#like it goes by so fast in a gif you'd easily miss it in the blink of an eye

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Nightfall (3)

Vampire! Billy Russo x Female Reader

Part 1 // Part 2

Warnings: Bickering, spanking, biting, consumption of blood, oral (M receiving), implication of dark themes (such as the buying/selling of humans for blood), reader goes undercover as Billy's 'pet'.

A/N: Overall, the themes are a little darker than I tend to write. I'll try my best to be as honest as possible with the warnings.

You shove him back, hand wrapping around his throat as if you could ever conceive of doing any real damage to him. His expression is blank, eyes pinned calmly on you.

"You filthy fucking bloodsucker." You hiss out through your teeth, contemplating the actions it would take to bury a stake into his heart.

"Keep talking. Makes me hard." He sneers.

You almost consider spitting in his face. He'd had the nerve to describe exactly how he'd buried his hand into Ethan's chest not a minute after you'd driven away from him last night. 

"He was my friend." You grit out, hand tightening on the column of his throat, you reach for the dull knife on the coffee table beside you, bringing it up to his neck.

"Planning to tickle me with that?" He taunts as you shove him further back, until your full weight is propped onto the hand pressed around his neck, your thigh pressed right between his, forcing you to straddle his leg. 

Unbelievably, you feel his hand grip your hips, holding you securely in place as if he wants you as close to him as possible.

"I can do some real damage with this." You warn, voice low and enraged, trailing the knife slowly down the column of his throat, "Don't you know dull knives hurt more?"

His lips part, his chest drops a little as if the breath in his lungs has escaped him.

"The only thing hurting me," he whispers, "Is that you're not naked."

You take the time to press the tip of the dull knife into his skin. It would take a lot more force to puncture his neck, but doing so meant you could shred his throat easily. You wonder if that would even slow him down.

Your mouth curls in disgust, pulling away from him and sliding off his body quickly. You ignore the little wet spot your cunt has left behind on his pants, still being dressed in just his shirt.

There’s a tense moment of silence, the smell of delicious chinese food in the air- he’d ordered it for you while you were asleep so that there would be food available for you not long after waking. You’d only been a few bites in when you’d asked about the last time he’d fed, and he’d revealed to you what you’d already known was true, that he’d left Ethan’s body in a dumpster, missing a heart.

“You’re sick.” You whisper, facing away from him. Ethan had been trained alongside you, saved your life just as much as you’d saved his, and Billy had killed him because he’d dared to touch you.

You feel Billy behind you now, not worrying to think about how fast he’d just moved.

You huff when you feel his hands glide over either side of your hips, fingers twitching as he holds you firm.

You try your hardest to hate it, to feel disgusted by his cold hands on you, but all you feel is flutters, in your chest, your stomach, and somewhere lower.

“From the minute I put my hands on you, I knew you were mine.” He says. You squeeze your eyes shut, mentally rejecting the words.

“I know you can feel it, the way I do when I’m not near you,” he continues, drawing closer till his voice is just in your ear, “Like there’s no air in the room, unless you’re here.”

“You’re deranged.” You gasp out, feeling his hands tighten on your hips.

“You call that boy your friend, but you forget that I saw the whole thing. You didn’t want him touching you, and he did anyway. Is that not a good enough reason to tear his heart out of his chest?”

“He touched me. Not you. It was my situation to handle.” You retort.

He’s silent for a long moment.

“You’re right. I let my anger get the best of me.”

“Thank you.”

He pulls you back suddenly, till you’re pressed against his front securely, his nose running gently against your neck, one of his hands rise to tug your shirt collar down, till his face is pressed to the scar of his bite on your shoulder.

“Don’t mishear me. I’m not saying I’m sorry. Believe it or not, but I’ve been in that position, and I guarantee you, that if it’s not you, it’s someone else.”

You feel him kiss your scar, tingles spreading over your body. You’re deep in your own thoughts, thinking about his words.

“You’ve been in that position?” You echo his words, mind fuzzy with his attention.

“Mhm,” He hums, open mouthed kisses roaming your neck, “Wasn’t as strong as you either. It’s why I’ll always stand up for those who can’t stand up for themselves.”

You suck in a deep breath.

“But you’re a vampire.”

He spins you around, arms gripping your shoulder, eyebrows pulled together.

 “You’re still thinking like that?” He utters in disbelief.

“Well, you haven’t really given me anything else to work with.”

He huffs, taking your hands in his and pulling you back to the couch.

“Okay, come, let me explain.”

You follow easily, and when you try to sit beside him, he eagerly pulls you into his lap. You huff, rolling your eyes as you try not to grind your wet centre against his thigh. He watches you, as if he can hear every thought.

“Believe it or not, vampires are very much like people. There are good, and there are bad.”

When you open your mouth to voice your opinion, he grabs the back of your head quickly, pulling you into him to lay a scalding kiss against your lips. His body might be cool to the touch, but he makes you sizzle anyway.

Heavens, he kisses like sin, plump lips owning whatever parts of yourself were still unclaimed, now his fully.

“Why don’t you let me finish, and then you can ask your questions.” He suggests, forehead pressed to yours.

A smarter side of you would argue, protesting his need to feed you what was most likely a lie.

You swallow, nodding your head hesitantly, feeling your body heat up with the memory of the things he'd done to you last night.

You look away from him, trying to get your thoughts together.

"We don't have to, I can always just lay you back right here and lick you to my heart's content."

You groan, clenching around nothing, acutely aware that being this close to him is making your head spin.

"Shut up and talk, Billy." You say with a pained hint in your voice.

He raises his eyebrows, his lips pulling into a slow grin. Thankfully he doesn't comment on your contrasting words.

"Okay, so as I was saying, from a moral perspective, vampires aren't that much different compared to humans. Realistically, if we killed someone every time we fed, more people would know about us."

"That's still a parasitic existence."

"The next time you interrupt I'm going to spank you."

You groan, clenching around nothing for a second time.

He explains it to you like you're a child, carefully arguing that the creatures of the night weren't all monsters, that they were a still budding society trying to figure out the logistics of existing.

"You sound like children." You interject.

Billy doesn't hesitate to draw his hand back and slap your thigh, watching you hiss in pain, that then quietly bleeds into pleasure, to your embarrassment.

"For most of human history, the number of vampires have only been in the hundreds. Now, we might have hit only a couple of thousand. The number of people that humans have killed vastly outweighs the number of vampires that exist and you still want to accuse us? Can't you see that the way you've been taught to think about us is flawed?"

You huff.

"Why is it so important that I believe what you say?" You ask, and it earns you another loud smack to the curve of your ass. You shut your eyes for a moment to fight the urge to rut your hips on his thigh.

"I'm trying to show you who the real monsters are. The ones that hide in the shadows and pull the strings, the ones that sell their own kind to the highest bidder of ours. These are people you should be hunting, little girl, not the fledglings that want to dance in clubs and feed from unsuspecting humans."

You open your eyes, blinking at him.

"You're saying there's something bigger at play?"

His hand comes down on your other asscheek. He grins when you glare at him.

"Yes. Your organisation trained you to kill the first vampire you see, making us all out to be monsters, but it's just not that simple. I can show the real monsters if you want, and let you-"

He cuts off, and after a second, he grins at you.

You look at him quizzically.

"You're so wet, I can feel it soaking through my jeans."

A low groan of annoyance leaves you, and you raise your hips, in an attempt to get off of him.

He’s not having it, gripping your hips firmly and pulling you back onto his thigh. When you struggle, his arms wrap around you, bringing you even closer, one hand settling low on your back, and then tugging your shirt up to grip your ass tightly. He holds you in place till you find that you are unable to even move an inch.

You study him intently as heat flushes through your system, eyes tracing the scars that line his face.

His eyes are dark, decisive, your eyes flit down to his lips, the sweet curve of them making your tongue feel heavy in your mouth. The shape of his beard urging you to rub yourself against him, the memory of his mouth between your thighs coming to mind.

You let out a slow breath.

“As I was saying, I can show you the real monsters,” He says softly, the air growing charged between you, “And let you decide what you want for yourself.”

You could barely remember why you were even fighting him, the magnetism of his form was too strong for you to resist.

“I’ll think about it.” You whisper, tilting your head to the side, and leaning into him slowly.

At the very last moment before your lips touch, you pause.

“Wait.” You whisper, pulling back.

You feel his hands tighten around you.

“What?” He bites out, lips parted so you can see just the smallest hint of his fangs.

You try to ignore his snippy attitude, and resist rolling your eyes lest it get you into more trouble.

“The thing you said… about choosing mates? What’s that about?”

You watch his lips part, to take a slow breath in.

“It’s something vampires do. Sort of, like an imprint- a voluntary imprint.”

You blink at him, horror washing through your body.

“You- imprinted on me… willingly?” You try to draw away from him, and he resists your movement, hand tightening on your bare ass subtly.

It brings you back to where you are, half naked on his lap.

“Yes.” He grits out, “When I first tasted you, I claimed you as mine.” 

You fight him harder now, pushing against his chest.

“Claimed me? Don’t I get a choice?”

Billy huffs.

“You came up to me in that club- or don’t you remember?” He says, and you can see the clear anger in his features.

“You didn’t even know me!” You protest, finally getting enough leverage to wiggle out of his lap and to a stand on shaky legs.

He grits his teeth, tilting his head and watching you move away from him.

“The imprint might be voluntary, but it doesn’t work unless we’re compatible.”

“You’re sick.” You respond quickly, not even thinking.

He closes his eyes slowly, rolls his neck. You worry for a moment that his need for you has just expired. 

Would he kill you? If he didn’t get what he wanted from you?

You swallow, eyeing him steadily.

He stands, walking past you without a second glance.

“Eat. I’ll take you hunting tonight.”

“Wh- what if I want to leave?” You ask softly.

He stops at the doorway, looks down before turning his head to the side. You study the scar on his cheek.

“They’ll kill you if they catch you, just to get to me. And if they hurt you, I’ll scatter their body parts across the state.”

You gulp at the imagery.

.

It was more irritating to you that he was giving you space.

He’d gone from keeping you in his arms, to not touching you at all and it made you seethe with all the hatred you had for him.

You hadn’t left- because you knew your organisation, and you knew Billy was right. They’d try to kill you the second they found you, if only to prove a point. Especially now that you knew for sure that Ethan was dead.

You pause while applying your mascara, sucking in a deep breath. Someone had dropped off a small duffel bag of supplies for you at the door, and Billy had slid it into your hands, telling you to get ready, you’d be going out in an hour.

He’s checking his watch when you emerge from the bathroom, dressed in jeans that fit you surprisingly well and a baby pink crop top.

His eyes scour your frame, face stoic as he makes his assessment.

“Ready?” He asks.

You only nod.

.

The heat of the club was familiar to you, an abundance of bodies so close together in one small space, moving under the soft neon lights.

You’re following his large frame, trying to keep an eye on the olive shirt wrapped around his shoulders, fighting each dirty thought about him that crosses your mind.

He’d looked good, to your annoyance, and you were wondering how long it would take for him to touch you again.

The answer was not very long at all, because when the crowd gets too dense, he reaches behind, extending a hand for you to take.

His hand is rough in yours, cool to the touch, undead and owning it and you feel your heartbeat kick up at the casual way his hand grips yours.

You didn’t like him, definitely not.

You weren’t too distracted by him to notice some of the other vampires in the club. You catch them in your peripheral vision, eyeing you both up, no doubt your scent packing a metaphorical punch to anyone with an advanced sense of smell.

"Easy baby," Billy whispers into your ear, fully knowing that anyone could be listening in on your conversation, his hand smoothing over your shoulder and down to the small of your back.

