#in my mind’s eye it is set during the planning for goodbyes. and by that i mean it’s when manfred and mr yogi are planning the frame miles

[sugume]

YOUR BIGGEST FAN — GETO SUGURU

✧･. on vacation with your family, you discover that your biggest fan may not be a mystery after fall.

( TW ) f!reader. camgirl!reader. stepbrother!Geto (in a plot device way, no nii-chan and stuff.) unprotected sex. cream pie. phone sex. squirting. fingering. mutual masturbation. cunnilingus. deception. mentions of bullying. misunderstandings. hurt/comfort. explicit content.  

word count - > 6.6k

authors note. can you see I wasn’t creative with the username? I have a love-hate relationship with this fic because I feel like it goes from 0 to 100 real quick lmfao. This is heavily inspired by the book Eyes on Me! 

“I bet you look handsome.” You smile at the black screen with the default profile picture floating in the middle. 

‘Nah.’ User @Sssman72  types into the chat the takes up the left half of your computer. 

“Stop! Don’t say think bad things about yourself,” You laugh, making sure your tits jiggle in the flimsy red lingerie you're wearing. “I know your handsome baby.” You reassure your favorite client. The man who alone gives you 50% of your income. He’s the one who bought you this pretty lingerie set you're wearing.  

‘You look tired babydoll...how was today?’ He types. 

“I’m fine, I promise, just had a long day, was on a few other private chats with some other customers the entire day.” You confess. In all honesty after this call you were planning to pass out and try to get a few hours of sleep before you had to fly out to your family's vacation home. Today on your live stream, you told your followers you were going on vacation for the next two weeks and wouldn't be online. You didn't plan to get on a call with @Sssman72 but he had texted you as you were getting ready to go to bed that he had a bad day and wanted to see you. Before you had a chance to protest, he spent you 500 and said it would only be 30 minutes. You gave in because first he was your biggest supporter and you wanted to be there for him in some way with all the money and gifts, he sends you and second, you didn’t mind chatting with him, you thought he was the sweetest and you struck lucky the day he joined one of your lives.  

‘I’ll let you go then, I want you to get some rest before your flight, sorry for keeping you up beautiful just needed to vent about my ass job.’ 

“I’m always here for you handsome, I'll make sure to send you those pictures you requested through the week.” 

‘Make sure you enjoy your break babydoll, don’t gotta worry about me. Goodnight.’ 

You say your goodbyes and end up falling asleep in the lingerie bought you as soon as you shut your laptop. 

— 

“How’s college y/n?” Your stepfather asks when you slide into the back seat of the car. Your mother fitting the last of your luggage into the trunk.  

“it’s fine, some of my classes are difficult but nothing I can't manage.” You answer as you buckle in. 

“Oh yeah? Thats good. You mom tells me you started a job a few months ago, how's that working out for you?”  

You tense under the small blanket you’ve thrown over yourself. 

“u-uhm yeah its good—yeah it’s been fun.” 

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I don't remember what you mother told me you did again.” He chuckles. 

“Uhm—I'm a bartender, m-my friend works there and got me a position.” You tell him the lie you've rehearsed hundreds of times. You start to sweat under the blanket. Did he buy it? What if he and your mom found out what you did? Are they planning to ambush you when you get to the house? They're going to make you drop out and chain you up in the basement when they find out. You throw the blanket off, suddenly too hot and alert. Guess that nap you were planning on taking during the drive wasn’t happening. 

“Oh, that’s fun sweetheart, I remember I bartended awhile when I was in college, got fired for stealing the alcohol though,” He laughs at the memory before turning to look at you. “You wouldn’t do that though, you’re a good girl.” 

You nod, thankful that your mom decided now to take your stepdad's attention away and get in the car. 

“Alrighty were good to!” She cheers. Your stepdad turns back around in his seat before starting the car. 

“Finally, thought we were going to get a fine parked here another minute.” 

“Oh, shut up! Y/n are you excited to go back to the vacation house? You haven’t been in years!” You mom asks as you guys pull out of the airport.  

“Yeah, I can’t wait to, I missed the hiking trails and the waterfalls. None of that in the big city.” You answer truthfully. You did miss the silence of the secluded house you vacationed at every summer since your mom married your stepdad. It was the company that you hated. As if your mom heard your thought, she says something that makes your heart drop. 

“Suguru feels the same way, we didn't even have to blackmail him to come! That boy...” 

“Suguru is coming?” You scream.  

“Coming? Sweetie, he’s already arrived this morning. I’m so excited were all together as a family again.” 

“Are you fucking serious mom? Turn the car around and bring me back to the airport!” You screech. You were not going to spend the next week with your bully of a stepbrother.  

“Y/n!” You mom gasps. 

“Sweetheart, he’s changed.” Your stepdad tells you as if that's going to make it better. 

“That’s what he wants you to think! He’s the worst human being on planet earth, please don’t make me spend the next few weeks with him, please mom,” you lean over the consul. “Please dad.” You pout at your stepfather. You know he gets weak whenever you call him dad. 

“Sweetheart...” 

“No! You aren’t sweet talking your way out of this, he’s changed. He isn't the same teenager with a chip on his shoulder, he’s matured. He even told me the reason he’s coming is to apologize and bond with you y/n.” 

“He’s lying mom! He doesn't care about me; I wouldn't be surprised if he told you that just so he could drown me in the lake. You guys own the land so nobody would find my body!” You start to tear up. You were going to jump out of the car if your parents didn't turn back around. Your stepbrother was your biggest tormentor since the day you met him. From picking on you at home to getting the girls to bully you at school. He made your life hell for four years. The day you left for college you screamed how much you hated him and told your parents that the four of you would only be in the same room again when you lay in a casket. 

“Oh, don’t cry sweetheart. Your mother is right, he’s changed, I wouldn’t have allowed him around you if he hadn’t. Give us a week and if you want to leave, I promise I'll drive you back to the airport and you’ll never have to see him again, please?” 

“No.” You cross your arms and look out the window despite knowing that they’ve won. You can’t jump out of the car now that you are on the highway, and you didn’t bring your own car to drive yourself back to the airport. 

“We’ll give you the master suite, the whole attic floor to yourself.” They bargain. You act like you’re thinking of accepting the offer. With the master suite taking up the entire third floor you could lock yourself up there and ignore Suguru. You could also film videos and even go live because the room is soundproof. You perk up at that. You could just spend your vacation on stream and chatting with @Sssman72. He’s somehow always free for you and told you that if you get bored you could call him. He’ll make up for your stepbrother’s awful behavior. 

“Fine, I’ll take the master suite.” 

— 

“Okay that's the last of your luggage, we’ll be having dinner in a few hours on the dock.” 

“Kay, thanks.”  You watch your stepdad shut the door. Once he does you release the tension in your shoulders. You lock the door before running to throw yourself onto the huge king bed. You sink down. You didn’t see Suguru when you arrived, you mom told you he was probably in town. You hope he stayed in town for the next two weeks.  

After laying it bed thinking about how much you hate Suguru with a passion you pull out your phone and open the porn app. You click on messages and open your chat with @Sssman72. 

‘Hey...I know I told you I was on vacation but I already wanna go home. You don't have to answer lol.’ You send. He immediately starts typing.  

‘Of course, I'll answer you babydoll. What’s wrong?’  Your face heats at the pet names. You wish you knew what he looked like, all he told you about himself was that he was in his twenties and worked for his father's company. You want to know more, what he looks like, what he sounds like. If the messages he sends make you sweat, you wonder what’ll happen if he spoke to them to you. In your head he’s a handsome bachelor who just so happened to find you and deem you worthy of his time and money but hell, he could be lying. He could be some old rich man in his eighties who likes young girls like all the rest of your viewers. The romantic part of you ignores that and is convinced he is who he says he is and that one day you’re going to meet in person and fall in and have a bunch of his babies. 

‘You know that stepbrother I told you about?’ 

“Mm, that asshole who bullied you?’ 

‘Yep, that asshole. Anyways I bet you won't guess who's here on vacation with me?’ 

‘Are you serious?’ 

‘Dead serious...my parents didn’t tell me until I was already trapped and now, I have to spend my vacation away with a man who hates me for no reason.’ 

‘Wow that’s crazy lol. Did your parents tell you why he chose to vacation with you if he doesn’t like you?’ 

‘Apparently he’s here to make amends...he’s probably here to kill me so he gets all the inheritance.’ 

‘Well, what if he’s really there to make amends baby?’ 

‘You should've heard the groan I just let out. I can’t believe you’re on his side babe. When I tell you that he too evil for that I mean it.’ 

‘Hey, you know I'm always on your side babydoll, I'm just giving you a man’s perspective on it. Maybe he realized he’s fucked up and he feels back so he wants to apologize for all the wrong he caused you’ 

‘Yea well from a women's perspective he’s an asshole who doesn’t care about anyone else but himself!’ 

‘Don’t say the baby...hypothetically what would he have to do to get you to forgive him?’ 

‘Hypothetically he's going to have to get on his knees and beg for my forgiveness every time he sees me until I deem, he's forgiven. And he’s also gonna have to send every dollar in his bank account to me AND be my slave for the rest of his life...hypothetically.’ 

‘Lol you never know babydoll, he just might be willing to do anything for your forgiveness. I know I would.’ 

‘That’s because you’re perfect and care about my feelings...now I'm gonna go get some sleep before having to eat with the devil. Pray he doesn’t poison me and I survive the night.’ 

— 

You sit at the dinning room table waiting for Suguru. Of course, he’s late, he doesn’t care about anyone's time but his. You say so to your parents. 

“Y/n stop being so harsh and give him a chance please.” You roll your eyes and go back to scrolling on social media.  

“Sorry I'm late.” You jump at the deep voice before whipping your head to the left where your stepbrother stands looking so...so different. 

“Suguru! No need to apologize! Come sit.” Your mother points to the empty seat opposite you. Suguru glances at you and smiles before walking to the seat. You gasp. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile at you or anyone else. Actually, you know he hasn’t smiled at anyone, he was know for being so stoic. You watch intensely as he pulls out the chair and sits. He looks like a different man, his hair is long, down past his shoulders, the black shirt he's wearing stretches around a huge chest. He looks like he spends half his day in the gym. And those eyes—those eyes that always had heavy eyebags and glared at everyone that looked his way, look at you with gentle look you can’t place. They even crease with the smile that he’s wearing. Your eyes widen, he has a fucking dimple. He looks like a gentleman, he looks handsome. You can't stop staring at his smile. 

“Y/n? You alright?” You Stepdad breaks through the haze you were in. You look at your parents and back to Suguru who all have concerned expressions on their faces.  You feel your entire body heat in embarrassment.  

‘Uhm—yea I'm fine.” You look at your parents, refusing to look back at that smile.  Suguru has different plans. 

“Hey y/n, it’s been a long time yeah?” Suguru says in that deep voice that has your heart beating faster.  Out the corner of your eye you watch as Suguru reaches over the food, holding his hand out. Does he really think you’re about to give him a damn handshake?  

...Are you seriously thinking about shaking that huge hand? No, you won’t. 

You purse your lips and cross your arms over your chest. You swear you see him glance down at your cleavage but the next second, he's holding eye contact. You blink and look away with a ‘hmm’. He lowers his hand.  

“Alright guys let's eat, okay?” You mom breaks the tension. Everyone grabs their share, and you eat in silence for a while, nobody brave enough to speak and you simmering with anger at Suguru. You throw glare at him every time you look up from your plate which happens more times than you’d admit.  

“You got something there.” Suguru points the sharp end of the fork at you. 

“What?” You ask. 

“There,” He grabs his napkin and starts to reach for you. You tense suddenly locked in place. Suguru brings the napkin to the corner of your mouth and wipes it. “There you go.” 

You stare at him like he's grown three heads. Maybe he’s dying and wants to make amends? Why else would he be treating you like this. Maybe someone took over his body? That has to be it. 

“Uh thanks?” You mummer, unsure what to say. 

“You're welcome little sis.” You choke on your spit. What the hell did he just call you!? He must be messing with you; you’re suddenly filled with rage. You glare at him, hoping he disintegrates with the sheer force of your stare. 

“You’ve grown up.” Suguru says after another blinking contest, you lost. 

“Yea, have you?” You snarl. He stops smiling. 

“I have,” he says seriously, setting his fork down. “I want to talk about—” 

“I don’t care.” 

“Please—” 

“No!” You slam your hand on the table, and he goes silent. You’re overcome with guilt before you remember that he bullied you for a year, that he told the entire school to bully you after he graduated. Fuck him. 

— 

You slam the door the door of your room speed walking to the bathroom. You strip your clothes before turning on the tub. You finally breathe when you settle into the scolding hot water. You needed to wash his gaze, his touch, off your body. The entire dinner after your conversation was awkward, your parents didn't really speak, and you refused to glance back up at Suguru who wouldn't stop staring.  

You hated him. You hated him. You—you can’t bring yourself to hate him. For some unknown reason you can’t bring yourself to hate him despite everything he's put you through. Why? You shake your head. You don’t want to think of Suguru while you're trying to relax. You phone dings. You pick up and a smile replaces your frown. @Sssman72. 

‘How are you babydoll, you alive?’ 

‘Yes, wish I wasn’t though.’ 

‘Why what happened during dinner?’ You sigh and send him voice message detailing everything that happened. 

‘Oh wow.’ 

‘I know.’ 

‘You gonna give him a chance to explain?’ 

‘I don’t know I don’t want to but also, I want to hear his explanation...can we call I really don't want to type all of this out?’  

‘Course, give me a second. I'll call you.’ You wait a few minutes before you hear the familiar ring. 

“Hi handsome.” you smile at the blank profile. Right now, you’d do anything to see him, to hear him comfort you, to be in his arms. He could be the ugliest man in the world, you wouldn’t care. 

‘HI beautiful. Talk to me.’ He types into the chat box. 

“I don't know. like I said I want to hear him out but also, I don't want to hear it because what it it’s bad, what if it doesn’t excuse it? But also, what if it does and I feel like shit for being mean back—it's just so stressful.” 

‘I know babydoll. I wish I could be there right now and hold you. I would do anything to take that hurt away. I'm sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.’ 

“Stop, don’t apologize you didn’t do anything. If anything, I should apologize for using you as a therapist when you paid to see me naked.” You laugh. 

‘Beautiful girl—I would rather pay to hear all your problems and be able to comfort you than see you naked again.’ 

“Wow you don’t want to see me naked, I'm hurt. Just kidding, thank you for saying that handsome.” You feel your heart skip a beat at his message. Maybe you can convince him to turn his camera on tonight. 

“I kinda wanna take my mind off everything right now.” You murmur into the phone before turning on your camera. You hold it above you and smile so he can see everything.  

‘So, fucking beautiful, prettiest girl in the world. You gonna give me a show?’ 

“hm,” You use your free hand to tap your chin. “Only if you do something for me.” 

‘And what is that?’ 

‘Can you turn your camera on? And before you say no, you don’ have to show your face—maybe you can just show your dick or something else. We can masturbate on the phone, please handsome please.” You whine giving him your best puppy face. You watch as the chat bubbles disappear and reappear. You’re about to back out but all the sudden you’re looking at a dim lit room and a huge cock between a big hand. Your eyes widen and the sight. 

"Y-you probably won’t be able to type and jack off at the same time” You suck in a breath. Please turn your audio on please... 

‘I’m gonna turn my audio on but I won’t talk, okay? Think you can get off on my moans babydoll?’  

You nod. 

‘Good girl now show me that pretty pussy, make it squirt for me.’ 

You lift yourself up to sit on the corner of the tub, propping one leg on tub and spreading the other that rests in the water. You flip the camera so your mystery man can watch you finger yourself. You hear him groan and spit onto his hand. 

You moan softly at the sound, teasing your entrance. You wish he was talking to through it, but you’ll settle for this for now. One day... 

“Mmm, wish you were the one fingering me right now,” You circle your clit before gliding your fingers out your cunt. 

“Wish you were here, holding me n' fucking me.” You curl your fingers into your g-spot and moan. You look back at your phone, watching your stranger play with the tip of his long cock. It looks so big compared to his hand, you know you’ll struggle to take it. Your pussy clenches around your small fingers that do close to nothing compared to your dildos at home.  

“Wan’ your cock in me so bad, it looks so big you’ll have to force me to take it, you’ll have to hold me down and make me take it.” You cry out. You watch as he squeezes his hand up and down his cock. It looks painful. He grunts louder. 

“M’gonna cum for you handsome, m’gonna give you what you want and make a mess,” You speed up your fingers to match how fast he slides his fist up and his cock. You moan louder, thankful that you got the suite and aren’t in the room next to your stepbrothers, how embarrassing it would be if he could hear you pleasuring yourself.  

You clench harder around your fingers. Your stranger starts to grunt and groan louder. You shiver at his deep voice on the edge of cumming. 

“Please please let me cum please! Can I come for you please?” You cry, your pussy starts to squelch, spurts of liquid coming out. 

“Yes, cum for me.” Your mystery man groans in an all too familiar voice but before you have time to think about it, you’re squirting, the grip on your phone loosening and falling into the water. 

“N-no!” 

— 

“Yes, this phone is done for, your mother and I are heading into town we can try to find a company that sells phone, but you know how small towns like this are.” You stepdad stares at your phone that’s been sitting in a container full of rice since last night.  

“Fuck, I need it for work! What am I going to do?” You look up at him in distress. 

“What do you need your phone for bartending?” He looks down at you incredulously. 

“My boss is sending me some important email and I didn't bring my computer.” You lie. 

“Well, you can use Suguru’s laptop, I saw him using it this morning in the sitting room. Think he left it there before he went on his run.” Your stepdad points down the hall as your mother rounds the corner.  

“Ready to go honey?” She asks your stepdad. 

“Coming! Use Suguru laptop to check your email, if we come back and you haven’t got the email you can use my phone. Bye! Have fun and be nice!” Your stepdad waves before following your mother. You wave back. 

 Of course, you had to use Suguru’s laptop. Maybe you can just log in, tell your stranger that you’re okay and that you won’t be able to contact him until you get a new phone and then delete the history before Suguru comes back from his run. It’ll only take a few minutes...you hope he doesn’t a password.  

You run to the sitting room, but you don’t see a laptop anywhere. Dammit, he always has to make things hard for you. You walk up the round staircase and down the hall until you're standing in front of Suguru’s room. You look around, as if Suguru's gonna pop up out of nowhere and attack you from going into his room. You shake the thought off and open his door. You stop and stare at the bed, you feel like you've seen that duvet. You chalk it up to a bunch of man having the same bedding before turning to scan the room for a laptop. You quickly spot the laptop on his desk and run to it. You sigh in relief when it opens to the last tab he had opened. Thank you Suguru for not caring about who gets into your shit. You click new tab and start to type in the name of the website you use before you freeze.  

You only need to type in three letters before the website popped up in top hits. You stop breathing. No... He couldn’t know what you do. Is that why he came here? Was he going to expose you to your parents? Was he acting nice to butter you up before crushing you? Your vision starts to blur. All boys watch porn, maybe he just happens to watch porn on the same website you film on. You can block your account from him so that he never finds you. You swallow before clicking the tab. You shakily move they pointer over to the search bar before you spot something in the left corner that makes you dizzy.  

Right where the username of the viewer is supposed to be is the username @Sssman72. Your heart stops and you feel wetness hit your hands. This can’t be real. You move to chat and cry out when you see your username. The last text he sent was asking what happened. No—this is a dream; you’re going to wake up and this is going to be a bad nightmare. You refuse to believe the man you’ve been slowly falling in love with over the last six months is your stepbrother, your bully. The man you confessed all your darkest secrets is the man who never showed you an ounce of kindness. Is this a part of his master plan? Is he going to blackmail you and hold all the nudes you’ve sent him and all the secrets you’ve told him over your head. You’re going to become his slave, doing whatever he wants of you until you die. You curl into yourself and cry harder at the thought.  

