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stickyy · 4 years

Note

I loved what you wrote about student! college! aizawa,if it's not too much trouble,I would like to read a second part but it contains a sub!aizawa,dom!reader,mommy kink and pegging please. I have to take advantage of the fact that you are the first blog with dark content that I see that accepts pegging,an opportunity that I will not miss,but if it gets complicated for you oh you don't like it,you can reject my request.

DISCLAIMER: always ask for consent first!

warnings: DUBCON, sub!aizawa, edging, verbal abuse, bondage, pegging, gn!reader but light mommy kink is used in reference to, praise kink if you squint?, slightly unrealistic depictions of pegging, reader is fed up but that doesnt excuse their actions :P

word count: 3489

notes: sorry for the delay, i hope u like anon! :D there should always be more pegging fic out there

part 1 here

EXAM SEASON

Finals season is quickly approaching, sending the entire campus into a frenzy, students scrambling like displaced ants trying to finish last minute assignments, novel-esque essays, merciful extra credit projects. The workload takes its toll on everyone, even the star students. You found Aizawa in even worse moods more frequently; a schedule consisting of all nighters spent studying old material followed by early classes and a job on the side, he was absolutely exhausted. You sometimes sneak a peek over at him during class to see his head bobbing slightly, bloodshot eyes struggling to stay open as he fights sleep. A small part of you feels bad for him; he’s a diligent student, and you were sympathetic to his exhaustion.

You still hate the asshole, though.

You found yourself snagged in a twisted sort of arrangement with Aizawa after midterms. There was always a half-assed attempt at tutoring you before giving up and cramming his cock down your throat or deep inside your cunt, leaving you sore and dripping with his cum, all the while spewing insults targeted at your intelligence (or lack thereof). In exchange, he’d complete your assignments and allow you to copy his answers on exam days. Ignoring the situation is where you make peace with yourself; you feel used, but you also have no other option if you want to pass this class.

What you hate the most is the way you roll over and take it. You’re more than just a hole to fuck, you know that, but you’re helpless against his searing abuse and venomous scowls. Even when you try to be nice, it only makes him crueler, your soft pleas and offers of peace an invitation to tear you down and make you cry. You want to fight, to claw and tear into him out of spite. You don’t want to feel so weak anymore.

So, you decide to do something about it.

It’s late, campus illuminated by street lamps and headlights of cars passing by as you make your way into the dorms. After your first encounter, Aizawa began inviting you back to his room instead of the library, deciding to “study” in his personal space as opposed to possibly getting caught in the library with his cock down your throat. You didn’t complain, but it’s especially convenient today, with what you have planned. Knocking on the door softly, you worry your bottom lip between your teeth, anxious for what’s to come.

“Open,” he calls out from inside, prompting you to enter. You pass through the messy common room he shares with his roommate and enter his bedroom, opening the door quietly. Aizawa’s room is tidy compared to the outside, bed made, tousled only where he sits with his laptop, typing.

“You’re late,” he squints at you from behind the screen, shutting the device. “Not surprising.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, placing your book bag on the floor and taking out the very heavy law textbook (that you hadn’t bothered to open since midterms). You take your seat next to him and open to the most recent chapter you read over. He’s silent, only speaking to answer your questions as you focus on the text. You can tell he’s sleepy, his responses slurred and delayed, and you glance over to see him dozing off. Late study sessions and Aizawa’s recent exhaustion meant more often than not that he fell asleep before tormenting you. The first time was startling, but you learned that it was a regular occurrence.

You prefer Aizawa when he’s drowsy. His usually hard features were softened, quiet snores rumbling from his chest. His dark hair messily framing his face as he leans back against the headboard of his bed, arms folded over his chest. He’s good-looking, no doubt. If his personality matched, you could see yourself falling for him.

His eyes open, shooting you a questioning look, and you duck your head back into your textbook, embarrassed at being caught staring.

You keep quiet for another 20 or so minutes, waiting until he’s truthfully asleep and not just resting. You have to be careful not to wake him, as you aren’t keen on being reprimanded for what you're about to do.

Once you’ve deemed it safe, you stealthily open your bag and retrieve the small plastic bag stored inside. With the help of online shopping, you bought some handcuffs, lube, a dildo, and a harness. You aren’t all into pegging, but this was less about the sex and more about proving yourself, forcing him to respect you, in some perverse way. You retrieve the cuffs, gripping them carefully as to not make any sounds. This is the most crucial part; as long as you could get him restrained, you’d could dish out any revenge you desire. You slip off of the bed and tip-toe, almost comically, around the other side of the bed. You test the waters, snapping your fingers near Aizawa. He doesn’t stir, chest rising and falling with his deep breathing.

You steel yourself with a deep breath; this was your chance. You make quick work with the handcuffs, gently yet hastily clicking the metal around one wrist and looping the cuffs through the headboard before securing his other wrist. A grin spreads across your face; you’re thankful he’s such a deep sleeper.

Now that you had him where you wanted him, you were paralyzed by the sheer amount of possibilities. You climb over him apprehensively, hovering over the unconscious man, who only shifts minutely. The peaceful look on his face puts a small pit in your stomach; this was wrong… right? Technically, this was assault. You frown, a small chill running down your spine. Is this what you had become? It was almost enough to convince you to stop, but you force yourself to remember the first time Aizawa had his way with you, the way you choked and gagged and had to hide your face until you could find a bathroom to wipe off the dried cum that adhered to your skin.

This was his fault; he made you like this.

“Fuck it,” you say aloud, bracing yourself before grabbing a handful of his hair and yanking, hard. He awakes with a surprised gasp, wrenching his head away from the assault.

“The fuck?” He bites, eyes drowsily scouring the situation. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Just waking you up,” you smile, releasing your grip. “It’s kind of boring watching you sleep. I thought we were supposed to be studying.”

Aizawa gives you an agitated look, disoriented as he tries to move, only to find his range of motion limited. “You fucking handcuffed me?”

“Yeah, I can’t believe you didn’t wake up,” you chuckle, sliding your hands under his shirt and running your hands over his taut stomach. He keeps his eyes on you with an expectant expression, waiting for an explanation.

“You know, I like you so much more when you're asleep,” you continue, idly tracing patterns on the skin of his abdomen. “No insults, no curses, no glaring. You’re pretty handsome when you’re not being a total douchebag.”

“Let me go,” he ignores you, yanking the handcuffs. “This isn’t funny.”

“I think it’s pretty funny, actually. You’ve spent all semester treating me like shit, and for what? All I’ve done is be nice to you, even after you call me names and abuse me. It hurts my feelings, you know? It’s not like I’m trying to fail this class, I just needed a little extra help, and you take advantage of that every week. So I do think this is pretty fucking hilarious. Maybe you’ll see just how great I feel when you bully me.”

If looks could kill, your heart would have stopped right then and there. Rage burns behind his glare when he meets your eyes, still struggling to break the cuffs. You’d never seen him like this; at his worst, he seems moderately annoyed in your day to day. Despite being an insufferable asshole, he always manages to keep a cool air about him. Never giving anyone much of a reaction, he’s only nasty when he desires. Watching his face take a red tint and his eyes narrow in frustration send waves of satisfaction rippling through your chest.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” he grits out, “If you let me go now, I’ll forget all about this. I promise that you don’t want what’s coming for you once I get out of these cuffs.”

He did have a point; you had no idea what you were doing. That wasn’t going to stop you, though.

“Aw, it’s not so fun now, isn’t it?” You coo at him in a demeaning tone, pouting dramatically. Your wandering hands slid to his crotch, where you could feel his length stirring curiously. You bark out a laugh.

Pulling down his sweats and boxers, your mouth waters at his hardening length. Normally, your stomach would drop at the sight in anticipation for physical abuse you were about to receive. But this? This was different; knowing that you’re the one in control is absolutely captivating. You take his cock in your hands, slowly working your hand up and down. He stays silent in defiance, steady in his glare in an attempt to intimidate you. It would work, usually, but with his hands bound there was nothing he could do to you. He’s betrayed by a pleased noise that slips from his throat.

“Don’t tell me you like this? You want to be taken advantage of, is that it?” you taunt, basking in his agitation as you speed your hand up, thumbing the pre gathering on the slit.

“Watch it,” is his only response, voice dangerously low. He keeps quiet, not willing to surrender to the reactions you’re trying to draw from him. It’s a challenge, if anything, and you weren’t going to back down..

He’s fully erect in no time- you’ve spent enough time as his cocksleeve to know exactly what he likes and responds to. His eyes fall shut as you squeeze tighter, hips canting up into your hand, chasing his own release. You keep it up until he gets a little louder, close to release, and you pull your hand away, watching his dick twitch helplessly.

“Fuck- why’d you stop?” he asks groggily, opening his eyes.

“You didn’t think that I was just going to let you cum that easily, did you? I thought you were supposed to be the smart one,” you shuffle off of the bed, smiling over your shoulder as you hook your thumbs in the band of your leggings. You make a show of sliding the material down over your ass, purposefully leaning over and arching your back. You hear a pleased growl from the bed, causing you to giggle as you pull your underwear down as well.

“You could still let me go,” he offers, giving you a once over as you climb back over him, “I could forget about this if you let me fuck you.”

“Nice try, but I’ll be the one doing the fucking tonight,” you grab your bag from the floor, retrieving the lube but leaving the dildo and harness obscured in the bag. You squeeze a generous amount onto your fingers, causing Aizawa to give you a puzzled look.

“You don’t need lube, you’re always so wet for me,” it’s more of a question than an observation, since your previous trysts never included anything but his spit and your own juices. You just give him a smile before nudging his thighs open with your own, trailing your hand slowly beneath his balls, settling in between his ass and your lubed fingers circle the muscle there. The look on his face is priceless, absolutely shocked at the prospect of you inside of him. He thrashes in protest but you’re steadfast, pinning his hips down with your other hand.

“You can’t be serious,” his voice is alarmed, almost erring on the side of anxious, “you’re dumber than I thought if you think you’re just going to get away with any of this shit.”

“And what are you gonna do about it?” you sing-song, using your dry hand to tug playfully on the cuffs, “You’re a little tied up at the moment.”

“I’m going to beat your cunt up when I get out of these,” it’s a threat, and you ignore the way your stomach flutters at the words, eyes trained on his as you push two fingers inside.

He grunts, his face scrunching up, almost cutely, at the burn of the stretch. You expected him to be tight, but given how tense he is, it’s difficult to push all the way inside. You take it slow, savoring the pained expression on his face; it’s a stark contrast to his cocky demeanor when you’re being subjugated to his abuse. His chest is heaving, a lovely red flush spreading across his skin, eyebrows knit tight, lips bitten red- you’re obsessed. You move your fingers in and out slowly, scissoring just gently enough not to seriously hurt him, but enough to watch him writhe. His dick twitches despite (or maybe due to?) the pain, still red and dripping.

“This is priceless,” you laugh, “if you wanted to get fucked so badly, all you had to do was ask, you know? Mommy would’ve taken care of it for you.”

“Mommy?” he scoffs, rolling his eyes, “you’re insane.”

Any further insult is cut off with a sharp gasp, eyes shooting open in shock, and you know you’ve found it.

You stroke his prostate with a heavy hand, grinding your fingers into the spongy spot inside of him as he struggles to breathe, back arching deliciously. You can’t help but smirk; you kind of get it now. If this is how tormenting you makes Aizawa feel, then you understand why he was so cruel.

“Fuck,” he chokes on a whine that sends heat down your spine, . Your wrist is beginning to strain, but you can’t bring yourself to care. It’s cute; he’s writhing, his hips seeking the stimulation he was previously avoiding as he moans openly, loudly. His cock is an angry purple, pre pooling on his stomach from where it’s leaking. He looks like he’s close, eyes beginning to roll back when you pull your fingers out, laughing as you ruin his orgasm for the second time.

“Please,” he’s breathless, a betrayed look on his face as his hips rock on nothing, desperate to cum.

“Begging already? We haven’t even gotten started yet!”

You reach over into the plastic bag, pulling out the dildo and harness. You can clearly see the fear on his face this time as he moves to sit up, the fog of pleasure clearing quickly.

“Wait,” panic sets in his voice yet again. If you were him, you would be scared too; the toy is thicker than the two fingers you used, something you chose purposefully. You stand and slip on the harness, ignoring his attempts to reason with you.

“What’s wrong? I thought I didn’t know what I was doing?” you ask innocently, forcing your hips between his legs and drizzling some lube on the toy, warming it up with your palm.

“That’s the fucking problem, you idiot, you don’t,” he seethes, pulling on the restraints again, “It won’t fit, and you’re not sending me to the hospital.”

“Exactly, I won’t send you to the hospital. Mommy’s gonna take good care of you,” you coo, settling between his legs.

“Just let me go,” it’s the first genuine plea you’ve heard from him, the sincerity pulling your attention to his eyes where you see a look you can’t quite place. He looks… afraid? Remorseful? It’s enough to give you pause, equal parts consideration and schadenfreude. You settle for leaning forward and placing an uncharacteristically saccharine kiss on his forehead, your humanity getting the best of you.

“All you have to do is relax, okay?” you whisper, resting the tip of the toy against his entrance. He shuts his eyes in anticipation, resigned to his fate, and you push in gently, watching his hole swallow the silicone. The way Aizawa contorts, back bowed to scoot away from the pressure of the toy is salacious, drawing a moan from deep within your chest. He can’t get far due to the restraints, and he lets out a soft sob at the stretch of the toy, face scrunched tight. You push slowly until you bottom out, your hips pressed firmly against his, grinding in small circles to alleviate your own ache. He exhales shakily, unaware that he was holding his breath.

“See, it’s not so bad right?” you soothe, rubbing your thumb against his hip soothingly. “You should be grateful; I’m so much nicer than you are.”

“Fuck you,” it comes out weaker than intended, his voice strained as he tries to adjust to the girth of the toy.

You pull out slowly, experimentally, watching his stomach clench from the sensation of silicone caressing his insides. His dick gives an interested twitch, despite his demeanor, and that’s the invitation you need to start moving. It’s a little awkward at first, but your enthusiasm combined with the size of the toy more than makes up for your inexperience. He’s breathless, still uncomfortable, but you can see his body slowly relax as he tries to make sense of the sensations coursing through his body.

“You like this, don’t you?” you dig, eyes transfixed on his face, “Is that why you're so mean to me? You strut around like an asshole, just to hide the fact that you’re just a little bitch?”

You focus on angling your hips, searching for his prostate again, and when you find it, you commit to fucking him. He’s loud, stray tears sliding down his face as his body struggles to comprehend both the pain of the stretch and pleasure of the abuse.

“Fuck, you’re cute like this,” you sigh, “you’re meant for this, aren’t you? Meant to get your ass bred by your Mommy? You’d be so much more tolerable if you were sweet like this all of the time.”

His dick jerks violently but he shakes his head with a weak ‘no’, too lost in the sensation to retort any further. You’re soaked by now, the pressure of the toy on your end combined with the power trip pushing you to the edge. It takes all of your self-control, but you suddenly stop, unwilling to let yourself finish so quickly; there’s still unfinished business here.

“Tell me I’m pretty,” it comes out before you can even really think about it, but the words hang heavily in the air.

“Huh?”

“You’re never nice to me, so if you want me to even consider letting you cum, you better start kissing up.”

He hesitates, but when you shift slightly and the blunt head of the toy rubs against his prostate, he changes his tune very quickly.

“Fuck- you’re cute, ‘s the reason why I’m mean to you. So cute when you’re about to cry-” you give him a particularly hard slap on his ass and he winces, muttering a quick apology.

“You’re pretty even when I’m not fucking you, too,” is all you get, but it’s the first genuine compliment you’ve gotten out of the asshole since you’ve met him, and your heart soars. He’s awful and mean and evil but the simple statement is enough for you.

“I’ll let you cum if you beg for it,” you grunt, rutting your hips enthusiastically. You’re close, but you refuse to finish first. He’s needy, thanks to being edged twice, and he’s unable to resist your promise.

“Please, fuck, please let me cum,” he whimpers, voice wet and eyes watery.

“Please what?”

“Mommy! Fuck, please mommy, just let me cum, it hurts, fuck, please,” he babbles, and it’s enough for you. You wrap your hand around his cock and stroke it firmly, hips speeding up as you chase your own release. It’s quick- he finishes almost embarrassingly fast, and the whorish wail that rips from his throat sends you right over the edge, your vision blurring at the corners as you stay trained on his face, obscene and submissive.

It’s quiet after you stop, both of you catching your breath. You pull out slowly, watching the way his hole flutters and you giggle, your body and ego fully satiated. You look back to his face; he looks more fucked out than you’ve ever seen him, almost like he’s about to fall back asleep.

“Can we call it a truce?” You break the silence, grinning as he cracks open an eye to give you a scalding look.

“Fuck. You.”

454 notes · View notes

andypantsx3 · 4 years

Text

say the word and you know i’ll follow

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

status: complete

length: 3,262 words

summary: While moving in with Shouto, you get caught up reliving the scene of his confession. Quite literally.

(A smutty oneshot sequel to my fic if i could keep cool.)

tags: romance, reader-insert, fluff, smut

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, cunnilingus, light bondage

notes: Also cross-posted on my AO3! The manga really has me all in my Todo feels rn but I don't wanna write a whole other fic before I finish the Hawks one, so please have this fluffy smutty one shot as a compromise. It likely won’t make sense unless you’ve read if i could keep cool first, so please check it out if you have the time!

It was sweltering when you stepped outside to make your way to Shouto’s apartment.

A thin film of sweat immediately began to build wherever your skin pressed against the box you carried, and the sun beat down furiously on the crown of your head. You instantly started to second guess your choice to take the train, wondering how dumb of a move it had been to decline an alternative means of transit. It was going to be like being packed into a sardine can and roasted over a hot stove.

Shouto had offered to send an agency car, but there were only so many more times you were going to make the trip from your crumbling student apartment to his place, and you had wanted to make the most of it. You didn’t even really need to bring boxes over just yet--as Shouto had hired a moving company to take care of everything next week--but you didn’t want to lose anything that was inside this one. This one held all your most treasured items--keepsakes from your friends, a pressed white tulip, and all the gifts Shouto had ever given you (minus, of course, the vegetables).

Steeling yourself for an uncomfortable twenty minutes, you set off towards the station, weaving through the tired crowds of people who looked just as sun-weary as you. Thankfully, with a hat over your face and a box you could shift to obscure your features, very few people seemed to recognize you as you did so.

A lot of the media attention surrounding your mishap a year ago had died down, and you had been good about keeping your relationship mostly private, so you weren’t exactly a household name to most people. But there were enough twitter-savvy teens and meme-literate college students that you were sometimes recognized as you went about your daily life.

This time, you were only eyed curiously by one pair of teenage girls as they bundled into the train car across from you, but they didn’t say anything to you, didn’t ask you to reenact the most embarrassing five seconds of your entire life into their phones, as many often did. The box hid you from the rest of the train car, and no one else seemed to take interest in your presence.

After exiting the train at downtown, you made it to Shouto’s building in record time, all but rocket-fueled by your desire to get out of the hot sun. The security team in the lobby of his building gave you friendly nods as you passed, one of them graciously pressing the button for the elevator so you didn’t have to fumble around your box.

You thanked her, making your way into the elevator and elbowing the button for Shouto’s floor. The elevator was even cooler than the lobby, and you shivered in delight as the frigid chill of air conditioning washed over you. God, this building was so fucking nice compared to yours. You were going to be spoiled as fuck once you lived here.

You made it to Shouto’s floor without incident, though digging in your bag for your keys was impossible at the moment, so you knocked on his door as firmly as you could manage with the box still balanced in your arms.

There were a few seconds of silence. Then, the door swung open and Shouto stood there, grinning at you.

His hair still looked a little damp from a recent shower, and he was wearing a dark button up over a soft tee shirt and a pair of dark jeans. He looked unbearably good, as boyishly handsome as ever, and your heart gave an embarrassing little stutter, like it always did whenever you saw him. You suspected it was always going to be like that, no matter how long the two of you had been dating.

Shouto’s eyebrows went up as he considered the box in your arms. That heterochromatic gaze picked over you curiously, expression going carefully blank, like it typically did when he was up to some mischief. And then, after a long moment, he spoke.

“You’re not wearing the scarf,” he said, sounding upset.

You stared up at him, feeling your brow wrinkle. The scarf? It was fucking summer, and the scarf was neatly tucked away in the box you were holding. It was literally boiling hot just outside the well-air conditioned hallways of his building. Why on earth did he think you would be wearing--

You inhaled a little sharply when the answer hit you.

The scarf.

The scarf was the first thing he had mentioned the day he had finally confessed to you. Well, after you had confessed first, really, on national television earlier that week, that you were thirsty as hell for him and were also really bad at picking up subtle clues. Or overt clues. Or any clues, honestly.

But now you were standing in his hallway with a box again, and he was clearly remembering what had happened the last time you had done so.

You wracked your brain for what you had said to him in reply that day, trying to hone in on the words past the sudden swell of embarrassment.

“Uh, it’s in here,” you finally replied, gesturing to the box.

That grey and blue gaze dropped to the parcel in your arms, then flickered up to your face. You pushed the box at him, the way you had the day he’d confessed, feeling just as squirmish as you had then.

What else had you said to him? Something very watery and over dramatic, likely. Something like...

“It’s all, um, there--if you wanted to check,” you said. “Except for the vegetables obviously. But I can pay you back, if you give me a couple months.”

Shouto was clearly suppressing a smirk as he feigned curiosity. “Pay me….what?”

You suppressed your own absurd laugh, wondering how far down mortifying memory lane he wanted to go.

“I also wrote down a recommendation for a new cleaning lady, if you want,” you said, patting the top of the box. “It’s in there. Her name’s Mika, she’s super nice. And I can message you or your manager when I have the money. Just let me know which one you’d prefer. Or I can have Mika drop it off.”