"We'll have our fun soon enough." He continues, his voice in your ear sending sharp waves of want down your spine.

If he notices your response to him, he doesn't show it, simply guiding you to an open seat at a secluded booth in the club.

He'd briefed you in the car on the way here, explaining that the objective was to be invited into the back rooms where the questionable conversations happened. All he’d been hoping for, was an idea of where the location for the next big meeting might be.

“The real shady conversations don’t happen in nightclubs, they happen in the back rooms of libraries or secluded five star restaurants that cater to our specific… diet.” Billy had explained.

That had made your stomach twist into knots at the idea that there really was something worse at play, made you want to do anything possible to put a dent in it.

He sits at the booth, and like you’d discussed in the car, you sit quietly beside him, body stirring with thoughts of what he’d said he’d do next.

“I’ll put you on my lap, I need them to think you’re my pretty pet. They’ll do anything to try to convince me to share you.” 

When he pats his thigh, you do what you know he wants you to. You move slowly, crawling into his lap, straddling his hips.

It brings you face to face with him, and there’s something of a silent conversation going on between you.

Though his hands are on you, gripping your body tightly, and very inappropriately for anyone to see, there’s a distance to the expression on his face that stings.

You study his scars, his eyes closing when your noses brush.

You think about the imprint he’d confessed to. You wonder what it really meant, that maybe you weren’t at his mercy as much as you’d initially thought.

After a moment, you roll your hips against his, body igniting when you manage to feel hints of his thick erection through your layers of clothing. 

He pins you with his red eyes.

It sends ripples of pleasure through you.

You didn’t know what you wanted, not even sure if it was him, with his sharp jawline and thick hair, and the scars that sit on his face, someone’s attempt at making him less beautiful gone awry.

All you knew, that in this moment, you were searching for a higher purpose, a reason for being in your current position that wasn’t just because of him. Because what kind of person would that make you? If you genuinely enjoyed being with him after the things he’s done?

After a long moment of looking into each other’s eyes, he takes a deep breath, gripping the back of your neck to bring you closer so that his lips brush your ear.

“I can smell how wet you are. Is that all for me?”

He’d know if you were lying anyway.

“Yes,” you whisper, “I need you.”

He hums, the sound goes down, all the way to your aching clit.

“If only you’d worn a skirt,” Billy continues, “I could have had my cock inside you from the minute we sat down.”

You don’t suppress your reaction, sighing in need, clenching hard around nothing.

Although this was just a performance, you realise it’s not so hard to actually act.

You pull back a little, so you can look down at his mouth. You clench again at the memory of sitting on his face.

His fingers tighten on the back of your neck, warning you that someone is approaching, your debauched act finally prompting someone to come near.

“Pardon me,” The feminine voice says- a vampire you realise- and you resist looking over at her, “but I couldn’t help but overhear your problem, and would like to extend an invitation to our basement lounge to you.”

Billy pauses, seeming to ponder her words, you attempt to ‘encourage’ him by leaning in to place kisses on the smooth column of his neck.

You feel his hand tighten on the back of your own neck imperceptibly. 

“Private rooms?” He asks.

You both already know the answer before she says it.

“Not completely, but more private than this.” She says, no doubt pointing out the wide open area of the dancefloor where anyone could see the both of you.

“I’m not sure if I’m interested.” Billy responds, making sure he doesn’t look too eager to follow her.

You keep kissing his neck, running your tongue up to his earlobe before continuing your kisses, feeling the vibration as the woman slides in beside Billy.

You pause for a second, looking over at the woman, makeup done perfectly, brunette hair falling gracefully as she moves, before Billy turns your head away, a silent urge that as his pet, his conversation was none of your business.

He’d warned you about it before, that people would speak about you like you weren’t there and playing along was necessary. You could do that, you’d played hundreds of roles before when hunting, this was just another character.

The character you were playing right now, was an empty, aching little hole. Someone eager and willing to go along with anything her partner says as long as it made him happy and got her ache satiated at the end of the night. You’d pulled inspiration from your own life for this role.

“She smells so sweet.” The woman says, to Billy in a soft voice, “Surely you don’t want to enjoy her here out in the open where you can get interrupted.”

“And I’m sure that following you is going to have a price of its own.” Billy murmurs, and you squirm on his lap a little to give off an air of impatience.

Despite your aversion to him, you’re forced to admit to yourself that you enjoy sitting in his lap. This role of needy girl coming naturally to you, because you wanted, and you wanted and you wanted him to give.

“Honestly, I’d love a little taste.” The woman confesses.

“Hear that, pet?” Billy hums, fingers sliding into your hair to pull your head back so that your eyes meet his, “This one wants a taste. What do you think?”

You think she’d look nice with a stake buried in her chest.

You flutter your eyes, giving him the look of eager obedience.

“Whatever you want, sir.” You mumble.

Billy’s dark eyes give nothing away.

“Perhaps I can share a mouthful with you, but on my terms.” He says, and you smile as he continues to look into your eyes.

He’d also warned you that he might have to bite you at some point. He promised he wouldn’t let anyone else.

You trusted him. You could see it in his eyes, that maybe the idea of letting someone else touch you had been out of the question from the very start.

“We have a deal.” The woman says, standing easily, and waiting for Billy to follow.

You’re wobbly on your legs, too drunk on your own lust for him, the way he holds your hand, silently pulling you along.

You almost forget the real reason you were here, lost in wondering how he would take care of you later tonight if you’d let him.

On the way down, the woman introduces herself as Petra, Billy gives his name, and no one even mentions you. It makes you a little irritated, that you were being treated as that much of an object, but it didn’t really surprise you. They were vampires after all.

You don’t ask where you’re going, following easily, memorising every hallway and door, making a mental map in your head.

She guides you down a flight of stairs, so narrow that Billy’s shoulders brush the sides of either wall. At the bottom, is a short hallway that stops at an iron door. 

Three sharp knocks, and the door cracks open.

You can feel the pulse of the music, emphasised by the lighting in the room, it’s like a dull thrumming, echoing the need inside of you, much slower and more erotic than whatever is playing in the club upstairs. 

Inside is like a large cavern, the walls give off an impression of being somewhere underground, with rough rock walls and lighting fixtures jutting out.

The room is filled with secluded booths, sheer drapes to hide the bodies within, the low light accentuating the writhing figures of people dancing inside, no doubt putting on a show for their partners.

“Nice place.” Billy says, he doesn’t scan the area like you do, using senses beyond your comprehension to make his observations. He gives six squeezes to your hand- one per vampire in the room. 

Six, if you had to fight your way out, things would be a little complicated.

Billy slides into the booth easily, his fingers still laced with yours, guiding you. When he sits, you settle beside him. Almost instantly, his hands are on your hips, pulling you onto his lap, making you straddle him.

You look down, feeling a little vulnerable in this position, arousal settling warmly in the spot between your legs.

“She smells divine,” Petra hums, interrupting your debauched thoughts, sitting in the booth at a respectful distance away, “You promised me a taste.” She reminds him.

“Of course.” Billy says, but when she inches toward you, he raises his hand to stop her from moving any closer.

His hand smooths over the top of your head, your eyelids fluttering at his attempt to calm you, he grips your chin gently, tilting your head to the side.

You close your eyes, your neck tingles, your mind preparing itself for the pain of it.

There’s no fear, just acceptance. You’re almost eager, from the last time he promised he’d bite you. 

He takes a deep breath at the crook of your neck, hands wandering to your backside to keep you still.

You try to relax your body as much as possible, knowing that resistance made it hurt more.

His tongue glides over your neck, and then his fangs press against your skin.

Billy somehow manages to find a way to be gentle about it, he presses in fast, keeping steady as his fangs penetrate your neck.

Delight floods your system for a moment, sparking through your body from where his mouth is latched to your neck. You can’t help the small hum of surprise that leaves your throat. Surely, bites weren’t supposed to feel this good?

It pinches next, and then it stings. You close your eyes and breathe through it, experiencing the pain, letting it move through every cell of your body.

Then, the throbbing begins.

Your neck pulses, as if your body’s suddenly noticed that it’s been breached, and is trying to process the intrusion.

You whimper in pain when he raises his head, freeing his teeth from your skin, the most painful part in your opinion.

His mouth remains latched to your neck, you feel him take one big mouthful of your blood, and swallows. His grip tightens on your ass and you can only imagine what you taste like to him. He only pulls away after he takes a second mouthful.

You watch, peeking through your closed eyelids, as he beckons Petra closer, his fingers under her chin as he seals his mouth to hers.

Something ugly rears its head inside of you. An anger that wasn’t there before, burning as you watch their lips lock, as he shares your blood with her. 

She moans into his mouth, pressing forward, and you watch, with blood trickling from your open wound, as she glides her tongue into his mouth.

All you can feel is hate. When he finally pulls away after what felt like hours of watching them kiss, she chases his mouth, but he braces one arm on her shoulder to stop her.

You couldn’t figure out why you were so upset, it wasn’t like… like you wanted him. Right?

“I need more.” She says, leaning in, now red eyes flitting to you, and to the blood dripping slowly from your neck.

Billy keeps her at bay, glancing at you for a moment.

“Pet,” he says easily, moving his hand off your ass and fishing in his pocket for a hankerchief to present to you, “Why don’t you put some pressure on that for me.” He inclines his head at your wound.

You nod, taking the soft white material, and pressing down to stop the bleeding.

“Please,” Petra begs again, “She’s delicious, you need to bring her to an auction we’re having next week. You have no idea how much she’s worth.”

His eyes are dark when he glances at you, seemingly deep in thought.

“I really could use some more blood, I can’t feed from her all the time.”

She jumps at Billy’s admittance.

“Exactly, you could get ten bodies with the amount of cash you’d get for her.”

When she leans in further, Billy’s hand drifts to wrap itself around her throat.

You can see that she’s too taken with your blood to focus properly, her eyes are glued to your neck despite the hold Billy has her in.

“Where is this auction?” Billy hums, with a tilt of his head. When she doesn’t immediately respond, trying to fight to keep the secret for as long as possible, you entice her by pulling the piece of fabric off your wound.

You’ve long since stopped bleeding, but the cloth has enough of your blood on it to loosen her lips easily.

She speaks the time and place in a very soft breath, that not even you can hear, all you can see from the corner of your eyes are her lips moving, and after a moment, Billy nods in understanding. 

“I’ll think about it. Now leave. You promised me privacy and you’ve already had your taste.” He pushes her away, releasing the grip on her throat. 

She catches herself as she falls back, and with a sour look, she backs off, leaving you alone with each other.

Did you have to kiss her? You immediately want to ask, but with the knowledge that anyone can hear your conversation, you can only roll your eyes at him, and lean away.

You know that technically, you’re supposed to be locked into an intimate embrace with him, but you can’t bear the thought of kissing him after watching him kiss someone else.

You needed to find a way to make this believable on your own terms, and you also didn’t want to actually fuck him either. You’d had enough of being vulnerable for the night.

Without thinking too much about it, you reach for the button on his jeans. 

His hands reach to stop you, a silent exchange passing between you. He raises his eyebrows in a 'What are you doing?' type of way.

You both knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt that you couldn’t very well just leave after getting the information you wanted, it would look too suspicious. Something had to be done, and this is what you’d decided on.

You bite down on your bottom lip, deep in thought, watching his eyes drift down to your mouth, and when you reach to undo his pants again, he doesn’t stop you.

You shuffle back, tugging at his jeans and working his boxers down until his cock is exposed to you.

He's almost at full mast, and his indecent exposure and the implications of that succeeds in bringing him to full hardness. 

