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akilahia · 3 months

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Thinking about IHNMAIMS in pretty much all of its forms.

Specifically Ted and Ellen. Obviously in the Game their relationship is very different from the short story/comic/radio drama, with Ted being in love with Ellen(although it’s evident it’s because she is the only woman left alive). In the game he shows devotion to her, he is willing to push past his usual methods of flirtation and find other ways to get what he needs.

But in the other adaptions his feelings towards Ellen are mixed. I think his unique backstory with being so dependent on women to live a happier and more lavish life style, significantly effect how he views Ellen beyond AM’s tampering

Throughout the short story Ted constantly thinks ill of Ellen. Even though prior to being placed in this hell, she had only had sex twice before. But she is the last woman alive on earth. The video game(while following a different plot line(still one that is extremely tragic and literally made me cry)) expresses that even before Ellen’s assualr she had little to no interest in sex. She would never have had sex with the four men if it weren’t for

1. AM

2. Being the Last women alive

3. AM’s deliberate tampering

In a world where characters like Benny have been so permanently physically marked as a form of torture by AM, something like sex, is not as extreme in comparison(at least from Ted’s perspective). However to be the last woman alive, with minimal interest in sex, to be tampered with in such a way, is such a horrific form of torture.

I’m going to shift a way from this for a second to talk about Ted’s backstory for the video game. I understand that the videogame makes changes in terms of backstory for some of the characters(like Benny), so we can’t claim Ted’s backstory for the game is even remotely close to whatever it might have been for the short story. However, I still think can provide interesting context to his behavior towards Ellen.

Starting off, he really isn’t the cool rich guy that he played himself off to be when life was still normal. He never came from money, he was poor and he was forced to work and couldn’t go to school. However he was good looking which is resulted in older woman being attracted to him. And when he was NINETEEN, one older woman gave him her husband’s money and offered him the chance to travel and live in luxury.

Now this probably isn’t important, or was even taken into consideration by the game makers, but I was curious as to what the possible age gap between this older woman and Ted could be. The were together for 5 years, then she died

She died specifically of an aneurysm, which according to Google typically happens between the ages of 30 to 60. There is all this stuff with the Cold War and ww3 and I was going to try to do all this math with it but it’s too late for that and not relevant to the point I’m trying to make. But I’m just going to do some simple mental math and estimate that it might have been late 60’s or early 70’s when the older woman and Ted first got into a relationship. As I’m assuming everything went to shit in 1995 since that’s when the game came out, and 25 years had passed after he met the woman. Also this makes sense as Ted’s grandfather sold the farm due to the Great Depression, since most people married and had kids young, I’m going to be generous and say grandpa was 30 in 1929, and Ted’s mother or father was 9, then 10-12 years later Ted was born. Then 19 years later it would be about the 60’s or 70’s.

I am going to presume that the older woman had been married to her husband for at least 15 years. So it might have been 50’s at the earliest possibility. And the average age people married at then was when they were in their 20’s. So when she met Ted she was AT THE EARLIEST 35. Making her at least 16 years older than Ted when the first got together. But also worth noting that they do specifically mention older. So if we look on the higher side of the typical ages for aneurisms she could have been 55 when they first met(as the 5 years would pass making her 60) so she could have been 36 years older than him.

This seriously isn’t relevant to the actual point I’m trying to make with Ellen and Ted but I got sucked in. I guess I just wanted to highlight that Ted did not have the power in this relationship, he was young and poor, while she was old and rich, and I can imagine how that kind of relationship would impact him.

The next thing I want to note is the use of the word ‘lover’.

Though it can be used in a strictly romantic non intimate sense, I think it is used in the sexual way here.

Especially with the provided context of two different definitions of the word ‘lover’ both highlighting it’s connotations with sexual relationships

Furthermore, Ted’s relationship with the older woman is essentially just a sugar baby relationship. She is letting him experience things he never could have without her money. She teaches him how to act as a socialite and gets him used to the high life.

In connection to the sexual elements above, there was a video I wanted to link here but I can’t find it anywhere anymore. It was a YouTube video with a bunch of sugar babies discussing their experiences. And one woman confides that you really won’t make much money if you are in a platonic or non intimate romantic relationship with your sugar parent. If you want to make money and live richly, you have to preform sexual favors.

Now it’s hard to say if this was the only relationship with an older woman that Ted had been in. But regardless of whether it was one woman or a billion, using his body in order to get something that he wants has become an important asset to Ted; As seen in the castle with the maid and the witch. His love for Ellen(in the video game) helps him break past this fatal flaw of his, despite AM’s obvious temptations to make him fail.

Even if this stuff was in anyone’s minds when they wrote Ted’s backstory but I think it’s extremely important to note, especially as we return to my main point.

As stated before, Ted views Ellen negatively due to her promiscuity, despite the desire(felt really gross typing this word in this context) being placed in her as a form of torture by AM. She also is a woman, and Ted’s life has been spent around using and being used by women, so definitely lots of conflicting stuff there. Additionally Ted’s experiences with sexual relations are shown to be based in being transactional.

When he agrees with Ellen to go to the caves to get the food, she rewards him by being intimate with him to show her gratitude. Ted sees it as her ‘using him.’ (From the Radio Drama, I was going to post the clip but I could only post one video in a tumblr post apparently)

In the comic, after this encounter he questions her motivations. What she got out of it, once again thinking transactionally. But her response

“Does there have to be a reason”

Really gets to me. Especially after looking at all this intertextual context. Thinking about video game Ted’s backstory with book Ted’s thoughts and behaviors, he is shown to always think there is some kind of catch. No one is doing something without getting something in return, especially if that thing is kindness.

Ted is so intensely paranoid(as seen in all versions). I think by pairing up the backstory for the game with the short story/comic/radio drama it’s evident to see how heavily affected he is by it.

He thinks he has been tormented less by AM, making him paranoid of the others, contributing towards his behavior towards Ellen. Yet despite everything from the past and all of AM’s tampering, he still finds comfort with Ellen. Her unfaltering kindness manages to reach him even when he dismisses it as a farce. She doesn’t hate him or the others for how they’ve treated her, she still wants to help them. He still cares for her and the others. But he is filled with so much fear. He even apologizes to her.

I feel like at that point in the Radio drama marks a shift. Ted has made a realization about AM and it’s a lot for him, but Ellen is there for him. It’s a genuinely sincere act of kindness from her where she doesn’t ask or expect anything in return. They have some kind of connection. Once again blending the different versions, I think that this moment between them comes together in the end when they kill the other victims together. They don’t speak to each other, they just do it quickly and he kills her. And here he doesn’t refer to her by any degrading names. In the comic he holds her. Like how in the radio drama she held him.

Overall I just wanted to point out how well all these versions really mix to provide so much more behind each character. The backstories for the video game allow the reader to understand book Ted’s actions and relationships from a new angle.

The is was super duper major mess of a ramble. It’s now 3 am and I have a migraine, so I’m done for tonight. I might clean this up another time or make another post about Video game Ted with context to his backstory since I didn’t include the events from the video game in here.

Once again these are just my thoughts and beliefs on how I think the video game backstory for Ted provides interesting context for Book Ted. I know that both stories play out differently and both Ted’s act differently so please don’t get angry if you disagree with the message of stuff I said

mini sequel post about video game Ted

#ellen ihnmaims #ted ihnmaims #ihnmaims #i have no mouth and i must scream #am ihnmaims #Ted #AM #Ellen #ihnmaims ted #ihnmaims ellen #ihnmaims am #ihnmaims radio drama #ihnmaims 1995

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goldenlikedayl1ght · 10 months

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born to die - m. murdock

a/n: IM NOT DEAD i am very busy with finals but this has been rattling around the old noggin for a while now. i took a lot of inspiration from @ellephlox 's fic strawberry rhubarb which i 100% reccomend bc its better than most fics including this one! hope you enjoy! as always reblogs and comments are always appreciated! <3 warnings: oh boy. torture (cutting, burning) some sexually suggestive talk (nothing happens but it's not consensual) readers dad abused her, nightmares, lots of major character death (but not permeant) ANGST!!! but with a happy ending! kidnapping, medical stuff, cursing, and if i missed anything, let me know! word count: 4.8k summary: as matt murdock's wife, your life is rather full of surprises. getting kidnapped by wilson fisk takes the cake as the worst one. pairing: matt murdock x wife!reader now playing: born to die - lana del rey "choose your last words, this is the last time/'cause you and i, we were born to die"

You would think after patching him up too many times to count, five years without him, and countless sleepless nights worrying if he was alive, you would think you’d be used to Matt Murdock and his world of surprises.

And then you get kidnapped, so maybe you’re not so immune to surprises.

It’s really such a shame too, because you’re storming out of the apartment, too angry to take notice of your surroundings.

Silly, foolish, ditzy you.

Because it isn’t like Matt hasn’t told you time and time again that you need to be careful, especially when you go out alone at night. But he’s so angry that he doesn’t even think about the potential dangers of Hell’s Kitchen at three a.m. when Daredevil has been tucked away for the night and Matt Murdock comes back out to play.

He’s been taking more and more patrols because with Fisk being out of prison he can’t help but be constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

How silly he was to think that maybe he could have it all—A successful law firm, good friends and a loving wife.

Silly, foolish, ditzy Matt.

But after a week of nonstop patrols, you’re both fed up and tired, and above all, you’re yearning for each other. Neither of you allow yourselves to be totally happy all the time. It would just make everything too easy.

So, after yelling at each other over, what? Patrols? Cases? Burnt dinners? You’re freezing on the streets, and you get about five blocks before you stop and rub your eyes.

This is dumb, you rationalize. Of course, you’re both stressed out and tired, but you’ve gotten through rougher times before, and you both made an oath. To each other, in front of his God, to love each other no matter what.

You realize you left your wedding ring on the table, the ghost of the metal around your finger haunting you. You were dumb for leaving and Matt was dumb for telling you to go. You’re made for each other.

You turn around to go back to your shared apartment, and then, someone grabs you from behind. Your first instinct is to yell for your husband, but you don’t get the chance to before you’re knocked out, by what you can only guess to be a gun or maybe a large fist.

• • •

You wake up in this dingy room, the lighting not suitable for much of anything except to make you afraid. The set up is almost comical and in a fucked up away, stereotypical for a kidnapping. You’re tied up to a chair, and the lights shine only bright enough so you can see shadows and rats scurrying along.

The air is this weird musk of salt and earth, and you realize you’re near the docks, and that’s about all you know about your current location.

Your head is still pounding from whatever it was you were hit with, but you can see another chair a few feet from you and a wooden table with various weapons laying on it. You don’t feel good about this one. Also on the table is an old school record player. You have no idea what the intention is with it.

You try to keep your cool, knowing that wherever you wander, your husband will not be very far off. That whatever is happening, he will be coming to find you no matter how upset he is for whatever it was you were fighting about earlier.

And then, out of the shadows, there he is.

But he’s too big to be Matt, and he has a man standing next to him.

Frank, maybe?

And then you realize who this man is.

He’s Wilson Fisk, the kingpin who has done nothing but torture and kill people, shoving it in Matt’s face for years. Matt only met you after Fisk was put back in prison, and you know at some point in the five-year blip without Matt, he had escaped prison.

So, this is the first time you’ve had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Fisk. When he meets your eye, you do nothing but stare.

“Good evening, Mrs. Murdock. It’s a shame we must meet under these circumstances.” He tells you, taking a seat in front of you. His henchman stands behind the chair.

“It’s regretful to say the least.” You tell him, not intending to make any more of an enemy out of him than Matt already has, not right now.

“I wanted to congratulate you on your wedding. I remember my own, it was a rather special day.”

You know that was the day Matt took him down. The night that he, Karen and Foggy took him down.

“I’ve heard stories. It seemed like a lovely day.”

“You’re a much more gracious guest than your counterpart.”

“Well, I’m sure people say similar things about you and yours.”

He seems to consider this for a moment before nodding.

“You’re probably right about that, Mrs. Murdock. I wanted to tell you I’m terribly sorry these are the circumstances in which we are finally introduced. But it seems Mr. Murdock has been interested in finding out more about my endeavors. And you see, we simply cannot have that. I made a promise not to hurt Miss Page or Mr. Nelson but it seems you were not included in that deal.” Of course not, it had been a long time before you showed up. “So, you’re how we’re going to send Mr. Murdock a message.”

Huh.

So, this is how you die.

Well, you might as well go out with a bang.

“You see, Mrs. Murdock, When I was a boy—”

“I’m going to stop you, Mr. Fisk, because your sob story is rather dull. I know who you are. You were beaten by your father, just like I was. The difference is that I don’t use that as an excuse to murder my way to the top of the food chain. And you can torture me, assault me, whatever you feel you need to do. But if you think for a second that I’ll forget who’s coming to stop you, you are sorely mistaken. And if you think he’ll ever stop trying to find me, you do not know my husband very well.”

Fisk stares at you for a while, his gaze hardening into a glare.

“You’re right. You do know who I am. Because we’re rather similar.” He stands up and nods to the man nearby. “If Murdock can hear her far from here, make sure he hears her screaming.”

Then Wilson Fisk walks away, and you are left with the sickening gaze of a man who has no good intentions.

The man goes to the record player and starts to play a song you recognize quickly as “Fly Me To The Moon” by Frank Sinatra. As he does this, he speaks,

“Hello, Mrs. Murdock. I’m John.” You stay quiet, and he just enjoys the song.

He picks up a knife from the table and goes to you, this grin on his face that makes you sick.

But you remember a trick from not only your childhood, but also from Frank who told you the key to remaining strong under torture—Distraction.

You stare straight ahead, trying not to mind as the man runs the knife over your skin. You think about Matt. You imagine him in his wedding suit, the smile he had on as you approached him down that aisle. You think about when he asked you to marry him, and—

A sharp pain slashes down your arm, cutting open the shirt you’re wearing. You yell in pain, before moving in to try and take deep breaths.

You can do this. Matt will be here soon.

You continue to breathe through the anxiety and the pain, trying not to think too hard about when John hums along to Sinatra’s voice, guiding his knife around your skin. Another cut finds itself on your shoulder.

This goes on for a while, with the classic song looping over and over again. John never seems to tire of it, no matter how badly you will for it to end. As the song ends in one particularly good loop, John hits your face hard, and your nose starts bleeding.

You try to think of Matt’s voice. You don’t listen to John’s torments, knowing it will only egg him on further. You just want him to burn at that point.

By the end of… Countless Frank Sinatra serenades, you have cuts littered around your body, dry blood on your face from your nose and tears running down your face. When he’s eventually done, two men cut you out from the chair and drag you along to a smaller, darker room. You are left in there with a small meal, and you just huddle against a corner, nearest a barred window out of your reach.

And then, you begin to speak for the first time since you saw Fisk.

“Matt,” You whisper, “I’m by the docks.” You tell him, not sure if he can even hear you. “Please, I’m sorry for everything, please just come find me..” You mumble, too tired and aching to try and do more.

• • •

The next day, or what you presume to be the next day since you have no way to tell how much time has passed, you’re woken up by a loud banging on the door of your.. cell..?

The same two men enter and drag you back to the room, where John waits for you.

“How are you feeling today, Mrs. Murdock?” He asks.

You glare.

“Fuck you.”

He laughs and shakes his head.

“What happened to the polite young woman Mr. Fisk and I met yesterday?”

You’re filled with unprecedented anger.

“I said, Fuck you!”

He wastes no time, grabbing a lighter off the table and starting the record player again. Once more, Frank Sinatra’s voice fills the room, and you’re pretty sure once you’re done with John, and then Fisk, you’ll bring Sinatra back from the dead just to kill him again.