Shouto gripped the box, then, long, elegant fingers pulling back the flaps for him to peer inside. He looked absolutely delighted to find the scarf actually within. In one fluid movement, he pulled the scarf out, depositing the box behind him, and turned back to grab your sleeve, pulling you quickly into the apartment with him.

“Okay, what are you doing with the scarf this time?” you laughed, breaking character.

One white eyebrow went up as Shouto gripped your wrist firmly, eyeing you closely as he pulled off your baseball cap.

“Mm,” he hummed absently in his deep tone. “Something I should have done the first time.” He caught your other wrist, pressing it into the sinfully soft fabric of your favorite accessory.

You looked at him, bewildered, feeling your mouth twist into a slight frown. You rather liked the way things had gone the first time around, considering that you had ended up with a boyfriend at the end of it all. What was his bone to pick with the first time around?

“Uh, if I’m recalling correctly, the first time went great,” you said to him. “Like, really really great. Christening your countertops several different times great.”

There was a flash of white teeth as Shouto grinned.

“Ah, but I missed an opportunity,” he said. A soft sensation slid over your other wrist, and you looked down in confusion.

Then it hit you what he was up to, and your face instantly went up in flames.

A firm tug had your wrists knotted together, and Shouto smirked down at you, tugging you closer by the silky fabric of your scarf. Your stomach swooped at the intent look in his eye.

“I had been upset you weren’t wearing the scarf,” he said. “But there was an easy way to fix that.”

You swallowed heavily, your tongue feeling strangely thick. Your brain was suddenly, but predictably, very very empty.

“Y-yeah. But technically you, um. You did fix it,” you babbled helplessly, limbs growing shivery with static as Shouto pressed closer. He was so warm, and he was so stupidly handsome.

“I’ve, uh, worn it a lot since,” you managed.

Shouto considered you quietly, a familiar, wry little smile pressing at the corner of his mouth.

Before you’d started dating, you’d been confused as hell by that expression, suspecting it meant he was bewildered by your very existence but was too polite to say so. After just over a year together, however, you had learned that was just what his face did when he thought you were being unreasonably appealing. Which, mystifyingly, was mostly when the working part of your brain disconnected from your mouth.

You scrounged around for other coherent words, thoughts thick and sluggish, like you were thinking through pudding.

Shouto, however, was merciful, putting an end to your suffering by leaning down and taking your mouth with his.

All the coherent thought you’d managed to dredge up melted away like frost under the morning sun. You pressed yourself closer to him, leaning up to give him better access to your mouth. Shouto kissed you as stupid as he always did before a hot hand came up to cup your face, thumb sliding over your cheek affectionately.

“It seems I’ve got you in the scarf as I had wanted,” Shouto said quietly, once he let you up for air. “But now I find that the scarf is all I want you in.”

You opened your mouth to respond, though what you might have said was as much a mystery to you as anyone. But all that managed to come out was a choked, breathy little noise.

Shouto laughed.

Then there were large hands on your waist, and the next thing you knew, you were staring down at the wood paneling of Shouto’s floor as it moved underneath you. Shouto adjusted you over his shoulder briefly, and then he was charting a brisk course to his bedroom, depositing you like an errant pillow back onto his sheets.

Your cheeks burned as he crawled over you, gaze hot and searching.

“Are you alright, love?” he asked.

You nodded vehemently, eyes pulled to the little flat sliver of his abs where his shirt had ridden up.

“Good, yeah, I’m so good,” you managed to garble out. You were going to be so embarrassed about this later, but as usual when it came to him, you really couldn’t help it. If you’d learned anything in the year you’d been together, it was that you would always have the world’s fattest crush on Shouto Todoroki.

Strong fingers came up to grasp your chin, tipping your face up for another searing kiss. You managed to loop your bound arms over the back of Shouto’s neck, tangling your fingers in his soft hair and pulling him down to you more firmly.

Shouto flattened himself against you, so that you could feel every strong plane of his body, every hard muscle. You shuddered, and you could feel Shouto smirk against your mouth.

“Like that, do you?” he asked, hands pulling at your shirt. You wiggled so that he could pull it out from under you, sliding it up to rest just below the scarf. In the next second he’d also gotten you out of your pants, so that you were mostly bare to him in the cool apartment air.

Shouto looked you over for a moment, looking like he still couldn’t believe you existed. “Having you over the countertops was something that I wouldn’t change. Something that I won’t change, once you move in.”

Your face went hot and you squirmed underneath him.

“However,” he said softly, “I believe I would have liked to have been more deliberate with you. Taken my time with you,” he paused. “Perhaps...I might have made you come once for every photo of me on your twitter.”

The tips of your ears went hot. Jesus Christ, he couldn’t be serious.

You had deleted that twitter over a year ago, and though he’d apparently been allowed access to the contents by his manager (rude) there was absolutely no way he could remember how many pictures of him you’d retweeted. You’d been the one doing the retweeting, and even you didn’t remember, though you thought the number was probably embarrassingly high.

“There was like, one,” you squeaked out.

Shouto’s smile went dark and he leaned over you, his perfect, infuriating mouth so close he might have kissed you again.

“Thirteen,” he said, mouth brushing yours as he spoke. “There were thirteen photos of me on your twitter. All while you tried so hard to act like you didn’t want me, that you wanted to be just friends.”

“Hey, you said you wanted to be my friend,” you protested. You jerked when his hand slid up your side to cup a breast, thumb slipping under the band of your bra.

“You weren’t accepting my gifts,” he said, fingers grazing your nipple. You bit down on an embarrassing noise, letting out a sharp breath. “How else was I to make you take them?”

You opened your mouth to respond but Shouto made another pass over your nipple, and a moan escaped you instead.

“That’s right, love,” he said encouragingly. “Now I’m going to make you give me something in return. Thirteen somethings, in fact.”

He peeled down the cup of your bra, fastening his hot mouth over your breast. You whined, twitching when he flattened his tongue, dragging it slowly over the point of your nipple. A strong arm came up to press your hands down over your head.

“Shouto, thirteen is insane,” you panted.

He paid you no mind, instead swirling his tongue in a way that made your vision blur.

A tugging at your wrists made you look up, in time to see Shouto one-handedly looping the long end of the scarf through the slats on his headboard and pulling tight. Your whole body clenched up at the implication.

The slide of fabric over your breasts told you that Shouto had also managed to get your bra up, and hot mouth closed over your other nipple, long fingers carefully plucking at the other. “We have all weekend, love. Thirteen is ambitious but quite possible.”

You made a weak noise of acknowledgement, hips shifting forward against his stomach.

Shouto laughed, hot breath ghosting over your breast, and then he was crawling down your torso, hands grasping your underwear. He pulled it down slowly, torturously, until he managed to get it off you, then pulled your knee over his shoulder.

You whimpered, feeling like you might actually pass out from how hot he looked, one thigh thrown carelessly over his shoulder, gaze intent, staring down at you like a starving man looking at a hot meal.

You squirmed, trying to pull your arms down to get your hands on him, but the scarf held fast, pulling more firmly over your wrists.

“Shouto, please,” you said, though whether you were begging for him to touch you or to let you go, even you didn’t know.

Shouto seemed to take it as permission. Those two-toned eyes passed over you hotly, and then he was leaning down, biting down gently on the inside of your thigh. You jerked violently, but he held you in place, mouth trailing slowly, slowly down to where you wanted him.

You thought you might actually black out before he got where he was going.

“I can’t believe I ever told you you were unwelcome in my apartment,” he murmured, sucking a slow bruise into the skin at the crease of your thigh. “Once you move in, I’m never going to let you leave it.”

“Oh my god,” you said.

Shouto’s tongue flicked out, catching the edge of your sex, and you tried not to choke on air.

Then, finally, he moved, fastening his mouth over you, exactly where you wanted him. All reason completely left you.

After that, everything was an unbearable flurry of feeling--a soft tongue swirling over you, the tickle of his bangs on your stomach, the press of broad shoulders between your knees. There was the rasp of his sheets between your shoulder blades, the slow, deliberate press of two fingers inside of you, a firm grip on your thigh, fingers digging in tightly.

You could feel every point of connection with him, every minute movement of his mouth over you, and the sensation built up into something so horribly, terribly good. You were unable to do anything but writhe and pant underneath him, babbling something that sounded like it might be an approximation of his name.

Shouto hummed and sucked softly, those long fingers curling inside you. He finally hit a spot that made you see stars, and you practically lifted off the bed, back bowing. Shouto licked you through it, tongue curling expertly around your clit while you sobbed out his name, only slowing when your body went slack, collapsing back into his sheets.

When you could see straight once more, you realized he was staring up at you, that wry smile curling the corner of his mouth again.

You fought down a blush, feeling an embarrassed grin pull at the corner of your own mouth.

“You’re unreal,” you said. “I can’t believe I’m going to get to have you all the time.”

Shouto pressed a short kiss to the skin of your hip. “You already have me all the time.”

You flapped a hand in its bindings. “You know what I mean. I can’t believe we’re going to live together.”

His fingers slid gently over the back of your thigh. “I’d have had you in here sooner, if you hadn’t insisted on graduating first.”

You laughed. He was always so very straightforward about whatever he wanted.

He had been making very unsubtle noises about living together only a few months into your relationship, but you’d insisted that you wait at least a year. He’d grown up with more conservative mores, having been raised a rich boy, and taking things quickly once he knew he was serious about you seemed to be the style of things. But you, despite your frankly unreasonable thirst for your own boyfriend, knew the value of taking things just a little bit slower.

So you’d waited a year, just to be prudent, though you’d known all along how things would end up.

And now he finally had his way.

“I’m all yours now,” you promised, laughing. “Soon you’ll be sick of me hogging the bed, and leaving books everywhere, and getting so blackout at the farmer’s market that we don’t have room for all the vegetables.”

“Ah, you’re using me for vegetable access,” he accused, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the smile he was attempting to smother into your thigh.

“A girl’s gotta have her priorities,” you grinned.

Something lit up in Shouto’s gaze again, and he shifted up against your thigh to lean over you more fully. His fingers gripped the back of your knee tightly.

“I'll make you pay for that,” he promised darkly. “Twelve more times.”

You shivered as he took your mouth again, fingers sliding back between your thighs with obvious intent.

And then you really did. You paid for it.

Twelve more times.

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #shouto todoroki #bnha fanfic #bnha #smut #fluff #bnha x reader

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washymylifeaway · 4 years

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Haikyuu fanfic recs for ones I liked hehe

EDIT: I made a pt 2

Anyway, as the title suggests, I am recommending some fanfics for popular(ish) ships that I personally really enjoyed! I’m only doing one or two fics per ship (which in hindsight is KILLING me so I’m just putting the first fics I find and am like I really liked that one LOL) because I wanted to do a shorter fic rec list (tho watch this become super long LOL). I also may or may not be procrastinating finishing a couple other long posts, so there’s that hehe. For the (kinda but not really) public consensus for best fics per ship (by kudo count) check out some of my other posts. Also I’m putting some ships I don’t actually read much of (OOPS LOL) so if you think that there’s a fic that fits my type (if I even have a consistent type) better, pls tell me LOL. Otherwise, pls continue heh :)

As always, pls check WARNINGS, TAGS, and SUMMARIES for fics before reading to make sure you’re taking care of yourselves (since mental health is key!) and stay healthy!

IwaOI:

The Loyalty of a Traitor by DeathBelle (E) 76.9k // ok so does me liking this fic make me basic cause I feel basic LOL. I really love mafia fics, and the way the story line developed was SO good, like IN LOVE with this story. This is a fic where you should read WARNINGS, TAGS, and SUMMARY before diving in, but if the length scares you, don’t be. It’s so easy to fall in and get lost in the writing!

the courtship ritual of the hercules beetle by kittebasu (chanyeol) (T) 66.3k // again, basic? Probably LOL but it’s good so I have no shame ;) Again, pls don’t let the word count scare you (cause it scared me LOL), you get really into it after like 2 paragraphs, so just make sure you have enough time to finish hehe.

KuroKen:

Thicker Than Blood by kylar (M) 91.4k // are you surprised that there is another mafia one? You really shouldn’t be LOL. Anyway, I’ll just be here pushing my mafia fanfic agenda while you read this monster of a fic hehe :) Definitely read WARNINGS, TAGS, and SUMMARY because there is some very sensitive topics involved! I also adore the oibokuroo friendship headcannon, so more reasons to read, right?

Liked, Commented and Subscribed by Royal Society of Pandas (Abarcelos) (T) 45.7k // this fic is SO funny omg. I read it and I had to stop so many times just to laugh because I could not stop sometimes LOL. However, there IS angst towards the end, it gets resolved, but it’s still there... But honestly, it just adds such depth and flavor to the fic, so pls read it!

BokuAka:

bang! now we're even by Authoress (M) 11.9k // so I’ll be honest, I don’t read a lot of BokuAka (...oops?) and so I wouldn’t consider myself as the best person to be recommending fics for this ship (in general too LOL).... ANyway, I love myself some good spy AUs (was gonna put that IwaOi spy AU but the LIMIT), and Akaashi in a dress? Like the tags might state, what more do you need? The characters are done beautifully, and the story development is SO good, so I give you all my humble BokuAka rec.

Crisis Converted by valiantarmor (M) 60k // man do I really love fighting in my fics LOL. This was super good and the plot itself kept me really engaged (what a twist omg). It does talk a bit about mental health issues, but it’s done so well, and they really did this AU justice!

DaiSuga:

How to Manage by SuggestiveScribe (E) 39.3k // ok so yea yea we established, I’m basic, BUT can you blame me? This might’ve been one of the first DaiSuga’s I’ve read and I have no regrets. Literally, this fic series is one of my favorites, so OF COURSE I had to add it somewhere :D Honestly, I don’t even think you need to read the first one to understand what’s going on, but I would just cause it has some funny DaiSuga moments too ;) This is explicit for PWP, so proceed with caution~~

Add New Contact by booksong (G) 8.5k // this one! It’s so cute and poor Daichi LOL. He really out here doing the most,,, Anyway, we love tech Suga, and a nice dash of snarky tsukki (LOL is he salt, yes yes he is). It’s very fluff and pine, so if you want to read Daichi having gay panic like 24/7, go right ahead LOL.

SakuAtsu:

Burden of Blame by DeathBelle (E) 91.2k // ummmm, haha what, another mafia AU? Me, predictable? Noooo, never..... Anyway, this one was so freakin’ good like, love it so much! It’s one of my favorite mafia AU fics, and I love the story line progression. Poor Atsumu being dragged into this mess, but it’s okay because THEY are IN LOVE. Honestly, this fic is Atsumu best boy like he is the best boy. BEST BOY.

Notte Stellata by awkwardedgeworth (T) 20.9k // I ignored all of the other fics I LOVE in this ship (like the pain I’m in rn), but I love this fic with my whole heart. Like I have reread this fic multiple multiple times because I love it so much (tho I might’ve skipped the angst a couple of times cause I didn’t want the pain okay?). I keep coming back, and the second fic in this series is SO funny and cute and I love it here. Please read it, it’s so FREAKING good, angst and ALL.

KyouHaba:

Team Mom by All_My_Characters_Are_Dead (T) 2.7k // so as I was going through this tag (because that’s what I do LOL), I remembered this fic and I love it. Like yes Yahaba is the fear factor and yes Kyoutani is the DAD. I really like the team dynamics in this one, and the first years make me laugh pls.

Camellias by kiyala (T) 1.9k // IK you’re all like, you’re missing such great fics, like no I’m not I just made myself hate myself by limiting fics to two per,,, I love this fic and when I starting looking for this ship, it was the first one I thought of hehe. I really love magic and their interactions are so cute and the PLANTS ARE DOING THE MOST. Pls read both in the series, cause domestic KyouHaba is best KyouHaba ngl LOL. I love the plants, and if you read the second one, someone tell the trees to stop bullying Yahaba.

MatsuHana:

This gets annoying fast, Makki by Ink_stained_quills (G) 2.3k // IM IN LOVE WITH THIS FIC PLS I COULD NOT STOP CRYING TEARS OF LAUGHTER. This AU needs more fics PLEASE. It was SO freakin’ funny and the other teams KILLED ME. Like how they all approached the problem differently and how some of them (KUROO) asked for help LOL. Please this is so freaking funny go read it.

boiled frogs by reginagalaxia (E) 91.5k // I told myself I was gonna put my most angsty fics on another post (which I will for my other favorite MatsuHana angst fic which I love), but this fic. Omg I saw it and I was like I have to. Literally I have to. I hate angst, but read it. It, the, plot, omg, I jjfnsfknalkjdnf ljksan. Like I’m not sure you understand. This fic. asjfjfsadnldjb. I never thought I could hate a character SO MUCH,,,, like SO MUCH. READ TAGS, WARNINGS, AND SUMMARIES because some serious stuff really goes down. Bless Iwa-chan.

SunaOsa:

Accidentally in Love by pancake_surprise (T) 19.6k // JOSE CUERVO strikes. I love this fic and all the chaos in it. The way they were supposed to be the responsible couple (of friends LOL),,, sike. This one is only a slight angst and it’s mostly love and fun :) Also technically this is no longer the first fic in the series, but I’m still putting this one cause the other one is SakuAtsu orientated hehe :)

Spring Secrets by DeathBelle (T) 3.8k // Seasons might be one of my favorite (as all things also seem to be) series of all times. I don’t like rerecommending fics I’ve already said to read, which is why I’m not yelling at you to go read a certain other fic (which is my life and blood). Anyway, this fic series is all fluff barely angst (maybe that’s why I like it) but it’s so freakin good pls read it all ahhhhhh.

Komori/Suna (what is their ship name):

I wish to live in a world by hatsuna (T) 24.8k // ok ngl this fic was so sad and relatable? Like I was like wtf why are you making me cry rn even though like I shouldn’t be? My heart? Pain. (Hotel? Trivago.) Technically, this is END GAME but the main pairing is kinda SakuAtsu???? Something of the sort, but also their relationship (Komori and Sakusa) is written so well and idk guys I think you need to read this fic rn.

Ah the two fic limit hurt me, but fear not I am making ship specific rec posts (LOL I’m so dramatic), so if you wanted more of a ship,,,, its a coming hehe. And yes I did say I’m making an angsty fic rec post, but we’ll see if it gets finished before I side-track with posts like these LOL.

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foodieforthoughts · 4 years

Text

Sand and Stars - Chapter Nine

Series Summary: After the water pump being blown up, the insurgents in Baqubah are taking a hold of the food supply to the village. Camp Warhorse is in dire need of reinforcements. It has been eight months of submitting countless requests when the High Command commissions Sergeant Olivia Ross to take her group of men and women and help Captain Syverson and his team to restore a semblance of normalcy. But with the war raging, does it get two hearts closer too?

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC x OMC

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: 18+, implied smut, angst, foul language, mentions of war, military technicalities

A/N: I had been struggling to write this chapter for so long, being at a loss of words, even if I have the entire plot figured out. But a quick chat with @agniavateira finally gave me a boost. So thank you honey. And obviously a huge thank you to my favorite, my girl, @thelastsock for patiently beta-reading it. I am forever grateful to you, sweety.

Also, it is kind of like a filler chapter really, but everyone is at Camp Warhorse and the temperatures are soaring high!

<Chapter Eight

Title: Chapter Nine

Liv could feel her heart race and her pulse echo in her ears. Her hands were beginning to sweat inside the gloves, and she knew for a fact it wasn’t because of the summer heat that had descended upon the arid desert of Iraq. She glanced at Sloan who puffed her cheeks before taking quick steps backwards and running back to where she came from.

Taking a deep ragged breath, Liv slung her gun over her shoulder and removed her helmet, holding it in the crook of her arm as she walked towards the two men. Alex looked completely different than the last time she had spent time with him. He had his sunglasses on, camouflage cap perched on his head and his jaw covered with a clean cut beard. Even with the uncharacteristic facial hair Alex had going on, he walked with the arrogance of the decorated military officer that he was. Next to him, Sy looked rugged and even though he was in his military sanctioned t-shirt and camo pants, there was a distinguishing difference between the two Captains.

“Sergeant Ross.” Alex called out, taking off his sunglasses. He smiled at her staying put in his spot but scrutinized her with a glance from head to toe. Putting his hands behind his back, Alex stood straight, exuding the kind of dominance he always did in public. “Captain Syverson was telling me about how great a help your unit has been around here.”

Liv felt her mouth go dry as she looked at a grinning Sy with his hands placed low on his hips. He was looking at her proudly, puffing out his chest just a little bit. But Liv couldn’t bask in his admiration because the thought of the two men discussing about her made her stomach twist with nervousness.

“Sy is too kind.”

She did not miss the surprise in Alex’s eyes when the words left her mouth. She felt the anxious sweat return, beads of sweat trickling down her back now. Awkwardly adjusting her gun strap over her shoulder, she waited until either of them spoke.

“Sy?” Alex asked, crossing his arms over his chest. His stance showed how he was not in approval of a junior rank calling a senior officer informally. Liv was beginning to remember why she felt smothered around Alex, it was his overly decorous and overbearing nature that had made her realize she could never be with a person like him.

An uncomfortable silence stretched between the three of them. Liv noted how her unit members working on carrying the ammunition from the Humvees were throwing glances their way. It was humiliating for her to be meeting both of her partners out in the open, in front of everyone where she couldn’t hide the uneasiness.

“They call me that.” Sy intervened and Liv couldn’t have been more thankful. His grin had disappeared though, replaced with a tight-lipped gritting of his teeth. She could see the muscle in his jaw clenching and his eyes boring into hers. Without glancing at the man standing next to him, Sy took a step forward. Liv’s heart thumped against her chest as she expected Sy to do something to assert his claim on her but let out a sigh of relief as he only reached inside his pocket and pulled out her chain.

She was immensely relieved when Sy only whispered, “You forgot this.” Before handing her the chain in her palm. She nodded at him while smiling weakly. He seemed to be observing her too, looking at her with slightly narrowed eyes. Clearing his throat, Alex pulled their attention towards him. Liv quickly pocketed the chain, careful to not let Alex see it and looked at the newly arrived captain.

