#until they drift apart and when they meet again the same spark isn’t there | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tecceran · 13 days ago

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ough hi, red unit has some of my favs (and i got carried away thinking about yellow unit) so i’m going to throw some ideas out and see if you like any!

(your first three ideas are all super banger and fun!!)

[quick tldrs from after i wrote out my big ideas:]

yellow:

shizuku gets shiho to try performing as an idol with her to convince herself to not quit being and idol and to try to reconnect shiho’s passion to music that she lost focus with after leo/need drifted apart. tsukasa wanted to try to bring back saki’s supposed lost spark after she’s released from the hospital and sees becoming an idol as a perfect was to do it. in sekai, seeing the kagamines initially seem to be super close and synchronized siblings, they all feel a pressure to become more like them as better siblings. eventually tsukasa and shizuku will have to learn that saki and shiho want to walk new and different paths, which those two respectively have to find for themselves after they’ve become disillusioned.

red:

honami walks through vivid street on the way home from kanade’s and is captivated by akito and ena unleashing all their emotions and frustrations through a singing battle. she’s inspired to try singing herself as a way to deal with all her bottled up feelings from being bullied and pushing away her childhood friends. she goes to the school rooftop to be alone and to sing, but her attempt is quickly interrupted by minori coming to the roof for her idol practice. honami’s voice fails when in front of another person, but minori encourages her to not give up (like minori isn’t giving up on becoming an idol) and so the two agree to keep meeting on the rooftop at lunches until they can both achieve their goal. they coincidently get untitled-warped at the same time as akito and ena, and in sekai they all join together to become a group dedicated to reminding everyone that the sun will always rise again (an extension of minori’s goal of spreading hope / not giving up + akito wanting to put on a show that will be more powerful than rad weekend)

uhhhh yellow unit time:

it could be kinda cool for the yellow unit to actually grow from a more energetic and in your face style to a more introspective one. both tsukasa and shiho are going to want to start out with lots of energy excitement and power and will probably drag saki and shizuku along.

let’s say shiho has been struggling to find a place for herself with music again after leo/need drifted apart and with shizuku wanting to step down from being an idol, she decides to try a few shows with herself and shiho. to both try to convince herself that she wants to remain and idol and to try to bring shiho closer yo her and get her back into just having fun with music with some classic happy-go-lucky idol songs!!

shiho’s willing to try it, and so they end up running into the tenma right as tsukasa transports them to sekai. rin and len are there and they seem like they get along so well! they’re practically in sync! tsukasa and shizuku look at this and say “i want to connect with my younger sibling like that!” saki and shiho look at this and go “i guess siblings should get along like that. i have to learn to connect with them.”

so they all make the plan to become an idol group together. we’re going to get back saki’s spark, rekindle shiho’s passion for music, shizuku’s going to find joy in being an idol again and we’re all going to get really close to our sibling because that’s what we should do!

and right out the gate tsukasa wants happy upbeat idol songs. we are cheering every up. energy energy energy! saki’s a little lost in what she wants and shizuku pretty used to the style, so that’s what they go with. through their story they have to learn both that the “old saki” isn’t “coming back” like they hope. the style isn’t really want shiho likes best. they shift and grow to that softer, introspective style i mentioned before. not completely gone from your classic idol songs, but maybe working in more of leo/need’s softer songs (think ikanaide, glow, heartbeat). i think you want to see two styles emerging as tsukasa and shizuku learn that they have to let their little sisters grow apart from them. yes this does make the unit somewhat destined to spilt. unfortunately i love me some tragic siblings.

red unit, go!

OK, red unit! i didn’t think i’d have much for yellow unit and then i did. someone this became very honami focused? there’s a “rise as one but ena’s there instead of rui” joke to be made here but idk what it is

i think to get red unit together you want to pull a bit of a kohane and say honami is walking home through vivid street after working at kanade’s when she encounters akito and ena going at it performing on the street. they are letting all their frustrations at each other and the world out and it resonates with honami. she’s a people pleaser and it’s backfired for her, backing her into a corner. but she’s never had the courage to stand up for herself. the most she could do was push saki and ichika away to keep them out of the hole she’s dug for herself. but something about watching the shinonomes unleash everything they have inside them through song resonates.

it lingers with her, so much so that she’s the last member of the crowd standing after akito and ena have finished and packed up their equipment. they’re fairly pleasant with her, having just vented out their frustrations, asking if there was a reason she was still standing there watching. honami panics at this point and blurts out a question of when and where they’ll be performing again. at this point i imagine the shinonomes are just running out every night picking the first good spot they can find, so they can’t give her a great answer.

honami quickly ends the conversation and gets out of there, but of course she can’t get it out of her head. the next day at school she decides to head up to the roof during lunch. she had to make an excuse to get away from her friends, which she hated, but the performance the previous night gave her some newfound strength. she wants to try singing like them and this was the best place she could thinking of to be alone. she turns on the music, and starts to sing. it’s quiet and has none of the power she felt the night before, but she’s doing it.

until minori comes through the door to the roof and her voice dies in her throat. honami didn’t think she needed to perform in front of others before, but in that moment she realised that unconsciously, her song was what she wanted to say to her bullies AND that she did not have it in her to say it in front of someone random like minori, much less to her bullies’ faces.

she once again is ready to wallow in her defeat, walk back down to her friends and tell them that actually her schedule cleared up. nothing changed.

but minori stops her before she can. minori just wants to apologise for interrupting honami, she always comes up here for idol practice you see, and there’s never been anyone up here before. minori’s been practicing forever. it’s her dream to become and idol like her hero, so she can spread the same message of hope that once given to her. she’s been rejected a bunch, but she’s never giving to give up and– oh hey, honami’s crying.

minori gets honami to tell her whole story and how honami’s felt trapped and stifled but she doesn’t know what to do bc even if they’re hurting her, she just wants to spare everyone else pain like she feels.

and so minori tells honami not to give up. maybe if the bullies just understand how honami feels, it’ll get better! so she encourages honami to pick a new song and she can practice singing in front of minori while minori does idol practice until they’re both ready to achieve there goals. and minori’s been struggling in math, so honami can just say she’s giving minori some tutoring so honami’s friends will understand why she’s not around.

but when honami goes to pick a new song, hey what’s this? oh, it’s untitled and they get transported to sekai! and coincidentally akito and ena were also scoping out songs at lunch (ena does day school or whatever) and found untitled too.

and there’s the usual confusion. wait that’s literally actually meiko. what was that light? how did we get here? where is here? who are you? oh wait it’s you from the performance the other night. actually that’s like the least important question.

but minori wants to help honami best she can so without really thinking she just explains what’s going on with honami. honami is super embarrassed but in true vivid street fashion, akito hands honami a mic and is like “let’s see what you got.” meiko decides to allow it. she’s got more faith in honami than honami does in herself. minori proclaims that she’s going to back honami up. ena joins akito as well.

akito starts. doesn’t go all out, just poses a challenge. he’s testing the waters. then minori. she’s not used to singing battles, but she brings a lot of enthusiasm. and ena, not one to follow her little brother’s lead, decides to bring her a-game right at honami. but it’s still an invitation, a call to action.

and when honami’s turn comes to sing, she looks to meiko, and something in meiko’s assured glance gives honami that little bit of courage to at least try. and she starts slow and shaky, but once she starts letting things flow, it becomes a deluge of emotions and she brings power. and for what it’s worth, akito and ena are impressed. they want to sing more, and they’re willing to invite honami and minori along. the sun rises above the horizon line in their sekai for the first time, and honami and the shinonomes feel a sense of peace.

minori, however, is even more hyped, and talks about how she wants to put on inspiring performances just like that to give people the strength to never give up when she becomes and idol. and idk ena is like “why do you have to be an official idol why don’t you just do what we do and perform indie” or whatever and yada yada they decide to group up to help minori achieve her goal and help honami stand up to her bullies along the way. akito’s still surpassing-rad-weekend-pilled, and ena’s inspired to stand up to their father with her singing now or something. idk. fireworks.

skyshuffle [PRSK april fools shuffle unit set in color order!]

Card sets and lore under the cut! 🔽

notes to start:

all the groups are idol groups with different goals and subgenres! mostly I just don't like coming up with new musical performance genres bc they always run too close to what already exists, and also I'm an idol fan by trade, so it's just easier for me to think of. I did try and avoid outright copying any of the existing units' concepts because I think that's boring LOL but some of them did end up running a little close anyway, despite me making them all idol groups to avoid that. oh well.

this was inspired by this super cute fanart series from twitter drawing all the Blue characters together, and I got super inspired to make similar groups for the rest of the cast. (unfortunately i had to split the blues in half </3 too many. blue domination.)

the Sekais for these units are also linked! I imagine in-game that they're in related/interlocking pockets of the overall dimension, and that breaking through them would be either the end of the April Fools event, or a year 4/5 end to their running storylines.

here they are, in reverse order, for reasons that will become apparent.

pink: ⓢⓤⓟⓔⓡⓛⓘⓜⓘⓝⓐⓛ

Luka, Emu, Kanade, Airi, Kohane; the Dusk Sekai

superliminal evolved from the same theater program as in·di·GO (below!), after emu failed to secure funding for it to continue. she is faced with an overwhelming sense of everything ending, but buries her feelings behind a smile.

kohane, naturally, is a big fan of the limited-run theater program, and to her surprise so is fallen idol airi, who she vaguely knows from school but has never approached before. the storylies weaving into music are something that has made airi feel a bit less bitter (that the industry that chewed her up can still make art that means something). kanade visited the show on its very last night via a hospital program giving her free tickets (which honami lightly forced her to use) and fell in love with the way music along with a story could move her more than just music alone.

together at dusk after the program's very last showing - all people left in the wake of other peoples' dreams - they fall in typical Untitled fashion into the dreamscape of the Dusk Sekai and eventually resolve to carry forward their feelings of quiet yearning, the feelings of liminal spaces and forgotten places, and honor them just as much as the louder ones. in doing so, they start a series of popup shows in strange and mysterious locations, often unannounced or teased with ARG-like social media posts, and with a much stranger and harder to follow storyline (for the diehards). this evolves into a very strange idol career for the group, all aiming to inspire conflicting and difficult to name emotions, and to leave a safe space for them to be kept.

blue/purple: in·di·GO

KAITO, Toya, Mafuyu, Rui, Mizuki; the Midnight Sekai

in·di·GO are ~night time~ idols, vtubers with extensive in-universe lore. like niigo, but for extroverts!

their group evolved from the same program as superliminal. it was an interactive musical theater / escape room program with long-running and evolving storylines that Rui was running out of Phoenix Wonderland. Rui looped in Toya early, knowing from school his classical background and having a Directorial Hunch that he was a talented composer and one able to adapt to the genre-spanning and improvisational needs of the show. a late-night escapee Mafuyu falls into the world of the theater program after sneaking out of home late one night, and quickly becomes a regular fixture once she realises that putting on a mask deliberately (in order to roleplay within the safe improv of the shows) starts to ease something held very tight in her chest.

before long the theater program was sadly closed, but the characters became so beloved that even after their run people searched for more content of them. inspired by the fans' persistence, Rui asks Mizuki for help, knowing her experience of online communities and graphic design. together with Toya and Mafuyu, who has long since graduated from dedicated follower to cast member, they pooled their knowlege together and created Vtubers for the original characters, adding one for Mizuki to perform with as well.

Rui manages the tech and backend for the vtubers, as well as managing any AR concerts they put on. Toya provides music and together with Mafuyu works on the storyline and character motivations as things evolve. Mizuki manages their social media and crafts intricate storytelling and lore videos, with Toya and Mizuki both keeping tabs on different areas of the fanbase to see how things are being recieved.

for Mafuyu, being able to become someone else, but of her own volition this time, becomes a safety net, and a way to explore emotions and express herself while keeping her true self safe. and for the others, the group becomes something similar, as well as a way to look out for the forgotten fans of the original theater production: carving out a space for night owls, oddities, and those who can't wear their true face in public.

blue: unlimitedSKY

Miku, Nene, Haruka, An, Ichika; the Blue Sky Sekai

an idol group centered around the "search" for something; this is more of an extended metaphor in terms of their idol work, but each of the members also has someone or something that they yearn for and strive to find, as of yet without success.

haruka convinced an to try idoling with her due to her apparently endless search to find a partner. the setup is similar to vbs wl2, in which kohane never overcame her shyness in order to take such a bombastic stage as vivid street requires; an never gave up on trying to win her back, but with haruka's encouragement decided to try and inspire her lost partner in a new way. she tries to see becoming an idol as another vector of achieving their shared dream.

haruka, while more tight-lipped about her dream, is in search of the figure from her fes card, and has braved the idol world again despite what happened with ASRUN in order to try and find them, and to inspire and protect others along the way, in the same way her hero did for her.

nene retains her fraught relationship with the stage, and is trying to build a different relationship with performing in order to reach the heights inspired by the mermaid performance she saw as a kid. in becoming an idol, she's trying exposure therapy while avoiding musical theater itself; getting stage experience while trying to stay as far from what she knows (and what triggers her) as possible.

ichika became an idol in search of miku - yeah. lol. - but specifically in search of a way to understand and express her emotions in the same way miku evokes in her. she longs to be able to understand her own feelings in a way that lets her release them in her voice, the same way miku can be a conduit for her own and others' feelings.

the group comes together when haruka becomes stuck ruminating, on feeling like she's unable to help her friends the way she is, and can't get rid of the nagging thought that she once had everything she wanted and just couldn't hold onto it. on a whim, she invites an to sing with her at karaoke, and an's vivid-street-given ability to pull feelings out of her opponent in singing/combat not only overwhelms the room's soundproofing and somehow involves innocent bystanders (nene and ichika, who were there by complete coincidence), but also unlocks something in haruka and an both. a shared knowlege of the feelings of frustration that come with having an open sky visible end-to-end and room to go in any direction you want, but still feeling like there's something beyond it that eludes you; wanting something that is by definition unreachable or invisible.

unlimitedSKY coalesces around that feeling, and aims to give not only themselves the strength to reach into infinity, to believe that not even the the sky is the limit, but their fans as well.

yellow: twin//tails

Rin & Len, Tsukasa, Saki, Shiho, Shizuku; the Daylight Sekai

twintails, obviously, has a twin & sibling theme; this incarnation of the Kagamines are explicitly twins (compared to VBS's partners and the other more ambiguous versions), and the storylines revolve around what it means to support each other as family. i slightly cheated to switch nene and shizuku here so i could make this happen, because their two colors are so borderline. but i actually like how nene looks with the more saturated group anyway tbh and pairing nenean is always funny

despite being a yellow group, their arc color is more of a yellow-green, and comes to symbolise new life, growth, and budding emotion - shizuku learning to let shiho grow, even if that means growing away from her, extends into a full metaphor & growth vector for all the sibling pairs as their storyline progesses.

Tsukasa retains his Tsukasa-Isms, given that their childhood inciting incident at the musical remains unchanged, but things take a slightly different turn when Saki leaves the hospital and doesn't seem to bounce back the whole way immediately (*this is normal actually). she loves his attempts to cheer her up, but seems happiest when things are just normal. scrounging for ideas, he takes her to an idol concert instead, where Saki mentions idly that it'd be nice to sing like that. Aha! thinks Tsukasa. He takes out his phone and starts googling How To Make Sister Idol?, and whoopsiee presses a song called Untitled and whoopsiee Shizuku got both her and Shiho lost after the show and ended up bumping into them right as they were going in--! (I couldn't think of any better ideas at this point. if anyone has suggestions for these last two, please shoot! the connections are sparse between the cast of these last two groups)

red: BREAK→DAY

MEIKO, Honami, Akito, Minori, Ena; the Daybreak Sekai

the unit of Whole Assing Your Dreams, Fuckers!

sunrise -> lantern/light theme -> light in the darkness -> emphasis on fighting for life and the fact that dawn WILL always come if you are stubborn enough.

this tenacity is what binds together both the shinonomes learning to use their clashes for good, as well as minori and honami learning to take charge of their own lives despite their setbacks and strive for what they want earnestly and aggressively (when required!)

i imagine the inciting incident here is Akito, in the absence of running into Toya by chance, still wavering on whether he wants his goal enough to commit to it. then him being challenged by Ena, who declares she'll just have to beat him at singing if he's going to be such a little weenie about it. they strike up a rivalry, for the first time having somewhere to direct all of the energy they waste sniping at each other, and peace somehow miraculously reigns in the shinonome household.

aaand somehow minori and honami get involved and it becomes an idol thing. i really don't know how at this point because honami has no idea who any of these people are pre-canon and even now only really knows ena lmao.

i had to swap the color order of the units so that people reading this from the top would still think i'm cool for at least the first half....

give me ideas if you have them!!!!!!!!!! i really like these units and i want to tumble dry them in my mind some more, but also it's way more fun to think of things with others.

#i cannot explain concepts briefly sorry this got so long #i however was inspired by the color theming and i just like coming up with stuff #tech.speaking #tech.reblogging

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inkykeiji · 5 years ago

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do i make you scared? baby won’t you take me back

characters: dabi | todoroki touya, shigaraki tomura

genre: smut with a bit of angst sprinkled over it

notes: the second part of a companion piece to i can take you there but baby you won’t make it back. i’m really not kidding when i say this is almost entirely smut. uhhh virgin!tomura is a nasty nasty boy, please please please heed the warnings and stay safe! <3 | title credit: save that shit by lil peep

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), non-consensual branding (yes, branding in the sense that something is being burned into the skin), noncon/dubcon, dacryphilia, cheating, degradation/dumbification, emotional manipulation, cumplay/snowballing, cockwarming, size difference, generally toxic relationships

words: 7.1k

synopsis:

“Was it good?” he seethes, eyes narrowed sharply. You think you might be able to detect a hint of distress sown into his voice, but you have no time to meditate on the thought as he yanks again, pulling your head back further. “Was it worth it?”

Glistening tears stream down your cheeks and you exhale harshly through your nose, teeth gritted as you urgently try to stop crying.

“Fucking answer me,” he growls out the words, but he sounds almost…desperate? You’ve never heard his voice like this before, and it’s then that it finally dawns on you.

You got him back.

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

To your surprise, you spend the rest of your night the day after the party texting Tomura, and every time your screen lights up with a message from him, it sends a whole flock of butterflies fluttering in your tummy. You should feel guilty, really, but you’ve never been in a situation like this before and it’s…exhilarating.

It’s risky, answering these texts when Touya’s a mere few feet from you, but it sends sparks shooting up your spine, the idea of getting caught doing something you’re definitely not supposed to, the very thought of how upset he’d be if he knew, making you feel giddy.

You guard your phone closely for the rest of the week, deleting messages exactly after you send them—Touya has taken it and gone through it in the past, so it wasn’t far-fetched to think he may try to do the same thing again. It wasn’t like he didn’t notice your nose in your phone, little giggles bubbling up from your chest as you responded to whatever was on the screen. You can see it in his eyes, the frustration building each and every time a soft laugh escapes your lips, eyes glimmering as you tap out a response.

You plan your impending visit strategically, in tandem with Tomura. He knows Touya’s unpredictable and seemingly ever-changing schedule better than you do, and you both know that there’s absolutely no way in hell Touya would ever willingly let you hang out with each other—he barely leaves the two of you alone when Tomura comes over to your house, so you can only imagine how livid he’d be if you even asked to go spend some time with him, just the two of you.

You wear your prettiest dress—Touya’s favourite dress, a deep, satiny crimson—two inches too short to be considered proper, the hem brushing your midthigh. It hides a pair of baby pink cotton panties you’re sure Tomura will like.

Your veins thrum with the combined mix of terror and anticipation as he lets you in, and the heady combination has your entire body trembling. Tomura gives you a look as you kick your shoes off, eyes narrowed as they scan your body.

“You comin’ down or something?”

“I-I’m not allowed drugs,” you admit meekly, eyes falling to your feet, toes wiggling a bit.

Tomura snorts, an amused little smirk on his lips as he mutters, “No, of course not,”

Long, slender fingers wrap around your wrist, his cold touch making you jump, giving a slight yank as he begins leading you. He lives alone, in an apartment his father pays for—which is surprisingly much tidier than you expected—and you can’t help but look around curiously, eager to learn more about him, glazed eyes searching for hints in the empty takeout containers littering the counter, in the few articles of clothing strewn around the place.

Brows knit together when he bypasses his bedroom completely—the door wide open to reveal a large bed with blue sheets tangled at the bottom—and leads you to a living room with plush couches and an ornate rug you’re positive he didn’t pick out by himself. His fingers release, and he plops down on the floor, hands curling around a gaming controller. Scarlet eyes drift to you, up your legs and to your face, and you resist the urge to shiver under his intense gaze—you’re sure he can see straight up your dress from this angle.

But he does nothing except look at you expectantly, not breaking his stare until you finally sit down next to him, daintily tucking your knees under yourself.

Then he’s shoving an extra controller at you almost aggressively, the sudden motion pulling a gasp from your throat, making you flinch away.

“Relax,” he rolls his eyes, pushing the controller at you again and shaking it a little in his hand, trying to entice you to take it. “I’m not gonna hurt you, or anything,”

“You…You’re—what?”

Tomura observes you carefully, scrutinizing now, eyes narrowing a little as they scan your face. You stare back at him dumbly, lips slightly parted. “What?” he snaps.

“But I thought—I mean, I want you to—”

“What?”

“That came out wrong,” you rush to say, shutting your eyes tightly in embarrassment. “What I mean is…Um, didn’t I come over so we can like, fuck?” your cheeks burn as you force the words out, ears ringing as blood rushes to your face, so loud you almost miss his sharp intake of breath.