You’ve never really been a violent person, but you suspect that it lives in the worst parts of you, just as it did with your own father. You’re much better at keeping it all at bay. Besides, it does you no good to be violent while you have Matt. He’s plenty angry for the both of you.

Oh, Matt..

This is how time passes for you. While John tortures you, burning you or carving into your skin, you think about how great it will be to choke the life out of the singer… And you think about Matt. When you’re in your dark little room, you talk to him. Even if he can’t hear you, you must hope that he’s looking for you.

• • •

Days pass. How long have you been here?

One night, you have the following dream:

It starts out as a memory. A memory of you and Matt. You’re lying in bed with him, and the sunlight is hitting his face just right. You love this memory, it’s one you recall often. He just has this angelic look to him.

Yeah, most people who encounter him, especially at night, meet the devil. But occasionally, you get glimpses of the angel you know he is. He’s sleeping, and you think in this state, he is the most relaxed you’ll ever see him.

Then, before your eyes, the dream shifts and you’re in this black void, on the ground.

Foggy, Karen, Frank, and Matt stand around you. You run to Matt but hit a clear shield keeping him from you. You bang on the glass, well, maybe it’s glass, you don’t know. You try to scream, but your voice never reaches your ears. You begin to look around, looking for a way out.

An eerie version of ‘Fly Me To The Moon’ plays as you glance over to Foggy and watch in horror as his body begins to turn to ash, just like Matt and Karen did when they were blipped. You scream, banging against the shield, but your screams are silent.

You glance back and see the same thing happening to Frank. No, no, no! It was never supposed to happen this way! Frank and Foggy, they lived! They got their time! They don’t die like this!

And then Karen starts too. You start sobbing, not wanting her to go. You had missed her so much, and you only just got her back. But soon enough, she’s gone too, and you’re left in front of your husband.

His hand comes up to rest on the forcefield and he frowns softly.

He says your name gently, and then adds, “You know it couldn’t last forever, right?”

And then just as quickly as before, he is gone again. You remain there in that void, sobbing and screaming though no noise reaches you. This can’t be it! You just got him back, you needed him! You couldn’t take being alone for another five years… Or more…

The dream transforms and you’re in this grand ballroom. People are dancing elegantly and you’re in this.. obnoxious ball gown. But across the room, you can see Matt. He’s dressed in an all-black suit, with a red masquerade mask covering his face. The mask has little red devil horns on it.

Now, the orchestra plays their rendition of Sinatra’s romantic classic. And you step towards Matt, attempting to make your way towards him, only to be met with a masked man, beginning to twirl you around.

You jump from man to man, until eventually, you’re dancing with a man in an all-white suit, a man you quickly recognize as Fisk. No matter how hard you try to escape his grasp, he holds on tighter. The two of you stop dancing now, amid the crowd of moving bodies.

Fisk grabs your chin and tilts it in Matt’s direction, just in time for you to see him bowing to another woman, kissing the back of her hand. Your eyes widen and you think, this can’t be real.

“When I kill you,” Fisk says, “He’ll move on. You’re easily replaceable, Mrs. Murdock.”

And then, in an instant, the woman with Matt pulls out a dagger and plunges it deeply into his abdomen. It’s then that the other dancers, besides you, Fisk, Matt, and this mystery woman, disappear. Matt turns to you and falls to his knees, clutching his stomach.

He tries to crawl to you, blood seeping onto his hands and the beautiful ballroom floor. He yells your name, and the woman stabs him again from behind, and you watch as your husband dies. You hear him screaming, hear him yelling your name. But Wilson Fisk keeps you in place. You can do nothing but watch as Matt Murdock meets his end again, unable to save him. You start to scream, thrashing against Fisk, ready to claw your way to Matt.

You wake up screaming, the nightmare haunting you. A guard bangs on your door, yelling at you to keep it down.

It was just a nightmare, you tell yourself. Maybe Matt heard your screams.

Maybe he’s already dead.

You force yourself not to listen to the voice in your head that says that.

• • •

One day, Fisk visits again, only this time, He’s covered in blood. That damn song is still playing.

You just stare. They have long since stopped tying you up, recognizing that you no longer have the energy to try and fight back. He has this sick grin on his face.

“Good evening, Mrs. Murdock.” You say nothing. “Have you been enjoying your stay with us?”

You glare.

“I hope Matt kills you when he gets here, because it will be a lot less painful for you if he does it instead of me.”

Mr. Fisk just laughs at this and tosses something at your feet. You get down off the chair to see what it is.

Your face goes pale with realization. You pick it up and slip it on your thumb, with it being too big for your other fingers. Matt’s wedding ring. You know it’s his, it has your name engraved in braille on the inside. How did he get this?

As if reading your mind, Fisk speaks again. “I took it off his body after I killed him.”

Your head shoots up to him. What did he say?

“No.” You deny. “Fuck off, I don’t—I don’t believe you.”

“Your husband is dead, Mrs. Murdock. I killed him with my bare hands because he was stupid enough to come after you. Your friends will mourn you and Matt Murdock for a while, and the city will come to the realization that Daredevil did nothing but harm. I win, Mrs. Murdock.”

You feel tears start to fill your eyes, and you realize, no. He hasn’t won because you’re still alive.

Maybe not for long, but you are.

You gather the rest of your energy and leap up, lunging at the large man covered in the man you love’s blood. And there’s a part of you that gets it. Okay, universe, you win. Most people don’t get a second chance like the two of you did. And now he’s dead, and soon you will be too. You can at least try to kill Fisk.

But you barely get a scratch in, yelling and screaming obscenities at him, as John grabs your arms from behind pulling you away. Fisk laughs and shakes his head again.

“It’s been lovely knowing you, Mrs. Murdock. I’m sorry you’ll have to die, you had so much potential. John, when you’re done doing whatever you’d like to her, kill her.” You hear him say it, but you’re blinded by rage, by grief.

John laughs behind you and forces you back into the chair, tying you back up once more. He looks at you, enraged and grief stricken, and just shakes his head.

“You and I are going to have a lot of fun.”

He leaves for a few minutes, and you realize this is the first time you’ve been left alone in this room. You tug at the knots and realize that while John is a gifted torturer, he’s not much of a knot tier.

So you manage to wiggle out of the rope, approaching the table in front of you. You don’t have much time. Okay, maybe you won’t be able to kill Fisk, but John will do. You take a golf club off the table in front of you and turn to the record player.

You begin to smash the thing in, angrily cursing at it as Frank Sinatra’s voice fades off into nothing. When the song ends, the lights turn off. And then, red flood lights turn on in their place.

A back up generator. Lovely. You think that your smashing of the record player couldn’t possibly make the whole building’s power go off, but you don’t really care at that moment.

You’re tired. You won’t make it far, but you need to try. You grasp the club and open the door, being greeted with a man you don’t recognize. You smack him in the face with the club hard enough for him to fall to the ground.

The red lighting adds an eerie tone to the hallways as you creep around, concussing various henchmen that Fisk has working for him. You don’t mean to kill these ones, only John.

But you’re running out of stamina, peeking around corners. And that’s when you see him. John is just standing there like he knows you’re there.

“Come out to play, Mrs. Murdock?” He calls, approaching the corner where you are waiting on the other side.

You focus on his footsteps, taking a swing around the corner when you know he’s close enough. You hear a sharp crack! As he falls, and you can’t see the blood in this lighting. Good. You begin to hit his head in, sobs mixing with yelling. You hate him. You want him to die before you’re killed.

But you don’t get the pleasure, because a pair of arms are pulling you off him, and you begin yelling.

“No!” You yelp. “No, Fuck you! Let go of me! Stop!” You think it’s another one of his goons, and you just want to be able to finish the job before you die. The figure forces you to drop the club. “Please, stop, don’t hurt me—”

But he’s saying your name and turning you around to see him. You know that voice.

“Sweetheart, hey, it’s just me—” He pants, his hands going to your cheeks. “It’s me, It’s just me. I’ve got you.”

And you can’t believe your eyes.

“Matt..?” You whimper, not able to believe it. “No, you’re dead, this has to be—”

And then, Matt does something he wouldn’t do for anyone who wasn’t his wife. He pulls off his helmet so you can see his face. Oh.

“I’m right here. I’ve got you.” He says softly, his thumb gently rubbing against your skin.

That’s when you start to sob, falling against him, no energy left to carry yourself. His arms wrap around you, and you say it again.

“He told me you were dead..”

“I know.. I’m sorry, I don’t know how he got my ring but we’ve gotta get you out of here.” He tells you.

You’re so tired. You’re slumping against him as you try to walk, the warmth radiating off his body just drawing you to sleep.

The last thing you hear before you fall asleep is Matt’s voice, begging you to stay awake.

• • •

You see flashes. Your parents, your dad. Nightmares of Fisk killing Karen, Foggy, Frank, and worst of all, Matt. You see John’s sickening grin on the body of spiders, and you’re chased by his cruel laughter.

But the dreams are filmier compared to what’s happening around you. You know Claire shows up at some point, and you’re thankful to her. Karen sits next to you sometimes, petting your hair, or sometimes it’s Foggy, talking your ear off.

You have fever dreams of Frank in full military gear, tormenting you.

“Not so tough now, huh, girl?” He teases. “You really thought you’d kill the big bad wolf? Solve all your boyfriend’s problems?”

You say to him, “Husband, He’s my husband.”

• • •

Even in your dreams, where you were slashed and burned aches, and you long for the pain to end.

You wake up only once throughout these dreams, and it’s when Karen is playing music to try and calm you from your insistent nightmares.

Only one song snaps you out of it, and you hear it clear as day.

‘Fly me to the moon,” Sinatra sings, “Let me play among the stars,’

He only gets through a few more lines before you’re sitting up on the couch, screaming.

“No! Stop, please!” You cry, and in an instant, Matt’s arms are around you. “Matt, please, don’t let him hurt me, please! Please don’t die, don’t let him keep hurting me!” You beg, in a hazed, frenzied state.

“I’ve got you, No one’s going to hurt you..”

Karen turns off the music somewhere deep in the apartment.

“No..” You begin to grow tired in his arms again. “Matty, please.. You can’t die, please..” You whimper out, continuing to mumble out pleads as you fall back into your weird dream state.

• • •

You really wake up two days later. Matt’s hand is clasped over yours, and he’s just.. Sitting on the floor next to the couch, praying into your clasped hands.

Praying for what, you don’t know.

Your body aches. But something in you tells you you’re safe.

“Matt…?” You whisper gently, and his head shoots up.

“Hey..” He says softly, one hand leaving yours, coming up to brush your hair out of your face. “There she is..”

“You’re alive..”

He seems a little concerned you still had some doubts about this.

“I am. Fisk lied to you.. He never even touched me.” You nod.

“Did I kill him? The man you found me..”

“No. He’s just in a coma, I checked. He’ll be brought to justice.”

“I only wanted him dead when I thought you were too..” Because really, you would have nothing if Matt wasn’t there. Nothing to live for. When he was blipped away, you had the hardest time readjusting to life. Now you know if he died again, you’d probably go off the rails.

No love story is saved more than once. You used up all your luck. Now it will be doomed if he’s ever killed again.

“I know.” He said gently.

“How long have I been out? How long was I in there?”

“A week, and then you were out for four days here. They got you good, baby..” He says gently. “I’m sorry I didn’t find you earlier.”

You frown softly.

“You did find me though. That’s all that really matters anymore.” You know you’ll be nursing scars for a long time. Physical or not.

“Still..” He said gently, and he brings your hand up to kiss it gently. “And I’m sorry I told you to leave that night. I was just upset, but this past week and half.. I feel like I’ve been going crazy without you. No matter how mad at you I am, I never want to spend another night without holding you. Knowing that you could have been…” His voice breaks, and he just sighs, taking a moment to lean his head on your hand. “I love you, so much.” He kisses your palm again.

How are you so tired again? All you’ve done is talk to him, but it feels like you just ran a marathon.

“I love you. It’s why I married you. Because you and I, we were always meant to be with each other. No matter what.”

He smiles weakly and reaches over to the coffee table to grab something. He slips it on your finger and for the first time in over a week, your wedding ring is back where it belongs. You see Matt is wearing his. Your Matt. Your husband. The only one you were ever meant to be with.

“Did Claire patch me up? I remember her being here..” He nods softly.

“Yeah, we.. we really owe her one. She was a huge help..”

“Karen and Foggy were here… And Frank?”

“No, no, Frank’s still in Illinois, I think?” You nod softly. “You were mumbling to him, though. I heard you… you were telling him you had a husband.”

You would laugh if it didn’t hurt.

“He called you my boyfriend. I had to correct him.” You grin.

“That’s my girl.” He hums. Matt gently lifts you so you can sit up and drink some water. Then, he climbs onto the couch and brings you close. His arms wrap around your freshly wounded skin and you have a rare moment of gratefulness for his blindness.

You sit in silence for a while.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks gently.

You think about it all. The torture, the cuts, burns, the small room. Fisk’s laughter, John’s grin. But something sticks out to you.

“Fisk said I was just like him.”

“What?”

“We.. We grew up similar, Matt, I mean.. What if he’s right? What if the only thing separating him and I is one bad move?”

Your husband frowns and shakes his head.

“Sweetheart, you are the.. the most amazing person I’ve ever met. You’re the complete antithesis of Wilson Fisk. Yeah, you grew up like him, but you’re living proof that you don’t have to go down the path he did just because of his background. You and I both know that there will never be a world where you end up like him. Especially not with me.”

You find comfort with his words. Not only did you make every choice not to be like Fisk, but you must’ve also made all the right decisions if in the end, you ended up with Matt. Oh, it won’t be easy, you know that for sure. You’ll never be able to listen to Frank Sinatra, and your upcoming nights are filled with nightmares and hauntings.

But one day you’ll be okay. One day You’ll be able to sit in the silence without thinking about it. One day you’ll get the image of dead Matt out of your head. You’ve spent many nights wondering about who will go first, you or him.

And then you realize the best-case scenario is that the two of you die at the same time, never living another moment without each other.

How would there ever be a world where you and your husband weren’t with each other, even just for a moment?

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #daredevil x reader #daredevil fic #netflix daredevil #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock hurt/comfort #matt murdock my beloved #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending

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polyo-nym-y · 2 months

Text

Delightful Debauchery

[CH.1: When Tainted Souls Meet.]

Human! Alastor x Human! Fem! Reader

[Word Count: 2,844 ]

[Content Warnings: This Ch. is SFW, however, the story will delve into NSFW, So minors are still asked to NOT INTERACT. This story will eventually focus on exploring sex as well as darker themes revolving around Alastor being a serial killer (gore/blood/death). But for this Ch. there isn’t much to warn about!]

Once you allow blood to spill on your hands it’ll become a stain you’ll never wash away. No matter how clean your skin may appear, the etching of your sin will forever follow you. Permeating layers of flesh and seeping into your very soul.

You know you’re damned to an eternity in Hell. It’s something you have come to terms with rather quickly. So, you thought, might as well spend the time you have left on earth however you please. You’ve already sealed your fate, now it’s time to enjoy life amongst the living whilst it lasts.

The sky was clear, allowing the sun to beat down without anything obscuring its rays. Your skin felt sticky as heat weighed heavily in the thick and muggy air. You stood on an unshaded sidewalk, your eyes following the brick and wooden exterior of the building in front of you. A sign outside read in golden lettering ‘Crescent City Radio Station, WWNO 999 on your AM dial!’.

By now you must’ve read that sign a million times, your brain lagging trying to process that you were actually here. The folder you brought with you was being used as a fan, desperately trying to cool yourself off. The mix of the humid heat and anxiety had you teetering on overstimulation.

