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callmeblake · 11 months

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The Aquarian Weekly published November 23rd, 2022

Photo Credit: Mark Beemer

Digital version below the cut:

Mark Beemer

L.S. Dunes: “A Brand New Adventure”

Valentino Petrarca

Digital Cover Series

November 23, 2022

The Dunes dudes are five veteran rockers whose professional musicianship coexists with their personal friendship, shaping new and modern artistry that knows no rules and no bounds. We’re proud to live in their world, honored to experience DunesDay, and appreciative of their bond with both each other, and us.

Most supergroups are defined by the members and the former projects they’re in. Doing so with L.S. Dunes would be selling the project short and doing Past Lives a disservice. This is wholeheartedly its own entity. It sounds nothing like we’ve heard before and stands on its own by the music itself.

The band consists of our friends, Anthony Green, best known as Circa Survive’s beloved vocalist, and Frank Iero, My Chemical Romance guitarist with side projects galore. Tucker Rule, drummer for the incomparable band Thursday, and Tim Payne, Thursday’s bassist, round out the quintet with guitarist Travis Stever, lead shredder for Coheed and Cambria. It’s an impressive lineup – one filled with talent and camaraderie – and despite any preconceived notions, listeners will soon realize that this project sounds nothing like they’d expect. L.S. Dunes is not an endeavor rooted in nostalgia, but rather helps push the scene of rock music forward with experimentation and the reminder that art is supposed to be fun and expressive at its core. The music we’ve heard so far feels like the five members are creatively at their best and together, as a band, are putting their best foot forward.

Past Lives dropped earlier this month on November 11. This LP is a complex musical journey that travels through many different soundscapes and lyrical themes. Grit and enthusiasm is laced into every song. A band with members as successful as these could have easily phoned in a quick, simple album to get a paycheck. L.S. Dunes defied that bland expectation and unfortunate trend to truly put their heart and soul into every track on Past Lives. It is an album that sounds like nothing else we’ve heard before – each track is original and exciting, yet somehow seamless as every song lends itself to the next, thus creating an experience that encourages full, cover-to-cover album listening. Keep in mind that right when you think you’ve heard the best song on the album, another one comes around the bend quickly, pummeling twice as hard.

First question right out the gate: Past Lives finally out, so how are you feeling?

Frank: It feels amazing, man. So far we had the record release show at Fingerprints and then last night we had our first proper show with the record out at the Garden Amphitheater. It was amazing to actually be able to play these songs and have kids know them. It’s a dream come true, you know? We’ve been holding onto this secret for so long now. To finally have it out in the world… fuck, man, that’s what it’s all about.

Tucker: It was such a big part of our lives that only we knew about. It’s kind of like we were lying to everybody in a weird way. Now it’s finally like we can tell the truth.

Frank: Yeah, totally.

How long were you guys holding onto this secret for? You had formed the band, you started writing these songs – how long did you have to sit on that?

Tim: Two years almost!

Frank: [Two years] from when we got the first demos back from Anthony. That was the thing – we were in the pandemic together sending some things back and forth. You know, life happens and everybody’s got kids, so it was a process of working on it but at the same time there was no stress, there was no time limit, there was no expectation of what this was going to turn into or when this was going to turn into anything. It was slow moving, but it kept us going collectively. I think the moment we got the first demo back from Anthony was when we knew it was going to be a real band. That’s when we had the secret, basically.

What was it like hearing the mastered music for the first time? You have so many different influences coming together from every band in your background. I imagine the first time you hear everything finished as L.S. Dunes that is has to be a cool feeling.

Frank: Oh, absolutely.

Tim: Yeah, yeah! That was the thing that was really cool. We basically recorded this album three times – we did the demos and then we went in for a full pre-production session. We get to hear it go from ideas and demos and piecing it together to full song structure where we can really add the nuances. Even after that, we bring it to Will [Yip] and have him have his hands on everything and see have it all take shape. Just looking back and seeing, “This was just a guitar riff,” or “This was just a drum beat,” at one point and seeing it come to fruition? It’s actually here in the world? It’s amazing to actually hear it and have people hearing it.

Frank: I feel like the sounds that Will got off this record are things I’ve been chasing for years. It’s crazy how energetic and live and fresh all the songs sound. I don’t think I ever heard a record that sounds like this. It’s maybe one of my favorite sounding records I’ve ever been part of.

Tucker: The most special thing I find about the record and the writing process was I feel like every part that every person put in was their initial gut reaction. I remember when we recorded Full Collapse (2001) back in the day. That excitement of being young came through on that record. Now as we’re in adulthood here, I think capturing that first gut reaction is just like capturing that excitement as a kid. It’s that same feeling over again, just 20 years later as an adult… which is insane.

Frank: I agree with that.

What is just so cool is you have all these masterminds of this post-hardcore/punk/emo world – whatever you want to call it, the scene – coming together. Thursday revolutionized it, My Chemical Romance is one of its biggest bands, Coheed and Cambria’s edge, Circa Survive’s melody… everybody brings their own little flair. I think that’s going back to what you were saying, Frank, about how it doesn’t sound like anything we’ve heard before from any of the bands.

Frank: It’s true. What I think is so special about this record is that there are elements that feel familiar, but in a brand new way. It still feels like a fresh, brand new band and it’s exciting in that way. I don’t get a nostalgic [feeling] when I hear this record and I’ve never heard that from any of the interactions that I’ve had with anyone else who has heard [Past Lives]. There are these familiar melodies that give you a sense of feeling at home when you listen to it, but at the same time, it’s a brand new adventure.

Absolutely! Now, Tim, I know you mentioned working with Will Yip as a producer. He is one of the most incredible producers in the scene currently. How did that relationship start? How did that unfold into what it is?

Tim: Anthony had recorded with Will a few times with Circa and his solo stuff. He had always been someone that I think everyone in the band, at some point, had always been like, “Oh, it would be really awesome to work with him.” He’s had such a big hand in so many records. I think we got on a call with him and just the initial reaction was that he was as excited as we were. I think that was kind of the mantra for the whole band: everyone is welcome to be involved as long as you bring the same amount of enthusiasm and excitement and not have any preconceived idea of what the process is going to be – or should be. Everyone just kind of let it happen and let their own creativity have a voice in the process. I mean… that was just awesome. It was so cool.

Tucker: Yeah, Will is an amazing dude and he’s also a ripping guitar player, a ripping drummer. I think a big thing about this band is that we don’t have any ego with this. You know what I mean? If he has a drum part that he thinks is cooler or an idea for something, I’m down to explore it. If he has a guitar part he thinks is cool or a sound in mind, we’re down to explore it. I think that’s the collaborative thing we’re looking for. We’re trying to incorporate as many friends as possible in this whole extravaganza.

Frank: That’s the thing, man. I feel like the thing you learn over the years – and it’s very rare when bands learn it early on – is that it is always about servicing the art and servicing the song. It’s never, “Oh, but this part I wrote is so cool when I play it.” Yeah, no one gives a fuck if it ruins the song, man. You’re not a songwriter. You’re not a band. You want to be a solo artist and that’s cool. You want to be a virtuoso or whatever? Ok. But when they work together, that’s fucking perfect, and it doesn’t make any sense when it doesn’t service the song. I feel like all of us collectively have had enough experience and know the game enough to realize what’s truly important. I was scared about that but also so relieved to find there were no egos in the band when it came to that kind of shit. That’s why it works so well.

Yeah! That’s the thing: the fans, we can sense that. We know when a song is genuine, if a song has that emotional heart and soul to it. You can just tell by the reception. You have one record out and over 300,000 monthly listeners on Spotify. I feel like the fans really gravitated towards this because they knew this is for the art. This isn’t just trying to make a supergroup for the sake of making a supergroup. You guys have a real vision.

Frank: Yeah, man! Never in my life have I ever been like, “I’m going to start a band so it does this this and this,” checking these boxes. It’s always like, “Oh, that sounds really cool. I want to play with that person. I want to write music with that person. I want to create with that person.” That’s the reason you start a band. Everything else is bullshit. You can smell that from a mile away. There’s a lot of them out there – we all know what they are – and some of them have been on the cover of your magazine.

Exactly. The reception has been astounding. I even wanted to ask and you guys all mentioned it: how it’s just about getting together with friends you admire creatively and have known each other for years now. Years! At what point is it like, “Alright, let’s do it – let’s start a project together.”

Frank: You always say that! We’ve said that probably 30 times over the last two years but never have the time to do it. It’s something you just say, like, “Oh, that’d be great,” but nobody has the time to do it. If you do get the time to hang out, you just want to fucking hang out. The pandemic is really what happened, man. No one had anything going on, everyone’s life just slowed to a halt, and it was awful. People lost their lives, they lost their livelihoods. A lot of terrible terrible shit happened. I also feel like the few of us that were able to weather the storm were able to find a little bit of a silver lining.; just kind of taking a step back to start appreciating things that were taken from us. Having the time to just spend with family, to get to do the silly little things on a daily basis that you put off then it’s like, “Wow, now I’m too old to do that.” We took that time and we came together and made something beautiful out of it. Not to get fucking spiritual, but that’s what this shit’s all about. We live in a world that can be very beautiful if you want it to be. It can be very ugly, too. To find the beauty in that ugliness is kind of our job as artists, don’t you think? So that’s what we did.

Tucker: We’re all fortunate enough to work in music and to be in bands that allow us to tour across the world and have people sing along. I think when that happens early on you develop these friendships with people like we did in all of our early touring days. But then your bands all go in different directions – literally in different directions. Somebody’s on tour in San Francisco and somebody’s on tour in New Jersey. You go all over the place. You don’t see everyone for like 20 years. Maybe you see them at a festival here and there. Like Frank was saying about the pandemic, I think that’s the one thing where the world stopped, but we just didn’t want to. We’re not used to stopping and sitting still.

That makes sense. You mentioned about obviously being Jersey-based. I want to ask how that Jersey scene has influenced you guys. You talk about New Jersey in Thursday songs, of course, and in My Chem songs, of course, and in Coheed songs, of course. There’s so much in every band about that specific NJ culture. You guys have been writing music for 20-30 years now, I want to know how it’s still influencing you to this day.

Tucker: I’ll tell you right off the bat – the reason why Thursday became a band is because we wanted to play in our singer Geoff’s basement. He had a bunch of shows coming through there before we even thought about any band. Just growing up in New Jersey, being able to be around music and seeing shows constantly, was huge. That’s literally the reason why we started to be band: just to play in that fucking basement.

Frank: Honestly, the thing that carries through so much about that state or the tri-state area is work ethic. You know what I mean? There’s so many fucking bands. There are so many musicians. There are so many opportunities to get out there and prove yourself. When you get up there you better be good because there are 100 other motherfuckers trying to take your spot.

Tim: Yeah!

Frank: That’s the thing. It’s a competitive but also incestuous place where everyone plays with everybody. Everyone kind of cuts their teeth around the same time. You can’t not be serious because if you’re not then get the fuck out of the way. We’ve got a lot of people out here that are trying to make this shit work and are really serious about it. You could go to a local show and see 10 fucking amazing bands that will blow your mind on a fucking Wednesday! That was Jersey.

Tucker: Or on a Thursday [Laughs].

Frank: Or on a Thursday, this is true! I’ve got to tell you, half of those shows that I went to go see, that I snuck into see, had Thursday playing and they blew my goddamn mind. It made me want to be in a band. I wanted to do that. I loved being out there and watching it, but I needed to be up there doing that. That’s what keeps coming through.

Absolutely. I love New Jersey. I’m originally from Rhode Island, actually, and I love that state with all my heart, but in Rhode Island a show will come through once a month if you’re lucky. Then moving to Jersey over the last four to five years, every night there is something! Even now in 2022 there’s a DIY basement show you can go to every night. There’s a venue show every night. Amphitheater shows every night. There’s always something. Something in the air in and around Jersey makes the culture so strong.

Frank: And what’s cool too about those shows is it’s not just one genre. You go see a show there’s a ska band playing with a folk artist or a hardcore band playing with this punk band. That’s my CD collection – it doesn’t make any sense, it’s just great music. You get exposed to so much. It just changes you and changes your whole world view.

As artists, that’s what it should be about. You want to listen to music that just makes you feel something. It doesn’t matter if its metal or hardcore… I see that a lot in the hardcore scene. It’s like, “Oh, that’s not heavy enough.” It doesn’t matter! It’s just got to be fun! Do you like it or do you not like it?

Frank: There’s going to be gatekeepers and assholes everywhere. I get it, too. When I was young I had a very strict set of rules of how punk rock should be. You know, the punk rock God sitting on the couch at home in his mom’s basement.

Tucker: If we followed the rules this record would have never been written, because we would have all quit music like everyone said to do and gotten real jobs. Starting a band is definitely not what you’re supposed to do in a global pandemic, especially when your industry is dying.

Frank: It’s true!

Tucker: I think by following the rules, this never would have happened. All of our bands never would have happened if we followed the fucking rules.

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Even what you’re saying Tucker, every one of you guys already have a massively successful band. You don’t need to start this, you want to. It serves no logical purpose to start L.S.Dunes, but thank God you guys did it. Thank God it exists.

Tucker: Every person in this band… it’s like having a loose tooth. You keep playing with it. That’s what we want to do. Staying sharp, writing songs is important to all of us. Staying sharp practicing our instruments is important. So when you can practice your craft but also write songs to challenge yourself, then this comes out of it, it’s ridiculous. How the fuck did this happen?

Frank: Yeah, I think that’s the thing: you have a collection of lifers and not just, ‘punk rockers’ or ‘scene guys.’ You have a collection of musicians that just love the craft. What goes into making a song, what goes into starting a band, what the aesthetic is going to be behind it? All of that is such an art form. It can be lost in a digital age where everything is immediate and you have a thousand discographies in your pocket that you never fucking listen to. It’s a lost art form. That lost art of creating from nothing… man, that’s what I grew up on. My dad was a drummer, my grandfather was a drummer. They were musicians, they talked about gigs and creating all the time. That’s how they connected. I needed to learn that secret language or be a part of that secret society in order to connect with them. That’s kind of where I cut my teeth.

Absolutely! You talk about that creativity and that art form. I also think that shows in the album, Past Lives. This doesn’t feel like 11 singles. This feels like a record. Listening to this album start to finish you hear every track fitting in where it belongs. That might just be the way I personally picked up on it, but was that an intentional choice on the band’s part?

Frank: Absolutely.

Tim: I think that we put a lot of thought into every song so as you go through it’s almost like sculpture. As things present themselves, there’s obvious places that they should fit. I think that as certain songs came about you kind of get a feel for which ones work together either musically, lyrically, or a combination of the two. At a certain point, once we realized we were able to write songs, they happened very easily – not to say it was easy. You want to put yourself in a position where you’re creating an album. The way that music is right now, you listen to one song from one band and then you make a playlist and you listen to just mixtapes all the time. I think that when we were getting into music initially, the thing that grabbed me wasn’t individual songs but fully fleshed out albums. I think that’s how we all approached it and that’s why it worked so well.

Tucker: At the same time I also feel like we never were saying, “This record needs this song.” You know what I mean? Because there was never really a record to begin with. We were just kind of writing songs together and at a point it was like, “Ok, these all work together.”

Tim: We realized early on that if we tried to force something, it wasn’t meant to be. If there was an idea that got put out and it didn’t grab everyone’s attention, we didn’t say, “Oh, fuck that song,” but we moved onto something where we could harness that creative spark. I think that translates in the songs.

It goes back to what we were saying earlier about how even if you make this really cool riff, but it doesn’t fit the song, it just doesn’t fit the song. As you guys said, it’s all about the greater purpose of the art.

Tim: Absolutely, yeah!

Another question I need to ask you guys is about your very first ever show at Riot Fest. Actually, Frank, that’s where I met you for the first time. What a crowd that was. That was insane.

Frank: I wasn’t expecting that.

For the first ever show as a band and with zero hype in terms of leading up to this, it was just the first show. Then droves of people were right in front of you. That’s got to be a crazy experience for the band.

Frank: It was. Nerve wracking? Absolutely. It’s also realizing that you feel good about that – good about what you’ve created. We had one song out! You know what I mean? I’ve played Riot Fest at 1:00pm before and there wasn’t that many people there. There’s something about this band and about what we’re doing right now that feels special. Something bigger than any one of us is going on. So, yeah, we got out there and I was like, “Oh my God – I was expecting 20 people,” and it’s more like 2,000. It was amazing… a great feeling.

Tucker: We’ve never over-thought anything in this band, from the songs to the album to the album art to anything like that. Everything was kind of immediate. Riot Fest was symbolic of that in a way because we did play at one in the afternoon. We woke up and we didn’t have time to think about it. It was immediate, “Ok, let’s not overthink it. Let’s get up there and play the songs,” and that really worked into our favor. We didn’t have time to freak out.

Frank: It’s true.

Tucker: Low stress!

Tim: Speak for yourself! [Laughs]

Tucker: But imagine having all day to think about it? Imagine that! Imagine playing at 10 at night and thinking about it all fucking day.

Frank: Yeah… I did that [Laughs].

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It’s rewarding to see, as you said. We’ve talked about fan reception, but it’s true – seeing this in real time? The crowd right there in front of you? It validates everything you guys have worked the past two years for. That’s why the live shows are so important. That’s why we missed it in the pandemic. You can hear studio takes, but experiencing a song in that setting and seeing it the way it was meant to be? Seeing Anthony jump into the crowd and scream? Seeing all of you guys in tune? It’s another experience, it really is.

Frank: It totally is. Like we were saying before, at that point, I think only one song was out. The crowd went off like they knew every single one. That’s a really rare thing. I’ve been around this block quite a few times. That doesn’t happen. It just doesn’t happen. I’m very, very thankful and in awe of what we experienced… and continue to experience, really.

Of course! First off, I want to thank you guys so much for taking time out of your day to talk with The Aquarian for this cover story. We really appreciate all three of you sitting down with me to push this record and your shows. My final question for you today is about this record songwriting wise. It’s very unique because I feel like it switches between hardcore-style fast, very melodic parts, and extremely rythmic parts. It does it very seamlessly, too. When you’re writing a song, do you almost have two different ideas that you Frankenstein into one? Do you naturally slow it down?

Frank: It really depends on the song. Usually it starts with a riff, right? I think it’s usually either mostly bass riffs or guitar riffs. Then goes to Tucker and then Tucker usually will flip it on its head – it’s crazy. Sometimes the beat comes in and it’s like, “Oh, man! The one is here now. That’s not where I thought it was going to be. That’s fucking awesome!” It makes your brain think in a different way. You have five different guys that are all songwriters, and it is really difficult to be both a bass and a drum songwriter. I don’t know if you’ve been in a band, but I’ve never been in a band where the drummer or bassist kind of crafted songs in such a wild, rhythmic, and melodic way. Everyone is writing catchy melodies. That’s one of the things I love so much about Tucker’s playing: there’s these catchy melodies within the beats. It’s just another earworm that happens.

Tucker: Awww.

Frank: It is true! I’m not saying it because he’s holding the phone [Laughs]. That will happen and then it will come to Travis and me and it’s like a mad dash who gets there first. We’ll start to put riffs on top – now, at this point, we were writing and there’s no vocals. You’re just kind of writing and seeing how a melody feels and it if it could be something that could latch on. Then we’ll have a verse and somebody here is like, “I think it should go here.” We’ll copy and paste drum beats so that you can get to a chorus and we’ll write that chorus bit on top of it and then send it back to Tim. Tim’s really good about arranging chorus, verse, chorus, verse like that. Then we send it back again and play over it again. Finally we go to Anthony and say, like, “What the fuck? How did he find a melody in all this shit that we put on here?” That’s really how the first half of the record was written: just kitchen sink, everything goes in. Then we started to subtract from there and really fine tune what supports the melodies and what supports the song. I don’t know, we just happen to write really well together. It shouldn’t work but does.

Tim: Yeah, it was really crazy. There would be parts where we would say, “Hey, here’s drums, bass, and guitar. It’s just a verse.” Then you would send that out and be like, “I don’t know what’s going to come back!” For “Grey Veins” and other songs, Frank would just be like, “Oh, I don’t know, but how is this for a chorus?” It’s like obviously a yes, too! It’s awesome! Like we keep saying, we do our best to inspire each other. I don’t want Frank or Tucker or anyone in the band to feel like there’s a filter and they need to say, “Ok, well this is already happening, so let me dial it back.” We really try to foster everyone just being as absolutely creative as they possibly can. Somehow all of our voices kind of fit together which is very bizarre and rare and gratifying. [It’s] beautiful and it’s great.

