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imjustheretoseetheprivateblogs · 2 years

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Sailor Moon Smutember Week 1:🍋 Established Relationship

Here ya go. I feel like this one isn’t as good as I intended. I had a headache in the final days of the week and the story just didn’t come together in the way I hoped. All in all, I hope you guys enjoy it and that this won’t derail me like what happened in my last fandom event.

update: sorry for not tagging you @floraone

Today was Wednesday.

A cold and dry hump day like this one would probably be well spent inside, away from the sting of wind with no promise of snow or milder days.

But in the strange way that was now life in Azabuu-Juuban, Wednesday was the unofficial day when leftover monsters (Daimons, Droids, Youma, and Lemures alike) showed up to run around like a chicken with it’s head cut off. If chickens were the size of semi-trucks and were all armed with RPGs.

Apparently, this happened because Beryl had left “sleeper cells” around the city the night before her end game to ensure she had a ready army for her conquest of earth when she had finished off her hated enemy, Sailor Moon.

The Lemures and Droids most likely had been forgotten by their owners when they folded and the Daimons were likely leftovers from Tomoe’s lab that had escaped into the sewars.

And this attack had to happen mid-day, mid-week, when everyone else was busy.

Life seemed to be like that, with or without monsters that called themselves Spin Cyclist.

“The stains of the Moon Kingdom will be cleansed from this earth!” the creature said in it’s Industrial Music-like voice.

“So, I was thinking,” Sailor Venus said, her chain wrapping around the Youma’s neck and yanking it hard enough to cause it to cry out, “how did you guys decide what a Youma was going to look like?”

“There wasn’t really a finalized process,” Kunzite said, parrying a strike from Spin Cyclist’s hose-like tendrils with his sword, “I used what I could find, Nephrite tended to use whoever had the most energy—”

He ducked, leaving the Youma’s tentacle to strike air.

“And Jadeite used whatever was part of his plan. Zoisite never told me how he did it.”

“Well,” “Well,” Venus said, aiming a finger at Spin Cyclist’s head, “you guys could have at least not left them lying around.”

With a battle cry, Venus released a crescent beam at her target. The attack bounced harmlessly off it’s temple.

“All Sailor Guardians will be washed away in my power!” the creature bellowed.

“But why does he call himself ‘Spin Cyclist?” Venus asked, ducking another strike, “he’s got a freaking washing machine for a body! There’s nothing Cyclist about him!”

“In all likelihood, it was a bad pun.”

Kunzite blocked another strike before weaving between oncoming blows to get to Venus.

“Well,

Kunzite braced himself against Spin Cyclist, and the air crackled; the Youma groaned as energy drained from it into Kunzite. Normally, he took energy to charge an attack, but he’d recently found that he could use energy absorption to his advantage, in est immobilizing an enemy.

Spin Cyclist sagged, it’s cries growing weaker as its Kunzite robbed it of it’s energy. But even in it’s weakened state, the youma had a good seven feet on him and his arms didn’t even envelope around the back of it.

“Do it now, Venus!” he cried as the creature struggled to break his hold.

Sailor Venus must have heard him, since she jumped on top of an upturned car as her chain appeared in her hand.

“Venus…”

Spin Cyclist seemed to recognize the voice and began to struggle in Kunzite’s grip.

“Wink chain…”

The Holy Sword appeared at the end of the chain as Venus aimed it at the Youma. Kunzite held tighter and braced himself.

“sword!”

The attack surged from Venus’s hand, spearing Spin Cyclist through its mid-section as the chain behind the sword encircled and constricted it. In response, Kunzite fired a blast of it’s own energy at it’s head, leaving a smoldering wreck in it’s wake. The remains of the Youma went limp and fell backwards with a crash.

Kunzite let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding as Sailor Venus walked up to him.

“So, wanna bet which person designed this one?” she said, elbowing Kunzite in the arm.

“I’m more worried why it didn’t disappear or turn to dust,” he said.

The cheeky grin Venus wore faded. That was a valid question.

Suddenly, Spin Cyclist let out a pathetic noise that was probably what a tractor sounded like burping when the glass door on it’s front popped open and a geyser of damp clothes and sudsy water shot up.