“Y/n? What are you do—” Suguru stops when he sees what's on the screen. “Let me explain please baby.” He reaches out to touch your shoulder. You flinch away from his touch.  

“D-don’t call me that,” You sob staring at him with such heartbreak in your eyes he wants to drop and beg for your forgiveness. “You-you, it was you the whole time.” Your voice breaks. 

Suguru nods slowly trying to reach out for you again. You take a few steps away. “Was this some masterplan to hold me under your thumb for the rest of my life!?” You scream at him. 

He’s grateful your parents went out of town; this would be an absolute shitshow if they were here.  

“No babydoll—” 

“I said don’t call me that you asshole! Stop pretending. I hate you Suguru! You win okay, you win!” You tell him before you run out of his room. He curses before running after you, you run up that stairs and into the suite but before you can shut the door Suguru shoves it open. You drop to your knees to pull your suitcase from under your bed. 

“Please listen to me y/n. I wasn’t faking—stop packing and let me explain.” Suguru pleads as he watches you throw your clothes into your suitcase. 

“Y/n, baby, please listen to me please” He grabs your arm, and you try to fight him, but he pulls you down onto the bed with him. He hugs you around the waist and you push in this chest trying to break free. His heart aches. He hates seeing you hurt, he hates that he was the one who made you cry like this. He hates that you only associate him with the version of himself that he created to stop anyone from seeing what he was truly feeling. He hates that you won’t accept the real version of him now that you know it was him. He holds you tighter as you scream and cry. He whispers sweet nothings as you whisper how much you hate him. At some point you stop fighting and wrapping your arms around his neck. You sniffle into his neck, and he rubs your backs and rocks you.  

“Why?” You ask hoarsely after all the anger leaves your body. Now you feel numb, like you're watching your life from a third perspective.   

“I never hated you, I never lied, and I never planned to blackmail you—I know you don’t believe me baby but everything I've ever told you on that app was real. Everything I feel for you is real.”   You pull your face out of his neck and stare up at him. You don’t believe him. 

“I have never hated you y/n. I swear it. I hated the fact that my father replaced my mother with yours not even a year after she died. Baby, I never fucking hated you. I was just a teenager who didn’t know how to express my emotions so I took them out of the person I knew I could hurt the most. It was bad I know; I feel like shit to this day. When I graduated and got away from my father, I realized how bad I was to you, and I got into therapy. I wanted to be better for myself, for you, for everyone around me. I didn’t know that the bullying continued when I left. I didn’t know how bad people had taken it until that day I came back home. When you told me off about it, I was so confused. I’m so fucking sorry. I want to reach out and apologize for everything and the day I planned to do it Satoru—my best friend, you remember him—well he sent me the link to your account and so I made an account and it all just spiralized out of control after that. I was too embarrassed to tell you it was me and then we started to form a connection, a real connection, and I didn’t want our conversations to end so—fuck I'm sorry. Everything I told you; I meant it. I fucking meant every word.”  

You sit there stunned, trying to comprehend everything he said. You never knew about his mother. You thought she had passed away long before your mom and his dad had met. But you remember when your stranger told you that. God, you remember when your not so mystery man told you about his family the seemed so familiar to yours. And he didn’t tell all those people to bully you after he left? Did he mean every word? Every word of affirmation he gave you. Those times when he told you that you were capable of being loved and that you were going to find someone who would love every part of you, the good and bad. Was that the same Suguru? You try to wrap your mind around the fact that the man you love is your stepbrother. 

“I know it’s a lot of information.” 

“It is.” 

“Do you believe me?” He looks at you with furrowed brows. You do. Despite everything you find yourself nodding. He sighs and you feel the tension release from his shoulders that your arms are wrapped around. You suddenly realize the position you two are in and feel your face heat. Your arms are wrapped around his neck and your legs are on either side of his thick thighs his cock, the cock that you saw last night, is right underneath you, if you lower yourself an inch, you’d be sitting on it.  

Suguru grips your waist with one hand, the other cupping the right side of your face. You look up at him and sniffle. He leans down until your foreheads are touching.  

“If you give me achance, I'll treat you like the queen you are. I’ll love you the way you’re meant to be loved. One chance is all I ask for.” He mummers rubbing your noses together.  

You hesitate, one part of you wants to run away with him because he’s the man you’ve wanted for the last six months. The other part of you wants to run away from him, he’s your stepbrother, he lied, and you don't know if he would’ve ever told you the truth. But isn’t that what he came here to do? Can you blame a little boy for being mad at the people who replaced his mother?  

You give him his answer by grabbind his neck and push his lips towards you. If this does go to hell at least you’ll have a story to tell your feature children.  

Suguru kisses back before standing and pulling you off him. “What—” 

“You said you wanted me on my knees, didn't you? I’m ready to serve you in any way you want. I can have my savings transferred to your account by tomorrow night.” He says as he drops to his knees. You stare at him with wide eyes as he holds your legs and starts kissing from knee to right where your pussy starts.  

“Suguru—” 

“Shh babydoll let me take care of my girl, show her how sorry I am for hurting her.” He mummers before dropping your leg and picking up the next one. He repeats this a few more times before finally asking you to lift your hips so he can pull your leggings and panties off. Suguru throws your pants behind him before standing up to pull your tank top off. You reach behind to unbuckle your bra and toss it on the floor with your other clothes. Suguru chuckles, reaching up to kiss all over your face. 

“Take your clothes off too Sugu.” You giggle, reaching for his sweatpants. You get a firm grip and yank them down. His thick cock bounces out. Your mouth goes slack. The phone call didn’t do it justice. It somehow looks bigger than before and if you weren’t wet before, you are now. That thing is going to be inside you soon.  

“Like what you see beautiful?” You nod dumbly as you watch Suguru step out of his pants and take his shirt off with one hand. He’s so fucking sexy.  

He drops back down to his knees and pulls you until your ass is hanging off the bed. “Lay down and let me please you.”  You comply and watch as Suguru lifts your legs up and buries his face in your cunt. Your hands fly down to his long shiny hair. 

“Suguru!” You moan as he licks you from asshole to clit. He sucks on your clit before biting both lips. Your pussy clenches. “Feels s’good Sugu!” You grind down on his talented tongue. Suguru hums into your clit before setting one of you thighs in his shoulder and bringing his fingers to your entrance. He teases you, only pushing his fingers into the joint before taking them out. You cry out in frustration before pulling on his long hair when he finally slides two big fingers into you. 

Yours definitely don't compare to his long thick ones. Your back arches off the bed as Suguru fingers jackhammer into you all the while his mouth sucks on your clit.  

“S’good Sugu! Don’t stop!” You scream letting go of hair with one hand to cover your loud mouth.  

“Don’t hide those sweet moans from me babydoll. If you want my cock, you’ll let me hear you scream my name as you cum on my fingers and mouth.” 

You bring you hand back to hair and grind hard as you get closer and closer to orgasm.  

“Gonna cum! M’gonna come!” You cry, as you release all over Suguru's face. He moans and sucks even harder before adding another finger. You cry at the sudden intrusion. It doesn't take long before you’re coming all over again, this time liquid shooting out of you and onto Sugu’s chest.  

“Yes baby, that's it—what a good girl,” He praises as he slurps up all your juices. “Such a fucking good gril f’me.” 

“Gimme a kiss.” You say between heavy breaths.  

“Does the pretty girl want kiss?” You nod, pulling Suguru down with you by the shoulders. 

“Want you to kiss me while you fuck me for the first time. Want it to be special,” You confess shyly. Suguru leans down and pecks you on the forehead, then the nose, and then both of your cheeks. 

“Don’ tease meanie!” You laugh when he kisses the corner of your lips. 

“M’sorry baby, can you forgive me?” He pouts.  

“Hmm—I’ll forgive you only if you kiss me right no—” You don’t even finish your sentence before Suguru shoves his tongue down your throat. You kiss him back and your tongues fight for dominance. Suguru wins and smiles into the kiss. You can’t believe this is happening. Your bully, your stepbrother, your mystery man is kissing you right now. Your about to make love with said man. 

“You okay babydoll?”  

“Mhm, just can’t believe this is all happening.” 

“Me too beautiful, you sure you want to do this right now? We can always wait.” 

“No, I want to. I want you.” You raise your hand to tuck his hair behind his ear. He smiles, showing you that adorable dimple. You kiss it.  

Suguru kisses your lips once more before he grabs his cock, rubbing it up and down your cunt. 

“Fuck—I don’t have a condom.” 

“I’m on the pill—please Sugu.” You beg, frustrated from all this foreplay. You’ve been on edge since last tight in the tub.  

“Alight beautiful,” He pushes the head of his cock into you. “Fuck me—you feel so good. Always knew you would.” You feel his fist guide his long cock into you. You moan. He fits you perfectly.  

“Sugu—feel’s s’good, want more!” You cry, fisting the blanket’s underneath you.  

“Does my baby want more—does she want to orgasm on my cock?” You nod watching Suguru lift your legs to his shoulder. He leans down, bringing your feet to the side of your head. You whine at the stretch. 

Suguru groans as he pulls his cock in and out of you.  

“S’too much!” You moan into his shoulder. He just laughs and picks up his pace. The fancy headboard above the bed starts to slam against the wall. You watch with blurry eyes as the stock photos hung on the wall shake.  

“Said you wanted more baby, ‘m giving you more.”  he says before biting into your neck. Hard. You scream, back arching at the pain. Your hands fist the sheets even tighter, knuckles turning white. Suguru unlatches his jaw. Lifting his head to admire his mark. Now all your customers will know you belong to someone. To him. He kisses the mark. 

“Sugu, It’s too much. Hurts! m’gonna cum!” You cry, tears soaking the blanket breath you. 

“Oh, don't cry baby—shhh—you’re so beautiful y/n. So damn pretty.” He whispers, coaxing you to orgasm. Your eyes roll to the back of your head. You stop breathing for a second as your pussy contracts around Suguru's cock. Suguru follows in suit, spurting his cum deep inside your pussy. 

“Fuck,” he draws out, collapsing onto you.  

“T-that was—” 

“The best sex ‘ve ever had.” 

“Same.” You smile before wincing. 

“What’s wrong babydoll.”  

“You're about to break my damn hip if you keep my legs up any longer,” Suguru lefts himself enough to bring your legs to his sides. “And you probably ripped a chunk of my neck off with that little trick of yours.” You grumble. 

“It’s not bad, promise.” He kisses the bite mark softly. 

“And all the pictures fell of the wall.”  

“I’ll put ‘em back up baby,” He laughs into your ear. “Just let me hold you for a second.”  He kisses your cheek before snuggling deeper into you. You throw your arms around his shoulder while you both try to wrap your head around everything that happened.  

[genderqueer-karma]

tempted to write a gregory “came back wrong” au

[pixiesfz]

blessing in disguise j.r

plot: Jill tore her acl but she's just glad she gets to spend more time with the new physio

warnings: none atm

It was your first week as a new physio when Jill tore her ACL, your eyes widened when you heard "How many ACLs have happened this year?" you ask your co-worker Ally as you walked to the room, she was seeing Chloe Kelly as you were to see Jill "too many".

You were laughing at a joke when you opened the door. Jill was already sitting down, still tired from her surgery but her eyes widened when she saw you.

Your smile was beautiful and your hair flowed behind you, you held a coffee and files from Jill's hospital surgeon. You had on a man city jumper and your own jeans which Jill is embarrassed to say fit you quite nicely.

"Hi I'm Y/n and I'll be your personal physio during these 9 months" You introduced yourself with a handshake which Jill accepted "are you new I've never seen you before," she asked and you nodded your head "I just started last week" you smiled and Jill smirked "Sorry for interrupting your slow start"

You laughed as you set up your set "honestly it's fine but I am sorry about your ACL" you frowned as both your eyes fell to her knee which was covered by a nude bandage.

"I would say it's okay but it's really not" Jill said with a shrug and you nodded "It's not ideal but with lot's of therapy and check ups I plan to have you out on the field as soon as I can" you smiled.

"So before I poke at your delicate knee how about we learn about each other a nice ice breaker" you suggested, grabbing a chair and sitting in front of Jill who nodded.

"Do you have any pets?" she asked and you shook your head "Not yet but I plan to" you said "Do you like it here in Manchester?" you asked and she nodded "It's really nice and different from Germany".

You grew comfortable with Jill quite quickly as she did with you and as you passed her the crutches and helped her up she looked back at you "I thought of one more question" she announced "shoot"

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

You couldn't help the slight blush that spread across your cheek "No, especially no boyfriend but as of now I'm single" You smiled before you both bid goodbye.

You met with Ally after your shift as you ate fast food at a random beach near the City head quarters.

"Chloe just kept on talking about her wedding plans it was funny" she laughed and looked at you for information "Jill asked me if I had a boyfriend" you laughed and Ally slapped your leg and you winced "what was that for?" you asked, rubbing your leg.

"She was so hitting on you!"

You rolled your eyes "no she wasn't she was probably just intrigued" you told her and Ally gave you a pointed look before mummbling "intrigued to get in your pants"

This time you hit her.

"Ow!"

Jill was sitting and watching training when Chloe sat next to her "So did you meet the new physio, what she like?" she asked and Jill blushed.

hot. she thought.

"She's really nice, I just apologized that her first job was an ACL she didn't really mind though" Jill told the blonde who nodded "Is she pretty?" Kelly asked and Jill looked at her "Why would that matter?"

"Because you are lonely and it's sad to watch"

Jill raised her eyebrows at her friend's confession before Mary and Kerstin came over and agreed with her.

"Okay well to answer your question, yes she is very pretty" Jill shared with blushed cheeks "but she is also my physio and not my girlfriend"

"That's how all love stories start!" Mary smiled with joy and her national teammate just patted her non injured knee.

"ga er gewoon voor, als je het verprutst, zijn er andere fysio's" Kerstin shrugged and Jill covered her mouth in shock of her words "I am not dating the new physio!" she said in shock.

(just go for it, if you fuck it up just go to another physio)

“I don’t know what you just said” Mary frowned at her friend before they all walked off with smiles.

For Jill’s next appointments with you her little crush had turned into a big crush and you can’t say that you didn’t feel the same.

The blonde Dutch girl was beautiful and you constantly left the room with a smile and red cheeks.

When Jill’s next appointment with you arrived she couldn’t help but blush at the sight of you, you were still in your uniform but your hair was brushed up into a pony tail that showed off your cheek bones.

“How does it feel?” You asked and Jill just nodded “it’s alright to walk now” she said and you smiled “that’s amazing Jill” you told her and she smiled.

“I wanna see you walk, just incase I see a bend or something that I can help you with” you said as you held your clipboards.

“Right now?” Jill asked and you nodded “we can walk up to a coffee shop nearby, I haven’t had my coffee yet and it will be beneficial” you smiled and Jill laughed at your excuse to get a coffee.

“Do you need to see me walk or are you using me to get coffee?” she smirked and you breathed in

“Would it be bad if I said both?”

You and Jill were laughing together as she started walking and you filmed for her tik tok she wanted to make.

“I’m really proud of you Jill this is great” you told her and she blushed but thankfully it was cold so she could blame it on the weather.

You both got your coffee and sat down together, to anybody nearby it would look like a date.

“How bout some more fun facts about each other?” Jill suggested and you nodded your head. “I have two dogs, both cocker spaniels” you smiled “what are their names?” Jill asked you smiled “well one’s name is Rocky and the other one is named Shaggy”

“Shaggy!?”

“My sister named him not me!” You defended yourself as you both laughed.

“Okay what about you?” You asked the blonde who thought for a second “I’m kind of happy to at I’m injured”

You were shocked and cocked your head “why, you can’t play the sport you love?”

“Yeah but you get to try new things and meet new people” she explained and you smiled “I guess you would have never met me”

“Exactly” she responded and you blushed.

For the next couple of months not either of you had made a move which was weird to all of your friends.

“She definitely likes you back Jill”

“Y/n I swear to god if you do not ask her out I will injure you”

Ally was a bit more forward than the city girls.

It wasn’t until your sessions with Jill were coming to an end she realised that she really had to make a move on you but she really didn’t know how to.

After all maybe you were just really nice to her because you had to.

It was your job.

But when they did end and she made her way back onto the field it was always you she looked for in the crowd or next to the bench with your take away coffee in hand.

“I think I rolled my ankle” Jill told you as she saw you walking in the head quarters, your brows rose “well where does it hurt, do you want me to bandage it?” You asked and the girl nodded as you took her to your room.

“This is your third rolled ankle in two weeks Jill I’m not sure you can play” you tutted as you went away at your computer, writing down about her visits.

Jill rolled her head back.

Couldn’t you just get the hint.

“Is it a certain drill that you keep doing that-“

“I didn’t roll my ankle y/n” Jill interrupted you and you furrowed your brows “I was about to write you off for the game Jill!” You told her “why on earth would you lie about that?”

Jill felt small as you looked at her with mostly concern but you also had anger as she had lied to you but know she was forced to tell the truth.

“Well I like hanging out with you”

Your face softened and the dutches words “You don’t have to be injured to talk to me” you told her and she shrugged “I guess I was too scared”

“You? You scoff “scared?”

Jill laughed “oh cmon when you ask your crush out it’s hard”

Your cheeks blushed “so I’m a crush?”

Jill’s eyes popped and her cheeks reddened “I didn’t mean to say it out loud” she panicked

You just smiled and placed the tape that you were going to place on her down “I get it, asking your crush out is hard, that’s why I haven’t asked you out yet”

Jill turned to you with a smirk “So I’m a crush?”

“Shut up” you laughed and wiped your hands on your pants “y/n?” Jill asked and you looked up “yes Jill?”

“Would you like to go on a date with me?”

You smiled “I would love to”

[zablife]

Ordinary People

Summary: When you meet a charming soldier in a base hospital during WWI, you become fascinated by him and quickly develop a relationship. You both agree to leave the affair in France, but what happens when fate has other plans?

Author's Note: Written for @runnning-outof-time's 4K celebration and based on a request from @kammsinn. Tysm for the amazing inspo, darl! Lyrics are from the song "Til We Meet Again."

Warnings: hint of smut, angst with a happy ending

1917

You knew it was unethical conduct that could get you fired, but somehow you set all logic aside that final evening you entered the dark-haired soldier’s hospital room. He had invited you back at sunset with a desperate plea. “I’m leaving Boulogne tomorrow, love. Stay the night with me.” His strikingly blue eyes trained on you eagerly awaiting your reply. “Please,” he added quietly, reaching for your hand. His gaze held such hope, you caved to your own desire immediately.

Giving his hand a gentle squeeze you agreed in a hushed whisper, “Yes, I’ll come back,” you said as a small smile tugged at your lips. Something about the charm of this handsome, young soldier was enough to make you disregard the risk associated with his request.

Later that evening, with heart hammering in your chest, you slipped into his room. You bit your lip to hide your excitement when you caught sight of him. He was shirtless with a bandage covering a large portion of his left shoulder, propped up in bed reading the book you’d brought him days earlier. “Y/n,” Tommy said, looking up at you with a mixture of surprise and relief. “It’s late, I wasn’t sure you’d visit," he admitted shyly, discarding his book on the bedside table.

“Told you I would,” you reminded him gently. “I had to see my favorite patient,” you teased. He broke into a warm smile, pulling you down onto his bed with his good arm. Caressing his face with your fingertips you added softly, “Did you really think I’d let you go without a proper goodbye?”

His smile faded at the mention of your imminent separation. “I don’t want to talk about that tonight,” he confided, burying his head in the crook of your neck and placing kisses to your throat.

“Then we won’t,” you promised, stroking his hair. “I can think of other things we can do,” you whispered into the shell of his ear.

