shop is already open?"

"Maybe, why?"

"I liked a little too much of that muffin."

He snorted and placed a gentle kiss on your neck. "Let’s grab some then," he said, holding you even closer. His arms were big, and you felt safe in them. You both stayed there, neither of you moving to get out of bed.

A lump started to form in your throat, and you held back the tears that threatened to form. Last night, you were so sure you’d be all alone. Go through the pain alone. But Minho is here, by your side. Holding you tight.

"Minho."

"Y/n."

"Thank you," you said, your voice quivering. You needed to get it off your chest.

"What for?" Minho said, and you were sure that if you turned to look at him, you'd see the frown on his sleepy face.

You took a deep breath and said, "For everything, for last night, for being my friend."

For helping me pick up my shattered heart when I thought no one would do it anymore.

You felt him smile in your neck, and his lips brushed on it, tracing your skin to the end of your shoulder and all the way up, biting you until you shivered.

"Maybe more than friends now."

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

PS: You can’t catch the flu just because you’re out in the cold weather.

Author's note: Hi! I hope you liked this story. English is my second language, so please excuse my errors. Constructive feedback is always appreciated! I do not permit any form of copying, translation, or reposting of my work.

Did you enjoy this? If so, please reblog it. Thank you for reading! Sending love 🖤

#lee know smut #minho smut #stray kids smut #lee know x reader #straykidsland #lee know x y/n #minho x reader #lee minho x y/n #lee minho x reader #minho x y/n #skz smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #minho fic #lee know fanfic

1K notes · View notes

lilacgaby · 3 months ago

Text

day one

~2k

chapter select!

i do not got this.

[name] could barely sleep because of her nerves. she kept replaying the worst scenarios possible in her head.

what if he rejected her in front of everyone? she'd have to leave the school from the embarrassment. she'd be trash-- the trash of society!

maybe she just needed to eat.

she crawled out of bed, put on her house slippers, and made her way down to the kitchen.

she saw a couple other early risers along the way, momo greeted her and congratulated her on her successful mission, and iida told her not to stay out past curfew.

same old, same old.

she started to make some chai to drink. "maybe momo would want some, i should make her a glass." [name] pondered out loud while preparing the tea.

she went up to give the glass to momo. "ah, thank you [name]!"

"no problem momo."

she then on her way down, eyed katsuki who was heading to the kitchen at the same time as her.

okay [name]. stay cool.

she poured herself a glass. he walked up beside her.

"yo."

"hey, you want some chai?"

"sure."

she poured him some in a glass, and he nodded appreciatively.

so far so good. she didn't even need a third wheel.

katsuki looked around as if to make sure no one else was with them, then he said...

"did you see when usui kissed misa, and jumped off the building?"

"yes! it was so cute, he really is the best."

"how did he not break his legs though? he should've broken a leg, it would've been such an easy plot point to develop. she could've taken care of him and gotten closer to him that way."

[name] thought for a second. "i mean, maybe the author thought it was too predictable though? you gotta read the next volume. what happens next is so cool!"

"no spoilers [name]."

she sighed. "it wouldn't be spoilers if you weren't such a slow reader. hurry up! it's literally pictures!"

"you didn't even finish ouran high school host club loser. don't talk to me."

"pfft. i watched the anime, who needs the manga?"

"the anime didn't even go in depth to all the arcs!"

"whatever man."

"do you even remember the characters?"

"yes i do! i'm not an idiot."

"then who's your favorite host?"

"kyoya."

"why?"

"because-" oh no. "because sometimes he reminds me of--"

"heya guys! what're you doing? flirting over here?" kirishima exclaimed. expertly cutting her off.

she really did need a third wheel. and she did need to thank kirishima and call him the manliest man in the world, because he really saved her ass.

"no, shut up shittyhair." katsuki remarked, before going off to the side to cook something.

'thank you!' [name] mouthed.

'for what?' kirishima mouthed back.

she facepalmed internally, but mouthed back, 'i'll tell you later.'

he did a signature smile, before going to pester bakugo.

she was saved, for now. she went to go get cleaned up for classes. she did her hair, a bit of makeup, ironed her clothes, and readied her bag.

now, to survive school.

✧˖*°࿐

luckily, she sat next to mina the entire day. unluckily, all the girls in the class were avid gossipers. which would've been great.. every week except this one.

normally [name] would never be nervous while gossiping. she could read others like a hawk, and if she didn't have shoes on, she could focus to an extent and feel their heart beats to confirm or deny whatever they're saying.

of course, she wasn't a bully. she'd only ever think about whether they were lying or telling the truth to herself. she just wished she could keep it to herself today.

"hey [name]." oh no.

"we all always talk about our crushes and stuff-"

stop please.

"so we gotta ask,"

mina please step up!

"we gotta ask why you're so respectful? like c'mon! live a little and talk a bit of trash about some people. there's gotta be something or someone you don't like." mina cut in, saving the day.

who knew the third wheeling would extend to people she didn't even have a crush on?

"uh, well it's not that i don't like people, it's more i don't wanna bother myself thinking about them."

"really? well, who don't you like?" damn it jirou and your good questions.

"mineta." phew, good save me!

"that's too easy of an answer, like, do you hate anyone from 1-b?" Uraraka asked.

yay another easy answer! "i don't hate anyone from 1-b."

the girls all seemed to accept it, phew, nobody ask the opposite and we're good.

"hey, but aren't we asking [name] the wrong question?" tsuyu suddenly said

no! not when i was just safe!

"oh yeah, [name]. who do you like?"

"b--"

"who's ready to learn?" present mic yelled as he jumped onto one of the desks in the front.

"get down. alright settle down and get into your seats. class is starting." mr. aizawa said, the commotion effectively covering her answer.

the girls all went to their seats.

--------

the next hurdle was lunch time. piece of cake.

except for the fact that she'd always sit in between katsuki and mina.

no big deal.

everything started out normal. everyone besides bakugo did their best to not question [name] directly, as they found out only when it was directed to her that she'd be forced to answer.

bakugo was luckily never much of a talker himself, only butting in to defend himself or jokingly insult others, even though majority of his insults held no weight.

but sometimes they'd catch themselves in the middle of their sentences, and have to fix their speech before [name] would be forced to answer. the goal post was moved from not confessing to not making her answer any odd questions at all. because bakugo would definitely notice her robotic answers.

"yeah like, didn't [name] totally-- i mean uh-- didn't we all totally flunk that test?"

"[name] remember when we-- uh-- i mean guys remember when we snuck out that one time?"

"which time?"

"dude, the convenience worker totally has a crush on [name]! right [na--] uh-- everyone?"

[name] focused almost unconsciously, and she noticed that katsuki's heart beat was speeding up for some reason. huh.

"you idiots are acting weird today." bakugo said out of no where.

"what? pfft. no way." sero said, trying to play it off.

"you're crazy man, i mean.. we're all acting normal. it's you who's acting weird!" denki said, before laughing awkwardly.

"yeah something is definitely up. how many of you dumbasses are in on it?"

"what? bakugo you're being uh-- irrational."

"since when do you talk like that raccoon eyes?"

