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fayes-fics · 6 months

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It Had To Be You: Chapter 8 - I've Changed My Mind, I Take It Back

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Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: The fallout from the best night of your life was never going to be pretty…

artwork credit @colettebronte

Warnings: none, really... just some swearing and brief references to sex. Bit of angst and some arguing.

Word Count: 4.0k

Authors Note: A multi-chapter modern rom-com retelling of When Harry Met Sally. In this chapter, both reader and Benedict deal - poorly - with the aftermath of their amazing night together. Yup, it's a slice of angst while hopefully still serving some laughs. This is what has to happen before these idiots can finally see the truth in the next chapter. Thanks to @colettebronte for the advice and betaing and @sorryallonsy for cheerleading and feedback. I hope you enjoy <3

The next morning, you watch silently, covers pulled up under your chin, as Benedict dresses—your stomach in an odd knot. It’s barely dawn, and you are both uncaffeinated, but still, it's the morning after the best sex of your life, and it’s awkward. And you don't know what to say to make it, well, unawkward.

“I have to go, stupid breakfast meeting about a gallery opportunity. But I'd like to see you later if you are free?” his tone is hedging as he sits on the end of the bed and pulls on his shoes.

“Err, sure. Dinner later?” you offer as he stands up and walks around to your side of the bed.

“Dinner sounds great,” he smiles with relief and leans in, placing a lingering kiss on your forehead.

You try not to wince, but a giant ball of something in the pit of your stomach wants to either push him away and make a joke, tell him to “knock it off, mate,” … or, much preferred, grab him by his stupid bloody shirt collar and give him a proper kiss, tongues and all. Haul him right back into your bed and ride him until you are both screaming.

He hovers over you, and your eyes meet, his dilating as if he reads where your thoughts slid, and with a sharp inhale, he pulls back and folds a lip under his teeth as if forbidding himself from taking action, too.

You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and nod your farewell, burrowing deeper under the duvet, not wanting to see him to the door, not wanting a more stilted goodbye than it already is. You both know there is a shit-ton you need to talk about, but neither of you is capable of the intellectual space to unpack it at 6:30 am on a Friday morning.

As you hear your front door snick closed, you take a deep breath and reach for your phone. To contact the only person who might even begin to understand how seismic this is.

—

“Holy shit!!” Kate shrieks, startling Anthony from his slumber.

“What?!? What is it?!?” he sits bolt upright, half-asleep but panicked, her tone causing bile to rise in his throat. Whatever it is has to be serious.

“It fucking happened!” she exclaims, clutching her phone to her chest, an almost maniacal grin claiming her beautiful features as she leans back against the headboard and kicks her feet up gleefully.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Anthony urges, anxiety rolling off him in waves.

She thrusts her phone towards him, and he snatches it, alarmed. There is a pause while he reads a text, and then he sighs, slumping his head into his hands.

“Kate,” he exhales, rubbing his eyes, “for fucks sake. I thought the world was bloody ending! Or at least someone had fucking died. Not that my brother had sex.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Kate retorts, taking back custody of her device and staring at him as if he is some alien creature. “Our best friends just fucked. HOW IS THAT NOT WORLD-CHANGING NEWS, VISCOUNT ANTHONY BRIDGERTON?!?”

Anthony slumps back onto his pillow with a huge sigh. “Okay, no need to whole name me. I thought you said it was bound to happen someday?” he stifles a yawn as he asks it.

“Yeah, so?! This is still huge news,” she argues, gesturing wildly, absolutely nonplussed by his total lack of reaction.

Anthony hums noncommittally, closing his eyes. Just then, his phone starts vibrating on his bedside table; the display lit up with a photo of his brother's drunken face.

“Is that him?! Get all the gossip!! I need deeeeeetails!!” Kate swats his bicep affectionately.

Anthony rolls his eyes and clicks the green button.

“No one I know would call at this hour,” he grouses in lieu of hello.

—

Benedict spends most of the ride in your building’s lift with his head pressed into the cold mirrored surface, eyes screwed shut, wondering if the world could swallow him up so he doesn’t have to think about anything. It takes every fibre of his willpower not to run back, fling your damn door open and bury himself inside you again. But that might make it weirder.

There's only one voice of reason he can think of.

“I know I'm sorry…” he replies abashedly to his brother's less-than-cheery greeting.

“So uhh, it happened, eh?” Anthony cuts to the chase, and Benedict realises you must have already contacted Kate. “How was it?”

“It was good. REALLY good. But then, this morning, it was like we didn't know what to say to each other. I just had to get out of there before I did something stupid like suggest we do it again. SHIT!! I have no idea what to do.”

“You want to come over for breakfast?” Anthony asks, then raises his eyes to a frantic Kate, making a cutting motion. Anthony can only surmise she has just offered the same to you.

“No, I'm not up to eating. I'm just going to get a coffee and a shower and try not to think about whether I've just fucked up the best friendship I've ever had…” he sighs.

Anthony shakes his head at Kate as she sighs in relief. “Listen, so maybe it didn't work out. It would have been great if it did, but…” Anthony shrugs and mouths, ‘What?’ at Kate, as she smacks his arm and gesticulates wildly.

“Hang up before you make it worse,” she growls as mutely as possible. Anthony knows better than to argue with that face. Last time, he ended up on the sofa for two nights.

“I've uh got to go, but we’ll talk later, okay?” Anthony offers.

“Sure,” Benedict trails off and hangs up.

“God….” Anthony flops onto the mattress, already disliking the day that has barely begun. “Tell me I will never have to be out there again,” he sighs, turning his head to look at Kate.

A beautiful smirk claims her face, and he is pleasantly surprised when she swings a leg over and straddles him, leaning in.

“Baby,” she breathes seductively into his ear, “you will never have to be out there again,” she adds silkily.

And suddenly, his morning is a thousand times better.

—

“It was a mistake,” you blurt out, unable to handle the silence any longer.

You have met Benedict for dinner at Pierre Victoire —something about their Beaujolais and Entrecote Steak et Frites just what you need to face this encounter; hence, it was your suggested spot. But you have barely exchanged a word since greeting each other.

A look of surprise briefly clouds his face, and then he agrees, perhaps a little too enthusiastically for your taste.

“I’m so glad you think so. I couldn’t agree more,” he gusts, a hand clamping over his heart in seeming relief at the break in tension. “I’m not saying it wasn’t great….,” he adds.

“It was,” you cut in, somehow needing him to know that more than anything.

He nods and continues, “It really was…we just should never have done it.”

“Agreed,” you chime in, mirroring his big exhale like a burden has been lifted.

“I’m so relieved,” he sighs as the waiter puts down your steaks.

And somehow, you are back to silence, unsure what else to say to each other. In fact, it stays like that for what feels like an age.

“It’s so nice to be able to sit with someone and not have to talk,” he opines at some point halfway through dinner.

All you can do is nod and take a huge gulp of wine.

Difficult, difficult, lemon, difficult.

—

“Okay, so most of the time when you sleep with someone new, you’re just getting to know each other; you have stories to tell,” you puff, feeling like you are dying.

Kate has dragged you to SoulCycle for a ‘fuckfest postmortem’ first thing the next day. It’s Saturday morning, and frankly, right now, you are wishing she was more of a Bellini-brunch-at-a-gastropub kind of person. She used to be; it's her drive to be ultra fit for her wedding that is at fault - it somehow now being a danger to your health.

“Sure…” she nods, looking enviably unsweaty and beautiful in her tiny lycra outfit.

“But with him, we know all of each other's stories already. So once we had sex, it was like we just didn’t know what else to say to each other,” you struggle out.

“Hmmm,” Kate hums distractedly, checking her Apple Watch.

“Maybe you get to a certain point in a relationship where it’s just too late to have sex, y’know?” you shrug, certain a coronary is about to happen. To the point, you are almost grateful when your shoe slips off the pedal and you fall to the floor in an undignified puddle.

Yup, that seems about right.

—

“Is she bringing anyone to the wedding?” Benedict asks, pulling on the brocade waistcoat handed to him by the kindly old gent.

“Really, you want to do this? Here? Now?” Anthony shoots back exasperated, gesturing pointedly to his full white-tie outfit.

It's three weeks after the ‘incident’, as they have taken to calling it, and the boys are getting suited up for the wedding at the same outfitters on Savile Row that the Bridgertons have been going to for generations. One of those old-fashioned wood-panelled places that doesn't even have a real sign outside.

“I was just asking…” he replies, defensive.

Anthony sighs. “She is seeing some software developer,” he admits, fiddling with some cufflinks. “I don't think it's that serious; Kate says he's not coming to the wedding.”

“What’s he like?” Benedict inquires, and Anthony wants to laugh at how badly he is masking his obvious jealousy with faux indifference.

“Rich, handsome, intelligent, athletic—your basic nightmare,” Anthony shrugs.

The sour face Benedict pulls tells him everything Anthony could ever want to know about just how bad his little brother has it.

—

BB: Miss you, Bluey.

It’s never a good idea to text at 1:30 a.m. Especially not someone you’ve been too embarrassed to contact for a month. And especially when you are pretty drunk and hiding in the toilets of a nightclub, avoiding your inebriated younger brother, Colin, on his birthday. Except here Benedict is, doing precisely that, chewing on his nail, awaiting a response.

Y/N: Bluey….?

Ah, shit.

In his drunken state, he temporarily forgot that’s a private nickname he’s given you. His lovely, little blue lobster. He doubts you even remember that FaceTime call all those months ago. He is trying to find a witty excuse when another message pops up.

Y/N: Miss you too, Nudey-face.

He barks a laugh, still entertained that you find his lack of a beard amusing, even though it's been nine months since he shaved it off.

Y/N: Don’t like that? I've got others…

BB: Oh, this ought to be good.

Y/N: Apple-guzzler

Y/N: Dance-ninja

Y/N: Half-assed-peeping-tom

He is giggling, something in his being so fizzy and light that you have slipped right back into your old ways of texting as if nothing happened.

Y/N: Duvet-hog

That last one makes his heart leap, and his chest constricts, memories of your magical night together flooding back. Something wistful tugging in his gut; the idea that you could have more nights of fantastic sex as well as this fun, playful dynamic he has missed so much. But then he recalls with a bitter taste that you have apparently moved on. Emboldened, he decides to tackle that elephant in the room, whiskey doing the typing as much as he is.

BB: I hear you might have a +1 for the wedding…?

The three dots appear twice over, but then nothing. After eight minutes - he counts - he sighs and slips his phone back into his pocket.

Ah, fuck.

—

You chew your lip. Guilt burning behind your ribs, even as you know it’s ridiculous to feel as such. Part of you feels a hollow victory that he was the one to reach out first, but you know it’s pure liquid courage. Kate texted an hour ago that she had dipped out of Colin’s party, leaving all the brothers worse for wear.

Twice you try to craft a response to his last message, simple then jokey, but both feel wrong. You decide it’s better to not respond. At least not at almost two in the morning with that possible plus one lying asleep next to you. It’s not even something you have broached with him, going to the wedding, and now you’re sure you don’t want him there. He’s nice, but you know it’s a rebound thing—an ego boost, a mildly pleasant distraction at most.

—

“Wear the fucking penises, you coward!” Kate slurs bossily, handing you the cheap plastic deeley boppers with glittery gold cocks.

You sigh. “Fine. But don’t blame me if they don’t let us into this place,” you grumble, tugging your coat tighter around your body and bouncing on your strappy-heeled sandals, trying to fight off the seasonal chill.

This is Kate's hen party weekend in Bath, and it’s not going as you’d planned. After the pampering spa day and fancy meal you had arranged as maid of honour, the evening has descended into debauchery. Her sister Edie had booked a male stripper who was almost traumatised by just how feral Kate turned after the vodka luge (also an Edie addition). Now you are all queued up outside some cheesy nightclub that wasn’t on the cards, but Kate insisted.

“How’s your fancy man?” Eloise asks, bumping you with her shoulder and winking.

“Meh,” you shrug noncommittally, unwilling to confess that you dumped him the morning after Benedict texted. “How’s the Bridgerton clan?”

Eloise pulls a face. “Colin and Pen are fucking too loudly. Hy had a new hobby, taxidermy. Yeah exactly. Greg is now into karate. Oh, and a friend is trying to put the moves on Ben. You know, the usual family ridiculousness…”

“Yeah?” You try to hide your acerbic reaction; part of you is desperate to know more, but another part never wants to hear anything about any woman he may be with.

“Yeah, she’s a baker.” Eloise continues, kicking a stone into the gutter. “She makes 3,000 trifles a week…”

“We’re in!!” Kate yells triumphantly as the bouncer unhooks the velvet rope in front of you.

“But Ben doesn’t even like custard….” you mutter, frowning, as unseen by you, all the girls exchange knowing looks before piling into the club.

—

“Eloise’s friend still hitting on you?” Colin leans in, smirking.

Anthony’s stag do is a paintballing weekend. Colin had lobbied hard for a sleazy weekend in Vilnius, but Anthony had baulked, far too scared of Kate’s reaction to that idea. So here they all are, being rained on and sitting in a muddy ditch somewhere in Berkshire.

“I don't know the polite way to say fuck off,” Benedict professes, screwing one eye shut to stare down the barrel of the rifle.

“Why not have some casual fun?” Colin shrugs, reloading his paintball gun.

“Because when I asked her what she was doing when Boris resigned, she said, ‘Oh, I don't know, was he your assistant or something?’” he deadpans, with a terrible impression, unable to hide his disgust at her ignorance.

“No!” Colin guffaws, disbelieving.

“Exactly…” Benedict retorts, but it morphs into a pained yelp as a paintball smacks heavily into his chest.

“You’re dead motherfucker!!!!” Anthony yells, materialising from nowhere, a Rambo-style headband and vest in place, camouflage streaked across his face, seemingly having the time of his life. He ducks and sprints away before anyone can retaliate.

“Aren't we on the same team?” Colin scowls wearily, watching his retreating figure darting between the trees.

“Yeah….” Benedict sighs, staring at the bright pink splotch and already feeling a bruise blooming on his sternum.

Just bloody great…

—

The wedding day. Kate looks beautiful. Aubrey Hall looks beautiful. The weather is beautiful—a crisp autumnal day with the trees at peak colour all over the grounds, golds and fiery reds glowing in the sunshine. It’s all too much, frankly.

Then, to top it all off, Benedict walks in wearing his custom-fitted best man’s outfit, and you almost trip over your damn feet, even standing entirely still. You haven’t seen him in person since that awkward dinner, and you quickly duck behind a pillar before he can spot you as he takes his place in the processional. It’s only when you reach the doorway that you realise he’ll be standing right next to Ant as you walk up the aisle alone.

I need wine… lots of wine…

His eyes bore into you as you take the slow, silly shuffle that you are required to. A weight on your being that seems to slice through right you, and the claret red silk you wear. You feel you deserve a medal when you make it without stumbling on your heels. You shake your shoulders fractionally as you take your place facing him, a frisson in your spine that feels dangerous.

‘You look beautiful,’ he seems to mouth as the bridal procession pipes up while everyone else’s attention cuts to the doorway. And fuck do you wish he were either a thousand miles away or less than an inch from you, his breath ghosting warm over your skin….

—

The reception is in full swing, the band playing and people dancing when a familiar scent that makes your heart leap fills your nostrils.

“Hi…” it's soft, almost hesitant, as he pulls up beside you.

“Hello…” you try to modulate to casual, but it probably comes off as mildly haughty.

“Beautiful ceremony,” he offers, both of your eyes tracking Kate and Anthony as they dance, blissfully absorbed in each other, radiating joy.

“It was,” you concur politely.

A waiter materialises with a tray of canapes, and you take one, but you don't eat it; just spin the skewer in your hand. Something to fiddle with to deal with the discomfort.

God, I miss the way we used to be…

“How have you been?” you ask a little stiffly.

“Fine,” he offers, and you can tell from a mere sideways glance that he’s lying.

“Why can’t we get past this? This awkwardness. Are we going to carry this around forever??” you blurt out. It's exasperation, not words you have thought carefully about, just a knee-jerk response to your own frustration about how weird things are compared to how they used to be.

“Forever?! It just happened!” he exclaims, his hands gesturing in frustration.

Seeing that you are drawing the attention of people nearby, you spin around and walk out of the room. If this is all going to come out now, which apparently your brain has decided it will, you prefer it not to be witnessed by friends and family. Or be a talking point at your best friend's wedding.

“It happened five weeks ago!” you argue over your shoulder as you stalk down a narrow hallway beyond where the guests are mingling. You know that is not a long time in the grand scheme of things, but feeling the need to argue your corner.

“Yeah, well, you must live in dog years cos it sure as fuck didn't take you very long to find someone else. Obviously, it meant nothing to you,” he spits out, a world of hurt behind the spite in his tone.

You stop dead and spin around, an ache in your chest that is pure indignance mixed with self-hatred for how right he is. He can always hit the bullseye every bloody time when it comes to knowing you better than you know yourself. That fling was a classic rebound, an outlet for your frustrations. Moreover, a distraction from letting yourself spiral about how petrified you are that things will never be the same between you and Benedict and how you feel utterly powerless to fix it, even if you can never bring yourself to regret it. It was too spectacular for that.

“Meant nothing to me?!” you hiss, having to temper your urge to scream. “Really?! You are the one who left! That very next morning, you couldn't wait to get out of there. Who the fuck has a breakfast meeting about art? You are such a liar and a coward!”’ you raise your voice, all your emotions about it finally bubbling over.

“I didn't walk out!” he argues, frowning.

“No, sprinted is more like it!” you bite back bitterly, then turn your heel again, furiously tossing your untouched canape into the first rubbish bin you see.

You flounce down a stone staircase at the back of Aubrey Hall, his footsteps loud behind you, ending up in the kitchens, bustling with catering people.

“We both agreed it was a mistake!” he points out angrily.

“Worst mistake I ever made!” you hurl at him, uncaring of the catering staff around you, watching you both as if a soap opera, eyes pinging back and forth like it's a damn tennis match.

“What do you want from me?” he asks, holding his hands up.

“I don't want anything from you!” you lie, wanting to throw yourself at him. He looks so good in his crisp, tailed suit that it takes every effort not to.

“Let's clear something up,” he starts, jabbing his finger pointedly at the ground to his side. “I did not come over that night to make love to you. That is not why I came over. I came over to look after a friend, you asked me to. But you came onto me, and it took every ounce of my being to say no. You were drunk and emotional; I couldn't take advantage like that. But then, when you sobered up, you looked at me with those big, soft eyes and kissed me. And for fucks sake. What was I supposed to do?! I am only human…” you are transfixed by the vein pulsing in his neck and hate yourself for just how aroused you are by it, by this, by this argument, this fire between you.

“What are you saying?!? That I was a pity fuck?!”

You know full well that is not what he's saying at all, but you just can’t help but poke the proverbial beast. Wanting to goad him into something. Ideally, kissing you senseless.

“There you are!!!”

You both turn around to see Anthony in the doorway, well, more accurately, leaning heavily on the doorframe, apparently quite tipsy. You have no idea how much he may have overheard. “I've been looking all over for you shits. Kate is mad you disappeared. Sent me off to find you. Ooh, I did it. I’ll get an excellent husband gold star, won't I?” he perks with a triumphant arm raise, and you realise he's probably had a lot of champagne and no food.

Both you and Benedict exchange looks, knowing your window of opportunity to hash this out just slammed shut.

Benedict wraps an arm around his sibling’s shoulder. “Come on then, brother. Can't keep the bride waiting. Let's go,” he accommodates, steering them towards the steps with a glance back at you that is weighted.

You trail behind as they walk back to the reception, lingering so you are not drawn into any conversation. By the time you enter the room, Anthony is back at Kate’s side as she is making a toast to the crowd. Benedict is still hovering near the door off to the side, almost as if waiting for you.

“Everybody, I'd like to make a toast to our maid of honour and best man. To y/n and Benedict,” she raises her glass towards you, and everyone turns to see you both standing awkwardly about six feet apart. “If Anthony or I found either one of them remotely attractive, we would not be here today. So thank you!”

