#there is something. so INTIMATE about even lighting a cigarette for someone else with a lighter
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[Thank you to @avi17 for beta services, any remaining whoopsie-doodles are my own]
Steve Harrington pulled out his pack of cigarettes and placed one between his lips. He dropped the pack back into his pocket and then patted around himself for his lighter.
Fuck. He sighed.
It didn't matter how many gas station lighters he bought and stuck into the pockets of all his clothes, he somehow always ended up losing them immediately.
Talking around his cigarette, he turned to Eddie.
"Help me out here, man. Light me." He aimed the unlit cigarette at his friend.
"Yeah, gimme a sec," Eddie said as he put his acoustic guitar to the side and patted his own pocket. He pulled out a lighter and then reached over and plucked the cigarette from Steve's lips and placed it between his own and proceeded to light it. Then, once lit, he removed it and placed it back between Steve's lips.
Steve just stared, shocked.
What the hell was that? Who lit someone's cigarette that way?
By this point, Eddie had already gone back to messing around on his guitar, didn't seem to notice Steve's reaction at all.
"What was that?"
"You asked me to light your cigarette, I did," Eddie shrugged.
"You could've lit it while it was in my mouth."
"Consider it paying the toll."
Steve laughed at the audacity and got back to digging through Eddie's cassettes as he smoked.
That was the first time. But then it happened again. And again. And eventually it was just the natural way Steve smoked. More than once Steve had realized he did in fact have a lighter, right after Eddie had lit his.
And then once, Steve felt the lighter in his pocket and asked Eddie to light his anyway.
After that, he just stopped trying to carry lighters.
It wasn't until months in, when the habit had well and truly formed, that it happened in front of someone else.
Of course it was Nancy. Why wouldn't it be Nancy?
It was a momentary lapse in judgment. He was running on autopilot. Cigarette goes in mouth, ask Eddie to light him, Eddie takes his toll and puts the cigarette back in Steve's mouth. That's just how Steve's cigarettes get lit.
But then as he was taking his first drag, his eyes happened to catch on Nancy and the look on her face made his blood run cold.
With a barely detectable nod leftward from Nancy, Steve knew his presence was requested for a chat.
He let Eddie know he was helping Nancy get something down from a high shelf and would be right back, and then followed Nancy up to his dad's home office and shut the door quietly.
"What the hell was that!?"
"What, he was just lighting my cigarette," Steve said defensively.
"Are you two dating?"
"What? No!"
"It looked rather intimate."
"I mean, yeah, I guess it is. I dunno, it's just how Eddie lights people's cigarettes."
"He does this to other people?"
"I assume so," Steve shrugged, realizing he had only ever imagined Eddie lighting other people's cigarettes that way after the very first time. After that, he hadn't really circled back to the the thought but now that it was back, Steve found he didn't much like this mental image at all.
Some of what he was thinking must have shown on his face because Nancy gave him a look dripping with kindness and a sprinkling of pity.
"You like him."
"No."
"You like him."
"I don't."
"Steve. You like Eddie."
"...Shit," he cursed, looking off to the top of the bookshelves. Then he looked back at Nancy, seemingly miserable.
"What do I do, Nance?"
She thought about it a moment then shrugged. "Date him, I guess."
"I mean, clearly I'm gay for him, as you just rudely forced me to realize. But I don't even know if he would be willing or interested in dating men. Well, not men, just me."
"I think he is interested. He lights your cigarette in his own mouth."
"Yeah, but that's just paying the toll, Nance! It doesn't mean he likes me! You gotta tell me what to do soon or Eddie will think we are doing something up here. Come on, use that big nerd brain."
Nancy rolled her eyes, but smiled in amusement. "Fine. A simple experiment. Next time he smokes, you do too. See what he does when his lips are already busy. See you this evening, don't be late or we'll miss all the trailers."
And with that she grabbed a pack of printer paper and left the office. He heard her say goodbye to Eddie and then leave.
The rest of the day was spent waiting for Eddie to smoke, and as they say, a watched pot never boils.
Eventually, it was time to head out for the theater. Steve was on edge from trying to act like he was just hanging out with his friend in a normal way instead of obsessively watching him for clues and waiting for him to smoke.
Finally, when Eddie climbed into the passenger seat, he cranked the window a bit and lit his own cigarette. Steve waited a moment while waiting for the car to warm up, then pulled his own out and placed it to his lips.
"Light me?" Steve asked.
"Yep, I got you."
Eddie placed both hands on the edges of Steve's jaw and brought their faces together. Steve's heart nearly burst out of his chest thinking Eddie was going to kiss him, but then he realized Eddie was trying to position their cigarettes tip to tip. Steve snapped out of it and used his lips to help aim, then they both puffed in and out quickly a few times to pass the flame.
He cursed the flammability of thin paper wrappers when his cigarette caught and Eddie released his face. Steve felt fluttery from how unbelievably intimate and sensual that had felt. Not only had Eddie cupped his jaw, fingers bracketing his ears and fingertips in his hair, but it was also very easy to convince yourself someone is looking at your lips instead of your cigarette in such close proximity.
He took a moment to breathe, overwhelmed.
"Steve?"
"Yeah, should be good, just making sure the engine was warmed up." He threw the car in gear and backed out of the drive.
When they arrived, Nancy and Jonathan were waiting out front, huddled for warmth or because they were in love. In a Midwest winter it was hard to tell sometimes.
As soon as Nancy was in view, she and Steve had a nonverbal conversation with their eyes. She questioned, he answered, she looked exasperated, he shrugged.
As soon as they got their seats, Steve threw his coat down next to Eddie and announced he'd grab everyone's snacks if Nancy would help carry. Eddie and Jonathan both offered but Steve and Nancy shot them down and dashed off to chat.
"Wow, really?"
"Yeah! I thought my heart was going to leap out of my throat, I'm a changed man, I'm never going to recover from that. I'm never going to let him smoke alone, either, even if this doesn't mean anything, at least I could relive that moment again and again!"
"I really think he likes you, but if you really want more proof, I'll think of something…"
After the movie, the four stood out back behind the theater, chatting about the film. Nancy watched Steve and Eddie talking excitedly to each other, unintentionally ignoring her and Jonathan. They were quite clearly so intimately comfortable with each other, there was no way they wouldn't be the perfect fit.
And then an idea came to her and she grabbed Jonathan by the shoulder and pulled him down to whisper in his ear.
He glanced nervously over at the two and then back to Nancy, then pulled out his cigarettes which had a lighter stuck down the clear foil, clearly visible, realized and shoved them back into his pocket awkwardly and fumbled to pull a cigarette out with the pack in his pocket.
"Hey Eddie, light me?"
"Sure," Eddie shrugged, tossing his lighter to Jonathan in an underhand throw, barely sparing the man a glance. Steve waited a very conservative five seconds before leaning in to kiss Eddie and Nancy was both pleased and embarrassed that Eddie responded by pressing Steve up against the wall by the dumpster.
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WAIT jimmy + a kiss in public
Strange New World, a tale for Valentine's Day 2024
Jimmy Dobyne x professor!reader from Common Education
Summary: After years of this secret, on-and-off relationship with Jimmy (a student only a few years younger than you), he's determined to make it official before his graduation.
Warnings for a man who knows what he wants ⚠️woah boi⚠️, referenced smutty times, and Jimmy maybe turning me into a fan of the South g'damn. MINORS DNI. There is plenty else for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this one is not for you! WC 2k
You hate the habit and the smell, but at least James Dobyne’s smoking makes him predictable.
He’s a sculpted, contrasting vision in his crisp suit, something majestic about the billowing plumes pushed so deftly from his mouth. It warms you even though the breeze envelops your shoulders and flutters the black satin of your gown.
The Dean’s List party—a formal celebration for the upcoming graduates—is always a big deal for students and faculty, and it just so happens to be the only campus event where you both have had reason to attend.
Just not together.
None of these people really know about you. Jimmy is not a major in your field, and he hasn’t been in a class of yours for over three years now, but you’re still hesitant to ‘come out’ as a couple. This party doesn’t even involve plus-ones. It’s more taboo to be seen as a pair here than anywhere else.
Instead, you’ve found him outside with his vice.
He sees you immediately, taking a long drag of his cigarette, blatantly undressing you with his eyes, not unlike how he left hot kisses up your skin while he zipped you up two hours ago.
You grin and swing the skirt of your dress playfully. “Wha’ch’doing?”
The searing tip dies out while Jimmy cracks his own smile.
“Tryna cover the taste of ya,” he husks, wiping the corner of his mouth.
You strain to hold your amusement though your thoughts are transported to when he helped you with the small clasp on your strappy heels and slid his hand all the way up your leg. He snapped the gusset of your panties for fun before moving them aside.
You have to clear your throat. “And the whole dinner you just ate couldn’t do that?”
“No,” he adds slyly. He’s natural and happy as he leans in, reaching for a hug and a kiss, but you panic.
“Jimmy, not here.”
“Why not? We came here from the same apartment.” He has the wherewithal to lower his voice, exhaling another puff of smoke. “I sleep at your’s most nights. That whole crowd is celebrating a bunch of kids graduating out of this system, so if not here, and if not now, when?”
You can’t resist pointing out his own word. “Kids…”
He straightens, stance defensive and eyes detached, the picture of a film noir character.
“If you had your way, you’d only acknowledge I exist once I’m good and gone, Teach—” he flicks ash off the cig “—tucked back away in Tennessee.”
“That’s not true,” you deflate at the mention of him leaving.
You want to hold him, you really do, but your whole body screams in awareness of the few others loitering outside the event for a minute of fresh air.
“Well, that’s what it feels like.” He stomps out the butt of his cigarette. “They do this every year, don’t they? Fair to say they expect us to mingle.
“Then let’s mingle. And you—“ Jimmy reaches out again, sure to tough your bare neck this time “—are gonna call me your boyfriend.”
“What?”
“You heard me.” He uses the same finger to brush away one of your dangling earrings. “Introduce me as your boyfriend to someone here, right now.”
“People don’t need to know we’ve been…intimate,” you gulp back.
“Intimacies often end up in marriage. People’d know about that, wouldn’t they? Eventually.”
“Jimmy…”
You don’t know whether to run away or drop your panties at the dark look he pins you with, but that is the exact problem.
You’re worried about how the man who fucked you in the dress on your kitchen counter earlier—the one who called you greedy for desperately begging to come a second time before leaving the apartment—is going to behave in public to your colleagues. You’ve had to be so careful for years, and you fear the very real possibility that Jimmy will break. He might not care about his reputation, but you do; you have to care.
Quietly, you ask, “and what if I can’t do it?”
He looks around, clearly disappointed.
“Woman,” he huffs, standing within an inch but making no contact with any part of you, “I’m sayin’ if you can’t choose us, then we never existed.”
He has every right. You’ve been at war with your heart all these years, and it’s high time you declare a victor.
Jimmy Dobyne is twenty-eight years old, and he’s more than proven he adores you. It’s only at your insistence this has been secret for so long.
You give in.
“Ok.”
“Ok,” he beams, giddy and boyish, and you hope beyond hope that he’ll keep it together.
He offers his arm. You take it, thrilled at the substance of the thick sleeve. The moment does feel fancy and official.
As you pass beneath the archway inside though, you round on him.
“But under no circumstances are you to call me ‘Teach,’ got it?” Because that’s all you need to really blow up your life.
Jimmy holds your hand fast to the crook of his arm, bowing his head ever-so slightly. “Yes, ma’am.”
You roll your eyes but accept, stepping into the noisy, enormous ballroom, together, his hand still sheltering yours.
“Don’t worry. I’mma pick the stuffiest looking guy,” Jimmy muses, “someone so aloof ‘e won’t care a lick what you’re even saying.”
That’s when you see him—your ex.
The man who wrecked the flow of your life and trampled on your self-esteem is talking to a pretty, young colleague, and Jimmy is steering you right for them.
“Not him,” you hiss, savagely gripping Jimmy’s arm.
“Why not?”
“I’m telling you. Please, don’t—”
“Too late. I’ve made eye contact.”
Tyler is rarely at these function, and if it weren’t a university-wide event, he likely wouldn’t be here now. That was the beauty of polar-opposite departments; it served you well until the one only moment you needed it to serve you.
“Long time, no see.”
Bespectacled with salty streaks in his dark hair and a haughty expression that radiates superiority, you are not surprised Tyler fit the criteria for men-who-don’t-listen. You force a smile anyway.
“Tyler…it’s been a while.” Do not faint. Do not punch him. Do not tip that bastard’s scotch right into his face. “Jimmy,” you motion. “This is Tyler Brinwood.”
“Doctor Tyler Brinwood,” he corrects, “and this is Giselle Whitley, my department co-chair.”
Of course. Of fucking course.
For a man so consistently belittling of your education, god forbid you forget about his.
“Oh, yes, Missus Whitley—“ whose husband is a well-known banker and about two decades older “—I’ve heard great things. You’ve been a wiz at securing funding.”
“Thank you. It’s a lot harder than it looks,” she says with a wink.
Jimmy makes it clear he doesn’t recognize either name, and he wouldn’t because you’ve never talked about it, ever.
You snap back to the point of this horror show.
“Tyler, Giselle, this is James Dobyne.” A sharp breath in flares your nostrils. “My boyfriend.”
Your ex chuckles in the most humorless way.
“Interesting. Certainly giving the term ‘boy’ a run for its money, eh, Dusty?” He takes a sip of his scotch and looks to Giselle and then you for validation.
“What did you just call her?” Jimmy asks flatly, a hard edge to his tone that implies volumes of distaste.
“It’s about the smell of old books, that’s all.” Tyler can’t believe no one else finds this amusing.
Jimmy is more shocked by this stuffy, tactless man than when he walked up. “Why would you call a lady ‘dusty’?”
Giselle makes a face. “I’m afraid I agree with Mister Dobyne.”
You hope it chafes Tyler that his own friend already remembers Jimmy’s name.
“Well…” Tyler licks his lips and waves his free hand dismissively. “Old friends have…inside jokes.”
You’re not laughing. You’re actually about ready to crawl into a hole and seal it with a boulder.
“Giving that term ‘old’ a run for its money, huh, Brentwood,” Jimmy rumbles in the most sincerely cruel voice you’ve ever heard from him.
If you could carry just one photograph with you for the rest of your life, it would be a shot of Tyler’s face right there.
“It’s Brinwood.”
Giselle discreetly covers her grin with a large swig of her white wine. The men continue to stare each other down.
“So Jaime—“ asshole, you think “—are you a history major?”
Jimmy lets that slide. “Business.”
“Ah yes, the most common curriculum at this prestigious institution. Plan to do anything with your degree?”
Boisterous, pompous mother-fucker, you internally rage. You have the urge to spin around and leave without another word.
“Actually,” Jimmy starts with excitement, curling his arm around your waist as if sensing your will to run, “I took over my family’s general store when I was fourteen—nineteen, if you looked at the official paperwork—and I plan to expand the parking lot into a permanent farmer’s market.” He waits for Tyler, but there’s no immediate response. “I’m sorry, did you follow that? What do you study again?”
“I teach mathematics.”
“No shame in that,” Jimmy adds easily. “Love numbers. Been keeping the books since I was in elementary school.”
“Pure mathematics,” Tyler specifies, bitterness souring his already puckered look.
Jimmy sucks at his teeth in mock admiration.
“Wow. You plannin’ to…do anything with that?”
The silence that follows is palpable.
Giselle snorts while you try to corale a runaway, bug-eyed expression. If you had a drink in your hand, you would have choked.
When Tyler continues to frown, Jimmy looks at you and smiles sweetly, no hint of judgment for your ex’s behavior to be found.
“Ready, beautiful?” He rubs the satin at your side, and Jimmy cannot possibly understand how comforted you are by his presence.
Then he turns back, his point made, the ultimatum complete.
“If you’ll excuse us, it was nice to meet you, doctor, ma’am, but we’ve got a lot of mingling to do before the night’s over.”
He kisses your temple, a gesture somehow more intimate than if he’d bent you backwards and made out with you. It implies you’ve already done that. He’s announcing this isn’t new. Jimmy’s showing that he is neither a boy, nor a recent addition to your life, and that Tyler is, in fact, an old-old friend no longer inside your sphere.
Tyler’s niceties are barely audible, but Giselle wiggles her fingers with a cute “tohdaloo.”
Jimmy guides you through a throng of faceless people. You realize it doesn’t matter who sees you because none of them matter to this: to you and Jimmy. This is the pair of you, a couple, a girlfriend and a boyfriend and no one else.
Your boyfriend keeps you glued to his side until you stop at the bar. He releases your hip so you can face him, his crooked finger holding your chin high.
There’s a loving sympathy in his soft blue eyes.
“Thank you,” Jimmy whispers and gently kisses your lips, hardly enough to transfer your lipstick. Regardless, he checks the supple line with a sweep of his thumb. “Sorry I picked that guy though.”
Jimmy’s shrug of apology is plenty.
He might never understand, but that little interaction has soothed more fears than you could ever voice about how real what you have with Jimmy is.
Jimmy comes from a simple life. It’s straight-forward and without fuss. You do the chore; the chore is done. Rarely do social complications come up. Rarely would emotions derail the success of that work. New York is different, and it’s felt so wrong to expose a man brought up so simply, so wholesomely, to that complex and unfair game of egos.
He deserves a simple love, but you do not live in a simple world.
And yet, you already love him.
Jake Jensen and a kiss where it doesn't hurt ⬅️
➡️ Ransom Drysdale and a kiss out of spite
[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]
@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @rogersbarber @spectre-posts
#ro answers#jimmy dobyne fanfiction#jimmy dobyne x reader#professor!reader#jimmy dobyne fanfic#jimmy dobyne x you#jimmy dobyne x y/n#modern au#modern day jimmy dobyne
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Got inspired and made a Modern!Scaramouche x FemReader!
Tagging @hitomisuzuya because they're the local Scara simp 💜
⚠Warnings⚠:Alcohol Consumption, unprotected sex, Scara being an ass, cigarette useage.
Bad Influence
Scaramouche, the indigo haired male you've come to swoon over despite being told not to. He's a distant man, often straying away from people, always hanging out in alleyways and the roof of the collage you both attend.
You love him. He makes the sun shine brighter and the stars twinkle brighter. Your heart beats faster when he touches your back to move past or to move you aside.
You want to kiss him so bad it hurts.
The worst part is he didn't really acknowledge your existence, always brushing over your attempts to talk, only ever sparing you the time of day to ask where something or someone was. You've never given up though because you're determined to win his affections. He may be cold and unapproachable, but you have a stubborn streak. Even if it took an extra few months to get to him, he eventually would come around. The world just needed a little push in that direction.
Normally people would say this is a good thing, being as he was a bad influence, constantly in trouble. But that didn't stop your determination to gain his affection . Scaramouche has a lot to do with your current predicament. A couple days ago you were hanging out with some friends at the collage and you got roped into drinking after school. A large party raged as it was being hosted by the popular Football player Itto, you only went because your friend dragged you here, however you got into a drinking game with her and some others resulting in your head going fuzzy, you excused yourself to go try and find the bathroom, not that you needed to go but you hoped it would be quieter to try and collect your self.
You never realized that Scaramouche had also dormed in the same dormitory as Itto, never really been thought of until your hand gripped the wrong doorknob, opening it to a dark room. It was hard to see compared to the flashing lights of the party.
You didn't have much time to make out what room you had entered before hearing him, it was Scaramouche's room, he was laying on his bed, face flushed, distorted into an angry look with his hand gripping his cock, now red and throbbing. You had walked in on him during such an intimate moment.
"Hey dumbass! Can you hear me?! I asked why the hell you opened my door! " he shouted , making you jump from the sound of his voice. You were still trying to regain your composure, you felt a blush coming onto your cheeks and your eyes darted to anywhere else
"S-Sorry! I didn't know this was y-your room, I'll just-"
"Hey aren't you that weirdo that keeps following me around like a lost puppy? Yeah, Y/N wasn't it?" He sighed sitting up some not even bothering to cover himself, his soft indigo hair sticking to his face with sweat as his dangerous eyes looked at you.
Your face blushing hard not sure what to do, mind swirling with thoughts as your body heated up, dampening your panties.
This was one instance where you wished you weren't a girl. At least that way you'd have enough self control and wouldn't be acting like a hormonal teenager.
