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nightskyfangirl · 1 year ago

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Limp - Umbrella Academy Fanfiction

Summary: Lila Pitts is 16 and training to become an agent. She gets injured and tries to keep the Handler from finding out.

Characters: Lila Pitts, The Handler

A/N: While AO3 is down, I'm reposting some of my fanfictions. This version is not as edited as what I posted to AO3 so sorry for any typos.

It was a mistake. It was stupid and easily avoidable and entirely her own fault.

She had been going over the obstacle course again and her mother was shooting at her again trying to show Lila that mistakes weren’t an option. And Lila was good at it. Her time had improved so much that her first record was laughable. Lila was fast, methodical, and perfect.

Except for this time.

She was in too much of a hurry to make a new personal record and she slipped. She fell from the platform she was on and tried to land on her feet. Instead, she landed wrong. Her ankle popped and pain shot up her leg. Lila started to reach for her ankle and—

The ground beside her exploded as a bullet hit it.

Lila jumped back to her feet. She put most of her weight on her good leg, keeping the other bent. But she was only able to that for a second before she had to move.

She ran across the next obstacle, trying to ignore the pain in her ankle. But it was all she could focus on. She was slow, sloppy, and by the time she reached the end of the course, she could feel her mother’s disappointment as strong as her own.

She turned around as her mother dropped her gun. The Handler took a look at the stopwatch. Whatever she saw, she didn’t like. She shook her head and, without even a glance at Lila, turned and walked away.

Lila bit her lip. She had to follow her mother. They always talked about ways Lila could improve after a run on the course. But Lila didn’t want to walk, and she definitely didn’t want to disappoint her mother even further by asking for help.

Lila squeezed her eyes shut against the pain and limped after her mother.

The Handler stepped into the office first and Lila followed her into the room. As the Handler took her seat at her oversized desk, Lila walked over to her seat on the opposite side.

She had fought to disguise the limp on the walk through the halls, but it was getting harder. Lila schooled her face the best she could and sat down.

Lila looked at the desk. She let her eyes drift from object to object, stalling the inevitable. A globe, a pencil cup with many different colors of pens, a name plaque, a stack of folders, and yet not enough stuff to avoid her mother. Lila met her mother’s eyes.

“You done?” The Handler asked, tilting her head. Lila thought it would be better if she didn’t respond and the Handler continued. “What was that out there on the course? All that talk of you training and getting faster. I was expecting something more—” The Handler held her hands up in fists then quickly opened them with an explosive gesture, “—groundbreaking. And yet, that is the worst time you’ve shown in months. What was that?”

“I don’t know.”

The Handler raised her eyebrows. “You don’t know?” The Handler stood and made her way around the desk. She crouched down and quickly grabbed Lila’s ankle.

“Ow!” Lila snapped, pulling her ankle away. The Handler looked at Lila like she could see through her. As if she could see the cogs turning in Lila’s head and knew everything about Lila. Under her gaze, Lila felt like a bug pinned to a corkboard.

“Still don’t know?” The Handler asked.

She stood and made her way behind Lila.

Every instinct in Lila screamed for her to move, to not let the Handler out of her sight.

Lila felt the Handler touch her head and begin carding through her hair. It felt nice, relaxing almost.

“The first time you did the course, you didn’t know what you were doing.” The Handler’s voice was calm, soft and Lila hoped that the storm and disappointment had passed. “You were slow.”

Lila remembered her first attempt. She had been so confused, probably only 12 years old at that point. She didn’t understand the point of what she was doing. Back then she hadn’t even known what happened at the Commission. All she knew was that her mother did important work and one day, Lila would too.

But when she saw the obstacle course, she thought it was a weird playground. Lila went up the first obstacle and then the next. Then finally she ran into an obstacle she couldn’t cross. It was too tall and Lila hadn’t been strong enough to pull herself up.

Her mother had walked over, assured Lila that she would one day be able to complete the full course. Lila would become faster, stronger, and eventually be able to join her mother.

The Handler continued, pulling Lila from her thoughts. “But eventually you learned. We added more obstacles, made it harder. Added more incentives for speed. You’ve become incredible. And now it won’t be long before you are out doing missions of your own, participating in the timeline.”

Lila smiled, even though her mother couldn’t see it. The thought of finally being out there, being a commission agent was all Lila ever wanted. Her mother would take her seriously.

“But Lila, darling,” The Handler said, “what you did today will not make me think you’re ready for the job.”

“I know,” Lila said. “I’m sorry—”

The Handler’s grip in Lila’s hair tightened and Lila’s head was pulled back. A startled gasp escaped before Lila could stop it. “Trying and failing to hide injuries will make me think less of your capabilities.”

Lila tried to pull away, but the Handler’s grip only tightened.

“This job is not just about killing strategically. It is about blending in and making sure people don’t remember you. If you walk around like you’re injured, you will get more attention. You get attention, you will be remembered. If you are remembered, you risk the timeline.”

The Handler let go and Lila stood, backing away. Her ankle sent shocks of pain up her leg with every step. There was a lump in her throat that she couldn’t swallow. The Handler gave her ankle a look before shaking her head.

She pointed to the door.

“Out.”

Lila hesitated for only a second. She considered saying something to defend herself and assure her mother that it was a mistake that she wouldn’t make again. But she knew she wouldn’t be able to get a word past before she did something even more embarrassing and cried. She hurried to the door, unable to stop her leg from buckling every few steps.

Once on the outside, Lila stopped and leaned against the wall. She covered her mouth with her hand. She felt the hot tears running down her face, wetting her hand. She couldn’t stop them anymore than she had been able to stop the limp earlier in the office.

She failed. And now, her mother wasn’t just mad at her, she was disappointed. Lila had never disappointed her mother.

Lila tilted her head up, looking at the ceiling. She exhaled in one harsh breath and quickly wiped her face.

Then Lila pushed herself away from the wall and willed herself to walk. She gritted her teeth against the pain. She bent her knees and tried to walk faster. She took another step, then another. It wasn’t getting easier, but Lila pushed through.

She needed boots, something to stop this kind of injury in the future. But her mother was right, she needed to find a way to push through so completely that no one even noticed.

But in the meantime, if anyone noticed the tear tracks running down her face, no one was dumb enough to point it out.

Thanks for reading! Please comment if you enjoyed! :D

#Umbrella Academy #Lila Pitts #Archive of Our Own #TUA #The Handler

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scummy-writes · 1 year ago

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I may be arm chairing a little, but from this post it sounds like you have a harsh inner critic that is not strictly related to canon stuff, but also 'cringe'.

I did the same thing when I was younger. I had composition notebooks filled and filled with handwritten fanfic, the most dramatic love triangles with n*ruto characters and every other hyperfixation under the sun. I just wrote down the various daydreams I had and turned em into stories, like I do now.

Kid me saw folks consistently mocking this way of having fun, calling certain things/tropes 'cringe' and bullying. For a while I was fine, the inner critic was a dick but I was around friends who were having fun with me. When I moved to posting fanfic publicly, it changed a bit. When I got harassed for a year straight and stalked a bit over 'mischaracterization', even when folks were insanely supportive, I let that eat me up instead and it got added to the Harsh Inner Critic voice.

Some things that have helped me is:

-> believing that 'cringe' is dead. An elaboration: stop shaming yourself for having fun. If you are not actively harming anyone or similar, why do you need to shame yourself so much for having fun with writing [in this context] bishie vampire versions of historical folks.

We're doing this as stress relief. As a hobby. For fun! Some of us may be using fanfiction as practice for writing our own novels one day, but the fanfiction is still For Fun. If you continue to shame yourself and let the Inner Critic step on you, you'll hit a point where you won't let yourself write at all, and that hurts more than anything.

-> understand that as you're writing your fanfic, everything sounds poorly written to You, who has built up this fantasy in your head and youre trying to do it justice by writing it out. In your mind, it's never going to compare to the fantasy you imagined.

But to a reader? They never saw that fantasy until they read what you wrote, and they're having a Fuckin Blast reading it. They don't know whats going to happen as they read it, and they're having fun every step of the way, happy to have a new fantasy to think about thanks to YOUR words.

-> canon is good to run with, but is not an end all be all. For this I'm going to sound stupid but like. Bear with me.

In canon, Licht hates carrots (iirc). Hates em, won't eat em. But what if I want to write a fanfic about Mc trying to cook carrots in various ways to get him to eat them? Is that canon compliant? I mean its likely he wouldnt even try anything carrot related, but writing about him trying sifferent methods and maybe liking One version of carrots out of 8 different methods of cooking them doesn't mean he magically likes carrots forever, and I've Broken the Canon Code- it just means I explored the bounds of that part of his character.

And that's how I like to treat canon. A foundation of the character, like the foundation of a house. Sometimes we change the inside of the house, but the overall structure stays the same. Just because we play around with the inside doesn't mean we're destroying the foundation.

But then sometimes we want to imagine we live in a house that feels like home (the character) but we want to paint it a different color- aus! Cyb*rd does this, we get many au events that change some concepts of the character, their backstories, or even who they are! So ... why can't we? Why can't we do aus where they're different but Still Them. Maybe au Isaac isn't isaac newton, man who discovered gravity, but Au isaac is still our Isaac. With pink hair, a nervous personality, a lot of wit, fangs, and having a stutter. Just because the background is different, doesn't mean we can't explore the Idea.

And also!!! Ikev*mp has had implied poly stories before!! So that def excuses you exploring poly with them anyway (not that you needed an excuse, but you can shove that at the inner critic). They even had a story where Arthur and Vlad and. Someone. Grew up in japan in ye old red light district. Slept with people for money. They were so far removed from their normal characters but so many people still had fun exploring that 'what if' with the event. And as fandom, we thrive on exploring those 'what if's, and thats not a bad thing at all.

I feel like none of this makes any sense, I'm sorry. My thoughts and views are hard to explain so I keep trying to use metaphors and its not helping.

All in all...its always easier said than done. I keep these things loosely in mind, but I also... don't surround myself with people who complain about this stuff constantly. Like. In fandoms past, I used to have people consistently having private group messages picking apart fanfics for no damn reason. I was constantly on my toes terrified that I'd lose friendships for writing ideas that were 'cringe' or too 'ooc'. And yaknow? It wasn't fun. At all. Those groups eventually imploded and i was Thankful to get out.

So, I found friends who did not discourage 'what ifs'. I found friends who did not shame me for forgetting small details. I found friends who would gently bonk me on the head when I had anxiety attacks over something not sounding 1000% canon. Who would remind me that it's not the end of the world to mess up a line, or to write a 'shitty' story (because our words are not shitty!!! They are us exploring writing.) Not everything we create will be amazing.

These friends helped me start analyzing the way I think because I wanted to be more like them, and why the harsh inner critic controls me more than I get to control me. And usually by analyzing the roots of that, my emotions with it, it helped me pick apart why I have trouble letting myself have fun.

I read about how some published authors view their works. I read about how authors read past work and maybe feel like it wasn't their best now, but it was the best they could write at the time and they were Proud of their past selves still. I remind myself that perfection is not a requirement when playing with creative outlets.

I wrote character notes not to use as fuel to scold myself with, but because I found the act of digging into what made these characters themselves as Fun. I started trying to treat myself as I would my friends, which is insanely hard for me to do but. Small steps are still progress!

I feel a bit insane typing this all out because I cannot tell if this makes sense, and I am feeling shy. I am going to stop now but I hope maybe some of that helps?

I think I like to consider canon as a brace for headcanons and fun imaginings, but not something that is entirely required.

Canon is great. Its a foundation for many ideas and toying with. But its not an end all be all for Every Little Thing. And I like that. I like exploring what canon does not, i feel like thats what fandom is For.

Its also fun to play with canon and bend it a little. I like not having to restrict myself to being 100% canon and canon only.

#scum talks

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vinnival · 3 years ago

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*breaks into your inbox* DING DONG *clears throat*, so I had an reader insert idea for da madcom main trio boys. Their s/o uses quemical weapons against enemies, like gas bombs and poison bullets (much like Viper from Valorant), how would they react to them? Thx for reading, your writing is absolutely amazing! (sorry abt any english mistakes, it isn't my main language) ~🦉anon

CHEMICAL WEAPONS

yes

Hank

person's just tryna go about their day when bam! Whizz, whizz- two bullets fly by and leave their bandana tail ends whizzing by from the force

So of course they turn around, only to see you; the newest SQ recruit, still keeping an eye through your scope as your bullets pierced the enemies

Now normally they wouldn't care about who your shooting at as long as it isn't himself, but the particularly sharp, pained screams of the enemies piqued his interest, to say the least

You were pulling your head back with a satisfied smirk as Hank look back towards the two agents you shot easily, to see them writing on the ground and scratching at the bullet holes that held the bullets lodged in their body

Yes, poison bullets

They were screaming bloody murder, begging for the Maker to give them mercy, or screeching out how badly it burns

When they look back towards you, you brush past them in a wide berth- you still are cautious of Wimbleton, after all- and personally end their suffering with regular bullets now.

And needless to say, since then...

he was interested.

Ever since then, he tends to fall behind in group missions involving you just to see what weapons and attack methods you use each time

They think your creativity with the poisonous/chemical weapons is very unique, and a lot more creative than San or Dei's simple tactics.

You begin to notice their interest in you! And so you (foolishly) begin to fight relatively alongside Wimbleton. Really, reader? Why would you do that? Smh smh smh

Luckily they find you too interesting to kill so they let you off the hook with beign around them a lot more

There's a lot of unspoken communication between you two

Just uh don't get annoyed when they suddenly grab a weapon from your current inventory for their own usage

(It will happen a lot)

After enough time, you two exchange words here and there, idly chatting about your weapons, or discussing the next possible mission(s) that you two may get from 2B

As long as you don't like, purposefully try to get on their bad side, it's good, you'll be fine

Yknow after enough time they just fuckin realize they've fallen HARD for you, not just your method of kill

And gosh they are so impressed with you in general like. Yes this is another killing machine like me that I Respect. Hank Sticker Of Approval

Deimos

So, like, you know how certain gases n elements n shit can change the color of fire?

Oh yeah

Oh yeah babey

OH HELL YEAH

Teamwork 110%, Dei immediately befriends you, and cannot stop talking about how cool you are

"SO LIKE... how do fireworks happen? I NEED'A know, toots, this is URGENT-"

He will let you rant on n on about chemistry, chemicals, etc

He thinks the way you attack is cool! Especially when the mustard gas is a vibrant pink! Woaw

He like immediately asks you out after you two start going from simple sitting on the couch together to straight up cuddling like wh when did this happen huh whuh ohp

He's just straight up bragging about you like "YES this is my s/o my BELOVED they will KILL YOU with funny liquid"

deimos "have you ever heard of hydrochloric acid" ( he doesn't have a last name )

He so very much supports your fuckery with acids n stuff, and probably would do the obligatory mad scientist cackle when you make a new reaction that you've been researching

(remember kids do not mix chemicals you don't know the reaction of)

(you had to furiously convince dei out of doing this)

Why Do You Have Mercury Oh No

At least you keep it in a safe container and use it for desperate measures

You mightve maybe accidentally probably most likely.... made dissonance once?

You shut that down REAL quick tho dw lol

Needless to say it gave both you and Deimos a heart attack when you two accidentally spilled chemical X into the mixture or something and out poofed some fucking artificial grape juice shit

💀

Sanford

Omg explosives likers 🤝

Needless to say San was definitely flirting with you right off the bat bc of your similar interests

You two work well a lot! I hc that Sanford is basically madcom MacGyver, able to make just about anything into a bomb of some sorts.

So, that, being paired with the chemical nerd you are?

🤝

He's very supportive of you <3 throws compliments whenever you decimate using a flashbang that spewed smoke to temporarily blind for even longer than before!

Plus more of course

Takes a lot of pride in how you know how to stand up for yourself

Not that he would be opposed to saving his joyfriend-in-distress B)

If you have a lab (probably do), he'd sit there with you as you work, and attentively listens as you explain the collision theory to him, how catalysts work, your favorite element in the periodic table, etc., etc..

He's honestly just happy you're so passionate about chemistry to the point of using it in battle; which is extremely unique! He loves it! And loves you <3

HELLO anon. you speak good english

#🦉 anon #this one was fun to write #this one goes out to my pal clownie and his oc chem #love ya! miss ya! /ref #oh boy here we go #madness combat #madness combat x reader #madness combat hank #hank j. wimbleton #madness combat sanford #madness combat deimos #madcom x reader #i think thats good yes

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nano--raptor · 3 years ago

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Hot Stuff

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 578

Warnings: Sparring and training, Gym stuff, Beefy Bucky, Implied smut

A/N: A belated story for @the-ss-horniest-book-club Candy Hearts Club challenge! For Day 5 I used the prompt Hot Stuff for this one, and of course, had to use Beefy Gym Bucky😏 Thank you for reading, and hope you enjoy!

Divider by @firefly-graphics!

My work is NOT to be copied, translated or reposted in ANY way.

18+ ONLY. This post contains mature subject matter. By clicking 'keep reading', you agree that you are 18+. Do not interact with this post if you are under the age of 18.