Frank: We have no idea, basically!

Tucker: All of that is completely accurate and I have nothing to add.

It goes back to how you guys have no expectations for or from this project. No one even knew it was existing. You don’t have to worry about the radio single. It’s just, “Ok, how can I add to Tim’s part? How can I add to that drum fill that Tucker just did?”

Tucker: That’s that youthful spirit we were talking about earlier. When we would add, we would try to do it as fast as possible. “Get this part done so somebody can do the next part!” That gave it that off-the-rails, kind of nervous energy of just trying to get your dudes psyched.

Incredible! I know a lot of side projects are a one-and-done kind of thing. With the reception that this record had, you all are going to keep pushing forward, right? I know the record just came out, so it’s still very fresh, but are there any future plans for L.S. Dunes?

Tim: We’re always writing.

Frank: We have a lot of stuff.

Tim: We have so many ideas going.

Tucker: I’ll be honest, we all love this record so much, but it’s old news to us. We haven’t begun to scratch the surface of what we’re capable of.

FOR INFORMATION ON SOME OF L.S. DUNES’ FIRST SHOWS AND LOCAL TOUR DATES, CLICK HERE! THE SUPERGROUP COMES TO ABSURY LANES THIS FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 25, FOLLOWED BY PHILADELPHIA’S FIRST UNITARIAN CHURCH ON SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 26, AND BROOKLYN’S MUSIC HALL OF WILLIAMSBURG ON TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 29!

#ls dunes #frank iero #tucker rule #anthony green #tim payne #the aquarian #lamb shirt #melissa shirt #Youtube #travis stever

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hellcatrising · 2 years

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Hi! I wanted to submit my info for a Bleach matchup

Personality: INTJ 3w4. I tend to act very arrogant and cocky as a defense mechanism. I don't like being vulnerable with people because it's not their job to worry about my problems. I come across very calm and collected and people rely on me for advice but can't let myself depend on anyone. I'm really analytical and am good at finding loopholes and working around problems under pressure. I'm not good with emotional support and can come across a little cold because of that. Under everything I think I'm very kind but feel like I burden people with my presence a lot of times. I'm a very eye for an eye perso and the way I treat people entirely depends on how they treat me. I'm not that expressive (outwardly at least because I'm actually really emotional I just hide it well) and have a hard time relaxing or enjoying things because I've been conditioned to always consider how it will look on mine and my family's reputation. I'm a perfectionist and hold myself to very high standards. I look intimidating but I'm actually just socially awkward and suck at small talk (because it seems kind of pointless to me). I also have a short temper but there's only certain specific people that can get me to actually lose my patience and explode. I don't cry or break down in front of people and people usually think I'm perfectly fine. I constantly chase perfection for myself and try to be the most idealized version of myself. I tend to act completely different in different situations because I know what personality is going to get me the best results and praise. It's exhausting but I'd be worse off if I didn't hold myself to these standards. In order for me to like or fall in love with someone I first have to actually have a certain level of respect for them which must be earned. In the “get to know" stage I subtly test the person a lot to see how they react or respond to certain things. It's like a test they don't know his happening but that will determine if our relationship is gonna go further. My love language is giving gifts but I'm not sure what my love language to receive is. Some negative traits are I try to handle everything alone, I have a big ego, and and I can be kind of mean. If I’m really invested in a competition all bets are off and I will literally do whatever I have to do to win because I believe things don’t just happen within the bounds of the rules. If I’m smart enough to bend the situation in my favor it’s fair game. Whoever I’m with is just gonna have to be able to handle that tho because even though they’re objectively negative traits, the only thing I see as negative is things that make me feel weak. I know my limits but under no circumstances can I appear weak. Since I was raised to value strength the most (if you’re strong you deserve to exist -my dad LMAO) that feels like the worst possible thing that can happen to me. I have to be the smartest and strongest person in the room always. I’d rather be hated than be weak. Whoever I end up with will also have to be very emotionally intelligent and persistent because I have a habit of pushing people away especially if I like them so it’s gonna take some work to get me to not be so prickly and guarded anymore. I kind of have a guilty until proven attitude when it comes to live so I always assume the worst and don’t trust people.

Hobbies/Likes: I love fashion and I've been a model since I was 14, I used to do pageants as a kid, I make my own music and music is probably the thing I love the most. It's really what I use to process the world so music is definitely the way to my heart. I can't play any instruments but I can sing and do digital music production. (I've always wanted to be in a rock band) I'm a good artist but I don't like doing it on a deadline (I took an AP art class back in high school and didn't draw for 2 years after it cuz I hated being forced to draw. It's like when something you like becomes a chore) I've gotten back into drawing recently tho. I've also been doing martial arts since I was 7 + fencing. I'm good at chess and poker and made money from playing/betting on games when I was younger. I also love reading.

Dislikes: Misogyny (when people especially men undermine my intelligence and experience and end up making a mistake I warned them about only to listen when another man repeats the same thing l've been saying since the beginning), big egos with nothing to back it up, people who can't keep up with me (I wouldn't want to be in a relationship with someone whose hand I have to hold all the time. They need to be on the same level/wavelength as me and not drag me down), being a coward and not standing up for your own beliefs/motives, people that are way too nice (whoever I end up with has to have a mean streak because it shows they are able to take action when needed), being self absorbed and not considering the consequences of your actions. People who have a moral superiority complex that think they're better than me for not wanting to break rules to get what they want. People who can't take responsibility for what they do (Everything I do is on purpose so even if it's a bad thing I'll admit to it because whatever happens as a result is no one's problem but my own). Although I will say there's sometimes an exception to these things depending on the person and situation.

Alright I’m sorry this took me a while to get to.... I struggled with this one. I went back and forth on it so just hear me out ok.... I’m actually a tiny bit jealous that I matched you with Byakuya JUST HEAR ME OUT ok.........

It did NOT work out at first. I can see you HATING his guts at first because the two of you are very similar... In good ways and bad ways...But if you don’t know him, he’s literally everything you hate until you understand him a bit better. Neither of you really cared for each other’s company. He didn’t really mind being around you, but his coldness and the whole superiority thing he’s got going on.... Yeah, didn’t work. But social situations eventually forced the two of you to interact. Because you’re so much alike, other people have a similar way of avoiding the two of you - because both of you seem like you would be intimidating. Not in a bad way, just in a way that demands respect. So this meant a lot of awkward moments together....alone. Byakuya couldn’t deny that he’d seen similar qualities in you that he had in himself after a while of working with you and once he slowly let down his walls and showed you what was inside and what his true intentions were, things started to take off. Talk about a SLOW BURN though. He’s pretty cut and dry and to the point so he could see through the tests you put out really quick and he addressed it fairly quickly. This forwardness could be taken either way, but from reading what you’ve written, I don’t think you would be taking it the wrong way? Byakuya appreciates the fact that you have a more mature way of going about things and he can certainly appreciate someone who holds themselves to a high standard, just don’t over do it to the point of exhaustion. He will make sure you get proper rest. He also appreciates your interests, music isn’t something he does, but he enjoys yours and he certainly enjoys your art. He likes to sit and do his calligraphy while you draw, this is quality time and it’s most certainly one of his love languages. He’s built up some pretty strong walls so every now and then he catches himself, being too distant or not communicating very well, and when he does catch himself he is quick to apologize to you.

#bleach match up #byakuya kuchiki #manda's matchups

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znitsamluv · 2 years

Note

Hi I wanted to send in my info for a tokrev matchup. My pronouns are she/ her and I prefer men for my matchup. I’m also 20.

Personality: INTJ 3w4. I tend to act very arrogant and cocky as a defense mechanism. I don't like being vulnerable with people because it's not their job to worry about my problems. I come across very calm and collected and people rely on me for advice but can't let myself depend on anyone. I'm really analytical and am good at finding loopholes and working around problems under pressure. I'm not good with emotional support and can come across a little cold because of that. Under everything I think I'm very kind but feel like I burden people with my presence a lot of times. I'm a very eye for an eye perso and the way I treat people entirely depends on how they treat me. I'm not that expressive (outwardly at least because I'm actually really emotional I just hide it well) and have a hard time relaxing or enjoying things because I've been conditioned to always consider how it will look on mine and my family's reputation. I'm a perfectionist and hold myself to very high standards. I look intimidating but I'm actually just socially awkward and suck at small talk (because it seems kind of pointless to me). I also have a short temper but there's only certain specific people that can get me to actually lose my patience and explode. I don't cry or break down in front of people and people usually think I'm perfectly fine. I constantly chase perfection for myself and try to be the most idealized version of myself. I tend to act completely different in different situations because I know what personality is going to get me the best results and praise. It's exhausting but I'd be worse off if I didn't hold myself to these standards. In order for me to like or fall in love with someone I first have to actually have a certain level of respect for them which must be earned. In the “get to know" stage I subtly test the person a lot to see how they react or respond to certain things. It's like a test they don't know his happening but that will determine if our relationship is gonna go further. My love language is giving gifts but I'm not sure what my love language to receive is. Some negative traits are I try to handle everything alone, I have a big ego, and and I can be kind of mean. If I’m really invested in a competition all bets are off and I will literally do whatever I have to do to win because I believe things don’t just happen within the bounds of the rules. If I’m smart enough to bend the situation in my favor it’s fair game. Whoever I’m with is just gonna have to be able to handle that tho because even though they’re objectively negative traits, the only thing I see as negative is things that make me feel weak. I know my limits but under no circumstances can I appear weak. That feels like the worst possible thing that can happen to me. I’d rather be hated than be weak. Whoever I end up with will also have to be very emotionally intelligent and persistent because I have a habit of pushing people away especially if I like them so it’s gonna take some work to get me to not be so prickly and guarded anymore. I kind of have a guilty until proven attitude when it comes to live so I always assume the worst and don’t trust people.

Extra Stuff: My main highest kins are Mikey and Ran (TR), Vanitas, Kaguya Shinomia, xiao(Genshin), Yurio (yuri on ice), Vil (twisted wonderland), and Shogo Makishima (Psycho Pass). I am introverted but can appear to be extroverted if need be. I appear very confident but it’s like a “I feel like I’m the worst so I act like I’m the best” situation. I am not very expressive with my emotions and most people’s first impression of me is they find me intimidating and think I look mean. My intelligence is my favorite thing about myself because it’s undeniable and I know no matter what I can think my way out of anything.

Your match is ready!

Your match is naoto tachibana

• How you met .

° You heard you had a new neighbor in the apartment opposite to you but you really didn't think much of it and didn't even know who moved in you just hoped that they won't disturb your peace and quiet.

° It went on for a few weeks until one night you were in grossed in your work when the door bell rang .

° You felt annoyed that someone is knocking at this hour but still opened the door to be met by a stranger

.° Naoto introduced himself as your neighbor and apologized for knocking at this hour and then proceeded to ask if you could give him some salt because he ran out of it .

° you told him to wait for a few seconds and came back with some salt and gave it to him , he took it and gave you a barley noticed smile and thanked you before leaving.

° From that day on every few weeks your door bell will ring at unholy hours just to find Naoto asking for things like pepper and spices.

° one day you got sick from working at home so you decided to change the place so you went to a small cafe nearby, it was your favorite because it served your favorite drink and the prices were good .

° you sat down in your usual spot and opened your laptop and continued working , after a few minutes the door of the cafe opened but you didn't bother looking because it's another customer.

° " Excuse me would you mind if I sat here " you looked at the source of the voice and saw your neighbor.

° You thought for a moment before nodding" Only if you don't disturb me while I work "

° Naoto showed you his laptop bag in his hand indicating that he was going to work too .

° you both didn't even glance at each other the whole time and Naoto left first and when you went to pay for your drink you found out he already paid .

° It should have felt nice but you felt annoyed somehow and Ended up going to his apartment to give him his money .

° He opened the door and said it was ok but in the end you made him take it .

° you were about to get In your apartment when he called you asking you if he could invite you for dinner as an apology.

° you declined saying you were busy but he insisted and said that it was on him for doing something that annoyed you .

° At the end you agreed and the next day you went to have dinner In his apartment.° His apartment was so clean and organized and he had the food already on the table .

° Through out the dinner you didn't talk much Naoto was the one talking and asking questions and you gave him short answers .

° Even though you didn't talk much that didn't annoy Naoto he found you luring and different and wanted to get to know you better so after that everytime he sees you going to work he greets you and now you two usually sit together in the cafe like the first time both of you working and not talking at all and you didn't even plan this out you just go on Monday and he usually goes there too , even days you would go late and he would be already there working on his laptop and you would find your favorite drink already ordered.

• How is your dating life

• Naoto is a really patient man and he never cross the line .

• He went through all of your tests and he succeed in them .

• You are the most beautiful and independent strong woman he ever came across and he respects you for your hard work and self respect and he could rely on you and trusts you with his whole heart that he usually asks you for advice when he is working on a new case .

• you are both usually so stressed because of work so when it is lunch time and you are still working you would find a plate full of delicious food in front of you and Naoto sits in front of you working also , he would give you a small smile before telling you to enjoy your food .

• Whenever you try to push Naoto away he respects you need space but he usually leaves lunch and dinner in front of your door because you usually forget to cook because of work .

• Naoto really loves listening to your music and he encourages you and gives you ideas to new ones and when you usually draw something he would ask if he could take it for a moment and you would get confused but when he comes back he has a printed copy and he has it on his desk so he could look at it when he is working.

• Naoto is your biggest supporter he knows you don't like being seen weak so he doesn't try to baby you instead when he sees you are stressed he would take you on a ride at night with jazz music on the low or he would give you a massage to lower your tension.

• Whenever your competitive side comes out Naoto watches from a far until he sees that you have reached a limit where you are really stressed so he talks to you about working but not overwhelming your self .

• Naoto is not a clingy man so every time in a while he would give you a really quick side hug and whenever he passes by when you are working in your room he pats your head really quickly before running because he knows you might shout at him for intruding your working time .

• Your dates would be simple and elegant like going to Museums and music exhibitions and on your holidays he takes you to a fancy restaurant.

• Naoto also loves playing chess with you even though you win everytime he still plays and hope that he will win one time .

• Naoto never gets annoyed or bored with you, you are different from many people he met and loves you so much and he feels warm inside to know that you have finally warmed up to him and chose to be with him .

• In winter you stay really late when working and sometimes fall asleep and this is Naoto's favorite part were he puts a blanket on you because he knows carrying you will disturb your sleep and kisses your forehead before smiling to himself thinking " How did I get this lucky to have someone like you ".

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magicsunwheel · 3 years

Text

Why You're F#cking Amazing

Pick-a-Card

How to play: pick one of the photos below using your intuition. You can close your eyes and meditate for a bit or just take a few grounding breaths while thinking of the topic. Feeling drawn to more than one is fine! You might have messages in more than one pile

Pile 1 (x) Pile 2 (x) Pile 3 (x)

My pile numbers always go from left to right, then down to the text row (if applicable)

Pile 1

Cards: The High Priestess, Five of Swords, Seven of Pentacles, The Moon Rx, Five of Rods, Ace of Pentacles

You are so intuitive! You're either very in touch with your divine feminine or are working your way there right now. Something about you is severe in the most beautiful way. You can take things seriously when they need to and the way you command a room with just your presence is unmatched. Maybe you're also a tarot reader or involved in spirituality/divination in some way. Maybe you really like Pick-a-Cards.

Something beautiful about you is that you never give up on a fight, especially when you know the end is worth it. Your ambition is strong and you will fight for what you love and what you want. You are not weak-willed by any means.

This also makes you so unique! You work so hard and put so much labor into your love even if you know it will take a long time to come to fruition. The times that you feel discouraged by a lack of results are few and far between. If for some reason you do find yourself wistfully hoping for faster results or an easier path, you can easily remind yourself of why you started in the first place.

You might have moments where you think of yourself as sneaky or like you're hiding a part of yourself from others, like your true self would be too much for them. I'm here to tell you that your intensity is exactly what make you such a beautiful person! You thrive in competition and in adversity. It gives you a chance to show off your quick thinking and survival skills. Others look at you with envy of how you can make an opportunity out of seemingly nothing!

If you need help improving your self-love, Spirit says to stop comparing yourself to others! You are amazing and beautiful and unique all on your own! Throwing yourself into the fray to compete against others who are nothing like you will only fim your inner shine. And you really do shine! When I asked for a card about why you are beautiful, nearly half the damn deck flew out!

Sprit loves you and I love you so please take care of yourself and keep making those amazing opportunities to improve your physical surroundings. (I feel like you have a very clean room/home)

Pile 2

Cards: Nine of Rods, the World, King of Cups, Three of Rods, Ace of Rods, Two of Cups

Ahh the Loona pile!

Similar to Pile 1, but much more fiery! You are resilient! Taking time to collect yourself before pushing forward with a renewed sense of energy and purpose is such an amazing and useful trait. You maybe aren't as commanding of a presence but you have such an inner strength that no one can deny.

You got the World for the reason why you're beautiful! Maybe it's related to physically being very beautiful and possibly exotic-looking. You might have very specific features associated with a certain area of the world that stand out where you live. You also have such a wonderful understanding of the world and where it's currently at. Things can seem negative or like hope is lost but you still seek out the beauty and share it with others. You see opportunity where others do not and feel a sense of peace and connectedness with all of humanity. Wow!

Your uniqueness shines in your emotionality and compassion. You might be a natural born leader who makes sure to understand all under your rule. You lead with kindness and, most importantly, by example. You don't have any desire to use you position for ill-gotten gains. Power to you does not corrupt, it solely provides a tool for you to do good in the world and really make a difference in the lives of others, whether it's on a large or small scale. You are probably the kind of person who makes sure to give money to those who need it when you pass a begging mother and her children, or buying a homeless man a bottle of water on a hot day.

Your card for why you think you are not perfect actually came out quite positive. Maybe you don't have a very low self esteem, but I can see a few possible scenarios here. You might be constantly planning in your head, waiting and watching for the next move to take but never actually getting to the action part. Maybe you're planning for your future and have so much planned out that you're excited for, but haven't made the practical plans on how to actually get there. This could make you feel bad about yourself especially on days where you're reminded of others moving ahead in their lives while you're still planning. Visualisation is very important in manifesting your desired reality! If you are moving slower than others around you, remember that it is okay to not be where "everyone else" is. Life is not a race or a competition. Taking your time to get to where you need to be when you need to be there reminds me of the story of the tortoise and the hare. Quick does not necessarily mean better.

You can improve your self-love by creating! Using your creativity and passion to make something! Create art, whether it's physical/digital art, music, writing, inventing, anything that uses those creative muscles of yours. It doesn't have to be good! Just creating something will help burn up that excess energy you have that's trying to rush you somewhere. Self-expression this way can be a wonderful hobby even if you don't consider yourself as a creative person.

Your kindness really shines through. You care so deeply about the people around you and your spiritual team cares just as deeply about you. You are loved and watched over and protected by Spirit. Others around you also see your sparkle and appreciate and admire you, even if they don't show it. Know you are beautiful and amazing and bringing a light into this world that needs to be here.

Pile 3

Cards: Six of Rods, the Hierophant, Four of Rods, Six of Cups, Ten of Swords, the Hermit Rx

Damn, who are y'all!? You've got some mighty power and pull in this world. Maybe you're a public figure or have some kind of platform, like a social media with many followers. You could also be well-recognized within your field of study/work. Whoever you are, people see you and look up to you. They celebrate you and how amazing you are! Spirit loves this about you and you really shine in the spotlight. Your achievements deserve all this pomp and celebration!

You are naturally authoritative. People listen when you speak and take your words to heart. You might also be a religious person or someone who enjoys organization and the comfort of hierarchy. People will willingly follow you wherever you lead them because they trust you with all their hearts. "A merciful ruler" (lol) You hold your position with grace and dignity befitting a king or queen.

You are unique in ways the public recognizes, but we knew that already! You might be someone who likes to entertain and you throw the greatest parties and get-togethers. Maybe you've planned a wedding and everyone had such an amazing time! You know how to relax and have fun when the time for celebrating arrives. You can out down your guard and bit and let loose. Not many people with such responsibility can let go of the reigns like that, but you don't seem to hold on to control too tightly.

Your past might be a source of anxiety for you. Maybe you're worried that what you've done when you were younger will catch up to you and ruin what you've got going on now, but it's important to remember that the past is the past. It cannot be undone or wished away. Taking time to accept what happened and recognizing that you've moved on to bigger and better things is important here. Whatever happened, take time to heal your childhood wounds and forgive past actions.