"uh-- since i studied?"

everyone face palmed at that.

"okay the jig is up. the fuck is going on?"

"uh.. gotta go. i'm uh-- real hungry! needa get some sun y'know? see ya!" [name] left before anyone could stop her.

mina followed after her, leaving denki, sero, and kirishima to use the collective 5 brain cells they have to try and convince bakugo that nothing was up.

she was so gonna owe them more than a dinner for this.

၄၃

[name] didn't know what lie they were gonna come up with. and to be honest, she really didn't want to find out.

as she sat on the rooftop, she let the chloroplasts out on her skin, which made her have a couple green-ish spots all over.

"eating really does help." [name] murmured.

"watching you eat is so crazy! i mean you're literally turning green!" mina said, eyes wide and wonder filled.

"...you're literally pink.. but okay."

"hey, can't we ask mr. aizawa to nullify the quirk while we're in class?"

"... mina that is the smartest thing you've ever said."

"cool! we'll need to update everyone at our daily meeting today. as long as he agrees we'll only need to worry about other times!"

"we should go now, before class starts."

"okay! you go ahead, i'm gonna go see what our other agents said to bakugo."

"agents?"

"just go!"

‧₊˚✩彡

"um.. mr. aizawa? may i come in?"

"yes." he grumbled sleepily. he was in his sleeping bag, barely looking up at her.

"what is it [name]? is this to clear up about you being on the floor? because i really didn't care."

"uh.. no. this is about something that happened while i was on the mission."

"go on." she could tell that even though he seemed completely uninterested, that she had his full attention.

"well, you see, i was hit by a quirk. a truth telling quirk. and it's going to last for 6 more days."

"oh?"

"and.. i'd really appreciate your help. if you could nullify my quirk during just time when we're sitting in the classroom, it'd help a lot." she bowed respectfully as she made her request.

the room was silent as aizawa was seemingly thinking it over.

"sure, why not."

"thank you! i won't forget this!"

��

the second half of the day went by like a breeze. because mr. aizawa was cancelling her quirk, she lived her life in temporary peace for the remaining hours of the school day.

she smiled with relief, everything is going good now.

she cleared up her answer with the girls while she still could,

"guys, i don't have a crush on anyone. im just too busy."

and then she relaxed fully.

the walk to the dorms was easy, she didn't have to worry about dinner since she didn't eat, and she could always call an early night to get out of uncomfortable situations.

easy peezy.

she had no time to talk to bakugo for the rest of the day, since he had such an early bed time.

at last.. the daily meeting was here.

"alright guys! great saves today! here are the rankings for best agents. [name] would you do the honors?"

"yes. unless the honors is a person. i do not know them well enough to do them.

...

just give me the damn chalk."

mina held back a laugh while she walked up.

"okay, on the bottom we have.. denki."

"what? no way!"

"yes way! you were being way too obvious earlier! which brings me to my next loser: sero."

"no way, this is rigged."

"no it's not! what point of no questions do you not understand! anyways

next up, we have kirishima. amazing work this morning!"

kirishima bowed jokingly.

"and lastly, one for one, we have alien queen mina!"

"this is so rigged!"

"obviously she'd win, they're best friends!"

"sounds like jealously! anyways-- thank you [name]! take a seat."

[name] took a seat as mina resumed her place as the leader.

"okay agents! we have a new addition to the team: mr. aizawa!"

"what?" everyone said collectively.

"correct! i came up with the brillant idea for him to use his power on [name] during class time when we're all just sitting around. that's how i earned top spot!

so now, our sub-operation is this:

plan [name]'s perfect confession."

"what?" [name] scoffed, "that's not part of this operation!"

"and besides.. with what denki told bakubro earlier.. we can't go on with that yet."

"what the hell did you idiots tell him?!"

"we just said you were embarrassed because you have crazy woman issues and don't want anyone to question you right now! he interpreted that however he did!" denki defended.

"hey-- i didn't say any of that. it was all you man."

"way to throw me to the wolf sero!"

"just get out! all of you!"

"meeting over guys!"

"mina what the hell?! i thought you went to make sure they didn't say anything super stupid!"

"i did! but it was too late.. see ya [n/name]!"

my life is over.

prev | next!

#bakugo #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #bakugo fluff #bakugo x reader #bakugo katuski #bnha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #anime fic #anime #fluff

124 notes · View notes

auspicioustidings · 1 year ago

Note

I love your work! May I please request ghost finding a captured civilian in an enemy base and taking her for himself?

Ah little posessive freak Ghost my beloved <3 I didn't know if you were looking for fluff or twisted Simon so I've leant towards the latter!

CW: Attempted rape (non-graphic), kidnapping

They had been warned there were going to be civillians in the building, but it wasn't the first time Ghost had to work around hostages to get the job done. It was an understanding on the team that whereever possible it wasn't going to be the huge fucker in the skull mask who dealt with that side of things. If they knew where hostages were being kept, that's where they sent Gaz or Johnny or even Price to settle them and get them out. Not the Ghost.

And that was working smoothly once again. Gaz had radioed in saying he found where they were being kept, had taken out their guards and would wait for the all clear for an exit route for the handful of doubtless terrified little civilians looking at him like he was the second coming for saving them.

They were all accounted for and that always made Ghost feel some tension bleed away. The last thing he needed to be worrying about was hostage situations.

The rest of the mission was easy enough, taking out any enemies and finding the saferoom to snoop around in for intel. It was laughably easy to get into. Saferooms only really worked if the person who knew the code didn't spill it at the first little twist of an arm, the press of a knife against their throat. They only worked if they were used. But obviously playing at warlord the man was arrogant, thought he could easily take on whoever came at him. Idiot. The moment he had the code, Ghost had no more use for him until he could get him somewhere for a proper interrogation, so he was smacked in the skull with a pistol and out cold. His fingerprints and eye scanner worked just fine even with him unconcious and the code he had given beeped with a green light and the click of a lock.

It was a damn good thing that you assumed it was your captor coming in and so were aiming the cast iron at where his face would be. Instead it smacked into the tactical vest of a much taller man. You hissed and spat and fought like a feral cat when the man immediately reacted by grabbing your wrist and twisting so you cried out and dropped the pan. There went your weapon, there wasn't much else to use in this little safe room but for the small implements in the kitchen and you hadn't felt confident with a knife. A blunt object with a larger surface area had felt like a better bet.

"Don't fucking touch me! I'll claw your fucking eyes out!" you spat out at what you were sure was a bloody monster.

You had been a victim of wrong place wrong time about 12 hours prior. You had broken down on a stretch of road that barely got any use and had fuck all phone signal to get help, so were at the mercy of someone passing by. Just your luck the someone passing by was some slimy asshole with a compound nearby he thought to drag you to. He had found out quickly he wasn't getting his hands on you without a fight. You were a bit of a mess, shirt torn and what you suspected was a cracked orbital bone from where he had punched you after you bit his tongue. You wished you had bit fucking harder.