The crowd laughs along good-naturedly, and all raise their glasses to you. Kate tilts her head sideways with that beautiful but shit-eating grin she uses when stirring up trouble before taking a swig, staring at you challengingly. Almost as if she can read exactly what has just transpired, or maybe Anthony told her something of what he saw. Either way, You can feel Benedict's eyes on you as you attempt bemusement at her toast and nod with a brittle smile.

Just fucking great…

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies

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the-kr8tor · 9 months

Note

Hi, I've read your "Under the clock tower", and it was really so good it makes me almost bawl my eyes out. I did bawl my eyes out. I really liked that and it gives me an idea to request you :D. Can I request Hobie who recently lost reader find out that the prowler/villain variant of them is also dating their version of the reader, but reader is well and alive [probably partner in crime of v! Hobie] and questioning if his hero persona/work is the reason reader has to die? Thus, causing the "quitting from being the Spider-Man" canon event to happen. You can change as much as you need. Thx for reading my request~

Hi hun! Thank you so much! I'm glad you like under the clock tower, I hope you like this one too! Sorry if this took a while, I had to get into angst mode lmao

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Tags: No specific physical description of the reader, TW injury, TW blood, TW death, ANGST.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Hobie's communicator rings out in the quiet night while on patrol, Lyla's familiar hologram lights up the dim surroundings "Heyyy Hobie, Miguel needs backup"

"I'm busy" Hobie flatly says, perched on top of a random skyscraper.

"Busy what? Being an emo? Gwen's with them, better hurry up" Lyla uses the Gwen card, knowing that will definitely get Hobie to move.

"Goddamnit" Hobie's annoyed that Lyla interrupted his thoughts of you, he seemed to have them more often. Memories of your time together rush past his mind: your first date together, the first time you kissed and when you breathed your last. He laments again, unable to think of fond memories instead of that terrible day.

He misses you so much, he can't concentrate on his work.

Hobie shakes his head, time to focus. Inhale, exhale. He clenches his hands, knuckles shaking, half moons left in his palms.

Hobie punches in the correct coordinates, the bright orange glow of the portal, is a stark contrast to his inner turmoil.

Entering inside, chaos greets him, spider people swing after two anomalies, leaving webs and purple streaks in the night sky. Debris falls, when one of the anomalies shoots something from his palms. Hobie decides to go after this one.

He has the element of surprise, flanking the villain, giving him a swift kick to the face; the force of it shatters his metallic mask, he falls on top of a roof with a thud.

Hobie drops gracefully near him. The eyes of his mask widen at the villain's exposed features. His own face stares at him, scowling in pain.

"You fuck" alternate Hobie cusses at him through gritted teeth, he coughs, crimson staining his lips.

"What the fuck" Hobie yells at the oncoming Miguel.

Miguel lands, his red cape retracting back to his suit, he stalks towards the lookalikes, striding like a predator towards his prey.

"He's the prowler of Earth-616, the Hobie of their universe"

"You're fucking kidding me" they simultaneously say.

Miguel tosses a device, locking alternative Hobie in its red glow.

"Why are there so many of you fucks?!" Alt Hobie grumbles, trying to sit back up.

Suddenly the other anomaly lands harshly on the roof, pounding the ground sending shockwaves, Miguel buries his claws on the ground, Hobie braces himself. Gwen and other spider people land, surrounding the two anomalies.

"Hobie!" You scream out, seeing him injured on the ground.

Hobie's heart crumbles, he never thought he'll hear that voice again, he tried and failed to recreate your voice in his head numerous times. But now you're here alive and well, running towards him.

Or so he thought, he follows your familiar form, shielding the other Hobie from him.

His mind goes back to that terrible day.

Hobie clutches his bloodied side, his knees give out from the numerous injuries. Your familiar sneakers run up to him, when did you get here? Why are you here?

You crouch in front of him, cradling his face, you're moving your lips, but he can't hear your voice through the ringing in his ears. You're covered in soot, eyes wild, trying to stop his bleeding.

Your touch leaves goosebumps on his skin, hands dripping in crimson. You say something again, but he still can't hear you. You give him a pained smile, pecking his forehead through his mask.

You look behind you, yelling out, but you stand up, bravely facing danger, you raise your arms on your sides, shielding him with your own body.

"No!"

He snaps back to reality when he feels a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"You okay?" Gwen whispers.

"Yeah" Hobie's eyes never leave you.

"Stay the fuck away!" Your words dripping in venom, he never heard you yell like that. His eyes water at the thought that you might've sounded like this on that fateful encounter.

Without thinking he takes off his mask, your eyes widen, stuttering with your words. You look back to your Hobie, checking to see if you've got the right guy, he shrugs nonchalantly.

"What–" you get webbed up by Miguel, your head hits the hard concrete, causing both Hobies to jump in your defense.

"Hey!" They both yell out.

You struggle in his hold.

"Enough! We'll stop, yeah?" Alt Hobie's hands try to grasp your wiggling form through the confines of the device, but it's futile, so he screams louder "You've got us already! Let. Them. Go" he punches the device, trying to reach out to you.

"Hobie, it hurts" you look at your Hobie through the bright red lights.

Hobie, without thinking, grabs your head in his hands, cradling it. "I've got you"

You look back at him, confused.

His mind betrays him again, bringing him back to that day.

"I've got you" He cradles your limp body, chest unmoving, he's too late, the light in your eyes is gone, he presses his temple on your forehead head, searching for any sign of life. "I've got you, I'm here"

"Why do you even care?" You look up at him, to you he's the enemy, he understands, but for a second there he thought you were his. "Who are you?"

"Hobie, move" Miguel stands before him, the device in his hand.

Hobie takes one last look at you, he reluctantly puts you down, so Miguel could throw the device at you, finally releasing you from his webs.

"Prepare the anomalies for transport" Miguel commands the waiting spider-people.

Gwen pats Hobie's shoulder, knowing his affection towards you.

—

Hobie walks towards where the anomalies are held, hoping to see a glimpse of you. You sit back to back to your Hobie, separated by the red light, trying to find comfort.

"Told you we shouldn't have entered that weird portal" you scold prowler Hobie.

"Yeah, yeah, remind me not to enter any weird portals from now on"

You laugh, wincing when you strain yourself.

Hobie stops in his tracks when he hears you laugh, he dreams of that same laugh gracing his senses again, now that he's heard it in the waking world, Hobie has no idea how to react to it.

"What is it with your weird fascination with me?" He finds you leaning against the device, staring directly at him, the other Hobie nursing his wounds, listening to the conversation.

Hobie walks towards you, keeping his eyes trained to your form, memorizing every detail of your face. You look the same, he reminds himself that you're not his y/n.

"Well?" You cross your arms on your chest.

"I had someone like you in my universe, sorry for staring" Hobie starts to walk away.

"Wait! What do you mean, had?"

"You even glare at me the same way" He softly says.

"Oh" you piece it all together, you know he's not your Hobie but your heart breaks for him. Hobie thanks you internally for not making him explain, you're good like that.

"Can you- do you want to talk about it?" You crouch down, sneaking a quick look behind your Hobie, he stares back at you, imagining if it happened to him, he has no idea how this version of him is coping, because he wouldn't be able to. "Can't believe you love me in every universe" you look back at the spider Hobie, trying to lighten the mood.

"In every life too, if it's possible" he whispers, with the whir of the device you didn't hear him say it. But your heart shatters with how defeated he looks.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I'm being insensitive, I'm sorry"

"Don't apologize it's not your fault" it's mine he wanted to add, but he didn't want to make you sad, even if it's a different version of you.

You read his face, he's like your own Hobie, holding in a lot of unsaid words. You hesitate for a bit "whatever happened, it's not your fault"

"You were dead, I saw you die, and yet you're standing right in front of me" He has no idea what words to express himself, the pain he's experiencing. "I love you, weird, right? it's bloody confusing" Hobie laughs at the joke life threw at him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't- I'm sorry" you breathe out. "I have no idea of the pain you have in your heart, I'm sorry I really am, but I'm not them,"

"How do you make it go away?" He asks, voice small, he imagines he's talking to you, his version.

"It doesn't completely go away, you learn to live with what's left of that pain" you hold out your palm at him, "but it helps knowing you're not alone" Hobie's mind flickers to the faces of his friends, he brings his hand on top of your palm, the warmth of the machine acts as a surrogate to your warmth, reminding him that at least a version of him still have you in their life. Even though you aren't in his.

"It'll always be you" he looks into your eyes, a slightly different shade than he's used to.

"They know that" you smile at him apologetically. Your Hobie watches the interaction, he feels for the spidey version of him.

—

The spider bot brings you both on the go home machine, you're helping your Hobie stand up, his arm over your shoulder, you tap his chest.

"You still with me?"

He chuckles softly "always"

You look at the other Hobie, staring at you with solemn eyes.

"I hope you find the peace you're looking for" you give him a genuine smile, the same one you used to give him back home.

Peace? How would he find that? Knowing that his job got you killed. Maybe just maybe he actually finds it, but not in this line of work.

What if you're still alive in your dimension because your Hobie isn't exactly a hero? Allowing him to focus more on protecting you, rather than strangers.

He watches as you and the other Hobie get sent back home.

He opens a portal back to his dimension, bones weary. Hobie steps inside, dropping him off in a random alley.

Breathing out, hands shaking, he remembers you, if it weren't for him being Spiderman, you would still be alive, existing in his universe.

"It's my fault" he tears off his suit from his body, leaving him in his shirt, Hobie angrily takes off his mask, he balls it all up, tossing it in the trash.

He wipes at a stray tear, "I'm sorry I couldn't save you"

Hobie walks away, feet heavy, trying to remember what you said to him before you left his world.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed it ❤️

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pistachi0art · 11 months

Text

Deal & Despair 🗡️

(This one is- pretty bloody. Just a heads up. Also it’s- fairly long. 😅 if I post this on A03 I’ll just split it into two chapters.)

Kudos to @justapikachu1 for help with the english to spanish translations. :))

Gordon yawned walking down the sidewalk. It was late and it hadn't been intentional getting wrapped up with studying. He suddenly felt hands wrap around his waist.

“Guess who?” A voice piped. He giggled, playing along.

“I don’t know- are you friends with my roommate?” He laughed. Kell pressed his head onto Gordon’s shoulder.

“Shouldn’t be out this late Gordo- should’ve called me.” Kell snickered, letting go of Gordon and put his hands in his pocket.

“I can’t call strangers?” Gordon snickered.

“Then what were we doing in the library yesterday? Hooking up with strangers now Gordon?” He laughed.

“I kissed you yesterday- it wasn’t a makeout session or anything.” Gordon smiled. Kell gasped dramatically and put a hand on his chest.

“On the mouth!” He cried. Gordon laughed and shoved him. Kell smiled and glanced at his chest.

“Stole my shirt too- tsk tsk.”

Gordon tugged at the Beastie Boys tee.

“I’ll give it back then~ but you can take it off yourself.” He flirted. Kell laughed, and leaned in for a kiss on the cheek.

They kept walking after seeing someone jog past. As much as they had their own PDA, they liked the subtlety of it. Kell kicked a rock as they walked.

“But being real for a sec- call me or something. I’ll pick you up. It’s too late for you to walk out here, Especially alone.” He said, grabbing his hand.

“I can take care of myself- I’m a big guy.” He said, raising his chin.

Kell frowned slightly.

“Well- Just to remind you- people have gone missing around campus-“

“I know- I just think I can handle someone coming at me…” he sighed. There was the sudden noise of rustling behind him. Then a sharp thwack. He felt Kell let go of his hand.

Gordon turned to see him- fall forward. Someone was standing behind him, a bloody hammer in hand. It took a minute to process as he made contact with the ground, Kell landing on his face. A gash on the back of his head. Gordon’s eyes widened as he opened his mouth to scream before feeling something cover his nose and mouth. He raised his hand to pull it off but was held back by another figure by him. It was almost sweet- his eyes grew heavy as someone grabbed him before he slumped over.

…

Gordon grimaced while waking up. Everything was spinning, his vision was blurred. He attempted to reach up to his face to feel for his glasses, but felt his hands tied tightly behind his back. He squinted seeing someone laying beside him.

“Kell-?” He muttered. His speech slurred.

Someone had lit a candle near him. The area itself seemed like a warehouse of sorts.

Kell groaned, looking at Gordon.

“What happened-?” He mumbled and winced.

Gordon squinted, seeing something dark smear on the ground as Kell moved his head.

“You’re bleeding.” Gordon whispered, a rising panic in his voice.

The two went quiet as they heard shuffling. A figure lit another candle. Gordon moved his head.

Someone stood near them. They stared at the two before turning away to talk to another hooded figure.

Kell grit his teeth.

One of the figures put a finger to their lips, and hushed the others as another person walked in.

“No need for monologuing- lets get this thing started.” He stated. There were probably 14- maybe 15 people standing around them.

There were low mutters- like a song. Someone said something about improving the “human drive” but most of the language was strange.

Kell moved towards Gordon, wincing.

“Can you get up?” He murmured.

Gordon shuffled and then shook his head.

Two of the figures approached. One was holding something, though Gordon couldn’t make it out.

The one holding the object loomed over him- to which he then realized they were holding a very large dagger of sorts.

‘Where do you even get something like that-?!’ He thought, panicked.

There seemed to be a silent agreement between the two figures as they lifted the dagger in the air over him- and swiftly swung down.

Despite his head injury, and possible concussion, Kell tossed himself onto Gordon.

He groaned as Gordon heard it sink into Kell.

To then he was swiftly kicked over onto his side, Gordon desperately trying to see where the wound was.

An unfortunate distraction as he had no time to prepare for the dagger being plunged right into his abdomen.

And just as quickly as it was put in, it was as brisky pulled out.

Gordon grit his teeth as he rolled over in pain.

“Kell-?” He stammered.

“I’m here. I’m still here…ghk!” Kell turned to face him, a forced smile on his face. There was blood in his mouth.

Gordon noticed the wound on the lower part of his chest.

“-We-we need to get to a hospital…” he groaned.

The group chanting had ceased.

An eerie silence fell in the room.

There was a creeping feeling of dread. The shadows on the walls seemed to move.

An seemingly inhuman voice echoed through the area, speaking in tongues incomprehensible to some.

“I can smell your desires- your fears- your desperation- your blood…” it seemed to shake the room.

Gordon felt a sudden gust of cold air hit his neck, sending goosebumps down his back. He swallowed a lump in his neck- time felt still.

“What- what are you…?” He mouthed- the tiniest voice broke from his throat.

Silence.

“I am what was and never will be. The dread every being on this planet. The Voice Of Xeno. The unknown.” It rumbled.

“Why did they summon you…? Why do any of this? Why us?” Gordon shivered.

“Their intention was to cleanse the world that troubled them. They targeted those who had seemingly found relief in their troubled lives- specifically to those with strong connections. From their blood, their sacrifices, would give them what they hoped for.” It whispered.

Gordon winced.

“Why are you talking to me?” He swallowed again, before coughing. He was still bleeding, and was beginning to feel quite fatigued.

Silence.

“Their motives bore me- and I find your desperation delicious…”

Gordon coughed. He looked over to Kell.

“I can help you. You can live.” It’s voice clicked.

He breathed.

“All you need to do is give something to me-“

Silence.

“I just-“ Gordon bit his lip, desperately trying not to cry.

“I need Kell and I to be safe- I need us to get out of here. Please.”

Silence. Gordon felt it right behind him, though he dared not turn around.

“What will you give me?”

He felt like he was frozen in place.

“Anything. Please-“ he squeaked.

Silence.

It laughed.

Time continued. Kell looked at Gordon, a confused expression was on his face.

“Are you-“ he coughed. “Are you alright? You were staring- muttering nonsense.”

Gordon was about to reply but before he could do anything, there was a sudden sound of something popping.

Kell glanced up and winced, before noticing both his and Gordon’s ties were undone.

His eyes widened. Looking back, some unknown force had begun to rip the hooded figures apart. Some of their heads- for lack of a better description- had exploded. Screams shrunk down to silence.

“Gordo- w-what happened…?” Kell quivered.

“I…” Gordon couldn’t find the words.

He felt that cold air again. Despite the undone ties, he curled up.

“I’ve done what you’ve asked…” it hissed and giggled.

Kell looked around, trying to pinpoint the source.

“You said you’d give anything to stay safe- so I chose your body. With that, you and the unborn infant within you, your human souls- Your humanity, is mine…” the demon’s voice rumbled.

The room was quiet. Only their raspy breathing was heard now.

“Unborn- baby?” Gordon choked.

“Baby-?” Kell coughed and turned. “Are you- you’re pregnant?”

“I didn’t know…” Gordon winced. He put a hand over the wound on his stomach.

Kell forced a smile, blood pushed on the corners of his lips.

“That’s- ¡Dios Mio…! We’re gonna be parents…” he laughed. Gordon cracked the tiniest of smiles, before grabbing his stomach again. He could feel the blood go through his fingers.

“Wait…souls- humanity…? Are you gonna kill me?” Gordon breathed shakily. The demon slithered over to him and pried his hands off his stomach. Gordon only saw something dark- without a form…

“No- that’d be a waste. I’m going to do something more interesting…” the demon hissed. A tendril shot into the wound.

Gordon jolted upwards, his back arching- and then screamed.

And awful, painful, sensation crept through his abdomen.

He grimaced, squinting through his tears seeing something move up and the tendril. It glowed faintly, dull orange in color. He felt cold at that moment as it disappeared. Another glowing light was pulled out, smaller than the first lacking any color at all.

If Gordon had felt cold before he was feeling the complete opposite now. There was a growing burning sensation on his skin alongside the pain.

“Gordo-?” Kell choked in confusion.

At first felt like a migraine was forming- then it was as if someone was trying to crack open his skull from the inside.

He grabbed his head feeling- horns, sprouting out from under his thick hair. His mouth hurt in the moment too with the sensation of pain slithering to his back. Wings bent and pushed their way out of his skin. They tore through his shirt.

The pain moved to his hands and lower back.

A tail shot out, poking it’s way over the waist of his pants to make room. His nails sharpened.

Then down his feet, the same sensation of something pushing his shoes.

He wailed and slumped over. Tears pricked his eyes, blood from his throat and gums coated his lips and goatee.

He winced as his new tail swung and stretched. Everything felt so uncomfortable. So unnatural.

The tendril removed itself.

Still in that moment he still realized the fatal wound he had, coughing up more blood. Kell choked next to him as well, reminding him that they both were still very screwed.

The demon loomed over Gordon.

“I told you- I told you to keep us safe. We had a deal-!” He sputtered. The demon slunk in front of him, beady red eyes locked with his own.

“You two were hurt before I was summoned. You told me to keep you two safe, and I’ve done so. You never told me to mend your wounds.” It’s voice warped.

Gordon looked at the ground, smeared dark stains covering the area where they were. Kell grabbed onto Gordon’s pant leg. He was so pale.

“I’d give him- 3, no… maybe 2 minutes. Best you apply some pressure to that wound.” The demon hummed. Gordon immediately crawled over to Kell and tore the fabric of his pant leg. He pressed the cloth over the wound, Kell winced.

“I can’t- breathe…” he muttered. “My lung- hurts…” his chest contracted, he breathed out. Specks of blood sputtered from his mouth.

Gordon bit his lip before heeling over again. Kell turned to him, squinting at his abdomen.

“You- your still bleeding- Gordo…” he coughed. “The baby…”

The demon covered the light above the two of them, casting them in a dark shadow.

“I don’t want a demon to go waste now so I’ll give you a word of advice…” it slunk next to Gordon. “Demons typically have a quick healing factor, but that requires a relative amount of power, and power comes from the consumption of- human souls.”

Gordon blinked.

“No- I’m not doing that…” he muttered. Kell turned and tilted his head.

“Tu cara es tan rosita...” He muttered “…como la luz de las estrellas…” Gordon lifted him up on his knee.

“Kell-? Are you all here…?” He said, his mouth feeling dry despite all the blood.

“Particularly, for succubus, all it takes is a kiss…” the demon whispered.

“Shut up,” Gordon spat, not even turning. “Kell?” His voice squeaked.