Tommy didn’t miss the hint of mischief in your voice as you scooted closer to him, running a hand down his toned chest and stomach. Though he wanted you badly, his mind was restless with thoughts of his departure. He looked at you with sadness in his cool blue eyes, a chill washing over him you’d never seen before. Even when he was in pain, the man never showed weakness or cried out. He kept so much inside himself you wondered how he could possibly be human. As you took in the sight of his long, feathery lashes you were even more certain of his otherworldly nature.

His eyes traced the features of your face slowly, drinking in the sight of you as you suggested an activity he hadn’t been expecting. “Dance with me,” you asked breathlessly.

“Wasn’t anticipating that,” he joked with a huff of a laugh. Glancing around the room, he cocked an eyebrow at you as he protested, “There’s no music, love.”

“I don’t care. I want you to hold me in the lamplight,” you confided, as you brushed the hair from his forehead. “Let’s pretend we’re far away from this hospital and this war. We’ll be ordinary people on a date somewhere lovely,” you mused, willing away the growing ache of melancholy within your chest.

Noting the pleading look in your eye, he conceded with a gentle nod of his head, “Alright.”

Extending your hand, you put on your most authoritative voice. “On your feet, soldier,” you commanded playfully. The young man shuffled himself to the side of the bed and you helped him stand, the bullet wounds in his left shoulder and back still not properly healed. You allowed him a moment to find his footing, taking the opportunity to let your hair down from the oppressively tight regulation hairstyle. 

Shaking your hair out with a toss of your head, you proclaimed, “That’s better. Now where were we?” you asked with a smile, before lacing your hands around his neck and beginning to hum. Tommy’s hands wandered across your midsection, finally coming to rest at the swell of your hips. He rubbed soothing circles over your uniform as he swayed with you. Closing his eyes, he savored the smell of your shampoo and the softness of your curls against his cheek as you began to sing softly.

Smile the while you kiss me sad adieu,

When the clouds roll by I'll come to you,

Then the skies will seem more blue,

Down in lovers lane my dearie

He hooked a finger under your chin to capture your attention, the remainder of the lyrics dying on your lips as you studied his earnest expression. “Tell me your name,” he begged. You made a rule early on that you wouldn’t exchange names. It was a necessary precaution as you felt yourself falling for him, but realizing the fleeting time between you.

Although you wanted to tell him that first night you sat by his bedside tending a fever, fearful he might die, you never did. You were glad of it when he woke, blinking at you with dazzling sapphire eyes and engaging you in conversation that left you riveted. There was an instant attraction which you teased forth with a nickname in place of his own, hoping that would thwart any foolhardy notions of this lasting beyond the time he was under your care.

“Soldier, you know I can’t do that,” you said, leaning your forehead against his. 

“Why not? It’s not against the rules to contact you after I leave,” he persisted.

You inhaled a shaky breath as you thought of an answer he would accept without malice. 

“I love you. You can’t deny that you love me too,” he urged, eyes glossy with unshed tears.

You gulped harshly at the sight of emotion from him, unsure how to proceed. Allowing your practicality to win, you hushed him as you denied his request. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you choked out, “Doesn’t matter now that you’re leaving."

“It does to me. I don’t want to lose you,” he admitted, setting his jaw sternly.

“You say that now, but when you’re back home, real life will be different. What's between us now will be like a beautiful dream, timeless and unspoiled,” you persuaded. "Don't despair, there will be others,” you said, intending to be hopeful, but falling flat in the delivery.

“Not like you,” he mumbled, a single tear cascading down his freckled cheek. 

You wiped it away with your fingertips, soon replacing your hand with your lips to leave a trail of kisses from his cheek to his jawline. Allowing your head to drift lower onto his mouth, you kissed him with fervor. It was an attempt to demonstrate your feelings physically and he reciprocated immediately, tangling a large hand in your hair. 

No more words were spoken between you as he pushed you onto his bed and undressed you as he’d wished to do many times before. It was under the light of a pale crescent moon and the soft glow of the oil lamp that he made love to you for the first and last time. 

He savored every small sensation as he seated himself inside you, recording each moan and whimper into his brain as you arched off the bed beneath him. It was the most alive he’d been in years, feeling you writhe against him. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have this always. He quickly felt himself unraveling, impending orgasm suddenly crashing over him as he released into you without meaning to. 

In the moment of passion, you clung to him, wrapping your legs around his trim waist to pull him impossibly closer. He brought his lips to yours again as you too came undone, swallowing your cries so as not to be discovered by the night nurse on duty.

The last thing he remembered was collapsing beside you and tugging you toward his chest insistently. The drumming of his heartbeat against his ribs eventually subduing and your gentle breathing lulling him into a peaceful slumber. In the morning, he would wake to an empty bed and his few possessions lovingly packed by the door in anticipation of his departure. It was only then that he forced himself to accept the fact that he would never see you again.

——————————————————————

1922

“Why are we here, Tom?” Arthur grumbled as he downed another drink. 

“There are influential families at this party who can help us,” Tommy grimaced as he downed his whisky in one gulp.

Arthur nudged him as he noticed a woman staring from across the room. “Would she belong to one of those families?” he asked, wondering if his brother had ulterior motives.

Tommy’s eyes scanned the room until he found the lady Arthur had pointed out. The hair was different, but your smile remained the same after all these years. He would have felt the warmth of it from hundreds of miles away. 

“You alright, brother?” Arthur asked.

“M fine,” Tommy mumbled, crossing the room to the woman he’d dreamt about since he left France.

As he approached the small group where you stood, his palms began to sweat. He wasn’t sure what he might say after all this time, but soon found his mouth opening in a formal greeting nonetheless. 

You instantly beamed back at the sight of a familiar face. “Hello, soldier,” you greeted him congenially.

Tommy was taken aback at the familiar salutation you’d given him each morning back in France. Time stood still as he reached for your hand and kissed it gently. “You remembered,” he mumbled.

“I could never forget you,” you replied. It was true that you hadn’t gone a day without thinking of him in the five years since you left his bed that misty November morning. In a hushed voice you added, "There have been many times I wished to talk to you and discuss the events of the day as we used to. It was comforting to me."

Tommy looked away as he felt himself overcome with emotion, remembering how you insisted on remaining a stranger to him. “What are you playing at?” he asked, venom seeping into his voice at the thought of looking weak once more, the way he had revealed himself that last night when he begged to know your name.

You furrowed your brow in confusion at his sudden anger, stuttering in return “N-nothing. I only wanted you to know—“

But he cut you off before you could finish. “To know that I was a fool? I was to think you ever cared for me,” he asserted.

“That’s not true,” you said shaking your head fiercely and feeling your large diamond earrings collide with your neck.

Tommy’s patience was wearing thin now and he contemplated excusing himself from the party altogether until you reached for his arm. Clutching at the expensive material of his tuxedo with your fingertips, you looked into his eyes, your own brimming with tears as you confessed, “I loved you too. I’m sorry I couldn't bring myself to say it then." You shifted your weight uncomfortably as you asked, "Can we start anew?”

He softened at your touch and your admission, a feeling of vindication rushing through his blood. Placing a hand over yours he answered without thinking of his pride, “Yes, I’d like nothing more. Shall we begin with an introduction?” he asked hopefully.

You nodded as you offered the thing he'd wanted most. "Y/n Y/l/n," you replied, holding his gaze. "And you are?"

"Thomas Shelby," he said, standing a bit straighter as he introduced himself. "Now that we've gotten that out of the way, let me take you somewhere tonight. We'll start over, as you said," he eagerly began.

“It’s not that easy,” you interjected, biting your lip in concern. “I have a new life now that I can't leave at a moment's notice,” you warned him.

He dropped his hand from you instantly, head turning to look around the room as he asked, “You have someone?” 

“Yes,” you hesitantly admitted, watching his jaw clench in frustration.

Placing your hand to his cheek you calmed him with a soothing tone you’d used with wounded men in France. “It’s not like that….not what you’re thinking.”

Tommy jerked away suddenly, biting down hard on his lower lip. “Who is he?” his low voice rumbled with a hint of agression.

You sighed, knowing you had to admit it now before you lost your courage. “His name is William,” you rushed out in a single breath.

“I don’t understand why you’re telling me this,” Tommy admitted.

“It’s time you knew,” you said with a gentle nod.

“Knew what?” he pressed, looking at you with a mix of confusion and concern.

“That you have a son,” you whispered, looking at him with tears spilling past your lashes. “I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t even know your name.” You hid your face in your hand, overcome with the unburdening of your soul. You’d cried yourself to sleep so many nights wishing you hadn't foolishly insisted on keeping your identities concealed. It had been a harsh few years, relying solely on the generosity of your wealthy parents, but suffering their hurtful opinions on the matter.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” Tommy consoled you, cradling you into his strong arms and allowing you to cry into his lapels.

“You don’t hate me?” you sniffed, looking up at him.

“Never…I only hated being apart from you,” he confessed. “Now that I’ve found you, I’ll never let you go,” he swore, raising your chin toward him for a slow, sensual kiss that made your knees buckle.

“You mean that?” you asked with a shuddering breath.

“Of course I do. I only ask one favor first,” he said as he caressed the top of your head lightly.

“What’s that?” you asked with furrowed brow.

“Dance with me,” he said with a wide smile. “Like we did all those years ago.”

“Like ordinary people,” you added, remembering your last night swaying beneath the window of his hospital room.

“Just two ordinary people who found each other again under extraordinary circumstances,” he said, leading you onto the dance floor.

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

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[forgeofthenine]

Not a request this time, just a little fic based off the song 'Mrs Hollywood' by Go-Jo. Reader is Tav and they/them pronouns are used throughout.

Hopefully you guys enjoy, next one up will be a set of headcanons :)

The three times you leave Dammon, and the one time you stay

the first time

The excitement reaches its peak around the forge, tieflings bustling to and fro as they prepare. Dammon pauses at his forge, wiping the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand before turning towards the familiar crunch of gravel.

"Hey stranger." He jokes, turning towards you. "Or maybe I should call you 'our hero' now." The correction comes as he turns fully, eyes taking in the figure before him.

God he wishes they could stay, that he and his forge could be enough. But they have their destiny ahead of them. Dammon is already sure he'll be but a small part.

"I heard you weren't coming to the party, I wanted to say goodbye to my favourite blacksmith." His chest tightens as you say the words, not wanting to let you leave, but Dammons knows this is how things need to be.

"It's hardly goodbye, you'll see us again soon, won't you?" The question is one neither can really know the answer to, but they smile and nod anyway and that's enough for Dammon.

The second time

They'd been lounging on the hay in his forge, two days of idle chatting as he worked and asking that ox with much to human eyes random questions.

The assault on Ketheric Thorm has kept them all busy, Dammon at his forge, them trying to form a plan. "What if I just have Gale disintegrate him, Dammon?" The question comes from the corner of the room, where they sit by the open arches.

"Can Gale disintegrate him?" Dammon asks, pulling back from his whetstone. "Maybe you should just use this." He gives the sword a little flourish, holding it out to them. Jumping from the mess of a hay bale, they reach for the sword.

"Oh, this is beautiful..." hands delicately take it, admiring it before stowing it away safe in it's sheath. Just as Dammon thinks nothing they do could surprise him, they're already pulling him into a hug.

Arms wrap tight around his chest as they press in close to him. "Thank you Dammon, I feel like my words just aren't enough." They murmur, Dammons own arms looping close around their waist.

"Just come back alive, that's enough, don't keep me here waiting."

The third time

Rolans words pause as the footfalls of boots echo up the stairs to Dammons new forge, and the blacksmiths attention turns towards the potential customer.

Excitement courses through Dammon as he sees them crest the top of the stairs, a bright smile adorning their face as they wave. "Hi Dammon! Oh, is Rolan here too?" They ask, looking between the two tieflings.

"A few things broke at his new tower during your fight, I'm just giving a quote at how much it'll be to fix." Dammon explains, seeing the way Rolan eyes how his tail sways as he focuses attention on them. It's hard to contain himself, but they'll never know or realise, the way his body reacts only obvious to other Tieflings.

"Well, I know you're busy, but I needed someone to look at my sword. It took a bit of a beating while we were, uh, doing an errand for Astarion." The end sounds more like question than fact, but Dammon hardly minds as he carefully takes the sword from their hands.

"No problem, I'll have it done by tomorrow. So long as the absolute don't invade the city by then." He winks at them, smiling as they laugh and turn away.

"I'll be back, then!" They throw up a hand as they start to walk away. "See you later Dammon, bye Rolan. As they leave a steady silence falls over the two men, Rolans eyebrow raising slightly.

"Still waiting in line for them, then, prince charming?"

Dammons only reply is to hang his head in his hands.

The time you stay

Parties rage through the streets, the celebration of the absolutes control finally being destroyed. Fireworks fizz and pop outside, children shout and squeal, men sing merry drinking songs.

It's no surprise Dammon stays inside. He's never been one for parties, that much is obvious. What is less obvious is why someone is knocking on his door so late.

Opening it with a stifled yawn, he soon sees the very object of his affections. Standing up straighter, opening the door wider to let them in, one question runs through his mind. "What could bring you here on a night like this?" He's in near disbelief, almost wondering if he nodded off as is dreaming.

"The parties are great and all but..." they trail off, looking down to their feel as they toe the wooden floor. Glancing up again, they finish their thought. "But they don't include you, Dammon."

He can't help the way he pulls them in by the arm, this time being the one to start the impromptu hug. Tail wrapping loosely around their leg as they sigh against his chest, Dammon feels the way their body sags against him.

"Stay." He tells them, face pressing into their hair, bodies curling around each other. "Stay with me this time, I've been waiting so long." The hands gripping his clothing hold him tighter, their face pulling from his chest to look him in the eye.

"Kiss me Dammon. I won't be leaving again." They barely get to finish their sentence, a hand finding the side of their face as Dammon does the very thing he's dreamt about for so long.

Even the fireworks outside can't compare to the ones when they finally kiss.

[gojot-t]

Hihi!! I'm here to place my order for the valentine's event!! I'd love to request an arranged marriage w topping 22 + gojo please!! Like they needed to rehearsal the "you may kiss the bride" kiss and he just kind of messes it up in purpose so they can do it again and again! KSJDJFJS AAAH I LOVE THIS EVENT SO MUCH THANK YOU FOR MAKING THIS!!!!!!!

from the valentine's day event! ⊹ ࣪ ˖

gojo satoru + arranged marriage + “Wait, that wasn’t good enough. Let’s do another take.” “…It’s been the fourth take already. Just admit you like kissing me, it’s fine.”

tags :: fem!reader, gojo is down bad, fluff, i ended up going in a slightly different direction and this probably wasn't what you had in mind, but I hope you like it anyway ><

“You really are an idiot.”

“Hey now, that's how you treat your future husband? tsk tsk.”

It's funny to think how just a few months ago if someone mentioned the slightest possibility of having something romantic with Satoru, you would choke in the most exaggerated way you could before denying vehemently, unaware of destiny's plans for you.

Even if you knew Satoru since you were a child, being each other's escape from the so boring and extraneous clan meetings and messing around until some wrinkled-faced old man lost his temper and yelled at you two, you wouldn't marry him.

From the sullen boy who would always hold your hands to the energetic teenager who would pull your hair if you didn't pay attention to him, you saw all the facets of Satoru, always by his side. Still, for you, satoru is like a flower in a garden – its beauty making you momentarily forget about its thorns.

“hey, I'm feeling kinda neglected here.” a pouty satoru meets your view. “If you have so much time to get lost in that pretty little head of yours, maybe we should practice more?”

“I'm starting to think you set this all up, you know. to play prince charming on me." you narrow your eyes and accuse him softly with your finger on his chest, the sight of satoru in a suit – just before marrying you – it's not easy to resist, after all.

the firm hands on your waist start to go down and you pinch his (stupidly strong) bicep before they can wander any longer. “hmm, why do you think so?” he teasingly moves his face close to yours – warm breath just above your mouth – lips close but never touching. you already know his little games.

The last conversation you had with him before the whole marriage thing was during a night out for drinks, “for the good old’ time sakes” he had said. You weren't planning to ruin the night with your personal problems, but a few drinks later and the heat of his body close to yours seemed to inebriated you enough to make your mouth run faster than your thoughts.

Originally, you would marry a big shot from the Zenin clan. You were not happy about it, still there's little to nothing you could do. The preparations are already being made and the Shiromuku you had to try felt like a cage against your skin, a warning of what your life would be like from then on.

As those slurred words left your mouth, Satoru's entire body seemed to tense up for a moment and for the rest of the night he seemed distant, furrowed eyebrows and thinking about something. He had ended your little hang out earlier than you expected that day, saying he had "important business calling", leaving you back at your home and saying goodbye with a hug and chaste kiss on your cheek, seemingly back to his usual silly self.

You’re never sure what’s on Satoru’s mind, so you decided not to question him despite the strange behavior. He wouldn't tell you anyway.

A week later your wedding was canceled. You would be marrying Gojo Satoru instead.

“Like, the deal being canceled so suddenly, what happened?And- wait, is my father in debt?" your body stiffened against his arms, worried. You try to move away from him a little, but satoru just pulls you closer.

By the way he just giggles in response you know he's not really listening to you. He trails kisses from your jaw to your neck, teasing lightly with his tongue before burying his nose deep in your hair. “You smell so good…” He seems strangely happy today, all smiley and clingy. “But, no. You can try to guess one more time, though.”

The same second you open your mouth to respond, muffled footsteps can be heard outside the room you're in and you know it's the maids returning with the final jewelry and makeup. Satoru took advantage of the small gap in their presence, basically barging into your room and demanding that the two of you practice kissing for when the two of you finished your vows, apparently too eager to keep his hands to himself.

he groans and drops his head on your shoulder, before looking at you with expectant eyes, just like a child would with their favorite candy in a store. "How about just one little kiss, huh? to be sure that everything will turn out well, you know, that's very important!”

you should say no, you really should, you don't have that much time anymore and one kiss with satoru easily turns into two, three until you're both out of breath, mind clouded with desire, but the protest dies in your mouth when satoru’s soft lips meet yours.

you were half expecting him to mess up again, just like every time he asked for "just one more kiss", turning his face at the last second for you to kiss his cheek or nibbling on your lips before pulling away completely, but he doesn't do any of that, instead, he kisses you, lips dancing against yours, feeling you, appreciating you.

this time, you're the one pulling him closer, hands on his nape and feeling his skin react to yours. Despite your desperation for each other, the kiss is nothing but slow and gentle, a shy waltz between two lovers. If before you couldn't imagine marrying satoru, now you think that a life without the weight of the ring on your finger, sealing him to you, would make no sense.

Satoru tongue caressing yours brings you back to reality and you pull away, before you both really get lost in the moment. "satoru-”

“wait… that wasn’t good enough. let’s do another take…” he chases your lips again, hands on your cheeks and his eyes, normally so bright, are almost dark blue, clouded with desire for you.

the sight of him now, flushed and with swollen lips, makes your face heat up and you cover your nervousness before he can tease you. “…It’s been the fourth take already. just admit you like kissing me, it’s fine.”

“huh, bossy, aren't you?" there's a knock on the door but satoru just smirks and winks at you. "but it's okay, I really like kissing my bride.” the handle turns and he connects your lips with his again.

“my lady, i'm coming-” when you open your eyes, satoru's has completely disappeared from the room, the only trace of his presence being your messy appearance and tingling lips.

“-in. I have returned with the final preparations and- oh… my lady, do you feel alright? you seem kind of... nervous?”

you swear you can still feel the warmth of his hands against your body. "a-ah? oh, y-yes! yes, I'm fine. umm, where did we stop again?”

