#Devil Wears a Suit and Tie fic

[flkwh0re]

The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie.

Contains smut.

Warnings: Readers age is not specified but she is of age, Homophobia, Blood, Puking (reader only does it once while crying), Abuse, Mentions of death, Breif thoughts of suicide, Religion, Use of a slur (once), Nat gaslights reader, Nat punches reader to knock her out, Blasphemy, Dubcon (Nat begins to fuck reader while she’s unconscious then reader wakes up and tries to fight it but eventually gives in), Fingering, Dumbification(-ish???)

Wc: 1,713

A/n: Please listen to Preachers Daughter by Ethel Cain to get the whole ideal feeling of this fic. As a woman who grew up in the south and the church, this album hits really well. Also inspired by the song ‘The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie’ By Colter Wall!

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It started off with your father finding out from the woman you trusted most, Carol Danvers. How could she rat you out like that to your father like that? She was your best friend, the only person who knew about your secret.

No one close to you expected you to be a lesbian, even if they called you a fag or said the way you dressed was weird, the way you acted.

He had come home in a fit rage, busting the front door down. You were sure it came off the hinges. Before you knew it, you were backed into the corner, body aching from the blows you had taken, your throat hoarse from the shouting.

You finally found the courage to run and lock yourself in your room, quickly packing a backpack. Throwing in some clothes, shoes, items dear to you, essentials, and a book.

You unfastened the window, punching through the window screen. You hiked your leg out the window and dropped down. To your dismay, your father saw you.

He bolted out the door, and you quickly jumped onto your bike. pedaling as hard as you could, trying to escape the man you feared more than God.

Your dad hadn’t always been like this, he was always more understanding. When your mother died though, he changed. He began to drink and become terribly abusive. His narcissistic behavior only worsened when he ‘strengthened his faith.’

Your breathing became uneven and ragged, exhaustion consuming your overwhelmed body. You finally gave out running off the side of the road, you slid down a hill, bumping into every rock possibly.

Once you were able to stand, blood dripped down your legs and arms. Small amounts also trickled down your face, along with sweat. Dirt and grime coated your body thickly.

You took off to a bridge you saw, climbing up under it, hoping to hide there for a few hours. You heard the loud thuds of your father's footsteps, your heart pounding with each step. He discovered your slightly mangled bike against a tree, and once he realized you were gone, he cried. You’d not heard him cry since your mother's funeral, it almost made you come out of hiding. You knew his sorrow wouldn’t last, the moment it dispersed he’d be the same man as always.

Your father had finally given up his search for you, not like he cared much anyway. His daughter was ‘one of them queers’ as he’d say. He couldn’t stand people like that, but you were his daughter. He needed to find you, he needed to help you. He knew a woman, Natasha Romanoff.

Natasha was the pastor of the local church. She hadn’t been preaching there for a while, but in her short time she’s ‘helped’ so many young men and women. Now of course her time was spent more catered towards teenagers, but she would be more than willing to help you.

Once night settled in, darkness clouded your eyes. You knew your father wouldn’t get anyone out to look for you, so you figured you’d move at night. You had to get away, and fast.

You stepped onto the main road, your small flashlight in hand that barely worked. The thick mid-June air made sweat slick your body as you walked along the gravel road. No one to your knowledge loved this way, or so you thought.

You followed the small road for what felt like an eternity, your thin tank top clung thickly to your skin. Your overheated weary body fell to the ground, you slumped over laying on your side. Salty hot tears spilled down your face. Thoughts of hatred filled your mind.

How could you disappoint your father like this? How could you betray god like this? a you felt disgusted, so disgusted that as your tears ran you began to heave. Thick bile spilled from your mouth.

If only you could just stop it all, end all your suffering right now. You wouldn’t even hesitate.

You had laid in the spot for what felt like hours, wishing some animal would find you. What found you was even worse.

The sound of a car engine, and squeaky breaks stirred you. Bright headlights blinded you. You wanted to run, you figured now someone had found you and would return you to your father.

The soft crunches of gravel echoed in your ears; a figure approached you. They leaned down and you got a good look at her face. Natasha Romanoff.

“Hey sweetheart, what in the world are you doing out here? What’s happened to ya? Oh my goodness, you’re all bloody laying in a mess of vomit. Let me get you to my house” As she tried to help you to her car you kicked and squirmed.

Loud cries of no came from you, and Natasha was beginning to become impatient. As you thrashed your body around, trying to escape the woman who would bring you to your doom, you speared blood on her spotless suit. She finally had it with you, her fist struck a heavy blow across your face. Your mind went foggy and your eyes dizzy, eventually you lost consciousness.

“If you would’ve just cooperated, I wouldn’t have had to do that.” Natasha said through gritted teeth. She picked up your limp body and carried you to her truck, softly placing you in the seats next to her.

She drove down the road until she reached another small road, turning down it. No one knew about her second life, her home hidden away in the woods. She wasn’t who everyone thought she was. In fact, she was what everyone deemed evil.

She pulled up next to a small trailer house and stepped out of her truck. Natasha stepped around to the other side, pulled you into her arms carrying you bridle style into the house. She brought you to a broken-down couch that reeked of cigarettes.

Natasha walked off to her small room to change out of her dirty, bloodied clothes. She trudged to small refrigerator to grab a beer, cracking it open and taking a big drink.

As she made her way to the couch where you were, an idea popped in her head. She peeled your tank top off your body, revealing your bra. She examined your chest and stomach, dried blood and dirt smeared on your delicate skin.

Natasha unclipped your bra, slipping it off your arms throwing it off. Her hands grope at the soft flesh of your chest. She kneels down, so she can get closer to your breast. Her mouth latches onto your nipple, licking and sucking.

You began to finally regain consciousness, once you realized what was happening your eyes shot open. “No stop! Get off of me!” You shouted, trying to wrestle the older woman off you. She grabbed your wrist in her hand, pinned them onto the arm rest of the couch.

“No baby, you need me. See.” She slipped her hand into your shirt, gathering your slick on her fingers. She removed them and showed you her fingers wet with your arousal, “See baby, now be a good girl and let me fuck you.”

Her hands unbuttoned your shorts and slipped back into your panties. Her rough fingers rubbed at your clit, then she slipped two into your dripping cunt.

A loud cry and moan left your mouth, tears spilled from your eyes. “See baby, it feels so good doesn’t it. Tell me it feels good.” She rasped as she pumped her fingers in and out of you. You weakly nod your head, but Natasha wasn’t satisfied. “No, I want words. I want to hear you say it feels good.”

“Fuck! I-it feels good Natasha.” She chuckled, “Such a dirty mouth.” She curled her fingers up into the right spot, your legs trembled and your back arched up into her. “Fuck ‘m goin’ to cum!” You moaned out, as your juices gushed onto Natasha’s fingers.

She slipped her fingers into her mouth, sucking off your slick and moaning around her digits at your taste. “Fuck baby, you taste so good. I wanna taste you from the source, but we can do that another time. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You nodded and she helped you stand. You laid your head on her shoulder as she walked you to the bathroom. She readied the water as you slipped yourself out of your shorts. You couldn’t believe you were giving into her; she was so tempting you couldn’t even fathom saying no to her. Like a presence luring you in, like the devil themself.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about pretty girl?” She asked you. “Nothin’.. thank you thought. For this, it’s real kind of you.” She smiled, “Oh it’s nothin’ darlin’, it’s my job.”

You slipped into the warm water, and Natasha began to scrub the dirt off you. She’d give you the occasional kiss on your face, she just couldn’t help it. She’d had her eye on you for a while, she got pretty lucky tonight.

“I’ll keep you safe, don’t worry.” She spoke up, “What?” You questioned her, how would she know? “Your father already spoke to me, but don’t worry. Stay here with me, let me take care of you. I won’t say a word to him.” You nodded, “Okay, promise?” She grinned, “I promise.” She placed as soft kiss of your head, then pulled the plug.

Natasha wrapped the towel around your body and took you to her room. “Here why don’t you put these on, and I’ll grab you a sandwich. Is peanut butter okay?” You smiled and nodded.

Once you had put the clothes on she gave you, Natasha had returned with a bottle of water and the sandwich. “Eat this then we can go to bed, I bet you’re exhausted.” She said as she got into bed, motioning for you to join her. “I am.”

You finished eating, and snuggled up with Nat. She hummed you to sleep, whispering sweet nothings to you. She placed a kiss on your scalp and spoke soft words, “I won’t let anything hurt you.”

You felt safe with Natasha, you still weren’t sure what changed in you. You knew you could finally be comfortable with your life though.

Masterlist

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ a christmas surprise ] j. hughes & n. hischier

day twelve of malia’s christmas fic marathon

paring : Jack Hughes x fem!reader x Nico Hischier

summary : Jack sees the way (Y/N) is looking at Nico at the Devils Christmas party and makes an interesting proposal that neither of them can resist

warning(s) : smut ! approved cheating ? (idk if that's a thing but it's a thing for this fic), threesome, slight sub!reader, pet names during sex, oral (m&f receiving), fingering, protected and unprotected penetrative sex, multiple orgasms

author’s note : had to go all out for the last fic of the christmas marathon. my gift to y’all. merry (belated) christmas if you celebrate. i give to you, the finale of the christmas fic marathon ! this took me a lot longer to write than i thought but here y'all go

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She had no idea what to expect when she walked into the rental hall for the Devils Christmas party with her boyfriend of two years. She knows that Jack, Luke, Nico, Dawson, and Jesper decorated the whole thing, but she's surprised at how well it's actually decorated.

Everyone is either wearing red or back, which makes sense considering the Devils' colors are red and black. She thought there would be more green worn since it is the day after Christmas. A lot of the guys are wearing one of their arrival suits with crazy ties.

Jack isn't though. He has on one of his arrival suits and a black tie. He didn't go all out in his outfit but he did with the decor.

"Wow, Jack," she gasps when she walks into the hall. "Looks good. I had doubts."

He looks offended as (Y/N) greets him with a very quick kiss. "Ouch, baby," he says as he feigns chest pain. "That hurt."

"I mean, the oldest one out of the five of you that decorated is only 25," she defends. "Sorry if I had a few doubts about a bunch of mid to young twenty-year-olds decorating for a Christmas party. Luke also just left college in May so excuse me for being worried about how it would look with you guys decorating."

Jack drapes an arm around her shoulders and smiles. "We had our captain with us," he comments. "We were in good hands, (Y/N). He kept ordering us around and telling us where things should go. Merc even got yelled at in Swiss-German because Nico got so frustrated with us at one point."

She smiles as she walks further into the large room. "I wish I could've seen that," she laughs. "That sounds like a very Nico thing to do."

"What sounds like a very Nico thing to do?" a accented voice says from behind (Y/N). She freezes mid-step and turns with Jack to look at Nico Hischier.

"You yelling at Dawson in Swiss-German while we were decorating," Jack answers for her. No words form on her lips as she looks Nico up and down when a smile forms on his lips. She swears her cheeks get hot when he looks over at her.

She has no idea why she gets tongue-tied around the Swiss captain. He's been around since she and Jack started dating. She should be used to seeing him and talking to him by now.

Maybe it's that damn accent or the fact that there are no words in the English language that could describe how hot he looks in his suit and fresh haircut. The dimple that forms when he smiles makes her lose her mind every single time.

If she weren't dating Jack, she'd absolutely go for his captain. She's always had a thing for European guys.

"Well, it was frustrating that he wasn't listening," Nico says, pulling her out of her head. "You know when I get frustrated, I switch languages. It's something that's always happened. Sometimes it's out of my control."

"I'm well aware," Jack laughs, completely unaware that his girlfriend is checking out his captain, or that his captain is checking out his girlfriend.

It's something that started very recently, and neither of them have acted on their thoughts. (Y/N) is very much in love with Jack, but she is allowed to look at other men. As long as she doesn't act on the thoughts she has about other men.

An arm wraps around her waist and she looks up at Jack. "Why don't you go get us drinks and maybe something to eat?" he suggests. "I need to talk to Nico about some strategies for our next game against Columbus."

She nods and spares one last glance at Nico before walking off. She finds the area with the drinks and food. She makes a plate for them to share and orders them both a drink from the bar.

When she turns around with their plate of food and their drinks, she sees that Jack and Nico are still very deep in conversation. Nico looks surprised and confused at whatever Jack is saying to him. Nico does glance over at her then quickly looks away from her and back at Jack.

He nods at something Jack said before Jack turns and walks over to her. He takes one of the drinks and (Y/N) asks, "What was that about? It looked like a much different conversation than strategies about the game with the way Nico looked."

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it," Jack tells her with a soft kiss to her temple. "Just know that it was a very good and informative conversation between a captain and his alternate. That's all you need to know right now. Let's go eat, yeah?"

She nods and they find a table with Dougie, Erik, Vitek, and their significant others so they can eat. She enjoys the meatball hoagie she made for herself and Jack enjoys the piece of steak she grabbed for him.

The two of them make small conversations with each other and with the people at their table. Dougie compliments Jack on how good the decorations look and he talks all about how fun it was to decorate with Luke, Nico, Dawson, and Jesper.

(Y/N) doesn't realize it at first but her eyes scan the room looking for Nico the first time Jack mentions the captain. She's surprised when she doesn't find him anywhere. She hasn't seen him since he walked away from Jack nearly ten minutes ago now.

"Hey, Jack," she says to grab his attention. He looks over at her. "Have you seen Nico? He's nowhere to be found."

Jack blinks at his girlfriend. "Why are you looking for Nico?" he asks.

"It's just weird that I haven't seen him," she explains. "He's usually walking around and talking to everyone but I haven't seen him since he walked away from the conversation with you."

He swallows a bite of his food and says, "He said something about going to the bathroom. He's probably still there."

She's confused by how Jack is being so casual about his MIA captain. A teammate would go find him and make sure he's okay.

(Y/N) stands up when Jack goes back to talking with Dougie, Erik, and Vitek. She makes her way towards the bathrooms. Dawson walks out of the men's room and she grabs him. "Is Nico in there?" she asks. "Jack said he might be in there."

"Yeah, he's in there," he tells her. "He's freaking out about something but won't tell me what. Where's Jack? I wanna talk to him."

"At the table with Dougie, Erik, and Vitek," she replies. "They're talking about the decorations actually so if you want to go and brag, there you go."

Dawson smiles and heads into the main room.

(Y/N) hesitates for a moment before she slowly pushes open the door to the men's room. She peeks her head in and sees Nico leaning with his hands against the sink counter. His head is down, but he seems to be the only one in the bathroom so she walks in.

The door closing behind her gets Nico's attention. He blinks a couple of times before before he realizes that she's standing in the bathroom with him. "What are you doing in here?" he asks. "Where's Jack?"

"That seems to be a really popular question," she says with a smile on her face. The smile falters when she realizes he's being serious. "He's talking to Dougie, Erik, Vitek, and now probably Dawson. He said you might be in here so I came to check on you to make sure you're okay."

Nico still seems confused as to why she is standing in front of him instead of Jack. "Did he tell you?" he questions.

Now it's her turn to be confused. "Tell me what?" she asks. "He didn't tell me anything. He's actually being really weird and refused to come see if you were okay when I realized you haven't been seen in like ten minutes. Then Dawson said you were panicking about something so that really had me worried. I needed to come check on you."

He leans against the counter and crosses his arms across his chest. He's taken his suit jacket off and she can't help but look at how the button-up hugs his arms in all the right places. She presses her lips into a line so she doesn't say anything.

The captain squints his eyes at her and says, "I think you should talk to him about the conversation we had. I shouldn't be the one to tell you."

"Now you're being weird," she comments. "Why is everyone being so weird recently? I am really not a fan of-"

Nico crosses the floor in four large strides and pulls her by the back of her neck into a deep kiss, cutting her off from whatever she was about to say.

She gives in because she's always wondered what it would be like to kiss Nico. He's an attractive guy and she's always thought he was attractive.

The dark hair that he's let grow long enough to cover his forehead and form a curtain over his eyes when he looks down. Her fingers play with the ends of his locks on the back of his neck. The dimple in his cheek every time he smiles makes her weak in the knees sometimes. The deep, accented voice makes her wish that she got to hear how it sounds in bed.

She kisses him back after a lapse in her judgement.

The shock of the initial kiss wears off and Nico walks until (Y/N)'s lower back is pressed against the same sink he was leaning on five minutes ago. The kisses exchanged between them are feverish and desperate.

His free hand rests on her waist and she moves to grip the collar of his shirt so he doesn’t move away from her. Nico shoves a thigh between her legs and she has to refrain from grinding against it.

All she wants is to get some pressure on her core, but she doesn’t want this to be over so soon. If she starts to grind on Nico’s thigh, she’ll be coming in seconds.

She jumps up onto the counter behind her because her neck is starting to hurt from craning it to kiss him. His hand slides down to her thigh, his fingers dipping below the skirt of the dress that she’s wearing. She hooks her legs around his waist, and she feels something poke her upper thigh.

A door opens beside them and (Y/N) breaks the kiss to look at whoever walked in the door.

It’s Jack.

Her eyes widen and she pushes Nico away from her. “I-” she begins to say before Jack waves his hand to cut her off. She closes her mouth and tries not to cry.

The realization of what just happened sinks in the longer Jack stays quiet. She cheated on him with his captain. It doesn’t surprise her that he hasn’t said anything. He just looks between the two of them.

“Does she know?” Jack asks, looking behind her at Nico.

“I haven’t told her yet,” Nico says. She turns and looks at him. She’s surprised to find that he doesn’t look terrified at the fact that Jack caught them making out in the men’s bathroom.

Jack’s eyes flicker back to her. “Why do you look like you’re about to cry, baby?” he asks as he walks toward her.

