#if you want to pay for your shit to be printed that fucking badly you can go to the library

[flamingo-writes]

Hi flamingo how are you? How are you with your leg pain since the move? Have you been resting? I hope so!

Well as always I leave you a mini request before starting the week ;)

What do you think that, reader is a not so well known singer ,who is starting out in the world of music and meets Hobie in one of their own performances when they are singing on stage.

hope you have a wonderful week tysm <3!

I’m not going to lie to you, I’ve had a bit of a writer’s block. I powered through it though. I thought of a million ways this could’ve played out and went for the one I liked the most. I hope you like it too, and I’m sorry for the late reply 😢 I rewrote this like three times help 😭 whenever I wanted to sit and write I ended up doing a lot of other things.

With A Little Help — Hobie x Reader

Title inspired by the song by the Beatles With A Little Help From My Friends. The bicycle thing is inspired after a real accident I had once, except I don’t play the guitar and but I did get hit on a freshly made tattoo 🥲

Warnings: cursing,

The moment you decided to start a band with your friends, you knew from the beginning it would go one of two ways.

You could either sign with a producer and basically sell yourself like whores. Somehow gaining a debt just by signing a piece of paper, and working an ungodly amount of hours just to pay your debt, and hope the fame you’ve gained actually helps you make money after the percentage the producing house gets. Becoming puppets for the producer to move around the way they want.

Or you could do everything yourself working with what you had. Recording wherever you found available –sometimes that place being your own room–, asking friends if you could borrow equipment or instruments. Asking for favours. Gathering coins your couch has been swallowing and hoarding for years to print a few hundred copies of posters announcing your next gig.

And out of the two, you knew perfectly well which one you wanted. One of them helped you maintain your freedom, which was exactly what your music spoke about. Gathering a small and loyal fanbase was relatively easy in the low underground bars. The punk scene, the alternatives, and the rock fans soon spread the word around their friends. Eventually, these same people started offering their help with equipment, a few bills for copies, even instruments. It was still a small fanbase, but it was more than enough and they were all somehow more helpful than most people

One day in particular, your guitar player gave you a call. To your nerves, you picked up your phone, furious.

“Where the hell are you?! You’re so late! We’re supposed to start playing in ten minutes!” You barked.

“Ye-yeah…About that…” Your guitar player said with an awkward chuckle. “You see, it’s a funny story…”

“Oh god, no…” You groaned.

“Listen. First of all I’m fine–”

“What the fuck does that even mean? Wait, shit, bruv, did something happen to you?”

“You see, this is where the story gets funny…” They said with an awkward giggle. “I was minding my own business, on my way to the bar. I was on my bike. Riding it, you know. When an old lady and a tiny ass dog appeared out of nowhere, from the corner. In an attempt to not run over either of them, I turned and there was a tree–”

“You can’t be serious…” You gasped, “you alright?”

“In the greater scheme of things, yes I am…But…I kinda hurt my wrist very badly…”

“God, I’m scared to ask…how badly…?”

“Uh, I don’t think my skin is supposed to look purple…And the lady I almost ran over is offering to drive me to the emergency room?”

“Shit. What do we do? Do we cancel—“

“No! Don’t! I don’t know. Improvise?”

“How? You’re our guitar player!”

“Go wild on the bass?”

“Fuck off!” You groaned, annoyed.

Hobie Brown was not far from there, hearing to actually both sides of the conversation through his enhanced hearing. Helping your drummer setting everything up.

“I think something happened to your guitar player, mate?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m hearing…” Your drummer said nervously.

“If you guys need help, I know how to play the guitar…I can sight read too, but if you give me a couple of minutes to look through your songs, it would be better…” Hobie said as your drummer’s face widened in surprise.

“Dude, seriously?”

“Yeah,” Hobie said, smirking confidently.

“The motherfucker broke–”

“We found a guitar player!” Your drummer interrupted, raising both arms in the air happily.

Hobie giggled and looked over at you. Your eyes remained wide and confused, wondering when the roller coaster of emotions was going to end. You knew him. You didn’t really, but you’d seen him around enough to recognize his face.

“Seriously?”

“Sure, why not?” He said, shrugging.

“Oh god, thank you! Thank you so much, mate!” You said happily, running your hands through your hair in relief, making Hobie chuckle.

“Call me Hobie,” He said with a cheeky smirk.

You introduced yourself, as well the rest of your band. As you discussed what t do for the set list, you insisted Hobie didn’t improve and sight read all of your songs, and instead settled for a set list made out of mostly covers from famous songs, and just leaving a few of your original songs distributed for Hobie to take a break from a hyper concentrated state.

As the anxiety was rising in your belly, about to make you puke a minute away from starting your gig, Hobie grabbed your shoulder, catching your attention.

“Hey, it’s going to be alright,” He said, trying to comfort you. “And if it blows, then what the hell? It’s not going to be the last time you play. That way you could always make a dramatic comeback and look even cooler,”

His words while making you feel less scared about it all, it did nothing for your nerves.

Although as soon as you started playing, the music consumed you. Playing with Hobie instead of your guitar player was simply different. Not that any of them was better or worse than the other, but the dynamics changed drastically. Despite not really knowing Hobie that well, the interactions on stage were fun, spontaneous, even comfortable, like you’d known him for way longer than just the last hour.

Hobie not only exchanged glances with you and walked over to you while playing his guitar, he also went over to your drummer. Sometimes jointing you for the choruses of the covers, or adding spontaneous riffs to guitar solos.

By the end of the gig, people were crazy, screaming, jumping around. As you grabbed the mic, covered in sweat and breathless you thanked them.

“We’d love to stay, but we actually have to go check out on our friend…” You chuckled. “Our guitar player had Ana vidente earlier today, and couldn’t play. We had the magnificent Hobie, here, helping us out!” You sighed. “Let me hear it for Hobie for being a real one!” The crown screamed and clapped, as Hobie smiled at you.

“Thank you for letting me help,” Hobie said, walking over to the mic and grabbing it. “Thank you guys as well!”

“Oh yeah. You guys made this very fun!” You said going back to the mic, your face bearing Hobie’s as he glanced at you with a smirk, “Have a good night, everybody!”

As you walked behind the stage, you grabbed a towel you had nearby and dried your face and hair.

“Good job out there,” Hobie said walking behind you.

“Thank you! It was all possible thanks to you!” You said looking up from your towel. “I’d love to stay and talk but…”

“Yeah, go check on your friend. You can buy me a beer some other time to return the favour,” He said with a cheeky smirk.

“Just one? An entire gig for just one beer?” You joked.

“Well, at least three,”

“Sounds like a deal,” you sighed, meeting his stare and biting your lower lip softly. Seriously, thank you…”

“My pleasure,” He said confidently, meeting your stare, as you noticed something in them sparking.

“See you around?”

“I hang out here an awful lot so, yeah,” He shrugged, putting his hands in the pockets of his vest.

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown #hobie x you #hobie x reader #hobie brown x female reader #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x you #hobie x y/n

[existential-angstt]

Pay Attention Please (P. 6) // (professor) Shane “Dio” Morrissey x Reader

Taglist: @lokanda​

You didn’t realize you two fell asleep until you were waking up beneath the heavy from that was- …….well, Dio. You two had fucked, you’d used his name. Surely at this point “Professor Morrissey” was completely decorative. He was not only still laying on top of you, completely naked and completely asleep- he was also still inside you. You felt a little jolt run through you at the thought he was still buried in you but you had to get up and pee like now. 

So, carefully, with no small amount of tact, you gently reached out to pull him out of you. He groaned softly in his sleep– he was so pretty when he slept. So peaceful. You gazed at him and scoffed very softly; you’d never realized his black hair wasn’t natural. At this closeness you could faintly see the very very beginnings of soft brown roots growing in. You wondered if, at his age, he’d have a little gray in his hair. That’d be hot.

You managed to slide out from under him (he was heavy- the word “lanky” sort of suited him, he was just so tall he weighed a ton) and pad softly out of the room, finding the bathroom next door. You did your business and padded back into the bedroom, greatly considering climbing back in and cuddling. But the photo album sitting out in the living room was tugging at your mind. So you grabbed the nearest garment to you on the floor– one of his button ups– and pulled it on, not bothering to button it at all. You padded out to the couch and sat down very delicately (it’d be a shame to leave any stains on the couch). 

You pulled the album into your lap like a relic and started at the beginning. You could tell from the pages there weren’t a ton of photos in here. Some of them were landscapes, places. Blurred shots of clubs, from what you could tell– just colored lights smeared across the print. But you found more of this young Dio, this mischievous rascal you could almost see in the man sleeping in the next room.

He looked so serious and even mean in most shots– like he was trying to scare you off from talking to him. Based on the pictures and that article you read (that felt like forever ago now) he seemed to be the leader of his little gang. Posse? Cult. 

You found the picture he’d sent you over text a while ago- and another really good one of him smiling. His whole face transformed when he smiled. It was one of the things that made you sort of fall for him because his smile was so rare. Like… he held onto it. Saved it for special occasions, like expensive wine. Movement from the bedroom doorway startled you and your head jerked up. 

He stood there in the doorway, still naked as the day he was born. Holy shit. You thought in your lust induced haze your mind had exaggerated the size of his cock– that you’d wanted him so badly that it had looked bigger than reality. Turns out your eyes had been working fine. You blushed slightly and looked up at him as he stood and regarded you, leaning into the doorframe and crossing his arms with a smug grin.

“You cheated,” he said, showing you that grin you had just been fawning over in his pictures. You grinned back. “I did not, there was nothing in the rules about me snooping for clues. It’s not my fault you left the answer lying around for anyone to find,” you said sassily, crossing your legs. His eyes roved over you shamelessly, lingering on your crossed legs. You felt your thighs squeeze together minutely but you let him look. His eyes softened a little, coming back up to meet yours. “So what now?” he said softly. He seemed to be looking to you for all the direction, let you decide where all this was headed. 

Your grin sort of melted away. You knew what he meant but… you didn’t have an answer. “Well….,” you glanced at the window. It was dark, late. You looked back up at him softly, uncrossing your legs and getting up. You padded over to him, standing close. “We could start with bed,” you said cheerfully, soft smile up at him. He seemed to relax just a little, letting out a soft breath and sagging a little against the door frame. 

You reached up to hold his face and kiss him simply because you could and that wasn’t true a few hours ago. Dio gave a small groan and kissed you back, his mouth moving against yours slowly. You felt his hands find your hips and start pulling back into the bedroom, one step at a time. 

A moment later you’d shed his button up and the two of you collapsed in bed, naked limbs tangled and close.

-

When you woke up again, you were alone. You touched his side of the bed– cold. He hadn’t been here for a while. You slid out of bed and padded into the apartment, looking around and noting all the clothes on the floor had been scooped up and set into a chair. But he wasn’t anywhere else to be found either. You did find a pot of coffee, still warm, and a small white Chinese takeout carton in the center of the counter. Sharpie on the top-

-D

You smiled smugly at it and slowly unfolded it- a muffin. You lifted it out with a soft grin and inspected it. It looked delicious– you took a bite– and groaned. Pumpkin… with a bit of brown sugar maybe? It was scrumptious. You hurried to pour yourself a cup of coffee to go with it and sat down for a nice quiet breakfast. 

There was a little bu-dump as Switch jumped up onto the counter and quickly came over to see what you had. You pulled your muffin away and petted her before breaking off a little bite and setting it down for her. She licked at it and purred at the affection. You checked the time– still a few hours before class. Long enough to run back to your dorm and clean up, have a nice shower and gather your school things. So, after finishing off your coffee and locking the door behind you, that was precisely what you did.

-

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful, save for the instances when what you did last night came rushing back to your mind and– well, your pussy. There were several times flashes of the previous night invaded your mind– his hand there, the feeling of him rutting into you, his soft warm breath, pulling his hair– and your insides did flip flops that would leave your clit throbbing for a few minutes. It was almost annoying actually but what it came down to was you craved more. 

You counted yourself both lucky and severely unlucky you didn’t have his class today. At least you’d have a fun time trying to think of an excuse for your roommate why you never made it home last night. 

“Uhhhhhhhhh-”

Well, you thought it would be fun. But in the moment your mind went blank.

“I got laid.”

Your roommate’s eyes widened and she squealed. “What?” Jen was a party girl and she’d been trying to get you to follow her out to frat parties all semester. “You need to get railed, relieve some of that stress– stop fantasizing about your damn Latin professor,” she’d joked many times.

“Well who was it??” She was so excited you almost hated to break the news and you offered her a face that was somewhere between a smile and a grimace. The look gave her pause.

“Y/n, who was it?” she said, a little worried now. Your expression only became increasingly pained. “What, was he like, ugly?” she made a face.

“No! No, god- he- he was so hot- Jen you wouldn’t believe the things this guy could do-”

“Well what’s this guy look like? Are you going out again?” 

You paused and bit your lip. The first part was easy. Slowly: “Tall… broad… dark hair, dark eyes…. Big hands…. Big everything-” 

“Ooooo!” she said, sitting down primly on her bed for details.

You paused again, stuck on the second part. “Honestly, I don’t know. I hope so. But it’s… complicated,” you said, looking up at her. “Complicated how? Wait, does he have a girlfriend you dirty slut? Oh, oh my god he totally does, doesn’t he-”

“No, no, no girlfriend that I know of-”

“Well what’s his major?” 

You paused again and glanced at her momentarily, thinking. “Linguistics,” you finally said lamely. Now it was Jen’s turn to pause, looking at you hard. 

“........Y/n…………..how old is this person? Exactly?” 

You gave her the same grimacey smile as before, knowing the cat was out of the bag.

“Y/N!!!!” she said dramatically, mouth falling open, “you DIDN’T-” You nodded, your teeth still bared in an uh oh expression. “I did.”

“Okay, okay I’ve finally gotta see a picture of this guy if you two have actually fucked now. Now, I really want to know what he looks like,” she said, arms crossed poutily. You pulled up the university staff page under the linguistics department (very practiced, like clockwork– lets just say this wasn’t your first rodeo finding his picture) and turned it around to her.

Jen didn’t have exactly the reaction you expected. She looked at him for a long moment, her eyebrows shooting up as she looked at the screen. “Okay…… okay…,” she said slowly. “To be honest I was going to roast the hell out of you for fucking an old Latin professor but… fuck.. He’s downright pretty isn’t he?” she said.

“Jennifer I’ve been trying to tell you that for like 6 months- wait wait I’ve got another one you’ve gotta see,” you replied, grabbing your phone back and navigating. Once you had open the old picture he sent you, you turned it back to her. Jen started at it just like she had the first one and her cheeks went a little pink. 

“This- this- is who’s been teaching you Latin all semester?? Latin?” she squeaked.

“YES” 

She exhaled with a whistle. “You’re done for. So are you really gonna- fuck a professor? Like, again?”

You sighed a little. “That’s why it’s complicated-”

You proceeded to relay the whole story about your coffee outings and eventually following him home, and then into bed-

“Wait, he left you breakfast?” “W- that’s what you’re taking away from this?” you stammered. “Did he leave you breakfast, yes or no? And was this a muffin you’d previously seen in his apartment? Did he set out something for you he already had or did he go somewhere and get you a muffin?” she said urgently.

“Uh-” you shook your head, thinking back to the completely clear counters, no muffins or muffin memorabilia in sight. “No, I- I didn’t see any muffins before- and- it was really good-”

“You’re definitely fucking again, 100 percent.” You looked up at her a little wide-eyed. ”How do you know?” you snarked, although that was the outcome you were hoping for.

“The muffin, Y/n. The devil’s in the details.”

A/n: i promise more sex is coming. i pinky swear

#dio x you #dio morrissey x reader #shane dio morrissey #dio x reader #dio morrissey #Pedro Pascal #NYPD Blue

[once-upon-a-oneshot]

Game Over

Based On: “When You Sleep” by Mary Lambert

Summary: Frat!Harry only wants you when he’s drunk, and you’ve finally had enough

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 1.8K

Here I was for the third time this week pulling up to a frat party in the middle of the night. I didn’t want to be here, but, just like all the other times he had too much to drink, he needed me. Usually it takes a great amount of pushing past drunk underaged college kids to find him at these things. But this time, as soon as I reached the yard of the house, dimly lit by an array of neon party lights, I spotted a mop of curly brown hair, hunched over a bush.

“Yo! Harry dude! I thought we agreed no more puking in our bushes?!” Some frat guy was yelling at him from the porch. Harry’s only response was to flip the guy off and grin while using the bush to hold him up. “Finally! Your baby sitter’s here” The guy half-joked noticing my arrival.

Harry turned around to face me a little too fast, and he stumbled forward nearly falling. I tried my best to support him but there was no chance. I by no means would consider myself “small” or “petite”, but compared to Harry’s 6-foot, broad shouldered stature, he was too large.

“Hey! What’re ya doing hur?” Harry drunkenly slurred semi-regaining his balance.

“Haz, you called me, remember?” Normally I would’ve been embarrassed calling him anything but his name. But I’ve done this enough times to know, in the morning, he won’t remember any of the words exchanged tonight.

It took nearly an hour to get Harry back to my dorm room. Our new personal best. It’s not that I live far from the frat house, it’s more the process of getting Harry here. The trip usually goes something like, helping Harry stumble to the car, pulling over at every traffic light so Harry can throw up, finally making it to his apartment (which is past my own apartment), Harry begging me to help him to his front door, Harry realizing he “forgot” his keys, Harry asking if he can just crash at my place instead, me driving Harry back to my apartment, helping Harry stumble into my dorm.

It took about the third time of this routine being repeated for me to realize the coincidence of Harry forgetting his keys every time he went out, got shit faced, and called me to come pick him up, wasn’t so much a coincidence. And even though it was the same thing every time, I never skipped the step of driving to his apartment, because I knew it meant he’d have to verbally ask me if he could stay with me. And in some sick way, I got off to hearing his lips form those words. It was something so small, but something that meant so much to me. And he knew that. Drunk or not. I knew what the morning would bring, but for the night, I’d listen to Harry’s slow, peaceful breathing as he slept.

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of Harry attempting to tip-toe around, collecting his things before I’d wake up. And just like every other morning, I lay perfectly still, letting silent tears hit the pillow, while I listen to the boy I love try to pretend he was never here.

LATER ON CAMPUS

“Hey (Y/N), what did I miss in class today?” I swiveled around in the library chair to face the person who was speaking to me.

Before even facing him, I recognized the voice as a kid from my Biology class, who also happened to be from my hometown. We weren’t necessarily friends, but we engaged in small talk every once in a while. Although I knew who it was before I turned around, I didn’t expect Harry to be standing there with him.

“Oh, uh, not too much.” I focused as hard as I could on my classmate to keep from looking over at Harry. I could feel his eyes burning into me, but I was too embarrassed to look at him. “I can send them to you if you want.”

“Sick! Can you email them to me right now, so I can print them right quick?” I wanted badly to make up some excuse for why I just had to leave and send the notes later, so I could get far far away from Harry. But when I opened my mouth, “Sure” is all that came out.

The guy sat at the computer across from me, and Harry sat down next to him. I fixed my eyes on the computer screen and tried to steady my shaky hands enough to hurriedly send the notes. All the while Harry continued to stare.

As soon as the notes were sent, I logged off the computer and packed up my things. In order to get out of the library I had to pass Harry and the guy, and it was just my luck that the guy had gotten up to go print. As I passed Harry, he grabbed my wrist stopping me. I finally looked into his green eyes, but he didn’t say anything, he just continued to stare like he had already been doing.

“What?” I asked getting uncomfortable with the intensity he was looking at me with. He just shrugged in response.

Once Harry noticed his friend walking back to the computer, he quickly released my wrist, and turned around, as if nothing had ever happened.

Things have been this way with Harry since I met him. Since the day I became his. He knew I had a crush on him, and it gave him some sort of ego trip. Even though he knew I already wanted him, he wanted to make sure it would stay that way. So, whenever he felt like I wasn’t paying him enough attention, or he thought my yearning for him was slipping away, he’d throw me a bone to keep me begging. Initially I made the mistake of thinking this meant that by some chance, he wanted me the same way, but he proved time and time again (through his actions and his words), this wasn’t the case.

And after months of taking whatever treatment Harry would give me. I finally snapped. It happened one night at a party. I was drinking, and I didn’t know he’d be there. I spent the night avoiding him. I was afraid of what drunk me may say or do once I got around him. When he entered a room, suddenly I had somewhere else to be. When he needed another drink from the kitchen, suddenly I wasn’t thirsty anymore. When he wanted to join on the beer pong table, suddenly I was bored of the game. And Harry noticed.

I was on the second floor of the house on my own, exhausted from dodging Harry all night. I leaned my back against the wall of the hall after the stairs reminded me just how buzzed I really was. I guess Harry spotted me heading up stairs because I heard footsteps on the stairs, before he appeared at the top of them. Without saying anything, Harry glanced over his shoulder, before walking and standing directly in front of me. He put an arm up on either side of my head, trapping me between him and the wall.

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here.” he said too casually for our position. “Are you mad at me or something?” This took me by surprise.

“What?”

“You’ve been ignoring me all night.” Again, his tone was way too casual for the things he was saying. But honestly, that’s always how Harry played it.

“You mean living my life? Enjoying the party? Not worshiping the ground you walk on?” Harry’s only response was a smirk. That’s when I started getting angry. “Look I’m too drunk to even be having this conversation with you right now Haz, so can we ju-“

“What’d you just call me?” Harry questioned raising an eyebrow at me. I froze. I was so drunk and emotional that I had accidentally let it slip. But upon processing the look on Harry’s face as something almost resembling distain, my embarrassment turned to pure anger.

“What do you want from me Harry?!” anger was thick in my voice as I pushed him backwards further from me.

“What are you talki-“

“No. Don’t you dare do that! Don’t act like you’re clueless. Like-like you haven’t been playing games with me since we met!” He said nothing. Instead he just stood staring at me. An emotionless expression painted across that beautiful face.

I wanted to stay angry. I wanted the fire burning inside of me to push me to finally walking away from this toxic man. But seeing that there was truly nothing there, the anger fizzled out to simple exhaustion.

“Look, we both know you know how I feel about you. And we both know you don’t feel the same way. But you play with my head. You flirt with me just long enough to wrap me around your finger. And then silence. Just like I never existed. That is until your hold on me starts unraveling again. It’s just some big twisted game for you. It’s like when you can’t have my attention, you suddenly want it.”

“It’s no-“

“I’m not done. For once in the history of whatever the fuck this thing with us is, it’s my turn to talk, and your turn to just listen. And I want you to listen good, because this is the only time I’m ever going to say.” I waited for some sign from Harry to let me know he was really paying attention.

He nodded so I continued.

“I can’t keep being a pawn in your torturous game Harry. It’s not fair to me. You’re breaking me apart and you don’t even care. The thing that hurts the most Harry,” I fought the tears for as long as I could, but the alcohol made it nearly impossible “is the fact that I know I could make you so happy. I would do everything in my power to give you the world. Hell, I basically already do. But you’re so blinded by “not wanting to be with me” that you don’t even realize how good I am for you. How good I am to you. If you stop telling yourself you’re not allowed to love me, I guarantee I’d make you fall. But if that’s not what you want. If you really, truly don’t even want to give me a chance, I’m done. I’ll have to walk away before you finish draining what little of me, I have left. And if that’s what it comes to, I’m begging you, please just let me go. No more games.”

Harry just stood and, like he so often did, stared. Blank. I felt like I was frozen in that moment and all the air had been sucked from the room. Unfortunately, I could feel myself began to sober up as I stood in anticipation of Harry’s response. I wished like hell I was still drunk, because maybe it would’ve hurt less when Harry finally spoke.

“I’m sorry,” he began backing away back towards the stairs. “I’ll leave you alone.” And with that he spun on his heels and trotted back down to the party.

#harry styles #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles drabble #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x mc #harry styles smut #harry styles au #college harry styles #college au #fratboy harry styles #fratboy harry #frat!harry #fratboy!harry #frat boy fan fiction #frat boy fic #one direction #imagine harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff

[burnedbyshoto]

through the looking glass

“Please don’t kill me!” you begged from the floor, your hands raised, trying to get this psycho to leave you alone. “I-I-I don’t think I taste that good? I’ve tried my blood before, and it’s disgusting, true fact! Mosquitos don’t even like me that much!” “I don’t eat humans, I—” the psycho samurai man tried to speak, but you were far from done pleading for your life.

— Or in which you cross paths with Shinazugawa Sanemi and nothing is ever the same again.

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pairing: shinazugawa sanemi x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, nsfw, fluff, cursing, an instance of demon slaying, mirror sex, vaginal fingering, blowjob, slight breeding kink, unprotected sex, cursing, praise kink, this is my first time writing for this fandom oh no

word count: 8,420

a/n: I fell asleep while editing this, good reminder to maybe not lay in a comfy blanket when trying to get shit out on time????? i love sanemi sm tho, please enjoy!

kinktober day 15 main kink: mirror sex | kinktober masterlist

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The sky was always prettier at night.

It wasn’t anything against the sky during the day! As a matter of fact, you also loved the light blue sky just at noon. You loved it wholly! You loved the way the sweet smell of crops of the earthy dewy scent traveled in the morning, and you loved how every creature in existence seemed to hum with life. The morning sky and earth were always busy.

But, you always found the deep dark blue-purple, nearly black night sky to be ethereal.

If you closed your eyes and listened closely, the nighttime, silent with white noise hanging through every quiet move of wind, felt like another world. Out near the countryside, not quite the city and not quite the farmlands, you were able to live a life where you felt safe, felt normal. You and your friends were always screaming and chasing each other through the streets following the setting sun. Your curfew hours pushed back for the night, letting you relax.

You loved to sit just at the edge of the farmed roads, right where the light from the town just disappeared into blackness. You would sit there, eyes bright, fingers pointed at the sky as you took in the irreplicable night sky. At sixteen years, you had decided to venture out on your own; your friends said that they wouldn’t be able to join you because of their own busy schedule and insisted that you don’t go on account of the few vanishing people the past few nights.

But, you were never one to pay mind to others’ opinions; your own mind set on seeing the supposed asteroid shower that night in tandem with the full blue moon was to be a sight you couldn’t miss. So, you laughed, scratching the back of your neck as you sigh. 

“Fine, I won’t go,” you lied to them, and they smiled in gratefulness.

But, like the liar that you are, you found yourself rushing out of your home, your fingers clutching at your kimono as you run. The sun had already set, and if you were to make sure that you would make the sighting, you were going to need to get there now.

Eventually, you made it to that pathed dirt road, your eyes scanning the darkened sky with intense focus as you began to search for the asteroid shower you were promised. With the bright, beautiful moon in the sky, your feet stamping onto the road with your impatience and excitement, you listened to the whistling wind and chirping bugs as you waited.

