#{ helps regain some Brain Juice....I mean }

[nabtime]

Our Empty Graves II

Fandom: Danny Phantom / Batman: Under the Red Hood

Pairings: Danny Fenton/Jason Todd (Dead on Main)

Rating: Mature

Tags: batfamily, hazmat AU, Nobody Knows AU, Mute!Phantom, potential ghost king danny, slow burn?, DC means Disregard Canon, AU means AU nothing is exactly the same, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, more than canon typical violence, danny is a Halfa and also a Fetch, no beta we die like basically everyone

Summary: They say that Red Hood has a loyal mutt. The man rules his territory in Crime Alley with an iron fist and a guard dog at his side. They say that Hood calls him Fetch, sometimes Fetcher. No one's ever heard him speak. Anyone who's ever seen him says he looks like an experiment gone wrong, that Hood picked him up somewhere unspeakable. They say he'll do anything Red Hood asks of him and he'll do it well. That he's strong and fast and probably inhuman. The girls say he's sweet; quiet but charming in his own way. Rival gangs say he's vicious; that he'd sooner rip your throat out than let you go.

Jason just wants to help him.

Chapter 2: everything is blurry now (i don’t know where to go)

Chapter Summary: Danny has a very scary introduction to the Bat and a not so scary (somehow) introduction to Red Hood.

Chapter Notes: title from Trouble by Adam Jensen Links: AO3 // Chapter 1 // Chapter 3

Danny laid there, staying just long enough for his legs to heal and start walking again, before he heaved himself up from the gravestone. He mentally apologized to the soul of the guy whose grave he was disturbing before perching on top of the stone to rest again.

He could tell from the sky and the smell of the place alone that he wasn’t in Amity anymore. Wasn’t in the Ghost Zone anymore. Thankfully the place had enough ambient ectoplasm for him to absorb, else he’d have been stuck there to wallow in some random dude’s plot. Graveyards and Cemeteries tended to have a lot of ectoplasm hanging around, being a resting place for the dead, and were the most easily accessed to go to. But he could tell that this particular cemetery had more ectoplasm than it knew what to do with. The city he could see looming beyond its gates was also bursting with it, almost as much as Amity. And that place had a direct hole to the Realms forcibly torn into it.

Where the hell was he?

He had to weigh his options. Did he stay here? A stranger to the Shades that wandered these grounds? Potentially open to attack from any ghost that thought him an intruder? Or did he risk wandering the city to find out where he’d landed? If he stayed he could regain ectoplasm faster. If he left he could figure out what happened and prepare himself for the worst. Who knew how far from Illinois he’d landed. His mom could track him if he was still close enough.

The shakiness of his legs when he tried to put weight on them made the decision for him. He’d rest just a little bit longer.

He gathered his thoughts, fleeting as they were, and shook out the terror of being faced with his mom’s hatred. He needed to put the moment out of mind. Pack it in to a little tiny box in the very, very back reaches of his mind. He got away. She wouldn’t find him. He got away and, yeah, he was bleeding and hurt and so, so tired, but he was fine. Would be fine. Cemeteries were for souls to rest, and that’s what he would do. Even as he got dizzier and loopier with each ounce of blood that left his body.

He looked down and noticed the growing pool of ectoplasmic green-red blood leaking from his wounds and down into the loose dirt of the grave. Ah man, he really hoped that wouldn’t become a problem. He was in no mood to be fighting off zombie dudes resurrected from his own half-life juice. Was that even a thing that could happen? Knowing his luck it was. With how things had gone for him in the past- all of his life, the guy would wake up and immediately try to kill him and eat his brains. And be stronger than him. Like, it wouldn’t be the body of some STEM nerd that never threw a punch ever, but some jacked up professional boxer or something. Who also hated ghosts. And was immune to ecto-blasts, somehow. That’s the kind of guy he’d accidentally bring back to life, probably.

Jason P. Todd. The name seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place from where. Some celebrity? Maybe? Headstone didn’t seem all that fancy though, just neat and simple and plain. Maybe he had the same name as one? He thinks he’s heard Sam say it once or something- and he couldn’t think about that. About Sam. About how long it’d been since he’d talked to her or Tucker or even seen them. How long it’d been since he’d talked to anyone.

He wondered who this guy was. Who he used to be. The dates seemed pretty close. Pretty young. Fifteen. He was only a year older than when Danny had died. But he came back, however wrong, and this guy didn’t. This kid didn’t. He wondered, if given the choice, whether the kid would choose to come back or not. Did he have regrets? Unfinished business? Probably not considering there was absolutely no indication of a Shade around the grave. If he had regrets he would have lingered.

Well, at least that made the ectoplasm leaking into his grave less likely to resurrect him. Probably.

“Who are you?”

A gravely, deep voice spooked him into clumsily falling off the headstone in his bid to turn around towards it. And holy shit Batman, that was fucking Batman.

Gotham. Of course he’d landed in Gotham. Gotham would be the only damn place with this much ectoplasm just hanging around. And of course Batman had to just immediately find him trespassing. Honestly he would have preferred to take on the linebacker zombie.

“What are you doing on that grave?” he demanded. And there was just the smallest hint of anger, of anguish there that it made him want to bolt.

Because oh, Ancients, of course this guy had to be important. Or important to the Batman at least.

He raised his hands up in the universal sign for peace. At least he hoped it was universal because he sure as hell couldn’t just tell Batman ‘I come in peace’. No. He had to have damaged his throat so severely when he half died screaming that his ghost form either couldn’t speak at all or would destroy half the city if he tried.

He scrambled back, frantically trying to move away from the grave and Batman in the same move.

“I asked you a question,” he growled.

And fuck if the Bat didn’t sound pissed. Like Danny had offended him in the worst possible manner on purpose. What would even offend a man-bat-guy that badly? Shaking him awake from an upside down nap? Eating all the good fruit and or moths before he could have any? But, no, yeah, trespassing on the burial ground of someone that was maybe significant to him could do it. Ancients, why him.

Danny stopped for a moment to use his hands, abandoning his weird little crab walk scramble in order to try and placate the angriest furry he’d ever met. He shook his head and hovered his hands over his throat before making an x in the air. Maybe if he shook his head enough the Bat would get it.

“Why are you here?” he pressed, still heated, while moving forward with an ominous swish of his shadowy black cape. The Bat did not get it.

Okay. Okay. Plan B. He hadn’t even had a Plan A, but hell, he never worked well with plans in the first place so why should this be any different. He didn’t have enough energy to fly, but if he concentrated on using all his ectoplasm to turn invisible instead of healing… Well, he might bleed out before escaping but at least he might have a chance. Batsy sure wasn’t going to give him one.

And then he just- stopped being visible.

He still didn’t have enough juice to go intangible, unfortunately, but he’d have to just make do. At least his legs were sort of working, even if his right arm was still limp and broken and totally going to leave a trail of bright green glow-stick blood as he moved. Fucking fantastic.

He broke into a shambling run.

He heard the thick stomp of heavy boots take off behind him in pursuit. Slow, like he knew Danny couldn’t go far. Like he’s persistence hunting. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He keened, a high pitch sound that came from his core, involuntarily. Too panicked to really stop it. He made for the gates in a mad, jerking dash. The boots were getting closer and he heard the thin thwip of air that meant his unsteady gait just let him dodge a projectile. A Bat-a-rang, he thought hysterically. Batman just threw a Bat-a-rang at me. He’d always found it funny that Batman had the same naming sense as his dad of all people.

He made it to the gates, chest heaving in air he technically didn’t need. He keened again when the gates were too heavy for him to budge. They weren’t even locked! He shoved again, his strength faltering as he lost more and more blood. Batman was getting closer. This time he didn’t miss. Danny lurched against the cold metal when a sharp blade found its mark in his shoulder. The force of his stagger broke open the ornate gates and he fell over into the dirty sidewalk of the city streets.

If he could just dodge into an alley. Just gather enough ectoplasm to go intangible, even if just for a second. He might have a chance at losing the Bat long enough to heal more. All he needed was a moment.

He ran. He collapsed. He crawled.

The keening coming from his core was becoming a high-pitched background noise. Constant and shrill. It just kept going, reaching out and calling for help that wouldn’t come. No one could hear him. Anyone that could wouldn’t understand. If any of the ghosts he fought could hear his cries, they didn’t react. No one was responding. Any why would they? He was just a worthless little Fetch. One foot in the grave and the other with the living. Stranger to both sides and no place to belong in the middle. He was an abomination that should have never existed in the first place. Schrodinger's creepy, creepy little boy.

He made it an entire block, dirt and grime rubbing viciously into his open wounds- the fabric of the hazmat suit not having enough ectoplasm to stitch back together- before a heavy boot landed on his back and pushed him into the ground. He released his invisibility with a chocked whine.

“Answers,” Batman said simply, voice low but betraying no emotion. The boot pressed him down further, ribs creaking from the pressure. “Now.”

He’s running out of steam and fast. He wasn’t healing anymore, just getting worse. He had no idea what Batman might do to him if he let himself get captured. Beat the shit out of him even more? He seemed pretty angry. Leave him to die again in some back alley? But Batman’s known as the world’s greatest detective, he wouldn’t just let Danny go. No. He’d want to investigate. Want to dig as deep as he could into this new intruder to his city. He’d find out about the missing Amity Park and come to the truthful conclusion that it was Phantom’s fault. He’d find the Anti-Ecto Acts. Would he turn him over to the GIW or would he want to- look further into ecto-biology himself? From a direct specimen. Would Danny find himself on that cold, sterile metal table again?

He needed to get out of there.

He gathered his ectoplasm again, whatever he had left of it. Most of it was strewn across the streets and cemetery (and he can’t think about the trail that leaves, can’t think about how he could be found by the GIW, by his parents, by something worse). He felt the boot dig further into his back and then he rolled, going intangible under the Bat’s foot and landing in the gutter.

His ability flickered, bringing him back to solidity just long enough to get a swift kick in the ribs. He sputtered and coughed in a rasping hack that shook his entire body. He reached and reached and used as much energy as he could to go intangible just one more time, just long enough. He planned to sink further into the ground and hopefully hit a sewer system he can hide in when an ear-piercing bang rung out in the night and his powers flickered once again. If he’s not careful his core would retreat into itself to conserve energy, which would leave him human and impossibly vulnerable. He doesn’t want to ever know what the consequences of staying in Phantom form for the past few years would be for his human side. Would he just immediately die again? Fully this time?

Batman growled. “Red Hood,” he said, sounding like he was grinding his teeth. A new rogue Danny didn’t know about? Admittedly he’d stopped following the goings on in Gotham a long time ago.

“Get out,” a mechanized voice echoed into the empty street. “Or get shot.”

He could hear footsteps approaching, heavier and more about showing force than melting into shadow. The creak of leather accompanied it but Danny didn’t look to investigate. He was going to make himself small and think invisible thoughts. Maybe if he was quiet enough Batman would forget he was there.

Danny could hear the distinct sound of another Bat-a-rang sailing through the air before a second loud bang cut it off. He assumed Red Hood shot it from the sky. Because why the fuck not at this point. Yeah sure, just a new rogue popping up that can shoot accurately enough to take down a tiny Bat powered projectile, while Danny was trying his hardest not to die at the hands of the Bat himself by melting into the asphalt. Nothing new. Just a regular old Tuesday. If it even was Tuesday. He didn’t know anymore.

Batman, seeming more interested in beating up Red Hood rather than Danny, stalked toward the direction of the voice and- man, he really needed to move so he could see what was happening before whatever fight got him in the crossfire. Narrowly avoid Death By Bat just to get taken out by a flying chunk of concrete. Or bullet or whatever.

But he really didn’t want to move. He needed as much energy and ectoplasm as he could conserve and moving meant leaking more glow-stick juice. So no-go. If the concrete took him out it took him out.

All he could hear was shuffling and gun shots and other projectiles and growly Bat sounds. After a few moments of just listening he felt like he had enough energy to move. Best to get out of the line of fire. All he needed to do was crawl. And then he inched out of the gutter, making his way towards a nearby dumpster he could take cover behind.

And then another Bat-a-rang sunk into his thigh and his core screamed.

And then, so quickly he could barely comprehend what was happening, he was being picked up and thrown over a burly shoulder. All he could see was a blood-stained leather jacket and a nice ass. Okay. Okay, so Batman’s hot rogue picked him up and was running with him just lugged over his shoulder like a sack of flour. Well. Could be worse. Poor guy though, ectoplasm was a bitch of a stain to get out and Danny was losing blood all over the place.

He wasn’t really paying attention to what happened after that but he assumed they got away because in the next moment he was being tossed onto a ragged couch in some run down apartment and Batman was no where to be seen.

Red Hood, however, was now in full view.

And man, what a view. A body to do that ass justice. Maybe it was just the exhaustion and blood loss speaking but hot damn. Built like a shit-brickhouse, thicker than a bowl of oatmeal and just as tall. And the leather. Yeah sure the mask was a little creepy and the guy was covered in blood, but when was creepy ever gonna stop Danny from appreciating a fine physique. And he was just standing there like a finely-crafted statue, watching Danny blearily check him out.

Yeah, the blood loss was definitely getting to him.

“Alright,” Red Hood spoke, looming over him in all his glorious bulk, and pulled a gun from the strap on his sweet-jesusly thick thighs and pointed it at Danny’s head.

Ah, fun time was over then. No more lusting or coping with humor in order to distract himself from the reality of his situation. He was slowly dying- fully this time- on some dangerous dude’s gross couch. A mortal gun might not do much because of his ghostliness but it could still deal some damage when he didn’t have the energy to move or go intangible. This was a Gotham villain. The GIW would look tame in comparison to what a villain from Gotham could do.

“Just who the fuck are you?”

Maybe Red Hood was better at charades?

#naps fics #dp x dc #Our Empty Graves #dpxdc

[dandylovesturtles]

14, 19, 41, 65

14. how do you write emotional scenes? Do you ever feel what the characters feel? Do you draw from personal experiences?

I mean, I draw from the general sort of experience of being a person who has emotions (especially because I cry really easily lmao), but I think usually my focus is more on what I want a given character to feel for the story and how to best convey that to the audience. So idk if this is really a helpful answer but it's all vibes? I'm just going off vibes man idk lol

I usually don't really feel what they feel as I'm writing it... Usually I've turned it over in my brain too much by then and all the emotional juice has been sucked out of it. When I reread later though it might hit me harder.

19. What is the most-used tag on your ao3?

Pre-canon with 31 uses

WOW HOW INTERESTING LOL

the next one is Established Relationship with 25 uses and then Hurt/Comfort with 12 uses

41. Do you tend to reread fics or are you a one-and-done kind of person?

Oh I reread fanfics all the time. I'm a repeat customer in everything lol. I watch movies over and over and I rewatch tv shows and I replay video games and I definitely reread fanfics.

65. Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

Well I'm really excited to get to the big climax for IMBI! I hope you all like it, even if... there's something everyone seems to want me to do that I'm probably not going to do lol. I hope everyone has fun with it anyway though!

And for future projects, I have some new chapter fics I want to write and some BTHB I'm excited to get to. I put the poll up so I'm going to work on Lost Voice From Screaming first, and I'm excited about my idea for that, but I'm reeaaally excited to write my idea for Shattered Confidence because characters losing confidence in their looks and then regaining it through h/c is a guilty pleasure trope of mine >.>

#writer ask game

[painterofthe-sun]

   { Actually... Imma drop in on my main acct for a little bit. I’ve been itching to get back into FFXIV and while I haven’t found the drive to do it yet, I do have a FFXIV sideblog I want to work on a little bit more!

   { If any other FFXIV fans/roleplayers are interested, the blog is @shinigxmicrew-ffxiv! It is a roleplaying blog! I just haven’t gotten around to...figuring out how to do that, while still being overhyped about playing an MMO for the first time... LOL. (But I do know most spoilers bc I really love this game and cannot help my curiosity. Pls don’t be mad at me...!!)

   { I’d love to work on my OCs with you guys. 💕 I promise I’ll be back to Ammy soon! Her muse hasn’t gone away yet. I think I just need a moment to indulge a hyperfixation....maybe drag Ammy into the game itself...and then I can get back to replies.

   { ((On that note, I know I owe Godot a response, I wanna get back to Chiasa as well... Am I missing anyone else? I feel like I am, but I’m unsure. Pls send me IMs if we have a thread you want to keep going with!!!)) }

#Mun speaks #OOIP #{ mrrrr I feel....guilty } #{ but also if taking a minor break to indulge a special interest } #{ helps regain some Brain Juice....I mean } #{ it'd be worthwhile time spent } #{ ALSO I don't have a tag YET for all the story screenshots I post } #{ the ones on my FFXIV blog....that is } #{ but I plan to make one very soon } #{ that way other RPers and such don't have to see them } #{ spam the dash when I start mass posting them } #{ LOL } #{ ....I'm very excited abt my first journey into MMOs can you tell }

[whosjunglejim4322]

Warnings: SMUT, insecurities but mark just needs a lil reassurance abt how good he makes you feel, finger fucking/sucking, he cums in his pants, fluff bc yall r in love love <3

Mark knows he's being irrational about this whole ordeal. One conversation shouldn't be getting under his skin like it is, but this one thing seems to be knocking at the forefront of his brain, throwing him out of focus as of late.

So what, you masturbate. It's normal, he's not there all the time, of course you do. He does too, but he also becomes outrageously horny everytime he so much as thinks about your skin or the way you kiss him. And it's safe to say he thinks about you alot. Alot alot.

"It's different, though? I'm a guy, we jerk off an outrageous amount," he argues, furrowing his eyebrows as you stare up at his pacing form from the bed, grinning. He's cute when he's flustered.

"And girls just...aren't supposed to get horny without the help of a guy?" You inquire.

He stops pacing at this, slumping his shoulders. "that's not what I mean, I just-" he sighs, plopping himself next to you on the edge of the bed. He chews on the inside of his lip for a moment before shaking his head.

"Nevermind, I'm just tired." He runs his fingers through his disheveled hair, looking at you apologetically with his big doe eyes.

You're still amused, giggling as you reach over to cup his rosy hued cheeks, pulling him to your mouth for a kiss.

"A little toy could never replace you, my love."

You'd reassured him that night by wrapping your lips around his dick, and he was too lost in the belly aching anticipation and bliss of it all, to really pay attention to what it was you'd just said.

A little toy.

He hasn't stopped thinking about it. It's both slightly irritating, while also being the new source of his sexual frustration when he's supposed to be practicing. He thinks it may be more irritating than the ladder though, because as much as he hates to admit it, he is a jealous creature. 

It's silly, childish and he knows it. Maybe that's why he's so unsettled by this, because he knows that you love him. He knows you like his dick, from what you've expressed. But, maybe he's doing something wrong?

Maybe you just don't want to to wound his ego, and instead act like his dick is enough to satisfy you. Of course, he knows some sensations are better than others, but how often do you need to touch yourself? Does he not please you enough in the moments you two are together?

These questions still nag him when he walks into your apartment at around 7:35 pm, causing worry to crease between his brows.

You, of course, pick up on this when you round the corner from your bedroom to see him making his way towards you, lost in thought. Your arms snake around his middle and your lips place a kiss to his jaw. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

"What's got you all mopey?" You ask, searching for any signs of pain or discomfort in his eyes, only to be stumped by his undreadable expression. Maybe he's just had a long day?

He hums, broken from his self depricating reverie, evidently not realizing he's wearing his emotions so blatantly.

"Nothin' just tired, wanted to come home." He buries his face in the crook of your shoulder once you've pulled him into your room, his breath warm against your neck.

You must've just taken a shower, skin the scent of his favorite soap that always has him sniffing you randomly throughout the day. He squeezes you tighter.

You kiss the side of his head, reluctantly pulling yourself away only to grab his hands and move to the bed, not believing that there's nothing more than just fatigue that's got his usual goofy smile hidden behind such a frustrated countenance.

You crawl onto his lap once his back is against the headboard, his hands slipping underneath your shirt to rub your back, a habit when he's nervous. He knows what's coming, already avoiding your eyes.

"Are you gonna tell me what's wrong, Mark Lee? No excuses, this time." You mean business, but your voice is still as soft and comforting as ever. He can't resist looking up at you once you stroke his cheek with your thumb, featherlight.

With a drawn out breath, he reluctantly responds, knowing it'll only eat at him further if he doesn't.

"It's just....I feel like maybe I don't do enough for you...sexually? Like, I know everyone masturbates and It's totally fine you use a toy and stuff, I just feel like...like maybe It's better than...than what I can do? I know I'm not the most experienced but-"

He's stuttering, ears tomato red at the tips and he's a bit perplexed to see such a jubilant smile spreading across your face as he rubs the back of his neck, embarassed beyond belief.

"Mark..." you cup his soft, blazing cheeks in your palms, forcing him to meet your gaze as squeamish as he's suddenly become. "you're that upset over something like this?"

You don't sound judgemental nor teasing, despite the way you're grinning. But still, he wants to hide his face, wants to bow his head in shame. Suddenly he feels very foolish.

Not being able to stand seeing him so crestfallen, you reassure him, trurthfully. Your heart aches.

"Hey hey, look at me bub," wide doe eyes stare back at you, as you move some of his hair out from in front of his forehead where the strands have fallen. "you are more than enough, so good that when you're away I cant stand it. I have to touch myself, and I'm not just saying that."

His expression has regained some confidence, though you're not done yet. You've got this determination swirling in the pit of your belly, thrumming through your veins. You want him to know how truly incredible he really is, how good he really makes you feel.

"I think about your hands, your mouth, your dick. And you know what? By the end of it I'm not even satisfied, because that little toy isn't you. Do you understand? Hmm? Or do I have to show you?"

Suddenly his heartbeat is loud in his ears, adams apple bobbing as he swallows. He's hardened underneath you and you known that you've got him.

"I-I understand, now. But you could still show me, you know. If you want." His voice is a little unsteady but the corners of his soft, pink mouth twitch at the corners with an echo of a smile.

It's too much, Mark Lee absolutely will be the death of you. And so you kiss him, in a way that has his toes curling and his arms wrapping around your middle like a boa, refusing to let go.

Your fingers are tiwsted in his hair as you suck on his plush bottom lip, a gasp leaving his throat when your teeth nibble the sensitive skin. He can feel your hardened nipples through your sweater, pressing against his chest.

Your knees have tightened around the small of his waist as well, crotch rubbing against the strained bulge in his basketball shorts. You whine into his mouth.

"Mm, you should feel how wet you make me," his hands venture lower at this, until his warm fingertips are pressing into the flesh of your thighs. "go ahead Markie, touch me."

He groans, not being able to hold it back from his chest at the sound of your voice and your generous offer. His fingers, delicate and eager rub your pussy through your lounge shorts, and his jaw slacks a bit at your lack of underwear.

Your tongue slips against his, mouths parted and greedy while he slips his hand into the warmth of your shorts - and practically whines.

He wasn't expecting the abundance of your essence, the utter and complete lack of friction as his digits glide effortlessly through your silken folds. He takes his ring finger and presses the pad of it against your entrance, circling and listening to the lewd, slick sounds.

"Oh fuck," he croons free hand on your lower back and urging you against his touch. "you're s-so wet already, how are you so wet?" He's mystified, and completely fucked.

"I told you." You kiss him again, swallowing his reply and grinding your pussy against his palm. Without warning, he slips a finger in, and then another, falling apart at the way your walls so eagerly welcome them. He trembles.

"Mm, Mark." You're reaching down, underneath his arm and gripping his length, hot in your hand underneath the slinky material of his shorts. He twitches.

Suddenly his fingers are curling inside of you, and he begins to languidly pump them in and out of your sopping heat, on fire from his toes to the top of his head. You have to grip onto his shoulders, momentarily forgetting your previous endeavor of palming his dick.

He doesn't mind, not when you're whining like this, fingers digging into his skin, your body rocking against his while your walls hug and squeeze around his digits.

"Does it feel good?" He asks genuinley, but already knows the answer, too high off of this moment to not want his ego stroked. Your eyebrows are furrowed, lips kiss bitten, skin hot to the touch. You can barely make out an answer, and he swears all the blood in his body rushes straight to his dick.

