#finally the diamond shaped cheeks are gonna make it look good

[raccoonium]

can't wait to paint a raccoon overlay on the furries

[inkykeiji]

bright light city gonna set my soul on fire

ace anon said: wanna suggest dabi taking you to a poker game as a good luck charm then betting you on a game and losing...or winning and bragging about it by fucking you on the table

genre: smut + implied crooked secret agent/spy AU set in the late 1950s???

notes: AH ace i loved this idea SO MUCH it ended up sparking an entire fic!! heavily inspired by ian fleming’s 1953 novel casino royale + martin campbell’s 2006 film casino royale. it is set in clari’s version of the 1950s and in no way historically accurate!! think of it as an AU of the 1950s, if that makes sense ehehe | title credit: viva las vegas by elvis | songs mentioned in the fic itself: don’t and i beg of you by elvis, rockin’ robin by bobby day

warnings: 18+, period typical use of the word Daddy (not with dabi), inappropriate use of the word Mister, slight degradation, mentioned somnophilia, slight dacryphilia, minimal prep, night terrors, blood, murder, generally toxic codependant relationship, one implied mention of drug use (morphine), mentions of tense family dynamics

words: 8.5k

synopsis:

Yes, as much as he’d like to deny it, it’s true; Dabi fell in love with you the moment he laid eyes on you.

Because Dabi saw more than just a pretty little thing when your gazes first met.

He saw the perfect weapon, a diamond in the rough just waiting—begging—to be cleaned and cut and formed into the most brilliant gem, into the most ideal accomplice for him—because, really, what’s more dangerous than a beautiful woman? Especially when she looks like innocence personified?

Sticky pink candy, translucent and gleaming with saliva, clacks against teeth as you roll the heart-shaped lollipop around in your mouth, twirling the stick between your index finger and your thumb.

Legs kick idly as you lean back on your other hand, seated on the edge of Tomura’s massive, pristine mahogany desk, watching as his personal tailor helps Dabi shrug on a navy tuxedo jacket, stitched and sown perfectly to his measurements.

“I dunno,” he’s saying as he pivots his body a little, making a face at himself in the mirror. “I still think the black looks better,”

Ruby eyes roll up towards the ceiling, a frustrated groan spilling from between Tomura’s lips.

“You always think the black looks better. We’re going with the navy, it brings out your eyes,” he gives the back of Dabi’s head a sharp look before strolling towards you, features softening as he observes—the perfect picture of innocence, legs swinging slowly in cute little motions, strawberry lollipop sucked against the roof of your mouth, sparkling eyes floating from your boyfriend’s broad shoulders to his—your—boss’s face as he advances.

“Gimme some,” he demands, large hands finding your knees and halting your movement, using his hipbones to push them wider, making a space for himself between them and sticking his tongue out. With a giggle, you place the now misshapen candy on his tongue, gasping loudly as he snatches the candy from you, movements too quick for you to catch, and jumps away with the grace of a cat.

“Daddy!”

Tomura snickers around the lollipop in his mouth, sucking it into his cheek as he speaks around it. “Aw, come now, don’t pout,” his bottom lip pushes out to mimic your expression, tilting his head in false sympathy. “I’m sure your Mister will buy you another,”

“He better,” you mumble through your pout, eyebrows knitting together as arms cross tightly over your chest, eyes flitting to Dabi.

“I will, dollface, I will,” he vows distractedly, gaze not straying from his fingers reflected in the mirror as they fiddle with his bowtie.

“Promise, Mister?”

“Promise, baby, promise,”

Dabi’s already been briefed on the specifics of this mission—something to do with playing a poker game with a bunch of other crooked hotshots at the Sahara hotel in Las Vegas, but that’s all you know. That’s all you’re authorized to know.

Despite being Dabi’s accomplice and working for Tomura’s underground organization, you’re rarely allowed to be in Tomura’s office while the briefing happens. It’s sensitive information, dollface, and the less you know the better, and don’t misbehave now, sit pretty and quiet like a good little girl until the big boys are finished, and then Daddy and Mister will give you a pretty reward.

But! you had protested with a bottom lip involuntarily jutted out. But maybe, if I know more, I can be of better help—

But Tomura had shut that idea down before it had even finished leaving your lips.

No. Absolutely not. It’s for your own good—your own safety, you little brat—why can’t you understand that? 

You do understand that, you’ve been told a thousand times—your specialty is distractions, used to keep enemies occupied before Dabi splatters their brains on marble floors, or to pry information out of men weak to the smile of a pretty girl.

And, to be fair, Tomura does reward you pretty generously, with glittering evening gowns and designer pumps and all the handbags a gal could ever want.

You turn back to face him, red lips spread into a cunning, mischievous smile, a smile he knows all too well, a smile Dabi loves—because he taught it to you—and Tomura hates—because it means you’re about to get what you want. “So. How much money are you giving me to play with this time, Daddy?”

Tomura’s face screws up, nose scrunching. “None,” he spits, removing the lollipop from his mouth. Tiny hands grab at the air, reaching for it like a child, Tomura swiping it just out of grasp as he continues his scolding. “Last time, you nearly bought the entire shopping complex,”

“Ah, c’mon, boss,” Dabi says around a cigar, still standing in front of the full-length mirror and smoothing down his clothing. “Give the lil lady a lil somethin’, will ya?”

“Yeah, boss, c’mon,” you plead, mimicking your boyfriend, adorning your face with your signature pout and award-winning puppy-dog eyes.

“Absolutely not.” His voice is stern as he speaks, facial features hard in finality and resolution, but his eyes—irises a crimson so brilliant, so beautiful it’s terrifying, almost looks as if it’s glowing—are beginning to waver.

“You know, if you don’t, then I’m sure I’ll get bored in that big city all by myself while Dabi’s working,” you begin in a singsong voice, eyebrows raising. “And you know what happens when I get bored, Daddy,”

“She gets int’a trouble,” Dabi grumbles, eyes catching yours through the mirror, though there’s a smirk forming around the cigar, held between sharp gleaming ivory teeth.

“S’true,” you nod simply, eyelashes fluttering as you gaze at Tomura. “Please, Daddy? Pretty please? I swear I won’t spend too much this time,”

“Jus’ give ‘er your credit card r’somethin’,” Dabi waves a hand in nonchalance before patting down his pockets. “I’ll keep a’eye on ‘er, promise,”

“Take that damn cigar out of your mouth and speak properly,” Tomura spits, and you and Dabi share another look, another smirk, through the mirror. “Fine, alright? Fine,” nimble fingers pull out a sleek leather wallet, flipping it open and searching through the card slots, grumbling to himself. “Christ, the two of you are insufferable, I swear to God,”

“Thank you, Daddy,” you giggle, soft and gentle and innocent, all of the things you weren’t mere moments ago. Platinum plastic gleams in your fingers as you tilt the card in the light, gaze captivated by the way it sparkles and glitters as you speak again. “Promise I’ll bring you back something neat,”

     ✰          ✰          ✰

It’s been a few years now since the two of you met, since the two of you became partners, and Dabi swears to high heaven and back that he had tried his hardest not to fall in love with you, cross his heart, hope to die.

At least, that’s what he likes to tell himself. In actuality, he fell for you the moment he laid eyes on you—it’s as cliché and cheesy as one of those Jimmy Dean flicks, but goddamn it, it’s true all the same.

Doesn’t help that that’s one of the first things you said to him, though.

You look like Jimmy Dean, Mister, you had giggled dainty behind your hand, batting those long, thick eyelashes as you gazed up at him, gracious and polite and all the things a good little girl like you should be. Is supposed to be.

It made him want to fucking ruin you. It sparked a white-hot fire deep in the pit of his stomach, a blaze that grew, and grew, and grew with each of your cute mannerisms. It procured an inferno full of pure desire, heady and intoxicating, that nearly engulfed him in an instant.

“Oh, yeah?” he had asked with a smirk, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest, tongue running along his front teeth as he steadily held your eyes. “‘N why’s that, little miss?”

Those eyes, the sparkling ones that had been so bold only a moment ago, bashfully flitted down to the teal typewriter sitting in front of you on a large oak desk, fiddling a little with your nails against the worn keys.

Baby pink. Cute.

“Oh I—I—” your gaze flashed up to his for a moment, intense cobalt burning into your very skull, before you averted your stare again. “Well, I-I don’t mean to be rude, Mister, it’s just that—your hair,”

Sapphire eyes flicked up, as if to gaze at his forehead, as if he were able to see his own hair from just that motion, eyebrows raising with the action.

“S’all messy like the way he wears his. You know, when he’s not doing a picture and all that,”

And you noticed your mistake immediately, eyes widening, tongue tripping over your words in your haste to correct yourself, to speak properly, like a lady. “I-It’s all messy, s-sorry, excuse me, it’s all messy like the way he wears his,”

A smirk, slow and dangerous, spread across his face as he observed you, tilting his head a little as his eyes travelled down your neck, to your shoulders and the sweetheart neckline of that pretty, pretty dress, and then back up again, narrowing slightly as they did so. It’s in that moment that Dabi first wondered what you’d sound like underneath him while sharp hipbones bruise his name into the tender flesh of your inner thighs, how you’d slur your words together then.

His voice was a touch huskier when he spoke again. “You like Jimmy, miss?”

“I sure do,” you nodded, painted lips morphing into a little melancholic smile as you looked down at the typewriter again. “It’s a real shame he passed,”

“Sure is,” Dabi mimicked your movement, giving a simple nod in agreement. “But thank you for the compliment, doll, I’ll take it,”

Your head snapped back up. “Oh, c’mon, m’not stupid y’know,” you huffed with a roll of your eyes and a light laugh.

“No?”

The traces of amusement that played in his azure eyes had your own narrowing a little in response, sitting up straighter as you rolled your shoulders back.

“No,” you shook your head. “I know who you are,”

“Yeah? And who’s that?”

“Touya.”

And it’s the way you said his birthname, the way your lips curled into a devious little smile around the word, the way one of your perfectly arched eyebrows raised in question, in challenge, that had confirmed it for him, right then and there, in that stupidly luxurious office.  

“Touya Todoroki.”

He was sure he had to have you. He was positive he had to make you his—forever.

“You’ve been compared to Jimmy since he debuted—”

“And you know this because—”

“—because I read Time and Vogue and all those other stupid magazines, just like all the other women in this country. And I’ve seen you,” you paused to point a manicured nail at him. “On or in every single one,”

Oh, and he was sure you had, sure you knew that he was notorious for stealing several of his father’s girlfriends when he was in his early twenties, infamous for fucking them and then selling the Polaroid’s and information to vying tabloids and the like. He always did like to spice up those stories a little, to fluff them and make them a hint more scandalous, glamorous—those ones always sold for more.

Not that he needed the money.

“It’s rude to point, baby,” he winked before he straightened up, pushed himself off the wall and stalked towards your desk, stopping in front of it as large hands splayed out on the wood, and leaned close to your face.

“And I don’t go by that name anymore, sweetheart,” he had told you, voice smooth as scotch over ice, though something dangerous glinted in his eyes as they carefully searched your face, something omnious etched into the sharp smile on his face

A shiver crawled up your spine, frosty and slow, fingers tiptoeing up each vertebra as you nodded your understanding. “Y-Yes, sir,”

The door to your boss’s office had swung open then, Dabi straightening up and spreading his arms out in a grand sweeping movement.

“David!” he greeted as if the two were old friends, large smile stretched too tight across his face as he walked forward and clapped a large hand on the smaller man’s shoulder. “How are you doing?”

He murdered your boss that day. You didn’t know, of course, didn’t have a goddamn clue until over a month later, Dabi had made sure of that. But by the time you found out, you were already in too deep; too enamoured by him, wholly captivated by him in every sense of the word, too dependant on him, to care at all.

He had made it quick—quiet and painless and looking as if it was an accident, strolling out of the office only a few moments later and asking you out on a date like nothing had happened, words flowing smoothly from his lips in that drawl that is so distinctly him, almost lazy in a way, glittering lidded sapphire scalding your skin with its intensity.

Yes, as much as he’d like to deny it, it’s true; Dabi fell in love with you the moment he laid eyes on you.

Because Dabi saw more than just a pretty little thing when your gazes first met.

He saw the perfect weapon, a diamond in the rough just waiting—begging—to be cleaned and cut and formed into the most brilliant gem, into the most ideal accomplice for him—because, really, what’s more dangerous than a beautiful woman? Especially when she looks like innocence personified?

Nothing, that’s what.

Honestly, he did you a favour—he swears he could see it in your eyes, sparkling as they gazed at him like he sculpted the moon himself, pleading for someone—for him—to come along and take care of you, to put you in your place, to keep you in line, absolutely desperate for someone to mold you, shape you, construct and arrange you into his most perfect creation.

Perfect, perfect, perfect, that’s what you are; so good for him, so obedient and compliant, always hanging on his every word and eagerly awaiting his next command, enthusiastic to submit to him, to please him, to receive the praise you crave so badly.

And Tomura had agreed, too, after only fifteen minutes of meeting you, of observing you, of assessing you, that you’d be a flawless addition to their operation.

So Dabi did what he does best.

He started slow, of course, enchanted you with strings of pearls and gorgeous dresses and expensive dinners, fed you tidbits about his mysterious lifestyle, about his family and his job and his past, just enough to keep you coming back for more, until you were practically begging him to let you in, to permit you to join his vocation, to accompany him on the wild ride that is his life.

And that was the best part of all—you didn’t care, you wanted it just as badly as he did; wanted to help him, to serve him, to be his, without ever requiring the full story. You readily gave everything up for him, accepted his orders, his wants and his needs without as much as a single question, never faltering in your honesty, in your pure devotion to your creator.

It’s love in its truest form, you’re both sure of it—possessed by one another, infatuated with one another, dedicated to one another—both consumed by the most potent drug, this love, a force to be reckoned with, the strongest pull either of you have ever felt before.

And, really, what more could you ask for?

     ✰          ✰          ✰

He took you under his wing, crafted you into a master of manipulation, pairing it perfectly with that innocent kitten demeanour you wear so well, and taught you everything he knew: all of the infiltration techniques and self-defence he had learned before he was ostracized from his father’s company—a privatized intelligence agency that works closely with the federal government—the very organization he’s been working so tirelessly to burn to the ground.

You still don’t exactly know what happened. He doesn’t like to talk about it, about where those scars decorating his body came from, about why he’s thrown away his old identity and constructed a new one, trading ivory hair and a high-fashion wardrobe for inky black and weathered Levi jeans with big black motorcycle boots.

But you do know a little.

He had been the favourite son, the chosen son, the one set to inherit the empire his father had built. That was, until he got himself into an accident—one that he still isn’t ready to disclose the full details of, and you never push. But you know it had involved a twelve year old Touya—always devious, crafty, and ever-so intelligent, even as a child—sneaking along on a mission he absolutely shouldn’t have. The silvery burns that adorn his skin, puckered and soft and shimmering like moonlight when they catch in the sun, scars tinged with the slightest hint of baby pink, are from this incident. Whatever had happened after had scarred his soul forever.

Because you’ve never encountered such intense hatred, burning bright blue flames that rage and roar inside of him, the words that are spit from between clenched teeth when he talks about his father, about his baby brother, positively scalding.

But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that you don’t know the full story, that you aren’t entirely aware of why this vendetta against his family exists. It doesn’t matter that his one goal in life, his only true desire aside from you, is to take down his father. It doesn’t matter that he’s willing to do anything and use everyone to achieve his objective.

Because he is letting you in; slowly, bit by bit and piece by piece, the most fascinating and tragically beautiful jigsaw you’ve ever put together. He may never be ready to tell the full story, and that’s alright with you, because as you’ve reassured him countless times in the dead of night, you’ll always love him anyway—you’ll always be by his side.

That’s when he’s most vulnerable, it seems—in the middle of the night, at two and three and four in the morning, when he wakes trembling and whimpering and soaked with his own sweat.

He never tells you what they’re about, the nightmares. Sometimes, they’re so violent that they wake you first. He doesn’t fuck you immediately on those days, doesn’t say a word as he finds solace in your warm bosom, little fingers pushing back sweaty strands of inky hair from his temples as your other arm wraps around him, holding him close to you as his shaky breathing calms, as his muscles stop quivering. On those nights, he says nothing as he spreads your legs and climbs on top of you, railing you into the mattress like it’s his last day on this earth.

That’s how he likes to be comforted; that’s what calms him down best. It’s standard procedure at this point—not that you mind waking up to his soft sniffles and him shoving himself into your barely prepped cunt, or rousing to feel the tip of his naked cock rubbing against your clit through thin cotton undies as he tells you in that wavering voice to stay sleeping and let your Mister take what he needs. You’re there to serve him—and you do, so perfectly. You just want to help, after all. You’ve always ever just wanted to help. You never know which nights he’ll gift you another little piece of himself, of his soul, for you to try and fit in somewhere in the puzzle that is DABI. You don’t know the triggers—as far as you’re concerned, they don’t seem to exist anywhere outside of the padlocked barricade of his own head, no rhyme or reason to them, more random than anything else. But you’ll readily accept anything and everything he’s willing to give, the very instant he’s willing to give it.

     ✰          ✰          ✰

Sprawled out on the hotel bed with his white t-shirt riding up and exposing your lacy panties, you watch, in an almost trancelike state, as Dabi does his hair in preparation for the game set to begin in an hour or so. He leaves it messy and ungreased when he isn’t working, all tousled and fluffy, a sea of half formed curls that flow into each other, akin to tremulous waves hours before a storm like an inky ocean atop his head. But he cleans up well, when it comes time to get down to business.

“Every little swallow, every chickadee, every little bird in the tall oak tree,”

Standing in front of the mirror clad in a white undershirt and his suit pants, he sings along to Bobby Day’s staticky voice as it flows through the small radio set on the bathroom counter, nimble fingers dipping into a tin of greasy pomade and gathering a generous glob, a responding giggle bubbling up in your chest.

“The wise old owl, the big black crow,” he catches your eye through the mirror, a devilish smile materializing on his face as he continues, lathering his hands together. “Flap-a their wings singin’ ‘go bird go’,”

“Should’a been a singer, I’m telling ya,” you say as you roll onto your stomach, chin resting in your palms and head propped up, eyes glittering. “Could’a rivalled Elvis,”

Huffing out a laugh accompanied by a roll of his eyes, his hands begin to rake through his hair, slathering it with the substance and slicking most of it back from his face, sure to leave a few curls at the start of his hairline untouched. “So sweet you’re gonna rot my teeth, baby,”

“M’serious!” you insist, blinking at him as your eyebrows raise, watching the teeth of the black comb run through the slicked-up strands, his palm following close behind as he smooths it over; crisscross, crisscross, crisscross, fluff, pat, crisscross.

 “Uh-huh, uh-huh,” he shakes his head in disbelief, though there’s the faintest pink tinting his stubbled cheeks. “I think I’m better at this job,”

What? Playing poker with a bunch of criminals and making deals with mafiosos and murdering those who wrong you? you swallow the words, letters stinging and scraping your throat as you force them back down, schooling your face into a neutral expression. “I respectfully disagree,”

“‘Course you do,” he mumbles to himself distractedly, leaning closer to the mirror to complete the look. “Elvis, you say?”

He begins belting out lyrics in an exaggerated deep voice as he adds the finishing touch—your favourite part—slender fingers shining with residual pomade as they twirl and coat the few stray curls left neglected, allowing them to hang artfully in the middle of his forehead. 

“When I feel like this and I want to kiss youuu,” pivoting on his heel, he gazes at you with that shit-eating grin and continues. “Baby, don’t say doooon’t,”

“Oh, God, no, not Don’t!” you groan, flopping onto your back dramatically, face screwed up as if you had just tasted something sour.

“Alright, alright, alright,” he’s chuckling as he advances towards you, a small towel in his hands as he cleans them. “How ‘bout…” trailing off, he hums a little as he thinks.

“Hold my hand and promise,” he begins in a low voice, smooth and sweet like the finest melted chocolate, depositing of the towel and crawling onto the bed.

“That you’ll always love me too,”

Large hands gently pry your legs part, signature crooked smirk spreading across his face when he’s met with zero resistance, rough palms caressing silky skin as they slide up, fingers gripping and grabbing and kneading.

“Make me know you love me,”

The words taper off into a whine, beginning to sound more like begging than singing, as his body settles between your thighs, hipbones digging into the soft flesh while he hovers above you, supporting his weight on his forearms.

“The same way I love you, little girl,”

Lips trail along your jaw, leaving tender kisses in their wake—unhurried, careful, and full of purpose—as he mumbles against your skin.

“You got me at your mercy, now that I'm in love with you,”

Calloused hands begin to ruck up his t-shirt, digits dipping into the lacy waistband of your panties, his voice starting to tremble ever so slightly.

“So please don't take advantage, cause you know my love is true,”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, sapphire eyes gleaming in the golden sunlight and he pauses, blistering gaze searching your face for something, muscles relaxing and head dipping a moment later to finally press his lips against yours, whispering into the kiss. “Darling please, please love me too, I beg of you,”

And despite all the glitz and glamour, all the extravagance and exhilaration, that comes with each mission, this will always be your favourite part—when it’s only you and him, lounging around in some luxurious five star hotel or some dingy roadside motel, exchanging lazy, messy kisses full of stringy shining saliva, goofing around and whispering stupid Elvis lyrics to each other, words that hold more weight than either of you care to admit.

     ✰          ✰          ✰

It was supposed to be a fairly simple operation—minimal violence, Tomura had instructed. No guns or casualties, if it can be avoided, if Dabi can keep his temper in check. It was supposed to be easy, straightforward, safe.

It was supposed to be. But Dabi gets bored easily, likes a little spike of adrenaline with his missions, rolling his broad shoulders and cracking his neck as he joins the rest of the men around the poker table, a sly smirk on his face as they name the bets and the prizes.

“And my little doll,”

It’s hard to resist rolling your eyes as those four words slip from between his lips, slow and smooth in that deep, lazy drawl, trademark smirk painted across his lips as his lidded eyes scan the faces sitting around the table, an eyebrow raised, daring any of them to protest. Several hungry eyes dart towards you for a moment, standing like the reward you are a few feet behind Dabi and leaning on a railing, a shy little smile briefly gracing your lips in greeting, elegant evening gown shimmering under the crystal lights.

This isn’t new—Dabi usually bets you when he plays. Keeps him sharp, he claims. Keeps him on his toes, keeps it fun when there’s something important at stake, something valuable to lose, he says. He plays better that way, he promises.

Except he’s always craved that thrill of danger, has always liked to push further and further simply to see how far he can go before he topples over the edge. It’s a rush, a blast, a high akin to the morphine that so often flows through his veins, and he fucking lives for it.

It’s been over an hour now, since those words were murmured in that velvet voice, floating across the table and cloaking the thoughts of the other men like a lethal haze, most of whom can’t seem to keep their eyes from wandering back to you every so often, leering gazes coating your skin with grime you itch to scrub off.

But that’s the point—or it’s supposed to be, anyway. That’s the whole reason you’re here in the first place. To act as a distraction, Tomura’s words drift through your mind, just whisps of his voice that tickle the walls of your skull.

And what a perfect distraction you are, in a Dior dress that looks like it was made only for you, tapered perfectly to every curve and edge of your body, silk flowing gracefully with every miniscule movement, with every rise and fall of your chest.

But it bores you to tears, this poker game, eyes dry and sticky, sick of staring at the back of your boyfriend’s immaculate, intricate hair as his nimble fingers play with the mountain of chips accumulating in front of him, plastic clacking together as he shuffles through them.

You had begged him to let you go shopping—just for the first half of the game, you swear!—but he refused. I need my good luck charm there with me the entire time, babydoll, he told you, brushing calloused fingers down your cheek then tracing along the line of your jaw, gazing at you with brilliant sapphire that glitters in the late afternoon sun, streaming in through the hotel’s floor-length windows. We can go shopping after the game is finished, he promised.

You regarded him with skepticism.

“And dancing?”

“Of course,” he responded with a playful scoff. “We can dance until our feet are bleeding, pinky promise,”

Keigo comes to join you just before the game passes the two-hour mark, large hands finding purchase on your hips and pulling you back against his chest as his head dips down, soft full lips against your skin.