Nothing abnormal or out of the ordinary.

It was tranquil, quiet, calm.

And finally, when the backdrop of the night sky served as the background to the beautiful shower of asteroids, a single sound that you’ve never heard before echoed from before you and immediately made your stomach sicken. 

Someone was eating in the fields right before you, the sound of a person, maybe an animal, eating something as if it was starving. Slowly, the air filled with fickle laughter, a noise that had your heart racing as you stood up. Your attention no longer focused on the beautiful night sky, but instead, two pairs of yellow and red eyes staring at you.

“Oh? Would you look at that! Two humans already, and it's only three hours into the night!” a voice cackled, and even with the shroud of darkness brought by the hours of the night, you recognized what the not humans were eating.

It was a person.

Unable to scream due to fear, the horror burned through your veins as you tried to scramble to your feet and run away, only to find that you couldn’t even move. You began to cry instead. Fat tears welling down your cheeks as they stalked toward you at a speed you couldn’t start to believe was human or animal, and you curled into yourself, eyes unable to gaze up at the sky one last time.

“So this is where you shithead demons have been fucking hiding?!” a voice practically roared behind you, and it was then you shrieked when a burst of wind exploded over you and a man dressed in a weird black uniform with a white haori with the kanji for ‘kill’ printed on it. 

What the fuck was fucking going on?!

You pinched your skin, wondering if, by chance, the gods had cursed you at the very moment and forced you to hallucinate some strange reality. 

“T-That’s a Hashira,” one of the not-human humans gasped, arm tugging at his friend. “We don’t stand a chance!”

What the fuck was a Hashira?!

“Like hell, we don’t!” the other snarled in defensive anger. You managed to push yourself onto your forearms, your knees still too weak to carry your standing weight. “Look at all his scars, gotta be hanging by a damn thread. He’s not even looking at us!”

You were taken back by that statement. Why wasn’t the third lunatic looking at them?! You snapped your attention from the non-human humans to look at the white-haired man who was staring at you. Your jaw dropped in your shock and slight embarrassment at the way his scarred face took you off-guard for a moment. Why was he looking at you and not the non-human humans?!

And in horror, you watched the psycho scarred man in front of you unsheathed a katana.

A katana.

The ringing of metal loud in your ear as you scrambled to your feet, this man was genuinely insane. Who still carried such weapons in this time period?! The samurai were no longer around, and he was dressed in something that looked weaker than your own kimono!

“Ni no kata: Sousou-Shina to Kaze,” the psycho samurai man spat, and if you hadn’t already believed you weren’t hallucinating already, you definitely did now. Jagged, solid apparitions of claw marks appeared from the air as the psycho man shot forward, the glinting menace of his katana tearing through the necks of both the non-human humans with such horrifying ease. You screamed. 

The terrified scream didn’t stop afterward, only seems to increase in horror when you watched the bodies crumble into smoke and ash, their voices still muttering last words, bitter and abhorrently angry at being murdered. The psycho samurai had beheaded these non-human humans at such power and strength he had destroyed their living bodies! 

Was this because you hadn’t thanked your aunties for adding that one extra meat bun when you noticed after going home?! No, it had to have been for breaking that perverted boy's nose the other day, and this was the curse he placed on you. Physical violence was never the answer; you vehemently prayed to your gods as you begged for forgiveness. Please spare your pathetic life.

Your jaw dropped as you watched the psycho samurai man, with what seemed like proficient knowledge and experience, flick his blade. Blood splattered off the blade, onto the floor, disintegrating too. And well, fuck the gods.

Spinning on your heel, you ran as fast as you possibly could, your chest heaving and nerves entirely shot because if you were hallucinating this badly, you needed to get home. Maybe that candy you ate earlier today from the snot-nosed brat was some weird drug. City kids could never be trusted.

“Are you okay?” a voice gruffed by your ear, and you shrieked, seeing the psycho man seemingly appear beside you. His footsteps were silent as he so obviously ran to catch up to you, and through your frightening horror, you found yourself tripping and falling onto your ass. Staring up at the wholly scarred man in front of you. 

You had initially thought it was just his face that was scarred, but no, it was obviously more. There were jagged, ugly cuts lining his pectorals, abdomen, and if you weren’t making it up, you noticed some on his arms. Every piece of exposed flesh was lined with intense scars.

“Please don’t kill me!” you begged from the floor, your hands raised, trying to get this psycho to leave you alone. “I-I-I don’t think I taste that good? I’ve tried my blood before, and it’s disgusting, true fact! Mosquitos don’t even like me that much!”

“I don’t eat humans, I—” the psycho samurai man tried to speak, but you were far from done pleading for your life.

“My mom says I have a thick neck! Called me an ox or something! I’m sure you don’t want to cleave off my head like you did the others?! Oh my god, am I gonna die?!” you squeaked, your fingers digging crescent shaped wounds into your arms as you began to cry. “I don’t wanna die!” you wailed, and then just the slightest bit pathetically: “I just wanted to see the asteroid shower.”

The psycho man seemed to grow irritated, his lips pulling back into a small snarl before he rolled his eyes. With tears in your eyes, you watched as the man threw his katana to the side, much too far away from him to use on you, and in the dim lights of the town behind you, you watched the shadows grow on his face as he sat down before you.

Not close enough to make you panic, but not far enough you were squinting to see him.

“My name is Shinazugawa Sanemi,” the psycho samurai man explained, and your eyes narrowed.

“That’s not a god or demon I’m aware of,” you muttered under your breath, but it seemed he heard it by the sour glare he gave you. You stilled under his weighted ton glare, your face warming as you averted your gaze. 

“I’m not a god,” he spoke firmly, his arms folding underneath his chest. There was the chance he was a demon, you couldn’t help but think. “Nor am I demon.” You wilted.

“Rabid mountain boy?” you guessed, your nerves and adrenaline are still pounding way too heavy for you to filter your words.

He huffed, “No.”

“Well then—”

“Just let me explain,” he stressed, an eyebrow raised at you, and you stilled. It took a bit, but eventually, you nodded. “My name is Shinazugawa Sanemi, and I am a part of an organization called the Kisatsutai.”

Kisatsutai, the Demon Slayer Corps.

It rang an old bell in your memories, something distant, aged. Maybe a tall tale your grandparents had told you.

“It’s exactly as you think it to be,” he spoke, and you found your gaze rising to meet his. You realized even with the dull, yellowing light of the faraway lanterns, his eyes were a clouded purple. “Those two shitheads that tried to attack you are — were — demons. Yes, demons still exist,” he followed immediately as if knowing what stupid question you were going to ask next. Your mouth closed, and a chill ran down your spine knowing that non-human demon creatures that ate humans actually existed in this world. How had you been so unaware? “I’m a Hashira though, the wind Hashira to be exact. You’re living in my section of the territory I’m assigned to keep safe, so don’t worry. Demons don’t come out during the day; the sun kills them, so keep indoors at night, and you won’t have any issues.”

You remained silent, your mind twisting and turning as you tried to digest his words that seemed to rip apart your life. Sure, there was always a chance of being murdered in life; you weren’t that naive of an idiot to think so. But you never would have guessed that the potential murder you would have was a demon. It just seemed childish.

“T-That’s why they disintegrated?” you eventually babbled, your mind and consciousness entirely overloaded. “Are you some sun blooded person? How did you kill them?”

Sanemi stared at you but grunted. He rose to his feet and offered you a hand, “Top secret, can’t tell you.”

That wasn’t a good enough answer, and your mouth opened, ready to retaliate. 

“I’m not trying to be a jerk,” Sanemi spoke, his hand tensing yet again in apparent effort to get you to grab it. “I’ll explain to you the bullshits of the reality of life later, but fortunately, this wasn’t the only area with demons nearby. So, unless you want me leaving you out here alone.”

A frown curled on your face, but with an unspoken level of trust, you grabbed his hand. You tried not to show how shocked and just awed you were at the calloused, entirely strong palms he had. You had no doubt in mind that he was a master swordsman, that title of Hashira seemed to be a big thing too, and the strength and power and callousness of his palm proved it.

“I’ll walk you home, pipsqueak; let’s get a move on it.”

Nodding your head quickly, you tore your hand from his and walked.

The walk was silent, and you could feel his presence lingering behind you like a hot coal in your pocket. You looked behind to see if he was still there several times, and each time he was staring straight ahead, eyes focused on something far away.

“You’ll be back tomorrow, Shinazugawa-san?” you ask as you made your way to the entrance of your home. You weren’t moving to go in, trying to figure out what he meant by explaining it all later.

“Tomorrow evening before I work,” Sanemi confirms, arms folding again.

You nod, “How old are you, Shinazugawa-san?”

He narrows his eyes but eventually rolls them, “Eighteen.”

Only two years older than you were, yet his hands felt like those of a war-veteran elder. It almost seemed like you and he grew up in entirely different worlds. You nod some more, absorbing his words and skills with better clarity as you finally begin to retreat past the gates. “Well, thank you for saving my life, Shinazugawa-san. I’ll leave—”

“You can watch it tomorrow night,” he said, face void of emotions.

You blink, “What?”

Sanemi rolls his eyes, looking entirely unimpressed. “The asteroid shower? The one you were watching or wanted to watch? Tomorrow night, another one will be happening.”

“O-Oh,” you felt warm, a smile spreading across your face as you nodded. “Thank you for letting me know!”

He nods too, a sharp inhale whistling through the air before his shoulders relax, the tension leaving his body altogether. “Well, until tomorrow evening.”

“Goodnight, Shinazugawa-san,” you politely bow. “Stay safe tonight.”

“...you too.”

And when you pull up from the bow, he’s gone. 

The next evening, Sanemi shows up again. The sun is still in the sky, barely on its decline, and the summer day's warmth is slowly cooling down. As promised, Sanemi answers all of your questions, or well, tries to answer it. Some questions you have, he roughly snarks that those are stupid questions that shouldn’t ever be asked again (i.e., you asking if he was a child of the sun and that's why the demons had died, you asking if he had grown up in the woods and that’s why he was so scarred, you asking if it was only him in this supposed corps). He makes it pretty clear and unmistakable right away that all demons are evil. That he has the power to kill most demons as he is now and is continuing to train himself daily to ensure that he will one day help eradicate the strongest demon. That had turned into a slight argument on how you seriously doubted an eighteen-year-old possessed the power to murder a thousand-year-old demon who has yet to be killed despite the numbers who have tried.

But Sanemi, for all that was worth speaking of, was strangely enticing. Whenever your family or friends peeked their nosy heads in to try and hear your conversations with the psychotic looking stranger, his rather brash and abrasive tone of talking melded away into one of perfect formality and intelligence you quickly forgot he had. It was almost devious of him to have charmed your mother as soon as he did despite his rather inappropriate getup — he refused to cover up.

Faster than you would have liked, the setting sun began to turn scarlet red and royal purple against the sky, and you watched one of the nine apparent Hashira walking away, his body disappearing in the crowds of people that were moving about in the town. But, he was taller than most of them, and with that head of white hair, you watched him leave until you could no longer. 

“Come back again, please, Shinazugawa-san?” you had asked right before he left, your heart hammering in your chest.

He looked at you, unsure, a million emotions flashing through his clouded eyes. Ignoring the way your family and friends were watching you through the obvious crack in the door, you looked at Sanemi, who rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll see.”

That was good enough for you.

Better yet, the asteroid shower returned that night, and as you took it in with a star dazed smile, you thanked Sanemi, wherever he was.

It seemed to become some sort of ritual for both of you.

Sanemi showing up, both of you talking in the courtyard of your home for a few minutes. Some days he showed up with enough time to eat dinner with your family, who were intrigued to know who he was. Some days your friends refused to leave your side, so Sanemi would as calmly as he could interact with them. Turns out a few of them reminded him of his own friends, and a sense of kinship formed between them all.

But as the sunset and you wished him well and luck, you always asked for him to return.

Sanemi would always respond with uncertainty. But the next day, he was there.

Some days he had more bandages on his body; some days, he looked straight up sick. There were scary days where he wouldn’t appear at all, and he’d be back in two days apologizing. He had come across a few Lower Moons and was hospitalized then had a meeting, he would explain. There were some days he’d let you grab his hand as he explained that he wouldn’t be back for a few days; there was a meeting in Headquarters, and it took a day to get to and a day to return from. Three days have gone from his usual postings, so he would have to spend an additional four days heavily working to make up for his disappearance. 

“Fuckers aren’t as strong as they should be anymore,” Sanemi gruffed as you rested your head against his shoulder, his softly resting against yours. “Idiot trainers letting them take the test without their breathing techniques being strong.”

You laughed your finger, raising and pressing against his proud scar on his chest. It had been a year since you had first met him at that point, and now at seventeen, you knew he was proud of his scars, showing them off like the farmers showed off their prized crops, how senseis and masters showed off their awards. 

“They can’t even fucking use the Water Breathing techniques correctly,” he spoke angrily, almost bitterly. “That’s the easiest breathing to learn! They had no fucking skill; they don’t use the breathes they should be using!”

“Mm,” you agreed, not really invested in their strengths or if the trainers were blind fucking bats, and your hand rested on his chest. His heartbeat under your fingertips, and you looked at his dark purple eyes. Despite the weird angle, his eyes were beating with the slightest bit of anger. “They sound like the worst.”

You had never known Sanemi to freeze up or startle, but you saw the way his eyes dropped to your lips, the way they drank them in, but he pulled away. His heartbeat suddenly frantic as he stood. 

“It’s getting late; I gotta go if I’m going to make the town thirteen kilometers from here,” he grumbled, strapping his katana to his waist and standing up. You quietly followed after Sanemi, listening to him talk about how there was a case this morning but that the supposed demon was an actual cannibal.

As the two of you passed to the front gate, the warm smell of cracked dirt and sweet weeds filled the air. The sun was still high in the sky, just enough for your practically superpowered friend, not a friend, to make it to his suspected town just as the sunset.

He turned to you, falling quiet, obviously waiting for your typical farewell. But, you were trying something new tonight, and maybe from here on out. Sanemi watched with wide eyes as you stepped before him, your lips pressing sweetly against his battle-hardened skin, just kissing the corner of his mouth.

“Stay safe,” you grinned, pulling away, finding the pink in his cheeks and ears as a sign of victory. And as you made your way back into the doors of your home, Sanemi’s hands grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you near once again.

“I didn’t know you were a fucking Water User,” he snaps, and before you could smoothly input, you were not a Breathe user on account of your very serious childhood asthma, his lips pressed against yours, and it suddenly made sense.

The sky during the day was, for the most part, repetitive and boring. But when Sanemi pulled away from you, your lips humming with electricity and pumping blood from your excitement, the backdrop of the sky on the man who held your heart could outmatch even the asteroid shower you had seen. 

“Come back again, please, Sanemi?” you slowly spoke, the smile on your face ear-splitting and pure.

“Fuck off!” Sanemi flushed bright red, and he turned on his heel and stormed away.

He listened to your bell-like laughter as he rounded the corner. Well, until he seemingly reappeared before you again, his hands pressing to your cheeks and kissing the laughter from your throat before he pulled away. His voice was gruff, and his body language screamed he was doing everything not to look away from you right now, “I’ll see.”

And it was good, so very, very good.

By the time you were eighteen, you had moved in with Sanemi.

Despite the lack of a formal proposal, how both of you agreed not to marry yet, your parents allowed you to move in with Sanemi. They knew the reason why both of you had decided not to wed and accepted it as long as Sanemi took all responsibility for what would happen to him should anything happen to you. 

You still remember Sanemi showing up in the only kimono he owned. It was a bit — okay, try way — too tight against his arms and chest. His katana or usual uniform nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t that you hadn’t been expecting this to happen; the two of you had discussed this future together plentifully. But seeing him on his knees, a bow that was so low, respectful, and formal, had sent your skin simmering with blazing heat as Sanemi asked to officially court you and if he could also bring you home with him.

Tears welled in your eyes at his beautifully spoken request, and your parents, who may or may not have interrupted a handful of too many gentle, sweet, full kisses between you and Sanemi in the gardens of your home, had expected it. 

That sunset, you had watched Sanemi pull his katana and uniform from underneath a tatami mat in your room, and you screeched about how he had hidden it there. He didn’t bother responding as he changed into his needed uniform, and you had politely looked away while he changed. You may or may not have caught sight of his muscled, toned, and scarred legs, though, and you may or may not have thought about it for every second after he had left.

He kissed you wholly before he left that night, his thumb rubbing your cheekbone just softly enough to make you putty in his hands.

“I’ll be back in the morning to help you move in,” he promised, and you nodded your head impatiently, your lips seeking his again. 

As promised, Sanemi showed up the following morning, and with the help of the wagon your parents owned, all of your items were carefully exported to Sanemi’s home. A home that was way more than you had imagined. Your fiancé, not quite a fiancé, was always clean, he never showed up covered in dirt or blood, so while you weren’t necessarily expecting him to live in a crate at the side of the road, you were also expecting that from him.

It was a large home with a large courtyard, garden, and training spaces. Sanemi had easily carried your trunks into your (Sanemi and your’s) room, and you had hugged your parents tightly before they left. Their smiles drowned out into the bright sunlight as they went.

The adjustment to living with Sanemi wasn’t as hard as you thought it was going to be. For sure, the most challenging thing was getting your body accustomed to being awake during the night so that you could sleep with him and then spend his waking hours with him. It was perfect, blissful, and wonderful. You’d spend sundown to sunrise doing chores and doing drills with a wooden sword and dummy — Sanemi was teaching you how to handle a katana in case he wasn’t around. You’d write down lists of what you would need when he came home. Thirty minutes after sunrise, nearly without fail, Sanemi would stumble into the house, calling out his greeting.

You helped him bathe the night's blood and grime away, and with gentle hands and coaxing words, dragged him to sleep. At three in the afternoon, both of you would wake, and the day would begin with a sweet kiss good morning. Both of you would go and finish the day's errands, the vendors soon becoming familiar with your face and person. It was a great community, and everyone seemed to hold Sanemi in high regard.

But your relationship changed yet again when Sanemi slammed through the doors one day after sunrise. His eyes were wide, faint pink, already healed over scars risen on his skin as you came to the front door to see your husband, not a husband, discarding his shoes on the floor. 

“What’s going on?!” you asked, partially because you were scared and partly because you were slightly exhausted and ready to drag him into bed with you. But it seemed that Sanemi had that same exact mindset, but with a whole other meaning.

The kiss he pressed on your lips was blistering hot; you arched against the intensity of his kiss, your fingers touching the dirt of his face and feeling the heat of his skin.

“I need you,” he simply stated, over and over, his words coiling and festering under your skin until you could do nothing but let out a shaking moan. Exhaustion had burned out of your bloodstream, and a gentle, building warmth sank through your loins as slowly you agreed.

I need you,” you repeat as the sliding doors close behind your shifting bodies, the both of you losing yourselves to the heat and the passions of the early morning lust.

.

..

.

It had been approximately a year since you and Sanemi began to indulge in your shared sexual desires. Your relationship was deep, it was full, and as everything human, had its flaws. There were mornings where he would come home and needed to sleep in a separate room, evenings when he would leave, and his words would be cold and haunting. His life up until now had been a hard one, and you were no fool to believe that your presence would make him forget that. 

But in spite of it all, you were always happy when Sanemi would pull off of you, the streams of golden morning light whisping into the room, your body aching with the intensive pleasurable waves as the both of you would ease into sleep. It was perfect, you thought so, at least.

Sanemi, however, always claimed that you were a sight to be seen when he was bottomed out in you. His words were sweet in your ears as his lips brushed your skin, his praises were endless, but even when the drunken hue of the passions of the early morning faded, he swore you were a sight to be taken in at its full glory. Through every praise, every small moment where he would kiss you afterward as the smell of sex and dewy grass wafted into the room, Sanemi wanted you to see how beautiful you were when he fucked you.

You had no idea how that was to work; there was nothing that gave off a good enough reflection. But one late spring day, your eyes at the table you were using, carefully shuffling the funds Sanemi had acquired and placed them out accordingly, the front door was thrown open. 

“I’m home,” Sanemi grunted from the first room in the home, and you strained your ears, not hearing the door shut behind him.

“Welcome home!” eventually came your response, your body pressing up from the floor, fingers smoothing down your purple kimono before walking to where Sanemi stood. 

By the time you entered the room, Sanemi had already closed the door. But you were less focused on the time interval it took him to enter the home and more interested in the large, covered, and almost ominous rectangular object resting on the wall. 

“Whatcha got there?” you asked, head tilting in your curiosity, eyes focused on the large rectangle.

“The obaa-san gave me free smoked salmon because she heard that apparently, we’re trying for a kid. She said eating salmon before having sex will guarantee a strong male heir. So I figured we could make some nigiri,” Sanemi stated, purposefully ignoring your question if the way his lips pulled into a sardonic smile had anything to say about it.

“You’re an asshole,” you laugh, your hand smacking his shoulder only for him to thread his fingers in yours and pull you in for a sweet kiss. You hummed against his soft lips, your fingers running through his hair until the entire sentence he just told you sparked back into your memory. You tugged the ends of his hair just sharp enough for him to grunt in the back of his throat. “Idiot, don’t let them think we’re trying for a kid just yet.”

Sanemi snorts, pulling away from the kiss, “Maybe you should stop talking about your cravings in public — especially with that gossiping vendor.”

“Period cravings are a thing!”

“Yah yah,” Sanemi grunted, his hand waving you off as he gathered his rectangle thing and started making his way off with it. It was enormous though, you noticed as he carried it. It was longer than both of your heights, and if you were to stand at his shoulder, it seemed like it could still be wider than the both of you. “Stop breathing down my neck, weirdo.”

“You’re the one not telling me what that is!” you complain, following Sanemi with enough distance that you weren’t stepping on his heels. “Come on, ‘nemi, tell me what it is?”

“What do you think it is?”

“I hope it isn’t Mitsuri-chan’s present from Iguro-san,” you grumbled, knowing that last Christmas, you had to keep Mitsuri’s present hidden from the lovely Love Breathe wielder. “I can’t handle him showing up in the middle of the day, demanding to see it again. Why didn’t his own home work?”

“Kanroji shows up occasionally, and he only brings her into the best rooms depending on the day,” Sanemi grunted, resting the rectangle onto the wall by your tatami mats. “He won’t confess; she’s dumber than a rock, it’s all annoying. But he’s still… a friend.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re finally admitting to being friends with your fellow Hashira!” you chirped, your arms circling his neck, your grin complete and authentic as Sanemi looked at you unimpressed, his lips in a pout, not a pout, but a pout. You had the privilege of meeting all the Hashira Christmas morning, and they were all lovely people you got along with quite well. “Now, are you and Tomi—”

“That water bastard can choke on my foot and die!” Sanemi snapped, his face fuming, eyebrows narrowing, but his warm arms remaining relaxed and warm around your waist. “I’ll kill him and his stupid ‘I’m-better-than-you’ personality.”

“And you don’t get along with someone like that?” you feign surprise, utterly delighted with the way his eyes sparkled dangerously at you. And well, you didn’t ever hesitate to take a bite out of Sanemi. “Guess there’s only enough room for an ‘I’m-better-than-you’ personality even in the Hashira, and if it isn’t you… oops.”

Sanemi choked, and you laughed loudly, face nuzzling into his stiff neck as he attempted to escape from your stubborn hold. 

“You’re a real jerk,” Sanemi said as monotonously, allowing his much stronger body to be bent down as your lips peppered against his skin and eventually on his relaxed lips that didn’t bother returning your kisses.

“Kiss me back,” you whined, your lips pressing with a more significant, more profound fervor against his mouth.

“No.”

“I’m sorry!” you giggled with no actual apologies in your tone, enjoying the way that Sanemi’s lips slowly began to press back against yours. “Tomioka-san is obviously not the holder of the ‘I’m-better-than-you’ personality title!”

“You damn brat,” Sanemi growled, his fingers pinching and pulling at your cheeks, paying no mind to your cries of mercy. “To think that I bought this for you too!”

“You haven’t even shown it to me yet!” you complain, unable to pout on account to his fingers, still pulling your cheeks apart. “You left me in the dark!”

Sanemi grunted, letting go of your cheeks, his purple eyes darkening and narrowing as he slammed a hand over your eyes and twisted you around in a swift movement. You resisted the small gasp hanging at the tip of your tongue when you felt his broad chest pressing into your back, and he moved forward, commanding you to move without a word. 

“Is this when you confess you’ve been a demon this entire time and trap my soul into Hell with all your other sexy wives?”

“Would you shut up?!”

Sanemi’s hand tore away from your eyes, and even though you were ready to argue with him just to hear the flaring annoyance on his tongue, you stilled when you saw your reflection perfectly. This had to be a mirror, an invention made in the west a few years ago, and finally, it was here. You weren’t oblivious to the fact that you were smaller than Sanemi, but the mirror made that difference alarmingly apparent. 

“I told you I wanted you to be able to look at yourself as I fucked you,” Sanemi whispered against your neck, breaking your attention away from its transfixion on the precise observation you finally had on yourself. “Turns out Tokyo got some imported, and I had to go get one myself.”

“Sanemi,” you whimpered, the canines of his teeth dragging against the tender flesh of your neck that was exposed from your kimono. Your eyes took in the sight of how his eyes stared at your face through the mirror's reflection, they were dark, murkier like this, and when his teeth slowly sank into your flesh, a ripple of pleasure and pain bubbling against your skin, you moaned. 

“Look at yourself,” Sanemi purred, his arms circling around your waist, and you felt him slowly beginning to undo the fastenings and fabrics of your kimono. “I need you to understand just how crazy you make me feel when I touch you, when I fuck you.”

The words were hot cinders in your lower stomach, festering and twisting in its warmth as his words buzzed in your ears. Your eyes dragged over to your reflection, and you could feel the beginning steam come out of your ears at the sight of yourself. Your eyes were lidded, perfectly hooded to give off the obvious desire that was growing in your body, your lips swelling with how your teeth tore into them, stopping the small moans that went unheard, and the flush that radiated off your features and glowed in your eyes.

It was a sight that you had never expected to see, and the pure unadulterated lust radiating off your features embarrassed you. The embarrassment only seemed to grow more as the kimono slipped from your shoulder, exposing more of your tender flesh for Sanemi’s mouth and teeth to mark, and your head dipped backward at the lewd scene.

“Look at you, angel,” Sanemi smirked against your skin, his eyes glinting dangerously even though the reflection as you weakly, just barely managed to return your gaze onto your review. You looked even more wrecked as the kimono dropped to the floor, the white undergarments you wore making you look saintly in the reflection and warm light of the streaming sun. “So beautiful, so perfect, and all mine.”

