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perfectly-unsad · 2 years ago

Text

You’re So Lucky

Pairings - fem!reader x Aki Hayakawa

Warnings - 18+ smut, unprotected sex, cream pie, oral sex f receiving, friends with benefits, Denji being a perv, slight angst but not really, not proof read

Word count - 2.8k

A/n - I wrote this in like an hour after seeing an Aki edit on tiktok and feeling absolutely feral for him so it’s not very good but we move. I haven’t read the CSM manga so sorry if anything is too inaccurate but it’s mostly just smut, not much lore!

I am planning on releasing a Halloween one shot (maybe a little late) but I’m not sure which fandom I’ll write it for, probably Haikyuu, so if there is any specific character you want it to be about just let me know!:)

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00:13.

You hummed along quietly to the song playing over the radio of your car, hoping neither of your parents would peer into your room to check on you throughout the night. A light buzzing of a notification on your phone caught your attention as you glanced down to see the text coming through.

"Aki: Are you nearly here?"

You chuckled at his eagerness, it had been some time since you had last seen him, the memory of your first encounter flicking through your mind as you recalled picking up your father, who had drunk a little too much with his colleagues, from a bar. Aki had helped him into the backseat of your shitty little student car, a few flirtatious words were shared and before you knew it he was asking you over in the sinful hours. His skillful flirting implied he was no stranger to talking with women, but you didn't care. You weren't looking for anything serious.

Both of you had agreed to a 'no feelings involved' relationship. It was just sex. Of course, it was only natural that your resolve faltered in some tender moments. Catching his soft gaze as you lay next to him, breathless and sweating, you thought it possible that something could grow from this. However, those moments were few and far between. More often than not, you'd be redressing before either of you had even caught your breath.

Finally, you had reached Akis residence. It was small, and cozy. Probably cleaner than the house you shared with others as a student. Just as you raised a fist to knock, his door swung open, startling you slightly. He quickly brought a finger to his lips, signaling for you to be quiet which had you giving him a confused look. As far as you knew, he lived alone, and neither of you had been especially considerate of the neighbours before. He lowered his finger and motioned for you to come in, which you did. He shut the door behind you, taking great care to be as quiet as possible before engulfing your hand with his and walking you to his room.

"Okay, what was that about? You get a noise complaint?" You questioned as soon as his bedroom door was shut.

"I've got a... roomate, type, thing. It's not important." He dismissed, shaking his head slightly as he approached you. His arms wrapped around your body in such a familiar way that the movement alone triggered your own muscle memory as you brought your arms over his shoulders without even thinking about it until your lips met his. He wasted no time in deepening the kiss, pressing harder against you, moving his soft lips against yours with an undeniable desire as his tongue pressed against yours.

It felt good for this to be so familiar. You had a few... escapades... while at university studying for a masters degree, but they were always rather brief and unexciting. Aki knew your body, and you knew his and it just felt right.

Without breaking the kiss, he guided you towards his bed until you felt his mattress at the back of your legs. His hands travelled down your body, running over your hips until he hooked his fingers under the waistband of the comfortable sweatpants you had on, pulling them down to expose your bare cunt.

He pulled away from your lips, glancing down to confirm what he thought to be true before returning his gaze to yours with a teasing smirk plastered across his lips. "Didn't even stop to put on underwear, huh? You must have missed me." His voice was so full of confidence, you wanted to roll your eyes or scoffed but honestly, he was right.

"I've been thinking about this all day." You said unabashedly, closing the small space between you as you planted soft kisses on his neck. Your words went straight to his cock as he hardened in the confinement of his trousers. Your body jolted instinctively when you felt a warm hand at your folds, two fingers pushing inside of you as his thumb circled your clit. "Aki," You breathed desperatley against his neck, physically unable to continue kissing him as waves of pleasure coursed through your body.

He leaned down to kiss your neck as he continued to skillfully work you until he had you grinding against his touch for more. You moved your neck however he dictated, leaving a trail of saliva in his path as he sucked on areas that forced moans out of your throat.