The only thing that had saved you in the end was the alarm going off. The man had thrown you into the safe room, telling you that once he had dealt with whoever dared break into his base he was going to fuck you bloody. You'd kill him before he got the chance. You'd fucking kill him before all this adrenaline fuelled fight turned into fear and had you accepting your fate.

The monster in the skull mask didn't have the laugh of a monster. It was gruff but there was something very genuine about it. He had his hands on both of your wrists, locking them so you couldn't scratch at him with yout body pulled right into him so you couldn't kick either. Your wrists were pinned at your chin so you couldn't even bite at him. Didn't much stop you from fighting, trying to just drop all of your weight to get him off balance. The added weight did not phase him in the slightest.

"Settle sweetheart, I'm the good guy."

"Do good guys often wear skull masks?!" you hissed back, still struggling to no avail.

He manouvered so that you could see out of the doorway and to the passed out man on the floor.

"They do when they're going after bad guys."

It was like all the adrenaline had finally burned off at right that moment and you felt yourself go boneless in his hold, fight gone. You had a sick moment of being disappointed that you could see that the man was still breathing.

"We sure all the civilians are accounted for?"

You felt a little dazed as you squinted back at him before realising he must have been speaking on the radio. Whatever he heard back must have been interesting because he looked at you, considering, before twisted the little dial to another channel.

"Got a stray, let's keep it out of the reports."

Simon knew that the 141 would back him up. After all, him and the Seargants had always admired the relationship between Price and his wife even if when they first met she kept trying to murder him. She had grown out of it after a few years.

And Simon had never felt like this before. He thought you truly would have killed him if you had been able when he opened the door. It was love at first murder attempt for him.

He cooed at you and comforted you the whole way through exfil. It wasn't until you realised that you couldn't leave that it really started getting fun.

#mhairidrabbles #cod #fanfic #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #the two things that you can blame bo for are Johnny always winding up puppy coded and the 141 just abducting partners #also the idea that Price is going to be the one coaching Ghost through this whole abduction and seduction act #mhairidrabblescodkidnappers

560 notes · View notes

bloody-peach · 10 months ago

Text

Eat Me, Drink Me (Hazbin Hotel: Vox x F!Reader smut fic)

(Gif made by me, original image found on google images)

~~~♡♡♡~~~

Now Playing: Muse - Sing for Absolution, Marilyn Manson - Blood Honey

Goodie bag: vaginal sex, drugs (aphrodisiac), vaginal fingering, clit rubbing, drinking, dom Vox, bottom Y/N, vanilla stuff around the end [let me know if i missed anything!]

A/N: Yep, had to make some smut with Vox now, didn't I? Welp, here ya go! I would recommend listening to the recommended songs while reading this, to get into the atmosphere. Headphones required, just for added experience. ENJOY!!

Taglist: @omniuravity @fatgumsurpremacy-remastered @neonvehk

~~~♡♡♡~~~

You left the Hotel, exhausted. You had to deal with Niffty trying to kill new guests, Angel Dust’s bullshit with Cherri Bomb, and Husk drinking his life away on top of all the other duties you had there. But the worst of the worst was Alastor, he always loved to torment you and make you suffer or feel scared. Even now as you walk further away from the building, you could still hear his laugh deep in your mind. At least you were able to leave for the night, but you always felt like someone was watching you. Someone....much more powerful than you.

Vox, the TV Demon, has had his eye on you for some time, ever since he caught you on the hotel’s TV commercial. He remembers pausing the clip when it froze on you and he’d jack off, just imagining of what he could do to you. He was obsessed. And he decided that tonight was the night.

You kept walking when you heard electricity buzzing. You looked and it was just a broken neon sign, but it still left you uncomfortable. You kept walking, but the buzzing came back. You started to quicken your pace to try to escape the noise or the potential source of it, but it just kept following you, even when you started to run. You then run into a brick wall, realizing you must’ve turned a wrong way while you ran. You just turned with your back against the wall, unable to escape. You saw a glowing blue square in the dark along with small blue zaps of electricity spreading through the area. Soon, the thing came closer to reveal it was Vox, the overlord that controlled the masses through the visual media. You had never met him before, but you felt a sense of dread, thinking this was another guy just like Alastor. Once he came close to you, he said, “It’s nice to finally meet you, darlin'.” You sigh in mild annoyance and say, “Look, I just...Alastor already torments me. If you just want to make my life a living hell like he does, then don’t bother. I don’t need another demon doing it too.” You didn’t have anything against him in particular, you were just too stressed out to deal with another demon who wanted to watch you suffer.

Vox’s red eyes flickered with a mix of confusion, then it turned to deep-seated rage. “Alastor...” he snarled. He controlled himself and then looked at you, with a slightly annoyed look in his face. “Is that why you were running? Because of that radio trash?” He put his hands behind his back, and said, “You know I’m not like him, right? I ain’t the type to get off to torturing folks. Well, not much at least. But you’re different.” He smiled as he placed his hand on your shoulder, “I don’t want to see you suffer, Y/N. I...well, i’m not entirely sure what I want with you.” He looked a little sheepish, an emotion you didn’t expect from him, but he quickly fixed himself and played with a strand of your hair. “But I do know I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I don’t plan on hurting you.”

You wondered why he knew your name, but then another thought came to mind. “Wait...you know Alastor?” He then chuckled, saying, “Do I know him? I wish I didn’t. That motherfucker and I go way back. Can’t stand him, frankly. He’s all about radio and all that outdated shit, but me? I’m all for anything new, as you can see.” He then petted your head. “Has he been giving you a hard time? Of course he would, he always enjoys that kind of shit. You poor thing.” His gaze softened as you put your head down, your expression full of fear and sadness, due to those traumatic memories. Vox gently grabbed your chin and brought your head up to look at him, saying with an unusual tenderness, “I promise you, Y/N, I ain’t like that. I can be...different. If you’d let me.”

You got the sense that he seemed to care for your struggles, but you’ve been in Hell for a long time. Very rarely have you encountered a person who actually cared about anyone. The only ones you knew of were Charlie and Vaggie, and out of all of Hell, that’s saying something. How can you trust what this man was saying? How can you be sure he isn’t out to hurt you or take advantage of you?

You look away from him, your face still holding that sad expression. “I want to believe you, but...how do I know you’re not just manipulating me? This is Hell, after all. Hard to find a genuine soul around here.” Vox sighed, the sound of static echoing through the alleyway. His eyes held a look of understanding, a flash of empathy. “Can’t say I blame ya for thinkin’ that way,” he admitted. “This place isn’t exactly known for its honesty.” He petted your head again, this time almost touching his forehead on yours, his voice going soft. “I don't know if I can promise you heaven, Y/N. But what I can promise you is that I ain’t here to make your life more miserable than it already is.” He then extended his hand, a smile on his face, “How about we try something? No tricks, no manipulation. Just you and I. See where it goes.”

You think about it. Well, he did seem pretty convincing, and whatever he had to offer had to be much better than what you have to deal with on a day-to-day basis.