"S-so good Markie - harder, please." You bury your face in the crook of his shoulder as tour thighs tremble around his narrow hips, lips trembling against his throat. He obliges you happily, anything to have you wilting against him like this. To hear more of the sounds you're making, for him.

Anyone outside the door would know whats going on, with the squelching of your wetness and the vigor in which he's fucking you with his fingers, heel of his palm nudging your clit with each thrust. You already feel that pit of pressure inside your belly expanding, so close to the brink of exploding.

He's fairing the same, if he's honest. You're rubbing up against the painful, throbbing boner in his bottoms, hidden behind only a thin layer of clothing. Your juices have leaked, leaving your own shorts wet at the crotch and the sight is erotic in a way that makes him buck up against you.

His free hand cups your face when he adds a third finger, pulling you from his shoulder to look at your face.

He damn near blows his load right then and there.

You look like you're on the verge of tears, not able to hold yourself up straight. A blush burns his skin, when you lean into his touch, fingers grasping at the front of his white tee.

"M'gonna cum soon Markie."

His heart threatens to explode from his chest when you turn your head and suck his thumb into your warm mouth, closing your eyes and bliss while his fingers pump into you, buried to the third knuckle.

This causes him to thrust into you with a sudden jolt, and the way his fingertips rub against the sweet spot deep inside of you, has the build up of pleasure finally spilling over like a broken dam.

The fingers on either of his hands are soaked now, one with your saliva and the other with your cum. You're gripping onto his wrists, letting him massage the inside of your walls while they contract around him, eyes rolled to the back of your head.

The sight, the feeling, is too much. You're a mess, a beautiful, sopping wet mess and without warning it's like a freight train is hitting him at full force, cock twitching willdy as pure bliss seeps through his pores.

You're still shivering, humping his hand while spurts of cum fill the inside of his shorts, dripping down the crease of his thigh and even soaking through the material a bit. Your eyes are barely able to open, but you will them to when you hear the almost imperceptible groan that strains from his throat when your heartbeat finally stops drumming so loudly in your ears.

Your belly lurches, skin tingly to the touch as he slumps against the headboard, peering up at you with more adoration than you can handle.

"I-I came in my pants." He breathes out, panting heavily alongside you. The thrill that runs down your spine like a tremor at the realization that he's cum, untouched, because of you, is what allows you to have half the mind to pull his fingers from your aching heat - replacing the others in your mouth.

His head lolls to the side, honey eyes trained on you like it’s impossible to look away while you suck your juices from his digits, humming around them. It's like he's staring up at the sun, mesmerized.

And then you're kissing him, and he's sure he's gone to heaven. He tastes you on the tip of your own tongue, and you're so sweet, so tender when you grasp his cheeks.

"I came in my pants too, by the way. Technically." You smile, and he chuckles warmly, giddy. His arms encapsulate you and he nudges the tip of your nose with his own.

The toy can have its fun, he thinks to himself. Because really, truly, nothing - and no one, will ever be as lucky and as enamored as he is with you.

#U KNOW WHAT TF GOIN ON #mark lee #mark lee x reader #mark lee x reader fluff #mark lee x reader smut #mark lee x reader scenario #mark lee smut #mark lee fluff #mark lee scenario #mark lee drabble #nct #nct x reader #nct 127 x reader #superm #superm x reader #nct smut #nct 127 smut #superm smut #nct mark x reader #nct 127 mark x reader #superm mark x reader #superm x reader smut #nct x reader smut #superm drabble #nct drabble #nct scenario #mark lee x reader drabble

[storiesforallfandoms]

inspiration ~ dominic fike

word count: 1486

request?: yes!

“hey luv can you do a dominic fike smut!! it’s fine if you can’t but yeh”

description: in which she’s having trouble writing her verse for their song so he decides to give her some inspiration

pairing: dominic fike x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut

masterlist (one, two)

I groaned as I balled up yet another sheet of paper I was trying to write on and threw it into the nearly overflowing trash bin. Dominic looked up at me, amusement on his face. “Any luck, hun?”

“Why does the label want a stupid sex song from us?” I asked. “I can write music about literally anything, but I can’t write a song about being intimate with my own fucking boyfriend.”

I knew the answer to that. It was because Dominic and I were dating and had yet to do a song together. Instead of another sickly sweet love song performed by two artists that were dating, the label wanted a steamy song from the two of us. After all, sex sells.

Except for me it doesn’t. I had never written an intimate song before. It just wasn’t my style; I didn’t feel comfortable writing about my personal, intimate moments. Dominic had no problem, though. He wrote his verse, and had an idea for the chorus, in roughly 10 minutes flat.

“Is our sex life that boring?” Dominic teased.

I shot him a playful look before throwing my pen at him. He chuckled as he caught it, effortlessly. “You know it’s far from boring. I just don’t like sharing those aspects of my personal life. I can’t write a song about our private sex life knowing that millions of people are going to hear it.”

I sighed and put my head down on the soundboard in front of me, where I had been desperately trying to write my verse for the past hour and a half. I was starting to admit defeat and give up on this whole song.

“What did you write about?” I asked, my voice mostly muffled.

“About you giving me head.”

My head shot up so fast as I felt my face beginning to heat up. Dominic laughed at the look on my face - which definitely had to be a sight for him to see at that moment.

“I - I - ” I stuttered, trying to find a way to respond to that.

Dominic smirked as he reached for his own songwriting notebook and passed it to me. I read through the verse he had already written, finding it full of innuendos and sweet words to describe how “heavenly” it felt when I gave him head.

I had no idea he felt this strongly about our oral sex. I mean, I knew I made him feel good. He made sure to vocalize that every time I had my lips wrapped around him, but I didn’t know he loved it so much that it was easy for him to write an entire verse about me giving him head. Just reading his verse made my panties become a bit more wet.

I crossed my legs in an attempt to subdue the ache between my legs, trying not to be so obvious. It was no use, though, as Dominic was giving me a knowing look before his eyes glanced down at my crossed legs.

“Why don’t I give you some inspiration for your verse, then?” he asked.

My eyes widened as his hand moved to push my legs apart. “Here? We can’t. What if someone catches us?”

“We have the studio booked out for another hour, we won’t be caught,” he assured me.

His hands made their way up my legs as he began leaning towards me. His lips were just inches from mine as his fingers looped around the belt loops of my jeans. While my mind was telling me this was a bad idea, and anyone could possibly catch us, my body was aching to see exactly how Dominic was going to give me this “inspiration” he was promising.

I giggled as he pulled me to stand and immediately started kissing my neck. One of his hands found its way between us, unbuttoning my jeans effortlessly before dipping below the waistband. I gasped as his fingers pressed against my clit, feeling myself becoming wetter by the second.

My head lulled back as I moaned from his touch, which Dominic took advantage of as he began to kiss over more of my neck. He began to rub my clit, slow at first but then began to speed up just a little. He pressed his fingers hard against my clit, send shivers of pleasure up my spine. I was trembling against him already, and couldn’t help but whine when he pulled his hand away from between us.

In one swift motion, Dominic pulled both my pants and my underwear down so they pooled around my ankles. He pushed me back until I was pressed against the soundboard, then lifted me up so I was sitting on it. He positioned himself between my legs and began to kiss over my thighs painfully slow, dragging it out in order to tease me.

I kept glancing up at the door every now and then, making sure no one was passing by or looking in at us. From where we were positioned, anyone who happened to glance through the window on the door would have a full view of what was happening between us. However, my worries about being caught were immediately forgotten when I felt Dominic’s tongue against my clit.

I ran one hand through his short hair before resting it on the back of his head, holding him in place as he began to lick long strokes up my clit. With the other, I clutched the edge of the soundboard so tightly my knuckles were turning white. I threw my head back and moaned Dominic’s name so loud, although I could care less about anyone hearing us.

His tongue felt like heaven and the pleasure building up inside of me was the best feeling I had ever experienced. I had to stop myself from trying to grind against his tongue, but it was hard when I was so desperate for him to speed up with his lapping.

The tip of his tongue teased my clit a moment before it started to go down further. Dominic pulled my hips out slightly, giving himself more access to my dripping pussy. I gasped as I felt the tip of his tongue against my opening, then cried out when I felt it push past my folds.

“Fuck Dominic!” I moaned in pleasure.

I pulled his head more, which pushed his tongue into me more. My body vibrated as he chuckled against me, sending a new type of pleasure coursing through my body.

I was in pure ecstasy as Dominic started bobbing his head. My legs started shaking, then the trembling continued to the rest of my body. My back arched and I felt the pleasure building up inside of me. I dug my nails into the edge of the soundboard, trying to hold back my orgasm but struggling to do so.

“Are you close, baby?” Dominic asked, looking up at me with those eyes that I loved so much. My brain was so foggy with pleasure that I couldn’t respond. I only managed a nod. He smiled and said, “Cum in my mouth, (Y/N).”

He placed his tongue against me again and began to lick broader strokes against my opening. Unable to hold it back much longer, I threw my head back and screamed in pleasure as I felt my climax rip through me. Dominic took hold of my hips, holding me close to him as I trembled with pleasure.

When he pulled away, I could still see my juices coating his chin. He wiped it off with the sleeve of his shirt as if it were nothing and helped me to stand. I stumbled a little, still trying to regain myself. I reached for his pants, wanting to return the favor, but he caught my wrist before I could.

“I want to return the favor,” I told him.

“You don’t need to return anything. I wanted to make you feel good, that’s enough for me,” he said. He took my face in his hands and kissed my forehead before kissing my lips. I could still taste myself on him, which started to turn me on again.

He dipped down to pull my pants and panties back up. I buttoned my jeans and fixed them so it didn’t look quite so obvious what had just happened.

“Was that enough inspiration for you?” he asked, a cheeky grin on his face.

I smiled back at him and kissed him again. “I definitely think so. Although, you may have to give me a little more inspiration later on. Not sure if I’ll be able to complete my verse and my chorus today.”

Dominic’s grin brightened more as I said this. We kissed one last time, then finally managed to pull away from one another so I could go back to my songwriting.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t too hard to write a verse after that.

#dominic fike #dominic fike imagine #dominic fike x reader #dominic fike smut #imagine #request #smut #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

[mandelene]

35 or 42

Angst or sass, you decide ;)

I got a lot of requests for 35 and 42, haha. Can’t say I’m surprised.

35. “I just want to save you!”

42. “I just saved your life, so you’re welcome.”

Alarm Bells Word Count: 867

It’s only once Alfred finds himself slumped against the headboard of his bed, clammy and drenched in his own sweat, that he realizes he may have a problem on his hands. Panic begins to set in when he looks down and sees that his hands are so pale that he can count every single vein in his palms.

He knows he should get up and find his phone so that he can call someone for help, but he’s afraid that if he stands, he’s going to faint.

It occurs to him that he should check his blood sugar, but before he can act on the thought, his body convinces him that he should just keep lying still and try to take a nap. The world is all fuzzy and moving at a snail’s pace.

A voice in the back of his head tells him he’s going to die if he doesn’t get up. He needs juice or candy — anything sweet.

But he’s too exhausted. He wants to sleep. Sleep sounds amazing right now.

He closes his eyes and tells himself he’s just going to rest for a few minutes. Maybe once he wakes up he’ll have enough energy to move around. Yes, that sounds reasonable…Just a quick break…

“Alfred, I tried to find the cereal you wanted, but I didn’t find the flavor you…Alfred? Alfred!”

Someone shakes him by his shoulders. He opens his eyes and wants to tell them to stop — that he just needs a second to rest…

“Alfred! Can you say something? Can you hear me?”

How could he not hear them? They’re shouting in his ear! Can’t they keep it down?

“Oh, Alfred…I’ll be right back. It’s going to be all right, love. Just hold on.”

The hands leave his shoulders, and Alfred slips farther down the headboard. His head finds his soft pillows and sinks into their embrace. His heart is beating really fast for some reason — it’s odd. Shouldn’t he feel relaxed?

He forces his eyes open. Alarm bells are going off somewhere in the back of his head. He knows something isn’t right but there’s nothing he can do about it.

He sees Dad rush into his bedroom carrying an orange box. He recognizes the object. That’s his emergency glucagon kit. Alfred has never had to use it before... The alarm bells in his head suddenly make sense. His blood sugar must be dangerously low.

Dad fills the syringe with the glucagon and pinches the skin of his upper right arm to give him the injection.

“No…'S gonna hurt,” Alfred slurs, and Dad shoots him a look that clearly means ‘are you fucking kidding me? That’s what you’re worried about right now?’

But Dad doesn’t yell at him, he just shushes him and says gently, “Let me help you, Alfred. Don’t move.”

“Ughh,” Alfred groans in protest, trying to move his arm away. Can’t Dad just give him some orange juice and call it a day?

His father’s patience must be thinning because his eyes narrow into a sharp glare and his face tightens. “First you neglect to check your blood sugar and put yourself in an emergency situation, and then you have the nerve to fight with me when I just want to save you?!? What is wrong with you!?!”

Before Alfred’s confused and groggy brain can come up with a response, the glucagon gets plunged into his arm. He winces at the pain, but it’s over in a flash. When he looks up at Dad again, he sees that he’s on the phone, calling 911.

So much for that nap.

The next few minutes are blurred, but he does start to regain some of his senses. Once he’s less groggy, he begins to process just how horrible he feels. It’s like that time he had a bad case of the flu a couple of years back. His body felt like gelatin back then, too.

“I just saved your life, so you’re welcome,” Dad says with a huff once he’s off the phone. “Help is on the way. How could you be this irresponsible, Alfred? When was the last time you checked your blood sugar?”

Yep, he’s in big trouble, and Dad isn’t going to like his answer to the question. “…Maybe like three days ago.”

Dad puts his head in his hands. “I didn’t think I had to supervise you like a child, but clearly I do. I thought you were old enough to manage your diabetes on your own now that you’re an adult.”

“…'M sorry…”

Alfred can see the look of intense worry on Dad’s face, even though he tries his best to hide it. He scared him. And for that, he truly is sorry. It’s probably a pretty traumatic experience to find your kid lying in their bed all cold, clammy, and unresponsive.

“I’m starting to feel better,” Alfred says, hoping this will ease Dad’s anxiety. “My head’s clearing.”

“Don’t ever do that to me again, Alfred.”

And even though he’s not sure if he can keep that kind of promise, Alfred nods his head and musters a weak smile.

Then, the paramedics knock on the door, and Dad leaves his side to let them in.

#hetalia #hws america #aph america #hws england #aph england #drabbles #hurt/comfort #diabetic alfred

[roberttchase]

Brettsey + right as rain: [character] says they’re fine right before collapsing. 🙂

Ahh! Okay, as someone who suffers from every day low blood sugar, as well as common fainting, I feel like this fic should be pretty accurate lol. I was originally going to do Matt passing out in 9x9 but decide to do something a little more original. Hope everyone enjoys!

Send prompts to my inbox

+ + +

She's usually good about eating, especially during shift. Even if it's hard to get a real meal in, Sylvie carries protein bars. She makes sure to have some kind of little pick me up in her jacket or up front in the ambo. Except today has been a lot- over nine calls, and while not all of them have been bad or made them actually have to transport a patient, its been non stop.

They haven't been back to the firehouse since they left around nine for their first call, and with it nearing almost eight at night, both women are exhausted. They had tried, of course, to get food. It wasn't like they were avoiding it. But twice, when they'd been in line to order lunch somewhere, dispatch had come over the radio and they'd been forced to leave without anything to show for their pitstop.

Pulling back onto the apparatus floor, Sylvie looks at Violet and has the urge to start laughing. Today has been one of the busiest in a long time. Sure they'll do as many runs as they have on any given shift, but not back to back like this. The PIC can tell her partners exhausted too, and so she offers a smile.

"Ready for food and sleep?"

"I'm just ready for shift to be over. And yet we have almost twelve hours left." The groan that comes out of Violet conveys just how Sylvie feels.

Hopping out of the ambo, the blonde pauses when the world tilts, dizziness slamming into her. Blinking hard, she forces herself to get through the spell, but she feels foggy even after it ends, jittery and shaky. Violets already halfway across the app floor by the time Sylvie actually starts to move. As she walks past the squad table, she nods when they wave and fully intends on making it inside, but Cruz stops her.

"Sylvie! Hey, I have a question to ask you."

Something flares up inside her, annoyance coursing through her veins. She's not sure where it's come from, or why she feels the need to be rude to one of her closest friends, but it's like she can't even remember how to talk normally.

"Joe, I'm really not in the mood right now." She doesn't look back, doesn't see the furrowed brow on every firefighters face. Doesn't hear Severide's 'damn, what'd you do to her?'.

The edgy, annoying feeling doesn't leave, if anything it intensifies, and Sylvie feels like a live wire. Her whole body feels like it needs to be moving, as if she's had ten espresso shots. Walking into the common room, she looks around. Truck and Engine are all there, eating and laughing, talking at a volume that grates on Sylvie, makes her head give a warning throb. Skin prickling, the paramedic moves past the table; past her friends and past her boyfriend, and goes instead to the cabinet to find something to eat. Nothing sounds good.

Another wave of dizziness hits her as Kidd walks up to rinse her plate.

"Girl, you have been busy today. We saved you some food."

The words sound far off and garbled, and all Sylvie wants to do is leave. Everything feels too much, too overwhelming. She doesn't notice Kidd frown or move her hand until she feels pressure on her shoulder.

"Brett, you okay?"

+ + +

Matt's in the middle of taking a bite of the lasagna that Gallo and Ritter have made, when he hears Kidd's voice from behind him. The sudden worry in her tone makes the Captain look up and turn his head. The sight makes him stand up before he registers what he's doing.

"Sylvie?"

"I'm fine..."

The PIC is pale, much more than she usually is, and she looks zoned out. Matt makes his way quickly to her, and in that moment he watches her skin change from porcelain pale to a chalky grey. He knows exactly what that means. The blonde crumples slightly and then pitches forward, eyes rolling into the back of her head. Matt manages just barely to lunge forward and grab her.

"Herrmann, go get Boden! Makami, grab the jump bag," the firefighter orders, not even fully aware of what he's saying. He and Stella get Sylvie down to the ground gently, laying her on her back and pushing her knees up, allowing for better circulation to her brain.

"What's going on?"

Matt looks up at Boden, then shakes his head.

"One second she was standing there, and she was a little out of it, and then she was passing out," Stella supplies, while Matt feels her forehead. No fever. Makami gets back in the room along with all of squad.

"I'm going to check her blood sugar, we didn't get a chance to eat..." the dark haired woman says, taking the blood glucose monitor out and prepping it.

As she does, a small noise resounds from the paramedic on the ground, and Matt pushes hair away from her face.

"Syl? Sylvie, are you awake?"

When no real answer comes, Matt looks at Violet, heart racing. "What's taking so long?!"

"Captain." Bodens voice makes Matt look back down at Sylvie, knowing he shouldn't be behaving like this. But it's Sylvie, and he needs her to be ok.

While Violet pricks Sylvie's finger, the woman stirs again, this time opening her eyes.

"Hey, don't talk, you're in the firehouse. You passed out," Matt keeps his voice soft and quiet, not wanting to disorient her more. Sylvie swallows convulsively, and Matt can tell she's nauseous.

"Her blood sugar's bottomed out, we need candy or juice," Violet announces, making both Kidd and Mouch move instantaneously. Moments later Matt's helping her sit up and choke down orange juice. After a cup of that, plus a pixie stick, Sylvie starts regaining color to her face.

Matt can't help but press a quick kiss to her forehead. "You scared me, sunshine."

"S-Sorry....scared myself too."

When it seems she's going to be okay, Matt helps Sylvie up and takes her to his office, his own body shaking slightly. He's grateful Boden had commented about taking 61 out of service, if he hadn't, Matt would be arguing right now while letting Kidd take care of his girlfriend. Sliding her onto his bunk, he presses another kiss to her, but this time catches her lips in his. It's quick and sweet.

"Get some rest Syl. I'm going to bring you a plate of dinner, and then you're going to nap. No arguments." The last two words he says in his Captain voice, which earns a small, tired smile from the woman in front of him.

"Yes sir."

#my fic #prompt #everythingaddictxx #sylvie brett #brettsey

[tintentrinkerin]

Title: Pink Pulse

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Rating: explicit

Tags: Bottom!Dean, Top!Sam, Witch OC, Magic, Demon Blood!Sam, Horny Idiots, Breeding kink, Dean has a magic pussy, slightly crack!fic

Summary: Dean wants to piss Ruby off and reclaim Sam as his. During a bender he meets Mandrake, a shady witch who offers him help.

Word Count: 4.5k

READ UNDER THE CUT OR ON AO3

When Dean Winchester regains his consciousness on this cold and foggy morning, he doesn’t really expect a surprise. He’s been drinking for a day… or maybe two, after Ruby, this damn bitch!, showed up again to lure Sam back. It’s her usual fucked up game, she does that when the angels aren’t looking. Sometimes, Dean knows it, Sam secretly calls her and when he sneaks out, Dean knows where’s going. And when he returns he stinks of blood and skank.

Dean’s head hurts like crazy. It takes several attempts for him to roll from his stomach to his back and then get a grip on the dumpster he’s lying next to and swing his body up. His feet feel jiggly and his stomach seems to be empty but he’s nauseous as hell. He hasn’t been robbed, that’s a good thing, his phone, his purse, even the keys to the Impala are still in his pockets. He checks his phone.

It’s 7.38am. Okay, great. He might’ve just passed out a few hours and if he’s super lucky, Baby is parked in close distance.

His phone shows several texts from Sam and from someone who calls themselves “Mandrake”. Doesn’t ring a bell. Not yet. Rather, Dean browses Sam’s texts which tone switches from mopey, to angry, to frightened and then there are over thirty missed calls. Holy shit, was Dean really gone for just a night? Dean tumbles out the alley and winks at the bright daylight he’s now exposed to. He might call Sam before he really freaks out. Some memories flare up in his brain about the damn fight, and that Dean insisted Sam was caught by Ruby so easily because he was underfucked and needed pussy a little too bad. He still thinks he’s right.

There is something to that word. Pussy. Dean loves saying it, Dean loves eating it, Dean loves everything revolving around it, but when he accused Sam of being a horny underfucked loser craving some, he felt bitter about it. A feeling that he had earlier, before Sam went to Stanford. Now Dean is a grown ass man with the Apocalypse on his heels, he has more pressing issues - or so it seems.

He phones Sam while stumbling through the alleys and trying to find Baby. Damn. His pants feel weird. Like he has a wedgie. In the front.

“Dean! For fuck’s sake, where are you?!”

Dean stops in his tracks and scratches his crotch.

“Chill out, Sammy. I’ll find out where I am, I just need to find the damn car.”

“I was a second away from letting Castiel locate you.”

“Forget the damn angel, I’m on my way.”

Sam scoffs into the phone.

“You’re such an idiot. Do you have any idea how worried I was?”

“No, no, I don’t. I thought you’re sucking pussy all night.”

Sam hangs up without another word.

There it is again, this fucking thought. That Sam could be out fucking Ruby while he’s been… what? What exactly happened between nightfall and now? There was a fight, not physical, but Dean has been so fucking close to slap the bitch across the face. Sam stopped him.

Dean finds the pub where he supposedly was drinking his anger away. It’s closed. The “Full Moon”. And it’s been a full moon last night. How damn right poetic. His phone rings.

“Yo, Sammy - wanna apologize and admit you’ve been eatin’ her all night?”

A female voice on the phone laughs. Dean frowns.

“Who’s this?”

“Mandrake. Don’t you remember?”

“I remember jack. Where’d you get my number?”

Dean knows, he should hang up. This is maybe a very bad idea. Give too much away. This woman sounds familiar but a lot of women do, he’s not exactly in celibacy since he’s back from Hell.

“I got it from you, idiot. And I got something else.”

Dean follows the main road for as long as he somehow feels he’s been here before. He surely didn’t drive far from the motel but far enough that Sam wouldn’t find him. This is so not usual for Dean. Being a mopey idiot? Yes. Getting drunk? Also very much yes. It itches in Dean’s pants and when he makes sure no one’s looking he sticks his hands in his boxers.

Holy shit. What the fuck.