Your fingers fisted into the pants of his uniform. Your knees feeling weak with the possessiveness that came with his words. Unsure as to what to do, all the embarrassment and shamelessness in the world dancing like falling leaves as you pondered what you could do. Usually, you would move with him against him. You didn’t exactly fall into a pillow princess category, but feeling the intensity of his gaze through a mirror, and the way that your body behaved exactly as he had always claimed it had, made your head spin.

You gasped loudly when his hips rutted slowly against your ass, his scarred hands continuing to undress you more, each fabric of clothing that separated your naked body from the mirror disappearing until you were completely nude. And you mewled.

“Look at yourself, angel,” Sanemi laughed against the shell of your ear, his head now against yours, keeping you from even attempting to look away. His large, rough hands glided across your much softer skinned body, watching as his fingers rolled your nipples between his fingers, massaging your tender flesh in his hands. 

You saw the way your head dipped backward as you moaned, your eyes fluttering as you did so. Undoubtedly, both of you painted an erotic scene, but it was something you hadn’t ever expected to be confirmed. “You look so beautiful moaning against my touch; I wonder if you’ll like the way your face scrunches up when I fuck your pretty little pussy, or even when I touch it.”

Slight fear shot through your nerves as suddenly, Sanemi dropped to the floor, taking you with him. No pain went through your body as he made impact with the floor. You figured out why immediately, your ass was against his hard crotch, his clothed outer thighs pressing against your naked inner thighs, and you made sight with the mirror and keened at the picture of your spread slick pussy. 

Sanemi shifted behind you, and although you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away from how your cunt glistened in the light, you shook when you saw his bare arms, felt his bare chest against your back. 

“You drive me utterly fucking insane,” Sanemi growled hotly against your ear, crotch grinding up into your ass, and you pathetically looked at your flushed face as you ground back downwards onto him in return. A slow groaned out moan resonated from his mouth, and you shivered and gasped at the noise, your cunt clenching at nothing as Sanemi positioned your arms as he wanted them to be. Clutched into his hair, absolutely revealing your naked body to the mirror, denying you no salacious angle of your body. “I want you to watch me make you feel good, angel. Don’t look away, promise?”

“I p-promise,” you stammer, the slight glint of his eye that you can still see, making your toes curl.

And he began.

Sanemi’s finger slowly traced down your knees, the heat from his flesh nearly burning as you tremble in his hold. Your instincts fight whether to look at him from the mirror or normally. 

You keep your eyes onto the mirror. “Good job, you’re doing such a good job,” Sanemi voices, his fingers becoming feather-soft strokes against the inside of your legs that make you arch against his chest. a sharp inhale was what he was rewarded with as his fingers make small circles centimeters from where you crave him most. “I haven’t seen you react this intensely in so long. Is it because you’re watching your pretty face enjoy the praise?”

Unsure what to say, your head nods rapidly, your tongue falling dead in your mouth when his left-hand drags up your abdomen, scratching the underneath of your breasts until you can shake no more. “SANEMI!” you shriek, unable to take the teasing touches and watching your embarrassingly turned on face anymore. “SOMETHING! DO SOMETHING! ANYTHING, PLEASE!”

“Aw, you cracked so fast,” he chuckles against your ear, and you melt into a euphoric victory when his thick, rough fingers plunge into your cunt.

Immediately, your hips snap up to greet him, your body shifting in quick, fast snaps as you watch your soaked cunt fuck against his fingers, desperately, greedily taking him in more and more. The sight of his fingers disappearing into your cunt through the mirror, the way your teeth tore into your lips to keep your singing praises at a minimum, and how you could feel and swear you could see the heat pounding from your body take shape through the mirror.

You had never felt this tight yet undone. Your lust hazed eyes shifting from your almost too lewd facial expressions to the way Sanemi jaw flexed with his growled endless praises, to how your cunt greedily sucked him in, further and further until the pounding of your heart couldn’t even drown out the wet, squelching of your cunt.

“Fuck!” Sanemi cursed, his hips grinding further, harder into your ass, and you keened at the massive hard length that poked into your back. “Look at you, you’re so fucking hot, angel. So needy, so fucking greedy for everything that I’m giving you.”

“I want m-more!” you sob, your body hyper-aware of how fast his curled fingers were pounding into you. You craved the way his battle-scarred fingers dragged against your puffy inner walls, hips bucking so his fingers would drag against the spongy divots, sending your mind spiraling and your jaw falling in your wordless beg for more. You understood why Sanemi craved you like this, why he insisted you needed to see the way you looked when he fucked you because as the hand that was kneading and pulling on your breasts and nipples shot down to make sure your trembling thighs didn’t smash together in your building climax. How he continued to press sloppy, wet, hot, and bitten kisses against your neck, you were a perverts fantasy. “M-More ‘nemi, please give me more!” you practically wailed.

“You gonna cum around my fingers, angel?”

“I needa cum, I wanna cum!”

“I want you to cum around my fingers, look at yourself for me when you do,” Sanemi commanded, and you, in your lust-driven mindset, agreed. Your eyes were looking on your lewd face, and everything crumbled when the growing clenches of your cunt became a tight vice grip.

But the heated pressure between your legs had been festering for too long, the included visuals that sent your brain into putty had you cumming around his fingers, your hips bucking wildly, barbarically against his still conquesting fingers. “Yes, yes yesyesyeysyes, that was so good… your fingers are so good,” you babbled, your eyes crossing, unable to look at yourself anymore. The elation of the orgasm flooding your mind and muscles. But you hadn’t been fucking the man who could pound you for multiple rounds without tiring without picking up a thing or two. 

Twisting around your lips that were swollen from your biting and smooth with your saliva crashed against his. Sanemi didn’t resist your kiss, his lips crashing and moving without any hesitation against yours. You moaned when his fingers left your heat, and you slipped your tongue into his mouth as you ground your ass against his still throbbing hard-on. “I want your cock still, ‘nemi. I want you to fuck me with your cock, please fuck me.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, okay!” Sanemi snarled, and his thighs slammed shut. 

You crawled off his lap, watching as the slick stained spot on his uniform glistened in the light. Frowning, not wanting to disturb him, you couldn't help but lick against the wet area, voice moaning deeply at the musky, sweet scent of your slick against the fabric.

“Y/n!” Sanemi weakly got out, his hips instinctively bucking towards your lapping tongue. 

You worked with him to get his uniform off his hips, your body not waiting for him to undress entirely before your mouth enveloped his thick veiny cock. The salty pre-cum invaded your senses, your tongue lapping up the underside of his cock before your mouth took in his swollen red head. You hollowed out your cheeks as you sucked his cockhead, your tongue swiping and moving at his leaking slit as Sanemi cursed the heavens for you, his hands grabbing onto your head and pulling you off him right when that shivering twitch of his cock pressed to your tongue.

Gasping, you looked at Sanemi’s nearly black eyes, disappointment heavy on your features.

“‘Nemi—” you pout, but Sanemi doesn’t let you finish.

You’re back almost straddling his waist, your back flush against his chest. He holds a strong, sturdy hand against your waist, keeping your waiting, wet cunt from lowering onto his hard cock. Your feet on the mats feel weak as you try to hold your weight above him, but when his teeth sink into the back of your neck, a spot that makes your body collapse without reason, you garble a scream when his cock sheathes completely within you.

Heavy, hot pants escape both of your mouths as you’re completely seated on his cock, the nearly inhumane girth of his cock making you dizzy at the surprise entrance. But you were much, much more fascinated with the way your pretty little pussy was stretched out so wide for his cock. He was buried in you, and even though it didn’t hurt to have him in you. The reflection showed how your lips pulled and stretched to fit him in, the small bulge of his cock in you was seen, and you cried in ecstasy.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” you begged, hips long gone from obeying any command Sanemi could try to give you as you fucked yourself against his length. “God, your cock is so good, ‘nemi! You look so good filling out my pretty fucking pussy!”

That is what makes Sanemi lose it, his hands that rest on your hips tightening with a bruising grip as he begins slamming into you. The wet noises of his cock entering and exiting of your sloppy, wet cunt at an even faster speed in which you were fucking him make your nails dig into his thighs, your eyes crossing, breathes hot and heavy. 

Twisting, curling pleasure thrums deep within your womb, tightening and warming with each successive thrust that sends Sanemi’s cock rubbing against your inner velvet walls. You cry his name, eyes dazed and dripping with want and need as you watch the slicked shine of his cock pounding into your without mercy. 

“You’re so fucking tight like this, angel, so fucking hot. You like the way you look like when I fuck you, huh, look at how godly you appear,” he snaps, his arms hugging your hips, his thrusting becoming short, deep, fierce snaps. 

You can’t look at yourself anymore, the heat of the sex and the electric pleasure that rides with every lick of his cock against your cervix, sending your hot, wet lips in search of his. Sanemi meets you halfway, open mouth moans and groans being exchanged between your open mouths as your tongues intermixed and pressed sinfully against each other. The noises that leave your wet sexes only fuel the raging fire in your cunt that has reignited to a hire flame than before.

“Cum in me,” you find yourself begging against his lips. “Please cum in me, don’t pull out, ‘nemi, please don’t pull out.”

“Fuck, fuck, you sure?” Sanemi grunted, his body heaving you both forward so that you were on your knees, and he was absolutely wrecking you from behind.

“Yes!” you affirm over and over again. your mind high off of him and how you looked in the mirror. “I want you in me, all of you in me!”

He let out a guttural whine, a sound that had you shaking beneath him and screaming when the coil in your cunt finally snapped.

Another orgasm crashed through you, and your spinning high echoed in your ears and curled your toes as you whimpered Sanemi’s name. With the sound of his hips slapping against your ass, and with his teeth burying into the nape of your neck, you felt the hot, liquid ropes burst from his cock, filling you up. The both of you remained there, panting as your sweat and slick covered bodies collapsed to the floor. 

“So…” he gasped, collapsing onto the mat beside you, pulling you into his chest so that you could rest against his scarred chest. “Did you like the mirror?”

“...I guess,” you antagonize, grinning when he frowns. “It was hot; you make me look hot.”

Sanemi snorted, his lips pressing to your sweat-covered forehead.

“I don’t do shit; that’s how you are.”

You chuckled, warm grogginess settling under your skin as you merely hum in agreement.

“The Hashira meeting is tomorrow, so I’ll be gone for two days,” Sanemi murmurs, reminding you of the dreaded two days alone. It wasn’t as if you had forgotten; you never do.

“Think anything interesting will happen?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary, hopefully.”

You giggle, snuggling in closer to his chest. Yeah, hopefully.

#sanemi x reader #sanemi smut #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #kny #kny x reader #bbs kinktober 2020

[opluffys]

Surprise! - Killer x Reader

school is fucking hard. i don’t like how this turned out tbh but this is for my one piece people :) . thank you for being so patient, i appreciate it. like all the other fics here, this was posted to my archive account too, luffys. sorry i’m too lazy to find a gif, forgive me ;( . pls let me know if it copied weird/if there are errors, sometimes that happens. pls enjoy!!

-smut/nsfw-

Wrapped thinly in the cool sheets, your legs spread wide while your agile fingers dipped into your soaked folds. Eyes closed, mouth agape, practically screaming.

Not a care in the world who could hear you, not a single care if that rickety door creaked open and suddenly, you were hosting a show.

Not a single care when someone had walked in.

One of your glossy eyes popped open, in shock, and hidden arousal. When you had seen who it was, you only smiled and continued your ministrations.

"Surprise." You grinned, slipping two fingers deep inside of yourself, mewling at the feeling.

He stayed silent, large figure obscuring the flood of bright stars that painted the night sky. You could just hardly tell, but you knew he was looking at you. His head just barely turned in your general direction.

"You're not supposed to be here."

You laughed, "Yes, I'm aware."

"You belong to the surgeons crew."

"Are you going to tell on me? Summon red hair to see the horrible things I'm doing?" You gasped, faking a worried tone.

"You couldn't go to someone else's room?" He asked, shutting the door quite harshly, you tightened your legs.

"I don't know this ship. This happened by chance." You paused, looking him over. He is a very attractive man, and that uniform he has on is doing him nothing but justice.

"How about you enjoy yourself a little, before your captain gets you killed." You spread yourself for him, whining at the cool air.

He laughed.

It was a very distinct sound, but you honestly could care less. You've heard many laughs in your lifetime. One shouldn't be judged for the sound they make out of joy.

"Nervous?" You teased, rubbing yourself slowly.

"Not at all."

"Liar."

He approached you slowly, like an animal hunting prey. Holding your soft thighs with scarred skin, subconsciously, you moved closer. His thick fingers coated with your arousal, he pushed into your tight walls. You squeezed your legs tightly, not wanting just his fingers.

"You can barely handle two fingers. Yet, you're begging for me." He chuckled quietly.

Moaning when he curled his fingers inside of you, you nearly came right there.

"Fine, since you want it so bad..." He mumbled, you looked up at him, then the leather pants of the outfit. You nearly drooled when you noticed the print of his erection. You imagined a thousand different ways of how he could fuck you.

He noticed you looking, and started palming at it, making you grow impatient. Just to get you really riled up, he would deeply groan or sigh.

You sat up, trying to get him to pay attention to you, just to result him in pushing you back down. You huffed. "No doll. I'm calling the shots here, in case you haven't figured that out yet."

Agonisingly slow, he lowered the material of his garments, basically becoming a striptease.

Your breathing quickened, you hadn't been so excited in so damn long. Your body yearned for his hands anywhere on you.

Pressing his tip to your anxious folds, he slowly stretched you open, inch by inch. You whimpered at the feeling, you're not sure you've ever slept with anyone of this size before.

"Relax. I can't fit if you're squeezing me the entire damn time." He groaned almost silently, he was right, but it felt so good, you couldn't control yourself.

The problem wasn't with how aroused you were, no. You were soaking wet, pretty much leaking over his cock. It was his fucking size, he was so big. You wouldn't tell him, though. Screw his ego.

With a few deep breaths, you relaxed your body, lightly spasming on his length as he tried to push himself deeper within you.

Screaming out in pure pleasure, you finally felt him bottom out. You were crying, it was a little painful, but it hurt so good.

"Fuck, you're good."

You nearly purred in response, happy to hear such a thing come from someone like him. You knew he was just talking about how your pussy feels, but it's still apart of you, no?

He pulled out of you slowly after thrusting his hips a couple of times, not interested in this kind of position. It was boring, the only good thing is he could see the way your face contorts into bliss when he stretches your tight cunt, as well as your soft breasts bounce gently with every single move he made.

He helped you to sit up, and flip over so your stomach was touching the bed. You arched your back when you felt his calloused hands tracing blemishes on your smooth skin.

"Look how soft you are..." He had almost growled in want,  "That soft skin of yours won't last a day with me, girl."

"Prove it."

That shit grin on your face dissipated instantly when you felt his harsh grip on your hips yank you closer to him. His large hands groping and squeezing the curve of your ass. Whimpering in want, you backed your hips behind you, a silent sign that you wanted more of him.

"Impatient."

You grinned, "I'm not the only one." You felt his length behind you, slowly pushing in. You hummed, your body finally feeling contented bliss.

Your soft and slick walls fluttered around his cock with every swift movement, screaming in pleasure as he hit all the right places inside you.

"You're amazing, you're so fucking amazing..!" You gasped, insides grabbing him in a vice grip. He groaned lowly, he was seeing stars fucking into you. Watching your small body eat him up greedily while you begged for more, fuck...

Picking up the pace, your cries were muffled by the comforter below you. He was fucking you deep into the mattress, and hell, you wouldn't dare complain. It felt fucking phenomenal, being bent in such a way you thought you couldn't achieve. His strong arms on each side of you, watching the muscles flex with every thrust.

You tried to quiet yourself down so you could try to hear him, he was so damn silent, you had to question yourself if you were any good for him.

"You're pretty quiet." You whimpered, feeling him waver for a moment, stopping while still comfortably inside your warmth.

"Want me to scream like you, babe?"

You giggled, "Maybe. Would be nice to know if I'm making you feel any good back there..."

"You being alive up to this point is an affirmation of that, isn't it?" He asked, bringing you up to straddle him.

"I can say the same to you. Just because I'm smaller than you doesn't mean you're stronger."

He smiled, unbeknownst to you, of course. "Is that so..?"

"It is. You made a mistake by switching positions, see," You placed your hands on his broad, muscular shoulders. "now I'm in control. I have you in the palm of my fucking hand, babe." You smiled, teasing his earlier pet name.

Raising your hips to slowly lower yourself onto him, his grip on the bedsheets tightened, he was reacting even more than you were!

"Look at you, such an untamed, wild thing. Sitting calmly under a woman's touch- a woman's body. I caged you, albeit temporarily." You heard him snarl deeply, unable to speak while you rode him slowly.

"Imagine if Eustass saw you like this, crying under me," his hand trailed slowly to your waist, bruising in the grip it held. Your smeared lipstick followed the curve of your lips as best as it could, "Angry? Don't be, it's just you and I. I'm yours, yet loyal to one man." Your hands snaked to his back, nails sinking into the muscle.

"Imagine if Trafalgar saw you like this, sleeping with the enemy." He chuckled, "Think twice about how you want to talk to the second in command, doll." Easily overpowering you, he began to move your body up and down as he liked, sliding you over his cock. You couldn't even fight him on it, the pleasure too much for you to even think logically.

"Ohh, oh fuck. You're gonna kill me. You're gonna fucking kill me..." You moaned, leaning closer to him as he assisted your ride. "Hey," he slowed down for a second, still pumping into you every so often, "kiss m-me..." you whimpered, hot tears pouring over your smooth skin.

"I won't look. I promise." You placed your hands on his shoulders delicately, grinning devilishly when you noticed him flinch.

"Please..?" You smiled warmly at him, giving him such an odd feeling, how could he say no?

"If you look, I won't hesitate to slice you in two. Understand?" He threatened, his voice dropping to a darker tone. Subconsciously, it made you squeeze around him tighter, feeling a new high behind the threat. He felt this, of course, shaking his head a bit.

You closed your eyes, feeling his warm lips barely connect with yours, the both of you pushing closer to close that nonexistent gap in between you. His taste drove you feral, nearly growling and making other animalistic sounds while pathetically bouncing on him.

You wanted to see him, desperately, fucking badly. But you made a promise.

And pirates don't make promises.

"You're fucking hot..." You mumbled, not completely on accident, you haven't even noticed, immediately regretting your decision when you noticed the shift of mood.

His grasp shifted from your waist and hips, to tightly around your neck.

Gasping and struggling for air, you wrapped your legs as tightly as you could around him, it hurt like hell for you, but it obviously restricted his breathing as well. Just barely, though...

"I'm s...sorry." You whispered, voice sounding unfamiliar to even you.

The grip on your throat loosened, just enough for you to inhale the cool air into your burning lungs. The muscles and tendons of your thighs and calves were burning, sighing contently when you released him.

"I know you're angry,"

"Angry?" He chuckled, his blonde lashes falling delicately over the tanned skin of his cheek, "Angry doesn't begin to describe it, babe." He growled, squeezing your hips hard.

"but," A wolfish grin spread onto your lips, looking up at him with lust burning in your irises, "what kind of pirate would I be if I kept my promises..?"

"I should use you as a shield in Onigashima."

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his wide stature, "Sure, if that's what you really want. But tell me, how many have seen your face and lived through it? Maybe think about keeping me around for a little while longer. Pretty please?" You teased, resting your cheek against his pectoral muscle.

He grimaced, you had a point. He hadn't remembered the last time he's had such an intimate partner like you.

"Fine."

"Fine?" You questioned, not moving from your surprisingly comfortable spot on his muscled thighs.

"After we're done here, you go back to Trafalgar."

You frowned, that isn't what you had expected him to say at all.

"Relax, it isn't like we won't cross paths in the future." He rocked his hips into your own gently, making you softly gasp and moan into his chest.

After the two of you decided that talking time was over, he quickly pushed you onto the mattress once again, your ass in the air while your shaky legs barely held you.

His grip on the supple and soft skin of your hips was painfully bruising, which only added to the pleasure he provided.

You placed your hands behind your back in offering of him holding onto those instead, he grabbed them instantly, gripping your wrists to anchor himself to you.

Hot tears pricked your eyes once more when you felt him snug against your cervix, cursing the barrier that prevented him from going on further. He didn't mind, though. He enjoyed what he could fit into you just fine.

Panting and groaning deeply, he was much more audible with the mask off. He was entranced by the way your cunt took him in, your juices coating more and more of his dick every time he slammed back into you.

Even though you really couldn't take all of him, your soaking warmth wanted nothing more than to feel his imprint deep inside of you. He didn't want to harm you though, so he pushed in just what you could handle.

He watched as your ass jiggled with every thrust, his calloused and large hand groping and kneading the soft flesh.

You whimpered under him, feeling your velvety walls squish his cock as tightly as humanly possible, you lost count of how many times you had orgasmed, each one more powerful than the last.

Your spine curved to the point it was uncomfortable, face buried in the scratchy material of the sheets, your toes curled, hands turning a burning white around Killer's large hand, you screamed, moaned, groaned, pretty much every sound imaginable as your orgasmed ripped through you once again.

He was surprised at the sheer force of your orgasm, groaning as he felt his cock twitch from deep within your slick heat.

You whimpered and babbled incoherent words at the feeling of overstimulation burning your nerves. Your pussy still squeezing and convulsing around his hard cock.

He cursed deeply under his breath, your tight warmth sucking him back in protest of feeling him pull out.

He too felt his release sneaking from behind, just a small push and he'd be diving into that ocean of pleasure.

You spurred him on with words of praise, mumbling how good he felt, gasping at how he stretched and filled you perfectly.

His hips stuttered, dick twitching deep inside as his hard muscles made contact with your softer back. He groaned deeply as he pushed himself inside once more as deeply as possible, dragging his cock against your walls as he marked you with his release.

Feeling your abused hole get stuffed full of his cum pushed you over the edge, just the feeling of being deliciously full made you convulse under him again, squealing in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

He pulled out of you agonizingly slow, making you whimper with a hidden need of wanting to be pinned under him again. He hovered over you a moment, fighting that exact same urge while watching your pussy leak his seed. He smiled to himself, knowing deep down that no other man could make you feel as he did.

He pushed two digits inside your sore cunt, stopping the flow of his cum onto your spread thighs. You made a sound, even unknown to you what it was, you knew you just couldn't take it anymore.

He pulled his fingers out, digits glistening of your juices mixed with his own. He brought them to your agape mouth, humming to himself as you wrapped your swollen lips around his fingers. Sucking them clean with a smile while attempting to tease him while circling your tongue over his fingers.

He lay next to your drained body, a thin sheet of sweat covering the two of you. Pulling you to his chest, you smiled while laying next to him.

Looks like he'd keep you around for a while.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece smut #one piece killer #killer x reader #smut #fanfic

[so-writing]

Sugar, Honey, Ice and Tea - Matthew Tkachuk (21)

all parts here

_

“Don’t tempt me,” Matthew chuckled and headed down the hall toward his bedroom, “you’re definitely not ready for that yet,” he called behind him. 

He was gone for a few minutes, leaving you standing alone in his living room and feeling weird about it. You didn’t really lie about your intentions, because you did want him, but you were still hung up on letting other people know about it. 

“Here,” he tossed a ball of clothing at you, “to wear back to your place.”

You unraveled the clump of clothing and took note of the Flames tee shirt with his name on the back and the pair of sweatpants with his number printed down the side.

“Wow, no one’s going to know where I came from with these clothes, thank you for the disguise.” 

“I want them to know. I want everyone to know that you’re wearing my name and number and I want to take you out, for real this time. No bullshit, no me showing up drunk and acting like an asshole. I want to take you out on real date.”

You wanted it, you wanted that real date so badly but you still weren’t ready to share your situation with the world. 

“Matt, I…” your response died in your mouth and you felt incredibly stupid wearing clothing with him literally written all over it.

“It can be just us and it will be here. I’ll do everything, all you have to do is show up.”

*

He was practically begging at that point but it was worth it, she was worth it. 

“Just show up? That’s it?”

Matt watched her closely, hoping she’d agree, but there was no describing how he felt when he saw her wearing his clothes, with his name and his number sewed into the fabric.

Holy fuck. He had been waiting for this. He had been waiting for someone to come into his life that was everything he wanted and more. He had been waiting for someone to become a constant, someone that was more than just a night of fun, someone that actually meant something.

He had no idea she would come in the form of someone who initially hated him and still probably might just a little bit, but he wasn’t bothered by that. Matthew knew what he wanted, and as much as his past self might have argued, he had always known. Soulmates were probably bullshit but if they weren’t, he was pretty sure who his was. 

“That’s it, I promise.”

“Fine.” 

“You want me to walk you back to yours?”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure your name on my back will give everyone a pretty good indication of who I’m with.”

“You’re with me?”

Her cheeks lit up red but she rolled her eyes and gently slapped him on the shoulder, “your name is on my back. I’m also pretty sure I can make the hike to the elevator by myself, good morning, Matthew Tkachuk.”

He never planned on falling in love, but he knew she was special and it just kind of happened.

*

You didn’t immediately strip out of the clothing Matt had given you and that was the first indication that you needed to fucking cool it. You pulled the sleeve of the shirt to your nose and inhaled the smell of his fabric softener. 

“Ugh,” you looked down at Onyx rubbing against your legs, “he uses the expensive shit.”

It had been an interesting morning but you needed to get to work and get your shit together.

++

You were running late to work and to make matters worse, you had a meeting with the coaches that you were incredibly close to missing. Nearly sprinting into the conference room at the last minute, you took your seat and a calming breath. The meeting was mostly a blur until you were addressed directly. 

“You’re being presented with a new opportunity.”

*

Matt had yet to see her that day but he’d been hearing that she was supposed to have a meeting so he hung around the general area of the conference rooms, hoping to catch her after it was over. She arrived in a rush and gave him a quick wave before heading inside. He wasn’t invited into the conference room but he was able to look through the window and he saw the look of surprise on her face and he knew what was happening.

She was being presented with a new job, and it wasn’t with the Flames.

Just when they were starting to finally fucking figure it out, she was going to be ripped away from him. He couldn’t let that happen, he couldn’t lose her. If she was going to leave, he was going to follow her. 

*

The pay was only slightly better than your current salary but taking a job with the Philadelphia Flyers would bring you closer to home and that was definitely something to think about. Taking a job with the Flyers was mostly full of pros but there was only a single con that mattered— Matthew Tkachuk.

He was waiting outside the conference room, dressed in full uniform, and he looked about as stressed as you felt.

“What the fuck are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be on the ice?” 

“Yeah, but I heard you had a meeting and I had to know what was up.”

“Matt, you’re literally on skates and in pads, go to practice.” 

“What happened in your meeting?”

“Go to practice,” you pushed past him and headed toward your office but he wasn’t giving up. 

“You’re leaving aren’t you?”

That stopped you dead in your tracks but you couldn’t turn around and face his question. 