Sam swung his fist, a good right hook that almost got you, but you managed to sidestep him just in time. The two of you were sparring, trying to work on technique and a few new methods of defense and takedown. You were trying to ignore the grunting coming from the other side of the gym, as Bucky did weight training, but the sounds leaving his mouth were almost sinful, and you were having a hard time focusing on what you were doing.

You swung your own fist in return, which Sam easily ducked, and knocked your legs out from under you. Suddenly you were flat on your back on the mat, with Sam staring down at you, a smirk on his face.

“You seem a bit distracted today, Agent,” he mused, and you groaned and covered your face in response from your position on the floor.

Once you got back to your room, fully intending on taking a cold shower, you saw the package of candy hearts on the counter and smiled. It was a silly little thing, but you’d picked them up at the store earlier, and opened them up to have a few before your shower. Reading the messages gave you a wave of nostalgia, and you weren’t sure if Bucky had had them before, but you set a few aside for him, and ate one more before heading off to the bathroom.

A little while later, Bucky arrived home too, hearing the shower running as he walked into the kitchen. He thought about joining you, a smile spreading on his face, but then the colorful heart-shaped candies on the counter caught his eye. He stepped closer, picking one up to pop into his mouth, when he saw the writing on it and stopped. Hot Stuff. He smiled and ate that one, then noticed the rest all had similar messages. U R Hot. Hottie. So Hot. Hot Guy. Bucky grinned and ate another one, poking through the rest of them just as you walked out of the bathroom.

“Hey Hot Stuff,” you greeted with a grin, and he looked up, his expression settling into something suave and much too sexy for the middle of the day.

“Hey yourself. Are you trying to tell me something here?” Bucky motioned to the candies, before eating another one, still grinning.

“Maybe,” you mused, strolling towards him, plucking one of the candies from the package and popping it into your mouth.

“You think I’m hot, baby?” Bucky’s eyes sparkled, and you smirked at him, nodding as you ate another candy.

“Mm hmm. So hot, babe. So hot that I got distracted and let Sam land a few good ones…”

At that, Bucky winced a little, stepping closer to loop his arm around your waist and pull you towards him.

“Ouch. M’sorry.” You giggled, loving how the rivalry between Sam and Bucky still lived on, both of them teasing each other and not wanting the other to win. Ever. You hummed and leaned against Bucky’s broad chest, trailing your finger up and then dipping beneath the collar of his t-shirt.

“I think I might need you to make it up to me, Hot Stuff.” Bucky grinned suggestively, biting his lip and playing with the edge of your towel.

“I could do that,” he whispered. “Might need another shower afterwards, though. A nice, long, hot shower.” You grinned and reached up to kiss his lips.

“I think I can handle that.”

#hbc candy hearts club #bucky barnes x reader #beefy!bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #beefy bucky x reader

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votederpycausemufins · 4 years ago

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All my knowledge is of hermitcraft and the stuff people have written for the Hermit!Tommy Au but I kept having this idea and needed to write it. I also think i got a bit out of character halfway through because it was supposed to be short, but i vibed with it too much so now it’s long and maybe not 100% accurate but it’s still angst followed by fluff.

also @petrichormeraki wanted me to tag them when i posted this.

Tommy had been with the Hermits for a while now. He hadn’t really kept track of when he first arrived, but it had at least been a few months. Otherwise, time was a mess. The Hermits has all but legally adopted him and all the joy that came from them caring for him made time seem to fly by.

Doc was fun to be around because while Tommy was perfectly fine never going back to the SMP, the way the man acted gave Tommy a small bit of familiarity in a good way to his past life.

He likes hanging out with False, mainly for sparring. Never anything deadly, but even if there wasn’t a need for Tommy to constantly look over his shoulder, it was good to keep from getting too rusty.

He doesn’t really hang out with Zedaph as much as Zedaph hangs out with him. Normally the Hermit would come out of the blue with something new for Tommy to try. Flicking levers over and over for something that would normally be as simple as using a furnace just became fun for Tommy, especially if he had energy pent up.

Xisuma is someone Tommy doesn’t run into much, but the fact that he doesn’t is something Tommy finds comfort in. Even as the server admin, the man is very down to Earth. Nothing like Dream ever was.

And then there’s Grian. Tommy got along with all the Hermits fine and of course there were some he preferred over others, but Grian took the cake for him. When he first showed up, Grian was the one to give him a place to stay at his old hobbit hole. Professor Beaks had been left there and still used to the SMP and scared for his life, Tommy hid the pet bird as leverage for his own safety. When Grian found out, he mostly shrugged it off, but the tens of chickens in the hobbit hole the next day was proof of retaliation.

Tommy didn’t understand the underwhelming response at first, but responded in kind, using the eggs from the chickens Grian had left to egg the Hermit’s base. When the builder nearly broke the door to the hobbit hole, Tommy grabbed his axe, ready to fight for his life, but was taken aback by the cheerful look on Grian’s face.

After that, Grian had practically taken Tommy under his wing. He showed Tommy how to build more effectively with cobble, eventually managing to get the teen to have some variety. Grian also brought Tommy along on his various chaotic endeavors, leaving behind chickens, mycelium, and possibly some missing doors.

The two chaotic red wearing Brits got along so well that they sometimes spent entire weeks together. Because of that, Tommy was all too aware that the Hermits participated in MCC as well.

It made sense. A few of the Hermits vaguely recognised him when he showed up in Hermitcraft and a few of them looked familiar to Tommy. That had made him feel a little safer since now these people weren’t complete strangers, but it did complicate things. Every so often, the portal to MCC would open and the Hermits participating would go through. The closest Tommy would get to the portal was just before the Hermits left, occasionally giving a ‘Good luck Grine!’ or something similar to Grian as he went through. But after that Tommy stayed as far away as he could manage.

The portal there led to MCC. And from there, there was a portal that led to the SMP. If Tommy could get to Hermitcraft, others could too. And that idea was terrifying, no matter who it was. Dream was a worst case scenario, but even if it was Tubbo. Tubbo had exiled him, and even if they were still on good terms after that, Tommy could have visited at some other MCC, but he didn’t, and that idea likely wouldn’t go over well, especially since otherwise, people probably thought he was dead and Tommy didn’t care to correct them.

But compared to all those other times, today was very different. Today Tommy wasn’t at the sidelines to help send off the other Hermits, he was one of the ones being sent off. They had taken every precaution. Mumbo had rebuilt his Spookification chamber for Tommy with some alterations, specifically removing the firework method of alteration. The teen was also dressed for being on a team with Grian as the Cyan Creepers, so his familiar red and white shirt was missing. But under Tommy’s costume, he still kept the chain necklace holding his compass. He refused to part with it, though made sure he would be hard to access to keep from glancing, knowing at the championships, it wouldn’t be spinning wildly anymore.

With a comforting pat on the back from Grian, he and the other Hermits walked through the portal. The crowd of people that were on the side almost immediately overwhelmed Tommy, making him think that it was a bad idea all over again, but the sight of the two other team members for the Cyan Creepers reassured them, especially as they lined up for the cameras for some fun and silly times. Then once the games began, he was too focused on winning to think of much else.

Before long, the championships were over. They had come in fifth, which was a bit disappointing at first, but on the other hand, it was still pretty good and kept the spotlight off of him. When dodgebolt began, Tommy stood next to Grian, but with a crowd of people, a good game, and no perfect place to sit, the both of them wandered for a better vantage point.

At one point, Tommy managed to push his way right up to the edge of the viewing ledge. It was the perfect place for a while until the action moved, causing everyone to decide it was the perfect place. Enough people moved nearby that Tommy was worried about falling into the pit below, and he almost did before someone pulled him back.

Tommy was ready to thank whichever Hermit or even other player helped him but the words died in his throat when he faced the person who grabbed him. He knew that mask and neon green color. And there was no reason for him to help Tommy unless-

“I finally found you!” Dream spoke. He raised his voice to be heard over the crowd, but not too much to draw the attention of others. Tommy froze as he definitely heard the words. But there was no way for Dream to know, he didn’t look at all like normal.

“I-I’m sorry.” Tommy tried not to stutter, hoping just the situation of being grabbed would excuse it. “But I don’t think I’m who you’re looking for. I’m new here. Unless you’re greeting me for being new.” It was something he prepared before in his mind after Grian brought up the possibility, but it felt sloppy putting it to use.

“Oh don’t lie Tommy. I know it’s you. I guess you got lost, but it’s okay, you can come back now. I got rid of the exile for you. Aren’t you glad?”

Tommy was glad for the mask that covered Dream’s face. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see Dream’s actual expression. “How did you-” He started to speak, but Dream cut him off, poking Tommy’s chest, right where the compass was.

“Weren’t you paying attention to the teams? Tubbo got put with me. And between games he just happened to glance at his own compass. And wouldn’t you know it, it led me right here.” Dream held up the compass that belonged to Tubbo. It looked damaged, and it was recent. Tubbo likely didn’t want to give the tyrant admin the compass, but lost it to Dream anyway.

“Give that back to Tubbo!” Tommy shouted at Dream, trying to snatch it from him.

“Feisty now, aren’t you? We can take care of that when you come back. I’ll also give it back to him if you come with me.”

Tommy froze. There was no way he was going back, but what could he do? Everyone was focused on dodgebolt, and he didn’t want his appearance to have caused more trouble for Tubbo.

Tommy glanced at the crowd one last time before reluctantly nodding. Dream grabbed his hand in a painful clench and dragged him out of the crowd towards the SMP’s portal to leave. However, just before reaching it, Dream stopped. Tommy, who had been looking back at the crowd, hoping someone would see what was going on, turned towards the portal to see Grian standing in front of it.

“Heya, where do you think you’re going. MCC isn’t over yet. Dodgebolt it still going on.”

Tommy expected Dream to just push past Grian or even give some sort of retort, but the actual reply was shocking. “Uh, n-no, just… have to head back early. Th-the game delays made things run over. A-and we’ve got to get b-back for… something else. Don’t w-want to be late for that.”

Dream’s words made Tommy so shocked he forgot to breathe. Dream was scared, no he was terrified. And he was terrified… of Grian. Tommy looked back at the Hermit who stood unflinching in front of them.

“Really? I could have sworn that you were here when I arrived, and that kid wasn’t. And he definitely came from a different portal. I know since I was keeping my eye out for my teammates. So why’s he going with you?”

“I uh…” Dream struggled, struggled, to give an answer, letting Grian continue. “That’s what I thought. C’mon kid, let’s go back to the crowd. You can stay with me until it’s over then I’ll help you find your portal back.”

And Grian took Tommy away without any retaliation from Dream. Tommy was left in awe. Grian wasn’t even an admin in Hermitcraft but Dream was terrified of him. It was amazing! But at the same time, it made Tommy spiral a bit.

When everyone returned, Grian had made sure Dream left before the Hermits and Tommy did so Dream couldn’t watch Tommy leave. Tommy stuck to False’s side as they walked through the portal, Grian being the last to come through as he continued to act as a guard. When he tried to comfort Tommy after his run-in with Dream, he understood when the teen responded he just wanted to go home. The championships were exhausting enough without a scare like that.

The next day, Tommy hung out with False. And then Zedaph, and then Doc. Grian noticed immediately, but didn’t pay much mind to it. He noticed since Tommy had spent a full week only hanging out with him, so the sudden absence of the boy was noticeable, but it made sense that he would want to hang out with the others.

After that, Grian didn’t pay too much attention to the lack of Tommy until he ran into him while stocking the barge. Tommy had been buying something at the store when Grian flew in. He nearly dropped his diamonds in trying to leave in such a hurry that it finally concerned Grian. The builder started visiting other Hermits Tommy tended to visit and ask about him. No one really noticed much other than Tommy dodging any questions about him possibly going to hang out with Grian.

Grian decided to leave it alone, and he was definitely going to, but after another run in with Tommy, he threw that decision out the window. Grian normally wouldn’t have done this, but after trying multiple times to just talk to Tommy and being unsuccessful, the builder had to essentially corner the teen.

Immediately, Grian regretted it. Tommy was trembling, obviously scared, holding a sword in his hand. He carefully tried to point out that Tommy didn’t need to have his sword out, but instead of just putting it away, Tommy just threw it on the ground, also throwing down his other gear. Grian had heard of Tommy doing this before with the other Hermits, so he immediately recognised what was going on and dived to grab the gear. It scared Tommy more, but Grian wanted to make sure nothing ended up destroyed.

“Tommy, calm down, I just want to talk. Did I do something wrong? I mean, obviously I must have, you look scared out of your mind every time I’m around you. But I can’t think or anything I did and I don’t want this to keep happening. So can I know what’s going on?”

Tommy didn’t speak for a while. He just looked defeated and terrified. Grian called in some of the other Hermits to come help Tommy calm down, though at first it didn’t help. But over time, Tommy finally did stop looking so terrified and they moved to somewhere he would feel less cornered. It took more coaxing after that, but finally, Tommy explained himself.

“He’s scared of you. Dream is… actually scared of you.”

“Yeah, I’ve killed him once or twice. Plus my full name is Lord Grian Dreamslayer, so it’s kind of in the name.” The builder tried to say it as a joke, but it didn’t seem to lighten the mood.”

“He’s the admin and he’s scared of you. And you… I’ve been hanging out with you.”

Grian nodded. “Well yeah, we do fit together well. ...Did he say something at MCC to make you think I didn’t like you?”

Tommy shook his head. “N-No. You’re right, you’re fun to be around. But dream likes… liked messing with me. And tried to train me. And I hang out with you more than I had with him, and I’m more like you. I-If you’re somehow more powerful than him-!” The rest of the words stopped in Tommy’s throat, choking him up. Stress was nearby and gave Tommy a careful hug for comfort, which helped him a little.

Grian waited a little bit for the tension to calm slightly before he spoke. “I don’t know exactly what Dream has done to you. You’ve told us a lot, but you obviously haven’t told us everything, and telling us isn’t the same as experiencing it. But let me tell you that I’m not going to do what he’s done to you. I remember how you were the first day we found you. And I see how you are now- well, how you were a few weeks ago- and I’m happy. Happy because you’ve been happy. You’ve been safe and cared for here and it shows. I don’t want to force you to be anything, I want you to be you. Sure, I’m powerful enough to kill Dream, but I’m not going to use that power on you. I’m only going to use it around you if it’s to keep him away from you.

“And! And! It’s just because of how your server is. Here we can go to the end. We don’t have a set amount of lives. We build massive structures and sell totems for a single diamond each. We fight Withers for fun and make farms with them. We farm just about anything you can think of. And Tommy.” Grian paused, making sure Tommy was paying attention. “You may be from somewhere far off that none of us old Hermits have seen, but now you’re here. And new home or not, that makes you a Hermit too. Sure you can be like me. Or you can be like False or Doc or Scar or Mumbo. But so far, you’ve been pretty you. And that you is a Hermit.”

Tommy took a few moments to process it, but the message seemed to get through to him. With that, Grian stood up with a smile. “Now I get that you probably don’t want to hang around me much right now. It makes sense. Maybe hang out with some other Hermits and learn some new stuff to get your mind off of things. Plus, I also did some talking around looking for you, and got you this.”

Tommy’s eyes practically sparkled as Grian placed down some music discs. He greedily grabbed the treasures and stuffed them in his inventory, looking up just to see Grian flying off. Taking on Grian’s idea, Tommy decided to go with Cleo and try to wrap his head around those armor stands again. While he wasn’t a pro, he did manage to make one scene of the hermits all holding weapons and surrounding an armor stand in lime leather armor. Grian was right. He was a Hermit. And he wasn’t going back. At least, not permanently, he thought, clutching his compass. Maybe, there would even be another Hermit like him.

#hermit!tommy au #hermitcraft #hermitblr #dreamsmp #tommyinnit #grian #mcc #docm77 #falsesymmetry #zedaph #xisuma #dreamwastaken #stressmonster101 #angst and fluff #still not a fan of how dream's persona eminates someone... problematic

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harrywritingsbyme · 5 years ago

Text

Branding

Based Off Of This Ask

And This One

This One Too

A/N: So like, I started writing something, but it went to shit so I put it to the side and started on this lil blurb bc I love this concept. It’s hot and stuff with a crappy ending...enjoy🙃

To put it simply, Harry was obsessed with branding you. Whenever he saw you, he wanted to see some type of indication that you were his. He absolutely loved displaying that you were his, not just to everyone around you both, but to himself as well. Yes he was incredibly secure in his relationship with you, and yes he fully recognized and acknowledged that you were your own person. It’s just that Harry couldn’t shake this urge fueled by his possessiveness to brand you. And it didn’t help that you were easily and fully on board with it. You were also very subby which meant that you were always trying to please daddy which meant that you were going to do anything to please daddy, especially if it meant him branding you as his. What was also very unhelpful to the situation was that you carrying around little marks of him was a major turn on. And as a result of branding you as his being such a turn on, Harry was very creative with his methods of branding.

