#( ooc. ) OUT OF CIGS.

[talentforlying]

shit about john constantine that makes me feral to remember:

sent his abusive father checks until the day he died so thomas could keep the house.

a serial killer got so obsessed with him after meeting face-to-face exactly Once that he skipped out on a guest of honor spot at a wholeass serial killer convention just to chase john around.

some of his hair is buried in the garden of eden.

frequently dissociates for up to/over 5 hours at a time.

accidentally summoned a bunch of spirits called the mendw by reading off the ingredients on a packet of muesli.

was trapped for forty fucking years in a pocket reality while only about a month passed in the real world.

is older than both doctor who and bubble wrap.

was friends with some of the foremost magical pioneers in all of london.

descended from lady johanna constantine who both helped and had beef with dream back in the 1700s.

part of a long, weird family history of constantines killing their twin in the womb, except his twin popped in from a parallel universe to fuck with him afterwards.

buried his childhood innocence in a toy house when he was a kid.

got kissed by king arthur.

is, in the current si spurrier run, physically dead and rotting.

[chronal-anomaly]

I need more threads w Lena smoking in them,,,,

[sanctamater]

i know ken's bs was trying to say that liz didn't break the circle and became like booker but actually she became her mother and both of these outcomes are fucking miserable both liz and amelia need to go home and pack up the saviour complex

[genetic-gamble]

Hey everyone, just finished up some personal stuff as well as school. How have you all been? I’ll be getting in touch with everyone I owe threads with to see who still wanted to continue

[darkuselesssomebody]

𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 - slightly dark!steve murphy x reader

complete masterlist | navigation

words || 𝟛𝕜

summary || in which the reader parties a little too hard, and then gets the d.e.a. at her door.

a/n || this is for @toxicanonymity's boyd-a-thon fundraiser where $10 is donated to PCRF for every (up until 30 total) fic she gets about a Boyd Holbrook character. this is the link for more information on the writing event: boyd-a-thon!! I think it's so fun: building community, getting some great content and donating to a very worthy cause. if you're interested, please check them and the fundraiser out.

➵ warnings for specific content before the divider, please heed them

➵ technically ooc to steve in the show, and is set pre-connie, when he was working DEA in Florida.

➵ not proofread

➵ comment/message if you'd have a request

warnings || smutty/slightly dark

➵ !! reader is somewhat inebriated and is coaxed into compliance to a certain extent !!

➵ !! civilian/handcuffed criminal & officer power dynamic; ergo, abuse of power !!

➵ dubcon

➵ manhandling/cloth ripping

➵ abuse of power

➵ groping

she really wasn't the typical co-ed.

especially compared to her classmates, she tried so hard to stay away from the frat boys, the sweaty, horrible sex, and the copious amounts of substances. she'd promised her parents as much, and they'd threatened to otherwise cut off their support, so, she made sure to be as prim and proper as possible.

of course, she wasn't a nun. she drank, smoked if a cig was offered, had a few bad hook-ups, but come on. compared to everyone else? she was the virgin Mary.

and she'd told her parents as much, when they'd found out about her post-lecture activities.

unfortunately, that wasn't quite enough.

she had poured out her sorrows to her boyfriend- well, situationship - mark, as he kept instructing the bartender to pour her drinks, in the small, poorly lit, but quiet, bar.

"they won't pay my tuition or rent." she pouts, "I'll have to get an job, and then I won't be able to study - and then-" he shushes her with a sloppy kiss.

"you'll be fine." he assures, and she's just drunk enough not to realize he's saying that so he can get her into his bed faster.

it works, and, by one a.m., they'd gotten back to his, had sex, and she'd passed out. he wasn't a heartless bastard, though, he makes her some breakfast the next morning, and finally, properly, listens to her woes.

"i'm just so stressed. and I dunno if they'll - well… forgive me." she groans, rubbing her temples. he sighs, looking across at her contemplatively.

"you know what you need?" he muses, "to relax. thank god spring break is coming up, we should go somewhere." he suggests, squeezing her hand.

"somewhere? mark, the only place I can afford is the local diner." she scoffs, making him laugh, rolling his eyes.

"i'll pay for you." she blinks, looking up at him curiously.

"what?" she knew he came from a pretty well-off family, but that was a pretty big gift.

"yeah, c'mon. you've been such a recluse the last 2 years, s'what your friends say. let's go to Miami beach, hmm?" he smiles, hugging her as he noses up her neck. her face flushes, going warm.

"mi-miami b-beach? are you kidding me, mark? that's not you being good to me, that's - so expensive." he laughs at her worry.

"you're worth it." that makes her smile, "gotta make my girl feel better, right? besides…" his voice quietens conspiratorially, "I wanna finally corrupt you." laughing, she swats at his hands.

"corrupt? mark!" her tone is scolding, but it does little to deter mark.

"live a little, baby." he hums into her neck.

her face grows hotter.

"whatever you say."

--

miami was one of the warmest places she'd been to. always with a thin sheet of sweat, and always with one of those gimmicky, hand-held fans, she kept a firm hand in mark's to avoid the scammers, and worse, the creeps. he laughs at her apprehension, helping her into the taxi to their hotel.

it was small, with just a simple bed, but mark assured her it's fine because they'd hardly be there anyways. she wondered what that meant.

she immediately found out what it meant, that night, when mark drags her to one of the massive parties held at the nearby clubs and at the beaches. surrounded by primarily college students, mark keeps a hand on her hips as they navigate the party. "get a drink?" he shouts over the music and chatter, and she nods, pressed against him so she doesn't get lost.

she gets something with ice, not really caring about the actual drink - just needing to cool off. mark sways to the music, holding her close, and she giggles as he tries to get her to dance with him.

"c'mon, baby, loosen up." she pouts.

"I don't wanna sweat, mark." he laughs, wiggling his eyebrows.

"that's the whole point. besides, I'll have you sweating by morning, anyways." his tone drips with innuendo, and she rolls her eyes playfully, pushing away his face. he evades, dipping his head and playfully biting her jaw, making her squeak.

"loosen up." he insists, and she giggles.

"fine."

the night went on for way too long. after one drink, she started dancing with mark. after two, they started making friends. after three, they got invited to someone's hotel room, where she's already a little woozy from the alcohol and heat.

"you wanna try something?" mark asks, leading her into the hotel bathroom, and locking the door, "scored some nice shit for us." he grins, fishing a baggie from his pocket. her eyes widen in slight horror and significant shock.

"what the hell, mark?" she mumbles, lips a little numb, but he dismisses her with a wave of his hand.

"it's fine, baby, loosen up." she looks at him indignantly.

"it's not fine, mark! isn't it really addictive? and really illegal?" she hisses, voice lowered out of worry someone outside will hear them. he rolls her eyes.

"baby, I've been on this stuff with sophomore year, and you didn't even know. s'not that addictive, and you just gotta be a little careful. that's what you got me for." he pulls her into him, both of them leaning on the sink counter. "besides… you gonna rat me out?" he jokes, making her cheeks warm.

"no…" she murmurs meekly. he kisses her cheek.

"good! then we won't get in trouble. you trust me, right baby?" his voice has just that perfect mix of pleading and reassurance, and she sighs.

"yes."

"atta girl! you're in for the night of your life."

it wasn't the night of her life, it was a whole week. every day was the same routine, late morning with a greasy breakfast to combat the hangover, afternoon at the beach, early dinner, and the trawling for a party. they'd drink, dance, and then find a bathroom to fuck in, which wasn't too different than what they did on normal weekends, but this week, she had the added intake of coke to sustain the lifestyle.

it was euphoric, and unlike any experience she'd have. a little gross, what with the snorting, but mark wasn't too bad with the aftercare. he never told her where he got his supply, and she never asked. who'd she tell, right?

at least, that's what she figured until the party they were at got raided by the d.e.a. she squeals in shock as she hears the harsh shouts of some officers, and mark is quick to press his hand tightly over her mouth, pressing a finger to his lips to motion her to shut the fuck up.

he slowly readjusts her skirt to place it back above her hips, but it's a shoddy job, and they breathe into each other's mouths as they wait in silence, hoping the locked door will be inconspicuous enough that they can't get caught.

unfortunately not.

a sharp knock on the door makes her jolt again, mind already a little fuzzy from the start of the party, and the voice that accompanies it is as intimidating as she'd imagined.

"d.e.a., open up!" they command. she goes to comply, but mark immediately pulls her back, gripping her hard enough to hurt, making her eyes widen in shock. he looks at her with eyes saying what the fuck are you thinking?! and she looks back with i'm scared. the knocks don't stop, "want me to break this damn door down?" the voice threatens, and mark grits his teeth in annoyance as he secedes, unlocking the door.

a man - built, taller than her, maybe mark's height - with blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, raises an amused brow at the pair.

"look who we have here, brady." he tilts his head to call for his partner, who comes clambering back into the room, whistling in excitement.

"yeah, they'll do. c'mon, you two." he gestures mark and her to walk out, "we need to have a few words."

--

she was now sitting in the back of a cop car, handcuffed, feeling tears brimming in her eyes.

after handcuffing the two, steve and brady had flipped a coin to decide who got to interrogate the pretty little thing, and who got the dweeby boyfriend. brady's luck was really not on his side this week - even his cards had been screwing his over on his nights - and he rolled his eyes as he, rather forcefully, shoved mark in a patrol car.

steve grinned as he opened her door for her - almost like a gentleman - making sure she was nicely settled before starting the ignition.

she wasn't hurt, sure, but god, was she scared. she was always such a good girl - and she'd just gotten arrested?! halfway across the country, while on vacation?! she felt like a complete idiot, and she was starting to feel pretty bitter towards mark for even roping her into this.

her lip had quivered as she heard steve talking about his eta to the station, and she was now dejectedly tearing up at the thought of having this on her record.

she's a good girl.

that was what she was telling herself, and what steve was gleefully realizing, as he glanced back at her in the rearview mirror.

"y'ain't been caught up in this kinda stuff before, have ya?" he finally breaks the near-silence, and it makes her glance up at the little dit of his profile she can discern in the dark car.

"n-no, officer." she finally stutters out, throat dry. he notices, passing her some water.

"hot as a bitch, ain't it?" he hums, tone friendly, and it makes her soften as she gulps the liquid down.

"yeah… it is." there's another moment of silence, before she realizes they're coming to a stop. at a pretty abandoned street corner. she looks around, confused, before she sees steve turning in his seat to face her.

"why don't you an' I have a li'l chat right here, darlin'?" he proposes, and she immediately tenses in discomfort.

"wh… why not at the station?" he laughs, a little breathily.