Tomura’s eyes widen and he stares at you for a long moment before he checks his phone, scrolling through your messages. “You said…You wanted to play video games?”

You look at him, blinking in astonishment. “And you believed that?”

Tomura frowns a little, eyebrows knitting, slightly defensive. “Well, yeah?”

You’re at a loss for words as you stare back at the man sitting cross-legged in front of you, watching you closely. This is the guy Touya so desperately didn’t want you to be around?

Powerless to stop the little giggle that bubbles up in your throat, you inch towards him on your knees. “You’re kinda cute, y’know?”

Soft notes of tiger orchid and sweet sticky toffee waft over him, your body heat clinging to his skin as you settle beside him, thigh touching his knee. He seethes at you, and his fingers twitch around the controller, a hand moving to rake his nails against his neck.

You reach out, little fingers wrapping around his wrist and pulling it away from his flesh.

“Do you want to?” you ask softly, gazing at him through your lashes, bringing his palm to rest over your breast.

“Are you stupid?” he spits, fingers instantly tightening the moment they meet satin, the strength of his grip making you gasp. “Of course I fucking want to. Do you know how many times I’ve jerked off to you? Christ,”

Warmth blossoms in your chest at the confession, sparking a dull heat that begins to spread deep in the pit of your stomach. You’re flattered, even though you can hear Touya’s voice in the back of your mind, sharp and condescending, reprimanding you for being so easy.

“Yeah? What did you think about?” Your voice quivers a little as you ask the question, but that doesn’t stop his ruby eyes from darkening, his free hand dropping the controller to shamelessly rub at the bulge in his jeans.

“How cute your little cunt must be, how sweet it’d taste, how good those lips would feel wrapped around my cock as I fuck your throat,” his voice drops an octave as he speaks, low and dangerous as he kneads your breast hard—too hard, but adrenaline keeps the pain from registering.

He’s reaching for you now, pale hands pawing at your hips and dragging you over, forcing you to straddle his lap. A soft whimper falls from your lips as he instantly begins rolling his hips up, like he can’t bear to wait, fingers digging into your flesh as they hold you in place.

Neither can you, apparently, because you begin wiggling a little in his grasp, trying in vain to rut against him.

“You’re a little whore, huh? Even with a virgin, you can’t help but grind on a hard cock,” he smirks, lips at your ear. “A hard cock’s a hard cock I guess, makes no difference to you, greedy little slut,”

A mewl escapes your throat as you nod, hips pushing forcefully against his, grinding your little cunt against rough denim.

Wait, virgin?

“A v-virgin?”

“Yeah, lucky you,”

His words taper off into a growl, vibrating in his chest, hands leaving your waist to cup your jaw and roughly pull your face to his, lips crashing into yours. You emit a soft, startled noise into his mouth, and he swallows it greedily, tongue forcing its way through your parted lips and into your mouth, commanding your own tongue into submission almost instantaneously.

It’s nothing like kissing Touya. Your body follows your tongue, melting into him. Fingers grip your jaw, pressing crescent indents into the skin as he guides your head to exactly where he wants it to go.

It isn’t romantic. It’s harsh, and desperate, a mess of teeth and tongues fighting for dominance. A hand tangles in your hair and pulls, forcing your head back and revealing your arched neck to him. His lips trail down the column of your throat, leaving wet, sloppy kisses in their wake.

“I wanna fuck you already,” he whines a little, aggressively thrusting against your clothed core. You moan out an affirmative noise, nodding.

“One rule,” you breathe out.

“Hmm? And what’s that?” his lips are against your neck, tongue painting it in glistening saliva with slow, languid strokes.

“No marks,” you yelp out just as his teeth sink into your skin. It stings, Tomura keeping his mouth latched onto your neck for a few seconds, teeth buried in the soft flesh. His tongue laves over the mark before pulling away completely, and a shiver crawls up your spine as the bite is exposed to the cool air.

He’s giggling into your shoulder, nipping at the skin superficially. “Oops,”

“Tomura!” you whine, making no effort to pull his lips from your neck. “Touya’s going to murder me,”

He laughs again, pulling back and rolling his eyes. “And, what? He isn’t already going to kill you for fucking someone else?”

There isn’t a moment to respond, though, not a second to try and explain how weird Touya gets about marks in particular, because then he’s crushing his lips to yours again, hard, fervent, bruising.

“Gonna cum soon if you don’t fucking do something,” he practically snarls into your mouth.

The very thought of Tomura cumming in his pants just from a few minutes of dry humping makes your entire stomach flutter, a flash of pure confidence surging in your chest as involuntary words tumble from your mouth.

“Oh?” you murmur, breath hot against his lips. “Something? Like this?” you begin gyrating your hips in tiny, quick circles, giggling at the groan you rip from his throat.

And Tomura hates how fucking innocent you sound, gazing at him with glassy eyes and swollen lips and a sinful little smile.

“Stop,” it’s supposed to be a command, an order, but it comes out as a broken whine, his hands latching onto your hips again as he forces you to move even faster, rocking into you.

“Doesn’t feel like you want me to stop,” you pout a little and he huffs out a curse.

It’s intoxicating, to be in a position of power like this. It isn’t your favourite—you’re much too shy and indecisive to be in a role like this all the time—but the novelty of it excites you nonetheless. Touya never lets you do anything like this, hates being teased with a passion, but Tomura seems to enjoy it, like it’s some sort of game to him.

“Little bitch,” he breathes out, though his forehead is resting against yours, eyes shut, soft grunts spilling from his throat.

“C’mon, Tomura,” you whimper, and now it sounds like you’re the one begging. “Make a mess in your pants for me? P-Pretty please?”

That’s all it takes to have his hips stilling, fingers pressing bruises into your skin as he grips you tightly, holding you in place and forcing you to grind against him ever-so-slightly as his cock throbs and twitches in his jeans.

You expect him to push you off immediately after, to shout and berate you for such behaviour, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leans back against the bottom of the couch, arms encircling your waist and bringing you with him.

It must be uncomfortable, to sit in those soiled jeans filled with cum, but he doesn’t seem to care, more interested in exploring your mouth with his tongue as you kiss lazily. You don’t mind, although your clit is aching and swollen, pussy fluttering around nothing every so often as his fingers explore your body, kneading your ass and tweaking nipples, your panties soaked all the way through and sticking to you unpleasantly.

And it’s due to this that your hips still manage to rock against his in minuscule movements that are more teasing than anything else, little micro-circles that have your drenched cunt grinding gently against wet denim.

It seems he has an impossibly short refraction period because, before long, his cock’s hard again, pressing up into your clothed hole. You whimper his name into his mouth and he breaks the kiss, lips red and puffy, shining with saliva.

“Take my cock out,” he instructs, voice stern despite his slight breathlessness. You crawl off his lap and do as your told, popping the button, tugging the zipper down and pulling at the waistband of his jeans. He lifts his hips just enough to aid you in dragging them down to his thighs, cock springing free.

“Clean it up,”

It’s covered in cum, so much cum—too much cum, more than is normal—glistening in the low light of the living room. It twitches a little under your gaze, as if to say get on with it already, so you wrap a hand around the base and bring the head to your lips.

You start with kitten licks, tongue tracing around the head and playing with the slit, pulling a deep, throaty moan from him.

“Don’t—Don’t swallow it,” he rasps. “Clean me up and keep all my cum in your mouth,”

It’s difficult—his cum is much more bitter than Touya’s, and you gag a few times as it settles on your tongue, marinating in your mouth. You try your best to hold it in your cheeks and away from your tastebuds, working as quickly as possible as you lap it up, gazing up at him with teary eyes when you’re finished.

“What a good girl,” he spits in a patronizing tone, like it’s an insult. “Kiss me,”

It’s a demand you have no choice but to obey, a hand rooting in your hair and yanking you up to face him.

He all but smashes your lips together, fingers still wrapped tightly in your hair, holding you in place. His tongue forces its way through your lips and you greet it eagerly, desperate to get his cum out of your mouth.

Except he doesn’t let you pull away after you’ve passed the majority of his cum to him, the bitter taste still stinging your tongue. No, he uses the fist tangled in your hair to keep you still as he shoves his tongue into your mouth again, transferring the cum—now watered down a little with his saliva—into the warm cavern yet again.

You whine, and he chuckles, lips spreading into a grin against yours.

“Swallow it,” he whispers, pulling back just enough to watch your expression as you force it down your throat, face souring, eyes squeezed shut as your lips pucker just a little. “Open, lemme see,”

Your mouth falls open obediently, little droplets of water clinging to your lashes as you gaze up at him, waiting for approval.

“Good,” he practically purrs, eyes darkening as his fingers caress your face. “Now I want to fuck you,”

You’re nodding, but he doesn’t give you a moment to respond, beginning to manhandle you into the position he wants before he’s even finished speaking. The oriental rug is soft against your cheek as he presses your face to the ground, hands curling around your hips as he hoists them up.

“What cute little panties,” he breathes, dragging a finger along your clothed slit before yanking the material down to your knees.

It stings a little as he practically shoves his cock into your sopping cunt, not bothering to stretch you out—you’re not even sure if he knows he’s supposed to—but you’re wet enough that the breach is relatively easy, and the burning fades quickly as your little hole adjusts to the girth of his cock.

He begins thrusting immediately, and he’s rough, overeager, uncoordinated, the vicious snaps of his hips uneven and sloppy.

Truthfully, he’s only using you as a hole the first time, but you don’t mind—not really, anyway. Blazing sapphire sears through your mind, and you think about how furious Touya would be if he knew, if he could see the way you’re degrading yourself, letting yourself be reduced to nothing but a fucktoy for a nasty virgin to desperately hump away at, sacrificing your own pleasure for his.

Touya would never.

To Touya, making you cum is half the fun. He gets a rush from it, gets high off the way you go absolutely fucking stupid from his fingers and cock, how quickly he can turn your brain to soup, rendering you a dumb little blabbering mess only capable of whining out the words niichan and Touya-nii. It feeds his ever-growing ego.

But Tomura is eager to please in a different way. He’s more selfish than Touya, sure, but he’s keen to learn all he can, curious and committed.

And, once he finally gets the hang of it, confident, too.

His thrusts gain more finesse as he fucks you, but he’s unable to keep up any steady rhythm, the tight fluttering of your pussy every time he grazes a specific spot inside of you making his hips stutter, forcing needy, guttural groans from his throat.

He cums quick—not that you expect any less from a virgin—with a deep growl of your name that has your stomach swooping, cunt throbbing around him again as he fills you with thick, burning cum.

You’re exhausted by the end of it, abused body melting into the lush carpet as your cunt throbs desperately, his cum slowly oozing out of it. Tomura snorts as he looks down at you, gentle hands tugging your panties down the rest of your legs and removing them completely, discarding them a few feet away.

“Up you go,” he’s murmuring as hands snake under your armpits and haul you up. You mumble his name and he hushes you, collapsing heavily on the couch with you still in his arms. Strong hands manhandle you into straddling his lap again, leaking pussy pressed against his softening cock.

The television hums to life, quiet main menu music floating through the room as the soft clicking of buttons sounds behind you.

You should go home now. You know you should. You’ve done what you came here to do, and now you should be leaving.

Should, should, should.

But Tomura’s so warm, and you’re so tired, muscles aching despite the fact that he did most of the work.

“Rest,” he instructs quietly when you begin to whine into his neck, fingers preoccupied with unwrapping a piece of watermelon bubblegum.

He’s so much softer than you expected—disgusting, but soft—and you can’t believe you spent months being terrified of him. You know this is probably the last time you’ll be able to see him in a long time—a fact that produces an inexplicable ache deep in your chest—so you allow yourself bask in the moment, just for a little, you promise yourself.

You obey his gentle command, snuggling up against him and permitting yourself to drift in and out of consciousness to the sound of aliens being killed and aggressive button smashing.

But then something hard is poking you—you aren’t sure how long you’ve been sitting here for now, long enough for Tomura to power through a few matches, at least—and that blistering heat flares again, beginning to coil tight in your tummy.

You shift a little, an involuntary whine slipping from your lips.

“What is it?” Tomura asks, eyes never straying from the screen, fingers never pausing. “You wanna sit on my cock, baby?”

Christ, yes. You mumble into his shoulder, nodding and rolling your hips in response.

He chuckles—a low, quiet sound rattling around in his chest—and allows you to sink down on him again, captivated by the soft moan you emit as you do so, crimson eyes gleaming and breathing slightly laboured.

“Ah, fuck,” he mutters when his avatar on the screen gets shot, redirecting his attention.

And it’s…it’s nice. Surprisingly nice. He’s cozy, and comfy, his breathing slow and even with every rise of his chest, despite the alien shrieks coming from the TV behind you. He smells like cheap cigarettes and artificial watermelon with just a hint of cedarwood, and you inhale deeply, letting the scent fill your lungs.

Touya rarely lets you cockwarm him; Touya doesn’t have the patience, Touya doesn’t have the time. You fall into a state halfway between asleep and awake, hips rocking against Tomura just enough to keep him hard, just enough to have you whimpering into his neck.

He could get used to this, he tells you. The confession is soft, a private little thought that just kinda slips out, mindlessly falling from his lips, but you could, too, you think.

It’s intimate, which is odd, considering you barely know him, used to be frightened of him. But it’s such a refreshing contrast to Touya’s intense, scalding flame.

Eventually, though, it isn’t enough, the teasing’s too much, and you need more.

Gazing up at him with glittering eyes, you begin to trail your lips up his neck, over his self-inflicted scars, slowly, hesitantly.

He inhales sharply, jumping a little in surprise, and you freeze, terrified you might’ve overstepped some invisible boundary you were not previously aware of.

“Keep going,” he whines, a little petulantly, hips wiggling against yours.

Lips resuming their ministrations, you place gentle, chaste kisses up the column of his throat and along his jaw, delighting in each soft sigh you manage to pull from him. The game playing on the TV suddenly halts, Tomura throwing the controller on the couch cushion next to you before large hands cup your face in a tender way you did not think him capable of.

Your mouths slot together, kissing messily, saliva glistening on your chins as you pass his watermelon gum back and forth between yourselves. It’s kinda gross, kinda filthy, juvenile and sloppy, but it’s fun, has the two of you giggling into each other’s mouths, a little breathless from it all.

“Wanna ride you,” you murmur, almost shyly, against his slippery lips.

“Yeah?” he rasps, just barely bouncing you in his lap. “You wanna use my cock to get off?”

“Yes, please,” the plead comes out as a pathetic whimper, and you squirm impatiently.

Finally, finally you get to cum. In this position, you have leverage over the angle of your hips, able to situate yourself just right, so his cockhead nudges exactly where you want it to.

He does nothing this time, just leans back and watches you with those dark, half-lidded scarlet eyes, hands idly exploring your thighs, occasionally raking his nails down them. He’s in a trance as he gazes at you, mesmerized by the way your eyes are starting to roll back, by the way each drag of his cock against that spot has you keening, by the way his name leaves your lips in broken little whines that have him gasping in response.

Your hips speed up, and you’re desperate, so desperate to cum, nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders through his thin t-shirt.

“Gonna—” he starts, breathless. “Gonna cum?”

You nod a little frantically as eager hips rock against him, his hands finally finding your waist and helping you move.

“Please,” he whimpers. “Wanna feel you,”

And it’s his begging that does it, that finally sends you over the edge, pussy clenching around him, convulsing almost painfully and gushing on his cock with a sharp cry of his name. He follows immediately after, painting your insides with hot cum as a curse hitches in his chest.

Your body collapses against him, going pliant and boneless as you both pant. Everything feels heavy—you haven’t had an orgasm that intense in a while—and the absolute last thing you want to do is get up and walk home.

Tomura can sense it. He can feel it in the way your fingers are knotting in his t-shirt, in the way your hips try to scoot forward, chest pressed against his tightly, and he wraps an arm around you, trying to keep you close for just a minute more.

Silence blankets the room as the two of you calm your breathing. You’ve been anticipating a certain sense of awkwardness to finally wash over you all night, but it never comes. Instead, it’s pleasant, and you hum a little, nuzzling your face into Tomura’s shoulder as skinny fingers brush through your hair.

“I don’t wanna go,” you say, and it’s so quiet, muffled by the material of his shirt, that he barely hears it. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to.

“Just stay,” he mumbles, resting his chin atop your head. “Text your dad some bullshit, or whatever,”

You want to. You’re surprised at how much you desperately want to.

“Touya will kill me,”

“Touya’s gonna kill ya either way, sweetheart,”

You suppose that’s true. Neither of you tricked yourselves into thinking that you’d actually get away with this. Touya will know the moment he sees you, will probably be able to smell Tomura all over you, but you can’t seem to find it in yourself to care, not in that moment, not when Tomura’s so comfy and you’re so sleepy and it’s all just nice.

Good, you think. It’s about time he gets a taste of how much stuff like this hurts.

And so you find yourself crawling into his bed, in one of his t-shirts, with bruises in the shape of his fingertips rapidly blossoming, heat seeping into your cheeks when he tells you he thinks you look cute in his clothes.

He latches onto you the moment you’ve settled into his mattress, long arms encircling your waist and dragging you towards him. One of your legs slots between his, and you have to stifle a giggle.

��Hard again, Tomura?”

“Shut up,” he says, no heat to his voice. “Can’t help it,”

His words echo your own, three simple words you’ve said so many times to Touya, and you feel a pang in your chest.

“Not my fault you’re too hot,” he continues, grumbling into your neck.

Honestly, you didn’t peg him as a cuddler, and maybe he isn’t—maybe he just wants to grind and hump against your thigh—but you welcome the warmth of his body nonetheless.

It doesn’t bother you, although it probably should, as he ruts against you, tiny broken moans and high, breathy whines being exhaled against your neck. But it’s so new, all of this is so new to you, and curiosity clouds your better judgement. While you’re pretty sure you should be shoving him away, reprimanding him for such behaviour, positive that’s what any normal person would do, you don’t. Little fingers thread in his hair instead, carding through silvery-blue fluffy tufts, reveling in the groan it pulls from him.

It doesn’t take long for him to cum, thick and sticky in his boxers, the material wet against your thigh. You’re impressed, both by how easily he cums, and how much he cums. You want to tell him, want to tease him about it a little, let him know you think it’s cute, but heavy, hazy fatigue begins to wash over you, and you fall asleep to Tomura’s soft breaths mingled with the sound of you phone buzzing, over and over and over again.

✰ ✰ ✰

Your phone’s dead when you wake sometime in the early afternoon, and for that, you’re thankful. Anxiety floods your stomach, bubbling up in your chest acidly as you think about what’ll be waiting for you when you recharge it.

Tomura walks you to the door, which you find to be very odd behaviour, but sweet nonetheless, and watches carefully as you slip on your shoes.

“Uh, text me later, okay?” He sounds unsure for the first time since you’ve been with him, and your expression softens.

“I will, if Touya doesn’t take my phone away,”

And you pretend to miss the look on his face, the way his eyebrows knit as a hand comes to scratch idly at his neck, the way he looks almost worried. It’s fine. You’ll be fine.

✰ ✰ ✰

He knows. The moment you step foot through the front door, he knows.

You knew he would, but it doesn’t make the glare scathing your skin any less terrifying.

He’s on you in an instant—you didn’t even know humans could move that fast—pinning you to the drywall, large hands wrapped around your wrists and forcing them above your head, keeping you trapped.

“You little slut,”

Unexpected anger flares in your chest, even though tears are already beginning to collect in your eyes, and you squirm in his grasp.

“I fuck one other person, and I’m the slut?”

You gasp the moment the words leave your lips, wide eyes searching his face and shaking your head frantically, would slap your hands over your mouth if they weren’t currently secured in his bruising grip against the wall.

The look he gives you is absolutely petrifying, blue eyes darker than the ocean—so dark they almost look black—his stare cold and hard as stone, sending sharp spikes of ice up your spine.

“You fucking reek of him,” he spits, face screwing up in disgust. You’re sure you do, too, after spending a good twelve hours in his bed, almost positive you can smell him in your hair, the remnants of cheap cigarettes and artificial watermelon clinging to you.

Patronizing eyes rake over you, zeroing in on the violet that’s bloomed on your neck. His nostrils flare as he stares at it, breath beginning to come in rapid, uneven huffs. His eyes slowly drift back to yours, an unreadable expression settling on his face.

It’s shock, and disbelief, and rage, and…and sadness? It passes too quickly for you to even tell, and then he’s pulling your wrists down callously, still gathered in his hand, and dragging you towards his room.

He all but throws you on his bed face first, breathing harsh and erratic as he exhales forcefully through his nose and climbs on top of you, knees on either side of your thighs. A large hand wraps itself in your hair and tugs, forcing your upper body to arch.

Glistening tears stream down your cheeks and you exhale harshly through your nose, teeth gritted as you urgently try to stop crying.

“Fucking answer me,” he growls out the words, but he sounds almost…desperate? You’ve never heard his voice like this before, and it’s then that it finally dawns on you.

You got him back. Sure, he’s furious beyond belief, looks like he could kill you right here, right now, with his bare fucking hands—but he’s also extremely upset, if the slight quiver present in his voice is any indication.

“Yes,” you wheeze out. If it made him feel even an ounce of the emotional turmoil he’s put you through with his whores, then yes, it was absolutely worth it.

“You’re going to regret saying that,” his voice is low, threatening, calm. It’s disturbing, how quickly he can switch, and a chill of unease settles deep in your bones—once Touya stops with his growls and snarls, once his voice becomes monotonous and almost serene in a way, that’s when you know he’s really angry.