“Can I speak to you in private, Sergeant?” He asked, uncrossing his arms and putting his hands inside his pockets. He waited until she replied, glancing at her and Sy before turning around and walking towards the housing building.

Liv almost did not want to follow him. She wanted to stay there with Sy, maybe take him to the roof and go back to the time when they sat there drinking chai. Balling her hands into fists at the unfavorable circumstances she had been thrown into, Liv only touched Sy on his arm before walking towards the man who was the worst mistake of her life.

Placing her gun on the floor to rest against the wall, Liv started to search for Alex when she felt her body being turned around and slammed against the wall. Air left her lungs at the force and her senses went on high alert, her hands ready to get a hold of the person’s neck when she noticed who it was. Alex had pressed his entire body against hers, every contour of her frame touching his.

“Alex,” his name barely left her lips before she was rendered speechless as his lips came down on hers. Grabbing at her hair and winding his arm around her waist, Alex deepened the kiss with his lips parting and his tongue darting inside her mouth. She was aware of the empty corridor with footsteps sounding only a few feet away, but the familiarity of his body against her, the taste of his lips and the tight grasp of his hand in her hair made her close her eyes. She relaxed in his arms, letting him ravage her mouth. Her eyes snapped open, her hand had slid into his hair but instead of the buzzcut she'd come to love, she felt soft length between her fingers.

Disgusted with herself and her wrongdoing, Liv turned her face to the side. Bringing her hands to his chest, she pushed Alex away, panting to catch her breath. Alex staggered backwards and hurt instantly flashed in his green orbs, making its way to her own heart. She couldn’t meet his eyes for the last time she had tried to break things off, her guilt had caught up to her and she couldn’t do it.

“Liv,” Alex whispered, beginning to take a step forward when two heavy footsteps came running their way. Looking towards the open doorway, Liv spotted two of her men running towards them.

“A team was attacked, they just arrived. Captain Syverson told me to get you both to his office.”

Quickly nodding at her men, Liv picked up her gun from the floor. She adjusted her fatigues, her cheeks heating under Alex’s gaze. She needed to address their situation, but it had to wait. She looked over her shoulder at him and felt remorse creeping its way into her gut again as he stared at her appalled.

***

Sy stood at the entrance of the building with the cup of coffee in his hand. He sipped the steaming liquid as he scanned the compound as several units prepared to leave for their patrols around the village. They had increased the security around the camp since last week’s attack on their men. Luckily, no one was severely injured, but it had been a huge blow for Liv’s confidence.

Sy had watched as she had entered his office fuming with anger. He had anticipated she would be upset since the person at the head of the attacking group of militants was the insider, she'd believed was on their side. He had tried to assure her no one held her accountable for the attack, but he knew her plenty by now. He knew she would berate herself about it and go back into her shell of self-loathing.

And she had done exactly that.

Sy licked his lips, gulping down the bitter shot of caffeine as he spotted Liv with her unit. She was helping her corporal load up the box of ammunition and instructing them. He admired her dedication to her work immensely, but on the other hand he also wanted her to just let herself go once in a while.

His eyes narrowed as he observed Alex making his way towards her. He had decided from the very moment he met the captain, that he did not like him. Sy had read about him; born and brought up in a family of army officers, gone to private school and having arrogant pricks as his relatives, Alex was the kind of army man Sy despised. He had noticed the way Alex tried to ascertain control over Liv or his subordinates, very subtly hinting at things that he wanted to happen his way.

But those weren’t the only things that he disliked about the new Captain. Sy hated the fact that while Liv was maintaining her distance from him, she was spending an awful lot of time with Alex.

It wasn’t happening in an obvious kind of way, but since Sy could hardly ever keep his eyes off of the woman he loved, he would spot the two of them together up and around the compound. When they spoke, he noted how Liv’s body was stiff, but she spoke effortlessly. He would feel the muscles in his arms twitch when Alex would place his hand on her arm, and she would lean into his touch. He had gathered from a few of Alex’s men that Liv and Alex had been friends for a really long time.

Sy felt the bubbling of an emotion, which had no other word than being called jealousy, as he watched the two interact. He gripped his cup tightly as he watched Alex place his hand over her shoulder, a minute too long for Sy’s liking. He detested how Liv did not shrug away from Alex’s touch and every time Sy spotted them together like that, all he wanted to do was throw his arm around Liv and blatantly claim in front of everyone that she was his.

He took in a deep breath when Alex started walking towards him. Widening his stance and crossing his arms over his chest, Sy stood with confidence as the other captain made his way to him. He saw Liv looking at them from her place near the Humvees. They had a long eye contact with straight faces until Liv turned around to get inside the vehicle.

“Good day there Sy?” Alex stood next to him with his hands inside his pockets. Sy regarded him with a half-hearted smile before his eyes fell to the silver chain tangled up with the man's dog tags.

“That chain?” Sy pointed at the glinting medal laying on Alex’s chest. “That’s-”

“Saint Christopher. A gift from my mother to keep me safe.” He answered, his voice gruff from the early morning.

Sy narrowed his eyes, trying to study the make of the medal without being too obvious. He felt a pit in his belly as a realization dawned on him. “Liv has one too.” He meant to say it to himself, but unknowingly murmured the words out loud.

Alex chuckled, swiping his hand through his neatly combed hair. Squaring his shoulders and turning slightly to face Sy, Alex spoke. “I gave it to her. Don’t want anything to be happening to her.”

Sy felt his mouth go dry. He smiled at Alex but his mind was racing with all this new information. He couldn’t understand why when he already knew they were friends, Sy felt himself becoming irate. He couldn’t differentiate if he was angry about them being close or the sinking gut feeling he had that something was going on behind his back.

Sy couldn’t shrug the feeling off. All he could do the whole day was look at his watch and wait for anyone to come announce at his door that Liv was back to the camp.He had to talk to Liv about it, he needed the peace of mind. His thoughts were swirling about Liv and Alex, bordering on overthinking about every little detail about her life she had told him. He couldn’t concentrate on his work and he had stared at the piece of paper in his hand for far too long. Irritated at himself, Sy threw his cap on the table and rubbed his hand over his face.

He looked up when he felt a presence at the door and as if he conjured her, delight filled his chest as spotted Liv. Sy didn't waste any time in covering the short distance between them, pulling at her arm and closing the door in one swift move. Sy held her neck, tilting her face to capture her lips with his. He felt her melt in his arms, bringing her hands to rest on his shoulders while he nudged her lips open with the tip of his tongue. Their tongues danced, interrupted only as she moaned into the kiss, grasping at his t-shirt until the fabric was taut across his shoulders. Gasping for air, Sy parted from the kiss, resting his forehead against hers.

“I’ve missed you.” He shakily professed, pecking the tip of her nose.

“I’ve missed you too, Sy.” She breathed out, smiling at him and rubbing the nape of his neck. “Listen, can you come to the roof tonight? I really need to talk to you.”

Sy felt an unknown dread envelop him. He knew those words never meant anything good. He looked her in the eye, trying to understand what she meant, but seeing nothing but silent pleas. Taking her lips in his one more time and he savoured every moment, before he let go of her.

And then she was gone, leaving his office feeling weirdly empty.

***

Liv chewed on her bottom lip as she looked out towards the vast expanse of the desert. There was a lot more chatter in the compound with the new people arriving. She waited for the lights to turn out, for midnight to roll in and finally meet Sy in their safe haven.

She had taken a week to realize what she felt for the man. Scared to address it, maybe she would have taken even longer if it weren’t for Alex. For when he had kissed her that day, she had finally realised the difference in her feelings. But she had remained quiet, distanced herself a little from Sy, to understand what she really wanted.

Liv felt a pleasant warmth in her chest about how much she loved the stupid captain she had stumbled upon in the desert.

Lost in her thoughts, smiling to herself as she thought about Sy, Liv did not notice the person standing behind her. The warmth of their breath caressed her neck as they leaned in and wound their arms around her body. Letting out a sigh, Liv felt herself leaning against the hardness of his chest, wrapping her arms over his and closing her eyes.

“Sy,” She whispered expecting to be turned around but instead she felt him go stiff. Her eyes flew open as their arms dropped from her waist and she noticed the faint smell of the cologne that she recognized belonged to someone who wasn’t Sy.

Turning around swiftly, Liv felt the blood drain from her face when she came face to face with an astounded Alex. He stared at her with knitted eyebrows, his mouth slightly open and his figure looming over her. She took a step back from him, feeling her heart race and her cheeks heat under his accusing glare.

“Did you just call me, Sy?” He said through gritted teeth. The veins in his neck strained as he took a step forward. “What is going on between you and Syverson?”

“Alex, what are you doing here?” Liv asked meekly, feeling miniscule in front of him.

“Answer me.” He demanded, his eyes blazing even under the faint glow of the moonlight. “Are you fucking him? Is that what you’ve been doing here?”

Liv’s feet touched the low wall as Alex made her cower away from him. Coming to stand extremely close to her, Alex towered over his Sergeant. She could see how his eyes bore into hers, anger flaming in his orbs. She felt herself jump when he caught a hold of her arms, gripping them tightly.

“Alex,” she pleaded, feeling the spasming pain as his infuriated grasp increased in pressure.

“You said you loved me.”

Tears were beginning to brim in her eyes under the pain. She had seen Alex angry before, but this was different. It felt like he was overtaken by a mad man as he clenched her tightly.

“You’re hurting me, Alex.” She couldn’t help but let out a whimper, pursing her lips to stop from crying out.

“You said you loved me.” He repeated again with fervor.

“I never said I loved you.” She spat out, trying to free herself from him. “I never loved you, Alex. I am not fucking Sy, I love him.” She wrapped her arms around herself as Alex let go of her. She rubbed the sore spots on her arms as she tried to breathe through her pain. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she sat down on the ledge, looking at Alex who stood stunned.

“I should have told you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She tried to apologize but Alex looked at her like they meant nothing but mere words.

Balling his hands into fists and gritting his teeth, Alex huffed angrily before turning on his heels and walking away. Liv grimaced when he pulled the worn-out door open, it rattled against the hinges and rebounded with a bang when he threw it open against the wall. This is what she had feared. Liv had not only intentionally hurt someone, but she had also lost a friend.

🌟 Series Masterlist 🌟

Chapter Ten>

#captain syverson #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson x ofc #captain syverson angst #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #sand and stars series

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

Text

Its Own Reward

Fandom: The Bad Batch

Words: 2,098

Summary: If, at times of unseemly emotional vulnerability, Tech found himself longing for the one thing The Bad Batch didn’t have... well, that was between him and his overactive mind, thank you very much.

Warnings: Mentions of blood/injury later on, but very minor

A clone's favorite game, in the whole wide galaxy, was Picture Your General.

Picture your general in the heat of battle, lightsaber flashing, tearing through Separatist forces with the intensity of a Kaminoan storm.

Picture you general in the aftermath, entering a meditative state, calming the battalion with their mind alone.

Picture your general giving an order and you, standing tall, accept it with pride. Picture yourself as their right-hand man. Their greatest asset. The tool that will win this war.

Of course, at this stage one brother or another would point out the flaws in the fantasy. "Only a few of us will ever speak to them," they'd say. "You're not making Captain. Commander? Dream on. And watch the arrogance, vod. We're important, sure, but we're disposable too. No one is going to mourn us when we fall, certainly not a Jedi."

From there they would either grow quiet in discomfort, or pummel the offender with whatever was in reach, depending on the makeup of the group. No matter the outcome though, the game would inevitably repeat just a few hours later, picked up by everyone from the youngest cadet, to soldiers a day from their first assignment. Every clone in existence wanted to picture their general; imagine up a person worthy of the Kaminoans' stories and, though shared with more reservations, imagine the place they'd find at their side.

Every clone, that is, but Tech.

Well, he supposed Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair might be the same, but that was a hypothesis he hadn't tested yet. Out of everything Tech still needed to learn, that was rather low on his priority list. Meanwhile, spending time on a useless game was downright foolish. Oh, he had nothing against games on their own — they fostered a number of desirable outcomes, including, but far from limited to, a social comradery that would serve them well in battle — but this game, Picture Your General, had nothing to offer him. For the simple reason that Tech would never have one.

It was a fact the Regs took great pleasure in pointing out. Frequently.

"Ignore them," Crosshair said, stealing an extra ration off Tech's tray. History implied that he wasn't actually that hungry, merely interested in teasing Wrecker with the extra food. He'd pretend to save it for most of the night until, inevitably, handing it off as a grudging, midnight snack. Crosshair played with the food, but Tech knew his attention was on the rowdy group to their left. "They're not worth it."

Given that it was just the two of them, Tech allowed himself a scowl, snatching the ration back. He had nothing against Wrecker receiving additional food, especially given his fast metabolism, but it was the principal of the thing. This was his. "Says the man who instigated four altercations this week."

"I like riling them up." The food moved back to Crosshair's side of the table. "You don't."

"You're mistaken. I take great pleasure in correcting our less cordial brothers. Though their initial claim is sound, the reasons for why we will not be assigned a Jedi are erroneous in the extreme."

"You mean that we're useless, unwanted defects who don't deserve to lick a Jedi's boots?"

"While I wouldn't have phrased it quite like that... yes. It's factually incorrect."

"Hmm. Your face doesn't say 'factually incorrect.'"

"That's because you're stealing my food!"

"You're mistaken," Crosshair mimicked, this time stuffing the ration deep into his pocket where Tech didn't have a hope of reclaiming it. "Ignore them."

Tech rarely denied himself the chance to speak at length on any topic he pleased, but this time he bit down on the retort that he literally could not. The Kaminoans had ensured that he picked up and payed attention to everything around him, even what he didn't want to hear.

Still, clones were nothing if not adaptable and very little in this galaxy was black and white. The very thing Tech craved was also evidence of his greatest joy: the rest of his squad. They weren't made for a Jedi, they were made for each other. The Regs might have seen that as another defect, but Tech understood the inevitability of balance. If he wanted something as remarkable as his team, he had to give up something else in turn.

Like the knowledge that someone else, anyone else, was fighting for them. To the Kaminoans they were property. Expensive and prized property, no doubt, but even the most beautiful tool would be discarded in time. To the other clones they were outsiders, a blight on everything else they took pride in. And to the Jedi they were... non-existent. Or near enough, Tech supposed. When called to assist a battalion they usually did so on the outskirts, getting into the enemy territory their brothers couldn't negotiate, leaving for the next suicide mission by the time they'd caught up. It resulted in a reputation that was, ironically, quite uniform, given their otherwise individualistic looks and personalities. The Bad Batch was a team of four who did what other clones couldn't. That's all the Jedi needed to know; presumably wanted to know. And Tech could hardly fault them for that when in the midst of a war. Like him, they had much more important matters to occupy their thoughts.

That naïve indifference — an inability to be seen — might have been bearable if Tech hadn't accumulated such a clear picture of them. Oh yes, much of it came down to his academic nature, scrolling through datapads in the dead of night, soaking up information about anything, but especially that which was so crucial to the war... but there were stories too. The GAR was full of them. Whereas cadets played Picture Your General, soldiers spoke of the real thing, at times even more fantastical than their imaginings. Whispers spread through the ranks of Master Obi-Wan's compassion, claims that he fought for clones on and off the battlefield, giving as much respect as he demanded in turn. His former Padawan was, they said, as much a vod as any of them, prone to establishing an equality based on practical jokes and near-death situations — the kind of insanity clones were genetically predisposed to enjoy. There was talk that Unduli welcomed every soldier into her ranks with a Mirialan ritual, that Windu was fighting for clone rights in the Senate, even jokes that Plo Kloon had millions of adoption papers ready and waiting for the war's end... utter nonsense that last bit, of course. Yet every time Tech scoffed at a Reg's unseemly devotion, an awful little voice in the back of his head pointed out that the jokes had to stem from something. One did not craft rumors about a Jedi's kindness unless they had done quite a bit to establish it in the first place.

Tech didn't need kindness, only assurances. Bonds with the Jedi provided his brothers with a connection outside of the Kaminoans. They were building a network, however small, for the day this war ended. The Jedi Council would fight for the clones, Tech was sure of that... but would they fight for a shadowy, defective squad they knew little about? Their place in this galaxy began with each other and ended with the occasional, dubious acquaintance of Hunter’s. That was not enough to survive on and Tech cared only about such practical matters.

At least, that’s what he told himself for a time, but it wasn’t in Tech’s nature to dismiss facts. Like how once Master Shaak Ti had laid a hand on his arm after training, bestowing a smile and words of praise that Tech later kicked himself for missing, too busy being disgustingly flummoxed by the attention. That warmth, gifted three different ways, stayed with him long after they'd left their simulations behind, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't rationalize it away as planning for the future.

Tech wanted a Jedi of his own. He simply... wanted.

In time those feelings didn't abate, but they were buried under an avalanche of new ones which, from a technical standpoint, he supposed amounted to much the same. After Kaller, Tech had lost his purpose in serving the Republic. Worse, he'd lost a member of his squad, even if he eventually got him back. Crosshair's presence now could no more lessen his past absence than food in one's hand could feed a starving man from yesterday. Tech's home was gone. The familiarity of his brothers' faces, even those twisted with cruelty, was something he craved. Everything from the rooms they'd once slept in to the smell of sterilized halls— all absent. So if Tech sometimes stared out at the stars and felt horrifyingly incomplete, who was he to say what that stemmed from? There were too many possibilities. The data was corrupted beyond repair and trying to divide what he'd lost from what the Kaminoans had denied him was an entirely useless endeavor. An experiment not worth his time.

Still, Tech was made of curiosity. His mind was always on the lookout for patterns and new information, whether he wanted it to be or not. In truth though, he figured that Omega's near death was an experience that would have stood out to anyone, genius not required.

Her screams were quite the conductor for one's focus.

"Shoot it! Shoot it!"

The order was for Crosshair, but Hunter couldn't see that he'd been knocked out by the krykna's last attack, one spindly leg the size of a cruiser slamming into his side. Hunter himself was trapped, hands scrambling to free his leg from the cave's crevice even as he yelled. Tech noted, in the dim way his mind noticed most things during a crisis, that he was now using his knife for leverage, cutting into his calf in the process, uncaring. Meanwhile, Wrecker was overwhelmed by the krykna's cluster, something about his size and boisterous nature attracting them like... well. Like kryknas to a clone. Echo was trying to help, but the planet's magnetic field had been messing with his prosthetics ever since they'd landed. Tech saw them both disappear under a small mountain of the creatures, yelling Omega's name all the while.

And Tech... he was running. Yes. He realized that now, legs pounding across the ground, heedless of the numerous arachnid bodies that crunched beneath his boots. He couldn't say that his attention was solely on Omega, her face now just inches from the krykna's pincers. It never was. Tech couldn't help but catalogue a hundred other observations as she neared death's door, most of them quite distressing. Like the difference in height between him and his brothers. Or his abysmal scores in sprinting back on Kamino. Omega was at least five meters away whereas the krykna, most assuredly, was not.

I'm going to lose another one, Tech thought as his next laborious pant turned into a sob. Probability proves it.

Thank the Maker his calculations were incomplete.

Later, the five of them would describe the sensation as akin to static electricity. Even Crosshair, unconscious, would say that he'd felt something passing along his skin, heedless of armor and all the more disconcerting for being... impossible. An impossible memory. Only Tech and Hunter saw it though, the moment when the krykna rose off the ground and flew, all five tons of it, slamming into the opposite wall where its skull caved in like an over-ripe fruit.

Omega sat with her little hand outstretched, looking just as dumbfounded as her brothers. When he finally reached her, Tech found evidence of the krykna's teeth on either side of her neck. They'd only just punctured the skin.

A moment of certain death, averted through instinct. Destiny? Perhaps some combination of the two.

"It's okay. You're okay. Omega, please breathe for me."

Tech was blessed — sometimes cursed — with an extraordinary memory, the ability to recall not just books' worth of information, but images in perfect clarity too. Superimposed over a sobbing Omega was a cadet from his youth. No one important. No one whose name Tech had bothered to learn, uninterested in remembering it against his will. But the boy's words had already been spoken.

"Kriff, maybe we're wrong, vod! Maybe the defect will get a Jedi. After all, don't they say the Force works in mysterious ways?"

An insult, a taunt, and now perhaps a speck of wisdom that Tech should have heeded. He pulled Omega into his arms, one gloved hand sinking into her curls, the other wrapping tight around her waist. He'd performed this gesture a hundred times before, but this time it felt like something slotted into place.

"There you are," Tech whispered and for now, he'd pretend that this was nothing more than a reassurance.

#TBB #The Bad Batch #TBB Fic #Tech #Omega #Crosshair #TBBfic #Star Trek #SW

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rocorambles · 4 years

Text

Conquer

Pairing: Oikawa x Male Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Yandere, Non-Con/Dub-Con, Manipulative, Obsessive, and Possessive Behavior

Summary: That should be him. He should be your setter. And suddenly the desire to defeat you isn’t just a desire anymore, it’s a necessity. Anything to show you that you’re better off with him, that you were meant to be playing alongside him, that you were meant to be with him.

As fond as Oikawa has become of Hinata, his head aches from the thought of meeting one of the enthusiastic orange-haired boy’s friends and he prays to anyone who’s listening that you aren’t nearly as energetic or loud as Hinata. Hinata by himself is great, a riot, someone who never fails to bring a smile to Oikawa’s face, but he always feels like he’s been hit by a whirlwind or spent too long in the sun after a day with the younger athlete, barely able to drag himself into the shower before collapsing into a heap on his bed, falling instantly asleep as his head hits the pillow and he seriously wonders if he’d even survive two Hinatas. So he’s pleased to find that you’re refreshingly normal when he meets Hinata and you at a local restaurant and the three of you fall into a relaxing rhythmic cadence of conversation over the clinking of cutlery, plates, and glasses.

But maybe he had judged you too fast and as he watches you expertly race across the sandy terrain of the beach volleyball court across from Hinata and him, he thinks that maybe you’re not that normal after all.