Sam can’t focus. He sits at the motel room’s table, trying to do research, but he just can’t block out all of the things that distract him. The flickering TV. The humming of the air conditioning system. His fingernails clicking on his laptop’s keyboard. The thoughts. All of his thoughts combined as sinister and hilarious and frightening they are at the same time. Dean’s been gone for two damn nights. Okay, now he’s back, sitting on the sofa, manspreading. Only in his now deflated looking underwear. Watching something on TV that Sam can’t process. He sees the images, but his mind is racing like crazy around all the other things. The goosebumps on his own arms, the sound of his own breath. He feels the harsh and fast pumping of his heart, circulating his blood. He can feel his pupils dilate. And his legs won’t hold still. He has to move somehow.

Ruby’s blood wasn’t enough last time. The fuck wasn’t enough. Everything aches inside Sam. Anger is like a fist in his stomach but he isn’t quite sure if the anger is the fuel of everything.

He knows Dean hates it when he bounces like this, his legs are shaking and damn, something is pressing against the zipper of his jeans. Of course it’s not something. Thing is, he wants to ignore it.

Dean seems to be calm right now, but he’s sitting right under the air conditioning, the blow is ruffling his hair while he stares on the screen, his arms crossed, legs spread out. He scratches himself. There. Sam follows the movement and gulps.

And then, shit, Sam, stop fucking looking at your brother’s crotch! - but he can’t stop! - Dean isn’t scratching anymore. Two of his fingers press right between his thighs, the fabric rustles, and it turns wet. The fucking boxers get wet. Dean doesn’t even seem to notice, but he should. It’s his body! It’s his-

Sam can’t even think it without feeling a rush of hot blood and sharp imaginary knives stabbing his lower stomach. Pulse spikes up. Pupils dilated. Mouth waters. Sam tries to hide a grunt but he can’t.

“Sammy, you good?”, Dean asks, still rubbing his-

Sam looks at him. He must look like a drug addict in withdrawal. Well, maybe he is. He’s maybe addicted to- it’s all Ruby’s fault. She came when Dean died and she lured him in, now he can’t stop thinking of her warm salty blood in his mouth. Or his teeth on her skin. His tongue-

“Fuck.”

Dean looks irritated.

“Hey, look. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you angry, I don’t even remember most of the fight. It’s only twelve or thirteen days from now and I’m-- I’m normal again.”

Sam inhales. Dean’s scent was building over the last couple of hours and now it’s so thick, musky and intoxicating that it’s hard to ignore it.

“Shut up and take a shower.”

Dean now closes his legs and presses his hands on his thighs. He looks at Sam with furrowed eyebrows.

“There’s nicer ways to tell me I still stink of garbage.”

If it was only fucking garbage! Sam is so close to yell it, to jump up, throw the table over or punch a wall.

“You don’t stink.”

“Then what?”

Dean gets up and walks towards the table. His chest is heaving, Sam notices. Breathing heavy. Such a broad chest, covered in goosebumps. Sam feels incredibly sick all of a sudden.

“I can smell…”, Sam needs to cover his mouth and nose with his hand. The closer Dean comes the worse it gets.

“Now tell me already, if I don’t stink anymore what’s the problem?”

“Dean, I could smell a chipmunk’s fart from miles away, that is a problem.”

Sam needs to breathe. He jumps up and throws himself over to the window and opens it. He should’ve done that way earlier, he realizes. But Dean is behind him now.

“Unless we have chipmunks with flatulences in here, I still don’t have a clue what’s going on.”

Dean touches Sam’s shoulder. Adrenaline. Dopamine. Oh holy shit, the whole hormonal time bomb erupts inside Sam’s body. When he turns around, he’s sure he looks super frightening to Dean, but he can’t stop, won’t stop and pulls Dean close. Dean freezes. A shaky little laugh.

“Sammy… what…”

“I can smell your pussy”, Sam growls, his lips on Dean’s skin.

Dean doesn’t smell like a woman at all, everything about him is testosterone, if there wasn’t this tiny anomaly about him.

That he got himself hexed by a shady witch.

There’s no struggle against Sam’s force when he pushes Dean against the table and then -- as if he waited for it -- Dean hops on that table, opens his legs for Sam.

“What are you doing?”, he still asks, his green eyes big and glassy, lips a cute pout.

Sam has no answer to that than before: “Your smell drives me mad. I need…”

What does Sam need? His brother? His magical pussy? Or wouldn't it be easier to run away to mountains nearby and scream from the bottom of his lungs until he passed out?

Decisions, decisions.

Dean's face has the colour of fresh pink guava juice, his freckles pop, his eyes pop. His lips part for a second. His tongue flicks. No Sam knows exactly what he needs.

“Do you need it? My pussy?” Dean whispers. He slowly pulls his boxer briefs down to his ass but then Sam needs to help, Dean clings on him, Sam pulls. Dean lays across the - thank GOD, long table and is spread out like a delicious meal, while Sam frees Dean from the fabric. It's more ripping then pulling and Sam groans, shit, he's ripped them apart. But then, when Dean opens his legs even more, lying here on his back like a beetle, helpless and weirdly pliant, the odor of Dean's pussy makes Sam cuss and tumble.

“Fuck, Dean…”

“Huh? Not good?”

Sam is out of words, super-ego just logged out with an ‘I have no power here’ and damn right it doesn't!

Dean's pussy is perfect. Another grunt. Holy shit. Instead of an answer for Dean, Sam kneels between Dean's wonderfully wide spread legs. His brother is the definition of a bottom here. Just opening his legs for anyone. Even Sam. The smell is intense and rich, Sam knows it from the other women he's been with... but Dean has one perfect twist. He smells like Sam's brother, too. Musky and citric. And that makes Sam go lizard brain.

“I need to taste you.”

Dean now even slides closer, his legs lie on Sam's shoulder. Sam jerks up and leans over the table, over Dean's naked body. This pussy is just the material of Sam's wet dreams. His nose rubs Dean's skin under his belly button and Dean moans.

“Do it, Sammy. Fucking do it or I'll push your face in my pussy myself.”

Well. Not the worst threat he's ever received. Sam's hand trails between Dean's legs and when he feels the wetness, a fucking intense wetness that is spread all over. Even the thighs are a little glossy from Dean's fluids.

Sam needs to see. Going down, he pushes Dean's legs apart even wider and dives in between these legs. Pink and juicy, dripping wet. The smells almost knocks him out, makes his mouth water and a generous drop of drool falls from his lips. He cannot fucking take that anymore. And Sam pushes Dean closer to him, winds his arms under Dean's now trembling legs and -

Dean cries out, muscles flex, he kicks out, then sinks down again. Just one damn lick.

Sam is in such rage that he can't be fully a gentleman here and do everything slowly, patiently. He's hungry and his primal urge has taken over. Greedy, he licks up and down Dean's labia, tongue working and opening his brother's pussy up and Dean sounds so fucking hot. No girl or guy ever made him sound so needy and so desperate for a fuck. He tastes just as good as Sam imagines when he sucks the thick and sweet wetness from Dean's pussy, sucks on the folds while his fingers run up and down Dean's thighs and Sam needs one free hand now, his thumb rubbing just above the hood of the clit, other finger just teasing his entrance. Not really pushing it in, just a little rubbing while Sam sucks and licks and circles Dean's clit with his tongue.

Dean feels like he is losing his mind. Not only that Sam really is between his legs and gives him mind blowing oral sex, fuck, Dean loves it. He thought Sam was angry but the way he devoured Dean's pussy, anger was definitely gone. He can't stop moaning and winding and his hands in Sam's hair. When he looks down and sees his brother's face up and down, he looks very focused on what he's doing. And in Dean feelings build up, it's a heat and a tumbling, never felt like this.

In a moment of taking a deep breath and Sam looks up, Dean's juices run down his chin and in the collar of his shirt. “Dean, you taste so good…” he says and bites in Dean's thigh. Doesn't hurt. “Better than anything.”

Dean shudders. He needs more.

“Sammy, keep going.”

Sam smirks, his thumb circling Dean’s now swollen and hot clit, his whole pussy is slick with his wetness. No woman Sam ever had sex got that wet.

His thumb is gentle, a perfect rhythm of circling. Stopping. Circling. Stopping. Little pressure. Dean’s body feels on fire.

“Is that what the girls tell you when you go down on them?” Sam asks, his voice rustling leaves.

Dean can’t help but utter a short, almost hysterical laugh.

“I never really listened.”

Tsk. Tsk. Tsk, Sam clicks his tongue.

“You should’ve. Not only that. Listen to what they say but what-”

Sam finger slides in Dean’s wet pussy with one fast but well adjusted movement. Dean winds and arches his back. Tries to get Sam’s finger away and yet…

“-when they want to escape you, you’re doing it right.”

“Sam, for fuck’s sake! I had enough sex with enough people to know the god damn basics!”

But feeling it himself gives him a whole new sense for it. Sam’s finger moves, wet sounds, in and out and it takes not even a blink and Dean begs for more. Two fingers, holy shit, Sam’s fingers are thick and long and when he starts fucking Dean’s pussy with them while sucking on his clit, the impulse to turn on his stomach and either crawl away or present his naked ass to invite Sam to fuck him -- Dean wants both!

Sam’s ‘come hither’ movements tighten the knot in Dean’s stomach. That’s not what an orgasm feels like for him when he’s about to blow. This is so much deeper, feel tight and hot right up to his lower belly. The noises Sam makes as he sucks Dean’s clit are downright vulgar. And the faster Dean’s breath goes, the more he tries to wind away, Sam’s hand around his upper thigh is a bench vice - he won’t let Dean go. Not unless…

Dean can feel it. He whines “fuck, Sammy, ‘m gonna cum…” and this would be the same moment he came. If Sam just sucked his dick. But this is… slower. And Sam goes absolutely frantic, like a boxer he just goes for Dean’s weak spots and he has definitely found them now and he rubs Dean’s insides, sucks his clit, damn how big can such a tiny thing swell? And Dean fucks himself on these fingers, his rhythm clashes against Sam’s, the bigger the friction, the better. His fingers clench in Sam’s hair and then finally, Dean comes, he feels like exploding, black dots in his sight and he has to close his eyes. His heartbeat goes straight up to his throat, only faint moans, a ‘holy fu…’ but he can’t even finish a fucking curse. Sam won’t stop fucking him, but slower now, more gentle. His tongue presses against Dean’s clit. Dean feels Sam’s breath on his wet skin. Everything tingles still, Dean’s hornystupidmanbrain is on standby, extremities just twitch helplessly.

When Dean opens his eyes he only sees the dirty brown ceiling and the dim light.

“I need a smoke”, Dean blurts out. Oh, the sweet refusal to acknowledge what just happened.

“Fuck, you clenched so hard I thought you would break my fingers.”

Sam sounds so deep, so gravely. Does Ruby hear that a lot?

Dean laughs, trying not to choke on his jealousy. Sam just ate him out. His brother. Just. Ate. Him. Out! Dean feels like he took drugs, heavy, light, euphoric. Not tired. This doesn’t seem to end in a hangover.

“Sam. I really, really wanted that”, another stupid thing to stay. But Dean’s stupid, especially when things are about Sam.

Sam scoffs. “I guessed, otherwise you would’ve punched me to a pulp.”

“Damn right…”

Dean covers his face with his arm, the dim light is too much right now. His breath hasn’t even calmed down yet and somehow, he has to admit, he’s not satisfied. The climax gave him a solid blank for a couple seconds but even now he’s throbbing and wet, Sam’s spit hasn’t made him any drier.

Dean is still a powerhouse of sex, Sam can’t deny it. Resting between his legs doesn’t help but he doesn’t dare to get up and reveal that he is rock-hard and ready. Eating his brother out has been a wild ride already, something he maybe dreamed of as a teenager (but even then - who would imagine Dean as a girl?), of sucking him off like he saw when Dean brought a girl or a dude home. Sam needs to get himself up, slowly, Dean is lying there, arm covering his eyes, but a smile on his face. He grins like an idiot. It’s cute.

Silence.

Awkward.

Sam doesn’t know what to say now, he’s lost control, because his brother grew a pussy. How could you ever explain that? Gladly he doesn’t have to.

Dean gets up, his eyes look teary, but not in the sad I’m-about-to-cry way. He rather pulls Sam close and whispers, something so idiotic, something so innocent, and yet something that makes Sam’s boner grow even more.

“You didn’t even kiss me first.”

“Sorry”, Sam replies, he’s just as stupid.

Dean makes it easy for Sam, wrapping his arms around Sam’s neck and kissing him. This is just another short circuit for him and before Sam realizes what he’s doing, his vision turns red. His instincts and his lust are wired to the taste and smell of blood - and Ruby. This is not Ruby. Gladly, this is not Ruby. It’s Dean. The one he thought of when it first happened, the one he was mourning so deeply. Now he gets what he wants from the person he wants. Bingo.

His brother is heavy, but Sam’s strength is to be reckoned with these days. It’s easy to lift him up - Dean’s legs wind around his hips, his ass feels so great. Firm. Dean moans in his mouth when Sam throws him on one of the motel beds and follows, laying his full weight on his brother.

“Sammy…”

Damn, Dean’s fumbling on his zipper.

“You’re big.”

Scoff.

“Am I?”

“Yeah.” Dean looks really intrigued. Sam lets it happen. Dean slides a hand in his boxer briefs and squeezes his raging dick.

“Fuck. Dean.”

These big pleading eyes. Sometimes Dean looks at him like this. And he looks younger than Sam now. Needy. Small. Vulnerable. Sam can never say no when Dean looks like this. He kicks out of his jeans and Dean is so damn impatient. Fabric tears on the seams. Sam doesn’t care.

The way Dean strokes him, the close they are it would be easy, way too easy just to slide inside Dean. Feel his wetness, how tight. How hot. And greedy. Swallowing Sam’s cock like he did with his fingers. Dean stops him. Sam’s heart sinks. It hurts.

“Take everything off”, Dean just says, “I don’t want to feel like quick fuck-”

Sam just has to laugh.

“Never”, he vows and then pulls the shirt over his head and throws it over his shoulder.

The way he towers over Dean, ready to mount, he feels like a steam breathing monster. He really shouldn’t do that. He’s spiralling down to something he never wanted to be. But he can be with Dean this way. Just this once…?

More than once…?

Dean’s legs around his hips trap him now, he can feel the slick wet folds on his cock already and all he can do now is just thrust in. Around his fingers Dean already felt like heaven and hell on earth, but this. Sam hisses, he feels like growing fangs, he digs his teeth in Dean’s neck, he tastes salt and sweat, Dean whimpers but doesn’t complain.

“God… so deep…”, he says. Like he can’t believe it.

“Hurts?”

Dean makes a sound that says ‘nuh-uh’ and that’s enough for Sam. He even pulls Sam closer, his legs force his cock deeper inside this fucking wet and inviting pussy.

This is so much better than Ruby. He needs to fucking forget her. The deeper he sinks, the harder he thrusts and sweat runs down in his eyes and makes them sting, he forgets about what all of this could mean for them. He just wants to fuck Dean silly. And Dean clings on him like he’s drowning in this feeling, no matter how harsh Sam is. His hips are snapping, damn, it must hurt, right? He eventually slows down to kiss Dean sloppily and open mouthed, their moans intertwining and building a cacophony of sounds, loud and rough, soft at the same time. Sam manages to slow down a little and Dean relaxes.

“I want you to fuck me from behind”, Dean mumbles on Sam’s lips, trying to hide the fact he’s blushing deep.

Sam huffs.

“Yeah. Whatever you want.” Babe.

He almost called Dean babe. Sam winds out, slides out, winces. It feels so good, Dean’s so wet, Dean’s just perfect.

On all fours, arms spread out like a silly yoga pose, back stretched… Sam definitely dreamt of this more than once. This time he pushes in slowly, and Dean arches his back. His breath staggers, yelps. But yet again, after a second of adjusting, Dean starts moving. Fucking himself on Sam’s cock and saying such nasty, irritating, hot things. He mewls and begs for more and then.

“God, Sammy, cum inside me!”

Sam stops. Dean repeats. “Cum inside me!”

There’s no way Sam can deny him, he’s close since Dean started working him like he did it a thousand times already. Sam grips those hips tight, leaves white marks, then pink long traces of his fingernails as he snaps in Dean’s pussy, shit, these sounds. Juicy and full, and Dean’s longing. This is the best fuck. This is it. This is what will blow Sam’s mind for hours, the whole night. Days.

“You want me to breed you, big bro?”, he hears himself say, the animalistic side, awake, fully in rage makes him say it, he can’t stop. “You want me to pump my load in ya?”

Dean nods frantically, his mewling and crying is so pretty. He’s still bouncing on Sam’s cock, his wonderful, round and firm ass, perfect for slapping. And Sam does. Dean whimpers, “please, more, Sammy, more!”

Sam claws at Dean’s hair, pulls it, overstretching his neck. He’s so out of control he might fuck Dean all bruised and sore.

“Touch your clit, c’mon babe, rub it. Cum on my cock and you’ll get it. I’ll knock you up”, whoa.

Dean does it, his hand traces down his body and he starts rubbing his swollen, red, overstimulated clit, squeezes it between his fingers and starts rubbing, circling.. hard to find the thing that gets you going, right? But soon, Dean writhes even more, his voice turns higher. Legs start shaking. “I think I’m gonna-”

He cums on Sam’s cock, clenching and moaning, getting so wet it drenches Sam’s crotch and runs down both their legs. The feeling is amazing, Sam’s checked out once again, babbling “Good boy, good boy” and then shoots a generous load of cum, he tumbles and hips snap and snap, until he’s finished.

They collapse, sweaty and gasping for air, Dean makes incoherent post orgasm noises.

Another period of silence that is only interrupted by the usual motel room sounds that creep back in Sam’s ears. He wants to pull out but Dean claws on his arm, his legs trapping Sam’s.

“No, no. Not yet. Please not yet.”

Sam sinks back and gives Dean what he needs, the closeness. Even though after some time fluids will dry and get cold. It will get sticky and that’s when Sam will have the urge to shower.

Not with Dean. They stay like this for minutes before Dean turns around, Sam lets him. They lay beside each other and the whole scene is hilariously and bizarrely romantic. They keep kissing and Dean’s like the devourer of Sam’s kisses and affections.

Dean rubs his nose on Sam’s, humming. He seems so proud of himself, so satisfied, but then his eyes widen.

“Oh. Shit.”

He gets up on one elbow and looks at the mess they made. Cum is leaking out of him and he wipes it from his thigh. Tastes it.

“Dean, really?”

“Hey. It’s only natural. Have you never been curious?”

Sam shrugs. “Yeah I was, but I never thought you would be.”

“You know this breeding kink thing. I did that before but I- I mean. Hot fantasy, works with anal but… Do I need an emergency pill now?”

Dean’s face is deadpan serious. Sam clears his throat to hide that he actually wants to laugh. How could he know?

“Just to be sure, I would say a magical pussy isn’t spunk proof. We could get to a pharmacy ...”

Dean falls silent and leans into Sam. There’s so many things unsaid and he’s not in the mood to unpack it. Sam is reluctant either. It’s enough for him to hold Dean close, pet his hair and keep kissing him over and over until they feel in the mood again. That Dean’s been hexed is a secondary matter. They will enjoy it as long it lasts.

Sam goes down on Dean, even when he’s still leaking cum, he just swallows it, he doesn’t mind. And when they get tangled into each other, both thinking ‘well, if he needs an emergency pill we’ll make it worth it’.

Consequences? Which consequences?

Apocalypse might come, they might enjoy every fucked up delightful thing along the way.

#wincest #dean x sam #sam winchester #dean winchester #rating:nc 17 #dean with a pussy #wincest smut

[aquafolia]

Sokai Day Fic 1: True Love’s Kiss(es)

So yes, I am a Classics/ancient history blog, and this is obviously super different from the content I normally post on this blog. Please forgive me, but I’ve recently become OBSESSED with Kingdom Hearts and I have nowhere else to post this stuff at the moment. So please forgive me, normal content will resume soon!

Anyway, as I said I just started playing the KH games for the first time this summer and it’s been so much fun. And seeing all the amazing stories and artwork in this fandom has inspired me to write some stuff too. Anyway, I’m Holly, and I hope y’all enjoy :)

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True Love’s Kiss(es)

‘Ugh!’ Kairi groaned, unceremoniously setting down the basket she held in her hands. ‘I forgot that when you pick apples, you have to actually carry them all back, too!’

‘Your basket’s not even half full, Kairi,’ Sora remarked, ‘and we’ve only just started!’

She grinned. ‘Well then, it’s a good thing I have a strong, manly boyfriend to help me carry all of these.’

He could hardly argue with that. Sora feigned displeasure by rolling his eyes and letting out a dramatic groan, which made Kairi giggle. But then he walked over to her, grabbing one of the basket’s handles as she grabbed the other, and the pair made their way deeper down the rows of apple trees. They could hear the distant shouts and laughs of their friends echoing through the orchard as they went. Apparently, Twilight Town– a world basically in perpetual autumn–  was known for its fall festivities, including its legendary apple orchards. Once they’d visited the orchards, the gang hoped Remi would help them make apple pies, apple cider, and all sorts of goodies during their visit. To that end, the group had decided to break up into teams in order to pick as many apples as they could carry. Today, Sora and Kairi were paired up. But Sora knew that if they only returned with a measly half basket of apples, the others would surely tease them, accuse them of slacking off.

They wouldn’t be totally wrong, Sora thought with a grin. Sure, Kairi was determined to focus on their task: she was deep in concentration, examining each apple carefully before deciding to place it in her basket. Sora, on the other hand, was much more determined to get Kairi off task. It wasn’t that Sora didn’t want to help out, but this was an opportunity for him and Kairi to spend some time alone– that was a temptation greater than any fruit, in Sora’s world.

Kairi set her sights on a shiny red apple that hung high on a nearby tree. She stood up on her tiptoes, making adorable little noises as she tried to grab it. Sora was staring intently, but not at the apple: Kairi’s form was stretched out in front of him as she reached high over her head, accentuating her curves, and Sora was mesmerized. It was only when she said his name that he snapped out of his trance: ‘Sora,’ she called out, not taking her eyes off the fruit, ‘would you come over and help me with this one? You should be able to–’

Kairi shrieked as Sora, having silently moved behind her, wrapped his arms around her legs and hoisted her up onto his shoulder.

‘Tall enough now?’ he asked casually.

Her surprised squeak was the only reply Kairi could muster. Once she’d successfully picked the apple, Sora released her hips. He held her by the waist as her body slid down his until she landed gently on the ground. Even in the autumn chill, Sora could feel his cheeks burning.

Having regained some of her composure, with a giggle, Kairi said, ‘Guess we make a pretty good team, huh?’ before she turned to the next tree. Sora tried to hide it by replying with a level ‘Absolutely,’ but inside, he was beaming: watching the effect he had on Kairi just never got old for him– but given how hard he had to try to appear cool and unfazed, it wasn’t like he was much better than she was.

Now that he’d had his fun, Sora walked up next to Kairi to help out. The pair picked apples side by side, happily chatting and admiring each other's finds, and over time, their basket filled with bright red apples. While they worked, something about the orchard nagged at Sora’s mind, but he couldn't place it. As he studied a large, blood-red apple in his hands, it finally clicked.

‘All these apples remind me of Snow White,’ Sora remarked. ‘Aqua told me how Snow White’s evil stepmother tried to kill her by getting her to eat a poisoned apple. The dwarves thought she was dead, so they placed her in a beautiful glass casket,’ Sora recalled, his eyes still fixed on the apple. He found himself absentmindedly tracing the spot on his chest where a scar marred the skin over his heart: the permanent reminder of his sacrifice for Kairi– well, his first one, anyway.

‘But she wasn’t dead,’ Sora continued, thought bleeding into memory. ‘She was asleep, and she couldn’t wake up…’

‘Until her true love saved her.’

That broke Sora out of his reverie. He looked up to find Kairi already gazing at him, her eyes soft and sincere. Sora replied, ‘Yeah… Reminds me of another princess I know.’

Did she really mean…?  They’d talked about their first adventure numerous times before, but she’d never said it like that.