You feel something twist inside of you, a pleasure racing through your body at just the sight of him.

You wanted to do this, for yourself as much as for him.

Shuffling back, you keep your eyes on his, slipping easily onto your knees between his parted legs.

When your knees hit the ground, you watch his eyes flash red momentarily.

There’s nothing to be said between you. You can’t convey to him that you’re only doing this because any of the alternatives mean opening up to him, and that’s the last thing you feel like doing right now.

Right now, all you want to do is take from him.

So instead, you lean forward, and wrap your lips around the head of his cock.

His cock is so fucking good you have to fight the moans that rise so easily within you.

Your eyes flutter shut, leaning forward even more, tongue roaming over his tip.

You hear a sharp intake of breath, and you reward the sound by taking him deeper.

It feels so right to have him in your mouth, heavy against your tongue, the head of his cock is smooth, and you're intrigued by the sensation.

You reach for his hand, the one that's got a death grip on the soft cushion beside your head. He releases the couch on your insistence, and you encourage his hand to grip the back of your head.

He grunts out what you think is an expletive, and you pause, raising your head to look at him.

His eyes are dark, the scars on his face look downright devilish in the low light, and you want him to use you for his pleasure, so that you don’t have to feel bad about wanting.

You can tell he’s hesitant, for the very first time you see him pause in his pursuit of you, dark eyes unsure, that is, until you begin to lick gently at his tip.

Teasing him with small touches of your tongue, you watch the darkness grow and grow in his eyes, until he finally takes control- gripping the back of your head harshly.

Your mouth falls open at the sensation, obedient to whatever he wills. You move easily as he pulls your mouth back onto his cock.

He takes it slow at first, guiding the movement of your head up and down on his cock, pushing you down a little deeper each time.

You suck a little- because for all the control he has- you’re in charge here.

“That’s a good girl.” He hums lowly, guiding your head. You hum in response.

It feels good to give him this, feel him filling your mouth so rhythmically, your cunt weeping for the attention he gives your mouth.

You push farther than his hands guide, taking him to the back of your throat. Your body isn’t prepared for the intrusion, and resists, forcing you to pull away with a gasp. 

Tears in your eyes, you look up at him in apology.

His lips are parted, licking at his bottom lip, he grips your hair harshly, and pulls your head up.

You grunt, scalp tingling for a moment as he pulls your body taut between his legs, leaning down until his lips are pressed to your ear.

“You have no fucking idea what I want to do to you, little girl.” He whispers in your ear.

You swallow, cunt squeezing around nothing.

You wanted to hate him. 

You wanted him to use you however he wanted.

You don’t say anything, and when he pulls back to look at you, you make sure he can see the fire in your eyes.

All he does is smirk, and pull your head back down to his cock.

This time, he’s rougher with his motions, guiding your head faster, till your jaw begins to ache but you refuse to give up, wanting to taste his cum, the way he tasted your blood, to have a part of him, just like he had a part of you.

His hands tighten in your hair, a warning, you suck rhythmically, using your tongue to stroke the underside of his cock.

You hear his breath catch, before he’s pushing you down on his cock. You squeeze your eyes shut as he fills your mouth with salty cum, his cock pulsing against your tongue, and you do your best to take everything he has to give.

You don’t swallow immediately, pulling your head off of his cock, you look up at him, parting your lips and sticking your tongue out to show him the evidence of his release.

His eyes flash red as he watches you swallow his cum, appreciating the salty taste of him, before opening your mouth again to show him that it’s all gone.

You breathe deeply, gazing at each other for a long moment. His hand slips from the back of your head, cups your cheek gently.

“I can smell how wet you are. Let’s go home. The things I want to do to you I can’t do here.” Billy says softly, and you nod, getting out of his way so that he can stand and tuck his cock back into his pants.

When he’s done, he extends a hand to you, which you take easily, rising to a stand.

When he leans in to kiss you, you turn your head to the side to avoid his lips, still upset at seeing him kiss another.

He pulls away, a stony expression on his face as he guides you out of the secluded booth.

You grab the handkerchief with your blood on it, tucking it into your back pocket, making sure there’s no evidence of your blood left behind.

Billy nods at Petra on his way out of the room, and you keep your eyes fixed to the floor like the pet you’re supposed to be.

.

.

.

[starphasedd]

Egon

(Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader)

Rating: 18 + for violence and explicit smut.

Synopsis: A small confession leads to something completely unexpected.

Notes: As promised!! I'm super proud of this guys! I think I captured Simon quite nicely. I am new to the fandom, and still reading lore. Feel free to correct me on anything you see wrong. Egon is actually the codename for my OC Ema 'Egon' Swann. This fic started with her, but as to not be selfish, I made it more inclusive by changing it to the reader perspective! I hope you enjoy!!

Word count: 8k+

AO3

Egon. 

German, by nature. Meaning "strong with the wind" 

That was the nickname the men of task force 141 gave you. 

They had many reasons for this name. You were fast–agile on your feet. Small and clean. It was hard for any enemy to catch you, or even see you coming. You were strong too, for a woman of your size. You could easily take down a man twice your size with the techniques you studied and used over the years. But their main reason for giving you this nickname was for your sharpshooter skills. No matter the conditions, you always made your shot. Rain, thunder, wind. You never missed. No outlying factor kept you from doing your job. 

That's what gained you the respect of task force 141. 

You've known these men for a while, having been asked to join the team just over two years ago. In that time, you got to learn the boys well. All of them respected you and treated you as their equal–something you worked so hard for. Being a woman in this field of work is challenging, even for some of the strongest ladies you know. That didn't stop you from doing your job–which impressed Price when he worked with you on a mission before he asked you to join the team. 

It was a mission in New York City, where you were a part of the NYPD task force. The lead was mafia related and Price's team was called in to assist. Your captain at the time knew it was a risky job, and he needed devoted and dangerous men to help him take their leader down. You along with a couple of your own comrades fought side-by-side task force 141 and pushed through a successful mission. 

Everything after that is history. You left with Price and his team, never looking back. 

These men are your family now, and you love every single one of them in your own way. Price and Gaz keep to themselves most of the time– Soap is the one you'd definitely call 'brother'. You and him have the best dynamic. He's goofy and chill, and you adore that about him. Inherently with him comes his Lieutenant, Ghost. A man you haven't really been able to get a read on since you met him those couple years ago. Yes, of course, it's mainly to do with the fact that he wears that damn mask twenty-four-seven. But he also isn't the most personable guy. He speaks when he needs to, and fights when he has to--but he hasn't really gone out of his way to get to know you–even though you and Soap are practically attached at the hip. 

Being close to Soap means he typically picks you to go along with him and Ghost on missions. Which you don't mind. When the three of you get split up, the commlink keeps you all close, figuratively. 

One of the things you and Soap bonded over was your mutual adoration of music. You didn't have the best childhood, and music was your escape. It appeared Soap used music to his comfort as well. So, when you're on missions but split apart, Soap keeps in your ear either spatting off random lyrics of songs, or requesting you sing to him. Much to Ghost's dismay–who has to listen to you two banter about why you don't like country music, or why Soap can remember so many random lyrics. Ghost keeps quiet, and you wonder if you get on his nerves. He's the type of guy to speak his mind and the fact that he hasn't said anything yet suggests he may…be okay with it? Who knows with that man.

Ghost keeps close, but far away at the same time. He treated you like an equal, and always made sure he had your six. The same thing goes for you. Granted, the giant, pure muscle of a man never really needed your help. You were always there for him. Over time, he seemed to soften on you. He would use your real name on occasion. He got worried sometimes when you didn't answer his comms right away and would scold you once you were all back together.

'Fuck woman, answer the bloody comms when your superior asks for your status.' He would gruff in that deep British baritone. 

You would never admit it, but something about that man set your body on fire. His size, his voice, his attitude. Fuck, his attitude alone. He exudes confidence and experience without being cocky. There's nothing quite like a confident man–a man who knows what he wants and can take it whenever he wants….but doesn’t. He was always looming over your shoulder, watching you intently through the holes in his mask. Soap would comment on it every now and then, making fun of the Lieutenant for not being able to keep his eyes off you for a moment. You didn't think it was that serious–you convinced yourself he was just watching you for your own safety. As any good teammate would. 

But then the subtle touches started. You would feel his large hand splaying over your lower back as he walked beside you up the copter ramp, almost as if he was guiding you. Of course it never happened if someone was around to see it—he made sure of it. But it would happen more frequently. They were genuine, and gentle touches. And completely innocent. Being a woman, you had an intuition for men's intentions–since you dealt with them your entire life. Ghost never set any alarms off. You always felt safe with him.

You trusted him with your life, and you hoped he felt the same about you. 

He was cold and calculating—mysterious and quiet. Though he showed those small, intimate minstations to you and you alone, you tried not to think too much into it. Ridding yourself of the disappointment before it reared its ugly head. You often thought about what he looked like under that mask. You've seen his eyes countless times. They were brown like freshly ground coffee. He had blonde eyelashes that stuck out amongst the black paint he smeared right there. He had a strong, chiseled jawline. Sometimes you can see a few prominent veins through his mask when he tightens it. His neck is strong and thick, no doubt riddled with scars from his many years slaughtering men. 

You imagined what his body looked like too. He's a big man, standing almost an entire foot taller than you. He had thick, broad shoulders and a puffy, muscular chest. Even when he wore one hundred pounds of gear, you could still see how fit he was. His waist was thin and strong, he had a certain swagger when he walked that always caught your eye. His forearms almost looked fat, they were so fucking thick with muscle. He was covered in huge protruding veins on both arms–they were even visible on the arm that was covered in tattoos. And his hands always made you blush. They were twice the size of yours, and you spent many occasions watching his big fingers work the trigger on his guns like a thread. He was nimble, and agile there. 

You wondered what they would feel like–if they would grip your throat with delicacy or fierceness. If they would roam down your neck and swallow your breasts in a warm squeeze. If they would trail your curves all the way down to your ass and nead the soft, pillowy flesh there. If they would tease you–circling around that sensitive bundle of nerves until you were weeping for him. If they would pump you, fill and stretch you out until you were ready for his cock. Or would he even give you that decency and instead, take you unprepared in a hot, lustful frenzy? 

It's all human nature, you suppose. It's natural for a woman to be sexually attracted to a protector like Ghost. It goes back thousands of years–it's all instinct. That's what you tell yourself after you cum on your hand thinking about your Lieutenant. When that wave of unfiltered shame and guilt rushes over you following your high. 

_______

"Egon, how copy?" Comes that familiar gruffy voice. 

You jump slightly, shuddering out of your thoughts as you neel against the abandoned brick building. Your rifle in your left hand, fingers tight on the trigger. 

"Jesus, Lieutenant–awaiting target. No eyes yet." You grunt out, face heating up in embarrassment. He always knew when to catch you off guard.

"Eyes on the prize, sergeant. Stay focused." 

You scoff, eyes rolling as you adjust your stance slightly. It's dark, the only light you have to use coming from old, orange colored lamps hanging from the buildings. To top that off, it's been raining all day so it's doubly hard to see far in the distance. Even with a scope. 

"Easy for you to say, Lieutenant. I'm out here freezing my ass off and you're inside a nice warm building." You mumble into the mic. 

"Punishment for not listening to your superior." 

"Bite me." You retort. 

No response. You grin. Any opportunity you get to fight back at the Lieutenant scolding you, you'll take. 