Scaramouche smirked noticing how flustered you seemed.
"Close the door and come over here" He commanded in a dark tone, you could leave if you wanted, he wasn't forcing you to stay but..this is what you've been fantasizing about since you seen him, to be in his arms at his
You did as he requested and stood facing him, your fingers fiddling with each other in front of you. You could feel your chest tighten with nervousness, your breath getting short. You were shaking lightly, you couldn't believe you were doing this. You were practically going through every sexual fantasy you had ever had.
He sat in his bed facing you "On your knees" he said as you complied, now level to his throbbing member, a bead of precum now gathering on the tip
"Suck it"
he said as you obliged. His lips wrapped around and sucked the bead off, earning a groan from him in response. Twirling your tongue around the head as you made your way further to take him whole , taking deep breaths in effort not to gag while you did so. Once he gave you permission you lifted your head, his dick twitching and leaking more fluid in response, the sight giving you all kinds of pleasure. It was like watching a fucking porn star, you swore you couldn't breathe as it sent shivers up your spine.
He pulled you up and onto his bed as his lips pushed against yours, his slender fingers making quick work of your shorts and panties, plunging two into your soaking heat, muttering against your lips "You're already so wet, you've been thinking about doing this have you slut? " his lilac eyes half lidded as his soft lips pressed against your neck, sucking and biting against the skin. "Tell me how badly you need this bitch..."
you moaned, his hand roaming your body as you moved your hips against his hand, his mouth moving towards your breasts as his hot breath warmed them. "Fuck... i-I need you scara" you moaned out , pulling away from your neck for air."Good" he breathed out as you felt the tip nudge against your hole
"you better be glad I'm inpatient tonight or I'd make you wait for it, you're mine now~" he murmured, thrusting once, then again into you. This caused you to let out another cry, feeling your stomach contract as your pussy clamped down on his cock, pushing your own arousal to greater heights, "Please...." you whimpered
"Please what? " he asked groaning some as his hips snap back against yours in a harsh pace, your cries now louder as your inner walls rubbed against the base of his cock, you tried to move back against him and he pulled away from you as you began to shake, feeling your legs trembling underneath you
"Please faster, deeper" you begged, moaning out as he growled, his hips picking up pace as his nails cut into your soft hips, arousal dripping down the length of his cock. He shoved harder as you bucked your hips, feeling your orgasm begin to build.
"Shit!" he grunted as he thrust into you as deep as possible, causing you to gasp and squirm underneath him, "Oh Fuck Y/N you're going to cum like a fucking whore" he groaned as he came inside you, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he continued to thrust into you, his breathing heavy as he held you close to him, his cock pulsating inside you. You felt your climax building as you felt your body tense up, your muscles clenching around him as you cried out loud. Your vision began turning white as you felt a small surge in your core as you finished your high. As the last wave left you, the pressure on your lower abdomen subsided, leaving you weak and exhausted as your entire body quivered.
His body laying besides yours, it didn't take long for you to smell that familar smell of cigarette smoke, His arm behind your head as your leaned against him. You both lay in silence, content to just lie there, listening to the faint sounds of partying.
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“Are you okay?” - sentence prompt
“Are you okay?” Demeter asks, shifting back to balance on her heels to survey her handiwork. The bulb above them shudders as the boards beneath her protest; she wonders how those are at all connected.
“I will be,” Alonzo affirms, wincing as he rolls his shirt back down over Demeter’s patch job. And it really was a patch; neither of them were trained in anything close to this kind of stuff, but both were certain her kitchen napkins were being grossly misused in this situation. Demeter had muttered something about stitches and Alonzo had snorted; as if you'd catch him within ten feet of a hospital. Demeter reads the implication between the statement lines silently, as she does anything else.
Alonzo looks put out - more like a child fallen from his new bicycle than a grown man attempting to uphold his dignity on a dirty linoleum floor on a Thursday evening. It would be funny in another circumstance. “Thanks.”
"You going to tell me what happened now?"
Alonzo hums, noncommittal. "I got in a fight."
"With?" Demeter prompts, folding her legs beneath her skirt.
Alonzo leans back against the cabinets; Demeter sees the muscles in his jaw clench. "Someone who brought a switchblade to a scuffle, obviously."
Demeter purses her lips, thoroughly displeased by the flippancy. "You don't think you owe me more than that?"
The chuckle that escapes from her companion is humourless; more like a noise of discomfort than anything resembling pleasantry. "I was just talking to this guy," he offers eventually, pointedly avoiding identifiers. "He said some things, I said some things back that may or may not have been about his mother. Boom, bang, you know how it is. Cops came, we scattered, that's all it is.” Alonzo punctuates his story by fishing around in his breast pocket - a signal he was done talking - and unearthing a nearly empty, crumpled box. He slips one of the cigarettes between his teeth, strikes the broken Diamond match, and makes to light it. Demeter figures that's all she'll get.
"I don't like when people disrespect you," he murmurs out of the side of his mouth before he holds the tip to flame. The statement is faint and quiet, like an exhale - so quiet Demeter almost thought she was hearing things; not an uncommon thing as of late. So quiet, in fact, she wonders if he'd realized he said anything at all as he blows the match out. It's the only context she needs. It settles heavily in her stomach, and a retort pinches beneath her tongue, but all that turns in her mind is how much older he had looked in the seconds illuminated in the flickering light; how Macavity doesn't like it when she smokes in the house.
Blood reblooms in a small poppy on the fabric of Alonzo's shirt.
“You want a drink?" Demeter prompts before the thought settles. She doesn't make any move to stand up. "I think I've got…something lying around."
The cigarette pauses halfway back to his lips, considering. Hesitating.
"Well…" Demeter notes how his eyes dart towards the door over her shoulder, and she holds her breath; Alonzo's smoke curls there in wait. There is something suffocatingly intimate about it; only then she realizes he wasn't bringing the cigarette back to himself - he was holding it out to her. She takes it.
"If you're offering...why not? I've already been stabbed once today."
Send me a sentence and I’ll fill at least five more in after it for a little mini-fic.
#i'm still alive#Alonzo#Demeter#Human!AU#demlonzo#fanfiction#my fanfic#jellicles ask because jellicles dare#anonymous#technically mob activity but it's not mentioned#human au because i can#set around the 1930s also because i can#you were stabbed LIGHTLY stabbed and in a non-critical area thanks#anything else is wholly implied but i think you can fill in the blanks#someone asked alonzo a question that may or may not have been both insulting and a if this gets back to macavity we're dead#also not that anyone cares but i keep hearing hozier's unknown/nth in my head rn
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Stardew After Dark - Elliot
✰ Stardew After Dark ✰
⋆ Snail's Directory ⋆
-> MINORS DNI
☆ Ever sexted with someone?
Yes but he sexts like an 1800s Romantic. He sends paragraphs—well written, very erotic paragraphs. He doesn’t expect the receiver to respond the same, lengthy way but he’ll be less turned on if it’s a bunch of emojis or something like that. Receiving pictures and a little flowery caption of what the other person wants, how he’s affecting them, and exactly what they’re doing in response to his words—he’s obsessed with the idea that his mere words (his writing) can get someone off.
☆ Do they watch porn? (Favorite category?)
Elliot does watch porn—but he’s picky. He would have been really into the tumblr gif-based porn because it’s sensual and artsy y’know? Also library flasher videos, outdoor sex, that kind of thing.
☆ What non-sexy thing turns them on?
Smoking. He can’t help it, he knows cigarettes are bad but people look so hot while smoking them. Also loves smoking the good kush, finds sharing a joint to be very intimate–the pseudo kiss of an object passed between lips–has tried the thing where you breathe smoke into another person’s mouth.
☆ What was Elliot's first experience with cock warming?
He whined as his partner shifted, reaching for her book now that she was settled in his lap.
“Focus, El,” she chided, her breath hot on his ear. He could hear the smirk in her voice. They sat facing each other, chests touching, her arms over his shoulders as she read. Behind her he stared at the laptop atop the tray table on the bed. Her legs were slung over his, crossed behind his back, keeping herself anchored on his cock. He tried to keep his breathing even, typing out a few words he wasn’t sure actually made sense.
He was supposed to be writing but all he could think about was the wet heat of her cunt enveloping him. Elliot didn’t think he’d ever been so hard—this was torture. But that was sort of the point, wasn’t it? To sit, consumed, on the brink of pleasure?
She chuckled at something in the book, her core tensing, squeezing for just a moment. He let out a low groan, nails digging into her lower back. He needed to finish this chapter.
☆ Wildest sex story?
This man has participated in more than one orgy. The wildest was in a tiny bathroom they somehow managed to sneak four people into. He still doesn’t know how they all fit, let alone how everyone was able to maneuver such complete debauchery. He came out of that with someone else’s shirt on.
☆ Sexual fantasy they would most hesitate to bring up?
He’s got a (consensual) voyeurism kink alright—he wouldn’t do this outside of a scenario. He wants to watch his partner through the window. For the partner to be totally naked in bed, completely exposed to him, and to watch them get off. With the farmer, there’s enough privacy for him to get himself off as well.
☆ Favorite sexual fantasy?
Outdoor sex, particularly while hiking. He wants to bend his partner over any available surface or get on his knees at any available opportunity.
☆ Ever improvised when they had no sex toys?
Remember, you can’t put anything up your ass that doesn’t have a flared base.
In addition, a diy flesh light can come together with just a condom, a sponge, and an empty pringles can.
Honestly though, I don’t feel like Elliot would ever be in a situation where he needed a toy and didn’t have one.
#snailssdv#elliot#sdv elliot#stardew valley#sdv n/s/f/w elliot#elliot s/mut#sdv n/s/f/w#stardew valley lemon#keeping it old school with that one lol
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So curious from your reblog - how is smoking a metaphor for gay sex in your writing?
My brain kinda jumps through hoops and muddles lines so I end up connecting things which don't really have a connection, but I'll try and explain it the best I can. Sorry if I end up offending anyone or something, wasn't intended, etc.
I think it kinda links back to the idea of what is considered taboo and to opium dens in the 19th century? Like opium dens were generally in the bad parts of town and I associate that with gay sex mainly because of The Picture of Dorian Grey when he felt this really strong desire to go to the dens and just get high. I kind of read this as a metaphor for the desire for gay sex, particularly with the homoerotic tones of the book because it was this thing that was common — people knew about it — but in a lot of social circles it was frowned upon? It's been a while since I read Picture but theres a kind of vulgarity to Dorian's need for drugs which my brain connected with gay sex. Tabacco is obviously a drug and so I made the connection between one addiction and another and thus gay sex, etc.
Moving forward, the wide-spread smoking of the 80s and 90s and the fact that a lot of the stories I begin writing take place during this time, surrounding queer characters usually who do drugs or smoke, kinda just reinforces it. I kinda accidentally trained by own brain here and so it became a link in my brain. There's also the obvious link with cigarettes being called fags in the uk especially where most media I end up consuming is from.
There's an element of hedonism to smoking (this links more back into drugs, but smoking too) and the pursuit of pleasure which links back to Dionysus who was very queer in Greek mythos. Gay sex has also largely been perceived as an upper-class thing in the past simply because that's what we have sources on and the upper-class is notoriously hedonistic, particularly queer circles from the 19th century until WWII which means the two kind of again, connect in my brain. So I'm basically saying that historically, gay sex is hedonistic as is smoking because of surviving historical evidence and what we see portrayed in media. (Note: I'm saying 19th century because that's when being gay was actually outlawed in the uk and not just a dot point under sodomy and/or buggery.)
Finally, the intimacy of a cigarette is something that I don't think is unfamiliar, e.g. lighting a cigarette for someone (either by lighting two in your mouth at the same time or cupping someone else's hands to light, etc.), sharing a cigarette with someone or spending time while smoking together, and of course post-coital smoking. There's something very intimate and social about smoking (which is why I think it became so popular in the first place) and so I often use it as a moment of intimacy in my writing even between straight characters or characters who aren't necessarily romantically or sexually connected.
In a long winded way, what I'm trying to say is the cigarette and smoking represent desire and gay sex is repressed desire. So by using the cigarette and a conversation that borders on flirtatious, you can play around with sex without actually saying anything explicit and your audience can get a gist of this desire. I think I do this more often than not because I prefer to write historical fiction and so the characters are often placed in an environment where they can't voice or act as we would today while still remaining polite.
I probably explained it quite poorly but that's how my brain is making these connections and it's weird actually voicing something that usually I don't think twice about. Thanks for the ask! <33
#succumbing to the cycle of history bcs almost everything i write is set pre 2000s#and also bcs i use smoking as a metaphor for gay sex#<- based on those tags from ops post that I reblogged#(the cycle of history is the romanticisation of smoking btw)#writing#ask#lowkey wrote an essay on this ngl but deal <33#thank you for the ask!#ive never smoked or done anything other than my prescription drugs and it shows
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I am not hungry anymore
A ritual.
A couple of cigarettes, water, 1 AM. The streets are vacant, just like I love them, except for the occasional lurkers at the Cafes, killing time so it won't kill them. I am one of those.
I go back to the office, I figure I have enough time to sit down, and scribble, yet another text about her. 4, 5th time ? No one got this much posts in my blog. Except for her.
24 days of static. Zilch. Not a single word exchanged past that weird conversation in which I confessed that I always liked her, then a diplomatic, generic rejection, afterwards, the very useless information that someone had a crush on me from the start. Someone else, who was her friend. I wish I cared.
I don't know what I am wishing to fulfil writing this. Closure ? For what ? Organising my thoughts ? Organised flawlessly. I just have been feeling that mystical urge to spit my soul unto a digital paper, and before talking to her again, (only because I said I'll be a good sport and hold no hard feelings (none to behold after all)), I needed to finish it with this.
It all started that day. We had spent 4 solid years without talking to each other. 2 of those while we lived in the same town. No one walked the extra step of finding the other, and we were perfectly fine with that. I was healing from another relationship and surviving in settings that challenged my very soul, and she was with someone else.
That day, I felt I was poked in a certain fashion that would suggest to the most cynical that she might be interested in me. And that was the final shove that nudged me over that edge, on which I was already standing. Suddenly I remembered how beautiful she is, how intelligently humorous she was, and how gracefully she carried herself. Suddenly she was all I could think of. I found it in my heart to be able to see someone in that light, once again, after so fucking long.
More importantly, if there is a winner in all of this, and despite how arrogant and cruelly funny it may sound, it is me. Seeing her in that light and projecting myself with someone like her made me see a lot around me. It's like this gigantic floodlight that has been cast unto my life. A lot of my routine has changed, I went back to sport, to prayer, to consistent writing. I killed time, and did it effectively, after so many rounds lost during which I danced in the abyss, with ghosts.
Yet, I feel like I was being a little bit played with. It may come across as an exaggeration, but why girls always say stuff they do not mean ? Why the fucking mixed signals ? What's up with the intimate questions, and the promises of fake plans ? At least I know the answer now, but it is not as if I wanted to exhibit interest in a friend who lives overseas, years after we shared the same town and nothing had already happened. It is already a dead end that even if I wanted to walk, she would not.
Do we really mean it when we say we are friends ? Can you go 4 years without talking to a "good friend" ? Not even once you'd ask about their lives, whether they are well or no ? I believe that we were never good friends. Well at some point in time, but then we simply disappeared from each other's lives. Do I really mean it when I say I am interested in being her friend ? I do not know. It is not vital for me. Never has been.
I was watching the show we accidentally discovered we both adore. Two of my favourite characters started kissing. The woman looked nothing like her, and there I was, imagining another man unbuttoning her shirt, grabbing her waist, and torridly kissing her lips until they both run out of breath. I felt, like shit. The whole point of someone else, being enough for her, someone who would share her life, and not me, stroke me like an incoming locomotive at full speed. I was in awe of where that thought came from.
I am almost certain that this would prepare me for something better down the road, and I am very happy that now I have a proof that eventually, someone would spark my interest, and pluck my chords in the right order. It has been so long that I thought that part of me broke forever. I am also very glad I broke up with my old ways. Sometimes when I remember how I used to spend my day, I want to throw up. I would cut myself some slack after all, because I believe that certain settings are favourable for blossom, while others suffocate the living soul out. Unequivocally I fall into the latter category. But I simply do not care anymore.
I just can't throw away the thought that we would make a hell of a match. I still believe that. The only difference is that I do not want it anymore.
Now I don't care what the future holds
As long as I love and grow old
I always thought that I would die
If I didn't have you by my side
But I've changed my mind
Yeah, I've changed my mind
Been feeling like myself more than ever before
And now I don't even know what I need you for
Been feeling like myself more than ever before
And now I'm not hungry
I'm not hungry for love, your love anymore
Now I feel like myself, myself
More than ever before
Marina & The Diamonds - I Am Not Hungry Anymore
#thoughts of mage#mage#spilled thoughts#poets on tumblr#writeblr#random thoughts#thoughts of a mage#excerpt from a book i'll never write#writers on tumblr#spilled ink#spilled words#writers and readers#writerscafe#i have a crush#love thoughts#rejection#optimism#vulnerable#poetsandwriters#writersociety#writes#writebrl
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if you spent your whole life taking bodies to their graves, how does that change how you comprehend death?
do you see bodies as people, anymore?
or is everything in this world just as mundane and colorless as their tired, sunken skin?
when you see only closed eyes,
do you imagine what color they might’ve been?
do you try to peak under the lids and see?
are you afraid of the groundskeeper seeing you, beating dead horses,
opening dead people’s eyes so that their soul knows the way,
how could you explain yourself?
if you spent your whole life as grave robber, is it the same?
do you speak to the bodies in the coffins you’re stealing from?
or are they just large, in your way?
do you stop and listen to the stories history can tell you, or do you see only the shallow glow of gold?
do you hear the whispers while you’re down there in the Earth?
or do you just see clock hands?
when the police search your pockets in the sunlight,
when they find so much more than just spare change and cigarettes,
how could you explain yourself?
i have no explanation for the shovels and pick axes i carry with me.
i have nothing to offer for the bodies i’ve dug up, only to drag around with me.
i spend my whole life staring at ghosts across the table,
and to me, they are not people anymore.
how do i tell you that i love the bodies more than their souls?
i love what was taken from them, the ideas of what they could’ve been,
but mostly i do not care for those who are already on their way to heaven.
i worry not about those who have already made the great escape.
but at their graves, i mourn for their bodies.
love and grief, to me, could be such fantastical, untouchable strangers,
things that will never be.
if you spent your whole life deep in the cigar fog of south western casinos,
would you ever tire of being a card shark,
or playing tricks on all your friends?
would you mourn the trust you could’ve had in them, that they could’ve had in you?
would you crack a smile, every so often, just to find weaknesses in someone else’s poker face?
or would you wrinkle just like that,
with some unkind scowl painted on what could’ve been the prettiest face in the room?
if you spend your nights trying to hunt down betrayal,
calculate it, understand it,
will you ever find peace?
when even the lotus flower sours and wilts,
when you fold at the last moment,
and your reflection is forced upon you in an escort’s pocket mirror,
how could you explain yourself?
if you spent your whole life on the most beautiful, glittering stage in the desert,
would you envy every audience that gets to stare you down?
would you long to be human,
to be real,
to be touched?
or would you make your peace with the god of beauty, and use your body as a sacrifice?
could you stomach the feeling of human hands on your chest,
if you know you are made of linen?
sewn up tight, painted red, and kissed on the mouth?
could you be a perfect snow globe ballerina?
or when the lights come up after a drunken matinee,
when you stumble into the dressing room;
dirty glass in one hand, money in the other,
when you face the other idols who have paid penance to be worth something,
how could you explain yourself?
i couldn’t.
somewhere i lost the art of being untouchable.
my residency ends, and i am still not made out of stainless steel.
no perfect machine; i still have this red heart in my chest,
though it is colder now.
i thought once that i could earn it; that statuesque, faultless indifference.
beauty is real, but reserved for those with spines,
and i am a bad liar.
i am tied together with something weaker than deceit.
i have blood, i have bone.
understanding is a distant truth,
either taken, or earned with a backbreaking price i am not cut out to pay.
love and fear sleep together in an intimate bed,
and it is cold in that room,
until one of them rolls over and, head on chest, says what the other can’t.
this is a draft, ten eleven || how could you explain yourself?