“Lovely dress you’ve got on,” he murmurs, breath hot against your ear, tickling the shell. “You look stunning—breathtaking—I mean, gosh, look at me, I can barely breathe,” he gasps dramatically, chest heaving against your back as he does so, chuckling when you roll your eyes and giggle at him to shut up, Kei, the vibrations from his laugh a comforting sensation, a familiar sensation, a welcomed sensation, sending warmth spreading through your body. “I’m so happy you’re here,” you whine, leaning further into him and head tilting against his collarbone to gaze up at him. “I’m so bored,”

“Yeah, I bet,” he says, something unusual—unreadable—settling in his topaz eyes as he glances up at the table. “You aren’t used to games lasting this long, are you, baby,”

A little pout settles on your lips and you nod, playing right into his condescending cooing as you snuggle into him, eyes following his stare. Truthfully, you haven’t a clue what’s going on, and, really, you couldn’t care less. You aren’t entirely sure what the significance of this poker game is, or who most of these men are, and you aren’t allowed to. Just sit pretty and perfect like you always do; it’s the thing you do best.

Except tonight—tonight something is different, unsettling, off. It’s no big deal, though, of course—you can almost hear that deep, dark voice drawling the words out in your mind, phantom breath tickling your skin.

Because Dabi’s always been startlingly good at what he does. Because Dabi’s always been able to worm his way out of a difficult situation. Because there’s never really been a reason to worry about it before, anyway. But tonight—well, tonight you’re watching as his Balenciaga clad shoulders are getting tenser, and tenser, as his jaw is clenching tighter, and tighter, as his grip on that singular sparkly chip resting in his palm is becoming stronger, and stronger, thin skin stretching painfully over sharp bony knuckles.

Keigo’s breath is bated, his fingers digging into your hips as he observes the game unfolding in front of the both of you, pulling you closer to him, hushed curses falling from his lips every so often. And Keigo knows what’s happening, of course, but he refuses to tell you, promising you that you wouldn’t understand even if he tried to explain it. Creases form on your forehead as your eyebrows knit, eyes drifting back to the table. Whatever it is, it’s clear that it isn’t good, Keigo’s body tensing against yours as he sucks in a breath and holds it for a moment before blowing it out from his mouth, exasperated.   “Well, I’m positive it’s fine,” you say, trying to wave it off lightly, to whisk away the acrimonious dread that roots deep in the pit of your stomach and begins to spread, thick and dense as it slithers into your surrounding organs, to brush off the impending sense of foreboding that seems to lurk over you, getting heavier and heavier, darker and darker with each second that ticks by—though your voice sounds high to your ears, tinny and false. “Dabi’s never lost a game before, that’s why they send him to these things,” But Keigo doesn’t sound so sure, responding with a nervous breath of a laugh, lithe fingers flexing on your hips, rubbing little lopsided circles into the flesh. “First time for everything, songbird,”

The words send ice piercing through your veins, but you persevere, rolling your shoulders and standing up a little straighter, swallowing past the painful lump that’s lodged itself in your throat. It’s fine. It’s always fine. He’s always found a way to get out of messy, tight situations before. Why should tonight be any different?

It won’t be, it isn’t—you can already see Dabi collapsing on the cream sofa upstairs in your luxurious hotel room, tugging at his bowtie with a sigh as his head falls back, nimble fingers popping the first few buttons on his crisp white dress shirt, and had you scared for a moment there, didn’t I, kitten?

And you’ll playfully slap his shoulder as you crawl into his lap, roll your eyes as you straddle his hips and allow him to tilt the champagne flute to your lips, laugh it off as his hands begin to wander, rucking up your dress and kneading your ass, cock tenting his expensive trousers. Like always. You’re sure of it

It’s just past the three-hour mark when Keigo speaks again, all traces of teasing, of that easygoing lilt that is so distinctly him, gone from his voice. Golden locks stand in all directions, his hair having fallen out of its usual ducktail style, a curtesy of fingers raking through it nervously. His smile is tight as he looks down at you, front teeth nibbling at his cuticles as he speaks, muffled a little by his fingers. “Maybe we should get you out of here, sweetheart—”

“No,” you respond instantly with a firm shake of your head. “I’m not going anywhere,”

“Sunshine, listen—”

“I said, no, Kei,” you pull back a little to look at him, resolution sown into your voice, chest puffing out just a touch. “I won’t leave him,”

Honey eyes hold yours for a moment, and you can almost hear Keigo’s molars as they grind together. He exhales a deep sigh a moment later, shaking his head and tugging his fingers through golden strands again. “Alright, alright,” It finally comes to an end, a few minutes past the four-hour mark. Heavy lids start to lift as commotion begins to stir—soft murmurs among the men and chairs scraping against the floor, plastic chips clacking together and the sharp whisp that travels through the air as cards are shuffled—whining a little as you lean further into Keigo, who is now supporting most of your weight.

“Kei, feet hurt,”

“Shh, I know, songbird,” he hushes you, a large palm stroking your head. “But I need you to wake up, sweetheart,”

Rough, unfamiliar hands are wrapping around your arms only a moment later, yanking you from the warm sanctuary that is Keigo and hauling you against stiff muscle.

“I believe you’re mine now, darling,”

The words are gravelly, uttered in a low voice against the crown of your head. A vicious shiver crawls along your skin, whole body trembling with the force of it, as your lids snap open.

“Wait, what?” frantic eyes search the gaudy room for familiar cobalt, breath beginning to accelerate as you struggle a little in the grasp of a burly man with one eye. His grip tightens in retaliation and a pained yelp hitches in your throat, Dabi’s eye twitching at the sound. “Dabi? D-Dabi!”

Sapphire blazes into your skull, steadily holding your watery gaze as his jaw clenches, swallowing thickly at the sound of your pitiful little whimpers of his name, at the way you squirm and wiggle in your abductor's grasp, desperate to escape, to get back to him.

“H-Hold on, now,” Keigo begins, holding his hands up in surrender, a motion meant to signify peace, to signify that he isn’t a threat—even though you know he’s got the cold metal of his favourite pistol tucked into the waistband of his trousers and pressed against his warm skin. “Let’s talk this through, yeah? Just wait a minute—”

“Nope,” the man cuts Keigo off mid-sentence with a loud, harsh laugh, and you wince at the sound. “No way, a deal’s a deal, friend. I won her fair and square—she’s mine,”

A light chuckle, laced with irritation and dubiety, escapes Keigo’s lips as he shakes his head a little. “Come on, Dabi jokes around like that all the time,” and while his voice seems amicable on the surface, its ridden with cold undertones, phantom threats that are felt, not said. “And this little lady—as pretty as she is—is a person, not a prize. Taking her against her will is, in fact, kidnapping, and I’ll be forced to—”

“Let him go,”

“What?” the word falls from your lips and Keigo’s simultaneously—one incredulous and pitched high with distress, the other breathed out in disbelief, both equally as concerned—gazes snapping to Dabi, who sits quiet and brooding, dim lights casting shadows on the sharp planes of his face.

Azure drifts between your faces, features ridden with terror and alarm—furrowed brows and deep frowns tugging at the corners of lips, one pair of eyes wide with scepticism, the other pair glistening with tears. Dabi’s silent for another moment before he pushes on his knees and stands, squaring his shoulders and clearing his throat, voice ringing out loud and clear, dripping with admonition. “Let him go. He’s right; he won her, fair and square,”

He speaks slowly, annunciating each word with careful precision, sapphire glinting in the dim light has he holds the muscular man’s gaze. It holds something threatening, something menacing, something terrifying deep within the depths of his eyes, and you feel your captor pause for a second, tense, and then shiver.

“Uh, r-right,” he says, voice wavering a little as he nods to himself. “Fair and square,”

Dabi stalks towards you, shiny oxfords echoing against the pristine, freshly waxed marble floor, tutting his tongue and shaking his head, casual and relaxed as ever.

“Don’t struggle, you hear me?” he says, voice softer, gentler, as a calloused thumb swipes across your cheekbone, catching a stray tear. “Be a good girl for him,”

And I’ll see you soon.

The promise doesn’t need to be vocalized—you can see it, shining bright and true in his sapphire eyes, can sense it, in the air surrounding him, can feel it, at the very core of your soul.

A sudden sense of relief floods your body, pathetic little sobs getting caught in your chest as you exhale shakily and deflate in the burly man’s arms, tears finally spilling over your lashline and streaming down your cheeks.

“Okay,” you breathe.

Dabi gives you a simple nod, lips quirking up into a ghost of his signature lopsided smirk. Okay.

And just like that, all of the fear and trepidation and panic vanishes from your body, a serene calm chased by a sense of giddiness replacing it, scorching through your veins.

Because before the door to the man’s hotel room has even swung fully shut, Dabi’s barreling through, crystal handle smashing against the wall and cracking as skilled fingers tangle in short hair, yanking the man’s head back with a sickening crack and dragging the razor-sharp edge of his favourite switchblade across the man’s exposed throat.

He moves like a flash of light, a spark igniting a fire, so fast he’s merely a blur of black and navy and blazing sapphire. Thick crimson begins pouring from the wound immediately, a large splice spanning from one earlobe all the way to the other.

The man hits the shiny hardwood floor with a distinct thump, but you aren’t paying attention to him or the way he’s writhing as he tries to claw at his neck, coughing and gagging as he begins to choke on his own blood.

No, you’re captivated by sapphire, bright and burning as it surges towards you, calloused hands seizing your face roughly as chapped lips find yours, unforgiving and ferocious, bloody knife still in one hand, cool metal pressed against your cheek, smearing streaks of scarlet across your skin as you try to get closer to him, to get more, the stench of copper stinging your nose.

It’s eradicated in an instant though, Dabi’s heady scent—campfire and hickory wood and expensive cologne—filling your lungs, your mind, your entire being as it curls around you in the most intoxicating embrace, familiar and comforting and him, him, him. Stumbling backwards, you just about trip over your own feet as Dabi shoves forward, strong hands wrapped around your biceps keeping you steady. The sharp edge of the small rosewood dining table digs into your lower back, Dabi swallowing your resounding yelp as he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth and tugs, large hands finding your waist and squeezing before he hoists you onto its surface, using his hipbones to force your thighs open.

You nearly topple over from the power, from the urgency, hands flying out behind you and grappling against the table’s surface to keep you sitting upright as he heaves and pushes and leans against you, motions knocking sparkling crystal glasses and fine porcelain plates off the top.

The sound of shattering glass and cracking china mingles with the gurgling and garbling of the man who lay a few feet away on the floor, suffocating on his own blood. It creates such a beautiful symphony, intertwined with Dabi’s ragged breaths and your broken moans, with the ruffling of clothing and the screech of the table legs against the gleaming hardwood floor. And it’s desperate, and needy, and messy, teeth clashing and clacking together violently, saliva dripping down chins as tongues rub and glide and lick, hands pawing and gripping and tugging and ripping, the delicate material of your silk Dior dress practically turning to ash as his fingers materialize through it, tearing it to shreds.

“Off, off, off, I need this off,” he’s growling against your lips as his hands work, a low whine getting caught in your throat as you nod frenetically.

Yes, yes, yes, you’re whimpering, your own little fingers helping him destroy the silvery fabric, eager and anxious to rid your body of the bothersome garment.

A guttural groan, deep and dark and inducing a fluttering in your tummy rumbles in his chest as his eyes roam over your body, clad in the daintiest white lace.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, y’know that,” he’s mumbling between sharp bites to the flesh of your neck, fingers snapping the clasp of your bra, breaking it in one simple motion. “A fuckin’ angel, that’s what you are, baby. My very own angel,”

Rough palms slide down your torso, slow and purposeful as they trace, feel, knead the dips and curves, planes and contours of your body, slender fingers pausing to play with the elastic of the garter belt adorning your waist, holding up your lace-trimmed thigh-highs which have begun to tear, then hooking in the waistband of your thong.

His cock grinds against your inner thigh, hot and hard and throbbing as it strains against his trousers, digits toying with the lacy elastic, twirling it between his fingers before he lets it snap back against your skin, the harsh slap! echoing throughout the hotel room. 

“Oh, Mister, I want it,” the plead falls from your lips in a shameless moan, high and whiny as your hips press forward in an attempt to grind against him. Slender fingers untangle themselves from the lacy fabric in an instant, gripping your hips to still them, fingertips digging into your flesh. “I need it,”

“Need what, dollface?” his lips brush against your skin as he speaks, teeth sinking into your collarbone a moment later, hard enough to break the skin, a loud cry getting caught in your chest. He sucks on the wound, hard, tongue laving over it in soothing little circles, slowly dragging over the bite.

And it’s a compulsion, a sickness, a fucking disease surging through your veins, infecting your mind with thoughts of him and only him, entire body buzzing with the desperate, pathetic, urgent need for him, for his cock, for his cum.

“Need you, need you,” you’re whimpering out, squirming and struggling a little in his grasp, a warning hiss spit through his teeth as blunt nails nip your skin. “Please, Dabi, please, lemme have it,”

“Have what, baby?” lips curling up into a coy smirk, he pulls back just enough to look at you, finally pushing his hips into yours, a patronizing laugh spilling from his throat as you instantly grind against his cock, impatient and impetuous. “Use your words, Mister wants to hear you say it,”

Scalding heat seeps into your cheeks as you squeeze your eyes shut tightly, a broken whine of complaint sounding in the back of your throat as you shake your head. “Y-You know,” you mumble. “You know,”

“Oh, come on, baby,” he tuts with a disappointed shake of his head, voice overflowing with condescension. “You act like such a little slut, but as soon as I want you to say what you apparently need oh-so-badly, you can’t? You get all shy and bashful like you’re innocent, or something?”

An arrogant chuckle bubbles up in his chest, a rough palm colliding with the flesh of your ass a moment later. Scarred lips graze your ear as he leans back in, speaking low and smooth, words leaving his mouth in a huff of warm, sweet breath. “You’re being bad, y’know that?”

The huskiness in his tone sends chills pebbling across your skin, a delicate shiver dancing up your spine.

“Please,” you whisper, bottom lip beginning to tremble. “Please, Mister, please,”

“Tell me,” he rasps, taking the lobe of your ear between his teeth and sucking, bruising his name into the sensitive skin. “I know you can do it, doll. What is it that you want? Tell me,”

And, God, it’s so embarrassing, vision blurring with the sting of tears, entire body beginning to tremble from the combined humiliation and lust surging through your veins, his clothed cock still rutting against your core, poking and prodding and so close, you’re so close, two tiny words, just say them. “Your—Your cock,” you almost yelp, blinking back the tears in your eyes as you try to gaze levelly at him, teeth digging into your bottom lip to quell its pathetic quivering. “W-Want your cock, please, Mister, I-I need it,”

“Yeah?” he breathes while he rests his forehead against yours, butting forward a little as his glazed eyes rapidly search your face, pupils blown to hell and lips bitten red, shining with spit. “Where, huh? Down here?”

A finger tugs the flimsy soaked lace to the side, another dark chuckle slipping from his lips as he drags a knuckle up your dripping slit.

“Here?” it presses into your cute little hole, your hips eagerly bucking forward in response.

“Yes, yes, there, Mister, there, please,” you keen, head nodding in almost frantic movements, skull knocking against his. “Please, n-no fingers, want your cock, need your cock, stretch me out, fill me up, I need it,”

And it’s your senseless babbling that does it, bratty and needy and incessant in high broken whines, that snaps the final thread of patience holding him back, and a growl rips from his chest, so violent it vibrates through your own.

The heavy buckle of his belt clinks as hasty fingers fiddle with it, shoving his trousers down his thighs just enough to free his cock.

You can’t help the mortifying moan that escapes your throat the moment you see it, velvety and pink and oh-so-pretty, flushed tip glistening with precum and two thick veins snaking around the shaft like vines.

“Christ,” he groans as he pushes into your cunt, burying himself inside of you in one swift thrust, your nails biting into the hard muscles of his shoulder through the thin material of his shirt as your hole stretches around him, both of you exhaling simultaneous sighs of relief.

It burns and it stings and God, you need more, eyes rolling back in your skull as the sharp heels of your stilettos dig into his lower back, little fingers tangling in white cotton as you try to pull him closer, closer, closer.

“Greedy little brat,” he snarls out as his hips begin snapping, the movement sudden, unexpected, welcomed, a choked cry of his name catching in your throat.

And it’s brutal and relentless, primal and desperate, lacking most of his usual finesse as he pounds into you, cockhead slamming against your cervix with every harsh thrust of his hips, hard enough to move the entire table itself, legs scraping against the floor a little more with each pump.

Inky curls cling to his forehead and temples, the white cotton of his dress shirt becoming translucent as it sticks to his damp skin, highlighting the hard planes of defined muscle that flex with each ragged inhale.

Surging forward, his tongue runs along the inside of your teeth before it drags against yours, slow and heavy, depositing his taste and staining it with the flavour of him, fiery cinnamon gum and smoky Marlboros. Gorgeous, needy little whines break in his throat in time with each strong piston of his hips, muffled by your mouth, and you greedily swallow whatever he’ll afford you.

It’s total sensory overload—he’s all you can see, all you can hear, all you can taste, touch, breathe, hijacking all of your receptors and overwhelming you with him.

It’s building inside of you, deep in the pit of your stomach, scorching flames that glow as blue as his eyes as they rage, climbing higher and higher, licking at your insides and expanding further and further until they finally engulf you, consume you, with their blaze, and everything shatters, body convulsing almost violently around his cock as you cum with a strained cry of his name.

“Fill me, Mister,” you’re babbling, begging, swearing you’ll die if he doesn’t, the flames will burn you to ash if you don’t get his cum soon, voice absolutely wrecked. “Fill me, fill me,”

And he obeys, filling your cute little cunt to the brim with thick, hot cum as his cock pulses, a cracked whimper of f-fuck, slipping past his lips.

His chest heaves as he collapses against you, the two of you falling back against the table’s surface with a thump, his cock still buried inside of you. A soft whine sounds in the back of your throat as you carefully unlock your legs from around him, wincing a little at the stiffness in your thighs.

I love you.

The three words are murmured into your shoulder, so soft you barely hear them, so quiet you’re sure you’d have imagined them had you not felt his lips move against your flesh, not felt his hot breath on your skin, not felt the gentle vibrations in his chest as he spoke.

“I love you,” you respond, voice tender as tiny fingers comb through his dishevelled hair. “I love you,”

He’s silent for a moment, your combined pants the only sounds ringing out among the hotel room, and then he nods—once at first; just a quick, sharp motion, and then again a moment later, with more vigour, more purpose, more acceptance.

Little hands smooth down the damp cotton hugging his back and your head lolls to the side, cheek pressed against the cool wood of the table. A certain type of giddiness—a type that’s sick, that’s twisted, that’s stuffed full of love—floods your body as your eyes connect with those of a dead man, laying in a pool sticky crimson, and God, yes, you love him, you love him, you love him—more than anyone else ever could, more than you could ever love anything else.  

[mmvalentine]

Take It Off | Feysand

I'm in my spiky feels... time for smut. Canon compliant.

Rhys hasn't seen Feyre in two weeks and he's going out of his mind.

She's at the Summer Court. On a diplomatic trip that he was had every intention of joining Feyre on but she didn't let him.

"Because you already have so much work in Velaris," she had said. "It's only two weeks, there's no point in you taking on even more when you barely have time to breathe as it is."

"That," Rhys had said, his arms looped around her waist and his teeth clenched so hard his jaw ticked, "is not a good enough reason to be parted from you."

"Fine," Feyre said, and her eyes sharpened. "Then it's because I'm keeping you far away from Cresseida and her greedy little claws."

"What?" Rhys balked. Feyre slid her hands up his chest, and pressed her lips to his throat.

"I've seen the way she looks at you. It would not be in the diplomatic interests of the court for me to strangle her in her sleep."

"Gods but you're sexy when you're jealous," Rhys said, and Feyre reached up on her toes to kiss his nose.

"I know," she said. "I'll be back for the Beltane revel."

And then she had swept out of the room and even though Rhys knew she had no such insecurity, he delighted in how wickedly fae she had become over the years.

In between now and then of course Rhys had spoken to Feyre every evening. Had spent time curled around her mind as she drifted off to sleep, sometimes having to wait while she worked late and other times watching the mists of her dreams curl upward like smoke.

One night she dreamed of him.

Rhys was almost asleep when he heard Feyre moan, as clear as if she was lying right next to him. He woke up, wandered down the bond and watched her back arch as she slept. Her small hands were fisted in the sheets, and brow creased as her head tossed. Rhys ghosted a finger down her heated cheek, growling for not being able to to touch her. She moaned again, and he knew that moan. It made him hard as a fucking rock.

It's not often that Rhys intrudes on Feyre's thoughts. But the hunger for her, the need to be close to her, egged him on. He wanted to see what was making her squirm- because he was fairly sure he knew. And he loved it.

Feyre's dreams were mostly just snatches of feelings and remembrances. Nothing especially substantive or specific. Nothing in comparison to the vivid memories he started threading into her mind. Just to... help her out.

Memories of the last time he had had her. In the bath tub. The steam rising around them. The water dripping off his wings. His cock buried so deep inside her she could have choked on it. Rhys replayed the feeling of her, tight around him as he slid in and out, in and out. Getting lost in it. He hoped she knew just how fucking good she felt.

Feyre woke, half way to orgasm, and Rhys didn't say a word as her hand slipped under the covers and between her legs. Didn't need to get behind her mind's shields to remember exactly how wet she could get for him and what that felt like on his fingers. Feyre moaned once more and he swore before grabbing his cock, too, miles and miles away, and moving his hand in time with hers.

"Yeah, just like that," Feyre whispered, still half asleep, and Rhys was burning up. The lust dripping down the bond had his vision blurring his cock aching. When Feyre finally opened her eyes, she looked straight at him, and all he could see was those baby blues, whether his eyes were open or closed. And then he was gripping himself harder because when she was staring at him like that with desire ringing her pupils he knew he was completely hers.

Let me see, Feyre murmured.

See what? Rhys asked muzzily.

You know what. Let me see.

What? Rhys said again. See this? He looked down at his cock in his hand.

Yeah, Feyre breathed.

You want to see what you do to me? He moved his hand up and down. You want to see how hard you make me? You know this happens every time you're on my mind. I'm walking around like this all day because of you.

All day? Feyre licked her lips, and Rhys watched her watching him.

All fucking day, he growled. And when I've got your voice in my mind, when I know you're lying there in bed all alone, thinking of me with your hand in your panties... it makes me just...

He trailed off, but his hand sped up and Feyre moaned a little.

You like watching, huh? Rhys asked her. You like watching me stroke it for you?

In another room, in another court, Feyre bit down on her lip and nodded.

Are you playing too? Rubbing that clit while you think of me?

Yes, Feyre whimpered, and her hips lifted off the bed.

I want you to slide your fingers inside yourself. Do it and imagine you've got my cock in you.

Feyre obeyed, and Rhys groaned. He stroked himself faster, and felt Feyre's attention shift back onto him.

Are you gonna match my pace? He asked. You fucking yourself just like I want to fuck you?

Feyre nodded and sped up. Her breathing shallowed, and Rhys growled low.

You wanna see me come?

Yes, Feyre said, and he could feel the wetness gathering on her hand.

You first, Rhys snarled. Come on your own fingers. And she did, so hard he felt it shudder down the bond, and there was only so many moments he could hold on after that before he was coming, too.

Feyre laughed softly as she drifted back to sleep.

I love you, she said, and then dropped off.

I miss you, Rhys whispered. He rolled onto his side and tried to get some sleep too. But somehow, he was still hard. No imagined tryst was as good as his mate in the flesh. He groaned, turned around to his back again, and jerked off hard and fast with the scent of her in his nostrils.

In much the same fashion, this night does not soothe him, only makes him more restless for her return.

Now two weeks later he is stalking around the moonstone palace with energy crackling at his fingertips. Feyre is due back today. Fourteen days without his mate is far too long, and his friends have started to avoid him. Had just teased him at first, but then he had become so irritable and unpleasant that they just steered clear altogether.

Which has left him slouching in his throne, wondering where the hell Feyre is. She hasn't so much as whispered in his mind all day.

And then just when he is about to storm into the Summer Court and fetch her himself, Feyre walks through the door and sits herself on the arm of his throne, casual as anything.

"Darling I'm home," she purrs, leaning back and gazing out at the crowd.

"And just where have you been?" Rhys asks, still looking out at the revellers.

"Working, lover, as discussed," is the cool response.

"I expected you back hours ago."

"I was... detained."

"At Tarquin's behest, no doubt."

"Perhaps."

Rhys grinds his teeth. In the corner of his eye, Feyre crosses one of her legs over the other, so that the toe of her pointed shoe grazes his ankle. Finally, he looks over, and his mouth goes dry.