"Shh," He cooed quietly, bringing his lips up to tease against yours as the tips of your noses brushed against each other "look at me." His voice was deep and low, you wanted nothing more than to obey his every command so of course, you lifted your lidded gaze to meet his as he attempted to burn the sight of your flushed cheeks and swollen lips into his brain. "Tell me what you want."

"I- I wanna cum." You whined as another moan forced its way past your lips as his thumb pressed harder, focusing on the needy bundle of nerves while his two fingers curled deliciously inside of you until your legs began shaking. "F-fuck, Aki, ah~" Your voice was shaky as you felt the familiarity of the tension that built up just before the release, but just as you were about to come undone the friction of his hand was gone, the space taken up by his fingers was now empty. "Aki!" You whined frustratedly, pushing on his chest to convey your annoyance, not that it did anything to push him away.

Your cheeks somehow flushed an even darker red as you watched him lift his two glistening fingers to his mouth, sucking every last drop of your juices off of his digits whilst he maintained an intense eye contact with you.

"You taste so sweet, gorgeous." He smiled, resting his hands on your waist as he guided you to sit on the edge of his mattress as he positioned himself on his knees in front of you. He slid his hands down to your thighs, pushing your legs apart gently to look directly at your pretty, soaked cunt.

He couldn't stop a low moan from vibrating against your sensitive skin as sunk his tongue into you. Your eyes rolled shut as your head fell back at the feeling of his warm tongue burying inside of your. You moved your hands to his head, releasing his locks from the hair tye he had it in, allowing you to run your fingers through the full length of his hair.

A faint clinking sound could be heard and you assumed it was Aki taking off his belt to pull his trousers down. Shortly after that, he brought one of his hands up to pull your folds further apart, fully exposing your throbbing clit. His tongue was quickly replaced by two of his fingers, a gasp rushing out of your lungs when you felt him gently sucking on your clit, the pressure it created was intense and you could feel Aki smiling at your reaction.

"P-please, Aki, 'm gonna-" You could barely get your words out as he relentlessly worked your clit, arching his fingers inside of you to press against that soft spot he knew all too well. You could feel the coil inside of your stomach tightening and tightening, your muscles flexing achingly until finally it snapped. Your squeezed his head between your thighs as your walls tightened around his fingers. Mercilessly, he continued to suck against your overstimulated clit as you rode out your high against his tongue.

"I'll never forget how pretty you look when you cum." He smirked after managing to drag his lips away from your core, an erotic sheen smeared on his lips and chin.

"W-what about you?" You questioned, trying to sound confident but your voice sounded shaky, before he could say anything about it you outstretched your leg to place between his, rubbing against his throbbing erection with the top of your foot. You felt him grind against you at the unexpected contact which made you smile victoriously. "Awh, you're like a dog, can't help but move against my foot, huh? Sweet thing." You teased him.

Judging by the look in his eyes you knew you had fucked up. He lifted himself off of the floor, leaning in to give you a forceful kiss as his tongue coated yours. You could taste yourself on his lips, but he was quick to use his hands and body to force you further onto the bed and crawl on top of you.

His warm hand slid under your top, his fingertips gliding against your skin as he made his way up to give your tits a firm squeeze. You let out a small whine that was lost in his mouth when you felt him pinch your nipples between his pointer and middle finger. His lips curled into a smile against yours at your reaction, by now he knew exactly how to illicit all sorts of noises from you.

"Aki, please, I need you." You begged against his lips before kissing him gently.

"Need me to what?" He breathed in little more than a whisper, his warm breath hitting against your lips as he looked at you with a lustful, lidded gaze.

"Need you t'fuck me, please." You whined under him, he kissed you again, pressing his body against yours as he brushed over your nipple with his thumb.