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i see fire (blood in the breeze)
AO3 Mirror
Nicotine is bitter on her tongue. It was like alcohol— an acquired taste. You had to get used to it.
But she’s done this for awhile now, it’s nothing to worry about. She inhaled, took all the smoke into her lungs, breathed it out.
With the cold wind of Kyrat blowing onto her skin, Bhadra’s surprised that the cigarette in her hand doesn’t go out immediately. She didn’t have any good clothes to help her keep warm, she did this to herself after all. It tastes bad. It doesn’t pass well in her throat.
But why does it feel so good?
She didn’t really have to know why that was the case. That was okay in her book; people knew she smoked and never really bothered to do anything about it— except the religious ones, who always reprimanded her. She couldn’t help it. It felt good. It let her feel relaxed, dropping all the heaviness from her shoulders and into the void below.
She was sitting on the edge of Banapur’s terraces where the cliff started. It was the middle of the night, everybody except the soldiers who should’ve been keeping tabs hours ago was asleep or at least trying to be.
Bhadra lost faith in sleeping awhile ago too. She was used to the sound of gunfire. The sound of explosions— not even in the distance, but right when she was nearby. If Kyrat didn’t want her to sleep she decided to follow that too. Migraines would sometimes make her head throb, the light would sting, and as heavy as her eyelids felt there was nothing to come to in her sleep except nightmares and her waking up, shocked at the way she sees their faces.
Her friends. Her family. The more time went on she’d forget how they’d look and in her dreams they’d become more and more distorted as the nightmares went on.
The smell of death, a rotten corpse or the sound of gunfire, she was used to it. This is what normal was in their world, but the only thing that bridged her between normal worlds was the cigarettes she would steal in order to relieve her some of the stress. She’s seen other kids do it, other kids who would take to the extreme, injecting heroin into their veins with dirty needles. That wasn’t going to be her thing, was it?
For now, this would be enough. This would be fine.
As she looked back to her cigarette, it was already half way burnt out. She’d been up for hours and nobody had come looking or walking around. Instead of waiting for it, she just got up, crushing the cigarette on the ground with her shoe and walked back up the terraces.
The cigarettes, they help when she’s stuck thinking.
She doesn’t just sense the concept of death. She thinks of it too; unable to be close to people she could lose in a matter of seconds. The pit in her stomach would feel full with discomfort as she thought about the way people sat with her and had a good chat with her, how the soldiers she would sit and drink with would wind up dead on the battlefield. She’d seen it all, nothing would really surprise her. No gunshot would make her flinch, no explosion would make her scream. She could be afraid for her own life, but for anybody else it just wasn’t there.
Everybody’s lost someone and something in this war. Bhadra’s lost so many people that she’d lost count.
Was she a monster for not being able to feel for them?
Was she a bad person if she never cried for them or looked at their dead eyes?
She didn’t really know. All she does is sense it, taking it all in, between the stench, the twitching of flesh as the nerves were giving out, the deafening shots intimately close to her ears. She was halfway tempted to light the next cigarette again on her way back, but she’d found another cigarette in hand and decided to light it before she could think.
The smell of the burning was a good one. The smell of the burning was a better one, always tasting better than before. None of the elders, or Sabal, would approve of this, but the soldiers wouldn’t care, neither would Amita. They understood what it was like to breathe it all away if such a thing were possible.
In the future, Bhadra wondered, maybe she could stop it and go to a school. She would take in the cold air into her lungs and invite her friends to play games with her in the fields, and she’d come home to eat snacks with a boy she wanted to get close to. She’s seen it on TV, the stuff that didn’t get banned still showed what the outside world was like and she thought about how it would remove the feeling of her stomach and make her chest ache. Was it happiness that she felt for the thoughts? Was it just bittersweet envy?
She didn’t know.
She couldn’t know.
Nicotine filled her lungs once more.
Routine was this: breathe in slowly, try not to let it choke you. Breathe out slowly, make sure it’s past your throat.
It didn’t really scratch her throat as much as she thought.
It didn’t really take much for her to get used to it— after all, this was Kyrat. This was her home. This was the place that raised her. She was used to anything it was going to give her, why stop at there? She wouldn’t know what else she could do while the world died around her except wait for it to take her too. Being afraid didn’t matter when it was going to happen eventually.
She stared at the lighter in her hand, constantly clicking it on and off as she took the cigarette out her mouth and breathed out all the smoke.
The nicotine was better on her tongue.
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SUKUNA LIGHTING YOUR CIGARETTE WITH HIS OH MY GAWWWWWWWDDDDDDD I CANTTT
just imagine
he leans over, smirk evident on his tainted yet elegant face.
“do you mind?” the cigarette moved as his mouth moved, the sharp teeth of his mouth distracting your gaze.
“hm?” you mumble, eyes tracing over his lips, your cigarette almost falling off in the process.
sukuna chuckled, using his finger to push your cigarette back into your mouth.
“you distracted, huh?” the tips of his lips curled upwards, as his eyes got closer and closer until suddenly, your cigarette is lit.
“o-oh,” you stutter. you’re still trying to grasp onto reality and your gaze glasses over as you mutter to yourself.
he simply watches, bemused at your reaction. sharp and narrow eyes slitted as they observed you, with no malicious intent.
he was simply studying you, like a creature he used to read about in his mountains of books.
is it possible i love her? he muses. no, he shakes his head. impossible.
*fucking dies*
#hHHH i literally have nothing to add to this oh my god#hhhh#neighbor sukuna#jjk posting#there is something. so INTIMATE about even lighting a cigarette for someone else with a lighter#but with your own it just seems even moreso#it's sukuna laying a claim on you without doing anything so louche as SAYING you're his#big fingers covered with rings the stud through his tongue the way his eyes glint almost red in the evening light#as smoke plumes billow in soft clouds from both of your balconies#AAAA#smoking ///m
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REUNION ft. Ryujin
ryujin x male reader smut
7k words
You've always been weak for girls with pretty eyes, but Ryujin's eyes, illuminated by the embers of your cigarette, both absorbing and intensifying the light of the fire, hypnotises you. Her gaze remains on you through her inhale; sharp and curious, as if you were just an interesting book she'd pulled off her shelf.
The moment ends painfully soon, and she steps back, cigarette well lit, a cloud of smoke the only thing separating the two of you.
It's the most intimate you've been with a girl in months.
--
You've always hated reunions.
People you barely know, talking up lives you don't care about, all for the purpose of attempting to rub their success in their peers' faces and stress the fact that no, high school wasn't the peak of their lives.
It hasn't even been that long since you graduated high school to warrant a reunion in the first place!
It doesn't help that this is yet another get together where everyone else came with a partner to parade around except you. So yes, you're bitter - bitter, and a little bit drunk - but your point still stands regardless.
Ruefully, you check your phone, hoping for a message, a smoke signal - anything, but knowing full well that you've been stood up by someone you thought was a sure thing.
No matter how many times it happened, getting ghosted still fucking hurt.
Still, you'd rather be outside in the cold, with nothing to keep you warm except the cigarette balanced between your fingers, than indoors, back in the barbeque restaurant faced with looks of either pity or ridicule.
You take a long drag, wondering how long you can make this cigarette last, wondering if it'll be long enough for you to muster up the will to go back inside. Would there even be a point in going back in?
"You're fucking ridiculous!" Your thoughts are rudely interrupted, as Ryujin bursts through the entrance to the restaurant behind you, her face beet red with anger and alcohol.
You pity whoever is on the receiving end of her barrage.
"You told me - you promised me - that you'd make it this time!" Her voice gets louder with each word, and even though you were here first, you feel like you're the one intruding on something incredibly personal.
You decide to stay where you are and enjoy the show, content to watch Ryujin curse creatively into the phone. It's almost educational, as she seems to find new, innovative ways to tell whoever it is how badly they fucked up.
A boyfriend, you figure - only a partner could warrant that level of berating.
You had heard that Ryujin had a boyfriend, even though she always came to these class reunions solo. You had always assumed it was just a lie she used to politely turn down the few nostalgic guys who had gained enough liquid courage to confess to their high school crush.
Truthfully, you couldn't blame them. After all, you were no different - she was the reason you still came to these things.
For as long as you've known Ryujin, she's always been the girl. The girl everyone wanted to either befriend or be with - brains, beauty, and a surprisingly crass sense of humour - she's always had it all.
Even tonight, swearing up a storm in front of a nearly rundown restaurant; underneath the moonlight - she looks effervescent.
It's impossible not to be attracted to her effortless beauty - the confidence she carries herself with, the natural smile which curves her red lips, the hint of creamy thighs glimpsed between knee-high boots and denim shorts, the swell of breasts peaking from underneath her baggy jacket, and her ass - God, you're way too horny.
"Do you mind if I -?" Ryujin asks, and you are snapped out of your reverie to find her standing in front of you, gesturing towards the cigarette dangling from your fingers.
Without a thought, you open your pack, passing over your last cigarette.
She takes it, flipping it over and slips it between her red lips, and takes a step closer to you.
"Light me?"
You raise your own smoke in response, letting her take another step closer to you, so close that it'd be awkward to look anywhere but deep into her eyes.
You've always been weak for girls with pretty eyes, but Ryujin's eyes, illuminated by the embers of your cigarette, both absorbing and intensifying the light of the fire, hypnotises you. Her gaze remains on you through her inhale; sharp and curious, as if you were just an interesting book she'd pulled off her shelf.
The moment ends painfully soon, and she steps back, cigarette well lit, a cloud of smoke the only thing separating the two of you.
It's the most intimate you've been with a girl in months.
"Another reunion, and it looks like it's just the two of us alone again." Ryujin is first to break the silence. "I suppose you heard all that on the phone."
"Yeah," you respond.
"You must think I'm insane." A sad smile appears on Ryujin's gorgeous face and it makes your heart ache.
"I'd say you're… passionate."
Ryujin absorbs your words and takes another long drag of her cigarette. She looks up, staring up at the night sky and the stars which hung overhead. Even the stars are incomparable to her. "Why'd you step out?"
"It's a bit much," you admit. "Everyone and all their partners in there, I mean."
"I thought you were bringing someone?"
You fidget with the cigarette between your fingers. "Ghosted."
"That… sucks," Ryujin replies, and you refuse to look at her then, unwilling to see pity in such pretty eyes. "You know, I was surprised to see you single for so long. How long were you together?"
"This would've been our third date."
"You brought a girl to a high school reunion on your third date?" Ryujin asks, incredulously.
"I know, I know. But she seemed nice - and I was looking forward to just bringing someone for once. Every single time, it's the same jokes, you know?"
"Still. I don't care how cute you are. Third date."
Did she just call you cute? "Yeah, yeah. What about you - heard you bagged some rich guy?"
"Do you see some rich guy standing around?"
"Was he the guy on the phone?"
"Got it in one," Ryujin says with some finality. A silence falls upon the two of you, and she takes another drawn-out drag of her dwindling cigarette. "I'm pretty sure he's cheating on me."
"Wow," is all you can say. "That… sucks."
Ryujin smirks at your choice of words. "Sure does." She disposes of her cigarette in a nearby ashtray, and turns to leave, "we better head back inside, I guess. The only two single people alone outside - don't want them to get any ideas. "
If only. "I think I'm just gonna leave."
Ryujin immediately protests. "What, and leave me here with all these -" she pauses, as if about to say a dirty word, "- lovebirds?"
"I kind of have some business to take care of at home." You shrug, trying to articulate your need to leave without explicitly articulating your need to leave.
"What kind of business could you have so late?"
"Today was, well - I was planning to have someone to spend the night with, you know, third date. It's been a seriously long time and…" Fuck it, no pussyfooting around it. "To be completely honest, I'm backed up as hell."
Ryujin blinks, and part of you wants to take out your phone to take a photo of the gobsmacked expression on her face as her mind works overtime to interpret what you just said. And then she laughs. Really laughs. Her face transforms and lights up, and you’re instantly enraptured in how beautiful she looks as she full belly laughs at your predicament. The pretty laugh is so contagious that you can't help but be caught by it and join in.
"I'm not kidding - it's a serious problem. I was saving up for tonight, you know?"
"Where was this guy in high school? I had no idea you were such a dog." Ryujin says, between laughs. "You're really horny, aren't you?"
"I was probably even more horny in high school," you admit, deciding that you were too far along to stop being honest. "Still, I think you're laughing a little too hard."
"Sorry, no one's made me laugh like that in a while." Ryujin wipes away the tears around her eyes, still giggling to herself at your apparent suffering.
"Glad I could cheer you up."
"It's not like I don't know where you're coming from. I thought being in a relationship meant I could get it whenever I wanted. It's been so fucking long since I've had a good fuck!" Ryujin stamps her foot, a show of anger that is laughably cute. "Today I was gonna give that dumbass one last chance. I was really going to make it worth his while too, you know? I was even going to let him - "
And then a thought occurs to you. One too obvious of an opportunity that it'd be stupid not to voice it. You're not sure if it's the alcohol talking, but for the second time of the night, you decide mentally to say, fuck it. "Ryujin."
"Yes?"
"We're both pent up. You look really fucking hot tonight. Why don't we just go home and fuck each other's brains out?" To be fair, it sounded better in your head.
Ryujin stares at you for a beat, a strange, imperceptible look on her immaculate features. If you had to guess, the closest expression you could relate it to would be - hunger? "Look -"
"You're getting cheated on, I'm getting ghosted," you say, arguing your case. "One way or another I'm going to go home and handle my problem, it just might be more fun if I had some assistance."
"No. Look." Ryujin grabs the collar of her top, pulling it down to reveal a sheer, black bra. She pulls her top down just low enough for you to see the top half of her bra, it's fabric is so thin that it's practically transparent, only serving to tint the milky-white flesh underneath. It's just a glimpse, but you long to see more of Ryujin's bare skin, and all the other mysteries hidden beneath her clothes. "This is the first time I've worn this bra. It's part of a matching set."
Your cigarette falls from your fingers.
"So, I've got these on and everything. And since you've saved up so much - it'd be a shame to waste it on your hand, right?"
"I'll order the car."
--
Mere seconds pass between the door slamming behind you and you slamming Ryujin against the wall of the entrance hall of her apartment. Ryujin lets out a slight yelp when her back hits the wall, but just as you begin to worry, she grins at you, face awash with exhilaration at the show of force and excitement at the promise of what is to come.
She grabs a handful of your t-shirt, pulling you into her and forcing your lips onto hers. Ryujin's kisses are deep and passionate - you had already spent the whole ride in the backseat of the car duelling tongues with her, and you didn't intend to stop anytime soon. She kisses with urgency and desperation, crushing your lips with her own, tongue pressing its way into your mouth, filling it with the bittersweet taste of peach-flavoured soju.
She takes two fistfuls of your shirt and drags it upwards, forcing you to lift your arms up. She's much shorter than you and needs your help to get it over your head, but even before you've tossed it to the side, she pounces on your body. She lays kisses against your skin, her tongue treading dangerous ground across your chest.
She seems intent on leaving no part of your body unexplored, of marking you, marking her territory. She lays her teeth into you, smiling to herself as she bites into your nipple. She digs her nails into your skin, and all the while she makes sure to keep her eyes on you, watching every reaction of pain and pleasure she can get from you. Her kisses lead her down your chest, down the trail leading towards your bellybutton, further down, until her teeth meets the waistband of your jeans.
Ryujin works quickly - there's no tenderness or care for your personal well-being, just raw, animalistic want. She sinks to her knees, eyes solely focused on your hidden bulge, and in moments your belt, your jeans and underwear are down to your ankles in a single, swift motion. She leaves it to you to kick away your shoes and remaining clothes, entirely absorbed in admiring your near-stiffened erection.
"You really are all pent-up, aren't you?" Ryujin says, practically salivating at your cock suspended before her. "Lucky I'm here to help you out."
A tingle shoots through your spine the instant she grasps your cock for the first time, and like that - you're under her spell. You can feel the pre-cum begin to leak from your tip, and it's the light kiss that she places on you that nearly causes your knees to give way.
Despite the fact that she's the one on her knees, it's clear to you both that she's the one in control, and with one hand on your cock and the other on your thigh, it's her turn to push your back against the wall.
"You know," Ryujin says, her grip on your cock tightening and beginning to torturously stroke up and done your length, "it's been so long since I've sucked such a good cock."
"Your boyfriend must be the biggest dumbass in the world."
"Don't fucking mention him tonight," she fires back, harsher than you expected, hitting you like a slap against your face. "The only thing I want to be thinking about right now is how good your cum is going to taste."
Ryujin devours you.
Your breath is stolen from your lungs in a groan louder than you expected, as you're engulfed by Ryujin's hot mouth. One second your cock is level with Ryujin's face, and the next the entire length is down to her throat, her nose pressed against your base, her eyes watering against your stomach.
Her lips form a vacuum-seal around you, and she holds herself against your thighs, making it impossible for you to do anything but to hold on to locks of her dyed-blonde hair, doing your absolute best to not explode in her mouth then and there.
Both regrettably and thankfully, the overwhelming feeling of her throat wrapped around your cock ends, as she backs off, inch by agonising inch slipping out of the wetness of her mouth. She leaves your cock stained with the red of her lipstick and lathered in her spit, a long string of saliva still connecting her lips to your cock once it is relinquished from her mouth.
"Turns out I can fit something this big down my throat." Ryujin unceremoniously wipes away the spit from her lips, barely giving you a moment's respite before her hand is back on your cock again, and now her tongue, tantalisingly wet and warm, begins to swirl around the head of your cock.
She reaches around with a free hand and cradles your balls in her hand, skilfully balancing them in her palm, somehow finding the exact spot to bring your cock to an impossible hardness.
Her other hand pumps at your shaft, matching pace with her mouth, no longer bothering with reaching the base of your cock. Ryujin's achingly talented with her tongue, making heavenly movements across the underside of your shaft, around the tip of your cock, across the slit of its head.
Her eyes are no longer on you, her entire being is focused on the task at hand, her only goal is to keep you trapped in the immense pleasure of her mouth, now picking up into a frantic pace up and down your length.
"Mmmmmfff," Ryujin moans around your cock, and you realise that the hand that was fondling your balls is now buried deep within her shorts, no doubt pleasuring herself while she performed on you.
"Tell me," Ryujin asks, mouth leaving your cock, tongue finding your balls. "Tell me how long you've wanted me."
"Ryujin, I -" You can barely form words as her tongue dances skilfully on the underside of your balls.
"How long have you wanted me just like this?" Ryujin continues her assault, moaning into you as her hands move deeper down her own shorts and her strokes become even quicker. "On my knees, worshipping this amazing cock."
"I’ve always wanted it!" You gasp, as Ryujin switches back to laying hot kisses up and down your length.
"Do you want to know a secret?" She pumps your cock vigorously, eyes locked on yours, delighting in the clear evidence written on your face of how good she is making you feel. "I've always wanted you to fuck me too."
Ryujin dives back onto you, and you lose yourself in her - lose yourself in her hand wrapped around you, lose yourself in her mouth moving up and down your cock, lose yourself in the sight of your dream girl on her knees before you, lost in the pleasure of just getting to suck your cock.
You're not sure how long you spend lost under the spell of Ryujin's divine mouth - seconds, minutes, eternity - but when you come to, your cock is buried again in the back of her throat, Ryujin's tongue flat against your balls, and her eyes closed in what seems to be blissful pleasure.
She moans delightfully around you, content to let you fuck her face while her hand works at a fevered pace against her own pussy.
The mere sight of her - teary-eyed, make-up running, drooling around your cock - unlocks the part of your brain that runs on raw instinct and desire - to control, to dominate, to fuck.
Your hands tighten in her hair, and seeing the need in her eyes, you roughly pump in and out of her plump, red lips. She bends to your will as easily as you bent to hers before, her fingernails dig into your thighs, spurring you on to use her, to use her face, her throat, her sole purpose being a receptacle for your cock.
"Ummmmmphh…" She groans against you but never gags, her lips sealed tight and refusing to let go, her tongue still expertly working around your merciless spears into her mouth. She drinks you in, a perfect partner to your abuse of her throat, adjusting her mouth at the right angles to fit more of you in with each thrust.
She pushes past each of your barriers of resistance, as if somehow feeling the tension in your body as you hopelessly hold back your inevitable climax. You can feel her wrestle control from you, becoming less about you fucking her face, and her devouring your cock.