Feyre is wearing the black dress, the Court of Nightmares dress, and the black diamond diadem to match. She looks down as he stares, and raises an eyebrow.

"What?" she says, and it is so insolent Rhys has a mind to bend her over that infernal armrest and take her in front of the whole court.

As it is, he manages not to. Turns his body toward his mate's, and runs his hand up her bare thigh, over the curve of it so that his fingertips travel the inside edge of her skin. He stops himself at the top of her thigh, barely holding on to his self-control. He remembers the first time she wore this dress and he had touched her like this. Her face watches his impassively, but her legs fall open just a fraction, and Rhys, wound up as he is, feels a shudder run the length of his body.

"Fuck," he hisses, and he is so hard it hurts.

"Something troubling you, my lord?" Feyre asks, all wide-eyed innocence.

"We're leaving," Rhys grits out.

"But darling," Feyre says, and she shifts her hips so that his hand, resting just under the satin of her skirts, finds that she is not wearing any underwear. "The revel has only just begun." This fucking dress. He doesn't know what's more tantalising- the exposed curve of her breast, or peak of her nipple beneath the fabric, so fine he thinks it doesn't count as clothing.

Rhys visibly swallows, moves his fingers so that they only just brush against the soft lips of her bare pussy, and looks at her with desperate eyes.

"And I just got here." Feyre smiles beatifically, and her mate growls with all of his teeth showing. She tilts her hips, outwardly not seeming to move from her perch but managing to shift to that his fingers are right on the centre of her. Rhys stares at her navel, seeing nothing, transfixed by the silk and heat of her. "Shouldn't we stay just a little longer?"

Feyre blinks at him, all wide-eyes innocence. But then his fingers twitch and even this tiny movement has her soaking, and it's far too much.

"Take it off," Rhys snarls.

"What?"

"Your dress. I can't stand to have you covered up another fucking second."

"My love, you can hardly expect me to strip off in front of all these good fae."

He grabs her wrist, and the next second they've winnowed into their bedroom.

"Take. It. Off."

Feyre tips her head to one side, and looks at her lover, half-feral by the closed door.

"Did you miss me when I was gone?" she croons.

"Off," Rhys repeats, and Feyre's gaze meets the protrusion in the front of his trousers. Her mouth forms the shape of recognition, and her eyes sparkle. She lifts her hands to the fastenings in the back of the dress, but she is too slow.

Rhys crosses the room in three strides and tears the fabric with his hands. Feyre gasps as he touches her, puts his hands on her everywhere. His teeth pull at the skin of her neck, his thumbs stroke over her nipples. His fingers find the clasp of her necklace and remove that too. She goes to lift the tiara from her head, but Rhys stops her.

"That, you can leave on," he growls, and then finally her kisses her and it's somewhere between scathing possession and relief that could shatter him.

Feyre whimpers, it's a long moment before Rhys can pull himself away. Then with steely eyes but gentle hands he pushes her to her knees.

Feyre looks up at her mate, keeping her eyes on his as he takes his cock out and lowers it to her lips.

"Are you going to be a good girl?" he asks, low and dangerous. "Are you going to give me what Tarquin doesn't get?"

Feyre doesn't break eye contact as she takes his entirety into her mouth, relaxing her throat to fit him in. The groan this pulls from Rhys is entirely worth it.

"So good," Rhys murmurs, as she starts to move her head back and forth. At that moment, Feyre flashes up a memory. Her and Tarquin sitting at a long table. So good, Tarquin says with his eyes on Feyre's and a dessert spoon in his mouth.

Rhys growls, and his hands slide into her hair. He holds her in place as he fucks her mouth a little harder, and Feyre's laughter tickles the bond.

"Oh you think that's funny, do you?" Rhys snarls, and in the next second he's pulled out, lifted her up and over his shoulder, and is carrying her to the bed.

Feyre is dumped unceremoniously on her back, and before she can sit up Rhys’s whole weight is on her and his snarl is grazing the shell of her ear.

”You‘re a fucking tease, my darling,” he says from his throat. Feyre starts to reply but he’s pressing the air out of her. "I think you'll pay for that now."

Without breaking eye contact, takes her bottom lip between his teeth, and slowly pushes his cock inside of her.

Feyre's head tilts and her eyes roll. Her lips part and she goes for a gasp, but Rhys is still heavy on her chest and she can't get any air in. Her mouth opens and closes, and her hands tighten on Rhys's arms. Rhys's lips curl, as he reaches his hilt. He kisses gently down Feyre's neck, still not letting her breathe. His hands lift hers above her head, and his tongue glides all the way back up her throat to her ear. When he finally lets up, he watches her inhale as he withdraws, and then just before she exhales he punches his hips forward so her next breath is forced out in a cry.

Rhys loves watching Feyre when he's moving inside her. She knows he loves her wicked words and taunting eyes, but even her mind is silent as this sensation, this bond, this coming home after weeks away becomes more important than everything else.

At first, Rhys is hard and desperate. Needs to feel her everywhere so he knows she's back and she's safe. Needs release after so long in a cold and empty bed. And he's in love with the way that she responds to him, never shying away from him even when he's sharp and rough with her. In fact, she seems to need it too, and when her fingers taper into talons that drag down his back, he shudders with his whole body as his wings ripple out from beneath his skin. Her knees hug his ribcage, and her can feel the pulse in her throat beneath his lips.

And then her eyes open and the entire sky is framed in her lashes. Rhys's heart breaks and suddenly he's moving slow, sinuous, deep and rolling. His wings shut out the twilight, narrowing the world to just the two of them. Feyre's breathing changes and then the moans are long and keening. Rhys holds her gaze as she starts to unravel in his arms. He moves a thumb to circle her clit. He moves in, and out, and in again.

"Come for me," he whispers in her ear, and when she does it's delicious. When she's halfway through her orgasm he picks up the pace again because he isn't going to let her come down. He's got two weeks to make up for.

Feyre is screaming as his hands slide over her and squeeze her breasts. His thumb caresses her nipple, gentle even though his hipbones are knocking hard against hers. He kisses her open mouth and uses his tongue to cut off the sound, and her grip is so tight in his hair.

Please, Feyre finally begs. It's the first word she's uttered since they began. Now it comes in a litany. Please, please, please.

Rhys scoops his hand behind Feyre's head, fingertips scraping against her scalp before pulling her hair so hard her head tips back. Her eyes slide closed and her hands shake on his shoulders.

Please, I need you.

Rhys turns her head slightly to the side using the fistful of hair he's got, exposing more of her throat to him. He bites down between her jaw and her ear lobe, where he can taste her heartbeat and the smell of her is clearest, and when all that's in his mind is his mate, he comes hard in the tight heat of her and she's got tears in her eyes when she comes again with him.

In the fading light, in this sumptuous bed, in the embrace of his lover, Rhys puts his face into Feyre’s neck and breathes deeply. He grins against her dewy skin as he listens to her heart stutter and catch its breath. Feyre sighs contentedly.

”You know,” she says after a moment, “leaving you is almost worth it for the reunion sex.”

Rhys growls at her, tugs her down the bed and flips her over. Feyre laughs breathlessly as he smacks her once on the ass, and then he pulls her hips back toward him and fucks her until her laugh has turned to moans and her moans have turned to sobs. And this time when he’s done with her there are no smart remarks, just her curled up on his chest like a limp kitten and he traces his bitemarks in her skin until she’s falling asleep.

“Alternatively,” he whispers, “you can just never leave me again.”

He takes her lack of reply as an agreement.

**** MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars @fandomstalker27 @realbookloverproblems

[zeroweeenies]

request: [gojo x reader] gojo buys a collar with his name on it and decides to have fun with reader

(smut)

“Property”

Desc: gojo shows you who you belong to.

Character(s): Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.4k

WARNINGS: bunny kink, 18+ minors dni

You heard the door open as you see Satoru appear in the kitchen. You were making his favorite meal, dressed in nothing just the way he liked when returned from a long mission.

Running up to him, you practically jumped on him as you wrapped your arms around his neck, beaming up at his blindfolded face.

“Toru, you’re home!” kissing his chin and jawline sweetly, you nipped at his neck.

“My little bunny’s happy to see me,” he smiled smugly, setting you down and placing a small peck on your forehead.

“Missed you, so much.”

Gojo had been gone for the past week on some big mission. You never knew too much about his work since Satoru shielded you away from the sorcerer world. You were aware of the world, that monsters actually existed and were called curses. You never encountered one though, being that you didn’t wield cursed energy.

But you didn’t need to because Gojo did, and he was the strongest so you knew he’d always protect you.

“I got you something baby, close your eyes.” he reached behind his back to grab something.

Lips forming into a smile, you half closed your eyes, trying to see what he got for you.

“Hey! No peeking” he hid the object behind his back so it was out of your view.

“Okay, okay,” you pouted, finally closing your eyes all the way as you bounced in anticipation.

He waved his hand in front of your face, making sure you weren’t trying to sneak a peek before holding the object out in front of him.

Gojo always brought you back something when he got back from his trips. He always wanted to make sure his bunny was satisfied, whether it be with his love, his cock, or his money, and you loved all three. He made sure to spoil his girl all the time.

“Okay bunny, you can open them now”

With his permission, you fluttered your eyes open as he held out a piece of jewelry before you. It was a jeweled choker littered in white diamonds with his name spelled out in cursive across the front in big cursive letters, ‘Satoru.’ A beautiful teardrop shaped diamond hung from the center, it matched the color of Gojo’s eyes.

Your mouth dropped in veneration, it was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. It looked so expensive, you bet Gojo must’ve spent a fortune on it.

“Do you like it?”

“Are you kidding me?” you broke your stare with the jewelry to glance at the man before you. “I fucking love it!” you pounced on him, attacking him with kisses.

“Thank you baby,” you plant a sweet kiss right on his lips.

“Turn around so I can put it on you,” he patted your ass, prompting you to get down.

You made sure your hair was out of the way as Gojo stepped behind you, his crotch pressing against your naked ass as he placed the choker onto your neck, fitting perfectly like it was meant to be there.

“This way,” you felt his hot breath on you, making your core heat up while one of his hands explored your body, the other coming to rest at the sides of your neck.

“Everyone will know who this throat belongs to.”

“Satoru,” you breathed out

“I’ve been gone for a while, why don’t you remind me what that pretty mouth can do?” he spun you around, easing you to your knees.

He ran his finger across your smooth lips, pushing his thumb into your mouth. You sucked the pad of his thick finger, fumbling with the zipper of his pants as you pulled his cock out.

Your mouth salivated at the view of Satoru’s erection in front of you, it was pale and pink at the tip with veins covering it’s expanse.

You pump him a few times in your hand, making him let out a low groan. Your eyes fluttered up at the white haired man before you, his thumb reaching further in your mouth until you gag.

“How do you expect to take my cock if you can’t even handle a finger in your mouth?. Maybe I just won’t give it to you.”

Your eyes widen, shaking your head wildly.

“I don’t know, bunny” he tsked “I don’t think you deserve it”

“No Satoru! I can handle it, I promise!” you spoke with his finger still in your mouth, drool beginning to leak from the sides.

“Good girl,” he motions your head onto his length, groaning when you finally take him.

You suck his cock just the way he likes, wet and sloppy with lots of tongue. Running the muscle on the underside of his cock, you suck your cheeks in as you bob up and down continuously.

Gojo grabs both sides of your head, taking control as he thrusts his hips in and out of your wet mouth, using you like a fuck doll. His length twitches as you feel his fat tip touch the back of your throat, and you know it’s gonna leave bruises with how rough he’s being.

Tears prick the back of your eyes as he shoots in your mouth, cursing as he continues to release himself. He doesn’t stop until he’s filled your mouth full of his cum, pulling out when he’s finished as he releases his painful grip on your hair.

You swallow like always, his bitter cum washing down your throat and traveling all the way down into your tummy.

Satoru bends down to your place on the floor to kiss you, pulling you to your feet as he hoists you up onto the island in the middle of the kitchen.

“Lay back bunny,” he commands, and you do. He sucks one of your tits into his mouth, groping the flesh with one hand while he focuses the other on your clit.

You whimper as his mouth dances around your thighs, your puffy wet cunt, your entrance, everywhere except where you wanted it to be. He was teasing you. As much as you loved it when Gojo took his time with you, you needed him now, even more so since you haven’t felt his touch in so long.

You buck your hips up to try to get him to lick that spot, letting out a long whine when he pushes your hips back down.

“If you want something, you know how to ask, bunny.” he smirked teasingly

“Please, ‘Toru” you quietly whined.

“You can do better than that,” he slipped two fingers into you easily, making you squeeze your eyes shut and throw your head back.

You were vulnerable, especially in this state where you would do and say anything for him to keep doing what he was doing.

“Please, lick my... lick my p-pussy” you rushed out the last part, too humiliated to say it louder.

He curled his fingers on your g-spot and placed his mouth on your neglected nub, sending sparks throughout your entire body. Your back arched off the counter as Satoru continued to finger you aggressively, his mouth sucking your clit harshly as pain and pleasure consumed you.

Your climax was approaching soon and you could feel yourself getting closer to that release. You felt yourself getting higher.

Higher. Higher. Higher.

Until you felt yourself coming down as you came, releasing your fluid all over Satoru’s face and mouth, feeling yourself becoming empty. He lapped up your cum and juices, licking it all up as if you were his dinner.

Your eyes widened, forgetting about the dinner you were preparing long before he got here. It was probably burning by now.

He licked his fingers clean, pulling you to the edge of the counter while he lined himself up with your entrance.

“Satoru, the food--”

“Fuck the food.”

You were starting to get frantic, worried that the dinner would be ruined.

“But Satoru--” your words were muffled as Gojo removed the blindfold from his face to shove it in your mouth, revealing his crystalline colored irises.

You tasted the juices on the eye covering that were coated with your cum from your previous orgasm, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as Satoru slammed his fat fucking cock into you.

You screamed behind the blindfold as your little pussy struggled to take him into you despite him stretching you out with his fingers.

“You should really learn when to be quiet bunny,” He pulled you up by your neck, his hand resting around the collar that he gifted you.

“My property doesn’t get to speak.”

[readinginthereadyroom]

it’s the queen’s gambit job (lev 4x10) and they are sitting around a table in mcrory’s eating takeout. running down the con.

and nate’s last minute addition of salt to parker’s equipment wasn’t plan b. no, it was plan m.

which is the plan hardison usually dies in. that is if he hasn’t already died in plans c, f, or m thru q. which hardison is VERY concerned about. after all that’s like 27% of the time. it’s a little too close to home.

eliot and parker don’t die in any plans, tho eliot could be permanently disfigured and blinded in one.

nate DOES NOT ANSWER for sophie.

so they are bickering and being found family (and seriously hoping this is just nate messing with them) and parker proposes a toast. to a glass eye.

and I am gonna headcanon that this becomes a kinda inside code. maybe not plan m, but bad. tho the level of bad is never discussed. after all it’s just a joke. right?

so it’s years later and parker’s the mastermind. she regularly assures hardison that there is no plan m. it’s not even in her alphabet. eliot teases her that her plans span different languages. hardison mutters about binary code and quadratic equations. there’s no m in cuniform, right?

and most the time their cons go off without a hitch. parker’s good like that. the best. her plans are like ballets spun between rotating laser beams. both planned to the smallest movement and completely on the fly. set to violin symphanies, country ballads, and christmas carols.

but sometimes the cons go wrong. eliot gets injured. hardison can’t hack the code. she gets trapped inside a building. and sometimes the cons go wrong bad. sometimes it gets bloody.

that’s when they say it. the first time was eliot. he’d been fighting with the mark’s security goons when the gunshot had rung out over the comms. followed by a grunt of pain and the sound of a body hitting the floor. then a terrible silence. parker hates that she knows what it means.

she flips around in the air duct. barely manages to keep her voice low. the cons over. I’m coming to you eliot. the only sound on the comms is the clack of hardison’s lightspeed typing. a buzzing static. do you hear me eliot? I’m coming to get you.

eliot? hardison’s voice sounds so small. that’s when parker remembers that they’d hacked the cctv footage. hardison had seen the whole thing. I-- he-- hardison stutters before rushing out he’s been shot. it’s bad. you got to get to him parker and you got to get to him. now. 

eliot’s gruff drawl interrupts them. I think this might be a glass eye scenario, sweethearts.

hardison’s typing never falters, but his breath hitches over the comms and his voice is strangled—like he swallowed his soda wrong—when he tells eliot to shut up, I am trying to save your ass. you already look mean enough without any damn glass eye.

it’s classic hardison. talking right over all his internal fears. trying to manifest his words into being. eliot’s huff of laughter tho. it’s strained but it’s also the most beautiful thing she’s ever heard.  

parker’s still in the air vent. she’s moving as fast as she can without rattling the ducts. she whispers into her comms. you should have hardison make it bionic. put a laser in it. and after dealing with a tricky corner dip, also it should be green.

more pained laughter, followed by a groan. my eyes are blue, parker. then hardison’s, guess we’ll just have to save you then. keep you from going all 6 million dollar-terminator-borg on us. keep your baby blues blue. parker smiles. she knows her boys. knew they always focus better when they are bickering.

and in the end it’s okay. parker gets to eliot with the first aid kit and patches him up. hardison hijacks them an elevator and they get out safely. eliot’s glass eye is evaded.

the next time it’s hardison. he’s snatched from lucille 5—right out from under their noses. they can hear his squawk of surprise over the comms. the shuffle of bodies and the distinct sounds of fists hitting flesh.

eliot growls deep and menacingly. parker can hear him instantly switch gears—from grifting the mark to protecting the team. his heavy footfalls are followed by offended protestations as he knocks people out of his way. the con is blown but parker doesn’t care.

because there’s snow fizzing in one ear and a polite automated error message in the other telling her all she needs to know. hardison’s gone. taken.

it’s an excruciating 28 hrs later when a text message from an unknown number chimes thru on parker’s backup burner phone. it’s only two words: glass eye.

parker sidles right up to eliot. bumps their shoulders together and shows him the message. it’s hardison. we can track his location if we move quick.

good. eliot’s voice drops from it’s usual honeyed whiskey to bloody gravel. it always does when he’s in hitter mode. tell me where he is. I swear if they’ve hurt him I’ll rip their lungs out. parker nods, hardison’s spare laptop already open on her lap. I’ll help.

hardison’s in bad shape when they find him. but not as bad as his captors once eliot’s thru with them. they’re on the highway speeding toward a hospital when hardison finally opens his eyes. parker can see him smile up at eliot in the rearview mirror before he glances up at her.

it’s my peoples. knew you’d come get me. eliot uses a corner of his bandana to wipe the blood away from hardison’s face. course we did, alec. can’t have you getting any glass eyes. wouldn’t suit you. eliot leans down and stage whispers in his ear, his voice warm and smooth again, you’re not nearly badass enough.

hardison sputters in outrage and parker lets out the breath she didn’t know she was holding. drops the hard line of her shoulders. lets up on the gas. if her boys are bickering then she knows everything is going to be okay.

hardison will be okay. they will be okay. no glass eyes today.

and eventually it’s parker’s turn. it’s not even a proper job—she’s scaling an elevator shaft for recon when a support gives way. and it’s silly. she’s fallen 3 floors and her leg is definitely broken. and she can hear eliot’s voice in her ear saying it was a very distinctive crunch but all she can think is that this is her glass eye.

she must’ve said that out loud because hardison is babbling on about scars and lasers and talking about numbers. seven and nine what? she vaguely thinks it might be some sort of new concussion protocol tho she can’t quite focus enough to make it make sense.

something warm and wet is pooling under her cheek, blocking her vision. oh and that’s it, isn’t it? hardison’s still muttering under his breath and eliot is grunting her name over the comms. c’mon parker you gotta talk to me! I’m coming to get you dammit but you gotta talk. to. me.

can I have a snowglobe in my glass eye? hardison sputters before stuttering—woman I swear you will be the death of me. and she thinks he sounds a little bit relieved. but it doesn’t stop his voice from warbling when he asks, you okay mama?

parker lifts her face out of the tacky puddle it’s in, starts to nod and then immediately throws up. she can’t focus. eliot’s don’t move parker, you have a concussion is followed by a sympathy gag from hardison.

her head is throbbing and her leg feels like it’s on fire. but she can hear her boys breathing over the comms. can hear them cajole her to talk more. they’re coming to get her.

but they’re not bickering. and that feels wrong. that feels wrong bad.

and then there’s a metal scraping sound as the elevator doors above her are pried open. light floods the shaft and parker blinks into it. I can see you she whispers. and she can. they are silhouetted in a rectangle of light above her.

and then they are setting up ropes and climbing down toward her. just like she taught them. and it’s kinda beautiful. even if it’s plan m and a glass eye. I think I broke the pretzels.

when she wakes up it’s two weeks later and she’s hooked up to a hospital bed. her left leg is in a cast and her arms are covered in bruises and rope burn. there’s a bandage blocking half her vision.

but then she sees eliot. he’s asleep in a chair next to the bed, his hand wrapped gently around hers and his head resting on hardison’s shoulder. he looks exhausted. his hair is frizzy and he hasn’t shaved. hardison doesn’t look much better. his mouth is open and he’s half snoring. his clothes are dark and rumpled.

she smiles. she’s always enjoyed catching her boys like this—soft and quiet and together. it’s the next best thing to hearing them bicker.

that’s when she sees it. a sparkle of light, almost like a diamond, on the medical cart between them. nestled in a padded velvet box is a glass eye.

[kenmei]

-ˏˋ FOREVER N THEN SOME! ˊˎ-

♡ gn!reader x kozume kenma

cw: pinch of angst (to fluff !!!), romance, slice of life, crying, established relationship!au, timeskip!au

synopsis: in which he’s actually more traditional than he leads on

wc: 2000+

notes from mei!

ive had this idea rattling around my skull for the longest time

sixteen and a handshake. a standard, normal handshake, but still awkward.

you remember how his hand perfectly fit with yours—how his palms were searing hot as they met with your much colder ones.

you remember him, as a second-year, as the setter for the team you cheered for from the stands. you remember his flushed cheeks when you kissed him on the cheek for a first time, watching as his brain malfunctioned as the rosy hues on his face spread to his neck and the tips of his ears.

you remember him, as the captain, worn out and exhausted at your doorstep.

you recall how he slumped onto you, making you somewhat drag him to your room. half because he really was that tired, and half for his own amusement.

you know him. you know him a bit too well and it’s both a blessing and curse.

because you wonder if he’s finally grown out of it—of this.

looking at the empty spot beside you, you think that, perhaps, he really has—the signs are staring right at you. lately, you’ve been sleeping in a cold bed, waking up to yet again another empty penthouse as you figure he’s at the office again.

(you hope he’s at the office, at least).

texts replies are always hours apart. it seems like he’s been doubling up on streams. friday’s that have always been reserved for two since forever, have only had one person attending these past few weeks.

this is sad, your chest clenches dejectedly at yet another morning where it’s only you. looking around, a part of you wishes that kenma’s actually here, that any second now, he’s going to emerge from his game room, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he scratches his tummy.

because even if you both don’t talk as much as you used to, it’s enough for you simply when he’s present. it’s enough for you when he mutters a good morning, waddling past you to go make his coffee before sitting on the couch.

it’s enough for you when he’s here.

the absolute bare minimum can make you the happiest, but you wonder if even that is too much.

twenty-four and you’re still overthinking.

“just talk to him!” your friends say, but truly it isn’t that easy. even if you’ve both promised to be better at communicating, something about this whole situation makes communication feel so much more difficult.

“you’ve been together for so long, you both still aren’t married?” if you’re being honest, it does bother you sometimes and you wonder if maybe, you should just get on one knee instead.

but you don’t. you don’t because you and kenma already both live(d) like you’re married. you both still share(d) that dynamic of being a laid-back couple who deals with problems as they come.

you don’t think about marriage with him because it already feels right. you don’t mind not getting married and honestly, you’re pretty sure kenma isn’t that kind of guy.

you’re startled by someone poking the side of your head.

your head turns to see kenma, brows slightly furrowed as he analyzes you.

you shake your head, sitting up straight on the couch. “’what’s u—wait, aren’t you supposed to be streaming right now?”

kenma nods his head, plopping into the spot next to you. “ended early. chat was being rude today.”

your head bobs in understanding as you try to find words to piece together. he must be frustrated, you know a little bit about how difficult it can get as a streamer and you also know him, that if he doesn’t want to be near you or hear you, he simply wouldn’t be.

you smile slightly, “t—”

“why are you so tense?” he questions, leaning back. his eyes study you and you feel like hiding.

