#Both when he's lost to alcoholism and when he's absent for the final and most desperately awful days of the Expedition limping south
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saints-who-never-existed ¡ 1 year ago
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"Seconds in command are a fascinating, if somewhat doleful, bunch: their labour is often as great, or greater, than those under whom they serve, and their character is less often blemished by egoism and hubris. After all, if it had been, they'd never have lasted very long in such a nearly commanding position. Sometimes, however, when the firsts are fallen, the story of the seconds takes on a grim and strange fascination: we yearn to see how they will perform when the mantle of responsibility is fitted to their shoulders."
Russell Potter reviewing Smith's 'Captain Francis Crozier: Last Man Standing?'
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dreamcubed ¡ 10 months ago
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you need to calm down | theodore nott x reader
song; you need to calm down [taylor swift] pairing; theodore nott x fem!muggle-born!reader genre; e2l, smut, angst word count; 5,9k timeline; subsidiary 8th year warnings; swearing, alcohol consumption, implied drug consumption, hook-up, drunk sex, piv, oral sex (male and female receiving), discrimination (muggle-borns), smoking, violence, blood, mentions of the war, arguments, yelling summary; after returning to hogwarts for a subsidiary 8th year to make up for the loss of 7th year due to the war, you are a completely different person, and muggle-born-hating theo finds himself obsessed with you
masterlist
"stressing and obsessing about somebody else is no fun."
MINORS DNI!!! 18+ content.
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In the time that the Second Wizarding War had been going on, you had been absent from Hogwarts, attending a muggle school under a fake name. Also in that time, you had changed significantly, partially to help your cover, but also because you had made muggle friends with similar styles and decided that you loved it. There were no uniforms at muggle college, so you were able to explore. These days you loved having black hair, having both your septum and nose pierced, and dressing almost entirely in black.
Your witch friends hadn't recognised you when you showed up at the Summer party you had received an invite to, after Voldemort was defeated and you were able to come out of hiding. The party you were attending was for seventh and eighth years— eighth year being introduced as a subsidiary for the education lost last year. Even most of those who had attended seventh year elected to return, as the final exams had never taken place, and what they had learned had been heavily rooted in the dark arts.
The party was booming, the walls of the massive house shaking with the sound of the music. You had consumed your fair share of alcohol, amongst other things, and had enjoyed catching up with everyone you had missed so dearly.
And that was when you saw him watching you.
Theodore Nott, a Slytherin boy in your year, who was from a wealthy pure-blooded family. A cigarette hung from his lips, and the smoke billowing around him sent a shiver up your spine. He was a sexy man, personality aside, and intoxicated you conveniently forgot about his attitude towards muggle-borns. Fuck, maybe he had changed?
He started approaching you, eyes raking up and down your accentuated figure, and he lingered a while on your fishnets. When he was close enough to talk, he said a simple statement, "I've never seen you before."
Theodore Nott hadn't changed. Not one bit. While he had never wished death upon muggle-borns like Voldemort, he had despised them— viewed them as lesser than he. He had seen you, laughing with your friends and seductively moving your hips, and assumed you were from the year below. You knew in that moment that he didn't recognise muggle-born goody-two-shoes Y/N L/N.
But, you were too drunk to ignore the red flags.
"No?" you murmured, "What are your first thoughts?"
He smirked, "I think I'm in for a very interesting night."
You chuckled, "I'll say."
His hands found your hips, and he began swaying with you to the music, which made you move your body closer to his. Even in the warmth of the room, the heat of his body hit you like an electric spark, coursing through you— straight to your core.
He moved even closer, his hot breath fanning against your neck as his hands moved round to your back. Then he lifted his head, his lips close to yours, and you let your eyes flutter shut as the kiss began. It was passionate: a hazy, powerful passion that had every hair on your body standing on end. His hands lowered to your ass, and squeezed, bringing a gasp from your lips, which he took as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.
All of a sudden, he pulled away, only to whisper in your ear, "Wanna find somewhere more private?"
"Lead the way," you said breathlessly, and he took your hand in his.
Neither of you knew whose bedroom you had ended up in, but it was empty and had a lock on the door, so it was ideal. Sure, a little unlocking charm could get someone in, but hopefully they would realise what was going on inside if the door was locked.
Theo wasted no time in pressing his lips to yours again, pushing you back until you fell on to the bed, pulling him with you. He moved down to your neck, kissing and sucking in a manner that would definitely leave hickeys, before he returned to your lips. You tugged at his shirt, and he let you pull it over his head, revealing a toned chest and arms that had you drooling.
He smirked at your loss of composure and beckoned towards your shirt, "Your turn, miss."
This time, you smirked, and held up your arms to allow him to remove your upper body clothing. First your tight black mesh top, and then your bra, freeing your boobs for him to gaze at. "Look who's drooling now."
Your statement made him snap out of his shock: clearly the sight of your nipple piercings had been a new experience for him. He attacked your lips with a new fervour, then moved down to suck on your nipple and its barbell. Gasps escaped you at the sensation, and you arched your back up instinctively.
"You're so sexy," he stopped for breath, complimenting you, "How have I never seen you before?"
Your breath hitched, and for a moment the reality of the situation came back to you. Just as quickly, though, it left again, as he began work on your other nipple. It was a wonderful feeling, but you needed more, so you pushed him over until you were on top and began unbuckling his trousers.
His dick was big and thick, and you could tell by the glint in his eyes as he looked down at you that he knew and was proud. You shook your head, bringing your lips to the tip and pressing a gentle kiss. Your teasing didn't last for long, however, as you soon gave into the urge to take it into your mouth. He groaned deliciously in response, and you took that as your cue to lick a strip up the side as you began fondling his balls.
"Just like that, baby," he moaned, making you realise he hadn't even asked for your name.
You took him in your mouth again, this time going as far down as your throat would allow, feeling the urge to gag building up in you. His louder groans made the effort worth it, though, as you deepthroated him. Pulling away for breath, you looked up at him with doe eyes and said, "If I'm sucking your dick, you might as well eat me out." And with that, you pulled your tights and panties down, leaving only your skirt on, before sitting on his face assertively.
The action made him groan more, and you leaned down to continue work on his dick as you felt him find your clit almost immediately. His tongue ministrations had you moaning around his dick, making you begin grinding on his face out of reflex. If you weren't drunk, you wouldn't be nearly this shameless and forward.
To his credit, he ate you out like a man starved, and it wasn't long before the pleasure became so much you had to give up on his dick and give in to the sensation.
"Fuck, Theo, I'm gonna come," you moaned, and his movements only got quicker, until you felt your core tighten and then release. Your body convulsed as he rode you through the high.
Eventually, you got off his face.
"D'you have condoms?" you asked, knowing he hadn't yet finished and also that you weren't yet satisfied.
"Always." He reached for his trousers over the side of the bed and pulled a condom out of his wallet.
You took it from him, tearing the packet with your teeth whilst making eye contact, and carefully sheathing his dick. His breath hitched once you were done: the only warning you got before he got up and pushed you down on to all fours, lining himself up behind you. The push in wasn't difficult, since you were quite well prepared, but it was still sensationally tight for him.
"Fuck, baby," he grunted, pushing in the last couple inches, "You feel so fuckin' good. So wet for me."
In reply, you moaned, and he took that as his cue to begin moving.
He pushed up your skirt to slap your ass, leaving a red imprint on your cheek, before gripping your hips and picking up the pace. You became a mess beneath him, even more so when one of his hands snuck around to begin rubbing circles on your clit. The bedsheets were crumpled in your hands with how tight you were gripping them, but Theo didn't stop.
"Oh, fuck, I'm gonna-" he cut himself off with a grunt.
"Me too," you squeaked out.
"Come with me." The assertive way in which he said it had you falling apart yet again, and by the way his movements were becoming sloppy, you could guess that he was too. When he then collapsed next to you, you knew that your guess had been correct.
Turning to lay on your back, you let out a content sigh.
"You know my name," he said.
You chuckled breathlessly.
"Who are you?"
You shrugged, deciding that you had given yourself enough time to regain your composure and getting up off the bed to clothe yourself. "You'll see," you said as you pulled your final clothing item back on.
And, with that concluding comment, you left Theo speechless on a random bed of the host's house.
***
You told no one of that night, deciding that you didn't need to hear your friends say what a stupid idea it was for you as a muggle-born to fuck a pure-blood supremacist. You already knew that yourself, but that didn't stop you from dreaming about how his tongue felt against your pussy, or how his hands felt on your body. Merlin, it was the best sex that you had ever had, and it just had to be with someone who would never want you again after finding out the truth.
It was on the train to Hogwarts that you saw him next. Despite how excited you were to return to the castle after over a year, the anxiety of your next meeting with Theo had been consuming you. And, in a lit up train in your classic school uniform, you were a lot more recognisable than in the dark in your own clothes. Especially considering you were with your friend group.
You stared at him as he stood in the doorway of you and your friends' compartment, with Mattheo Riddle and Lorenzo Berkshire stood behind him. They were likely on the hunt for some younger years to belittle.
"Well, Miss Goody-Two-Shoes has certainly changed a lot, hasn't she?" Riddle chuckled from behind Theo, who was simply staring at you with widened eyes and a clenched jaw.
"Theo? Mate? You alright?" Berkshire asked, snapping his friend out of his daze.
"Yeah, yeah, fine," he said dismissively, "Let's go."
His friends appeared confused, but didn't question it.
Your friends, however, did.
"What the fuck was up with that?" your best friend, Elena, asked, "Is the man scared of a couple piercings or something?"
She didn't even know what she was saying when she said that, you thought to yourself, thinking back to his reaction to your nipple piercings. You simply shrugged at her, "He just hates to see a muggle-born succeed."
Everyone agreed with hums, and the conversation shifted to other subjects.
***
Theodore Nott had spent the last two weeks of Summer wondering what the fuck the mysterious girl he fucked at a party meant by, "You'll see," and then following that up with a wank using memories of you. But, in that moment, stood in front of you on the Hogwarts Express, where you were in better lighting and more recognisable attire, he felt the world crash down around him.
How had he fucked a mudblood? The one thing that was ingrained into his brain since childhood to never do? Ever? The worst part is, he hadn't just liked the sex, he had loved it. He had already had numerous wet dreams about your lips and your boobs and your ass. And now? Now he had to push all of that aside because he couldn't ever fuck you again.
He just couldn't.
"Theo- Earth to Theo," the voice of Lorenzo next to him brought him from his thoughts.
"What?" he snapped back.
"What's got you so worked up?"
Mattheo chuckled, "Can't you see him staring at mudblood L/N? I can't tell if you wanna kill her or fuck her."
That statement earned Mattheo a glare from Theo.
"Maybe both?" Lorenzo suggested, making them both laugh.
"Who was it again that you hooked up with at the party?" Mattheo asked before shovelling food into his mouth.
"He didn't say, remember? Said she never told him her name."
"It doesn't matter," Theo spat.
Lorenzo and Mattheo exchanged looks as realisation dawned on them, and they both slowly turned to Theo who was still glaring daggers in your direction.
"No, you didn't..." Mattheo said first.
Theo said nothing.
"You fucked a mudblood," Lorenzo stated, finishing Mattheo's thought.
"You didn't realise it was L/N," Mattheo continued.
"She'd changed a lot, okay?" Theo said angrily, "I thought she was from the year below or something."
His two friends began howling with laughter, meanwhile Theo sat brooding in silence at the Slytherin table.
***
Saturday rolled around, and you were relieved to be able to shed the school uniform and tug on your clothes that had become an important part of you. Thankfully, Hogwarts hadn't been too strict about your piercings, in fact you had even received compliments from some professors. But, honestly, the rules weren't all that strict since it was still a sensitive time with many grieving from the war.
The Summer weather was still lingering, and you basked in the sunlight as you walked down one of the open hallways, watching first years giggling amongst themselves as they played with their new magic skills. It brought a smile to your face, to see things returning to normal; you had missed Hogwarts dearly while you had been away, not knowing how long you would have to remain in hiding. You had even begun applications for muggle university— because, really, how could you have known whether it would be one year or ten before you could freely be a witch again?
You turned a corner, and in your drifted thoughts, didn't notice the person walking around the other way until it was too late and your shoulders had shoved against each other.
"Shit, sorry," you muttered, realising all too late that it was Theo. He was glaring at you, just like he had at every meal and every class you shared all week.
"Watch where you're going, mudblood," he snapped.
Rolling your eyes, you mumbled, "Wasn't a problem three weeks ago."
"Never speak of that," he said lowly, his voice threatening.
"Why? Annoyed sex with a mudblood was good?" you retorted, and then you found yourself pinned up against the wall.
"Watch your mouth, miss."
"Don't you mean 'baby'?" you smirked, relishing in the way his eyes darkened.
You almost missed the way his gaze flicked to your lips, but then he pulled away, refusing to look at you.
"Fuck you, L/N," he spat, storming off, and you watched in amusement with your back still against the wall.
***
Theodore Nott was livid. Absolutely livid. You wound him up in the worst way possible, only for him to try and scare you- fail- and then find himself wanting nothing more than to smash his lips on to yours. When you reminded him of the pet name he used while you were fucking, the blood in his body rushed straight to his dick: the feeling of his arms gripping yours and the close proximity had felt electric. Your very presence set him on fire in every single way possible.
He hated every second.
With previous hook-ups, he had hooked up a few more times with them until he had gotten bored and moved on to the next. Before he found out who you were, he had been planning on doing the same, and now the fact he couldn't was driving him crazy. He thought about you every minute of the day, every minute of the night, and- unfortunately- whenever his hand was wrapped around his dick. And, after his interaction with you in the hallway, he knew that he needed a good fuck from at least a half-blood, if not a pure-blood.
Yes, that was all it was, his body was desperate for sex and as you were the last person he fucked, his thoughts simply went to you first. That was all it was.
Definitely.
***
Potions lesson on Monday rolled around quicker than you would have liked, but it wasn't all bad, as Slughorn was a nice enough professor. You sequestered yourself next to your best friend, ready to begin the lesson. He had promised you all your first practical lesson today, and you were excited to use a cauldron again after so long.
The only real downside of the class was that Theo was in it, and he seemed even angrier (if that was possible) than he was last week. His eyes were pinned on to you like you had murdered his family. You shrugged it off, setting up the work station while Elena went to fetch the various ingredients that you required.
Meanwhile, Theo sat across the class from you, feeling incredibly frustrated. Saturday night, he had tried to fuck another girl, but he couldn't get himself hard until he imagined that she was you. And, even then, he couldn't finish. His imagination couldn't go as far as making her feel and act like you, after all. Now, all he knew, was that you were his enemy, and his remedy. And you had the audacity to act so calm and unbothered all the fucking time.
"Your obsession isn't healthy," Mattheo spoke from next to him, dumping the potion ingredients on the table.
"It's not an obsession."
"What is it, then?" his friend scoffed, "Love?"
Theo furrowed his eyebrows.
"Yeah, that's what I thought."
Mattheo watched as Theo rose to his feet and began haphazardly chopping ingredients, the tiny knife taking the brunt of his anger.
"If it's affecting you so bad, just fuck her again."
"She's mudblood."
"It's not like you're impregnating her," Mattheo reasoned.
Theo sighed deeply, "It's not that simple. I've had it trained into me since birth that we don't associate with mudbloods."
"Well," Mattheo shifted on his feet, "Parents aren't always right."
"Since when did you sympathise with them?"
"I don't- I just," Mattheo muttered something inaudible to himself, and then said, "I don't want people to think I'm my father."
Theo said nothing.
"I'm just saying, mate, your mother's dead and your father's in prison for life— who gives a fuck what they think?"
"It's the principle."
"What even is the principle?"
"What would Draco think? Lorenzo? All of our friends?"
"Draco's not the man he was before the war," Mattheo said quietly. He knew better than anyone, being Draco's cousin, he had grown up with him due to his parents' absence. "I'm just saying. Maybe we should leave some beliefs in the past."
"You've gotten soft," Theo grumbled, "Just last week you were shitting on me for fucking her."
Mattheo shrugged, "Force of habit, I guess. I've just been doing a lot of thinking lately."
"That's rare."
"Shut up."
***
Truth was, despite all of Theo's dick behaviour and discrimination of your kind, you still found yourself waking up in a sweat thinking about his hands roaming your body. That goddamned Slytherin was the bane of your existence and the reason for your catharsis. He had diseased you, plagued you. He was a parasite that you couldn't get rid of, that was eating away at your sanity. What happened to your self respect? To your pride? You got fucked into heaven, that's what. And now your sexual urges were spreading like fire all throughout your bloodstream.
Wanking didn't feel the same anymore— your fingers didn't hold the electricity and passion that Theo's did. You craved him like a drug: and that's exactly what he was. He was something you shouldn't do, something that was bad for your health, but something that could have you seeing stars. Why did he have to be a blood supremacist?
But would it feel this intense if he wasn't? Maybe you two being forbidden, being star-crossed, was the reason that it made you feel so alive. You loved the fact he stared at you, even if it was with fury so powerful it made his whole body shake. It made you feel as if you had gotten to him the way he had gotten to you.
Just one taste of heaven had left you wanting to experience it a thousand times over.
"Get your shit together, Y/N," you cursed to yourself, forcing yourself out of bed.
"What was that?" one of your dorm mates asked.
"Nothing," you replied, "Just going crazy."
"Aren't we all?" she agreed.
***
"Party in the Slytherin dungeons tonight," Pansy stated to you one hellish week later.
You blinked at her, "And I'm invited?"
The girl nodded, evidently feeling awkward, "A lot of us are trying to- uh- make amends with mud- muggle-borns."
You raised an eyebrow at her near slip-up.
"Look- I'm- I'm sorry for how I treated you in the past," she said, actually appearing genuine, "It wasn't right."
"Um, thank you," you replied hesitantly.
"I know I don't speak for all the Slytherins, but a lot of us have done some thinking over the Summer," she continued, "We've lived in an echo chamber for too long."
That you agreed with.
"And, honestly, I think you're really cool- and I hope we can be friends."
You were taken aback by her words, never imagining that a pure-blood like Pansy Parkinson would be saying such words to you. But, maybe, forgiving her wouldn't be such a bad thing. "I... forgive you, I think," you said slowly, "I hope we can be friends too."
She gave you a small but warm smile, "Thank you. Will I see you there?"
You nodded cautiously, "Yeah, I think so."
"Great, uh, come say hi when you get there."
And with that, she disappeared, leaving you in a state of shock and confusion.
***
"Why are there so many mudbloods here?" Lorenzo asked irritatedly, sitting down on the sofa next to his friend group.
"Be civil, Enzo," Pansy gently scolded, "They're witches and wizards just like us."
"But they're not, though. Right, Matt?"
Mattheo shrugged slightly, "I'm with Pansy on this one, I think."
"See, Enzo? Even the Dark Lord's son agrees with me."
Mattheo grimaced at being reminded of who his father was.
"What about you, Theo?" Lorenzo asked.
But Theo wasn't listening, too busy glaring at you with his jaw clenched as you entered the common room, dressed up in an annoyingly similar way that you were back at the Summer party. Lorenzo followed his gaze, but he already knew where it would be leading to.
"Theo is not the person to ask," Blaise chuckled, appearing out of nowhere and sitting next to Theo, "I reckon he's about two interactions with L/N away from saying 'fuck it' and accepting his fate."
"What fate?" Theo snapped.
"The fate of falling in love with a muggle-born," Pansy said with a giggle.
"I'm not falling for her."
"Yeah, you just think and talk about her all the time," Draco, who had been quiet the whole time, spoke.
"Do you not have a problem with it?" Lorenzo asked Draco.
The blond boy shrugged, "I have a lot of regrets regarding muggle-borns. I don't want anymore."
Lorenzo groaned.
"Times are changing, Enzo," Pansy said gently, "I think you should change with them."
The man scowled and stormed off.
Meanwhile, you had finally spotted Pansy across the room, surrounded by the Slytherin boys— including Theo. You took a deep breath, deciding for the sake of a potential friendship you would have to bear it and fulfil her request of saying hi. You arrived at their group moments after you had seen Berkshire leave angrily.
"Uh, hi," you said to Pansy.
"Hi," her face lit up, "Have you got a drink? I'll get you one."
"Oh, thank you."
"It's no worries— make yourself comfortable," she then turned to the boys, "Play nice."
Mattheo raised his hands in mock surrender, but all Theo did was keep his eyes glued on to you.
Zabini shifted along the sofa, gesturing for you to sit in between him and Theo, which you cautiously accepted. The second you felt the warmth of Theo's thigh brush against yours, sparks jolted through your body, and you nearly jumped. You could have sworn you heard his breath hitch, too. This was the first time in two weeks that he wasn't looking at you, instead his eyes were trained ahead like he was retaining every ounce of self control within him.
"The sexual tension is suffocating," Mattheo remarked, standing up to go after Pansy.
His statement seemed to fuel the flame that you had desperately been trying to keep dim inside of you, and suddenly staying sat next to Theo seemed like an entirely impossible task. You were not nearly drunk enough for this. Thankfully, Pansy returned quickly with Mattheo lingering behind her, and she handed you a glass.
"Firewhiskey and coke," she said simply.
"Thanks," you accepted the glass, and downed the entire thing, "I'll get another one."
You left them all, hearing Pansy scold Theo for scaring you off, but you could still feel his eyes burning holes into your back. Just a couple more drinks and then you would join the dance floor, you decided.
And there you soon were, grinding up against a Hufflepuff boy with liquid courage flooding through your veins. You had just about managed to push Theodore Nott to the back of your mind, but you knew that it was only a temporary fix. This Hufflepuff boy was attractive, but he didn't set you alight.
"Someone's jealous," Blaise chuckled, watching as Theo glared daggers at the boy you were dancing with. Ever since you had joined the dance floor, he had been necking back drinks like his soul depended on it, and it just might. With every gulp, he was feeling more reckless and dangerous. "Accept it, mate, you're in deep."
Theo let out a sound that bordered on a growl.
"The only thing stopping you is yourself."
And as Blaise's words sank in, and the Hufflepuff boy appeared to be going in to kiss you, something snapped within Theo. In a flash, he was on his feet and taking large purposeful strides in your direction. Then, the Hufflepuff boy was torn from your side and being punched directly on the nose with such a force he toppled over. He didn't even get a chance to fight back as Theo continued to hit him, merciless in his moves.
You stood in shock watching the scene unfold before you. After what felt like forever, Mattheo and Lorenzo showed up, pulling Theo off the poor boy who had done nothing wrong.
"What the fuck was that for?" the boy yelled, blood pouring down his face.
Theo said nothing, glaring at him as he finally stopped fighting his friends' grip.
"You need to calm down, mate," Mattheo said sternly, digging his fingers into his friend's bicep.
"Theo." You said, unaware what your intentions were when the name slipped out of your mouth. Regardless, his eyes snapped to yours, appearing to soften slightly as he observed your fearful stance.
What was stopping him, really? Did the purity of his bloodline really matter to him that much?
"I think you two need to talk," Mattheo said firmly, "And I think one of you in particular- not naming any names- needs to get over his own bullshit excuses and give into what he wants."
Theo's bloodied hand wrapped around your wrist, tugging you in the direction of the Slytherin dormitories. You didn't fight him, strangely feeling your fear slip away despite what you had just witnessed Theo be capable of. When you were stood in his empty dormitory, face to face, you knew that you would have to be the first to say something.
"You were jealous," you said it as delicately as you could.
He said nothing, not even looking at you. This made you angry— enraged, even.
"Fucking look at me, Theo!" you screamed, "You haven't had any difficulty with it all week— staring at me like I'm the shit on your fucking shoe!"
His eyes locked on to yours.
"If you regret fucking me, just say it!"
"I don't regret it," he said, his volume low but tone dangerous, "Everything I've been raised to believe wants me to regret it but I can't."
You stood, stunned at his confession.
"I need you like I need water, you're an itch I can't scratch," he was stepping closer to you, making you step back, "You make me feel fucking ecstasy and misery all at once."
Your back hit the wall, and he grabbed your wrist again, bringing it to press against his crotch.
"Do you feel what you do to me?" he said darkly, "I've never been so hard in my life."
You gulped, "I'm not just gonna be another of your bitches, Theo, so forget it." Even though you wanted it so bad, and you were dripping from your core.
"That's the thing, L/N," he chuckled sinisterly, "I don't think I could ever get enough. I don't think anyone else will be able to satiate me ever again."
You jaw dropped.
"I think..." he continued, "...that you're a drug I got addicted to after only one hit."
You closed your mouth, looking up at him expectantly.
"And I don't think I ever want to be sober from you."
"But, I'm a muggle-born-"
He cut you off by slamming his lips on to yours with such furious passion your mind became hazy as you eagerly returned the kiss, lifting up your arms to wrap them around your neck. For a moment, he pulled away, just to whisper, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I don't think I care. I think I just want you in every humanly possible way."
"Then have me," you murmured.