And landed on both Kunzite and Sailor Venus, drenching them. After which Spin Cyclist disappeared, leaving only a dented washing machine in its wake.

“Jeez!”

Sailor Venus picked what was hopefully a t-shirt from her shoulder.

“I think this was a Zoisite youma,” Kunzite said, taking a sock from off his head. He followed up with a sneeze.

“We should probably get back to your place and warm up,” Venus said, rubbing her arms when a particularly strong gust blew in with a chill.

Kunzite couldn’t agree more.

The inside of Karim’s apartment was blessedly temperate compared to the drabness of outside.

Except for the fact that once their transformations had dropped the two of them were still sopping wet, chilled from the outside air and Spin Cyclist’s attack.

Karim made a note to “thank” his “brother-in-arms” for including that feature in a youma.

Minako had dragged out a space heater and turned it on full blast and headed straight for the shower in what must have been record time.

Judging from the steam that billowed out from under the bathroom door, the hot water would probably not return until tomorrow.

So, Karim was content to simply towel off in the living room and brew a cup of tea. Turning the heater down and putting his clothes by it to dry them better, Karim wrapped a towel around his waist and headed for the kitchen to check the tea. He only stopped once to pick up a late edition of the news that was laying on the table.

Five minutes after he’d sat back down the water turned off and the door opened.

“That is so much better,” he heard Minako say.

Out of the corner of his eye, Karim caught a glimpse of her. Hair down, a towel around her shoulders as if you preserve her modesty (he almost had to laugh; all of Minako’s modesty had nothing to do with her sexuality), it was a look he hadn’t really seen on her but he wasn’t about to complain.

“Comfy?”

The sly edge of Minako’s voice should have been a warning; he’d heard it enough times. Her “comfy” could be translated as “I see you’re only wearing a towel; would you mind it if I tore it off and had my way with you?”

He should have told her now wasn’t the time; should have offered to let her use the hairdryer or maybe cook her something.

But he’d be lying if he wasn’t curious at what the goddess of love was cooking up in that beautiful head of her’s.

“Quite,” he replied, not looking up from his newspaper.

The couch dipped, letting him know she’d climbed onto it beside him, smelling freshly bathed and much warmer than when they first came in.

“You know, you didn’t really notice.” Karim smirked and flipped another page of the paper.

“Notice what?” he asked playfully.

“My new panties,” she replied.

It felt like Minako shuffled around and when Karim finally looked over, a familiar possessive heat blossomed inside him.

He really hadn’t seen the pair she was wearing, cardinal red with a pink heart outlined in lace dead center of her ass.

“I approve,” he said.

Minako turned back around and climbed closer with a smile.

“I can tell,” she said.

The white towel around her shoulders obscured her bust from his vision, but really, he didn’t need it. Her hair was freshly blow dried and brushed, a healthy glow on her face that suited her so much better than the pallid shivering look she’d worn on the way in, and a radiant smile he’d grown to know so well. It was a view someone could look at forever.

And he almost didn’t feel the warm hand that landed on his thigh because he was so busy drinking her in.

“I knew you wanted something,” he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

Minako’s hand slid up his thigh and flicked aside the towel, revealing him to the world.

“It’s nothing big,” Minako said, her hand beginning to work his shaft, “just a little handjob. You can pay it back later.”

She leaned in and kissed his lips.

“I’ll pay it back to you as soon as I can,” Karim replied.

Minako jolted when she felt a slap to her buttocks.

“Karim!”

“I thought I would try something new,” he said, feeling somewhat sheepish.

Minako’s response was to grab him by the hair and crush his mouth to her’s, her pace picking up considerably.

“Do that again,” she said through the flurry of kisses and nips, “And I will bring you down.”

He was at full attention now, his senses all focused on her, his lover, his partner, his goddess.

Karim wanted to pull down those new panties and fill her, but that would mean that her touch would be gone for too long and he wanted to ride that too completion.

With a grunt, he came.

“Fuck, Minako…”

Minako leaned down and lapped at some of the pearls on his stomach.

“Only if your sister’s not coming home for another hour,” she said.

She leaned back onto his shoulder, putting a hand on his chest.

“Not one of our flashier moments,” she said.

“I liked it,” Karim said.

“Well,” Minako said, “that was more of a casual ‘catch your boyfriend in a towel and blow his mind’ kind of quickie.”