He knew you had played on Nekoma’s team and while he had never personally seen or played against the notorious team, their reputation preceded them. Masters of defense. A powerhouse school. He knew you must be somewhat decent to be a starter on a team like that, but you exceed any of his expectations as you flawlessly, almost irritatingly easily, receive and block every one of his serves, every one of Hinata’s spikes. And he’s vaguely reminded of Date Tech’s impenetrable walls as you leap up in the air, the resounding smack of your palm meeting Hinata’s attacks echoing through the air. But while Iwaizumi had been able to break through those defenses, he thinks that his old friend would find scoring past you much more difficult.

Oikawa has faced his fair share of talented and skillful opponents and yet, there’s something different about you, something that keeps his eyes locked on you, something that stirs something powerful and alive within him. It’s different from the competitiveness he feels when he sees Kageyama setting across the net. It’s different from the anger he feels when Ushijima sternly stares down at him after another humiliating defeat.

But he can’t place a finger on the feeling and it festers inside of him long after the three of you are worn out, long after they wave goodbye to you at the airport.

He assumes it’ll pass, that life will return to normal. But the feeling only grows inside of him, beginning to twist with something darker as he religiously checks and re-checks your social media profiles over and over again, as your face and body infiltrate his every waking thought and seep into his dreams. All he can think of is you, you, you and a sharp wild grin spreads across his face when he sees you innocently smiling, radiating and glowing with happiness as you announce your new position on the Japan Olympic Volleyball team.

Well, well, well. Looks like he’d be seeing you sooner than he ever imagined.

You look good in red, although he can’t help but imagine how much better you’d look in Argentinian blue, on the same side of the court as him, alongside him, directing your tosses and smiles his way. Maybe in the future, but for now, the thought of playing against you once more, seeing your body flex and arch in the air and on the ground, watching the fiery passion and concentration in your eyes as you intently watch his every move spurs him on and he throws himself into each and every practice, intent on becoming even better, intent on showing you how far he’s come from that day in Rio, intent on utterly defeating you.

And that drive never lessens, only growing stronger and stronger until he’s finally here, at the biggest venue of the sports world, bright lights shining down upon both your teams, and a deep yearning pulls at his heart when he sees you in person, so close to him after years of being so far away, so out of reach.

But why aren’t you looking at him?

Some rational part of him urges him to calm down, tells him he’s being crazy, but it does nothing to soothe the hurt, the fury, the betrayal inside of him as you don’t even spare a glance his way, smiling far too warmly at Iwaizumi as he helps you stretch, laughing far too loudly at something Hinata says and he seethes at the sight of Hinata slinging an arm across your shoulders as he excitedly tells you something. His nails dig into the palm of his hands as he sees even usually stoic Ushijima faintly smiling at you as you chat with him about something, but what hurts the most is watching Kageyama and you interact, watching both of you discuss plays and strategies.

That should be him. He should be your setter. And suddenly the desire to defeat you isn’t just a desire anymore, it’s a necessity. Anything to show you that you’re better off with him, that you were meant to be playing alongside him, that you were meant to be with him.

He has to give it up to all of you. You aren’t called Japan’s monster generation for no reason and in a sick, almost masochistic way, he’s proud of Iwaizumi for training a team of monsters to go all out against him, he’s fired up by how hard you all make it to cinch victory, he’s giddy with excitement at seeing just how much better everyone has gotten. It just makes it that much sweeter, that much more enjoyable to see the beautiful look of despair and loss across your faces when Argentina wins the final set. And he revels in the exhilarating feeling of victory, in the sadistic pleasure of finally seeing pain in Ushijima’s and Kageyama’s eyes.

But he at least has the decency to feel a bit of empathy when he sees the downcast look on Hinata’s face and the disappointment in Iwaizumi’s eyes and he refrains from gloating as much as he wants to. However his breath catches in his throat when he sees you, sees the glistening tears in your eyes and he hates that he’s partly the reason for your inner turmoil, but a darker part of him can’t help but find you beautiful with unshed tears making your eyes sparkle even more, can’t help but imagine what it would be like to wrap you in his arms, hold you tight to his body, be your only source of comfort.

He wonders what you’d smell like, what your body would feel like pressed against his, what other face expressions and emotions you’re hiding from him. He wonders if he can make you cry in other ways, defeat and dominate you off the court. And he keeps on gazing at you, too intently, too long, too hungrily, too wickedly, ignorant of the way green eyes narrow in concern.

Oikawa hums cheerfully as he makes his way to the bar Iwaizumi and he had agreed to meet at, genuinely excited and eager to catch up with his long-time best friend in person. It also doesn’t hurt that as your official trainer, he’d probably know exactly where you are, where you’ll be, where you’re staying in the Olympic Village. And he pats himself for his efficiency, his manipulative charm, his way with words as he subtly coaxes more and more information from Iwaizumi about his team overall, about his team members, about you, the trainer oblivious of the darker intent in his questions...or so he thinks until there’s a tense pause when your name is brought up and Iwaizumi fixes him with an impassive stare.

“Oi, Shittykawa. What are you planning?”

Of course Iwaizumi of all people would be able to see through him and Oikawa momentarily falters at the steely look in his friend’s eyes, mind racing to figure out his next move. Play dumb? Lie? No. Iwaizumi would see through any of his fake antics and only get more suspicious. The truth it is...or at least part of it anyway.

And despite the slight hiccup in his plans, Oikawa has the upper hand once more as he uses Iwaizumi’s unfaltering faith in the brunette against him, his strong belief that as irritating as Oikawa could be, he was still a good person at heart and that he would never do anything truly terrible.

He weaves an innocent tale of how he’d fallen head over heels in love with you at first sight when he met you in Rio all those years ago, how he just wants a chance to get to know you better now that your paths have crossed again. Surely Iwa-chan would help him, right? Help him find you. Help him reconnect with the man who’s grabbed his attention.

None of that is technically a lie and he knows he has Iwaizumi hook, line, and sinker when suspicion turns into amusement and his tense shoulders relax. And all too easily Iwaizumi is helping him plan out his next steps, unknowingly speeding up your demise as he shares your current whereabouts, practically shoving Oikawa your way and telling him to go comfort you, winking and sending an encouraging smile his way.

If only he truly understood exactly what he was encouraging, what he was allowing to happen.

But ignorance is bliss and Oikawa plasters on a smile before swiftly turning around and making his way towards the Olympic Village spa, weaving through the throngs of athletes until he finds you in the jacuzzi that Iwaizumi had directed him towards, alone in the steaming water, a pout on your lips, eyes lost in thought and blind to the handsome setter drawing near. And Oikawa uses your distraction to take you fully in, take in your bare chest, your cute nipples on display above the bubbling jets, the length and lines of your arms splayed out on either side of you, resting on the edge of the tub and he scrunches his nose a bit in annoyance at the way bubbles hide the rest of you from his view. But that’s fine. After all, he has all night to fully explore and discover your body to his heart’s content.

He pointedly coughs loudly once he’s at the water’s edge, succeeding in getting your attention and he has to admit, it hurts a bit when you flinch when you see exactly who’s disturbed your wallowing, but it’s understandable. He knows far too well what loss feels like and he can somewhat imagine how it must feel to have a once in a lifetime dream dashed to pieces. Nationals aren’t quite as high stakes as the Olympics, but he can extrapolate from those experiences.

In your defense you’re really trying to be polite, a forced smile finding its way on your lips as you greet the setter. He can work with that and he sinks his claws into your every word, using every skill he’s learned and honed over the years of being a social butterfly to read your mood, fluidly dodging anything that would sour your mood, leaning into the words and stories that put a sparkle in your eyes and soon enough it feels like the two of you are back in Rio where there was nothing to worry about except enjoying each other’s companies and fooling around on a beach volleyball court with no stakes except who could have more fun.

You don’t notice how close Oikawa has gotten to you until he tells you a story that has your body bent in half as you howl in laughter and when you rise back up, straightening your back as you catch your breath, suddenly your face to face with the handsome brunette, your noses practically brushing against each other, his warm breath on your face, brown eyes the only thing you can see. And maybe you just need a distraction from the devastating loss, maybe respect and admiration for the talented athlete has morphed into something more, maybe it’s purely physical desire, maybe it’s all the above that has you melting into Oikawa’s hold as he gently, but firmly holds the back of your neck and presses his lips against yours.

You’re breathless by the time he finally pulls away and you sheepishly try to remove your hands that have found their way around his waist, but calloused hands stop you from straying too far and as you look into gleaming chocolate eyes, being alone is the last thing on your mind and you easily trail after the other athlete, weaving through the crowds in your haste to continue what you’d started. The two of you burst through Oikawa’s door, stumbling over each other as your lips meet and it’s a fight for dominance as the two of you crash land on the hotel bed, hands tearing clothes off.

But Oikawa’s intent on making sure you know he dominates you in bed as much as he does on the court and with a rough twist, he has you pinned underneath him, groaning as your erect pre-cum slicked cocks grind against each other.

You glower at him as he teases you for getting so worked up from just a slight tussle in the sheets and he can feel his chest almost burst with excitement at the fire in your eyes, wild energy thrumming in him at the way lust is beginning to dim that flame as he wraps a large hand around both your lengths, thumb playing with your leaking slit, spreading your pre-cum everywhere as he strokes both of you painfully slowly. And he doesn’t stop until there’s only lingering embers in your eyes, until you’re writhing underneath him, desperate moans and pleas for him to give you more slipping past your lips.

He smiles as you let out a whine when he suddenly stops his ministrations, pride coiling inside of him at the mess he’s made of such a strong opponent, but he wants more, wants to see you completely submit and he reaches over to the bedside table, generously coating his digits with lube, smirking down at you as he presses a finger into your tight hole. Your brows furrow and you bite your lower lip as your body adjusts to the uncomfortable stretch, but Oikawa takes his time, dragging his fingers against your insides, scissoring them inside of you, slipping more and more inside of you until your once tight hole begins to gape and yield, becoming pliant around him. And he smirks when he finds the bundle of nerves inside of you that has you violently arching your back, wailing his name.

Teasing you, watching you break more and more until your face is drenched in tears and drool is addicting, but even he has his limits and his cock twitches, demanding his attention. He snarls in displeasure when you somehow find the ability to ask him to wear a condom as he begins to guide his tip to your stretched hole. Clearly he hadn’t done as good of a job as wrecking you as he thought if you still had the ability to deny him, to question him, to worry about useless things. What’s the point of worrying about protection when he knows he’s clean, when he knows he’ll be the only man to ever breach your tight asshole ever again?

So he ignores your incessant whining, moaning in pleasure as he easily bottoms out inside of you and he mockingly coos down at how quickly your usage of words stop when he’s fully sheathed inside of you, how quickly you’re reduced to incoherent babbling and lewd moans at the feeling of his cock inside of you. And as he repeatedly slams against your prostate with every thrust of his hips a condom is the last thing on your mind, your head fuzzy and hazy with pleasure as you beg for more, harder, faster.

But you blearily blink in confusion when he suddenly stops, a petulant pout on your lips as you stare up at him.

“Say you love me.”

Even in your dazed state, that line cuts through the fog and you try to raise yourself up on your elbows, trying to register exactly what Oikawa is saying. But when a hand wraps around your cock, you fall back with a cry, hands digging into the rumpled bed sheets as you try to ground yourself, remind yourself that something’s not right about this situation.

It’s fascinating watching your internal struggle and Oikawa regards the silent movie in your eyes, a twisted sneer on his face at how easy it is to control you like a puppet with just a few calculated flicks of his wrist, a couple of well-aimed thrusts, and far too many denials of your release. And he can practically taste victory on his tongue when you finally give in, wanton exclamations of your love for him filling the air breaking off into pleasured screams as he resumes his rapid pace, hand stroking your cock in tandem as he fills you over and over again.

It doesn’t take long for you to break to pieces around him and he hungrily watches as your eyes roll back, as your own cum decorates your stomach, as you tightly squeeze around him and he’s following after you, wildly chasing his end until he slams one final time, balls deep inside of you, thick spurts coating your insides.

You whimper, body and mind still in post-coital bliss, still heavy and exhausted with pleasure, as you feel a sticky trail begin to run down your thigh and you can feel your eyelids begin to close, trying to sink into the soft pillow beneath your head. But you cry out, eyes snapping to attention when fingers are suddenly inside of you once more, fucking the sticky mess back inside of you, and you beg like your life depends on it, unsure if you’re begging him to stop or to give you more. Everything’s so confusing when Oikawa is involved and you’ve never felt less in control of your life as you’re dragged through endless cycles of orgasms and denials, forced to whisper phrases that make less and less sense as the night continues on.

“I love you, Tooru.”

“I’ll always be yours, only yours.”

“I’ll come to Argentina with you.”

The words feel foreign, feel wrong, feel strange, but every time you try to push through the ocean of pleasure you’re drowning in, try to make sense of everything, Oikawa is there pushing you underneath once more, holding you down there until you can’t think of anything else except the excruciating need to cum, cum, and cum.

Oikawa hums in pleasure as he stares at your slumped figure. He’s not even sure exactly when you passed out, too absorbed in forcefully pulling orgasm after orgasm from your body, but this makes the next step of his plan easier. You look so peaceful, so pure with your eyes closed and your chest rising and falling in slow even waves and he snaps a photo, sending it to Iwaizumi with a cheeky caption to make sure no one else on the team comes looking for you anytime soon. After all, he’s nowhere near done with you.

He rolls his eyes at the angry text Iwaizumi sends back about respecting your privacy and not taking creepy photos of his players when they’re sleeping, but a satisfied smile slips on his face when the trainer begrudgingly tells him congrats on following through and that he’d do his best to keep your nosy, energetic teammates from bothering the two of you.

With that out of the way, he finally turns to the plastic bag he’d tucked in the corner of his suitcase, pulling cords and cords of rope and rolls of duct tape as he closes in on your sleeping figure.

You’re doing so well, submitting so easily, obeying so eagerly, but Oikawa’s always been a strategizer, someone who thinks of all the possibilities and he’s not foolish enough to believe you wouldn’t relapse, wouldn’t find the strength to put up a fight in a last effort to keep your sanity, keep your spirit unbroken. Your strength is one of the things that had drawn him to you after all.

But as much as he loves watching your wild feral spirit, he thinks he’d rather see you perfectly tamed, owned, broken by him and for him.

The two of you still have quite a ways before you get there, but it’s nothing a little more time and effort won’t fix and Oikawa has built up a resilient spirit crafted by a lifetime’s worth of hardwork and dedication for this very moment.

Sometimes it takes longer than he anticipates, but he always wins in the end and you’re not going to be the exception.

#yandere haikyuu #haikyuu yandere #haikyuu smut #oikawa x reader #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon

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a-singleboat · 4 years

Text

LA Girl

Word Count: 3.5k

Request: Since requests are open, can I ask for one where Shayne Topp has secretly been dating an Alt girl (piercings, coloured hair, tattoos ect) for months and she has anxiety and is nervous about meeting the squad as she feels like they’re gonna judge her for being so different to him so Shayne introduces her to Damien first alone and Damien automatically likes her and they click really well so she tells him she’s ready to go public and meet the rest of the squad and they all accept her?❤️ - Anon

A/N: I hope you guys like this! It took me a while to conceptualize it at first but then the rest came pretty naturally :D

Warning(s): Mentions of oral sex (male receiving), swearing, mentions of sex, self deprecating thoughts

You never really liked living in Los Angeles. Most days it was too bright and there were too many people, too many tourists. Yeah, you hated living here. That is, of course, until you met Shayne.

At first, it appeared that you and Shayne were as different as night and day. Literally. He was the perfect LA Boy, with his blonde hair and his trim physique, always looking like the sun while you… you liked your dark colors and vibrant hairstyles, not to mention your multitudes of piercings and tattoos. In the mornings that you did spend together, Shayne liked to trace them with the tips of his fingers before the day started.

These past few months with Shayne have been euphoric, for lack of better words. It seemed you were forever stuck in your honeymoon phase together but even you knew that it couldn’t last forever. The first fight you’d have, the first disagreement, stemmed from your own insecurities.

As you’d mentioned before, Shayne looked like the perfect LA Boy, as did the rest of his friends. He didn’t stand out while walking the length of Hollywood Boulevard and he certainly didn’t catch any of the police officer’s eyes when he went to the bank.

Which is why you weren’t so sure you wanted to meet them, his friends that is. You were sure that they would judge you for your alternative fashion choices, just like everyone else did.

“They’re not like that,” Shayne tried to convince you for the umpteenth time that day. You had just finished washing the dishes, using your day off to catch up on chores you’d neglected during the week. Shayne was supposed to be completing his coursework for his degree but instead he’d decided to pester you with this topic once more.

“My friends are super supportive and they just want to meet you,” he tried again. “And if they say anything then they’re not really my friends. They’ll love you, I promise.”

You picked up the laundry basket full of clean clothes from beside your front door, dumping the basket out on the couch. You cleared off a small section on the coffee table so that you could fold your laundry.

“I’m just worried,” you confessed, folding a cropped shirt in half twice before dropping it into the laundry basket. “You say that they’re supportive and that they just want to meet me but you also just said, ‘if they say anything.’ Shayne, if I really didn’t have a reason to worry, you wouldn’t have thrown that in there.”

“Okay, that was my bad,” he admitted, “but I’m serious. You have nothing to worry about, they’ll all love you.”

You gave him a weary look, folding a pair of black cargo pants over your arm. A few weeks ago, you’d met Shayne’s parents and while they were two of the most loving and welcoming people you had met, you could still see the discomfort and unease hidden behind their eyes. They expected someone different, with less tattoos and piercings most likely. They probably weren’t expecting their blonde baby boy to be with a neon-pink-haired twenty-something with daddy issues galore.

“Okay, how about this,” Shayne took the pants from your hands, folding them and setting them onto the coffee table. “I’ll invite Damien over to mine for dinner tonight as a tester. If everything goes well with him, then maybe you’ll consider meeting everyone else?”

You took up your cargo pants once more, settling them in the laundry basket with the rest of your folded clothing. You had less than half the original pile left, the rest of the clothing being mainly bras and socks that still needed to be sorted.

“Okay,” you gave in. What was the worst that could happen?

As it turns out, completely forgetting that Damien was due to arrive any moment at Shayne’s apartment was the worst thing that could happen. His best friend’s first impression of you would forever be this: you on your knees with Shayne’s dick halfway down your throat while you gave him a before-dinner blowjob.

Embarrassment burned through your entire being as Damien realized what was happening before he closed the front door and called out, “I’m so sorry, I should have knocked!”

You looked up at Shayne who couldn’t decide between being mortified and being smug. It took everything within your power not to punch him in the dick, considering it was literally right there in front of you.

“Go… take care of yourself,” you awkwardly chuckled, patting his thigh lightly. “I’ll let your friend in and hopefully not die from embarrassment on the way.”

Shayne scrambled up off the couch and into his bathroom while you opened the container of mints you kept under the coffee table for these types of instances. Not that you and Shayne expected people to walk in during any of that normally. You washed your hands at the sink while you chewed the mint, giving yourself a moment to breathe before even thinking about opening the door.

Once you’d calmed down enough, you opened the door for Damien, unable to meet his eye as you let him in.

“Uh, sorry you had to see any of that…” You closed the door behind him, double checking the lock to make sure it was still working. “We don’t usually do it out here, um--”

“You don’t need to explain yourself,” Damien tried to save the night. “It’s not like I haven’t seen Shayne’s dick before--I mean--Not in the way you’d think--”

The two of you dissolved into laughter, still thinking of a way to dig your way out of the hole you’d awkwardly made. When Shayne was telling you about Damien, he did mention that he was possibly the most awkward of his friends which made him the perfect ‘test monkey’ for the night.

“I should’ve knocked,” Damien settled, an apologetic look on his face. “Shayne gave me a key a while back and I usually just let myself in but that’s really no excuse. I’m sorry.”

Shayne had also mentioned Damien was the most polite out of them all. Not that the others weren’t polite, because they were. He had meant it in the way that Damien would apologize for existing if he could (which he has done before).

“It’s okay, really. Though, we might have to tweak the story of how we met for future conversations.” You made your way into Shayne’s little kitchenette. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Water is fine,” Damien said, moving to sit in one of the chairs at the high table. You grimaced at the couch, making a mental note to grab some disinfectant once Shayne came out of the bathroom. “And yeah, we’ll just leave that part out for future retellings.”

You pulled a glass from one of the cabinets, filling it with water from the Brita. You added a few ice cubes as well, smiling as they clinked against the sides of the glass.

“So, how did you and Shayne meet?” Damien asked, thanking you for the glass. You took up the other seat, crossing your right leg over your left.

“At the tattoo shop I work at, actually,” you played with the end of your belt, twisting the fabric over your hand until it covered your knuckles. For this meeting, you’d decided to tone down your wardrobe--less chains and more softer fabrics. Your pleated skirt had been exchanged for the black cargo pants you’d folded earlier. That paired with a simple side release buckle belt and a structured white top for contrast, this was probably the most “tame” you’ve dressed in a while.

“He came in with another friend of his, Paul, and sat with him while I worked on a piece for his sleeve. After that, I gave him my number in case he ever wanted to get a tattoo himself and the rest is history.”

“I can’t believe Paul technically met you before I did,” Damien said in disbelief. You heard the toilet flush and the sink turn on which meant your boyfriend would be joining the two of you soon.

The awkwardness between you and Damien had faded slightly but you could still feel the tension in the air. Shayne opened the bathroom door and you looked over your shoulder to watch as your no longer disheveled boyfriend entered the room. He’d changed his pants, which was fair, and he was holding the disinfectant in hand as if he’d read your mind.

You hopped off the seat and took it from him, spraying down the entire couch while he greeted his friend.

“Really sorry you had to see that,” Shayne said, laughing as they clapped their hands together. “We would have disinfected the couch either way, just so you know.”

Damien laughed as you finished cleaning off the couch, setting the disinfectant on the coffee table. You couldn’t be bothered with putting it away in the bathroom right now.

“Well, this is Y/n, my girlfriend,” Shayne pulled on your arm until you settled into his side. You gave a small wave. “And she made Italian for dinner so unless you now want nothing to do with me, we can start eating now.”