"Ryujin, I'm gonna - "
She keeps you in a wild tempo, the slickness of her mouth easily sliding you down her throat, your cock already well lubricated by her spit. She sucks you in, can feel you getting close, can feel your legs begin to give way, and she wraps her arms around the back of your thighs, grabbing your ass and forcing you to push, push as deep as you can down her throat.
A rush overcomes you, a feeling of falling, a free, swan-dive off the highest mountain and down into the filth of Ryujin's mouth. You're brought back down to Earth at the first spurt that shoots from you - thick, hot ropes of cum firing down Ryujin's throat. You can feel her throat contract and expand around your length, gratefully swallowing down the first, the second, and third successive shots of cum into her.
She takes it all with glee, a beautiful picture of a girl made into a miraculous mess of tears, make-up, drool, and cum.
Your spent cock falls out of her mouth with a pop, and Ryujin remains on her knees, pulling you into her gaze, making sure you see her swallow all your cum down. She performatively thrusts her tongue out, like a pet at your feet, showing you that she's finished her meal.
You mirror the knowing grin on her face, acknowledgement that she made your night, hell she made your year.
You collapse against the wall, leaning against it to brace yourself, but Ryujin follows after you, laying sweet kisses on your well-used cock, cleaning the remaining dribbles of cum and saliva dripping off it.
Absent-mindedly, you stroke Ryujin's hair, while she makes sure to do a thorough job - licking your cock up and down, over the surface area of your balls, up and around your shaft, even to your base, until it's covered in a generous sheen of her saliva. Eventually, Ryujin decides your cock is well cleaned, and rises to her feet, stepping back against the opposite wall of the hallway, standing in full in front of you.
"Fuck, Ryujin," is all your brain can come up with in its post-orgasm haze.
"Night's not over yet." Ryujin lets her jacket fall from her shoulders, before bending down to unzip the sides of her boots. Each move is purposeful, performative, like a planned routine to show you each inch of skin in the exact way to drive you mad with lust.
And it works.
She traces a hand up her delicious legs, taking her time to find the hem of her tank top. You've held your suspicions - Ryujin had always been athletic since you've known her - but now, with her baggy jacket on her floor, and her toned arms revealing inch by tantalising inch of porcelain skin, you finally get to see Ryujin's upper body in full.
You stare hungrily at the sight of her slim waist and tight abs, her body much closer to the graceful physique of an elite dancer than an average twenty-year-old. She finishes pulling the top over a pair of breasts that you get a strong suspicion would fit perfectly in your hands, or better yet, your mouth. You get your second look of the night at the bra she previewed earlier - it's function only being to keep her already pert breasts held up and together. The fabric's too thin and practically see-through, but has a dark floral design sewed in, coincidentally covering just where her nipples would be.
You see your own lust mirrored in her eyes, unashamedly drinking in your own body, willing your cock to begin to stir and recover its vigour.
"I did promise you'd see the whole set," Ryujin replies coyly, but she's already bouncing on her toes, clearly excited to show off what lies underneath her tight shorts. Gracefully, she spins around, facing her flat, defined back towards you, and just as slowly as she removed her top, she begins to peel off her black shorts.
You stand there, frozen, entirely consumed in watching the reveal of Ryujin's perfectly sculpted ass. Her ass bounces generously once it's freed from its denim prison, and you do your best to burn to memory the moment when Ryujin bends over in full, her ass completely upright, sheer lingerie matching her bra, barely covering vanilla skin, made even more transparent by the wetness that has clearly soaked through.
You're behind her before she's even standing again, and you're treated with a sensual moan that escapes her mouth when you press your now growing erection into the crevasse between her two ass cheeks.
You feel her near-naked body, run your hands up her waist, feel her grind back against your cock, her moans encouraging you to reach further upwards and grasp her breasts. She rolls her hips back against you, determined to massage your cock back to its full length.
"Strip me," she says, more of a command than a request, but you nevertheless do her the generous favour of obeying. You unclasp the bra behind her, and she lets it fall off her shoulders and to the floor below her.
You draw a moan from her as you realise your previous assessment to be correct - her breasts are perfect fits for your hands; small mounds, nipples already taut and erect, her young body aroused underneath your touch.
You play with her breasts, enjoying the feeling of simply balancing them in the palm of your hands, how the texture of her nipples feel between your fingers, the satisfied sighs and purrs she makes as you grind against her.
The feeling of her ass against your cock is too good - dangerously good - and you make the decision to return the favour she had granted you, kissing a trail down the back of her spine, feeling the goose bumps on her skin against your lips, the tension of her back muscles as you slowly sink to your knees behind her.
Ryujin seems to read your intentions, pushing her ass back ever-so-slightly for you to easily slide the tight fabric off her ass, and down her thick, creamy thighs. You can't help but lap at the juices already dripping down her thighs, dragging your tongue up the inside of her.
She bends back further, ensuring her full pussy lips are available for you to find with the flat of your tongue.
"Oooooh…" Ryujin braces herself against the wall as you make the most of her offering, tongue lapping up and down the folds of her pussy. You want to take your time, need to make the most of Ryujin's pussy, breathing in her tight ass as you plunge your tongue deep inside her.
She moans deliciously, pushing back against you, grinding her ass against your face. You can feel her gasp as you push your tongue deeper into her pussy, and it's now that you decide there's no place you'd rather be than face first in Ryujin's perfect, ripe ass.
You bring your other hand to the party, thumb targeting her erect clit, set on bringing her closer to the pleasure you could feel she so desperately sought.
Her thighs, objects of your wildest dreams and deepest fantasies, start to shake, urging you on in your tasting of her delicious pussy, drinking down the juices trickling down from her and onto your tongue.
She reaches her hands behind her, pawing for your head, soon finding a grip in your scalp, and pulling you deep into her.
"You eat me so fucking good!" Ryujin cries out, dead set on forcing as much of your mouth into her as possible, aggressively mounting your tongue with her heavily leaking cunt. You're all too eager to double your efforts, working both the hole of her pussy and her clit, basking in the oohs and ahhs of her body above you.
You can feel her, her full body getting closer and closer to its natural bliss, but her hands in your scalp tighten around your head and pull you higher up her back.
"Higher." Ryujin pleads, dragging your tongue up from the folds of her pussy, and towards the clenched ring at the centre of her glorious ass. "Eat my ass."
Her words ring in your ears, and your tongue is attracted to her asshole like a magnet, reaching out and giving her clenched back entrance a long, indulgent lick. She was already close from your dalliance with her pussy, and now the attention on her ass threatens to push her over the edge.
"Yes - yes - right there!"
You probe her, hungrily tasting the hidden fruit of her body, relishing its flavour, while your thumb resumes its work on her clit. You can feel her entire body quiver and writhe against the wall each time you move your tongue around her asshole, each long lick, each spearing attack.
"Fuck yes! Eat my ass! I'm almost there!"
Her thighs tense on either side of you, her gorgeous ass clenching even tighter, but you remain laser focused on feasting on her spectacular ass. You know she's close, her yells and yelps are no longer restrained, her fingers tighten around your scalp, and her juices run freely down your chin.
You bring your free hand to her leaking pussy, and without any warning, you enter her with your index and ring fingers.
"OH FUCK! FUCK I'M GOING TO - "
Her entire body goes still, each muscle in her well-toned body tenses, and somewhere in that precious moment - a domino falls.
"Fuuuuuck, baby…"
Ryujin crumbles, a shockwave of an orgasm coursing through her body, collapsing on to your willing tongue and still persistent fingers. You quickly remove your fingers from her, grabbing her thighs to keep her upright as she loses her balance, holding her to you, ass still against your face, letting her meld into the wall before her in a heap of quiet quivers and moans.
"That was…" Ryujin breathes, now joining you on her knees, turning her body to lean against the wall, facing you.
You wipe her juices away from your chin, contemplating the glistening stain it leaves on your hand as it does so, and you look up to see Ryujin smile, catching you mid-thought.
"Here, let me help you." Ryujin leans forward, and proceeds to lick your face - lick your chin, your jawline, up your cheek. She takes your face into your hands and pulls you into a kiss.
This time it's soft, tender, almost loving. Her tongue easily finds yours, and you taste yourselves on each other, wanting nothing more in that moment than to bask in each other, in the intimacy of being connected to someone.
Regretfully, the kiss ends, but Ryujin's face is still inches from yours, her eyes boring deep into you, when she whispers the single greatest sentence known to man: "I need you inside me."
You start to lean forward, but she stops you, placing a palm on your chest and somehow does the impossible, speaking into existence an even greater sentence: "not my pussy - I need you to fuck my ass."
She stands, and for the second time of the night you're brought level with her ass. You rise with her, and without looking she reaches back and again puts her hand on your cock, slowly letting you fuck her hand.
She walks, leading you cock-first through her apartment, all the while rotating her warm hand up and down the length of your shaft. You don't bother to ask her where she's taking you, only content to follow the mesmerising motion of her hips and the splendid little bounce of her ass with each step.
Her bedroom is just a few steps away from her apartment entrance, and is surprisingly bare, save for a single silk-sheeted king-size bed.
You groan disappointingly when she lets go of her hold on your cock, leaving you to watch as she goes to her bedside table, making a show of bending over solely for your pleasure until she finds what she's looking for.
She returns to you with a smile on her face and a tube in her hand, before turning her back on you, making sure you have full view of what she's about to do.
Ryujin squeezes a liberal amount from the tube and on her finger, rubbing the lube between her cheeks, and into her asshole, mixing it in with your saliva. She lets out a breathless moan as she breaches the hole with her finger, making sure to swirl it all around inside her. You watch her finger move in and out of her own anus, each push eliciting a harsher gasp, preparing herself, preparing her ass for you.
When she's done, she drops the tube to the ground and falls onto the bed. She's on all fours, facing the headboard and away from you, her ass high in the air, proudly presenting itself to you.
"Take my ass, baby."
You take a step forward, positioning yourself behind her, getting the ideal angle for your cock to line up with the clenched ring of her asshole. Lightly, you grasp both cheeks in your hands, and slowly part them, giving you full view of her beckoning entrance.
You push your hips forward, pressing your tip hard against Ryujin's ass, and finally, with a slight forceful thrust, you break through her resistance, the lube doing its job, allowing you to penetrate her incredible, firm ass.
You can see Ryujin writhe before you, gasping, clawing at the sheets, overcome by the inches you have pushed into her.
"Ryujin, are you okay? Do you need me to stop?"
"No, it just hurts… It hurts so good…" Ryujin replies, affirming her statement by pushing back against you, another harsh gasp leaving her as a second inch buries itself in her. "I knew it… Knew when I first saw your cock… I wanted it to be the first inside my ass…"
Her words shake you, but also serve to increase your arousal. "Your first?"
"I always knew I'd find the perfect cock…" Ryujin smiles, sinking into the bed, pushing back and groaning as she swallows another inch. "Mmmmm… If I was going to give away my ass… It had to be worth it…"
Her words, combined with her ridiculous tightness, overwhelms you, and you sink more and more of your cock into her ass, each inch triggering a different pleased and pained sound from Ryujin, each inch setting your nerve endings alight with overpowering ecstasy.
"More… Give me more… I can take it…" Ryujin pleas and coos, adjusting her ass further up your cock, drawing you further into her. "You have no idea how good this feels… how big you feel inside me…"
You can hear the discomfort in her voice, the pain from her ass being stretched, but her body shivers around you, and her words plead for more, until finally, exhilaratingly, you bottom-out, completely embedded inside Ryujin's ass.
"It's so big… So fucking big…" Ryujin sighs, so pleased to have you deep within her ass. Her right hand untangles itself from the bed sheets, moving between her legs, and she plays with her sopping wet pussy. "Now… Now I want you to fuck me… I want you to fuck my ass…"
She lifts her ass slightly, causing your shaft to slip just a little out of her, and you respond in kind by pulling your hips back from her rear. Even lubricated, it still takes work to thrust back in, but Ryujin works with you, easing her ass back and forth on your cock. You let her take the lead, let her control the speed and depth to which you plundered her asshole, let her experience each inch that set off tiny ripples of joy throughout her body.
Ryujin's ass stretches for you, moulding itself around your cock just right. She moves back against you, this time slightly faster, her moans becoming less and less pained with each thrust into her young, hot ass. "I think… I think I'm going to get addicted to this…"
You caress her flawlessly round cheeks, massaging the vanilla skin, unable to tear your eyes away as your cock is swallowed whole by Ryujin's perfect ass. The sight is almost too much to bear - Ryujin's young, fit body, face pressed down into the bed, sweat shining across her muscled back, fingers fervently working at her own clit, ass pointed up at you and gripping your shaft like a vise, hips rolling back onto you, hypnotically sliding you in and out.
"I think I'm ready… I can take it," Ryujin says, "go faster."
It's nearly over with the next thrust - you penetrate her hard, impaling her faster than the previous strokes, spearing inside the tightest part of Ryujin. She cries out your name, her back arching splendidly as she takes you in, but you give her no reprieve - withdrawing out of her, so your tip is all that remains inside, and then you push back in, forcing her ass cheeks to slap against your body.
"FUCK!" Ryujin cries out as you fill her wholly with your cock, leaving not one inch anywhere other than Ryujin's desperately wanting asshole. She squeezes her ass around you, and you continue to pick up the pace, wanting nothing else but to experience more of the unbearable euphoria of being inside Ryujin's ass.
You crash against her, each stroke becoming faster, her every cry of lust, of pleasure, of your name, becoming louder and louder. "You're so deep in me - you're fucking my ass so good!"
It isn't long before you're slamming in and out of her, fucking Ryujin's ass with wild abandon, ensuring every stroke maximises the length that you pull and push in and out of her. Ryujin's ass is too much, too hot, but so irresistible that you can't help but continue to piston in and out of her clenched ass, no matter how close you are to your orgasm.
"Don't stop - don't stop fucking me. Fuck my ass until I can't walk tomorrow."
Your hands grip her waist, leveraging her body against you for the exact angle and speed to fuck her, to truly fuck her ass. She's a mess beneath you, a symphony of satisfied cries of ecstasy and pleas begging for more.
"I'm so close!" Ryujin moans into the bed before you. "Cum in me - cum inside me! I want it! Show me how much you love my ass! Fill my ass with your cum!"
As if under her command, you drive yourself deep into Ryujin, and something inside you both simultaneously breaks. Ryujin's legs give way, and she falls into the bed, bringing you with her, your cock nailing her into the mattress. You fuck her into the bed, squashing her breasts into the silk sheets, and you can see her own fingers work herself even faster, feverishly playing with her clit.
Her body trembles uncontrollably underneath you, heavy breaths and loud moans leaving her, while her tight ass flexes around your pulsating cock.
"Oh yesss!"
Ryujin's orgasm pushes you over the edge, the tightening of her magnificent ass around you makes it impossible to do anything but follow after her. You let go of all your inhibitions, letting torrents of white-hot cum shoot deep into Ryujin's ass, shot after shot filling it to the brim. She shivers with each shot of cum, and lets loose a long, satisfied moan.
A sudden exhaustion overcomes you, and while you find yourself wanting to fall asleep embedded in Ryujin's ass, you do the courtesy of rolling to her side, your softening cock slipping from her body. You don't need to see it to feel the cocktail that escapes her well-fucked hole, dripping down her slit between her thighs.
You collapse next to her, ears adjusting to no longer hearing her loud exclamations of pleasure over the sounds of your bodies colliding with each other, to only hearing your mutual satisfied, deep breaths.
Eventually, Ryujin rolls to her side to face you, her face glowing with sweat and post-sex serenity. You've imagined this moment - imagined her lying next to you just like this - but somehow this exceeds all expectations.
Ryujin reaches over, a hand delicately cupping your cheek, lovingly running her thumb over your lips. You want nothing more in that moment than to kiss her, to hold her close, to feel her skin against your skin.
But something tells you that'll come sooner than later.
"That was -"
"I know." She says, leaning closer to give you a light peck. "I really am going to have trouble walking tomorrow."
"You asked for it." You smile at her.
"I loved it," she replies. "Although, I guess I'll have to stay in bed all day. It'd be nice to have some company."
"Ryujin," you say, a creeping thought in the back of your mind rudely coming to the forefront. "Your boyfriend - "
Ryujin interrupts you with a laugh - the same lovely, full belly laugh that started this whole thing in the first place.
"What?"
"You really bought that?" She asks, and like a pile of bricks, it all comes crashing down on you.
"But - wait." Your mind, still soaked in a post-sex haze, fruitlessly tries to put the puzzle pieces together. "Ryujin. What the fuck?"
"I don't have a boyfriend," she states, matter-of-factly.
"You don't have a boyfriend," you repeat after her, incredulously. "But the phone call -"
"Just a friend - Yeji - hadn't seen her in ages, was supposed to hang out today. Really fucked up of her to no show."
"Your friend? But you were really going after her over the phone!"
Ryujin laughs even harder. "Oh she had hung up long before that. Hey - do you think I should look into acting?"
"But - but the underwear!"
"I always wear this set to these reunions," Ryujin says.
"Why?"
"I always wear this set to these reunions."
"Fucking hell, Ryujin.” You feel dumb, finally putting together the last piece of the puzzle, and you join in her laughter at the ridiculousness of this situation. "You could've just said something!"
"And where's the fun in that?" Ryujin asks.
"A lot less stress."
"But now you get me. Anytime, anywhere, and as I’ve clearly demonstrated - any way you want me." Ryujin sidles up even closer to you, close enough to feel her hot breath against your face. "And if that's not enough, at least you won't have to go to these fucking reunions anymore."
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Can I request some poly! Shigadabihawks x reader if you don’t mind. You have amazing writing and you have written some amazing poly! I don’t care if it’s sfw and/or nsfw, it’s totally up to you. I honestly kinda wanted to see how hawks and Shigaraki got along in a poly relationship and how they interacted with each other because I can imagine how Dabi and hawks get along or dabi and shigaraki but hawks and Shigaraki would have a odd relationship, y’know. Sorry if this is odd and you don’t know what I’m talking about and I just want you to know that I absolutely love your work. You’re the first person I check everyday when I get on tumblr. 😘
Awwwww!!! You are so sweet, thank you so much!!! Yeah this makes a lot of sense, for the demon au especially I’ve been trying to work on showing off the dynamic between Hawks and Shig. I hope headcanons are okay!
| SFW
- Before you enter the mix, Dabi is really the only holding them together. He started off dating Tomura (who still insists he barely even likes him, usually after they finish making out) and then later Kei joined in. You’re still not sure how it all came to be since you get a different answer depending on who you ask and what mood they’re in.
- Tomura is only a bit tsundere with Dabi and Kei, never you. With you he’s more openly clingy and would never deny how he feels. He wouldn’t say it, but he appreciates you being around whenever Dabi and Keigo make him feel like a third wheel. Keigo has some similar experiences, but he’s just genuinely not bothered whenever Dabi wants to go have some solo time with Tomura. Or you, for that matter. Just isn’t the jealous type.
- They like using you to fuck with each other. If you’re hanging out with Dabi there’s a good chance Keigo will come along and just flat out steal you. Just pick you up and walk off. Because he can. Dabi is fond of teasing Tomura about how much he likes you, despite clearly also liking you. Tomura’s go-to is usually also to steal you, however he likes to get you to come willingly so you’ll blow off whoever you were with to start.
- Keigo and Tomura get along best when teaming up to irritate Dabi. Whether it’s playing keep away with you, hiding his stuff, distracting him when he’s trying to brood and do Dabi stuff, they really enjoy the power of their combined effects on him.
- The three of them teaming up to irritate you is what really gets them cooperating. They’re all gremlins, they steal your clothes to force you into skirts with no panties, they move your stuff around so you have to ask them for help, and that’s without getting into how often they fight over you, although that’s not so much to annoy you.
- Dabi developed a little habit of calling you, Tomura, and Kei his sluts and now he does it no matter who’s around and it’s really embarrassing but he absolutely does not care.
- While most of the time it’s Dabi and you holding Tomura and Keigo together, it’s not uncommon to find just the two of them off by themselves bonding over a common interest or even occasionally making out.
- They each have their own rooms, but you don’t. You bounce between theirs and your stuff is always scattered around. Yes, it’s annoying. No, they won’t let you have your own room. The four of you typically end up sharing one bed anyway, although the room itself changes.