"why would I go all the way to the station, when you can tell me what ya know right here, right now, without worrying yer pretty little head about yer record. ya do know coke abuse, now, that's a pretty serious crime, darlin'." he drawls, eyes grazing over her body. she bites her lip.

to have no real record of this? that would be amazing…

"um… okay? I guess, what - what did you wanna ask me?" she doesn't know if she can meet his eyes. it makes her core pulse.

"now, you don't look like you were the one gettin' those goodies. who was givin' 'em to ya, hmm?"

"my - uh…" she inhales sharply, unsure if she can rat out mark. she really doesn't want to; he's good to her. most of the time. "some guy at the party." it's not technically a lie, which makes steve scoff more pronounced.

"it was yer friend, darlin'. or was it boyfriend? based on that li'l bathroom debacle, seems like he's yer boyfriend." he teases.

her cheeks heat, flush obvious even though he can hardly make out her face, just from her shifting alone. why was she suddenly so shy about the label?

"it's not really like that…" and why is she trying to assure this officer that she's not taken?

"yeah, darlin', s'what I figured - after all, you're name's spillin' out of his mouth accordin' to my partner." her eyes widen in horror.

"wait, what?!"

"yeah, that's what he's sayin' - that ya went out back and then came in with a baggie." steve has to hide his smile, because he almost adores the little look on her face which tries - and fails - to conceal her conflicting emotions of betrayal, disgust and confusion. steve knows just why - mark probably isn't that type of guy. and Steve knows that, cause he just made that little tidbit up, "so, what's it gonna be, darlin'? i'd definitely have to take you in if my only talkin' witness says yer the culprit."

her eyes sting with frustration and fear, and small whimper of discomfort bubbles in her throat.

"fine, fine. it was him, he's been buying coke for most of the past few nights. but I don't know where he gets it from." she insists, deflating a little in the backseat. that causes steve to wave his hand dismissively.

"ain't gotta be worried 'bout that, darlin', he can rat out his own friends." he assures, before humming in satisfaction, "see? now, was that so hard?" his drawl is condescending, and she picks at a hangnail. "yer a good girl, darlin', ya shouldn't protect guys like that." he assures, nonchalantly tugging her fingers away from each other so she doesn't continue the fidget-y, destructive behavior. "what's he even got goin' fer ya fer ya t'wanna save his ass?" he muses, a predatory smile on his face. she thinks it looks cruel.

"he's not a bad guy, he's not some drug lord, he's just gotten too caught up in all-"

"s'he yer man?" he cuts through her timid explanations. he's asking again, with a direct purpose this time. "girl like you… he wouldn't know a damn thing 'bout handling ya." he teases, hands moving down from where he's keeping her fingers from picking at themselves, and onto her knees that poked out, bare, under her short, somewhat flowy dress. "ain't I right, darlin'? he could never treat ya right, could he?"

she stills in utterly shock, before sliding her ass back until it slammed the backrest, effectively jolting away from him. "what are you doing?!" she gasps, and it makes him grip her knees harder, pulling her towards him.

"s'okay, m'jus' talkin' ta ya, darlin'." he assures, thumbs rubbing circles into her skin to soothe her. it hardly works, and she feels a paradoxical discomfort in her throat and arousal between her legs. "answer me, then. he treat ya like ya deserve?"

her breath hitches, "I - i don't know what that means-" she admits, too flustered to even let out a coherent thought. he tuts in disappointment.

"then he's a bigger bastard than I thought. not worshippin' a girl like you…" he goes quiet, before a throaty groan leaves him. "it's a cryin', fuckin' shame." he grips her thighs so tightly that she winces, and the little noise is enough to make him go crazy. before she can process, he's out of the front seat, and climbing next to her in the back. her hands are stiff cuffed, and it allows him to move her body easily to be pressed against the opposite door, giving him plenty of room to slide in. "ya wanna have a real man, darlin'? tha's wha' it is? these fuckin' college boys should know better than to disappoint ya, huh - tryna play with the big boys with that li'l baggie you were snortin'?" his words are rough, heavy, fast and overlapping, and she's quickly overwhelmed purely by his presence. his mouth is on hers before she can stop him, but it doesn't exactly seem to him that she would have - the way her lips press back against his hungrily and her tongue flicks out curiously.

a soft moan escapes her, and he grabs the collar of the low-cut dress, ripping it straight down her middle. "oh my god-!" she tries to gasp, but his bruising kiss shuts her up as he gropes her breasts hard enough to make her whimper and squirm.

"thatta girl, wanna li'l rough lovin'?" his eyes are wild and ecstatic, looking down at her as he pants in anticipation. he slowly begins to undo his shirt, and her eyes widen as she follows the movement of his deft fingers down his button-up, greedily savoring the slivers of skin that are exposed underneath. he finally pulls it off, lean body more defined in the dim light of the back alley, shadows accentuating the curves of his biceps, as he places his hands on the door either side of her face, leaning down to mouth at her neck.

for a moment, it's romantic, and then, it's desperate. the taut skin of her neck is the meal to his starved kisses and bites, painful and arousing nibbles trailing down her neck and the newly exposed skin of her chest from where he'd ripped her dress.

"officer, wait-" he presses a hand quickly over her mouth - with the reflexes of a trained law enforcement agent - and the protest dies in her throat. she's almost grateful - she would have sounded like a right hypocrite when she inevitably moaned during her attempt at protest.

"don't ya say a word, darlin'. just stay sittin' pretty for me, hmm?" his voice is so rough that it's almost mean, but she nods obediently, letting him work his way down her body. she gasps as his tongue darts out and flicks once at the elastic of her underwear, body jittering in anticipation and needs.

"Murphy, come in." the crackle of his police radio snaps them both from their pleasure, and the both whip their heads to look at it. steve looks like he wants to murder something, blue balls making his muscles twitch. when he goes to ignore it and continue enjoying his lovely company, he has to resist the urge to shoot his partner when brady speaks again, "come in, murph, he gave us a lead on the supplier. they want us on it, now." steve thinks maybe he should finally get into that meditation bullshit.

he slams the car door shut as he gets out of the backseat, leg bouncing in annoyance and need. he lights a cigarette, before picking up the radio. "brady, I hear ya. we'll be there in 10." he clambers back into the car, slowly driving out of the alleyway, tapping on the steering wheel, antsy. realizing he's still taking her to the station, she exclaims an incredulous 'what?!'

"wait, but you said-"

"no one's gonna know about yer fuckin' drugs." he snaps, a scowl on his face. he glances at her nude body only lightly contoured with the scrappy fabric of her dress. he throws his jacket back her to cover herself up.

"then why am I coming with you?" she asks in a soft voice, more reserved and less emotional.

"you're gonna sit in my office, and wait till I get back from that bust, ya got that darlin'?" her eyes widen in shock, but the harsh look in his eyes tells her not to argue. the pulse in her core also reminds her of it.

"yes, officer." she mumbles.

"good girl."

[joelsmochi]

Dirty Work - Javier Peña

Part 2 to Desperation

i really just needed an excuse to use this gif red is def his color

Warnings: possible ooc Javi, smut [minors dni beyond this point], first person POV [Jackie with the big boobiez], also ofc Jackie (she's poc ! i more than likely won't specify her ethnicity so feel free to read as a self-insert), lazy proofreading

Smut warnings: not nearly as filthy as the last one, but still a lil dirty, public (?) sex [it’s in an office y’all], risk of getting caught, strip tease (? eh), SQUIRTING HEHE (pedro’s javi has a squirt kink from last time), overstimulation, slight pain+crying from overstimulation (consensual i promise!), basically brief masochism, worried!Javi, gentle!Javi, tummy bulge, this is basically like…mainstream porn, please proceed with caution, FLUFF at the end they like each other :o

wc: 3.5k (much shorter :( lo siento)

I walk through the halls of the quiet building, the smell of cigarettes and various colognes filling my nostrils. I haven’t seen Javier in a few weeks but we’ve spent nearly every late night on the phone as if we were two lovesick teenagers still living with our parents. Javi wasn’t just some guy I fuck and never call again, he was intriguing and mysterious, but also a little easy to read. He’s funnier than one might imagine—corny, but funny.

I told him about the Ammazza restaurant a couple of nights ago and he had been dying to try some of their food so I decided to be nice enough to surprise him with dinner.

A few people tried to stop me from walking through but I just kept on walking until I saw a room with an open door. I figured it must be where his desk is considering how often he complained about never having enough privacy so I poked my head inside the door and spotted Murphy’s profile, quickly seeing Javi’s face right across from the blonde. I strutted in quickly, making their heads turn at the sound of my platform heels hitting the floor.

“Woah, woah, woah, woah—“ Murphy protested.

I just waved him off without even bothering to look at him. “Shut up, Murphy,” I said before leaning over to pop a kiss onto Javi’s lips and sitting on the edge of his desk. “I brought you some much-needed Ammazza since it sounded like you’d be here late.”

Javi seemed a bit shocked at my appearance but sends me a warm smile nonetheless. “Thank you, uh… How did you know where I worked?”

Shrugging I answered, “I was across the street walking Angie’s dog and I saw you guys come in… That was last week I think?”

“Oh, so you’re stalking me now?” He joked. I noticed him checking out the straps of my chunky heels, probably noting how their fuchsia color complimented my brown skin.

I chuckled. “You just have a hard time blending in.”

“I’ll take your insult as a compliment. What’d you bring me anyways?”

“I didn’t know what you liked so I got you a pizza, much better than back in the states.”

“Thank you, muchas gracias, but I gotta get back to work… I’ll call you later?” He asked.

I smirked at him eyeing my nipples through my white blouse and nodded. “Sure thing, suga’.”

He curled his fingers and tilted his head up a little bit. “Dame un beso,” he hoarsely whispered. I gave him another kiss, only this time our lips linger a little longer. I noticed the smell of cigarettes so I asked for two.

I pulled my red lipstick out of my purse and put some on; I could tell the men were exchanging weird looks but I ignored it and grabbed a pen to write my hotel name and room on one of the cigarettes before I placed a kiss on the cigarette butt and placed it back into his hand. I pecked his cheek to stain it before lighting my cig and leaving without having said another word.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ✮ ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

“Javi?” I called with a swift knock on the open door. “Javi, ¿donde estas?” I took a few extra steps into the room I had visited hours prior and looked around the empty desks. A hand from behind pulled me back out into the hallway and I yelped before being spun around and finding Javier’s eyes. “God, fucking—Jesus, Javier you can’t do that!”

Chuckling he wrapped his arms around my hips to give my ass a firm, slow squeeze, practically grinding his clothed dick against me. “Lo siento, mama,” he whispered against my chin.