“Sounds great.”

Once you actually got over the initial awkwardness, your night actually turned out enjoyable. Damien was extremely funny and nice, just like Shayne had said. He’d even asked about your job and your own tattoos, expressing his own thoughts about getting one or two done himself.

“If you get it done at my shop, I can get you a discount,” you offered, taking a sip of your water. “Friends and family get twenty-percent off, though that doesn’t include the tip.”

“Really?” Damien asked. He looked shocked that you’d even offer to tattoo him, let alone provide him with a discount.

“Yeah,” you grinned. “Just let me know when and we can set up an appointment.”

“That’d be amazing.”

The three of you were sitting on the couch now, you and Shayne sitting on the side closest to the window while Damien was on the other end. His body was angled toward the two of you as “The Office” played quietly in the background.

“Does this mean I’ll be seeing you around more?” Damien asked. “Shayne always comes alone to out-of-work get-togethers and Courtney’s been pestering him to bring you around for some time now.”

“She has?” you looked up at Shayne, asking if that was true.

He nodded. “Why do you think I’ve been so insistent on getting you to meet my friends? They all want to meet you.”

“It doesn’t help that you’re all he talks about,” Damien chuckled. “I swear, every other word from his mouth is something about you. Whether it’s wondering what you’re doing to wondering how you’re doing, it’s always about you.”

You reached up and patted Shayne’s cheek lightly. “Aw, babe. You think about me? How embarrassing.”

He swatted your hand away, chuckling as you giggled at the shared joke between you.

You talked for a little longer, sharing stories between the three of you before Damien caught sight of the time.

“I should get going,” he said, standing up. You got up as well, giving him a hug before letting him and Shayne say their goodbyes. Once Damien had left the apartment completely, you released a breath you didn’t know you were holding in, you shoulder relaxing. While Shayne was an extrovert, you found yourself physically and mentally drained from hanging out with just one person.

The entire experience was new for you. Since you’d started dressing how you wanted to dress and expressing yourself accordingly, there have been people less than willing to be nice to you or show you any sort of kindness. It was mostly linked to the fact that people thought that if you wore black, put on lots of make-up, had piercings, and had tattoos you were a bad person and an even worse role model. Not only was that hurtful, it made you very self conscious about meeting new people.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Shayne said, pulling you in for a hug. You sunk into his arms, wrapping your own arms around his torso.

“It wasn’t terrible,” you replied, your words muffled by the fabric of his shirt. You turned your head sideways so that you could hear his steady heartbeat, allowing it to lull you into what felt like security. “Though, the beginning could have been better.”

“We’re never speaking of the beginning again.”

“Agreed.”

Shayne started to sway with you in his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before letting go. “So how do you feel about going to brunch with the rest of my friends on Saturday?”

After meeting Damien, your anxiety had subsided. No longer did you think you would be judged for the type of clothes you chose to wear but this time the anxiety of meeting so many people at once surfaced. When you didn’t respond, he looked down at you worried.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I just…” If you said what you were thinking out loud, you knew you were going to sound ridiculous. “It’s nothing.”

“No, really,” he frowned, “tell me what’s wrong. Bottling it all up inside won’t work this time.”

You sighed. “I--Shayne, you’re perfect, you know that?”

“I wouldn’t say perfect but…” You dug your fingers into his side, causing him to laugh. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“It’s just that you’re the perfect LA Boy and I look nothing like the perfect LA Girl that you so clearly deserve. I mean, Damien was nice but that’s literally just how he is. What if your other friends think I’m, like, a terrible influence on you with my millions of piercings and tattoos and attention-seeking hair and--”

He cut you off with his lips, arms pulling you in impossibly closer and effectively stopping you in your tracks.

When he pulled away, you fixed him with a playful glare. “Shayne Robert Topp, you did not just pull a movie cliche on me while I was airing out all my concerns to you. Apologize right now.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, pressing another kiss to the top of your head. “But, Y/n, you don’t need to be the ‘perfect LA Girl,’ you’re perfect the way you are. That doesn’t mean I’d like you any less if you decided that you did want to become whatever you think is the ‘perfect LA Girl’ because I’d like you no matter what. I just like you.”

“Even if I went bald?”

“Even if you went bald.”

You’ve said it once and you’ll say it again: you fucking loved this man.

“I love you,” you said, pouting your bottom lip. You felt the tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you looked up at him in adoration.

“I love you, too.”

By the time Saturday rolled around, you were ready to meet the rest of Shayne’s friends. Most of your anxieties had been successfully quelled, though they still lingered. You had gotten your hair done again the day before, meaning you were now sporting a bright neon green. You matched your makeup to your vibrant new dye and picked out a heat-appropriate outfit.

“Are you ready to go?” Shayne called from your front room, interrupting your self-admiration session. You gave yourself one last look in the full-length mirror in your room before slipping on the pair of DnD dice filled platform shoes that added at least three inches to your height.

“Ready.” You stopped to pose in the doorway, the bottom of your shirt riding up as you leaned against the wooded frame. “Baby, how do I look?”

Shayne looked up from his phone, his jaw dropping the second he laid eyes on you. A blush settled nicely onto your cheeks, as you grew shy under his gaze. He dropped his phone on the couch and crossed the room in three long strides. He pulled you in by the waist, pressing a kiss to your lips. You melted into his touch, a giddy feeling spreading through your being as your arms looped around his neck, bringing him closer.

“You look amazing,” he breathed, pulling away. You giggled as you realized that a bit of your black lipstick had transferred off onto his lip. You reached up and wiped his top lip with your thumb.

“Thank you,” you giggled, rubbing your fingers together until the black rubbed off. “What time did your friends say?”

“We’ve got some time…” his fingers crept up your side, dipping under your shirt and tracing the band of your bra with his thumb.

You smacked his hand. “Naughty boy.”

You didn’t end up leaving the apartment for another thirty minutes, though you couldn’t complain about it. Still, you ended up making it on time. From where you’d parked on the street, you could see Shayne’s friends spread across two connected tables, laughing on the patio.

Damien was the first to spot the two of you, standing from his seat and calling out, inviting you into the sectioned off area. You took up residence in the seat closest to him, leaving Shayne to take the seat on your other side.

“You guys, this is my girlfriend, Y/n,” Shayne introduced you to everyone at the table. There were nine other people sitting at the table. You recognized maybe six of them from the videos you’d watched, while the other three were most likely spouses (considering how close they were sitting next to who you assumed were their significant others).

“Hi, Y/n!” the blonde sitting next to Damien greeted. You recognized her immediately as the inspiration for Shayne’s alter ego, Courtney Freaking Miller.

You smiled politely as everyone went around introducing themselves to you, from Olivia and Sam to Sarah and Claudio, you didn’t feel out of place for one second. The hand that had been tightly intertwined with Shayne’s relaxed as you grew even more comfortable around his friends.

“So Damien told us that you worked at a tattoo parlor,” Ian inquired, propping an arm up on the table and resting his chin in the palm of his hand. On his left sat Anthony, who also looked interested in your answer. “And Shayne did, too, I guess. Did Damien tell you that your boyfriend literally never stops talking about you?”

You giggled. “He did tell me that and I find it adorable that he can’t go a second without missing me.”

“I wish Peter was like that,” the purple haired woman, Mari, complained playfully, nudging her husband’s side. Peter just laughed it off, casually putting his arm around her shoulders.

“You do not,” he refuted. “You get flustered when I even mention you to my friends.”

She huffed, though there were no traces of anger to be found on her face. “It’s the sentiment that counts.”

Courtney put her menu down, reaching over to grab her glass of water. “I’ve always wanted to get a tattoo. Y/n, yours are so pretty.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks at the compliment. “Thank you! I actually did most of them myself.”

Courtney’s eyes widened at that. She reached over Damien, who had leaned far back enough in his seat to allow her to do that. She motioned at your sleeve, specifically at the roses that decorated the back of your forearm. They were cliche and most likely overused but you just thought they were pretty.

“Those? You did those yourself?”

“Yeah!” you said enthusiastically. You offered your arm out, allowing her to take a closer look. “My friend, Alyssa, designed it for me and as soon as I was trusted to wield an actual tattoo gun, it was the first piece I worked on.”

“That’s insanely cool,” she gushed, tracing a finger over one of the larger roses. “And you’re insanely talented.”

“Thank you!”

For some reason, Courtney was originally your biggest concern. Most of the insecurity had sprouted from the constant online presence of the ship Shourtney, which Shayne assured you was nothing but a meme. And you trusted your boyfriend, and though you didn’t know Courtney, you trusted her too. But sitting here, at the same brunch spot as her, sharing the same meal as she was, all your fears washed away.

It was incredibly difficult not to like her. Not only was she extremely nice, but insanely pretty as well. Though you had to accredit most of your confidence to Shayne, who only had eyes for you despite everything else. You’d thought that you would find yourself vying for his attention in front of everyone but not once did he leave you to flounder. He was always there, ready to step into any conversation you were having.

When you’d all finished your meals and began to wrap up the late morning, you couldn’t help but show your gratitude for your amazing boyfriend by pressing a huge kiss to his cheek, whispering that you loved him while everyone had grown content in their own little conversations with each other.

Content, he grinned and his arm around your shoulders tightened just that much more as he used his free hand to tilt your face up towards him. He pressed a kiss to your lips, keeping it short and sweet, before pulling away and whispering, “I love you, too.”

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sleepingrenjun · 4 years

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unravel | ML

A Spooky Collaboration ϟ Myself and @lucaswithnoshirt have taken the term ‘trick or treat’ to a new level with this Halloween special collaboration, with each of us writing about Vampire!Mark Lee and incorporating our own trick or treat twist. Who wrote the trick and who wrote the treat? Well, read on to find out…

Find @lucaswithnoshirt ‘s story here!

Genre ϟ Vampire x vampire hunter AU. Kinda horror, kinda not. Lots of angst, the usual :)

Length ϟ 11.7k

Pairing ϟ Mark Lee x reader

Warnings ϟ character death (y’all are used to this by now), violence, blood, murder(??), vampires (is this even a necessary warning…?) making out (it gets a lil suggestive but not rly), swearing and a whole lotta angst!

Playlist ϟ unravel playlist

Summary ϟ You want him dead, so why can’t you kill him?

You’ve been watching him for a few days now. Memorising and mapping his movements one lengthy night after another. You’ve never seen his face in great detail; you don’t dare get close enough to allow for that. Not yet. He’s young, that much you’re certain of. If you had to guess you’d say he was in his early twenties – or rather his mortal body was. His immortal being could well have been several hundred years old, although certain habits of his you’d noticed while observing him made him seem somewhat immature, like he was still trying to figure out how to live with his new needs. It’s a shame really, for his mortal life to have been taken from him when he had so much future ahead of him. You’ve no idea how long it’s been since he was turned. He’s only been feeding in this area for a couple of days and before that he’d been lurking near a darkened park on the far side of the city. You didn’t know where he’d been prior to that.

The sky was an inky blue up above you, the bright light of the moon and all of its stars the only thing illuminating the street that lay before you. He was leaning with his back against a lamppost, looking perfectly composed as he brought a hand up to wipe away some of the blood that was coating the skin around his lips and dripping down his chin. He was a messy eater, you noted. His slightly scruffy jet-black hair draped down his forehead and almost entirely covered his eyes, which you could just make out were glowing a devilish shade of red. You held your breath from your higher-up position, swiftly ducking your head when you saw him sweeping his gut-wrenching gaze over the area you were watching him from. He hadn’t spotted you, fortunately. This is one of the things that led you to believe he hadn’t been turned too long ago – if he’d been an older vampire, more experienced, he would’ve spotted and ended you in less than a second.

Ordinarily, you’d have made your move fairly early on, the fresher ones were always the easiest after-all, but for some reason you couldn’t quite bring yourself to drive your wooden stake through his chest just yet. He was intriguing, dangerously so. You’d do it soon though; before you got too attached to the routine you’d made for yourself.

You watched him closely as he took one last pointed look over his shoulder before disappearing within the blink of an eye.

Vampires repulsed you. Your brother had lost his mortal life to the fangs of a blood-thirsty woman when he was just 19. She’d been clever and unsuspicious, luring him in with temptation and deception before drinking the life out of him one gulp at a time. You were young and naïve when it happened; nothing more than a terrified 15-year-old trying her best to keep her breathing to a minimum so as to not notify the creature of her presence. You wanted to shout, to scream at your brother to fight back, but it was too late.

Ever since then, you vowed to be the glorious end of every vampire you set your fury-filled eyes on; and this young man was the next on your list.

The next night brings nothing much different to the previous. Hours upon hours of standing around and waiting for him to strike, your eyes growing heavy after his second kill of the evening. The unlucky soul had been a sleezy looking man who had to have been nearing 40; his greasy hair and sagging trousers enough to enlighten you on just the kind of person he most likely was, and some twisted part of you thought he almost deserved it when his neck was snapped painfully as the vampire drunk the colour from his skin. Almost. Perhaps that’s the one thing that was keeping you from approaching him, wooden stake in one hand and extermination in the other. His choice of victims was not what you usually observed from a young-looking vampire.

After another 20 minutes or so, you pinched some skin between your fingertips to try and wake yourself up from the threatening slumber lurking within you, rendering it useless when you stifled a yawn anyway. You flicked your eyes briefly to your wrist, noting that it was now well past 2am.

Casting one last calculating look over to the young vampire who was completely unaware of your presence, you decided to call it a night and head home. You placed your feet one in front of the other as quietly as you could so as to not draw attention to yourself, the action almost second nature to you now, until you were a safe enough distance away that you felt you could tread normally. The air was crisp, prompting you to lift the hood of your fleecy jacket over your head in an attempt to keep warm while simultaneously picking up your pace. It was late October, still technically Autumn but definitely noticeably colder than you wished it was. Leaves had fallen to the ground in a colourful array of oranges, reds and yellows and it made the world look so beautiful that it was dangerously easy to forget about the monsters lurking in the dark.

You rounded a sharp corner, your eyes dragging along the near-bare looking trees lining the pavement alongside a row of ornate looking town houses. This was a nice part of town, the pristine condition of the properties indicating it was clearly home to some of the wealthier folk. You thought you might like to live somewhere like this someday, a nice big house with no need to worry about noisy neighbours or unpleasant landlords. But as your building came into sight, you were reminded of your tiny one-bed apartment and the constant shouting that you could hear from the people across the hall.

You were snapped out of your thoughts by the sound of what you thought were footsteps coming up behind you at an inhuman speed, instantly whipping your head around and grabbing the hilt of the weapon hidden on the inside of your jacket. Nothing. You felt a shiver go down your spine, the situation immediately making you feel uneasy. You’d dealt with vampire attacks before and always managed to come out on top, and usually relatively unscathed. You silently told yourself to get yourself in check before turning your head back around, letting out the breath you were holding in when you didn’t see anything suspicious. This was one of the biggest draw backs of your vampire hunting, the constant paranoia, fear, the never-ending feeling that you were being watched or followed; but at least it had managed to keep you alive so far.

You started walking forwards again, barely making it two steps before a hand wrapped itself around your mouth and another grabbed you by the throat, dragging you away from the light of the main road.

You struggled to breathe as the unfamiliar hand tightened its grip on your neck, your own hands quickly raising and digging your nails into their ice-cold skin in an attempt to pry the pain away. You felt yourself go rigid when a low voice spoke in your ear, “stop struggling.”

You allowed yourself a small smile, this was perfect. If you could get this man to believe you were weak, feeble even, then he’d be unsuspecting of you. With any luck, he’d let his guard down just enough, giving you the perfect opportunity to strike.

You let out a whimper, furrowing your quivering eyebrows and forming tears in your eyes. “Please don’t do this.” You hated how small you sounded, but it’s what you needed the man to hear in order for your plan to work.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end as you stilled automatically, your lip quivering ever so slightly under the stranger’s palm. You carefully dropped your hands to your sides, feeling for the blade that was secured tightly in your jacket, hidden from the outside world.

Despite having control of yourself, you were still aware of the distinct feeling of fear brewing up under your burning skin. No matter how many times you’d managed to slaughter yourself out of situations like this, there would always be a small chance that you would fail, and that thought made you sick.

“You’re a pretty thing, aren’t you?” The stranger turned you around so that you were facing him, a sick smile on his face as he gazed down at you, fangs visible and eyes darkening to a beautiful shade of red.

“Bet you’ll taste real sweet.” He dug his fingertips into the sides of your neck slightly before allowing his tongue to swipe over his lips. Had you not been moments away from your bitter end, you would’ve taken more time to admire his unnatural beauty. His cheekbones were sculpted, his silver scruffy hair framing his intricately carved face with a tender delicacy that you did not think someone of his kind deserved. His brows furrowed as he focused on a particular spot on the side of your neck, right by where his thumb was most likely bruising your tender skin.

“Please, don’t. Please stop, oh god,” you choked out.

He started lowering himself towards you, and you grabbed your weapon, ready to plunge the blade into anywhere you could reach from your disadvantaged position.

Suddenly, a voice called out harshly, cutting through the cool air and causing your attacker to faulter for a short moment, thus giving you the perfect opportunity to throw all your energy into shoving him off you, quickly pushing your knife into the spot just beneath his ribcage, drawing it back almost as quickly as it slides in; you couldn’t risk losing your best blade. He cried out in surprise, eyes growing darker and angrier than they had been before.

“Get away from her,” the new voice snarled. You could see him getting closer from your peripheral vision, but you didn’t dare take your eyes off the rage-filled creature a few mere feet in front of you, clutching at his side with one bloody hand.

“Fuck off, this one’s mine,” he growled, locking eyes with you.

“Like hell I am,” you said through gritted teeth, positioning yourself with your knife in a defensive hold, knees bent and ready to spring forward as and when you needed to.

Your grip on the handle of your knife was turning your knuckles a ghastly shade of white and you could feel bruises beginning to form on your throbbing neck, but you were too focused on trying to get out of this alive to care. The figure in front of you took a threatening step forward, hand no longer clutching his side. He wore a menacing smile on his face even still, despite having been stabbed and interrupted by a stranger who you still didn’t dare turn towards.

“I thought I told you to get the hell away from her,” the second man called out once more, this time sounding remarkably calm. Unnervingly so.

“And I thought I told you she was mine?” The vampire before you allowed himself to snap his neck towards the other in anger, his eyes immediately widening in amusement at what he saw, lips curving upwards as he let out a snicker.

“Oh please, give up kid.” He spoke patronisingly. This piqued your curiosity and you risked a glance to the side to see what he was laughing at. You caught a glimpse of a mop of dark hair that seemed to melt into the sky, his stance seeming somewhat familiar to you, but you didn’t have the time to figure out where you knew it from.

You were pulled back into reality when you felt a pair of hands seize you again harshly, pushing you up against the wall. You felt the faint outline of some sharp fangs touching the surface of the skin, piercing it briefly before he was ripped away from you. Before he could draw even a drop of blood. You allowed yourself a half-second to focus your thoughts. The two were circling eachother like wolves a few feet from you, hunched over. You noticed two sets of red, gleaming eyes. Two vampires, ready to fight to the death just to have a tase of your crimson blood.

“Move.” You said to the one who had pulled your attacker off you. You’d deal with him later. He looked at you through angry, hooded eyes. He didn’t seem like he planned on listening to a thing you said, so you opted for pushing past him instead.

It all happened so quickly, although time felt like it slowed as you jumped into the air, reaching for the stake strapped securely against the skin under your shirt with your free hand. A tangle of limbs and hands, stumbling and scratching and pain before your opponent crumpled to the floor with a gaping, bloody hole through his chest. You pulled back, weapon in your trembling hand. Your vision was tunnelled and your hearing somewhat cloudy and ringing as a result of the adrenaline coursing through your entire being at one hundred miles per hour. You were panting as you watched his lifeless body turn a pale grey before he disintegrated, leaving an ashy pile of death where his body had been.

You touched your fingertips to your cheek, pulling them back to see blood dripping down to your knuckles. You’d have to deal with your scratched-up form when you eventually got back home. You turned back around to see the other vampire still standing there wearing an entirely unreadable expression. You immediately moved yourself to be in a defensive position, fully expecting him to fill his eyes with the fire in his soul and dive straight for you. When he didn’t move or even speak for a few seconds, you stepped closer to him, knife in one hand and stake in the other. Your hair was falling into your eyes and you could feel blood running from your cheek to your lips to your chin. You wiped at the back of your face with the back of your sleeve. You imagined yourself, you probably looked absolutely feral with your hair out of place, tears in your clothes and blood from yourself and one other smearing along the surface of your bruised skin and your ruined jacket.

“Woah, woah.” He backed up when you stepped closer threateningly, panicked eyes piercing right through you.

His back hit the brick wall of the alley you’d been dragged into, and he had the audacity to look frightened for a mere millisecond before he corrected himself and went back to holding an unreadable expression. You drove your hand forwards, letting out a noise of frustration when he caught your wrist with little to no effort in one of his larger hands. You did the same with the other hand since you were holding a weapon in each, but it was to no avail, he caught that one too.

“Why are you trying to kill me? I’m trying to help you!” He sounded genuinely surprised and slightly confused.

“We both know that’s a lie.” Your eyes locked onto his challengingly, you could hardly believe this guy.

“Seriously! I would never-.” He let out a groan of pain, not having noticed you drawing your blade back before driving it into his arm. He shifted away from you.

“Fuck, what is wrong with you?” He tossed the knife from his wound onto the floor a few feet away, clutching his arm with the opposite hand and hissing as he drew it back to reveal his palm, now sticky with blood.

“What’s wrong with me!? You’re the one who drinks human blood to stay alive!” You seethed, eyes wide and alert as you stared at him.

“I’m not drinking yours.”

“That’s because I’m not letting you.”

“I’m not trying to hurt you. Stop looking at me like that.” He sounded exasperated and you almost laughed. You’d never met a vampire quite like this before. Usually they were straight to the point; upfront about their intentions to kill you after they’d finished consuming every last drop of your sweet, sweet blood. But not this one, no, he seemed so dead set on earning your trust and getting you to drop your guard just for long enough.