[jamneuromain]

Straight-A Student

Andy Barber x You / Reader

Warning: Smut, Fluff and Smut, a lil angst?, Alternate Universe - College / University, Teacher-Student Relationship, Professor!Andy Barber, Student!Reader, Student!You, Pet Names (sweetheart, baby, sweet girl, sweet thing), Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, spanking, talking about Dom/Sub, implied Dom/Sub, authority kink, choking if you squint, possessive Andy Barber, rough sex

Word count: 3k

Summary: You argue with Andy, during your ninth date.

A/N: Part of the conversation came up by @rogerswifesblog <3

Dancing in the Daydream M. List

“Hey,” Andy breaks your kiss, lips tracing your forehead, muttering your name. He is panting because of the passionate kiss you shared, “… I should probably drive you home.”

You wish you could contain your anger. You really wish you could.

“What the HELL, Andy?” You snap, swatting away his arm around your waist, “WHAT THE HELL?”

To be fair, you have every reason to be angry with him.

This is the third time when he pushes you away during a heated kiss, either saying ridiculous shit about “driving you home” or waving you goodbye in front of your apartment.

This is the ninth date! NINE fucking dates and two months. That’s where you are, kissing.

And only kissing plus something PG-13.

“Is there something wrong with me? Or…” something’s wrong with Andy, but you didn’t say that out loud, “are we a thing?” You ask, unable to understand why the second before sex he’ll push you away, “why’d you do that?”

Of all the boys you’ve dated, no one made it past the fourth date and still didn’t mention sex.

Apart from Andy, apparently, who is not just any “boy”.

No, he is your fucking professor from last semester. And since classes are over, one encounter in the pub turns into more, which turns into dates, which turns you head over heels for him, which leads you to this precise moment.

Andy tries to hold your hand. Judging by your hurt expression, he lowers his palm to your knees. “N-No! I mean we’re…There’s nothing wrong with you.” He licks his lips, stuttering to explain.

“Then what the hell Andy? I like you and want to have sex with you.” You sigh in frustration, looking down at the short sundress barely covering half your thigh.

It is a cute sundress, light blue, with white daisies patterns. You choose this dress tonight with sex in mind-why else would he ask you to come to his house “for dinner”?

Now you despise your own interpretation of his invitation.

“For dinner” actually means “dinner” and no sex.

Har Har. Joke’s on you.

Andy massages your bare skin with his palm gently. He doesn’t even attempt his hands to go a bit higher under your dress, only warming your knees with his hand. “It’s not you-please,” he trips over his words, “I-I like you too, it’s just…”

You’ve had enough, “one last chance, Andy, or I’m walking out of this door.”

You set a ten-second countdown silently.

Nine.

Eight.

What’s the worse that could happen? He has erectile dysfunction?

Seven.

He visibly gulps, looking more nervous than before.

Six.

Andy? Nervous?

Five.

Four.

Looks like you are walking out of that door after all. You glance at your handbag, planning for an exit.

Three.

Brilliant. You will never date anyone older than you ever again.

Two.

You are only making yourself look bad by pushing him.

One.

Great.

“I-” “I have… needs.” You and Andy speak simultaneously. His voice lower, hesitant. He realizes he’s cutting off your words, mumbling a quiet “sorry”.

You are perplexed, to say the least. “Needs…? Sure. What needs?”

Andy looks like a balloon, full of air a minute ago when you were kissing, but now, the air drained, “I… I like to be dominant during sex. I like,” he swallows a lump down his throat, unable to meet your eyes, “holding my partner still, I like telling them what to do.”

The words are weighing him down, instead of up. The more he speaks, the more his heart dies.

“I like going rough. Leave marks on them. Bruises.”

Every sentence feels like torture.

“I want to discipline my partner.” The proper word is, “…spanking. I want control.” He winces.

Silence.

He knows he is going to regret it by the morning, when the headline of the university news would be “Professor Andy Barber, A Sadist in Life AND Sex”.

You are completely awe-struck for a minute.

You weren’t expecting this.

Not even a little.

But damn didn’t what he confessed make you feel things.

Good things.

First, you need to make this clear, “you are into BDSM … stuff?”

“Dom/Sub and bondage. Yes.”

More silence.

He is ruined.

He is completely over.

He messed up the chance with you.

Andy buries his face in his hands, hoping it could make things easier if he doesn’t see you walk away.

“Spanking, as if, the kind of spanking we get as a kid?” You swallow thickly, feeling your pussy clench with his response.

“Yes.”

It takes your whole body not to shake at his words.

“Can we… umm, try that?” You whisper.

Andy raises his head from his palms, turning to look at you, “I’m sorry?”

This must be a dream.

He is dreaming.

He pinches his wrist to make sure he is in the real world.

A sharp pain nearly has him yelp.

For Christ’s sake, you are asking him to spank you.

He returns your question with another, “you tried spanking before?”

Honestly? No.

You’ve had sex before, that’s for sure. Plain vanilla. Sometimes you have to fake your own orgasm to protect their fragile ego.

There’s nothing wrong with vanilla. It’s fine. It’s only a bit dull. Like there’s something missing. Something you’ve read about, “la petite mort”, dying a little. You’ve always wondered what’s it like.

No, you have never tried spanking before. But your unsettling heartbeat in your ears tells you it might be the solution to what you are looking forward to. To be put down. Maybe a little fight and struggle. To be taken.

“No, but I want to give it a shot.” You admit shyly. You blush from head to toe. The air in his apartment suffocating you. Heating you. Wrapping a hand around your neck – no, wait, that’s Andy. Andy caresses your jawline with his thumb, his blue eyes blown wide, and he nods, “before we get anything started, you need a safe word. It can’t be ‘no’ or ‘stop’, that could confuse me with you actually wearing out. Pick something short and irrelevant to sex. When you say it, it means a full stop to whatever I’m doing. Something you can remember and pronounce clearly. Something like fruit? Apple?”

“Yeah, apple sounds good.”

“Okay.” He pecks your lips, then orders you with a soft voice, “lie across my lap. On your stomach.”

He holds on to your shoulder to help you lie down. His jeans feel rough, even with a thin piece of dress between your body and his.

You don’t know where to put your arms, when he rubs the back of your neck and tells you to get comfortable.

You put your arms above your head, touching the soft material of the couch.

He moves your body slightly, for your ass to perch up.

“It’s all about relaxing.” He runs a hand down your bare thigh, warming the cool skin under his palm. He explains calmly what he is going to do, when the muscles on your waist are no longer tense, and your body gains a rhythmic speed of breathing, “I’m going to spank you ten times. Start with a small swat, and I will go harder. Is that okay with you?”

“Yes.” You reply shakily.

“Shhh. Don’t be scared, sweet thing.” He lands a kiss on your spine, his hand still massaging your thighs, his other hand spread over your upper back, giving you the soothing warm you need, his voice dropping to a whisper, “you can always safe word when it’s too much.”

Your body melts to his touch.

“One more thing.” He mutters, “could you be a good girl for me and count your spanking?”

The first slap is nothing more than a small pat on your right cheek. Even so, you count as he asked you to: “One.”

“One, Sir.” He corrects you, flipping the thin piece of dress to your waist as you unmistakably feel his shaft hardens under your soft stomach.

Bet he didn’t see your black lacy panties coming, huh?

“One, Sir.” You repeat what he says, biting your lower lip to stiffen a giggle.

The next blow comes harder to your bare flesh. A smack with no actual force. There’s not even a sting.

“Two, Sir.” You breathe steadily as he trails his left hand up and down your spine.

Somehow, you know the next blow is a real spanking instead of the last two playful swats.

A patch of sting blooms on your right cheek when he lands the third smack, dissipating quickly into your skin.

You let out a small squeal, “three, Sir.”

Your clit is aching for some touch. You press your thighs together for some comfort, but he stops your squirming with a warning pinch on your thigh.

“None of that.” He tuts, a hint of dominance in his voice, “getting needy, are you?”

Your whimper turns into another squeal when the fourth smack meets your cheek. The sting leaves for a longer period of time, still not truly painful.

“I asked you a question. I expect you to answer, sweetheart.” Andy squeezes your cheek with his fingers, kneading your ass as the pain grows fainter.

You grab onto the smooth sofa surface. The tinge of pain blooms into your wetness down your core. You crave something more at your entrance. Something stronger. Something harder.

“Four, Sir. Yes, Sir.” Your face flushed-red, abashed by your confession.

You yelp as the final blow to your right cheek paint your ass pink, even only for a couple of seconds. You forget all about counting his smacks as the buzz of pleasure leaves your body. Andy’s palm massages your tender skin slowly, turning you around to face him, “is that too tense for you, sweet girl?” His eyes nothing short of worry and concern, cerulean blue orbs filled with warmth.

His action speaks more than his words: Did he hurt you? Does he need to stop? Do you need to safe word?

“No. I’m good.” A shy smile hanging on the corner of your lips, “Sir.”

Andy closes his eyes and groans, “you’re going to be the death of me, sweetheart.”

He flips you over with one fluid motion, delivering the next five smacks on your ass as promised. He watches as your skin blooms with pink traces of his spanking, clenching his teeth when you count each one. His cock strained in his boxers, painfully hard. He wants to paint your pink ass with his cum, the milky substance drips down your thigh, making a mess on…

“Can I have some more… Sir?” You look over your shoulders, lifting your body from his lap slightly, “a little harder, maybe?” You chew on your lower lip, in anticipation of his answer.

You crave more, after your spanks. His blows are not enough. You want his hands to come down just a little harder. And deep down, you can tell he is still holding back. Probably because he’s afraid of scaring you.

Yet you want it.

You want him behind this façade. You want him for all he is. You want to see the worst he can do to you.

You are so excited about his unfiltered dominance.

Andy chokes on your request, but huffs out a laugh.

They were married for ten years, and Laurie refused his dominance for ten years.

Laurie never wanted any of this. Laurie never liked any of this. Laurie thought BDSM was sick.

Not like young people saying skateboards and weed kind of “sick”.

The other kind.

The bad kind.

So, he hid that side of him away from her, tucked it into a dark corner in his mind, locked it, and threw away the key.

While you.

You found the key.

You unleashed the beast inside him.

Feeding it more of your given-up control.

He nudges your elbow to have you lie back in place, and mutters, “since you’ve asked so nicely… three each. Be a good girl and remind me of your safe word, will you?”

“Apple.”

“God you’re perfect.” He combs your hair to the side, rubbing circles on your back, planting a small kiss on your lower waist.

A loud smack has your body spasm, your nails bite into your palm, and you wince for the first time.

This is exactly what you need. What you want. What you crave.

“One, Sir.”

The sharp pain spreads with the numbing sensation. The shade of dark pink stays on your skin. Pain blend into pleasure, shooting sparks down your core. Andy kneads your ass until it doesn’t hurt anymore, which is only a matter of seconds.

Smack.

“Two, Sir.”

He could see the palmprint, covering the previous spank, leaving a beautiful pink imprint. He doesn’t wait to deliver the third blow.

“Ah-Three, Sir.”

Your ass is numb. Smack overlapping smack is both pleasure and torture to your delicate skin.

Three more smacks on your other cheek, and you know your core is leaking. The wet patch of lace clings to your soaking pussy, making you want to squirm.

“Fuck.” He pulls you close to sit on his lap, devouring you in a searing kiss, “fuck, you’re so good for me baby.” Andy rests his forehead with yours. Your pussy grinds over his bulge, when his hand kneads your ass. “I want you, Andy,” you moan into his mouth, your lips burning for his beard, but that’s what you want, “I want you, Sir. Please.”

Succumbing to his needs. Succumbing to his wish.

He makes it all so easy.

He makes you thirsty for more.

Andy wants to take you, right here, right now.

Rip you to pieces just to put you back together.

But no. The Couch isn’t the nicest place to take you.

“Bed.” He pants into your hair, kissing your temple, “bedroom.”

A tangled mess of limbs, groping, and kissing brings the both of you to his bed.

You are out of the restraints of your clothes in no time, eager to pull him down for more kisses, dragging him down, grasping the base of his neck, clawing his back.

Even if you are occupied with his kisses, your hands tell you all about his body.

He is built. Strong. Muscles flex under your touch. He has pecs, but you don’t bother counting them with your fingers, reaching for his shaft. Pumping it in your hand.

His thick girth twitches, oozing pre-cum, damping your palm, when he looks you in the eyes. Lip swollen, pupils blown, Andy gazes into your eyes, breathing out one single thing: ”Safe word?”

“I’m good. No need.” You giggle to pull him to your lips again, when he flips you over single-handedly, his shaft pressing against your ass. The pink shade on your skin long gone.

He puts a condom on, before covering your body with his, your back to his chest, “fuck, I want to spank your ass sore till you can’t sit on a damn chair without thinking about me.” He pushes himself into your tight channel entirely, hissing, groaning, kissing your shoulder and neck.

It is a fucking dream come true.

You pinned under his large frame, taken, fucked. Fisting the sheets, the pillows, his arm, his bicep. Your hips arched up, being pounded into. His balls smacking your clit. His hand sneaks around your throat, holding your chin so he can kiss your neck easier. His other hand holding your waist, gripping so hard it might bruise.

He doesn’t care.

No, he cares. He wants bruises. He wants you sore. He wants you pumped full of cum.

Slick runs down your thighs, gushes out of your pussy.

You have never been fucked this hard.

Tears slide down your cheeks, dampen your hairline, as you are being rutted into. His tip brushes your cervix. Ramming you into the mattress.

Rearranging your guts.

“Jesus. Fuuuck-” You moan into the sheets – his hand when he starts losing grip. When your bodies are slick with sweat. When his hand slide to your chin.

You didn’t mean to dart out your tongue, but you taste the salty sweat in his palm. Engulfed in his cologne.

You suck on his finger. His thumb, to be precise. Toying it with your tongue and swollen lips. Biting it when he rams into you.

He sputters a curse, “fuck, you’re trouble.”

Andy smears your saliva on your lips and your chin, pulling out his thumb so that he could hear your moans and whimpers, “poor pussy will be ruined tomorrow.” He rasps into your ear, “tell me, who’s making you feel this good?”

“You, Andy.” You choke on a scream, “you. Sir. Professor. You.”

He rams into you harder every time you squeak a new word for him, for all of him.

He bites your shoulder and rubs harshly on your clit, his dick twitching, cumming, shooting ropes of cum into the thin piece of rubber. Your walls pulsate. Creaming his dick. White hot pleasure burns to the very tip of your nerves.

He quickly throws away the condom before climbing back onto the bed with you. Panting. Breathing rapidly. Having an arm around your shoulders as you flip yourself over on your back.

“You did great, baby.” He murmurs to your hair, kissing the top of your head. He knows it probably doesn’t bother you anymore, but he has to ask, “does your ass still hurt?”

“No.” You rub your chin on his bicep, looking into his warm blue eyes, “not bad yourself, Professor Barber.” You smirk, teasing him a little, “you make a great teacher. Even outside of class.”

He chuckles at your words, capturing your wandering hand for a kiss, “well, I’d give you a B+ or even an A. Though we should probably work on your-”

You smack his arm, “ANDY!”

“OH, okay. B then, for your attitude.” He raises his brows to your “challenge”, earning another playful smack.

You push yourself up on your elbow, hogging most of the sheet because he annoys you, “is there any chance to…” your fingers circle his chest in a seductive way, “I don’t know… argue my marks?”

Andy pulls you down for a kiss, grinning in contentment with you in his arms, “lemme see your efforts. Perhaps I’ll change my mind for my favorite straight-A student.”

[snowflakeanimelover]

Here For You

Relationship: Hawks/Keigo Takami x Female Reader, Dabi/Touya Todoroki x Female Reader

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Warnings: Reader is pregnant, reader and hawks are married, major fluff, reader being sneaky, cute, friendship

— — — —

“Morning, Little Bird.” Keigo’s voice was bright. Too bright for my groggy morning. One hand rubs my eye while the other gently rubs my bulging stomach. I let out a low growl in annoyance with not having much sleep that night. The hero gave me a slight pout in worry. “You okay?”

He knows my answer. And I would never yell at him for my terrible night. He also had a not-so-good night, even though he had to work all day. He tried his best to help me sleep better all night. With each kick the baby threw at me, I was groaning and wriggling in bed from the pain. The baby wouldn’t sleep along with me.

I smiled up at him the best I could through my tired state. A quick peck on his lips made his pout go away. “I’m okay. I’ll live.” 

“Try to get some sleep today. Oh, and who would you want to stay with today?” Keigo was ready to get his phone out, about to call a hero for help. Being pregnant with a pro hero has its perks. Keigo doesn’t allow me to be alone unless I use the restroom. Some days are with Endeavor, who is incredibly cute when he’s so awkward to talk to me. Some days are with Best Jeanist, a very kind gentleman. 

I shake my head. “Don’t worry, I set up the day with Mirko.” 

“Mirko? Are you sure?” he asks, his eyebrows raising in another bout of worry this morning.

My small hands hold onto my stomach instinctively. “Of course! What's wrong with her?”

His golden brown eyes avoid mine. “Well…she’s a great friend, but she can be a little too….”

“Excited, I know.” I giggle. “But she’s good at protecting me. She also makes sure I eat well.”

His shoulders slump, his arms wrapping around me tightly for a warm hug. “If you say so. Be careful, alright?” He then kisses the base of my stomach, his big gloved hands holding it. “And you, baby bird, be nice to mom.”

I smile at the kind soon-to-be father in front of me. Keigo has been excited for a child of his own to appear in the world. And with the known fact that it’s a girl, our minds were screaming with questions. What kind of quirk is she going to get? Hawks quirk? My quirk? Or both? What hair color or style will she have? What eye color will she have? 

It’s been around seven months since I first got pregnant. It was a surprise, given that we discussed having a baby together during that time. We didn’t actually plan it right on the spot. Nonetheless, we were excited. 

I wave my husband goodbye as he flies high in the sky. Now, it was time for me to go see Mirko. After getting ready for the day and grabbing my purse, I head out to the car Mirko sent me. Mirko was actually working today. She said she’d have one of her trusted sidekicks drive me to her. When in reality, that wasn’t where I was going.

“So, did he suspect it?” Mirko’s cheery and excited voice echoed through the phone. 

I laugh lightly at her question. “No. And from the looks of it, he just flew off to do his job.” I glanced back through the car window as much as I could. Keigo’s red wings disappeared at a fast pace farther away from me. He was trying to be sneaky, watching me make sure I got into the car safely and I was watched over. It makes me laugh, knowing he wasn’t aware of me finding out about his tactics.

With a click of her tongue, Mirko chuckles. “That damn bird. He’s so dense sometimes. You’d think he’d do a better job at protecting you and your baby.”

I cooed at her. “Awe, don’t be so mean to my husband. He’s trying his best.”

“Anyways, if you’re not back to my agency in two hours, I’m gonna go and find you.” She half threatens.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be okay, I promise.” I end the call after saying goodbye. Once my phone is back in its rightful place in my purse, I rest my hands over my stomach. I rub circles here and there to let the baby know I’m here for her.

— — — —

The wind wrestled my hair when I stepped out of the car. The sounds of the harsh waves against the dark rocks of the island were so loud I could barely hear my driver's words. At some point, he understood my words, letting me enter the prison.

“Mrs. Takami.” A tall man approaches me. “How have you been?” 

I smiled kindly at the man, surrounded by multiple police officers. “I’m doing alright, Best Jeanist. Thank you for taking time out of your day to come. I really appreciate it.” I then smile at the men around him. They all blushed and nodded to my acknowledgment.

“It’s not a problem. Are you sure you’ll be alright doing this?” He asks quietly.