I smiled, hovered my lips over his, and tangled my fingers through his work-messy hair. “Te perdono... Why’d you call me and ask me to come back, Javi?”

He tried to kiss me but I backed away, his grip on me causing me to hit the doorway. “Mm, you looked so sexy in those jeans earlier I couldn’t stay away from you another night.”

“You coulda just came to my room.” He picked me up and walked over to his desk after kicking the door shut, and sat me atop some papers in the open area.

“Maybe I wanted you to come to me as you did earlier,” he flirted. I raised daring eyebrows at him and played with the hair on his exposed chest. “How ‘bout we go somewhere a little more… Private?”

“Lead and I shall follow.” He helped me off of the desk and held my hand while I followed him to a nearby office with a door. He shut and locked the door behind me before sitting in the chair with his toned legs sprawled out. “Oh, is this the part where I just get on my knees and beg to suck you dry?” I stood in front of him and watched his eyes follow the lines of my jeans.

“You don’t have to beg sweetheart,” he said while shaking his head ‘no’. After bending over I slowly undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt.

“You wanted me to come crawling back to you, you said?”

“Maybe… That a problem?”

I hummed and ran my cool hands over his sweat-covered chest. “No.” I walked a few feet away, turning my back to him. “You sure nobody else is here? Hmm?” I asked while facing him again.

“Yeah,” he mumbled.

I smirked down at him and unbuttoned my jeans, cheeks flushing at the sight of his jeans tightening around his dick. I untucked my shirt and undid a few buttons at the top, enough to reveal just above my nipples. I turned my back towards him again and bend over as I pulled my tight jeans down my legs. I heard him exhale deeply at the sight of me not having any panties on and still bent over I rubbed my middle fingers up and down my squished slit, shivering at the pressure. I balanced myself as I took my free hand to spread my left ass cheek so that he could see more of me. I jiggled my ass, giggling bashfully at how exposed I am; I stood up and stepped out of my jeans, remembering how he seemed to have liked my shoes earlier. Turning around I took off my blouse, let it slip from my fingers to the floor, and slowly walked to him before I sat on the desk and propped my legs onto his shoulder. He slid his hand up my bare skin, admiring my low eyes and smile.

“Jackie… Jackie, Jackie, Jackie…” He cooed. “Spread your legs for me?” I obeyed his request and propped my right leg on his other shoulder; he rolled his seat closer to me and kissed the goosebumps on my belly. I ruffled his hair a little bit which made him pull his head back to look at my nails. “Mm,” he cheerfully moaned, “Pink, yeah? Like your heels?” He rubbed my calf, leaned back to leave little pecks on my ankle above my heel straps, and darted his tongue out to lick up my entire leg until he got to my hot vulva. His hands gripped the sides of my thighs roughly as he chose not to wait any longer to get a proper taste. He moaned and practically melted into my skin. “You taste better than I remember,” he affirmed.

“Hmm, thank you,” I whispered, leaning back on my elbows. I watched his tongue work over my clit, trying to hollow my moans into breaths but failing miserably. My moans bounced off of the walls in the small room while his mewls fell onto my dripping lips. He buried his nose deeper into the flesh of my pussy and allowed me to close my legs around his head; I cried out his name, begging him to fuck me with his fingers. He just moaned and slowly slid one inside of me wanting to feel me convulse around him before sliding another one in, stretching me out so much with his fingers alone that it nearly burned. “God, you’re gonna make me come already,” I moaned.

“Need to make you squirt again,” he said close enough to my clit to make it vibrate. “That was so sexy…”

Giggling, I said, “Won’t I get—fuck, right there—I can’t get these papers wet?”

“Don’t mind ‘em, cariño, Cesar will live.”

Before I could even think to question him again he sucked my clit between his teeth gently and shamelessly rammed his curled fingers against my g-spot; my hands clamped around his curls and my knees tightened against his jaws. I felt a similar urge as I did that night in the car where I squirted all over his backseat. My eyes closed thinking about him ruthlessly fucking me in the puddles of my secretion was enough to… Well, make it happen again.

I let out the most obnoxiously high-pitched scream as my orgasm took over my body and mind. He pulls his head up, unable to take any more of the pressure my legs were causing; he rubbed my clit with all four of his fingers and pumped his other hand in and out of my pussy at a pace my orgasm couldn’t keep up with. He laughed and boasted once my squirt began to spill everywhere, some even splashed up onto my chin.

“Good fucking girl!” He boasts, not letting up on my body. “Good girl, baby, oh my goodness—“ He cut himself off by giving me a tender kiss. “Do you want me to stop?” He asked after I had finished squirting, but I feel some more build up inside of me so I shook my head and urged him to keep going even though my clit was beginning to swell from the overstimulation. I saw how hungry his eyes grew at the sight of me squirting all over him and wanted to keep it going. The possibility of getting caught made this that much more exhilarating. “Oh, I can feel you squeezing around my fingers… Mmm… M’gonna have to replace my fingers with my cock, how does that sound? Good? Good.”

Watching his slick lips talk me through my elongated orgasm had me speechless—no, practically fucking braindead. His cock replacing his thick fingers and his hand still doing laps along my tender bud was enough to get me going again. This time it started out little, he didn’t even notice it at first and I thought my squirting session was coming to an end, but the numbness of my urethra turned out to be an indicator of another orgasm. As I said, it started out small but ended up much more explosive and messier than the first time. I didn’t feel a single bit of it even as it was coming out, soaking my and Javi’s face in the wetness. He rubbed even harder, almost as if to take out his frustration of it getting all over him.

After a few seconds, I had to use all the strength I could muster to push his hand and body away from me, my moans turned to gasps of agony and my already wet face being soaked in tears. I laid flat on the desk and took a moment to myself, jumping at his hands touching my thigh.

“You okay?” He asked softly after pressing his chest to mine. He kissed my collarbone sweetly and asked, “Was I too rough?”

I rubbed my palm against the side of his face and breathed in a few more times. “I just need a few minutes.” It was true. I loved the way he could effortlessly yet effectively get my body to do the things he wanted even with the slightest touch. I opened my eyes and grinned up at him. “Maybe just be a little gentle now?” He kissed me sorrily a few times. “You can do what you want, just ease up, okay? I loved it,” I reassure, “I love how you can push me to my limits. I just need some softness for a bit, that’s all…” He kept giving me a guilty look, not understanding that I admired him so much more than before. I loved being controlled and used during sex and getting to the point of cumming so hard I shed tears was a new turn-on for me. I kissed his sorrow-filled face and guided our bodies so that we were upright again. “Here,” I whispered; without breaking eye contact I lined his semi-hard cock up with my entrance again, tugging at his hips to inch inside of me. “See? I’m okay, that’s okay.”

He lifted his hands up to my face to place a kiss on my forehead. “Does it hurt?” He asked, pumping only halfway into me.

I shook my head and danced my fingertips over his back. “Shh, sh sh…” I brought him down to kiss me and guided him to fill me back up. “You feel how wet you made me?”

“Yeah?” His breath was shaky and his upper body trembled in my grasp.

“I loved it, I love the pain and the way you use me,” I said in the sense of begging him to forgive himself.

“Yeah?” He whimpered. “You promise?” His slow pumps gave my body time to relax around him. I wrapped my legs around his waist and lifted one of my nipples into my mouth, mewling out a ‘yes’. He cursed at the sight of me, droplets of my squirt still dripping from my hair onto my shoulders. I squirmed at his tip curving to my cervix, surprised (but thankful) that it didn’t hurt. I went to watch his length pump in and out of me but was surprised to find the bulge in my tummy spring up upon his entry into me. He noticed it too, I watched as his eyes widened and he quickly started to worry again.

“Come here,” I ushered before he could even get a word out. I pulled him to lay on me and gasped at how much deeper he seemed to reach. He couldn’t hold his pleasure in any longer. He adjusted us so that his knees were on the desk and my head was hanging off; on his knees above me, and forced my hips up to level with his and he sped his pace up just a little. I pleaded for him to keep going, tantalized by his whimpers and grunts. He shoved his arms under and around my waist to pull me in closer as his thrusts had gotten sloppier. “You’re s’close already,” I said when I felt his shaft throb inside of me.

He kissed me in response and paused for a moment to prop one of my legs on his shoulder; he started pounding inside of me forcing a few yelps to come out whenever he hit my pelvis with his. The desk creaked loudly and sounded as if it were on the verge of collapsing, but that didn’t stop him. After a while his pounding turned into short but fast thrusts, only allowing the base of his shaft to move in and out of me. I screamed his name and clawed at the papers on the desk letting a few books fall off whenever my flailing arms bumped into them. I cupped his face, moaning at his constant rubbing against my sweet spot.

“Oh, baby, you look so pretty like this,” he said.

Before I could give him some more dirty talk the sound of the other door slamming shut caused both Javi and me to freeze. I covered my grimacing mouth and sat up after he pulled out to tiptoe to the door. I didn’t hear what was said, but I could tell there were at least two men in the bigger room yet I am unable to move in the slightest bit. Javi turned the light off as quietly as the switch would allow and I prayed that neither of the men were looking at the opaque glass on the door. The further door being heard slamming shut again made Javi look outside, scanning the room.

“Be right back,” he whispered while pulling his jeans up and grabbing his gun.

Freaking out I tried to stop him. “No, no, Javi, please don’t leave me alone!” I whispered harshly.

Hey, I said possibly getting caught was a turn-on. Not nearly getting caught.

“It’ll be for two seconds, cariño, okay? I promise I’ll be right back.” He kissed my forehead, and left, but kept his promise. He was gone for maybe 45 seconds before he walked back in and shut the door. “We’re okay… Um… Do you want to stop?” He asked after standing in front of me.

I rolled my eyes and smirked, pulling him in for a kiss. My heart still pounding from the quick scare caused me to shiver in his arms but I ignored it and undid his pants again. “I want you to fucking hurry up and cum inside of me before we actually get fucking caught,” I urged, turning around on the desk into doggy position and not letting any more time slip away by putting his cock back inside of me.

“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckles, “it won’t take long.” He gave my ass a light but loud spank, tugging at the ends of my hair with his free hand. He pulled me back by my hair to meet him halfway on his dick, moaning out a loud, “Fuck, your ass is amazing.” He planted a kiss on my spine and dug himself into my overflowing pool of discharge and precum. It took him no longer than a few minutes of listening to my whines from how my pussy was aching for his cum for him to get close again. “You feel so fucking amazing,” he breathed onto my back, giving it a love bite.

“Javi, I can’t wait anymore…” I begged, “Please fill me up.” His hand wrapped around the front of my neck at my words, and he began to let his warm cum pour inside of me. “You’re so good to me, Daddy.” He shoved himself deeper inside of me to give me his last few drops.