Ending this cycle will bring much more self-love to your life. Old habits and patterns being out to rest is the way forward. It might be a painful ending and something you don't necessarily look forward to, but it is something that needs to happen to clear out old energy and welcome in everything new. You can't expect to move on if you're still repeating old actions or ways of thinking. It's time to set these things to rest and evolve. Leave behind what no longer serves you.

Your understanding of yourself knows no bounds. You've taken the time to inquisit yourself and learn all of the shadows that lie there. Self-reflection might be a favored pastime for you. Through this knowledge of yourself you are able to see truths that many struggle to see all their lives. Your light can cut through the fog if bullshit and see the true source of something. Use this knowledge of yourself to become the best version of yourself that you can be! I know you're already on your way there and it's amazing to see! Spirit is so proud of you and loves you so much!

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bisexual-bitch-blogs · 3 years

Note

hi this is my first time sending a request like this, would it be ok to ask for a threesome with two mean doms zhongli and diluc, with maybe overstimulation, spanking, rough sex, choking, bondage, orgasm denial, degrading,,,, 👉👈 thank u so much for ur service 🙏

"Bullies"

Dom Diluc/Zhongli X Sub Fem Reader

That's a lot of kinks. But I'm not complaining. Um I did have not have any pics of Diluc and Zhongli together so I did a simple 5 sec editing and here ya go! Sorry this took so long. Thank you for reading!

POV You bought a new friend home. It's a harmless hydro slime and your boyfriends dont approve of it. You get pouty and they punish you

Includes: Overstimulation, Spanking, Rough sex, Choking, Bondage, Orgasm denial, degrading, Dacryphilia, dumbification

❤💛--------------------------------------💛❤

You were living every girl's dream. Dating Diluc, the stoic bartender and Zhongli, the walking history of Liyue book.

How did you attract them? Simple, you were a cute crybaby working as an adventurer. Not a surprise when their sadistic personas screamed to make you cry even harder.

Telling you right here and now. They're gentlemen in the streets but assholes in the sheets. You loved them with all your heart but they're so mean in bed. You can't even tell them to stop because they know you actually liked it.

Anyways, enough about them. After finishing your last commission, you bought a small blue slime home because it was so cute. Not only that. It was harmless seeing as it kept following you around like a dog. Carrying the bundle of joy in your arms, you entered Dawn Winery Manor, the workers stared in astonishment watching the hydro being nestled between your breast, purring.

Simultaneously, your lovers came out from wherever they were and greeted you.

"Welcome home, darling/dear-"

They were cut off, seeing the suppose hostile mob snoozing away in your embrace. You greeted them back.

"I'm home, Luc! Li!"

Zhongli's porcelain face scrunched up in disgust seeing the slimy creature. Why the hell did you bring it into their sleeping quarters? Is that thing just made a smug face at him?? Nah hes just delusional cuz of jealously and disgust or smth

Diluc doesn't hate slimes like the Geo Archon does but not does he like them either. Rather the crimson haired thought of them as nuisances to his business.

You asked.

"I found this slime following me and thought it was harmless. Why not take it home? Can we keep it please~?"

The males looked at each and nodded before turning back to look at you. They said.

"No."

You were taken back, baffled.

"What? Why??!"

The red haired male huffed, explaining.

"I probably would not mind, perhaps let you put it in a tank and take care of it however you know how Zhongli has a very strong hate for anything slimy."

You pouted.

"Then it doesn't need to be near Li and it'll be fine!"

You were determine to have this small slime be your companion during adventuring time. Forget seelies. Forget your boyfriends disapproval. Your going to keep it in the guest room and sleep with the squishy blue ball there.

Just as you were about to run away. Diluc grabbed you by the waist, carrying you over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes, making you drop your little companion. It bounces away, squeaking. You called out, hitting the red head's lower back, weakly with your fists.

"Hey! What was that for?!"

! SMACK !

Flinching, a swift slap was delivered to your bum and you didn't know who did it. Zhongli said.

"After we said no. You still take it in? Bad girl. I believe punishment must be ordered."

You blabbered in disbelief.

Suddenly, you were tossed onto the bed, sinking into the soft sheets of comfort, your clothes were ripped off by 2 pairs of greedy hands.

Perhaps you froze in shock when they toss away your scattered remains of clothing but they're already naked, their little friends exposed yet not awakened.

Zhongli hand gripped around your throat tightly, cutting off your air way. Meanwhile, your pyro lover ran his hot wet tongue over your folds, dampening your entrance. Tears gather at the corner of your eyes, feeling hazy at the lack of air yet hot. When Zhongli took away his coarse hand away from your throat, you desperately gasped for air. Without time to rest, the geo user pressed down on your hardened buds with his thumbs. You gave a breathy moan, stilling trying to catch the air you desperately needed in your lungs.

Diluc lapped at the slick you produced from your core, his nose rubbed against your clit making you shake every 5 seconds. Taking this as a distraction. The ravenette clipped your hard buds with some sort of unique silver nipple clamps.

It stung and Zhongli is not helping by tugging on them. You complained.

"I-It hurts!"

Nothing new. They whispered comforting words but you couldn't hear them cause of the erratic beating of your heart through your ears.

Something hot entered your entrance so you looked down and saw it was Diluc's digits thrusting in and out, occasionally rubbing a weird spot that made you moan out loud. Any attempts to close your legs, resulted in your smooth legs bended over your head and harsh spankings. Diluc reprimanded.

"Bad slut."

! SMACK !

Losing counts of how many time the pyro user landed a hit on each of your ass cheeks. Tears ran down your face like a waterfall, feeling the burn on your poor bottom. The nerve when Diluc rubbed them, hoping to soothe the pain. Well it ain't working. Bet it's all red now but it'll be bruised tomorrow.

Out of habit you bound your thighs together. However, your archon lover decided to tie your ankles and wrist to the corners of the bed.

Your head was turned to the side facing a big angry weeping member pressing against your lips.

"Open your mouth and take it all in like the pretty whore you are. You wanted us to punish you in the first place. That's why you disobeyed."

You gaped, screaming in your mind.

'ILLOGICAL! WE DID THIS JUST YESTERDAY."

Zhongli took the opportunity of your slightly opened mouth and slammed his member down your throat. You gagged, quickly trying to adjust to the large accompany in your mouth.

Man, they really manhandling you today. The ruby eyed male also plunges his length into your entrance, slowly pulling it out to the tip then pushing the rest in. You mewled in etascy. In sync, they fucked you at a rough pace. Just as you were about to release, they slowed down. You softly whine, tugging your hands, weakly at the restraints.

"Would you look at that. Our pretty whore wants to cum. Does she deserve it, mister Diluc?"

With a expression of annoyance, the red head rejected.

"No."

They continued the torture; fucking you at a relentless pace and when your about to reach your high, they slow down before repeating the process.

You cried, miserably. Their teasing was just endless. Letting them do whatever to your body, you felt your eyes roll up. The pyro user, chuckles.

"How cute. We fucked her brains out. She took her punishment so well. She deserves a reward, no?"

Zhongli takes off the toys pinching your swelling nipples, agreeing with the other male.

"Yes, even a bitch needs to cum at some point. Let her cum all she wants."

You didn't register the fact they pulled out their lengths, already taking off the restraints when they turn you over onto your stomach, doggy style. Their members slid back into you no problem. It was like your holes was made for them or they fucked you so much, your body's insides molded to their dick shape.

You moaned over and over again, cumming for who knows how many times. You were conscious however your mind was somewhere else.

Since they took away your walking privileges for the next 2 weeks, you get to keep the slime. Haha in your face geo daddy.

You named the small of hydro element, Puppy cause why not?

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

Again sorry for the wait! I'm trying to manage my schedule to scoot in a writing here and there since I also have Wattpad to deal with.

This one took a while but I am very excited for the next nsfw/crack request coming up and hope to achieve big brain for it.

#genshin impact #genshin+impact+x+reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin zhongli #zhongli #diluc x reader #genshin diluc #diluc imagines #zhongli x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x reader

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spencersawkward · 3 years

Note

hi i love your writing sm, could u do something w having sex w mgg in his trailer🦋

oh yes i can most definitely do that. i just did a blurb that included something similar but i have a whole other fantasy for this one that i think would be so hot. this is just like filthy smut i might have done a lil too much lol.

summary: reader goes to visit her friend, Matthew, on set. when he catches her doing something dirty in his trailer, he offers to help.

word count: 4.2k

relationship: Fem!Reader/Matthew

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, masturbation, dirty talk, face-sitting, degradation, Cocky Matthew, some semi-exhibitionism.

masterlist

my toes curl over the sheets and I let out a dissatisfied groan as I throw the abandoned vibrator onto the side table. ever since flying home from visiting friends in New York, I’ve been absolutely, embarrassingly... horny.

usually, my trusty toy is able to work wonders; this week has been rough, though. maybe it’s something to do with my stress-levels or maybe my body just doesn’t feel like cooperating. it doesn’t help that I have about an hour before I’m scheduled to visit my friend on the set of his show.

I haven’t seen Matthew in almost a year. between his shooting schedule and my own job getting more demanding, spending time together really hasn’t been possible. I miss his laugh and the way our conversations always flow so easily. whenever we hang out, it’s like we pick up right where we left off. and now, as I give up on trying to get one off before seeing him, I start to wonder what to expect. a tour? meeting his castmates?

to be completely honest, I don’t really want to do any of that. I’m sure they’re all very nice people and we’d have a good time, but the last week in the city was so full of group interactions that I’m really hoping to sit across from each other and just... talk.

there’s no point in speculating, though. instead, I glance over at my disappointing toy and sigh. maybe next time.

when I get there, Matthew texts me to wait for him so he can bring me to his trailer. everyone is bustling around, moving according to their own chaotic schedules. a couple golf carts occasionally roll through the space, toting actors and other personnel. it’d be overwhelming for anyone who isn’t used to it.

“Y/N!” Matthew’s voice cuts across the din of the set as he waves. he’s leaning out of the side of a golf cart that he’s driving, which makes me nervous as he pulls up to me. I raise my eyebrows in surprise as he stops the cart and hops out to wrap me in a hug.

he smells good, like expensive cologne and cool air. as he withdraws, he sets his hands on my shoulders and grins at me.

“you look great! how are you?” as usual, he’s talkative. I smile back, though, and take in his appearance. he’s always been handsome, but right now Matthew is looking especially good: the breeze has swept his curls, he’s got on a colorful button-up short-sleeve with parakeets on it, and there’s some stubble growing on his face that’s new. he looks older, more mature.

kind of sexy.

“I’m really well. cool ride you’ve got.” I nod to the golf cart and Matthew laughs.

“you wanna know a secret?” he smirks. I raise my eyebrows and he leans down a little to reach my height. “I’m not supposed to drive that.”

“how’d you get it?” I frown. knowing him, he probably managed to charm his way around the rules, but I’m sure there’s a funny story behind it as well. he’s full of weird anecdotes.

“one of my cast mates distracted the guy who runs the warehouse where they keep them.” he winks, then gestures for me to follow him. I slide into the passenger seat and before I can really process what’s happening, he’s swerving in a wide circle and speeding off.

“I’ve been meaning to call you,” he practically yells over the sound of the motor. “but I know you’ve been busy.”

“yeah, I actually just started writing for this new show.”

“you’re downtown, then?” he glances over with a smile and then we’re slowing to a stop. an enormous trailer sits among rows of other enormous trailers, presumably for his cast mates. he turns off the cart and turns his body to face me while I talk. zeroes in on me in a way that makes my stomach flip.

“for right now, yeah.” I can’t help the smile. it’s been a while since I’ve worked in Los Angeles; I was working as a writer on one of Matthew’s independent films when I got an offer in New York and decided to relocate. and even though it was amazing there, I missed California sunshine and I missed him. we were inseparable before I left.

“so, what I’m hearing is that you’re now legally bound to hang out with me.” he grins in that dazzling way of his. I laugh and nod, climbing out when he does. he opens the trailer door for me. “I have to go back to work in about twenty minutes, but afterwards I wanna take you to dinner.”

“oh, I could have come later. I’m sorry.” I turn to apologize, but he’s quick to wave it off.

“it’s fine. as long as you don’t mind spending an hour in here, it shouldn’t be too torturous.”

I peer around the space, noticing the little ways in which Matthew has made this place his own: aside from all the complimentary gift baskets and notes, the trailer is occupied by strange trinkets that he’s collected, random books and notebooks that scatter the couch and what looks like an attempt at a desk.

“wow.” I say. he sidles up next to me, sighing and realizing that it’s a bit cluttered.

“sorry about the mess. I haven’t really had time to clean up.”

“no, no, I meant ‘wow’ in a good way.” I walk over to the couch and sit down, patting the spot next to me. he smiles, pushes an acting theory book out of the way, and sinks into the cushions a safe distance from me.

“tell me about this job, then.” he immediately starts. I shrug.

“it’s nothing huge, just a teen drama. everyone I work with is brilliant, though.”

“that’s amazing. have you had a chance to work on your art?”

I think back to all the times when Matthew and I would spend free afternoons doing doodle competitions of the crew, usually on random scripts. they were judged by other cast mates, anyone who would take the time to look. I don’t think I was supposed to be on set as much as I was, but it was worth it.

“I wish. my schedule is so busy now, I barely have time to make dinner for myself.” I laugh. he leans back into the corner of the couch, resting his arm on top of the back. I pull one leg beneath me and mirror his actions.

“that’s too bad. I was looking forward to seeing some new stuff.”

“I don’t think any of my co-workers would particularly enjoy the representations I do of them.”

“sour sports.” he says. the strangeness and vehemence of the sentiment makes me snort and I glance at the notebooks around the room.

“how about you? any new masterpieces?”

we go on like this for a while, just catching up and slipping into our inside jokes and memories as if they aren’t from a different time in our lives. although I was excited to see him today, there was a lingering nervousness about it going as planned. sometimes you try to reconnect and the spark is just... gone. but Matthew is still Matthew, and I’m still me.

he ends up leaving to go shoot sooner than I can believe, time passing quickly, and tells me to feel free to read any of his books or look through his sketchbooks. he never hides anything, and it’s admirable.

once he’s gone, I settle onto the couch with a used Ray Bradbury anthology that I found beneath a bag of sour candies and start to read.

my mind wanders, however, as I try to concentrate on the page. I think about how Matthew looks now, how the stubble makes his jaw even more defined. those wide, hazel eyes that always seem to glitter with enthusiasm. I don’t know if I’m still frustrated from the unsuccessful session with my vibrator earlier, but the thoughts begin to turn over in my mind and mingle with other ones.

there were moments with him that I remember, quiet ones where we’d be about to say goodnight or moments where he’d fall asleep on my shoulder in my apartment, where I’d look at him and consider the possibility. we get on so well, and he’s arguably one of my best friends. distance hasn’t changed that. there are things I would tell him that I haven’t told my other friends.

and when he’d brush against my skin, or grab my arm to get my attention, and my imagination would run wild. heated kisses and closed doors. finding the way to my bed in the dark, his hands on my waist while he crawls on top of me. things that never happened but that I imagined as if they were real memories seared into my mind.

and now, sitting in this trailer with this book and on this couch that smells like him, those feelings return like something lost, then found: rushing, feverish, overpowering. the images come in a flux, his weight on top of mine and his teeth dragging over my tits. on this couch, that’s all I want.

there’s a blush on my cheeks as I drop the book on the floor and undo the button on my pants. it won’t take me long; I can feel how wet I’m getting and I haven’t even thought that much about it. the pent-up excitement from earlier will overtake my senses. he said I have an hour, and this might take ten minutes tops.

as my fingertips brush over my panties, I close my eyes and imagine they’re his. curious, gentle, teasing before reaching below the waistband and cupping me. I whimper, starting to trace over the wet folds of my entrance with an eager hand. it feels good, right, and the heat of my body tells me that this time, it’ll work. my head is full of thoughts of him, and I dip a finger in, clenching around the digits. the heel of my palm presses into my clit and I moan, starting to work myself.

I imagine Matthew coming in here after he’s done and kissing me like he’s wasted enough time waiting; like he can’t wait another second to be with me. my pace quickens at the memory of his hands, veined and strong and sure, pumping into me. taunting me.

“Matthew...” I whine, removing my fingers to circle my clit with a hurried pressure. every second burns across my skin, reminding me that what I’m doing is wrong. I shouldn’t be touching myself in his trailer while he works, especially not when he’s coming back soon.

but it’s hot, too, and the rhythm I create is impossible to resist. I switch between fingering and toying with my bundle of nerves while clenching my free hand in the couch cushion. my eyes are squeezed shut as I get closer to orgasm, the knot in my stomach tightening with every moment.

“o-oh my god,” I hum. “Matthew--”

the sharp intake of breath makes my entire body freeze. my eyes fly open to see the bastard himself standing there, lips parted. he can’t seem to figure out where to look: my face, which was just contorted in pleasure while I moaned his name, or my pussy, which is almost completely on display now that I’ve managed to push my jeans down to my knees.

“oh my god.” I stutter, immediately removing my hand and sitting up. my cheeks are on fire and everything around me seems surreal. this can’t be real. “y-you weren’t supposed to be back for an hour.” I say stupidly. shit ton of luck that hour did me.

“we, uh, wrapped early.” he averts his eyes, then glances cautiously at my face. “I promise I walked in here before I knew. I never meant--”

“no, it’s fine.” I pull up my jeans, still too shocked to make any sweeping movements. he doesn’t seem quite sure what to do with himself, and I speak to break the silence. “sorry, I know I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I wonder what you’d have done with an actual hour.” he says it like he’s attempting to lighten the mood, then winces as he realizes that he shouldn’t have said that. “sorry, bad joke. I’m just-- surprised.”

“Matthew, I’m so sorry--” I start. there’s literally no other direction to take this conversation. I feel like I’ve ruined our friendship within the span of a few seconds.

“were you saying my name?” he asks, eyebrows slightly raised. I would like to sink into the floor and never come up again, I think.

“well, the thing is--” I take a deep breath. “I don’t normally, um... do that in people’s trailers?” my frown makes him smile a little as he relaxes. now that I’m fully clothed, he doesn’t seem so daunted. I scoot up on the couch and glance between the open spot and him to get him to sit. standing only makes it weirder.

he obliges, watching me pull my knees into my chest before I start to explain. guilt is building in my chest now, so much more real after being caught.

“I don’t wanna make this even more awkward than it is, but I feel like I should make it clear that there’s a reason why I was doing it in here and I’m not some freak who, like, contaminates people’s space. like, I was just gonna be super quick about it and be done because-- and now I’m justifying it, which is even worse--”

“hey, Y/N, relax.” Matthew reaches out and touches my wrist, his fingers soft as they pull my attention to his. when I finally muster the courage to look him in the eyes, he’s got a small smile on his face. “I’m not mad or anything.”

“okay.” I sigh, spine going a little less rigid.

“you were moaning my name, though, right?” he smirks. my eyes widen.

“don’t get too cocky,” I try to play it off. “I haven’t been able to get off for the past few days and I only tried it to see if it would work.”

“looks like it did.” he glances between my flushed cheeks and the hand that was playing with myself, which is now sitting on my jeans. how is he being so fucking smooth right now?

“whatever.” I turn my face away, knowing that anything else would be damning.

“are you still... frustrated?” he asks. his voice is low. my face snaps up, jaw dropping. one of his hands is covering the crotch of his jeans, trying to hide something.

“why?”

“I can help you out. only if you want to, of course.” he says this in complete seriousness. my gaze passes over his features once again to make sure I’m not absolutely dreaming. every line in his face, the intensity of those pretty irises, feels too real to be fake.

“like...” I think about his hands, about what he’s offering. it’s heavier than just sex, but also maybe not. it doesn’t have to be; we’re adults. our friendship wouldn’t be shattered by one encounter.

“like I’ll eat you out right now and fuck you until you can’t take it anymore.” we’ve moved closer on the couch, our faces inches apart while he says it so quietly that I wouldn’t hear it otherwise. the way he licks his lips, stares at me, tells me that we’ve already passed the point of no return. there’s no use in holding back anymore.

“mhmm.” I nod. if I say anything more, I’ll reveal more than he wants to know. that I’ve wanted this for a while, even though I tried to forget the way he makes me feel.