Shoving your head down into the mattress, he tells you to stay fucking put as he gets up and wanders over to his desk. He returns to the bed moments later with a tool that vaguely resembles a pen, hand tangling in your hair again as he pulls you up.

“You know what this is?”

You shake your head as best you can.

“It’s a soldering iron,” his voice is still composed and collected, sounding almost as if he’s explaining something to a child, but there’s a malevolent glint in his eye, a look you’ve never seen before. “It gets really, really hot. I just so happened to be warming one on my desk,”

He says it so nonchalantly, as if this is an object one would regularly keep in their bedroom or on their desk.

“It’s not supposed to be used on skin,” he shrugs a little, twirling the tool between his fingers. “But today, I think we’ll make an exception,”

“What?”

“Head down, ass up,” he instructs sternly, pushing your head into his pillows.

“Touya, wait—” you start, the rest of your sentence muffled by the sheets. His hand gives one firm shove—a warning to stay down—and then he begins shuffling around on the bed.

Careful to keep your cheek pressed hard against the pillow, you turn your head just enough to speak.

“Wh-What are you doing?” Your voice is trembling, thick with tears, dense anxiety building in your chest.

“I’m going to burn my name into your pretty little ass,” he responds simply as he positions himself behind you, yanking your panties midway down your thighs and sitting back on his heels. “A nice, pretty, permanent mark so you, and everyone else, never forget who you fucking belong to,”

“No!” you gasp, beginning to lift your head only to have him force it back into the pillow with a snarl. “No, Tou—niichan, I-I’ll do anything, please—”

“No, no, no, baby,” he says over your senseless babbling, voice almost gentle, thumb caressing your silky skin. “Don’t squirm, now,” he chides. “If you squirm, my hand might slip, and I might burn other parts of your body. We don’t want that, do we? Be a good girl for niichan and sit still,”

And so you do. You should feel ashamed, pathetic, revolted that he’s able to manipulate you so easily, that he knows exactly how to turn you into putty to be molded and shaped as he pleases, even when he’s about to sear his name into your skin.

It burns unlike anything you’ve ever felt before as he carefully carves his name into the supple flesh, saying the letters out loud as he does so. It’s a unique, stinging-stabbing type of pure agony, one that sends sharp pain radiating up to your lower back and down your thigh.

Fingers curl in his dark sheets as you sob into his bed—chest-wracking sobs that have your entire body trembling, chest-wracking sobs that you so desperately try to hold back and swallow, to stay still, to be good for your niichan. Touya tells you to be happy, be grateful, that the temperature of his iron goes up so high.

“Otherwise, I would’ve had to go over it several times in order to make it really stick,”

It’s over quickly, though, a mere fifteen minutes later and he’s cleaning it with rubbing alcohol and gently taping thick gauze over it and uses this opportunity to take your panties off entirely.

“Good girl,” he praises as he hoists you up, manhandling you to straddle his spread thighs, careful of your now very sensitive bottom. “You did so good for niichan,”

And you can’t stand the way your heart weakly flutters at his praise. You can’t stand the way you instinctually bury your head in his chest, tiny fists forming in the material of his t-shirt as you wail, can’t stand the way he is still the only one you want comforting you.

His cock is hard through his jeans, and you can feel it pressing into your core as he shifts a little under you. It’s humiliating, but you’re powerless to stop your hips from moving in subtle little circles, grinding your cunt against the rough denim. And he lets you do it for a little, too, tender fingers petting your hair as he soothes your sobs, taming them to little sniffles and hiccups.

“Niichan’s gonna fuck you now, okay?” he asks softly, murmuring against your scalp, voice almost sickly sweet.

It takes you a moment to respond, eventually nodding your head.

A smirk spreads across his lips and he instructs you to get up, tapping the side of your thigh.

You lift yourself, walking back on your knees and giving him enough room to free his aching cock from the confines of his jeans before his hands find your hips again, dragging you back.

“Baby,” he breathes as his fingers spread your folds, his eyes darkening in a manner much different than before. “Already wet for me?”

Cheeks burning with shame, you nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck, whimpering a little as he pushes a finger into you.

“Don’t tell me,” he gasps tauntingly, voice dripping with artificial surprise. “You didn’t like being branded, did you?”

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head quickly. No, it wasn’t the branding that did it—not really, anyway. It was the aftercare. It was Touya’s cold hands gently tending to your injured bottom, Touya pulling you into his lap as he praised you and dropped kisses to the crown of your head, Touya getting hard from the punishment, from permanently searing his name into your flesh.

You should be disgusted with yourself, with how eager you are, hips wiggling a little only a few moments later as you whine out softly, “Niichan, cock,”

“Impatient,” he huffs. “Don’t get bratty with me now, you were doing so well,”

A pout forms on your face, still hidden in his shoulder.

“Jus’ want it so bad,” you mumble against him, beginning to slur your words. “Please, Touya-nii?”

He hums to himself, makes you beg just a little bit more, reveling in the way your voice begins to get desperate, all high and needy as you try to fuck yourself on his fingers, whimpering and begging with pathetic little please, niichan?’s.

“Is this how you want it? Huh? Wanna ride niichan?”

Mewling a little, you nod, rolling your hips into his palm.

“Words, sweetheart,”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “W-Wanna ride you,”

Finally, he gives it to you, lets you sink down on his cock, watching the way you wince as it stretches you, expression contradicted by your soft moans.

He forces you to begin bouncing immediately, doesn’t allow you to set the pace—he never does—smirking at those little pained cries spilling from your throat, though whether they’re because his cock or the five letters freshly burned into your skin, he isn’t sure. Maybe both; probably both.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, tone condescending. “Does it hurt?”

“Yeah,” you whimper, the threat of tears stinging your eyes.

“Yeah? Yeah?” his voice mimics yours, pitched high and whiny. “I bet it fucking does,”

A hand travels down to grope your ass—specifically, the cheek with the brand—squeezing hard as fingers dig into your skin. You cry out, tears finally leaking from your eyes, chest hitching as you sob out, “Touya-nii,”

“Don’t ever do something like that again,” he says in your ear, voice low and dangerous. “Don’t you ever go fuck another man because you’re mad at me, do you understand?”

Heat begins to coil tightly in your stomach at his smooth, dark voice. “Y-Yes,”

“Promise me,” he growls, grip tightening on your ass.

“I promise,” you’re weeping as he gives one more harsh squeeze, pain scorching through your backside, a loud yelp escaping your lips.

“Bet his cock didn’t feel as good as mine,” he sneers in your ear, panting a little. “Wasn’t as big as mine, didn’t fill you up the way mine does,”

“No, no, no,” you’re chanting in time with his thrusts, eyes rolling back in your head.

“Probably could—” a low groan cuts him off as your pussy flutters around him. “Could never make you cum the way I do,”

A loud whine rips from your throat, your head nodding as he continues his relentless thrusts up into you, never once faltering. Adrenaline and endorphins rush through your veins, high off the heady mixture of pleasure and pain.

“N-Niichan,” you gasp, nails digging into his flesh through the material of his thin t-shirt. “Niichan,”

“Gonna cum? Hmm? Gonna make a mess all over niichan’s cock?” he’s asking breathlessly, slamming into you at a rapid pace and using his thighs for more leverage, hands gripping your hips.

“Uh-huh,”

“Do it, then,” he commands hoarsely. “Cum on your niichan’s cock,”

And you do, helplessly, incapable of disobeying a direct order, creaming so hard your vision blanks for a second, overwhelmed by the extreme, potent mix of pain and pleasure crashing over you.

“Who do you belong to?” Touya’s nearly keening now, hips jackhammering, making your body twitch and shudder with every sharp thrust into your sensitive pussy.

“You,”

“Tell me again,”

“I belong to you, niichan,”

And those five simple words—those five simple words have him cumming hard, hips stilling and cockhead pressed firmly against your cervix, filling your cute little cunt with his seed as broken curses fall from his lips.

You’re both panting, covered in a thin, sheen layer of sweat, your hair sticking to your face and little droplets of tears still glistening on your lash line. He all but collapses back against the bed, taking you with him, cock still buried inside of you.

“And I’m yours,” he whispers into your hair, hugging you tightly—too tightly—to his heaving chest. “I’m yours,”

Laying in his arms, in his bed, with his name burned into your ass, you wonder if you’re destined to play this game for the rest of your lives.

He’s yours.

Are you stuck with him now, forever?

He’s yours.

Will you every get married? Ever get the chance to date someone else?

He’s yours.

Do you even want to?

Laying in his arms, in his bed, with his name burned into your ass, knowing he’s yours, do you even want any of that?

No. With your head resting against his chest, rising and falling with his gentle breaths, slender fingers combing through your sweaty hair, you realize that this is all you want.

He’s yours, and you’re his, and that is enough.

#dabi x reader #dabi smut #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki smut #dabi #todoroki touya #no of course i didn't get the brand idea from jackass #what are u talking about #this tomura is uhhhh v different from break my bones tomura #ehehe he's kinda soft but also rly disgusting???#yucky yucky boi #i will DIE with that rich boy shig hc #tw pseudo-incest #tw noncon/dubcon #tw branding #tw dacryphilia #tw degradation #tw cheating #tw toxic relationship

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outercrasis · 4 years ago

Text

Sessions

Pairing: College!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Mature (18+)

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: References to sex, masturbation (nothing actually occurs)

Summary: After meeting Mando, you just can’t seem to get him out of your head. (events directly follow Introductions)

A/N: Thanks for the kind reception to the first post of this AU! I’ll be making a masterlist soon for easier navigation :) Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future posts or if I’ve missed a warning.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Lingering Impressions

Your day ended up being an exhausting one. Mando had been your most exciting session for more reasons than just the obvious. You'd reviewed the papers of two freshmen, a junior who wanted you to basically write their paper for them, and another graduate student who disregarded every suggestion you made. Needless to say, Mando's gratitude felt extra special after all of that.

Getting home, you're greeted with the welcome smell of something delicious coming from the kitchen as you throw yourself face-first into the couch. The open floorplan of your tiny two bedroom apartment allows Layla to spot you as you wander in.

"Hello to you too!" she calls over. "I'm making chicken marsala."

You lift your head up from the watermelon-shaped throw pillow to smile at her. "You are a saint and I don't deserve you."

"You totally don't," Layla teases back, happily returning to the stove. You flip over on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your phone while she finishes making dinner. A comfortable silence fills the room, interrupted only by Layla's hums and the discordant sounds of cooking.

Layla has been your roommate since your sophomore year of college, randomly paired together by the dorm sorting system and inseparable ever since. The two of you clicked, a friendship forged over the awkwardness of early adulthood and a shared love of terrible reality TV. Both of you keep busy schedules while pursuing your respective master’s degrees and help each other out where you can. Making dinners for each other is just a part of that.

It’s not long before Layla brings over two steaming plates of food to lay out on your thrifted coffee table. She sits opposite you, preferring to sit on the floor rather than the couch. You’re eager to dig in, groaning at the first bite.

“I’ll take that as a thank you,” Layla grins, tucking into her own meal.

“God yes.”

“Long day then?”

You groan again, this time in irritation rather than pleasure. “Yes. I don’t know how many more know-it-all grad students I can deal with.”

She’s heard all about your nightmare sessions with students that think they already know everything. You’ve questioned more than once why they bother booking the session if they're just going to ignore your advice and decide their paper is perfect as is. It seems like a total waste of time for both you and them.

Layla sympathizes and shares her own gripes about some of the assholes she's forced to put up with while working on her research project. After all, no group project is complete without the one person who does nothing but acts like they know everything. Giving each other time to vent another small way the two of you take care of each other.

As you think back on your day and sessions your mind inevitably drifts to Mando. He hadn’t been anything like you’d expected. He was kind in his own way and by far the most amenable session you’d had all day. Not taking off the helmet was odd, as was not giving out his real name, but neither of those had really bothered you when it came down to it. If anything, they only serve to fascinate you further.

“Did something else happen today?” Layla asks, a spark lighting up in her eyes. She can always read you, something that can be either a blessing or a curse depending on what it is you're hiding. You take a few more bites before answering, already anticipating her reaction.

“Well I might have also met Mando today,” You try to throw it out there casually, hoping that if you treat it as though it’s not a big deal she’ll follow your lead. You should have known better.

“You what!? Tell me everything,” Layla screeches at you from across the coffee table. She pushes her food off to the side, clearly deciding that your unexpected meeting with campus's resident celebrity is far more important.

"He came in for a session. His paper was really good, it-"

Layla is quick to cut you off. "I literally couldn't care less about that and you know it. Tell me about him, what's he like? Is he terrifying?"

You can’t help but snort at that. You know why she asked of course - the rumors flying around about him getting out of hand these days - but when you think about him now they all seem ludicrous. The gentle way he spoke to Grogu and offered his hand out to the kid before leaving. The sincerity in his voice as he spoke to you, eager to hear any advice you had to give him. No. Mando was decidedly not terrifying. “He’s… just a guy,” you tell her, not really sure how to explain his unique presence.

The eyeroll you receive in response is warranted. “Are you kidding me right now? You probably know more about him than anyone else on campus and you’re going to tell me he’s just a guy?”

You shrug, shoveling another bite of food into your mouth. “I don’t know what to tell you Lays, I only spent an hour with him. He was nice, really sweet with his kid, and I’ll probably never see him again.”

You’re not sure why you feel a quick sting in your chest at that thought. It wasn’t like you knew him well or that he even owed you anything. Considering the fact that you’d gone weeks without so much as glimpsing him on campus you’d probably only have another chance to see him if he signed up for another session and there was no guarantee he’d return.

“So the kid thing is true?” Layla asks.

“Yeah. Really cute kid, pretty quiet.” Very quiet now that you think of it. You don’t have much experience with kids that young, but you’re certain kids Grogu’s age can talk. He hadn’t said so much as a word, only letting out an occasional noise or two. It was odd, but then he could just be shy or something. Another question you’d probably never have an answer for.

“Is the kid his?” Layla presses.

“I don’t know, it didn’t exactly come up while we discussed his paper on unique material applications,” you snap back at her. You wince a little at your sharp reply. It wasn’t deserved. Layla was simply curious and now the victim of your long day and swirling thoughts.

You quickly follow up with an apology. “Sorry. I just- I had a long day and I really didn’t learn much about him, okay?”

There’s a small sense of relief when Layla nods, backing down from her inquisition. “It’s cool, I get it. Just promise you’ll tell me if you see him again?”

“Yeah, I’ll let you know.”

The rest of the night passes like usual. You wash up after dinner, a fair trade since Layla cooked, and the two of you get to tackling homework that’s begun to pile up with the semester entering its full swing. Nighttime study sessions have been a regular occurrence since your undergrad days and have only intensified while pursuing your respective graduate degrees. It’s more about solidarity and accountability than shared workload, what with your program being in English and Layla’s in Marketing, but it’s nice. Simply having company is better than doing it all by yourself.

Around 10:30 you call it, eyes bleary from staring at your laptop. Layla is deep into a PDF reading so you leave her to her work and shuffle off to the shared bathroom. While the water heats, you brush your teeth lazily, going through the motions of your nightly routine. You test the water with your hand before deciding it’s warm enough to step in.

Your thoughts drift aimlessly as you stand under the hot stream, unfocused until they land back on him. It’s like you can’t help yourself, the way your thoughts have been returning to him all night. You’ve puzzled about him before, but only in the abstract. A hypothetical more than a real person. Wondering if rumors are true isn't quite the same as wondering about the man himself.

All throughout the night he kept popping up. One moment you would be considering the symbolic use of color in your assigned reading and the next you would be puzzling over Mando’s favorite color. Maybe orange, if his gloves were anything to go by. Layla's favorite song played and while she sang along you couldn't help wondering what kind of music he listens to. Rock probably, or was that too on the nose? As you sipped your drink you wondered what his drink of choice would be, alcoholic or not. Did he even drink alcohol at all? Something told you he wasn’t much for losing his inhibitions.

It's all the little things, all the little details that actually make up a person that no one bothers to speculate about that consume you now. Who cares about his favorite movie or favorite food when you can guess on whether or not he's been to jail?

As you wash the grime of the day from your body, your mind continues to drift further, settling onto the first thing that captured your attention earlier today. His hands. Those gorgeous sun soaked hands, how fluidly they moved across his keyboard. The firm hold of them when he shook your hand.

Eyes fluttering closed, you can't help imagining that it's his hands skating across your skin. You can almost feel the gentle roughness of them, the way he'd squeeze and hold you - tight, but not so hard that it hurts. Almost unconsciously, your hand begins to drift down your body, only to be interrupted by a pounding on the bathroom door. Your eyes snap open, confusion and embarrassment replacing your fantasy.

"Hurry up in there! I need to pee," Layla yells through the door.

You grumble in response, knowing she can't hear you, but quickly finish your shower. It's not quite as relaxing anymore, flustered by your wanton thoughts.

Getting back into your room, you check your email before setting your alarms for tomorrow. There’s the usual spam from online stores reminding you of limited time deals, a reminder that rent is due next week (lovely), and a couple generic university emails. Your eyes fall to your new tutoring appointment emails and you flick through them mindlessly to clear them out, knowing they’ll all automatically appear on your calendar.

Just as you’re about to close out of the app and get some well needed rest, a new email pops through. It’s another appointment alert scheduled for next week. You tap to open it and your heart flutters when you read the name on the form. Mando. No need to wonder about if you’d ever see him again now. You’d be seeing him Tuesday at 3 PM. Somehow you know he won’t miss his appointment.

×××××

Din is exhausted. Between Grogu, classes, and trying to find ways to make money, he barely has enough time to do basic functional adult things. Things like showering regularly, eating more than a required minimum of once a day, or heaven help him sleep.

He wishes he could afford a regular babysitter, allow himself some occasional reprieve but it's not possible. He makes just enough to keep the bills paid and at least Grogu's stomach full. There's also an ever present paranoia about letting a stranger into his home, much less to watch his son. Only Paz and Cara have ever babysat for him and even that was mostly against his will.

Din slumps onto his couch, exhausted from the long day. He’d found the couch on the side of the road. It’s well worn and has a couple holes in it, but it was devoid of fleas, comfortable, and most importantly, free. His helmet is off, sitting on the kitchen table where he’d left it after getting home from campus. He’s mostly used to it these days, but sometimes it can still feel suffocating underneath the custom bucket. Taking it off at the end of the day is always welcome, especially when Din sees Grogu’s eyes light up at his exposed face.

He allows himself just a moment of rest, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the back of the couch. Grogu had finally gone to bed, demanding three stories before he fell asleep and Din not having it within him to deny the requests. A small smile rests on his lips, thinking of Grogu's excitement at his mediocre storytelling. He already loathes the day when Grogu won't ask him to read anymore.

There are about twenty other things he should be doing right now other than sitting on the couch. The apartment hasn't been cleaned properly in weeks, dishes are piling up, laundry needs to be done, he needs to find a job for this weekend, should probably find better daycare for Grogu, has an exam to study for, and a paper to finish writing. He should be doing all of that and more, and yet he can't find the will to move. He stays planted firmly on the couch, letting his thoughts drift. A few different ideas and ruminations swirl around, but his mind settles onto one. Her.

She isn't what he had been expecting. When his professor had recommended a session with a writing tutor he'd been a little miffed at first. Din knew words weren't his strong suit, but he hadn't thought he was that bad. He probably wouldn't have even considered it if she hadn't immediately assured him that it was only a suggestion because she saw potential in his work.

He had still only been considering it, form half filled out, when Grogu had hit submit. He’d looked for a way to cancel the appointment, but couldn’t figure it out with the school’s poorly designed website, so instead he had resigned himself to going. After all, just the one session couldn't hurt and he'd already be on campus.

He thought the tutor would be some irritating know-it-all, pointing out all the mistakes in his paper. Either that, or that they'd be too nervous to make any real criticisms. He’d noticed the way people froze up around him, sometimes too timid to even look in his direction. She wasn't either of those things.

She was all smiles and kindness, not hesitant around him for a moment. Even Grogu took an immediate liking to her, as evidenced by the gift of his frog drawing. Din had more of those than he could count, but very few others had been bestowed the honor of his sacred amphibian themed artworks.

She challenged him in a way he liked, not rude but still forceful. Encouraging him to figure out what it was she was guiding him towards with the paper. Not taking ownership, simply identifying where ideas could be made stronger or clearer. They’d only worked through a few pages in the session and Din already felt more confident in his writing.

What he liked most though was that she hadn't even asked about the helmet. It was all he heard from those brave enough to speak to him. Where did he get it, why did he wear it, did he ever take it off, what does he look like underneath, and so on. Avoiding all of those questions got to be draining. She didn't even acknowledge it.

She had mentioned the rumors that were apparently swirling around campus about him but that was it. He was a bit grateful for that though, entirely unaware of how popular he'd apparently become. The stares that followed him on campus were hard to ignore, but he didn’t know about their accompanying whispers. He still isn’t sure if the rumors are a good or a bad thing. Her reaction hadn’t given him all that much to go off of. He wishes it had.

That thought stops Din short. Where did that come from? Why did her opinion of him suddenly matter after a single one hour session? Din can’t remember the last time he considered someone else’s opinion of him. Probably when he first brought Grogu home to meet everyone. Now here he is, wondering what his English tutor’s thoughts were about the rumors everyone has been spreading about him. He needs to get out more.

Din shakes his head free, trying to ponder other aspects of his life. Like when he’d be able to get the Razor Crest up and running again. She’d broken down again after only the second week of classes. Paz makes fun of him for riding on such an old bike, but she’s a classic. Din can’t get rid of her, no matter how much she likes to break down on him. In the meantime he could make due with the loaner truck from Peli.