“C’mon, don’t clam up* now.” You quickened your fanning as the air you created lightly blew your hair back. “You came all this way...”

You continued muttering to yourself as you willed your feet to move from the sidewalk. Taking hesitant steps, you approached the building's front. Your eyes following the ornate etching on the front window. The interior curtains were closed, allowing no sneak peeks inside.

Your gloved fingers twitch over the door handle. After taking one last breath you force your signature smile, a tool you used often. Opening the door, you slowly entered as your eyes swept over the lobby space. The cooler air of the building soothed you as your shoulders relaxed. You stood in the middle of the lobby with curious eyes. Soft music played from a gramophone behind the front desk. The ceiling was high and the space was clean. Arguably, one of the fancier places you’ve seen as of recent.

So enthralled by the interior, you hadn’t noticed the set of eyes burning holes into you as you approached the front desk. As you turned and settled your eyes forward you flinched back as you were met with a cloud of smoke being blown at you. The receptionists' annoyed stare was accompanied by an insincere smile as she ashed her cigarette into the nearby ashtray. “Hm? Oh no I’m still here, love. Mhm, yeah.” She spoke into the phone that was wedged against her ear with her shoulder. “Just a drab dame* waltzed in so it’s nothing important.”

You couldn’t stop your nose from scrunching up as your eyes narrowed down on the seated women. But the receptionist seemed to pay no mind as she belted out a haughty laugh at whatever was said on the other end of the phone. Clearing your throat, you stepped up to the front desk and settled your gloved hands atop the shiny wooden surface. “Excuse me-” you hesitated as the receptionist's sharp glare shot back up to you. “This is actually something important, if you wouldn't mind?” Not like it's your job or anything, you thought to yourself.

You watched as her stare twisted into a sneer directed up to you. “One second, Val.” With a big huff she would drop the phone from her ear and press the mic end against her chest to ‘mute’ it. “Ugh, what do you want? I’m kind of busy here.”

Your gaze remained narrowed but you managed to bring back your smile, albeit tense. “Terribly busy, I can see.”

“Tch. Listen, girlie-“ The phone still in her hand was lifted to point up at you. “Whoever you’re here to see doesn’t have time to talk with fans no matter how important you think it is-“

You interrupted her with a laugh, “Hah! No- I’m not a fan- well, I’m not not a fan-“ you paused trying to stop yourself from tripping over your own words. The rude interaction caught you off guard, with your nerves already being high. “I’m here to discuss the possibility of employment.”

“The station isn’t looking to hire, hun.” The woman stretched her shoulders back with a scoff. “Not to mention all the high pillows* are very busy-“

You glanced past her to the clock on the wall. “Actually, it’s noon.” Your eyes met the womens once more as you softened your expression to match your faux-smile. “I was hoping to speak with Mr. Heartfelt specifically. Based on his broadcasting schedule he should be taking a coffee break right now-“ you saw the concerned and disgusted look on the receptionist's face as she slowly stubbed her cigarette out. “Or so I’ve heard, uhm. Just- Please, at least ask him.”

“Not a fan, huh?” She looked you up and down as she set the phone down on the counter without hanging it up. “If it’s that egg* then I could care less if he's busy or not. So, sure. Especially if it means you'll leave me alone.” She said with a small shrug as she rolled her chair over to an intercom. Bringing the speaker to her ear as she pressed Alastors call button. Waiting only a moment for it to be picked up before she was smirking into the mic, “Mr. Heartfelt~, you have someone here for a meeting with you.”

You bounced nervously on your heels as you tried to listen in on whatever answer she was given. The receptionist's eyes flickered over to you as she held a toothy grin and hummed into the speaker. “Mhmm.” She lifted her free hand up to inspect her nails, idly. “Yeah, no you didn't have this on your calendar, mhm.” You cringed a bit and tried to reach out to her but she just continued speaking into the intercom. “Oh no, she made it very clear she was in fact not a fan.” She gave you a mocking thumbs up.

Your mouth opened in horror as the woman before you barked out a snobby laugh like a small purse dog. Unconsciously, your fingers tensed on the paper folder you were holding. Your head begins to race with anxiety at the fact this wretched woman might have just ruined your first impression.

But you will yourself to take a deep breath as the receptionist hangs the intercom and rolls back to her original spot. Her dark slender fingers picking the phone back up as she waves you off and gestures to the hall at her left. “Fourth door.” Was all she said before turning her attention back to her phone conversation. Despite your annoyance you offered a thank you. To which she groaned in response, “Ugh, dry up*.”

As the receptionist spun in her chair to completely turn her back to you, your smile fell flat. If I do get hired then she’s going to be a problem, you weighed your options as you slowly stepped around the front and down the hall you were directed to.

Anxiety won the battle against annoyance as you felt it's nauseating grip settle back in your chest. You found yourself in front of the fourth door quicker than you would've liked as you nervously inspected it. A beautiful dark wood with a golden plate reading Alastors name. For a moment, as you heard the receptionist bark out another laugh in the lobby, you debated on just leaving. But you thought, what do I have to lose?

Gently knocking your knuckles on the door, you leaned forward to listen for a reply. A muffled ‘Come in.’ was given and you flinched as if you didn’t expect him to answer. Your gloved hands fussed with your clothes and hair. Once you felt somewhat put together you settled your hand on the handle and slowly pushed the door open. Taking a single step over the threshold your eyes glanced across the office that the door opened into. Your smile shining as you began your practiced speech, “I apologize Mr. Heartfelt. I know I’m interrupting your busy schedule- and I must thank you for even giving me a chance to speak with you.” Your words were laced with perfectly crafted faux-confidence. But silence fell between you two as soon as your eyes met Alastors. An ominous chill seemed to fill the already cool office as you felt goosebumps rise on your skin. A feeling consumed both you and Alastor at that very moment, weighing heavy in the air like the humidity outside. But you couldn’t quite put your finger on it- it was an odd queasy feeling that slipped down your throat and settled in your stomach like a hard pill to swallow.

But the instinctual warning you felt in your gut was pushed to the side when you really took in Alastors appearance. Because, by God, everyone knew Alastor for his charming voice and radio persona. But to find out he had the looks to match? Now that had your brain nearly short circuiting. Your eyes ran over him unabashedly. Tan hands, long arms, broad shoulders and a proud chest. Fitted button up beneath a red vest with a perfect black bowtie and rounded glasses that rested atop the bridge of his nose. Though, what really caught your eye was his hair, cut in a style you had never seen before. If you looked closely, between the dark strands you could see the beginning of grays peppering throughout. Really the only physical indication of his age. You had to assume he must be in his forties and yet the man before didn’t look a day over thirty.

Alastor sat behind a large wooden desk with his hands folded together in front of him. His eyes caught yours, forcing your wandering gaze into tense eye contact. Stunned, you watched his eyes crinkle as his neutral smile grew into a grin. The sight of your wide eyes and lightly tinted cheeks was enough to distract him from his own instinctual unease.

You watched as his eyes slowly raked down to your toes before rushing back up. Clearing his throat he pushed his glasses up as he sent a wide smile to you. “Oh, no worries about that, dear. You caught me at a perfect time.” You knew that. “Please, sit.” He gestured a hand to the chair in front of his desk. Keeping his eyes trained on you as you seated yourself. He paid attention to your movements, how you sat and the expression you gave him. “I know Velvette said you were here to inquire about a job? I hope you weren’t misinformed- but we aren’t currently hiring.”

With your ankles crossed you sat with a straight back. Hands fiddling with the edge of the folder as it lay in your lap, your only outward cue of nervousness. “Oh, no, I am aware the radio station wasn’t advertising for workers.” Alastors elbows rested on his desk with clasped hands. His eyes staring into your own with what felt like never-waning intensity. As you swallowed audibly, you swore you saw his smile widen.

“And yet you are still here.” He said amused as his eyes narrowed. He was intrigued and so even though he had no intent on hiring you, he let you continue. “Why is that, Mrs-?”

“Miss.” You corrected before giving your name. “And it’s truly an honor to be meeting you, Mr. Heartfelt-”

He rose a single hand up to stop you, “The pleasure is all mine, dear. But please, Alastor is fine.” He leaned back into his chair as you heard it creak. His eyes darted down to the folder in your hands. “But as you were saying?”

Your eyes shot down to the folder he was staring at. “Oh, yes, well-“ Gently, you slid the folder across the desk towards him. “I’m a writer- researcher- journalist. Whatever you may need I promise I can provide.” As Alastor picked up the folder and opened it you cringed inwardly. Seeing how crinkled it was now from your constant nervous handling of it.

“This is..” His eyes read reports and details about certain events he has already reported on. Scripts for news readings that happened recently, many of which having details he himself hadn’t gotten. But what had his eyes widening was the last bulk of paper all reporting on the string of serial murders that Louisiana has faced within the decade or so.

“It’s my work. As you can see I take my work seriously and I’m able to get details you won’t find anywhere else.”

“How long have you lived here?” There were testimonies from people within the local community, names he recognized. Yet, he didn’t recognize you.

“I arrived here last week.” You lied through your teeth.

His eyes shot up to you as one long finger pointed against your papers. “This was all done within a week?”

“Yes, sir.” You nodded as you began to internally panic. Was the lie too obvious? Usually you're better at this. “For the most part at least. The end which focuses on the Bayou Butcher has been more so a hobby of mine prior to moving here. So some research on that was done previously, I’ll admit.”

You didn’t notice the way his jaw clenched at your words. “Dangerous don’t you think? A sweet belle like you chasing after a killer.”

You laughed, earning a surprised look from Alastor. “I appreciate the concern but I can handle myself.”

His smile grew into a smirk as he stifled a mocking laugh. “I’m sure you can, darling, I’m sure you can...” He sighed deeply as he held the folder up to feign reading it more intently. One hand adjusting his glasses as he hummed. “But against a killer like this? Overestimating in one’s own abilities often leads to an early demise.”

“Underestimating in others will lead to worse.” You replied without skipping a beat.

Quick witted girl, he thought to himself. Such a young thing coming here with such a devastatingly good eye for this. Too bad, too bad.

“Your work is impressive, I’d be a fool to deny that.” He slowly stood from his seat as he slid the closed folder back to you.

You stood up abruptly to match him as you took your folder. “So does that mean-?”

“You’re hired? Heavens no!” He laughed as he rounded the desk and approached you. The height difference between you and him became alarmingly apparent as he stood beside you. Bending at the waist to ghost a hand on the small of your back as he gently ushered your frozen form towards his office door. “I did tell you we aren’t hiring, dear.”

“What- no, wait, Mr. Heartfelt-“ You pushed his hand away from your back and planted your feet. “But you said it was impressive. You read all the details I got- things you never got.”

His lip twitched at the attack to his own work. A bit of malice tainting the sweetness in his tone. “Come back when you have something actually worthwhile, darling. Cause that fancy writing? Ain’t nothin’ special.” For a moment you caught his transatlantic accent drop.

“Worth- WORTHWHILE?! I have connected deaths that the fuzz* haven’t even connected!”

“You’re theorizing. Nothing you have is substantial.”

“What are you expecting?? The killer's identity?” You asked, bewildered by his disregard towards you and your work.

A fire filled those beautiful eyes that looked up at him and he could feel their heat igniting something in him. Lifting one of his hands to rest his fingers over his grinning lips. A poor attempt to hide his amusement. “Yes, actually, that would be something worth my time.”

“Okay, fine.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ll find the killer's identity. Then you’ll hire me, right?”

He straightened his back, caught off guard. But, who was he to push away a game he was certain he’d win? “Hah! Sure, why not-” He tensed as you yanked your glove off and extended a hand up to him. He raised a brow at it as if he had never seen one before.

“Shake on it. If I come back with honest to God proof of the Butchers identity. You have to hire me.” You narrowed your eyes up to him. “Deal?”

Oh, how fun. His hand took yours, completely enveloping it. “Deal.”

Let the game begin.

And without another word he watched you march out of his office, huffing and puffing. He trailed slowly behind to watch you leave through the front doors. A soft chuckle left him as he leaned against the front desk counter.

When he heard Velvette snicker with him he flinched and snapped his gaze down to her.

“Did you hire the dumb dora*?”

“No-“

“Looks like you wanted to~”

He squinted with a strained smile. “Go home, Velvette. You don’t actually work here.”

1920s Slang Used*

*Clam Up: To become silent suddenly.

*Dame: A woman.

*High Pillow: Person at the top, in charge.

*Egg: A man.

*Dry Up: Shut up, get lost.

*Fuzz: Police.

*Dumb Dora: A foolishly simple or dumb woman.

Credit where credits due!

Art Deco Banners: @/saradika

MDNI Banner: @/cafekitsune

Yellow Star Banner: @/cafekitsune

Tags:

@6esiree

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon #alastor x you #alastor smut #alastor x reader smut #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader #human alastor #human alastor x reader #alive Alastor #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel alastor

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s0lemnhypn0s · 2 months

Text

I translated the jargon at the bottom of bills contract on the thisisnotawebsitedotcom.com.

the top part says

"YOU ARE NOW TWENTY ONE GRAMS LIGHTER"

but the rest of it says:

"THIS CONTRACT IS LEGAL AND BINDING, WE RESERVE THE RIGHT TO USE YOUR LIKENESS, FACE, VOICE, AND SMALL TOWN PLUCK IN WHATEVER NEFARIOUS MANNER IS DEEMED NECCESARY. SANS SOUL, YOUR SOULMATE WILL NOT RECOGNIZE YOU AND WILL WALK RIGHT PAST YOU ON A COLD AUTUMN DAY, NEVER MAKING EYE CONTACT, NOT EVEN PROCESSING THAT YOU HAVE EYES AT ALL, NO AMOUNT OF INTERACTION WILL MOVE THEM TO A PLACE WHERE THEY CAN REMEMBER IN FEELING THE THOUSANDS OF LIFETIMES YOU HAVE ALREADY SPENT TOGETHER, EACH CHOOSING WHATEVER FORM WOULD KEEP YOU CLOSEST LIKE OTTERS HOLDING HANDS IN A TUMULTUOUS RIVER. YOU WERE BIRDS, YOU WERE TREES WITH ROOTS ENTANGLED, DRINKING IN THE SUNLIGHT TOGETHER. WHEREVER WE GO NEXT, WHATEVER YOU CHOOSE, I WILL ALWAYS BE RIGHT THERE WITH YOU. THATS DONE, BUDDY! CONGRATULATIONS, YOU HAVE CHOSEN BILL INSTEAD. MCDONALDS RESERVES THE RIGHT TO PUT A GIANT YELLOW M ON YOUR TORSO AND FOREHEAD AND SEND YOU WALKING THROUGH A CROWDED TIMES SQUARE WHILE YOU SCREAM. THE FRIES, THE FRIES, THEY DONT DEGRADE IN NATURE, ITS AN IMMORTAL FOOD, THEY WILL BE IN THE LAND FILLS LONG PAST OUR DEATHS, GOOD GOD, THE THINGS I'VE SEEN. ME, WHO AM I? OH I'M BILLS PREVIOUS LAWYER, HE PUT MY SOUL INTO A QUILL PEN SO I CAN WRITE HIS LEGAL DOCUMENTS UNTIL THE SUN SNUFFS OUT LIKE A CANDLE IN THIS SICK UNIVERSE. I USED TO BE SO HOT, I WAS SO FINE, NOW I'M FINE PRINT, SPEAKING OF WHICH, BILL RESERVES THE RIGHT TO PUT YOUR SOUL INTO AN INANIMATE OBJECT, A STRANGE CREATURE, A CONCEPT, A SENTENCE, A TASTEFUL BUT RUSTIC MASON JAR WITH WILDFLOWERS IN IT. IF AT ANY POINT YOU WISH TO HAVE VISITATION RIGHTS WITH YOUR SOUL YOU WILL BE SWIFTLY DENIED, UNLESS YOU HAD A COOL DAY PLANNED FOR THE BOTH OF YOU, THEN BILL MIGHT WANT TO COME ALONG. BY SIGNING THIS DOCUMENT YOU FORFEIT ANY RIGHTS TO EATING SOUL FOOD, IT WILL TURN TO ASH BY YOUR MOUTH, A FITTING PUNISHMENT FOR A FOOL WHO SQUANDERED THE ONLY TRUE GIFT LIFE OWES YOU. BILL RESERVES THE RIGHT TO DRESS YOUR SOUL HOWEVER HE DEEMS NECCESARY, ESPECIALLY IF YOUR SOUL WAS A NERD BEFORE ACQUISITION. SOUL MAKEOVERRR. YOUR SOUL MAY BECOME FRACTURED AND PLACED INTO DIFFERENT OBJECTS, THIS HAS NO PURPOSE AND WILL NOT RESURRECT YOU IF YOU DIE. SIGNEE HAS FORFEITED ALL RIGHTS TO ANY AFTERLIFE, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO: HEAVEN, HELL, PURGATORY, BIG CORNER, FLOW STATE, THE DREAM HOUSE, THE REINCARNATION PROCESSING CENTER, AXOLOTL'S TANK AND CONSEQUENCES HOLE, SIGNEE CAN NO LONGER BOARD THE SOUL TRAIN AND IS ADVISED TO DISCARD ALL BELLBOTTOMS. SIGNEE CAN NO LONGER HAVE A PUPPY AS A BEST FRIEND, THEY CAN SENSE WHAT IS GONE. CATS ARE INDIFFERENT. SIGNEE MAY EXPERIENCE OCCASIONAL DEMON POSSESSIONS FROM HORCULUS THE RED, PLABOS THE MERCILESS, MORBUS SON OF MORTEM, PLAGA THE OOZING, AND OTHER SUCH COMMON DEMONS ROAMING EARTH SEARCHING FOR WEAKENED EMPTY VESSELS. TIPS FOR RIPPING YOUR SOUL OUT AT HOME: WATCHING YOUTUBE COMMENTARY CHANNELS, ATTENDING AN EXTENDED FAMILY EVENT WITH AN OPEN BAR, USING GENERATIVE AI AND ASSERTING THAT YOU ARE CREATIVE, TURNING A BLIND EYE TO HUMAN SUFFERING, AMASSING MORE WEALTH THAN NEEDED, PURCHASING A BLUE CHECKMARK"