“come here, then.” he beckons me forward and I impatiently crash my lips to his. he responds immediately, threading his fingers through my hair and pulling me to him. he’s greedy, but not in a way that overwhelms. like he’s trying to enjoy the moment. his nose brushes my cheek when he deepens the kiss, my hands looping around his neck. he begins to bite on my lower lip, tugging to get me to moan. I let him explore me, those features that he’s seen so many times but has never touched.

we’re hopeful in our embrace, and my mind feels like spring and how I imagine the earth feels when it’s in full bloom. excitement in my veins as we get more heated. when his fingers unbutton my jeans, he pulls away to take a moment.

“sit on my face.” he breathes out, feverish. I nod, getting up to shrug off my jeans. he watches, licking his lips when I pull down my panties and step out of them, then take off my top and bra. he leans back as if to sink down onto the couch for me, but I shake my head.

“take off your clothes first.” I tell him.

“you wanna see me naked?” he knows the truth, but wants me to say it. the smirk on his face makes me annoyingly aroused. I just start to go for the buttons on his shirt.

“yeah, I wanna see you naked.” I reply. this makes him grin and he helps me out by working on his jeans. we strip him down and then we’re both there, looking at each other.

“c’mere, beautiful.” he grabs my hip and pulls me closer until I get on the couch and position myself. he lies down flat, gesturing for me to scoot up his chest until my core is right above his face. “perfect.”

I’m about to poke a little fun at him for being so confident when he reaches up, wraps his hands around my thighs, and pulls me down against his face.

I yelp, overwhelmed by how he moans against my heat and starts to eat me out. his tongue moves expertly, lapping at the wetness that’s gathered between my legs before teasing my entrance. I release a series of noises that are downright sinful, but the red marks he’s leaving in my thighs tell me he’s loving my reaction. his nose brushes against my clit and I start to roll my hips against his face, falling apart already as he switches between sucking, licking, and sliding his tongue inside me. I grip onto his hair, mumbling like a prayer.

he takes the opportunity to quickly slap my ass before returning to my thighs, burying his face and working with a divine acuity. I can’t believe how good it feels, throwing my head back and arching my spine while I hold my tits. Matthew moves my hand and massages one while he stares up into my eyes, lust evident in every sound and motion.

“Matthew, please--” I gasp. “don’t stop.”

he groans, running his nails down my stomach while I ride his face. I’m needy for him, only uttering his name and more pleas for his tongue. and the sensation of him holding me down like he can’t get enough makes the knot from earlier return easily. I lean back a little, swirl my hips, and then it comes like a white-hot wave.

“oh my god—“ I can barely get it out, moving with abandon. “it’s so fucking good.”

he lets my body slow to a reasonable pace, drawing out the high until I’m swallowing all the air I can get and pull myself away from him. Matthew’s grinning, mouth glistening while he sits up a bit.

“such a wet little pussy.” he tells me, licking his lips. I’m pretty much resting on his chest and I start to move off of him when he quickly straightens himself, wraps his arms around my waist, and pushes me so I’m laying on my back at the other end of the couch with him leaning over me.

I brush his curls out of his face, appreciating the hunger in his face. he craves more of me, and the erection he’s pressing into my inner thigh is proof. I look up at him.

“you’re good.” I concede. he shrugs, smiles. butterflies.

“I just think about it a lot.” the response is simple, but it’s the right one. I blush and he grabs his dick, pumping it a few times before lining it up at my entrance. I search his eyes, those widened pupils, as he shoves into me.

“shit.” he moans, jaw dropping once he’s reaching the hilt. “give it to me, baby.” I can feel him deep inside, cock twitching against my walls as he settles. one of his arms is over me, supporting himself on the arm of the couch, while the other holds my waist.

I don’t speak, only bite down on my lip and whimper through the initial shocks of him. it isn’t until he pulls out that I get more vocal. he starts to roll his hips, never breaking eye contact while I arch my back and moan.

“harder.” I whisper. he tightens his grip on me and slams himself inside. my body instinctively moves up away from the pressure, but he brings me right back down.

“is this what you were thinking about?” he breathes out. “me fucking you like a slut?”

I nod urgently, but he uses an index finger to tilt my face back to his.

“tell me who you belong to, little slut.” his tone is low, laced with lust when he bites his lip and watches my reactions to his cock.

“you.” I whine quietly, grabbing his shoulders for stability while he plows into me.

“louder, sweetheart. you were plenty sure before.” he mocks, pausing after to moan in my ear like he’s absolutely losing it. he roughly tugs me further against him and the sensation makes me cry out.

“y-you-- fuck!”

“c’mon, baby.” he pants. we’re definitely rocking this trailer with the way he’s ramming my body right now. I can feel him like he’s in my ribs.

“Matthew, oh god--”

“show me how you cum, Y/N. lemme see you fucking break.” the final word is punctuated by him bottoming-out within me, his noises their own stimulation to my senses. I’m trying to breathe but it’s so hard with all the thoughts firing in my brain. he doesn’t go easy on me.

“I’m cumming.” my hips jerk up into his, pussy fluttering like it’s trying to push him out. but the tension only makes him thrust harder, further, chasing his own release as I claw at his back and squeeze my legs around his torso.

“can I fill that tight little cunt up, baby?” he moans into my ear, our bodies like undulating waves. I nod and buck against him, which drives him mad as his thrusts get sloppier. we’re filthy together and it’s otherworldly. “good girl.”

he lets out a whimpering sound while he stills inside my body and cums. I feel him twitching, shooting his load into me. I’m writhing while I clench around him, both of us falling apart. for all his cockiness, he’s lovely when he’s orgasming-- mouth open, eyes rolling back into his head before focusing intently on my face, a sheen of sweat that glows on his cheekbones.

when he finally withdraws, leaving me naked and panting on his couch, his eyes run over my body appreciatively.

“that help?” he smirks as he straightens. I glare at him, kneeing him in the ribs, and he leans down to kiss my cheek, giving me a tender look. “I’m joking. are you okay?”

“more than okay.” I smile. he doesn’t say anything for a moment, closing and opening his mouth as if debating whether or not to say something else.

“you’re really beautiful, you know that?”

“thanks.” as if this man hasn’t already fucked me senseless, I blush, look away shyly. he grabs my clothes from the floor and hands them to me.

“do you want some water?” he’s worried about giving me space. there’s a question lingering between us that I’m afraid to ask, especially now that he hasn’t. Matthew has always been the more bold between the two of us.

“uh, sure.” if it means he takes his eyes off me long enough for me to regain my bearings, yes. I watch him pull on the rest of his clothes before standing and going over to his mini-fridge. I’ll need to clean up soon.

“so...” his voice is measured, hazel eyes slipping over my form.

“so.”

“dinner? and then breakfast?” he suggests. my eyebrows raise at the second question, one that he hasn’t mentioned until now. the implication makes me laugh.

“you think you’re getting this again?” I try to act nonchalant, as if I’m not already imagining it.

“oh, wait--” he frowns, hesitates. “that’s not what I meant.”

“what did you mean?” there’s a grin taking over my face, hopeful as I await his response. I guess we’re about to answer that question after all.

“I wanna finally take you on a date.” he smiles softly, surprisingly shy. I don’t even hesitate to answer.

“I’m in.”

#mgg smut #mgg #matthew gray gubler #rpf #criminal minds #mgg oneshot

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todoscript · 4 years

Text

Work of Art

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader genre: smut. word count: 3.6k+ warnings: 18+. shibari. bondage. submissive bakugou. dominant reader. begging. praising. bakugou being a little bit of a brat?

anonymous requested: okay but what abt.. submissive bakugo👉👈 him being all bratty and shuts up when you deny him—

author’s note: ohhh boyyyy... submissive bakugou really got me writing more than 3k’s worth of filth haha, but i hope you enjoy! shoutout to my gals, rosie ( @shoutogepi ) & val ( @shoutodoki ) for indulging with me during our talks about sub bnha boys

“Hmm, I don’t see why you’re so against this,” your voice sounds out, and Bakugou immediately perceives the saccharine dripping upon every word, a lilt of a smile dancing on your colored lips, painted in a vivid rosy red pigment that only enhances your seduction. Despite how sweet you sound, he knows that underneath that layer of sugar lies a venom waiting to intoxicate him—ensnare his reasoning and leave him utterly vulnerable to your mischief. As in this moment, you embody every characteristic akin to a vixen, enveloped in the lacy fabric of your black lingerie.

Bakugou sits before you bound to a chair with an intricate network of cordage twined across his naked skin. The patterns and shapes knotted together contrast stunningly against his expanse of hard muscle—reminiscent of paint on canvas. And you tonight are the artist.

“You look so pretty, like a beautiful piece of art…” you say languidly. Each syllable uttered is drawn out in alluring breaths that somehow makes him feel hazy. He grits his teeth at how much that extra flair in your voice affects him, eyebrows narrowing tightly as he fidgets in his seat. His arms and wrists ache from just a simple wriggle, your meticulous work granting him no chance to get free.

“Ah-ah, you’re not gonna get out of this one,” you tease. Right as he opens his mouth for a snappy retort, the words are swooped from under him when your hands begin to trace his naked skin—starting from his thigh, up to his abs, and then landing to his chest, where you make a point to taunt him by dancing your fingertips there before bending down to meet his eyes. Your ruby red lips curve impishly at what you reduced him to. “You can try as much as you like, but I’ve tied the ropes this way so you can’t get free~ Don’t want you to spoil the fun after all,” you sing. Fully aware of your boyfriend’s strength built upon many years of arduous hero training alongside that powerful quirk of his, you made sure Pro Hero Ground Zero would not turn the tables on you in his haste for pleasure tonight.

Thus, his usual brash exterior dwindles in the face of your ministrations when you play with the rope a bit more. When he notices your eyes descend to his angry red cock that stands firm amid the knotwork surrounding it, his impatience builds. Bakugou wets his lips, finally ushering some words out from his dry throat.

“Fuck… Stop stalling already…” he tells you, voice borderline on a plea, but his remaining pride pushes the inflection back in hopes it resembles even a lick of his regular gruff tone. Your hums in reply don’t entail much, other than the fact you’re still prolonging his needs.

“Stalling? Who said I was stalling?” You feign ignorance before deciding to take a seat on him, straddling his thighs. “I just want to admire my work of art a bit more… I did a pretty good job—” your hand suddenly comes to his cock, fingers coaxing its hardness that makes his breath hitch, “don’t you think?”

For once, Bakugou’s scrounging for words at the sudden contact. He’s not used to being so speechless when it comes to passion in the bedroom with you. If anything—moaning and yelling aside—he regards himself the more vocal one between the two of you, his dirty talk and crude language a routine he always enacted to get you hot, bothered, and oh so ready for him. However, the shibari ropes braided across his body press a button that spurs him to be so… submissive.

God, him and “submissive” do not belong in the same sentence.

He thinks this, and yet the aesthetic arrangement on his skin emphasizes his sensuality and vulnerability, and it somehow makes arousal wholly envelop his cock.

“Well?” You bring him back to the situation at hand by thumbing over the slit of his length, slick with his pre-cum. The touch causes a groan to slip past his lips. “I asked you a question, Katsuki.” You stroke his length up and down for every word, stopping right at the end and leaving his cock weeping for more of your touch, strained by the rope.

“Ah, f-fuck—” He internally curses himself for the stutter. Glancing at you, he heeds the smirk that still hangs proudly on your red lips.

Boy, does he itch to wipe it off your face with bruising kisses and have wanton moans singing from them when he pounds you into the bed. To his dismay, however, that itch remains unreachable thanks to your painstakingly elaborate composition. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, this shibari shit you performed on him was executed with great attention to detail for him to be left so aroused and unable to break free in this damn chair. But would he ever say this to you out loud? Hell no. So he settles for defiance instead.

Bakugou looks you straight in the eye with a smug expression plastered on his face. “Hah, is this supposed to impress me? Seems like a bunch of amateur work to me, babe,” he scoffs boldly, earning a raised brow from you at his attitude despite the position he’s in. Perhaps he needs a reminder that no matter how much he squirms, he isn’t getting a sliver of authority tonight.

“Is that so?” You jab, finger looping around the cordage tied across his collarbones to pull him forward in his chair. His face is so close to yours; he can feel your breath on his lips and smell the enticing fragrance of your perfume. It’s an off-beat mix of rose and jasmine that gets his blood pumping from just a whiff. “I don’t think you truly understand the position you’re in right now, Suki,” you muse sensually, lips tugging back into a smirk that has him second-guessing his actions, “I just need to remind you then.”

At that, your hand immediately falls to his cock, stout and weepy with pre-cum, capturing Bakugou’s attention. He groans wantonly while you stroke it. Dropping to your knees, you watch as your ministrations evoke bliss into his cock from below. You can tell without even glancing at him that he’s biting his tongue to suppress his obscene noises. However, the increasing volume in his voice betrays him.

“Agh, fucking goddd—” he drawls beneath his breath when you decide to pick up the pace with your hand, applying the right amount of pressure that had his walls slowly cracking in front of you. The strain on his body from the ropes heightens his lust. Bakugou tugs on the restraints in the fit of pleasure building inside him.

“Hm well look at that. You were so bold before, but now look at you—” Your other hand goes to fondle his balls, the extra sensation making him buck in his seat, “a hard, aching mess at my touch, isn’t that right?”

“Ugh, if you—fuck—think I’m going to give in— Haaahhh...” His words are a jumbled mess. Bakugou leans against his seat, tossing his head back while involuntarily rocking his hips into your hand.

“What was that? Couldn’t hear you over your moaning and groaning,” you mock, watching his brows knit together at the lust consuming his being. His panting comes out ragged while he gasps for air, thighs flexing at the fire coursing through his body that teeters on a tightrope. However, before he can reach his high, the sensations are ripped away when you quickly remove your digits from him, recognizing his imminent release.

Bakugou shoots his eyes open. A sharp shift in his seat has the chair’s legs scraping against the floor. “What the hell?!” he growls, practically snarling the words out. There’s a wave of anger heard in his tone that you don’t take a liking to. You wag your finger.

“That’s no way to talk, Katsuki.”

“I don’t give a fuck! I was so damn close to cumming! Why the hell did you stop?!” Bakugou yells vehemently with a pierce in his red eyes. You run your hands on his thighs as you lean up to return the look.

“Y’know if you’re going to act like this—act like a brat—I might as well just leave you here and not let you cum at all tonight, hm?” you threaten, and the notion brings his temper to an immediate silence. The idea of you keeping him bound to this chair while his cock cries for release is enough to diminish his poise. He sinks in his seat submissively when you inch closer, eyeing the bright red of your painted lips that curls salaciously with each word you utter to him.

“But if you behave, sit here obediently, and continue looking all pretty for me, I might let you cum. How’s that sound?” you offer.

He bites his lip. It’s like he’s making a deal with a succubus right now, that damn voice of yours coaxing him.

“F-Fine…” he manages to answer. You smile at his compliance before placing a kiss on his cheek. You’re granted a glimpse of the faint, red imprint left on his skin thanks to your lipstick when you detach from him. Almost as if you’ve marked him as yours.

“Good boy.” The praise sends a shiver down his spine as you whisper it into his ear. He watches you descend onto your knees again, gazing at his cock like you’re about to pounce. And god, does he wish you would just do it already, but instead, you choose to prolong him some more and glance at him.

“Now… what do you want me to do to you?”

Really? Did you have to ask this? Bakugou furrows his brows at how you play cloy. “Argh, you already know—”

“I want to hear it from you though,” you interject, leaning forward and running a finger along a prominent vein on the side. His pretty cock twitches at your touch. “Use your words and tell me all the things you want me to do to you, ’Suki.”

Before he can bite his tongue, his mind is already one step ahead of him, blurting out his thoughts shamelessly. “God, I want to be in your mouth. I want you to suck my dick and let me cum in your throat. And then I want you to get up here, ride me to oblivion, and let me paint your pussy so fucking white. Please please please—” He adds in his pleas for good measure, the desire to climax overpowering his pride in the heat of the moment that feeds your ego.

The word “please” has never sounded so dulcet coming out of that usually vulgar mouth of his. Who knew Bakugou Katsuki was capable of begging so well? It’d be an absolute shame not to reward him for his good behavior.

You lick your lips. “There, that wasn’t too hard, was it?” Then you begin acting on his wishes, your tongue making contact with his hard cock, gradually running up the side until you reach the head. Swirling against the tip causes a growl to bellow from his throat, jerking forward when you wrap your lips around the entire head. He watches with lidded eyes as your lipstick begins smearing across his dick, sucking him in like that.

His moans sound frenzied the more his cock inches into your warm cavern. The sounds encourage you to eagerly bob your head up and down his length with your spit collecting in the back of your throat. You adore the way his cock feels in your mouth, so heavy and thick, and especially love the fact that your controlled pace has your man reeling with pleasure, finally letting his unabashed whimpers out. You savor every little sound like it’s your favorite song on repeat, which it might as well be from how slick gathers at your cunt listening to them.

“Shit! Baby, please don’t fucking stop!” he begs, head tossed behind him as you moan your response into his dick, picking up speed. Your hand pumps his shaft a few more times until you bring it down to your panties to move the material aside and rub your clit. The contact sends a tingle through your body that urges you to bottom his cock into your mouth. Feeling your wetness enveloping his cock gratifies every nerve in his body until it ultimately leaves him undone.

”Agh! Sh-Shit—!” he curses, his climax peaking as his white cum spurts inside your throat. You make sure to swallow every last drop, tasting his delicious cream on your tongue as you detach from him with a lewd pop.

Bakugou is still catching his breath by the time you happily wipe your mouth of your excess spit and any lingering drops of his delectable seed, his chest heaving in and out with the red rope flexing at his every movement. A haze clouds his vision from the intensity of his orgasm, but he’s at least able to see you standing before him—lipstick now messy but that mischief in your eyes persisting.

“Sukiiii~ You’re absolutely gorgeous like this—tied up, sweaty, and gasping for air just because of me,” you praise.

“B-Baby…” Bakugou’s tone somehow rings higher than usual. Your eyebrows perk up, the wetness at your core saturating through your panties hearing the shameless little whine.

“Kiss me… please…”

Well, since you asked so nicely…

You straddle his thighs and bring your lips to his own, letting him taste the bittersweetness of his cum from your tongues fervently melding against each other. Soon the makeout session comes to a halt with a quick peck on his lips. He peers into your glimmering expression with an insatiable need, struggling in his bonds as his cock hardens once more at your proximity—skin so warm against him. But your lingerie still obscures him from your real treasures. He wants to rip it off you already.

“Can I get out this damn thing yet?” he asks, quiet yet impatient. You shake your head.

“’Fraid not, Katsuki, I still need to ‘ride you to oblivion,’ remember?” you quote him.

Crap. He does. And surprisingly, there are no objections when you remind him. His silence amid your established authority doesn’t go unnoticed by you as you grin devilishly at how pliant he’s become throughout the night.

As if you’ve read his mind, your hand finds the clasp fastened on your back. “Since you’ve been such a good boy for me—” a simple flick of your wrist undoes the grip holding your bra together, “I’ll reward you for the rest of the night.” On cue, the skimpy garment glides down your shoulders.

Tossing the bra into the void of the bedroom, you can’t help the giggle that bubbles from your lips at Bakugou’s widened eyes aimed at your tits bared before him. He absentmindedly shifts in a vain attempt to lift his hands and grab your mounds, forgetting the rope bound on his arms behind his back prevents him from touching your soft, naked skin.

“Aw, you want to touch my tits?” you chide. Bakugou grunts in response, and you’re amused by the way he turns his head bashfully as if you miss the subtle blush dusting his cheeks. Such a cute little act.

Cupping your hand under his jaw brings his attention back to you. You nudge him so he faces you again, not allowing his eyes to gander anywhere else but on your own.

“I’ll let you do a little bit more than touch…” Your thumb lightly brushes his lower lip, pulling it down ever so slightly, and he realizes what you want him to do.

And boy, is he eager to abide by your desires.

Opening his mouth, he doesn’t hesitate to latch onto your right nipple immediately, tongue poking out around the bud. You hum in content at how passionately he licks and sucks, petting the back of his head and brushing your fingers through his soft blonde hair to encourage him along.

“Ooooh… That’s it Suki… You’re doing so well, sucking on my nipple like that,” you moan as Bakugou moves over to your left breast, giving its twin the same amount of attention. He groans between licks, flattening his tongue and drawing out the sound erotically against your skin. It spurs you to grind your clothed pussy on his erection, earning you his hisses between tugging your nub into his mouth.

In the meantime, your other hand, not caressing his locks, stumbles upon your wetness seeping past your intimates, practically soaking through onto his dick. A few strokes of your fingertips beneath your panties gathers your gossamer-like slick that interlaces your digits together in a web. You tear Bakugou off your bud to hover your glossy fingers in front of him. Right away, he begins diligently licking away at the slippery sheen, moans lewdly vibrating deep in his throat with each swipe of his tongue.

