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kthsbelle · 2 years

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STRAWBERRY HAIRCLIP 🌸🍓

★ summary: female! reader finds a tattooed stranger asleep on her bed in the middle of her squishmellows at a house party.

★ pairing: college!eren jaeger x soft maths major fem!reader ♡

★ warnings + tags: 18+, college au, tattooed eren, softcore cute reader , eren w a snakebite piercing , thick thigh reader , poetry from eren, smut .

★ wordcount: 3,395

a/n: this is my first fic here ! i read a lot of eren au’s today and this idea suddenly came to mind ! i decided to share . please enjoy !

“ not again…” an exasperated sigh fell heavily from your lips like it weighed a thousand pounds . you were standing in front of your house , a small pile of books you had borrowed from the library squeezed against your chest as you looked at the fluorescent lights peaking out of the windows . the bass from inside your house reverberated throughout the neighborhood , and even from the outside , you could distinguish the faint sound of a pop song .

another college party .

your brother was a heavy partier , but you strongly disliked when he did those at home without even warning you first . you had a throbbing headache from having your nose in books all day , practicing for mid-terms . the last thing you needed were drunk college kids slurring around and music blaring in your ears .

rest , you needed rest .

options - doja cat ft JID

you pushed the front door to your house open and instantly wished you hadn’t . as if it was waiting for a chance to hit you , the sound of music rushed to you and assaulted your ears , making you wince back in surprise . “ im gonna kill this asshole,” you grumbled under your breath as you started pushing past the squeezing bodies that danced in the living room .

you stopped in the kitchen which seemed relatively empty , except for a flury of red hair moving between the fridge doors .

“ sasha ?” you called out over the music . the red-headed girl in question jumped in surprise , her head yanking up to smash directly against the frame of the fridge . the force of the action caused it to shake a little . she yelped out in pain . “ are you okay?” you quickly questioned with your hand slapped over your mouth to hold in a laugh .

“ im good , im good !” she quickly said as she stepped away from the fridge with a bottle of tostios’ spinach dip . “ you’re not here for the party , are you ?” she said , eyeing your outfit with an amused look on her face .

you obviously looked misplaced and you knew it . with your printed , pastel yellow high-waist pleated skirt , yellow oversized ‘ LEMON’ sweatshirt and knee high socks , you rather looked like you belonged browsing an empty aisle in a CD store or at barnes and nobles . – and honestly , you wish you were .

your style has always been the epitome of soft girl core , with small stickers adorning your cheeks and orange blush at the tip of your nose . your requirement was to look like a cute fairy nymph at all times .

you’ve been like this for as long as you could remember and before the trend gave it this name . your brother found it endearing , even though he’d mask it by poking fun at you . you didn’t care though , it gave you comfort .

“ where’s my idiot brother ?” you questioned . watching her prying open the bag of chips and scooping up some of the dip . a lot of it .

“ oh – he’s gone somewhere upstairs with katie “ she paused to swallow, “ you don’t wanna see him now…” she shook her head and you quickly caught on to her suggestion .

“ ew!” you grimaced . the last thing you wanted to think about was your brother…doing it .even though he was two years older and you were relatively close , one thing you didn’t want to know about was...this.

you shuddered softly and stepped forward to make way for the drunk couple that stumbled in with their mouth glued to each other in an intense make-out session . your mouth lifted in an annoyed expression while sasha shielded her face away like she had looked directly into the sun for too long , ‘ gross ! connie i dont wanna see this !’

you laughed softly at these two before deciding that your hunt for your brother was over . you just really wanted to sleep – as much as you could despite the music. “goodnight , sash ! and…connie ?” the last part came out like a question as the man seemed to be too preoccupied by the blonde he was kissing . you smiled at the waving sasha before making your way out again.

you inhaled again before diving back in the crowd , looking to reach the stairs that lead to your room . you got a few stares which you completely ignored , not wanting anything to do with drunk college boys . your eyes stayed focused ahead of you , giving the clear message that you weren’t here to have fun . you balanced the books against your chest as you went up the stairs and into the hallway . the sound of the music was considerably lower , but still bothersome . you walked past a few people making out in the hallway , your eyes focused on your white bedroom door at the end of the hall , holding your breath at the mere idea of finally finding solace – peace in your sanctuary . you lifted your knee to allow one arm to reach for the handle while the books took support against the other arm steadily . you twisted the doorknob and wasted no time to walk in your room , but what you saw nearly made you scream for help .

i was never there – the weeknd

in the middle of all your squishmellows , sprawled out , and in a seemingly deep sleep , laid a complete stranger . he wore black cargo pants , a white shirt and a black bomber . he slept comfortably on his back with a tattooed arm draped over his eyes , glossy lips slightly parted letting air through as his chest rose and fell softly . the shiny metal on his lip caught your attention , and you identified it as a snakebite piercing. the position had allowed his shirt to ride up his hips , the V lines showing a sinful path that curved and dipped down inside his Calvin boxers which were peaking out of his pants . the fairy lights above your headboard shone soft golden orbs on him , painting an ironic picture as he laid against your avocado-patterned comforter . you felt your throat closing , strangely aroused by the scene .

you couldn’t stop the book avalanche even if you wanted to . the book on top slipped out of your grip , dragging down all the other ones with it and they subsequently hit the ground with a loud thud . ‘

“shh ! shh !” you tried hushing the book as if they were alive as you knelt on the floor to pick them up . the sleeper immediately froze at the sound before he quickly sat up , his messy bun almost coming undone at the abruptness of his reaction. he stared at you through confused , tired eyes before realization hit him . “ oh shit !” he croaked out , voice deep from his tiredness as he sank on the floor to help you pick them up .

“ w-who are you ?” you questioned while looking down , feeling the tip of your ears go red . why are you even getting shy ? he’s the one in your room .

“ eren. “ the stranger you know as eren held out a small pile of books towards you . you didn’t look at him directly . “you ?”

you mumbled out your name.

his green eyes peeked at one of books he held and a thick eyebrow scrunched in confusion , “ differential …equations…?” the confusion was evident in his tone as his head tilted to decipher the picture on the book cover . a few strands of hair fell above his eyes .

“ applied mathematics major ,” you answered after having swallowed the ball of anxiety that had settled in your throat .

his emerald eyes widened in surprise before a small smirk lifted the corner of his lips , “ for real ? damn . “ you were used to this reaction . most people thought you studied theater or fashion because you always looked like you could be in a winx club live action .

“you ?” you asked back . quickly taking the books from him and dropping them on your lap , the impact causing your thick thighs to jiggle softly . eren did not seem to miss this action , his eyes lasting a minute longer on the sight before looking up at you . you subconsciously thought of the typical college fuckboy majors; business , or music...

“ literature.” it was your turn to show surprise , and the boy chuckled softly at your expression . you couldn’t help but notice how white his teeth were .

“ah…” was your answer . you wanted to slap yourself for losing your social skills for a minute , but you were just too tired to handle so many emotions and words at the same time .the boy only chuckled in response , his hand brushing back the bangs that only managed to fall over his eyes again . “you don’t seem convinced .”

miss you – oliver tree , robin schulz

“i’m not,” you answered honestly , a small smile of your own dancing on your lips , “ you look like you study…”

“ business ? music ?” he took the words right out of your mouth as he stood up , extending his hand down towards you . you were suddenly taken aback by how tall he was and how he seemed to command all the attention in the room . you blushed when you realized how close you were to his thigh and quickly grabbed onto his hand to stand up , except he pulled you up harder than you expected and you crashed against his chest . the smug look on his face told you he did it on purpose . your chin rested against his chest , slowly assessing the height difference between you two .

for a moment , his eyes seemed to have darkened into something more primal before they softened again , a smirk curling his lips upwards , “ and you didn’t strike me as a maths major either . “

you rolled your eyes , feeling slightly offended . you turned around and stepped out of his embrace towards your desk , suddenly feeling chilly. you knew it was your insecurities hitting at you – people always had a hard time believing you were smart and it pissed you off . however , you had long moved passed this – or so you thought . how did eren manage to set you off so easily ? it wasn’t even that bad .

he felt the cold air coming from you and raised his hand in defense , “ hey , hey . not saying there's anything wrong with that , you know ? i wouldn’t be able to half of what they do anyway, “ a small smile drew on your lips at his attempt to reprimand . “ plus,” he added as you arranged your books on your desk in no particular order to distract you from your wild pulse , “ its ‘cause you’re really cute . in a…forest pixie kind of way…”

love lost – mac miller , the temper trap

a small giggle broke from you , “makes sense . thanks. “ you answered , bending forward a bit to work your sneakers out of your feet while holding onto the table . the cold air hit the cheeks of your ass which was unknowingly protruding out of your skirt and you heard a sharp breath being drawn behind you .

when you turned around , eren almost looked like he wanted to pounce on you . you cleared your throat gently , feeling blood rush to your lower stomach like molten lava .

“ what do you do in literature anyway ? analyze Shakespeare’s attachment issues ?” this ripped a laugh out of eren . his laugh was even more attractive than his smile - it chimed pleasantly in your ear , sounding boyish but deep .

“ good point . but we did study him a lot .”

you arched an eyebrow and smirked , “ what’s your favorite quote by him , then ?” you asked challengingly , not really expecting him to answer . you just wanted to mock how boys challenged you whenever you expressed interest in something unconventional . eren shrugged before lifting his eyes towards the ceiling in a small moment of contemplation.

“ love is not love which alters when it’s alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove. it is an ever-fixed mark, that looks on tempests, and is never shaken.” he finished the last part , teal eyes boring into your soul .” my favorite author is bell hooks , though.” he added with a small smile .

to say that you were taken aback was an understatement . the tattooed stranger that broke into your room just spoke the most meaningful words in the softest , yet firm tone you’ve heard. you wanted him to recite poems to you over and over.

the two of you stayed silent before you looked towards your bed and back at him . “ uhm…what are you doing in my room , anyway ?” you decided to address the elephant in the room which you should’ve obviously done a while ago .

“ oh , uh i was looking for a bed to crash and sober up and your room smelled good ... like strawberries .” he explained and looked at your bed and the array of squishmellows decorating it with a look that seemed endearing . “ not gonna lie , it’s the most comfortable sleep i’ve ever had .” he said and you smiled with pride knowing that you had invested a lot of money into making yourself the softest , most comfortable bed ever .

“ but , i can leave if you want...” his voiced trailed off as if hoping you would say no - which you did . “ i mean you can stay a while more...”

“ hell yeah ! “ he cheered and let himself fall back on the bed which allowed him to bounce back a few times before he grabbed one of your blue axolotl squishmallows and pressed it against his face . you laughed softly , oddly proud that someone loved your bed so much . your friends always loved staying in your room when they came over, but it’s the first time a stranger - who seemed so different from you expressed such content from being here .

you plopped down on the bed and brought your knees to your chest , looking up down at your hands while you chipped away at your pastel nail polish . eren pulled the plush down slowly , green eyes peeking over at you. “what ?” you asked feeling your face heat up uncontrollably. “ you’re cute. “ he simply said with a smirk before looking up at the ceiling .

you bit your lip from stopping your smile from spreading too much . “you’re flattering me .” you replied as you looked down at your thighs which seemed to have been more exposed than you thought . the elastic at the hem of your thigh-highs sank slightly into your skin , squishing it out in a way that seemed more lewd than you intended . you quickly reached to pull your skirt down but ring-covered fingers pressed against your thigh , the cold metals sending chills down your spine as he blocked your action.

“no.” he said in a semi-commanding tone . “ they look great.” you could see the intensity in his eyes as he looked at you and moved his hand away after letting it slide down a bit leaving a burning path from where he touched you .

your heart was beating inside your ears at this point and you needed a distraction . “where are your friends anyway... or girlfriend ?” you bit your lip .

white tee - summer walker

this was a bait to see if he had any girl in his life , which , why wouldn’t he ?

“they’re all drunk and annoying right now...and don’t have one” he answered the last part with a smirk on his lip as he looked at you teasingly , long and thick eyelashes that curled at the corner giving him a gracious aura . “ why ? wanted to know if position was empty? “ he asked in a teasing tone .

“ you’re such an ass!” you whined , pushing him with soft laugh to mask your embarrassment at the fact that you were, in fact , checking. eren chuckled and reached towards your face , pointing at one of the stickers adorning your eyes . you understood that he wanted it , so you pulled a little star and placed it against his hand .eren looked at it like it was the first time he’s even seen a sticker.

a small silence settled between you two as you played with your fingers .

“ what about you ?” he suddenly asked after his silent contemplation .

“ nope !”

“damn...how ?” he asked , genuinely confused and you shrugged in response , “ they’re not business majors “ you replied teasingly which made him release another amused laugh . the vibration shocks throughout your body .

eren looked at you silently , bangs brushing agains his long lashes which clearly annoyed him . he tried swatting them away but it never worked . you giggled softly and motioned for him to come closer to you , “ come here,” you told him as you removed one of the hairclips that held your ponytail .

eren obediently scooted closer to you , resting his cheek against your thigh while his hand palmed at either sides of them . “ is that okay ?” he asked . to have the hottest boy you’ve seen resting on your lap ?

YES , YES , YES , YES !!!

“ sure “ you answered and he simply closed his eyes with a content smirk on his lips . you were ready to combust as you reached down , brushing the soft strands of his dark hair away from his face and slicked it back into his messy bun before sliding the hairclip over it and securing it . you smiled as you looked at him . what a contrast it was - this edgy , tattooed man with a strawberry hair clip in his hair . he didn’t seem to care either .

“i’d eat you out real good right now .” the words he let out almost made you choke on air. he opened his eyes looking back at you and he was dead serious.

the man let out a laugh at your expression before closing his eyes again , his lustful expression suddenly gone like it was never here . “ don’t worry , i won’t.”

you probably looked at him like he grew two heads . you didn’t say anything back , your stomach in knots. he was so hot , it hurt . would you really pass up an opportunity like this ? when the last time you even got laid ? this time by the hottest man you’ve ever laid eyes on .

“what if i want you to...?” you attempted back , voice coming out small but hopeful .

suddenly the hands that were resting so softly against your thighs tightened their grip and eren smirked at he lifted his head . “good girl” he praised

you gasped softly as he pushed your back to the bed , your cunt throbbing uncontrollably . he parted your legs and knelt between them , his erection pressing against your thigh . he felt so hard . you bit down your lip , feeling your wetness spill out . “ wanted to eat that pussy the second i saw you on that floor...” he admitted , his voice low and guttural . his fingers pulled your panties down and hooked your legs over his broad shoulders . his fingers separated your puffy folds , exposing your pussy completely to the cold air . you bit down your lip , letting out a needy whine causing your tiny hole to clench around nothing and eren nearly felt his mouth water . “shit...” he breathed before sticking his tongue out , letting fingers collect the saliva on them before rubbing them on your bare folds . you didn’t need any lubrification , but he just wanted his spit on you . he was convinced he’d never seen a pussy like this . he was about to dip his head down and eat you like a caveman when you stopped him mid-action.

“eren ?” you asked , blushing beet red . he was confused but paused to listen , hoping you didn’t want him to stop already . “ c-can you tell me another poem ?” the man couldn’t help the smile on his face. “ you wanna be talked to while getting your pretty pussy eaten ?” he mused before nodding, “ of course, princess. “

he dipped down between your thighs , his hot tongue sliding down your folds .

“by my soul,”

his hands squeezed your thighs around his head even more , like he wanted be suffocated . you moaned out at the delicious contact of his tongue gliding down to your hole.

“ i can neither eat”

his lips closed around your clit , his piercing brushing against it making your body jolt on the bed. “eren !”

“drink”

his lips sucked on one of your labia folds before releasing it. “fuck - eren !”

“nor sleep;”

he lifted his head and ran the flat of his tongue against your whole cunt before moving his head sideways to place kisses on your inner thighs , his warm breath fanning soothingly over your skin .

“nor– “ a finger dipped in your hole , slowly thrusting in and out. you screamed his name again, body shaking on the bed, “,what’s still worse , ” he placed another kiss against your pussy ,

“love any woman in the world but her.”

his head dipped down again, and this time, he wouldn’t stop eating you out. you felt pleasure ripple through your body in delicious waves as your eyes closed and you let yourself go . the last thing you saw between your thighs was his dark glossy hair and the strawberry hairclip that held his bangs together .

#belle’s writings 🎧! ♡ ✶ . ࣪ ׅ #eren jaeger #eren jaeger smut #eren yaeger #eren jaeger x reader #aot smut #attack on titan smut #levi ackerman #aot imagine #attack on titan imagine #eren jaeger imagine #college eren jaeger #eren x reader

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forteafy · 8 months

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You Think, You Know | CL16 & CS55

Summary: Some bridges are due to burn, whilst others are destined to mend. Charles wants to lead you into a traditional happily-ever-after, whilst Carlos is still adamant that he can always treat you better. Part 3 of ‘A House, A Home.’

Word Count: 11.3k

Warnings: angst, shouting, a lot of swearing, mentions of cheating and divorce. SMUT. Non-protected sex, oral (M&F receiving,) squirting, degradation, aftercare always.

Note: Thank you all so, SO much for being so patient with me. I really wanted this to be something special and I hope you all enjoy it. Please don't get mad at me because this one is emotional. A massive thank you to my biggest cheerleaders, @oconso, @formulaforza, @a-distantdreamer & @silverstonesainz - I love you all so much.

PART 1: A House, A Home | PART 2: Where Do We Go? | PART 3: 'You Think, You Know'

You loved your sleep.

There was never too much that could wake you from your slumber. Currently, with the combined sensations of crisp sheets tucked across your frame, soft sunlight drawing through the transparent curtains of the bedroom and snug, strapping arms encircling your waist, it would have to be some form of miracle to awaken you.

The form of this came in the body pressed tightly into your back; smoothly, a pair of lips are drawn to your cheekbone, satin kisses being dropped against your skin. Was it possible to awaken to such a soothing interaction? Your face is drawn to the feeling, turning in his interlocked arms, the side of your face nuzzling into the cushion as your eyes meet the deep, dark pools of his.

“Good morning.” Carlos whispers, joyful at your rise from shuteye. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been lying there himself, simply basking in the pleasure of holding the girl of his dreams against his firm body. The man was constantly on a lifeline; each time you interacted with him, he’s certain it would be his last, that one day, you’ll be violently ripped from his arms and his heart.

Suspended in thought, the Spainard is drawn back to reality with the glowing touch of your palm on his skin. Immediately, one of his arms draws away from your waist, resting his own larger hand atop of yours. You look alluring like this; sleep still decorates your eyes, hair tangled from the deep sleep, yet perfect in every sense of the word.

“Morning.” You respond, allowing yourself to set your gaze upon his face for a little longer. It’s a sin, settling in your stomach at how that same face had lifted from between your leg’s mere hours ago, the remanence of your arousal ever-present atop his stubble. You were certain he had a mouth crafted by the angels, the way his lips had toyed with your most sensitive parts and the way they currently pulled into an enticing smile in the present.

Two bodies, two souls were entwined in that bed; you weren’t too sure how long you lay there alongside him, reveling in one another’s morning appearances. All you know in that moment is Carlos is overtaking your mind, sprinting through every vein in your body. Every unanswered question from the previous night rendered numb as the man leant forward in your touch, his lips gaining space on your own.

There’s a sudden, sharp buzz from the other room, causing you both to retract from one another, bodies deep in the king-size mattress. A chuckle leaves his own mouth, running a heavy hand across his face, heart still pounding from the sudden jump of sound in the silent apartment. Something in your heart told you that buzz was for you. Whining from the sudden loss of warmth, you remove yourself from the bundle of blankets and body heat, bare feet padding into his living room, aware of your mobile phone, resting atop of the counter.

The device gave a heavy buzz once more before you had the realization to pick it up, the battery barely there. You absent-mindedly call out to the man in the bedroom, asking if he had a phone charger you could borrow for a little while. There's clutter from the other room, clearly trying to find a space for your own phone. Whilst that incurred, your eyes flickered across the darkening screen, skin turning cold upon reading the text notifications.

02:51: Charles Leclerc

I’m in love with you.

02:53: Charles Leclerc

I’m so sorry she was there – I had no idea. She’s gone now, can I come and collect you? Where are you?

03:25: Charles Leclerc

Please let me know you’re safe as soon as you can. Can I come and see you in the morning, please?

08:47: Charles Leclerc

Good morning, my love. How are you feeling today?

Guilt washed through your stomach, not for the interaction you had shared with Carlos; Charles had done substantially worse to you for the past twelve months. No, you knew what it felt like to have no response from somebody you cared for, terrified for their well-being. Even when Charles hadn’t cared for you, you had still nursed him, waiting up for his return in the early hours of the morning.

With the remainder of your phone battery, fingers fly over the keyboard. Did you want your husband to come and collect you, specifically from his teammates home? He was aware of your building friendship with the Spainard, even if it wasn’t entirely platonic. There wasn’t a huge choice; you especially didn’t want to demand or pry a lift off Carlos, especially after he had come to collect you so late the previous night.

08:58: You

Good morning, I’m at Carlos’ place. I’d really appreciate a lift back to the house, if that’s okay.

The message barely had time to send before it’s marked as ‘read’. Immediately, the blue speech bubble pops to the lower corner of your phone, signaling a response was being formed.

09:00: Charles Leclerc

You don’t need to even ask. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes was not enough time to conceal everything which had happened in the previous hours. Feet now cold, legs now littered in goosebumps, you’d scrambled back into his bedroom, the man now on his own feet, those damn gray jogging bottoms hanging on his hips, a visible outline ever-present. It took your entire soul to remain strong, knowing how tempting this man could become in a matter of moments.

“Charles is on the way.” You state, suspecting that it would cease all his movements, and allow yourself to get ready for your husband’s arrival. Instead, he’d stepped closer to your frame, leaning his toned torso towards you, locking you in his muscled arms, hiding his face in the skin he’d licked and bitten across the previous night. His mumbles are incoherent, littering across your neck in broken Spanish. He’s saying something. Something you can’t understand but is undeniably a plea for you to stay in his arms.

Carlos stays pretty much attached to you the entire time you’re preparing for your departure; his body is pressed against yours, littering kisses to the crown of your head whilst you brush your teeth. His scent is so dominating on the hoodie he insists you borrow, slipping that atop of your frame whilst pulling on the bottoms you had wiggled out of the previous evening. The man’s heart explodes upon seeing you bundled into his clothing, a possessive streak striking through his body and soul.

When your bag is packed, face washed and phone charging, now on the counter of his kitchen, you spend the last few minutes waiting for your husband’s adamant arrival by bundling into Carlos’ side on his plush sofa. It feels entirely natural by this point; his arms encircle your waist, letting you lie against his sternum, soothing yourself to his naturally steady heartbeat. A snippet of your heart desires to take this sole moment and capture it for a lifetime. Safe. Warm. Happy.

The moment is wafted away from you both with the sudden rapping of knuckles on the front door. Whining, your eyes trail on the Spaniard, focused as he presses a final, fleeting kiss to your temple, pulls himself up from the couch and paces towards the hallway. Your own ears strain to hear the latch lift of the front door, Charles praises for looking after you the previous evening falling over his lips, two pairs of footsteps drawing into the front room.

Your husband, despite his usual god-like appearance, looked terrible. His hair pushed to the front, clearly in need of a wash and brush. His skin was rubbed raw, face bloodshot; clearly, he hadn’t got a single moment of sleep the previous night, still dressed in the clothes he’d traveled home in the previous night. Despite the heavy lids of his eyes, they still light up when falling onto you.

“Good morning.” He gives you a smile, only you. You can feel Carlos’ disappointment, even if you can’t see his eyesight at that moment. A pocket-sized smile from your own lips is offered in return, pulling yourself up in that moment, reaching for your bag which remained on the floor, slipping into your soft sneakers.

“Are you ready?” You’d asked softly. Charles’ mouth opened, hesitating before he spoke. He was thinking clearly.

“I just need to speak to Carlos quickly. Something…private.” He tries to explain his standings, tries to make you feel less awkward as he reaches for the car keys resting in his hoodie pocket. “Are you okay to wait in the car?” He asks softly. He feels in no power to demand your movements, yet he requires one private word with his teammate.

Your eyes don’t bother to meet Charles, instead immediately flying to meet the dark ones of your unofficial lover. What on god’s earth was your husband about to ask, and why did he want to do it out of your earshot? The look that you give the man says a thousand words, asking if he needs you to stay, hold your ground against Charles. The warm eyes of him give everything you need, silently promising he could handle this man. An entire conversation through looks alone, a skill the two of you had developed so naturally.

Silently, you take the keys from Charles’ outstretched hand, skin flinching when being pressed against the cool metal. You don’t so much as glance in his direction when you’re walking to the counter, picking up your phone and stuffing it into the pouch of your borrowed hoodie. When turning on your heel, you pace back to Carlos, pressing a surprising kiss to his right cheek, murmuring a ‘Thank You,’ just for his hospitality, of course. You had done all the thanking for the number of orgasms you were granted the previous night.

The walk towards your husband’s car, the SUV rather than his identifiable Pista, your mind clouded, clotted with an array of questions. Why did Charles need to speak to Carlos alone? Was he aware of the relationship the two had been sharing for an undefinable amount of time? Who on earth was the blonde woman giving you a death stare as she walked up the pathway to the complex, red lips practically hissing at your appearance, storming past you within half a second?

When you turn back to take in her appearance from behind, a sense of sickness settles into your stomach. You’d seen the back of that blonde head before; not in person, but rather on a phone screen. Your phone screen, held between white knuckles as you’d watched the man you had begun to fall for wrap his arms around another woman's lips meshed in a private nightclub, unaware of the multiple cameras capturing their searing moment.

That was the same woman, identical in her mannerisms. You felt your tummy curdle into pain, into your vague realization that the only reason Carlos had offered you a place in his home, and subsequently his bed that evening, was because he was trying to fill a void until she returned to the scene. Your stomach wanted nothing more than to empty its remaining content in sheer shock. Instead, you breathe deeply, unlocking the door to the car, climbing into the passenger seat and closing your eyes, relaxing into the plush leather of the upholstery.

You’re not sure how long your husband takes, eyes growing heavy as you await his return. It’s only realized when the driver’s door clicks open, rolling in your seat to watch as Charles climbs into his own, a frown resting at the bottom of his face. However, it’s immediately vanquished when his eyes latch onto your own, grinning at your presence, so close to him. A warm hand reaches out, brushing over the back of your head, sheerly enjoying the comfort you radiated. He'd been lost without you for the past twelve hours.

Your eyes begin to feel heavy again, though you’re determined to get through the car ride alert, even if the soft scent of his cologne and the gentle lulling tunes from the morning radio are drawing you back to your previous state. Instead, you think of that woman. No, not the mistress you had grown numb to; the blonde woman, the one pressed against Carlos’ chest and lips mere hours after you had been. The glint in your husband’s eye is telling as you go through your endless thoughts, he knows something.

“The blonde lady going into Carlos’ apartment.” Your voice is completely out of pocket, echoing through the front of the SUV. “Who was she?” There’s no beating around with the question you had asked; there’s no trying to sugar coat what you needed to know. Charles knows it, too. He knows he can’t hide the truth from you, you’re too smart for lies and manipulation, a year married with a mistress had taught him that.

Instead, he emits a deep sigh from his lips, knuckles tightening on the steering wheel as he focuses on the road. “Natasha.” The name falls from his lips, he can’t meet your gaze, not when speaking about another woman to his wife. “She used to work for Ferrari’s PR but left just under a year ago. Carlos and her used to-“

“Date?” You’d cut him off without realizing, eyes widening when he’d shaken his head.

“No, not date.” He responds. “They just had…a thing. Something.” He finished his train of thought, still not mentally ready to turn to you. In a comforting way, you were glad he hadn’t; Charles was unable to see the tears pooling at your lower lash line, the desire to rip off the hoodie now suffocating your body. You learnt in your heart that moment, you were apparently nothing special to Carlos. No, he had a thing. Something, with any woman who passed his way was as a wandering fancy.

The tears decorating your eyes and desire to relax into the leather seat eventually overpowers your emotionally drained body, pulling you back into a slumber.

You loved the sound of music.

A faint tune, one you were certain you’d never heard before lured through your ears, drawing you back to consciousness. You couldn’t remember getting home, let alone getting out of the car and tucking yourself into the comfort of your own bed. Groaning, you’d sat yourself up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and stretching the twinge in your back simultaneously.

The music wasn’t coming from your room; the sound was beautiful, you just needed to locate its source. Your feet twinge when they touch the floor, cool floorboards easing the temperature of your socks. Opening the ajar door to your bedroom, the music grows louder, sound clearly emitting from downstairs, your feet carry you to the staircase with no hesitation. However, when reaching the top of the staircase, eyebrows crease together in confusion, taking in your once-ragged appearance in the crystal mirror.

Your hair had been braided, albeit not elegantly, but at least out of your face, something you did almost religiously before sleeping. Your attire had changed, too, once you were dressed in Carlos’ sage hoodie. Now, your body was engulfed by Charles’ charcoal jumper, sleeves too long but an entire comfort for your drained mind. Is this what it felt like, to be nurtured and cared for by your husband? The pit of your stomach felt airy; this had been everything you desired for so long. And yet, now you had experienced somebody else, despite the heartbreak, your mind was utterly torn.

Music grows louder, your mind is suddenly focused back on its original target. With no hesitation now, you began to walk down the flight of stairs, noting your bag and phone resting by the front door. Even with as many notifications as you’d missed in your time asleep, priorities overtook, making your way towards the lounge, eyes transfixed on the figure by the French windows.

Charles Leclerc sat, comfortably and quietly, gentle fingers dancing over the keys of his piano. The soft lights of the room illuminated the figure, a tune you had never heard was fluttering around the open space.

Of course, you had heard him play the instrument multiple times; during his time spent at the house rather than on the track, he remained transfixed, creating new songs, finding some way to pour every emotion into some kind of melody. You’d lost track of the times you’d come downstairs to get a drink, put the washing into the machine and had instead pushed your body into the doorframe, eyes fixed upon your husband as he created the most beautiful sounds.

The last time you’d done that, his mistress had been present, leaving over the piano as Charles played her an elegant tune. When she had gone to lean over him, her own fingers wanting to press down against the keys, he’d rested a firm hand on her arm, insisting that she sit on the sofa and listen, instead. The sweet moments of silently viewing your husband had turned sour; you’d silently vowed that day you would never enter the room when he was playing again.