It became a blur as his lips crashed on to yours yet again, and he picked you up by your thighs with his blood stained hands, leaving imprints on your bare skin through your fishnets. He moved you over to his bed, kissing down your neck while he blindly reached for the hem of your top. He wasted no time in pulling it off, along with your bra, so he could continue kissing down your body.
You relished the sensation— savouring it— feeling like you were the only girl in the world. Theo was treating you with such roughness and yet such care, like he had tunnel vision for you and only you.
He pulled off his shirt, before moving down to pull down your skirt, fishnets, and panties all at once. You watched breathlessly as he dived into your leaking pussy and ate you out like a man starved. He groaned, murmuring, "I've missed this taste so fucking much," before continuing his ministrations, eliciting the filthiest moans from you that had ever been produced. This felt even better than the last time.
"You are my goddess," he licked up your pussy, "And my devil."
He began sucking on your clit, and your body felt as if it was lifting from the bed as your orgasm hit you like a shockwave, coursing through your body and sending you to places you had only brushed against before.
"Fuck, Theo," you moaned, "Please fuck me."
The man didn't need telling twice, unbuckling his belt and kicking off his trousers. He didn't waste any time going to his bedside table to grab a condom out of the drawer, tearing it open and pulling it on in record speed. You would have helped him, but your orgasm had you borderline paralysed.
And, then, he was lining up in front of you— for the first time in his life, all he wanted was to fuck missionary. He wanted to see your face (and your nipple piercings that had him drooling) and he wanted to see your expressions as you came undone below him. To him, this was the most intimate that you could get in sex, and he only wanted that with you.
He groaned louder than he had ever groaned when he let himself push inside you, knowing that no other pussy would ever feel as magical as yours. Knowing that he should never have even considered depriving himself of this for some stupid blood purity reasons.
"Fuck, baby, you feel fucking amazing," he breathed out. You reached your arms up, gesturing for him to come down closer to you.
Theo obeyed, kissing you as he began thrusting, while his bloodied hands explored every inch of you, leaving a trail as they went.
"I'd rub your clit, but I don't want to get blood there," he said through heavy pants. You couldn't help but let out a small giggle, moving your own hand down to aid yourself along.
Your moans increased tenfold, as did his pace, and it wasn't long before he was biting down on to your neck in order to contain the groans that were fighting their way out of him. Who would have thought that such plain love making could make him feel so on top of the world?
"Theo- I'm gonna come," you choked out, and the way his teeth sank deeper told you that he was going to as well. As you both reached heaven in unity, he gave up suppressing his moans, and gave you the most melodious earful that you had ever heard as his movements became sloppy and tingles spread through your veins.
Eventually, he collapsed on top of you, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, stroking his hair gently as you lay in a post-sex haze.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled, making your brain short circuit.
"You what?"
"I'm sorry for being a pretentious asshole."
A smile creeped on to your face, "So, is this just a sex thing, or...?"
"Fuck no," he snapped, "I need you all the time. You're mine."
"So, it's a girlfriend boyfriend thing?"
He froze, but then relaxed, and said into your neck, "Yeah, I guess it is."
"You guess?"
He sighed, "Well, you've ruined me for anyone else."
————————————————
masterlist
written;��07/04/2024 —> 08/04/2024 published; 10/04/2024 edited; —/—/——
1K notes ¡ View notes
ak319 ¡ 4 months ago
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Dark Arthur Morgan x sis reader
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(WARNINGS?MDNI: Abuse, misogyny , possessiveness, restrictions// i don't condone such behaviour irl!.) +Arthur is in his 20's here
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"And what about this question, ma'am?" you asked, leaning over Mrs. Anne, your teacher. She ran a small homeschool for girls and Montessori for kids with some of the little kids being your friends' siblings. It was such a cozy, safe environment for studying. Classes started in the afternoon, around 4:30 p.m., and went on until the evening, usually wrapping up by 7 or 8.
You lived in Strawberry with your dad, Lyle, and your older brother, Arthur Morgan. Your dad had changed a lot after your mother's death, becoming an alcoholic and often disappearing for days. Arthur, on the other hand--he was your shield, making you feel both protected and suffocated at the same time. Since your father was usually too lost in his own world or away from home, he didn’t bother you much, only occasionally checking in as if to remind you he was still your father. Meh.
But Arthur--he took his role far too seriously. In fact, he thought he should take on both his and your father’s duties. That’s why you had to ask--or rather, beg--him to let you attend Mrs. Anne's classes when you first heard about them from Isla, your friend who had shown you the poster.
Strawberry wasn’t that big of a town, and after verifying everything about Mrs. Anne, Arthur finally agreed--thankfully. But only on the condition that he would pick you up and drop you off himself. He used to be caring, but not like this. Your mother’s death had changed the two men in the house in completely opposite ways. One stopped caring altogether, while the other became overbearing. And you were just trying to survive, making the best of it.
The urge to run away with your friends felt all too real sometimes. But then you’d think what would Arthur might do if he ever found you? That’s where all your plans would fall apart. You had also learned, through Arthur, that neither he nor your father were earning their money honestly. He tried to keep it from you at first, but eventually told you when you were old enough. You had your suspicions anyway--his words were just confirmation.
Today was like any other day. Arthur had dropped you off outside Mrs. Anne's house as usual. But by 7:30, the weather took a sudden turn--it started raining heavily out of nowhere. It had been a bit windy earlier, but there was no sign of rain. Yet here it was, pouring down. Time passed, and it was now 8:10 p.m., but your idiot of a brother still hadn't shown up to pick you up. You were feeling awkward staying at your teacher's home, despite Mrs. Anne and her husband being the sweetest people. You’d already had two cups of hot chocolate with your friend, Isla, and didn’t want to impose any further.
"(Y/N), he might not come with this heavy rain. We could walk to your house together--it’s not that far," Isla suggested, whispering. It was just the two of us left, as most of the girls had gone home earlier. You both had work to finish, but even if you’d finished sooner, you couldn’t leave without Arthur. Going home without him wasn’t the first option.
"But what if he comes here after we leave?"
Isla groaned. "Mrs. Anne will tell him that we headed to your place. Look at me--my house is even further than yours, what the hell would I do-- oh my God! I can just stay at yours tonight! I already told my mother that if it rains, I might stay over at yours. Let’s just go!."
She had a point. Maybe Arthur was out doing--well, you didn’t even want to think about it. After taking leave from Mrs. Anne, the two of you dashed to your house with the umbrellas she had given you.
Once you reached the small, humble abode, you both headed to your room with the food you had prepared earlier, settling in to chat and relax while enjoying the soothing sound of the rain.
"Where are your dad and brother?" Isla asked.
You shrugged. "I mean--Dad being absent is normal, but Arthur is usually home by now. I’m kind of worried."
"Seriously, (Y/N)? I’d be happy to have the house to myself for a change. Not to mention, some space. He’s--kind of scary, isn’t he?"
"Scary? Well, yeah, sometimes. But trust me, he’s nice and caring. More than Dad could ever be. It does get a bit too much at times, though."
"Mhm. And it’s kind of messed up, isn’t it? The work they do. Both of them." Isla was the only friend you’d confided in about your family, and that was only because she had once seen Arthur with Dutch, a shady con man who often visited Strawberry or rather his boss. You hated Dutch despite never meeting him. He's the reason your brother is now on the same path as your dad.
"What can I do about it? I’ve tried talking to him, but he always shuts me out--" Your eyes caught a glimpse of a paper sticking out of the side pocket of your bag. "Wait, what’s that?"
You pulled out the paper, and both you and Isla began reading it. It was some kind of confession addressed to Mavis, another girl in your class. You couldn’t figure out who wrote it or why it was in your bag. The writer had only signed with an initial: A.
"Oh! Wait, wait, wait! It must be Amell. I saw him whispering to a kid outside from the window. He must be the one who gave this to him to put in Mavis’s bag."
"Amell who? And how did this end up in my bag?" you asked, confusion evident on your face as you looked back at the note.
Isla leaned back against the headboard, stretching her limbs with a relaxed sigh. "Amell is Mrs. Anne’s son. I’ve seen him talking to Mavis before. You and Mavis were sitting together today, and you both have the same colored bags. The kid must’ve gotten confused."
“Is the kid we’re talking about, Anders? He’s so dumb,” you said, shaking your head with a soft chuckle. “Anyway, don’t let me forget to hand this to Mavis tomorrow.”
Suddenly, the door to your room burst open, and Arthur stormed in.
Your eyebrows furrowed at his sudden intrusion. "Um... hi?" you said, your tone a mix of surprise and uncertainty.
Isla straightened up, her eyes quickly avoiding Arthur’s gaze, as she gave a hesitant but polite greeting as well.
"How did you get home?" Arthur's voice was cold, cutting through the room.
"Isla and I came together. Where were you, though?" you asked, trying to keep your tone casual despite the tension.
Arthur’s gaze shifted to Isla. "Isla, the rain has stopped. You should go home. Your family must be waiting."
Isla looked at you, confusion clear on her face. "She’s staying becau-"
"Not today," Arthur interrupted firmly.
"Why not? Are you going to tell me where you were?" you shot back, frustration creeping into your voice.
"Y/N, I--I’ll see you tomorrow."
You let Isla leave, your irritation with Arthur growing. You wanted to talk openly without making Isla uncomfortable in the middle of the family drama. As you moved to escort her to the front door, Arthur abruptly blocked your path. "Stay here," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument.
You sighed and sank back onto the bed, shoving the letter--which was still in your hand--back into your bag. Arthur stormed back in and slammed the door a bit too hard.
"What’s gotten into you?" you asked, trying to keep your voice calm despite the frustration bubbling up inside.
Arthur’s eyes were cold, his jaw set. "What did I tell you about coming home alone?" His irritation was palpable, fixated on the condition he had imposed.
"Well, what was I supposed to do, stay there? It’s 9 p.m.! Where were you?" Your words seemed to only fuel his anger, rather than penetrate his stubbornness.
Arthur’s gaze hardened. "I’ve noticed your tone changing recently, ever since you started going there. What exactly are they teaching you at that place, huh?"
"Basic knowledge. Like not overstaying your welcome at someone’s house when you can walk home," you retorted, trying to keep your tone steady despite your rising frustration.
Arthur’s eyes narrowed further as he took a few steps closer. "Is that so?" His voice was low, dangerously calm. "Well, our dear father got arrested, so I was at the sheriff's. And as for ‘basic knowledge,’" he said, grabbing your bag and dumping its contents onto the floor.
"HEY! My books!!" you exclaimed, a mix of shock and anger in your voice.
"Mhm, what might this be?" Arthur’s attention was fixed on the letter he had seen earlier. He picked it up and read it, his expression darkening as his suspicions were confirmed. "A confession, hmm? An A? This is what you two were gigglin' about earlier?" he murmured, crumpling the letter in his fist, his gaze still locked on it. You gritted your teeth, trying to keep your composure.
"A for… Amell, her son, right?" Arthur’s tone was icy, his eyes boring into you as he processed the revelation.
"What even--- That wasn’t for me! It was for Mavis! Have you forgotten to read?!" you protested, trying to defend yourself. He scoffed at your reply, eyes twinkling with amusement. "So Mavis is your codename?"
"Are you serious?"
Arthur’s eyes narrowed dangerously. "Did he drop you both home, or just you alone? Huh?" His fists clenched tightly, and you could see the anger boiling beneath his calm exterior. Arthur's boots struck the floor with a deliberate, menacing rhythm.
"What are you on about, Arthur? You know that’s not true! A kid put it in my bag. Look, it’s not mine. You can ask Isla."
Arthur’s gaze hardened even further. "Why should I ask her? Hm? She’s your partner in crime, isn’t she? And it’s not like you’re going to see her again."
"W-what? What does that mean?!" you stammered, panic rising in your voice. But nothing could have prepared you for the next moment. Your hands were now on his as he gripped your jaw, your body instinctively going stiff, the fear evident in your eyes. This was the first time he had raised his hands to you in such a threatening manner.
"Yes, no more Isla and no more of that whorehouse you go to. You’ve studied enough. I’ve been too lenient with you." A pained whimper escaped your lips as his gloved fingers dug into your jaw.
"N-no-don’t do that! Why are you not believing me, Arthur?!" you pleaded, your voice breaking. He shoved you by your jaw, sending you crashing to the floor. Your head narrowly missed hitting the bed’s edge.
"If you utter one more word or try to set a foot outside until I say so, especially to that school of yours, I WILL BREAK YOUR FUCKING LEGS!"
His heavy breathing was the only sound you could hear as you stared at the floor, your vision blurred by tears and chest tight with fear and anxiety. He can easily break you in two if he wants to right now, even Isla's gone. "I am here, working these jobs to keep a roof over your head while that fool has clearly given up, and you’re here, frolicking with your lovers! Learning to write fucking love letters." He stood over you, his anger uncontrollable, and grabbed you by your hair, forcing you to lift your head slightly.
"You’ve enjoyed yourself enough. Now stay at the fucking house and make it a home, like Mother did, like you are supposed to do. And I’m dead serious when I say you don’t want me seeing you going near that house or interacting with those little friends of yours, got it? Because I have eyes and ears everywhere." His words were a chilling threat, leaving you too stunned to fully grasp their meaning.
"DO YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND?!" he demanded, his voice thunderous. He yanked your hair with a brutal force, his actions cold and devoid of the care he once showed you. This was the same brother who used to be so kind, now revealing his true, harsh colors over a simple misunderstanding.
"K-kay," you managed to choke out, nodding with tears streaming down your face. He released you with a rough shove.
"Get up and heat the food. I’m going to freshen up." And just like that, he left, leaving you alone in the oppressive silence. Your books lay scattered around you, their presence a painful reminder of a future now out of reach, as you were left enveloped in a cloud of despair.
Part II
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satocidal ¡ 1 year ago
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𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭Destination(!): Middle of Nowhere — Toji Fushiguro
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Synopsis: A long drive—a little crush and a hot dilf, not much can wrong- only that you were drunk and he was no less of a bastard.
— Word count: 2.2k
— A/n: Nobody come at me ok? This was meant to be full smut and just a drabble but here I am 💀 and this is like a piece I’m writing after a decent while so stfu ok- as is Toji ain’t my boo
— Warnings: smut!! MDNI!! Toji x Fem! Reader (reader is at least 19); age gap (reader is the age of Megumi and they’re not in college <3); stupidly fucked sense of alcohol consumption and hangover (for the sake of plot); degradation; spanking; idk basic nonsense- exhibitionism; usage of word "daddy" (twice)
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“That’s what you fuckin’ like huh?” A sharp slap landed on your ass, whimpers barely contained as you sobbed as his fast-set pace—“Gettin’ fucked at the side of the highway?”
Days spent saving the money so carefully, so long—it had to be a night well spent.
“Gumi’!” You sounded out again, the skirt rested so low on your waist—the top barely holding up too, you grinned as your friend made his way to your car, disgruntled a face.
“Why the long face lover boy?”
Not a word, motioning just his head for you to focus on the body in the periphery—it was similar to your Friend, well, at least by the face of it and some mannerisms.
Megumi’s father after all, was the book definition of what a dilf is—you couldn’t help but giggle at the way the older man flicked off his son—usual banter, you presumed.
“What happened now?”
“I was running late, so I made eggs—he wanted to eat some cereals or whatever,” you chuckled at the annoyance his tone held still—“and he couldn’t have made it himself?”
A deadpan that Megumi passed you, “is it not obvious the only thing he can make is women pregnant left and right.”
Another gaze, yours flickered to his father- shyly looking away immediately when your eyes seemed to catch—he was, in most senses, scary.
But hot—because how else would you explain the sudden flutter of the nerves as your eyes caught sight of Him, pants resting low on his hips—no shirt, fuck was he hot.
Another laugh, unassuming as your car revved away.
-
The concert was fun, mostly.
Besides the time that you lost sight of Megumi, besides the creeps that you caught along the way, besides getting your drink almost spiked- yeah.
What wasn’t fun, it was simply realising that you did not in fact have a ride to go back anymore. But as it was, absent father or not, he made for a decent chauffeur- because there at 11:30 at night he stood with his car.
“How the fuck do you lose your car keys?” His voice was rushed, Megumi’s—staring daggers at you, you simply chose to giggle, too drunk to register anything properly.
“I lost you at the concert- I think losing is a simple concept,”
A scoff- Megumi could not deal with this anymore.
“Remember when we lost our virginity-? That motel was so shady, and the bitch you were with-” words punctuated with hiccups and giggles, Megumi groaned, ears burning when his dad replied with “Hah?” To your words, apparently having heard everything.
A hand shoved to cover your mouth, Megumi grimaced-“don’t mind her, she’s drunk, I need you to take her home- ours,”
A short silence followed the info, “take her? Where will you be?”
Megumi paused, “I’ll stay off at a friend’s t’night—need you to take her back,”
A scoff—Toji’s, “can’t the brat stay with you too? M’busy,”
“He wants to get railed,” you hollered from behind—warning yourself a gruff smile from Toji, not that you’d care at the moment- “off y’er rockets, both of you,” a mumble Toji passed, then a scoff.
“Alright,” he finally muttered, not without making Megumi beg thrice, compensating the night drive by leaving the apartment alone to his father for three days further, “stay with her while I back the car- don’t lemme catch ya fuckin’ some whore when I get back either,”
“Don’t ya worry Mr. Fushiguro—ain’t gonna let him get STD so fast,”
Another short chuckle, hm, the ride could after all be fun.
-
“Thanks dad,” Megumi muttered another his breath- fastening your seatbelt, not daring to meet his dad’s eye, all too aware of the smirk on his face.
“The chick’s hot,”
“That’s why I’m leaving with her and not- oh,” Megumi paused mid-statement realising it was you his father was referring to, not the girl he was leaving with, he bit his lip hard.
“Don’t try your shit with her, don’t mess with her,”
A smirk, “how would you know,” Toji shrugged, “I could fuck her roadside and you wouldn’t know,”
A lick of his lips, “which is why I’m asking you to simply not do it,”
Flick of his head, “I’ll do what I want,”
Megumi watched as his father’s gaze lingered upon your form, it was simply too easy- especially the way Toji’s eyes held a hungry look.
And just like that, you—half passed out, beside Toji swerved away, Megumi would’ve perhaps minded a little more, had the girl beside him not been actively trying to kiss his face off- not that he minded.
Ps. One thing about Toji, he did do what he wanted after all.
-
The ride back home was smoother, partially because you were almost passed out, and there was no traffic to hinder your way either—and yet, hours it took the both of you to reach.
After all, there were stops made continuously, here and there- “ya hungry?” You muttered suddenly, 15 minutes into the ride, the silence all so overbearing—a mindless “huh?” Toji passed, a mere snicker you offered “hungry? I am,”
Toji stared blankly at the road—he wasn’t sure, a small smirk made its over still, “you don’t typically talk so much,” and true he was of course—but that was mostly because Toji always shivered your timbers, which rarely mattered when you were as drunk as you were.
“I’m typically never this hungry either,” a gruff scoff he passed, “Gumi’ didn’t feed ya or what?”
A silence you let pass over the two of you- he sighed taking the worse of the cases, “whatever I’ve got me some cash, sure, whatcha’ wanna eat?”
“Whatever pops up on the road first,”
A smirk, Toji looked over the convenience store that seemed to be approaching—“I like decisive girls like you,”
A giggle you passed, so drunk, “wanna know a decision I’ve made?”
A cocked brow met your gaze as Toji pulled the car over the side of the road—“you’re one man I wanna fuck,”
A cough and a widened set of eyes fretted Toji before the smirk could even wipe you across the floor, a short silence met you- sober you would’ve already climbed over the lay on the road ready to be run over, the sheer embarrassment.
A small chuckle the older man offered, “y’er not so bold usually eh?”
“You’re scary,” your voice came out as half a whine,
“eh? And I’m not scary right now?”
A giggle again—“you’re much more fuckable right now, especially with how you were in the morning- been on my mind since,”
Oh?
Oh.
The vision of himself in just a vest and grey sweat-pants, understandable, he shrugged—“gotta be honest doll, you look way more slutty than I did,”
An amused smile he held as you giggled again—“yeaaaah?” Your words dragged, “S’pretty skirt ain’t it? Gumi’ thought it was too short,” a small pout that you held with end of the statement.
A snort Toji passed—“Gumi? An idiot, a doll like you deserved to flaunt that ass in as short of a skirt you like, don’t ya?”
Your head bobbed in compliance, slowing only when his hand came to rest way too high on the plush of your thighs—it felt hot.
Hot in the way it seemed to creep up your skirt, hot in the way the hem of your skirt tickled you—hot in the way his gaze held yours, hot in the way Toji knew exactly what he was doing.
A lick of your lips, a lean in from him, a lean in yours—“you were hungry, yea?”
And just like that, Toji did exactly as he pleased.
-
Toji stared, jaw stacked as his eyes remained stuck on your form, bent over—legs spread, all just to tease him while you pretended to be confused about flavour sandwiched you wanted to grab.
A hum entered his ears, you bent over further—your panties, the fishnets all on display —“I don’t like the mayo they used in this,” a whine as you wiggled your ass, his eye twitched.
A step forward, he stood directly behind you, crotch pressed to your ass, a hand on your back which kept you in position—“and I don’t like the way you’re acting,”
The store was empty, you smirked—grinding back into him, “you seemed to like how I was back in—”
-slap!
A sharp inhale, yours, a sting that you could feel building up on your ass—“hey! What are you-”
-another harsh slap fell on the same spot, the fat of your ass squeezed suddenly, “what do you think y’er doing?” Almost a growl—the store was empty, he was using it to his advantage.
A smile rested on your lips—“trying to decide on what I wanted to eat but…” despite the dull warmth you’d just felt you grind into him yet again—your intentions were clear, all too drunk to even care about being humped in the middle of a convenience store—as you seemed to be at the moment.
Toji realised all of this— in the sound of your gasp as he pulled at your hair roughly, back arching as he brought you close enough to his mouth as he leaned down himself—you could feel his hardening dick pushing against your ass—“but what?”
A smile, almost innocent that you flashed, “I don’t think I’m hungry anymore…” a bite of your lip—then another hitch as you felt him spank you yet again, all too done with you.
The heat radiated through your body, “you think it’s funny huh? Grinding’ into me like a whore?”
A moan escaped you, his fingers roughly pushing at your clothed pussy, skirt hiked up- your face heated up at thought of someone walking in—fingers feeling around your wetness as it spread, “wearing such a fuckin’ short skirt—I can practically see your slutty pussy when you bend,” another sharp slap, you whined at the absence of his fingers from your cunt.
“Ofc Gumi’ let ya go—such a whore, poor boy had to take care of you huh? But that’s ok—daddy’s better than him at dealing with bratty ones like you,”
Shameless, in the way you moaned—not caring about the store manager who was probably watching through the store camera—you smirked.
“Yeah?” You grinned up at him, “what’ll you do hm? What does “daddy” do?”
A hard stare he passed, suddenly pulling away from you entirely, let alone for the hand that grasped your hair, “think I prefer you better when you’re quiet and crushin’ on me,”
A mischievous smile that you held—“you should gag me then,” he couldn’t help but roll his eyes, and smile at your words—you were adorable, he wouldn’t deny that—he pulled you away from the shop slowly, back to the car, not without winking at the guy working at the store—all too aware of the breathy moans he’d let out stroking himself, watching the two of you too.
As for gagging you, Toji would.
-
Fifteen minutes the both of you rode in silence—sheer fear that his words had held, “not a peep,” he’d whispered as he closed the door for you, a hard glare followed as the engine was turned on.
Fifteen minutes gone by, you were wet—turned on simply by the silly ministrations in the store, your cunt was practically begging to be touched.
But ah—for someone too afraid to even breath loudly at the moment, to touch yourself seemed off the plate, but the thought may enticing nonetheless.
“Feelin’ horny?” His voice rasped—and oh boy, you were—“same,” a short smirk has evident in his voice, “no touching or sounds till you’re at home though,”
And quite Instantly and regrettably, “Please…” you whispered, hand reaching over to stroke his thigh once —just as quick the car was pulled aside, Toji’s face remained blank.
“Get out,” he murmured, breaking the moment of silence—his gaze was hard, “huh?” Was all you could manage, “ya heard me doll, out. Out and your hands on the hood,”
And as if on a spell, there you were- bent over, it was chilly, pleasantly so—waiting all so impatiently, squirming, he sat in his seat, light shining all upon you- his star of the night.
Slow, taking forever it seemed, that he stood up- walked off, you dared not to move, staring in the little awkward position that he held you in, as he stretched in his leisure.
He didn't seem to come close, not once- or at all, not a single word —“Mr. Fushiguro…please?”
A smirk- fast spread to a grin- “shy again? We gettin’ sobered up? Not so quick doll,” and yet, with all his teasing words, not a single step taken to help- you squirmed, ass sticking out, it was tempting but Toji was a man of will power.
“Please,” you muttered meaninglessly- and the moment continued for a decent two minutes- nothing made sense, you knew he was merely teasing- but oh how the riddle onto whatever that would make him crack was unrelenting.