“’m not.” you defend, shrinking.

“you are.” he replies, “what’s wrong?”

you hum, grabbing a throw pillow and falling onto your side, opposite from him. “class was hard today. your paparazzi found me at the grocery store—”

“that happened last week.”

you groan, because fuck, you really can’t lie to him. he’s too good at getting you to open up, no matter how hard you resist it.

“it’s stupid.” you pout, covering your face with the pillow, already feeling your wound up emotions spiraling back up to the surface.

kenma’s hand lands on your legs, situating them over his lap. he pats the side your calves, humming. “talk to me.”

“what about you?” genuinely, you feel like right now isn’t the best time to talk about this. “you were just telling me about how your chat was being rude!”

“that can wait.” he replies, patient, like he’s always been. “something’s been bothering you, no?”

yes. you think. but i don’t wanna talk to you about it ‘cuz i’m scared.

“are you tired...” fuck, you think, because once again, he’s getting you to talk. “of—of me?”

he’s always been good at this. somehow always getting you to say whatever’s clogging up your mind. he reads you like an open book and you hate it, because even after all these years, it’s still scary.

it’s daunting, because he knows so much about you. if he wanted to, he could pick you apart all too easily, knowing exactly what buttons to push to make you break and that’s scary. it’s terrifying, even.

you feel his hand, as warm as they’ve always been, slide under the bottom of your loose pajama pants, warming up your ice cold skin.

and the feeling is weird, because you feel like you’re on fire, yet his hand is still so much warmer than you.

it’s comforting. you’ve both always been touch-starved and kenma knows this, he knows this as he traces small shapes on your calves, the hem of your pants riding up a bit.

“why would i be tired of you?” he mumbles, eyes moving to see your face is still very much covered with the pillow.

you shrug, leg twitching under his feathery touch. “you’ve been distant and stuff... i dunno.”

and it feels like he’s back at square one with you. kenma feels like an idiot for not realizing sooner, cursing himself for being so caught up with work (and something else) that he’s been neglecting you.

you’ve always been a bit of a crybaby, only him and your close friends know this.

he notes that you tend to cry even when you both have the smallest fights, and it’s something he’s used to.

so to know that you’re holding everything in, it makes his chest tighten.

“i’m sorry, angel.” he says, quiet. “work’s been busy.”

yes, work is busy. even if he finds it enjoyable, it can get taxing sometimes. but he’s also been looking around for something, something that he needs perfect.

“‘s okay.” you mumble and he knows he’s fucking up even more. “i just miss you.”

he tugs on the bottom of your shirt, “c’mere.”

you shake your head and he ponders on what to do.

because even now, even though you’ve both been together for so long that existing with the other is literally needed, there are times when you both get stuck—where existing together feels more complex than it should ever be.

“please,” he pleads softly, “i miss you.”

and if you’re not gonna come to him, he’ll come to you.

so he leans down, forcing you to hold a bit of his weight as he lays atop you. he pulls the pillow away, wiping the few tears away with his thumb.

he kisses your cheek.

twenty-four, you let yourself cry because you’ve missed him so much. seeing other in the evenings or exchanging a few short words doesn’t do it for you anymore, it never will.

another kiss, but on the other cheek. i’m sorry.

another for your forehead, then one more on your nose. i love you.

your hands cling to him and he smiles, caressing your hair. his head lays in the juncture of your neck, frequently wiping your tears with his thumb.

he makes you sit up, only because he wants to hold you.

with your back to his chest, his warm hand envelopes yours. he doesn’t make you face him, because he knows that wouldn’t make you feel comfortable. 

it’s only when he hears your crying subside, that he holds your chin, making you look him in the eyes.

“are we okay?” he mumbles, his lips so close to yours you can feel his breath.

it still gets to you. he still gets to you like you’re both still teenagers; your heart thumps in your ears, body burning because fuck, he’s really close to kissing your lips.

you nod, “’m sorry. didn’t wanna talk to you ‘cuz i was scared.”

his lips slot against yours and it’s gentle, your mind becomes fuzzy with a warmth only kenma can provide you. he chuckles when he pulls away, your lips chasing his.

“don’t worry about that,” he says softly, “i might’ve accidentally made it harder to approach me.”

you shake your head. “thought it was just my overthinking.” you fiddle with your fingers, “i didn’t wanna make a big deal out of it.”

“next time,” he says, “make a big deal out of it. you gotta talk to me, angel.”

you whine, feeling embarrassed because you’ve gotten this lecture from him so many times.

kenma sighs against your skin, wondering if now is the right time. it feels like a good time, but he doesn’t want to waste a special moment because of a good feeling.

“what’s wrong, ken?” you ask, tilting your head back onto his shoulder.

your eyes are red, you’re still sniffling every now and then.

he smiles, hand travelling to his pocket as he pulls out the ring, holding it in front of you. “this is why i was so busy. t—the box is in my gaming room, though, fuck—”

“is that—”

“w—wanna get married, y/n?” his whole face is red. you giggle at his shaking hand as you hold out your own (shaking) hand.

“yeah. i really wanna.”

and you’re crying again as he slips the ring on your finger. the diamonds sparkles at you and you can’t help but fawn over the ring as you sob.

“crybaby.” he mumbles, kissing your cheek. he nuzzles into your neck, arms wrapped tightly around your midsection. “i love you.”

and it’s here you realize that kenma is a lot more traditional than you thought. memories flood in of him always getting you to watch the first snow with him through his window, forcing you under the kotatsu with him as he shows you a new game he started playing.

eighteen. for your two year anniversary, he took you to a place with love locks. signing one off with you before throwing the key god knows where. and you remember thinking it’s weird, because the month before that, he was telling you stuff like that is kinda phony. 

nineteen. you recall him grumbling about getting into a yukata for the festival, but grumbling even more when you gave in and said you’d both attend in normal clothing, because he’s already halfway in the yukata, why would he change? (he just wanted to wear one with you).

twenty-two. his persistence to keep you awake to watch the sun rise on new years.

you realize kenma follows traditions more than you do and you chuckle.

giggling, you hold your hand out where the diamonds on your left ring finger shine happily, tilting your head to kiss him yet another time.

“i love you.”

change. you know your daily lives aren’t going to be much different, but you both like how your last name will be the same as his.

twenty-four. he proposes to you so casually that some might find it weird. but you both aren’t ones for big gestures. you know kenma loves you, it’s in the way he moves your hair out of your face as he asks you if he can still make it up to you.

and he knows you love him, when you laugh and tell him he already has—when you intertwine your fingers with his and kiss the top of his hand, kenma knows and you know, too.

forever it is.

[dreamescapeswriting]

The Punishment ~ SCB [M] [Request]

WORD COUNT: 2.7K

GENRE: Smut, just smut, request

PAIRING: Changbin x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Explicit language, dom! Changbin, Sub!Reader, tying up, butt plugs, orgasm denial, spanking, pet names, degradation, after care, creampie, unprotected sex, use of toys 

It was no secret to you that Changbin had a sensitive back, you'd found out through trial and error and since then you'd been using it to tease him and be the bratty little sub that you were for him but there was only so much Changbin would take before he snapped and punished you for it. You smirked as Changbin continued to thrust into you, tonight was different than normal it was just some vanilla sex to help him relax after a long day but each time he thrust into you hitting that one spot that had your head spinning you cried out his name. Digging your nails into his skin on his arms and dragging them down, you couldn't help scratching him in the bedroom when he made you feel so good,

"F-Fuck!" You whimpered arching your back away from the mattress as you felt yourself growing closer to your third orgasm of the night your head was starting to spin and your nails drug into Changbin's shoulders running them down his soft skin as you cried out his name but just like that he pulled out of you and grunted at you.

"Such a fucking tease," He hissed at you hitting your clit softly with the palm of his hand, you whimpered as the small soft smacks began to turn into rough ones each time.

"W-What? I was-"

"Close? I know Princess," He cooed running his hands up to your breasts as he started to fondle them, massaging them in his hands and smirking as you let out small whines. It was enough for you and he knew that but he'd had enough of you being such a brat, all week you'd done nothing but scratch his back even the smallest of touches made him sensitive to it.

"You've done nothing but tease me all week, I told you not to play around with me!" You could have moaned out at the way he raised his voice in the bedroom, you grew wetter at the thought of what he was going to do to you.

"Changbin-" He growled grabbing your by the neck and applying a small amount of pressure as you let out a choked laugh, you knew he hated to be called Changbin when he was in a mood like this.

"What's my name?" You whimpered looking up into his eyes as he stared down at you applying a little more pressure just to cut off your air,

"M-Master!" You stuttered out, he released his grip on your neck and you began gasping for air while staring at him.

"Good girl, now let's see if you can keep up the good girl act." He smirked getting off the bed as he walked over to the wardrobe, inside - apart from his clothes - was a whole world of toys that he'd grown over the years. Ropes, cable ties, handcuffs, you name it and it was probably in there. Including some vibrating underwear he'd used on you when you were out to dinner a couple of weeks ago with the boys.

"Master, what are you-" You stopped talking when he came out of the room with a small black and red box, that meant whatever he had in store for you was a secret and you weren't going to know what it was until he decided it was time.

"Wrists together angel," You sat on your knees wasting no time in putting your wrists together as he made his way over to you, he pulled out a small silk tie from the box. One you'd gotten him for his birthday this year and he placed the box on the bedside table,

"Good girl, why can't you be this obedient all the time?" You pouted out, you hated being the good girl. There was no fun in being good all of the time because then it would mean no fun punishments,

"I'm always a good girl," Changbin licked his teeth shaking his head at you as he turned you around,

"On all fours, head near the headboard." You did as instructed and he pushed your chest down into the mattress so your ass was angled in the air for him. He slapped across the skin harshly with the palm of his hand and you let out a yelp in surprise,

"That's for lying, we both know you're never good." You smirked into the mattress as he took your tied wrists and attached them to the bed making sure it was tight enough that you couldn't get out without his help.

"You remember your safe word?" He questioned running his hands down your spin and towards your ass, you were still just as wet as when he was fucking you, if not wetter and he chuckled pushing two of his fingers into your cunt.

"Y-Yes! Green, Yellow and Red." It was one of the basics but it was something you both knew very well, so far with Changbin you'd only ever gotten to a yellow. He was always careful with you no matter how lost he got with you.

"Good girl, eyes forward." You looked at the headboard as you heard him rummaging around in his box you wondered for a second what he could be doing when you felt something cold squirt onto your ass. Your breath hitched as you felt him rubbing the lube around your hole, he noticed your body tense up,

"Relax princess," As much as he was mad and punishing you right now he wanted to make sure you were okay with everything happening, he would never make you do something you weren't comfortable with, you took a deep breath letting it relax you.

"Good girl," He pushed a finger into you first, trying to warm you up before he slotted the black butt plug into you. It was one of his favourites, the top was a love heart-shaped fake purple diamond it was one of the gifts he'd gotten you when you first got together.

"C-Chang- Master," You breathed out as he slowly pushed the object into you, you whined out at the new feeling. Anal wasn't something you were used to yet which was why he'd gone for a smaller sized plug rather than the bigger ones.

"You like being stuffed full don't you angel?" You nodded at him as he began rubbing your ass cheeks before slapping it when you didn't give him a real answer,

"Words. I want to hear you,"

"Yes, Master! I love being stuffed," You whimpered your eyes shooting open as his hand came into contact with your ass cheek again,

"Good girl," He then took something else from the box but you couldn't tell what it was, a curved massage wand called 'the squirter' it had dots on it to resemble suckers from a tentacle making your head spin with the sensations when it was inside of you. Not to mention it hit your g-spot with ease thanks to the curvature of the toy.

"I don't think you deserve my dick, tonight angel," You frowned wondering what he meant when the cold toy came into contact with your core, he was pushing the tip in an out of you so you could guess what it was. As soon as your head rolled forward and you let out a whimper he pushed it into you softly not wanting to hurt you,

"Fuck!" Your hands gripped onto the tie around your wrists and he chuckled darkly if you could see him you would see his eyes glazed over darkly at the sight of you like this for him. Fully stuffed except for your mouth, he didn't want to stuff your mouth he wanted to hear every moan and whine leave your body as a punishment for scratching his back. For making him sensitive he was going to make you just as sensitive if not more.

"Your language is disgusting!" He grunted rewarding you with a slap across your ass cheek, you were sure by the end of the night you wouldn't be able to sit down or walk straight.

"S-Sorry Master," You whined out looking over your shoulder at him, he chuckled licking his lips as he began to push the toy in and out of your dripping core. It already had you moaning from the feel of the toy,

"Clenching so much I can barely move it, you really like being filled huh?" You nodded desperately, rolling your head forward as you let out a loud moan. As soon as you were used to the feeling of the toy Changbin began to roughly push it in and out of you, wanting to bring you close to your release.

"M-Master!" You warned him looking over your shoulder at him again, your back dipping as your body began to betray you. Your legs were already shaking and your stomach was beginning to tighten as your oncoming orgasm approached,

"I-I'm gonna cum!" You cried out closing your eyes tightly as your toes began to curl, as soon as Changbin saw that he ripped the toy out of you leaving you to wiggle as your orgasm slipped away from you.

"W-What...B-But- Master?" You wanted to cry from the sudden intenseness being ripped away from you like that,

"I told you I was going to punish you, colour?" You whimpered rolling your head forward in defeat,

"Green." You admitted and he smirked running his fingers through your folds and licking them clean,

"Maybe I should taste my little toy...Would you like that?" Another slap across your ass,

"Yes please," Manners were everything to Changbin in the bedroom, the box was opened again and something was pulled from inside. More lube was squirted out and then something pushed inside of you,

"T-The lush bullet?" Your eyes were already rolling back from the thought of this being turned on inside of you,

"Good guess," He chuckled turning the small bullet onto the lowest setting and watched as you wriggled, the sensation wasn't enough to bring you close to an orgasm but it was enough to torture you to a moan.

"Look at you wriggling when I've barely started," He grabbed onto your ass with both hands and squeezed your cheeks roughly before leaning down to lick your slit with his tongue in small kitten licks.

"Master," You breathed out finally feeling something from him on you, he chuckled sending extra vibrations through your body.

"What angel? Do you want something?" He questioned reaching under you to rub your clit with his thumb, creating small fast circles as you moaned out.

"F-Faster please," You pleaded with him looking at him as he sunk back down behind you and began to eat your out roughly, turning up the vibrations of the toy buried deep inside of you.

"YES!" You screamed out your eyes widening as the tightness quickly returned to your stomach, the toy was on its highest frequency and Changbin began dipping his tongue in and out of you to bring you closer to your release.

"S-Sir," Your voice came out shakey as you rocked back on his tongue, earning yourself a slap across the clit making your legs spread and cause you to almost sink into the bed but Changbin kept your up with his arm.

"Close?" He questioned, his mouth never leaving your core making his word vibrate on you more, you could do nothing but nod all words had left your head by now.

"Words!" He growled grabbing onto your ass and roughly dragging his nails into your skin.

"YES! I'm close! Fuck I'm so close!" Admitting you were close meant this was going to go away and you hated that, you bucked back against him trying to achieve your orgasm but he ripped it away from you. Pulling the toy from your core while it was vibrating and moving his lips from you.

"I-I can't take much more," You whimpered your eyes filling with tears as he ripped your orgasm away from you right as you were about to release.

"Do you want me back angel?" You nodded at him,

"Yes master," You whimpered rolling your head forward in defeat and he smirked, he didn't want to push you too much tonight so he rubbed his tip at your entrance.

"Let me hear you beg for it then princess," You let out a gasp feeling him at your entrance, the bratty side of you begged for you to move backwards so he would slot right inside but the smarter part of you knew it was a bad idea.

"I want you buried deep inside of me please master, I want you to fuck me so hard I can't remember anything except your name." You were dying for him to push into you,

"I want you to fill me up," You knew that was the one thing that would make him push into you, there was one thing about Changbin you knew all-too-well. He loved finishing inside of you, watching as your juices mixed together and spilt out of you ruining the mattress or sheets below you.

"Ugh shit," He grunted deeply as he pushed into you until his length was buried inside of you making you cry out his name, he didn't care this time though. You were so tight around him, he could feel your walls pulsating around him as he tried to move. You whimpered each time he moved in the slightest, you could have cum on the spot just from him being deep inside of you.

"Fuck you're like a vice I can't move," He grunted slapping across your ass making you release some of the grip you had on him and he moaned out your name beginning to rock his hips with a little more force.

"R-Right there," You whimpered looking over your shoulder to lock eyes with him, his eyes were shut as he continued to push in and out of you moaning out your name as his hands held onto your hips tightly.

"S-Shit! Master," You cried out rocking your hips as he began to slam in and out of you, pulling almost all of the way out only to slam right back into you at the last second and have you screaming out in pleasure. You could feel every inch of him inside of you making your head spin as your stomach tightened, the look on his face made your eyes roll back,

"Close." You warned him but not wanting this to stop but he didn't, he continued thrusting making sure you could feel every inch. His tip hitting your hilt with ease as you continued moaning out louder,

"C-Close!" You screamed pulling at the tie trying to fight back from cumming right on him, he bent down closer to your ear hitting deeper than before, he felt as though he was in your gut making you cry out and a squeal leave your throat,

"Cum for me angel, you've earnt it." You whimpered as your legs began to shake, your stomach tightening until it finally snapped from its grasp.

"Shit! I'm cum-cumming!" You whimpered your hips bucking backwards automatically as he continued to thrust inside of you your walls clenching around him as you cried out his name.

"O-Oh fuck angel," He grunted his hips jutted as he continued to thrust into you, filling you up as he looked down to see both of your juices leaking out already. Creating a loud squelching sound as he continued his small thrusts, each thrust making you whine and whimper at the stimulation.

Changbin was laid behind you keeping you wrapped up in his arms, he'd pulled the plug from you right away after finishing and began applying some cream to your ass cheeks to cool them from his spanks.

"Do you want a hot bath? A drink? Something to eat?" You smiled tiredly as he began to question you on what you wanted,

"I want you...Just hold me," You yawned closing your eyes as you tried to focus on his heartbeat to fall asleep to, he smiled softly kissing your cheeks as you began to drift off in his arms, he pulled another blanket over your body and snuggled against you for the night.

Tagline: @peachyhan @taestannie​ @jooniesdarlingdimples​ @spearb1108​

[lostcoves]

ft. tendou satori x fem!reader

genre: fluff & a lil angst 

wc & warnings: 3.1k | none

premise: tendou satori has a massive crush on you. could performing with you in beauty and the beast be his chance to finally get with you?

tendou satori loved you.

plain and simple, he loved you. he loved the way you walked, the way you talked, everything about you screamed beauty and grace. you laughed at his poor jokes and smiled whenever he smiled at you.

tendou didn’t understand why you were so kind to him.

you were a beauty while he was a beast.

an irony that would come forth during shiratorizawa academy’s annual charity fundraiser. 

“hello i’m (l/n) (f/n) from the drama club!” you greeted tendou’s homeroom class one cloudy morning. tendou was in the middle of trying to balance a pencil on his finger when you began to speak about the annual charity fundraiser. apparently, the drama club was putting on a musical and needed more male participants.

“you should try out, tendou-san!” his classmate– a freckle faced boy by the name of kawasaki hitoshi– proposed to tendou. tendou paused from balancing his pencil and asked, “huhhhhh? how come?”

“cuz everyone knows about your massive crush on (l/n)-san,” kawasaki snickered. other boys joined in on the snickering and kawasaki exclaimed to you, “(l/n)-san! tendou-san will participate!”

your eyes brightened at the mention of tendou’s name, “really?!”

“well, i mean– oh thank you, tendou-san!” you cut him off with an embrace. tendou’s cheeks turned as red as his hair at your touch, you were so soft and squishy. you released tendou from the hug (much to his dismay) and handed him a flyer, “auditions are tomorrow! can’t wait to see you there!”

tendou watched as you scurried off to the next classroom before examining the flyer. it was in bright, obnoxious colors with the words ‘BEAUTY AND THE BEAST AUDITIONS’ in bold. 

oh the irony.

─────────────────

“you’re trying out for a musical, tendou-senpai?!” goshiki yelled at tendou during lunch. tendou shot him a stare and signaled him to lower his voice. goshiki covered his mouth and nodded before resuming his eating. 

ushijima, reon, and semi stared at tendou and the four didn’t speak, unsure of what to say to one another.

“will this interfere with volleyball practice?” ushijima asked.

“i don’t think so,” replied tendou before picking up a chunk of white rice, “the practices would be during school hours since it’s a charity event and what not.”

ushijima nodded, “good. you should do it then.”

tendou choked on his rice, “are you serious?”

semi nodded along in agreement, “i think so too. i mean, why not? now you’ll have an excuse to be around (l/n)-san without being a creep.”

tendou scoffed at semi’s commentary and fought the urge to give him the finger. reon chuckled at the exchanged and added his two cents, “i think it would be a great idea, as well. it would also look great on college applications from a community service and extracurriculars side of things.”

“not you too, reon..” tendou groaned, “i’m not–”

“hi, tendou-san!”

tendou nearly screamed and whipped his head around to see you standing behind him, smiling happily. tendou cleared his throat and attempted to be a cool guy, “heyyyyyy, (l/n)-san! what’s uppppp!”

“just wanted to say hi!” you answered, batting those gorgeous lashes of yours, “you’re still coming to auditions tomorrow, right?”

tendou looked back at his friends, all of which gave him double thumbs up.

“yeah, of course! wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

tendou just dug his own grave.

─────────────────

tendou nearly forgot how big shiratorizawa’s auditorium was. it felt daunting, as he stepped inside and made a beeline towards the stage. a group of students stood by the stage, practicing their lines and singing their songs. 

“tendou-san! you made it!” tendou looked down and saw you approaching him. he swallowed his nerves and greeted you with a smile, “heyyyyy, (l/n)-san! how you doing today?”

“i’m doing great!” you answered, “are you ready for your audition?”

“yup!” tendou smiled, “but if you don’t mind me asking, (l/n)-san, who are you trying out for?”

“i’m going for belle!”

the lead? of course, you would get the lead. tendou remembered seeing you perform in the blossoming of kamiya etsuko where you played the titular character. you brought tears to the audience’s eyes with your amazing performance. 

“oh that’s cool! i– er.. i’m going for the beast!”

damnit, tendou! were you trying to embarrass yourself?

your eyes sparkled like diamonds at tendou’s words, “really?!”

tendou masked his anxiety with a laugh, “haha! for sure!”

“i can’t wait to see you perform!” you gave tendou a high five, “break a leg!”

oh he would break a leg, all right. hopefully, in a literal fashion.

─────────────────

“tendou satori?” the director– an over zealous english teacher by the name of hasegawa ryuji– called tendou onto the stage. tendou felt like his legs were jelly, wobbling with each step he took. he gripped onto his sheet music tightly, as he made his way on stage. 

“what song will you be singing for us today?” hasegawa-sensei grinned. 

“i’ll be singing–” tendou scanned the crowd and found you among a group of girls. you locked eyes with him and mouthed, ‘break a leg! you got this!’ to him, “–if i can’t love her.”

not many people knew tendou’s secret but he took vocal lessons from the ripe age of five and until he entered high school. his parents forced him to go in an effort to improve his social skills and make him more approachable. while it didn’t improve his social skills, tendou gained a nice singing voice.

“you can begin at the start of the music.”

tendou took a deep breath.

do it for (y/n).

the music began to play.

and in my twisted face there's not the slightest trace of anything that even hints of kindness and from my tortured shape no comfort, no escape i see, but deep within is utter blindness

tendou’s voice was gentle yet powerful.

hopeless as my dream dies as the time flies love a lost illusion helpless unforgiven cold and driven to this sad conclusion

tendou pictured all those times people made fun of his looks. every person who laughed at him, every person who shunned him. he channeled that into his singing and thought of you, you with your kind nature and you with your warmth.

no beauty could move me no goodness improve me no power on earth, if i can't love her no passion could reach me no lesson could teach me how I could have loved her and make her love me too if i can't love her, then who?

who would love him? tendou was but a beast. hideous and unworthy. 

long ago i should have seen all the things i could have been careless and unthinking, i moved onward

tendou looked out among the crowd and stared at you. 

no pain could be deeper no life could be cheaper no point anymore, if i can't love her no spirit could win me no hope left within me hope i could have loved her and that she'd set me free hut it's not to be if i can't love her let the world be done with me

i could only wish you could love me, (y/n).

the music came to an end and a shush fell over the auditorium. tendou’s cheeks flushed a warm red, did he mess up?

applause suddenly exploded among the crowds. tears were in the eyes of hasegawa-sensei, “that was amazing, tendou-san! your voice was just perfect!”