You’d broken that promise mere seconds ago, eyes transfixed upon your husband. You can feel the tension beneath his fingers, as if he’s trying to take the sheer thoughts of everything that had been embedded into his mind in the past twenty-four hours and mesh them into some kind of audible release. Underneath the layers of music, your footsteps can’t be heard as you hesitantly walk towards the end of the living space. His tune reaches a climax, but before the piano can take any more notes, you cough lightly, Charles’ hands ceasing in mid-air. Arching his body weight, he sees your frame standing next to his piano, eyes still sleepy from awakening mere moments ago. The breath catches in the back of his throat; did you always look so perfect in his soft jumpers?

“I’m sorry.” He eventually offers, taking in your sweet, soft appearance. “Did I wake you?”

“No, no.” The reply tumbles from your lips before you even realize. “It was…beautiful, actually. Is it a new piece?” You ask, entranced by the music which had been flowing freely.

“I’m not sure yet.” He can’t help but smile at the end of his sentence. “I just sort of started playing and this is what came of it.” The explanation is valid; like many creatives, sometimes a free flow form was the simplest way to go. His next movement is almost a shock to your system. “Why don’t you come and help me?” The offer is completed when he shuffles up on the piano stool, patting on hand on the available gap. There’s hesitation in your movement, before his hand trails upwards, leaning to clasp one of your own, guiding you towards the stool.

There’s an overpowering smell of his cologne, a scent you were slowly drawing yourself towards. The body heat from his frame radiates into your own. Shyly, you reach out, pressing down on one of the piano keys, a tone spouting from the instrument. Charles can’t help but smile upon your interaction, eyes questioning as you analyze the instrument.

“Do you know how to play?” He asks gingerly, watching as you shake your head in response. His actions exchange, resting one of his warm palms over your own. The next moments are filled with your husband guiding your hands over the piano, teaching you the tune to old nursery rhymes. When you reach the end of the piece, he cheers in delight at the achievement.

“Play me something now.” You ask carefully, head becoming heavy, heavy enough to rest on your husband’s shoulder. When you feel his body tense, you immediately sit back up, convinced you’ve overstepped a line. That thought is soon relinquished when Charles’ hand flies out, wrapping around the back of your head and pulling you back down to his shoulder, your breath hot on his neck, it’s enough for him, hesitant to overstep the boundaries you were adamant upon currently.

His fingers move back, continuing the song he had been conducting earlier. The piece had started out slowly, almost sad-like, before building, building towards a romantic counterpart. In his mind, it was the perfect song to punctuate the relationship he maintained with his wife. They both sat there, barely any moment as the music was the only sound present in their house.

When the song finishes, neither of you move, relishing in the soft touch you’re both sharing. Charles’ own head falls atop of your own, letting his cheek rest against your hair. There’s no form of time between you both, simply enjoying being alive, alive with one another. It’s interrupted when you feel Charles’ take an exaggerated breath, removing his keys from the piano. One of his hands rests upon his side, the other slides between the minute gap between you both, wrapping a toned arm around your waist. The movement causes you to lift yourself from his firm shoulder, catching those beautiful eyes from your glance.

“I’m traveling to Monaco tomorrow.” He says it so casually, as if it’s as normal as entering or leaving the building. You can feel his heart race in anticipation of what he was due to say, his body temperature raising dramatically, radiating through his hoodie. You offer him a warming smile. You really didn’t want him to leave, not when you were growing so unnaturally fond of his presence.

“Oh really, what for?” Is the eventual reply. In this moment, you simply can’t hold his eye contact, he’s staring into your soul, it’s as if he can sense every thought which is currently trekking through your mind; does he know how much of a hold he has on you, even if your marriage was entirely staged, at least in his eyes.

“I’m off to see my mother” He clarifies. “It’s been a while and I just want to check in.” It’s a lie. You can tell from the way his body language changes; his hands are suddenly clenching tighter, his grip on your waist firm as if he’s terrified, you’ll run away. He can’t admit it, he’s not strong enough. If you step away, he will fall back to the way he was the previous night; eyes bloodshot, unable to sleep unless he knows you’re safe.

“Give her my best.” The response is blunt, short. You’re on entirely different wavelengths, different planets. He never told you of his reasoning for things; a golden rule you had learnt at the beginning of this era. Just…you’d never question him; you would simply co-exist. What he says next makes your blood run cold.

“Why don’t you come with me? I’d really appreciate it.” Why on earth would your estranged husband want you to come on his travels, presumably when the entire point was to spend the entirety of it wrapped in the arms of another woman. Yet, a feeling in your stomach settled. Did you actually want to spend hours in this empty house alone? Now that Carlos was no longer a welcome distraction, anything would be better than wallowing in your silence.

“I will.” You eventually respond. “On one condition.”

“Anything.” His eyes are wide, so willing. He’d scooted tighter towards you, as if he could hold together this entire conversation, stopping the whole world from crumbling around you. You must be the one to take a deep breath this time. You had to remain firm with your choices, with what you needed to know.

“What was in the white envelope that your mistress gave you yesterday?”

You loved the glow of candlelight.

Having never entered Charles’ study, his fingers interlocked with your own as he guided you through the heavy door, you didn’t realize how many candles he had resting around his office. They laid upon his windowsill, on his desk, he even had a mulberry-scented candle resting next to his racing simulator.

There was only one candle which was lit, he had obviously forgotten to extinguish it whilst you were deep in your slumber. Despite the fact you hadn’t ever been given access to this room, you’d have to make a mental note in order to check for any fire hazards the next time you were in the building alone.

The envelope resting upon the desk stuck out like a sore thumb; his computer, stationary, it was all a cool gray tone whereas the envelope stuck out in a bright white glow.

“I need you to know before you look at this, it’s a lot worse than it comes across.” Even in the candlelight, his face had turned pale, barely able to keep his fear from dancing across his emotions. You need to remain strong. You need to see what was left in the envelope.

Staying firm, your grasp reaches out towards the desk, taking the card into your own hands. “I want to see it.” You clarified, letting your finger trace under the flap of the envelope.

You don’t let your husband’s words overpower you, distract you in any way. Instead, your hand reaches into the envelope and grasps around a stack of…something. It feels like multiple pieces of paper pressed together, though one side remains glossy, as if printed onto a special sheet. Hesitantly, your hand pulls from the envelope, eyes immediately widening upon seeing the content in question.

It's photographs. Multiple photographs of Charles and his mistress. Some of them are casual, taken from her phone, smiling selfies and dinner dates. Others are…compromising, verging on pornographic. You can feel the lump in your throat tightening, tears are forming on your lower lash line, but you must keep strong. You cannot show any weakness when you ask to see this.

“That’s her, isn’t it?” Your voice betrays you, weakening as your words continue. “Your…girlfriend.” You don’t want to use the other word; it’s clear from these photographs it was more than sex, it was more than just an escapade.

“She’s- she’s not anymore.” Charles pauses, his eyes don’t focus on the photographs, only on you. His wife, who he has hurt so badly and now must see the pain littered across her face. “She hasn’t been since your mother passed away.”

Your heart stops at the mention of your mother, a sharp spike of longing for the woman suddenly danced through your chest. Then, you were angry. How dare he pity you, you didn’t want it, not from him. But…you still wanted him. He’d clouded your emotions, nothing was black-and-white with your husband, just a cacophony of colors.

“That was your reason for dumping her. Sympathy?” You don’t care how harsh your voice comes across, instead just aggravated you were growing to care about his reasoning. Life had been simpler weeks ago, when you simply stayed at home, minding your own business whilst he got on with his. By the look on Charles’ face, he wasn’t expecting the hostility, either.

“No! I dumped her because it was wrong, because I have a loving wife who I would give anything for.” The room goes silent, giving you time to process the words that had come from his lips. You had been so certain for so long that he didn’t care about you; that everything he did was for his own gain and pleasure. Yet…he had given up his mistress for you. He’d given up something that made him happy because you were not.

Stressing, you run a hand through your hair, placing the photographs back into the envelope, speaking to your husband as you place the card back onto his desk. You feel sick. These photographs exist and it was a perfect way to destroy the two of you, it was perfect ammunition to a metaphorical pistol. “So, what does she want you to do with these photographs?”

“Nothing.” Charles leans over your own body, reaching for a second stack of papers resting upon the desk, one you had considered would simply be notes from Scuderia Ferrari. Warm seeps through your body at his close contact, one hand almost trailing against your back as he grasps to the stack of crisp sheets, barely touched. “She’s threatened to publish them if I don’t sign…this.”

You took the stack of ivory papers into your palms. It was sprawled with a size twelve font, you were uncertain of where to begin until two words in bold took your attention, printed formally across the top of the page.

“Divorce Papers.” Your voice is barely a whisper, heart dropping to your stomach.

“That’s the other reason I’m going to Monaco.” He’s explaining his own status now, eyes glassy with the fear of you walking straight out of the office. He wouldn’t blame you, of course. He couldn’t blame you for anything anymore. Charles reaches out to your grasp, wiggling the paper from your fingers and placing them back against the desk. “I’m filing for a lawsuit against her, a restraining order for manipulation and stalking.”

A scoff falls from your lips; the mere contrast of the events from a few weeks ago compared to now. He truly intended to file a lawsuit against a woman who he’d happily let warm his bed whilst you went to bed each night with nothing but regret and bloodshot eyes. “Do you…do you want a divorce?” You can feel your voice cracking. “I mean, if she’s sent you these, you must have mentioned wanting one-”

“I did.” Charles doesn’t miss a beat. “I mentioned how I didn’t want a divorce because despite everything…I do care for you.” The room goes silent, not even the flickering of the candle or the soft wind from the French windows can pierce the tone of the room.

A huff escapes your lips, arms resting by your side as you formulate a response; “You had a really weird way of showing it.” Your response is blunt, it clearly warrants the sad look on your husband’s face.

“I know. That’s why I’m going to make it right. Please come to Monaco with me. She won’t be there; you don’t have to come to the lawyer with me. But…I need to be able to come back to my wife.” His hand reaches out, cradling your own in this moment. Gently, he lifts your palm to his cheek, resting it upon his stubble and letting his lips trace a kiss across the soft skin.

He truly does know how to make your heart flutter, despite everything.

“Okay.” You eventually respond, focused on his gaze when his eyes turn wide in anticipation.

“Yeah?” His heart is picking up in happiness, reaching to hold you in his own grasp, but instead falling short when you raise a finger, ceasing his movements towards your body.

“But…you need to give me tonight, alone. To process that.” Gently, you take a step forward, leaning gently towards him. You can’t leave him, not before you gently press a kiss to his cheek, turning on your heel, your figure illuminated in the corridor by the soft candlelight. “Goodnight, Charles.”

“Goodnight, beautiful.”

You loved the feeling of warm water.

There is only a slender picking of moments in your life where you have felt truly relaxed; sitting by the lake in the rolling fields your family had owned for generations, lounging in the bed of the Madrid-Based apartment your friends had hired for a holiday in the early spring morning.

You had never thought one of those relaxing moments would be as your mother-in-law massaged her hands through your locks, lathering an expensive shampoo into the roots of your hair. She was gentle; no tangles fell through her fingers as her rhythm stayed perfectly relaxing, hitting all the spots which would send a flood of relief through your scalp.

You’d arrived in Monaco early that morning, immediately being transported to the luxurious hotel your husband had booked you into. Most of the trips he’d book you wouldn’t attend, and when you did would be ignored by him altogether. This time, he’d remained present, willing. Your hands had entwined the moment you had left the privacy of the jet, nestling into the back of the car, eyes heavy from the early rise.

Not much is remembered after you’d arrived outside the opulent building; bags were removed and transported to your room by the bellhop, both you and your husband were given hotel cards, an older lady at the desk explaining the functions dotted around the high-end establishment. All you could remember was the door to the room opening, your tired body making a beeline towards the emperor bed, nuzzling into the soft furnishings with sleep overtaking you in a matter of moments.

Charles hadn’t been able to help the tug on his heartstrings as he’d seen you tumble into the mattress. You’d been so thoughtful; dropping everything back at your house and accompanying him to Monaco, promising to be there for him as he promised to fix the wounds from his previous mistakes. He’d give anything to crawl into the bed alongside you, wrap his frame around your own and fall back into his own slumber, one he had despised the night before simply because he wasn’t able to hold you in his arms. He was learning to respect your wishes; after all, he had a lot of repairing to do-so. Even after recent conversations with his Ferrari counterpart, he could never bring himself to hate you.

His phone buzzes from his back pocket and upon inspection he sees the reminder, he’s due with his lawyer in less than forty-five minutes, but he doesn’t want to leave you, not alone. A thought sparks into his head, fingers flying through his contacts and dropping a message to one, asking if they could take you over to his mother’s salon later in the afternoon. By the time he’s returned from changing in the en-suite and brushing a comb through his hair, the responses from both Joris and his mother had lit up his screen, confirming his plans for later in the afternoon.

Your husband had allowed himself one more look at you, so peaceful wrapped up in the comfort of the bed. Silently, he leans over your frame, running a gentle hand across the back of your head, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your forehead, murmuring his sweet words to your sleeping form.

When you’d awoken, there was a message clarifying that Joris would be taking you to his mother’s salon a little later and he would come to collect you once he was finished with his lawyer. That’s how you had ended up walking into her salon earlier that afternoon, her delighted smile present after seeing her daughter-in-law.

Pascale wasn’t stupid, that much was clear. She was aware of the strain in her middle son’s marriage, just not to the extent that he had been toying with a mistress for the better part of a year. However, she had grown to adore you; your mannerisms, laughter and the fact that you clearly held a candle for Charles, despite the dwindling flame of the marriage. If she had a daughter, she’d want her to be just like you.

“Are you and Charles up to anything this evening?” Her voice is gentle, motioning for you to stand up from the basin chair and walk towards the mirrors, resting yourself in one of the seats. Your reflection bores back into you, focused as Pascale adjusts your head slightly, brushing the tendrils of hair through her comb.

“I’m not sure.” You respond. “I know he has some business this morning.” It’s an understatement. When Joris had collected you from the hotel, he’d tried to give you what information he could – Charles had arrived at his Lawyer’s office, ready to file the case against his mistress. He wasn’t too sure how long it was going to take, though he had told Joris to be on hand for anything you needed when he couldn’t.

“You make him happy; you know?” Pascale mentions, tilting your head to angle your hair correctly. “I know he hasn’t always been…the greatest.” You’re not sure if she’s aware of everything, but her tone seems to stand where you need it to do so, “but you make…such an impact in his life.”

Not much else is said whilst the woman continues to trim your hair, adjusting your face as she does so. It was nice, not to be cooped up into a hotel room for the entirety of the day, nor to be sitting in Charles’ driver room whilst he walked around, finger entwined with his mistress. You’re so engrossed in Pascale drying your hair, setting the locks into soft rollers that you don’t realize when the door chimes open, another figure entering the quiet salon. The woman’s eyes brighten, and you hear her cooing before your own face turns, taking in the figure of your husband in the doorway.

Charles looks breath-taking. He’d clearly showered and changed since you had last seen him bundled in his travel gear that morning. Your deduction would be correct; the man had hastily returned to the hotel to jump into the shower, changing into a power blue shirt and white trousers. His hair, free of styling products curled in an unruly way, one that made his whole face structure elevate.

In his hands, he held both a soft white dress over his arm, one you had packed in your case fleetingly the evening before; it had been steamed and washed, the fabric clear and petticoats of the skirt floating gently. In his other hand, a vibrant bouquet of roses. His smile never faded, walking over to his mother and pressing a kiss to each of his mother’s cheeks. Once his attention turns towards you, his eyes only brighten.

“Hello, beautiful.” You can’t tell whether he’s playing up the affection in front of his mother, or whether it’s genuine. However, when one hand comes to rest on your cheek, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. He’s being respectful; making sure not to cross a boundary.

“Hello, handsome.” The response falls from your lips without realizing, the grin on your husband's face only rising. Fuck. Did you mean to say that? Regardless, you had done, and by the look on his face he not only didn’t expect it but had instantly grown to love it. Charles had completely forgone the flowers in his grasp, only remembering them after your eyes had darted down towards his palms.

“Oh-“ His mind finally catches up with the present situation, raising his hand to present you with the flowers. They’re colors are soft, delicate, as if etched by crayon. You can’t help but smile at the gesture, even if it was entirely a false pretense in front of his mother. You can’t see her face, but you know she’s smiling, seeing her son present to his wife in such a sweet manner. Now, your gaze isn’t fixed against the flowers in your grasp, but the dress from your suitcase.

“Something tells me that won’t fit you, Charles.” You tease the garment laying over his forearm, only to cause a smile to appear on his lips again.

“I want to take you out for the afternoon. If that’s okay with you.” His voice is low now, hoping to avoid any prying of the conversation from his mother, though her attention was now turned to locating the hair dryer, still needing to complete your own treatment. “Would that be…okay?” He’s nervous. Fearful that after everything, you could now reject him and feel no remorse.

You’re not a cruel person, it has never been in your nature. Instead, you match his own smile, nodding as you take the garment from his grasp, Charles’ eyes widening in confirmation.

“Trust you to pick out my favorite dress, too.” You mumbled.

You loved the sound of the ocean.

You loved everything about the sea, truly. The reflections from the moonlight caused shards to reflect over Charles’ boat; the new yacht had barely had time to stretch the waters, though it seemed to float as if it had been nurtured its entire existence.

The afternoon of a late lunch had expanded into expensive, late-night wine on the boat as your husband had guided you into deeper waters. He knew what he was doing, after all; the waters of Monaco were a comfort to him, a lifetime had stretched out from jumping into the ocean as a child to yacht parties during the Grand Prix.

You’d seemed entirely at home, and it made his heart warm. Charles wasn’t a stupid man; he saw how you kept yourself small, your setup at the house barely spanning over two rooms. He’d wanted nothing more than to break the walls you had put up for oh-so-long and entwine your lives together.

Then he would reprimand himself, remind himself he was the sole reason those walls existed.

Conversation had spanned naturally into the events of the day; you thanked him for thinking of you, he’d responded with a mention of you deserving that form of treatment every single day. Your mind can’t take the anticipation; when your lips lift from the glass of wine, you can’t help but ask what his lawyer had recommended about his mistress. Your husband’s grin had fallen a little, running a hand through his dark curls.

“It’s a difficult one.” He explains. “There’s enough there for a case, considering we haven’t had contact in a while. But…” He doesn’t need to finish his sentence; you do for him.

“The photographs are counted as evidence.” You finish, and he can only nod. He’s created such a mess, something he could never forgive himself for doing so. A web of lies and mistreatment surrounded you both; he so wanted to break each thread and simply cradle you, be in a bubble for the rest of eternity.

He’s expecting you to stay silent, then. Maybe that’s where the evening should have ended, with silence upon the realization that this case will not be easily solved. Instead, you place the glass of wine down on the ledge of the stairs, easing his own glass from his grasp. Charles is confused, even more so when you walk back towards him, wrapping your arms to close around his neck.

“What are you doing?” He whispers. His hands raise hesitantly, as if touching you would break you into a million pieces. His grasp only falls to your waist when you press closer towards the man, resting your gaze on his own eyes. He’s hurt you, broken you to such an extent, and yet you can’t help but draw closer to his touch, to his eyes.

“Being your wife.” You respond, before pressing your lips to his own. This is the first time, the first time in so long that you had been the one to initiate a kiss. Naturally, Charles’ hands wrap tighter around your waist, pulling you into his chest, deepening your touch, your kiss. This. This is the moment he wishes to bottle forever, to live in the comfort of his wife’s touch, no outside means, no other commitments being hung over his head.

You’re not sure how long you both stand there, wrapped in one another, hands fleeting over each other, desperate to find some touch, some form of skin. It isn’t until your fingers reach to unbutton the top of his powder-blue shirt, that his own come to rest atop of yours. He knows he’s made a mistake when he sees the look you shoot him, immediately assuming the worst.

“No, no.” He promises, both hands flying from where they had grasped yours, cradling each side of your face. It feels…warm. It feels so similar to the way Carlos had cradled your head once, when you were both on a boat, much like this. You think of those dark eyes, the whispers drawn into your ear as he had sharply thrusted into you that evening. Then, you think of the blonde appearing outside his apartment mere hours after you had been tangled in his arms.

“I want to.” Charles’ words draw you from your endless train of thoughts. “Sweetheart, I want to more than anything, but I need you to know how much it means-“

You don’t let him finish; instead, you press your mouths back together, forcefully. There are whispers from your own lips, pleading that he take you, that you want nothing more than to feel your bodies atop of one another.

And who is he to deny his wife?

You’re not sure when he scoops you up into his arms, guides you inside of the boat and to the soft bed that had been freshly made mere hours ago, but he never lets your lips leave one another for less than a moment.

He’s everywhere; he’s pressing into you in the most delicious way, he’s drawing your body of the most intense sounds, and then you’re coming, harder than you ever thought was possible, it hits you in the most delicious way.

Your fingernails pressed crescents into his skin as he continued to push into you with that perfect rhythm. Feeling your hot breath dance against the shell of his neck, the sweet whimpers of your overstimulated orgasm falling from your lips. Charles feels you clench around him, dragging you into him deeper, and it's all over.

His head immediately falls into the joint of your neck and shoulder, his pants getting heavier, thrusts rougher as he chases his own release. Teeth escape from his lips, biting down atop of the red marks he'd left earlier in a passion; the gasp you let-out, the roll of your hips against his own pushes him over the edge, a moan falling out from his own lips, hands flying to grip at your forearms pinned above him. You can feel every inch of him buried inside of you, warmth spilling into you.

Heavy hips press into yours, your thighs still pressed around his waist when he lifts his head from the warmth of your skin, pressing one final deep kiss to your lips, a profanity of words escaping from his mouth.

He kisses you again. And again. He keeps doing it whilst slowly rocking his hips, still jittering from his own orgasm. Senses come through, those eyes you had been entranced in so many times fixing to your own, drinking you in, looking so beautiful underneath his own frame.

"You still want somebody else?" The teasing is natural, almost, inflicting you to roll your eyes and playfully push his arm. God, your laugh is the most adoring sound in the world to him, it had been so long since he'd heard it, even then, it had never been due to his own actions until recently. The adorned look in his eye is soon replace with confusion when he feels you wiggle underneath him, soft blankets rubbing against your back.

"Are you going somewhere?" He questions, one hand coming up to trace against your jawline. You want to lean into his touch, it's something you'd been attracted to recently, though the mess between your legs and sweat trailing down your skin seemed to tell you something different.

"I need to clean up." You whine, pressing your body into the plush mattress. "I'm all gooey, Charles."

"I've got it." He murmurs, pressing one soft kiss to your cheek, another to your neck. You expect the weight from above to release you, but the warmth radiating from his body remains. You feel lips trace against your chest, his untamed curls tickle your stomach as he traces down a direct line.

"What are you doi-" You never get to finish you question, the fourth word cut off with a soft gasp, those lips which had pressed to yours, now pressing down against your clit, a soft praise towards your body whilst his tongue traced around the sensitive bud, drawing a slice through your wet lips, pressing deeper and deeper into your entrance.

The room is illuminated with your whines, hips bucking against his stubble as he fulfills his promise of cleaning you up.

You loved the feeling of being held.

You’d been unfathomably happy to walk into the paddock that evening, fingers interlaced with Charles’ as he guided the two of you through the fans and photographers alike, buzzing to be starting on Pole Position when his wife would be watching in awe of his achievement.

You hadn’t been there on qualifying day; you were still trying to keep your distance where you could, to prove to your husband he couldn’t instantly win you back overnight. It had only been when he’d come into the en-suite of your room the evening before, hands wrapped around your waist as he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, pleading you came to watch him race the following night.

“I’ll win.” He promises, voice quiet as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “I’ll win it for you.”

His sweet words had not only lured you to the race track the following day but had also drawn you to sleep in his bed that evening, curled up into his toned chest as he murmured words of appreciation in French; only a few you were able to pick up and understand the meaning of as you drifted into a comfortable sleep, arms cradling your body underneath the bed sheets.

There was a collective, loving aura that evening when the two of you had stepped into his garage, the team in awe of seeing that their Prince of Monaco and his beloved Princess had been reunited, here to support one another. However, one figure remained quiet, eyes transfixed on your every movement. He felt his knuckles turn white when Charles had changed into his race suit, placing his cap atop of your own head and had lovingly pressed two kisses to either of your cheeks.

Carlos Sainz was a jealous man; he’d been infuriated when his blonde fling had appeared on his doorstep, instantly realizing the kind of man he must have been made out to be when you’d seen her appear on your departure. He’d hoped and prayed you hadn’t seen her, but from the radio silence he received over messages and calls, to the way you had purposely avoided speaking to him when arriving in the paddock, he could tell you were not that naive.

Emotions had played a heavy part on both of the Ferrari Pilots during the start of the race. One, determined to keep his promise and win whilst his wife was present. The other was so clouded with sadness and rage that all he wanted to do was push his counterpart off the track. The lights snapped off, 20 engines revving in unison as the cars blitzed down the first straight.

It doesn’t take long for emotion to overcome; Charles’ P6 soon creeps towards a P3, whilst Carlos begins to drop. A violent turn into Oscar Piastri not only takes the young rookie out of the race, but the Ferrari driver, too. Nobody misses the swears as he switches the engine off, nor the scowl on his face as he removes the steering wheel, ready to be escorted back to the garage.

When the blur of red comes through the paddock, you can’t help but feel guilty, telling yourself that if you had spoken to him, he would have been able to keep a cool head. Silently, you slip the headphones from your temple, murmuring about going to the bathroom before taking a direct beeline towards Carlos’ room, catching the door just before it’s due to slam closed.

He was seething. Pure rage flicked across his eyes; the warm smile reserved for you replaced with a harsh scowl. This may have been a mistake.

“What do you want?” His words are venom, spit towards you. He cannot stand to see you right now.

“I just-“You pause, clearing your throat. “I wanted to check if you were okay.” It’s a pathetic answer, really. One that didn’t sit right in your mouth, even after you had spoken.

“I’m alright?” He scoffs, shaking his head. “You ignore my calls, go away and fuck that pathetic man and then come back to me?” He’s pissed, undoubtedly so. “You whore. I understand it all now.” He shakes his head, missing the fire which had begun to burn in your own stomach.

“You have no right!” You’d shrieked so loudly you’d startled yourself; one finger was still pointed into his infuriated face, your finger mere millimeters from the bridge of his nose. Hot air engulfed both of your bodies, the only sound present was the deep and heavy breathing flaring from your nostrils.

Without a thought, Carlos had slapped your finger away from his face, lunging forward dramatically to seize your face into his rough palms. His lips are on yours, roughly seeking the wet trace of your tongue. You can’t fight him; not when his lips feel so flawless against your own. A rough palm encases the back of your neck, the other wrapping around your waist as he holds your frame tighter against his own.

Your breath barely had a moment to catch when he forcefully pulled his lips from you, emitting a white from your breath. That innocent sound is soon replaced by a sharp gasp, his fingers tightening against your scalp, pulling on your locks.

“Don’t fucking whine.” He spits, ghosting his lips over your own, never letting them touch yours. Warm breath tickles the shell of your ear when his grip pulls tighter onto your hair, tiling your ear to meet his mouth. “I’m sick of your whining, about your horrible excuse for a husband. I will treat you how you should be treated.”

There’s no time to react as his pink tongue pokes from his lips, a stripe tracing from the corner of your ear, across the sweetest spot of your neck. You’re reveling in the wetness, the sinful way his words litter through the air before teeth sink into your skin. He doesn’t bother to cover your mouth, mute the sweet sounds falling from your lips. There’s no decency anymore, Carlos doesn’t care who sees the marks he engraves into your skin. The ring on your left hand means nothing more than a reminder that he could be better.

“Carlos-“ You struggle to connect the two syllables together, hands gripping through his hair, pulling at the brown locks in your fingers. “Fuck-“

“What did I just say?” He grunts from the valley of your neck, one hand sliding from your waist and flying out, smacking on your clothed butt. The shock simply causes you to gasp out loud, pushing your own throbbing crotch into his hard one. A smirk forms against your neck, clear as day when the man pulls himself from your neck. His lips are wet, saliva from his own mouth tracing around your lips.

One hand finds your face again, grasping at your chin tilting your head backwards to hover below his own. A single finger taps at your lips, signaling for you to open wide for him. He’s sinful as he lets his spit fall across your lips, eyebrows raised as he wraps a hand around your throat, clearly overpowering your stance in this moment.

“Swallow.” He commands, hand resting on your cheek firmly. The tone of his voice sends a shock of energy down your chest and between your legs, cunt throbbing at his words. Of course, you comply, swallowing the remanence he had given you. “Good girl.”

The sweet nicknames in this moment have evaporated; Carlos is nothing short of animalistic, his presence all too understanding as one hand takes its place around your neck, the other grabbing firmly onto your wrist as he guides you backwards, softly falling onto the sofa of his driver’s room. The pitying looks the man gives you sends a thousand messages through your brain.

“No, no. Dirty little girls don’t get to sit on my sofa.” He teases, both hands clasping your waist, sliding you off the plush furnishings and resting on the cold floor, kneeling for the Spaniard. “You need to be on your knees, you need to be taught how to behave.”

Eyes widen as his tanned fingers pull at the knotted arms of the fireproofs resting on his waist. Even through his underclothes, the shape of his hard length is clearly visible, even more so as he removes his underlayers and briefs, letting himself spring freely, one hand rubbing his shaft a few times, the other knotting in the back of your hair.

He loves this; cock in his hand as he taps the tip against each of your cheeks, trailing himself against the parting of your lips, having to hide the shiver from his own body when the wetness of your mouth. His eyes are sparkling when he uses his firm cock to press through your mouth, relishing in the warmth of your lips wrapping around his length.

“That’s it, be a good girl. Take it.” He coos as you struggle to take more of his length, attempting to give small, tentative licks to his cock whilst he slides between your lips. It sends him feral, wild. He thinks of nothing else as both hands grip tightly in your hair, shoving your face into his crotch, your gags music to his ears as he continues to take control of the situation.

When your eyes adjust, look up from his groin, he almost feels sorry for you. They’re wide, glassy, snuffles falling from your lips as he continues his forceful attack. One hand slowly removes itself from the strain on your locks, tracing over your cheek, thumb rubbing underneath your eye, removing the salty tears as your breath remains heavy through your nose.

“Oh, poor baby.” He teases, pace never relenting. “This is what you need, someone to put you in your place, remind you what you deserve for teasing me, making me jealous.” He can’t help but chuckle at the pathetic sound coming from your lips. He can feel his stomach tightening, the warmth drawing an imminent release from his cock. This isn’t how he wants to finish, he can’t yet.

