#i think the eyes probably fall under clusters

[bubblebaath]

she needs to take some of your blood! she needs to take all of your blood

#no she isnt qualified for this but its too late to ask // #gore #blood #body horror #eye horror #scopophobia #bleeding #i think the eyes probably fall under clusters// #clusters #trypophobia #oc:capable

[hollybell51]

Don't bet on it

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Castiel x AFAB!fem!Reader

Supernatural (2005)

Word count: 9.6K (I'm shocked too dw)

Summary: I have no idea how to describe this I'm so sorry it's just smut. There's also some morning-after shenanigans. Believe me if I could I would but thinking of a title was hard enough.

Content: Just... pretty much 9.6K words of shameless Cas smut because I love him. Only one bed, porn with a plot, friends to lovers (sort of), little bit of hurt/comfort and first aid (?), Cas is a bit of warning honestly. Smut: Cas is a virgin, first kiss, making out, hickeys, blowjob, handjob, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (yikes), fingering, very very light dirty talk, very loving very gentle sex, sharing a bed. Dean is a bit of an oblivious idiot, Sam is less oblivious.

Notes: I wrote this while trying to fall asleep at my friend's house and didn't proof read. I've also only known Cas for six episodes (almost seven), so most of the characterisation for him is based of gifsets, incorrect quotes, and other fanfics (so is the lore/plot because I'm not that far into the series yet but I was impatient so just ignore any mistakes or plot inconsistencies if you find them, although I did try). Hence it's probably bad. But oh well, this wouldn't leave my brain until I wrote it and like I said I'm impatient and also I'm a little bit proud of the smut alone and he's fucking hot I mean come on. Dean Winchester is a better man than me because god damn I would've jumped his bones the second he looked at me and I have no idea how he didn't. Be nice.

Cas was watching you. Again. It wasn’t like you minded, but something about his cool eyes following your movements from across the booth made butterflies swirl in your stomach. You were acutely aware of every single bubble in your glass of lemonade, every clink of the ice cubes, every slurpy noise it made through the straw you were sucking on. You probably looked a bit stupid, hunched over your drink and the plate that had contained your burger, the huge shirt you’d borrowed from Sam while the one you’d packed for yourself dried rolled up to your elbows, hanging off your shoulders way too much to ever be considered cute. Not that you wanted to look cute, and not that it mattered, but…

“There’s a pharmacy down the street,” Sam was saying. “They’d probably have more of that antiseptic, right?” 

There was a pause in which you snuck a glance at Cas. His gaze was fixed on the bubbles clustering on your straw, mildly interested as they formed and floated away, formed and floated, again and again in an endless cycle. You’d never found bubbles so fascinating, but now that you looked – and you knew he was looking too – there’d never been anything so beautiful. 

“(Y/N)?” 

Right, yeah, antiseptic. The cut on your shoulder seemed to itch at the thought, prickling under the carefully applied dressing. You’d done it on a barbed wire fence that had barred the entry to a nest of vampires, and a day later Sam was still worried it would get infected. It wasn’t exactly a clean cut – the fence had been filthy, and your assurance that yes, you were up to date with tetanus shots had stopped him driving you to a hospital. You appreciated the concern, but really, you were sure it would be fine. 

“Mhm,” you answered, leaning back in your seat. “D’you think it’ll still be open?” 

Beside you, Dean frowned, looking around for a clock. “It’s not that late, right?” 

“There’s an open sign in the window.” All eyes swung to Cas, who shrugged, pointing. “It’s lit up,” he added. 

“Oh, right,” you said faintly. “Thanks Cas.” 

He smiled, a tiny twitch of his lips that had no right to make your heart speed up as much as it did. “That’s ok.” 

You smiled back. Your face seemed determined to ignore your brain and grin like an idiot, and it was a damn struggle to keep it to a normal expression. 

“Right,” Sam said, clearing his throat and bursting the little bubble you could have sworn you’d been stuck in. You would have liked to stay there, where it was just Cas smiling at you. But no, you were being silly. 

“Right,” you echoed. There was a slightly awkward silence, in which you swirled your straw around idly, watching Cas watch the movement of ice cubes and bubbles. When you’d first met him, you hadn’t really believed he was an angel. He seemed so… ordinary. Shabby, even. But the longer you were around him, the surer you’d become that he was the real deal. Strange, not what you’d expected at all, but a real honest-to-goodness angel nonetheless. Even now that he was human, there was still definitely something otherworldly in Cas. Something that, despite the grime and rust of the lives all four of you lead, was almost pure, precious to you, and a little unnerving all at once. 

“Do you want some?” you asked, gesturing to your drink. 

Cas’s eyes snapped up, almost guiltily. 

You smiled. “Lemonade.” 

He nodded slowly.

“Here.” You pushed the glass across the table, leaning your chin on your hands and watching as he moved the straw around, then sipped it. You’d been having way too much fun plying him with new things to taste, since food now actually tasted like… food. As opposed to molecules. Apparently. 

He wrinkled his nose, drawing back and staring at the glass. Then he leaned forward again and took another sip. There was something in his near-childlike wonder that made your heart ache, the appearance of innocence and naivety so profound that it was hard to remember he was – had been – a soldier. A divine soldier of God. Watching him made you want to reach across the table and just… Well, you didn’t know what it made you want to do. Grab him, maybe? It didn’t matter. 

“Any good?” Dean asked, watching Cas mildly. 

“It’s very sweet,” he reported. “And sticky.” 

Despite yourself, you laughed. 

Cas surveyed you, then gave another of those little smiles you’d come to treasure. He took another sip, his eyes never leaving your face. 

You cleared your throat, suddenly hyper aware of exactly where you were and what you were supposed to be doing. Not staring at – “mooning over” Dean had teasingly called it not even three days ago, a thought that still plagued you – Cas, that was for sure. You slid out of the booth, since you were the one who needed the antiseptic and you were on the edge. “I’ll go across, meet you back at the hotel.” 

“You sure?” Sam asked, watching as you dropped some money on the table. Enough to cover your burger and a small portion of the tip. 

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” You turned towards Cas, shooting him a small smile. He looked a little confused, and you couldn’t deny the pang of guilt that tugged at your insides. “You can finish that off,” you told him, “if you want.” 

“Thankyou,” he said after a moment. 

“Yeah, sure.” You nodded to Sam and Dean, the former of whom was staring between you and Cas with a look of what could only be described as incredulity plastered across his face. You were going to ignore it, you decided. “Seeya later,” you said, and left. 

You stood before the motel room, shopping bag in hand, staring at Sam’s text. Had he and Dean done this deliberately? Was this some kind of conspiracy between the two of them? 

“Room 09,” the message read, “you’re sharing with Cas.” And then, shortly after; “Don’t worry, it’s a double.” 

Well, you thought, at least you wouldn’t have to share a bed, and at least you wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt of Cas taking the couch – even though he insisted he didn’t mind, and refused to let you do it. 

Just as you raised your hand to knock, the door swung open and there stood the former angel, still in his beige trench coat, tie and all. He hadn’t even taken his shoes off. 

“Hi,” you said, slightly breathless. There was something stupidly endearing about the way he just stood there, looking at you. 

“Hi,” he repeated. “Do you want to come in?” 

“Uh, yeah.” Awkwardly, you squeezed past him into the dully lit room, switching on the light with your elbow. Had he just been sitting in here by himself, in the dark? You hoped not, but at the same time, it was exactly the sort of thing you could imagine him doing. 

You deposited your groceries – the antiseptic, a new packet of dressings, painkillers, and a twix you’d grabbed at the counter. You’d figured you could share it with whoever your roomie was, and now you were glad you’d had that foresight. You turned, surveyed the room, then did a double take. Surely not. There had to be something you were missing. 

But no, on closer inspection, your eyes were not deceiving you. There was only one bed. A double bed, sure, but still only one bed. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you muttered, already reaching for your phone. 

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, a concerned wrinkle appearing between his brows. 

“Sam said this was a double,” you told him. 

“It is.” 

“Yeah, but there’s only one bed. I always feel bad kicking you to the couch.” 

“I don’t mind. And besides,” he added, “you’ve never kicked me.” 

“No it’s–” you broke off, catching his smile. “Yeah, alright” 

The smile widened. He was a little too proud of himself for your liking. 

You looked away, hoping to hide your own grin as you dialled Sam’s number. “You said it was a double,” you accused before he could even greet you. 

“Yeah, hi to you too,” he snorted. “It is.” 

“There’s only one bed, Sam. Does your room have only one bed?” 

“No, we’ve got two singles.” 

“Lucky you,” you practically spat. “Now I’m gonna have to live with the guilt of knowing Cas is on the couch.” 

“So?” You could almost hear the frown in Sam’s voice. “He doesn’t mind.” 

“I know, but–” 

“Share the bed with him if it bothers you that much,” he cut you off. In the background, Dean was saying something. Sam shushed him. “I’m sure he’d be happy to.” 

“What’s that supposed to–” 

He interrupted you again, all too cheerful. “You’ll sort it out.” 

You stared at the phone, “call ended” flashing up at you. “Fuck you, Sam,” you sighed. 

By the door, Cas frowned. “Is something the matter?” 

“No,” you sighed again, grabbing the dressings and antiseptic and taking a seat on the end of the singular bed. Through the gap in the curtains, the sky was darkening from the pale purple it had been at the diner to a deep indigo. “Just… Sam.” 

Cas nodded solemnly, as if he knew exactly what you meant. 

You tried not to pay too much attention to him as you unbuttoned Sam’s shirt, sliding it down off your shoulder to bare the current dressing. You’d had it on all that day and the night before, so you figured it was time to change it. Gently, you peeled back the adhesive, hissing as the air brushed over the cut. It wasn’t as bad as it had been, mostly scabbed over and less raw-looking than when you’d first applied the dressing, but it was still tender. It was awkward to reach too, running from your shoulder along your collarbone, stopping just shy of the centre of the sternum. Stupid, you’d cursed yourself when you’d done it, and you cursed yourself again now. 

“Would you like some help?” 

You looked up, meeting Cas’s eyes. Soundlessly, he’d crossed the room and was now standing directly in front of you. 

He gestured to the cut. “It looks hard to reach.” 

“Uh, yeah, it is.” You shifted over, making room for him beside you. “Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome.” He sank down beside you, his weight tilting you towards him. Your stomach lurched. 

Determinedly dismissing it, you turned slightly to face him, one leg dangling off the side of the bed, the other folded under you. Almost immediately you wished you hadn’t done it, because now all you could see was him, bent over you, his face impassive and focused to a fault. 

He took the antiseptic from you, gently dabbing it along the edges of the scab. 

“Is that alright?” he asked when you gasped softly. 

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Just… stings a little.” 

Guilt flashed across his face. “Oh, I’m sorry.” 

“No, no, it’s not you. You’re fine,” you assured him. “It’s the antiseptic, it’s normal.” 

“Should I keep going?” 

You nodded, your heart racing. His skin was cool where it brushed yours, the shitty lighting somehow playing tricks with the colours in his eyes, making them appear even more startlingly blue than usual. Those eyes were fixed on your cut, like it was the only thing that mattered in the world. 

“I wish you’d taken me with you,” he said as he reached for a dressing pad. 

“Hm?” You frowned, unsure what he meant. You’d gone alone, which wasn’t why you’d fumbled crossing the fence, but it certainly hadn’t helped. Sam and Dean had been after a demon in the next town over – it took precedence over vampires, you all knew that – and Cas had been with them. You’d been convinced you’d be alright to tackle such a small nest, it was only three, barely a nest at all, and had insisted on it. But still, you’d been a bit more wired than usual, and that was probably to blame for your bungled entrance. It didn’t matter now, you were fine. They were dead. 

He shrugged, smoothing the dressing over your skin more gently than you’d ever thought possible. “On the hunt. I wish you’d taken me with you.” 

“Nah,” you shook your head, trying to dispel the ache his action caused inside you. “You had other stuff on. You don’t need to be wasting time running after a nest of vampires, demons take priority.” You smiled. “You’ve got more to worry about than a silly little hunter who can’t jump fences.”

Cas looked up, that little wrinkle reappearing on his forehead. “That’s not true,” he said, “I’ll always have time for you. I’ll always worry about you.” 

You froze, taken aback by the… intimacy of the words. You’d mentioned before that you liked when people just said what they meant (“Even if it hurts you?” he’d asked, frowning. You’d said that you’d rather that than be left searching for double meanings and hidden clues, and he’d seemed to find that acceptable.), and since then he’d indulged you in that regard. But this felt different, it felt more real than anything he’d ever said to you before. He’d always have time for you, he worried about you. 

“Really?” you asked. “You mean that?” 

He nodded, his eyes sincere where he held your gaze. There was something here, you knew, something tingling in the air between you. You’d half thought you were imagining things when you noticed him looking at you. You’d chalked it up to him being, well, Cas, and hadn’t allowed yourself to dwell too long on the glimmer of hope that it was more than that. And he’d been an angel for Pete’s sake; divine, untouchable, totally out of your reach. But here, now, with his hand resting where it had settled on your thigh and his face inches from yours, the dimness of the motel somehow illuminating every dancing fleck of colour in his eyes, every beautiful shadow and line on his – human – face, you weren’t ignoring it any longer. 

His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke. “You’re important to me, (Y/N).” 

Oh. Oh. There it was.

He was still looking at you, but there was a hint of what you would have said was nervousness, maybe apprehension, mixed with the sincerity and lingering concern in his eyes. It was so… raw. You felt strangely vulnerable, while at the same time like you were seeing something you weren’t supposed to. 

Involuntarily, your eyes flicked down to his lips, your breath hitching in your chest. Fuck it, you thought, then closed the few inches of space between you and pressed your lips to his. 

He was completely motionless, and for a wild moment you were convinced you’d grossly misread something and had just made a massive mistake. Then it was like he was coming to life beneath you, pushing back against you, his lips parting under yours, his free hand finding its place cupping your cheek. His mouth was soft, impossibly soft. His tongue, when you brushed against it with your own, tasted like your lemonade. 

It was near dead silent in the room, the ticking of the clock on the wall and the distant thrumming of traffic outside the only noises. Then, as you slid your hand up over his leg, fingers squeezing gently at his thigh, Cas made a sound. 

It was halfway between a sigh and moan, tiny and restrained, and you could feel him hesitate in the kiss. This is new, it said. This is nice. You let your lips curve into the smile they’d been trying to, squeezing again. It’s alright, you told him with your hand, you’re alright. 

You drew back momentarily, sucking a quick breath as Cas chased you, his hand on the back of your neck pulling you closer and closer and closer and closer and impossibly closer until your chest met his. Then you were shifting into his lap, swinging your leg over his and straddling his hips like it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was. It sure felt like it. 

“Cas,” you breathed, breaking away properly this time and raising your hands to cup his face. “Castiel.” 

“Hm?”

You moved your thumb in a soft arc over his cheekbone, smiling as he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. His lips found your hand, peppering your palm and wrist with featherlight kisses. 

“Can I?” you asked, reluctantly freeing a hand to push at the trench coat he was still wearing. 

He looked up, frowning. “What?” 

“Take it off,” you whispered, then heat rose in your cheeks. “If you want to, of course. If you want this. You don’t have to.” 

He shook his head, pulling back to shrug off the heavy piece of clothing. The blazer followed. He loosened his tie, then seemed to think for a moment before undoing it altogether. It was the first time you’d seen him without it, and he looked… different. Unguarded, almost. Then he was reaching up and unfastening the buttons of his shirt, torturously slowly. He paused, meeting your eyes. 

“Is this alright?” he asked. 

You smiled, nodding. You’d been staring, you realised, watching his deft fingers work at the material so intently that you hadn’t been thinking about what would show on your face. You took over, finishing off the last few fastenings and pushing the shirt back off his shoulders. You didn’t know what you’d expected his body to look like. You’d had the vague notion that it would be nice, that it would somehow match the rest of him, and you hadn’t been wrong, but now that he was in front of you that same disconcerting feeling of unearthliness haunted the back of your mind. This was Cas, Castiel, and that made it somehow hallowed – irony aside. 

“Are you alright?” He was peering up at you, apprehensive. 

You nodded. “Are you?”  

He echoed your gesture, his fingers running along the collar of your own shirt. A question, a request, testing the waters. 

Careful of your still-tender shoulder, you reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it smoothly over your head, then undid your bra and cast it to the side. Cas’s eyes snapped to your chest, interest and a sort of hunger mixing on his face. Hesitantly, slowly, his hand inched up your waist to your ribs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He paused. 

“It’s ok,” you breathed. When he still seemed wary, you reached down and took his hand in your own, guiding it to your breast and giving a gentle squeeze. His breath hitched, his tongue darting out between his lips. 

“I’m…” he broke off, swallowing hard. He shifted, a hard bulge pressing against your thigh. You smiled.

“Hm?” 

“I’m… I’m kind of…” He stopped again, floundering. 

“It’s alright, Cas. You’re alright.” 

He looked up, something close to nervousness dancing across his face. “I haven’t done this before,” he whispered. “I don’t know…” 

Oh. Right. Why hadn’t you thought of that? It made sense, you supposed. Despite Dean’s best efforts, Cas hadn’t picked up the other guy’s… habits, at least not yet. You’d wondered about it briefly before coming to the conclusion that it had to be an angel thing, a choice on his behalf. You knew some people didn’t want that with just anyone, which you could understand. What you couldn’t understand was a world where nobody was interested in Cas, but then again, you might have been biassed. 

You bit your lip. “Do you want to? It’s ok if you don’t.” 

“I do,” he said, his hand still resting on your chest. “I really do, (Y/N). But I don’t know… what to do.” 

“I’ll help you,” you assured him, affection blooming in your gut. And alongside it, an odd sort of pride. Cas was trusting you here, enough to admit he didn’t know what to do. It was more than any guy you’d ever been with had been willing to give away. 

“We’ll go slow,” you continued. “You tell me what you like, what feels good. If you wanna stop, you say so, ok?” 

He nodded. 

You took his face in your hands again, running your fingers over the rough stubbled coating his jaw. “Can I touch you?” 

“Please,” he murmured. 

You trailed your hand down his neck, along his collar bone, over his chest. His skin was soft, smooth. It wasn’t scarred like Dean or Sam’s or your own, and suddenly you wondered if that was somehow a turn off for him. He’d been an angel, immortal, eternal, unblemished even now. If he hadn’t done this before, or even if he had with a normal human, he probably wouldn’t have encountered the kind of skin a hunter such as yourself possessed. Would it bother him? 

Then his chest heaved under your hand, the flesh twitching as your touch crept lower, sideways, up again, mapping the expanse of his torso. He moaned softly as you pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, fingers splayed over his heart. Again, you swept down the centre of his body, all thoughts of your own imperfections dashed from your mind as you revelled in the little hums of pleasure you were coaxing from him. 

Carefully, slowly, you inched lower. You passed his belly button, the light trail of hair that led down from it, finally encountering his belt buckle. You paused, tracing aimless patterns over the skin just above the waistline of his pants, pushing your fingers below the material after a moment. 

“Is this alright?” you asked, watching his face. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted, cheeks flushed. 

“Mhm,” he sighed. “Yes.” 

You smiled. God, he was beautiful. “You wanna take ‘em off?” 

At that, his eyes snapped open, the pupils so wide they almost obscured the blue of his irises. “My pants?” he asked. 

You nodded. “You don’t have to, but…” You ran your hand lightly over the increasingly noticeable bulge you could feel. “I can touch you? Here.” 

He stared. “Do you want to?” 

You gave a little huff of laughter, nodding. “Only if you do. I can keep touching you other places if you want, I can kiss you…” You stopped as he deftly reached down and undid his belt, button and fly in one fluid motion, lifting his hips momentarily and kicking off his pants. It was very fast, impressively smooth. And underneath… 

Your mouth watered at the sight. The outline of his cock straining against his underwear, a small wet patch already forming. You usually didn’t indulge the mantra of “bigger is better”, especially not when it came to penises, but there was no denying that your pussy was already aching at the thought of the stretch Cas’s would cause. Not that it was a behemoth, far from it, but he was certainly well endowed.

His voice snapped you from your reverie, jerking your gaze away from his dick and back to his face. “Is that…” he paused, searching your gaze anxiously. “Is it alright?” 

Your heart melted. “Oh, Cas,” you sighed. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Just perfect.” 

A sound that could only be described as whine slipped from his still kiss-bruised lips, sending a bolt of heat shooting down your spine to pool between your legs. Before the request had formed on your tongue, he shed his underwear too, leaving himself bare to you. 

“Have you touched yourself?” you asked, jerking your gaze from his cock. Fuck, you’d never wanted to lay hands on a dick more in your life. 

Cas looked away for a moment. “No,” he said. “Should I have?” 

You shook your head. “It’s up to you. I’d like to, if you’re ok with it.”

“Touch me?” 

“Mhm.”  

He opened his mouth, closed it again, then nodded.

“Ok.” Dammit, you thought. If this was his first time, you wanted him to feel good. Would he tell you if he didn’t? You thought he would, he was always honest when you asked him to be, and he clearly wanted this. But it was that same want that made you wonder if he’d just keep going no matter what, and you didn’t want that. 

You quickly spat into your hand, stretching up, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Then, on second thoughts, you licked softly at his bottom lip. His breath rushed against your skin, the kiss hot and messy and barely even a kiss at all. It was more you licking into Cas’s mouth, Cas experimenting with his tongue in yours. After a few tries he found a rhythm, soft and supple, gentle and careful. Wonderful. 

It was then that you reached down with your spit-lubed hand, wrapping your fingers around his throbbing length, coating the whole thing with moisture. There was already a little precum beading on the tip, and you used that too, your hand sliding easily. The skin here was smooth too, apart from the thick veins and swell of the head, the slit that you ran your thumb over, causing Cas to moan – really moan – into your mouth.

“Like this?” you murmured, moving your kisses away from his lips, over his stubble-roughed jaw, down to his neck. You sucked gently at the hollow under his jaw bone, hot and wet, leaving a red mark behind. You moved further down, over his jugular, more and more hickeys blossoming in your wake. 

“Ah, (Y/N), yes–” Cas gasped. “Oh, just like that, please.” 

You hummed softly, his breathlessness coupled with the words themselves like fog clouding your mind. All you wanted was more. More of his ragged voice, more of the desperate pleading, more of his hips jerking up into your hand and as your fingers slid smoothly over his cock. Your mouth paused at the base of his throat, made more apparent by the strain in his neck – the Plender gap, you thought it might have been called. You could vaguely picture that word with an arrow pointing to the spot on a medical diagram, although you weren’t sure why – and sucked a particularly dark hickey into the skin there. His collar would cover it in the morning. 

His hand, which had been flitting about your waist, suddenly found its way to your hair. His fingers tangled in it, pulling your head back up so he could kiss you again. You smiled, your own free hand squeezing at his thigh just as you had before. 

He moaned again, deep in the back of his throat, the sound reverberating through your whole body. How had you waited this long? If you’d known it’d be like this, you’d have jumped his bones the second you laid eyes on him. Hell, you’d wanted to. 