One of his all time favorite methods for branding you would be from the inside. Harry would never get tired of pushing his cock between your delectable walls and fucking into you all the way up to his release. Of course he’d focus in on your pleasure and making sure you fall apart beneath (or above depending on whether or not you were feeling a bit frisky) him. But whenever he got closer and closer to his release an influx of thoughts on where he’d mark you with his cum went through his mind. There were four main spots that never failed to cross his mind in those moments; inside of you and all the way up into your tummy so that you can be filled to the brim with his warm cum, all over your abdomen and thighs or your backside depending on what position he was taking you in so that you can be covered in his sticky cum, all over your face so that he can really make a mess of you, and finally your mouth so that he can watch you swallow every last drop of him. Sometimes he’d venture out into the last three options, but for the most part, Harry stuck to filling you up with his cum. He just couldn’t get enough of filling you all the way up and making the area between your legs a sticky mess. To him, your pussy looked even prettier than it already is when it was dripping and stained with his cum. And on top of that you looked absolutely adorable when you were trying to walk (more like waddle)around trying to keep his cum from pouring down your thighs. This was hands down his favorite way to leave his mark on you.

Another easy and great way Harry’d go about marking you was through your skin. Whenever the two of you would go at it, he’d always make sure to to turn his HS rings inside so that whenever he gripped onto your flesh, he’d leave an indentation of his initials in your skin. He absolutely loved doing this to you. He’d latch onto your thighs, your backside, your throat, your breasts, and any other area of your body. Whenever you were on your back below him and were nearing your release, Harry’d always push his palm down into your lower stomach to intensify your already rumbling release. Not only would this send you into a frenzy, but it would also leave an indentation of his initials right on your stomach which was absolutely perfect to him since he also had a pretty strong breeding kink. He loved doing this so much that he was extremely tempted to go out and buy himself a second set of those rings so that he could leave double the usual amount of his initials all over you. Besides his rings, Harry also loved going down the route of the classic hickey. Since you bruised easily for the most part, Harry was able to suck the marks into your skin and have them all visible in minuets. Along with marking you up, Harry enjoyed the little game that came along with leaving hicks on you at times. Since he’d leave them mainly around your neck and chest area, you’d always go into a frenzy trying to cover them up if you were supposed to be going out after you guys’ rendevouzs. To which he’d sit back with a smug smirk on his face as he watches you rush to try and cover them. He’d also use the rings in your punishments. If you were being a bad girl, Harry would take you right over his knee hand give your backside a couple firm swats with his initialed rings going in towards his palm. After delivering those swats to your backside, He’d then proceed to massage the warm and stinging flesh while keeping the rings turned inwards to really press those initials into your skin.

Now aside from using his body and rings to mark you, Harry liked to use other accessories to mark you as well.

For starters, you and Harry were obsessed with anal plugs. You had a jeweled plug in just about every color and jewel shape, you had just about every color of the the plugs with the cute little bells on them, and you had just about every color of the fuzzy bunny tail type of plugs. There was even a chain in there if Harry wanted you on your knees for the day. You guys’ collection of princess plugs was so extensive that Harry had to sit you down in his lap and choose which plug you’d wear because you just loved them all. But the one thing you two were missing from your princess plug collection was a monogrammed one. Harry scoured the internet to find the perfect place to make the missing piece of you guys’ collection. He made sure to make the H nice and big so that he could see it simply from lifting up one of those little skirts you were always in. Once he put in the size, color and things of that nature into the form, Harry looks over it once before paying for the custom plug. And for the six or seven weeks weeks, Harry patiently and eagerly awaited the plug. And when it arrived at you guys’ front door, he was quick to undo the package to see it. When he pulls the plug from its packaging, it’s exactly the way he’d hoped. The plug was a cold and shiny with a big H right in the middle of the rounded top. It was absolutely perfect to him, and once you saw it you loved it too. As soon as you saw it, you were already pulling your bottoms down and laying across Harry’s back so that he can insert it into you. Simply watching your tight hole swallow the domed portion of the plug made Harry’s cock stir a bit in his pants. But seeing you plugged up with a big H sticking out was an even bigger turn on. Everything looked perfect. So perfect that Harry couldn’t help but taking you from behind in that moment just to stare at that plug the entire time he rammed himself into you.

Aside from the princess plug, Harry also loved buying custom clothes with his name on them for you. When he saw how good you looked in his shirts that had the embroidered Styles on the lapel, Harry went on a shopping spree. He bought you shirts in your size with the custom Styles embroidery on the lapel, and he bought you some pieces custom lingerie. When he found out that he could have custom pieces made, Harry was right on top of it and he made sure to fuck you in it once the pieces were in his hands. He got designer bras for you with custom Styles tags on the back and his name sewn into the lower band depending on the style, and panties with his first and last name placed right above your cunt. With the lingerie, specifically the panties, it was incredibly hard to not lift your skirts up to sneak a peak at your panties with his name sewn into them. Your pussy was already his, Harry just liked seeing his name on it. He especially loved it when you were a dripping mess in the panties that had his name strewn across the front. His favorite piece of them all was this Gucci thong he’d ordered. He customized everything the way he could’ve possibly wanted. His name was sewn onto the front portion right above your cunt, and there was a tag in the back that had Styles written on it. And when it came to this tag in particular, Harry made sure that it was perfect. Aside from the font and color, Harry made sure to note that he wanted it to be a bit more raised than normal so that after a day of wearing it, you’d have Styles etched into your skin. The first day you wore it, Harry was a complete mess. He was constantly trying to lift your skirt to see how perfect you looked with the itty bitty thong on. He was also getting a good look at his name that was on the material. Harry was beyond excited to see his name etched into your skin later on in the day. And when that time finally rolled around, Harry was a mess. He has you lying flat on the bed with him straddling your thighs from behind.

“Daddy wants to take you from behind do badly darling. Wanna see those pretty new panties I got for you.” He says as he slips his fingers into the tight bands of the thong. From there, he pulls the sliver of fabric that was back there up and as he does, he sees his name in your skin. In that moment, Harry was losing his mind. His cock was going crazy in his pants and he could feel the precum beginning to bead as he stared at the area. He was absolutely in love and made sure to give it to you nice and hard from behind, never once taking his eyes off of you. He even flipped you over to get a better view of his name claiming your cunt as he relentlessly and deliciously fucked into you.

And on that night, and every day and night after it, Harry made sure to fully brand you as his.

Masterlist

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koushisbabie · 4 years ago

Text

Lovebites w Kenma

“i think i should submit here but may i please get a fluffy kenma one-shot where he kinda tackles the reader away from their study stuff because he needs attention and their relationship is relatively new so kissing and makeout stuff is rare but he's just kissing up on the reader's neck, nibbling on their neck, then just cuddling them after leaving a pretty hickey there, admiring the color on their skin before offering words of affection and just massive cuddles? i would love u forever” Request from @haikyutiehoe

I kind of took creative liberty with this one, and it’s KIND OF suggestive near the end?? I hope you like it! (I also didn’t reread and edit it bc I’m supposed to be doing my essay lol)

TW: lovebites/hickeys, general fluff, suggestive at the end, probably doesn’t qualify as nsfw but like, be wary.

Pairing: Kenma x gn!reader

Word Count: 1,037

Soft lofi plays in the background as my fingers hover over the page in front of me. Loose documents and various writing accoutrement lie strewn across the kotatsu and spill over onto the floor surrounding me. Three almost empty mugs sit amongst the mess, their remaining contents long gone cold and stagnant.

I glance at the time, briefly scanning over missed messages waiting to be acknowledged. One message in particular catches my attention. A simple ‘what are you up to?’ Followed by ‘just a heads up, I’m streaming soon, wanna hang out after?’ And a third message ‘y/n, are you done yet?’.

Exhaustion seems to have made a permanent home in my limbs, but that not prevent me from instinctively smiling at the phone screen. I type back a hurried ‘I'm still studying, we can hang out later’ before turning the phone face down and shifting my attention back to the ruckus in front of me. I inwardly groan at the idea of trying to stuff copious amounts of information into my already tired brain, yet despite the hassle, somehow manage to force myself to open the next textbook and begin reading.

An indeterminate amount of time passes before a shrill vibrating erupts from the phone to my right. It pulls me out of my trance, and I reluctantly pick up the phone.

‘Hello?’

‘You’re still alive.’

‘Just barely.’

Kenma’s quiet laugh sounds on the other end.

‘What did you need?’ I ask, holding the phone between my cheek and my shoulder, using my free hands to write a few words down into my study notes.

‘Just checking up on you, you’ve been at this for hours,’ Kenma replies. ‘Come upstairs, give yourself a break, we can watch a movie or something.’

‘Tempting, but there’s some methods I haven’t completely wrapped my head around yet,’ I say, hoping that frustration does not wind its way into my voice.

‘Have you even eaten yet?’ Kenma interjects.

I glance guiltily at the snacks I vaguely recall him silently leaving on the table hours ago. ’I drank the tea,’ I quickly add, ’thank you, Kenma.’

He sighs audibly. ’Y/n...’

‘I'll eat, I promise, just a few more hours, okay?’ I smile into the phone, knowing very well he cannot see me.

‘Sure, Y/n,’ he says finally.

The phone goes silent and for a split second I consider just going upstairs to check that he isn’t sulking. He can handle a few more hours, I think. Turning back to my notes, I continue to read.

Before long, there is the muffled sound of footsteps on carpet, a door sliding open, and the gentle kneeling of a person behind me. Warmth envelopes me as sweatshirt clad arms encircle my waist, a cold nose nuzzling into my neck, the tickling of outgrown blonde hair against my skin.

‘Kenma?’ I peer at him out of the corner of my eye. ‘What’s up? You okay?’

‘Do you know what time it is?’ Comes his muffled voice. His lips press against my neck as he speaks, sending shivers down my spine.

‘It’s, uh,’ I go to check my phone, but Kenma’s hand grabs my wrist.

‘It’s time for you to listen to reason,’ he kisses my neck in between speaking, ‘and spend time with me.’

‘This is out of the blue,’ I laugh nervously. ‘Since when do you make the first move?’

‘Just because I haven’t done it before, doesn’t mean I don’t want to do it,’ Kenma blushes. ‘Is it really that weird?’

It’s now my turn to be embarrassed. ‘No, I like it.’

He presses his mouth against my neck more firmly. ‘What is it that you like, Y/n?’

‘That,’ I murmur in response, closing my eyes. ‘When you kiss me.’

His arms pull me ever closer, before using one cool hand to pull the neck of my shirt further to the side, exposing my collar bone. He places kisses fervently against my skin, the warmth and the firmness growing with each movement. I resist squirming in his grasp, not wanting to ruin the romance of the moment, despite the flustering in my belly. ‘Tell me if it hurts,’ Kenma murmurs into my ear, his lips tickling my earlobe deliciously.

‘It doesn’t.’

A moment of hesitation passes before the next kiss turns into something sharper, more urgent. He bites me hard enough to hold the skin between his lips before sucking gently and placing a soft kiss. I turn my gaze to his, the flecks of gold in his eyes shimmering innocently back at me, as if he wasn’t pushing every button I have in this moment. Almost every button.

‘Did you like that?’

The curiosity in his question almost makes me want to laugh. ’I did, yes.’

Kenma shifts his attention to my neck, his lips forming a lovely ‘o’ in surprise. He takes a hand and strokes the tender area. ‘You beginning to bruise.’

‘Am I?’ I cannot quite see the bruises.

‘I didn’t think I was that hard,’ Kenma gives a tiny smile. ‘Sorry.’

I grin mischievously at him. ’Something tells me you aren’t actually sorry for that at all.’

‘Maybe not,’ Kenma buries his blush in the crook of my neck, pulling me into an even tighter embrace.

‘Wanna go continue this upstairs?’ I ask, taking a hand and running it through the stray strands of his soft hair. This elicits a soft moan from Kenma, not unlike a cat’s purr.

‘That’s what I’ve been asking you for hours,’ He whines.

‘Ah, so you were sulking!’

‘Was not,’ Kenma argues. ‘Just, come be with me for a bit. I’ve missed you.’

Guilt tugs at my heartstrings. ’I’ve missed you, too.’

He meets my eyes with a tenderness that renders me speechless, and for a long second, nothing existed besides the two of us. God, he’s beautiful.

I stand and offer him my hand, to which he takes without hesitation. He eyes the mess I’ve made of my textbooks and study notes. 'I'll clean it tomorrow,’ I shrug. ‘Right now, I want to see how many more love bites you can give me.’

‘Anything for you,’ Kenma replies as he leads me by the hand to the sanctuary of the bedroom.

masterlist

#kenma x reader #kenma kozume #haikyuu!!#kenma x yn #kenma one shots #kenma imagine #fic request #haikyuu #haikyu imagine #kenma fluff #haikyuu fluff

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sirthisisa-wendys · 4 years ago

Note

hope i’m not too late, but congratulations on getting 500 followers! i adore everything you’ve written so far, keep up the good work!

can i request an exes au with geto x f!reader? not too angsty, but whether they get back together or not is up to you 👀

You said "not too angsty" but my mind said "HIT EM RIGHT IN THE FEELS" and I don't know wHyYyYyY

Please forgive me, but this... this is the epitome of my "ex of Geto" feelings. It literally flowed out of me in two hours.

"Yes, But...": Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

wc: 2k

tw: FLUFF AND A LIL' BIT OF ANGST

The large envelope slides from his hands to yours, and you look at the package in confusion as you open the flap.

“You want to get out of here and start fresh,” Geto begins, lacing his fingers together. You find a phone, two banking cards, and two passports inside, which is more than what you asked for. “You’ll need that.” When you open the phone, you see various apps loaded on the device - most of which are foreign to you. “Open the banking app.”

You do as your ex tells you, and see the collection of numbers (six digits) and the single comma that will change your life. You look up at the man in awe, trying to catch his black gaze as he looks outside, not speaking.

“Su, I just needed a new passport, not all of this.”

“It should put you in a good place for a few months until you get a good job. I have a friend in the States that should be able to put you up in a nice house, all paid for, of course. There’s a private school nearby so you don’t have to drive Haru there and back, just walk. And there are--”

“Suguru,” you stop him mid-sentence, placing your hand on the table to try and reach him. “We don’t need all of this. My parents are willing to--”

“I’m not sending you back to them, y/n. I want you to be independent of anyone else,” he retorts, nostrils flaring at the mention of your family. You know his frustration with your relatives comes from an honest place.

They had treated you savagely after you married into the Geto family, calling you all kinds of names and not even attending the birth of their first grandson. You weren’t sure if it was the ties to the underground that set them off or the fact that the Geto family had brought in a considerable amount of wealth and fame to your lives. Either way, you were cut off from them until you divorced Suguru due to--

“Our flight leaves at ten o’clock tomorrow,” you whisper, and Suguru shifts in his seat, sighing. “Will you come to see Haru before we go?” There’s a long pause as your ex-husband weighs his options, but you know his choice before he speaks.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he finally answers.

_____________________________________________________________

Tickets in hand, you try to keep your composure as you watch your son hold on to his father for the last time. Your other hand is captured in Suguru’s large palm, and he squeezes your fingers tenderly as you walk to the security checkpoint. While you walk, he talks to your son in gentle tones, telling him to write to him about all of the amazing things he sees and does, as well as the friends he makes, and how daddy still loves him no matter where he goes.

When he finally lets Haru down and places his Inosuke backpack around his shoulders, you turn to Geto, expecting him to say something final, something meaningful. But he doesn’t, opting to pull you into a deep embrace and kissing all over your face. “Please stay safe. Call when you make it in.”

“I will,” you whisper, inhaling the scent of his cologne and reliving your life together in a brief flash. “I promise.”

“I love you, y/n.” You want to reply that you love him, too, that the separation wasn’t his fault - but you just nod. The feeling of tiny arms around your legs makes you look down, and you both see Haru wrapping himself around your legs, holding you two together earnestly. When he lets go, Suguru lets go, and you hoist the toddler into your arms.

“Say ‘see you later,” you tell the child and he slowly waves his hand at Suguru as you walk past the agent at the checkpoint. Haru doesn’t stop waving until he can no longer see Geto, and he also waves until he can no longer see you, finally dropping his hand to his side and wondering why he felt so empty.

_____________________________________________________________

“Today we learned about the rainbow,” Haru sings as he skips with you down the sidewalk.

“Oh, yeah?” you laugh, holding his hand as he swings back and forth.

“And we played in the dirt.” That explains the messy pants, you muse, rounding the corner to the back of your home and unlocking the fence before letting Haru run up the back porch and inside the house.

You lock the fence behind you and follow your son inside, thinking of all the things you had to do before his sixth birthday party the next day. Suguru said he would be sending a surprise - you begged him not to send the fake nichirin sword you already purchased and stowed away - so you’d have to accommodate for whatever he sent your way, which was bound to be lavish.

Among other things that he provided (a house, a car, preschool, an on-call babysitter if you wanted to go out, a nain rug you looked at once and said you liked but you weren’t sure about), Suguru also spoke to Haru every evening, which made you feel at ease. He hadn’t ceased to be in Haru’s life after you divorced, so this wasn’t out of the blue. Co-parenting with him was still easy and somewhat effortless, even thousands of miles away.

You’re still lost in thought when the doorbell rings, and Haru leaps down the stairs to answer it, despite telling him not to do that time and time again. Quickly, you sidestep the boy and open the door, forgetting to check the peephole first. If you had, it might have prevented the massive shock both you and Haru have at the sight of Suguru standing in the entryway.

“Suguru…” you whisper, and Haru immediately goes to hug his father, squeezing him tightly.

“Oh, look at you,” Suguru groans, leaning down to pick up his son. “You’ve gotten bigger since I last saw you, huh?”