Thoughts of his motorcycle only distract him for so long though. He realizes half-way through the fantasy that he’s imagining taking her out on his bike, feeling her hands clasped around his waist as he rides through the city. The way she’d hang on just a little tighter, pressing herself against his back, as he hits the throttle just a bit harder.

Din sits up on the couch and mutters to himself. “Come on, Djarin. Pull it together.”

She’s beautiful, yes, but to already be fantasizing about taking her for a ride? That’s a bit much. It has been months since Din has seen any kind of action, but he shouldn’t be this desperate after spending only an hour with a pretty face. Still, now that he’s thinking of it, his mind wanders to what she’d be like.

Would she take charge, calm and in control like she was earlier today? Or would she submit to him, allow him to do whatever he wanted? A small groan escapes Din’s lips at the thought of having her beneath him, begging for him to take her. How she would look spread out on his bedsheets, how sweet she’d taste. He can already imagine how good she’d feel wrapped around him, the way her eyes would look all strung out and cockdumb. It would be a beautiful sight if he’s ever lucky enough to see it.

An alarm Din forgot he set suddenly blares on his phone. He can’t even remember what he set it for as he’s yanked from his lewd imaginings, scrambling to turn it off. There’s a small wave of embarrassment as he registers where he allowed his thoughts to drift.

Ignoring the uncomfortable pressure in his jeans, Din pulls up the tutoring appointment form on his phone and signs up for another session. There’s an option to select a specific tutor and he’s quick to open it up, choosing her name from the drop down menu.

There’s nothing wrong about this, right? She’d helped him with his paper and Grogu liked her. She even asked if she’d be seeing him again. That was plenty of reason to have another session. His renegade fantasies had nothing to do with his decision to go back. Din is a man in control of his urges. If anything, this next session would prove that his thoughts were all just fleeting, just a simple result of going too long without anyone in his bed.

taglist: @honestly-shite @booksarekindaneat @wonderless-screwup @pinkninja200 @captain-jebi @ajeff855 @leias-rebelion

Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated 💕

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #college!din #college!mando #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian au #pedro pascal x reader #mandocrasis fic #sessions

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saphirered · 4 years ago

Note

would you mind doing a little scene maybe of caduceusxreader or maybe calebxreader where their s/o ends up hit with pollen during battle that gets them super high alla knott and the floor fruit style please?

Little turned into a bit more of a scenes instead 😅. A little disclaimer; I do not condone the abuse of substances especially not illegal ones. Listen to your auntie Saph, kids! Stay in school and be responsible! 😘

Content Warning: Use of mind altering substances.

It’s the middle of a fight in the jungle. You’re under attack by a large lizard walking on its hind legs, with some rather useless short arms but huge sharp teeth that have munched on Fjord one too many times leaving the half-orc in a bleeding and moody state without much of a chance to get out and not get hit again.

The battlefield is not in your favour considering this oversized lizard is about to turn your friend into its next meal but you still have a healing potion left and really, this is the time to use it but you can’t really get to Fjord without getting close to the lizard thing and even then you doubt you’d be able to get into arms reach of the man. Well it’s now or never and better than the alternative. You rush forward dodging below the toothy maw of the creature.

“Fjord! Catch!” With that you get as close as you can, tossing the healing potion. Fjord just barely catches it, thanking you but that quickly falls silent.

“Look out!” Caleb shouts as he releases a firebolt to strike the lizard. It does not stop the creature from swiping with its tail sending you flying with a brute force knocking the air out of you. Luckily your landing is softened by a comfy bed of flowers, moss and some mushrooms. You land a cloud of spores and pollen dusting around you and entering your lungs as the first breath you’re able to take. It leaves you coughing and sneezing but you shake it off. This is not the right time for allergies to be kicking in. You got a lizard to kill.

Together you fight off the lizard. Still taking quite some good hits you deliver some as well and in the end manage to kill the thing. Some of you worse for wear you unanimously decided taking a breather is probably a good idea. You find a comfy patch of moss that does not release a dust cloud the moment you touch it and let yourself fall into its soft embrace, eyes closed.

“I’m just going to lie down over here. Let me know when we’re moving again.” An odd sense of nausea kicks in so you turn to your side and just curl up in an attempt to get a little more comfortable on the jungle floor.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Caleb asks looking you over. Physically you're a bit worse for wear but not terribly so. A moment of rest should have you back on your feet. You phase out a bit letting yourself be dragged off in a moment of rest.

Not but five minutes later your moment of peace is disturbed by a warm, really warm but comfortable hand being placed on your arm and shaking you lightly. You curl up a little tighter before rolling on your back and meeting the bright blue eyes of Caleb. You don’t recall them being that bright, maybe more like a muted or pale blue but now they’re vibrant. Odd you hadn’t noticed before. Same goes for his hair, red is more fiery orange and you swear you can pick apart every single strand on his head as well as the light stubble he’s sporting.

"Hey." You smile at the wizard lovingly. You'll never tire of waking up to Caleb no matter of how much you might want to continue sleeping. Caleb's a handsome man but right now he looks absolutely angelic with the bleeding light creating a halo around him.

Maybe it’s just because of the faded green background behind Caleb that throws off the contrast? Besides, you might have fallen asleep in your five minutes of rest, your vision usually goes a bit blurry until things come into focus but that doesn’t really explain why Caleb is so high focus now… Odd but you dismiss it as exhaustion and the vast jungle getting to you. No, you definitely hit your head when that lizard tail swiped you. Maybe you have a concussion. Should ask the clerics to check that out later once they’ve gotten their rest. Now's not the time to bother them.

“Hey. Time to get up. We’re ready to move before nightfall comes around.” Ugh. Even his voice sounds angelic now? Caleb offers you a hand and helps you up from the comforts of your moss-bed. Somewhat reluctant you get up. The nausea gets worse and you put a hand over your mouth suppressing the urge to vomit.

“Are you alright?” Caleb stabilises you as you stumble a little, dizziness not making your nausea any better. Sweet gods those warm hands just make you want to curl up into their warmth forever but you repress the urge well aware Caleb isn’t exactly the fondest of pda and keep it more surface levels with the others around.

“Yeah. Totally fine just a bit ugh but I’ll be fine. Some more sleep will probably do me good.” You see the rest of the Nein is packed up and ready to continue. Weren’t they just unpacking when you closed your eyes five minutes ago? Okay so maybe those five minutes were closer to an hour or so? What kind of exhaustion fuelled time warp did you get stuck in? This exhaustion is really getting to you. You need a vacation; one with Caleb. Maybe with an ocean view? That sounds nice. You're getting side tracked. Time to travel.

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

The journey continues deeper into the jungle towards your destination and your limbs get heavier and heavier. Did Jester paint you some lead shoes and replace yours while you were asleep? Did she do your clothes too? Because your whole body feels so heavy.

You bump into Caleb’s side. A hand finds its way to the small of your back and the warmth returns. You didn’t realise you’re feeling so cold, freezing almost so you allow yourself to lean just a bit more into Caleb’s side to bask in the warmth provided by your flaming hot wizard.

“You don’t happen to be able to make someone do the floaty glide thingy Essek can do, can’t you?” Caleb is confused by your sudden question and the unfiltered sentencing. You usually formulate your words more carefully than this but it seems as if the word ‘gravity’ has escaped your vocabulary. Caleb blames it on exhaustion seeing your somewhat unfocused state and feeling the weight of your body leaning on him for support. You’ve been walking for hours, running for a few and fought a giant lizard of a forgotten era after all. You have every right to be tired and he'll support you in any way he can.

“Ah, I’m afraid not. But, we will be setting down for the night once we reach a clear spot.” Didn’t you catch that conversation? You were there for it providing nods and noises of agreement while keeping an eye out for anything approaching. This is a bit odd for you so Caleb decides to keep an eye on you.

You hear birds chirping around you, their song drowning out Caleb’s words but not voice as he talks to you but the song is just too beautiful, it brings a smile to your face. Looking around you can see them sometimes. Colourful feathers popping against the green and the muted flashes of a sun lowering. If the sun’s going to sleep, you want to go soon too. It’s not really fair if you have to keep walking when it gets to lie down.

The colours and patterns through the leaves are very pretty though and the rays bleeding through are to die for. The world should look like this forever. It’s so beautiful, pulsing with every breath you take. No, you’re breathing with the nature around you. You get a newfound respect for Caduceus and Fjord’s Wildmom. She’s pretty cool if she’s responsible for all this. Is she responsible for all this? She gets your credit anyway.

You’re pulled to a sudden stop, or at least it feels sudden. Caleb is suddenly in front of you pulling your focus towards him and away from the chirping birds and the setting sun and the Wildmom. You’d ask Caleb to leave you alone but his gentle smile alone and warm hands on your shoulders pushing you down to sit on a tree stump call for your undivided attention in turn pulling it away from the gently blowing breeze and kaleidoscope of colours.

“You’re exhausted. Sit down and rest while we set up.” Caleb suggests and you find yourself nodding the words not entirely registering. Warm fingers press against your cheek before they pull away all too soon. The warmth leaves your body as Caleb leaves your side and the freezing cold returns. You wrap your coat tighter around yourself in an effort to preserve the heat but nothing seems to work.

You try to focus on your surroundings to distract from the icy cold, the humid jungle temperatures doing nothing to keep you warm. The crickets provide a beautiful symphony with the rustling leaves, the last of the song birds going to sleep and the awakening of the nocturnal creatures. It helps and you find yourself swaying lightly from side to side with the melody. It brings you a sense of happiness and content as well as a connection to everything around you.

You feel yourself beginning to drift when something warm and soft and a little heavy is draped across your shoulders. The warmth is similar to Caleb but not entirely the same, though you’re met with an intense smell of molasses, old books and whatever remains after a fire has turned to embers. Your eyes fall upon the dark purple material of Caleb’s coat; most of all the geometric patterns of the lining. They are enchanting and you feel like you could get lost in them.

“You’re shivering. Come. We’re all set up.” You once again allow Caleb to guide you back to your feet and pull you along to where the Nein had set up. Sitting down with you Caleb takes out his spellbook and a small crystal bead. You've always loved watching Caleb cast spells, something alluring to the practiced words and patterns. He begins to weave his hands through the air in front of him, the light sparks of magic following his fingertips as he speaks the words, what you didn’t expect to see is the trails left by the motions. You’ve never seen those before. That’s new. They’re very pretty though; a warm orange trail of embers just like him. Enamoured you stare, making no effort to hide or avert your gaze. You catch Caleb's eyes and he offers you a half smile which you dopily return continuing to watch the patterns.

You’re rudely pulled out of your trance by Caduceus offering you a bowl of food. Usually you would have jumped at the promise of food, the firbolg’s cooking is unrivalled but now the nausea comes back and your stomach twists at the smell alone. You turn to the side fighting the urge vomit and as politely as possible and decline the delicious food much to your dismay.

Caleb does accept the food he’s offered as Veth happily accepts your serving as seconds. Caleb sniffs the food expecting it to smell off somehow because of your reaction but it doesn’t. It’s as perfect as ever and you’re not one to refuse food when offered. As he begins eating you excuse yourself finding a spot where you don’t have to look at your friends consuming their food both, because of the strong smell and the look of it. While delicious the thought of the texture sends your brain in overdrive where you get an overwhelming phantom taste which only intensifies the nausea.

Finding a spot still within the dome but far enough to be comfortable you just watch the geometric patterns in the lining of Caleb’s coat. Not only do you focus on the patterns but you’re pretty sure you can count the individual threats of the fabric. The colours and contrast intense pull you in almost pervasively so.

A hand shakes your shoulder turning you to face them. It’s Caleb and he looks rather worried. The expression alone carries over to you. What’s he worried about? It’s not bad is it? Is it because of you? Oh, no maybe it is you… You’re set into a train of emotions and anxiety and when Caleb notices his expression softens but the worry does not leave.

“Hey, hey. I need you to breathe, okay? Just keep breathing.” You follow his instructions taking deep breathes and the anxiety mutes replaced by a hyper fixation on Caleb. Literally, everything around the wizard fades into the distance when he steps into your vision but you manage to force yourself to be aware of your surroundings with a lot of effort.

“Very good. Now, you want to tell me what’s going on?” From over Caleb’s shoulder you see Veth stuff her mouth with the food you refused and that alone is enough to make you gag. Caleb notices and shifts to break your line of sight. Oh no, you can smell it again. You cover your mouth and nose and lean forward letting your forehead fall against his clavicle taking deep breaths of the comfy molasses, old pages and smouldering fire scent.

“I don’t know but one more sniff of food and I’ll vomit so please take mercy on me and save me from the savoury deliciousness until this nausea passes.” Caleb wraps his arms around you, one hand rubbing circles into your back while the other lightly plays with the hairs on the back of your neck to alleviate your suffering. Of course he’s trying to piece together what’s happened because you’re behaviour added up is not entirely like you. Right now his priority is making sure you're comfortable.

He keeps this going as one by one the Nein goes to sleep, Caleb and by default you taking the first watch. You don’t yet feel comfortable removing yourself from Caleb’s arms but do find a more comfortable position for the both of you to spare you the numbness of limbs.

The longer you sit around your mind starts to feel less hazy, the hyper focus lessens and your stomach calls for sustenance, the nausea fading. Luckily Caduceus had saved you some leftovers which you happily nibble on. The spices and herbs providing extra flavours are intense but no longer unwelcome or nauseating. Regardless of what caused this all, you didn’t think Caduceus’ food could taste any better but damn does it taste beyond divine. You’ve rediscovered your appetite and finish the leftovers.

While sitting in Caleb’s embrace, head on his stomach holding the book you’re both reading Caleb’s coat long since returned to him you’re feeling mentally exhausted, but your mind is at ease, as if all stress and pressure of the world around you has faded for just a moment. You’re at peace in the arms of the man you love and surrounded by your friends.

The realisation that despite all the bad you’ve gone through together it’s all been worth it a thousand times over and you wouldn’t change a thing. A yawn escapes as you turn the page, knowing Caleb will have read it several times at this point.

“Tired?”

“Exhausted.”

“You’d think with all the breaks and rest you’ve already gotten today you’d have trouble sleeping again.” Caleb recalls the times where you’ve taken breaks before and spent half of the night up getting rid of the energy just to get a moment of sleep in the more stressful days where sleep does not come easily; days like the past few have been.

“I would have but none of those times did I actually catch a break. I was nauseas for hours, everything felt and looked intense, could only focus on one thing at the time visually even though for some reason I was hyper aware of my senses.” You turn the page again as Caleb pulls you a little closer, about to press a kiss to your shoulder. He stops, retreats and instead brushes his fingers over it.

“Maybe I was just on an exhaustion or anxiety high running on my last bit of energy and now we get a moment to relax and breathe, that’s what gotten me back to earth.” Caleb doesn’t respond and when you look up at him from over your shoulder you see Caleb closely inspecting the fingers he brushed over your shoulder.

“You know, I’m beginning doubt this change of mood was induced by exhaustion.” He runs his fingers together and you see the light dust pulverise. Confused you signal for Caleb to elaborate on his train of thought because you’re still feeling a little slow.

“Remember the tumble you took into the patch of flowers and mushrooms?”

“You mean when I got my ask kicked by an oversized lizard? Yeah, hard to forget.” You grasp at your ribs as if to relief a still lasting ache from the hit of the creature’s tail. You turn around, putting the book down and sit on your knees between Caleb’s legs as things begin to fall into place for the both of you. Your landing... Oh no...

“I don’t think that dust cloud upon impact was just dust or pollen.” You throw your head back and groan. Unbelievable. Through the lasting peace and calm you feel the embarrassment peak through as well as annoyance at the whole situation.

“So you’re telling me I’ve been tripping balls for the past six or so hours?”

“That is exactly what I’m saying.” Caleb states deadpanned before he breaks and laughs at you. You deserve it really. Stubbornness to admit something’s wrong is what got you so far. Should have told someone you weren’t feeling right and it definitely wasn’t exhaustion but no and it was already too late when the ‘beauty of the world’ took hold of your mind.

“Well then, take comfort that it’s not just the spores leave me completely enamoured with you.” You peck Caleb’s nose and poke his stomach to get him to quit laughing before he wakes up the others. You won’t hear the end of this that’s for damn sure so best to keep this incident between the two of you. Let the other’s believe you’re just over-exhausted.

#critical role #critical role x reader #critrole x reader #mighty nein x reader #mighty nein #caleb x reader #caleb widogast x reader

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suite43 · 4 years ago

Text

"Are you just going to stand there all night?" Starscream muttered, glaring from where he was laying in bed, wings tucked to one side.

"Where else am I supposed to go?" Bumblebee asked. He wasn't looking at Starscream, just standing on the other side of the room, staring out one of the absurdly massive windows at the city below.

Bumblebee sighed. It was late. Really late. Slug was probably getting dragged out of Maccadam's right about now, probably by a cranky Ironhide and the other dinobots. Wheeljack would still be up, somewhere, if not at the bar then tucked away in a workshop or other. Blurr was probably still working. Bee absently wondered what time it was on Earth, and if Optimus was okay, and tried to guess where the Lost Light might be right now.

He missed them.

Recently he'd taken to spending his nights wandering around the massive Iacon tower where Starscream lived. It was always mostly empty in the late hours. He'd mentally mapped almost all of it. Down to the basement to watch whatever the hell Starscream had his mnemosurgeon up to, thinking up ways to chastise him for it in the morning. Around the public spaces, tracing the patterns of the incredible stained glass windows and the tiling of the floors. Up and down dozens of flights of winding stairs that probably would've killed him had he still had a physical body. He still felt an ache in his bad knee, some nights. Through the offices of the delegates, often catching miss Windblade working late, muttering to herself, or occasionally talking to Chromia.

But he knew the tower too well. It was beginning to just remind him of how fucking alone he was. He'd long since overcome any nerves or feelings of impoliteness about eavesdropping, but it was still painful to walk in and out of rooms without so much of an acknowledgement that he'd been there at all. Sometimes, not often, but sometimes in the late late nights in big empty towers where he could scream and yell and stomp as much as he wanted and nobody would so much as blink, a part of Bumblebee began to think that maybe Starscream is right.

Does it even matter? The more sleepless nights spent wandering empty buildings as a pathetic excuse for a poltergeist made Bee start to think that if everyone else was convinced he was a hallucination, maybe he was.

"Where else am I supposed to go?"

Starscream didn't respond at first, leaving Bee to his thoughts. Or maybe he was having thoughts of his own. Equally broody ones, probably. Bumblebee wanted to not care what Starscream was thinking. But he cared.

"You could at least sit down."

///

Days bled into weeks into months, and their interactions became more comfortable, despite everything. There was less denial on Starscream's part, that certainly helped. Being told you're not real twenty-seven times a day by the only person who can see you isn't exactly good for ones mental state, and Bee was greatful for the change.

The nights were still hard.

As far as Bee could tell, he didn't need to sleep. But, even when the stubborn bastard said otherwise, Starscream did. Which meant there were usually at least a few hours Bee had to pass alone.

Most nights does not mean every night, though. Starscream was still an insomniac.

And at some point, Bee had moved from sitting by the window and brooding to dragging the chair closer to Star's bed, encouraged by one too many passionate late-night conversations about some plan or other that they'd gotten way too into.

Being closer to Starscream meant more noticing the tossing and turning, the restless flicker of optics and quiet uncomfortable muttering that filled his nights before Starscream would eventually give up on the whole "sleep" thing, shoving his face into a pillow and letting out a string of swears.

"Are you okay?" Bee asked, one such night.

"What do you care?"

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Tch. Hardly."

"If you're worried about keeping a secret, remember I physically can't talk to anyone else. If you're worried about embarrasing yourself, remember I'm literally dead. No matter what you are actively doing better than I am in terms of survival."

"And yet, that doesn't stop you from being one judgy son of a bitch."

"Eh, it's an autobot thing. Judgy is what we do, isn't it?"

"Agreed," Starscream smirked, despite how exhausted he seemed, and something in Bee's chest gave a slight lurch at the sight.

"Seriously, whats bothering you?"

///

There came a point where "comfortable" became "casual", which became borderline intimate at times, which was astounding. Despite being stubborn and cagey and completely avoidant about 90% of his real issues, Starscream had managed to be genuine for long enough to manage good conversations.

Bee felt much more certain with that. Starscream was connecting with him, in his way. Which meant that Bee couldn't be that fake, or that annoying. He was probably real. Which was confidence-boosting. He didn't dread alone time nearly as much, knowing that he was making an impact on at least one person during the day made the nights a bit easier. Still, Starscream didn't sleep much.

"I don't get it..." He was drunk, and muttering, more talking at Bumblebee than to him, tired and barely coherent and definetly obsessing. Starscream could barely keep his eyes open. He was laying in his bed, which was pressed into a corner of the room, facing the nearby wall.

The nearby wall, which happened to have a Bee blocking the view. He had sat himself in Starscream's bed, in one corner, leaning up against the walls, cane laying next to him, repeating bits of information back to Star and correcting him on this or that detail, rebuttling his more outrageous claims with bored No, you won't's and Really, Starscream?'s.

"You're driving headfirst into a cliffside and then wondering why you aren't getting anywhere," Bee said, interrupting Starscream's latest rambling.

"Well, if you're so smart, what would you suggest I do?"

"Go to bed, tackle it again in the morning when you have the common sense to climb." Bee smiled a little. He sounded almost like Prime. Or maybe more like Wheeljack? Didn't matter. It was solid advice.

"Or fly. I'm a jet."