And perhaps, when he couldn’t take it further, “what’s my name?”
A hesitant, “Mr. Fushiguro,” you dropped off yours lips- he smirked, a step closer- your panties, soiled already we’re almost dripping now and you were sure no piece of groundbreaking porn would ever get you this worked up again- “No. What is my name?”
And as if a light bulb got switched on- “Toji,” you whispered- he was finally close enough though, close enough with his hands on your tits, roughly squeezing and slapping them, “what was that?”
You purred softly, the way his hands pushed your spine, arching your back further- fingers brushing against your hip, “Toji,” his name rolled off your tongue again, louder- he snickered.
“That’s the name you’ll be screaming alright? Why will you scream it doll?”
And yet again, all logic flew off you as you felt his hard-on press onto your ass, “because I’m a slut who deserves to be fucked shamelessly on a highway,”
A final cackle that Toji held- a slap to your face, soft- “such a good fuckin’ whore.”
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All of this work is original and entirely my own—please refrain from copying or reposting.
Likes and Reblogs highly appreciated!
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osihbj ¡ 2 months ago
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Bizarre Love
(Packie McReary x Niko Bellic)
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TW: Drug addiction, sexual content, alcohol, death mentioned, spoilers to GTA IV. Angst to Smut
Autor note: The one shot is happening after GTA IV plot, that's my first one shot, so please be understanding :p.
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Liberty City the year 2008, the wedding of Roman Bellic - Niko's cousin, and Mallorie Bardas, but now Mallorie Bellic. Everything promised to be perfect, Mallorie's beautiful dress as well as Roman who lost a couple of hundred pounds to look good in his graphite suit, and, of course, to make sure a couple of buttons didn't accidentally break. Everyone stood boisterously outside the church, waiting for the bride and groom to emerge from behind the colossal church walls.
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Niko stood talking along with Patrick "Packie" McReary - his almost best friend with whom they were for each other for better and for worse. Slavic could only sit and reminisce about the moments when he saved the Irishman's clumsy ass, because unfortunately Packie himself was unable to remember most of those situations, mainly due to the states he was in while being bounced around by various shenanigans. However, when Niko needed the help of a friend he was always ready to step up, regardless of the situation. Maybe Packie couldn't emotionally express that he cared about the man's welfare, but even so, the actions said a lot.
— I'm happy that Roman finally got it right. He quit that fucking gambling...Damn Packie, he's getting married... — Niko snorted quietly under his breath, only to glance at the Irishman out of the corner of his eye a moment later. He looked as if he was absent-minded.
— Dude, are you alive? — He asked with intrigue in his voice and at one point even decided to poke him gently with his shoulder, and the man finally got down on the ground.
— Fuck, can't you see that I'm thinking? It's been a long time since I took that damn coke, without it I can barely think, so let me enjoy this fucking moment! — Patrick almost, shouted these words reproachfully, of course, people began to look at them, so Niko just rolled his eyes and fell silent, and the lower one returned his thoughts somewhere else. It was the norm for Packie to show up even at such events intoxicated. Bellic is used to it by now, but unfortunately others are not as forgiving as Niko. In the end, Roman and his now-wife left the church full of energy, with happy faces. Mallorie threw a bouquet of flowers into the crowd, which was caught by none other than Katie McReary, the sister of our favorite inebriated Irishman with whom Niko used to hang out from time to time. Everyone started cheering and giggling, of course not taking away the pleasure of directing their eyes at Niko, after all, it was clear that he was the one Kate was going to spend her life with. Just at that moment Patrick decided to return to the world of the living.
— Watch out for my sister, capiche? — He threw an angry look on Niko's direction, but after a moment he put his hand on his shoulder.
— I know you won't hurt her, you're a good guy...Except for the fact that you kill for money, but you know what kind of family I come from...it's on the order of the day. — He added after a while, but at some point a loud bang rang out. Even a gunshot. Everyone turned their eyes in one direction. Kate McReary had been shot.
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It had been five months since the attack on Roman's wedding, after some time it became clear that Niko was to be the one to die at the hands of Pegorino's men, but unfortunately they missed, hitting a blameless woman. Everyone who was close to the McReary family experienced Katie's death as intensely as they did. Niko felt guilty about the woman's death because he was the one who was supposed to die. He couldn't get over it. Packie only deepened his unhealthy love for cocaine. They both tried to support each other in these difficult moments, however, they did not always feel like it. After all, it's not easy to walk out of the house after such a situation and pretend that nothing like this ever happened. This is reality, not a movie.
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Around 9 PM, Niko heard the doorbell ringing. Who had the audacity to disturb his peace of mind at this difficult time? Annoyed, he got up from the bed, casually kicking some tattered clothes and trash under the bed. The whole apartment was as much as begging to have the windows opened, as it smelled musty and acrid with male sweat, but who could blame him? He wasn't expecting visitors. He finally walked with a wasted step to the door and opened it, without looking through the peephole beforehand, which he should have done looking at the fact that a few months back someone wanted to kill him. The brunet looked down as the figure was lower, and it was none other than Patrick.
— What are you doing here at this hour? — He asked, letting him inside. Packie did not look well, his eyes were blacked out and bloodshot, he was pale...and did not look inviting at all
Niko was the same way, dirty, smelly and in just his underwear, he had just welcomed his best friend into the apartment. All in all, he knew Packie would never judge him.
— Niko, I have a fucking problem. — The Irishman began, then sat down on a leather corner, which was also swamped with junk. By the way, Patrick decided to take with him hectoliters of alcohol (read: four bottles of strong scotch). Niko was increasingly curious as to what his dearest friend had in mind, so he sat down next to him and took in his hand one of the bottles previously placed by Packie on the coffee table. He didn't intend to sip the drink with anything, so he opened the glass and began to drink from the thread, waiting for McReary to deign to finish. Patrick's lips parted to let out the following words quietly.
— I got so high...I feel so lonely. — Patrick said and moved dangerously close to Niko, who looked confused.
— So what? — Asked the brunet measuring Packie with his hazel eyes. He didn't understand what the man wanted to convey to him with that.
— I want to fuck you. — He added after a moment, and Niko almost choked on his own saliva. What? He wanted what? Slavic murmured in such a way that he took a few more deep drinks and put the bottles back on the table. He looked at the green-eyed man and sighed deeply.
— Do what you want, I have nothing to lose anyway. — Spouted Niko, and all in all, at the mere thought of intercourse with Packie, he got hot. Had he ever thought about it? Probably yes, but only, When he was really drunk.
If Niko agreed, why should Patrick delay? He had been thinking about it for a long time. He was thinking about it before his friend started dating his sister. With a playful smile, the Irishman moved even closer to the man to place a passionate kiss on his lips. The warmth of his lips made Packie lose his mind more and more. The cocaine was making him as horny as ever, and horny he had always been. (XD) They began to undress each other, so that after a while they both ended up naked. Both of them would never have thought that this could actually happen. It was simply abstract to them, but well...It is said that dreams do come true. At one point Patrick hovered over his delighted lover and looked him straight in the eyes.
— You're begging me with your eyes. — He laughed and Niko merely shook his head, but at one point he lifted his hips involuntarily upward when he felt the man's rough hand running along his appendage. The feeling was...certainly much weirder than when women touched him, but he didn't complain.
— Damn, just do it already, don't tease me.— He howled through his teeth frustrated Niko, only to feel a sharp pain piercing him from the waist down a moment later. Packie, without any warning, simply with one move he...well, what to call it? Did he work it out? After a long session, which lasted really quite a long time namely as long as three and a half hours, they both ended up exhausted in the bed, as they managed to move there in the process.
— Damn, Niko, I didn't knew you liked be dominated. — Patrick snorted with laughter, and Niko muttered something under his breath apparently tired of it all. No wonder, after all, it was the first time someone fucked him, not the other way around. What is the moral of the story? If your sister dies, go fuck your friend, love n peace guyyzzz.
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Thx for reading this.
It was a new, but good experience for me to write in another language than my native.
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rosettastarlight ¡ 2 years ago
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I really like your Stranger Things AU with Vance! I'd like to learn more. Do you have any headcanons on how Vance adjusts to Hawkins and what his relationship would be like with the Party?
First off, I am so sorry taking so long to respond, I’ve had finals and been trying to catch up on missing work before the end of the semester. 
And second, oh, I very much do, but it depends mainly on timeline because like I said Vance moving to Hawkins would be after escaping the Grabber, and while I have thought to myself that the move taking place between 1983 and 1984 would be easiest as the chaos of season 1 might be a little too much for Vance who would just be recovering from his own disappearance and kidnapping (although I also think he’d be part of the reason Jim would start to take the Will Byers case seriously since everyone also probably thought Vance was just skipping school or causing trouble before realizing he’d been gone too long, except no one really cared beyond the first few weeks that Vance was gone because he was a constant trouble-maker), and it might be better to place him in a calmer where the worst has more or less blown over, but the timeline is also pretty important.
I mostly, in my head, place him in Hawkins around season 2 in 1984 both because of the former reason and because I just think it’d be hilarious to see the utter confusion of being dropped smack in the aftermath while knowing nothing of what went on before. Like, Jim trying to explain El away when Vance can see straight through his bs because he knows damn well this strange girl did not pop up out of nowhere, and since when was his dad the type of guy to move to a cabin in the middle of the woods. Where there’s no one or anything in sight for at least a good, long walk. And if he’d adopted El, why are there no records anywhere in the cabin, why does she have the vocabulary and knowledge of a child half her age, since when did he have the time or mindset in between being a recovering alcoholic and a cop who was too busy and gone half the day to pay attention to his only other child? Why can’t she go outside but Vance can as long as he’s back before curfew, why can’t she be seen by anyone to the point that the blinds need to always be closed?
Still, let’s drop him in season 1 for the hell of it, which would mean him moving to Hawkins within 1983 just before the events of Stranger Things, making him kidnapped in 1982. He might have been found maybe a month or two prior at most, spent a while in the hospital (he was down in the basement for months and judging from the conditions we see in the movie, he was probably malnourished, dehydrated, not to mention all the injuries he might have gotten from the beatings and if any of them got infected), and I’ll try my best to organize my thoughts
For context, after Sarah’s death, we know Diane and Jim divorced a year later, after which Hopper moved back to Hawkins, Diane moved with Vance to Denver from New York, and it's known Hopper did not take his family breaking apart well.
Speaking from personal experience, when a parent is grieving the loss of one child, they can be so lost in their own downspiraling mental health, they can start neglecting their remaining one, and losing custody and the now physical distance between them didn't help matters since back then, all they had to communicate long distance was phone and letters.
There was also a bit of guilt there since Hopper had thought himself responsible in a way for Sarah's death and thought he might mess up with Vance too, so he distanced himself emotionally as well.
So for a long while, Jim was kind of an absent father and hasn't seen Vance in person since he was ten. He was starting to come back into his life three years later, around the same time Vance went missing.
That was essentially Jim's wake up call rather than the Byers case, to realize he could have just lost his son, too, not knowing what happened to him until he was found a year later having been kept captive the entire time.
When Hopper found out, he dropped everything to get to the hospital Vance was staying, but Vance himself had pretty complicated feelings, because on one hand, his dad being there as a familiar face in the wake of a very traumatizing event and the unfamiliar people of the hospital where everyone is touching (and he does not want them touching him), poking and prodding him, but on the other, it took him nearly dying for his dad to actually come see him, so....pros and cons.
Hopper and Diane did talk about him wanting to be back in Vance’s life, trying to get sober, and wanting a chance to be there for him, and that maybe getting away from the place of trauma might help Vance out mentally, make him feel more safe to not be reminded of the events everywhere when people were still talking about it and his face is in all the papers, and Hawkins was quiet and isolated where everyone knows everyone and nothing ever happens.
Vance was not happy once he got out the hospital. He did not want to leave Denver, he did not want to leave the familiarity of his home after just coming back, he did not want to leave his friends who were the only ones he felt could understand what he went through since they went through the same thing, he did not want or like anymore abrupt changes in his life.
Part of the only reason he even agreed to move in with his dad was because both his parents insisted on it and he didn’t want to argue with his mom.
The other part was because he started to feel like she just didn’t want him around, much like before he even got kidnapped, especially seeing her with her new family, his stepsister and stepfather, and that he always felt like she didn’t try all that much to find him while he was gone.
That was not exactly the case, Diane was doing the best with what she had, but parents aren’t perfect and as much as they loved each other, their relationship did become strained with him distancing himself from her as he got older and her being busy taking care of a new baby.
Jim had bought Vance a Walkman he'd planned to give him on his 14th birthday (it was supposed to be the first birthday they spent together since the divorce, so it was supposed to make up for all the ones he missed), but instead gave him in the hospital after the police found him. He still remembers how loud music usually calmed Vance as a kid and figured it might help now.
Despite not being all that receptive towards Jim, he takes good care of it and takes it everywhere he could for when he was feeling stressed.
Also, the mental image I have of Vance staring Jim dead in the eye as he puts on his headphones mid-lecture to show just how done he is with their conversations when he doesn't feel like fighting.
Jim genuinely did think that Hawkins would help because it’s a small, sleepy town where nothing ever happens and no one’s going to really know him beyond the chief’s son which is better than being gawked at for escaping a serial child kidnapper everywhere you go, and while that can get boring, maybe after what happened, “boring” might be best since at least in “boring,” it’s safe because nothing ever happens.
Point at the irony and laugh.
I said in my last post of this au that Vance does not like new stuff, and this is no exception, he does not like having to get used to the cabin, the  smells and new textures and having to ask where everything is, he does not like looking outside and just seeing trees upon trees upon trees, needing rides to town, not knowing where to go when he’s in town (just overall having to rely on Jim for everything in an unfamiliar place, he hates it)
Considering the last time he talked to a stranger, he got grabbed, and as much as he’d never admit it to anyone (he doesn’t really have to since Hopper can see it in how Vance asks him to drive him places at first with how Vance wants nothing to do with him if he can help it--so if he’s willing to put up with being in a car with him for some sense of security, that means something), he doesn’t feel safe anymore walking alone where there’s not many people, which does lead to him being more aggressive and off-putting with strangers as a way to feel so.
He was canonical held back, but it was in elementary school, so he'd be in the eighth grade rather than the high school, which actually would give a good opportunity to meet the Party even if he's still a grade above them.
He mostly keeps to himself, and he spends most of his time outside of school (and sometimes skipping class), at the arcade after Jim showed him where it was, for the closest thing he can find to his pinball machine back home.
He’s both not as violent and yet worse at the same time, like he won’t fuck with you if you don’t fuck with him, but if you fuck with him in even the slightest way (touch him on bad days, mess with his music, mess with his game, accidentally or otherwise when he doesn’t know you), he will try to end you.
It ends him in jail a lot, Jim has to bail him out every time if he's not the one himself escorting him to the station (he just drops him off at home), sometimes vouch for him to his coworkers that "he's going through a tough time" and if you see him running from the cops, he's not running from the law, he's running from getting grounded.
Calls and writes his friends back home every chance he gets, mostly about updates and t complain how much Hawkins sucks.
Small detail but Vance can't drink soda anymore, he never liked the fizz and would usually wait for it to go flat, but after returning, all soda now reminds him of Sprite and Sprite reminds him of the Basement.
He also mostly cooks for himself and Jim because while he always was a picky eater, after what happened, he won't accept food from other people unless he can watch it being made, and he refuses to go anywhere where the door can be locked from the outside.
Altogether, this does give him a bit of a reputation for being a violent asshole who gets away with everything because his dad's the police chief.
Hopper did threaten once to call his mom in a fight, Vance retaliated by threatening to tell her about the anti-anxiety pills he found in Hopper’s room while exploring.
Oh, the fights, have you ever tried to raise a young version of yourself that's just as a stubborn, angry, and prone to violence as you once were but twice as bad? That's what Hopper’s going through, and while he is trying to be patient because he knows Vance isn't in the best place and he kinda does deserve some of his ire, Jim has considered putting the boy's head through a wall more than once.
Now, onto the actual Disappearance of Will Byers and relationship with the Party
The Party initially thought he was just another bully and steered clear of him up until Will disappeared.
A lot of people think Vance is older than he is, like sixteen, seventeen, but in reality, he just had a growth spurt when he was, like, twelve.
I like to headcanon because of how good he is at pinball and Sarah's fascination with space when she was alive, Vance is actually pretty good at math and science if it's put into a way he understands, and while he is a grade above them, I like to think the Party's teacher would be someone who could do that even with Vance's unease around adults. Like, he just seems like a fun, laid back teacher who cares about his students.
Hopper is trying to kick his worse habits in season 1 this time since he's trying to gain Vance's trust and prove to both his ex-wife and himself that he can be a competent parent, so s1 Jim Hopper might be a bit more serious in this au.
Like his personal storyline in this au in between searching for Will wouldn't just be being reminded of his grief but also reconnecting with his estranged son, like he and Vance would both get flashbacks throughout the season of their respective traumas.
I can't remember what happened to the Byers' dog, but I'm going to use it as a way to insert Vance into the plot since I mentioned in one of my last posts, Vance loves animals.
The night Will went missing, the dog ran away once the Demogorgon disappeared. Vance found it the next morning on his way to school and skipped class to take it to the cabin for a bit, so he didn't know anyone was searching for Will until later that day when the dog led him to where the police found Will's bike.
That's how Vance officially met the Byers, when he went to return the dog, and he mostly kept coming back to see or offer to walk him. Joyce does try to talk to him sometimes since she doesn't want to be rude and she somewhat remembers him since Vance would have been 2 when the Hoppers moved out of Hawkins.
While Vance probably would try to avoid stuff about the Will Byers case because of the memories it dredges up, I do like to think of him trying to comfort Joyce once when he could see her struggling. He's not good at it but it's thought that counts.
With the stuff with the phone, maybe he overhears it or sees it one time while he's over, he remembers the phone in the Basement. How it kept ringing all those times before Finney got there, and all he and the other boys would hear was static when they picked it up, but Finn claimed to hear voices of the Grabber's past victims.
It'd have some bad implications on Vance's end and maybe he might bring it up to Hopper that maybe Joyce wasn't going crazy, but since he's still in his denial phase, Hopper would probably just tell Vance that they were going through a stressful time and made up whatever it took to cope.
That's all I've got for right now, but I'll try to get back later after rewatching some stuff.
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touyasdoll ¡ 3 years ago
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Falling
Inspired by this ask
Pairing: Shouto Todoroki x reader
Word count: 4.4k
Genre: fluff, smut
Warnings: heights?? yep. just in case, alcohol, outdoor/technically public sex, unprotected sex, emotional sex
Notes: This is my love letter & formal apology to Shouto after what I've done to him in the Plans series. Thank you to @thickbitchywitch/@katsukisdynamite for the ask that inspired this piece 🧡 sorry to make ya wait for it!
Also, I know America does everything ass-backwards, including which side of the road we drive on, but for the purpose of this fic and for the sake of all the cute little moments I wanted to cram into it, this is set in an unspecified country that might seem eerily similar to the USA.
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You slip your fingers through the warm mug of coffee resting on your end table, bringing it to your lips to savor that first, delicious sip as you gaze out the window. It’s still fairly early, the sky just having lost its pinkish hue as it ascends the horizon. There’s a crisp chill in the air outside, warm-toned leaves dancing around, carried by the light breeze that’s shaking the branches of the tree on the other side of the windowpane. After a long, hot summer, it’s finally feeling like fall.
The chime of your phone pulls you from your morning routine. You smile fondly at the caller ID, which reads: Shouto <3
“Good morning,” you chirp, setting your coffee aside to curl up on the couch, fiddling with the sleeve of your oversized sweatshirt.
“Good morning,” you can hear that adorable smile of his in his voice. “Did you sleep okay?”
“I did, thank you for asking. Did you?” You chew on the inside of your lip, fingers still absently playing with your own sleeve to work out the butterflies that have taken flight inside your belly.
It had only been a month or so since you’d started seeing Shouto after having met him through your childhood friend, Momo. She had not-so-subtly arranged for the two of you to meet by inviting you both out to coffee with her separately, saying she had a friend she was bringing along. She never had any intentions of attending, but the little white lie was necessary, of course.
If she had told either of you that she was trying to set you up, neither one of you would have shown up that day and you wouldn’t be sitting here, all smiles as you listen to his soothing voice through the receiver.
“For the most part,” he sounds nervous. Maybe that’s why he clears his throat before he continues, “I was up planning something for the two of us today. You said you were free today, right?” “Yeah, I have nothing going on,” you say almost too eagerly, blushing as you slap your hand to your face, letting it slide over your cheek as you scrunch up your features. “What, uh, what did you have in mind?”
“It’s a surprise. Bit of an all day thing, though. Can I pick you up in an hour or so?”
“An hour?” You glance at the clock, then down at your ‘clearly dressed for comfort’ attire. “Hour and a half maybe? I don’t wanna make you wait on me when I’m inevitably late.” You laugh and he returns a chuckle to your ears.
“Okay, but just for future reference, for you? I’d wait a lot longer than you’d think I might. Hour and a half is fine. I’ll take my time getting there, just in case.”
“Thank you,” the rosy tint on your cheeks increases tenfold as you murmur your goodbye. “I’ll see you soon.”
“See you soon.”
/// Two Hours Later ///
“Glad you took your time,” you beam at Shouto as you swing open the door to your apartment, gesturing for him to come inside. “I just need to pull my shoes on and then I’ll be ready to go, I promise.” You allow him inside, shutting the door behind him to keep the cold out before stepping aside to pull on your favorite pair of fall boots that complimented the cozy date outfit you’d adorned. “Can I get you anything?”
“Oh, no thank you,” he smiles politely. “I actually grabbed us some coffee on the way here. It’s down in the car. I just ordered you what you got last time, I hope that’s okay.”
“Last time?” You furrow your brow, looking at him curiously. “Like, when we met?”
“Yeah,” he nods. “I made a note so I wouldn’t forget it for the next time. Didn’t think it would be a whole month later,” he chuckles, scratching the back of his head as he glances down. “I meant to drop by your office a couple weeks ago to surprise you, but work got in the way.”
“Really?” Your expression softens, a shy smile lingering on your lips. “That’s really sweet of you. I don’t even think Momo knows my coffee order,” you laugh, grabbing your coat to pull it on as you step towards the front door.
His long stride allows him to reach the handle before you and he pulls the door open, gesturing for you to head out, “After you,” he smiles handsomely, retrieving his keys from his pocket.
“Thank you,” you nod in appreciation, stepping outside to lock the door behind him.
He strolls up to the passenger side of his sleek, black sedan to open the car door for you, making sure every piece of your ensemble is tucked inside before he shuts the door and circles around to sink into the driver’s seat.
“Hope I got it right,” he glances over at you sipping your beverage as he pushes to start the engine and it purrs to life.
“You did,” you nod reassuringly, holding the warm cup in your lap to keep your hands toasty in the chilly morning air. “Thank you again. This is really thoughtful of you.”
“Don’t mention it,” he rests his elbow on the console, letting his hand dangle above the cup holders as he drives off.
It’s quiet for a long moment. You’re too busy contemplating whether or not you should hold his hand to notice how awkward the silence feels. Should you just go for it? Have you reached that stage yet? Where you can just casually slip your hand through his like you’ve done it a million times? You’d spent plenty of time together, but not much of it was spent holding hands. That seemed so intimate and it was hard to get a proper read on him most of the time, so it was tough to say if you were there yet.
Unbeknownst to you, he’s suffering through a similar dilemma. He doesn’t know what to say. He feels like he never knows what to say around you. That ‘I’d wait for you’ line from this morning was a complete surprise to him. He wasn’t a smoother talker, ever. Something must have possessed him and now he’s just hoping that you’re not expecting him to keep up with it, because he doesn’t have the silver-tongue to do so.
He’s so wrapped up in agonizing over how to start a conversation that he doesn’t notice your left hand entering his peripheral vision, not until it’s there, your fingers reaching over and slipping through his. That is, until the moment you realize that his right hand is as cold as ice.
You jump a little, retracting your hand as you gasp quietly, instant embarrassment flooding your cheeks with heat that you wish would surge to your fingertips. He seems a bit startled, sparing a worried glance at you very briefly before returning his focus to the road.
“Are you alright?” His voice is laced with concern, which is endearing, but it only adds to the embarrassment.
“Yeah,” you squeak, “I’m sorry, I wanted to--I was going to hold your hand, but I didn’t realize that your hand wa--,”
“Was so cold,” he nods, a small smile spreading across his lips. It looked like he was trying not to laugh, which he most definitely was, but it prompted a giggle of your own.
“Yeah,” you look down at your hands, cheeks still burning as warm as the drink in your grasp. “Probably should’ve expected that, I s’pose.”
���That’s alright,” he glances over again to flash a reassuring smile in your direction before tilting his head to the left. “This side is much warmer, I promise.” He waits a beat, “A-are your hands cold? I can’t exactly lend you this hand.” He nods to the one gripping the steering wheel, “But you could, uh, put your hand in my hair?”