Your mouth feels empty when he pulls out, giving you no warning, the gasps falling from your lips at the sudden gain of air. He doesn’t give you time to respond, a heavy hand pushing your front to the floor, lifting your hips, ass straight back in the air. No warning, the skirt of your dress is lifted, the wetness of your cunt seeping through your panties. The anticipation kills you, until a warm finger slides into your folds with no warning. Your body can’t help but react, clenching around the warmness without even realizing. You also don’t realize the sounds you’re making, until the finger removes itself, a palm harshly smacking on your behind.

“What did I say about noises?” He grunts, leaning around to push the wet finger into your own mouth. “Do you like it? Taste what I do to you?” Hurriedly, he presses his finger in and out of your lips a few times before returning it to your wet hole, wiggling in the air. This time there’s two; stretching you out, your palms trying to find anything to grip, to hold on to as he carelessly thrusted, tickling a sweet, sweet spot deep in your stomach.

“I- Carlos I can’t-“ You whine through raspy breaths. He can feel you clenching, swelling around his fingers, and is rewarded when he hastily pulls them out of you, a long moan and a squirt of arousal pushing from your cunt. A sheer shock of arousal floods between his own legs, rubbing his fingers against your wet folds, letting your wetness trail onto the tips of his hand.

“Oh, your husband can’t make you do that, can he?” He’s proud; proud he’s able to draw such a reaction from your body. “Come on, baby, up we get.” His arms are suddenly firm, present around your waist as he pulls you to stand on two shaky legs, still reveling in the feeling he had granted you moments ago.

Hands retract from your waist and come to hold your face, pressing kisses to your scarlet lips as he guides you from a standing position towards his couch, finally allowing himself to sink into the cushions. You want nothing more than to join him, feel his warmth and aura around your own body, but by the finger he’s raised as he situates himself into the sofa, you can tell you’ll have to wait.

The moment he sits down, a tanned hand comes to his crotch to rub his length a few times, your eyes widening as you plead for it; mind clouded by lust, all you want is for something warm to fill you up, make you feel as good as he had done so many times before. Carlos’ finger beckons for you to join him, and you know what he’s insinuating.

Your movements are commanded by the Spaniard; immediately, there are two firm hands on your body, pulling you into his touch and sinking you down onto his cock. You don’t miss the way his lips quirk into a grin, oh-so-happy to see your reaction to the pleasure he had granted you. It’s no match for when he starts moving, bouncing you up and down on his lap, fallen gasps from your lips as your faces draw closer and closer.

You were sinking into one another’s skin; he wanted nothing more than to entwine your bodies for eternity. One hand was firm around your waist, guiding your movement with the strength only he could. The other guided a gentle trace across your face, pulling you closer, closer to his own face as his thrusts got faster, erratic.

“You’re mine.” He grunts, never once breaking eye contact as his hips grew tighter, his cock making your cunt squeeze in a way you didn’t know was physically possible. “You’ve always been mine, tell me you’re mine.”

His eyes go soft, thrusts pausing for a second as he notes the tears pooling in your eyes from the sheer euphoria running through your body. A whine falls from your lips as you feel his strong hand tug at your neck, pressing your foreheads towards one another, hips slowing for just a moment, letting your breath catch up to your aching body.

“I’m yours.” You’d whisper, mind clouded. You were his. There could be a thousand cars, an ocean or a wedding band between the two of you and you would still always find your way back to Carlos. Whatever that relationship would form, you would always be a part of him.

The murmured confirmation was enough to send a shot of energy through his spine, his thrusting becoming deeper, passionate. It barely takes five thrusts before he’s groaning, throwing his head back and letting out a low moan as he spills himself into you. The warmth is enough to send your cunt into flutters, clenching so tightly as your body falls into his chest, whining as you feel a gush of wetness drip onto his crotch.

Undoubtedly, Carlos Sainz is now a part of you. Time seems to flicker between seconds and minutes, at some point you’ve shifted your weight, turning around to fix your eyes onto the television screen of his room, eyes wide as you watch your husband continue to battle out on the track. It felt almost sinful; watching Charles battle for his podium whilst his teammate stayed buried inside of you.

His touch goes soft; one hand remains tight around your waist, though your back is warmed by the way you’re pulled back into his skin. Feather-Light kisses dance across your shoulder, he’s never been this soft, cradling you as if the world would be held together by your content. If the universe was to implode, he would be happy with the fact you were pressed into him in that very moment.

The laps of the race begin to dwindle; a promising second-place is looking pretty much secured for Charles. You’re certain that your silver trophy will be sitting proudly in the hotel room later that evening, until Max Verstappen suddenly begins to slow down, commentators beginning to roar as an unexpected engine issue splutters into the RB19.

“Holy shit.” Carlos murmurs, sitting up from his relaxed position, both arms now tightly around your waist as he shifts the balance of your bodies. “What happened to Max?” His voice becomes a murmur, your attention drifts, focused on the cars beginning to pick up their speed against the current world champion.

Goosebumps litter your skin, you immediately pull away from the warmth of Carlos, eyes wide as you see the scarlet red car glide into view. He’s going to overtake Max. Not only that, but your husband is about to win the entire race.

An audible groan comes from both of you when you slip yourself off his length, searching around for the panties which had been discarded oh-so-long ago; the man rests a hand on your shoulder, one hand tracing across your jawline as the other reaches down, gently smoothing the skirt of your long dress.

“We’ll find them later. We need to go and congratulate your husband, after all.” You can’t miss the cockiness in his voice, still content with the fact his cum is buried deep inside your pussy, panties are left in his driver’s room as a sheer prize for being able to make you feel euphoric. A tinted blush decorates your cheeks as he slips into his old jeans and a Ferrari polo shirt, one hand resting on the small of your back as he guides you out of his driver’s room, never once bothering to fix his hair when you had been the one to grab onto it so tightly.

People wouldn’t think that of him, after all.

You love to be loved.

Your eyes are brimming with tears as you reach Parc Fermé, Carlos finally catching up with you, standing right behind you at the barrier, eyes transfixed onto his teammate, standing atop of his livery, cheering towards the endless roars of the crowd, passing a congratulatory message towards his fellow drivers, Lewis patting his back, Lando cheering on his behalf.

He’s already removed his helmet when he sprints towards his team; the losses don’t matter, not when he can celebrate the win he had been craving for so, so long. There are praises passed, pats on the back as he works his way down the winding line of his team, red in their clothes and their cheeks, it means the world to everybody.

And then, Charles is facing you, his wife. He’s so transfixed upon your gaze, the sheer elation you have for his victory that he doesn’t stop to think when he takes two of his hands on either side of your face, cradling your cheeks as he presses his lips to yours, grinning into such a sweet kiss that you can’t help but kiss him back.

“I told you.” He whispers when he pulls away from you, resting a gentle hand on your cheek for just a moment. His eyes finally turned to where his teammate was standing. Both of them have to forge a smile as they reach out to clasp hands, a firm grip in celebration of scoring points for their team.

You don’t see him again, not until he’s left the cool-down room and is bounding towards the podium. Carlos, having not been called to his post-race interview yet, still stood behind you, though one hand had snaked its way around your waist, as if it had to be there. Nobody notices, of course. The team is too focused upon their driver lifting his golden trophy, in awe of the achievement they had built for seemingly the entire season.

Charles doesn’t miss it, of course. Maybe that’s why his gaze is so fixed on you when he releases a splash of champagne, purposely aiming his bottle towards the man behind you, his heart only crushing further when he sees the Spaniard pull your frame behind his own in protection.

And then, it’s all over. Both Carlos and Charles are rushed away to complete their post-race interviews. You’re left alone, simply taking a slow walk towards the Ferrari Hospitality. Even as you pace through the crowds, you can’t help but feel…sick. Dizzy. Out-of-body.

You cared for your husband greatly, and somewhere during it all, you believed his apology was genuine, that he truly wanted to fix the previous mistakes of the year. But how long would his tether last until his mistress came trailing back, regardless of a court ruling?

And Carlos. The sweet man who had proved to you time and time again, you were worth more than a simple name on a piece of paper. He’d been your soul, you truly were set to drop an entire marriage to live in his arms until his blonde counterpart came along, a knife to the chest after one of the most intimate nights you could fathom.

Your breathing gets faster, the world begins to turn on an axis. From somewhere, you hear a voice asking if you’re okay, if you need help getting back to the hospitality. And then, the world goes black, your body slumps to the floor of the paddock, with only one sentence drifting through your unconscious mind.

Who do you love?

This is everyone who asked to be tagged! @Mac-daddy-210 @aundercover @barnestatic @omgsuperstarg @chimchimjiminie16 @caelum-the-part-time-nihilist @magicalcowboyarbiter @gaslasysblog @junetto @beatrizmel-472 @motorsp0rt @crowdthena @screemqueen @lewislvr @styles-sunflower @itspaddockprincess @adeptustemptations @amalialeclerc @meetmyblondemuffins @formulanando @lorarri @christianpulisic10 @gaypoetsblog @thisbitxhs-blog @goldsainz @ru-kru @magical-spit @hrlzy @nooshytushie @gaslysainz @marvel-at-stucky @sugarvibez @adeptustemptations @roseseraj @leclercdream @pjofics @hecatesfavoritechild @poseforme @thisbitxhs-blog @adalynneva @meganlikes2purr @sabrinaselina55 @laneyspaulding19 @heavenlyiecreature @pink-teddy-bear @nooshytushie @strawberries-and-racing @milasexutoire @ohthemisssery @florkt @obsessedwiththeideaofyou @ru-kru @myhomeworksnotdone @ineedafictionalman @bregarc @allywthsr @summerslike11 @wildcupcake @willowpains @marlenamallowan @leclercloml @katzenwahnsinn @be-your-coffee-pot

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slashersidewhore · 11 months

Text

Slashers! HC S/O nearly killed by a victim

Slashers!Sinclair brothers x gn!reader

Includes Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Lester Sinclair

Requested? Yes

Warnings: max angst, lots of self deprecating thoughts from the slashers, blood, mentions of gore, lots of violence, happy ending (you survive!)

Bo Sinclair

You weren’t supposed to be at the house, Bo was sure you were out getting groceries, you told him you were

You placed the several brown bags you could carry from the pickup onto the kitchen counter, used to the silence that filled the dimly lit home

Turning to make your way back outside, you froze in your spot when merely a few yards away stood a man, face twisted in agony, blood covering the lower portion of his body, it looked like he’d been stabbed by Vincent’s sheers, so why was he upstairs?

“You’re one of them”

The man seemed to only grow in size from the sheer mass of his clear anger, chest puffing to reveal a stutter in his breath, as if he was using borrowed time

You weren’t sure if saying anything would help, you were bringing in groceries, of course you were one of them, there was no way to free yourself from this situation

Glancing over at the knife block, wide eyes switched back to the man who had seen the subtle movement, brows furrowing, and then he charged

“They killed my girlfriend!”

The stranger snarled as he gained on you, hands reaching out to grab your arm, your neck, whenever he could reach in his rage fueled attack

Slipping on your heel to get to the knives, the recently mopped floor proved to be a disadvantage, only giving the man a better angle to grab the collar of the back of your shirt, pulling it back, before slamming you into one of the counters

The impact against your stomach wasn’t pleasant, you could feel the bruise already forming as you were dragged back, grabbing anything you could as pitiful noises left your lips

Throwing the salt and pepper shakers, a clean plate, anything at him you could get your hands on, nothing seemed to faze him as you threw you against the adjacent cabinets

Forehead slamming into the sharp edge of wood, red filled your already blurring vision, your weak yelp for anyone nearby that could help fell deaf on the empty corridors of the house, where the hell were the guys?

“You sick bitch, you’re all sick”

The man spat in your face, spit hitting your cheek as he did so, then he was once again lifting you from where he’d tossed you like a rag doll, this time letting your body fall rather limply to the tiled floor

“You’ll get what’s coming to you, if it’s the last thing I do”

You could hear the slight motion of the man reaching over your body, plucking a knife from the block a few feet away and kneeling over your aching body

His legs were at either side of your hips, arms raised high as he didn’t think twice before lowering the weapon

A shout echoed from the near distance, heavy footsteps on the wooden floor, in a last ditch effort with all the remaining strength to could muster, you lifted a knee to the mans crotch, resulting in a deep howl of pain, and a burning sensation as the knife landed deep in your shoulder

Then the man was off of you, ripped from your body by someone far stronger, the shouting picked up again, the enraged, bellowing noises bouncing off the walls as you figured the escaped victim was being rightfully dealt with

Right as the man’s shadow was gone, another more broad figure appeared over you, this time at the side of your injured body.

“Oh baby, oh fuck,” It was Bo’s voice, his tones drawl making your heart flutter, or was that the stab wound? It felt as if the room was spinning in its axis, turned upside down and steeping your body in darkness, “Shit, I thought ya were outta the house.”

Vincent was hovering in the distance, gauging the wound from the distance he stood before rushing off the gather the proper items to best help you. Bo was at a loss, wanting to lean down while also warning himself that his touch would only cause more pain. Why were you home? Why didn’t he check the house first? Why did he just assume you would be out for hours? This was his fault, he left you vulnerable and alone, in a place he knew could bs unsafe when they brought, “guests”, home. Your weak whine of his name drove his stomach to lurch forward, bile trying to climb him throat, body hot to the touch with panic and his eyes swam with guilt.

“I’ve got ya now, nothin’ll hurt ya anymore,” Bo fell on his ass to get closer to you, lifting your upper body carefully before laying it steadily in his lap. Your pained wince at being moved to any extent shot right through the man’s heart, his body folding over yours slightly, almost as if trying to protect what was left of you from the outside world. Your delicate cries as blood seeped through your clothes only drew the man further from rationally, mind racing at what he would do to the dead body mere feet away when he was done tending to you, “Vincent! Get yur ass in here!”

“I’m here baby, don’t ya worry, I’ve got ya.”

Vincent Sinclair

You were never involved with the victims, as much as Vincent trusted you, he didn’t trust any stranger within a mile of Ambrose, the thought of someone full of fear or anger anywhere in your vicinity made his skin crawl beneath his usual wool sweaters

Luckily for the town over, there weren’t three deranged brothers causing havoc, in fact it was odd being in a populated area where no one even knew of Ambrose’s happenings, or the men beneath it

So when a van full of curious, college aged boys came strolling through the, “abandoned”, streets, you had made the choice to go out for the day, visit that nearby town where Vincent knew you would be safe for the most part

Which lead to the present, where you were calmly walking back to Ambrose along the two lane, quiet, wooded backroad, wicker basket in hand with various items you deemed interesting enough to take back

Although the snap of a branch caught your ear, a man no older than you stumbling along the path, if the splatters of blood along his body weren’t an indicator of where he’d left, the thick globs of wax painting his left arm did

“Miss? Fuck, help me!”

The man called to you, clearly desperate in his current predicament, there wasn’t much you could do, you didn’t have a cellphone, you’d already been walking for a half mile, what could you possibly be able to help him with?

“There’s these crazy guys that tried to kill me! We need to get away from here!”

Before you could even summon a response, the staggering stranger that had since gotten closer paused, face pursing, lips tight as a look of realization crossed his face

“Your face, there were drawings of your face in that basement”

“I don’t know what you mean, here, let’s-“

You didn’t get much of a sentence out before the man was pushing you to the ground, intentions clear as he kneeled above you, planting your lower body to the gravel side of the road before punching aimlessly at your face

“Please-“

“You’re with those sick bastards aren’t you? You must be fucked in the head too, after all the bodies I saw!”

The punches kept landing, your nose surely broken by the onslaught, blood draining down your jaw, by your ears, into your mouth

The heavy smell of iron palette-able as another swift hit was served to your mouth, bottom lip busting open with thick, red spilling out

The man just kept screaming in your face, spit flying as he did so, it was as if his rage fueled attack would never cease, maybe he hadn’t gotten hurt all that much and his adrenaline was through the roof

Either way it was as if the beating was only getting worse as the minutes ticked by, you felt lucky he didn’t have an actual weapon on his person

As if some kind of saving grace had heard you, the rumbling of what sounded like a familiar old pickup roared in the distance, getting louder by the second

Right as the shriek of tires echoed across the otherwise silent road, your tired eyelids fluttered shut, allowing the all consuming haze to take its place in your body

Some time later

“How the hell should I know when she’s gon’ wake up?” That voice was familiar, the low timbre of an accent you knew all too well. It was buzzing through your head, and although you were thankful to even be here to listen to it, there was one thing you wished was present as well.

“Hey, her eyes are opening,” And that’s when you heard the shuffling, heavy boots on a concrete floor, when Bo’s agitated voice once again striking your growing headache, “alright, alright! I’m goin’.”

An all too warm, fuzzy feeling filled your chest when Vincent’s head popped into view, hair tied back loosely with little bits of wax here and there. Although lumbering over you, his movements were cautious, slow and steady as you could make out his eyes scanning your form meticulously. It felt as though you were one of his pieces of artwork, carefully watched over to make sure you wouldn’t melt.

“Vince, are you okay?” Your whisper of a question caused the man’s head to drop into the crook of your neck, whether overwhelmed or still worried it just seemed he needed a moment to process all that had happened. It was only minutes ago you were still out cold, laying on one of his work tables as Bo stood with a disapproving look. Art supplies strewn, chairs overturned, even the most delicate wax sculptures he’d done were crumbled on the floor. The man hadn’t been able to contain the absolute ice that ran through his veins upon seeing Lester carrying your lifeless form into the house, especially considering he didn’t even know if you were still alive.

Large, rough hands shaking like a kitten, the man leaned back to run his fingers over the side of your injured face, the touch gentle, barely there. The soft tilt of his head told you he was fine, seemingly still stressing about your current state. As you became more aware of your surroundings, you realized one of Vincent’s wood sweaters covered a portion of your upper body, like a makeshift blanket. Fingers weakly knocking into his elbow, the masked man took notice and immediately intertwined them with his, palm warm against yours. His free hand reached up to caress your jaw, without words but as if to say,

‘You’re safe now.’

Lester Sinclair

Lester wasn’t ever particularly involved in the murders, in fact he felt his best work was cleaning up the eventual aftermath

That being said, you were usually by his side at all hours, both day and night, keeping him and Jonsey company

“Be right back darlin’”

Lester flashed a toothy grin in your direction, sitting on the hood of the trunk while he hoisted a large, dead dead over his shoulder

This had been majority of the day so far, you enjoying the shady sun while he hauled carcasses of roadkill over to the designated dump sight

“I’ll stay right here!”

You chuckle, watching the red dusting over his ears fade as he continued to walk further down the slope

Glancing down to where Jonsey was laying, you did a double take when the little lady had somewhere vanished, head whipping side to side, yes she was an independent dog but that doesn’t mean you didn’t worry sometimes

Barking in the distance cut through your immediate panic, somewhere off to the left in the densely wooded forest

“Jonsey?”

You called as you hopped off the cars hood, jogging towards the sounds origin as it only continued

It didn’t sound like her normal bark though, it was vicious, angry, maybe she’d run into a squirrel or other wild animal of some kind that had gotten her all up in action

“There you are girl!”

You exclaimed as your turn around the tree revealed the dog, facing away from you, as your eyes left the furry creature it landed on a man not much older than you, standing before you and Jonsey with a knife in hand

“Sorry about my dog, she can be overly cautious”

You tried to reason, deflecting from the chance he may know more than you hoped, and unfortunately his fist only clenched further around the blades handle, face pulled in a snarl

“Yeah, the same dog I saw in that auto shop, with that guy who killed my girlfriend”

“Listen, I don’t know what you’re here to do-“

Before you could even finish your statement he was already on you, knocking you back with a heavy hand before slashing towards your stomach

Thankfully you were able to dodge the first swing, although he wasn’t stopping anytime soon, in fact your fear only seemed to spur him on as he swung again, and again

Unfortunately he had backed you into a tree, another aim at your body immediately ripping through your (Lester’s) shirt, blood leaking from ripped skin, another across your forehead, red spilling into your waterline as your thunderous scream of Lester’s name left your quivering lips

“I didn’t kill your girlfriend”

“But you’re chummy with the bastard that did”

His final strike ended with him aiming down and up, the smooth surface of the knife gliding into your skin like butter, the sob it ripped from you was pitiful, as was the way you fell to your knees

Then a gunshot rang out

“Darlin’?” There stood Lester, rusty, old shotgun in hand that was still aimed at the now fallen body, lowering it too glance over at you in panic. His rushed footfall crunched leaves, his quick footing hit a root and nearly tripping him if his objective wasn’t so focused on. Dropping to your level, the man held his hands to where you were gripping your wrist.

“Show me, how bad is it?” The concern and fear tainting his voice was almost painful to hear, pulling your palms away to reveal a river of crimson. Hissing as he lifted the edge of the shirt you had stolen from him this morning, to reveal a bloody but shallow wound. It looked as if the guy had missed, only slicing at your side, not your gut as he most likely planned.

“Hurts,” you mumble as your body begins to try and lose consciousness, the adrenaline now leaving your system. Lester caught on, leaning you into him before lifting you against his slim body, careful to not press into any of your injuries, “Lester”.

“I know honey, I’ll get ya all patched up, don’t ya worry.” The man shouldered your weight, holding a tough facade despite the way his heart was slowly crumbling inside his chest cavity. If he made it one second later, you could’ve been gone forever. The thought felt like ice water poured over his head, sinking into his veins. Next time he would have to watch over you better, keep you safer. No, there wouldn’t be a next time, he would make sure no one could even attempt to get near you.

“Ain’t ever gonna let that happen again”

If y’all would like to see other parts of this either others slashers list their names in the comments or in my inbox!

As always requests are always open!

#slasher #slasher x reader #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #lester sinclair #house of wax #house of wax x reader #slashers x you #slashers x y/n

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shabre-legacy · 6 months

Note

For the kiss prompts: 46 for Tyrenic/Jemsyn and/or 23 for Leikael/Corso

So I borrowed Jemsyn to write this for the prompt. I'll do a post for the Leikael and Corso one after I finish it. For now, enjoy Tyrenic/Jemsyn. If I wrote him ooc please let me know and I'll fix

Tyrenic leans on the arm of his target, a tall Weequay currently ordering another round in the dark club. It wasn’t a high end place, but the kind of fancy that still allowed the sleazy and criminal customers among their clientele. Various dancers were scattered around the room, in lifted cages, on platforms and scattered across the floor.

Tyrenic himself is a lightly dressed as any of them. A pink fishnet crop top that’s almost too small and a tiny pair of leather minishorts that clung to the curve of his ass and finished off with a pair of pink and black stilleto heels, tall under the toe as well as the heel. It made him just a couple inches shorter than the seven foot tall at least Weequay.

He had his eyes made up with glitter shadow, mascara, and heavy eyeliner giving him a perpetually hooded eye expression and a gloss that made his lips look plumper and more kissable then usual. He looked cheap, blowjobs for a pat on the head and a puff of a deathstick cheap; which was exactly what he’d wanted when he walked into the club. It hadn’t taken long for him to convince everyone that he was a new dancer, and even less time when he located his target to convince the man to ‘buy’ him for the night. He feels exposed like this, like everyone is staring at him and not for the usual reasons. It’s exciting, but also makes him nervous. He’s glad he brought Shelerik in as backup. Knowing the other Jedi is in the crowd, playing at being just another patron, but keeping an eye on him is reliving. Nothing that bad can happen, at least not anything he doesn’t have to go along with to maintain his cover. This was important enough to withstand some uncomfortable moments, or a lot of them, with this guy.

He carefully keeps any trace of discomfort off his face as his ‘date’ downs another shot and yanks him in, one hand dropping down to grope Tyrenic’s ass, the other holding his neck possessively as he kisses him, it’s sloppy, with too much tongue and a bit gross, but he goes along with it. Placing a hand on the Weequay’s chest and arching into him, he’s being paid for this after all. It takes a few minutes before the man decides he’s had enough for now and hands their drinks to Tyrenic and starts to guide him towards the dark back corners by the hips. As they make their way through the crowd, some of the other customers jostle them, the target shoved away a moment as a tall Mirialan is shoved into Tyrenic’s shoulder, almost knocking him off his heels. The man catches him around the waist and pulls him upright again, using the moment to drop his head and whisper “Your soldier’s here. Alcove down the hall past the bathrooms.”

Tyrenic just drops his head back letting a simpering smile fall over his face as the target moves back to him. “I appreciate the catch handsome, but unfortunately, I’m all booked for tonight. I’ll be around tomorrow if you’re still interested. I promise it’s a good time.” He half turns to look at the Weequay with hooded eyes. “So which one’s our table again?” He waits until they get there and he sets the drinks down and his target sits before bending over to whisper in his ear. “I’ll be right back and we can start this private party.” The man glares, but Tyrenic dispels it with a nudge from the Force and a wink. “Fresher.”

He makes sure to swing his hips more than necessary as he struts through the crowd, slipping into the hall and making his way to the alcove. He hadn’t had time to let Jemsyn know he was on planet, or going undercover, let alone what type of undercover work he was doing.

The Mirialan Mandalorian is pacing across the small alcove as Tyrenic quietly steps inside. He turns quickly and steps close, grabbing onto Tyrenic’s forearms and looking in his eyes. “Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

Tyrenic looks down at him, the heels emphasizing the height difference, a flirty grin on his lips. “No baby, I’m fine. It’s all fine.”

Jemsyn relaxes a bit, only for the concern to be replaced with a restrained anger. “Ok good. Tell me what the kriff that was? I come in for a night out and I find my boyfriend, making out with some random guy who’s got his hands all over you!” He steps back, folding his arms and staring Tyrenic down.

Tyrenic takes advantage of the height difference to lean over Jemsyn, resting his arm on the wall. “Don’t worry love.” He drops his head till he can whisper into Jemsyn’s ear. “I’m undercover, that man is part of a network grabbing alien refugees from Coruscant and other core worlds and selling them to the empire. We got the info on our way back and didn’t have time to contact you or anyone else before we had to jump into action. He’s got specific tastes and I fit the bill best.”

Jemsyn didn’t look convinced. “And that involves making out with him how? Couldn’t you go in as a buyer or potential business contact?”

Tyrenic sighs. “Wish we could love. But he never meets with contacts he doesn’t know without an introduction and we don’t have time to get one. But he pays a dancer almost every time he comes to a club and the drinks make him chatty. I let him kiss and grope a little, keep him talking, as soon as I get what I need, I signal Shelerik, he steps in and makes the arrest and we use the information to shut down the network.”

Jemsyn nods slowly as he absorbs what was said. “I still don’t like it, but I understand. Try to give me some warning next time you have to do something like this.”

Tyrenic nods before dropping his head to kiss and nip at Jemsyn’s neck. “I promise I’ll make it up to you later. How does a private dance in one of those lounges sound?”

Jem looks up at him with a familiar heat in his eyes. “That sounds wonderful cyare.” He deliberately looks Tyrenic up and down slowly. “I have to say, I like this look.”

Renic preens at the praise. “Glad you approve. I haven’t worn some of this since I was like 16.”

“You are very pretty and I love the way these shorts just cling. Stars you are pretty, all dolled up slutty like this.”

Tyrenic drops his head and his voice, husky and sensual, dripping in promises. “Give me another hour or so to finish up and I’ll be your personal slut for the rest of the night.”

Jemsyn seems conflicted, excited by the idea but not happy about Tyrenic going back to that Weequay. “I’ll hold you to that, but first…” He grabs Tyrenic and twists quickly, slamming the taller Jedi against the wall and stepping between his legs. He leans up at the same time he pulls Tyrenic down and kisses him. It’s desperate and devouring and perfect, Jemsyn pours all of his jealously into the kiss, making sure Tyrenic remembers exactly who he belongs to.

Tyrenic moans wantonly into the kiss, dropping his arms around Jemsyn’s neck and kissing back just as fiercely. His tongue tangles with his lovers as time stops around them. Eventually they are forced to break the kiss to breathe, only for Jemsyn to immediately attach himself to Tyrenic’s neck seemingly intent on leaving hickey’s for Tyrenic to walk out with. Tyrenic uses the last bit of his mental fortitude and will to drag himself up and out of reach. “Later love, after I’m done, you can leave all the marks you like.” He leans down and captures Jemsyn’s lips in another deep kiss before he pushes against the wall and slips out of Jemsyn’s arms. He turns and winks as he waltzes away, his hip swaying in his heels. He couldn’t wait to get this done and finally be able to put on a real show for the person who actually mattered.

#swtor #asks #fanfics #tyrenic #tyrenic shabre #Jemsyn

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officialaemondtargaryen · 2 months

Text

Never Gonna Be Alone [part 1]

Summary: A collection of small moments that lead to falling in love with your roommate. This is a Modern Day!AU.

Pairing: Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Author's Note: I've been writing two horribly depressing stories simultaneously for a while now and I needed a break from the angst. I hope that you all enjoy this.

Warnings for the entire series: language, drug & alcohol use, pining, fluff, possible angst, and possible sexual content. Plus, me attempting to be a comedian.

Playlist here!

She said, "he's kind of messy in every aspect of his life, but he's fun to be around!" Then, she very positively followed that up with, "I think you two would really get along!"

You met Helaena in college, and to be honest, you really didn't know her that well. She was a friend of a friend who had been in a few of the same classes as you, went to the same bars, and had a similar taste in art and music. She'd like every selfie, or ask to borrow a book you posted about, but you had never really hung out alone together.

So when your phone started ringing on a Friday night, after you were already three margaritas deep and swimming in queso dip at your cousin's birthday party, and it was Helaena Targaryen's name flashing across the screen, you were admittedly concerned; though, you'd always known her to be a pretty sincere person, so you took her word for it when she said that you should let her older brother move into the empty, second bedroom of your apartment. It might have been the tequila, or the fact that you were just that desperate, but you immediately agreed to her proposition without question.

You had been trying to rent the room out for months when it became impossible to afford the luxury of living alone, but every person that was interested happened to fall through for one reason or another. You had even offered a discounted rate (as the bedroom was smaller than yours and there was only one bathroom and it was a Jack-and-Jill), but you still couldn't find a good fit.

Enter Aegon Targaryen.

Suddenly, a guy whom you could only describe as 'that has to be Helaena's brother', was knocking on your door a week later. There was beat up Wrangler sitting on the curb behind him filled to the roof with cardboard boxes, and a tiny U-Haul hitched to the bumper with what little bit of furniture he had. He looked at you, blinked a few times and said, "I'm Aegon." You introduced yourself and he nodded; there were no pleasantries, no hand shakes or smiles. He just walked into your apartment, looked around, and then started moving his things in.