“I’m two inches taller!” You shake your head at the toddler’s estimation, smiling, but still in shock. Your eyes roam over the man’s appearance. He looks just as you left him, with long hair and that gaze that could see into the deepest parts of your soul. It’s been a year, but nothing’s changed at all.

“Come on in,” you urge him, and he carries Haru inside, setting him down in the foyer. Haru dashes up the stairs to retrieve something, and you walk into the kitchen, Geto following you around and looking over his surroundings.

“It looks beautiful in here,” he murmurs, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “You’ve really outdone yourself.”

“You should see upstairs,” you reply. “That’s your son’s domain.” Suguru chuckles, then places his hands on the counter behind him. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“I wanted to surprise both of you,” he shrugs and you sigh.

“There’s no guest bedroom.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” he replies, and your first instinct is to balk at his suggestion and offer your bed. But you know Suguru’s considered his options already and would have gotten a hotel if he wanted to.

“Are your things--”

“In the car. I wanted to see if I was welcome first before I barged in with my stuff.” Haru reappears, holding up his drawing from school today.

“I drew this today! They told us to draw something we love,” your child smiles widely, showing his lack of a right front tooth. You peer over at the picture and see you - with a questionable hairstyle - Haru, and Geto holding hands in front of what you assume to be your house, and a grey… horse? cat? dog? off to the side. “And we have a cat. I named him Gojo after daddy’s friend.”

_____________________________________________________________

You hand Geto a pile of blankets and a pillow, hoping it would be enough to keep him warm on the couch. “You can turn the heat up downstairs if you need to,” you advise, and he nods, taking the offerings. He pauses in your bedroom, wanting to say something.

“Thank you,” he finally whispers, then walks away, leaving you in the room to contemplate your still brooding feelings for the man who walked into your home less than six hours ago.

“Wait,” you call out softly, and he returns, searching your face. “Did you get me that job at the museum?” you wonder, crossing your arms over your chest. “The head of the museum told me I came highly recommended for the Director of Curation position.”

“And if I did?” he wonders, angling his head to the left a little and frowning. You recognize his tell immediately and nod, biting the inside of your lip. “I promised to provide for you and Haru for as long as I’m alive. I’m not going to break that promise.”

Those words stay with you as you toss and turn in the bed hours later, trying to sleep. You’re failing miserably, you realize when you look at the clock, and you rise out of bed, padding downstairs to get some tea and calm down. You tiptoe past the hallway to the living room, hoping you wouldn’t wake Suguru as you heat up a cup of water.

You’ve almost succeeded in your mission when you hear a yawn and the familiar cracking of toes and ankles as Suguru walks into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.

“Can’t sleep,” you explain and he nods, pulling a chamomile tea packet from the caddy by the cabinets. He rips open the packet and hands it to you, leaning against the counter as you dunk it in the cup and watch the color seep out.

“I still remember,” Suguru whispers, recalling the nights you spent awake while you were pregnant with Haru and how the tea was the only thing that could soothe you enough to sleep. He thumbs over to the living room and you follow, settling into the couch beside him. “Nightmares? Or just insomnia?”

“Insomnia,” you reply, and he motions for you to place your feet in his lap. He begins rubbing them methodically, taking his time on the soles as you lean into the arm of the couch and sigh.

“Remember when we used to watch Jeopardy before bed and you’d fall asleep mid-answer?” he chuckles, and you shake your head, a smile pulling at your lips.

“Those were some hard nights,” you reply, and he hums thoughtfully.

“I wonder where it all went wrong.”

You both knew where it went wrong. There was no privacy, no semblance of peace, nowhere you two could go without someone knowing everything and being in your business. And adding Haru to the mix made everything worse. The breaking point came when you were playing with him in the backyard and heard the sound of a shutter capturing your every move. Suguru broke the camera and the man’s arm, but the damage had been done. The only way you could escape the limelight was divorcing him and his name, then escaping somewhere where no one cared who you were or who you used to be. Here, you were just… y/n.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be the wife you wanted,” you whisper, and Suguru shakes his head.

“No, you were - are - the wife I want. I didn’t protect you enough. I should be the one apologizing.”

“Don’t,” you urge him, setting the un-sipped tea on the coffee table. “Don’t apologize.”

“Then I won’t,” he replies, pulling you closer. “But I have to confess something.”

“Say it.”

“My family bought property nearby. I’ll be stateside more often than not.” Geto smoothes a hand across your cheek, cupping your chin as you move onto his lap slowly.

“Haru will love that,” you breathe.

“But will you love that?” he wonders, ghosting his lips over yours.

“Yes, but--” He presses his lips to yours tenderly, cutting you off. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer, feeling all of your shared love in that one kiss.

“Yes, but...?” he asks, pulling away and raising a brow.

“Was this your plan all along?” Suguru smiles, nipping at your bottom lip. His arm curls around your waist as he pins you beneath him, pressing a kiss to your neck.

“And if it was?”

“It’s definitely working.” Suguru hums in pleasure and continues to kiss you until you're at peace in his arms again, and fast asleep.

#getou suguru #geto suguru #geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk geto #getou x reader

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mcwriting · 4 years ago

Text

A Science Project for the Ages

Big thanks to this anon for this request! Sorry it's taking me longer to fulfill my requests from when I was in quarantine but I'm trying to get those done soon!

This is a slight continuation of lab partners but can definitely be read alone :)

Ship: SoftNerd!Tom Holland x Reader

Word Count: 1883

Warnings: one blink-and-you'll-miss it bad word

⚛︎

There was a loud buzz as your phone vibrated against the wood table in the science library.

You quickly picked it up, trying not to disturb the few other students around as you looked down at the screen.

Tom.

Though you were together now, he very rarely called at this time. He knew you always studied here before dinner time and respected that.

You grabbed your notebook and bag and shuffled into the hall to answer.

"Tom? Is everything okay?"

"Hey, um. So sorry to bother you, but you've finished your science expo project, right?"

You furrowed your brows as you slid down the wall to sit and stuff your notebook back in your bag. You knew this conversation was going in a weird direction already. You could hear a faint beeping in the background.

"Uh, yeah..?"

"Right, and what was that project over again?"

"I did an analysis on light absorption of different common solutions and then compared them to the color they turned when I lit them on fire. I thought we already talked about this the other day..?"

"Yes, yeah, sorry. So one more question before I tell you what's up. Do you happen to know how to bake?" Tom asked quietly.

Suddenly you remembered what all his project was on.

He was doing a food chemistry project, explaining certain phenomenons that happen when you bake. He had hoped giving people baked goods would make them like his project more.

"I- Tom I told you I would help you but you said it would be fine," you said flatly."

"Well..... Now it's not fine, and Alex isn't here to help me. He went to his girlfriend's."

Tom's roommate. He was usually pretty patient with Tom's clumsiness, but sometimes he just had to get out and enjoy a day off, too. Tom understood, but now the burden fell on you.

"Fine, I'll be there in a little bit. Text me if you need me to bring anything."

⚛︎

You walked in to the smell of burnt. It was overwhelming and you choked as you rushed to the window to air out the apartment.

"Hey, sorry about the smell," Tom said nonchalantly from the kitchen.

You turned to see the situation at hand, which was definitely... a situation.

It was like something out of a movie. Messy bowls and utensils littered the sink. There was cake batter splattered across the counters. Finally, the culprit still sat in a muffin tin on the bar: a dozen very black cupcakes.

You sighed.

"Forgot to set the timer?"

"Yep."

"And let me guess. This was your first experience with baking?"

"That's exactly right."

"Of course," you muttered, but then clapped your hands together enthusiastically. "Well, then. Let's try and fix this, shall we?"

You leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to Tom's cheek, then brushed past him to grab the tray.

"First on the agenda, we are going to take off the papers and chuck these off the balcony to let out some frustrations, alright?"

You were lucky in that Tom's apartment was on the top floor, and his balcony faced a wooded area. The only thing he could hit was a tree and the food would eventually biodegrade into the soil.

You both tossed them, competing to see who could throw the farthest. It let Tom blow off some steam, and also gave more time to ventilate the place before you went back in.

After the last cupcake (if you could call it that) was tossed, you got started on cleaning everything up. He had used a lot of bowls for one boxed cake mix, but you didn't ask.

It took a while to make sure things were sufficiently clean, but finally everything was ready to make a new batch.

"Oh one other thing before we start. Have you ever made a meringue?" Tom asked as he preheated the oven, which you carefully supervised to make sure it was right.

"I mean, I've made some before. Why?"

"Well part of my project was talking about how egg proteins bind. They sound pretty easy. Just eggs and sugar, right?"

Your hand covered your eyes in disappointed surprise.

"What? No. Tom, meringues are like, notoriously one of the hardest things to get right. They land just before macarons, and meringue is one of the main parts of a macaron!"

"What are you talking about? How can something with two ingredients be that hard to make?" he tried to argue, but you weren't about to let him trick you into making something so difficult.

"Did none of your research explain how moisture, temperature changes, utensils used, and method of cooking affect the outcome."

"...Uh... no."

"Were you planning on using the Swiss, Italian, or French technique?"

".....I didn't know there was more than one."

"Well then you might go do a quick search to add to your presentation while I cover the cupcakes."

While he did that, you made up the batter and got the cupcakes in the oven (set at the right temperature for the right time), then got started making some frosting.

"Hey, y/n. Did you know you aren't supposed to make meringues in a plastic bowl?"

"Yep. Plastic can retain lipids which prevent proper binding. Same reason you can't whip the yolk."

"That's what this says! How did you know that?"

You shrugged.

"I like to bake. By the way, you better credit me as your pastry chef on the presentation."

"Will do."

He made some edits on the page and found a recipe claiming to be the easiest method, so you caved and agreed to help him make them when the cupcakes were done.

As you measured sugar and got the whisk attachment ready, you looked over and admired Tom as he meticulously separated the eggs.

You couldn't help but fall head over heels for him all over again seeing how he did each step carefully, all his focus on each little egg.

Sure, he was a little clumsy sometimes, but he was precious and cared about whatever he did.

It took what seemed like hours to get the egg whites whipped properly (and lots of arguing with Tom about what "stiff peaks" meant), but finally you had them in a piping bag and on a pan to bake.

You couldn't help but wait by the oven in anxious anticipation for the meringues to come out, even though they'd be in there for a while.

Tom sat right next to you on the (surprisingly) clean kitchen floor as you stared at the oven.

"Babe?" he asked softly, leaning into you.

You hummed a response, taking the opportunity to rest your head on his shoulder.

"Thank you for coming and helping me. I know you value your library time."

You smiled and sat back up, looking Tom in the eyes.

"You know, I wasn't really studying anyways. I was watching youtube videos with my headphones in because I didn't want to go home yet."

Tom had a mischievous grin and furrowed brow.

"So you just go there as an excuse to get away from me?!"

You laughed and knocked into him slightly.

"No! I just got done with my homework and wanted to hang around campus for a while... and I had a feeling you'd call eventually."

Tom gasped.

"You didn't trust me!?"

"Now that I can answer truthfully..." you started, causing him to pout. "I'm not saying I didn't trust you at all, it's just that I had never once heard of you baking and figured I would prepare myself accordingly."

"Does this mean that Alex knew too?"

"I can't speak on his behalf, but I'm glad it was just us anyways. I like getting to spend time with you like this." You paused to peck him on the lips. "Want me to read over your project? I know those spelling errors can slip by sometimes."

Tom grinned, wordlessly getting up and offering you a hand.

⚛︎

The expo was in full swing and you nervously stood on the other side of the room as your project to watch people walk by and observe your findings.

You had already given your presentation to the judging panel and now the expo was open to the public, so you tried to avoid stressing too much as you talked with some friends.

Suddenly a pair of warm arms came around your stomach and Tom's scent enveloped you.

"Hey baby, how ya feelin'?" he asked, resting his chin on your shoulder as your thumbs rubbed over his hands instinctively.

"You know me. A little nervous." You flipped in his arms to face him. "And what about you? The judges like our sweet treats?"

"They sure seemed too. Dr. Grand liked the meringues so much she asked for another."

You smiled.

"Well either way, I'm proud of us both."

"Thanks again for helping, I couldn't have done this without you. I made sure to emphasize how difficult meringue making is during my presentation thanks to you."

Finally your friends had enough of the cutesy bullshit and convinced you and Tom to rejoin the conversation, both of you with arms around each other as you conversed.

Time passed and eventually they gave prizes to the best projects of the expo. You knew you wouldn't win anything, there were some far better projects out there that included heavy research.

"And in first place, 'Science around us: the chemistry of baking' by Mr. Tom Holland! Congratulations! If all of our winners could come pick up their ribbons and get a photo for the newsletter, that would be great."

Tom stayed casually next to you, so you had to shake him and get his attention.

"Did you hear that Tom? You won!"

Tom blinked a few times, then gasped.

"I won!? I mean, we won!!?"

You rolled your eyes and pushed him forward.

"Go on, get your blue ribbon, baker boy."

He excitedly rushed up to the table where his prize awaited (tripping a few times, but you ignored that) and bounced on the balls of his feet as someone pinned the ribbon to his shirt.

You could see the sheer delight on his face as the winners took a group photo, and he practically skipped back to meet you.

You and your friends gave him congratulations as he happily looked down at the blue piece pinned to him.

He then unpinned it and tried to hand it to you.

"Now, don't congratulate me, y/n gets all the credit for making everything."

"No, no. It was your idea and you did the research. You deserve that more than anyone else. And plus, you were right. Baked goods did give you an edge over the competition."

"Well I say it was a science project for the ages!" he exclaimed, holding up the ribbon. You and your friends cheered to that.

"How 'bout we go celebrate your win over lunch, hm? The cupcake I had isn't holding me over and I'm starving."

"Sounds perfect, darling. Lead the way."

You happily headed off towards the nearest place on campus, completely oblivious to the fact that Tom had pinned his blue ribbon to your backpack.

He quickly made up time and slipped a hand into yours.

If nothing else, he was the boyfriend of the ages.

⚛︎

A/N: thanks to the anon who sent the request for this! I really enjoyed writing it! I think I could've improved some things but overall I'm pretty satisfied with it, and I hope you are too!

Permanent Tag List

Send a message or ask if you’d like to be added to my permanent or series taglists so I can verify you’ve been added!

@jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @agentnataliahofferson, @spider-babe, @justafangirlduh, @hollandswife

#a science project for the ages #tom holland #tom holland story #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland one shot #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland imagine

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ramp-it-up · 4 years ago

Text

Damage, Pt. 2

Pairing: Rafael Casal x OFC Holly Woods

Word Count: 3.8 K

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF Read at your own risk. Pining, angst, FWB, graphic sex, protected sex, talk of getting tested for STD’s, Krispy Kreme, and all the feels.

A/N: It’s my birthday and I missed Rafa and Holly, so I wrote my own deliverance. At this point, these two are so oblivious, it isn’t funny. This happens just after Last Christmas.

This December adventure began early that morning, as Daveed and Rafa taught your writing classes and then hosted a Holiday showcase for your kids.

They donated their time and talents as a favor for you. It was so damn cute and thoughtful that you’d thanked Rafael and then kissed him under the mistletoe. Almost as if you were in a relationship.

Almost.

You weren’t in a relationship, however. You’d only shared two nights together, as friends who fucked, and you had an understanding that it wouldn’t be any more than that. Rafael and you had an agreement to service each other for the time being, no commitment, no feels.

And who were you to him? He was a creative, a star who could jet off around the world in a moment’s notice for a glamorous affair. You were just a school teacher who worked every day in LA. Rafael would never want you for his girl. So this situationship served a utilitarian purpose, not a romantic one.

After the kiss, Rafael’s mind was whirring. He slowly backed away and checked the time, noticing that it was just after 9 pm. The night was young. He didn’t want the night with you to end.

Rafael felt the urge to be with you again, but he didn’t want to push his luck. You were so dope and the fact that you didn’t know it made you even more so. You were refreshing with your intelligence, adding to the facts that you did not give a fuck who he was, did not play to his ego, and did not want him to wife you.

That last part was refreshing, but also troubling as he evaluated his feelings for you. But there were no feelings to be involved; you’d made that clear. If he fell for you, you’d probably end it. You clearly didn’t want to be bothered with his lifestyle, and frankly, he didn’t deserve you.

But he could possibly have tonight. It would be the last chance to be with you before you went to Houston to visit your family for Christmas, and the thoughts of you he’d had since Tuesday couldn’t wait another week.

You gathered yourself together and got your emotions in check. You told yourself that you were just fond of him as a friend, but that’s where the sentiment ended. You only had to repeat that to yourself about three times before your heart started to slow down.

Rafael smiled at you, crossing his legs and leaning on your desk while watching you work, finally getting your things together so that you could leave. It had been a long day.

You were wearing your work clothes, white button down shirt, black pencil skirt and heels. Your Christmas cardigan had been discarded when you started cleaning up. That skirt was fit. ting. Damn, that ass. You were all covered up, but the clothes got him a little hard.

You watched him watching you and gave him a smile that made his blue-greens light up.

“Did you have fun with my badass kids today?”

Rafa laughed at your joke. He saw how much you loved your students.

“They’re not bad. Some kids just need different ways to learn and show that they’ve learned. But you know that already.”

He shook his head at you. He could read you like a book.