“I’m good to you?” He tiredly asked.

I turned back around after he pulled out and gave him a sloppy smooch; he fixed my hair and grinned at me. “You’re so good to me.”

“Sorry about earli—“

I placed a finger on his lips and shushed him. “I’m fine, really.”

“Promise me again,” he insisted.

“Javier Peña, prometo… Que me encantó… There, does me saying it in Spanish make you believe me?” I laughed at his sleepy state.

“Actually, yeah.” He kissed me again and again and again until I felt his cum starting to drip out of me. “Here…” He grabbed my jeans and helped me into them carefully, picking me up off the piss-soaked and messy desk; he zipped and buttoned my pants for me before grabbing my shirt. “You should wear this on our date,” he nonchalantly mentioned.

I scoff up at him and start to close the blouse. “Excuse me, Agent Peña, I don’t believe you asked me properly.”

Blushing he finished dressing and quickly threw me over his shoulder earning a quick yelp from me. He walked out of the room to his desk and began gathering his things with his other hand. “Pretty girl, will you do me the honor of gracing me with your presence over a lovely dinner at Romas?” Laughing, I said yes to his proper offer which rewarded me with a slap on my ass as we began to leave the building. “Atta girl!” Once we arrived at his car he sets me on my feet and asked, “Need a ride?”

“Mhm… I walked because it’s not too far from me.” He opened the passenger door for me so I gave him one more kiss before climbing in. He turns one of his scanners off and lights a cigarette for us to split on the short drive to my hotel. “Javi?”

“Hmm?”

“Why did you wanna fuck in the Cesar guy's office?”

He choked on a laugh. “He gave me some bullshit tip which ruined my progress… Why?”

“I feel bad,” I admitted. “We could have at least cleaned it up a little… I mean I did piss everywhere.”

Shrugging he said, “If you met him you’d know why it didn’t matter.”

“I’m gonna trust you on that,” I said. “How was your pizza?”

He glanced over at me and nodded happily. “Oh it was great, thank you. Are you hungry? You told me once you always eat dinner late.”

I mantled at the small detail he remembered, firmly nodding my head. “They have good food at the hotel… Why don’t you stay over tonight?”

[murdrdocs]

soleless | e. munson

description. you buy eddie a new pair of dr martens. his way of breaking them in isn’t very traditional.

includes. SMUT 16+ boot riding ,, like that’s the whole thing, pet names, dom!eddie, eddie smokes cigs, dumbification, spit i think, sub!reader, AFAB!reader with a vag and boobs

a/n: i wrote this in june for someone else who is way more aggressive so eddie is a little bit ooc but not too much.

word count: 1.4k+

The sole of Eddie’s Dr. Martens pressed against your cunt, most of the weight being centered right where your clothed clit was.

Glaring down at you over his nose with fascination, he watched as your breath hitched, fingers curling in the picnic fabric of your green babydoll dress as you waited in anticipation.

Eddie slowly rotates his foot in a small circle over your clit and your jaw drops, nostrils flaring as you suddenly struggle to properly breathe.

The smirk he gives you at your reaction makes your body heat up, your gaze dropping in embarrassment.

But Eddie was having none of it, instantly barking orders at you. “Look at me.” He says, voice soft but stern and leaving absolutely no room for argument.

You do as told, gaze flicking up to meet him almost instantly, an ashamed ‘sorry’ leaving your lips.

Eddie tuts and he leans down, the rough pads of his fingers circling around your jaw and forcing your head up. He stares at you for a second, the sole of his boot still moving against your cunt. Your abdomen is flexing beneath you, breaths already picking up in its pace all while you stare into Eddie’s unyielding eyes.

“Please,” You beg without even knowing what it is you’re begging for.

Eddie calls you out on this. “‘Please’?” He mocks, that same condescending smile on his pink lips. “‘Please’ what? Do you even know what you’re begging for? You don’t, do you?”

You’re quick to shake your head, knowing that there is no point in lying to Eddie.

The movement of his foot stops and you have to hold yourself back from whining by pressing your lips together, making sure any sound that dares to come out of you is forced to be muffled.

“Tell you what,” Eddie begins, pausing when he drags his thumb over your lips, encouraging you to let them go. He presses his lips to yours, giving you a sloppy, wet kiss. You welcome it, the same way you welcome his thumb in your mouth, pressing your tongue down and then slipping the digit out only to replace it with a glob of his spit. You don’t have to be told to close your mouth, nor do you have to be told to swallow.

Eddie continues as if the moment never happened. “If you want it so bad, you can take it.” You sit silent and confused, looking down at your cunt to watch Eddie remove the sole of his shoe from your panties and instead place it on the floor.

“What do y–” You’re close to asking, looking back up at Eddie. But then he jerks his head down once, in the direction of his boot, and it suddenly clicks in your head.

You hesitate, taking a deep breath before shuffling forward until you’re hovering over the shoe.

Just when you’re about to begin, Eddie interrupts. “Uh uh,” He says, fingers pinching the fabric of your dress, before curling up towards the ceiling. “Off.” Is all he says.

As if his words control them, your hands find the flipped up hem of your dress and you pull it over your head in one quick, fluid, motion. He gives you an appreciative smile when he looks down to be greeted with nothing other than your bare, perfect tits.

You sink down onto Eddie’s boot, instantly sighing at the new angle. You shuffle for a second, trying to find the best spot for your focus to be on. Then, you find it, your hips beginning to circle and tug back and forth, delivering the utmost pleasure onto yourself.

“There you go,” Eddie encourages from above you, the flicker of his lighter dull behind his words. You glance up, jaw dropped and eyes dazed as you watch him light up another cigarette. You don’t notice that with your diverted attention, your hips have begun to stall, but Eddie does.

“Keep going, sweetheart.” He says, dragging out the words as if you wouldn’t be able to understand them otherwise. Which, most likely would have been true with your little fucked out brain barely doing any thinking inside your head.

Your hands find the black denim of Eddie’s jeans, arms wrapping around them and your head resting on his lower thigh. You refocus, finding that spot again and letting your subconscious work your hips. Low, soft moans come from your open lips, drool beginning to make a spot on Eddie’s jeans.

“Aw, would you look at that,” Eddie says from above you through a chuckle. “Already making such a mess.” One of his hands comes down to stroke your head and you lean into it, leaning your head back to look up at him again.

“How you feeling?” He asks, hand cradling your cheek. You’re unable to respond, and Eddie brings his hand back, tapping his forefingers against your cheek to alert you.

And it works, an immediate “so good” falling from your lips.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, taking a drag from his cigarette before leaning his top half down slightly to place the stick between your opened mouth. You struggle to wrap your lips around it, but with Eddie’s slight encouragement, you’re able to. You take a singular puff, not being able to do more as your hips glide across the leather of Eddie’s boots just right and a moan rips from your throat instead.

“You like these boots, pretty girl?” You nod, head down as you look at the way your cunt is moving against the shoe.

“Like ‘em a lot, Eddie.” You assure. “D’you like them?” You ask, sincere even though your head is thrown back, your eyes are closed and your hips are speeding up.

“I like ‘em, baby. And I like how pretty you look on them.” His compliment draws a moan out of you, coming from the lower part of your stomach which is beginning to tighten.

“You close?” Eddie asks before taking another drag. You nod.

Selfishly, the leather of Eddie’s boot slips out from under you, bringing you to desperately thud against the floor. Your eyes open in shock, pleading orbs instantly finding his teasing, sadistic ones.

“Wait, no, Eddie, please.” He smiles, showing all of his teeth behind the white of the cigarette.

You’re sitting on your ass, legs pulled up beside you at the knee, still spread as you gear yourself up for loads of begging.

But it’s not necessary because Eddie is already bringing his foot back in its original position, sole pressed against your cunt.

You moan, high pitched and throaty as your body brings you to lay down, legs spread as wide as they can go to accommodate Eddie’s boot.

“There you go,” Eddie coos, his foot moving at the same pace that your hips were. “You can let go, darling.” You nod, core tightening and jaw falling and eyebrows pushed together so hard that they hurt and your back arches and you’re spasming.

Eddie is cruel with you at your peak, not letting up on his movements one bit until your pussy hurts. You’re nearly crying, hands finding the shaft of his boot and trying to force it away from you. But Eddie’s stronger than you, and your muscles are so weak from one orgasm, that your push is barely there.

“I think you can do one more, sweetheart.” He says, and even though you shake your head, Eddie proves to be right in the end. Because all it takes is a few more pitiful, quick, harsh circles of his foot against your abused cunt and your back is arching off of the floor, muscles along your spine hurting from the position, scalp burning as it rubs against the floor.

Finally, he lets go, leaving you to ride through the aftershocks alone on the floor, legs shaking and body twitching every so often with large breaths leaving your lungs periodically.

When you’re recovered enough to sit up on your ass, Eddie leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead. His hands reach under your still vibrating thighs and he lifts you up with a small grunt, setting you down in his bed still in your wet panties.

He kisses your lips, and the side of your neck, and between your collarbones, and finally, each of your nipples. And then lifts his head to peek up at you with a sweet smile.

“Thanks for the gift, baby.” You don’t know if he means the shoes, or the show, but you lazily smile anyway.

“Of course.”

[glystenangel]

can i request a yuji x megumi fic inspired by Strawberries & Cigarettes - Troye Sivan pls🥹? megumi being the one coming up to yuji asking to light his cig? fluff, romance, PG, no curses

Strawberries & Cigarettes🍓🚬

Strawberry!Yuji Itadori x Cigarette!Megumi Fushigurou

summary/tags/warnings: everything in the ask, yuji and gumi are hs seniors (so 18), slightly ooc bc i am a firm believer that gumi inherited some suaveness from toji, also megumi has green eyes here bc i like his manga color palette better, short and sweet, kissing, also most of what's mentioned in the song bc i luv that song too, smoking obvs

thank you for requesting and i hope u enjoy<333

_________________

“Hey, you got a light?”

At first, Yuji doesn’t think he heard that right.

“Me?” He points at himself, and the mysterious, raven haired boy in front of him nods.

Yuji had been in his usual thinking spot at the park, the swing set, when he heard the crunch of boot soles on the sand in front of him.

Now, this boy is standing here. He looks to be the same age as Yuji, and the uniform he has on is a pair of crisp navy blue pants with an untucked white button up. He seems a bit taller than Yuji, but it could be because of the slimness of his features. The point of his nose is sharpened at the end of a high nose bridge, and the planes of his pale cheeks and jawline have a delicate edge to them. He also has a sullen yet sharp look to his face, dark and messy locks of hair with matching lengthy eyelashes to frame unreadable green eyes. 