"I'll never get tired of hearing you beg for me " His voice was low and hungry, laced with slight amusement as a feigned chuckle slipped its way through. Your gaze was brought downwards as he lowered his pants, his erection springing free from its confinement. Instinctively, you parted your legs a little wider for him, his hand stroking his base a few times before he refocused his eyes on you. "Such a good girl," He cooed, pressing his tip against your folds and rubbing it across your length "tell me how fucking lucky I am." His tip sliding teasingly across your clit every now and then was turning your brain to mush, all you wanted was to feel him inside of you, every thrust, every twitch, fuck you wanted all of him and you'd do and say just about whatever it took to get it.

"You're so fucking lucky you get to fuck me." You said, looking up into his eyes as you said it. A content smile appeared on his face as he stared back at you.

"Yeah, I am." He whispered just as he pushed himself inside of you, making sure to memorise the way your mouth fell open to let out a small gasp and the way your eyes closed while your head tilted back slightly. "Fuck," his voice trembled as he buried himself in your slick walls "you feel so good." He began to thrust in and out of you, the wet sounds of skin hitting skin filling the room and leaking beyond the thin walls, although neither of you seemed to care at this point.

"Waited for this for- ah, so fucking long," You moan as you feel his tip hitting that spongy soft spot deep inside of you.

"Yeah? You miss being fucked by me, beautiful?" He teased, keeping a steady rhythm as he continued to play with your nipples, seemingly on a mission to get you as overstimulated as possible. You mewled a pathetic response to him as you felt yourself reached your high once again. "I missed your pussy, too." He panted, approaching his own climax as his thrusts became more sloppy and desperate. "You want me to cum in this pretty little pussy?"

"Y-yeah," Was about all you could whine before your release, your walls tightening around his cock which choked a deliciously pleasurable groan out of Aki as he forced himself as deep inside you as possible, a mix of both of your juices leaking out of you as you felt him twitching uncontrollably inside of you. In the heat of the moment you hadn't even noticed how Aki slid his hand into yours, lacing your fingers together tenderly.

His body was shaking slightly as he used all his strength to not completely collapse on top of you. "It's okay, you can lean on me." You reassured him, your breath grazing the side of his neck as he hung his head over your shoulder. Your chest rose and fell as you breathed deeply, trying to recatch your breath while running your free hand through his loose black hair. He quickly gave up trying to keep himself off of you, his clothed chest now pressed against your bare one, your tank top having been rolled above your tits.

His body weight felt was slightly crushing for a second, but once you adjusted it felt comfortable. He embraced you intimately as he softened inside of you, moments like this stirred a longing feeling in your chest. You were fine being friends with benefits, honestly, it probably made more sense since you were studying at a university outside of Tokyo. But... This felt so right. It never felt like this with anyone else, and a small part of you hoped he felt the same.

A creaking of the floorboards from outside Akis room pulled you out of your thoughts, you both lifted your heads in unison, only now noticing that the door was now cracked opened.

"Denji you fucking pervert, you better not have been watching us!" Aki shouted as he lifted himself off of you, pulling up his pants and racing over to the door to peer outside. You gave a slightly amused chuckle at his reaction, sitting up to put your own trousers back on.

"Your roommate-type-thing, I assume?" You asked after he had shut the door and turned back to face you.

"Yeah, sorry he's such an- are you leaving?" He asked, the thinly veiled disappointment in his voice made your chest clench.

"Well, yeah, we're done... Aren't we?" You replied, as if you were asking something obvious. This was what you two had agreed to, after all. Time seemed to stop for a moment as you waited in silence for his response, if he asked you to stay, you would. You hoped he would.

"Uh, sure, I guess so." He said quietly with a sigh, reflexivly walking over to his bedside table to pull out a pack of cigarettes. If he wanted you to stay, he would have asked, so perhaps he didn't.

"You're still smoking?" You huffed. It was something you brought up almost every time you saw him.

"I have a stressful job." He replied, bringing a lighter up to the end of the cigarette, you let out your own disappointed sigh as you stood up.