“I do have you here with me. I trust you.” My hand rests on his extended arm, his body too tall for me to reach for his shoulder. Best Jeanist has been a good friend of mine, along with Keigo. After everything that has happened, the war with the League of Villains and their army, I have often seen the jean hero. He’s very willing to help watch over me and protect me. But once, he promised he wouldn’t tell Keigo about my secret plan for the day. “I mean, you are going to be the godfather of our child.” I rested my hand on my stomach for the tenth time that day. A habit for a pregnant woman.

The man blushed lightly under his long jean collar. “It’s ready for you this way.” He encourages me to follow him.

Standing by his side, syncing our steps, I decided to bring up some topics to push the silence away. “How has your successor been doing?” 

Best Jeanist chuckles at my words. “He’s not really my successor.” I giggle, knowing he really wasn’t. But with how attached the boy is to the hero, it’s hard to believe that he isn’t his successor. “But he is…growing.” 

I hum. “Has he picked a hero name yet?”

“He’s still having trouble with that factor.”

“So, Lord Explosion Murder – or whatever – doesn’t work? Too bad.” The boy, Katsuki Bakugo from U.A., was a delight to meet. His unnecessarily loud voice and bad manners were indeed a surprise, but he was still kind to me in the best way he could make it.

“I’ll protect you when I’m around, got it?!” He once angrily blurted out after seeing him for the first time for only an hour or so. Keigo cringed at the words and nervously whispered to me how much he didn’t like the idea of me being around him. I didn’t care what my husband said. Bakugo was a fun boy to be around.

My thoughts are soon interrupted when Best Jeanist stops in front of a door. A giant window and a view of the jail cell were by the door. The window allows the guards to keep an eye on the prisoner. Looking through the window broke my heart. All but a big white room caging the prisoner was there. No windows for the outside to peak in. No sunlight to keep the prisoners sane. 

It was traumatizing to see such a thing for a friend. 

“Here it is. Would you like me to be there with you?” The hero asks.

I shook my head silently. “It’s okay. He’s a good friend. I know he wouldn’t hurt me.” His eyes lingered on me a bit longer, as if he was debating whether to let me in by myself or not. Bless his heart for being such a good friend and trying to protect me. But I came here for a reason. And that reason is essential.

The door opens slowly, letting the bright white light from the room shine into the dark hallway. I held my stomach tightly in nervousness, silently telling my child everything would be alright. I then take a few steps into the room, listening for the door to shut loudly behind me. 

A man, with a collar trapped around his throat and his wrists tightly cuffed, was in the room; his body frozen from my appearance. The collar is a new invention to keep people from using their quirks while it’s on.

The man had white hair, just like the walls, and his skin still looked the same. Burnt skin mixed with the fresh, only holding on by the staples. His piercing blue eyes look up at my own. His eyes widened slightly at my appearance. 

His silence was devastating. Was he happy, scared, or angry to see me? With a deep inhale through my nose, I prepare to say my first words to the man in a year. 

“Hey, Touya. It’s good to see you.” My smile was gentle, telling him that I wanted to see him. That I’m here for him. 

“Why…are you here?” He asks, still frozen in his spot on his white-covered bed. Everything in the room was white, besides the flesh on the man himself. White prison clothes, that actually looked pretty comfy, covered his scarred body. 

I decided to risk it, taking a few steps forward. I was now only one step away from him. “It’s been a long time. And…well, I wanted to bring you news.” 

He followed my hand, resting on my stomach, noticing the news. Before he knew it, I was sitting beside him on the bed. He flinched at the contact of my arm brushing against his, and he scooted a little away from me. 

I quickly grab hold of his arm, his eyes staring at the contact. “It’s okay, Touya. I trust you.”

“Why? I’m a villain. You know what I did to people.” He scowls.

“Like any other villain.” I giggle, softly letting go of his arm to give him space. “We were friends as kids, you know. Practically siblings, with how much I spent at your house. Don’t you remember?”

He avoided looking at me entirely. “Touya is dead.” He says without hesitation. “I’m Dabi. A villain with no feelings and no care in the world.” The way he turned to look at me with those cold, dead eyes sent a shiver down my spine.

But I wouldn’t give up. 

My eyebrows screwed together out of frustration at his lack of participation. This was certainly not how I thought it would go. “Give me your hands,” I demand, reaching out for them. He didn’t try to pull away

when I grabbed his cold, calloused hands, watching what I would do. Although his wrists were closely stuck together, I managed to put one of his hands flat against my stomach. 

The way life was brought back to his eyes in a quick moment made me want to tear up. “What the–” He protested, trying to pull his hands away. I used what little bit of quirk I had to keep him there. My quirk had weakened with the baby almost on the way, but my strength was still there. He couldn’t get away with my quirk, my strength overpowering his. 

“Don’t you get it?” He growls. “You shouldn’t be here! You shouldn’t be close to me–” His words were stopped when a sudden dull pain was felt in my stomach. A kick from my baby girl. He looked at his hand with widened eyes, too shocked to process what he had just felt.

“I think she likes you.” I smile at him. 

His posture was immediately relaxed as he scooted himself an inch closer to me. He was now intrigued by the baby in my stomach. “...She…?” He finally spoke.

“Yeah. It’s a girl.” My eyes started to tear up. It was a miracle watching the villain in front of me grow as a person. The way he relaxed his hand as he gently moved his hand just a bit to feel my stomach. Like he was searching for another kick. “She’ll be your niece.” Why wouldn’t she be? This man was my best friend, like an older brother, when we were kids. Not a day without seeing him smile and laugh with me back then. 

“This isn’t okay.” He says, still refusing to take his hand away from the baby bump. 

“Touya, what isn’t okay is to not be in my child's life,” I argue, determined to show him how much he is loved. 

“But why? Why do you care so much? After everything I’ve done….” He whispers.

“Because…I know it is still good for you. You can be helped and cured in a way where you can go back to your old life. Where you can go find someone to love and maybe even have a family.” I hold his hand gently. “Because this life right here and now…it isn’t you. I mean, look at you! You’re practically connecting with my baby right now!”

He stayed quiet. His eyes squinted as he thought about my words. “I want you to be the uncle my daughter has never had. Someone she can look up to. Someone you can protect.”

I hugged him tightly after those words, letting my tears freely fall. Silence took over as I felt him rest his chin on my shoulder. He was embracing my warmth.

“...Is it Keigo’s…?” He asks, his voice half muffled from behind me. 

I nod, letting him go and wiping away the stray tears. “Yeah. we got married.” I lift my hand to show him the ring.

“How far along are you?” 

“Seven months. Coming into eight.”

“Damn. And you're still strong as hell.” He comments.

I giggle loudly. “Oh, stop! I’ve definitely gotten weaker because of this child.”

A genuine smile spread on his face as he softly observed me. “Does he know you're here?” He glances at the two-way mirror next to the door. We were unable to look at the people on the other side. 

I glance at the window as well. “No. He doesn’t know I’m here. He would never allow me to see you, especially while pregnant.”

He chuckles. “Overprotective much?” He sarcastically says. “That’s good. You're someone worth protecting. Especially that child.” He nods to my stomach.

“And I’ll be sure to visit you with her. She’ll be delighted to see you.” I smile once more.

He went quiet after I said that. His thoughts went wild as he stared at my stomach. “No… I’ll visit you as soon as I have spent my time here.”

My heart beats faster at the excitement building up in my system. “P-promise?” I ask.

He smiles again, my heart almost exploding at the beautiful sight. “Promise.”

— — — —

Bonus:

“I’m home!” Keigo yells out when he walks through the front door. A rare sight to see as he usually goes through the window or balcony door. 

I walk out of our room, my comfy clothes hugging my body. “Welcome home, Hun! How was work?”

“Same as usual.” He sighs. “How was Mirko? Did she protect you?”

I giggle. “Of course! It was a blast with her. Oh, let me run a warm shower for you.” I turn to go down the hallway, a smirk playing on my lips. He has no idea…

[kitashousewife]

text me

an: i luv luv shoyo he is so sweet and special. i thought he would be perf for this!

pairings: timeskip!hinata x fem!reader

warnings: none, fluff fluff fluff!!

-

the cloud of vapor that swirls from hinata's lips causes him to shudder. for the first night since high school, he stands at the bus stop in the middle of winter.

the sky paints a beautiful picture above him with vivid streaks of pink and orange. those that pass by offer him a friendly smile or nod, and the sun sets with a warm goodbye.

if he didn't know any better, tonight almost feels hopeful.

hinata can't help but smile. really, today couldn't have been worse. not only did his car not start this morning, but he lost his wallet as well. he missed almost every serve at practice, and he's pretty sure he rolled his ankle at some point. the cherry on top was when every teammate of his left, leaving him stranded at the gym.

which is where he finds himself now, standing at the bus stop with nothing but the keys to his apartment. he chuckles to himself as he pictures his wallet, resting in the middle of his kitchen island, where it always is.

a habit he can't seem to break.

thankfully public transit is free, or he would really be stuck. he fixes the beanie on his head, one that he found at the very bottom of his gym bag, and checks his phone. it's friday night, which means the start of a small break for MSBY before their next trip. hinata grins once more, remembering his plans for the night. a quick shower, grabbing something to eat, before heading to bokuto's for some movies and hopefully, drinks.

the hiss of breaks grabs his attention, pulling him away from the group chat on his screen. he steps on, finding a spot quickly, and lets out a sigh of relief at the warmth. his cheeks turn pink, nose a tad rosy, but he feels at ease.

when the bus pulls away from the stop, he feels a bit more relaxed. he's already mapped his route home, only six more stops to go. his fingers come up to run his hands through his hair, completely forgetting about the hat. it slips off, slowly falling to the bus floor. hinata's fingers reach to grab it, but he's met with something much warmer.

"oh-"

"sorry-"

he looks up and meets your eyes, and can't help the gasp that leaves his lips. how he didn't notice you before, he's not sure. you're breathtaking.

at this rate, he's never fixing his car. not if it means he can see you again.

"here," you gesture the hat towards him, and he accepts.

"thanks. y'know, i forgot i was wearing it," hinata smirks. "i just don't wear hats very often."

"you're welcome. i know the feeling."

a silence falls over the two of you. with only the isle between you, but it feels like yards away. you were dying for an opportunity to talk with him since he walked on the bus. his bright smile, soft red hair, and cheery attitude were almost magnetic.

"so," you clear your throat. he looks in your direction with his eyebrows raised. "do you take the bus often? i don't think i've seen you on before."

his arm reaches up to scratch the back of his head. "almost never, actually. you see, my car wouldn't turn on this morning, and i didn't have time to fix it today. i was able to get a ride this morning, but i was left on my own tonight," he shakes his head with an airy laugh. "but i don't mind. i used to ride it a lot in high school."

you hum. he points to you.

"how about you?"

"oh!" you suddenly feel nervous with his warm brown eyes on you. "the bus stops right in front of my work, so i just take it in every day. much easier than driving through downtown during rush hour."

"right!" hinata turns his full body towards you in excitement. "i absolutely hate when our coach schedules practice for those times-oh, my name is hinata shoyo by the way," he reaches his hand out, and you share your name while you shake. "my teammates never seem to care though. i just get so impatient,"

"tell me about it," you sigh. months of trying to navigate the stresses of the parking lot come to mind. "you mentioned teammates, right?"

"yep!" he beams. you could melt on the spot. "i play volleyball, um, professionally," his words trail off at the end with a polite, less enthusiastic smile.

this is the part where hinata usually falters. the conversation goes one of two ways after this; either they perk up at the sound, suddenly interested in the word professional, or they roll their eyes. no matter how he delivers it, it's never received in the way that he hopes.

"wait, for MSBY right?"

his ears perk up. "yes! how-"

"i've seen you before. there's a billboard right outside my office."

he nods, almost a little embarrassed. he really hopes that it's at least a good photo.

he only has a couple stops left, and he really doesn't want to blow this. you're the most beautiful girl he's ever seen, and he is positive that this isn't by chance.

"w-well, i could get you tickets if you would like. i mean, if you're into that sort of thing,"

you smile. "i would love that! i've actually always wanted to go to a game,"

"what! now you have to go," he laughs, a real laugh and you can't help but feel warm inside. you can't seem to remember the stresses of the week, not with him beside you. "here, if you wouldn't mind."

he hands you his phone, contacts already opened and ready for your information. you fill it out quickly, sending yourself a message before handing it back to him.

"we're actually headed to tokyo next week, so our next home game won't be for a bit. but, i promise i will let you know when i find out!"

"you're sweet."

hinata blushes. his mouth opens to speak, but he's cut off by the hiss of the bus breaks once again.

"well, this is me," you stand up, grabbing your things.

his stomach flips.

"mind if i join you?"

you giggle. "to walk off the bus? is this even your stop?"

no, it's not.

"why not?"

you think for a second before nodding. he gives you a toothy grin. the two of you thank the bus driver before heading off, one right after the other. hinata hits the pavement with a sigh.

"it was good to meet you tonight," he says your name with a smile.

"you as well hinata. got any fun plans for the evening?"

"i was going to see some of my teammates. how about you?"

"oh my gosh," you stretch, looking up at the light dancing of stars. "order take out, watch a show, go to bed late," you shake your head. "nothing too exciting."

the two of you stand in silence once again. hinata kicks at a rock on the sidewalk, and you pull at a thread on your jacket.

"hey-"

"yeah i-"

the two of you look at each other with shy smiles and quick laughs.

"i have a few days off until we head to tokyo. would you want to get some dinner with me before then?"

"i would like that," you eye him as he starts to turn on his heels.

"okay, then it's a date!"

"see you soon, hinata. text me!" you shout with a giggle and he turns around to give you a wink.

"you can count on it!"

[dpr-stay]

Lovefool | Diluc x Reader

Hehehhehe Diluc Angst (tbh not that I really need to do much) also not edited!!

WC:1k

“If you could go anywhere in the world, where?” You asked curiously, staring into Diluc’s eyes. The young master closed them for a second, thinking, before he opened them to respond.

“I’m not sure.” His voice was a sort of cold you were used to, inner walls remaining strong even though you’d burst your way through most of his outer fortifications. You kept looking at his eyes, half hidden behind his bangs whenever he’d duck his head, the red iris’s shining whenever the light caught on them.

“All I know is that I’d leave if I could.” His words, like usual, were straight to the point. You furrowed your eyebrows at their heavy connotations. He sighed at your expression, sinking further into his seat. His hands came to rest on the table, not fidgeting but slowly intertwining.

You didn’t let yourself become distracted, instead gesturing for him to continue and explain his statement. He paused for a moment, glancing down to seemingly contemplate his words.

“I don’t want to stay here. I want to be able to travel. I want to continue my fathers legacy, but I don’t want to be confined by it.” He said, his fingers flexing where they held each other.

You took a minute to process his words, the, by Diluc’s standards, word vomit needing a few moments to sink into your mind. You inhaled tightly through your nose.

He wanted to leave. He wanted to explore. You could understand that. He had to feel trapped. He’d spent his years stuck in the winery, stuck in the Knights of Favonius, stuck in the grief of losing his father.

You looked up at him, the man he’d become. Turned from the kid you’d first met under the careful eye of your mother who worked as a maid in the winery, to the teenager who decided to pledge himself to the knights, and now the man who felt trapped.

No, he said ‘confined’. You thought back the times you’d spend by his side, wondering if he felt confined back then.

Back when you’d blow dandelions together, when you’d taken work in the Good Hunter to be closer to him during his training, to now when you sat across from him, trying to read his emotions.

You felt a weight settle across your shoulders, dread slowly creeping into you as you surveyed his behaviour. He had been tense when he’d asked you to meet him here, never stuttering but hesitating which was very unusual.

He looked back at you.

“I think…” He started, averting his gaze, before continuing with more fervor.

“I need to leave.” He said, his hands flattening down on the table, his throat bobbing as he talked, his eyes set and resolute.

Need. He said he needed to leave. Like he needed air to breathe, he needed to leave.

You don’t think you’ve ever heard Diluc say that he needed something. Maybe once when you were still children, but the young man opposite you hadn’t needed anything in a long time.

He’d never needed parties, or presents, and you realised, with a heavy heart, he’d certainly never needed you.

But he needed to leave.

You swallowed, nodding slowly. He gazed at you, trying to read your face, but you let a reliable shield of passivity role over you. He looked at you as though asking for permission, a questioning lilt in his eyes.

“You need to leave?” You asked, voice not cracking but blocked by your throat. He nodded, an air of finality about his movement.

“Have you already made plans?” You asked, before realising how stupid it was. Of course Diluc had made plans, he was always prepared, he was just here to say goodbye.

Regardless, he nodded. You tried to swallow, sincerely you tried. You refused to let yourself falter. The silence hung in the air for a second before you spoke up.

“Diluc.” you said, the man still gazing at you with eyes you began to fear you could no longer read.

“If there was anything in the world that could make you stay, what would it be?” Sure it may come across pathetic, probably because it was, but you wanted to know. Was there any possible way you could not lose him?

He closed his eyes, his habit that you’d already picked up suddenly seeming more alien, before he shook his head slightly. He didn’t open his eyes to see the way yours faltered and darkened.

Perhaps it was foolish to hope. You’d known that at some point Diluc would snap, or something. You’d known that something would change. But you’d never imagine that he’d run away.

It felt as though a rug had been pulled out from under your feet, any and all cliche that describes feeling betrayed. A kick-in-the-gut, like a knife to your back, trust shattered like broken glass.

You tried to mask your heartbreak, but you knew that if he looked at you he would be able to tell. You didn’t know if you could consider it merciful when he stood up without looking at you, placing a few mora on the table and pushing his chair in.

“Diluc.” You said quietly. He paused in his movements. You mustered your courage. You knew the answer to the question you were about to ask, but you had to make sure. You needed to know, just in the slightest case.

“If I asked you to stay, would you?” You uttered. You watched his gloved hands tighten on the chair, the moment seeming to stretch for hours. You didn’t look up from his hands, but you saw his jaw clench from your peripheral.

He opened his mouth, looking at the floor, before closing it.

“I’m glad I got to see you before I left.” He turned and walked away. You watched him retreat, feeling as though someone had taken a picaxe and hacked through your back. You immediately looked down at the drink in front of you, trying to pretend the tears in your eyes was the condensation on the glass.

You had your answer.

[zchnlswrld]

JAEMIN’S BROKEN MELODY: IN MY DREAMS

NCT DREAM’S BROKEN MELODIES

TW: I JUST REALISED JAEMIN IS GASLIGHTING!

“Come on, Jaem!” You shout as you let go of your swinging hands and ran forward giggling. Jaemin takes a second to laugh too before lightly jogging to catch up, picnic basket still in his tight grip.

“Did you just challenge me, the 42 on the court, to a race of some sort?” He questions with his eyebrows raised, amused.

You grab his hand closest to you and slow down, then shake your head. “No…” Your other hand grabs his wrist and you pull him down before taking a head start. He stands back for a while, watching you go on happily before easily running past and taking the lead.

“Come on, Y/N!” He repeats the same playful tone you had moments before. Jaemin turns around and walks slowly, waiting for you to reach him.

“Ok, this was short lived, I’m done, you win.” You gesture between the two of you and take in a large breath of the outdoor air.

He laughs and you and reaches his hand out for you to grab, a smile setting on his face that you had dreamed of seeing for months. It was that of a Prince’s. His lips were tight and as a result the apples of his cheeks were highlighted, his eyes had a slight curve to them turning them into small crescent moons.

You immediately take his hand and begin to swing them, both of you silent and completely content as you went home, basking in each others presence. The warm, low sun adding to the atmosphere.

The sound of laughter fills your ears as you walk past a park filled with kids saying goodbye to their new friends and teens getting ready to take over the park when all the kids are gone, obviously planning to participate in underage drinking and playing around in the park once intoxicated.

“Ayo! Na!” The pair of you hear a shout from behind and stop walking.

You feel Jaemin’s had slightly tighten around yours, something that wouldn’t be noticeable if you hadn’t been so happy he was holding your hand. The fact that it wasn’t a huge difference made you think that it was something he didn’t intend to do.