You sigh and say as you shake his hand, “Ok.” Vox’s screen lit up with a cheerful grin as he felt your hand in his, the cool electricity sparking between your fingers. “That’s more like it, Y/N!” He said as he shook your hand. He let go of your hand and stepped back with a flourish. “Now let’s get outta this dump. If we’re gonna be...whatever we are, we might as well do it in style.” He then had an idea, his eyes glowing with excitement. “How about we head to my place? The entertainment district ain’t much, but it beats this shithole any day.” His usual cocky smile returned, the light of his screen casting a glow around the alley. “Besides, I’ve got the best view in Hell. You won’t be disappointed, I can assure you.” You smile, liking the idea. “Ok, that sounds real nice.”

You end up following him to his place and you’re amazed at how luxurious it was. Expensive furniture, so clean you could eat off of the floor, and a couch in front of a large window, showing the hellish night sky. You look out the window and he could see your eyes sparkle with delight as you marveled his abode. “Wow...you can see all of Hell from up here!” He chuckled as he crossed his arms, finding your joy adorable. He could get used to making you this happy. “Told ya, didn’t I? Best view in Hell.” He strode over to join you by the window, his eyes looking down at the fiery grounds below. “You get a good look at this place, you realize it ain’t all that bad. Got its charms, don’t it?” You turn to him and you nod. He turns to look at you, a genuine smile lighting up his screen. “Glad you like it, Y/N. Hopefully it makes your whole...situation a bit more bearable.” His gaze lingered on you for a few moments longer before he turned away to the bar, his screen showing an unclear emotion. “Now, how ‘bout a drink? I got a stash of the finest bourbon in all of Hell. Helps take the edge off.” “A drink sounds great. Thanks.”

He smiles to himself, knowing that you were slowly starting to warm up to him. “One helluva drink, coming right up!” As he grabs the bottle of bourbon, he then had a thought. He sat the bourbon down and dug out a small vial from the inside of his tux. It was a bottle of Valentino and Velvette’s ‘Love Potion’, an aphrodisiac they were collaborating on. Val gave him a bottle as a gift, but he never thought of using it. But knowing what Y/N had been going though day by day, dealing with that radio fucker’s bullshit all the time, he figured that maybe you needed a little something to help you relax, to feel pleasure and bliss instead of pain and fear. It’s not a betrayal of your trust if there’s good intentions behind it, right?

He pours the potion into the bourbon and mixed it, making sure Y/N wasn’t looking. “This stuff’s got a kick like a mule, but it’s smooth. Just like me.” He chuckles at his own joke, and he hears her giggle along with it. Oh, how he adored that laugh and how he hoped that once his plan worked, he would hear more of it, along with other lovely sounds. Once he poured a glass for himself, he brought the glasses to the couch, giving you the tainted drink and offering you to sit on the couch with him. You couldn’t help but blush a tiny bit from how he looked, the way he was sitting, offering you to join him in a moment to yourselves. You sat next to him, a bit shy, but soon relaxing in the couch. Vox raised his glass, the light from his screen reflecting from the swirling liquor. “To new beginnings, Y/N. May they be as interesting as the journey here.” With that, you both clinked your glasses together, the sound echoing through the room as you both take a long sip, his eyes never leaving you. Luckily, you didn’t notice his gaze as you downed the drink completely.

You could handle bourbon pretty well, that’s pretty much what Husk served at the bar usually, but never as high quality as this. “Man, this stuff is really good. Sweeter than any other bourbon I’ve had.” ‘Yeah, that’s the love potion that’s doing that,’ Vox thought in his head. He smirks, watching you enjoy the drink. His heart pounded in his chest, light flicks of static on his screen due to anticipation. “Glad ya like it, Y/N. It’s a special brand, adds a bit of sweetness to the usual burn. Perfect for those wanting to unwind.” He couldn’t deny the thrill he felt, seeing you this relaxed and comfortable in his presence, even if it was artificially manufactured. He knew it must’ve been a rare sight, one he’d yearned to see for a while now.

He finishes his drink, sitting his empty glass on the coffee table. “Feeling better, sweetheart?” He asks, a tinge of genuine concern in his voice. As he asked that, you started to feel a change in your body. You started to feel way more relaxed, your mind beginning to feel a bit hazy. You weren’t sure why; maybe the bourbon was that good. Your body started to feel hot and you could feel a throbbing feeling between your legs. “I...I’m not sure...I...I feel kinda funny...” you say, your voice slightly slurred. Vox’s smirk widened, his eyes glowing with a devilish delight. “Oh, it’s just the effects of the bourbon, darlin’. Besides, you’ve been so stressed out, you haven’t had any time to just sit and relax.” He moved closer, his hand lightly tracing a line up your arm, causing you to shiver. “Just relax and enjoy the ride, Y/N. I promise it’ll be one hell of a time.” His voice drops to a sultry whisper, his breath sending shivers down your spine. “You trust me, don’t you?” You feel your face grow even warmer as he started to pull you closer to him, his face so close to yours. “I..I guess so... You are a lot nicer than Alastor..” Vox chuckled, the sound low and rich in his throat. “Well, that’s the highest praise i’ve ever heard.” His hand rested on the small of your back, his fingers tracing small circles against your shirt. “I told ya, didn’t I? I ain’t like him. Not one bit.” He tilted his screen down, his glowing eyes meeting your slightly dilated ones. “Just relax, my dear. Let ol’ Vox take care of ya. You won’t regret it.” With that, he leaned in, pressing his lips against your forehead softly, something you were confused on how that worked, but that thought flew away like all the others. “Just trust me, Y/N. I won’t let ya down.”

In what your mind could come up with, as you stared at him and as he spoke with you, the thought of letting him take the wheel was starting to sound really good and you figured that it was better to trust him than anyone else in Hell. At least for now. “Ok..” Vox’s screen lit up with a triumphant grin, his red eyes glowing with delight. “That’s my girl,” he purred, his hand tightening around your waist. He leaned in, pressing his lips against yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. He whispered against your lips, “You're so cute, Y/N. Just keep relaxing. There’s no need to fight it.” His other hand started explore, trailing down your body to rest on your thigh. His fingers squeezed gently, a small spark of electricity coursing through your body, causing you to moan. He knew your body was growing more sensitive by the minute. He pulled back, his screen displaying a smug smirk. “That’s it, baby. Enjoy the good feelings. Don’t be afraid, darlin’. I’ll take good care of you.”

His hand continued its exploration, trailing up your thigh to rest on your hip. He dug his fingers into your flesh, pulling you even closer against him. His screen returned to your face, his eyes locking onto yours. “You’re so responsive, sweetheart. It’s...intoxicating.” He leans in to your ear, his screen barely touching it. “I’m here. There’s no need to be scared.” His touch felt so good, all you wanted in that moment was for him to touch you more. “Ok,” you said. Vox chuckled, his eyes glowing with anticipation. “That’s what I like to hear, Y/N.” His hand slid up from your hip, tracing a path up your side and under your shirt. His fingers curled around your breast, squeezing gently, causing a soft gasp to escape your lips. “You’re so sensitive, darlin’. It’s so sweet.” His other hand slid down, resting on your thigh once more. He pulls your leg around him, positioning himself between your legs. He then starts to slowly strip you of your clothes. You were getting really hot, so it was a relief to get all those clothes off. Soon, you were completely nude before him, on full display. Vox’s eyes roamed your naked form, a low buzz rumbing from his chest. “Damn, Y/N. You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.” His hands traced over your body, exploring every inch of your skin. He savored every moan and gasp, his touch sparking bits of static wherever he touched. He leaned in, his lips against your neck. “I'll make you feel all kinds of good, baby...”