You allowed yourself a moment to take him in, since he didn’t seem to be in any particular rush, you figured you might as well take your time too. His unkempt raven hair was slightly parted in the middle, falling over his eyebrows and kissing the tops of his cheekbones. His doe-shaped eyes had calmed down, now a deep, warm brown rather than the intense red they had been earlier. His skin was pale, lifeless, you supposed. Literally. His form seemed strong but not built in the way that some were, if you didn’t know any better you could have easily mistaken him for a university student.

He took a cautious step towards you and you felt your cheeks warm a little at the thought of him noticing your staring. You stood your ground, not wanting him to think you were weak or giving up your fight.

“If you take one step closer, I’ll kill you,” you said as coldly as you could muster.

“I believe you, but please don’t.” He was still clutching at his injured arm with a hand. He was currently at a disadvantage, if you could just use this to your advantage, if you could somehow get close enough to just-

He disappeared before your eyes and you whipped your head around just in time to witness him snatching the stake from your grip. He shifted again so that he was slightly further back from you, holding your stake behind his back and tilting his head to the side mockingly.

“You know, for someone who supposedly knows what they’re doing, you seem remarkably off-balance.” He dared a smirk, now and inspecting the wooden weapon in his hands.

“You-”

“These things are deadly, you know. I really thought you might kill me a moment ago,” he chuckled.

“It would be my pleasure.” You didn’t see the humour in this the way that he seemed to. You were no longer scared, however, mostly frustrated.

You took a small step towards him, determined to retrieve your stolen weapon, but acutely aware that you were now completely un-armed. This wasn’t a situation you’d ever been in before so you were unsure of how you should proceed. You couldn’t read his next move whatsoever, his expression told you nothing useful other than that he was clearly enjoying this.

He looked right at you, his expression suddenly serious, his harsh gaze sending chills down your spine, “go home, y/n.”

You widened your eyes. How did he know your name? You don’t recall saying it aloud even once and the deceased vampire certainly hadn’t known it.

“How’d you know my name?” You voiced with a slight tremor, it was subtle but definitely noticeable, and you cursed yourself for allowing yourself to feel scared.

He was walking away from you now, his ebony clad body becoming harder and harder to decipher as he disappeared into darkness. He didn’t answer your question, but he did leave your knife on the floor where he had tossed it earlier. You hurriedly grabbed the weapon, checking your surroundings once more to see if he had come back (he hadn’t), before running home and locking your apartment door as soon as you slammed it closed.

You slept with a blade under your pillow that night.

You didn’t leave your house for the next two days, no trips to get food, no visits from friends, no nightly vampire-watch. Nothing. Partially because you didn’t want to risk anybody asking any questions about the bruises on your neck and the cuts on your skin, but you couldn’t deny the genuine fear that was keeping you at home. You weren’t really sure why you were so affected by the events that happened a couple of nights prior. You’d like to consider yourself a fairly experienced and extremely competent hunter. You’d never left a vampire you came into contact with alive. Alive, if that’s even what you could call them. And now one of them knew your name, what did that mean? Did he know where you lived? Had he been watching you like you were his prey?

An unexpected knock at your door snapped you out of the thoughts spinning around in your head. It wasn’t late, but it was dark out. You furrowed your brows as you wondered who could be dropping by at this time. You had a few close friends; Yuta, Jungwoo and Taeyong being the ones most likely to pay you a visit, although they usually made a point of shooting you a warning text first, just in case you weren’t around. Yuta hunted vampires like you did, that’s how you met him. He had a pretty face and a fiery personality to match your own. The two of you clicked instantly, bonding over anything and everything you could think to talk about. He soon introduced you to Jungwoo, a soft boy with long legs and a heart of gold, and Taeyong, a striking guy with sharp features and an adorable laugh. The two latter boys assisted Yuta occasionally when he was dealing with a particularly tough vampire, but you preferred to strike alone, so you always rejected their offers to help. You couldn’t think why any of them would turn up at your door now, though.

You padded over to the door, feet clad in fluffy socks and glasses perched on your nose. You opened the door but were met with the sight of a brown paper bag with your name written on it in black marker. You looked both left and right in confusion, settling your gaze back on the brown bag at your feet when you didn’t see anyone at either end of the hallway.

You picked it up cautiously against your better judgement and scurried back inside quickly. The rational part of your brain was screaming at you to leave the bag outside and not lay a finger on it, but the curious part was itching to take a look, so that’s what you did. You sat down on the wooden floorboards in your living room, legs crossed and scissors in hand. You cut along the seal of the clear tape that was keeping the bag closed and hesitantly tipped its contents out in front of you. Your body stilled for a long moment, your breathing suddenly shallow and your throat dry. Your stake lay before you, still bloody, but yours, nevertheless. You shivered. The mysterious vampire who you were still tearing your hair out over had taken it with him if you remembered correctly. You were sure that your eyes hadn’t been deceiving you and that your memory wasn’t tricking you. Before you could control your own body, you found yourself at the closest window, looking out on the off chance that you would be able to see whoever had delivered the brown paper bag. You knew the chances were slim to none, but you looked anyway. It had to have been him. He somehow knew your name, so it should’ve been obvious that he knew where you lived.

You didn’t know what to make of it. Any of it. You were truly afraid, so why were you so curious about the raven-haired boy who let you live?

You managed to coax yourself outside after another day or so of hiding at your apartment. You felt pathetic, hiding away, you didn’t feel like yourself. It didn’t sit well with you, knowing that you’d let something so simple force you to feel emotions you didn’t want to feel. You usually felt a sort of thrill, a buzz of adrenaline. Not fear, never fear. And never interest. Vampires had always repulsed you, disgusted you. Everything that they stood for was wrong and you were here to make things right. You should’ve just killed him when you first had the chance, but you let him get under your skin, where he remained even still, apparently.

You’d somehow ended up asking to meet Yuta at your usual spot; an old bench that looked out over the river. You were sat with your legs crossed underneath you on the bench, your head tipped back as you enjoyed the way the cold breeze coming off the water skimmed over the skin of your throat and made you feel a little more alive. It was early evening, but the sun was still up, its golden rays shining through the trees on the bank on the opposite side of the river.

You used to come here to sit and wallow in your own thoughts after your brother died. You found yourself spending a lot of time on your own back then. Your parents were too busy trying to pick up their own pieces to look at you and the mess you had become. You suppose not a lot has changed since then; you don’t speak to them much since they’re still constantly wrapped up in themselves, and you still enjoy your own company for the most part, even if it was unintentionally forced upon you.

It became ‘your spot’ with Yuta on a late summers night not long after you’d started tracking vampires down. You were sat on the same bench with a bleeding shoulder where you’d been pierced deeply by your target’s fingernails. He’d sat with you and helped clean you up, all the while asking you how it had happened before telling you that he hunted vampires too. You’d stuck by eachother ever since.

You were brought out of your thoughts when a familiar hand ruffled your hair out of place and you moved your head to the side to see Yuta sitting down next to you; his body relaxed against the wood as he looked over at you with a small smile. His hair was a brilliant white that fell in wisps over his eyes and against his bronzed skin, a light pink spread across his nose and cheeks from the chill in the air.

“It’s been a while since we met here, something on your mind?”

Yuta had a way of always being able to tell when something was bothering you, and he always made a point of asking you about it but never pushing you to talk about it if you didn’t want to. He was a good friend in that regard, probably the best you’d ever had.

“Have you ever been knocked completely off-kilter by an encounter with a vampire?” You asked, not really sure what asking him would achieve but hoping for something to reassure you that your feelings over the past few days could be justified. You looked out across the water as you asked him, your mind half in the conversation and half clouded by something else.

The way you asked it had Yuta furrowing his brows as he thought about what to say to you.

“I mean sure, it’s a pretty scary thing, especially when you’re just starting out.” He breathed out, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands as he followed your gaze to where the soon-to-be-setting sun was reflecting on the water.

“I’m not just starting out, though,” you said absent minded-ly.

Yuta remained quiet for a moment, like he was unsure how he should proceed. His hands were fumbling with the sleeve-cuffs of his too-large hoodie but keeping them in place to hold his head up. It was a habit of his that you’d noticed he did when he was thinking or concentrating on something; it made him look soft and warm, despite the harsh interior you knew he possessed when needed.

“Y/n, you know it’s okay to be scared, right? That’s what makes you human-” he paused for a second, flitting his eyes towards you as he turned his head ever so slightly, “that’s the difference between them and us.”

You let out a quiet sigh. You did know that, of course you did. But feeling scared made you feel weak, and that’s the one thing you never wanted to feel again.

You dropped your head to your hands, trying to squeeze the unpleasant feeling out of your skull.

“I don’t know why it’s bothering me so much.” Your voice sounded muffled to your own ears as you spoke into the fabric of your jumper that was pressing its warmth onto your face.

Before Yuta arrived, you were in two-minds about telling him about exactly what had happened the other day, but now that he was a breath away, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to do it. A small part of you worried that perhaps he would be disappointed or even angry with you for letting the vampire get away relatively unscathed, just like you were disappointed and angry with yourself.

“You’ll get through this, just have faith in yourself,” he offered you a comforting pat on the shoulder.

Have faith in yourself. Have faith in your abilities. That’s what you needed to do.

The opportunity for you to prove your competency to yourself arose not even two days later. It was sometime after 10pm and you were on your way to the spot you’d spent most nights lurking before the incident. You rounded a corner, bringing the wall you took shelter behind into view. You made your footsteps lighter on instinct, bending your knees slightly to allow you to do so.

A crunching from behind you sent a familiar thrill running through you to the very tips of your fingers, gripping your wooden weapon with your dominant hand you allowed yourself a split-second to snap your head around to see what had made the sound. You turned your head back when you caught glimpse of a shady figure disappearing at the sight of you turning around. You felt the temperature drop around you as a flurry of dark colours and pale flesh took shape in the form of a sharp-fanged woman with red hair. She snarled at the sight of the weapon in your hand.

“How cute of you to try and defend yourself,” she called as she took a step in your direction.

You laughed, “I must say, nobody in your position has ever called me cute before.”

“Do not mock me, mortal.”

You pouted at her, agitating her some more. You couldn’t help yourself; the female vampires were always the easiest to rile up. And what’s the point of all this if you can’t have a little fun, right?

She lunged at you at great speed, but you were more agile and therefor ever so slightly quicker. You dodged under her arm and turned around. You were circling eachother.

“Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be,” she hissed, glowing eyes filled to the brim with a burning hatred.

You smirked at her agitation. “I could same the same to you, bloodsucker.”

“You’ll regret messing with me.” Her voice was low and biting, though you were barely even paying attention to what she was saying at this point.

Her fangs glistened as she ran her tongue over them, most likely in an attempt to try and frighten you. But you were now fully immersed in the headspace you were so used to. You found yourself feeling completely at ease and the memory of the vampire who had spared you and sent you into a downward spiral slipped easily to the back of your mind.

She darted forwards once more, but she was sloppy, and her body language gave away her movements before she’d even made them. You drove your stake through her chest. She made an unpleasant choking sound as she gasped for air, bloody eyes widening and razor-sharp fingernails grazing your skin before she was reduced to nothing more than a pile of dust.

You crouched down to pick up the weapon that now lay neatly on the ground before you, a sticky scarlet dripping from its tip as you raised it. You wiped it clean with an old cloth from your inside pocket, standing up tall once more as you did so. You slipped both the cloth and the stake back into your jacket once you were satisfied.

A slow clapping from a small distance in front of you drew your attention away from the now-clean, deadly piece of wood. A dark figure stood a few feet from you, leaning casually against the wall you usually stand by.

Despite the midnight-blue that painted the sky, the figure was instantly recognisable; it was the same man that claimed he was trying to help you a few nights ago. The same man who did help you, you supposed. You felt uneasy once more. Something about his very presence seemed to command your attention even when you wished it wouldn’t.

You had been weak last time. You had let him get under your skin and he hadn’t even tried particularly hard. Tonight would be different, you told yourself. Tonight, you would be strong.

Still on somewhat of a high from your recent kill, you stalked over to him, pulling your favourite knife out of your jacket and keeping a hand close to the stake you had just sheathed.

“You know, I’m pretty impressed, that was-” he started, eyes trained on yours.

You held the knife to his neck. Its sharp blade pressed tightly against his skin, enough to hurt but not enough to break the surface.

“Shut the hell up. Give me one reason not to kill you right here, right now.” You locked your eyes on him challengingly.

You could feel his shallow breaths on your cheek, and only then did you realise how close you were. Your body was pressed almost entirely on his, but you didn’t dare back down. You needed to stay in control.

“Why do you want to kill me in the first place?” He breathed out, speaking shallowly so as to not further irritate the knife against his windpipe.

“Your very existence is reason enough,” you spat against him, eyes holding whirlpools of anger and pain.

He was quiet for a long moment, as if he was considering what you’d said. His eyes darted between yours and you swore you could see hurt in them for a second, but it was gone in a flash as they glazed over once more. They were impossibly dark when they weren’t painted crimson, you noted. So dark that you felt like it would be easy to fall into them if the circumstances had been different.

“I really don’t want to hurt you.” He spoke eventually.

You hadn’t paid close attention to what his hands were doing when you strode up to him, but a slight movement at your side grabbed your attention and you swiftly glanced down. He was bringing both his hands up, but not to hurt you or lay a hand on you. He was raising them in some sort of surrender.

You furrowed your brows in question as you brought your eyes back to his. He placed his hands against the wall on either side of his head, vulnerable palms open and facing you.

“What are you-”

“I told you I’m not trying to start a fight,” he cut in. His words seemed genuine, and his eyes were filled with truth. Your temples felt dizzy with confusion.

“Why should I believe you?”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t, but I swear it’s the truth.”

Your knife had drawn the tiniest bead of blood as he spoke and you found yourself feeling bad for having cut him, even if only a little. You pulled the blade an inch, waiting to see if he would move. He didn’t. He stayed right where he was, hands up and gaze trained on yours. If he’d wanted to kill you or hurt you in any way, he would have by now. He’d had plenty of opportunities. And yet here you were, completely unharmed and just a breath away from a man who held the same sickly desire as the very ones you loathed.

You moved your weapon from his neck, still holding it tightly in one hand just in case it was needed. You took a small step backwards to put some space between the two of you.

“I don’t understand.” You spoke quietly, your eyes flitting between his and your breath shallow.

“I noticed you watching me,” he said softly, as if afraid to speak too loudly in fear of shattering the momentary truce between you.

You parted your lips to speak, but he silenced you by explaining further.

“You stood right here, night after night, yet you never so much as took a step closer. Are you afraid of me?” His voice was low and slightly raspy.

You didn’t make a noise of complaint when he lowered his aching arms from their position on either side of his head.

It made sense now. He had seemed familiar the night he’d tried to help you, but you were unable to figure out where you’d seen him since you’d never been that close to him before. Seeing him here, under the familiar, dull streetlamps illuminating the darkness that the clouded, late-night sky brought, you wondered why you hadn’t noticed before.

You pondered for a moment. Were you afraid?

You were intrigued. Something had held you back all those nights that you should’ve killed him, something. But what? Fear? No. You weren’t scared of him. You were close enough that you could see wisps of his breath as his heat reacted with the cool autumn air, close enough that you could reach over and touch your hand to his skin, close enough that you should be scared; but somehow, you weren’t.

You were more scared of yourself than you were of him. You were more terrified of how easily you’d let him get to you, how easily he could get under your skin again if he so desired.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of me, y/n,” he told you in a whisper.

Your eyes were blown wide and frantic. You felt so small all of a sudden as he looked down at you. You took a step back.

“I’m not.”

He let out a breath, his dark eyes matching yours. He hesitated before lifting his hand up to graze your cheekbone slowly, moving his fingers to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear, but you flinched away before he could do so.

“Seems you are a tad scared, little one,” he chuckled softly. He gestured between the two of you, “this position seems to be becoming a bit of a regular thing, perhaps you-”

“Stop it.” You snapped, hating the feeling of vulnerability that he seemed to put you under. Your cheeks felt hot, much to your horror.

“Stop what?” He frowned.

“Stop getting in my head.” You paused for a split-second to gauge his reaction. “Stop whatever it is you think you’re doing.”

The boy had the nerve to look taken aback.

“I’m not doing anything.” He spoke back to you, “but you feel it too, right?”

“What?”

“That’s why you haven’t really tried to hurt me, isn’t it? You know you could if you really wanted to. You’re strong enough.” His gaze was soft now, eyes trained on yours, but he still made sure to keep the distance you’d put between you.

“I don’t know why I-” The words fell silent from your mouth as he ran his tongue along his bottom lip. “I don’t- I’m not-” you stuttered out, mortified by your sudden inability to string a sentence together.

He took a hesitant step closer, leaving nowhere near enough space between your bodies, but still not touching you. His breath tickled your cheek and you found yourself unable to tear your eyes away from his.

“It’s okay, y/n,” he whispered.

“I don’t even know your name,” you choked out, and you cursed yourself internally for not being in control of your own voice.

“It’s Mark.”

You repeated his name quietly, a strange feeling brewing up inside of you. His dark locks were falling into his eyes and grazing the tops of his sharp cheekbones. He was attractive, painfully so, and you were having a hard time reminding yourself that he wasn’t human.

You ripped your gaze off him, kicking half-heartedly at the loose gravel underfoot as you pondered.

“Was it you who left the paper bag outside my door the other day?” You asked, although you already knew the answer, because who else could it have been?

He nodded, speaking out a quick “yeah” when he realised that you weren’t looking at him.

“How did you know where I lived? And how do you know my name?”

“I told you, I know you’ve been watching me,” he said, cocking his head to the side as though it were obvious, eyes following you as you looked back up at him.

“That doesn’t explain anything, Mark,” you spoke, putting a slight emphasis on his name as if that would make a difference to his answer.

“Well who’s to say I haven’t been making my own observations, y/n?” He frowned slightly, his deep voice mocking you lazily.

“So you’ve been stalking me?” You felt your normally steady hands shaking ever so slightly at the thought of him watching you when you thought you were alone.

“I was intrigued by you.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that. You could tell him it was creepy, you could tell him that you didn’t want to see him again and you could turn around and go back home and put this all to the back of your mind – but you would be lying through your clenched teeth. You wanted to slap yourself for feeling the same way he did. Every rational part of you was screaming that he was just trying to lure you in and entice you before drinking you dry, but one tiny part of you seemed to be shouting louder and telling you to believe him and trust him when he said he had no malicious intent.

And the startling truth of it all was that you were intrigued by him too.

“Cat got your tongue, little one?” He allowed himself a smirk upon seeing the heat rush to your already slightly rosy cheeks.

You scoffed and began backing away from him, muttering “I’ll see you around, Mark,” before turning on your heel and beginning the walk back to your apartment building.

You only managed to sleep for a couple of hours that night before a rapid series of knocks on your front door woke you. You sat up slowly, letting the bed covers fall away from your body gently as you rubbed your eyes awake with one hand. You slipped out of bed and tip-toed across the cold floorboards, fumbling your way silently out of your unlit room and towards the front door. Your door was chained so that it would only open a few inches when opened without unchaining it, and given the late hour, you decided it would be sensible to keep it that way. The panicked knocking started again just as you opened the door, barely giving you time to unlock the door before it was being pushed towards you, stopping as the chain reached its limit. You froze as you took in the figure through the cracked open door.

“Y/n.”

“What are you doing here?” You spoke with your slightly raspy, sleep-ridden voice as you stared wide-eyed at the boy you instantly recognised as Mark.

“Are you okay?” He sounded alert and slightly out of breath, the rise and fall of his chest noticeable under the black of his button-up shirt.

“Do you know what time it is, Mark?” A quick glance back at your clock told you that it was just past 3am. Your heartbeat had doubled in speed since seeing him on the other side of your door and you weren’t sure if it was from fear or some sick sort of excitement.

“Can you let me in?”

You tightened your grip on the side of the door, your fingers surely turning white from the pressure of your pressing on them. You pursed your lips as you looked at him in contemplation.

“Please, y/n. I’ll explain I promise, but this is serious.” And because of the sheer desperation in his voice, you nodded and slid the chain to the side and ushered him in, checking the corridor for any more unwanted visitors before closing and locking the door behind him.

He was standing in the middle of the room when you turned to face him, looking somewhat uncomfortable and unsure of what to do with himself now. You stood and looked at eachother and for a moment it felt like time stopped, like you were caught in an alluring trance for what definitely seemed longer than the five seconds that it really was.

You prised your gaze away from his and brushed past him to flick a lamp on, illuminating the dark space immediately and casting a warm glow onto his smooth, pale skin. You told him he could sit as you gestured to the sofa and asked him if he wanted anything to drink before remembering what he was, causing you to stutter out a quick “never mind.”

You sat at the opposite end of the sofa to keep as much space between you as possible, crossing your legs and leaning your back against the arm of the sofa so you could face him. He sat with his elbows resting on his knees, resting his left cheek on his hands as he looked over at you. You were suddenly very aware of your sleeping attire and all the skin the lightweight t-shirt and shorts wasn’t covering; you felt heat rise to your cheeks, something that seemed to happen far more around Mark than you wanted it to. You still felt weary of him and from the look in his eyes, he understood your hesitancy, however much he wished you wouldn’t feel that way.

“I’m sorry for barging in,” he offered.

“Nobody else has been here, right? Giving you trouble?” He continued when you remained silent after his apology. “You’re really okay?”

“No, nobody’s been here. I’m fine, rather tired though.” You quipped, hoping he’d take the hint that you’d been asleep and were irked at having been woken from your slumber.

“What’s this all about? Do you go knocking on strangers’ doors at this time often? A hobby of yours, perhaps?” You raised an eyebrow in his direction.

“There are people after you.”

You frowned at his grave tone. “People? Who?”

“Vampires. Friends of the one you slayed earlier who are angry and ready to kill.”