A very surprised and confused (Y/N) says, “You just saw me kissing Nico. Heavily kissing Nico. You caught me cheating on you with your teammate, Jack.”

Through the tears in her eyes, she sees Jack smile. “The conversation with Nico was to tell him that it was okay if he did anything with you,” he tells her. “I’ve seen the way the two of you look at each other. It was obvious that you both were thinking the same thing.”

“But-”

“And I offered for him to join us in our bed tonight,” Jack admits, cutting her off. He brushes a piece of hair away from her face and tucks it behind her ear. “If it’s alright with you, of course. If it’s too much then you don’t have to but I don’t mind sharing you tonight and see where it takes us.”

She blinks away the tears and looks back at a flustered and slightly disheveled Nico. He has a small smile on his face as she realizes that it was okay. Nico knew it was okay to kiss her, and she’s going to get both of them as soon as they leave.

The thought of the two of them working together to take her apart is nearly enough for her to say that they should leave the party right now. The only reason she doesn’t is because they are both leaders of the team and can’t just up and leave just as the party is beginning.

“Jack, if you felt pressured to do this because you think I want this, I-”

“I want you to be happy, (Y/N),” Jack assures her. He cups her jaw in his hands. “It’s Christmas so I thought it would be a nice surprise for you. Plus, Nico is one of my best friends so if I’m going to share you with anyone, I’d like it to be him. You look at him the same way you look at me. I’d figure that I’d give this a try.”

She looks back at Nico, who hasn’t moved but keeps the smile on his face. “I’m okay with this,” he tells her. “Jack basically made me admit to him that I want to fuck you and he said that it was okay. If you don’t want this or if you aren’t okay with this then tell us and we don’t have to do anything.”

The thing is that she has wanted to get fucked by Nico. She just didn’t know how badly she wanted it until the opportunity presented itself.

“When can we leave?”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Jack and Nico make some excuse as to why they have to leave the party. (Y/N) is just along for the ride. Her body is already buzzing with anticipation of what will happen when they get to the apartment she and Jack share.

It takes nearly fifteen minutes for Jack to drive them to the apartment. She sits beside him in the passenger seat while Nico sits in the back behind Jack.

He reaches over the center console about five minutes into the drive and rests a hand on (Y/N)’s exposed thigh, right under the end of the skirt. She looks over at him and smiles. Jack’s eyes stay on the road as he squeezes her thigh. “Such a tease,” she giggles.

“Says you,” Jack replies with a smile on his lips.

She glances back at Nico, whose eyes are on Jack’s hand. His own hand was on her thigh not even a half an hour ago. The bathroom makeout comes back to her full force and her body shakes.

If that’s what Nico can do to her in two minutes, she isn’t ready for when he can take his time with her.

Jack pulls (Y/N) against him as soon as they walk into their shared apartment. She smiles and hears the front door close behind her. Jack looks behind her at Nico and says, "You don't have to just stand there, you know. You can come over. She's yours tonight too and you have my permission to do whatever you want to her as long as she's okay with it."

That's not something that (Y/N) ever expected to hear let alone hear out of Jack's mouth. That she's Nico's tonight too. She gets both of them. Two of the hottest men she's ever seen.

With permission from Jack, Nico takes the few steps over to the two of them. She turns her head and looks back at Nico, whose hands rest on her waist. She noses at his jaw so he looks at her instead of his hands. His curious eyes meet hers and she gives him a small smile.

She feels Jack's fingers on her jaw and he turns her head back to face him. "If you're uncomfortable with something-" he begins to say.

"Shut up and take me to bed," she interrupts. "Please."

He leans in and ravishes her mouth with his. His hands are on her jaw as he kisses her. They eventually slide into her hair and curl into the brown locks. She lets out a soft whine against her boyfriend's lips when she feels Nico's fingers trail down over her waist to her thighs. He presses soft kisses to her jaw and neck.

(Y/N) puts a hand on Jack's chest and pushes him toward their room. She grabs Nico's hand with her free hand and pulls him behind her. The three of them stumble through the dark apartment until they reach the bedroom.

She loses her heels and jacket in the journey to the room while Jack’s shirt gets unbuttoned and Nico loses his suit jacket. Jack picks her up and lays her on the bed as soon as they enter the room.

The kiss breaks in the process and she stares up at the two men in front of her. She bites her swollen lip as she waits for one of them to make a move.

Jack is the one to break the silence between them. “You or me?" he asks.

Nico looks down at her on the bed. "Me," he says, voice thicker than it was before. "My turn." Jack moves aside and lets Nico do whatever he wants.

She's able to smile for about two seconds before Nico crawls up her body and kisses her, continuing where they left off in the bathroom. The kiss is rough and Nico's hand is cupping her jaw. (Y/N) wraps her legs around the Swiss man's waist and digs her heels into the back of his thighs.

He kisses her more deeply than Jack does. Jack is rough, feverish. He constantly ravishes her mouth while Nico, while rough, kisses deeply. He kisses her with intent and lets her know what he wants to do to her.

It surprises her when she realizes that she loves the way they both kiss her.

Her hands run up and down his sides before she reaches between the two of them. With their lips locked, (Y/N) begins to unbutton his shirt. Nico uses his free hand to untuck the shirt from his pants. She shoves it off his body and runs her hands down his arms. His hand run down her thigh then runs up

He's more muscular than Jack is. His arms are bigger and his stomach is more toned. She loves it, but she also loves how Jack is muscular but doesn't completely cover her when he's on top of her.

She is going to get the best of both words tonight, and she cannot wait.

The mattress dips behind her and she feels fingers run through her hair. (Y/N) breaks the kiss and looks up to see Jack sitting on the bed with his fingers in her hair. He's ditched the unbuttoned shirt and suit jacket. Nico's lips attach to her jaw and he trails down her neck to her chest. The dress she's wearing exposes a lot of her cleavage and Nico kisses the exposed skin. Jack leans down and kisses her upside down.

Someone's fingers hook into the thin straps of her red dress and slide them down her arms. Nico pushes the satin fabric to the side and gets his mouth on her nipple. She groans his name against Jack's mouth and he pulls away. She tries to chase his lips but Jack pins her shoulders to the bed.

"Fuck," she sighs when Nico moves to give her other breast some attention. Jack reaches down and gets his hand on the breast that Nico abandoned. She whines when Jack rolls her sensitive nipple between his fingers.

She turns her head to the side notices the bulge in Jack's pants. She reaches behind her and palms him through his pants. She wants to get her hands on him so she blindly tries to get them unbuckled and unbuttoned. "Jack," she whines. "Off."

He moves off the bed so he can get his pants and boxers off. Nico pulls the dress further down her body as Jack sits on the bed. He pulls her against his chest while he leans back against the headboard. The dress comes off her body and Nico throws it to the floor, joining their shirts.

Nico's hungry eyes are on her when Jack moves her legs apart, exposing her ruined panties to the Devils captain. She can feel her core pulse the longer Nico's eyes are on her.

"Pretty, isn't she?" Jack asks as he tucks (Y/N)'s hair behind her ear. A soft hum comes from Nico as he begins to undress. Her eyes rake his body and she wishes that she could touch him.

Jack's fingers trail down over her jaw and neck, between her breasts and down her belly until they reach the waistband of the lace panties. His lips ghost over the swell of her ear. "You're our pretty girl," Jack whispers in her ear

"Our pretty girl," Nico agrees as he climbs onto the bed.

Our pretty girl. She's theirs. Those three words make her entire body shake.

"Come get a taste, Nico," Jack tells his friend. His fingers dip into her panties and he gathers some of the wetness. She watches as he licks up her arousal. "She's ready, like the good girl she is."

Her tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip as a now naked and smiling Nico lays on his stomach. He kisses her inner thighs as Jack turns her head. He kisses her at the same time Nico pushes her underwear to the side.

Nico's tongue runs through her folds and she moans into Jack's mouth. She reaches behind her and wraps one of her hands around his dick. Her other hand flies to Nico's hair when he wraps his lips around her clit and his tongue flicks the sensitive bundle of nerves.

She grinds her hips against Nico's mouth, needing more. She needs so much more.

This feels so much better than she ever thought it would be. Her legs are already shaking and they've only just started. Jack's lips on hers and his hands roaming her naked body. Nico's mouth on her clit. It’s a little overwhelming but it feels amazing.

Then Nico pushes a finger inside of her while his mouth is on her. She gasps and does everything she can not to come just from that. "Fuck," she moans against Jack's mouth. "Nico."

His fingers curl inside of her and her back arches off the bed. She knew he could do a lot of things with his fingers. She didn't know he could do this. Jack’s talented with his fingers, but Nico could have her coming in seconds with his.

(Y/N) breaks the kiss and slides down Jack’s body until she can turn her head and get her mouth on his dick. She licks up the bead of precome that has formed on the tip before she wraps her lips around the fire red tip. A soft groan passes his lips when she begins to move her head.

Every so often, Nico will curl his fingers or suck on her clit and she’ll hum or moan around Jack. Her boyfriend will sigh every time she makes a noise around his cock.

Her body can only hold off an orgasm for so long though. No matter how hard she tries.

The next time Nico curls his fingers in a “come here” motion, she’s coming with Jack’s dick in her mouth and Nico’s fingers in her pussy.

She pulls off Jack's cock and cries out as she comes on Nico's fingers without warning. Her legs shake and she pushes herself against Nico's mouth. She swears she blacks out because of how hard and how suddenly her orgasm hits her.

"Fuck, Nico," she whines as she comes down from her sudden high. She feels him licking up her release and soft sighs pass her lips.

The Swiss captain crawls up her body and captures her lips in a deep but rough kiss. She hums as she tastes herself on his lips. (Y/N) Isn't happy when he pulls away. She watches him lick his lips and smile.

"You taste so good, liebling," he says. She shivers at the use of the nickname. "Fuck, I don't think I'll ever get enough."

A barely there (Y/N) mumbles, "Wanna suck you, Nico."

Nico glances up at Jack, who asks, "Think you can take both of us, baby?" She immediately lifts her head to look up at Jack and frantically nods. Jack smiles at her enthusiasm. "Hands and knees then."

Quickly, she rolls over onto her stomach and does what Jack told her to do. The boys switch their positions. Nico kneels on the bed in front of her while Jack kneels behind her.

She takes Nico's cock in her hand and glances up at him. She knew he had to be packing but she didn't know he'd be this big. She shivers at the idea of him inside of her but takes him in her mouth. Nico gathers her hair into a makeshift ponytail as she begins to move her head.

Behind her, Jack pulls off her panties and runs his dick through her folds, over her already sensitive clit. She hums around Nico's dick as Jack presses into her.

It doesn't feel weird to have Nico's dick in her mouth and Jack's dick inside of her at the same time. She always thought that it would be weird, but it's kind of hot. They're both using her to get off and she's perfectly okay with that. There's already another knot forming in her stomach.

Jack thrusts into her and presses his hands into her lower back. Nico has his fingers in her hair and slowly moves his hips so he's fucking her mouth. Her hand makes up for what she can't fit in her mouth.

"Look at you, (Y/N)," Jack says behind her. "Taking both of us. Such a good girl, isn't she, Nico?"

Nico hums above her and she looks up at him through her eyelashes. "Such a pretty girl taking my cock in her mouth," he replies. "Feels so good.

She screws her eyes shut and just feels. She feels Jack's dick moving in and out of her. She feels herself hollow out her cheeks and suck Nico's dick at the same time Jack moves. They're both thrusting their hips into her and she happily takes whatever they give her.

From behind, Jack leans over her body and presses kisses to her shoulder. She whines around Nico's dick when Jack uses his legs to spread hers further apart. The new angle lets Jack move deeper into her.

"You have no idea how hot you look taking both of us," Jack whispers against her ear. "Fuck, baby. We might have to do this all the time. I think you'd like that. Would you like that?" (Y/N) nods with Nico's cock in her mouth. "I knew you'd like that."

When he gets back on his knees, Jack wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her up to her knees. She whines when Nico's dick slips from her mouth but moans at the new angle. She reaches out for Nico as he says, "Look at you, liebling. Look so pretty getting fucked on your knees."

Her eyes are on Nico in front of her while Jack ravishes her neck with kisses and soft bites. She whines and moans as Jack thrusts into her. Nico crawls up and presses their chests together.

He cups her jaw in his hands and runs his thumbs over her cheekbones while Jack fucks her. Her lips are slightly parted and she lets out soft pants while holding eye contact with Nico.

Nico reaches down between them and gets his fingers on her clit as Jack speeds up his thrusts. "Fuck," she cries out at the pleasure. She gets a hand around Nico's dick and pumps him. Nico kisses her as Jack marks up her neck.

Jack's hands slide around to cup (Y/N)'s breasts. He plays with her nipples and she moans his name against Nico's lips.

She's quickly approaching her second orgasm in about twenty minutes. Her free hand flies to Nico's hair and she holds on for dear life. She's shaky on her knees. Nico realizes this and lays on his back in front of her. Jack lets her go and she's back on her hands and knees. His fingers replace Nico's.

With on hand on Nico's thigh and the other on his dick, she gets her mouth back on him. She sucks harsher than she probably should but Nico enjoys it since he's squirming under her touch.

"Gonna come, baby," Jack pants behind her. "Fuck. Can I fill you?" She hums in approval.

As soon as she feels Jack come inside of her, she's coming around him with a moan. Her vision whites out and she isn't sure what happens after that.

She doesn't know when Jack pulls out or when she collapsed on the bed. Jack is nowhere to be found in the room and Nico is hovering on top of her. He’s kissing her neck and he’s bumping himself to his orgasm.

“Nico, baby,” she breathes out. “Come. Use me to come. It’s okay. Do whatever you want.”

“Wanna fuck you,” he admits. “Please. I’ve waited so long to fuck you, liebling. You don’t have to do anything. Just lay there and look pretty. Take me like the good girl you are.”

She nods and whispers a “yeah”. Nico grabs a condom and uses Jack’s come to slip easily inside of her. She gasps as Nico thrusts slowly into her. She winces from the overstimulation but Nico moves carefully so he doesn’t hurt her.

Their eyes meet and suddenly the moment is more intimate than she expected. She has the urge to confess everything she feels for him.

“Nico, I-”

“I know,” he softly says. His fingers brush over her cheekbones. “Me too. Since day one.”

(Y/N) smiles and leans up to capture Nico’s lips in a kiss. It’s a deep kiss, unlike the other kisses they’ve shared. Unlike the kisses she’s shared with Jack tonight.

Nico’s fingers are on her clit again and she’s barreling toward her third orgasm. She doesn’t know how she’s about to come again, but it doesn’t take long since she’s so overstimulated.

He’s right behind her.

She clenches around him and she’s gone for the third time. Her body goes limp at the same time Nico groans and comes into the condom inside of her.

His head falls beside hers and he rolls off of her so he’s laying on the mattress. She’s a panting, tired mess by the time Jack comes back into the room from the bathroom.

(Y/N) looks over at him with her eyes half closed. Jack cleans her up and the mess around her up before he lies down beside her.

“You okay?” Jack questions. “Not too much?”

She looks at her boyfriend before looking at Nico. When she looks back at Jack, she says, “I wanna do it again. Is that okay?”

Jack looks past her at Nico. “As long as you’re okay with it,” Nico tells Jack.

“I didn’t mind,” he says to the both of them. “Next time though, can the two of you wait for me to be in the room before you fuck?”

A laugh passes Nico’s lips and she tiredly smiles.

“Tomorrow.”

They’re all in agreement as they all fall to sleep. Her head is on Jack’s chest and her legs are intertwined with Nico’s under the blanket.

༺═──────────────═༻

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[honeypiehotchner]

Devil’s Backbone (Unsub!Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part one

It’s the way that I am BURSTING with excitement about posting this fic 😈🫣

Warnings: nothing here really, just talk of Haley and Jack’s deaths

Don’t forget to follow @honeypiehotchnerlibrary and turn on post notifications to be notified when a new chapter is posted!!

One: All along we called it normal — “The News” by Paramore

“Please say your name and rank for the record.” The tape clicks. Across from you, Strauss sighs.

“Supervisory Special Agent Y/N L/N,” you reply confidently, “with the Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico, Virginia.”

“How long have you been with the BAU?” Strauss asks.

“Four years.”

She takes the seat across from you, crossing her legs, and opening a file folder. “Did you work under Agent Hotchner the entire time?”

“Yes ma’am,” you reply, lacing your fingers together on the table. “I did.”

“How would you describe your relationship to Agent Hotchner during this time?”

“Professional,” you say firmly, knowing exactly what she is trying to get you to say. “Strictly professional.”

+++

When Hotch returned to the BAU’s offices, he headed straight into a meeting with Strauss. She didn’t know he was coming, and a meeting wasn’t scheduled, but he knew if he went straight to his office that she’d call for him immediately. He thought he might as well beat her to it.

He stepped off the elevator and turned toward Strauss’s office. She locked eyes with him through the glass walls of her office, her expression frozen in shock.

“What are you doing here?” Strauss asked, right to the point, barely letting Hotch shut the door first.

“I’m here to get back to work,” Hotch replied, just as blunt.

Strauss was unamused. “Did you even think about the retirement offer I showed you?”

“I did. I’m declining it.” It was a nice offer, really, but it made no sense. He’d have more free time than ever before, but he didn’t need free time. He needed to be occupied constantly if he was ever going to make it through this mountain of grief.

“It’s been two weeks,” Strauss stated. “You need a month of bereavement, Aaron. Minimum.”

“You’re getting two weeks,” he said with a defiant shrug.

Sensing a losing battle, Strauss caved, settling on a compromise. “You’ll need to pass a psych eval with flying colors, then.”

“I will.”

“Today,” she said. “You’re going to wait here until they arrive.”

Hotch put up no fight. “Alright.” He turned and took a seat on her couch while she placed a phone call, ordering an immediate evaluation.