His hand slid down, tracing a path down your body to rest between your thighs. His fingers teased your folds, a spark of static making you gasp. “That’s it, Y/N, just enjoy it,” he murmured, his voice a soft whisper in your ear. He then moved his face to you and kissed you deeply. You kissed back just as deep, moaning in his mouth as you felt his fingers slowly slip into your pussy. Vox groaned into the kiss, his fingers going deeper into you. He savored your moans, the taste of you on his screen intoxicating. He pulled back, a devilish smirk on his face. “You’re so wet, baby. All for me.” His fingers curled inside you, hitting that sweet spot that made you gasp. His other hand was busy teasing your nipple, pinching and twisting it until you were writhing in his arms. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart. I'm so proud of you...”

With that, he picked up the pace, his fingers pumping in and out of you with a fervor that left you breathless. You moaned more, the pleasure growing in intensity, “Ahh..mm..ohh..” Vox grinned and moved his fingers faster, his thumb rubbing circles around your clit. The combination of him working on your pussy and playing with your breast had you crying out, your body trembling in his arms. “You’re so close, I can feel it. Go ahead and cum for me, baby girl.” It’s not too long until you cum, covering his hand in your juices as your body tensed up.

Vox growled, his eyes glowing with satisfaction as he felt you release all over his hand. His fingers slowed, gently stroking you through your orgasm. He slowly removed his hand and marveled at the wetness on it, licking it up until his hand was clean. “You taste so good, darlin’. So good..” His hand moved up, gently brushing a stray hair from your face. “You alright, Y/N?” You were there, still somewhat dazed from your orgasm. But there was one thought going through your head. “I...I...more...I need more...please...” Vox chuckled, “Needy little girl, aren’t you? Don’t worry, baby. I’m far from done with ya.” With that, he gently laid you down on the couch, his screen and his body hovering over you. “You ready for more, Y/N?” “Yes...please...I need it...” Vox’s eyes glowed with excitement. “Good girl, ” he purred. You see him take his jacket and pants off, revealing his hard and erect cock. You just sat there, amazed by its size. Could an overlord have a cock that big? Vox smiled, saying, “You like what you see?” He gave his cock a few strokes, pre-cum leaking from the tip. “It’s all for you, baby girl.”

With that, he lined himself up with your entrance, his hands holding your thighs gently. He slowly pushed himself inside you, groaning at the tightness that enveloped him. “Fuuck...that’s it, baby... take it in deep..” Once he was fully inside you, he started to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate. You gasp and moan in pleasure as he thrusts into you, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting the pleasure consume you. Vox felt a wave of pleasure hit him as he felt your arms go around him. “That’s it, baby. Let it all out.” His thrusts picked up in pace, each one hitting that sweet spot inside you. His hand moved down, his fingers slowly rubbing your clit. “You’re so tight, darlin’. So fucking good..” With that, he picked up the pace, his cock pumping in and out of you. “Ahh..ohh..V..Vox...i..it feels so good...” you moaned, causing Vox to grin. “That’s what I like to hear, baby.” He continued his assault on your pussy, pounding into you so much that you were seeing stars. You weren’t sure how many times you came, but you didn’t care. You just wanted Vox to keep fucking you.

“Gahh, fuck yeah...gotta get even deeper...” He then stopped his thrusts and pulled out of you, flipped you onto your belly, and grabbed your hips. “Hold on tight, Y/N. It’s gonna be a wild ride.” He lined himself up with your entrance once more, pushing inside you with a single thrust. He quickly sped up his thrusts, making you a moaning mess. “Ahh..oohh..yes...yes..I...I love it... I love your cock...!” Vox grinned a prideful smile, proud of the fact he was causing you to lose yourself just from his dick. “You’re such a dirty girl, baby. I fucking love it.” It’s not too long til he could feel his climax coming, and he felt your walls flutter, meaning yours was coming too. “Cum for me again, Y/N. Let it out.” “Ahh..mm..V..Vox..! Please cum in me..! Please..! Fill me up with your cum! I can’t take it anymore..!” Vox growled, your pleas of ecstasy driving him further over the edge. “You ready, baby girl? Ready for me to fill you up? I’ll do it, but only on one condition. You belong to me from now on. You like that?” “I..I’ll do it! I’ll only belong to you, Vox! Please, fuck me!” Vox smiled, thrusting even more. “Alright, darlin’. Here it comes...!” With one final, powerful thrust, Vox released inside you, his cock pulsing as he filled you with his cum. “That’s it, baby..Take it...take it all..” You cum at the same time he does, feeling his cum filling up your womb. You cry out in pure pleasure, your body riddled with pleasure. It was the best orgasm you’ve ever had. Vox kept thrusting, but he started to slow down, letting you both ride your orgasms for as long as possible.

Once everything was done, he pulled out of you and marveled at the cum-covered mess your pussy had become. He smiled, and pulled you into his arms, holding you close. “You did amazing, baby.” He brushed a strand of hair away and he looked at you, a bit concerned since you were so quiet, “You okay, Y/N? Do you need anything?” You turned to him and he was amazed at how beautiful you looked. Your eyes looked so full of joy and bliss, and your smile was so warm and genuine. You could almost cry if you saw it for yourself. He felt his heart flutter when he saw that. Yeah, he made the right choice.

You hug him and rest your head on his chest. “I love you so much...”

Time stood still for a moment for Vox when he heard those words. He hoped that he would hear those words come out of your lips towards him, and seeing and hearing it now, it filled his heart with joy. He slowly wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. He let out a quiet chuckle, his screen pressing against the top of your head. “Well you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you? I feel exactly the same, baby girl.” He gently waves his hand and summons a wisp of smoke around your neck and along his hand, it soon turning into a collar with a chain leash, him gently gripping onto the chain. You now belonged to him, permanently. And he wasn’t gonna let just anyone touch you like he just did.