"Sure, or fly, whatever. Go the fuck to sleep. You need it."

"I don't need you."

"Didn't say you did." Bee rolled his eyes.

"I don't need you to tell me what to do."

"Somebody has to at least try to make sure Cybertron's great and powerful leader isn't falling asleep at his desk tommorow."

"I've earned the right to nap wherever I damn well please."

"Not during a trial. Or a council meeting. Or-"

"We have a council meeting tommorow?"

"Yeah, you do, it's in your schedule. It's early."

"Fuck," he rubbed at his eyes. "I should've thought about that before I went and drank half a bottle of high-grade."

"I tried to warn you." Bee didn't see the point in mentioning that it was considerably more than half a bottle. He'd figure it out in the morning.

"...Thanks." It was quiet, and a little ashamed, and shockingly sincire.

"Um. You're welcome? I do my best."

Starscream stared at him for a moment, expression focused but unreadable. Then he rolled over, shifting his wings, snuggling in to make himself more comfortable, still muttering to himself even as he drifted off.

Bee sighed, letting himself slide down until he was laying on the bed. He could feel it under him, sort of. It was firm, but not much else. He didn't feel the smoothness of the silky fabric he knew Starscream spent way too much money on, nor the warmth that should be eminating from the sleeping seekers frame. He did, however, feel the steady thrum of Starscream's spark. It reverberated in the hollow of Bee's own chest, where his own sparkbeat was barely a faint flicker.

He wondered if Starscream felt that in the same way. A small, persistent tug at the edge of his spark, even when they weren't near each other. If he did, he'd probably call it guilt.

Bee sighed and closed his eyes, just focusing on the spark's pulse, the soft push and pull. He might not be able to actually sleep, but he could at least pretend for a bit.

///

Bee groaned and pulled himself out of bed, finally giving up as he left his apartment and marched down the night streets, following the tugging weight at the edge of his spark until he was face to face with a door into a familiar apartment in a familiar building and he was suddenly hit with a wave of what the fuck am I doing?

He spent a minute arguing with himself over whether or not he ought to actually knock on the door, but it turned out to be useless, because it slid open without him doing much of anything at all. In the doorway stood a weary Starscream looking surprised, but also not, to see the yellow minibot in front of him.

"Bee?"

"Uh, hi."

"What are you doing here?"

"Uh, well," Bee suddenly felt very foolish. "I, uh, can't sleep."

"And... you came here?"

"Yeah. I guess."

Starscream just stared at him for a minute before turning away with a huff, retreating into the apartment, the door left open behind him. It seemed as good an invitation as he was going to get, so Bee followed him in.

He wandered through the apartment, following Starscream back to the bedroom, already feeling some of his nerves beginning to settle just by being here. It wasn't the same apartment Starscream had had when he was ruling the planet, but it was similar enough. Same decor, same layout. A bit smaller, but still, the whole place was overwhelmingly Starscream. He spilled out of the furniture, painted the walls and filled every nook and cranny with himself. His presence was, as always, undeniable and overwhelming. To Bumblebee, it just felt safe.

Neither of them really talked, and in fact barely even spared a glance towards the other as they climbed into bed, both for embarrasment's sake and a lingering fear that adressing what was happening would break it.

They continued not acknowledging it until Starscream, muttering something about his wings, rolled over to face Bee's back. Bee could feel Starscream's sparkbeat flittering anxiously, and was having to make a concious effort to keep his own close to steady as he moved backwards to press right against Starscream's chest.

There was a moment where Starscream froze, unsure of exactly what to do, but eventually he decided on tenatively wrapping an arm around Bumblebee's waist, growing more confident when Bee melted into it, relishing the simple touch.

Bumblebee slept better that night, pulled against Starscream's chest, knowing he was held and safe and real, then he had in weeks.

///

Bumblebee woke up first the next morning, Starscream's face nuzzled into the space between his shoulders, the jets breathing even and warm against Bee's plating.

He didn't make any move to get up, or even so much as twitch. He wanted to squeeze every second he could out of it, before Starscream woke up and shoved him away again and whatever this was inevitably ended.

But that didn't happen. Eventually, Starscream stirred, coming online with a jolt, like the act of waking had snuck up and startled him. He pulled away from Bee, looking around the room, letting his processor catch up with who and where he was. After a moment he soothed, letting out a shaky breath and pressing his face against Bee's cheek, wrapping his arms back around the minibot's waist.

"You're still here?" Star muttered, voice still thick with sleep.

"Where else would I go?" Bumblebee said. He didn't say it outright, but he used every fiber of his being to push I just want to be wherever you are out at Starscream and hope he got the message, because Bee didn't think he could say it out loud.

Apparently it was good enough, because Starscream's arms around him squeezed him tighter and he gently, so softly that it nearly seemed as if he was scared, pressed a kiss to Bee's neck.

"Thanks," he said. A part of Bee wanted to say for what? and another wanted to say you don't have to thank me and another wanted to say i love you, but he didn't say any of those things. Instead, he turned himself over, trying not to pull away from Starscream any more than he absolutely had to, and he kissed him properly. It was soft, and inexperienced, and lazy, and it was so good that Bee felt like sobbing.

He blinked away tears and let his head fall to lean against Starscream's chest, hands tracing their way up and down the plating of Starscream's arms softly. He kissed the golden glass of Star's chest, listening to the thrum of the spark behind it, the way it pulsed in time with his own, the tugging feeling sated for now but the presence of Star's spark alongisde his own as strong as ever.

#red.doc #sorry this is completely unprompted i just dont wanna deal with uploading it to the thingy rn #the website.#starbee

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im-the-king-of-the-ocean · 4 years ago

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I’m not sure I’m ever going to be completely happy with this one, but then I’m seldom satisfied with my first forays with characters I haven’t written before, so there’s that.

Anyways, I’ve edited and re-edited it a lot, so I figure I’ll let it go out there and see what happens.

To Leave, As To Give Opportunity For Return

Love.

That’s the thing, isn’t it? Nureyev muses to himself. He swirls the deep red wine in his glass. His gaze roams and lingers to meet that of quite the beauty, all silken, flowing hair and curves to caress, sitting at the club’s bar. He smiles. They smirk back.

He just can’t resist, a pretty face, can he? Nureyev inhales his wine’s aroma and then sips. He lets his tongue flick out over his lips suggestively. The perfect image of mysteriously handsome with a dash of temptation complete, he allows himself a single, indulgent memory.

Juno’s face certainly is a pretty one, with or without the loss of one eye. Although, he could do so much more, aesthetically-speaking, than the plain eyepatches he prefers to adorn himself with. That’s one of the draws of Juno, Nureyev supposes. His preference for function over presentation is quite admirable, in its way. There’s a certain allure to Juno’s bluntness. Where others will decorate and costume themselves to conceal their identity, Nureyev himself included, Juno seems satisfied presenting ‘as-is’.

Nureyev’s ‘friend’ from the bar approaches him, offers a hand, and nods toward the dance floor. He graciously accepts. As he’s passing the stage, Nureyev slips a credit to one of the musicians, and whispers, “play something to set the mood, would you?”

The musician winks, quickly gestures something imperceptible to anyone but his bandmates to them, the lights dim, and the first notes of a soft, amorous melody are plucked. The dance begins.

Oh, but it is so much more than mere looks that draws Nureyev to Juno. Looks can instigate a dalliance, but they can’t sustain it. Not for as long as it needs to grow into something deeper. There has to be a spark. A breathless moment. The kindling of passion catching and burning so bright not even the darkest of night can smother it.

It’s not an easy thing to replicate. Not genuinely. But, Nureyev seldom needs to. The motions of attraction, the indications, they tend to get him as far as he needs. Simply present them and doors once locked will willingly open themselves to him.

The slow, smooth music notes of the band’s instruments drift around Nureyev and his partner of the night. He lets the melody inform his movement, lets it guide his body into languid, sensual poses. A dip here, a slight, ‘accidental’ caress there. Perfection. An image turned performance art.

Ah, his feelings for Juno, well, they had caught, hadn’t they? Even now, so very far apart, Nureyev’s heart flutters for none but his lady. He wants nothing more than to be with him, holding him close and whispering sweet, sultry nothings in his ear. Feeling Juno squirm with embarrassment while nestled securely to his chest.

The universe seldom bends to personal desires, does it not?

Nureyev skims his hands down his partner’s sides. They press into him, and exhale a breathy gasp in his ear. He nuzzles back, and, in the distraction, they doesn’t feel his hands nimbly lift their comms from their pocket.

There is the lingering dream of what could have been, yes. A few steps danced differently in a previous performance. A spaceship not left behind among the stars; a sitting duck for the authorities he beckoned to it.

Nureyev could be riding off into his own metaphoric sunset, into a happily-ever-after, if he had so chosen, and, yes, he’ll admit, there’s a version of himself who desired nothing more.

There’s so much more to it than that, though. A history spanning decades. His life. A play, enacted for none but himself, but witnessed by an audience he did not choose and could not control. The tale of the young revolutionary turned master thief completely. A show for the ages.

One that owed itself to deep, deep debts.

What would be the point of a lovely, fantastical future if it could so cruelly be ripped away by the vengeful, spiteful at being ignored, or disregarded? Was there anything to a fleeting happiness that winked as soon as it began?

Certainly not for one who still danced on puppet strings pulled taut by the marionette of another’s hand. For if a puppet were to strategize, nothing would indicate its plans more to its master than a tug on the strings too early.

And yet, at the same time, if left unattended too long, once dazzling bright affection could flicker and fade. The tune which plucks a heart’s strings could change, and, if heard again, the original would not be recognized at all, or welcomed back.

It is the simplest of matters for Nureyev to let his partner slip out of his grasp and into the arms of another. He steps back into a shadow. For a moment, there is an empty spot, an absence, on the club dance floor. Then it closes, and the memory of his presence is cast aside for more exciting options.

Juno, Nureyev thinks as he ascends the stairs at the back of the club and uses the stolen comms to open the door there, is perhaps one of the only people he personally allowed a glimpse of his private theater. It’s a wonder Juno never searched for a hint of it on his own. One that’s both relieving and disheartening. To have the love of someone who doesn’t need to know who he was before, who loves who he is in the now, it’s an impossible gift. At the same time, to want for who he was before to receive that same love, it’s a desperate ache.

Perhaps there’ll be a day when there’s harmony in such emotions. It is not now. The rest of this job is not deception through performance art. The safe he must crack has no mind to perceive or comprehend him. It is simply a device to puzzle out.

And so passion is put away.

Until such a time when he needs to call upon its skill again.

Nureyev can hope it won’t be a performance then, but he cannot admit the the indulgence to himself.

#tpp #the penumbra podcast #junoverse #peter nureyev #jupeter #whirls writing

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sylvain-writes · 5 years ago

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To Have You Like This (Leonardo x Male!Reader)

Rated: E (Explicit) Male Reader, Top Reader, Mutant Reader (chameleon/humanoid), friends to lovers, resolving sexual tension, rimming, anal sex, affection After your mutation, you had struggled to come to terms with the chameleon-like changes to your body. Luckily, you made a friend in Leonardo. The blue-banded leader quickly became your best friend, helping you transition to life as a mutant amid the chaos of NYC. But the energy between you has been shifting. Tonight, the feelings you two have been pushing down are going to come to the surface. for anonymous

Leonardo has always treated you as an equal. You were a fighter before your mutation, so your time with him hasn’t been all about the fundamentals of attack and defense. Training with Leo is more learning the ins and outs of your new abilities, figuring out how to use them to your advantage. But tonight, standing on opposite ends of the dojo, weapons tossed aside, neither of you are thinking about running drills.

Swordplay turned to grappling some time ago, and the tension that has been building between you for weeks has finally come to a head. Staring each other down, your chests heaving from exertion, both of you can feel the change in the air.

You see him shift, adjusting his belt to accommodate the effect you have on him. With your heightened senses, you can smell his arousal mixing with your own.

Your tongue flicks and slowly licks your lips, reminding him just how long and dextrous it’s become. Leonardo’s pupils dilate and he shudders at the sight. Giving a little smirk, you turn toward the tunnel for the showers with no doubt he’ll follow.

⁂

He meets you at the foot of his bed--your best friend and closest ally--but now you see each other in a new light. Everything is about to change.

Half-dressed and still dripping from your showers, there's a hunger in the way you drink in the sight of one another. Not an ounce of tension has dissolved. If anything, anticipation has drummed up more desire.

Leo breathes your name and it's a foreign sound--tortured and wanton. His voice trips down your spine and sends sparks through your veins. The fearless leader sounds uncertain. Curious and hopeful and a little bit lost.

For as long as you've been friends, you've known that if anything were to happen between you it would be you who makes the first move.

You take a step forward, and your hands find his chest.

Much like your time together in the dojo, this moment in Leo’s bedroom feels like taking your new body for a test drive. You know the fundamentals of a kiss, of a fuck, but now that you’re no longer fully human it all feels new. With Leo, so many things do.

You feel his heartbeat quicken and his breathing cease. You’ve touched before--donning armor, tending to injury--but never like this. The broad expanse of his chiseled plastron is warm under your hands, still slick from his shower. Your throat is tight. Your lips are dry.

You stand a few inches taller than him. Being this close makes it obvious. So you gather the tails of his mask in your hands. You urge him up on his toes to meet your height. His focus is on your lips, just as yours is on his, until your faces are too close for your eyes to do anything but close.

Cool, firm lips slide against yours. And when Leo releases a shaky exhale, his breath tastes like bitter herbs and honey. His forehead presses into yours as his hands hold your waist, and you feel him sway just a bit as he stands. You tip your head to bring your lips to his again.

He breaks the kiss, his voice trembling. “Please,” he says, and you pet his cheek, his neck.

You nod your head against his where you’re still pressed close. You’ve been friends long enough, grown close enough, to know Leonardo has never been intimate with anyone before. “Do you want to stop?” you ask, your voice dipping low. “Or do you want-”

“More,” he pleads in a rush, and he breathes against your lips as he takes it. His next kiss is urgent and wet. It’s desperate and perfect. His large hands sweep up your back and you love the strength of his thick fingers as they pull you chest to chest.

You cradle his chin and tilt his head to fit his lips better against yours. With your other hand, you caress his plastron--taking your time, feeling scars you hadn’t noticed before. Your heart twists as your fingertips find each divot and crack. You press another kiss to his lips before letting your mouth wander.

Your kisses travel his neck, down his shoulder with quick nips and licks. You run your tongue along the hard edge of his plastron, worshipping his heroism and sacrifice without words. Your hands move down the sensitive skin of his sides as your mouth continues its reverent descent. At his center, your hands slide over his belt, hinting at what you want to give him and asking for permission.

He looks down on you. His breathing already ragged. A hand strokes your head before he's undoing his belt with haste.

“We can stop,” you remind him, scratching designs down his thighs.

He huffs, his lashes fluttering as his eyes roll. He shakes his head and his shorts fall to the floor.

You shove him onto the mattress and smile knowing you've caught the ninja by surprise. Your hand drifts low on his abdomen, so low you can feel the impressive bulge under his plastron. You can guess how close he is to dropping down.

He pushes himself toward the headboard and reclines upon the pillows for you. He looks gorgeous like this. Laid out and desperate for your touch.

Kneeling between his legs, you remove your shirt and slide the waistband of your sweatpants down your thighs. As you lie over him, Leo rocks on his shell. The press and friction of your bodies spikes your arousal and curls your toes.

You hitch his leg over your hip, dragging him impossibly closer. Needing him closer. You moan against his lips.

“More,” he begs, his voice rough. The headboard groans under his grip as he writhes.

There’s no question in your mind, you’ll give him what he needs. You want him. All of him. It excites you to know he feels the same. Even quick as you are, he whines when you have to break contact to strip off the rest of your clothes.

When there’s nothing between you but fevered skin, you lean forward again, covering him with your body. You pin him down by his wrists, your single-handed hold tight and firm.

Leo looks up at you, his blue eyes stormy with passion and full of trust. He arches into your free hand as it explores his body. He feels alive in a way he hasn’t felt before. Under your gaze, your touch, he feels exposed and known and vulnerable in a way he’s never allowed himself to feel with anyone else.

Your hands come down to his sides, grab his shell by his hips, and you rut against him where he lies, so pliant, cooperative, and needy. He bucks his hips on a wrecked moan.

“Go ahead,” you say, one hand sneaking between you, stroking his belly. You palm the bulge under his plastron and he squirms. He whimpers. And you tease, "That's it." Massaging the rise of his abdomen, you command, “Let me see you.”

With a sigh that turns into a moan, he drops down. You look between you to take in the sight of him lined up beside your own dick. His length, his girth. He’s not so different from other men. Though yours are more similar now that you're reptilian as well.

You caress him with even, curious strokes, marveling at the texture of his flesh. The heat of it. Precome gathers at his tip and leaks down his length. It mixes with yours and smoothes the rough glide.

“Don’t,” Leo says, and it sounds like he’s going to break.

Your hand stills as your eyes meet.

“...'m close. Want to feel you.”

“I’m right here,” you assure him and bring your mouths together for a kiss that’s careful and slow.

Leo hums against your lips and it vibrates against your lips in a way that leaves you greedy for more. As a leader, Leo carries the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. But here, he lets go of all that, he melts.

“Fuck me,” he says and you think, for a moment, the world has stopped.

You must take too long to respond because when the world starts up again, Leo is looking up at you, his mouth soft and open, and he’s asking again.

You kiss him hard this time and tell him, “I’ve got you,” as if the way you have him pinned isn’t enough. Because you mean it in every sense. “I’ll take care of you, baby.”

With a teasing drag of your body against his, you slide down and part his legs. You abandon his dick for now, much more interested in fulfilling your promise. Eager to get him ready to take you in.

Leo's hand leaves the headboard to reach for yours. Your fingers link at his hip as your tongue laves at the most intimate part of him. Your tongue presses and Leo gasps.

He's tight and hot, sucking you in so greedily you slow down to hear the agony of his desire. He grinds down on your face as you offer him one finger then more. Taking him apart like this, with your fingers and tongue, quickly becomes your new favorite thing.

Bobbing just above you, his perfect cock throbs with anticipation and neglect. It’s dark, straining, dripping. You think it probably hurts to be that hard. Your own dick aches as it hangs between your thighs, well affected by Leo’s grunts and moans.

When your tongue leaves his ass and he whimpers, you assure him with a voice that’s low and smooth, “I’m right here.”

His gaze is open and sure as he nods. Then you align the head of your dick where he wants it and make it known you’re going to give him everything he needs.

You sink in slowly, a bit in awe that you get to have him like this.

He moans through the slide until he's taken every inch. He shudders as your hips meet and pleasure coils at your core. A wrecked sound breaks from Leo's throat. A mewl. A purr. You wonder if he knows what he's doing to you. His body tenses while he's filled to the root and your thighs tremble, your hips stutter. You pull back and plunge in and grunt his name.

He returns your call, panting and weak. Looks up at you, unguarded--cheeks flushed, eyes blown and glazed. To see him flawlessly laid out like this charges something possessive in you. You never knew you could want something, someone, so desperately until you had Leo writhing beneath you.

Your skin flares blue and green, orange and red rippling up your spine, washing you in color. You bend down meeting Leo for a deep, burning kiss. And you take his dick in hand where it's creating a mess over his stomach.

Your thrusts are short and deep. You work yourself up with quick fucks like it's a challenge. You work him over at a pace just as punishing, driving him toward orgasm and holding him at the edge.

Leo's head bangs against the headboard in time with your thrusts and a churr rolls through his chest. But the way he says your name, quiet and tender, has you coming undone.

You pull out to cover him in ropes of your sticky, hot spend. Your body shakes with each spurt and Leo greedily licks up a drop that's landed on his chin. It's the taste of you that does him in.

He's been on edge so long the orgasm tears through him like a shock. He shivers and quakes as you lick him clean. When you kiss him, he tastes the mix of your come and his spent dick gives an involuntary twitch of interest.

"More?" you ask with a quirk of your brow.

Leo gives you a lazy smile that's sated and happy as his limbs give a final shudder and fall limp. "Later?"

You can't remember a time you've seen him look so relaxed. "Sure." You stroke his chest and curl into his side. There's nowhere better to be. "Later, I can do."

#leonardo x reader #tmnt x reader #tmnt leonardo x reader #leonardo x male reader #male reader #top male reader #mutant reader #my writing

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calif0rnia-lovers · 5 years ago

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It's funny how you haven't changed a bit, but you're twice as pretty.

Summary: Despite your relationship ending years ago, Bishop has spent your time apart repairing your car in hopes it’d allow him to see you again.

A/N: Randomly came up with this idea a while back when thinking about the lack of backstory for Bishop. Probably trash but...I’m doing whatever I can to drag you nonbelievers into the most deserving Mayan’s lane.

Pairing: Bishop Losa x Reader

Warning: I know I said there’d be fluff but all I got was angst.

Request: Bishop x his ex reunite.

Words: 1.7K

You sit on the steps of your front porch. Your elbows rest against your bare knees, your chin in the palms of your hands. The passing cars and teenagers laughing and strolling beneath the streetlights hold your attention.

Despite the setting sun, the air is humid. Your hair is pulled up, resting at the top of your crown, your shoulders are nearly bare-apart from the thin straps of the sundress you wear.

You've been waiting in the same spot for nearly fifteen minutes.

Leaving now. Headed your way.

The message from Bishop was one you'd been waiting for all day. He'd stopped by your job at the start of the week. Unannounced. Your arrival back to town had come as a surprise. He was the first person you thought about once you pulled your uHaul truck into the driveway of your house.

Was he still here?