I translated all of this by hand and I got a headache for it you guys better appreciate this and if someone beat me to the finish ill cry

#gravity falls #bill cipher #thisisnotawebsitedotcom #ARG #gravity falls arg

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vivalas-vega · 2 years

Text

Flygirl / Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Reader

this idea came to me suddenly and I could not sleep until I wrote it. I really intended for this to be short and sweet but it took on a life of it’s own lol hope you enjoy!

flygirl / jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader

add yourself to my taglist

word count: 8k

warnings: fluffy jake, swearing, probably a lot of fighter jet/flying inaccuracies, oral (f recieving), unprotected p-in-v (pls be safe)

summary: Whiskey is the Dagger Squad’s favorite bartender, and Hangman’s best friend... when he decides to take her flying long repressed feelings bubble to the surface.

Classic rock filtered through the jukebox nestled away in the corner, mixing harmoniously with the chatter of patrons scattered throughout the Hard Deck, all looking to unwind after a long day on the nearby Naval base. You stood behind the bar, fixing drinks and bobbing your head along to whatever tune was playing, pretending to be riveted by the story the old-timer was telling you. Your eyes skimmed the room, landing on your favorite group of pilots gathered around their usual spot at the pool table and you didn’t even notice the smile that tugged at the corners of your lips. They’d all filtered in a few months ago, having witnessed some old friends reuniting, new friends forming bonds, and a particular pair who seemed to be at odds but you knew better. You saw right through the two of them and knew once the pissing contest had run its course they’d be just as close as the rest of them.

You were an unofficial member of the Dagger Squad, having been their favorite bartender and earning a call sign of your own based upon your drink of choice, and they were the only group for whom you’d willingly go to your place of work on a night off. Your sights set on the tall blonde, hanging off to the side watching Rooster and Phoenix battle it out, and it wasn’t long before he noticed and was in motion, your senses overwhelmed by that southern drawl and the scent of his cologne. “Just the bartender I was hopin’ to see.”

“Hangman,” you greeted, trying not to smile as you prepared a gin and tonic for the mousy brunette now ogling the pilot who was only focused on your hands as you quickly mixed the drink. You set it before the girl who slowly went back to her friends, chuckling as she nearly tripped over her own feet in an attempt to keep her eyes on him for as long as possible, “she’s cute, you should go after her.”

“Who?” He mused, eyes boring into your own as he flashed his famous smirk and you just shook your head, pouring his drink into a tumbler and handing it to him before he even had a chance to order. “Not the whiskey I was hoping for,” he angled, referencing the callsign he’d bestowed upon you.

“You simply couldn’t handle it, Hangman,” you teased, wiping the bar down and raising an eyebrow at him. “You said you wanted to see me?”

“Mmhm, Maverick has granted me a favor,” he stated, watching as you slipped your apron off and tossed it under the bar, pouring your own drink before hopping over and following Hangman to your group of friends.

“And what might that favor be?” You knew better than to fall into any of his traps, but the setup of this one had your curiosity piqued.

“Well, we were all talking and we thought it was a damn shame our newest member has her own callsign, but has never been up in a fighter jet.” Your brows furrowed as you processed the implication of what he’d said, eyes shooting to Phoenix, then Rooster, looking for any hint of him yanking your chain.

“You’ve heard all our stories but have never experienced it, it was actually my idea,” Phoenix supplied and you gave her an exasperated look. Sure, they made what they did sound cool as hell and you loved how passionate they were about their line of work but you preferred your feet firmly planted on the earth below you, not whizzing around the skies.

“And, seeing as I saved Mav and Rooster’s life, I had a favor to cash in. Secured a two-seater and a spot on the runway at nine am tomorrow morning… so maybe make that your only drink tonight.” Hangman eyed the amber liquid in your glass.

“I’m not getting in a jet with you, Bagman,” you replied simply, earning a snort from Rooster.

He couldn’t hide his shock, “you don’t want to fly with the best pilot in the Navy?”

“Oh, so Maverick is taking me up? You should really work on your delivery, you had me confused for a moment.” Rooster let out a full laugh now, enjoying as you so easily worked him up.

“No, you’ll be flying with me. I thought you would be excited,” his tone was playful but you sighed as you heard the undertone of hurt.

“Flying is just not my thing,” you tried to save yourself but the looks of your friends made you realize you weren’t getting out of this. You should have been excited, even touched that they so badly wanted to share this part of their lives with you, to clue you in on the most important thing to them but in reality all you felt was a pit of anxiety. Especially because it was Jake Seresin you’d be flying with. You trusted him implicitly, on the ground, but in the sky? Well, you’d heard the stories of the cocky pilot, keen on taking risks and pulling out dangerous maneuvers even when the situation didn’t necessarily call for it. It was enough to make you shudder from your safe spot behind the bar, and you were perfectly fine with not completely being in the loop whenever they talked about their time in the air.

“Whiskey, you’re going to love it, I promise.” Phoenix reassured, looping her arm through yours, the other wrapping around your waist. You leaned against her and sighed, mind running with all the what if’s. What if this was the one time there was a malfunction with his engine, what if this was the one time he didn’t stick the landing, what if this was the one time he can’t fly his way out of a bird strike, what if- “I can literally hear the grinding of gears in your brain, Mav wouldn’t have said yes if he knew you wouldn’t be safe.” Phoenix broke you out of your spiral with a new tactic to calm your nerves, placing a kiss to your cheek and going back to her pool game.

“Wait no, come back I think she’s still anxious,” Hangman called after her, having enjoyed the moment of affection between you two but all he got was two middle fingers. You checked the time on your watch, realizing the night was winding down and you glanced at Penny who waved you off, conveying that you were fine to leave for the evening. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.” Hangman said to you softly, encouraging you to finish your drink and before you knew it he was taking your glass to the bar and grabbing your bag from Penny.

“If she comes off that jet with even a hair out of place, Hangman…” You could hear her warn and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Don’t worry Pen, you won’t even have the chance to kill me… there’s more than enough people on base that will do it for you.” He wasn’t wrong, you’d become a bit of a fixture to all of the Naval officers in the area, much like Penny had. You were there almost every night, fixing them drinks and offering a listening ear, whether they needed to decompress after a stressful day or boast over a victory and you wouldn’t have changed it for anything. You loved being at the Hard Deck, Penny paid you far more than she should and she encouraged you to follow your passions, indulging any one of your whims with nothing but love and support.

“You’ll be fine, you know. He cares about you more than anything, he’s not going to be reckless with you.” Rooster all but whispered into your ear as you hugged goodbye and it actually eased some of the tension that had your body rigid. He felt the change and smiled as he pulled away, a little smug to know he was the one that calmed the racing thoughts. “And if you change your mind, I’m sure I could sweet talk Mav into letting me take you.” He joked and you just shook your head with a small laugh, smiling up at Jake as his hand rested on the small of your back.

“So you two can run out of fuel above the Pacific?” He jabbed and you just waved your hand between the two of them.

“Not this argument again,” you sighed as you remembered the first night you’d met them all, and their little stand-off by the pool table. Jake’s hand was feather light on your back as he guided you out of the bar and into the cool night air, sliding his jacket over your shoulders just as he always did.

“You know, we do this every night, you’d think you’d remember a jacket.”

“Hoes don’t get cold.” You mumbled, wrapping it around your frame and he barked out a laugh. The silence was comfortable as you started the short walk along the beach to your bungalow, an old family home passed down not too far from the bar. You two had been doing this ever since you met, Jake knew you could take care of yourself but that didn’t stop him from wanting to see for himself that you’d made it home safe, and after one night of forgetting to text him once you did he made it his personal mission to be your escort. You’d protested, saying something about being strong and independent, but in reality you loved it. Out here you saw a completely different side of him. He wasn’t Hangman, he was just Jake.

“Why did you ask Mav if you could take me flying?” You finally asked, breaking the silence. It was so soft he almost didn’t catch it over the sound of the waves lapping against the shore a few yards away.

“Phoenix had a point, you’re a part of the squad and have to listen to all our stories, only seems fair to let you experience it for yourself.” He supplied the same answer from earlier in the night through tight lips and you narrowed your eyes as you looked up at him knowing he wasn’t giving you the full truth. Sure, it was a reason, but it wasn’t the reason.

“Wanna try that again?” You asked, climbing up the stairs of your back porch and settling into the creaky porch swing just as you always did, patting the spot beside you.

He was silent for a moment, swaying the two of you as he sat down, carefully considering his next words but sighing as he knew there wasn’t really anything he could get past you. “I’d honestly been thinking about it before Phoenix brought it up… she just gave me the perfect excuse to finally do something about it. Sometimes I feel like you’re the only person that actually knows me, but you’re missing this huge part and I don’t know… I kind of just wanted to share that with you.” Your breath caught at his vulnerability. You did know him better than anyone, your short walks on the beach that turned into long conversations on that very porch swing into the wee hours of the morning created a bond you didn’t have with any of the other aviators. Somewhere deep down you’d known the two of you were dancing around something much bigger than friendship but you’d both never admit it to yourselves or anyone else for fear of wrecking what you already had. They’d all been on North Island for much longer than you anticipated, and it seemed it would stay that way for a little while longer, but the thought of them all being whisked away from you, especially him, sent a sharp pang through your heart every time it crossed your mind and you’d never jeopardize your moments on the porch swing for something that may not pan out.

“You don’t actually have to if you don’t want to… I probably shouldn’t have sprung it on you in front of everyone, I just-” he started, seeing you deep in thought and suddenly getting self conscious, a feeling so foreign to him he couldn’t stand it.

“No, Jake I’m really touched you even want to take me flying… I know how much it means to you. I’m just a little scared, I mean I’ve heard all of your stories, and Rooster’s and Phoenix's and I just don’t understand how you guys do that every day.”

“Darlin’, all that scary stuff happens on missions. We’re just going on a little joy ride, no enemies lurking around or SAM’s to watch out for. Just you, me and the open sky.” He promised.

“It’s not even that, I…” you trailed off, knowing it was unfair to keep yourself guarded and not share what you were really scared of when he’d been so open with you, but something was stopping you from taking the plunge.

“Tell me,” he encouraged softly, his hand taking up residence on your thigh and rubbing reassuringly.

“I’m scared that I’m going to understand,” you admitted and he looked at you a little confused but waited for you to gather your thoughts enough to continue. “It really terrifies me, you know? What you all do… you rowdy pilots came into my bar and my life hasn’t been the same since, you guys are my family and I hate knowing that any one of these days you could get called away and never make your way back home to me. I’m scared that once I get up there with you I’m going to understand why you all love it so much and then I’m not even going to be able to be mad at you when something goes wrong.”

“Oh sweetheart,” he said, tenderly brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. He was sure his heart had broken wide open hearing your confession, hearing that this had been a fear of yours for longer than he knew. “We’re all going to be just fine, I don’t know if you know this or not but… Dagger Squad is pretty badass.” He said with a small smirk, trying to lift the mood.

“Maverick and Rooster almost died.” Your voice was small and he wasn’t sure how to combat this one. You were right, they did almost die and it was your voice that pushed him to fly after them, your voice that overruled every fiber of his being that was trained to take orders, your voice that got him a slap on the wrist for doing just the opposite. Sure, despite his icy exterior he’d grown a soft spot for Rooster, but more than that he just wasn’t sure he could ever look you in the eye again if he had to come home and tell you they hadn’t made it, that he didn’t do anything to help.

“But they didn’t. We’re an official squadron now, and we’re always going to have each other’s backs. No one on this team is dying until we’re all old and gray, and if for whatever reason something does happen, well… maybe then at least you’ll have the comfort of understanding. Understanding why we do it, and why we’re all okay with the risks.”

You nodded, “I am excited to fly with you, Jake. I kind of just wish you all had chosen different passions,” you said half-heartedly.

“Well sweetheart, then none of us would have ever walked into your bar.” He pulled you into his side, placing a reassuring kiss on your temple and you sat like that for a while, just enjoying the silence and feeling a little better that you’d told him your fears, about the one thing that often kept you up at night. He eventually tugged you up after you let out a loud yawn, pulling out his keys and unlocking your door with the spare you’d given him a while ago… engraved lovingly with ‘Dagger Spare’, a teasing prod to his position within that mission all those months ago. “Let's get you to sleep, you’ve got an exciting day ahead of you.”

He waited on the edge of your bed while you got ready, his own mind swirling as he reflected on what you’d told him. Sure, he knew you’d probably be disappointed if anything happened to them on a mission but he was hung up on your emphasis on him making his way home to you. Of course he flirted with you relentlessly, how could he not? He had decided a while ago you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and not just physically, though his mind, and eyes, did wander. You weaseled your way into his heart about a minute after he met you, in awe of how you handled the busiest night in the bar on your own, still finding the time to banter with him and challenge him like you’d known him your whole life. But despite it all, he would never cross that boundary, never intentionally push you too far with his remarks for fear of messing up a friendship with the only person he’d ever fully trusted.

“You can stay, if you want.” You mumbled, emerging from the bathroom in an oversized Navy shirt abandoned long ago by Jake after a group beach day at your house, and your hair tied up in a bun. Truth be told, it was one of his favorite comfy shirts, but he just didn’t have the heart to ask you for it back when you wore it so much better.