‘I would have killed for a nice bed to sleep on,’ she continued. ‘You and Riku took me on quite a journey– napping peacefully in a meadow sounds pretty good to me,’ Kairi said with a grin.

A breeze drifted through the orchard, rustling the leaves over their heads. ‘I remember your dad telling us all those old fairy tales when we were kids,’ Sora said. ‘After all the adventures we’ve had… it’s strange to think we sort of became one ourselves.’

‘They’re not always as fun to live as they are to hear…’ Kairi remarked, almost to herself, ‘when you don’t know if there’ll be a happy ending after all.’ Her eyes grew distant, drifting aimlessly down the row of apple trees.  ‘I… I still remember waking up at Hollow Bastion, seeing that Keyblade in your chest… And then how you–’ she started, but then faltered, unable to bring herself to say what came next.

Sora gently placed a hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him. She still seemed lost in thought, not meeting his eyes. ‘I know what you mean. But we did get one, didn’t we, Kairi? It took a while, and we’ve had to find each other again and again, but now you’re here. And thanks to you, I’m here. We’re finally together, and nothing is ever going to change that. That’s the best ‘happily ever after’ I could have wished for.’

The pair were alone, the trees standing sentry around them, but his voice grew softer all the same: these words were just for her. ‘All that doesn’t really matter anymore,’ Sora continued. ‘What I mean is… what matters is that we’re here now. That means it was all worth it.’ He took her hand, interlacing their fingers. ‘Back at Hollow Bastion, when I saw your eyes open just before mine closed, when I knew your heart was safe… it was worth it, Kairi.’

She finally looked up at him. Sora hoped his eyes conveyed the sincerity of his words: It had all been for her– and it had all been worth it, every moment. Every time Sora got to see her sweet smile, got to hear her lovely laugh, it was worth it. And now, he wasn’t just connected to her across the worlds by promises and oaths– if he wanted to find Kairi, all Sora had to do was reach for her hand. How was that not a dream come true?

A small smile forming on her lips, Kairi gave him a look of such love and gratitude that Sora knew she felt the same. ‘It just makes our time together now even more precious to me,’ she finally said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. ‘I’m never going to take this for granted.’

Sora decided then to gather her into his arms and bring her close, her head resting in the crook of his neck, his cheek on her soft hair. ‘You know,’ he started after a pause, ‘I have to admit, when I heard Snow White’s story, I got a bit jealous.’

Kairi pulled back just enough to shoot him a quizzical look. ‘Jealous?’

‘Yeah, of Prince Florian. All he had to do to wake up Snow White and save the day was kiss her– pretty nice deal, if you ask me,’ Sora explained. Kairi smiled, but her eyes were still a bit sad. So he continued, a grin spreading across his face, ‘Don’t know why I didn’t think to try that first…’

‘Oh, Sora!’ Kairi giggled, giving Sora a playful smack on his arm, her face brighter. ‘What, does that mean you thought about kissing Ven at some point, too?’ she countered.

‘I was getting so desperate to find the Power of Waking, I just might have!’ Sora replied, and they both laughed again. Keeping one arm around Kairi, he took a bite from the apple still in his hand. It was crisp and fresh, and amazingly sweet– it was just right, like everything else in this moment.

Suddenly, with a smirk on her face, Kairi plucked the half-eaten apple from Sora’s hand. She lifted the fruit to her lips, holding Sora’s gaze as she took a large bite next to where he’d just bitten, a small drop of juice running down her chin as she chewed. All Sora could do was watch her, hopelessly mesmerized. It was bold, yet playful– Kairi to a T. Before Sora’s brain could fully resume normal functioning, Kairi said, feigning innocence, ‘What? Isn’t sharing fruit kind of our thing? It’s no paopu fruit, but still…’

Staring into her eyes, the radiant sunset bathing them in soft, warm light, Sora grew bold himself: They’d spent so long in silence, so long apart, why waste any time? He’d fought so hard to find her, to come back to her, over and over again. She was right here– if he wanted to kiss her, what on earth was there to consider? Sora reached a hand forward to cup her cheek, wiping the juice from the corner of her lip with his thumb. Kairi let the gentle pull of his thumb part her lips. ‘It is pretty good,’ Sora said, ‘but… you definitely taste better.’ And with that, he lowered his head and kissed her. He heard the sound of the apple landing on the ground, utterly forgotten, as Kairi’s arms wound around his neck.

And Sora had to admit, kissing Kairi felt pretty magical– Maybe those fairytales were onto something after all.

But of course, the distant sound of Aqua, Ven, and Riku calling out in search of them forced the pair to break their kiss, albeit begrudgingly. Sora expected Kairi to step away, pick up her basket, maybe call out to their friends– but she didn’t. She stayed as she was in Sora’s arms, one hand resting on his shirt, over the scar. Sora could feel his heartbeat racing under her touch. When she looked up at him again, something in her eyes was different. Still happy, but mixed with something else– not just happiness, but a determination to be so.

‘This is a pretty large orchard,’ Kairi remarked, her eyes bright. ‘Our friends probably won’t find us for a little while longer…’

‘We’d better not make them wait too long, or Axel will use his chakrams to–’

Kairi grabbed Sora’s hoodie with both hands and pulled him back down to her lips. For a moment, Sora stood frozen, eyes wide with shock. But as she melted into him, his eyes fluttered closed and he wound his arms around her, each kiss between them less ‘Fairy Godmother Friendly’ than the last. Traditionally, in all those fairytales, the heroes only ever got one ‘True Love’s Kiss.’ Sora considered himself the luckiest prince of all time– he had a never ending supply.

Twilight Town was always just that– hanging in perpetual dusk. So Sora really didn’t know how long he and Kairi spent like that, lost in laughter and kisses and caresses beneath the trees. But once their friends’ voices grew dangerously close, Sora and Kairi managed to untangle themselves, wiping swollen lips, readjusting ruffled clothing, and fixing disheveled hair (not that Sora’s hair had been tidy in the first place– and Kairi burst out laughing when she realized her attempts to smooth it didn’t do much good, either). As Kairi called out to their friends, Sora picked up her basket, now full of delicious looking apples, and the pair began to head back toward the orchard entrance. They probably hadn’t gathered the most apples– and he was sure their friends would point that fact out–  but Sora didn’t care one bit. He wouldn’t have traded this day for anything.

‘Hey Kairi?’ Sora said as they walked, ‘For the record, if I’m ever in a fruit induced coma– or any other kind of coma, really– feel free to make out with me, in order to revive me. Thought I should say so, you know, just in case.’

‘Oh, really?’ She teased back. ‘I’ll make sure to tell Donald– you always complain he never uses Curaga when you need it.’

‘What? No! Ew, gross!’ Sora blanched as Kairi dissolved into laughter. But when his eyes found hers again, he couldn’t help but smile.

As her giggles died out, she replied, 'Okay, I’ll remember that… But that doesn’t mean you can go throw yourself into danger so I’ll kiss you better!’

‘I can’t help it– when you kiss me, I feel like I can do anything,’ Sora answered simply. Kairi’s eyes widened at his remark, and she ducked her head as her cheeks bloomed pink. Sora beamed. He may have been laying it on her thick, but Sora wasn’t lying: He had true love on his side– the most powerful magic of all.

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#sokai day 2021 #sokai #kairi #sora #I'm new to this ship but absolutely obsessed #here is my humble addition to sokai day :) #sokaiday

[candychronicles]

quarantine // k. bakugou

A/N: this is my take on the kink experimentation bnharem server collab! hope you enjoy!

CHARACTER PAIRING: Bakugou Katsuki x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 2,534

WARNINGS: face-fucking, pegging, smacking, dom reader, implied knife play

SYNOPSIS: being stuck in quarantine is not easy, especially for heros who are so used to being active. in order to help your anxious boyfriend, you hatch a plan, one that will allow him to be relaxed while delving into your desires.

Want to enjoy more kinks? Head on over the the masterlist! 

things had taken a turn for the worse: people were getting sick, people were dying, over a novel virus. panic had settled in thick as the world raced to gain control of the situation. many had begun to hoard things like toilet paper and hand sanitizer, while many simply ignored what was going on and continued to party the night away.

strict protocols were put in place to curb the spread of the virus like closures or revisions of rules over places like restaurants and bowling alleys, gatherings of 100, 50, then 10 or more were prohibited, guidelines and updates were constantly being blasted so people could stay aware of what was going on. eventually, it came to a point where stay in place orders were mandated and eventually enforced. nobody was allowed to go in and out, distribution of food and water were manned by national guards, and only the most essential of workers, like police and government employees were allowed out of the house. 

the only other exception to the rule were pro-heros, who were invited to news, police, fire stations to report the facts and quell anxiety about the virus. villains were still flooding the streets, even more so with quiet streets and empty buildings, and with police and national guards being split so thin to begin with to care for the citizens, pro-heros were forced to take in an extra workload.

however, things with the virus only continued to get worse, and as more and more villains congregated with their newfound freedom, many got sick and decided that their life wasn’t worth galavanting around. and so the time of needing an influx of pro-heros dwindled out and with that came shifts, just enough to keep the peace and help where it was needed without risking any spread. even though these men and women were heros, many were still susceptible to illness and it was important to take precautions as much as possible. 

this meant that Bakugou was stuck inside, subjected to the same punishments as anyone else who tried to leave the house without good reason. it would be another three weeks before it was his turn to work again and you could feel the frustration boiling under his skin. you had attempted to console him, to get him to relax, but his energy was too much and your words were fruitless.

your brain had worked tirelessly to attempt to figure out what you could do to help. he needed something different, something that would stimulate him enough to release his energy while also keeping within quarantine guidelines, something that would make him feel alive within these four walls. with those thoughts in mind, your body moved of its own accord, padding around your small house, attempting to find something that would help.

massage? no, he wouldn’t sit still long enough for that. working out? no, he does that every day. 

just as you were about to give up all hope, you stumbled upon your box of toys Bakugou had used the other night on you. all sorts of fun things were in there and each one got plenty of use. while he prided himself on being more than enough to satisfy you, he was more than happy to experiment and have fun.

hmm, experiment? 

that one thought sent you spiraling. you wouldn’t be able to get any new toys, and a new sex position was boring enough. a new kink needed to be experimented with. it was backbreaking work to get Bakugou to listen to you in the bedroom, but you knew with the right tools, combined with his frustration, it just might work. 

your plan was thankfully enacted only a few short hours later. Bakugou, finishing a shower, had exited the bedroom with nothing but a towel slung low over his hips, his happy trail curly and glistening from the water on his body. you had found your favorite orange lingerie, the color similar to his hero costume, lacy in all the right places and hugging your frame deliciously. 

“well, well, well, what do we have here?” you heard his husky voice approach you, tracing his finger appreciatively over the fabric.

“what we have here is a stress reliever. i know you’ve been anxious about being pent up in here. so have i, so i figured we might have a little bit of fun tonight, try something new.”

you stood up slowly, the fabric rustling as you reached up to cup his face in your hand, bringing your lips together in a soft kiss. you began backing him up to the bed until his knees hit the mattress and he sat down with a soft thud. you followed his body, pushing him back until he was flat on his back, crawling over him, feeling the hardness of his cock through the towel that was dangerously close to falling off.

you positioned yourself so you were level with his eyes, leaning down to ghost your lips over his ear, whispering, “do you remember our safe word?”

he nodded in response, too lost on the way you felt on top of him.

“good, because you’re going to need it.”

you got up without warning, reaching towards the bottom of the bed where you pulled out your toys, skimming your fingers over the various rubber and plastic figures, hand settling on a bottle of lube.

“what are you up to?” he asked, unusually meek sounding.

“do you trust me?”

“yes,” he responded instantly, breath hitched as he watched you continue to rummage around the box, pulling out both the blindfold and a long forgotten strap on, something that you had kept hidden for quite some time and never had the chance to use it. but tonight, tonight you would ravish your boyfriend.

you only nodded out in response as you brought the items over, dropping them on the bed unceremoniously. 

“sit up,” you commanded, crooking a finger towards Bakugou.

he obliged without question, though his face looked like he had a thousand he wanted to ask. you pulled the blindfold slowly over his eyes, running your fingers up through his hair as you straddled him, effectively removing the towel from his waist, kissing his lips, his cheeks, his neck, biting and sucking as you went along.

Bakugou was unusually quiet, only breathing heavily. you placed a hand over his heart and felt that it was racing.

“are you okay? do you want me to stop?”

“fuck no. i mean, yes, shit, i’m okay,” he answered.

you only hummed in response, continuing your worship of his body, feeling the way his pulse jumped as you bit down on a sensitive point on his neck. you pushed him back down again on the bed, this time adjusting him so his head was on a pillow and his body was fully laying down. when he was fully settled, you adjusted yourself so you were straddling his head, lingerie pulled to the side and cunt dripping in anticipation of what was about to go down.

“i need to hear you beg,” you stated simply, looking down to see his reaction.

“i think i should be telling you that,” he retorted with a cheeky grin.

“oh no sweetheart. i can take care of myself better than you, i think.”

with that statement in mind, one of your hands found its way to your cunt, experimentally flicking your aching bud, collecting the juices and going back in, harsher this time. your whines and the sloshing sounds of your pussy were all the indication Bakugou needed to know what you were doing. he brought one hand up to attempt to bring you down but you swatted it away, continuing to tease him as you teased yourself.

“no touching. not until i hear you beg.”

you whined at the feeling of your own fingers against your clit, rocking yourself to create more friction.

when Bakugou scoffed and tried again, you slapped his face, hard.

“i said beg.”

if you were able to see Bakugou’s eyes, you would’ve known that his pupils were blown wide with lust and desire. while he often wanted, no needed, to take control, this was nice, he had to admit.

“yes, mistress. please let me taste you, please,” you heard him, a whiney undertone to his sultry tone.

you immediately lowered yourself onto his face, murmuring how good of a boy he was as you felt his tongue lick up all your slick. his hands came experimentally up to your waist, wanting to see if you would swat him away, but when you only encouraged him, he gripped tighter, almost as if you were his anchor.

you continued to ride his face, praising him and yelping his name, getting lost in your own high. with one swift slap to your ass, he commanded you to cum and you did, leaking all over his face. he licked up every inch, hungry as a dog for your essence.

when you came down from your high, you tutted, upset at how he flipped the situation around so easily. you removed yourself from his face as he pulled off the blindfold, hair wild from you grabbing it.

“get on all fours,” you commanded, eyes blazing fiercely in the dim light from the bathroom that he forgot to turn off.

“what? why?”

“if you want to act like a dog, barking out commands, acting like you’re starving for my pussy, then you’ll get fucked like a dog. on all fours, now.”

when he didn’t comply immediately, you yanked his body to the edge of the bed, flipping his body over and sticking his ass in the air. Bakugou was too dumbfounded to realize what was going on, not even realizing that you had the strength to manhandle him, but before he could regain his composure, he felt something warm and sticky on his asshole.

you had warmed up the lube in your fingers around his ass, watching as the hole puckered around nothing. slowly, you inserted one finger, watching for signs of pain, but all you saw was a confused yet extremely pleased face. experimentally, you crooked the finger around, in and out, watching as Bakugou’s breath quickened and his hands fisted the sheets.

you pulled your finger out, smirking as he whined at the loss of your digit but quickly realized what was coming as you began inserting two fingers back into his fluttering hole. he gritted his teeth at the intrusive feeling but quickly relaxed as you continued to pump in and out of him, scissoring to loosen him up, applying more lube to keep things safe and pleasurable.

once you were satisfied with your work, you removed your fingers, wiping them haphazardly on the sheets, not caring. right now, you were too excited about what you were going to do to your boyfriend. he looked so innocent, eyes boring pleadingly into your own. you were so used to being dominated, tossed around like a ragdoll, and though you never really complained because Bakugou always took care of you, it was an exhilarating feeling to be in control of someone usually so stubborn and hard headed.  

you lubed up the strap on, warming it up in your hands. it felt awkward on your body, but you took a few experimental thrusts in the air and got the hang of it quite quickly. 

“hurry up already and fuck me,” Bakugou half pleaded half demanded.

without hesitation, you raised your palm and smacked his ass, hearing him hiss in both pain and pleasure.

“you’ll get fucked, don’t you worry.”

slowly, you lined the tip up to his ass, watching as he shook it in the air, clearly desperate for some sort of friction. you pushed the tip towards his waiting hole, feeling immediate resistance.

“relax baby. i’ll take care of you, i promise.”

you continued to push, making sure to take your time, until you felt the strap on bottom out, sinking into his gaping hole. amazement crossed your face as you watched the fake dick slide in and out of him, as you watched Bakugou clench up and then release all the tension in his body. soft whines and pants were heard from your boyfriend and you watched as he began thrusting himself back on your cock.

“i’ll go faster if i hear you beg,” you cooed, tracing your fingers down his back and over the curve of his ass, smacking it once more and then soothingly rubbing circles over the now red skin.

“fu-ugh, nnh please fuck me. please fuck me so hard (y/n), mistress, ma’am, fuck, i’ll call you whatever, just fuck me.”

you arched your brows in shock over hearing your boyfriend beg so freely, but who were you to deny a pretty man with a pretty ass? picking up your pace, you began slamming into Bakugou again, telling him how good he was doing, how pretty he was, how good he felt.

he seemed to appreciate the words, whining and stuttering through his emotions, too caught up in his own pleasure to be able to string coherent sentences together. you continued to thrust in and out, building up a sweat but enjoying the sounds and sights of your boyfriend being demolished to even really notice. you felt him tense up, his whines getting louder, and with a cry, he came, sticky ropes of cum shooting out onto the sheets. he collapsed on the bed not soon after, too spent to even care about laying in his own load.

you carefully pulled out, watching as his hole puckered and clenched around the sudden emptiness. you removed the strap on, throwing it on the floor and crawling onto your boyfriend, laying your slick body on his own.

“how was that?” you asked, hopeful yet concerned.

“s’fucking good,” he mumbled back, still reeling from what had just happened.

once he gained his breath back and his senses, you clambered off of him and plopped down, too tired to care. he got on all fours and slowly climbed over to you, pulling you into a searing kiss, murmuring his thanks against your lips.

when he pulled away, you saw the familiar twinkle in his eyes that meant he was up to no good. you gulped in anticipation, waiting with baited breath for what he was about to say.

“you know princess, you really surprised me tonight. hell, i even surprised myself. but tomorrow, tomorrow i will get back at you.” 

you looked up at him through hooded lids, lashes batting innocently as you pondered what he had in store.

“i know you’ve asked before if we could try some riskier kinks. i’ve been hesitant because i wasn’t sure you could handle it, but after tonight, i know better. you showed me tonight that i belonged to you,” he started, chuckling at the thought,” but tomorrow, i’ll carve my fucking name into your back, just so you’ll know that you really belong to me.”

your pussy clenched immediately at the thought, eyes open wide at his suggestion. sure, you had fantasized about, er, riskier kinks but never had you thought he would agree. maybe, you thought, maybe this quarantine won’t be such a bad thing.

TAGS: @redbeanteax​ @softforshigi​

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[cno-inbminor]

domus - pt. 3 (final)

a/n: it’s done. oh god it’s done. it’s like 2AM so it’s unedited for now, but i’ll make edits in the morning. i also apologize in advance for the slightly rushed ending fas;elifjac you will need to read parts 1 and 2 (linked below) for context!

plot: when kuroo tetsuro drops the hard-hitting truth that he’s fallen out of love with you, your first thought is to escape. but you find comfort in the least likely person: akaashi keiji, a boy you had grown up with out of forced family interactions, who always seemed so distant from you. yet you probably knew more about him than anyone else.

characters: fem!reader, ex-bf!kuroo, & family friend!akaashi

wc: ~8k

genre/warnings: angst with teaspoons of fluff; mentions of alcohol and getting drunk

pt. 1 | pt. 2

The grey sheets fail to startle you this time around, granted that it’s been about four days since you first arrived. It’s the constriction of cotton around your body that wakes you up on this Tuesday morning, and your brain can’t fathom why your loose pajamas have suddenly become so uncomfortable. But then the threads tickle the skin of your arms, your legs feel the slight scrape of denim, and your toes have trouble wiggling around due to the constraint of…socks.

Why are you wearing socks to sleep?

Much to your body’s protest, you stumble out of Keiji’s comfortable sheets (note to self: ask him where he got them from) and into the reflection of the body-length mirror in his room. Your vision blurs when all the colors of the rainbow come into place, exploding into a million stars as you lose a bit of your balance. Thankfully, your hand finds purchase against the wall and allows you to regain some stability. It only takes a few seconds, overwhelmingly agonizing as they are, before you can properly assess your current state.

Yesterday’s outfit glares back at you, though much more mussed and wrinkled than you last saw it. Similarly, your hair is in a disarray, hands subconsciously trying to take out any tangles while you can. Knowing the state of cleanliness that Keiji keeps his space in, you feel a wave of regret wash over you for having slept in his bed in air-polluted clothes that must have caught who knows how many germs. Immediately, you move to your suitcase to find something to change into, discarding your current outfit into a large plastic bag that acted as your nomadic hamper. As soon as you’re done, you begin to gather up all the layers of Keiji’s bed, fitted sheet and all, and leaving them on top of the mattress in separate piles by how they should be washed. But while you gather the first bundle into your arms, you take a quick look at the clock, slightly flabbergasted that it’s only a little past 6AM.

In your somewhat frantic attempt to atone for your sins against Keiji’s abode, you failed to notice the lack of sun rays peeking from behind the curtains. And much like you’ve done every day since you showed up, you pull the material back and greet the nostalgic view of Tokyo once more.

But serenity doesn’t come to you. In fact, your heart seems to be weighed down by an unknown anchor. Instinctively, your arms come up to hug yourself slightly, knowing that it’s a feeble attempt at best. The weight gradually mixes with a grasp of suffocation and the feeling closes around your throat. Immediately, you seek a source of fresh air, eyes catching a handle on the window that you somehow missed all these days. This means that Keiji has two separate doors to the balcony, including the one in the living room, and you do your best to quickly yet quietly slide the pane open. As soon as there’s enough space for you to slide through, you practically bound out and lean yourself over the rail of the balcony, lungs taking in deep breaths of oxygen.

Below you, the city has already begun to awaken, pedestrians the size of ants seemingly crawling their away down the street. Faint car honks echo through the city, the occasional train horn blaring louder than the rest. These are sights and sounds you find familiar, and somehow, the unease in your chest settles. Everything seems okay again, and you wonder why it crept up on you so suddenly.

The realization creeps through your veins as you drink in the sight of the SkyTree: you’re not quite ready to leave yet. You don’t think you’re ready to hop on a plane back to Sapporo and back to the apartment that you and Tetsuro spent the last few years building together. Every corner, every nook and cranny of that unit was filled with memories upon memories, mostly good and some bad. And even if you want to think back on them, to be able to look at them and recall the moments fondly, you know that Tetsuro’s unfortunate confession would immediately overshadow all of it. They would just leave you in the same pool of broken bitterness that you originally escaped from.

You still haven’t texted him.

He must be worried sick, you think as your feet drag you back inside and grab your device from the nightstand. You check through your notifications as you step out onto the balcony again, and after a few minutes, your thumb hovers over his conversation thread. A stinging pain courses through your system at the nickname you have set for his contact, and you hate it. You hate how fresh it still feels, completely and utterly frustrated at yourself that part of you still hasn’t let go of him. Why couldn’t you be stronger than this?

But despite your distress, you tap on it and hesitate above the keyboard, trying to think of the right words. Only a few come to your mind, and before you can convince yourself to back out (because you owed him at least this much), your thumbs type out two words and hit the send button, immediately locking it afterwards and sliding it into the pocket of your gym shorts. Out of sight, out of mind, right? He wanted a text of confirmation, you give him a text. That’s all you would allow yourself without crumbling again, and you were trying to put all the Band-aids you could on it.