“I haven’t decided yet.” 

*

“I haven’t decided yet.”

It wasn’t his place to say anything and it definitely wasn’t his business but that didn’t stop him from grabbing her shoulder and spinning her around to face him.

“Don’t leave. Please?”

“Matt, I don’t know, I haven’t made any decisions.”

He wasn’t interested in her response and ignored it entirely, instead pulling her into his chest and pressing his lips against hers. They moved in sync for only a moment until she was pushing him away. 

“You can’t just do that! I could lose my job! Fucking go to practice, Matt!”

++

She was well aware of their date. He had made sure of it. 

She was also fourteen minutes late and he was starting to get worried that she wouldn’t show. Maybe he had fucked up too many times for her to let it go, maybe she had taken the job with the Flyers and she was already gone. 

Matt paced back and forth in his living room, freaking the fuck out, until a soft knock at his door interrupted his negative thoughts.

“Hi, Matt.” 

“Hey. I didn’t think you were coming.” 

“I’m sorry for being late. The Calgary Flames don’t care if you have plans outside of work.”

“I get it, experience and all, come on in.”

He noticed right away that she was wearing a pair of jeans and the shirt he had given her with his name on the back. 

“I like your shirt, good number and solid name.”

“You think? I like the name but I kinda wish the number was a seven instead.”

“Fuck you,” they both laughed at that as Matt lead her into the kitchen. 

“You’re fucking kidding?”

“I'm not.” 

“Holy shit.” 

*

The spread in front of you was everything you could ever want. Matt had pulled out all the stops and gotten takeout from your favorite diner, Mexican restaurant, Italian place, and Taco Bell. There was more than enough food to feed the entire Flames team. 

“I wasn’t sure what you like, so I made sure there were a lot of options.”

“Are you lying?”

You looked up at him and noticed his cheeks flush as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, “yeah. I might have asked around.” 

“We’ll never be able to eat all of this.”

“I know. I was thinking that, if you’re fine with it, we invite some of the guys and their partners over later. Only if you’re cool with it though, I said it would be just us and I meant it.”

If you agreed, this would be your coming out party with Matt. Everyone would know that you were some sort of something and you still weren’t sure if you were ready for it. 

“We’ll see, I’m sorry.”

“No need to be sorry. We’re on your terms tonight.” 

This was not the man you met two years ago. This was not the man with a shitty attitude and a chip on his shoulder that he took out on everyone. This was not the man that told you to sleep on the floor because he wouldn’t get into bed unless you did. 

This was a different man entirely. 

This was a different Matthew Tkachuk and you kind of hated how much you really fucking liked him. 

#Matthew Tkachuk #Matthew Tkachuk imagine #matt tkachuk #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

[imhereforvibesandkneecaps]

Run and hide

Jock bully Sero x y/n

Inspired by @miggiisdumb (Ily queen❤❤)

Warnings : sex, primal play, blood, overstimulation, drug use +18

MNI DO NOT INTERACT YOU LIL SHITS

you ran, you had to. You didn't know why you agreed to this, you were just sitting on your couch only an hour ago, with your roommate Mina, who dragged you to a party. At the party, the host of it, Bakugo, had the grand idea of playing a game of truth or dare. A pretty stupid idea, you thought to yourself. But he was drunk so that might've been the reason he came up with this dumb idea. A bunch of people sat in a circle, you sitting next to Mina. Bakugo was setting the rules up, and you weren't listening. You had been spacing out for maybe ten minutes, until you noticed Mina elbowing you in the ribs. It jolted you out of your day dream to start paying attention to your surroundings. You noticed that one of bakugo's friends was pointing at you, with a big grin on his face. He had black hair tied up in a small ponytail and a piercing on his eyebrow. He wore a black hair of sweatpants and a jacket he got from being on the basketball team. He had dark eyes, with his scleras red from smoking weed. "Y/n. You got about an hour to avoid me around the campus."

"what?" You ask cluelessly. It was clear you hadn't been paying attention, at all. "And if you find me?" Mina sighed loudly.

"you're not allowed to ask, its his choice. If you had paid attention you would've known. Now go! You got about five minutes to hide!" She squealed happily. She pushed you up and out of the house. You were still dumbfounded. You came to the realization that they might've just kicked you out of the house because you were being boring. You sighed, annoyed and just started walking towards your hoise, because Mina drove you guys here. You started walking, but you felt some sort of anxiety, so you checked your phone to see the time. It was 1:43 am, you left the house two minutes ago by now. You started to walk A little faster, being a bit paranoid. You started to text Mina, embarrassed and angry. 'If you wanted me to leave you could've just asked instead of embarrassing me in front of anyone.' You pressed send and sighed, annoyed. About two minutes later you got a text back 'gurl, you better start running, Sero is about to leave the house to get you.' You scoff and text her back 'haha real funny asshole, just know when I get home I aint helping you with setting up your room anymore.' You check the time again. 1:47 am. You feel even more anxious, and Mina texts back, scaring you a bit. "He just left the house, you got about an hour Y/n good luck!" You almost yell, you're annoyed that she keeps going on with this stupid bit, but you still feel this feeling of unease around you. "Yeah sure, fuck you and your friends. " you put your phone in your pocket and keep walking. You hear a noise behind you and you snap your head back quickly behind you. There was nothing, you sigh and scold yourself for being paranoid. You keep walking to your house until you're maybe a block away from it. You go and text Mina again 'yeah, I don't see your little friend around here. Thanks for making me walk home btw🖕' you shove your phone in your pocket and keep walking. You hear a ding from your phone, she texts back 'you're no fun! And he is, you don't have to believe me until he gets you. Have fun, btw he thinks you're cute so I hope you think he is too.' You sigh and just look at the time. 2:03 am. Whatever, you shouldn't care. You get closer to your house until you hear a sound of footsteps behind you. You look behind you and see nothing, and take a deep breath. "No one is there, dumbass." You mumble to your self

"well now y/n you sound like bakugo right now. Don't know if it fits you chica." You freeze. Holy shit. You turn around to face Sero. He had a grin on his face still, but it seemed to be a bit darker. "Ill count to ten before I start running after you, Mi Amor." He whispers. You were still frozen, your face heating up. "Uno....dos..." He starts counting. You start running past him. He's now on 5, you keep running. Now were in the present, you're still running as fast as you can. You get to your house, but you know you can't make it through the front door, you didn't have a key and the password would waste time. So you go for the backdoor. You go through the fence door to the back yard and to the backdoor. You feel a sense of a relief. Until you see the reflection on you on the glass on the door... And Sero's. Your blood runs cold. You try to open the door but its too late. He grabs you roughly and slams you against the grass of your backyard. "Should've been faster Chica." He says darkly.

"get off of me you Fuck!" You yell. This doesn't stop him, it fuels him more now. He grabs his phone and takes a photo of you and him. You feel humiliated and scared, and slightly.... Aroused?

"no can do Chica. I won, you were too slow, so I get to do what I want now. " he says with a smile. You look at him taking off his jacket, he had a black wife beater on. Fuck he looked good on him. You were just glad that the back porch lights were on. "Relax pretty girl, ill make it enjoyable." He whispers in your ear, sensually. You can feel your breath hitch as he starts to peel off your leggings. You feel yourself getting more aroused. Fuck, this can't be happening. He slid his hands down to your bare thighs. "fuck, so fucking sexy Chica. Can't wait to taste." You heard a ripping noise and felt your wrists being tied up. He sat you up against the backdoor. Your bottom now exposed to this feral looking man. He looked you straight in your eyes and without a warning shove two fingers in your cunt. You let a squeal of surprise " well, I need to prep you darling. " you glare at him "hey don't get mad at me, you lost." He grinned. He started to curl his fingers. You felt yourself tightening against this new feeling, You arch your back as a result. "You're so pretty like this." He coos

"fuck you asshole." You say breathlessly.

"that's the plan sweetheart." He throws your legs over his shoulders out of nowhere. You felt a soft tongue against your clit. You gasped and twitch at the feeling. "Fuck, so fucking good." He murmers something in Spanish that you couldn't understand and starts to suck against your folds. This makes you moan out loud and buck your hips, god why did it have to feel so good? He Slurped and sucked against your cunt, happy you were moaning, knowing it was a sign he was doing it right. You were sopping wet at this point and your eyes were brimming with tears. He kept kissing your cunt. "Good girl, wanna cum? Wanna cum for me, like a pretty little slut?" He asked, shoving his fingers in and out of you. You whine and nod your head vigourusly, you felt so close to coming. You needed to, you needed to cum so badly.

"please, fuck, please Sero." You beg, like a dumb slut. He pulls out his fingers, you were so close, so so so close. You start to cry. "You jerk! I was so fucking close" you cry out, this earns you a harsh slap against the ass. You hiss at the pain. He lays you down and starts to pull down his pants, you felt so hot and airy now.

"calm down chica, you will." He Pulls down his underwear and his cock springs free, slapping against his stomach, it was long and thick. You were worried it wasn't gonna fit. He rubs his hands against your cunt, making you squeal again, and rubs your juices against his cock. He positions himself against your cunt and puts one hand on your face. "This might hurt." He whispers. With no warning he shoves himself in, immediately bottoming out. You short circuit a little as your body clenched around his intrusion. He groans happily and starts chuckling "fuck yeah" he mutters breathlessly. "so fucking tight, Im gonna fucking ruin you, you sweet little bitch." He grabs you by the hair and starts pounding into you, you moan and scream with every thrust. He would bite against your neck and legs and ripped off your shirt like an animal. He dove right for your breasts while still pounding you without even slowing down. He licked and but at your nipples harshly and slapped your ass anytime you cussed. You were covered in hickeys and bite marks, which some of them even bled, which he licked obviously. You felt so close again, you wanted to grab him but your arms were tied up, so you lay your head against his chest.

"please let me cum.." you whisper in his ear, this made him even more feral. He started to pound into you harder. You felt him bite against your shoulder really hard as he pushed into you, he sounded like he was growling almost.

"Wanna fucking cum? Wanna cum like the little slut you are? Ill let you cum pretty girl." You felt him bully your cervix even harder until you squirted everwhere, on his stomach, both of your guy's thighs and the floor. You moan out weakly from your high and you hear him huff. He went back to pounding you though. "wait! S-Sero! I just came I ca-" he silences you with another slap to the ass, that was definitely gonna leave a mark.

"you wanted to fucking cum right, Mi amor? Well your gonna cum until you can't fucking talk and Im gonna cum until Im all out, got it?" You nodded helplessly as he pummels into you relentlessly he made you cum god knows how many times now, and you couldn't talk anymore and everything was hazy. Your body was covered in hand prints, bruises, hickeys and bite marks. Once he finally came, his moan sounded so angelic to your ears. You felt his warmth in you, it was so thick and hot, and you wanted it all in your tummy, which he was planning on doing. He grabs you by the neck and slams into you again, this goes on for god knows how long until you two are finally fucked out. By this point the sun was starting to come up and you could hear Mina's car pull up. You didn't care at this point and you and sero looked at the fence and saw Mina poke her head of the corner and made eye contact with both of tou. You two were both completely naked and she covers her eyes and yells,

"I told you I wasn't lying!" Sero started to chuckle and finally released your hands and rubbed your wrists. "good work MI amor. Next time we do this, try to run faster though, its fun watching you get scared." He then kissed your wrist and put on his sweatpants and brought you inside the house, you still being completely naked and walked past Mina. He brought you to your room and laid you on the bed and kissed your head and whispered loving words to you as you fell asleep. You gotta thank Mina for dragging you to that party after all.

IM FINISHED HELL YEAH!!

Tags : @miggiisdumb

#sero x yn #bnhasmut

[saebyeog-i]

soft | njm (m)

genre | office romance au / slight humor, smut lol

rating/warnings | stream of consciousness bs / alcohol consumption / semi public sex {oral, m receiving; mentions of breathplay} / slightly unedited whoops

word count | drabble! 2.1k because I don’t know how to shut up

pairing | IT Worker!Jaemin x reader

—

When you start your new job, you realize pretty quickly that Jaemin from IT wears sweaters all the time in the office. Even in the summer. Even when it’s 95 degrees outside, because he gets cold easily and they always blast the AC too much indoors.

He’s a very soft and unassuming character, and he’s the youngest person on his team by at least ten years, and during your first meeting when he’s getting your work station set up in your office he tells you he just likes that he gets paid to play around with computers all day and that’s why he keeps the job.

“Couldn’t you be a software engineer or something? Make far more money and not have to answer dumb computer questions all the time?” You ask offhandedly, and then realize you’ve insinuated that he’s paid poorly. You attempt to back pedal your statement, but he’s not the least bit offended.

He chuckles, eyes crinkling and he shakes his head. “I get paid plenty well for this job, and besides, I never have any tight deadlines or work overtime. I don’t exactly dream of extra and strenuous labor.”

He wears sweaters that are two sizes too big for him, made up of bright obnoxious colors and gaudy patterns that would usually make you fake vomit at seeing them on a real life human. But he makes them look charming, somehow. Grandpa sweaters, you call them, even to his face, with patterns that just make you gag. Never a sweater vest, mind you, only ever a full pull over knit sweater, with the occasional cardigan over a long sleeve turtleneck. Over time, you see a variety of patterns and colors, and you think he must have an endless supply of them.

You’re not bad with computers by any means, but you do like to bat your eyelashes and have other people do things for you when you can. You’re admittedly a little bit lazy, not stupid, and besides, he’s much faster at fixing any issues than you are, why waste time trying to figure it out yourself?

You think it’s cute, the way he smiles with his eyes and chuckles quietly whenever he comes to your office to fulfill a help desk ticket. You like the way he smiles at you and the way he’ll compliment your outfits, how soft and unassuming his words always are, and never cringe worthy like that older man in marketing who thinks he’s being nice but is in fact just being slightly creepy. When you tell your roommate about Jaemin from IT complimenting your new dress in the kitchen as you made your morning coffee, she asks if you have a thing for him because of how often you bring him up in your stories from work.

“Oh, no, definitely not— he’s soft, but a little too soft, you know? Need me a bit of a freak, someone who wouldn’t be opposed to like, I dunno, choking me if I said I was into that,” you sigh, trying to imagine the soft and pixie-like Jaemin from IT with his hands around your neck. It doesn’t compute. “Besides, I think he puts like, eight shots of espresso in his coffee, his cum probably tastes like battery acid,” you sigh into your yogurt as your roommate crinkles her nose one morning before you both depart for work. You move on from the brief idea, and think you’ll stick to just enjoying sweet and innocent Jaemin that wears oversizes sweaters from afar instead.

On anyone else, the fashion sense would be annoying.

But not on Jaemin.

He’s soft and squishy and kind of adorable with the way he scrunches up his nose when he laughs, and the endearing way he explains to the older company employees how to run the Microsoft Office automatic software updates to get the latest version of Excel and PowerPoint. He does his best to teach them how to do it on their own to give them a sense of accomplishment and understanding of the technology they rely on but seem to have no hope at operating beyond the basic level needed for their jobs (but still doing it for them anyways, with patience and a smile and never a complaint).

It’s an attractive quality, you have to admit, and if he wasn’t the walking embodiment of marshmallow fluff you’d think more about him. But he is, so you don’t, and instead sigh out loud as you watch him huff and blow the fluffy bangs out of his eyes as he’s crouched under your desk, re-running the wires for your office phone.

You’ve always had a bad habit of mumbling your thoughts out loud when you’re distracted, and sometimes he’ll catch you cursing out the equipment or your supervisors for not knowing the difference between something you’d deem as basic for your department or field. He finds it charming, thinks it makes you more candid and honest and it’s a different side of you than the one who bats her eyelashes and files help desk tickets when she could easily do something herself. You’re taken aback by this comment, because you didn’t count him for someone that would keep track of something like that, which you admit to him in slight disbelief.

“Oh believe me, I’m more observant than you think I am,” he chimes mysteriously as his fingers glide across your keyboard, entering his admin password to run another round of program installations and software upgrades.

You don’t think much of it when he’s the only person who fulfills your tickets for six months straight.

Not until the holiday party, anyways.

At the holiday party, it’s an open bar and everyone is dressed UP up. You expect to see Jaemin in another grandpa print sweater two sizes too big for him— that is, if the soft boy shows at all. Company holiday parties like this don’t scream ‘Jaemin from IT’ at you, given that from what your more seasoned coworkers have told you about years past, after tonight you can expect at least one person to end up suspended or fired for behavior; that and the Company President gives everyone an Uber code for a free ride home since they already know how absolutely wasted everyone plans on getting.

To your surprise, Jaemin from IT does in fact show up at the holiday party. You spot him as soon as he enters, about an hour into the party itself, and he slips into the crowd and makes his way to the bar. You were expecting a tacky Christmas sweater on him, but instead, he’s dressed in the exact opposite.

Instead, he’s got his hair styled up (a first, and you never realized how badly you wanted to see his forehead before) and instead of a gaudy array of colors and patterns, he’s wearing a nicely tailored suit in a rich wine color with a black button down underneath.

When he waves from across the room and approaches you just to be friendly and say hi, you’re definitely caught off guard enough that you don’t realize you’ve mumbled out “How is that fair? How can he look like THAT outside of a sweater and then not let me just suck his dick right here?”

Jaemin blinks for a moment, taken by surprise, when he realizes it’s that same candid habit of yours and you haven’t realized you’ve said it out loud. His mouth curls into a smile and he presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek and gets nice and close, close enough to flirtatiously whisper “Well if you insist, though I’m sure we could find somewhere a bit more... private.”

And then you’re so caught off guard by confident sexy suit wearing Jaemin you think he’s read your mind for until you realize what you said out loud. But he’s into the idea given the fact that he doesn’t run in fear from your words and fuck it, so are you, and he’s not just cute and squishy anymore he’s fucking hot in that suit and with his dark hair styled just so, so you feel flirty and courageous when you say “You know I think I like the suit over the grandpa sweaters, but I think I’d like the suit even better on the floor.”

After the way his mouth ticks upward in a smile, the movements are all a blur that you can’t quite separate out into discrete events: downing you drink, linking hands with him, scurrying off towards the single occupancy restroom furthest from the dance floor and bolting the lock so you can be sure as shit that when your lips crash against his and then your knees hit the floor there will be no interruptions.

“Funny,” you say, trailing kisses down his throat after a moment, “Never thought I’d see you as anything but soft.” The admittance and double entendre are entirely intentional and you know that he knows.

“Seems like now’s a good as time as any to pay back all those superfluous ticket requests,” he breaths out, and your lips curl into a grin as your fingers find their way to his belt and tug his dress pants down.

“If you insist,” you tease back his words from earlier, sinking to your knees all too happily.

You take him into your mouth easily, relishing in the groans and shaky exhales that comes from his perfect lips as his fingers thread through your hair and his grip tightens. A fire deep in your belly ignites at the noises, enjoying how easily you can make the man you thought so soft and unassuming fall apart at just a run of your tongue and a hollowing of your cheeks.

“Fucking shit don’t do that unless—”

He’s cut off by his own groan as you run your tongue along his slit once before taking him as afar back in your throat as you can manage, then he’s cumming in your mouth with a high pitched shaky whine.

When he’s finished, you make an obscene show of his cum in your mouth for him and curl your tongue back as you swallow, wiping away the excess saliva with the heel of your palm. “Pay back enough?” You ask surreptitiously as you rise back to your feet, dusting off the skirt of your cocktail dress.

Jaemin from IT digs his fingers into your hips and pulls you close to him, a growl deep in the back of his throat before his lips clash against yours, “All that and then some.”

His fingers link with yours after as he hurriedly drags you from the bathroom to the exit of the venue, waving haphazardly at his team members before launching the ride share app and tapping in the provided code for that free ride. “I meant it when I said your wardrobe is both flattering and professional,” he hums, “But out of respect for your sense of style, I’ll refrain from tearing any garment off of you and provide a hangar for it instead. Deal?”

The words are so forward and presumptuous. You can’t help but feel a little turned on by the action, however, and find yourself scoffing as you smile and stick a hand out for him to shake, “Deal.”

So even though you’d maybe been hoping to get a bit more free alcohol out of the company holiday party, you’re celebrating some much better company some thirty, forty minutes later, once you’re out of the car and your bare back is pressed against the locked front door of his apartment as Jaemin from IT fucks into you in a way that is the absolute opposite from soft, just as he’d promised. And when you’d moaned it out and asked, he happily agreed to (delicately, tenderly) lay his hand on your throat and apply pressure.

Your expensive cocktail dress rests on a hanger on the coat rack in his living room, just like he’d promised. You don’t put it back on until the following afternoon. And then again a year later, when you enter the company holiday party arm in arm with Jaemin from IT— Na Jaemin, you’d finally learned and committed to memory his last name after that first night, who was now your boyfriend.

“You know I didn’t take you for an outfit repeater,” he teases, this year arriving on time (at your behest) and wearing an all black suit save for the glittering of the jeweled pinstripes on his jacket.

You roll your eyes and tug him towards you by his neck tie. “Who’s fault is it that not enough people got to appreciate this dress last year, hm?”

He looks up in thought playfully for a moment before answering, “The sweaters?”

You press another kiss to his lips, this one a little less aggressively and a little bit softer (like you liked him, you’d come to find out) and reply, “Yeah, definitely the sweaters.”

—

author’s note | I originally wrote this in my dm’s to Clover half asleep at 6:30 in the morning on a Saturday and she told me she’d sue if I didn’t post it, so, here, lol have the expanded version that I wrote after chugging a glass of Reisling and a shot of Jameson at 10pm last night.

#let's #try this #one more time sigh #get your shit together tumblr #fix your damn tags sigh #jaemin fanfic #jaemin fluff #jaemin smut #nct fanfic #nct fluff #nct smut #-sighs- clover what have you done to me #swamp witch writes

[internalsealpanic]

Thorn part 2

summary: You really should check who’s watching or not. 

a/n: My quest to cram as many kinks into a fic continues. Special thanks to @littleredwing89​ for helping me finish this and proof reading.  Also, yes, I am trying to convert as many people as humanly possibel into Slade simps

warnings: voyeurism, exhibitionism, bondage, blindfolds, degredation-ish, spreader bar, threesome, (what do you call stuffing panties into someone’s mouth), oral (male receiving), vaginal fingering, orgasm denial, dirty talk, spanking and probably somethings I forgot.

villain’s masterlist

main masterlist

part 1

Something’s been bothering you for the last few days- an itching in the back of your mind that made the nerves in your hands prickle even as you leafed through the notes piled high on your desk. You flex your fingers, reading over a transcript of a witness’ statement. There was something wrong. 

 “Give us a good show.”

 Us

 Heat trails up your neck at the memory of his skin against yours but it also agitated something in you. It was probably nothing but the way he said it bothered you. There was something you were missing. A joke. A hint. A pun. Something. Maybe you just hung around Nicky too much. Maybe, but that didn’t still your mind. It was Slade.

 You haul March’s fluffy body on to your lap. She rumbles but makes no move to get up even as you thread your hands through her thick fur. In some lazy retaliation, she pads her little front paws against your papers but you don’t find yourself minding since you’re already too distracted.  You gaze into her dark fur, a sea of black pooling and shifting on your lap like a dark mass of shadows. Your mind buzzes with too many details. That night was cluttered with too many… sensations. You cup your hand over your face feeling the heat rising on your cheeks.  March’s ears perk up and the inky mass in your lap twists to face you. Her golden eyes leering at you questioningly. 

 Us

 Your stomach plunges. You remember Slade's eye, how carefully it inspected the corners of the room, how it would wander to them while you were… The prickling in your mind told you something was wrong. You set your notes down to the side and begin to move March but she yawns contentedly on your lap so you let her be.  You drag your laptop closer to you, arching your back carefully so as not to move March. The scratching in the back of your mind definitely has something to do with the Thorn. Who knows maybe it was something relevant to the case this whole time? The dread rising in your stomach says otherwise. 

 Then there it was. Of course, it was in the fucking fine print. 

 High ranking clientele have 1 week to accept or decline the option to keep their private room videos private.  

 You swore viciously, putting your face in your hands. Your blood rushes to your ears. Of course, they would have cameras! You groan curling in on yourself. March bristles and shifts trying to pry your body open but you can’t make yourself budge not when you just want to implode. March, having given up on your sorry ass, squeezes her way out of your hold and hisses at you as if to tell you off. 

 “Yes, March. I know. I know. Oh my god- Shit, I know.”

 Her judging gaze did not waver even as she flicked her tail at your papers. You look at her pleadingly but she does not relent and even turns away from you. God, even your cat thinks you’re an absolute dumbass. Did Sita know? Did Nina? Did Anthony? Sita, probably not. She wouldn’t throw you under the bus like that. Ok, she would but not this badly. Nina, yeah probably. Anthony, definitely. But those two probably thought you were ok with it. This was such an amateur move. 

 You bite your lip and drum your fingers against the keyboard staring at the clock on the corner of your screen. Your eyes flick to your eyes to your notes and the grumpy cat making a nest out of your papers. There wasn’t much you could do with the case right now, not until Sasha made good on her end of the bargain. That would likely not be for a few hours and …

 You didn’t exactly trust Slade to keep this between the two of you. Besides, shit like this? Shit like this had a bad habit of leaking to other sites and whatever weight you pulled in the force would vanish in an instant. You ruffle your hair in frustration. Of all the mistakes you could make, why him? 

 “Such a good cockslut.”

 You bury your face in your arms as the heat creeps up to your ears. Out of habit, you put some pressure on the back of your neck but instead of quieting your mind, it slung your mind back to when Slade’s hand wrapped around your neck. You could still feel his calloused fingers grazing your sensitive skin, his breath fanning against your shoulder. How the hell were you supposed to fight him when the mere thought of him made you so flustered?! You were a goddamn professional! You want to scream or to be swallowed by the floor or both. Both sounds better. 

 You sigh, exasperation bleeding through the sound. You don’t regret it. Not really. You just wished this wouldn’t end up being career suicide. Sadly, you weren’t lucky. March’s tail flicked angrily at the thought. You say a nasally apology. She, appropriately enough, does not accept your apology. 

 You look at your phone. 1 AM. The thorn should be busy right now, meaning the guards should have their hands full.  You could definitely- Fuck it. You need to delete that thing. 

You spring out of your bed, launching yourself out the door not bothering to change out of your pajamas aside from throwing on a jacket and a pair of tennis shoes. It would be a quick in and out job if you did it correctly. 

 “See ya, March! Don’t wait up!” you call out from the door, waving your jingling keys. The sound makes March stir but she doesn’t look at you. You snort but the fondness in your features wins over the anxiety and the annoyance. 

“March?” Anthony’s voice rises above the echo of sensual music coming from the main room. You freeze, the movements of your limbs stuttering along with your heartbeat. “Uh hey,” you answer, voice infinitely more stilted than you were envisioning. 