"Well, at least kiss me goodbye before you light it, they taste disgusting." You bartered. He looked up at you as you walked over to lean above him, he plucked the cigarette out of his mouth, holding it delicately between two fingers before reaching up and placing a bitter sweet kiss on your lips. It lasted longer than any old goodbye kiss, as if this was your way of telling him without words that you wanted to stay, or his way of telling you he didn't want you to go.

However, when you finally pulled away from him and looked at his perfect face, the corners of your lips pulled into a sad smile. "Bye, pretty boy. I'll text you when I'm back in Tokyo so we can do this again," You said while walking towards his door, placing your hand on the metal handle "unless you get a girlfriend by then." You added on in a jokey tone, although it was a very real possibility, the thought of it made a flurry of jealousy swirl inside of you, but his response was reassuring.

"Yeah, right," He scoffed in bitter amusement, finally lighting his cigarette "text me when you get home so I know you're safe, okay?" He ordered, exhaling the puff of smoke above his head.

"Will do, see ya!" You said cheerfully as you gave him a small wave before shutting his bedroom door behind you. Once closed, you let out a big sigh, staring at the wall in front of you as you considered your situationship with Aki.

"So, are you Akis girlfriend?" An unfamiliar voice startled you from the darkness, but it was certainly more curious than menacing. When you turned your head to see where it came from you noticed the body that the voice belonged to looked a bit younger than you two. No doubt this was the 'roommate-type-thing'.

"You must be the peeping tom, Denji." You joked, the polite smile on your face contradicting your teasing words as he blushed at your accusation and stuttered over his defence.

#aki hayakawa #csm smut #csm x reader #aki x reader #aki hayakawa x reader #anime x reader #anime x y/n #chainsaw man #anime oneshot #anime #csm manga

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space-oreos · 2 years ago

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Nighttime Routine Times Two

Summary:

Nighttime routine times two, because there was just me. Now there’s you.

Words: 1357

Warnings: None (Besides the fact that I know nothing about what I just wrote? Yeah none. Also I’m pretty sure some ppl rip face masks to make them fit better? Idk tho)

(I wanted to post this at night but I got impatient)

Digital Library (other stuff)

One of the things I pride myself about is my nighttime routine. How even if I’m tired, I always start at 9:30

Taking showers every other day so my scalp stays healthy, but body showers everyday so I feel clean, this is my nighttime routine.

Remove make-up (if I have it on)

Make-up drys out your skin, it can also clog your pores, stain your pillowcases, bed sheets, so wiping it off especially with something that doesn’t cause my skin to be more dry is important, for my pillowcases and my pores.

Cleanser

Cleansing, ridding my face and neck of the dirt and sebum, and also getting rid of the residue that my wipes can’t get.

Shower

Do I really have to explain this?

Apply toner

Used to soften the skin and level out pH levels, used to rid of oils and hydrate the skin.

Wait 60 seconds

Next is serum

Apply serum

Helps firm the skin, also helps with break outs.

Wait 60 seconds

Then moisturizer

Apply moisturizer

Helps repair “damage” while giving the skin nutrients. Although it just do I for the nutritional benefit, damaged or not skin is still skin, skin is beautiful.

Wait 60 seconds

And the part before the finish, eye cream.

Apply eye cream

With the skin around the eyes being the thinnest, they tend to wrinkle faster. Not that that’s a problem but if I could look 20 in my late 30s then why not? Though all ages tend to have their own beauty.

Then my favorite part, turn on a movie and put on a mask.

Well I used to think that was my favorite part. Maybe that was my favorite part when I was alone, but I’m not alone anymore, and this was proven when one night I caught two pairs of two different shades of green watching me , well my reflection.

Hair wet from our shower there she was, with an old t-shirt on leaning on the bathroom door frame.

She looked like she was in a trance watching me, I almost didn’t want to break it. “Yes, babe?”

Catching my gaze in the mirror and getting startled with my question Natashas face heated to a tint of red, looking down at Liho, she started running her fingers through her fur, “Nothing, Um. I just like watching you.”

Looking down at the cat she was holding I noticed unlike Natasha Liho never took her eyes of me, “Looks like Liho likes watching me too.”