“o- oh!” tendou cleared his throat, “thanks..”

he could only hope he was good enough to get the role.

─────────────────

“are you going to check the cast list?” ushijima asked a few days after the auditions. tendou saw people crowding outside hasegawa-sensei’s classroom, the bulletin board containing the cast list for beauty and the beast.

“i rather not,” the redhead grumbled. 

“tendou-san!”

tendou perked up at the sound of his name. it was you, standing before him with that dazzling smile of yours. 

“wanna check the cast list with me?” you offered to tendou. 

how could he say no to you?

“sure thing!” he chuckled before approaching the cast list with you. the crowd parted like the red sea upon your arrival. tendou’s eyes started from the bottom of the list, thinking he got an ensemble role.

“hey tendou-san?”

“yes, (l/n)-san?”

“look up.”

tendou looked at the top of the cast list and choked when he read who got the role of the beast.

TENDOU SATORI – THE BEAST 

his eyes darted up above it and tendou nearly fainted.

(L/N) (F/N) – BELLE

tendou was in for a whirlwind.

─────────────────

tendou paced outside the auditorium, unsure if he should head inside. today was the first of ten six hour rehearsals for the musical and tendou was panicking. should he face the music or cower in fear?

“tendou-san? are you okay?”

shit, it was you. tendou couldn’t let you see him like this. he plastered on a grin and turned around to greet you, “hiya (l/n)-chan! how you doing!”

“i’m fine–” you cut yourself short, “–oh, (l/n)-san? that’s a new one. i like it.”

tendou laughed nervously, adverting his gaze from you. damnit, why did you have such an effect on him? 

“well, i’m heading to rehearsal so come along,” you grabbed him by the hand and dragged tendou into the auditorium. you were surprisingly strong for such a short person, or at least someone shorter than tendou. 

the auditorium was jam-packed with students conversing excitedly about the show. tendou felt as if he was the only one not completely invested in the show. after all, he only auditioned for you.

“attention, cast members!” hasegawa-sensei called everyone’s attention. he then launched into some speech about rules and expectations, to which tendou toned out. all he could focus on was you. 

rehearsal went by at an agonizingly slow pace. tendou managed to introduce himself to the rest of the cast, most of which knew him from the volleyball team. still unused to the environment, tendou stuck by your side like a lost puppy dog. 

tendou remembered sprinting out of the auditorium the moment hasegawa-sensei dismissed everyone from rehearsal. he wasn’t sure how he was gonna balance schoolwork, volleyball, and the musical. but the one thing he did was it would be worth it to spend more time with you.

nighttime fell over shiratorizawa academy by the time tendou got out of volleyball practice. he dragged himself out of the gym, not even bothering to see his goodbyes to his teammates from how exhausted he was. 

“tendou-san?” you approached the redhead outside the gym. tendou rubbed the guck out of his eyes and waved to you, “oh hey, (l/n)-san.”

“tired?” you offered tendou a sympathetic smile.

tendou nodded and let out a yawn, “very.”

“here,” you handed tendou some canned coffee, “this should help.”

“thanks,” he cracked it open and took a generous sip. tendou let out a satisfied sigh and smiled, “this is some good coffee.”

“glad you like it!” you returned tendou’s smile. tendou could feel his chest tightening at the sight, you were just.. beautiful. it wasn’t fair, you were too beautiful for this world.

“oh, by the way.. whatcha doing outside the gym?” tendou questioned to you.

your cheeks heated up, maybe from the cold air or maybe from embarrassment, “i– i just wanted to tell you that you did a great job at rehearsal today! that’s why..”

tendou’s chest tightened at the praise, “oh really? that means a lot, coming from you!”

“of course!” you brushed back a loose hair from your face, “and i wanted to extend an offer to you.”

“oh?” now tendou was intrigued. 

“if you need any help with rehearsing our one on one scenes, i’m more than happy to help! like our kissing scene!”

tendou grinned, “alrighty! thanks, (l/n)-chan!”

wait, rewind.

kissing scene?

─────────────────

tendou paced about outside of the auditorium. rehearsals were half way through and tendou had yet to confront the fact that he had to kiss you in the show. he should have had read the script ahead of time; what did he get himself into now?

“tendou-san, are you alrighty? you look pale in the face,” hasegawa-sensei greeted tendou by the doors to the auditorium. tendou nearly puked on his shoes but put up his typical tendou satori charade, “oh hey, sensei! how– er.. how are you doing?”

“i’m fine. tendou, what’s wrong? you can be honest with me,” answered hasegawa-sensei with a frown. tendou broke character and confessed to his director, “i’m scared about the kissing scene.”

hasegawa-sensei patted tendou on the back, “oh, it’s more than fine to have some first time jitters! if it makes you feel better, it will be a stage kiss. you won’t actually be kissing (l/n)-san.”

tendou wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or disappointed.

“tendou-san? hasegawa-sensei?” speak of the devil– or in your case, the angel.

“morning, (l/n)-san! ready for rehearsal?” hasegawa-sensei turned his attention to you with a grin. you nodded and fist-pumped the air, “ready as i could ever be! we got this today! right, tendou-san?”

“yup!” he chirped in response, trying his hardest to conceal his fear. 

did tendou really got this?

─────────────────

tendou laid on the auditorium’s dirty stage, eyes closed and pretending to be dead. this was the moment where he would be revived by true love’s kiss. he anxiously waited for you to pretend kiss him.

“please don’t leave me.. come back,” you stage-whispered your line, leaning in to “kiss” tendou on the forehead.

then the worst thing imaginable happened. 

some dust from the stage floor got up into tendou’s nose and he jerked upwards in an attempt to sneeze. his lips collided with yours in a messy kiss, the two of you kissing one another with wide eyes. 

tendou could only stare when you pulled away with wide eyes. he felt like vomiting, as the crowd in the auditorium fell silent. hasegawa-sensei broke the silence and exclaimed, “take five, people!”

tendou stormed out of the auditorium with you hot on his tail. he managed to find a quiet place to hide when you appeared, covering his face in shame. tendou looked back up at you and his voice croaked, “hey.. (l/n)-san..”

“what happened (l/n)-chan?” you asked. 

“i don’t think i have the right to call you that after what happened,” grumbled tendou in embarrassment. you took a seat next to him and rested your head against his shoulder, “hey it’s okay! i know it was an accident! the stage floor is so dusty, it’s only natural for you to sneeze.”

“that was my first kiss.”

“what?” you blinked once, then twice. your face erupted in a fierce blush, “oh– oh my god! it was?! d– did i take your f– first kiss?!”

“hey, hey!” tendou gently gripped you by the shoulders in an effort to calm you now. you stared at him with an erratic look in your eyes, “i– i’m so sorry! you should have had your first kiss with someone special!”

but you’re someone special, (y/n)-chan.

“i’m glad it was you.”

“wh– what?” you stammered.

“i’m glad my first accidental kiss was with you, (y/n)-chan,” tendou replied. 

your face flushed at his words, “n– now, i’m (y/n)-chan? god, y– you’re gonna be the death of me, tendou-san..”

“you can call me satori if you want,” tendou commented to you.

you smiled, “well.. okay, satori-kun. let’s head back to the auditorium.”

god, you were going to be the death of tendou satori.

and you two haven’t practiced the second kiss yet.

─────────────────

today was the day, opening night for shiratorizawa academy’s production of beauty and the beast. tendou was being held hostage by the makeup crew, as they applied his beast makeup. it itched, the fake fur itched against his skin. 

“we need tendou on stage in five!” the stage manager called for him. tendou rose from the makeup chair and examined himself in the mirror. the makeup crew did a great job, he truly looked like a beast. 

“ready to wow the crowd, satori-kun?” tendou turned around and found you standing in the doorway, dressed in belle’s village girl costume. god, you looked adorable. 

“ready whenever you are,” tendou gave you a thumbs up. you returned the thumbs up with a smile and extended a hand to tendou, “let’s wow this crowd.”

tendou took your hand and squeezed it, “let’s wow this crowd.”

the musical progressed quite smoothly, tendou nailing every line of dialogue and music. the crowd was mesmerized by his singing voice and acting skills, as well as yours. 

then it was time, time for the kisses.

tendou laid motionlessly on the ground, thankful that the tech crew dusted the floor beforehand. no more accidental kisses! you approached his still body with heartbreak in your eyes, “please don’t leave me.. come back.”

tendou felt your sweet lips against his forehead, his eyes opening wide and the music playing to play. he “transformed” before the crowd, morphing from a hideous beast into a handsome prince. 

tendou stood before you, dressed in his princely garments and smiling bright, “belle,” he greeted you breathlessly. 

nerves overtook tendou’s mind, as the second kiss– the kiss on the lips– quickly approached. he took a step forward and covered both of your lips with his hands, just as hasegawa-sensei taught him. 

then something unexpected happened.

you pressed your lips against his, a full blown kiss. tendou remained still as possible, unsure what to do. you– his crush– were kissing him. you were kissing him, tendou satori of all people.

fuck it, he thought to himself and allowed himself to get lost in the kiss. the curtains closed on the two of you kissing. tendou didn’t pull away, too into the kiss to realize what was happening. 

“wow,” tendou whispered when the kiss was broken. you touched your forehead to tendou’s and giggled, “that was great, satori-kun.”

“that almost felt.. real,” he sighed with a smile.

“that’s because it was,” you answered, “i like you, tendou satori.”

everything came to a standstill the moment those words came out of your mouth. you liked him? you liked tendou? for real? you weren’t kidding? you actually liked him for him?

“i like you, (l/n) (f/n),” tendou finally responded after a moment. you broke out into a grin and kissed him again, the two of you unaware that the curtains were rising. a shush fell over the crowd at the sight. you two didn’t realize that your mics were on for the long exchange.

“go tendou! go (l/n)!” 

the silence broke. the crowd erupted in cheers, essentially derailing the show. you and tendou looked out onto the crowd sheepishly, both of you holding one another’s hands.

the beast got with the beauty.

tendou couldn’t have asked for a better ending. 

[secondhand-trash]

Santa Baby

A/N: the holidays just makes me want to be spoiled yknow...

Description: Been an awful good girl, Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight.

Pairing: Yaku Morisuke x f!reader

Warning: pwp, fingering, vaginal penetration, sorta dirty talk?, creampie

Word count: 2416

-

It all started with dancing, a bottle of champagne, and a diamond necklace.

The glasses of sparkling had made you giddier than usual, giving him a childish chuckle when he told you to close your eyes mischievous mid-swirl as the tunes of jazz hummed softly across your dimly lit living room. Perhaps it was the way your bodies had melted against each other as Yaku held you by the waist through each step or the fire play that seemed excessive in your apartment all year round except for this one occasion, but your face heated up like you were far ahead of being just slightly tipsy as he landed a kiss at the convex of where your neck extended downwards. 

You gasped when you felt the coldness touching your collarbones a few moments later. The dainty stones that were threaded into a thin line now sparkling with each rose of your chest had you at awe, but you quickly turned to him with a light-heartedly accusing glare.

“What happened to budgets?” You sucked in a deep breath as you traced the diamonds resting on your neck but it only seemed to amuse him even further, “you’re gonna make me feel really bad for never getting you anything that matches what you get me in value.”

He chuckled, closing your gaping lips up with a peck as he grinned.

“What do you mean? I love what you got me.” He said with a quirk of his head, his finger twirling the little silver chain that was now dangling behind your neck.

You rolled your eyes, tracing the vein at the side of his forearm that was now resting against your shoulder as you sighed, “I got you a knee pad, Mori.”

“And I love it.”

“That,” you gritted through your teeth in between his kisses that just kept interrupting you, “is not the point and you know it.”

He blinked, before the large grin returned as he leaned closer to you.

“Think about it this way,” you were taken back when you felt his warm breath at your neck, the lingering scent of champagne making your head dizzy with his voice low in your ear, “you shouldn’t feel bad if I’m doing this for myself too.”

“What do you-” 

Your words were cut short when he sucked down at the pulse point at the side of your neck, your lips falling open as he took you by surprise. 

Yaku winked at you, his hands already resting by the side of your hips and inching upwards into the dress he insisted you wear for your little two-person home party.

“My baby deserves all the best things,” he muttered as his lips trailed down while his fingers were already tracing the underwire of your underwear, “it’s only right that I do my part in making sure you’re rewarded for being a good girl all year round.”

You were high in the intoxication of his murmurs, of his hands that were already snaking behind to unhook your bra. His lips were warm against you as he mapped out each line and curve on your shoulder, making you shiver every time his tongue even neared the cold jewelry that was so stark compared to the fire he elicited in you with each touch.

He pulled you down onto the floor with him in a kneel, the softness of the fur carpet under your knees as he bunched up the fabric of your dress. His hands were cold, warming up the longer they stayed on your skin and each imprint carving into your bones as he pulled the garment off of you. You hissed at the chill that fanned across your bare skin but the sound was quickly swallowed by the invasion of a heated kiss, his tongue leaving a burning taste in your mouth as you latched onto him.

The firewood cackling at the side was all that accompanied the muffled whimpers and pants, the warm glow fanning out behind his frame making your thighs clench from how it accentuated all his best features as he backed away only to undo the row of buttons leading all the way down his abdomen.

His shirt was just hanging off his back as he pushed you down until you were laying flat on the carpet. The luscious coat rubbing against your bare skin had your senses flaming up and matched only by the hunger that was set off when he lunged forward until you were caged under him. A broken whine slipped past your lips when he cupped your breast, his fingers rolling the tip that was all stiff from the cold as the other ran down your waist before stopping at the plushness of your thigh. He fondled with the soft flesh before sliding his hand dangerously close to where to where your wetness was already starting to pool, pressing down on the flimsy fabric that cladded your cunt with his middle finger.

“Mo- Mori...” you whimpered when he pushed the strip to the side, running his index finger between your folds and parting them as he collected your arousal on his fingertip.

“Mhm?” he hummed, darting his tongue out to wet his lips at the way you shuddered as he tear your panties off your legs agonisingly slow, the contortion of your expression far too good of an image for him to miss out on.

You let your head fell back when he parted your legs, a soft coo rolling off his tongue at the sight of you clenching around nothing. The warmth of the fire making you look ethereal as you laid there bare, quivering with each drum of his finger on your skin and open for his eyes to rake over. There was a rush of adrenaline through his veins as he perched on his knees, towering over you while taking in the plumpness of your skin as you waited for his next move with baited breath, all naked except for the string of diamonds that sparkled on your neck like stars, like specks of firework, like marks.

But no possession in the world could be more precious to him than the soundless sigh you let out when he finally touched you where you had yearned him to.

Jolts shocked up your spine when his finger traced out the shape of your lower lips, circling around your clit before giving the sensitive bud a light press. The wolfish whistle he made had your scalp numbing while he starting moving his finger, never once stopping with the pressure he applied to you. You arched off of the carpet when he finally slipped a digit into your drooling hole, not giving you the time to adjust before adding another. The stretch had you rolling your eyes back, your toes curling on the fur that pillowed you when he dredged them along your walls.

He brought his pace up gradually, the lewd squelching of his fingers slamming into you as you panted had you writhing. His knuckles brushed against your opening with each plunge, before pulling back out just to feel you sucking him back in.

“Hn-!”

You hissed when he tugged you towards him by the necklace on your neck, the quick pain from the pull taken over by the deepness at which he could thrust his fingers up against the spot that had you collapsing on him while his free hand ran along the stones on your neck.

“Beautiful,” he whispered against your chest, staring up at you as he left open mouthed kisses along the center of your body. Your fingers dug into his shoulders when he suddenly stopped, the halt of his movements making your walls clamp down as he spread the liquid that now coated his digits along your fluttering cunt.

He landed a quick slap to the side of your ass, kneading the flesh as your body jolted forward. You whimpered when he slid you off his lap, giving a mean-spirited rub to your cunt when he pulled his hands back all while lingering on your body through the way.

“On your knees.”

The familiar sound of belt buckle rattling had you arching yourself up as you got on your fours, slowly pushing your chest down until your upper body was pressed on the carpet. The diamonds dangling on your neck were sure to leave some nasty marks on you with the way the bastings of each stone grazing your thin skin on the delicate area.

Sucking in a deep breath when his thumb brushed against your folds, you let out a choked mewl when he spread your cheeks to get a better look at how sloppy you were. He had his hand on the small of your back, pressing down gently on the dent at the center when he slapped his half-hard cock on your cunt. The moan that came out of your throat was embarrassing, but you could not even register it as your own voice while your hands clawed at the strands of fur beneath you.

You shuddered when he rubbed his length along your cunt, the tip teasingly dipping in before circling around your lips.

He chuckled at the broken whimper that ripped from your throat when he finally gave into the shaking of your body. The rush of heat seeped right into your core as he stretched you out, filling and warming inside of you when he went balls deep in you with the initial push. Your lips fell open, burying your face into the carpet at the numbing fullness. The burn was suffocating as he stayed still in you, hands on both sides of your hips holding you in your place. 

The heat radiating from his body was right at your back as he slowly climbed over your frame, each heave of his chest making you bite down on the inside of your cheek harder to stop the sounds that were about to slip out from being audible.

He placed a starkly tender kiss at the blade of your shoulder, only to follow it with a strong thrust. Your hand found leverage in his arms that now trapped you between them as your knees were near collapsing, each surge of his hips slamming into you deep and hard. His stomach was taut behind your back, the rippling muscles flexing with each tightening of his core as you squeezed down on him. The sound of skin slapping skin bounced off the walls, your ass pressing against his pelvis snugly each time he bottomed out inside of you and your skin was stinging from the shocks of pleasure when his nails dug into your skin.

All that you could utter out was an incoherent, sloppy mix of his name and other obscenities. Your mind was a melting mess, trickling down like a puddle as he fucked you senseless. 

“Please please please please-”

His hand shoved between your breasts and the carpet, pushing you off the floor as he held you be his chest before it traveled upwards.

Your breath hitched when he brushed past the necklace that was now shifting on your neck with each shudder of your body.

“How can I stop spoiling you when you look so good in everything I get you?” he grunted in your ear, the vibration that followed each word had goosebumps rising on your skin. 

His thrusts were now fast and rapid, drilling into you with determination to chase the growing breathiness of your moans. His tip nudged against the spongey spot deep in you with each frantic snap and the fire that had been burning at the pit of your stomach was starting to grow dangerously hot.

“Maybe I should make you wear this every time I play with you,” he mused, his breath wet on your earlobe, “so you can’t even wear it out without feeling my hands on you-”

Thrust.

“My cock in you-”

Thrust.

“And my cum dripping out of you.”

A sharp cry accompanied the waves of pleasure crashing down on you. He held you tightly in his arm, propping you up while your legs were about to give up on you. You were seeing white in your vision as his movements went sloppy, riding on each pant and grunt in your ear as the sparks in you slowly faded out.

It finally came to a finish in the form of a rush of warmth in your core, his hips stilling as his girth pulsed with each shot of thick cum unloading in you. He moaned, shaking as he tried to hold his composure. 

The erratic patterns of your exhales slowly came down to the same tempo. He load was close to running down where your bodies still connected and the subconscious clench of your walls only pushed the mixed substance of your release out of your worn hole. 

He coughed at the feeling, pulling out his now limp cock out of you when he felt a fuzzy rush in him budding once again. You whimpered at the sudden emptiness and turned into a content sigh when he helped you onto your back, pulling you against his bare chest as he locked you in his arms.

He hummed, a soft sigh slipping past his lips.

“I was going to get you a ring instead.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the gentle tone. His finger toyed the largest diamond on the string, chuckling to himself as he put it back down on your chest, “But I figured it might not work the best in my favour in the years to come if special occasions like these fall near the holiday season.”

You blinked, staring at the man now lying next to you.

You were both naked, on a carpet that you had likely ruined, with the fireplace still burning at the side and a half opened bottle of champagne abandoned to the side. The jazz was still playing, and you realised it now when it was only the firewood burning, the music humming and his breaths that you could hear.

While he basically just told you that he wanted to marry you.

You laughed, and he grinned at the disbelief in your eyes. “And you’re just going to tell me that now and have me wait?”

“Just a little,” he said as he brought your hand up to his lips, grinning against your finger until the peak of his cupid’s bow was hovering above your ring finger.

“Just a little.”

[lookatyoustrawberrynerd]

Forgiven - Gajeel X Levy

WARNINGS: Light swearing

WORD COUNT: 1.9k

GENRE: fluff, slight angst

FANDOM: Fairy Tail

PAIRING: Gajeel x Levy

The guild hall was loud and rowdy as ever as Gajeel sat alone at the bar, drinking whatever the hell Mira had put in his mug. It didn't matter to him as long as it got him drunk.

"Getting a head start today are we?" Gajeel turned around and saw the small master of Fairy Tail climbing into the stool next to him.

Gajeel chuckled as he took another swig, "It's gonna take a lot more than this to get me drunk, old man."

"Oh I don't doubt it," Makarov replied. He signaled for Mira to pour him a drink, then promptly chugged it down as if it were nothing but water. "Your tolerance must be impeccable if this is what you're putting away this early in the morning."

Gajeel smirked, "years of practice."

The two men chuckled as they drank together, falling into a comfortable silence as the guild hall roared behind them.

A small pair of arms wrapped themselves around Gajeels shoulders as a kiss was planted on his cheek. Gajeel turned his head to face his bright eyed girlfriend Levy.

Gajeel couldn't help the smile that came to his face every time he saw her. "Hey short stack," He said as he gave her a quick peck on the lips.

Levy ignored the nickname, "Me and the guys are heading out on a job for a few days."

Gajeel grunted, "is anyone else going?"

Levy shook her head, "No, but the job isn't that dangerous. Just a simple escort mission for a Lord and his daughter."

"Still, I'd feel better if you took Lily with you," Levy puffed our her cheeks.

"I can h-"

"Trust me Lev, I know you're capable of kicking so serious ass, it's the other two I don't trust." Gajeel looked behind Levy at Jet and Droy stuffing their faces.

Levy sighed, "fine, you big baby."

"That's my girl." Gajeel leaned in to whisper in Levy's ear, "I'll make it up to you when you get back."

He couldn't help but laugh as his girlfriend turned bright red in front of him. "I-I gotta go now!" Levy gave Gajeel a chaste kiss on the lips. He watched her as she met the black exceed by the door.

"Hey," Gajeel called out to Jet and Droy before they could join them. They walked over to Gajeel who then grabbed them both by the wrist and pulled them in close. "If she comes back with a single scratch," he hissed, "I will put you two in a fucking coffin."

Jet and Droy both shivered as they nodded frantically. Gajeel let go of them and they practically ran out of the guild hall. Sighing, Gajeel turned back around to take a drink, already missing his girlfriend.

"I must say Gajeel," The master started, "when I first took you in, I never would have imagined you would have fallen for my little Levy."

A faint blush dusted over his cheeks, "Well," He didn't like thinking about his time before Fairy Tail, the person he was, but he couldn't help it as the memories came back, "I was a real piece of shit back then."

He didn't realize how hard he was gripping the handle of his mug until he let go of it, revealing dents in the shape of his fingers.

"Shit," he muttered as Mira came up to grab the mug from him, "I'll buy you a new one."

Mira just laughed it off, "No need Gajeel. If we had to replace every dented mug in this place, we'd go bankrupt!"

"Mira, could you give us a minute?" Makarov asked. Nodding, Mira walked into the back room, leaving the two men alone at the bar.

"I was wondering when you were gonna cut to the chase," Gajeel said.

"Yes, but I believe it is you with something to say, my boy." The two men sat there in silence for a few seconds before the master asked, "Can I see it?"

The box in Gajeels pocket suddenly felt like a weight dragging him down. In one fluid motion, he grabbed the box and slid it to the old man next to him, careful to not let anyone see it.

Makarov pulled back the lid to reveal a small iron ring. Intricate designs of swirls carved to look like vines and flowers decorated its sides, meeting in the middle to hold a heart shaped diamond.

"How did you know?" Gajeel asked.

"I know a lot of things, Gajeel. I just happened to catch you staring at it when you think no one is watching." Makarov said as he twisted the box around to look at the ring from all angles.

Gajeel nearly choked on his drink, "fuck," he muttered. The master chuckled and clapped Gajeel on the back.