“Is that Y/N too?” Another voice teasingly questions.

Jaemin turns his head first and let’s put a quiet laugh, his grip staying the same as he pulled you closer to him. Once again it was a movement that usually would have gone unnoticed however you were so focused on the boy you had to notice.

The people calling out take you stopping as their sign to catch up and you can hear their footsteps getting closer.

It was his, god awful, team.

“Hey, Y/N.” That flirty tone tells you it’s Haechan without having to look.

Jeno places his arm around Jaemin and pulls him into his side, briefly pulling your hands apart but you take note of how quick his is to grab your hand again.

“How about a game before you guys go home?” Chenle offers, lifting up the ball in his hands.

“You sure Y/N’s parents will be fine with you guys going back after curfew?” Jisung quietly teases and Mark bumps fists with him.

Jaemin shoots the pair a warning look, one that doesn’t get ignored by any of you, “We have to-”

“I’ll take the basket and wait by the court, hm?” You say, reaching over him to take the basket out of his hands.

“It’s settled then. Rock, paper, scissors for the teams?” Mark suggests, signalling for the group to go to the court.

You smile at Jaemin when he looks back at you, silently begging you to change your mind.

He pouts and frowns and in response you point to a tree closest to the court and wave before going.

Once you get there you take the pink picnic blanket (Jaemin’s choice of course, saying that it would give the date that “summer lovin’” feel) out of the basket, straightening it out as much as you can and sitting down on it.

Now situated you placed the basket next to you and pulled out the book you had originally been reading to Jaemin during your date.

“4 on 3 wouldn’t work so I’m sitting it out.” You heard Renjun speak as he sat on the blanket, not too close to you but close enough for you to understand that maybe you shouldn’t read.

Picking up the basket you move it to the small space between you, “Sandwich?” You offer awkwardly.

You hear the basket lid creak and he replies with a small “Thank you.”

Your eyes drifted towards the court, the boys laughter filling your ears.

A smile gradually sets in on your face.

“Why are you looking at him like that?” His friend questions, mouth filled with with food.

He gets no response.

“Hey.” He tries to grab your attention.

“Oi.” He swallows his food.

He stays quiet following silence from you, assessing your smiling and longing look.

Although you stated at him with fully dilated eyes, if he focused enough he could swear your pupils turned into little hearts, which didn’t match the longing within them. Such a wide smile too, it didn’t add up.

You quietly cheer for Jaemin when he points at you and scores. Renjun takes note of your smile and eyes not changing and the realisation sets in.

His face drops and his heart does slightly.

“You need to talk to him about it.” He says carefully however he still doesn’t catch your attention.

The boy places his hand on your wrist, slowly you look at him but keep your eyes trained on Jaemin for as long as you can.

“You’re looking at him like that, say something.” He repeats himself from earlier.

You stare at him, brows frowned, and hesitantly he lets go of you. Without a second thought you look back to Jaemin and his friends as they cheer, seemingly scoring once again.

Jaemin hands the picnic basket back to your mother with a smile, followed by him placing the blanket on your kitchen island. You give your mother a quick smile and wave before shooting upstairs and a now confused Jaemin follows behind.

"Aren't you saying 'Hi'? You usually do." He asks, coming up the stairs.

You don't reply and instead continue your way to your bedroom. You leave the door open for Jaemin to close behind him on the way in.

He leans on the doorway, watching as you sit on your bed. He raises an eyebrow at your lack of response and tilts his head slightly.

“You coming or not? I’m not going to lie but I think just gliding past her when she did nothing is a little r-”

“I’m not mad at you… if that’s what you think.” You clear your throat.

He laughs. “Why would you be? Playing with the boys didn’t upset you did it?” He comes in, shutting the door and sitting beside you.

He reaches to grab your hand but you pull back. Silence takes over and you bite your lip.

Say it and get it over with or keep it to yourself and let it eat you alive.

“Did Renjun upset you?” He questions but you shake your head almost immediately.

A look you can’t quite explain takes over his face, “Well I can’t help you if don’t tell me, can I?” You shake your head again.

Slowly you reach out for one of Jaemin’s hand to play with while you look for the right words. He takes this as a silent apology for pulling away moments ago and allows it.

“Renjun said…” you start cautiously “if I know something I should say something.” He quietly nods along.

“And I do know something, so I should tell you.” He nods once again.

You take a deep breath. “I figured it out weeks ago.”

His brows frown in confusion. “You don’t have to pretend Jaemin, I know. The bet, everything. How you said you’d do it without a second thought, how you tell the boys that we’ll be over soon and you can have your money, all of it. I figured out most and heard the rest.

Silence follows once more and Jaemin sits to process what you’ve said.

Before he can start overthinking you speak up again. “I’m not mad.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why aren’t you mad?”

“What do you mean?”

He pulls his hand away from your and stands up. “Y/N I played you like a fiddle and you’re ‘not mad’,” he says with air quotes “you should be shouting at me right now.”

“Well I’m not.” You try to end the conversation there by going to leave but Jaemin pulls you back, you’re now both face to face. If you weren’t both emotional you would have kissed him.

“Not even a little?”

“No.”

“Wh-”

“Would you rather I was?”

“N-”

“Then leave i-”

“Stop cutting me off.” He interjects.

You shake your wrist out of his grip and step back. “I’m not mad, we’re fine, it’s all fine, if you don’t like me you can go, if you like me you can still go but come back tomorrow, I don’t know-”

“You’re rambling honey.” He slows his breathing. “Just deep breaths, match mine.” And you do almost instantly.

He gestures you to sit on your bed once again and you do, Jaemin sits at your desk further away to allow the space you had wanted.

After a few moments he speaks up again. “Why aren't you mad?"

"I could be, I'm not sure if I am, I just feel something but it doesn't feel like anger." You shrug.

Jaemin sighs, "That didn't answer my question."

You bite your lip again. He knows this is a sign of nervousness, it was the same thing you had done when he asked you on a date and then when he asked you out and then just before your first kiss together.

“I know it’s weird to mention now of all times because we had such fun today but… you made me feel special. I’ve never had this with anyone. These past few months have been great and you’ve been almost all of my first’s, that’s why I’m not mad. I’d been waiting for those days since I was a kid and you made them special so I just let them happen.” As soon as it’s off your chest your heart feels the tiniest bit lighter.

Jaemin stand up again, a sign of frustration you can recognise instantly. “You were fine with it because it made you feel special? Do you have any self respect?”

“You’re the one that asked me out Jaemin.” You argue.

“You let it go on like this-”

“No, you did!” You shout, he’s never heard you shout. "You knew, you could have stopped it and I know I could have too but you brought me into this, you did. Yes, I let it happen because I dreamed of days like this but you can't put this on me!"

You continue. "I know I shouldn't shout and I know I said I wasn't mad but you keep pushing Jaemin so now I'm shouting and I don't want to so can you please just let it go?" You give him no time to reply. "Thank you."

"I'm not mad so let it go." You finally breathe out, concluding your outburst.

An unsettling silence fills the room, you understand how it came about however it was too heavy to just brush under the rug.

Jaemin stands up and walks to your bedroom door. "Jaem, you don't have to go and I'm sorry for shouting." You quickly rush and stand behind him, placing your hand on his wrist.

He uses his other hand to push yours off. He stands completely straight, making him much taller than you, for the first time his size intimidates you in a way you can't describe.

He meets eyes with you and his heart sinks slightly, not enough for him to fully feel anything but just enough for him to notice and slightly question it.

“What are you doing?” His voice is completely different from the one he’s been talking to you with.

You frown at him in confusion. “You’ve found me out, you want me to stay? Please.” He scoffs. “What am I supposed to say?”

“Hm?” You audibly question.

He faces towards the door and pushes the handle down to open it. He sighs, to calm himself or you he’s not sure, and gives you a quick look. “Look, I understand that I made you feel amazing. And I really do love your company and you-” He cuts himself off.

“But?” You encourage him to continue.

He pulls the door open. “But we’re kids, you have your life ahead of you. Other people can make you feel special, it’s not that hard.” He keeps it brief before shutting the door behind himself.

On the other side of the door he hears your sniffles and stands there dejected. He frowns and slightly pouts as he feels his eyes water. Quickly, he wipes under his nose and goes back downstairs.

Jaemin walks into the kitchen to collect his blanket and belongings but is met with the sight of your mother staring at him. “Are- are you two alright?” She questions softly.

The boy picks up his items and silently shrugs.

“Will it be ok and do I need to worry about either of you?” She places her hand on his forearm.

Jaemin looks down at her hand and shakes his head “I’m not sure.” He whispers. “I’m not sure of anything anymore.” He tells her.

“You made their dreams come true, mine too, please make sure you both make up.” She lightly pats his cheek and nods before leaving, he assumes to go upstairs and make sure you’re also ok.

With that he turns around and leaves with a heavy heart. Once he shuts the front door he takes a few steps forward and looks back at the house. However when he does it becomes obvious tears have brimmed his eyes, blurring his vision.

He catches a glimpse of you in your bedroom, your mother hugging you with your head resting on her shoulder and her chin on your head but before he can even process the heartbreaking image he wipes away his tears before they can fall and the still is gone, bedroom curtains closed.

You had spent nights in that bedroom together talking, laughing and holding each other’s hand in complete silence to just bask in each other presence. You were both content.

Now it was all gone over a reaction he can’t even explain and a situation he’s not sure he can fix.

He looks away from the house and heads home, a long journey by foot which would have been worth it if you had given him a quick kiss on the cheek at the door as he leaves however this time the walk is made an hour longer with each step becoming heavier than the next.

When he’s home he’s met with the sight of his friend on his couch.

“Your parents said they didn’t know when you’d be back from Y/N’s so we could wait for you!” He catches Haechan shout to him from his living room, his voiced mixed in with sounds from the TV and the groups fighting over who gets to play next.

Jaemin clears his throat before replying “Alright, let me just change and I’ll be in.” He hears someone say back something along the lines of alright or yeah so he heads for the stairs.

Renjun meets him in the hallway, he says nothing but gives him a look of pity.

The boy meets his eye but walks past him regardless, leaving for his bedroom with his friend following him.

He drops his things onto the floor as soon as he reaches his room and leaves the door open for Renjun much like you had for him earlier in the day.

Without any thought he lays faced up on his bed staring at the ceiling. He lays slightly to the left, a force of habit as you would usually lay on your side on the right and look at him with so much love it hurts to even think about at the moment.

His friend comes in and shuts the door behind him, leaning against it.

“Renjun.”

“Hm.”

“What do I do now?”

Taglist (reply to masterlist post to join): @sukistrawberry @lovesuhng @shwizhies @niinjo @renjunoya @carelessshootanonymous @hyuckissed @funkygoose @fymine @asteriaskingdom @iscocohere @calssunflower @kunvibing

[gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot]

Can I please have a small oneshot on a topic "What does Simon Riley need"? Maybe it's a promotion, or a raise? An apology, maybe? Can be also not so serious, maybe 'steal Soaps practice chanter, so the base can live in peace and silence for at least one evening'. Love-love-love!

Ooooooh I like it! I set it before my fic, I'm sure people are absolutely fed up with finding Riot everywhere.

Also, I can't write short things it seems! Thanks for the ask, I had a lot of fun! <3

''What do you mean, there's nothing else to do?''

Captain Price sighed, looking up from his own paperwork to find Simon's glaring brown eyes fixed on him. The Lieutenant was standing right in front of his desk, arms crossed, his looming, imposing frame almost obscuring the entire view of the office's door.

''Simon, it's a bank holiday. More than half of the privates are on leave, and the training drills are on hold. There's no one to train, no new paperwork, no vehicle needs fixing''

''Give me some of your paperwork then''

Christ, he sounded almost desperate. For someone else, Ghost's voice was as deadpan and inexpressive as always, but for someone who had known him for more than a decade, from before he was Ghost, it was easy to distinguish the little details. The stiffness of his broad shoulders, the way his fingers dug in his own biceps while crossing arms, the way his eyes were almost pleading.

''I'm almost done and I'm leaving, I just have to sign it. And no, you can't forge my signature''

''Well, in fact I can''

Price chuckled, shaking his head and making a show of how he was signing the last paper. Ghost groaned, tempted to just throw his hands in the air, but he simply walked over to the window to look out. The base was eerily silent.

The Captain waited patiently, checking his papers, but in reality he was observing the Lieutenant. It wasn't unusual for them to spend hours in silence in that very office, doing paperwork and sharing a glass of whiskey, sometimes even a cigar. He knew how to deal with Simon, he had done so countless times in the past. He just had to wait.

Sometimes, he even knew how to deal with Ghost.

''I just need something to do'' The younger man muttered at last, his back still to his superior officer.

Price nodded knowingly, tossing the stack of papers on his desk and leaning back on his chair, looking at Ghost.

''Well, there might be something...''

''What is it?'' Simon turned to look at him, not even bothering to hide his anxiety. He needed something, anything to do, to quiet down his mind.

''Soap and Gaz are plotting something in the common room'' Price checked his watch, with a serious face. ''I heard them during breakfast. I didn't quite catch what it was''

''Knowing them, nothing good'' Simon was already thinking of the possibilities, each one grimmer than the last. They could be planning to make the microwave explode. Or maybe fill the room with post-its, one of them had done so to their office, so it wasn't beyond them. Or, God forbid, they could be planning to stuff the sofa's cushions with glitter. They had already done that as well.

''Exactly'' The Captain nodded, observing with satisfaction how Ghost's eyes were already distant, his brain trying to come up with a plan to discover the Sergeants' shenanigans. ''I trust you'll keep an eye on them to make them behave, Simon''

Ghost just grunted. He didn't want to appear thankful or anything, but Price took the sound for what it was, and waved him goodbye while the Lieutenant left the office, his heavy steps echoing in the hallway until they faded in the distance.

*

When Ghost was halfway down the corridor, with the common room's door in his sight already, he could hear it. The microwave. Popping sounds and giggling.

The fucking microwave.

He quickened his pace and threw the door open, ready to sternly tell off both MacTavish and Garrick, only to find them excitedly gathered around the microwave, with an empty bowl and another bowl full of... popcorn.

They were making popcorn.

''Lt!'' Soap's wide grin welcomed him. ''Do you want to join us? We're going to watch a film!''

Even Gaz looked glad to see him. Ghost's eyes narrowed beneath his balaclava.

''What are you plotting?''

''Right now, just to get all the kernel to pop'' Gaz shrugged, still smiling and then watching again the microwave. Both Sergeants were giggling with glee each time there was a loud pop sound coming from inside, and Ghost considered for a moment if they had hit their heads earlier in the day or something.

''Are you sure that's all you're doing?''

''Aye, Lt... There's nothing to do, and most people have left for the holiday. Oi, care to join us?''

The Lieutenant considered his options. He could leave, which was his usual choice, and then the two Sergeants would finally do whatever it was they were planning to really do. Or he could stay, and twart their plans.

''Hmph'' He grunted, nodding gruffly just once. Soap's grin widened, and put the bowl full of popcorn in his hands, and Ghost stood there, not really knowing what to do while the Scott grabbed another.

The microwave started beeping, and he almost stepped back, completely sure that it would explode and that it was all a ploy, but Gaz simply opened the door and opened the bag to drop the hot popcorn in the empty bowl, so that the three of them had a bowl each.

The two Sergeants sat down on the sofa, leaving the armchair for him. That's what Ghost preferred anyway, and the three of them were too big to share the sofa without being all over each other like a pile of rags.

''What are we supposed to be watching?'' The Lieutenant asked, a bit of scorn in his voice, obviously not really believing their story. But Gaz and Soap were just smiling like little, innocent kids while the Scot turned the smart TV on and inserted an USB.

''I downloaded one of the films I used to watch as a kid with my fam, and Gaz used to watch it too! So we thought we'd go down the memory road''

''Murder by Death'' Gaz laughed, his mouth already full of popcorn. ''Have you watched it, Lt?''

''Can't say that I have'' God, even the title was absurd. What did Price think these two idiots would...?

Crap

Price

The fucking old man (only older than him by a few years, but old nonetheless).

Ghost was tempted to stand up and go find Price so he could stuff his throat full of popcorn, but in that moment the film started and Soap and Gaz cheered like two idiots.

He would have smiled if it hadn't been so fucking stupid. But the smell of the popcorn, and the... nauseatingly, pleasantly domestic feeling that was creeping in while he observed the two younger men all giddy...

He'd stay for a bit. Just to make sure they would behave.

*

An hour later, Price was passing through when he heard laughter coming from the common room. Three voices.

One was Soap, laughing hysterically. Gaz's laugh was a bit quieter, but he seemed to be enjoying it just as much. And the third voice...

The Captain stopped in his tracks, just to listen to it a bit more. Simon's laugh, which he hadn't heard in years. He had heard chuckles, snorts, maybe a short barked laugh. But not that belly laugh that Price remembered so fondly and so sadly.

Smiling, he continued his way, satisfied. His own little plot had worked beautifully. He still got it.

[brighteststar707]

Daydreams

I’ve been trying to get used to writing again, so I thought I’d be self-indulgent and write about kissing my number one boy.

✦ Saeyoung x Reader (set during his route)

✦ Words: 1607

✦  Genre: Fluff

Here’s the thing: Seven really wants to kiss you.

Here’s the problem: he’s stuck in his dungeon of an office, a safe (but frustrating) distance away. Here’s another problem: he isn’t supposed to be kissing anyone, or even thinking about kissing anyone. As Vanderwood has reminded him several times, attachments are dangerous.

Even so, he wants to kiss you when you shamelessly flirt with him in the chatrooms and join in on his ridiculous pranks. He wonders what your smile would feel like pressed against his lips. It’s a good thing you can’t see how hard you make him blush.

Once or twice, you’ve called him up late at night and, in a tone more serious than he’s ever heard from you, told him that you hoped he was taking care of himself. How was he supposed to say that you’re in more danger than you think (thanks to him) and that he’d work himself to the point of exhaustion rather than see you get hurt?

He doesn’t. He does tell you a joke about how he’s the invincible God Seven, but even over the phone he can tell that you’re not convinced. When he hangs up, he rubs his aching eyes and wonders if you’d hold him if he asked nicely. If you’d kiss his temples and tell him that this headache, this stress, this exhaustion will pass.

It gets worse once he starts obsessively watching the cameras. He stares at his screen so intensely that he starts to see it behind his eyelids when he closes his eyes. It’s all worth it, though, for the glimpses he catches of you when you leave the apartment. Surely, you must know that he’s always watching for you, because you often take the time to wave at the camera before you go. A little sign, just for him. It gives him butterflies every time you do it.

It’s a problem. He is supposed to be focusing on protecting you, and instead he’s fantasizing about what it would be like to be in that apartment with you. No hacking, no bomb, no threats. He’d be the Seven you like, not the liar Luciel who keeps nasty secrets. You’d still talk to him the way you do now, maybe with more cheeky flirting and less concern. 

Instead of obsessively watching the camera footage for the off chance that he’d get to see you for a second, he’d be there, sharing space with you. Maybe you’d mention that you’re out of groceries, that you needed to go out for more. And instead of staring at the screen intensely like he does, he’d walk you to the door.

Maybe, just maybe, he’d kiss you goodbye. He’d cup your face between his hands (you wouldn’t mind that the skin on his palms was callused), and gently bring you close to him. You’d smile at him, that smile he has only managed to see once or twice so far but has imprinted in his memory. And then, he’d kiss you.

It’s all very distracting. And embarrassing when Vanderwood comes back into his study and asks him why he’s so red.

Hey, even agents can dream. 

✦✧✦✧ 

  It’s not like he has never kissed anybody before. From the beginning the agency had made it pretty clear that he was to use all the tools at his disposal in order to achieve his goals. It didn’t take him long to realize they meant his body, too.