“That’s alright, darlin’,” he said, standing and pulling back the covers for you to slip into bed. You smiled softly as you settled in, watching as he propped himself up with a hand on your headboard to look down at you, “have something I need to grab before I blow your mind tomorrow.”

“Is that so?” Sleep was tugging at the corners of your mind and Jake committed the scene before him to memory, you looking up at him through tired eyes, his shirt riding up your exposed thighs. He tugged the blankets over you before the sight pushed him to do something reckless.

“Mmhm,” he replied nonchalantly before grabbing your phone, setting an alarm and plugging it in for you. “Meet me on base at 8, have some safety stuff to go over with you before I can take you up.”

You nodded, pulling the blankets under your chin and snuggling further into bed. “Thank you, Jake.”

“What for, sweetheart?”

“For being you.” Your eyes were closed now and he knew it was only a matter of seconds before you were asleep. He couldn’t help but smile, ducking down to brush your hair out of your face and place a chaste kiss to your forehead.

“Sweet dreams, honey.”

-----

The morning air sent a chill up your spine as you rolled down your window and passed your ID to the Naval officer at the guardhouse just outside the base, verifying you were in fact given clearance for the day. He waved you through and you felt the nerves begin to settle deep within your stomach as you found an empty parking spot. You stepped out of the car, adjusting your tank top as you looked down and wondered for the tenth time this morning if yoga pants and a thin tank were an appropriate choice for the day's activities. You felt you looked more ready for a run than flying around in a multi-million dollar fighter jet but you just weren’t sure what was appropriate.

You tapped the temporary key card you’d been given at the doors entrance, easily navigating your way through base to the hanger. This wasn’t the first time you’d been here, having been added to several of the pilots' visitors lists at various times to sit in on training per their request, or to watch them teach a new round of Top Gun students a flight maneuver on the radar. Your heart warmed as you remembered just how badly they wanted you to be a part of all of this with them, as much as you could, sharing the pieces they were able to.

“There she is!” Bob said excitedly, making his way to you as you walked out into the open air of the hangar to wrap you in a bear hug.

“Hey Bobby,” you greeted, ruffling his hair and walking with him as he rambled on about how excited he was for you to fly. “Oh wow, whole team is here for this.” You said, approaching the group a little nervously.

“Of course we are, we’ll be watching on the radar the whole time and listening in,” Mav reassured you. Your eyes darted around, looking for your favorite pilot but you didn’t see him anywhere.

“He’s just grabbing something,” Phoenix said, noting your confusion. “Meanwhile, I’ve been tasked with suiting you up.” She tugged you off to the side as everyone else lapsed back into conversation. She grabbed the flight suit that had been draped over a nearby table, watching you slip off your shoes and helping you step into it.

“Aw, I’m Natasha Trace for the day,” you said as she zipped you in, noticing her name patch and smiling.

“Actually, no you’re not.” She smirked, ripping the patch off and tucking it into her pocket. Hangman finally made an appearance and as you rejoined the group you noticed he had a helmet tucked under his arm and he invaded your space to smooth a new patch onto the now empty space of velcro on your chest.

“You made me a name patch?” You asked, fingers ghosting over your name in dark green embroidery, Whiskey just underneath it. You couldn’t help but feel a little emotional that he’d gone through all of this for you, and it turned into a lot emotional when he revealed the helmet, complete with your callsign just like everyone else's. “You did not.”

“If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right. I meant it, you’re a part of this team.” He smiled down at you, reassuringly squeezing your shoulders. Phoenix snapped a quick photo of you holding up your helmet, saying it was just about the cutest thing she’d ever seen before all of the pilots filtered back inside to watch the radar. He guided you past his own jet, smiling as you looked up at his name in big letters on the side, to the jet he’d be borrowing for the day. “How you feelin’?”

“A little more nervous, feels a lot more real now than it did last night.” You admitted, and he noticed the slight tremble in your hands before taking them in his own.

“It’s going to be just fine, once we get up there you’ll forget why you were even nervous.” He reassured, strapping you into all the necessary gear and securing your parachute pack to your back. He helped you climb up the steps, holding your hand as you stepped into the jet and sat in the backseat. He began pointing out everything in front of you, all the little buttons and where you could see them on the radar, explaining that this was Bob’s domain in the jet.

“Do I have to do anything?” You asked, feeling overwhelmed taking in everything before you.

He shook his head, “not at all, none of this has anything to do with the actual flying, it’s for weapons control on a mission and making sure we keep in contact with the base.” You nodded, feeling a little relieved you weren’t going to be given any kind of task. “Now, this is the important part, sweetheart, you see these loops right here?” He asked, pointing between your feet, “these are for if we need to punch out.”

“If we need to punch out?” You asked, your eyes widening.

“We won’t need to, but I need you to know where they are. If I tell you to eject, you need to do it the second I tell you to, and you need to pull up on these loops with everything you have, alright?” He asked, eyes looking intensely into yours, looking for confirmation you understood and you nodded. “And this right here,” he gestured to a string attached to something he’d strapped you into earlier, “is connected to your parachute. As soon as you’re clear of the jet pull this and it will deploy and make sure you land safely. You don’t worry about the rest, I’ll take care of it when we’re on the ground.”

“But, all of this is hypothetical right?” You asked, suddenly envisioning having to blast yourself out of the jet and parachute down to safety.

“All hypothetical, darlin’, this is just a fun little ride, but you’ve gotta know the basics.” He reassured, placing a warm hand over your own.

“Putting a lot of trust in you here, Jake,” you exhaled nervously.

“And I don’t take that lightly.” He squeezed your hand, “I’ll be taking you to the old training area we used for the last mission, minus all of the crazy maneuvers and stress. Just easy flying, and a few little tricks.” You nodded, feeling reassured that you weren’t going very far. He began strapping you in and you grunted as he pulled roughly, making sure everything was tight before tapping the helmet in your lap, signaling you to put it on. “This is your mask,” he said, clipping it into your helmet, “it’s got your mic in it so you and I can communicate when it’s a little loud in here, as well as so all our looky-loos can hear us.” Before you knew it you were ready to go, and Jake was hopping into the front seat, getting himself situated.

“Ready, darlin’?”

“As I’ll ever be.” You peered around the seat, watching as he pressed various buttons, completely unsure of what he was doing but soon you felt the engine roar to life underneath you and the nervous pit in your stomach Jake had settled just moments ago returned.

“Hangman to range control, takeoff prechecks complete, how do you read?”

“Loud and clear, you are clear to taxi.” Surely enough you began to move, slowly pulling out of the hangar and navigating to the runway.

“You remember what I said, Hangman?” Mav’s voice rang in your ears.

“Couldn’t forget it, sir.” He confirmed and had you not been more nervous you would have questioned it, but all you were focused on was not throwing up. Jake began going back and forth with the tower, confirming all sorts of things that sounded like a foreign language to you, until it didn’t.

“Hangman, you are cleared for take off.”

“Here we go, sweetheart.” You could hear the smirk in his voice, and you wished more than anything you could actually see him instead of the outline of his shoulders in front of you, seeing his bright green eyes might give you just a shred of comfort. He pressed a few more buttons, and suddenly you were gaining speed down the runway faster than you would have ever anticipated.

“Holy shit,” you muttered, muscles tensing as you lifted off the ground, soaring into the sky and watching as everything below you grew rather small. You quickly rose in altitude, and you blinked rapidly, internally repeating over and over again that Jake would never put you in danger even though the sheer incline of the jet had you questioning everything.

“How you doing back there?” He asked, as if he could sense your tension.

“Oh you know, totally fine and normal.” You laughed nervously.

“We’ll level out in a second, just gotta reach the hard deck.”

“Not my preferred hard deck…” you muttered and you heard him laugh in front of you. True to his word, the plane leveled out and you relaxed a little, feeling brave enough to look at the world below you. You tilted slightly to the right, turning as you circled around the base and increased speed as you assumed you were now on the designated flight path.

“We’ll reach the training area in about 5 minutes where the weather is cloudless and warm, in the meantime please keep your tray table locked and upright and enjoy the ride.” Jake joked and it further eased you, the tension leaving your muscles just as quickly as it had settled.

“That actually wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.” You mused, watching as the ocean slowly faded into the distance and taking in the tan and rocky terrain below.

“See, told you, sweetheart. Take off and landing is the roughest part and even then it’s not so scary.” It fell silent as you continued to look around you, and even more so than earlier you wished you could see his face, you were almost certain he’d have a look of calm content and you wanted so badly to see that part of him. The part that was at home up here, but you’d decided this was more than enough. “Alright sweetheart, you see that ridge ahead? We’re going up and over, weight of gravity will be going against us a little but nothing too crazy, you’ll just feel a little pressure.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” You teased.

“That’s Lieutenant, Whiskey.” You heard Mav correct in your ears and you laughed, forgetting they could all hear you for a moment. Just as he’d promised, you quickly overtook the ridge and gasped a little as you felt the weight pulling you back in your seat and winding you before you surged forward in your seat.

“You okay?” He asked, and honestly? You were more than okay. You felt a rush of adrenaline as you regained your breath and you couldn’t help but smile as exactly what you feared had happened. You understood. “Whiskey?” He prompted when you were silent.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good, Jake. More than good.” He knew that tone in your voice like the back of his hand and a grin erupted across his features, a giddy feeling rising in his chest knowing you were now enjoying this.

“And there we have it, she’s officially a flygirl.” You heard Rooster in your ears and you laughed, loving that even though you were flying with Jake, you still had everyone by your side.

“Take your mask off for a second,” you heard Jake say and you did as you were told, pulling it off and letting it dangle to the side.

“No fair, I wanna hear!” Phoenix said and you giggled, interest piqued at what he didn’t want them to hear.

“You get it now, don’t you?”

“This is fucking incredible, Jake. I’m not even in control and I feel like I can do anything. I get why you love this so much.”

“I wanted you to experience this, but more than that I wanted you to experience this with me. This is everything, sweetheart. Everything I need, and everything I want right here in this plane with me.” He said and your heart skipped a beat at his confession, “I just wanted you to know that, you can put your mask back on.” You did slowly, mind reeling with what he’d told you. Everything he wants?

“Hey, Whiskey?” You heard Bob as he pulled you from your thoughts and your head cocked, affirming with a ‘yeah’ that you’d heard him. “Wanna do something cool?”

You laughed, “sure, why not?”

“Alright, on your radar, third button from the right will switch you to a terrain map, can you do that?”

“Are you sure you want me pressing buttons back here, Bob?” You asked hesitantly, but pressed it anyway.

“You can’t hurt anything back there, once you do that do you see the joystick to your left with a red button underneath?”

“Mmhm,” you confirmed, fingers ghosting over the hard plastic.

“That right there is controlling your laser, move that around until you find a target below you, once you have it hit the red button and it’ll lock it in.” You did as you were told, hearing a tone sound in the cabin as you locked onto a tree just ahead. “There you go, you just secured a target for your other teammates to swoop in and hit.” The tone stopped as Jake passed the target and you smiled to yourself.

“Careful Bob, I might just steal your position as Phoenix's backseater.” You joked.

“I’ll start figuring out how to make that happen.” Phoenix teased, and while she was no longer pressing the mic button you were sure Bob was protesting back on base.

“Alright my little WSO, do you trust me?” Jake asked and any nerves you’d once felt were gone, and just as he promised you weren’t sure why you were nervous in the first place.

“Yes.” You were sure and confident, and Jake’s chest swelled knowing there wasn’t an ounce of dishonesty in your reply. Before you knew it you were on your side, zipping through the air as Jake pulled out all the stops for you, veering from side to side as you couldn’t stop the giggles falling from your lips, and he decided right then and there he would never stop trying to get you to laugh like that.

He whipped up and over, making you gasp as you clearly saw the ground through the canopy, “Jake, we’re upside down.” You said, an obvious observation and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yes, yes we are sweetheart,” he chuckled, flipping you back over and continuing to show you his favorite flying tricks, you laughing like a little kid the whole time. You fully and wholly understood with your whole being why Jake chose this path, why they all did. Zipping through the air and maneuvering in ways that shouldn’t have even been possible flooded your veins with the most euphoric feeling, leaving you dizzy with excitement.

“God, this is amazing. You are amazing, Jake.” You said breathless as he righted the plane after a barrel roll.

“You think you’ve had enough?” He asked, sidestepping the way you’d breathed out the compliment.

“Never, but we can head back.” You answered, knowing you couldn’t stay out here forever. He turned the plane, going back the way you’d come over the now familiar terrain, adrenaline still flowing through you leaving a stupid grin on your face.

“Ah shit, what the fuck birds are those?” You heard Jake ask with a sigh, flicking buttons before you jerked suddenly, “Hangman to control, breaching the hard deck to avoid a bird strike.”

“Confirmed.” Your altitude dropped rapidly, Jake clearly ignoring warning bells that sounded as you dipped lower than you thought you would, him expertly maneuvering the rocky hills not as far below you as they once were. The tension slowly rolled back in, now knowing these were not fun tricks he was pulling out but ones to keep you both safe. He narrowly avoided clipping into the side of a ridge, and you tried to keep your reactions to yourself as he whizzed through the canyon.

“Get out of the canyon, Hangman.” Rooster sounded in your ears, making your heart rate accelerate knowing that you weren’t the only one concerned.

“Working on it, bird boy.” He shot back, and sure enough you were back above the ridges like nothing had ever happened. “Whiskey, you okay back there?”

“Mmhm, never better.” You replied a little shakily.

“Congratulations, you just survived your first bird strike.” The flight back to base seemed shorter than it took to get there, and before you knew it you were touching down on the tarmac, engine coming to a low rumble as you taxied back into the hangar. You felt like you were buzzing as the canopy lifted and Jake quickly detached himself of all his gear to be at your side and help you out. “Are the reviews in?” He asked a little hesitantly, knowing you might be shaken after your unexpected trip through the canyon.

“Jake I- I mean, that was…” you trailed off, not having the words to describe what you were feeling, watching as his brow furrowed above you, carefully loosening all of your straps. You didn’t know if it was the adrenaline, or being high above the earth giving you a new perspective but suddenly everything looked different. Felt different. His previous words rattled around your mind and it felt like something had clicked into place. He pulled the helmet off your head, his hand coming to smooth down your hair and he just couldn’t decipher the look on your face, gazing up at him with wild eyes. He gave you a little tug as he undid the last of your safety harness and when he went to pull away you gripped the collar of his flight suit, keeping him right where you wanted him. “Jake…” you trailed off, eyes searching those pools of green you could never get enough of. Your hand moved from his flight suit, fingers grazing along his neck as you settled on his jaw, holding him in your hands and you felt him clench beneath your fingers. He had no idea what you were doing but hell if he was going to do anything to stop you, eyes almost challenging you to make your next move and you pushed yourself forward, lips brushing against his.

It was all he needed to push you back into your seat, kissing you with the hunger of a man starved. You moaned softly against him as his hand rested at the back of your head, gripping gently at the base and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tongue brushing against yours. Somewhere in the back of your head you heard voices approaching but you didn’t have it in you to care, desperate to taste more of him.

“Hey flygirl, how are you- oh my.” Rooster stopped in his tracks as he saw what was going on just above them and awkwardly cleared his throat as Jake pulled away, lips swollen and a shit-eating grin taking over his features. “I take it you enjoyed yourself.” Your cheeks flushed, taking Jake’s hand as he helped you out of the jet, legs feeling like jelly as you all but stumbled down the steps.

You cleared your throat, “yes, I very much enjoyed myself.” Looking up at Jake the grin hadn’t worn off and you couldn’t help but laugh, feeling the adrenaline begin to wear off as you adjusted to being back on solid ground.