“Can I use my mouth?” you asked between kisses – they still weren’t really kisses by any stringent definition, too messy for that. 

“You are, hm, using your mouth,” Cas pointed out. 

You laughed. It was so… matter of fact. “I mean down here,” you explained, giving his dick a gentle squeeze. “I can keep doing this if you want, but…” 

“But?”

“I wanna taste you, Cas,” you smiled. 

His mouth fell open, his cheeks colouring. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was new to this, you supposed. “Taste me?” 

“Mhm,” you nodded, ducking forward to nip at his lip. “Wanna feel you in my mouth, wanna choke on your cock. I’ll make you feel so good, Cas, I promise.” 

“(Y/N).” His voice was even more gravelly than usual, roughened by the raw desire glinting in his eyes. 

“Mhm?” 

“Are you sure?” 

“That’s sweet,” you laughed again. “I’m sure, Cas. Remember you can stop me whenever you want, though, yeah?” 

“Yeah, alright.” 

“Alright?” 

He kissed you again, more gently and with more precision than before, then nodded. “Go ahead.” 

You felt a grin break across your face, your mouth already watering. You didn’t waste time, giving Cas a quick peck on the cheek before sliding off the edge of the bed and kneeling between his legs, your arms resting comfortably on his thighs. You ignored the slight pull of your cut, taking his cock once more in your hand and pumping it gently, once, twice, three times before you lowered your head and kissed the tip. 

Cas’s stomach twitched, his hand going once more to your hair as his breath caught in his throat. 

“Alright?” you asked, your own breath ghosting over the sensitive area, raising goosebumps. 

“Yes,” he sighed. “Keep going?” 

You smiled. “Magic word?” 

“Please,” he practically growled. 

Alright then. You slid your lips over him, relaxing your mouth as you sank as far down his length as you could. What wouldn't fit in your mouth was taken care of by one hand, the other busy holding his hips down. He nearly whined when you moved, bobbing your head back and forth slowly at first, but faster by the minute. 

“Oh,” he panted, “oh, (Y/N), yes–” 

“Good?” you mumbled, but it didn’t come out sounding like the original word at all. Still, Cas seemed to get the point.  

“So good, feels so good. You feel so good, (Y/N), you have no idea.” 

The praise went straight to your panties, pooling with the rest of the hot wetness that had been gathering steadily. You’d wanted to take your time, be as careful and gentle as he’d been with you. But now, breathing in the smell of him, feeling the weight and the heat of him, you were losing your composure. 

“Oh,” he whispered again as you sped up, your hand moving in tandem with your mouth. He dick was slick with your spit and only getting messier, the saltiness of his precum mixing with the lingering sweetness of your lemonade. 

You moaned, the vibrations jolting Cas’s hips despite his best efforts to stay still, as well as your hand attempting to hold him down. You gave a tiny huff of laughter out your nose, lowering your head even further until the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, relaxing completely. 

“(Y/N),” he panted. “(Y/N).” 

“Hm?” You glanced up at him, your eyes watering slightly. He made a sound you’d thought only existed in pornos as his fingers tightened in your hair. 

“You look… ah, so…” He paused, the words choked by another moan as your tongue swirled around his cock. “So beautiful.” 

For the second time, your heart felt like it was melting in your chest. You smiled, your enthusiasm doubling. You were gonna make him cum in your mouth, you were determined. And after that – if he wanted, of course – you’d spread your legs for him and let him fuck you senseless. 

He was close, he was so damn close, cock twitching and fingers clutching desperately at you despite his best attempts to be gentle. “I’m–” He broke off, gasping. “So much, (Y/N), it’s so much.” 

You wondered if you should stop, if you should pull back and ask if he was ok. If he’d never done this before and hadn’t touched himself either, it was unlikely that he’d ever experienced an orgasm. Maybe you should reassure him. You ran your free hand down his thigh, squeezing gently. It’s alright, you tried to say with the gesture, hoping he’d understand. I’ve got you, you’re alright. 

Then he was groaning deeply, his head thrown back and his eyes closed, thighs shaking under you and hot saltiness shooting down your throat. His skin shone with sweat, his chest heaving, his hand gripping your hair so tight it almost – almost – hurt. But it couldn’t have, not when your throat was working to swallow every drop of what he was giving you, not when he looked so beautiful laid out bare above you, not when you could see the pure, raw pleasure painted on his face. 

As gently as you could, you drew back and licked him clean. You rested your head on his thigh, placing a soft kiss there, then drew back and sat, waiting. 

Finally, Cas opened his eyes and looked at you. He took in your swollen lips, the flush you could feel dusting your cheeks, the tears that had leaked from your eyes, the bird’s nest that was your hair. And he smiled, reaching out a hand to help you up. 

“Are you alright?” you asked, settling back on the bed beside him. You took his hands, holding them close to you. “It wasn’t… too much?” 

“It was wonderful,” he said solemnly. Then he looked away. “Can I…”

“Yeah?” you prompted. “Can you…?” 

He turned back, meeting your eyes. “I want to make you feel like that, too.” 

Your stomach did a flip. “Oh.” 

“Will you show me?” Cas’s eyes searched yours, curious and sincere. And how the hell could you say no to him?

You nodded, unbuttoning your pants and casting them off – admittedly with much less grace and efficiency than Cas. After a moment’s hesitation you did the same to your underwear, dropping them carelessly over the edge of the bed. You could hunt for them in the morning. 

He was watching you the whole time, eyes following every movement you made in that way that was so him. You’d been unnerved by it before you’d gotten to know him, but now it just turned you on. 

Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out and ran his hand over your stomach, up, up, up until he reached your breast. He didn’t stop as he had before, his thumb skimming your hard nipple, making you suck in a harsh breath. 

“Is this alright?” he asked. 

You nodded. “Mhm.” 

“What about this?” He slid lower, past your belly button to where your leg joined your hip. It sent tingles running through your whole body. 

“Mhm.” 

“This?” Lower still, over your thigh, along the inside of it, so close to where you wanted him most. 

“Yeah, Cas, you don’t have to ask.” 

“I want you to feel–” 

You stopped him with a kiss, brief and gentle. “Whatever you do is gonna feel great, ok?” 

“But I’m–” 

“Cas.” 

He fell silent when you placed your hand on his face, leaning into your touch. 

“Don’t worry,” you whispered. “I’m gonna help you, remember?”

He nodded, leaning forwards to press his lips against yours. He was getting pretty good at kissing, you noted. Not that he’d been bad when you’d started, but he’d figured out what worked with you. 

“Show me,” he urged, the hand that had been tracing over your leg finding yours. “Show me where to touch you.” 

This is it, you thought as he drew back, watching where his fingers twined with your own. He had officially smashed apart your standards for all men – and former angels – with just six words. You did as he asked, drawing his hand down between your legs to your now practically drenched pussy. 

“Here,” you murmured, a little shock going through you as your fingers brushed your clit. 

Cas’s eyes were wide, the pleasure-haze from his orgasm all but gone now. “Here?” he confirmed, pressing gently at the stiff little bundle of nerves. 

“Yes,” you gasped, your voice much less steady than you’d have liked. 

“Like this?” He slid his finger in a careful circle around it, his eyes never leaving your face. 

“Yes, Cas, just like that.” 

He did it again, then again and again. You sucked a harsh breath through your teeth, your hips twitching involuntarily. 

“Fuck,” you moaned. “Fuck, Cas.” 

“Is this alright?” he asked mildly. 

“More than alright,” you half laughed, half panted. You broke off in another moan as he moved his hand, sliding the tips of his fingers around your hole, his palm pressing against your clit. You briefly wondered if he was doing it deliberately or just experimenting, and if he’d heard something about how to finger girls somewhere. If so, you wanted to know where. But, you thought a moment later, who really cared when it felt so damn good? 

“Can I?” he murmured, watching your face carefully. 

“Yeah,” you nodded frantically. “Yeah, go ahead— please.” The word was torn from you in a way that made colour bloom over Cas’s face as he pushed his finger into you. The heel of his hand was still pressing on your clit, and you ground down on it in a desperate search for friction as he added another finger, your own fingers digging into his shoulders and your breath coming in short gasps. 

“Am I…” he started, then swallowed. “Is this good?” 

“So fucking good,” you replied. “How the fuck are you so good at this?” It was ridiculous, unfair. Most dudes who’d tried had lamely poked at you until you’d given up trying to show them and just moaned loudly, leaving them to grin smugly, convinced they’d made you cum. Cas, however, was well on his way to conjuring the real thing. 

He looked away for a moment, a small satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Good, you thought. He should be satisfied, he was fucking phenomenal. “I’m not sure,” he said. 

It was your turn to smile. “Well you are,” you said simply. Then he moved his hand again and all you could think was fuck, because he really was incredible. He was kissing your neck, sucking at the spot where it met your shoulder, his other hand resting on your hip as you rocked against him, his own soft moans mixing with yours.

And God, you wanted him to fuck you. 

“Hold on,” you panted. Much as his fingers were doing it for you, you couldn’t fight the shiver the thought of his cock buried inside you sent down your spine. 

Cas froze immediately. 

“No, no, it’s ok,” you assured him quickly. “I wanna try something else.” 

“Is this not–” 

“You’re doing great,” you interrupted. “I promise. But…” As before, you slid your hand gently down to palm at the already half-formed erection sitting between his legs. 

Cas frowned.

“Would you like to fuck me?” you asked tentatively. You hated how unsure you sounded, how small. 

His eyebrows shot halfway up his face. 

“Only if you want to,” you added quickly. But from the way his dick had visibly hardened at your words, you guessed he probably did. So, you continued, “I’d like it if you did.” 

Again, his tongue darted out over his lips. His voice was husky when he spoke. “I’d like it too.” 

“Ok, what are we waiting for?” You smiled, shuffling backwards and easing yourself back on the bed. When you saw that Cas wasn’t following, you reached over and took his hand, dragging him down on top of you. “Come on,” you encouraged. 

He gave a little “oof” as he crashed against you, quickly propping himself up above you. It looked uncomfortable. 

“Relax,” you said, wriggling into the mattress and running your hands over his arms and shoulders. “It’s alright.” 

“I don’t want to squash you.” 

You smiled, pulling at him to come closer. “You won’t, don’t worry.” 

“How do you know?” 

“I just do. Besides, I wouldn’t mind.” 

He snorted indignantly. “I would. Then whose lemonade would I steal?” 

You laughed at that. Castiel, former divine soldier of God, joking about stealing your lemonade while he was about to fuck you. If you’d gone back and told yourself from a year ago, she’d have slapped you in the loony bin. “You could just order your own,” you pointed out. 

“I could,” he conceded. “But I will not.” 

“Ok, I don’t mind.” You stretched up, capturing his lips with your own and drawing him down towards you. What you’d said was true, he really didn’t need to worry about squashing you. You liked the warm weight of him, the firmness and certainty that his body pressed against yours brought, his arms caging you to the bed. 

You smiled as his tongue slid along your bottom lip, opening your mouth almost immediately. Yeah, he knew what he was doing now. You hooked your leg over his, pulling his hips hard against your own. You were still tingling, still electrified with want and need from having deprived yourself of his fingers just minutes before, and almost without your conscious awareness you ground against him.

You swallowed the little moan that slipped from his mouth, rubbing your wetness over his hard cock. 

“(Y/N),” he gasped, breaking the kiss, his hips moving in time with yours. 

“Cas,” you echoed, equally as breathless. “Please?” 

He swallowed, his eyes dark. 

“I want you inside me,” you continued. “Please, Cas, I need you inside me. Now.” 

He cursed softly, so softly the only thing you caught was the tone. You wondered what angels cursed by. Not God, surely. But it didn’t matter, because he was taking himself in hand and lining up at your entrance, looking at you for permission. “Here?” he asked. 

You nodded. “Yeah, go ahead.” 

Gently, so gently, he pushed inside you. You gave a little whimper that might have been embarrassing in any other situation at the stretch, the delicious feeling of being filled up completely by him. Cas, on the other hand, didn’t make a sound. He wasn’t even breathing, just staring at the place where your body swallowed his, his eyes wide. 

“Hey,” you said softly, smiling at him when his eyes met yours. “You alright down there?” 

“Yes,” he whispered, running a hand reverently over your stomach. His fingers brushed over your scars, some silver, some a newer pale pink. Your earlier doubts fluttered to the front of your mind, but you determinedly pushed them away. Now was not the time. 

“You can move,” you told him, rocking your hips gently against his by way of demonstration. Then, “Please?” 

He nodded, one hand resting on your hip as he pulled out a little, sliding smoothly back in. He hummed quietly, did it again, then again and again and again, finding his rhythm. It was good, it was as gentle as everything else, firm enough to pull at that special place deep in your belly, steady and decisive. Most of all, it was Cas. Cas fucking you, Cas’s cock sending spasms of heat through your body, Cas’s hand steadying himself and you, Cas’s lovely gravelly voice mumuring your name. 

He leant further over you, bending his head to place a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the cut-free side of your collar bone, following it with another, more forceful one, then more until you were sure you looked like someone had spilt wine over your chest. You supposed it was only fair, given how many love bites you’d showered him with.  

“Shit, Cas,” you whispered, your hand coming up to run over the back of his head, fingers carding through his mussed-up hair. You’d always wanted to fix it, stroke it down, maybe make it worse. When you’d first met him you’d gone so far as to tell him to his face that it was “un-angelic”. He’d been amused by that. 

Now, he groaned against your skin. You smiled to yourself, stroking his scalp again and coaxing another wonderful little moan. You curled your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, lifting your hips off the mattress in time with his thrusts. His breath fanned over your neck, the muscles of his arm taut. 

“I’m so close,” you whispered, and you were. The tightness was building in your stomach, coiling and swirling into a dense knot of pleasure. Every movement Cas made had his pelvis hitting your clit, the bedhead hitting the wall behind it – you briefly felt bad for the next room’s residents – and Cas’s cock hitting deep inside you. The only sounds were the squeaking of the mattress – again, you felt bad – and the wet slap of skin on skin, peppered with your combined moans and sighs. 

“Fuck, Cas,” you gasped, your voice rising in pitch as you spiralled closer, closer… “Oh, shit, fuck, oh my God, Cas, Cas, I’m gonna cum, holy shit I’m gonna– Castiel!” 

You let go, your eyes screwed tightly shut, spine arching off the bed as the bomb inside you exploded. Sparks fizzed through your veins, every muscle in your body clenching as stars speckled your vision and you cried Cas’s name over and over like some kind of mantra. 

He hadn’t stopped, in fact he’d sped up, and when your mind finally crashed back into your body his hips were stuttering, his face buried in your neck. He spilled inside you, hot and thick as it had been in your mouth, a deep groan thrumming through you from where his lips still rested on your chest. He stilled after a moment, still holding most of his weight off you despite your arms wrapped around his back, whispering your name like it was a prayer. 

You wriggled sideways, smiling as he went limp and flopped down beside you. Well, sort of beside you. His head and the better part of his shoulders still rested over your chest, his lips ghosting over you in feather light kisses, his hand running up and down your arm. 

“We should get cleaned up,” you whispered after a moment. 

“Hm?” 

“Clean up,” you repeated. “We’re all sticky.” 

“Oh,” was all he said. Then, “alright then.” 

You extricated yourself, squeezing his shoulder gently as you rose and headed for the bathroom. You debated pulling him into the shower with you, but as your eyes settled on the folded washcloth by the sink you scrapped that idea. This would be quicker and easier, and you were tired, dammit. There’d be other opportunities — at least you hoped there would be. 

You wiped yourself down, turning to find Cas standing in the doorway. The flickering yellow neon strip of illumination above the mirror cast weird shadows over his body, still shining with exertion. Beautiful, even with the medley of hickeys on his neck and the mess of his and your cum around his crotch. 

You beckoned him closer, spongeing away the sweat and other spunk coating his skin. Occasionally you’d look up, without fail meeting his eyes. The usual interest had been replaced with something more; something whole and warm and just for you. The thought made your heart skip a beat. 

When you were finished, you stretched up and kissed him again, just once. Then you took his hand, heading back towards the bed. 

He hesitated, and you turned. He was looking at the couch, indecision marring his face. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked. 

“I assumed you’d want the bed to yourself,” he shrugged. “You usually don’t share”

Oh, ok. “Usually, yeah,” you replied, as casually as you could. “But I wanna share with you.” You looked down at your still joined hands, pulling gently. “Stay?” 

After a moment, he nodded. 

It took longer than it should have to sort out the stupidly layered sheets and blankets, but finally you were both finished wriggling and shifting around, comfortably facing each other. You smiled at him, taking his hand again. 

“I wondered what it would feel like to lie beside you, while you slept. You looked so… at peace.” He leaned forward the few inches between you, his lips cool against your forehead. “Beautiful.” 

Your voice was quieter than you’d meant it to be, and breathier. “You watch me sleep?” 

“It’s hard not to.” It may have been your imagination, but he sounded a little guilty. 

You laughed, leaning forward to whisper, “That’s a little creepy, Cas.” 

“Should I not have?”

“I don’t mind,” you said after a pause, “but maybe try not to mention things like that. Most people would find it weird.” 

“You don’t?”

You shook your head. “Not when it’s you.” The hand that had been holding his was free now, sliding up to cup his face almost of its own volition. You pressed your lips to his, softly and slowly, sweet as syrup. You shifted closer still, draping your arm over him. 

“Because I’m important to you, too?” he asked when you drew back. His eyes searched yours in the dimness, sincere and open. God, he was just… so much. 

You smiled. “Yeah, Cas, you sure are.”

You woke to a hand running over your shoulder, the rise and fall of a chest beneath your cheek and the steady beating of a heart. Cas’s heart, Cas’s chest, Cas’s hand.

“Hi,” you whispered, sitting up. His hand ceased its movements, his lips curling into a gentle smile. 

“Hello.” 

You dipped down, kissing him softly, your finger tracing the outline of his lips when you drew away. “Sleep well?”

He sighed deeply, staring at the ceiling for a moment before his gaze found yours again. “Better than I ever have before. Thank you, (Y/N).” 

“That’s alright.” You looked away, heat rushing to your face. “It was my pleasure.”

“I can see why you – humans – like it so much.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “Hm?” 

“Sex,” he explained. “I think I get it now.” 

“Oh,” you laughed. “Well, that was pretty good sex. For someone who’s never done it before, you were amazing.” 

“Really?” He leaned back, surveying your face carefully. 

You nodded. “And anyway,” you went on, “it usually feels better when it’s someone who’s…” 

He waited, watching you stumble over your words. 

“You know…” You paused, swallowing, half wishing you’d just left it at telling him he was good. “Someone who’s special to you,” you finished lamely. 

“Well,” he said after a moment, “then I’m glad it was you.” 

You didn’t really know how to respond to that, so you just smiled and kissed him again. It was slow and lazy, his bare chest silken under your own, nothing but the soft rush of breath and tiny hum he gave, the rustle of the sheets, the ticking of the motel room clock. Then your phone rang. 

“Fucking hell,” you muttered as you broke away, giving Cas a final apologetic peck before making your way to the table where you’d dumped it. Sam’s name flashed on the screen. 

“What do you want?” you growled. 

“Breakfast,” he answered. “What’s up your ass?” 

“I was sleeping” you answered smoothly, then, “I don’t like being woken up.” 

He snorted. “Yeah, alright. Meet us outside in, say, twenty minutes?” 

You glanced at Cas, who was now sitting up and, you guessed it, watching you. You squished the phone to your chest. “Breakfast in twenty?” you asked. 

He nodded, already swinging his legs over the side of the bed. You couldn’t help staring just a little as he went about getting dressed, drinking in every rapidly disappearing inch of skin like some kind of sexually repressed Victorian maiden. 

“Sure,” you said to Sam, then hung up. The problem that you hadn’t thought through last night was the hickeys. You had a scarf, you could button your shirt over your chest, and thankfully Cas had shown more restraint than you had. The most problematic mark sat right in the hollow under his jaw, two love bites blending together. It wasn’t even hickey-shaped, really, but you didn’t think that’d fool Dean and Sam. 

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, fastening the final button on his shirt. 

“Nothing,” you sighed. “But Dean’s gonna give us endless – and I mean endless – shit.” 

“You’ve killed demons, (Y/N),” he smiled. “And you still can’t deal with Dean’s endless shit?”  

“Oi! I can, I just don’t want to.” You crossed the room, poking him square in the chest. “And you’re gonna be dealing with it too, so don’t get cocky.” 

“We’ll deal with it together.” It was tentative, almost a question. 

You smiled, taking his hands. “Castiel and (Y/N) vs Dean Winchester’s endless shit. I can work with that.”

Things were a little strange over breakfast. Sam and Dean kept glancing at each other, having their annoying silent conversations that consisted of raised eyebrows and side-eyes, the occasional jerk of the head or twist of the mouth. Self consciously, you re-adjusted your scarf, pointedly not meeting anyeone’s eyes. You’d almost made the call not to sit next to Cas, but then he’d looked up at you from his spot by the window and you didn’t stand a chance. You were grateful for your decision when the food came, it made sharing with him a lot easier. 

“Dude,” Sam said suddenly, twisting to face his brother and nearly taking out his glass of water. The eyebrow raising and eye-widening had gotten more intense in the last minute, and clearly they’d hit a boiling point. 

“It’s not a hickey!” Dean protested. “It’s not even hickey-shaped!” 

You froze, fork halfway to your mouth. 

“What?” Cas voiced your thoughts, frowning over the cup of coffee he was nursing. 

Sam sighed. “Cas, look out the window for a second.” 

“Hey–” you started, but you were too late. Both Sam and Dean’s eyebrows shot halfway up their foreheads, and Cas was dutifully peering through the glass. Why did he choose now of all times to listen to Sam? 

“That’s a hickey,” the younger man was claiming triumphantly, nodding to the stain on Cas’s neck. 

Dean whistled softly. “That’s two hickeys. It’s like… a Siamese hickey.” 

“Gross, Dean,” you muttered, ignoring the heat in your cheeks. 

He shrugged. “It’s a beautiful, natural act, (Y/N), lighten up. Congratulations, Cas. Who’s the lucky girl?” 

Sam made a noise like he was choking. You studied your hands on the table in front of you. Dean grinned. Cas didn’t say anything. 

“Was it that waitress?” Dean asked, leaning forwards. “She was cute, man, I’d have tapped that.” 

“No, it wasn’t the waitress.” 

Dean frowned, then his eyes widened. “The hotel receptionist?” he whispered. “Dude, she was a milf. Nice one.” 

“Dean…” Sam started, looking between you and Cas. You glared. 

“What? He deserves a pat on the back. I gotta say, I wasn’t sure if you had it in you.” 

Sam sighed. “I don’t think it was the hotel receptionist.” 

“No? Who else?” 

Again, he glanced at you. You hadn’t moved, stiff as a statue and bracing for impact. You were so close to just spitting it out right there, biting the bullet and getting it over with. But you hadn’t discussed that with Cas, and you couldn’t exactly do so now. 

Dean was looking expectantly at Sam, who was shaking his head in disbelief. You couldn’t blame him. Then, as if in slow motion, Dean’s face fell and realisation dawned in his eyes.  