"It's a beautiful ring Gajeel," he said, sliding the ring back to him. "You must love her a great deal."

Gajeel smiled softly, "Yeah," he looked at the ring and closed the lid with a sigh. "I don't deserve her."

"How so?"

"Are you serious?" Gajeel asked, but Makarov stayed silent. Softly, Gajeel said, "I hurt her."

Makaraov hummed in acknowledgement, "So that's it huh?" Memories flooded into Gajeels mind. Him attacking her that night, the way she screamed, her nearly lifeless body hanging from that god damned tree. Gajeel swallowed down the bile rising in his throat.

"I hurt her, Master. I hurt her and her friends and laughed about it, bragged about it. But the moment I joined the guild, she treated me like nothing had ever happened. I wasn't 'Black Steel Gajeel', I was just Gajeel Redfox. If I'm being honest, it kinda pissed me off."

The master hummed, "Really?"

"Yeah," he replied, "it pissed me off because I had no idea why she would even bother being nice to me. I wouldn't have been. But of course, she's just that wildly forgiving of other people. I didn't deserve her forgiveness, and that's why it pissed me off."

"You have long since been forgiven for your sins of the past, Gajeel" The master said. Gajeel whipped his head to face him.

"What?"

"Do you know why I chose to recruit you instead of the other members of Phantom Lord?" Makarov asked and Gajeel shook his head. There was no hint of sarcasm or condescension in his voice, just plain sincerity. "I picked you because not just because I wanted to help you find the right path, but because I knew that it was possible. I saw a light in you that had been clouded by Jose and his teachings. The things you did were deplorable, and you know that more than anyone, but answer me this. Would you have done the things you did that night if Jose hadn't ordered you to?"

No. He wouldn't have. He didn't even go as far as he was supposed to that night. Jose had ordered him to kill Levy, Jet, and Droy, but he refused.

Makarov continued on, "Ever since I took you in, you have done nothing but prove me right. You have shown that you are willing to fight for your family and that you're proud to be a fairy, and we're proud to have you."

Gajeel looked around the guild hall as he processed the masters words. He looked at the people he had met over the past several years, and he realized he was proud. He had made legitimate friends in a guild he once tried to destroy and fell in love with a girl he had almost killed.

All those nice thoughts however couldn't stop the doubt from creeping into his mind. "Even still, I can't provide for her. It took me months to work enough jobs to even buy the materials for that ring, and it's not like those jobs were easy."

"You and I both know she doesn't care about that."

"But I do master!" Gajeel slammed his fist on the bar a little louder than he wanted to. Some people looked their way for a moment but quickly resumed doing whatever it was they were doing. "She deserves the world, but I simply can't give it to her."

Makarov took another swig of his drink, "You're right. She does deserve the world. But she wants you," He stood up on the bar stool and made eye contact with the man across from him. "We all have our demons, Gajeel. We all have scars that will never fade, those voices in our heads that tell us to just give up and that we'll never be good enough. But you are lucky enough to have a family that will support you in every choice you make, and a woman who loves you with her entire heart.

"You will have to live with the things you have done for the rest of your life. You cannot go back and undo it no matter how much you wish you could. What you can do is live every day showing how much you've grown. You have atoned for your sins. Levy, Jet, and Droy have forgiven you. I have forgiven you. Now you must work to forgive yourself. And if you never do, that's okay. Just don't let it stop you from living your new life.

"Never forget Gajeel that you deserve happiness just as much as everyone else under this roof. If that means a future with Levy, then I will spend every remaining second I have left ensuring that future comes to pass, and every second after that protecting it. On my honor as the master of the Fairy Tail guild."

Gajeel didn't know at what point he had started crying. No one had ever told him that he deserved to be happy, but here was someone saying it as if it were the most obvious thing it the world.

"Master I-"

"Do you love her, Gajeel?" Makarov asked.

In that moment, Gajeel saw Levys face. Her bright smile, her eyes that always sparkled, her blue hair that reminded him of the sky, the way she puffed her cheeks whenever he teased her.

He remembered all their missions together, their time in the military, all the times they had nearly died; Tenrou Island, Tartaros, Alvarez, he had never felt fear the way he did when he was confessing to Levy as he was slowly dying, and the pure elation he felt when he finally saw her again.

He thought about what he wanted in the future, and in his mind he saw Levy in a white dress walking down the aisle. He saw with a hand on her rounded stomach. He saw her reading to their children and him singing to them. He saw them growing old and gray together. His heart swelled with emotions he had never felt before as he looked into the future.

Every day he wakes up to Levy lying next to him, and he always thinks that he'll never be able to fall for her more than he already has, and every day he is proven wrong.

Gajeel smiled as he wiped away a tear from his face, "more than anything."

Makarov returned his smile, "Then marry her Gajeel. You have my blessing. Make a family with her. Make a life that both of you can be proud of living. Make her as happy as she makes you." Makarov held out his hand and Gajeel took it in his.

"I promise I will," Another tear fell down his face, "Thank you master."

"You're welcome, my son."

[artificialqueens]

Cause Somewhere in the Crowd (There's You) (Diamond Chaney) - Plegdoctor

A/N: Not much to say for this one really, just a short Diamond Chaney girlband au based off Super Trouper by ABBA. Enjoy!

--

The other girls were more excited than she was, unpacking the van and chatting animatedly while all Lawrence could do was stare around. The building in front of her was imposing in more ways than one – physically huge, towering over her and casting a shadow on the otherwise sunny day, but also mentally imposing. Lawrence can still remember walking into it when she was a small girl in primary school, brown hair in neat plaits and eyes as wide as saucers as she hung onto her best friend’s hand and gaped.

Now she’s standing in front of it, brown hair dyed a vibrant purple and thrown into a ponytail at the top of her head, her eyes wide as saucers, and her hand empty.

It had all gone a bit too far really, starting with Bimini slamming their fists on the table in year 12 and excitedly suggesting they start a girlband (“Well, three girls and me innit”) and Lawrence can’t trace her finger along what happened next to lead her to standing in Glasgow, a sinking feeling in her stomach as she realises what she’s doing there.

“You alright babe?” Lawrence turns to look down on Bimini, standing next to her with a concerned frown on their face. “Excited to be back in your hometown?”

Lawrence forces a laugh, a fake smile slipping onto her face in an action that more natural than she would care to admit. “Loving it Bim.”

Bimini grins. “Good. Just think, it’ll be like facing 20,000 of your friends.”

Lawrence’s snort is genuine at Bimini’s words, her eyes rolling fondly at the never-ending optimism of her tiny friend. “I don’t think there’s quite that many seats, babes.”

Self-proclaimed monarch of the PMA, Bimini simply shrugs and pivots to run towards Tayce who is three seconds away from dropping the crate full of water on her foot. Lawrence watches the scenes with a hint of amusement, the weighted feeling in her stomach settling. Her mind goes back to Bimini’s words, the thought of facing 20,000 of your friends. There’s only one friend that Lawrence wants to face when she’s on stage tonight – and that friend is currently on the other side of Scotland in her hairdressing salon.

The thought weighs on her mind until it’s pressing against her cranium and cracking her skull by the time she’s thrown herself across the hotel bed and sighed for approximately the 50 millionth time.

Lawrence loves what she does. She does. She loves her friends, Bimini, Tayce, and A’whora. She loves the process of writing new songs, long hours locked in the studio throwing harmonies and lyrics around until it just sounds like pure gibberish. She (secretly) loves learning the choreography that Tayce insists they must do, repeating the wee steps until her body finally moves in the right way and Tayce enthusiastically high fives her. She loves getting into costume and makeup, the process transforming her from Lawrence Chaney who got picked on in school into international popstar Lawrence Chaney who regularly performs on the biggest stages all around the world with her girlband.

They’ve worked hard for what they have too. Lawrence likes to tell people that becoming a household name is no overnight feat. From the day that Bimini first suggested it, to the joyful tears rolling down their faces as they came second on the X Factor, to their first single blowing up. They’ve worked hard every step of the way and been rewarded for it.

So why does Lawrence feel so ready to give it up? Part of the success that never ends is continuing to work, but for the past two months Lawrence has done nothing but eat, sleep, and sing. Her throat is raw and at moments she thinks she’s going crazy.

Her eyes catch her phone, dressed up in the delightfully tacky pink phone case that was a gift from Ellie for her last birthday. She picks it up and the screen flickers to life, displaying a picture of two girls with their heads close together and identical smiles.

Lawrence hasn’t spoken to her in far too long. Recently the whirlwind of life has swept her up to much for her to even think straight let alone have a conversation with a human being who is not also obsessively repeating lyrics under their breath.

“Hey.”

It’s a lonely word.

“Hey. It’s good to hear from you.”

Then Lawrence hears that voice, that accent that is so soft in her ear, and she could cry.

“I didn’t disturb you did I?”

“No hen, it’s fine, I only jumped so much at the ringing of my phone that I shaved some wee granny’s curls off but I’m sure she’ll forgive me.”

Ellie’s bored and matter of fact tone makes Lawrence burst out a laugh. “Poor Doreen, she’s really got to stop trusting you with those clippers.”

She can only imagine the way the corner’s of Ellie’s mouth might turn up at her teasing. “How is the salon anyway?”

“It’s in good hands. But babe, forget the salon, how’s your tour going?”

Even Ellie, the girl who knows her better than anyone else in the world, is excited for Lawrence and that only breaks her heart more. She grins ruefully, despite the knowledge that Ellie can’t see her.

“Honestly? I’ve been wishing that every show was the last show.”

Ellie’s little high-pitched noise of protest comes from her throat, her mouth undoubtedly in a little O shape with her eyebrows sliding upwards. “But you’ve only just got to Glasgow! You wouldn’t want to miss that!”

“Do you remember that trip to the theatre in primary school?”

A beat of silence at the other end of the line. “Of course I do. The one where I almost threw up on the bus because you fed me too many sweets?”

Lawrence chuckles. “Aye. Love how that’s the thing you remember about it.”

Miles away, Ellie shrugs cheekily. “I never forget friend abuse.”

“You’re such a wee cow, you know that right?”

“All part of my charm.”

“Anyway, being here is just making me realise how much I miss home. Tour is great Els, but I miss everything. I miss you.”

Ellie laughs. Lawrence shoots up in the hotel bed in outrage. “I just poured my heart out to you and you laugh at me?”

“First of all, not sure saying you miss me is pouring your heart out.”

She’s glad she chose to do this alone in the room and not anywhere near the other girls. She can’t begin to imagine the way that A’whora would pounce on her flushed face.

“Second of all, I wasn’t going to tell you this but I have a surprise for you. Listen.”

Ellie switches the phone to speakerphone and holds it away from her ear. In contrast, Lawrence presses her ear against the screen harder, knuckles white as she grips the pink case.

At first she can’t hear anything, just the faint murmuring of people talking in the background. She strains to listen for the sounds of hairdryers and flowing water. None of that comes and Lawrence lets out a huff of frustration.

“Ellie, explain to me exactly what the fuck I’m meant to be listening for?”

This train will depart at Glasgow.

Lawrence’s mouth dries completely.

“You’re coming to Glasgow?”

“No, just got on the train there for a bit of fun, I’m going straight back. Might not even get off the train it’s so comfy.”

“Get to fuck Els, I’m meant to be the funny one in this relationship.” Her mouth might be dry but her eyes aren’t, small jewels of tears welling up and threatening to spill over with every shaking word.

“I’m taking that title for now. I just need you to be the famous one in this relationship. You can do that, can’t you?”

“Ellie, for you I would do this entire tour all over again.”

Closer to her than she realises, Ellie smiles. “Good. See you on stage.”

“I’ll be thinking about you only.”

The call ends with a smile on Lawrence’s lips and a single tear sliding down her cheek. Suddenly she feels alright. And it’s gonna be so different when she’s on the stage tonight.

--

“Alright slags! Lawrence’s hometown so we’re gonna rock it just as hard as we always do. Hands in and United Kingdolls on three! One, two, three, United Kingdolls!” All four of them cheer, hoisting their hands in the air.

Their little preshow chanting may seem silly to other people but they’ve always done it. Even when it was only them singing covers with Ellie doing their hair and makeup, and A’whora ripping through charity shops to find decent costumes. It feels only fitting that they still do it now when they’re singing their own songs in professionally made costumes and makeup done by a professional artist.

Lawrence still keeps the style of her hair the same though. It’s changed colours a few times over the years, but it’s always in the same curls that Ellie brushed through minutes before the sixth form talent show.

Lawrence inhales as the music starts. The beat is steady and familiar, but tonight it feels so much more electric. She knows that the minute she’s on that stage she’s going to get blinded by that one beam of stage light that always finds it’s way to her eye, but she won’t feel blue like she always does.

When she gets on stage her eyes roam the massive crowd until she sees, in the very middle of a group of screaming girls, a head of baby pink hair. The sight of her proves to Lawrence that she’s still alive, and Lawrence uses that spark of energy to throw everything into her performance. She hits every note perfectly, her body moving in perfect harmony to the choreography that she usually fucks up at least once.

There’s a massive smile on her painted lips and she hopes that Ellie can read the smile, know that because of her, Lawrence is having fun on stage for the first time in months. There’s four of them in the band, but tonight Lawrence feels like a number one. The lights do not blind her but find her instead, shining like the sun.

They finish the first song with a flourish and Lawrence ignores the hundreds of screams to find Ellie’s. They still have the rest of the show, but Lawrence knows that they’re going to get through it and give Glasgow the best concert they’ve seen in years. Then she can stumble off stage and go from popstar Lawrence to Ellie’s Lawrence, falling into her arms and holding her tight. It’s gonna mean so much more tonight.

Because, somewhere in the crowd, there’s Ellie.

[jobean12-blog]

Top Shelf: Chapter 19- Book Ends

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (bookshop, bartender, baking AU)

Word Count: 2,096

Summary: Spring is on the way and with it lots of new ideas and beginnings...

Author’s Note: So I have this ready and I was excited to post so it’s a little early again. I know the moodboard probably gives too much away but I enjoy making them so much! Hope you love this chapter and I did it justice. It was hard to imagine how this would go down but I think it was grand enough in the choice of place and the words and attention to detail that make it work without being too much. I’m rambling! The Meatball Shop is such a great place, check it out here, I’m hungry just thinking about it! haha I hope you like it and THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart for your continued amazingness, you are all the best! Much love always! ❤❤❤

Warnings: SUPER SOFT FLUFFY SWEET LOVE :) 

Top Shelf Masterlist

It’s early Sunday afternoon when you get the text from Peggy that the wedding proofs came in. You and Nat reply with several uppercase letters and happy emojis, agreeing to meet at Peggy and Steve’s for dinner and a browsing party. “Hey babe?” you shout, waiting for Bucky’s reply. He pops his head out of the bathroom, “yea baby, what’s up?”

You rush over to him and do a little dance, “Peggy said the proofs came in so we’re gonna go over there later and eat and drink wine and look and photos and no boys allowed!” He starts laughing before you even finish the sentence, shaking his head to get rid of some excess water. “Hey! You’re splashing me!” He drops the towel from around his waist and rubs it over his hair. “Better?”

Keeping your eyes on his you cross your arms, “mmm, I don’t know, let me check.” You walk closer and run your hands through his hair, the soft fluffy locks only slightly damp now. “Yes, better.” His arms snake around your waist and he pulls you all the way into the bathroom, picking you up and sitting you on the counter. “You have way too many clothes on,” he simpers, spreading your legs and standing between them. “Well then you better do something about it before I leave.”

-Cut to Bucky’s POV about and hour later-

“Hey Steve, can you meet me today? I’m sure you know Peggy got the proofs and the girls are coming by your place to look at them. It’s the perfect opportunity for us to go.” Steve chuckles into the phone, “of course, wanna grab a bite first? Let’s get tacos!” Bucky’s stomach grumbles as he happily agrees, quickly getting off the phone before you come into the room.

*****

When you arrive at Peggy’s she already has the wine out along with some snacks. Nat shows up a few minutes later and you all get comfy on the couch. “How did you get rid of Steve?” Nat asks, shoving some cheese into her mouth. “He said he and Bucky were gonna get tacos then go see Sam.” Nat finishes chewing, "that sounds about right.” You all laugh, ready to enjoy the beautiful photos and help Peggy pick some out.

You get home later than you thought, finding Bucky standing in the kitchen, a cookie half stuffed in his mouth. “Hi doll face,” he mumbles through a mouthful, “did you have fun?” Grabbing a cookie for yourself you kiss his cheek, “I did, the photos are amazing! There is one of us dancing that is so perfect Bucky! I ordered an 8x10 so we can frame it and hang it up!” His eyes light up, “that’s great, I can’t wait to see it.”

“So how many tacos did you eat?” He’s about to pop another cookie in his mouth but he stops, eyebrows knitted as he thinks over his answer. “Hmmm, probably like 12.” He shrugs, eating the cookie whole and going to get some milk. Downing the small glass, he says, “these are really good by the way, is this the new sugar cookie recipe?” You do a little happy dance, “it is! I think I finally got it right! They’ll be fun for Spring because I can do all different shapes and decorations!”

Bucky reaches his hand into the cookie jar for another one, but you smack it, “don’t do it, you’ll get a stomachache.” He makes a sad face, giving you his best puppy dog eyes. “Save it Barnes! And save some cookies so we can snack tomorrow! I can’t have you eating my bookshop supply!” He puts his hands up in surrender, “fine, fine. But they are really good!”

Later that night you’re cuddled up in bed, reading your book while Bucky absentmindedly plays with your hair. “OH!” he nearly yells, making you jolt and sit up. “Sorry, I just remembered something I wanted to ask you. He smirks, continuing on, “so Spring is right around the corner and the weather is getting nicer and warming up so I was thinking we could set up some tables outside the bookshop. Maybe add an awning or just umbrellas and plants or something.”

You watch him talk, his eyes bright and excited and when he finally stops rambling you crawl on top of him, kissing his lips. “That is an amazing idea baby! I love it!” His eyes crinkle in a smile, “ok great, I’m glad, I thought you would like it.” A few comfortable moments of silence pass while you stroke his beard, lightly kissing along his jaw. “You know what else is coming up,” he says, almost dreamily. “What?”

He stops your hand and holds it, kissing your palm, “the anniversary of the day we met. Do you remember it?” Playfully tapping your chin, you pretend to think it over. “Ummm, I think so, maybe. I mean it was SO LONG ago.” He rolls over and squishes you into the mattress. “Oh. I see how it is. At least we know one of us is a romantic!”

A few weeks later…

You walk outside with a hot cup of tea and some of your rose macarons, placing them down in front of Grandma Betty. “This should warm you up a bit!” You sit down across from her, wanting to take minute to say hi. “It’s really quite beautiful out, I love that you set up this area.” She bites into the cookie, immediately smiling. “Oh, these are just delicious! Well done sweetheart!” You bring her two more before going to the back to put more in the oven.

“Grandma is loving those rose macarons baby, nice work.” He gives you a quick kiss before grabbing more coffee. “Can you save some for us, I was thinking maybe we could stay at the bookshop tomorrow night since I’m not working the bar. Would be the perfect snack.” Smiling over your shoulder you happily agree. “I should have some left and if not, I can easily make another batch just for us.” Bucky licks his lips and winks, heading back out with the coffee.

Bucky lays back against the pillows on the floor, hands behind his head and his long legs stretched out in front of him. “What are you doing doll?” His eyes follow you as you walk around the attic, scanning the bookshelves and quietly humming to yourself. “Just looking for something to read, any ideas?” You can’t see him, but Bucky let’s out a silent breath, rubbing his hands together and standing. He wipes his palms on his sweatpants and walks toward you.

“You know we never finished ‘The Never Ending Story,’ we could read more if you like?” Smiling at him over your shoulder you walk toward the shelf it’s on, filing through the spines in search of the title. “Perfect.” Pulling it from the shelf you hug it to your chest and turn toward Bucky. His eyes look bright with tears and you rush over to him, taking his hand in yours. “Bucky? What’s wrong?” He raises his hand to cup your cheek, brushing his thumb across your lips before kissing you.

The softness of the kiss takes your breath away and when you open them Bucky smiles, looking down at the book in your hands. “Ready?” You simply nod, lovingly stroking the cover of the book and thumbing the pages. You notice the ribbon bookmark, fingering the silky fabric before following it down and opening to the page it’s on.

Your eyes drop to something that catches the soft glow of the star lights hanging from the ceiling, it’s sparkle dancing over the words on the page. Your hand covers your mouth, nothing but a muffled cry escaping and when you look up Bucky is on one knee in front of you. The tears that filled his eyes earlier threaten to spill from the corners as he reaches up to take your hand in his. Your lower lip trembles and you squeeze his hand so tight, feeling as if you might float away at any moment.

“That’s for you.” You both laugh through your tears and you try desperately not to throw yourself into his arms, knowing he has more to say. “I knew you were special the day we met. And every day after I fell in love with you, with my eyes wide open, choosing you every step of the way. And I’d choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality. I’d find you and I’d chose you. You will never be anything less than everything for me. Will you marry me, y/n?”

You fall to your knees and throw your arms around his neck, sobbing into his shoulder and saying “yes,” over and over again. He holds you for what feels like eternity, the thundering beat of his heart in sync with yours as it becomes steadier and your tears begin to dry. Lifting your head, you kiss him a thousand times, but it never seems enough and finally he says against your lips, “do you want to get a better look at the ring?”

Your cheeks are red and still wet from tears, but your smile is bright. “Yes! I’m just. I’m so happy, Bucky.” He picks up the book and unties the ring. Taking your left hand in his he slowly slides it onto your ring finger, kissing it before you pull it away to admire how perfectly beautiful it is. “Wow, it’s gorgeous. I couldn’t have picked a better ring myself!” You move your hand back and forth, the light from the moon filtering through the skylight reflecting off the diamonds and painting your face in shimmers.

“I can’t wait to marry you, Bucky.” You barely whisper the words, but they hold more weight in their honesty than any others, as if your heart spoke them.  The mood shifts and Bucky has you in his arms, his body covering yours and his hands and mouth desperate to feel every inch of you. The sounds of city outside melt away and it’s only you two, skin to skin, every nerve ending alive with each other’s touch.

Thankful that you don’t have to wake up for anything you both sleep late into the morning, the sun bright and shining through the window, heating your bare skin and rousing you from your slumber. Your head rests on Bucky’s chest as you gently scrape your fingers through his beard, causing soft hums of pleasure to rumble through him. “I could stay like this forever.” Cuddling closer and pushing off the blanket you joke, “me too, except we might cook first.”

His laughter shakes you more awake and you roll over, stretching your limbs. The sunshine catches the facets of your ring, making it sparkle brilliantly and you can’t help but let out a squeal. “OMG BUCKY IT WASN’T A DREAM!” He takes your arms and brings you back to him, “no, it wasn’t. But it is a dream come true, you’re really gonna marry me.” Wiggling your fingers to get one more look you turn your eyes to him, “I can’t wait to tell everyone.”

“Why don’t we get dressed, and head home to shower then we can see if anyone is around to meet for lunch? Wanna go to The Meatball Shop, I’m already hungry.” You’re about to tell Bucky you are too but your stomach grumbles, saying it for you and you laugh. “Definitely, I could go for a giant plate of spaghetti.”

Once you’re back at your apartment you get yourself cleaned up, Bucky handling the texts to see if Steve, Peggy, Nat and Sam can meet you. “Did you hear from anyone?” you ask Bucky as you fix your hair. “Nat said she and Sam already ate but they expect us at the bar later and Peggy and Steve are on the other side of the city so it’s just us I think.” Smiling you skip over to him and plant a kiss on his lips, “sounds good to me, I’ll just tell everyone we see on the streets the news.”

You decide to walk to the restaurant considering it’s such a nice day and Bucky keeps you busy by asking you questions about when and where you want to get married. You don’t realize you’re just steps away from the front of the restaurant and your friends are waiting outside the door until you hear Sam yell, “well, I guess this means she said yes!”