It took an hour for the psychologist to arrive, and they appeared to have rushed there. In truth, Strauss made the situation sound much more dire than it was.

Hotch stood and shook the psychologist’s hand, already securing a good impression before the evaluation had begun. Strauss led them down the hall to a conference room for some privacy.

Hotch hadn’t been in many psych evals, but he was well aware of how they work. Passing this one was easy, much to Strauss’ displeasure, and he was cleared for work by the afternoon.

“I will be watching you, Aaron,” Strauss warned.

“Don’t you already?” he quipped, pushing through her office doors.

+++

The team was in a frenzy when Hotch walked through the BAU’s glass doors, wearing his usual suit and tie, briefcase in hand. Like nothing had happened.

“Is that…?”

“Already?”

“Why is he here?”

You lifted your head from your paperwork and stared, jaw dropping ever so slightly as Hotch walked past your desk. Your eyes followed him up the stairs to his office, unlocking the door and flicking the lights on.

“Did you know he was coming back today?” Emily asked from her seat next to you.

You shook your head, tearing your eyes away from your boss. “No. Not at all. Hasn’t it only been two weeks?”

“If that,” JJ said.

“Is he even allowed to be here?” Morgan asked.

“Standard bereavement time is three to seven days,” Reid quoted, chewing nervously on his nails. “But it varies based on the relationship to the deceased. He should’ve gotten at least a month, or maybe two, since it was Haley and Jack…”

“He definitely shouldn’t be here,” you murmured to yourself mostly, but Emily voiced her agreement.

“He needs more time,” she said quietly, shaking her head in disbelief. “We know he’s a workaholic, but this is…”

“Way too soon,” you finished, and JJ nodded.

Rossi exited his office next door and walked into Hotch’s, immediately embracing him in a hug. You couldn’t hear what they said, but Hotch cracked a small, barely-there smile. It was more than you expected.

Hotch turned his head and locked eyes with you, and you looked away, embarrassed. You really shouldn’t stare. You just didn’t expect him to be back so soon.

You returned to your work, feeling like a kid caught red-handed. Minutes passed before you started to hear Rossi and Hotch’s voices a lot clearer, as they walked down the stairs into the bullpen.

“Hey,” you heard Emily say, smiling gently.

“Long time no see, boss,” Morgan joked lightly.

You lifted your head again, seeing Hotch say a small, “Hi,” and nod. He looked down at you, offering another nod.

“Hey,” you murmured. “How are you doing?”

“I’m alright,” Hotch said, directing his answer to the entire team. “I’m glad to be back. I need something to keep me busy.”

You nodded solemnly. You figured that was the reason, but it didn’t make it any better. You still felt like he should’ve waited a few more weeks at least.

“Well, we missed you,” Rossi said, filling the silence.

Everyone murmured their words of agreement, even you. You probably missed Hotch more than anyone else, but it wasn’t a competition.

“I have some cases to review,” JJ said, gesturing in the direction of her office. “I was just about to bring them to Rossi, but if you…”

“We can review them together,” Rossi offered, nodding with Hotch.

“Sure,” Hotch said. “Just bring them up to my office.”

“Coffee?” Rossi suggested. “I’m sure the pile is as high as ever.”

Hotch seemed strangely comforted by the fact, and by everyone’s attempt to behave as normal as possible, as everyone would have worked before Haley and Jack’s death.

The two men fell into easy conversation, as old friends tend to do, and headed over to brew a fresh pot of coffee. JJ headed to her office to retrieve the case files. Emily, Reid, and Morgan shared looks with you before sinking, defeated, back into their chairs.

Garcia came through the glass doors, her empty mug in hand, and stopped in her tracks when she saw Hotch standing in the small kitchen.

“Sir,” she said. “What are you doing— I mean— Welcome back!” She hugged him, unable to help herself.

“Thank you, Penelope,” Hotch offered a tiny smile, hugging her back.

Garcia set her mug down on the kitchen counter and came over to share her confusion with the rest of the team.

“I saw his psych eval get posted,” she whispered hastily. “What is going on?”

You shrugged. “He said he’s ready to be back.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Babygirl, we know,” Morgan shushed her. “He won’t listen.”

You snorted, knowing that was the truth. Above anything else, Aaron was stubborn. You didn’t know why you didn’t expect him to pull something like this. In fact, you felt stupid for not seeing it coming. You should’ve known.

You gave him a few weeks, depending on how many cases came through that needed the BAU’s attention, but nothing more. He’d realize he needed a break eventually, and then he’d most likely take a month off.

Or he’d retire. But you didn’t want to think about that.

You wanted him to have his time to grieve and heal, but you didn’t want to lose him entirely. The BAU wouldn’t be the same without him.

You were not alone in that sentiment, either. Garcia asked you a few days earlier if you thought Hotch might take Strauss’s retirement offer. You didn’t know what to tell her, not really. If he did, you’d understand. But you’d miss him even more than you had these past two weeks.

+++

Your relationship with Hotch had always toed the line of being inappropriate, ever since you began at the BAU a few years ago.

After his divorce from Haley was finalized and she seemingly wanted nothing to do with him, you felt less guilty about your lingering looks. The guilt evaporated entirely when Hotch began sharing the looks, and added small touches.

At first, it was nothing to concern yourself with.

He always sat next to you on the jet, so these times were no different — although he began sitting closer. Thighs nearly touching, forearms brushing, always bordering on too much, but never enough to raise any suspicions.

His fingers brushed against yours while he handed you files, your bulletproof vest, or a piece of evidence. He started putting his body in front of yours when gunfire was involved, even though you both had the same level of protection on your bodies.

And when he could, he paired you with him for interviews, interrogations, or general splitting of the team. The two of you never shared a hotel room, but he and Rossi always get their own rooms. You did notice, however, that your room was often next to his.

You were tempted, many times, to knock on his door, but you never did. Foyet’s terror began, and then Hotch’s family was targeted, and his attention was torn away from you.

Not that you blamed or resented him for that, of course. It made perfect sense for Hotch to turn his focus to his ex-wife and his son when a serial killer was after them. Disappointment crept into your body, but you pushed it away. Bigger problems were at hand.

You comforted Hotch as best you could during those times without crossing any lines.

“We’ll get him,” you remember saying one night, among other things that you probably shouldn’t have uttered. But your words worked and he thanked you for talking to him, even though you’re sure Rossi and others said similar things.

We’ll get him, you all had said. We’ll catch Foyet.

And you did, but there was no “we” involved. Aaron knew where Foyet was going and was already headed there by the time the team figured it out. He was on a one-man mission, no matter what anyone says to try and make it seem less so.

With Hotch back in the office, feelings were resurfacing, though you tried quieting them. The circumstances now seemed even more inappropriate than before, so you kept yourself under a close watch.

It didn’t help, though, that Aaron had gone back to his old ways.

When the team boarded the jet for the first case since his return, you took your seat first, expecting him to sit elsewhere, but he took the seat directly to your right, effectively boxing you in. Not to mention, he was closer than he had ever sat, and you didn’t know what to do with that.

So, you behaved as normal.

“Alright,” you exhaled. “Let’s figure out what the hell we’re dealing with here.”

The case was standard, reminiscent of a thousand others you had worked on already. In a way, you were glad that this was the first case Hotch was back on. You thought maybe it would help him to work on something so familiar.

Your hopes were confirmed when the jet landed, and the team headed to the precinct. Hotch was behaving as his usual Unit Chief self.

+++

It didn’t take long for your relationship with Hotch to get back to where it was, and for it to take the step further that you wanted it to way back then.

It only took two cases, three months, for you to be in bed with him.

You didn’t knock on his door like you always wanted to. He knocked on yours.

“We really shouldn’t be doing this,” you whispered, your lips just barely touching his cheek. He hovered over you, his arms bent at the elbows and resting on either side of your head. His entire body was pressed into you, the weight comforting.

His heavy breathing filled your ears. “I know.” He rested his forehead against yours.

“You’re drunk,” you said, not upset by the fact, just aware of it.

“I’m not,” he said, shaking his head, but you could smell the alcohol on his lips. You could taste it.

He wasn’t lying. He had one drink, one glass of whiskey, but that was it. He wasn’t drunk. He was buzzed. He’d remember this in the morning. And he wanted to.

“If you’re not,” you murmured, “then what are you doing here, Aaron?”

He lifted his head, his eyes raking over every inch of your face. “What I’ve wanted to for a long time,” he said. “If Foyet hadn’t come back, I would’ve…”

He shook his head, and you shushed him, wanting him to stop this train of thought before it continued. “Don’t. Shhhh, don’t, we don’t have to talk about that right now,” you cradled his face in your hands. “Don’t do that to yourself.”

He nodded. He thought for a moment, regret and shame passing over his face. “Maybe we shouldn’t.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, even though you hated it, even though you really wanted to. But you knew it was the right decision for the night. “You should sleep.” You paused, brushing your fingers through his hair. “You should stay.”

“Can I?” he asked softly, like he knew he shouldn’t. “Just for tonight?”

“Yes,” you murmured. “Stay.”

He did.

[peterman-spideyparker]

In Suspense (Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey lovelies! Because I was indecisive and didn’t know what fic to post first, I let a Tumblr poll decide out of three, and this one was the winner! I admit, it’s a bit self-serving, but good gravy I love this man. Enjoy! :)

Summary: Matt’s riding a high from a good day in court, and you’ve had a crappy day—your only perk having been being able to work from home. When Matt finally gets to the loft and you catch a glimpse of a particular piece of attire, you just can’t help yourself.

Warnings: Domestic fluff, established relationship, smut (oral—m and f receiving, needy and a bit rough, unprotected p in v sex, praise/Matt bring flirty and cocky, creampie), swearing/dirty talk

Other Characters: None

Word Count: 1,937

“Hey sweetheart,” you hear Matt call as he enters the loft. 

“Matt!” you say surprised, putting your laptop on the table and moving over to meet him halfway. His glasses, briefcase, and cane have all been discarded by the door, and he begins to loosen his tie. “Court let out early?”

“Yep,” he smiles, placing his hands gently on your waist as he pulls you in for a sweet kiss. “It also helps that it was a Friday afternoon and that I caught the prosecutions’s star witness in a lie during cross, got a confession on the stand, and saved my client from a wrongful imprisonment.”

“Matt, that’s amazing!” you cheer, wrapping him in a big hug. There’s a wonderful, prideful glow about him, feeling a strong sense of pride for what he was able to do for his clients. You mirror his joy, feeling nothing but admiration and amazement for him and how he helps the people who really need it. You press a sweet kiss to his cheek before you lean back and look at him, running your fingers through his hair as you cradle the back of his head. “You never cease to amaze me.”

“I do like the challenge of one-upping myself.”

You give him another kiss before you run your hands down his arms.

“I’m gonna clock out early and I’ll run down the the little market a couple of blocks over and I’ll get what I need to make your favorite for dinner. Tonight, we’re celebrating.”

“I think we can achieve that same level of celebration with some takeout. Now it’s just a matter of deciding the kind of cuisine.”

“Well, now, that’s something for the man of honor to decide.”

“Personally, I don’t think we can ever go wrong with Thai.”

“Then Thai it is,” you beam. “Usual?”

“Usual.”

“Now that you’ve heard about my day, how was yours, sweetheart?”

“Not nearly as eventful as yours,” you sigh. “Long. Stressful. Not things Fridays should be.”

“I’m sorry, angel. But the day is almost done, I’m home, and no one can give feel-better cuddles like me. Actually, Foggy probably could.”

“He is a master snuggle bear. But I have my cuddle devil on call whenever I need him.”

“Damn right, you do,” he confirms with a long, sweet kiss and a quick smack to your butt before you both move toward the kitchen. As you walk, he takes off his suit jacket, and you stop mid-movement when you catch what’s underneath. 

“Matty, are you wearing suspenders?” you ask, feeling a blush rush to your cheeks while you watch him roll up his sleeves to his elbows. 

“Yeah.”

“Aren’t suspenders more of a tuxedo piece of attire for you?”

Matt gives a little shrug and pout of his lips. “I just felt like mixing it up today.”

“Well,” you breathe, closing the space between Matt and you once more. “In the interest in mixing it up, I think we should continue with the theme.” Matt’s eyebrows arch in confusion and anticipation as that beautiful lopsided smirk graces his lips. Hooking your thumbs under the elastic, gently sliding them down the fabric and stopping at the middle of his pecs, barely an inch between your faces. “Dessert before dinner?”

The smile that curls on Matt’s lips and the mischievous glint in his eye speaks louder than words as he pulls you in for a panty-soaking kiss. You moan into his mouth and pull his body impossibly close to yours by the textured fabric of his suspenders. 

“This really does something for you, huh?” Matt chuckles against your lips.

“Oh, yeah, Matty,” you hum, running your hands up and over his shoulders. “You have no idea what this does for me.”

Feeling the soft locks of his hair, you cup the back of his head and pull him back into you the short distance for another deep kiss, causing your bodies to fall onto the couch. With the solid flop on the couch making squeaky leather sounds, you both giggle into the kiss as you continue to embrace. As Matt’s hands cradle your face, he chases your lips, planting big, quick, open kisses on you that make your lips tingle. You move to unbutton his crisp white shirt, feeling his soft scarred skin underneath the soft cotton fabric.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” you murmur into his mouth before he pulls back and sucks on your neck, marking you up for all to see. 

“I guess I should wear suspenders more often,” he nips at your earlobe. 

“Then we’d be doing this all the time.”

“I’m not opposed to that, angel—don’t put the idea in my head.”

You smile and giggle as you move in for more kisses, moaning as his hands glide up your body and his tongue explores your mouth. 

“Mmm,” you whimper as you grind against him. His grip tightens on your hips, pushing the fabric of your shirt up on your skin. You pull your lips from his and suck marks into his neck, sucking at his earlobe occasionally. “Wanna suck you off. Wanna bounce on your cock, too.”

Matt slides his hands over your body, squeezing your breasts before running his fingers through your hair, holding you incredibly close as he kisses you, letting you sneak down between his legs, freeing him just enough from his pants and boxers where you can give him a few pumps and swallow him whole—the fact that he’s still relatively soft making the entire thing easier. Matt moans in delight as you drag your lips up and down his shaft, tracing the prominent vein in his cock with the tip of your tongue, further using it to your advantage as you lick the underside of the mushroom head before kissing the tip of his cock slowly, your lips wrapping around the hot, pink flesh. 

Your time on your knees with Matt down your throat doesn’t last long, as he pulls you up and leans your body backward on the sofa so you’re completely at his mercy. He pulls his lips from yours and presses kisses down your neck and exposed collarbone before pulling your shirt off of your body. 

“No bra, sweetheart?” he chuckles as his hands settle on your exposed ribcage, his thumbs brushing just under your breasts. 

“No need—perks from working at home,” you smile as you run your hand through his hair. 

“Works great for me,” he says with a lick of his lips, dipping his face down, taking one of your breasts into his mouth while his hand grabs at the other one. Your back arches as you moan loudly into the apartment, Matt sucking at your nipple and licking at the supple flesh. You feel him roll your other nipple between his thumb and forefinger, getting it nice and pebbled before putting his mouth on it, mimicking the motion with the other nipple. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, your tits are so perfect,” he pants as he kisses you right above your racing heart. Taking your breasts in his large hands, he pushes your breasts together, burying his face right into them and moaning into the skin. 

“Matty,” you whine. “Fu . . . Ooh. Matty, eat me out. Please, Matty, need your mouth on me.”

Matt kisses your neck again before pulling off, making quick work of your pants. You lean up, pulling his shirt off and throwing it somewhere in the living room before he guides you back down and spreads your legs wide, grazing his hands over your aching core before sliding two fingers into you, pumping them just so.

“You’re so tight, baby,” he coos. “Shit . . . So fucking wet f’me, too.”

Dipping down, he wraps his lips around your clit and you moan, arching your back and tossing your head to the side as he eats you out and stretches you wide. 

“Matt!” you cry. “Matty! Fuck . . . Fuck, baby, I need your cock.”

“Thought you wanted my mouth?” he hums into your core. 

“Matt, please! ‘M gonna cum. Wanna do it on your cock.”

He slowly pulls his fingers from you and kisses up your body. “Of course, baby. You’re such a good girl. I’ll give you what you want, sweetheart, I’ll give you my cock.”

Completely ridding himself of his suspenders and slacks, the fabric blend joins the rest of your clothes on the floor. He pumps himself in one hand while he uses his other to adjust you on the couch, pinning you in a pocket of the cushions that creates the most comfort for the both of you. Tapping your pussy with his dick a few times, he gathers up the slick dripping from between your legs and slowly pushes all the way in, your moans harmonizing in the apartment as he moves to completely bottom out. His lips move against yours in a passionate kiss, the both of you doing your darnedest to chase your desires. As you go back and forth, Matt starts fast, shallow thrusts, hitting everything just right.

“Feel so good like this,” he breathes against your neck. “Perfect, angel. Made for me.”

“Right there!” you squeak as you try to hold onto his back, your nails scratching at his soft, scarred skin. “Right there, Matty! Just like that!”

The leather of the cushions squeak as the feet of the sofa scratch against the old hardwood of the loft with each of Matt’s thrusts. Your moans and cries of pleasure come out of you on their own volition as Matt ruts into you over and over. You hold onto him as you feel your orgasm build, and you cling to him as if your life depends on it when you finally feel your release wash over you. He holds onto you and gives you the support you need as you experience nothing but pleasure, his hips keeping a relatively steady pace as he cums inside of you shortly after you clench around his length, pushing the hot ropes of his release deep inside of you. 

“Mm, congrats on your win, counselor,” you hum, completely blissed out as you kiss his forehead, temple, cheek, and finally his lips.