It was mid-July, so obviously there were better things you could be doing with your time than helping a complete stranger move his things into your home during a drought and a heat wave. Yet, you slid on your sandals and got to work after you had started to feel bad that you were sitting pretty in the air conditioning while your new roommate struggled in the humidity.

It didn't take long until the only thing left was his mattress. You weren't even sure how he got that monstrosity stuffed into the tiny trailer in the first place. It was ridiculously bulky and much heavier than it needed to be, but he swore that it was the most comfortable mattress you'd ever lay on in your life- a fact that you would just have to take his word for. You struggled, a lot, but put on a brave face as Aegon did most of the heavy lifting in the back and you navigated up front.

As you were coming up the porch steps with your sunglasses sliding off of your face as you dripped with sweat, and your arms tired from hours of heavy lifting (saving the heaviest for last, which was a terrible idea), you ended up missing the stoop completely and landing on your ankle awkwardly. You played it off until you had gotten the mattress onto his bed frame, and then silently cried about it in your now shared bathroom; quietly cursing the economy for forcing this situation upon you. Later that night as you were sitting on the couch, with your swollen ankle elevated on a couple of throw pillows, your new roommate tosses a bag of frozen peas in your lap and continues into his room with a bowl of cereal for dinner.

"Thanks," you called after him but only heard the sound of his bedroom door closing in reply.

Over the next few weeks you observed quite a bit about Aegon Targaryen. You knew which spoon was his favorite, how he preferred his tea, that he washed his hair with tea tree shampoo, and enjoyed mint chocolate chip ice cream. He cut the crust off of his sandwiches when he ate them at home, but when he packed his lunch he left them on. He could drink an entire box of wine by himself, but he typically stopped after two glasses, and he always asked if you wanted him to pour you one. He talked to his siblings a lot, but never his parents, and he really enjoyed watching dog videos on his phone while sitting on the couch as you tried to watch your show.

And when he laughed, he belly laughed, and you couldn't help but smile softly to yourself when he did.

Despite how taciturn he may have been, he was still good company, even if you were just sitting on opposite ends of the sofa doing your own thing. He always thanked you when you would leave leftovers in the fridge with a sticky note that had his name on it, and you started making sure that you made enough for two. When he came home late on the weekends, he tried his absolute hardest to do so quietly, but with those hardwood floors, it was almost impossible. He'd wake you up every single time, but you would never say anything. It was hardly an inconvenience after the many nights you'd fall asleep to the sound of him softly strumming his guitar in the next room.

And yet, you just couldn't help but wait for the other shoe to drop. Because it had to, right? Surely this would be a nightmare; God finally sending a punishment for your sins and giving him the face of a literal angel for shits and giggles. You weren't entirely convinced he wasn't Karma-In-Disguise, as the only other option was just too good to be true.

One morning you woke to find Aegon in the kitchen, standing at the counter, making himself a cup of tea. He had already brewed a pot of coffee for you and there was a box of assorted pastries sitting on the table, one of which he was holding between his teeth as he poured a splash of milk into his cup. He turned to you, leaning against the counter and took a bite out of his scone.

"What's this?" You quirked an eyebrow as you studied the scene.

"A 'thank you', I s'pose," he shrugged, voice deep with residual exhaustion. He scratched at the short stubble on his chin, almost nervously, "It's been like a month since I moved in here, and, to be honest, I wasn't really expecting you to let me stay longer than a week."

You laughed softly and took a few steps deeper into the kitchen, taking note of how comfortable the space was with his presence in it. You couldn't ignore the way your pulse quickened at the sight of him in this light; the way the soft, morning sun bounced off of his blonde hair like a halo. He stayed right where he was as you moved around him; his tired, blue eyes following as you grabbed your favorite mug and a spoon from the drawer.

"To be honest, I wasn't expecting you to want to stay," you mentioned as you stood next to him and added two scoops of sugar to your cup. Your eyes flickered up to meet his stare, which was so blue you might as well have been looking up at the sky itself. "We're basically strangers."

"I wouldn't say that," he shrugged, lips curling into a small smirk, and you had to stop looking at him before you spilled coffee all over yourself.

"Oh? What are we then?" You asked, feeling your cheeks warming slightly as you averted your gaze.

"Not strangers," you could hear the smirk in his tone; his gaze lingering for a moment longer before he took another bite of his pastry and pushed himself off the counter. "Besides," he added, taking a few steps towards the living room before glancing back at you. "A stranger wouldn't know your favorite bakery."

You laughed softly through your nose, realizing that your new roommate had just admitted to eavesdropping on your late-night FaceTime conversations with your best friend. Though, you were sure it was only because he didn't have a choice in the matter; the walls were paper-thin, after all. But, you remembered telling her just the day before yesterday how badly you were craving a chocolate croissant, but getting one was difficult because they were always sold out.

There were four chocolate croissants in that box.

"Fuck," you sighed.

#I know this isn't what y'all wanted but it's what ya got #aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x you #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen x you #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x you #hotd #house of the dragon #modern aegon #modern!aegon targaryen #helaena targaryen

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christinebloodwrittings · 29 days

Text

To hunt or be hunted #8

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader x Lucifer Summary: The revelation that pulled off bits of your armor. Warnings: Song fic, violence, mental breakdown.

Hazbin Taglist: @sakuraluna2468 @boogiemansbitch @mysterypotatoink @sibsteria @cherry-cola-100 @readergirlstuff @phoenixica24 @martinys-world @alientee @jellyroom2 @jewelsrules @ladyzaunis @zealousllamawolf @kittycat246 @shamblezzz

(Picture belongs to Vivzie) (I’ll Never Smile Again, by Tommy Dorsey)

After taking a deep breath, you opened the duffle bag. A brown leather bag containing the clothes you died in, a man’s hunting attire you borrowed from a dead man, and your axe. You smiled, remembering when Charlie tried to lift it, the metal of the blade being far too heavy to carry, even with both her hands.

In yours it weighed a lot, but that gave you always the necessary momentum to cut a skull in half.

For this event, you would have to look like the Axe-man, for that you used the black corset, had a plaque of angelic steal embedded under the fabric. On top of the white dress shirt, your brown vest and long black coat. On one thigh you strapped your dagger and on the other a small pistol, both covered by the long brown skirt that matched your vest.

As you made your was back to the parlor, your serious aura called the attention of the members in the room, “Someone’s gonna die” Angel partially joked, essentially because your pupils weren’t dilated and you looked armed to the teeth.

“Oh darling, now that is how we kill in style” Alastor brought your eyes to him by directing your face with a finger under your jaw.

“Hopefully we won’t have to, but it doesn’t hurt to be ready” You noticed Alastor’s bow tie was slightly out of place, so you took it upon yourself to pull him to lean a little, undo it, and tie it to perfection all over again. He had left his tie crooked on purpose so you would fix it.

“Uuh, smiles got a date” Angel winked at you, “This will be more fun than a that, won’t it, Alastor?” he put his hand on your shoulder smiling sweetly, “Indeed chérie”, maybe you’ll admit to him that you adore the way he speaks French to you, one day.

“Be careful, with whatever you guys do” Charlie felt some of your pain, it would weight on her far too much if she did entirely. The thought of not seeing you again hunted her as the months got by, would never say that directly to you.

“We will princess, don’t fret, I would never risk an asset as priceless as our dear chef” he made you laugh, “Asset?” you playfully hit his side, “I mean it in the best of ways, sweetheart” in a way to fix his dumb joke, he took your hand and kiss your palm.

“Going out?” Lucifer walked down the stairs, you noticed he was fresh out of the shower, given hoy fluffy his hair looked, oh how you wanted to pat his head. “Y/n and I will be addressing a loose end, nothing that your royal highness should worry about” you rolled your eyes at the bitterness in the words ‘your royal highness’ coming from Alastor.

“Just visiting some mobsters, we will be back soon, my lord” he frowned, but he smiled through his discomfort. “Can I go? Maybe I can be of assistance, no one would be stupid enough to cross me” He tugged at the lapels of his jacket with pride, winking at you with a sly smile, ‘Would it offend him if I say no because I want to command respect for being me?’ you thought.

You ended up feeling guilty for even thinking that, so you just caressed his cheek, “Maybe next time?” he nodded into your hand, then repeated “Next time”.

“Shall we, my dear?” Alastor’s voice behind you reminded you, “Right, don’t wait up, okay?” Lucifer took your hand before it leaved his skin, “Be safe” he kissed your knuckles, “We will, I promise” the little king enjoyed to no end the angry face Alastor made when he smiled into your hand during the small kiss.

Alastor didn’t moved around town in conventional ways on his day to day, but for that occasion he got a sweet deal on a red and black Model T Ford, to take you with style to the meeting. “Al, sweetie” At some moment you just couldn’t hold your laughter, “Yes chérie?” his prideful face made your laugh worse.

“I love the intention, but it’s a shit car” you felt the need to caress his arm, but given the early morning activities, you decided to give him some space. “No it’s not” he opened the door for you, as the lovely gentleman he is, “Sugar, even if they made the pieces down here, which they don’t, it’s a shit design, you got scammed” he made a few old timey showbiz laughs as he materialized inside the car.

“You forget I’m the Radio Demon” he put in the key, the engine sounded like a rooster with asthma, something must have gotten stuck between the spark plugs because the hood popped and smoke clouded the windshield.

“DON’T you say it” he warned, annoyed when he heard your mocking laughter, “I told you” he was not having it, “Want me to fix this?” he groaned. He saw you tinkering the engine for a few minutes, then come back inside the car. He tried the key one more time, when it ignited, the purr the car made was similar to a Lamborghini’s.

“I learned that in a convent” he was flabbergasted, “I even fought a nun; I was such a rebel, hit her with what I thought it was a crucifix, turned out to be a satanic church” he chuckled, not saying a word because he still couldn’t believe what just happened.

“Ha! Now that I remember, Lucifer would faint if he saw how they portrait him” you looked into the glove box finding a pair of sunglasses, “Boy you do not wanna know how high I flew out though a stained glass” you stopped talking seeing his eyes shining, “What?” he chuckled, “You keep on amazing me” how you blushed made his heart sing.

Standing on the sidewalk in front of the building, you were out of breath for a second. “Nervous?” Alastor took your hand, helping you to regain some composure, “Either that or my corset is too tight” that too, but mostly nervous. “Just breathe darling” easy for him to say, “I haven’t done anything like this in thirty years” he pulled on your hand, hugged your whole body with a good loving squeeze and a twirl. “You’ll be great darling, just be your adorably deadly self” if you had your soul you would feel it swoon, “Thank you for supporting me on this” after a little kiss on your cheek he hooked your arm with his heading for the door.

“I will be out here if you need me” You appreciated his gesture, it was clear that he believed in your abilities and your strength, but that he would be there for you if you needed backup. Well if that didn’t made you confident, nothing will.

“Miss Axe-man! Wha-what-” one mobster shark shook in his seat after you kicked the door open, “Tony Redstone, my name is Y/n Lionheart” The office, a long room with a table of the same length in the center, mobsters of every caliber you can imagine sitting along it. At the end, in a leather chair, a man, a big man with a mustache so Italian that it said mamma mía by itself.

“The Axe-man of Louisiana” some of the men whispered, air caught in their throats as they processed the facts. “I gotta say kid, you got some nerve to stand here today alone” the raspy voice of Tony made it to your seat at the other end, “You sure have some nerve to receive me without a single pint or jazz playin’” one mobster ran to the cd player, making sure Miles Davis played in the background.

“I thought the murderer was a well, a man” laughed one before your axe went swiftly though his head and back to your hand, “Let’s get down to business, why are ya’ here for?” he played no mind to his comrade’s death, it made you laugh a bit.

“Does James Alden ring a bell?” his name on your tongue was like acid, “How could I forget? Poor fucker sold his own daughter to pay off his debt, what about him?” the spell you put around you was growing weary, the one that hides the corruption away.

“This is more about the child” now that raised suspicion, “What did you do with her?” there was some laughs at the table, “What is it to ya’?” asked one, “You’re exhausting my patience” you whispered as the multiple man started to question your intentions and seriousness.

“Look, it’s none of your business whore, now get outta ‘ere” you took a deep breath, “This will be the last time I ask politely” you never bothered to sit down, however that was the moment you did, making the chair squeak against the floor as you dragged it back enough to sit, “What did you do with my daughter?”.

“Alden married the Axe-man? Lucky bastard” again with the whispering, you lost a nerve, threw the axe around again, killing two more, “What did you do with my daughter?”. “YOU CRAZY BITCH!” yelled the next one to die, “What did you do to her? She was innocent, just a babe!” your voice started to pick up some volume.

“I wanted to raise her as my own, but my wife, she drowned her in the river” Tony blatantly said, ever so calmly.

As the sounds of breaking bones, screams and violence escalated, Alastor put the newspaper he was reading aside, regretting having done so when he opened the door to the room.

A chimera, or at least it seemed like one, had its horns destroyed, the tail of a normal lion instead of a snake, and the goat that should have been the second head did not exist. The noise that the creature's hooves made as it destroyed everything inside the office made goosebumps into his skin.

When the bat wings moved, Alastor had a clear view of your completely red eyes, completely animalistic face, a lion in all your glory, your roar silenced the static of his shivers.

That was the monster that terrified both Louisiana and hell before his arrival.

“I tried to stop her, I swear to god” you stomped on Tony’s legs again, “I TOLD YOU, I TRIED!” he screamed, making you smile, “What kind of monster accepts children as payment? I HELD HER ONCE, ONCE!” one last roar that pulverized his whole body.

“Al…Alastor” your distorted voice address to him, “I’m right here” he managed to say without choking on his own voice. Your body decreased in size as you approached him, breaking one or another skull that was on the ground, “Let’s go”, he nodded, following you to the street.

Neither of you said anything in the 15 minutes since Alastor started the car, driving around the city without necessarily getting anywhere. With his gaze he examined your body but everything was so perfectly covered, he didn't know whether to ask you if you were hurt or if you needed something, or what was going through your mind.

So he decided to drive towards Cannibal Town.

You didn't argue with him, when he parked the car and opened the door for you, offering his arm at the same time, you took it and walked together through the town.

“Would you like to eat something dear?” you shook you head, “I’m losing my mind” “I know a place that serves the best venison in hell, maybe just a bite, you didn’t touched your breakfast this morning”

“I held her once, Alastor, I’ll never get that back” your eyes tung, briefly the tears rolled down your cheeks, "I thought I could get fixed, with this the last piece of my fucking puzzle, to maybe die with some peace, yo know?" He opened his mouth to ask what were you talking about, but you didn't let him.

"But I felt nothing, just anger and emptiness, my daughter didn’t even had a chance at life, how is she going to answer for herself in purgatory with three days of being born?!" You let his arm go, to hug yourself, "Or maybe they waited a bit before they drown her, who the fuck knows?" He noticed your knuckles had gone white and your claws were sinking into your arms.

"Why God? Why! She was innocent, at least give me a sign she's there with you" you yelled to the sky, your vision clouded with tears.

"Why, if I tie everything together? I have tasted every drug ever created, met all the celebrities I wanted, had my fill of every kind of demon in hell, and I'm still missing something!" In a moment your fist made it to a wall, making a big hole where your fist landed and lots of cracks.

"I will die and I'm still...looking for something I have no idea what is" broken sobbing mess, that's one way to put your mind in, with cannibals looking at you like you had gone insane and Alastor not knowing what to do.

He made himself appear in front of you, offering his hand to you. Looking up to his unreadable face, you took his hand.

You were going to die? He thought, that sentence alone took something alive that grew next to his heart and rip it apart, how? Why? Was it related to your deal to the princess? If yes could he ask the princess to change it? To make it void? What could drive you to kill yourself if it didn’t?

He continued walking, he attempted to go to the gardens, but then had a better idea.

The shadows surrounded you and Alastor, movement seemed to pass through you, but when everything stopped and your feet hit the ground again, you were deep into what it looked like a swamp.

Alastor's bayou.

"Alastor?" you called for him, his hand was still in yours, but he didn’t faced you. "Is it your choice, to end your life?" no answer, just a nod on your part, "Why?" in simple words, "I can’t bear the pain anymore" he finally put two and two together, "Is that why you didn't wanted to talk to me? To be alone with me?" he carried pain on the word alone, "I didn't wanted to hurt you, and as of this morning I went a little selfish there".

"Y/n" he didn’t knew what to say, how could someone How could he help a suicidal person, when he’s brings death to others? "I gave a lot of thought to find a reason to live, after a while it became senseless" he turned around to see you, "Well I don't mean to be that kind of person, but...how about me?" his free hand made your skin melt, "You don't know what you're asking for".

"Or maybe you underestimate my understanding" despite his adorable face, you had heard that before, "Here we go again, don't try to tell me that suddenly you love me or anything" your laugh only made him scoff.

"Would it be too hard to believe? I do not love you as a fact, I have never felt such a thing except for...my mother" hugging him was the perfect move after mentioning his mother, even knowing how much Alastor appreciates her, even in death.

"Nonetheless, I enjoy being with you, being under your culinary care all these time" not that he knew who cooked, but he always thought it was specially made, "You would eat nothing but rotten meat if I didn't" he lowered to your ear, "I also don't sleep much, so there were a few moments in which I saw you turning my radio studio off and place a blanket over my shoulders" the way he felt you tensed up made him laugh.

"I just… I care too much" he circled your waist, "And this morning, was that just caring too much?" he really needed an answer, as to not regret it. "I told you; I was selfish...I just wanted to feel-" he interrupted you, his breath hitting your lips, "Loved" you went forward, pecking his lips, "Like someone cared for...me".

His staff made a static noise, then music played, the melody brought you a longing feeling, of a time when you waited patiently for his segment at the radio.

“I'll never smile again, until I smile at you” he begin singing, “I'll never laugh again, what good would it do?” he twirled you around, your back then pulled against his chest, “For tears would fill my eyes, my heart would realize, that our romance is through” his voice had moments without his static, sending a thrill down your spine.

“I'll never feel again, I'm so in sync with you” you followed the next line, his cheeks blushing as you did, “I'll never thrill again, to somebody new” he sang, placing a kiss to your temple, “Within my heart, I know I will never start” he turned you around waltzing you around “To smile again, until I smile at you”.

“Within my heart, I know I will never start, to smile again” your voices harmonized, “Until I smile at you” he joined his forehead with yours, “Until I smile at you” then he kissed you, the music turning into soft jazz.

"I hope I laid my intentions properly" he whispered against your lips, "Are you still staying with the king?" Due to his aversion to contact, he didn't really mind you having the extra attention, what did sting his pride was if he tried to win you over.

"I made him a promise so, yes" he hummed, "Is that wrong?" he shook his head, "How about we see to lunch? We can go out or I can cook for you" his alluring tone made you want to strip him, "It's almost dinner time, we might as well cook something for everyone, don't you think?" cooking with you? His tail almost broke a hole into his pants due to all the wagging, "Unless you don't want to" he chuckled, "Lead the way" he placed a kiss on your neck, night on where he bit earlier.

"You're testing my respect for your boundaries sir" he looked at you almost innocently, "Am I? I haven't noticed" you hit him gently on his arm, "Whatever you say, radio love".

-----------------------

Part 9.

Stay tuned ;3

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whorekneecentral · 11 months

Note

hi, can i request “don't give me that look” + "i’ve never wanted to fuck anyone so badly in my life" with charles please? maybe with a childhood best friend reader? just something with a lot of mutual pining please!

banger of an idea // prompt: “don't give me that look” + "i’ve never wanted to fuck anyone so badly in my life"

"God, my feet fucking hurt," you grumbled, kicking off the heels as soon as you get through the front door.

You two were coming home from a night out, you were gonna head home and rejoin Charles for breakfast as his mums in the morning but he told you to just stay over instead, that way you two can sleep in a bit more.

"Borrow something from my closet," he tells you, walking off towards the kitchen.

Charles returned to the room a few minutes later, two glasses of water in hand. Your dress was tossed over the end of the bed as you searched through his closet. The man sat on the edge of the bed, watching as you tumbled through the neatly stacked clothes; he knew you long enough to know you leave chaos in the path of everything you touch.

The driver's eyes were fixed on you, something switched in him. You felt it too, a shift in the way he looked at you.

"Don't give me that look," you tell him, turning to face him after pulling a shirt off the shelf. Charles pulled his brows together, "what look?"

"Like you wanna fuck me," you laughed, walking towards the bed.

Charles hums, nodding. "It's true; I've never wanted to fuck anyone so badly in my life." He reaches for your hand, pulling you to sit on his lap.

You two have been in this situation so many times; will they, won't they and you never do but tonight.. tonight felt different.

"Yeah?" You looked at him, a hand tangled in the hair at the back of his head. Charles nods, "Yeah."

You smiled; "then what are you waiting for?"

That was all he needed to hear.

You lean into your friend, kissing him softly before moving to his cheek and down his jaw.

The red kiss marks trail down his neck to his collarbone before you scoot back on his lap and begin kissing down his chest. You follow the pattern of his freckles, leaving behind red marks all the way down to his hips.

Your hands slide between the two of you, undoing the belt on his pants, Charles lifts his hips and helps you slide them off. His eyes fixed on you, his chest dropping and raising with each breath.

You're back on his lap now, Charles pulling your - his shirt, up to bunch over your hips. You're kissing him again and he smiles against your lips, the red lipstick smudged all over his face and yours.

It’s hot, heated, and heavy.

Charles lets you sink down onto his cock. Both of you letting out a satisfied sigh, pushing his shirt from his shoulders and your nails dig into his pale skin.

The shirt drops behind him, the fabric bunching up behind him. Charles bucks his hips and your nails drop down from his shoulders to the scratches along his back. He lets out a groan, his face buried in the crook of his neck.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut

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mitsuyeaah · 11 months

Text

late nights, heavy weights.

— rindou haitani

cw: gym bro!rindou, fluff, shy reader, rindou being a supportive & flirty gym bro, gym jargon. spotting: when a person assists the weightlifter to make sure they do the exercise in a safe manner without any injuries. <3

a/n: i was at the gym earlier and i got this idea. have not written for mr rindou haitani in a while sooo here he is!

it was one o’clock in the morning, the cool air of the early morning engulfed your body as you made your way to the entrance of the gym—the door beeping as you placed your key tag against the reader. walking in, you were met with the quiet gym music playing in the background. the gym was mostly empty; no staff in sight, and maybe one or two people working out and minding their business.

you liked working out around this time to avoid the after work rush hour, plus, you could go on at your own pace with no one waiting on you to use the equipment next. after stretching your body, you headed to the open squat rack, ready to hit legs for today.

your workout was going well so far, you were able to steadily squat heavier weights while maintaining a good form and a straight bar path. you wanted to opt for a lifting belt after placing another plate on the barbell but noticed that you must’ve forgotten it back at home. mentally cursing yourself, you looked around around the almost empty gym to see if anyone had a spare belt you could borrow.

one woman was on the treadmill—no luck with that—while a man was on a weightlifting platform, doing deadlifts. his two toned hair was tied in a low ponytail, hues of blonde and baby blue securely wrapped in a hair tie. the man sported a black muscle tee and shorts but what caught your eye was his unused lifting belt on the floor next to his belongings.

mustering up the courage, you waltzed your way over to the man and gently tapped his exposed arm. damn, he had muscles. he turned around and took an earbud out, “yeah?” his chest heaved up and down from the exercise he was doing, sweat dripping down his temples while stray hair stuck to his skin. you smiled at him, “um, if you don’t mind.. can i borrow your belt for a sec? i’m just on my last set of squats and i forgot mine at home.”

the man nodded, making a gesture to you that it was okay to use his belt. you quickly thanked him but before you decided to head back to the squat rack, he introduced himself as rindou, and you introduced yourself as well. warmth bloomed in your chest at a possible new found friend at the gym.

it was pretty hard to make friends at the gym since everyone was caught up in their own little world, you didn’t really mind it but you just wished you had some friends at the gym.

“oh, uh, i know this is probably asking for a lot.. but would you be okay spotting me? i totally get it if you’re busy!” you asked rindou, suddenly feeling embarrassed at the sudden question.

but, your embarrassment quickly faded away as he nodded, saying that he just finished his last set of deadlifts and could spare you a little time.

securely wrapping the belt around your waist, you positioned yourself against the bar, taking a deep inhale. “i’m going to place my hands here, okay?” rindou came close behind you, his muscled chest near your back. he was polite. usually when other people spotted you for squats, they wouldn’t even ask you if you were okay with their hands being so close to your chest.

you nodded, making eye contact with him through the mirror. rindou’s hands made its way just underneath your chest where your ribs ended. you felt warmth creeping up your cheeks and to your ears while he did that, internally panicking that someone as handsome as him was kind enough to spot you.

“ready when you are.” you felt his hot breath fan over your nape but you shrugged it away and nodded at him through the mirror again.

lifting the bar off the rack, rindou’s hands gripped your torso tighter to steady you from the weight of the bar and the plates. you sucked in a deep breath before lowering yourself into a squat and powering up into a standing position. rindou moved with you, squatting down as well to assist the whole motion of the exercise—throughout the whole set, he showered you with encouragement and praises which helped get you through the exercise.

“alright, last one. up!” you braced yourself for the final lift, feeling his hands tighten around you, trying to lift you back up.

after successfully executing the whole set, rindou casually reached his arm around to your front to snap the lifting belt off so you could breathe properly. the act surprised you but it also made your stomach practically do somersaults.

“wow, you did so good! feels like you didn’t even need me there. you did it like a champ!” you shied away from his constant praises, shaking your head and waving your hands to deny it.

“no, no! you definitely helped a lot, rindou. thank you kindly spotting me.. and for that belt release.” you bit your lip after saying the last few words. you swore your heart raced faster but you blamed it on the pre-workout, no way the man you just met was already making you melt. rindou raised a brow, the corner of his lip tugging up, “yeah? i can gladly do it again for you after your sets. just ask me.”

your jaw almost dropped at that. you felt your knees almost buckle at his response, not expecting the man to be so casual and brazen about it. rindou blamed it on his pre-workout for being this bold; he usually wouldn’t even go as far as to make conversation but with you, it just came out naturally.

“i mean.. as long as you don’t mind, i guess.” you let out a small chuckle, trying to hide the fact that you were absolutely losing your mind. rindou was definitely trying to woo you and you had no complaints about it whatsoever.

rindou mirrored your chuckle, “i’m very glad we’re on the same page here. it looks like there is something else to look forward to when i go to the gym, huh.”

you blinked at him, not knowing how to respond at his advances. rindou thought you were cute trying to wrack your brain for a response, the way your lips parted but no words came out.

“..i-i guess so.. um, thank you for letting me use your belt!” you awkwardly removed the lifting belt from around your waist and handed it over to him. he chuckled at your awkwardness but nonetheless, taking his belt back.

“guess i’ll see you around then? call me over if you need anymore help with any of your exercises.. or other things, doesn’t have to be gym related.” you smiled at him, shyly rubbing your nape. “i definitely will.. for both of those reasons.”

the two of you exchanged a few more words before going to your respective workout stations. a wide smile plastered on both your’s and rindou’s faces as you two resumed your workouts.

you had one more reason as to why you loved working out very early in the morning—it started with the letter ‘r’ and hopefully ended in something much more.

#rindou haitani #rindou fluff #rindou drabble #rindou x y/n #rindou x reader #rindou x you #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers drabble #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x y/n #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers #tokrev x reader #tokrev x you #tokrev x y/n

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the-broken-pen · 5 months

Text

“We absolutely should not be doing this,” the hero whispered, but there wasn’t any heat to it. The other end of the line rustled as the villain laughed.

“There are a lot of things we shouldn’t be doing. Namely, I shouldn’t commit felonies, you shouldn’t talk to a felon…” their friend trailed off.

This time, the hero was the one who laughed. Outside, a bird began to chirp with the sunrise, and the villain sighed.

“Time distance.”

“Time distance,” the hero agreed, and by god if the miles weren’t a wound in itself.

“You should sleep,” the villain murmured. The hero hummed.

“Probably, yeah.”

Neither of them hung up.

“If I promise to call tomorrow, will you go to bed, please? For me?”

The hero sniffed, eyes heavy as the sun peeked through their blinds.

“Promise?”

“Pinkie.”

The hero slumped backwards. “I won’t hang up though.”

The villain laughed, softly, with an affection the hero didn’t want to think about.

“I’ll do the heavy lifting, once again,” but the hero knew they smiled as they said. The line clicked off.

—————————

“Hey, Sunshine. Committing nefarious acts of kindness and good deeds, I take it?”

“Hey,” the hero was breathless, hand pressed against their side. It came back bloody.

Any humor dropped from the villain’s voice in an instant.

“You’re hurt.”

The hero managed a pathetic laugh, flinching.

“Just a little.”

“It doesn’t sound like a little.”

The hero eyed their wound, swallowing.

“Absolutely just a little.”

“It’s a good thing you’re the kid of a hero, because love, you absolutely suck at lying.”

The hero tried to pretend something didn’t warm in their stomach at the endearment.

“I have…bandages. And antiseptic. And some good old natural dirt to rub into it if all else fails.”

The villain sighed on the other end of the line, and the hero knew they were rubbing their brow. For some reason, despite the pain, it made the hero grin.

“I’m fine,” they promised, and when the villain stayed silent, they said it again. “I’m fine.”

“If you die I’ll be mad at you.”

“Fairly certain that is the wrong sentiment for a villain to have towards a hero—“

“Has the bleeding stopped?”

The hero slapped some tape around the edge of the gauze, blood still dried around the edges.

“Yes.”

The relief was palpable.

“Good. Go to bed.”

“You’ll call again?”

“Promise.”

The hero smiled.

“Pinkie.”

The villain hung up.

—————————

“You wouldn’t happen to have a flamethrower I could borrow, do you?”

The hero blinked, holding the phone away from their face for a moment.

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh, don’t be, I just need one,” the villain snorted, and a loud crash sounded in the background.

“What on earth are you doing?” Concern rolled in the hero’s gut. The villain laughed.

“You’re going to want plausible deniability sunshine.”

“Right,” they paused. “But why a flamethrower?”

“It has flames, it throws them, what else could I ask for in an object?”

“I can throw flames.” Even though the villain couldn’t see it, the hero let a spark flicker on their finger tips.

“And again,” the villain’s voice lowered. “What more could I ask for?”

The hero didn’t have a response to that, but the villain somehow, like they always did, knew that.

“Any bruises I should know about?”

“And what would you do about them? You live on the other side of the country,” the hero teased.

“I can steal a fighter jet in less than half an hour.”

The hero blinked at the seriousness in the villain’s tone. They laughed, nervously.

“Please don’t do that.”

The villain sighed. “You ruin my fun.”