@aesthetical-bucky​ @book-dragon-13​ @bugsbucky​ @buckys-broody-muffin​ @breezy1415​ @eurynome827​ @hiddles-rose​ @hawksmagnolia​ @hailmary-yramliah​ @ikaris-whore​ @itsunclebucky​ @jhangelface0523​ @jewels2876​ @lorilane33​ @lokilvrr​ @littledarlinhavefaithinme​ @littleredstarfish​ @mushyjellybeans​ @loricameback​ @marvelgirl7​ @marvelandotherfandomimagines​ @nano--raptor​ @pinkdiamond1016​ @randomfandompenguin​ @sallycanwait68​ @tuiccim​ @the-wayward-robot​ @yansi1923​ @flyawaybay​ @throwmyheartawayagain​ @amandatar-06​ @nd1998sc​ @captainchrisstan​ @vherriepie​ @godofplumsandthunder​ @fire-flv​ @jamesbarnesappreciationclub​ @irishflutiegirl​ @rinthehufflepuff​ @moonybarnes​ @nordlysinthewoods​ @lauratang​ @my-favorite-fics-and-imagines​ @buchanansebba​ @addikted-2-dopamine​ @lady-pswrld​ @buckys-henley​ @lookiamtrying​ @mishaandthebrits​ @hopefuldreamers-world​ @rebekahdawkins​ @randomesk-yuku​

[crashdevlin]

Another Second Chance 1- Black Hole

Another Second Chance Masterlist,  Happily Ever Eventually Masterlist

Author’s Note: The final (hopefully) installment of the Happily Ever Eventually RPF series.

Summary: It's been five years since Jensen broke Y/n's heart and she's avoided him completely, but avoidance only lasts so long.

Pairing: past Jensen x Reader

Word count: 2302

Story Warnings: past cheating, little bit of background angst, mostly no warnings.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Things change. Either gradually or in catastrophic leaps, things change. Fact of life, unfortunately. Songs have been sung, books have been penned, movies have been made, all centered around that single inarguable fact.

When I was a younger woman, I thought that nothing really ever changed, that the facts of my life were that I was weak and stupid and I was always going to be in love with people who didn’t want me and were too good for me, that I was going to be miserable and alone forever. I was certain that I was the same person at 26 that I was at 16 and that’s just how things were always going to be.

I can honestly say, at 34 years old, I’m a different woman than I was at 16 or 26 or 30...and I may be alone, but I am not miserable.

I’m successful. I’m happy. I have friends and I have fans. I am well-rounded and, despite a hundred things working against me, well-adjusted. I’ve learned that I don’t need to be dating someone to be happy. In fact, without all the drama surrounding me whenever I do date someone, I’m happier. I have my children and I have my friends and I am happy. 2025 is shaping up to be one of my best years yet and I am ecstatic to see where it leads.

I’m sitting at my computer when my phone goes off. I don’t recognize the number so I Google it. King Woods Private School, the school Jensen wants to send Mav to. Weird that they’d call me when Jensen has primary custody. I answer immediately. “Hello?”

“Is this Miss Y/l/n? Maverick Ackles’ mother?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Hi, Ma’am. I’m Caroline Smith, Dean of Admissions for King Woods Private School. Your son’s father applied to our institution for the Fall semester for Kindergarten.”

“Oh, yeah. He told me. Said his father is very excited to get him in there.”

“His father didn’t tell you?”

“Mav’s nanny mentioned it, too, but...Jensen and I-”

“Had a very public falling out a few years ago, we’ve done our research,” she interrupts me. “But the thing is, King Woods is a very family-oriented institute and we need both parents to participate in all activities like monthly PTAs and volunteer nights. We need to make sure that both active parents can work together amicably. On that note, we have an admissions interview with little Maverick on Friday and we require your presence. Can you make it? 10:30 am.”

“Ten-thirty on Friday? Y-yeah. I can...I can totally do that. I will...see you then, Mrs. Smith.”

“See you then, ma’am. I’m looking forward to meeting you and your son. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.” I set my phone to the side of my laptop and take a deep breath. Jensen and I haven’t been in the same room since NolaCon 2020. We’ve emailed a few times, but haven’t even spoken on the phone...in several years...and that’s better. It’s better for everyone if we don’t talk because then we don’t argue and we don’t fall into patterns that leave us in bad shape.

But for Maverick’s future, for Maverick’s good, I will have to do it.

I call Misha. He encourages me and tells me it’ll be okay. He supports me. He’s an amazing friend, has been for years, one of the few I got in the breakup. Most of our friends specifically didn’t take sides. Kim and Briana and Misha, they sided with me...the girls a little more vocally than Meesh, but it ended up a small rift between Misha and Jensen. I put an end to J2M and it hurts a bit when I think about it. They still talk sometimes but nothing like they used to.

Jared still talks to me every once in a while, but he sided with Jensen. Of course he did. Jensen’s his brother. But Jared tries to keep me involved in his life, he tries to stay a friend...but he’s Jensen’s first, always has been.

“It’s gonna suck,” I say, shaking my head.

“Yeah. But still. You gotta do it, right?” Misha says and I chuckle. To the point with Mr. Collins.

“Yeah. I gotta do it. It’s just...I haven’t seen him in years. I mean...except pictures on Instagram. It’s gonna be weird.”

“You know what I say about weird, right?”

“Yeah. But this isn’t the GISH and Random Acts kinda weird, this is...a pit in my stomach that feels like a bowling ball and a fear of reversion to the person I was in the past kinda weird.”

“You’ve grown too much to revert and that bowling ball will go away when you get comfortable again.”

“That’s…that’s the problem. What happens if I get comfortable with him again, Misha?” I’m scared of it. “He’s like this black hole that sucks me in every time and the only way I’ve been able to stave off the destruction of my universe these last five years is to keep my distance. I don’t know what to do when I’m in close proximity to the black hole.”

“You can do this, Y/n. You won’t have any problems...and maybe Jensen’s grown over the last five years, too.”

“Well, you’ve talked to him more than I have. You’d know how much growing he’d done.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like we’re spending all our time together anymore.”

I nod. “So...hope for the best, that he’s grown and things will be okay, and keep my distance from the dark vortex.”

“Exactly.” Misha smiles and looks directly at the camera. “You got this.”

Yeah, I do. I got this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wear an embroidered black silk Joanna Mastroianni dress to the interview. Not a lot of makeup, but enough to accentuate my features. I keep my hair out of my face and I wear sensible, cute shoes. I look good, but not like I’m trying to look good. I look like I’m trying to look presentable and classy for the people in charge of my son’s education.

I make it to the school first and I sit in a plush chair in the waiting room and wait with my legs crossed neatly to the side. I pull out my phone and start playing a game of Solitaire.

“Mommy!” Maverick’s voice pulls my attention away from the Seven of Hearts that is stuck behind the Six of Diamonds that is arresting my forward momentum in the game. I smile as he runs at me, full-speed, and I slip my phone in my purse as he throws his arms around my neck. “I missed you!”

“I missed you too, Mav!” I exclaim. I lean back and look into the beautiful green eyes he inherited from his father. “Have you been having fun with Daddy?”

“Yes! All the time!” Mav says.

He turns his head to look at the door to the lobby as Jensen walks in. Holy shit. He let his hair grow out a bit...little longer than when he was playing a demon. It's multi toned, what would be called 'Salt and Pepper' in any other man, but it looks more like 'Walnut and light Roux' on him. He's rocking his ginger beard and it has some actual salt in the color. He's wearing a blue suit...a masterpiece tailored to take away your breath. The man knows how to make an entrance.

He's still gorgeous...and I’m still stuck on him. Fuck.

I stand and take Mav’s hand as Jensen steps closer. I focus on his forehead. I can’t look at those eyes. I can’t look at those lips or those freckles on his cheeks. Forehead is safe. He tucks his hands in the pockets of his slacks and licks his lips. “Hi,” I greet him, and my voice sounds awkward, too high-pitched.

“Hey,” he responds and oh, God, that voice.

Breathe. Stay away from the singularity, avoid being pulled into the black hole. “You doin’ good?”

He nods. “Yeah. You?”

“Just fine.” Dying, being sucked into a vortex in space.

He opens his mouth like he’s gonna say something else when a tall brunette woman in a smart pantsuit walks out of the office. “Mr. Ackles? Miss Y/l/n?” We nod as she drops to kneel in front of Mav and me. “And this must be little Maverick.”

Mav turns and hides his face in my skirt. “Sorry. He’s a little shy around new people. He’ll warm up to you.”

“It’s okay. It’s natural.” She stands and extends her hand to me and then Jensen, shaking our hands. “Good to see you both here. So, we’re going to take Maverick in and watch him play a bit, get a sense of his social and developmental placement and if he’s a good fit for King Woods, then we will make that happen.”

Jensen and I nod, then I gently pull Mav away from my legs. “You’re gonna go with the nice lady and play with some toys, answer some questions, okay? You can rock that, right, buddy?” Mav nods and smiles at me and Jensen.

“And you two will be just fine out here together, right?” Mrs. Smith says. She’s making sure we won’t freak out on each other. Freaking out on each other is not the problem.

“Of course we will,” Jensen answers. “We’re gonna park ourselves right here in these chairs and wait for you to tell us how brilliant our boy is.” He winks at the woman and she swoons a bit...I have to stop myself from doing the same as I step back toward the chair I was sitting in before. She offers Maverick her hand and he looks back at me before he takes it and follows her as she leads him away toward a playroom. I play with the hem of my dress for a few moments as Jensen takes the seat next to me, his bowlegs stretching out in front of him a bit. “So...listened to that cover album you did...with, uh, Rob, Rich, and Mark. It came out real good. ‘A Little Dive Bar in Dahlonega’ was perfect.”

I look down and my cheeks heat up. “Thanks. Uh...you and Steve are working on Volume Four, right? How’s that comin’?”

“Pretty good. Not bad at all, actually.” There’s a moment of silence and I sneak a look at him. He’s biting his bottom lip. Black hole, black hole, black hole. “Oh, and how’s that Shakespeare thing goin’?”

My eyes light up and I look over at him. “Midsummer! Yes. My pet project! It’s coming. Rich has signed on to direct a few episodes and Matt signed up to be my Puck. I’m really excited to see what we can do with that universe. Fairies are so my jam!”

“Are you just producing and writing it, or are you gonna be acting in it?” he asks, leaning forward, showing interest, active listening.

“I’m Hermia, actually. It’s coming along very well.”

“That’s really good. I’m...happy for you.” He smiles and I bite my tongue. God. This is bad. This is so fucking bad. I look away from him. “So, uh, I heard that you RSVP’d to Padalecki’s July Fourth barbecue, but you never showed up.”

I shake my head and sigh. Of course Jared told him I flaked on Independence Day. “Yeah. I was, uh...I was gonna go but-”

“But then you heard my shoot in Georgia got rescheduled and I wasn’t gonna be in Atlanta like I planned so you decided not to risk runnin’ into me?” he guesses.

“Yeah.” I nod and look over at him. “It was fine. I ended up watching fireworks with Nova over Skype.”

“You know...it’s been years. You don’t have to avoid me. We can be adults. Jared misses you.”

I lick my lips and nod. “It’s just hard for me to be around you. I miss Jared too, but I can’t be around you. It’s too hard.”

“This is hard?” he asks. I open my mouth to respond ‘Unbelievably’, but he keeps talking. “Because it’s not hard for me. It's the most natural thing in the world to me.”

I close my eyes and shake my head, settling back in the chair to lean away from him. “This is why it’s hard.” I open my eyes and pull my phone out to finish that game of Solitaire.

He doesn’t say anything else until Mrs. Smith walks out with Maverick fifteen minutes later. “They had a lot of toys in there!” Maverick shouts.

“Indoor voice, Mav,” I say as I stand up. I focus on Mrs. Smith. “So?”

She smiles brightly. “He’s a brilliant child. We would absolutely love to have him here at King Woods.”

“That’s great news!” Jensen exclaims.

“Indoor voice, Jay,” I joke before it hits me that I just called him ‘Jay’ and teased him. Slippery slope. Don’t get comfortable. “Uh, a-anyway. That is great news.”

“We’ll send you the information for tuition and supplies. It was wonderful to meet you both,” Mrs. Smith says.

I bend down and give Mav a hug as she walks away. “You’re awesome, kiddo. I’ll see you this weekend, okay?”

“Okay, Mommy!”

He runs to his dad and I pick up my purse, stepping toward the door. Jensen puts his hand out as he picks Maverick up to hold him on the other side. He pulls me into a half hug and I go stiff as his hand lands on the small of my back. God, he smells so good...and his hand is so big and…

I pull away and lick my lips. “You and Daddy have fun, Mav!” I almost run out of the lobby and into the parking lot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Kitchen Sink - @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva @wasabiwitteks @rainbowkisses31 @rissbennett @mariekoukie6661 @officiallyunofficialperson @dolphincliffs @mrs-meghan-winchester @gayspacenerd @foxyjwls007 @ilovefanfic86 @marvelfansworld @f-yeahfandoms @wonderlandfandomkingdom @hhiggs @sev3nruby  @hobby27 @paintballkid711 @divadinag @thewhiterabbit42 @fantasymyth-1 @queenoftheunderdark @cosicas-cuquis @superfanficnatural @letsby @supernatural-bellawinchester @onethirstyunicorn @swinchester27 @chalicia @sunnyroadtrips @screechingartisancashbailiff @death-unbecomes-you @dayasvalkyrie Hunter Tags - @atc74 @sandlee44 @spnbaby-67 @kalesrebellion @tumbler-tidbits @hoboal87 @stoneyggirl @kbl1313 @cookiechipdough @mrswhozeewhatsis @winchesterxfamilybusiness @holylulusworld @pretty-fortune @screechingartisancashbailiff @we-are-all-a-bunch-of-idjits @imperiusimpala @supernaturalenchanted Gaga For Green Eyes Tags- @typicalweirdbookworm @deanmonandnegansbitch @jadesupernatural @stoneyggirl @4fareader @squirrelnotsam @lyarr24 @akshi8278 @pretty-fortune @we-are-all-a-bunch-of-idjits Happily Ever Eventually Tags- @deanmonandnegansbitch @jamielea81 @xhannahbananax03 @traceyaudette @fabinaforever11 @pretty-fortune @vicmc624​

[alarriefantasy]

Hi, all! So it seems that the wonderful AO3 user - objectlesson - aka on tumblr as - horsegirlharry - has sadly deleted their fics. I have only a few saved in my files, but there are some I would really love to possess, if anyone has them? I would really appreciate it if you would message me and let me know! :)

Also, I am posting the whole list of amazing stories they shared for our fandom, and I am marking (with an asterisk*) the ones that I have myself, in case anyone else would like them too! <3

Silver White Winters

by objectlesson

In which Louis catches a cloud and pins it down.

Words: 5106, Chapters: 2/2, Language: English

I Must Confess (I Still Believe)

by objectlesson

Louis shrugs, eyes on the road. “You look cute in the blazer, too,” she says nonchalantly, and what the fucking fuck, what is Harry supposed to think?

“You probably do, too, but I wouldn’t know because I don’t even think you own one? Do you ever actually wear the entire uniform?” she asks, deflecting.

“Not since freshman year!” Louis boasts proudly. “They stopped giving me demerits because it’s, like, a lost cause. I literally haven’t seen my blazer in three years, I just borrow Veronica’s when I walk into Mass.” Her grin is very cheeky and bright, and she’s squinting in the sun, aviators pushed up into the overgrown auburn shag of her hair. The horizon is hazy and pink-orange as dark sneaks up on them, the air smelling of sprinkler water and BBQ smoke from people leaching the last warmth of October before summer’s gone for good. Harry feels alive with possibility, eyes watering as she smiles at Louis, unable to stop. She wrinkles her nose like it’ll somehow hide the way it looks on her face to be in love.

Or, Harry is the new girl at an all girl Catholic Girl’s School, and Louis is the unattainable, dashing senior who changes her forever.

Words: 44304, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Powerless (and I Don’t Care It’s Obvious)

by objectlesson

“Oh no, Lou, don’t make me laugh,” he whimpers. His Ribena-purple mouth twists into a glorious, breakable shape, and Louis’s heart stops. He should not be getting turned on by Harry’s full-bladder discomfort, his little twitches, his hips-stuttering. And yet.

Words: 4090, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

The Pink Ghost of Princess Park

by objectlesson

The thought of the vibrator does not go away. It’s sitting there collecting dust all through January, and every time Harry and Louis have to leave town for a press event or a show or to record or what have you, they come back home, and it’s still there, the Pink Ghost of Princess Park, the fucking glittery haunting that Harry cannot stop thinking of Louis stuffing up his arse.

Words: 7556, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

*Life Saver

by objectlesson

Nerd Boy’s giant, dorky, adorable hand shoots into the air. Louis notices he has chipped red polish on a few of his nails and some tattered friendship-looking bracelets, like the sort you make in camp, and he might hear the distant chime of wedding bells. He thought he didn’t even believe in marriage because it’s, like, oppressive and heteronormative or whatever, but that was before Styles, Harry (Harry Styles!!! What an absurd, wonderful name! What a perfect thing to scrawl in the margins of all his notebooks surrounded in hearts!) appeared in the bio lab at his new school and ruined all his principles forever.

or, Louis is a sweetheart punk with a theater background and a heart of gold, Harry is an inexperienced nerd who plays by the rules. Classmates, lab partners, and eventually friends, what happens when Louis knows he’s in love, but doesn’t know how tell Harry?

Words: 14809, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Even Your Honey Dew

by objectlesson

It probably says something about Harry that he’s so obsessed with another omega’s arse.

Words: 9512, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

What a Heavenly Way To Die

by objectlesson

She’s thought about it a lot, and two big things seem to be holding her back, aside from the uncontrollable paralysis that overtakes her body every time she so much as tries to sneak a hand under the waistband of Harry’s knickers.

Or, Louis is afraid to do stuff to Harry, who has done a lot of stuff to her.

Words: 8052, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

A Firm Believer and a Warm Receiver

by objectlesson

a few months ago, Louis had his first heat. It was no big deal, aside from it being awkward and weird and all the other things it was supposed to be. He figured he would present as an omega, so he wasn’t exactly surprised or anything.

But then, last week, Harry had his first heat, too.

Or, the omega/omega sleepover fic no one asked for but y'all really, really need.

Words: 10895, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

You’ll Know What Makes The World Turn

by objectlesson

Sometimes, when things are messy and they have more than a few weeks apart, they need the reminder. It’s comforting to have stars to map your course by.

or, Harry’s blue bandana is a day collar.

Words: 4624, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Sing You Butterflies

by objectlesson

Louis stares for a moment before some primal sympathetic force in him activates. He has to help this boy. He can hardly walk, and he seems so young (yet ageless, beyond age, like a sea turtle or a parrot or a tree or something else odd and magical), and on top of all that, he has body glitter clinging to his skin, like that roll-on stuff his sisters used to use as preteens, only pink-gold and twice as thick. It’s, like, professional grade. He’s also wearing grass- and dirt-stained pink silk women’s underwear, so maybe he’s from London. Maybe he’s a drag queen who crawled all the way from a nightclub in Soho just to save Louis from his horribly mundane and woefully heterosexual neighbours out here in the middle of nowhere.

or, Harry’s a clumsy unicorn who accidentally stomps on a witch’s garden and is turned into a human as punishment, so he wanders into a nearby village covered in glitter, still figuring out how to walk on two feet, and meets the fairy-tale-fine Louis, who has to teach him how to live as a human and stop him from eating soap.

Words: 22701, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Holy

by objectlesson

She deserves not to be so goddamned put together all the time. Being in the world’s biggest and highest exposure girlband means she’s never seen without a flat stomach, a spray tan, contouring, eyelash extensions, the whole of her body inescapably toned and plucked and waxed so frequently she genuinely forgot what fucking color her own pubes are. Louis wants to eat burgers and smoke weed and be twenty three. She wants to wake up with Harry and spend the whole day in bed fingering each other because they finally don’t have to have goddamn acrylic nails for once. She wants to grow her pubes out. She wants to lounge around in a posh, red-velvet High Hefner robe.

Or, Louis is dressed like a fucking queen, Harry’s begging please.

Words: 6608, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Only One I Dream Of: A Drabble Collection

by objectlesson

A collection of all the m/m One Direction drabbles and timestamps I’ve written on tumblr, so my readers on here aren’t missing out!

Words: 5164, Chapters: 5/13, Language: English

Diamonds in the Moonlight

by objectlesson

The 70s au where Harry is a rich girl stuck in the suburbs who thinks she loves Shaun Cassidy, and Louis is the skater who breaks into her backyard and changes everything forever.

Words: 16136, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

In the Heat of the Night

by objectlesson

“You’re sleeping with me, obviously,” Harry says then, pausing to regard Louis with a funny expression, nose wrinkled and brows drawn tight. “Don’t tell me you thought that I’d let you freeze out here!? Absolutely not! C’mon, the bedroom’s cozy, I dragged a space heater out.”

Louis wants to protest about as badly as she wants to sleep next to Harry Styles, which is a lot. Too much.

Or, Louis is the only butch in London with a truck and Harry needs to move a couch.

Words: 7726, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Once Upon a Dream

by objectlesson

“M’not gonna half-ass our fake relationship,” Louis almost snaps, voice sharp with a defensive edge, like Harry wandered too close to a bruise with needy fingers. “Now kiss me again. We’re gonna make every shitty tourist here wish they had stayed in the Midwest. We’re gonna burn Disneyland down with our gay. ”

Harry shuts his eyes and opens his mouth, because he can’t fucking say no to Louis.

Or, a fake dating AU where everyone is lying and they happen to be at the Happiest Place on Earth.

Words: 16643, Chapters: ½, Language: English

From Now Until Forever

by objectlesson

The girls go to Britney Nite and Louis wears Juicy track pants and Harry is not ok.

Niall takes the pint glass back from Harry and takes a swig, regarding her over the rim knowingly. “You’re nervous,” she observes with a grin. “Because you’re gonna get drunk at a gay bar with Louis, and you haven’t told her yet that you wanna marry her.”

“Oh, my god, stop,” Harry scolds, hiding her face in her hands, everything suddenly hot and shivery. “It’s not that,” she adds, even though it most definitely is.

“Then…you’re excited to see Louis in a schoolgirl skirt and bra? Covered in that body glitter that smells like cotton candy?” Niall presses, waggling her eyebrows, making Harry blush at the mere thought of Louis’s golden skin shimmering and sticky under club lights.

Words: 9223, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Hello, Heaven (you are tunnel-lined with yellow lights

by objectlesson

“Oh, yeah?” Harry asks, playing dumb as he helps Louis out of his coat before hanging it up. “A new phone charger? Mine’s still broken, the electrical tape didn’t work.”

Louis makes a face at him, all arched brows and tongue pressed into cheek. “Oh a phone charger? Is that what you need?” he quips lightly, voice high and lilting in this sing-song way that’s so, so high and gentle that it’s scary. He’s putting on a show for Harry, and Harry’s thrilled with it, already shivery and hot-cheeked because Louis got him something naughty, and they’re talking about it without really talking about it, wrapping it up in layers of mundanity and domesticity, still so excited to play the role of two Adults living in their new Adult flat in London that they bought with their own money from the X Factor. Harry’s living an unimaginably glamourous life so suddenly, and Louis and his gifts are right in the middle of it, the heart of his every dream.

Or, Louis buys Harry things sometimes.

Words: 2988, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Dream About That Casual Touch

by objectlesson

And that was the first thing Louis noticed about her. Not her nipples, or not only her nipples, anyway, but the fact that she was so confident with her body and didn’t seem to care that her tits were sort of soft and floppy and uneven or that she had a little roll of pudge around her hips that poked over the top of her jeans when she wore crop tops. She wore what she wanted to wear whether or not it was in fashion or technically even flattering; her hair was always messy, she only wore makeup half the time, and she seemed to like heeled boots even if she was already fairly tall and they made her tower over the boys. Louis always thought it was so fucking sexy how unconcerned Harry seemed with what people thought of her, how comfortable she was in her own skin. That by itself seemed like a sort-of gay thing, so Louis kept a remote, careful eye on her, hoping to one day see something else that blipped her radar.

Or, Louis and Harry fuck up two dates before they finally get it right.

Words: 7678, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

*Smoke Dreams from Smoke Rings

by objectlesson

“When I get a craving?” Louis says, “You have to help me chase it away. Distract me”

Oh. Harry can think of about one hundred different ways to distract Louis Tomlinson. One hundred better uses for his mouth, for example. “Erm,” he squeaks, well aware of the fact that he’s grinning and dimpling and blushing all at once, his whole face a suddenly mortifying warzone of transparent emotion. “How?”