This made her look up, flushing a brighter tint of red that I felt my face heat up itself.

“Would you like to join me?” Giving me a confused look instead of an answer I asked her once again “Would you like to join me, love. I have more than enough.”

Making my way towards her I grabbed Liho out of her hold and put her on the ground, grabbing Natasha’s scarred hands I brought her to where I was, exactly where I was, and got up on the bathroom counter, her body in between my legs. Pulling her closer I started where I was in my nighttime routine, applying toner, “Close those eyes of yours, I’m gonna put this on your face, okay?” Nodding she closed her eyes, her head leaning into the hand that was cradling her, my other applying the toner, my heart trying not to burst, me trying not to kiss her. She whispered “What are you doing?” Biting back a smile I murmured back “Applying toner” Putting down the cotton ball I was using on her face, I counted to 60 in my head. Opening those eyes of hers and giving me a small smile, her smile, she asks “what now?” “Now we wait”

“Now we apply serum” reaching to grab the bottle behind me Natasha moved her hands from the counter to gripped my hips, making sure I didn’t lean back to far and hit the mirror behind me, “I already have serum” flexing her arms I felt her squeeze a little more, “haha, funny. Now stay still, and close you eyes, please” Doing as told with a smile on her face she started rubbing her thumbs up and down, causing me to smile too.

Letting my fingers glide across her skin she asks me with closed eyes, “What’s this again?” Smiling with my face already done I answered “Moisturizer, love”. “It kinda feels gross” I laughed and cupped her face with both my hands “I know” she opened her eyes studying my face like it was the first time, I did as well. “It takes some time to get used to”. Finally making eye contact, little hints of joy started showing on both our faces “Now what?”

“Eye cream” she gave me a confused smile, “Eye cream?” Chucking I slid my hands down her face and around her neck, “Yes, eye crea-“ before I could finish my sentence I was interrupted by a meow “Meeeowww~” Looking to the bottom corner of the door frame sat Liho, I guess she hadn’t moved from the spot I put her. “I guess she wants to join?” Looking back at Natasha I gave relaxed sigh “Does she now?” “Yep” Looking at a now vocal Liho once more, an idea popped into my head, “I think I might have something” giving me a curious looked with her eyebrows knotted and smile apparent, I tapped Natasha’s arm twice letting her know I wanted off the counter, with hesitance she helped me down. “I’ll be back in a minute”.

With us both staring at a purring Liho who was now content on the couch Natasha let out a huff, “I didn’t think that’d actually work” grabbing her hands I started leading her to our spot “I know right? I knew she’d stay still enough to let me put the cucumbers on her eyes but to actually let them stay on? She stopped meowing too. Spoiled kitty”. Seating her on the couch I grabbed the remote and started shuffling through movies, asking Natasha for her input. “Are we done now?” With a smirk on my face I picked a movie and picked up two packets for face masks, “No we actually have one more thing, don’t sound so sad. I like to think you enjoyed this” handing her a packet I opened my own and applied it, making certain adjustments and getting it my first try, muscle memory. Quick to correct me she blurted out “I do! I do enjoy this, honestly it seemed kinda short”

Short? Doing this routine on one person took up time, don’t even ask about two. Turning I have a quizzical look “Short?”

Her face was once tinted red again, but not in the same manner as before, and that bothered me. She gave all her attention to fiddling with her unfolded face mask at hand, letting out a quiet but heard “I don’t know. I guess it just seemed kinda short, to me? Never mind”, observing her more I scooted closer to her, taking the face mask out of her fidgeting hands. She kept her gaze down the whole time until I straddled her, finally looking up she gave me a questioning look. “You’re not ripping in the right spots, love. Let me.” Laying the mask on her face I murmured “If you wanted to spend more time with me you could have just asked” face flushing once again she whispered back like if she said it too loud it would break the moment “We spend so much time together I didn’t think it’d make sense to ask for more.” Lifting her chin getting her to look to me I gave her a small reassuring smile “Love, I’ll give all my time to you until my times all spent” At that her eyes flickered down to my lips. “Okay?” “Okay.” Leaning forward our lips met, in a slow kiss.