Matt gives you a happy-hazy smile as he kisses the expanse of skin from your shoulders up to your neck.

“Sorry you had a crappy day, angel,” he says with a kiss to your sweet spot.

“It’s been less crappy since you got home.” That’s when it hits you, and you can’t help but laugh. “Oops.”

“What?” Matt chuckles into your neck, pressing a kiss into one of the hickies he left on your skin.

“I didn’t clock out—I just had sex and got paid.”

“Like a prostitute?” he offers, only making the pair of you laugh harder.

“Oh my—not funny!”

“Objection—it’s hilarious. Can you imagine?”

“Okay, sustained,” you laugh as you roll into him, resting your head on his muscly arm, the image he put in your head truly too ridiculous to not be funny. 

“C’mon. Clock out so when this happens again later—.”

“‘Again later’?”

“Yeah. I’m still in a celebratory mood, and I’ve gotta make sure my girl forgets all about her crappy day.”

You hum in agreement as Matt kisses your forehead once more, adjusting you so you can get cozy on the couch together in his arms. Moving as little as you can from him, you grab your phone and clock out, kissing along the lines of a red angry scratches you left in his skin as he holds you close, making sure you both recharge for round after round tonight.

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger​ @steampowerednightvaler​ @themusingsofmany @just-the-hiddles​ @toozmanykids​ @dangertoozmanykids101 @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop​ @itwasthereaminuteago​ @peter1ismybrother@hellskitchens-whore​​ @dpaccione​ @catnip987​

[muniimyg]

kimi's comfort fics (2023)

note: these fics are pretty "old" since most of the writers are no longer active or the fics have been posted years ago.. BUT !!! some are recent with active writers so i would 100% recommend u check out their other works nd send them love !!! that being said, i did not link the stories but i did link the writers 🫡 this way u can check out their other works nd blog in general 💅🏼✨

nevertheless, they are all masterpieces that have heavily inspire my work nd personal life because i am delulu 24/7 <3 this list consists of my core comfort fics like... y’all don’t even fcking know how much i love them

‼️ for the most part, all of these fics imply mature content !!! minors dni ‼️

smau recs

@firebettercallnct

color of your shirt (kth)

cuffed (knj)

stay and cook (jjk)

stole your shirt (jjk)

went through your phone (jjk)

these fics were the ones that made me absolutely fall in love with smaus. smt abt the style nd way the plot seamlessly depict a beautiful and lighthearted aura... ugh, it jus gets me every mfking time </3 

@kimnjss

be my baby (myg)

cyberslut (myg)

kinda hot (kth)

cherry pickers (jjk)

plot twist (knj) 

i think kez is a mastermind nd i’ve always admired her constant updates nd organization! have u seen her taglist? BRUH i could never :’) these fics rlly made me feel BUTTERFLIES i don’t know how else to describe the way kez makes these works so fcking interesting every time

headcanons

@jungshookz

stuck with you (kth)

suit & tie (myg)

hellish (myg)

basketball!captain (myg)

baby, you can drive my car (myg)

beauty & the bookworm (knj)

these headcanons literally give the serotonin boost i need. they hit so mfking good nd the energy is jus 10/10

fic recs

series and drabbles by @noteguk

bad influence: collection (jjk)

any way you want (kth)

house rules (jhs)

for science (jhs)

let me tell u... these fics were a CULTURAL RESET. god bless them nd tHE WAY NALA IS BACK??? hello. i love u so much. thank u for creating such breath-taking stories with ur incredible writing... u’re insanely talented nd i look forward to more of ur work… like fuck,, i’m so shy rn 👉🏽👈🏽

series and drabbles by @yoonpobs

with you (ksj)

back-burner (myg)

ice skating and holding hands (myg)

cold (pjm)

i absolutely went ✨ I N S A N E ✨ for back-burner yoongi. i was literally taking an accounting class (which i failed nd i have never failed anything in my life) nd thursday aka back-burner update day would literally be my motivation to mfking LIVE. i love the underlying nostalgia in these works.. i literally don’t know who i would be without these fics (i’m downplaying how much i love them arghh)

series and drabbles by @1kook

skirt chasers (jjk)

netflix & chill (jjk)

dreamy (pjm)

absolute icons. literally so well written, it’s unforgettable !!!

series and drabbles by @h0neypjm

confident (jjk)

for practice (kth)

homie hopper till i die (pjm/kth)

these are the ones that... make me feel some type of way... like… 🦋⚡️❤️‍🔥 way… yk?

series by @floralseokjin

the devil wears armani (ksj)

crystallised saga (ksj)

please be naked (myg)

i think these fics stabbed me in the heart nd the wound never healed. that’s the best way i can put it... i love anything jordan writes but these... these are litereally the bane of my existance. crystallised has so much depth in it nd i honestly feel like i’m in the story with the characters.. i’ve never experienced desperation until i read the devil wears armani because wHAT THE FUCK... pbn is... yeah. let’s just stop here..... 😪

series by @btssmutgalore

nude (kth)

bicker (kth)

benefits (pjm)

🫶🏻 ok. we need to have a conversation about nude. NUDE HAS RUINED MY LIFE. yk why? because the same way it grasps my heart,, it breaks nd makes it new. literally. like mfker rlly said “whatever u say goes” bITCHJFKJSLS IM CRYING IN THE CLUBBBBBB 🫣

series by @personasintro

mutual help (jjk)

my tiny secret

i read mh while it was jus starting.. to see how much it progressed nd how many ppl read it now is mindblowing! my tiny secret was the first ever bts fanfic i ever read... so.... YESSSS

series by @gukslut

rattled (jjk)

oh my god. this has to be my ultimate comfort fic. i’ve never read something so original nd heartbreakingly beautiful. the gradual build nd the way each character experiences nd works thru their issues... chefs kiss... i read this fic at least once a month to remember what love feels like 🥹👊🏽

drabbles by @jeonqkooks

just friends (jjk)

angel baby (jjk)

the moon, and all the stars (jjk)

this is how you fall in love (jjk)

i always see jen sharing her thoughts on my work... but bro... let me mfking tell u... her work speaks for itself. i’m so in love......

drabble by @jungkxook

let’s play: dirty (jjk)

THIS ONE IS SUCH A FUN READ. i need it injected into me tbfh. i always reread it when i’m feeling down

drabble by @angelgukks

pu$$y fairy (jjk)

can not be beat. mfking love this drabble fr

i also want to take the time to express my deepest love nd thank u to the writers who have left this platform. to the writers who have moved on nd left us with memories of their work; ur efforts nd storylines will remain in my heart forever <3

i esp loved a lover’s kiss by @hueseok​ . 

copyright © 2023, muniimyg on tumblr.  

[runnning-outof-time]

K’s Reading List — SEPTEMBER

Hey there! Thanks for stumbling upon this reading list! I figured that as a way to support the lovely writers within this fandom that I’d compile a reading list of all of the stories I read over each month.

September was a wonderful month filled with incredible stories. Below is the list of stories that I read. I hope you will find some that you like as well!

As always, please make sure you heed to the warnings on each fic!!

🧡 — denotes a story written for my 3.5k celebration

@call-sign-shark

Perfect Lines - Arthur Shelby x Reader/OC — 🧡

Boxing!Arthur thoughts/blurb - Arthur Shelby x OC

@evita-shelby

Happy wife, Happy life - Tommy Shelby x Reader — 🧡

@youtifulsunshinelixfics

September Drabble Challenge - features several different Peaky characters

@notyour-valentine

Come Hell or High Water - Tommy Shelby x Reader

@little-diable

I Remember Everything - Tommy Shelby x Reader — contains 🔞 NSFW themes!

Tommy Shelby Blurb - Tommy Shelby x Reader

The Woman In the Painting - Tommy Shelby x Reader

@raincoffeeandfandoms

Fly Away, Butterfly - John Shelby x Reader

Behind the Green Door - Interactive Fic set in the Peaky Blinders World

Storks and chimneys… - Alfie Solomons x OC

One Last Kiss - Alfie Solomons x Reader

In his arms - Tommy Shelby x Reader

@cryingforlife

Daddy’s Bad Girl - Modern!Tommy Shelby x Reader — contains 🔞 NSFW themes!

Until We Meet Again - Tommy Shelby x Reader

@strayrockette

A Daughter’s Letter - Wartime!Tommy Shelby x Reader

@zablife

Tommy Shelby Blurb - Tommy Shelby x Reader — 🧡

The Changretta Calls 4 - from ongoing series

Michael’s Wedding Gift - Tommy Shelby x Mrs Shelby

@moral-terpitude

The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie - Tommy Shelby

@anotherblinder

The Ring - Tommy Shelby x Reader

@sneakyblinders

summer beach house pt. 1 - Modern!Tommy x OC (on-going series)

@loverhymeswith

Forever is the Sweetest Con - Tommy Shelby x Reader

Only Bought This Dress So You Could Take It Off - Tommy Shelby x Reader — contains 🔞 NSFW themes!

@cillmequick

Behind Closed Doors - Modern!Tommy Shelby x Reader — contains 🔞 NSFW themes!

Til Death Do Us Part - Tommy Shelby x Reader

The Dress, Part 4 - Cillian Murphy x Reader (on-going series) — contains 🔞 NSFW themes!

@gypsy-girl-08

Blind Date - Modern!Tommy Shelby x Reader (ongoing series) — contains 🔞 NSFW themes!

Seventeen Days - Tommy Shelby x Reader

Just A Minute… - Tommy Shelby x Reader — contains 🔞 NSFW themes!

@mystcldydrms

Always On Your Side - Tommy Shelby x Reader

@darthannie

grand gestures - Tommy Shelby x Reader

water works - Tommy Shelby x Reader — contains 🔞 NSFW themes!

@hb-writes

“I’m not pissed, I’m hurt.” - Ada Shelby & Sister!Reader

@emotionalcadaver

Nocturnal Me - Tommy Shelby x OC (Succubus AU!) — contains 🔞 NSFW themes!

@toms-cherry-trees

For This Love - Tommy Shelby x Reader

Arthur Shelby Blurb

Tommy Shelby Blurb 1

Tommy Shelby Blurb 2

@darklydeliciousdesires

She Belonged To the Wild - Tommy Shelby x OC — contains 🔞 NSFW themes!

@jakeotters

Dating Tommy Shelby - headcannons

@peakyswritings

Lullaby - Tommy Shelby x Reader

@there-goes-thefighter

Check On You - Tommy Shelby x Reader

[punemy-spotted]

Iris - Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie

Pairing: SoftDark!Devil!Helmut Zemo x Sky-Captain!Reader

Warnings: Cosmic Horror; Dubious Consent; Dubious Morality; Estranged Relationship; Zemo and Reader are not in the Good Place; THIS IS A HORROR FIC; Soul Stealing; Incredibly Loose Relationship with Physics; This is a Fallen London x Marvel Crossover Moment; There are Space Bees; And Giant Lovestruck Space Crabs; Violence; Murder; Death; Poison; At Least One Reference to a Garrote; Estranged Relationship; Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

PLEASE REMEMBER THAT YOUR CONSUMPTION OF MEDIA IS YOUR OWN RESPONSIBILITY AND IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THE CONTENT THAT IS BEING PRESENTED, PLEASE DO NOT READ

Chapter Summary: Sokovia rose, then fell, and then rose again. And now the stars will never be the same.

Notes: Hi, welcome, I really wanted to write an MCU crossover with the Fallen London 'verse so here we are. Imagine House of M except Wanda Maximoff became an actual factual God and it actually wasn't that bad after all. And now imagine all of that is background noise in favor of one unhinged Devil and one overly hinged Epistolarian. An Intrepid Epistolarian.

Oh also Wanda's waging war against Queen Victoria. It's fine.

For those of you who have read my other Zemo fics, finished and unfinished, if you notice similarities between this fic and the other ones... yes. I am Frankenstein trying to raise this fanfiction monster and put scenes, passages, and themes to better use than languishing in my Ao3/Tumblr cupboard. (Also if you've read my other fics, hi, hello, I love you.)

I crave feedback, so tell me what you think!

All of my work is 18+ Only, Minors DO NOT INTERACT. I do not consent to my work being posted anywhere besides Tumblr or Ao3 and I post my work there myself. Do not copy, translate, or repost any of my content.

The First taught Restraint, and the Second Betrayed. The Third taught us Hunger and the Fourth we Remade. The Fifth will live on in the Heart of the Sun but the Sixth did quickly Fade. The Seventh City will never Fall, never ending the Deal we made.

She kept some of the old names when she took this place, you know. Built onto it, even when her Renewed Empress had to bend the knee to the Scarlet One, sealed away in her undying mausoleum.

The Proclaimers of the Cult of the Sanctified, still seated at the Avid Horizon’s High Gate and whispering Truths to their counterparts on the other side, were right — the Seventh City would never fall; the Bazaar would never be compelled to deliver that fatal missive to that Beacon of Bright Betrayal it loved so much; there would be no opportunity to argue that Seven Cities worth of love is proof enough of Her Worthy Love.

If there is one thing you know about opportunities, it is that they are also opportunities to fail.

The long tradition of the Duchy of Sokovia — that Bulwark which once stood the test of time against even the Tsars of Russia — is not what it once was. There is, in fact, no such thing as Sokovia now, not the way you would think. There are Sokovian people, clinging to an identity lest it be lost in the abyss below, but all that remains of the Earthly land which remembered the Duchy’s history with the joint Empires of Austria and Hungary is now nothing more than a chasm of stone and steel.

A monument to violent delights in want of violent ends.

Cast your eyes not to the ruins of her past but to the gleaming future written in the stars ab—

The sound of a train whistle drowns out what remains of the tinned announcement, an earsplitting shriek you endure for what feels like forever, but is in fact — if the clock before you is accurate — no more than two minutes. Which — as it turns out — is plenty of time to interrupt the announcement’s conclusion and leave ringing silence in its wake.

Good. You were rather tired of hearing your own voice drone on any longer.

You turn your head away from the train schedule you had previously been pretending to occupy your mind with, watching the rails with mild impatience and fidgeting with your gloves.

He is late.

It’s not abnormal, really, for the more independent locomotives — those not on the Scarlet Empress’s own payroll, that is — to run on their own definition of time, but you’ve never known your contact to be anything more than a man of his word.

When you’ve properly interpreted his words, that is.

No matter. You have the luxury of time. Collecting your luggage takes little effort — a rather bulging handbag and a briefcase is not so terrible compared to the crates of fuel, souls, and hours you see being carted around you — as you step briskly towards the more busting central parts of port. The station itself has seen better days, almost empty save for a handful of dock-workers and the occasional Employee making sure the schedule runs on time, but as you pass through an open archway into the city proper, they seem eager to resume whatever activity they might otherwise have abandoned for your intrusive presence.

NORTH.

How did it happen? Was it prophecy — or maybe some mad interpretation of the scream-whispers of Distant Polythreme, a vision of the Garden — that led the Proclaimers to make their rhyme, completing the riddle and speaking for the Masters themselves?

Something must have rung true to the Masters, for them to solve the riddle.

Novi Grad rose, then fell. Fell until it could fall no further, until there was nothing left of decades of history but ash and blood for the ghosts of her denizens to wander through. Until there was nothing for the Masters and their bats to drag to cavernous depths.

So she, in her infinite tragedy and infinite pain, became the solution.

Your tea, madame. You look up from your scribbling absently, glancing briefly up at the server and then feeling your polite smile immediately fade off your face.

Must you always play games?

Helmut Zemo stands before you with a perfectly placid smile on his cruelly handsome face, So lovely to see you again, sweetling, and you’re quite welcome for the tea.

You narrowly avoid the temptation to roll your eyes, closing your journal and placing the cap on your pen, its nib glimmering venomously in the candlelight, You are late. A casual accusation, one he dismisses with an easy wave of his hand, just before seating himself before you and stealing a biscuit from your place.

And you are impatient. Surely this must mean you have missed me, little bird. If he notices the way you flinch at the sweetname, struggling to compose yourself before you manage to settle on sternness, he does not say.

You have faced worse things than Helmut Zemo, you know. Worse than the ache that slices through your heart when you look at him and his easy smile, the one you might have fallen in love with once again, if you forgot yourself.

You will not.

Instead, you breathe, letting the heavy air in your lungs out slowly as you tug the fingers of your glove until the whole thing is loose enough to be removed entirely.

You always hated getting biscuit crumbs on your whisper-satin fineries.

You asked me to meet you here, Helmut, a fact which he seems to dismiss with another too-sharp smile, eyes flickering over you.

It burns. Licking over the neckline of your dress before moving down to the delicate pearl buttons that hold shut your bodice, heat rising over the thin lace collar wrapped around your throat, and you wonder idly how often he fines pleasure in watching people struggle to breathe and die.

I’m told you have been busy, he tells you flatly, practiced hand snapping his biscuit in half before dipping one perfect semi-circle into the cup of tea he’d placed in front of you, Too busy, it seems, to inform your husband of your whereabouts.

The knifeblade edge of his voice is enough, slipping past the plates of armor you always try to wrap around yourself every time you agree to meet him, his joyless smile the barbs he leaves in your heart, ensuring it will bleed for him for a few months more after your eventual parting.

The first time he’d touched your cheek in the shadow of a clockwork sun while you wept, his lips ghosting  your skin, you nearly fell to your knees at his feet.

That should have been the last time you would ever see him, as he whispered sweet nothings and sweeter promises in a language you did not speak, burning intention into your skin and leaving you forever bound, words falling from his lips like a waterfall.

The third time you met Helmut Zemo, you cried. And the fourth. And the fifth.

You refuse to meet his eyes, smoothing out the wrinkles in your gown with trembling hands, Is this what you came to remind me?