Undoubtedly, Keiji’s presence helps. It’s easy to not think about Tetsuro when you’re around him, busying yourself with either work emails or recipes that you want to try out. The former doesn’t mind being a guinea pig, as he so kindly put it on Sunday. In fact, he handed you a cookbook from his shelf that had some recipes tabbed with sticky notes, pointing out the ones he thought you might enjoy. Surprisingly, they were all very appealing and to your taste, and part of you wonders if it’s just a mild coincidence. So far, you haven’t messed anything up, and Keiji always finishes his portion with slightly veiled enthusiasm. He knew how much you enjoyed cooking and baking for others, evidence presented by the years of instances when you stopped at their house to drop off your newest creations – so whether or not his compliments were genuine, you took it.

What you don’t know is the number of knowing glances throughout middle and high school that Keiji’s mother would give him as he munched on your edible gifts, pretending to seem unfazed though his eyes adopted a slight twinkle as he ate his fair share. If she could see him now, she’d notice the same shine in them.

Part of you itches to see if Tetsuro read your text message, if he will bother responding. The phone burns in your pocket, but you decide against it, letting it scorch against your thigh as you lean against the rail and watch the sky grow brighter. You miss the carefree mornings like these when you aren’t in a rush to leave the apartment. All that’s really on your mind now is what to make for breakfast, mentally running through all the ingredients that Keiji has.

Today seems like a good day for pancakes.

-

Keiji’s eyes snap open when his phone goes off, mentally groaning when he realized he forgot to turn off the daily alarm he usually sets for going into work. Now that he’s spending a few days at home, there’s been no need to get up so early. He left it on yesterday since they had that early ride on the bullet train, but with all the events that happened last night, he simply forgot.

Keiji sees that his bedroom door remains closed and believes you’re still asleep. But when he stands up to stretch and looks out his balcony windows, he catches a glimpse of your figure through the gap in the curtains. The breeze from the AC slightly causes them to flutter, giving him a better view as he steps around the couch to get a better angle. You look pensive and somewhat defeated, staring out into the open space as the wind from the heights tousles your hair. He wonders if you’ve taken the initiative to let Tetsuro know if you were okay.

At this thought, his eyes are drawn the phone on his coffee table, staring for a few seconds and calculating to see if this is a good idea. Unable to find any issues with it, he steps back to reach for the device. On the off-chance that you did text him, he doubts that you told your boyfriend where you’re staying. Keiji knows that Tetsuro would be worried regardless and perhaps might gain some comfort from knowing that you were staying with a friend. So before he can chicken out, he taps a short text, ignoring the fact that it’s been months since the two had last spoken outside of the group chat Koutaro created for the three of them and Tsukishima.      

The lack of an immediate reply indicates that the former Nekoma captain is either still asleep or busy with his residency. Keiji casts one last look at you, noticing that you haven’t moved in the last few minutes. It seems that you’ll be there for a while and lost in your thoughts. There were only a few times in his life when he had witnessed this faraway look of yours, knowing it was better to leave you alone than to try and rip you out of the reverie. Perhaps he’ll take a chance with breakfast today, a small repayment for the onigiri and juice boxes you bought him on the train.

He thinks you might enjoy having some pancakes.

-

The deafening creak and slide of plastic ripping away from its rubber suction startles you. Much like you did when Keiji first scared you on Saturday morning, you turn to the source of fright with a hand over your pounding heart, staring in disbelief as said man walks out with a tray of food. Though this time, much to your amusement, he looks rather apologetic. The humor quickly morphs into guilt as you notice the two plates of pancakes – just how long had you been standing out here?

In a few steps, you meet him and silently take the tray from his hands, allowing him to close the balcony door. There’s no good place to put it besides the ground, and when Keiji sits next to it – legs stretched out – with his back against the plexiglass, you demurely mimic his movements on the other side of the tray. Without a word, Keiji places his portion onto his lap and grabs his own set of fork and knife. You simply stare at him until he gestures for you to do the same, returning the small smile he gives you. Both of you say your thanks before digging in, and you can’t help but notice how Keiji has drizzled just the right amount of syrup and in the way that you like it.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you,” you apologize after a few bites in. Despite how fluffy and soft they are, the pancakes have a hard time going down your throat. Keiji had also gone through the trouble of making some freshly squeezed orange juice, yet the sip of the beverage doesn’t help much.

“It’s the least I could do after yesterday,” he says softly, and his eyes let you know he really didn’t mind. “Really, you’ve been cooking everything else. I saw a chance and took it.”

“But still—”

“I was more than happy to do it,” Keiji interjects. “It’s my way of saying thanks.”

“…has anyone ever told you that you’re too kind sometimes?” It’s easier to swallow now.

“Bokuto-san has mentioned it a few times,” he replies quickly, staring at you before you both burst out laughing.

From there, conversation flows more smoothly, topics ranging from the MSBY practice session yesterday to what mangas he’s been editing. The pancakes quickly disappear as the sun beams through the clouds, gradually heating up the earth until it was becoming somewhat unbearable in the heat. Keiji sports a light sheen of sweat by the time you two decide it’s wise to go back inside. He takes the tray before you can even think of grabbing it, ushering you to go ahead and shower first while he washes the dishes. As a sign of thanks, you give an affectionate squeeze around his upper arm as you walk past him.

Keiji pretends that his skin isn’t burning from the touch.

Right as he’s placing everything onto the drying rack, his phone rings from the pocket of his sweatpants. He’s not entirely surprised when Kuroo’s name flashes on the screen – after his text, he figured your boyfriend would either message back with lots of question marks or simply call to demand answers. A quick exhale leaves his lungs as he hits the green button and brings the device to his ear.

“Hi Kuroo-san.”

“What do you mean ‘she’s staying with me’?”

Keiji glances in the direction of the bathroom and hears the shower still running. Chances of you eavesdropping or overhearing would be low.

“It’s exactly what I mean. She’s staying with me for the time being.”

“Why you?”

“Honestly, that’s a good question.”

“…wait, so you didn’t know she was coming?”

“She called me when she was at the airport,” Keiji sighs, leaning back against the sink to keep a lookout on the bathroom. “I was just as surprised as you are.”

“You’ve been treating her okay?”

“Of course, what do you take me for?”

“Sorry, that’s not what I meant,” Kuroo groans. “I only have about 10 minutes left in my break. How’s she doing?”

“As well as someone can do when their significant other suddenly tells them they’re not in love with them anymore.”

The silence is deafening over the phone. Keiji didn’t really mean to slip up right then and there, but he couldn’t help the simmering anger rising in his stomach.

“…I’m guessing she told you then.”

“Just last night. I asked when she got here, but she wasn’t in the mood to talk about it. We went to see Bokuto-san yesterday.”

“That would explain the weird text I got from him last night. Did it help?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“That’s good then,” Kuroo sighs into the speaker, rubbing his temple with his free hand. “Thank you for taking care of her.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Keiji replies. “Though if you don’t mind me asking…how did it happen?”

“I don’t have a lot of time left so I’ll make it quick. It just – I don’t know, it kinda hit me one morning. I was wondering why I stopped feeling like I needed to get home as soon as possible. Stopped asking for details about her day, or at least nothing more than how it was. I’d forget half the things she was telling me whenever she talked about her job. It was nice coming home to someone after a long shift, but I just…it didn’t feel all that special knowing she was the one waiting for me. I love her like a best friend, just not romantically anymore. She doesn’t deserve to get dragged along because I can’t speak up about my feelings, so I told her. You understand, right?”

Immediately, Keiji wants to say no. No, he doesn’t get it. It’s nearly unfathomable to him that Tetsuro can just slowly stop caring about the things that were important to you. He imagines your figure curled up in bed, anxiously waiting for your boyfriend to come home safely. He imagines you greeting Tetsuro happily, blissfully unaware that the man only kissed your cheek in greeting as a force of habit.

He imagines your face falling little by little as Tetsuro explains himself, your guard failing to mask the anguish you were feeling, and it pains him. Yet his torment at the thought could only be a small fraction of what you experienced – neither was this the time to be heavily biased.

“I don’t have any say in the matter,” Keiji begins and tries to keep his voice as level as possible. “But you know she’s not going to give in to your terms, right?”

“I know it’s not exactly sensible, but I’m trying—”

“Do you really think she’d be happy knowing that?” He nearly hisses into the phone, simply fed up with Kuroo’s stubbornness. “You’ve just told her you don’t love her anymore, insinuating that you’d be happier without her – knowing how much she loves you, do you really think she’d let you force yourself to try for her sake? You know how selfless she is!”

“And I’m trying to give her a chance to be selfish for once – this is on me, and I could at least try! I loved her once, who says I couldn’t love her again? I’ll give her all the time she needs and—"

“If you really cared about her, you would let her go!”

“It’s not that simple!”

Keiji has never wanted to punch someone so bad in his life. “Don’t you understand it’d be nothing but torture for her? Every day, hanging onto some flimsy hope that everything will go back to the way it used to be? There’s a high chance that you’d never feel that way again, so you’re going to let her waste all that time on you? That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

Tetsuro knows Keiji’s right. He knows, and he loathes it. His own fear of drastic change caused him to spill all those empty promises to you, simply refusing to acknowledge that his own selfish desires were the demons speaking.

“…I’m glad you’re the one she’s staying with. It’s better than being alone in a hotel for a week.”

“You’re digressing.”

“Let her go, huh?”

“Like I said, if you really cared, then yes. Anything she asks of you, go with it. It’s the least you could do.”

“…I gotta go, my break’s up. Thanks, Akaashi.”

Keiji isn’t doing it for him. “Bye, Kuroo-san.”

Beep.

-

“You cannot leave your room until I let you!”

“(Y/n), what—”

“I need to get groceries and what I’m making is gonna take a really long time, but I’ve been dying to try it and this is the perfect time! I wanna surprise you though.”

“You don’t need to surprise me—”

Keiji’s feet are planted in the entrance of his bedroom door, heels digging into the hardwood as much as they can. After he came out of his shower and grabbed a cup of coffee from the kitchen, you were pushing him towards his room, words spilling from your lips a mile a minute.

“Please?” You nearly pout when Keiji turns to get a good look at your face. “You said you need to work anyways, right? I’d be much less of a bother if I was doing something else.”

“You know I don’t mind you being in the same room,” he says gently, hoping that he never said anything that could’ve insinuated your presence wasn’t welcome wherever he was. “Company is nice.”

“We have tomorrow for that, it’s just this one time. Plus, I’m washing the bed and the sheets are still in the dryer.”

“You didn’t have to do that – hey, what if I need to go to the bathroom?”

“You have to promise not to peek!”

“(Y/n)—”

“Pinky promise, right now!” You demand, sticking out a pinky in between the two of you. Keiji pretends to be annoyed at your antics, but he can’t help but smile as your two pinkies link together and thumbs come up for a stamp.    

“What if I need to get something to drink?”

“Just let me know and I’ll bring it to you. And no peeking!”

“As I promised, yes.”

“Don’t miss me too much,” you tease, and Keiji can only watch a little despondently as you disappear out the front door. He isn’t looking forward to the same sight that’ll occur in three days, though that time you’ll be lugging a suitcase behind you and potentially leaving for good.

Instantly, the apartment feels too empty. Everything is too quiet again, reminding him why he has a difficult relationship with working from home. Part of him is so used to the hustle and bustle of the manga company that the silence in an empty home somehow feels wrong. And now that some liveliness has been thrown into the mix, painting his abode with splashes of gentle hues, the void feels even more foreign.

You’ll be back within an hour. He just has to bear with it for that short time frame – there’s a decent pile of work waiting for him anyways.

It might be a good time to start practicing being alone again as well.

-

With determination, Keiji throws himself into his work, only stopping every couple of hours to lean back into his chair and rub his eyes. His little energy bursts come in various forms: when you first came back and greeted, “I’m home!” through his bedroom door, whenever you come in to refill his cup of water, when you come in with two plates of sandwiches          during lunch time, and when you bring him some tea as a change of pace in the afternoon. Every gesture is strongly appreciated, and he wishes he could help you in the kitchen.

(He tries to ignore how domestic everything feels. It’s a sensation he finds himself getting drunk on, the bliss encasing his nerves with a pleasant numbness.)

Keiji broadcasts a bit of his work to you, talking you through his process and the things he looks out for when editing. With you, he doesn’t have to worry about leaking spoilers – in fact, you look more enraptured with his set-up than anything. He enjoys the awe and childlike wonder that cloud your face. It’s a far cry from the ruminative expression from this morning, and Keiji hopes that he’ll never have to see that face again.

Always a man of his word, he stays in his bedroom while you finish making dinner. Based on the smell and distinct sound of something being seared in a hot pan, Keiji gathers there’s meat involved. Earlier, his food processor had been going as well, though he couldn’t exactly place why it sounded like you were beating something against the counter. You might have been butchering something, meaning there was meat involved. But he knows his curiosity will be pleasantly sated and bides his time with mindless YouTube videos.

There’s a quiet knock on his door before it opens, revealing your slightly exhausted frame. Concern washes over him as his eyes frantically assess your current state, flitting around until he spots where your hand seems to be cradling the other. It could only mean one of two possible scenarios, and without a word, he grabs the medicine box from his closet in search of the burn ointment. You begin to try and explain what happened, but before you can even say that you accidentally touched one of racks in the oven with the back of your wrist, you spot the little tube between Keiji’s fingers and fall silent. His eyebrows furrow as he approaches you, standing no more than a couple of centimeters away from you as he finds the burn and begins to apply the balm.

“You should’ve let me help,” he says quietly, regret laced through the words. His lithe fingers hesitate over the mark, hoping that the salve was applied quickly enough to prevent any potential blistering.

“This is nothing,” you try to soothe him. “I was just lost in thought and didn’t realize that my arm was getting a little too close. What matters most is that I still saved the dinner.”

Keiji shakes his head and releases his hold. “That’s not the most important at all. Are you sure there isn’t anything I can help you with?”

“You can help me by waiting here for another 15 minutes until I tell you to come out.”

“You know that’s not—”

“Keiji,” you firmly interject. Your hands grasp one of his, clenching around them to let him know it was okay. The small burn was no one’s fault but yours, and there was no need for him to feel guilty. “I’m okay, really. All the hard parts are over now, I just need to let something cool down and set up the table.”

The man before you releases a defeated sigh and you let go of his hand. Instantly, he misses the warmth and subconsciously flexes his hand in some strange attempt to retain the heat running through his fingers. “Call for me if you need any help, okay?”

“Of course.”

Once more, you exit his room and close the door behind you. He takes this time to stand by and stare out his balcony doors, watching the sun slowly sink below the horizon. A warm, orange glow fills his room as Keiji turns to look at his freshly washed bed, remembering the way you had scuttled in with an armful of linen and batted him away repeatedly from trying to help. He pictures the way you would curl up in sleep, imagining once again just how nice it would be to wake up together with the Tokyo sunrise.

“Dinner’s ready,” your voice calls out from behind him, stealing him away from his daydream. He makes his way around the bed to meet you where you demand him to close his eyes. The skeptical look causes you to laugh as you continue to goad him.

“I’ll make sure you don’t bump into anything, promise.”

“If I so much as nudge a table with my big toe, I will kick you out.”

“So dramatic,” you scoff and roll your eyes. “Come on, please?”

Giving in to your requests seems second nature now, he realizes as his eyes slip shut, relying on nothing but the gentle hold you have on his hands and the sound of your voice. You do well in warning him about any possibility he might bump into something and Keiji’s trust in you solidifies – hell, they could be on the outskirts of an exploding volcano and he’d let you drag him around with a blindfold on. He can feel the nervousness rolling off you as you sit him down in his chair, hurriedly taking the seat across from him and adjusting yourself. “Okay, you can open your eyes.”

Keiji has to blink a few times to refocus his vision and chooses to ignore the way your teeth gnaw on your bottom lip for the plate in front of him. Two slices of beef wellington sit elegantly on the white porcelain, a glass of red wine in the top corner, and a set of a knife and fork on opposite sides. It looks straight out of a cookbook and he loves that you were right – he would be pleasantly surprised, and your hard work would certainly pay off.

But what makes the smile on his face form is the memory of you two discussing different cooking shows on the walk home from school one evening. You had asked him out of the blue if he watched anything cooking-related, and when he had listed some of the channels he watched from time to time, you rattled off a list of things you wanted to try making some day but never could with time constraints. Beef wellington had been one of those items, as well as a croquembouche, Totoro macarons, and others.

“Did you finally get to live out your Great British Bake Off dreams with the puff pastry?” Keiji jokes, lifting his utensils and beginning to cut through the meat. At his question, he realizes you must’ve been pounding out the slab of butter to be used when making puff pastry from scratch.

“That, and try to channel Gordon Ramsay for everything else,” you chuckle and watch him carefully as he chews on his first bite.

“This is really good, holy shit,” he murmurs and relief floods your system. “Are you sure this is your first time making it?”

“Yep!”

“I’m gonna have to get seconds later,” Keiji says, still slightly suspended in disbelief. You’re practically shaking in your seat from how well received the dish is.

“Try to save some room for the dessert wine later.”

“Oh, you bought some?”

“Yeah, they had the brand we like at the supermarket.”

“What’s the occasion?”

You ponder on that for a bit, trying to find the right words for it. What he didn’t know was that you caught the last half of his conversation on the phone with Tetsuro. At first, you felt a flare of anger when you put the pieces together and realized that Keiji had ratted out your location, almost storming out of the bathroom to give him a piece of your mind. But when you heard him defend and stand up for you, you faltered, hand hovering over the doorknob. Once again, he was holding your best interests at heart and risking potentially fraying his friendship with Tetsuro for you. It was exactly the kind of support you needed in that moment.

So you do what you’ve always done to show gratitude when it comes to Keiji: make something edible for him. In middle and high school, you felt that food was the least awkward thing you could give to him if he did something for you, considering that you felt you two weren’t very close. Permanent gifts were a touch too intimate, and you could always hide the fact that you were gifting him something under the pretense of wanting to give it to his mother instead. Any batch of cookies, muffins, palmiers, or pastries were mainly meant for him, saying thanks for walking home with you, driving you home, entertaining you during get-togethers, letting you win in Monopoly for once, and many more. That was something you originally planned to take to your grave since you figured that Keiji would find it weird or disturbing, but now…now seemed okay.

Just not this exact moment.

“To a new beginning,” you decide and lift up your glass, angling it towards him for cheers.

“To a new beginning,” he echoes. Keiji clinks his glass against you and you both take a sip, his eyes glimmering over the rim.

-

You are very tipsy. Borderline drunk. You honestly can’t remember the last time you got wine drunk, but somehow you just couldn’t stop drinking. If you had to give your best estimate, about 70% of the red wine had been consumed by you. And now that the dessert wine was open, you were nearing 60% of that as well.

Keiji sits on the opposite side of the couch from you, indulging you by letting you watch Ouran High School Host Club through some streaming service on his TV. It had been ages since he last saw anything from it, though he mainly focuses on your how far your inebriation is getting ahead of you. An hour ago, he had placed a cup of water by your side, though there was still half of it left. He wonders if he should be cutting you off soon, but you look too carefree and happy. And from experience, he knows that you could easily walk in a straight line if told to. It was an uncanny ability that you possessed, one that was somewhat showcased when you and Tetsuro showed up at a house party in college he just happened to also attend. Smashed overexaggerated your drunken state at the time, but the glossy look in your eyes now was very similar to that incident all those years ago.

The laugh that erupts from your chest as a result of Haruhi’s deadpan humor is slurred and lasts a little too long to be considered normal. Keiji feels his chest ease up when you reach for the water this time instead of the alcohol and chug it all down. He freezes when you turn towards him with a lazy smile spread across your face, but it turns into a pout when you hand him the now empty mug.

“Keiji-kun,” you mumble. “Please gimme more water?”

“You can’t get it yourself?” He taunts, chuckling when your pout intensifies.

“I don’t wanna acci-acc-accid-accidentally break the mug. You brought it from your parents’, right? I used this one all the time back then.”

“Mmm,” he hums, prying the porcelain from your hands and standing to comply with your request.

Not even a minute passes after he returns when you clumsily shift closer to him. He doesn’t even have to time to internally gasp when you lay down on your back and plop your head onto his thighs, his arms now slightly suspended in the air because he honestly has no idea what to do with them. The best he can come up with is resting one arm on the back of the couch, the other tentatively placed on top of your head. He fights the need to run his fingers through your hair, although knowing it would bring you some comfort as the world begins to blur. It takes everything in him to not look down, but he’s not absorbing anything from the anime. The sounds fall short to the pounding in his ears, and the only time he can remember being this nervous was their last volleyball match during Nationals.

“Thank you, Keiji.”

“Hm? For what?”

“…sticking up for me to Tetsu.”

“…didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s rude to eavesdrop?” Keiji attempts to digress, pinching the shell of your ear.

“It hurts!” You cry out, overstating the pain you felt. In his defense, he barely put any force behind it. “I just wanted to say thank you, ‘s all.”

“It was nothing, I—”

“You really think we’re friends?”

Keiji frowns. “I said that before, didn’t I? Did you ever think we weren’t?”

“Honestly…no, I didn’t,” you confess. It’ll be a miracle if you remember any of this tomorrow morning. “You always seemed so far away…there were a few times when I thought you maybe hated me, only tolerated me because you’d never hear the end of it from your mom if she ever caught you being mean to me. I mean, if you ever think about it…you never talked about yourself, y’know?”

Keiji pauses the TV, throwing the apartment into complete silence. He only hears your shaky breathing and the AC running.

“Anything I ever heard about you was from your mom because she’d tell my mom, and then my mom would gossip,” you continue, chuckling bitterly at the end. “I knew you, but did I really know you? It felt so weird, walking by you in school and knowing what you were struggling with. But then you’d just smile at me like nothing was wrong and that hurt.”

He’s been staring at the same frame for the last minute or so and feels more and more awful with every word that leaves your lips. Somehow it’s everything he’s wanted to hear for years, but it’s also so bittersweet and tragic. But the more important matter currently at hand is the sound of your sniffles. Oh god, are you crying? Keiji finally has a reason to look at you now, studying how a forearm is strewn across your eyes – but he can see the tear tracks and feel the dampness on his sweatpants as they slide down your face. He attempts to move the limb away but you resist as much as you can, though it doesn’t take much. Keiji reaches over and plucks out a tissue to help clean you up, trying to placate both you and the semblance of a heartbreak.

“I was always worried that you were just – hic – hiding your emotions, bottling them up inside until it’d burst one day. But then I had to – hic -- remind myself that you had other close friends to confide in. With how much you got along with your teammates, I figured they’d keep an eye on you…but I still worried a lot. I hoped that you’d finally open up during our family dinners someday. Instead, it took a break-up and me getting drunk.”

He’s frozen when you lift your hand to his face, the tips of your fingers barely ghosting over his jawline. The anguish in your eyes is palpable; he can’t help but broaden the contact, leaning into your palm until it’s cradling his cheek while maintaining eye contact with you.

“You were okay, right?” You whisper. “You could talk to Koutaro? Or Akinori?”

Keiji’s gaze softens considerably. He analyzes the drooping of your eyelids, how they fight to stay open until you receive a desirable answer from him. It’s incredibly touching how much you wanted to reach out to him during all those years, waiting, wishing, hoping. You were right – he did expose some of his more vulnerable moments to his teammates. But that doesn’t mean he didn’t have days where he ached to call you and spill every negative emotion he was feeling.

“I was okay, I promise,” Keiji reassures you, giving in to comb through your hair. “Thank you, (y/n), for caring about me.”

Your arm slowly drops from its hold and curls up against your chest. Even in your drunken state, you feel at peace, like the world has finally been lifted from your shoulders. It’s the answer that you’ve been silently searching for all this time, the unknown stewing and festering in the back of your mind.  

“I’m…glad…”

Keiji observes as you fall asleep and your breaths even out. With a heavy sigh, he gathers you into his arms bridal-style, hoping that the jostling doesn’t wake you up. Just like last night, he tucks you into bed, though not without leaving a gentle press of his lips against your temple.

The futon is cold and lonely. He’s really starting to not like it very much.

-

Wednesday and Thursday fly by so fast that he wonders if he accidentally time-traveled into Friday. Before he knows it, you’re rolling your suitcase out of his bedroom and towards his front door. As you slip on your shoes, your mind rattles off the locations of your important things: phone, wallet, keys, passport, driver’s license, and more. You turn back to look at your gracious host, shooting him your most appreciative smile.