“What part of the routine is this?” She asked when we both lent back. Smiling against her lips, my hands playing with the hairs on the nape of her neck, I murmured “My favorite part”.

#natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natalia romanova #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x you #natalia romanova x reader #Natasha romanoff fluff

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carnal-lnstinct · 3 years ago

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YOUR OPEN FOR REQUESTS OH MY GOD YES

Hopefully i didn’t miss the window i was struggling to decide what to ask for 😹

If i made it in time i’d LOVE to request some Raditz x black reader with the “Beg for it” prompt from that 100 nsfw prompt list :3c

Bold of you to not specify who is begging! But I’ll give Raditz his fun this time, the handsome beasty that he is. ♥

Pairing: Raditz x Black Female Reader ( Requested by @emmacornell ) Rating: Mature / 18+. Minors DNI Warning: ( explicit language, established relationship, size difference ) Prompt: #10. “Beg for it.”

The importance of a healthy skincare routine falls on deaf ears to a saiyan. Reaping the benefits of another’s efforts better suited his taste, watching you smooth the creams into your freshly hydrated skin. Like some preying beast waiting for the moment to pounce at you. For all his wiles, he still behaved like a selfish brute, drawn to indulge in the sweet, natural smells and inviting softness when your bare and enriched umber legs reflected the light. All for him. Raditz was baited to you with nary a word as he knocked you back onto the bed and pinned you beneath him. Despite his imposing size lingering over you, it was a chaste admiration he offered at first. Battle-hardened knuckles caressing the bare skin of your chin and neck.

“Do you have to do this every time after we fuck?” You groan, letting yourself sink into the bed beneath him with a prod of your finger at his forehead.

“Kinda.” The male purrs, leaning close to kiss your exposed skin and take in its warm softness with his lips. “Yes.”

“Raditz...You have to leave me clean sometimes.”

In his defense, you started this routine. You washed away his scent from you and coated yourself with something more enticing, he can’t just let that injustice to his imprinting go when your body begged him to do it all over again. He can never get tired of doing it. His touch became less coy now, switching between hungry kisses to your skin and nips of sharp canines trailing down to the loosened towel around your chest. A hand smooths your inner thighs as well, spreading them apart and finding your folds with two fingers fondling the sensitive exterior.

His other hand practically tears the damp towel from between you and tosses it to the floor, then finds both your hands and holds them above your head, further binding you to his desire to play some more. Raditz clamps his mouth around your freed breast. You arch with a soft gasp at the wet touch, an audible moan leaving you when his fingers parted your folds and stroked between your slit from entrance to clit, then circling the tender bud. You can feel his warm tail slithering up between you, coiled to hold your other breast and dutifully stroking across to tease your nipple. His tongue practically danced around the one he occupied to coax your body back into the heated state you shared less than an hour ago.

Only when you started to squirm, yielding to the pleasure stirring up between your legs did the saiyan release your breast with a wet pop. His tail withdraws as well just for him to continue his gobbling in its place, tugging your hardened nipple between his lips before sucking it in between them. Appreciating the soft cushion of your breast against his face while his mouth indulged you to his heart’s content.

Raditz didn’t need to tease you but took it as his own personal revenge for you always cleaning yourself after you get done fucking him. You should still be filled with his cum seeping out of you by the load, sun-blessed skin shining with sweat instead of the sweet-smelling cream. Oh, but he can make do with both for now. He slips his cock inside your slick walls with ease, gently crawling forward on his knees so he could sit closer against your body leaving his impressive length to fill you completely. Holding himself deep inside you as your legs couldn't settle on clinging around his hips or opening wider to accommodate him.

Arms pinned above and hips pinned below, you were trapped beneath him. Raditz smirked to himself and abandons your chest to nip your chin in your feeble attempts to buck your hips against him, whining under the pressure of his full cock pressed snuggly at your deepest parts. His size was almost a discomfort to be skewered onto him like this and he knew it. His revenge wasn’t complete until he had you whimpering and begging to be pounded by him until he could fill you up all over again.