For a while, the two of them just sat there, just enjoying each other’s presence and the fact that neither of them was cold or covered in sudsy water anymore.

#sailor moon Smutember #smutember2022 #sailor moon #my writing #minakunz #post-series #aged up characters #It's Lemon Scented

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icanthelpbut-love-you · 5 years

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day and night, say that you’re mine

read on ao3

The first time it happens, it takes Alec a few seconds to process what’s going on.

They’ve just entered Pandemonium, back in New York for the first time since commencing their new roles in Alicante. The transition has actually been far smoother than anticipated – although that’s not hard given that part of Alec was expecting to spend at least the first few months de-escalating confrontations with bigoted Clave members every time either of them so much as spoke – and he really has to credit Jia for surrounding herself with such open-minded delegates in the aftermath of Malachi’s coup. But still, that doesn’t mean it’s been entirely without conflict, so both he and Magnus are definitely ready to just let loose for the night. Pandemonium had been an obvious choice, for nostalgia’s sake but also because the perks and VIP treatment that come with it are unparalleled (no need to bother waiting in line when you’re married to the owner).

As they make their way past the bouncers, Alec becomes aware of eyes on them. Spotting a faerie woman staring intently a few feet away, he’s immediately on guard until he catches the unconcealed hunger in her expression. It’s disorientating to say the least because, sure, his husband is indescribably hot and Alec has caught people ogling him covertly for as long as they’ve been together, but he can’t recall anyone ever being this blatant about it. There’s no visible reaction from Magnus, who doesn’t spare her so much as a glance though it’s clear he’s noticed her gaze on him. Or at least, he’s noticed the way Alec has tensed up at the sight of someone making such obvious bedroom eyes at his husband, because Magnus squeezes his hand reassuringly as they walk past.

With the feeling of Magnus’ hand warm in his and the comforting press of their wedding rings against his fingers the discomfort abates, and Alec’s fully prepared to dismiss it as a one-off thing. To rationalise that that particular Seelie was just unusually bold. But, as they continue through the entranceway they make it only a few steps into the actual club before Alec notices another person – a man now – watching Magnus appreciatively. This time Alec’s not quite as caught off-guard and the feeling that bubbles to the surface is a mixture of anger and indignance rather than bewilderment.

Noticing the attention once again, Magnus sends the man a flatly unimpressed look. Instead of being discouraged, the man only smirks and winks provocatively. Magnus turns back to Alec, obviously exasperated, rolling his eyes as though to say “as if”.

So not a one-off thing then. It’s at that point that Alec realises that he’s never actually been clubbing alone with Magnus. They’ve been dancing at a variety of venues, gone to countless restaurants, and spent a frankly ridiculous amount of time at the Hunter’s moon, but every time they’ve gone to Pandemonium – the one place with an atmosphere that would encourage this kind of open staring – he’s pretty sure it’s been with a big group. Which means that people have probably been looking at Magnus like this every other time they’ve gone clubbing and Alec’s just been too distracted by laughing at Jace’s antics or glaring at Simon as he babbles or nervously trying to endear himself to Catarina (not an easy feat after the whole almost-getting-married-to-Lydia thing or the Soul Sword fiasco) to notice.

The thought makes something in Alec’s chest burn uncomfortably, but it’s not like he can blame these people for staring. Not really. Not when Magnus, illuminated by the flashing neon lights of the club, looks like something straight out of some of Alec’s deepest fantasies.

Magnus has taken to opportunity to really go all out, now they’re free from the confines and ever-present expectations of Alicante. The tight black jeans are nothing out of the ordinary, worn often enough that Alec is finally getting used to the way they cling enticingly to Magnus’ thighs as he walks. Admittedly ‘getting used to’ might be an exaggeration, but he can at least manage to string a sentence together when Magnus wears them now.

The shirt however… the shirt is definitely new. The black fabric stretches across Magnus’ broad shoulders and he’s left a borderline-indecent number of buttons open, allowing tantalising glimpses of his chest to peek through. There’s a subtle silver pattern woven into it too, and Alec has to take a second to reboot his brain as it short circuits each time the shimmering threads catch the light.