 In the low light, you can see Anthony tilting his head, a wrinkle of concern marring his perfect brow. “I thought you were supposed to be off for a day or two since-” his statement falters when his eyes flicker to the hickeys dotting your skin. You fight down the urge to zip up your hoodie. “-since Mr. Wilson likes to play rough.” Anthony continues both from not really being able to stop the words and the need to get more information out of you. 

 You smile easily. For once, you’re thankful for the low lighting of the club. The corners of your lips twitch unconvincingly. “I- Mr. Wilson called me about an hour ago and told me to meet him here- same room- He said something about an offer and considering the tip he gave me… I found it hard to turn down.” You lie, shrugging your shoulders casually and giving him a look roughly translating to ‘eh what can ya do’. You will your muscles not to wince or fidget. Maybe your lie would be convincing enough. 

 Finally, after a long pause, Anthony gives you a knowing look and says “Well, don’t let him work you too hard.” You give Anthony a wry smile unsure what to say. “I won’t. Promise.” 

 You wait for Anthony to disappear before letting your shoulders roll into a slump. You wonder if he’s ever…

 You shake your head. That wasn’t your business but that doesn’t stop your mind from wandering. 

 The security guard in charge of the monitors was almost insultingly easy to take out. Given, he had his hand crammed down his pants and he wasn’t exactly paying attention to the surroundings. Then again, could you really blame him when part of his job is just watching porn?

 You drag his unconscious body to the closet, jamming the door with the guard’s chair. You would think this place could afford a rolly chair. Nope. You suppose they had to cut corners somewhere. They probably should have cut it at the cameras but then again you weren’t the one running the joint. 

 Just as with the guard, getting into the system was fairly easy. The universe may be telling you something. It likely was but you ignored it in favor of the screen lighting up with dozens of thumbnails of naked men and women. You fight down the spike of embarrassment that rises in your chest. The idea that one of these guards watched you as you… It was mortifying but something in your stomach stirred. It was a mix of humiliation and something unexpectedly warm. You shake your head doing your best to ignore the feeling bubbling in your stomach. 

 Underneath each thumbnail was what you assumed to be the client’s initials and what looked to be the dates of each video. Well, they’re horny but organized which really helps you. You type in ‘S.W.’ just to shorten your agony. 

 The screen flickers again and when it lights up with another set of thumbnails, your mouth dries and the blood rushes to your face and to your groin. You bite out a curse for letting your eyes wander to the images. The first one your eyes land on has his back facing the camera in all his naked glory. You scan the image, eyes tracing over the scars littered all over his body and the rippling back muscles you could only see through his shirt. You groan in frustration. You can feel yourself growing wetter. Because of course, you didn’t account for your body’s reaction to him factoring into the speed of your work. You slip up and play one of the videos, the vulgar sounds permeating the room and reverberating in your bones. You scramble to pause the video. A part of you is hesitant to. The better, more logical part of you wins out. It was either propriety or jealousy that won out. Either way, you weren’t eager to investigate, not when the aching between your legs made itself so pronounced. You swear but it came out more whiny and breathless. You tighten your grip on the desk and the mouse. You had to find this thing before you turn into a runny mess on the floor. 

“If you wanted a copy, Kitten, you could have just asked,” a gravelly voice drawls into your ear. You attempt to twist, your body brushing up against something solid. Strong arms and a toned body cages you against the desk. The man certainly knows how to use his large build to his advantage.  You twist and wriggle, a mix of irritation and panic traveling up your spine. Behind you, Slade groans as your ass brushes against his growing bulge. You freeze. Heat creeps up your face and a swelling pool of warmth in your groin makes itself known. The close proximity makes your hackles draw up with all the force of the ‘fuck you’ you felt but you reign it in along with the shiver suffusing through your frame. 

 You take a steadying breath. “How the hell did you know I was here?” you snarl, voice caustic. Unaffected and more amused than anything, Slade leans in closer, his hot breath fanning against your neck. You shiver. Your nose is overpowered by the mix of musk and gin permeating off of him. The scent was delightfully potent making you squirm in discomfort. 

 Slade kisses up your neck, taking his time answering. His teeth catch at your skin once or twice making you gasp. This feels so good. The thrum under your skin worsens. Your mind was starting to become fuzzy with anticipation. This man was definitely trying to kill you. 

 “Anthony told me,” Slade says in between kisses, and the anger that statement should have drawn out of you was nowhere to be seen.  “He told me that you were waiting for me in my usual room. Imagine my surprise when you were nowhere to be seen.” You roll your eyes at him. 

  “Let’s see what you’ve been looking at, Sweetheart,” Slade murmurs against your skin, his lips brushing against your jaw as he maneuvers the mouse away from you. A large hand settles on your hip, calloused fingers toying with the top of your shorts as his thumb traces circles against your bare skin. You whine and lean into his touch not even minding the obvious distraction. 

 You feel him smile against your skin as he reads through the dates on screen. You know he could just zip through these dates, his meta powers enhancing the rate at which his mind processes things.  You know he’s only slowing down to make sure you see the sheer volume of videos he has. Your mind tries desperately to shrink away, to carve out some sort of irritation or maybe even disgust but all you could feel was a rampant tinge of jealousy and you weren’t entirely sure what to make of it. 

 The obscene sound of your desperate moans fills the room, making you flush with embarrassment. On the screen, you watch as your fingers dip in and out of your core. The slick sounds blaring from the speaker make you drip and clench together but you do not look away. Your eyes are fixed on your trembling limbs and your gasping, kiss-bitten lips. You can feel it even now, the way your body greedily soaked up the sinful atmosphere. Your body aches from the memory. 

 You yelp when Slade’s fingers slip past the waistband of your shorts. You buck against his touch, letting his calloused fingers brush up against the bare lips of your pussy. “You making a habit out of not wearing underwear around me?” Slade teases bringing you out of your haze only through the need to defend your last bit of dignity but whatever sharp or witty comeback you have dies on your lips when he curls his fingers inside you. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

 So much for your dignity. 

 Your hips rock against his hand, doing your best to fuck yourself on his fingers and brushing against his bulge. Sure, you were horny as all hell but that didn’t mean you weren’t still the pettiest little shit in existence. You close your eyes and look away from the screen trying to concentrate on the feeling of his hands inside you. But you can’t deny how the sounds from the video made this way hotter than it already was. Gripping your neck with his hand, Slade forces you to look back at the screen.  

 You open your eyes and see yourself bouncing desperately on Slade’s engorged cock. You groan, pussy clenching on his thick digits.

 “Such a good cockslut, look at how well that tight cunt of yours is taking me in.”

 Shame ravages your entire body as you hear yourself pant and whine at the statement. You recoil looking away wanting nothing more than to dissolve into seafoam at the moment. You don’t get to revel in your shame when the hand on your neck shifts and is pushing you down and closer to the screen. “Didn’t I tell you to keep watching, Kitten?”

 “Yes, sir,” you breathe, mouth pressed against the meat of your arm. You try to concentrate on the video- the needy little noises you try to bite back, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, the wet squelching noises as his cock drills into you. You really do. 

 You hear the click of the mouse. Your eyes watch as another video loads. On the screen, Slade rolls up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, showing off his powerful forearms. There is a woman on the bed blindfolded, obediently keeping her arms in place as Slade binds her limbs to the bedposts with silk ribbons. Her parted legs show off the slick between her thighs flowing down to the sheets. Wordlessly, Slade drags a riding crop against her sensitive hole. You groan almost loud enough to snuff out her cries for him. A prickle of jealousy tugging at you makes you go rigid under his touch. 

 “Jealous, kitten?” he whispers, hand sliding into your shirt, large hand grasping the soft round flesh of your breast. You shuffle trying to kick him but stop when you feel him roll your nipples between his fingers. In the reflection on the screen, you can see him leering at your face twisting in reluctant pleasure. You can feel it against your ear. “Don’t worry, I have plenty of ideas for a good little slut like you.” You hear another click.  

 In the next video, the first thing that registers is a high keen, a mangled version of Slade’s name,  accompanied by a low buzz. In the corner of the screen, Slade’s toying with a remote, flicking the slider up and down with no real thought behind it. The woman whines, a frustrated sound, and you can understand the frustration as you grind your barely clothed pussy against the swell of Slade’s cock. 

 “Sir, please- Ah!”

 “Please, what, sweetheart?” he coos, turning the vibrator inside her back down to the lowest setting. 

 “Plea-” her plea is cut off by Slade flicking it back up to the highest setting then back down. You make a strangled noise of frustration at both the Slade behind you and the one on screen. 

 “Sir, please. Your cock. I need it. Please fill me up.” Tears are streaming down her face. Slade uncrosses his legs and stands up, smiling like he’s just been served something particularly delectable. “Such a good slut,” he purrs, turning the power back up to the highest setting. 

 The camera angle changes. You watch as Slade’s engorged cock sinks into her fold, vibrator still buzzing inside her. “You think you can take something like that? Can your tight little cunt of yours take that much?”

 “Yes, sir,” you answer, rolling your ass against him. He grunts and you grin into your arm. “This tight little cunt can take your large cock,” mouth shaping itself, showing off your pretty lips, “and whatever else you can give me” you say, voice breathy but even. You inject all the cocksure you can into the words trying to sound more challenging rather than pleading. Slade chuckles into your flesh. “We’ll see, kitten.”  

 Slade clicks on another video.  The camera trails over the swell of a woman’s ass down to her sopping core. Her face is pressed against the leather cushions of her couch while her limbs are locked to a spreader bar leaving her open and helpless to Slade’s ministrations. Slade, in all his naked glory, pumps his leaking cock lining it up against her greedy hole. She’s shaking and whimpering, trying to push her ass flush against him but his bruising grip keeps her in place. She cries out and your walls clench on nothing when Slade plunges his cock roughly into her folds. You whimper and buck against him, mimicking the way her ass bounces against his hips. The movement draws out a sharp ‘fuck’ from Slade’s clenched teeth. His thumbs press into the dimples of your back as he pins your hips to the table.   

 “Do you want me to fuck you like I fucked her?” he asks, threading his hand through your hair and yanking you up to his chest. You gasp, the pain making your blood sing.  “Do you want that, kitten?” You nod. “Take off your shirt.” Slade pulls himself back, still pinning your hips against the table with his. You shimmy out of your shirt and jacket eyes glued to the screen. You want him. You can feel how much he wants you too from the possessive way he cages you into the way his fingers curl inside you. They’re crooked just the right way to let you fuck yourself at just the right angle but it’s not enough. They fill you but it’s not the burning stretch you crave. You watch as he fucks into her relentlessly, jealousy boiling over in your veins as her eyes roll into the back of her head, completely and utterly lost in the pleasure.  “Maybe we’ll try one of those on you next time,” he whispers, pulling down your shorts and letting them fall to your ankles. Once again, your body bends over, presenting your bare ass to him. This time willingly as if to ask him to just fuck you however he wants.  

 "Tell me what you want," Slade licks a stripe up your spine, tasting sweat and desperation on your flesh and stopping at the back of your neck. You can feel him nip at your flesh. "What do you want me to do?" 

 All of that, you thought greedily.  I want you to fuck me, use me, make me cum over and over.  I don’t care how you use me. 

 "Would you rather I tell you what I want to do to you, kitten?" The hand shoved between legs is rubbing shallow circles on your clit. The motion easily cuts off whatever coherent reply was resting on your lips. You bow your sweat-drenched back into his chest. The hairs on his chest prickle your back. “I’ll tell you exactly how I intend to use a pretty little slut like you.” He grabs your neck, giving it a light but firm squeeze, his thumb brushing against your pulse. “I’m going to have you gagging around my cock as fuck your throat raw,” he growls. It sounds like a threat but it sends shivers up your spine. “Don’t worry, kitten, I won’t come down your throat. You know me better than that. I’d rather give you a string of pearls to decorate your wonderful breasts,” he says squeezing one roughly in his large hand. Your tongue lolls out thinking of just how much you want this. Slade brings down his palm against your ass; the same broad palm kneads your flesh feeling the familiar heat emanate from the red blooming on your skin. “Then I’ll fuck that tight little ass of yours.” You gasp as he enters your pussy in one swift thrust. The rhythm of his thrusts mimics the one on the screen, slowing down when he feels your insides strangling his cock. He whispers every filthy promise you don’t even dare dream of. 

 “Do you want to cum?”

 “Yeees,” you sigh into your arms. “Please.”

 “Ask nicely.” You’re going to kill him. 

 “Please, Slade. I-”

 “Oh errr-” You freeze. You turn your head to look over your shoulder. You make a horrified bleat when you see one of the security guards standing meekly at the door. He doesn’t bother to hide how blatantly he’s watching as Slade continues to fuck into you drawing little sighs and gasps out of you. Your walls flutter around Slade, sweet and tight drawing a growl out of him. Slade looks over his shoulder as if he’d just noticed your audience. “Patrick, do you think you could give us a few minutes?” Slade grunts slowing his movements. Patrick seemingly surfaces from his slack-jawed haze. “Yes, of course, Mr. Wilson! Right away.” He scampers off shutting the door in a violent haste. 

 “You know him?” you gasp, twisting your body to scowl at him. His pace slows even more as he pretends to thin his answer over. “He’s caught me a few times,” he says offhandedly. You have no idea why this surprises you. “You’re not the first slut I’ve fucked over this desk.” You shiver as Slade pushes you back down onto the table, keeping you still with a hand around your throat.  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he teases, pressing a kiss between your shoulder blades. “You’d want me to fuck that tight little cunt while he watches.” The hot breath fanning against your skin draws a shiver from you. 

 “What do you think, kitten?” he asks, nipping at your ear.  “Don’t worry he won’t mind. No one would mind watching that cute little ass of yours.” You whine in a half-hearted protest. It’s loud and you think you’ll get caught again. Slade seems to think so too as he instructs you to open your mouth.  Your skin feels too hot and your mind is hazy so you obey fully expecting to press his fingers into your mouth. Instead, he stuffs a lacy piece of cloth into your mouth. You make the mistake of flicking your eyes back to the screen to investigate. In your mouth was your lacy underwear from the other night and on the screen was...

 There he sits with the ease of a hedonistic king while one woman sucks on his cock, tears pricking the edges of her eyes, and the other riding his fingers chasing her own high as he devours her mouth. The satisfaction of your jealousy heats Slade’s veins. “Sometimes double is better, don’t you agree, kitten.”  You make a dissenting whine cresting over your lips. “Don’t worry we’ll let you try it at some point.” 

 “Men would pay good money to watch you like that-” Slade tilts your chin, squeezing your chin and forcing you to look at the screen as Slade fucks the woman's throat raw. “or like this-” Slade’s cock plunges into you, deep and filling and hitting all the right spots. Your nails drag against the desk feeling your insides clench around him. He leans into your ear, voice a husky whisper. “They’d pay even better money to have their cocks where mine is-” thrust “-right-” thrust ”-now.”  You whimper around the cloth in your mouth. You tighten around him at the thought of other people vying for your attention and Slade claiming you as his while they looked on with jealousy. Slade barks out a laugh, gripping hard above the arches of your hips to bounce you back on his cock.  You’re so close. You’re going to cum. You cum with a shrill cry. Slade fucks you relentlessly through your orgasm, grunting loudly against your ear. 

 He takes his cock out of you. You feel something warm spill all over your ass. It’s sticky and hot and you don’t need to look to know what it was.   

 He takes your panties out of your mouth. Your breath, greedily sucking in air but it turns into a gasp when you feel the lacy cloth rubbing against your oversensitive skin.“Gotta keep this place clean, kitten- This is a high-class establishment after all.” You don’t protest as he tosses your cum covered panties into your pile of clothes. You simply press your body against the cool surface of the table and let out a tired little sigh.  

 “Feel free to delete the videos if you want. I already have my own copy,” he says casually waving a USB stick as he walks towards the door. “As I said before, just tell me if you want a copy. I’ll happily give you a copy… for a favor.”

 “Fuck you.”

 “Anytime, kitten.”

 You hear the door close. You’re going to have to work to get your clothes back on. Your limbs feel like noodles but first, you click on your video and delete them. You saw several people on the members' list you want nowhere near you or your videos.  Your skin heats again at the thought of those people bidding just to- You push it out of your mind and hit the delete button. 

 You breathe a sigh of relief. 

 Bonus: 

 Slade brings his phone up to his ear after typing in a familiar set of digits. “How did you like it?”

 “Wilson, you’ve got her trained well,” Roman’s gravelly voice, says roughly strained from arousal as he replays some highlights. 

“Indeed, I do.”

 “How much?”

 Slade hums, taking his time to answer. “How much are you willing to pay?” 

 “You would be surprised.”

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THANKS FOR READING

Tag list:  @batarella , @anothertimdrakestan , @lucy-roo , @multifandomgirl-us , @idkmanicantenglish ,@birdy-bat-writes , @americasmarauders , @l-inkage , @arestorationofbalance  , @cloudie-skay , @wunderstell    @hyp-oh-critical @glorified-red

#slade wilson smut #slade wilson imagine #slade wilson x reader #deathstroke x reader #deathstroke #slade wilson

[jemmahazelnut]

Classmates

Summary: In this Modern AU Laxus and Freed are classmates but at first, they don't really get along. 5+1 style fic. [Freed/Laxus]

Links: AO3 - Fanfiction

I tried to write about a love born in school. I hope I’ve kept them in character enough even though they are in a different context (and they are younger). I hope you like it :)

Classmates (or 'Five times Freed and Laxus argued at school and the one time they didn't')

1-When Laxus tries to be kind

It had been a while since Laxus had noticed that boy with long green hair and, he had to admit it at least to himself, it intrigued him a little. Perhaps because of that strange color in his hair, so in contrast to his rigid way of behaving, perhaps because he was so different from all his classmates. So, they were all troublemakers while that guy was pretty calm. Okay, Laxus had also noticed his ass, but he would never have said it out loud. In any case, it was precisely because of his attitude that he was intrigued. As if he believed himself superior to anyone, even the professors themselves.

Laxus observed professor Brandish Myu's test the following week and made up his mind, reached out and patted the boy on the shoulder, who turned a little surprised. The blond handed him the paper.

“What’s that?” the green-haired guy asked. Laxus snorted.

“Next week's test. That bitch Myu does it the same every year, because she doesn't want to work. There are all the correct answers there” he replied. The boy looked up at him, and Laxus noticed how peculiar his eyes were. They weren't blue, they were just a deep blue, and the right one had a darker spot. Laxus would have called them beautiful.

"It's called cheating" the boy said dryly, without taking the paper. Laxus arched an eyebrow, and wondered what the fuck was wrong with that guy. Anyone else would have accepted it, at least not to have to study. Maybe he really was one of those nerds who hated cheaters and didn't let anyone copy.

"With that bitch you’ll never get top marks, no matter how hard you study" Laxus warned him then. Maybe that guy didn't know that teacher well yet.

"I'll get top marks and won't cheat" the confident boy said. At that point Laxus gave up. If he wanted to waste time and study, let him do it. He had grown tired of being kind. So, he put the paper on the table.

"As you like, you'll regret it" he muttered.

"No. I won't” the boy retorted and turned back to pay attention to the lesson.

Laxus was right, however, when the teacher gave the grades, Freed -Laxus had found out his name- took B+, while Laxus A. The blonde pointed this out to him, and Freed badly told him that it was that bitchy teacher who didn't understand a shit. The point is that he not only said it to him, but also to the teacher herself and the blonde couldn't help but chuckle seeing how pissed off that guy was.

2-When Laxus underestimates him

In the end, Freed was convinced by his schoolmates that he would join the basketball game. The boys were still choosing how to divide into the team, on the one hand there was Gerard as captain, on the other that idiot Laxus. That guy was nothing but a pain in Freed's ass. He could also admit that he was not very smart to refuse that sheet -to himself, obviously he would never have told a soul- but in any case, it was the professor's fault if his grade was only a B+. His test was perfect, it was the teacher who didn't understand a shit. But of course, that didn't interest Laxus, and every time they saw each other he brought up that story, just to make him nervous.

In any case, at the moment Freed was waiting to figure out which team he should go to.

"Choose Freed, he's good" Bickslow was saying to Laxus, who stared at him skeptically.

"That little guy?" he asked and Freed felt the irritation rise and his cheeks flush with anger. Like hell he was little, Freed would have shown it to him. "He's just a nerd, he's probably never played a team game, I choose Gray" Laxus decided. Freed became even more annoyed, and when Gerard chose him, he was more than happy. He didn't want to be on the team with that windbag anyway, and it would show him how wrong he was to underestimate him.

The game began and Freed wasted no time. His height was actually a limit compared to other guys, especially that blond one, but that certainly didn't stop Freed. He was fast and exuberant, he kept going from one side of the pitch to the other, more than once he had managed -with great satisfaction- to steal the ball from Laxus and take it to the other side to make a basket. He basically played as a playmaker, and when his team won, Freed smiled in satisfaction. It was presumptuous to think it was because of him, but it certainly had made a difference and blowing the balls under Laxus's eyes had been very, very satisfying. That's why Freed turned to Laxus at the end of the game.

"You got beaten up by a shorter nerd than you" he teased. Laxus tensed his jaw, obviously irritated and stung.

"Tsk, thanks to your mates, not yours" he growled nervously.

"Really? Because I counted the baskets, and I scored four more than you. Not to mention the countless times you've gotten the ball stolen from under your nose. If you play like this, I suggest you review your technique” he told him with an air of superiority and a smile that, he was sure, would have made the blonde even more nervous. Laxus could not argue and Freed walked away from him, knowing that he would throw him back for the rest of the year.

3-When Laxus has to endure him

Laxus couldn't believe it. He should have guessed it, he really should have. Who else could the math teacher pair him with? With Freed Justine of course, nerd par excellence with excellent marks in every single subject. And since Laxus absolutely had to catch up on his bad grades, he was forced to put up with that presumptuous little fellow who wasted no time telling him how ignorant he was. And as much as Laxus had tried to be patient until now, he had had enough now.

"You have to go on for a long time, or will you explain to me how the fuck to solve this problem?" he growled irritably. They were just wasting their time because of his chatter. Freed rolled his eyes, as if he were the one who must be exasperated there. It was Laxus who had been putting up with his complaints so far, what the fuck.

“Haven't you figured it out yet? I gave you a lot of things to think about” he snapped.

"Actually, I've only heard complaints" Laxus muttered.

"You weren't listening" Freed reiterated, and re-explained a few passages. Laxus forced himself to listen to him and finally figured out how to fix that damned problem. Satisfied he completed it. A half smile was printed on his face, he had taken less time than expected, now he could go. He started to get up but Freed tapped the pen on his arm.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked him.

"At home" was the obvious answer.

"Do you realize that we’re only at the beginning? There are a lot of topics you need to catch up on. Sit down and focus” Freed told him. Laxus stared at him in shock. He was joking, right? He had spent twenty minutes listening to him, and another ten minutes solving that exercise. He wouldn't stay there a second longer.

“That will be enough to get a good grade. I understand everything” he said quietly.

"No" Freed persisted in saying "We’re only at the beginning, what if the teacher asks you about trigonometry? Sit down now. If you don't get a good grade, it will weigh on my credits, and I'm not going to make my situation worse because of you” he snapped irritably.

"Fuck it" Laxus snapped, surrendering. He didn't even know what Freed was talking about, he had never been careful in math class. Partly because the subject was boring, and partly because the teacher made it even more boring. "Just stop being an annoying know-it-all" he snapped at Freed, who gave him a dirty look.

"It's not my fault you're ignorant" he retorted right away. Laxus put his hands through his hair, knowing full well he would go mad.

4-When Laxus has to protect him

Freed hated bullies. He especially hated Torafuzar and Tempesta, two moron who thought they could do what they wanted just because they were big and thick. Which was also Laxus, except that Laxus, in contrast to them, was much more handsome, kind and -even if he still made him nervous- Freed almost liked him. In any case, it was really not the time to think about the study partner. No, since those two had now only targeted him because he was gay. Okay, maybe Freed had instigated them a bit, telling them that they were probably impotent and that with violence they were trying to compensate for the fact that they had a tiny dick. He had been an asshole, okay, but Freed felt justified as those two started insulting him for his long, colored hair.

So now Freed found himself between two guys who are taller and much more muscular than him. That didn't stop him from still having the poisonous tongue. He wasn't stupid, he knew the two of them would hit him, but he was confident that they didn't expect to have to deal with someone who had trained in hand-to-hand combat. And that actually helped him, he managed to dodge a punch of Tempestar and thrust one into his stomach. The taller boy doubled over, and Freed quickly turned to the other idiot. What he hadn't foreseen was that he grabbed his wrist and twisted it so much that he let out a moan, and then knocked him to the ground.

Shit, he had underestimated them, and now he found himself dealing with two guys much bigger than him. Before Torafuzar could hit him again, Freed grabbed his leg and dropped him from behind with his ass to the ground. Then he tried to get up but Tempestar punched him in the face. And fuck if it hurted. He felt dizzy and for a moment considered the idea of running away. He really thought that despite his pride, because he wasn't stupid, but he didn't have the time to do it. He saw Tempestar hit his head against the wall, and only after that did, he realize that it was Laxus who hit him.

The blonde looked really pissed off for some reason, and he started hitting the two boys.

"What the fuck do you want?" one of the two moron snapped.

"Beat the living hell out of you, asshole" Laxus growled. Torafuzar grinned.

"And I guess you think you can do it even if there are two of us, Dreyar" he mocked.

"A kid half your height has beat you two a pulp. I don't think I'm going to have any problems" he challenged them. The two glanced at each other as Freed stood up beside him, assessing the situation. He didn't have to think about anything though, because the two boys, after spitting on the ground, walked away. Freed turned to Laxus.

"Kid half your height?" he repeated offended. Laxus stared at him puzzled.

"A ‘thank you’ is enough for me, you know" he told him.

"I don't have to fucking thank you, I'm not as short as you insist on saying, and in any case, I was doing it alone" he retorted. Laxus raised an eyebrow.

"It's unbelievable, not even after get hit you can lower your head" he said in amazement. Freed stared at him in annoyance. He knew that Laxus had helped him, but he was pretty sure he would be able to escape from those two idiots without any problems.

“Thanks” he forced himself to say between his teeth, Laxus widened his eyes but Freed didn't let him speak. “Even though I didn't ask for your help. And let's be clear, they were two against one, it wasn't fair anyway” he specified. Laxus smiled in amusement.

"So, admit you needed help."

"I didn’t say this".

"No, but it's true".

"It’s not…".

“Oh fuck, stop talking, he's bleeding your nose. And go to the infirmary before you mess around” Laxus told him.

"I don't need to…" Freed began to moan but Laxus grabbed him by the arm before he finished the sentence and began dragging him down the hall.