Whoever he is, Yuji can only describe the stranger as very pretty.

Suddenly, it might be best to stop staring.

He pretends to search his pockets, and then offers up an apologetic smile, “I’m sorry. I actually don’t smoke.”

The boy looks down at him with no emotion, and Yuji is taken aback yet again by how his eyelashes fan over his cheeks.

He really is one of the most beautiful people Yuji has ever seen.

“Oh, that’s alright. I’ll just go to the convenience store then.”

“Okay.” Yuji says dumbly, unsure of how to respond to that.

The boy walks off without another word, and Yuji watches him go until the top of his head ducks into the convenience store across the street. 

After a few minutes of confused silence, Yuji is surprised to see him return and sit down in the swing next to him. 

He lights his cigarette with a practiced flick of his fingers, and then turns to Yuji after taking a long drag.

“So,” Tendrils of gray smoke curl around the striking verdant color of his eyes, “What’s your name?”

Yuji hadn’t expected him to come back, let alone converse with him.

He blinks, and then smiles while sheepishly rubbing the backside of his undercut, “Uh, it’s Yuji! Yuji Itadori.”

Delicately balancing the cigarette between his lips, the boy holds out his hand, “Megumi Fushigurou.”

Yuji takes it, trying to ignore the heat creeping up behind his neck from the brief clasp of palms, “Where do you go to school?” 

“The high school on the west end of town. I’m a senior.” Megumi juts his head sideways, tapping ash onto the playground sand.

“Ah, okay. Me too! I go to the one over there though.” Yuji points, and Megumi’s eyes flit towards the distant red bricked building at the tip of Yuji’s finger.

“Cool.”

Yuji nods in agreement, and then decides to blurt out a question before the lull in conversation can get too awkward.

“So, why do you come to this park? It’s a bit far.”

“It’s my smoking spot. I used to live in this part of town. Old habits die hard, I guess.” The corner of Megumi’s lip slightly curls up, and then he gestures to Yuji with the end of his cigarette, “You?”

“I just moved here a month ago. I figured this would be a good thinking spot.” He runs a hand through the petal hues of his hair, hoping Megumi doesn't find him stupid for whatever reason.

That’s when Megumi fully grins, and Yuji can’t help but notice how much that small shift in expression makes his heart pound.

“Great minds think alike, don’t they?”

Yuji swallows at the amusement in Megumi’s voice and gathered in the corners of his mouth. How the sun seems to flock to his smile and the spark of happiness in his eyes.

Somehow, he manages to answer.

“Right.”

“So,” Megumi pushes the swing back with his heels, “What exactly do you think about here?”

_________________

As time passes, Yuji keeps staying at the park later and later just to talk with Megumi. 

He finds out his birthday is December 22nd, that he has 2 pet dogs, and that he likes to read. Nonfiction, specifically.

There seems to be a lot to find out about Megumi’s habits too.

Yuji notices that he always closes his eyes when he lights his cigarette, able to sense the end of it and the warmth of the flame. When he talks about something he’s really excited about he instinctively looks to the ground, as if he wants the Earth to listen to his passionate exclamations and see the soft joy in his beam. Whenever Yuji buys sugary snacks for them to share, Megumi will insist he doesn’t like sweets, but always picks out the strawberry flavored pieces to eat.

Sometimes, Yuji wonders if Megumi notices similar things about himself. If he piques Megumi’s interest more than the light brush of their cheeks every time they embrace in greeting or when they both laugh way too hard at the stories they tell each other, bonding over rare high school triumphs and pesky lows.

In the quiet lulls throughout his day to day routine, he wonders if Megumi could like him.

Tonight, that train of thought seems to haunt Yuji as they’re pointing out constellations above their heads and avoiding the dim street lights bordering the park by sitting in the grass.

“That cluster looks like a bear.” The stars speckle the emerald in Megumi’s eyes, and Yuji has a hard time tearing his gaze away long enough to acknowledge the celestial formation Megumi is pointing at.

“It totally does! That one kind of looks like two people kissing. Gross.” Yuji gently pushes Megumi’s elbow to another spot in the sky, and Megumi tilts his head as his elbow relaxes against the subtle touch.

“I think it’s nice.” He seems to consider the blanket of stars before him for a moment, “Two people or two boys?”

Megumi lowers his hand, turning to face the utter shock forcing Yuji’s jaw open before he snaps it shut with a nervous bite.

A long silence peppered with the chirp of crickets stretches between them, and Megumi is still staring at Yuji.

He can practically feel the weight of it as Megumi observes the way Yuji stiffens in his seat, all patience and expectations.

Yuji runs the palm of his hand over his mouth and then behind his neck, “Uh-”

“Hey! Curfew ended an hour ago, you boys need to come with me.” 

The pair quickly jolt up as a patrol officer walks towards them while wagging a chastising finger, and Yuji gives Megumi a quick glance before grabbing his hand.

“Come on, run!”

He tugs the stunned boy along, adrenaline rushing heat to his skin, especially once Megumi seems to register the instruction and intertwines his fingers with Yuji’s as they pick up speed.

“You kids are in big trouble!” The policeman pants, trying to catch up with them and the static of his radio clicking on.

“Where should we go?” Yuji yells, constantly checking his pace so Megumi doesn’t fall behind.

“Over here!” Megumi shoves Yuji into an alleyway, and the chainlink spread across its middle almost knocks the breath out of him.

“Shit, there’s a fence.” The dark haired boy groans, and Yuji wastes no time chucking his backpack over.

“Come on, we gotta jump it!” Yuji hops up the barrier and clambers over, reaching a hand down to help Megumi and hauling him onto the other side.

Once they’re safely away from the fence, the rushed footsteps of their pursuer race right past their hiding spot, but even then Megumi keeps a finger to his lips as he and Yuji head to the end of the alley. The narrow space opens up behind a bustling cafe, where the distant call of orders and the clang of kitchen utensils offer enough cover to ease their shared panic.

“I think we lost him.”

Before he can help it, Yuji doubles over with laughter at Megumi’s declaration.

“That was a close one!”

“Too close.” Megumi chuckles, breathlessness lacing the rare sound, “That was crazy.”

He takes out a half full box of cigarettes and his lighter out of his pocket, and Yuji springs at the chance.

“Here,” He slides the lighter out of the other boy’s hand and flicks it on, “I got it.”

Megumi gives him an unreadable look, but then automatically closes his eyes and leans towards the lighter being held between them.

Even though the flame is small, it fans over the fine expanse of Megumi’s face, etching dark orange shadow and smoothing light into every defined feature. His cupid’s bow pokes out a bit more when a cigarette rests between his lips, and the glow of fire makes the shape of it nearly irresistible.

Yuji can’t look away, even when Megumi appears to sense him looking and opens his eyes.

Pretty doesn’t even begin to describe Megumi anymore.

The flame disappears with a shaky drop of Yuji’s hand, “Sorry-”

He isn’t sure why he’s apologizing, he just feels like an idiot.

Silence and darkness hang the apology in the air, and Yuji can tell Megumi is inhaling from the dot of burnt scarlet floating in front of his nose.

Blue moonlight is dousing his shoulders and sinking into the midnight ink of his hair.

It’s beautiful.

A few more drags, and then Megumi crushes the embers beneath his shoe.

Yuji feels the pure scrutiny of his stare as Megumi takes his face in his hands and soothes his thumbs back and forth over the olive toned skin just beneath his cheekbones.

His heart is pounding in his chest, and he imagines that it's racing at nothing less than a rate of 60 miles per hour.

Then, Megumi inches even closer, eyes focused and staring only at Yuji’s parted lips.

He can already feel the kiss coming.

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

With that sweet reassurance, Yuji melts into the subsequent kiss Megumi carefully presses to his lips.

Immediately, he tastes sugar and smoke rings. 

Like every long night and daydream he spent thinking about Megumi, it left Yuji wanting to kiss him forever.

_________________

Later that night, Megumi drives Yuji home and they hold hands as they make their way to his front door.

“I like you.” Yuji says, grinning at the way the tips of Megumi’s ears darken with blush.

Even flustered, he manages an endearing, “I like you too.”

The rest of their walk is quiet with newfound bliss,  but once they make it to their destination, Megumi shyly runs his thumb over Yuji’s knuckles.

Yuji smiles at the motion, because Megumi’s flingers are thinner than his and he finds the size difference in their hands too cute for words.

“Is it alright if we kiss again?” Megumi asks, and Yuji nods with butterflies filling his stomach.

“Really? I just smoked, you don’t mind it? I should’ve asked earlier.”

He looks imploringly into the bright copper of Yuji’s eyes, and Yuji shakes his head before running a thumb over the swell of Megumi’s bottom lip.

“I like it. You taste like strawberries and cigarettes.”

_________________

End Notes:

this was cuteeee! thank you for requesting💗❤

I rarely write bl but i do like how this one turned out :) hope you like ty again!!

[morbiderotica]

would love to request a fic with just grocery shopping with matt and mello!

★ CHOCOLATE & CIGS ─ gn!reader

#WARNINGS ─ mello is happy for once so ooc, cute fluff

#SUMMARY ─ "the store was almost silent. silent, apart from the two idiots in front of you." don't take two idiots to a public place.

the store was almost silent. silent, apart from the two idiots in front of you. "jesus christ matt, don't do that!" you scolded in a whisper as matt stood on the cart and pushed it like a scooter, almost crashing into one of the isles. he and mello laughed as you rolled your eyes, silently picking up a bag of chips and throwing them into the cart. "i don't want those." matt whined and you shot him an annoyed look. "you didn't let me finish," he smiled nervously to appease you. "i don't want those but, I'll eat them anyway."

mello laughed at matt's semi-scared expression, throwing another bag of chips into the cart, that he knew matt would like, when you were turned around. as the three of you continued down the aisle, you saw a store employee staring at you disapprovingly. mello and matt had found humor in your reaction, as you quickly grabbed the last few items you needed in that aisle.

the next aisle was no different, with matt and mello playfully trudging behind you. "you are both children, you know that?" you tried to contain your laugh as matt's antics caused the cart to knock mello out of balance, the shelf catching his fall. you couldn't help but roll your eyes as mello and matt started arguing. in a way it was nice though, having a break from the seriousness that always overtook mello and the chainsmoking that always overtook matt.

your shopping trip was finally coming to an end as you guys made it to the checkout line, all of your items loaded onto the conveyor belt. as you waited for your turn, you couldn't help but glance over at matt and mello, who were still laughing and playfully shoving each other. their laughter alone was enough to put a smile on your face and, of course, mello being the observant asshole he is, pointed it out to matt.