He held you close, his hand gently stroking your back in a soothing rhythm. “Just rest now, Y/N. Vox has got you.” You let yourself drift off to sleep in his arms, forgetting about the world and any worries you had. Vox cleaned you up and carried you to his bed, laying you on it then entering it himself. He pulls you close, letting the sound of your breathing and the beating of your heart lull him to sleep.

~~~♡♡♡~~~

#hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin #hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #vox x y/n #vox x reader #vivziepop #fanfiction

270 notes · View notes

volklana · 7 months ago

Text

Cursed Eyes Don't Lie

Request: Could you do something where in season 4 when they're escorting the children, that they encounter a woman on the travels they adopt into their band essentially to help with the children but she despises Sihtric because when he was one of Kjartans men he plundered her village and she never forgot him? Does that make sense and then somehow through all that angst make them fall in love?

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma associated with SA, I do not go into detail at all, it's just alluded to that it happened. If that isn't for you, please don't read, protect your peace and you can catch me next time xx

For some parts I have replaced things that Eadith did in the show with reader.

It was Finan who had spotted the little flicker of a fire in the distance that he insisted on following, he and Sihtric leading the way until they were brought to the ruins of an old Roman building at the edge of the woods.

They shared an unsure look, with Uhtred who looked to Eadith for reassurance.

“The children are tired, we need rest,” she urged and so he nodded at his companions to proceed.

They crept forward, up along the ridge of the broken ruins to try and decipher how many men were camped inside but to their shock and amusement they could only make out the silhouette of one woman, warming herself beside the fire, completely unaware that she was being watched.

“Just a woman?” Uhtred tilted his head in shock.

“I should go first,” Eadith offered, “If a band of men wander in demanding refuge you may startle her.”

Uhtred nodded in agreement and so Eadith made her way inside the ruins, ensuring to drag her feet a little to announce her arrival.

You swung around dagger in hand ready to attack and paused when she raised her hands in surrender, but not putting down your dagger.

“Please, I am with a group traveling with children, all I ask is that we may share your fire for the night. No harm will come upon you and we will leave at first light in the morning.”

You looked behind her to the small band of warriors and children clinging to their sides.

“I have no provisions or food, but there is a stream, you may wish to bath and collect water from,” you finally relented, placing your dagger back into its sheath around your waist and allowing them to pile in around the heat of the fire, while one of them announced they would try to hunt some food.

Introductions were made and you shared a little of your water with the children, while still remaining a little cautious of the men in the group. Eadith came to sit by your side and she bumped you gently with her arm.

“I know why you are wary. Us women have no choice but to be wary but I assure you these are some of the best men I have ever known, you have no reason to be worried. I promise you.”

“If you had seen the things I had seen lady you would be wary too,” was your only reply but you were reassured enough to loosen your guard.

Eventually as dusk was beginning to turn into the night the last of the men, the Dane Sihtric returned with two rabbits much to the cheer of his friends who immediately set about preparing them to cook while Finan, you had learned was his name, brought more wood to keep the fire going.

You went down to the stream to collect more water to give to the little Aelfwynn who seemed to be struggling the most with the conditions of the road, so much so you had parted with your furs for the night in an attempt to keep her warmer.

Uhtred’s man Sihtric, the Dane was washing his hands and face in the river and so you moved more upstream to collect the water.

You eyed him suspiciously, as he bathed but when he turned to face you, two mismatched eyes set a fire burning in your stomach and before you had time to think your actions through, you flung the animal hide you were using to store water with at him and it connected to his chest with a thud, as you fumbled for your dagger.

Your chest rose and fell in fury as you seethed, and he put his arms up in surrender, face a mixture of terror and confusion.

“You were one of Kjartan’s men, do not deny it!” you spat.

“Lady please,” he begged but made no move to stop you pressing the dagger to his neck.

“You sacked my village. You murdered my family.”

Sihtric’s eyes swam with emotion, his Adam's apple bobbing when he swallowed.

“Please, it was a different life, I had no choice.”

“No I had no choice,” you spat “No choice but to endure while your men took what they wanted from my village and from…me,” you refused to look away at the last part, the shame was on them and not on you and you refused to allow it to shame you now.

“And when I think back on that day I see your eyes. Eyes of the devil looking down on me, leaving me there amongst the burning embers of my life. I swore I would never forget those eyes. I have cursed those eyes and I would have my revenge one day.”

There were tears in the Danes' eyes and you did not care.

“Then have your revenge, I won’t try to stop you. But know this,” he pleaded “I never willingly served Kjartan a day in my life, all I did was to survive his cruelty. He killed my mother, he would have killed me too had I not proven myself useful as a warrior but I never ever relished in destruction. And I never forced myself upon any woman, not then, and not now and I have served Lord Uhtred faithfully, especially since he killed my father.”

You cocked your eyebrow in curiosity and Sihtric sighed.

“I am Kjartan’s bastard,” he spat “And the world is a better place for him not being in it.”

You hated yourself for loosening your hold on the dagger ever so slightly, but Sihtric made no move to escape, “I am sorry for what you have endured at the hands of the men I was with, and for my part in it. I will receive punishment in whatever way you see fit.”

You pushed the knife further into his skin again, watching a trickle of blood run down his neck to his collarbone and disappearing under his vest, tears pooling in your own eyes.

“I’ve waited for this day for years. Night after night remembering those eyes, imagining what I would do when I had you in my grasp, it is what kept me going all these years, and now I’m here and I can’t do it. I can’t do it,” you cried, dropping your dagger at your feet.

You stood facing each other for an eternity, chests rising and falling, looking into each other’s eyes, before Sihtric knelt down before you, “On Thor’s hammer I offer you my protection for as long as you will allow it. Travel with us, the road is no place for a woman on her own and I will never allow any wrong to fall upon you at the hands of another man again. This I swear until you release me.”

You examined those two mismatched eyes once again, ones that had many moons ago offered you his hand and pulled you from the table you were hiding under, pressing an apple into your hand as he gathered the few possessions he had plundered, and watching you with sad eyes before he mounted his horse.

“Coward,” you had roared after him, in the midst of your burning village, but now it was you who was the coward.

You considered him carefully, and could see that he was sincere.

“I accept the offer of your protection. But make one unwanted move on me and I will have your balls for earrings,” you promised.

He couldn’t help but smile as he rose, and you ordered him to pick up the discarded hide of water to bring back to the camp, which he hastily fumbled for.

“And the curse?” he shouted trying to catch up to you.

“Remains until I see fit to lift it,” was all you offered, not giving him the chance to fall in step with you.

“What happened to your neck?” Finan asked as you walked back together.

“Ah, must have nicked in on a branch,” Sihtric dismissed but Finan warily eyed the dagger on your waist, and you cocked an eyebrow in challenge but thankfully he let it go.

You tossed and turned but could not find sleep. Every time you closed your eyes all you could see were Sihtric’s eyes. Those mismatched eyes you had grown so accustomed to hating. Sympathetic eyes, pulling you from your hiding place of fear and smoothing you down but making no attempt to force himself on you. And accepting eyes as you held a dagger to his throat, willing to allow you to hurt him, this made you feel more conflicted than you had in years.