"You are extremely annoying, has anyone ever told you that?" he made rhetoric.

“Many in fact, but…”.

"I'm not surprised".

“Do you want to stop dragging me and interrupting me while I speak? I can walk alone. And anyway, I'm not annoying, it's other people who can't accept reality” Freed pointed out, trying to ignore how hot and strong Laxus's grip on his arm was. He tried to free himself but the wrist Torafuzar had turned before him hurt and he barely stifled a groan. Laxus immediately let go and turned to him, his eyes worried.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked, gently taking his wrist in his hands and approaching. Freed instantly tensed, feeling the strong scent of Laxus flood his nostrils and his fingers gently feel his pulse. A shiver ran down his arm and he felt a blush reach his face. No no no, he couldn't blush in front of Laxus. It didn't matter how handsome and thoughtful the boy was, and how close he was to him, and how deep-down Freed liked that attention. Freed swallowed hard and jerked away before the situation became more embarrassing. He turned around so as not to show his stunned expression.

“Hell no, you can’t hurt me. I just twisted it” he said, hoping his voice didn't sound strange. Fuck. Fuck. Why was he getting so excited? Laxus put a hand on his shoulder and new shivers of excitement ran down Freed's shoulders. No, no. This wasn’t good. Freed pulled away quickly. "And stop it, why don't you mind your own business instead of busting my balls?" he blurted out.

Laxus snorted. “You know what, make do. I’m not surprised that you’ve been beaten with the tongue you have” he told him badly and turned away. Freed sighed in relief, finally starting to breathe normally again. As much as he hated admitting it, he liked Laxus's closeness more than he wanted to admit. He put his hands to his face and realized that his nose still hurt. He really had to go to the infirmary.

5-When Laxus wants to kiss him

"And as if that weren't enough, now I find myself wasting an entire afternoon that I could have used to study the new chapter of history, only to find myself here cleaning a fucking shit room with the most annoying person in school" Freed was saying. Laxus was now used to his background voice, it accompanied him most of the time, since they had been studying together for quite a few months. Freed actually did not speak constantly, on the contrary, there were moments in which Laxus also had fun with him. But when he was angry, he started with those monologues so long that they seemed to have no end.

And that was one of those moments, as they were in punishment together. It was Laxus' fault of course, and the blonde had no problem admitting it. He had dragged Freed into trouble for him because it seemed funny to make him do something forbidden. In particular, the two boys had gone to the roof and Laxus had tried to get Freed to smoke. After listening to a long monologue from his friend -he could now consider it as such- about how bad smoking was and how stupid smoking was, in the end -Laxus still didn't know how- he managed to convince Freed to take a drag. Obviously, the boy immediately coughed, reiterating how stupid it was and that he would never do it again, but Professor Clive had caught them and put them to clean up a classroom in the school.

At one point Freed kicked the garbage can causing it to fall to the ground and scatter papers. Laxus looked at him in shock.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

“I'm sick of being here. You should be here, alone. You dragged me into your follies!" he exclaimed "Now I have a demerit, do you know how much it will weigh?" he asked and Laxus rolled his eyes.

"You decided to follow me" the blond pointed out. "Anyway, if you do that, you only mess up the classroom even more" he commented.

“At least help me. You've been there for twenty minutes doing nothing” Freed snapped.

“Why, you instead? You've been complaining for the same time” Laxus retorted. Freed gave him a dirty look, but then he snorted and began to work. Laxus was lost watching him wondering when they got along more. Sure, they often argued, but they spent just as much time having fun together. It wasn't the first time Freed had followed him to do something stupid, it was fun to have a partner to bullshit with. Especially if that mate was Freed. They enjoyed bullshitting assholes, and now they had even begun to see each other after school.

The last time Laxus had taken his grandfather's moped, and had done a few laps with Freed. His friend had taught him to wheelies, or at least, he had explained the whole theory to him -suffering about the physics of the engine, part that Laxus no longer remembered anyway- and then it was the blond who tried. To make himself cool, he had tilted the scooter more than it should, and eventually they overturned. Luckily, they weren't hurt, but Freed had put all the blame on them. After arguing about that, they found themselves laughing and trying again, with more caution.

Yes, Laxus was having more fun than he had thought with that boy. And, strange and uncomfortable, he found himself all too often watching him. He liked how Freed brushed his hair off his face when he studied, or how he looked curiously at anything he didn't know, the way he nibbled his pen when he was agitated, or the way he smiled with satisfaction when he won a match against him. Indeed, Laxus was in too good a mood around him.

Even now, he was glad that Freed was with him, even though the boy kept muttering softly about how unfair that punishment was, and Laxus was sure, it wouldn't shut him up in any way. When Freed started, there was no way to stop him, by now he knew him. Who knows, maybe if he had kissed him, he would finally close that mouth. The idea didn't seem bad at all. At one point Freed turned to him.

"Are you going to help or not?" he blurted out. Laxus found himself blushing slightly, realizing he'd gazed at him for too long. He shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

“I was hoping you did everything” he said, avoiding looking at his lips. Freed threw a cast on him.

"Work" he ordered.

"And you stop messing up the classroom even more" Laxus retorted, taking the chalk off the ground and approaching the blackboard and, inevitably, to Freed, who always put him in awe with that intense gaze. Damn it in his eyes, they were so peculiar that he took more time to look at them each time. Better than looking at his lips, Laxus thought. Okay, he definitely had to stop thinking about weird things.

“In any case, you should serve most of the punishment, so you will clean most of the room. If you were wondering, from that corner over there to... " Laxus couldn't take it anymore, he pushed himself forward and placed his lips on Freed's, who initially jumped and widened his eyes. Laxus almost feared that he wouldn’t respond to the kiss, but after a few seconds the boy parted his lips and Laxus pushed himself even more towards him. He shook his hands on Freed's hips, pulling him against him and felt his friend's fingers tickle his neck. He was more beautiful than he had expected, a little uncertain on the part of both of them, sweet, and incredibly electrifying.

When they broke apart, Freed was silent for the first time, red-faced and wide-eyed. Laxus would have made fun of him if it had been another moment, but in that instant, he felt the same way. Embarrassed, surprised, excited. Freed had reciprocated. Without thinking twice, he pushed Freed towards the wall and kissed him again, this time more intensely, making their tongues collide and running his hands over his friend's body. Before long he felt too excited, with Freed's hands on his shoulders it was impossible not to be. God, he was freaking out completely. They broke away panting and flushed again and stared at each other for long seconds.

"W-what ...?" Freed stammered. Good heavens, he had managed to silence Freed Justine. Laxus grinned, although he felt high, he liked to see his friend in those states. Especially if it was his fault.

"Finally shut up" he commented. Freed's face became even more red if possible. In a short time, however, he narrowed his gaze again, although he was no longer credible as usual given the blush that colored his cheeks.

“You know, you just kissed me. I think I may be surprised, especially considering…” Laxus kissed him again, not sure whether to shut him up or because he wanted to. Damn, it didn't matter, those kisses were dizzying him and the more he had, the more he wanted. When they broke apart a third time, the blonde didn't stray too far from Freed. That closeness was all too tempting, and having Freed with his back to the wall thrilled him too much.

"We should clean the room" Freed murmured. Laxus raised an eyebrow.

"Are you seriously interested in that now?" he asked him. Freed seemed to think about it for a moment, then placed his hands on Laxus's chest and pushed him back badly, so much so that the blonde felt disappointed. He didn't have time to think about anything however that he found himself with his back against the desk.

"No, I don't care" was Freed's response, who immediately put a hand through the blond's hair and forced him to kiss him. Before long they both forgot the punishment.

1-When Laxus allies himself with him

Freed didn't think Laxus would trust him that much. But he did. Indeed, if Laxus had been caught stealing a moped not his own and voluntarily swiping it against Professor Brandish Myu's car, he didn't know what would happen to him. But he trusted him and Freed had no intention of betraying him. In any case there was little to worry about, Freed had thought of everything so that the blame would fall on those assholes of Torafuzar and Tempestar. Yes, the plan was all his. Well, almost everything. He had to admit that Laxus had contributed, but in any case, Freed was keen to point out that most of the credit went to him.

It all started when Laxus found himself with the scooter completely destroyed. Obviously, it had been those assholes of Torafuzar and Tempestar, who had done little to deny it. Indeed, they had boasted about it like never before. Laxus' first instinct had been to go beat them both, but Freed had stopped him in time, before he got suspended. And so, he had come up with a plan to take revenge. The plan included Professor Brandish Myu only because Freed hated her, and so he would kill two birds with one stone. They would just have to steal the keys of one of the two mopeds and swipe it against the professor's car, then leaving the evidence there. Perfect. Everything was perfect. Freed just had to keep the janitors busy and make sure no one came out, a pretty easy task for someone with his gab. In fact, when he felt the phone vibrate in his pocket and saw the message from Laxus he smiled.

“Laxus <3: Done! ;) "

Yes, Freed had put the little heart next to his name, but the blonde didn't have to know. He greeted the janitors, who in any case adored him for his kind and polite face -all facade, as Laxus said- and went up the stairs, returning to the first floor and opening the security door.

"Those assholes will have a nice surprise" the blond grinned.

"I hope you did a long scratch" Freed commented.

"Oh yes" Laxus smiled. Freed chuckled. He couldn't wait to see the scene.

And the scene came. Laxus and Freed were in the parking lot when the professor approached the car. Freed was quite curious what his car looked like, but he didn't lean over to avoid arousing suspicion, and Laxus just watched the two assholes walking towards Tempestar’s scooter. But when they were there, the professor's scream attracted everyone's attention.

"You stupid degenerate kids!" she exclaimed to the two assholes, who stared at her worried, but also pissed off. Because they knew they were framed. Freed and Laxus enjoyed the scene a few meters away, while all the other students stared too. "If you think you can pass the year, you’re very wrong, I will crush you, right?" the professor threatened them, while she looked at her own car that, in fact, Laxus was really committed to ruining.

The blond glanced at Freed, who was watching the scene strangely in silence. He put a hand on his shoulder and leaned slightly towards his ear, lowering his voice.

"Hey, are you feeling guilty?" he asked him worried. Freed turned to him and giggled.

"Not even a little" he replied without any doubt.

"Then why are you so silent?" Laxus asked puzzled. Freed watched the two boys.

“Oh nothing, I was thinking about how many assholes I have yet to take revenge. So far, I’ve reached seventeen people, but I only have revenge in mind on ten of them. Do you have someone to take revenge on?" he asked him. Laxus smiled in amusement.

"Hell, you're a bastard".

"Is it really a surprise?" Freed asked.

"No, actually no" Laxus said, taking Freed's hand in his and walking towards the bus stop. "So, who’s the first?".

#freed justine #laxus dreyar #fraxus #fairy tail

[221castiel]

Yesterday - Chapter One

Master Post // AO3

-

He isn't exactly sure why he wants it so badly, his own parents were only married for five years before Mary had died and even then it was only a year later when John had stopped wearing his ring. Opting to instead leave it some drawer filled with other forgotten items; pennies and keys with no purpose other than to collect dust. Cas's parents had divorced when he was nineteen. Something that had become a long legal battle over every little thing, the house, the kids, every single piece of silverware that filled the kitchen.

Marriage had never been a permanent thing in either of their lives, and yet, Dean wanted it. He wanted it the same way he wanted the sun to set every night and rise every morning. He wanted to whisper each vow as he stared into Cas's vibrant eyes, to feel the other's lips as they kissed for the first time as a married couple. Dean wouldn't consider himself a romantic, he was just as happy to stay at home and watch Game of Thrones as he would be going on an over planned date, and yet, he wanted every sappy moment he would roll his eyes at growing up. The first dance, shoving cake in each other's faces, the perfect ring, which Dean had quickly learned is something far easier said than done.

It had taken months of stopping at the mall's jewelry store, sorting through each shipment of new rings before he'd finally found the perfect one.

"Holy shit," Charlie cries, her nose only inches from the glass case that she'd lent over, "that's a lot of bling." Dean nods, a grin tugging at his lips. Charlie's excitement was contagious, warming his chest as she continued to study the ring. He had a ring. He was going to propose. It was happening. "Seriously dude," Charlie continues in the same raised voice, "Marline Monroe would be jealous of this."

"Well could you keep it down," Dean teases, as one of the workers behind the counter gives them a side glance that he's frankly too excited to care about. "Or at least let me buy the ring before you get us kicked out."

Charlie looks up, a wide smile across her face. Her bright hair had been pulled back in a ponytail though through the workday it had begun to fall out and now framed her face in small strands. "Sorry," Charlie whispers, a grin still spread across her lips. She stands up properly and adjusts her walmart vest that she'd draped over her arm. "I'm just so excited for you- and jealous of Cas."

"I'll buy you one next."

"I'm holding you to that," Charlie teases, causing Dean to roll his eyes.

She looks back to the glass case and Dean steps forward looking over her shoulder at the rings that fill it, his gaze immediately finding the ring he'd spent the past weeks looking at. The band itself is silver, the center lined with small diamonds, while the edges were carved with a leaf like pattern. In the center a large diamond sat, catching the store's bright light and reflecting it in small shimmers. "Do you think he's going to like it?" Dean whispers. He'd been sure Cas would, but now he couldn't kick the tug in his stomach, the thought that maybe he's better off saving for a little longer, buying one a little bit more expensive or with a bigger diamond.

"He's going to love it," Charlie replies.

Dean looks up as Charlie goes silent, meeting her concerned gaze. Her lips pressed in a tight line, eyes darting over Dean's face, eyebrows knit together, her whole expression weighs on him. He already knows he doesn't want to hear whatever she has to say. Is it too late to walk away?

Despite the sudden dread that weighs on his shoulders, Charlie continues speaking. "Look," she begins, "I want to be all supportive and stuff, I really do, but how the hell can you afford this, it's gotta be more than you and Cas make in a month."

"I've been savin'"

"For what the past century?"

"Three years and just under ten months," Dean corrects. He shrugs his shoulders looking back down to the ring. "But who really keeps track of that crap."

Dean shoves his hand into his jean pockets, pressing his lips together as he looks across the rings. He can feel Charlie's eyes burning against the side of his head, but he refuses to meet them, he already knows the expression that would sit across her face, concentrated and curious, trying to figure out Dean's exact thoughts.

Charlie takes a small step closer, and Dean doesn't move, continuing to study a rose gold ring that holds a dark blue jewel in the center. "Dean," Charlie says, her voice low and gentle. "You know Cas would be just as happy with a cheaper ring, something you can actually afford."

"Cas would be happy with a fuckin' ring pop," Dean grumbles. "Doesn't mean I can't buy him something better."

"Could you push a side your prince charming complex for five minutes, and not make the most financially stupid decision of your life?"

Dean looks back to the silver ring. He knows Charlie's right, hell the thought has been in the back of his mind since he'd begun saving, putting every extra penny or dollar won during a game of pool, aside. They could pay off almost two months of their health insurance, fix their bathroom sink, save the money for if an emergency came. Dean could think of a million different things the money could go towards. Things Cas, who was far too selfless for his own good, would want the money to go towards, yet Dean couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Charlie-"

"You can't-"

"No," Dean insists, looking back to the other. "I'm going to do it."

Charlie's expression softens her lips tugging into a gentle smile. A gesture that's so simple yet seems to lift whatever weight that'd been resting across Dean's shoulders, easing his breathing, and allowing him to return the smile. "He's going to love it," Charlie says.

"I hope so."

-

His feet ache as he doesn't so much as walk down the apartment building's hallway but drag himself, the dim lights above casting shadows over the dingy hallway walls. Stopping at his apartment Dean pulls the keys from his pocket, the sound of fighting from the neighbours clear through the thin walls.

Fuck people. After a six hour morning shift at Walmart followed by a five hour shift at McDonald's filled with bitchy people and forced smiles, Dean was done with people. Especially loud neighbours that spent nights fighting until they broke up, only to get back together a few days later. If he had to listen to make up sex even once that night he was complaining to the landlord.

A loud crash comes from their neighbours and Dean sighs. Maybe he'd prefer the makeup sex over hate sex.

He finally manages to unlock the door and step into his apartment where he's immediately met by silence, the main room of the apartment -a small joint living room and kitchen- dimly lit by the living room table lamp. Though other than the lamp and a few dirty dishes there was no sign of anyone else. Not that Dean minds, it gives him a moment to breath. A moment to catch his thoughts and relax.

After dropping his things onto the kitchen chair Dean goes to get a glass of water, though his attention quickly changes as he stops at the kitchen counter where papers were spread out. A mix of bills and lined papers that were covered in Cas's neat writing.

Across the top of one page the words, Next Month's Budget, had been printed. Various numbers were printed underneath as Cas balanced out their income, trying to figure out how they could buy new light bulbs while saving money for Jack's birthday. He feels sick just looking at the numbers.

He already knew everything on the page. There were no surprises, medical insurance took out most of his income, car insurance took what was left. Everything Cas made was spent on food and rent, making sure the heat stayed on the months they really needed it and that water came when they stepped in the shower. There was close to nothing left.

He already knew that.

And yet he feels sick.

He flips the page over to read the back, though he doesn't get more than a glance before the sound of footsteps comes, followed by Jack's voice, "dad!"

Dean turns at the sound, forcing a smile across his face as Jack comes running towards him, a wide smile across the child's and his arms out for Dean to pick him up. "Hey kid," Dean hums, picking Jack and resting him against his hip. "Did you have a good day?"

"So good!" Jack cries, wrapping his arms around Dean's neck in an awkward half hug, causing a genuine smile to tug at Dean's lips. A warmth spreading across his chest that has him gripping Jack together as the child buries his face into Dean's neck.

"So good, huh?"

"So so good!"

Dean laughs, smiling down at Jack. "What made it so good?"

"We goed to the park," Jack says, burying his face further into the crook of Dean's neck where he rubbed his nose much to Dean's disgust, then made a soft sniffle. "And- and drawed."

"All while you're sick?"

"I'm not sick!"

"He's been refusing to take the cold medication," Cas says, Dean's gaze immediately darting up at the sound of Cas's low voice. He stood at the entrance of their hallway wearing one of Dean's AC/DC shirts, his dark hair tousled with strands overlapping one another or simply sticking out in random directions as a small smile rests across his face that Dean returns. How couldn't he. When his boyfriend was standing there looking gorgeous even with his messy hair and slightly darkened eyes from lack of sleep. Boyfriend- hopefully soon to be fiance.

"I don't want it," Jack grumbles. Dean looks back down to the pouty expression that now rests across Jack's face, his bottom lip puckered out, and eyes pleading. Something that only makes Dean's smile grow. "It's bad, I want ice cream!"

"How about you take the medicine," Dean offers, "and I'll get you some ice cream, deal?"

Jack stares back for a moment, bottom lip still puckered out as he gives a firm nod. "Deal."

After Jack runs off to the bathroom, Dean grabs a bowl from the cabinet filling it up with a few spoonfuls of vanilla ice cream before he walks out of the kitchen. He makes his way down the small hallway and into Jack's room where he finds Jack standing on his bed while Cas helps him get into his superman pajamas.

"Superman?" Dean hums as he steps into the room, careful not to break any of the toys that scatter the floor. "Batman's way cooler."

"See Daddy," Jack cries to Cas, "I telled you! I telled you!"

"I know Bee," Cas replies as he helps Jack slide his arms through the shirt's holes. "But they need to be washed."

"I want them now!"

"You can have them tomorrow night."

"Tonight you'll just have to be lame Superman," Dean teases as he takes a seat on Jack's bed. He knows it's not a good time, Cas is obviously tired, and Jack is starting to get sick, something that always leaves him a little more sensitive, but he can't help himself. He knows it's worth it when Cas sends him a glare, an expression that Dean finds far cuter than he ever should.

"Daddy!" Jack cries, Burying his face into Cas's chest as Cas wraps his arms around the child and rubs small circles into his back.

Cas leans down pressing a kiss to Jack's head. "It's okay Bee," He whispers gently, though when he looks back up the glare he gives Dean is anything but that. "You're provoking him," Cas whispers.

He definitely was.

"Am not," Dean replies in a similar low tone. Cas's eyes narrow, and Dean sighs. "Let me fix it."

It takes a few minutes for Dean to calm Jack down, between a mix of apologies and promises that Superman was in fact a very cool super hero, and in fact almost as cool as Batman. By the time he does, Jack is more than happy to eat his almost melted ice cream, then receive a piggy back ride to the bathroom where he brushes his teeth, and continues to tell Dean about his day. Specifically about the squirrel he'd seen at the park and the tv shows he'd watched in the morning. Finally after a long conversation about a show Dean's never even heard of, Dean manages to get Jack into bed, whispering a goodnight before he goes to flick off the lights.

He reaches out to the light switch, his finger grazing it before he hesitates, looking back at Jack.

Even in the single bed Jack looks small, far too small for a four year old. The doctors had insisted it was fine, a common side effect to a chronic illness, nothing anyone could fix, and yet Dean couldn't help but feel guilty. A weight in his stomach as if he'd swallowed lead, he wanted to fix it so bad, wanted to make sure Jack was never going to be anything but okay. He wanted to fix it no matter how many times he was told he couldn't, and he knew Cas felt the same way.

Jack made a small sniffle then his eyes fluttered open, meeting Dean's stare. "Dad?" Jack whispers, his voice sounding more nasally than before.

"Yah?"

"I love you."

"I love you too," Dean whispers back, a small smile tugging at his lips as he flips the light switch.

After stepping out of Jack's room, Dean takes a deep breath allowing himself a second to calm his heart before he walks into his own bedroom, finding it empty. The living room and kitchen is exactly the same as when he first got home, the lamp still dimly glowing, dirty dishes and papers still scattering the surfaces. The only difference is that the porch door had been propped open, letting the night air linger through the living room

Dean walks across the livingroom and to the porch doorway, where he leans his shoulder. An easy smile spreads across his face as he watches Cas stand over one of the many plant pots that cover their tiny porch.

With a pair of scissors in hand Cas carefully looks over the pot of Marigolds, cutting off any leaves that had begun to wither and letting them fall off the porch and onto the street below. A concentrated expression rests across Cas's features as inspects the plants, his lips pressed in a tight line and eyes narrowed, his fingers working carefully. How Cas had the patience to watch something grow, to care for something so frequently, Dean would never know.

"It's cold," Dean finally says, stepping onto the deck. Cas doesn't look up and instead picks up his watering can, tilting it over to let the water soak the marigolds. "Do you need a coat?"

"I'm fine."

"You won't be saying that when you're sick."

"I won't get sick."

"Just cause you don't get cold doesn't mean you can't get sick," Dean mumbles.

Cas looks up, the smallest smile tugging at his lips as he tilts his head to right, a small action that always brings a warmth to Dean's chest. A comforting feeling that leaves him wanting more, one more look of Cas's eyes, one more touch of his fingers that were surely frozen from the chilled wind, one more second of just being with the other.

"Dean," Cas insists in his usual gravelly, monotone voice. "I am fine."

Despite Cas's arguments Dean tugs the first sleeve of his jacket off and then the second, the evening air immediately freezing against his bare arms. "Comeon angel," Dean says, offering his jacket. "Humor me."

Cas narrows his eyes, but still takes the jacket from Dean's hand and pulls it around himself before turning back to the plants. Dean leans against the deck railing no longer trying to speak and instead watches as Cas works his way from plant to plant, trimming leaves, and drizzling them with water. He can hear the distant sound of voices in the streets below, some kind of fight that could be just heard over the ambulance sirens from a few blocks away, both noises that occur far more frequently than Dean would ever like.

Maybe it wasn't a good time to buy an engagement ring, maybe they'd be better off saving to move to a different apartment. Somewhere nicer, where kids didn't walk in the middle of the streets because it was safer than walking near the alleyways, or near parks that weren't filled with used needles and other things that had Dean caring Jack rather then letting the child walk (though honestly Dean wasn't sure if Chicago had any parks not like that). Maybe they'd be better off buying light bulbs or saving for the over the top birthday Dean knew Cas wanted Jack to have.

Saving it would be the best choice, yet Dean couldn't bring himself to not picture the ring. To not imagine how Cas's eyes would light up as Dean opened the box, he'd say yes, Dean had never been so certain of anything in his life. Cas would say yes, and then they'd kiss, holding onto one another as if it was their last moments alive.

"Do you regret anything?" Dean suddenly says, his mind spinning with too many what ifs to stop himself.

Cas pauses for a second, before he continues inspecting the small tomato plant that had just begun to sprout. "No," Cas replies, his voice steady, though Dean can hear something else in it, hesitation, maybe worry, "do you?"

"No- yah- I mean, I don't know," Dean shoves his hands into his jeans pocket, trying to warm them from the numb feeling that had quickly begun to grow. The fighting down below had stopped though the ambulance's sirens continues to blare and for a moment Dean let's that fill the silence as he tries to sort his thoughts. "I think I'd've liked to try harder at school, maybe got a degree in mechanics, something that'd make us money." He pauses, looking down to his shoes, it's easier than looking at Cas as he admits his defeats. "We could have a nicer apartment."

"I like our apartment," Cas replies.

"The neighbors suck," Dean says, "We've got the Joker and Harley Quinn on one side and a fuckin' hooker on the other."

"Meg is a respectable woman."

A smile tugs at Dean's lips. "Yah well most apartments have nice chicks."

"Dean," at the sudden softness in Cas's voice, Dean looks up, his eyes meeting the other's. Cas places his watering can down and steps forward. "Are you alright?"

"Yah." Cas gives the smallest tilt of his head, a crease forming between his eyebrows as his gaze darts down Dean. Dean pushes himself from the railing and raises his arm, lacing his fingers with Cas's. "Really, angel," Dean continues, pulling Cas into his arms, "I'm fine."

Cas wraps his arms around Dean's neck, resting his chin against Dean's shoulder. Even with the help of his jacket Cas feels frozen as Dean wraps his arms around the other's waist, Dean's fingers grazing the frozen skin from under Cas's t-shirt. "Dean," Cas says, his voice louder in the suddenly silent night. "You are allowed to talk to me."

"I'm just thinkin'" Dean replies. He holds Cas closer to his chest hoping that it will keep the other warm, and rests his chin against Cas's shoulder. "Worryin' about Jack, money, the future, that kind've crap," Dean says. "Things are just goin' to get more expensive."

"I understand your concerns," Cas replies. Dean tilts his head as the other talks, pressing a kiss to Cas's neck, followed by a second, the kiss so soft and gentle Dean's lips just ghost the frozen skin. "But Jack will be starting school soon and when that happens I'll discuss working more hours with Crowley. We will figure it out."

"I'm worried about you," Dean whispers, something which was only half true.

He was worried with every beat of his heart that he could never give Cas what he deserved. That one day Cas would realize he deserved better and walk out. Dean wasn't worried about Cas, Cas could handle himself, he was worried the day Cas would realize he was worth more.