“Got any ideas for a name?” Kell spoke softly, he weakly touched Gordon’s hair. Strands wrapped around his bloody fingers.

“What are you talking about..?”

“Bebé…” he hummed. He closed his eyes momentarily, giving a gap-toothed smile. “Our baby…”

Gordon gave a soft sob, still holding the cloth over his wound.

“Maybe- Paola. Like my abuela…” he said, staring off past Gordon.

“I’m gonna get help ok? You’re- we’re gonna be fine. I promise…” Gordon said, quivering. Kell fully locked eyes with Gordon at that moment.

“Te amo, Gordo- and I’m sure my parents will love you too no matter what.” He said yanking Gordon forward, planting Gordon’s lips on his own.

Gordon felt something warm move into his mouth, and as quickly as it was there it disappeared.

He frantically pushed Kell off. His eyes looked- dull. A smile plastered on his face.

“Te veo mañana…” he breathed.

Then everything stopped.

No more raspy breaths, no more groans of pain,

Not even a pulse.

Gordon sobbed, pulling up the shell of what once was Kell into an embrace.

His own pain was gone, the wound had healed, but everything was still scarred.

#demon gordon au #:))#PREPARE #this one hurts #oc x canon ig #idk how to properly tag this #not maintaining #tw blood #tw gore?#body horror maybe slightly

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kamikazeworld-art · 2 years

Text

Cross-posted and collected on Ao3! Please share here and comment/leave kudos over there, I thrive off validation ; w ; <33

First chapter of my fic for @seven-sins-zadr based on the prompt "Wrath" under the cut! 638 words total. Enjoy!

They had been going for half an hour and Dib didn’t even know what they were fighting about anymore. It was always something; a dumb joke that landed wrong, someone forgot to do a chore, two geniuses simply being too stubborn to not butt heads… It didn’t really matter, he thought, because it always resulted in the same thing.

“You’re such a fucking asshole!” he yelled. Zim was glaring murder at him.

“YOU’RE the asshole!” he bellowed back. He was so damn loud, but Dib would not let him win, not even in this.

“SHUT UP!” he yelled back. “Just shut the fuck up already! Every single thing that comes out of your mouth drives me INSANE, I fucking can’t with you! You never listen, you never give a single shit about anyone but yourself, you’re so fucking useless–”

A fist slammed hard into Dib’s mouth, effectively cutting him off. He only just felt the sting of his lip having split against his teeth, but he didn’t, couldn’t care; he was too angry.

It was on now.

Not thinking of anything but how much he wanted to drive his entire fist through Zim’s skull, Dib launched, both of them screaming, overcome by a kind of primal rage only the other could drag out of them. Fists flew, feet kicked, hair was pulled, and at one point Zim got in a nasty bite at Dib’s arm.

Later, when they were both spent and aching and covered in blooming bruises, scrapes and even blood, they would lay on the floor, harsh and labored breathing filling the stillness of dust settling. This time saw them side by side, an arm’s length between them.

Dib looked over at Zim, who was glaring at the ceiling with his one good eye and waiting for his injuries to heal (a benefit he had that Dib always envied).

“Hey,” he tried, the word coming out in a breathless hiss. Zim grunted in response. “Zim. Look at me?”

It took a moment, but eventually he did, giving Dib full view of the other eye he busted and making him wince. His own bloodied and bruised cheek and lips stung in sympathy.

“I’m sorry,” Dib whispered. It was so quiet in the aftermath of their screaming, he couldn’t bring himself to speak louder. He didn’t think his throat would allow it if he tried.

Zim continued to stare at him, expression tired and unreadable.

“I’m sorry for… for the eye. And everything else. I didn’t mean any of the things I said, I was just so, so angry. I didn’t mean it. You know that… right?”

“I know,” Zim said. He tilted his head to look away from Dib’s eyes, gaze resting near his chest instead. “I’m… sorry too.”

“You’re not useless,” Dib insisted. “You’re not.”

“Neither are you,” Zim said back. He sounded as tired as Dib felt.

"We should… We should probably figure out a way to deal with these things without pummeling each other senseless, huh,” Dib proposed with a self deprecating huff. He watched Zim shrug next to him.

Silence fell around them for a moment, joining the stillness. They weren’t breathing as harshly anymore.

“Hey,” Dib prodded.

“What?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Dib.” He let out a sigh. “I can… Zim can try, if you can too. To be less… angry.”

“Yeah? We can try together. Sounds good?”

Zim finally looked back at him, a small, hopeful smile on his green lips. Even beaten up, he looked gorgeous like that, and Dib found himself matching the expression (split, aching lips be damned). They reached their hands across the space separating them, palms finding each other and fingers intertwining with the ease of practice made habit. Zim moved their joined hands to place a kiss on Dib’s bruised knuckles.

“Together.”

#zadr #seven sins zadr week #seven sins zadr #zim x dib #dib x zim #iz fanfic #zadr fanfiction #fanfiction #neko writes stuff

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ofpineapplesanddawns · 2 years

Note

Because I couldn’t resist asking for another prompt:

Showering together

- Thorne Jamison x Peter Vincent

It's been forever since I've written these disasters together!

Now, sadly, I have to follow tumblr's guidelines, or else I'll get in trouble, so this is strictly fluff.

On with the fic!

"You look a fuckin' mess, sweetheart." Thorne said instead of saying hello or asking if Peter was alright.

Peter, for his part, glared at him and shoved past to get into the suite, removing his filthy, leather jacket, and shaking out his hair, ash and dust coming from it. "Well, when one is out and about, killin' a roamin' gang of vampires to keep people alive in this city, you're gonna end up gettin' dirty."

Thorne shrugged, fair point. But hey, he wasn't the one who decided to become a real-life Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Hm, he wondered if he should suggest to Peter that he should dress a bit more like her, he was sure that the actor could pull off her looks. "Nice." He said quietly to himself, which got him a look from Peter.

"What's nice?"

"Your ass in those jeans, for one." Thorne smirked, walking over and giving him a pinch, making Peter stand up straight with a squeak. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up, then we can chill or somethin'."

"It's three in the mornin', shouldn't you be sleepin'?"

"If I was, then why did you bother coming here?"

"I figured you were still up, considering that text you sent me." Peter said, and Thorne grinned wickedly before making his way to the bathroom.

Peter entered a second later, now without boots and socks, down to just his impossibly-tight jeans and a shirt that might have once been designer but clearly became a hunting shirt. He raised an eyebrow at Thorne who had just kicked off his sweatpants. "You joinin'?" He asked.

"I'm up for giving you a wash." Thorne winked and tossed his shirt across the room, missing the hamper by a foot. "Now, strip."

"Yes, sir." Peter stuck out his tongue and quickly got out of his clothes, and they entered the standing shower together.

Thorne hummed something to himself as he moved behind Peter, grabbing for the shampoo. "Gonna make you nice and clean, not havin' a dusty, bloody Vincent in my bed tonight."

"Must you be such a cock about things? I'm trying to have a nice time." Peter huffed.

"You know how we are, sweetheart. Close your eyes and relax." Thorne lathered up the shampoo and started to rub his fingers into the taller man's hair, hearing a small, pleased moan as he started to lightly scratch his scalp.

He worked it into those thick locks and leaned forward, kissing the back of Peter's neck. "Did you lick some serious butt tonight, Peter?" He asked.

"Kick. It's kick, Thorne, for heaven's sake." Peter snorted, knowing that the musician did that on purpose. "And I did, took out four of 'em."

"Good boy." Thorne replied and had him rinse his hair before grabbing for the loofa and the bodywash. He looked over Peter's body as he helped him clean up, happy to not see any new bruises, just the old one from a previous hunt.

And a few bruises that were from teeth and rough fingers that Thorne was proud to have left there.

As he finished up, he looked up at Peter, a little smirk forming on his lips as he leaned in, kissing him on the lips. Their arrangement of just being fuck buddies was seeming to slip, or at least gain new rules, but neither spoke about those things, never confirmed nor denied the changes.

This was one of those things that wasn't going to be addressed, do fuck buddies shower just to shower and make sure the other is okay?

Probably.

#thorne jamison x peter vincent #john's drabbles #good omens extended universe

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seijorhi · 3 years

Text

Finders Keepers

the long awaited (sorry!) zombie au. hope y’all enjoy

Seijoh 4 x female reader & Miya twins x female reader

TW Blood, gore, angst, um... toxic relationships?

“Let me see.”

It’s little more than a murmur, but in the quiet stillness of the night your voice carries. It hardly matters; Oikawa has you close, tucked under his arm with his injured leg stretched out between the two of you. He could stop you if he really wanted, but he only watches, those tired, wary eyes fixed on your face as you reach for his pants.

“It’s fine,” he grunts out, yet he can barely get the words out before he’s hissing through his teeth – a knee jerk reaction to the scrape of rough fabric against his wound. His fingers are digging painfully into your arm, and it doesn’t make a difference how gentle you try to be, how many stammered apologies fall from your lips, your fingers are stiff and clumsy and his pants are caked with dried blood and grime, hindering the process.

Pursing your lips, you glance up. “This would go easier if you took these off, you know.”

He cracks a smile at that, strained and tense, but your chest still flutters at the sight of it. “If you wanna get my pants off so badly, cutie, all you had to do was ask.”

“Tooru,” you begin, but he sighs heavily and that brief flicker of mirth glimmering in his eyes fades. Reaching over he picks up his hunting knife, pressing the handle into your palm and letting his fingers slowly curl around yours. The weight of it feels unwieldy and foreign in your hand, and you can’t quite say for sure if the way your breath picks up and hitches is due to your nerves or the way Oikawa’s watching you, his warm hand still wrapped around yours.

“Cut it, then.”

The knife helps, shearing through his pants like butter, but the wound itself is messy – torn threads plastered to congealed blood and dirt – and blunt fingernails sink into your skin and Oikawa grits out a curse when you try to gently ease them free.

It’s worse than you’d thought. A lot worse. Raked over his right knee, five gouges, jagged and gruesome, raw flesh and muscle exposed beneath. Your stomach roils at the sight of it, bile creeping up your throat, and for a moment you’re astounded by how calm he is, sitting there beside you.

If it were you, you’re fairly sure you’d be rolling on the ground howling by now, but the only hint of pain Oikawa’s face betrays is the tightness of his jaw, teeth clenched even as he looses a shuddering breath.

“I-I’ll go see if I can find something to…” to what? Clean the wound? Stitch it? You’re not an idiot, unless this little cottage has an incredibly well stocked first aid kit, you know you’re in trouble. And even if it does, beyond the very basics of clean, disinfect and bandage, you don’t know how the hell you’re supposed to fix this.

Iwaizumi was always the one to stitch up their wounds, muttering obscenities under his breath and glaring at them the whole time. It was their own idiot faults for putting themselves in a position where they could get hurt in the first place, he’d say, they could deal with a little pain while he fixed them up. But as you stare at the grisly mess of Oikawa’s knee, there’s a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach that this might be beyond even Iwa’s level of expertise.

It doesn’t matter anyway, because Iwa isn’t here.

Makki and Mattsun aren’t either.

And strangely enough, it’s not the fear of the creatures lurking in the woods that’s gnawing at your gut. It’s Oikawa’s injury, the blood and mangled mess that you can’t even begin to fix, the thought of the trap that’s awaiting the others back at the sanctuary. It’s that feeling of helplessness that’s tightening around your neck like a noose.

“Hey,” Oikawa calls, snagging at your wrist when you try to pull away. “They’ll find us, have a little faith.”

Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you nod. “I know.”

You don’t have the guts to tell him that that’s only half the problem.

Making do with vodka and some old bandages you’d scrounged up from a first aid kit under the sink, you do what you can for Tooru’s knee. Working by the light of a few flickering candles, your hands shaking like a leaf, it's a job easier said than done, and you can’t help but wince at every pained hiss and grunt that escapes him.

It’s a hack job, a bandaid over a gaping wound, but he thanks you for it anyway, pressing an affectionate kiss to your temple as he drags you closer once more. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he murmurs, and the words hang heavy over the both of you; a promise and a sobering reminder in one.

Tucked up in his embrace, you shut your eyes and will yourself to fall asleep.

Yet the moment you do, you’re right back there again: the hallway doors bursting open and the undead pouring through. Rotting and snarling, the sound of panicked shrieks tearing through the sanctuary in their wake.

Tooru’s hand in yours, yanking you along as he ran. Your heartbeat, pounding in your ears as you gasped for breath, your chest burning. And the fear, the horror that threatened to choke you as the others fell behind, their frantic pleas turning into agonised screams.

Everybody else first. The words spoken before any one of them left the safety of the sanctuary; you’d always assumed it was a grim kind of joke between the boys, a good luck charm. How many times had you heard Mattsun laugh it, clapping Iwa on the shoulder, or Makki for that matter, or Oikawa?

‘Come home safe’, you’d thought it meant, not ‘rip the guns out of other survivors’ hands and throw them back into the path of the oncoming undead’.

And then you’d stumbled, tripping over your own two feet. You remember Oikawa cursing, the pain that radiated up your knees and the palms of your hands as you hit the floor hard, and the absolute, bone chilling terror that surged through you when you looked up and saw one of the undead creatures lunge for you; jaw hanging loose, more ripped flesh and gristle than an actual mouth–

Oikawa was too far away, too slow, and even if he wasn’t, you’d just witnessed the lengths he’d go to for self preservation. You’d screamed for him anyway, squeezing your eyes shut and praying you’d go quickly when those fingers and yellowing teeth dug into your flesh and ripped you apart.

And in the space of a single petrified heartbeat, three shots had rung through the air, a warm wetness splattering against your cheek. Tooru was there, kicking the rotting corpse away from you and hauling you back to your feet, back safely against his side.

But the next one was quicker, leaping over the husk of its fallen friend, snarling and bloody and savage, and then it was Tooru who was screaming, undead fingers sinking into the flesh of his leg, ripping as it tried to claw him back.

Heart pounding viciously, your eyes shoot open in the darkness.

Even with the reassurance of Oikawa’s frame pressed up behind you, his breath warm against your skin, sleep doesn’t come easy, and the dawn brings little reprieve.

Stupidly, you’d hoped – prayed – that somehow through the night he might’ve gotten better. It was early in the morning when you’d felt him start to shiver against you. You’d tried to roll away, to give him space so you wouldn’t accidentally knock his leg, but Tooru was having none of it, burrowing in closer, his grip tightening.

And when you’d felt him start to sweat, his arms becoming sticky and clammy, his shirt dampening at your back, that slow, cloying sense of dread took root inside of your stomach.

Under the first rays of morning light, the true extent of Oikawa’s condition is unignorable. Without the luxury of being able to properly close the wound, blood’s seeped through the bandages overnight, leaving them a mottled, macabre red. His face is pale, a thin sheen of sweat dotting at his brow and with every shallow, rattling breath he takes, his body trembles.

It’s more than just simple blood loss.

You think for a moment that he’s unconscious, long lashes fanned out over flushed cheekbones, but the moment you reach for the bandages, his eyes snap open. “Don’t,” he rasps.

You frown, “Tooru–”

“No,” he says. “It’s fine. Leave it alone.”

Between him and Iwaizumi, and to a certain extent, Makki and Mattsun, you’ve never had much of a say in how things are run. You’ve never questioned that they’re the ones in charge, Oikawa most of all. They’re the ones who’ve kept you safe, kept you alive all this time, and all they’ve ever asked of you is that you do what they say.

And you have. Always. Because without them, you’d be dead. You don’t have to pick up a gun and fight, because they do it for you. You don’t have to go on supply runs because they take care of it, they take care of you. And it’s never mattered whether it’s just been the five of you out there alone, or if you were banding together with other survivors; that’s never changed – no matter how many dirty looks it earned you from the others.

You are their responsibility, but in return, you do what they tell you without question.

But this–

This isn’t like that. This isn’t you begging Iwaizumi to take you with him on perimeter patrol because you’ve been cooped up for what feels like weeks, or pouting because they’re deliberately keeping things from you again.

And maybe they have kept you in the dark, but you’re not blind and you’re not stupid. The reality of this situation hasn’t escaped you.

The sanctuary’s overrun, and if – when – Iwa, Makki and Mattsun make it back, they’ll be walking into an ambush. Even if by some miracle they do manage to all make it out unscathed and somehow figure out a way to pick up your trail, there’s no telling how long it’ll take for them to find their way back to you.

(You can’t bear to think about the possibility of them not coming home; you won’t.)

Right now, it’s just you and Oikawa, stuck in some abandoned cottage in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a rifle and a baseball bat between you. You have no food, no supplies and he’s getting weaker by the minute.

You’re terrified.

And you don’t have the luxury of sitting back and letting somebody else take care of you anymore. You don’t stand a chance of survival without Oikawa, and right now he doesn’t stand a chance without you.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you shake your head. “Okay, I won’t touch it, but I’m not just going to sit here and watch you get worse.” Smoothing your palms over your lap, you take a deep breath in through your nose. “There’s a prison–”

“No.”

“Tooru–”

“I said no,” he snaps.

Biting back a sigh, you try again, “Tooru, there might be supplies there,” you plead. “Painkillers, antibiotics, something that might help–”

“I don’t need antibiotics and you’re not leaving. We need to stay here where it’s safe until the others find us,” he grits out, eyes narrowing dangerously.

Normally, this would be the point that you’d back off, running off to lick your wounds before he decided to get mean, but even as some part of you cowers at the mere thought of upsetting him, this time you don’t back down.

He watches warily as you lean over, pressing a kiss to his cheek, gently smoothing damp brown locks back from his sweat slicked forehead. “I don’t know when Iwa’s coming back,” you murmur. “But until he does, the prison’s our best chance, if I can just–”

“No!” he snarls, cutting you off once again.

His eyes are manic now, blown wide and glazed over, he’s shivering, his breath a faint rattle – but his grip is iron, long fingers clutching at you desperately when you jerk back with a gasp.

“You don’t leave me.”

You don’t want to.

It’d be easy not to, to sit and stay with him and pretend that your world isn’t falling apart and he isn’t dying. You’ve never been a fighter, always too soft, too weak, too naive to survive out there on your own. The thought of setting one foot outside of that door without him by your side fills you with absolute terror, but what other options do you have?

He might not like it, but you’re out of time – this decision isn’t his to make anymore.

“Tooru, I-I have to, you know–”

“No!” he snaps, dragging you closer. “You’re not leaving me, I won’t fucking let you!”

Your hand trembles when you reach up to take his, easing it from your shirt and bringing it to your lips. Tears spill from your lashes, falling in heavy droplets against the back of his hand as Oikawa makes a pained sound.

“Please don’t go.”

You both know he can’t stop you.

“Keep the gun,” you tell him, mustering up a tight, watery smile. “Anything but Iwa and our boys comes through that door, shoot it.”

—

It seems a cruel, twisted joke that you find a perfectly good truck sitting a little ways up the driveway, just begging to be used – with no way of getting it started.

Mattsun always made hot wiring look so easy, tossing you a wink when the engine rumbled to life, as if it was a neat little party trick he’d pulled out just to impress you. He did it so quickly, so smoothly, ripping the wires out and sparking them like it was second nature, but he’d never bothered to actually explain what he was doing to you.

And why would he? Between the four of them, there’d always be somebody else to take care of it for you. It’s the same reason they never taught you how to shoot, never taught you how to fight beyond the very basics of self defence.

Now, trudging along the side of the barren road with nothing but your baseball bat and a canteen of water slung over your hip, you find yourself wishing you’d paid a little more attention. Ten miles hadn’t seemed that far on paper – it was less than the trek back into town and you’d figured a safer bet, but walking around in broad daylight without any kind of real protection feels like you’re begging to be preyed upon. Yet by some stroke of luck (and despite that persistent nagging sense that you’re being watched) you manage to make it to the perimeter gates without coming across another soul, dead or alive.

The towering brick walls topped with spirals of barbed wire that line the prison complex are as imposing as they are unbreachable, and for a moment, standing there staring up at them, you feel a crushing sense of disappointment. You’ve walked over two hours, left Tooru in pain and alone for nothing. There’s no way in hell you’re gonna be able to scale those walls, and without any kind of bolt cutters or firepower, you’re not sure how you’re supposed to get past the front gates.