A few minutes in silence go by as you wait patiently for your target to come into view. You have a black mask covering the bottom half of your face, leaving only your eyes and forehead exposed. A heavy leather hood covers your hair. Soft pelts of rain dropping keep you focused in the moment. Your tactical boots are worn and wet, holes from misuse letting water in to soak your socks. The harness tied around your waist and thighs is digging into your pants, which are rubbing and chafing your skin. Your back hurts from being on your feet all day, and your head is pounding. You usually get headaches when it rains. You are so fucking ready for this day to be over. 

You stay steadfast nonetheless. Eyes focused on the door the target will be coming out of. 

A few more minutes go by in silence when you hear the comm start to buzz, indicating someone was about to speak. 

"Why can't orphans play baseball?" 

You can't help the cheeky grin that creeps its way upon your face. 

"Why?" You ask.

"They don't know where home is."

"Ghost," You say with a huff, attempting to hide the laugh trying to claw its way out of your throat. "Shut the fuck up." 

"It's inappropriate to speak to your superior that way."

"Sorry, let me rephrase. Shut the fuck up, sir." 

"Better." 

You grin, holding the butt of your rifle up to your cheek in anticipation. Your finger reaches up and you adjust the scope. You close your left eye and squint your right as you look through the glass. You hadn't realized you never turned off your mic when Ghost crimes in again. 

"Control your breathing, Sergeant. It'll help you focus better." 

Your breath catches in your throat the moment is deep voice comes through the ear piece. Was the bastard really listening to you breath this whole time? Your tongue slides over your bottom lip, moistening the smooth skin there. You let a long breath come out before slowly breathing back in, reducing your heart rate. With your breath now cool and even, you sink back into the task at hand. 

"Atta girl." Ghost whispers in that english accent, his voice sending a wave of chills down your spine. 

Your chest pulls tight at his encouraging words, and if you hadn't been so focused on the door in front of you, you may have retorted something flirty back. But just as you were about the touch the communicator, the door in your sights swings open. You pause and hunch down impossibly lower as a tall man, accompanied by three other men stumble out of the building. You're so low now your chest could practically touch your boots. Your back is arched and steady, fingers itching to pull the trigger as you search for the man you have a description of. 

The rain is starting to pick up now, thunder rocketing through the air as lightning snaps to the ground in the distance. Your breathing is steady and firm, flowing visible streams in front of your face as the chill in the air makes you shiver. 

You're so focused on identifying the target in front of you that you don't hear the footsteps approach you from behind. They're quiet, trained and quick. You lock eyes on the target. A tall, skinny man. He has long, curly blonde hair that flows just past his shoulders. The identifying marker is a scar on the left side of his face. It's long–stretching from the bottom of his jaw all the way up and over his eye. It stops just above his eyebrow. 

Rain is starting to smear over the scope lense, making it increasingly difficult to see the taget. After a moment, you lick your lips away, your pointer finger hones down on the trigger and starts to stretch it down. The man across the way reaches down for the door handle on the SVU next to him. You take one final breath in and hold, steady and true. Your finger pulls down, emitting a loud pop in your ear. It's quick, and the target immediately falls to the ground. Not a word, not a sound. Silence as his body hits the cold, wet concrete. The men around him start to panic and pull their guns out, rapidly stomping around in circles to try and spot where the bullet came from. 

One turns in your direction. He doesn't see you, but starts running in your direction. You cock back and lift on your feet. You stand to almost your full height, knees slightly bent. You pull the trigger again. The second victim drops to the ground with a loud and painful grunt. At this point, you've given yourself away. Blood rushes through your ears as the two other men start sprinting in your direction. You slowly start to back up, cocking back yet again to let another bullet fly. Bullseye–a direct hit to another man's head. Your focus now remains on the last man standing who has gone into a hiding stance. You stand up fully and start to turn. When you do, you hear the sound of another rifle going off. Blood splatters across your face as a man–whom you had no idea was directly behind you–falls against the brick wall and his lifeless body slides down. 

You gasp softly at the sight–having had absolutely no clue the man was behind you getting ready to attack. You look around quickly, trying to locate where the shot came from when Ghost's voice comes through the headset. 

"Thought you knew better, sergeant."

Your breathing is heavy as you look up at the building across the street. On the fourth floor, Ghost moves forward to reveal himself through the window. The bone part of his mask almost lights up as he positions his rifle and shoots the last of the men on the street. He looks down at you as he lowers his rifle. His massive body towering in the window. His eyes lock with yours as your chest heaves up and down. The hood on your jacket has fallen now, and rain is starting to soak your hair. It sticks to your cheeks and neck. The water soaks your face. 

"Were you watching me?" You ask, slight irritation in your tone. 

"Had I not been, you'd be dead."

You scoff, clenching your jaw and rolling your tongue in your mouth as you keep eye contact with him. 

"Get down here. Let's go." 

Embarrassment was evident in your tone, but you couldn't hide that from Ghost. You couldn't hide anything from a man with his experience. So you gave in and let it out. 

Ghost was down in your area within a minute or so, and he approached you slowly. 

It was still raining as you and Ghost started walking towards the safe house. It was a small cottage on the outskirts of this shitty little town. Price said there was a shower, and that's all you could ask for. You walk silently next to your superior, who hasn't looked at or spoken to you since he came down from the building. You keep your eyes forward and alert as your heavy boots slush through the wet streets. 

"Have you heard from Soap?" You ask softly. 

"Affirmative. He's on the other side of the city with Price and Gaz. They're at the other safehouse." He responded in that deep tone.

He's safe. A gentle sigh of relief left your lips as you continued your walk to the safehouse. 

The walk there stays silent. With Ghost keeping close to your rear, he almost hovers over you but he's slow. Which is unusual for him. On occasion, you could have sworn you could hear his breathing. It was loud and sounded labored. You raised your voice a little at one point to ask if he was alright and grunted back at you. Something seemed off. 

After a couple hours carefully trekking through the nearly flooded city, you made it to the safe house. It was pitch black, away from any city lights to give you away. It was a small, one room cottage. When you opened the door, you cleared the room with your rifle. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough to house the two of you until the morning. There was a small, two person bed, a run-down kitchen and a small, detached bathroom with holes in the door. It was filthy, but you were thankful to be out of the rain. You noticed a small fireplace that seemed clean enough to use. 

You turn to Ghost, who is towering behind you. "I'll start a fire. You should try and get a hold of Price and let him know we're okay." 

The large man grunted, and turned slowly in the direction on the bed. You watched his feet almost drag the floor. And when he sat down on the edge of the bed, you noticed him trying to conceal the hand that was holding his side. 

You watch him for a few moments before turning your attention to the fire. It was starting to get cold. Worry about Ghost later so the both of you don't freeze to death here. Gathering what little kindling and firewood you could find, you begin to light the fire. First you pile in some pieces of wood you found here and there, and then you line the tower with what kindling you could find. Reaching into your soaked chest pocket, you pulled out the lighter you hoped wasn't flooded. And by some miracle, it wasn't. You easily ignited a small fire in the run-down fireplace. 

Turning around, you glance over to see Ghost still sitting with his hand on his side. His hulking figure dips the mattress by a good bit. 

"Fucking awful communicators." He grunts out before he rips the mic off his head. 

"Not able to get a hold of Price, huh?" You say with a soft smile. 

He shakes his head slowly. A grunt being his only response, again. 

You stand from where you sit, starting to pull your weapons and gear off. Your weapons come first. You gently set the rifle up against the wall, and place your handguns beside them. Knives get stuck in a pile next to the handguns. You reach around to unstrap your vest, pulling it off your shoulders. It drops to the floor with a thud, which grabs Ghost's attention. Once your vest is off, you move to take your harness off. Ghost watches you through half lidded eyes. You prop one leg up on a grate for better access to the straps that trail from your waist, all the way down to your feet. Starting with the foot strap, you unclip the buckle. Your hands slide up your calves to your thighs, where the second set of straps dig into the skin there. 

You quickly make way with those buckles and pull them down your legs. The last strap around your waist is easy. You stand and unclip the last buckle and let that strap fall to your feet. A relieved sigh leaves your lips as you turn to walk towards Ghost. He was still watching you, his hand holding his side. He hasn't moved–still sitting there uncomfortably, no doubt, in his full gear. You approach him slowly, hands hugging your hips as you test these waters. 

"Let me see." You say gently as you stop directly in front of him. He's so big that he's still eye height with you, even sitting down. 

"I'm fine." He grunts. 

"Sir–" 

"I said I'm fine. Tend to your own." He says. 

"I just want to help, sir. " 

He glances up at you through his mask. You're standing close–so close he can feel the heat radiating off your body. His eyes meet your face, his hand still hovering over the wound on his side.

"Do you trust me?" You ask gently.  

He seems hesitant, no doubt unsure what he wants to do. But after a few moments of watching you, he lets the hand on his side slowly drop to his thigh. He breathes out slowly. 

"Yes." 

You take this moment to be bold for the first time with him. You suck a breath in and hold, slowly reaching forward and gliding your hands over his shoulders. They fall down his back to unstrap the back of his weapons vest. Your eyes bounce back and forth between his as your chest presses softly to the pack on the front of his body. You pull the straps up over his shoulders and let the best slide down his front, pulling it off and gently setting it down on the floor by his feet. Next, your nimble fingers work at the zipper on his jacket–pulling down until it unclips at the bottom. You run your hands over his shoulders again to pull the rain jacket off–setting it on the mattress next to him. 

He looks bigger this way, which should be impossible. You just took eighty pounds of gear off his body but even now, in just his black pull-over hoodie and rain jacket, he looks bigger. His muscles are more defined. You can see the bulge of his strong pecs, the roundness of his arms. 

You stand up to look at him once again. 

"May I?" You ask softly. 

He doesn't speak, but nods slowly. 

You mind his permission and slowly grab the bottom of his hoodie, pulling it up and over his chest. What reveals is a nasty stab wound–about three inches long. Blood trails all the way down to his jeans. Most of it is dry, but some warm blood indicates it's still bleeding. 

"Jesus wept. You were going to leave this unattended?" You ask, glancing up to meet his gaze. 

He brings his hand up to hold his hoodie for you. You remove your hand and reach into the first aid kit attached to his utility belt. Pulling it open and starting to look through the supplies. 

"I've had worse." He retorts with a snort. 

You can't help but smile gently, looking at him through the corner of your eye as you rummage through his bandage pack. 

"You're an idiot." 

"I'll be sure to remember that when I'm doing your performance review." 

"In that case, be sure to remember this. I want a raise." You say with a small laugh as you set some bandages down on his thigh. 

"A raise? You can barely do what you're told now. Only good employees get raises." He retorts, you swear you can hear the grin on his mouth. 

"I've never been one to respect authority." You say, a cheeky grin meeting his gaze as your hand brings a sanitary wipe to his wound. 

"Fuckin' Americans." 

You laugh out loud this time, hand gently gliding over his wound–cleaning it with the sanitary wipe. You take notice of his build. He's strong, thick and muscular. He has some chest hair, and some hairs that trail under his jeans. He's incredibly built as well–of course he is. You knew that. He was a huge man, and incredibly strong. There was no doubt in your mind he was sculpted to the heavens. His skin is littered with scars. Some range from as small as your fingernails, to the size of your fist. You wish you could touch them all, to ask their stories. How did he get this one? That one? 

The little shack is quiet for a few more minutes as you finish cleaning and treating his wound. You take it slow so as to not cause him any discomfort. Something tells you he really doesn't care, but you do. His eyes watch you through the hole in the skull of his mask. The black eye paint makes his blue hues glow in the moonlight. Rain patters softly against the metal roof. Your hand glides smoothly over the patch you're placing over the stab wound. You flatten your palm to smooth it out as much as possible. His breathing is steady as it fans against your cheek. Your proximity to him right now may have been alarming if you didn't know him well. 