He does not stop smiling, even as you make note of the uneasy tension sitting on his shoulders, the vicious gleam in his eyes as he continues his visual examination of your countenance, tea soaked biscuit melting idly on his tongue.

Yes, it is.

You should be grateful for his honesty — Devils rarely are, after all.

He continues before you have a chance to consider it, How much farther do you plan to run from this place, sweetling, before time returns you back to me?

You wish he wouldn’t call you sweetling.

You haven’t been sweet in a thousand years.

But that’s beside the point, isn’t it? He already knows that, anyway.

Though you suppose that maybe you ought to tell him about something he doesn’t know.

Why did you call me here, Helmut?

Why does any man call his wife back to the port where they parted last? I missed you.

You swallow thickly, avoiding the unyielding blade of his sharp-eyed gaze and even sharper smile, refusing to let your heart leap out to him as it aches to do, You are lying, Helmut, you accuse, pretending to busy yourself with the biscuits he brought to your table.

As always, as you should have expected, he only grins at you — a cruel, twisted grimace that makes your stomach twist not-wholly-unpleasantly — before reaching out and brushing his knuckles over your cheek, Would you let me lie, little bird?

I certainly hope you don’t expect an honest answer to that question.

His laugh is as sharp as his smile, a huff of bemusement you recall bringing you happiness before, a long time ago.

Now it reminds you of the taste of poison, of bile curling in the back of your throat, of blood and metal and the screaming agony of time stretched to its very limit.

The silence too, stretches between you, taut as the wires you would wrap around your palms to cut through cheese and impertinent throats, waiting for you to finally surrender and rise to your feet, gather your things and bid him as formal a goodbye as you’ll allow yourself — always just out of reach, I have no intention of playing games, Helmut, you challenge with the same tone of voice you might use to scold the Empress’s misbehaving sons, If you refuse to do me the courtesy of your honest, then do me the gift of your absence.

He watches you, eyes glimmering amber with insult, but does not dishonor you enough to reach out, There was a time, little bird, when you loved me without such reservation.

The words burn across your skin like living fire, your vows and his molded together in a single remembered sigil, a bond forced with the very language of Judgment, unbidden agony scorching your composure as you make a desperate, futile attempt to push away the memory; his voice soft, the low timbre of his accent sliding over your ears like honey in your mouth, gentle lips on yours as he sealed your fate with a kiss, I have memorized you like a prayer.

You could almost have forgotten he was a liar, standing lost in your memories as you are, forgotten the price of promise and the weight of truth.

Almost.

The tears burn at the backs of your eyes, but you blink them back, let bone grind against bone before, More fool I, then, for thinking you did the same.

You turn to walk towards the door, four sovereigns in hand to pay for your meal — interrupted though it has been — making a concentrated effort to not look back, even as you hear his voice cutting through the otherwise silent room, When everything goes wrong, it is a terrible burden to bear alone, don’t you think?

You cannot help yourself, can you? Shoulders slumping as you declare a reluctant defeat and turn to face him, swearing your heart has lit aflame.

You cannot ignore His Law forever, little bird.

You know nothing of responsibility, Helmut, your voice is cold as the icy expanse beyond the warm walls of Novi Grad station, still aching to leave and frustrated by your uncooperative feet.

There’s a twitch at the corner of his lips, amusement sparking in his own eyes, And what of you, little bird, what have you learned of responsibility since your escape from Perdurance?

You visibly flinch, the name sparking an endless array of horror and memories within you, just as his expression falls into uncharacteristic regret.

Nothing, clearly, you reply hollowly, words bitter on the back of your teeth, Much to your pleasure, I think.

That wounds him, to your surprise, hurt painting his face before he controls his features and buries both regret and rage beneath a placid mask, Infinite freedom is as tight a prison as an opulent cage, on occasion.

[yourlocalghoulette]

this is Halloween

Miguel x fem!reader

warnings- 18+ MDNI, smut, unprotected piv, fingering, oral (fem!receiving), a bit of a costume kink, breeding kink, not proofread.

w/c: 1.1k YALL THIS IS THE LONGEST FIC IVE EVER WRITTEN

authors note- guys idk why this took me so long to write😭 my adhd rly said NOPE YOUR BRAIN IS NOT WRITING TODAY so it took me forever lmao. hope yall enjoy some spicy Miguel, reblogs always help!!

staring at your mirror, your mouth tugs up in a small, prideful grin at your costume. you are the sexy devil, wearing a red spandex tube top that tied in the front and a matching red miniskirt. your makeup is exaggerated but alluring, your lips painted bright red with lipstick. your hair is left down in loose curls, a headband with red horns holding them out of your face. your costume is perfect, but the only thing missing is….

you gasp as Miguel walks out of the bathroom, wearing a blood red suit and tie with a red top hat with horns on his head. the suit looks like it had been made just for him, fitting him in all the right places, accentuating his muscular build.

“good god,” you gasp, trying to take in his looks. “you look so good.” you grin up at him.

“so do you, muñeca,” he replies in his low voice that never ceases to send butterflies straight into your stomach.

“ready to go?”

Miguel holds his arm up so you can wrap your arm around his, making you giggle.

“lead the way, mi pequeña belleza,” he croons, following you to the front door. (my little beauty)

as you and Miguel step into your friends costume party, you feel all eyes falling on you and Miguel. ignoring the attention, you grab Miguel’s arm and tug it slightly.

“come on baby, let’s go eat. im starving.”

the night is full of fun, playing spooky games and carving pumpkins, plenty of cocktails and a costume competition. you and Miguel won best couples costume. as Miguel got more drunk throughout the night, you notice how he becomes more and more affectionate over you. he cannot keep his hands off of you, seeing you in that tight spandex top that squeezed your breasts together just right, showing enough cleavage to make his cock twitch. as you sit at a table together talking with a friend, you notice his hand start to snake up your inner thigh, making its way to your clothed cunt. you give him a look. “not right here,” you whisper. he looks into your eyes, his dark red eyes so full of lust and need that he thought he’d explode.

“im just- ahem- going to run to the bathroom real quick,” he says quickly, getting up from his seat. he beckons with his head for you to follow him. as soon as the bathroom door is locked, his lips are on yours, kissing you with such fervor that your knees grow weak. he pins you up against the wall, not breaking the suffocating kiss that he is planting on your lips. he makes quick work of unlacing the sides of your costume, ripping it off along with your flimsy white panties.

“god, such a pretty pussy,” he groans, kneeling down but keeping your hips planted to the wall. he licks a stripe up your folds, enjoying the little whimpers and mewls you make when he teases you. “fuck, so gorgeous for me, bebita,” he croons before taking your clit in his mouth, swirling his tongue around your sensitive bud. he enjoys how you quiver above him as he eats you out, back arching against the wall as you moan his name.

“please, baby- i need- i need…” you are unable to make a full sentence, your brain cloudy with the pure need for this man. “tell me what you need, princesa,” he groans into your pussy, sending vibrations through you that make your body shudder. “i-i need you-oh god,” you moan as he shoves two fingers inside of you. he nods in approval, then straightens up and unbuttons his red pants. he pulls his hard, throbbing cock out of his boxers, giving it a few solid pumps with his hand, giving himself more pleasure than you thought he would indulge in. “please, baby, I need you so bad,” you whimper as his mouth curls up in a devilish grin, enjoying the way your body writhes in impatience. finally, finally he lines up his tip with your throbbing hole and pushes himself all the way in brutally, not caring to let you adjust. you let out a silent scream, holding your hand over your mouth so the others won’t hear the way he’s fucking you. he pushes in and out of you mercilessly, always making sure that your cunt hit the patch of hair at the base of his dick before he pulls out again. he dives his head into the side of your neck, biting it until it bleeds then quickly using his tongue to soothe the pain. “such a good girl,” he moans into your ear, making the butterflies in your stomach start flying again. “oh-god,” you moan as his tip hits your cervix over and over and over. “I’m so close,” you manage to stutter out, your brain completely numb from the way he’s fucking you against the wall. “go ahead, cum for me, corazón,” he growls, fucking you faster as he chases his own climax. your eyes roll back as your vision turns white, hearing only static in your ears as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave. you have to bite your hand to hold back a scream as Miguel somehow fucks you faster. “fuck, I’m gonna cum,” Miguel whimpers, his voice growing deeper. “Gonna plant a baby in you, huh, muñeca? Gonna make you a mami- fuck,” he moans deep in his throat as you feel his cock twitch inside you, your pussy milking him for all he has. he stays inside of you for a few more seconds, making sure it takes before pulling out and slowly stroking his length. “Jesus, you’re so pretty,” he coos as he watches you, your body still shuddering slightly as you pull your costume back on.

[moral-terpitude]

The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie

Word Count: 611

Summary: Tommy Shelby is the Devil, but has he always been?

Warnings: None

A/N: I couldn't get over that Colter Wall song, so, here's a spooky fic as we come up on Spooky Season because this is basically what I pictured each time I've listened to it. Lyrics from the song are in italics.

The silhouette of the child off in the distance, shadow dancing between tall, dead, and withering trees caught the man's attention.

His long strides easily allowed him to keep pace with the running boy, the jog not one of fearing pursuit, but of childhood play. One that when accompanied by other children would have been filled with laughter.

He himself had been so full of laughter. Before. Then.

Neither of them were sure that the other was real, the only things that could ever be told the truth about the situation would be the black car idling by the road for some time, and the glowing ember of the man's cigarette burning brightly in the dark as it hung from his lips.

Tripping over some of the growth in the underbrush the boy faltered, coming to a halt amongst the dead leaves, barefoot and splayed out in mended clothes on the dirty ground.

Identical blue eyes grew wide in the light of the full moon, the boy looking up in horror as the man approached him, bending down before offering him a hand.

“I know you.” The words were a gentle  “I know you, young man.”

“I’d know you by the state of your hands,” the little calloused fingers fell into the middle of a worse worn palm, hefted to his feet, the young boy took in the man’s features, the two of them eye to eye in the darkness.

Hands that would later have knuckles swatted with wooden rulers for misbehaving.

The boy felt that it was someone he knew. Someone he should know. Someone he always would remember.

Maybe they were one in the same.

No words were exchanged, but the boy knew that there were things this man could tell him that would change him, change his life, too young to realize the cost, that it was a trade with a debt that would never be repaid.

My sweet soul everlasting.

This man must be the Devil, the boy thought. Dark hair and dark suit, the shine of his shoes able reflect the full moon in the dark.

My very own eternal light.

Just as soon as he appeared, the man was gone, leaving the boy to haul himself back to his family's encampment, a group of them all traveling together, low lit caravans in the middle of the woods, out of the way and a bother to no one.

The embers still were alight from the fire, new wood needing to be added. Their father presumably too drunk to wake and help fend off the cold.

His mother was sat on the steps, knitwork held between her hands, as he approached.

His pallor was white as cotton as her son approached, the look of him, had her reaching out to him before he was close enough.

“What have you seen, Tommy?” She whispered, setting down the knitwork as he tucked himself against her chest.

She repeated the words a few more times before the sound of his mother’s voice pulled him from his dazed state to recount the tale.

In a worried rush she left him by the dying embers, staring into the flames that felt as if they were licking his insides. 

“Take Thomas,” she shook her husband, still groggy with sleep and drink, “take him to town to your sister. She’ll take him to the church. To talk to–”

“Woman, hush.” He swung in an attempt to stop her jostling him, but it only heightened the worry in her voice.

“Tommy claims he’s seen the devil.” Her voice broke, trying to whisper in the dark and not wake the other children, “Claims that’s him when he’s grown.”

[harcove]

I've got a little request for a fic. I'm in love with your writings for billy and I'd like to know how his wedding day would be.

Is he scared? Is he cocky as usual? Does he even care or is he doing this just for his partner? Does he want to run? And what's his reaction seeing his partner the wirst time in their wedding attire? Just.. just fluff. Pure, teeth rotting fluff? Or angst? Or both? I don't know :D

a/n: aaa okay ik you mentioned like a reaction to wedding attire- but I found it hard to segway into that from what I was already writing, so I think I'm gonna do another part to this/separate piece just on his reaction to his s/o in their wedding clothes!

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

Length: 1.5k

Warnings: Tiny angst? Mention of Neil/abusive parenting, commitment issues, fluffy Biwwy, also Max and Billy being siblings if for some reason you don't like that

'Ready' for Forever - B.H.

What the fuck was he doing?

Billy asked himself for the hundredth time as he looked at himself in the mirror. It felt so bizarre, so weird and wrong. But in a good way- he thinks.

He's always dressed nice, he takes pride in his appearance- but his appearance wasn't fully buttoned-up shirts and dress pants. That wasn't him. He'd be more comfortable in a jean jacket and an open shirt or a plain short sleeve shirt with jeans.

A suit was not something that fit him. He wasn't sure if he looked completely ridiculous or just out of place. Maybe a bit of both.

The tie in his hands isn't something he wants to put on either. It's a matter of staying true to himself and "looking presentable."

It was his wedding after all.

His wedding. God, it didn't sound real, it didn't sound... Possible.

Billy Hargrove had believed he was destined to be alone. He was used to having sex with someone and never seeing them or speaking to them again. It was how he liked it- maybe he'd play with someone for a few weeks, but he didn't stick around. He never planned to- never wanted to.

Commitment was scary. It was something that Billy had never experienced before- having someone commit themselves to him and vice versa. Even in his familial life, no one had been committed to him.

His mom had left. His dad's only commitment was to make his life a living hell. Susan was a quiet bystander and Max... Well, actually, Max had been the only person in his family who tried sometimes. And they weren't even biologically related.

It was a lot better now. She was his sister. He never hated her- it took years to get where they were now.

"Do you know how to tie that?"

Speak of the devil and she shall appear.

Billy glared at his sister in the not too small but also not quite big enough mirror in front of him, the tie still in his hands. Max stood at the door in a woman's suit, a plain shirt under a blazer, her bright red hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

"Do you?" He said more harshly than he intended.

"Nope."

"Then shut up," he rolled his eyes as she fully stepped into the room, getting ready to take the tie from his hands, "what?"

"I'm sure we can hack it or whatever."

"I'm not wearing this fuckin' thing," his words were laced with disgust as if the piece of fabric offended him greatly. In some ways, perhaps it did because it didn't fit him. It wasn't him, "I can tie a tie. I just don't want to wear the damn thing."

"You can tie a tie? Since when?"

"Since you kept your smart ass mouth shut and minded your own fuckin' business, Max."

"So you can't tie it?"

Billy didn't even bother to offer a response. His nerves were too high, if not for that he'd have shot back at Max. Their banter was something he enjoyed nowadays- it had really become sibling-like.

But his stomach felt weird, and his chest felt tighter, his hands weren't as steady as usual- God he was nervous.

Billy Hargrove was actually fucking nervous; really nervous.

His fight or flight actually wanted him to take flight for once, and he was usually all fight. He hated it so much, it felt so weak and naked. Like he was laid bare for the world to attack.

He knew it was fine, but anxiety liked to think otherwise. People didn't look at Billy and think "anxiety" but it was something he was familiar with. But he was good at hiding. Good at making it look like anger.

"Wow, you're actually nervous," Max says with some amount of disbelief. But how could she expect otherwise, he was getting married, to someone he loved more than he ever thought he could love. Someone special.

You.

"Gee Max, thanks for pointing out the goddamn obvious,- really appreciate that."

Frayed nerves were a dangerous look on Billy Hargrove.

Max held her hands up in defense and even surrender. To what? To whatever banter they were brewing that could end in an actual fight if she wasn't careful in those moments.

The redhead felt for him. She really did. Sure, seeing him actually not in control of the situation and looking so out of his element elicited the smallest of smiles on her face, but aside from that, she felt for him.

The two had managed to find that sibling relationship they both wanted but hadn't realised how badly they wanted it. You had helped, sure, you were a tether between them sometimes. But Starcourt, almost dying on Billy's part, that's what really did it.

Before then, after the incident at the Wheelers home with the baseball bat and everything, the two step-siblings found themselves stuck in some weird limbo with one another.

They were at a point where Billy knew Max wouldn't deal with his shit like before and Max would fight back. A point where they still argued, and he still drove her around begrudgingly because of his father and her mother, but a point that was no longer as volatile. It was a point that swam dangerously close to the shore, one that needed help finding itself and just exactly where they were.

They were almost like siblings. But something was there still. Anger maybe, a misunderstanding.

And Starcourt changed it all. Things were put into perspective, Max had almost lost her brother, and Billy had done things that...

Well, to put it simply, it forced the two to talk. To really speak. And a few years down the line, they really were like siblings. They are siblings.

So how could she not feel for him at that moment; Max had come to know him well.

"Look, I'm sure it's all gonna be okay," unsure of how to help, Max offered her words slowly, and when he didn't respond she continued, "it'll be a few minutes of your life- listening to some old man talk and then saying I do. It's easy. Then you can spend the rest of your life never wearing a suit again."

"It's not the stupid fuckin' suit," Billy snaps, throwing the tie to the side, not caring where it lands, "It's not justthe stupid fuckin' suit."

Words left unsaid linger in the air but Max is fairly sure she knows what the problem really is.

"You've been with them for years," Max says resolutely, picking the tie up from the ground, "and you've been living with them for at least two. You're basically already like a married couple, all you're doing now is making it official. You've been committed this whole time and so have they, just not on paper."

Max was right. Billy had been with you for years now, the two of you had a little house together (still in goddamn Hawkins- he couldn't leave Max to deal with his dad till she was old enough to move on her own- and it was sort of growing on him. Only a bit) and he wanted no one but you.

It was always going to be you for him, he had come to accept that years ago. That was fact for him. And it took a lot of time, talks, and work for him to conclude that it would only ever be you.

Commitment was scary. But hadn't he been committed all along? Just not on paper, not by law.