Iwa would’ve known that. Iwa would’ve been better prepared.

But as you draw closer to the guardhouse, you’re pleasantly surprised to find that it’s not a problem. The heavy wrought iron gate’s already unlocked and open, creaking in the breeze. And really, that should have been the first warning sign, but you’re too busy thanking your lucky stars as you slide on through to pay attention to things like that.

The courtyard is just as deserted. The crunch of gravel underfoot echoes too loud, setting your nerves on edge as you make your way towards the imposing structure. It’s quiet, eerily so – even the birds seem to have disappeared. Is this how all raids feel, you wonder as you climb the steps towards the door. This sense of foreboding dread that settles in your stomach, the goosebumps that prickle down your arms?

Your grip tightens around the handle of your bat and you press gingerly against the door – just like the guardhouse gate, it gives under your touch, swinging open wide. It’s dark inside; you hadn’t thought to bring a torch and with the absence of any windows lining the corridor it’s near pitch black. Your heart hammers inside your chest, every cell in your body screaming at you to turn around and run back to Tooru, but you’ve come this far already.

The undead flock to fresh, living meat. It’s been months since the outbreak began; anyone unfortunate enough to have found themselves trapped inside when it happened is probably long dead, and any of the undead likely long gone.

It’s just a little darkness.

Steeling your nerves you creep through the black, clutching tightly at your bat, toeing your way down the corridor waiting for your eyes to adjust to the dim. Every breath you draw in feels too loud, every step too obnoxious. Deserted or not, the sooner you can find the med-bay, get what you need for Oikawa and get out, the better.

The layout’s simple enough – five looming multi-storied wings breaking off like fingers from the central watch-tower, but you don’t have a clue which one holds what you’re seeking. Your only option is to search them one by one and hope for the best.

You’d expected steel bars and heavy locks, but the prison reminds you strangely of a school instead; long hallways lined with doors, each with a tiny window to peek through. They’re all open now of course, whatever locking mechanism keeping them shut having failed when the generators ran out. The first few are empty, barren and stripped of everything but soiled mattresses – it should be a relief.

There’s nothing waiting for you in the darkness but empty halls and emptier rooms. If the others were here, they’d be teasing you for sure. Or Makki and Mattsun would, at least. You always were such a scared little baby – their scared little baby – you’d jump at your own shadow if you didn’t have them around.

And it’s easier to keep going imagining them there by your side, the jokes they’d crack, the warmth of Iwa’s hand in yours, or Makki’s arm slung over your shoulder. You’d feel safe with them. You wouldn’t need to feel afraid.

But no amount of pretend comfort is enough to allay the heavy sense of dread that’s sitting in your stomach, growing harder and harder to ignore with every passing minute. And the problem, you realise, with the prison being so deadly quiet is that every noise, no matter how quiet, echoes.

Climbing the stairs in the dark, you don’t notice the slickness on the walls either side of you, the red handprints smeared messily over white paint. You don’t see the broken, bloody fingernails littering the steps beneath you.

You hear it though, when you reach the landing. It’s soft. A quiet, wet squelching, ripping–

There’s no screams accompanying it like there were back when the sanctuary was overrun, but it’s not a sound you’re gonna be able to forget any time soon. In the dark you freeze, not daring to so much as breathe as you peer down the endless corridor, trying to pinpoint which of the cells it’s coming from.

In the end, you decide that it doesn’t matter.

They’re quicker when they’ve fed, stronger too, and there’s not a chance in hell that you’re going to be able to fumble past in the dark without drawing that thing’s attention. The wooden bat in your hands feels heavy, your palms already slick with sweat. You weren’t quick enough back at the sanctuary; without Tooru, that thing would’ve eaten you. And suddenly it seems laughable that you came out here, that you genuinely thought you could handle this – fight one of them off if it came down to it.

Tooru needs those meds, you know that, and you might be useless and weak and absolutely paralysed with fear, but you’re not stupid. You can’t help him at all if you’re torn apart by one of those creatures.

Your pulse racing, a potent mix of adrenaline and sheer, unrelenting terror coursing through your veins, you draw in a quiet breath, slowly lifting your foot to back away. It hasn’t heard you yet, and so long as it’s distracted–

“Oi, hurry up! I know what I saw, she came in this way.”

“Jesus, just shut up for a sec, wouldja! Ya don’t need to keep yellin’ at me, I’m comin’!”

Through the grate at your feet, you see two beams of light break through the darkness, the sound of loud, heavy footsteps echoing down the wing. Icy claws tighten like a vice around your heart and you still once more, squeezing your eyes shut as you listen, praying…

The squelching’s stopped.

Grip tight around the handle of your bat, your entire body quaking with fear, you watch with wide, stricken eyes as one of the doors halfway down the block slowly creaks outwards.

For a heartbeat, there’s nothing, and you try and convince yourself it’s just the wind, that you’re imagining things and your mind is playing mean tricks on you–

A feral snarl rips through the air, and before you can so much as scream it’s crashing through the open doorway, head swivelling as it searches for the source of the disturbance. In the dark you can’t make out much, only that it’s huge, half its flesh torn and decaying, smeared with blood and filth – but you see it when those white, cloudy eyes fix on you, its rotting mouth bared and salivating.

And this time you do scream. You scream for Oikawa, for Iwa, for Makki and Mattsun and the faceless strangers on the floor below as you cast your bat aside and run. You don’t dare look over your shoulder as you take the stairs two, three at a time, slipping and slamming into the stairwell wall, a sharp burst of pain radiating down your shoulder – you can hear it giving chase, the rabid growls and snarls too close for comfort.

Tears flood your eyes, your chest heaving with every desperate breath as your feet hit solid ground once more and you take off.

“Please!” you sob as you run, blinded by the brightness of the torch beam as it’s shone in your direction. “PLEASE HELP ME!”

You can’t outrun it forever. Even now, you hear it gaining on you, its hot, foul breath puffing against your back – it’s just like back at the sanctuary. It’s gonna catch you, rip into you and feast while you choke to death on your own blood and screams, and this time you won’t have Oikawa here to save you. You’re going to die in agony, torn apart and devoured, and it’s all your own stupid fault.

Your throat tightens, more tears springing free. You can’t see anything beyond those two blinding lights, moving now, dancing across the field of your vision. “PLEASE!” you shriek, desperate and hoarse as the undead creature behind you readies itself to pounce.

Please don’t leave me here to die.

And for one heart wrenching second, you think back to your boys, and the words they’d said before kissing you goodbye. Everybody else first. Maybe this is some kind of divine retribution, you think. Maybe when the world went to hell people became cold and selfish and you deserve this for sitting back and letting others die in your place.

“Get down!” the voice yells, and you don’t even stop to think before you drop, sliding across the floor. There’s another blinding flash, a shot fired into the dark and all you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and hug your knees to your chest as the creature snarls in anger and jerks backwards, a gruesome spurt of blood spraying over you.

“Ya fucking missed! How could ya fucking miss?!”

The gun cocks and reloads, another deafening shot ringing out above you and you flinch, your nails biting into the soft skin of your palm–

But this time the bullet hits its mark. The creature crashes to the floor with a loud thump and doesn’t move again.

You don’t waste a second scrambling to your feet, launching yourself into the arms of your saviour. You don’t care that you’re crying, that you’re covered in blood and filth and god knows what else, you cling to him like he’s a lifeline, sobbing into his shoulder. And instead of pushing you away like he probably should, he lets out a short huff that sounds almost like a laugh, his arm curling around your waist.

“I’m the one who shot the damn thing,” the other mutters sourly.

The man holding you snorts, “Nah, yer the idiot who missed.” Belatedly, you realise that he’s still gripping his gun, the brightness you’d assumed to have come from a torch actually from a light mounted to the barrel. He slings the rifle carelessly over his shoulder, drawing back slightly to appraise you. “Now, wanna tell me what a sweet thing like you’s doin’ all alone in a place like this?”

With your eyes now adjusting to the light, you can see that the two of them can’t be much older than you. They’re both tall, broad shouldered and handsome, the same jawline, the same slope to their nose, nearly identical hooded eyes – brothers you decide, maybe even twins. And they’re both smirking at you, not with the relief of just barely escaping a brush with a particularly gruesome death, but with an odd sort of lackadaisical amusement, as if this – skulking through dark, abandoned places, killing the undead – is nothing out of the ordinary for them.

And from the ease with which they carry their weapons, maybe it isn’t.

Oikawa warned you about men like them. Men in general, really. Even the ones who smiled at you back at the sanctuary, the ones who offered to help you move heavy supplies when they saw you struggling – at least, until Iwa or one of the others stepped in with a poisonous glare. Anyone who wasn’t them was dangerous, a threat, just waiting in the wings to take advantage of a pretty, dumb little thing like you.

And maybe he’s right, but when the one holding you instead drags you closer, wraps an arm around your shoulders and begins to lead you back towards the guard tower as his brother falls into step on your other side, you don’t shrug him off.

Oikawa isn’t here, and they have just saved your life. That has to count for something, right?

“I-I thought it’d be safe,” you confess breathlessly, trying not to focus on the thumb sweeping over the curve of your shoulder. “Well, empty at least. I didn’t have a choice.” And they listen, sharing glances in the dark as you tell them about what’d happened at the sanctuary, about Oikawa and the desperation that’d led you to leave him and walk miles alone to try and find some kind of medicine–

Until a snicker interrupts you. “Sorry,” the blonde mutters, though he doesn’t look all that sincere when your eyes flash to his. “It’s just…”

“Anythin’ worth taking woulda been snatched up months ago,” the darker haired one interjects.

“There ain’t nothin’ here but the occasional idiot tryna set up camp an’… Well, ya saw how well that turned out.”

It hits you like a gut punch, forcing the air from your lungs in a harsh, gasping breath. There was never anything here, everything… all of it was a waste. You came all this way, left him feverish and screaming himself hoarse for you, risked your life, almost died and–

It was all for nothing.

Fresh tears sting at your eyes, they’re still talking but it’s just white noise washing over you. You don’t even realise they’re leading you back outside until you’re walking through the doors, the sudden burst of sunlight making you flinch. But it doesn’t matter. None of it matters anymore.

You’re an idiot.

A naive, dumb little girl who was stupid enough to think this half cocked plan was gonna work. That you would make it back to Tooru in one piece, medicine in hand to save the day and prove you weren’t the helpless damsel they’d pegged you for.

You’ve wasted so much time, for nothing.

There’s no drugs, no food, nothing that’s gonna help either one of you make it through the next few days and suddenly you’re drowning under a wave of hopelessness and bitter disappointment. You fall to your knees in the dirt, taking both your saviours by surprise, and let out a painful, heart wrenching sob. And once you start, you can’t seem to stop. It’s overwhelming, every emotion you’ve bottled up and shoved aside over the last two days suddenly forced into the light. You cry for yourself, for Tooru – for Iwa and Makki and Mattsun. You cry until it feels like you can’t breathe anymore, and then there’s rough calloused fingers brushing your tears away.

You look up through wet lashes to find the dark-haired man crouching before you, his expression sober. “Ya don’t need to cry, sweetheart, we’re not monsters y’know.”

His brother chuckles behind you, “We’re not about to leave some pretty little thing all alone out here to starve to death.” His hand’s resting atop your head now, smoothing down the hair at your crown. It’s soft and soothing, and you’re so attuned to seeking comfort that you can’t help but lean into it, eyes momentarily fluttering shut. “We’ve got some friends nearby, a nice little hideaway stocked full of all kinds of shit. Everything ya could possibly need.”

“Y-you mean it?” you ask, wide eyes flickering to the dark haired one, who smiles at last. “You’ll share them with me?”

“‘Course we do. Meds, food, weapons. Whatever ya want, it’s yours.”

You take the hand he offers to help you stand, your limbs trembling once more – but this time it’s not from fear or exhaustion, but the overwhelming rush of sheer relief. You could kiss him, kiss them both, but you don’t.

Instead you settle for throwing your arms around them once more, breathless thanks falling from your lips faster than they can catch as you hug them tight. They don’t seem to mind though, sharing almost identical smirks as the three of you head out to an old, beat up camaro parked out by the entrance to the prison. While the blonde slides in the driver’s seat and his brother takes the passenger’s side, you climb up into the back seat.

“Is it far?” you ask as he kicks the car into gear and peels out onto the deserted road. Hopefully it’s not, the sooner you can get back to help Tooru the better.

“Nah, not too far. We’ll be home before ya know it.”

Of course, they’re driving you to their friends, but they haven’t promised anything about driving you back to the cottage and Oikawa–

Which is perfectly fine! You’re not going to push your luck, they’re already doing plenty for you. More than they really have to. You don’t even need that much – just some medicine for Tooru and enough food for the two of you to get through the next few days, and you’ll be fine. Whatever you can carry, which, admittedly isn’t much. There’s still a few hours of daylight left, if you’re lucky you’ll be able to make it back to him before nightfall.

Things are gonna be fine. You’ll bring the medicine and once he’s better, the two you can head out to find the others. Everything’s gonna be okay. You’ll be better when you’re all back together, the way things were meant to be.

You need them, if anything this little venture’s proven that much at least.

They’d promised that it wasn’t far, and maybe it’s just the exhaustion of the last few days creeping in, or the gentle hum of the engine as the car drives along the long, narrow stretch of road, but your eyelids start to droop, your breath evening out as sleep beckons.

And you’re just dancing on the edge of consciousness when a hushed voice breaks through the comfortable silence, dark eyes flickering up to watch your slumbering form in the rearview mirror. “Ya think Kita’ll be pissed?”

There’s a snort, “Nah. He’s always had a soft spot for strays, ‘specially the pretty ones.” He’s quiet for a moment, almost contemplative before he opens his mouth to add, “‘Sides, we’re gonna take real good care of her, ain’t we, Samu?”

The only reply he gives is a soft grunt of acknowledgement.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa x reader #yandere atsumu x reader #yandere osamu x reader #yandere iwaizumi x reader #yandere matsukawa x reader #yandere hanamaki x reader #tw blood #tw gore #angst #toxic relationships #i honestly do not know how to tag this #at this point it's practically sfw #if you ignore all the blood and injuries and zombie stuff

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zodiakuroo · 3 years

Text

Cupid’s Bullet

Dabi comes home with a very special Valentine’s Day surprise for you.

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

Contains: dubcon/noncon, mentions of death, unhealthy relationship, gun play, fear play, forced orgasms, squirting, mindbreak, angst (if you squint?), quirk usage, one slap but it’s a hard one :3, overstimulation, creampie

Word count: 5.3k

Notes: pls this title is so cringe but it's like bullet instead of arrow cause... ya know but anyways happy valentine’s day from scumbag boyfie!dabi

Dating a villain meant that your relationship was unconventional to say the least. For one, public dates were out of the question, unless you wanted it to end in destruction of public property and some scorched heroes. You also always had to have some kind of flimsy excuse for your family and friends when they asked to meet your elusive boyfriend. In addition, you had to accept the fact that he would have to disappear sometimes for weeks on end to do his boss’ bidding.

There was also the small matter of arson, murder and theft and a multitude of other crimes that you’d prefer not to know about. And while you weren’t necessarily okay with a lot of what Dabi did, you loved him. You loved him so much that turning a blind eye was so easy it made you question your own morality. He didn’t scare you either. Not in the slightest, because you knew in his own special way, he loved you too.

In fact it ran much deeper than that. On his worst days, Dabi could set the world ablaze until nothing was left because in the end he didn’t care about anyone or anything, not even himself. Until he met you, he says. He tells you that in you, he’s found something to tether him to this existence.

Ok so maybe he didn’t use those words exactly, but he doesn’t have to. You know that’s what he means when he spoils you with expensive, stolen clothes and jewellery, when he offers to burn alive any person who makes you even the tiniest bit upset and when he comes home to you bloodied and beaten, trusting you to take care of him.

In summary, your relationship forced you to give up on having any “normal couple” experiences. That included, celebrating anniversaries and silly holidays like Valentine’s Day so you never bothered to keep track of them. It could hardly be considered a sacrifice when you compared those things to what you actually got from your relationship.

Dabi had been gone for close to a month now and you didn’t expect him back anytime soon, not knowing where he was or what he was doing. In fact the very last thing you expected was for him to creep into your bedroom in the middle of night and rouse you from your peaceful sleep with a soft kiss on your temple.

You don’t jump out of bed in a panic, like any sane person would. Instead you let out a satisfied hum, surrounded by the scent of burnt flesh, ash and menthol, feeling warmth bloom in your chest. It should be unpleasant but its Dabi’s scent and you’ve missed it. You’ve missed him. You pick your phone up from your night stand, squinting your eyes at the bright light that makes them sting.

Sunday 14 February, 2:43am

“Welcome home.” You mumble groggily, trying your best to fight off your tired body urging you to go back to sleep.

Instead of replying, he greets you by pressing his mouth to yours. You let out a quiet gasp, startled by the sudden display of affection. His lips are chapped but that doesn’t matter, your tongue darts out to moisten them before your lips lock into a gentle kiss.

You reach up, weaving your hands through his dark hair in an attempt to draw him closer but he retreats, opting instead to turn on the bedside lamp but keeping his other hand behind his back. “Sit up doll. Got a surprise for ya.”

Any thoughts of sleep were long forgotten as soon as his lips met yours but now he’s really piqued your interest. You push yourself up against the headboard and sit cross-legged. You look up at Dabi expectantly. Your boyfriend is smiling wide, skin pulled so taut you think one of his staples might give out. He reveals to you what he has hidden behind his back. A square black box, wrapped in a cobalt satin ribbon.

It’s so cliché you can’t help but let out a small snort. “What is it?”

“It’s a gift. You know… for Valentine’s Day?” He says as though it should be obvious to you.

Your heart swells at the gesture. It really was a surprise. Not in a bad way, you just knew he wasn’t your average boyfriend and that was okay. You didn’t want him to be.

“Well now I feel awful. I didn’t get you anything.” You pout as he props the box onto your lap.

“’S like a toy… so it’s technically for you but kinda for both of us.” It’s unusual to see Dabi this excited. The way he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, eyes filled with mirth makes you all the more curious.

“Like a sex toy?” A giggle escapes you as you undo the bow.

“Are we playing fuckin’ 20 questions? Just open it.” He presses you.

You huff at his impatience but you don’t comment, not wanting to wait any longer either. You remove the lid of the box only to find something wildly unexpected.

A revolver?

You look up at your boyfriend with confusion etched on your face but his gleeful grin doesn’t falter. You’ve never seen a sex toy like this so you pick up the article to test its weight. It’s definitely the real deal.

“Dabi, this isn’t a toy.” You state matter-of-factly.

He merely rolls his eyes and says “Doll, when you can incinerate someone with a flick of your wrist, that little thing is definitely considered a toy?”

“O-okay? What do you want to do with it?” You ask, placing offending object onto your nightstand, not really wanting to hold on to it anymore, the metallic smell making you feel queasy.

“Ever heard of Russian Roulette?” Dabi, picks up the abandoned item, looking down at it with pride.

“What?” You furrow your eyebrows as nervousness starts to creep into your system and you instinctively move to back away from him but Dabi is quick to pull you back.

“It’s real easy doll. No need to look so scared.” He crawls on top of you, caging you in with his limbs. “6 chambers. 1 bullet. All you have to do is be a good girl for me. If not, I pull the trigger and we see what happens.”

The look on his face is positively demented. Azure eyes wide and bright, patchwork face contorted into a a sinister smile, white teeth and silver staples gleaming in the dim light.

“Baby,” you hope the pet name will placate him. It usually does. “I don’t know about thi-“

CLICK

You let out a shriek as your body jolts in fear but you’re unable to move with his weight pressing on top of you.

“You see now doll?” He clicks his tongue behind his teeth. “You’ve gone and wasted a shot.”

Dabi climbs off of you and you’re left lying there with your heart hammering violently in your chest, body trembling, still reeling from the shock of what just happened. Reeling from the shock of what is happening

“You gonna listen now? Gonna be good?” Dabi prompts, rolling the gun around in his hand.