“No,” he said softly. “No, you didn’t.” 

It was your turn to shrug. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t get a little bit of a kick out of Dean’s absolutely horrified expression. Endless shit that was about to rain down on you and all. 

“You slept together? You,” he looked at you, “and you?” He looked at Cas. 

“Yes,” the former angel said stiffly. “It was nicer than the couch.” 

“No, I mean–” 

You raised a hand, stopping him. “Yes, Dean,” you sighed. “Just… get it out now.” 

“Aw, man.” He groaned, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “That was you guys?” 

“I told you,” Sam shrugged, looking all too smug. 

Cas frowned. “Told him what?” 

“We could hear you,” Dean muttered, his cheeks going a deep red. “I didn’t think we were sharing a wall, Sam did. Drew me a diagram of the motel layout and everything. I didn’t wanna believe it, I didn’t wanna know that… Aw, man!” 

Sam’s smile widened, and he extended a hand across the table. “Pay up.” 

“Pay up?” You glared at him, incredulous. “What the fuck do you mean, pay up?” 

“I mean he owes me fifty. Thanks for that, by the way.” With this, he nodded to Cas. 

You gaped. “Please don’t tell me you bet on me and Cas sleeping together. And please don’t tell me you bet for it.” 

“What can I say? I knew it’d happen eventually, the way you drool over each other. Not my fault Dean actually took me up on it.” 

You groaned, twisting to bury your face in Cas’s trench coat. Absently, he patted your hair. “Why can’t you guys just be normal about one single thing?” you lamented. “Who the hell bets on their friends sleeping together?” 

“Actually,” Dean said through a mouthful of bacon, “it’s a very normal thing to do.” 

“Mhm, back at Stanford–” 

“Back at Stanford,” you mimicked, cutting him off. “I can’t believe you two.” 

Dean held his hands up as if surrendering. “Hey, sorry, but I didn’t think either of you would have the balls to ever make a move. And it was fifty dollars, don’t try to tell me you wouldn’t take that.” 

“I can’t believe I’m gonna have to sit in the car all day with you.” 

“Me too,” Cas added solemnly. 

You sighed, taking his hand under the table and laying it between you, squeezing in full view of Sam and Dean. Cas squeezed back. 

“You’re not allowed to… do anything in the back of my car.” Dean said after a moment. “Especially not with me or Sam there too.” 

Defiantly, you shifted closer to Cas, fingers still entwined with his, firmly meeting Dean’s eyes. “Don’t bet on it.”

#cas x reader #fem!reader #smut #supernatural #castiel #cas #castiel spn #castiel x reader #castiel x you #cas x you #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural smut #spn #shameless smut #castiel smut #pwp fic #friends to lovers #only one bed #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #female reader

[just-j-really]

"I just don't get it," Hob says, for the fifth or sixth or possibly twentieth time that night, glancing over the rim of his cup at Will, who's sitting on the other side of the room, cuddling with his soulmate in an armchair that's really too small for the both of them. "Why everyone's so hung up on soulmates."

It's all anyone's been able to talk about tonight- and sure, that's fair, it is Will and Ann's engagement party, but Hob has overheard the phrases 'oh you're so lucky you found each other so young' and 'why did you wait this long?' far too many times for one night. Will and Ann met as toddlers; they've never had another option and Hob cannot fathom why everyone seems to think that's a good thing.

Case in point, even his little group of Unmatched friends react to his statement with varying degrees of exasperation.

Hob is just sober enough to be aware he should probably shut up, and drunk enough that he keeps talking anyway. "I mean, I've seen 'soulmates'," he says. "My parents were soulmates, both my siblings met theirs, half of my friends are paired off by now. It's not like I don't know how soulmates work. Soulmates are..." he takes a moment, gathers his thoughts, and even though he's not entirely sure what he's about to say, the moment the word leaves his mouth he knows it's exactly right, "Stupid."

His friends laugh uncomfortably. "You're an idiot," Andrew says, not unkindly.

But Hob's on a roll now, an argument that's been simmering in his chest for years spilling out of him, the exhilaration of speaking making the words come easily. "You literally don't have to stay with your soulmate. No one has to! Everyone just goes along with it because everybody else does. But not me. I've made up my mind," he says, setting his cup down and straightening his shoulders. He's been bullshitting a bit but he means this, knows down to his bones that this is something worth staking his life on. "I'm going to meet someone perfect who isn't my soulmate, and I'll marry them instead."

He feels like he should do something solemn to mark this occasion. Stand up on a table, maybe.

Instead, most of his friends laugh at him again. "Hobs, that's the literal definition of your soulmate. Someone who's perfect for you," Gwen points out. The laughter is teasing, and Gwen's tone is more reassuring than anything else, but still, Hob finds himself frustrated.

"But there's so much more out there. So many people to fall in love with," he insists. "Shouldn't I know who's perfect for me better than anyone?"

And his friends tease him for somehow being sappily romantic in his opposition to sappy romance, and he laughs along with them and points out that his perfect person will be more understanding than them, for sure. And he's genuinely a bit hurt, but Gwen bumps his shoulder apologetically and he thinks that destiny has nothing on these friends he's made on purpose, who know him well enough for these unspoken gestures. And there's movement in the corner of his eye.

Hob looks up.

The most gorgeous man alive is standing in front of him. He's tall- probably taller than Hob, even- pale and willowy, with a mess of soft-looking black hair. His eyes are a deep blue Hob didn't think existed in real life until this moment. He looks like the slightly magical prince in a fairy tale got loose in the real world and decided to become a goth. He's perfect.

"Did I hear you say," the man asks, his voice soft and deep all at once, resonant in a way that Hob's never heard before, "you have no intention of meeting your soulmate?"

Not if he's you, Hob thinks, I take it all back if he's you.

Despite what many of his friends will argue, he is capable of not voicing every thought that comes into his head, if only under extreme circumstances, so he offers the stranger his best grin and says, "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"You'll need to tell me how that works out, then," the man replies.

"Don't encourage him!" Andrew calls from the other side of their little cluster.

The man- flinches, just a little. Hob probably wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been staring at him, but Hob's universe just gained a new center, so he is and he does.

"Hey," he says, catching the man's eyes, "Don't mind him, he's just boring. You really want to know how it goes, finding someone who isn't my soulmate?"

"I do," the man says, seriously, like he genuinely thinks Hob's quest is worth his full attention. It leaves Hob feeling warm, almost giddy.

"Perfect," Hob says, and then, because he's never known when to quit, "Let me give you my number, so I can update you?"

The man nods, a teasing little smirk appearing on his face, as though he and Hob already know each other perfectly, and this is a shared, ancient joke between the two of them. His fingers brush Hob's as he passes over his phone.

Nothing happens. There's no spark, no splash of color on Hob's skin marking where this stranger's fingers first dragged over his.

They are, definitively, not soulmates.

And Hob knows for certain that he's right.

[Part Two]

#dreamling #the anti-soulmate au #I'm back on my bullshit everybody! #it's not soulmates but it IS love at first sight #for one of them anyway #my fic #unsoulmates au

[chlorinecake]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐏'𝐒 𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝟐 — a yang jungwon fanfic

Previously ⊱✿⊰

𖤣 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after sharing with Jungwon your true feelings about the way he treats you during a fight, unexpected changes take place as you learn more about him

𖥧 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: abduction themes, swearing, violence, crying, nudity, attempted assault, slow burn, moody, not proofread ~

𖡼 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.3k ~ The next part...

✎ note: In no way does this fanfic intend to romanticize unhealthy relationships or abusive behaviors. I write purely for entertainment and creative purposes. Reader discretion is advised. 

You sat in the bath completely naked before Jungwon. He was still dressed in his work clothes as he hovered over the edge of the tub, lathering an orange scented soap all over your grimy skin.

Jungwon had forgotten you outside in the garden after assaulting you on the picnic mat that day. It wasn’t until a whole 48 hours had passed before he finally came back, only to find a cold and hungry you balled up under a bush. The trembling in your stomach remains as if it was yesterday, even though by now, the incident was more than three days ago.

You didn’t expect Jungwon to apologize for leaving you in the wilderness all that time, as part of you believed it was some sort of punishment for rejecting him. Though, if you were crazy enough, or maybe even smart enough, you probably would’ve tried running away when you had the chance—

“How’s the water,” Jungwon asked softly, using a comb to pick with the remnants of wildlife that decorated your hair, leafy bits falling into the warm rose petal bath.

“It’s lovely, Won-ah,” you replied with a blank expression, “I really don’t mind cleaning myself, though.”

“I insist, love. It’s the least I could do after letting you get so dirty in the first place.”

Oh, so that’s what he’s calling it now.

You watched as a cluster of bubbles swam on the surface of the bath water, reminding you of lily pads before they crashed into your legs, melting at your skin. Jungwon mirrored the bubbles in a lot of ways. At first glance, he seemed bright and friendly, bumping along pink waves that only drew him closer and closer to you. Though, once you finally collided, it’s like he couldn’t help but to absorb the contact.

Devouring you.

“I can tell there’s something on your mind, ____,” he interrupted your daydreaming, using a wash towel to rinse the muggy suds from your hair. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Pop.

The bubbles faded away as if knowing what was about to come.

“I-I don’t… it’s just,” you felt your breath grow unsteady as you struggled to answer him, let alone honestly.

The truth was, you hadn’t gotten much rest over the past few nights as you couldn’t shake the thoughts of what he almost did to you in the garden. You also didn’t want to provoke Jungwon by telling him what was truly on your mind.

Though, like a true predator, he sensed the fear in your silence.

“Why’re so scared of me,” he half-chuckled, putting the towel down before sitting on his knees. “It’s like you think I’m waiting to pounce on you or something.”

“Jungwon—”

“Look. Unless you plan to be honest with me, I’d rather you just keep quiet again.”

“Jungwon—”

“I’m listening, love,” he said, looking into your eyes with an intense gaze.

You were frustrated with his lack of patience yet also by your own hesitance to his curiosity, strangely making you feel guilty. You sunk deeper into the water, folding your arms over your bare chest as an attempt to make yourself feel more comfortable in your nakedness.

You sighed, “I haven’t gotten much sleep over the past few nights.”

He blinked, “____, if this is about the lamp, I’ll put it back in your room—”

“No, Jungwon.”

“When we first met, you told me that you were afraid of the dark. I’m so sorry for overlooking that, love—”

“Won, I didn’t finish what I was gonna say—”

“Do you want me to start sleeping next to you? I really don’t mind! You don’t have to be embarrassed about it either! I’d leap at any chance to get closer to you.”

Jungwon rested a hand on your shoulder which caused you to flinch away from him, clinging to the farther end of the tub. A bit of water splashed from your movements, wetting his clothes and the floor. He scoffed at your behavior, shaking his head in disappointment.

“Do you have any idea how it makes me feel when you jump at my mere touch? Like I’m some fucking monster?”

You stared back at him, chest heaving in regret.

He waited a few moments before getting up abruptly, leaning over the tub and pulling your soaking wet body out.

“Jungwo—” your words were cut short as he forcefully pinned you to the cold ground, your wet hair sprawled all over your frightened features. He ignored the puddles of water that you left on the floor, maintaining his grip on you by caging you between his legs.

Flashbacks resurfaced in the back of your mind. Or maybe this was all just a terrible sense of déjà vu. You wrestled beneath him, knowing good and well that your strength stood feeble against his. Still, it felt better to retaliate than to give in.

“Let go of me, Jungwon,” you fought, earning yourself a slap to the face.

“I’m only gonna give you few seconds to calm me down before I fuck the shit out of you on this bathroom floor.”

You winced at his words at if they cut you physically, still holding in the tears that wanted to spill from the slap.

You tried swallowing the fear that meddled at your core, knowing that when to it came to Jungwon, choosing silence was synonymous with suicide. Suddenly, your fright was replaced with a familiar rage.

“How am I supposed to tell you anything when you’re always seconds away from snapping on me?!” Your voice cracked.

He blinked at your words, “What did you just say?”

“I can’t sleep at night because of you, Jungwon! Why would I be afraid of the dark when what’s hiding in it is way fucking worse,” you swore, not being able to maintain the polite tone you usually spoke with.

He leaned back from your body, confused eyes wondering all over before something clicked in his mind: “You can’t force me to love you. Not like this.”

Immediately, he reached for the large towel that hung over the bathroom sink, draping the material over your shoulders as an attempt to cover you.

The bathroom by now was a dripping mess that he’d have to take care of later, but for now, his focus was on you.

He forced you to sit up, meeting him eye to eye on the damp tiles. He thought about the way you flinched at his touch. The way you tried covering yourself when facing him. The way your lip quivered before you could push out any words.

I am a monster, he thought to himself.

Tears grew in his eyes that mirrored your own red ones. His previously hostile hands rested sweetly in his lap, cautious not to touch you again. His shoulders rose and fell as he tried to calm his sobs, while all you did was sit uncomfortably and watch.

“Unless you plan on apologizing, I’d rather you quit your crying already,” you spat resentfully.

He looked at you with a frown, “Don’t talk to me like that.”

You shook your head at him, “And why not? Huh? Why not, Jungwon? When you can call me anything from your lover to a bitch and still expect me to believe it’s a matter of kindness!”

“____—”

“When every moment we share has to feel like I’m walking on the very egg shells of your erratic emotions!”

“I have to be this way for us—”

“When you threaten to rape me and get upset once I’m disgusted by you—”

Jungwon knocked over the bottles of shampoo that sat on his bathroom shelf, wailing at your words like a baby. Your body tensed at the chaos, ears ringing from the sudden noise. “Fuck, I’m sorry, ____,” he whined in between his frustration, “I am so… fucking… sorry.”

He didn’t bother wiping the tears that fell from his face, as they were gonna keep coming anyways.

“Sorry’s not good enough, Jungwon,” you sniffled, face still burning with emotion.

“Then I promise I’ll never hurt you in that way again. I swear to God, ____, I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to,” he pleaded, his nose and cheeks turning a soft shade of red.

He met you on the ground again, fingers fidgeting as if desperate to touch you again.

“Please say something, love.”

You sighed, “What is there to say, Wonnie?”

He sniffled at your words, hanging his head low with shame, “Fuck, ____, can you let me hug you at least? Can you hold me?”

You froze at his request. It was odd hearing Jungwon of all people ask for your consent, seeking comfort from the very person he constantly took it away from. He looked as if he would crumble if you told him no, so you gave in with a nod, allowing him to fall into your arms.

You ran a hand over his back as you tried soothing his nerves, feeling his hands desperately cling to your naked body as if he were the victim here. It never failed to shock you how his emotions could switch up, going from soft, sinister, to sullen in just a few seconds.

Cradling him granted you a satisfying sense of dominance, finally making him feel shame for the way he treated you, even though it’d only last for the moment.

“You can stop crying now, Jungwon. I’ve already forgiven you.”

That night, you and Jungwon slept in the same bed together, which was a first for the both of you, yet thankfully not as awkward as you thought it’d be. When you woke up, he was sitting at the edge of the bed, holding a steaming cup.

“What’s that?” You asked as the scent of foreign herbs hit your nose.

“I didn’t mean to leave you, but this tea couldn’t wait. It’s a mix of medicinal plants from my garden. It should help you sleep better,” he smiled, scooting closer to you on the bed.

“Drink up!”

“B-but it’s still morning, I can just drink it tonight.”

“It’s not fast acting, ____. You’ll need to drink it a few hours ahead of time in order for it to work,” he said, bringing the porcelain cup to your lips for you to sip.

“There are a few things I need to teach you so you won’t need me as much when I’m away. Besides, I could really use your help around the garden. How’s that sound?” You swallowed, “Don’t you have work today?”

“I got off early, love. I’ll be back with a change of clothes for you and we’ll meet outside,” he smiled again, biting back the urge to kiss you before walking out of the room.

After taking care of your hygiene, you got dressed in the oversized flannel and joggers he gave you, meeting Jungwon outside in the sunny field.

“It’s not morning anymore, is it?” You asked shyly, earning a fit of giggles from him.

“Yeah, no. I was honestly surprised when I came back and you were still sleeping.”

You took in the scenery of green grass and daunting forest frees before he placed a hand at the small of your back, guiding you a few feet further in the pasture. “D'you see that,” he pointed at the sky, sun rays glistening against his honey brown eyes that were still slightly swollen from the night before. “It’s around 6pm. Whenever the sun falls in between the top of that hill and the tallest tree to its left, you’ll know that I’m on my way back from work… or that it’s almost time for dinner,” he chuckled.

You hesitantly reached for his arm to examine the wristwatch he wore, reading the time that read 6:02pm. You always heard about people being able to tell the time from the sky, but you never actually believed it untll now.

“You never told me what you do for work?”

He sighed playfully in response, “So many questions, my love, but the answers will have to wait.”

Your eyes wandered off again before landing on a secluded green house with sage-stained glass trimming the domed ceiling.

“I have just one more question, Jungwon.”

“Mhm, and what’s the catch?”

“That if you answer honestly, I promise not to ask you anything else for the rest of this week.”

“Aww, what a stingy time frame,” he pouted, trying to hold back a smile, “what must you know, love?”

“That green place over there,” you said, pointing in its direction, “I wanna know what that is. If you don't mind sharing...”

You could see Jungwon swallow deeply at your question, placing his hands on his hips before slowly pacing back and forth.

“You promise you won’t ask me anything else if I tell you this,” he asked, meeting your eyes with his own nervous ones.

“Yes, Jungwon, I promise.”

He took a deep breath before speaking, “I’ll start with saying that it’s forbidden. Though, it’s where I keep the more…precious of my belongings. And exotic plants, too, like the ones I put in your tea.”

“Why is it forbidden—”

“Nuh-uh, no more questions, love," he interrupted, taking your hand in his before heading back to the cabin. "I'll take you to the kitchen where I keep my first aid supplies. It'll come in handy if you ever injure yourself while I'm gone."

You were still feeling relatively sleepy after just getting up, but you knew it'd benefit you later if you payed attention to his teachings.

"I know how to use a band-aid, Jungwon," you joked, skipping behind him with lazy steps.

“Well, in that case, we can skip this lesson," he said, letting go of your hand before rushing inside. Only a few seconds passed before he ran back out with a shotgun in his hand.

"I'm sure you'll want a tutorial for this one."

☆ Special thanks to @guessm0del for requesting a continuation of this piece! I'm honestly not too proud of this one, but hey, I tried! Hopefully it’ll come together better if y’all want a part 3...

☆ taglist: @fanficfactoryfoxxx @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @03sunoos @kaykay11sworld @gigiramirezsblog @hoonsyo @en-thralled  @night-en-shining-armor @cutiejseong @j-wyoung @rickysblkgf @bambangan @wonbyf @4imhry @zhangyi-johee @naddii  @valhrts @lisaaannna @lovelycassy @addictedtohobi @gardenwons @nikipedia07@tubatusoobs @03sunoos @clarisabutterfliescupcake @yevene @heecries @rosiemiayyxy @jungwonieee @edgykoo @luvmlkw @idkhoomanmaybe @sunsinmyskies

#enhypen #enhypen ff #jungwon x reader #yang jungwon #jungwon ff #yandere jungwon #yandere enhypen #enhypen angst #jungwon angst #jungwon suggestive #yandere enha #enha scenarios #enha x reader #dark kpop #enhypen layouts #jungwon

[peachdues]

Seasons in Love (modern college AU: Part 1/2)

Sanemi meets Y/N in January and isn't a fan. As the seasons pass by, their evolving relationship becomes defined by a handful snapshots from the various holidays throughout the year.

A/N: part 1/2 of my college-AU fic to fulfill @shiverisms request for tooth-rotting Sanemi fluff. Part 1 covers January, the Spring and Summer festivals, Halloween and the week leading into finals in December. Part 2 will cover Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve. This is unlike anything I’ve really written before, so sorry if it drags!!

CW: swearing, some suggestive stuff but nothing too bad. College-typical drinking and debauchery.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

January 2nd – first day of the spring semester

Sanemi Shinazugawa hated many things. He hated the cold, because wearing too many layers made him feel like he was suffocating. He hated when the store was out of his favorite brand of dried seaweed. He hated whenever he saw that asshole, Douma, simpering his way across campus with a gaggle of unwitting freshmen trailing helplessly behind him.

But most of all, he hated change.

So, when Shinobu brought along a new face to their first family dinner of the new year, he’s not happy.

And initially, he felt vindicated by his reticence to welcome her as warmly into their friend group as some of the others, because, despite his friends’ kindness, she’d failed to even muster a grateful smile for her hosts.

Not once, during the entire affair, did the girl – Y/N -- so much as twitch her lips upwards; not when she met any of his friends, and certainly not at any of the jokes or fun they’d had.

It’s not that she’d been sullen and withdrawn — she’d participated in conversation just fine. But that bland stoicism on her face had really gotten under his skin, because it reminds him of Giyuu, and they’ve already got one of those.

Sanemi told Shinobu as much later that night as he kicked back in her worn, mismatched kitchen chair while the pharmacology student idly flipped through her biochemistry textbook.

“I’ll ignore the dig at Giyuu for now,” Shinobu said lightly, though her eyes flickered briefly up to his in warning, “but I would think you of all people would have a bit of compassion toward her, Sanemi.”

Sanemi reached out to snatch an apple from the little fruit bowl that Shinobu has on her kitchen table, taking a crude chomp out of it. “Why?” He asked, voice garbled by his thick mouthful.

Shinobu shot him a fleeting look of disgust at his lack of etiquette. “Do you remember that girl I was paired with in my mental health law seminar last semester? The one who dropped out of our final project last minute?”

Sanemi swallowed his mouthful of apple. “Yeah. You were pissed.”

And she had been. Shinobu had been stuck with doing the other half of an entire presentation just two days before it was due, and it had been on statutory interpretation which had not been Shinobu’s strongest area.

Shinobu’s scowled. “That’s because I didn’t know the reason,” she reached for a highlighter to mark text on the page open before her.

“Her little brother died. Cancer. He was only eleven.”

In one breath, all his prior irritation with the girl’s presence is extinguished within him.

Now, Sanemi felt like an asshole.

Because if anyone understood what it felt like to lose a loved one — especially one as young as eleven — it would’ve been him.

“Fuck,” Sanemi exhaled, apple falling to the table, forgotten. Absentmindedly, he reached his hand to rub at his chest, just over the jagged scar beneath his shirt that was one of the many souvenirs from the car wreck that had managed to kill everyone in his family but him.

That had been nine years ago — when Sanemi had barely been twelve.

He certainly hadn’t felt like smiling much after that, either. Truthfully, he’d probably be in far worse shape now had it not been for the people clustered in Shinobu’s and Mitsuri’s tiny apartment.

“She also got cheated on last semester,” Shinobu added after a moment.

Sanemi sighed heavily, feeling even worse. The poor girl had gone through what was arguably the worst semester, and he’d chapped her ass over not smiling.

“I didn’t know that — by who?” Tengen emerged from the adjacent living room, breezing by the table and into the kitchen to help himself to whatever was in the girls’ fridge.