Your answer arrived three weeks later when you bumped into him at the store.

"I was hoping I could see you, Friday. I have something I wanna show you." He'd shared when he stopped by your office this Monday.

You're waiting for the roar of his bike, maybe that's why you don't notice that he's arrived until a set of headlights shine across your driveway. Beneath the streetlights, you can make out the black car he’s driving. The familiar grille and license plate halt your action of getting up.

Cutting the engine, Bishop climbs out, the grin on his face growing as he takes in your expression.

You open your mouth to speak, but all you can put together is a soft laugh of disbelief.

The last time you saw the 1969 Dodge Charger RT, in driveable condition, you were twenty years old. Going into the summer before your junior year at Berkeley. Spending summers with your dad was something you'd done ever since you were a kid. He'd told he'd pay for whatever car you wanted. You'd picked out the abandoned Charger sitting in the yard of Mr. Gonzalez’s home. He had a problem with collecting vintage cars, and never actually paying to get them fixed. Your dad spent a pretty penny to get it out of Gonzalez’s lot but left it to you to fix it up.

Naturally, you had to figure out the cheapest way.

You stopped by Romero Brothers Scrap in hopes of finding the needed parts, and someone who knew enough to fix the car. Instead, you found a 27-year-old mechanic who thought teasing you about the “scrapper” was the best way to flirt.

With a portion of your earnings from your summer job and the granting of one date, if the car could actually drive out the lot, you left the Charger in Bishop’s hands. He'd spent the entire summer fixing it up.

Did he know much about fixing up old muscle cars?

Fuck no, but he figured it out.

In all honesty, you hadn’t expected much, but Bishop somehow managed to get a car that had been parked for nearly 15 years up and running again.

I guess the possibility of getting to take the pretty girl out was one hell of a motivator.

That car sparked a whirlwind relationship that spanned across the entire summer. It even spilled into the first semester of your senior year. He had to work on the car when he wasn’t working his actual job. This led to a number of late nights, you keeping him company under the lights of the garage. Bishop even taught you enough to learn your way around beneath the hood, and how to get it running again if it ever broke down.

Even as you'd both moved on with your lives, the car was the only thing you kept from your time with him. Everything else went in the trash the moment he decided he’d rather enlist then stay with you.

The Charger stayed with you for years, until the accident after your graduation from grad school. The passenger side had nearly fully caved in from the impact. Instead of paying the money to have it fixed, you left it at the same scrapyard that helped with the initial repairs.

Bishop first saw it, abandoned in the yard, after he returned home once his stint with the military was finally complete.

"I can count on my hand the times I've ever made you speechless." Bishop watches as his words pull your attention from the car. Your eyes meet his, the smile that lights up your face awakening something inside him he hasn’t felt in a long time.

You blink before shaking your head.

"I didn't know you knew how to drive a stick," you giggle as his hands wrap around yours. “I thought you only knew how to ride a bike.”

Tugging you to your feet, Bishop arches his brow as he releases you.

"I'm pretty sure I taught you how to drive a stick," he recounts, the memories causing you both to share a smile. Taking in your sheepish expression, he chuckles. “Who buys a car they don’t how to drive?”

Your shoulders shrug as you lightly push him aside.

“Someone hoping to attract cute guys with their badass car.”

Bishop softly shakes his head.

“Hey,” you smile as you turn on your heels. Your playful eyes meet his. “Worked on you, didn’t it?”

Bishop’s eyes follow you as you send a wink his way before moving to walk around the car. You run your palm along the surface of the hood before ducking your head into the driver seat window for a look at the interior.

“It wasn’t the car,” he admits as you glance up to meet his gaze.

Biting back your smile, you push your weight off the door before nodding towards the hood.

“Does she still ride like she used to?”

Bishop shrugs, his arms crossing over his chest.

His eyes meet yours, the corner of his lips turning up into a smile. “Wanna go for a ride?”

If asked about it tomorrow, you’ll blame it on the car. All of the shared memories must have caste the two of you in a shower of nostalgia. One responsible for the butterflies which flutter every time he steals a glance towards the passenger seat. The easy nature of the conversation that fills the car with the laugh you’d fallen in love with back when you were twenty, and still trying to figure out if you actually believed in soulmates.

It is also responsible for your destination.

It’s not until you’re two hours deep in conversation that you glance out the window to realize you recognize your surroundings.

The secluded spot is one you can still find, blindfolded, after all the time that has passed.

It is your spot.

At least that’s what Bishop told you the first time he took you there.

It provides a perfect view of the town you both tried to escape when you were younger. The distant lights and muffled sounds always seeming prettier from here.

The silence which fills the car is one that only comes from the comfort of being alone with someone you love.

You’re seated in the passenger seat, legs crossed, back resting against the door. Your eyes steal the changes of Bishop in segments out of the fear of attracting his attention for staring a second too long.

His head rests back against the seat, his left arm dangling out the rolled-down window. His fingers tap against the door along to the tune of the song playing quietly from the radio. His eyes focus on the view of the city just past the windshield.

“It’s funny how some things never really change,” he notes.

As your eyes pass from him to the windshield you can’t help but wonder if the view is what he’s referring to.

Because from where you sit, all you can think of is how he’s right. At least when it comes to the heat radiating across the surface of your skin each time you look towards the driver’s seat.

The last time he was behind the wheel of your car you two were in a much more compromising position, yet coincidentally in the same location.

Your eyes drop down to your fingers as you concentrate on trying to smooth out the skirt of your dress.

The action isn’t enough to suppress the image of his fingers pressed against the softness of your hips, yours wound tight in his hair. The way his skin shone beautifully beneath the moonlight, how the cramped driver’s seat never seemed to allow you both to get close enough.

When your eyes lift they find he’s watching you. The faint smile on his lips lets you know you’re not the only one who remembers.

You shift forward in your seat.

Your fingers lift to trace the worn leather of his kutte, trailing to the patch resting against his chest.

“This is different,” you note, your fingers outlining the stitched lettering. “I expected a much different uniform if I ever saw you again.”

“Yeah,” he huffs, his eyes dropping down to follow your fingers.

His gaze lingers, his touch brushing against the knuckle of your bare ring finger.

As his finger rubs against the soft skin, he notes the lack of a tan line.

His brow furrows, and you think he’s gonna ask the question on his mind but he doesn’t.

There’s no need for him too.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, a sigh leaving your chest as your mind briefly drifts to your bedside table. The overpriced ring presented to you during the summer after your senior year still lays tucked beneath the contents of the drawer. Your nose scrunches in irritation as you think back on the man who gave it to you.

“Yeah. Well, that definitely didn’t last as long as I thought it would.” You admit.

Bishop’s gaze lifts to study your features as you remove your hand from his. Your expression doesn’t provide any insight as to exactly how long it lasted. He also knows he has no right to ask. Not when he’d said he’d rather you accept another man’s proposal then wait around for him to return to a town he wanted to escape.

“It was his loss.”

“I guess so...Anyway.” A tiny smile finds your lips as you motion around you. “Thank you for this. I can’t believe you actually thought to do this for me.”

Bishop returns the smile, his fingers finding yours.

His words come out quietly as his lips press a kiss against your knuckles. “Pienso en ti siempre.”

Releasing your hand, he gives you a final smile before shifting to refasten his seatbelt. You move to do the same as the engine roars back to life.

Just as you’re about to fasten your seat belt you lean over the gear shift.

Your lips press against the warmth of his cheek, the action stopping him from shifting gears.

His touch is warm against the back of your neck, the pressure he applies willing you to decide if its best to pull back or tilt your lips to meet his.

#what's a story without a little angst #let me know what you think?#imagines #bishop losa #bishop losa x reader #mayans mc #mayans imagines

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kimistorm · 4 years ago

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It's All a Little Strange || Chapter 5 (Dr. Strange x Reader)

You yawned and made your way through Kamar-Taj. You had just come from an overnight shift and even though it was just starting to get bright, you were already tired. You were on your way to your room to change out of your scrubs when you passed by a certain dark-haired man, “Strange!” you yelled at him and his head perked up at the sound of his name. You waved a hand and he noticed you, “meet you at the courtyard when you can!” he gave you a thumbs up to show he heard it and you continued on your way.

Once you were safely in your room, you changed out of your scrubs and pulled on the layers of blue and green fabric. You then changed your sneakers for the leather boots that were a part of your outfit. You tightened a belt here, straightened the shirt there and you exited your room and back out to the clearing.

“Mordo wants to spar with you later.” You explained when Strange entered the clearing in the courtyard. You didn’t wait long until he showed up. “So, I’m going to help walk you through it before you face him.” The air around you crinkled into reflective fractals as the mirror realm made itself known. “That way, you won’t be completely obliterated.” You added smugly and walked into the mirror realm.

“How’s Christine?” he asked when he entered the mirror realm.

“Really?” you asked in exasperation and placed a hand on your hip, “I’m about to teach you how to spar and you ask me how Christine is?”

“She hasn’t answered my email.” He explained.

“She’s fine.” You frowned, “she’s justified for ignoring you.” You drew out a glowing blue shield in your hand and ran straight at Strange who just barely managed to dodge out of the way. “Always be prepared.” You tsked and with a flick of your wrist the shield transformed into your weapon of choice. An icy chakram. Typically you wielded two, but you figured you’d go easy on Strange. Just for the warm up. You ran at him again with your chakram coming around to land a solid hit.

“What am I supposed to do?” he cried out in a panic and dodged your weapon.

“Conjure a weapon,” you sliced at him, “a shield,” you sliced at him again, “or, just dodge them all.” He ducked under a third slice and you dropped to the ground. You placed your free hand on the ground and swiped your legs at his legs and caused him to topple to the ground. You jumped back onto your feet and lightly placed a booted foot on his chest. “I win.” You stepped off of him and walked away as he scrambled up to his feet.

“That wasn’t fair, I didn’t have a weapon.” He protested.

“Not everything will be fair.” You chastised and dismissed your chakram. You turned back to look at him, “do you know how to summon a weapon?”

“Not something like that.” He gestured to where your chakram was and shook his head.

“I wasn’t asking if you could summon a chakram,” you turned fully to him and crossed your arms across your chest, “I was asking if you could summon a weapon.” After a moment of him looking at you dubiously you continued, “have you figured out how to use a spell? A whip? Have you been attending the classes at all?”

“Of course I have.” He retorted and pulled his hands apart while summoning strings of bright red energy in between.

“There you go.” You smiled. “Again!” you summoned your ice chakram again and ran at him again. You did the same moves as you did before but this time he blocked your slices with the strings of energy. When you went down to swipe his feet out from under him he jumped above it and onto you. You transformed the chakram into a shield and held it above you to keep Strange from getting any closer than an arms length from you. “Better.” You nodded. You brought one hand away from the shield and then shoved it at the shield. The shield burst out with a burst of air and Strange was thrown off of you as you jumped up to your feet.

“Mordo likes to use the Staff of the Living Tribunal.” You explained and drew out a glowing red staff in the air.

“The Staff of the Living Tribunal?” Strange questioned and looked at you in confusion.

“I’m sure he’ll explain it to you.” You dismissed his question, “for now. Make sure you can counter these attacks.” You ran at him again with the staff raised above your head for a downward strike. You whirled around him last moment and prodded his shoulder with the staff. The two of you continued this dance of you giving light (or not so light) jabs everywhere on Strange’s body while he valiantly tried to block the hits. One good hit to the back of his knees and he fell to the ground.

“Do you know how to make a shield?” you questioned and dismissed the staff to imply to Strange that you weren’t going to attack him again. He got back up and dismissed the strings of energy as well.

“No.” Strange shook his head.

“That’s really no surprise, shields are much harder to conjure than weapons.” You agreed.

“Why?” Strange asked.

“Summon your weapon.” You nodded to him and he complied. “Now notice this,” you got close to Strange and pointed to the strings of energy, “your weapon is very wild. Flicks of it are going here, there, everywhere. It disappears here, but reappears here.” You stepped back and made eye contact with Strange, “you don’t need to have perfect control over the other dimensions to create your weapon.”

You drew out a circle for a shield and grabbed it. When it came into contact with your hand intricate patterns of arcs and circles appeared within the circle to form a solid shield. “This requires more focus.” Strange carefully scrutinized the glowing blue shield in your hand. “Notice the lack of flickering within the shape and the lack of sparks flying off of it.”

“It’s a different material.” Strange observed the different color from the standard red.

“Yes.” You agreed, “I like this material, but it’s also a different way to form a shield. This way is one of the slower ways. However, this way proves its own advantages. It’s a little less complicated, and it’s much easier to transform from a shield,” you flicked your wrist and spikes protruded from the edge, “to this chakram. Of course, it’s a matter of personal taste.” You dismissed the chakram and it dissolved into blue and white flakes, “you can do it with the red interdimensional matter.” This time you stuck your hands out and twisted them around with a few dynamic movements and two shields appeared in your hands. “Even with it being the same material as your weapon.” You gestured to Strange, “it doesn’t shed sparks.”

“And this is all because you have better control over the matter?” Strange clarified and examined the shield in your hand.

“Yes and no.” You shrugged, “the nature of the shield is also not one where it sheds sparks. Look at the Ancient One, she has extreme control over interdimensional matter, but the portals she creates still sheds sparks. But, her control over the matter allows her to create the shield. Does that make sense?” you questioned.

Strange nodded, “because of her control, she can summon a shield.”

“Exactly,” you agreed, “look at it like a requirement. You need to possess a certain level of control to create the shield.”

“And you can form this into a chakram?” Strange questioned and backed up a bit so he wouldn’t get his head chopped off when you transformed the shield.

“Correct.” You confirmed and with a flick of your wrist the shield transformed into a chakram. “Would you like to learn how to do this?” you questioned.

“Teach me.” Strange demanded.

✯✯✯

The two of you had been practicing for quite awhile. Strange was obviously getting frustrated and you were finding it hard to be patient. “It’s my hands!” Strange cried out and held out his trembling hands, “they can’t control it.”

“It is not your hands.” You snapped, “you’ve seen Master Hamir. He can form a shield no problem. He has even more control over interdimensional matter than me.”

“Yes, but his arms are stable.” Strange retorted exasperatedly, “mine shake!”

“This isn’t a physical thing Strange.” You shook your head, “think of it as your astral projection is controlling the matter.”

“How does that even work?” he asked incredulously.

You were finding it harder and harder to deal with his frustration and endless questions, “it just does okay?” you nearly shouted at him, “try thinking about it like this. Your astral projection is unaffected by your damaged nerves in the physical realm. Therefore, you can’t chalk up your inability to do this because of your shaking hands.”

“But-”

“The Ancient One proved you wrong did she not?” you shouted, “your shaking hands had nothing to do with your inability to create a portal! I already explained to you that it’s very difficult to make a shield, it took you a long time to even figure out how to pull matter from another dimension, you can’t expect that you’ll be able to figure out how to form a shield in less time!” you took a deep breath and walked away from Strange.

“(l/n)-”

“Give me a second Strange.” You forced through your teeth. You took more deep breaths and tried to walk off your frustration and anger. You then decided to sit down and try some meditation. So that’s what you did. You sat down on the cold stone, closed your eyes, and counted your breaths. In, 2, 3. Out, 2, 3. In, 2, 3. Out, 2, 3. Your anger quickly dissolved into fatigue as the stress and exertion that you’ve been placing upon yourself for the past few days. You tried to stay awake, but your eyes were already closed and you felt yourself fall asleep.

Strange noticed you sway a bit before you fell forwards as you drifted out of consciousness. He rushed forward and caught you before your face collided with the rough stone. He fixed his hold on you and then picked you up bridal style while your head lolled about. You were completely out of it. He gazed down at your sleeping face. Your (e/c) eyes were unseeing to the world around you and your (h/c) hair splayed out neatly in his arms.

He didn’t know where your room was; you never showed him. So he decided to bring you to his room. He attempted to hold his hand out while the other made a circle to the portal and surprisingly enough, it worked. The portal opened up directly into his room. He entered through the flickering circle out of the mirror dimension and into his room where he laid you on his bed. You curled up on yourself like you were cold and he pulled the blankets over you.

“What have you been doing?” he murmured to himself and sat in a chair and opened one of the new books Wong had given him, “sure hope you didn’t do that at the hospital.”

Masterlist

#dr strange #doctor strange #dr strange x reader #mcu #mcu x reader #marvel #my work #kimi's writing

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babyflossy · 5 years ago

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i miss you | p.js

pairing: jisung x reader

summary: the months you spend apart on a study abroad program in paris are almost worth it just to be in each other’s arms again.

genre: fluff

warnings: unedited, cringy french that my french tutor would laugh at me for

word count: 1.6k

when you had told jisung you were applying to a study abroad program, he had plastered on a smile and told you he thought it was a great idea. you had always tried your hardest to be his biggest supporter when he had a comeback, or when he went on tour, the least he could do was repay you in this way. what he didn't tell you, was how scared he was for you to be so far away from him for so long.

sure, your relationship had survived the early mornings and the late nights of his seemingly never-ending work days, it had held strong through the weeks you couldn’t see each other face to face. seeing you had been his biggest motivation on so many occasions, whenever he was anxious to try something new, a new concept or a new show, you were right there beside him; physically or on the other end of the phone line.

so why was it so hard for him to accept this? the one thing you needed in return for all the things you did for him, and he was having such a hard time finding the power to get excited with you.

paris. that’s were your school placed you when you successfully passed the interviews. paris, a twelve hour flight and a seven hour time difference. but when he saw how your eyes lit up whenever you spoke about it, he couldn’t bring himself to voice his worries. he would brave it with a smile, just like you always did.

you were due to spend a semester there, a whole three months on the other side of the world to him. jisung wasn’t sure why he found it so difficult to process, being away from you for so long. what if you found a french boy that you liked more than him? or what if you loved it so much you decided to move there? he didn’t know what he would do if you left seoul for europe.

the departure date you had typed into his phone calendar approached faster than any day ever had, and it was with teary eyes he sent you off the airport alone, unable to risk being spotted in public. you had spent weeks promising to call every day, that it wouldn’t be that different to when he was on tour.

but it would be, he knew that. even on tour, you had always found time to surprise him at different venues with the help of the other dreamies, and when he was kept from you due to his schedule, there was the knowledge that if something bad happened, he was never that far away.

paris wasn’t just a quick drive, though, and the reality set in after he received the last text from you in the same country, telling him you had put your phone onto airplane mode but you would call him when you landed.

the promise was kept, of course, yours always were, and he listened to you ramble tiredly about the flight whilst you spoke hesitant french to the airport staff, trying to find your way to baggage claim. at that moment, the only positive he could think of was how nice your voice sounded speaking french, and how much he wanted you to teach him.

over the next months, you made a point to call jisung at every opportunity you had; in the early hours of the paris mornings before you had fallen asleep and jisung was already waking up for his days, right before he fell asleep as you were cooking dinner. you would facetime and go about your tasks together, finding comfort in the company.

every now and then you would have nights where the longing you felt for your little seoul apartment was overwhelming. where you would wish for nothing but being in your boyfriend’s arms, breathing in the smell of his bodywash and wearing his hoodies. but, alas, you were on the opposite side of the globe with nothing but one of his hoodies and the picture of him as your lockscreen. and your homescreen. and your laptop background.

when the halfway mark passed, jisung felt a little better knowing you coming home was an event on the distant horizon. the last thought he would have before he fell asleep was you next to him again, the smell of your shampoo and your perfume and the tinkling of your jewellery lulling him into a peaceful slumber. the memories of the nights he spent cuddled up to you in your apartment, or falling asleep on the couch in the dorm's living room were almost painful for him when he knew it would be at least another month until he could make new ones with you.

sometimes when he fished one of his shirts out of the bottom of his wardrobe, he would get a drift of your washing detergent, or the candles you burned before you fell asleep. in those moments, he would reach for his phone, texting you a sad message of how much he missed you and wait for the ringing when you face timed him, a melancholy smile on your features in the soft light.

one night after a particularly hard practice session where he had been scolded by the dance teacher, he collapsed on his bed, mentally and physically exhausted. just when he was thinking of heading to bed, the familiar ringtone he had set for exclusively you cut through the gloomy air of his bedroom, a spark of hope shooting through him.

"jisung! how was practice?" your voice crackles over the line and he frowns at the screen, watching you shield your eyes as you stared down at your phone.

"i got shouted at," he mumbles quickly, still trying to figure out where you are. over the time you spent in paris, jisung had gotten to know your surroundings, the different backgrounds in your rented flat, the cafe you frequented, the convenience store at the bottom of your street. but he couldn't make out where you were. "where are you?"

"look!" you beam at him, turning the camera around to show the view in front of you. before you stands the eiffel tower, sheets of rain distorting the picture to your boyfriend. "i know it's raining, but i wanted you to see it! i haven't had time to do proper sight-seeing yet."

"y/n, it's not just raining, it's storming!" jisung exclaims in surprise, watching the monument glitter under the dark clouds, "you're going to catch a cold!"

"i'll be fine, jisung! i promise!" and your promises were never wrong. “but look at it! isn’t it beautiful!”

“it is, i wish i could see it in person with you!” the words come out quieter than he expected and he’s unsure if you’ll be able to hear him over the pouring rain.

“then i’ll have to bring you here one day,” the camera turns to face you again, hair drenched, mascara collecting under your eyes. in that moment, he thinks he’s never seen such a dazzling sight.

the last stretch of your time in paris is painful for jisung, but the days slip through your fingers as you prepare to fly back to seoul. you spend the last week packing your things and saying goodbye to all the friends you had made, promising to stay in touch so you could practice your french more.

the night before your flight home, jisung calls you one last time, but when you hang up there is no heaviness in his heart, just the burning anticipation of you coming home again.