Dean was worried that one day he would be left with nothing but a broken heart for memories, and the feeling of sorrow to wash it out.

"Dean," Cas whispers, "there's no reason to worry about me." Dean presses another kiss to Cas's neck and slowly let's his fingers travel down the other's back, tracing the curve of Cas's spine. "Please don't worry about me." The thought of arguing crosses Dean's mind but instead of trying he buries his nose into the crook of Cas's neck as Cas's grip around him tightens.

It was moments like this that left Dean holding Cas closer, clinging onto every second as if it would be his last with the other. When they were alone in the dark, only lit by the decks faded orange light, and the world around them had gone silent as if to give them one moment alone. It was simple moments like this that left Dean out of breath, and at a complete loss of words, unable to describe just how in love he was with Castiel Novak.

Slowly, humming softly, Dean removes one hand from Cas's back and laces the fingers of his right hand with Cas's left. "Here comes the sun," Dean begins barely above a whisper, swaying softly, an action Cas mimics.

"And I say," Dean sings softly, "it's alright."

"Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter," Dean continues, his voice hanging through the silent night, only broken by their footsteps as they move across the deck. "Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here." Cas's lips press lightly to Dean's neck and he replies by giving Cas's hand a gentle squeeze, it's all he can manage. Any words would ruin the moment, nothing he could say would be as gentle as them swaying, sharing one another's warmth as the wind continues to blow.

"Here comes the sun, do, do, do. Here comes the sun, and I say," Dean sings, "it's alright."

They continue to dance as the song goes on, footsteps heavy, and their swaying half a beat off. Cas's fingers are still frozen against his, and Dean's own arms had long ago become numb, and yet it's perfect.

Dean wouldn't trade it for a second of perfection. The breathless feeling leaving him light, his heart pounding constantly in his chest yet always one beat not enough. It's impossible to breathe properly when all his senses are heightened on one thing.

Cas.

By the time the song comes to an end and their slow dance has stopped, Cas's eyes were on Dean's, the normally vivid blue casted in shadows by the deck's light. Cas's hand moves from where it rests on Dean's shoulder and to his cheek, the contact so light Cas's fingers barely grazes Dean's skin. "I love you," Dean whispers, because he isn't good with words, he never has been, and that's the only thing he can think of that can even remotely describe how he feels.

"I love you too," Cas replies. He leans forwards pressing his lips to Dean's for a slow kiss that has Dean's heart somewhere between racing and stopping, tearing all the air from his lungs. When they pull away, their lips still grazing, there's only one thing Dean's sure of; he's going to marry the love of his life.

#Destiel #Destiel fanfic #destiel fic #Yesterday #Here comes the sun series #dean winchester #castiel #jack kline #domestic fluff

[soudam-appreciation]

Study... date?

Gundam sighed, shrugging his overweight backpack over his shoulder. He had not planned for today to become a social one, though he supposed it was not quite unwelcome. The mortal known as Kazuichi, Tamer of Automatons, had requested his presence here, though for precisely what ritual, Gundam did not know.

Kazuichi leaned back in his chair and rested his legs atop of the table as he inhaled the overwhelming (and honestly, kinda gross) scent of old and new books as he waited for Gundam to hurry the fuck up and get to the library, because he really didn’t have all day. 

He perked up, though, when he saw a small flash of purple and black move by one of the bookshelves he sat next to. Souda stood, waving his hands frantically in an attempt to catch the goth boy’s attention, not wanting to call out and cause more of a scene than the literal highlighter waving his hands sporadically like he was at a concert.

The neon blur tugged at Gundam’s peripheral, and he crossed his arms before him. Facing the boy, he began a usual greeting. “At last, you have been found. Do you not fear this meeting, Fool?” His voice boomed and echoed through the stacks, inciting an annoyed rustle and collective whisper.

Kazuichi’s eyes went wide as he started rapidly shushing him, because if him basically jumping up and down trying to get Gundam to notice him didn’t draw attention to the two, Gundam basically shouting definitely did. Speaking as softly as he could considering how badly his heart rate spiked, he tried to get him to quiet down.

“D-dude! Shut- shut the- Don’t! Stop fuckin’....fuckin’ screaming like that! Jesus! Shudda’...shut the- shut the fuck up! Shhh!” 

Recollection of the location at hand hit Gundam with a hell-strength impact. Clearing his throat, he hurriedly glanced around, mumbling fractured apologies for his forgetfulness. If there was one thing that would make even the Dark Overlord himself bow, it would be intense embarrassment as a direct result of his own foolishness- not that he would even say such a thing. To allow enemies access to his weakness?! Preposterous. He whispered a short apology to Souda as well, for the mortal seemed far more distraught than he. 

Souda groaned softly, rubbing his face with his hands for a few moments before bouncing back almost as fast, a lazy grin plastered across his face. That didn’t stop the drop of malice and embarrassment showing through in his cheerful voice as he pushed out a chair next to the one he was leaning on before to invite Gundam to sit with him. 

There were a lot of books, papers, pens and one lone computer scattered across the table. Souda easily pushed these aside as he sat down to take a sip of his…something. 

Gundam followed suit, dropping his bag on the floor beside him as he took his seat. He was not entirely sure what they were to do on this day, although crawling deep underground was an option he prayed upon. Unzipping his backpack as soundlessly as he could, he retrieved a notepad and slid a simple message to his companion.

What, pray tell, have you summoned me for?

Kazuichi read it over before snatching the notepad from Gundam’s hand, as well as the fancy pen he had (despite there being many writing utensils of his own he could’ve used, he honestly just wanted to be a bit of a dick to his past rival). He scrawled something quickly on it and slid it back nervously, despite there being no teachers nor rules against slipping each other notes. 

ok, well, i asked u 2 come here bc i am fucking failing math and biology and there r these 2 tests cming up i need u 2 help me study for. i thought u’d know a lot abt biology and u seem smart ig so-

He ripped another blank note out to write on more.

-so i thought u could help with, math too. hinata won’t help me he’s mad i spilt monster on his laptop still even though that was a whole day ago :(

The writing was barely legible and Kazuichi seemed to shorten words as best as he could, since he also wrote very large on the small sheet of paper. He slid the second note to Tanaka for him to read.

Squinting, Gundam managed to make out Souda’s print. He sighed, briefly wondering how incompetent Souda actually was, and where to even begin studying. Retrieving his pen, albeit a bit forcefully, he turned to a new page and began his transmission.

Where should we begin? Is there a specific field in which you have little expertise?

As Souda read over the note in the pretty cursive handwriting, he let out a small giggle. He couldn’t help it, reading Gundam’s dumbass Overlord-victorian speak was somehow funnier than hearing it out loud. Snatching the pen and paper back, he started writing.

uh um well i never ever got algebra the little letters always confused me and in biology kind of everything. man i’m not good with that kinda shit like u i’ve seen ur grades you don’t know how 2 whisper when ur flaunting them to sonia lol

Gundham’s ears got hot, and he fidgeted with the end of his scarf. Grabbing his pen, he scribbled out, I do no such thing. I simply share because I am asked, that should be a simple concept to grasp. His scrawl was messier, his haste blurring his senses. Deep breaths stilled his hostility, and he turned to a new page.

So shall we begin with variables, then? You may need to work exceptionally hard to recall these, as no doubt it will be of importance. 

Once again, Kazuichi laughed as he watched Gundam get a little pissed at the Sonia comment. Even when they were slowly getting closer, messing with the guy still yielded hilarious results.

come on man!!!! why r u getting so pissy i’m just teasing u. u know i know that u know we aren’t rivals anymore so calm down!!!!! >:3

anyways uhh ya sure we can start w, variables ig. i don’t remember a lot of this stupid ass math lingo so ur gonna need to remind me some of it.

Variables are those “little letters” you spoke of. If something I mention confuses you, alert me at once. 

Gundam chose to ignore all of Souda’s previous statement, focusing instead on the task at hand. There did not seem a logical reason to become so frustrated when Souda spoke of her. So why did it ignite a hellfire in his chest? 

He shook off the thought, selecting a standard textbook from his oversized backpack and placing it on the table with a thunk. Opening to a page about Variables, the most annoying of unknowns, he slid the book across for Souda’s viewing ease. 

We should begin here, page 28. Do you have a journal for notes?

yeah that’s fine also do u mind me keeping our notes or atleast yours please plz plsssss

Sure enough, the smaller boy was already making a pile of the discarded notes they had forgotten about. Mostly Gundams. It was the only neat thing on the table thus far.

Sighing again, Gundam ceded. He had no use for them, anyway. It caught his attention as slightly strange, but he chose to pay it no mind. Scratching out what information he could on such a small surface, he quickly realized that simply would not work. He slid a mostly-empty notebook from his bag and selected a blank page to share with Souda. It wasn’t as if he really needed the pages in this notebook either, so he added a small note at the top offering the torn-out pages for outside studying.

Souda took the page and studied it, before brightly grinning up at Gundam and quickly nodding. This was fancy shit, definitely not something extremely expensive (he knew Gundam definitely wouldn’t dare share that kind of paper, seeing the small slightly-faded stains of car oil on his hands that he just couldn’t scrub out) but Souda probably wouldn’t be buying these things, especially for every class, without at least a week of ramen dinners to make up for the waste of money working at his Dads mechanic shop.

Souda suddenly realized that ‘fancy shit’ to a slightly broke kid like him was definitely not ‘fancy shit’ to Gundam “I don’t know how to dress casually Ever” Tanaka.

Gundam continued to script line after line, attempting to explain these subjects in terms Souda would understand. The look in Souda’s eyes gnawed at him, such excitement on display over some math notes. He wasn’t certain what rubbed him wrong about it, so he brushed it aside. Reaching the bottom of the page, he printed a small question. 

Do you still understand thus far?

Souda finally grabbed one of his own pens that lay discarded on the table instead of stealing Gundams.

yeah i get it u explain it a lot better than the teachers or chiaki despite ur little demon talk r whatever lol. chiaki use to help me like all the time but she kept falling asleep on me we never got anything done

Reading Souda’s message tempted laughter, and Gundam bit his cheek to silence it. Nodding sagely, he scrawled, As likely as you are to bend truths pertaining to women, this account does seem trustworthy. He knew just as well as anyone how exhausted Chiaki constantly seemed. 

Tugging the newly completed page from its binds, Gundam offered it to Souda as well. 

Souda looked almost offended by the note (he still took it, because of course he did) and hastily scribbled another and shoved it in Gundams chest with a grin.

WOW DICK i’m not gonna go after every girl that falls asleep on me!!! sonia hasn’t fallen asleep on me yet and you know!!!!! >:(((((( 

Gundam stiffened, bandaged hand safely out of sight under the table. If it had been visible, Souda would have a clear view of numb fingers folding against his palm before stretching into claws, over and over. Another deep breath was necessitated by his pounding heart, and he stilled his mind. There was no reason for this feeling. What possible purpose could this rush of adrenaline serve? Certainly nothing pertaining to math. He cleared his throat again, which ended up sounding a bit more like a growl, and took up his pen.

You say “yet”, as if there is even the slightest chance of such an occurrence in the future. This, I do know. A smug smirk crossed his face, daring to settle on his lips.

Souda pouted as he read the note, a somehow adorable sight as he quickly snagged Gundams pen again (once again ignoring his own) and scrawled something on a new note and shoved it back to him. 

nuh-uh! u don’t know shit. unless u can see the future!!! tell me tell me tell me. maybe ur freaky demon shit is real after all ANYWAYS do i end up w miss sonia plz please tell me??!?? :3

Gundam tasted blood as he bit his lip hard. Why was Souda so insistent on her? No, he knew why. She was aesthetically pleasing to someone like him. This was not new information, but it still irked Gundam like hell. He pursed his lips. The last thing he was going to do was tell Souda his pathetic simpering dreams would come true in the end. Or perhaps, the last thing he wanted would be to admit to Souda that he cannot truly see the future? Grumbling, he snatched his pen back and tapped it against his knuckles. Neither option was preferred, though one was a clear admission of weakness…

He settled on a third choice. Of course not. I know precisely who you shall fall for in the end, although I cannot tell you. That is the Law of Causality.

actually it’s the law of cASSuaslity because ur an asshole who the fuck cares why can’t u just tell me!!! if i don’t get with miss sonia or whatever u say i don’t even know if i completely believe ur bonkers shit why can’t u just tell me their name or anything i just!!! want a hint. please 

Kazuichi’s handwriting grew sloppier as he grew more desperate. Why the fuck was Gundam hiding it? It’s not like he’s gonna get suspended for some random ‘law’ or whatever he probably made up. He didn’t even know what the word Causality meant but it sounded exactly like a freaky word Gundam would say.

All I may tell you is that… Gundam paused, wiggling his pen between thumb and forefinger to come up with an excuse. …you have likely already made their acquaintance. All trace of smugness had dropped from his features, now replaced with stale indifference. He locked his worry deep in his chest, buried it. The last thing he needed was Souda to call him out on such a ridiculously big lie.

Souda didn’t know why, but he grinned at that. He grinned at a lot of dumb shit, and Gundam telling him some vague dumbass answer like that was apparently dumb enough to get on his list of Dumb Shit That Made Him Grin. He flicked Gundams note into his ever growing pile and chugged the rest of his drink, his eyes blown wide with the sudden rush of, apparently, sugar. He tapped the textbook again, trying to remind them both to stay on task. His hands were starting to shake too much from the sugar high to make writing any good.

Gundam nodded. They needed to focus on the task at hand.. Which was math. Boring math. Another sigh settled in his chest, and he thought fleetingly on how he would much rather talk about silly magic business. Shaking dramatically dual-toned hair from his eyes, he set to scribbling some more numbers. Stupid, boring numbers. 

Kazuichi watched with interest as Gundam quickly drew out complex strings of numbers and occasional letters. However, his mind quickly drifted as well as his eyes. Higher and higher until he was watching Gundam’s facial expressions shift as he tried to help Souda. How he bit his lip as he hesitated before continuing to keep writing, how his eyes narrowed, Souda half-mindedly thought of how pretty Tanaka’s eyes were, he could get lost in them if he really wanted to, and he did. So he simply tuned out the sound of pen against pencil, rustling of paper and the occasional whisper between others in the library and just stared into his eyes.

Sliding another page across the table, Gundam glanced up at Souda’s face, before they quickly flicked away. On the quickly growing list of things he did Not Want to happen today, was for Souda to catch him staring. Or- he paused. To catch… Souda staring? He didn’t want to look again, even if he was right, but the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as if he could feel Souda’s gaze. Ears growing red, he scripted a small note back, faltering slightly as nerves made his fingers stiff. 

Do you still understand well enough?

Kazuichi’s gaze didn’t move until he finally noticed Gundam actually wrote words down. He did a double take back at his face before he picked up his pen, his cheeks heating up. Shit, did Gundam catch him looking? His hands trembled slightly from the sugar and caffeine as he scribbled on the paper.

yeah i understand completely ur a good teacher  i already said that didn’t i sorry

He slid the note over, now doing his best to keep his eyes on the table and not on Gundam.

Do not fret, I am pleased you understand. 

Clearing his throat as quietly as he could, he returned to numbers. Gundam really tried to focus, he did. But he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering… Muscle memory served him well, and he continued to write, but his mind’s eye strayed from questioning Souda’s gaze, to wondering why keeping their notes tidy was so important, to the way Souda tapped his fingers on the desk ever so slightly, the sugar and caffeine running rampant through his veins. It soon became impossible to focus, and he started mixing up numbers and crossing them out. He shook his head, hard, mumbling apologies for scrambling up his figures. 

Kazuichi easily picked up Gundams distraction and yanked an empty note from him to write on.

do u wanna stop for today

He slid it over, giving Gundam a small smile as he did. He wasn’t unfamiliar with his brain getting jumbled and melting into mush and before he knew it, the day was over and he hadn’t got shit done. So he didn’t mind giving up for today, starting again tomorrow or next week. He just liked being with Gundam, kinda. As weird as that was. 

Gundam nodded. 

My sincerest apologies, I seem to have lost my senses…

What the hell had gotten into him? This was highly unusual for him. Gundam mumbled another quiet sorry, sliding the incomplete and jumbled page across to Kazuichi just in case he needed it anyway. 

Souda tidied everything up on the desk, sliding his books, computer and the notes into his black backpack. As he stood, he bounced on his heels, the caffeine suddenly taking full effect as he finally got out of the chair and could move around to his heart's desire. He slid his backpack over one of his shoulders and didn’t hesitate to start playing with one of the enamel pins of a vocaloid character that hung from the zipper, needing something to occupy his hands with.

Gundam stood as well, fumbling as he slipped the last notebook into his bag. Offering a hand, he gestured towards the door. He whispered, “Shall we meet again tomorrow, then? I swear I shall do better at my job.” 

Kazuichi laughed softly at that, nodding. His hands fiddled with his jumpsuit pockets as he made his way over to Tanaka, a small bounce in his step. He would definitely blame that and what he did next on the overload of caffeine in his system the next day. He put his hands on Gundams shoulders, slightly dragging him down as he stood on his tippy-toes, kissing him sweetly on the lips before he was already skipping towards the door, waving him bye as he exited, most likely to his dorm on campus.

Blood froze in his veins. Gundam’s heart pounded, throbbing in his ears. His face was beyond red, and his stiffened fingers twitched in surprise. Mouth opening and closing like a fish, he could not even will his feet to carry him after the boy. What… What just… happened? His mind felt as slow and sluggish as if it was buffering through a torrented movie file. 

Finally gathering enough control of his own limbs, he pulled himself through the door. He wanted desperately to give chase, to pull Souda into his arms and kiss him back, but he knew there was no possible way he would keep his courage. So he settled, simply deciding upon returning to his own abode. He would have to speak to Souda at their meeting tomorrow. Just thinking about it gave him… butterflies? Oh dear, what an unpleasant sensation.

. . .

Thank you @kazudam for writing with me! This was so much fun, and something I’ve always wanted to do :’) 

#gundham tanaka #kazuichi souda #kazuichi x gundham #gundham x kazuichi #soudam #daily soudam #kazudam as souda #intentional-moss as gundham #mod 🌱

[wri0thesley]

number 11 with Melone?

“So…do you want your underwear back?”

warnings for: obsessive behaviour, stalking. neutral reader and pronouns although reader DOES wear sexy underwear. 

It's the third pair of underwear that's gone missing this week - and you really liked this pair, dammit! You're tired of going out to the cheapest clothes store you can get to with a shit assassin's wage (what kind of asshole pays their assassins this badly? Your boss, apparently), and having to choose ugly pieces that are on sale and not at all your personal style.

And, unfortunately, you know exactly what's happening to them.

You avoid Melone as much as possible. The rest of the team have not been at all coy about telling you you're doing the right thing; making vague references about how Melone treats possible lovers, or about how he can't be trusted, or about how he's just creepy. You've never been assigned to work with him on a mission - by all accounts, Melone works well alone, and Risotto is glad of that. But this is getting ridiculous.

You know it's none of the other guys. For one thing, they don't seem the type - and for another, most of them have shrugged and admitted they're keeping lovers on the side in safehouses and the like. Trying to keep their loved ones safe in the only ways they can. But Melone . . .

Well.

He's got nobody to come home to, if the boys in the squad are right. And from the hungry way he's always looking at you, eyes travelling the length of your body, hunger radiating off every lithe, panther-like inch of him, he's not particularly interested in keeping a lover off-base. He wants his lover somewhere a little closer to home.

It's not that he isn't handsome - he is handsome. It's just that he's so . . . intense. His eyes focused on you, gloved fingers flying over keyboard keys, low hum of acknowledgement in the back of his throat when somebody speaks to him. Utter focus. The cold, clinical way you've heard him talk about both his marks and his Baby Face mothers. Something about him just gives you shivers and shakes. Sorbet and Gelato are terrifying, sure, but they're terrifying in a way where you know what you're getting if you get on their bad side. Melone seems like he could snap at any moment.

You're not doing any good pontificating. You get up from your bed, slamming the drawer shut - your favourite pair of pale blue satin underwear with lacy rose appliques isn't going to retrieve itself from Melone's room on its own, you guess - and neither are all of the other nice pairs you've had to replace with sale rack rejects in leopard print and hot pink. You're sure Melone would appreciate them - he seems like the kind of guy who'd appreciate that kind of performance - but they're not very you.

You try and be quiet as you pad along the hallway. Melone's out on a mark, so you know he's not going to be around to catch you (the schedules of La Squadra members are easy to pick up on if you listen, or if you sweet-talk Illuso and bring him some of that hair conditioner he likes), but you still don't want anyone reporting back to Melone that you've been snooping about his room. Ugh. You wrinkle your nose, stopping outside his door. You can't believe you're going to go in there out of choice.

You hope it's not going to be like a weird fetish porn studio. You can barely look at the way Melone dresses without flushing red - most of La Squadra dress like they're in an erotic movie, but Melone is the utter worst for it. You pause, and take a deep breath. Alright. You can do this.

You push his door open--

And it's normal.

A perfectly ordinary, serviceable bedroom, much like how yours had looked when you'd first moved into the hideout. Yours is possibly a little more lived-in - you have nice coloured blankets and knick-knacks. Melone's bedroom is bare; a laptop on his desk, some biology and astrology books on a shelf, a tarot deck (you shouldn't be surprised about it, based on how much store he puts in where the planets where on nights people were born) - one decorative throw pillow. It's almost sad, how quickly Melone could probably pack his things up and just leave the squad entirely.

You almost feel bad for him, before you remember why it is you're in his room in the first place.

You're pretty sure Melone is stealing your underwear. Your used underwear, to make it even worse! Right out of your laundry hamper! (Melone, coincidentally, doesn't seem to have a laundry hamper. You wonder if his wardrobe is just full of the exact same suit and snort to yourself before you lean down by his bed and open a drawer).

Boring clothes. Civvies; plain shirts and jeans, that Melone almost never wears because his stand means he can work remotely. Clicking your tongue, you rifle through them - and your fingers catch on a hard edge. You push the fabric to one side and pull out . . . a photo album?

Is he secretly soft-hearted? Sentimental in private? There's a small smile on your face as you flick open the photo album, that falters when you realise the polaroids slipped within the clear casings all have one thing in common.

All of them are of you.

You, smiling as you talk to Formaggio. Your head thrown back in laughter on the sofa downstairs in the living room. Concentrating on a mark on a mission you'd been sent on with Prosciutto - your face falls as you rifle through them.

Not just you as a member of La Squadra. 

You as a civilian. 

A picture of you before you'd gotten caught up in this business. A picture of you and your family. Your graduating class--

Your heart begins to beat hard in your chest, as you drop the photo album and wrench open the second drawer.

A half-empty bottle of your perfume, that you thought you'd accidentally thrown away. Post, addressed to your old apartment before you'd moved in here. A napkin with a kiss mark pressed against it, lipstick in a colour you haven't worn for over a year.

Your guts feel like they're dropping through the floor as your shaking hands pull open the bottom drawer. This time, Melone's made no attempt to hide things from you.

Your underwear, neatly laid out beside one another, gussets showing. They're stained with something you know isn't from you. A sex toy that you'd bought and only used once because Pesci had knocked on your door whilst you were using it to check you were okay, and you'd bundled it away in your own bottom drawer so you didn't have to look at it and remember the sheer embarrassment of Pesci maybe overhearing you touching yourself--

Three more polaroids. You, undressing in the shower, bent over to fold your clothes. You, hands buried inside your shorts on your bed. You, getting dressed in a morning, bare in the light filtering through the curtains--

Your face burns at how open and vulnerable your naked body is in them. 

How did he get these?

Your hands are shaking, your mouth dry. You want to take your underwear back, but also - what might Melone do if he finds out you've found his creepy little shrine?

"Enjoying yourself?"

The voice is soft, the cadences gentle - but you still start, falling to one side, your head turning to stare at Melone through wide, frightened deer in the headlight eyes. He sees the fear on your face and smiles, cold and clinical, and you wonder if perhaps he's just going to kill you right here. He shrugs his elegant shoulders.

"I've been watching you for a while," he says, unhurried as he crosses the room, kneeling beside you on the floor like you aren't trembling viciously. He drags a gloved finger over your face in one of the polaroids, his small smile not faltering for a moment. "I had to bide my time, didn't I? But once you find such a perfect match, you don't want to let them go so easily . . ."

"Y-you're sick," you manage to spit out, heart beating like a drum. Melone tips his head to one side, considering.

"Healthy as a horse," he says, after a moment. He winks at you. "Hung like one too, if you want to find out."

Your fingers cling at his stupid, plain, characterless bedspread as you pull yourself onto your shaking legs.

"I'll tell Risotto," you whisper, your heart seizing in your chest. Your voice is coming out so dry.

"And who do you think he'd prefer to lose, cara?"  Melone says. He doesn't sound mean, or patronising, or smug - he sounds like it's a fact of life. "The new recruit, or me? Someone who's never failed on a mission? Who doesn't need a babysitter on jobs?"

"I--" your voice peters away. He's right.

"Besides," he says, motioning at the array of items he's collected. "Do you think I got these myself? Do you think nobody noticed? You're not the only one who can bribe Illuso with hair care products, you know." That same curious, simple smile on his face, he continues; "We share the same favourite brand."

"I . . . This is . . ."

Melone reaches over and he touches your face, griping your cheekbone in his fingers so you can't pull away. Your flesh feels like angry fire every place he skims, sickness rolling in your stomach.

"Oh, you're so pretty," he says, sing-song tone leaking into his voice. "You're going to be so perfect, tesoro."

The spell breaks, and you wrench yourself away. Fuck your underwear. Fuck all of your stuff. You stumble away from him, across the room, heading out of his door on unsteady legs that are at least managing to be fast. You hear Melone's voice, an echoing laugh as you head towards your own room to pack immediately and get the fuck out of here--

"So I'll take it you don't want your underwear back?"

#jjba #yandere melone #not sfw tag #writing #yandere tag #obsessive behaviour #dark content #melone #iwantafreashlybackedbread

[atlafan]

Take it Slow - Part Twenty-Eight

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: TW- Mention of past abuse. Smut.

Masterpost (all previous parts can be found in the masterpost)

Your day with Harry was nice. You got in and out of Walmart as soon as you could so you could get back home to love on each other. You lost track of how many times you made each other come. You weren’t sure what came over him, or what came over you really. Maybe you both were trying to get five days’ worth of pleasure in before your period came.

Right on cue, you got your period Monday morning. You were fully prepared, so no waking up to a crime scene or embarrassment. Your body felt tired from your day of being worked over repeatedly. Harry knew you were getting close to being ready for him. The fact you let him rub his tip against you, even if it was just your clit, made him so happy. He knew you wanted him badly.