Shinobu’s eyes hardened. “Douma,” her tone was poisonous.

Both Sanemi and Tengen groaned in unison.

“She deserves financial compensation for that one,” Sanemi muttered darkly, motioning for Tengen to toss him a beer. The sleazy, lazy, and arrogant student body President had earned the reputation of being a serial cheater around campus. Shinobu briefly had a fling with him their first year that she’d ended after only a few weeks, once it became all too clear that he was a master manipulator.

And, as Shinobu had referred to him, an utter man-whore.

Tengen padded out from the kitchen, beers in hand. “That explains why she doesn’t really have a friend group anymore, then.” He quipped, handing the extra beer to Sanemi before plopping down next to him at the table.

Shinobu hummed in agreement, hand seamlessly moving across the glossy page of her textbook as she made a small, precise note. “You know how Douma is — first he fucks you, and then he fucks you.”

Sanemi snorted, shaking his head. “So that’s why you feel so protective of her, huh?” He nudged her with his elbow. “You know what she’s going through.”

Shinobu shrugged him off. “Maybe; but so do you.” She said pointedly, hand flipping her textbook shut. “So maybe just try to be nice?”

“When the fuck am I not nice?” Sanemi demanded indignantly, and Shinobu shot him such a pitiful look that he felt his cheeks heat.

Tengen just laughed. “I think the real question is when are you ever?”

Sanemi glared at his loud-mouthed friend, but before he could respond with a snappy retort, Shinobu spoke.

“I’m not saying you have to be a saint, but I want Y/N to feel like she at least has some support here,” her tone was light but it carried that signature soft threat she used whenever she meant business. “so promise me you’ll at least try to get to know her.”

Sanemi groaned but acquiesced. “All right, all right,” he’d muttered, reaching back for his earlier-discarded apple. “I promise.”

------------------------------------------------------

March 23rd – Spring Festival

As winter melted way into spring and the cherry blossom buds had begun to bloom, so did Sanemi’s friendship with Y/N.

He promised Shinobu that he would try to make the girl feel part of their group, and Sanemi is a man true to his word – but in retrospect, he hadn’t expected it to be this easy to become friends with her.

It started when they realized they shared three out of their four classes together. Sanemi walked into his first seminar at the crack-ass of eight in the morning on the first day of spring classes when he’d spotted her sitting in the second row from the front. Sanemi didn’t like most of the other people in his class, so sitting beside her had seemed like a no-brainer.

It had been the best decision he could have made. Y/N was smart as a whip, and often went toe-to-toe with the self-professed “devil’s advocates” during class discussions, managing to weave in Shakespearean insults while simultaneously ripping apart their inane arguments.

Soon, they began to meet up for study sessions at Mitsuri and Shinobu’s apartment, as Y/N had also become incredibly close with the two girls. Sanemi began to find himself at the girls’ apartment far more than he was at his own. In March, he discovered they had precisely the same tastes in music; within a day she had sent him several specially-curated playlists that featured bands similar to his favorite artists.

By the end of March, Y/N had announced her plan to move in with Mitsuri and Shinobu.

It wouldn’t happen until the end of the semester, when Y/N’s solitary lease ended, but she’d planned to move in right before she spent a month at home with her family – which also marked the first time she’d return home since her brother had died.

Sanemi wasn’t surprised at how quickly Y/N had bonded with his other female friends; she had a sharp, dry wit that matched perfectly with Shinobu’s lofty, passive-aggressive attitude, yet also seemed to find delight in spending time with Mitsuri, with whom she’d rapidly become attached to at the hip. Part of Sanemi had hoped that her friendship with the two women would lighten the shadows that crossed her face every so often, and that maybe she would finally crack a smile.

It wasn’t as if Y/N wasn’t expressive – she was, particularly around her eyes. More often than not, she was scowling at him or rolling her eyes at his barbs, but there had been a few occasions when he’d thought that he’d caught something softer as she looked at him. Other times, he saw an amused twinkle in her eye whenever Mitsuri challenged Tengen to an arm-wrestling contest, as though she were on the precipice of laughter, though none ever came.

Shinobu had suggested Y/N’s failure to smile was just a way of her processing her trauma and grief, and that she was doing everything she could to cope. Sanemi had not yet broached the subject with Y/N, not wanting her to feel compelled to open up wounds she was trying so hard to stitch together, but he worried that she wasn’t getting the support she needed.

Near the end of the semester, Y/N had become slightly more irritable, constantly jiggling a foot whenever she sat down, or wringing her hands in her lap whenever she was in deep thought.

Sanemi had agreed to study with her for their last final, but was on his last nerve as she continuously clicked her pen, each press of her thumb against the cap harder than the last.

“You have to stop.” He finally snapped, throwing his own pen down on his notebook before him to glare at her. “I can’t hear myself think.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise at his outburst before lowering, her arms folding insecurely in front of her chest.

“Sorry,” she murmured, her foot beginning to twitch beneath the table.

Sanemi sighed and slammed his book shut, folding his hands under his chin as he braced his elbows on the table. “All right, out with it; what’s got ya all bent out of shape?”

Y/N didn’t meet his eyes, instead toying idly with the ends of her hair. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Sanemi rolled his eyes and huffed. “You’ve been squirming nonstop for the last two weeks, and it’s only gotten worse,” he nodded pointedly at the way she kept twisting and untwisting a lock of her dark, silky hair around her index finger. “Somethin’s bothering you.”

Y/N remained quiet for a moment, but contemplative, weighing out the risks and the rewards of opening up to the scowling man sitting across from her.

“I haven’t been home since – since he died,” She began, shifting slightly in her seat. “And I’ve felt really closed off from my parents ever since the funeral. We haven’t talked much at all.” She bit her lip, staring intently at the wooden grain of the table. “I guess I’m just anxious about going back.”

Sanemi clicked his tongue. “I gotta say, I don’t envy you right now,”

“Thanks.” Y/N interjected coolly, but Sanemi held a hand up to quiet her.

“I mean, that car wreck just killed my whole family, so I didn’t have to deal with anyone else’s grief but my own,” Sanemi continued, and Y/N fell silent. “I can’t imagine having to deal with someone else’s.”

Y/N’s hand had fallen from her hair to the table, and it twitched toward him. She hestitated for a moment before finally reaching over and placing her small hand on Sanemi’s broad, scarred forearm.

“Sanemi, I had no idea,” she said, softly. “I’m so sorry.”

Sanemi surprised himself by not immediately shrugging off her touch, but he found it hard to meet her eyes. Most people looked at him with pity, and he’d long since lost the ability to stomach it.

Y/N slowly pulled her hand back from his arm, moving to wipe furiously at her eyes.

“Ah hell, I didn’t mean to make ya cry-“ Sanemi said, cursing himself for trudging up what had to be painful memories.

She shook her head furiously. “No, it’s not that,” she batted the tears from her eyes before meeting his gaze head-on. “I’ve just felt so…alone these last few months. Like I was drowning in my grief.”

Sanemi felt something within him stir at the intensity of her stare, something warm and comforting spreading through his chest. “But you’re not,” he said with equal quiet, offering her a small smile. “It’s the worst club to be a part of – the dead family club – but it’s nice knowin’ someone else in it.”

Y/N nodded, and Sanemi could swear he saw something like a ghost of a smile on her face, but it was gone as soon as it came.

“If things at home get too hard to deal with this summer,” Sanemi said after a pause, “just call me. Any time.”

And damn him if he didn’t feel like he could soar at the look of hope in her eyes.

--------------------------------------------------------

July 15th – Mid-Summer Festival

Summer had passed by slowly and lazy in the blazing heat.

Sanemi had spent the majority of their break at the Rengoku family lakehouse, working alongside his best friend as a lifeguard at the local swim club. When he wasn’t shouting at kids for being walking lawsuits as they ran alongside the pool and drinking cheap beer with Kyojuro, he had been texting Y/N – outside of their active group chat.

It was insane to him that she’d become as close with him as he was to Kyojuro. Sanemi had found her so easy to talk to, even over the phone, and eagerly checked for her messages the moment he awoke and the moment before he fell asleep. Once or twice, Kyojuro had even grumbled that Sanemi rarely texted the group chat back but seemed to have no trouble responding to one of Y/N’s many memes or song recommendations.

But now, the whole gang had reunited for a holiday weekend at the Rengoku lakehouse to celebrate the mid-summer festival with a cookout and fireworks.

Translation: they’d all come to get absolutely plastered while enjoying some fun in the picturesque water surrounding the generous estate.

It was day two of the festival weekend, and six of them were in the water, locked in a fierce battle of chicken. Y/N was perched on Sanemi’s shoulders as she wrestled Mitsuri, who was close to strangling a sputtering Kyojuro with her thighs as she desperately tried to remain upright. So far, he and Y/N had knocked out the other pair — Shinobu and Giyuu -- and were vying for the title of Chicken Champions.

Sanemi wouldn’t lie that he’d initially felt a bit smug over how Y/N had darted forward to grab his arm when Mitsuri announced the need to partner up. He’d thought it was because of his strength — he knew he was jacked, and he assumed that she had (correctly) concluded that she stood the best chance of winning if she climbed atop his shoulders.

“I won’t let you fall, princess.” He’d crooned, winking at her. She’d rolled her eyes at the use of his nickname for her, and he’d puffed his chest out, feeling a cocky sense of pride.

As it turned out, he’d been dead fucking wrong. Y/N hadn’t chosen him because he’d looked the strongest.

No. She’d chosen him because he was the only one she could get away with outright abusing in her ruthless play for the championship.

“Left, left, left!” She screeched, fingers snaring in his hair to wrench him harshly to the side, her heels digging sharply into his abdomen beneath the water as she desperately tried to steer him away from Mitsuri’s incoming flailing limbs.

Somehow, despite the searing pain in his scalp and the spray of lake water in his eyes, Sanemi had managed to follow her directions and the pair managed to narrowly avoid catastrophe. But Y/N wasn’t finished, as she tightened her shapely thighs around Sanemi’s neck to twist him back so she could lunge for the pinkette now unsteady atop of Kyojuro.

Sanemi had never been more grateful that the water covered him from the waist-down, as Y/N’s thighs clenched around his head once more as she shoved at her best friend with all her might.

Mitsuri had been too unbalanced to resist Y/N’s attack, and she finally toppled off Kyojuro’s shoulders and splashed into the water.

“Chicken Champs!” Tengen declared from the shoreline where he had been refereeing, more interested in working in a tan than he had been in getting in the water.

“I knew we’d win.” Y/N sniffed, tapping Sanemi’s head lightly. “I didn’t scalp you, did I?”

But Sanemi couldn’t answer because he was fighting a losing battle to conceal the growing bulge in his trunks, fearful that if any of his friends saw, they’d never let him live it down.

He’d known he was in trouble when she’d first emerged from the girls’ room in that tiny red bikini. For the last three hours, he’d been constantly reminding himself that she was his best friend and was therefore off-limits every time he’d caught his eyes lingering a second too long on her exposed skin and that he valued their friendship above all else.

But those rationalities were getting harder to remember the longer he felt her legs dangling over his chest, and his self-control was rapidly slipping.

So, upon Tengen declaring their victory, Sanemi did the only thing he could think of to escape his predicament— he slid his hands under her knees and dumped her into the water behind him, Y/N squeaking as she fell.

By the time Y/N’s head breached the surface of the lake, her eyes blazing and ready to fight, Sanemi had already been halfway back to the lake house, with nothing but a cold shower on his mind.

-------------------------------------------------------

Later that night, once everyone was thoroughly shit-faced and Kyojuro and Tengen were itching to light the fireworks, Y/N was nowhere to be found. Sanemi broke away from the group, heading towards the boat dock just down a grassy hill when he’d spotted her sitting on the edge of the pier. She was leaning against one of the posts, legs dangling into the water below as she gazed up at the brilliant expanse of stars twinkling in the night sky.

“It’s about time to watch a bunch of drunk assholes blow shit up.” He said, crouching down to sit beside her.

Y/N merely turned her head toward him before looking away again, remaining quiet. Her eyes were clouded and wistful as she peered up at the sky, her lower lip wobbling slightly.

In moments like these, Sanemi had learned the best thing he could do was stay silent. If she wanted to talk, she would, but sometimes, she just wanted him near.

The two were quiet for a moment, the only sounds being the slow lap of the lake water as it broke against the wooden pier, and the distant echoes of laughter as Kyo and Tengen drunkenly tried to set up the firework display.

“It’s been eight months since he died,” Y/N broke the silence, her voice soft. “And I hadn’t even realized. I was so swept up in having fun that I forgot about him for a moment.” She looked down at her lap, fingers twisting nervously together. “I must be awful.”

Sanemi shook his head, his hand itching to reach out and pat her back, to offer her comfort, but it remained still on the wood beneath him. “Nah. Not awful.” He lifts his gaze up to the stars twinkling above them, the mid-summer night sky resplendent with light. “It’s shitty to say, but sometimes you’ve gotta remember that you’re still livin’— even if they’re not.”

Y/N snorted, bringing a hand up to wipe at the tears that had begun to cling to her eyelashes. “That’s a harsh way of putting it.”

Sanemi grimaced, resenting how poor he could be with words. “I meant that he wouldn’t want you to keep yourself from living just because of him.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “What brought it on, anyways? I mean, what reminded you?”

Y/N leaned her head back against the worn post of the pier, chewing on her lower lip in thought. “I guess when Kyo mentioned it was almost time for fireworks. My brother loved the summer festivals, but he really loved the fireworks.” Y/N’s eyes slid shut momentarily as she reminisced, echoes of vibrant colors and the sounds of her brother’s laughter echoing in the corners of her mind. “He’d beg my parents to stay up past his bedtime to watch them. They used to tell him ‘No,’ but he kept sneaking out to watch them anyways. They eventually just gave in.”

Y/N paused, as she wove the connection between the memory in her head with the heaving feeling in her heart. “I guess that’s why I came down here.” She shrugged, as though to deflect the pain and loneliness that curled her shoulders forward, that still lurked in the shadows beneath her eyes. “Didn’t wanna drag the group down, you know?”

Sanemi looked back to Y/N, so beautiful beneath the starlight, so kind, and so very sad.

“I don’t think anyone would think you’re bein’ a drag,” Sanemi murmured. “But tell ya what — if you’re ever feeling down again while we’re all together, how about you give me a signal and we can dip out together ‘til you feel better?”

Y/N sniffed eyeing him incredulously. “A signal?”

Sanemi nodded. “Yeah, like — I dunno — a code word or something?”

Y/N pursed her lips as she looked back over the still water of the inky lake, considering.

“How about ‘chicken?’ In honor of our win today?” She said after a moment.

Sanemi grinned. “Perfect.”

The telling whizz and whirr of fireworks being launched into the sky cut Y/N off before she could reply. With a resounding boom! the night sky filled with bright streaks of red, white, pink, and yellow. Between the pulsing claps of the thunder of the fireworks, Y/N and Sanemi could hear the distant whoops and hollers of their friends.

Y/N’s eyes were locked on the dazzling display of fire and spark above them, a mixture of sadness and wonder glistening within them.

Later that night, just as Sanemi had been on the precipice of sleep, he’d realized he had not seen a single firework that his friends had launched in celebration of the summer festival.

Because while Y/N’s eyes had been fixed on the beautiful show of color in the night sky, Sanemi had not been able to look at anything else but her.

--------------------------------------------------------

October 31st -- Halloween

“Stop moving your face,” Y/N said exasperatedly to the scowling, white-haired man sitting before her. “You’re going to mess me up.”

Sanemi wanted to crack an eye to glare at her, but he feared she might stick one of her makeup brushes in his eye socket if he did. Instead, Sanemi clenched his jaw, fists balling in his lap.

“You’re taking for-fuckin’-ever,” he muttered, wincing slightly as Y/N dabbed a cold, gel-like substance against his cheek.

“I’m not the one who picked the most high-maintenance costume out of our entire group,” Y/N scoffs, pulling away from Sanemi to blend together a mixture of red, brown, and gray face paint to apply on the fake wound she has created along Sanemi’s sharp cheekbone.  “I mean seriously, a wolf demon? Why not just go as a regular werewolf?”

It is Halloween and Sanemi regrets ever agreeing to a group costume theme.

It had all started when Shinobu, Mitsuri, and Y/N had come to their weekly family dinner a month prior with wicked gleams in their eyes. They had waited until everyone else had been seated before Shinobu announced that not only had she gotten all their names down on an invite list for an exclusive Halloween party at the Wisteria House the following month, but they would all be dressing up as part of a group theme.

Tengen, Kyojuro, and Gyomei had each expressed excitement while Giyuu, Obanai, and Sanemi had remained silent, though the latter only did so because he was too busy gaping at the girls, his mouth full of food.

“Tell me you three’ve already figured out the theme,” Tengen had said, his magenta eyes alight with excitement. “I want to be the flashiest group in that fucker.”

Mitsuri’s smile had only grown wider. “Mythical monsters - specifically demons!”

Sanemi’s groan had been cut off by a sharp kick under the table from Y/N, who was glowering at him threateningly. One look from her, and he’d known arguing would be pointless.

And that was how Sanemi had found himself now, on Halloween night, sitting stiffly on the worn-out ottoman in the girls’ apartment while Y/N smeared liquid latex across his cheeks to create the fake appearance of claw marks.

Mitsuri was on the other side of Y/N, painting fake slits on either side of Obanai’s mouth to give him a more snake-like appearance to suit his Snake Demon attire. The moment Sanemi had seen Y/N’s hands free up after she had put the finishing touches on Shinobu’s Butterfly Demon makeup, he’d nearly toppled over the coffee table to claim her before Kyojuro could sit down and occupy her time.

Truthfully, Sanemi had just wanted the chance to be near her. She was already decked out in her full Spider demon costume; her face painted a ghostly shade of white and accented by red circles meant to mimic the appearance of spider eyes. Sanemi, however, had miscalculated one crucial detail in his haste to be the only one of the men that she touched to do their makeup — how skimpy her costume would be.

Y/N was clad in a thin, white wrap dress that cut short just above her mid-thigh. The dress, though sleeved, also boasted a deep v-neck, and Sanemi was avidly trying to avoid staring at her exposed cleavage, which had also been painted and dusted with a shimmering powder. Her legs were bare, covered in the same glitter as the rest of her skin, and she was already teetering around in heels that Sanemi knew damn well would not stay on her feet longer than an hour.

In fairness, Y/N’s costume wasn’t nearly as skimpy as her pink-haired friend’s. Mitsuri insisted she was going as a cat demon, but Sanemi failed to see the correlation between the black unitard with the plunging neckline and anything remotely feline.

Y/N’s fingers brushed against his cheeks as she dabbed a mixture of paint to create the appearance of blood and Sanemi wills them not to heat under her touch. The task is nearly impossible, however, because he felt like he was being electrocuted every time she brushes against him. That feeling was only accentuated every time she moved to lean over him and pick up yet another beauty tool, the sweet honey of her perfume more intoxicating than the shots Tengen had made them pound earlier.

Sanemi was so lost in thought as he reveled beneath Y/N’s heavenly touch that he failed to notice her step back, eyes scrutinizing his face as she considered her handiwork. Sanemi cracked an eye open and watched her nod in satisfaction, finally dropping her makeup brushes on the side table.

“You’re done.” She said, tapping his shoulder to motion him to stand. Y/N thrusted a tiny makeup mirror in his hand so he could inspect.

She’d turned his existing facial scars into fake, bloodied, fresh ones, but elongated them to give the appearance of claw marks. She added an additional vertical scar that extended from above his right eyebrow to nearly his cheek. All in all, Sanemi thought he looked -

“Scary!” Mitsuri exclaimed, eyes widening softly. “He’s sure on theme — he’ll terrify people!”

Y/N clicked her tongue in disagreement. “No, I don’t think he looks scary,” she tilted her head in thought, Sanemi feeling slightly embarrassed as the two girls continued to look him over.

“I think he looks…,” Y/N paused, her eyebrow quirking up suggestively as her eyes lit up, dancing with a challenge. “Feral.”

Sanemi grinned at her, purposefully bearing his teeth in an effort to look as wolf-like as possible.

Tengen came back into the living room from where he and Kyo were doing shots and winked at his silver-haired friend. “You’ll still be able to pick up girls looking like that, Shinazugawa.”

Sanemi doesn’t know why, but the comment irritated him, and he turned away from the group to hide his reddening face.

He doesn’t see the way Y/N’s eyebrows furrow at the comment.

--------------------------------------------------------

It was two in the morning, and they are all utterly inebriated.

The Wisteria House — an exclusive club that Shinobu had only been able to get them into because of her connections to one of its proprietors — had been pulsing with music and lights as throngs of costumed revelers had ground to the thunderous beat of the music.

The group of them had thrived beneath the black light of the club dance floor, getting drunk on endless rounds of shots and mixed drinks that kept flowing from the bar like a waterfall of spirits.

But now, it was after two in the fucking morning, and somehow Sanemi had been stuck with corralling not one, but two drunk assholes back into their apartment despite being intoxicated himself.

The two assholes in question were also arguably the biggest lightweights out of all their friends — Mitsuri and Y/N.

Six of them had agreed to call an Uber to take them all back home to their apartments, but Kyojuro had gotten the whole group kicked out after he’d thrown up all over the driver’s pristine leather seats.

The blonde had been nearly unconscious when Tengen and Giyuu dragged him out the side of the car, and neither of them could stand to haul their blacked-out friend back to the boys’ apartment by themselves. But someone had to stay back to walk the two drunk girls back to their apartment because none of them were stupid enough to risk letting the girls walk by themselves - which was how Sanemi found himself in the position of the official babysitter of the two, shit-faced girls who stumbled along the pavement next to him.

“Kanroji — no, god dammit, st-op tryin’ to run,” Sanemi growled, his words a little slurred as he lunged to grab onto the pinkette’s arm as she tried yet again to take off into the night, giggling about how she wanted to run and feel free.

Mitsuri began wailing because Sanemi is a big meanie, but she shuffled along beside him in resigned obedience. Sanemi bit down on the litany of curses threatening to spill from his lips as he whipped around to lay eyes on the other girl he’d been charged with escorting safely home.

Y/N was limping along, about ten feet behind her friends, her legs quivering from exhaustion thanks to those fucking heels she’d insisted on wearing. How she’d managed to remain upright and not snap both her ankles was a mystery to Sanemi, but right then, he was annoyed and wanted nothing more than to slump home and pass out in his own bed.

“Y/N!” He barked behind him, the girl’s face blearily looking up in alarm. “March!”

“‘Nemiiii,” she whined, stumbling slightly as her balance shook. “I can’t — hiccup — go any faster.”

Sanemi ground his teeth. “Try harder.”

Y/N managed to flip him off before stumbling again. “Mitsuri’s right, you are a meanie.”

Sanemi had had it; it was nearly three in the goddamn morning, and somehow the man with the least amount of patience had been stuck with the two drunkest shitheads in his circle of friends, and those shitheads were keeping him from embracing the sweet oblivion of drunken sleep.

So, he snapped.