“How do I taste?”

“So fucking good. Shit, I want more,” he says. You grin, flattered by his enthusiasm to devour more of your essence. However, you’d have to put that on hold for another time.

“Hm, not tonight, I’m afraid. I need you inside me right this second.” Your words have pure anticipation sparking through his body. He stares attentively as you lift yourself over the head of his cock, aligning his length into your soaked hole, panties pushed to the side.

“Arghhh…” Bakugou hisses between gritted teeth when the first inch enters, fists clenched around nothing at how tightly you’re squeezing him. Your whimpers accompany him as you adjust to his well-endowed size, a pleasant burn seizing you. Heat sprouts in your abdomen the more you descend on Bakugou’s firm, aching cock, eventually bottoming out with a long sigh.

“Fucking hell, you’re so damn fucking tight—”

If your mouth feels good, then your pussy is practically heaven, inducing him in hot, tight bliss when you start bouncing up and down.

“Ah, Suki, your cock is so big… so hard…Mmph, I love how it fills me up!” you sing, arms wound around his neck, tits pressing against his chest. Having to sit back with nothing to leverage him amid your silky walls pressing around his cock, bursts of mini-explosions crackle in his palms. A musky scent of burnt caramel suddenly invades your senses, making your cunt clench tighter. Bakugou curses at how you hug his length.

“Fuck! Baby, I want you to ride my cock faster! Make me cum so damn hard that I feel it for weeks!”

Even when taking on a submissive role, Bakugou’s dirty talk never ceases to rile you up. You nod in reply, thighs flexed while your tempo on his cock increases to the point where it ensnares both of you in the throes of pleasure. Unable to do much except allow you to work yourself on and off him, he settles for leaning in and capturing your lips, which you respond to earnestly by parting your mouth to let your tongues dance again. A few particular hard drops later cause him to detach himself from you to groan out loudly.

The echo of your skins making firm contact against each other fogs his thoughts. His eyes are half-lidded when they gaze at you. You giggle at his expression—shrouded in pure bliss from his blanketed red eyes to his tongue peeking out of his lips. Caressing his jawline, you tilt his head up.

“Whose good boy are you?” you ask. It takes a second for him to answer.

“Y-Yours…”

You pry on, not letting up for even a second in your bouncing, “Who made you a pretty work of art tonight?”

“You! Fuck, you did!” he cries out, head tossed to the side that grants you access to the beautiful expanse of his neck. Your mouth finds his skin, kisses ascending until you reach the junction below his cut jawline as he continues reeling at the sensations building inside him.

“That’s right, Suki. So good, so obedient. I think it’s time I let you cum, yeah? Let you fill my little hole up with all your creamy white goodness…”

Your pace escalates quickly, not granting a relief of pause until you both begin arriving on the cusp of release.

“Fuckfuckfuck!! C-Cumming—!” Bakugou yells out, your grappling walls milking his twitching cock that surges into his climax. As promised, his cum coats your insides wholly white, stuffing you to the brim that has the heat inside you lurching. It’s right after the apex of his pleasure that your pussy spasms around him, body trembling, and toes curled as you peak into your high. He licks at your nipple arched in front of his face while your cries fill the space of the room.

By the time the two of you settle down in the aftermath of your euphorias, you’re both sweaty, panting messes. Bakugou more so as his head rests against your shoulder, allowing you to pet his hair between your fingers and comfort the tremors still racking through him.

“You did so so well, Katsuki. I’m very proud of you.” You lay a sweet kiss on his temple. Your praises manage to elicit a content hum from his lips while he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. Before you can get up and remove the tight ropes still lining his upper body, Bakugou suddenly lifts his head and meets your eyes, a tired yet devious expression painted on his face.

“Next time, we should tie you up in these things.”

#bnha x reader #bnha smut #bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha imagine #bakugou imagine #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo smut #bakugou katsuki smut

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 3 years

Text

no kisses needed.

JOHNNY ‘COCO’ CRUZ.

MAYANS MC ┃ USEFUL LINKS

❝ request by @blowmymbackout: reader has a co-worker who just won't take the hint that reader isn't interested and has a bf she tells Coco he picks her up from work confronts the man. Coco is a lil jealous. Co-worker facetimes reader while coco has her in this position (sorry if that didn't make any sense)

❝ words: about 1.2k.

❝ warnings: nsfw, unprotected sex, language, voyeurism (????), coco being a little possessive, mention of bodily fluids.

❝ a / n: as always, don’t forget to comment and reblog if you liked it!

You weren't expecting Coco to pick you up from work today, but you guess he has just done it to see who's the fucker trying to flirt with his girl. The guy is uglier than the back of a fridge, and he feels some comfort in it. But not enough to calm down his jealousy. He —better than anybody— knows that you don't care about a pretty face, you care about a beautiful heart, tho. His insecurities come afloat on your way back home, worrying you because he's more silent than ever, not even getting a response when you whisper in his ear how much you have missed him today after waking up alone.

Coming into your house with his face down, Coco leaves his kutte and both helmets on the coffee table, a second before falling onto your sofa. A leg over it, the other flexed to the floor. Your boyfriend looks at you, thoughtful and very concentrated on the way you have to remove your jacket and walk towards his position. You know exactly what's on his mind and that touches your soul. His demons eat him alive with no mercy. Kneeling a leg between his —placing your phone close to his black helmet—, you lean down with both hands on his chest for balance, landing your lips onto his left ear.

“Can you do something for me?” You hum with such a sweet tone, caressing his cheek with the tip of your nose. And you hear him swallowing slowly. ��Fuck me, Coco. I need you so fuckin' much… You can't imagine… Can you do that for me, ah? Can you fuck me so hard I forgot my name but not who I belong to?”

He utters a feral snarl, noticing then that your right hand has made its way to his dick. You grip it over the rough fabric, swinging it with a tortuous pace, fixing your eyes on his. Coco is about to kiss you when you push him down using your left hand.

“I don't want your kisses now”. You whisper accommodating yourself over the delicious rock under his clothes. “I want your dick. I want you to fuck me till I have to beg you to stop”.

How does he manage to roll you down his body? You don't know. But the fact is that, in less than a second, you're lying on your stomach and your boyfriend is removing your sneakers and your jeans. He can't help but lick his lips keenly as he glances at the small spot darkening your panties, the evidence of how wet you are because of him.

“Fuck, ma'...”

Coco rips off the piece of clothing causing you to gasp, while you take off the shirt covering your torso, only leaving the blue bra you're wearing beneath it. He undoes it to throw it to the floor too, sliding an arm under your stomach to make you raise your ass. With his free hand, your boyfriend pulls down his jeans and boxers enough to let his hard cock spring free. He doesn't prepare you. Coco guides his glans to your folds to slam his thick length into your soaked cunt. You moan loud and clear his full name, as he settles his body between your spread legs.

Digging his fingers in your hips, aware that he probably will leave some marks there, he doesn't show any mercy. He hits your guts and your soul once and once with an insane pace that causes you to roll your eyes, nailing your hands on the armrest to find some equilibrium and receive every pound straight to your g-spot without falling over it. Coco is fucking you as hard as you have asked him, blanking your mind and making a mess of your vocals.

And he doesn't stop when your phone starts to ring. The name of your co-worker appearing on the screen. Your boyfriend has the brilliant idea of pulling your hair back by tangling his digits there, bringing his lips to your ear. His other hand grabs your device to put it at the height of your faces, sliding his thumb to answer the video call.

The first thing your partner can see is the pleasure gesture on yours, moaning and screaming Coco's name, not having noticed yet what he is doing until you hear your co-worker calling you.

“Tell him how good I fuck you, ma'”. Your boyfriend demands with such a throaty growl, thrusting his thick and hard length into you, impaling your body against the sofa.

“Shit…” You almost cry. “He fucks me so damn good”.

“That's it… Tell him… Tell him who you belong to”.

You know that he's enjoying it, but you can't answer when your partner hangs up the call. Coco can't help but laugh, tosing your phone to the table, to occupy his hand in a better place. Wrapping it around your throat, your boyfriend forces you to kneel on the cushions, sticking his chest to your back.

“Bet he won't forget”. He grunts into your ear, tilting your head to tuck his tongue within your mouth.

He drinks your pleas, your begs, your gaps, placing your fingers around his wrists, aware that you're not going to last much more because of what has just happened. And he feels it. He feels how your whole anatomy gets tensed with every push to your guts, creating an erotic melody of flesh against flesh. Pulling you down again and gripping your hips, Coco increases the pace of his lungs, giving you more pleasure than you can bear with, still enraged because of that shithead thinking he could have some kind of opportunity with you. You are his. Like your heart, your soul, your thoughts.

“Ah, fuck, baby”. You paint roaring, biting your lips until the metallic taste of blood floods your mouth.

The tickles in your lower belly grow by leaps and bounds, making your heart stop for a brief instant before the orgasm blows out all your senses and the electrical lash roams your back. It takes Coco only two slams more into your soaked pussy to cum inside you, filling you as much as he can press his body against yours. He doesn't feel jealous, nor angry anymore. He simply is too tired after that rough quickly, marking your skin wherever his teeth have reached it.

Loosening his grip bit by bit to pull his wet dick out from you, your boyfriend holds your phone again to take a picture of his warm seed spilling out from your abused lips. A piece of art under his dark eyes. Lying on your back and placing a smooth kiss on top of your head, he shows you the little mess he has done with a proud smile crossing his exhausted mouth.

“Was tha' what you wanted?”

“Uh-huh”. You whisper resting your cheek over your forearms, turning slightly at him. “Did you have fun, Coquito?”

“I always have fun ruining your sweet tight pussy, ma'. I don' even mind if that cabrón wanna come and look the next time”.

GENERAL TAG LIST: @mayans-sauce @peoniarose @destynelseclipsa @band-psycho @myakai13 @petlaufeyson @-im-fantastic- @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rocketqueen @rosieposie0624 @ellyseveronica @Jessprins13 @diaryofkali @ravenmoore14 @starrynite7114 @kenbechillin @miahelen @monkeyluver4546 @sheeshgivemeabreak @jadesamhart @rawrlittlepanda-95 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @katsav17 @skits90s @wildsould1221 @littlekittymeow @tenderclio @badame1240 @regalbanshee

MAYANS MC: @multiyfandomgirl40 @countryash345 @skyofficialxx @lovebennycolonmiguelgalindo @bellisperennis0 @chibsytelford @trulysuccubus @purrrrfect @witching-hour @leathercladmenfics @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @queenbeered @sesamepancakes @gemini0410 @pinguinstudiert @oscars-wifeyyy @meteora-fc @lozaa94 @arveeee @joupym @hanster1998 @missswritings @arana-alpha @lucillewinchester @theocatkov @telfordlowmans

#mayans mc x reader #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #mayans mc #johnny coco cruz imagine #johnny coco cruz x reader #coco cruz imagine #coco cruz x reader #coco cruz

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altcvnningham · 3 years

Text

strings | johnny silverhand

summary: a storm passes through night city, but it isn't that which wakes her. it's the soft sound of guitar strings, being plucked by chrome fingers.

words: 1280

pairing: johnny silverhand / fem v (my v vana, but i avoid physical description, so read the name as whatever you like!!)

content: fluff, mild angst, Yearning™️, johnny plays guitar and it's rly therapeutic

warnings: SPOILERS, death mention, johnny shuts up for once so maybe mildly ooc, idk how guitars work

misc: soooo after listening to this on loop for the last forever, i just needed to vent and get this outta my system. i do use my v's name (vana) in this, but there's no physical description of her, so feel free to imagine v as your own!! also, it's been almost 4 years since i've officially posted any of my writing online, so while this is a little rough and not as detailed as i'd usually like, please be kind, and please enjoy!! (also ao3 link soon maybe but i'm lazy)

***

V doesn’t know what day it is when she awakes, but she does so to the quiet twang of guitar strings.

The metal blinds slide open, aware of her waking, and the morning spills into the room, dim and grey. Rain patters against the glass, and V, with her eyes still closed, curls deeper into the bedsheets to fend off the cold, away from the light towards the dark shelter of the wall. Night City can wait. She’ll enjoy this strange, soft music while it lasts.

Fingers pluck on quietly, nary a breath nor sigh to indicate the person playing. It’s a somber melody, a blue tune teased with the vague, cruel implication of hope, heartbreak, contentment. There‘s something in the way the music seems to move around the room and still the world, something timeless and calm yet so tenderly desperate about it- she feels sad and happy all at once, and suddenly, to be alive- to be dying- seems... a simple, given, painfully temporary thing. It’s a sweet, naïve tune. A fool’s song.

It cuts short.

Razor-sharp static screams in search for a signal. The strumming abruptly stops in response. The radio. It’s automated to switch on when she wakes up.

Then comes a final telltale sigh from the foot of her bed, as some garish pop song resonates brokenly through white noise. Must be a storm, she thinks. Howling wind outside her window confirms it.

A weight rises from the mattress- one that wasn’t there the night before, and V furrows her brows, braving the daylight and turning onto her side to see the figure lifting from the bed.

Chrome fingers curl around the neck of the cheap electric guitar as they prop the instrument back against the bed. A swelling ache closes around Vana’s chest. Loneliness. Separated from him by inches. Feeling without the one bound to the inside of her skull- it's agony.

Johnny. He crosses the room towards the radio in an aimless stride, and he staggers, tired. Vana briefly wonders- occupying her maddened, longing mind with something else- if he’s even capable of feeling that way, or if it’s her own waking lethargy that he feels, that clings to him. It’s usually like that with most things. And he switches the radio off, back arched downwards to reach it. Static finally turns to silence. She sees the thick lock of hair hanging in his eyes, and how he moves it with a careless jerk of his head before sauntering back to the bed again; peculiarly, he’s not wearing the bulletproof vest over his Samurai tank- the projection of the exact same faded shirt she wears now- and without the seemingly invincible façade, he almost looks... normal. Himself, maybe. Of course, when he descends back down to the end of the bed again, the blue glitched fragments of his engram form give him away. Yet somehow, unlike most times, seeing it puts her mind at ease. Not dreaming, at least.

With his back to her, Johnny picks the guitar back up and slings it weightlessly over his knee again. Out of thin air, he materialises a cigarette in his mouth, which wavers absentmindedly between pursed lips as he tunes the guitar and tests each string; Vana watches and remains completely still in her warm, blanket cocoon, not intent on interrupting this rare moment of peace. The rain drums on smoothly. Johnny pauses to pull the cigarette from his mouth. Exhale. Smoke joins in dancing alongside dust motes around the room, and Vana is happy to be alive today.

Johnny adjusts a silver ring on a flesh finger before touching the guitar’s strings again. He hesitates, stops, then straightens himself out before strumming the first note.

And then, it’s as if he loses himself to it- effortlessly playing that same melancholy tune from before without fault, without a sliver of uncertainty. His ‘ganic hand glides along each string with meticulous ease, metal fingers sliding and spreading along each fret, and the bleak light of the storm glints off of each chrome knuckle as he coaxes the music out to fill the quiet. And it's just this. The way in which he messily perfects such a common, mundane art. An ageless, timeless thing. No ugly, restless hand of Night City can snatch this away from her. The way his wrist flicks back with each note, how his hair crowds his face again as he nods slowly along, the heel he fails to notice he’s tapping in rhythm on the floor. For a moment, Johnny Silverhand’s real name lingers like a song in the back of her mind, as distant and unknown as this one, and she wonders if the person at the foot of her bed is him, that fragmented man lost in time.

Alt had said that Soulkiller does exactly by its name, that the soul dies the moment the consciousness is extracted. But watching him now, Vana refuses to believe that the glitched apparition at the foot of her bed is void of that, that same soul that inhabited the real Johnny Silverhand, that this engram isn’t as tangible and complex and real and feeling as she herself is. This projection of him, an amalgamation of every conscious want, need, thought and whim of a man who once existed- and this projection, he wakes up before her, on a morning as cold and grey and miserable as this, and plays a song for no discernible reason at all other than simply wanting to. Feeling like it.

No soul. She could weep- there's soul in every string.

Vana jostles free of the blanket and pushes herself forward, shifting to her knees. Johnny’s old dogtags, a relic of his past that dangle around her neck, clink together with each steady movement she makes towards him- terrified he’d stop playing for even a second- and she sits cross-legged behind him, facing the slender, flexing muscles of his back as he strums. She hugs herself, cold, shivering. He keeps playing. It’s bliss. She’s overcome with a sudden indescribable fondness, so much so that were she any braver in her vulnerability, any kinder to her feeling self, she’d let it bring a tear to her eye.

But Vana can only muster turning her head to the side, and resting her lonely cheek against the center of his back, desperate to feel every single breath that comes and leaves his vague, digital body. Perhaps it’s her own warmth she feels, reflecting back at her from Johnny’s feelings and senses, but she swears she feels him, hot beneath her cheek as though he were flesh and blood. The illusion is just enough that she doesn’t slip through him entirely. Perhaps, this will simply do.

Yes... fleeting as it is, as all things are, this moment is just... okay.

The song ends. Johnny plucks the final string. The chord fades out into a low, droning hum, until all that’s left is the rain on the window, the torrid rolling of the storm, and his calm, firm breaths, moving against her.

She forgets she's dying. And she would happily fall asleep again, right here, with the very thing that kills her, drinking in the song he’s let steep in the silence around them. But he slowly lowers the guitar, his body shifting beneath Vana’s unflinching cheek. Eyes fluttering shut once more, she feels him twist as he turns around, and how he catches her body in slacked repose, and finally- almost as if he wants to, as if he cares- the tangled threading of cold, metal fingers through her hair, towing her under the dark dwelling of sleep once more.

“I got you.”

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neovisioned · 4 years

Text

♡ꜜ lipstick stain﹫jaemin na

she looks so perfect - 5 seconds of summer

pairing : jaemin x reader (f)

genre : smut with little plot, roommate!jaemin, college!au.

warnings : solo masturbation.

word count : +2,5k

synopsis : you leave lip stick stains on your roommate Jaemin’s skin before leaving for the night and he can’t help himself and his hidden feelings. or : “your lipstick stain is a work of art, i got your name tattooed in an arrow heart.”

“Y/N, what are you doing ?”, Jaemin wonders out loud, a small laugh coming out of his lips after taking your expression in. Resting the controller of his PlayStation 4 on his thigh, covered by his light grey sweatpants, your roommate lets his eyes wonder up to you as his game loads on the screen of your shared television. From his spot on the couch of your apartment, he was watching you carefully tap your index on your lower lip, before examining your fingertip with a bit too much curiosity.

“I need to see if my lipstick is going to stay through the night, Jaems.”, you explain like it’s obvious, eyes still on your reflection in the entrance’s mirror. Tapping once again your finger on your bottom lip, you slowly check the makeup you flawlessly applied to your features moments prior. You were going out tonight. Any other night, you would probably go out with your beloved roommate but, you were seeing old high school friends. A reunion organized by teachers you barely kept in contact with and, you unfortunately wouldn’t bring the pink haired man with you. You have to say, you wish you could have him with you. The dress you’re wearing hugs your body, your makeup is flawless if it is not for the said lipstick. You know your presence alone will be able to take some people’s breaths away just like it took your roommate’s. But, having Jaemin with you would’ve sealed the deal. Maybe it was a bit childish, wanting to make people jealous. Can you blame yourself ? You were the first to gush over your roommate’s looks and melt at his sweet and gentleman-like personality. Let’s say he isn’t helping you at all at this very moment, legs spread wide, he isn’t wearing a shirt, abdomen on full display.

“Is that the one you got last week ?”, asks the tallest, eyes quickly going back from his game to your figure. The theme song of The Last of Us Part Two plays in the background, the young man’s eyes get stuck on your exposed neck for a bit too long. Brushing your hair with one hand, you use the other to apply some perfume to the base of your neck. Jaemin has to say, you look good every day of the week, every hour of the day. You look ravishing when you two go out every now and then but, it’s clear you decided to make a lot more today. He couldn’t complain, having a roommate like this but God, he wishes he could come with you at this reunion, make sure everyone understands you’re bound to be his. You hum at his question, unaware of his racing thoughts, remembering the day you dragged him to some makeup store, right after getting your paycheck. Fortunately, he didn’t complain, or maybe you just didn’t listen to his desperate sighs. Regardless, he helped you pick a color, he thought would go well with you after some minutes of thinking in front of the large display.