“You try to pretend that you’re mean Ms. Woods but I know better. They wouldn’t love you so much if you were mean to them. Like young Timothy. He sure does love you a lot. You’re… what is it he called you? His Cutie Pie?” Rafa looked at you with a cocked eyebrow. Timmy was his nemesis.

There was something in his voice that made you stop and look. Could Rafa be jealous of a kindergartner? Nah. But he was certainly worked up.

You smiled mischievously, walking towards him with some workbooks in your hand.

“I am ‘Mean Ms. Woods.’”

You came close to him and leaned beside him to put the workbooks on your desk. Standing in front of him, your legs on either side of his, Rafael got caught up. He kept his hands clasped in front of him and eyes on you as you got close. But he couldn’t help but lean in, try to look down your shirt and kiss you on your neck.

You stepped back before his lips made contact, teasing him. The way he huffed and clenched his jaw got you going. That smoldering look and flashing green eyes always did.

You definitely wanted to give him some, if he wanted, after what he had pulled off today for your kids. You were happy that he seemed to want you too. But you were chilling. You wondered about other women in his rotation.

You laughed a little and smiled, shaking your head at yourself.

“What?”

Rafa smiled, seeing that you were flustered about something and hoping that something was him. He knew the cat and mouse game was just beginning.

It had been just three days but he was feening for you. Especially after seeing you with your kids this morning. You were something special. Someone he couldn’t let… He stopped his train of thought as you started talking.

“Timothy is a handful. Mischievous, hella smart, quick witted. And a little charmer. He’s always trying to get a kiss. He has a ton of potential. Reminds me of someone else…”

Rafael’s quick wit turned you the fuck on. Not to mention his face. And... Whew. Your thoughts were getting out of control.

The way you were smiling at him made Rafa‘s heart leap. He tried to push the emotions down and just feel the physical. But he did care about you. A lot.

“Ok, enough about Timenstien. Let’s talk about adult things…” He just wanted to pick you up and carry you outta here the way you cocked your head at him.

“...Like the arrangement for benefits without borders. The tests, the shot… “ You just continued to stare at him. When you licked your lips, Rafa put his hands in front of him to cover up his hard on.

You laughed again. “‘Benefits Without Borders,’ you should copyright that.”

“Yeah, or call it, ‘FWB Raw’” Rafael had jokes.

You cracked up. “I can’t with you, Rafa.”

Rafael’s face fell. “I mean your jokes, I can’t with your jokes. Sheesh.”

You turned around to gather more books. Rafa fixed his face, but his eyes couldn’t leave your ass.

“Anyway, I already started the process. I went and was able to get an appointment Wednesday after school, so the shot should take effect next week.”

After the night you’d had Tuesday, you definitely wanted to experience that again. It was fortunate that your doctor had an opening on such short notice.

Rafa’s heart leapt when he heard that, but his face showed no emotion, just a cocked eyebrow when you turned back around.

“Word?”

“Word. Yeah, I’m actually leaving Sunday morning, Christmas Eve, and won’t be back until the 30th...So.”

“So…” Rafa’s eyes, they were changing colors on you. It put you off balance.

“So, if we go get the tests tonight, next week might be available for no barrier method benefits between friends That is if you still want to….” You bit your lip. Rafa cleared his throat and you saw a smile playing around his mouth.

“Let’s think about the last time when that almost happened.” And he paused so you could go there. You had to lean on one of the children’s tables to think of the shower. You were most definitely wet right now.

Rafa watched you as you had to open your mouth to breathe.Yes, he was definitely about to get some tonight. He wanted more than just sex, but right now he would take what he could get. Then your face changed to uncertainty.

“By the time I get back, you’ll probably have other plans for New Year’s weekend…”

Rafa was confused. “Nah, I’m going next door for Utkarsh and Naomi’s party… aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but you-- we-- might have dates or something.”

Ohhhhh. That’s what was up. Rafa nodded. Shit. You might have someone else in the rotation.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. True that. There’s a couple of people, I mean. A few.”

Rafa was lying through his teeth, no one in his phone could hold a candle to you. Sure, they were ready, willing and able. But they were not you. And you didn’t have to know that.

“See, so…”

Rafa mourned the lost vibe. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, not caring how it looked anymore. You watched him and longed to have your fingers in his mane, but you were chilling.

“Look. The other night we said that this was a special deal between us. I don’t wanna tie you down. We’ll just see how things go, I mean, you might hook up in Houston…” He watched you, waiting for you to deny it.

You didn’t deny it simply because you did not know how to say that the only one you wanted to take advantage of the situation was him. You just stared at him. When you didn’t say anything, he went on.

“...old flames, new boos, whatever. The tests will be good information to have in any circumstance. I say we go for it.”

"Let's get it!"

An hour later you were at the Krispy Kreme donuts on Crenshaw on the way to your place. You had already dropped your car off and were now chilling with the homie after getting tested for STDs.

You were staring in the window of the bakery, watching the donuts getting that hot glaze now and licking your lips. They were so tempting. You were thinking donuts and Rafa was thinking the same about your lips.

"I don't think these will help with my anemia." Your little laugh was so cute to Rafa.

The only bad news you’d got from the blood tests was that you needed more iron. You were both clean and ready to go.

"Let's get some. That glaze does something to me. I just want to lick some of that creamy stuff from around that hole..." Rafa was staring at you while he spoke, the “Hot Donuts Now” sign casting an eerie red light on half of his face.

"You’re so nasty...." you giggled.

Rafael screwed up his face.

"What? I'm talking ‘bout some donuts. I don't know what you're talking about." Rafa felt irrationally happy being here with you. Because you were a great friend. Yeah, that was it.

You got a dozen and left on the way to your house. You stole a donut while riding. You looked at him while licking your fingers.

You’d decided that you wanted to have him before you left, even if you had to use protection. After you ate the donut, you put your thumb in your mouth, sucked for a second, and removed it with a loud pop, still staring at Rafa.

He almost pulled over to the side of the road. But he was determined. "Hmmmm." Was all he replied as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

You put your hand on Rafael’s knee and moved it up a few inches to his dick. It was appropriately swollen. You smiled and started stroking it through his pants. You felt it get harder.

"I’ve been thinking about you a lot tonight. What you did for the kids was so… It was nice. On the other hand, I can’t wait for you to fuck my throat."

Rafa almost choked on nothing. You always surprised him and made him feel like an insecure, horny teenage boy. But he wasn't going out like that. You were just a few minutes from your place.

"You know what. I'd love to see those tits right now."

“Right now? While you are driving?”

“I’m grown. Been driving since I was 15. I got this.”

You giggled, but reached up and unbuttoned your shirt. Your breasts were bathed in the moonlight, sitting perky and upright in your sheer black bra. Holy fuck. Your nipples were calling to him.

He'd distracted you from his dick, but his mouth was watering. All he wanted was to fulfill your dirty fantasies. He reached your apartment and turned off the car. You leaned back against the window. Rafael turned towards you, appraising you impassively. He had to use his acting skills to seem calm. Damn, you had him twisted.

"Touch them for me."

You licked your lips at his command.

"But I think I still have some glaze on my..."

Rafa just stared at you.

You did as you were told and pulled your bra cups down, freeing your breasts. You started feeling and pulling on your nipples. Your eyes were half closed in ecstasy as you started moaning and fogging the windows of Rafa’s car. He was right there with you as he palmed himself through his pants and feasted his eyes on you for a few minutes.

He leaned over and took over your breasts with his mouth. He licked and sucked each of them, making you wet all over again.

“Mmmmm. So sweet.” He looked up at you, his breath fanning your face from below.

You giggled. “It’s the icing from the donut.”

“Nah girl, it’s just how you taste. Like the sweetest ambrosia.”

Damn, his words. Rafael Casal and his damn words. You just stared at him, speechless.

Rafael drew in a ragged breath and reached over to pull your bra up and button your shirt just enough to be decent going into your apartment. It was so tender. But in a no feels kind of way.

“Let’s go on up.”

Rafa peered into your soul. Sure, you wanted him. But was it really just for friendship and occasional dick?

“Eager, are we?”

His voice did something to you. The soft tenor and the earnestness of his requests of you made you melt. How did he do things to you without touching you? You didn’t want to analyze it too much, so you threw the question back on him.

“You’e not?” Your challenge threw him off. He chuckled to hide his nerves.

“Yes, I’m eager Holly. I’ve been thinking about the last time since the last time. I want you.”

You closed your eyes and licked your lips, trying to center yourself. “That’s cool.”

You reached for your bag and moved to get out of the car.

“Hold on,” Rafa moved quickly to get out and go around to open the door for you, his chivalry not unnoticed by you. Again, the little things made you want him even more. This was not going to be good for your heart when he decided to move on.

You led the way to your place and started up the stairs to your apartment before him.

It seemed as if that ass was going left to right in slow motion as Rafael watched it intently. He shook his head to see if he was bugging. When you glanced at him over her shoulder, he knew.

He grinned at you and looked back at it when you turned back around, catching a glimpse of a garter belt on your thighs through the slit in your skirt as you climbed the stairs.

Holy fuck! He had to have you. He rubbed his fingers right before reaching out to verify, then drew them back, because it wouldn’t do to fuck you outside on the stairs of your apartment building.

Rafa gave you some space as you opened the door, but as soon as you were inside, he pushed you up against the wall, hands everywhere. It seemed as if he’d waited forever and not just three days. You had him addicted.

You moaned as Rafael started kissing down your neck to your cleavage, dropping your bags on the floor by your feet. He saw a peek of your black bra through your shirt. He remembered the garter set and had to see the entire affect. He backed up, taking you in from head to toe.

"You wanna take those clothes off, or do you want me to rip them off?"

You smiled. "I guess I'll choose the first option."

You slowly unbuttoned your blouse, and peeled the skirt from your hips. It was so seductive that by the time you were done, Rafa had undressed as well, his thick dick in his hands, getting it ready for you.

You stood before him, in a sheer black lace bra and garter set, with no panties. The fact that you had been like that all day under your clothes made him get even harder. And you were looking at what he was holding and licking your lips.

"You hungry?"

"Yes. Please."

"C'mere."

Rafael laid you down on the couch. He turned your head and filled your mouth as he stood at one end of the sofa. He used his free hand to twist and flick your rock hard nipples through your bra. Damn, he loved it when you moaned with his dick in your mouth.

“You like that Holly? This what you wanted?”

You were ravenous, stroking off what you couldn’t fit in your mouth naturally. And you were busy, so you just nodded. Rafa continued to torture your nipples with one hand, but moved his other hand down to your clit, swirling insistent and concentrated circles around it.

You were so worked up that it did not take too long for him to manipulate an orgasm from you. “Damn, girl.”

He was in heaven as you came with your mouth around his dick. Good thing, it muffled the sound. He was concentrating on not shooting off down your throat as he watched you, writhing in your garter set and licking his fingers, and then moving down to eat some of your delicious cream.

Rafa held your hips down mercilessly as you fought your next orgasm. He tongued you through it, taking all that you had to give him and successfully keeping you from running from it.

When he rose from between your legs, and wiped his face with the back of his hand, you looked as if you were going to sleep, your eyes vacant and rolling back in your head. You were in shock from all the pleasure.

"Get that ass up."

You languidly obeyed and stood before him, eyes glowing and sexy ass lips smiling. Something in Rafael’s heart lurched and he couldn’t explain to anyone why. He was mad for some reason.

Conflicted with different emotions, he just grabbed your waist and roughly turned you around, grabbing your arm and twisting it behind your back as he bent you over the arm of the couch.

You looked amazing in what you were wearing. He rubbed your ass before he smacked it, hard. Rafa was rewarded with a moan and an arched back.

“Are you ready for this dick?” He smiled as he put the tip alllllmost in.

“Wait…”

Then he remembered. “Shit.”

He went into your bedroom, seeing your suitcase set up and mostly packed for the trip. He brushed away the feeling that he had at what that meant and quickly went to your bedside table for a condom. He didn’t want to lose the vibe.

He came back into the living room to the sight of you still bent over, head resting on the couch cushion. He stroked himself to full staff again, put the condom on, and lined up with your cunt.

“Still ready?”

He didn’t have to ask as he heard your moan and felt you try to push back to take him. He stilled your movement with this hand on your hip, wanting to prolong the anticipation. His heart skipped a beat as you asked him for it.

“Please, Rafa, please give it to me…”

“Damn.”

He sank into you, none too easily.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. And so wet. I love to see you cream for me, Holly. Can’t wait to feel it again.” He couldn’t wait until you returned, so that he wouldn’t have to worry about condoms. That is if you hadn’t…

He brushed the thought of you with another man out of his mind and slapped your ass, angry again. You whimpering beneath him had him almost out of control. You, it seemed, were on the same page.

“Oh, Rafa. I’m so close already. I’m going to….” Rafa just kept hitting that spot, making your knees buckle. You were grateful for the support of the couch arm.

“Fuck, Rafa… I’m gonna c-c-cummmmmm.” You started pounding around him, and he grabbed the back of your neck.

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK, fuck, fuck.” Rafa had no other words at the moment.

You were screaming into the couch cushion as he emptied his cum into the condom, his hips stuttering and erratic in their rhythm.

He leaned over you and onto your back after he was spent, for just a few moments. Then, he straightened up and made his way to your bathroom to get rid of the condom.

Rafael washed up a little and looked at himself in the mirror. It was hopeless. He brought out a washcloth for you and found you curled up on the couch.

“Let me..” Rafa approached you to clean you up, and you let him, trying not to register the intimacy and tenderness of the act. He was just being a good friend.

When he was done, you thanked him and went to the bathroom, shaking your head at yourself in the mirror. You felt helpless and a slave to the feelings that weren’t supposed to be there.

You made your way back into your bedroom, took off the garter and hose, and pulled on some sweats and a tee.

In the living room, Rafa was dressed as well. And standing by the door. Your heart sank a little. But you smiled and went toward him.

“Thank you, that was just what I needed after a long week. You headed out?”

Why didn’t you just invite him to stay over?

“Yeah, I better go. You probably have a ton to do before you leave.”

Rafael didn’t know how to say that he wanted to stay, but if he did, he would wind up saying too much. “Can I have a hug?” He needed you in his arms, just one more time.

You smiled at him. “Is it even a question, after what we just did?”

You were sad that he didn’t want really to hug, he just wanted to fuck. He was just being nice, but that didn’t keep you from burying your head in his chest and squeezing tight as you went into his embrace.

Rafael inhaled the scent of your hair and closed his eyes as he cradled you, holding you close to his heart. “You have a safe trip, and a good time with your people. Merry Christmas again, Holly.”

Your eyes welled up as you kept your head in his chest. “I will, Rafa. Thank you so much again for today. It was everything. Merry Christmas, Rafa. Have a good one.”

You lowkey wiped your eyes on his shirt before you looked up at him and smiled. You gazed at each other for a minute before he let you go.

“See you in a few days. You know, maybe.” He fumbled for the doorknob behind him.

You laughed and smiled, catching his heart. “Yeah, see you next week. Possibly.”

“Bye Holly.” He’d finally found the doorknob and was backing out of it.

“See ya, Rafael.” You were shaking your head at him as you closed the door.

You leaned against it for a long time as Rafa made his way to the car, and banged his head on the steering wheel.

You both were idiots in love. And you didn’t even realize it.

-------

Let me know if you liked it! Like, comment, reblog, please. 😁

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#Rafael Casal #Rafael Santiago Casal #rafael casal x reader #rafael x reader #rafael casal smut #rafa x holly #rafael casal fanfiction #Rafael Casal x ofc black reader #rafael casal x black reader #rafael casal angst #rafael casal fluff #arrivals fic

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jackrrabbit · 5 years ago

Text

practice makes perfect /// Mitsuri x f!Reader (18+)

Request: Hey! I read your Shinobu NSFW thing. I was wondering if you could write a Mitsuri NSFW thing but not as intense? Like Mitsuri and her female S/o are cuddling and things get a really steamy so they start kissing and fingering each other? Please and thank you!

A/N: REPOSTING because when I posted this a few hours ago it was glitching and not showing up in tags and stuff :( sorry to anyone who has already seen it!

I love Mitsuri and I get so few f/f reqs so ty for the request 💕 Y’all know idk how to write true vanilla so this is a little more spicy (Mitsuri and reader are not in an established relationship), but I made it soft just for you anon

Summary: When the most popular girl in school offers to help you practice kissing, it’s not like you’re going to say no.

Tags/warnings: inexperienced reader, femme preppy Mitsuri, she’s a little soft dom? like just a tiny bit, mild orgasm control, fluffy smut, crushes, modern high school AU, heteronormativity, reader thinks she’s straight lmao, all characters are adults

Okay, Mitsuri isn’t just the queen bee of your school. She’s also the prettiest girl you’ve ever met. It shouldn’t be possible for a person to be that beautiful, much less fair—what was god thinking when he gave her that pink and green hair that would look clownish on anyone but her? Those thick, dark eyelashes framing eyes you feel like you could drown in? Those long, perfect legs?

(Not that you stare at her legs or something. It’s just—your school uniform skirts are kind of short, and she always wears those striped thigh-highs, and she sits next to you in senior Biology and sometimes she stretches her legs out in the aisle between your desks and flexes them while she sighs during long lectures, and seriously, her legs are perfect.)