“I haven’t arrested you, so I think that should get me brownie points.”

“You live on the other side of the country,” the villain parroted.

“I could get there faster than a fighter jet,” the hero said. The villain snorted again.

“Will you—“

“Call again? Pinkie.”

The hero smiled. “Promise.”

The villain hung up.

—————————

The hero picked up the phone on the third ring, smiling.

“Hey trouble maker, what’s—”

All they got in response was a pained wheeze.

“Villain,” the hero said, gut plummeting. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” the villain bit out, breath short. “I’m okay.”

“You don’t sound okay.”

The villain gave something that was either a laugh or a sob.

“Mhm.”

“What’s going on,” their voice broke, and the villain fell silent.

“It’s going to be okay,” they murmured. And the hero knew.

Innately, in a painful, wretched way, they knew.

“My dad is there.”

Their dad, the superhero. Their dad, who had forbidden them from ever speaking.

Their dad, who wanted the villain, their villain, dead.

The villain made a quiet noise of ascent.

“I’m coming—”

“You won’t make it.”

The hero stilled.

“How bad is it?” Their hands were shaking. They couldn’t find their suit, why couldn’t they find their suit—

“Too fast for a fighter jet,” the villain tried, voice too light and wet with tears.

The hero slammed a drawer closer, throwing open the door to the basement, searching for something, anything.

“I can be faster,” they grit out, breathless. Their chest hurt.

“Not that fast.”

“Please,” the hero sobbed, and on the other end of the line, the villain did too.

“Don’t do this to me.”

“I don’t want to,” the villain swore. They coughed, and it was a deathly thing.

Something slammed in the background on the end of the line, and the hero’s fingers clenched around the phone.

“What was that?”

The villain let out a pained whine, phone crackling as they shifted away, before their voice came over the speaker again.

“I’ll call again tomorrow.”

The hero’s face was wet.

“Promise?”

The villain let out a small sob, but they still sounded like they were smiling, soft with affection.

“Pinkie.”

The hero didn’t mean to say what came next.

“I love you.”

The villain didn’t even pause, breath hitching. “I love you too.”

The line crackled.

“Sunshine, I need you to do something for me now,” the villain rasped, voice choked with pain and tears and love and fear. “I need you to hang up.”

The hero forgot how to breathe.

“No—”

“Please,” the villain took a sharp breath through their nose, and it sounded painful. “Just this once. I can’t do it this time.”

“Villain,” the hero began, but the villain cut them off as something crashed in the background once more.

It sounded like a building falling.

It sounded like the hero breaking, too.

“Sunshine,” the villain pleaded. “Just once. I’ll-I’ll call you back. I swear.”

They could both taste the lie.

The hero sniffed.

The villain sobbed.

And for the first time, the hero hung up.

The villain never called them back.

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lilac-5ky · 8 months

Text

Roommates from Hell, pt.8 (Toji x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 8: Nine to Five

Chapter 7 | Story Masterlist | Masterlist | Requests | AO3

A/N: Don't come at me for the ending :)

Warning: fem. masturbation, sex toys, and mentions of explicit sexual content, MDNI!

“Again, thanks for everything, Shiu. Can’t even imagine what we would’ve done without you. No money, no car—”

“Don’t worry about it.” A loud chortle rumbled against the man’s chest as heavy smoke wafted from the cigarette dangling between his teeth. “Wouldn’t pass up the chance to see this failed Casanova humiliate himself for the world.”

Your exchange was cut short as Toji forced his way into the apartment, mumbling curses under his breath. You hadn’t made sense of a word he’d said since he gave into your pleas for calling for help (No way in hell we are hijacking a car, Toji!), refusing to acknowledge his friend’s kindness in the same hopeless way he refused to acknowledge their friendship.

You wondered what it was like between them when you weren’t around to calm the spirits. Neither screamed “chatty” exactly, and pulling words out of their mouths was slightly less excruciating than plucking out a wisdom tooth with pliers. Aside from work, they seemed to have little in common. Shiu’s pride and joy was his extensive collection of tropical fish, while Toji only knew the grilled mackerel you served with his rice every morning.

“You should stop by for dinner sometime. I’m sure Toji would—”

“He wouldn’t.” A gruff voice rang from a distance that defied an ordinary human’s hearing range.

You experienced all the embarrassment that came with excusing a difficult child’s behavior. But Shiu was understanding. After all, he and Toji went back even longer than you did.

“Make sure that idiot’s ready at 8. And tell him this is borrowed, not kept.” You received the garment bag from his hands and gently folded it over your arm. “Pulled enough strings to land him that job. He screws up; he’s on his own.”

You nodded, your curiosity beating him to the elevator. “What kind of job is it?”

“Zen’in didn’t tell you?” Shiu shook his head in amusement. “‘course he didn’t.” He flicked the cigarette butt and stubbed it with his sole, therefore mocking the no smoking sign on the concrete wall behind him.

“Look, don’t want any part in your sappy love story, but cut him some slack. That prideful bastard wouldn’t bow that stubborn head of his ‘less it was chopped off its place—you know how he is—yet he practically begged me to find his ass something respectful.”

Begged…?

“Point is, you don’t get into those companies without a bunch of glorified parchment, and a hit list doesn’t count as CV. He’ll have to work his way outta the mail room. He soaks up experience, and maybe he cracks it to sales. Just make sure he actually goes. Pay’s good, perks even better. Feel free to start pumping out kids.”

“You wouldn’t know why he needed the job, right?”

A cryptic smile accompanied him into the lift. Without answering, he reached for the crumpled Lucky Strike pack in his jacket’s inner pocket and pressed the button to the garage. The only times you saw him without a cigarette was in the short interval between his switching from a burnt-out to a new one.

“Eight sharp. Not a minute later.” He warned as he leaned back against the railing, fumbling with an unresponsive lighter. “Fucking ‘ell.”

You held the bag to your chest, practiced a small bow, and sincerely thanked him for all those years he took good care of Toji.

“Dinner offer’s still on! I can do Korean—how’s dakgalbi with lots of cheese sound?”

“Can’t believe how hard that bastard lucked out.”

The doors began to close before you could make out what he said, the final rings of smoke dispersing with his departure.

A trail of misplaced dirty laundry welcomed you into the apartment; slippers flipped and sweatpants scattered, with black boxers strewn outside the bathroom door like a doormat. You scrutinized the dried precum stain on the latter with near scientific interest, not being in any real hurry to stow them away until the water flow that streamed from the shower head dramatically decreased.

Shit, shit, fuck!

Sprinting across the hall, you dunked the clothes into the basket in time for Toji’s grand entrance with nothing but a towel his thumb and forefinger kept clipped low around his hip. Steam rolled in spirals from each contoured muscle that adorned his scarred skin, a light red coloring him from head to toe.

“That jackass left?”

You tried to block out the sensual slink of his hips as he strode to your shared wardrobe, focusing instead on the countless smudges that dressed your mirror. Still in view, he fished out a clean pair of boxers—one that he had no qualms changing into, the curve of his ass distinct as the fuzzy towel pooled around his feet.

“He—um.” Droplets of water rained from long obsidian strands while he shook off the excess moisture, the reflection of his jade eyes narrowing at the lack of follow-up. “What did you ask again?”

The sweet and spicy notes of a deodorant that could only be new took you by surprise as Toji towered over you with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. “I asked, when did ya turn into such a perv?”

You deserved that.

“Like what you see?” His tone was more inquisitive than condescending, like your answer actually mattered to him.

Even after an entire night of touching each other, you doubted you could ever get used to being with someone whose body fit both the requirements of a marbled statue and an action movie star. You felt stupidly giddy, longing to squeeze your head between his pecs and lick him up like an overly affectionate pup who knew neither shame nor boundaries.

Admitting to it was a different thing.

“You should let me cut your hair.” You begrudgingly looked up. Not that his face didn’t bring out the same primal instincts. “People will think you descended from the mountains.”

“Didn’t ask about people. Only care about you.”

Fuck it.

“You turn me on.”

“Yeah?” His voice turned into a low purr, hooded eyes locked with yours up until your lips connected.

The pleasant warmth of his fingertips as they tipped your chin clashed with the cold, damp hair that tickled your cheeks. It went both ways. He showed you when he pushed your hands from the hard ridges of his stomach to the harder erection his underwear packed, firmly cupping your smaller palms against it.

“Wanna be inside you so badly.” Toji murmured, nipping at your bottom lip while you rubbed at his bulge, long strokes earning you little sighs of satisfaction. “Feel you wrap around me. The things I want to do to you—fuck.”

Wetness leaked from his slit, ruining yet another pair of underwear. He was so achingly sensitive, his balls twitching for the sweet release that would either quench or worsen his thirst.

Eight sharp. Not a minute later.

“You are gonna hate me.” Your palms traveled up his chest, mostly failing to put distance between your mouth and his, as he snaked his arms around your waist and pulled your bodies together.

“Could never hate you.”

“Never?”

His tongue broke free from the kiss. He didn’t like the sound of that. “What did ya do?”

“Nothing!” You reassured him with a nervous smile, pecking his lips. “It’s just—it’s 7:30, you know?”

“Good. And I thought the telemarketing watch I ordered was lost in the mail.”

“Shut up!” You chuckled. “Shiu said I should have you ready by 8.”

“Don’t give a damn what he said.” Toji went back to littering your skin with kisses, starting from your cheek and slowly expanding to your neck. He tugged your shirt off your shoulder with his teeth, sturdy hips bucking against your flimsy shorts. “I can do with twenty minutes. No foreplay.”

“Toji—”

“Fifteen minutes.” His palm squeezed around your breast, wet tongue flicking right behind your earlobe. “Just bend over f’me and I’ll take care of the rest. Fuck you full with my cum.”

“Oh my god, Toji.” Your breath stuttered in your throat, your panties clinging to your slit as if you’d been standing under rain.

“Yeah? You’d like that?” He mouthed at your neck, sucking at least three more marks you had no way of concealing unless you scarfed up. “Ready to see what ten years of wanting to pound that pussy feels like?”

He practically begged me to find his ass something respectful.

He screws up; he’s on his own.

“Toji…”

His affections ran out at the same time his mood spoiled, forehead resigning against your shoulder. He knew what his name in that tone meant, and he hated it—more than you hated yourself for denying him.

“Y’are fucking killing me,” was the last thing he said before hopping into your bed, springs creaking beneath his weight. “Tell him I ain’t goin’.”

Of course he hadn’t bothered drying off, and of course your sheets soaked up the water from his body like a sponge. He buried his head in your pillow and stretched his limbs across the mattress. No sound. No movement. Like a corpse washed to the shore. He did say you killed him.

Such a baby.

You padded toward the bed and took a seat beside him, running your fingers through his choppy hair. He didn’t react. Not at first. You assumed this was him being pouty, but then you recalled all he had to deal with in the last 48 hours and felt incredibly sorry for him. Heading to work without a wink of sleep was the final nail in the coffin.

“What are you doing?” Green eyes blinked behind a veil of black as you brought the towel to his nape and gently wrung the lower tufts.

“You’ll get a crick in the neck if you nap with water in your hair.”

“Not trynna convince me to go?”

“Why would I? You said you’re not going and that’s it.”

Toji sat up against the headboard, the look on his face one of disbelief.

“I’m happy supporting you.” The bed dipped as you resumed your handiwork, brushing a strand away from his creased forehead. “It’s like having my very own kept man. Makes me feel rich.” You smiled.

He didn’t return it. But he did sigh. “We need money. Y’always whine about that.”

“You won’t hear me whine again. Besides, my schedule is too light. I can always ask that old man for a few extra shifts.” That was a lie. You bordered on exceeding the legal limit of working hours per week.

“And you’re fine with that.” He stated rather than asked, and when you didn’t reply, he simply rolled to the other side of the bed. “Fucking liar.”

“What happened to you not hating me?”

“I don’t. My balls do. They wanna smack your pussy.”

“You’re so damn vulgar!”

You still giggled as you nestled in the little pillow space he’d left, arm draped over his waist and fingers finding purchase somewhere between his abs. You kissed down his shoulders, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply into the scent laced through the pores of his skin. He’d gone a bit overboard with the quantity, but that wasn’t unheard of from someone who only used fragrance-free toiletries.

Still, it suited him.

“Said the tease.” He contemplated peeling your hand off him but decided against it when he felt you moving lower. Way lower than he thought you would without his guidance.

“Who said I’m teasing?” Your fingers dipped into the waistband of his underwear, feeling out the smoothness of skin and the coarseness of hair above the sole unexplored part of his body. “I want you, Toji. Not what you bring or don’t bring to the table. Just you. God, you’d probably laugh your ass off if you knew how much I actually want you.”

Tears prickled your eyes, swelling as emotion in your heart. Being this sincere scared you, especially with how rapidly your relationship was escalating. Ten years was a long time, and two days felt awfully short to recuperate all that was lost—to shake the image of his footprints slowly fading into snow eight years ago.

A hand closed around yours, thick fingers delicately squeezing between your knuckles, wary of the fresh nicks they donned. “I wouldn’t.”

“How can you be so sure?” Your voice a frail whisper made of glass. “I mean—”

“Because I want you more, dummy.”

“Didn’t realize this was a competition.”

“It is now.” Toji pulled your hand away from his body and pinned it to the mattress, his other arm crossing over your shoulders as he gently rolled you below him. “And I won.”

He gazed down at your face, all flustered with glassy eyes that fluctuated between overwhelming lust and unspoken worry. You think too much. You worry too much. You feel too much. He wanted to accuse you of every single one of those crimes but couldn’t find the words to do so, because he liked that about you.

He liked how your hands trembled with need when they touched him, how your voice broke like it couldn’t bear the weight of its words, how vulnerable and small you looked in his arms—but most of all, he liked what you breathed into him, what your puny fingers sculpted his soul into. Because he only ever liked himself when he was with you, and that was exactly why he wanted to offer you more than a tattered old shirt with rips around the seams.

“How much time?”

“Huh?” You gaped.

His scar twisted into a smirk as he lowered his face to yours—a crooked grin once you closed your eyes and puckered your lips in expectancy of his. So much more. He pressed down against your mouth, tugging at your bottom lip until his thumb slipped in and you gave his nail a firm, albeit painless, bite.

“Better not do that when my dick goes in there.” He tsked.

Immediately, you coughed out his finger along with an aggravated “Toji!”

“There she is,” the man in question chuckled. “Nearly had me fooled.”

You scoffed, part of you grateful that the tension between you was resolved, but not the part that showed. “If you must know, I spoke from my heart’s depths.” Your fist moved to your beating chest.

“Mhm, bet ya did.” Toji helped himself to a kiss, chaste enough for his tongue to remain in his mouth. “Sly wench.”

“Wench?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Prefer bitch?” He retorted.

“Wench is fine.”

The way his shoulder blades rolled while he was hunched above you had you sidetracking from the clock that ticked away your time. You figured he’d be an excellent salesman—supposing he made it to that point—because you were sold on staying there with him, spinning your entrapment by his bulky physique into the perfect excuse to play hooky. Sakurai would understand. Hopefully.

“Five. Lemme hold you for five minutes, and then y’are free to frill me up.”

You were the one who was now “killed,” and yet you accepted your death with grace as your positions were switched. Toji collapsed beside you, squeezing your clothed breasts against his naked chest (remorse for not ridding you of your shirt first) while you huddled together, legs tangled, and mouths inched too close not to meld into one.

For someone who claimed to do only what he wanted to, he succumbed to your will an awful lot.

“What’d you want a sly wench for?” You muttered, playing with the hair that hung low over his neck. “Regular wenches out of stock or something?”

“That eager to find out?” He drawled, both his voice and eyelids weighed down by exhaust. “I’ll show ya when I get back from work; everything a sly wench’s good for.”

“Sounds like quite the ordeal.”

“You’re a big girl. ‘m sure you can take it, and if not—well,” he ran his tongue along your lips. “No reason to talk about what ifs. You’ll be good for me, mm?”

“Depends on whether you actually put on the suit Shiu brought.”

“Women and your suits.”

“You said—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know what I said.” Toji scoffed, one of his hands sneaking under your shirt. “You’ll make it up to me.” He decided.

“I told you, you can just not go.” You objected.

“Oh, really? And ya would’ve let me stay home without breaking my balls?” He let a beat pass and added, “Thought so.”

“What would thine royal ass favor?” You humored him with a fake, posh accent.

“I’m easy to please.” You held back a snort. “You’re gonna lemme doll you up with however many or few clothes I want. Fair?”

“Is that all? Doesn’t sound too bad—”

“And then,” he continued, his smirk as sharp as the teeth behind it, “you’ll lemme strip ya. Nice and simple, huh?”

“Your five minutes are running out!”

While Toji was off brawling with a pair of cufflinks, you relocated to the kitchen and brewed two cups of coffee, figuring he could do with a sip before heading out.

A pink sticky note awaited you on the counter, your sister’s messy handwriting begging you to call her as soon as your windpipe reopened—whatever that was supposed to mean. You crumpled it and tossed it in the trash, resuming your coffee-making duties. She wanted details you had no intention of discussing, especially when you didn’t even know what to call him anymore. You felt like no word was descriptive enough of your current status.

“Whatcha thinking about?” A hand snatched the spare cup from your grasp, scarred lips rounding around the searing rim.

You turned around to a Toji you’d never seen before. Surely, his thin eyebrows were drawn together in the exact same scowl he wore when you first showed him the black slim-fit suit of Shiu’s choice. His hair was still damp, sticking to his forehead in wet tufts. The rest of his body was also physically there, boxed inside the narrow lapels and shoulder bite of his jacket—but that was where the similarities ended.

The difference between the Toji you left in your bedroom a mere ten minutes ago and the sharply dressed man in front of you was that you didn’t feel the need to pay a ticket simply for the honor of staring at the former.

“Just admiring how handsome you look.” You straightened out the creases on his lapels.

“Yeah right.” Toji rolled his eyes, continuing to swig coffee. “Just saying that to get into my pants.”

“Please, if I wanted to get into your pants, all I’d have to do is ask.” You wiped his chin before the liquid got to drip down his collar, sparing him an earful.

“At this point, you wouldn’t need to ask.” He glanced down at his suffocating thighs, the seams around his crotch threatening to burst at any given time. “This is ridiculous.”

“No, it’s not—”

“Looks like I’m in a damn sausage casing. ‘s too fucking small.”

“You’re just too big.” You smiled sympathetically, not realizing your blunder until that sly smirk you knew and hated (loved) made its reappearance. Oh no.

“Mm, am I?” Toji cooed, his smug tone making your fingers grab at the counter behind your back. “Even for you?”

You bit your lips into a straight line, your eyes following the hand that slotted a blue striped tie in your fist and ordered you to get it over with. He took a step back, allowing you to remove his jacket and loop the fabric once around his collar. That was pretty much the full extent of your tie-tying knowledge.

“Gonna keep staring at it?” He cracked under the pressure of your intense squinting.

“I… don’t know how to do it.” You admitted.

“Didn’t your dad wear one to work?”

“Didn’t yours?” An immediate glare. “Never mind. Forgot the Zen’ins are stuck in Edo period.”

He had nothing to say. The times when he sauntered around his family’s compound in that gloomy garb weren’t as far behind for him to forget they ever happened.

You carefully folded the tie in half and handed it to him. “Just ask Shiu to show you. But here, lemme—”

You fixed whatever minor detail could be fixed, combing his hair with your fingers, plucking out a couple of loose threads, and securing his cufflinks. He didn’t need the jacket. As long as no one gawked at his crotch, he passed as your average overworked thirty-year-old who’s yet to give up on their early retirement dream.

It was 7:58 when you and Toji argued over the few footwear choices in his possession. He settled for the combat boots he sported mostly during the winter, but scoffed once you reminded him you’d have to go shopping in the following days.

It was 7:59 when he lingered about the door frame like a harbinger of bad news who didn’t know how to break them down, eventually lifting a hand and giving your head a rough pat that suited a Pomeranian more than an actual human.

“Don’t miss me too much,” which in his language meant I’ll miss you.

“Remember Home Alone?” He nodded. Then he realized.

“Brat.” And with that, he hurried down the hallway, cussing at himself when his cellphone began ringing before he’d even caught the lift.

Your smile remained on your face as you closed the door and spotted the tie he’d accidentally left beside his mug.

I’ll miss you more.

You underestimated how much you would actually miss him.

Your first day apart was spent with you plugging every drain hole in the house. Toji might’ve told you to forget the incident ever happened, but even a regular centipede was capable of reducing you to tears. Curse or not, you weren’t prepared to confront another of those critters, and if peace of mind came at the cheap price of plastic, then so be it.

You didn’t have the chance to miss him yet.

At work, you kept staring at his vacant booth, wondering whether his workplace had a kitchen or a cafeteria—whether he had enough cash for a meal—and every time you did, you scolded yourself. He was a grown man. He could take care of himself without you babying him.

But you still hoped he’d call.

“You won’t believe what that new girl Noda did today.”

You made it home a little after sundown, Chinese takeout under one armpit and handbag under the other. “You’re gonna love this!” Chuckling, you kicked the door shut and stalked toward the kitchen, dropping both bags on the table with a labored huff. “Three words: vampire repellent fries. How someone mistakes garlic powder for salt is beyond me.”

No response. Weird.

You laid out the containers before casting a glance at the ongoing football match on your TV. A reel played between the first and second halves—mass hysteria from the crows that celebrated over their team’s scoring as opposed to the apathetic mop of tousled black hair that was spilled over your couch, expressing neither cheer nor jeer. Not even his usual grunt of acknowledgment.

“Did you not hear me? I said—”

Your eyes finally caught up with your mouth as you processed Toji’s sleeping form, his dress shirt unbuttoned and dangling from his slacks, with a belt unbuckled but not quite removed.

“To…ji?”

Again, nothing.

So much for a night of passion.

Rather than eating alone in the kitchen, you brought dinner to the couch and sat down beside him, secretly wishing the rich scent of Sichuan pork revived him. You switched to an overplayed romcom that’d otherwise have him barfing, only to find his content expression far more enticing than whatever vow the main couple exchanged.

When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.

You watched over him as he stirred enough for his head to climb up your lap, a large palm engulfing your hip while he breathed in the bare skin of your thighs. More than once, you thought he was awake and tried to ask him about his day, but a snore was all you got in return, the quiet symphony eventually lulling you to sleep.

The rest of your life started when you met him.

Toji was already gone by the time you woke up, miraculously tucked under the covers of your bed, without an actual clue as to how you ended up there. The food you’d stashed in the fridge was gone with him, and so were your hopes of catching up over breakfast.

Your day was a reprise of the previous one. You drank coffee—alone. You did laundry—alone. You trapped a spider and carried it outside the window—alone. And then you met with your landlady—again, alone.

The house felt empty without his brooding figure leaning over the fridge to hurry you up; without his raspy voice calling you from across the house to fetch him the remote that lay on the coffee table; without his low whistles whenever you bent over to catch something from the bottom drawer. Things that once annoyed you, you’d started to miss.

On impulse, you drew your phone and began typing a message you deleted. He was finally acting responsible, and there you were, all butthurt because you didn’t get to talk to him for one day. Big deal.

You packed your bag and braced yourself for a torturous nine-hour shift at the diner, hanging onto the frail hope that once you closed shop, you’d be free to run to him.

Every kiss, every touch, every hug—every single moment of affection became a gale you rode on, reaching the apartment with your heart in your mouth. Surely enough, his shoes were parked by the front step. A good sign. The dubious smell of charred meat bubbling in a cauldron on the stove—not so much.

Hesitant to analyze the green broth’s origin, you searched for the dish’s chef in the other rooms, finding his remains splayed on your bed. Eyes shut, rumbling snore, and a tight grip around your pillow. The sight tugged at your heartstrings, convincing you that it was best to let him rest it out. You took off your clothes and squeezed in beside him, sleep not coming to you as easily as it did the night before.

You missed your conversations. The snarky remarks he’d have about his colleagues. The glint in his eyes that signaled his attentiveness, regardless of his snorting at everything he thought dumb. His bottled laughter. The suggestion in his tone. You’d never told him, but his voice was your favorite thing about him, and now you missed that too.

“Hope your dreams are worth it,” you mumbled against his shoulder, enveloping yourself in the warmth of his body even when you knew you’d wake up to a fistful of cold sheets.

That night, you missed him the most when he was right there with you.

“Not so fast, mister.”

If the sound of your voice wasn’t enough to stop Toji in his tracks, the Glock 22 aimed at his skull certainly was. He stepped away from the door, hands up in mock surrender, as a smirk carried him to where you stood in the middle of the living room, looking not-so intimidating in the pistachio-colored sleepshirt you’d hastily draped over your body.

“Where did ya find this?” He asked, his voice still groggy from sleep.

“I know you keep a gun taped under the nightstand.” You smiled, planting your fingers away from the trigger. “Busted.”

“Then y’know it ain’t loaded, right?”

“Really?” You thought you could tell by shaking it near your ear, only for Toji to leap forward and clasp your palms between his, directing the muzzle to the ceiling in the blink of an eye. “Thought you said it wasn’t loaded!”

“Hmm, let’s see.” The magazine popped out, empty except for a bullet he stowed in his pocket. “Won’t you look at that!” To your amazement (and horror), he reassembled the gun with a single move and returned it to you, defending himself with a “Shouldn’t trust a word outta your opponent’s mouth.”

“Art of war?” You pinched the grip and hurled it onto the couch. Sometimes you really questioned your decisions.

“More like, quit meddling with stuff you can’t handle. Although, if you threw some handcuffs into the mix,” he walked closer, pulling you onto him by the waist, “I could get behind this.” He kissed your lips and gave your ass a squeeze. “And that. Definitely that.”

Your fingers met behind his neck, heart fluttering in your chest. He smelled so nice. Just the right amount of intoxicating. “You’re all talk.”

“Missed me?” You nodded, unwilling to phrase those words out loud. “Then what’d ya want that gun for? Thought we got a lot friendlier these days.”

“Are we still friends?”

“Why?” His thumb brushed against your cheek. “Any plans to unfriend me?”

“Friends don’t do the things we do.”

“Really good friends do.” Toji insisted, his tongue slipping between your lips as if it never left—as if the past two days didn’t happen.

“Want more?” He tugged at your lip with his teeth. You weren’t sure whether he referred to kissing or something else, but whatever he offered, you wanted more of. “Me too.”

His cheek pressed against yours, burning with the same kind of fever you felt pooling in your stomach. You stayed like that for a good while, basking in the intimacy of an inconvenient hug until you felt bold enough to interrupt it. “If you ever avoid your girlfriend again, she’ll kill you.”

He huffed in your ear, then drew away after piecing a loose strand behind it. “My girlfriend can’t even use a gun.”

“Say it again.”

A grin.

“What part?” He asked coyly.

“You know what part!”

“Can’t even use a gun?” He sneered, holding your wrists as they tried to bat his chest. Your reddened complexion only added to his amusement. “Like being told you’re my girl?”

You didn’t answer him—a bad decision, really. It gave him the freedom to run his mouth on about how there were more things he could call you and a couple of other things you could moan back, sparing the details for the sake of the rising boner in his pants. While the premise excited you, the past two failures were hard to forget.

“And for the record, I wasn’t avoiding you.” Toji peered into your mind. A hand rubbed at the back of his neck, his dress shirt lifting from his slacks. “That place’s hell.”

“That bad? Is it the people, the job itself, or…?”

“Fucking everything.”

You could practically hear a can of worms cracking open; see the litany of complaints unfolding over your feet.

“Getting paid to spit on papers like a damn dog. My ass going sore from being glued to a chair all day long. Food tasting like coal briquettes. Dumb kids trynna strike a conversation every chance they get.”

“You poor thing!” You gasped dramatically. “Don’t tell me they also smile at you!”

His glare betrayed him. “Place’s like a fucking kindergarten.”

“Better zip your dirty mouth in front of the kids, then.”

He frowned, and you laughed, genuinely happy that his coworkers seemed to welcome him—a sight you decided you wanted to see with your own two eyes sooner rather than later.

“I won’t be late.” Toji promised once you’d escorted him to the front door.

Your arms folded in front of your chest. Eyebrows arched. “Right.”

“I mean it.”

“Sure you do.”

A sigh. Poking fun at him was always so much fun.

“What about you?” He abided by his little ritual of leaning against the frame, his stance mirroring yours. Unhurriedly since he’d gotten an early headstart on his day. “‘Today’s your day off.”

That’s a first, you thought. He never asked about your plans.

“Oh, you know me. Pilates at 9; golf course at 12. Might go yachting around 5 if you don’t come back early.” You quipped.

He rolled his eyes. “Stop fucking around.”

You poked his tongue at him, not wanting to admit that today would be ten times lonelier without a distraction, similarly to how you didn’t to spoil the surprise in the making.

Except your expression revealed something that your mouth didn’t.

Turning away from you, Toji began coughing like a cat with hair clogged in its throat, eventually spitting out a round, hairy lump of purple. Disgust was written in every line of your face, fading into recognition once the ball expanded into Wormie. The creature tried to wrap itself around its master, who seemed to have a better idea by offering it to you.

“Here. So you don’t die of boredom.” He explained.

You were skeptical at first, but Wormie robbed you of all options as he skipped to your arms and snuggled his head in the crook of your neck.

You never thought the day would come when you’d be hugging a worm, but the feeling wasn’t half as vile as one might expect. He had the weight of a feather and the scent of whatever bowl of cereal Toji had downed that morning. If you closed your eyes, you could think of him as a giant (exotic) pet.

“Hey there, little guy. Missed me?” You rubbed his back. Or what you thought was his back, anyway.

“Pretty sure he’s just trynna eat you up.”

“Shut up.” You glanced at Wormie’s mouth, just in case. “You’re simply jealous of what we have.”

“Sure.”

Satisfied with the image he left behind, Toji finally opened the door and walked out of the apartment.

“Don’t let that idiot get into trouble.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

“And I wasn’t talking to you.” He smirked. “Later.”

A moment passed before his comment registered, long enough for the elevator gates to separate his snickering from your dissonant complaints.

“You’re such a lousy boyfriend!”

In the hours that followed, two things became apparent. One, you’d probably make for a decent parent, because when you instructed Wormie to sit quiet on the counter while you cooked a meal for Toji, he did as told without protest, and two, he was the greatest sous chef you could’ve ever asked for.

“Wormie! Pitch me the ladle,” you’d say, and a second later the item would fall in your hands.

Not just that. You could cut away vegetables without walking to the trash whenever the counter became clogged with scraps. Wormie ate up everything you fed him, whether that was onion peels, lettuce butts, or a spoonful of the stewed beef that had him singing toot after toot like a trombone.