It eased his mind a smidge- but he was still wound tight. He supposed he'd just have to go do it, get married, and just deal with the anxiety of it all because it wouldn't just go away.

He wanted you. As much as he could have you, in every way he could.

"I ain't wearing the fuckin' tie," Billy finally mutters, akin to a child, "and I'm not keeping this shit buttoned all the way up. Look like a goddamn butler."

Billy's already unbuttoning a few of the white shirts buttons, revealing his chest more. There's a gnarly-looking scar in the center, one that reminded him of bad times. But one he had slowly come to accept.

It looked kind of badass too.

"They'll probably appreciate that."

Max puts the tie on the table in the room and shrugs her shoulders, making her way to the door.

"You better hurry up, or you'll be the one walking down the aisle with flowers while they're the ones at the other end."

Billy scoffs. Him, holding flowers and walking down the aisle? No way in hell.

Max is gone, and Billy is alone in the room again. He looks at himself and feels a bit more like himself. Shirt more open, no ugly tie, earring in his ear (the matching earring to the set is in yours) and his hair is wavy, curly; a single curl falls over his forehead.

Breathe in deep. Let it out.

Goddamn. He's not sure he'll ever feel ready. But he knows that he is ready.

Maybe he doesn't really care too much about 'marriage.' He knows you are already his, it's just words, law. But if it makes you happy, then he's going to do it. Besides, you having his last name sounds kind of nice. 

[frankenfaandom]

I WANNA REQUEST MORE IF UR WILLING! Could you do like, prom Mary Goore x gender neutral reader?

Prom Mary Goore? Fuck yes.

Mary Goore x gn!reader

Sorry this took so long, I wrote most of it during the hurricane and then forgot to finish it until this morning. Also, as most of my mary fics go, yall aren't exactly together-together? More of implied and not confirmed. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Desc: mary/reader are seniors in HS, both 18/19.

You and Mary were total opposites. You showed up to class, did the minimum work to get an alright grade--you liked school dances, as stupid as it was.

But Mary? No, Mary was at school perhaps once a week if he could get away with it. Eventually, he couldn't get away, and he got expelled. So, there goes your lunch buddy. Hello, bathroom sandwich.

You hadn't exactly been dating at the time. But April came around, and it was prom season. It was all over Instagram, prom-posals and dress shopping on stories. Adds popped up relentlessly on David's Bridal and Windsor. It was a brutal season for you cause, A) you had no one to go with, and B) the only one you wanted to go with had zero interest in school dances. Mary Goore.

One day he'd picked you up after school and you did homework at his house, every two minutes you'd sigh dramatically and wait for him to ask "shut the fuck up or tell me what's wrong."

And that he did!

"Dude, if you don't-"

"I'm sad!" He scans your face for sarcasm, but none is found, just pouty lips and puppy dog eyes.

"...Should I even ask why?" He retorts, slouching back in his recliner. The thing was old, and there were too many springs and things popping out of it. It wasnt a suprise when you found out he'd stolen it from the side of the road in the middle of a thunderstorm.

"Yes. You should. And then you can help me on not being sad." You say matter-of-factly, biting the clicker on your pen. You eye him, waiting.

"Okay. Fine. Why are you sad?" You pounce quickly, forgetting your homework as you sit down on the armrest of his seat.

"Have you ever heard of this little thing.. it's very lowkey, kind of underground..."

"I am not going to a school dance with you." He glares up at you, but your pouty face makes his expression soften.

"Pleaaasseeeeeeee..." You wrap your arms around his head, pulling him into your chest. "I want to experience it. I only get one prom, and everyone says it's awesome--so, obviously it's gonna be a shit show." Mary grimaces at your words. "And you know how much I love to invite you to shit shows." You grin.

"Oh yeah, like your AP art show--OW-" He winces as you slap his arm, hard.

"Fuck off with that. This is all I ask. I'll never ask for anything ever again. Ever!"

"Doll, we both know that's a big fat fuckin lie." He rolls his eyes, but brings his arms up to half-ass hug you. "But fine. You owe me... like, wear something skimpy underneath."

"Dirty dirty, Mary Goore." You giggle, kissing the top of his head messily. "Thankyou thank you thank you!" You know he's joking about the skimpybunderwear, but you're already mentally going through which panties to wear. Will you even wear a bra? Probably unnecessary-

Mary brings you out of your excited thoughts with a pinch to your thigh. "You're thinking too hard. You'll get wrinkles." He rubs the crinkle between your eyebrows, stifling a laugh.

"Hey, don't make fun of me. Those are hereditary." You grin.

A couple weeks pass, and, yeah. Yeah, prom's tonight.

"I feel fucking stupid." And he looks fucking stupid with that sexy devil's lock and the suit you'd picked out. You try not to laugh, giving him what you think to be a reassuing smile.

"You look fine. Weird, cause, duh. But I think you look handsome as fuck." You walk closer, fixing his.. absolutely terribly knotted tie. You'd be surprised at how many knots he tied before realizing it was all wrong. Like, 5 too many.

"You're talking out of your ass." He snorts, scowling toward the mirror. "Seriously though, this feels ridiculous. Feels like I'm trying to be someone I'm not, you know? I thought we were done with that." He gets serious for a moment, and you frown.

"...Then let's fuck it up." It was a cheap suit from some Catholic thrift shop down the street named "Holy Trinity" or something, so, Mary was more than pleased to tear the thing up. You can see it in his eyes.

"You mean it?" He grins, almost like a kid who was promised another bowl of icecream. You nod, of course you mean it.

"Fuck it up, Mare. Here, let me help you." You grab the sleeve, ripping it clean off. A gasp leaves your mouth, accompanied by a wide smile. Damn, didn't expect that to work so well.

Mary grins, making a little excited sound before grabbing the other sleeve and attempting to take it clean off like you did--failing miserably. He doesn't let it defeat him though, and he tries a second time, succeeding.

"I got an idea." You run to his room. You basically live at his house, so you know every nook and cranny in his closet. Finding what you wanted, you bring it back out to him excitedly.

"We can mix and match. Put those sexy skinny Jean's back on and I think we can make this work." Another hour of getting dressed, and you're both wearing completely different outfits.

Mary walked out of the house with a deep red button up, a black tie with Jason's mask on it, those sexy skinny jeans and some nice loafers. On top, he added his special sleeveless jacket. Yeah, that didn't add to it much, but he insisted, and he was hot regardless of being fashionable or not.

Soon you arrived, parked, and walked inside... a little late, but no matter. It was.. fucking lame, that's what it was. There were friend groups dancing together, girls grinding on guys and vice versa. It felt like middle school all over again, you grimaced ten minutes in when the two of you sat at a table stuffing your faces.

"The food isn't even that good." You whisper yell over the terrible taste in music. The DJ will play justin bieber every once in a while, like, 2012 JB which is acceptable. But by the time he plays Havana thrice? You're pulling Mary out the back door to the karaoke room.

Some girl is singing her heart out on stage while her friends are basically whispering into the microphones, but blonde chick in the middle's having the time of her life. You wait, watch until it's too cringy to bare, and then Mary pulls you back inside.

You feel terrible for dragging Mary with you... and spending like 50 bucks on his ticket. He looks almost miserable, awkwardly standing around because he absolutely doesnt belong. But neither do you, so, you tug at your sleeves before going up to apologize.

But Mary stops you, grabbing your hands. "Hey, the music's lame, the food's kinda shit. But let's dance. You're only 18 and a senior once. You said it yourself," He's shouting over the music, grinning ear to ear. "let's just say fuck it and fuck it!"

You couldn't have said it better yourself. "Fuck it!" You race him to the dance floor, grabbing him and flinging each other around. You hit quite a few fellow dancers as you jam, but nothing quite matters like Mary's smile. He's enjoying himself at a place he swore he'd never be, surrounded by people and teachers he swore he'd never see again.

The hours flew by faster than you thought, and soon you were among the last crowd of Prom-goers. The DJ relays a message on the intercom, letting everyone know that the last dance will start shortly and then everyone needs to go home. Happily, Mary takes your hand as half the people leave the dance floor to go find their respective dance partners.

He bows as the music stops momentarily. "Will you do me the honor and have this dance with me, doll?"

"Oh, but of course." You do a little curtsey before he kisses the back of your hand. "You flatter me, Mr. Goore.."

He drags you closer, wrapping his arms around your torso. "You look wonderful tonight. Like everynight." He compliments into your ear as you wrap your arms around his neck. You could feel your face turn a million shades of red.

"So do you, Mare. Silly, but quite adorable." You say, quietly as the music. Was this happening? Slow dancing with Mary at prom, this was real? It feels like a dream you'd wake up from in the morning and immediately laugh at how absurd it was.

But it isn't a dream.

"Thanks for forcing me out." He says after a long moment of swaying, heartbeat impossibly fast. "This place is lame, but you made it so much better." Your cheeks flush again at how close he is to your face, his lips in your ear and his cheek pressed to yours softly.

You pull away, heart beating. Mary looks down at you curiously, wondering what you're doing--and that's when you kiss him.

He kind of stiffens, before his arms tighten around your waist and he pulls you closer. It's a soft kiss, softer for one Mary Goore. He pulls away shortly, opening his eyes again.

"Did you-?"

"I did-"

"Well-" You both say in unison, before you both burst out in a fit of giggles and laughter.

"I.. meant it." You say quickly, hoping to get the first word in. "I like you. I like your lips, your smile. Your eyes. I like your "fuck it" attitude. Your voice, oh my~" You dramatically swoon in his arms.

Mary pinches your back, stopping you with a flustered grin. "Okay, okay, I get it, I get it."

"I like you, Mary Goore. Can I kiss you again?" Mary unmistakably turns pink again, pupils visibly widened.

"I would like that." He nods, but he's the one connecting your lips again. The kiss is sweet, longer than the last, but still somehow... chaste and gentle.

"I like your lips, too." Mary starts, bringing a hand to your cheek. "I like your smile. I like the way you laugh at the stupid things I say. I love that you brought me here--" He caresses your cheek. "--I love... everything about you. Now, can we get out of here?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

[zegrasdrysdale]

under the mistletoe [ n. hischier ]

day one of malia’s christmas fic marathon

pairing : Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary : Nico needs a date for the Devils Christmas party so he turns to his best friend and asks if she doesn't mind being his fake date to the party

warning(s) : none. just enjoy the fluff :)

author’s note : day one is here. 11 more days to go. y’all are gonna be experiencing all kinds of up and downs during this fic marathon, but i hope y’all have a lot of fun

༺═──────────────═༻

The texts come through while she's already getting dressed for one of her other friend's party.

neeks 𓆩♡𓆪 - 6:01 pm i need to ask you for a huge favor. can you be my date for the devs christmas party tn ?

it starts at 7:30 and pally is hosting this year

i'll pick you up in like 45 mins and drive us both over. there will be lots of free food and drinks. can you please come with me ?

The only reason she agrees to go is because she's getting ready for a Christmas party. She has her makeup done and she can definitely get her hair done in less than forty-five minutes. Nico is always early for things so she expects him to show up a few minutes early to pick her up.

She has on a short dark red dress with spaghetti strap sleeves. It falls just past her ass and hugs her body. It has a dark sparkle to it when it hits the light. She pairs the dress with matching heels.

A loud knock rings through her small apartment as she's tying her slicked back hair into a tight ponytail. As soon as she's done, she runs to the front door in her heels.

On the other side stands Nico in one of his game day suits. He has on a red tie instead of a black one. His hair is gelled back and he's clean shaven. His big brown eyes take her in as soon as the door opens.

"Wow, look at you, Hischier," she teases as she leans against the doorway. She also just really needed to say something because she could feel her cheeks getting hot the longer Nico stared at her. "You clean up nicely."

Nico lets out a light laugh. "This is nothing," he replies. "I wear a suit like this pretty much every day."

She grabs her dark red jacket from the hook by the door. "I was talking about this," she comments as she pats Nico's smooth cheek. "Anyway, is the party at Pally's place or did he rent something out like Jack did last year?"

"In Jack's defense, he had a pretty small apartment," Nico tells her as they take the elevator down to the first floor. "He didn't have Luke living with him yet so he had to rent something out. But yes, it is in Pally's house this year. I heard he went all out with decorations and catering."

He holds the door to the building open so (Y/N) can click through it in her heels. Nico is right behind her. "Cool," she replies. "I've never been to Ondrej's house. His wife and little girl are so sweet though."

They're settled in Nico's car when he looks over. "Um, so I just wanted you to know that I may have told the team in a heat-of-the-moment thing that I was going to be bringing my girlfriend to the party," he admits to her.

(Y/N)'s eyes widen when she realizes what it means. "Are you telling me that you need me to fake being your girlfriend tonight?" she asks.

"I told you it was a huge favor," Nico reminds her. "Please say that you will do it. I don't want to be seen by my team as a liar so I need you to be my girlfriend for tonight only. If it's a lot then you don't have to but I would really-"

"Okay," she interrupts. "Tonight only. I want the full girlfriend experience though. No half-assing it, got it? I want hand holding and arms around my shoulders while we're sitting together."

If she is going to be Nico's pretend girlfriend for the night, she wants to go all out. Not to mention that if this is going to be the only time she will be Nico's girlfriend then she wants the whole thing.

The whole damn thing.

"Got it," he replies. "Anything else?"

"Not unless you think something is right to do at that moment."

༺═──────────────═༻

The Palat house is stunning. The snow that has fallen over the last few days makes it even more gorgeous. The outdoor decorations brighten up the building.

Cars are already parked up and down the street even though it’s still a little early. Nico helps (Y/N) out of his car when they park so she doesn’t slip on the ice that’s on the sidewalk. He offers her his arm and she happily hooks hers with his.

“I’m happy you agreed to come with me,” Nico says to her as they walk up the shoveled pavement to the front door. “I know I kind of tricked you into coming with me as my girlfriend but I get to hang out with my best friend all night so it’s a win-win for both of us.”

Best friend. The ultimate friendzone.

It’s a win-win for Nico. All she gets out of it is free food and a glimpse at what it would be like to be in an actual relationship with Nico.

“Yeah.” She puts a smile on her face despite how she feels and Nico rings the doorbell. (Y/N) lets out a quiet sigh as the door swings open.

Ondrej stands on the other side when the door swings open. “Welcome, guys,” he says. “Everyone is getting a drink and talking in the living room until dinner is ready. Come on in.”

Nico greets his teammate with a clap on the back and (Y/N) gives him a hug and a “it’s nice to see you again” before the two of them head into the living room. Palat takes her jacket before they go see the rest of the boys in the living room. Nico has his hand in hers as they turn the corner into the room.

Every single pair of eyes in that room is on (Y/N) and Nico. The guys that brought someone with them sit or stand with them at their side. Nearly everyone has a drink in their hand.

“When were you going to tell us that (Y/N) was your girlfriend, Nico?” Jack asks from the couch. “When we make playoffs and she got a jacket?”

Nico smiles and shakes his head. “I was going to tell you all eventually,” he tells his team. “We’ve just been enjoying the new change in our relationship. Right, liebling?”

In the years that she’s known him, she hears some of the names he’s called his girlfriends. She’s even looked some of them up because she didnt know what they meant.

The fact that Nico just called her one of his German nicknames sends a chill up her spine.

She shivers a bit and takes a step closer to Nico. “Yes,” she eventually agrees when she recovers enough to form words. “We’ve been enjoying our little bubble. We weren’t ready for it to burst but when Nico said that his teammates wanted to be introduced, I couldn’t say no.”

(Y/N) looks up at him with a smile on her face and wraps her arm around his. Nico looks down at her and mirrors her smile.

“I think it’s about time,” Jesper says from the other side of the room. “I mean, the way he talks about you in the locker room sometimes, (Y/N). I was hoping the two of you were together.”

That’s news to her. “Oh, what do you say about me in the locker room?” she asks sweetly to Nico. “I hope it is all appropriate.”

Some of the guys snicker, which results in their own date swatting them on the shoulder.

Nico’s face turns light red. “Just about how much I like being with you,” a flustered Nico replies. “I say that I can’t wait to see you when I know that we have plans. I tell them how happy I am when I know you’re up in the suite at home games. The usual stuff, you know?”

His words surprise her, especially because they aren’t actually together. He’s been making it sound like they are together.

It throws her off a little but she decides to play along.

“I say the same thing to my friends,” she lies. “About how excited I am to watch him play or when I know we are going out after. I especially tell them about how hot I think he is with that ‘C’ on his chest. I mean I have to cool off a little when I think about it sometimes.”

There are a few whistles around the room and (Y/N) stares up at Nico with a sly smile on her face.

It isn’t a lie. Nico might be her best friend but she has wished for years that he would see her as more than his best friend. She talks about how hot he is to her other friends all the time. Especially when he’s on the ice.

“You’re both so disgustingly in love,” Jack comments. “The way you look at each other makes me sick.”

They must be better actors than they thought.

Well, at least Nico must be because (Y/N) doesn’t know how much acting she’s actually doing right now.”

Dinner is ready shortly after. Everyone gathers around the table as best they can with the room they have. She is sitting so close to Nico that she’s basically on his lap. Not that she would mind that but Nico would.

Chicken is served as the main course. Rolls, salad, and pasta are served on the side. (Y/N) devours all of it because it’s so good.

Haula’s wife, Kristen, sits next to (Y/N). She asks, “So how long have you and Nico been together?”

“Just a few weeks,” she replies as soon as she swallows her bite of salad. “It hasn’t been too long.”

“The honeymoon phase is the best part,” Kristen tells her. “Sometimes I think Erik and I are still in ours. It truly is the best time in any relationship. Enjoy it.”

She looks over at Nico, who is laughing at something Jonas said next to him. “I’m trying,” she replies.

After dinner and dessert, a couple of the guys leave. They thank Palat for hosting before heading out the door.