Hand still wrapped firmly around Mitsuri’s forearm, he stomped back to Y/N, tugging his other friend helplessly along behind him. Standing before her, Sanemi crouched and turned to glare up at his swaying best friend.

“Climb on. I ain’t arguing.” He ordered, and to her credit, Y/N complied, looping her arms across Sanemi’s sternum and locking her legs around his waist. He thinks she would have put up more of a fight had her feet not been about to fall off.

“No fair! I wanna be carried!” Mitsuri whined, tugging at his arm.

Sanemi just trudged along, relief flooding him as the girls’ tiny apartment comes into view. “You know how to walk in heels, Kanroji. She doesn’t.” He jerked his head back to the half-unconscious girl clinging to his back.

By some miracle, Sanemi and the girls finally arrived at the apartment, and Mitsuri was at least coordinated enough to fumble for her key to unlock the front door.

Once inside, Sanemi kicked the door shut behind him, and Mitsuri broke free from his hold, half-sprinting into the kitchen to chug some water.  Sanemi readjusted his grip on Y/N’s legs and moved towards her closed bedroom door, ready to dump her on her bed and go the fuck home.

“We made it!” Y/N’s sleepy voice murmured in his ear. Sanemi grunted in response, moving to deposit her on the soft down of her mattress when he felt her lurch forward on his back.

He was about to snap at her for being difficult when he felt the sloppy press of a soft pair of lips against his ear.

“Thanks, ‘Nemi.” Y/N said sleepily, falling off his back in an unceremonious heap on her bed. She sunk into the ridiculous array of pillows and blankets she insisted on piling onto her mattress.

Sanemi realized she’d been aiming for his cheek, but had missed in her drunken stupor. Nonetheless, his ear burned where her mouth had been, and he felt slightly hot under the collar of his flannel shirt.

“Drink some water so you’re not violently hungover tomorrow, idiot.” Was all he said as he moved to leave her room and finally, finally, return to his apartment.

“‘M-Kay. Love you.” Y/N slurred, and Sanemi froze. “Love my ‘Nemi. You’re my bestest friend in the world.”

Sanemi’s heart thumped wildly in his ears, though the slight lead of disappointment sunk in his gut. She loved him like a brother, of course — not as anything — as anything more than that.

Sanemi moved to exit the apartment, checking to ensure Kanroji hadn’t fallen asleep on her back, and pausing only to place a trash can next to where she was passed out on the couch. He softly closed the door behind him and began to make his way back to the apartment he shared with Kyojuro and Tengen.

Sanemi’s feet stumbled slightly on his journey as his mind reeled. His ear still burned from Y/N’s kiss, and her words echoed and clanged around in his head until he could hear nothing else.

Somehow, Sanemi ends up in his bed, sleep rapidly creeping up on him as his eyelids grow heavy. In his haze, he thought about how, despite being in a club surrounded by her friends and drunk off her ass, she’d still failed to smile even once.

As he drifted off, he thought about how empty and cold he felt now that he is no longer bearing Y/N’s warm weight on his back. Though he’d only been carrying her, she had felt indescribably good in his arms, and Sanemi cannot think of much he wouldn’t do to be touched by her again.

--------------------------------------------------------

December – one week before finals.

A snowstorm had blown through their city that afternoon.

Though, perhaps “snowstorm” was too light of a description; in a matter of hours, an outright blizzard had dumped nearly three feet of snow across town and had utterly and thoroughly fucked the roads. The university had no option but to cancel classes through at least the end of the week.

Sanemi had looked forward to a night in, preferably with some video games and maybe some of his boys. It had been a long, strenuous week; truthfully, he felt like killing some virtual monsters.

It seemed, however, that his friends had other ideas as to how to spend their newly-freed evening, and of course it involved doing the exact opposite of what Sanemi had hoped to do.

He’d been in the middle of frying an egg for dinner when his phone began vibrating. He’d ignored it at first, until it nearly buzzed itself off his counter, Sanemi having to jolt to catch it in his hand before it hit the cracked linoleum of his kitchen floor.

His phone was steadily buzzing with new messages in the group chat. Swearing slightly under his breath, Sanemi unlocked his phone and scrolled up to see the message that had prompted the flurry of reactions and enthusiastic agreements from his friends.

It had started with a message from Tengen.

Quad. 20 minutes. Snow ball fight.

Sanemi groaned and responded only to tell Tengen to fuck off. But then Y/N had replied that she and the girls were on their way, and she’d called him a baby bitch for sitting out, so he’d had no choice but to bundle up in his thickest flannel and sweater and head towards the quad.

By the time Sanemi trudged his way through the shin-deep wintry sludge, a full-on war was being waged on the campus green. Though it was nearly midnight, the snow illuminated the winter wonderland around them, and Sanemi could see all his friends and a few other straggling students engaged in a fierce battle.

He scanned the quad for a sign of Y/N and spied her about 20 feet away, swathed in a thick, wool coat and hat, crouched slightly behind a tree. Beside her was a small pile of densely packed snowballs, like a stockpiled winter arsenal.

“Ya know you’re supposed to throw the snowballs, right?” Sanemi chided, sidling up to where she stood, just off the snow-covered walk of the green. She had two snowballs clutched in her gloved hands, but her eyes were fixed on someone, her tongue darting out between her lips in concentration as she calculated her next move. “Like, actually throw ‘em at people.”

Y/N tore her eyes off whatever target she’d locked onto to give him a withering glare. “I’m trying, smart-ass, to figure out the best way to hit Gyomei in the face,” she turned away from him once more, resuming her careful assessment of the tallest target on the quad, who was busy pelting the back of Giyuu’s head with scary precision.

Sanemi’s grin turned wicked. “Kinda sadistic of you to target the blind guy, isn’t it?” He goaded, bending down to scoop up and a handful of snow for himself.

Y/N whipped around at him, eyes blazing. “He’s throwing snow chunks at people, you fuckhead, and all is fair in war-“

Y/N’s rant was cut off as a well-packed sphere of snow smashed into the side of her face. She dropped the snowballs she’d been holding, her hand jumping up to her cheek in shock, as the skin beneath it stung from the icy bite of the snow.

Sanemi let out a hearty laugh. Y/N stood there, mouth gaping and dark hair plastered to the wet of her cheek, an adorable mix of both shock and indignation on her face.

Behind him, Sanemi heard Mitsuri’s tinkling, mischievous laughter.

“Motherfucker,” Y/N breathed, staring after her roommate, her eyes lighting up with a promise of swift retribution.

“Oh come on,” Sanemi laughed again at her, open and deep. “You had it coming — that’s what you get for tryna hit the blind -“

An explosion of ice and water smacked into the side of his face, soaking his hair and the collar of his jacket.

Y/N whirled to see Obanai wink at her before he took off to join Mitsuri to guard her against the onslaught flying snowballs.

Y/N turned back to Sanemi and gasped.

Obanai had not just thrown a snowball packed from the generous coating of fresh, pristine powder that covered the green; rather, he’d made a small grenade, using snow and slush gathered from the side of the road.

Gray snow dripped from the side of Sanemi’s face, soiling his cheek, and staining the cream sweater he had on beneath his jacket. Sanemi was frozen in his surprise at being caught off guard until a small, unfamiliar sound snapped him out of it.

The source of the sound made his heart drop to his stomach.

It was Y/N, who was staring up at his soiled face, watching as the black snow slid down his cheek and dripped onto the ground below him.

And she was laughing. Laughing at him.

The sound that rattled from her chest was neither a snicker nor a snort; it was a raspy, raucous cackle. Her head was tipped back slightly, as she gawked up at him, her eyes crinkled with mirth as she vaguely gestured to the smear of gray on his cheek and dissolving into another fit of giggles.

Laughter subsiding slightly, Y/N stepped forward and swiped her hand through the sludge still gathered on Sanemi’s face in a poor attempt to wipe the gray stain away. She realized it was futile though and looked instead at her now-dirtied palm in slight distaste, wiping it against the black wool of her coat.

She peered back up at him and smiled, broad and radiant.

That exhilarating smile faded, however, as Sanemi stood there, motionless, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly parted, shocked into silence.

“Sanemi, what-“ Y/N started, a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Do it again,” Sanemi whispered, breathless. He’d not blinked or dared to do so in case he might miss it. “Smile again.”

Y/N’s eyebrows knit in confusion before softening. She’d not realized she’d even done it.

But Sanemi looked so awestruck, so desperate that she couldn’t deny him. So, she grinned broadly at him, cheeks almost burning after months of non-use, though she could not find it within herself to care.

Sanemi slowly returned the smile, pure joy illuminating his features. And they both began to laugh, without restraint, even as snowballs continued to whizz by them.

By the time the snowball fight had ended, Sanemi was soaked to the bone.

Admittedly, he hadn’t been paying attention to the slushy projectiles that had been lobbed with precision by the carefree college students who had gathered on the quad. His attention had been exclusively on Y/N as she pranced and ducked through the snow, smiling and laughing with abandon.

She’d been exquisite to watch.

One by one, his other friends had caught notice, had pricked their ears at the sound of an unfamiliar laugh that rang through the campus green, and turned to identify the source. As they watched Y/N run and duck and throw with that broad grin on her face, they too, had fallen still, their eyes going soft as they realized the enormity of the moment.

Because when Y/N smiled, she was a completely different person.

She looked bright, carefree, and more radiant than the sun. The resplendence of her smile made the snow look ugly and dull in comparison.

Mitsuri had watched her best friend with tears in her eyes, and Shinobu had looked close to joining her.

All the while, Sanemi had been unable to tear his eyes from her, and the warmth that he felt spread through his numb fingers and cheeks made him swear that he would do anything, anything at all, to make Y/N smile again.

—————————————————————————

Sanemi felt as though he was levitating even after he dropped Y/N off back at her apartment. He may as well have been floating on a cloud as he made his way down the hallway of the dimly lit hallway of the girls’ apartment complex, because he’d finally seen Y/N smile, had seen her laugh, and it was goddamned glorious.

Mitsuri emerged from the hall stairwell, cheeks pink and eyes bright from the evening of fun in the cold. She giggled as she saw the gray stain still on Sanemi’s face from the sludge ball he took.

“I would say ‘sorry,’ but honestly, it was pretty funny,” Mitsuri teased, nodding at his disheveled appearance. Sanemi snorted, but he couldn’t feign annoyance or irritation because he felt so damn good.

“Tell your boyfriend to watch out tonight, or else he might find his bed outside.”

Mitsuri giggled again, but then fell quiet, something more serious crossing her face.

“When are you going to tell her you’re in love with her?” She asked, her voice low.

Just like that, Sanemi felt as though a bucket of ice water had been thrown over him, as though he was crashing right back down to earth under the weight of the accusation she wanted him to answer for.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said gruffly, averting his gaze so he did not have to meet Mitsuri’s knowing stare.

Sanemi knew Mitsuri could see right through his bullshit — could tell by the way she huffed at him and could see it out of his periphery in how her head was cocked at him. He looked back at her and nearly recoiled at the vast pity swimming in her jade eyes.

“Fuck, Mitsuri,” he groaned, leaning against the hall wall and letting his head fall back against it with a thud. He ran a hand over his exhausted face, and slightly resented the fact his friend had always been so discerning in the affairs of the heart.

“I can’t put that kind of pressure on her,” Sanemi admitted quietly after a long moment, arm falling back down to his side, limp.

Mitsuri had been right, of course, he was in love with Y/N. He’d suspected it for a while, but seeing her radiant smile that night only confirmed that the persistent twisting he had felt in his heart over the last few months had been more than mere longing. 

But Sanemi also knew he’d long been toeing a line that he can’t cross.

“If things between us went south, what then?” Sanemi continued, “We’ve been friends since we were kids. She’ll feel like she’s the one who has to leave, and I-“ Sanemi hesitated, shaking his head. A lump formed in his throat, threatening to suffocate the emotions that have been fighting to break free from his heart. 

“It would be fuckin’ selfish of me to take that from her after she’s tried so hard to build herself a support network. I can’t do that to her, ‘Suri.”

The pink-haired woman sighed and joined him as he leaned against the wall, the two staring off into the empty space before them.

“She is a part of our group, that’s true,” Mitsuri agreed, though contemplative. “But you, Sanemi, have been the biggest source of comfort for her.”

Sanemi scoffed. “Well, that’s what best friends are s’pposed to do.”

Mitsuri shook her head, a ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. “No, I’m her best friend,” she nudged him playfully with her elbow. “You though… you’re different. And I think she knows that, too.”

She kicked off the wall, and made her way towards her apartment door, pausing just as she reaches for the knob.

“After all, you’re the one she smiled for.”

Mitsuri and all her pink disappeared into her apartment, the door clicking softly shut behind her.

Sanemi remained against the wall for a while longer, his head and his heart a tangled web of hope and doubt.

The walk back to his place is solitary, and so Sanemi tried to sort through the snarled brambles of his mind. As he shuffled through the winter landscape, Sanemi thought that he’d never fully appreciated the snow before. He hadn’t noticed how beautiful snow-capped conifers looked, branches heavy with the sparkling ice; hadn’t realized how beautifully quiet the world could be when blanketed beneath a thick coat of white.

He thought about how Y/N looked standing amidst the chaos of the snowball fight, cheeks flushed with the cold and her own adrenaline, a smile as wide and bright plastered on her face. He basked in the warm echoes of her laughter as she lobbed yet another snowball at the back of Mitsuri’s head, squealing in delight when her friend returned her attack tenfold.

And Sanemi thinks that the snow wasn’t so bad after all.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Stick around for part 2 if you want to find out if Sanemi will finally confess (and how he’ll likely screw it up 😉)

#demon slayer #sanemi shinazugawa #kimetsu no yaiba #kny sanemi #sanemi x reader #kny x reader #kny fanfic #sanemi drabble #kny #kocho shinobu #shinobu kocho #mitsuri kanroji #kimetsu mitsuri #kny mitsuri #kny shinobu #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro rengoku

[sungmee]

(OFMD) just a little ep 8 alternate ending mini-fic

Izzy is laying there in a sort of daze, bullet wound in his side, Ed holding him, the crew around them. He says to leave him to sit with Ed, he says he wants to go. “That would be the blood loss talking, little man.” says a low drawl above his head, before Roach is casually slotting himself next to Ed, tugging at Izzy’s shirt and vest to get at the wound. Stede drops down on Izzy’s other side, face tight with worry and eyes wide, and Izzy wrinkles his nose. “I said-”

But Izzy can’t continue as, like a spell being broken, he’s suddenly surrounded by the rest of the crew, clustered so close it's almost suffocating. Voices overlap around him; Fang is saying something reassuring, Jim is threatening him to stay alive, and he thinks he hears Black Pete say ‘isn’t it bad luck for a unicorn to die?’ before Lucius elbows him. Izzy blinks.

The sharp pain from Roach sewing him up is bringing clarity back into his head, and he swears as his thoughts realign. He can’t think about them all wanting him to live, not now, so he focuses on the more prevalent matter.

“Why the fuck aren’t we moving?” They all look confused. “The ship!” He snaps. “The Navy are still out there, we should be sailing away, you twats!” The crew jump and immediately scramble off, rushing to get them going, and Izzy huffs.

He turns to snap at Stede, only to come face-to-face with a pair of big teary puppy eyes. Stede is also clutching tightly at his hand, he realizes, and Izzy sighs. “...fine, you can stay.”

Instead, Izzy turns to Ed, who's clutching his other hand and looking deeply relieved. “You, go help with the ship.” Ed blinks. “You know how to sail, go help them.” Ed opens his mouth to protest, but Stede speaks up. “It’ll help with making amends to the crew.” Ed closes his mouth, nods. He gives Izzy’s hand one last squeeze, before rising and crossing the deck to where Fang and Oluwande are working.

Roach finishes up his work, securing the bandages and giving Izzy one last assessing look, before nodding in satisfaction and joining the rest of the crew. And then it's just Stede and Izzy. “Should’ve known you wouldn’t have let me go.” Izzy mutters. Stede tilts his head. “Did you really want to?” Izzy grimaces. “...no.” Stede says nothing, only turns so his cheek is resting against the top of Izzy’s head, and Izzy has to breathe deep for a moment. He had come so close to losing everything he had only just gained, and the sharp pain in his side keeps him grounded.

Eventually, Stede says they probably shouldn’t be in the middle of the deck, and Izzy snorts. He goes to stand, stumbles, and Stede catches him, scoops him up in his arms, despite Izzy’s protests. They go into the captain’s cabin, get the blood cleaned off, get Izzy out of his dirty clothes. Stede guides him to the bed, and Izzy pauses. “Trying to get me into your bed, Bonnet?” He drawls, falling back on snark when he’s feeling so off-balance. Stede rolls his eyes. “Yeah, and you can have me in there too later, if you want.” He replies, with equal sass. Izzy flushes.

Stede gets him under the covers and he drops off almost instantly, exhausted. When he wakes, morning light pours in the windows, slightly cracked to let in a fresh breeze. The room is empty, but there are his clothes, neatly folded on a nearby chair. Izzy reaches for the pile, unfolds the shirt and vest. Both garments have been cleaned and mended, patched where the bullet hit him, and he stares blankly at the handiwork for a moment.

He can feel the breeze on his back, hear the crew out on deck. He remembers how they clustered around him, how Ed had looked devastated, how Stede had fought for him. He swallows hard and slips into his shirt, then opens his vest, taking it slow because of his injury.

His eyes catch on a shape on the inside of the vest and he freezes. On the outside, the fix is barely noticeable, a slightly different shade of black filling in the hole, but on the inside is a full patch, carefully stitched, and…

…in the shape of a rose. “What the fuck.” He hisses to himself, tears springing unbidden to his eyes.

Suddenly, he is very very grateful to still be alive.

#our flag means death #ofmd #izzy hands #ofmd s2 #ofmd s2 spoilers

[avvail-whumps]

Fae AU??? Like with all the fae glamours and tricks and rigged “games” and maybe the whole thing where if you eat the food there you can never leave…

Leo knew he wasn’t meant to be out in the forest alone. He also knew that he was bound to step into a hidden trap, laid out for unsuspecting little humans that were certain to fall victim to them.

Part of him had never believed the stories growing up. So, maybe he could blame it on being slightly naive, when his eyes were drawn to a cluster of mushrooms.

He had thought the little circle they formed was pretty to look at; it wasn’t a suprise he found himself hopping into it, smiling slightly to himself to ease the tension of being lost. He admired the large ring for a long while, before gazing up at the sky.

It would be getting dark soon.

The wise thing to do would be to start finding his way back, hopefully before the sun set and the moon rose into the sky. He had been about to start moving, when a sudden crackle of a twig made his head whirl around.

Leo’s heart fluttered in his throat at the sight of a man by the tree, gazing at him intensely. He couldn’t help but let out a suprised breath, a hand instinctively pressing against his chest from the scare.

“You scared me,” he breathed shakily, avoiding the man’s intense stare. There was long, tense pause, before the strange man seemed to smile. There was something peculiar about him, this uncanny aura flowing from him, but Leo noted that he was pretty handsome. Alluringly handsome, in fact, and he found himself stealing glimpses at him on occasion.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he hummed, stepping away from the tree and closer to the ring. His feet stopped just outside of it, but Leo stayed planted where he was. “Are you lost?”

There was something a little odd about the man. Leo could feel his gut instincts stirring in his stomach, his hairs pricking on edge. He hesitantly licked his lips, feeling somewhat awkward now.

“Uh, no,” he answered back, trying to keep his voice from wobbling. He wondered how the man had so easily snuck up on him. Like he’d just appeared from thin air. “I’m on my way home.”

The man’s lip curved up into an amused smirk. His eyes were so intense that he forced himself to look elsewhere, swallowing nervously.

“You’re a bit far out, you know,” the man shrugged. Leo glanced at him, noting how his demeanour had seemed to shift, and he looked a little bit more normal. That unease pricking at the back of his neck seemed to lift, and the knot in his stomach untangled itself. Leo had been in a world of his own. The man was staying far enough away from him, at least.

“I know,” he breathed, rubbing his fingers together awkwardly. “That’s why I should probably go.”

The man hummed. Leo, for some reason, felt glued to the very spot he was standing on. He didn’t really want the man out of his sights if he could help it; his eyes were incredibly intense whenever he was trapped in his gaze.

“What’s your name?”

Leo’s eyebrows rose slightly. They furrowed in confusion after a second, eyes darting to the ground. “Oh, it’s...” He hesitated. “Leo.”

“Leo?” The man hummed, his lip curving up into an amused smirk. At the sound of his name, Leo immediately pricked up, a strange sensation washing over him. It fell right down to the bottom of his stomach, and he could feel his forehead becoming clammy from the sudden outburst of anxious nerves. The man chuckled.

“Is that...funny?” Leo grumbled under his breath, a little embarrassed. He waved a hand airily.

“I don’t think you’d find it very humourous, little lion.”

Leo frowned. Little what—?

His feet shuffled backwards as the man took a step forward, crossing the ring of mushrooms.

“Okay, I think I’m going to go,” Leo hurriedly whispered, violently trying to shake off the sudden impatient surge from his body. “Thank you for your concern.”

Leo spun around hastily to make a dash through the trees. He didn’t make it step out of the ring though, because what he was looking at wasn’t trees. There were no trees. He blinked slowly, registering the gentle brush of wind on his cheeks. His eyes raked around, and his stomach dropped straight to his boots.

He wasn’t in the forest anymore. Whatever land he was in, was a breathtakingly beautiful one. A watercolored sky, painted with light blues that melted beautifully into each other. Perfect hills of fresh, green grass, and the rush of a flowing lake by the flowers.

Leo’s mouth went dry, and a coil of absolute terror stabbed through his heart. The mushroom ring. The stories.

His eyes found the man’s, all coy and fox-like.

“I told you my name,” he whispered in horror under his breath. The man hummed under his breath, smirking.

“Yes, you did.”

A stray tear rolled down his cheek. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No, little lion,” he murmured softly, easing forward so he was close enough to touch him. Leo went to jerk away, despite the fuzziness and the lightheadedness, but the man was quick to stop him.

“Don’t move, Leo.”

So he didn’t.

He didn’t exactly have a choice. Even the air was sweet smelling, so much that it was making him dizzy. The man’s fingers were gently wiping away the tears with the gentlest of touches, his other hand tangling within his own.

Leo could feel himself being pulled along, and it was as though his legs weren’t even attached to his own body. The man—the creature, the fae—was taking him somewhere, inside a house, the sudden burst of delicious smells overwhelming his senses. Leo’s slack expression nearly brightened up when he was welcomed by a long table stacked with food.

There was everything there. Anything he could have dreamt of. The man’s hand eased along his lower back, making shivers tingle up his spine.

In a blink, he realised he’d crossed the room, and he was already holding an apple in his hand. Leo suddenly jolted, snapping out of it, jerking away from the man’s grip.

“Take me back,” he demanded, and realised that tears had been rolling down his cheeks without even realising since he arrived here. His hand felt itchy, trying not to let the panic shake his voice. “Please. Please, I’m begging you.”

“I can hear that, lion,” the man purrred, motioning to the food. “I’ll take you back. Unless you’d like to eat.”