“y/n!” the voice that shouts it is so painfully familiar, but it sounds so different in person than over the phone. you freeze, eyes scanning the crowd in front of you to meet the pair you’re looking for. when they do meet, you think you can feel tears fill your eyes.

in an instant, a body collides with yours. the fabric of a hoodie is pressed into your face, a bodywash you would recognise anywhere floating up your nose, the arms you had missed so much wrapping themselves around you. for a prolongued minute you stay like that, jisung’s cheek pressed into the top of your head nestled under his chin.

the mask covering his face prevents you from kissing in front of the crowd but he holds you at arm’s length to examine your face. when he’s satisfied you still look like the same old y/n, he buries himself into you again.

“i missed you so much,” your words are muffled by his clothes and only then do you feel the wrapping crinkling behind your back.

“you have no idea how much i missed you,” he mumbles when he pulls away, pulling the brightest purple flowers from behind your back. the look of surprise on your face makes him laugh gleefully, still not believing you’re finally back in front of him. “they’re iris flowers, apparently they’re french. something to remind you of it, i guess.” there’s a blush on his cheeks as he sputters out his explanation, free hand coming to rub the back of his neck nervously.

the tears in your eyes spill over as you launch yourself back onto him, the both of you stumbling back slightly before jisung can catch his footing. “i love you so much.” you press your lips to the expanse of his exposed jawline, hands gripping his shoulder tightly.

“i love you so much as well, but you gotta teach me how to say that in french.”

“mon coeur est à toi pour toujours, jisung.”

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mavrisfanfics · 5 years ago

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[Request] [Smut] Leon x Reader - Why I love you

Fandom: Pokemon SWSH

Pairing: Leon x Reader

Words: 3169

Warnings: 18+ themes, seriously, don’t read if you’re under 18

Notes: My last Request, was from last June... This ask was started in December... Life has changed so much since then. I can’t believe only now am I finishing this.

My first time writing smut. I tried to give it a romantic spin to be more my style. No idea if it’s good, I don’t dare to review it again.

Enjoy!

—___—___—___—___—___—

Battling was exciting for you. It was exciting to work with your team, your friends, towards victory. It was exciting, to be on the edge of defeat and make those amazing comebacks. It felt exciting to, sometimes, fall over the edge and see the flames of determination of your opponent shinning brighter above you.

But fighting Leon was different. Instead of the fiery determination most opponents gave you, fighting Leon sent waves of electricity through you like you had never felt before. The way he turned into a skilled strategist in the battle field made your skin tingle, seeking something you couldn't quite pin point at first.

It took you claiming the Champion title for you to realize that what his presence made you feel wasn't just the excitement of a challenge, to defeat the undefeated. It was desire in its purest form. Your heart ached for him throughout the Gym Challenge, the crush you had on him from the moment you met him slowly developed into something bigger and uncontrollable over time. But, during the final battle, your body gave in as well. It was knowing that your whole being loved him that perhaps pushed you to confess your feeling for him afterwards.

Lying in bed, you took a trip down memory lane, revisiting that intoxicating feeling. The memories of that time had been getting fuzzy, since it had been a few good couple of months since you had defeated Leon and became Champion yourself. Maybe that's why you had decided to clear out your day and challenge him at the Battle Tower a few hours earlier. Battling in general was interesting to you, but no challenger had been as exciting as Leon.

However, you had to admit that winning against him hurt. It hurt you when you took away his Champion title, made you feel like you were stripping him of a part of his soul, even though he was openly proud of you. Hours earlier, you felt the same when he refused to properly look at you after another loss for his record. He had, once again, announced how proud he was of how strong you had become, but you couldn't help but think he resented you for sweeping his dream from his grasp and remind him of it with today's battle.

The fact you were in bed all alone past midnight didn't help to reassure you from such thoughts. Leon was supposed to be home hours ago, but so far there was no sign of him. Your texts were ignored and your calls went unanswered, making you increasingly worried and scared.

Was he really mad at you? What if he hated you? Could your thrill-seeking have hurt him and, by extent your relationship?

Doubt and anxiety drowned you in the dark of night, unable to reach the surface of rationality. You were pulled out of it by the sound of the front door of your apartment unlocking. You remained frozen in the dark, not knowing what to do.

Leon entered you bedroom slowly and quietly, not even turning on the light. You quietly watched as he used the moon and city lights streaming through the window to guide himself though the room. You saw him take off his clothes until he was in nothing but his boxers, and carefully slide into bed. It was then that he noticed you were very much awake and staring at him. He gave you a small but honest smile and a loving look.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you up." He whispered, as he finished joining you under the sheets.

"It's okay, I wasn't asleep. I wanted to wait for you." You admitted. You heart strangled itself in doubts when you noticed Leon stayed on his side of the bed and made no effort to meet you in the middle for cuddles, as usual.

"Yeah, sorry about that, love. Had some last minute things to take care of and-" Leon looked you in the eye and turned visibly concerned, probably noticing the mental storm reflected in your eyes "(Y/N)... Is something wrong?"

You opened your mouth to reply, but you choked on your "yes" and released a small squeak instead. You swallowed hard and looked away for a second. You took a deep breath and stared deep into his amber eyes.

"Leon, do you hate me?" His eyes widened at your question. He leaned up on his elbow quickly, mouth agape.

"Of course not, love! What made you think that?!" You looked away.

"I just... Aren't you mad that I took your Champion title, your unbeatable streak? You put so much work into it... And then I came along and... I know me and my Pokémon are strong, but don't you feel like I shouldn't have beaten you back then? Because... I sometimes think it was unfair because... I don't think I'm as strong as you. I fought you for the thrill, mostly, and somehow won. I fought you again today just for the thrill too, but I was... secretly hoping you'd win, as it should have been from the beginning." You finally looked at him. Leon was frozen, listening to your confession. "Don't you think I should have lost?"

Leon closed his mouth and you saw his Adam's apple bob up and down. He took a deep breath and you prepared yourself for the truth.

"Of course not!" You widened your eyes at his answer. He leaned closer and you saw the glint of determination light up his eyes. "(Y/N), you won fair and square! Your Pokémon are strong, and you're smart and amazing! You and your Pokémon trust each other to the edge of the world and back, and you all gave your best during those battles. You won with every right!" He then looked away.

"I mean, I am a bit... sad. I got used to being 'Leon, The Unbeatable Champion of Galar', after all." His amber orbs turned to you again, slowly warming your soul with the flaming love they held. "But I wanted, and still want, for the trainers of Galar to work together and be the best version of themselves. You winning against me was just a show of what we all can become. You're a beacon of hope for many, for me, for showing that anything is possible and... Babe, I couldn't be more happy to lose to you. You need to be pretty damn amazing to pull of such a thing and... Hell, if that isn't why I love you!"

You stood silent, mouth agape, as you tried to process it all. His words and his smile warmed you to the core, like the first sun rays that break through the clouds at the end of a storm, bringing in hope and light to your world.

"I love you."

It wasn't the first time you said those words, but the feeling that pushed them forward was stronger than you ever felt. Leon must have felt the meaning behind them, since a tint of pink covered his cheeks. You weaved your fingers into the hairs at the nape of his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

You poured all your feelings into it, leaving you both breathless. When you eventually broke away, your hand slid from the back of his neck to his cheek. You caressed his skin, softly, with your thumb.

"What would I do without you?..." Your whisper faded into nothing, carefully leaving the atmosphere undisturbed. Leon smiled. He carefully took hold of the hand caressing his cheek and, after locking his fingers through yours, he put a soft peck on your wrist, right over your pulse point, making your heart skip a beat.

"You'd continue to be as amazing as you are now." Leon replied, pecking one of your knuckles. A giddy smile took over your lips and you couldn't help the urge to kiss him. You pushed him into the bed, hand still intertwined with his, and leaned over him to kiss him.

Your tongues danced against each other, sending waves of bliss through the both of you. When you eventually broke the kiss, you gazed into each other's eyes, all sorts of feelings being traded in that single look. You both leaned into another kiss, then another after that, then countless others. Leon's free hand took a spot on your hip and slowly caressed up and down your side, sending tingles through your skin.

Your shirt riled up slightly during it all and, when his hand grazed your skin, the tingles turned into a wave of sparks that shot through your body. You squeezed his hand, before sliding your hand off of his to tangle it in his hair. With a very light pull, he let you move his head to the side, giving you access to his neck. Your mouth latched onto it immediately, suckling dark marks into his skin.

His hands kept roaming up and down your sides, getting bolder by the second. They slipped under your shirt, skimmed over the underside of your chest, before they went back down and traced the waistline of your pants, pulling them down slightly.

His thumb slipped under the waist band to caress the softer skin underneath, taunting you. You dreamt of his hands going lower, but they remained on the same spot, low enough to give you expectations, but way higher than where you wanted them.

You let go of his neck for a second to lightly nibble on his earlobe. You heard Leon inhale sharper than usual.

"Lower." You whispered. There was no need for more words. Leon's hand's slowly drifted towards your ass instead, making you growl in frustration . You raised your head to look at his smirk. Frustrated, with no mood to play around, you lightly twisted one of his nipples between your fingers, which pulled a groan form Leon.

"Impatient..." You heard him mutter, smirk still present. You smirked back at him, but it was quickly wiped out when he pulled your hips flush against his. The feeling of his clothed bulge through your pants made wetness pool at your core. You released a breathy moan at the feeling, and grinded against him, pulling out a similar response from Leon.

Leon's lips attacked yours fiercely, and he finally moved to pull off your shirt. As soon as it was off, he took hold of your hips again and switched positions. With him now above you, Leon took the chance to appreciate the sight of your desperate self, skin flushed with desire and messy hair spread out over the pillows.

"You're so beautiful..." He breathed, as he leaned in to give your neck a dose of the same attention you'd given him. However, it didn't take him long to spread his attention to your collar bone, chest, belly, all the way down to the waistband of your pants, licking and kissing your skin, with the occasional nibble along the way. You noticed he tried, as usual, to not leave any noticeable marks, in consideration to the spotlight the Champion title put on you, as he knew you liked to keep your private life as far away from it as possible. It warmed your heart to know that, in the heat of the moment, he still payed attention to the little things.

Your mind snapped back to the moment when you felt his hands pull down your pants. He carefully slid them all the way off, and then, after throwing the clothes towards some corner, carefully caressed your legs all the way up until his hands reached your things. He kneaded the soft flesh, fingers sometimes sliding oh so close to where you wanted them, before driving away.

You squirmed in his grasp and whined, wordlessly requesting for him to touch you were you needed him the most. Leon kept massaging your thighs, but refused to move closer to your core, even after you spread your legs wider for him.

"Patience, babe." He told you after you released another needy whine. Even so, he relented, and let his hands wander to your groin.

He started by circling your clit, putting light pressure on it. It was too little for you, but just enough to pull out a sigh from you. He kept changing the pace, faster, slower, harder, lighter… Each time you were sure he was falling into a rhythm, he'd switch it up, which was making you more frustrated and desperate.

"More…" You breathed out. Obeying your wish, Leon let go of your clit and dragged his fingers lower.

You couldn't contain the moan that left you when you felt one of his fingers break into you. He started dragging his finger in and out of you at a slow pace, curling his fingers in search of the perfect spot. Leon found it fast, used to your body by now, and started picking up the pace.

Each time he pressed into your spot, a new wave of electricity ran through your body, each one adding to the previous, pooling in your belly and squeezing the air out of your lungs in the form of moans, whines and whispered declarations of love for the man between your legs.

Leon soon added another finger into the mix, but when he saw no difference in your reaction, he finally dove in.

Your body arched off the bed as soon as you felt his lips seal around your clit, and a scream got stuck in your throat. That scream eased out of you as a moan, when Leon started flicking his tongue over your clit.

As the pleasure built, you lost control of your body, squirming under your lover's relentless attention. Leon wrapped his free arm around your hips to keep you in place, as his mouth and fingers kept working you towards the edge. You felt it getting close, so your hands held onto Leon's hair, bracing for the incoming fall.

"Are you close, princess?" You heard him ask. You tried to formulate an answer, but your mind was too cloudy to reply faster than the edge was approaching. You gladly took the fall, the heat inside your belly exploded into a flurry of fireworks that raced through your muscles, releasing the tension your body had held onto. Leon lapped at your juices like his life depended on it, determined to keep you in that high for as long as possible.

When you came back down, Leon was staring at you, drops of your juices holding onto his beard for dear life, and an animalistic hunger barely contained within his eyes.

"Shit, I never tire of seeing you like that, princess." Leon spoke with a low voice, his need dripping through his voice and staining his boxers.

You sat up to kiss him, the taste of yourself filling your mouth. He pulled your body flush into his and let his hands roam your curves, while you dragged yours down his chest and towards your main meal. You pulled the band of his boxers just low enough to let his erection spring out from its confines. You took a hold of it and pumped your wrist.

Leon moaned into the kiss and his hips pumped into your hand, seeking the sweet friction he needed. You didn't get to pump him three times before Leon broke away and pushed you into the bed again. He took a hold of your wrists and held them over your head.

"Leon" You whined "Lemme take care of you now." Leon kissed you deeply, his grasp never relaxing on your wrists.

"No, princess" He said, after breaking away from your lips. "I want to show you just how much I love you, it's about you tonight."

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach at his words. Leon released your hands so he could properly remove his boxers, and you immediately wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him back to your lips.

As soon as the boxers were lost in the darkness, Leon dragged his tip along you folds, spreading your juices down his length. You then helped him line up to your entrance, and he finally pressed in.

You moaned at the feeling of Leon filling you, and he followed soon after with his own moan when he felt your walls squeeze him.

He bottomed out with a couple of weak thrusts and held that position, so you both could bask in the feeling of finally being connected.

You pulled him into a kiss and that's when he started to move at a slow, lazy pace. You thrusted up your hips to meet his, slowly coaching him to speed up. You broke the kiss to pay attention to his neck. You felt his groan vibrate through his body, under your hands, when you suckled on his weak spot. Leon thrusted faster, working harder to bring you together to ecstasy. You bucked against him as well to meet him halfway, which was more than enough to make him hit a spot inside you that made you see stars. Heat quickly pooled in your belly once more, growing with each thrust from you both.

Compliments and words of admiration fell from his lips, and you responded in kind, your love for him too much to contain within your chest.

His words dragged off to silence, and you felt his thrusts loose rhythm, a sign he was close. You pulled his forehead against yours and kept the pace of your hips, determined to bring him to completion.

"I love you." You looked into his eyes, which were glazed with pleasure. You tried to convey as much meaning as you could into those words, afraid Leon and the world would never be able to understand the depth of your feelings for him. Leon didn't reply, instead he brought down one of his hands to your clit and circled it with his fingers, determined to bring you with him over the edge.

The pleasure and the feeling collided hard within you and exploded into a supernova of hot white that overloaded every one of your nerves and shot you and Leon into a world only the two and you and your love for each other existed.

The world slowly drifted back into your conscious. Leon was collapsed on top of you, face hidden in your neck. You felt his length slip from within you, a drop of his juices followed right after, mixing with your on the sheets.

"I love you too." You heard him whisper into your skin. The words pulled a silly grin into your lips.

Leon rolled out from you and into his side and pulled you into him.

"Don't ever doubt that." He said, before laying a kiss in your hair. Exhausted, you cuddled into his chest, while trying to come up with an answer, but before you knew, you were off to the world of dreams, just glad to know you and Leon would always be there for one another.

#leon pokemon #champion leon #leon x reader #leon x reader smut #x reader #reader insert #smut #I hope t*mblr doesn't block the sin #leon x reader lemon #lemon

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deancas-fanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

Hardest Part is Letting Go

Part 2/7

Pairing: Dean Winchester/Castiel

Fic Summary: Upon his diagnosis of a terminal illness, Dean vows to spend the rest of his short life with Cas by his side, completing his bucket list while learning what it really means to live and love.

Chapter Summary: Dean and Cas cross another item off Dean's bucket list. Shameless smut ensues.

Part 1

available on ao3

Days quickly turned into weeks as Dean and Cas continued to spend every day together. Some days that would stay in and watch old movies together and some days they would venture out into the city, needing a change of scenery. It was the end of September and quickly becoming bitterly cold. Earlier that day they drove into Lawrence to grab coffee from the quaint coffee shop where they had their first date.

They sipped their coffees by the large stone fireplace in the corner, reminiscing over a shared piece of coffee cake. It was nearly five years to the date that they started dating and it seemed a fitting way to celebrate. Dean still remembers exactly how he felt when he arrived and saw Cas through the large bay window. He arrived early and was sipping on a latte which left a little bit of foam on his upper lip. Dean grinned at that and his nerves were quickly replaced with complete adoration.

Dean and Cas first met freshman year of college. It was during welcome week at a forced mixer for all freshmen in their dorm. Dean was sipping on the sickly-sweet punch that was in desperate need of some whiskey to level it out when he inconspicuously made his way to where the aux cord was located. Just because he was forced to be at this party didn't mean he was stuck listening to today’s top hits.

When he was within sight of the aux, he noticed that someone else beat him there. It was the most attractive man he had ever seen. With striking blue eyes that were in perfect contrast to his dark sex hair, he was like Dean’s biggest fantasy in the flesh. His eyes appreciatively roamed Cas’s body noticing the way his dark jeans clung to his thighs and the way his dark t-shirt stretched tight against his chest and arms.

Cas was furiously scrolling on the phone when suddenly the song changed. Space Oddity by David Bowie was now blasting through the speakers. He looked immediately pleased with himself and continued scrolling, adding more songs to the new queue of the playlist.

“You know, if you’re going to try and get away with changing the playlist, you should really pick a faster song to make it less obvious,” Dean mused.

Cas jumped, unaware that he was spotted changing the music. He quickly regained his composure and smiled crookedly. “Bowie is always the exception.” His voice was gravelly and deep and holy hell he really was the hottest guy Dean had ever met.

Dean smiled at that. “I would say I’d drink to that, but this punch is certainly missing its kick.”

“You know, I think I can help with that.” Cas reached into his back pocket with an eyebrow raised and pulled out a silver flask. Glancing over his shoulder, he poured a healthy amount in Dean’s cup.

Dean took a long drink from the now significantly improved punch and grinned. “My god, and a whiskey drinker, nonetheless. Where have you been all my life?”

“Iowa,” Cas deadpanned.

Dean laughed and took another long drink of the punch.

“Want to get out of here?” Cas asked. “Go somewhere quieter, I mean. This isn’t really my scene.”

Dean grinned and raced out of the party with Cas in tow.

That night Dean and Cas walked along the deserted campus, passing the flask back and forth. They took turns being mock appalled over the bands the other hasn’t listened to, or the movies that haven’t been seen. They made future plans to correct those oversights and Dean felt true happiness for the first time in much too long.

Dean never kissed Cas that night. In fact, Dean didn’t kiss Cas until years after that night. They became comfortable in their friendship and Dean didn’t want to risk what they had. Cas ended up transferring back to Iowa for his last year of college to be close to his family when his mom was sick. After she passed, he moved back to Lawrence and it was through the late-night comfort sessions where Dean’s hands lingered too long, and Cas gripped Dean too tight that their friendship suddenly became so much more.

Dean was determined to do it right, so he asked Cas out on an official date and they went to their favorite coffee shop where they previously spent hours studying together. But this time, Dean could stare at Cas without worrying about the implications. He could reach out and touch him without trying to make up some excuse for it. It was freeing and exhilarating all at once. And now, five years after that first date, Cas still has that same impact on Dean.

It was those moments that Dean and Cas reminisced over in the coffee shop. Except there was an underlying tone of sadness and uncertainty for the future. But Dean pushed that away and focused on those happy memories. He focused on Cas and found himself just as stupidly in love with him as that first day he met him.

Now Dean and Cas were back at their apartment, cuddled on the couch with coffee for Dean and hot chocolate for Cas. Dean was exhausted from their excursion. His fatigue was really setting in now. He had felt it earlier, beginning to weigh him down like a blanket. He refused to let the illness win today. Cas deserved a nice day. But now that he was laying on the couch with his head resting on Cas’s chest, he just didn’t have the strength to fight it anymore.

He was drifting into a blissful sleep when he felt Cas nudge him. Dean grumbled and chose to ignore whatever the reason Cas was trying to wake him and relaxed, feeling sleep win over once again. Once again it was interrupted. “Jesus, what is it Cas?”

“It’s raining,” He whispered, his mouth close to Dean’s ear.

“So?”

“So…it’s raining, Dean.” The emphasis he put on it seemed to wake Dean as he shot up, staring at Cas with a smile on his face.

“It’s raining! We can cross number three off the list!”

It wasn’t that rain was uncommon in Kansas. In fact, there is probably quite a few rainy days left before it turns into snow, but Dean wants to finish his list and he wants to experience the items while he can thoroughly enjoy them.

All signs of fatigue washed away from Dean and he was leaping off the couch, bringing Cas with him. They both threw on rain jackets and some boots before bounding down the stairs. He felt like a kid again.

It was a cold rain, not the warm rain showers they had grown accustomed to throughout the summer. But Dean preferred this kind; it was refreshing and the goosebumps that formed from it reminded him that he is alive. Dean lifted his face towards the sky, feeling the raindrops wash over him. He opened his mouth to catch a few stray drops, laughing to himself because he used to do the same as a kid. When was the last time he enjoyed the rain? When was the last time that he wasn’t rushing to get out of it or complaining about the inconvenience of it? The answer was too long. He needed to focus on slowing down and enjoying life. And that’s what his list was all about.