“Are you sure?” You laugh again, tentatively reaching your hand behind his head, letting your wrist rest on the back of the seat before he nods his permission. You push your fingers into his red hair and greeted with nothing but comforting warmth. “Oh,” you murmur, absently playing with his hair as you run your fingers through it. “You really do run warm on this side.”
“Mm, mm-hmm,” he hums quietly, fighting the urge to close his eyes and lean into your gentle touch. “Feel better?”
“Better this and the coffee, yes.”
“Good,” he chuckles, feeling a tad more comfortable now that the tension of the initial silence was broken.
“So, where is it that we’re going?” You think to ask, smiling when you see his lips turn up at your query.
“A few places,” he nods thoughtfully. “First up is apple-picking. Have you ever been?”
“No, but I’ve always wanted to,” your eyes dance with excitement and he’s grateful he spares another glance to see you perk up in your seat.
“Me either,” he glances in his rear view and looks over his shoulder before getting onto the highway. “Heading up a little further North, but I brought an extra coat for you in case it gets too cold.”
“Brought or bought something I would tell you is too expensive?” You raise an eyebrow, donning a coy smile as you momentarily halt your fingers in his hair.
“Would it help if I told you that I bought it for Fuyumi last year and never gave it to her?”
“It might,” you narrow your eyes playfully, regarding him with skepticism.
“Well, then I would tell you that, if I felt like I could lie to you,” he shrugs, a soft chuckle escaping him as he sees you shake your head in the corner of his eye. “It’s no big deal. Just about anyone could probably use a new coat for the winter anyway, right?”
“You’re not wrong,” you admit, resuming carding your fingers through his fiery locks. “But I’ve told you that you don’t need to spend your money on me. It’s so sweet, but it’s really not necessary.”
“I don’t do things that I want to do because they’re necessary. Otherwise, that’s just something that I have to do,” he half shrugs, that effortless smile on his face yet again. “I want to buy you nice things sometimes. You deserve them.”
You open your mouth to reply, but you can’t seem to find the words. No one’s ever said something so genuine to you and yet he’s done it twice just this morning, catching you off guard and rendering you speechless.
“Thank you,” you finally say, running your fingers through his hair a little slower as you study his face, smiling fondly at his profile.
“You’re welcome,” he grins and you catch yourself staring before he looks your way, turning your eyes to your coffee as you take another sip.
“So, you said there were a few stops planned on our little adventure today?”
“Yeah,” he nods, “After apple-picking, there’s actually a small farm nearby there. It’s pretty small, they usually only host private events, but there’s a pumpkin patch and this beautiful tree. Looked like a great place for a picnic, so I arranged for us to have the place to ourselves.”
You open your mouth to protest, but promptly close it and nod, “Because you wanted to?”
“Because I wanted to,” he repeats with an emphatic nod. “After that, I’ll either take you home or you can come back to my place with me. I know you mentioned a couple of scary movies that you wanted to watch, so I picked up a copy of those and that, other one you were talking about? Not the scary one, but--the one you couldn’t believe I haven’t seen?”
“Hocus Pocus?!” You say a little too animatedly, but he thinks your excitement is adorable.
“That’s the one,” he confirms. “I thought you might be excited about that one.”
“I still can’t believe you’ve never seen it,” you shake your head. “It’s a classic! And it plays on tv at least 42 times a week throughout the month of October.”
“Never been much of a movie guy,” he flicks on his turn signal, reaching his arm behind your seat to brace his hand against it before looking over his right shoulder.
You can smell the dab of cologne wafting from the inside of his wrist, his bicep flexes subtly in the position it takes and you can’t help but look at it, to take him in. He’s dressed well, as always. Dark jeans, a gray henley, and a black canvas jacket, lined with red flannel. His gaze flickers to you, a soft smile appearing on his lips in the brief moment that your eyes meet and you swear that you could melt right there, despite the cool temperature of the cab.
“Well, you might become one after today,” you turn your head, pretending to look out the window in case a shade of pink creeps back across your cheeks. “Sometimes all it takes is one good experience to change your whole perspective on something.”
“Yeah,” his gaze lingers on the side of your face as he brings his arm back to rest on the console. He wears a fond smile as he contemplates exactly how true your words ring. “That’s something I’ve recently come to realize.”
///
Romantic love wasn’t something that he was inherently familiar with. It was never demonstrated by his parents and he hadn’t had any other influences in his life to model what a healthy, loving relationship looked like. That type of love was a foreign concept. He’d come to understand platonic love over the years, but venturing into the romantic variety? It was intimidating for someone who felt like he didn’t even have the proper foundation to build on.
He was incredibly grateful to Momo for tricking him into what ended up being your first date, because he wouldn’t have had the courage to go otherwise and he knew that. He could stare danger straight in the face, but he didn’t have it in him to walk into a coffee shop with the knowledge that he’d be left to his own devices with a beautiful, intelligent woman. The latter was ostensibly more terrifying through the lens he saw the world through.
And terrifying it was. It was awkward, slightly uncomfortable, but he reasoned that most first dates were. The first time that you laughed at something that he’d said, all he could think about was making you do it again.
Your laugh, your smile, your presence. It was alluring, intoxicating even. He couldn’t explain the feeling bubbling up in the pit of his stomach as he watched you talk about your job, your goals, your interests. It was new and exciting, but paralyzing. He’d never had such a strong attachment to someone he’d only just met.
A few hours later, while you were saying goodbye, all he could think about was the next time that he would get to see you. It almost scared him how much the thought consumed him. He couldn’t believe that he had just spent one of the best afternoons of his life with someone who was a total stranger to him when he woke up that morning.
He couldn’t believe it when you agreed to go to dinner with him the next day. He was worried about it being too soon to ask to see you again, but he was more concerned with not seeing you for another week or longer.
He couldn’t believe how much he had grown to care about you in such a short amount of time when he started planning this fall excursion of yours last week. A month wasn’t a lot of time to fall in love with someone. He didn’t know much, but he knew that. Still, he couldn’t help but think that maybe this was it. Maybe this was love.
He’d thought about it a lot over the past few days, ruminating over how he would even know what falling in love felt like. He still didn’t know where to start, who to look to. All he could compare it to was one of those amusement park rides. The kind that lifts you up and dangles you hundreds of feet in the air, letting you take a good hard look at the ground, at where you could end up if something were to go wrong, before the world falls away from under you and you’re in free fall. Your stomach flying into your chest, your heart clawing its way into your throat while you hang on tight and hope that everything works out.
If love was like that? Then he was certain that he was falling. He was falling fast and he was falling hard.
///
As the day marched on, he only grew more convinced that this was it. This was the feeling that everyone raved about; that no one could get enough of. It was the little moments that solidified it for him.
The way you laughed, so carefree and joyful when he picked you up by surprise to grab that perfect apple that was just barely out of your reach.
The way he felt when you reached out and found his hand while wandering through the pumpkin patch. It was like you’d practiced the motion a thousand times, you didn’t even need to look. His heart skipped a beat.
The way that you were looking at him now, sitting across from him on the sprawled out blanket beneath the old oak tree tucked away just behind the farm. A kaleidoscope of colors above you in the leaves that danced and swayed in the gentle wind that blew around you.
There was no room for doubt. He was in love.
He had hoped that maybe the realization would bring him a sense of peace, but it only made him more nervous that he already was. He considered himself lucky when he managed to fill both glasses of wine without his trembling hands soaking the picnic blanket with a mismanaged pour.
By the time you’d finished the meal he’d packed for you to share, he was almost certain that you would be able to hear his heart beating out of his chest if you came any closer to him. Still, that was exactly where he wanted you.
He sits back against the trunk of the tree, opening his legs in a v-shape and extending his hand to you, gesturing for you to come closer with a soft expression. You return his gentle smile and oblige, moving to sit between his legs, carefully laying back against his chest. His arms wrap around you, his hands slide against the fabric of the new coat that you had thankfully decided to accept from him as he tries to keep you warm in the crisp weather.
“Thank you for today,” you murmur dreamily, turning slightly to nuzzle into his left side as he smiles down at you. “It’s been perfect.”
“I think so too,” he presses a kiss to your temple, entirely aware that you might not have heard him over the thumping in his chest. “Can I tell you something?”
“Mhm,” you hum happily, wrapping your arm around his torso.
“I don’t know how to say this, because I never have, not--not this way,” he pauses, prompting you to sit up straighter, angling your face up to look at him. “But I, uh,” he looks down into your eyes, wrapping you a little tighter in his arms as he says, “I love you.”
“You what?” You balk, blinking as if that would help you make sure your ears had heard him right.
“I know,” he looks away, loosening his hold on you, in case you might want to scurry away from him and the loaded words that he’d just dropped. “I know it’s only been 5 weeks and that might seem like far too soon to be saying such a thing, but,” he locks eyes with you, his heterochromatic orbs full of genuineness. “I mean it. I really do and I completely understand that you might not be ready to say the same for a while, if you ever feel like saying it to me at all. I just couldn’t let today end without telling you how I really feel.”
“Sho,” you sit up straight, kneeling between his legs and interlocking his hand with yours. “Do you really mean that?”
“Yes,” he reassures you with a soft smile, running his thumb along your finger as he searches your eyes, feeling a spark of immeasurable joy as he notices the way your smile reaches them.
“I love you too.” You breathe the words out and as soon as you do, it feels like a mountain has fallen off your shoulders.
He sits upright and embraces you, snaking an arm around your waist as his lips crash into yours. You return the kiss eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck as he lifts you into his lap to straddle him.
“Mm, Sho?” You speak against his lips, grinding slowly in his lap as your hand pushes into his hair, feeling that familiar warmth.
“Hmm?” He doesn’t bother parting your mouths or even slowing down. His hands push open your jacket to slip beneath your shirt, the pads of his fingers skimming your sides as you shudder under his featherlight touch.
“You said we have this whole place to ourselves? As in, no one’s around?”
“Right,” he pulls back, nodding as he slips his hands up your spine to hook his thumb under the band of your bra, raising a curious brow to you as he do so. “Do you..want to?”
You simply nod in response, the lovesick grin on your face growing wider as you kiss him again before pulling away completely and moving back to the blanket, extending your hand to him. He walks forward a few steps on his knees, cupping your face in his hand as he kisses you slow and deep, dropping his hand away to remove his jacket as you do the same, pulling yours off and setting it aside before you’re tangled in each other’s arms again.
Before long, the both of you are stripped down, shivering in the cold breeze, but unwilling to care. He balls up his coat and sets it down behind you. Thankfully, he brought along an extra blanket, which he pulls over the two of you as he very carefully lays you down, ensuring your head is cradled by the makeshift pillow and that the blanket is at least partially doing it’s job of keeping out the cold; he could keep up the difference to keep you warm.
“Are you alright?” He stops to look into your eyes as he hovers over you, tender eyes regarding you with adoration instead of lust.
“Yes,” you nod gently, reaching up to cup his face, bringing his lips onto yours to kiss him passionately and he sighs through his nose, groaning quietly as he slips inside of you.
It feels different this time, for the both of you, because it is different now. Now that you’ve bared your souls and shared something even more intimate than this deeply personal act, it has a different meaning. There’s a new connotation to this melding of bodies, because your hearts have become inextricably involved.
It’s soft. Slow and gentle. His forehead rests against yours as he bottoms out inside of you, his eyes squeezing shut at the way you clench around him. When he opens his eyes back up, he holds your gaze, staring down at you in awe as you make such pretty, broken sounds just for him. He wants to hear more. Always wanting more. More of you.
His lips find your neck, tucking away quiet promises meant only for your ears and sealing them with a kiss between each proclamation.
“I love you,” he places a kiss just below your ear.
“I think I’ve known since the moment I met you,” another lands on the pulse in your neck.
“You’re the most beautiful, kind, and capable woman that I’ve ever known,” and another to your throat.
“You make me want to be better than I am,” his lips find the other side of your neck.
“Because you deserve the very best,” one last kiss lands just below your other ear as his slow strokes reach deeper, pulling a gasping moan form your chest.
“Sho,” you mewl, mouth falling open as you look up at him, tangling your fingers in the hair on either side of his head. “Sho,” you repeat, your voice rising in pitch, morphing into a soft whine as your eyes fall shut and he buries his face in your neck, grunting and groaning as he bucks his hips just as slow, but twice as harsh, resting his hand on your belly to delicately rub his thumb over your throbbing clit.
“You gonna cum for me, love?” He grins as you nod frantically, grasping at his trapezius with one hand and the blanket beneath you with the other as you arch your back, your hips match his pace as he continues burying himself inside you over and over again.
“Gonna--oh--gonna cum, Shouto!” You keen, coming undone in a shameless display of euphoria as he lets you ride out your orgasm.
“You’re so beautiful,” he marvels before his brows pinch together, his head hanging between his shoulders as he mutters a curse under his breath. “Gonna cum, baby.”
He announces it just before he pulls out, turning himself away in time to ensure that the viscous fluid landed off to the side of where you two laid, the blanket beneath you catching the evidence of your entanglement.
He falls to your side, keeping you tucked beneath the blanket while you curl into him. His chest becomes your pillow as you cast your arm over his waist, clinging to his left side to keep warm as he presses one final kiss to your temple before tucking you under his chin.
“I love you,” he says softly, not a hint of hesitation to be found.
“I love you too,” you return the sentiment, whispering against his skin as confidently as he professed the words to you. “I love you so much.”
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Screaming & Creaming Masterlist
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absolutepokemontrash ¡ 4 years ago
Text
MC’s half Demon, and they look AWFULLY familiar...
‘Kay guys, I got a different kind of stupid Headcanon to throw at you. Get ready!
Part 2 Lessons 1-5 Part 2.5 Group Retreat Lessons 10-12 Lessons 13-15 Part 3 Part 4
*ahem* picture if you will, it’s the day the exchange program is set to start. The student council (nix Mr. Kill All Humans, Weeb-supreme, and our Scummy Sweetheart) have assembled to welcome the new human student. All is going according to schedule, the portal opens up at eight am sharp, they hear the pitiful screams of the selected human who was not given a heads up about the whole thing, and the poor little human falls straight onto the marble floor.
There’s something a tad... off about this human don’t you think? After they’ve peeled their sorry ass off the floor they observed the assembled student council with an air of sophistication and self importance that no one expected. Their posture was perfect, their eyes sharp and calculating... they bared a striking resemblance to-
“Lucifer,” Diavolo looked to his right hand man, then back to the human. “The human kind of looks like you!”
And out popped four pitch black wings from the human’s back and two small horns out of the sides of their head, one horn was a bit bigger than the other. They even still had some of their down feathers! How cute!
((Content warning: Swearing (I have a potty mouth, forgive me), but that’s it.))
Luci-dad
So, the MC is Lucifer’s kid! Of course Mr. Prideypants immediately tries to recall exactly what little romp in the human world uh... spawned this half-human half-demon child of his. Good thing MC’s got the other parent on speed-dial.
“Please note, MC,” Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose upon hearing Asmo take even more pictures of his newly discovered hellspawn. “I was not aware of your existence, if I was I’d-”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m not upset.”
Lucifer blinked a few times in surprise. “P...pardon? You aren’t upset?”
“No, my parent told me that my father was a high ranking demon, and they bare no ill will against you. Though, I am looking forward to this whole... exchange program thing.”
Oh wow, that was easier than Lucifer thought. Damn. Well, he was a father... (let’s be real, he’s been parenting his brothers for thousands of years, and a good chunk of you sinners call him daddy)
MC is probably the most protected student at RAD, despite the fact that they have no visible security detail whatsoever. They didn’t want to be seen as... weak and pathetic.
Something about this human just... set the lesser demons on edge. Any talk of eating them was stamped out on the first day when they walked by. It’s like Lucifer himself was staring at them, daring the demons to try and bother the human. MC’s powerful presence kept them protected and feared.
...at least until dear uncle Asmo decided to do their hair one morning. All those ribbons may have looked adorable but they kind of ruined the intimidation factor.
MC loved to mess with the other students, keeping their lineage a secret for the first little while just made it so much funnier when the other demons tried to scramble out of MC’s way without looking like they were running from the ‘weak little human exchange student’.
Oh wow, what a sadist. Like father like child
Flying lessons are a must. Poor MC isn’t terribly good at controlling their wings, and their horns are still growing in so when they pop into their demon form the first thing they get is a sore skull. Ow... it sucks that Lucifer isn’t outwardly very sympathetic.
“Ow!” MC crashed face first into the grass in the backyard of the House of Lamentation. “Father! My wings are cramping! Can’t we practice this tomorrow?”
The sight of seeing his dear child crash face first into the ground had lost its hilarity after the first three times. Lucifer slowly lowered himself to the ground and crossed his arms as he stood over his incredibly grass-stained kid.
“MC, we’ve been ‘practicing this tomorrow’ for the past month. If you want to learn to fly you’re going to have to actually manage to stay in the air for more than three minutes.”
MC shot Lucifer a withering glare that only preteens were capable of, Lucifer matched it with his own much more sophisticated glare.
“You’ve been flying for over a thousand years! Don’t you have any tips that can actually help other than ‘don’t panic, you’ll look ridiculous’?”
Lucifer dragged a gloved hand down his face and looked around, the two were alone as far as he could see.
“MC,” Lucifer began. “When I was a young angel, I needed to learn how to fly with someone else.”
MC perked up. “Who?”
“Michael. The smug bastard picked up flying quicker than I did.”
“What’d you do?!”
Lucifer smiled at his child’s intense investment. “I practiced flying every day for five extra hours until I could do everything that Michael could do, just better.”
MC’s starry eyed interest died almost instantly upon hearing about the extra five hours of practice. “Humph, I bet I could outfly younger you and Michael with only two hours of practice a day.”
“Really now?”
“Yes! Watch!” MC shook off their wings and took off in a running start before shakily making it into the air. Their form was decent enough, and they weren’t shaking as much as the previous attempts. “SEE?!”
“Yes MC,” Lucifer smiled. “I can see.”
You know what else Lucifer could see? MC crashing right into a tree.
“Ouch...”
Okay... maybe they could halt practice a little early and order a treat from Madame Scream’s. A little sugar to refuel is needed when the end goal is crushing a mutual rival beneath their heels. Just some good old fashioned father/child bonding time!
MC has a smaller seat right next to Lucifer’s seat in the Assembly Hall. I will not compromise on this one.
For all your fluff needs, I give you: Lucifer teaching MC how to play the piano. He has a proud little smile on his face when his kid finally starts getting it. That’s all. Enjoy the image.
That one Uncle who gives you Alcohol at Family Gatherings (Mammon)
Yeah, when Mammon burst in late to the party and whining about everyone’s spamming him with texts to haul his scummy ass to the Assembly Hall, the last thing he expected was to see a mini-Lucifer.
“What the fuck am I lookin’ at?!”
The glare the two Lucifers gave the poor Avatar of Greed was enough to make him want to turn tail (uh, wing) and book it down the hall.
“Mammon, this is MC. They’re my child.”
“Hello.”
“...whaaaa..?” Mammon looked between the two, same glare, same intimidating aura, same annoyingly good posture.
Mammon scratched the back of his neck and looked over at his older brother. “Do I uh... still gotta babysit em’ if they’re not human?”
“The lake of Cocytus will melt the day I let you babysit without supervision.” Lucifer grumbled.
“I don’t need a babysitter!”
Despite Lucifer’s initial denial, Mammon and MC ended up spending a lot of time hanging out when Lucifer was busy with paperwork. Of course Mammon’s first thought was ‘how do I profit off this situation?’
MC is now Mammon’s designated babysitter after they caught him picking up their feathers that had fallen off with the intention of painting them white and claiming they were Lucifer’s from back in the Celestial Realm.
Mammon does end up spoiling MC a little. Just a smidge. They’re the kid of his totally not his favourite brother after all! How could he not? Whether or not these gifts are obtained legally or are legal at all is subject to scrutiny.
“Mammon, I can’t drink this!” MC placed the bottle of Demonus back on the counter of the kitchen.
“Why not? That’s a bottle of the good stuff! We gotta celebrate you gettin’ an A on that test somehow!”
“I’m underage! Incredibly underage. I’m not legally allowed to drink.”
Mammon wordlessly plopped a silly straw into the bottle. “...does that help?”
“No.” MC then inclined their head to the bottle. “And I don’t want to get hung from the ceiling, that bottle was in my father’s study yesterday, I’m above theft.”
“How old are you s’posed to be anyway? Never mind... uh...” Mammon wracked his brain for something else he could do for MC that didn’t cost anything (don’t judge him, the poor bastard was flat broke!). “I could... teach you to drive!”
“Driving?”
“Yeah! Drivin’ is awesome! We can take my car!”
The bills for the damages done to the car and the Devildom were mailed to Lucifer the next day, and MC and Mammon got to keep each other company as they hung from the ceiling. Ah well! At least MC wasn’t upside down!
Mammon wasn’t that good of a flight teacher either, he also crashed into a tree (the same tree MC crashed into, actually) when he was cheering for MC. They were finally able to do a loopdy loop! He was proud and distracted! Okay?! Lucifer! Stop smirkin’ at him! It’s not that funny!
At least the vantage point from the tree was decent and the branches didn’t scratch him up too badly. Oh hey... that person walking by was wearing a very nice watch... he’d be right back-
That Uncle That is Always Absent From Family Gatherings and When He is Present He Leaves Early (Levi)
He missed everything. That is not an exaggeration. He was in the middle of an online raid battle and couldn’t look at his phone! No Lucifer he can’t pause an online game! That’s not how it works!
Okay, the human exchange student is half demon? WOAH! THAT’S JUST LIKE THAT ONE ANIME- W A I T. THE LITTLE NORMIE IS LUCIFER’S KID?!
Okie doke, he was fully convinced that MC just had to be an anime protagonist.
They binged every series that Levi compared them to. Sure MC might have missed a few assignments because of late night anime binges, but they were too good for this school crap anyway, right?
Nope. Lucifer put a ban on the two watching anime until both their grades improved. Surviving that hell brought the two together.
“Ugh!”
The sound of a pencil case being haphazardly thrown across the room made Levi peek out of his bed-tub. If his figurines got knocked over so HELP HIM-
“This is stupid!!I shouldn’t have to catch up with this!” MC crossed their arms and gave their Demonology textbook their best disapproving glare.
Lucifer Lite (tm) was having a hell of a time trying to claw through their missed work, and Levi sympathized, he really did, it’s just... he was playing Animal Crossing-
Levi paused the game to placate his anime-buddy when their wings popped out and he feared for his rare merch’s safety.
“H-hey, MC? Do you need help?” Levi’s offer was met with a bone chilling glare that lived rent free in his nightmares ever since. He had pulled a Mammon and forgotten he was talking to Lucifer’s child. Lucifer’s allergy to help must have passed down to MC.
“No! I don’t! It’s just... dumb!” MC hissed, she turned and looked over at the fish tank. “Right Henry 2.0?”
Henry 2.0 did not respond.
“MC, you need to finish your homework or we can’t watch anything together,” Levi sighed, he had finished his work over an hour earlier. He had mastered the art of all night anime binges and managing to do most of his work in the fifteen minutes between the time he woke up and the time school was supposed to begin. “We haven’t even binged all of volume 4 of TSL yet!”
“Mmm...” MC grumbled. “Fine...”
MC picked up their pencil case and began continued their work. Levi breathed a sigh of relief and went back to Animal Crossing.
The tiny normie did in fact finish their work, only after they caved and asked Levi for help. Swore him to secrecy, they did... very intimidating, they were.
Just saying, he most definitely sent that one Keanu Reeves meme with big Keanu and little Keanu but with Lucifer and MC to the wrong group chat. Poor bastard.
Flying lessons? No. Levi hadn’t flown since his time in the Celestial Realm, he had no advice to give other than: “Flap your wings!”
“THAT’S WHAT I’M DOING YOU-”
MC didn’t get to finish that thought, they lost their balance and fell right into RAD’s fountain. Ah well, Levi had a head start on running for his life that he squandered by laughing at MC. RIP.
The Uncle/brother/whatever the fuck that Starts a Fight With Your Dad at the Family Reunion. (Satan)
Oh... another Lucifer? Eugh. Gross.
Satan gave the kid a wide berth when they first met. Everything the kid said or did ticked him off. “Tsk. Look at MC. Making an omelette. So annoying.” “Oh wow, MC vacuumed? Roll out the red carpet, we need to celebrate their existence!” “Look at them. Breathing. Disgusting.”
MC’s pride wouldn’t ever let them admit it but... they knew Satan didn’t like them, and it hurt their feelings.
“Shhhh,” Satan whispered into his backpack.
“Meow.” The backpack replied.
“I said shhhhh.”
The backpack did not reply after that, which was a good thing considering the little princet of the HOL was nearby.
“Satan?” They asked. “Who are you talking to?”
Satan coldly brushed past them as he made his way to his room. “No one you need to concern yourself with.”