Mitsuri is the kind of girl who gets asked out by a different guy every other day. She has a fan club. Boys write Mr. _____ Kanroji in their notebooks, circle it with hearts, and fantasize about marrying her. She has more ex-boyfriends than you have Facebook friends. So you’re really sure why, somehow, you two have become…close?

If you have to, you can trace your friendship back to that Biology class. The teacher has a bad habit of cold-calling students for answers to questions, which makes him pretty unpopular. You’ve gotten used to it over the months, deciding that rebelling is a less productive method of dealing with it than just making sure to review the textbook chapters at least twice before every class, but apparently Mitsuri isn’t quite as familiar with the material.

When the teacher calls on her (a bit vindictively, you think, probably because she’s chewing pink bubblegum and drawing cherry blossoms in the composition book she’s supposed to be taking notes in) to ask her something about determining whether an organism’s life cycle exhibits zygotic, gametic, or sporic meiosis, she just gapes blankly back at him.

You feel sorry for her. It’s always painful to watch when someone can’t answer a question in class—you might be a fairly good student, but you still sympathize with how embarrassing it is to be put on the spot like that. The teacher refuses to move on, repeating her name and prodding her until her face is flushed bright pink and her lower lip is trembling. You’re not trying to pity her, but you can’t help it, and before you can think better of it you’re writing ‘compare diploid and haploid forms’ in the corner of your notebook and surreptitiously sliding it her way.

After the class, she pulls you aside in the hallway to thank you, eyes bright, telling you you’re so smart and kind and thoughtful and wondering how come she’s never talked to you before. “What a waste! We sat next to each other all semester, and I’m only getting to know you now.”

No wonder she’s popular. Her exuberance is infectious, like her good mood is seeping into your skin from her hand wrapped around yours. Mitsuri isn’t just pretty, she’s the kind of person who makes you feel good about herself just by being near her.

You’re about 100% sure that’s the last time the two of you will talk (unless she needs help with Bio homework and decides you’re the best candidate to get answers from). But it’s not. Mitsuri insists on treating you to boba after class—you try to deny her but she refuses to hear it and you can’t say no to her when she looks at you with those pretty jade-chip eyes. You get milk tea with black tapioca pearls swimming in caramelized fried sugar; her drink is jasmine rose fruit tea with tiny cubes of green apple floating at the top. “It looks like your hair,” you tell her, motioning toward the pink-and-green drink.

“Really?” Mitsuri’s cheeks turn red, which you notice is a frequent occurrence for her. “That’s why I got it. Isn’t it cute? I love how pretty all of the drinks are at this teahouse.”

The two of you split a little matcha cake. And then a vanilla taro cake. And then Mitsuri orders sweet potato fries and gyoza and fried chicken and shrimp tempura and wow, this girl can eat. “I kind of have a big appetite,” she tells you shyly some time around her fourth order of hanami dango. “Sorry, is it weird?”

“Not at all! It’s cute,” you blurt out, and then immediately cover your mouth. Cute? Where did that come from? That’s not the kind of thing you’re supposed to be saying to a girl you barely even know, or is it? Maybe you’re overthinking this. Mitsuri is so beautiful it’s hard to think straight around her.

You’re so busy staring down at your lap and blushing that you don’t notice she’s doing the same thing.

Mitsuri seems to take that teashop date hangout as permission to pursue a full-fledged friendship with you. Before you know it, she’s inviting herself over to your house after school, dragging you to cafés and picnics to study together on the weekends, and begging you to sit with her at lunch. Her other friends don’t seem thrilled at your being her favorite new playmate, but she doesn’t mind it so you try not to, either.

Like right now. It’s a weekend, and she’s decided that her house is going to be the setting for an overnight Bio study session slash sleepover in anticipation of the test you have coming up. You’re scouring the textbook for an answer at her desk while Mitsuri lies on her stomach on her bed with her feet kicked up behind her and crossed at the ankles. Graded quizzes are spread out in an arc around her on the cotton candy-colored duvet, and the sparkly gel pen she’s using to write flash cards is poking out of the corner of her mouth. With her fair skin barely covered by a tank top and shorts, loose hair flowing over her back, and dark brows furrowed in concentration, she looks like the centerfold of a teen magazine from the 90s.

I bet guys have wet dreams about her, you think. Then you shut down that line of thinking, shut it all the way down because you’re not supposed to be thinking these things about a female friend, no matter how pretty she is or how glossy her lips look even though she’s just wearing chapstick or how good she smells (like strawberries? honey? or whatever sweet she ate last, you’re not sure). But you can’t quite tamp down the feeling that you’ve stumbled on some unbelievable luck to get close to her.

You’re not the only one having trouble focusing on your studies. “I’m done with this!” Mitsuri exclaims, throwing down her pen so it makes a stray line on the quiz she was reviewing before it bounces off the bed. “I’m so tired of studying, aren’t you? If I learn another thing about cell division my brain is going to explode. Can’t we take a break?”

“Sure, if you want to get another 43%. Didn’t your dad say he’s going to stop paying your snack food fund if you fail one more exam?”

Her pink mouth drops open. “Hey! That’s not fair, I didn’t tell you that to use it against me. Be nice.”

But after a second, Mitsuri’s pout turns into a giggle. She hooks her foot around the stem of the office chair you’re sitting in and pulls it toward the bed along with you. “Come on! Let’s talk about love. Do you have a crush?”

You roll your eyes but relent, sliding off the chair and onto the big, fluffy bed next to Mitsuri. You can always get back to reviewing after you take a short break, right? She gathers up the quizzes and notecards and dumps them unceremoniously on the nightstand by her bed to make space for you, all too eager to stop thinking about Bio.

“I don’t have a crush,” you tell her.

“Really? There’s no one you think is cute? No one you want to get to know a little better?”

Well…if that’s what she means… You glance sideways at her. There’s definitely someone you think is cute who you want to get to know better. She doesn’t have to know it’s her—not that you have a crush on her; that would be ridiculous.

If she’s going to get that excited about your potential crush, how are you supposed to tell her you don’t have one? You’ll just have to pretend, for her sake. “I guess there’s someone. I wouldn’t call it love, but…”

Long black lashes flutter up at you as Mitsuri blinks. “Oh my gosh, who is it?”

“It’s a secret,” you say quickly.

“Aww, but I wanna know who you have a crush on!” She scooches closer to you and pokes you gently in the side. “Do I know him? Is he a senior? What does he look like? What do you like about him?”

“Um yeah, you know…him. He’s a senior but you’ll never—seriously never guess who it is, so don’t even try. He’s…really good-looking, I don’t know. He has nice hair…and, um, nice legs. And he…” you trail off, wondering what you can say about your secret ‘crush’ that won’t tip Mitsuri off that you’re talking about her.

“…I like him. He talks a lot but you can tell he cares about what you’re saying when he’s listening to you. He’s kind of dreamy and self-conscious about dumb things but it just makes me like him more.”

Was that too much? Mitsuri is looking into your eyes in pure rapture, holding onto every word you say. Are you being obvious? But—no way. She’s so loved by guys that she’d never even suspect that a girl could like her too.

Not that you like her. Not like that, at least.

After a moment when you feel your heart beating so deeply that you’re sure she can hear it too, she smiles sweetly and pinches your cheek. “You’re really pretty when you’re talking about your crush, (Y/N). You look like a maiden.”

You bite your lip, not sure whether to be embarrassed or flattered. If any other girl as beautiful as Mitsuri called you pretty, you’d think they were being insincere, but she’s not like that. Her genuine affection shines through in everything she does. If you’re pretty, she’s Helen of Troy.

“What do you mean, ‘a maiden’?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” Mitsuri says, tracing invisible hearts into her bedspread with a fingertip. “You just look…innocent somehow? Like this is your first love.”

You duck down, blushing.

“Wait, really?” She sits up and easily flips you over onto your back (sometimes you forget that a decade of cheerleading has made her at least a dozen times as strong as you are) so she can blink brightly at you. “This is your first love? Ooh…”

“Is that so weird?” you ask a little defensively. “I don’t get a lot of crushes.”

“No, it’s not weird! It’s cute,” Mitsuri says. “But aren’t you nervous? What if you fall in love with him and you guys start dating and you don’t know how to do anything?”

“Do what?”

“You know. Like, kissing and stuff. Aren’t you worried that you’ll have your first kiss with him and he’ll be like, ‘oh my gosh, you can’t even kiss, I don’t like you anymore’.”

“No one would say that,” you reply, but the scenario does strike a pang of anxiousness in your heart. You’ve always been too focused on school and friends and family to bother worrying about love, but the truth is you have worried about the fact that you’re soon going to be a high school graduate who has never so much as kissed another person on the lips.

“You have no idea,” Mitsuri sighs. “Boys are so mean. But I can’t believe you haven’t had your first kiss!”

“That’s rude,” you say, wrinkling your nose.

She flaps her hands in the air frantically. “No, no I didn’t mean it like that! Sorry! I just meant I can’t believe you’ve never had a boyfriend when you’re so pretty and nice. The boy who locks you down is going to feel super lucky that he gets to take all of your firsts.”

You sit up next to Mitsuri and lean back on her cushioned headboard. “I don’t care about that. Honestly, I’d rather have some practice before I get involved with anyone.”

A beat passes. Then— “Really? You want practice?”

You shrug. “I mean, I guess? But it’s not like I can just pick up some random guy and tell him to let me practice kissing.”

Mitsuri cocks her head to the side and long pink fringe falls away from her face. “You don’t need to do that. Just practice with me.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” What, is she going to give you tips on tongue technique or something?

“…Like this,” Mitsuri says softly—and then her delicate hand is stroking up the side of your jaw and carding into your hair, tilting your head to face hers and pulling you closer. She hesitates before she makes contact, looking in your eyes as if to confirm are you okay with this? But (maybe because you’re caught off guard, maybe because you think you do need the practice, or maybe because that angelic strawberry-honey smell is way too intoxicating up close) you don’t stop her, and she leans in and completes the kiss.

It’s soft. Smells sweet. Tastes sweeter.

Mitsuri’s lips are velvety and glossy-damp moving against yours. The scent you thought was honey is really honeysuckle—there’s a fresh floral quality to the taste as her lip balm is transferred from her mouth to yours.

The kiss only lasts a few seconds, but by the time she lifts back from you your lips are tingling. You cover your mouth with your hand like a damsel from a Victorian-era novel and stare wide-eyed at her.

“How was that? Your first kiss?”

“I—um, I liked it I think?”

Mitsuri smiles at you and it’s like a ray of sunlight falling down through a break in the clouds. “Yay! I’m glad.”

The two of you sit in silence for a second, and you wonder what you’re supposed to do now. Go back to studying? You’re not sure you’re capable of that when you feel like she’s…still kissing you. It hasn’t quite hit you yet that this is your first kiss—something special, something you’ll never forget. The feeling of Mitsuri kissing you is going to be written on your heart for the rest of your life.

What have I done? you think, but it’s not condemnatory. It’s a question, maybe neutral, maybe hopeful.

“Come on, come here,” Mitsuri says. “You need a little more practice.”

And then she’s kissing you again, all the while pulling you closer, closer, into her lap. She breaks the kiss just long enough to murmur to you to open your mouth. When you do, her tongue slips in, prodding gently between your lips and sliding up against yours. It’s a weird feeling—you can’t say with certainty that it feels good, but it doesn’t feel bad, either. It feels like something you could get used to.

This kiss is longer and deeper, and Mitsuri is sighing into the place where your lips meet. The kissing sounds are both embarrassing and thrilling. You can hardly believe that you’re actually doing this, kissing Mitsuri Kanroji in her bedroom and sitting in her lap with your thighs hovering over hers because you’re scared to let yourself press any deeper into her.

By the fourth kiss, you think you’re getting the hang of this. Your fingers are laced in Mitsuri’s hair, pulling her bangs out of the way so you can see her face clearly. Her eyes are hazy and intense, a warm glow suffusing her cheeks, and her lips are reddened. The feeling of not knowing whether you like having her tongue in your mouth or not is gone. You like it. You want more of it. You could do this all day.

…But apparently Mitsuri has something else in mind. She moves back and looks at you like she’s got a secret she’s dying to tell you. Her hands slide up your thighs, almost reaching the hem of the skirt you’re wearing—it’s knee-length, comfortable and practical for the weather—but with your legs spread over hers, the fabric is bunched up at the juncture of your hips and legs, exposing your thighs to view. Mitsuri’s fingernails (manicured, short blunt French tips, pale pink with stripes of gold near the nail bed) scratch painlessly into your skin. “You learn really fast, (Y/N).”

“Thanks…” you pant out.

“Can I do a little more? Just a little. ‘Cause, I mean, I don’t know if you’ve ever done this yourself—”

Oh. Oh? Mitsuri’s hand is creeping up under your skirt.

“—but it’s really good to have some experience with this, too, before you do anything with boys.”

She’s touching your pussy through your underwear. Those pretty manicured hands are stroking you through the fabric, fingertips sliding up between your lips with practiced precision. Oh god, can she feel how wet you are? You’ve felt that dewy heat growing at your core for a while, but you didn’t think she would touch you and feel it. “Mitsuri?”

“Are you already wet?” Two soft fingers pet your clit, moving over it side to side through your panties. “Did you get wet for me?”

“Mm—mm—Mitsuri…”

“Can I touch?” She pops her chin up and kisses you on the cheek, and then again on the other cheek, the side of your mouth, your forehead, all the while rubbing your pussy.

On the sixth teasing little kiss, you gasp and kiss her fully on the lips. “…okay?”

“Good…” Mitsuri smoothly pushes your ass up so she can hook fingers under the waistband of your panties and tug them down past your hips. You shift and let her do it—it feels like her touch is too hot, sending trails of warmth over every place where your skin meets. Her touch lingers even as you awkwardly straighten out of her lap for just as long as it takes to remove your panties and deposit them gracelessly on the floor.

Are you doing this right? Even with your shirt and skirt on, you feel more exposed than you’ve ever been in front of another person. You’ve never done anything remotely like this before—how weird is it that the first person to touch you is going to be a female friend? That you’re not doing this for the right reasons (and what are the ‘right reasons’? love? intimacy? desire?), but for practice?

Mitsuri settles you back onto her lap and slowly drags your shirt up over your bra. When the undergarment is exposed, she bites her bottom lip and sucks in a breath, and you feel eternally grateful that you, by some coincidence or trick of fate, decided to wear one of your nicer bras today. She cups the side of your breasts and runs her thumbs over the lacy wine-red fabric. “Beautiful…you’re so sexy, (Y/N). I can’t believe I get you all to myself.”

Your cheeks feel hot. Maybe desire is part of the equation after all.

Leaving your shirt bunched up over your tits, Mitsuri returns to your pussy, petting over your thighs and stroking up your mound. Her index finger dabs into the wetness leaking out of you and then circles around your clit.

Around your clit, not on it. If you didn’t know better, you’d think she’s deliberately not touching the place where you want— need to be touched. Her fingers are light and fluttery, not forceful in the least but making you crave more anyway. You try not to let your hips move, but before long you’re twitching on her fingers, trying to get her to do what you want. Your hands are braced uselessly on the headboard, but you hesitantly pick up your right hand to replace hers and touch your clit properly.

She isn’t having it. Her free hand catches yours before you can do anything. “Arms around my neck,” she tells you.

It’s frustrating to be unable to touch yourself when she just keeps building and building with these little flutters, but you trust her. Mitsuri’s a lot more experienced than you are. Slowly, you wrap your arms around her neck and wind your fingers into her loose hair.

Whatever she’s doing, though, it’s working. Even if you couldn’t feel how wet you are, you’d be able to hear it, the slick sucking sounds of your cunt dampened with your arousal. You’d be humiliated by the way it’s so obvious that you’re turned on if you were cable of thinking straight. Besides, Mitsuri doesn’t mind—at least not judging by the way she’s looking at you.

“Mitsuri…Mitsuri, can you…” You don’t know how to ask her, but you need more.

“Tell me what you want me to do.” Two fingers brush over your clit again and you almost flinch, the light contact sending a spark directly through you. “Tell me what you do when you do this by yourself.”

“I…um…it’s embarrassing…”

“It’s not embarrassing.” Mitsuri lays a short peck on your cheek. “Do you know how pretty you look? I could fall in love with you right now.”

It’s not serious. It’s just the kind of thing Mitsuri says without thinking, but your heart skips a beat anyway. “Touch—a little harder…”

“Where?”

“You know where!” you tell Mitsuri, with as much bite as you can muster.

Mitsuri smiles. “Here?” She pushes a finger into your pussy and you whimper. “Or…here?”

And she’s touching your clit, rubbing over it quickly and franticly, the first direct contact you’ve had since she started. The muscles in your back tense, legs stiffening, toes curling in your fluffy white socks. “Oh— oh, oh, oh— Mitsuri…”

“Does that feel good?”

After all her teasing, it feels more than good. It’s like you’re being filled up with something, some kind of heat that her fingers are bringing out in you, and it’s about to tip over and spill out. You rock your cunt against her fingers, trying to get her to go harder—but she’s already rubbing against you so quickly that you can’t think straight.