"aww, you love us." matt hugged you from behind, gradually turning it into a headlock with a hand messing up your hair. "can you not?" you groaned as you pushed him off you but his smile was still evident. "you love us. you love us." his voice rang in a sing-song tone and once again, you roll your eyes. "unfortunately." you laughed softly and matt gasped loudly.

it was mello's turn now to put you in a headlock, biting the top of your head gently. "ow, gross." you said but didn't make an effort to stop him, knowing if you did, matt would just take his place. "you love that you love us." mello smiled as he put a bar of chocolate and a pack of cigarettes on the conveyer belt. "addicts." you scoffed, but really you wouldn't have it any other way.

© 2023 MORBIDEROTICA

[talentforlying]

time to get pissed about the fact that constantine's father's hatred for and dismissal of him extends all the way down to his fucking name.

like yeah, john is a fine & normal name. he doesn't have any strong feelings about it and neither does anyone else. but john's mother wanted him, loved him, and iirc might have already had a name picked out for him before she died. (his older sister was named cheryl, which wasn't even in the TOP 100 most common UK girl names at the time, so there was a precedent for putting a lot of thought into naming her kids!!) and then she dies, and thomas just. doesn't. care. john, number one most common UK baby name for the four preceding decades. like john smith. like john fucking doe.

how it must feel to him when people say that name with actual affection instead of rage. how rare that is in his line of work. how different it must sound when he's wanted.

[that-alcoholic-stone]

There were the pattering of foot steps and the barking of dogs and the sounds of people yelling not too far off. Someone was just outside Stone, Skipp, and Vinnie's lil area, breathing hard. "Bloody fu*ckin' twats s'always ruinin' my meals..." It was a girl around their age, disheveled and tired, holding a can of beans, a bottle of bourbon, and something similar to a cig pack. Her hair was fluffy and black with a dark purple hue to it, wearing a green jacket, white shirt, a pair of dog tags, a red bandana, a red beanie. Semi-baggy pants with a pair of boots. (OOC: rp req! Stone and the gang meets a new scrap, Allay!)

((ooc: As I am a stone rp account, I won't be really controlling the others out of this. Rps like this are allowed for that, but other times I will not respond as Vinnie or Skipp. Or any of my ocs.))

Stone looks over, seeing the girl walking into the alley. He looks over at Vinnie, who is grabbing out her small knife just in case. Looking over at Skipp who is getting up to meet this girl.

"Classic skipp.." Stone says under his breath, taking out his alcohol, and taking a swig.

[sanctamater]

amelia chainsmokes like no other but i just know shes giving bas liz shit for smoking 💀

[genetic-gamble]

I’m Ace. That’s it that’s the post. 

[naraven]

Marlboro and a Can of Arizona Ice Tea

hi so. this came to me in a vision

this is all platonic/familial btw! reader can be read as around 22-23 ish and haitham is in his late 20s, early 30s and sometimes people don't really like that kind of age gap plus i think alhaitham as a tired dad figure is way funnier somehow

this is pretty ooc!! not in the way he talks but like i lwk don't think he would act like this LOL to me these two are the family ever

tw / alcohol but its brief in the beginning, addiction to nicotine and specifically smoking, talk about reader gaining weight as a symptom of withdrawal, and general symptoms of addiction that might be triggering so please be wary!

wc / 2.1k

also this sounds really obvious but i don't condone smoking!!! i believe anyone and everyone is capable of quitting and living the best life they can without nicotine.

You need help.

Serious help? Maybe not at this point, but you can certainly see yourself in some deep shit pretty soon.

And it all started when you graduated.

Your brand new degree was fresh and crisp. You celebrate with all your friends, glad that you all somehow survived the four years up to that point. You screamed your head off when you partied later that night, alcohol basically coating your entire insides. Your liver would probably murder you before dying.

That was when you took your first cigarette.

Nowadays, it seemed that vapes and e-cigs were all the rage. You could honestly give less than half a shit. And really, you don't even remember who offered it to you. The white stick somehow ended up between your fingers and an outstretched hand with a lighter lit it up for you.

You took a drag, and coughed up violently. It tasted like filthy waste, smoke clouding your throat and building up in your lungs. Clouds of gray puffed out of your mouth with each heavy heave.

Somehow, you ended up burning through the entire stick. After the first initial puff, you went in for another because that was just embarrassing. Soon enough, the yellow end was all that remained in your hand. It felt almost electrifying, fueled by adrenaline and nicotine running through your body. Basically, you felt high on life.

Not wanting to ruin the fun with a fire, you escaped to a less crowded area and found an ashtray filled with other finished cigarettes. Your own joined in the dozens of yellow ends sticking up into the air. 

And then after graduation, of course, came moving out. Luckily you had planned ahead during your finals week while procrastinating and found the perfect place to live: a semi-decent two room apartment with affordable rent. Basically, the best place for a soon to be master's student. Undergraduate dorming would no longer be viable for you.

Waitering part time has left you with a pretty good amount of money, too. It would, for now, be able to support your new apartment.

So begins the current day you. Tired, stressed, and chronic smoker.

Ever since that party, you went out and bought a pack of Marlboro from the liquor shop that was about a block away from your apartment. It was tiny and smelled too strongly of gasoline, but they had Marlboro and Arizona Ice Tea. That alone was a good enough excuse to visit every free weekend you had. Which just so happened to be every weekend.

You paid in cash, with the tips that you would get at the end of every week. You would just leave your wallet at home, fish out $15 in cash, and leave with your phone and keys. The bare necessities, because you were semi-scared of being robbed for some reason. 

You swear the cashier at the liquor store has something against you. Every time you hand him the bills in your pocket you swear he's glaring at you.

It's whatever. You get your tea and cigs, he gets your money. Simple as that. 

You tip him every once in a while. You bring an extra dollar to the usual $13.86 you pay and slip the single dollar into the small glass case labeled "tips: thank you for the generosity!"

You never speak to the cashier, either. You only started talking to him because the cigarettes were behind him. The first time he spoke was when he scanned your items silently as the scanner beeped, said "13.86," and didn't even say have a good day. But you know what, good for him. Working with tough customers, you can understand some of the stuff he goes through. 

After that he never speaks to you again. He gets used to seeing you walk in and grab a can of Arizona tea from the fridge. He already has a pack of Marlboro on the counter by the time you're there.

And so life went on. Life went on until 6 months later, when on a particular Saturday evening you speak up.

"Can I have another pack?"

The cashier's face remains the same. He turns to his left and reaches for another pack of Marlboro cigarettes.

"26.73."

You brought your wallet for today. You were too lazy to calculate how much you needed to bring. Future master's degree student, everyone. 

You dig out a 10 and 20 dollar bill. You take the two packs into your hand while he still counts your change.

"You know smoking kills, right?"

You almost jump at the sound of his voice. He never, ever spoke to you. His words also, oddly enough, offended you.

"You work here, I'm giving you more money. Do you say that to everyone who buys a pack from here?"

You raise a brow as he hands you your change. He starts talking again when you open the small pack.

"Today's the only day I work here. You're also the only regular I see."

"Damn, part time only on a single day? Your day job must be nice."

You curse under your breath when you realize your lighter ran out of fuel. You sheepishly look up at the cashier who simply sighs, already hitting the numbers on the cash register.

"3.63.”

~~~

About a month after that, you started a small conversation.

"I've decided that I'm going to reform. I'm buying a vape!"

You refrain from laughing at the grimace on the cashier's face. His teal-amber eyes scrutinize you and he remains speechless.

"Oh, c'mon. I heard these are like a healthier alternative."

You inspect the pod as the cashier pulls out a pamphlet from underneath the counter. As you read through it, he explains what it is.

"A whole 20 pack of cigarettes has the same amount of nicotine in a single vape pen. Where did you even get your information from?"

You look at the infographic carefully, not hearing his words very clearly.

"No shit? I had no clue. Well then, I'll see how this peach flavored pen tastes, otherwise it's back to the classic for me!"

“Not so fast. Here.”

Before you can leave, he stops you in your tracks. The cashier grabs something opposite of his side of the counter.

“On the house. Slow to melt candy is another way smokers quit.”

A wrapped piece of candy is placed in your palm. You unwrap it and suddenly you feel like a child again. Sweet sugar coats your mouth instead of smoke, and you can kind of get behind this.

“No shit? I’ll keep that in mind.”

~~~

A month later, he's the one that talks first.

"On the house."

He hands you a blue package. Upon reading the big white letters, you see it's a box of nicotine patches.

"Are you… serious?"

You mutter incredulously. There's no way he was being for real right now. Yeah, sure, the nicotine was getting pretty rough by now, but there’s no way you look that bad. Right?

"I'm not taking this. Have it back."

He blinks, staring at the box in your hands. You glare when he does nothing to try and grab it.

"If you're worried about paying for it, I already paid for it. Take it."

The fucking audacity of this guy… You instead slam the box on the counter, since he wasn't willing to take it back from you himself. You could quit anytime, you didn’t need his help in this.

"I said I don't fucking want it."

You leave the store. In your rage, you don't even realize that you left with only your tea in hand, Marlboro left on the counter along with the nicotine patches you very violently placed down.

And so you suffer throughout the week. The itch for a hit of nicotine is strong, but you don't have the time to go out and buy one. Final exams had you studying for hours at a time without much time for anything else. And when you go out to eat dinner with a couple friends to chill before final exams really start going, you struggle to think straight and accidentally snap at a friend. You immediately regret it and apologize but you are clearly not doing ok.

You avoid going to the liquor store too. Partially because of the one time someone offered you help you pushed them away and it felt awkward just walking back like nothing happened and partially because, of course, of exams.

You can't sleep, and that barely helps with your appetite. Never in your life had you ever felt so hungry all the time. When you stare at yourself in the mirror, you very much look heavier and unhealthier than ever.

Exams pass. You can't say you're very confident that you passed any of them.

So you trudge your way back to the usual place for a smoke. You cough the entire way there, almost gagging a couple times before finally arriving.

Despite the distance being the same, the walk there felt so much longer. You struggle to breath at a normal rate and the only thought in your mind is getting a lit cigarette in your mouth.

You can feel the familiar green-red eyes on your back. When you open the fridge to the Arizona tea do you finally turn to stare back at him. 

Neither of you say anything. When you get there, the usual pack waiting for you is gone.

"Please just take this."

Instead, the blue box of nicotine patches is there. Replacing the usual gold and white box is instead something that you know you should have used long ago.

"...Why do you care so much anyway?"

Your voice is hoarse, and you let out a particularly nasty cough. You wince when your throat burns at the surplus amount of coughing you've been doing.