When the little calico kitten was safe in his room, Satan quickly realized a mistake in his foolproof ‘sneak a cat into the house’ plan. He didn’t have any toys for the kitten, and he didn’t want his books getting scratched...
It was alright, he’d just rush out to the a store that sold cat things and rush back! Five minute trip tops!
Well when Satan got back the cat was no longer in the room. Oh dear. He discreetly tore apart the house looking for the poor little thing until he ended up finding it in the library, happily chasing around a loose feather being held up by MC.
“Oh, hello Satan.” MC chirped as the kitten batted it’s adorable little paws at the feather.
“My... my door was closed. Did you let the cat out?”
MC shrugged. “I heard meowing.”
Satan ran a hand through his hair and grumbled. Stupid smaller Lucifer. Stupid original Lucifer. Everyone sucked.
“Let me guess, you’re going to run to Lucifer and tell him all about the meowing and the rule breaking.”
MC shook their head and glared at Satan. “Of course not. I’ve already gotten way too attached to this little guy anyway. We’re co-parenting this kitten like mature adults.”
With some coaxing, Satan did sit down and play with the kitten, maybe MC wasn’t... so terrible.
The two watch Unsolved Mysteries together, that’s their show. “This guy did it.” “Satan, we’re two minutes into the episode-” “Trust me.”
Thirty minutes later.
“He did it.” “See MC, what’d I tell you?”
Lucifer did find out about the cat, but with enough pleading, MC and Satan managed to warm up the cold spot in Lucifer’s chest where his heart should have been. The cat’s name is Detective Toe Beans (or just Bean).
Satan can’t fly, he has a tail, but he did read up on wing anatomy and how flight actually works in demons, his advice would be good in theory, but it’s full of so much technical jargon that MC can’t understand it.
At least MC didn’t crash into something, they barrel rolled through one of the HOL’s windows. Good thing it was the window to their room. The broken arm still hurt like hell.
The Best Dressed Bitch Who Brings The Booze to The Reunion. (Asmo)
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
Lucifer’s kid was SO CUTE! A thousand pictures commemorating that adorable moment needed to be taken! Wait- Lucifer- GIVE BACK THE PHONE-
Asmo, surprise surprise, absolutely adores little MC! So cute! So small! He was just so excited to announce to all his Devilgram followers that Lucifer was finally a certified DILF.
That post disappeared five minutes after it was made but the damage had already been done.
Asmo made sure MC looked their best at all times, if they needed help talking to anyone? Asmo’s got their back!
Sure, maybe he’s a little pushy, but pushy’s a good thing sometimes, right?
“Asmodeus-”
“No, these shoes wouldn’t fit you...”
“Asmo-”
“No, not these ones either...”
“ASMODEUS.”
Asmo squeaked and jumped upwards, Geez Louise... little MC’s voice could sure be scary when they wanted it to be...
“I don’t need any fancy new shoes.” MC huffed, sitting up straighter in one of the chairs in Asmo’s room. “I thought this was supposed to be a sleepover.”
“Hmmm...” Asmo pouted. “Makeovers are an essential part of sleepovers... what’d you do with your human friends up in the human world that could possibly be better than a make-over?!”
MC began to list things off. “Ordered junk food, talked about people we hated, watched movies,”
“Greasy food is so bad for your skin...” Asmo cringed and shook his head violently. “But I’m totally down to watch a movie and bitch about people I hate!”
“Ah yes, human sleepovers, a tradition I never quite had the chance to enjoy.” Solomon said from Asmo’s bed. “Who are we bitching about?”
“Remind me what Solomon is doing here.” MC muttered as they sat down in front of Asmo’s TV.
“Because, I wanted to hang out with my two favourite humans.” Asmo cooed, reaching over and trying to pinch MC’s cheek, which they awkwardly dodged.
“Can we watch The Exorcist?” Solomon asked, propping his head up with his hands.
“Ew, no.” Asmo made a face at him. “That scene with the vomit? Hell NO.”
“Mm.” MC mumbled. Asmo turned to look at them.
“MC? Are you doing okay? You don’t look like you’re having any fun...”
“I’m fine.” MC grumbled.
Asmo pursed his lips, as much as it made his little narcissistic heart break, he nudged MC. “Why don’t you pick the movie, sweetie. I’m sure Solomon and I will like anything you pick!”
MC noticeably brightened. “Let’s watch Scream!”
The strangled noise that came from Asmo was... concerning, but to his credit, The Avatar of Lust held his tongue about his distaste for the movie, and the three slumber-party goers had quite the lovely time.
After the movie ended, MC went back to their room, sure it was a sleepover but their bed was right down the hall.
Good for Asmo and Solomon. Horny fuckers. We stan.
Asmo just claps and tries to cheer MC on when it comes to their flying lessons. (The idea that Asmo came up with to wear his cheerleader costume from the previous Halloween was immediately shot down by Lucifer)
“You’re doing wonderful, MC- WATCH OUT FOR THE POWER LINE!”
MC didn’t hit the power line, but Asmo’s scream of terror caused them to fall butt-first into a dumpster. Their injured tailbone served as a tragic memory of the incident.
Oh well, good thing Asmo had nice smelling soap to give that could mask dumpster-stink.
The Uncle that eats everything and tells you to eat your veggies while you angrily pick at your broccoli at the kid’s table. (Beel)
Lucifer... has a kid?! Beel choked on the cheetos he had snuck into the Assembly Hall when the kid’s wings popped out.
Oh wow, that’s nice :) maybe they can eat together. Belphie would probably like them.
Wait what is the gender neutral term for Niece or Nephew?
...Nibling? Uh... let’s not say that around Beel. We don’t need him to get hungrier and begin associating MC with nibbling on things.
The Underground Tomb incident probably went a little differently, but after all that nonsense, the two are closer than two peas in a pod!
Mmm... peas...
“Beel?” MC stepped into the Avatar of Gluttony’s room.
“Hi MC.” Beel was doing push-ups in the middle of the room, on the ground right beneath his head was a massive bowl of spaghetti that he bit into every time he completed a push-up. “Can you come stand on my back? I need the extra weight.”
“On your back?” MC padded closer. “Are you sure? It’s not going to hurt?”
“No, it’ll be okay.” Beel assured them. “Belphie and I did this all the time. Except Belphie is normally asleep.”
MC tentatively stepped onto Beel’s back. It was a balancing act to say the least, they eventually gave up on standing and ended up sitting cross legged between Beel’s shoulder blades.
“You did this with Belphegor?” MC asked.
“Yeah,” Beel sighed. “He was always too tired to exercise, but he’d let me bench press him sometimes...”
MC frowned and hugged their knees to their chest. Knowing full well that Beel’s twin wasn’t in the human world like Lucifer said was absolutely ripping them apart from the inside. Guilt felt just as rotten as their pride did when they were being belittled...
“Maybe you’ll see him again sometime soon.” MC whispered. “Maybe my father’ll come to his senses and let him come back down to the Devildom.”
Beel paused his push-ups for a brief moment, then nodded and went back to his eating exercising combo. “I hope so. He’ll like you, MC. I’m sure of it.”
MC nodded. “I... hope so.”
Beel’s a pretty decent flight teacher, but his wings are just so different from MC’s that it renders any tips he had next to useless.
“MC, maybe your wings aren’t flapping fast enough.”
“Beel, I appreciate the thought, but I’m not a hummingbird. Or a fly. I don’t need to flap my wings a million times a minute to stay afloat.”
Ah well, MC tried to take some of Beel’s advice, but their lower right wing cramped up and they ended up flying in circles until Beel was able to catch them. Ah well, better than the dumpster incident the previous week.
The Uncle That Passes Out in The Basement and You’re Not Allowed to Wake Him Up Even Though All Your Toys and Video Games Are Down There. He Also Picks a Fight With Your Dad’s New S/O Before He Passes Out. (Belphie)
Sitting in the attic was quite a drag, and this supposedly weak little human was quite the annoyance to try and call out to. It took a lot longer than expected, but when he heard little footsteps coming towards his prison, Belphegor nearly jumped with joy.
Oh... it... looked like Lucifer. Smelled like Lucifer. Stood like Lucifer. Quacked like Lucifer. Or... trilled..? Whatever sound a peacock made, this brat sounded an awful lot like Lucifer.
A... half-demon. Hmph. Belphie honestly thought Lucifer had actual standards. Not anymore, he guessed.
(Man I could fill a whole-ass fic with the Belphie betrayal thing, but for now let’s skip to post attic nonsense)
Okay so maybe MC wasn’t disgusting. They made a good nap buddy. It was cute when their wings came out when they were sleeping sometimes. Well... it was cute when they didn’t hit him in the face and make him wake up with his mouth full of feathers.
What Beel said had been true, Belphie made a good substitute when weights weren’t available, but Beel didn’t want MC to feel left out, so Belphie and MC ended up sitting on his back while he did push ups. MC once got bored and started playing Go Fish with Belphie on Beel’s back while he exercised.
Yes. MC is still a member of the Formerly-Anti-Lucifer League.
“Are you sure he’s not going to be too mad at us?” MC asked for the dozenth time that day. Detective Toe Beans was wrapped around their neck like a scarf (he had gotten so big!!!) while MC nervously sat in one of the Library chairs.
“Positive.” Belphie said with a toothy grin. “Besides, he’s like putty when it comes to you. Just give him your best puppy eyes and we’re not guilty on all charges.”
Putty..? Really..? Lucifer..? How strict was he before MC got there... they wondered.
“Sh! He’s coming!” Satan stuck his nose into a random book, it was the Oxford English Dictionary... and it was upside down.
Belphie pretended to pass out and MC decided that the best course of action was to stare deeply into their cat’s eyes. Yeah... that looked casual and not weird.
“Satan, MC, Belphie.” Lucifer nodded to the three of them as he walked towards the entrance to his study.
“Lucifer.”
“Afternoon, father.”
Belphie let out a cartoonishly loud fake snore that nearly caused both MC and Satan to break cover and start laughing.
Side note, Bean had adorable widdle eyes! That cute little face was just to die for-
“You three..!”
Belphie, Satan, and MC peeked their heads into Lucifer’s study, their handiwork was perfect. Everything was covered in red post it notes. Perfectly not harmful, but SO inconvenient!
“You’re all cleaning this up or so help me-”
“GO!” Belphie and Satan each grabbed one of MC’s arms (Satan also grabbed Bean) and sprinted out of the House of Lamentation. Maybe they’d move back there in twenty years... they hoped that Solomon and The Angels would let them crash at Purgatory Hall...
Belphie had used up his physical energy supply for the next four years. He passed out the moment they stepped into sanctuary. Time for a nap...
Flight practice? Ha. Belphie’s napping. Though, he was suspiciously awake and filming whenever MC did something stupid.
“Try not to suck so bad.”
“GO TO HELL BELPHIE!”
“I’m already there. Hell is every second I’m stuck here watching you fail.”
“YOU’RE GOING TO GET IT FOR THAT!”
Well... MC mastered the dive bomb that day. Lucifer bought them a cake.
Bonus! Your Dad’s New Husband! That Has Managed to Somehow Make Everyone Hate Him Despite the Fact That He’s A Cinnamon Roll. (Diavolo)
A mini Lucifer? A mini Lucifer!
Diavolo dotes on MC like he’d dote on his own kid. MC wants a crown? They’re getting a crown! A damn nice one too! MC wants a title? Here! MC is now... idk Ruler of the area between Majolish and Hell’s Kitchen.
Poor Uncle Mammon’s got some financial insecurity, he’s still the cool uncle... right?!
He is very much that ‘how do you do fellow kids?’ Meme.
He tries to do stereotypical ‘dad’ things but he’s not very good at them. Once he tried to host a barbecue...
Barbatos saved the day, but Mammon’s hair was still singed, Solomon’s cooking still gave Beel food poisoning (SOLOMON EATS TOXIC WASTE I SWEAR-), Luke still got hit in the face with a frisbee, and Simeon got an unhealthy dose of DAD NERVES and got so stressed everyone was almost blinded by the holy light he suddenly started blasting. We do not mention the water guns.
(Seriously whose bright idea was it to give Belphie and Satan water guns while they were in Lucifer’s presence?)
Praise Barbie. He’s too good for them.
“Um...” MC awkwardly held up the baseball, trying to look at it from all angles like it was a completely alien object. “Lord Diavolo... are you sure you want to play catch?”
Diavolo clapped his hands and bounced on the balls of his feet. “Yes! It’s a thing human fathers do with their children, correct? We must make up for lost time between you and Lucifer, right?”
Lucifer massaged his temples and nodded. “If you two would like to play catch...” Lucifer grimaced. “I will too.”
“Okay! MC, throw the ball to Lucifer!” Diavolo instructed.
Lucifer half heartedly held up his baseball glove as MC tossed him the ball. He caught it, and looked over at Diavolo, who was applauding like he just witnessed the greatest feat in sports history.
“Okay! Throw it to me!” Diavolo waved his glove in the air, Lucifer rolled his eyes and smiled. He threw the ball at Diavolo with... a lot of force. Enough force to probably dent steel... Diavolo caught it like it was nothing.
MC suddenly feared for their safety.
“Okay MC, catch!”
Diavolo threw the ball with enough force to break the god damn sound barrier. Well, maybe that was an exaggeration, but the ball sailed way over MC’s head and crashed right through a window.
“Oh my...” Diavolo put a hand on his hip and surveyed the damage to the window. “This isn’t so bad, I believe in human world TV shows this happens quite often. Look! The glass broke in a perfect circle!”
“Yay... property damage...” MC murmured.
Lucifer sighed and pulled out his DDD. “I’ll phone someone to replace the win-”
“Lucifer no! Now according to human world customs we must,” Diavolo took a deep breath, rushed forward, grabbed both Lucifer and MC’s hands and started sprinting away from the Demon Lord’s Castle. “RUN FOR IT!”
“Di- Diavolo!” Lucifer gasped.
“Who are we running from?! That’s your castle!” MC squeaked.
“I don’t know! Just run! That’s what the human TV show says to do!”
Weirdly enough, Diavolo was the best flight instructor. MC’s ability to fly increased tenfold after Diavolo found out that MC was learning to fly.
“You’re doing amazing MC! That was a perfect turn!”
“Thanks Lord Diavolo, I’m surprised I haven’t crashed into anyone or fallen yet!”
“Well, I highly doubt you’ll be crashing into anyone anymore, your flying is practically perfect now!”
Mammon proceeded to fly past them holding what looked like Lucifer’s wallet.
“M-mammon?!”
“Oh... I wonder what he’s doing. Look, MC! It’s Lucifer! Hello Lucifer dea-”
Lucifer ended up colliding with the two of them and sending them all crashing to the floor.
That was the last time MC fell during flying practice.
(We currently have a Go Fund Me set up for Mammon to get the funds necessary to flee the Devildom after that incident. Please donate to save- oh shit hi Lucifer-)
958 notes ¡ View notes
colossal-fallout ¡ 4 years ago
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@cursedranger121​ asks;  Mikasa x Male Bodied Reader modern setting. MBR Mikasa at a party. I'll let you pick kinks used, but any possessive elements from Mikasa in it would just be *chefs kiss* perfection.
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Male Reader X Mikasa Ackerman - Modern AU 
AN: Sorry if this seems a little rushed. I was half way through earlier and Tumblr decided not to save the draft. It’s not the first time it’s happened either... sigh. 
Warnings: NSFW. 18+ Orgasm denial. Smut. Alcohol consumption. Slight possessiveness. 
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Your stomach flutters and churns with eagerness and excitement as you pull up to the booming house, the siren call of a night of fun and debauchery calling your name.  
As you step out of the cab, your name is already called over the music from the people spilled out onto the lawn. You turn your head to see Eren and Jean standing with a beer in hand, raising them at you in a greeting. You begin to walk towards your friends as the cab makes its way back down the long, isolated country lane. Historia’s house is ideal for parties. It’s nestled within the middle of nowhere. No one is to be disturbed and the chance of someone calling the cops for a noise complaint is minimal.  
“What took you so long?” Jean asks before putting the glass bottle to his lips.  
“Work.” You sigh, gladly taking a fresh bottle Eren hands you.
The hiss of the suds is like music to your ears as you finally get to have fun with your friends after a long week. You relish the bubbles and foam that dance on your tongue with a bitter tang, the sound of laughter from within the house already lifting your spirits to a higher place.  
Your attention is pulled when Historia calls your name in a greeting and a wave from the porch as she keeps her farmhand boyfriend company as he sparks up a cigarette.  
The three of you slink over and exchange greetings - Sasha's booming laugh ringing from somewhere inside the house.  
"Mikasa's been looking for you." Historia mutters as Jean and Eren head inside.
Your cock twitches in a hopeful flutter at those words. Your eyebrow arcs as you shrug it off casually.
You and Mikasa had been chatting over the months. You'd even went on a date which had to be cut short because work had called you in. You were sure she'd lost interest until Historia lets out a small giggle.  
"She's been looking forward to you coming."
Maybe you still do have a chance?  
Tampering down your eagerness you nod in thanks for that titbit of information as you follow your best friends into the interior of the Hallway.  
Your memories decided to remind you of the moments your eyes had accidentally rested upon her beautiful chest during a conversation or her peachy ass as you headed up the stairs on your date. Her soft skin, her scent... It drove you wild. Those sweet lips and October sky blues along with that adorable little blush she hued whenever you stared a little too long... you were more than happy to see her again.
An hour went by in the blink of an eye as you caught up with your friends and let loose. Mikasa was indeed happy to see you, greeting you with a warm hug and her smile was evident from across the room. You tried to ignore the sly nudging's from Eren’s elbow and the envious pout from Jean as you chatted with the raven-haired beauty.  
At one point, you were about to take a swig of your drink when Annie purposefully knocked herself into you, your suds soaking the front of your shirt.  
“Ah, shit.” You sigh. “What was that for?”  
“Oh, lighten up.” She beams.  
The pink hue across her cheeks showed she was either drunk or just blushing at your presence; which you seriously doubted.  
“How have you been?” She then asks casually, as if you weren’t now patting your chest dry with your hand fruitlessly.  
“Good thanks. Yourself?”  
Before she can even reply you flinch at the surprisingly soft touch of someone snaking their arm around your waist, followed by a familiar scent.  
“Hey.” Mikasa smiles, giving you a little squeeze.  
Annie’s eyes roll. “Do you mind? We’re kinda in the middle of a conversation.”  
All your mind can focus on in your touch starved state is the feeling of Mikasa’s chest pressing against your arm.  
“Yeah, I do mind.” Mikasa smiles in reply. “He’s with me tonight. Okay?”  
Annie shakes her head and walks away, muttering. “Whatever. Not worth my time anyway.”
The raven-haired beauty pushes her nose against yours, her eyes crossing as they focus on your orbs. “You’re all wet. Come on, let’s get you more comfortable.” She laces her fingers within yours before leading you up the stairs, the building still vibrating under your feet from the thumping music.  
You were expecting her to take you to the bathroom to get dried up. But she’s taken you to one of the spare bedrooms, locking the door behind you and guiding you to sit on the bed. A cool and welcomed breeze rolls over you from the open window, the light drapes floating in the updraft. You weren’t sure why you were focusing on that. Maybe you were nervous, as Mikasa begins to unbutton your wet shirt.  
“We’ll hang it to dry…” she whispers, her eyes enlarging as more of your skin becomes revealed to her. You couldn’t identify why just yet, but as her face came close to yours, all you could think about was that beautiful draft from the damn window. Your head snaps away from hers as she pushes the material down your arms.  
Your mouth becomes dry as her now heavy lidded ocean blues close the gap between you.  
“Mikasa… how much have you had to drink?” you mutter, realizing it was your conscience preventing you to enjoy the moment.  
An etch of crimson sketches across her nose as she shyly glances away. “You’re so sweet. Don’t worry. I’ve only had two drinks all night.”
Her hands then slide up your chest to your shoulders, her slender fingers brushing up and circling your back. “Don’t you want me?”  
Of course, you do.  
You gaze down into her eyes, hopeful with a bittersweet undertone of a fear of rejection. As if you would.  
“YEE YEE!”  
Your heads snap to the window as the sounds of Connie and Sasha heading out into the back yard for air carries up on the breeze above the muffled booms of the bass.  
You both let out a small laugh. You adored your crazy friends.  
Knowing she wasn’t intoxicated; your confidence returns - your hands running through her hair as you firmly pull her gaze to yours.  
“I want you too. You’re so beautiful…”  
Her blush deepens as you press your lips against hers, a small moan already emitting from her throat. By the sounds of it, she’d wanted you for a while now.  
You’re not sure how long you’d made out with her for. You’d pulled her down to lie next to you, your hands palming her breasts, her hair and shape. But however long you had been, she was a flustered mess – her hair dishevelled and face deep red as your lips trail down her neck, leaving sucks and nips, her skin darkening as you mark her.  You could tell she was becoming desperate for more as her hips begin to absent mindedly grind on your thigh, her sex desperate for some friction from you. Your own throbbing cock was an indication of your own yearning as you sit up slightly, pushing her onto her back. Your hands fumble her shirt, quickly removing it - her breasts spilling out pulling out an unintentional groan from your depths of perversion.  
“Fuck...” You gasp at the sight of her squirming under you.  
Your cock is pulsing, begging to be inside of her as you pull down her pants and sighing as the scent of her arousal rolls down with the material. Her pussy is small and pink, neat and gleaming as if weeping for you to touch it.  
Your hands harshly  
Grab the underside of her thighs, pushing her knees to her chest as you begin to sensually kiss her fluttering slit.  
“Ah~!” She gasps, her chest pushing up and her grip tightening on the sheets beneath her.  
Her taste is like copper with a nice, sweet aftertaste, your finger stroking and teasing her entrance as your tongue harshly bats against her clit. Her eyes clamp close as her entire body tenses and trembles, the ignition of your act lighting up the kerosene of her yearning for you.  
You push your finger inside of her, followed by a second before you curl them and beckon at her g-spot as she melts into the palm of your hand in gasps and moans. You can’t actually believe you finally have Mikasa like this, the most vulnerable a person could be as you massage her insides with the pads of your fingers, building her orgasm from the very foundation, each wiggle, each stroke making her more and more hysteric, your name now leaving her parted lips.  
“Do my fingers feel good inside you? Huh?” You breathe onto her slit, her head bobbing in confirmation.  
You return to her nub; flicking and licking, your pace quickening as her wetness starts to splash around onto your wrist, her insides beginning to spasm erratically.  
“Ah, I'm... going to...” She whines, almost shy and embarrassed you were about to see her come undone.  
You slow your pace to a painfully gentle rhythm. “Hold back for me baby... wait for me.”  
Her hands run through her hair as you pull out your cock that’s been begging to be freed for some time now. You grab the base of the shaft, prodding your swollen head at her hole.  
“You ready for me?” You pant.  
“Yes!” She sobs.  
With a long push, you groan loudly as her warm insides embrace your entirety. Each bump and ridge rub you in the exact right way as you slide inside, her walls assisting your movement and pulling you in as she sighs deeply, her nails digging into your arms as you hover over her.  
“Shi~~t...” You hiss. “God, you feel so good.”  
Once you’re at the hilt, you lower yourself to her neck hiding your head into the crook while you begin to slowly dip your hips in and out of her, your moans muffled as you bite and kiss her neck and earlobe whispering all sorts of things. Anything your mind musters up about her.  
“You’re so tight...”  
“Oh baby... fuck... it’s too good...”  
Each slow drag of you, her volume and desperation increase slightly, the wet sounds of her cunt sucking you and pushing you are turning you onto another level while her nails sink into your back, your name leaving her over and over.  
“Please, don’t stop...” She begs, her eyes watering from the intensity of pleasure.  
You rut a little faster, caressing her hair as your cock begins to throb with more violence, the deep feeling in your stomach telling you that your time is almost there.  
“Cum for me...” You whisper. “Let me hear that pretty moan as you cum around me...”  
“y/n... oh my god...” Her walls tighten and clamp you in place as you push her over the edge, her silent scream beyond human perception as your rhythm falters, your thick cream spilling out inside of her as you both unravel into the ether.  
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secretshinigami ¡ 3 years ago
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Meet you under the sun
Author: @lightlessons For: @danthegeek Pairings/Characters: Light Yagami/L Lawliet, Misa Amane, Kiyomi Takada. Rating/Warnings: M. Mature language, Swear words, Alcohol consumption.  Prompt: AU Light is a popular Collage Student and invited to a beach party. He is having a lot of fun, is flirty and arrogant as we know him. He is dancing with Misa, who is not his girlfriend but has a crush on him. Then, L joins the party, somebody brought him along. He is chilling awkwardly by the buffet when Light takes notice of him and joins him at the buffet. He has seen him before a couple times on the campus, but never talked to him. What happens next is up to you…
Author’s notes: I bent the specifics a bit in that I had Light talk to L  just a bit after seeing him instead of immediately, because i felt it fit the pacing I had better. Hope it’s still okay though :-) 
—————————–
“Don’t tell me you’re a Beach Volleyball junior champion too,” Takada joked after Light obliterated (yet again) a team of what appeared to be sociology majors, or something equally pointless, she had that small, half-hearted smile that was so characteristic of hers but with the slight frown of someone who isn’t used to being impressed.