“Thank you for everything this past week, Keiji. You don’t know how much it means to me, and I promise I’ll pay you back somehow.”

“I was happy to have you, and you’ve done more than you needed to in trying to pay me back. Are you sure you don’t need me to drop you off at the airport?”

“I couldn’t impose on you any longer,” you wave off. “An Uber will do just fine.”

“You’ll let me know when you’re there? When you get back to your apartment?”

“Yes, mother,” you poke fun at him, laughing at the way he rolls his eyes.

“I’ll let that one pass for now. Remember, you can call me anytime, okay? About anything, it doesn’t matter. Just don’t be a stranger.”

“I’ll remember that. See you around then?”

“See you around. Be safe.”

Neither of you make a move, not until Keiji steps forward to wrap you in a tight embrace. You do your best to return it ounce of ounce, bundling the back of his shirt in your fists. The last seven days have been pivotal to your friendship and you’ll never forget everything he’s done for you. Minutes pass, neither wanting to pull back until you can’t anymore, needing to meet the Uber outside. Keiji doesn’t have the heart to walk you all the way to the main entrance of the apartment complex, and you don’t force him.

Sitting in the airplane back to Sapporo is much less nerve-wracking than you originally predicted. You already have a list in mind of how to clear things out with Tetsuro, what steps you two need to take to make this split as seamless as possible. Various apartment listings had been bookmarked over the last couple of days, units big enough for just one person rather than two. The wound is still somewhat fresh, but scabs have already begun to form. You have Keiji to thank for in this process of healing.

As promised, you update him whenever you can, the final notice sent when you stand outside the door of your and Teturo’s apartment. It’s impossible for the nerves to not strike you now, even more so as you slowly unlock the door. The work shoes to the side of the doorway indicates that he is home, probably passed out in bed after a long shift. You quietly pad around the unit while putting some of your stuff away, though leaving the suitcase in the living room for now. When you step into the bedroom, Tetsuro is curled up on your side of the mattress, breathing deeply and soundly.

Two months ago, you would have peppered his face with kisses, demanding that he give you enough room to cuddle next to him. He would have opened his arms willingly, trapping you effectively in his new cage and you would’ve never thought of wanting to escape from him. So much has changed now, you think as you sit on the edge. You believe your action was subtle, but he stirs from his asleep, addressing the fact that you have returned. There is no screaming or crying, no tears or pleading. Instead, he shifts closer to give you an awkward hug around your waist while still laying on his side. It’s not the kind of hug that says, “Welcome home,” or “I miss you”, though.

It says, “I’m sorry,” and the placement of your hand on his embrace replies, “It’s okay.”

-

2 years later

Keiji likes this new routine with you.

For the last year and a half, you two schedule a weekly video call to catch up with each other. He likes this because he can watch you pull yourself together, adjust to the new life without Tetsuro. He gets to hear all the work stories that the other stopped bothering to pay attention to, no longer waiting for your next Snapchat or Instagram story update. Keiji’s at the friendship level now where he knows something has happened before you even post the photo. Sometimes you both cook together, finding a recipe that you’ll want to try. Other times you might just want to watch an episode or two of a show that’s caught both of your interests, swearing to each other that you’ll avoid spoilers or watching ahead.

It’s not the kind of relationship he truly wants with you, but it’s close enough and he’d be a fool to not take it.

Last week, you had to miss the video call, saying that your boss dropped a massive project onto your desk. You were going to be pulling overtime, and Keiji reminds you to take the necessary breaks. Texting is sparse and he feels the worry exponentially grow – were you pushing yourself too hard? Were you eating foods other than convenience store bentos and onigiris? Were you getting enough sleep at night?

His phone blares your custom ringtone from his kitchen counter and Keiji practically lunges for it, quickly picking up and holding the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Have you had dinner yet?”

What is this feeling of déjà vu?  “I was about to start cooking something up just now, why? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I was so busy, I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk last week. What about you?”

“I’m good, everything’s normal. Where are you?”

“I’m on my way home. By the way, I bought you a gift. They said it got delivered not a few minutes ago.”

“Really? That’s weird, the front desk usually notifies me as soon as they get it. But you shouldn’t have.”

“Consider it an early birthday present,” he hears and relishes in the warmth your words bring. “Why don’t you go downstairs and check?”

“I guess I can. Stay on the phone with me?”

“Of course.”

“What’d you get me?”

“What’s the point in me telling you when you’re about to open it in a few minutes?”

“Well,” Keiji starts and wrenches open the door. “I—”

He stops in his tracks, voice caught in his throat. You stand sheepishly before him, phone still at your ear as you drink in his stunned expression. Keiji doesn’t get taken by surprise very often, and you wish you had a camera for this moment. Koutaro would’ve loved it.

“Hey there,” he hears from you and through the speaker, a slight delay between the two phrases as his mind grasps at the situation.

“Why are you here?” He asks, hanging up and letting you in. Keiji hopes it doesn’t sound as rude as it might’ve come across. Like a gentleman, he takes your jacket and allows you enough space to take off your shoes.

“They’re doing renovations at my new apartment so I can’t really move in yet…I was wondering if I could stay here for a few days?”

Wait, new apartment? “Are you moving back to Tokyo?”

Excitement isn’t enough to describe the pure feeling of joy that runs through his veins when you nod. This is what you must have been so busy dealing with, packing everything up and scheduling a small moving van. All you have is your purse and a large suitcase, meaning that the rest of your belongings must still be en route.

“You can stay for as long as you need to. Take the bed, I can—”

“Actually, I lied. Not about moving to Tokyo,” you quickly defend when he seems to bristle at your words. “There aren’t any renovations and the rest of my stuff is coming tomorrow…but I purposely booked a ticket to get here today. You’re the first person I wanted to see.”

Not your parents, not some of your other friends. Him. You wanted to come and see him first before anyone else. The tone in your confession holds so much weight, a fondness in them that’s too intimate for someone who was just a friend. This was your way of trying to let him know that there was something more going on, but you were afraid that he would reject you. The ball was in his court now, and it was entirely up to him to decide how to proceed.

No one knows you better than him. No one is in tune or in sync with you as much as he is. It’s terrifyingly thrilling, but you want this. You want him.

So he takes one stride forward, cradles your face between his hands, and crashes his lips onto yours with a searing passion that’s been kept under lock and key for far, far too long. It’s perfect, you smile to yourself. But most of all…

It feels like home.

Bonus (a week later):

[Konoha]: hey, kou, is keiji dating anyone????

[Bokuto]: not that I know of??? why???

[Konoha]: apparently he just rsvp’d to my wedding and said he’s bringing a plus one??? i’m so confused, why wouldn’t he tell us??

[Bokuto]: did your fiancée see a name anywhere?

[Konoha]: hang on, she’s checking.

[Konoha]: oh shit.

[Konoha]: OH SHIT.

[Konoha]: HOLY FUCKING SHIT WHAT THE FUCK

[Bokuto]: WHO IS IT YOU BETTER TELL ME RIGHT NOW

[Konoha]: HE’S BRINGING FUCKING (Y/N) JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

[Bokuto]: ABOUT GODDAMN TIME

[Konoha]: YOU OWE ME 5000 YEN, PAY UP

#akaashi x reader #hq #haikyuu #kuroo x reader #akaashi x you #akaashi #akaashi keiji #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo tetsuro x reader #keiji x reader #haikyuu x reader #akaashi scenarios #kuroo scenarios #haikyuu scenarios #akaashi angst #akaashi fluff #haikyuu angst #hq angst #kuroo x you #akaashi x y/n #kuroo x y/n #i am going to sleep good night my loves!!!

[hanjizung]

𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣  𝕕𝕒𝕪   𝟛𝟘: 𝕄𝕚𝕣𝕣𝕠𝕣 𝕤𝕖𝕩.

Felix x Reader.

Word count: 1.7k

♡ Warnings ♡: Smut, secret relationship, orgasm denial (kinda), semi public, mirror sex.

【ｐｒｅｖｉｏｕｓ　ｄａｙ　||　ｎｅｘｔ　ｄａｙ】

【Ｋｉｎｋｔｏｂｅｒ　ｍａｓｔｅｒｌｉｓｔ】

You loved when Felix invited you to the practice room to watch him dance. He seemed so immersed in his movements, his expression serious as he concentrated on feeling the music and allowing his body to move to the rhythm. 

He was a passionate dancer, always had been. He even offered to show you the moves you liked the most on his routines. 

He was a good teacher, always patient with you when you struggled to get a move right. He always sat with you, made you breathe in and out before continuing where your mistake was. He managed to make you a graceful dancer, you would be forever thankful to him for that. 

Right now, he invites you over to help him, Hyunjin and Minho to choose what moves would be best for the newest song. 

Sure, you weren't a dancer, but you were public and since you weren't a professional, your reaction and opinion could help them improve and modify the parts that needed the readjustment. All of that, and they also liked to have you around. 

Ever since you and Felix started dating in secret, some of the members teased you and him when you were together. Little did they know that you confessed to him and he actually felt the same way for you. It was fun to act like nothing happened when you and him were alone and flirting back with each other in front of the guys. 

Hyunjin's beanie fell off his head again, flying in your direction and bringing you back to reality. You shook your head and looked at the object in front of you. Picking it up, you walked over to where Minho and him were standing. 

"Hey, Y/N, are you okay?" Hyunjin asked you when you handed him his beanie. It was a strange question, you thought. 

"I'm fine, why are you asking?" he and Minho exchanged a look when you answered them.

"Hmm, I don't know… I guess you just seem a little off today" Minho shrugged. 

Yeah, you weren't fine at all.

Three nights ago, Felix and you were making out in his bed when Jisung opened the door, making you and your secret boyfriend separate from each other in record time. 

Then, two nights ago you were in the tranquility of your home riding Felix, you were just about to reach your orgasm when Chan called Felix over for an emergency at the dorms and demanded his presence there immediately, leaving you hanging. 

And lastly, when you were cuddling watching a movie with him at the dorms, he started fingering you when the rest of the boys decided to join and he chickened out, meaning that you could get caught more easily. 

Felix didn't like risks, unlike you. He wasn't a man of adventure, preferring to stick to the things he knew and was familiar with, meanwhile you liked experimenting with everything, because life was short. 

You thought that was why your relationship worked so well. He kept your feet on the ground and you convinced him to try new things with you. 

"She's just tired. We kept sending each other tiktoks until late at night, it's my fault" Felix answered Minho's question for you, walking over to where you were standing next to the other boys. 

"Yeah, I'm just a bit tired. I bet you guys are more tired than me, you're all sweaty and stinky" you wrinkled your nose, staring at the stains of sweat on their shirts making them laugh at your exaggerated expression. 

You weren't tired, you were frustrated because you hadn't been able to cum in the last few days. It was annoying, especially because Felix revealed that he jerked off to the thought of you that morning when he was in the shower. He whispered that to you when you were in the elevator with the guys, making you laugh in nervousness. 

"If you're tired someone can walk you home. It's late and we've been practicing for a while now" Minho said, looking at himself in the mirror and fixing his clothes. Hyunjin was accommodating his beanie as well. 

"I'll walk her home, just let me practice the choreography one last time and then we'll leave" Felix said, resting his arm on your shoulder when he was close enough to all of you. 

"That's good with us. We're going to buy something to eat, I owe Binnie his favorite food" Hyunjin said, looking at Minho and then walking to the door. The oldest followed him, looking at you two suspiciously before closing the door. You swallowed, he definitely knew something. 

Felix left your side, checking the outsides of the practice room and then locking the door. You smiled, you kind of had an idea of why Felix wanted to be alone with you, and him locking the door meant that you were absolutely right. 

Your boyfriend walked to you, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in the crook where your neck connected to your shoulder. You patted his hair, laughing because he was all sweaty and sticky, his body pressed against your own making you feel the dampness on his shirt, product of all his hard work. 

"Guess what, baby?" he grabbed your attention, whispering close to your ear in that deep raspy voice that you loved and drove you crazy. 

"W-what, Felix?" your voice trembled. You weren't looking at him, but you knew he smirked when he noticed the neediness in your voice. He had only said one thing and you were ready to succumb to him instantly. He loved it. 

"I'm going to make you cum so hard the whole building will hear you" he said, his hands pulling at your shirt to take it off and when you did what he wanted you to, he kissed you fiercely, your head spinning when you were missing air in your lungs and gasping when he finally let go, a trail of saliva still connecting your lips. 

"Take your pants off" Felix ordered, separating his body from yours and started to undress himself lazily as well. Your eyes flew to his hardened cock, he stroked his dick and your mouth watered, between your legs a uncomfortable sensation of wetness increasing. 

Felix took you by the arm and pushed you against the mirrored wall. You put your hands in front of you to protect you from the impact of your body against the mirror, it felt cold but it was a nice contrast to the fire of his touch in your body. 

Placing his hands on your hips, he pulled them backward to expose your dripping hole to him. He passed his fingers through your slit, collecting your juices and rubbing your clit. You moaned, the feeling of him taking care of your neediness making you content. 

"God, you're dripping wet, Y/N. I bet you can take my cock so well without having to stretch you first" you nodded, head against the mirror at his words. You needed him in that moment almost as much as you needed oxygen, your pussy throbbed, aching to feel him inside you for good. 

"I need you to fuck me, Felix. Please, I need your cock" you cried out, looking at him through the mirror. He smiled evilly, standing up and aligning his cock at your entrance. You sighed, pleased that he would follow your words and fuck you numb just like you needed to be fucked. 

"I'm going to, baby. But I have a rule you need to follow if you want to cum" you looked at him expectantly, your lust controlled brain making you nod incontable times even without hearing what he wanted you to do. 

"I want you to watch how good I'm fucking you, baby. You're not allowed to look at anything but yourself in the mirror, you understand?" again, you nodded. 

"Good. If you look away I won't make you cum, so be a good girl for me and look at the mirror only" Felix kissed your shoulder, entering you slowly and moaning when your warm walls stretched with his cock. 

You gasped in delight when he entered completely into you, trying not to close your eyes and look at your satisfied expression. 

Felix's grip on your hips was so strong that you knew he would leave mark there for a few days, but you didn't care. All you could think about was how good he was fucking you, making your legs shake as your orgasm approached. 

One of the hands supporting you from hitting the mirror left its place to go and rub your clit, you were feeling so good that it was getting almost impossible to keep your eyes open and watch yourself be fucked by the perfect man behind you. You had to admit it was kind of hot watching yourself be ruined, that plus Felix's moans with yours filling the room in the practice room… 

A particularly loud moan warned Felix that you were close to your release, your fingers rubbing your sensitive clit faster and Felix finally hitting that sweet spot that melted your brain. It took him a few more thrust to finally have you crying out in pleasure, him still penetrating you through your orgasm and following you, reaching his own high as well. 

He pulled out of you, trying to regain his normal breathing pace. Your legs couldn't support your body for much, and he noticed. He carried you to the lonely couch and placed you gently, looking for something to help you clean the mess between your thighs. 

"Felix? That was… fucking hot" you exhaled, spreading your legs to help him clean you. 

"I know, baby. You clenching around my cock, crying out for me when you orgasm is the hottest thing in the world. I'm happy you think so as well" he smiled, collecting the discarded clothing and dressing himself before helping you get decent again. 

"Felix… I think we should do this again" you said quietly, but not that much because he heard you and looked at you with a smile. 

"There's no doubting it, baby. We'll do it again, that's for sure."

#skz fanfic #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic #felix smut #felix x reader #kinktober 2020 #han jizung's kinktober list #day 30

[mavzoon]

Rohan x f/reader smut

I was planing on making this super kinky but it ended up being pretty cute, oof. 

TW: overstimulation, degradation, rough sex, Rohan being an absolute fucking tease

Word count: 3282

I might edit a male reader version for this at some point, who knows.

Cut for length

"Good luck!" Koichi said before hanging up.

You sighed, putting your phone in your bag. Why do I have to be the one to drag this stubborn… handsome... man away from his manga? If Koichi can't persuade him to take a break, how can I?  You stepped to Rohan's front porch and picked up the spare key from under the doormat. You opened the door without knocking or ringing the doorbell. 

You threw your bag down and went upstairs to his drawing-room. You knocked three times before stepping in.

"Koichi, for the last time… I'm going to take a break once I finish this page." He didn't even turn around.

You crossed your arms and leaned on the door frame. "Judging by the fact that Koichi had to ask me to come, you've made that promise already, multiple times."

Rohan spun around with his mouth agape. You tried not to giggle. He regained his composure and turned back to his work. "Well, now you've heard it as well, so get going. I have to finish this-"

"Rohannn, please! You have to eat at least something!" You whined and walked next to him. 

Rohan scoffed and held up his finger. "I will… after I finish this page…"

You pouted and tugged at his sleeve. "And how many times did you tell that to Koichi? Now, please, let's just go to the kitchen, and I'll even make you something."

Rohan paused and stared at your hand, holding onto his sleeve. "Fine, but I'll stay here and draw in the meanwhile."

You tugged his sleeve again. "Rohan, Koichi told me you haven't moved from that spot for almost five hours!"

He glanced at the clock. "So?"

You grimaced. "So… It's not good for your posture," you mumbled.

"Is that it? I've already told you I'd come downstairs after you've made something."

You paused and looked away. "Is it now a crime for me to want to spend a little time with you?" What the madness was that gave you the courage to say that was, you didn't know.

Rohan pushed his chair back and studied you. He tapped his drawing pen on the desk and hummed, annoyed. "You want me to pay some attention to you, is that it?"

You blushed and nodded. Oh shit, where is he going with this?

Rohan clicked his tongue. "God, you're high maintenance. Fine, but on one condition. Take off your clothes."

"W-what?" You stammered and nearly choked. When Koichi called you, you hadn't planned for things to take this type of turn. You wanted to ask what had come over him but could only stammer.

"I, umm-"

Rohan snickered. "What, have you gone deaf?" He leaned closer to you and whispered. "Take those clothes off."

"What? Is this some kind of impromptu nude drawing session? Wha-"

Rohan sighed. "First you beg for attention, and when I give it to you, you start complaining... Will you please sort yourself out!"

You wanted to question things further, hell, you were still waiting for your brain to wrap around what was going on, but you decided to just roll with it. You pulled down your pants, your hands trembling all the way and kicked them off to the side. Then you pulled your shirt over your head. You bit your lip and glanced at Rohan. "Do I also take off-"

"Everything," he murmured, crossing his arms behind his head.

It took you some self-control not to scream from… embarrassment? No, that couldn't be right. You didn't even try to deny wanting him. You glanced up at him. Rohan's emerald green eyes were almost half-lidded and filled with a sort of dark desire. You bit your lip and slowly began pulling down your panties. Rohan looked on intently. You reached behind your back and undid your bra. You tried to keep eye contact as you threw it off, revealing your breasts, but shied away from the intense look he was giving you. 

You shivered. Rohan interrupted you before you could cover yourself. "Stop. Stay just like that." He reached for his notepad and began sketching vigorously. 

You blinked. "Are you-?"

"Obviously."

"B-but why? I mean-"

He set the notepad down and smirked. "Why? I think I've already told you that reality inspires me, so tell me," he beckoned you to come closer. You obeyed. "Why on earth would I pass up the opportunity to capture something truly beautiful on paper?"

You couldn't say for sure what the sound that left your mouth was. A squeal? A whimper? Perhaps a high pitched cough. 

Rohan paused for a moment. 

You bit your lip and crossed your arms. "Are... you okay?"

Rohan glanced at you, his face solemn. He shook his head and sighed. "I want to try something..." 

He motioned something with his hand. You tilted your head in confusion. 

He chuckled and raised his brows. "What are you waiting for? Come, have a seat."

"Wha- where?" you looked around, confused.

Rohan tapped his thigh a couple of times. You were relatively sure that your soul briefly left your body. 

"T- you… I mean… You want me to-?" you stuttered.

Rohan huffed and nodded. "Exactly."

You stood in place, stunned.

Rohan shrugged. "Or you could always walk away."

You wasted no time stumbling in front of him despite feeling like you were going to faint at any second. You hesitated for a moment. Seeing this, Rohan reached out, placed both his hands on the back of your thighs and pulled you closer. You struggled a bit, finding a comfortable position on his lap. 

You wrapped your hands around his neck and looked up at him. 

He smiled, almost gentle. "See? I don't bite."

"Stop teasing me," you mumbled. 

Rohan smirked and trailed his hands up your sides. "You wouldn't have shown me that pretty body of yours and sat on my lap if you didn't like it." You wanted to hit him back with a snide remark but instead opted to shut him up with a hurried kiss. Seemingly not expecting it, he froze and tightened his hold on you. You began to pull back when you felt him place one hand on the back of your head and pull back in. He hummed softly against your lips. Seeking warmth, you ground your hips gently against him, your breasts rubbing against his clothed chest. 

Each time he pulled back, you expected him to move on, but he kept kissing you as. You whined.

He chuckled. "You wanted attention, and now I'm giving it to you, and here you are, being impatient. Tch, such a dirty girl!" 

You whimpered. "I can't help it, you're just so…" You trailed off, flushing red.

He hummed. "Oh? I'm so what now? I didn't quite catch that."

You tried looking away, but he placed a hand on your cheek and made you look at him straight in the eye. "Go on, tell me what's going on in that pretty head of yours." He trailed one thumb over your lower lip.

"You're beautiful and… I really like you… So I just want to feel you against me," you held your breath, trembling from anticipation and fear.

Rohan sucked in a breath as his eyes widened. Before you had time to pull back and apologize, he had captured your lips in a feverous kiss. 

"Oh, thank god," he wrapped his arms around you and muttered almost breathlessly.

Your eyes widened, and you pulled back. "Wait, does that mean you like me as well?"

Rohan chuckled and pulled you against his crotch. You whimpered as you felt the heavy weight of his hard cock rub against you. "What does it look like, eh?" He whispered. 

You grinned and ground against his cock.

"A-ah," he moaned, but it turned into a laugh instead. "And who's the tease now?" His eyes glinted with genuine happiness.

You bit his earlobe gently.

Rohan groaned. "You little fucking minx." 

He picked you up, making you squeal. "Rohan! What are you doing?!"

He set you down on the edge of his desk and began pushing aside the papers. You had to shake your head and blink a few times for the realization to hit you. Holy shit, he's pushing ASIDE his fucking manga to have me sit on this desk, what the fuck? 

Rohan smirked and pushed you down on the desk. "What? I'm just trying to make you comfortable, and you're acting as if I just pulled a bunny from a hat or some shit!"

You blushed and squealed as he knelt in front of you. You tried to sit up but he placed a hand on your stomach and pushed you back down. "Wh-what are you-?" you whimpered. 

Rohan took a hold of your ankle, kissed the top of your foot. "What do you think?" he whispered as he began trailing small kisses up your legs, his other hand caressing your thigh. He trailed his hands and the kisses upwards until he reached your panties. "You came in here," he pushed his fingers under the hem of the panties and yanked them down, "and start to pester me. 'Oh, Rohan! You need to take a break! Oh, my dear Rohan! You must be so tired and hungry!'" he pulled the panties off completely and leaned forward until his hot breath hit your exposed core. "I think I'll just eat you out and make us both happy." He kissed your entrance. "Don't you like that idea, hmm?" He licked up and kissed your clit. "C'mon, use your words." He looked at you, his green eyes clouded with lust.

You were pretty sure all traces of modesty had been snuffed out of you by that point. You reached down and caressed his hair. "Please."

Rohan chuckled. "Please?" He leaned down. You trembled with excitement. Then he tilted his head to the side and gave your inner thigh a quick kiss. "You can do better than that, can't you?" 

You almost wanted to cry. "Rohan! Please, just… touch me! I'll do anything, I swear! I just want to feel your- OH god!"

He dove down and began sucking your clit. After teasing you for so long, his vigorous pace was nearly overwhelming. You tried to push your thighs together, but he stopped them with his hands. 

He would occasionally slip lower and lick up your juices. "God, you taste so good!" he moaned and hummed. You were left a mewling mess. The ends of his hair would occasionally trickle against your inner thighs, ticking you. 

"Fuck! Rohan! That feels so fucking, fuck!" you whipped your head to the side and moaned, clenching your fists and curling your toes. 