“I-”

“You can’t let anybody you don’t trust in here. Not a soul, do you understand?” He interrupted as he turned his body slightly to face you, no longer resting his head in his hand. He looked alert and incredibly serious, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looked entirely exhausted.

“And I’m supposed to trust you?” You would’ve laughed had he not looked so incredibly tense.

“Yes.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, turning your head away from him and staring at a slightly dusty patch of floor. The two of you lapsed into silence, and you weren’t sure if you found it comfortable or not. You could feel his eyes on you, watching you intently and trying to read the subtleties in your body language.

Your eyes widened and you inhaled sharply at the sudden but gentle movement of some loose hair being tucked behind your ear. You slowly moved until your eyes locked on Mark, who was now sat just inches away and looking at you with such tenderness in his gaze that you felt like you might break.

“I don’t know what it is about you, but I can’t seem to get enough.” His words were whispered and said with care. “I know it doesn’t make any sense because we don’t really know eachother, but it’s like there’s this constant pull and I can’t stop it.” Both hands were now cupping your jaw delicately, and you couldn’t resist moving one of your own to rest on his as he touched his forehead to yours. “I can’t help but want to keep you safe.”

You felt hot all over and lacking any control over your own body, because this was so, so wrong, but what he was saying somehow made some sort of sense to you. Because you felt it too, no matter how much you hated it, no matter how much you wished you could hate him.

Your eyes fluttered closed at his proximity as he glanced down to your lips, before lifting your chin and bringing his lips to yours for a split second. He had half expected you to slap him or push him away at the very least, but when you did neither he pushed forward once more and kissed you again.

His kisses were slow and his touch soft as his thumbs gently stroked along your cheeks. He parted his lips on yours, bringing your top lip between his own and swiping his tongue across subtly, encouraging you to let him in. You couldn’t resist him. He felt so cold as his skin pressed up against you, yet so painfully right that you couldn’t will yourself to stop him as he licked into your mouth with a rich sort of passion. He tasted like the best kind of sin and he looked so devilishly handsome that you couldn’t even begin to think about how you’d got yourself into such a situation.

He moved his hands down to grip at your waist, tracing along the subtle curves of your body as he did so and eliciting a barely-there whine from you. He pulled you closer still, leaning his back against the upright of the sofa and dragging you onto his lap in an effort to make you both more comfortable. You had one arm wrapped around the back of his neck while the other held the cup of his jaw as he continued to place long, messily drawn-out kisses onto your newly swollen lips. Your thighs were parted on top of him and you could feel him slowly guiding your hips down onto the bump that was beginning to form beneath you. He let out a small groan from the back of his throat at the sudden friction he was feeling, and you swallowed it with another open-mouthed kiss before pulling back slightly and looking at him through your heavily lidded eyes. You were both out of breath and staring at eachother with heated gazes, entirely unsure of what had just happened, what was currently happening, and yet neither of you moving to pull back further. You traced the outline of his plump lips with your thumb, pushing the skin up slightly and furrowing your brows when you saw the pointed tip of one of his fangs.

“I don’t understand how this- I-,” you stopped yourself, not even sure if what you were about to say made any sort of sense.

“How it feels so right?” You nodded, moving your gaze to the side. You could barely even look at him, you felt so ashamed of yourself for letting him draw you in.

“Me neither. I’m sorry, I wish things were different,” his voice was quiet. He tipped his head forward so that it was resting just above your chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly and engulfing you in an affectionate hug. You hummed in response, whispering a soft me too before burying your face in his neck and holding him against you firmly.

He stayed with you that night, kissing you some more before carrying you back to your bedroom and pulling you against him once you were in the comfort of your own bed. You fell asleep with his arms wrapped around you and your head pressed against his cold, silent chest.

Mark was gone by the time you woke the next morning, leaving barely a trace save for the messily written note he’d left on the kitchen counter.

Stay put today, I’ll visit you tonight – M

You spent your day doing all the things you’d neglected over the past few weeks; you picked up the novel that had been sat, unread, on your bedside table for far too long, and you listened to some old records while doing work around the house. It went by rather quickly really as you busied yourself with one thing after another.

True to his word, Mark showed up at your house sometime after 10pm. You opened the door and your face immediately dropped at how gaunt his face seemed compared to just last night, not to mention the small, slightly bloody scratches that you could see littering one side of his neck alongside a freshly formed bruise.

“Wha- What happened?” You stuttered out, concern evident in your voice.

“It doesn’t matter. Can I come in?” You let him in, leading him to your room this time rather than the living room.

You sat him on the middle of your bed and placed yourself between his legs so you could inspect his injuries. You held his face with both your hands and tilted him so you could see properly, it wasn’t anything serious but that didn’t stop you from wondering why he wasn’t healing.

“Will you tell me what happened?” He shook his head dismissively, looking to the side and avoiding your eyes.

“It was just a couple of guys, I managed to get away.” He didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, it was something he was used to dealing with by now.

“Slayers? Were they after you?” You asked as you stroked your thumb along his cheek softly, tenderly.

He let out a small chuckle, taking both of your hands in his and lowering them from his face until they were resting between you. He lay back on your bed until his head hit the pillow, groaning at the comfort of it.

“You were trying to kill me too until last night, miss y/n, I trust you haven’t forgotten?” He was smiling and he let his eyes flutter shut as he placed his arms behind his head. He looked so handsome lying there, so normal, so human.

You allowed yourself a small smile, though it soon fell to a frown once more when you looked at his face.

“Why do you look so-” you paused, unsure of what word to use. “-sick? I suppose pale isn’t the right term since, well, you know. You look unwell, though.” You felt a little awkward as you sat on the bed staring down at Marks resting figure, should you lie with him? Stay where you were?

“It’s nothing to worry about.” Was all he offered you, his eyes remaining closed.

You opted for lying down next to him, hoping that at least offering some kind of physical comfort might make him feel better. Your heart sank slightly when he made no effort to pull you closer. You mentally scolded yourself for caring so much; as he’d reminded you, you’d wanted him dead until not long ago. How could you have become so attached so quickly?

The two of you went through a similar routine for the next few days; you stayed in unless you needed to get food, and he would knock on your door at some time in the night, the time differing slightly each night. He would come in looking tired and a little worse each day, almost always immediately moving to your room to take comfort in the warmth of your bed. You would crawl in beside him, some nights staying on different sides of the bed, and some he would cradle you in his arms and you’d fall asleep like that. He was always gone when you woke up.

You didn’t do a lot of talking, or rather Mark didn’t seem to want to do a lot of talking. You wondered several times if you’d said something to upset him in some way, but you figured if that was the case, he wouldn’t bother coming to yours night after night as he did. Perhaps he was just a more physical being, finding more warmth in actions than in words. But then why did it seem like he was keeping some kind of distance between you?

By the fifth night, you’d grown tired of the routine you’d fallen into. You turned in his hold so that you were facing him, letting your eyes drag over his peaceful looking face as he lay with his eyes closed. You whispered his name, touching him gently on his shoulder until he opened his eyes. Now that he was looking at you expectantly, you weren’t really sure what you should say. Your eyes flitted between his as you tried to think of something, anything to break the tension.

You hesitated for a moment, before leaning into him, closing your eyes and placing your lips on his. It started off slow, and you could tell he was a little taken aback by your sudden urge to kiss him, but he was quick to open his mouth and slip his tongue past your lips, groaning into you when he felt you reciprocate.

“Shit y/n,” he said breathily.

This is the most you’d had from him since the first night he’d kissed you, and you couldn’t help but feel warm inside at the feeling of his hands on you, his lips on you. He nudged you onto your back, hovering his body over you with one hand by your head and the other rubbing comforting circles on the bare flesh of your stomach where your shirt had ridden up. You kissed until you were both panting heavily, until your lips were bruised, and his hair was roughed-up from your fingers running through it.

He pulled back, tugging at your bottom lip as he did so, barely even pausing for breath before he was trailing sloppy kisses from your jaw to your neck. You let out a quiet moan at the intimate feeling, curling your legs around his own as he lay between them. You found yourself craving more from him, you were becoming addicted no matter how much you wished you weren’t. It was something you couldn’t seem to control, and you were used to always being in control of your emotions. But Mark was different. He was so hard to resist, so tempting.

You were brought out of your thoughts by a sharp nip to your neck, followed by a peck to the same spot, and then another nip, harsher than the first. You felt your stomach sink as dread burned its way up your throat.

“Mark.” You warned, placing your hands on his chest and trying to push him away from your neck.

“Mark, stop!” He lifted his head suddenly, eyes glowing before he disappeared in a flash and reappeared at the other side of your room.

“What the fuck was that?” You growled, collecting yourself and standing to the side of the bed in a defensive stance.

“I’m so sorry.” His eyes had returned to a normal colour, but they were blown wide and he had the nerve to look as shocked as you felt.

“Fuck, this was a bad idea.” He looked right at you before turning his head in shame. “I should’ve known this would happen.” He was speaking under his breath, but you could still make most of it out.

You looked down at your hands, which were shaking ever so slightly. He could’ve bitten you. This is why you didn’t ever let your guard down. You should never have been so foolish to truly believe he wasn’t like the others.

When you looked back to where Mark was, you were met by the sight of him with his head in his hands and his elbows braced against his knees as he sat against the wall.

“I thought you didn’t want to hurt me?” You snapped, immediately reverting back to the cold demeanour you were so used to, the one that you never should’ve dropped for him.

“I don’t want to hurt you, y/n.” He raised his voice in frustration, though you didn’t know if he was frustrated with you, or with himself.

“Then why did you-”

“I thought I could control it,” he was tugging on the ends of his hair, a nervous habit perhaps. “The urges, I mean.”

“Urges?” You questioned.

“You have no idea how hard it is trying to suppress them when I’m around you, y/n. I can hear the blood as it flows through your veins, I can practically feel your heart every time it beats. And God, your scent is utterly divine.” He stood up abruptly to make his way over to you, stopping when he saw your reaction.

You had backed yourself to the nearest wall, and you had no way of actually defending yourself. If he wanted to, he could overpower you right now. But something about the cautious steps he took told you that he wouldn’t. He didn’t want you to lash out at him, he didn’t want to truly lose you when he’d only just found you.

You looked closely at his expression. He looked pained, and still scarily gaunt. “What’s wrong with you?” You whispered.

He remained silent, just staring at you with an unreadable emotion in his deep eyes.

Your eyes shot up to his when you came to a sudden realisation. “Have you not been feeding? Is that what this is?”

He froze for a second and took a shallow step back, and then another. He looked nauseous, like he might be sick any minute. You’d hit the nail on the head, it would seem.

“Answer me, Mark.” Your voice was stern as you made your way towards him, you didn’t want him to back away from this and take the easy way out.

“Don’t come any closer, please.” He pleaded, his pupils dilated and his eyes hungry. You ignored him and cradled his face in your hands anyway, watching intently as his eyes returned to a devilish shade of crimson.

“You either fight it or you let me help you.” You instructed him. As much as you wished you could just rid your hands of him like he was any other vampire, you were much too invested now. You cared about him, and you wanted to help him. That had to count for something.

“You’re torturing me here,” his hands gripped at your wrists and he closed his eyes tightly as a combination of both agony and bliss soared through him. “Y/n, please, this is killing me.” He sounded strained, and you really felt bad for him, but he had to pull through this.

He pressed his forehead against yours and his unblinking, scarlet eyes were filled with a lust you’d not seen from him before, his breathing heavy and uneven. You stood like that for Lord knows how long, staring at eachother. You were feeling too many emotions at once, and you could tell that he was experiencing the same from the subtleties in his body language.

“I can’t do this.” He shifted away from you once more at an inhuman speed.

You stood for a moment longer before making up your mind and walking to the kitchen, finding a small, sharp knife and carrying it back through to where Mark was. Never in your mortal life did you think you’d find yourself in such a position, and truthfully you were slightly repulsed by what you were about to do, but for the sake of the raven haired boy you’d come to care for so quickly, you’d do it. He looked at the knife in your hand and began backing away, his expression turning to one of confusion when, instead of lunging at him, you brought the knife to your own palm and made a small cut in the centre, letting the blood begin to pool there.

“No. Stop it.” His tone was firm, but your mind was already made up.

“It’s yours. Take it.”

“Y/n, I’m serious. Don’t.” He inhaled the metallic scent from across the room, eyes rolling back slightly as the heavenly stench hit him. Nevertheless, his tone remained the same.

“As am I.” You stood before him, holding your open palm towards him.

He gulped, and you noticed that his hands were trembling. He looked at you one last time to make sure you weren’t going to try and kill him with the knife you were still holding in your opposite hand, before bringing your blood to his lips. He lapped up each and every drop like he’d never been given something so delightful before, and you had to look away. No matter how much adoration you seemed to hold for the boy, you still hated what he was. He groaned in contentment, squeezing your hand to encourage more blood from the slice you’d made for him.

You pulled away from him when you thought he’d had enough, and you were beginning to feel ever so slightly lightheaded. He wiped your blood from his lips with the back of his hand. You looked into his eyes, expecting him to say something or perhaps thank you at the very least, but the sight you were met with was not a pretty one. His eyes were reverting back to their normal colour, but he looked furious.

“You should not have let me do that. Do you have any idea what the fuck you just did?” He raised his voice as he spoke, looking at you like a bull who’d just seen red.

“It helped didn’t it? You feel better now, don’t you?” You asked.

“I could’ve killed you, y/n.” You flinched as he loomed over you. “I need to leave.”

“Wait! Mark, no. We need to talk this out.” You reasoned. Why was he reacting like this after you’d helped him liked that? You’d done the right thing, hadn’t you? You’d stopped him from falling even more ill.

“Not now. I can’t be near you right now.” He was hurrying through your house to get back to the front door, and you couldn’t deny the hurt that panged painfully in your chest as he spoke.

“Mark just-”

“I said I need to fucking leave!” He yelled before opening the door and storming out. You stopped momentarily at his outburst, genuinely shocked at his reaction. You had to go after him. If you left this unresolved right now then you might never see him again, and you weren’t sure how you’d cope if it came to that. You followed him out the door, not bothering to lock it behind you, and slipped into a fast jog as you made your way down the stairs of your building to try and catch up with him.

You turned one corner and then another until you saw Yuta standing a few feet from Mark, who had his back to you.

“Yuta! Don’t hurt him! He’s not like the others.” You shouted over to him swiftly, slightly out of breath from running after Mark.

He didn’t turn at the sound of your voice. In fact, neither of them moved at all. Yuta was staring at you wide-eyed over Marks shoulder, his empty hands trembling at his sides.

“Yuta? Mark?” You called, continuing on towards them.

“What’s going-” you stopped yourself short when you got to them, feeling your stomach drop and your knees grow weak. Because stood before you was Mark, clutching at his chest. Or rather, clutching at the bloody stake which was embedded there.

“No no no no no,” your bottom lip wobbled almost immediately as you took in the sight. “What have you done?” You whispered to no one in particular, though both the boys seemed to hear you.

Marks legs crumpled and you gripped his arms to try and lower him to the ground more gracefully, falling to the floor with him. You pushed the hair off his forehead and cupped his cheek with one hand, your other immediately moving to apply pressure to the wound without taking the stake out for fear of that making matters worse.

“Y/n,” he choked out, a little blood falling from his lips as he spoke.

“I’m here. I’m here, baby” You cooed, tears stinging your eyes as they threatened to fall. He couldn’t leave you like this, not after everything that had happened. “Yuta, do something!” You pleaded, too scared to let your eyes leave the beautiful boy who was bleeding out on the floor.

“It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay.” You promised him, though it wasn’t really Mark you were trying to reassure.

“Y/n, thank you,” he sounded pained as he spoke, coughing up a little more blood as you offered him comfort through whispered words and soft touches. “And I’m sorry.”

Your tears mixed with his as they fell uncontrollably from your eyes. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” you hushed him softly, “I’m the one who should be saying that.” You voiced through your salty tears.

It didn’t take long after that. It all happened too quickly, really. Mark, the vampire who had managed to prise his way into your icy heart, the boy who had made you feel more in the past week than you’d felt in years; ripped from your grasp at the hands of one of your best friends.

Within mere seconds he was reduced to nothing more than a shadow of dust once he took his last breath, and your chest hurt in a way you hadn’t experienced since you were a girl, since your brother died.

“I’m sorry I never got to tell you how much I like you.” You whispered.

#neowritingsnet #unravel #mark lee #vampire!mark lee #vampire! mark #vampire au #halloween au #mark lee angst #mark angst #mark lee x reader #mark x reader #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #nct u #nct angst #mark lee fic #mark fic

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songbirdsingingthings · 4 years

Text

Winter Dance - Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS, THEY BELONG TO KOHEI HORIKOSHI

DAY TEN OF 25 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS - 25 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS MASTERLIST - MAIN MASTERLIST

Starlight seemed to twinkle at every angle you gazed. It was incredible, really, how the staff was able to transform the cafeteria. Gone were the long lunch tables and potted plants - silk draped circle stands lined the perimeter and in the center was open for dancing.

“Wow, isn’t this incredible!” Mina gushed, clutching onto your arm. You laughed and nodded, still too much in awe to form words. However, the girl next to you was full of them. As energetic as ever, the pink haired girl flitted around, greeting everyone in her vicinity and you giving them a nod and a smile. You were glad to have Mina as a friend - she was able to break you out of your shell the moment she met you, giving you the confidence to be unapologetically yourself in all situations you were in. She also introduced you to Katsuki Bakugou. He couldn’t have been more different than most of the boys you usually pined after - a stubborn guy with even more stubborn hair and a person who seemed to always wear an annoyed expression. Something about him, however, just seemed to take hold of your heart and not let it budge.

“Hey Y/N! You look great!” A friendly voice stirred you from your thoughts. Kirishima was giving you a wide toothy grin. You beamed back at him and swished your dress a little, watching the material fold and fall over itself.

“Thanks Kiri - you as well! I like the tie.” You respond. He did look good, it was true - Mina thoroughly confirmed that notion by giving him a kiss on the cheek. They matched perfectly - your best friend was wearing a beautiful strapless dress that was light blue in color and made of tulle. Kirishima, ever the gentleman, matched his tie color and even the pattern, both of them having little flowers dotted all over. The three of you talked for a little while - small comments about the gorgeous decorations, fun anecdotes, and what they were planning on doing for Christmas. Just as your little group was about to grab some punch, a slow and sweet melody flooded the speakers, prompting couples to take to the middle of the dancefloor. You saw Mina and Kirishima look to each other and back at you, giving you an apologetic look. You gave them a silly look and pushed their backs toward the dance floor.

“You two didn’t come here to just hang out with me, go dance! I know you’ve been waiting all night.” You grin. They return your smile and Kirishima takes Mina’s hand, twirling her around once before they settle into a swaying rhythm. You watch them for a few minutes before you feel a sinking feeling in your heart. Yes, you’ve been talking to your friends all night, but you’ve also been keeping an eye out for the blonde-haired hero in training your heart was set on. Your vantage point finally allowed you to survey the entire room which proved the discouraging thought that lingered in your mind. He didn’t show up, you thought. Sighing you glance to one of the doors. This conjured a mental battle in your head. Do you leave? Is it even worth it? As much as you wanted to stay and have a good time, all you had to do was take a look at the center of the dance floor to make up your mind. Seeing happy couples spin, dance, and laugh made your heart ache - this wasn’t something that would be happening tonight.

“I just need some air,” you mumble, weaving through bystanders near the wall. You didn’t realize how stuffy it was in that room - you guessed all of those people plus dancing would fill the room’s atmosphere.

The large windows were something that had drawn you to UA. While it wasn’t the most practical thing to think of when applying to high school, you thought it was a nice touch. You could practically see for miles through them. Rubbing away the condensation, you saw the city in the distance. The colored lights from cars and skyscrapers lit up its surroundings, casting a wondrous glow to the streets and apartment buildings. Just beyond the campus you could spot the cherry blossoms covered in snow - the light pink blossoms blanketed by the heavy layer of white. And up close were the detailed patterns of the paths and foliage that accented UA so well. You could even make out the colors of the flowers. One blue, those two a light yellow, one red and- Bakugou? You rubbed your eyes to see that, yes, the blonde was really outside in the cold wearing a suit and tie. Without thinking, you ran down the steps to the door that opened up right next to him. With a shove, the door creaks and a rush of wind blows by you. Katsuki jumped a bit in surprise, his eyes widening as he saw you.

“What are you doing here?” He inquires, eyebrows narrowing. You brush a stray piece of hair away from your face and shoot him a confused look.

“I saw you from the window?” You said, pointing up to the glass pane. “I saw you out here and was wondering what you were up to.” He rolls his eyes and kicks some snow with his polished black dress shoe.

“No, seriously, what are you doing here.” He says flatly. “Why aren’t you at the dance thing.” He gestures to your floor length dress, the end of which was currently getting damp by the snow.

“I needed some air,” you say quickly, remembering that technically he was the reason you stepped out in the first place. “What about you?” Katsuki scoffs and tugs on the collar of his shirt.

“Like I’d go to a dance - they’re idiotic.” You frown at his wording but speak up anyways.

“Well, you’re certainly dressed for one - unless this is your usual Saturday night attire?” You ask, motioning to his suit and slacks. They even looked newly ironed. Realizing that you caught him, you grinned and stepped closer to him. “You can tell me Bakugou, you know I’m not one to judge.” He sighs and turns his back to you. Thinking that he was just going to ignore you, you exhale sadly and turn back towards the door, ready to go back into the warm building. However his voice, soft as velvet, found you.

“I dunno how to dance.” Stopping in your tracks, you twisted around to look at him, your dress swishing with you. “How was I supposed to ask you to dance if I can’t do it properly, dammit?” He confesses. It was as if Cupid himself had notched his arrow and aimed perfectly for the square in your back. You were ready to squeal and jump, but what Bakugou needed right now wasn’t you being giddy about his confession. He needed you to take charge of the situation.

“We can do it here.” You suggest, grabbing his hand. He finally turns back to face you, some red flashing on his cheeks. You knew if you commented on it he would blame it on the nippy weather, so you let it slide.