- They’re not shy about the relationship, so it’s fairly often you get teased (albeit lovingly) about having three boyfriends. Toga really likes trying to force you to pick a favorite.
- Everyone thinks it’s creepy. Everyone. But Kei started calling you their “little girl” and just never stopped.
- They don’t really do PDA between themselves aside from the odd hand holding or rare peck on the cheek, but when it comes to you all bets are off. You’re constantly perched in someone’s lap or holding a hand or having your clothes fixed by someone else. To everyone else it mostly looks like they toss you around.
- Sometimes they’ll take you on dates, switching between doing them one on one or with the whole group. It’s hard to get Tomura to go out, though, since he prefers stay at home dates. When he’s not feeling it you’ll usually end up in a blanket fort eating takeout all together.
- One time. one. time. some stranger muttered “slut” under his breath when he saw you walking along in public with them. Dabi charred his ass so fast the other two were pissed at him for not being able to get a hit in.
- Despite all of them being gremlins, they really love you and will 10/10 go out of their way to make sure you know that. Literally anything upsets you and the immediate response is “Tell me why you’re not happy and I will kill it.”
- Most of their more genuine affections are shown in little things they do. Keigo likes to get you guys things, especially snacks he knows you like since he can go in public freely. Dabi is constantly fixing your clothes and hair and making sure everyone’s comfortable. Tomura always touches you softly (outside of the bedroom), always brushing his fingers along your cheeks or resting his head on your shoulder, etc. He’s also the most likely to casually touch the others in public.
- When it’s cold everyone piles up on Dabi and he pretends he hates it, but you always catch him smiling when he thinks no one’s looking.
- Kei loves using his feathers to tease everyone, slipping them under clothes before you can stop them or making them flit around your face. It’s annoying but his laugh is so cute you can’t even be mad at him.
- Tomura’s face always lights up before he can stop it when one of you comes to play videogames with him. He’s really bad at hiding how excited and happy it makes him.
- Since you’re the only girl and they’re kind of sexist, they treat you a lot softer than they treat each other. Doesn’t matter how strong you are, they’ll always think you’re weaker and they need to protect you. It might not seem like it when they’re teasing the hell out of you or tying you up or spanking you, but they go way easier on you than they would on each other in the same situation.
- Literally any sign from you that you’re seriously upset or overwhelmed? Done. No more. Only soft affection and very mild teasing for the week.
| NSFW
- The first time Kei joined in while Dabi and Tomura were fucking, he didn’t even participate. He just watched like a fucking creep. Still does that occasionally.
- They all have relatively high drives and absolutely no shame between each other, so it’s pretty often you’re just casually getting fucked in one of their rooms while another sits on the couch beside you and watches TV. May or may not comment on it.
- Sometimes they’ll make bets about you. See who can get you to cum the fastest one week or try testing how long it takes for you to come to them when they don’t initiate it and which one you pick. How much cum they can stuff you with and plug up before it starts leaking out. And so on.
- It’s very different if it’s just one of them, or if it’s two and which two, etc.
- Dabi likes to manhandle you. He takes his time, makes you wait and beg and then just completely destroys you for hours on end. After, he sits back with a cigarette and lets you cling to him while he strokes you and tells you you did a good job. It pleases him when you’re so fucked out you can’t form full sentences, and he’ll tease you for it for days.
- Keigo is similar in that he likes to tease, but he’s also sadistic. He’ll make you cum on his tongue and fingers until you’re begging him to stop and then he’ll force at least two more orgasms out of you on his dick. Afterwards he watches you twitch and leak his spunk for a minute before giving you god-tier aftercare. Runs a bath, gets you some water, etc. Once you’re clean he encourages you to take a nap, but it’s usually an excuse for him to take a nap because he’s also worn out but trying to hide it.
- Tomura gets too excited to tease for very long, but that’s only directly before the sex. He’ll have his hand shoved in your panties just toying with you for hours while he absently scrolls on his phone. Sometimes he’ll have you get yourself ready where he can see, only to completely ignore you until you let him know he can start. Once he’s going, though, he’s done with all that. He’s drooling, panting, flushed, pounding you into next week. He alternates between kissing you and spitting in your mouth because he’s too wound up to just pick a mood most of the time.
- That’s not to say you don’t have lots of times where it’s intimate and loving, but that’s not really the usual.
- The Dabi/Tomura combination is the more nasty of the three. Kei isn’t opposed to doing stuff to make you squirm when he’s in the mood but Dabi and Tomura l i v e for that shit. They’re almost nightmarish together, 100% okay with piss, impact play, period stuff, all things anal, etc. Of course you’re their girlfriend and they love you so they’re not about to do something that has you screaming or crying for real, but if you’re at least mostly okay with it and they’re confident it’s not breaking you, they’ll do pretty much anything. Anything to get you teary-eyed, begging them to stop, etc. as long as you’re not saying the safeword. For aftercare they’re very gentle and soft as they clean you up and put you to bed. Doesn’t matter what time of day it happened, they’re putting you in bed and snuggling you until you get at least an hour of sleep. When you wake up they’ll get you something to eat and make sure they didn’t hurt you beyond the usual cuts, bruises, and assorted mild scorching.
- Dabi and Kei usually go for more of a good cop/bad cop sort of arrangement. Doesn’t seem so bad until you figure out they switch the roles without any indication of having done that. It’s like they have a sixth sense for it or something. You’ll be crying and clinging to Keigo since he’s been nice so far only for him to bend you over his knee and spank you raw for it; meanwhile Dabi has gone from smacking you around and spewing filth to cooing and stroking your face. Their aftercare is mostly praise, they’ll tell you you did well and make sure you’re okay mentally since some of the stuff they say can get pretty intense. They’ll get you cleaned up and make sure you eat and drink water, and they’ll cuddle as long as you want and won’t go anywhere even if you fall asleep.
- Tomura and Keigo are the most interesting mix. It’s not often that it happens, but when it does they work surprisingly well together. Their different types of degeneracy and patience seem to blur together into a lethal combination that’ll have you getting whiplash from how they toss you back and forth. They’re not usually both participating at the same time; someone has to hold the camera, after all. Aftercare usually consists of a shower, snacks, and either you napping on their laps while they game together or joining in if they didn’t rock your shit too hard. On days when they’ve done this, you’ll notice the two of them interacting more and occasionally taking some time to be alone together…
- When it’s all of them you’re fucking in for it. Depending on the mood it can vary wildly, but for the most part it’s just a complete mass of writhing limbs and moans. You’re tired ten minutes in, more of the focus is on you than anything, you’re forced to cum over and over again, they each cum in or on you at least twice, and when it’s all said and done you’re covered in sweat, cum, possibly blood, and three sweaty, spent bodies. Usually after they have to peel your limp, half-conscious body off the bed and carry you to the bath. They’ll take great care of you, not that you’ll really remember it in your sorry state, and when you wake up the next day they’re more doting than usual. They’ll tease a little about how you’re sore and still just a little out of it, but that doesn’t mean they’re not checking on you and being extra attentive.
- The times when it’s all of you together but in a more romantic way, it’s like being surrounded by pure love. Everyone’s kissing, you’re all tangled together, it’s just really soft and intimate. Doesn’t last as long, but it’s insanely sweet and gooey. When finished, there’s lots of soft caring/cleaning up/cuddling for a while but it doesn’t have the same insane recovery time as usual. After everyone’s taken care of, the guys like to try pretending everything is normal, but it’s obvious they’re more clingy than usual. Definitely all sleeping together in a pile on nights like that.
- Sometimes one will join in just for aftercare. Kei enjoys seeing you a fucked-out little mess, so he’s always happy to help if it means he can see you destroyed for a minute first. Dabi likes the feeling of being needed and being able to care for someone, so he’ll help, especially cleaning you up and getting you dressed. Tomura loves the way you cling after, and likes to cuddle and nap, so he’ll come in late to the aftercare just for that.
#shigaraki x reader#hawks x reader#dabi x reader#shigadabi#dabihawks#shigahawks#shigadabihawks#shigadabihawks x reader#shigadabihawks smut#poly shigadabi#poly dabihawks#poly shigahawks#dabihawks x reader#shigadabi x reader#shigahawks x reader#poly shigadabihawks#shigaraki#hawks#keigo takami#dabi
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Firsts - A Sirius Black Imagine
Pairings : Young Sirius Black x Reader
Warnings : smut, obviously, unprotected sex, swearing, smoking, alcohol and mild drug use.
Hi love! I did it! Beware, it is quite long, I sort of took the liberty to provide some context, but I hope you'll like it! :)
Masterlist
Sirius is looking back at himself in the mirror, wincing at his reflection. He recognizes his traits sparingly; his dark curls falling to his shoulders, his mocking smirk, his overall nonchalant expression. He knows who he is, but the clothes on his back are completely robbing him of his own identity. He glances bitterly at his beloved leather coat sitting on the back of his desk chair and sighs. The ridiculous black suit he’s wearing barely fits him. He knows it probably used to belong to one of his distant cousins and that it has been quickly and grossly recut to fit him by the house-elf. His parents are downstairs in the drawing room, waiting for him to join them so they can leave for this stupid reception.
He doesn’t even know what it is about, except that he’s going to this apparent important new Ministry guy’s house who threw a sort of lame introduction party, since he just arrived in London with his family. And what he knows is that he’s going to spend the whole night with the type of people he doesn’t want to be assimilated with. From what he heard, the host of the reception just arrived at the Ministry of Magic to help with the passing of some bill for Muggleborn regulations, as awful as it sounds. He’d like to avoid to go, but Walburga has the upper hand on him, and nothing in the world would convince his dear mother to leave her eldest son behind, knowing full well that if she does so, Sirius is going to get the fuck out of there and join these Muggles mingling Potters fools.
‘You look dapper,’ says a soft voice behind him.
Standing in the doorway, Sirius’ youngest brother observes him, grinning.
‘Shut up,’ he replies, annoyed by the stupid smile on Regulus’ face.
His brother crosses his arms and steps into his bedroom. He looks around like he just stepped into some kind of freak show. His gaze rests a little longer on a certain poster. Sirius glances at the Muggle woman dressed in a revealing red swimsuit standing straight in the middle of the picture. He smirks, and caught-red handed, Regulus turns away quickly. She always was his brother's favourite, after all. Whether he wants to admit it or not.
‘Are you going to behave this time?’ he asks, stepping in front of his eldest brother.
Sirius shrugs, trying to adjust the bowtie strangling him. For Merlin’s sake, he thinks, it feels like he’s suffocating already.
‘I always behave, brother dear,’ he replies, trying to undo the knot around his neck. ‘I just don’t behave the way they’d like me to,' referring to their parents.
Regulus shakes his head and starts fiddling with his brother’s bowtie and adjust it perfectly in one fell swoop, as if it were child’s play. Once the knot is properly buckled, he taps Sirius’ chest in an encouraging gesture, and frowns when he feels something hard hidden in the inside pocket of his brother’s vest.
‘Really?’ he asks.
Sirius snorts.
‘Just a bit of courage,’ he admits.
‘And how much courage did you drink already?’
‘Not enough, apparently,’ Sirius replies, thinking about the full flask of warm whiskey tucked inside his suit.
He’d honestly rather be stuck in detention with Snivellus for the rest of his existence then go to this lame-ass party. That alone justifies the whiskey amply.
After a few detours in the city, he finds himself in front of an imposing white manor situated in one of London’s richest Square. Oh, this is going to be a long night, he thinks. Not only it seems like the host is wizard-rich, but he’s also everything rich, period. He rolls his eyes, there’s no issue. Walburga is pressing her long and emaciated fingers into his son’s arm as they step into the great hall of the house. The interior is as posh as the exterior, with its grand marble staircase curving up to the upper floor and its giant diamond-like chandelier hanging over their heads. For God’s sake, is it a live classical assemble he hears playing in the back? As his mother pushes him further inside, the sound of light chatter reaches his ears. He sees his father, dressed in his horrible robes, already on his way to speak with some old acquaintances, quickly followed by Regulus. He scans the principal room for a quiet corner, but it’s filled with this bunch of pricks, and he’s fighting with all his might the panic that is taking over his mind. He finally spots a free corner next to a big window and he walks straight ahead in that direction, hoping no one will recognize him on the way.
‘I heard his son has found some work as a doctor,’ he hears a shrill voice say.
‘A Muggle doctor? How peculiar!’ says another voice.
This is exactly the kind of chatter Sirius doesn’t want to hear. In no way he thinks he’s superior because he was graced with magic powers at birth. It is so suffocating, and he feels so incredibly small and inadequate, drowning in this sea of close-minded guests.
He studies them, recognizes some familiar faces from Hogwarts, but most of them are Slytherins and are not close at all to use them as an escape. A waiter walks in front of him, holding a tray where champagne flutes fill themselves up. He grabs one and drink it in one sip. He’s already quite tipsy, but he doesn’t care. He’d rather be intoxicated right now to bury this hatred deep within. God, he needs air.
He sees Walburga looking for him in the room, and she’s walking next to a tall and handsome man. For Godric’s sake, why is she walking straight in his direction? The man next to her doesn’t look as old as his mother, but the grey strands in his black hair betrays his age. He looks posh, and haughty.
‘This is my eldest son, Sirius,’ says his mother in a toneless voice. ‘Sirius, this his our host, Mr Santorini.’
‘Pleased to meet your, Mr Black,’ says the man while he extends his hand.
Sirius gets up on his feet, subtly struggling to find his balance, under the duo’s concerned stare. He rapidly and weakly shakes the man’s hand and nods. Ashamed, Walburga shoots darts at her son and quickly turns away from him.
‘My youngest, Regulus, is doing quite well at Hogwarts, see, he’s - ...’ her voice fades away.
Sirius closes his eyes; he needs to find some distraction. And what could be better than the little thing he has brought to the party that is currently hidden in his pocket behind the whiskey flask? He needs to feel something else than the dreadful thoughts he has right now. He struts to the giant marble staircase and finds his way on the upper level without attracting attention to him. That is one advantage when no one cares about you; not being seen. The voices downstairs are slowly fading away and he feels already so much better.
He runs a nervous hand in his dark locks, feeling quite hot, with this bowtie strangling him. There must be a door leading outside. He tries to open the first one on his right, but the handle doesn’t bulge; it’s locked. And Walburga has confiscated his wand at the beginning of the summer upon his return from Hogwarts, so there’s no use. He sighs and adventures further away in the hall.
He has more luck with the second door, and finds himself into a deserted bedroom. His eyes make out the giant bed over the central wall of the room, and spots some sealed boxes on the floor. The translucent curtains discreetly veil the large windows in front of him, and he opens one widely and lights himself a cigarette without a care, pacing into the room nervously. He sees some pictures resting on a vintage dresser on the opposite wall. There are rows of books in the built-in bookcases, and even some disperse vinyls taking up some of the space. He’s clearly trespassing someone’s intimacy, but whose? Sirius walks to the dresser and opens up the first drawer. A tickling feeling in his stomach at the sight of the several underwear – even in the darkness – makes him wonder how long has it been since he’s been intimate with someone. The last time was before school ended, with Mallory, and it was just snogging. He never went all the way... He chuckles discreetly at the thought and taps the ashes of his cigarette on the floor. Fuck this house, fuck this bedroom, and fuck this posh Pureblood family.
‘Mm, mm.’
Someone has cleared their throat behind him. He jumps, and tries to hide the cigarette away.
‘Please, don’t stop for me,’ says a girl in the doorway.
He can’t make up her traits in the darkness, but she sounds young. She steps right in front of him.
‘I don’t think you should be up here,’ she says.
He feels like a child, caught red-handed. He feels suddenly very trapped.
‘I heard the owner of this house is quite severe,’ she adds, taking the cigarette away from him, inhaling the smoke into her lungs, and exhaling. ‘If he found us in his daughter’s room, I think he’d torture us without any remorse.’
‘His daughter’s room?’ he replies nervously.
She nods, giving him back his cigarette.
‘A real pest.’
There is an awkward silence.
‘What were you doing here?’ she adds.
‘Looking for a way out,’ he replies in all honesty. ‘What about you?’
‘Just about the same.’ She glances at the cigarette. ‘You might want to put it out now.’
‘I really don’t,’ he replies, taking one last whiff, ‘but when do I get what I want anyway?’
He throws it on the hard-wood floor indifferently and follows the stranger in the hallway. She turns around to take a good look at him.
‘I’m Y/N, by the way – ‘
He feels like his legs are going to flinch. He doesn’t know if it’s the sudden nicotine rush, or the champagne mixed with the whiskey, or the lights in the hallway shinning over Y/N’s green doe eyes staring at him, or her long black hair waving on her back, or her delicious pink lips, or the gentle freckles on her nose, but he’s suddenly feeling quite light-headed.
‘You okay there?’ she laughs. ‘What’s your name?’
He shakes his head, trying to regain his thoughts.
‘I’m, er. I’m Si – ‘should he really tell her his real name? ‘I’m Sid.’
‘Sid,’ she repeats. ‘Well, Sid, you don’t look too good.’
‘I don’t feel too good,’ he admits.
Her expression changes. She’s not amused anymore. She’s pitying him.
‘Follow me,’ she says, grabbing his hand like she has known him forever, dragging him to the end of the wall where they cross a door and end up on a small balcony overlooking the deserted garden.
‘How to you know this place?’ he asks, resting his arms on the guardrail, humming the fresh crisp air.
‘Hung out with the pest earlier,’ she replies.
‘Not anymore?’
‘Told you, she’s a pest. I can’t leave, though. I’m sort of stuck here.’
‘So am I.’
She laughs lightly. The moonlight shines on her beautiful face, and her traits are so soft, and if he was much more like himself, he’d try to charm her the way he knows how.
‘So, Sid. What are we avoiding?’ she asks away.
‘My parents, I guess,’ he replies, taking out the flask of whiskey of his pocket.
He takes a big sip and hands it to her. She considers it for a moment and grabs it. The wind flies through her hair, and her perfume reaches his nostrils, a perfectly well-balanced mix of vanilla and gentle notes of citrus. The fragrance shoots up his nose and wafts around his brain. Fuck, she’s so beautiful.
‘What about them?’ she asks away, wincing when she swallows the liquor.
He snorts. He doesn’t want to talk about his parents right now. Not when the prettiest girl he’s ever seen is standing right in front of him. He has something else on his mind now.
‘Your accent,’ he says, switching subjects. ‘It’s not from here.’
Y/N nods.
‘I grew up all over the place, but mostly America.’
‘You don’t sound American.’
She smiles, revealing a straight row of perfectly pearly white teeth.
‘My family, we’re from Sicily.’
He nods.
‘It’s in Italy – ‘
‘I know where Sicily is, I’m not stupid,’ he replies harshly, a bit offended.
But Y/N chuckles lightly, and her soft laugh brings his attitude down. He can’t help but stare at her. She’s a bit overdressed to his taste, but hey, so is he. He wonders what is hiding underneath that navy dress of hers, and if her skin is as soft as he imagines it is. He needs to calm down.
‘First time in London, then?’
She nods.
‘What do you think?’ he asks, locking eyes with her.
She licks her lower lip without realizing it.
‘Well, I don’t hate the accent,’ she teases.
Praised be Godric.
‘Tell me, Sid, you seem to be about my age, yet you’re drunk like an old man with a drinking problem, and you probably smoke like a city boy. I keep wondering if I really should be alone with you right now.’
‘Are you afraid?’ he asks.
She shakes her head.
‘Rarely.’
‘To be honest, Y/N,’ he says, pronouncing every syllable of her name like he could actually taste it, ‘I was alone up there to find a quiet spot for this.’
He shows up the joint between his fingers. She squints for a short moment and smiles.
‘I see.’
Y/N’s eyes bored into him. He wonders if he has crossed a line. He barely knows her, after all.
‘Let’s go somewhere more private, then,’ she suggests, grabbing his hand. He doesn’t even have the time to appreciate the softness of her skin when he feels himself disapparating, his body swirling in every direction, and a sudden urge of panic takes hold off him. When he reapparates in a loud pop, he shouts:
‘What the hell are you doing? Are you bloody insane?’
‘What, did you never apparate before?’
‘Yes, I did but -,’ he is freaking out, Walburga must think he’s left and is probably fulminating. ‘My mother, she’s going to hex me! Bring us back!’
‘Why?’ Eliana asks, intrigued. ‘How would she know?’