In comparison, the burgundy jacket Magnus has donned over the top is almost manageable. Or it would be, if it wasn’t for the chains adorning each shoulder. They’re impossible to ignore, clinking together gently whenever Magnus moves. And they not only draw Alec’s attention to how good they would feel under his hands if he gripped Magnus’ biceps, but also to the matching necklaces that dangle over Magnus’ exposed chest. Necklaces that Alec only has to look at before he’s reliving the sensation of them dragging against his skin, the sensation of his husband above him pressing him into silken sheets.

This night is already shaping up to be a unique kind of torture. But now his focus is fully back on Magnus, any annoyance he felt towards the people eying him is gone as Alec diverts all his remaining attention to making sure he doesn’t do something stupid like trip over his own feet in his distracted state.

Anyway, it’s not like anyone would actually be bold enough to make a move on the Inquisitor’s husband.

A few hours later and it becomes clear that Alec could not have been more wrong. Apparently the members of the New York shadow world are either a lot more oblivious than Alec remembers or have collectively decided that human decency is overrated.

After no small amount of sweet-talking – which Alec would normally protest is cheating if he wasn’t enjoying himself so much – Magnus has managed to coax him onto the dance floor. The pounding music vibrates through Alec’s bones, and he can feel himself getting lost in the heavy bassline and the feel of Magnus’ hands low on his hips, guiding him. Surprisingly, the rhythmic grind is much easier to pick up than the complicated steps of the Salsa or even the slow Waltz they’d done at their wedding. Although, that could be due in part to the couple of drinks he’s had tonight. Not enough to get him anywhere near tipsy, but enough for him to relax into Magnus’ arms and let his body move with the music.

He’s basking in the press of Magnus against him, his husband’s movements intoxicatingly fluid as they sway languidly together, when he feels Magnus tense slightly. He peers over his shoulder in mild concern and sees Magnus rolling his eyes for the second time tonight, a put-upon expression overtaking his face. Almost immediately, Alec’s gaze zeroes in on the man that has sidled up to dance beside Magnus. And yeah, when the dance floor is as packed as it currently is a little incidental contact is unavoidable. But this guy is pressed close. Far closer than even the crush of bodies warrants.

Seething with rage which – if he’s being entirely honest – was probably already a little nearer to the surface than usual after the incidents earlier, Alec grits his teeth. Though he’s more than aware that Magnus can handle himself, it’s definitely a good thing that this man – a vampire if the sharp incisors that flash as he grins seductively at Magnus are any indication – is at least keeping his hands to himself. That so far, he’s only guilty of dancing way, way too close. Because if he dares to lay so much as a finger on Magnus… Alec’s pretty sure he won’t be able to stop himself from straight up decking the guy where he stands, irrespective of Magnus’ self-sufficiency.

So it’s definitely a good move when Magnus neatly manoeuvres both himself and Alec a few steps away from the unwelcome intruder. The constantly shifting bodies on the dance floor do the rest, people immediately filling the slight space Magnus has made between himself and the vampire, and they’re soon swallowed up by the crowd.

Alec breathes a sigh of relief and feels Magnus do the same, evidently irritated despite how effortlessly he’s handled the entire situation. Then Magnus’ fingers tighten where they’ve remained on Alec’s hips and Alec feels his husband’s grin as he leans back to rest his head on Magnus’ shoulder, and thinks no more of it.

That is, Alec thinks no more of it until he leaves Magnus, who has found them a table slightly back from the dance floor, for a few minutes to fetch drinks for them both. It’s becoming clear – and even thinking it Alec knows he sounds completely irrational, but by the angel he is at his wit’s end – that everyone in this godforsaken city is part of an elaborate plot to drive him insane, because when he gets back from the bar with their drinks there’s a shadowhunter girl he’s never seen before sitting in Alec’s seat batting her eyelashes at Magnus.

It’s so unexpected that Alec stops in his tracks. A few months ago this would have been nearly unheard of: a shadowhunter, runes completely unglamoured and on display, openly chatting up a warlock in a predominantly-downworlder bar. But even the pride that rises up with the realisation of how far they’ve come in such a short period of time isn’t enough to stifle the ugly feeling rearing its head at the sight of someone blatantly flirting with his husband.