Toji was right. It wasn’t as lonely with Wormie around. But he was dead wrong about his pet only obeying him. The second you wiggled those leeks, the little glut switched loyalties.

You wondered whether you could train him to give paw.

Stacking a bunch of Toji’s favorite side dishes inside a lunch box, you phoned the one person who could give you an address. Shiu picked up right away, his tone lax as he accused you guys of having his number on speed dial. You profusely apologized and carried his words to a piece of paper, renewing his dinner invitation with little to no zeal. You were grateful toward Shiu, but all you looked forward to was a weekend alone with Toji.

You hung up the phone and turned to Wormie, gesturing for him to gobble up the tupperware.

“Let’s go see your dad, mm?”

Toji’s workplace turned out to be an impressive thirty-story building on the outskirts of Minato. It belonged to one of the largest telecommunication companies in the country, with an enormous silver plate that bared its three-lettered logotype. Shiu did claim he pulled some strings, but a lobby big enough to double as a landing zone was not what you expected.

The guards at the entrance welcomed you with a curt bow, seemingly undisturbed by the worm that hitched a ride on your shoulders. You remembered what Toji said. The vast majority were incapable of sensing cursed energy around them, and those who did would rather question their sanity than accept the notion that the folktales their grandmothers fed them were real.

You gave Toji’s name to one of the girls at the front desk, who in turn asked her colleagues, but none of them seemed to know him. You weren’t surprised. Thousands of people paraded through these doors on a daily basis, their only accomplishment being the white collars around their necks. You either made it big or died as a nameless corporate slave. Neither celebrated nor remembered.

The receptionist did, however, point you to your destination and provide you with a visitor card. You followed her directions to the elevator, barely finding a spot for yourself in the crammed space that, little by little, cleared up. Your reflection stared back at you—inaccurate, as Worm was nowhere to be found, despite shrieking your ear off a minute ago when you accidentally prodded his tail.

This doesn’t make any sense.

You navigated the maze of cubicle offices before reaching the mail room at the end of the fourth floor. Most employees ignored your presence, while some straight-up shot daggers at you like you were an intruder. You failed to notice the sickeningly amiable smiles Toji described until you saw him surrounded by a bunch of high-heeled man-eaters who vied for his attention.

He was making copies for each of those women, taking away their excuse to loiter around the copy machine and stomping on their confidence with one-worded replies. The less dedicated ones sorted themselves out, while the true contenders stayed back to help him with his workload.

You wished you could get closer and enjoy the show, but you didn’t want to interrupt. Instead, you knelt by an empty desk and placed Wormie on the ground, ushering him in Toji’s direction.

“Make sure he gets it, and I’ll fight for your rights!” You spoke in a hushed voice. “Good boy, Wormie. Now go!”

Certain of your partner’s success, you dashed to the elevator, leaving both him and the company grounds behind for good.

It never occurred to you how much time you spent with Toji since he moved in. And it never occurred to you how long it’d been since you’d last touched yourself either—not until you were lying naked in bed, legs arched and hands stuffed between your thighs, guiding the rabbit vibrator in and out of your sopping cunt while you panted out his name in broken moans.

The hows and whys were unclear. All you remembered was stripping so you could change into a comfier fit, and the next thing you knew, your toy was calling out to you from its hiding spot, fully charged despite its extended period of inertia. You didn’t dare use it when Toji was home—and he was always home. His keen senses trained on you, slashing through every illusion of privacy your bedroom’s paper-thin walls provided.

But he wasn’t there now. And he wouldn’t be there for hours to come. And he looked so damn sexy in his suit, that all you could think about was ripping it off.

“F-fuck, Toji.” You turned the ears speed up a notch.

Each little buzz circulated through your body as tingles of pleasure that enhanced the fantasies your mind crafted. You pictured him leaning over you, wearing nothing but the tie he’d finally mastered. The cocky smile that’d stretch wide on his lips as he’d part your knees with big, veiny arms and stick a thick finger in your pulsing hole, asking you whether that was all for him even when he knew it could only be his—you were only his. He’d ask you to say it out loud; have you repeat it countless times while drilling his cock into your pussy, discovering depths that neither your fingers nor the silicone were capable of.

He’d suggested he was big. God, you’d gotten so close to seeing for yourself. You wanted to touch it, lick it, kiss, bounce on it so many times that the room began to spin around you. Even if it was big, you’d make it fit. Even if it was too big, you’d let him split you open.

Your eyes squeezed shut as you thrust the bunny upward, trapping your clit between the little ears that flicked rabidly in sync.

You needed him to fill you up. You needed to somehow justify all those years of starvation for him, his body, and his cum—you needed to feel it running down your trembling thighs, hot and sticky, as you milked every drop he had to offer.

The tension in your guts finally snapped as you focused on the three little words you longed to hear the most. You didn’t care whether he whispered, moaned, or grunted them out. You wanted to hear them in his voice at least once in your life. You needed him to be yours just as you were his—to love you like you loved him too.

The sweat on your forehead barely had the chance to cool down, when your eyes opened to a sight far more palpable than your crumbling high.

“Is this what ya do when I’m not around?”

A/N: next chapter will have smut, i'm not that ruthless.

177 notes · View notes

bearhugsandshrugs · 3 months

Text

A Golden Opportunity

This was incredibly fun to do – a fic-art collab with @littleplasticrat! She had the idea of giving Gortash a strap-on that goes onto his own cock and I had the pleasure of writing a fic along to it. Please check out her full art and if you like, read the fic below!

Gortash x Tav | Explicit | 4.4k words Read on AO3 See @littleplasticrat's amazing art that accompanies this piece here

Tav was only there to drop off some books she had borrowed. Gortash’s office sat empty and abandoned, which was weird, considering he’d told her he’d be in after dinner, and it was already past 10pm. He usually worked late, and she had looked forward to the short, casual exchange they had whenever they ran into each other.

Not tonight, however. It was the first time she’d been to his office by herself, and she took advantage of the fact that no one was around, snooping leisurely through his things. On the table sat a cup of cold coffee, on the far off side was a glass display that seemed to be new, and the rest of the walls were covered with shelves of books, folders, and closed drawers, as well as one large display that held a variety of metalworking tools.

There were a few sketches on the desk that caught her eye, most of them some sort of crossbow design. Tav flipped through them, not bothering to even try to understand what they were. But then, she saw it: A page full of dicks.

No. Not dicks. A page full of sketches of some sort of strap-on, attached to a dick, with instructions on how to use it and how to fuck with it. And then… in the upper left corner… Her face, half-drawn.

What the fuck?

She looked around the office, almost as if to see if Gortash would jump out of hiding now, pranking her, but she was met with the continued quiet atmosphere of the room. If this was real, surely it was around here somewhere? His crossbows sat on a side table, half taken apart and tinkered with. So… where would he keep a… strap-on?

The glass display, she suddenly thought. That’s definitely the kind of ridiculous place he'd put something like this.

Tav almost sprinted over to the case, a sly grin on her face. There it was, in all its glory: golden and with intricate adornments, dark leather straps attached. She giggled, disbelieving that he’d actually put it here, on display, for everyone to see. Or, well. For her to see. There weren’t a whole lot of other people who were allowed into his office.

She tried lifting the lid, but it was secured with a lock, and she rolled her eyes. Who would try to steal… this?

Well. She would.

Picking the lock didn’t take long, and she took the strap-on out of the case in no time, weighing it in her hands. It was massive, fitted to the shape of a cock –

Wait.

Did that mean it was tailored to Gortash’s–

“Like how it feels?” Gortash leaned against the doorframe, smirking.

“Did you have this made to fit your cock?!” Tav asked brazenly, ignoring his tease. She looked back at the thing in her hands, and she heard him cross the room, his heavy boots pounding on the floor.

“Of course”, he said flatly, taking it out of her grasp, “I’m not going to wear it and be uncomfortable.”

Tav chuckled. “How did that work? You went to a blacksmith and let him take a mold of your–”

He held her gaze, slowly raising an eyebrow when she didn’t finish her sentence. “Yes, dear?”

“Did you?”

He stifled a laugh and rolled his eyes, sitting down in front of his desk. “Was there anything else you needed? Maybe the key to the treasury?”

Tav strolled over to him. She hadn’t been done inspecting the strap-on, and she found the whole thing hilarious. Snatching it back out of his hands, she leaned against the table, then wetted her lips.

“Oh. Those are some nice veins.” There was no way he had this fitted to himself. The notion was too absurd.

“Thank you”, Gortash nodded, completely unfazed. “Though you could always inspect the original, if you wanted to.”

Her mouth fell open before she caught herself, her cheeks burning with heat. “Actually I think I’m gonna go.”

Setting the strap-on down on his desk, she turned away, but couldn’t get far when his hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her back, sending her stumbling into his lap.

“This is completely inappropriate”, Tav scoffed, trying to wrestle her wrist out of his tight grip, but he just chuckled.

“Dear, you went through my things”, he nodded towards the sketch that had started it all and that she thoughtlessly hadn’t cared to sort back into the pile, “broke into my property, and nearly stole my prototype.” His voice was low but there was amusement mixed into it.

“Well you drew my face next to the strap-on design. Of course I wanted to see what kind of fuckery you were up to.”

“Oh, I can show you exactly what fuckery I had in mind for this.” He smirked, and Tav rolled her eyes, cursing herself for basically handing him that one on a silver platter.

Under her ass, his thigh was warm and steady, and her hip pressed into his stomach, forcing her face so close to his she could hear him breathe.

“Besides”, he murmured, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, “you have a lovely face. What can I say?”

“You have a dirty mind”, Tav forced herself to reply, but her voice cracked midway through.

Gortash chuckled. “Oh, dear. You have no idea.”

They stared into each other’s eyes, and for a second Tav considered kissing him, but banished the thought before it could take hold. This was all so sudden.

“I held your strap-on in my hands and could feel the outline of your veins, I think I have a pretty good idea of how dirty your mind is”, she scoffed, pulling back slightly to create some space. He still held her down by her wrist, his other hand trailing upwards to her ass, and he smiled wickedly.

“I’d have to prep you first”, he murmured, dragging his gaze across her chest down between her legs. “Get you all wet, and whimpering, and stretched…”

His hand found her ass and gave it a squeeze, and Tav drew a sharp breath in, surprised by his audacity. And the fact that she didn’t mind nearly as much as she thought she would.

His hand was strong, and big, and she immediately wondered if the strap-on actually fit his cock, or if he was winding her up in some sort of weird joke.

“I think you should put it on”, she suddenly blurted out, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

“Well, uhm.” Tav hadn’t thought this through. “You can put it on over your underwear. Show me that it fits.”

“I’d have to be hard for that”, he said with narrowed eyes, then smirked. “Not that that would be a problem.” He made sure she saw how he looked down at the massive bulge in his pants, and Tav swallowed instinctively at the sight. Her mind wandered off, wondering how he’d feel inside her. Wondering how wide he could stretch her with his strap-on on, and how long it would take him to make her come.

Pain pulled her out of her thoughts, with Gortash’s fingers twisting her right nipple through her shirt. Tav gasped, shocked by both the action itself and the way her clit twitched with need in response.

She slapped him with her free hand, set the strap on down on the desk, and pushed herself off of him, batting his hands away.

“I came to drop off some books”, she straightened up, turning to leave, “enjoy.”

“Or… you could stay and get the best fuck of your life”, Gortash’s voice rang across the room.

Tav hovered in place for a moment, biting her lip. Fuck, she knew she was wet, and she wanted him, but this was all so completely inappropriate and… wrong?

She hadn’t even heard him walk up behind her when she felt his warm breath on her neck. When she didn’t move, he brought his mouth down to her skin, starting to suck gently, then more and more forcefully until she whimpered. His hands trailed over her stomach down to her hips, pulling her shirt out of her pants and sliding underneath back up to her breasts.

“A good decision”, he hummed, rolling her nipples between his fingers before pulling at them so hard she sobbed out a curse.

His hips were flush against her body, with his erection pressing into her lower back. He felt large enough as he was, why would he need to add even more–

She didn’t get to finish her thought as he unbuckled her pants and shoved a hand down between her legs, chuckling when he found her panties soaked.

Sliding them to the side and dipping a finger against her entrance Gortash groaned, pulled his hand away and impatiently grabbed the waistband of both her trousers and panties. He dragged it all down to her knees in one swift motion before releasing the fabric, which pooled down at her feet on its own.

Tav gasped and tried to turn around, but his arms already wrapped around her, holding her in place in front of him.

“I’ve wondered a lot about how my invention would slide into you”, he whispered against her ear, his hands slowly trailing over her breasts and down between her legs. “How much lube I would need.” He gently bit down on her neck and sucked at her skin, and Tav closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. “But all I’m wondering now is what kind of obscene sounds you’ll make when I fuck your dripping cunt.”

He leaned forward and dragged his fingers through her folds, then pushed two of them into her with ease.

“Fuck”, Tav breathed out, “You’re–“

A low chuckle rumbled through his chest. “Yes, dear? I’m what?”

Gortash started to pump his fingers in and out of her, and he sighed at how wet she was. Slick was already drooling down his hand, and he had barely started.

Tav meanwhile had lost all train of thought, and her only reply was a moan. She held onto his arms, helplessly letting him finger her while her mind desperately tried to process what was happening. Her hips rocked into his hand, but when her walls started to clench around his fingers, he stopped and pulled away from her.

Gortash stepped around her so their eyes could meet, his fingers glistening with her juices.

“What do you say?”, he asked, tentatively licking one of his fingers, smirking. “You want more?”

Tav replied before she could think. “Yes.”

“I’m going to fuck you with that strap-on. I’m going to call you a whore. And I’m going to do things to you that’ll make you blush come morning.” He licked his lips and grinned. “Do you still want it? My cock, my strap-on, stretching you until all you can do is beg to come?”

“Gods”, Tav croaked out, her cheeks burning and her clit twitching. “You already know I won’t change my mind.”

Gortash laughed wickedly. “Oh, I know. But I like when you look at me like that. When I get to ruin you. Little by little.”

He grabbed her chin and pulled her into a deep kiss, his tongue rough and demanding. Tav sighed into his mouth and brought her hands to his chest, pulling at his shirt with greed. She wanted to see him without clothes so badly. Wanted to feel his skin against hers.

Gortash broke away from her to shove his fingers into her mouth, forcing Tav to taste herself on him. She sucked them clean, but when she was done he pushed down on her tongue, her jaw, until she obediently opened her mouth for him.

“Good”, he nodded, “stay like that.”

Tav stood there, half naked, mouth open, waiting for him to come back from behind her. When he appeared, he was holding the strap-on.

“Keep this safe while I undress”, he demanded, shoving it into her mouth, then patting her cheek like he’d pat a dog on the head. Tav swallowed and closed her lips around the contraption, running her tongue along the ridges. The metal was cool in her mouth, but not uncomfortably so. Despite having held it in her hands earlier, Tav was surprised how large it actually felt, now that it sat between her lips.

Gortash took off his shirt, slowly, watching her stand there with the strap-on in her mouth with a grin on his face. Every piece of clothing came off so leisurely it felt like he was mocking her – he probably was –, intentionally dragging out the time it took him to undress.

Tav stared at him, frozen in place. If her mouth hadn’t been full, she probably would have licked her lips, letting her gaze fall over his body. His torso, usually hidden underneath several layers of shirts and coats, was remarkably more toned than she would have expected; the biceps on his arms curving softly in the dim light. Dark hair covered his chest and trailed down beyond his navel down to his pubic bone where it curled between his legs.

His cock was hard and Tav swallowed around the strap-on when she took note of his length and girth. She stared for a little too long, because a low chuckle rumbled out of Gortash’s chest, pulling her attention back up towards his face.

“You asked me to demonstrate the fit”, he smirked, walking over to pull the strap-on out of her mouth. Saliva had drooled down her chin, which he wiped away with his thumb before he leaned in to kiss her. His lips felt fuller than they looked, demanding and rough but with a certain charm underneath it all that sent a shiver down Tav’s spine, and his tongue pushed into her mouth confidently, as if they’d kissed a thousand times before. Claiming her so easily, almost marking her as his with his actions and his words, shouldn’t have been as arousing as it was – but Tav couldn’t help the small sighs and whimpers she exhaled into his kiss.

When he pulled away from her he grinned, holding up the strap-on so she could see and would follow his hands as he expertly set it on his hard cock, slid it into place, and then tied the leather straps around his belt that he’d retrieved from his pile of clothes, the straps fitting into the belt perfectly.

Tav’s eyes widened. There was no way around it: His cock looked absolutely massive with the strap-on, and it hadn’t been exactly small before.

“I… would like to revisit your offer of ‘prepping’ me first”, she breathed out, tentatively reaching down between his legs to wrap her hand around his length. His warm skin contrasted against the cool metal, and Gortash let out a small groan when she tightened her grip around him, stroking him in slow, deliberate motions.

He sighed, not taking his eyes off the way her hand moved around his cock. “That can be arranged.”

After another moment he tore himself away from her. “Come here”, he beckoned her over, hastily moving documents off the desk and pushing other things to the side, some of them falling to the floor, but Gortash didn’t seem to care. He loosened the straps before setting the strap-on to the side.

Tav sat down on the desk, trying to lean back in a way that would be comfortable, but he just laughed at her. “Oh, darling Tav”, he smirked. “I did not clear the desk to take you like a loving husband would his wife on some makeshift bed.” His eyes narrowed as he pulled her back up by her jaw. “For tonight, you bend to my will.”

She sighed with a grin. “Just say that you want to fuck me, bent over the desk, like a normal person”, Tav replied, eyebrows pinched together.

Gortash cocked his head to the side, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smirk that he did his best to suppress. “Fine.” He licked his lips. “Get down on the desk like the whore that you are.”

When she rolled her eyes he reached out and twisted her nipple between his fingers, dragging a gasp out from deep within her chest.

“You’re–”

Tightening the grip he raised an eyebrow, chuckling. “Yes, dear?”

Tav swallowed a few times before she spoke; confused as to why it felt so good to have him hurt her this way. “Nothing”, she mumbled, and he let go of her with a dirty smile. “Actually…”, Tav started, and Gortash chuckled.

“Come here”, he pulled her into a kiss, bringing both of his hands to her breasts to roll her nipples between his fingers, pull them, and twist them, until Tav was panting into his mouth.

“O-okay”, she breathed out when they broke apart, and she bent down on the desk, her ass hanging over the edge.

Cursing herself, Tav could not believe how stupid she was: Now her breasts would continuously rub over the hardwood, with her sensitive nipples already aching just from lying down. Gortash ran a hand down her back before spreading her legs apart, and when his tip brushed against her wet folds Tav drew in a sharp breath. She wanted him. Fuck. She wanted him so much just the thought of having him drew out a whimper.

So when he lined himself up against her entrance and pushed in, Tav eagerly pulled a leg up onto the desk, giving him even deeper access. Despite her arousal providing ample slickness for him to slide in easily, her walls still had to stretch around his girth, and she loved how full she felt with him in her. Behind her, she could hear him groan softly, pulling back out only to sink back in, repeating the movement a few times until he had buried himself in her up to the hilt.

“I’ve wanted to do this ever since you swaggered your ass into my city”, he groaned, digging his nails into her waist each time he pulled her body back on his cock. “Gods if I’d known you’d be this needy–” Her juices dripped out of her, and when his balls dampened from slapping against her skin, he moaned out a curse, forgetting the rest of his sentence.

Tav was barely hanging on by a thread. Her hands were trying to hold onto the edge of the desk, but when Gortash started to pound into her in earnest her body just helplessly slid across the wood. The first moan that flew out of her mouth was met with a satisfied hum, but soon she was panting and moaning in sync with him. It was hot to hear him enjoy her, enjoy her body, and she knew she was close. She just needed–

When Gortash saw her moving her hand trying to squeeze between her core and the table, he grabbed her wrist and pinned her arm to her back, then pulled her waist back so he could shove his hand between her legs himself. Deft fingers found her clit and circled it so teasingly that Tav sobbed out a plea. Gods, they were both so into each other, when Tav mewled under his touch he groaned in response.

It didn’t take long until she came with a gasp, surprised at the overwhelming pleasure that drowned her so quickly that she shuddered and twitched under him again and again, her own mind lagging behind on comprehending what was happening.

Once her body calmed and her walls stopped clenching around his length, Gortash slowed down and pulled out of her with a sigh.

“Perfect”, he said hoarsely, “absolutely perfect.”

Tav’s face was pressed into the desk, her heart still pounding in her chest as if she’d just sprinted across the city. “Fuck”, she brought out. “That was good.”

Gortash chuckled. “It was”, he agreed, voice thick with lust.

Tav stood up, groaning softly as she stretched her body, and when she turned around she saw him coat the strap-on with a kind of tincture.

“It’ll help with… accommodation”, he said when he caught her eyes. “I have no doubts you’ll be wet enough, but your tight little cunt might need some… support.”

The thought of having him fuck her with the contraption made goosebumps rise on her arms. “Okay”, she croaked out, licking her lips. What else was there to say?

Chuckling he fastened the strap on again, went over to his chair and sat down. He patted his lap, sizing her up as if with a challenge.

“You think you can take both me and my invention?”, he asked, smirking.

“I could take you any day”, Tav scoffed back. It was supposed to sound confident, but she just sounded like the neediest person to walk Faerûn.

“Hmmm”, Gortash sighed, “I might come back to you on that. But. For now: Come here.”

Tav walked around the desk and positioned herself so she could hover her core above him. His hands came up to her waist to support her, and when she reached down to guide him in she was shocked at how wide he felt, now that he was wearing the strap-on.

“I wanted to emulate the feeling of fucking you with two cocks at the same time”, he whispered as she sank down on his tip, the metal already stretching her. “Wanted to make you feel like you’re getting fucked by two of me.”

Tav groaned at the thought and the sensation of his cock pushing into her, the cool golden application tingling at her walls as the tincture started to work.

“But I don’t share”, he whispered hoarsely, slowly letting go of her waist so she’d sink down on him entirely. Gravity worked his cock into her, and Tav gasped when she slid down on his strapped-on girth much faster than anticipated, the ridges bumping against her from the inside.

There was a flickering moment of burning stretch as her walls adjusted to him, but then…

Bliss.

She moaned out loudly when he thrusted upwards, breathing heavily. The fullness tugged at her core, and in that moment she knew she was ruined.

“Fuck”, Gortash moaned out, bringing his mouth to her collarbone to suck on her skin there. “Fuck.”

Tav rolled her hips into him. He’d been right: She was still wet enough that her slick quickly coated the strap-on, and after she pulled up and sank down again on him a few times it simply felt like the biggest cock she could have taken, stretching her continuously as her cunt clenched down on Gortash’s underside and the metal.

“Gods–“, she moaned when he reached up to squeeze her breast, guiding her nipple into his mouth. “Shit–“

The orgasm washed over her without warning. Gortash moaned when her walls clamped down on him, even tighter now, and Tav’s throat croaked out hoarse cries as her head fell back in ecstasy.

“Good”, Gortash chuckled, “The aphrodisiac properties of the tincture seem to be working.”

“What the fuck–“ Tav started, tilting her head back to shoot him a look, but his fist found her hair and yanked her head back.

“Stay like this for a while”, he murmured, starting to buck his hips into her. It was unreal: Already new heat was beginning to build in her belly. Already a new set of moans flew out of her half-parted mouth.

Tav was speechless. His grip on her hair hurt, the way he pulled her backwards was firm and unrelenting, but it felt oh so sweet. Her body was eagerly meeting his thrusts again, barely come down from the high, yet already seeking that pleasure anew.

Underneath her, Gortash was beginning to pant as well, moans flying freely from his throat as his free hand wandered over her body, exploring every piece of her he could reach. Tav’s hands held onto his head, nails digging into the soft flesh of his neck. He seemed to love the way her nails occasionally broke his skin, groaning in delight every time.

Sweat started to form on her temples and between her breasts, matching the heat she was feeling throughout her body.

“Damnation, Tav”, Gortash grunted out so needily it sent a spark down her core. “I’m close. You’re… ah– too tight…”

Hearing his arousal so blatantly turned her on even more, and when he brought his mouth to her skin, licking a long stroke across her chest up to her exposed throat, she sobbed out a needy “Please”. Groaning, he brought his hand down between their legs and started to rub at her clit, her sensitive nerves responding immediately: Crying out, Tav came almost instantaneously.

Her walls spasmed around his cock, the strap-on pressing into her flesh as she clenched down on it. Gortash moaned, her orgasm pulling him over the edge with her. His cock pulsated against the metal, twitching even harder into her cunt, and it was one of the hottest things she ever felt as they both rode out their highs, panting uncontrollably until the feeling of absolute pleasure slowly subsided.

Gortash finally let go of her hair, but immediately pulled her in for a needy kiss. The tenderness surprised her, but it wasn’t exactly unwelcome – nothing seemed to be unwelcome anymore as far as he was concerned. Tav sighed, indulging herself in the sensations of his lips on her, and his tongue against hers, until they broke apart and she carefully lifted herself off of him, sitting down on his lap with his soft cock pressed between their stomachs.

“That was incredible”, Tav murmured, brushing loose hair out of his face.

“I have to agree”, he smirked, repeating the same motion with her.

They both stared at each other for a short moment, sizing each other up in silence.

“Same time tomorrow?”, Gortash eventually asked, a small smile on his lips.

Tav’s face into a grin. “Same time tomorrow. After all, one test is hardly enough to know if your… prototype really is as good as you say.”

“Thinking like a scientist, I see”, he chuckled. “I agree. Further testing is in order.” His face softened as his hand brushed over her cheek. “In all variations. With and without my invention.”

She leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his lips, and her voice was barely a whisper when she responded. “Sounds good to me.”

There were soft sighs when they kissed again, stuttering hearts, and more than one stomach full of butterflies. Even if they didn’t know it yet, the experiment seemed to be successful – in more ways than one.

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please support me in reblogging the fic <3

#enver gortash #gortash x tav #tavtash #bg3 smut #bg3 fanfic #my writing

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esoteric-chaos · 3 months

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Low Energy Witchcraft - Chronic Fatigue Edition

Making a post such as this is something I find absolutely vital. Many of us deal with fatigue. Many of us deal with chronic fatigue and don't know it. This comes in tiredness, drowsiness, exhaustion, lethargy, brain fog, memory issues, slurring of words and muscle weakness.

I deal with Myalgic Encephalomyelitis aka Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (ME/CFS). My Fibromyalgia accompanies that which is a chronic pain condition.

Sometimes you feel stuck in your own body. Bedridden for hours, days, weeks and sometimes life in extreme cases of ME/CFS. Weather can affect this, environment and pushing yourself past your limits. Rest is important.

Now how does this tie into witchcraft? Simple. We use our energy for spellwork, raising energy, energy work, devotion, basically everything. So much of our practice requires personal energy being manipulated and used, leaving us exhausted after in a lot of cases.

I'm going to share some helpful tips with you today.

Now remember, witchcraft is an aid. Nota cure or a replacement for medical aid. Please still take any and all medication and go to the doctors when needed.

Now let's get into it

Sustaining and drawing energy:

Borrowing energy from elements, crystals, tendrils (I'll go into this), space. It's limitless.

Tendrils. Tendrils are a form of vampiric magic I learned. Where you can borrow energy from another person. I will not go into the ethics of consent. I believe you need to do what's right for you at the moment. However, consent is something vital and needs to be practiced. How do you do it? Visualize or focus on feeling these energy tendrils coming out of your fingers. They can suck up the energy from the space or from another person with contact and focus. If not immediately needed, you can store this excess energy in a crystal or an amulet for later use. Always try to ground after so you don't feel overcharged. Being overcharged can cause shakiness, anxiety and sometimes manic-like states.

Sigils

Sigils are a great form of aid. You can make them for lifting brain fog, fatigue, memory, etc. I will link some when I make a few.

Spells

You can do mini spell workings on higher energy days to aid in many ways. I will link some when I make a few.

Deities Worship

If you work with certain deities they may aid you in health. Honouring and working with Apollon (Greek), Apollo (Roman), Sekhmet (Egyptian), Eir (Norse), Airmed (Irish) and many more are associated with healing. A simple prayer can do.

What can I practice when I have little/no energy?

You can practice mindfulness or elemental box breathing. How I do that is breathe in Earth, Fire, Water, Air. Hold Earth, Fire, Water, Air. Breathe out Earth, Fire, Water, Air. and Hold Earth, Fire, Water, Air. Repeat as needed. You will feel more connected to the elements that way.

Take any medication you have with intention. Drawing the sun symbol on your bottles, the planet sun is great for healing.

Prayer to any deities, guardians or ancestors you are currently working with.

Grounding your energy may help you feel better with brain fog. It tends to help me on heavy days.

Doing something as simple as opening a window on a windy day to connect to the air element. Helps cycle air in a stuffy environment as well.

Opening your curtains and basking in the sun's rays can feel very soothing. Alternatively, if you have a sun lamp for SAD, you can bask in its glow and envision the sun's rays on your skin to connect with solar energy.

I will add to this post as time goes on.

Do you want to see more posts I have? Check out the Masterpost.

Updated 2/6/24

#witchcraft #witch #electic witch #witchblr #spoonie witch #spoonie magic #low energy witchcraft #chronic illness #chronic fatigue #me/cfs

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foreverisntenough · 2 months

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- YOU’RE MINE -

Summary: While you daydreamed about his face an ocean apart, he had no idea what yours was about to do to him. With a twist of fate and the heat of summer, a new relationship would completely ransack his heart - Everyday heavy with the thought of one another, neither of you were going to let the unexpected love of your life go. You were going to be his, you were his, and you were going to stay his.

Warnings: This series will contain fluff, suggestive, smut love bombing, little sad, and kind of angst- not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: I hope you like it! There will definitely be more parts (don’t know how many just yet though.)

INDEX

Chapter 12 - ‘You’re Mine’

You pushed the handle of his door, opening it to his big bedroom room, it felt like you were opening a door to a new world you were dying to be in with him, ideally one with no clothes. His room was calming, a lot of neutrals, it really suited him. You were excited to explore it… at a later time though, there was something else you needed to do right now. His body came to press into your back, fingers dragging over your shoulders, down your arms, then wrapping on your hips, gripping you tightly.

“You wanna borrow something to wear to bed?” He spoke softly, innocently, you knew it was a ruse but you wanted to play.