Rohan chuckled, his breath making you shiver. "What was that? I couldn't quite hear what you tried to say there. Would you mind repeating yourself?" 

You wanted to smack him for being a smartass but that thought left you as soon as he gave you a particularly rough lick. "Oh, fuck! I'm close!" 

You yelped as Rohan pushed two fingers in and began scissoring them. If you could've thought at that point, you'd most likely felt embarrassed about how loud you were being. "Rohan, please!" You weren't even sure what you were asking for. Rohan delivered though. He thrust a third finger in and began doing the come hither motion. 

You whipped your head up. "I can't Rohan! If you keep doing that, I'll-" 

"Go on, do it," his voice was way huskier than usual.

You weren't exactly sure for how long you stayed there, sobbing for release while pulling away from it, but when you did finally cum, you could've sworn you almost blacked out. Your legs trembled. Your voice broke as you let out a string of curses mixed with Rohan's name. You began feeling almost nervous when he didn't let up. 

"R-Rohan! I can't-"

"Yes you can, c'mon, just let go," he muttered against your oversensitive clit.

You threw your head back and nearly screamed from pleasure. You were vaguely aware of the tears running down your cheeks. You almost feared that you'd snap apart from how good you felt. 

Then it happened. You squirted. You trashed around, trying to pull away while hoping that Rohan never let you go. You heard him chucked through your babbling. Babbling? At that point, you were downright sobbing and whimpering. You yelped as Rohan licked up your juices. You were about to tell him to stop, that you'd actually break if he went on. Before you could, however, he stood up and kissed you. You whimpered as you tasted yourself on his mouth.

"You okay?" Rohan asked.

"Yes- but fuck-" you whimpered. "How the hell did you do that?"

He chuckled and pushed a stray hair off your face. In the afterglow, you were struck by the way he was staring at you. The look in his eyes was downright soft. You could swear you had seen him look at a finished manuscript with the same expression. Your heart skipped a beat. 

Rohan hummed. "What is it?"

You shook your head and bit your lip. "I'm just… realizing that we should've done this sooner."

He smiled and kissed you again. "We've got plenty of time to make up for it." He pulled away. "Shower's just down the hall. There should be a spare towel in there somewhere-"

"Don't you… I mean, don't you want to get off as well? And like… go further?" You interrupted him.

Rohan blinked at you. 

You shook your head. "I mean it's okay if you don't want to! There's no hurry." You giggled nervously.

Rohan hummed and smirked. "Of course I want to… go further, I just didn't think you'd have the energy for it."

You slapped his arm playfully. "Oh, please, I can take way more than this!"

"Fine," he laughed, picked you up and began to carry you to the hallway.

"Where're we going?" you mumbled, kissing his neck.

"I figured the bed would be more comfortable for both of us."

 Rohan held you up with one arm, opened the door, marched to the double bed and dropped you down on your back. You giggled and pulled him down on top of you. He captured your lips in another feverous kiss. 

You tugged the collars of his shirt. "You're overdressed."

He hummed. "I suppose I am." 

Rohan threw his jacket off and pulled his tank top over his head. You blushed as you saw his defined abs, making him chuckle. "Oh, so now you're embarrassed?" he cooed.

You shook your head. "Just didn't expect you to be this toned."

Rohan placed a hand on his heart and frowned. "Hey, what kind of slob do you take me for?"

You giggled and pulled him into a kiss. He smiled against you before pulling away and standing up. He unbuttoned his belt and kicked down his pants along with his boxers. You bit your lip. He truly is beautiful from head to toe.

You must've looked a mess because Rohan chuckled. "God, I can almost see your mouth watering! You really are a desperate little slut, huh?" 

You got on all fours as he walked back to the bed. "Only for you," you whispered as you leaned in to give his generous cock a kiss. 

Rohan breathed in a chuckle and pulled you away from his cock. "As much as I'd love to see those pretty lips of you around me, I can think of one thing I want more right now."

You hummed. "Oh, and what would that be?" Where the fuck did this confidence come from? 

"First, are you on the pill?" 

You blushed and nodded.

Rohan smirked. He pushed you on your back and crawled on top of you. "Good," he said before kissing you. 

You threw your legs around him and pulled him closer. His cock slid against your dripping folds, making you both moan. 

With a few seconds of fumbling around and trying to get comfortable, Rohan lined himself up, the head of his cock rubbing against your slick entrance. He kissed you once more before pushing in. You both moaned in unison. At that point, you were thankful for his teasing earlier because the stretch would've hurt had he not toyed with you beforehand. 

"Y-you can move now," you mumbled, wrapping your arms around him. 

Rohan wasted no time. He pulled back and slammed in again. You whimpered at the delicious way his cock was stretching you out. Rohan buried his head against your shoulder and set a slow but hard pace. You could tell from the way he was trembling against you that he had also gotten worked up.

You jerked out a moan each time his powerful thrusts shook your body. You latched onto his back, not being able to bring yourself to care that your nails may sting. 

"Fuck, Rohan, please go faster!" you moaned between the thrusts. 

"Faster, eh? You sure you can-"

You grabbed his chin. "For fuck sake, Rohan! I know you want this as much as I do so shut up and fuck me like you mean it!"��

Rohan grunted and grabbed your arms, twisting them over your head. "Fine. If you wanna act like a desperate little slut, I'll treat you like one." He pulled out, pulled your legs over his shoulders and slammed back in. You could only squeal as you felt every little detail of his cock rub against you. 

Rohan grunted over you as he placed one hand on top of your throat and squeezed. Your moans broke into little wheezes. You wanted to cry out as his balls slapped against your ass. Everything seemed to feel so much hotter with your blood flow being restricted. You could only writhe under him.

"Fuck, I should've tied you up with something!" Rohan groaned and kissed you roughly. "Maybe next time, eh?" 

You shivered and whined as the bed creaked. 

Rohan tightened his hold on your neck. "Do you like that idea? Huh? Do you want me to tie you up and use you like a toy?" He leaned back and studied your messed up form. 

You pussy clenched at that. You tried to respond, but his grip was too tight. 

"Hah! It's okay, I know you'd love that." He leaned back in and kissed you almost gently. Then he bit your lip and nearly snarled. "You'd love to be my slut, right? Go on, say it." He released his hold on your throat. 

"YES! Oh god, yes! Please, Rohan! Please, make me your slut, please!" You whimpered before even catching your breath properly. 

Rohan moaned at that and picked up his pace again. He placed one hand on your hip and leaned down, folding your legs over. You whined at the stretch. From this position, you could take him even deeper. Rohan kissed your neck and moaned into it.

For some time, all that could be heard was the creaking of the bed and the noises you and Rohan were making. At some point, you realized that the sight of you two must be absolutely sinful to the smallest detail. The almost feral way he was using your body only managed to spur you on. 

Rohan movements became sloppier. "Fuck, I'm close!" he moaned.

"Please, cum inside, please!" you whined, your voice nearly unrecognizable. 

"Fuck!" Rohan's hips stuttered, and he moaned against your neck. 

You whined as you felt his hot cum coat your insides. You couldn't help clenching against him at the feeling. 

Without a word, Rohan pulled you into a searing kiss, your foreheads rubbing together. You stayed there for some time, panting and clinging to each other. 

#Rohan kishibe x reader #kishibe rohan x reader #rohan x reader #jjba x reader #jojo x reader #jjba fanfiction #sin

[morgana-ren]

  hi I’m here to thirst.

shigaraki makes his gf fuck a joystick. discuss.

——————————————–

Hhhhhhh yes fuck yes oh babey yes. So, dating Shigaraki can’t be easy, right? He’s temperamental, easily irritable, and disappears for long stretches of time on quests with his League. If something goes wrong, he’s going to be an insufferable asshole for a while. He’s one of those types that when he’s in a mood, he either won’t leave you alone or he won’t even look at you. He might use you as his personal stress relieving fleshlight until your thighs are chafed and you’re leaking cum from every orifice, or just flat out refuses to touch you for weeks at a time. 

Now here’s the kicker. You’re his, and no one is allowed to touch you, and that includes you. If it’s not some part of him that’s inside you, there better be nothing at all. If he’s not satisfying you, you’re not getting off.

That presents a problem, especially when he goes through one of his month long mood swings where any time you try to coax him, play with him, seduce him in any way, he just shoves you off and tells you to leave him alone. The more persistent you are, the meaner he gets. See, the rule doesn’t go both ways. He’s allowed to pump his cock whenever he wants, but if he catches you with your hands inside your panties, he gets pissed and you are fucking in for it, and not in a fun way. 

Well, that doesn’t mean you’re not tempted. You have needs after all, and if he’s not going to fill them, you’ve got to do something about it. 

He hasn’t touched you in ages now. He’s too busy angrily ranting at Kurogiri down in the bar, leaving you in his room alone. You can hear him even, something something All Might, something something heroes. There must have been another public appearance that set him off this time. 

He was already gone before you woke up, game still sitting on the same pause screen it was before you fell asleep. You doubt he’ll be back before the sun goes down, since he rarely ever is in times like this. That leaves you with a little free time to relieve yourself of some stress. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right? As long as you’re quiet, no harm, no foul! So you slither your sinful little hands beneath your underwear, grinning like a maniac as you rub yourself. It’s been so long, so it’s easy to work yourself up into a slippery mess and slip your fingers inside, grinding your palm against your hand. If it’s any consolation, you tell yourself, you’re thinking of him when you do it.

Well, as it turns out, Shigaraki doesn’t settle for consolation prizes. You swear to God the guy has a sixth sense for your pussy clenching because when you open your eyes for a brief second, he’s standing in the doorway looking pretty displeased.

You can try to stumble over excuses or pretend that you weren’t just fucking your own fingers, but your splayed legs and soaking panties are a dead giveaway. All you can really muster is a the same look a scolded kid gets when it’s been caught stealing from the cookie jar, and Shigaraki is a very angry daddy. 

“I leave you alone for a few hours and I come back to this.” He gestures to the bed you’ve so licentiously spread yourself across, raspy voice barely above a whisper. He steps inside the door frame, angrily kicking the door shut with the back of his heel. “What have I told you?” You could try to explain to him that it’s been well over a month since he last touched you, but you highly doubt he cares. You’re proven correct because even though he asks the question, he doesn’t wait for an answer before continuing his little tirade. 

“Such a slut that you can’t wait to stuff your greedy cunt with whatever you can the second I’m not looking.” 

He looks livid, but the hardness tenting at his pants says otherwise. Maybe the dry spell has been hard on you both. 

“Fine. You want something inside you so bad?” He takes something from his desk, chucking some corded item your way. It lands hard and heavy on your lap, and it takes you a second to process what he’s telling you to do.

It’s his fucking joystick. 

He loves this thing. It’s one of the few things he treats with respect. And now he wants you to… fuck yourself with it? It’s still plugged in for fucks sake. 

You look at him waiting for him to say he was kidding, but he doesn’t. Just gives you that stern, blank look he gives when he expects something done and isn’t accepting any arguments. 

It is oddly phallic. It has enough ridges along the length that you can tell it’s meant for a hand, but honestly, it probably wouldn’t be half bad. It’s long and thick, could probably stretch you in all the right places. Maybe that’s just your muddled horny brain talking. You wouldn’t look at this thing twice if you were in your right mind. 

But you’re not. And he doesn’t seem to be either. 

“Quit stalling. Grind on it.” 

He’s not accepting any suggestions, it seems, and when he gets like this, it’s best to just do what he says and hope no one ends up hurt. So tentatively, you slip your underwear down your legs and kick them onto the floor before pushing yourself up onto your knees. His eyes flick to your discarded panties for a second before switching back to you, watching behind narrow lids as you tilt his beloved accessory at a diagonal angle and rub your wet pussy along what is clearly not meant for it. 

The bulbous head of the handle brushes just right against your puffy clit, spreading your lips out around the toy as it stimulates you, and you can’t help but bite your lip as pleasure begins to pulsate once again. You’re already sopping wet, drenching his prized controller in your juices the more you rub against it. It’s not long until you’re sliding yourself up and down on it like some frenzied bitch in heat, working your hips against it and mewling with every hit against your swollen nub. 

You risk a peak at Tomura. Surely, he’s got to be furious. He wasn’t expecting you to enjoy this, and you clearly are. This was supposed to be a punishment, but you can’t help it if you’re that needy. 

But he’s not furious. His eyes are glazed over and drifting shut, palming his cock through the thick of his pants, watching you ride his paddle like it was made for you. Seeing him worked up only gets you that much hotter, the rolling of your hips intensifying until you’re openly moaning. 

“Fuck it.” 

You slow only slightly when you hear him speak, looking at him through heavy lashes. It takes a minute, but you process the words. You don’t question it. As you readjust your body, he slips his swollen cock out from his jeans, slowly stroking two circled fingers up and down. Your mouth waters seeing those pearlescent beads of precum weep from his aching head, but you’ve got another task to focus on at the moment.

With a little preparation from your fingers, you sink down on the makeshift prick, humming from the pleasure and pain as it stretches your walls. Even in your heated state, it’s thick and hard, contrasting your soft, squishy insides that try to contract around it even as it pushes further and further inside you. It only hurts for a moment, slipping deeper with less and less resistance the further it goes. 

It isn’t until it hits the jelly ceiling protecting your cervix that you feel it. Some soft tap deep inside you and then a rumbling that knocks the wind from you. Something happens on the TV screen but you can’t focus on it. The controller vibrates.

It takes you a second to regain your bearings, but when you do, you begin to bounce gently up and down on the joystick, lifting yourself up by the knees only to descend on it again and shiver when that little red button pushes down against your lining and it hums deep into your core. Shigaraki giggles as your head throws back, a filthy, lustful moan escaping your throat. He’s pumping himself in time with your movements, breathing heavy as he watches you fuck yourself for his amusement on his second favorite property. 

Using one hand to steady the base of your improvised fucktoy, your other comes down to your aching clit, rubbing in circles as your hips gyrate and your cunt sucks it inside your needy hole only to reluctantly release it again with each movement. You’re panting, sweaty and feeling the pleasure crest deep in your abdomen. If this was supposed to be some sort of punishment, the joke is on him, because between the fullness in your throbbing core, and the way it purrs just right in your sensitive heat, you’re going to cum, and soon. 

Just to drive the point home, you whine his name, high pitched and pathetic. 

You’re close, you’re close, you’re so close, you can feel yourself clenching and fluttering. You’re going to cum, you want it, you want it, you need it-

Before you can finish, a strong hand pushes you onto the bed by your shoulder. You yelp as you fall onto your back, your temporary plaything slipping out of you as you do. The pleasure ebbs downward and a frustrated cry is all you can manage.  Something hits the floor with an undignified plunk and you realize Shigaraki has thrown his controller off the bed, taking its place between your legs instead. He’s already yanking your ankle down, positioning himself between your quaking thighs with a flushed face and dilated eyes.  “This isn’t over.” He manages to slur, plunging himself inside you where cold plastic once was.  He’s lost this round. But you have a feeling the game isn’t over. 

#Shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #nsft #like for real #he makes you fuck his controller #Sorry if it sucks my friend :( #I've actually never written something like this before lmao #I'm having trouble getting into the groove of things today #submission #I am also quite drunk : )

[riceccakes]

1 & catradora :)

trope writing prompts: send a number and a pairing :)

hi anon, you didn’t pick a category so i’m choosing my favorite out of the three, hope thats okay !!

“What, you’ve never thought about us?”

-

Adora was leaving. She was brought into Hordak’s office and left with a bittersweet smile. Catra didn’t need to even ask; Adora got the promotion. This would’ve been something to celebrate, had the promotion not meant moving across the country to the sister company, Dryl Inc.

“Hey, this doesn’t mean I’m gonna fall off the face of Etheria,” Adora said as Catra helped her clean her desk. “I’ll still call and I’ll visit every now and then.”

Catra kept her mouth shut, biting her tongue. It was too much at that moment, to try and even put into words what she was feeling. Instead, she hastily scanned Adora’s file cabinet of folders and tossed whatever the woman wouldn’t need.

Adora was Catra’s first friend at Prime Co. The desk job was going to be temporary, answering phone calls and trying to sell merchandise to make money while she looked for something more permanent. But, her and Adora started on the same day, were in the same training session, even were in the same group for “Team Building Exercises.” When the scheduled lunch time came around, Adora sat down at Catra’s empty table with a smile.

“Do you like tuna?” she asked. She stopped, shaking her head, “Was that stereotypical? I’m sorry, I should’ve worded this better.”

Catra kept a close eye on her, not responding as Adora pulled out three sandwiches, four bags of chips, two large cookies, and four juice boxes.

“I saw you weren’t eating so I thought I might offer one of my sandwiches,” Adora started, holding two of the three up, “I have two roast beef and one tuna, but I should’ve worded this all better.”

She began muttering to herself, fiddling with the plastic wrapped sandwiches and Catra finally reacted. She laughed, taking the tuna out of her hand and opening it.

“You’re fine, dummy. I like tuna.” She bit into it, glancing up to see Adora’s pink cheeks trying to hide.

They’d been at the company together for almost two years and while Catra was still coasting along, sure she’d stay until she found a more suitable career, Adora was excelling like no other coworker. Their boss, Hordak, had been giving her a bit of extra treatment, at least Catra noticed. She was sure Adora would be chosen for the new promotion Hordak announced a few months ago and wasn’t surprised today when Hordak called out from his office for Adora to see him.

When the last bit of Adora’s desk was in the box issued by Hordak, the picture frame of the two girls from the holiday party on top, Catra sighed.

“How long until you have to leave?”

“About a week,” Adora answered, lugging the box towards the elevator. “I have to pack my apartment too and everything.”

“Right,” Catra looked at the floor, wrapping her tail around herself. She stayed a few feet from Adora, wishing the elevator door wouldn’t open. She hissed at the sound when it did.

Adora stepped in, calling out Catra’s name. “Help me move out?”

Catra rolled her eyes, “Of course, idiot.”

When Catra clocked out, she drove to Adora’s almost too quickly. She hadn’t realized how much she dreaded that office; without Adora, her deskmates were bland and boring, lunch was a drag, and the empty space next to her hurt her heart more than she wanted to admit. 

Catra called out over the next few days, opting to help Adora move rather than endure more nine hour shifts in her newfound hell. She was silent for almost all of the packing sessions, still too upset to see Adora go. (Deep down in her heart, Catra hoped Adora would say no to the promotion. She hoped Adora would want to stay with her and not leave and keep working together and play pranks on Kyle until they retired. She hoped she wouldn’t have to ask Adora this, she hoped Adora would just know.) 

Catra knew Adora was talking, but the sentences never stuck in her mind. She was too busy wrapping dinner plates in old newspaper and bubblewrap and trying her hardest to stop her shaking hands from dropping any.

When she placed the last one in the box (all of them in tact, a feat in itself) she heard Adora say, “Let’s get drinks.”

It’d be only one more day before Adora had to leave. Catra placed the last box in the moving truck and nodded. Her tail wrapped around her again and she felt her ears drop. Adora placed her hand on Catra’s shoulder and she shuddered, quickly pulling away. Another time she’d deal with all the thoughts in her head, all the words she was screaming in her throat, all the “Please don’t go.” “You don’t need a new job.” “I’ll just make Hordak give you a raise, that’ll be enough right?” “Who am I supposed to make fun of Kyle with? Lonnie? She’s all talk and no bite, she’s always eating lunch with him and Rogelio.” Another time she’d deal with all of those thoughts, that’s what Catra told herself.

At the bar, Catra and Adora found a booth in the back. It was closed off from the rest of the patrons, perhaps for the better because Catra didn’t want anyone else to see her cry. (She wasn’t banking on it happening but she’d been close to doing so the past few nights, maybe this night would be what broke her.)

“Oh, come on, Catra,” Adora kicked her leg under the table. “Lighten up, I told you this isn’t goodbye.”

She sulked in her seat, swishing the vodka soda in her cup.

“You know, I asked Hordak if I could bring you.”

Catra froze, “What?”

“I’m supposed to be some department head when I get to Dryl Inc. I asked if I’d need an assistant or something but Hordak wouldn’t budge.”

“Assistant, really?”

Adora raised an eyebrow, “Oh, so you’d rather I just go and not make an effort to try and bring you?”

Catra’s eyes widened, Adora’s tone sounded insulted. She shook her head, “Wait, that’s not what I--”

Adora laughed, kicking her leg again, “I was just joking, Catra.”

Catra’s ears fidgeted, her mind trying to understand why Adora tried to get Hordak to let her leave too. “Why’d you ask him?”

Adora gulped, taking a long sip from her beer, “Well, I just. You know, it’s always been you and me at the company and well. I don’t know, I just thought,” she paused, finishing her drink. “What, you’ve never thought about us?”

The emphasis on the word scared Catra, much deeper and closer to her core than the thought of Adora leaving at all. Of course she’d thought about them, the two of them as more than friends. All the movie nights in Adora’s apartment after a long day at work, all the fast food deliveries to the office when Catra would reluctantly stay overtime since Adora was. All the times Adora’s blue eyes sparkled in the dingy office lighting (seriously, how did her eyes do that?) and all the times Adora’s laughter perked her tail in delight. She thought about all the company parties they attended, about Adora dressed up in a long dress with her hair pulled back and her neck exposed and that stupid perfume that made Catra’s hands twitch because she just wanted to grab Adora’s waist and kiss her. Of course she thought about it all.

And even while she wanted to say all of it then, her throat closed up and Catra just stared at Adora.

“Oh.” Adora reached for her beer again and brought it to her lips, eyes widening at the clear bottom. She placed it down with a blush, looking down at the table. She whispered, “Well, I have, a lot. I’ve always been too scared to try anything, for example, right now, because clearly you haven’t and I’ve made this weird.”

Catra desperately wanted to correct her, wanted to reach across the table and yank her shirt to pull her into a kiss. But she was stuck in her spot, staring at Adora who still looked gorgeous even when she was sad.

“I just like having you around and you’re really soft and you’re always nice to me,” Adora continued. Her voice was barely audible but Catra made it her mission to hear every last word. “I’m just really gonna miss you.”

Catra heard the sentence, felt her heart jump out of her chest at the notion of Adora missing her at all. She internally slapped herself across the face and finally forced her body to move. She jolted up, slamming her knees on the underside of the table as she grabbed Adora by the collar and kissed her.

Their teeth crashed and Catra knew her knees would turn into a bluish, purple color but she didn’t care. Adora’s lips were soft and tender and that stupid perfume she wore made her quietly moan as she pulled away for air. Adora pulled her back in, placing a few more gentle kisses, more successful ones at that, and let out a shaky breath.

“What the hell was that, Catra?”

With her heart rate settling, Catra kept her eyes shut. She didn’t want to sound stupid, didn’t want Adora to know just yet she was melting like putty, so she forced her brain to regain consciousness.

“If you wanted me to come with you, you should’ve just said so,” she breathed. Adora kissed her cheek and she cursed under her breath, “You’re packing up all my shit, though.”

#ricewrites #catradora #catra #adora #spop #office au #one shot #anon

[lollytea]

Fearless (part 2/3)

( PART ONE okokok some parts of this are pretty good. some not so good. but the important part is im tryin my goddamn best out here.)

[OCTOBER 22ND, 7:02PM] The sun had melted away beneath the distant hills and Louie had somewhat calmed himself down.

At least, he was no longer hyperventilating. The feathery tufts on his cheeks were not as fluffy as before, now clumped together from his waterworks earlier. 

He lit the last of his lights, drawing the match away and allowed the head of the flame to seize its last moments. It danced with delight, flickering as it devoured the thin strand of poplar wood.