“By hitting my arm as hard as you can,” Louis announces, holding out the arm in question. It bridges the gap between them, stiff and expectant, and Harry stares, not entirely sure if Louis’s being serious, if this is some prank that he isn’t clever enough to understand, or if the promise of touching Louis under any circumstances is so titillating that he just can’t process it. Louis rolls up the sleeve of his hoodie then, revealing his pale inner arm in maddening increments, pushing Harry somewhere between drooling and vomiting, he isn’t sure which. He just knows that his mouth is flooded, and the barely-there ghost of Louis’s veins through his skin is the prettiest thing that he’s ever seen. “Go on, hit me,” Louis orders. “Don’t be shy,”

or, Louis enlists Harry to help him with his bad habit.

Words: 18116, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Black Stars and Endless Seas

by objectlesson

Or, A Star Trek Original Series AU where Lt. Styles is a young science officer on his first away mission, and Louis is the headstrong ensign assigned to his security detail, and maybe they would be able to function together professionally in a normal setting, but not when their shuttlecraft crash-lands and they end up marooned together on an improbably and unfairly beautiful planet.

Words: 32246, Chapters: 3/3, Language: English

Rose Garden Dreams

by objectlesson

Harry thinks it’s a fever-induced delirium, at first. After all, she’s been sick in bed for a full forty-eight hours following the Best and Most Important beach trip of her entire life because fate is a cruel and jealous bitch who doesn’t want Harry to go on a date with the girl of her dreams.

or, Harry is sick and Louis comes to visit her.

Words: 9464, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Palms Reflecting in Your Eyes

by objectlesson

Harry visits Louis at his campus and finds a crop on the wall.

Words: 6496, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Wrap You Up in Daisy Chains

by objectlesson

Ten minutes later, an awkward, long-legged, curly-haired, so pale she’s reflective, and so obviously gay-looking Harry Styles is sitting shotgun next to Louis in a bikini, denim cut-offs, and heart-framed sunnies.

Or, Harry and Louis and a too-small bathing suit.

Words: 10613, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

To Keep the Night From Ending

by objectlesson

It doesn’t always feel real to kiss in the dark, Harry guesses. He wants it to feel real. He wants it to be the realest thing, burnt indelibly into his skin.

Or, Harry and Louis take a night swim.

Words: 5036, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Good Enough to Eat

by objectlesson

“Fuck,” Harry mumbles, shuffling. “You won’t give me shit for it? It’s sorta weird.”

“No,” Louis breathes. “Promise.”

“Okay. I just…fuck, I can’t believe I’m telling you this,” Harry whimpers, and he must be blushing because Louis can feel waves of heat coming off him, his embarrassment a hot, palpable thing. “So, like…I love rimming videos. Nothing makes me come harder,” he admits, covering his face with his hands so his voice comes out muffled and strangled.

It takes Louis a few seconds to process, to mentally rifle through his Pornhub search history and remember what rimming even is; Harry has him so stupid he can’t keep stuff straight. His ears ring, and then it hits him, and, oh, fuck. His stomach turns and tightens so quickly he’s gasping, an audible and shameful scrape of air in the dark. “You…really?” he chokes out.

Or, Harry is convinced he’s never gonna be able to try his favorite porn fantasy on a real boy, and Louis offers to remedy this.

Words: 6722, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Grenadine Sunshine

by objectlesson

Harry’s only sixteen, it shows right now, and Louis wants…he wants so many things. He wants to taste the faint, sugary ghost of lip gloss, he wants to cup Harry’s face between his palms and swipe the shimmery wet shadows from beneath his eyes. He wants to show him everything he knows, even though he doesn’t know anything about this, about kissing boys or flirting with them or doing their makeup or even showing them it’s okay to want to wear makeup in the first place. Still, Louis just wants, wants and wants and wants. It’s what Harry does to him.

Words: 18067, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Only Angel

by objectlesson

Louis pops his hip out, looking down at Harry from beneath the cut of his fringe sassily. “How do I look?”

Harry…Harry doesn’t have words, not really. He sits there on the floor with a half-hard cock, gazing up at this taller, scarier version of Louis with wide eyes. “Like I want you to spin-kick me in the face,” he admits after a moment, shakily inhaling. “You look…really good.”

Or, Louis finds a pair of heels that fit, and Harry wants to be ruined, as per usual.

Words: 6599, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Someone Who Knows How To Ride

by objectlesson

Harry gives Louis a lap dance. Or, at least, he tries to.

Words: 5114, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Copper Kiss

by objectlesson

Harry’s not allowed to fly back to the UK without marks to remember Louis by.

Words: 4604, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

You Drive Me Crazy ( I Just Can’t Sleep)

by objectlesson

The first time Louis ends up in Harry’s bed is a total accident.

Words: 18520, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Christmas Without You

by objectlesson

It’s Christmas Eve and Harry misses Louis so badly he might be going little crazy.

Words: 5639, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Vinyl and Lace

by objectlesson

Harry tries on a skirt in the X Factor dressing room as a joke. Louis doesn’t think it’s very funny.

Words: 7541, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Touch of My Hand

by objectlesson

Words: 3104, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: One Direction (Band)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Additional Tags: Tour Bus Sex, Bus Sex, PWP, Up All Night Tour, Uan era, Canon Compliant, baby boyfriends in love, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Established Relationship

Born to Make You Happy

by objectlesson

Harry makes a quiet vow to himself that he will be the very best girlfriend Louis has ever had, even if he never actually gets to be Louis’s girlfriend.

Words: 25662, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Taste of a Poison Paradise

by objectlesson

Louis notices Harry’s mouth right away.

Words: 9894, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

A Little Love (is better than none)

by objectlesson

It’s supposed to be no strings attached sex, but Harry’s in love with beauty and tragedy and Louis Tomlinson so there might actually a few strings they’re not talking about.

Or, alternately, the four times they fuck and don’t kiss, and one time they fuck and do (with a few more times thrown in because I’m a mess and know how to write short fics).

Words: 15074, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

*Take Me Under the Blue

by objectlesson

Louis hasn’t even seen his legs yet. He doesn’t know how they work or how long they’ll be. Maybe they won’t suit the rest of Harry at all, and he’ll have to grow into them or something. It doesn’t matter; Louis has loved Harry for a year with scales, so he can’t imagine wonky legs putting a damper on his attraction. 

He supposes he’ll just have to find out. In the meantime, he wonders how the fuck he got here, in his squelching wellies about to save the love of his life from the sea and take him to bed and bang him for the very first time.

It’s sort of a long story.

Words: 19011, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

[winchester-purgatory]

Fake marriage, snobby mother and booty calls | Dean Winchester x OC

Summary: Awsten’ sister tells their parents she’s married - she isn’t. Dean accepts to play along when her parents comes to visit for dinner

Word count: 1670

Notes: I wrote this for the Christmas bingo I participated back in December but only now got to finish it

-

Dean Winchester wasn't husband material. He liked old cars, 80s rock music, had a bit of a drinking problem and had been in jail. He hated to wear ties, being more of a flannel kind of guy, and always had oil or grease stained hands from fixing cars.

Her mom was going to hate him.

He was also a bit of a ladies man, but that part didn't need to be mentioned at the Christmas gathering.

''Are you sure this is a good idea?’’

''You gotta be there,'' Awsten insisted, looking at Dean over the island countertop where they were having breakfast. ''My sister already told everyone I was married. I would be the family’s laughingstock if I they show up for dinner and there is no man in my apartment after such a big news.''

''I still don't get why you couldn't tell them it was a misunderstanding. Why make things complicated when they were initially simple?''

''Because they're from another generation and won't understand. They won't find it funny that we played the 'just married' card to get free alcohol. Or that we only hook up on the daily.'' The redhead sighed, taking a sip of her hot coffee. ''If Charlie hadn't tagged us on social media, my sister would've never seen the picture and caption...''

Dean reached out, squeezing Awsten’s bare thigh on the bar stool, and looked at her with apologetic eyes. ''Charlie’s really sorry. She didn’t think the picture would get to your family.''

''I know. It’s okay. I made my peace with it. Now, we just have to play pretend.'' She stood, taking her empty plate and putting it in the sink to wash later.

Today was going to be a long day and Awsten was dreading all of it. Having her parents and sister over for Christmas wasn’t part of her December plans. For the last two years, she had escaped the family reunions and had intended to do it again this year. She didn't hate her family, they were just so strict, judgemental and draining to be around.

She'd rather rent a cabin in the mountains with a couple friends - Charlie and Dean included. At least, that promised a lot of fun.

Dean joined her by the sink, doing the same with his dishes.

''Thank you for doing this, Dean.''

As insane as the situation was, Awsten was glad to have someone like Dean. Not everyone would have agreed to partake in her crazy plan and play married couple for the holidays, even for one night. And, he will definitely add some spice to her family's Christmas dinner.

''It was my idea in the first place to get the alcohol. And, I wasn’t going to say no to free turkey.''

Awsten scoffed. ''The turkey might be free, but you are helping me. I’m not gonna do all the hard work by myself, Winchester.''

''I would try to eclipse myself, but since you did most of the work last night, I guess I could help you for today,'' he said as he slid a hand under Awsten's tee shirt to cup one of her cheeks and gave it a small squeeze.

.

After six hours of chopping, whisking and seasoning, the faux-married couple were finally ready to receive Awsten’s family.

The redhead has put a red tablecloth to mask the chips on the wooden table, something that would've definitely not gone unnoticed by her mother, and pulled out the pretty candle set she had received three Christmases ago to decorate the center.

Dean lit up the Christmas tree filled with miscandellous, non-traditional ornaments and hoped no one would point out the missing Christmas crib under the tree. It was somewhere in the storage closet and Awsten didn't feel like fetching it.

As they were setting the table, Dean caught the silver ring on the redhead’s finger. ''Just so you know, I would've never offered you this cheap ass looking ring. My wife deserves something better than a plastic rock.''

Awsten narrowed her eyes. ''I did with what I had and with the time I had, Dean! I couldn't get myself a real wedding ring. Diamonds are hella expensive.''

''You didn’t even get me one.''

''I forgot. But, knowing my family, they won't even notice. They'll be too occupied looking elsewhere,'' she promised.

''You mean my charming smile?''

She glanced at his flannel and stubbles, both red flags in her mother's book. ''Among others.''

It was around six o’clock when the doorbell rang. Awsten smoothed her velvet dress and checked her lipstick in the hallway mirror before opening the door.

''How can you get married and not tell us? I didn't raise you like this,'' her mom asked, skipping the greetings and walking in like it was her own place.

Awsten contained herself, forcing a smile. ''Hello to you too, Mom…''

Richard and Emilie, Awsten’s dad and sister, followed inside, shutting the door behind. They shed peeled off their winter layers and hung them on the overflowing coat hanger.

The elder woman peered into the apartment, looking for the handsome man her daughter had married. ''Now, where is that husband of yours? We didn't make all that travel for nothing.''

''I’m right here, Mrs. Torres,'' Dean replied, coming to the entrance to greet the guests. He kissed both her mom and sister’s cheeks and shook hands with Richard, his politeness surprising the Torres.

Although he had succeeded to impress her with his politeness, Dean didn't earn Cecelia's approval. She gave him an up and down look, disapproval casting itself on her face almost immediately.

''Shall we move to the kitchen? Dinner is ready.''

.

''What's your career, Dean?'' Cecelia asked, attacking him with questions as soon as they sat down around the table.

The redhead gave her mother a dirty look, knowing exactly what she was doing. To most, it looked like Cecelia was being nice and trying to get to know Dean, but she was being a snake and trying to find valid reasons to not like Dean to back herself with when she’ll later confront Awsten.

Dean swallowed his bite before responding. ‘’I'm a mecanicien, ma'am. I work at my uncle's auto-shop.''

''Ah.'' She glanced at her cadet daughter and back to Dean, disapproval in her eyes. ''Are you planning on taking over the business?''

''I love cars, but owning an auto-shop isn’t in my plans for the future.''

''What is, then?''

''Owning a bar. Commercializing my own beer...or whiskey, perhaps. Something along those lines.''

''I assume you are studying business?'' Mr. Torres asked, suddenly taking interest in the conversation, owning himself a business.

Dean shook his head. ''No. I’m not in college, Sir. College isn’t for me.''

''How did you meet?''

''Was it like the movies? Your car broke and he repaired it?'' Emilie asked with a snicker, making fun of her sister.

Awsten glared at her. ''No. We met through Charlie, my roommate. You remember her? She and Dean are long date friends.''

As the dinner progressed, Cecelia’s disdain toward Dean was getting more and more apparent - and she made little efforts to hide her feelings.

''If you'll excuse us, I need a drink. Awsten, darling, will you come help me in the kitchen?'' She flashed Dean a forced, bitter smile and stood, heading to the kitchen for some privacy.

.

''You don't like him.'' taking a glass out of the cabinet to

''With reasons! Have you seen this guy? I don't know what you find in him. He looks like...a lumberjack. You are worth so much more than him, Awsten. Guys like him don't go far in life,'' she said in true Cecelia Torres fashion, always quick to judge others.

''Well, we're already married, Mom. What can you do?''

''Is this why you got married in secret? Because you knew we wouldn't approve.''

An unsurprised laugh left the redhead's lips. ''Of course you would think that… Yes, Mom, I married a guy solely to spite you.'' Awsten poured the strong alcohol in the glass, the amber liquid gliding over the baby Yoda shaped ice cubes. ''Is it so difficult for you to believe that I love Dean? Just because I was raised in high society doesn't mean I wish to follow that kind of life.''

Cecelia huffed. ''You say that now, but you'll change your mind.''

''I doubt it.''

''Did he...force you into this? Marrying him.''

Awsten's eyes widened. She couldn't believe the words that left her mother's mouth. ''I'm leaving. You're being crazy.'' She took the drink she had prepared for her mother and left the kitchen, needing it.

''What about my drink?''

.

''Congratulation, Mom hates you. You’re everything she didn’t want for me.''

''Aw, damn,'' Dean said with sarcasm, helping Awsten clean up. ''I thought I had made a good impression.''

The redhead bit back a smile. ''I’m sorry for how she behaved toward you. For the way she talked about you. She’s insufferable sometimes.''

Dean shook his head. ''Don't apologize for her. I don't care what she says about me.'' He brought the leftovers to the fridge, trying to control his grin at the thought of stealing a tupperware of turkey for his lunch tomorrow. ''And it's not like we really are married - not that I'd care more then.''

''Now you get why I never visit my family. They're all similar variants of my mother.''

''They say family wants the best for you, but it's not always the case. I've stopped caring about others' opinion of me long ago. I can take a snobby mother who believes I forced her daughter into marrying me.''

Awsten stopped washing the plate, her stomach dropping. ''Oh no... You heard that?''

Out of all the disgusting things her mother had said tonight, this took the crown. Awsten had hoped Dean hadn't heard, but the kitchen wasn't very soundproof.

She opened her mouth to apologize once again, but Dean beat her.

''Don't say it.'' He turned around to face the redhead, eyes soft on her. ''She can assume whatever she want of me, but I'm still your main booty call,'' Dean added with a smirk.

''Dean!'' She hit his shoulder at his crude words, holding back a smile.

He shrugged and continued what he was doing.

[insomniac-dot-ink]

The Hopping Lamp Post

The night was thick with sugared darkness that left my neighborhood feeling grainy and unreal in the velvet insides of night. I was hunched over on the sidewalk with my back to the front door.

“You can’t just come home at all hours of the night and expect--” “I told you I was at work!”

“Work my ass!”

“Can’t I come home from a long day without being…”

The voices screeched back and forth like alley cats defending their own piss-smelling crevice of the street they owned. I flinched and knew I didn’t want to go back inside. Never, ever, I could stay outside in the grim darkness for as long as it took no matter how much my mom hollered and pulled out her hair.

I used dirt to doodle circles in the cement in front of me and lost myself to the rough feel of the smeared earth. I was studying it like a painter studies the face of a subject when I heard the front door open.

“Where is that girl?” I jerked myself to my feet and scurried away down the street. My mom wasn’t so determined as to go anywhere past our front lawn. The neighborhood was hushed with little moths zapping at porch lights and windows all but empty black eyes staring out.

I wandered away from our block and it was only when I couldn’t see our house anymore that I let out my held breath. I blinked a few times as mist started twisting off the ground in haunting tiny spirals.

I turned around in circles as I watched the ground grow foggy and it wasn’t until I looked up that I saw it.

I stood up straight like the pads of my feet had been electrocuted. Right at the end of the street standing proudly tall and stiff was something that shouldn’t be there. I rubbed my eyes with my fists until little white spots appeared.

I opened my eyes again to find the same black metal thing with a glittering white light ahead. It wasn’t like any of the other lamp posts on the block-- not tall and tired bent metal and a hanging dull yellow light.

It was finely crafted with indents like a roman column and a curved neck with a hanging lantern at the end that gave off light like snowfall and stars. I took a cautious step toward it. It took a step back.

“What?” My brow folded in.

I edged closer and the thing edged back. I looked down and found that through the mist and unfurling curls of clouds that there was some sort of foot at the bottom of the lamp post. “Well that ain’t right.” I muttered and took a few hurried steps closer.

It leaned back from my presence like a fancy lady from a corner bum, but it wasn’t fast enough. I managed to get a few feet from the lamp post and squint up at its tall metal body.

“Where you from?” I asked as I would any stranger from out of town. It hopped back and I followed. I was on Wilkinson street now with more faceless tiny beige and grey houses that bled out into the highway. I couldn’t hear the busy traffic right then though.

I only had eyes for the hopping lamp post.

“You come far?” I said and circled around the light like a dog with a scent. “What’chu ya doing here?”

Bugs bumped into the glass of it's head and landed on it’s metal top as if to take up residence. I was close enough now to make out the big grey feathery moths with fat bodies and tiny white moths that look like delicate fairies lost from home.

I frowned at the closest moth. It’s wings were frayed and threadbare like it had been through the wash one too many times. Another moth had two sets of wings on its back. A third one was a little firefly that could barely glow it’s little butt at all.

“Huh.” I bit my bottom lip and glanced up shyly toward the light as we strolled to the end of Wilkinson. “They’re like me, huh?” I spoke slowly in a low voice as if not to spook it.

The mist was fuming off the ground in great big fistfuls now like the whole world was a bathtub and it was determined to fog up every single mirror nearby. I couldn’t hear so much as a yapping dog by then and no whir of cars that should still be running at this hour.

I gathered myself a little closer to the lamp that gave another enormous hop forward in a jerking unsteady motion. I glanced up to see that a bat was hovering close to the light. It’s tiny body was fury and it flapped mechanically by the side of the light. From head to foot it was pure white.

“Like me . . . ” I murmured and brought a hand up toward my chest to fist my shirt. “Wrong.”

I had never been wrong in the way people could tell. They couldn’t point at me and say “there’s that wrong girl!” But I had never had a teacher that hadn’t given me funny looks for my questions and hadn’t gone to a family reunion without an auntie muttering “that one’s a little off in the head” to another auntie.

I looked down as to not focus on the white bat or the double-winged moth or any of the other creatures that were pulled to the light of the lamp post. I stopped in place as I peered at the ground, but the ground didn’t seem to be there. It seemed to have fallen away and I gasped.

It was just dark beneath my ratty white sneakers. I looked up and the houses were all but distant outlines from a different life. The mist was growing thicker and the only light was from the silvery glow the lamp ahead.

I clenched my teeth and inhaled sharply through my nose. “Where are we?” I looked up and the lamp was now at least several paces away. “Wait!” I ran after it. “How do I get home?” It gave another mighty hop and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to turn back or find out about more things that shouldn’t be. I gave a small glance over my shoulder and it was all mist and darkness behind us now anyway. I kept following the hopping lamp.

The darkness became almost absolute and I held my breath as the mist grew thick and tangible. It licked my cheeks like a wet kiss and my hair was heavy on my shoulders from the moisture clinging to it.

I started shivering. I didn’t want to keep looking. I didn’t want to see what was beyond that mist and dank gloom. I started to hear things. I heard deep ugly breaths from something that had be bigger than the biggest horse I’d ever seen and bigger than any dog from down the street.

It gulped down air in a deep raspy voice. In. Out. It’s nose was probably the size of a bus and it’s lungs bigger than any whale. I could smell brine and salt in the air and I couldn’t stop shivering.

To my surprise the lamp’s pace slowed. It stopped in place and it’s hanging head turned and faced me. My eyes went wide, “So you ain’t gonna just leave me after all?” I whispered and slowly reached out my hand. I put it softly on the cool metal of the lamp and we began to walk together.

I closed my eyes because I didn’t want to see the monsters we were approaching in the dark. I didn’t want to see what lay ahead. Nonetheless, I felt that warm bath of air hit me across the face and we passed the beasts.

I opened my eyes again to the sound of cars honking and an even stronger scent of salt. I turned and we were standing on a road this time with the mist still thick and dancing off the cement. Something was different.

The road was winding up a huge mountain top and on the other side was the twilight dusk and an ocean that spanned as far as I could see. It was a shifting flatness with pools of blue midnight and frothing white waves out in the distance. I smiled broadly. “I’ve never seen the ocean.” A car passed with it’s headlights blinking and it was like no car I had ever seen before. It’s windows were too broad and lamps too bright. The figure inside was shadowed and strange with hands made out of smudgy murkiness and a shrouded face.

I steadied myself. “Alright,” I put my hand back on the lamp post. “Let’s keep going.” We walked through that world of ocean and ghosts. I closed my eyes and we passed between another darkness with the sounds of sleeping monsters and into new unknown places. We entered a world of dirt roads that led past unkempt green gardens with fruit like diamonds and rubies. We went through nights that were all storms with lightning flashing out on the horizon and people that were shaped like angels flying out toward it.

The sun never rose and we never stopped walking. It could have been a lifetime. It could have been just that night and nothing else. I oohed and awed at the strange sights and smells of ozone and sunshine. It was only in that third darkness that my legs started to complain and my eyes started to droop and betray me.

The lamp slowed its pace to an inching crawl.

“It’s alright.” I yawned. “I don’t wanna go back.” I said softly with my eyes closed. We walked into the darkness of beasts once more. “But I gotta. Don’t I?”

Something landed on my shoulder as we went into a new road made of crushed white shells and with running water the color of mirrors besides us. Little floating lights dancing just above the surface of the river and I blinked at a giant moth perched on me. She had white feathery feelers and wings with grey eyes in the center. She was missing an eye on the right side of her face and I smiled at her.

“Well hey there,” She was the size of a kite and her little legs tickled my shoulder. “You’re not from where I’m from.” I said with a nod, “you’re awful pretty though. You all tangled up about going home too?” She moved her feelers up and down and cocked my head to the side. “It’s not so bad. But it’s not so good either.” I shivered from somewhere deep inside of me and gave her a sad smile. “I just . . . can’t seem to get myself to turn around yet.” The moth gave me a long look before she took off from my shoulder. She flapped away into the moonlight of this strange land and the lamp post simply sat in place. I made a face, “now you feel like stoppin?”

The lamp post simply angled it’s face to the sky.

I followed it with my eyes. It was a long few minutes in the cold damp air with the water rushing besides and lights flitting around. I waved when the moth finally returned with something between her feet. She was carrying something that shone with the force of gold teeth in the mouths of rich men. I opened my hand and the moth dropped a single coin into my hand.

“Oh,” I breathed and held up a golden metal disk. The front held face I didn’t recognize in any way on it.

A queen maybe. She was in profile on the coin with a half-smile, her eyes closed, and crown of light on her head. I made a hiccup of sound as the coin fit snuggling in my palm and gave off a strange burning warmth.

I turned it over and over in my hands and ran my fingers over squiggles on the back that could only be words. I sucked in breath. “What’s this for?” The moth only turned around and suddenly it was flying back toward the way we came. The lamp turned too and I frowned. In a twist that was more ironic than not the lamp started to follow the moth.

"Wait for me!" I trailed after.

We went back through the beast realm. Back through the night garden of jewels and back through the storm lands of angels and mountains of ghosts. We returned to my street with the slanted roofs and scraggly lawns.

I held the coin hard in my hands and turned to the lamp post. “Thank you.” I said with a nod as you’re supposed to for helpful strangers. “I’ll remember this, always.” I wasn’t sure if I was brave enough to return yet, but the lamp bent its long head and the light caught in my eyes. I looked down and the words on the coin righted themselves like soldiers called to duty all at once.

“Be brave,” I read the words and traced them with my fingers. “Because the light will always come.” I blinked and the words remained just as the lamp kept hopping down the street on its endless trek. I slowly waved goodbye in the way of children who are able to accept things that shouldn’t be but are.

I turned and went back into my house just as the night was losing its shape and the sun broke across the heavens. And I was going to be brave for however long it took until the light came again.

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