“Why don’t you just do the thing you do with your hand.”, he asks gesturing to the top of his hand. You and Jaemin decided to live together at the beginning of university and, after some years, he caught on to some things. Like how you had the habit of placing your lips on the back of your hand to check if any product would transfer on your skin. He had a good point, you would. But, you were too lazy to wash your hand after, your nails were freshly painted and you were running late.

“Ugh, I’m too lazy to wash my hand after. We’re also out of tissues.”, you sigh, eyebrows raised. Jaemin was the one who finished the roll and didn’t even think about buying a new one. Looking at the watch adoring your wrist, you quietly smack your lips together, hoping the lipstick wouldn’t leave a mark on the cups and straws at the reunion. You had a…weird hatred for lipstick stains. Jaemin laughs a bit at your antics, leaving his controller on the side. Getting up, he doesn’t hesitate to stand right next to you. Extremely underdressed, he pushes your shoulder with his, checking his own appearance in the mirror. The pink haired man loves annoying you a little bit every now and then.

For a split second, you look over at your friend in the mirror. “We’d look good together”, you think to yourself but, you have to brush the thought away in a flash. See, for the past months, you stopped seeing Jaemin as a friend. And you hated it. You hated how whenever the two of you would cuddle in front of a movie, you’d wish he wouldn’t let go of the embrace to walk to his own, separate room. You started hating the way he’d sing while doing the dishes and while taking a shower. You wanted more and yet, couldn’t see yourself bring the subject up.

“Do it here, we’ll see if it leaves a stain.”, your roommate proposes, taking you out of your thoughts. His finger points at his slightly rounded cheek. Worst thing is, it isn’t the first time that the pink haired allowed you to test your lipsticks on him, he probably knew you were dying to test this one on him too. It happened one time where you were on a rush for work, no tissues or anything else to place your lips on and take the excess product out. Jaemin didn’t mind having a stain as he didn’t have class this morning, he could wash off properly right after and, he gained the guinea pig title. You don’t think twice, grabbing your roommate’s chin between your fingers. Under your touch, Jaemin faces you, angelic face too close to your own. He doesn’t seem to mind either, innocently blinking. There’s a small sigh coming from your lips, one Jaemin doesn’t bring up, like you can’t believe you’re doing this to your crush. You’ve faced it, the growing feeling, blooming butterflies whenever the man would look down at you, whenever he’d smile at one of your jokes. Your lips quickly find his cheek in a loud kiss, a dramatic “mwah” to dedramatize. They trail down without you understanding or processing your actions, placing your lips on his jaw and right under the sharp bone as he willingly tilts his head.

“Oh, that’s a lot...!”, you notice out loud, brushing your actions off, eyebrows furrowed. A mark of your lips was clearly visible of his cheek, another one on the sharp jawline, and the last one in the middle of his neck. Faded, sure, but still clearly visible. “I’m taking it with me, will probably have to do some touch ups, y’know.”, you mumble quickly, grabbing the lipstick before throwing it in your purse. Get out, quick. Jaemin’s eyes are glued on the mirror, not daring to look at you. Pupils blowing a little wider, they expend a bit more at each new stain discovered. His lips are dry, he noticed. Poking his pink tongue out to wet his bottom lip, he slowly parts them, a feeling he knows too well growing in his stomach.

Biting softly on his chest, he nods as he hears you saying something about time and some teacher you’re excited to see. The pink haired doesn’t pay attention, a finger coming to touch the stain on his neck, cheek growing the same color as his locks. Why was he so…turned on by such a simple thing ? Was it the stains, or you ? Probably both ? The marks, proofs of your lips on his skin, he wonders what they’d look like lower, lower. His pants grow tighter, the poor thing has to move to the side and hopefully hide the print on the grey fabric. The heat travels down to his chest, coloring the smooth skin there. His breath gets caught in his throat for a second and he has to clear it to hide the fact, wrapping his wondering hand around his upper arm. It’s aching to wrap around his growing length, release the tension growing, but his line of thoughts gets cut by the loud sound of the front door closing behind him. He didn’t even hear you saying good bye, he doesn’t even know when you’re coming back but all of this, are second thoughts.

His breath grows uneven as he looks around the now empty apartment. When the thought finally registers in this foggy brain, he quickly walks towards his room, the theme song of his game still playing. He doesn’t care to close his door, leaving it slightly open. He can not believe he’s already semi-hard, the young man will never understand the affect you have on him. His mind, his body, it all reacts too quickly to anything you do. From the way you make playlists for his showers and manage to always bend down for the washing machine just at the right moment for him to see by the opened door of the kitchen. Sitting on the edge of his bed, the mattress sinks down under his weight, Jaemin faces the mirror installed right in front of him. Giving him a full view of his body, Jaemin leans back on his hand, his free one wondering on the smooth skin of his chest. With the huge mirror, it was even better. He could clearly see the three marks along his cheek and neck, the last one almost looking like a fading hickey. Oh, how his imagination could wonder so far, so quickly. The young man’s mouth falls slightly agape at how good the color looks on his skin, contrasting with his epiderma. Veiny hand goes down to his bulge, feeling his semi length through the fabric of his pants. His digits wrap around the base, sighing as he teased himself like he knows you’d do too. Lips reddened by his relentless biting, glittering with a coat of saliva, Jaemin’s hand grabs his sheet as the other sneaked beneath the fabric of his sweatpants. Finally giving himself some skin to skin contact he was craving for, though he wishes it was someone else’s. A sigh of relief leaves the pink haired’s lips when he feel his rough hand wrapping around his base, tinted lock falling in front of his dark eyes. His dick feels heavy in his hand, a vein pumping at the side. Ever so slowly, his hand moves up, and down. Drawing the pleasure out, his thumb wipes the small pearl of precum threatening to fall. He uses it for smoother movements, lewd sounds echoing in his room. Mind blurred, focused on the ounce of pleasure he was giving himself, he tilts his head to the side. Jaemin was trying his hardest not to close his eyes, he wanted to see the marks and his skin. He was feeding off of them, letting the most perverted side of his brain make whatever he could up in his daze. A pleased sigh leaves his lips the moment he fully pumps his shaft up and down. They grow faster, pleasure taking over his body, sweat gathering at his hairline and soon enough, he was pushing the hem of his pants down. Entirely exposing himself, his imagination was out of control. He wasn’t picturing his hand, rather yours. Petite compared to his, wrapping around his thick shaft, Jaemin wondered what you’d look like, on your knees in front of him. He knows you’d let your tongue drag up his length just like when you catch a drop of melted ice cream. A grown leaves his lips when he vividly pictures your mouth around him and deep down he knows, he knows you’d beg him to fuck you in front of this very mirror. The sound of skin fills the room, rhythmically. Alongside, his sighs grow deeper and deeper, turning into groans and desperate moans. Jaemin doesn’t care to hide them, all alone in his bedroom. He tries his best to remember the feeling of your lips on his skin, picturing them kissing his neck, down his torso, and his hand pumps faster. Maybe your lipstick would leave a few rings around his shaft, a deep moan coming from his chest at the thought, his eyes screwing shut. “God.”, he whines, his hips bucking against his hand. A gasp leaves his lips as his lips his hips fuck his fist. He pictures you again, seeing you in that dress, how the silky fabric hugs deliciously hugs your body. Wishing he could take it off, he’d probably let the fragile fabric rip under his hands, Jaemin couldn’t help himself when it came to you. He wonders, what does you skin would feel like under his fingers, he knows you’d react in the most hypnotizing way to his teases, he knows he can make you cry his name out if you’d let him. His lip gets caught between his pearly teeth again, drawing blood. The iron taste lingers on his tongue, fighting with the newly made fantasy of your arousal coating his tongue. God, he wishes you didn’t leave, his hand moving faster and faster, chasing his high desperately. “Y/N, fuck.”, it leaves his lips without thinking, he doesn’t care to understand the meaning behind the desperate moan. The blurry image of your body underneath his clouds his mind, made up moans of his name, picturing just how you’d babble because of his cock. God, he wants to hear you moaning, whining, begging. Even better, not being able to form coherent sentence just because of him, coming around his cock because of his, for him. The pink haired loses track as he wonders, getting closer and closer to your climax. His Adam’s apple bobs against the skin of his throat, regular gasp leaving his lips as he mumbles incoherent phrases himself, because of you and, you aren’t even there. He knows he’s about to come, bucking his hips. Letting out a loud moan, his voice cracks towards the end in what sounds like your name, yet again. Jaemin comes in a few short moments, hand never stopping as he milks, giving himself too much pleasure. Zoned out, he pants, a familiar ringing blocking his hearing, some cum on the smooth, slightly red skin of his torso. Jaemin slowly opens his eyes, slightly regaining more coherent thoughts. Chest falling up and down at an irregular pace, he tries to catch his breath as best as he can, a small curse falling from his lip as his strong orgasm fades away. Damp colored hair in front of his eyes, Jaemin tries to comprehend everything, letting his body fall down on his bed. Closing his eyes, his veiny hands half of his face and he doesn’t even bother covering himself. Poor thing only now starts to calm down, hear clearly again. It’s weird, did he turn his game o-.

“Jaemin…? I forgot my wallet.”

His eyes shot open.

#neowritingsnet #NCT-WRITERS #na jaemin #jaemin smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct #nct dream #neovisioned

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gameofdrarry · 3 years

Text

Wizards Hearts Smut Recs: Magic Sex Toys

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here. Players could opt in to an additional suit of 13 cards, all themed around various popular smut tropes.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 Beautifully Unbound by breath_of_mine (tsundanire) Rated: Explicit Words: 54933 Tags: Post-Hogwarts, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Blaise Zabini/Narcissa Malfoy, BDSM, Praise Kink, Dom/sub, Subspace, Safewords, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Blindfolds, Impact Play, Spanking, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Mental Health Issues, Therapy, Consensual Kink, Light Bondage, Angst, Holidays, Young Teddy Lupin, Mystery, Auror Harry Potter, Accidental Bonding, Bonding, H/D Erised 2018, Community: hd_erised, POV Alternating, Telepathic Bond, Gay Male Character, Bisexual Male Character, Dom Draco Malfoy, Sub Harry Potter, Bearded Harry Potter, Dirty Talk, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Gloves, Massage, Sex Toys, Mistletoe, Family Dinners, Misunderstandings, Past Relationship(s) Summary: Auror Potter is sent on a mission to clear out deadly artifacts from a Death Eater Safehouse with Draco Malfoy. What could possibly go wrong? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Three Wishes by PalenDrome (nerdherderette) Rated: Explicit Words: 10161 Tags: Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Godparents, Wish Fulfillment, Explicit Sexual Content, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Hand Jobs, Butt Plugs, Sex Toys, Implied Switching, Light Angst, Humor, Fluff and Crack, Confessions, Auror Harry Potter, Ministry of Magic Employee Draco Malfoy, Be Careful What You Wish For, Thirsty Draco Malfoy, POV Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, H/D Sex Fair 2020 Summary: Draco meets his fairy godmother and is granted three wishes. Unfortunately, they all keep coming back to the same thing. [excerpt]: Pop! "Oh, wow," Vince says, and is that sarcasm Draco hears? "I never saw that coming." "What?" Draco opens his eyes. He's prepared for the theatrics of the puffs of smoke—Vince, despite the sudden career change, was never blessed with an overactive imagination—but what he was not prepared for was the sight of Harry Potter, bare-chested and dressed in arseless chaps, his hands bound and mouth wrapped around a ball gag while lying face down on Draco's sofa. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Four Ds of Apparition (or: Destination, Determination, Deliberation, and Dicks) by eidheann, firethesound Rated: Explicit Words: 36638 Tags: Apparition, Dick JokesAurors, St Mungo's Hospital, Acronyms, Sex Toys, Crude political statements, Inappropriate use of office equipment, Inappropriate use of shoe boxes, Inappropriate use of hats, Misuse of national anthems, Obscene floral arrangements, Seamus's sticking charms, Dicks, cocks, Penises, Willies, Pricks, Phalluses, Comedically large numbers of unattached dicks Summary: After transferring to the Apparition Department, Harry's life becomes one big dick joke. And all his friends are arseholes. So is Malfoy, but what else is new? AKA Harry Potter and the eighteen twenty dicks. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 in advance by M0stlyVoid Rated: Explicit Words: 3563 Tags: Wax Play, Kink Exploration, Safe Sane and Consensual, Gags, Bondage, Blow Jobs, Kink Negotiation, Dom/sub, Dom Harry Potter, Sub Draco Malfoy, Shibari Summary: Draco's been scared of fire since the Battle of Hogwarts. Harry likes wax play. This is how they work together to face Draco's fear and get what they both want. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Have yourself a kinky little Christmas by keyflight790, tsundanire Rated: Explicit Words: 21433 Tags: Drarropoly: A Drarry Game/Fest, Secret Admirer, Secret Santa, 12 Days of Christmas, Consensual Kink, Other Additional Tags to Be AddedSex Toys, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexual Harry Potter, Bottom Harry Potter, Light Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Praise Kink, semi-public wanking, Aural Kink, Dirty Talk, Awkward Harry Potter, Auror Partners, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Draco Malfoy, Masturbation, Masturbation in Bathroom, Work In Progress, Angst, Mental Health Issues, Switching, Cock sleeve, instructions, Dealing with mental health, Tattoos, writing on dicks, praise!kink, non con, brief non con display of nudity, Mutual Masturbation, Public Masturbation, Loud Sex, Unaware Pansy Parkinson, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, Public Sex, Public Nudity, Public Rimming, Sex on Ministry Time, Inappropriate Use of Ministry Time, slacking on the job, These two are so inappropriate, The Writers are having too much fun, This whole thing is NSFW, Consent, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, conversations about consent, Clearly expressed Consent, Potions, Lust Potions, Overstimulation, Orgasm Delay, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Public Hand Jobs, Public Blow Jobs, Face-Fucking, Consensual Sex, Anal Sex, Anal Play, Anal Plug, Writing with your BFF, This is what happens, Harry Deserves a Magical Ending, Draco Deserves Happiness, Dom/sub, This Fic made my life, and cleared my skin, writing this fic made me the happiest, and did my laundry, Art, Digital Art, mzuul Summary: As the holidays loom, Harry feels the weight of everything and everyone he'd lost. Working as an Auror, while exciting hadn't filled him with the same kind of satisfaction he'd assumed it would. It takes one extremely kinky secret admirer to pull out a side of him he'd been pushing away since his youth, and actually make him want to come into work everyday. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Asking For A Friend? by RoonilWazlibMalfoy Rated: Explicit Words: 13734 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Daily Prophet, Drag Queen Draco Malfoy, Gay Harry Potter, Size Queen Harry Potter, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Epistolary, Fluff and Smut, Sex Shop, Sex Toys, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Nipple Play, Nipple Clamps, Blow Jobs, Rimming, Felching, Discussions of Fisting, Gay Bar, Sex Advice Columnist Draco Malfoy, H/D Sex Fair 2020 Summary: Asking for a friend? Don't be shy! I'm Genna Russ with advice! Draco Malfoy, drag queen and agony aunt for the Daily Prophet, is very happy with his life. He loves his job. He loves his drag queen persona. And he loves the fact that the wider Wizarding world doesn't know who is offering them sassy advice with their morning news. When he starts receiving letters from one Harry Potter – letters that are too racy to publish – he does the only thing he can do: he replies. His carefully constructed secret life is at risk of being blown wide open, but he just can't help himself. Draco never did have any self-control where the Prat Who Lived was concerned. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Ligabus Filium by Tessa Crowley (tessacrowley) Rated: Explicit Words: 41534 Tags: Post-Deathly Hallows, HP: EWE, BDSM, Top Harry Potter, Dom Harry Potter, Bottom Draco, Sub Draco Malfoy, Virgin Draco Malfoy, Whipping, Riding Crops, Gags, Dildos, Creative use of Time Turners, Creative use of Howlers, Creative use of Amortentia, Listen it's the running theme of the story ok, it's filthy bdsm smut what do you want Summary: It should be careful, deliberate, but it isn't. Like every other part of their relationship, it happens gradually and then all at once, before they even realize it. And when the little blue threads bind them together, there's no going back. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Obsessions Release by katie_delaney Rated: Explicit Words: 27783 Tags: Deepthroating, Dom Draco Malfoy, Top Draco Malfoy, Dancing, Breathplay, BDSM, First Time Summary: Harry is convinced Draco has given him a love potion, on confronting him he is forced to face an inconvenient truth about himself. Will be very smutty/moderate bdsm, tame in first chapter. Warnings for breathplay. Set during the Half Blood Prince through to the end of the Deathly Hallows. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 in the flesh by M0stlyVoid Rated: Explicit Words: 1462 Tags: Masturbation, Accidental Voyeurism, Roommates, Sex Toys, Loud Sex, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, idiots to lovers, Denial of Feelings Summary: Draco really should have knocked. He's really glad he didn't. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 You Make it Hurt So Good by bangyababy Rated: Explicit Words: 1938 Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Daddy Kink, Spanking, Anal Fingering, Sex Toys, Magical Sex Toys, Punishment, Dirty Talk, Light Dom/sub, Dom Draco Malfoy, Bottom Harry Potter, Safe Sane and Consensual, a bit of fluff at the end Summary: “Harry,” he said, a clear warning. “What are you going to do about it, Daddy?” Draco is in a bad mood. Harry knows just how to draw him out. ❤️ Read on AO3

#drarry #drarry recs #game of drarry #wizards hearts #wh masterlist

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blahkugo · 4 years

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Sunny, my love. Congrats on 1k! You deserve it and more babe! Also, such a fun event, so I had to send one in for you! How about Akaashi in a celebrity AU?

JUNE!!! thank you so much baby♡︎ so glad i met you in the smut pile!! hope you enjoy this one !! (≧◡≦) ♡

-ˋˏ ༻ 光 ༺ ˎˊ-

「 navigation

「 1k event masterlist

「AKAASHI KEIJI」

— celebrity! au

— warnings: 18+, smut, public fingering

⤏ akaashi’s not really one for the glitz and glamour of celebrity life, but being an internationally-renowned author allows for a slightly less harrowing public career

⤏ only slightly less, because once one of his books was made into a film, he was thrust into stardom. also, readers found out what he looked like and he blew up on twitter; i mean, artsy, intelligent, and sexy? it was bound to happen one way or another

⤏ looks aside, his pieces truly are art; from steamy romance novels to essential self-help books, akaashi’s work has all the range.

⤏ when he’s not cooped up in his cute little apartment in paris writing away, he travels the world giving speeches to unis, ted-talks, and the occasional book reading

⤏ it’s at one of these readings that you happen to meet him. you’re wide-eyed and innocent, trembling as you hand him your favorite novel, and he finds it absolutely adorable

⤏ that is, until he looks down at the book you nudged towards him. his mouth goes dry, faltering mid-sentence as he’s suddenly swarmed with impure thoughts

⤏ oh yeah, did i forget to mention? he tried his hand at erotica once or twice

⤏ and he cannot, for the life of him, believe that someone who looks as soft and virginal as you would have the guts to thrust one of his own filthy works right into his face for him to sign— with a shy smile, at that

⤏ so he does what any sensible man would do and writes his number in your book, and you do what any sensible woman would do and text him

⤏ next thing you know, you’re out on a sunset picnic date; wined, dined, and read aloud to— it may just be the sweetest thing a man’s ever done for you

⤏ you enjoy each other’s company long into the night, and he offers to walk you home

⤏ little do you know, your night has only just begun:

Keiji prides himself on being polite and respectful: the perfect gentleman. It’s the only mask he’s shown you, the only one he’s sure you’ll see, throughout the entirety of his planned romantic evening. Heaps of Parisian delicacies, a speaker to set the mood; hell, he even tucked his favorite romance novel into the little wicker basket so he could read to you.

Four glasses of wine in, vision rosy and clouded around the edges, the mask has cracked. As you stroll through the park, hand in hand, he finds himself torn. You seem every bit as soft and bubbly as that day, glazed eyes and a radiant smile plastered across your face. How is it that someone so seemingly innocent can traipse into a bookstore and shove a book of pure filth right into his hands?

So now he wavers in his chivalry, finds himself toeing the treacherous line between decency and degeneracy— wholly unable to send the slightest of glances your way without feeling the blood rush to his cock.

“You’re not at all what I thought you’d be like,” your silky voice cuts through his thoughts. He turns once again to face you and almost wishes he hadn’t; your bottom lip is caught between your teeth, your eyebrows kneaded in confusion as your hazy brain struggles to make sense of your thoughts. It’s absolutely adorable, and it makes him ever the more painfully hard.