Louie watched it too long, finding solace in the glow of gentle orange. Just as it was teasing to taste his fingertips, he snuffed it out, not nearly as interested in the arising string of pale smoke. Seven illuminated oil lamps circled his room, washing him in warm, yellow light. But still, It would breed an array of shadows, outlining everything with subtle pools of gloom. Shadows made Louie uneasy. They gave him the strangest feeling that he was being watched. Reminded him of people and powers that were best not to think about. But a shadowy room was preferable to pitch black. He was scared of the dark. Come to think of it, he was scared of a lot of things. Louie had a complicated relationship with fear. He was, by no means, the skittish kid from five years ago. He simply couldn't live with that mindset for long when thrust into the life of McDuck royalty and all the madness and danger attached. So, he adapted. His busiest days tended to fall in the order of breakfast, adventure, magic, certain doom, barely escaping with your life and then sleep. Rinse and repeat. Living like that didn't phase him much anymore. How could it when he was surrounded by the most courageous family put on this earth? And when you continue to survive when that was your Day-to-Day, it had a tendency to boost your confidence. He had gotten braver for sure. Much braver. And yet, he couldn't help but feel like he was lying to himself sometimes. Being afraid of the world around him had never quite faded, he just gotten much better at handling it. Recent years made things all the more messy. His brothers weren't as brave as they used to be these days. Not after what they went through. As a spot of hope, Huey was starting to rebuild a stronger, improved version of his old self. But Dewey still needed time. It made Louie wonder if his intrepid brothers could be broken like this, should he even bother trying to toughen up? He had never been like them. Not naturally, at least. He didn't stand a chance when his time came. He figured that with all he's experienced, he should've at least developed past his more irrational fears. But he didn't.  Deep down, silly stuff still unsettled him. Spiders, violence, surprises. The dark. Ty knew he was afraid of the dark. Ty knew most of the stuff he was afraid of. And despite teasing Louie for pretty much everything else, never his fears. He claimed his brother was the same so he didn't find it all that weird. Louie called bullshit on that one. From what little he knew about Ben, it was impossible to picture that guy being scared of the dark. Ty was most likely trying to ease his insecurity. It didn't work. He felt uncomfortable sometimes, being somebody scared of so much, being close with somebody like Ty. Fearless. It sorta made him wonder if he was inferior. As if standing alongside Ty just wasn't right. The balance didn't seem equal. Wow. Louie was never gonna be good enough, was he?   Wait, no, stop it. Fucking stop it. He had no right to be feeling all sorry for himself for the probability that he wasn't good enough for Ty. On the grounds that he wasn't brave enough? No. Of course Louie wasn't good enough for Ty. That was an irrefutable fact. But what mattered right now was that his carelessness had almost gotten Ty killed today and he couldn't, in good conscience, be focusing on anything else. He almost got Ty killed. He almost got Ty killed. He almost got Ty killed. That was a little more important than "Boohoo, cute bear boy is never gonna kiss me. I'm sad." To make matters worse, Louie had gone and chosen the perfect time to figure out he was in love with Ty. Sure, It had left him happily dopey at the time. But now, after everything that happened, it was like his imaginary little love letter left a paper cut on his heart and splashed it with lemon juice. Ty was going to resign as his retainer. The more Louie said this to himself, the easier it would be to accept it when he received the news. It was truly possible Ty was currently out of his life for good. As much as Louie was trying to talk himself into hunting the boy down right this minute and begging for forgiveness, there was a part of him speculating that Ty would prefer not to see his stupid royal face ever again. It hurt. It really did hurt. But if that's what Ty wanted, Louie would silently abide by the request. He hated to admit it but the spineless side of him didn't want to face Ty either. The last look at him had been his still body laying on an iron bedstead in the castle infirmary. Beakley had assured the stricken Louie that Ty was not dead but refused to divulge the details as she ushered him out and exiled him to his room for the rest of the night. He needed to see Ty conscious. He needed to see him alive. It would be one weight off his chest just to know his retainer had bounced back. But also.....he didn't want to know the damage he'd done. He want to know how badly Ty had been wounded nor how close he had brushed by death. It had been Louie's fault. And he knew that. But the thought of confronting it head-on was a difficult reality to swallow. Even though he should. He should. Completely unrelated but another dumb, embarrassing thing that made him jump out of his skin? Sudden noises. Still completely unrelated but there was a knock at his door.

___________

[OCTOBER 22ND, 11:24AM]

The sky was clear, the autumn air wasn't chilly but pleasantly crisp and there was a lively gathering in the forest. It was held in a wide clearing, bursting with happy people, milling around and chatting. Surrounding them was an almost perfect circle of tangled old oaks, their branches wreathed with strings of homemade lanterns and flower garlands. 

Ty and Louie were quick to turn on tunnel vision towards the table with a large arrangement of party food. They came away with armfuls of bread, cheese, fruits and two tankards of apple cider. They found a spot for themselves, hiding away behind a stack of bailed hay just on the outskirts of the festivities. They set up their little feast, which they wasted no time in devouring. 

There were minstrels playing a vibrant tune. But even with all their flutes, fiddles and practice, they fell short in comparison to the natural music of Ty Cloudkicker's laughter. Louie was talking fast. He was gravitating into Ty's space as he did so, lured in by the bubbling sound. He was eager, grinning deliriously as he spouted out more and more of his story to keep the laugh from fading.

As if it was a lifeline. Like the back of his mind was utterly terrified it would stop. Yet he was entranced with a flood with endorphins, so enamored with the resonance that he couldn't help but be elated as he rattled on to keep himself alive. "Okay, so nobody specifically told Uncle Donald that keeping snacks in your crown was not considered "Kingly" behavior. But see, he just saw it as an extra pocket. He didn't get what the big deal was." 

When Ty laughed hard enough, he started snorting. He attempted to control himself. Louie wished he wouldn't. "So imagine being one of those advisor buzzard dorks, right? And you're having this big, important royal audience with the new king. And then right in the middle of discussing warships or something, he reaches into his crown, (not breaking eye contact.) and starts munching on a fish sandwich. They looked at him like he just spat on their mothers' graves." The octave skyrocketed and Ty disintegrated into high pitched cackles, tightly clutching his side as if he would split in half. It swept away the narrative in Louie's head, fizzling the thought process as he continued to gaze at Ty as if he were channeling golden light. However, his brain did not send the memo to this mouth that it was time to stop talking. Which led to Louie stuttering out "And the--....He--...uh, he--,um...." a brainless smile slapped on his face all the while. He couldn't stop smiling. He was crashing and burning and he couldn't stop smiling. He was certain he would be humiliated over this blunder later but right now, it was pretty funny. Thankfully, his subconscious had mercy on him, cutting him off with a nervous, breathless giggle. Ty was oblivious to whatever kind of gay breakdown Louie was having as he was trying to regain composure from his own hysterics. He was beginning to calm down, occasional wheezy yet delighted noises still sputtering out of him. His shoulders relaxed and he leaned back with a shaky exhale, still stuck with that huge sunny smile. They fell into a silence in the aftermath, content to sit and just listen to the music. Ty picked up his cider and took a gulp. Louie mirrored him. Then Ty's entire frame bucked with a surprise hiccup and Louie nearly choked. He was pretty sure he saw his whole life flash before his eyes as he collapsed into a coughing fit, Ty thumping him firmly on the back. "I'll live, I'll live!" Louie gasped, regaining himself. "Stop hitting me, I bruise like a peach." "Sorry." He drew his hand away. Then he hiccuped again and Louie lost it. "It's not funny!" Ty insisted, a desperate crack to his voice. It was pretty hilarious, actually. Not just the ridiculous little noises, but the way his shoulders jumped and how he would blink in split second afterwards, startled and bewildered like a baby animal. Ty gave him a shove, Louie still snickering and flailing his hands to halfheartedly fend him off. "Hey, hey, what gives you the right to attack me? I nearly choked and died 'cause of you." "Sounds like a "you" problem." "Where'd those hiccups even come from? Your papa bear never teach you not to drink your cider so fast?" Ty's bottom lip jutted out, irritated. He shook his head "Nah, it's--" Hic. Louie snorted. "Shut up!" He snapped. Yeah, his face was definitely a darker shade of pink than usual. "Sometimes I get hiccups if I laugh too much." "Huh. that's a thing that can happen?" "Yeah. A thing I gotta live with." Hic. "Lemme guess, this hasn't happened in a while?" "Huh?" Ty turned to him, perplexed. "Nah, it happens all the time. And when I tell ya it's the most annoying thing--" "You can't be serious." Louie smiled with a disbelieving shake of the head. "You, like, barely laugh anymore." "What's that supposed to mean?" "What?" He shrugged. "You don't." Ty rolled his eyes and directed his vision elsewhere. "I usually do whenever I go back to the glen." "Are Ben and Lottie really that funny?" "They are the least funny people I know. Also they suck and they're cheaters and I hate them." Hic. Let's see. So, he was clearly pouting. Acting all petty about his siblings. The Glen. Laughing to the point of hiccups. "Lots of tickle fights, huh?" Louie deduced, a smirk playing across his beak. Ty considered him for a moment, as if he was thinking about decking him right then and there but ultimately decided it wasn't worth the effort. (Louie was offended.) He then looked off into the distance, an indescribably haunted look in his eye. "Soooo....I'm gonna guess you usually lose the tickle fi--?" "I do not!" Ty abruptly yelled, shooting him an indignant look. "Let's get this straight, if it's one-on-one, I win. I always win. You better not forget that, your highness." He jabbed Louie's chest with his forefinger. "I'm the best fighter out of the three of us. In fact, I probably got the potential to be the best fighter in the whole kingdom!" "Real modest." "It's just if they team up, then it's unfair! That's why they're--" Hic. Louie watched, delightfully entertained as Ty hissed "God. Damn. Hiccups." "And how often do they team up?" He didn't answer right away. Then reluctantly grumbled "Most of the time." "So what I'm hearing is--...." Louie casually leaned against Ty's side, propping his elbow on the latter's shoulder.  "You do lose most of the time?" "Shut up." "No." "Okay, so here's the thing. Let's say you're a big, strong brave knight. You're super cool and heroic and everybody respects you." Hic. "Then you go back home and then suddenly you're just someone else's baby brother and they see you just standing there, minding your business and they're just like "Well! Guess I gotta obliterate him!" And they do not hold back." "Ohhhhh, I get that, I totally get that." Said Louie. "Well, not the brave knight part. But y'know. Me and my brothers had to share a room. It was tiny. There was always a foot in your face or whatever. And sometimes when were bored, they started getting rowdy and throwing hands and it's not like I asked but I got dragged in too. When I was just trying to sleep, man! I wasn't asking for a spontaneous duel at 2am." Ty snorted. "Oh yeah, and sometimes Dewey calls me a little bitch." "He's right." Louie knocked his body against Ty's, making a sound of faux outrage. Ty only found that funnier. Huffing, Louie pawed around for the cluster of grapes at his side. He twisted one free and twirled it around his fingers for a moment. "Watch this. I can feel it. I'm gonna do it this time." "Are you now?" Said Ty in such a distinctly pleasant tone that Louie could not possibly interpret it any other way than "I do not believe that but I'm humoring you but I also want you to understand that my sweet voice is oh, so bitterly sarcastic. Fuck you." "I see you're doubting me." "Me? Doubt my liege? I could never." "Yeah, yeah, yeah, you're a real court jester. Now shut up and observe." Louie wiped all expression from his face and inhaled deeply to obtain peak tranquility. He relaxed his whole frame. If he could pull this off, this would be his day for sure. Ty was watching. This moment would define his life. Thinking a hasty prayer to every known God, force and entity  that had ever favored the unlikely ones, he tossed the grape in the air, threw his head back and opened his beak. The grape finished rising and gravity took control. It fell. Down, down, down, down. Louie now understood the concept of meditation. He was so in the zone, he could've sworn the grape was descending in slow motion. Yes, yes, it was aligning directly below his beak. He was gonna catch it! Down, down, down, down. Then Ty snatched it right out of the air and swallowed it whole. Louie sat, slack jawed, attempting to process what had just happened. He slowly turned to Ty, completely blank. Huh. That moment really did define his life. "You bastard!" He squawked. "Me bastard!" Ty exclaimed, looking insufferably proud of himself. "How could you?! I know our allyship has been complicated but this is high treason!" "Sorry, sorry, I just--" He sat back a little, shaking with silent laughter. He then formed a square with his hands and hovered it before Louie, squinting one eye. "I just needed to see the face you would make and god, it was worth it. You think you could hold that face for a few hours to get a portrait made? I'd get it framed and hang it in my room." He was teasing him. Louie knew he was teasing him. And yet he still blushed bright red from the fragment of fondness blurred in the implication. "W-well, well I would--I'd--" He floundered, racking his brain for a retort. "You think there's any musical instruments that could replicate your dorky little hiccups? I'd hire minstrels just to have them play it for me! Y'know, for when I need a laugh." Ty's smug grin dropped and his eyes flicked about uncertainly. "I--..." He dragged the word out, face flushing at a rapid rate as he folded his knees up to curl in on himself. He crossed his arms. "I think they're gone now anyway." He mumbled. Hic. God, that never got old. "If you laugh one more time, I'm putting you in a tree and leaving you there." Louie laughed again, out of spite. "Nobody's fault but your own. Imagine you've just fought an epic battle and you think there's no more enemies to take on. But as soon as you say that out loud, boom! Second ambush! You would think a warrior like you would get that." "Your highness?" "Yeah?" "Shut your huge mouth." "No." "Okay. Dunno why I thought that would work. Never does." "Y'know I would offer to spook your hiccups away. But we both know that wouldn't work." "Yeah, probably not." Said Ty with a shake of his head. He perked up a bit. "Lottie gave it a shot once. Nothing." "Well, it's just like you said that one time." Louie shrugged, then faltered when the back of his mind took notice of the dimly glowing orange irises he was met with. His voice softened involuntarily. "You're fearless." He didn't know what he said wrong. Ty's face fell. He looked so utterly devastated that Louie, completely lost to why he was even upset, felt his own heart shatter to pieces. He wanted to start sobbing just from seeing him. "Oh..." Ty whispered. He clutched one of his hands with the other and began fidgeting with his fingers. "Well, see. Uh, the thing about that is--...." Concerned, Louie scooched in closer, peering at the face that had once again turned away from him. He hesitantly touched Ty's upper arm. "Hey. Ty. Are you--?" "HEY, LOOK AT THAT!" Ty blurted out, his voice nervously rising in pitch. He attempted to subtly clear his throat. Louie followed the direction of Ty's pointer finger which was gesturing out to the thick expanse of forestry. There was nothing there. But then he caught a flash of movement and noticed two figures tucked away in the shadows of the trees. A young man and woman, probably only a few years older than them. "The couple?" Louie asked, puzzled. "The what now?" Then Ty did a double take, then snapped to attention as if he had just noticed them. "Oh! Oh, yeah, them, sure. I mean, yeah, that's what I meant. Them. Uhhh....look at them!" "Uh. Okay? Why?" "Theeeyyyy're....cute? Gross? They're something. They're definitely something." Louie hummed, taking the two into consideration. The girl was letting out a peal of laughter and the guy was blabbing away animatedly, looking thrilled with himself that she was finding him funny. He was trying so hard.... Louie didn't know if he wanted to gag or coo out an "aww!" "Grossly cute." He decided. Ty snapped his fingers. "That's it!" "You know, I don't get why they're over there. There's tons of people around here. Why would you wanna show up to a party if you're just gonna hide away and hang out with one person the whole time?" "For real though." For the next few minutes, Ty and Louie observed the couple, keeping up a running commentary on the guy's obvious nerves and the girl's less than subtle advances. Ty and Louie learned a lot about themselves in those few minutes. Namely that they were both terrible at lip reading. "He said Pants." Ty was certain. "No, he said Nance." Louie countered. "Her name is probably Nancy." The girl clapped her hands together, nodding eagerly. "Then what's that for, huh? Clearly he just offered to tailor her a personalized pair of pants." "You are so dumb, that's not what's happening here at all." The guy took a dramatic step back and twirled his wrist an unnecessary amount of times before offering her his hand with a half-bow. She took it, giggling. The two them scampered off, out of the shadows and into the heart of the party, where other couples were twirling around as the minstrels played. He curled an arm around her waist, smiling as though this was his greatest honor and they spun into the motion, flowing so naturally amidst the other dancers as if they were simply another cogwheel in the world's most elegant clock. "Dance." Said Ty and Louie in unison. "Pretty sure we were close." "Pretty sure we're idiots." "Yeah, I know but just let me pretend." Ty suddenly snickered, his eyes glinting. "What was that thing he did with his hand anyway? And why did she eat it up?" "It's called flair, Tiberius." "Kinda dumb." "You're just mad that flair is not something you possess." "Bullshit, watch this!" Ty sat up straight and bent his arm into a perfect ninety-degree angle. "Prepare to be amazed." And then his entire forearm began to spin and spin and spin and spin and spin like a windmill in a hurricane. "Flair, flair, flair, flair," He was chanting and Louie had already collapsed in a giggle fit. It wasn't even remotely funny. It was dumb, it was so dumb. But Louie could admit to himself that dumb schticks get like ninety percent more humorous to him if there's a really cute boy performing them. He was easy like that. Ty was extremely committed to the joke as he kept spinning and spinning for over ten seconds. He kept shooting Louie glances and his grin got wider and wider every time he looked away. "FLAIR!" He let his arm go, throwing out an open palm and nearly knocked it against the side of Louie's head. "Hey!" He dodged. "Watch where you swing that thing, you could've whacked me!" "But I didn't!" Said Ty gleefully. He lowered his hand but did not withdraw. It remained unwavering and offered out to Louie. He took it. He didn't think, he just took it. It was only when they made contact that Louie woke up and his heart promptly spiked. But besides a light blush, he managed to keep his face neutral. "So, I guess it's not just that girl who's impressed by this stuff." Ty was nonchalant. His smile then twitched, as if aching to stretch wider but he was reigning it in. "You are too." They were still touching, which, by all accounts, should continue to fluster Louie. But as seconds ticked by, a sense of calm was settling over him. The very thing originally causing panic was now bringing him comfort. It was the weirdest thing, "I was laughing at you, not with you." He said evenly, catching Ty's contagious smile. "Ehh," He shrugged. "I'll take it." Louie would count this as a new domain for sure. Uncharted waters. As if he and Ty had stumbled in accidentally but now they were here, their curiosity was urging them to explore. Not to a dangerous extent, of course. But maybe just edge along the sidelines and see what they could discover. "Your hands are so tiny, it's crazy." Ty commented, tilting his head. Turning it over, he slid his thumb thoughtfully across Louie's palm. "How do you even hold anything?" Louie wasn't even eyeing their hands but was regarding Ty's pensive face. "It's kinda the worst. Whenever we find treasure and I get my cut, the fancy rings and bracelets are huge. I always gotta go to a jeweler and get them resized if I wanna wear them."' Ty was fiddling with Louie's fingers now, fixing him with a decisive nod. "I'll get you a ring for Christmas." "Woah, woah. For real?" "Yeah. I'll put it in one of those fancy boxes. But then you'll open it and see it's made out of grass and try to have me beheaded." As they were speaking, their hands continued to play around. Ty had flattened his own, aligning his palm against Louie's. Louie spread his fingers and Ty laced his through. "Uncle Donald says I'm not allowed to say "Off with his head" anymore or I'm grounded 'til I'm thirty-five. It "makes the people want to revolt."" Louie air-quoted with his free hand. "But I would fire you for sure." Ty snorted. "You would not and you know it." There would never be any proof that they held hands that day. Not a single eye witnesses, including themselves, as both boys had turned a blind eye to their own actions. They were afraid to look down, as that would be an acknowledgement. Louie had no mental image of the moment, fuschia fur intertwined with snow feathers, only a rush of heat and a hazy ponder if the dampness was his sweat or Ty's. And if the feel of Ty's touch was just an illusion of the mind, there was one poignant hint of the reality and that was how gentle their voices had gotten. "Oh, so, you're really gonna test me like that, Tiberius? Pushing me around, stealing grapes, calling me a little bitch. Is this any way to treat your liege? You don't think I'm at the end of my rope with you?" "Nahhhh...." Ty drew the word out, grinning. He twisted his muzzle into an exaggerated pout and batted his eyes. "You would never because I'm awesome and cool and smart and you love me." It was Ty's utter nerve that left Louie too astonished to even blush. Instead, he simply tilted his head, an eyebrow cocked. "Do I?" He challenged. To his credit, Ty did not relent either. However, the impishness gradually died from his eyes until he was left solemn. "Maybe?" He spoke softly, as though too much force would crack the delicate little word. He bore into Louie's eyes, like he was searching for an answer. Pleading for an answer. Louie felt his own hand squeeze Ty's. He inhaled. He knew he was going to say something, he was just leaving it up his own scattered subconscious to determine what. He would open his beak and whatever words wound up tumbling out would seal his fate. He didn't have a second to panic, to fret, as he was already speaking and he was petrified by how fast this was all going. "I--" Something shattered and a woman screamed in pain. Indistinct shouting and Ty cursed under his breath. Louie scrambled around to see the commotion and the last few things he registered were the gleam of sunlight catching unsheathed weapons, the girl he called Nancy with crimson pooling from her forehead, Ty demanding "Get down!" and knocking him stomach-down into the ground. 

“Stay there and don’t move.” Then Ty had rushed off and everything went to shit.

___________

[OCTOBER 22ND, 7:13PM] Louie was well acquainted with that knock. Firstly, one firm rap against wood, proceeded by two more rapid-fire. He associated it with a twinge of annoyance, high sun beams streaking in his window and somebody near, dear and insufferable to his heart, pestering him from the other side to rise and shine already or his breakfast would go stale. This usually occurred around 9:30AM. If given a say in the matter, Louie would sleep til noon. But he didn't have a say in the matter because every morning, without fail, there was a retainer banging down his door. Something was off this time. Once he knocked, Ty had fallen uncharacteristically silent. No continuation of drumming out an obnoxious little tune and and no insisting he open up. Louie was hesitant to do much of anything. It seemed his door was the only thing protecting him from facing repercussions right now. If he fell deep enough into denial, he could pretend Ty wasn't there. So long as he kept his door shut, he could pretend everything was alright. Ty didn't almost die. It was a tempting thought. It resounded in such an appealing voice inside his head that Louie seized his latch before he could give in. The brass shocked a chill to the pads of his fingers as he held on tight. He had to open up. He had to. His hand fidgeted, stalling the moment. He thumped his forehead against the door, heaving a steadying sigh. "You don't wanna see me, do you, your highness?" He heard Ty say in hushed tones, his voice startlingly close to where Louie had situated himself. "Ehh, if we're being honest....not really." "Oh...." "Do you wanna see me?" "I mean....I kinda don't? The idea of seeing you right now is making me nauseous." The statement skewered Louie's heart. He shook it off. "Why'd you knock?" "'Cause it doesn't matter what I want, I gotta see you right now. It's important." An prolonged pause hung in the air, buzzing with a mutual uncertainty. Louie tapped his fingers to the wood and after a second or two, Ty did the same. Their respective rhythms aligned. "But..." Ty continued, his voice faltering. "If you don't wanna see me, I can go--" "Convince me." Louie was blurting out before he thought twice about it. "Huh?" "I need to open this door but, like surprise surprise, I'm scared. You've done it before. I get scared and you talk me into stuff. Do your big strong hero magic and get me to suck it up. Please, I need it." "Oh, uh, I--" He could hear how flustered Ty had gotten suddenly being put on the spot. "Well, I--...I guess you don't have a choice 'cause if you don't open up, I'm strong enough to barricade the door down. So, I figure we should just do this the easy way." Despite the circumstances and the scruple wrung tense in his stomach, Louie felt the corner of his beak twitch at the tentative touch to Ty's tone. He felt his stiff shoulders relax. "Is that a threat, Tiberius?" "Uh, no." Ty admitted, sounding sheepish. "That was just a joke. See, it was the first thing that came into my head and then suddenly I was saying it. Sorry, I dunno for sure if now is "joke time" and I figured it'd be kinda weird to ask so--" He didn't get to finish rambling. His hair whipped to the side with the rush of air that came with the swift swing of the door. Louie fixed him with a hard look, processing the sight of his retainer standing there, alive and bright eyed. Ty's hand was still hovering awkwardly in the air, where he assumed it had been resting against the door. He blinked back at him, puzzled and a little alarmed, as if caught under a spotlight. He didn't look angry. But Louie knew better than to lull himself into thinking he was in the clear. Whatever resentment Ty was feeling would spill out in time. Louie braced himself. "Hey, Ty." He said stiffly. "Come on in."

#ty cloudkicker #fairytale au