He could probably count all the kisses he has had, if he tried. But those kisses were different from what he pictures when he thinks of you. They were stolen in dark, hazy rooms, his mind was always elsewhere, trying to get to the next step of the plan. Most of those memories don’t feel like they belong to him at all, that’s how far he has dissociated himself from them.

So, really, it doesn’t matter how many people he has kissed. Nothing has ever felt like this before. His fantasies about kissing you leave him feeling hot and fuzzy. He fixates on every detail, lingers in the moment and wonders if you feel the same way. He isn’t sure what he wants the answer to be. 

  ✦✧✦✧

It’s funny how quickly things can change.

A week ago, Seven was sitting in the safe solitude of his office. He was in his element, protecting you the best way he knew how, and fully in denial of how quickly his feelings for you were growing.

It was easy, back then, to dream up fairy tales, knowing full well just how ridiculous they were. The thought of sharing the apartment with you was outlandish enough, let alone the idea of the two of you kissing. It was all just harmless daydreaming.

Turns out, those feelings were a lot more real than he had let himself believe. You were no longer an image on a screen, a voice through a phone, but a living, breathing person. You had cute little habits he never could have guessed at before, and you were frustratingly fixated on getting close to him.

Oh, and now you’re close. So impossibly close. With your arms resting on his shoulders, hands fiddling with the hair at the base of his neck, looking at him with such certainty in your eyes.

And oh, he really wants to kiss you.  

The strange sequence of events that led up to this point is one he still can’t piece together fully. Despite everything he said and did over the past few days, you still treated him with the same kindness you had always shown him. You somehow still want him, somehow seem to like him as much as he likes you.

His own hands rest uselessly by his sides, caught somewhere between the overwhelming need for you and the fear of what will happen if he gives in.

In all his fantasies, he was perfectly in control. His head was clear, his every movement intentional. He was the one holding you close, giving you that look you’re giving him now. However, he had failed to consider the overwhelming sensations that would cloud his head in the moment itself. The scent of you surrounding him completely, the intensity of your eyes studying his face, the burning in his cheeks.

The world is shifting on its axis, and it’s a wonder he’s still standing upright. And he hasn’t even kissed you yet.

It’s in the way you play with his hair, so at ease, even in a moment like this. He isn’t sure if anyone has ever touched him like this. It’s making his stomach do somersaults and his thoughts run wild. He can’t focus on everything at once, and his gaze drops to your lips.

You smile.

That’s what does it. That smile, the one he has only seen a few times, and seen only directed at him over a pixelated CCTV feed. It breaks through the buzzing in his head and the pounding of his heart and gives him the push he has been looking for.

He cups your face in his hands (you don’t seem to mind the roughness of his palms) and pulls your face towards his. The last thing he sees before he closes his eyes is your smile.

The first kiss is something soft, experimental, your lips just moulded together. A taste.

Against his lips, he feels you hum softly. That’s all it takes for his remaining hesitancy to melt away.

Instead, it is replaced with a sense of urgency so intense that he can feel it in the back of his throat. All the fear, the loneliness, the desperation of the past few days catches up to him and he needs to make up for all the time he has lost, right now.

His hands move to the back of your head, and he pulls your face back towards him. You crash together again, this time all notions of gentleness forgotten. He kisses you hard and you nip at his lower lip until he opens for you. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wonders if you haven’t been harbouring any fantasies of your own. Then, he feels you tug at his hair and he doesn’t think anything at all.

Where the first kiss was soft, this one is hungry. He cannot have you close enough, cannot catch his breath, cannot think about anything but you you you. His hands drop down to your waist to pull your bodies flush together. After enduring several days of self-imposed distance from each other, he relishes the feeling of you under his hands.  

When you break apart, you keep your arms around him. He’s glad. He isn’t sure what will happen if you let go of him now. You smooth out his hair where you tugged at it before, and he shivers. His hands linger on your hips, fingertips still buzzing with the thrill of touching you. Nothing feels quite real, like the colours are too bright and his skin is too sensitive to your touch.

It must show on his face, because your expression goes from giddy to concerned. “Are you alright, Seven? Was that okay?”

“Okay… Hah…” He has apparently also forgotten how to speak. There is a piece of hair that he must have messed up earlier, and he reaches out to fix it. His brain usually doesn’t have any trouble keeping up, but today it feels like he is wading through deep water, like everything takes more effort than it should. He takes a breath, allows his heart a moment to slow down.

“It’s like... I’m dreaming.”

[seaweedroll]

Blood and Roses Pt. 2

Sorry it took me so long to finish it, studies are taking up most of my time! This is more of a filler part, setting up for a big day... Part 3 will be out soon!

The sun rose above King’s Landing, exposing last night’s secrets and sins. Some of them blamed spring, most of them blamed strong wine supplied by Dorne and none of them blamed themselves for the foolish actions of the night.

Lady Y/N Tyrell could not sleep at all, tossing and turning in her white silk sheets. Mind occupied by questions she was to ask her father in the morning and body… body burning with desire she never experienced. Daemon Targaryen’s rough treatment awakened something in her, something she never thought was there. She was always the gentle one, the White Rose of Highgarden, good girl. Yet, with Daemon she was ready to give up her innocence and savour his blood after merely an hour together.

Soon after sunrise, her maids came to help her dress, informing that she was about to meet her father and the King. Surely, this was regarding what Daemon said last night.

‘Ah, there she is’ her father greeted her with an open embrace, unusual gesture to her. ‘My darling, I have some wonderful news to share’ he gently guided her further inside the hall. King Viserys sat on the chair and Daemon stood behind him, cut on the lip healing nicely. She lowered her eyes, not daring to meet his cocky gaze, too embarrassed to remember their last night’s interaction.

‘King Viserys bestowed the greatest honour upon us’ Garlan sweet talked. ‘His Majesty wants you to be the wife of his dear brother!’ he feigned a surprise. ‘Any father would want such fine husband for his daughter. But his Majesty, as a father to a daughter of his own’ Garlan Tyrell tugged on the heartstrings of the King ‘Understands that I must ask you first. For there is nothing I want more than the happiness of my child’ his manipulation obvious to everyone but the king. ‘So, my daughter, do you agree to take Prince Daemon as your husband?’ his question had a hidden threat in it.

Y/N looked at Daemon, his serpent- like eyes boring into her. There was her chance – surely the king would allow her freedom should she refuse to marry his brother otherwise her father wouldn’t’ve asked her. She could go to Dorne, be with Quentyn, a man who would not grope her against the walls of the castle. Daemon brushed his thumb against his bruised lip, an action that reminded her the way he tasted.

‘Yes’, her lips spoke before her mind could catch up. She gasped, making Daemon chuckle. Her father embraced her, congratulating her on her ‘wise choice’. The king gave approving smile. And then, she felt her hand being placed in the rough one.

‘You made me the happiest man in the realm’ Daemon kissed her hand.

The wedding was set to happen on the next new moon which was in a fortnight. Surely, her father rushed it, he’d waste no time to get his plan in order. Tons of roses came from Highgarden, the best tailors worked day and night to make her gown – white and red. Y/N hadn’t seen Daemon much in those weeks and that was both comfort and torture to her. She was haunted by strange, bothering dreams that robbed her of sleep and made her restless during the day. The only place she found comfort was the royal gardens and the vast collection of various blooms. She was especially fond of white jasmines; a flower that reminded her of Quentyn. Y/N still missed him, he had been her first infatuation after all. She wished she could’ve explained herself, that she had nothing to do with this whole…situation. And her wish was about to come true.

‘Y/N!’ a familiar voice pulled her out from her reverie. Prince Quentyn was standing next to her, a sad expression on his beautiful face. ‘Your maid told me I’d find you here. I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye’.

‘Quentyn, I am so sorry’ she stood up from the bench. Her eyes ran across his face. ‘I had no idea my father…’

‘No need to apologise, my lady’ he dared to look at her. ‘I understand the delicate situation a lady of your station finds herself. I only wish it that things would’ve worked differently. I wish you would’ve been traveling to Dorne with me’ he gently took her hands. They were always so warm, kind and inviting.

‘Oh Quentyn’ she brushed a rogue curl off his forehead. In a moment of braveness, she leaned to kiss him on the cheek. A bittersweet taste on her lips. One more look at him and she turned on her heel to walk away, unaware of a watchful gaze lurking in the depths of the garden.

As soon as she turned around the corner, a pair of arms pulled her from behind. Before she could let out a scream, a large hand covered her mouth.

‘My darling has been naughty and sneaking around with strange men’ Daemon whispered into her ear. ‘Need I remind you that you are to become my wife tomorrow?’ his grip on her tightened, hurting. She shook her head, fearing what he might do. ‘Good girl’ the Dragon kissed her neck, hand from the waist travelled up to her breast, cupping it. She struggled against him, nails digging into his arms. She would have to obey his demands, but only from tomorrow. Now she struggled for that little freedom she had left.

His kisses grew hotter, she could feel his dragon breath on her skin, threatening to burn her.

‘My Lord, please’ she begged, voice quivering. ‘I didn’t do anything wrong’ she pleaded. ‘You are my betrothed I would never do anything to hurt you’ as soon as she said that he stopped. The prince turned her around to face him, eyes scanning her face, trying to find the lie he was so sure she had hidden somewhere in her words, in her eyes.

His grip on her eased but eyes remained dark. Y/N knew she had offended him by suggesting that she could hurt him. As if he cared about her. But looking into his eyes she realised that she did care about him. Slowly, she raised her hand to cup his face and to her surprise, he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. Lady Y/N admired the beautiful features of the Targaryen prince, softened by this moment of intimacy. He placed a kiss onto her palm that held him ever so gently and then leaned to place a soft kiss on her lips.

She couldn’t contain her smile while kissing him. Everything seemed to be falling into the right places and her fears of tomorrow melting away. He pulled away to look at her, dark storm replaced by gentle silver clouds. Daemon took off his cloak and wrapped around her, hiding the torn garment of hers. After taking one more look at his future bride, he gave her a kiss on the forehead

‘See you tomorrow, my darling’ he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving her in the gardens.

Y/N took her time to collect her thoughts. She’d seen a different side of her future husband, a gentle and kind one, the one she was sure not many people had witnessed. Their interaction eased her fears about their wedding night – her mother and sisters warned her that it will be unpleasant and painful but it’s her duty to submit herself to her husband. But she was excited, giddy…alive.

Slightly sinful thoughts followed her all the way to her chambers. She didn’t even notice Otto Hightower who tried to get her attention for a few minutes now.

‘I’m sorry, I haven’t notice you there’ she blushed.

‘Thinking about tomorrow, my lady?’ his voice sounded almost mocking. She then noticed his lustful gaze boring into her ripped bodice. Wrapping herself tighter in a black and red cloak, she stared back at him, the Targaryen house colours giving her more confidence than she ever had before.

‘Yes’, she replied curtly. ‘I am excited to marry Daemon’ she emphasised his name.

‘I could tell’ he looked down at her, taking one step closer, making her even more uncomfortable. ‘My Lady should know that if she ever finds herself trapped in… an unpleasant situation’ he chose the words carefully ‘she can always come to me’ he took her hand and placed a kiss on her knuckles.

‘I will’ she pulled her hand and hurried away. He was planning something; she was sure of it. She will have to tell her father and Daemon. But this will have to wait until tomorrow. Tonight she will be preparing for her big day.

[80s4life]

No Time For ‘What If’s?’*

Word Count: 5,096

Status: Requested!

Ask: can I get a SFW/NSFW whatever. Cobra Kai John Kreese x f! reader student (who's 20+ and not in highschool) who sometimes looks at him a certain way but always looks depressed and Kreese took notice... {There's more, but I'm not giving away all the goodies}

@: @harlequinautumn​

Summary: I decided to make this somewhat of a song inspired prompt. This is based off of the song "Daddy Issues" by The Neighborhood. I think you can see where this us going...

Warnings: some angst, fluff, smut, dd/lg type of energy, age-gap, master/sensei/daddy kink, teacher/student kink, READER is in her 20′s, self-consciousness, self-hate, uncomfortable with body issues, appearance, etc.

Masterlist Karate Kid Masterlist Cobra Kai Masterlist

{Gifs are not mine, credits go to @sensei-venus & @danlarussc​}

Had to put this last gif here because GRAND DADDY...

Scribbling in the notebook, you try to hide the blush on your face with the final thought you write into it. ‘He touched my arm during practice to help me keep my balance. His hand was warm and comforting, yet strong and held the promise of security,’ you smile. It’s childish, you know that, but unlike most of the kids in Reseda, Kreese, or better known as Master Kreese in your diary, was a man. He held a great promise with his status and a stern maturity in his movements and emotions. 

What’s more, he can manage to keep it in his pants, to both your comfort and frustration.

You look up, feeling his eyes on you and your smile instantly drops into a numb pout. You’ve loved him for as long as you could remember. It wasn’t your fault however, as it was never planned. 

He was your Sensei in the beginning, knowledgeable and strong, stoic with knowledge. Somehow, you’d find as the more time you’d spent in his class and in the higher rankings, you grew tired of his teachings and more interested in him as a person. He kept his personal life private and away from public eyes - most certainly the cool teacher you could sneak into a bar or eat at a fast food restaurant with just to hang out. Soon your innocent interest had faded into something carnal, sinful. There was nothing you could do to stop the mind of a young adult, much less one that still held the feelings of her teenage years.

He made you feel like that little 15 year old girl every time he looked at you, unable to see his feelings through any aspect of his body. You could never tell if he was scrutinizing you or just plainly looking. 

“Break’s over guys. Back to the mats!” he commands, eyes sliding from yours to encase the room through a tactical sweep.

Clasping the tiny lock through its metal bearing, you lock your diary with a click and shove it into your drawstring back, hurriedly shuffling back onto the mats to endure your next beating.

After about an hour of endless training without any breaks, Kreese glanced at the watch embracing his veined, muscular wrist, checking the time. Without a word, the class is ordered to do another set of push-ups before he calls it a day. 

Huffing, you grab your tiny towel and lay it across your shoulders, using one of the ends to dab at your forehead. The boys pat you on your back as they start to gather their things, some heading to the showers to wash up quickly, others complaining about the homework they haven’t gotten to yet.

“God am I glad I don’t have to do that shit anymore,” you murmur, giggling as you could hear Tommy groan.

“Can I give you a call later, Y/N? Help me go over my essay for Mr. Whees?” Johnny asks, breathy and miserable.

“Sure Johnny Boy, but you’ll owe me an ice cream cone next time we head to the beach.”

“Sweet! Deal!” he punches your shoulder, speeding out of the dojo to get a headstart on finishing said writing that’s due tomorrow morning.

Giggling, you wave your goodbyes to some of the other guys as you grab your bag, walking slowly towards the showers, feeling the extent of your workout in your calves and knees. Stopping just short of the room, you peer into Kreese’s office, “Sensei?”

“Y/L/N,” he answers, the rumble of his voice sending shivers down your spine.

“I’m gonna head to the showers. It’s going to be a while, so if you need me to lock up, I can.”

“No, you’re fine, Y/L/N. I’ll be working on some paperwork for a while also.”

“Okay, thanks,” you blush, a small smile spreading on your lips as you slink off of the doorframe and continue your way to the showers. 

In your drunken haze of lust, you had seemed to miss Kreese’s eyes slip to your bag, shiny pink diary having poked through the jagged holes in the old drawstring bag. He couldn’t help his curiosity, having taken notice to your attachment to the small object, always writing, always peering over its covers to see if anyone was watching. It was peculiar, and though he had been caught a few times, your reaction and apparent nervousness is what made him want to know exactly what was in that book.

Hearing as the soft hums of pleasure radiates with the heat of the streaming water, Kreese keeps a close eye on where your book lied, checking to see if any of the boys were left in the dojo. Walking towards the chairs at the front of the dojo - where you had last left your drawstring bag - Kreese closes the blinds of the dojo; the appearance of it being closed a small comfort and reassurance of another day spent and gone. No one else will try to come back in, no one will bother him.

He turns to leave and go back to his office, but his feet won’t carry him. Peering down at the loose drawstring bag, pink book still peeking out of its covers, he debates whether or not he should satiate his curiosity or infiltrate your personal space. Choosing the latter, he pulls the book slowly as to not mess with the bag’s positioning too much.

Walking back to his office, he leaves the door open a crack, the sound of the shower humming prompting him to see what’s been eating at him. What has been making you look so enthralled and sad at the same time. What’s been making you so mysterious. 

Kreese almost doesn’t even want to open the book. He knows everything about his students, but you? You’re a mystery. A chase. He almost doesn’t want the high of the cat and mouse game to end. However, he just rolls his shoulders, prying the key to the lock from the bindings you had not-so-subtly tried to hide.

‘Silly Girl. So mature yet so naive,’ he thinks, unlocking the small metal that kept him from his answers.

Leaning back in his chair, he props his feet on his desk, opening the book at last. Shuffling through some pages, he comes to find this pink book as your diary. Delving deeper, he flips through some random pages, the headers and dates catching his eyes and honing in.

January 21st: The Reckoning

This date isn’t far different from any other day, just a date. However, the header is what piques his interest.

‘Another day at the dojo. Another array of cuts and bruises. Johnny and the boys are just finishing their first year as freshmen in highschool and I’m stuck here. 22, young, single, graduated, andddd no life plan ahead of me. I realized that my interest in Sensei Kreese is starting to feel different. I no longer want to know about him, I want to know everything. What type of coffee he likes, if he even likes coffee, what he does in his freetime, what does he like most in a partner? Ugh.’

January 22nd: The Realization

‘Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT! Rereading what I was feeling yesterday and watching it bloom tenfold has finally made me come to my senses. 8 years of practicing with this man and I finally catch whiff of what my so-called “interest” was and I finally come to my senses now? “Stupid Girl” as Kreese would say. Stupid Girl is right!’

A bemused smile perches on Kreese’s lips. It’s like high school all over again, and he’s the center focus. He flips a few pages more.

February 3: Valentines Sluts

‘February has just came around and so has my birthday. However, I keep seeming to find myself going into a Valentines craze. Almost as bad as high school. I stared at Master Kreese for a while during break today (thank God we got one). He was wearing his signature black gi with yellow accents, his arms string with veins of hard labor drawn into them. His hair was a bit scruffier and his eyes were a tired blue. God, how I could get lost in them. My eyes trailed down a bit though. Sorry...not sorry. I used an excuse that I rolled my ankle and needed to rest for a bit, but I only ended up watching him. How he helped the boys stretch and train. He worked so hard that his skin turn a light shade of red, sweat droplets sliding down his forehead to his cheekbones, jaw, down his neck, on his collar bones, and sadly, disappeared down his shirt. Oh what I would give to be that droplet of sweat. Almost as exciting as it would be if I could get him that riled up. Happy almost Valentines Day *winky face with heart eyes drawn on the side of page*’

Kreese lets out a low whistle, chuckling a bit. Suddenly, things were getting steamy. He’s a bit surprised by your diary; such a pristine, put together, grown woman, and here you are, displaying your thoughts like a horny teenager. 

Skipping through more dates, Kreese finds more and more sinful readings, something small turning much greater. However, there were undertones of regret, sadness, and...lack of self worth. Not only have the thoughts gotten increasingly dirtier, but they also grew more insecure and sad. And, as the dates grew closer to present day, it seemed that all confidence and harmless thinking were starting to take a toll. You were no longer happy with yourself, however, you kept writing all your fantasies as if they would make you feel any better.

Finally, Kreese nears the end of your diary. 