“Knew you’d love it.” Phoenix said, giving you a not-so-subtle thumbs up. The rest of the group now felt a little uncomfortable, not surprised but also not fully expecting what they’d walked in on and muttered some congratulations on your first flight and mentioning they’d meet you at the bar later before leaving you and Jake alone in the hangar. The tension in the air was palpable and you avoided his eyes, neither of you knowing quite what to say.

“Sweetheart, no wrong answer here,” he started after a few moments, “was that an ‘I’m hopped up on adrenaline’ kiss or something else?” You pondered your options. You could cop out and say it was the adrenaline, move on and pretend it had never happened, effectively preserving your friendship and ensuring you’d never lose him, or… or you could admit what it was. Admit that you were fooling yourself into thinking you were just friends with Jake Seresin, admit that in the dead of night and the solitude of your bedroom your mind did wander, did wonder what it would be like if you just crossed that boundary and let your feelings for him rush in.

“It wasn’t the adrenaline.” You finally said, looking up to meet his eyes and you saw the relief roll over him like a wave.

“Thank god.” He pulled you close and kissed you again, leaving you just as dizzy as you’d been thousands of feet in the air.

“Hey, Jake?” You asked, pulling away with a mischievous glint in your eye.

“Mmhm?”

“Take me home.”

-----

It was a clash of tongues and teeth as you stumbled your way through your house, Jake’s hands rough and exploring as he tried to commit the feeling of you beneath him to memory. Leaving a trail of clothes in your wake, he pushed you backwards into the bed a little harder than he intended and you giggled as your back hit the mattress, his kisses along your jaw much more tender than the previous action. His thigh slotted between yours as he leaned his weight into you, the pressure against your core coaxing a whine from your lips. He removed himself from your jaw, leg pushing up to give you more friction as he looked down at you as if you’d hung all the stars in the sky and the intensity of his gaze had you struggling to regain your breath.

“So beautiful,” he muttered, mostly to himself as his fingers ghosted along your cheekbone before pressing a delicate kiss to your cheek, then your lips as he continued his worship all the way down your exposed body, gently biting into the flesh and soothing the marks with his tongue as he went. He stopped just between your thighs, carefully kneeling at the edge of the bed and pulling you down to meet his face, taking his time kissing and sucking the soft skin just around where you wanted him the most. You writhed beneath him, desperate for something, anything, as he continued his dizzying assault on your senses. His eyes flicked up to your own, asking silently for permission as his fingers slipped under the lacy band of your underwear and you nodded, suddenly feeling nervous at being so exposed to him, already so desperate before he’d fully touched you.

The discarded scrap of fabric was tossed somewhere behind him as he hooked his arms around your thighs, holding you in place as his breath fanned over your dripping core causing you to shiver, “so beautiful,” he muttered again, pressing a kiss to your heat before licking a stripe up your folds and focusing his tongue to your clit. You gasped as he licked and swirled the sensitive bud, sucking it into his mouth as became desperate to taste more of you.

“Jake,” you moaned, the sound sending shocks straight to his cock and he didn’t think his name had ever sounded so good. He pulled away, much to your dismay that was voiced with a whine, before you felt him spit on your core, warm and dripping as he slowly teased your entrance, tongue reconnecting with your clit. He took his time, exploring you and exploring what made the sweetest sounds fall from your lips and your hips bucked as you silently pleaded him to stop teasing you.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” He made it clear that he had no intention to cease his teasing anytime soon, a single finger shallowly toying with your entrance as you coated him with your slick. You sighed when he fully plunged his finger in, searching for that spot that made obscenities tumble out of your mouth, stretching you as he added another digit, curling them just so. He focused his attention on you, watching as you lost yourself in the pleasure he was giving you, cock straining against his boxers and he quickly rid himself of them with his free hand to lazily stroke his length, desperate for some kind of friction as you made the most beautiful sounds above him. Your legs began to shake around his head as your release quickly began to approach, him abandoning his aching cock in pursuit of pushing them open when you’d tried to clamp them shut.

“Fuck, Jake, I-” you began babbling as your orgasm hit you like a freight train.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he mumbled against you, working you through your orgasm and lapping up everything you had to give him. He gingerly removed his fingers, tongue still working you as you twitched at the overstimulation coming down from your high. He kissed back up your body, settling on top of you and you kissed him desperately, tasting yourself on his lips and moaning as you felt him brush against you. You reached between your bodies, stroking his length as you lined him up to your entrance and despite everything his body was telling him, he paused. “You sure, sweetheart? We can wait.” You smiled up at him, knowing even as you were both lost in the passion of the moment, his top priority would always be making sure you were okay.

“Please,” you begged, “please, Jake.” He slowly began to sink into you, groaning into your ear as he bottomed out, giving you a moment to adjust. You wrapped your legs around him, moaning as the sting of the stretch began to ease only to be replaced with the pure pleasure of feeling full.

“So fucking tight, sweetheart,” he mumbled against you as he pulled almost fully out before sinking back in, desperate to feel the way you so easily accepted him again. He lifted his head slightly, hips bucking into yours and giving you a tender kiss before he quickened his pace, eyes meeting yours and you nodded at the silent question. His thrusts grew rougher as he threw one of your legs above his shoulder, the deeper angle making you throw your head back with a groan.

“Feel so fucking good,” you managed to get out between thrusts, only spurring him on more as he continued his relentless pace.

“So beautiful, taking me so well sweetheart,” he grunted, bringing a hand between you to circle your clit. You swore you were seeing stars as the pleasure overwhelmed you, the noises filling your bedroom nothing short of obscene and you began to feel the pressure build within you. You knew your second release was coming on quicker than the last and you intentionally clenched around him, trying to bring him there with you. “Fuck, do that again baby,” he groaned, dropping his head into your neck as you did and your nails scratched into his back, leaving red streaks in their wake. Your walls fluttered around him, body writhing as you came, his name falling from your lips like a prayer as you felt him twitch inside you and fill you with his cum. He placed tender kisses to your neck, working up to your jaw before peppering your face with kisses and coaxing breathless giggles from you as he slowly pulled out of you. He rolled onto his back, pulling you along with him and you settled into his side, head on his chest as you listened to his heartbeat slowly return to normal.

“Would have taken you flying a long time ago if I’d known this would happen,” leave it to Jake to take this opportunity to crack a joke and you just swatted at his chest.

“I guess I’m no better than the girls I tease at the bar… falling into bed with a cocky pilot.”

“Your cocky pilot.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead and you loved how that sounded.

“I love you,” you weren’t sure why you said it, the weight of the moment simply getting on top of you, but you heard his heart jump beneath you and wondered if maybe you’d spoken too soon.

“I love you too, darlin’.”

-----

Later that evening the Hard Deck roared with life, your friends excitedly buzzing about and rehashing your first flight.

“You handled that bird strike like a champ, I threw up the second I touched down after my first.” Phoenix said proudly, knowing you were more alike than Jake than you may have realized, knowing you would feel just as safe up there as you did right here.

“Not gonna lie, I did think I was gonna blow when we almost hit the ridge.”

“We didn’t almost hit anything, sweetheart,” Jake said cockily as he pressed a kiss to your temple, his arm wrapped snug around your waist. The group continued to chatter as you sipped your drink, pulling away from the conversation and leaning into the man at your side, humming in content.

“Hey, Jake?” You asked, looking over your group of friends before lifting your head to meet his eyes.

“Yeah darlin’?”

“This is everything. Everything I need, everything I want.”

#jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x you #hangman x you #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake seresin smut #hangman smut #hangman x y/n #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction

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mossdoesartshit · 1 month

Text

ITS THE SINNER ADAM BIT. GOD HELP. this will be long fair warning

-----

Adam had woken up to another relatively normal day in hell. Weird as shit birds chirping, screaming, and explosions rattled into his ears as he blinked away sleep. It had been a while now since he'd come to the hotel, and he still didn't quite know how to feel about it, but things felt... safe, for once. Not as safe as back in heaven, mind you, but safe enough he was feeling comfortable. He still had a lot of shit to sort out (most frustratingly, emotions about this entire ordeal), but anything to get back to the comfort of heaven, he mused to himself as he futzed his hair into a good enough shape, and the minimal requirement of clothes on.

He walked down the stairs to the main area of the hotel, trying to remember if he had to hang around the hotel the entire day, or if he could go try and find that milkshake place again-

"YOU. YOU FUCKING KNEW!" Lucifers finger pointed at Adam, snapping any sleep still remaining in his body

"huh???" came out of Adam involuntarily

"YOU KNEW LILITH WAS STILL AROUND, AND DIDN'T TELL US?!" Lucifer continued, Charlie quickly closing the gap between her and her now very angry father "Dad, come on-" "NO." charlie flinched

"HE knew your mother was around somewhere, HE knew of her whereabouts, and DID NOT TELL US. Still the spiteful prick, aren't you Adam!" it came out more an accusation than a question, anger in every possible core within him. Adam brought his hands up defensively as Lucifer continued. "YOU knew and didn't think to tell us? To tell CHARLIE, to tell ME?!" it was true that Adam knew about Lilith, very much unclear as to how Lucifer, charlie, and whoever else of the hotel staff were still around, but... "I thought you guys knew!" Adam tried "BULLSHIT" Lucifer continued even further "I can't even begin to believe you! You waltz in here, pretend all this happy good stuff about how you're TOTALLY getting better, and HERE THE FUCK WE ARE!" The corner of Adam's mouth twitched. As much as he could believe that everyone in the room knew what all he'd known, and as much as he could believe that asking who even told them would be a bad idea, he was getting irritated about the method in which lucifer was bringing this up. He HAD been trying his best and the accusation he wasn't brought further ire to it all

"Hey, dude, chill out a bit-" "CHILL OUT?" ah. "How can you even THINK to say that right now, ARE you even thinking?" well ouch. if it wouldn't've made the situation worse Adam would've been hurt by such a statement, all he really did nowadays WAS to think-

"I SWEAR to.... SOMEONE, SOMETHING, ANYTHING, you probably have been lying this whole time!! About everything!!"

something snapped in Adam.

without much thought, he grabbed a hold of Lucifer tightly and harshly, flaring his wings out as he snarled right into the former angel's face, only slightly registering the sounds of the others in the room either from shock or horror. Lucifer's hat fell, the little snake letting out a small squeak in surprise.

"Listen here, you Mother Fucker. You can call me a helluva lot of things, but fucking Liar. is NOT one of them. You have no idea the shit that happened after Eden, oh boohoo, you fell out of heaven, cool, whatever, do not pretend to know me enough though that id do such a fucking bullshit act as to lie. All my life, through Eden, through Earth, through Heaven, even now, I have been doing nothing but the fucking truth."

Lucifer stared up at Adam, confusion, vague horror, as he stared into Adam's glowing eyes. Not for fear of injury or pain, but... something else. Something that felt familiar. From all the way back in...

Adam shifted his gaze, up from lucifer, up from the floor, to... Charlie. She was clearly nervous, never having had to break up a fight between others. "Hey, Adam, I..." she tried, taking a breath, as she tried a confident smile, her hands trembling and her brows furrowing giving her even more away. "I know that probably hurt, but let's not hurt anyone ok? Take a deep breath, and we can talk this out ok? I-... I needed an activity for today anyway!" she chuckled nervously.

Adam hated this. Fuck's sake, he was just undoing progress. He bit his lip as Lucifer turned to Charlie a little bit, ever the faintest confused

"Whatever" Adam snarled, shoving Lucifer to the side, which Lucifer had not anticipated, and promptly kind of fell on his ass about it. "Do whatever, I need some fucking air"

He shoved his hands into his pockets in frustration, moving to walk away past everyone fast, as Charlie rushed to Lucifer's side nervously. From the corner of his eye, Adam could even spot Vaggie being a little conflicted. Funny, who knows how long ago at this point she'd've looked smug.

"Dad are you ok?" Charlie asked a little hurried, picking up his hat softly, as the little snake curled up. "I'll talk to him, don't worry, I..." she noticed Lucifer wasn't really listening to her, staring after adam, still in his head from earlier. Fuck. Right. Of course that felt familiar from Eden. He was a little shocked it took him so long to remember it. The shade of the tree as he'd stared up at Adam. Fuck. That was going to be a mess to talk about. And he knew, that the two needed to talk. He just hoped Adam knew it too

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delirious-donna · 9 months

Text

Who? [Kiba Inuzuka]

an: this is a repost of an old story I wrote for @tired-biscuit who we all know is the biggest kiba girlie on the planet. I've reworked it and added an extra 2k (sorry not sorry). Hopefully, it gets a few reads.

pairing: Kiba Inuzuka x female reader

warnings: NSFW, modern AU, friends to lovers trope, characters in late 20s, angst, toxic males (sorry Asuma, Obito, Itachi and Hidan simps!), pussy eating, blowjob after sex, unprotected sex, cum swallowing, biting and marking.

Masterlist

He eyed you with the utmost disdain.

Glowing amber eyes raked from the toes of your scuffed Converse to the brim of the baseball hat that peeked from under your hoodie. A sleek dark eyebrow rose, stern in admonishment of your haggard appearance and you could scream at him for it.

You knew you looked god awful—felt it too—but did he need to sneer quite so fucking openly? Even from the door of the coffee shop, you knew he was going to give you absolute hell, motherfucker couldn't help himself at the best of times. Some best friend he was.

Kiba Inuzuka appeared his usual well-put-together self, the epitome of the aloof bad boy that most girls had that annoying phase of wanting more than reason should allow. Sickening really, but you loved him regardless. Platonically, of course… of course.

He sat with arms crossed at your favoured table in the back corner, his arms tightly crossed over his wide chest and forcing the cotton of the black tee he wore to work to its limit to contain the muscles beneath. You spied his foot stretched out as he practically manspread in his chair, and the ominous tap of his heavy biker boot sounded like the tolls of a church bell as you walked toward him and your doom.

The strands of his chestnut brown hair were tousled in a sexy 'I just got fucked' style that was meant to look like he had rolled right out of whatever bed he had spent the previous night in. However, you knew the truth of it. That particular look took him a straight forty-five minutes to perfect each morning, and you were tempted to ruffle your hand through it just to piss him off more but you didn’t have a death wish–not today.

You always gave him shit for how long it took him to get ready in the mornings, many a time in your college years you had screeched about him being worse than the girls, and you were not wrong. If any of his floozies were to find out about his skincare regime their little airhead brains would likely implode from shock. Perhaps you should never have taught him that he needed to use more than bar soap on his face each morning, for the man owned more luxury beauty products than you did now.

"You look like shit," he offered with a shit-eating grin on his annoyingly handsome and punchable face.

The onset of summer highlighted the fresh dusting of freckles on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, and his usual sun-kissed skin darkened further from the abundance of scorching sunlight. Kiba was a true summer child, not something you shared with him as you opted to hide from the dangerous rays of the sun until the weather cooled into a more agreeable autumn temperature.

"Well, fuck you too, dickhead!"

You threw yourself haphazardly into the opposite chair, face screwed up from the squeal of metal on the polished floor and pouted.

"Could've at least bought me a drink. Not like you don't know what I like," you moaned sullenly.

Glancing over your shoulder you could see the line was almost at the door, and the thought of standing in it to get your much-needed fix of caffeine sounded like hell on earth. With your best puppy dog eyes, you rounded back to Kiba who was watching you fixedly, jaw set in a firm line.

"Oh no. I already stood in that queue, had to almost sell my soul to Satan himself to get the last apple danish. It's not my fault that you're so hungover that you can't face standing up for longer than a minute," he all but yelled at you.