As he watches, the shadowhunter rests her hand over Magnus’ where it lies on the table, giggling at something he’s said. Magnus, for his part, is looking increasingly uncomfortable and quickly reclaims his hand before waving it in front of her with a flourish that makes his wedding ring glint in the flickering neon lights. It’s a deliberate gesture, impossible to misunderstand. Particularly with the way Alec can see his lips form the words ‘husband’ and ‘Inquisitor’, even from where he’s standing.

It makes no difference. The woman appears to completely ignore whatever politely-packaged rejection Magnus has just offered her, only leaning further towards him. Her hand is on Magnus’ knee now. There’s a subtle twist to Magnus’ expression, a grimace as he steels himself to rebuff her again in a manner that Alec is sure will be both elegant and devastating.

Something in Alec snaps and he’s moving before he’s even aware of it.

“I got our drinks, babe,” Alec declares as he strides up to the table and places their glasses down.

The table shakes slightly under the impact as he places their glasses down. It’s entirely possible that he used a little more force than was warranted, but given the circumstances no one is allowed to hold it against him. He notices Magnus’ surprised jolt, but he’s pretty sure that’s more from the pet name than the glass banging on the table. Not surprising, given that pet names are undeniably more Magnus’ thing, Alec rarely using them aside from teasing or when they’re in that quiet space between sleep and wakefulness in the early hours of the morning. Even then, it’s usually barely intelligible, muffled against the junction of Magnus’ neck as he waits for his morning coffee to brew.

He doesn’t really give Magnus a chance to react further though, brushing a lingering kiss against Magnus’ cheek before draping himself over his husband so he’s sitting half on the chair and half in Magnus’ lap. Magnus’ hands automatically go to his hips to steady him and Alec winds an arm around Magnus’ neck, scratching gently at the short hairs at the nape. Relaxing at the contact, Magnus leans into the embrace enough that Alec can feel the mischievously pleased smirk as it spreads across his husband’s lips.

It’s a clear statement that he is most definitely spoken for. As though anyone in the vicinity isn’t already well aware. They got married in the middle of the New York Institute – a blatant “fuck you” to the Clave that Alec is still unbelievably smug about – for crying out loud, with just about every influential figure in the New York shadow world in attendance. Given that both shadowhunters and downworlders are incorrigible gossips, someone would have to have left the country entirely and cut all contact with anyone in it to avoid hearing about the wedding (and even then they probably still wouldn’t have managed). And it’s not like he and Magnus aren’t recognisable faces, if not for the scandal of their relationship then for their prominent roles among their respective communities.

So no, none of these people making passes at Magnus are unaware of Alec’s undeniable place in his life. In fact, Alec has a sneaking suspicion that they actually see Alec’s presence as a challenge.

There’s precious little he could do to make his point clearer though, short of actually making out with Magnus on the spot. Not the most advisable move for a newly-appointed Inquisitor in such a public location (although considering he has done that once before, in front of dozens of Clave officials nonetheless, if this woman doesn’t back off soon he might just consider it). Even what he’s doing now is far more bold a demonstration than he’d normally dare to give, but he can’t bring himself to care when he’s so comfortably back in his own territory at Magnus’ club after months of being on edge while they’ve settled in at Alicante. And besides, he has had enough.

“Who’s your friend?” he asks mildly. While he keeps his tone carefully disinterested, if there’s anything that years of politics has taught him it’s how to add just enough pause between words to make his contempt clear anyway. He can sense the amusement at his pettiness radiating from Magnus as his husband responds, equally neutral.

“She was just leaving.”

Thankfully – finally – the woman manages to take a hint, looking ruefully at Alec before shooting one last slow glance at Magnus that makes Alec scowl and reflexively tighten his grip. Then she rises, leaving the chair that was originally Alec’s vacant as she disappears into the throngs of people.

Alec stays in Magnus’ lap.

It’s not until late that night that they actually talk about it, curled up in bed together and pleasantly exhausted after a round of… not quite rough, but definitely more-possessive-than-usual sex. Alec had initially tried to tamp down on the instinctive urge to reinforce his claim on his husband, acutely embarrassed by the way he was reacting. Magnus, however, had only urged him on, bruising grip tightening with each mark Alec had sucked into his neck. And based on the lines of scratches down Alec’s back that still tingle on just the right side of pain, and the shards of light-bulb scattered around the floor where the bedside lamp was a casualty of Magnus’ errant magic, Alec’s pretty sure his husband is more than happy with the direction the night has taken.