Sirius shakes his head nervously.
‘She placed some sort of charm on me, I’m not allowed to leave her sight. If she knows I left the premises, she’ll find me and – ‘
He stops himself from saying too much. Perhaps it would be a bit intense to share with the girl what would Walburga do to him. At least, he wouldn’t have to explain the healing bruises on his ribcage.
‘Relax, Sid. We’re still on the premises.’
He looks around and spots the house in the distance through a small window. Are they in some sort of guest house? A garden shed? There is nothing around him, he’s just standing on a mat. Relieved, he sits down, running a hand in his hair. Y/N joins him and creates a small fire by flicking her wand, enough to dimly light the room they are in.
‘You’re actually scared of your parents. Why?’
Sirius chuckles. He’s not scared, he’s terrified of them. She points out the little stick he forgot he was holding between his fingers.
‘Shall we?’ she suggests.
‘Who says I want to share?’
She pouts adorably. He lights it up and he takes a good breath of the substance and exhales slowly, indulging the heavy smoke, his lungs burning, and a light sensation rushes to his head. Them Muggles can also do magic, he thinks to himself. Under her curious eyes, he passes the stick in her delicate hands, and observes her. Her delicious lips reach it, and she slowly breathes it in. She starts coughing, tears running to her eyes.
‘Wait,’ he laughs, ‘is this your first time?’
She presses her hand to her rounded chest, laughing uncontrollably. Sirius shakes his head, following her laugh, and explains to her how to actually get the smoke to her lungs.
‘There, yes – keep it still a second, let it -, yes, good,’ it’s like teaching children how to mount a broom, ‘and exhale. Brilliant.’
He waits a second before taking another whiff. Y/N’s mouth curves into a smile and she closes her eyes slowly.
‘Oh,’ she exhales, ‘this is – ‘
‘I know,’ replies Sirius, smiling. ‘I know.’
‘Oh,’ she repeats.
He stares at her, admiring her delicate features. Her eyes are still closed and he sees her falling on her back, completely relaxed. If his mother saw him right now, smoking pot with a random girl he met at this rich guy’s party, she’d have a good reason to use the Cruciatus curse on him for once. Or she’d cut his head before he could say he’s sorry. He decides to join Y/N and rests his back on the floor. He lays his head just beside hers and fixes the ceiling. He feels better now, and it’s not just the drugs.
‘I feel so heavy,’ she says, sliding her hands on her naked arms.
She turns her head and looks at him.
‘Do you feel heavy?’
‘Kind of,’ he laughs.
He doesn’t particularly feel heavy. In fact, he feels relieved, and mostly, he feels horny. Good god.
‘What is there to do in London at night?’ she asks.
‘Mm,’ he hesitates. ‘Pubs, clubs, walking around Southbank, I guess.’
‘Never went to a pub,’ she admits.
He wants to run his finger on her cheek. He wants to grab her face and press his lips on hers.
‘You’re kidding,’ he replies, still fixing that beautiful mouth of hers.
She shakes her head lightly, and a stroke of her long hair falls in her eyes. Her little red stained eyes. He smiles at the view, and slowly leans closer, replacing the stroke of black hair behind her ear.
‘I’ll bring you to a pub, one day,’ he mutters, daydreaming out loud.
‘Wouldn’t you mother kill you if you did?’ she jokes.
‘She would. It would be worth the risk, though.’
She turns on her stomach and rests her head on her hands. He keeps staring at her, detailing everything.
‘What are you looking at?’ she chuckles.
‘Just admiring the view,’ he replies frankly.
She would blush if she wasn’t all flustered already. There’s an odd adrenaline spluttering inside of him as he feels her close, and his pulse quickens and he’s feeling so hot right now, he’s melting into the rug. There’s a comfortable silence between them, and they both enjoy it for a couple of minutes. There is something about this girl, this nonchalant attitude, and her mesmerizing eyes, and her accent, and the way her body moves when she finally sits down again, pulling her dress over her thighs to sit comfortably, making him lose his fucking mind. If he weren’t so distracted by her presence, he’d be sweet talking to her, like he’s so used to do with other girls. But he’s simply incapable of doing so, like she’s robbed him of his means.
‘We should go back, they’re going to be looking for us,’ she whispers, showing him her hand to help him sit back.
But he doesn’t want to go back and mingle with the people he hates. He wants to be alone with her, if it is just to stay motionless on this rug in her company. He takes her hand and sits back up, and their eyes lock again, and they stare at each other, and he’s wondering if he’s hallucinating someone so perfect to help him cope with this emptiness he feels all the time. She absentmindedly licks her lips, taunting him, and he has to remind himself how to breathe, as his lips quirk hesitantly, sighing out loud to stop himself from pining her underneath him.
‘Yeah,’ he stutters, like a fucking coward, and then he clears his throat and steadies his pulse and sternly instructs himself to get it together, dude. James would be laughing at him if he saw him right now.
But they both stay there, motionless. He can feel the drugs running away from his bloodstream, he’s on another high now, another rush, and it has nothing to do with it. He can’t stop staring at her lips. Her expression washes over him in waves, and he pins a hesitant smile on his face, hoping it will distract her from the bulge growing down there.
‘Or we could just, you know, stay here for a while,’ she suggests.
For fuck’s sake.
He’s only able to gulp and nod, his cock painfully growing thick through the fabric. He tries to hide the bump by placing his arm over his legs, but instead it catches her attention down there, and her eyes quickly spots it, but she innocently acts like she’s unaware of the effect she has on him. If he could only smack his lips on hers.
Her emerald eyes are wide open, she leans in and presses her soft lips on his, and he’s never felt so relieved in his entire life, her mouth is warm and soft, and he can actually run his hands in her soft hair, and he can hear his heart hammering in his ears, and she actually lets out a discreet moan in his mouth, and fuck, there he is, gone, he knows there is no way back from there.
He feels her hands slowly unbuckling his belt and removing those atrocious trousers, and he follows through, pulling up her dress to reveal her skin. He removes his shirt, he has dreamt all night to rip it off his body from the second he put it on, and now she’s pushing him on his back on the hard rug and places kisses in the crook of his neck, sliding her tongue all the way down, and he knows where she’s heading, but he can’t let her do that, or he’s going to cum already. He grabs her head softly, and while he’s busy sticking his tongue into her mouth, he’s unclasps her top, tosses it on the floor, and starts licking her round breasts, circling her hard nipples with his tongue. He realizes it is actually the first time he’s allowed to touch naked breasts, and Merlin, this is so much better when there’s no fabric covering them.
He pins her small body under him, and he slowly moves down on her. He admires her ribcage moving up and down, and he can hears her heavy breathing, and he feels like he can’t hold it anymore. He runs his lips on her skin, down her stomach, to the birth of her underwear, pulling them down very gently. Sirius can’t believe he just met her a couple of hours ago; he feels like he has been desiring her for an eternity. There was a before her, and there’s now – and all the shit he’s been dealing with since school ended is now tucked away in the back of his mind. He caresses with his lips the soft bump between her legs, indulging the new sensation, and then just takes a mouthful of her sex. Her breathing stops, her ribcage is suspended for a second, and then she breathes out and grabs the back of his head while he tastes her. It’s sweet, and warm, and wet, and salty at the same time, and it’s so fucking good.
She’s squirming and writhing beneath him, her subtle moans amplifying. The gasps she makes sends sparks of unbearable pleasure through him, and he feels dizzy, like his heart is about to explode, ready to jump out of his chest at any moment. He slides one finger into her, and then another, and she spams around his fingers. He observes her perfect body tensing at his touch, cupping one breast with one hand while she orgasms into his mouth, her fluids mixing with his saliva. Her face is flushed and her pupils are dilated, and he could very well be on this high for the rest of his existence. But she places kisses on his lips, tasting herself on him, and his cock is so hard, he can’t help but groan when he feels her hand grabs his sex through the fabric of his underwear, slowly stroking him. It is pure torture.
He feels the small piece of clothing covering him sliding down his legs, and he kicks it on the floor. She stares at him in the eyes and licks her fingers, then moves her hand down there again, gently applying pressure on his hard-on. Sirius’ head tilt to the back, blood rushes through him. That is a different story when it’s someone’s else hand, isn’t?
She lays down in front of him, and he follows her as she guides is cock at the entrance of her sex, and it’s so wet, how is he going to pull through? He’s shaking with apprehension but pure pleasure. She suddenly frowns.
‘Wait,’ she hesitates, ‘is this your first time?’
He nods. There’s so point in lying.
‘Do you want to stop?’
Of course, he doesn’t want to stop. He shakes his head, and her face lits up.
They kiss and he presses the tip of his cock into her, slowly, to get every sensation right, and he closes his eyes and, oh this feels so fucking good, and he can’t help but exhales of relief when he feels the warmth, and he hears her gasping underneath him. He’s sinking into her, and she pushes his length even farther by raising her hips. Why does it feel so good? He starts to pace inside her, like he has known what to do forever, increasing the tempo, and she moans under him. He moves swiftly now, trying with all his might to not just release himself off the pressure. She throws her head back into the rug, he feels sweat pearling at the birth of his forehead, his locks fall into his eyes, and he accelerates his pace and presses her legs on her stomach, and oh my god, this is even better.
She presses her right hand on his chest, running her fingers over his hard stomach, avoiding the bruises, detailing each parcel of his body. She looks back up and pushes her lips on his, and their tongues meet, and he’s completely melting into her. She finally bucks her hips tightly and Sirius hisses, he can’t hold up anymore. Oh, he wants to hear her say his name – if only he had given his real one – but she lets a loud ‘fuck’ escape her mouth, and she’s damp with sweat, and he never seen something so beautiful, he slams into her harder and faster, he groans while his grip tightens around her delicate waist. He feels almost he’s in pain and something stronger than life itself is burning him; yes, he’s burning up down there, he can’t hold it anymore, his whole body is on fire, he glances at her one last time, and he lets out a guttural growl, while feeling his insides pushing his soul out, and for a short moment, he thinks he’s dying, spilling his warm seed into her, filling her up while’s he petrified, hanging between dream and reality, thinking his heart stopped beating.
It is only half an hour later that he comes back to the manor, flustered and feeling out of his body, followed by Y/N. She’s even prettier under the warm lights, blushed cheeks, and he relives in his mind what just happened over and over again. That wasn’t bad for a first time, he thinks.
‘Y/N! Papà has been looking for you forever, where were you?’, a young girl is staring at her.
She shares similar traits with Y/N, but she looks younger, about Regulus’ age. Her arms are crossed, and she observes Sirius oddly, in a manner that makes him believe she can easily guess what Y/N was doing all the time they’ve been away.
‘Where is he?’ asks Y/N.
The young girl points at the host, the man he shook hands with earlier, speaking with Sirius’ father and a couple of older men in the corner of the room.
‘Clara,’ mumbles Y/N with a threatening expression. ‘non dire niente a Papà.’
The young girl rolls her eyes and leaves them. Sirius frowns. Wait a minute, is this girl...
‘Didn’t you tell me the host’s daughter was -’ he mumbles, feeling his hands becoming moist.
‘A pest,’ she smiles. ‘My sister.’
#sirius black#young sirius black#young sirius black x reader#young sirius x reader#sirius x reader#sirius black x reader#sirius black x you#sirius black smut#young sirius black smut#sirus black imagine#sirius black fanfiction#marauders#marauders era#marauders x reader#marauders era fanfiction#hp#hp fanfiction#sirius black fanfic#james potter#remus lupin#harry potter#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter smut#regulus arcturus black#regulus black
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BETWEEN THE NOTES — SEMI EITA x GN!READER
synopsis: for as long as you can remember, you and Semi Eita have always hated each other—but a couple of tender glances and one too many bottles of beer later, you find out that maybe you were looking at it the wrong way this whole time.
genre: fluff, (kinda) enemies to lovers, musician!au, mutual pining but they’re both idiots, jealousy, etc.
warnings: alcohol + intoxication (nothing bad happens), slight suggestive themes, vulgar language, kinda fast paced?
wc: ~2.5k
to: @archivednikes happy birthday shawdy <3
special thanks to: @rintaroll for beta-ing & telling me a lil bit about how bands work and stuff bc idk shit lol :,)
“Semi, get your ass moving,” you huff. “You’re gonna make me late.”
He gives you a smug look and raises a slitted eyebrow. “Did something crawl up your ass and died? What’s up with you?”
You exhale heavily through your nose and stare at him, unimpressed.
“We gotta catch the afternoon train if you wanna reach the venue in time for our gig. This is a really good opportunity for me, don’t you dare mess it up.” you say, gathering the last of your things for the trip.
There is a tingling sensation crawling down your spine, as if someone is staring at you. You look over your shoulder curiously, opening your mouth to utter another snarky remark to get your partner to stop gawking around and get ready.
But the intensity behind his gaze caught you by surprise.
Those hazel eyes of his—ones that are usually sharp and cold—held a sort of softness in them as he looks at you. When you caught him staring, his gaze did not falter one bit.
You couldn’t stop your eyes from traveling down the perfect slope of his nose, continuing down to his pouty lips.
As much as you hate him, you can’t deny that Semi Eita is an attractive man. Heck, even the word attractive isn’t enough to express how infuriatingly hot he is.
Your gaze stays on his lips for a second too long. Have they always looked this soft and inviting?
The dry cough from the opposite side of the room is the only thing that managed to break you out of this trance. Semi Eita’s trance.
Your manager stands by the door, tapping her foot on the wooden tiles impatiently.
“Now, lovebirds,” she narrows her eyes, “Save the PDA for tonight, yeah? We’ve got a schedule to follow.”
You roll your eyes at her, cheeks uncomfortably warm. And just like that, the strange yet tender moment you shared with Semi dissipated into thin air.
。。。
You don’t know if you should take pity on the gray-haired singer or if you should laugh at him.
Currently, Semi’s head is bowed down in shame as he gets an earful from his manager in the middle of a crowded train.
You see, the four of you should’ve arrived at the venue by now. Both your managers are very strict about schedules, and they planned to arrive at the bar two hours before the agreed time.
Thankfully, his bandmates have been a little more punctual than him and have successfully boarded the 4pm train. But Mr. Popular right here just had to stop every few minutes to take pictures with every single fan he met on the way to the station.
“It’s half past five now,” his manager whisper-shouts, “Do you know what that means?”
Semi tries to give her an awkward smile to calm her down. It doesn’t work.
“It’s rush hour! What if we won’t reach the bar in time? It could ruin both your careers, do you know that?” she glares at Semi once again, but there is less bite in her voice now.
“I’m sorry,” Semi starts, plastering a charming smile on his face, “I only wanted to be nice to the fans. Wouldn’t make too good of an impression if I just ignored them, no?”
His manager sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, exasperated. She motions for Semi to stop talking with a wave of her hand.
The singer grins, and out of the corner of your eyes, you can sense his sharp gaze on you once more.
You try to ignore it.
。。。
When your group reaches the bar, Semi’s bandmates are almost done preparing themselves for the gig.
The bar is dimly lit and cool, the multitudes of warm overhead lighting being the only source of light in the room. It’s not too busy tonight, you observe. Some people still donned their work clothes, perhaps rushing over to the bar right after a long day at work—mingling around with friends to let loose for a little and enjoy themselves.
“Dude, where were you?” Aito asks, eyebrows turned downwards in a frown.
Semi pats the guitarist on the side of his head, “Relax, we’ve got plenty of time to prepare.”
Aito rolls his eyes, completely used to his bandmate’s antics.
“Whatever,” he huffs. “By the way, are we gonna have a little after party later?”
“Uh,” Semi’s eyes flicker towards you for one second, then back to Aito, “I dunno man, might be too tired to get wasted tonight.”
The guitarist narrows his eyes. He didn’t miss the way Semi’s gaze lingered on you.
“Y/N,” Aito smirks. “You coming to the after party?”
You were listening to their conversation this whole time, finding the whole exchange quite amusing.
“Eh, I don’t see why not,” you smile sweetly, “It’s gonna be even better now that this dude isn’t coming anyways.” You pointed your thumb at the vocalist.
From where he’s standing, you hear Semi scoff.
“Y’know what?” he sneers, “On second thought, I am going. How does that make you feel, huh?”
You shrug, feigning indifference.
“I literally do not care.”
“Piss off.”
Aito throws his head back in laughter, shaking his head as he walks away from the scene, muttering about people being too clueless and dense for their own damn good.
You adjusted your equipment bag on your shoulder, exhaling loudly to try and calm your heart down.
。。。
It is in moments like these that you remember why you decided to go forth with this career path, no matter how rocky it may be.
Adrenaline courses through your veins as you sing the lyrics of you and Semi’s song; every ounce of the jittery nerves you had just a few moments ago long gone.
There’s nobody else in this world that can ever take your place
Some of the customers are listening intently, others just nodding along to the song, and the rest not even listening at all.
You could hear your heartbeat thumping loudly against your chest, the sweat trickling down your forehead and into your eyes making it harder for you to see the crowd.
And when the day’s all done and dusted, all I ever need is to be in your arms again
You whip your head towards Semi, just like the countless times you rehearsed this song together.
“It shows chemistry,” your manager had said, “play it up for the crowd, will ya?”
The butterflies in your stomach flutters about restlessly when you notice that Semi has been looking at you this whole time.
His eyes—sharp and intense—held your gaze, unabashed. Steady. Sure.
Will you stay tonight? ‘Cause baby you’re all that I need, and you’re all that I want.
And in that moment, with your eyes locked on each other, the world seems to stop.
Nothing else matters, Semi’s lopsided smile says, only you.
。。。
The performance flew by in the blink of an eye, and it’s a little past midnight now. As promised, your managers held a little after party in the shared lounge of your penthouse suite.
It’s not as fancy as it sounds, you smile to yourself. There are suspicious stains on the gray carpet, and the furniture smells vaguely of cigarette smoke and sweat.
Bottles of beers have already littered the floor and glass table, and you haven’t even started drinking.
“Duuuude,” Yuuto slurs, “Why are ya so tense for?”
The bassist points at you and Semi, eyelids drooping as he tries his best to keep them open.
“C’mon guys,” Aito clasps his shoulders and massages them roughly, “Relax a little, we did amazing tonight.”
Semi shrugs his friend’s hands away, annoyed. He snatches an unopened bottle of beer from the cooler and opens the cap with his teeth.
You gulp. He hands you the bottle wordlessly before grabbing another one for himself, chugging it down quickly. You mirror his actions, hoping that the alcohol can dull the annoying fluttering in your stomach that refuses to leave ever since the two of you shared that intimate moment on stage.
For fuck’s sake, what’s going on with me?
Your trick works, in a way. Your stomach feels pleasantly warm now, and your breathing has finally evened out. Another unopened bottle of beer lays invitingly on the couch and you reach for it, opting for a bottle opener instead of doing it like Semi.
“Bro,” Yuuto grins at the singer, drool threatening to leave the corner of his mouth, “Did’ya see that blonde chick in the front row? She was hardcore eye-fucking you dude.”
“Ah,” Semi takes another swig of his beer, a cute flush blossoming in his cheeks.
Wait, what. Cute?
“She gave me her number when we were gathering up our stuff.” He runs his hand through his hair.
“You gonna hit her up or what?” Aito teases, smirking.
The singer shrugs, “Maybe, I dunno.”
Your breath hitches, and Aito’s smirk widens. You raise your eyebrows at him, silently telling him to fuck off.
“Where’s Kai?” you hear Semi ask. Come to think of it, you haven’t seen the drummer since after the show was over.
“Oh,” the guitarist laughs, “Fucker left us for some girl he saw in the bar. Might see him tomorrow morning, might not. Who knows?”
The vocalist hums and walks over to where you’re sitting, plopping down on the old couch.
“The managers?” Semi casually drapes his arm on the back of the sofa. You feel yourself tensing as your heart races uncontrollably, and the singer looks over at you with an unreadable expression on his face.
Aito scratches the back of his neck, quickly losing interest in the conversation.
“They decided to sleep in early. Long day, I guess.”
Semi nods and rests his head on the top of the couch, exposing his defined jawline. His eyelashes look so pretty from this angle, they’re long and fluttery and they almost…
Huh?
“Eita, are you gonna hit that blonde girl up or nah?” Aito provokes, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
You clench your teeth and reach for yet another bottle—your fourth one this past hour. Or fifth. You don’t bother counting. Semi looks over at you again, but this time his eyes holds a sort of concern in them. You scoff to yourself.