Kiba was more pissed than you had expected, you must have really caused a scene for him to be this level of mad at you. Caffeine was your biggest weakness, and he knew it. Groaning loudly as you rubbed at your aching temples, you tried to replay the snippets of what you remembered from the previous night.

Anger snapped at your fingers. The burn of absolute fury had you rubbing at your chest in discomfort, and you well remembered the slap you had landed with the stinging pain that still lingered on your palm. A face you would much rather forget loomed into your mind's eye, tall and dark-haired. A cocky lopsided smile on his face as he tried to wave away your well-founded accusations.

Goddamn Obito Uchiha, he was the devil incarnate. Nothing but a cheating scumbag that had promised you the world but in the end gave you only hell and one heck of a headache.

You could recall the heated whispers of your girlfriends, the words that had curdled your stomach and caused your pulse to pound in your ears. Your boyfriend had been seen by multiple reliable sources engaged in acts that should solely be reserved for you. He had fallen back into the arms of his ex, and he didn't even have the decency to end things before he went and stuck his dick in her.

Sure, you could have handled things better, you knew that, but he had it coming to him.

"Kiba," you whined, "I know that I probably didn't do myself any favours last night, but you can't tell me that he wasn't asking for it? The bastard cheated on me! A slap to the face was hardly the end of the world..."

You fell silent whilst his stare iced over instantly.

The warmth of his amber-flecked eyes was gone in a heartbeat, cold fury descended over his face as he leant forward with his arms braced on the table. You couldn't help but admire the black ink that ran from his left elbow and slipped beneath the sleeve of his fitted t-shirt. His bicep flexed as he pointed a thick finger in your face.

"Are you serious? You think I'm pissed at you for throwing a piss poor slap at that self-centred prick?" he hissed through clenched teeth.

"Be quiet," he added as your mouth popped open to shoot back your reply.

"Course he deserved it, and the rest of what he got..."

You frowned at the ominous statement in confusion, suddenly eyeing his hands intently, and as you had suspected, the knuckles were raw and split open in places. That only ever happened when… Icy dread whispered down your spine at the unwelcome thought.

"What I am downright furious about is the scene you made after that slap. Don't you remember shouting your damn head off, screeching like a fucking banshee for 'that bitch' as you called her? Must have slipped your mind that you stormed right across the bar, literally pushing over your friends that just wanted to help and then threw up all over the pinball machine, yeah?"

You blanched, literally feeling the colour drain from your face as you did indeed recall flashes of what he spat at you so venomously. All you wanted was for the ground to open up and swallow you whole, instead, you raised your hands to cover your face, or at least, you tried.

A rough hand wrapped around your wrist and forcefully removed it from your mortified face.

"Uh-uh, I got more to say and you are gonna listen, so perk those little ears up mama. I could forgive you yelling like a lunatic and spewing your load, god knows I'm more than aware you're such a damn lightweight. What I cannot forgive is you running out the door and going fuck knows where!"

He was getting louder and you cringed.

It felt like a thousand eyes were on the pair of you, and it made the introvert in you crumble like a sandcastle being overwhelmed by the ocean. You had wondered why you'd awoken in your childhood bedroom, why the window was wide open and your dad was holding a baseball bat over his head as you emerged from the cocoon of bedsheets. Old habits die hard and sneaking in and out of your bedroom window proved to be one of them even though you had long moved out of your parents’ home.

Your mouth was drier than a desert, tongue heavy in your mouth as Kiba finished his tirade. He huffed through his nose like an angry bull, and with only the jut of his jaw, he silently demanded a response. The problem was, you didn't know what to say, surely you were out of excuses for the poor choices you had made. It seemed like this was a cycle you were meant to repeat from now until the end of time.

Step One – find a new boyfriend who would quickly become your obsession.

Step Two – Kiba would either know them already or meet them only to immediately disapprove and ask you to end things. Ask was putting it mildly too.

Step Three – you and he would argue like squabbling schoolchildren until one of you stormed out, resulting in a period of silence.

Step Four – said boyfriend would reveal his true colours in the most atrocious of ways and annoyingly prove Kiba right time and again.

Step Five – Kiba picked up the broken pieces of your heart and soul, glueing them back together with an ever-patient hand. Although he never failed to tell you, ‘I told you so.’

Repeat.

Shame burned in your chest, the feeling filled you from head to toe and it was enough to intensify the headache that crested through your brain like waves on a turbulent sea. All this and you had no damn coffee to at least take the very edge off your misery.

What could you say?

You had acted like a selfish brat with those actions, your friend had every right to be angry at you and it was only then you noticed the dark shadows that lingered beneath Kiba's eyes. You grabbed his hand and held it tightly in your own when he tried to withdraw, pulling it toward you.

"Please don't tell me you've been up all night cause of me?"

He shrugged and again tried to pull his hand free, but he didn't truly fight you. It was evident to both of you that if he wanted to retrieve his hand, he would be able to do so with ease. He grunted in reply and looked pointedly over your shoulder.

Fuck!

"I'm sorry," you whispered with a slight hiccup, fighting the flow of tears that threatened to spill upon the bougie-looking rustic tabletop. A fingertip traced a gnarled knot, it grounded you and kept you from completely losing it.

"Kiba, please. I'm sorry, it won't happen again. I know I've said that before but I mean it, I do, I promise. No more idiots and no more making an absolute fool of myself."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

His tone had returned to a more amicable level, with a smirk unfolding on his lips and you knew that the worst of the storm was over.

Worry had been at the core of his fury, not knowing where you were until you had texted him upon waking at your parent’s house. Frantic fingers flew across the keys whilst listening to your dad's yells of indignation about how you should have used the damn front door instead of climbing in through your old bedroom window.

This really was the straw to break the camel's back.

It was exhausting, the emotional toll enough to have you curled into a tight ball on most nights. True that the highs were intoxicatingly good, but the lows were soul-suckingly abysmal. It was time that you stopped endlessly chasing around after men who were never worth your time and effort. Maybe if you stopped searching, the right man would find you instead.

"I'm done, I promise," you reiterated with a steely determination in your eye.

Kiba tipped back in his chair, assessing your words and finding them to be genuine. His normal goofy smile manifested and it was like the first ray of sunshine you had seen in weeks. He truly was the best friend you could ever ask for, and when he stood with a sigh, you realised you couldn't love him anymore.

"Caramel macchiato?"

Or could you?

–

Kiba had known it wouldn't last, it never did, so why would this time be any different?

The trouble was that he adored you from the tip of your sharp tongue right down to your uncoordinated feet that stumbled and fumbled no matter how hard you tried to keep your balance. The pair of you had been friends since your schooldays and you were both prominent figures within your wider social group. What he didn't like about you, and was not quiet about, was your god-awful taste in men.

You couldn't help it, you were downright adorable so of course, men were always gonna be drawn to you, but did you have to pick the worst scumbags imaginable? He had never believed that one person could get it wrong over and over without at least learning some kind of lesson. It must be some kind of imbalance in your brain and it was astonishing, to say the least.

Over the years you had gone through phases, such as the bad boy stage where you swore blind that you could reform idiotic womanizing players like Asuma Sarutobi. Everyone and their grandmother knew that Asuma could not keep his eyes, and hands, off the ladies. It was never going to matter how many times in a day you fucked him, he was destined to stray and stray he did.

Kiba was there to pick up the pieces, to reassure you that it was most definitely his loss, and no, he didn't think you needed to lose any fucking weight! Why would you even think that? He didn’t always understand women and the fascination with weight was his biggest bugbear.

Then there was the sophiscated phase which he referred to as the smugly quiet phase. Itachi Uchiha was only a few years older than you but damn did he act like he was a motherfucking elder. The condescending smiles, the little tuts and eye rolls at what he deemed to be childish acts and that low almost monotonous tone that spoke volumes about his feelings, or lack thereof.

Again, Kiba had warned you off but you chose to ignore him as usual.

Instead, he waited until Itachi sat you down and told you abruptly that you were too immature for him, effectively breaking your heart in all the time it took him to blink those feminine-looking long dark eyelashes of his. Kiba was there for you to cry upon his shoulder, to wipe your snotty nose and assure you that you were not immature, that dude was just an old ass fuddy-duddy.

Obito had simply been the latest in a long line of utter morons, and part of him had desperately hoped you would keep your word this time. The one thing he was glad about was that you had never dated within your friendship circle, though it hadn't stopped some of the guys from trying.

You would never know about the times he had forcibly taken aside the likes of Naruto and Shikamaru, the muttered threats of mortal wounds and outright death if they so much as dared to touch you. Kiba was always met with nervous chuckles, reassuring pats on the shoulder and hastily sworn oaths that they would keep their distance. Shikamaru had even looked downright pleased with himself, as if he knew something that Kiba didn’t and that encounter had lingered with him for a long while.

It had been a good month since you swore 'til you were blue in the face that you were done chasing men, a record for you but it had all come tumbling down when Hidan entered the fray.

Hidan–a dude who swore he had no last name. Seriously, who did he think he was, the goddamn pope? Perhaps he should have taken that final step much like Prince had done and changed his name into a symbol, it certainly wouldn't have made him any more pretentious.

The man clearly thought he was the next messiah and Kiba had taken an instant dislike to him. This time it was different and he couldn't shake the fear that gripped his heart. Worry gnawed at him, the sense that his guy was more than capable of drawing you into things that could endanger you. The saying goes that you should listen to your gut and Kiba took that very literally. His every instinct screamed of danger and put him on high alert for trouble.

Weeks had passed since you two first started dating and although he desperately wanted to teach you a lesson by giving you the usual silent treatment until you snapped, he refrained. Something stopped him, a niggling doubt that poked him at the most random of times. He wasn’t about to let something befall you on his watch, he’d never forgive himself if it did.

Instead, he watched much like a predator would, assessed this cocky-ass male and learned his weaknesses. Kiba knew Hidan hated to be called out on things, his word was law in his mind and that just grated on the Inuzuka to the worst possible level.

He remembered well the night that Hidan had cornered him as he left the bar restroom, his fist thundering into the wall next to his head in an attempt to intimidate him. It didn't take much for Kiba to snap, yet he managed to hold on to his composure this time. Fought to retain his sanity tooth and nail because he would not play into Hidan's hands, for this was a game to him.

"You wanna fuck her, dontcha?"

"Killing you to know that it's my dick that she sits on each and every chance she gets, huh? Cock hungry little slut that she is."

The inflammatory words had been like grenades exploding behind his eyes, what an utter cunt he was for speaking about you in such a derogatory manner. Kiba had stuffed his white-knuckled fists deep into his pockets, biting his tongue and pushing away from the sneering male without further incident.

In hindsight he was shocked that he had managed to keep it together and not outright punched the fucker–he wanted to–but then again so had Hidan. It was a part of his plan to isolate you, to keep you from your friends and family so that he could steal all your time and attention. He was the definition of a toxic male.

Manipulative fucker!

The Inuzuka drained his beer and let his head fall back against the couch cushions. He was at his wit's end, there was no plan to swirl inside his rampant brain that seemed likely to work.

How long had he ignored his feelings for you?

Too long was the answer. He doubted you were ever going fall into his arms as he wished, but he satisfied himself with being your ever-constant rock. If he could not have you, he would make damn sure that whoever was lucky enough to steal your heart treated you like a princess.

It hurt his heart, but it was better than the emptiness that came with the alternative.

Tired eyes looked towards his phone that was buzzing incessantly on the couch beside him, he palmed the device and looked at the screen to find your name illuminated like a beacon in the darkness of his lounge. He schooled his features although he knew you could not see him and answered the call.

"What's up?"

–

You were a dumbass.

There was no other way to describe how dense you were when it came to your love life. You had to wonder if you had a sign above your head that attracted the absolute worst of mankind to swarm you like insects. Was there something wrong with you? Were you actually a bad person who didn't deserve to be loved?

You made your way to the apartment you knew as intimately as your own.

Feet carrying you ever forward, speeding you towards comfort in the arms of Kiba. He would make it all better, wouldn't he?

For once, you didn't know if he could. There were only so many times you could be knocked down before you could no longer get back up and it was getting harder and harder to find your feet.

Tears threatened to fall but you refused. Curling your hands into tight fists until your nails sank into the flesh, close to puncturing the skin but not quite. It grounded you and kept the tears at bay. How long it would last, you weren't sure.

The ache in your chest eased as Kiba answered the door with worry prominent on his features. Pinched brow and pristine white teeth gnawing his lower lip in earnest. Even before you could step inside, he was reaching for you, dragging you into his strong embrace and wrapping you in his essence.

You sank into him willingly, inhaling his musky spice-infused scent until you were filled with it. It felt like stepping into a perfectly hot bath after a long exhausting day, the tension from your muscles draining away whilst you sagged against the chest that rose and fell in harmony with your own. Kiba wrapped one arm wrapped around your lower back, a thumb rubbing against you in soothing motions whilst the other cradled your head and let you settle into his broad shoulder.

Why couldn't all the men in your life be like this?

Kiba accepted you for who you were and had no interest in changing you into something that would better suit him. His soul was filled with warm light, you saw it through the amber flecks in his eyes, the adorable dimple appearing on his right cheek when he smiled broadly and through his caring actions.

"Tell me everything babe," he cooed softly into your mussed hair, ruffling the strands with his breath.

Where to begin?!

You spent the next hour filling in your longtime friend with every dreaded detail from this afternoon, sipping cautiously on a beer that he offered you once seated on his squishy leather couch. The last thing you wanted to do was succumb to alcohol, but one would settle your nerves you reasoned.

"I knew that guy was a motherfucker," Kiba hollered from the kitchen.

Rolling your eyes at the sheer joy that laced his gravelly tone, you turned to find him bent over searching the fridge aimlessly. His tight butt swayed in the hold of his black jeans, it was such a nice backside and if you were in a better mood you might have tiptoed closer to give it a good hard smack. He’d deserve it.

"Mr Kiba 'I knew he was a motherfucker' Inuzuka. Can't you ever give me a break?"

It hadn't bothered you this much when he first said it, but the more you repeated the words, the more fury infused your veins. It hit you like a tidal wave, turning you from weepy sadness to burning anger in less than a minute.

You popped to your feet, pacing back and forth whilst your fists clenched and unclenched at your sides. Wary amber eyes followed your movements, closing the fridge door with a hard thud that made the magnets rattle. Magnets you had gifted that asshole. The grim set of his jaw was back, irritation so quick to line his features until you were both scowling at one another.

"The fuck? Why have you always got to be so fucking high and mighty? You ain't perfect either, you know!" You were yelling now, raw emotion burning your throat and turning your body into a literal inferno.

"High and mighty? You gotta be joking me. Watch your damn mouth, my patience will only remain for so long. I suggest you calm the fuck down and sit down as well!"

He was making it worse, where was his usual compassion when you stormed like this?

"Or what Kiba? You gonna chuck me out?" You snorted through your nose and missed the flash of pure rage that flitted through his blown-wide pupils.

All six foot two of him towered above you, so close you could feel the heat roiling off his body and licking at your flesh. The back of your legs caught the edge of the glass coffee table and he was grabbing at your upper arms in an instant.

You gasped when his fingers dug into the meat of your arms until you almost yelped out for him to stop. Head tipped back and heart thundering from an evil cocktail of anger and bitterness, you straight up growled at him like a dog ready to lunge and attack.

"When are you going to open your fucking eyes?" he whispered, low and so very dangerous that the hairs on the nape of your neck prickled to attention.

Too wrapped in your own negative emotions, you failed to comprehend his words fully. Oblivious to the storm of desire that was rapidly rising to the surface in the male fixing you in place. You ignored his words and spat more venom at him in an attempt to get him to release you.