You wore your hair down and wavy, and made sure to wear a scarf with your outfit. There was one love bite you had to put some makeup over to cover up, it was just too high up to cover. You felt like the makeup just made it more obvious, but your hair would cover the rest. If anything, you could just tell anyone who asked it was from your curling iron. A lame excuse, but a viable one.

When you walk out of the bathroom, you see Harry sitting up on his laptop. He was starting to edit the photos he took of your family.

“Can I get a peak?” You ask walking to him. He smiles at you and shows you his screen. “Oh, Harry they’re going to love these. I can’t believe these were taken in their living room.”

“Thanks babe. I’m excited to get these over to them.” He looks at the time on his computer and sighs. “I need to shower before I leave for work.” He gets up and stretches. “How’s aunt flow, she show up yet?”

“Yes.” You groan. He gives your lower stomach a little pat, and gives you a kiss on the cheek. “Will I see you tonight?” He raises an eyebrow at you, as if you’ve offended him.

“Course.”

“Well, I didn’t know. We barely saw each other last week.”

“I’m caught up on a lot, won’t be as busy, love.”

“Alright. Well, we didn’t go grocery shopping yesterday.” You blush.

“Don’t know how we could’ve forgotten.” He says facetiously.

“I’d like to go to the gym after work, and then I can stop quickly to pick something up.”

“I can go grocery shoppin’.”

“You’d have time?”

“Sure. S’not a big deal, I know what we both like to eat.” He yawns.

You give him a little hug and a quick kiss in appreciation.

“Have a good day.” He says, patting your bum as you leave.

“You too!”

//

Around ten in the morning, Niall comes bursting into your office and closes the door behind him.

“They’re makin’ me the director!” You stand up and run into his arms. “And, and they’re makin’ you the associate director!” You both jump up and down giddy while hugging. He lets go of you and furrows his brows. “How dare you keep a secret like that from me.”

“They told me not to tell you! You have to apply for your position.”

“I know, but I’m sure to get it. And you! Congratulations!”

“Same to you! Can you believe they’re going to pay for grad school?”

“This is seriously the best place to work. I’m over the moon. We need to find a night to celebrate.”

“Yes yes yes! Hmm, I’m not really free this weekend, it’s my uncle’s Hanukkah party.”

“Is that Saturday?”

“Mhm.”

“How about Friday night? We could just do somethin’ simple.”

“Why don’t we have like a movie night or something? Been ages since we did something like that. We could have wine and junk food.”

“Ooo, I like that idea. How about Friday night then?”

“That should work, I can check with Harry.” You two hug again. You let go of him when you feel like you’re getting kicked in the stomach. “Shit.” You clutch at your stomach and walk over to your desk, and open the drawer where you keep ibuprofen.

“You’ve got to be kiddin’ me.” He rolls his eyes.

“What? A girl can’t pop pills in her own office anymore?” He laughs.

“No, you and Sarah are on the same cycle.”

“Still? That’s funny.”

“Great, so Harry and I will be with two women who have their periods at the same time on Friday, wonderful.”

“Oh stop, should be done by then.”

“How about you and I go out for lunch today, as a little pre-celebration?”

“Love the way you think.”

//

You enjoy a good session at the gym. You did mostly weights standing up, and got on the treadmill for a quick run. You didn’t love working out on your period, but it helped with the cramps. It was starting to get really cold out, but you hated putting all of your warm clothes on after sweating. As you sat down to wipe your neck and chest with a small towel, you noticed a couple people looking at you. You had completely forgotten that with your hair up, and a loose tank top on, all of your love bites were visible. You tried to ignore it, but an older woman sat down next to you to change her shoes.

“You really shouldn’t let someone do that to you.” She says.

“Pardon?”

“Your neck.” She points to one of the marks. “I’ve seen you around here, I’ve seen you with those before, but never quite so dark.”

“Oh…Um, it was just from-“

“Those are not from a curling iron.” She scoffs. “My teenage daughter says the same thing to me. That looks borderline abusive honey.” You stand up, feeling a pit of rage come over you. This woman picked the wrong day to fuck with you.

“Excuse me, but my boyfriend is not abusive.” She stands up.

“Listen, if you don’t feel safe to speak up-“

“I’ve been abused before, so I think I would know the difference between someone intentionally trying to hurt me, and someone simply biting me.” You gather up all your things. “And I’ll have you know, I enjoy it, so why don’t you mind your own damn business. Worry about whoever your daughter is fucking, okay?”

You storm out of the gym, leaving the woman stunned. How dare a stranger come up to you like that, even if she meant well. You drove home, and couldn’t wait to change into some loose sweats, and see Harry. You smiled at the thought of him being in your apartment when you got there.

When you keyed in you smelled something delicious coming from the kitchen. You saw him at your stove, making some pasta and veggies.

“Hey babe.” You smile.

“Evenin’.” He smiles back. “Dinner’s just about ready.”

“How much I owe you for the groceries?” You ask, taking out your wallet. He scoffs. “Harry.”

“It wasn’t expensive, don’t worry about it.” You go to stand behind him and stick your hand in his back pocket, taking his wallet out. “Oi! What do you think you’re doin’?”

“I am putting some money in here.” You take forty dollars out of your wallet, and open his up.

“You don’t have to, and it wasn’t that much.”

“Harry, you are not…” Your voice trails off when you open his wallet. The picture of you Harry from your weekend away was in there. It was the one of you two laughing. “You had this made into a wallet size?” You look at him with loving eyes. His face was beat red.

“Um…yeah.” He runs a hand through his hair. You hand his wallet back to him, and he shoves it into his pocket.

“Do you have more? I’d like one for mine too.”

“I could print one for you, yeah.” He coughs. “Dinner’s just about ready.”

“I’m just gonna go change.”

You peel off your sweaty clothes, and run over your body with a hot wash cloth quick. Then you throw on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Harry squints at your shirt when you come out.

“What?”

“Are you seriously wearing a Jonas Brothers concert shirt?” You look down at yourself. You didn’t really think about what you had put on.

“Well…yeah. I saw them this summer when they came around for their Happiness Begins tour. It was amazing, the girls and I went. I hadn’t seen them since 2010. They really put on a good show.” You shrug, and sit down at the table where your plate of food was waiting for you.

“You really have a variety of music taste, don’t you?” He chuckles, sitting down as well.

“I guess so. We mostly went for nostalgic purposes. I was living, it was so much fun to actually get drunk at a Jonas Brothers concert.” You take a bite of food. “Mm, so good Harry, thank you.”

“So which one is your favorite?”

“What do you mean?”

“Everyone has a favorite brother, which one’s yours?” You point to Joe Jonas, who is in the middle of the shirt. “Which one’s he?”

“Joe.” You swoon.

“Why’s he your favorite?”

“He’s just a really good front man.” You shrug. “I also think he has a better voice than Nick, I mean, it’s like butter. I saw his group DNCE live a couple years ago, and they were so good. He sounds better by himself.” You laugh. “But I’m glad they’re back together. It like, gave me hope in a weird way.”

“Hope?”

“Yeah, when I heard they got back together it was one of the first time I felt overjoyed about something. And they all just looked so happy. It was a great way to start off 2019.”

“Sarah, Rachel, and Kate…you didn’t know of them from high school right?”

“Nope. Only met in college.”

“Do you have any friends from high school you still talk to?”

“A couple here and there. I have one childhood best friend that it’s easy to pick up with when we get together. I had a very small group of friends in high school. I sort of jumped around from different friend groups too. I didn’t really find my people until I went to college. What about you?”

“Yeah, I’ve got some mates back home I’m still close with. Try to face time once in a while. I suppose that Lou and Niall are my best mates though.”

“Maybe after we get back from our trip we could find some time to go see Louis and Eleanor.” He gives you a half smile. “I can keep her preoccupied while the two of you catch up.” You giggle.

“She’s really not that bad, I just don’t like competin’ with people for attention.” Niall was right, Harry is a bit clingy. “But yeah, we could plan somethin’ for after we get back.”

//

Tuesday after work, you had your appointment with Dr. Mara. You had a lot to tell her.

“That’s wonderful news about your job!”

“Thanks, I’m so excited. I think I’ve narrowed it down to two different schools. If I can get this figured out soon, I could enroll for the spring semester.”

“How do you think your stress load will be? Adding something on like that?”

“Well, I’d really only be able to take one or two classes a semester. One school has these great eight week courses. I’m going to speak with my supervisor this week to see what she thinks.”

“What did Harry say when you told him?”

“He was over the moon! He said he was really proud of me, he even took me out to celebrate. He’s very supportive of my career.”

“That’s great. How long have you two been together now?”

“Four months now.” You smile. “It’s been amazing. Not all of it has been perfect, but nothing ever is. There’s so much that’s good between us.”

“Speaking of that, anything new with him you’d like to tell me?”

“Um…I had a trigger recently, a week or so ago.”

“I see, what happened?”

“I was…um…well…” You were used to talking to her about all of these things, but it always took you a minute to find the words. “I was pleasuring him, and my hair was up in this ponytail, and he, well, he yanked me by that hair and he did it a little too hard. And…”

“You saw Jake…” She frowns.

“Not so much that I saw him, but I had flashes to his hands pulling my hair harshly. I ended up biting down on Harry.”

“Did you tell him what happened?”

“Yes, he was very understanding. I was shaken up, but I was fine afterwards.”

“Anything happen since then?”

“No…I feel like I’m getting closer with him. I let him rub his tip against me.” You look away. “Only on my...well...you know, so not all over me, but it didn’t scare me.”

“That’s very good. Did he ask you to do this, or did you initiate?”

“I initiated. I’ve found myself wanting him more and more, but I’m still terrified. I mean, I didn’t even know him pulling my hair was going to trigger me like that. What if we’re doing it, and he jerks the wrong way, or hits too hard by accident?”

“You can think of these what ifs and keep scaring yourself, or you could do what you’ve been doing and just let things happen as they happen. You’ve made a tremendous amount of progress. The truth is, you may not know what’s going to set you off, but I think as long as you two talk it through together, you should be fine.”

“I just feel like talking the whole time takes the heat out of it. Is this okay? How does that feel? Doing alright?” You mimic his accent. “I love that he checks in with me, but I also don’t want him to feel like he’s going to hurt me.”

“Just tell him you’ll let him know if you don’t like something.”

“I do! But he still checks in with me, he gets this worried look on his face every time I make a sound he hasn’t heard before. I feel terrible. I’d rather he be more cautious and careful than not, but…” You sigh. She nods in understanding. “I think I just get frustrated because I just wish I could go back to the way I was before. When I’m with Harry, I feel that way, and then these things happen. And I know he’s frustrated too…”

“How can you tell?” You take the scarf away from around your neck. She gasps. “Christ, he isn’t hurting you is he?”

“No, it’s nothing like that. They look a lot worse than they feel.” You give a small laugh. “But I can tell he does it harder when he’s…trying not to show how frustrated he is. I think it’s a way for him to release some tension.”

“And you just let him do this? In such visible areas?”

“Well, I talked with him about it and he said he’d try to be more careful…he did say something interesting though.”

“Interesting how?”

“When we were talking about it, he said if he didn’t do it here.” You point to your neck. “Then how were other people supposed to know I had a boyfriend…”

“How did it make you feel when he said something like that to you?” Your cheeks heat up.

“Um…well, I sort of liked it. You don’t think it’s possessive do you?”

“Does he talk to you like that often?”

“Not really, once in a while he’ll say something sort of flirty in that context.”

“Hm.” She pauses, clearly thinking over what she’s going to say to you. “Have you and Harry ever discussed what you like or don’t like during sex?”

“I’m not sure I know what you’re getting at…”

“Kinks, has Harry ever talked to you about his kinks in the bedroom?”

“Not really…I mean the biting is definitely one of them.”

“That, the hair pulling.”

“He more so likes it when I pull his hair.”

“I think this is something you two should discuss. It seems he may be into some things…that may be a little more aggressive, which is fine, but you’ll sort of want to be prepared.”

“It’s not like he’s into BDSM Dr. Mara.”

“He could be. How do you know? You haven’t discussed it. He could easily be holding a lot back because he wants to make sure you’re alright.”

//

You drove home wrapping your head around everything Dr. Mara said. She could easily be right, all of the signs point to Harry being a little kinky…although you weren’t sure how to bring something like that up. You two usually just discovered what the other liked while you were doing it. But if you were going to have sex with him soon, you needed to know ahead of time what he might do to you.

Harry was watching TV when you walked in. He was wrapped in a blanket, laying down. He sat up when you came in. You walk over and kiss him on the cheek.

“Hi love. There’s some leftovers in the fridge.”

“Thanks, I’m not super hungry right now.” You yawn. You usually didn’t feel hungry after therapy. “Maybe later, but thanks for making something.”

“How was your session?” He asks, adjusting himself to lay his head in your lap. You run your hands through his soft hair.

“Good.”

“That’s it?” He looks up at you.

“She was, um, concerned about my neck.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure really.” You didn’t like lying to him, but you didn’t really feel like having the conversation in that moment. “She just pointed it out, a couple people have actually.” Harry sits up to look at you.

“What people?”

“This random woman at the gym last night…she usually goes around the same time. She was like you shouldn’t let someone do that to you, and all this other shit.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He puts a hand on your thigh.

“I don’t know…because I don’t want you to stop doing it. I like it.” You groan. “Just wish they were better accepted in society. I mean, it really is just a way to show affection.” You look at him for a moment. “Does anyone ever say anything to you?”

“Not really…you don’t bite me as hard as I bite you. It’s already healed up.” He reaches his thumb up to run over one of the spots on your neck. “Guess I should take a break from this spot.”

“Why do you like to bite so hard?”

“Don’t know really, I don’t think I realize how hard I’m doin’ it.” He shrugs. You squint at him, not really believing that’s the whole truth.

“I think you do realize. I can tell, depending on how hot and heavy we’re going at it.” Harry was starting to sweat. “It’s okay if you have a reason, I’m not mad…curious mostly.”

“You really wanna know?”

“Please, enlighten me.”

“Turns me on when I see your skin turn that dark purple.” He says matter of factly.  

“Why?” You say blushing. He doesn’t answer at first. He runs a hand through his hair.

“I don’t know.”

“Harry.” You smile and put a hand on his knee.

“I really don’t! Just somethin’ I like doin’. Can’t really explain it.”

“Do you think it’s an, um, territory thing? You said the other day, like, how would everyone know I had a boyfriend.”

“I was just jokin’ when I said that. I’m not a possessive guy.”

“I don’t think possession and territory mean the same thing in this instance. Like, you’re marking your territory so everyone knows they can’t have me.”

“That doesn’t sound possessive to you?”

“No? It’s not like you’re controlling me. Like, I think if you were possessive, like, oh! Like, over the weekend, if you were possessive, you either would have told Rachel to leave, or you would have stayed to hang out with us, and wouldn’t have allowed me to see my friend.”

“So, you’re okay with me marking my territory?” You felt your pulse rising. Earlier, you weren’t sure how you felt about it. But now that you two were talking about it, it did sort of turn you on.

“Yes.” He leans forward to kiss you, but you press your hands against him. “But, we need to cool it with how visible these are for a couple weeks. We see my family Saturday, and then a week after that we head to England. I am not meeting your mother with a giant, purple hickey on my neck, I’m just not.”

“Okay, but you’re gonna have to let me do it somewhere else then.”

“As long as it’s somewhere discrete, that’s fine with me.”

Harry’s shit eating grin grew over his face. He scoops you up, and carries you to the bedroom. You giggle as he puts you down on the bed.

“Take your clothes off.” He stands and waits for you to undress. You suddenly remember your period.

“Babe, I have to leave my underwear on. In fact, let me just put some shorts on.” You throw on a pair of cotton shorts. “Aunt Flow’s here, remember?” He nods yes.

He walks around your half-naked body. “Hmmm.” You feel goosebumps raise all over you.

Harry wraps his arms around you from behind, holding you in place as he sucks on the top of your left shoulder. You shiver as his teeth slowly sink into you, sucking the skin into his mouth. He lets go of it, and you hear a pop come from his lips. He moves to the back of your right shoulder blade, and does the same exact thing, leaving a nice purple bruise behind. A loud groan escapes. One of his hands slides down to your stomach, and you feel his smile against you.

“Feels that good, huh?”

“You know it does.” You say blushing.

“So I can keep going then?”

“Yes.”

“Lay down on the bed.” He watches you get on the bed as he takes his shirt off. He smirks at you. “Ass up, please.” You blush and flip over.

He climbs on top of you, and leaves gentle kisses on your shoulders and neck. His kisses move down your back, and takes the skin on your lower back just above your ass cheek between his teeth. You gasp as he bites down hard and sucks on the skin.

“Doin’ okay?”

“Yes.”

His hands reach your hips, and flips you over. He gazes at your body, not sure where he should start first.

“What are you going to do to me, Harry?” You seemed so innocent in this moment, it was a massive turn on for him.

“Just gonna kiss ya all over, you okay with that?” He coos. You nod your head yes.

He kisses you on the lips, and runs his thumb over one of the marks that already exists on your neck. He kisses down to your chest. He takes the skin just above your best between your teeth and sucks hard. Your hands grasp at the sheets. You didn’t realize you loved the sensation quite so much. Maybe it was just because it was Harry doing it, and you knew he liked it.

He sucked on both of your nipples pretty hard, and worked his way down your stomach. He nipped at the skin just above your hips, paying equal attention to each one. He spreads your legs, and sinks his teeth into your inner left thigh. Your breath hitches when you hear the popping noise as he lets go.

Harry looks up at you, and scans over your body. He’s extremely happy with his work. You had nice purple splotches all over your body. His lips were swollen and a shade of raspberry.

“What do you think?” He asks. You lean up on your elbows and scan over yourself. “Your body was the perfect canvas for my art.” You giggle at his joke.

“Well…I have to say, looks pretty good on me.” You lick your lips. You wished you didn’t have your period, you wanted his mouth back on you so bad.

You give him a devious smile. He raises an eyebrow at you.

“What?”

#harry styles #take it slow #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles smut fic #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles y/n fic #how yall doin

[ajokeformur-ray]

Can I request an angsty fic for Arthur? Can it be about his s/o researching apartments and jobs outside of Gotham because they want to move away and they accidentally leave the print-outs of these jobs and homes somewhere Arthur sees them and he things they are leaving him. it can either be a headcanon or an imagine, your choice :)

*Low whistle* okay, this broke my heart so, sorry, but I had to make it fluffy at the end. I can’t hurt Arthur. He’s been through so much already. 

TW; arguing, shouting, miscommunications in a relationship, very insecure Arthur, smoking, swearing, mentions of reader suffering from panic attacks, mentions of gaslighting… is angsty but ends fluffy. I need our sad clown boi to be happy. 

Word count: 1, 718.

When you got home from work, you could have cut the tension in the room with a knife. As you shut the door and took off your coat, shoes and let your bag drop gently to the floor where it would stay until tomorrow morning, Arthur remained sat on the sofa, his head leaning over the back, his legs spread and his knees aggressively bouncing as he took long, deep drags from his cigarette, burnt down nearly to the filter, and pursed his lips with every exhale. 

He paid no mind to you at all and that made you incredibly nervous. Instantly did you know that you were in trouble. Arthur never ignored you. Even when he was asleep, you were perfectly at rights to wake him up for something as simple as the fact that you want to hear his voice at three in the morning, or that you want a cuddle and you can’t because he’s laying wrong. You could wake him up for anything at any time and he would indulge you because you were Arthur’s entire world and he never let you doubt that for even a second.

You were in deep shit and you fucking knew it.

“Arthur? Honey, what’s - “

Arthur lifted his head up and fixed you with a cold look which chilled you to the bone. Ah, fuck. What had you done? What hadn’t you done, if that was the case? Had you forgotten something? Distantly in your mind were you attracted to this angry Arthur, but now really wasn’t the time to jump his bones like there was no tomorrow. If his current mood continued without you extracting any answers from him, there wouldn’t be a tomorrow. Not for you as a couple, anyway.

You felt sick now as he continued to stare at you. He stood up from the sofa, busied himself with lighting another cigarette, and reached out to grab a thick sheath of paper from the dining room table. “What is this?” Arthur’s voice was quiet, so quiet you almost couldn’t hear him over the roaring in your head. You were starting to panic now. Any longer and he would send you into a panic attack. His voice was like ice. His eyes lacked warmth. His body declined you coming closer to him. His nostrils flared. He was fucking livid.

You stepped back one pace and his eyes tracked the movement. Somehow, you moving further away from him only angered him further. “It says here that you’re looking for places to live outside of Gotham. When were you going to tell me, honey?” Arthur spat out the last word and your eyes zoned into the pages he was holding, relief flooding you. Ohhh~. You knew you had forgotten to do something this morning in your haste to get to work before you were late. Even so, why had you decided to leave them in plain sight knowing that Arthur didn’t know any of your plans yet? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Arthur, about that, I - “

You turned from him and went to get a drink from the kitchen. You needed a cup of coffee. Your head was pounding, your heart was racing, your hands were starting to shake and you felt sick.

“No. No, you do not get to walk away from me, Y/N.”

Arthur came forward and you sped up into the kitchen. “Please don’t give me a hard time, just let me - “

“I’ll give you a fucking hard -” Arthur rounded into the kitchen and stopped dead when he saw that you were on the border line of having a panic attack. You hated raised voices, you hated being closed in and you hated the way he was making you feel right now. It just wasn’t okay, even if he did look really fucking hot when he was angry. Not the time, Y/N… you chided yourself.

You watched as Arthur took several deep breaths, clenched his fists by his sides still holding the papers, the cigarette dangling from his mouth, and made a very admirable visible effort to calm himself down. When seconds had ticked past, Arthur pressed a hand to his forehead, his intense green eyes meeting yours in desperation while his free hand grabbed the cigarette, which he flicked the excess ash off quickly and put it out by drawing a smiley face on the wall. Instantly could you see the true reason for his anger - he was scared. You took a minute just to put the pieces together. 

“Fuck! Fuck, no, Arthur, it’s not what you think, I promise!” You rushed over to him and pulled him into a hug. Arthur stayed completely still in your hold, not letting himself give in. So often had people kept him in the dark, kept secrets from him, and then when he had found out they had gas-lighted him into thinking he was crazy, that he was delusional, that he was wrong. He had been stupid to think that you were different. You were leaving him and you hadn’t even bothered telling him. It was really sad how nothing ever surprised Arthur anymore.

“Are you leaving me?” Arthur’s voice was nothing more above a whisper, his voice so soft, so heartbroken. 

You bit your lip against your tears. How could you have done this to him, even by complete accident? You were paying for your lack of forethought now. “No. I would never leave you.” You should have told him your plans from the start, involved him in the process from the start. Surprises were not appreciated when it came to Arthur, even the good ones. He had been taught that secrets hurt, that surprises hurt, that people would always leave in the end. Hadn’t you taught him anything?

“Then what is it?” Arthur was still tense in your hold. You pulled away to look him fully in the face, your arms still around his shoulders, your fingers still toying with his hair. You were trying so hard to calm him down, even with your own hands shaking, the panic attack still looming over you. Your breathing had slowed down though, so you knew you would be okay. Your breathing was always your first clue that an attack was coming on.

“I’m making plans for us to leave this city. Together.” Your lips twitched as you made the emphasis deliberate. You finally noticed that he still had the papers and you tugged them out of his grip, tutting when you saw how badly he had crinkled them. “Look - I found a single bedroom apartment just outside of Gotham. There’s a comedy club nearby that you could work at, and there’s another place near there I could work. Money would be tight but… when isn’t it?” 

Arthur was silent, his expression frozen in a deep frown as he stared at you, his eyes unseeing.

“Too much.” You muttered to yourself. You had told him too much too fast and now he needed some time to just… replay your words, replay them again, replay the entire evening and just work it all out in his own time. Patience was always extremely necessary with Arthur. If you tried to make him talk before he was ready, before he had the words to speak, then he would close up so fast you wouldn’t even notice that he had been thinking of opening up. His walls were built up so strongly that even he couldn’t control them anymore.

“You want us to… live together… outside the city? You want a life with me?” Arthur was talking slowly, his voice incredulous, his tone soft yet somehow also raspy at the same time. Fuck, you loved him. You were head over heels for Arthur Fleck.

You nodded. “If you want to. I’m sorry I kept it from you. I was going to tell you when everything had been sorted out so that you had nothing to worry about.”

“I’m sorry, too.” Arthur stepped away from you, putting physical distance between you, and looked you square in the face. Whatever he was about to say was important to him, and you did him the silent favour of giving him his favourite kind of audience: you. All of Gotham could have been at his feet hanging onto his every word in that moment and he would still only have eyes for you. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. That wasn’t right.”

“Apology accepted.” You smiled at him to take the edge off the moment. You could breathe now. The storm had passed. “Am I forgiven?” Please say yes, please say yes, please say - 

“No.” 

Your jaw dropped at Arthur’s completely serious face. “Shit, Arthur, I’m so so -”

He smiled without humour at you and you realised he had been partially joking. “I don’t forgive you because there’s nothing to forgive. You did nothing wrong. I’m the one who yelled at you, who scared you so bad you nearly had an attack. I’m sorry.”

You stepped forward, watched him carefully for any signs of rejection, and pulled him into a hug. He went with you gladly, melting into your hold, and you knew that the time for talking was over. There would be nothing more said tonight. You would choose an apartment together, focus on finding jobs, and then when the impossible became the probable and then the possible and then, the reality, then you would talk.

For now… for now, there was some serious cuddling to be done. However, there was one last thing you had to say - 

“Arthur?”

He hummed into your neck gently, his breath tickling the hairs that lay there. he sounded like he was right on the edge of sleep. Well, you would take him to bed but not to sleep. You grinned deviously as you stroked his hair in a soothing motion.

“Did you know you’re really fucking attractive when you’re angry?”

Arthur pulled back from you just in time for a loud bout of laughter to rip its way out of his throat. You didn’t mind, though - he wasn’t laughing from pain or from nerves. He was laughing because he was happy and that was all you had ever wanted for him.

Now to secure your future together…

Arthur Fleck/Joker:  @writings-of-a-gen-z @x-avantgarde-x @mapreza1 @insomniabird @mavalenovaninagavi @itwasrealenough @morrisonmercurymalek  @rand0ms-fand0ms @rafaelina-casillas @aclownthing @rebs-doom @vivft @help-i-am-obssessed @autumnaffection @taintednihilist @vladtoly @mg-woolf99 @misstgrey92 @that-s-life @dopey-girl-blogs @seeking-dreamland @sweetheart-syndrome @heartxfdesire @xmusichealsthesoulx @0callmejude0 @the-one-that-likes-riddles @hannibalsslut @folliaght @freeeshavacadoo @bingewatchingmylifegoby @unlovedbyeveryoneandeverything @okamiredfoxx @sp0okysp0oky

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