All you can do is nod as your eyes being to water. The uneasy feeling in your stomach only grows worse as your mind races with the possible things Dabi has in store for you.

“Good. Now strip.” He command and like a good girl, you obey.

Your arms feel like they’re made of lead, moving rigidly to take off your shirt (one of Dabi’s old ones). You can’t stop the tears from falling as you pull down your panties, fat droplets roll down your cheeks, desperately trying to swallow the sounds of your sobbing.

This can’t be happening. It’s Dabi. He wouldn’t hurt you. He promised you that.

“Oh cut the fuckin’ waterworks.” He snaps. “As long as you listen, you’ll be fine.”

You try to calm yourself with deep breaths, not wanting to irritate him any further.

When you turn to face him, he’s leaning back on his haunches, one hand resting on his thigh, the other lazily gripping the revolver. “Fair warning, I’m more of a ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ kinda guy. But you know that already.” He thumbs the cylinder, making it spin. “Now, touch yourself for me.”

Breathing is difficult. No matter how much you try, it’s like you can’t get enough air into your lungs. Thinking only of gun in your boyfriend’s hand, you still you bring your own hand between your legs, but you can’t concentrate, what with the dread taking over your body making it tough to have any control of your body. Your movements are stiff and apparently not up to Dabi’s standards.

He only scoffs before-

CLICK

You scream again, body nearly flying off the bed before you curl yourself up into a ball. The fright is enough to stop your heart. For a second you believe it has.

“Doll,” Dabi’s gruff voice brings you back to earth, reminding you that you’re very much alive and whether or not you stay that way is entirely up to him. “You’re ruining my surprise. Got it ‘specially for you and now you’re being a brat.” He quirks an eyebrow at you, almost like a challenge.

“So-sorry.-“ your voice breaks. “I’ll be good.”

You’re still struggling to comprehend how any of this is real. You thought you knew him. You thought he loved you. And here he is, treating your life like it’s a game. You can’t help but think that this is your own fault. You thought you were above everyone else, the exception to your boyfriend’s villain behaviour.

“Yeah?” His voice drops to a whisper. “Then show me.” He challenges you. Dabi slips off his t-shirt and moves between your legs to get a better view, pressing on your knees to split them apart.

Self-preservation kicks in. There is one way out of this alive and that’s doing what he says. You spread yourself even wider, showing him all of you. Your hands, glide over your smooth thighs, kneading the pudgy flesh as you get closer and closer your sex, teasing yourself the way he would. Your fingers find your clit and just a little pressure makes your eyes melt shut. Probably for best anyway. It makes it easier to imagine anything but this. You drag those fingers through your delicate folds, letting out breathy sighs as heat begins to bloom between your thighs.

You pretend, its Dabi’s touch. In your mind’s eye you see the two of you, limbs tangled with Dabi on top, resting his forehead against yours. It’s one of those nights where he wants to go slow. So slow that the sensation of his cock dragging in and out of is you bordering on torturous. It’s one of those nights where he wants to lay his head on your chest, mouthing at your breasts, laving your nipples with his wet tongue while you tell him, in that sensual voice that you love him, that he’s perfect, that he’s yours. Because it’s one of those nights, where everything feels like too much for him and the only person that he really has on his side is you.

It’s not long before you’re leaking. Somewhere, deep in the back of your mind, there’s a voice chastising you for being so easy for him… even now. There’s almost no resistance as two of your fingers, press into your entrance. Your fingers are no match for Dabi’s, they never hit all those deep, hidden spots that make you see stars but still, you start to move them slowly, brushing your thumb over your clit every so often.

“Look at me.” You feel his breath waft over your pussy.

Eyelids fluttering open and you meet his gaze. It stuns you a little and your hands come to a standstill. He is handsome, breathtakingly so, even though he thinks you’re lying whenever you when you tell him that. The way he stares at you, with love and adoration in his eyes, it’s almost like the fantasy you were just imagining. Almost like the fantasy you’ve been living in this whole time. It’s enough to make you forget the situation you’re in. Then the muzzle of the gun is pressed to your clit, snapping you back to reality fast enough to give you whiplash.

“Fucking slut.” He growls and smacks your hand away from your pussy.

You jerk as he starts to move it the gun circles over your sensitive nub and then dipping down to your tight slit to gather up your juices.

“All those fuckin’ tears but look how wet you are.” He says more to himself than you as he admires the way your slick leaves a sheen on the barrel. With his eyes trained directly on yours, his perfectly pink tongue pokes out to lick it clean, groaning at the taste.

The next thing you know his arms are wrapped around your legs, guiding them over his broad shoulders. He kisses you on your mons before his tongue begins greedily lapping at your hole. “Tastes so good doll.” He mutters with his nose pressed against your clit. He slips the wet muscle inside of you making you whine. You reflexively grab onto his black hair, tugging on the stands and he lets out a groan of approval. He moves up to your clit, circling it with his tongue before suckling on it. While he brushes just the tip of a finger over your cunt, making it clench around nothing while you desperately buck your hips, in an attempt to have it inside you.

The way he’s eating you out is almost romantic?

Or it would be, if it weren’t for the metal digging into your flesh.

“Doll,” He places a sloppy kiss on your clit, lighting dragging his teeth over the hood. “Want you to squirt for me.”

A lump forms in your throat. You can count on one hand the amount of times that has happened. You’re not sure of the odds that you’d be able to right now and it’s not a gamble you’re willing to take. “Dabi, I don’t think I can….”

CLICK

You thrash, screaming so loud it makes your throat burn.

Dabi still holds you open, keeping you in place. “I wasn’t asking.” He makes sure to maintain eye contact as he drops a fat glob of spit right on to your clit before diving face first into your cunt once again.

He pushes 2 of his long, lithe fingers into your tight entrance. It’s unexpected and you wince. He drags his right hand (the one holding the gun) up your torso, resting the muzzle underneath your breast, right over your racing heart. A reminder of what’s at stake. He envelopes your sensitive clit with his lips, moving his fingers in tandem with the suction. You’re consumed by desire as Dabi brings you so close to the edge.

“Dee-Deeper please.” Your pant out.

He smiles against your mound before complying with your request. “Right here?” His fingers press against that squishy patch deep inside you and your eyes roll back.

“Nnnggg yeah.” You’re barely able to mewl out. You dig your heels into his back and grind against his face, chasing your high. Dabi keeps hitting that spot with astonishing precision but you hold off for as long as you can, letting the pleasurable sensation build until the pressure in your core becomes unbearable. When it finally snaps because you can’t hold it anymore, your eyes squeeze shut, hands flying to his biceps and you dig your nails into the sinewy muscle. You gush around his fingers and all over his face. Dabi doesn’t move though, flicking your clit with his tongue repeatedly until you’re trembling and whimpering, pushing him away from your pussy. He finally relents, a pop echoing around the room as he lets go of you.

He gives you a predatory look, scared face and chest wet with the remnants of your orgasm. “You made such a mess baby but I’m glad you’re finally having fun.” He’s just as out of breath as you are but far more composed.

Your head is still fuzzy and limbs are still twitching but your boyfriend doesn’t let you recover. “C’mon, doll. My turn.” He begins to undo his belt, silver buckle clinking as he rushes to drag it through the loops of his jeans

You pull yourself on to all fours, now eye level with his crotch. He pulls down his pants and boxers in one go, his erection almost hitting you in the face.

“You’ve been lucky so far.” He taps the bulbous head of his cock on your lips, smearing your lips with the pre that dribbles out of it. “But I wouldn’t test it if I were you. Open.”

Your mouth is already watering at the sight of him. So long, thick and veiny. It’s disgusting actually, this Pavlovian response. He fucks you deeper, stretches you wider and makes you feel better than anyone ever had. You wonder briefly, if anyone ever could fuck you as good as Dabi.

You stick out your tongue and he slides himself between your lips, groaning as he pushes into your mouth, slowly, inch by inch. He fills your mouth completely and you shut your eyes, savouring the salty taste of him but you feel the muzzle press against your temple and making them shoot open. “Atta girl. Lemme see those pretty eyes.” He grunts as he plunges into your throat. You bob your head up and down his shaft, the hand at the back of your head setting a brutal pace. The room is filled with the sounds of you gagging and his hefty sac smacking against your chin.

“So good to me baby.” He tilts his head back, losing himself in the pleasure. The wet heat of your mouth surrounding him while your saliva leaks out, dripping down his balls. Dabi is big and heavy, stretching you so wide and making you jaw ache from the weight of him. You’re already lightheaded from the lack of air, no matter how much you try breathing through your nose. You don’t dare to complain though.

He pulls out of your mouth slowly, stretching a string of saliva from the head of his dick to your tongue that’s hanging out of your mouth. You pant like a bitch attempting to catch your breath. He doesn’t give you much time before he’s in your throat again, back to fucking your face.

“I love you so much. You love me?” He sounds so sweet, totally blissed out.

He stops thrusting and tilts your head up to look at him, blinking tear-clumped lashes. You try utter a ‘Yes, I love you.’ but with his shaft gagging you, it comes out all garbled. The muscles in your throat convulse around the deep intrusion. “You’d do anything for me right?” He asks, jabbing the muzzle even harder into your temple, finger resting lightly on the trigger. You nod, watching Dabi lose his composure bit by bit. “Yeah. That’s why you’re my girl.” He pushes himself even deeper inside you, making you finally take all of him, until your nose meets his pubic hair and holding you there. “Fuck.”

CLICK

“Hmmhhhhngggh” You squeal around him but you can’t pull off because of the grip he has on your scalp. When he lets you go you’re choking and coughing up a lewd mixture of spit and pre-cum.

“Wh- Why” You blubber, voice hoarse. You don’t understand. You were doing exactly what he asked. You were being good.

“Sorry baby. Felt so good, my finger slipped.” He doesn’t even try to hide his mischievous smirk. The fucker is definitely not sorry.

You want to beg him to stop this ridiculous game because you see now there’s no way you can win because Dabi doesn’t play fair.

He doesn’t give you the chance though, already shuffling off his bottoms all the way and propping himself up against the headboard. “C’mon pretty baby.” He tugs on your ankle. Wanna see you bounce on my dick.”

You clumsily position yourself atop his lap quickly, before you can even think about it. You know he doesn’t need a reason to pull that trigger but still, you don’t want to give him one.

He grinds his tip along your heat, piercings dragging across your clit over and over again. It’s something he does whenever you have sex, to rile you up. And just like all those other times, it’s working. Circumstances be damned. “Needa feel this hot little pussy. Give it to me doll.” He murmurs against the shell of your ear.

You nod as you lift yourself off of him to hover your dripping wet hole over his hard dick. You slowly squat down on onto him, the fat head stretching you out, burning with every inch you take. You mewl, making futile attempts to blink away tears. You get halfway before you have to stop, resting your hands on his shoulders trying to gain leverage. You’re outright crying now, wet droplets landing on Dabi’s chest.

“’S matter doll.”

I’m terrified. You yell in your head but stay silent, choosing to focus on relaxing your ever-tightening hole in order to take more of him.

“Oh, I know.” He coos, voice dripping with condescension. “’S too big for your tiny cunny.” He leans forward to kiss away the salty tears. “But you can take it. I know you can.” He cups your jaw, stroking your cheek with a calloused thumb. “You can do it for me”

You start to move slowly up and down, using gravity to force more of his monstrous cock inside you with shallow movements. You really are trying your best but that’s apparently not good enough for Dabi and he lets you know that by pressing the barrel of the gun into your stomach. You freeze, horrified, more tears start falling from your eyes. You open your mouth to beg him to just give you a little time. You’re trying.

“Quit being a baby and just take it.” He says before you even get the chance.

“I’m trying Dabi, please just-“

CLICK

He cuts off your plea. He’s not interested in your excuses.

The rotation of the cylinder sends vibrations through your abdomen. Amidst the shock, you release your grip on his shoulders and impale yourself on his shaft by mistake. The combination of the searing stretch and the blunt head of his cock kissing your cervix is so overwhelming that you collapse forward, head falling on to your boyfriend’s chest. You feel the rumbles of his chuckles while he’s quite literally splitting you open.

“See? Knew you could. Just needed a little scare. Isn’t that right.” He rubs your back as if to comfort you. He lets out a low whistle. “But looks like you’re all out of chances doll. Now bounce.” He gives you a spank with an inhumanly warm hand, making you squeal and leaving your cheek tender.

Your hands find purchase on his shoulders again. Dabi’s sapphire eyes are practically glowing, daring you to be stupid enough to defy him one more time.

You pull off almost entirely, keeping just his tip inside of you, before spearing his shaft into you again.

“Good girl.” When he praises you with that raspy voice makes you keen and desperate for more of it.

His hand snakes its way up your torso to cup one of your breasts. Your back arches, pushing into his scorching hot touch, forgetting momentarily about his other hand and what he’s holding in it. He gropes your chest, tweaks and twists at your nipples, leaving red, inflamed hand prints in his wake. You’re practically delirious with pleasure, babbling out incoherent streams of his name along with “yes” and “more”. All the while, he murmurs praises about how good you are and how much he loves you. It’s confusing and you can’t process any of it.

“Who owns this perfect pussy?”

“Dabi. Fuck. Dabi.” Your tongue lolls out of your mouth in the most obscene way, drooling down your chin. Your plush walls pulse around him as he hits that sensitive spot every time you sink down on him.

“That’s right it’s all fuckin mine. My pretty baby.” Dabi’s eyes are focus on where your two bodies are connected watching the translucent ring of your cream appear and disappear as you ride him.

“Preeeettyyy.” You slur and he laughs at how fucked out you are, brain completely jumbled between the fear, the pain and the bliss all combined into ecstasy.

“Doll.” He groans. “I feel ya squeezin’ me. You gonna cum?”

He’s right. You nod as you feel that coil tightening again, threatening to snap at any second. The man finally starts putting in work, pounding into you every time you pull off of him. Dabi abandons the gun in favour of playing with your clit, rubbing quick sloppy circles. “Yeah? Gonna cream and gush around me? Want you to baby.” He buries his head in the crook of your neck, sucking, biting and licking while he assaults your sopping wet pussy. “C’mon doll, please.”

With that you orgasm. He grabs your hips pulling you flush against his thighs, fucking you through your orgasm, rolling his hips up into you until your high finally subsides.

He doesn’t let you catch your breath before he’s got the revolver pressed hard underneath your chin. “Now make me cum.” You almost collapse but the harsh grip he has on your hair suspends you upright.

Your mind is so foggy and Dabi gives you a small smile, appreciating the perplexed look in your droopy eyes. But he’s not done with you yet.

“Hey.” You’re ripped from your daze, when he slaps you across the face, sending your head swinging to the side. “Don’t pass out on me now.”

“So-sorry! ‘M sorry!” You grovel as you slam your tired body down on his dick once again, trying to ignore the throbbing on your cheek, the ringing in your ears, and the ache in your battered cunt. You’re so sensitive from your last orgasm but you don’t have a choice and you don’t dare deny him anything. Your thighs are quaking and burning with every movement but your boyfriend is unimpressed.

“You can do better than that doll.” He lets out a bitter laugh, enjoying every second of tormenting you. “It’s like you want your brains splattered on the ceiling.”

You start crying again, shaking your head frantically. In the time that you’ve been with Dabi, you’ve learned certain tricks, you know he likes it, but in this panic/lust induced frenzy, you can’t remember any of them. Instead, you bounce, mindlessly on him while your gummy walls clench tighter around him every time he nudges at your a-spot. Your legs are going numb from all the effort and you plop down, limp onto his lap, taking him to the hilt.

Dabi tsks at you, reminding you that you can’t rest just yet. You swivel your hips, grinding your pelvis against his while he’s buried deep in your wet heat. You pray to whatever deity is listening that he’s getting close, you’re not sure how much more you can take.

“If I don’t bust in the next 5 seconds.” His hand finds your clit again, you grind across his fingers has you rock against him. “Bang!” He emphasises the word by bringing a heated palm down on your ass.

A choked sob bubbles at the back of your throat, making him snicker

Hands pressed to his chest, you ride him like a woman possessed, the last bits of adrenaline kicking in. Your sloppy cunt squelches every time you drive yourself down on his cock just motivating you to fuck him harder.

“Five.” He grits out.

“Dabi, please!” But you’re met with icy, apathetic eyes staring back at you, feeling the terror that the rest of the city does when they so much as hear his name.

“Four.” He rubs your already raw clit, faster and you can feel another orgasm building, much quicker than your last two.

Your body feels so heavy but you can’t stop moving, not unless you want him to- “Please cum!” You beg. “Need your cum.”

“Three.”

He starts to fuck up into you again with unforgiving force.

“Wh-Why?!” is all you can manage as your mind starts to fog up again, the need to come becoming all the more urgent.

“Two.” He ignores your question, transfixed on your tits bounce in his face. You’re getting close to your third orgasm of the night and it seems Dabi is determined to get you there.

You still can’t believe this is real. You never thought that Dabi would treat you like this. You were supposed to be special.

Or at least that’s what he told you.

Moreover, you can’t believe how your own body is betraying you. You can’t believe you’re actually going to cum. Again.

“One.”

You cry out his name one last time, unsure if it’s out of fear or pleasure. You dig your nails into his arms again, in a feeble attempt to ground yourself as you cum around him. The orgasm that rips through you makes it difficult for you to be sure of anything.

What you are sure of is the fact that there was no bang or bullet.

Just one last CLICK (practically drowned out by your screaming) and the sensation of Dabi’s hot cum flooding your womb. He has a bruising grip on your hips, gun now discarded, and he ruts up into to making sure to stuff your cunt absolutely full of him. He begins to laugh as he softens inside you.

Your head is still spinning but once you’re able to push yourself off of him, you can finally make sense of what just happened.

He was fucking with you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You yell, using weak and quivering arms to throw pillows at him while you cry so hard it makes you dry heave.

Your asshole of a boyfriend starts cackling, clutching his abdomen as if he just pulled the world’s funniest prank while your heart is beating so hard and fast you think it might break through your ribcage.

“You should have seen your face. You were so fuckin’ scared.”

You become nauseous, feeling bile rising in your throat as you come to a sickening realisation.

This is not your Dabi. This is the Dabi that the rest of the world gets to see.

Evil, sadistic, merciless. This is the real Dabi.

You attempt to scramble off of the bed to get away from him, feeling overwhelmed by the humiliation. But Dabi grabs your wrist and yanks you into his chest, wrapping you up in his arms. A gesture you used to treasure but now it just made your skin crawl. “C’mon Doll you didn’t think I was being serious did you?”

You writhe in his hold, hitting against his hard, toned chest with pathetic fists. “Don’t be such a crybaby. It was just a joke.” He strokes your hair oh so tenderly. But you won’t fall for that again. Dabi is a villain through and through. You know that now.

It’s no use fighting him off though, all the fight in you is used up. You don’t know what else to do. So you do the easy thing: nuzzle your head into his chest, tremors rocking your body as you hiccup, while he holds you. That way you can pretend that you feel safe with him, just like you used to.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, doll. I love you.”

#dabi is just the worst huh #sorry about the angst i honestly don’t know how that happened #dark content #dark fic #mha smut #tw dubcon #bnha imagines #bnha smut #dabi imagine #dabi smut #dabi x reader #mha x reader #tw slapping #tw noncon #tw unhealthy relationship #tw gunplay #tw death mention

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angelltheninth · 3 years

Note

22 and 23 for Lucifer x alastor (hazbin hotel)?

Oh! Ok, ok, not someone I would put together, this should be interesting to write lol

Ao3 link

Pairing: Alastor x Lucifer

Tags: nsfw, smut, biting, marking, blow jobs, bareback, protective Lucifer, smooth Alastor, flirty Alastor, rough sex, hate fucking

Art by Kyo

22.“Bite me” + 23.“If you insist”

It was just a typical day for Alastor the Radio Demon. He took is usual stroll, visited his favorite restaurant and now it was time pay a visit to his favorite Royal. The walk to Lucifer's office was a pleasant one, but Alastor couldn't help but wonder what he wanted. He hummed a cheerful tune as he knocked on the door.