Leo’s frantic brain tried to remember the rules. There were rules to this. What was it? Don’t give up your name? Don’t bargain? Don’t—

He heaved on a sob, craning away from his touch once again. “Please let me go.”

“You can eat a little before you go,” the man pressed, his head tilting to the side. His eyes slid down to the apple clenched in his hand, so tightly his knuckles had gone white. “A bite won’t hurt. Go on, little lion. Just a taste.”

Those words were like a haunting little whisper in his ear. An enticing, tempting command for him to battle with valiantly. Leo opened his mouth to say something, to refuse and to find his way out of this stunning, perfect, extravagant land, but there was a sudden burst of sweetness on his tongue and—

Oh. He was eating the apple.

Leo’s eyes flickered up in horror.

Now he remembered the rules.

And from the look on the fae’s face, he knew it too.

#guns for hire special #ask #whump #whump writing #whump tropes #whump scenario #whumpblr #whump community #fae whump #fae whumper #human whumpee #whumper #whumpee #leo and roy #my writing #writing #avvail whumps #i've actually never written fae stuff before #i tried finding some stuff i could check and find inspiration off but i couldnt actually find anything #so i hope i didn't get it too wrong :(

[h0unds-of-h3ll]

In the Night

You’re in his dreams, every Night, every time he closes his eyes you’re in his head. He doesn’t even know your name, but he’s screaming it.

Steven Grant x reader smut.

Word count: 3k

Viewers beware you’re in for a scare with the: Succubus! Reader, dark themes, somnophilia,, unprotected sex, degrading and praise, blow jobs, explicit language and themes, bruising, anal play, spanking, gagging, sex pollen *kinda, prophecy things, groping, biting, making out, p in v, cunilingus.

A/n: inception type thing. I’m sorry if this reads rushed. It’s bc it was. I wrote this solely to contribute to #hangoverthemoon challenge. @inklore & @burnthoneymint wonderful moon knight challenge! Thanks for the beautiful opportunity!!

He’s been having dreams. Well, everyone does but his are more like waking nightmares. Now, don’t laugh but, well how else is he going to put it. It’s always involving a faceless women fucking him. Steven doesn’t know how but this woman always knows what he wants. The flicker of some idea always flourishes into his dream. He can’t escape it, he’s tried. Staying up with artificial energy that makes the night so much more unbearable. He’s fidgety, Donna thought he finally caved in and bought some sketchy narcotic. But who was she kidding, Steven wasn’t one to medicate. Although, he’s considering it now.

It wouldn’t be as strange, if she didn’t reenact all the things he wanted. It was like a projection of his thoughts, but only in his dreams. He didn’t know what the fuck he touched or whatever God he pissed off but this royally sucks. His head is perched up by his hand. The meaningless chatter of people buzzes around him. His mouth slightly opens as a soft snore follows. His eyes flutter close. He’s slumped over the table, the register his pillow. He’s drifting in and out of consciousness. He feels the sting of teeth on his thighs. Suddenly he’s burning inside the conditioned gift shop. His hair stands on his damp skin.

A feeling of waves crashing in his stomach, reminds him of a tsunami. His jaw clenched, thick brows furrowed. His chest filled with air like a balloon only, to pop. The shards fall on his thighs. The thighs that are prickled with bite marks. Sharp pointy teeth might he add. Teeth that feel like they’re filed to do just this. To seduce him. He feels warmth spread along the length of his cock. Like a nose. The nose nuzzles into the base and he’s picking up the pace he breathes. He’s embarrassingly close to spewing his cum into whoever is making him feel such a way. If he listens he can hear his name being called as a mantra.

Over and over, louder with each call. Until he’s hit. His eyes widen as he jumps awake. He’s confused and frightened as to why he’s been attacked. But there’s bigger problems. Such as his cock fully hardened on his thigh. He’s sweating, big wet drops of humid sweat. Hairline clustered full, he looks like he just showered from how much he’s exuding. He looks up from his shoes to a pissed Donna. She’s fuming, hands on hips and a snarl. Her eyes are cutting daggers, and if Steven wasn't already hyperventilating he would be. This is it he thinks. This is the time she’s finally going to fire me. But all she does is pivot, pointing a boney finger where the entrance is. People scattered throughout the place.

“Out.”

Steven ducks under the desk. Grabbing his satchel before throwing it over his shoulders. He doesn’t even take off the metal plate pinned to his chest. He’s just scurrying away, to his apartment. Although, he’s probably lost a thousand pounds with his workout. He thinks a good nap is in his future.

~~~

Steven almost dropped his keys, three times before unlocking his door. Riddled with anxiety he pushes the wood open. He’s shuffling in with a groan and a wince. It’s painful how hard he is. How his trousers are rubbing somehow just right to give him this torture. He shrugs off the bag, wrapping it around a hook in his wall. He peels off his jacket, his name tag clinging with the zipper. He hangs his head low into his chest. Ashamed of everything about his nature. What a freak. Without a second thought he trails over to his one finned wonder. The little fish waves at him with big eyes. Its mouth is opening and closing like a valve. He hunches over, hands on his thighs and face almost pressed to the aquatic glass. A staring competition ensues. He blinks and curses under his breath.

“I’ll get you next time.”

He points an index, wiggling the digit at the Goldie who stares blankly at him. He leaves, carefully stepping over the ring of sand. Stepping on the backs of his shoes to tiptoe to his bed. He face plants, not caring to undress. Even with knowing the culprit who made him go on bizarre adventures in the middle of the night. The tape and sand remains, for an entirely different reason. For the faceless woman who haunts his dreams.

~~~

“Such a curious thing.”

A woman’s voice sounds. It’s elegant laced with something potent. Steven jumps startled. Well, as best as he can anyway. His head laid on the woman’s lap, her fingers tangled in his hair.

“W-who are you?”

He asks, panic-stricken. He doesn’t know if he should be enticed with the naked lady, who snuck into his apartment. Or terrified. Strange enough he feels inebriated. She gives him a lovely smile. Her face, something he’d see out of a magazine. She’s not faceless. He’s being misguided, a familiar feeling aroused in his stomach. Her pointy teeth, glimmers. One of her hands leaves the mop on his head. She takes her index, laying it onto the space between his brows. Before flowing downwards over the bridge. Down to the tip. He can breathe the scent of her in. It’s fascinating, sex and sweetness interlaced. It takes his brain awhile to compute that the woman is bare to him. His neck, bare on her thigh. Her cunt close to his face. His breath hitches. He blushes, eyes darting away from her.

“I have many names, although you can call me whatever you desire.”

There it is again, that spike in his heart rate. His breath catches in his throat. Eyebrows knitted together. Her finger traces over the bow of his full lips.

“Okay.”

He whispers. He thinks for a second. If this is a dream. Then it’s a really fucking vivid one. She doesn’t seem as cruel as the other lady who plagued him. If this was the same lady, then why was she being kind? His head hurts, but suddenly he doesn’t care. He puckers his lips kissing the side of her hand, one of his cups her bicep. Pulling her closer to him.

“What do you want from me? You’re always in my dreams, and I don’t get why.”

He questions, her hand leaving his lips to the side of his cheek. Her thumb is smoothing over the crease in his cheekbone.

“There is much that you don’t understand, mortal.”

Steven’s heart plummets to his stomach. Mortal? Was this a joke? There’s so many things wrong with what’s happening but he bites. His brown eyes flicked across her face, nothing that hints to her joking.

“Are-, are you not of my kind?”

His voice is meek and quiet. His brain goes a mile a minute. She shakes her head, eyes filling with remorse. She breathes a sigh.

“I am not. I’ve taken a liking to you, there’s few who are like you Steven.”

She says in monotone. He assumes everything is happening for a reason. So he doesn’t question. Although it bewilders him farther. Her hand traces over the rigid bone in his jaw.

“There are many hidden souls that are conjoined with yours. I can only reach them during the feeble state of unconsciousness.”

She purses her lips, eyes going off his face. She wonders how she can simplify this for him to understand. She smiles, finally finding the words.

“I have seen the inner workings of your mind. Danced along the intricate system.”

Steven’s cheeks heat up. So it was her. But why all of a sudden was she playing nice? When he starts to speak, her thumb goes between his lips. Putting silence to his breaking mind.

“You intercept me in such a concupiscent way.”

He doesn’t know what it means but he takes it anyway. She leans down to his face, the hand in his hair leaving. Cupping each side, her face a few inches away. Twisting her body the best she can while he still lays in her lap. She cranes her head to the side. Such a fine specimen he is. Dopey browns don't match his sharp features. Steven’s not entirely sure if he’s still dreaming or not, but he’s so touch starved that he’s reveling in this fantasy.

“I can help you be one with yourself. I can fix the torment that resides within.”

Her lips brush against his. He can feel her breath on his face. Those eyes burn into his.

“Just let me in.”

She slots her lips against his. At first Steven’s petrified, but soon melts into her touch. His arms wrap around her warm waist. His hands grope the skin there. Her tongue comes into his mouth and he’s moaning. His nose nudged against her cheek. She bites his lip, he whimpers. Not in pain but in pure bliss. She swings her leg over his thick thighs. Sitting on his waist.

It’s sensual at first, before she starts tugging at the buttons on his shirt. Nimble fingers working fast to unbutton them. He can’t even fathom what’s happening, lost in the feel of her moving on top of him. She parts his lips with a quick peck to the tip of his nose. She kisses his jaw, traveling down his neck. Nipping and biting. God, it does something, the open cave of her mouth moving on him. Her tongue swirls around to ease the blossoming bruise. His hips buck everytime she leaves deep teeth marks in his flesh.

She kisses each scar she can find. The sides of his shirt pool at his sides. She’s like a snake with the way she’s crawling down him. His hands fall when she gets out of reach. He fists his sheets, trying not to lose what’s left of his mind. Hips jolting up as she bites him harshly at the skin above the waistband of his pants. His briefs peeking above. She smirks seeing him squirm. So responsive, like always. Maybe that’s why she was so mean to him, it was just so easy.

“Such an eager human.”

His breath stills in his chest. He swallows thickly. Knuckles turning white. Her fingers hook under the loops in his pants. He lifts his hips to help her. They’re hooked around one of his ankles. He doesn’t bother kicking them off. The tent in his briefs barely contained his erection. The tip is already coming out of the band. She drools on the outside and he’s shaking. Slowly she tugs it down his thighs. His angry cock hitting his lower stomach. The ruddy head, a crimson color smeared with cum. He’s dripping down his shaft. Veins pulsing rhythmically. His balls were already taut and filled. He’s not sure he’s going to last very long. Not at all. She licks from where his sac sits to his frenulum. He hisses at the feeling. Chasing her awaiting mouth. She’s mewls, almost purring while she kisses up and down his girth.

“Tell me Steven, what is it that you want?”

She speaks as if it’s a casual conversation. Steven was not having it. He moans high in his throat, jutting his hips up. It only makes her lips curl as she drools more onto his length. Her hands wrap around the base, languidly stroking him. Steven manages to somehow get on his forearms to look down. He wishes he hadn’t because something bursts somewhere between his heart and stomach. His cum starts spewing. But she doesn’t fucking move. Not an inch.

“You. Fuck, I want you please. I don’t know what to say, I just want. I wan’ you!”

Steven’s accent draws throughout his words. He begs. He’s on the verge of tears. Steven has half the brain capacity to speak coherently but she smiles. Perfect lips pulling up to show those sharp teeth. She leans over, putting her mouth over the head of his cock. Taking it in her mouth. Steven’s thighs tense up, spreading wide for her. His head tilts back, eyes closing shut. He mutters curses into the air as her head sinks down. Her nails scrape into his thighs.

The tear of his skin makes his eyes water. He doesn’t know how but she somehow fits his entire length down the back of her throat. Her teeth running against his sensitive cock makes the tears slip down his cheeks. Her nose nuzzles the coarse hair at the end of his cock. She stays there, tongue almost licking the top of his balls. She’s swallowing around him. He grinds up in her face and he’s astonished when she doesn’t gag around him. He continues using her. Hips bucking into her face. Her taking it, feeling him jab a circle into her mouth.

Her eyes roll in the back of her head. Her chest down between his legs, on the mattress. Ass high in the air as he dicks her down. He leans up, fully sitting. He grabs fistfuls of her ass. Kneading the skin. His hand comes down on one of her cheeks. She moans around him. He feels the vibration and it sends him into a frenzy. His hands go into her hair. Pushing her face, fully into his crotch and releasing. Hot cum spills down the back of her throat.

The bitter taste, fermenting in her stomach as she drinks from him. He falls flat on his back, his cock falling from her lips. It’s sticky, everything. His thighs, his cock, her mouth. Wet. Some of his cum falls from her mouth, she pushes the back of her hand to her lips. Simply wiping it off, before licking it back up. His soaked cock doesn’t soften. So she crawls up his body. However she flips around. Her ass facing him. Her hands on his shins. She runs his length over her folds and she moans. The head, catching her clit.

“So pretty.”

Steven mumbles, amazed. She glistened with a light sheen of sweat. He takes his cock in his hand. Lining up with her entrance. Entering her soft walls. When he’s sure he won’t slip out, he takes both hands and spreads out her ass. He watches her sink down on him. Her thighs hug his hips. His thumb rubs around the taut ring. She whimpers, grinding her hips into his. He whines, feeling her walls accommodate him.

“Can I?”

His voice barely above a whisper. He watches the back of her head nod swiftly. He replaces his thumb with his longest finger. Carefully pushing the pad into her. Her cunt squeezes him, so tight and he can’t breathe.

“Fuck, you feel so good. Can feel you squeezin’ me love.”

Such a charming fellow he is. Calling a monster, love. She pushes a hand down, rolling her bundle of nerves. Her cunt hugs around him again. He’s seeing stars at this point. Better yet, the whole galaxy. His finger goes to the first knuckle, he bites down on his cheek.

“Takin’ me so well.”

His brows pinch together as he chases that feeling he just had seconds ago. Then she starts. She lifts her hips up, her pussy squelching as she falls back down onto his hips. He throws his head back, groaning incoherent half words. She’s sputtering praises directed at him. And then fuck, she’s moaning out and calling what Steven understood as a whore. He’s too far gone to defend himself. And what is there to defend, he is one. Belongs in a brothel for all he knows. Her ass sucks his finger all the way to the web. That’s all it takes for him to buck up into her. Long white ribbons of cum, hitting up into her womb.

He stays there, hips up and body shivering. He removes his finger from her tight hole. He crashes down into Earth. His head was spinning. He barely registers her begging him to fuck up into her. She’s using him. He’s more than happy to oblige. Her hips stutter, her hands fly out to catch herself on his thighs. She drenches him. They stay there. Mesmerized by each other. Reeling in the feeling of the tingles along their spines. Then the aftermath occurs. She slowly eases off him. His cock lays on his thigh. Damp. She lays by his side. He opens his arms out to hug her into his chest. Steven the sap. He doesn’t care to pull up his trousers or briefs wrapped around his legs. Her face falls onto his chest. Near his sternum. Her hair smells like sulfur. His arm wrapped around her shoulders to hold her close. His hand roams her arm. He’s enthralled by her. A complete phenomenon that he’ll most likely never understand.

“Would you care for some tea?”

Steven ruins it. He’s too much of a romantic to hook up with someone and to not care afterwards. The thing is, he cares about everything all too much. But that is who he is, a lover not a fighter. And he’s okay with it. He can feel her wolf-like grin on his chest and his flight or fight is triggered. He can feel the bruises already on his skin. He doesn’t care for there to be more. Instead, she rests her chin up onto his chest. Looking him dead in the eyes. Her mouth opens, and she bites down on his nipple. Hard. He winces jerking away, his hand quickly coming to cover the peak. He looks at her with betrayal. How could she? But technically it is his fault, he should’ve known better than to have his guard down around her. This is what he gets.

“What a little shit.”

He whines, lifting up from her. Sitting up on the shelf behind him. She shakes her head, laughing loudly at him. She quiets, her face falling to stone.

“When you awake in the morning, do not fret when I am not here.”

Steven’s heart plummets. How could he have forgotten that? He frowns. Lips turning down into a deep pout. She leans upward, kissing under his jaw. Before laying her head on his shoulder. He plunks his head on top of hers. It’s silent for a few minutes. Before she speaks, something that Steven never understood she voices. Laying everything out in the open. The reason she’s only in his dreams, in his head.

“I never even existed in the first place.”

#steven grant x reader fluff #steven grant x reader angst #steven grant x reader smut #moon knight x reader smut #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight x reader #oscar isaac x reader #hangoverthemoonchallenge #moonknightwritingchallenge

[vampkillr]

To Know — Bruce Wayne

m! vamp! reader — 2.2k words — angst — there's romance in this — SUGGESTIVE part towards the end you've been warned — battinson — spoilers for the new batman movie.

There was a calmness to my method. A beauty in chipping away piece by piece, carving out delicate beings from what was once a pillar of the strongest stone. Giving life to something so simple as rock. Creating flesh from earth. Shaping them in humanity's image. I was patient enough for this. Patient enough to seek out each detail with my chisel. Burying my tools into the stone and digging for every crease and corner of the body I was forming. Sculpting was an art that took time— and I was a man who had more time than I knew what to do with. "I can feel your eyes on me, you know." Something about a piercing gaze that made all of my senses jolt awake. He had been watching me for the past few hours—leaving every so often— but he'd always return. I knew who he was. What he was. Behind the scent of titanium and leather, the faint sound of blood being pumped through his heart. I don't think he knew I could sense him. I don't think he could tell what I was, but I knew better than to think my art was what intrigued him. "Do you speak?" My tone condescending.

"Only when I need to." His footsteps echoed from behind me, but I didn't make any effort to turn around and look at him. "You don't seem to sleep." My nerves began to cluster in my stomach from his statement. I knew I was stronger than him. Less fragile, but he was still the batman— and I knew the people he's defeated before encountering me. Would he have much of a challenge?

"Only when I need to." I used his own remark for myself, trying so desperately to turn my focus to my sculpture. The sound his steps made against the pavement, growing louder as he got closer to me— I was on edge. His breath was warm against the chill of my neck.

"I can make you human again," I wanted to crumble beneath the weight of the fear that froze me. The air of anticipation that settled sent me deeper into my panic. How did I want to play this out? Did I want to put up a fight even though he was offering me something I had yearned for? How could I trust him? "do you want that?" His voice snapped me out of my turmoil.

"No one can cure it." I straightened my back against him, trying to hide my weakening resolve. "Though the thought of living and growing old with someone is enticing, I know it's not possible, so please—" I turned around, doing my best not to falter under his gaze. "just don't tell anyone. I mean no harm." I knew I was pleading. I knew it was probably of no use. But I had to try.

"You don't think it's possible?" He stepped closer, trapping me between his own body and my sculpture. I shook my head. I knew all too well that it wasn't.

"Viruses lack self-sufficiency. But this one manages to survive even after the body kills itself trying to fight it." I sighed. "Even if you managed to help me, I would die. I wouldn't be human again." He brought his hand up to my face, thumb grazing against my cheek. I would never be able to let myself fall in love. I couldn't stay in one place forever. I couldn't have friends in fear I'd harm them out of desperation. My looks and my age were stagnant. I would never have the possibility of continuing my life. I would never see myself grow old. This wasn't living. It wasn't surviving. I just existed, unable to truly move forward and unable to ever go back. It was being stuck.

I rested my hand on his wrist, trying to gently coax his hold on my face, but he didn't budge. The feeling of being held was so foreign to me that my stomach began to twist the more I focused on it. I didn't know why I felt so pulled to him. Why I stopped being scared. Something about the proximity seemed to dull my senses. "Why have you been watching me?" He finally backed away, pulling a piece of paper out from his utility belt.

"I'm sure you've heard of the riddler." He handed me what looked like a halloween card, a cute spider drawn on the front.

Pity the recluse who prays the day away... I opened the card.

His story told through cold bodies and still eyes, they point to who next meets his demise. Underneath the text on the card, was a riddle written by hand.

Inaction can come with a cost, this empty reminder shows just what he lost. I hummed.

"I think this part is about one of my sculptures." I circled the first half of the riddle. "Cold bodies, still eyes... You assumed this card was specifically about me— what I am— but I haven't done anything wrong." It baffled me how he was right about the wrong thing. If part of the riddle really was about my sculptures, then I needed to think back to each one I've done. For the city, there were only three. And the one that pointed was a commission piece I did for the city. It was in the park, and given the direction.... My brows furrowed. "Bruce Wayne." He stepped away from me.

"What?" There was a strange amount of shock in his voice. "How did you..." It took only a second to gather what he had thought I discovered. He didn't sound scared, though. Just.... Surprised.

"I suppose there are no more secrets between us now, but that's not what I meant." I walked closer to him, closing the gap he made and showing the card. My finger underlined the front words. "Pity the recluse.... If I'm pitying, something must be wrong." I opened it. "I made a sculpture, the one in the park— it points to the heart of the city. Wayne tower isn't far off." I looked up at him, unable to discern the look on his face from the mask. "You're a recluse; and you've done nothing publicly for Gotham. Inaction. This empty reminder shows just what he lost...." I trailed off.

"The orphanage." His tone unreadable. Dark. The orphanage was abandoned and his own personal embodiment of becoming an orphan himself. The riddler wanted him to go there, but not as Bruce Wayne... Right? He couldn't have known something like that.... Could he? He had access to so many incriminating things about the mayor, the DA, the Commissioner— if his next target was Bruce Wayne, who's to say he hasn't figured out he was the Batman already?

"I guess you've got what you came for," I smiled through my worry. I had to trust his capability. "pleasant meeting you." I turned and walked back to my work, while he left without a word. We were bound to each other's secret, and held hostage by our own. Neither of us could say a word without our own truth being revealed.

Half of the city was underwater by the time we saw each other again, meeting on the roof of a building that there was no longer an entrance to. "Gotham needs more than what I am right now." He said, gazing off at the mess before us. "I need you to bite me." I sighed.

"There's more to it than just turning you, Bruce. I can't do that." He turned to me, ready to plead, but I spoke before he could. "You get so sick that you die. You wake up buried in a flashy suit and so thirsty that you'd kill literally anyone over the mere scent of them. It's an abyss." My hands went to his jaw and I took his mask off, relishing the sight of him. "Just because I haven't killed anyone in Gotham doesn't mean I've had this type of restraint forever. You're not ready for it." We stared at each other for a moment. Silence consuming us and yet so many words on our minds. I could see everything he wanted to say, everything he wanted to do— but neither of us moved any closer than we were.

"We can't be more than just this if you don't turn me," I couldn't tell if he earnestly wanted my love or if he wanted to use me for the immunity I could provide him. "I know you don't know me—" I cut him off.

"I know you more deeply than others, seeing you like this. Seeing you for who and what you are. For who you want to be." I traced the bat symbol on his chest lightly. "I know enough to believe I'd fall for you. But I can't stake your humanity for my own selfishness." I liked him. I liked his determination and his valor. I liked how he wanted Gotham to change, even if he was going about it in a strange way. But what he was asking of me was a cruelty to him. Especially if things didn't work out between us the way we were hoping.