Today: Confusion

‘Again, I found myself staring at him. Again, I snuck away to write about him not even 10 feet away. And, again, I find myself no closer and so much farther away from the man I thought I was getting to know. I’m 25 now and still have the mental and physical strength of the lowly 14 year old that met him in high school. I’m starting to fear I will never get to tell him how I feel. Never get to live and explore. Never be enough for him. I almost got caught writing about him today and I couldn’t care less. If anything,  maybe it would be a gateway to romance? Those hot scenarios I’ve built up, gotten off to, and scribbled down in these old pagers. But, those are all just more scenarios and fantasies never lived. Maybe it’s time to move on.’

You go on to think of your past, future, and present, and how any of it was either worth or waste of time. He wants to keep reading - wants to delve deep into your wondrous mind.

He didn’t hear the shower stop, too caught up in the insecurity you call yourself.

“Sensei?” your light voice calls out, hair damp and pinned in a clip. Rugged jeans with rips, converse, and a white cropped tee with black sleeves adorning your delicate features. Your brows are furrowed, a mixture of confusion, loss, and fear flashing in your E/C orbs; rounded by the initial surprise and emotions that cross you in such an unexpected predicament. “W-What are you doing?”

For a moment, Kreese just sits, book still open with the presence of his thumb on the page he’s left off on. He’s silent, studying you as he recounts all that he’s read from your book and more. “Reading your diary,” he states plainly, obviously. Truthfully.

You crumble on the spot, wanting to dig a hole and die in it. “Where’d you find it? Wait - How’d you unlock it?” you all but screech, going straight for your bag. 

Kreese slings out of his chair and around his desk instantly, catching your wrist in the middle of the dojo. 

“What are you doing, Sensei? Can’t you see I’m already embarrassed enough? You’re just making it worse-”

“Is all of this true?” he asks, holding the book up, now closed. His thub no longer holding his place. ‘Shit,’ he thinks, shaking his head.

“It’s a diary, isn’t it?” you try to lighten the mood, scratching the back of your neck and nodding to the front cover plainly stating, ‘DIARY’.

“Yes, but everything inside?”

“Every page, every day, for the past 8 years.” You figure it’s time to come clean, no matter the consequences. This has gone on for long enough, and by the looks of it, he’s not too mad at you. Or happy, or sad. In fact, now that you look at it, he looks as if he feels nothing.

You take a step back, your hand limply being allowed out of its hold, and briskly walk for your bag. Just as you go to walk for the door this time, the same warm, calloused hand wraps itself around your much tinier wrist, yanking you back the other direction. “Sensei, please,” you beg, “Just let me go home! I’ll never bother you again, and you can forget all about this ordeal. It’s really not that big of a deal!”

Pulling you through to his office, he turns and locks the door with a key. To ensure your inability to get out, he takes the key and places it in his front jean pocket and sits down on his side of the desk. Motioning for you to follow his lead, you just stand there.

Almost annoyed, he states, “Well, I’m not going to tell you again,” pointing to the chair opposite him.

Eyes rounded, you stare blankly from his face to the chair and back again. ‘Is he serious?’

Sitting down, you watch in horror as Kreese opens the book back up again, finding a specific page in your novelty of recountments. “Ah, here it is,” he chuckles.

Reading the page out loud, he starts with the header:

“June 11th: Midnight Blues

‘I took some time alone today. It seems everyday is getting harder and harder. Not only am I trying to finish my senior year, but I’m trying to find my way - my path. Sitting on the hood of my car, somewhere tucked behind the Hollywood sign (my hiding spot), I looked up and watched the stars and tried to get my plans in order. 

Mom wants me to go to college in Charleston, SC with her, but Dad wants me to stay somewhere close and doesn’t care if I go to college or not. Mom’s got family down South, Dad has just me. Both are choices I don’t want to make; I don’t want to hurt either or’s feelings.

Then there’s Kreese. God how I love him. If I were to choose to leave or which parent, it would be a choice solely on where he will be or how he feels. But, then again, what does he feel? I mean, he would never look at a little girl like me. It’s disgusting, though I’m legal, and a big inconvenience. A little girl following a man who has seen all parts of the world with her tail wagging and eyes bugging out of her head at the sight of him. He’s grown, experienced, and independent. He would look for someone way older than me for sure. It’s only right, given they would share similar aspects to him. 

No one ever looks at me. And neither will he.’”

“Ring a bell?” he asks, finishing off the page.

“It was the end of senior year and there was a whole ton of shit going on. I don’t remember much, i-it was 4 years ago. All I remember was being diagnosed with severe anxiety and depression sometime afterwards. Though, if I can add to that, I’d had it for years, but neither mom nor dad wanted to get me examined since I was 14. It was a shitshow that summer.”

“Do you really think such heinous things of yourself?” he asks, brows furrowing as he stands, looping around the desk slowly as he assesses you.

“Yes. There’s always been that little voice in the back of my head...” you trail off, fingers interlocking and fiddling to try and ease said stress, eyes locking with his in a trance. 

“Where do you get that shit from?” he almost snarls, making you bow your head in shame. “Ah. Ah. I want to see those pretty eyes.”

“Why’s you read that page to me?”

“I wanted you to feel exactly as you felt then and try to sum up your thoughts and emotions. You see, I study you, and now, I’ve read you. Those feelings were never resolved...Why do you hate yourself so much, Babygirl?”

“I-I.” you stutter, trying to form some sort of answer. “I’ve never sought the validation I’ve needed.”

“And, why not?” he asks, arms splayed behind him and hands propping him up as he leans on his desk before you. Staring down at you.

“Because the only person I’ve ever needed validation from was you.” This time, you stand to meet his level, “I’ve never cared for what my parents thought because they only cared to one-up each other with me as their weapon. I never sought the validation of teachers because they only said what would get them more money in the end - once again, using me. I never sought validation from the girls or the guys at school because I’ve always been the odd one out. The only person I’ve ever sought validation from was you. You because you treated me as equal with the rest of the boys. You saw something in me that made me feel like I shined like a brand new corvette. So, you tell me: why have you always done that, knowing damn well I could’ve gone without it?” You got so close to him that you hadn’t realized the inches between you two, breath heavy with the long-held exasperation. 

“That,” he points at you, “That fire. You’ve always had it. You shined through everyone else and paved your own way without making any noise, or causing any destruction. You’re a strong, beautiful force that somehow has managed to fall over and over again, yet always got back up and never sought anyone’s help.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you’ve finally heard what you’ve always waited for. He’s watched you all along, guided you. He’s ensured your safety since he had met you - 14 years old, scared, weak, and hopeless. You thought you’d never get out of that shithole you were stuck in, but you had Kreese.

Sniffling you couldn’t help your actions, hand grasping his black T-shirt and pulling him in. Your other hand goes for his cheek, cupping it and pulling him down to your height. Slowly, you allow yourself the reprieve of almost a decade with this man, lips just hardly touching each other. You’re waiting - waiting for him to turn his back and pull away, but it doesn’t come. 

His huge hands grasp your waist to pull you in close, one hand leaving your hip to brace the back of your head, connecting his lips to yours. He pulls you as close as he can, your body getting up to straddle him on his desk, his arms crushing you chest to chest.

Your tears mix in to your kiss, the salty droplets of water mixing with the dancing of your tongues and you feel him squeeze. You grab at his shoulder, neck, chest, and soon grasp the hairs at the nape of his neck tenderly; starved for the attention and connection you’ve wished for ever since your teenage years.

He happily obliges, his own hand tangling in your hair at the base of your head and yanking it back - not hard, but strong enough to make you gasp at the excitement, sudden movement, and slight pain it had caused. His lips are on your neck now, suckling and licking at the coloumn of it, growling like a crazed animal about to eat its next meal.

You moan out, the action causing you to gasp again, eyes wide and mortified.

You can feel his cheshire grin on your neck, suckling a huge hickey into your collar bone with pride. Pulling back, he takes a good look at you, breathless, chest bouncing at the force of it, straddling his hips with your slimmer, toned ones - both from young age and practicing in the dojo. 

His hands move from you head and back down to lay on your hips, “Tell me how you want me to take you. Or should I look at one of your excerpts? Hm?” he teases, hazely green eyes turning to dark, mossy embers.

“I’m sure you’ve read enough,” you tease back, breathing out with defeat and humor.

“I can think of something,” he assures.

Standing up, his hands supporting your weight by your thighs, he loops around the desk, placing you to sit on it. Slowly, he traces your thighs, then your hips, waist, outline of your breasts, collar bone to your arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Your eyes are glued to him, his arm slipping from your hand back up to the sleeves of your T-shirt, tugging at them, signaling for you to lift your arms.

He pulls your shirt off slowly, tantalizingly, taunting you as it is lifted over your head and thrown to the floor. He sucks in a breath, the sight of you leaving him silent. No words were spoken, but his lips were on your once more, forcefully taking you in like it’s his last time. ‘Impossible.’

Unbuttoning your jeans, he helps you off the desk to shimmy out of them, pulling you close to him once they’re thrown somewhere, too. He kisses in between your thighs, one for each, going to trace up your stomach. You stop him. 

Looking at him with uncertainty, you’re hit with embarrassment and uncertainty.

“What’s wrong, Sweetheart?”

“It’s not you... I-It’s me.”

Deeply, he searches your eyes, already knowing the answer but searching for the confirmation. Sighing, he places a knuckle under your chin, lifting it so your eyes meet his. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, you’re gorgeous, Baby Girl.”

You still look at him hesitantly, which causes him to sigh again.

“Let me show you what I see,” he smirks, a softness in his eyes that tells you there’s nothing to be scared of. Just as he had throughout your highschool years: the drama, bullying, home life, and all.

You nod, hands grasping both sides of his face and pulling him in, kissing him sweetly. He whimpers a little bit, hoping you wouldn’t catch it, but you did. It ignites a fire deep within your gut.

He teases you, a finger sliding your underwear over to the side, fingers playing with your clit. You suck in a deep breath, back arching as you support your weight behind you, on your hands. His hands lays on your sternum, pushing you down further until your resting on your elbows.

Refusing to be pulled down, you sit back up, allowing him to play with you while you attempt to lift his shirt above his head, shakily. He watches you with amused eyes, liking the struggle your body portrays under the heat of his pleasure. He allows you to fumble around a bit more before he helps you out, lifting the bottom of his shirt and taking it off over his head. Hands going back to what they were doing prior.

Your eyes are glued to him, drinking him in as the fire burns brighter and hotter within your core. Greedily, you go for his belt, able to take it off with want and newfound strength as you grow more impatient.

You can hear him chuckle under his breath, pressing you back down by the sternum again, helping finish your goal. He removes the belt with one hand, pulling you off the desk and forcing you to face it. Taking the belt, he ties it around your wrists, tucking it into a drawer like a leash, too thick and sturdy to be able to pull it back out. 

Whining, you look at him over your shoulder, begging him with your eyes.

“You’ve been a bad girl. Good girls don't get tied if they do as they’re told. You keep moving without permission, so I had to limit you. Now. If you use your words, you’ll get what you want.”

You moan in frustration, head spinning back to lay against the desk, arching your back and attempting to wiggle your ass against his crotch. But, to your disapproval, he takes a step back, watching you squirm.

You groan again, giving in, “Please, just fuck me.”

“Your wish is my command.”

Pulling your panties down to your ankles, Kreese teases and taunts you with a finger, sliding it through your folds and occasionally at your entrance, but as quickly as the finger is there, it’s off and somewhere else less needy. 

“Goddammit! Fuck me, please!!” you grit out, growing antzy and frustrated with your head laid against the hardwood. If you weren’t tied down to the fucking desk, you’d take matters into your own hands by now.

He yanks your hair by the back of your head, pulling you up, the back of your head against his shoulder. His mouth nips your earlobe, whispering, “I’d watch your tone if you want me to give you what you want.”

“Yes, Master,” you grit out, smiling as you feel his whole body grow still.

Letting go of your hair instantly, his pushes your head down into the desk, taking his member in one hand as the other makes sure you are fully prepared. Without warning, he plunges in about halfway, giving you time to adjust, although surprised by the intrusion. 

You groan loudly, your voice echoing off the desk with force. You can feel him shake with pleasure within you, a loud, breathy moan releasing from his lips. Nodding your head weakly, he starts to set a pace within you, making sure he’s arched enough to tease your G-spot. 

You moan again, hands clutching the vice he’s got you trapped in. “Say it again,” he yells, starting to thrust deeper, the pleasure building.

He’s starting to go off the edge quickly, but you can’t let him. Not yet. “Untie me first,” you order plainly, refusing to give him what he wants just yet. “It’s my turn.”

He shuckles with a little annoyance, but otherwise pulls out, slightly shoving you out of the way so he can quickly untie the belt. Because of the force he’d given you at a simple command, you decide to give him just as much of a hard time. 

Once untied, you turn to face him, a sultry smile on your face, a devilish look in your eye. Using the same force he had applied, you shove him into his desk chair, forcing him to sit when the chair hits the back of his knees. Slowly, you go to straddle his hips, your raises above him, teasing him. 

“Masters aren’t supposed to be so mean if they are promised to get what they want, are they?”

“N-No,” he stutters, the change in demeanor so delicious to soak in. You have him wrapped around your little finger.

“’No’, what?”

“No, Ma’am.”

“Good enough,” you giggle, grinding down into him, bottoming out inside of you.

He whimpers out again, the sound music to your ears. Slowly you set a pace, his hands coming down to grasp your hips and help you grind in perfect tandem. Together, you bounce, while he charges up to meet you, slowly grinding you forward and backwards a bit, too. The motion makes you gasp, the perfect mixture of friction and being full of him. You moan out, your hands laying on top of his tightly as you feel the edge creeping slowly.

“Call me again,” he groans out, head leaning back onto the headrest of the chair. 

“Look me in the eyes.”

Doing as you asked, he looks at you fully, a bit of heat rising to the surface and making him a tint of red from the chest up. A sheen of sweat covers the both of you, making you both shine in the dim lighting of the room. “Master.”

His head throws back into the shair again, his thrusts intensifying in speed and force. You whine out, grabbing his biceps now, nails digging. “Master, make me finish. Please.”

His hands dig into your hips, forcing your body down as he charges faster, the chair squeaking. Your moans get louder and louder, more frequent with the force applies. “I-I’m gonna cum,” you warn, too close to wait for permission.

Just as you feel the tight knot snap, you’re filled with his warm seed, one hand moving from your hip to yank your hair again, his lips capturing the colum of your neck as he bites down, a deep growl releasing as he fills your with his potential kids.

You ride your high until there’s nothing left, jumping at the overstimulation or any contact at all. Finally releasing his hold, his hands lay on your thighs as yours rest on his shoulders, catching your breath. 

You giggle, opening your eyes after a moment to look at him. You kiss his lips sweetly, a grin on his face as well as he admires you. “I love you, Kreese. Always have.”

He chuckles as he tucks your head in the crook of his neck, hands rubbing your back, fingers playing with the clasp of your bra. “I love you, too, Y/L/N.”

“Y/N.”

“John.”

“John,” you mimic.

“Y/N,” he copies, chuckling as he plays with your hair.

“’February 14th: Valentines Day’,” Kreese recounts the page he had engraved in his head. That was one of your dirtiest of fantasies.

You gasp, swatting his shoulder as your cheeks burn with the reminder, “You Devil!”

May 28th: When Two Hearts Intertwined.

[postapocalyptic-cryptic]

Newt Geiszler NSFT Alphabet

A set of NSFT headcanons for Newt based on @the-coldest-goodbye's list! Written with @suborbitalrailgun looking over my shoulder and helping.

Notes: No trigger warnings, Newt is FTM trans, some Newt/Hermann details

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

After sex, Newt gets kind of hyper. He’s all fired up now and he wants to do something, not sit around and cuddle Usually, this means that he either gets up and does some aftercare stuff for Hermann like getting him food and water and something to clean himself up with, but it also means he brings a book or his phone to bed after so that he can cuddle Hermann without losing his mind with boredom

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Newt’s favorite part of his own body is his arms. They’re pretty well-muscled from working with heavy kaiju specimens, and of course there are the tattoos. He thinks the bracelets make his forearms look even better. His favorite part of Hermann’s body, besides everything, is his face. He just really loves looking at Hermann’s face.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Newt is one of those lucky transmasculine souls who was blessed by the testosterone gods with a hair trigger and a lot of stamina. It’s not unusual for him to come three or four times in a session, and Hermann is very jealous. That being said, he doesn’t get super wet, so lube is absolutely a must when it comes to penetration. You win some, you lose some, you know?

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He has, on at least one occasion, masturbated in the lab while Hermann was in there. Hermann didn’t know. Yes, Newt finished. E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) Newt tends to be one of those people who people like for one night stands. He’s cute and he’s got a lot of personality, but people find him annoying or too much after a few days, so he’s got a lot of experience with one-offs and short relationships. He was also kind of dedicated to Hermann by about year three of the letters, so that stuff tapered off. The apocalypse and subsequent containment to the Shatterdome didn’t help. All that being said, he has a decent amount of experience, but he’s not super talented at sex itself. He knows some generic things that work for everyone, but he hasn’t really spent a lot of time thinking about how he likes to have sex.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

When he’s topping, Newt likes doggy style. He wants to minimize the awkward eye contact and find a good angle and all that. When he’s bottoming, he prefers to be on his side. Something about that angle just really does it for him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Oh, he’s absolutely goofy before, during, and after. If you can’t tolerate a little laughter during sex, you’re not going to enjoy sex with Newt. He’s also going to listen to his music if he’s given the chance, so you might end up with some deeply unserious songs.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Newt generally doesn’t care about how he looks downstairs. If he’s going out or planning on having sex, he’ll trim everything a little bit, but he’s not a big shaving guy. Whatever happens down there happens.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It depends entirely on the person! He can be really lovey and sweet, but usually he likes a light and/or sexy mood more than a serious or romantic one.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

This guy jacks off all the time. I’m serious. It’s not quite a daily thing, but it’s close. The apocalypse is nigh and he’s stressed, okay? Also, if you’ve never been on testosterone you don’t understand the urge to jack off like a transmasc on testosterone does

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Exhibitionism (see above dirty secret) Electrostimulation Masochism Restraints Spit (being spit on, etc.) Biting and being bitten

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Club bathrooms The lab (in his dreams) Bedroom

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Hermann Weed Being told off (by Hermann)

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that could be seriously unsafe in a chemical way. He won’t fuck on his side of the lab. He knows too much about biology to fuck around with that Specific kinds of dirty talk Humiliation, being called annoying even in a joking way

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He likes giving it but he’s not necessarily good at it. Once he and Hermann are together for a while, he gets good through practice, though He does like receiving, and he’s likely to grab hair and push and all that.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast and rough, whether he’s giving or receiving. With him and Hermann, this is sometimes an issue, because Hermann has a hard time taking or giving that kind of force, but they work around it. Possibly, Newt builds some shit to work around it.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Newt is a quickie enthusiast because it lends itself to exhibitionism AND his short attention span. Make it feel good and get it over with. He’s not one for drawing things out.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Yeah! Especially when he’s first together with Hermann, they do a lot of experimenting.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

As mentioned before, he has great stamina in terms of how many times he can come, but less so when it comes to how long he actually wants to go for. Especially when he’s topping, he goes too fast and wears himself out quickly.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He has a pretty good collection of toys, some of which he’s made himself. They make solo sessions much more enjoyable, and when he and Hermann get together, they definitely see a lot of use

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He wants to tease, but he’s also an attention whore and an impatient little creature so he usually breaks first

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

There have been several noise complaints

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Newt actually doesn’t really like anything to do with his chest or nipples being touched. After top surgery, they’re not very sensitive in a sexual way, and the sensations he does get from them tend to be uncomfortable

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

A pretty nice t dick Size B-ish cups before top surgery A healthy amount of pudge

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Very

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Not for a few hours at least. He’s very wired after sex and probably wants to go do something else immediately afterward