(Y/N) finds herself on the couch beside Nico with a glass of red wine in her hand. Nico has had a few beers tonight so either she’s driving home since she’s only had one glass of wine or they’re calling an Uber. She can tell that Nico isn’t all here right now.

He has an arm draped around her shoulders while he talks to Akira, Timo, Tyler, and Jack above something hockey related. It’s always hockey related with this group.

She quietly sips her wine while the five of them talk about their next game against Detroit.

It’s weird but when she looks around the room, she doesn’t feel out of place. She’s already friends with a bunch of the guys’ wives and girlfriends. She’s babysat some of their kids during or after games. She knows all the guys on the team.

The only thing that’s weird is that she isn’t actually his girlfriend. It sucks because she’s been in love with him for well over a year and he has no idea or hasn’t shown any interest in being with her.

“Uh oh,” Jack suddenly says. “Look up Nico.”

When Nico looks up, so does (Y/N). Jesper and Palat stand behind them. Jesper is holding a piece of fake mistletoe.

“Oh shit,” Dawson laughs. “Get it, cap.”

A few of the remaining guys laugh.

Nico looks over at (Y/N) and raises his eyebrows in question. “Should we give it to them?” he asks while chants of “kiss her” break out around the room.

Not unless you think something is right to do at that moment. That’s what she said when she agreed to come as Nico’s fake girlfriend.

This is that moment.

Without even answering the question, (Y/N) leans over into Nico and presses a chaste kiss to his lips. She can taste the beer he’s been drinking throughout the night from that quick kiss.

His eyes are wide when she sits back a little bit, but he it doesn’t look like he hated it.

Actually, Nico leans into her and presses a longer kiss to her lips. Her hand flies to the back of his neck and one of his hands falls to her thigh right under where her dress ends.

Without realizing she’s doing it, (Y/N)’s fingers are playing with the ends of his hair. She thought he needed a haircut recently but now she doesn’t mind his longer hair.

Nico is the first one to break the kiss. He pulls back slowly and meets her eyes. His lips are red and slightly kiss-bruised. Her heart races in her chest.

She’s afraid that something has truly shifted between them, then Nico whispers, “Wow.” All her fears melt away and she smiles at him.

“We didn’t need all that,” Timo teases.

“I feel like I’m intruding on something,” Erik says.

Suddenly, Nico stands up and pulls (Y/N) up with him. “I think we’re going to head out,” he tells everyone. “I will see you all at practice tomorrow morning. Have a good night.”

Before she can protest, (Y/N) is being herded toward the Nico. Nico quickly helps her put her jacket on before they walk out into the cold air. It’s started to snow again as they leave the house.

The door shuts behind them and (Y/N) finally asks, “Why are we leaving?”

“Because,” Nico stammers. “Because-” He’s cut off when she slips on some ice. He quickly grabs her at the waist and holds her up so she doesn’t fall. Her entire body is pressed against him. “Because I was a little mad that our first kiss happened under some mistletoe.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Our first kiss?” she asks. “I don’t understand. I thought that was going to be our only kiss.”

Nico’s hands slide under her jacket and grip her waist. His nose grazes hers as he asks, “What if I don’t want to only have one kiss with you?”

Her heart jumps in her chest and she prays that Nico didn’t feel it. “I don’t want that to be our only kiss,” she softly tells him. “I’ve been waiting forever to kiss you, Nico. I don’t want that to be the only time I kiss you.”

He takes her chin between his thumb and pointer finger. “Then kiss me like you mean it this time, liebling.” Nico’s voice is a whisper when he talks.

(Y/N) doesn’t hesitate. She gets higher on her toes and presses a hard and deep kiss to his lips.

It might be freezing and snowing, but all she can feel is the warmth against her lips and her body. She never wants to let go now that she’s had a taste.

༺═──────────────═༻

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taglist : @dancerbailey3 @dasiysthings

[revnah1406]

Hey, Rev! 👀 You got mail! It’s crank time! 💌

5. “Guilty pleasures?”

11. “What was your childhood dream job?

12. Do you have any pets?”

13. “How many siblings do you have? Are you oldest, middle, or youngest?”

29. “How different is your actual adult self from how you pictured it when you were little?”

HEY MY DEAR!! WOOOO 🧡🧡✨✨✨

5. Guilty pleasures?

I usually say that I don't like country music. It feels like it's too American stereotype (it also reminds me of Grave from MW hahahab). But DARK COUNTRY? HOHOHOHOHO!! I don't know why, but it kicks so hard. I love the vibes that gives that music style (villain era kind of style you know?) it's perfect when I dissociate and think about my ocs and fics hahaha!

Let me give you some examples!

11. What is your childhood dream job? (Already answered but I'll leave it here for you!)

I WANTED TO BE AN ASTRONAUT OR A PALEONTOLOGIST SO BAD!! Dinosaurs and Space were my OBSESSION when I was young (it still is hahahaha!) 🚀🌌🌕🦕🦖

12. Do you have any pets?

Sadly no. I WOULD LOVE TO HAVE PETS. But at home they don't want to (Pfff boring people hahaha!) but my bf has a dog I see him very often so does that count hahaha?

13. How many siblings do you have? Are you oldest, middle, younger?

I have one big brother. He's three and a half years older than me (me: 21/him:24). When we were young we used to fight a lot but now we get along so well! When we were kids we couldn't stand each other (yeah I suffered the big siblings' bully. Young siblings I feel you, you are not alone ✊🏻💪🏻) but now mostly all the plans that we do we do it together, sometimes is weird to see us separated. I guess the age gap is smaller when you grow up. But I love him and I wouldn't change him for anything!

29. How different is your actual adult self from how you pictured it when you where little?

Mmmhh I'm trying to do what I love since I was a kid, which is trying to live from my art (and I'm getting there! I hope hahaha), so in that aspect I don't think it changed too much.

But it's true when I was a kid I thought that at the age of 21 I would already have my own house in the mountains with 50 dogs hahahahahaha! Oh little Rev... How Naive you were, but we will fight for that dream hahaha!

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASK LOVE! LOVE YA! MWAH MWAH 🧡🧡🧡🧡✨✨

[niennawept]

tag game - tag 9 people you want to get to know better

tagged by @metatomatoes <3

Favorite color: deep emerald green, followed by a kind of blueish lavender.

Last song: The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie by Colter Wall; horror folk kick is going strong.

Currently reading: The Fellowship of the Ring by JRRT; Unfinished Tales by JRRT, ed. by Christopher Tolkien; The Bear and the Nightingale by Katherine Arden; Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë; Oathbringer by Brandon Sanderson. ...I think that's it?

Last movie: Last movie I intentionally sat down to watch or last movie that was on in my general vicinity? I guess I'll answer both since I'm not sure. I think the last movie I watched on purpose was Crimson Peak (2015) for research because I'm trying to plot out a gothic romance AU fic. And the last movie that was on in my general vicinity was Chopping Mall (1986) because my partner loves off-beat old horror movies. I've seen House on Haunted Hill (1958) more than I've seen any other movie because of this.

Sweet/spicy/savoury: I have a strong sweet tooth (ADHD craves easy dopamine sources) but I do really like savory things too.

Currently working on: the chapter past the current one of Scars of Silver and Gold; a series of non-continuous but interconnected drabbles about Melkor's time imprisoned by the Valar; a Nienna cosplay for a con next month (concern).

No pressure tags: @glorf1ndel, @elithilanor, and any one to whom this looks like fun.

[zealousleopard]

The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie - Henry Cooldown x OC

Hi, this has been in the vault for over a few months. I have an intense amount of brainrot over Henry Cooldown, and made a character to keep him company after his divorce with Sylvia. This is the first part of maybe Two (2), this includes their backstory and such.

Also pay no mind to how i draw Henry, thats how he looks in my Mind (tm). (And the fact that the title of this fic is the name of a song on my characters playlist,,,)

Anyway, its 5,351 words under the cut, and I hope you enjoy!

The scarred woman wielded a long and heavy broadsword, and her black eyes were as cold as its gleam. With spurred cowboy boots on her feet, she could be heard from a mile away, not caring less if her enemies could hear her coming. Her name? Maeve Marie.

She was known as one of the deadliest assassins in North America. Countless enemies and assassins alike had called her the hardest bitch they'd ever met, and it's rumored no one had ever lived to see her smile.

But, there was one man whom she had a soft spot for, and in all of the ten years she’d known him, she only called him by his last name.

Nine years ago, before Maeve was able to gain as much of her infamy, she was tracking down yet another target of hers. It was another ranked match with some really flashy fella.

She was never one to care about reputation and reverence (unlike many others who shared her line of work), but she still participated in matches because the dough was decent.

Right as she was about to let herself be known to her opponent, something unbelievable happened.

There was a flash of bright purple light, and before Maeve could do anything else, her glittering foe was cut clean in half.

Needless to say, she was absolutely pissed. How dare somebody she didn’t even know waltz into her match and steal her kill? The poor bastard didn’t even get a chance to scream before he was sliced in two.

She glared at the perpetrator behind her opponent's (now divided) corpse, her broadsword already unsheathed from its holster.

The thief was a sharply dressed man carrying a beam katana. Upon first glance, Maeve didn’t recognize the guy. Blinded with rage, she began marching right up to him.

“Miss Marie, is it not?”

An Irish cadence left his mouth. She didn’t stop walking upon hearing him, nor did she answer his question, but she did slow her stride. Narrowing her eyes, she began to inspect the man in front of her.

Tall and slender, three-piece suit, a beam katana to wield, and Irish. She wasn’t one to care for gossip or rumors, but based on what she’d heard through the grapevine, the fucker who had just stolen her kill was none other than—

“Henry. Henry Cooldown.”

He spoke again, the ends of his lips upturned, leaving him with a small smile. She only glared daggers at him in return.

The rest of that encounter was filled with an intense battle, one that surprised the Irishman himself. Despite her cumbersome weapon, she was swift and agile on her feet. Tales of the silent southern belle proved to be true. Maeve was more than a formidable foe, their scuffle had lasted hours before Henry had somewhere else to be.

That fateful night was not the last the two assassins would see of each other, oh no. In fact, it was the start of a fiery rivalry between them. Each time they dueled, it was exhilarating-- and the banter between them was always rich.

Henry took great amusement in making any of his opponents pissed off. But with Maeve, it was oh too easy. What she lacked in chattiness and pleasantries, she never failed to make up for in combat. What little she did say was always as sharp as her blade. He felt fulfillment in battles with her, and that was something that he scarcely felt with…

Sylvia.

She was the typical French bombshell, a rude shopaholic who always had things her way. While she was quite spontaneous, Henry found a way to categorize her chaos into a schedule, one that he swore by. He was a man of patterns and rhythms, keeping things clean and precise in his life like a true gentleman would.

Sylvia was Henry's wife of four years by the time that Henry and Maeve met. They had gotten married in college, when they were both only 17 years old. How Henry fell in love with a woman like Sylvia was very… unclear, but she was his rock nonetheless.

However, as the years passed and his rivalry with that specific assassin grew older, he found Maeve's presence a welcome distraction from his orderly schedule. She gave off a gruff color to his rather uniform life. Her brief speech and skill on the battlefield provided turbulence in his routine, something that he quite enjoyed.

In fact, the assassins' rivalry between one another had sparked up quite the rumors around Santa Destroy. Onlookers assumed that they were together, or if not, that they had already been there and done that.

Henry always scoffed at the gossip, being unimpressed and deeming it distasteful. It was clear that he would never do anything to jeopardize his marriage with Sylvia (no matter how many times she would borrow one of his credit cards and not return it).

He was many things, but a cheater would never be one of them. It wasn't in his character to be an unloyal man, and he didn't see the point in being unfaithful to Sylvia after all of the patience he had already extended.

They had been married so long that he figured the two of them were in it for the long haul, and he was quite satisfied with that. Besides, he was a gentleman, and cheating was trashy by his standards.

When Maeve caught wind of the rumors at first, she wasn't pleased either. Hell, she was furious. The talk around Santa Destroy was nothing but bullshit, and proof that people needed to keep their nose in their own damn business.

In all of her years of living she never met a man who talked in the specific way he did. With the specific type of dry, sarcastic humor he had. Who always wore the most formal clothes, regardless of their typically gruesome line of work. Frankly, he confused the hell out of her.

So, why did Maeve feel the way she did about Henry, regardless?

Soon enough, the pure feelings of annoyance and rivalry Maeve bore for Henry all these years grew into stronger emotions that she couldn’t quite explain—nor stand. The realization that she kept fighting Henry because she actually was attracted to him was something she didn’t want to come to terms with quite yet, or ever.

In order to get her feelings in check, she quit seeking Henry out in exchange for other jobs and work. So, she promptly left Santa Destroy behind. Her next weeks were very busy, searching for distractions of any kind in hopes of getting the Irishman out of her head.

The first few months on the road were tolerable enough. But as time went on she grew more and more restless, relying on her vices to get her from job to job. Scattered work across the country, taking in multiple jobs a night, countless motel rooms, and bars filled her time.

Eventually, an entire year had passed before work started to slow down for the southern belle, a predicament which left her with no other options. She had to go back to Santa Destroy.

Finally, after a long train ride from butt fuck nowhere, Maeve finally arrived once again to the assassins' hub it was. She quickly navigated herself to the familiar United Assassin's Association, looking for more work.

She didn’t expect to see Henry there.

His eyes locked on her the moment she walked into the waiting room. He was surprised, that was for sure. It had been a while, an entire year, yet he felt the same old rush as he saw her again. He had to suppress a smirk when his eyes landed on her weapon.

Her wide and heavy broadsword was resting against her back, inside its large sheath. It was a blade that Henry had grown to know well throughout the years of their rivalry. Oh, the games they could have...

"Hello, Maeve." He greeted, casually raising a hand to smooth his tie. "It's been a while, hasn’t it? I was wondering if you'd decided to leave this all behind."

He was careful of his tone, making his words come off as more teasing than flirtatious. Yet the intention was obvious, and he knew she would pick up on it.

"You wondered wrong." She scoffed at his question. The reality was that Maeve had been working nearly double the amount since she had last seen Henry.

"What, you missed me?" She asked rhetorically, alluding to the countless battles they've had against one another.

Henry leaned forward, putting every ounce of his attention on her.

"I'm a man of routine, and the last couple months have been decidedly routine-less." He said, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he continued.

"You were part of that routine, Maeve. I wanted to see if maybe you had changed your mind about our little tradition."

He wasn't even trying to be subtle. He wanted her to come back. So bad it hurt. And he was about to push the issue further if she didn't agree.

Henry's smirk was accompanied by a casual nod of respect when she responded with a simple grunt. This woman was an assassin, after all- not someone you try to charm with empty words.

"Tell me something, Maeve." His voice remained low. He wasn't really trying to charm her anymore- just to remind her of why they were so much fun together.

"Was I on your mind as much as you were on mine over the last year?"

There was always something different that Henry had over the other men Maeve had met. Something infuriating, that leaves her more confused whenever he is around. That was the precise reason he hadn’t left her mind at all. And the reason she left.

Maeve tried to bite down the warm feelings in her stomach upon hearing his words. She looked away from him, stuffing her hands in her front jean pockets.

"You wish."

A low, warm chuckle escaped him at her words. Henry didn't bother hiding his amusement. In fact, he even turned his entire body to look at her. This woman was impossible to manipulate and so stubborn that she would sooner cut off her own hand before admitting someone was right.

It was endearing... and sexy.

"Oh, come on now. Don't be like that." He said. He was getting somewhere. He could feel it…

Maeve rolled her eyes, she wouldn’t say a damn thing. Besides, her chances with the assassin were slim to none.

She’d never have a shot with the Irishman, no matter how much he was on her mind. Maeve and Henry were rivals, and that's all they'd ever be. She just had to settle for that.

"You're starting to piss me off, Cooldown."

His smug smile widened at her words. She was just as stubborn as ever, but he knew she was just being coy.

"You know, I think you like it when I annoy you," He said. "It's cute."

He was right yet again, but she refused his claims, as she always had. Maeve found her patience growing thinner the more she listened to his goading. Her lips curled down into a scowl.

"You know, I can tell you're interested. You're getting flustered. Your eyes are darting all over the place." He said, a smug smirk on his face.

The bastard was loving it. It only caused her to get even more pissed, tremendously so. Her scowl deepened further as she glared at him through her hair. If she hadn't wanted to fight him before, there was no doubt about it now.

"You can't tell shit." Maeve spat at him, her voice filled with venom.

"Oh, I can tell a lot more than you think I can." He said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth once again.

"You're definitely hiding something. Whether it’s your feelings or a knife behind your back, I'm not sure yet."

He stood up, putting his arms behind his back. Now that he had walked up to her, it was a bit harder for Maeve to hide how he made her feel. Maeve could smell his cologne with how close he was, the smooth scent only fueling her frustration.

Henry's smirk slowly widened as they stood there, faces mere centimeters apart. The tension in the air was suffocating, but it only served to excite him further.

"Maybe I should frisk you to find out."

He dared her to do something. Any reaction from her would be met with his own, and the outcome would be glorious.

Suddenly, her left hand shot up from the inside of her pocket and instantly wrapped around Henry's wrist. Before he could say another word, Maeve pulled him out of the United Assassination Association, not caring what he was there for in the first place. They were on our way to duel somewhere, now.

He followed her out of the Association, not sure what she had in mind, but he certainly wasn't resisting. Maeve's stride was fast as she held onto his wrist, dragging him along. He made sure to keep up with Maeve's frantic pace, easily able to match her stride.

They were on the way to the site of the last battle they had, a whole year ago. It was a rooftop on one of the tallest buildings in Santa Destroy.

"Did you finally come to your senses and decide to resume our tradition?" Henry asked, his voice calm and collected despite his racing mind.