Light laughed humbly. 
“I’m not. Maybe my experience with tennis helps somewhat? But I’ve really never played it before.”
His classmate sighed, and Light thought that being constantly made aware of his numerous skills had to be tiring for her. “You must be just naturally talented then,” she supposed as she fixed her hair behind her ear in a strange bashful gesture that must mean she was finally surrendering over to Light’s natural charm, as one would expect. 
“Or those two are just awful,” Light smirked conspiratorially. 
The young bourgeois laughed, which was what Light was hoping to achieve. Takada always enjoyed laughing at other people’s expense.
Light wasn’t much of a fan of the beach. There was too much sand getting into bad places and too many people acting as if the transition from monkey to hominid had never been made. Too much noise and too much sun and too many girls asking him to slather them with sun blocker, as if he’d pop a boner over touching their skinny naked backs. But, if there was something he’d learned from a very young age was the importance of having good public relations, and so when Kiyomi Takada had invited him to an exclusive beach party, he knew he wouldn’t say no to the daughter of the Sankei Newspaper’s owner. He’d gone into To-Doh not just looking for a quality education after all but in the hope of forming good connections too. 
And this party, filled with Tokyo’s most important youth, was a perfect opportunity to start rubbing shoulders. Light was young and attractive and athletic, perfectly composed to be like a bug zapper for these kinds of things. 
Plus, the lively music and the three margaritas he’d already had were kinda getting to him. 
“LIIIIIIIIGHT!!!” A familiar voice suddenly screeched from somewhere behind him. 
Oh dear God. 
Five feet of blond supermodel darted towards him through the small crowd of spectators that had formed for the match. Misa Amane, bimbo extraordinaire, had finally shown up to the party in all her unbridled glory. 
“Oh, that was so cool! You’re always so cool, Light,” she proclaimed with shiny eyes while all the other men around and some of the women ogled her in her small two-piece red bikini with a blackthorns and vines pattern, as characteristic of the gothic style she favored. 
Now, Light didn’t dislike Misa. She was cute in a very whiny-cat kind of way. Sort of endearing at first but jarring as the volume increased and the minutes went on. The first time they met she’d claimed she felt a cosmological affinity towards him or some such bullshit and then proceeded to interrogate him for his zodiac, moon, and rising sign, whatever the hell that meant–he hadn’t been paying attention. She was useful, though, in that she was somewhat famous and happily willing to do him any favors, or connect him with any of her large contact lists, even when he’d already been clear about not being interested in any non-friendly relation with her (using the hardships that came to celebrities’ partners as an excuse), he was a gentleman, after all, and he wouldn’t toy with a woman’s feelings. 
“Hey Misa,” Light gave her an easy smile that would hopefully settle her for the rest of the day. 
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere for the past week! Where have you been hiding? Not with Kiyomi, I hope!”
Takada at his side made an affronted sound that seemed to choke on the way up her throat. 
“Behave, Misa. I’ve told you I’m not your property,” Light belittled her with only mild sternness. 
Misa shook her head enthusiastically. 
“Misa is only teasing, Light! She promises! Besides, Kiyomi and I have started getting along since Spanish class. Haven’t we, Kiyomi?" 
Kiyomi seemed startled for a moment, as if she didn’t expect Misa to call her out like that, but recovered quickly to settle her face into her usual cold mask of indifference. 
“I suppose so.” 
“Aw, don’t be like that. We even planned a fake trip to Playa del Carmen together! Oh, Light, you should join us!” 
“I’m taking Korean.” 
“Not in class, silly, on the trip!” 
"Right�� then I happen to be busy around that time of year,” he joked, throwing a smirk at Takada and earning the most formal of snorts he’d heard. 
"Miss Amane does have a fondness for fantasizing,” Takada replied instead, like a ready viper waiting for the perfect moment to strike at her victims. Oh, there’s no need to be mean with her, Kiyomi. 
The implications seemed to get lost on the blonde, however. 
“Pfft, you’re no fun. I’ll borrow him for a bit, Kiyomi. Clearly he needs a little loosening up, and you’re not exactly a party animal, are you?” 
Before Kiyomi could reply Misa had already taken Light’s arm and dragged him to the bar for more drinks. Light had to admit, the cocktails options were impressive, and he sort of wanted to try everything on the menu, but in the end, following the beach spirit, he and Misa both ordered a piña colada, and while usually, he wasn’t a fan of too much sweet in his alcohol, the fresh taste felt like a blessing under the hot summer sun, enough that soon he found himself chatting amicably with Misa and even had to catch himself from -dear God- giggling at something she said. 
Such was his mildly buzzed state when a sight at the corner of his eyes caught his attention. Turning around, he understood why. A black-haired man was standing under a palm tree and sipping at his own colada, with his back very badly curved in an awful posture and huge eyes fixed somewhere on the sand. Weirdly enough, he was wearing jeans to the beach with only a loose tank top to combat the scorching weather, and still, his wild mop of hair was the most recognizable part of him, which was in itself something, as Light had never in his life seen someone more particular. He’d seen the other boy around campus a handful of times before, but there had never been an opportunity for him to approach him, even though Light had always felt an inexplicably strong pull for him to ask him about his name. 
Misa loudly calling his name made him realize he’d been staring. 
“Misa, do you know who that is?”
Misa squinted in the direction of Light’s eyes, face lighting up with recognition. 
“Of course! That’s Ryuzaki! He’s actually the inheritor of Wammy’s Co. But not many people know about that,” the model smirked like she was telling the juiciest gossip. “People like Takada probably think he sticks out like a sore thumb around here. But the truth is, he’s got more money than any of us combined.” Light’s ears perked up at that. “He’s also one of the smartest people you’ll ever meet, and I’ve met you, Light. I don’t know who invited him, though. Let’s ask him! Hey, Ryuzaki!!" 
The odd student turned around towards the voice calling him and tilted his head to the side in silent interrogation. 
The boy’s assemblage of quirks brought a smile to his face. He hadn’t allowed himself to think it before, but he had always thought the student was rather cute even with how little he knew of him. 
“Who invited you?!” 
Light winced and glared at Misa for how carelessly she had posed such a question, but Ryuzaki didn’t seem the least bit faced and instead cupped a hand near his mouth like a mock-megaphone and shouted: “I just came for the desserts!” with a wide-eyed expression that gave no indication whatsoever of if he was teasing or not. 
Misa laughed like she’d heard the best joke ever and Light just blinked in the boy’s direction.
“Isn’t he a blast?” She hollered as Ryuzaki’s eyes met his.
It was hard for Light to describe those few seconds, but for one single moment, the strings holding his soul together seemed to vibrate at a different tune than they’d played previously. He was unsure if he shivered, but he had to break the eye contact like some damned school girl to pull himself back together. 
Why did his face feel warm all of a sudden? 
"Ooh, I love this song! Let’s dance, Light!” Misa interrupted his thoughts again with a squeal.
“Uhh, sure, yeah…" 
×~°~×~°~×~°~×~°~×
Dancing was decidedly not as fun unless you had a certain amount of alcohol in your body. Or at least, that was Light’s opinion on the matter. Who’d enjoy several hours of mindlessly moving your body unless somehow inebriated? That’s why Light had to drink another two mimosas to keep up with dancing with Misa for five songs straight, not because he was somewhat shaken up about the guy with the bird’s nest hair and the absent look –Ryuzaki, his brain provided– and certainly not because he was figuring out how to approach him. 
He separated from Misa when the sun was already setting, bathing the sea with a last warm goodbye. Everyone at the beach stopped for a moment to marvel at it, but Light only had eyes for Ryuzaki, who was… nowhere to be seen, sending Light into a momentary panic. 
He almost slapped himself when he found him below the parasol housing the buffet. It was what Ryuzaki had said before about the only reason for coming to the party. Normally, he would have remembered, which only meant Light’s brain wasn’t behaving as fast as it normally would. It couldn’t be that he’d have too much to drink, could it? 
Alright, be smooth, Yagami. 
“Hello!” Light chirped with a wide grin, planting himself beside the strange boy who was staring at the lines of sweets like they were study material. 
Ryuzaki turned to him with a blink. 
That had come higher than intended. 
"We, uh, are in the same faculty? I’ve seen you around 345.”
“Light Yagami. Second-year Criminal Justice major. You’re the son of detective-superintendent Soichiro Yagami of the NPA." 
"Um.”
“You respect and admire your father greatly and your intention is to become the deputy director of the NPA. You’re as ambitious as you are clever.”
“Why do you-”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure you’re aware of how popular you are around here, word goes around. You’re not the only one I have this sort of information on." 
Light wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be reassuring. 
At the very least, that introduction had sobered him up. 
The other student was appraising him with a curious gaze, as he was starting to learn he looked at pretty much everything. 
"Is that the way you introduce yourself to everyone?" 
"Hmm. Yes, usually. I told you. You’re not special in that regard.”
“In what regard am I special, then?” Light asked cheekily. 
“That’s not-”
But he didn’t let him finish before walking around him like a predator would its prey. He made a show of considering what pastry he’d take and settled for a star-shaped cookie. Ryuzaki watched the whole procedure closely and Light smirked at him as he took a bite. 
Yes, I made you think about my mouth now. How’s that, smart-ass? 
“I think we should get to know each other better, don’t you?”
“And what makes you come to that conclusion?” Ryuzaki supposed. 
“Well, I want to, for one.” Light sassed.
“Are you coming on to me?" 
Light’s confident semblance cracked. It suddenly dawned on him what he was doing and where. Fuck, what if he isn’t into guys? This was why he never flirted with men unless he was sure the other person was at least bisexual! Or just let the other guys come onto him, which he never had a lack of. Shit. 
Ryuzaki seemed to notice his momentary alarm because he placed a hand on his arm in reassurance. 
"No, I’m into it. I was just surprised,” he explained with an earnestness Light wasn’t expecting. 
“Surprised?”
“People like you don’t usually flirt with me." 
"What’s people like me?" 
"Now you’re just fishing for compliments." 
Light grinned, feeling like his assured (but not overly-presumptuous) self again. 
“Swear I’m not.”
“Are you absolutely sure?”
“Your hand is still on my arm, by the way.” 
Ryuzaki blinked at the offender, which was indeed still curled around Light’s tricep like a possessive pale spider. He only let go of it slowly, finger by finger, and Light pretended he could see a faint blush on the other’s face with the last rays of sunlight. 
There was a conscious effort on his part to not brush those sharp cheeks tenderly with his knuckles, less the sudden contact spook his new sudden fascination away. 
“It appears you’re not the only intoxicated one of the two of us,” Ryuzaki admitted in a low voice.
The loud party music and noises of the crowd seemed so far away. 
Light took a step forward. 
“We should–” 
“Light!”
A group of people was coming their way, and Light recognized Takada, Okubo Chise, Kinoshita Hideo, and another fake-blond dude he’d never had any interest in talking to. Kinoshita was the son of a major tech company’s executive and was rotting in money from his million-dollar hair to the ugly fungus in his toenails. Light, sadly, had had a mild interest for him at first, but that went to shit when he came to see how much of an asshole he was. 
Kinoshita grabbed him by the shoulder, while Chise and the fake-blond planted themselves in front of Ryuzaki. Takada, for her part, just stood to Light’s side glaring in Ryuzaki’s direction. What the hell?
“Light, what is someone like you doing talking with a freakshow like Ryuzaki.” Kinoshita wondered, exposing his gums in a self-satisfied smile that quickly raised Light’s hackles. "Don’t you know nothing good ever comes from involving yourself with him?”
“Come again?” 
“It’s true, Light. He doesn’t have a good reputation,” Takada interjected, not bothering to hide the disgust in her face with a once-over to his new acquaintance. “I don’t know how he’d have the nerve to come in here, uninvited.”
Frowning, Light searched to see the face of the boy he’d just been so pleasantly flirting with and, outwardly, found him to appear relatively unbothered. He’d expected him to be angry, indignant, or even sad, but Ryuzaki only had his hands in his jean pockets and was yet again staring with wide eyes at some unknown fixed point as if no one were talking about him. 
“You’re going to have to be more specific about whatever offense Ryuzaki’s done. But whatever the case, I find it incredibly distasteful to round him up like you’re doing.”
“It’s alright, Light. Kinoshita is probably still just angry because I exposed a nasty little online scam of his, and attained information that could lose him the already crumbling favor of his father, and also the fact that he is nevertheless unable to cause me any significant harm,” Ryuzaki answered matter-of-factly without sparing a single glance at Kinoshita’s direction.
Everyone fell silent for a moment. 
Okay, that was… 
Extremely attractive. 
“You’re a lying little cunt!” Kinoshita snarled. 
“The naive teenagers being granted false scholarships would argue otherwise.”
“What? Hideo, you said–” Takada began. 
But the small elite group exploded in an argument about what Kinoshita had or hadn’t done, with the latter giving weaker and weaker arguments. Light was so engrossed in his rightful indignation and the opportunity to disgrace Kinoshita, that by the time he called for Ryuzaki’s own word in the matter the strange student had already left without saying a word.
×~°~×~°~×~°~×~°~×
“Ryuzaki!" 
The hunched figure paused in his lazy gait towards the beach boulevard, but the dark disheveled head didn’t turn around. Light was panting by the time he caught up to him and he could feel the beginning of a headache already forming. 
Night had already fallen and the breeze charged at them from within the sea. 
"You’re already going?" 
"I am indeed approximately 700 feet from the party." 
"Not what I was asking.” Light rolled his eyes. 
Ryuzaki turned around finally, all sharp angles and even darker eyes illuminated by the blue and purple artificial lights on the street. 
“Well, your question didn’t contain your true intentions either. You’re asking why I’m going. And I assume this means you’d like to talk more?" 
Fastidious asshole. 
L didn’t wait for Light to answer before taking his phone from his jean’s pocket and handing it to him with the contact app open. 
Light typed quickly and handed the phone back, which finally brought a blessed smile to Ryuzaki’s face.
"I’m looking forward to talking to you soon, Light Yagami. Oh and before I forget." 
Long, spidery fingers settled themselves in a careful hold below Light’s chin, and before he had time to process what was about to happen, soft lips gave a feathery kiss to his own, so quick it might have been fantasy if it weren’t for the ghost of a contact searing an imprint over Light’s heart. 
“I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you at the entrance ceremony.”
86 notes ¡ View notes
thebigoblin ¡ 3 years ago
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Sterek Fic Recs Part 3
[You can find the first two lists here: Fluffy Sterek Recs & Sterek Fic Recs. Also here's a special fic, check it out]
First off, thank you all for a 100 followers!! As of September 7, 2021 you've made me feel really, really good about my obsession with two oblivious idiots (with sprinkles of the hale pack and other fandoms), and this is my way of thanking you ♥️
If you're on PC, you can see that there is a page dedicated solely to fic recs, which caters to other ships & fandoms too. So don't feel left out if you're looking for something other than Sterek!
Without further ado, let's get to it then!
an awful curse
Isaac is asleep in a chair. The angle of his neck makes Derek wince in sympathy.
"Isaac," Derek says.
Isaac snaps awake immediately.
"You're-"
"Where's Stiles?"
"Stiles?" Isaac asks.
Jesus. It's not like they know more than one.
AU - Canon Divergence | 6.3k | By blinkiesays
Throw Away The Key
Stiles knew it was stupid to go to the hunters’ headquarters all by himself, so when he finds himself caught, he can really only blame himself.
It shouldn't surprise Stiles when the situation quickly goes from bad to worse as the hunters throw him to a feral werewolf waiting to tear him apart.
Sucks that it's Derek, though.
AU - Canon Divergence | 5.9k | By mommymuffin
Whatever Happened Last Night, Why Did Glitter Have to Be Involved?
Derek rolled out of bed in search of his phone - quickly finding it in the pair of jeans that had evidently been tossed aside haphazardly on the way to the bed. Seeing the pants sparked flashes of memories - wolfsbane-laced alcohol, loud music, multicolored lights.
Peter’s new supernatural-friendly club - the pack had gone to the opening night party.
He unlocked his phone and opened the pack group chat, which Erica had affectionately named ‘Moon Sluts’.
>>Derek: What the fuck happened last night
[or: Derek wakes up with three things on his mind: he feels like he was punched by a troll, his mate is missing, and there's glitter covering his bed. Oh, and the pack group chat is mildly helpful]
**
Prompt #159 - “Also, my bed has glitter in it for reasons I do not recall.”
Crack Vibes | 1.2k | By ash_mcj
Good to Eat
So if Stiles married Derek Hale, he could become Jewish too? Perfect. It was settled. Stiles gleefully shoveled a forkful of cheesy shells into his mouth.
"Uh oh. I know that look.” Claudia shook her head.
"Don’t worry, Mom, ” Stiles said, reaching for his plastic Batman cup.
"I’ve got a plan.”
"Good luck, Derek Hale,” his mother muttered.
Rude.
AU - Childhood Friends | 1.7k | By Jmeelee
Murder Brows and Avoidance Tactics
Derek gets the wrong end of the stick.
Written for prompt: "You're jealous, aren't you?"
AU - Everybody Lives | 2k | By Dragonink13
Double Vision (only registered users can read this one)
"So what caused my hearing and sense of smell to dull?"
Deaton's brow furrowed, all amusement vanishing from his face. "What do you mean?"
Derek snapped, letting loose all of his anger and fear at the man before him. "I mean I can't hear your heartbeat or the cars down below or the birds in the attic! I can't smell the flowers in Mrs. Everett's apartment, I can't smell the rotting burger in the fridge that Isaac left in there a month ago, I can't smell or hear anything like I normally can!" Deaton mouth was pressed into a thin line. "Can you explain that?!"
 Tumblr Prompt: Derek jealous of himself.
AU - Everyone Lives | 6.1k | By Novkat21
Kiss?
Derek likes kissing Stiles, honestly he does. Until he doesn't.
Fluff | 3.6k | By clotpolesonly
Oblivious Misadventures, and Other Such Tales
Going to college was exciting and new, a chance for new friends and a fresh start, and the best part was, there was a supernatural fraternity on campus, meaning Scott finally had the freedom to be himself.
Then he met the resident human who came with a stalker alpha. What was the point of a supernatural fraternity if he still had to pretend to be human. And seriously, did Stiles ever fall asleep somewhere normal?
--
(aka - Five TImes Scott Found Derek and Stiles Sleeping, and the One Time He Didn't)
AU, Supernatural is real but not known by everyone, Alive Hale Family | 11.2k | By Little Spoon
Call Me (ClichĂŠ)
When the sheriff's sister ends up in a wheelchair for the duration of summer, Stiles' dreams of three months full of pack bonding, late-night video games and bro-time with Scott come crashing down. He's temporarily relocated to Redford, a three hour drive away, and he can already tell he won't be getting many visitors.
Sure the pack will forget about him while he's gone, Stiles is determined to make the most of his summer of isolation, training his body and mind - and his magic - so he can come back with a bang, and maybe catch a certain Sourwolf's eye.
Then Derek shows up at his window one night with a flimsy excuse about needing research done. Suddenly, his summer away is looking a whole lot more interesting.
AU - Canon Divergence | 84.6k | By Orphan_Account aka the author has dissociated themselves from the fic
Shiver
Stiles has really, really cold hands. Luckily, Derek knows just what to do about that.
Established Relationship | 1.7k | By canistakahari
Derek Hale's Possible Heart
An anon sent me a sterek prompt for Laura teasing Derek and Stiles joining in, then somehow sharing their feelings for each other in the mess of things.
AU - Canon Divergence | 4.3k | By loserchildhotpants
What's a Secret Identity?
Stiles sipped at a mug of coffee, absently watching the news play in the break room. Because of course a news station couldn't play anything other than its own content, even in the one part of the office that was supposed to be a safe space from work. His interview with Superman was making a rerun and Stiles glanced at Derek before commenting absently, “I’d totally let Superman fuck me.”
Derek, who had been in the middle of a swig of coffee, choked violently, “That’s not something I needed to know at nine in the morning, Stiles.”
Stiles raised an eyebrow. “What time would you prefer I tell you about all of the things I would let Superman do to my body?”
AU, Derek is Superman | 7k | By Chrystie, imabignerd and kate882
i see that you've come so far [just like them old stars]
But her big brother’s unwillingness to touch anyone, like he thinks he doesn’t deserve it isn’t the only thing she notices. She also notices how Stiles doesn’t touch him.
Everyone reaches for Derek in some form or another, but Stiles- Stiles is something different altogether because he reaches for Derek but he never makes contact.
He’ll be trying to shimmy past Derek and instead of putting a hand on his arm like most of them do, he’ll reach out with a hand and stop it scant centimeters away from Derek’s skin.
Or they’ll be walking alongside each other and Stiles will hover a hand on Derek’s lower back.
It’s both fascinating and tragic to watch, like NASA lost control of one of their robots and instead of it landing on the moon it’s fated to gravitate around it.
AU - Canon Divergence | 2.3k | By crossroadswrite
DĂŠjĂ  Vu
There’s a shop in Beacon Hills that no one knows anything about except that the mysterious proprietor, a witch in whispered circles, knows what you need before you do and that the things given are always just what you need.
Derek, lost after a breakup, heads into the shop to see if he can find something to help him forget his ex. The witch gives him a potion to drink, and when Derek wakes up, he finds he’s sixteen again and there’s a new student at his school, Stiles Stilinski.
Everything is familiar and yet not, and Derek finds he’s strangely drawn to Stiles in a way that is entirely supernatural.
AU, Supernatural is Real | 8.8k | By gremlins-came-and-got-me and StaciNadia
Start Small, Like Oak Trees
The months following Allison's death have passed Stiles by in a haze of monotony. He sleepwalks through days that seem to lose their color, an unwilling passenger in a body he no longer trusts. Eventually, he thinks, he'll just fade away. He isn't sure anyone would notice. Then, during a spur of the moment grocery run, he stumbles upon Derek Hale attempting to console a lost child, and for the first time in recent memory the world doesn't seem so awful.
He's not sure what he'd been expecting when he eventually convinces Derek to move into the Stilinski's spare bedroom, but a newfound passion for weeding and topsoil certainly isn't it.
AU - Canon Divergence | 24.2k | By SmallBirds
Undercover K9
As it usually goes, Derek acts before he thinks. This time he has a good reason, though-it's all Stiles' fault. Mostly.
Or, that time when Derek volunteered to spend all his spare time as a wolf with the Beacon Hills Sheriff's Office K9 Unit, just to protect Stiles' dumb ass.
Future Fic | 17.9k | By Cobrilee
Rose Colored Glasses
“Obviou—um, what? Derek?” Stiles managed. “What? You’re not colorblind. You’re colorblind?”
“Yes.” Derek said gruffly. “And?”
“And? What do you mean and? You can’t see colors?” Stiles demanded, thrown. “Does it—what kind is it? Red-green? Blue-yellow? Why doesn’t—oh my god, is this why your entire freaking wardrobe was completely black until like two years ago? Oh my god!”
“There’s nothing wrong with having a favorite color, Stiles.”
Established Relationship | 2.2k | By SassyStarboard
1,460 Days (gotta clean my slate)
Two years after Scott becomes Alpha and Derek gives it up for Cora, Stiles gets hurt during a fight and ends up in a coma for two weeks. According to the nurse, a guy has been visiting him every day and, as much as he wishes it were Derek, it sounds a lot like Scott. Except he and Scott aren't even friends anymore.
AU - Canon Divergence | 10k | By army_of_angels
This is it for now. Happy reading y'all! ♥️
63 notes ¡ View notes
whosscruffylooking ¡ 4 years ago
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The Purest Things- Repeating History
Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader Word Count: 2k Warnings: Mentions of murder and alcohol. Canon typical violence. A/N: this takes place during season 3 episode 11, birthright. i had a lot of fun studying this episode and making it my own. i have changed certain dialogue and who says what for the sake of the story. please enjoy! The Purest Things Masterlist
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january 2008
Syd Moore said, “Disregard for the past will never do us any good. Without it we cannot know truly who we are.”
•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.
The team gathers around the conference room table as JJ introduces the next case. Her usual composure is absent, and it’sclear this one weighs heavily on her.
“Last night in Fredericksburg, a 20-year-old woman, Molly McCarthy, was abducted. She’s the third to go missing in the last six weeks. All of them disappeared from public places. No one has seen them since,” she begins, her voice tight.
“Until now,” Rossi adds grimly.
JJ presses on, “Two days ago, body parts with cigarette burns were recovered from a national park—former site of the Battle of Chancellorsville.”
You glance up at Hotch across the table, sensing the wheels turning in his mind. Something about this case feels familiar to you too, but the connection eludes you. His eyes meet yours, reflecting a similar train of thought. You shrug slightly, and he gives a barely perceptible shake of his head—nothing definitive yet.