"Because you look about the same age as my students, if not younger. Someone as young as you shouldn't be suffering from this."

He crosses his arms. You open the blue box and pull out a patch that looks like a sticker. You like stickers.

"For now, peel one off and put it on your bicep. It'll last for about 24 hours. I'll send a couple links about what you can do afterwards. There will be side effects. Hand me your phone."

In a daze, you slide your phone out of your back pocket and place it on his outstretched palm.

"This is a timer. You reset it everytime you relapse." The cashier shows you the app he laid out on your phone. Oddly enough, you feel rather comforted knowing he's doing all this.

"You are the only person who can reset it. If you relapse and decide not to restart the timer, no one will know. The only person holding you accountable is yourself. I will not scold you for relapsing. It is very difficult to overcome any kind of addiction." He places the phone back into your hand and slides the blue box of patches towards you.

Wow, you weren't even sure what to say back to that. So instead you stare at the dual colored eyes of the familiar cashier.

"... Y'know, for a liquor store cashier you care a lot about your customers. I'll rate you 5 stars on Yelp. 'The kind cashier sabotaged his own business for a pitiful customer like me.'"

He looks concerned, brows furrowing. You wonder if you said anything to offend him.

"I don't care about this place. In fact, if it shuts down then it's all the better for me."

You blink.

"Huh?"

"I'm only working here because I owed the manager of the store a favor. If this place closes down I can focus more on my job and get a promotion sooner."

A moment passes before you let huff out a laugh.

"No shit? Whatever you say."

You realize you don't know this man's name. You've known each other for almost a year and you never bothered to learn his name.

Wow, it's crazy to think that you moved into your apartment a year ago. The complex felt more homely, and you could relax at home without it feeling weird. You felt a sense of belonging in this tiny cramped liquor store. You walked to and from this place so often it was basically a second home.

"Just stay safe and healthy. That's all that you can do for me at the moment." 

His voice was so… warm. You try not to cry as you feel the weight of his tone.

"Right, whatever you say. Also, I never got your name, cashier guy. Care to tell me who my nic addiction savior is?"

Maybe you joked about your situation a bit too early. But the cashier only places the blue box into your hands, wrapping his hands around yours to curl over it.

"Call me Alhaitham. Just trying to help."

[kallikrein]

DEADLY SECRETS

— in which sano shinichiro leaves an impression.

genre. angst.

contains. gn!reader, manga spoilers, smoking, profanities, definitely ooc and bad as bollocks writing.

word count. 2.7k.

note. i really suck at titles. anyway, this is the shin angst i’ve been wanting to write. not that this is a new idea or anything. this also isn’t as painful as i would like it to be haha. hi, @mochi-coffee! 

Shinichiro had sat with people, listened to people, gave his own piece of advice to people, but never had he been the one to sit in their place talking about his problems.

“Shin, why do you smoke?”

That was a question he had heard a multiple of times. He didn’t look like one who would smoke, really. Many assumed it was purely because he wanted to look and act cool, but not once did he become honest to himself, or anyone for that matter, about his knowingly bad habit.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Was what he would reply usually. Because for him, isn’t it damn well obvious? He would smoke, of course, whenever he felt stressed; if he felt the need to inhale a drag and release it into the air as though it would help him loosen up before determinedly marching on to an imaginative war.

Wouldn’t that reason be as obvious as it gets?

“No, tell me.” You looked at him, curiosity sitting subtly in your expression, and in those awaiting gaze, he could slowly feel his defenses coming down like a layer of his skin was being peeled off one by one. He shied away, afraid there would be nothing left but the well-hidden vulnerable boy cowering underneath it all.

“If I told you, you would just make fun of me.” Brushing it off with a grunt, he bit the foamy end of his cigarette as he busy his hands by tinkering the greasy engine in front of him. “But you have to admit, I look cool, aren’t I?” He teased.

Although, before he could go on to a new topic — any topic at all that would seem interesting enough for you to leave him to his own antics, you sighed and pulled yourself up from sitting on your chair to sit beside him on the floor. “Then, do you mind if I take one?”

Shinichiro’s hand stilled from their movements, disinterested face warping into utter wariness, and the cig that was burning between his lips almost stung his skin. “What?” He finally squawked.

“Oh, shut up. As if I couldn’t do it.” With that, you snatched the stick from his mouth, pinching the end with your thumb and forefinger like a complete amateur. “I just have to inhale it, right?” You mumbled, “and my life is all gonna be fine.”

He watched you place the cigarette between your lips. The thing he was just puffing right there at the opening of your mouth, and he couldn’t stop gawking when you took a breath out of it — too captivated by the image of you looking directly at him as if you’re seizing his reaction to your smoking.

And he must admit, you looked absolutely sinful right then.

Once inhaled, you forgot to breathe it out and hacked out the remnants of the smoke from your throat. Tears started to build up at the corner of your eyes as you handed him back his tab.

“Idiot,” he laughed, pointing a finger to your cawing face. “You don’t do it like that.”

“Ack! That’s horrible, Shin!”

“I didn’t tell you to do it, though!”

“Yeah, but you didn’t stop me either!”

“I know I should have!” Still, even in his budding guilt, he was feeling too funny and amused that you would smoke just as you did. He didn’t smoke that well either when he first started, but you made it look so hypnotizing that he couldn’t push himself to berate you from doing it.

He looked back to the stick that was now in his hand, debating if he should man up and put it back in his lips, knowing it did touch your own. “Well, is your life all sunshines and rainbows now?” He asked.

You went silent on him, however, so he lifted his hand to put the cigarette back in its place all the while staring back at your eyes. As he took in the nicotine-filled smoke, your gaze stayed where they were, right back at his.

“How come you make it look so effortless?” You suddenly mused out loud.

“I’ve been smoking for years,” he shrugged.

“You still haven’t told me why you smoke in the first place.” Grumbling his way, Shinichiro knew there’s more to this than why you merely tried it. “Tell me, Shin.”

Your huge eyes felt urging, so he took another drag and then another while he pondered for an excusable reason aside from the well-concealed truth.

“Eh, I just felt like it,” he grinned after a moment of ponderance. There was the immediate scoff, accompanied with the rolling of eyes which compelled a chuckle out of him. He wondered out loud, “Why are you so curious, though?”

“Because I heard people do it whenever they feel sad.”

Those simple words hit him like a truck. He didn’t expect your reply to his query would be that. Anything but that. But honestly, he didn’t expect anything at all. He swallowed. “Is that so?”

It was just a few words strung together to make a statement. A foolish concept, really. Your opinion about smoking seemed childish yet valid, but all the more, it was that simple.

Yes, he admitted to himself. He was sad. Of all people, Sano Shinichiro was sad.

Chuckling without his heart on it, he put out the cig on his ashtray, and turned back to repairing the engine in front of him with even more intent. “That’s one good reason,” he acceded.

He sounded evasive, he knew. But he couldn’t let it be known to the world, much less to you, that he actually felt… sad.

Sad. Damn, what a word.

You wordlessly creeped even closer to him, laying your head on his shoulder in the process and deeply sighed. “I think they’re right. I’m feeling sad. That’s why I wanted to have one.”

“What happened?” His words came in a rush. A rapid bloom of protectiveness emerged from his own being as he looked down at your calm expression that seemed miserable just then.

You were definitely, frightfully close. He could simply lean down and take your lips with his if he only inched closer. You had your eyes wide open as you looked over the open bike in front of him, but there was a certain emptiness in them, as if your days had been really rough as of late.

“Why are you sad, Shin?” You asked him once more.

“So damn persistent,” he mumbled. Although, this could be the right time to be honest about it. No one was in his shop, a totally rare occurrence since it’s always packed with his former gang members, and usually Manjiro and Emma would play along the large space, giving him that warm homey feeling.

But alongside that cozy feeling came a surge of year-accumulated anger and frustration.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t want to be an older brother to Emma and Manjiro. No, very far from it. Shinichiro was grateful they were their siblings. He wouldn’t have it otherwise, and that was the absolute truth he would carry until his very last breath.

Emma was undeniably the most precious girl. She came to them, all meek and shy, but now she would never let Manjiro act all mighty around her. She now has the guts to chastise him even, particularly when he’s being rowdier than usual. She would also help her big brothers and grandfather by cleaning their rooms and cooking them meals, and Shinichiro felt his life become easier with that.

Manjiro. Good heavens, that little rascal. He’s a force of nature to begin with. His little brother looked up to him, saying he would beat his ass once he grew older, and that it would be him who’s the strongest Sano of all. It was adorable when he was younger. But, he’s still a kid who was very much growing up and thinks they’re eternally invincible, and Shinichiro was somehow afraid he wouldn’t be able to talk some sense to his ever so self-glorifying brother once he has a mind of his own.

And Izana, his non-blood related family. He took his time knowing him once he found out Emma had an older brother. He taught him his ways and he was adamantly good about it, and even though he was rejected for not speaking out the truth about their families, Shinichiro still treated and considered him like one of his own.

Hell, he even has an aspiring dream of Mikey and Izana inheriting his gang, Black Dragon.

That was how much he loved his family, and he wouldn’t change it any other way.

So, the real question, why in the goddamn world was he sad for?

“I guess I wanted to hate my parents.”

His wandering thoughts became words before he could fathom it. It left a bitter taste in his mouth as if the intricate sentence itself was a bile he shouldn’t puke out. Nevertheless, it was born now into his reality just as he had silently feared.

He swallowed back the build up of repulsive acid in his throat, refusing to show any vulnerability now because who was he to complain? This was the life that was given to him. As a young kid who lost both of his parents, it’s always been him — the eldest brother looking out for his younger siblings.

Not once did anyone ask how he was. Sure, there were his gang members. But Shinichiro separated the two before it could even crash and collide, and now it felt as if he had been living a dual life.

It has been so hard, and he was doing it all alone with a cheery smile on his face. He couldn’t be seen shedding a tear. As a man, that’s a sign of weakness. Even though he bawled his eyes out for every rejection he had, a tear born of his own helplessness wasn’t something he should flaunt since he’s known as the guy who has it all together.

To fuck with that notion.

“I guess I wanted to blame them for dying so early,” he followed with more conviction. “I wanted to blame them for leaving me the responsibility of a parent when I shouldn’t be in the first place.”

He suddenly felt you move away from his shoulder, and Shinichiro realized just then the horrible crudeness of his selfish words. Fuck, they’re gonna think I’m ungrateful.

He shouldn’t have said it. He shouldn’t have put life into those nasty thoughts that appeared as though he hated being a Sano after all this time.

But what he regretted the most was that he shouldn’t have thought about hating his parents in the first place.