"I believe it was you who was on the losing end last time we fought," He said calmly, smirk still intact.

"Shut the hell up. I'm putting you in your place." She barked at him in reply.

They got to the building after a short walk, and after multiple flights of stairs (all of which Maeve's hand never left Henry's wrist), they arrived on the rooftop.

He stopped them when they reached the roof, turning around to face her. "Let's try and make it as fun as last time." He said. "No mercy."

She finally let go to stand across from him, unsheathing her broadsword from its holster on her back. She was still very much pissed, frustrated (in more ways than one), and ready to duel.

Henry wielded his beam katana, the weapon activating with a menacing drone. Once it was completely out, he took up a duelist stance. His sword held out in one hand, body facing Maeves, the other hand held in front of himself.

He didn't want to risk saying anything right now. So, in true assassin tradition, he nodded his head and gave her a slight wave.

The tension in the air was at an all time high, and Maeve wanted nothing more than for Henry to eat his words.

Maeve charged at him, starting the fight with haste.

This exchange of swings, jabs, and thrusts went on for what seemed like hours. They seemed to be evenly matched in this explosive battle, and it was nothing short of intense.

Maeve had some of the most fierce technique he had ever seen, the woman was like a wild animal. Yet, he still held his own, of course. His strikes and dodges were a reflection of his counterpart. Even in this state, he refused to let up.

"I thought you wanted to put me in my place?" He taunted. "Where is that place, exactly?"

As quickly as he was able to speak, he changed the momentum of the duel. Sweat started to form at Maeve's brow as he showered her with a seemingly endless amount of jabs and thrusts of his weapon.

With a powerful swing of his beam katana against her sword, it flew out of her hand and onto the pavement, skidding across the concrete. Maeve was now unarmed.

Before Henry could capitalize on this, she dashed behind him, locking two strong arms around his waist. Maeve then bent backwards, throwing him into a powerful german suplex.

He landed hard on his back, his sword flying from his grasp as he suppressed a groan of pain. His weapon clattered to the ground, leaving him unarmed as well.

That was certainly the smartest move Maeve made all night. As both arms locked around his waist, Henry’s mind was racing as to what to do here, but all he could feel was that rush... that rush he had always loved.

They were left to wrestle now.

"You had enough yet?" Maeve asked, her drawl coming through a bit strained as she grappled him.

She had him tight and firm, he was completely unable to escape her hold. The air on the rooftop grew hot as the tension between them grew more primal.

"Not even close," He said between pants. "You'll have to drag me to hell before I tell you that." He continued to struggle as he looked into her eyes, refusing to give her the victory she so desperately craved.

"Bet you’d like that, huh?" Maeve's black eyes glared daggers into his as she looked down at him with a scowl. Her fingers tightened around his wrists. She was always the better wrestler out of the two assassins.

"I would..." He said, his words coming out slightly more hoarsely than she might have been used to. Despite how tired and sore his arms were from trying to get out of her grasp, he continued to look forward, a smug grin on his face.

"But you'd like that even more," he teased. "You just love seeing me struggle like this, don't yo—"

"I'd love for you to shut the fuck up."

Maeve nearly growled at him. She couldn't outright deny his claims, as he was right. But she wasn't nearly as verbose and frankly, shameless, to admit it.

"Oh, darling- do not deny what's so obvious," he said, his tone of voice dripping with frustration. Her body was just so... hot. "I think you might even be enjoying yourself more than I am."

She pinned his wrists down over his head, making it even harder for him to move. Her legs were now straddling his hips.

This time when she moved, Henry didn't resist. Their faces were just inches apart from each other, their breath mixing. She could hear his heartbeat pounding through his chest, his body moving with her every movement.

Maeve would never admit it to anyone, but she had never felt so alive as she felt now, with him under her grip.

They had been here many, many times, but never had they been this close, in every possible sense. The two of their bodies struggled against each other, and he wanted more.

She wanted multiple things. One of those things was for Henry to finally close his damned mouth, and stop making her feel such intense emotions that she could do nothing with. She couldn't have him, no matter how much she wanted to kiss him right then and there.

The nerves between the two assassins were high as ever while he looked up at her with a smoldering gaze.

"You think you're in the driver seat right now." Henry said, his voice filled with snark. "But oh, dear Maeve," He teased, "You can't deny what's happening here."

He raised his eyebrows as he let his gaze flutter across her face. He knew he was breaking her down little by little. She was so close to admitting how she truly felt, he could feel it.

The air was charged with tension. Every hair on his body was on end and he could feel each and every heartbeat pound into his chest.

"I'm not admitting shit." She snarled at him.

Maeve was always a woman of few words, but even if she wasn't, there was no way she could verbalize just how much she longed for him all the years of their rivalry.

She had avoided him the entirety of last year in an attempt to lose her feelings for the married assassin, only for her silent, harbored affections for him to grow stronger against her will. She didn't understand what Henry wanted from her, why he wanted her to give in. It was pointless.

Henry laughed as he continued to look up at her. He loved her stubbornness.

"You can act as tough and cold as you want but I know you're thinking differently deep down." He said, his voice filled with arrogance.

He knew how to break her down, and he used every tool at his disposal to do so. As their eyes met, he knew he was winning. And he wasn't about to let up now.

"So goddamned what?" Maeve snapped at him, her temper beginning to unravel completely.

"That doesn't change the fact that you're married. You’ve been married for God knows how long, so what does it even matter?"

Henry raised an eyebrow, his grin growing wide.

"But dear, how do you know I'm still married?" He asked, his tone of voice slightly teasing.

He kept his nose pressed against hers, not backing down despite how close their faces were. In fact, he seemed to enjoy being this close, the heat and scents of their bodies against each other sending his heart racing even faster than before.

Maeve's black eyes immediately widened with disbelief. She stared at him, scanning his face for any traces of deceit. After a few intense moments of silence, she finally spoke.

"...What?"

"That's right, sweetheart," Henry said, his voice still low and filled with snark. "I'm not married anymore."

Maeve was shocked. If he was telling the truth, it would mean that her world had been flipped upside down.

She must have started avoiding Henry right before his divorce with Sylvia. If she had just stayed around for a little while longer…

Henry kept up his smirk as he watched Maeve's reaction. It was priceless, really. He kept his eyes on hers, her body close to his.

"And now your excuses are running thin. I feel it. I see it."

Maeve's grip on his wrists was dangerously loose as she sat on top of him, and when he spoke, she let them go completely. Her eyes were filled with emotion, ones of surprise, and disbelief, but Henry could see the hints of yearning and desire in them clearly.

He leaned his head in slightly, their noses touching again.

"All you want is to kiss me, isn't it? You're just too proud to admit it."

Without any warning, she cupped his face with her hands and crashed her mouth against his, kissing him with years worth of repressed passion. The moment he felt Maeve's lips press against his, Henry could hold back no longer.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her as close to him as he possibly could. He kissed her with the same intensity that they used to grapple with, the same intensity that had been brewing inside of him.

This was his moment. The moment he had been waiting for. He wanted her, and she wanted him. His lips didn't leave hers, his tongue exploring the depths of her mouth. All he wanted was her. And right now, he had her.

He would have stayed like this for hours, maybe even days, if he could. He needed to have her. The way her tongue explored his mouth, the way that she tasted on his lips... it was a perfect match.

All of those years, all of that desire, all that wanting... A few more long moments of the most passionate kiss of Henry's life, and Maeve briefly broke the kiss to catch her breath.

But alas, they could not stay like this forever. He tried his best to resist, but eventually Henry stopped kissing her for a moment.

He tried to speak. But he couldn't. His skin was hot to the touch, his breath catching in his throat. The taste of Maeve's lips was still on his tongue, every nerve in his body feeling alive with anticipation.

He knew he couldn't just sit there in silence.

"I..." He tried again. "I want you."

The words were out. For the first time, to anyone other than Sylvia, he had spoken about how he felt towards another person.

Although, it was worth it to see her face right now. Her eyebrows raised at his admission, she was seemingly surprised by his direct admission.

"How much?" She asked with one corner of her lips upturned. She was curious as to what he'd have to say. Henry didn't hold back.

"I want you with every fiber of my being. Every minute that we haven't been together feels like a torment to me," He whispered to her. He wished he was exaggerating at the moment, but he wasn't.

The words felt like a weight off his back for the first time. It was nice to be so clear about how he felt, and the fact that Maeve's expression was now filled to the brim with desire, made it even better.

She was clearly pleased with the fellow assassin's words, despite doing quite well to keep her composure. The thought that Henry really missed her when she disappeared that year ago, made her feel unbelievably fulfilled.

"Well, we oughta do something about that."

It was all Henry could do not to smile at Maeve's words. She was finally admitting she wanted this as much as he did, and that was everything he could ever ask for.

He nodded. "My apartment's just a stone's throw from here." He placed a slow kiss on her lips again, his tone of voice low and sultry. She leaned into his kiss and rested her forehead against his, keeping close as he spoke. "I'd like to take you there."

She finally rolled off of Henry. Crouching, she outstretched a hand for him so that he could stand as well. Henry took it and pulled himself up, dusting himself off, and wiping a bead of sweat away from his face.

He looked at Maeve, as if seeing her for the first time after the kiss.

"Thank you," He told her. They both knew what they were feeling now, and that was enough to see him through this night.

The two assassins picked up their weapons from the rooftop and made their way down the stairs. He took her hand, as he didn't want to spend another minute away from her.

The cool autumn air was pleasant as the two strolled on their way to Henry's apartment. As the two of them walked, the wind rustling the tree leaves, Henry finally felt as if everything was right once again. He was going to stay close to Maeve. Very, very close to her.

"So," he started, turning his gaze to Maeve's face as they walked on the sidewalk. "What else did you do in the year that we were apart?" He asked.

Maeve grunted, reminiscing of the entire year she hadn't seen Henry. She was avoiding him back then. Trying to distract herself from feelings she thought were unrequited.

"Work, really. Seeing where the wind blew me, finding jobs and clients there." She spoke casually, extremely so. Henry saw right through it. He tilted his head to the side.

"But, you must have been busy. Did anyone keep you company?" He turned his gaze back forward, still holding Maeve’s hand.

If anyone had made Maeve's heart race even halfway as much as he had, Henry knew there would be trouble. He wanted to be the only thing Maeve's heart beat for, even in the time they were apart. He needed to be.

“Nobody.” She answered honestly.

In truth, she felt so strongly for Henry that it made the concept of anyone else plain inadequate. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to admit that yet, to flatter the Irishman who had been on her mind.

"No one could..." she mumbled, seemingly adding that on accident. Maeve's gaze was on her boots, flickering between them and her hand that was still holding Henry's.

He didn't say anything. He already knew what Maeve's words meant. It was clear that in the year they had spent apart, that she had been unable to replace him. It sounded like she had been unable to even start a relationship with someone else. She hadn't tried.

It was the same with Henry. The year they had spent apart, he hadn't done anything that would even classify as romantic. Just like Maeve's words, his eyes gave it all away.

Henry didn't say anything at first. How could he? Maeve's confession earlier had made his whole world feel so right. So many times he had questioned why he felt so strongly for her. Why did he still feel that way?

Maeve had just answered every single one of those questions, and it wasn't with words at all. It was the way she held him by the hand. It was her gaze. And it was her silence.

He finally spoke.

"You don't have to worry, sweetheart,"

She queried an eyebrow when he did, wondering what he meant. Her expression urged him to continue.

"No one could ever compare to you." Henry continued, as the two of them continued walking toward his apartment.

"From the moment I met you, you were different from anyone else I’d battled. And in a way, I always hoped. I hoped that maybe, just maybe, what I felt was mutual. You just never made it too clear..."

He looked at Maeve's lips again.

"...until tonight."

"I couldn't." Maeve replied. "You had already been married for god knows how long. Why’d you and Sylvia split anyway?"

Henry turned his gaze away from Maeve's lips as he continued speaking. Those words were just about the last thing in the world that Henry felt like talking about right now, but she had reminded him that he hadn't told her everything yet.

"She cheated," He answered flatly.

Maeve's eyes widened at his admission. She was thoroughly shocked. "No fuckin’ way."

She couldn't fathom a man like Henry getting cheated on. Her hand squeezed Henry's tighter than it had before, without her noticing. Henry felt his hand being squeezed, but he didn't mind. In fact, he had started to squeeze her hand back.

Her fury and shock were both justified, as he had felt the exact same way. Sylvia had broken him in ways that no one ever had, but Maeve's presence was healing him more and more with every second that passed.

Her hand squeezing his made him feel like he was the luckiest man alive, despite all that had happened to him.

"It was... a bad time," He continued. "But it's water under the bridge. All that matters now, is us."

Us? She scoffed at his phrasing, as it seemed too good to be true. He made her feel so much with just a few slick words of his. He always had.

Returning to Santa Destroy was a last resort for her when the rest of work around the country was dry. Yet he held out for her. How did he even know that she'd come back? Her hand squeezed his again.

"You're goddamn crazy."

Henry chuckled.

"Maybe I am, to have ever thought that you would be so easy to get away from," He told her, giving Maeve's hand a quick squeeze in turn.

"It was like trying to avoid rain while living in Ireland," He said. "It was unavoidable."

He looked ahead, seeing the apartment building finally coming into view. Maeve shook her head as they walked up to his apartment, half in disbelief. But the small smile that was growing on her face told Henry all he needed to know. She even chuckled, a rare occurrence.

Henry turned to Maeve's face as he held the apartment's door open for her.

Her eyes. For some reason, her eyes just seemed so appealing. So captivating.

"Please, after you." He told her, gesturing inside.

She nodded, and walked into the apartment as he asked. Henry followed, locking the front door behind them.

[fanficsiwillneverwrite]

Currently experiencing the worst writers block for this fic but I’m pushing through and slowly but surely the words are forming

Mindless humans flood the streets of Manhattan with their wild hair and wide shoulders, all in a rush to be somewhere. A few teens listen to Springsteen on their boombox nearby: it is a song about loss, about oppression, but his upbeat voice disguises it as an American dream, and so the kids dance carelessly on their stoop. Crowley passes them and switches it to Queen just for the fun of it. They stop and ponder at the change. His lip twitches in devilish joy.

He enters an old brick building a few blocks down from them. Much like the ones outside, these humans also embrace the big hair and large shoulder pads—only much duller to better blend in with the office space. It reminds him a lot of headquarters downstairs. Most of this lot lost the gleam in their eyes the moment they asked, “When can I start?”

But the worker on the third floor in the eighth desk to Crowley’s left lost that light shortly after becoming the third Duke of Newcastle upon Tyne, circa 1768. He may look like an ordinary thirteen year old boy wearing a banal suit with a matching gray tie, but he is one of the greatest anomalies of all time. The demon finds a group standing beside the water cooler discussing the matter passionately:

“He just looks young for his age,” claims a woman. “He’s been here over thirty years.”

“He’s one of those, you know… small people,” another chimes in.

The woman beside him shakes her head in disagreement. “He’s a boy genius. Probably skipped a few dozen grades to get here.”

“Why would a boy genius choose to work here? As an accountant?”

“Maybe he was cursed by a demon or something,” says a young lad. His coworkers all ignore him and he sips his drink unbothered as Crowley pushes past them. Their paper cups dissolve and water spills out onto their clothing, except for the one who guessed it right.

This not quite boy but not quite man goes by many names: Eustace, in his youth. The Duke of Newcastle upon Tyne up until the war with the colonies started around 1775. Elzy Lay, briefly, in his rebellious years. These days he is simply known as Stacey Newcastle. But one still calls him something else entirely.

“Nuisance!” Crowley greets. His happy expression is met with a blank stare and soulless eyes. Stacey’s attention turns back to his work. The demon plops himself onto the desk. “I’m in town for a few days. Supposed to tempt some politician who’s been acting a little too saintly for the boys downstairs. Don’t understand the point, really. These blokes find their way back to corruption without the devil’s voice in their heads—how about lunch?”

“I’m busy,” he answers boredly.

The demon reaches for a manila folder and flips through it before Stacey promptly yanks it from his grasp. “What is it you actually do here? Looks like a lot of rinse and repeat to me.” Stacey does not answer. A phone rings in the distance. Somebody coughs. Crowley swings his feet in the air as he takes a good look around at the zombies all poisoned by capitalism, just moving through the motions without thought. His attention turns back to the boy, who behaves similarly. “This place is Hell, you know.”

“I know.”

Guilt briefly consumes him but he shakes it away as they both stand. Stacey takes a paper and starts toward the fax machine. Crowley follows him as if he were the boy’s shadow. “I'll go… tempt that… erm, priest or whoever real quick, then we can meet up for an early dinner. How about it?”

“I said I’m busy,” he replies irritably. He pauses, seeming to regret his harshness. “Why are you even here?”

“I told you,” says the demon. Stacey inserts a paper into the machine and dials a number; the machine begins scanning. “To tempt that… erm, did I say politician or priest? I forget...”

“You said both.” The fax machine finishes and he goes back to his desk. Crowley follows. “You don’t need to check up on me anymore. I’m fine.”

Crowley removes his eyewear and looks at him with his true eyes, then gestures at the dullness around them. “Are you?”

Stacey turns away without answering and continues with his work. Humans are not meant to last forever; his soul, at this point, must be screaming to get out.

And Crowley finds himself back on the streets of Manhattan soon after—alone, watching humanity pass him without a second thought. When did they become so stiff, so robotic?

“Oh, I didn’t know you were going to be here.” He turns to see Aziraphale, a welcome light among sudden gloominess. “We could have carpooled.”

“Why are you here?” questions the demon.

“Oh, just performing a few miracles here and there,” he says, unconvincingly. He gestures to Stacey’s office building. “I thought I’d treat Eustace to lunch.”

“He’s busy.”