“Were they able to make an ID?” Hotch asks.
JJ nods. “It was the first victim, taken six weeks ago. Decomposition suggests she’d been dead just over a week.”
Hotch leans back slightly, his focus sharpening. “So he’s keeping them alive for a while.”
The idea jogs something in your memory. You sift through fragments of cases, searching for the connection. Hotch slides a photo across the table toward you, almost testing your instincts. Examining it closely, the pieces finally fall into place.
“I remember reading about a case like this in Spotsylvania County,” you say. “The markings, the location, even the time of year—it all lines up.”
Hotch nods, picking up the thread. “If he spends that much time with them, it’s possible the two most recent victims are still alive.”
He gives you a subtle nod, a gesture of acknowledgment for your insight. Your mouth a quiet “thank you,” feeling a small wave of validation.
“Wait,” Emily interjects. “Are we saying this could be the same killer? That’s a long cooling-off period.”
“It’s rare, but it happens,” you reply. “BTK resurfaced after 25 years. Some killers go dormant for reasons we may never fully understand.”
“And the details from the Spotsylvania case were never released,” Rossi adds. “This would be a tough one to copycat.”
As the briefing concludes, you notice JJ lingering near the evidence board, her gaze distant. You approach her gently.“Hey, you okay?”
She blinks, snapping out of her thoughts. “Yeah. Just… something about this one feels off.”
You study her, recognizing the haunted expression. “This one hits a bit too close to home.” You’re both young, ambitious women—frighteningly similar to the abductees. The parallels aren’t lost on either of you.
JJ nods, her discomfort palpable. You squeeze her arm lightly. “We’ll get them justice.”
•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.
The ride to the crime scene is quiet. You watch the passing landscape, the trees blurring into shadows, but your attention keeps drifting to Hotch. His steady focus on the road contrasts with the tension radiating from his presence. There’s a gravity to him that draws you in, a depth you want to understand but can’t quite unravel.
When the car approaches the site, you snap out of your thoughts. Following Hotch, JJ, and Reid, you step through the field toward the taped-off area where the sheriff waits. As Spencer and Hotch begin discussing the unsub’s profile, you notice JJ turning away, her shoulders tense. The case is affecting her more than she’s letting on.
You glance at Hotch, subtly tilting your head toward JJ. He catches the gesture immediately and nods. “I’ll catch up. You and Reid go with the sheriff.”
Minutes later, Hotch and JJ rejoin the group. He lingers near the back and motions for you to step with him. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her,” he says quietly.
You offer a small smile. “Of course. I know what it’s like to feel overwhelmed. I’d want someone to notice if it were me.”
His tone softens slightly. “This job reminds us that we’re human. Cases like this tend to hit hardest when they reflect pieces of our own lives.”
You glance at him, hesitant but curious. “What cases make you feel most human?”
His expression darkens for a moment. “Any case involving kids,” he admits. “Since Jack was born, those are the ones I can’t shake.”
“It doesn’t show,” you say gently. “You seem… unshakable.”
He exhales quietly, almost a sigh. “Maybe I’ve just gotten too good at hiding it.”
You sense a deeper regret behind his words but decide not to push. You’ve heard whispers about his separation from Rossi, about how his work drove a wedge between him and Haley. It’s not your place to ask, but its weight lingers in the air.
“Let’s catch up with the others,” he says finally, steering the conversation back to the task at hand. But his earlier vulnerability stays with you, a rare glimpse into the man beneath the suit.
•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.
Your team gathers to try and connect the dots, the tension in the room mounting as time slips away.
“We’ve got another abduction,” JJ announces, rushing into the room.
The sheriff and JJ quickly outline the details of the latest victim. You jot down notes, comparing them to the other cases, the pieces just out of reach.
“We know he kills after taking another victim,” JJ says, her voice tight with urgency. “We’re running out of time.”
You glance toward Hotch, and his steady gaze is already fixed on you. “What do we know?” he asks, putting you in the spotlight.
You take a breath, focusing. “It’s a copycat,” you begin. “Same MO, same dumpsite.”
“But those details were never released to the press,” Rossi interjects a pointed reminder.
“Then he had to learn it from someone close—family or a friend,” you say, sitting up straighter as the realization dawns.
Hotch nods subtly, an unspoken acknowledgment that you’re on the right track. A flicker of heat rises to your cheeks under his steady approval.
“Mary and Robert Wilkinson had a son,” JJ says, flipping through files.
“I remember Charlie Wilkinson,” John Caufield, the former sheriff on the original case, chimes in. “When he was 15, he killed a neighbor’s cat.”
“How old is Charlie now?” Emily asks, her tone sharp.
“Mary was pregnant with him when Robert died,” Caufield recalls.
The room collectively stills as the implication hits. You and Hotch exchange a glance, the pieces snapping into place between you.
“That was 27 years ago,” Emily continues urgently. “That would make him about the same age Robert was when he started killing.”
Hotch’s expression hardens. “With me,” he orders, motioning for you to follow.
Hotch’s pace is brisk as you follow him out to the SUVs. The sun is high, casting a harsh light over the unfolding day. As you climb into the passenger seat beside him, he pulls a map from the dashboard, scanning it briefly before starting the engine.
“We’ve got another site to check,” he says, his tone clipped but steady. 
You nod, tightening your grip on your notebook as the car hums to life. The team’s urgency weighs heavily on you, but something is grounding about Hotch’s quiet determination.
The rhythmic motion of the road and the hum of the engine fill the silence, but it’s not awkward. You peek over at him, studying his keen focus as he navigates.
“You’re good at this,” he says suddenly, his voice cutting through the stillness. His tone is calm but carries the faintest trace of encouragement.
“Thank you,” you answer, momentarily caught off guard. “I still feel like I have a lot to learn.”
His eyes flick toward you briefly before returning to the road. “You’re already asking the right questions, seeing the connections. That’s what matters.”
The words settle over you, a slight spark of pride lifting the edge of your fatigue. You tuck them away, a reminder of why you’re here.
Hotch speaks again, his voice lower but just as stable. “Trust your instincts. They’re what got you this far.”
You nod, feeling the weight of the compliment and the responsibility it carries. The car slows as you approach the site.
Hotch cuts the engine and glances your way, his expression unreadable but somehow reassuring. “Let’s see what we’re working with.”
With a deep breath, you step out into the sunlight, squinting against the glare as the latest victim’s car looms in the parking lot like a grim omen. Your stomach tightens at the sight. JJ isn’t here, and for that, you’re grateful—she doesn’tneed to see this.
“How long has the car been here?” Hotch asks, his tone sharp and efficient.
“Owner said since last night,” the sheriff responds, clearly uneasy.
You scoff in disbelief, your anger bubbling to the surface. “How the hell did no one find that suspicious?”
The sheriff scratches the back of his neck, defensively. “He said he’s back and forth from the farm, didn’t pay much attention until he heard Tara was missing.”
Your jaw tightens as you glance at Hotch, whose stoic expression doesn’t mask the faint crease of concern between his brows. “Four girls are missing,” you say, your voice low but sharp, “and no one notices an abandoned car?”
Before Hotch can respond, your phone buzzes in your pocket. You fish it out and answer quickly. “This is Y/N.”
Reid’s voice filters through, calm but direct. “Do you think you and Hotch could check on Charlie Wilkinson? He didn’tshow up for work today.”
Your heart sinks. “He didn’t?”
“No,” Reid confirms. “I checked with his employer. They said it’s completely out of character.”
“Got it. Thanks, Reid,” you say, ending the call. Turning to Hotch, you relay the news. “Charlie Wilkinson never showed up for work today.”
Hotch nods, already moving toward the SUV. “Let’s see if he’s home.”
The drive to Charlie’s house is thick with unspoken tension. The weight of the case presses heavily on your shoulders, and your leg starts to bounce unconsciously. Hotch notices, his eyes flicking to you briefly before returning to the road.
“We’ll catch him,” he says, his voice low but firm as if willing the words into existence.
You let out a breath, shaky but steadying. “I know. It’s just…the idea of this man evolving into a carbon copy of his father—it’s terrifying. It’s like the instinct to kill was lying dormant in his DNA, waiting to surface.”
Hotch’s hands tighten slightly on the steering wheel. “We study and profile these unsubs every day. The truth of evil is rarely straightforward.”
“But you’d think,” you say, frustration creeping into your tone, “at some point, the cycle would end. If he knew all the terrible things his father did, wouldn’t he want to stop it? History shouldn’t have to repeat itself.”
Hotch glances at you, his expression softening just enough to be noticeable. “Don’t lose that perspective,” he says, his voice quieter now. “It’ll ground you in this line of work. The second we stop believing people are capable of change is the moment we lose our humanity.”
You nod, his words settling over you like a protective layer. Still, the tension doesn’t fully leave your chest. You glance out the window, watching as the rural landscape rushes past. Each mile closer to Charlie Wilkinson’s house feels like another step into a storm you’re not sure you are ready to face.
•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.
At Charlie Wilkinson’s house, you and Derek approach the door. It creaks open, revealing his wife, Chrissy Wilkinson, standing there with wide, nervous eyes. Your stomach drops when you notice her hand instinctively resting on her swollen belly—she’s pregnant. For a moment, you’re frozen, bile rising in your throat as the weight of this revelation sinks in. You swallow it down, steeling yourself. You’re here to do a job.
“Chrissy Wilkinson?” you begin, your voice steady despite the emotions churning inside. “I’m Agent Y/L/N, and this is Agent Morgan. We’re with the FBI. We’re looking for Charles Wilkinson.”
Chrissy’s expression shifts, confusion mingling with dread. “What’s this about?” she asks, her voice trembling slightly.
You exchange a glance with Derek before answering, your tone careful but firm. “We’re investigating the murders of some local women,” you say, watching as her face blanches.
“And you’re looking for Charlie?” she whispers, her free hand gripping the doorframe for support.
You nod, your heart aching as she steps aside, allowing you and the team to search the property.
Inside, Chrissy sits at the kitchen table, wringing her hands as you and Hotch stand across from her. His demeanor is firm, his posture straight, radiating authority.
“Charlie didn’t show up for work today,” Hotch says, his voice edged with an intimidating calm. “Do you have any idea where he might’ve gone?”
Chrissy shakes her head quickly, her lips pressed into a thin line. “No, I don’t know,” she stammers, her eyes darting around the room.
Hotch’s attention is drawn to JJ and Reid in the other room, and after a glance, he steps away to join them. Before leaving, he nods at you, signaling for you to continue the questioning.
You take a seat across from Chrissy, softening your tone. “Can I get you some water?” you ask, noticing how her hands tremble slightly.
She looks up at you, startled, but nods gratefully. “Yes, please.”
When you return with a glass, she manages a faint smile. “You’re a lot nicer than him,” she murmurs, taking a small sip.
You chuckle softly, tilting your head. “He’s been doing this job a lot longer than I have.”
Her smile fades, replaced by a shadow of worry. “Did the father of my child hurt those poor women?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper as her hand instinctively cradles her baby bump.
Your heart tightens. There’s no easy answer to that question, and you know she’s not looking for one. You choose silence, letting the unspoken truth settle in the room. Sometimes, silence says more than words ever could.
The sound of hurried footsteps breaks the moment. Hotch appears in the doorway, his expression unreadable but urgent.“The sheriff will stay here with Mrs. Wilkinson. We need you with us,” he says firmly.
Standing, you place your hand atop Chrissy’s trembling one, your voice low but steady. “History doesn’t have to repeat itself,” you tell her, meeting her eyes. You can see the storm of thoughts swirling in her mind, the whispers of inevitability that threaten to consume her. Your words are an anchor—a small reminder that there’s always another choice.
The forest feels endless as you race after Hotch, the cool air sharp against your skin. Leaves and twigs crackle underfoot with every hurried step.
“Hotch, this way!” you call, gesturing toward a narrow path leading deeper into the woods.
You push forward, branches whipping against your arms until a sudden gunshot pierces the air. The sound is deafening, freezing you in your tracks. Your gaze snaps to Hotch, who mirrors your shock for a split second before the two of you sprint toward the source of the shot.
Your heart pounds in sync with your frantic footsteps, each beat carrying you closer to the clearing. You have a sinking feeling, one born of your earlier conversation with Chrissy, and dread churns in your stomach.
Breaking through the trees, you skid to a stop at the top of a hill, the scene below confirming your worst fears.
Chrissy Wilkinson stands over her husband’s lifeless body, a gun clutched in her shaking hands. Her face is pale, streaked with tears, and her rounded belly heaves with each ragged breath.
Charlie’s body lies sprawled at her feet, a haunting echo of the violence he was raised with—a man trapped by the legacy of his father’s evil.
The team converges around you, but you can’t tear your eyes away from Chrissy. Her entire frame trembles as she stares down at her husband, her face etched with a mix of anguish and grim resolve. You take a cautious step forward, your voice calm and even.
“Chrissy put the gun down,” you say gently.
For a moment, she doesn’t move, her gaze fixed on Charlie. Then, with a shaky exhale, she lowers the weapon, her knees buckling as she sinks to the ground.
As you approach her, your earlier words echo in your mind: History doesn't have to repeat itself. But looking at her now, you realize how heavy the weight of breaking that cycle truly is. Just as Charlie's mother killed his father decades ago, so now Chrissy has killed Charlie. The brutal symmetry of it all tightens a knot in your chest, a grim reminder thatsometimes, the echoes of the past are impossible to silence.
The newly widowed woman claims self-defense, yet the cops handcuff her anyway. You watch as she’s guided into the back of the squad car, her face streaked with tears. Inside, you feel conflicted, the weight of the case pressing against your chest.
Hotch appears at your side, his presence steady but quiet. You bite your lip, trying to keep it from quivering, though the day’s events have taken their toll.
“What did you say to her as you were leaving the dining room?” Hotch asks, his voice low.
“I told her that history doesn’t have to repeat itself,” you admit softly. “That even when it feels like you’re backed into a corner, there’s always another way out. But… sometimes people don’t know where to look for that way out.”
Hotch studies you for a moment, then lightly touches your arm. It’s brief but enough to ground you.
“You did everything you could,” he says. “We’ll never do this job perfectly. Sometimes doing the right thing costs more than it pays.”
You shake your head slightly. “And what if that’s not enough?”
Hotch’s gaze sharpens. “If you can leave a case knowing you made the best choice you could with what you had, it’senough. Anything else will tear you apart over time.”
You glance back at the squad car as it disappears down the road. “What if the only way she saw out was this?”
Hotch exhales, his jaw tightening. “I wish I could make this easier for you. I wish I could tell you that this case won'thaunt you. Just know that if it becomes too heavy, you have people in your corner, ready to listen.”
The words are meant to reassure you, but the weight of the day lingers between you both. He turns slightly, his hand brushing yours as though he wants to say more, but he stops himself. Instead, he walks back toward the sheriff, leaving you to wrestle with the truth he’s laid out.
•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.
After what feels like an endless day, you and the team finally arrive back at Quantico.
“I could go for a drink, guys. What do you say? Newbie’s buying,” you tease, waving your wallet around frivolously.
“I could go for five drinks!” Prentiss exclaims, eyes lighting up.
“Count me in,” Morgan grins, winking at you. His charm never fails to make you blush.
Reid hesitates, and you give him your best pleading look, sticking out your bottom lip. “Please, Reid! How could you not want a repeat of Dolly Parton night last month?”
Hotch, who’s just come down the stairs, raises an eyebrow. “Dolly Parton night? Do I want to know?”
You and Derek snicker, sharing a look as Reid squirms in place, trying to diffuse his embarrassment.
“‘9 to 5’ is an iconic anthem. It has a rather bewitching effect on a man when mixed with alcohol,” Reid says, adjusting his glasses.
“You only drank Diet Coke that night,” you roll your eyes, smirking.
From the corner of your eye, you notice Hotch forcing his way through the small group gathered near the desks. You take a breath and make your way over to him.
“Want a beer?” you ask, second-guessing yourself as soon as the words leave your mouth.
For a split second, Hotch’s stern expression softens, and he turns to look at you. “I would like that,” he replies quietly.
He turns back to his original path, heading toward the glass doors, and you follow, joined by Dave and Emily.
Just as you’re about to walk out the door with him, a man barges through the glass doors, holding a yellow package in his hands.
“Agent Hotchner?”
“Yes,” Hotch replies, his tone sharp but tired, as though bracing himself.
The man holds a yellow envelope, the sight of which churns your stomach into knots. You bite down hard on your lip, the metallic taste grounding you as dread washes over you.
“What is it?” Emily asks cautiously.
But you already know. That package is far too familiar.
Hotch’s gaze lingers on the envelope for a long moment, tracing the corners with a disbelief that is almost painful to witness. When he finally speaks, his voice is hollow. “Haley’s filing for divorce. I’ve been served.”
His words hang in the air like a weight, heavy and inescapable. You swallow hard, glancing at the envelope, then back at Hotch. His eyes lift to meet yours, and the breath catches in your throat.
His eyes—usually so guarded, so composed—are now raw and exposed, filled with a vulnerability you’ve never seen before. Gone is the unshakeable Unit Chief. What’s left is a man barely holding himself together, drowning in quiet agony.
You want nothing more than to close the distance between you, to offer comfort in a way words never could. For a moment, you hope he can see, the depth of your care written in your expression. You don’t say a word, but sometimes silence carries a weight all its own.
Eventually, he breaks eye contact, releasing a shaky breath. Dave steps closer, his hand gently resting on your arm, sensing the weight of the moment. His touch offers quiet support, silently acknowledging the bond between you and Hotch.
“I’m sorry,” Hotch finally says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t think I can join you tonight.”
Without another word, he turns and wanders out through the glass doors, leaving the rest of you standing in stunned silence.
You watch him go, your chest aching with unspoken emotion.
Maybe history does have a way of repeating itself.
•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.
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twinklelilstarkey ¡ 4 years ago
Note
hi! I saw you do something with rafe dating a dancer and I was wondering if you could do something similar with Rafe dating a singer??? :)
A/N: Of course, I can! It took me a little to have an idea on how to do this, but it’s here. I decided to make her a Pogue to spice things up, hope you enjoy it! 
Singer - Rafe Cameron [HC]
Words: 1k+
Type: Fluff
Warnings: Swearing. Mentions of alcohol? DO NOT REPOST, REWRITE OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORK!
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I feel like you two would first see each other at a very random place;
Maybe you would be at a friend’s family’s bar, when closed, getting ready for the night, practicing a few songs, having as an audience, your friends and some workers; 
And Rafe would see you there when trying to make an order of alcohol for Rose’s future party;
The bar would have workers cleaning everything before opening for service, and you would be in the corner, guitar over your legs while lost on your phone;
You two didn’t really know each other, since he goes to the Kook Academy and you go to the Pogue’s high school;
But everyone knows who Rafe is;
You would let go of your phone after some thinking and start practicing a song that you had for the night;
Rafe would be waiting for your friend’s dad to come back with all the papers he has to sign when you finally would start singing;
He wouldn’t be the only one staring at you as you sang;
Everyone would literally be listening to you while discreetly vibing or just, straight up, stopping what they’re doing to stare; 
Rafe would be awaken from being hypnotized by your voice, when the man he had just talked to would come back with the papers about the order;
“What’s her name?” He would ask the man in front of him;
Your friend’s dad literally ranted about you to Rafe right there and then;
He told you your name and where you studied, (which did disappoint the Kook prince) as well as, what nights do you usually play at the bar, or anywhere really;
Oh oh, homeboy would stalk your Instagram right there;
You wouldn’t even realize that Rafe was in the bar the whole time;
But after that day, you did not leave Rafe’s mind, AT ALL;
He did think about coming by the bar more than one time, but the feeling of being out of place, since the bar is right at the center of the Cut, was too much for him;
So no, he would never make a move that bold, until...
He came to meet Topper and Kelce at a breakfast place and saw you sitting with a friend at the corner of the room;
He would be shocked to see you, at first, but he did do his move;
He stayed with Topper and Kelce for some time, but when your friend would get up to go to the bathroom... He’s right out of his seat;
Even Topper and Kelce would get scared from seeing him get up so quickly;
And when he took a seat in front of you, they stared at him like he had 3 heads;
You would be mindlessly scribbling on a notebook when he would sit down;
And when you saw him, you almost chocked on your drink on that second;
You started questioning yourself if you had ever accidentally crossed to Figure Eight or done something you shouldn’t have, but Rafe calmed you down a bit by saying a cute lil...
“Hey”
As confused as you would be, you did start a conversation with the kook prince while your friend was absent;
“You have an amazing voice”
Your chin almost hit the floor right there and then;
You would question him how and where has he ever heard you sing, and you were even more shocked with the fact that he had been in a bar where Pogues usually hang out;
Your friend would be hysterical when she would come back and see the two of you talking;
Rafe would leave and follow you on Instagram right on that day;
You were already following him, but let’s ignore that;
It would take a few weeks until you two would talk again;
But when you did it was at a party;
And yes, you were a total traitor to the Pogues, crossing the line between tribes to hang out with the rich kids;
You would not regret doing it, though;
You had a lot of fun with Rafe;
Especially when you two were drunk enough to just randomly kiss each other;
For the rest of that week, you, as sad as this sounds, felt like a total winner;
It’s not everyday that this type of stuff happens, especially to Pogues;
And for the rest of that week, Rafe never left your mind, and nor did you leave his;
It was like a curse, whatever you two did, it was like it is impossible to ever forget the night of the party;
Topper and Kelce were on Rafe’s ass every god damn second of those days, always making fun of him when he would space out or just stare at Instagram like a stalker;
“You’re a pogues boy, now, uh?”
“You are sooo whipped”
He does not give a fuck that you’re a Pogue anymore, he just really wants to see you again;
So he did;
Rafe Cameron decided to ditch his friends’ party and drove to the bar;
As told by the worker the other day, you were singing for the rest of the night;
He would try and be invisible, sitting at a darker side of the bar but your friends have eyes of complete falcons;
And as soon as you would be out of the stage to change places with another local musician, they snitched about his whereabouts;
You gathered all the mental strength you could and walked to him;
He would just smile when seeing you walk his way;
You would sit beside him and start a conversation;
Your friends would almost have a heart attack on their seats while watching you two talk and smile at each other;
And that is on the night that Rafe Cameron asks you out;
It was the fastest ‘yes’ you’ve ever said in your life;
And, here’s the part that shocked your friends the most, since it’s a Friday and you weren’t going to sing anymore...
“What about we go out now?”
You two were out of that door in a space of 2 minutes;
And your first date started;
One of the best nights you two ever experienced;
You didn’t even need a third date;
Yes, you read that right;
You two started dating after your second date, and as sudden as that sounds, it was one of the best decisions you two ever did;
The looks the both of you received in your different schools were consistent, and you couldn’t give less of a fuck;
You two are happy and that’s what matters.
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starcrossedkaiju ¡ 3 years ago
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Kingslayer AU: Chapter Six
Finally. Onto the newer chapters. These’ll have a lot more character development and bonding. I wrote this about two days ago. So it’s hot off the presses.
I’m actually kinda proud of this one. Also I’m trying to make these shorter because I don’t wanna be writing a single chapter for three days straight anymore; it was burning me the hell out.
Tango readjusted his scarf, throwing the end of it behind him. It hit Scott in the face on the way down.
“Watch it,” Scott smacked the man in front of him on the shoulder.
“You’re annoying,” Tango replied from in front of him.
“Guys,” Impulse scolded.
They were approaching the end of the tree line, which would lead them right to the gates of Dogwarts. Scott had been looking at his feet for most of the journey, which is why he ran into Tango when he stopped suddenly.
Tango turned around and pushed him away, “Watch it,” he said with sarcasm.
The group chose to stop just inside the trees. Impulse drew a cloth from his pocket and wrapped it over Scott’s eyes. If he was the one making the plan he wouldn’t have himself as a kidnapping victim, it was a bit on the nose. Tango said it was just for looks.
Scott’s weapons were taken and stashed in Impulse’s Ender Chest, as well as his pager.
Scott sighed, “I still don’t understand why we can’t just get in there and…” he made a stabbing gesture to the air.
Impulse made a sarcastic attempt at looking shocked, “okay, first off, there’s six of them and three of us,” he pointed out.
“Second, that would be impulsive and stupid. They would all come back and hunt us for sport,” he said.
“Says you,” Scott said in the wrong direction, because he was blindfolded. Impulse rolled his eyes at the jape.
“Okay, you ready?” Tango put a hand on Scott’s shoulder. Eager to get a move on.
“As ever,” Scott replied. Then he was lifted off his feet by his accomplices, both of which were taller than him. A hand under each arm.
The trio left the trees and trudged up the mountain towards Dogwarts. Scott went over his life choices in his head while Tango and Impulse quietly argued over not dropping him.
Apparently someone was waiting for them, because Tango began exchanging words with a person standing in front of the gates. It was Etho, no doubt. They discussed the elephant in the room, Scott stuck to the plan and said nothing. Even when Etho asked him how it felt.