"Enter." Lucifer's voice carried from the inside.

Alastor walked into the office twirling his cane, "Lucifer, what can I do for you my good man?" Alastor smiled, as always.

Lucifer however wasn't smiling at all, "I don't know what you're doing Radio Demon. But my daughter is off limits for your schemes."

"Ah right to the chase. I like that, I like that." The Radio Demon sat on the couch casually. The King still stared daggers at him, "I assure you, this has nothing to do with the Princess. I'm in this for myself. And so far my investment has really payed off. I'm having the time of my afterlife."

"I couldn't give less of a fuck about your good times." Lucifer sat up and closed the distance between him and Alastor in quick strides, "Hands off my daughter."

Alastor hummed, "Wouldn't think of it. I'm much more interested in... bigger things." Alastor's hands brushed over Lucifer's belt buckle, hooking it with his fingers and bringing him closer. The King of Hell narrowed his eyes.

"You're a cocky little shit aren't you?" Lucifer grabbed Alastor by the chin and pulled him into a rough kiss. Alastor's hands immediately started taking off the King's clothes, while Lucifer grabbed and pulled on his. There was never anything gentle about their encounters, it was always quick, hot and rough. That was the way they both liked to keep it.

Alastor sat up, flipped Lucifer to the couch and kneeled between the Kings legs. They were both half naked and Alastor's hands made quick work of the rest. Lucifer kicked off his pants and underwear.

"Suck it." It was undoubtedly a command. And this being the King himself, well how could Alastor refuse. He took the entirety of Lucifer's hard cock into his mouth, "Fuck. That's good." Lucifer's hands gripped Alastor's hair, moving his head faster, thrusting his hips dick wildly into Alastor's mouth.

Suddenly a shadow wrapped around Lucifer's hands and pulled them off Alastor's head. Alastor looked up at him, that smug grin that Lucifer really hated, "Fucker. I was close."

"I know. But where's the fun in that." Alastor stood up to get rid of his own pants.

"Well... its good to know that your mouth is good for something other than talking." Alastor snapped his fingers, not paying Lucifer's comment any mind. The shadows around Lucifer's hands vanished and Alastor held a bottle of lube, "My turn this time remember?"

With an over exaggerated eyeroll the King turned around, hiving Alastor a great view of his ass. He heard a groan from behind along with rubbing sounds. Then he felt a cold finger sliding into his hole. His hips twitched momentarily. He hummed in pleasure as Alastor worked his finger in and out at a nice pace. As he added another one Lucifer sucked in a breath.

"I think you're ready." As soon as Alastor's fingers left his ass, he felt the tip of his cock slowly pushing in. Alastor took deep breaths as he slowly bottomed out. When he did Lucifer let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He hardly had time to adjust before Alastor grabbed his hips and started slamming into him. The sounds of skin against skin, along with moans, groans and curses, mainly curses from Lucifer, filled the office.

Alastor didn't consider himself to be a kinky man. However there was one thing he did like. He likes leaving a mark. Especially on someone who bruises so easily, like the King of Hell himself.

He loved leaving little red marks across his neck, his chest, his back. Like he was right now. Towering over him, fucking him from behind.

"Honestly, who would have thought the that King himself would be so easy to submit like this." Alastor pushed in deeper until he bottomed out again. Lucifer grit his teeth adjusting to the fullness. Alastor started moving fast and deep as soon as he heard Lucifer exhale.

"Fuck... you..." Lucifer grunts.

"Oh I am darling." Alastor kissed along his neck. Lucifer turned his face to capture Alastor's lips with his own. Both men moaned at the feeling of their lips and tongues coming into contact.

Lucifer bucked his hips backwards onto Alastor's cock.

"Hm... needy are we?" Alastor reached his hand around, wrapping his fingers around Lucifer's own hard cock and stroking in rhythm with Lucifer's hips.

"Bite me asshole."

"With pleasure, your Highness." Alastor gave a harsh bite to the nape of Alastor's neck. The King's hand tugged on his hair harshly. Alastor let go of his neck, his lips slightly bloody, "You're delicious. And you feel so nice. So tight around my cock."

Lucifer bucked his hips faster, Alastor matching his pace with hard thrusts and a tight grip on Lucifer's hip while the other still worked on his cock.

"I don't wanna dirty your furniture your Highness. Should I finish inside?" Lucifer could practically hear Alastor's smirk.

"Fuck just do it already." Lucifer hated how his voice sounded, way to needy for his ears. But it sounded perfect to Alastor. The Radio Demon rutted into him, pretty sure the King wouldn't be able to walk right by the time he was done. He snarled as he came, emptying himself into Lucifer's ass. Lucifer moaned at the warm feeling of Alastor spilling into him.

As Alastor pulled away a few more drops of cum shoot across Lucifer's back.

"Well that way certainly enjoyable." Alastor shrugged.

"Hold on." Lucifer grabbed him by the hand, turned around and pulled Alastor down on his knees once more. Lucifer sat in front of him, his legs spread, dick hard and already dripping with cum, "I'm not with that mouth of yours yet." With a rough tug Lucifer pulled Alastor's mouth onto his dick, keeping his head in place with a firm grip as he fucked his mouth with his throbbing dick.

Alastor groaned every time he felt the tip of Lucifer's dick hit the back of his throat. The sounds only served to spur Lucifer on. His cock started to twitch in Alastor's mouth. Alastor's tongue brushed along the underside Lucifer's dick and he finally came, "Fuck, fuck, fuck! Fucking swallow it!"

Alastor did as he was told without protest as Lucifer emptied down his throat. Lucifer kept his dick there until he had no more cum left, only then did he take out his softening dick and leaned back into the couch with a content sigh.

Alastor licked his lips, "Well that was pleasant." He said as if he just finished a very nice meal. He wiped the rest of the cum with the back of his hand. With a snap of his fingers he already had his clothes back on. He ran his hand tough his hair "I'll see you next time your Highness." As he walked by he caressed the bite mark he left on the King, making his shiver, "Oh and don't worry, like I told you before, I'm in this for my own pleasure. As I'm sure you've seen for yourself."

"I'm still gonna be keeping an eye on you Radio Demon." Lucifer looked at him over his shoulder.

"Good to know my King. Until next time." With that Alastor was gone in a whirl of shadows.

The King of Hell now sat alone in his office. With a sigh he began redressing himself, hissing when his shirt brushed over his bruise "I fucking hate when he does that. Kinky motherfucker." Well it will heal quickly at least and until then there's still much work to be done, a King's job is never over in Hell.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fic #appleradio #alastor #lucifer #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin alastor #hazbin lucifer #smut fic #smut fanfiction #smut writing

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cursestothemoon · 3 years

Note

🗼 with Fred and George. That’s it. That’s the blurb.

Hello lovely could I request a weasley twins x reader poly relationship if you’re comfortable with it.

I combined these two requests :)

Two to Tame the Brat

F.W. X FEM!READER X G.W.

POLYAMOROUS RELATIONSHIP

NO INCEST

17+ IF YOU ARE TAGGED AND DON’T WANT TO BE TAGGED IN SMUT PLEASE LET ME KNOW

Warnings: NSFW, oral (male and female receiving), fingering, dom!George, dom!Fred, sub!reader, spanking, brat taming kinda, biting, slapping, degradation and praise, UNEDITED (i need to stick to my brand ya know✋🏻)

You felt your cheeks grow red at the intense stares of the two boys before you. Of all the things that could’ve happened in your seventh year at Hogwarts, standing naked in front of your two boyfriends while they discussed how to properly tame the brat out of you was not one of them. You had started off dating Fred, a couple months after your one year anniversary he had come to you with the idea of bringing in someone else to the relationship, George. The transition from just Fred to both Fred and George was smooth, until the latter found out about just how much Fred let you get away with.

“Are we gonna do anything or not?” You whined.

Usually Fred would give in if you whined enough, he had little patience and a lot of horniness so you got away with being a brat often- he’d always give in to you eventually.

A harsh smack landed on your cheek making you gasp.

“You speak when you’re spoken to.”

George was a different story...

After seeing how much of a brat you were with Fred, he knew a taming was necessary. George wasn’t one to take your games, and he had convinced Fred that you needed to have some rules set and punishments received. To your annoyance, Fred was completely on board with the idea and he insisted George show him how to be tougher on you.

You glared at George, but you couldn’t deny the way his stern dominance had your cunt aching.

Fred smirked from his seat on the edge of his four poster bed. Both of them were still clothed- George insisted you shed your clothes first- but you were itching to get them undressed.

George turned to his brother, “Now you can’t just let her get away with that behavior. Kitten needs learn what her mouth is good for.”

The twins seemed to be able to communicate without the use of words, this scenario was no different. Fred’s smirk grew as he looked over you with lustful eyes.

“Over here, love, and on your knees.”

You thought of disobeying him for a moment and George seemed to read your mind, “I believe Freddie told you to do something...”

“M’going.”

George gave your ass a quick smack as you made your way over to Fred, getting on your knees once you reached him. You looked up at him expectantly, waiting for him unbuckle his belt and take off his pants.

“You little brat, what are we supposed to do everything for you?” George scolded, coming up behind you and pulling your head back with a firm grip on your hair.

George continued his teasing as you felt Fred part to run a few fingers up and down the lines of your strained throat, “Open your mouth for Freddie.”

You did as you were told, eager to feel the weight of Fred’s thick cock on your tongue. Instead, you felt the firm grip of Fred’s hand on your jaw pulling you forward so he could spit into your open mouth.

Desperate for any part of either of them, you were happy to slow his spit- the taste entirely unique to Fred made you sigh in content.

“Get on with it, kitten.” George said, hand moving to pet the top of your head lovingly.

You worked fast to unbuckle Fred’s belt and unzip his trousers, pulling out his semi hard cock you could feel your mouth watering at the sight. Without pause, you took his tip into your mouth, sucking harshly as you tongue swirled around him to the best of your ability. Your hand wrapped around his shaft, slowly moving along its length making him let out a shaky breath before tipping his head back.

Fred put a hand on the back of your head, gently pushing you further down his prick. Your eyes watered as you felt him poking at the back of your throat, focusing on breathing through your nose, you adjusted before starting to bob your head with hollowed cheeks. Fred’s hand on the back of your head sped up your pace making you gag around him.

The sound of George’s belt hitting the floor made your thighs clench, you hoped to relieve some of the pressure building up in your core.

“Do that again and you’ll get punished.” George warned, his footsteps getting closer and closer.

Suddenly, Fred pulled you off of himself and stood up, his cock now painfully hard and leaking precum as he started undressing himself. You were pulled to your feet by George who started placing kissing along your collarbone and shoulder.

“See, wasn’t so hard to be a good girl.”

You nodded, “Wanna be your good girl.”

George chuckled, running his thumb across your bottom lip before trailing it down to your chin, “On the bed.”

Doing as you were told, you got on the bed with your knees apart and ready for whatever George wanted to do. He walked over to your pussy on full display and pushed you further up on the bed to make room for himself in between your legs.

“Good girls get rewards.” George smirked up at you from in between your legs before he dipped his head down and started to lick broad stripes up from your entrance to your clit- agonizingly slow.

He lifted his head briefly to speak, “You cum when you are allowed.”

At that, he dove back into your aching cunt with no respite. He was vigorously lapping at your cunt and giving a few harsh sucks at your clit sporadically, making you cry out each time.

Fred situated himself next to you with his mouth attached to your tit, biting and sucking on your pert nipples adding more pleasure coursing through your body.

“Such a good girl, f’me.” Fred muttered, kissing any skin he could reach.

Your eyes rolled back and fluttered closed at the mix of sensations. Needing to ground yourself and give yourself something to do, you reached for Fred’s cock and started pumping his shaft. Fred let out a growl like sound at the feeling of your hand on his sensitive dick before attaching his lips back to your pebbled nipple.

In all honesty, as Fred harshly tugged your nipple between his teeth and George’s tongue circled around your clit while two of his fingers pumped in and out of you with languid thrusts you were close to orgasm and George’s rule of cumming only when allowed seemed to slip your mind.

George was quick to pull away from you as you came, an open palm smack coming down onto your swollen clit making you let out a choked sob as your orgasm was ruined just as it hit you.

Fred gave your breast a rough bite, leaving a mark on the sensitive skin before pulling away.

“Tried to do something nice for our kitten, and she couldn’t fucking listen.” George sneered.

“On your fucking hands and knees, slag just wants be used, just wants to be punished.” Fred joined his brother, both of their harsh words making your cunt ache with need as you got into the position Fred wanted.

George gave a sarcastic laugh, “Slag’s practically dripping, look at the Freddie. She needs her punishments, loves ‘em.”

“Good,” Fred grunted as he seated himself by your raised ass, hand gently running across the round globes. “Because she’s about to get spankings for making me look like a liar, I said you were a good girl and you made me out to be a bloody liar.”

A loud smack sounded in the room, your body jolting forward with the sheer force of Fred’s first spank. George moved to lay in front of you, legs spread and elbows holding himself up as you took his cock into your mouth. With each spank you took George’s prick further into your mouth, loud gags sounding from your throat.

After about fifteen lashes you felt Fred stand up from the mattress, hand running across the red skin before he trailed his fingers over to your sopping cunt. He ran his fingers up your slit, collecting your juices and using the slick from your pussy to lubricate his cock.

Fred gave himself a couple of tugs before lining himself up at your entrance, pushing his tip in slowly before thrusting into your aching pussy roughly. The hard thrusts made you moan around George, sending vibrations up his shaft and making him groan.

You could feel your orgasm begging to be allowed to wash over you, and you knew better than to make your past mistake again. Deep throating George’s cock and swallowing around him had his warm load coating the back of your throat and your tongue. Swallowing his cum and sucking him off through his orgasm, you waited until he pulled you off of his prick to start begging.

“Wanna cum, plea-please, wanna cum.” You cried, forehead falling onto George’s balmy thigh.

The boys spoke at the same time, “Cum.”

Your walls clenched around Fred’s cock as you came, pulling his release from him. He continued with slow, deep, thrusts to ride out both of your highs for as long as possible.

Eventually, Fred pulled out of your cunt making your collapse onto George who was more than happy to pull you into his chest and place a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. Fred went to retrieve a warm wash cloth to clean you up, he came back and carefully wiped up the mess around your thighs and center. After getting cleaned up, George shuffled around to get you tucked into Fred’s bed before getting comfortable himself. Fred joined you two in the bed, sandwiching you in between him and his brother.

The room was silent until you heard a loud smack then a fake gag.

“I was holding your hand this entire time?”

“I thought that was Y/n!”

“Maybe if you quit hogging our girlfriend...”

“Don’t make me kick you out of my bed.”

tags:

@siriusement

@amourtentiaa

@vsawyer1989

@lifeofkaze

@theorangedrummer

@erinblack003

@famdomhideout

@an2402lths

@escapingrealitybyreading

@readyg0erge

@maybesandohnos

@therealhouseelvesofhogwarts

@georgeweasleysbabe

#Fred Weasley #Fred Weasley imagine #fred weasly x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley x reader #weasley twins smut

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anythingwriter · 3 years

Text

Badassery

Thomas Shelby x reader

Warnings: language, Oswald Mosley, teeny tiny bit of sexual assault, implied smut if you squint, small bit of angst

Word count: 1,988 of pure trash:)

Requested by: anonymous 🐆

Summary: At one of Tommy’s famous parties, he sees his wife being hit on by the one and only Oswald Mosley. On his way to save her he stops in his tracks, shocked by how she handled things.

*******************************************************

Y/n Shelby was definitely a force to be reckoned with. While most men and women cleared a path when they saw Tommy coming, they’d clear the whole damn street when they saw her. She was unpredictable and even scarier than Arthur doped up on his snow.

Oh and her looks, she was one of the most beautiful gems Small Heath had ever seen. The men all wanted a taste of her, and the women strived to be her. She knew she was beautiful, and she walked with her head held high in confidence. Most importantly, she knew she could take care of herself. Apparently though, her husband did not.

It was a Friday evening and naturally your husband had decided to throw a party. People from the richest of families were there, wanting to see how the Thomas Shelby lived.

You and Tommy were in the corner conversing amongst yourselves, laughing at the guest and their ridiculous outfits, and Charlie was upstairs with the maids, hopefully asleep by now. Tommy had gone for a normal suit, his ocean eyes standing out against the deep black. You had chosen a beautiful burgundy dress with a daring plunge in the neck, accompanied by a jaw dropping diamond necklace Tommy had given you for your three year anniversary. The dress hugged you perfectly, showing off your best assets. Tommy couldn’t tear his eyes off of you.

“Tommy, look at Mrs.Evans! Sh- she looks like she has a dog wrapped around her neck!” You bent over laughing, having to put a hand on your knee to stop yourself from falling flat out on the floor, almost spilling your wine in the process. Her scarf was obnoxiously large and fluffy, and you couldn’t get enough of it.

Tommy looked over as well, and he chuckled at the sight, nowhere near laughing as hard as you. It was safe to say you were a little more on the tipsier side. He reached down his ring clad hand and grabbed your wine, “that’s enough for you love,” and he put it on the passing butlers tray, mumbling a small thanks in the process.

You straightened back out and looked up at Tommy and gave him the biggest puppy eyes you could muster, you were not done with your wine and you wanted it back.

“Bu-“

“No buts darling, you wouldn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of all these people, right?. Maybe wait until it’s just me and you, yeah? Sound good?” You weakly nodded your head to Tommy, knowing there was no way you were going to win this debate.

“Tommy?”

He turned to look at you, “yes darling?”

You stared at him with the best serious face you could possibly offer in your given state, “ You- you said butts!” You doubled back over again laughing your ass off. It truly wasn’t that funny, but you felt like a damn comedian at this point. Tommy gave you one of his famous “bitch, really” faces and walked away from you.

“Tommy! Where are you going? You can’t just leave me here!” He kept walking to the other side of the room, not once turning around to spare you another glance.

“Tommmmyyyyy!” He still didn’t turn around, and you were about to shout again until you saw some guest looking at you. You gave them all a bitter look and they averted their gazes, none of them wishing to die tonight. You frowned in Tommy’s direction before turning around to find someone you knew to talk too. You spotted Polly in the distance and headed her way.

“Ahhh Mrs.Shelby, lovely to see you this evening.”

You stopped in your tracks at the voice, slowly turning around to meet the cold eyes of Oswald Mosley. All the wine you had drank that night quickly left your system at the sight of him. Tommy had warned you to stay away from him, he warned you that he had no care about the feelings of women. You knew he was a terrible man.

He reached out with his bare clammy hand and grabbed your glove covered one and brought it up to his lips to give it a kiss, never once breaking eye contact with you.

You cringed on the inside, giving him a charming smile anyway. “Lovely too see you as well, Mr.Mosley.”

He looked you up and down, “might I just say dear, you look rather… ravishing tonight,” as the last word left his mouth he allowed his eyes to stop and stare at your breast. You pulled back at this, hating yourself for choosing such a daring dress. “Thank you, sir. I do believe I should go find my husband though, I’m sure he’s looking for me, have a good night Mr.Mosley.”

As you were walking around him to follow the way Tommy had left you moments prior, Oswald latched his hand onto your wrist, pulling you back towards him.

“Actually y/n, I ran into him for a brief conversation before I came to see you, and I can promise he seems quite busy with Mr.Solomons at the moment.” He gave you a sinister smile, still not letting go of your wrist.

You tried to pull back your hand but he only gripped it tighter, your wrist began to throb at this point.

“Mr.Mosley,” your teeth were clenched and you were sure your face was red, “I would actually love to go say hello to Mr.Solomons. It’s been a while since I’ve seen Alfie.” And with one final tug, your wrist slipped from his hold, but he was having none of that. He quickly grabbed you by your hips and pulled you flush to his chest, you could smell the alcohol and cheap cologne coming from him. For being so confident in himself he sure smelt like a piece of shit.

He squeezed your hips too tight for comfort and forced a smile towards you.

“It seems to me, Mrs.Shelby,” squeeze “that you are trying to get away from me. Do you not enjoy my company?” His dark brown eyes were boring into your e/c eyes.

You felt disgusted, who did this man think he was?