He stays still, watching you as he holds the hoodie up over his chest. His gaze brings goosebumps to the back of your neck, making your hairs stand up. You feel the need to break this awkward silence. 

"This scar looks like it was painful." You say ever so softly, your free hand coming down to the four inch scar on his abdomen. Your palm flattens and your thumb grazes it gently. 

"They were all painful." He says, a hint of tease in his tone. His voice has softened considerably. 

"Yeah? I wouldn't have guessed, sir." You say, eyes flashing up to meet his as your mouth pulls into a sweet smile again. 

"Simon. No need to be formal when we're alone." He says, followed by your name. It rolled off his tongue with ease–like it was the most natural thing for him to say. 

"Right. Simon–" you say softly. You're not pulling apart the last part of the bandage to stick it on top. "--how did you get this one?" You ask, pointing to another scar on one of his pecs. 

"In the Military. My first deployment. This was one of the first." He says. 

"I remember those days. I was eighteen when I joined the Marine Corp. Got a few scars myself. Though, they're more mental than anything." You say, bringing a hand up to tap the side of your head and smile. "Yours have more meaning behind them, I think." 

"Rightfully ugly things." He says, his eyes now following your hands as they work to cover the rest of his wound. 

"Not at all–" you say as you stop your movements. Your eyes meet his when he takes notice and lifts his head to see you. "--I find them endearing." 

His eyes narrow slightly as he watches you–indicating he's unsure of the meaning behind your statement. 

"I mean, they show your growth…as a man. You had to overcome each one of these–" you say as you move to continue wrapping his wound. "--they're all testaments to how strong you are. Mentally and physically. I don't find them ugly in the slightest." 

Your hand stops moving as you've finally finished patching his wound. Standing up straight, you bring your eyes back to his. He slowly releases his hoodie to let it drop back down, but his eyes never once leave yours. He almost seems dumbfounded–at a loss for words. He just stares at you for a few moments before speaking. 

"I don't understand." He says, almost a whisper. 

"What's not to understand?" You ask. 

His hands are laying on his thighs, but his fists are clenching and unclenching. He doesn't speak, so you take this chance to elaborate. 

"Simon, I don't know much of your past. Well, anything about your past, really–" you say gently, your hands slowly glide up and test the waters, laying on top of his strong shoulders. "--I don't need to. I know the man you are now. Neither of us are perfect. But I do know that you're a good man, who will always have my back. That's all that matters." 

His eyes never leave yours as your hands slowly glide over from his shoulders, and up his neck to rest holding his strong jaw. 

"And I will always have yours. That's what being a team is all about."

You're holding his jaw gently; you can feel it clenching as he watches you through the skull mask. You're close to him now, closer than you have been. Your hips are slotted between his legs. His fingers reach out and softly graze the outside hem on your jeans–silently asking for permission. You glance down to his hands, before back up to his face and slowly nod. 

His large hands come out to flatten against the outside of your thighs, softly squeezing the flesh there as they glide up and over your hips. They rest there, just above your ass. His warmth sends chills down your spine as he pulls you closer, your chest almost touching his. His palms spread against your curves and his thumbs dig into your belly. 

"What's on your mind, sergeant?" Ghost asks, his voice barely above a whisper as your face inches closer to his. 

You continue holding his jaw, keeping him attentive to you and you alone. Your breath fans over his covered lips. Your thumbs start to rub small circles over the sharp bones under them. 

"I often think…" you trail off as your right thumb moves towards the center of his face--finding his bottom lip under the mask and pressing down. "...think about what your smile looks like. I reckon you're quite handsome." 

"Is that right?" His voice is low, now laced with something akin to longing. 

His hands give your hips a good squeeze, shuffling your lower half closer to his. His thighs trap you in their strength. 

"Mhm." You hum softly. 

You find yourself being bold again, thumbs leaving his lips to trail down his neck again. You locate the bottom of his mask and slip both thumbs under the hem. You stop momentarily, giving him ample time to stop you. Only, he doesn't. You can feel the moment his muscles tense and you hear his breath hitch. But his eyes never leave you, and neither do his hands. They squeeze you and pull you harder. 

As to not betray his trust, your eyes slowly flutter closed. Your thumbs slip under his mask completely and gingerly begin pulling up. You pull it up and over his lips. Along the way, you can feel the defined muscles of his neck–the large veins. His chin and jaw are prickly, most likely from a recent shave. You pull it up to sit just in the tip of his nose. Eager fingers return to his chin, thumb coming back to slide over his lower lip. It's full, and warm. Feels slightly damp, like he had just licked it. His breath is warm on your hand as you continue to feel him here. 

Your other fingers stretch to try and feel the back of his head, wanting to know if he has thick or coarse hair. Is it curly or straight? Blonde like his eyelashes or brown? 

His hands become impatient and begin sliding up your sides. In the process, he pulls the skin-tight undershirt out from under your pants. Cold air rushes through and touches the little part of your belly exposed. As his digits continue sliding up, they eventually curve out and up both of your arms until they meet at the base of your neck. His fingers dig into the skin there and start to gently pull you forward. 

In the shuffle, your hands slide down his chest and come to a rest on top of his biceps. The muscles flex under his hoodie as he pulls you forward. Your eyes stay closed as you feel his breath getting closer and closer to your face. 

"Tell me to stop." He whispers. It was hoarse, and deep. Laced with lust. 

You breathe out slowly, shaky and anxious. 

And when you don't, he kisses you. 

To say he just kisses you is a gross understatement to what the both of you start to share. Your entire body lights up, chills shooting down your spine like fireworks as he twists his head to the side and slowly licks your bottom lip. His lips are soft and giving. They flatten when they meet yours to cover as much ground as they can. You open your mouth, giving him full access to that wet cavern. Your mouth meets his again, more heated this time. His tongue slides inside your mouth with ease, shooting to fight and tackle yours in a fight for dominance. 

Your fingers start to dig into his biceps, and that elicits a grunt moan from the man kissing you. He continues kissing you, tongue exploring your mouth as his large hands start to slide down your body again. His right hand slides behind you to trace your back, and his left opts to take the front. He stops at your breast–giving it a firm squeeze when he gets it in his grasp. Your nipple hardens under his firm touch, a small whimper getting lost in his mouth as he explores your body. The hand on your back pulls you impossibly closer, pressing your much smaller body tight to his. 

He continues his assault on your breast for another minute or so, all while continuing to kiss you with a certain ferocity. His tongue leaves your mouth to lap up the saliva surrounding your lips and you erupt in shivers when the hand squeezing your breast starts to trail lower. He traces your curves until he reaches the metal of your belt buckle. His digits slowly begin to work at the buckle, setting the button on your jeans free once he's worked it open. He kisses you as he pulls the button open, his fingers grabbing hold of the zipper and slowly pulling it down. It feels like it takes him an eternity to work your jeans open, but your body buzzes with excitement when you hear the zipper coming down. 

He stops for a moment, continuing to kiss you as his hand rests there on the buckle of your jeans. You slide your hand back up to his shoulders and softly rub the muscles there, pulling a quiet whimper from his lips. Yes, a whimper. From Ghost. 

Fuck. If that doesn't get you wet, nothing will. But it does. In that moment, you feel the arousal start to ooze out of your cunt. You may have thought you started your period if you weren't sure it was because of him. You can't help but rub your thighs together when the pressure starts to become uncomfortable. Ghost takes notice of this and pulls away from you. His fingers begin to dance with the hem of your underwear. 

"Tell me to stop." He repeats against your lips, still barely above a whisper. You can feel his eyes burning into you, but yours are still closed.

The cool leather of his glove meets with your sensitive skin when you don't answer him. Slowly, achingly slowly, his fingers sink under your underwear to find what he wants so desperately right now. 

You whine when the leather touches your sensitive skin there, his fingers sink down through your folds to truly feel where you're warmest. His fingers glide easily through your arousal; the texture of his clove adds a bit more feeling to it.  

"Fuck." he curses against your lips as he continues to rub around your needy hole. 

He uses his fingers to collect your wetness and drags it up to that swollen bundle of nerves. He uses your own arousal to prepare you. His thumb begins to rub firm circles over your clit, causing you shudder and whimper in his arms. Your eyes squeeze shut harder, face heating up and turning red. Something you never thought he'd see—the freckles on your cheeks being revealed by the change in color on your face. Your fingers dig hard into his shoulders, holding on for what feels like dear life. 

It's been a decade since you've been with a man. It's not something you were particularly proud of, because nothing could quite scratch that itch like the touch of a man. But your job kept you busy, and you felt just fine pleasuring yourself. You were always an independent woman. But fuck. Fuck. His touch felt like fire. Like pure bliss. The way he continued to draw tight circles over your clit while his palm flattened on your cunt and two large fingers sunk into your wet heat. They were so big, so strong while they pumped you full. It wasn't long before he found that spot too–the spongy piece of heaven deep inside your core. 

Your head tumbles back on your shoulders, mouth falling open silently as his fingers work magic inside you. He leans forward, bringing his lips to your chest where it's open from the u-neck undershirt– peppering kisses on the warm skin there. Your hand involuntarily comes up to caress the back of his head. Such a sweet sentiment he does, while absolutely ruining your brief innocence with his fingers. You whimper and cry for him as he pumps and pumps and pumps. 

You let out one harsh breath, followed by a quiet but sweet whimper– and out tumbles his name. 

Simon. 

That's all it takes to break him. He huffs a hard breath against your chest and kisses the skin one more time before pulling back, taking the hand out of your pants with him. 

You gasp at the lack of contact. You almost open your eyes in the shuffle but as if he knew what was going to happen, his hand comes up to cover your eyes. 

"Lay down. Now." He orders. 

He guides you back a few steps, hand still over your eyes. You feel him stand, and he brings a hand to your shoulder to guide you back towards the mattress. Your legs hit the edge and cause you to fall to your back. His hand leaves your face, but you obediently keep them closed for him. He shuffles a bit before his hands are on you again, slipping your combat boots off one at a time. Then his hands are on your waist, pulling your jeans and underwear down in one swoop. Involuntarily, your hands shoot down to cover your core and you hear him grunt. 

"Don't hide from me, sergeant." He says in the deep english tone. 

His hands meet yours and wrap around them, slowly pulling them off your weeping cunt. A breath leaves his mouth harshly when you're revealed to him. He kneels instantly, large hands flattening against the inside of your thighs, at the apex of your legs and waist. On each side of where he just had his fingers deep. His hot breath fans against your sex. 

"Fucking perfect." He says as he fits himself between your legs. His hands slide from the top, all the way to your calves to pull them up and over his shoulders. 

You shudder in anticipation, back arching slightly in presentation. Ghost takes notice. 

"Dirty girl." He praises 

That's the last thing he says before he dives in. His mouth closes over your swollen clit, tongue circling you in a delicious dance. Your back immediately arches even more, muscles tensing down below. His tongue is smooth as it glides so elegantly over that center of pleasure. He moans into you, drinking the taste of you in. The top half of his face is still covered, only letting the bottom half of his face free so he can eat you out like this. 

Your hands desperately search for purchase. They start by clenching the bedsheets, before twitching hard and moving to lay on your tummy. His hands find yours quickly and he presses down, anchoring your much smaller hands under his to your tummy. His fingers thread through yours and give a reassuring squeeze. It's odd. You'd never think of him as the gentle type. But he always seemed to surprise you. 

Your hands start to close on his head, holding him still right where you want him. Anxious fingers gripping the mask and holding him down. He moans again, the vile wet sounds of his dirty act echoing through the room as he pulls you closer to an orgasm. His hands hold you steady as he pushes his face in deeper, completely enveloping his face in you. His cock grows achingly hard in his jeans, throbbing to be set free. One of his hands leaves yours to come down and insert two large fingers in yet again. 