“And what did you think I’d be like?” Somehow, Keiji manages to keep his voice even.

“Pretentious, maybe,” you shoot off bluntly, “or impolite, at least.” He simply laughs at the comment, as if the idea is completely preposterous. And it would be, if he could stop thinking about pushing you against a tree, hiking up your pretty little skirt, and fucking your brains out for everyone to see.

But he doesn’t tell you that, of course.

“I could say the same about you,” is what the logical side of his mind comes up with instead. And then, before you can utter another word, “ah, your shoe’s untied.”

You glide over to the nearest park bench and lift a leg to fix it, but before you can bend over— exposing a bit of you that Keiji finds too close for comfort— he’s turning you around and seating you firmly in place.

“You don’t have to–” Shushing you quickly, he bends to tie it himself. He convinces himself it’s the valiant course of action. Truly, he can’t stop his fingers from grazing your calves, can’t bring himself to put a breath of distance between his face and your silky, smooth skin. Would your body tremble all the same if he brushed his digits against your sweet, little bud?

“I thought you’d be less naive,” stuck in a delusional fantasy, the words tumble from his lips before he can stop them.

“I’m not naive!” A spitfire response, though your leg still quivers under his touch. Even so, you make no move to kick his hand as he wraps it tightly around your ankle. So fragile.

“No?” He can’t stop himself now, his mask of chivalry too fractured to hide what lies beneath. “So, what did you think would happen when you brought that piece of filth to my book signing?”

He feels your body ignite, doesn’t need to glance upwards to know you’re hiding behind your fingers— a little lamb caught in wolf's clothing. “Did you really believe I’d think nothing of it?” His lithe fingers inch upwards, scorch your skin further with every touch of skin against skin.

“Keiji, I–”

“Or did you secretly hope I’d touch you?” He dances at the hem of your skirt now, “That I’d call you a dirty slut, bend you over, and fuck you right then and there?”

As soon as your hand shoots out over his, knuckles white as you clutch him, he thinks he’s lost. Perhaps he’s misjudged the situation, wrongfully perceived glossy eyes and a soft smile for lust instead of innocent inebriation. But again, you make no move to halt him, simply staring back at his searching eyes with lidded irises.

“Answer me,” he prods, nails digging into your thigh.

“I- I thought-“ as hard as you try, the words won’t escape you.

Keiji can feel the disappointment shroud you the moment he stands, all pouts and tear pricked eyes. But instead of walking away, he takes a seat on the bench, pulling you onto him so that your ass strains tightly against his stiff member.

“Can you feel that?” He splays needy palms against your stomach, traveling closer and closer to your heat. It’s all he can do not to rip your clothes off, but this is the most gratifying part of his twisted game. “I’m so fucking hard for you.”

The mewl that leaves your supple lips should be illegal, the grind of your hips against him a war crime.

“Please.” And with that soft cry, Keiji can no longer stop himself.

The mask is now long gone, torn off in his lustful haze; the refinement of an honorable man discarded and revealing his vulgar, truer intentions. Fingers moving swiftly, he flips your skirt up and darts beneath your panties to stroke at your slick cunt.

“Who are you this wet for?” His other palm slithers towards your neck, makes its home within the wild pulse beating against his fingertips. When he dips a teasing digit into your folds, he revels in the way you writhe.

“Y-you, fuck, I need you.” As he pumps his fingers into you, you cry out. Your moans ring through the empty park— public decency be damned— doused in caramel and honey. Every dessert Keiji could ever want spills out for him to devour greedily.

As soon as he rubs circles against your swollen bud, you unravel. Cumming with a loud, wanton mewl, your hands jut out, clinging to him.

He takes a moment to slurp at his soaked fingers, releasing them from his mouth with a pop, before kissing at your neck.

Finally released from the shackles of formality, he lets his next question flow freely,

“Should I fuck you against that tree, or do you want to take this back to my place?

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ 光 ⚘ ᠂ ⚘᠃

#1k.event #akaashi keiji #akaashi keji x reader #akaashi x female reader #keiji akaashi #haikyuu smut #hq!!

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natrogersfics · 3 years

Text

After All - Chapter 2/5

Cover art by @faith2nyc Read on AO3

Toddlers are an enigma. That much is clear to Natasha. Compared to infants, they’re leaps and bounds more amusing. But they’re terribly difficult to gauge – they long for independence, yet knowing exactly how much to give without under or overwhelming them is anyone's guess. That limbo in particular is one of the more complicated aspects of parenting she’s learning to navigate, both emotionally and logistically. For as much as she’s excited to see what else is to come of Isabel’s burgeoning personality, there are days where she finds herself longing for the little cuddle bug who willingly gave her its complete cooperation without so much as a peep. And right now, as she sits on the play mat in her living room trying to get a sweater over her squirming daughter’s head, she notes that today happens to be one of those days.

“Mama, ‘nuff!” she hears Isabel protest, her voice muffled by the soft cotton.

“Almost done, fig,” she says as she successfully gets Isabel’s head through the collar. “Tada!” Despite her enthusiasm, Isabel does not look the least bit amused, and as she leans forward to try to smooth the curls on her head that got ruffled in the process, the little girl dodges her hand with artful precision to reach for her blocks. With a shake of her head, she feels for her phone behind her, holding it up to point the camera at Isabel. “Okay, what do you think of this one?”

On screen, Pepper can only sigh. “It looks great. As did the first two sweaters you put on her.”

“But this one is cuter,” she reasons, zooming in on the embroidered flowers at the hem. “Look!”

“Nat,” Pepper says, her lips pressing into a line. “She’s spending the day with her father, not going to meet the Queen.”

“Maybe not intentionally,” she says. “This is London, after all. You never know when you’ll run into Her Majesty.”

“Natasha.” Pepper’s stern tone causes her to bite her lip, and when she musters the courage to look back at the screen, she finds her best friend regarding her carefully. “Are you having second thoughts about letting Steve come out to visit?”

“No,” she says, sighing at the way Pepper narrows her eyes. “I’m not, okay? And even if I was, it’s too late anyway. He’s literally on his way. It’s just- It’s not like there’s protocol for spending Christmas with your…” She puts her hand out, as if doing so would make the end of her sentence magically come to mind. But when you ask someone to have a child with you, and you end up falling in love with them, only for them to break your heart into a million little pieces later on when they don’t reciprocate your feelings, knowing what to accurately call them is complicated, to say the least. She rolls her eyes. “Whatever. It’s just unconventional, is what I’m saying.” Pepper’s lips part to speak, no doubt about her ironic choice of adjective, so she holds up a finger before she can. “Not a word.”

“Okay, okay,” Pepper acquiesces. “Just wanted to make sure that weirdness is the only reason you put my goddaughter through three outfit changes and not… other things.”

“Trust me, Pep, those other things have been pushed so far back into the closet they’re in Narnia,” she says quietly. All her worries that night Steve had sent her a text turned out to be for nothing. She’d expected something big and life-altering, maybe news that he’d moved on and he wanted Isabel there for his wedding, but as it turned out, it was only a request to spend Christmas with them. “Anyway, it does not matter how weirded out I am by the circumstances. I got hurt... Maybe he did, too.” She lets her eyes linger to the mat where Isabel is still happily entertaining herself before shaking her head. “But that’s all water under the bridge now, and when possible, our daughter deserves to be with both her parents for Christmas. That’s why I agreed to this.”

“Well, I’m proud of you for being so mature about all this,” Pepper says. “I know it’s not easy.”

“It is what it is,” she says dismissively, giving Pepper a one-shouldered shrug. It’s only when the doorbell rings that her brave façade slips, her eyes widening involuntarily.

“It’ll be fine, Nat,” Pepper says, offering her a reassuring smile. “Talk to you soon.”

With a two-fingered salute, she cuts the video, placing her phone in her back pocket and stealing another glance at Isabel to make sure she’s sufficiently preoccupied. Satisfied, she huffs out a breath and gives her reflection a cursory glance at the mirror, tucking a tendril of hair back as she makes her way to the front door. She reaches for the knob, putting on her best smile as she pulls it open.

“Hey,” Steve greets, smiling brightly as he stands at her front door dressed in dark jeans and a leather jacket.

“You shaved,” she blurts out, inwardly cursing at how quickly the words had fallen out of her mouth.

To her relief, he chuckles. “Oh yeah,” he says, reaching a hand up to his jaw. “I grew it out again for a bit there, but I know Izzie’s not a fan of it, so…”

“She might be a little more amenable now,” she says, though it comes across more like she’s wondering aloud, so she adds, “not that you need a beard or anything.”

“Yeah, no, it would be nice to get to keep it,” he says, gesturing to their surroundings, “especially when it gets cold like this.” His excitement is palpable as he cranes his neck slightly, as if to peek behind her. “Is she awake?”

“Oh, yes! Sorry, please come in.” She steps aside, opening the door wider to let him through. “You got in late last night, right? How was your flight?”

“I did, and it was okay,” he says as he follows her down the foyer. “The customs line at Heathrow, though, a little less so.”

She looks over her shoulder to shoot him a look of sympathy, knowing full well what that headache is like. “She just got up from her morning nap about an hour ago,” she says as they walk into the living room, and she does not have to turn around to know that the faint gasp Steve lets out is in awe of the sight of Isabel pushing her little vacuum cleaner around before them. “Izzie, baby, look who’s here.”

Isabel looks up at the sound of her voice, freezing in place as her eyes go from her and then to Steve, who steps forward and crouches down, opening his arms as he reaches for her. “Hi, fig!”

A smile grazes her lips when Isabel begins to scamper over at Steve’s greeting, but it quickly fades – as does Steve’s elated expression – when their daughter moves past him to hide behind her legs instead. “Hey, it’s okay,” she says automatically, bending down to collect Isabel, who buries her face into her neck, into her arms. She turns to Steve. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know-”

“No,” he says placatingly, and though he tries to blink away the hurt in his eyes, she catches it all the same. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have assumed-”

“No, you were fine,” she says in her most reassuring voice. “She’s usually really friendly, but her quirks change every day now, it seems.” Steve nods at her, and she turns towards Isabel, dusting a kiss to the crown of her head and rubbing a hand soothingly up and down her back. “It’s okay, fig. It’s just Daddy.” When Isabel looks up at her, she reaches into her pocket, showing her the phone. “We talk all the time, remember? And we read stories before bedtime…”

Isabel looks at the phone in her hand and then at her, her big blue eyes skeptical. “Dada?”

“Yes, yes,” she says excitedly, eyeing Steve over Isabel’s head as she mouths, “talk to her.”

“Hi, Izzie,” Steve says, prompting Isabel to peek shyly at him. He smiles. “It’s me, Daddy. Remember? On the phone we said in two more sleeps we were gonna go on adventures?”

It’s with bated breath that she waits for Isabel’s reaction. The little girl purses her lips, and it’s almost by instinct that she braces herself for a meltdown, but instead, she finds herself nearly sighing in relief when Isabel leans forward and reaches for Steve. “Dada!”

“Yes, baby girl, Dada!” Steve says as he takes Isabel into his arms, standing and beaming from ear to ear when she wraps her arms around his neck. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much!” He kisses her cheek as he moves to settle her against his hip. “How’s my girl?”

“I play!” Isabel exclaims, her words promptly descending into gibberish as she goes on and on.

She watches as Steve nods along amusedly, barely containing his smile as he listens to Isabel talk. “Yeah, so…” she interjects, prompting Steve to look her way. “You’ll get about two, maybe three actual words from her before you have to use context clues and the Science of Deduction to figure out the rest.”

Steve laughs. “That’s about as much as I get from Tony, so I think I’ll manage.”

“Touché,” she says, chuckling when Isabel demands to be put down and stalks back to her mat. She points a thumb over her shoulder. “Can I get you something to drink before you guys leave? There’s still some coffee in the pot if you want some.”

Steve nods, and as they walk the short distance to her kitchen, she notices how he immediately positions himself by the counter overlooking the living room. “Still not a tea person, huh?”

Her expression sours as she begins to pour him a cup, eliciting a laugh from him. “I don’t think the British government will appreciate me becoming a menace to society.”

He smirks as he accepts the mug from her. “How’s work?”

“It’s… going,” she says, shrugging at the questioning look he sends her. “T’Challa, Nakia, and I finally got the company up and running both on paper and digital, but you know how it is when the truth ruffles some feathers.”

“Hmm,” he says, nodding in acknowledgement. “Same S-H-I-T, different continent, huh?”

“She can’t hear you,” she says with an amused smile as she goes to rinse the pot in the sink. “But basically, yes. We ran a piece about a member of Parliament and some of his unsavory practices. Nothing but the truth there, but it’s not being received well, which is why Izzie and I couldn't make it back in time for Christmas.”

“I kinda figured the article would have them clutching their pearls.”

She turns to him, surprised. “You read The Pioneer?”

“Yeah,” he says, “I-”

The unmistakable clang of metal as it hits the ground interrupts him, followed immediately by Isabel’s proclamation of oh no, and that’s enough to send them both racing out of the kitchen and back into the living room to see Isabel standing over the now scattered tin of cookies that was sitting on the coffee table.

She turns to Steve, crossing her arms over her chest. “By the way, she likes knocking things over for S-H-I-T-S and giggles now, too.”

He cringes. “Any chance her vacuum cleaner actually works?”

It’s after the crumbs in her living room are sorted out and they both manage to convince their daughter to put and keep her shoes on that she stands outside her front door, watching as Steve swings the baby bag over his shoulder and picks Isabel up.

“Anything else about this one that I should know before we go?” Steve asks, jostling Isabel slightly in emphasis.

“Let’s see…” she says, “well, she hates socks with a ferocity. I did you a solid by getting them on, but if for any reason you have to take them off, know that you’re never going to get them on again. Also, nine times out of ten her answer to anything is no, so use your discretion when seeking her opinion.” Steve’s lips part, but before he can speak, she adds, “Oh, and she’s on a hunger strike. I’m told it’s just a phase, but hey, if you can get her to eat, more power to you.”

Steve stands there, blinking once and then twice. “Okay...” he says, turning to Isabel. “Well, don’t you sound delightful.”

“No,” Isabel says with a shake of her head.

“You sure you don’t want to take the stroller?” she asks when Steve’s face falls at their daughter’s swift reply, and she has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

“Nah, I think we’ll be fine,” he says. “I’ll have her back in a few hours.”

“Sounds good,” she says before waving at Isabel. “Bye, Iz! Have fun.”

“Bye!” Isabel says, waving back.

She waits for Steve and Isabel to walk down the block, and once they disappear from her vantage point, she returns inside, letting out a breath and feeling a lot more at ease than she did when she had woken up this morning. With any luck, maybe this didn’t have to be the debacle she thought it might be.

He should have taken the stroller.

The thought loops continuously in Steve’s mind as he lengthens his strides along the cobblestone paths of Kensington Gardens in an attempt to keep up with his daughter. “Izzie, slow down, babe!” he calls out, half in astonishment at seeing Isabel zoom past him with ease and half in anxiousness over the uneven grounds beneath their feet. The plea only spurns her on though, and he finds himself chuckling under his breath when she attempts to run. “Come here, you little daredevil!”

Isabel dissolves into a fit of giggles as he collects her in his arms, lifting her to him to pepper her face with kisses. “Dada, no!”

“You keep this up, you’re gonna scrape your knees,” he tries to explain though he knows it’s an exercise in futility. If there’s anything he’s learned in the last couple of hours since they left Natasha’s flat, it’s that trying to reason with his eighteen-month-old is practically like talking to a wall.

“Walk,” Isabel insists, blinking up at him as if he hadn’t said a word. But then she smiles, the type that spans so wide it reaches her eyes and bares all her milky white teeth that his heart is helpless to do anything but melt in his chest.

“Fine,” he says with a sigh, ignoring the teasing he can hear in his head from everyone in his life about how easily he’s charmed. “But you have to hold Daddy’s hand, okay?”

“‘kay,” Isabel says as he puts her back down on her feet, and he can’t help but grin when she offers up her hand for him to take.

By the time they make it to the Italian Gardens, Isabel tires enough that she does not protest when he picks her up to get a better view of the fountains, and as she points to every little thing that catches her attention and narrates her thoughts to him, he’s relieved by how quickly she’s readjusted to his presence. There was a part of him that had anticipated her skepticism of him this morning – for as much as they FaceTimed three times a week, he knows that it’s still not a substitute for her seeing him every day – though he has to admit that the way she had run to Natasha as if he were some stranger still stinged. Heartbreak is something he knows a little too well, but being rejected by his own daughter is one type he hopes he’ll never have to experience ever again.

Luckily for him, that doesn’t seem to be in the cards any longer. Isabel’s been nothing but receptive to him since they left, and for his part, he’s been all but entranced by every new facet of her personality that he’s discovered. She’s still the same precocious and affectionate little girl he remembers from six months ago, only now she’s more gregarious, and he can’t recall having laughed as much as he has since they’ve set out together this morning.

“Look!” Isabel says, and as he turns his gaze towards the direction her finger is pointed in, he makes out one of the urns of the Tazza fountain.

“Do you know what that is?” he asks, observing Isabel’s reaction. Though it’s been a while since he’s been able to spend this much time with her, he realizes that despite her evolving personality, there’s a familiarity to her mannerisms and proclivities, and that’s because it’s so inherently Natasha – much like the way her nose is scrunched up now as she tries to answer his question. But there are also parts of himself that he’s found in her in the last couple of hours, such as the way her shoulders sag in defeat when she’s being reprimanded, and he finds some comfort in the reminder that regardless of the time they spend apart, they’ll always be intrinsically connected.

Isabel turns back to him, her eyes growing wide with excitement. “Do-phin?”

“Yes, baby girl!” he says, earning a squeal of delight from Isabel when he kisses her cheek. “You’re right, it’s a dolphin. Good job!” He turns away from the fountain, reaching behind him to fish his phone out of his pocket and opening it up to the camera. “Okay, now smile so we can send grandma a picture.”

“No!” Isabel says immediately, turning her face away.

He puts his phone down, chuckling. “You win some, you lose some.”

The next day, he pretends not to notice Natasha’s I-Told-You-So expression when he asks for the stroller before he and Isabel set out on another day of sightseeing. Yesterday had been a real eye opener for him in terms of getting to know his daughter’s quirks, and as he pushes Isabel through St. James Park, he revels in having been better prepared this time around. While he hadn’t succeeded in getting pictures of her facing the camera on their previous outing, he’s certain and feeling a touch triumphant at having taken enough today to satisfy both his family and his friends in their respective group chats. The trick, he learned, lies in phrasing the idea of taking the picture to Isabel in a form of a question instead of a command. It seemed silly, but as he’s learning, such is toddler logic. Plus, in the end, the elaborate charade of it all is worth it if it meant sticking it to Bucky for harping on his photography skills.

It’s when he and Isabel are walking out of a restaurant two days later that he hears his phone ring, and as he looks at the name flashing on the screen, he pushes the stroller to the side, turning it until Isabel is facing him. “It’s momma,” he mouths to Isabel, who looks up at him, before bringing the phone to his ear. “Hey, we’re on our way back.”

“Hey,” Natasha says, and his eyebrows immediately furrow at the exasperated sigh that accompanies her greeting. “That’s actually why I’m calling. I ran into a problem at work and won’t be home for another hour or two and I know it’s almost her bedtime. Do you mind staying with her until I get back?”

“Yeah, of course,” he says. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, just need to sort something out here sooner rather than later,” she says. “But are you sure you don’t mind? Because I can get-”

“Natasha,” he interrupts. “I’ve got her. Do what you have to do.”

“Thank you,” Natasha says, gratitude thick in her voice. “I’ll be home as soon as I can, but make yourself comfortable and help yourself to whatever’s in my kitchen if you want. But also maybe try not to judge what’s in it, yeah?”

“Duly noted,” he says with a chuckle, thankful that such is the rapport they’ve built since he arrived that she’s comfortable enough to joke around with him. “Oh, but before you go.” His eyes fall to Isabel, who’s busying herself with her new Beefeater doll, before he shakes his head. “Do you have a hair dryer I can borrow?”

A sigh slips from Natasha’s lips when she walks into her flat and haphazardly rids herself of her heels, shoving the pair off to the side as she makes her way down the foyer. The living room is empty when she enters, and the first thing she notices is how much neater the space looks – gone are the toys Isabel had scattered around, and for once, the throw pillows on her couch actually align properly. But when her gaze falls to the recliner on the left and then to the black coat draped over the back, all her questions are immediately answered.