“Yeah, I want to get out of this.” You traced over your body with your own hands. “What do you want me to wear?” your hand then coming to intertwine with his, tilting your neck to the side giving him room to press his lips carefully and painstakingly slow on you. He guided you to step into his wardrobe. It essentially was another full sized room. If you weren’t so desperate right now you probably would’ve been ogling at the clothes and his careful organization. He placed you up against an island in the middle of the room, filled with items you’d want to comb through later. You turned around slowly pushing your back into the counter to watch his next move. Trent turned his back to you, walking away to open a drawer, then pulling his shirt off over his hand. His muscles flexed with his movement, his skin looked so soft, you just wanted to save the image of his strong arms tossing the t-shirt away.

“You’re so sexy T,” you whined, unable to hold in your desperation. While Trent slowly removed his top, you had quickly slipped your pants off impatiently enthusiastic to undress for him. When he did turn around, you stood adorn in his jersey with only lingerie underneath. His mouth gaped a little but he was swift to return to a more serious look. He walked over to you, placing his hands on the counter caging you in. You couldn’t get any words out. Trent’s hands moved slowly to cup your cheek more gently then you expected

“I missed you so much baby” he kissed you sweetly. You were so caught off guard by the switch that you were equally so when he had snapped back into aggression pulling away.

“You had this on all day?” He said lifting the jersey up, getting a glimpse at the black sheer set covered with little embroidered details. He pulled it tight in his fist.

“Mmhmm.” You hummed, he pulled you closer to him, now in between his legs, you had no room.

“So you wore this with my brothers..” you nodded, “at my game…” you nodded again, “in the fucking car with me…” a smirk started to form on your face at his tone. “Fucking laying on me in my house…in this?” He said with such fire behind his eyes, hands now feeling over the set, snapping the band of your panties against your skin. He moved his lips to your neck to bite on your sensitive skin guaranteed to bruise. “You gonna be a good girl and wear something like this to every game f’me?”

“Depends…” you managed some composure. “I’ll put one on next game, if you take this one off” your words dripping with lust. His hand moved off your lingerie and grabbed your face, kissing you deeply. You could feel your arousal leaking on your thigh. You wrapped your arms around him squeezing at his back muscles rippling. He trailed his hand down to your lace covered core intentionally grazing over your nipples in the process. His fingers pushed the soaked material aside.

“Wet already, baby? This all for me? Hmm?” Teasing you. His other hand coming to grab at the nape of your neck, pulling on your hair. You couldn’t stop releasing another moan. In a flash, he tore your panties off, definitely ripping the thin material. His fingers swiftly dragged through your wet folds before immediately plunging two directly inside you. You gasped at the insanely pleasurable intrusion.

“That feel good, baby? Do I make you feel good?” He asked his lips, ghosting over a developing love bite on your neck. When you didn’t respond, too lost in the feeling, he tugged at your hair again. “Huh?”

“Yeah huh” you could barely get the words out, quivering in front of him. “Fuck.. baby.. S-so so good.” Your eyes shutting in rapture at his pace. You couldn’t stop your body from involuntarily grinding against him.

“You missed me baby” He said so smug. “Fuck yourself on my fingers.” He commanded. You couldn’t stop yourself. He curled them further inside, finding your g spot fast, refusing to let up. You rode his fingers, your moans only getting louder when his thumb finger pressed harsh circles around your clit. You let out a soft cry as you rocked your hips onto his hand. Almost immediately you felt your orgasm come crashing over you. Your body shaking, if he wasn’t holding you, you would’ve collapsed.

“T” you whined his name, juices dripping down your legs and his hand, tears forming on your lash lines from the stimulation.

“That’s it baby” Trent slowly pulling his fingers from inside but still softly stroking though your folds. He kept you pressed against the counter, his lips still on your neck, he grabbed your ass and lifted you up to sit on the surface. The shock of the cold surface under you snapped you out of your haze and you greedily pulled at his joggers signaling to take them off. He did quick, revealing his incredible hard cock, already leaking pre cum. You were impatient and pulled him closer to your entrance. He was brash and filled you completely right away, unable to wait any longer. You took his whole length. You gasped at the way his cock stretched you out, not having felt his size in so long. Your arms scratched at his back as your legs wrapped tighter around his waist. Trent was being so rough and you were loving every second of it making up for lost time.

“Such a good girl, taking my cock so well,” he praised you. Slipping one of his hands to tightly grip your neck. You had never seen this side of him and it was driving you crazy.

He was fucking you stupid, your mind had gone completely blank, your vision blurred. He changed the angle lifting one of your legs hitting deeper causing you to bite down harshly on his shoulder. He moaned in pleasurable pain. His whole length repeatedly hit your g spot.

“Shit! Please, please don’t stop,” you begged him between heaving breaths. You sounded so pretty for him. And for him only.

“You like this, baby?” His struggled to get the words out when your walls tightened around him. “Fuck, you feel so good, you’re so fucking tight.”

“P-please tell me I’m a good girl for you,” you whined.You squeezed your eyes tight. You mind was complete mush with every stroke seeming to hit deeper, when he reached down to rub your sensitive clit.

“Such a good fucking girl for me, taking me so well.” His breathing getting heavier by the second, “Fuck, you’re my good girl, baby.” He hummed. Teary eyes looking up through your lashes to meet his. Your nails digging crescent shaped marks into his flesh as your body began to shake, toes curling around him and your moans bouncing off the room’s wall.

“You wanna cum f’me, beautiful? Be a good girl f’me.” He whispered in your ear. You could only manage a nod. Your body trembled as you squirted messily onto him and his cock. Pussy gushing around his thick girth in uncontrollable squirts. The release caused your body to shudder, your head falling into his neck, you were moaning his name senselessly.

“You’re so fucking perfect wearing my jersey. Making such a mess f’me. Tell me your mine. I wanna hear you say it.” His aggression came back demanding you tell him.

“I’m yours Trent, all yours. This pussy’s yours baby.” You babled overstimulated. Tears of ran down your cheeks. He’d never fucked you this hard before. His cock was soaked in your slick as he rolled his hips roughly into you.

“Fuck, fuck!” He cried out. “Baby I gotta cum. Fuck! Let me cum inside, please.” He was at his limit desperate to release. You could only nod again. His harsh movements came to a halt as he buried himself deeper inside you. Pumping you full with his cum while pressing his lips to yours the way he usually did. You both laid into each other's sweaty bodies, foreheads resting on the other.

“Get this off” Trent pulled his jersey off you. His arms coming back around your back, unclipping your bra, dropping both items to the floor. His hands stroked your back, you were practically shaking.

“C’mere beautiful” he cooed holding you tighter to his chest lifting you off the counter. Your feet were on the ground but you couldn’t stand on your own so he held you just the same. You were both completely naked now stuck together. He pressed a kiss to your temple.

“You okay, baby?” He whispered. You could only hum, your face pressed into the crook of his neck. You kissed at his skin lazily.

“You sure? Was I too rough? I’m not..I’ve …” Trent nervously and quietly stumbled around words. He hadn’t really been that physically aggressive like that with you yet. You both had bruises, bite marks, scratches. When Trent was rough with girls before he usually didn’t care too much about them but he needed to take care of you. You were his, he loved fucking you senseless but he also knew that he was falling for you and that this was different. He needed to make sure you were okay. You pulled your head off his chest slowly…

“I’m okay, T.” You giggled “I liked it, you treating me like that” you could hear him let out a sigh of relief. “Didn’t expect that in your wardrobe but I’m happy.” Continuing giggling a little delirious after the sex.

“Yeah?” He felt completely euphoric hearing the sound of your little laugh, your body against his, knowing you were happy. He was smug with himself. He pressed another kiss against your skin. Relishing the feeling of what just happened. “I wanna fuck you forever baby.” You hummed in agreement.

“Forever please” you tilted your head up pushing your lips out for a kiss.

You finally got back to the main room but remained naked, clung to him. Your arms draped around his neck. Your body pressed to his side as he walked.

“Gonna shower.” He told you his arm came up to grab at your hands around your neck.

“Mmm, can I come?” you tightened your hands against his skin not allowing him to pry them off. Your body pressing further into his.

“I assumed you were already,” he said, kissing your lips.

You barely could call it a shower, it was just another round. Your bodies refusing to part, only doing so to switch positions. Trent fucked you more gently now. This was so caring and loving in comparison. It was the literal opposite but you could never say you liked one or the other more. You were greedy and you wanted both. When you actually did manage to get clean and get out of the shower Trent carefully wrapped you in a towel, his arms quick to fall around you. He nuzzled his face into your neck. You two ended up naked again quickly but this time just making out laughing in between messing around.

“T, stop! You said giggling, running out of the bathroom trying to get away from him after he continually kept pinching your ass. Still no clothes involved, only wearing stupid childish smiles on your face, unable to take them off. He caught you quick; he was obviously faster than you.

“C’mere baby” his arms wrapping around you picking you up swinging your body like a rag doll. He placed kisses all over you sloppily, wet, messy exaggerating the ‘mwuah’ sound.

“Ew! Get off me!!” You squirmed in his arms, dramatically wiping your hand over your cheek to get his kisses drool off you. You weren’t trying very hard though.

“Nope” he said, popping the ‘p’ sound. You whined at another kiss too close to your eye.

“T!” Your hands now grabbing his cheeks to physically distance him from you. “Aren’t you tired!? What happened to sleep, knackered?” He laughed, putting you down, finally letting go. He fell back onto his bed sprawled out letting out a big sigh.

“Hmm?” You probed for him to answer you.

“Say it again.” He ignored your question and you were lost at his.

“Say what?” Placing your knees on either side of his body. You were straddling him now so he sat up with attention and anticipation.

“Knackered.. “ his hand waving at you to say it.

“Knackered” you repeated, a silly grin on your face but a furrowed brow.

“You say it funny.” He giggled hands coming to cupp your cheeks.

“I do not!” You were laughing but practically yelling in offense. Trent hushed you with his finger coming to your lips but you just bit at it. He had riled you up. You hadn’t felt this happy in so long.

“We have to be quiet.” He said now in a whisper. You just laughed.

“T… now you want to whisper?” Questioning him. You two had been literally fucking and fucking around loudly for hours. He rubbed his hand over his face. You poked at a dimple appearing in his smile.

“Yeah, okay… but we” he pulled you a little closer “we need to go to bed.” Placing a kiss on your forehead.

You got under the covers of his bed. After your long day, you were sure this was the comfiest bed you’ve ever been in.

“Mmm” you hummed, wiggling happily getting situated.

“Yeah?” He questioned your cute motion.

“Yeah, come here.” His eyes widened at you being the one to ask that. He giddily crawled into your arms pressing his face into your boobs. You could only smile. His arms wrapped completely around your frame. He rolled you two over so you were on top of him. He liked having you. You stayed there. Kissing down till your head was at his chest then you nestled in. One leg placed between his, raising the other to lay over him, bending at the knee. Your hand sprawled across his chest. You both stilled at the comfort. The giggles subsided into hums of contentment. He kissed the top of your head.

“I like being here.” You cooed.

“I like you being here” he replied immediately. “I l..like you.” He stuttered over the words, he knew it was more than ‘like.’

Your heart fluttered at the words. You couldn’t believe how happy you were. You’d never been this happy in your life. You remembered the night you questioned if he was getting off knowing you were a bit broken all before he gave you the best sex of your life. That wasn’t the point though… how would he have known you have had a difficult time. He couldn’t… he didn’t. It was just instinctual to protect you. Your mind went somewhere completely different from where you were physically. Trent’s warm hands stoked up your spine though and you snapped back to the present at the touch. This is where you were meant to be, with him, with your Trent.

“Ya know…You did so well tonight, T” you said sleepily into his chest

“Are you talking about my performance.. like during sex?” He said questioning you, pulling his body away from yours. You couldn’t hold back your laugh.

“No” you said, muddied in giggles. “But if you want me to.. 10/10” your thumb brushing over his plump perfect lips.

“No critiques?” He looked so happy with your rave review. You shook your head ‘no’ “okay… and on the pitch?” He was interested to know your thoughts.

“Well….” You dragged out the word.

“Actually…” he cut you off, starting to rethink his question.

“You are amazing, baby. 10/10 every time.”

“Okay you’re lying which I don’t like” you giggled at him and he yawned. His eyes looked completely drained. His breaths were so slow. Trent was running on pure adrenaline being back with you but he was starting to fade and you could tell.

“Baby” you cooed, “ go to sleep please.” Trying to slip off his body.

“Nah, nah, nah you’re staying right here” holding you tighter to his chest so you two slept just like that.

Your nail dragged over his tanned skin. It was slow, you were tired. You woke up pressed to Trent’s chest not knowing the time slightly confused from the jet lag. At first you were slow to pull your head up not to wake him but now you were purposely playing with him in hopes he would. Your finger lifted from his chest to his jaw drawing over the sharp line causing him to stir. When he finally acknowledged you with a hum you felt bad so you put your head back down on his chest. His hand sprawled on your low back trailed up your spine to grip the back of your neck gently, his thumb stroking your skin. His sleepy movement made you so weak. He wasn’t even awake and you were obsessed.

“Baby” Trent groaned eyes still closed.

“Hmm?” You hummed kissing all over his bare chest.

“No” he said it so coldly it actually made your heart stop. “C’mere, gimme a proper kiss” your heart began beating again. A soft smile took over your face, your hands gliding to cup his cheek. He still hadn’t opened his eyes. He had no expression on his face either. He just knew he wanted your lips on his. You kissed him softly your lips moving perfectly sleepily, your bodies heating up again.

“What time is it?” He said pulling away. It was crazy he was able to dip in and out of moments like that.

“I don’t know, baby” cooed, thumb stroking over his lips, still wanting more. You watched him outstretch his arm to grab his phone, he was so tired it looked like it was happening in slow motion. The bright screen had him squinting and flinching away from it. You couldn’t contain the small giggle.

“Nah, what time did we go to bed last night?” He asked like you were supposed to know and you weren’t in the same haze he was in. You told him you didn’t know and he groaned, pulling you closer and tighter into him. Nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, his facial hair tickled your skin

“Got literally… I think 2 hours of sleep” he groaned again muffled into your neck this time.

“I’m so sorry” you actually felt really guilty considering he had played a whole match last night in addition to your antics in his room that had your body exhausted.

“Don’t. I’ve never been more happy to have my body feel this tired… need to go get another water.” You looked at him with sad big eyes not wanting him to leave you causing him to giggle.

“I’ll be right back. Swear. Just downstairs” he kissed you, pulling you off his body. He sighed loudly, stretching his arms out sitting on the edge of the bed. He moved lazily and stiffly, getting up finally to throw on a pair of shorts that hung low on his hips. God, he was so hot.

“Mmm” you hummed with a smile painted on your face. Trent turned around to see you tucked into his bed. You looked small in the massive bed surrounded by all the pillows and blankets. Your hair was a little messy, your cheeks flushed, bruises on your skin from him scattered on your chest and neck.

“You’re perfect.” He cooed looking at you shaking his head before he walked out of the room. You just laid there snuggling into his sheets. The smell of him lingered, completely relaxing you lulling you back to sleep.

•

Thank you for continuing reading! I know this one was a litter shorter but promise lengthier ones are coming. Let me know what you think as always. 🤍

Next Part - Chapter 13 xx

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold imagines #you’re mine fic

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kitasgloves · 3 months

Text

"Pasilyo"

event masterlist

— ♬ "'Di maikukumpara, araw-araw kong dala-dala, paboritong panalangin ko'y ikaw"

— ♬ Iwaizumi x Reader, timeskip, SFW, tooth-rotting fluff, gen reader, added headcanon that Iwa is half-filo so there's Tagalog dialogue, the translation won't be accurate so feel free to correct me, no beta

His palms are sweaty, and he can feel the electricity coursing over his muscles. Iwaizumi Hajime is intensely filled with excitement and nervousness. With every heavy inhale, he's only staring at you. There you were, strolling at the beginning of the aisle, approaching the church's altar. Iwaizumi was about to kiss you there and never let you go, and he couldn't ask for anything more.

You met Iwaizumi when he was twenty-seven and working as an athletic trainer for the Japanese Volleyball team, you were the manager and the timing couldn't be more perfect. People would ask and you'd always say you were the one who fell in love first and Iwaizumi will deny that he fell harder. You walked inside the building on your first day and saw this handsome man with large muscles, so it was natural for you to gawk. Iwaizumi greeted you politely and smiled, your heart skipped several beats within a second. He had that boyish charm that it was hard not to fall for.

With a hot guy like that, you knew you had to make a move. It began with bringing him coffee every morning, he'd always give you that smile that lights up the darkest room. Whenever you two were in the office, you'd always start a conversation to get him to talk more and hear his voice. Iwaizumi often assisted you with the athletes and looked out for you whenever they got rowdy. You two grew close and began eating together during lunch, sometimes he would rub the back of his neck and ask if he could walk you home. Your face always felt flushed whenever he would wave goodbye after he dropped you off.

People would wonder who confessed first, and you'd sigh and point at Iwaizumi. It was the end of the Tokyo Olympics, your job as the Japanese Volleyball team's manager had come to an end and you'll have to apply to another team again. It was the evening after the celebration when Iwaizumi asked if he could talk with you outside, there was a bunch of cheering and whistling from the athletes when they witnessed it.

"But it's cold outside, Iwa"

"Here, you can borrow my jacket. I need to talk to you"

He insists as you eagerly slip on his jacket, sniffing his intoxicating scent. The two of you stood outside in the cold evening, you looked over to see Iwaizumi with his hands in his pockets trying to fight back a shiver. He looked adorable with red cheeks on his tan skin.

"So, what do you wanna talk about?"

"I like you, [Name]. A lot"

"Oh"

"I get it if you don't feel the same but I don't want to part ways with you without telling you what I feel"

It took a minute for you to process what he said before smiling up at him, Iwaizumi was perplexed. You reached for his hands and clasped them with your own, sharing your warmth through your palms.

"I like you too, ya idiot"

"Oh shit. Really?"

"Why did you think I keep giving you free coffee and letting you walk me home every night?"

The cold couldn't stop Iwaizumi from letting out a victorious laugh lifting you into his strong arms and spinning you around. You could never forget that night, not when he looks at you like you're everything that he's been searching for in his entire life.

Nothing could ever compare, every day Iwaizumi carries his favorite prayer; to be with you until he's old. Every day, he prays to God that his last name would be yours. To think that it's finally walking now because he sees you finish your walk down the aisle and climb the steps towards him. Iwaizumi's chest swelled up with emotion when you reached to grab his hand in front of the priest, in front of your friends and family. He couldn't stop the tear sliding down his cheek when he finally embraced you.

The last two years of Iwaizumi's life were filled with colors as you painted his life with love and happiness. Every moment he intertwined his hands with you, every second he got to kiss you, and every time he held you, he never took everything for granted. He promised to treat you right, to give you everything you want and deserve. Flowers, chocolate, kisses, or a shoulder to cry on, he makes sure to provide it to you. Through tender nights and tough fights, Iwaizumi never left you.

It has always been you and only you. The one he wants to spend the rest of his life with, the one he wants to share this happiness with, the one he wants to return home to, and the one who'll forever have his heart. Iwaizumi makes sure that he lets you know all of that until he has saved enough and bought you a shiny ring. It was your third anniversary that he got on one knee. Sure, people might think he's rushing into things but he couldn't wait any longer. He was thirty and he wanted to marry you so bad. So, as he watches you go teary-eyed and scream 'Yes!' at him, he doesn't waste any time slipping that engagement ring on your finger and giving you one long and loving kiss.

Everybody at the wedding murmured how you and Iwaizumi couldn't take your eyes off each other, they teased and melted at the sight. As it was time to say your vows, the church was suddenly filled with stillness. You grabbed the microphone and smiled at Iwaizumi.

"I remember you getting drunk during Oikawa's birthday party and yelling at your friends about how we're getting married. It was adorable and funny because you were so wasted"

There was laughter coming from the people in the pews. Iwaizumi playfully rolled his eyes at you.

"I also remember that one time seeing your mom cry because she was so happy that you got engaged and she wouldn't stop bragging about it to her friends. You looked so embarrassed"

"Pinapahiya mo ba ako?"

[Are you embarrassing me?]

Iwaizumi muttered but you dismissed it with a giggle. Iwaizumi's mother gave you a huge smile and laughed in her seat.

"As I recall those moments I have come to realize that I wanted to spend forever with you. To think that you have changed the trajectory of my life within two years and eight months of being together, it's fantastic. I promise to be stuck with you in sickness and in health. I promise to be stuck with you to the point that not even death can separate us. Hajime, my love, my home, and the one I promise to give happiness to until the end of time. I love you"

You finished your vow as everyone clapped. Iwaizumi wipes the corner of his eyes with his sleeve and sniffs. His best man, Oikawa, teases him by handing him his handkerchief. He glared daggers at his best friend and snatched the handkerchief before the microphone was handed to him. He clears his throat.

"[Name], aking mahal"

[[Name], my love]

"My palms are so sweaty and I could feel the spark throughout my body. I prayed for this moment and to have finally happen before my eyes, it makes me excited for the life I will have once you have my last name. I vow to keep you safe, to make you feel happy, and to provide you with everything you need. I promise to love you until you're practically sick of it"

Iwaizumi looks over and sees you grin at him. 'I doubt that' you mouthed towards him and his stomach did a flip. He spent the entire month writing and re-writing his vows only to change them again now he's standing in front of you. He figured that he didn't need a poetic vow to promise to you that he'll love you until the end of time. Whatever his heart told him to say was enough.

"Di maikukumpara, araw-araw kong dala-dala, paboritong panalangin ko'y ikaw"

[Nothing could ever compare. Every day I carry, my favorite prayer is you]

He finishes and you melt. It was your turn to get teary-eyed. Words would never describe the absolute joy you felt at the moment. As you two said your 'I do's, the priest asked if there were any objections, and immediately, Iwaizumi's three friends began jokingly glaring at the pews.

"Object my bro's wedding or you're catching these hands"

You recognize that it was Matsukawa. There was a series of laughter from the pews as Iwaizumi let out a face-palm. Fortunately, though, nobody decides to object. And before you know it, you have taken Hajime's last name and finally kissed him at the altar. Everybody clapped and whistled as you and now your husband walked down the aisle, smiling and waving at everybody. Hajime leans over to your ear and whispers.

"Finally, I'm fucking starving"

"You didn't eat breakfast, didn't you?"

"I couldn't, I was too excited and nervous about the wedding"

"Hajime, you idiot"

"Can't wait for our honeymoon, though"

He smirks down at you and you immediately blushed and slapped his arm. Hajime lets out a laugh. This married life was promising, and you and he couldn't be happier to experience it.

#— ♬ ©kitasgloves #haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi haijime x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi x y/n #Spotify

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shinycollarboneapologist · 11 months

Text

a tale of brief encounters (and the one time it actually isn't so brief)

(part 2 to clandestined, or the one where matty tries to call elle’s bluff)

word count: 8.6k

content: MINORS DNI! mentions of alcohol and drinking, matty is a jealous baby, mutual pining, george cockblocks, smut, fingering in front of a mirror, and matty uses the term “good girl” a lot, also slight age gap (3 years). (i also have not read through this yet, so please do not hesitate to tell me if something is wrong or weird thank u)

with the turn of the season comes the inevitability of elle’s trek home from the hectic haze of school and work and the return to some sense of normalcy. it’s inundated with the promise of rest and relaxation, a chance to stretch her legs and finally start cracking on that growing pile of “to be read” books or change up her style, get cracking on those internship applications. it also comes with the promise of returning to george’s couch, a tradition dating back to when she initially committed to a university and moved out of their shared childhood home. It was the promise that both would have a month or so of uninterrupted brother-sister bonding time (it also gave her the opportunity to work and make money without having to pay rent).

the season changes and so does she, trading in her sweaters for shorts and sundresses; its unnaturally hot for this time of year and the sun is fully shining instead of peaking through the clouds. it’s early in the morning when she gets the call from george that he’s outside with a borrowed van. stomach flipping, elle tells him that she’ll be down in a moment. there’s that underlying promise that there would be someone with him. it was tradition after all for george and matty to come to get her. she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about him once these past few weeks. but her unrelenting anticipation is soon replaced by disappointment at the sight of a lone george waiting outside the building. it’s short-lived, though, as she finds herself quickly distracted by loading up the van with some of her essentials. she’s hardly lifting a finger because in true george fashion he’s lugging most of the heavier items, a bit begrudgingly but he’s doing it anyway.

the ride back to his is smooth. there’s not many people on the road due to the time of day, and he even makes it a point to stop and get the both of them some fast food breakfast and coffee along the way. george asks about the internship and elle answers, raving about the london office and all of the coworkers she has yet to meet and how one of her roommates was also awarded a position there so the duo plans on commuting together. elle asks about the guys, carefully skirting around the topic of his own roommate. and after he talks about ross and hann, she doesn't bring up matty, a bit too scared to ask where he is or how he’s been. his absence is felt in the car all the way home and elle finds herself having to push away dangerous thoughts of him more often than she would admit to.

the apartment is empty when they arrive, much to elle’s dismay. a smile replaces her frown, though, as not to seem too dejected. even if there was no kiss, no longing, no desire, she still would miss him and his antics and the big welcome home that he’s always given her. the day passes by as she makes herself at home in the small two bedroom apartment, claiming a shelf in the bathroom and setting up a stake on the pull out couch. it almost feels empty without matty messing around and hiding her stuff as she tries to organize herself. she can’t help but feel dejected in a way, chest feeling heavy as she tucks herself onto the couch after the long day.

sleep comes easy, but doesn’t stay that way. it’s late when elle hears a clanging by the door, the jingling of keys and giggles coming from outside in the hall. not this. it takes a second for the door to open and the culprits to be revealed.

matty’s wrapped around another girl, lips feverishly pressing to her own and hands roaming her body. its dark, but the small amount of light coming in from the door is enough to illuminate the way he’s pressing himself against her. she’s gasping, her own hands clutching onto him and pulling him close. there’s stifled whispers falling from his lips, elle can hear the hush in his tone, and his friend’s incessant giggling. the door to the hallway shuts and he begins to move her inside, closer to where elle is trying so viciously to not be seen. bile rises to her throat.

“oh, hey there, ellie belly,” he hums.

ellie belly. the nickname weighs heavy on her brain, he hasn’t called her that in ages. and surely, she had thought something would change following the kiss and the things he muttered into her ear and the way his hands gripped her waist. but evidently, it’s still the same. at least it is for him.

she rolls over, wanting the couch to just fold back up and crush her with it, but not before his eyes meet her’s and he sends her a wink in the dark that turns her stomach.

“who was that?” the dark haired girl breathes out, as he begins to back her into his room.

“no one important, s’just my roommate’s sister,” the door is shut and that’s when the tears come.

—---------------

elle is pretty good at avoiding matty for a few days.

she pushes herself to stay longer at the office, take the longer train ride home and the more scenic walk up to the apartment building. and it’s easy to do so. he’s rarely home when she is, and even when he is around there’s not many interactions between the two of them that aren’t mediated by george.

“you going out tonight?” george asks, walking up to the bathroom that she had been hogging for what he saw as hours. his face comes to view in the mirror as he pokes his head into the open door.

elle smiles at him, nodding as she lowers the music playing from her phone, an old throwback song, “yeah a couple of the interns wanted to celebrate the completion of our first week at the office.”

he returns the smile and steps into the room, leaning against the threshold of the door with his arms crossed over his chest, “hope it doesn’t end up as a repeat of your eighteenth birthday. you remember that?”

eyes narrowing, she puts the curling iron down and turns to get a full look at him, scoff falling from her lips, “it will not!”

“that’ll teach you to go shot for shot with me and matty,” he’s full on grinning now, “spent most of your night in this bathroom here if i’m correct.”

his words bring elle back to the flavored vodka and redbull induced night, can still taste the bitterness on her tongue and the copious amounts of sports drinks she had consumed to not spend her night in the hospital. it all started when matty made a comment on the “girly” drink she had in her hand, challenging her to take a sip of his much more “macho” mixed drink. it wasn’t half bad, surprisingly, and he promised the girl that he would buy her as many as she wanted so long as she finished them all. an opportunist at heart, elle accepted but soon found herself clutching her stomach and being led out of the dingy london club by george and matty, her friends and the rest of the guys trailing behind the three of them. the night got foggy from that point on and the first thing she can vaguely remember is waking up in george’s bed with a cool rag on her forehead and a pounding headache.

“enough from you. it was all matty’s fault anyway,” elle chides, turning back to the mirror to continue fixing her hair.

“oh yeah, because he force fed you all those drinks,” george tuts his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“alright, get out before i burn you with this,” elle waves the iron at him. he only holds his hands up in mock surrender.

“do you need a ride? i think matty’s heading out tonight, was gonna dd for him. can always drop you off as well,” george asks as he exits, leaving elle to ponder the thought.

“where’s he going?” she tries not to seem too enthralled by the question, instead trying to busy herself with the hot curling iron and a stubborn strand of hair, “i’m not gonna ask you to taxi me around if he’s going somewhere and i’m out of the way.”

she hears george utter the name of a club. it’s familiar, has her pausing the music to hear him again as he repeats it. the curling iron slips from her hand and there's a slight burning sensation bubbling up on the skin on the top of her foot.

“fuck!”

when the realization of matty being at the same club finally sinks in, the hot metal doesn’t seem so painful. she reaches down quickly and grabs the tool, placing it back on the counter.

“elle, are you alright?” george asks, poking his head back into the bathroom.

“yeah. i’m fine,” she mutters, more so trying to convince herself than anything, “guess i’ll take you up on that offer, then.” she gives him a half-smile. he nods apprehensively, but doesn’t push the issue. and elle is grateful for that. when he dips out of the room once more, she lets out a long, exasperated sigh.

she was fucked.

matty returns moments before they’re set to leave; the first time elle has seen him solo and not entangled with one of his friends. his presence cuts into her bravado with a knife, tugging on the threads of her confidence and pulling against them until they’re taught enough to snap. she finds herself messing with her outfit more, playing with the straps of her dress and fiddling with the hem. he notices, because he always does, and offers her a sly smirk, lips curled around his teeth. if things were different, it would have hit her right in the gut, eliciting a burning sensation. and while it did that now, elle was conflicted with a sense of wanting to shy away from it all.

in a turn of events, matty lets elle take the passenger seat claiming the back of the van is “too decrepit for sweet ellie belly.” she cringes at the nickname, rolling her eyes as she slips into the passenger side. his eyes are hot on her neck, burning holes into her skin. she can feel them lighting little fires, a stark comparison to how cold he had been to her the week prior.

the ride is quick, her thoughts muted by george and matty’s antics. her stomach churns when george asks if matty plans on bringing home a friend tonight. the older boy only laughs, his eyes catch elle’s before he slips out of the van, offering a sly smirk and a stomach-fluttering wink. elle is nauseated and thankful that he’s ran ahead to meet up with his friends at the door.