Something white and hot starts to stir in your lower belly. Like a thread being pulled tight on each end, ready to snap at any given moment. Your cunt starts to clench impossibly tight around Ghost's fingers and he moans into you yet again.

"Atta girl. I can feel it. Give me a good one." He encourages through licks. 

Fuck, his voice. The tone and the accent–they do something to you. His voice repeats in the back of your mind as your muscles tense all at once. A hoarse whimper leaves your lips as he nibbles down on your little clit, cunt pulling tight and hot as the thread finally snaps and he gets what he asked for. You cum all over his face, body convulsing from the over stimulation as he continues to suck on you through the pulses. Your fingers lock dead in his mask–you think you can feel his hair. It's thick. 

He groans into you, his voice vibrating your lower body as he slows his pace and inevitably decides to take pity on you and stop. 

You feel his mouth leave your cunt as you struggle to catch your breath. His hands leave you too. Slightly concerned, you start to sit up. Your eyes are still closed. His hands stop you from standing up. 

"Bloody delicious you are, sweet girl." 

His hand caresses your jaw, and you hear him fumbling with his belt buckle, followed by the sound of his zipper coming down. 

"Open." 

Your eyes flutter open and you glance up at him standing tall over you. His mask is pulled back down to conceal his mouth. You lock eyes with him and stare him down as he begins to pull his cock out of his jeans. You keep your eyes on him until he breaks contact for a moment. He glances down towards his cock and then back at you. You take the hint and slowly lower your gaze until you meet his cock in all its glory. He's big–covered in veins. His tip is red and smeared with pre-cum. Gods, you got him this wound up? 

"You want this?" He asks. 

You don't have to answer him. The lustful look in your eyes as you glance back up at him is enough to make his cock jump. He growls low in his throat. 

"Turn around. Bend over." 

Not having to be told twice, you do as you're told. You stand and turn so your back is facing him. You bend down, revealing your cunt from behind as you find your place bent over the bed for him. His massive form stalks behind you–like you're his prey. Just waiting to be captured. His macho, mean, attitude has always sent chills down your spine. This situation was no different. 

His hand finds your waist, gripping on your side as his other holds his heavy cock up to position it at your entrance. While he rubs the head of his cock through your slick to prepare it, the hand holding your waist moves to the center of your lower back and his palm flattens. He pushes down, forcing you to arch in presentation for him. He curses under his breath. Fucking perfect. Beautiful little cunt. 

His heavy boots shuffle closer as the head of his cock begins to breach your tight hole. Your breath catches at the sudden intrusion. The hand on your lower back holds you steady as he starts pushing forward until he's fully sheathed inside you. You let a moan slip when the hand on your back starts to rub up and down you slowly, almost in a comforting manner. 

"Fuck." He groans out when he bottoms out. 

He starts with deep thrusts, getting your cervix used to the invasion. Your knees begin to buckle. No need to worry though. His hands both move to either side of your waist to hold you up as he begins to thrust a little faster–pulling out farther and re-sheathing himself. His back straightens and his head falls back in pleasure as soft groans come from under the mask. Your moans join him as the wet sounds of your combined arousal fills the room. 

You moan sweetly–which teases him. A strong, capable woman like yourself reduced to a whimpering mess under her Lieutenant. It spurs him on and makes him needy. 

He starts thrusting at a more harsh pace now. His hips collide with yours as the bed rattles on its old, dilapidated frame. The metal digging into the wooden floor. His hands squeeze your hips tight and he pulls you back onto him in time with his own thrusts. 

"Insatiable woman. Drive me mad with this body." He grunts as his hips slam into yours. 

"Simon–" you whimper out, cut off by a particularly sharp thrust. 

"You--you know what you do to me, woman?" He starts between harsh breaths as he pounds into you. "Can't keep my eyes off you. You're a goddamn distraction–" he continues to moan loudly, not caring if anyone may hear. "--walk around in those tight ass jeans….n'that low cut shirt. You do it on purpose, don't you?" 

"M's-sorry sir–" you manage to whimper as he continues to pound into you. 

"The fuck you are." He says before another hard thrust. His grunts, leaning forward to grab a fistful of your hair and pull your head back. 

The same sensation from earlier starts to boil over again. The thread is pulled tight once more, ready to snap at any given moment as he continues to hammer into the sensitive spot inside you. His breathing is heavy, grunting loudly in your ear as pounds down into you. You start to tighten around him once more and once again, he takes notice right away. 

"Already, sweet girl? Can you give me another good one?" 

You whimper his name. 

"Words." 

"Yes." You moan. 

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Simon."

"Good fucking girl." 

He relases your hair and stands up straight, anchoring down on your hips and letting absolutely fucking loose. He starts pounding into you ruthlessly. His hips jackhammering into yours and rendering you speechless. His harsh thrusts steal the air from your lungs. All you can do is lay there, drool like a dog and take his cock the way he needs to give it to you. 

Your orgasm snaps through you and burns like wildfire. Your body rocks violently back against his and he groans when you start to clench around him.

This was unlike any experience you've ever had. It was hard for any of your past partners to get you off, period. Ghost just made you cum twice. And violently. 

"Fuck. Where do you want it?" He asks. 

It takes you a few hard thrusts to try and speak–trying to gain your composure and suck some air back in your lungs to speak. 

"In-inside–please–" you manage to moan. 

For the first time this evening, his movements falter. He seems unsure as he tries to regain his rhythm. 

"That's–no, no I can't….you'll…" he grunts as he continues to rut into you.

"Safe. I-I promise." You whimper out. "Wanna feel you."

"Fuuuuck." He groans out, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chases his release. His hands come up to grab your shoulders, anchoring down as he continues fucking your raw. 

"Don't move. Don't fucking move, sweet girl. Gonna--gonna fill you up, make you mine." 

"Simon--" you whimper out. 

That last whimper is what seems to take him over edge. He groans your name one last time before his hips bottom out again and come to a screeching hault. You feel his cock start to throb before the warmth of his cum begins filling you. He shoots what feel like endless streams of his while juices inside until it starts overflowing and running down your thighs. You lay there on your stomach trying to catch your breath. Not long after, you hear the heaving mess of a man who just rearranged you collapse to his knees behind you. You hear him turn to sit on hid ass, shifting to lean up against the bed. 

You lay there exhausted, listening to the sounds of his labored breathing. You're too worn out to move, so you opt to stay where you are. Not even caring what a mess you look like. 

After a few minutes you feel yourself beginning to drift off to sleep. The exhaustion is taking over. It gets quiet after a few more minutes and you feel completely relaxed. You're so out of it, you don't notice Ghost getting up from his spot on the floor. 

You don't feel him softly cleaning you with one of his extra shirts. 

You don't feel him start to re-dress you. 

And you don't feel him lay you down on the bed, when he climbs in behind you and wraps his arms around you. 

And in the morning, it suprises you when he asks you about your time in the United States Marine Corps. 

[lilolilyr]

Tagged by @banashee to post 10 of my favorite comfort movies and then tag 10 people, thanks! <3 just had a look at yours again after writing mine, we agree on LotR :D and adsfg I really need to watch Rocky Horror one of these days (I've seen it live before, but never the movie I think?? Oupsie xD fast ne Bildungslücke!)

1. Lord of the Rings (whole trilogy but if I have to choose one then Return of the King)

Comfort movie: battles and darkness and Winning

A++

2. Racing Stripes

(The film's in colour but it looks like this is the only gif I can find when I type in the title lmao)

One of a handful of taped movie me and my sister watched on repeat as a kid. Big nostalgia

3. Chestnut: Hero of Central Park

I can't find a gif for that one at all, but it's another cute kids movie I used to watch A Lot and still sometimes return to for the comfort of nostalgia and safety

4. Monte Carlo

I love all those silly switcharoo films, also the princess switch and its sequels etc, but Monte Carlo was the first one I watched and I still love to watch it for some mindless destress entertainment xD

Ummmm okay what else we got, I can't actually easily think of comfort!movies, I've got a whole bunch of comfort TV shows that come to mind, and movies I love but that aren't exactly /comfort/... *Goes through my Ao3 fandom list* no nothing clicks nothing clicks... Oh!

5. Pitch Perfect

Just the first one tbh, I mean the others are fun too but this one's a comfort film for me!

6. murder, she said

I adore Miss Marple, and this version of Miss Marple specifically! I've watched this one so many times :)

7. The Parent Trap

It's cute. Okay? It's cute xD and I've probably watched this version at least as often as the German one I'll add next, probably bc this one was on TV more often? Idk, I couldn't actually say which one I like more

8. Charlie & Louise

Again no gifs on here, but I adore this film! Also as you can maybe tell I'm actually running out of ideas and the Real comfort would be reading the book version of Das Doppelte Lottchen that both this and the parent trap are loosely based on xD my mom still has an old hardcover version and I've always adored that book, wished I had a twin whenever I read it as a kid!

9. Pride and Prejudice

Alright so th Colin Firth series version is better and the YouTube Lizzie's diaries or what it is is the best anyway but we're doing movies here and the Keira Knightley version Is definitely a comfort film for me so here goes

Ok so there are Definitely pride and prejudice gifs somewhere on tumblr. It just won't show them in the search results for sommme reason. Seems to be because it has the word 'pride' in it, because whenever I type that it switches to the 'create your own gif' error image. @staff what's up with that? Latent homophobia again?

10. Kyss Mig

First wlw film I ever watched, I still remember watching it (on mute, with English subtitles, there's no German or English dub anyway) in my parents' living room when I was 12 or so, with the computer display turned away from everyone else, actually pretending to be on tumblr (the rule was we had to be at least in the same room for evening family time even if I was uninterested in whatever movie or sports the others were watching but I was allowed to be on tumblr) and trying not to show any reaction to the screen bc at the time I had no idea what my parents' stance regarding LGBT ppl was (parents, tell your kids when you're okay with them being gay, bc they might be and they won't just Know that you're okay with that!), and idk I've had friends tell me it's not their fav film and maybe it's mainly the nostalgia for me but I still absolutely adore this movie and have rewatched it many times

Tagging my mutuals, friends and collaborators <3 @toboldlynerd @lavendelhummel @squishmittenficfan @purlturtle @mimi-mindless @asstraightasau-turn @katieswain123 @verajasmijnart @artax-risen @bookgirlfan only if you want to do it of course! :) & pls lmk if you'd rather I didn't tag you in the future!

Edit: looking at old posts in my 'movie tag' and 'comfort movies' tags now like omg! Of course! Mr&Mrs Smith, Lara Croft, Mean Girls, Carol..... Also I only just thought of Miss Congeniality! Adsfghjkl I really have 0 memory sometimes!

[corhore]

That master post of She-Hulk recommendations. When you have the time could you make one like that for Wonder Woman? I'd like to start exploring her books but don't know where to start. I'd be grateful for the help.

GLADLY

This is gonna be long I'm sorry.

Wonder Woman by Geroge Perez.

Arguably the best WW run. Rebooted the character and re-established her for the "modern" age. Hands down my personal fav comic of her and Perez's (RIP King) gets the character and his art is *chefs kiss*.

Wonder Woman by William Messner-Loebs

Admittedly not as good as it came after Perez, but its a fun and decent run on Wondy. She goes to space, works in fast food and lost the title of Wonder Woman and introduced Artimes. Tis gud.

Wonder Woman by John Byrne

This is one of the weakest runs on WW. Byrne's take on Wondy isn't great nor is it terrible. Tho his art is great and he introduces Cassie Sandmark and Hippolyta taking up the WW mantle for a bit so its worth the read if your a Wondy fan.