His mother died of an illness. No one could avoid dying from a fatal ailment. Much less his father who died in an accident.

Shinichiro merely felt it was unfair.

He felt a warm touch settling on top of his larded hand. Your hand that had looked so small gave him a rush of relief, much like a silent admonition that what he felt was very much valid.

“You think I’m awful just about now, don’t you?”

“No,” came your quick response. Your disagreement was soft, tender; but enough for Shinichiro to give up those walls he built around himself, as futile as it was when he’s around you, and his throat closed up from the hot tears that started to well in his eyes.

“I’m sorry for feeling like this,” he croaked. His hands balled up into fists, to remind him he’s a man and a man doesn’t cry about his problems in front of the person he likes. And yet, your hold on his knuckles didn’t let go. “I’m sad because I feel like I’m still not enough. That I will never be enough. For them.”

“Oh, Shin, you’re more than what they needed.” You pulled him towards you, embracing him as if your life depended on it if you didn’t embrace this wounded man at that moment. “You’re a wonderful brother to have, Shin-chan.”

He snorted, demeaningly. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you almost vowed, willing him to believe you. “I know so because they told me all the bad things you’re excellent at, and that only means they love you so much they’re willing to exploit all your atrocious traits.”

“More like make my life a living hell,” he mumbled. “What did they tell you?”

“That you couldn’t go a day without a cola and the reason why your farts stink, and that sometimes you say my name in your sleep.”

He jumped right away from your embrace upon hearing that. The once heavy burden in his chest was now replaced with a million monkeys beating the life out of his poor heart as he sweated out, “I wasn’t!”

“Nah, of course, you don’t. I was just teasing.”

Shinichiro prayed you somehow didn’t. But the smile adorning your face was too vague and incomprehensible that he coughed out his nerves upon being jested so easily. He reached out for another cigarette from the pack on the side table, and mumbled, “And you? What’s the reason behind that first smoke?”

You stretched like a relaxed starfish on the chair beside him, “Hmm, I’m okay now.”

“What? Just like that?” Accusation seeped in his deep voice.

“Yep,” you replied. You didn’t want to tell him you had been losing sleep over him, talking his name in your own dreams yourself, and worrying about him at the most random times even when you know you shouldn’t. Not when he just exposed his heart about his own struggles out in the open.

It was a moment that called for understanding, and not one of confessing.

Nevertheless, you wanted to tell him he could lean on you for all the times he would feel miserable. Although, you felt like he knew that already as he smiled at you, silent gratitude shining in his ebony gaze, and you threw back a comforting and understanding smile to him.

What you truly wanted to tell him though was that you wanted to know him more — his habits, his thoughts, his heart. You wanted to be the different one from all the friends he deemed trustworthy enough to get a proper glimpse of his life. You wanted to be a person he would feel comfortable exposing his real self, and not the one where he would put up a facade in order to appease people.

You wanted to be that person.

As much as you wanted him to be yours.

But then again, this wasn’t the right time to lay your heart on the line. Right now, this was all about him.

You knew, deep down your gut, there would come a — may heavens bless his enthusiastic soul — romantic time to tell Shinichiro how much you like him.

That determination aside, you eyed the burning stick fitting snugly in his mouth again, observed how he puffed and huffed, and contemplated if you should snatch it away.

You swiftly did.

Grinning in triumph as he fussed over the slightly broken stick and how cigarettes nowadays were expensive, you tried, out of good fun, to inhale the nicotine and exhale it properly than the last time.

“You’re getting quite good at this,” Shinichiro remarked in a slight surprise.

“I learned from the best,” you shrugged.

“You shouldn’t be smoking. It’s bad.”

“Hah! You should know, Shin. You should know. This thing’s gonna be the reason why you’re floating transparently in the air and looking over at us like a creepy ghost.”

“That’s the goal,” he snickered as you passed him back his deathly stick. “I wouldn’t ghost over you, though.”

“I know,” you beamed. “Because I won’t let you die that easily.”

It was a blissful memory to hold dear, you were certain of it. You willingly offered Shinichiro his usual brand of cigarettes and the lighter he used as you easily sat down by his bleak tombstone a year after his death.

Funny, you never did have that chance to tell him how you feel, after all.

“I’m feeling sad today, Shin. Mind if I have one of your cigs?”

taglist. @baji-san, @narxiso and @gwynsapphire.

[cherrygummycandy]

New school, New you.

(A Recess x New Kid!Reader fic)

(AN: This is a part two to my previous x reader fic, I have aged all the characters up to highschool to account for language and more modern references. Probably a few OOC characters, but overall, I tried to stick to the characters original concepts.)

🔔📝🔔📝🔔📝🔔📝🔔📝🔔📝🔔📝🔔📝

Admittedly, you weren't expecting your first encounter with a fellow student to end up with you getting dragged around the Third-Street school's back lot. Ashley Spinelli pulls your arm, yanking you up a set of concrete stairs, giving you a decent view of the playground. Gus quickly grabs his marbles and follows the two of you, almost tripping as he scuffs one of his loafers on the bottom step. He lets out a yelp, prompting Spinelli to roll her eyes.

"Alright, new kid. Lemme get you caught up with the, uh-" Spinelli trails off, trying to think of a word to describe how the playground works. "Hierarchy?" Gus interjects. "Sure, yeah, that's what I was gonna say." Spinelli looks back over the playground and whispers "Geek...". Motioning to the center of the playground, a large jungle gym emerges. Bright red and green slides, blue climbing bars, and various other contraptions cover the structure, giving it a rather grand look, despite it just being playground equipment for an under-funded school. "See that guy up at the top?" Spinelli points upwards, to a boy sitting on top of the structure with a crown. You squint harder, noticing the crown seems to be more of a craft project than an actual crown. "Is he wearing a crown made out of-" "A baseball helmet? Yeah, I think so, no one's really sure where he got it from." Gus responds, answering your question for you. You get the feeling that's been asked a lot.

"That's King Bob, our schools dear leader." Gus holds his hand over his chest, eyes wide in admiration. You tilt your head in confusion, and Spinelli lightly smacks him on the back of the head, leading him to scramble as his glasses fall off. "Yeah, what Gus said. You're new, so you're definitely gonna have to meet the King at some point." Your posture tenses, getting a little smaller. "Um, why?" You ask. "He likes to keep tabs on all his, 'subjects.', y'know?" Spinelli uses some heavy finger quotes around subjects, giving you the impression not all his policies are popular on the playground.

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"Now, check out the dude under the tree over there." A guy in a trench coat can be seen leaning against a tree, eyes shifting back and forth as if checking for teachers. "That's Hustler Kid. He sells extra study guides, toys, snacks, and banned books. 'Long as it won't get him in trouble if you're caught, he'll sell it to ya." Spinelli explains, and Hustler kid seems to be sure the coast is clear, as he takes out a pack of smokes. "I thought he didn't sell stuff that could get kids in trouble?" You ask. Spinelli nods, "He doesn't. Those cigs are his, only his. I've made that mistake before." she sighs in exasperation. Gus scrambles back up the steps.

"Spinelli! You knocked my glasses halfway across the playground!" He complains, panting as he rests for a moment, hands on his knees. Spinelli only chuckles, folding her arms. "Didn't ask, Gus." You giggle a little at this, and Spinelli shoots you a grin. "Have you mentioned the Ashley's yet? T-That's kind of important." Gus trails off, freezing as if he recalling a harsh memory. "Good one Gus. Give em' the rundown, I gotta go to the bathroom." Spinelli heads out, casually punching your shoulder as she walks by. "The Ashley's are the meanest girls on the playground. They know everything that happens on the playground." He gets real quiet, and looks around quickly before repeating himself softly. "Everything." You nod, brows furrowed in concern. "The worst of them is Ashley A." You follow his gaze and see a gaggle of four fashionably dressed girls. One stands out, a girl with long brown hair dresses in purple sits in the middle. "Her dad is rich, and if she says she'll ruin your life, she means it. Whatever she says, goes.". "Have you had a problem with the Ashleys before, Gus?" You ask. He shudders. "I don't like to talk about it..." He mumbles, and you nod awkwardly.

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"Yo, Gus!" A loud voice rings out from a few feet away, causing you and Gus to turn your attention towards the voice. A tall boy in a basketball jersey jogs up the stairs. "Hey, we need a ref for kickball, 'think you can sub in?" The boy asks, foot tapping as he speaks. He clearly has quite a bit of energy, and seems desperate to get back to his game.

"I can't Vince, Spinelli's having me give the new kid a tour of the playground." Gus explains, gesturing to where you're stood. You give a small wave. "Oh shit, we got a new kid?" Vince says. "Language!" Gus squeaks, only to be brushed past. Vince leans up against the building in front of you, extending his free hand. "Hey, Im Vince, Vince LaSalle. Where you from?" He seems to look you over, as if unsure what to think of you just yet. "I'm just a transfer, it's my first day." You explain. "Spinelli caught you yet?" He asks with a laugh. "Yeah, she's, interesting..." He nods. "Are you any good at sports?" You shrug. "I mean, I was on the swim team at my old school, but I don't play many team sports." You admit. Vince sighs, but seems satisfied. "Well, I'm sure we can find something for you to do, maybe an equipment manager..." He pauses, and puts his hand on his head as if thinking.

"Or maybe, they just don't want to play sports?" Spinelli suggests, having returned from the restroom. Vince looks shocked, fumbling the ball in his hands and exclaiming "What! It's kickball, that's like, everything!" He seems almost offended. "It's everything to you, Vince." Spinelli slaps her hand on the underside of his ball, knocking it up out of his hands. He doesn't even flinch, now locked in a staring match with Spinelli. "Gus, go the ball." He says, and Gus only sighs before running to retrieve it. You're left with the pair, awkwardly looking back and forth between them. "Um, well..." You try to think of what to say to diffuse the situation. "Maybe I could go and watch you play sometime?" This seems to snap Vince out of his eye-brawl, and he looks over to you. "Yeah?" He asks. You nod. "Okay, yeah... cool!" He nods as he thinks, trying to suppress his grin. Spinelli gags. "Jeez, Vince. You're cheesin' harder than Mikey when we read 'Romeo and Juliet'. Knock it off." She groans, prompting an embarrassed look to spread across the boy's face. "Whatever, I gotta get back to my game." He turns around, hoping no one noticed the light blush dusting his face. "See ya' later, new kid". He calls, heading back to his Kickball game. Just as he leaves, Gus returns to the stairs, panting heavily. "Wha- where'd he go?" Gus asks, and Spinelli grins. "Just wandered off... who knows why?" Gus groans.

"I had to run halfway across the playground for this ball..."