"When was the last time you even got laid Kiba? Haven't seen any of your airheads flouncing about in forever. They made me sick to my stomach with their simpering eyes out on stalks, drooling over you like you were some kind of fucking god."

He let go in a moment of startled surprise as your words found their mark, and you stormed towards the door only to have your wrist captured in a rough hand. Kiba pulled you back to him, the tug was so forceful that your chest bumped into his and your free hand flew to the wall of steel that was his chest in an attempt to balance yourself.

"Jealous?" he seethed, lowering his face until you were practically nose to nose

Had you been in your right mind, you might have taken a moment to process that incredibly loaded question and see it for what it actually was. Instead, your primal instincts found themselves firmly in the driving seat as a war cry pounded in your ears and a tightness grew heavy in the pit of your stomach.

You snatched your hand back and grabbed two fistfuls of his stupid tousled chestnut hair, pressing yourself onto your tiptoes to reach his wickedly curled lips.

This was no soft kiss, it was cruel and punishing.

Lips met, teeth gnashed and snarls sounded from both of your throats as Kiba reacted in kind. His hands were not gentle as he cupped your face, one hand stealing into your hair and wrapping it around his fist. He pulled, forcing your throat to strain taut and ripping your mouth away from his with a hiss.

White-hot fury veiled your vision in red. His sharp almost fang-like incisors sank into your vulnerable neck, harsh and selfish as he marked you for his own. Greedy lips followed the exquisite sting of pain, sucking at the skin indented by his teeth until the entire area would be bruised and tender to the touch when your sanity returned.

You didn't know what made you say it, the words were out of your mouth before you took note of them.

"Seems like you've been the jealous one.” Kiba froze against your frantic pulse point.

His eyes were positively feral, the pupils almost entirely swallowing his normally warm amber irises. Cheeks dabbled in rough whiskers from the late hour and the tendon from neck to collarbone straining from exertion. Kiba levelled you with a dangerous stare and you couldn't help but look away to admire his forearms instead of succumbing to his piercing gaze. The sleeves of his open shirt rolled to the elbows–a look that had you weak at the knees at the best of times–and the strength in those corded muscles was obvious to your appreciative eye.

"That’s right, m’gonna make you forget about those stupid assholes that didn't know what a treasure they had. Their loss is my gain. If you want this," he pointed to himself to emphasise the point, "if you want me, then come get it."

Without a backwards glance, he stormed to the island in his kitchen and left you there… alone and bereft of his overwhelming heat. Kiba stood with his lower back resting against the counter, one ankle crossed over the other and his arms folded as he watched you. His muscled chest heaved with every laboured breath, cheeks ruddy from the kiss you’d shared and there was a more than subtle bulge on the front of his jeans.

Did you want him, your best friend Kiba?

Hell yeah, you did!

Annoyed by your own oblivious stupidity, the puzzle pieces clicked together in your head. Kiba was downright sexy, his physique godly and a face that was both rugged and angelic depending on his mood. He was funny, a total goofball who made it his mission to keep you laughing until you were clutching your stomach and begging for mercy. A social butterfly who ensured he gave his friends equal attention, he knew every birthday and often was the ringleader of group outings and meetups.

He was your Kiba.

The person you relied upon most in the world, your constant and when you tried to imagine a world without him, it stole your breath until you were crippled by the agony. Had you been jealous of his idiotic little girlfriends? Yes, you always wanted to be the centre of his universe and they distracted from that. You had tried to mask it as a dislike for his taste in women but most of his exes had been perfectly nice if you had given them the time of day to get to know.

It was clear, that you wanted him.

You ran.

Four long strides and you threw yourself into his quickly outstretched arms. He caught you –of course, he did –bearing your weight with practised ease as you wrapped around him like climbing ivy. Hands fisting into the t-shirt that lay beneath his shirt as you found his mouth once more, sought to reclaim it and make your intentions crystal fucking clear.

This time the kiss was more tender, yet the passion was still as ardent and heady. His wide hands roamed your hips until he was kneading the meat of your ass through your pants and making your lower half grind against him in sinful bliss. The zipper of his jeans pressed against your centre through the layers of clothes and you moaned openly into his mouth.

Kiba was famished, he swallowed your lewd noises and was quick to incite more as he turned to perch you atop the counter. His hips rolled into you, languid but forceful whilst he explored the wet cavern of your mouth. Your tongue rolled over his in an erotic dance that had no end in sight. If not for your necessity to breathe, there would be no parting you and only the shared oxygen in the space created by two friends that finally breached a line that had been long held and now threatened to either tie them together or pull them apart.

You tugged expectantly at his clothes, desperate to strip him to your gaze and finally, he relented. Kiba pulled back long enough to tug off his shirt and tee, discarding them haphazardly. His warm breath fanned your cheek, stuttering when your cool fingers stroked and detailed the definition of his torso.

"Eager little thing," he growled. The smile he sported only served to highlight the ego that was often to focus of your teasing. Yet, this time no humourous jabs came to mind. For once you were glad of his self-confidence and eagerness to move things along.

He divested you of your oversized hoodie, thankful you had taken the time to put on a nice bra beneath it despite the mess you had been in earlier. His groan was heaven to your ears and when he dove to kiss you through the sheer material of your bralette you thought you had died right there and then.

Saliva dampened the already thin fabric, those dangerous wolfish teeth nipping at your pebbled buds. With your head tossed back, he used that wicked mouth of his on your breasts and you were unprepared for the piercing rip that flooded the hushed space. Kiba had torn clean through the garment, the halves falling down your arms to lay destroyed on the floor.

"Kiba!" you half yelled, half squeaked as he took that exact moment to suckle your nipple between his plush lips. Your belly quivered, the pulling sensation more intoxicating than the most potent alcohol and the feeling echoed far more intensely between your trembling thighs. Your fingers carded through his lush hair, nails scraping against his scalp and smiling indulgently at the rumble deep in his throat.

"I'll buy you more, promise baby. Lay back, need to get you naked," he said sounding entirely as drunk as you felt.

For once you were eager to follow his instruction, a novelty for Kiba who merely watched with a knowing look that promised he would deliver of your wildest fantasies if you’d just fucking listen to him, at long last. His eager fingers hooked into the waistband of your leggings and were quickly dragged down your supple legs. Slowly, he eased his calloused fingers back up your bare legs, stopping to toy with the back of your knees and listen to the subtle gasp caught tight in your throat.

Funny how you had thought he would be rough and impatient, the deed almost over with and the finish line hurtled towards at inhumane speed when here he was taking his sweet time. It was maddening when all you wanted was for him to feel the searing heat that was radiating from between your thighs, to dip his fingertips against your panties and know how drenched they already were from the mere prospect of being with him.

As if sensing your thought process, Kiba finally parted thighs whilst you rested backwards on your elbows. A low appreciative hum caught your ear and you shifted your focus to the tight grip he had on his bottom lip, teeth sinking deep and the wide flare of his nostrils like he was scenting you as an animal would do. He planted your feet and pushed your knees to the sides until you were splayed out like a cat in heat. It was vulnerable and so exhilarating you couldn't help but wriggle.

His eyes were glazed over when he, at last, moved to touch your panties, zeroing in on the obvious damp patch and letting his head roll along his neck for a second as a visible shiver passed up the length of his spine. You’d swear he appeared like those cartoon characters that have zapped with electricity, near every hair on his body rippling from the sensation.

"Have to taste you, sweetheart. My pretty fuckin’ girl."

A chaste kiss fell to your lips before he began a slow tortured path down your body, stopping here and there as he learned the spots that made you tremble and shake, noting carefully when you would whine and try to cling to him. Smug smiles and smears of his saliva were painted upon your heated skin, and he let loose a triumphant bark of laughter when you whimpered your impatience.

"Please," you mewled, a hand pressing atop his head to hurry his descent. Forward was not something you were familiar with, shyness always overtaking your urge to express your wants, but with Kiba, you knew there was no need for any such concerns.

"Tell me exactly what you want and I’ll deliver."

You could cry at the bubble of pressure that was desperate for release, sitting just below the surface, if he would just touch you.

"Wan’ you to fuck me with your mouth, need it so bad Kiba! Please–"

The last syllable had barely left your mouth before he was diving for your centre, underwear pressed aside as he nudged your clit with his nose and inhaled deeply. One roughened pad explored your slick folds, collecting the nectar and pressing it into his mouth.

His sigh was purely reverential and he settled down to devour you like a starving man sat before his first meal in weeks. It was all too much, the immediate stimulation intense enough to have your toes curling where they now rested down his broad back.

Kiba laid languid swipes of his molten tongue along your slit, alternating between flickering motions against your engorged pearl and slow circular patterns around your sopping hole. The walls of your cunt fluttered, desperate to be filled and clench around something–anything–and when his finger slipped easily inside you bucked wildly.

“Shh, keep still. Lemme hear your pretty voice but gotta hold still, yeah?” He encouraged, mouth only moving far enough way for you to hear his heated request.

It took mere minutes for you to come apart on his mouth, his digit sucked deep as he stroked your slick, spongy walls and suckled at your clit to almost pain. Your legs were limp from the unrelenting waves of euphoria that raced throughout your body and if not for the grounding palm caressing your thigh then you might have passed out there and then when white sparks shot straight through your vision.

Kiba didn’t spill a single drop of your nectar, the wet insistent muscle rolling into your cunt over and over to simply dig more of the delicious juices from your quivering body before he stood with the lower half of his face glistening in your essence. It felt… empowering. The intense lust that blazed in his eyes, a lust that was for you and no one else. Fuck. You loved him. Had for a long time. Why had you taken so long to see it for what it really was?

It wasn’t the time to get stuck in your head like this, there would be moments for these thoughts and what lay beyond but right now, you weren’t entirely satisfied and you wouldn’t be until you had milked the man looming over you for every drop he could deliver.

With renewed vigour and determination, you propped yourself on your elbows and then lunged forward towards the buckle of his belt. You’d never worked so deftly as you worked to unbuckle him, moaning at the loud metal clattering loose. Buttons worked free and zipper pulled down, the waistband of his underwear came into sight and your fingers curled around that final barrier and released with him an audible gasp mingled with his sigh of relief.

You had known he was going to be well endowed, could feel it from the press of his body only earlier, but it was still a shock to see him in all his glory, and what a glory it was. His length was impressive, but it was his girth that was the true beauty–if you could even call such a monster a beauty. Kiba's cock could barely support its own weight, the angry length tipped to a deep purple with precum leaking from the slit under your scrutiny.

It looked enormous in your petite hand, managing to encircle the shaft but only just did your fingertips meet. You stroked his velvety soft skin, paying attention to the stark veins that stood to attention and how Kiba reacted when you traced over the most prominent with a salacious smile. You scooted towards the edge of the counter, eyes locked with him with every deliberate move you made.

The head kissed against your glistening folds and you teased both of you by running the blunt tip along your slit until it bumped against your clitoral hood. His fingers were gripping the edge of the counter so tightly you feared he would crumble the marble under his strong hands if he wasn't careful. You notched him at your slowly pulsing entrance, and on a breathy keening noise, you pleaded.

"Fuck me Kiba."

You knew that he had snapped when an animalistic noise roared from his throat and the death grip moved from the counter to your hips as he pushed into your cunt. Kiba eagerly watched your walls suck him in, utterly drunk on the silken feel of you in much the same way that you were drunk on him. Every drag of his shaft rubbed delicious friction into your most intimate areas with a precision he shouldn’t yet possess. He was made for you and you were made to take him.

There would be a time for slower moments and tender loving making, for you were sure that Kiba was not going to escape from you, not now. He was yours, and you his. This alone had you urging him on, driving that feral side of him to act and do it hard and fast with nips at his lips and nails clawing down his back.

His hips pistoned like a well-oiled machine, and sweat clung to his forehead as he set a pace that saw him pounding into your pussy. A relentless rhythm that matched the pound of your heart, clammy skin on skin and kisses that acted better than any drugs ever could.

"This what you wan’? Hungry for my cock, huh?"

His words were staccato with every thrust that he delivered, your body jerking with the wild and powerful movements. Your head fell back against the counter as moan after decadent moan left your throat. Kiba's tight grip moved to your waist and he began to pull you onto his length, your back sliding against the marble top making your tits bounce and your ass slap against his pelvis. Every drag of his shaft against your walls made you keen for him, full to capacity but craving more nevertheless. He was using you like his own personal fucktoy and you were creaming around him at that knowledge, the lewd squelches of your bodies joined in this way growing louder and louder.

"Tell me. Need to hear you say it, kitten."

"Oh… fu-fuck! Need your dick, feel so good–ah!" You screamed when Kiba leaned over you and altered the angle of how he was driving into you. His mouth sucked possessive marks onto the sides of your breasts as you used the last of your hastily retreating sanity to again fist his hair and force him even closer to you.

"Tell me I'm better than those other motherfuckers. No one can fuck you like this, nobody else is worthy of this beautiful pussy," he growled, breaking from your hold to allow him to press his thumb against your clit and making you jerk at the sudden unsuspecting touch.

"Kiba–best. Gonna, oh god–m’so close. No one but you."

Your brain was a puddle, the ecstasy too much for full coherent thoughts as you felt the gush hit against his groin. You soaked him in your juices, the wet noises crescendoing whilst stars winked into your vision.

"Such a good fuckin’ girl, oh shit. What a beautiful mess you've made on me," he cooed in praise, slowing his pace but never stopping. He had to be close; your walls desperately trying to milk him, to force his release in kind.

Slowly, you returned to the earth, oversensitive from each measured stroke that he delivered until he pulled from you and wiped the sweat from his brow. He fisted his shaft as you watched, tears springing to your eyes at being denied his release.

"Wanna come down your throat, think you can manage?" he asked, his eyes burning into yours as he pumped himself.

Your thighs were shaky, the skin slick with the spill of your arousal but you managed not to fall to the floor. Kiba steadied you with his free hand, groaning in his throat as you knelt before him. His head fell back when you parted your lips and accepted him into your wet mouth.

The taste of his essence mingled with your own, sweet and bitter but definitely not unpleasant. You had never done this before and it felt so wicked as you watched Kiba come apart above you. He could barely maintain his eye contact with you, heat surging to his cheeks and his hands cradling your head in gentle reverence.

His hips jerked, your fingers sinking into his ass that flexed beneath your touch as he kissed against your throat. The muscles constricted and he faltered. "Oh fuck, so close sweetheart."

Your teeth unsheathed carefully, tongue running the length of the litany of veins that ran his shaft and teeth grazing his sensitive flesh until his fingers seized and you felt the hot spurts of his release. It poured down your throat until you pulled back, the rest pooling on your pink tongue.

Kiba panted and whined, losing himself in the moment and the feel of your scorching mouth, chest heaving with each laboured inhale. You showed him the milky seed that coated your tongue, watching his eyes roll to the back of his skull the second after you swallowed audibly and opened up to show your now empty mouth.

The seconds ticked by and neither of you moved as your breathing slowly returned to normal. How gorgeous he looked to you, spent and blushing. The massive frame of his body–Kiba’s body–completely undone by your actions and your body.

"That's one way to get over Hidan," he groused, trying to turn from you.

You were not going to allow him to step away from this, two hearts were on the line and you refused to see him in pain. You stood abruptly, possibly a mistake given how your thighs quaked but not giving a shit at the moment. You pulled him back to you, arms resting over his wide shoulders and placing a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth. Pouring every bit of love and desire into your expression, you fixed him with a sincere smile and watched his eyes widen and soften, the creases smoothing out to reveal his true self, the one you were intimately familiar with.

"Who?"

#delirious writes #kiba inuzuka #kiba x reader #kiba smut #kiba angst #kiba x you #kiba

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