"I'll stake it for you." He took the top part of his suit off. Baring his skin for me, Bruce pulled me towards him. "Do it." There was no choice. If this was what he wanted, if I was what he wanted— he'd find someone else to turn him. And knowing the type of people who turned me, there was a good chance he might be drained from lack of restraint. He'd die.

I leaned in closer to him, taking in the scent of his skin. One thing I truly did enjoy about my state was that humans didn't smell like how they smelled when I was one of them. Biologically, they changed from being my equals into being things I fed from. The blood that flowed through every inch of them, the pheromones they unknowingly released— every part of a human's body was something vampires were curated to crave. His scent was intoxicating, and I was positive separating myself from him would be one of the most difficult things I had to do. "I need to prepare myself for the taste of you." I muttered, feeling the way my breath grazed his skin with each word. My lips were practically touching the pale of his shoulder, my head dazed from the feeling of breathing him in. Bruce led my face to his, craning down to meet me— but he didn't move any closer.

"Wouldn't this be simpler?" He whispered. It was only then that I realized my fear that night was calmed by the lust I had for his blood. I've been driven into a hazy fog, completely malleable and his to manipulate. There wasn't one clear thought in my head that didn't completely revolve around him. But I didn't have to think anymore. I closed the gap between us and he pulled me further into him. I couldn't taste his blood like this, but I could feel his warmth and lose myself in it. The feeling of him pressing against me, the way he was holding me so desperately; I lost myself in him for just a moment. I pushed away from him, giving him the air he needed and taking the chance to move his jaw to the side. His neck was exposed to me, but I knew better than to bite him there. No matter how strong the urge to devour him was, my need to love and be loved was stronger.

I pressed my tongue to the skin I was so tempted to bite, drunk from just the taste of his flesh. “Lay down, I don't want you passing out in case I can't stop right away.” He followed my command only to pull me on top of him and into his lips. He was kissing me just for the sake of doing so. “Bruce,” His name slipped from my mouth in a whimper which seemed to only encourage him— but I backed off. I needed to cling to what little sense I had. If I let him go further with me while he was still human, I wouldn't have the ability to hold myself back. I could kill him, and I knew better than to let myself lose rationale.

“I'm sorry,” His face morphed with worry, hands reaching to hold me. “I shouldn't have—” I cut him off by biting into the muscle where his neck met his shoulders. I could feel the way he held my head closer to him, fingers buried in my hair. The moment his blood hit my tongue all of my thought was lost. He was so indescribably sweet that my brain couldn't wrap around the amount of pleasure I was in. My own euphoria was incomprehensible, and the only word I could think of was more. I wanted more of him, I needed more of him— all of him. And yet my arms pushed me off of him on their own, reluctantly I let him go.

The sight of him was beautiful. Orange hues painting his skin, blood flowing in smooth, rhythmic pumps from his vein, eyes captivating even through the smudged black liner. I pressed my hand firm against the wound, still straddling his lap from what we've done. Something in me knew that things would work out. That this wasn't some horrible mistake.

I could see on his face that he knew it too.

THIS WAS SO BAD IM SORRY💀 i had a vision right but i couldn't encapsulate it without multiple parts and we are Not having another beware situation — like and reblog pleasw😢🙏

#fanfic #ao3 #x male reader #reader insert #writing #angst #ftm reader #male reader #batman x male reader #batman x ftm reader #vampire reader #dc x male reader #batman x reader #battinson x reader #battinson x male reader #bruce wayne

[animentality]

sometimes i have a normal day and then some days i remember the bizarre narrative decision in steven universe where they decided rose quartz is pink diamond actually, and she just pretended to die so that she could be like Marie Antoinette, and play peasant?

why did she do that?

she basically killed a shit ton of people for no reason. she ESCALATED a war that didn't need to be escalated.

the diamonds wouldn't have blown up earth if she was on it???

i don't understand how simply coming out and saying hey i am pink diamond and i am turning against you is somehow not a viable option???

like girl, they'd fight you or whatever, but they probably wouldn't outright murder you.

or use a massive bioweapon against all of your friends.

you'd have so much more power as a fucking diamond fighting too.

more gems would turn to your cause, because you'd have some legitimacy in their eyes.

plus it's bizarre because she had plenty of gems under her command that she could've turned to the crystal gem side???

like why would you split up your forces?

you have loyal slaves, i guess, and that's bad, but in a war...any ally is an ally.

you can deal with the moral repercussions of that later??

or again. lend your credibility as their diamond???

she is singlehandedly responsible for the cluster and the deaths/ mutilation of all of her friends and even enemies.

she traumatized pearl by forcing her to carry that secret with her.

she bubbled bismuth purely so that her cover wouldn't be blown.

she hurt garnet and amethyst by lying about her identity and letting every other rose quartz take the fall for her.

and for what?

for like no reason??? because she just wanted to have fun as a rose quarts???

she just made everything so much fucking worse.

ah.

i don't know wtf they were thinking.

rose quartz was a much more interesting person when she was a rebel.

making her a privileged little brat who just caused misery across the galaxy for her own amusement...and then still calling her good...just bizarre.

very weird.

#steven universe

[banschivs]

It isn’t just Nix, Evelyn, and Lilac’s matching pale pink ruffled bohemian dresses that are the center of envy at Azaleafest, but Nix’s new kicks. Before they piled the kids in the car and left Gotham for Hamilton, she was gifted white Valentino Garavani Open Disco wedge sneakers with platinum finish studs on its pink band. The high-low style of Nix’s tiered dress showcases them.

Sayen House and Gardens’ secluded oasis boasts over two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand blooms: azaleas, foxgloves — Ivaylo’s reached from his father’s arms to pinch one, rhododendrons, dogwoods, pink valley blossoms, yellow forsythias, spicebushes, and many others. Foliage splatters around its boundless shaded paths that city-dwellers such as them could easily get lost in…though Yellowcake might guide their way back by sniffing out the food trucks. Lilac takes off with Domino after her sister toward a white trellis bridge that could only otherwise be found in a Monet painting. Evelyn’s squatted to point out a bullfrog on a lily pad. Beachy blonde hair falls in heavy waves over her shoulders once she tries poking her head between balustrades to get a better look.

Before Ivaylo degloves one of the countless ‘candy mountains’ or gets stung by a bee, Joker leans to the left and grips Nix’s tousled hair at its roots. There’s probably extensions sewn in that he should mind, but the King Charles Cavalier Spaniel puppy in the same arm as their son has begun squirming. 

Holding a smile against her cheek’s highest point, Joker noses her face and teases, “Not too bad right, Mrs. Fleck?” // HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY, NIX!!!!

The further they walk from the clustered village of food trucks, the clearer the clove-like scent of freshly bloomed azaleas pervades the air. Dappled sunlight filters through tender birch leaves where those pallid branches have grown in wide arcs across the waterway. The girls' blonde heads are highlighted by the same speckled illume beneath the vault of trees. She admires the scene from behind her sunglasses, canting her head so that she meets her husband's cossets and he'll feel how the sharp apples of her cheeks swell for a toothy smile.

She's doesn't need to wind Yellowcake's leash about her arm. The too-curious mutt is seldom on a long line, particularly when any number of scents or sights could lure him away from them. He seems to mourn the distance between the family and the Twisted Steaks truck — and the cheesesteak pretzel he'd been fortunate enough to be hand-fed titbits of just moments prior.

Nix chews on her bottom lip and gifts her husband a girlish giggle that predictably becomes a snort. She doesn't care enough to disguise the noise, knocking her head back instead so that she can steer herself into a kiss they both hum into. The new and gifted platform sneakers give her three more inches on him, but Arthur never seems to mind. He does worry for their daughters by the water, however, and is first to draw back so that he can catch them in his eye.

Lilac lets out one of those impish giggles, right through clenched teeth as the bullfrog leaps from his shelf and into the cool pond water. Evelyn's quick to fold her fingers under Domino's harness in case he too thinks himself an amphibian, but all three of them remain perched at the bridge's vertex. Nix slips her phone from Arthur's trouser pocket, and snaps a still of the three of them in the sunshine. It would appear manufactured were it not for one of Lilac's long pigtails wafting her in the face.

" I love it. " Nix finally says, caught part-way to a dream. Ivaylo echoes her sentiment with a triumphant cry, a flower he'd pilfered wielded in his tight fist. His mother snorts again, checks on the hellhound who's finally decided to keep pace, then flashes her teeth at the one-year-old in Arthur's arms. She jokes, " Almost as much as that, Wolfboy. " with a crinkled nose and broad grin, careful to avoid the puppy who'd nip her nose given half a chance.

When her arm slips around Arthur's waist, she curls her fingers into his shirt as if she could possibly burrow beneath and cold-weld. " I love you. Stupid-much, like, " As she blunders for words, her eyes roll to the sky. A scant cloud cover bedecks that blue canvas. " My brain is mashed potato right now. It's perfect. "

#jokethur #wow i can't believe he won just about everything #actually i can but you get my point #happy mothers day nixie-noo!!!!!!!

[sempsimps]

undertaker x reader

this is mostly gender neutral, but using the female body parts for the good stuff, ya know

actual text i had before writing this;

me: gonna be real i want undertaker to raw dog me in a coffin and then give me one of those fucking biscuits

bestie: i- holy shit. real

SO THIS IS THAT LMAO there we go literally that, but the new season got me re watching the whole of black butler and thinking of unholy shit (the things I would do in Sebastian's confession box oof) anyway that's a little off topic and i just aaaa with this new season it's so good and ill definitely be making like 2 at least on Gregory violet so stayed tuned for that but ANYWAY WHAT YOU ACUALLY CAME HERE TO READ NOW

Warnings:

He's kinda creepy (but we love that about him)

Mentioned fitting in a coffin (is that even a warning)

Undertaker is a warning as he is

If your cluster phobic get out

You fell into a coffin dumbass (with a hint of cliché writing)

Pussy eating (oh no the horror- actually with him probably)

Some light cuts they bleed a little (made by man's acrylics)

Bites hickeys scratches (a part masochist wet dream)

You actually don't finish because of him being a tease and other people

is it considered necrophilia becuse he's dead?? idfk shower thought leave me be

it was a weekend, and the servants convinced you to come into London town for the day as well as your sister, but as they got closer to the destination you wanted to go, to you strayed from the pack and headed into the undertakers shop, to see him might as well since your free today, and the others were busy shopping.

Honestly, it was a match made in hell, as the earl described it. you were into the strange and unusual, and undertaker is the very definition of idiosyncratic. you worked with ceil on the police as an allies, and that's how you two solved many things. yall had connections beforehand anyway, ceil is like the little brother you never had, and you treat him just like that, especially when it came to his betrothed, your sister. but in his defence, he brought you to the undertaker. Ceil was trying and failing to make the undertaker laugh, so he brought you in from waiting outside, and from one joke, he was cackling. and so whenever the Earl wanted his Information, he would bring you along becuse it seemed like he only liked your jokes, and honestly how could you complain, some one actually laughing that's a first, so ill take the win. but undertaker was equally pleased by this, he couldn't describe the attraction he felt, his heart was long cold and dead, but the little dark light the Earl brought to his shop was enough to get him to question again, but you wear merely mortal and he shouldn't get attached not after last time.

walking around the dark shop, it was more empty than usual as it was completely closed on a Sunday, which is kinda ironic thinking about it. the only bits of lights that guided my way were slowly dying candles, and further in the store there was less and less, of that comforting yellow glow fading quickly, i was calling out for him quietly, still looking around despite the strain on my eyes. i assumed he wasn't here, maybe out, i took a look around, noticing a back room. 'huh, that's new but i guess ive never stayed to long' hollering for the strange man once, more as i stumbled through the dark. my foot caught on something wooden on the floor, and i fell right into one of the many coffins, putting my hands and knees out to stop the fall. i felt something plush under me. I did indeed fall into a wooden create. my eyes finally adjusted to the room, and the panic set it. 'oh my fucking god, im on top of undertaker' my limbs barely didn't touched his body, my knees either side of his waist, and my hands at the side of his head, in his long hair. 'oh fuck fuck shit, this is bad' he was asleep some fucking how, his chest slowly rose and descended in an easy rhythm, a tiny snore escaping every few breathes he looked peaceful, and not like a menace like he usually did. 'This would be cute. If i wasn't right over him.' my eyes traced the scars once more. 'god, that neck one is so biteable.' i took in a deep breath, and slowly picked up my left foot, raising it higher than needed so i don't make contact with the wood, i slowly lowered my foot searching for the ground, making a soft thud as i found the floor. next would be my right hand, and this slowly turned into the worlds quietest twister, i started to turn my body backwards so i could lay on the floor to escape. getting my hand up in the air, and I balanced on one knee and hand to get out. I started to bend out, but my hip lightly grazed the side, and then in in a flash, an arm wrapped around the top of my hip and right wrist. It was so sudden i let out a surprised squeak.

"Hello dearie"

One half closed fluorescent green eye shining in the dark room, and I quickly panic to explain myself.

"I am so sorry! this isn't what it looks like, I swear"

"Hehe, I'm quite aware, I knew you were falling, but not that fast. hehe"

"What? oh, that was a bad pun... but if you knew why, didn't you move? Or at least tell me you were awake"

he kept giggling softly, shaking my body as well as his.

"Oh believe me, my dear, it was near impossible to keep up the act, when you look like that, my i might just injure myself laughing"

I took a second to remember how I looked, right hand up in the air, and right foot out of the wooden box, barely keeping me stable was one knee next to undertakers waist, and my left hand in his hair. if it wasn't for his arm around me, I would of fallen over. but the grip he had on my left wrist was unusual I could feel his nails lightly scratch my skin 'wowzah that's a thought' he giggled a little.

"Hehe, my what a face your pulling there"

"Well, could you help me get uh unstuck from this?"

(insert a totally seamless paragraph smoothly going into the smut)

Here I was half naked with my legs on undertakers shoulders he's kneeling down leaning over face near my pussy breathy giggles sending small shocks through me as the breath made me twitch in anticipation the situation becoming indescribable.

"My my look at you dear hehe I could just eat you up. I knew you'd fit in my coffin"

His tongue came out at the end of that sentence and licked my clit, my body thrusted towards him without my brain catching up to actions. his hands opened my thighs, nails digging into my skin, making light cuts at the grip, specks of blood appearing, the sting feeling like fire, my legs edging to close around his head

" Hehe. Come on, don't be shy. I won't bite unless you want me to . Hmm, how about we test it"

With that, he leaned over and harshly bit my inner thigh. His teeth were kinda sharp at the K9s, adding to the pain that was building my pleasure. I let out a soft moan, my hands scratching the wooden box, gripping the plushness underneath me that confirmed his suspicion instantly.

"My, my, you liked that more than I thought interesting"

Pulling my legs further up to get closer, his mouth wonders, his tongue working over the blood lightly licking and his teeth gripping into my flesh, he detaches from making a large hickey laughing.

"Well, would you look at that come on pretty things shouldn't cry hehe those tears preserve your beauty, my dear, oh how those marks suit you"

soon he was back at it again his tongue swirling in me and my moans echo from his coffin he kept on giggling the sensation adding so much pleasure the feeling of his nails reaching across my skin before finding my clit the slow movement making me go wild he was being a complete tease about this. he starts slow speeding up and then leaving, going back to licking my hole that was leaking with arousal, gathering the taste on his lips.

"You taste like the finest sweet my doll. mhh, smell devine as well"

"Please stop teasing me~"

"hehehe, as you wish, my dear"

his teeth touched my clit, and i bucked into his face at the masochistic contact, i felt him smirk at the movment, and he bagan to properly eat my pussy out his nose bumping into the delicious sweet spot, as his tounge delved deeper, his skillful hands moved to my clit, he slowly made circles around it, increasing the speed every so often, still teasing but making me body hover on the edge. I was so close he could feel it. My legs closed around his head, ankles locking as I started to shake rapidly approaching my orgasm but as quickly as it came, he stopped. I whined, and undertaker chuckled, voice lower now.

"Ah doll, if I let you continue, you'd be embarrassed to righ to heaven your phantom friends are here"

My heavy breathing evened out, and I slowly released him from my strong hold. he gently placed my legs down, undertaker stood out of the coffin and passed my clothes that I had on. Before grabbing a biscuit, putting it in my mouth, then grabbing the lid of the coffin, placing it over me. 'wait, what the fuck?' I sighed crunching on the biscuit, taking it as an opportunity to get dressed and fix my hair. I was still shaking from me being so close to cumming, then i closed my eyes. it was quite in the coffin, dark of course, but cool, a really good thing to sleep, in be it a nap or eternity. but coming back to reality, I knocked on the coffin lid, and the undertaker was quick to use his boots to kick it open carefully. The candles that suddenly appeared blinded me for a second. I slowly sat up, shaking a little. All I could hear was the deadpan of ceils voice ringing in the shop. They must have guessed I was here.

"Undertaker, what is the meaning of this? Why do you have one of my allies in one of your coffins?"

"Ahaha Oh, don't worry, little lord, I can assure you they are far from dead if you were thinking so"

".... are you okay your shaking?"

It was my sister who asked me, I was going to respond before undertaker chuckled, putting another dog bone biscuit in my mouth with a pat to the head, offering a hand to help me out which i took, my legs wobbling a little from the loss of blood in them. At this time, I realised Sebastian was giving undertaker a look as well.

"Well, that was quite the luagh hope to see you again soon maybe I'll fit you in your own coffin"

He wiped away a fake tear and bid goodbye from his shop. The other three people looked at me, and I just shook my head with a "I'm not getting into that" look, we all walked out of the shop and carried on with our day but I missed the contact of the strange man.

Okay so I finally finished this jesus christ it took like 3 days to do this but I'll have more on the way for black butler so I'm working on that ASAP anyway sorry if my writing sucks :)

#black butler undertaker #black butler #kuroshitsuji #black butler shinigami #undertaker

[taizi]

let me steal this moment from you now

@officiallyasl 2022 day 7; canon divergence

read on ao3

part one of three; 

(next)

x

Luffy falls mid-step.

It’s so sudden that Ace doesn’t notice right away. He runs a few more paces before he realizes the wheezing breaths by his shoulder are gone. And when he spins around, searching the mass of bodies packed in around him, squinting through smoke and grit and flashes of gunfire, he’s expecting to find his brother drawn into a skirmish or cut off by an opportunistic marine.

Ace finds him on the ground instead. Just lying there, like all the life blew clean out of him.

It’s the scariest thing he’s ever seen—scarier even than the moment Luffy appeared at the Marineford in the first place. Ace’s heart turns to solid stone. He's never been less graceful, the way he scrambles back, little tongues of flame licking off his skin as he goes.

“Hey, hey,” he says, getting his hands under Luffy’s shoulders and hauling him up. “This is no time for a nap, kid.”

His brother’s head lolls back, limp and unresisting. It’s literally like something out of a nightmare. Ace’s brain stops working, right there in the absolute chaos of an active warzone, and the clutch of his hands tightens. He can feel the air around him get super-heated as he starts to fully lose his mind.

“What the fuck,” Ace whispers, and snaps his head up when someone approaches at a run—that Ivankov person his brother showed up with, who looks horrified at Luffy’s prone sprawl but not at all surprised. Ace zeroes in on them as someone with information, and Iva’s step falters under Ace’s undivided, probably wild-eyed stare. “What the fuck happened to him?”

“Ace, you can’t just sit there,” someone else shouts. It sounds like Vista, daring to split his attention from his duel with Mihawk in order to scream sense in Ace’s general direction. “You have to go now.”

But what actually brings him out of what is shaping up to be a truly historic meltdown is the tiny flutter under his hand—a pulse. Luffy’s juggernaut heart is still beating, weak and unsteady but proof of life all the same. That’s all Ace needs.

He jerks into motion, hauling Luffy’s body up with him. It’s like muscle memory. How many times has he carried his baby brother around on his back? From an angry mob, even? Easily hundreds. They’re old hat at this.

“Yeah,” Ace is saying, like a crazy person, “yeah, we gotta go, Lu. You just—you just hang tight, and I’ll bail you out again, like I always do. That’s my job, huh? Gotta pay you back for this mad-cap rescue of yours anyway.”

Luffy doesn’t answer, but the hot puffs of his breath against Ace’s neck are answer enough. Ivankov is still nearby, and looks torn between pity and a sense of grief that Ace cannot begin to deal with the implications of right now.

Behind him, Pops is holding what might as well be half of the entire Marine army at bay. The rest of Ace’s family is clearing the way for him as best they can, but there is still the odd sword to dodge, a sudden cluster of gunfire to roll away from. Adrenaline carries him forward. The wharf is within sight, so close he can taste the salt even through the acrid smoke clogging the air.

That bastard Akainu is shouting something, but Ace doesn’t catch it. His entire world has narrowed into two points of focus. His two treasures. Luffy and the sea. His brother and the open arms of absolute freedom.

The ships are not even two dozen feet away. Barely more than a handful of running steps. Ace has a moment to think, deliriously, We made it.

And then a blast of heat sears the air behind him. On all sides, nakama are knocked clean off their feet, and the sudden crush of falling bodies has Ace tumbling down, too. He loses Luffy in all the chaos and he shoves Izou and Marco off of him, searching wildly for that familiar straw hat, that bright yellow vest.

There—blinking muddy brown eyes, trying to push himself up on shaking arms—Luffy. It’s such a relief to see him awake that Ace loses a second of reaction time to sheer relief.

And then a group of opportunistic soldiers seize that moment, capitalizing on his obvious disorientation, and spill towards him with their swords raised. Behind them, Akainu is approaching at a run.

“Motherfuckers!” Ace snarls, digging his hands into the stone beneath him, leaving scorched grooves behind.

And then, in a literal sense, he raises Hell.

Izou shouts and rolls away from him. He can see Marco’s blue flames out of the corner of his eye, protecting their nakama from the inferno.

Ace feels like a wild animal. He feels like one of the jungle creatures he grew up with on Mt Colubo. The big cats and bears and crocodiles had as much of a hand in raising him as the bandits did. They taught him how to tear survival out of the world with teeth and claws.

By the time he had the Spades, Ace knew how to survive the human way—with cleverness and charisma and no shortage of help from kind-hearted strangers. By the time he was folded into Pops’ family, he was practically tamed, even accounting for all his screaming attempts on the giant yonko’s life. A smile was just a different manner of baring your teeth.

So he knows, in the back of his mind, that his friends are slightly taken-aback by him. He just doesn’t have the capacity to care at the moment.

He tears through every single body between him and his brother the way the harpy eagles back home would rip apart smaller birds for a meal, so angry that sparks fly off his skin with every move. And he runs his mouth the whole time.

“You put your filthy fucking hands anywhere near him and I’ll rip them off and feed them to you, you puke-faced piece of shit! You want to try me, asshole? I was putting bitches like you in the hospital when I was eight!”

It’s like he’s back in Gray Terminal. It’s like he’s ten years old again and the world is on fire. Only it’s not Bluejam holding Luffy’s life on the line, it’s Akainu, standing over his little brother with a magma fist at the ready, sparing a moment for some self-righteous monologue about good versus evil or whatever bullshit, and Ace feels what’s left of his rationality burn and burn and burn away.