You glared at him, you gathered every ounce of anger and disgust you could and pushed it all behind your eyes.

“Mr.Mosley, I suggest you take your hands off of me right now, I don’t believe my husband would be too happy. He doesn’t like sharing.” You were furious, spitting out every word through your clenched teeth.

He scoffed, “your husband? Wouldn’t you like to see what a real man is like?” He still held your hips, and he slowly but forcefully pushed his hips up against yours.

*******************************************************

Across the room, Tommy was looking for you while he listened to Alfie speak. His blood boiled at the sight he found.

“So you see Tommy I-“

“Shut up Alfie.”

Alfie gazed over at Tommy incredulously, his cane stuck in midair from his rambling.

“Ex-fucking-cuse me Thomas?”

Tommy didn’t have time for Alfies games and pointed his cigarette in your direction. He followed Tommy’s hand and widened at the sight. There was no mistaking the disgusting excuse of a man and the beautiful woman Tommy was oh so lucky to call his.

Alfie had met you a couple of times, and although you were one scary bitch, he knew you were kind hearted behind your exterior. Even though you weren’t his he felt rage bubbling inside. He could see the discomfort on your face, he could only imagine what Tommy was thinking.

“Yeah, if I were you lad, I think I would go over and put a bullet in between the wops eyes, yeah.”

“Couldn’t agree with you more Alfie.” And with that Tommy was marching his way across the room to save his wife. When he was halfway across the room with determination on his face, he almost tripped over his own feet. The sight in front of him was not one he was expecting to see.

*******************************************************

Mosley pushed his hips up towards yours, and disgustingly enough you could feel everything through his pants. You could feel bile rising in your throat. You looked over his shoulder and saw Tommy on his way over with figurative steam coming out of his ears.

To hell with Tommy, he was the one that left you in the first place. You didn’t need his help, you were anything but a damsel in distress.

With that you brought your knee up to Mosley’s groin, a satisfactory smile on your face hearing him moan in pain.

When he doubled over in pain you didn’t hesitate before beating on the man.

“I-,” punch “said get-,” punch “off of-,” punch “ME!” kick.

Breathing heavily standing over the bloodied mans body, your senses began to come back to you. The band Tommy had hired stopped playing, everyone had stopped dancing, looking at you with bewilderment on their faces. You could hear Mosley struggling for air beneath you, and Tommy, well he was completely frozen in his spot, his jaw hanging open and he felt something stir inside of him.

You looked around, wiping off the dirt and blood on your hands and snapped at everybody staring at you, “shows over fuckers!” Everyone resumed what they were doing.

Tommy stormed over to you and for a second you thought he was going to shout. His brows were furrowed and he had a scowl on his face. When he was finally standing in front of you, you ducked your head waiting for the scolding.

You let out a surprised sound of shock when Tommy grabbed your face between both his hands and pressed his lips to yours. It was messy and uncoordinated, but neither of you cared.

Recovering from your moment of shock you wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing back with just as much neediness. Tommy moved his hands down your back and grabbed your ass, emitting a moan from you and he slipped his tongue in your mouth, groaning at the taste of wine and cigarettes.

When he pulled back for air he stared into your eyes, keeping his hand on your ass.

“That-,” he took a deep breath, “was the hottest thing I have ever seen.” He pulled your hips closer to his, and you could feel him hardening against you.

You smirked up at Tommy, laughing before running your hand down his chest. “Really? I couldn’t tell.”

His eyes darkened, when he opened his mouth to speak again he was interrupted by a very impressed gangster.

“Y/n! Darling!,” Alfie came running over as fast as he could with his leg, swinging his cane all over the place in excitement, almost pulling off Mrs.Evans scarf in the process, “that was amazing! Tell me, how did you do it?”

You gave an innocent smile in the mans direction, still wrapped in Tommy’s arms, “it’s called badassery Alfie, I could teach you if you want?”

Tommy let out a loud laugh at that, letting go of your ass to pull you to his side by your waist and gave Alfie an award winning Thomas Shelby smile.

Alfie looked at you for a moment before laughing himself.

“You gotta’ keeper here Tom, don’t let her go or I’ll snatch her up myself.”

Tommy glared at Alfie and turned his attention to you smiling, “Trust me Alf, I’m never letting this one go.”

And with that Tommy dragged you upstairs into your shared room, showing you how hot he thought it truly was, and awarding you a job well done.

*******************************************************

a/n: I hope you like it honey! I’m not sure I liked the ending though, but I hope y’all do!!❤️❤️

Also! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Have a good day darlins!🥰

@shadowfoxey @nothingleftthaticando

#peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby smut #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #peaky blinders

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battinscn · 2 years

Text

QUALITY STREETS CHOCOLATE — miles bletchley x slytherin! f! reader

CONTENT WARNING: angst if you squint

SUMMARY: when your best friend grows jealous, he decides to crash your date, leaving you upset and annoyed.

WC/ AVG. READING TIME: 917 words/ 4 minutes

return to the miles masterlist here

"HEY PRETTY GIRL," miles slid into the booth with you, wrapping his arms around your shoulder.

"hi miles," you greeted the boy with a smile pursed on your lips.

ernie macmillan, who was sat opposite you, cleared his throat.

"what the hell?" you glared at your best friend.

"i was just passing by and thought i'd give a shout, what're you doing with macmillan anyway?"

"ernie, asked me out on a date," you folded your arms, clearly annoyed at the blonde boy.

"i don't like him for you."

"he's very lovely and an absolute sweetheart, if anything i think he's right for me," you scoffed, "if you've got nothing else to say, i'll be going."

and with a roll of your eyes, you walked back into the inn and sat back down next to ernie, continuing your conversation from before.

"i had a really good time today y/n," ernie beamed as the two of you stood by the slytherin common room entrance.

"me too," you returned the smile.

"but...you fancy miles don't you?" ernie raised an eyebrow.

"er...fancy? what am i ernie? 12?" you scratched the back of your head and let out a dry chuckle.

"well maybe not fancy, but you definitely have something for him, i've seen the way you look at him."

a light tint adorned your cheeks, "i'm awfully sorry ernie, i didn't mean to lead you on. i had a nice time, truly. do you think we could be friends after this?"

"of course, friends it is," ernie stuck out a hand and you shook it.

"thank you again for today," you waved goodbye to ernie as you slipped into the slytherin common room.

you had had a crush on miles for quite a while. you met him back in first year on the hogwarts express, and the two of you then met adrian the same day when all three of you were sorted into slytherin. you had became inseparable since.

you became aware of your feelings towards your blonde best friend during the end of your fourth year. it was not news that you had a thing for miles. adrian knew, people in slytherin knew. hell, the whole school seemed to know.

well, everyone except miles knew. at times you believed he reciprocated the feelings from the way he would often flirt with you.

feather-light kisses on your forehead and shoulders and his hand always around your waist. but miles had never asked you out on a date. you decided recently that you would not spend your hogwart years waiting for a boy who would never ask you out and that was why you accepted ernie's invitation to a date.

"you're back early," adrian looked up from his textbook and placed it to the side.

you slumped onto the sofa next to adrian and leaned your head back, a groan leaving your mouth.

"bloody miles," you cursed, causing adrian to let out a laugh.

you snapped your head back up and gasped, "you told him about my date didn't you?" you punched adrian in the arm.

"ow! no need to resort to violence do we now?" adrian winced as he rubbed the spot you punched.

"look, macmillan's lucky enough that miles hasn't hexed him yet. he should've known not to ask out miles' girl." adrian shrugged.

"what'd you mean miles' girl?" you put your hand up in air quotation marks.

"he called dibs on you in second year. all the boys know miles is yours and that you're off limits."

that was when miles stepped into the common room, adrian and y/n's attention now on the blonde.

"what's going on? why's y/n fuming?" miles kicked his feet up onto the coffee table.

"care to share why you've been going around calling dibs on people my dear miles?" you faked the sweetest smile you could muster, gritting your teeth.

miles eyes widened at the question, covering the side of his face with his hand from y/n and whisper-shouting, "what the hell pucey? you told her?"

"i can hear you just fine miles, the room echoes," you rolled your eyes as adrian put his hands up in defence, picking his textbook up and walking backward into the stairway to the dorms, "i'll let you two have a chat."

"i'm not the last piece of quality street miles, you can't call dibs on me. i'm a person."

"look, i'm sorry okay? i didn't mean it in a possessive way," he ran his hand down his face, "i meant it in a i've got a huge crush on my best friend but i'm way too much of a wuss to ever admit it kind of way."

"you have a crush on me?" you asked, baffled.

"don't mock me now y/l/n, i've just admitted my undying feelings for you."

"you're blushing aren't you? oh my merlin, miles bletchley is blushing!" you teased as you had a shit-eating grin on your face.

"i hate you."

"well if it's any consolation, i happen to have a giant crush on you as well," you knocked miles' feet off the coffee table so you could settle yourself on his lap.

"fuck yea, i called dibs anyway," miles cheered as he cupped your cheek to place a kiss on your lips.

join my taglist here!

tags: @lilytoyourjames @pattnscn

#miles x reader #milesbletchley #miles bletchley #dracosluvbotwrites #miles bletchley fanfic #miles bletchley x y/n #miles bletchley x you #miles bletchley x reader #miles x y/n #miles x you

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shadyteacup · 3 years

Note

May i ask fanfiction with dazai osamu and chuuya nakahara where fem! Reader aka their s/o falls asleep ln them and then they become SUPER OVERPROTECTIVE like somebody is like: i can take that pretty lady so you can rest and then they take a merf gun or some kind of weapon or like does something and are like: TOUCH HER AND YOURE GONE

Hey, there! This was fun to write!

Tw: Some blood in Chuuya's part, but nothing gory..

Lemme know if this is what u wanted ;)

Dazai

Dazai was looking out of the window, observing the passing scenery. He loved train rides. They somehow calmed him. Observing the fast approaching trees and watching them zoom past, was a favorite pass time of his. You and Dazai had gone to visit a client in the neighboring city, and Dazai had insited on traveling via train.

Both of you were sitting side by side, shoulders touching, as you shared one ear bud each. You were playing the music today. Your choice in songs was quite diverse. You could vibe to chaotic metal, noisy edm, soft guitar songs and famous classicals like Beethoven's Für Elise.

Today, you had decided to play soft songs. They had a calming effect. It was much needed too, as your mission had been quite tiring.

Dazai felt a weight on his shoulder. Moving his head to the side, he saw your sleeping face. Your cheek was smushed on his shoulder, and stray hair was strewn a over your nose and forehead.

He smiled softly at the adorable sight. He gently nuzzled his face on your head, craving your touch.

He was never so possessive and touchy before. You had completely changed him. Now, he couldn't stand being away from you for five minutes. He always needs to have some form of physical contact with you. It can be as simple as a touch of your shoulders, or your hand in his, or as elaborate as a bear hug, or a gentle kiss.

It was the rush hour, so you both had to share a booth. The man sitting opposite you both kept stealing glances at you. Dazai, ofcourse, noticed this. He decided to ignore it. He knew how beautiful you were. It was obvious that a beauty such as you would gather male attention. He had encountered so many men and women that had tried to woo you. But you had always stayed with him. You loved him, afterall. And he loved you. So he pretended to not have noticed the man's glances. Unfortunately, he can't control who should and shouldn't look at you.

"Nice woman you've got there, lad!"

The man spoke up. He was looking at Dazai, trying to get a reaction out of him.

Dazai merely glanced at him, giving him a look that said 'mind your business'.

The man shifted his full attention towards you.

Smirking, he leaned ahead a bit, trying to get a closer look at you.

"You wouldn't mind being a good boy, and sharing this lovely lady, would you?"

That was it. Dazai snapped.

The man felt a cool sensation below his jaw. He looked down to find himself face-to-face with the barrel of a gun. His eyes widened, and he gulped.

Dazai leaned forward, ensuring that you weren't disturbed, and spoke near the man's ear.

"Leave before I feed your brain to the stray dogs."

His low, dangerous voice, and murderous gaze was more than enough for the man to stumble out of the booth, and run away.

The slight movement and the man's scared apologies and 'Please don't kill me's stirred you awake. You blinked, looking at Dazai.

"What happened?"

He smiled at you, shaking head, and planting a kiss on your forehead.

"Nothing, love. Needed to take care of a pest. Everything's alright."

You look at him, confused, but nod your head anyway.

"Ok."

"I love you, Y/N."

"I love you too, Osamu :)"

Chuuya

"That's the last of them."

You say as you kick a man on the head, knocking him out.

Chuuya walks over to you, admiring the large number of men you had successfully neutralized.

"That's...amazing, love."

He pecks your lips.

You try to shove him away.

"I'm all bloody, Chuu!"

He grins, hugging you.

"So am I!"

You giggled, giving in and wrapping your arms around his waist. You and Chuuya had been tasked to take down an organization that was meddling in the Mafia's affairs. When you both got to the location, you realized that there were many more men than they had anticipated. It didn't matter, though, as both of you were extremely skilled at combat, and had strong abilities. It was tiring, nonetheless.

"You did such a great job, Y/N. I'm so proud of you."

Chuuya said as he kissed the top of your head. You were the most badass woman he had ever come across, and he was smitten. Your fearlessness and bravery always drives him mad. He loves it when you take control of the situation, and effortlessly drop your enemies to the ground. Swag practically flowed through your veins.

But everybody has a soft side, and he was the lucky guy who got to experience yours.

When you didn't answer back, he looked down, only to hear soft snores.

'Did she fall asleep? While standing up?'

"Y/N?"

He says softly, only to hear no response. He chuckled at your adorable form, and picked you up, bridal style.

He began making his way out of the now ruined building, avoiding the rubble and the multiple bodies strewn across the floor. He could have flown out of here, but he was too tired to use his ability.

On his way out, he encountered a woman. She seemed to belong to the organization. If he remembered correctly, she was one of their founders. He hadn't seen her in the place, so maybe she just arrived to the scene.

"Well, well, well! Look what we have here!" She said, taking a step closer and peering at you.

"What a beauty! Bet she'd look much prettier on my bed. Don't you think so, Mr. Executive?"

Chuuya snapped. He activate his ability. The woman felt a sharp object on her neck. Chuuya had used his ability to hold a dagger to her neck. Multiple blades floated in the air, a red glow surrounding them, as they aimed themselves at the woman.

She chuckled.

"Don't get me wrong, dear! You took everything from me. I deserve a good time, don't you think?"

Her smug smirk was wiped off her face when a teeth shattering punch shook her face. Chuuya stood before her, his blue eyes piercing into her with malice and poison.

She stumbled back into the wall, falling on the ground.

He walked up to her, grabbing her hair and forcing her bleeding face to meet his gaze.

"You want a good time?!! I'll show you how great a time you can have in the dungeons!"

She spat out blood.

Chuuya bent down to her level.

"I'll make you beg for death when I'm done with you."

He knocked her out, calling for backup to take her into lockup.

He looked back to see you sleeping soundly inspite of the ruckus he had just caused. He had used his ability to keep you floating safely in the air, and allowing him to move and strike the disgusting woman.

He smiled at you.

"I'll never let anyone hurt you, darling."

He said, softly kissing your forehead.

493 notes · View notes

rogue-durin-16 · 3 years

Text

UNSURPRISING

Summary: There were a few moments during Fred's friendship with Y/n's in which they were a bit too close to kissing. Then, there was that one time they did.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Genre: fluff

Tags:

Fred Weasley: @whiskeyn-rain @lumos-solemn @meph1stophelian

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality

Warnings: language maybe, murder

A/N: this one was not scheduled for tonight but I wanted to cheer @meph1stophelian up because she deserves it, so enjoy your dose of Fred fluff <3

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

"Okay, Y/n," Ginny grabbed a pastry from the platter which we had stolen from the kitchen and that now laid on a small coffee table in the middle of the Room of Requirement. "truth or dare?"

"Dare."

"I dare you to... Wait." She thought about it for a second before leaning on Luna to ask her something. "I dare you to kiss Fred."

"Uh-uh." Fred, who had just moved to the higher table where the drinks had been laid, was quick to respond, "Not happening." shortly after followed by me.

"I'm not doing that."

"You can't skip a dare!" Ron exclaimed outraged.

"I can if I'm over eight years old." I replied, leaning back on the couch with my arms crossed.

"What she said." Fred agreed, raising his glass at me before drinking.

"Since when do you two back out of a dare?" Ginny questioned with a frown.

"Since this girl here" he motioned at me "started dating Pucey."

"What?" Harry asked in shock. "Pucey? Pucey as in Adrian Pucey?"

"Yeah?" I replied.

"You and Pucey?" Hermione raised her brows and gave Ginny a confused look. "I don't quite see it."

"Oi, what's there to see? I'm the only one who has to see it, don't you think?" I responded, slightly annoyed. "And why is no one talking about this bloke's love life?" I pointed at Fred who now stood behind me. "He's dating that Hufflepuff girl too!"

He tsked his tongue. "Not anymore."

"That's... unsurprising." George commented.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Fred questioned suspicious, kicking my leg for me to move aside so he could sit.

His twin snorted. "You know what's supposed to mean." He took a sip from his drink before nodding at Ginny. "C'mon Gin, change the dare— for Pucey's sake." George scanned us both with analyzing eyes before adding, "we don't want Y/n to end up ditching his boyfriend for this twit, now do we?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"YEEEEH" I was already down on the arena, clapping, when Fred landed with a wide cocky grin on his face, his breathing ragged due to the match's intense last few minutes.

I had rushed down the moment the snitch was caught to be the first one to congratulate him, so I was quite breathless too.

"Did you see me up there? Saving the bloody match!" He exclaimed, tossing his broom and bat on the ground in order to catch me when I threw myself to him.

"You were brilliant oh my gosh!" I let out a surprised laugh. The match seemed pretty much lost until Fred's performance came into play. "Oi, don't let it go to your head!" I was quick to add, pulling away from his embrace.

"Y/n Y/l/n just said I'm brilliant," He stated, the grin not leaving his face. "it's definitely going to my head."

I groaned, letting my forehead fall against his chest. His heart was beating fast, but I blamed it on the adrenaline of the match.

But what was I supposed to blame on the way my own heartbeat picked up when his hand found the small of my back and casually pulled me a tad closer?

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Oi," I slid open the door's compartment and scanned it briefly before saying, "everything's full, do you mind—"

"Not at all." Fred rapidly answered, sitting up slightly but quickly returning to his laid back position after I had taken a seat by his side.

I had a brief exchange of words with George and Lee before silence fell upon us; it was quite unsual, yet understandable due to the exhaustion we had been put under during the last semester.

It was because of it that Lee fell asleep, shortly after followed by George. I took the chance to grab my book to avoid giving in to the sleep, though my reading was soon disturbed by Fred's foot tapping over the upholstery of the seat.

"What?" I questioned quietly, my brow quirked at him while my eyes peeked over the book.

"What are you reading?"

"Advanced Potion-Making— what do you want?"

"Rude." I rolled my eyes, making a smirk dance on his lips. He seemed to weigh what he was about to say. "I got you something for Christmas."

"Wait— you what?" He got up, ignoring my shock, and, stretching his hands to reach his bag, he pulled out a small package. "I— you—"

"Speechless, I see." He pointed out amused, handing me the package before plopping back down, his gaze trained on me. "C'mon, open it." His teeth trapped his lower lip in anticipation, and I felt how my blood started to pump violently through my veins before I unwrapped the present. "A little birdy told me you liked... What's it called? Chokers?" I could only nod, speechless at the delicate choker in my lap. "I mean, my hand would have been just as good but you can wear this one in public too."

My face flared up at his words and astonishment was replaced by the usual need to fuck that little bastard up. "I hate you."

"I'm kidding, love." He chuckled, tugging on his sleeves and nodding at the jewelry. "You like it?"

The softness in his gaze made my anger go away as I took another look at the choker. "I love it, but you didn't have to." I scrunched my nose. "it looks very—"

"If you say expensive I'll shove it up your arse so watch your tongue." He warned me, half jokingly and half serious.

"What a way of ruining a sweet gesture." I pointed out, feigning a pout.