“You know it’s ok if you get jealous, right?” Magnus starts, voice barely a whisper in the tranquil silence of their bedroom, “That’s something you can talk to me about”

“’m not jealous,” Alec mumbles. In his periphery he can see the incredulous look Magnus shoots him and, alright, after his display earlier it’s probably deserved, but it’s the honest truth, “I’m not!”

Magnus says nothing, but Alec can feel the dubious gaze on him even as he focuses resolutely on the ceiling and refuses to make eye contact.

“I’ve got no reason to be! Everyone else, all the people that stare at you when we go out, they don’t matter because at the end of the day I’m the one you married.”

Damn. He’s not sure who he’s trying to convince, but it definitely doesn’t sound like it’s Magnus. His husband seems to sense his inner turmoil, coaxing him onto his side so they’re facing each other. Magnus’ fingers trail up and down Alec’s neck, tracing his Deflect rune soothingly.

“And you of all people should know that emotions rarely follow logic,” Magnus murmurs, “Knowing you have nothing to worry about doesn’t bar you from being upset when other people flirt with me.”

He pauses for a second, seeming to consider.

“In fact, I think I’d be more concerned if it didn’t bother you.”

“I guess. I mean, I kind of signed up for people checking you out when I married the most attractive man this side of Edom.” Alec laughs half-heartedly as Magnus preens at the compliment, but it quickly trails off into a sigh. “It just feels… disrespectful, I suppose, when they actually hit on you knowing full well that you’re taken.”

“Disrespectful to you or to me?”

“Both? I don’t know,” Alec groans, hand coming up to tug agitatedly at his hair, “I just – it’s frustrating. I hate feeling like this.”

“What do you need? I do my best to shut it down, but if –”

Magnus’ tone is earnest and it makes Alec ache with how much he loves this man, who is utterly devoted to ensuring Alec’s comfort to an extent that Alec still has trouble reconciling with his own insecurities. But Alec’s already shaking his head, cutting his husband off before he can finish.

“I don’t need you to do anything,” he says resolutely, feeling the most certain he’s been since the conversation started, “It’s not your fault you’re ridiculously hot.”

It comes out more petulantly than Alec would have liked and Magnus laughs. “It’s both a blessing and a curse.”

Alec rolls his eyes with a huff, but he can feel the tension slowly bleeding from him and when he speaks again it’s with much less strain than before.

“You don’t have to change anything,” he reiterates, needs Magnus to understand that this isn’t about him doing anything wrong, isn’t about anything other than the entire shadow world apparently lacking basic manners and Alec’s tendency towards overprotectiveness manifesting in an unexpected way. “You’re already handling it with far more grace than I could ever dream of. All I need you to do is reassure me when I get like this, exactly the way you’re doing now.”

Flicking his gaze down, Alec takes in the way he’s plastered himself against Magnus’ side. He’s subconsciously gravitated closer while they’ve been talking so his head now rests against his husband’s chest, arm splayed across Magnus’ waist more than a little possessively and legs hopelessly intertwined. Grinning sheepishly, he amends his earlier statement.

“And maybe tolerate me being a little clingier than usual.”

He hears Magnus chuckle. Then there’s gentle fingers on his chin, tilting his head up so he can meet Magnus’ eyes. The tenderness there makes his heart skip a beat.

“Oh Alexander,” Magnus murmurs, fingers tracing idly over Alec’s cheekbones and leaving Alec helplessly turning his face into the caress, “I think I can do a bit better than ‘tolerate’.”

“And if you’re in desperate need of an outlet for your… frustration,” Magnus continues with a smirk before Alec gets a chance to respond, “Let’s just say I’ll be more than happy to oblige.”

“Careful, I might just take you up on that,” Alec quips, but there’s a hint of promise that creeps into his voice as it drops slightly.

Magnus’ eyes darken, smile turning wicked.

“I look forward to it.”

#malec #shadowhunters #malec fic #alec lightwood #magnus bane #jealous alec #simon lewis #jace herondale #catarina loss #all just mentioned but as usual tagged them in case #shtv #malec fanfic #my fic

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