He’s not close enough. He’s not going to make it. Even if he managed to shake off the soldiers in front of him and just threw his whole body at full-speed between Luffy and Akainu to take the blow, he wouldn’t get there fast enough. He doesn’t have enough time. He’s going to lose another brother, only this time it’s going to happen right in front of his eyes, from seven—five—three feet away.

He’s ten years old again and learning what grief is. He’s ten years old and all that’s left of Sabo is the letter in his hand and a shared dream and the promise that Ace will look after their silly baby brother while he’s gone.

“DON’T TOUCH HIM!” Ace screams. It’s pure desperation. It’s the last human thing he’ll ever say if Luffy dies here.

He’s not prepared for it to somehow work. The soldiers around him fold like paper, dropping to the ground. Even Akainu stumbles. It’s not much—it’s barely anything—but it’s enough. Akainu’s killing blow doesn’t land fully, only drags across Luffy’s chest instead of punching through it. It burns away all the skin there and Luffy cries out. In the next second, Jimbei has scooped Luffy off the ground and one of the Shichibukai is up in Akainu’s face, her fair features twisted with rage. Ace’s nakama have peeled away to the wharf. It’s enough.

With one last mighty heave of his naginata, Pops gives them the opening they need. And then, because today is a day of unexpected arrivals, Shanks appears next to him as if plucked out of thin air.

The Red-Hair pirates’ entrance puts the Marines on the back foot. It gives Ace’s family a real chance to get the hell out of here alive.

The ships are readied to sail. Jimbei bundles Luffy gently into Ace’s arms. Ace holds him, trying to remember how to be a person, and has a terrible moment of indecision.

His nakama pile onto the Moby and he doesn’t follow. He’s frozen. He knows they’ll be pursued, probably to the ends of the earth. With the sheer amount of resources already expended and the entire world watching, the World Government has too much to lose. They won’t just let him go. Ivankov said Luffy needed treatment, but he won’t be able to get it if they’re running for their lives. He won’t be safe.

I don’t know what to do, he thinks, his heart racing double-time, adrenaline bitter in the back of his throat, his brother heavy in his arms. The armada is beginning to set sail, ships pulling away one by one. He’s bringing almost certain doom down on whichever vessel he boards. His friends are waiting. Luffy needs help. I don’t know what to do.

Through the smoke, he sees a glimmer of color in the ocean. He turns his head in time to watch a submarine surface.

The sea spills off the smooth sides in a thundering rush and then a water-tight hatch swings open. A young man steps onto the small deck, crossing all the way to the rail in quick strides. He has dark eyes and tattoos and kind of an air of walking tragedy. The Jolly Roger painted on the sub is vaguely familiar, but Ace has no idea who the fuck this guy is or what he’s doing here, the very last place a pirate with no stake in the war ought to be.

It’s like a moment of pure absurdity. Ace is beginning to think he might have snapped in Impel Down.

Then the strange pirate calls out, “Bring Strawhatter to me—I’m a doctor!”

Ace is running across the wharf without another thought. A hand catches his arm before he can leap off the edge onto the submarine, and he turns with his teeth bared, but it’s Marco. Exhausted, bloodied Marco, who looks both tired of Ace’s shit and unrelentingly fond of him at the same time, who just fought in a war for him and threw his whole body into protecting Ace’s brother when he couldn’t protect himself.

He reaches around Luffy and puts something in Ace’s pocket. When it squirms disconcertingly for a minute, Ace realizes it must be a baby snail phone. Then he squeezes Ace’s arm and steps away.

“Okay, crazy,” Marco says, every bit as though nothing between them has changed, “now you can go.”

Behind Marco, Whitebeard is still alive. Shanks is holding the outcome of the war in his bare hands. Luffy makes a quiet sound of pain against Ace’s throat, barely even lucid anymore, and the pirate on the submarine shouts, “Come on!”

Ace has known from a young age that survival is a stolen good. He’s never known it to be given freely, every single person around him trying to push into his hands, willing him to grasp it.

He’s always clutched at life stubbornly, selfishly, outright refusing to die because he made two seperate promises to two separate brothers and they’re more important than his spite or pride. He’s a child again, running back into the wilderness that raised him, plunging headlong into the unknown because fear is for people who can afford it.

“See you later,” he tells Marco. He doesn’t have time to say everything he needs to say.

He holds Luffy tighter and takes the leap.

#aslbrothersweek2022 #one piece #op #asl bros #opfic #portgas d ace #monkey d luffy #marineford arc #my writing #thunder in our hearts

[thenerdyfanwriter]

Heyo! Can you write a s3 Robin x reader where reader is a Russian spy in training but hates it and ends up helping the scoop troop and falling for Robin ( reader almost kills them the first time they meet.) but ends up dying in the end because the Russians found out. Thanks :)

Untitled

Word Count: 2299

Pairing: Robin Buckley x reader

Synopsis: Robin finally found the person she wanted forever, but some things aren’t meant to last.

Warnings: Angst

A/N: I changed some of what happened in season 3. Some things changed were Steve already knew Robin was gay, Dustin and Erica didn’t go with Steve and Robin, and Steve, Robin, and Y/n are the one to destroy the gate under Starcourt. Also, I wrote the ending while crying. Hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

-------------------

I haven’t been in America for long. My parents brought me here from Russia for some type of training about 6 months ago. I’m not exactly sure where I am. They haven’t told me much.

My parents don’t seem to be around any more. I’m not even sure they are still alive. If they are dead, I don’t think I’ll miss them much. They weren’t in my life very much in the first place.

I’m currently getting ready for my second training session of the day. If I’m honest, this session is my favorite. They told me I’m doing some kind of security training today. As I’m walking to the training room, I notice the door to security cracked.

I peek my head in and notice a lot of security camera footage. One of them is for a place called Scoops Ahoy. I watch the footage from the door and notice a boy and girl. The boy seems a few years older than me but the girl looks around my age. She has short hair that bounces as she walks. I see her name tag. It reads “Robin”.

I have a weird feeling in my chest as I watch her. She is very cute. Before I get caught, I continue going to my training room. When I get there, I notice there's a gun on a table in the middle of the room. 

As I walk towards the table, someone starts talking from the speakers. “Grab the gun. Carefully eliminate all threats without getting injured.” 

I picked up the gun. It already has ammunition in it. I see a map on the wall with 4 red dots clustered together near the elevators.

With the gun, I make my way towards where the red dots were. The elevator is in view but I don't see anyone. I make my way to the elevator.

Sitting next to the elevator security sensor is a stand with a badge on it. I hold the badge up to the sensor and the elevator door opens. I hide behind the wall with the gun drawn while the door opens all the way.

I peek around the corner. I can’t see anything at first glance, so I slowly make my way into the elevator. When I make it about half way inside, I spot someone crouched behind a box. 

I walk around the box so that I’m behind them. “ Slowly stand up and turn around.” I tell them. They raised their hands in the air while getting up. “ Turn around.” I tell them again. As they turn, I recognize them from the security room.

“You are Robin, correct?” She looked much prettier in person. She stared at me looking confused. 

“Yes, I am.” She said. I was about to reply but I heard something behind me. Before I got the chance to turn around, I was hit in the head with something.

Robin Pov

“Steve, did you have to hit her on the head?” I whisper-yelled at Steve. The Russian girl laying passed out in front of me somehow knows who I am.

“She was holding a gun to you. She was probably going to shoot you, too!” Steve yelled back.

“She wasn’t going to shoot me.” I told him. I looked back down at the girl laying on the floor. Her hair was in a neat bun on top of her head. If I’m being honest, she was very attractive for someone who wanted to kill me.

“Just because you find her attractive doesn’t mean she isn’t going to kill us Robin.” Steve leaned over her and grabbed the gun she was holding. He lifted her up next so that she was leaning against a box. When Steve let go of her, she started to wake up.

As her eyes opened, she looked around with confusion written on her face. “ Where am I?” She asked in a thick Russian accent.

“How do you know who I am?” I asked her. She looked up at me and her eyes went wide.

“You are from the security video. You work at an ice cream shop in the mall. You are also very attractive.” Her cheeks turned red when she said the last part. ”I am Y/n. What are you Americans doing down here?” She stood up from her spot on the floor and glanced between Steve and I.

Your Pov

 Apparently Americans can be smart. Steve and Robin ended up here after discovering a secret code. They were looking for some type of gate with a monster apparently. I know what they are talking about. We have a team of scientists trying to open a gate to another dimension.

“I will help you get out of here but I will not take you to the gate.” I told them. They looked at each other like they were silently coming up with a plan.

“Fine, but you have to come with us and tell us what's happening down here.” Robin said, looking back at me.

“Ok, deal.” I go outside the elevator to where I left the key card and grab it. Stepping back into the elevator, I slide it over the security box and the elevator starts going up. 

Once the elevator stops, I open the door again and we leave. “ Where are we going?” I asked them.

“We’re going to my house.” Steve said. 

After arriving at Steve’s house, he went to his room to get us all a change of clothes. “So, um, do you really find me attractive?” Robin asked me as we sat in Steve’s living room.

“Yes, I do. It’s fine if you do not find me attractive as well. I understand.” I said.

She gulped then looked at me and said, “ I do, um, find you attractive as well.”

“Ok.” I said. I got up and started walking towards the kitchen. “Are you hungry? I can make something.” I yelled so that both Steve and Robin could hear me. I heard Steve running down the stairs.

“I’ll just order some pizza. Don’t worry about cooking.” Steve said once he reached me. “ Here’s some clothes. You can change in the bathroom around the corner.” He handed me some clothes then walked to where Robin was.

I took the clothes and went to change. When I was done, I went back to the living room where Robin and Steve were sitting.

“Can you tell us what is going on under the mall?” Steve asked.

I tell them everything I know, which isn’t much. “ I can help you guys get what you want from the Russians if you want.” I offer. 

“We’d appreciate it.” Robin said. “Steve, can you show us the guest room? It’s getting late.” 

“Yeah, sure.” Steve said. He got up and headed towards the stairs. Robin and I followed him. Steve got to the top of the stairs then led us down a hallway. “ This is the guest room. There’s only one bed, but the lounge sofa has a pullout.” He told us and walked away.

“I don’t think Steve likes me very much.” I said to Robin. I walked over to the bed and sat down. Robin came and sat next to me.

“It takes a while for Steve to warm up to people.” She said. “ If it makes you feel any better, I like you already.”

I looked at her and smiled. “That does make me feel better actually.”

“So, do you think maybe when this is all over, would you like to go on a date with me?” Robin asked me.

“Of course I would.” I told her. “Maybe we can go to the cinema, I think it’s called?”

“Yeah that would be perfect.” She said. “I’m getting tired. Do you want to share the bed or should I sleep on the pullout?” 

“We can share. The bed looks big enough.” I told her. We laid down and went to sleep.

The next morning, I could hear Steve downstairs walking around. I got up and looked around. Robin must already be up as well since I didn’t see her.

I walk downstairs and see Steve and Robin sitting in the kitchen. “ Good morning.” I tell them. I look at the clock on the wall and see it's almost 8 am. “ If we’re going to break into the facility, we should leave soon.”

They look at each other and nod. “Ok,” Steve said, “I’m going to go start the car then.” He got up and left. It was now just Robin and I.

“So, um, did you sleep well last night?” Robin asked. She looked so pretty first thing in the morning. My eyes drift over her face and land on her lips. They look very kissable right now.

“I slept very well. Would it be weird if I kissed you right now?” I asked Robin. I took a few steps closer to her. Her eyes grew wide in surprise. “Nevermind. Forget that I asked.” I started stepping away from her.

“No, wait.” She said in a rush. Robin grabbed my cheeks with both hands and smashed her lips to mine. “Sorry,but I’ve been wanting to do that since last night.”

“It’s ok. I liked it.” I said as my smile grew wide.

Robin looked like she was about to say something but was interrupted by the sound of Steve honking his car horn. With a sigh, Robin dropped her hands and said, “I guess we should go then.” She started towards the car before I could say anything.

When we arrived at the mall, we sat in the car for a minute. “I still have the security badge so it should be easy to get inside.” I told them. “We don’t have any guns so it will be hard to get past the security once we get to the basement.”

“I have some guns in the trunk.” Steve said.

“Ok. We should head in then.” I said as I got out of the car. Both followed after me.

Steve walked to the back of the car and opened the trunk. We each grabbed a gun and headed to the elevator in the back. “ You guys ready?” I asked with the key card in my hand ready to scan.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Robin said, looking at Steve.

“Let’s go then.” I scanned the card and the doors to the elevator opened. Walking into the elevator, I had my gun drawn in case there was anyone here this early. Once I saw there was no one in there, I signaled to the other two to get in the elevator. I scanned the card again and the elevator started going down.

Once the elevator reached the bottom, I glanced at Steve and Robin and scanned the card again, opening the door. I turned back to look at them, “ Ready?” I asked. They both nodded their heads.

We began walking down the long hallway. I know from living down here that there shouldn’t be anyone around until we get to the main part of the basement. Last night, they told me they needed to destroy the gate the scientists are making.

I stop and turn around to Steve and Robin. “ I have a plan. My room is around the corner. We go in there and change into the training uniforms. After that, we head to the lab where the gate is.”

“Sounds good.” Robin said.

“Let’s do it.” Steve glanced at Robin and I.

We made our way to my room where we all changed into the spare uniforms I have. When we were done, I peeked into the hallway to make sure it was all clear. “There’s no one out here. We should be able to make it to the lab without being seen.”

I walked out of the room with Robin and Steve following me. We made our way to the door that led to the lab without being seen. I opened the door and looked inside. 

“ Most of the scientists are either not here or are in the secure lab.” I told them. I walked into the room, towards the secure lab with Robin and Steve following. “ I can’t promise this is going to go easy once I open the door.” I warned.

I unlocked the door with the key card and pushed it open. There weren’t many people there, only about 10 or so. I glanced at Steve and Robin to signal them to be ready when I start shooting.

I walked into the room and started shooting. With the attention on me, Robin and Steve ran to where the gate was. I kept shooting until they came back. Robin grabbed me as she ran by and I ran with them. 

We almost made it to the elevator before security caught up with us. I slowed down and started shooting at them. When we finally reached the elevators, I unlocked the door. Steve and Robin both ran inside, hiding against the walls.

Security was halfway down the hallway now and closing in on us quickly.

“Robin, “ I yelled, grabbing her attention. “ Go to the cinema for me.” I told her.

I reached inside the elevator and scanned the card. When the door started closing, I threw the key card at Steve. 

“Don’t do this Y/n.” He said as he caught the card.

“Goodbye Steve and Robin.” I said as the door finally closed.

I turned around and started shooting at the security that was now standing a few feet away.

Robin Pov

I heard her start shooting after the door closed. As the elevator started moving, I heard her yell in pain before there was a loud thump.

I finally found someone and they were taken away from me too early.

A/N Part 2: Sorry it kinda strayed from the ask.

#stranger things imagine #stranger things angst #robin buckley angst #robin buckley imagine #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x y/n

[georgiapeach30513]

Ok so seeing how chris is turning into a very hot silver fox, how did Kitten „reacted” to her pretty boy Ran turning into silver fox (Ran ever the drama queen probably were ridiculous when he sees the grey in his beard)

Oh lawd!! So there is this theory that men who love a good meal from their women 😏 that their beard hair changes…that was the first sign of gray and he wasn’t a fan, until you could not keep your hands off of him.

🖤🖤🖤🖤

Yes, Sir, Captain

Summary:  Ransom isn’t loving his gray

Pairings:  Ransom X Reader

Rating:  mild

Warnings:  language, implied sexual activities, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  500

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

Desperate Love Masterlist

Neither of you were sure that the gray was what was causing you to be feral. Even though he was a bit insecure he was not complaining about the extra attention he was getting. Like the extra butt grabs and pinches. Randomly walking in his office just to sit in his lap, and kiss over his beard.

Ransom is a well groomed man, whether he shaves his beard or doesn’t, so when you walk in behind him, his towel hung low on his hips as he grooms his beard. Your hands slide down his chest going lower, until that towel falls off. Your hand cups his balls, and your lips softly kiss on his shoulders, and he makes the first comment about his gray.

“I’ve picked a few off my head,” you only moan, as you feel his cock harden in your hand. “I think I’m going to dye my beard though. Maybe. Kitten?”

You slowly start sinking to your knees, and when he gives a guttural whimper, you feel heat rush to your core. “Kitten? Woman? You listen to me before you finish what you’re doing. My god, do I want you to finish.”

“What is it baby?” you look up at him owlishly.

“Stop! I’m having a crisis.”

“Ran, what’s wrong?” knowing your husband you know this is going to be ridiculous.

“I’m getting old.”

“No you’re not.”

He huffs out a bit of air, “Easy for your to say, you’re still seven years younger.”

“Why do you think you’re getting old?”

“Do you see this?” He points at his beard, and then a small cluster of grays in his hair. “I’m gonna have to start dying my hair.”

It is then that you realize how much you love his peppering hair, that patch of gray in his beard, and you become a bit irritable thinking he’s going to cover it. “Don’t. You. Dare.”

“What?” your movements completely stop, and you square up with him.

“If you cover it up, I will quit riding your face in the morning.”

“What is happening?”

“I like it,” Ransom raises an eyebrow up looking at you, giving you a little smirk. “I like it a lot.”

“Is that what’s gotten into you?” now you’re the one looking at him confused. “You have been very horny lately. You always are. But like…midday blow jobs. I wake up to you just riding on my abs, and when my eyes open you’re crawling up to my mouth. Is the gray making you a sloppy little slut?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. At least,” you pause thinking a moment. “At least I don’t think so.”

Placing his hands on your shoulders, he adds a bit of pressure, “How about, you show me how much you like the gray.”

“Yes, sir, captain,” you smile sinking to your knees, “As long as you remember how it makes me soaked,” just to check, his fingers go up under his shirt, as he feels how drenched you are. As soon as he adds his fingers into his mouth, you show him exactly how much you love the gray.

Masterlist

#desperate lives #desperate lives au #desperate verse #da au #dau #da au ask #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #dilf!ransom drysdale x reader #dilf!ransom drysdale

[justnerdy15]

what is love in the face of eternity?

wip: Heiress of the Night Bonus snippet between Anthony and Zhang. Note: this probably will not be included in the novel, but this would not leave me the fuck alone. so, published to the void of the internet it will be. (this is also like 90% dialogue)(long post, more under the cut)

“How do you do it?” Anthony asks, watching as Huan disappears around the corner, smooth voice echoing down the hallway.

Zhang raises an eyebrow at him, settling back into his chair. “Do what?” The New York skyline paints his office in a deep orange, casting shadows over his face.

“Love him,” Anthony replies. He swallows tightly. “How do you love him, but not turn him?”

Zhang hums, picking up the steaming cup of tea, and takes a delicate sip. He stares down into the swirling pale liquid, collecting his thoughts, before he sets the cup down with a sigh. “When I was first turned, I was afraid of what I was going to become. I had seen the jiangshi that had bitten me, a horrifying rotting corpse, with any semblance of its humanity gone. And I had feared that I would share its fate. But in those agonizing hours of my transformation, I saw something —“ He pauses, searching for the right words “— miraculous. There was silk wrapped around my finger, glowing a deep warm red, extending far beyond my vision, pulsating with each beat of my own dying heart. I watched it, fearing the moment the string would finally snap, until I finally succumbed to the venom.”

He stands, walking away from his desk to the towering bookshelves against the far wall, where a collection of photos cluster on one of the shelves. “When I woke up, no longer human, I couldn’t see the string, but I knew it was still there. That my destiny, despite my death, persisted.” Zhang looks back with bemused smile, in on some joke Anthony didn’t know, “Seventy-five years passed before I met Huan — Qiang in his first life — and when I saw him, I knew. I had finally met my destiny.”

His lips quirk into a wry grin. “He was the first true test of my discipline. It is easy to believe you have mastered control when you have not been confronted with your inner-most desire.”

A knowing look his way. “As I’m sure you are aware, Anthony.”

He feels like he’ll tell on himself regardless, so he chooses to remain quiet.

“I had ten years with him the first time around. A decade of companionship, a friendship that weathered the tides of war, that survived the heartache of lies and betrayal. I was sure that when the time came I would turn him and we would have eternity together, but —“

Zhang breathes in deeply, turning again to face the shelves, letting his hands wring together behind his back. “I had to leave for a hunt, to another settlement where I could feed without worry, and when I returned a sickness had come to the village, burning through them like fire through dry tinder, and he fell to the illness.”

“His mother and sister had already died a week before my return. His father and some other men had left to go find whatever help they could further south. And Huan was dying in his bed, alone and suffering.”

Zhang returns to his desk, sitting heavily in his chair, and his eye are red rimmed. “I wanted to turn him. I knew that we had time, if not much, to save him from death. But he refused. The death of his family, the destruction of his community, it was too much. He would not have been able to live — as it were — with the guilt of survival. How could I force him into an eternal life he did not want? How could I let the man I love die? How could I not?" Zhang breathes out heavily and lets his hands fall to his sides. His fingers twitch in some vague gesture. "He begged me to stay with him until he passed and promised that we would meet again. I did and it took him three more days to die.”

Anthony thinks of Evangeline. Of a dark alleyway and pooling blood on damp concrete. Of his own desperation to save her. Thinks of Lucia and Daniel, beautiful and doomed, setting the city ablaze.

“I was aimless, grief stricken, roaming the continent little more than a wounded animal plagued by its own existence. The string that was once a promise of unity became a mockery, an ever present reminder of my own failure, taunting me to join him the dark earth. I thought any chance of happiness was buried with him.” Zhang clears his throat, rolling his shoulders, and forces himself to relax in his chair.

“But the world and its magic works in mysterious ways.”

“How so?” Anthony asks, leaning forward on his elbows.

“You know, I spent eighty-six years wandering the continent when I finally decided to go back. For what, I had no idea, but I felt that it was time. I traveled to what is now the Gansu province, towards Tianshui, when I felt an intense urge to enter a small establishment. But it had been so long since I had been around humans, much less felt human myself, that I resisted that urge, but I allowed myself to look in through one of the windows. And that’s where I saw him.”

“Really?” Disbelief.

Zhang laughs. “Yes, really. He looked different, of course, a new name, a new face. But I knew, just as I did the first time, that it was him. And thus began the cycle. I find him. I love him. I lose him. Again and again and again. Sometimes I don’t even get to know him. By the time I find him, he’s in a relationship with someone else or he’s dying or perhaps has already died. But even then, I love him all the same.”

“Have you asked him? About turning?” Anthony asks.

“I’ve asked in every life I have been able to be a part of and it has always been a no.” Zhang gives a self-deprecating smile. “I’ve learned to enjoy the time that I have with him for however long that may be. Perhaps one day, in this life or the next, he will say yes. Until then, I will love him and ,when the time come, I will search for him again.”

#wip: heiress of the night #queer romance #my writing #is this sad? bittersweet? romantic? #all of the above? #vampires