Sihtric in turn could not sleep. He had earned two black eyes and a swollen lip once Tekil had informed Kjartan that he had refused to take his turn with you, but he could never admit that to you now. You had said you had cursed his eyes and maybe you had, Sihtric was no fool, he had seen the damage a curse could cause, maybe his curse was to have found the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on and never be granted the opportunity to earn her love. To see her but never to touch or hold.

The next morning Finan woke everyone up and the scramble to collect everything began.

Sihtric was by your side in an instant as the camp made to leave.

“She comes with us,” he announced, causing Finan and Uhtred to step toward him in bewilderment, “She comes with us. She comes with me.” was all he offered in terms of explanation and began walking, to which you simply followed behind.

Life on the road the next few days were a blaze of walking as far as possible in the light and hunkering down for the night wherever Uhtred deemed safe. Finan and Sihtric always took the nightwatch whilst you and Eadith tended to the children. Little Athelstan had taken a real shine to you, always opting to sleep by your side or holding your hand in the dark, but by day he only ever wanted to be by Finan’s side.

“Horses!” Uhtred warned and you all took to running. Sihtric grasped your hand in his.

“Keep running,” he urged, pulling you alongside him and you grasped his hand for dear life running as fast as you could. Only halting when you nearly fell into the lake with bodies of the dead from the sickness, Sihtric gripping you to stop you falling in.

Deciding against Sihtric’s suggestion to swim through, you had no option but to surrender to Eardwulf and his men’s approach, Sihtric ushered you behind him, one hand in front of you in an attempt to protect you.

“Protect the children with your lives,” Uhtred commanded as Eardwulf’s men dismounted their horses and you reached for your dagger, while Sihtric gave his own dagger to Athelstan.

As Edith revealed the truth of her brother’s treachery and he fled away into exile, Sihtric once again took your hand in his, squeezing it gently three times, for reassurance.

At Wollerton, you found horses and provisions for the next part of your journey, Eadith and Osferth were to remain with Aelfwynn, to try keep her alive, and Young Uhtred and Sihtric were to find Aethelflaed, you lingered awkwardly for a moment having received no orders.

“You will ride with me?” Sihtric announced but it was more like a question, and you nodded, before mounting his horse and he climbed on behind you. You were both awkward with the proximity, you wanted to put more space between you two but Sihtric’s strong arms encased you and in the end you had to relent to the fact that you could not escape his touch.

“Woah,” Sihtric jolted forward to catch you, it had been hours worth of riding and you hadn’t felt yourself falling asleep, but Sihtric caught you before you fell from the horse.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled feeling embarrassed.

“It’s okay I’ve got you,” he shushed “We will rest soon I promise, but lay your head back on me, that way you can close your eyes and I’ll keep a stronger hold on you,” and even though you didn’t want to, exhaustion overruled and you obeyed as his left arm locked around your waist.

He tried to ignore the hammering of his heart and for a long time he wouldn’t allow himself to look at your peaceful face, but when he did his breath caught in his throat and he had to force himself to look ahead again.

When you finally caught up to Aethelflaed and Sihtric relayed the news, you were almost dead on your feet.

Sihtric agreed to take Aethelflaed to where Osferth and Eadith were caring for Aelfwynn, and you delayed a moment.

“Leave me here,” you urged, “I will slow you down.”

“No,” Sihtric shook his head furiously, “I will not leave without you.”

“Sihtric,” you sighed.

“No y/n I am sworn to you and I will not abandon you. Where you go, I go.”

You knew him just well enough to know you were not going to win this battle so reluctantly you climbed back onto his horse.

When you finally reached Aegelesburgh to the news that Uhtred was to be named the Lord of Mercia, Sihtric went to go drinking with Finan and Osferth, but you went to catch some sleep. Promising you would meet him in the alehouse afterwards.

You arrived to a very solemn, very quiet group of soldiers, lamenting the fact that Uhtred had given up his chance to rule Mercia. Stiorra moved up a space to allow you to sit beside Sihtric and he bumped you reassuringly with his shoulder despite his sour mood. Finan returned with two jugs of ale and Eadith and you all settled into a heavy night of drinking. So much so that when the time came to depart for bed Osferth was sick outside and you were unsteady on your feet, so much so that you had linked arms with Finan while he sang some merry tune. Sihtric could not deny the fiery jealousy that was burning in his stomach as he watched you walk ahead.

He watched you throw your head back in laughter as the Irish man spun you around, “I’m going to slip,” you giggled and the sound was devastating to Sihtric, he would never make you laugh like that, and you would never allow yourself to be this carefree around him. Forever, you would be guarded and wary of him. That was the real curse.

He huffed and stormed past you both, refusing a glance at you both and you scoffed “What’s up his arse?”

“Can’t you tell?” Finan laughed “He’s soft on you and in all fairness I’ve been hogging you all night.”

It was like you were sober in that instant. Sihtric was developing feelings for you and you had sworn to hate him forever.

You couldn’t sleep, and you certainly couldn’t stay, so you made up your mind to leave at first light. You would gather enough provisions to make it on your own. Your heart was sad because you had grown accustomed to the company, to Sihtric in particular. His reassuring touches, his gentleness and the way his eyes seemed to always be on your. Those eyes. “Curse those eyes,” you spat but you couldn’t quite bring yourself to mean it.

At first light you began to pack your things together and startled when a gentle knock on your door pulled your focus away from the task.

You opened it fully surprised to see Sihtric standing sheepishly outside.

“We’ve been tasked with escorting the Lady Aelswith safely on her way to Bedwyn- Are you going somewhere?” he asked eyes frantically inspecting the items on your bed.

“I’m leaving, yes.” you answered defiantly.

“Leaving?” he rushed “But where will you go? Why are you leaving? I am sworn to you. We should stay together, no?”

“You are sworn to Lord Uhtred, you go wherever he commands,” you quipped.

“No. No!” he huffed stepping foot into your room before you come stop him, “You can’t leave, where will you go? Back on the road? I won’t allow it!”

“You won’t allow it?” you scoffed “And what on earth makes you think you have any say in what I do or where I go?”

“I have sworn myself to you, on Thor, until you release me, or have you forgotten? Your safety is everything to me. All I have done is try to keep you safe. Can you not see that?”

“If your concern is your oath I release you, there you are free from your bond and I am free to take leave of you,” you turned on your heel and began hastily pushing things into your travel bag.

“You would dismiss me so easily?” Sihtric sounded crestfallen, his mind was scrambling a thousand miles a minute trying to comprehend what was happening and trying to find something, anything to say to make you stay.

“Sihtric, I’m not entirely sure what you think we are to each other. Did you think us friends? Lovers? I never agreed to either of those.”

“So what if I did love you, y/n is that so terrible? I have tried in so many ways to show you that I am not the man you thought I was. But you are intent on hating me forever aren’t you? It’s hopeless, I will always be the heathen who plundered your village to you. Nothing more.”

Your heart was pounding in your ears because it was quite the opposite, you could not hate him.

“It is hopeless,” you repeated, “And you should not be prevailed upon to look at someone you love, who does not love you back every day.”

“Could you,” he looked down at his feet, unable to meet your eyes, “Could you not love me, some day?”

You wanted to burst into tears right there and then, throw yourself into his arms and tell him you loved him already, Sihtric could see your resolve melting and it was enough to spur him on, he took your hand in his and squeezed it three times. You had long suspected he did it to reassure himself more than you and this moment confirmed it.

“Sihtric, how could we ever be?” you cried “Look at how we began. I can’t look into your eyes and promise you that I will never not harbour resentment for what I went through at the hands of your men.”