Wonder Woman by Phil Jimenez

In my opinion one of the most underrated runs. Jimenez really has a good voice for Wondy and of course his art is fantastic.

Wonder Woman by Greg Rucka

Often regarded as the best modern run of Wonder Woman. I tend to dis-agree because the run gets de-railed by Infinite Crisis and its also the run that had Wondy snap Max Well's neck which was handled really well in the comic, but it ruined online discussion and perception of WW for years to come. Regardless it is really good.

Wonder Woman by Gail Simone

Pretty good stuff by the hit and miss Simone. One of the better books she wrote. Simone once again really gets the character resulting in a great WW run.

Wonder Woman by Brian Azzarello

Now we gettin into the iffy stuff. Wonder Woman was not treated well in the New52 often written horribly out of character. Now you'd think that would carry over to her solo, but surprisingly it doesn't. Even though this book make a ton of major changes to Wondy like origin, making her the God of War (which I hate btw) and being the first book to really solidify giving WW a sword Brian Azzarello writes Wondy on point.

The book is a very different take on Wondy, but Wondy herself stays true to the core of her character for the most part. Coupled with great art and legitimately great stories ingrained in greek mythology I can indeed recommend it.

And since 2016 the book has been completely retconned so you can read this as an unintentional elseworlds story.

Wonder Woman by Meredith Finch

NO

Unless you want to see the Amazons be rapists who kill infants.

Wonder Woman Rebirth (AKA the return of Rucka)

DC Rebirth oh how wasted you were.

Anyway Greg Rucka came back to Wondy essentially to clean house after the New52. He wrote the first 4 volumes and there the only ones worth reading really. You get some top tier art and a decent re-telling of Wondy's origin.

Wonder Woman by G.Willow Wilson and Mariko Tamaki

Read these if you want to be put to sleep.

Okay there not that boring, but there pretty average if not below average. If you want to read Wondy comics tread water then read these.

Wonder Woman by Becky Cloonan and Michael W. Conrad

The current run on wondy as of right now. Aaaaaand its pretty good. After Wondy's death in Death Metal (don't worry about that she's fine) she in the afterlife in Valhalla? Interdimensional shenanigans ensue. It takes a bit to get going and the writing for Wondy is off a bit, but the art and premise is solid. It also had Wonder Woman's first even in decades called Trial of the Amazons which was also decent.

Wonder Woman Earth One

HOO BOY this ones a doozy. WW Earth One is a controversial book to say the least. Its a complete re-telling of Wondy like we've never seen before. It uses themes from Wondy's roots like bondage and the battle of the sexes and love. This book is not for everyone. Your either gonna love it (like me) or absolutely hate it. Its a book that one can very easily miss the point of.

Grant Morrison has a very distinct and passionate take on the character and like many of his books are thought provoking and interesting. I mean the book ends with a literal war with the sexes.

I do think the book is worth reading if your a Wondy fan. It might not be your cup of tea, but at the very least it should be a interesting read on a very unique take on Wondy. Also the art by Yanick Paquette is hands down some of the best art for Wondy ever. He's become my favorite artist for her. He draws her beautiful, strong and sexy.

The Brave and the Bold: Batman and Wonder Woman

A team up with Wondy and Brucey. With some cool mythological shit and some dope ass art by Liam Sharp this is an easy recommend.

Wonder Woman/Conan

A fun crossover between the barbarian and the Amazon. This was a few years before Conan went back to Marvel so technically this is an unofficial DC/Marvel crossover.

Sensational Comics Wonder Woman

This is gonna be a hard pass. Sensational comics should've been a companion book like Action and Detective, but instead DC made it into a anthology book with many different creative teams. It was also digital only. (yeah DC doesn't give Wondy any respect)

Because of this the stories range from good to absolute trash with some of the shittiest art you've ever seen published by the big two. Save the headache and don't bother.

Future State Immortal Wonder Woman

Future State was meh, but we got a decent Wondy book out of it. Jen Bartel's art make sit worth it.

That's about it. There's a few other books I haven't read yet like Wonder Woman Evolution and her silver and golden age stories. But these should get you going.

Happy readings.

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Not Over You

A/N: This gif isn't mine, so if you're the owner, let me know so I can give you the credits.

Pairing: Keanu Reeves X Reader

Word count: 2.8K

Summary: Months after Keanu puts an end to your relationship and disappears, you bump into him, reawakening intense feelings.

×

You never expected to be the only human being on Earth who would go through life without an episode of a heart break. It would happen sooner or later, and you, like everyone else, would get over it. Eventually.

But you could never guess the one to give you such a painful experience would be Keanu Reeves, the one and only.

You met Keanu by mistake. An accident. In a day where your whole life was coming undone, two years ago. You had just lost your job, your parents were giving you a hell of a hard time about it, and you, seeking comfort in your boyfriend, found him half-naked with another girl. That made you drive insanely fast, through busy streets, only to stop on this bridge outside of the town. You had no intention of jumping, you just needed time to think and the wind was strong and heavenly. Maybe it could wash it all away.

It didn't. But a man decided to stop, assuming the worst, and asked you not to do anything reckless. You assured him you wouldn't, and a small, heart to heart conversation started. It took several minutes for you to finally turn and look at the man, and that almost gave you a heart attack. You couldn't believe your eyes. And you couldn't believe him, of all men, would pause his whole life just because of some random girl by the bridge.

But that was only the first day. He invited you for a coffee, and it took only a few days for you to get to the man behind the worldwide famous actor. And you fell in love with him. For a while, you thought he had fallen for you too.

But the media was restless. People soon found out about the age difference and that made them go crazy. News channel, tabloids, magazines, internet blogs, everything, they were all about Keanu's younger girlfriend. It didn't bother you though. You couldn't care less about what people think or say. But one day, it got to him.

One day, he decided to have an honest conversation with you about it. Keanu told you he felt old, so out of your league. Him. Out of your league. You remember laughing at this statement. But he didn't. He was dead serious as he pointed out all the things you couldn't share. How you belonged to different generations and never seemed to get each other's references. How you were into different things. It soon became a fight when you realized what he was doing. The yelling started and soon the crying. Keanu apologized and ended things. He wished you the best. He wished you to find someone your age, someone better than him.

That happened six months ago. It feels like years though. Since that day, you can only see him on TV. No texts, no calls. Nothing. Like he hasn't been in your life at all.

“(Y/N).” Your friend calls you, dragging you away from your thoughts. That's when you realize what made you remember him. Two men on your left, a few tables away, are talking about motorcycles. “You ok?”

“Yeah.” Nodding, you look down at your cup of coffee, still untouched. Your friend made you come to this new coffee shop early in the morning, and you wish you could enjoy it. But now that Keanu is once again in your mind... You find it difficult to take in the beautiful vintage decoration. The pastel colors and all the happy people around you, chatting and smiling.

“Please tell me your not–”

“I'm not.” You cut her off, taking a deep breath. “I was just... Thinking about this office party next week. I can bring someone. Wanna come?” Lying is not your thing, but if you tell Laura you're thinking about Keanu again, she won't let it go easily.

“Sorry. Next week will be hectic, I don't think I can.” Feeling her eyes on you, you sigh. “But on the weekend we can do something nice like going to the–” She stops talking suddenly, eyes wide, staring at something behind you.

“Laura?” Raising your eyebrows, you wonder which one of her many ex-boyfriends is here. “Do you need me to go so you can talk to him?”

“No, no.” Running a hand through your hair, you notice this person approaching by how she moves in her seat. Still, you don't turn to check who it is. The only boyfriend she had that you liked had to move to someplace in Europe. The others are all idiots, so why bother to look?

“Just tell me what you want to do.” Muttering, you finally take a sip of your coffee before putting the cup down again. Too bitter for your taste. Or is it just you?

“(Y/N).” The mention of your name isn't what startles you. Or what makes your heart, ripped in half, skip a beat. It's the voice. You haven't heard it in a very long time, but you recognize it immediately. You crave for it. “Hi.”

“I'll leave you two.” Laura stands up, taking her bag, and giving you a stare. You don't know what it means though.

She doesn't even give you time to think. Perhaps you should leave as well. But you're frozen, not able to even look at him.

It takes a few seconds until he takes a seat before you, where Laura was. Seeing Keanu now is... What? Torture, certainly. Because you just realized you want to jump in his arms again, hug him, kiss him. Is painful because you know you can't do any of those things. And you shouldn't want to.

But there he is, looking as good as the day you first saw him. Dark hair hiding one of his eyes, the stubble that always looks so rough, but you know how soft it really is. He's right there, and you could just stretch your arm and touch him.

There are a lot of things you want to say, and the words fight for a chance to be spoken.

'What the hell do you want?'

'Where have you been all this time?'

'I still love you.'

'Why did you came to talk to me?'

'Do you still love me?'

“Hi.” It's stupid how this is what wins in the end.

“How are you? It's been a while.” He hesitates a little, those dark eyes never leaving you, burning. How much you missed those eyes looking at you...

“Normal.”

“Just normal?”

“Just normal.” You should lie. Tell him you're absolutely fine. Happy as hell. Maybe you should even tell him you're going out with someone. But you just can't. You love him too much, and the time you had together was good. The very best. The way it ended doesn't change how amazing it was. So you just can't bring yourself to lie to him. But you don't tell the truth either. Keanu doesn't have to know how devastated you still are after he left. “You?”

“Guess I can say I'm normal too.” There are things left unsaid. From both of you. “Is it too bitter?”

“What?” You mumble, and he gestures at your coffee. He knows you. Too well perhaps. “Yeah. Why-why are you here, Ke?” When you notice how you just called him, it's too late. Cursing yourself, you bite your tongue. “Keanu.” Or should you say, Mr. Reeves? You don't know where you stand now. Friends? It can't be since he disappeared.

“I heard of this new coffee shop and decided to come and... When I saw you, I just had to come and talk.” He nods, maybe to himself. “But I can go if that's what you want.”

“No.” How could you want him to leave? “It's... It's good to see you again.” A smile finds its way to your lips. “After what? Three, four months?” You dissimulate, not wanting to just let it show how much you missed him.

“Seven months next week, I believe.” Is he counting? Why would he do that? “Too long.”

“Too long.” You're still speaking when a young couple stops by your table, excitedly talking to Keanu. You smile to see how he excuses himself, with an apologetic look, to give his fans attention. He's always kind to them, never being rude. When he stands up for a picture, you take the chance to leave, your heart sinking a little. After leaving the money on the table, you take your bag and walk away, doing your best to hold back the tears threatening to roll down.

You had imagined this moment a million times. Seeing him again. You thought you'd yell, curse him and bravely walk away. But this? You're walking away out of fear. You're running away from the feelings, too strong for you to handle. How is it possible to love someone so intensely after all this time?

“(Y/N)!” His voice comes with the familiar noise of his motorcycle. So you stop, breathing deeply, hoping the soft shadow of the three above you will hide your teary eyes. “I'm sorry about that, I–”

“You know I don't mind, Ke... Keanu.” Damn it.

“I... I want to talk to you. So maybe somewhere more private where we won't be interrupted?”

No. You don't want to talk to him. You don't want to pour salt on the wound. “Alright.” If only you were stronger.

Keanu gives you his helmet, and you put it on before climbing on the bike behind him. There's no choice but to hug his waist, so that's what you do, trying not to enjoy it so much. It's probably nothing. He probably just wants to apologize.

You can't help but notice he still keeps the same speed as before. Not as fast as he usually goes when he's alone. As much as this gesture warms your heart, you try to keep it distant. Try to keep it cold. Cold people don't get hurt.