“Uh,” the singer looks at his friend weirdly, “Why are you so insistent on this? I did say maybe didn’t I?”
Aito laughs. You almost recoil in disgust.
“Oh nothing,” he chuckles, “It’s just that she’s really hot and she’s your type so—”
You stand up abruptly, knocking over some empty beer bottles by accident. The regret is immediate. You can feel the acid in your stomach traveling up your esophagus, tickling the back of your throat.
Semi quickly stands up when you clasp a hand over your mouth, trying your best to hold it together.
“Shit,” he mutters, “You okay?”
He rubs tiny circles on the small of your back, an action that’s supposed to be soothing but instead causes tingles to run up and down your spine. You shiver.
Another wave of nausea hits before you could respond, causing your knees to almost give out under you.
“Whoa there, angel,” Semi wraps his arm around your waist, holding you flush to his side to support your weight.
You groan softly as your head spins uncomfortably. Droplets of cold sweat is starting to form on your forehead, adding another layer of discomfort upon you.
“You wanna go to your bedroom?” Semi murmurs close to your ear. You shiver again. At this, Semi thought that you’re freezing so he drapes his leather jacket on your shoulders, holding you close.
You nod weakly as you try to blink the black spots in your vision away.
From somewhere around the room, you hear Aito snicker, “Stay safe!”
You turn your head around to give him a deathly glare, but all you see is a big blob of blurriness.
Dammit.
。。。
Semi takes the key card from your bag and pushes the door open, placing your duffel bag on the floor after
He guides you to the bathroom—with gentleness you rarely see from him—and sets the toilet cover down so you can sit on it while he wets a towel with the running tap water.
“You still feel dizzy?” he asks, voice soft.
You stare at his fingers as he wrings the towel and shakes your head.
Semi holds out the cloth and pats your forehead with it, the coolness allowing you to feel a little more refreshed.
“Do you want me to make you some tea?” he wipes the back of your neck carefully.
Shit. Has he always been this thoughtful?
You shake your head again, telling him that you just want to go to sleep.
He sighs and gives you a half-smile, holding out his arm to help you to the bed.
Semi still has it in him to give you a little but of privacy as you wiggle out of your tight jeans, looking away until you slip under the covers.
He helps you pull the plush white comforter closer to your chest, tucking you in.
Your mind doesn’t feel as hazy as it was a few hours ago, but the leftover alcohol coursing through your veins gave you a sort of boost to your impulses.
“Eita,” you whisper, reaching out towards the singer, “Stay?”
The singer halts in his steps and turns to look at you.
“Uh, I don’t know Y/N,” he starts, “You’re drunk right now.”
“No I’m not,” you say, steady voice proving your point. “Please?”
Semi glances over at the door and sighs. He chewed on his lower lip for a few seconds before sighing again.
“Okay.”
。。。
You’re struggling to open your eyes when you wake up, the harsh sunlight streaming into the room completely unfiltered.
Drunk you completely forgot to close the blinds, it seems.
You groan audibly, wanting to pull the covers above your head to hide yourself from this cruel world.
You freeze. Why can you feel someone’s soft breaths on the crown of your head?
Nervously, you reach out in front of you, eyes still shut closed. Oh no.
You force your eyes open, grimacing from the sudden brightness. Your eyes widen at the sight in front of you. Semi Eita, your supposed nemesis, is sleeping soundly a few inches away from you, arms wrapped around your waist.
What the hell happened last night?
A small squeak leaves your mouth as you fully realize the situation you’re in. The small noise wakes Semi up from his slumber, causing him to slowly open his eyes, squinting at the bright light.
“Morning, angel,” he croaks, voice raspy with sleep.
My god does he look pretty in the morning.
You stay there, frozen and unblinking. All the words at the tip of your tongue seem to disappear from existence.
Semi blinks, sitting up quickly.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he rubs his eyes vigorously, “I should’ve said no when you asked me to stay. Fuck, you were drunk and I—”
You grab the back of his neck and pull him closer to you, a small smile gracing your lips.
Your thumb grazes Semi’s bottom lip, dragging it down every so slightly before releasing it, enjoying the way he seems to unravel under your touch.
“Shut up and kiss me, will you?” you murmur, trying to keep your cool as your heart hammers against your chest loudly.
At this, Semi breaks out of his reverie and laughs, “I thought you’d never ask.”
a/n: if you’ve made it this far, please feel free to let me know what you think about this fic! and please REBLOG IF YOU ENJOYED mwah <3
© HAJIMINE — all rights reserved. please do not repost, copy, or claim any of my works as your own, thank you.
#❀ —𝐁𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄#haikyuu x reader#semi eita x reader#haikyuu!!#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu imagines#semi eita imagines#semi eita#haikyuu x you#hq x reader#haikyuu scenarios#!semi
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Mr. Petrus is somewhere in public when a meek stranger approaches him on the street. They immediately recognized him as a Handler—formerly theirs. They appear alone, and half a second from falling to their knees should he so much as look at them a certain way. They try to tell him something but the words catch in their throat and only a quiet noise slips free. How does he react this unexpected interaction?
CW: Pet whump, whumper POV, creepy/intimate whumper, escaped whumpee returns to whumper, dehumanization, collared, implied dubcon/noncon at end, dubcon touch, dubcon kiss
He isn’t usually the type to go out to bars - Luke’s a workaholic on a good week, content to all but live in his Facility sleeping quarters, leaving for supplies or to spend a day out in the sun and then coming right back.
When you love what you do, as they say, you’ll never work a day in your life.
Still, Renford's essentially mandated he take a damn vacation for once. He’s left behind his trainees and headed out to enjoy himself at a bar he used to frequent, back before he found he preferred to frequent the cells the frightened young men are held in, waiting for the slightest touch to remind them they exist.
Luke sits back on a barstool with a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Oh, he’s not supposed to smoke, but this bar doesn’t push the issue and he’s not the only one filling the air with the familiar, acrid scent.
Out on the floor, people dance together, barely lit by dim lights changing color every so often, Red, blue, and green move over sweaty skin, curves and straight lines. Luke enjoys it all. He quirks a smile. He can see, just looking, who here would look fucking gorgeous with a collar buckled around their neck and a little more emptiness inside.
Get ‘em so empty they need someone to fill it up.
Luke’s probably ten years older than the oldest of the people on the dance floor, but that doesn’t bother him. Plenty of people like an older man, and those who don’t… well, if he gets them on the wrong end of his baton, they don’t really get to choose what they like or don’t, now do they?
The beat is a deafening rumble that rolls against his skin in rhythm and Luke hums contentedly. His beer is cool and rolls with citrus sourness along his tongue and down his throat, slightly fizzy compared to the darker stuff. Bright enough to flirt with tasting like cider, or nearly so.
Some local craft brewery shit, probably. In his Facility studio, Luke just keeps some basic Coors. No need to get fancy at home, after all.
Does he even have beer in his actual home? It’s been so long since he’s been there…
Something touches his arm, pulls just slightly at his sleeve, and Luke turns, head tipping to the side, a grin already on his lips.
There’s a lithe, beautiful young man there, with hair dyed a brilliant, ridiculously bright purple, eyes ringed in eyeliner. He has a lip ring, Luke notes, his tongue moving out to run over his own lower lip in thought.
There’s something familiar about the young man, although Luke can’t quite place him. Not exactly.
But the shiver of trepidation mixed with a desperation to have eyes - and more than eyes - on him… Luke knows that well enough. It tells him what he wants to know. His smile widens, just a little. “Evening, pretty boy.”
The young man looks up at him, his hand still hovering just over Luke’s bicep, and his mouth opens like he’ll reply. All that comes out is a soft sound that Luke only hears because a new song has started, slightly off-key piano playing over a heavily-synthesized voice and the slow introduction of a beat.
“What?” Luke’s eyebrows raise. “Use your words.”
The young man takes a step closer, and then another. He’s moving like a newborn fawn, on suddenly-awkward legs like he might fall to his knees at any moment. Luke was watching the dancers before, but now his gaze is wholly caught by the absolute goddamn sexiness of a runaway pet who can’t stop himself from walking back into a cage.
“H-Handler Petrus,” The runaway says, and when Luke’s hand moves to cup his face, the young man tips his head immediately into it. His eyes are watering, wet with tears that haven’t yet fallen. As soon as one slips out, Luke leans slowly forward and licks up the side of his face. The runaway whimpers at the wet heat of his tongue, the casual ownership of the action.
“That’s me,” He murmurs into the young man’s ear. “You know it. Why aren’t you running from me?”
The young man swallows, hard, and turns his head, pressing his own lips in a shivering, fearful brush against Luke’s cheek. “I-I’m hungry,” He says, voice almost too low to pick up. “And… and I don’t-... I don’t w-want-...” His voice trails off, and Luke’s smile only widens as the runaway leans forward and rests his forehead against Luke’s shoulder.
He sighs, setting his beer down half-drunk and turning to run his condensation-cold fingers through that garishly bright purple hair. “You ran away, huh?”
He already knows the answer.
The runaway pet nods without speaking.
“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, is it?” Luke slides off his barstool, shifting to slide an arm around the runaway’s shoulders. He slaps a ten-dollar bill on the bar and walks away, heading for the door, the beat of a song bouncing off his skin right up until they step outside. It’s chilly out here, with a stiff breeze blowing the scent of saltwater through the air around them. It feels a little like walking through the surf, down here at the old warehouse district.
“No. I’m… hungry all the time, I still have to fuck for a place to sleep, people are… mean sometimes, I don’t know. I don’t know what to do, where to go.”
Fuck. He has to make sure the lib people don’t get ahold of this little beauty. He’s exactly what they’re looking to save.
“What’s your number?” He asks, casual as can be. The runaway isn’t wearing long-sleeves or a bracelet, he’s scarred on the inside of his left wrist when Luke takes a peek. Looks like he cut the tattoo off of himself, or had someone else do it, once upon a time.
“654338,” The pet says automatically, without hesitation. “Designation Romantic, Facility 001-”
“Yeah, I got that part.” Luke cuts him off and the pet falls back into silence. “Why’d you run away?” With his blue eyes as cold as ever, Luke lights another cigarette, takes a deep, deep drag, exhales smoke into the air in front of them as they move. The runaway coughs into one hand.
“I just… didn’t want to, anymore. With my owner.”
“You should know that what you want doesn’t fucking matter,” Luke says amiably, but the runaway winces and hunches into himself. Luke watches from the corner of his eye, his own mouth watering at the sight of the pet’s shame, his nervousness. “You don’t exist to get what you want. So why come up to me?”
“I thought maybe-... maybe you could help me.”
“Get back to your owner?”
The pet turns to look up at him, with gorgeous warm brown eyes full of pleading. “No, Handler Petrus. Please, please no. Just… just, to someone else, please, someone who won’t-... hurt me so badly. Please. Please.”
“It’s my job to get any runaway I see back to the Facility, gorgeous thing. Then back home."
“No. No, don’t take me back there! Please, I can’t-... I can’t do the lights again, please. I can't take how he h-hurts when, when he-"
"Yeah, yeah." Luke rolls his eyes. "Wimp."
The pet's eyes close against more tears.
Luke snorts at the sight. Pathetic. “We have pretty strict contracts that ensure runaways go right back to their rightful owners.”
“No, please, just-... can you help me another way?” The runaway goes up on his toes, presses his lips to Luke’s chin, against the corner of his mouth. Those pretty hands move to slide up under Luke’s shirt, cold fingers against his warm stomach. They tease moving downward. There’s a distance in the pet’s eyes, now, separating himself from what he’s doing to earn what he’s desperate for.
Luke considers. Then he has an idea, and he sighs, as if he's won over.
“Tell you what.” He rubs a thumb over the runaway’s lower lip, toys with his lip ring. The pet opens his mouth to show the silver stud on his tongue. Luke’s smile goes slightly cock-eyed, a jolt of heat straight to the pit of his stomach, spreading from there. “I’ve got a friend who might be able to keep you. I’m not going to just hand over anyone, though.”
The pet takes Luke’s thumb into his mouth, sucks lightly, rolling the tongue piercing against the underside in an unspoken promise. He pulls back just to ask, “What do I need to do?”
“I have an apartment, a week’s worth of vacation scheduled, and you can show me just how good you are at earning your keep.”
The runaway swallows with an audible click in his throat, then nods. “I-I can do that.”
“I know you can, baby. I’m the one who trained you. Now, let’s go find out how good you are with that tongue ring.”
Luke leads the pet away, towards his car, smiling contentedly into the night. He can enjoy a week of desperate eagerness, then drug the fuck out of the pretty thing, buckle a collar right back around his neck, and throw him into a cell at WRU to be wiped and put back where he belongs.
Once he’s on the Drip for a couple of days, he won’t even know Luke broke a promise.
He’ll be the same puppy-eager for Luke’s hands and mouth and anything else he wants to give him that he is right now. Plus, Luke’ll get a nice little bonus for turning in a runaway.
This is shaping up to be an excellent vacation.
#luke petrus is a piece of garbage#whump#bbu#box boy universe#box boy#implied dubcon#dubcon touching#dubcon kissing#dubcon kiss#escaped whumpee#referenced starvation#referenced drugging#pet whump#intimate whumper#creepy whumper#luke is such a fucking asshole#the red letter anon
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Don’t look down, Baby Part 1/3
Dean x reader
Summary : Dean told her to ignore the “thing” between them and to jump in any guy’s arms. Any of them but him.
When we think of a guy our Y/n could be with, longing for Dean, it’s usually a nice dude, a little boring, right ? Because who can compete with Dean ? Now, what if this guy was as badass as Dean ?
Characters : Dean Winchesters, Sam Winchester, Reader, Abraham Hale (OC)
Warnings : Angst, jealous Dean, Smut (unprotected sex -you’re smarter than this !-, oral, also kinda lame sex if it’s a warning), cheating, swearing, smoking, drinking... More warnings in the second part.
Wordcount : 6k (yes, just the part one... now you get why I cut it.)
Note : So for the Aestetic, I used the face of Jax Teller from Sons Of Anarchy, and you have to know, even if Abraham Hale looks like him, he is totally an OC.
This is writen both in Reader and Dean’s Pov. Dean’s thought are in italic.
Text divider by the talented @talesmaniac89
Jay’s Masterlist
September 16, 10:33pm
Dean’s POV
I always thought that when Y/n finds a guy, it would be the perfect douche I wanted for her. Some nice dude named Robert, a cop maybe, or a realtor with a friendly family.
He would annoy me to death with his stories about growing up in a farm, and call her Pumpkin. He would worry a little when she goes out with us because he thinks we drink too much when we’re together.
He would tear her from me and I would hate him for that. She would skip a hunt to meet his parents, another to spend a few days in the cabin he rented… But even if it breaks my heart, it would be exactly what I want for her, so I would let her go.
I had it all planned.
But, of course, she didn’t play by the rules.
And that guy is no Robert…
His loud manly laugh tears me from my thoughts. His tattooed hand wraps around his whiskey glass and I turn my head to that waitress that always gives me warm smiles, she’s staring at him now, with the sweetness that was once for me.
Abe.
Ex-gang member, Abe. Bad guy turned good. Raised by the widow of a gang member, in a violent environment, he already had a criminal record at fourteen, started selling guns before he was officially allowed to drink, ended up in prison at Twenty-two.
Sweet smile Abe. Reformed bad boy with an attitude. Became a hunter after he met a vampire gang and slew them to the last. Now defender of the good citizen, he found his fight, and the hunters talk about him as one of the bests.
Afraid of nothing and ready to fight, charismatic, alpha Abe. His muscular arm in the back of my girl, his long blond hair falling on his face when he lights up a cigarette in a grunt of content while she touches his neck.
Abe. My new nemesis.
“So Dean” he says with his deep voice hoarse from smoking too much. “How did you meet my girl ?”
I met her on a hunt, invited her to my room and took her on that wall. Do you remember, Y/n ? Don’t look down baby, look at me.
“On a hunt.”
“That’s how I met her too” he smiles and kisses her temple. “Seems like we have a lot in common.”
“Looks like we do” I state.
Her eyes darken and she turns her head, I know how to read her, she is pissed, and I don’t even know why. I did nothing, I said nothing, and her rock-and-roll version of prince charming is worshiping her, so what causes that bitterness ?
What is it, baby ? Am I missing something ?
“So I heard your brother and you have this fucking palace ?” he gives me a corner smile, smoke coming out of his nose.
“Who told you that ?” I grunt.
What is the point of a secret bunker if it is as secret as a freaking tweet ?
He chuckles and takes a sip of his whiskey, not answering.
Abe never answers all the questions he is asked, maybe it is some cool thing for guys like him, maybe it is his way of look mysterious or powerful. What is sure is, as annoying as it is, it freaking works. But each time he smirks with his eyes lost in the bottom of his glass in a little huff instead of speaking, I get closer to losing it and smashing his pretty face on the table.
“I told him” she says almost coldly. “Like you did all your friends, Abe is my boyfriend, Dean.”
I nod. What can I say, she’s right after all. She’s always right…
She was right about that cop being the bad guy the first time we hunted together, right about the fact that my so-called bond with Amara would fade the second she gets whatever she wanted. She was right about Jack being a good kid but dangerous enough to need to be watched and educated instead of pushed away. Right about Mary hurting me more than I admitted…
She was right when she said I was wrong. The day I told her we shouldn’t sleep together again, that she should just ignore that thing between us and jump in any guy’s arms. Any of them but me…
I really say that : any of them. I did.
Did you choose Abe just to annoy me, baby ? To prove a point ? You had to bring a guy who would beat me at my own grumpy-loner-badass-crap-drink-too-much game, right ?
“That place sounds sure awesome, because Y/n keeps coming back to it” he states, not letting me know the true meaning he puts in that sentence, his piercing blue eyes free of any emotions on the surface.
“Well it’s home for her” I say, and that bastard chuckles. “Is it funny ?”
“Not at all !” he says with a warm and kind laugh, and a friendly tap on my shoulder. “You should relax Dean, you look like the bar is full of demons !”
I stay stern, I know I should probably look friendly, but I rarely hated someone nice that much.
He gets up and kisses her head before he walks away, his manly way to move catching women’s attention, and some men’s too. One of his hand goes through his blond hair while he walks to the bathroom with the other hand deep in his jeans’ pocket.
“So… Abe, huh ?” I ask, the second he’s gone.
I should be more coherent, I know. I want her gone, but I want her for me. I was sure I was ready to see her with someone else, it’s been three years. Three years ! After we only made love six times. She is not mine, she never was.
And I thought calling her Baby in my head would make me strong. It’s a weird feeling, like I could let her be happy, but still feel special. I would have been the passion of her youth, the one that died young and of which she would think a little when she rocks her baby in her pretty house…
I had somehow romanticized my heartbreak.
But that doesn’t feel romantic at all. And all I can think of is that he is passion too, I’m not dead, and I just have to see him touch her and imagine them at night…
“Yes” she says, still with that bitterness in her voice. “You could make an effort, Dean. He has been nothing but nice, and you act like he’s an enemy.”
“I haven’t decided if he is one yet.”
She rolls her eyes and shakes her head in disapproval.
I recognize hurt. My Y/n, when she’s hurt, she gets angry. Always. And I made her angry so often. Her irritation is growing, I can see it in her burning eyes.
“You can’t do that” she says low. “You can’t treat him like that, no one gives you the right.”
“And him ?” I dare asking, staring at her reddened face. “Does he treat you right ?”
Her eyes fills with tears again and her jaw clenches.
“Better than you did, you mean ?” her words feel like a stab in my heart.
Reader’s POV
I didn’t want to say that, it came out by itself.
I’m thin-skinned lately. I feel like I could cry or scream any moment, all the time. My emotions have always been loud, my sensibility overwhelming, but for a few weeks I’m drowning.
The fact that I decided to try to get over Dean Winchester probably caused that.
A long time ago, I thought living with Dean without ever having him would be the worst, then I saw him with other women and was convinced I was mistaking before : the worst was definitely that. How wrong was I ?
The worst is having had him. Not once, but several times, each time a little more intimate. More kisses, more touches, more suspended seconds watching in each other’s eyes… Until we spent that night together, that last night, and he fell asleep against me for the first time.
It was over. It was too much for Dean, and not enough for me.