Two fingers slip deeper into your pussy, spreading you apart and pumping your slick cunt while her palm provides sloppy stimulation to your clit. You mewl and fall forward onto her, head thrown over her shoulder, so you can feel the vibration of her soft laughter in your chest. “Do you like it? I can tell…you know, your insides are holding me really tight….”

How does she say such dirty things with that pretty mouth? You’d tell her off if you thought you could speak without moaning. “Unff…mmm…”

“I’m going to make you cum, baby,” Mitsuri hums. “You’re going to cum on my fingers, okay?”

She’s right. You’re about to tip over that edge, overflow, get off with Mitsuri fucking you with two fingers twisting and hitting your g-spot and sliding over you so deliciously that you don’t even care that all of this is wrong. “I’m— I’m cumming—“

“Uh-uh.” Mitsuri’s hand stops, still touching but no longer moving, and the heat in your pussy plateaus and then dips.

You’re so frustrated you want to scream. “Mitsuri…!”

“Can you do something for me?” She resumes the teasing movements from before, edging over your clit but not finishing it. “Tell me who you really like.”

“What?”

“I know you like me.” Her free hand, around your waist, slides up and presses her thumb into the divot between two vertebrae in your spine. “When you were talking about your crush, I know it’s me. Tell me you like me.”

“I—I don’t—“

“No, you do. You like me. Say it. Say it, and I’ll let you cum. You want to cum, don’t you? You need it? I’m going to give you what you need, so tell me you like me…”

It’s not like she’s being cruel. Mitsuri’s tone is as sweet and kind and caring as ever. Her pace is agonizingly slow and she’s right, you need it. You’re lucky your chin is resting on her shoulder because you wouldn’t be able to stand it if she saw the look on your face as you choke out, “I like…I like you, Mitsuri! I like you!”

“I like you too, (Y/N),” Mitsuri gasps, and then her fingers are moving again, rubbing your clit, making you crazy, and it’s only a second but you want it so bad that you only need a second before you— you’re— you’re falling apart—

“Mitsuri!”

Oh god. Oh god. It feels good, it feels crazy. You can’t think. You can feel the muscles in your pussy squeezing down intermittently on her fingers. She holds you still as the shocks race up through you, letting you twitch and convulse in her arms.

“See now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Mitsuri sings in your ear.

It takes you a long moment to get the strength to sit up, flopping bonelessly backward on her thighs so you can look her in the eye. “I don’t know,” you sigh finally. “Wasn’t exactly easy.”

Her eyes close when she smiles. “Don’t worry about it. You just need a little more practice.”

#Kanroji Mitsuri x reader #Mitsuri Kanroji x reader #Mitsuri x reader #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #Kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny imagines #kimetsu no yaiba imagines #demon slayer imagines #demon slayer x reader #Kanroji Mitsuri #Mitsuri Kanroji #smut

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chloe-skywalker · 5 years ago

Text

1 Question = 1 Kiss - Stiles Stilinski

Stiles x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 679

Requested: Hiii! I was wondering if you could plz do a Stiles Stilinksi imagine where the reader and him are dating she’s s helping him study and uses the 1 question answered correctly = 1 kiss method and they end up making out. Tysm - ANON

Authors Note: Basically took the title from the request

Masterlist

Teen Wolf Masterlist

******************************************************************

“Stiles! Stop!” Y/n whined annoyed at her boyfriends antics to get out of studying.

“Stop what?” Stiles played coy

Y/n laughed sarcastically “Oh, you know what.”

“No, I don’t think I do. Wanna tell me?” Stiles snarked keeping up with his little innocent act.

Y/n sighed “Stiles, I’m trying to study for our big upcoming test in Econ. Like you should be doing as well.”

“Hmmm” he hummed

“I thought you called me over to help you study.” Y/n raised her eyebrows in question but she still had a smirk on her face.

“I did” Stiles nodded, not lifting his head from sucking a hickey into her neck.

Y/n gasped dramatically “Stiles Stilinski are you just wasting my time?”

Stiles chuckled into where her neck and shoulder meet. “Judging, by the way, your bodies reacting to my advances I’d say no time has been wasted.”

“Stiles!” she squealed wiggling away from him

“Ok, ok.” he conceded raising his hands in surrender

“What if we make a deal?” Y/n sighed hoping that her new idea will work. For her benefit and his.

“Hmm, what kind of deal?” Stiles questioned curiously as to what she might come up with.

“For every question you get right, you’ll get a kiss from me.” she suggested lifting her arms up in the air and dropping them back down dramatically.

Stiles smirked raising an eyebrow in shock “Are you trying to bribe me?”

Y/n nodded with a playful look. Teasing him. “Yes. Do you feel offended now?”

Stiles drained shock, but I’m liking the deal.”

“Then get to work Stilinski.” Y/n snapped her fingers at him. She let out a laugh at how fast Stiles got up and grabbed his back.

“Love it when you take charge.” Stiles leaned over to place a kiss on her cheek as he growled playfully.

Once he sat down and opened the book, Y/n got back to studying now pest free. In the meantime. Although it wasn’t longer than at most maybe 15 minutes later Stiles jumped up off the floor.

“Done.” Stiles exclaimed

“What?” Y/n asked, looking up shocked as hell

“I said, done.” Stiles smiled smugly

Y/n’s mouth dropped in chock. How in the hell did he finish it that fast? “You finished the whole thing.” She stated even though it sounded a lot like a question.

“Yu’p’” Stiles nodded smirking

“All 15?” She questioned in complete shock. Leave it to Stiles to have an intimate reward and get done within a matter of minutes.

“Yes. What don’t believe me?” he placed a hand over his heart. Again pretending to be offended.

“No, no. I’m just shocked.” Y/n shook her head. It’s not that she didn’t believe he could do it, she really did. Just not that fast. “Can I look it over?”

Stiles nodded “Sure.”

“Holy shi-” Y/n started the colorful words but didn’t finish them.

“You did promise some kisses.” Stiles reminded her, rocking on the balls of his feet.

Y/n scoffed “That’s all you need for motivation?”

“Apparently, yes.” he nodded again with a shrug.

“Fine.” she shook her head with a cross between annoyed and an amused smile.

Y/n set her stuff aside and cupped his face. Bringing him closer to her. The two started making out and Stiles got on the bed, kneeling one knee between her legs and the other still on the floor, helping him to push her to lay back.

“What are you doing?” Y/n asked as she felt him start to unbutton her flannel shirt.

“You said a kiss for every question.” Stiles stated

“Yes, and?” she let out a laugh, questioning his actions.

“Well, 15 questions means 15 kisses. We might as well, you know.” he shrugged and winked at her. Obviously suggesting what she thought he was. Not like his father would be home soon. He had just left when she got there earlier.

“Your impossible.” Y/n laughed out but leaned back onto the bed anyway. Smiling at him.

#teen wolf #teenwolf #stiles stilinski #stiles x reader #stiles stilinksi imagine #Stilinski #Stiles #imagines #imagine #x reader #y/n

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internalsealpanic · 5 years ago

Text

The Thorn pt.1

summary: “Please what, Kitten? I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.”

or my 6 thousand word essay on why I want more Sugar daddy!Slade fics.

a/n: This is just straight up smut Never combine stress thirst plus an amazing enabler. Thanks to @littleredwing89 for basically co-writing. Also I need more case fics with undercover gentlemen’s clubs stuff. I will edit this for grammar later.

warnings: mentions of murder and sexual assault (for the case), mirror sex, collars, oral (male receiving), choking, kind of public sex?, size kink (this is to be expected at this point), strength kink, reader is kind of a dumbass, and praise kink.

villain’s masterlist or masterlist

Saying this wasn’t your scene would be like saying the sun is bright. Obvious but wholly inadequate in describing just how out of your depth you are. You cross your arms over your chest in a futile attempt to shield them from prying eyes. The soft fabric of your lingerie feeling too little in contrast to the men clad in expensive suits leering at you as they passed your skittish form.

You try to swallow down the nervousness. You try to tell yourself this is fine, that it’s just for the case. But the silk collar tied tightly around your neck and your own fraying nerves made it extremely difficult to ignore just how vulnerable you felt.

God, what made your awkward ass think you could pull this off?

You lift your head, eyeing the other men and women around you. You all wore matching silk ribbons tied into bows behind your neck, a circular, silver tag hanging off of it. You wrinkle your nose at how young some of them look. Some barely look old enough to be anywhere near a place like this.

Part of you feels thankful that you shut Nicky’s idea down to go with a leather lingerie set but the stark contrast of your lacy lingerie set made you stand out too much in the sea of leather. It made you stand out just enough to color both your cheeks and ears from the amount of attention you were getting. You close your eyes trying to ignore the heat permeating from your skin. You try to focus on the details of the case.

For the last 8 months, there’s been an increase in the number of young men and women going missing and turning up dead. The assumption had been that it was due to the increase in gang activity but something felt off about the deaths.

Nothing was consistent. The victim type, the area, and even the M.O. of sexual assault were varied. Only the mode of death was even close to being consistent but even that presented its own problems. The injuries were too clean, too efficient for the killer to have drawn any pleasure from it especially when contrasted with the victims’ other injuries. Normally people who make those injuries have a certain type and a certain way of doing things. And the clean efficiency of the disposal method had easily ruled out any of the local gangs.

When you brought all of this up to your boss, he waved you off saying something about looking into it. Somehow not getting fired after screaming at your boss (probably because you’re one of the few crime scene techs willing to stay in this shithole), you decide to conduct your own investigation. The more clues you uncovered (out of sheer spite) the more they seemed to point to an organized crime group, likely involved in trafficking.

Finally, after a month and a half of searching, you found a solid lead. Augustus Klineberg. Despite the name, he was new money. At least, here in Merit.

“I’m his type!”

“And so are a dozen bodies laying around in the lab, what’s your point?”

“Sita, got me a part-time job at the Thorn.”

It hadn’t been easy. The thorn was an exclusive gentlemen’s club that specialized in certain kinks. It had taken Sita a week to even get you an interview but after that they eagerly accepted you with worrying enthusiasm. Either way, this conversation was simply a formality.

Bernard stares at you and you watch as his entire being crumples into the dining room table. He turns to his husband pleadingly. “Nicky, Please, my love, talk some sense into her.”

You turn to Nicky who is innocently sipping from his coffee mug filled with whatever ungodly creation came to Bernard in the dead of night. He tilts his head back seemingly collecting the right words. “Y/n has a point.”

“No! Not you too!”

“Yes!”

“Bern, think about it. Klineberg would never suspect her and unlike most of Klineberg’s victims, Y/n is a ninja gremlin.”

Bernard gives him a withering look while you snort. Nicky shrugs and continues to drink his, what you assumed was, liquid crack.

“Y/n, are you sure about this? The Thorn- Well, it isn’t exactly like your other undercover jobs.” You give both of them a cocky smile, biting into your mini waffle. “It can’t be that hard. All I have to do is sit there and look pretty.” At that little remark, Nicky burst out into a fit of laughter loud enough to wake the neighbors.

You run your hand through your hair still, feeling flustered. You need air.

“Hey Nina, I’m gonna need like maybe 5 minutes.”

“Sure, just don’t blame me for whatever excuse I give the bossman,” Nina says, shrugging at you. She flips her red curls over her shoulder, winking at a patron and tilting her hips to show off her curves. Both you and the patron are slack-jawed and entranced. Maybe you should try that sometime? Some time being after you stop gawking at Nina’s ass and probably also after you take in some air.

You shuffle away awkwardly keeping your eyes to the ground. You shrink into yourself easily as you cut through the crowd. This case was going to be the death of you and Bernard’s eulogy would just be a very short but satisfying ‘I told you so’.

Mercifully, you find a quieter area. You would have preferred to go outside but standing alone in a dark alley in skimpy underwear might be a bad idea. You flatten yourself against a wall and close your eyes. Maybe you could tell them you aren’t feeling well which isn’t entirely untrue. You felt sick being this vulnerable. You should probably leave before you do something stupid.

A hand on your wrist drags you back to reality. It takes absolutely everything in you not to break his wrist. You open your eyes to see Klineberg hoovering in your personal space.

“Are you ok?” He asks, the concern in his voice sounding synthetic. You try to wriggle out of his hold not bothering to hide your discomfort. You note how his smile seems to get bigger as you struggled more. Clearly, he was enjoying your discomfort.

“Thanks for finding her for me. The manager said she’d be in this general area but it’s quite hard to see with just one eye.” Slade says casually, settling a large hand on the man’s shoulder. Your heart stops. Of all the people you had to run into-

Klineberg eyes him skeptically. You have to respect him for that. You’ve faced Slade several times before, only making it out due to luck or hours of planning. If you were Klineberg, you’d be pissing yourself. Despite the almost friendly expression Slade had on him, you can tell this wasn’t up for negotiation. And apparently, so can Klineberg seeing how he dropped your hand.

Slade waves a neatly dressed man over. The man eyes you appraisingly and your heart takes an express elevator to your throat. Were you that obviously out of place?

“We’ll be taking a room.”

“Of course, sir,” The man answers politely, finally, taking his eyes off of you and handing Slade a key.

Wait. We?

Slade starts walking without a word, the crowd parting for him easily. You briefly look back at Klineberg who is still looking at you like he’s going to tear you apart with his bare hands before following Slade.

You walk behind him wordlessly. Your mind is still reeling from the fact that Slade ‘Deathstroke: The Terminator’ Wilson just saved you from your target and your own terrible acting and is mortified by the fact that he has now seen you in skimpy lingerie. The steps you take are measured, making sure to stick close to him but not too close. You keep your eyes to the ground as you walk behind him, hoping it’s enough to hide the expressions cycling through your face.

You two enter a room. It was unexpectedly spacious even under the dim neon lights. You look around finding the room furnished with expensive decorations looking nothing like the seedy gentlemen’s clubs you’ve busted before save for the pole in the middle of the room. It looked more akin to an expensive hotel bar, again, save for the pole. The darkness of the room and the quiet flow of the music set quite the intimate atmosphere which just made you that more skittish.

Slade makes his way across the room, eyes searching the corners and spaces of the room. He nods seemingly satisfied with the setup and likely not spotting any recording devices. Your stiff shoulders loosen a bit, if nothing else you could at least speak plainly now.

Slade takes his suit jacket off, revealing broad shoulders and the outline of strong back muscles. Your throat dries. Something warm stirs in you and you’re gawking again. God, you really need a better reaction to attractive people.

Slade holds out a glass of whiskey to you, a playful smile on his handsome face. He doesn’t seem to mind you staring at him. You swear viciously not skimping on colorful words but walk over to take the alcohol regardless. It’s on his tab and you honestly needed some alcohol in your system if you’re going to talk to him.

“So, working for the cops not work out for you?”

“Nah, my last sugar daddy just kicked the bucket, so I’m looking for a new one,” you say, giving Slade a wry smile. You watch him cross one leg over another easing into a relaxed position through the wall. It was polished to a mirror shine. You guess that’s the kind of thing rich people liked.

“Hmmm, that can be arranged.” You choke on your drink. You scowl at him. He simply shrugs at you taking a sip of his whiskey.

You hear the door open, forcing you to pretend to be civil. A man around your age, dressed in a classic waiter’s outfit comes in with a tray of whiskey and two glasses. You don’t know how but you can tell the whiskey is worth more than your apartment. This doesn’t help your urge to punch Slade.

“Will you be requiring any special toys tonight, sir?” The straightforward tone of the question makes you stiffen more than anything. The man’s eyes flicker towards you but his focus remains squarely on Slade who eyes you openly before smiling and saying “No, thanks, Anthony. I think we’ll be just fine.”

"If you say so, sir. Please feel free to let us know if you need anything."

You wait for Anthony to leave before turning the full force of your scowl at Slade.“How the hell did you know his name?”

Slade regards you impassively over the rim of his glass. You refuse to break eye contact. He raises his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, Kitten, you caught me. I do frequent this club quite a bit.”

“You kinky shit.”

He eyes you again, his eye clearly tracing your curves. “I’m not the one sitting here in their underwear with a collar on. Speaking of which-” Slade nods his head towards something in front of both of you.

You look at the pole, blinking dumbly as a smile spreads across his face. He tips his head to it. “I did pay for your time and the customer is always right.”

Your mouth twists into a snarl as the tips of your ears run red. “You are insufferable.”

“Don’t make me call the manager.” You sigh at the unspoken ‘it is definitely going to blow your cover and get you shot. At best.’ and begrudgingly you make your way to the pole.

You grip the pole in front of you, flexing your fingers against the cold metal. Anxiety thrums under your skin. Your eyes flick nervously to Slade who’s got the audacity to sit comfortably, sip whiskey, and smirk at you as if he was completely in his element.

“No need to be shy. Be a good girl and give us a good show,” he says, winking at you. Your hackles rise and your face pulls into a frown before rearranging itself into a sultry smile. You put one heel in front of you, hooking your leg around the pole and grinding your clothed sex into the metal in an undulating motion that has Slade clenching his hand around his glass. You try your hardest to grin and you suspect you’ve failed. Not that Slade’s noticed considering his eye is laser-focused on your ass.