"Don't worry, I'll make it sweet again, you'll see—" he pushed himself away from the wall and scooted closer to me, tending his palm. "Give it to me." I obeyed and shifted my position so I would have my back to him. His fingers moved my hair away before his hands carefully placed the strap of velvet around my throat and clasped it. "There." He whispered, putting my hair back in place.

I turned around again without any clue of what to tell him. "I-I'd have gotten you something—"

"Y/n, it's a gift, not a trade." He gave me a warm smile, one that anyone rarely got to see, and my face heated up once more. His eyes seemed to flicker to my lips just for an instant, but he soon averted them from me to check on our peers. "Don't tell them, I won't hear the end of it."

I too peeked at them before leaning in and placing a soft kiss on Fred's cheek. "Merry Christmas, Fred."

The little smile grew into a wide side grin while he casted his face down, fixing it on his hands. "Merry Christmas, Y/n."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was out after curfew, yes, but I wasn't doing anything bad, just visiting my friends in their common room; I only had to be careful and no one would notice me.

Or so I thought.

To my luck, while I was tiptoeing through one of the halls, none other than Fred Weasley bumped into me.

"Shit!" We both took a moment to observe one another. "Alright, sorry in advance." He apologised, taking a peek at the path he had taken before grabbing my hand and pulling me with him.

I didn't hesitate on running with me; I knew he had brought trouble directly to me, and if I didn't follow, I would get detention and, with Umbridge in control, I had to avoid that at all costs.

"Wait wait— Here!" He tapped what I assumed was a camouflaged door and pulled me inside before it could open completely.

We both reached for the door at the same time, shutting it as fast and quiet as possible and stepping back right in time to hear what I assumed was a part of Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad.

Fred was so close that I could feel his heavy breath tickling my neck while we stumbled back into the pitch black darkness of the narrow passage.

"Well, that was close." I commented, trying to keep my pants at bay; it was the only sound heard —our pants.

His hands left my biceps to presumably fall limply on his sides, but he didn't step back to put some space between us. I couldn't see anything, but I still turned around and instantly knew his eyes were trying to find mines, just like my fingertips attempted to intertwin with his.

It was a bad idea, but no one had to know; the lack of light in the secret passage would prevent anyone to witness it, even us.

No one would see it, I thought, trailing my fingers up his arm until I reached his cheek.

His own hand made its way to my waist, giving it a squeeze and pulling me to him.

I pushed him away as soon as we heard Filch's cat miaowing at the hidden door, followed by the erratic running of the caretaker.

Fred grunted in frustration. "C'mon!" He rushed me, taking my hand once more and running down the ginnel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

We were running breathless, hands held, casting spells left and right.

'Don't stop moving' Arthur had said when the part of the castle we were defending fell into the Dementors' claws.

One of the Carrow apparated a few feet ahead of us, sending a Cruciatus in our direction even before we came to a halt in our running.

Fred raised his wand, quick as lightning, shielding us from the curse, and I didn't miss a beat before hexing the death eater, hitting her right in the chest.

Fred spun around to guard my back from another death eater that stood behind us while I, seeing that the Carrow sister attempted to get up, casted another stunning spell at her, only that this time it hit her shield.

Both Fred and I duelled the two Voldemort's acolytes until we managed to take them out almost simultaneously, yet in very different ways.

"STUPEFY!" Fred yelled out loud to enhance the spell's effect.

I did the same, knowing I needed that extra push to take Carrow out only that my spell was way more harmful. "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Fred turned around, still gripping my hand, to see the death eater's corpse on the floor. "Fuck!" He exclaimed.

"Was that a good 'fuck' or a bad 'fuck'?" I inquired, adrenaline pumping through my veins when I turned to meet the redhead's eyes, sparkling with excitement.

"Definitely a good 'fuck'." We both let out a laugh as if I hadn't just murdered someone. "Kiss me." He demanded; fortunately, I was thinking that same thing, so my lips crashed against his in a rough kiss right after he had finished the sentence.

We both tried to pour into the kiss as much sentiment as possible to let the other know how much we had craved to do that for the last three years. Our hands and arms were wrapped around each other, pulling our bodies as close as possible in the now empty corridor as if the world was about to end; it most likely was.

"Being realistic," I began speaking against his lips, once he had pulled away only enough for us to breathe. "we might be dead by tomorrow," if the situation was a bit different, we would probably be crying, but our little victory had made euphoria flood our hearts. "so know that—"

"I love you too." He finished with a nod.

I nodded back, pecking his lips before untangling by limbs from his and pulling him with me in order to resume our jog away.

470 notes · View notes

fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

eve, what i would not GIVE to read one of our boys being edged within the very last inch of his life (if you have time of course and would like to !)

Of course I have time! Please enjoy some questionable decisions and skinny jean worship. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for semi-public smut, mentioned mild injury, alcohol, and tears (the good kind)

The second they were out of view, Sirius pushed Remus against the wall and shoved both hands up his shirt with reckless abandon. “Jesus—Christ,” Remus said between frantic kisses, leaving a bite on his lower lip. “Impatient, much?”

“Off,” Sirius demanded, though it came out as more of a pathetic plea as he slid one hand down to cup Remus’ ass.

“We’re in public,” Remus mumbled against his lips.

“Don’t care.”

“You’re gonna break my ass if you keep squeezing that hard.”

Sirius whined into his mouth and pushed their hips together. “Skinny jeans.”

“I fucking knew it,” Remus said with a grin. “Come on.”

“Wh—” A hand closed around his wrist and Remus dragged him down the hallway at a run, his face bright with excitement and flushed with arousal. Sirius had been looking forward to a heavy makeout session and maybe a handjob in the hall, but he couldn’t bring himself to protest when letting Remus haul him around meant he could stare at the best ass the world had ever seen for a few moments longer. Want, he thought. Want that. Now.

Remus opened a door on the left with clumsy fingers and pulled him inside with a hand on the back of his neck; as soon as the door shut, he broke away from the kiss and hurried over to the desk. “Two seconds,” he panted.

“I…okay?” Sirius leaned back against the door in confusion. They were in the PT room—he’d know that place anywhere, even through his lust-addled haze—and Remus was stealing Layla’s chair. “Why do you need that?”

“I really hope she didn’t find it,” Remus muttered to himself as he stood on the seat and stretched to reach the gap between the built-in shelves and the ceiling. After a moment of befuddling silence, his face split into a grin. “Got it.”

“Can I kiss you now?” Sirius asked.

“You can do more than that,” Remus said, hopping down from his perch. He tossed a small tube across the room and swaggered over, obviously proud of himself. Sirius frowned at the tube; it was too dark to read the label, but it seemed familiar.

Realization struck just as Remus reached him. “Is this lube?”

“Yup.”

“You keep lube in Layla’s office?”

“I kept lube in my office,” Remus corrected, wrapping his hands in the front of Sirius’ shirt and turning them so his own back was against the door. “And I forgot about it until five minutes ago. Thank god she’s short.”

“Why?”

Remus sighed through his nose. “Because I was horny and ever-hopeful, and maybe I harbored a fantasy or two about fucking on the desk. Does it matter?”

Sirius wasn’t sure his eyebrows could creep any higher. “Was that—are we going to—?”

“Are you kidding? Hell no. I’m not desecrating Layla’s desk. However, we are going to be fucking against this door, so if you would kindly take your shirt off, it would be appreciated.”

Sirius paused, then wrenched his shirt over his head so fast he nearly tore the fabric, crowding closer to Remus to drown in his kisses and his hands roving Sirius’ bare skin. He was practically vibrating with anticipation—Remus wasn’t the only one with fantasies about exciting times in the PT room, but until that moment Sirius had been sure his own were nothing more than a pipe dream.

Except this pipe dream seemed awfully real, and it came equipped with skinny jeans.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he murmured into the side of Remus’ neck, gripping his waist tight over the denim as their hips rocked together. “You and your legs.”

Remus pulled his face up for another openmouthed kiss as his hand snuck down to undo Sirius’ belt, fumbling with the clasp and button before yanking the zipper open. “What are you going to do about it, captain?”

New voices echoed in the hall outside and they both went still, though Remus’ smile didn’t falter in the slightest. Sirius quirked an eyebrow at him. “You’re going to have to be quiet.”

“I can be quiet.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it hard for you.”

“I’m always hard for you,” Remus teased, leaning back against the door with a huff as Sirius bit down on the junction of his shoulder. “Now come on, slowpoke, I didn’t get that lube down for nothing.”

Sirius made a disgruntled noise into his skin and smacked him lightly on the thigh; Remus just laughed, though it was more breathless than before. The clear outline of his dick stood out in his skinny jeans and Sirius rubbed his palm over the shaft with steady pressure until Remus’ exhales trembled and his feet began to shuffle on the linoleum. “What if I want to see you come all over those skinny jeans?”

“No,” Remus whined, bucking his hips as Sirius traced the head. “Fuck, Sirius, I gave you the lube for a reason.”

“I could blow you.” He carefully undid the front button and slid the zipper down at a snail’s pace. He could feel his own heartbeat in his dick already, but shoved that thought to the back of his mind. “Return the favor after all that time in here?”

Remus grumbled into the dip of his shoulder, then leaned away to glare. “Either fuck me or I’ll do it myself.”

“You don’t want my mouth?”

“I want your mouth on me and your dick in me,” he fired back, though Sirius could see the playfulness in his eyes as he pulled Sirius’ lower lip between his teeth. “Get with the program, captain.”

Sirius nuzzled into his cheek, leaving a kiss by the corner of his mouth. “Will you wear these every day?”

“You like them?”

He moved his hands from Remus’ hips back his ass, grabbing a handful of each side with a hum. “You look like a walking wet dream.”

“Then do something about it.”

“Ask nicely.”

“I stood on a chair to get you lube,” Remus snorted. “That’s pretty damn nice.”

“Say ‘please’.”

“Why?”

“Because otherwise I’ll keep doing this until you can’t take it anymore.” Sirius begrudgingly moved one hand back around to hold Remus’ dick through his pants; he shifted, brows pitching, before he sighed.

“Then do something about it please.”

A thrill raced white-hot through Sirius’ stomach and up his spine, and he slipped both hands under the high waistband to slowly drag them down Remus’ thighs, revealing first his boxers, then miles of golden skin. “Off,” he said quietly when they reached his ankles. Remus’ throat bobbed and he kicked first his shoes off, then his jeans. Sirius tossed his own aside as well and began the all-important removal of Remus’ henley. “You should wear this more often, too.”

Remus cleared his throat. “Yeah, okay.”

“Wasn’t that easy?” Sirius didn’t give him the chance to respond—his lips were looking far too kissable to worry about things like that, especially when the snark melted out of Remus on a slow breath when their lips met. More people ran by outside, but he didn’t care. They had no lights on, and he would make sure they were quiet enough. “Up.”

Remus pushed down on his shoulders just as Sirius caught him by the thighs and hoisted him up against the door; some of the dizzying arousal on his face gave way to a giddy smile. “I love it when you do that. Which leg d’you want me to keep down?”

Sirius smiled and nudged their noses together. “Neither.”

A beat of silence fell over the room. “But…I won’t have leverage.”

“And?”

“And I need leverage.”

“Says who?” Sirius dipped his fingertips under the waistband of Remus’ boxers and kissed the confusion off his face. “I can hold you.”

His breaths turned shallow with anticipation; Sirius snapped the elastic against his skin before pulling it down, down, down over the curve of his ass and the muscle of his thighs as they clenched around his waist. He did have to set him down for a moment to get both their boxers off, but within moments Remus’ heartbeat was pounding next to his shoulder again and Sirius was in perfect range to lean up and kiss him.

The lube was small enough that he could open it with one hand and squeeze it directly onto Remus’ cleft, making him jolt with a hushed curse. Sirius capped it again and tossed it onto the closest table, still supporting Remus with one arm under him and their hips pressed flush together. He gathered some of the lube onto his fingers and circled his hole before sliding in—he didn’t stop at the first knuckle to let Remus adjust and instead kept pushing until the whole digit was inside.

Remus’ mouth fell open slightly; he tried to rock down for more, but he couldn’t do much other than tighten his thighs around Sirius. “Leverage.”

“You don’t need it.”

“Can’t move,” Remus whined, squirming until a second finger started moving in beside the first. A shiver rolled through him when Sirius crooked them; outside, the music from the party was still making the wooden door tremble. Earlier in the night, he had fantasized about ditching the team party to spend the night with a pair of glorious legs thrown over his shoulders—now, he knew there was no better way to avoid Harzy’s godawful spiked punch than fucking his boyfriend in said boyfriend’s previous office.

“How much do you want to feel it?” Sirius asked as Remus buried his face in his neck.

“Game,” he managed around a moan as Sirius found his sweet spot. “Can’t—need to be okay for the game—god fuck there.”

The music softened for a moment as the songs switched and Sirius shushed him. “Quiet, mon coeur, they’ll hear you.”

Remus bit down hard on his lower lip to stifle the answering choked whine, and Sirius took his fingers out to gently pull it free. Remus had bitten his lip bloody trying to keep quiet before, but tonight wasn’t about how rough they could be. It was about giving him a taste of what those skinny jeans did to Sirius, and making sure he never forgot it. “Put it back,” Remus pleaded. “Put it back.”

“Nice and slow,” Sirius soothed. “We’ve got a game, you said it yourself. Have to make sure you’re relaxed.”

Remus closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the door, toying with the hair at the nape of Sirius’ neck. This is going to be fun, Sirius thought as he pushed two fingers back in. Very, very fun.

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

“Storage closet,” Nado confirmed as he plopped down next to James on one of the leather couches in the game room. “Could hear ‘em from all the way down the hall.”

“Hey, I get it,” James said with a shake of his head. “Nat was in Florida for, like, two weeks. I miss Lily after two days. Kudos to them for finding a place to fuck without actually ditching the party.”

Nado took a swig of beer. “What’s the tally?”

“Cubs in the break room, Cap and Loops…somewhere, and now Nat and Kasey in the storage closet.” James counted on his fingers. “Sounds like a damn successful party to me.”

“Amen.” Nado clinked their bottles together. “I bet you a Kinder egg Cap and Loops are in the PT room.”

“Deal.”

“Pay up, then, ‘cause I heard them while I was walking back.”

“Aw, come on,” James complained. “That’s so not fair!”

“Thunk, thunk, thunk,” Nado mimicked with a grin. “The Kinder egg is for emotional support.”

“Cheater,” James muttered.

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

“Oh, fuck, there,” Remus panted, tilting his head back as Sirius canted his hips forward for the next thrust. “Please.”

“Tell me what you want.” Sweat dripped down Sirius’ temple and he wiped it on his shoulder without breaking pace; he had been holding Remus up with the help of the door for over ten minutes, and he was finally starting to feel a slight burn. Remus’ turned his face to the side as his whole body tensed, bracing against the doorjamb with one arm and gripping under Sirius’ shoulder with the other.

“Anything,” he moaned.

“You have to be quiet, mon loup.” Sirius nosed along the glistening expanse of Remus’ neck, leaving bites and kisses in his wake.

“I can’t.”

“Be good for me.”

“ ‘m trying, promise.” Remus’ shaking thigh dug into his waist as he tried to breathe through it, only for a whimper to escape when Sirius sucked a mark beneath his collarbone.

“I can make you, if I have to.”

He heard Remus’ breath catch, hitching between thrusts, and Sirius kept one hand on each side of his ass to support him. He locked his ankles at the small of Sirius’ back with a soft noise. “My mouth, I—your neck, please, please, I can’t reach.”

“I can’t get you—” He broke off with an oh of his own as Remus tightened around him. “—close enough, not like this.”

“Fuck,” Remus huffed. His teeth slid over his lower lip again; an idea sprang to life in Sirius’ mind.

“You want something in your mouth, mon amour?”

“Yes, yes, pl—”

Sirius interrupted him by sliding two fingers into his mouth, muffling the answering moan. “Is that good?”

Remus nodded enthusiastically, running his tongue over the pads of Sirius’ fingers. The burn in his right arm grew a bit more intense without the help of the left to keep Remus up, but the change in position seemed to be doing something good—Remus’ eyes fluttered shut and his abs jumped at the feeling. Sirius’ fingertips buzzed with each sound he pulled from him, each slurred plea, each choked groan as Remus’ lips turned cherry red around them. The party was still roaring, but in the darkness of the PT room there was nothing but them and the door.

“Can you come like this?” Sirius asked, speeding up his pace by a degree. He didn’t want his arm to seize and drop Remus, but he wasn’t too keen on stopping the waves of pleasure crashing down his spine, either.

Remus paused, then nodded with some hesitation. “Dunno,” he managed around Sirius’ fingers. “Tired?”

“Just my arm,” Sirius admitted with a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “I’m okay right now, though.”

“Mhmm—” Remus cut off with a sharp gasp and a series of short inhales; his hands dug into Sirius’ back muscles and he sucked hard on the digits pressing his tongue down.

“Like that?” Sirius circled his hips again and Remus’ eyes unfocused for a second as his dick twitched. “D’accord.”

After that, it was almost too easy. Sirius closed his eyes and kept his face tucked against the side of Remus’ neck as he shook closer to the edge with every passing moment, focusing less on the burn of his arm and more on the wet warmth around his fingers. A few stray tears of overwhelming pleasure dripped down Remus’ cheeks as he pushed back as best he could and Sirius hitched him higher up the door, kissing away the tracks. Within moments, their heartbeats and breaths were the only thing he could hear.

Remus mumbled some form of his name and Sirius pulled away from the collection of hickeys forming on his neck to kiss him on the side of the mouth; with great effort, Remus raised an unsteady hand and pulled Sirius’ away from his mouth. “Almost there,” he breathed, voice wound wire-taut. “Almost.”

“You earned it. À tout moment.” Any time. Remus’ face scrunched, his knee slid up to Sirius’ ribcage, and then Sirius wrapped his spit-slick hand around his shaft and he came with a shuddering exhale, gripping the backs of Sirius’ shoulders like his life depended on it as he swallowed his moans.

He was hot and tight and Sirius could feel both their rabbit-quick pulses—he moved both hands back to Remus’ ass and kept his face pressed close to his neck as he came with a bitten-back whine, his knees nearly giving out under him. As soon as his vision stopped blurring, he set Remus down and they both sank to the floor. “Holy shit,” Remus said at last, leaning his head on Sirius’ arm.

“Holy shit,” Sirius agreed.

Remus sat up and ran a hand down his face, using his abandoned shirt to wipe away the sweat and tearstains. “Thanks for sneaking into my old office for mindblowing sex.”

Sirius wasn’t sure his lungs would ever be at full capacity again. “No problem.”

They both laughed at that, then found they couldn’t stop. It took three full minutes for Sirius to catch his breath again, and the first thing he did was press a gentle kiss to Remus’ lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Sirius said with a smile. “Do you think they miss us yet?”

“Are you kidding?” Remus snorted. “They probably haven’t realized we’re gone. Kasey and Nat ran off a good ten minutes before us, too, so it’s not like we did some scandalous new thing.”

“And alcohol.”

“And alcohol.” Remus pulled one of Sirius’ arms over his shoulders and cuddled into his side with a contented hum. “We’re going to have to clean this door, but I don’t think I can move yet.”

“Did you also store water and snacks in here, by chance?”

“I already feel bad about ruining Layla’s door. I’m not emotionally prepared to steal her food, too.”

“We can sneak to the bathroom in cinq minutes,” Sirius said, checking Remus’ watch with a yawn. “Dix minutes.”

“Ten minutes,” Remus repeated sleepily. “Then I’ll see if I can get those jeans on again.”

“Don’t remind me,” Sirius groaned.

“If that’s what happens when I wear them, those skinny jeans are staying on until I’m dead. Bury me in them.”

“Noted.”

A rapid knock on the door didn’t get even a flinch out of either of them. “Occupied,” Remus called.

“Dix minutes,” Sirius added as he closed his eyes. “Dix minutes.”

#sirius black #remus lupin #coops #james potter #jackson nadeau #nado #sweater weather #vaincre #lumosinlove #cubs #my fic #fanfic #smut #semi-public #pt room

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