“In the snow? Are you serious?” He says, almost laughing at your suggestion. You simply nod, guiding one of his hands to your waist and the other into yours. You settle your right hand onto his shoulder and smile.

“Yeah, in the snow. Besides, the stars out here,” you say, looking up to the sky, “are much more realistic than the ones in there.” He nods stiffly and waits for you to make the first move. Stepping forward with your right foot he steps back. You lead him through a simple box step, and for someone who didn’t know how to dance, he caught on perfectly. Like everything that challenged him in life, he grew more confident in his motions. He surprised you with spins every now and again, always earning a laugh. Flurries began to fall as you danced but neither of you seemed to care.

“Bakugou,” You say softly as he spins you again.

“Katsuki,” he corrects, earning a shy smile from you.

“Katsuki,” you laugh, “the reason why I wasn’t at the dance and why I got some air was because you weren’t there.” The boy in front of your smirks and then dips you, your weight now fully supported by him. No words came from his lips, instead, they met your own. They’re softer than you would’ve imagined. It lasted for only a couple seconds but you couldn’t complain - it was perfect. No more words were spoken between you that night - you just danced and danced, your head now resting on his shoulders. Even when the event indoors came to an end you didn’t stop. It was just you and Katsuki and the snow, swirling and spinning in unison... and Mina and Kirishima, watching from the windows, thankful that their two friends finally got together.

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sp00kworm · 4 years

Text

Red Lines (Revenant x GN Reader)

Pairing: Revenant x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: NSFW content

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Part 2 to the SILENCE series

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The Prowler in your bar was suddenly talk of the city and a few scientist folk came to catch a glimpse of the animal which was very close to extinction. They were very different from their ancient ancestors, more vibrant in colour and smaller in many cases to escape from years of trapping. You wondered just how much smaller as you looked down at Demonio who was curled around your legs, his blue skin hot against your feet. You held a tea in your hand, the fruity smell from it calming your nerves from the long day in the bar. Demonio had been harassed a little by a group of young men, and you had sent the Prowler upstairs out of the way after he spat poison and rushed to bite at them over the bar as they reached to take their drinks. Carefully you reached your fingers to Demonio’s head and gently eased them under his frill, scratching the soft skin underneath it as the holoscreen broadcast the final news reel for the evening. You sipped your drink as the headlines rolled across the bottom of the screen and the sports section started with the first part being dedicated to everyone’s favourite blood sport. The Apex Games were due to start again soon and so the sports reader started off with the highlights and victories of the past season, including some very torturous kills which had gained popularity from Revenant. A team wipe with an RE-45 seemed unlikely but at the end of the clip you cringed as he laughed and jammed the barrel to Caustic’s belly, pulling the trigger until blood drenched the floor of the small bunker. You were thankful there was such medicine and hologram technology that the injuries all of them received were not life threatening. A ‘marvel of modern medicine�� the reporters always claimed.

The window cracked open in the back of your lounge and Demonio was on his feet in an instant, growling and snarling as he rushed around the back of the couch, claws clacking against the floor. You turned around carefully, holding your hot drink steady as you watched Revenant’s long body slink through the frame and his burning orange eyes catch the Prowler’s. Demonio hissed, the orange frill around his neck standing tall as he jumped for the Simulacrum.

“Better do better than that next time.” Revenant growled as he snatched the pup from the juvenile from the air and turned him around before placing him back on the floor and looming over him, “You’re not big enough to scare me yet.”

You held your hand out for Demonio as he whimpered and crawled back to your lap, licking at his black teeth pathetically as you stroked over his smooth face and scratched under his frill again, “One day he’s going to hurt you…” You hummed before leaned back over the cushions, “Welcome home.” You cooed.

Revenant’s shoulder plates whirred and snapped upwards, letting his pistons and joints readjust in their sockets and snap back into place. He took a moment to digest your words, “I’m home.” He grumbled quietly before reaching for his scarf and tugging at the material and untucking the pin that held it together. It fell away in a swathe of red and you looked at the naked metal of his head.

Revenant took the scarf in his large hands and laid it carefully over the side in your kitchen, “Before you ask,” He snarked, “No, there’s no blood on it.” His back straightened defensively before he stalked over to where you were positioned on the sofa. The Simulacrum loomed for a moment before his voice box let out a great long sigh, his metal lips parted, and he settled into the cushions at your side, his cold metal hands reaching for your body. His body was cold as he pulled you against him, letting out another pained sigh as his flat, skeletal nose dipped to press into the space behind your ear. You let him drag you closer against him, used to the bite of spikes and cold metal as he pressed his head closer to your own, his sensors lighting with sensations he once thought he couldn’t have anymore.

“You smell like coffee.” He grumbled into your skin, his cold lips pressed to the hot skin of your neck, “You don’t drink coffee…” Suddenly, he was drawn backwards, jealousy lacing through his eyes as he dared to think of stupid, stupid scenarios. He couldn’t help himself as he growled.

“Don’t you even think I did anything like that!” You accused, holding his head between your two warm palms, stroking at the red markings under his eyes with your index fingers as you leaned to press one, gentle kiss to his different coloured lips, “I had a friend around earlier. She likes black coffee rather than alcohol.”

Slowly, his defensive posture melted away again, and his fingers uncurled from his fists, the alloy stretching into claws before they settled again as dull points at the tips of his fingers. They moved to stroke at your cheeks, finally feeling the heat beneath his fingers, enjoying the sensations that came with the real skin you had. Soft and squashy, full of blood and life.

He let out a rattle of a sigh, “I’m sorry.” He uttered against you again as he clutched at your waist, absorbing the heat like a greedy cat, “I’m still…”

“Learning. I know.” You whispered into his neck piece, running your fingers over the spikes on his shoulder plates. “What did you do today?” You asked quietly, trying not to break the peace that had settled over the both of you, “I had a message about a parcel?”

The Simulacrum’s eyes suddenly churned with delight, the orange blending into the black for a moment as he trawled through his data banks and found what he was looking for, “Oh…” He purred, “That was something important. Don’t worry your little head about it.” His fingers curled beneath your chin, “I’ve dealt with it.”

Nothing ever proved good when Revenant swapped to such a good mood. You looked up as his eyes turned back into a great orange glow rather than mostly black. His fingers stroked along your side in small, swirling spirals and you placed your hand over his own to stop his attempts to distract you.

“You technically bought something from my account.” You pried, “So, I’d like to know what.”

Revenant’s mouth parted with a small noise, “Heh, you want to know that badly, huh?” He teased his fingers in your grasp, before twisting his hand one hundred and eighty degrees and dragged your wrist up towards his face, pressing his metal lips to the back of your hand in a courtly gesture, “I don’t think you really want to know that badly…”

“Oh?” You leaned up to his face, pushing the Simulacrum’s thin waist back against the cushions, “Why wouldn’t I want to know what you bought in my name?” You reached towards his chin, “Though… Maybe you bought some goat guts or something for your next horror scene at the games…”

Revenant let out a raspy, long laugh, his chest rumbling a little before he looked you dead in the eyes, “Its not for nosey little skinsuits to find out about.” He teased as he reached his hand upwards and stroked his thumb over your bottom lip, “Not yet at least.” He hummed before he leaned upwards, his hand tugging you by the neck for a kiss.

You sank into the kiss, your eyes fluttering closed just as you watched Revenant’s orange optics swirl to black. You hummed against his metal lips as they slowly began to warm with the contact of your skin. Revenant chuckled against you and you froze before remembering he didn’t need to open his mouth to vocalise. The sound vibrated against your chest and you squeaked softly as his mouth opened for you willingly. You pushed on, kissing deeper, teasing your tongue against the copper plating in his mouth before drawing back with a start as something soft touched your tongue. Revenant laughed again, gripping you to his chest as you looked on in confusion. His metal jaws parted before he stuck out the black piece of silicon, modified to the inside of his mouth and attached to the back of his bottom jaw.

“No way.” You sat in his lap as you peered closer at the pointed appendage undulating before you. The pointed tip teased at your chin as you leaned in before Revenant tugged you back n for a kiss, dominating the movements as his cold tongue invaded your mouth the soft mix of materials teasing the roof of your mouth and stroking over the hot muscle of your own tongue before he pulled away. His fingers reached for the new modification in awe as he drew them away, covered in spit. He looked at them curiously, his optics shrinking and growing before his spine curled with a small shudder.

“Open your mouth real wide for me, baby.” Revenant purred up at you, sat back against the cushions with you firmly pinned in his lap. Feeling hot and embarrassed, you sat back and did as you were told, your mouth open wide enough for him as he took his two fingers and pushed them past your lips with a purr, “There’s a good skinsuit. My good little skinsuit. My little sweetheart.” He grumbled in a possessive tone as his other hand came up to cup your cheek, holding your bottom jaw as he watched the silver metal of his fingers disappear into your mouth. They weren’t as cold as earlier and you took to gently licking up and down the lengths with your tongue, enjoying the way Revenant’s eyes grew more and more orange, the sockets burning with light as he watched in delight as you took his two fingers to the next knuckle, laving the lengths in spit for him. With another purr, he carefully moved his fingers out before pushing them back into your wet mouth, enjoying the give in your lips before he pulled them free and held your face steady to look at the puffiness of your lips and the spit in the corners.

“I didn’t know you could be modded.” You gushed as his fingers slicked together and spread apart, the spit clinging between them both.

“I didn’t until a lovely engineer informed me.” Revenant purred as he pushed the spit covered fingers into the waistband of your trousers, “Well…I suppose I beat it out of them. But it was worth the blood in my joints.” He gave another cynical laugh as his cool fingers swept over the sensitive skin.

The Simulacrum took that moment to stick the black silicon out from between his jaws, “Do you want me to eat you out, baby?” He purred from his chest, the voice rattling before he laughed at your squirming, “I don’t need a tongue to make you cum anyway, but for the experience, I think it might be fun to save a picture of you like that to my memory banks for some poor fucker of a technician to find.” The filth spilled from his mouth far too easily, and you felt blood rush in your ears at the idea of some technician finding lewd recordings in Revenant’s data banks at a later date.

“Was this your big secret then? You…” His fingers teased at you again, drawing a broken moan from your mouth, interrupting your sentence, “You ordered a tongue on my account? That’s it?” It was a dangerous game winding up Revenant, but the rush of his fans was worth the provocation.

“Just a tongue, eh?” Revenant’s fingers escaped from your trousers, drawing circles under your shirt as he lifted the shirt over your stomach and pinned it beneath your chest so he could watch your skin twitch under his sharp fingertips. The claws dragged against your flesh, drawing small red lines before Revenant tapped them over your tummy rhythmically before he leaned close to your ear, his metal jaws closing around the lobe and tugging harshly, “Why don’t you find out?” He challenged with a growl.

“Find out?” You huffed before his cool fingers moved upwards and dragged over your nipples under your shirt, “Please don’t tell me you got tentacles or something…” You whined as Revenant’s claws stroked underneath your arms and then turned, ripping the back of your shirt open. The material split with a great tearing noise and you flinched as his cold hands cupped your shoulders, running down the length of your back before resting back at your waist, squeezing the flesh there. Your bottoms followed suit, left in a tattered mess of material.

“Would you like tentacles filling your little hole?” Revenant purred darkly as his fingers squeezed roughly again before he turned his optics down between your legs, “Or would you rather one of those plastic cocks open you up?” He grumbled in your skin.

Blood pounded in your ears as you looked the robot in the eyes, “How did you…”

“Find out about your little stash?” Revenant’s hand ran up the front of your stomach before the fingers curled around your neck, the sharp claws grazing over the soft flesh, “You have to sleep at night, baby. I don’t. I found them in the back of your wardrobe.” He laughed at your embarrassment.

“You better not have gotten something insane…” You whined at the Simulacrum.

Revenant’s fingers didn’t pause in their ministrations over your skin, tugging and grazing the soft flesh which he was so enamoured with. Your breathing became deeper, more and more heavy as the Simulacrum enjoyed the feeling of the warm, squashy skin underneath his fingers. He couldn’t feel a great deal of sensation but the feeling of the heat against his circuits was there. The robotics could recognise the pliant feel of flesh underneath his fingertips and he rumbled in enjoyment as you squirmed in his lap. Revenant’s metal hips whirred before he pressed them upwards and delighted in the second squirm he got out of you, as the metal ground between your legs.

“I’ll never get over how responsive skinsuits are.” Revenant’s chest rumbled with the words, but they were hushed, like he’d dialled down the volume for just you to hear, “I wish I could feel it a little more sometimes. I bet your skin tastes sweet.” He purred before he drew back with wonder in his eyes. You watched the new tongue dip low out from his bottom jaw, the tip bending upwards with a flick before he leaned forwards to graze the silicon over the skin of your neck. It didn’t satisfy him, and Revenant was quick to move lower, his tongue dipping over your collar bones before his tongue dragged between the dip and over your chest. He pressed the cold material to your nipple for a moment before humming again.

With a small chuckle, he drew back from your skin and closed his jaws, the red and white lips meeting as he swirled the silicon around inside his mouth and tasted the copper plates in his cheeks.

“If you were anyone else I would…” You paused as his eyes blew wide, the orange encompassing the entirety of his optics as he pressed his hands to the bottom of your back and pressed the two of you closer, enjoying the heat of you against his mechanical joints.

“You would do what? Call them a freak?” Revenant leaned up and snapped his jaws at your neck, “That’s what you are for wanting robot cock, isn’t it?” His claws sharpened as he curled the tips of his fingers into the flesh of your backside, slicing tiny cuts into the skin before he drew his hands back and watched the wet spots drip down the lengths of his fingers.

“I’m…” You moaned instead of speaking as Revenant tugged his loincloth free, revealing the privacy panel. Before there was nothing, just the protected joints and mechanics of his spinal column which motorized his legs. Now there was a new panel, curved and made from the same red metal of the rest of his body.

The panel fit seamlessly between his legs and you rushed to touch at the metal, moving your hands over the smooth metal before moving out towards the sides and finding the clips for the panel. Revenant chuckled as you found them, and you tried not to look too eager as you unfastened the plate to reveal another small part of machinery. The inside was flat until a small compartment opened and slowly, his metal and silicon dick emerged, engorged and ready for use instantly. A marvel of science. You had to wonder just why Revenant was so interested in the sexual side of your relationship.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” You asked as you dragged your eyes away from the black shined metal and silicon, “You’ve…” You sat back carefully on his legs, “You’ve not been interested in this before and I don’t want you to just be doing this for me.”

“Really?” Revenant groaned as his own hand rushed down to his cock, taking it in hand to give himself a few experimental tugs, “You’re asking me this now? Just as we’re getting to the good bit?” He growled, “God damn sensitive…” He grumbled in upset before he flipped you both on the couch, pinning your hands above your head so he could lean in as close as he wanted, “I want to feel a little bit again, baby. This might be just the thing.” The Simulacrum grumbled as he greedily took in the sight of you splayed underneath him, “I’m doing this for myself…” He caught himself, “Not just you.” He grunted as an afterthought, optics watching you for your reaction.

Caught off-guard, Revenant flinched as your hands carefully pulled themselves free from his grip. You reached up to his face and pulled the Simulacrum down to push another kiss against his cold lips, enjoying the way his joints whirred and relaxed before his tongue invaded your mouth, grazing your teeth before it fought with your own. It was a battle he could easily win, as he didn’t need to breathe. You pulled away, panting softly as you reached to try and feel his dick. He chuckled at your curious hands but twitched as your fingers plucked at a thin wire exposed at the top of the attachment. His shoulder plates snapped open with a flare before clicking back into place, only to snap and jolt again as your hands wrapped around his length, feeling the cool silicon and metal with the tips of your fingers.

“This has got to be some weird horny dream.” You babbled softly as you ran your hand up and down his cock, “Definitely.”

“Well, I’m about to make you cum in your sheets then.” Revenant grumbled as he fought with the stimulation of being touched in such a way. He could hardly remember the last time someone touched him, let alone gave him a hand job. Those memories were probably fried out of his coding a long time ago.

“Oh, I really don’t doubt it.” You breathed out in reply to the Simulacrum, looking at the dick one more time before you paused him again, “Won’t you need to get the…” Revenant grunted before stuffing his fingers in your mouth again, humming happily as you gazed down and watched lubricant drip out of the tip of his dick. He reached down and stroked the lubricant over his dick slowly, pinning your head back to make you watch him cover himself in lube.

“Self-lubricating.” He purred as you squirmed back against the cushions, “And there’s plenty enough for you as well.” The fingers left your mouth and you watched him gush lubricant over his own fingers before you were pinned roughly into the cushions, thighs spread, and hole exposed. The Simulacrum laughed again, a low, dirty noise, before he pressed his fingers against you and slowly, inched one inside, watching your face as the digit slid carefully inside, “Relax, I won’t cut you, baby.” He promised against your ear as his other hand pinned your hips, letting him set the pace as one finger pressed to the second knuckle inside of you. With a moan, you relaxed against the cushions and tried to fight Revenant down for a kiss. He refused to buckle and you whined, kissing at the blood red lines under his eyes.

“Please.” You whined as the finger pulled out and thrust back inside, “You’re…”

“You’re such a tease.” He mocked above you, “Maybe I should leave you like this, hm? All writhing and…” He glanced down, “Lubed up.”

You wanted to bite back at him somehow. Tugging at the wire over his cock you watched him melt a little again before you huffed, “I would finish myself off with or without you.”

Revenant growled as he pressed another finger into you, slick and cool against your hot insides, “You won’t be doing anything of the sort. Not if I’m around.” He growled against you, his hips pressing to your thigh as he continued to open you up, “You won’t get to cum until I say you can.”

“Oh yeah?” You challenged with a moan.

“You’re really testing my patience today.” Revenant grumbled before you were pinned by the neck, his sharp claws digging into the flesh of your neck before he decided to press them to the skin and draw patterns, “See where it gets you, I dare you.”

You felt the threat in your stomach but didn’t dare vocalise how much it actually excited you. Instead, you leaned up to kiss him again, making sure to relax as a third finger poked at your entrance, slippery with lubricant, perhaps too much.

“Now, where was I?” Revenant’s other hand left your neck in order to reach for your thighs, pinning them to the side as he considered the stretch of his fingers and reached to adjust himself, cupping the base of his dick in his hand.

You barely got a glimpse of it before the cool silicon and metal was pushing inside of you. Your head rushed back on reflex as it filled you, pushing bit by bit inside your hole as the Simulacrum shuddered and clicked above you, his mouth open as though he needed to pant and breathe through the tight clench around him.

“Fuck…” His voice blurred into static as he thrust further inside, the ribs of the silicon pressing against the sensitive nerves of your inside, “I’ve n-not…” His jaws snapped closed as he paused, sheathed inside of you, his voice box whirring with static as his hips sat flush against your own.

“Are you okay?” You asked as you kissed beneath his orange optics before you stroked your thumbs over the red marks, wondering if this was going to be too much for the Simulacrum.

Revenant hissed lowly at the feel of you clenching around his dick, his claws flexing over your hips and thighs, kneading the skin like a cat as he tried to stop himself from being so over stimulated by the entire situation.

Revenant looked you in the eyes with a sudden intensity, collected and calm as he reached to hold you in place, “It’s been about three hundred years. It’s been a hell of a long time for me…” He confessed as his dick twitched inside of you, “I remember some bits…mostly…mostly…” His voice fuzzed out again as he thrust his hips into your own, “Only one woman that I can remember…”

“Shh.” You hushed him quietly as you reached for his face, stroking the metal with a hum before you leaned up and kissed at his lips again, enjoying the locking of his fingers against your hips before he started to move. You clutched at Revenant’s arms as he thrust in and out, slowly, setting a careful pace as his own body went haywire.

“Fuck, skinsuit...sweetheart.” He groaned as he continued to thrust into you, his claws nipping at the skin of your hips as the rhythm grew in intensity and he pinned you down to the cushions. Your blood roared in your ears at the names. Revenant leaned down and groaned into your ear, his metal hips colliding with yours as he grew in pace.

“Rev…Revy please.” You whined as his pace didn’t falter, his hands gripping your hips tight as he rushed towards the edge, and you ground up against him, desperate for the feel of metal against your skin.

“Stop…squirming.” He grumbled.

“I’m close please.” You whined again, ignoring his hands holding you down as you pushed against him, moaning softly for him to carry on.

“Calm down. I’ll…” His voice went dead for a moment, “I’ll g-give you what you…” Revenant purred softly as the soft end of his dick grazed a bundle of nerves inside of you, “I’ll…I’ll…”

It washed over him like a surge of static and you watched the Simulacrum’s orange eyes go dark and his body roll with a surge of black and orange light, “F-Fuck…” His voice whined with static as he hilted himself deep and the lubricant spurted from the end like synthetic cum, filling you as you crashed over the edge as well, moaning underneath the mass of metal as he struggled to catch himself on his forearms.

“Jesus…” You cursed as you reached to cover your eyes, “Rev?” You asked quietly as you ran your hands over the back of his cool head, “You okay?”

Revenant’s eyes flashed on slowly before he looked at himself still sheathed inside of you and groaned, a deep, guttural noise, and drew his hips backwards. He grumbled before chuckling as lubricant spilled out of you, dripping onto the cushions before he hissed and grabbed your tattered shirt, stuffing it under you to stop any staining to your couch.

“Revy?” You cooed at him as he flopped next to you.

“Shush.” He grumbled as he laid against the cushions, the cold metal of his claws grazing over your skin in soothing patterns as he came too, “I’m…fine. That was just…”

“A lot…” You finished his sentence before curling against his chest, tracing patterns in turn over his metal chassis, “That was something…but it doesn’t change that I love you, just as yourself.” You cooed.

Revenant’s claws dug into your skin, “I know, baby, I know.” He pressed his head against your skin and you reached to stroke the back of his head, humming softly.

#revenant x reader #revenant x gender neutral reader #revenant #apex legends #revenant apex legends #revenant apex #apex legends revenant #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #reader insert

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