With your one leg on the floor, you push yourself into a spin. Your body tips back as your hand runs down your face, chest, and abdomen drawing attention to the plains of exposed skin and delicate fabric accenting your shape. Pulling your body back up, you let your body slide down to the floor. Your legs split as soon as you made contact with the floor giving him a full view of your ass. He whistles appreciatively, tilting his head. You watch him through thick lashes, eyes bright and predatory under the neon lights. You roll onto your hand and knees. He smiles down at you watching the sweat drip down the valley of your breasts. You were a sight to behold.

Slade pats his knee. “Come here, kitten.” Hunger flashes in his blue eye. It sends a warm shock through your system. It’s odd being looked at like that but you can’t feel yourself getting too concerned over it. Not when it sends a pleasant hum through your mind.

You crawl towards him in time with the movement, slow and steady in its place. Stopping in front of him. A large hand grasps your chin, thumb brushing against your bottom lip.

You sit on his lap, hand grasping his broad shoulder. Embarrassment floods back into your system now that you’re this close, now that you had the full force of that hungry gaze on you. You feel your skin heat and the weight of his gaze makes your stomach flip.

Seduction was other people’s gig, not yours.

Large hands settle on your waist, pressing circles into your skin. The buzzing feeling in your brain returns and you refocus on your task. His hands slide down the side of your body, fingers digging into your hips. His hands follow the circular motions your hips make on his crotch and guides you over the growing bulge. You hear his breath catch and hiss as you grind down on his crotch. You wrap your hands around the silk tie dangling from his neck and roughly pull him into a kiss.

His fingers dig into the meat of your ass drawing an embarrassingly loud yelp from you and giving him access to your mouth. You suck on his tongue and receive a pleased groan from him. Your tongues wrestle for control as he kneads your ass, making you mewl and moan into the kiss. You break the kiss needing air while Slade admires his work.

When Slade dips in for another kiss, you pull away pushing off of his broad chest a flirty smile dancing across your features. You turn from him, heels clicking against the floor as your show off the lushness of your figure. In the mirror, you see Slade settling back into his position and grinning at the corners of the room again. His arms relax on the back of the couch.

You close your eyes and let the music swallow you whole. You don’t dare hazard a glance at the mirror. You sashay your hips to the music, loosening your tense muscles. You open your eyes giving Slade your best seductive smile. You run your hands up your body, tangling into your hair.

You bite your lip as you slide them back down. Your fingers catch against the collar. Slade’s mouth twists.

You ease your arms out of your bra and let it drop to the floor. Your nipples pebble in the cold night air. The sight of them makes the corners of Slade’s mouth twitch. You push past the warmth stirring in your stomach in favor of trailing your hands down your body. Your fingers toy with the straps of your panties, watching as Slade licks his lips in anticipation. You slide the flimsy garment down your legs, bending over and giving him a good view of your wet pussy through the mirror.

Stepping out of them, you toss them at Slade, who just to be an asshole, catches and pockets them. He grins at you and shrugs unapologetically. You scowl at him putting as much venom into your features as much as possible.

You sway your lush hips in time with the music, letting the slow beat dictate the rhythm of your movements as you saunter towards him. You swallow, the silk collar still wound tightly around your neck. The intensity of his gaze makes you painfully aware of your nakedness but the embarrassment heating your skin shoots straight to your core, making you shudder.

Reaching him, you straddle his thighs, your plump ass grazing over his growing bulge. You moan, mouth-watering at the sensation. Your mind dwells on the feeling, your insides growing slick at the thought of him inside you.

Your fingers trail up your thighs and up over your stomach. You watch as his eye follows the slow tantalizing movement. His large hands grip onto the plush headrest of the couch, squeezing them as his face twists just a smidge with a mix of exertion and frustration.

You give him a playful smile as you slow the gyrating of your hips. A growl rumbles from his chest and you snap your hips back against his erection, the loose movement of your body hypnotic like ocean waves. Tipping your head back into his shoulder, exposing the column of your throat to him. Your hips continue to undulate against him, feeling the deep bass of the music ripple through your body along with the shockwaves of heat coming from your core as you grind it against his bulge. The coarse feeling of the fabric against your core making your knees grow weak.

A sinful moan tumbles out of your lips followed closely by breathy panting. You let your eyes slide shut soaking up the sensation of his suit against your skin. You reach behind you hooking your arms around Slade’s broad shoulders to steady yourself as your press closer to his large form. He presses his lips to your neck, the prickle of his beard against your skin making you shiver. “Yeah, just like that, kitten,” he murmurs against your skin, a large hand settling on your thigh.

You push further into him. You grind your hips, the movement deep and slow. Your hand tangles in his hair, gently guiding him to your lips. Your lips move against each other just as your bodies do, slow and sensual. You catch his lips between your teeth, nipping at it. He chuckles at your invitation, sliding his tongue inside your mouth and joining your lips once again. Below you, you feel another large hand hook onto your thigh. Both hands grip your thighs fiercely pulling them further apart, exposing your sopping pussy to the cold night air.

Slade breaks away from your kiss, his panting breaths hot fanning your face. You stare at each other with half-lidded eyes, lust bright in them even in the low light. He captures your lips again in a quick kiss before planting one on your shoulder. “Play with yourself,” he says, the command steady and rough against your ear.

The tone of his voice makes you shiver as you reluctantly release your hold on his shoulders. Keeping one hand tangled in his hair, you slowly slide your hand down your body, mewling into his skin when you reach into your neglected folds. You slip two fingers in immediately. You shudder and bite your lips trying to stop any obscene sounds from escaping.

A hand tilts your chin, coaxing you. “Good girl, look at yourself. Look just how wet you are just for me, kitten,” Slade says, nibbling at your ear. You yelp, your hips bucking into your hand, ass rolling against his member. You watch yourself in the mirror red-faced, open-mouthed, and sinful. Your dripping sex is in full view only obscured by your hand as your fingers dip in and out of your core. Slade’s eye never leaves the mirror even as he plants kisses against your skin. His large hand grasps your neck making sure you don’t look away from the mirror. You think of how easily he could break you and you feel like you’re on fire.

You're so close. You’re so so close. You can even see the desperation carving itself so plainly on your face. Anxiety and arousal mix into a potent cocktail in your gut. The nervousness from earlier rearing its ugly head. You whine in frustration, adding in a third finger but you can’t seem to reach over the edge. You hear him chuckle behind you and see him grin into your skin. At least, one of you was having fun.

He gives your shoulder another rough kiss, leaving a mark before speaking. “Having some trouble, kitten?” You wrinkle your nose at his tone but...in truth, you were. You bite your lip not knowing what to say. You’re so close but… the venue made you shy and that was an entirely different problem. Using the hand on your neck, Slade tilts your head towards him, the heat from his lips ghosting over yours. “All you have to do is ask for help, kitten,” he murmurs against your lips. The vibrations send another shockwave of desperation wreaking havoc throughout your already oversensitive body.

He tilts your head back to look at the mirror. You can feel your ears warm at the thought of begging but you’re a hair’s breadth away from your end. Biting your lips and furrowing your brow, you take a steadying breath but it still comes out breathy when you exhale due to the hand squeezing your thigh drifting closer to your core. He presses slow circles into your inner thigh with his thumb, his teeth nibbling at your shoulder leaving marks. A vicious curse leaves your lips blunted by a moan that follows it.

“Slade, please. Please. Sir, please.”

“Please what, Kitten? I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.”

You tighten your grip on his hair and roll your hips against his. He growls in your ear but he doesn’t budge. “Use your words, kitten,” he commands, sounding far more patient than he actually is. You whimper, rocking against him. He holds you still, fingers digging into your flesh and body leaning into yours. “Words.”

You pant, hot breaths loud in your ears. Whether it was his or your own you were hearing, you didn’t know and didn’t care, not when your head was jumbled with the buzzing under your skin. You swallow. His eye following the movement of your throat and the silver glint of your tag winking at you in the mirror. “Slade- Sir, please- Please, I need you. I need you inside me.”

“That wasn’t too hard now was it?” He says capturing your lips in a rough kiss. You scream against his lips when you feel two large calloused fingers thrust into your core, stretching you replacing the ache in your core with a burning stretch. Slade releases you, steadying you so that your eyes are once again on the mirror. You both watch as his fingers pump in and out of you, the room filling up with your moans. “Keep your eyes on the mirror and watch as I make you cum.”

He presses his thumb against your clit. The syllables of his name coming out garbled and incoherent. You cum with a whimper. Your body shakes uncontrollably, your bones melting. Your lungs take in greedy gulps of oxygen feeling like the wind’s been knocked out of them. Slade lets your head lull back against his shoulder. You press little kisses against the powerful muscles of his neck. “Thank you, sir.”

Slade removes his fingers from your pussy, leaving you feeling empty. “Clean up the mess you made,” he orders, pressing wet fingers against your lips. You open your mouth letting them in. You slide your eyes shut and swirl your tongue around them. You bob your head taking them in deep. You moan, rocking your hips against his still hard cock, letting yourself imagine what it would be like to take him into your mouth. Your enthusiasm earns you a hiss from Slade. You smile as you continue to suck on his fingers and rock your body, the fire in the pit of your stomach reigniting. You flutter your eyes open. In the mirror, you see Slade, brow raised and mouth wrangled into a shape of wry amusement. “See, I knew you were a good girl,” he says voice strained. You grind your ass into him as you moan around his fingers. You gasp when a rough hand grasps your breast, nipple pinched between calloused fingers.

“Are you that hungry for my cock, kitten?” he asks, removing his fingers from your lips. Both your lips and his fingers glisten with your saliva. You nod not trusting your voice to be steady. He thankfully accepts it.

“Well, have at it,” he says, hands repositioning themselves on the back of the couch easing into a more relaxed position and looking as smug as humanly possible. He really is getting his money’s worth out of this. You shift your body making sure you brush up against his erect member as you did so. He looks almost pained when you finally face him. You drag your hands up and down his shirt, his muscles barely hidden by the soft silky material. You lick your lips, catching your bottom lip between your teeth. You slide yourself down his body, hands kneading and worshipping every stretch of muscle they come across. Fuck, they feel so good to your touch.

Getting to your knees, you rest your cheek against his knee. You let mischief shape your features. He quirks his brow at you, tilting his strong jaw urging you to move on. You massage his thighs as you pull yourself up. You undo his belt tossing it to the side. You pinch the zipper of his pants between your teeth and pull it down, grinning as you do it. Slade lifts his hips a bit to help you ease his pants and boxers down. Your mouth waters visibly when his cock springs free in all its glory. You gulp audibly as you figure the logistics of fitting all of it into your mouth.

“Take your time, Kitten. I’ve requested you for the whole night. We have time.” He drawls, smug. You roll your eyes at him finally deciding that head-on was the only way to tackle this. You lick a strip up his member paying special attention to the large vein running down the middle. You flick your eyes up to him, seeing his muscles tense. You grasp the base of his cock tight in your hand, kissing the tip and giving the slit a long, languid lick. The taste of precum wakes your taste buds. You hum, sucking lightly at the head, your hand twisting up and down his cock. His jaw tightens, the strain of keeping his hips still tightening the muscles of his thighs.

You spread your legs wide as you sink your head down taking him in and giving him a good view of your wet pussy. You take him in as far as you can, gagging when the head of his cock hits the back of your throat. The corners of your eyes sting with tears. You still yourself, letting your throat relax around him. You pull yourself back up. Your plush lips massage his length as you go and your warm hand not trailing far behind. You keep your mouth on the head of his cock before sinking back down. His sheer girth is sure to make your jaw ache but you couldn’t make yourself care, not when you’re growing wetter the more you worship his cock. Slade for his part looked like he was gonna tear the couch apart every time you sank down to take is cock on, the fluttering walls of your throat driving him up the wall. The soft music of the room was now barely audible against the mingling sounds of your moans. Slade’s unrestrained voice was dripped with whiskey and sin.

His cock twitches in your throat and it’s the only warning you get before cum splashes against the back of your throat and fills your mouth. You choke but when your eyes meet his, the muscles of your throat work automatically to swallow his load. The movement followed closely by his eye. You pull back, light-headed. He grabs your chin, tilting it up to inspect your mouth. He hums satisfied. “Kitten, that mouth of yours is definitely worth more than the price of admission.” He says brushing a thumb against your bottom lip as you pant.

A familiar ache in your core returns when your eyes land on Slade’s still hardened cock.

“Of course, a little cockslut like you wouldn’t be satisfied ‘til you’ve been filled,” he chuckles pulling you into his lap so that you’re facing the mirror, your dripping pussy hovering over his saliva covered cock. The throbbing head teasing against your sensitive folds. He kisses your shoulder, his teeth pinching your skin leaving another red bruise. You whine as he guides your hips, moving them to ever so slightly brush your core against his cock.

“Sir, please. I need you. I- I need you to fuck me,” you beg, hands tangling in his hair and eyes watching his member in pained hunger. You sound so needy but you also needed him inside you filling you up.

Slade hums in your ear approvingly. He pinches your ear lobe between his teeth, making you keen. “Well, since you asked so nicely.” That was the only warning you got before his hands guide your hips down onto his engorged cock. Your walls flutter with every inch, stretching you with every inch. A hand cups your breast while he continues to guide you down onto his cock. Rough calloused fingers knead your breast as he whispers compliments into your skin in between kisses. The cacophony of sensations is almost too much for you.

“Such a good cockslut, look at how well that tight cunt of yours is taking me in.” You roll your hips, urging him to quicken his maddeningly slow pace. He simply chuckles at your attempt as both his hands steady your hips. You almost cry in relief when he finally bottoms out. You pant savoring the burning stretch tearing at your insides. Pleasure and pain mingling in your sense.

Slade rests his chin against your shoulder, lips pressed to the shell of your ear. “Kitten, I want to watch you fuck yourself on my cock,” he says, in a low commanding tone making you shiver and leaving no room for arguments. You grip on to his arms, nails digging into the meat of his muscle, to steady yourself. You lean forward to get yourself into a better angle.

Ah ah ah

Breathy moans and the slap of skin against skin filled the air as you roll your hips against his. You watch yourself in the mirror, breasts bouncing, mouth hanging open, and tongue lolling out getting lost in the pleasure. The mixture of shadow and light highlighting and isolating the frantic need carving itself onto both of your faces. The coil in your stomach twists as your eyes meet his in the mirror. Icy blues trailing up and down your body possessively.

His hand wraps around your throat, squeezing it gently as he trails kisses up your spine. Your hips stutter, your walls squeezing around his cock. “You like that?” he whispers into your ear, putting just the tiniest bit more pressure around your neck. You feel your walls flutter around him and he moans in your ear. His other hand squeezes at your hip, nails digging into your soft flesh.

With a growl, he snaps his hips against yours almost violent in its intensity. You let out a loud yelp. Slade jackhammers into you like a madman, pummeling your pussy. His tongue dragging against your sweat-covered skin. “Cum with me, Kitten,” he grinds out, nipping at your ear. Your pussy clenches and unclenches around him trying to squeeze his cock, gripping him as if not wanting to let go of it. He bites a hickey into your neck and you feel the coil in your stomach burst. You feel a flood of warmth fill your aching core as Slade lets himself go.

He turns your body around to face him, careful not to separate you two. He pulls you into a deep kiss as both of you ride out your orgasms.

Your body slumps against Slade’s, head resting on his shoulder and chest pressing against his. Your breaths come out in puffs fanning against his neck. Slade presses a kiss to your forehead. You yawn and kiss his throat, his pulse hot against your lips.

“Satisfied?” he asks, pulling your wrist to his lips nipping and leaving marks on it. You wonder just how many marks he’s left on you and if he’s technically allowed to do that. It just seems bad for business.

“Yes, sir,” you answer, nuzzling into his shoulder. He chuckles, rubbing his large hands soothingly over your aching muscles. He holds you tenderly for a while, both of you basking in the afterglow.

Through thick lashes, you see Slade look at his watch. You whine when he starts to shift. Wrapping your arms around him, you press your body closer. You see his brow wrinkle and have to bite your cheek to stop yourself from smiling. Sucker.

Slade gives you another kiss as he reluctantly extricates himself from your warmth. You shiver at the motion. Your oversensitive walls flutter making him groan. You whimper at the feeling of emptiness as he gently places you on the soft cushions of the couch. He places another kiss on your forehead then your shoulder then your wrist as he drapes his jacket over you. “Sorry, kitten, I have some business I need to take care of,” he says tucking himself back into his pants. “But if you feel like a repeat performance, feel free to come back,” he continues, fixing his shirt as he grins down at you. Your stomach flips despite how tired you feel.

You watch him walk away then stop. “Oh and I’ll be keeping these,” he teases, holding up your panties and tucking them back into his pocket. You try to sit up intent on throwing the entire bottle of whiskey at him but your limbs fail you, still feeling like jelly.

The next time you open your eyes is when you feel someone patting your cheek lightly.

“March,” Anthony’s voice comes out in a haze. It takes a second for your mind to recognize the name as your alias. You take a deep breath trying to quell the panic from being woken up.

“What time is it?”

“A quarter past one.”

Good, you’ve only been asleep for an hour.

“Thanks.”

“You’re pretty lucky. Looks like Mr. Wilson was feeling generous,” Anthony laughs, thumb pointing to the stack of cash by the whiskey.

That asshole.

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Thanks for reading!

a/n: This will be a 3 part series because I am thirsty as hell.

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

#Slade Wilson #slade wilson x reader #slade wilson smut #slade wilson imagine #dc smut

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