You're not impressed when you stop at his place. Well, his house. One of them. He moved after breaking up with you. Keanu waits patiently for you to move to the ground. The bike is too high for you, so it's always a little complicated. Taking off the helmet, you hand it over to him, making your way to the front door. But halfway there you change your mind. Being inside his house is too much. It's too familiar, too... Too much. So you walk around it, straight to the backyard.

Sitting on the wooden table, you take in the view. The morning sun turns everything into a dream. You remember that the best pictures you have with Keanu were taken here after you either decided to crash here or passed out on his couch.

Memories. The damn memories never leave you alone.

“I forgive you.” You burst out when he comes to sit before you. “If you want to apologize for... I don't know, for anything. I forgive you.”

“I wasn't planning on this.” He starts hands together above the table. “But I saw you there and... I just had to.”

You don't know what to say, so you look down, unable to sustain eye contact anymore. What are you doing? What is he doing? “You disappeared.” It just comes out, suddenly, full of... Anger? Desperation? You don't know, but it's overflowing. “After everything we've been through, you broke up with and disappeared. Not a single call. Not even a text. Nothing!”

“I had to.”

“You had to?” A humorless laugh escapes your lips and you stand up, determined to leave. On foot, if that's what it takes.

“I had to because if not I'd come back to you.” He raises his voice a little, just enough to make you stop in your tracks, hands shaking a little. “I did what I did because of you.”

“No, you did it for yourself.” Turning around again, you sustain his stare. “I didn't want to end things. I love you!” It came out wrong. Didn't it? It was supposed to be in the past. “I loved you.” You correct yourself, a hand on your forehead. “I... I'm sorry. You think I'm too young for you and that's ok. You have the right to think that but don't put words in my mouth. I never cared about age.”

“Everything I wanted was you to have the chance of making a better choice. Someone your age who could keep up with all the pop culture things you're into.” He speaks slow, his voice soft and low again. Keanu never raises his voice at you. Well, he only does it get your attention when you're too mad to listen, but he never enjoys it.

“If I wanted someone my freaking age I'd be looking for him.” Stepping forward, you slam both your hands on the table. “When I fell for you, I wasn't paying attention to the numbers. I fell for you. You. Why can't you accept that?”

“The tabloids were saying that I was–”

“Taking advantage?” You finish it for him. “Yeah, they said a lot of mean stuff but I didn't give a damn. Our relationship was between you and me. The rest of the world didn't get a say in it.”

Keanu looks down, breathing deeply. You just stand there, waiting. Begging... Begging this means something. Something good.

“Say something, please.”

“I still love you.” The words hit you like a train, and you stand up straight, not strong enough to look away from him.

“Don't say that if you don't mean it.” You beg, your voice barely a whisper.

“I mean it.”

“Don't say that if you still think we can't be together because of this or that!” You gesture at nothing in particular, tears rolling down now, all the walls you put around yourself falling to the ground. “You broke my heart once, don't do that again.”

“I can't stop thinking about you.” Keanu stands up, walking around the table and stopping before you. “Every single day I had to fight the urge to call you. Visit you. To... Have you back, but I couldn't. That's why I moved away. And I only came back because I thought I got over you but... Clearly, I didn't.” When he takes your hand, you swear you feel the world slowing down. You have been dreaming of his touch for so long now that you just don't have to strength to push him away. You want him. And... If he wants you too...

“Ke, please don't–”

“When I saw you, it came back. Everything since that day on the bridge.” Pulling up your hand, he places a soft kiss on your knuckles. “Every hug, every kiss, every date. It reminded me of how much I missed you.”

It's useless to fight it. It's useless to put any effort into trying to step away now. Your arms move from his chest up to be around his neck as you end the small distance between your bodies. Keanu is quick to hug your waist and it feels like both your bodies move out of instinct. Like you missed each other in levels you can't even understand.

“What do you mean, Ke?” Your voice is weak, barely a whisper. Involuntary, you stand on your toes, needing, wanting to kiss him again.

“I don't care what they say. Tabloids, magazines, to hell with them. All I need, all I want is you and if you really don't mind having such an old man–”

“Everything about you draws me in. Inside and out.” Cutting him short, you caress his cheek, wondering if you should allow yourself to be happy. If this is really happening.

“I know, darling.” He takes a deep breath. “I know what I did hurt you very much but... If you're willing to try again...”

“If you ever break up with me again over this whole age shit or for anything someone who doesn't even know us says... I'll be the one to disappear this time.” You mutter with your eyes closed, using whatever is left of your strength to keep from kissing him. “Promise me.”

“The plans we had... About getting married, having kids... I want it all back. I want to get things where we left them.”

Biting back a smile, you nod, finally allowing your thirsty lips to meet his. And it feels like heaven, like getting a chance to breathe after being underwear for too long. He tastes just the same, like home. Some tears roll down, giving the kiss a salty taste, but you don't mind. They're tears of joy now.

When you pull away to breathe, he lifts you up, and you quickly wrap your legs around his waist. “You didn't get a chance to drink your coffee so let me make you breakfast.”

“Like before?”

“Yes. And if it's up to me, it'll be like that forever. For the rest of our lives or for as long as you want me.”

“Forever, then, Ke.” Smiling, you place a soft kiss on his lips. Yours now, once again. “Forever and always, babe.”

[delvalentine]

thank you for your work in my match up @kamesama - i was blown away, and i have to admit i see vyn in a different light now *was previously the biggest anti-vyn person ever but maybe i just hated him because i didn't want to like him-*

i digress !! i match you with:

luke pearce

you are looking for a summer; a person who understands and accepts you no matter what; who will sit and listen instead of telling you what's right or wrong; who's got your back, through thick and thin; who has an abundance of patience and care to give. that's luke. in friendships, he's always the 'mom' friend, taking care of others. maybe you worry that you've gone too far, or that your true intention was misunderstood, but that never seems to happen with him. it's like he's energized just by being around you. he never gets tired of you. he's happy to help you realize your desires for the day, whether or not that's taking you to new places or to fond nostalgic memory checkpoints. he adores everything about you, even things you might not love about yourself. your curiosity for the world matches his own. your honesty, goodwill, and humanity draws him to you. sometimes he doesn't feel like he's good enough to even be around you; but you make him want to be a better man. whenever he gets to learn more about you and what makes you tick, it's like he's solving the most important case of his life. as a detective, there's nothing more wonderful than that.

you are more wintry. the opposing energy brings you closer together. you value realism, personal strength, but can be blunt when your emotions get the better of you. you're a tough nut to crack sometimes, but he wants to know you inside and out. luke, as optimistic and upbeat as he is, is strongly affected by his own emotions and can get easily depressed. knowing that you will never lie to him, your words carry more weight than anybody else's, including his own. the two of you comfort each other without trying to manually fix each other. the healing seems to come naturally. after being alone and working so hard for justice on his own, luke secretly wants somebody to hold him and let him be cushioned from the world, even if it's just for five minutes. he'd never admit that he wants to be the little spoon, so prideful in his ways, but he'll never turn you down. getting tangled together like two warm pretzel knots, your eyes hazy with a grogginess that gives you a dazed and beautiful glow... he thinks he'd like to wake up like this every day with you. he wants to hold you every time he goes to bed. without you the bed just seems so empty; no amount of military training could've prevented him from missing your company.

when luke loves, he loves hard. he probably wouldn't realize the depth of his own emotions, as brilliant as he is. it's very much a playful rivals to friends to lovers situation. i think the two of you would laugh a lot and have a lot of fun; but then there would be such quiet, intimate moments that are high strung with romantic tension. he takes you to new cafes to try their special secret menu items. his drink has a milk foam cap and gives him a moustache... you'd tease him and let him have his own fun at acting out an old man before mindlessly wiping his mouth with a napkin. the way he stutters and freezes up shows he's not as smooth as he'd like to be when it comes to being near you. do you feel proud that you can short circuit the great neo-age sherlock holmes? or are you just a bit embarrassed yourself when he returns the favour, gently plucking fallen dust out of your hair?

---

"So, are you going to tell me what this is about yet?"

You have to yell a little to make yourself heard through your helmet over the purr of Luke's motorcycle. His warmth radiates through his back to your front, and you take the opportunity to wrap your arms around him just a bit tighter, pressing your chest to his back. He isn't going very fast on the residential roads, firmly obeying the speed limits in a way you suspect is because of you.

"You'll see. Have some patience, young grasshopper..."

You have to settle for sucking your teeth and settling back into your spot. You have no idea why Luke called you out this late at night. Though you do love to feel the thrill of night air on your skin on the back of his bike, it seemed a little out of the blue. He had been busy with work ,and you with school, so you hadn't seen him in some time, only for him to be parked outside your house with an urgent but vague come out text.

He finally parked the bike in a deserted dirt lot. There's only one street lamp here, but it revealed nothing, leaving everything in shadowy eerie darkness.

"You take me out here to murder me?" you joked, taking off your helmet. He laughed, but you could tell it was a bit nervous.

"You'll see."

"So mysterious." Begrudgingly, you allow him to keep you in the dark (literally), as he turns on a flashlight that's clipped to his front. It looked like military stealth gear, and you can't help but feel a little underdressed in your pyjamas.

"Should I have brought something?" you asked.

"No. As long as I'm here, you'll be safe." He reached his hand out for you to take. "It'll only be a ten minute walk. I promise."

You have no option but to trust him. But you trusted him wholeheartedly.

The walk was more of a steep uphill hike. Luke's flashlight at least afforded enough visibility for you to take safe steps. He matched his pace with yours, walking behind and encouraging you if you lagged uncertainly. You knew he'd already be at the finish line if you weren't here, and appreciated how he stayed with you.

When you crested the hill, finally, you looked over the city as if it were a chest of precious gems. Lights sparkled in downtown like gold. Car headlights slipped through winding veins of highways. Wind whistled through your hair.

"It's beautiful out here," you gasped. You would've never have found this hideout on your own. Luke smiled, turning off his flashlight so the two of you could stand in the dark and fully admire the view together. You felt his shoulder brush yours—maybe. You were too absorbed in the novelty to check.

"There's actually another purpose to this visit."

You finally glanced over, just in time to see him rear back as if preparing to hurl a softball. Even more surprising was when he suddenly let loose a savage scream.

"Aghhhhhh!" he shouted into the abyss. You stared at him, boggled by the behaviour.

"What are you doing?" you asked when he had ran out of air. He panted before grinning at you.

"Catharsis. You have that final exam coming up soon, right? Let it out."

"No way."

"Nobody can hear you," he promised hoarsely, cheeks flushed as the breeze tousled his messy brown hair. "Only me."

You were still hesitant. You weren't exactly one to flaunt when you were feeling weak. Screaming it out to the hills seemed exactly opposite of what you were used to.

But without Luke, you'd never do the things you would've never done otherwise.

"Aggghhhhhhhhhhh!" you shrieked, exploding into a scream before you could keep second-guessing yourself. You clenched your fists and threw your whole body into it. All the nervousness about failing or not being good enough—you drained it all in the loudest cry you could muster. All your wishes about wanting to be Luke's, but you weren't sure if your feelings would ruin your friendship. You screamed it all out at the top of your lungs. Winding down, you heard Luke chuckle softly before feeling his arms wrap around your body. His chest pressed against your back and his hands found yours.

"Feel better?" he asked, whispering into your ear. Your face was hot even in the brisk autumn night air.

"Uh—yeah. I do."

He pulled away, but you wished he wouldn't. "Ready to go home?"

You grabbed his hand, afforded a bit of bravery from the adrenaline. "Five more minutes here."