Dean Winchester can’t belong to anyone, not again. He doesn’t want to be a boyfriend, and he doesn’t want me to be his girl ; who am I to insist ?
“Well, that’s a minimum” he answers in a soft groan after a little while, and my heart breaks because I just did what I swore I would never do : Reproach him for any of it.
“I’m sorry” I sigh, thinking of those weeks after the last night, when I had to hide the worst pain I ever felt because I didn’t want him to feel bad about not wanting me.
I still do... -feel that pain and try to hide- because Abe or not, I still live with Dean and he doesn’t deserve to carry my pain on top of the world on his shoulders.
“Can you at least try ?” I beg, low, seeing my boyfriend getting out of the restroom but stopping next to the door to talk to someone he obviously knows.
“Yes” Dean answers. “I’m just… He’s a hunter and…”
“He’s a good man” I assure him, looking at Abe walking toward us above Dean’s shoulder. “He comes from a dark place, like us, but he is a good man.”
September 21, 08:12pm
“That place is crazy !” Abe says, sitting at the table of the library. “I have never seen anything like this.”
While Sam tells him a little more about the bunker, I look at my boyfriend.
I stare at him, trying to get rid of that uncomfortable impression, that feeling screaming that he doesn’t belong here ; because if he doesn’t belong in the bunker, then he probably just has nothing to do in my life.
A lot of memories cross my mind, like it happens a lot lately.
The memory of entering the bunker for the first time and deeply knowing that, as long as I am welcome here, this would be my home. Because it just feels right and because, even if I’m not the granddaughter of Henri Winchester, he trusted me with this place, as much as he trusted his family. That man actually welcomed me like Mary never really did, like I was just as legit as blood.
At his frank smile, the memory of meeting Abe crosses me too. I was alone in this hunter bar, trying to get information for a case. I hadn’t told Sam and Dean that I would go there, because I know how much uncomfortable the hunter community makes them. And I was introduced to him : Abraham Hale. I found him so beautiful, with his mischievous smile that seemed to mock the entire world, his wheat blond hair and his tattoos. Something felt so safe about him, not because he looked like a bad boy, but because he was light and happy, laughing at everything and taking nothing seriously… All that Dean wasn’t.
I loved his wild energy right away. Abe was like the drums in a rock song, like summer wind. In his arms, I forgot about Dean for a few seconds a day during the first weeks. We spent days sleeping and having sex behind the curtains of that motel room, hiding from summer heat, and nights drinking and listen to rock music...
But now I look at him, his bright blue eyes seem pale next to the deep green looking back, and his beauty is bland.
“Thank you for showing me your home, Treasure” he says, putting a tender hand on my back like he always does.
And my eyes cross Dean’s.
I know what he’s thinking, he’s cringing at the nickname, and that reminds me why I am with Abe : Dean never gave me a nickname, he never called me anything else than my name, he will never and even when others do, he thinks it’s lame and cheesy.
Dean’s POV
That hurt on her face again.
Baby, you can’t look at me like that each time he calls you Treasure . I don’t like it, but you’re supposed to do.
This is much harder than I thought, and I was aware it would be impossible.
Each and every one of his actions makes me face my own contradictions : The more loving he is, the more I want to push him away from her. But the more she seems distant and to have her head in the clouds, the more it eases the pain. Am I selfish enough to hate her happiness even though I love her ?
I was in control, during those three years not touching her, my heart was aching with craving and my soul was screaming at me to make her love me. But as much as the heartbreak was constant, I had chosen it. I was in control.
I never realize that it was only bearable because she was still here, my partner, my best friend, my roommate. Mine.
Now she took it back. She raised her middle finger right in my face and decided she wouldn’t be mine anymore.
And that is a whole new level of pain.
I don’t sleep when she’s not home, and sometimes food just won’t let me eat it. She texts during our movie nights and wears that pendant he gave her. I hate that pendant because it reminds me I never gave her a present. Not once in all those years.
“Another drink ?” Y/n asks him with the bottle in her hand.
“Don’t you drive ?” I cut him before he answers and I see her eyes shoot me with imaginary bullets.
I’m sorry Baby but it’s movie night tonight, can’t he just leave already ?
“He’s right” she says giving me a little hope that she will ask him to leave soon. “You should stay for the night.”
My breathing gets stuck in my lungs.
No Baby, don’t do that to me. Please.
“With pleasure !” he smiles.
September 21, 11:49pm
Reader’s Pov
He grabs my thigh to lift it a little and grunt in my ear. His kisses are hot on my neck, his heavy body moving cautiously on top of me.
My eyes are on the ceiling, my hands on his sweaty muscular back and I wait.
Damn, what is happening ? He’s close, I am going to fake it ? I swore I would never fake, I swore if the guy can’t get me there, he should know, but… Abe is not the problem, I am.
I just watch the ceiling wondering what is wrong with me. He did everything right, nice foreplays and those love words he always has for me. But nothing seems to turn me on anymore, and without the need and the pleasure, his thrusts are just uncomfortable and I feel weird.
Come already.
I sigh. I know what is making this impossible. Dean. This fucker is the last I had in my own bed, the only one in fact. And everything reminds me that Abe is not Dean fucking Winchester !
“You okay Treasure ?” he pants in my ear, nibbling at it.
I’m not a freaking snack, what is it with his mouth and teeth always ?
“Yes” I fake a moan. “I’m close Abe, come.”
Just don’t be loud, that would be so awkward.
When he loses rhythm, I close my eyes at the relief, it won’t be long now, make it stop. He shakes a little and grunt loud, filling the condom inside of me ; and, to make my fake moans credible, I clench my walls around him one time or two, rolling my eyes at his proud groan.
Sex with Abe used to be so much more than this. I'm getting frustrated. Did I break something in me ? Why can't I enjoy anything anymore ?
He rolls on my side, panting, and smiles tenderly at me. He’s beautiful, I have to admit that, and he’s nice and loving.
“You’re amazing” he hums. “I guess I can’t smoke in your bedroom ?”
“I don’t mind” I answer sincerely. “The air co is magical, just, don’t smoke more than one.”
He sits on the bed to get his pants, his beautiful tattooed back on me. The smoke flies in pretty wreath. I put my hand on the lion tattooed on his back. It suits him, with his solar attitude and his confidence, his beautiful blond hair…
Yet I keep longing for my wolf.
Dean’s Pov
Now I know I could kill him. And now I know what the limit amount of pain I can take is.
I pace my room like a crazy man. He is taking her, my Baby. He is sinking inside of her and stealing pleasure. Does she wrap her legs around him like she always did with me ? To push me deeper. Is she as responsive ? As lost in pleasure as she was ? With that way only she has too beg for more with her entire body, voice strangled and arms caging me the best she can…
Is she…
“F-fuck…” I whine, holding my heart.
I think I just felt it break.
Baby…
Breathing is painful now, I feel like I’m drowning.
Baby… Why did you have to do that to me ? I know I hurt you but your revenge is unbearable.
I sit on my bed, still holding my chest.
I can’t take it, you know.
“Shit” I grunt.
How can this kind of familiar panic attack be back ? How can this hurt so much ? It’s not Hell, it’s not Purgatory…
“It is Hell” I say out loud.
Loosing you, Baby. It’s Hell. Do you love him ? Because…
“Fuck, I love her” I whine.
September 28, 06:05pm
Sitting in my “Fortress of Deanitude”, I wait. The tray with snacks is there, beers too, and Netflix is ready for our next episode of Stanger Things.
But there is a big chance she won’t come. Our movie nights are getting rarer and rarer, like our time together in general. And this place is slowly becoming a Fortress of Solitude…
You never know how much you need something until you lost it, right ? I was stupid enough to think I could be stronger than the need for her and now look at me, alone in that big empty room in a bigger emptier bunker.
All I can think of is how much each day pulls her closer to him and further from me. They are building memories in which I’m not, they are building an intimacy that I lost three years ago. She will forget me and he will have her, maybe even make her change a little, until one day she is among those people who talk about their personal tastes by saying “we”. “We prefer red wine”.
Ew.
Is he going to change my girl, for real ? Make her love Led Zeppelin a little less, make her a little less her, make her want other things, another life, need me less ? Our things will become unimportant and be replaced by all kind of other things I have no idea about.
I take a long sip of my glass. It’s not like I had my word to say anyway. I lost her. I lost her in the worst way possible : willingly.
But just when I’m about to get up and go put the snacks away, she opens the door, panting a little, like she had ran.
“Dean” she says entering the room. “I’m sorry. There was an accident on the road and the traffic was disturbed.”
You were at his place, Baby, and you ran to me ?
A little smile lights up my face when her presence revive my heart.
“It’s okay” I say.
“I’m late, but I have…” she takes her hand out of her purse. “Giant skittles !”
“You found them ?” I smile, sitting straighter when she hands me a bag.
Our things are not all gone. And she still cares about me and about our time together.
“Yup ! I made Abe stop in every shop yesterday.”
So you think of me when you’re with him, Baby ? Have you ever thought of me while he was inside of you ?
“Sit” I pat the armchair next to mine. “Let’s find out if Dusty’s girlfriend exists !”
“I really hope !” she exclaims, taking off her jacket.
I try not to look at her, but when she quickly takes off her jeans to slip in her pajamas pants, I swallow hard. Those thighs could have been for me, and I could have watched the show while holding her.
She sits with her knees up against her chest in the big chair next to me, and takes a beer. My eyes are glued to her, looking for anything unusual, and fearing it more than anything in the same time.
“What ?” she calls me out of my thoughts.
“Nothing, I…” have no idea how to finish this sentence.
“I’m still okay you know ?” she says without looking at me, playing with the label of her beer bottle. “You always stare at me like something had happened to me. I know what you think of Abraham, but he doesn’t treat me bad.”
Reader’s Pov
“I’m sorry” he sighs. “You know how protective I can get. Especially with you…”
A chuckle escapes me and I know he doesn’t like it, but protective with me ? He broke my heart. He ripped it and threw it on the floor because I had said those words.
“Yeah…” I nod, nibbling at my lip. “You won’t find bruises on me.”
He doesn’t answer.
When did we become like this ?
After a silence, he hands me candies and presses play. But, chewing on sugar and my eyes on the screen, I keep my full attention on him.
I have everything any girl would want : A lover with hot blood, beauty and a heart of gold. But I'm not any girl, and the only thing I want is Dean Winchester. The genius who thinks he's dumb, the scared little boy who lost his mom, the leader, the victim of his fate, the killer, the loyal friend, the rebel, the torturer, the perfect brother, the wary hunter, the crappy dancer ; grumpy Dean, childish Dean, stubborn Dean, all of Dean...
I look at him and my eyes travel down his neck, his beard is fighting to grow back there but I know he won't let it. The slow movements of his chest are mesmerizing. My eyes go down, to his thighs and crotch...
I really shouldn't let myself look there but his smell and aura are like a mermaid song and I'm drowning. His strength is radiating of him and I feel myself respond to it in everyone of my heartbeats.
He could make me scream. He always did, so easily. Dean made me cry of pleasure more than once, sometimes without any effort, the brushes of his fingers, the burning of his kisses... And when he finally buried himself inside of me, it was like a firework in Heaven. He never had to do anything really special...
And now I wonder : Is something broken about me ? Abe is passionate and loving, we used to work great, he was easy as whiskey. And he loves me. Why am I unable to enjoy any of it lately ?
My eyes trace the bump in Dean’s pants and I remember the simple ecstasy of feeling his cock twitch for me. Dean... I bite my lip to hold back the moan hanging on my tongue. His thigh moves a little, strong muscles hidden in his jeans, and I think of his stomach contracting that time he came on my tongue. I…
“I see you” his deep serious voice hits the air like thunder.
I look up to meet his eyes and realize I have been staring at his crotch, licking my lips and probably visibly holding back moans.
“Do you need something ?” he asks with a proud aura on his face.
I want to punch that expression off of his perfect features.
I look down and sigh. Yes, I do. I need him, not only want like I would like to think, but need indeed. I need him to feel my body, to make it alive, and to hear my soul breathe again.
“Dean…” I just say.
Like it was an answer or reproach but of course, he hears it for what it is.
A call.
So he gets up, suddenly so tall that he eclipses the TV, the light and my will. He comes in front of me, standing there, making me look up timidly through my lashes. His strong hand lands cautiously on my cheek, gently holding my face while I lean on his touch.
I can resist him. I can.
I think of Abe's sweet smile, of his deep voice and his arms around me. I think of this night he told me about jail and I tried all I could to make him feel safe again, that was a beautiful moment... We are something beautiful Abe and me. We are going to make it right, to make it count. Right ?
As my heart fights itself, playing all the love songs I know at once in my head in a deafening dim of emotions, my eyes fill with tears. I know what is going to happen, and the cruel god writing my story can stop there, the end is already obvious.
I can't resist Dean. I just can't.
And Abe will cry, right ? He trusts me. He will take his bag and yell maybe, the sun inside of him will get clouded, he will drive away. Then I will let my body slide on the door frame, unable to hold my weight up, because I will have broken the only man that ever truly loved me.
I look down to hide the pain from Dean, but he knows me better.
"I can leave" he says.
But it's the last thing I want because I miss him, I miss him like a part of me died years ago and I still feel empty and cold... I miss him when I'm alone, and even more when I'm not.
When he's about to move, take a step back to leave me alone, I grab his belt and hold him in place firmly. I have no plan, no solid thought, but I know I can't be away from him for now. He smells both like the most familiar home and the wildest dream.
My other hand grazes the fabric of his jeans on his thigh, I close my eyes for a second and a little whimper escapes me. I started touching Dean less than a day after meeting him, and it seems I can't be around him without having my hands on his body.
He hums, staring down at me, bow legs slightly parted like he needed balance, like he was gripping the floor for both of us. Dean had always been my anchor. His shoulders look wider from down here and I want nothing more than letting my hands grab his butt to rub my cheek on his crotch like a cat marking its territory.
"Touch me like you need it, Baby" he murmurs and a little sob escapes me unexpectedly.
He never ever called me Baby.
He never gave me any nickname like he never gave me the place I thought I could take in his heart. And Abe, he calls me Treasure. He welcomed me in his heart...
"What's wrong ?" Dean asks like he didn't know.
Dean Winchester is the world's greatest hero, saved basically everyone's life without any reward, and for this he is a saint ; and still, he's the one that is going to be the end of me. Hero or not, he's my villain.
"Everything is wrong, Dean" I answer in a broken voice. "Everything."
He squats in front of me and my hand panics at losing my grip on his belt so it grasps his flannel like my life depends on it.
"Not everything" he whispers, bending to let his poisonous lips graze my skin.
My treacherous mouth opens in reflex at the proximity of his, making him respond by biting my lower lip. I whimper again and pull him closer.
"I got you" he states, letting his burning lips trace down my chin and my neck followed by his thumb, scratching my skin with his short nail. And I catch fire.
I let my head falls back and I surrender totally.
That's how bad he is for me : I could let him break my heart again without an hesitation, after it took me years to recover just enough to just function. And oh, I will. I will shatter the heart of the man that trusts me just to let Dean selfishly remind me how much I love him.
His breath is burning my skin, spreading in the fabric of my t-shirt when he buries his face on my chest, opening his mouth wide to pretend to bite my breast, hand cupping my sides like he had missed me for real. I let go of the plaid fabric to grip the short strand of his hair like I can.
"Dean..." the moan I have been holding comes out, filling the room with sin and the echo of future lies.
"I got you" he repeats.
His hungry hands seize my jeans and tear it open, fighting the metallic button's resistance brutally. The fabric hurts my lower back in a last resistance but is ripped off of me the second after, taking my panties in its way.
And before I can sit straighter now that I'm on the edge of the chair, before I can talk, think or breath. Dean's anaconda arms grab my thighs firmly and his burning breath is on my folds.
"Wh-" I start but what can I say now.
He kisses my folds like no men ever did : like he was in love with that part of me. An open mouth kiss, tongue eagerly lapping my juice from my entrance to my clit.
"AH !" I scream, arching my back but Dean doesn't take a second to breathe, burying his face on me.
I squirm, licking my lips like I was kissing him back but the place he is devouring can only respond with throbs and getting soaked, which is does.
I'm panting, I'm being eaten by the flames of that indescribable pleasure that is back. My stomach is shaking, my temples are beating so loud. I suck a breath when he sucks at my clit, moist hand gripping the leather of the chair.
"Dean" I moan again in the subdued light of the warm room.
He answers with a hum, and his nimble tongue pushes at my entrance, making my thighs shake violently in the vise grip of his arms.
I can't escape what Dean does to me so I let go.
My whole body falls backward when I come, harder than I have in years, holding his hair so tight it might hurt him, legs shaken by electricity, back arching and chest fighting itself to breath. My sensible clit seems to have nerves in my whole body and I fall silent, covered in sweat, suffocated by a forbidden crushing orgasm.
I whimper desperately, limp and lost, panting in the chair like I didn't realize yet what just hit me. But Dean knows what he's doing, he knows where this goes.
He opens his jeans, I can feel it even though I don't see him, my head still back, moaning at the caresses of his tongue on my neck. I bite my lip hard, hand moving from the arm of the chair to his, to feel his eagerness.
And he grabs my thighs harshly, making me fall on the floor with him and holds my back when I can't, keeping me against him.
"So wrong..." I whisper in a dying echo of my disgrace.
His hand grasps my face firmly and makes me look at him. His eyes have this fire in them, he clenches his jaw when I roll my lips a little, wetting his craved cock on me, dying of being finally filled by him.
"Keep your eyes on me" he groans, grabbing his length to guide it at my throbbing entrance.
"Dean..." I moan, fingers reaching his stomach under his clothes to feel it tremble.
"Eyes on me baby" he repeats low.
Dean's Pov
She can't think of him. Not now. I need her with me, I need her for me.
Feel me, baby.
I smile slightly when she dives her unfocused pupils in my eyes. She's perfect and I love her ; but I must say when she seems to surrender so completely to my touch, that's when forgot why I asked her to stay away.
When I enter her, her phone lights up once again in her back, on the floor. I groan loud as she wraps me like only she can, like she was trying to suck me inside her core. She's shaking, she's fighting to keep her eyes on me and I'm fighting that urge to grab her phone and shatter it in a million pieces against the wall.
She gasps, her body threatening to fall back so I hold her.
That's it baby, stay with me, feel me, let me take you like I used to when you were mine.
My hand fists her hair and my mouth gets attracted to her pulse point so I bend to suck at it, barely thrusting for now, just enjoying to be inside of her, feeling her pulsating with desire, the concrete hard floor digging in my knees.
Her arms wrap around me, she cling to me and I try to ignore my jealousy shouting at me.
Baby, you try to ignore me but can he do that to you ? Can he turn you into a purring cat like that ?
"Dean" she moans, clenching around me, her thighs trying to get herself even closer so she takes me impossibly deeper.
"Say you want me" I murmur against her skin in a voice I barely recognize.
"I want you" she gives in, exhaling in my ear.
Behind her, her phone lights up one more time with a text : "I found us a case in California, Treasure."
=> PART 2
FEEDBACK IS GOLD
Tags : @parinarain @mogaruke @masterof-agony @rainflowermoon @tftumblin @deans-baby-momma @roonyxx @thefaithfulwriter @vicariouslythruspn @emeow1496 @daryldixonandfrogs @holylulusworld @cocklesbelli @sandlee44 @screenchingartisancashbailiff @donnaintx @stormchasingchick32 @akshi8278 @magssteenkamp @sister-winchesters99 @neii3n @lyss-dw79 @im-a-shrub @sadwaywardkid@hopelesslydevotedtoyou1912 @slyqueenj @i-love-superhero @waywardsisterandpie @sunsetsandbooks @mrspeacem1nusone @stylesismyhubs @deanwanddamons @jawritter @peridottea91 @chelsea072498 @chocolateheart @vicmc624 @teresa-67 @jessie-michael @doctor-hp-mcu @hawkerz12 @mariaenchanted @hobby27
#supernatural#supernatural fanfiction#SPN#spn fic#SPNFamily#spn dean x reader#dean winchester#Supernatural Dean Winchester#dean x reader#dean x y/n#dean winchester x reader#Smut#dean winchester smut#fluff#dean winchester fluff#jealous dean winchester#cheating#OC#angst#jay and dean#part 1#don't look down baby
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