“And I can never make that up to you, even though I would give my life to do it,” he replied. You sniffled and allowed him to pull you to him as he embraced you tightly.

“Let me go Sihtric,” you mumbled against his skin, “Let me go as I have released you,” he nodded slowly and when you broke apart you noticed there were tears in his eyes.

“I lift my curse,” you nodded, tears falling from your own eyes“Go forward and know that I wish you no more ill.”

Sihtric looked into your eyes for what felt like hours, before finally with a firm nod he departed your room and you briefly considered running after him before making your mind up resolutely to let him go, for his own good.

And so you departed Aegelesburgh before Uhtred’s band had even gathered their belongings to leave.

After you had been walking for hours, you came across a band of Danes, careful to jump off the road and remain among the trees but it was unmistakable, a hoard of Danes were making their way along the road you had just traveled and it did not sit right in your stomach.

“How much further to Winchester?” one of them complained and your stomach dropped.

Uhtred and Sihtric were going to walk right into this trap and without even thinking your actions through you took to running back in the direction you came from, you were hoping against hope you could intercede them and warn them before the Danes got to them. Your heart racing in your mouth with each step, if something happened to Sihtric and you never got to tell him how you felt you would never forgive yourself.

You had lost track of the Danes along the road, but you no longer heard them and that worried you immensely. Still you ran as fast as your legs would allow you. Until you came to the remains of what would have been a camp for the night and you carefully made your way among the trees, you had to cover your mouth with your own hand to stop yourself screaming at the sight in front of you, hanging upside down from a tree was Uhtred, Finan, Osferth, Father Pyrlig and Sihtric. You had to fight the urge to be sick, but they were guarded by two Danes you did not have a hope of defeating alone, so you needed to act quickly, it didn’t help that you could visibly see Sihtric was not doing well and he was in trouble.

Everyone startled at the bloodcurdling scream they heard from within the forest, and when it was followed by another more pained, one of the Danes went to inspect.

You made quick work of him with your dagger, stabbing furiously until you were sure he was dead and then you stole his ax, and silently crept back up to the camp, avoiding the second Dane who ran into the woods calling his friends name.

“Y/n, quickly, go to Sihtric!” Uhtred urged in surprise and you made quick work of the binds tying his hands together, trying your best not to panic as his arms hung limp beside his head, and then you swung wildly at the rope tying his feet, grunting under the strain as Finan shouted words of encouragement, as he fell you grapsed his face in your hands “You’re alright, you’re alright,” you assured but Uhtred shouted for you to release Pyrlig and so you sprung into action while Sihtric attempted to regain composure.

As you were working on Pyrlig, the second Dane returned and you watched Sihtric grapple with him and when you finally released Pyrlig the two of them took him down, Sihtric stabbing wildly until he Dane finally fell.

You made quick work of Osferth, Finan and finally Uhtred.

When all were finally free you ran to Sihtric graping him into your embrace.

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry,” you kept repeating while he placed kisses to your head and face, anywhere his lips could land. “It’s alright, I’m alright,” he repeated in between kisses.

But you did not have time to revel in the moment as Uhtred had commanded you all to run, the Danes had Stiorra and you were going to make the journey on foot to Winchester, and so you found yourself hand clasped in Sihtric’s once more running through fields in an attempt to keep up.

Not stopping once until you reached Winchester, but Sihtric never once let go of your hand.

When you volunteered yourself to go in disguise to check on the captives, Sihtric wanted to be sick. If the Danes in Winchester were preparing for a siege you were going to be stuck inside but you were certain on your path.

And you surprised even yourself with the gumption you had found, as the guards cleared you to enter the city.

But it did not take long before you found yourself in Haeston’s hands as you had tried to enter the castle using Eardwulf’s execution as a distraction. The moment he grasped you, you knew you were in trouble.

“What do you want with me?” you cried as he dragged you across the courtyard but you already knew what he wanted, as he pulled you up to the loft of a building and you prayed that you would have no need to use your dagger on him, because you would in a heartbeat.

Thirty days passed under Haeston's control with the city under siege. He tried each night to lay with you for the first two weeks but each night you rebuked him with warnings of gouging out his eyes whilst he slept. He brought you morsels of whatever food he could find and as you weakened, he relished in your lack of strength. He was the worse kind of predator, the one who strikes only when the prey is too weak to defend itself, but you would not allow yourself to become his prey.

But when he frantically came up to grab you, telling you the battle had come, that he did not want to face it, your heart hammered excitedly at the prospect of seeing Sihtric again.

He pulled you along until you finally found your strength lashing out at him until he relented and released you.

“Stay here and you will die,” he spat and you stood fast.

“Die then ungrateful bitch,” he shot before turning his back and fleeing.

You ended up in the midst of the fighting, with only your dagger for protection, but in the chaos you fell and were being trampled on, worsened when both sides shouted for a shield wall. It was Finan who had heard your groans of pain, breaking the shield wall in order to pick you up and carry you to safety.

As soon as the negotiations began Sihtric was by your side, mismatched eyes searching every part of your body for injury.

“My love,” he cried “Oh my love,”

“Sihtric,” you mumbled, allowing him to pull you to him, you hand flew up to trace the scar on his face and you ran your thumb across his lips “Your eyes that I have cursed a thousand times were the only thing that kept me going. Each night I would dream about your eyes and I would find the strength to endure. I was wrong to tell you I could not love you Sihtric, you are the only man I could ever love,” you cried and he shushed you, gently bringing his lips down to meet yours and you whimpered at his gentleness.

That night you stayed with Sihtric. He tended to your wounds with delicate hands and shaking fingers. He was afraid that you were going to disappear at any moment, but he stilled all actions when he felt you begin to cry in his arms.

“My love? Did I hurt you?” he almost shrieked and you shook your head vehemently.

“I was so wrong about you, Sihtric. I feel I’ve been cruel. I shouldn’t have tried to dismiss your feelings back in Aegelesburgh.”

“None of that matters,” Sihtric shushed you, cupping your face in his rough, tattooed hands “What matters is you know how I feel about you, and you know that I am yours for as long as you want me.”

“I want you forever,” you cried, placing your own hands over his, and turning your face to press your lips to the palm of his right hand.

He was gentle laying you down on the bed, pressing sweet wet kisses to every inch of skin that became exposed to him as he undressed you, and you eagerly pulled his clothes until they too were a discarded mess on the floor.

Sihtric’s groans were delicious in your ear and the gentle pace he set, had you gasping for air as he teased you.

“I’ve changed my mind,” you panted and Sihtric’s mismatched eyes, flashed to yours in worry “I reinstate my curse on your eyes,”

“Oh yeah?” Sihtric laughed rolling his hips with a flick that had you gasping.

“I curse them to only love me for all your life,” you grinned, trailing your hands along the sides of his torso.

“In that case I am happy to be cursed love,” he grinned, picking up speed and not relenting until you came apart in his hands, finally reaching his own high as he bit down on your shoulder.

“I will love you from here to Valhalla," he panted "And cursed eyes don't lie,” he chuckled before collapsing down beside you.

Tagging: @canyonmoon-2 @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @whitedarkmoonflower @shamrockqueen @thenameswinter99 @foxyanon @acdassenza @thatawkwardlittlefangirl

#sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtricsmut #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric fic #the last kingdom fic #volklana writes

222 notes · View notes