Cas grabbed Dean’s hand breaking his train of thought and dragged him through a large puddle in the street outside their apartment. Dean smiled at his boyfriend, with his dark hair that was curling at the ends from the moisture and his pink lips that were beginning to turn a light shade of blue from the cold. He truly was beautiful. Cas wrapped his arm around Dean’s waist and pulled him against his chest, grabbing his other hand.

“May I have this dance?” Cas questioned, his mouth close to Dean’s ear which caused him to shiver and created a wake of goosebumps of their own kind.

“Cas, you fucking sap,” Dean teased, but rested his head against his boyfriend’s shoulder nonetheless. They began to slowly pivot in the middle of the street, the cold rain falling against them, soaking through their jackets and into their boots but none of that mattered. Not when they had each other by their sides. Dean sighed contentedly. Maybe he should have added ‘dance in the rain’ to his list because this – this was absolutely perfect.

It wasn’t long before the cold rain began to seep into what felt like their bones, and they stopped dancing. They both were lost in their own thoughts, but when they looked at each other, green eyes meeting blue, their thoughts were quickly consumed of the other. Dean’s eyes glanced down to Cas’s lips and Cas rested his hand on the back of Dean’s neck, pulling him close.

The rain was cold, but their lips were warm, sending sparks of electricity through the other. Dean’s hands were on each side of Cas’s face as their mouths meshed together perfectly and leisurely. No wonder kissing in the rain was always romanticized in the movies. It was incredible. They kissed slowly and with meaning, pouring emotions into the kiss that neither could put into words. All thoughts of a bucket list, terminal illness, and the cold were quickly erased from Dean’s mind. Instead, all thoughts were of Cas. Dean deepened the kiss, running his tongue along Cas’s bottom lip. He pressed his body against him, suddenly wanting – no, needing more of Cas.

A bright flash of lightning struck, causing the two of them to jump apart, laughing at the other’s momentarily frightened expression.

“Come on,” Cas said, grabbing Dean’s hand once again. “Let’s go take a hot shower and we can continue where we left off.” Dean grinned and allowed Cas to lead him inside and upstairs to the warmth of their apartment.

It wasn’t long before they were shut in the bathroom, stripping each other of their wet clothes as the water heated up. What started as a frenzy turned into something much more languid. Cas peeled Dean’s soaked shirt off of him and left a trail of kisses in its place which blazed into Dean’s skin. Cas kissed along his neck, lightly sucking and nibbling on the spot just under Dean’s ear that always elicits the sexiest sounds. When he was pleased with the mark he made, Cas continued down to his shoulders. He pressed feather light kisses along his muscles, paying extra attention to his collar bones.

Cas’s fingertips lightly brushed Dean’s nipple, to which Dean whined in response. “Cas.”

“Patience,” He teased. Cas slipped his fingertips under the waistband of Dean’s boxers all while peppering kisses and licking along his broad chest. He ran his fingers along the soft skin and listened to Dean’s labored breathing. “Shower. Now.” Cas ordered, pushing his hands down and completely stripping Dean of his clothes.

They both stepped in the shower, letting the hot water wash over their chilled bodies. Dean raised his face towards the water, mimicking his earlier action in the rain. The hot water trickled down his body, washing away the chill. Meanwhile, Cas grabbed a rag and soaped it up. He rubbed it in small circles along Dean’s back, massaging where he carried the most of his tension. “Cas,” Dean moaned. “Fuck, that feels so good.”

Cas hummed in response and leaned against Dean’s back, pressing his erection against him. His hands moved to his front, gently moving along Dean’s chest and stomach, leaving soapy suds in its place. Dean let out a low moan in response to the gentle caresses and the feeling of Cas against his ass. Cas’s hand moved lower, gripping Dean’s cock. He gently moved his hand along Dean’s hard length, jerking him off at a slow enough pace to drive Dean crazy. Dean whined in response; he could already feel the heat gathering in his stomach. “Cas, please.”

“Tell me what you want, Dean.”

“You,” He choked out. “Please. I want to feel you.”

Cas moaned and removed his hand from Dean. Dean nearly whimpered in response to the loss but then he heard the click of the lube bottle opening. Cas spread Dean’s legs and slicked up his fingers. He slowly pushed the first one past the tight ring of muscles. Dean groaned at the sensation and wiggled his hips against Cas, urging him to move. Cas gripped Dean’s hips with his free hand, stilling his movements as he inserted a second finger.

Cas paused, giving Dean a moment to adjust before he began scissoring his fingers, readying Dean for him. “Ah fuck,” Dean hissed as Cas brushed his fingertip against his prostate. “C’mon, Cas, I need more.”

Cas chuckled at his boyfriend’s impatience and added a third finger. He slowly slid them in and out, feeling the warm heat of Dean. When Dean was ready, he removed his fingers and squirted more lube into his hand. He ran his hand along his leaking cock. Dean looked over his shoulder and nearly came at the sight of Cas touching himself. His head was thrown back, eyebrows furrowed, and lips parted open.

“Dean,” Cas sighed as he removed his hand. He smirked at his boyfriend’s lust ridden expression. His pupils were dilated, leaving just a small ring of color around them.

Cas pressed the tip of his cock against Dean’s hole, lightly teasing him. “Fuck, Cas. Just fucking take me already,” He growled. With that, Cas slowly pushed in, letting the tight ring of his muscles surround him.

“You’re so fucking tight, Dean.” He growled.

Dean wiggled his hips in response, letting Cas know it was okay to move now that he was adjusted to the feeling of Cas inside him. He began pumping in and out at a slow pace, letting the tension slowly build. He adjusted his angle and brushed against Dean’s prostate on nearly every thrust.

“Cas, I need more,” He whimpered. Cas picked up the pace and began to kiss the crook of his neck. His breath was hot but still left goosebumps in its wake.

Cas whispered into Dean’s ear, “Touch yourself.” Dean immediately obliged, pumping his cock in time with Cas’s thrusts. It didn’t take long until that heat was ready to bubble over. He knew Cas wasn’t far behind based off the whimpers and curses falling from his lips. Cas picked up the pace, slamming into Dean’s prostate and Dean’s vision nearly went black from the pleasure. “Cas!” He screamed as he spilled over onto his hand and the shower wall.

As Dean expected, Cas was not far behind. It was a few more thrusts before he was following Dean off the edge with the cry of his name. The two of them caught their breath and quickly cleaned themselves up. Dean shut the water off and wrapped Cas up in a towel. He pulled him in and gently kissed him, soaking in the smell of his coconut conditioner.

“I love you so much, Cas.”

Cas grinned and replied, “And I love you more, Dean.”

Dean took in Cas’s look of pure adoration which made him feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. “Let’s go to bed, angel.” He said with another quick kiss.

Within minutes they were tangled up together in bed, sound asleep.

Part 3

#destiel fanfiction #destiel #deancas #smut #destiel smut #destiel fluff #dean and cas #established relationship

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twiceblackvelvet · 5 years ago

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Soulmates?

requested!

Early rises and strolls to work for the opening shift are far more pleasant than imaginable. The sun rising slowly over the horizon whilst the pathways are clear of other people and hardly any cars noisily taking up road space. It’s calming, beautiful, in fact, to see the change in hues in the sky from a deep orange to a lighter yellow once it’s high enough above everything else. A camera roll full of pictures taken with the beams blazing down could never possibly do it justice, but it does help take off some of the chills during the winter months just looking at them.

It’s quite an easy job, truth be told, the only complication that ever presents itself is through difficult customers and they are few and far between thankfully. Doing the rounds to turn on all of the appliances and the fridge lights is a welcomed routine compared to the never-ending cleaning that comes with a closing shift. It should be a world record how long it takes to hoover the floors, mop them, and then try not to mess up all of that hard work by creating a shoe path through the wet flooring.

For the last six months, Mina has been working at the convenience store, and taking on every single shift her schedule will allow whilst still trying to continue her studies. Serving customers isn’t the be-all and end-all but she is grateful to have been offered the position with no experience in hospitality whatsoever. The owners had recently had to let go of one of their original employees after he was caught taking money from the register thus she was hired before even sitting the interview out of desperation to replace him.

Whilst there are a few customers who are tough to deal with, there are also the locals who are always full of small snippets about their lives, or, will simply offer a courteous smile if their own day is not going as planned. Her favorite, however, is watching all the young and in love couples enter the store together, there’s something about watching their small yet romantic gestures toward one another, and whilst the green-eyed monster known as jealousy would rear its head for anyone else, Mina merely longs to feel what they are one day with her true love.

A soulmate is a difficult thing to explain to anyone which is why it is taught and told from such a young age. The idea that there is one single individual wandering this Earth who is meant to be just as in love with you as you are them, and no one else seems unreasonable or forceful at best. Every relationship in life is significant and can work if each of you put in the work to make sure that it lasts. Just look at how often people will get attached to celebrity relationships, only for them to break up a few years down the line and people are convinced love isn’t real. In fact, there are many people during her life who have told her it was a crazy idea to hold out for ‘the one’.

However, Mina has always been a hopeless romantic and never been able to grasp the concept of dating multiple people when there is a very clear sign on her right hand linking her to the one she’s meant to be with. The one who will offer her a tingling feeling in the pit of her stomach whenever they exchange so much as a glance. The one who she’ll meet for the first time and something inside of her will click, telling her that they are the one for her. The one who will offer her endless reassurance whenever things in life get difficult. She’s always wanted it all, and more. But, they’ve yet to enter her life and whisk her off her feet.

Her mother would often share tales about meeting her father when they were younger, both of them too scared to reveal their markings, both of which being on their legs in the shape of a tiny rocket, to confirm what they had believed to be true, that they are soulmates. But, one day her father invited her mother to a break from an intense study session by going into his pool. They had both completely forgotten about having not shown their markings but as it turned out, they were the exact same. It was always Mina’s favorite bedtime story to hear about how her parents fell in love with each other, their own firm belief in soulmates only furthering her desire to find her own.

There were plenty of people during her early years that Mina thought were going to be the one, and rather than following entirely in her parents’ footsteps, she’d find any excuse to look at people’s right hand, such as holding their hand as she grabbed a skipping rope from them, or even going as far as gifting the girl next door an orange every single day on the bus to school until one day she took it with her right one. All of which failed miserably but she never gave up hope that one day it would simply happen without her having to think too much about it.

A small four-leaf clover resting directly in the palm of her right hand. It’s beautiful, and Mina often finds herself tracing it back and forth whenever she’s bored. Her father had explained to her that it must mean her life with her soulmate will be full of luck, but finding them alone will require a lot of luck, Mina isn’t so sure she’ll be gifted any more beyond that.

Today is no different from every other morning shift, no one bothers to enter for at least the first hour which means restocks and ordering anything that appears to be running low. The higher shelves she has to grab the old wooden ladders from the storeroom in the back, which, she’s convinced are going to one day give way and break causing her to crash through the display behind her. However, the manager, Mr. Kim, no matter how many times she asks him to get some new ladders simply states that he’s going to soon. When soon is exactly, Mina has no idea but she doubts it will be soon.

“Is anyone working?” A high-pitched voice calls out close to the counter. From her spot on the bottom rung of the ladders, Mina can only just say make out some brown hair.

The bell for the door to signal a customer had entered has clearly not done its job as Mina quickly rushes around to see who it is that’s waiting for her. Fortunately, it isn’t one of the angry customers who no doubt would have put in a complaint about her for not being at the counter, but instead, it’s Sana who works in the coffee shop just up the street and often calls in for a morning visit when they’re both on earlies. Mina thinks Sana has a sixth sense about this because they’ve never formally exchanged schedules with one another nor do they know each other beyond each other’s respective workplaces.

Sana’s own soul mark is directly under her left eye, a small golden star with sparks flying off of it. Mina adores it and finds that it makes Sana’s already beautiful eyes even more charming to look at.

“Ah, there you are Mina. Here, I brought you your usual. If the morning is kicking my ass, I know it is for you too.” Sana says as she hands over Mina’s usual order of an americano. Her eyes look tired and Mina can tell she isn’t fully present as of yet. “What were you doing? Do you know the bell is broken?”

“Restocks,” She quickly takes a sip of the piping hot drink, Sana subconsciously doing the same but regretting it when it burns her tongue a little. “Thank you for this. It was warm out on my walk-in but those clouds look threatening.” The pair of them look out the window to see the sky now lacking the sun-flamed sky that Mina adores and replaced by dark, overcast clouds. “No, I didn’t know the bell was broken until now, it seems everything is falling apart in here.”

“Did you get your new ladders yet?”

“Nope.” Mina pauses to look back toward where they’re just standing in the middle of an aisle and gives herself a mental reminder to move them once Sana leaves. “I’m thinking about just fetching my own in from home, we’re never going to get them and now, the bell probably won’t be fixed for the foreseeable.”

Sana’s eyes follow Mina’s toward the aisles and then drift up toward the bell above the door. She places her cup down onto the counter and taps Mina’s hand to get her attention back on herself.

“Don’t bring your own. I might know someone who can bring you some and fix the doorbell, you’ll still be here at 1 PM, right?”

“Yeah, I finish at 3, but you know he’ll never agree to pay for any repairs Sana, and especially not ones he hasn’t personally authorized”

“Don’t worry about it Mina, she owes me a favor anyway. Just take it as yet another act of kindness from your favorite and prettiest barista.” Sana chortles, fluttering her eyelashes.

“Oh, Jeongyeon is going to get some new ladders for me? I didn’t realize that’s what you meant.” Mina jokes knowing just how to make Sana a little jealous.

“Very funny, you know I meant myself, not her… Though now you’ve said it, you’re right, it could have meant her.” There’s a quick flash of Sana’s eyes unfocusing and drifting off likely to thoughts of her co-worker who she’s been dating for around a year. They aren’t soulmates but Jeongyeon isn’t a believer and Sana thinks she has too much love to give for one person. However, Mina has often caught Jeongyeon tenderly stroking Sana’s soul mark whenever they believe no one is around.

“Who is it?” Mina queries upon realizing Sana never said who it was that would be her savior.

“Hm? Oh… right. Don’t worry about it, just a friend of mine who can repair it for you.” Sana quickly looks up toward the clock on the back wall and picks her cup up from the counter before shifting toward the door, bell once again not working when she opens it. “Okay, I gotta go but 1 PM, be here not hiding in an aisle, or next time I might just snitch to Mr. Kim. Bye!” She shouts heading out before Mna can say goodbye in return.

It’s a fairly easy day, the weather does indeed end up turning sour as a downpour quickly starts not long after Sana had left and doesn’t ease up even for a second. There are only a handful of customers who enter and the majority of them are simply trying to escape the rain, which Mina is supposed to ask whether they’re going to purchase anything or not but she doesn’t have the heart to force them out into the cold, thus there was at one point just a collective of people stood by the door hoping for a dry spell that never arrives. They do all fortunately shuffle off one by one, all of which running to their cars or the next building for shelter.

By the time 1 PM rolls around, Mina had completely forgotten about her conversation with Sana. The ongoing entertainment of watching people force their jackets up over their heads whilst trying not to walk into streetlights had provided enough of a distraction for her. So, when someone with their coat up over their head holding a pair of ladders enters the shop, Mina simply believes they’re a customer.

The coat comes down to rest around her shoulders and reveals a face that is small yet striking. Eyes dark and wide, nose bright red from the cold, and the rest of her skin an olive color. She’s tall, quite tall in fact as she stands above the very ladders she’s holding around her left arm. A toolkit rests in her right hand, it’s small but looks heavy, however, if it is, the girl doesn’t let on as she carries it easily. Her frame hidden by the huge coat slumped around her but Mina finds her breathtaking and can’t quite remove her eyes from her face.

“Um… hello?” The girl waves a hand in front of Mina’s face dragging her out of the hypnosis she’s sure this girl had just put her under. “Are you Mina?” Yet again, Mina drifts off elsewhere upon hearing her name exit this girl’s mouth so softly.

“Y-Yes... I am… Mina. Yes. Sorry. I’m Mina.” She stutters, quickly trying to make even a slight bit of sense.

“Yeah, I got it the first time. Sana told me you need some ladders and your doorbell is broke?” The girl poses as a question but quickly gets to work looking at the doorbell which isn’t far away from her head but Mina would struggle to get anywhere close to reaching it. “Those are yours, by the way.” She points toward the ladders. They’re brand new, metal. Far sturdier than the wooden ones.

“Thank you, um…” Mina hesitates, realizing she hadn’t asked for the girl’s name as of yet, nor did Sana tell her who she was.

“Tzuyu.” She states flatly, never bothering to look back toward Mina whose eyes are piercing through the back of Tzuyu’s head never moving.

It doesn’t take her long to fix the doorbell. The batteries inside had managed to corrode and damaged some of the inner-wirings but luckily, Tzuyu had some spare on hand in her toolbox and got it back to signaling the door opening and closing in no time. Mina has no idea what Tzuyu has just technically done as she’s never been the most gifted when it comes to repairs, however, watching her weave the wiring together and connect all of the pieces back together certainly looked impressive.

There’s an awkward silence for a second as Tzuyu steps away from the door to finally look at Mina once again, neither of them knowing how to finish off this unpaid transaction of services.

“Um… Thank you,” Mina starts, but is unsure how to continue, just knows that she wants to continue talking. “So, Sana said you’re doing this as a favor to her?” Mina tries to ask, Tzuyu, however, moves to retrieve her toolkit from the ground.

“Yes. She’s a good friend.” Tzuyu says coldly, turning toward the door to leave but then swiftly back to the counter. “It was… It was nice to meet you, Mina.” Her voice more upbeat this time, yet forced as she outstretches her right hand in front of Mina.

Without hesitating, Mina grasps her hand in her own in a handshake. However, her skin immediately feels an electric shock the second their palms connect with one another, and Mina is stunned into just standing there frozen. Tzuyu is the first to pull her hand away which startles Mina back to reality realizing she wasn’t alone in feeling it. But, before she’s given the opportunity to talk to the girl in front of her the small four-leaf clover resting in the center of Tzuyu’s palm quietens any words that were close to escaping leaving them stuck in her throat.

Tzuyu catches sight of Mina’s same soul mark and immediately rushes out of the door and away from her without a word.

A big part of Mina is telling her not to be stupid, telling her not to risk her job by chasing after her and potentially being seen as a weird stalker. However, the other side that desperately wants to figure out if this moment is the one she’s been searching for, the one she’s been seeking since the very first time she was even told about soulmates. With the consequences for her actions at the very back of her head, she dashes out of the door following Tzuyu and runs to catch up with her, stopping outside of the coffee shop where Sana works as she grabs onto Tzuyu’s arm to stop her, the same shock feeling coursing across her skin as she does so.

“You have it too and you feel it. Tell me… that you feel that.” Mina huffs out, breath struggling to catch up to her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tzuyu blurts out hurriedly upon noticing some eyes starting to watch on, her own eyes refusing to look at Mina. “Let me go.”

“No, I know you feel it. I saw you pull away just before… and you have the same mark like me. You know what this means, right?”

The silence between them returns as both Sana and Jeongyeon exit the coffee shop together to watch the interaction between the two girls unfold, a few people stop in the middle of the street to eavesdrop in, one of them even pulling out their phone to record it. Jeongyeon moves to ask them to put their phone away and they reluctantly comply.

“Is everything okay, Mina?” Sana asks.

“Yes, Sana, everything is fine.” Tzuyu answers for her. “Go back inside.”

The two girls shuffle back into the coffee shop, however, they remain by the door just in case whatever is happening between Mina and Tzuyu goes further downhill than it clearly already is even if neither of them will say why.

“Please, just say something… I know you have it too.”

“Look, Mina… I don’t know what kind of fantasy world you’ve created for yourself inside your head that you so clearly live in… but just because you have the same tiny little mark as someone doesn’t mean anything. Yes, everyday people rely on such a silly little thing to determine their entire lives, and good for them if that’s what they want. But it isn’t for me. You’re not for me.” Tzuyu’s voice cold and without any emotion whatsoever, and yet Mina can feel every single emotion inside herself all at once fighting for dominance over which one will retort back to her.

“But…” Mina barely whispers, unable to form a full sentence.

“But nothing, we just met.. You can’t really believe that we’re now supposed to spend the rest of our lives together because of that one single moment.” Tzuyu pauses, waiting to see if Mina will answer before continuing when she doesn’t. “Plus… I already… I already have a girlfriend.”

For the first time in her life, doubt about who she is supposed to spend her life with has managed to creep up and break down all of the previous standards for love Mina had put. Her hand uncurls itself from around Tzuyu’s arm and she sinks down to the floor because she’s right. All this time, Mina thought that having a soulmate or one set person who you’re supposed to always be with was how life is supposed to be, giving it far too much control and power over her to the point where she has likely pushed away plenty of others who would have no doubt made her happy, made her fall in love, and made her look forward to her future.

Instead, she’s given all of the power and control to someone she hadn’t even met yet. Now that she has, she realizes her mistake because Tzuyu could never be the one for her, even if the mark is there. They are not compatible whatsoever, not at this moment. Perhaps, during different times in their lives, they could be perfect for one another, and perhaps they could live out all of the things Mina has dreamed about. But Tzuyu is taken, and Mina is too much of a fantasist.

Mina can feel Sana and Jeongyeon slowly raise her up off the ground, however, her entire focus is on Tzuyu’s retreating figure walking away from her down the street. She can hear them talking to her and asking what has happened but her throat is unable to produce sound. Everything feels so cold and as if she’s surrounded by emptiness.

Perhaps, there is no such thing as soulmates after all. Perhaps, there never will be.

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