“Steve?” she calls out. “You in here?” When she does not get a reply, she steps further into the room, suddenly becoming aware of the whirring sound coming from down the hall. She decides to follow it, and when it leads her to the open doorway of the bathroom, she can only chuckle as she peers inside. “So that’s what you needed the hair dryer for.”

Steve whips around at the sound of her voice, a startled expression on his face as he holds the dryer in one hand and his shirt in the other. “Oh hey,” he says, thumbing the dryer off. “Uh… sorry, I didn’t hear you come in over the noise.”

“Well, if I’m being honest, I’m a little disappointed,” she admits, smirking when his face twists in confusion. “When you asked to borrow my dryer, I was hoping it was because you gave Izzie a bath and decided to give her a fabulous blowout.”

“I did give her a bath,” he says, a tinge of indignance in his voice as he points to the tub. “But I also had to give my shirt a bath on the account of the little rascal throwing her spaghetti at me.” He shoots her a withering look when she throws her head back, cackling. “Ha ha, very funny.”

“Yeah, probably should have warned you about that,” she says, rolling her lips in an attempt to taper her laughter. “She asleep already?”

“Got her down about a half hour ago,” he says.

Though she already knew the answer, his confirmation still evokes disappointment in her. “I’m gonna go kiss her goodnight,” she tells him, turning and making her way towards the end of the hall. Isabel’s room is dimly lit by her night light, and carefully, she tiptoes towards the crib, bending down to press a kiss to her forehead. For a moment, she allows herself to just watch the rise and fall of her daughter’s chest, letting the peaceful image wash away the fatigue from her day. Then with sigh and a final glance at her, she exits the room in search of a much needed nightcap.

The kitchen tiles are cold under her feet as she makes a beeline for the fridge, and as she pulls the door open to inspect its contents, she hears her name being called out. “Kitchen!” she yells back. The sound of footsteps coming her way is the only response, and she looks over her shoulder in time to see Steve appear by the frame, his shirt back on and its sleeves rolled past his elbows. “Want a beer?” she asks, only to silently admonish herself when she sees the way Steve’s brows shoot up in surprise. “I’m sorry, I’ve kept you long enough, haven’t I? You probably have things to do-”

“No,” he interrupts, clearing his throat as he straightens his stance. “A beer would be nice, actually.”

She smiles. “Stella still good with you?” When he nods, she turns back to the fridge, grabbing two bottles before using her foot to shut the door. She twists off the caps before handing the other bottle to him, and when he mutters a thank you, she nods towards her living room.

“So let me get this straight…” she hears him say as she plops down on the couch and he takes a seat on the recliner. “You’re still a coffee addict but no longer a vodka fiend?” He clicks his tongue. “Gotta be honest, I always thought that if one had to go, it would be the coffee.”

“First of all,” she says, propping her feet up on the coffee table. “I would never give up either. But gun to my head, it would be coffee, yes.” She lifts her bottle up as if to inspect it. “Vodka is still my poison of choice. I just haven’t had the time to replenish.”

“Bad day?” he asks as she takes a long swig from her bottle.

“You don’t know the half of it,” she groans, placing her bottle down to dig the heels of her hands into her eyes.

A beat passes before she hears him ask, “Wanna talk about it?”

Her eyes blink open in surprise, and she turns to look at him. “You really want to hear about work stuff?”

“Only if you want to talk about it,” he says with a shrug.

For a second, she can only sit there, blinking as she contemplates his offer. In the last few days since he arrived, they’ve been cordial enough with one another that asking him to stay with Isabel as she sorted out some pressing issues at work tonight didn’t feel like that big of an imposition. Now here she is, commandeering more of his time by inviting him to have a beer with her that, surely, it would be rude of her to unload on him about her harrowing workday, too. But as she turns back to him, the earnestness of his expression convinces her to throw caution to the wind. She sighs, sinking further into her seat. “It’s just a lot of… bullshit,” she says, leaning her elbow on the arm rest as they both laugh at her word choice. “The member of Parliament I was talking about a few days ago? This morning he threatened to sue us for defamation.” Concern paints his features at her words, but she’s quick to wave it off. “We already talked to legal about it. It’s all a power play. With the amount of evidence we have to back up our claims, he does not have a case.”

“Then what’s the problem?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” she says, looking up at the ceiling. “Once upon a time, I would have found intimidation tactics like this a fun challenge... In fact, I lived for these hurdles. I liked knowing my work was keeping people like him up at night, because it meant I was hitting at the truth. But nowadays?” She shrugs, looking back at him. “I guess the exhaustion just sinks down to the bone a little more… and it’s not that I don’t love my job, I do. Becoming editor-in-chief has always been on my career bucket list and I know I’m very fortunate to be where I am today. It’s just that checking every little thing off of that list isn’t everything to me anymore.” She nods towards the hallway. “She is.”

“No, I totally get it,” he says, and for the first time in a while, she feels relief wash over her at the certainty that fills his eyes. “I didn’t know that being a curator was something I wanted to do until Tony and Pepper approached me about it. Discovering all these new artists has been great-”

“And the gift baskets too, I’m sure,” she adds, smirking at the questioning look that crosses his face. “Darcy catches me up on the office gossip. She said you get a lot of loot from people vying to interview you.”

“I leave whatever I get in the breakroom and let them fight over it,” he explains, smiling as she chuckles. “But yeah, the feeling of professional accomplishment I’ve had these last couple of years? Doesn’t even come close to how it felt when Izzie looked up at me tonight as I was putting her to bed and told me, unprompted, that she loved me.”

“I lah you,” she says, making them both chuckle as she mimics Isabel’s voice. “Kinda knocks you off your feet a little, huh?” He nods, to which she smiles. “Anyway, enough talking about work and our lives’ purpose for one night. What did you two get into today?”

“See for yourself,” he says, pulling his phone out of his pocket and handing it to her. “I thought she might like to see horse drawn carriages like in her bedtime stories, so we went to the Royal Mews. I think she really enjoyed it. Well, save for the little meltdown she had when I wouldn’t let her pet the” – he puts out his free hand, making air quotations with his index and middle fingers – “ponies.”

She scoffs, handing him back his phone. “If it was just a little meltdown, consider yourself lucky. She once face-planted on the floor of a Tesco because I wouldn’t let her carry the carton of eggs while we shopped.”

“Toddlers, huh?” he says with a shake of his head.

“They’re cute for a reason,” she concurs. “What about tomorrow?”

“We were going to see Big Ben, but then I learned that it’s boarded up,” he says, his gaze falling to the watch on his wrist. “Oh, wow. Speaking of tomorrow, though, I have to work a little in the morning before I come get her, so I should probably get going.” When she nods in acknowledgement, he stands, reaching for his coat. “But anyway, we might just do the aquarium instead. That place any good?”

She shrugs. “Wouldn’t know. Never been.”

“You’ve never been to the aquarium?” he asks incredulously, his eyes widening when she shakes her head no. “Have you at least gone to other sites? Like the Tower?”

“I’ve seen it. It’s on my bus route to work.”

“Natasha,” he says in equal parts amusement and admonishment.

“I’ve been busy,” she argues. “And taking a not even two-year-old to the Tower of London where they keep all the shiny Crown Jewels that she’s not allowed to touch?” She scoffs. “I’m not a glutton for punishment, Steve.”

“They’re encased in glass boxes,” he reasons, to which she rolls her eyes before turning to straighten the throw pillows on the couch. There’s a pause, and just when she assumes that he’s chosen to let the argument go, he sighs. “You should come with us.”

“What?” she asks, turning to him, pillow still in hand. “Steve, I can’t-”

“You got plans?” he challenges.

“Not for a few days, no, but I do have mounds of laundry to do,” she says, scoffing when he crosses his arms over his chest. “Hey, she might be small, but she goes through a lot of clothes and they’re a pain to fold.”

“You can do laundry when you get back,” he dismisses. “Come on, Nat. You’re the one that made fun of me for not having been to The Met before.”

“That’s not the same. You had been living in Manhattan for years at that point,” she says before gesturing around her flat. “Look, I know you couldn’t help yourself and tidied up this living room, you weirdo. But trust me when I say there’s more to clean!” When his knowing gaze does not let up, she scoffs. And maybe it’s the catharsis from having shared her qualms about work with the only person who truly understands her predicament, or the way they’d seamlessly fallen into conversation as if it hadn’t been ages since they last sat back and had a beer together, but either way, she finds her determination wavering. With a sigh, she puts the pillow back down on the couch. “Fine, okay. Okay. I’ll go.”

“Okay,” he says, suddenly looking triumphant. As he begins to make his way towards the door, she follows him, raising a brow in question when he puts a hand on the knob only to turn back to her. He shrugs. “I know the consequences of your work are exhausting, but for what it’s worth… I think we’re all pretty lucky to have you fighting to get the truth out there.”

Despite how tired she feels, her lips turn up in a smile. “Thank you,” she says with a nod of her head. “Goodnight, Steve.”

“Goodnight, Nat.”

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

#Romanogers #After All #A Little Favor #Steve Rogers #Natasha Romanoff #AU #fanfic #natrogers #natrogersfics

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mxvladdy · 3 years

Text

Shake On It

This is an older original work I wrote for a writing prompt given to me on a writing discord I’m on. I really liked it!

Ironically it also pertains to the Christian mythos and such, but is in no way affiliated with Obey Me lmao

Prompt: traveling bible salesman, death of a family member and bouns round- a time machine.

Hope y’all like! I might add to this later on. I got a lot of fanfics and original projects I’m working on as it lol.

Down on your luck? At the end of your rope? Sister's funeral not going as planned?

We've all been there.

Perhaps I can offer you a hand? Promise it's worth it.

Thin smiles and fake condolences. It was all really one could expect under the circumstances, really. You and your sister hadn’t-well- weren’t the most well-received individuals on your family tree. But she deserved better than this, some stale flowers and a note. You had stormed from the viewing room near tears, the only two relatives who had shown looking after you. They had been less than tactful in saying that no one else was coming. Not even your parents were there. So, instead of watching over your twin’s ashes, you sat crying next to the funeral home's rusty dumpster.

How fitting.

Did no one care that familial blood had been spilt? A cold body and no leads and they just shrug it off? You sniff, lips trembling around an unlit cigarette, numb and lost as to what to do next.

“Need a light?” Reedy fingers flick out beneath your nose and pluck the stick from your slack lips.

You jerk your chin up in shock, more surprised that you hadn’t heard them approaching. “Oi!” Your eyes squint as they snap up toward the setting sun. Your uninvited visitor is perfectly shadowed by the low light. They tisk, ignoring you in favor of sniffing your cheap smoke before flicking it to the ground as if it had personally offended them.

“I swear,” they scoff, fumbling in their pockets. Their soft accent is unrecognizable to your ear. “On a day like this. You deserve better, no?” Their hand stops at their chest with a soft gasp. “Ah! Here we are, here we are!” The stranger’s silhouette produces something from an unseen pocket with a grant flourish, offering it out to you.

“A lolli?” You take it from them in a daze, twirling the bright yellow candy between your fingers. You eye them quizzically. It seemed like an odd practice for a funeral home to do. You knew they hadn’t been at the wake. Their form was taller and lankier than the few guests or staff that had been milling about. Did they work in the back with the bodies, perhaps? Out on their 15? You eye their scuffed oxfords and old mud clinging to their khaki pants.

The stranger chuckles, an oddly deep one for their stature. “But of course! Better for you in the long run. Believe you me, lungs full of ash are quite unpleasant.” You stare blankly up at them. What? “Might I join you for a tick? You look like you could use some company.” They continue nodding their head toward the empty space beside you.

“Can’t stop you.” You sigh popping the sickly yellow lolli into your mouth. The flavor catches you off guard. Hands flying up flap uselessly at your burning cheeks. You gag, only swallowing down your initial shock. Chili and lemon? Who the hell…

“Shock to the system huh?” They laugh at your teary-eyed glare. “I find a bit of contrast clears the mind.”

“I guess.” You cough as you thump your chest hard. Wiping at your teary eyes, you get a better look at them. You were correct in your assumption that you had never seen this person till now.

They smile at you patiently, knowing exactly what you were doing. They seemed normal enough. Unkempt hair and thick glasses. Gangly knees draw close to their chest. A rumpled white button-up tent like on their frame. Sleeves pushed up to show off their knobby elbows. Their tawny skin was spattered with freckles, crossing from high cheekbone to high cheekbone. The freckles were interrupted in their smooth transition across their face by a jagged edge on the wide bridge of their nose. From a distance, the crook of their nose wouldn’t have been noticeable. But this close, you recognize the look of a break long since healed. Its off-centered placement only emphasizes their lopsided grin. Their teeth, though, are surprisingly flawless. Their canines flash predatorily off of the security lights as the sun finally sets.

“My condolences.” They cut through your musing, popping a candy in their mouth as well. “I assume you are part of the party inside?” You follow their pointed finger to the door.

“Yes.” You nod and readjust your posture, mind back on your sorrows. They hum noncommittally, finger tapping their nose deep in thought. “It’s my sister- was- my sister.” You explain. “Her landlord found her last week in her bathroom. Coroner says the wounds were self-inflicted.”

“You don’t believe it?”

“Not in a million years.” You scowl. You were gonna make it big together, if for no other reason than to thumb your noses at the family that threw you aside. Didn’t know how yet, but you thought you had all the time in the world to figure it out. “We had a plan. Leaving all our work unfinished? It isn’t like her.” They nod, letting the silence draw out between you. The cicadas filling the emptiness.

“What are you planning now?” they ask. The words tickle in your ear, temping thoughts you had long since buried. You knew what you wanted. You wanted revenge, to find and destroy whoever took her away from you. To take your family to task and prove to them that you both had been worth a damn.

“Therapy and a potted plant.” You lie easily, resting your back on the chain link fence. They laugh loudly head thrown back from the power of it. It grates at you.

“Oh, my dear~” They wipe at their eyes, chortling. “I haven’t had a laugh like that in a millennium.” They clear their throat after a bit, brushing at some imaginary dust on their arm. “No need to lie to me. Such peace is not in human nature.” You bristle, wanting to argue, but something holds your tongue. “Perhaps I might have what you seek?” They pull an old briefcase out from behind them. You gape, brows threatening to disappear into your hairline.

It all clicks, as sudden as a blown light bulb. The clothes and glasses. The aversion to smoking. The pushiness. Unbelievable. “You aren’t-no. No!” It was your turn to laugh, the sound bouncing around the back alley. “A freakin’ Bible salesman!?” You lose it, slapping their knee while clutching your stomach and gasping in the sour air. “Oh my God! What, did you get lost on your way to a 60’s convention?”

“Yes, yes. It is quite out of vogue in these times, isn’t it? We had to take a more hands-on approach in recent years. The old lore just doesn’t hold up like it used to.” Their chuckle patting the case, thumbs popping the locks. “But I assure you my book is just what you need.” You stop laughing. A little nagging feeling in the back of your head finally starting to take over.

“Listen- with all due respect."

“Please,” they snap, their tone turning sharp and businesslike. “Lying just insults both of us here.” They hand you the case, nodding at you to open it. “Give it a look. I know you want to.” They lean close then, placing a hand on top of yours. The shadows of the overhead light elongate the digits. Candy sweet breath tickles the fine hairs on your face. “And if the book doesn’t entice you, perhaps a deal might?”

You pop the lid.

The sole occupant of the case lounges on an ornate cushion. The rich blue velvet is inlaid with silver thread and beads, the ornate geometric stitching painstakingly done by some poor sod years ago. Frankly, it looked like a lot of flash and theatrics for a rather ugly book. The leather bound cover is bereft of any discernible writing or art. Despite its apparent age, the paper within is crisp. It's bone white color contrasts harshly with the gold ink used on it.

“I can’t read this.” You look up confused by the random string of symbols and letters. The Bible salesman shrugs, picking at a cuticle.

“You sure? Try again.” Their nonchalant demeanor befuddles you.

“Yes, I’m sure. What kind of mor-'' You glance down at the book again, the leather warming in your palm despite the cool night air. The symbols are the same but it all seems so familiar to you now. Book of The Dawnstar.

“Is this a joke?” You already know the answer. The unnatural warmth and pulsing from the book bring the nerves in your stomach to a sickening curl, tipping you off. But, you don't want to say the word. Magic was a stupid fairy tale made for the big screen.

“Does it feel like a joke?” They ask, lips curling.

“What do you want?” You shut the book with a snap, placing it back in its case. You weren't liking where this was going, but were intrigued all the same.

“Well~ I thought it was self-explanatory.” They take the book back out, fingers going over the front’s cover in odd swirls and dips. Your eyes follow the trail left by their fingers. “Striking deals used to be so much easier, I swear.” They point at you, then at themselves. “I can feel the rage. It called me here. You want answers; more importantly to me, you want revenge. I can help. All you need to do is make a deal with me. You know the saying.”

“For-for real?” You can hardly believe it. This is a prank-or a fever dream. It’s the only explanation. No demon or devils, or stupid magic bullshit. Someone would find you soon, passed out from the stress back here.

“Dream or not, what would it hurt to try?”

“What would it hurt!” you laugh in disbelief. “You know in Bible school they say not to make deals with devils.”

“Pfft.” They wave off the comment. “I’m wounded! Half those fools get the language twisted anyway. Devil, Satan, and my name are not interchangeable . I’m not some low level sprite begging for souls.”

“Why come to me then?” you ask. They shrug, fingers slowing to a stop over their book. “Wouldn’t some--I don’t know--Christian soul be tastier or something?” You begin to panic. The look of exasperation you get in return stops you from losing it completely.

“Is that what they teach these days? Heh, Gabriel must be ringing his halo. But if those stupid little superstitions are whats stopping you from what we both know you desire, let me rectify that.” They rise to their feet, far more elegantly then their appearance would lead you to believe was possible. A haze covers them, the shadows around you seemingly clinging to their body as they turn. “A formal introduction then. Dawnstar, Lucifer. The light bringer, rebel, and protector of those under my eyes.” They bow, baggy clothes replaced with elegant robes of navy. All gangly awkwardness gone in the wake of sheer power. “And you are exactly the entertainment I’m looking for.”

“Entertainment?” You sputter, sinking back as far as you can into the fence behind you. You were sure if you should be insulted or not by the notion. “So you don’t want my soul?”

Lucifer rolls two of their many eyes. “I have bigger, quite frankly purer souls, for that. But they are all rather boring to follow around till they croak. Besides, despite what sweet old pastor Dale says, I am empathetic--to a certain degree. You are right in your assumption that your twin did not take her own life. So I’m offering you a chance to meddle.”

You ponder over the words, mind racing as your spirit soars. This was impossible. “So I can-- what, like wish her back? A soul for a soul?” You rise to your feet, knees shaking as the heavy gaze of the fallen angel bares into you.

“Ugh. Figured you’d say something like that,” Lucifer groans, rolling their neck. “And the answer is no.”

“What? Why!” you snap, heart seizing. You jab a finger at their chest. The cold radiating off of them stops you from getting any closer. “You said you would help!”

They step back, smirking as you rub at your frostbitten finger. “Live and learn, I guess?” Lucifer turns, looking up into the bug-infested sky. “You humans always try that martyr shtick. ‘Oh, trade me for them, please!’. Turns into a never ending headache I’m contractually obligated to help with. Plus, it’s rather boring.”

You sputter. “Excuse me?” Lucifer looks at you, blinking coyly.

“When you’ve been around as long as I have, such clichés get grating every couple of centuries. You, my girl, just have the misfortune of being in one of those centuries. Try something more creative. Make me work for it.”

“Seriously?” You throw your hands up exasperatedly.

“As serious as your great aunt's coming heart attack.” They reply deadpan.

“Fine!” You purse your lips, not evening wanting to think about that last statement. “Help me prevent it.” You fume, all the little thoughts and wishes since the day you got the call boiling over. “I wanna look that fucker in the eyes before they can get to her. I want them to pay for even thinking they could take her from me!”

Lucifer grins, cold dead eyes warming over like coals on an open flame. “Oh yes, now that I will do. Time distortion is such a pain to undo. By the time they catch on, Michael will be up to their necks in timelines to untangle to get to you.” They unfurl a long clawed hand from beneath their robes. You see a symbol glowing, hot and white, on the skeletal palm. “Is that what you truly want?”

“Yes.” You nod, your throat clicking dryly as you approach them again. You hand inches from theirs before stopping. “Can you do that?”

Their smile is all teeth. “With ease. I look forward to watching the mess you make.”

#Vladdy original works #be gentle with me #lol

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