He did flip him the bird though.
When Scott was re-introduced to the ground he was on a set of wooden steps. Tango had gone inside, presumably to alert the boss of the situation. Impulse kept a firm grip on Scott’s forearm.
“You know what to do right?” Impulse asked.
Scott nodded. Hoping his acting skills weren’t too rough around the edges.
The door clicked open and a pair of hands dragged him into the main base, pushed him down in a chair, and pulled his blindfold off.
Across from Scott, standing over the opened book on the enchantment table was the Red King. A shiny new pair of sunglasses rested on his face, on top of a purple-tinted nose, and his arm was in a sling. The sight almost brought a smile to Scott’s face.
Ren clapped the book shut and stood to assess his guest.
“Well, what a pleasant surprise,” he greeted without a smile.
Tango put a hand on Scott’s back, “I think you’d be pleased to know he came to us,” he said.
An eyebrow raised from under Ren’s sunglasses. He reached out and pulled a chair from a table near the wall, positioning it in front of Scott.
Ren sighed and sat down, crossing his legs, “is that so?” he asked. Scott started getting uncomfortable.
Impulse made to speak up but was silenced by a hand.
“Let the man speak for himself,” Ren ordered, “come on now dude. Don’t tell me you’ve lost your voice,” he teased.
Scott cleared his throat, “I came to them. Yes,” he confirmed.
“Why,” Ren asked sternly.
Scott did his best not to squirm.
“I changed my mind,” he said, “I want except your offer. To join the Red Army,” Scott explained.
Ren laughed out loud. He threw his head back and leaned backwards. Scott bit the inside of his lip and looked away. Tango shifted on his feet.
“Really?” Ren asked, he was almost crying.
“Ren…” Impulse attempted to calm the king down but was silenced.
“No, no, by all means I want to hear what Major has to say,” Ren said with encouragement.
Scott grimaced, “Although I do not agree that kidnapping me was the best way to go about gaining my interest,” he started.
“Well it certainly gained some interest,” Ren said under his breath.
“I was already considering leaving my agreement with the Red Desert; and do not get me wrong I don’t appreciate anything you and your men have put me or my husband through,” Scott raised his voice. Assertiveness taking over, he stood up.
“I can see an opportunity when it holds an axe above my head,” Scott crossed his arms.
“I am willing to come to an agreement with you. I will join your army, I will act as a double agent, I will act under your orders, on one condition,” he held up a finger.
Ren slowly stood to meet his gaze, although he was a lot taller.
“Jimmy will not be involved,” Scott said explicitly.
The Red King turned away and went back to the enchantment table, he gazed into the book absently. Then tossed it back on the table.
“You’re on thin Ice Major,” Ren concluded and quickly left.
Scott expected a handshake at least.
“I’d say that went pretty well,” Tango said after the door slammed.
“He agreed?” Scott asked.
“Well he didn’t reject. So I’d say you’re hired,” Impulse provided.
“He thinks you’re a valuable asset. I don’t think he could afford to refuse your offer,” Tango leaned down and reassured.
Scott slouched down in the chair and rubbed his eyes. This was a bad idea.
His first orders came two days later. He was put in charge of the “chores”. Which essentially meant he was doing everything nobody else wanted to do.
Tango assured him that the Red Army was just sizing him up to see if he was actually serious. It was precaution, considering Scott had sort of blindsided them by joining forces. Nobody would look him in the eyes unless they were ordering him around. He knew he wasn’t meant to feel welcome there.
“They’ll come around, although I’m not sure why it bothers you,” he said.
“It’s just awkward,” Scott excused, “they act like I’m gonna pull a knife on them whenever there’s only two of us on the room,” he said.
“Well, after you showed them the door two weeks ago they’ve been a bit jumpy,” Tango replied.
Being the supply runner meant the sacrifice of his sleep schedule, except for his three “off days”. In order to operate effectively he had to do most of his chores at night when his husband was sleeping; and thank god he did that most of the time.
Most of the time.
The other times Scott packed a bag full of iron or wood and said he was running errands under the guise of not being able to sleep. It didn’t feel good to lie, but as far as Jimmy was concerned Scott only left the house on the nights they were both awake.
At the next meeting Scott complained to Tango over a bottle of mystery alcohol, “I may as well be an indentured servant,” he poured himself another glass.
“You know, Scott, you’re actually doing something pretty important,” Tango said from where he was lounging on a pile of pillows.
“Indentured servant,” Scott repeated.
“You’re the one in charge of all their resources. I mean they even have you doing farm work right? So you know like, everything about them,” Tango pointed out.
Scott put his head down on the table, “to the last stack of paper,” he deadpanned.
Tango sighed, he got up and pat his teammate on the back.
“At least you’re not on Nether duty,” he said.
“I’m leading a double life! I’m lying to my husband, I’m lying to my friends, I’m lying to the whole Red Army! Who am I?,” Scott shouted; and he meant it more than he’d like to under the alcohol.
“Okay, that’s deeper than I wanna go,” Tango replied. He sat back down and chugged the last of his drink.
“I mean I’m just sitting here, letting other people write my life for me!” Scott continued.
“Okay calm down,” Tango said.
“No! I won’t. You have no idea what I’ve been through,” Scott stood up, his chair slammed on the ground.
Tango shot to his feet, “then enlighten me, Scott. Enlighten me on how hard your life has been while you ignored the rest of the server,” he yelled.
“While you sat back and did nothing, watching the world fall apart around you?” he provided.
“You don’t know me,” Scott said with disgust.
“And who does, Scott?” Tango replied.
The other couldn’t answer, because Tango was right. Scott nodded curtly, picked up his drink, and left the room.
He finished his drink on the way out and threw the glass against the rock face next to the abandoned cow farm.
The shards exploded and scattered in the snow.
Impulse found him sitting on a bolder an hour later, sharpening a stick with a rock.
“I heard you had a disagreement,” he said without warning.
Scott turned around, then resumed his sulking.
“We had an argument, you may as well call it what it is,” he replied.
“Hm,” Impulse responded.
“He insulted me,” Scott complained.
“Does “insulted” mean he said something true that you don’t like?” Impulse asked.
Scott didn’t respond.
Impulse leaned on the side of the bolder and looked into the distance, thinking about his next sentences. Chips of wood fell near his feet.
“You know it would be a lot easier if you two could just get along,” he said.
“Okay dad,” Scott deadpanned.
“Don’t start with me now. I’m trying to help you,” Impulse cautioned.
“Sorry,” Scott apologized. He felt worse when he insulted Impulse than when he insulted Tango.
“I know he’s a bit of a handful, but so are you. I want to make this as easy as possible, and I know you’re not looking to make friends right now, but I think you would feel better-“ Impulse started, Scott rolled his eyes and scoffed.
“You would feel better if you just,” he gestured with his hands between himself and Scott, “let us in,” Impulse finished a bit dejected.
Scott stopped sharpening his dwindling stick. He sighed and dropped it in his lap, putting his head on his knees.
“Who else can it be Scott? Don’t shut down on us like this,” Impulse begged.
“Leave me alone,” Scott said without hesitation.
Impulse lingered next to him, then pat his hand on the rock and nodded. He walked away.
Scott raised his head and watched him until his head disappeared under the hill.
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real-fanta-sea ¡ 3 years ago
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Prompt for the kiss no. 71
Prompt: "Not to be cringe or anything, but I really like the idea of the kiss 71 (height difference kisses where one person has to bend down, and the other is on their tippy-toes)...where Trevor is his true height. i.e. Ogg's height and Michael has to stand on his tiptoes to snog him."
I'm sorry, anon, but I saved the post as a draft and it just vanished into thin connection. So, I have to answer this way.
This work is more of a spur of the moment thing, but I kinda like the way it turned out, being it just my emotions spilt onto paper. If you'd like, you can read it on AO3 here, or under read more. I hope you'll like it as much as I enjoyed writing it! :)
tw: kissing, child abuse memories
It's been three weeks already.
An unhealthy greenish glow of flickering light tubes and the icy breath of an industrial refrigerator made him shiver as Michael, gliding on the orbit touching stars in his mind, put yet another box of ready-made microwave hamburgers into his shopping cart. If he were not a regular in this particular shop, he would have got lost. It resembled an anthill with seemingly infinite shelves and aisles, bursting with the merchandise, even though the depressed lights covered everything in the same shade of decay green. The same life outlook was shared with most of the shadows roaming around whose name tags qualified them as proud employees of Flormart.
It's been three weeks, and he still stuck around, hanging on his every word.
Michael pushed his cart further from frozen goods, and the pictures swirling and smearing all around transitioned from photoshopped vegetables to flashy fireworks of chips and other guilty pleasures he planned on indulging in later on. Some people would find the height of the shelves menacing, but to Michael, it was just a memory that pulled him from the orbit back to earth and placed him in the middle of a football pitch. The smell of sweat building up underneath his helmet. The crunch of the crisp lawn under his feet. The spotlight following him whenever he scored. Cheering faceless crowds in time with busty faceless girls' pompoms. But most of all, he felt happy again - needed, cherished, innocent, and with a bright future awaiting his embrace. But then, just as he crossed from the snacks aisle to the alcohol quarter, the football stadium lights flickered and turned bright red. All the faceless girls turned around, their mouths gaping as if someone dislocated their jaws, and the cheering turned into a hellish cry of pain. Where their eyes were supposed to be, he saw a flair, screwing itself deeper into their skull, and a stream of scarlet goo drip down on their immaculate white dresses.
It's been three weeks, and somehow, his puppy-like behaviour didn't irk him yet. Quite the opposite if he were honest with himself - he felt strangely peaceful in his company.
Michael gulped in a desperate attempt to wash down the horror that invited itself under cover of a happy memory. Shaking his head only did so much and dispersed the spectators and cheerleaders alike, in the same way shaking a snowy paperweight would. Michael's chest constricted as he felt unable to breathe in properly, people splatting and exploding upon impact all around him in his mind. Suddenly, he felt a pull under both of his shoulders and found himself flying towards the pitch-black sky, where instead of one moon, two shone down on him. As he flew closer, they shrunk into two amber irises - and Michael immediately knew who pulled him out of the memory. As he crashed into a mass of pink candy cotton clouds, his vision blurred just to clear up when he felt a solid surface under his feet and someones hot hands in his. Somehow, he found himself looking at the tips of abused old pair of sneakers he was wearing, the same pair Michael knew he wore that faithful day at the airstrip. A moment later, a couple of dark blue, equally run-down ones stepped into his field of vision. He slowly let his sight slide up on crumpled jeans, the hem of a military jacket, a pair of dog tags hanging around a slender neck, a sharp jaw, a pair of full dark lips and finally, to the pair of amber eyes, eyes that radiated worry, care and, at the same time, something he could only read as love and utmost devotion.
It's been three weeks since the incident, and anytime he woke up from a nightmare that played in his mind over and over again, he was there to soothe him; he was there waiting for Michael's tears to dampen his naked shoulder. He didn't bitch about it and didn't tell a soul in the morning.
Michael let out a shaky breath. Stopping his feet from casually continuing in their stroll proved harder than he thought, and he leaned on the shopping cart handle, running fingers through his hair. He couldn't decide what mortified him more - the creativity his brain proved to possess when playing out the horrible things he has witnessed in just a few years of his fresh adulthood, or the way it put his acquaintance on some fucking pedestal and presented him as the alpha and omega of his thoughts and desires.
"Hey Michael, are you ok?"
Speaking of the devil... "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I just.." Michael breathed in again and turned towards the source of the voice, trying to display a small smile by twitching his tired lips "I need a smoke, that's all."
It's been three weeks, and he got that tingling feeling in his guts already. He could barely tolerate touch or prolonged eye contact without getting goosebumps and that ticklish feeling solidifying and slicing right into his groin. Michael wanted to believe it was just his weird head showing gratitude for saving his ass, but anytime he found himself in the company of that amber-eyed twink, the longing grew worse.
"Hey, how about a bottle of something to wash the cig down?" said the guy and his oversized jeans jacket hanging from his shoulders cringed into weird shapes as he took one of his hands out of his pocket and pointed his thumb towards the shelves. He looked so adorably dishevelled in all jeans, and with his silky hair framing his hopeful face, Michael couldn't have said no to anything he would suggest. Instead of mustering the strength to say no, Michael threw another smile towards his companion and turned his back to him to choose the dream crusher he wanted to numb them with before they went to bed.
To someone who grew up in a functional family, all the labels and bottle shapes would seem the same. To Michael, however, to choose the right brand and size meant the same as selecting the bananas or avocados of the proper ripeness would for them. It was a work of art; he learned so much in the ten years of living with his stepfather. While scrutinizing the shelves, index finger and thumb scrubbing on the sides of his chin absent-mindedly, he remembered how they would come to the similar shop together, he and his mother's second husband, and how he slipped behind the shelves. At the same time, Frank chatted with the clerk, and he stuffed his lunch box with a large flat bottle of Chief's Heritage Fire Water whiskey. He had to carefully close it to avoid disturbing the aluminium foil that served as a guard from the primitive electronic protection device they had to pass through on their way out. Michael would then tuck his stepfather's sleeve, babble some cute nonsense to get candy from the unsuspicious clerk, and after they paid for the two packs of cigarettes and a beer, they would leave. Frank would let him chug on whiskey then, and if he were in an exceptionally good mood, he would let him sleep through the night without beating the shit out of him.
Finally, spotting the whiskey he knew so well on one of the top shelves, Michael attempted to grasp it but only managed to graze his fingertips against the bottom of one of the bottles that rocked gently upon touch but otherwise didn't move an inch. "Fuck", he uttered under his breath, cracked his neck and stretched onto the tips of his toes, steadying himself by holding onto one of the lower shelves. But, again, he could only touch the bottle but not get a good hold of it. He even contemplated climbing the shelves to get it, as if the shame of his disappointing height haven't already painted his cheeks bright red and didn't make him want to leave the shop right away. Just as he braced himself for the climb, eyes fixed on that damn bottle, a gentle touch of someone's hand squeezing his shoulder made him turn around. It was Trevor's hand, and even though Michael still had to look up to meet his eyes, the small sympathetic smile put him in ease in a blink of an eye.
"Chief's, huh? Good choice, Mike!" the praise in his voice made Michael shiver, and he desperately tried to ignore the warmth he was receiving through the palm still steady on his shoulder and which upset his heart into beating twice as fast as ever before. "My old man used to drink this. It tastes like cat piss but knocks you out good for the buck." Trevor's grin felt like a warm touch sunrise after countless years of freezing darkness. Michael couldn't help but soak in the warmth, allowing himself to lose himself in the feeling completely. "Let me get it for you, eh?" he heard Trevor say from somewhere near, and before he could object, most of the light was obstructed by a jeans-clad chest.
It was then when Michael closed his eyes and tried to get hold of the situation. Trevor, the guy he only knew for three weeks, pushing Michael's back onto the shelves as he leaned for the bottle but also pushing his chest almost to Michael's. If it weren't for a couple of inches of hot air and fabric between them, their bodies would brush against each other. Michael could only gulp when he opened his eyes again, and his mind provided him with the maddening picture of Trevor's naked lean chest, peppered with dark brown hair as if puberty marked its way down towards his groin with it. Michael's head was spinning when he looked up to see Trevor still busy fetching the bottle. Michael's racing imagination saw him grabbing the guy's head, crashing lips with his and dissolving into what he thought would be the best kiss he would ever receive. Michael gulped again. He had to have him.
He was anxious about the way it was too easy to raise both his hands and grab fists full of other man's jacket as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Michael didn't fight it when he felt his muscles pull on the fabric and only turned his gaze up to where he expected Trevor's eyes to look once he would feel the movement of his clothes. Michael didn't have to wait for it at all, actually; the puzzled expression was already waiting for him to drink it up. However, he couldn't maintain the contact for too long as his eyes focused on something completely different; the dark lips, deliciously parted in the unspoken question. The distance between his own and them unnerved him, and in the sparking silence, Michael again propped himself onto the tips of his toes, pressed harder on the fabric to steady himself and, closing eyes, pressed his lips to Trevor's.
For a delicious moment, the world fell apart as if some invisible force made the dimensions crash down. The trembling soft firmness against his lips sent shivers down his spine with each cautious move. Whenever Michael recalled the moment years later, he could always sense the faint smell of cigarettes, petrol and sun mixing between their bodies and the way the ground shook and cried under his feet when he felt Trevor's palms slide down his sides and pull him closer, effectively sweeping him off his feet.
Trevor seemed to be relishing at the moment as much as Michael was, but when he felt solid ground under his feet again, and the pair of arms letting go of him, Michael reluctantly broke the kiss with a coquettish wet pop and tried to catch his lost breath. Then, leaning against the shelves again, he only dared to peek up when his cheeks stopped burning from what felt like a mixture of acid and a marathon run. Trevor's face might as well have been a mirror, for he looked down on Michael with eyes wide, face red and lips wet and trembling as if he didn't get a grasp of reality yet. Michael couldn't help but let the anxiety scream right to his face in the voice of his stepfather - and there were thousands of things he might have ruined then and there, just because he didn't fight his stupid queer side, because he let himself kiss another man, because by the twisted chain of mistakes he fell from what could have been a good life to longing after a rabid smuggler in the middle of a liquor aisle.
Just as he was about to duck under Trevor's arm and run away from the voice and feelings of shame it brought about, he was stopped by a gentle, almost shy touch of a hot palm on his cheek. The slender fingers brushed against his face in such a delicate way Michael's heart skipped a beat, and closing his eyes, he leaned into the touch, seeking the soothing silence it brought with the warmth. The hand fit his cheek like a glove, Michael mused as he relaxed into slow movements of fingertips on his temples. Right there, at that moment, everything felt so right, so natural. Why has he deprived himself of the delicious heat for three weeks when somewhere deep inside, where the beating of his heart always gave away the truth, he knew he needed it from the start - well, Michael didn't know. Instead, he slid his arms around Trevor's waist and buried his face into his chest.
"Michael?"
The vibrating echo of his name, spoken in such a husky yet caring way, made Michael squeeze his arms around Trevor even tighter. He sought the last bits and pieces of it before he dared to speak up himself, afraid of spoiling the delicious contentment of the moment.
"Let's get out of here."
A gentle kiss on top of his head and long arms lacing his shoulders later, Michael found himself too far from Trevor for comfort. But even with the newly gained distance between them, a quick glance sideways has provided him with a sight of a beaming smile and a fire deep inside Trevor's eyes that made his own lips twitch into a happy upwards bow. As they rolled into the checkout, Michael has noticed the world has changed as well. The depressing shade of green has somehow transitioned into a welcoming warm white; the shadows that they passed by on their way in suddenly bloomed into happy faces. The various packings of goods exploded in all the colours of the rainbow. As Michael and Trevor emerged into the darkness of the parking lot, ready to relive their revelation in thousands of ways, Michael has felt at peace with himself for the first time in forever. The days of the inner night were over.
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wowtobio ¡ 5 years ago
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pls feed me with ur incredible writing. Iwa angst bc I haven't cried in a while lol.
Cheater! Iwaizumi x reader (angst)
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a/n: haha this made me laugh, ur too kind my writing is not that good so i cannot guarantee tears
It’s been awhile since I wrote my guy iwa and angst, hopefully this doesn’t turn out too bad eheh this is also sort of like an 800 followers special. Thank you all so much for following and reading my works, i cannot express it any other way :)
warning: angst, cursing, slight mentions
Part 1 | Part 2
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You expected this to happen, as hard as it is to swallow the bitter truth that threatened to burn down your whole marriage. This man, what happened? The time he would sacrifice in order to spend just some time with you, only now consumed by his company forcing him to work overtime presumably. The words he spoke to you, full of meaning were now void of emotion and as cold and sharp as icicles hanging from the rooftop edge during winter nights. The love and adoration his eyes used to hold catered only for you.
Where did it go?  
Suddenly, the golden band adorned with emerald jewels did not shine as brightly as it used too. Though you kept yours on, it seems his own band was often absent. But you bit your lip, afraid to voice out queries that could end up in another pointless argument. 
The door shut hard, yet you do not jump from your seat like you used too. Keeping your blank eyes forward staring at the static of the television. No words, no welcomes were heard. 
The calming night breeze coming from an open window only served to add more coldness in the living room.
Recently, all the nagging you did would not serve you both justice. You were only worried for your husband, why did it seem like all he did was yell at you? A simple question concerning what was for dinner would always end up in heated words. 
“You can eat alone.” 
“But, I just wanted to eat dinner with you, I waited so lo-”
“And why should I care? Just leave me be I’m too tired to deal with you right now.”
But, you always seem like you don’t want to deal with me..
Soon, it all ceased to exist. Any conversation or fight in this matter, it all scurried away as fear of more spiteful words would dig deep into your chest and sting greatly. 
But tonight was different, you just missed him so much.
Standing slowly, you trudge behind him wordlessly wrapping your arms around his torso and burying your face into his broad back. He stands frozen, you wish you could see his facial expression. Iwaizumi’s gaze is casted down at the arms enveloping him.
You guessed your arms were pretty skinny now, when was the last time you even had a proper meal? 
You tried to ignore the feminine, floral fragrance that lingered on his button up, a scent you know for sure you did not use. 
Minutes passed, what felt like hours. After Iwaizumi snapped out of his state, he easily shrugged you off and continued to your once shared bedroom. And all you could do was hold out your now empty arms and stare at his receding form.
No tears shed, you ran out of them awhile ago. However, that familiar aching pain still stirred deep within your gut.
Another night on the couch it seems.
When was the last time you were happy? Your friends voice concern for your well-being, the sparkle in your eyes now dulled to a mere dull light. Eventually you stopped hearing their distressed voices when you started to decline their offers of going out.
There was no point in forcing yourself to go anywhere anymore. It was more convenient to mask yourself as to not cause anymore worry.
But, this one night you decided to go out. Maybe it was to escape the realms that reminded you of your dying relationship. You texted Iwaizumi, it’s been awhile since you clicked on his contact. And of course, no response. Probably didn’t even glance at the notification. 
Whatever, you gulped down another shot, your step wobbled slightly. Things did not change, your friends held the same hidden worries for you. 
Was it a coincidence that his best friend was there? I mean he was quite the party animal nowadays. His casual, flirty tone ignored by you. Until you voiced heading home early, not wanting to keep your husband waiting. Oikawa’s eyes darkened, he knew something you didn’t. 
And that something was met with you when you quietly open the door to your shared apartment. The thumping of your heart was probably louder than the one heard from your shared bed. 
Suddenly, your surroundings were starting to blur in your vision. Was it the alcohol? Or have you finally lost it?
Hands shaking, you grasp the golden doorknob. Nothing to lose now, as you swung open the only barrier hiding the ugly truth. A shriek, a barely audible gasp and a sob. 
He didn’t even react, he didn’t scramble the way that busty bitch did when she made futile attempts to pick up her clothing and leave. He didn’t even look at your trembling form. 
After the woman hastily left your apartment, taking your dignity along with her. All you could do is silently stand there, hot tears streaming down your pale complexion. Hajime’s eyes, as always casted down at the sheets he committed great sin in. 
You make eye contact with him one last time. It was only a second, yet you saw it all. All the lies he hid, the hatred he held for you. He hid it so well, and you were a fool to not notice how obvious it was.
No more, you ran out of the apartment in the same fashion that woman he indulged with did. 
Days passed. Weeks as well. No apologies, no contact, no moments of crossings, nothing. This is what your marriage has come too. Months of drowning in tears and alcohol.  
The feeling of worthlessness, ugliness, everything negative consumed your being during this dark time. Your phone untouched, flooded with texts and calls from friends and family. But you didn't have the energy to respond back with empty lies. It didn’t matter, out all of those messages his name never popped up. 
How could he do this to you? How could he love you to the point of marriage only to ignore you til the downfall? How could he steal everything away from you like this? Your first kiss, your first time, your hand in marriage. And to just take that all away and leave you with absolutely nothing but heartache and painful thoughts. 
You pondered this, who knows how long you will continue too. And as you scroll down your social media feed for the first time in awhile, Oikawa’s constant post flooded your timeline, one particular caught your eye. A candid selfie of the pretty setter, your ex-husband and a girl clad in a white sundress and sun hat. The girl had perfect wavy, long brown hair that complimented her hazelnut eyes. A body of a goddess and a beautiful smile. Her delicate and dainty arms wrapped around the bicep of your ex-lover. 
Hajime’s face was caught off guard, yet overall he did not seem the least bit effected by the events that happened just months ago. 
It broke you, why was he happier now without you? Though he left you all alone to wallow in your own sadness and selfishness. 
You did not get it, and you never will. As you sobbed deeply into your arms on that cold night, the stars shone brightly into the room barely enveloping your quivering body, all you could ask yourself is where did it all go wrong?
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a/n: idk abt y’all but i think the most painful heartbreak is watching someone fall out of love with u. but once again thank you for reading my blogs you guys :’) i seriously cannot thank you enough 
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