“call me if you need anything, yeah?” george smiles from the driver’s seat. elle nods, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before she follows matty’s suit and slips out of the car. loud music permeates the air of chatter around the entrance which is saturated by the bodies of those waiting to get in or enjoying a smoke. there’s no sight of matty, though, and elle is thankful for that. she just wants him to stay out of her hair and out of sight for as long as possible.

“elle!”

elle pivots on the balls of her feet, spinning around to see charli and sophie. she wraps her arms around her friends as they squeal and cheer their hellos, despite the annoyed glances from those around them.

“is that george in the car?” charli quips while they pull away. she raises on her tippy toes to attempt to see in the van that’s slowly pulling away, tugging her lowcut top down a bit and fluffing up her hair, “go ask him if he wants to come have a drink. s’on me.”

“don’t be weird, char.” elle groans, dragging her friends towards the entrance after turning to wave george off.

the club is packed, littered with bodies from wall to wall. and despite the lack of room to move let alone breathe, elle is happy. it leaves little to no anticipation that she would be forced to interact with matty. the girls are quick to distract her from it all, buying her drink after drink and shot after shot. the music is vibrating through her body, mixing with the alcohol she’s quickly consumed to create a sense of euphoria. she needed this.

“that guy over there has not stopped staring at you since we came in,” sophie smirks, handing elle another drink. her head nods over the girl’s shoulder and elle twists around to follow her gaze.

sure enough, a guy; about six foot with a mop of golden curls and tattoos littering his slender arms, has his lip tucked between his teeth. his aloof demeanor matches the off-set smirk thats on his face. elle won’t deny he’s attractive, she has a type clearly. a small, bashful smile pulls at her lips. she offers him a wave, which he returns. elle is quick to turn around, giddy as she faces sophie once more.

“he’s coming over.”

“no he’s not, shut up,” elle’s cheeks feel warm, stomach twisting in delight.

sophie nods, wide eyed, “elle, he’s uh right behind-”

“hey,” his voice is deep, sending a shiver down elle’s spine as he finds his place carefully next to her.

“hi,” she returns the gesture. if the lights in the club were not so dim, she was sure he would see the rising flush from her neck.

“what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” he quirks, nodding his head at her.

“am i not allowed to be here?” she tilts her head to the side, looking up at him with doed eyes.

“never said that. think running into you made my night significantly better, actually,” his arm worms its way around her waist and elle’s smile only deepens. she curls her lips around the straw of her drink, sucking down the bitter liquid while keeping her eyes locked on his.

his name is alex. he’s a musician in a local band, lead singer and guitar player. he grew up ten-minutes from where elle’s family moved and he was actually in her maths class.

she has a type.

her attention is only pulled from his momentarily. and in that moment she’s kicking herself for even looking away.

across the bar, matty is stood nursing a drink. he looks like he’s paying half a mind to it as his head bops to the beat. their eyes lock for only a moment. his attention is pulled down to the arm around her waist and the guy slung around her neck. alex’s lips are hot on her skin, albeit a bit messy. a soft gasp falls from her parted lips, consumed by the thickened air around them. her eyes fall shut as his teeth drag over the sensitive skin just under her ear.

when her eyes open, matty’s gone.

“well well well. what do we have here?”

even in her alcohol induced euphoria, elle would recognize the timbre of that voice anywhere. the way his lilted pronunciation rolls off his tongue, hangs in the air like smoke and vanishes away before she can hang on too tight. his presence usually elicits flutters in her stomach, a pounding in her chest and a bright smile. this time, however, the disdain burns heavy on her tongue. he’s got a thing for being places he shouldn’t be at the times where its least opportune. the hand on her waist tightens, drawing her in closer to the stranger’s grasp. she wants so badly to remember the guys name, it sits untouched on the tip of her tongue because the only name she can remember is-

“matty,” elle huffs, “what are you doing here?”

“just wanted to see how little ellie belly was doing,” he reaches up and ruffles her hair. it draws a chuckle from the man wrapped around her (andrew? jamie?). elle feels her shoulders slump, stomach twisting instead of fluttering. matty doesn’t relent, “though, it looks like she’s doing alright for herself.”

“do you know this guy?” scott! his name is scott, asks from next to her.

“unfortunately,” elle mutters, crossing her arms over her chest.

matty snorts with a roll of his eyes, “i’m matty. and you are standing way too close to the precious cargo.” his hand is outstretched, staring directly at the arm wrapped conveniently around elle’s waist. she feels small under his gaze. and even smaller as the man stood next to her reaches out his unoccupied hand.

“alex,” their hands collide in an uncomfortable sound, “and i’ll stand right here until she decides to tell me off. which i hope she doesn’t, by the way.”

matty’s tongue rolls against his teeth. it clicks against the roof of his mouth as an emotion elle has yet to pinpoint washes over his face. he covers it up quickly with a half-lipped smile, looking between the two of them, “next round on me?”

he does buy the next round, with alex soon following with another and there was a third bought by matty and a fourth by alex. with each slam of an empty pint glass and smirk thrown in her direction, elle feels like she’s shrinking. small enough to weasel away from the testosterone induced challenges that have been plaguing her ears for the past thirty minutes or so, but alex’s hand sitting firmly around her waist and matty’s darkened stare are enough to keep her in place.

“is one of them about to pee on you? or is the meat-fest pointless?” sophie huffs, though she’s already downed another drink bought by matty.

“this is getting ridiculous. i just want to get out of here,” elle sighs.

it doesn’t matter how loudly either of the girls talk. the two men are paying them no mind. instead,both of their chests are puffed outwards and elle can tell from the way matty is standing that he’s trying to appear taller than he is, though he and alex stand around the same height. its paired with their obnoxiously timed sly digs in between the casual conversation about alex and matty’s one shared common interest: being musicians in a local band.

manicured fingers reach up to tug on the sleeve of alex’s shirt. there’s no budge. no movement aside from the arm that was once around her waist slipping a bit. brown eyes dart down, and a smirk rises on matty’s lips. elle feels sick. he looks pretty pleased with himself. she needs to work harder, remind the man that was so wrapped up in her moments ago that she was still standing there. so, she tugs again.

alex shifts to face her this time, dazed smile on his lips.

“do you wanna get out of here?” elle all but begs into his ear; she just wants to be put out of her misery of watching the mirrored images bicker.

“oh…oh…yeah,” he nods. thankful, elle lets their fingers intertwine.

“we’re gonna head out. see you, matty. thanks for the drinks,” she nods her head in matty’s direction.

his expression is unreadable, like he’s mulling over something in his head. as annoyed as she is, elle would kill to be able to crack open his brain to see what exactly was going on in there. the wheels were definitely turning, whether good, bad or indifferent. as badly as she wanted to get out of there, she more so would spend the next few hours picking his brain. yet, alex serves as a viable distraction. a means to break her from the matty-induced spell.

alex extends his hand out to shake matty’s once more. the brunette looks down at the outstretched hand, then back at the way elle has so comfortably enclosed herself around alex’s arm. he meets her eyes, eyebrows arched in an “are you sure about this?” expression.

“why are you looking-”

“dunno if you want to take her too far, mate. she might blow chunks on those nice new trainers you got there,” matty seethes.

elle stiffens, hoping that the otherwise loud roar of the conversations around them and the overwhelming bass of the music would drown out the sound of matty’s voice. his words hang around in the thickened air, though, long enough for alex to slowly lower his hand.

“matty-”

“mate, what are you talking about?” alex chuckles uneasily.

“meant what i said. was her birthday. at this very club, she got so shit-faced couldn’t even walk straight. yacked right in that corner that she was probably about to take you to,” matty continues, vindictive bites laced within the syllables that fall from his mouth. elle so badly wants to catch them all, bury it all deep below the surface. this has never happened before. he’s never done this.

“matty, stop,” she pleas. her requests fall as quickly as alex lets her hand drop.

alex, all six-foot, messy auburn-hair, guitar playing lead-vocalist of him, laughs beside her.

“think that’s the same night you belted out shakira the whole way to the cab? right, elle?” matty’s looking at her, expecting an answer. but how can she answer when her tongue feels heavy against the roof of her mouth? when the words she wants to utter are jumbled and foreign? how can she answer when the one person that’s always made her feel like the only person in the room is treating her no better than the lime he discarded on the bar?

he doesn’t wait any longer for a response. instead he continues, “it was a fucking mess, dude. the bouncers had to cone it off. my brand new trainers were stained.”

elle’s chest feels tight, throat constricting as she tries to gasp for air. she would much rather deal with matty’s incessant stare, the darkened gaze and the brooding attitude than have him obliterate any chance with blonde-haired alex right in front of her. when the two of them laugh in cohesion, she feels a knife puncturing at her heart, eyes glazing over.

she’s worming her way away from the group before she can hear anymore of what matty so graciously has to say. the tears come before she can make it all the way outside, ignoring the concerned stares from strangers.

the cobblestone lined wall provides little relief to her heated body, heart hammering hard against her rib cage. she’s gasping for air, choked sobs drowning out the bass from inside. never in her life did she believe that of all people matthew fucking healy would be the one to take the piss out of her. it was bad enough that he’d pretty much pretended like she didn’t exist the entire first week of her arrival, ignored her texts. was this how he felt all along? was their friendship instilled in convenience of her stroking his ego when she complimented the band?

her shaking hands cover her face as the sobs rack through her body. she’s pathetic, feeling no bigger than the ants that crawl on the sidewalk. she envies them, despises them even. they at least get to crawl away from their problems and are able to get squished under the shoes of those that don’t care about them. meanwhile, she’s helplessly tangled up in the one problem she has.

matty.

“elle?! where the fuck are you?” his voice collides with her ears oppressively. her stomach twists, “why- why did you leave?”

he’s out of breath; shoulders rising and falling quickly.

she puffs out a laugh, wiping at the tears that have collected under her eyes.

“why did i leave? are you that fucking dense, matty?”

he gulps, adams apple bobbing.

“can you go get sophie and charli for me? i want to go home.”

“thought you were catching a ride with me and george,” matty takes a step towards her. its tentative, like he was mulling the action over in his head before he did it. so, he can think. he just picks and chooses when to do so.

“don’t want to be anywhere near you, actually.”

she watches as he winces and rubs over his heart, “sheesh. that one hurt, sweets. wait, are you crying?” matty’s face softens but she turns her face away.

“elle.”

“leave me alone, matty,” she mutters. its pathetic the way her heart raps against her ribs harder as his hand comes in contact with her shoulder. the tiny little fires under her skin burn brighter and faster than ever before.

“why are you crying?” he presses, tone unwavering.

“I’m not,” her voice betrays her as a sob escapes between her parted lips.

he scoffs, “then what’s all this?”

“i just don’t understand what i did to make you hate me so much,” elle sniffles, rubbing at her eyes.

“what are you talking about?”

she inhales slowly, “you, fuck, you made me look like a fucking idiot. Fucking telling him all those embarrassing stories, won’t even look me in the eye at the apartment, avoiding me like the damn plague. matty, if you hate me, just fucking say it.”

he’s quiet.

he’s quiet and she’s fucked it. again.

“if you regret kissing me just say it. i can take it. m’a big girl.”

matty stares at elle. long enough that she can feel his eyes burning holes into the side of her face. her head spins again, resonating within her brain is the sound of silence. its loud, overpowering her racing thoughts. she wants him to say something, anything. matty could recite the abc’s to her and she would be content.

“say something.”

he flicks the butt of his finished cigarette to the ground. if it were any other person, she would have scolded them for littering, chastise them until they picked it up. but matty did it in a way that had her heart racing. his eyes coast over her when she finally looks at him again. her own eyes plea with him. elle needs him to say something, wants to hear the words that will finally put the nail in the coffin. if he rejects her maybe all those years of pining and going after guys that look and act like him will be in the past. maybe she can move on from the love sick crush she’s been harboring for so long. maybe.

“eleanor daniel, are you dense?”

“what?”

matty’s frame looms over her, pressing her body up against the wall as if he needed her to stabilize him, “i asked if you were dense.”

she’s never seen him look at her that way before.

“i don’t know what you’re getting on about, matty,” elle gulps. she can feel her heart beating in her throat; a rhythmic thumping that she’s positive he can hear from how close he is to her. his hand comes to rest at the base of her neck, thumb stroking over the heated skin, “just wish you would stop being so mean to me.”

“i don’t hate you. i want you, elle,” he exhales, “so fucking badly that it’s killing me knowing i can’t have you.”

its her turn to be struck into silence, chest rising and falling slowly under the weight of his palm. her tongue juts out to flick over her bottom lip, blinking slowly.

“you what?”

“you’ve been plaguing my thoughts since the last time i’ve seen you. but it can’t happen again,” matty murmurs, voice falling just above a whisper, “it shouldn’t have even happened the first time. you were crossed, didn’t want that to be the first time i kissed you.”

“you’ve been thinking about kissing me?”

“do you only speak in questions?”

“only when it comes to you.”

they stand in a comforting silence, though its tensed by the way his hand slides down from her neck to the curve of her waist. its slow, sensual and leaves a trail of goosebumps on her exposed skin. he leans in close to her and elle is almost convinced that he’s about to seal the space between them by pressing his lips against her own. the very lips she’s thought about at least ten times a day in the weeks following their last kiss. he doesn’t, though. instead he leans to her ear, hushed whispers against the shell of her ear.

“i want to kiss you again, elle. but we can’t.”

she shudders, eyes fluttering closed as he presses a kiss just below her earlobe, “says who?”

“the laws of physics. george.” his voice is muffled as it reverberates against her skin, hand coming to rest on the back of his neck.

“george doesn’t have to know,” she refutes, nails dragging along his skin. he shivers underneath her hold.

its quiet again, aside from the cars that drive past and the occasional melodies escaping from the constant opening and shutting door of the club.

“are you drunk right now?” matty asks, eyes pouring into elle’s as he lifts his gaze. his eyes are dilated, chocolate brown irises almost non-existent in the wake of his enlarged pupils.

she shakes her head, but he pinches at her side.

“n-no. are you?”

“no.”

his lips find hers before she can even find the courage to ask him to do so. its softer than their first kiss, slower and exuding a sense of comfort from their longing. he tastes of the bitter whiskey he had been sipping on the whole evening, yet it was uniquely matty. a taste elle was sure she would never get off the tip of her tongue. his hands wander over her body, falling from her waist to the curve of her ass through her jeans. they settle there, squeezing at swell. her mouth falls open in a gasp and he takes the initiative to slide his tongue between her lips.

elle moans, and that’s when matty’s movements come to a screeching halt. he pulls back hastily though she’s frozen in time, lips still pursed and chin still tilted towards him.

“we can’t do this again,” he hushes, moving his hands from over her jeans to rest at her waist once more.

“matty-” she exhales. she wants to ask him how he can kiss her like that and then decide on his own accord that whatever that just was is to never happen again but he’s quick to cut her off with a bruising kiss. it’s hard. the way his lips collide with her own and the force behind him as he pushes her back up against the cool cobblestone of the wall. the bricks dig into her back, yet elle pays them no mind as she lets herself get lost in the kiss. her hands move from the back of his neck up to the hair at the nape of his neck, twisting and pulling at the unruly curls that habituate there. he groans against her lips, gripping at the bare skin of her side. elle’s almost certain that there will be moon shaped marks left tomorrow but she has half a mind to care.

the marks would prove to her that this was real.

–

its late. its late and the impending sound of her alarm is enough to make elle question her own sanity as to why she’s staring at the cracks in the ceiling instead of sleeping peacefully. she rolls over and reaches for the phone that’s plugged in beside the makeshift bed, eyes squinting as she tries to make sense of the bright screen. 2:04. groaning, she tosses the device aside. instead of peacefully falling among the pillows, it clatters to the floor, the noise disturbing the otherwise serene apartment. getting up to grab it would ruin the promise of sleep, yet she was feeling rather thirsty and with the kitchen only a few strides away maybe it made sense to lazily remove herself from the warm blankets. she’s pulling herself up with a sigh, fetching the phone from the floor and gently placing it on the arm of the couch, and makes her way to the kitchen. her steps are lithe and careful, not wanting to ruin the sound sleep of the two other occupants.

her back is to the threshold, hands nimbly searching the familiar scuffed cabinets for a glass. she retrieves one, hips swaying to an unsung melody that ricochets through her head along with thoughts about matty and the events of the past few nights. the longing and the waiting and the kiss, how could she forget about the kiss? there’s still a phantom memory of it that lingers along her lips, almost as if he wanted her to remember. did he want her to remember? or was the “this can’t happen again” that he uttered true? and if that were true why did he look at her like that before? why did his body encapsulate her up against the wall? why did he breathe down her neck to elicit goosebumps? why did he avoid her at dinner? why does he barely hold a conversation? why-

“can’t sleep?”

elle jumps, soft shriek falling from her lips. she snaps her head around, eyes locking in on the culprit in the dimly lit room. matty, of course. he looks like a vision; sleep stained eyes, hair awry on the top of his head and hips adorned with low hung pajama pants. her heart races and she’s not too sure if its from the man stood before her or the way he invaded her thoughts. he always invades her thoughts.

“hasn’t anyone ever told you its rude to sneak up on people, matthew?” she chides, setting the glassware down on the counter beside her.

“hasn’t anyone told you that its rude to leave people hanging, eleanor?” he counters, arms coming to cross over his chest.

“you’re the one who said that it couldn’t happen again. i was just seeing to that,” she utters and takes a step towards him.

he scoffs and with a roll of his eyes he follows her lead, stepping forward as well. his eyes trace down to her hips, lingering on the curve there. elle usually cowers under his stare, but this time she feels a sense of bravado wash over her. he’s not as intimidating as he thinks he is.

“i’m not drunk,” she urges, arms tentatively reaching out towards him. elle half expects matty to shove her away, “or high for that matter.”

but with another step forward, he’s got her backed into the counter, “neither am i.”

elle swallows thickly, her throat feeling constrained under his darkened gaze. he looks starved, depleted of whatever she was offering and she wanted to give it to him, regardless of the implications at hand.

“so kiss me.” her voice is barely audible over the sound of their labored breaths.

“what was that? couldn’t hear you, sweets.” his hand rises to rest at the base of her neck, almost possessively. it matches the heat in his glance and elicits a wave of fire beneath her skin.

“i said kiss-”

before elle can finish her request, matty’s lips crash into hers. they fill in the void that was once left behind, molding and pulling. there’s sparks reverberating through her skin, clawing through her bloodstream. this kiss feels different. for what it lacks in the awkward learning of what makes the other tick, it’s garnered the all expansive exploration of putting those pieces together. its all teeth and tongue crashing into one another. his teeth dig into her bottom lip, tugging at the tender flesh. a surprised gasp falls from her occupied lips, granting matty the access he needs to slip his tongue into her mouth. elle presses herself up against him in an attempt to pull him impossibly closer.

the counter digs into her back as matty’s hands roam all over her body through the thin t-shirt she’s adorned with. she needs more, craves more to dull the ache that’s overtaking her from within. as if he’s read her mind, matty’s knee pushes it’s way between her legs and presses deliciously into her heated center. with a swivel of her hips, she’s overtaken by a radiation of pleasure. it’s a small wave washing over her, but its enough to satiate the climbing impatience that’s growing inside of her. she feels his leg prop up more, an invitation for her to buck and grind against his knee as much as she likes. and she does. over and over, building a rhythm that has her aching for more.

“can feel you soaking my knee through these sorry excuse for shorts, darling.” he groans against her lips.

all she can do is whine, digging her hips a little deeper. maybe if she shifted up a little more-

“i’ll give you what you need, sweet girl. just be patient.”

she’s been patient for weeks on end, having to pretend that the desire bubbling deep within her was nothing more than a farce. it takes everything in her not to whine, though she’s pretty positive he would like it more if she did, as he pulls away.

“get on the counter,” he utters. there’s a commanding tone though his voice is nothing more than a whisper. elle stands there, stunned into silence and paralyzed with want. her breaths are baited, eyes tracing over his face for a few times. everything seems to set in at that moment: what she was doing, who she was doing it with, the proximity of her brother, the nagging feeling in her chest and the desire pooling in her core. she feels like she could melt into the floorboards, be washed away with the rain. the feeling of his lips linger on her own, she still feels the traces of him in her hair.

“did i stutter? or do you need me to do that for you, too?”

her mouth opens but nothing comes out in time.

their tryst is up as the sound of a door being swung open pulls them from the heated embrace. matty steps away, quickly and for the first time in all the years that she’s known him, elle can see a trace of fear on his face. he's breathing heavily and situating himself a few paces away from her heated body. elle is positive her own reaction mirrors his as george pokes his head into the kitchen.

“all right?” he yawns, “so fucking dark in here. we pay the electric bill for a reason.” his large hand reaches around to flip the light on, leaving all three of them to blink blearily.

elle grabs the once abandoned cup from the counter, chugging down the rest of the water. it all feels too much: matty consuming her with his heated stare, wearing the remnants of her arousal on his knee while george is a few centimeters away drinking orange juice from the carton. the silence is unbearable, eating her alive bit by bit until she’s nothing more than a mess of herself- fragmented and torn to pieces.

“as fun as this has been, i have to piss. goodnight again,” george presses a sticky kiss to elle’s forehead and is off, venturing into the dark of the living room.

elle doesn’t exhale until she hears the door to the bathroom shut.

“see you in my dreams, ellie belly,” matty hums while offering her a whimsical smirk before he stalks off as well.

this is sick. sick and twisted and if elle was the tiniest bit religious, she would be on her knees right now begging for forgiveness. she should be sleeping, blissfully surrendering to the lulls of peace. but instead, she’s thinking about animalistic groans, the pressure between her legs and a mop of curly hair. the kitchen is cold and lonely without the heat of his body pressed against her. there’s a phantom of his knee lingering between her legs. she could cry, which seems to be the only thing matty’s been good at making her do recently.

a door shuts in the distance, and with it closes the small opening she had. the floor looks like a promising place to crumble up and wallow.

but it’s late and the red numbers on the microwave only burn an unwanted reminder into her brain that she has to be up in a few hours. as she rounds the corner between the kitchen and the living area that she was residing in, her eyes fall to the slightly ajar nature of matty’s door. she gulps. it’s never been left open before, especially not this late at night. because he usually has a girl over, her conscious reminds her. she could be such a bitch sometimes. elle chews on the inside of her lip. what if he just forgot to close it? what if he’s not in there? what if he really meant it couldn’t happen again?

she toys with the idea of just going back to sleep, though she knows that sleep won’t come easy and the promise of being able to get off with matty is more enticing than the comfort those pillows would offer her. maybe he would let her grind up against his knee again, or dip his head between her thighs and use that sinful mouth on her until she was shaking.

her legs carry her through the door before she can construe another miscalculated scenario in her mind. chest rising and falling as she pushes the door shut behind her, hand gripping onto the handle like her life depended on it. she had half a mind to twist the door open again and slip out, hoping he didn’t notice her. she could play it off like she thought it was the bathroom. she could pretend that she was confused or sleep walking or-

“thought i would be able to call your bluff,” he grins wryly once the door is shut. elle spins around to stare up at him, breath caught in her throat. he’s lost the shirt he was wearing before, plaid pajama pants hanging low on his waist. her eyes dare to travel from his waist, but she doesn’t know if she has the strength to keep off of him if she does.

they’re at a stand-off; squared away and facing each other. elle’s mind is spinning out fantasies about what it would be like to be one of the girls that gets to spend the night tucked away behind these four walls. and by the way he’s staring at her, she feels as if she’s been caught. she wouldn’t put it past him to be able to read her mind.

“just wanted to bring you water,” she blushes, offering him a sheepish smile.

“you don’t have any water in your hand, elle.” matty comments from his stance in front of his dresser, arms crossing over his chest and head tilting to the side.

she feels exposed, shying away from his gaze and turning around to face the now closed door once more in an attempt to make a run for it. maybe this was a mistake, a bad idea shrouded by the thoughts of matty and his devilish grin.

“oh. silly me, must have forgotten it i-”

“you didn’t come to bring me water, did you? you came here to finish what we started, hm?” he’s pressed up behind her. his lips are on her neck, pulling a breathy sigh of his name from her mouth, “use your words, elle.”

she could fold right there. his tongue pokes out and licks a trail up to her ear, “i’m waiting, sweet girl.”

but how could she think let alone speak with the way he’s touching her and kissing her and making a mess of her brain. her thoughts feel scrambled and mushed together. she melts into his stance, mewling lowly. every nerve ending in her body feels as if its aflame. there’s no way to extinguish it alone, at least not with the way he’s dragging his fingers around her thigh and sucking deep welts onto the exposed skin of her neck.

“please i’m so-” his fingers trail up her thigh, pushing the lame excuse of shorts to the side. skilled fingers find her clit, rubbing slow circles over the sensitive bud. she whines, head falling back into his shoulder. its the relief she needed, craved even. but she needs more, wants more.

“wet. you’re so fucking wet for me, dirty girl,” his teeth pull at her earlobe as he finishes her stuttered thought, “is this what you wanted? hm?”

“yes, want- fuck, want,” his pace on her clit increases, head feeling heavy.

she moans lowly, reaching down to grip at his wrist. he lets her, watching her blissfully as she puppeteers his hand against her cunt.

“feels good, doesn’t it?” matty grins. all elle can do is sigh out a whine, squeezing her eyes shut. her nails dig into his wrist, “i know, pretty girl, i know. need you to be quiet for me. can you do that?”

she nods, bottom lip tucked between her teeth.

“being so good for me,” matty’s lips drag down her neck, teeth scraping over the bruised area from before. an unabashed moan falls from her lips. he’s quick to turn her head towards him though, sealing his lips to hers in a heated kiss. the last thing they both need is an intrusion from the other house guest.

he swaps his fingers for his thumb, using the leverage to slip a finger inside of her. she clenches around him, the action going straight to his untouched dick that’s hidden within the confines of his pajama pants. elle feels it pressing up against the swell of her ass.

“matty,” she mewls against his lips. its hard to think with the way his finger dips in and out of her, almost in time with the motions of his thumb on her clit. she’s writhing against him, legs feeling as if they could give out any moment.

his long finger slides in and out with ease, toying and teasing at her silky cunt. she nips at his bottom lip, tugging the plush flesh in between her teeth. a low moan rumbles up from his chest, and elle’s convinced its the prettiest sound she’s ever heard. the sound is imprinted in the depths of her brain, something she knows she’ll think about for the rest of her life.

“think you can handle another?” he puffs out, slowly pulling his lips back from her to search her face for approval.

she nods quickly, mouth falling agape as he adds another finger. his fingers work in and out of her at a blinding pace. his own mouth falls open as he mirrors her face, watching her only a moment before he’s pressing his lips back to hers to capture all of the broken moans that slip into the air.

elle’s facade is crumbling, quickly. a familiar yet distant burn brewing in the depths of her stomach, a rubber band that's almost ready to snap. matty adds a third finger. elle hisses at the blissful stretch, eyes rolling back into her skull. she’s done for.

“you’re still such a needy thing, aren’t you?” his teeth drag along her neck, trailing a line straight to her jaw. he presses heated kisses along her jawline. his fingers hook up inside of her. and that’s when he finds it.

if elle was in heaven before this had to have been the vip club. a choked sob lingers in the air, cunt clenching around his fingers.

“right there,” she chants the syllables over and over like an oath, the words floating out in the heated space between them. and who is matty to deprive her when she looks so pretty begging like that? his fingers dip in and out, finding the exact spot each time. her knees wobble, hand gripping onto his shoulder for support.

“gonna fucking dream about the way you’re clenching on my fingers like this. letting me fuck you like a good girl,” he moans into her ear. its almost too much between his fingers deep inside of her, the sinful whispers in her ear and the sound of her arousal filling the room. she’s close, the rubberband stretching thin as she’s about to snap.

“you close?” he asks. she nods languidly and he hums out his approval, “you wanna cum?”

elle nods again, almost scared to let herself speak. she’s so close, can practically taste the promise of the sweet release. another moan of his name falls from her lips, she feels him shudder from behind her. eyes squeezed shut, in total euphoria.

“open your eyes, elle,” he husks into her ear, “want you to watch yourself as you cum.”

elle’s eyes open slowly, locking with the eyes of her reflection in the mirror. she’s never seen herself like this before; cheeks flushed, eyes wild, lips swollen. she looks as fucked out as she feels. its the image of matty behind her, his own lips parted and hushing the filthiest sayings into her ear that has her clenching tightly around his fingers and choking out an almost too-loud moan of his name. he shushes her, working her through her release with a soothing kiss to her lips whilst he slows down the onslaught of his fingers. his unoccupied arms wraps around her quivering body, holding her upright as she gets rocked by wave after wave.

“so good, sweets. you did so good for me,” he coos, kissing at her cheek. matty slips his fingers out from her, leaving elle to whine at the loss of fullness. he laughs. elle half expects him to wipe his fingers on the strewn towel on the back of his door. that’s what every other guy has done before, at least.

he doesn’t though. instead he pops the digits into his mouth, sucking off her liquid arousal from his fingers. she stares at him, wide-eyed as he moans around his own fingers. matty’s eyes pour into her own. she finds it hard to catch her breath.

“taste even sweeter than i imagined,” he smirks at her dumbfounded expression, “oh, sorry. should i have offered you one? s’kinda greedy of me that i took all three for myself.”

“oh. uh.. no. no thanks,” elle blinks blearily, swallowing thickly, “i’m uh… i’m gonna go uh.. clean up and head to bed. thanks for that.”

“not a problem. anytime you want another mind-numbing orgasm, you know where to find me,” he grins cockily.

elle’s cheeks sting but she can’t fight back the smile that’s curling on her lips, “sure thing.”

she smooths the hem of her shorts down, blinking a few more times as she hastily walks towards the door. there’s no way in hell that that just happened. it was something ripped straight from her thoughts, a mirrored image of the way she’s been thinking about him for weeks. her chest rises and falls quickly, hand reaching for the door knob. she needs to lay down immediately.

“oh and elle?,” he calls just as her hand comes in contact with the cool metal of the handle.

she tilts her head towards him, “hmm?”

“i meant it when i say i’ll dream of you,” he offers with a smirk and pink tinted cheeks.

and in that moment, elle know she’s going to dream of him too.

#matty healy smut #matty healy x oc smut #bbf!matty #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #im scared to tag this because he lurks and i just know he'll find it #sorry for the wait #sorry for a lot of things #but this .... was a beast of a chapter #retiring from writing as we speak #<3

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