He was kind enough to take both your hands into his own, your fingers locked together, though bound still on each side of your head now. “Go on.” He husked, pressing his forehead to yours and nuzzling your nose with his own. “No need to drag it out now. Beg for it.”

#♚ ;; [ requests ]#My writing #raditz x reader #raditz imagine #raditz #dbz fics #dbz imagine #nsft #lemon #black reader #black y/n

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bumblebear30 · 3 years ago

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Needle in a Haystack

Casey Novak x Alex Cabot,

Warnings: Fluff, emotional hurt / comfort (minor), grilled cheese, ice cream and existential crisis, mentions of baking gingerbread.

About 5K words so if you’d prefer to read on AO3 it’s here

A continuation of the Welcome Home Surprises and Five Times Calex ‘verse

Needle in a Haystack

There was a thing about working long hours that Casey just inherently understood – like, legitimately. She had no leg to stand on if it came to pontificating on the benefits of getting home in time for dinner – even when making that a late dinner. But even she knew to not let the habit stretch on for too long. With the kind of work they put themselves through, taking some time away from it was among the most important things to do – a lesson she had very much learnt the hard way.

As had Alex, supposedly.

But as Casey sighed quietly into their too-silent apartment, alone for yet another night in a string that had gotten so long she’d stopped keeping count, she couldn’t help but feel that lump of concern growing heavier as the mounted clock in her study ticked later and later. Finally, just as she was about to throw in the towel with the damnable tort reform article she’d been trying to edit for several days now, the sound of the key sliding home in its lock instantly caught her attention – each tumbler rumbling and clicking to announce their owner’s arrival home.

Finally -home.

Quickly crossing the hallway Casey was there as Alex finally stepped through the threshold. She’d been bundled up in her heavy winter coat, the scarf Casey had gifted her last Christmas slowly uncurled to reveal the face she knew so well, loved so well, looking tired and drawn, somehow even paler than usual. Even once the jacket was shrugged off of her shoulders and been hung up in the closet the blonde looked as if the weight of the world remained sat on her shoulders.

And yet, as blue eyes finally found hers in the dim lighting of the hall Casey saw a lighter spark flash through them. Answering with a soft smile of her own she took a few steps forward, automatically reaching out to steady Alex as she precariously attempted to wriggle her foot out of her boots. Getting to touch Alex, feel the soft warmth of her skin as her jumper rode up, letting Casey’s supportive grip curl round her hip in an all too familiar way, elicited such a strong feeling in her gut that Casey was caught off-guard with the intensity of her own reaction.

She floundered. So uncharacteristic of her these days, suddenly too overwhelmed to know how to even broach greeting the woman who was standing now, holding onto her forearms – her best friend, the love of her life – who looked as if a stern glare would knock her over. How was Casey supposed to ask any more of her, try to explain she missed her, had waited for as long as possible to share dinner together just as they’d promised they would, without adding to the Sisyphean workload and guilt that she knew Alex already took on every day.

So, swallowing heavily and holding Alex’s gaze as she curled a hand around her elbow Casey fell back on to what had always come most naturally to her. Caring for Alex,

“Can I get you some food?”

After having placed a quick peck to the side of Casey’s cheek Alex was already stepping away from her with a soft shake of her head,

“No.”

“A drink then?” Casey tried to keep her voice light – a veiled attempt at hiding her underlying worry, worries, from Alex. The blonde sighed tiredly, tipped her head back to the ceiling as she seemed to try to fill her lungs and expel the way the day had dragged her down.

She finally turned back to Casey with a wry smile,

“Yes, but too much, so no. Thank you love.”

“Alright,” Casey trailed her hand across Alex’s waist as she headed back to the kitchen to put the leftovers away. She called back over her shoulder as she went “Do you want me to run you a bath or get the shower running for you?”

Her quiet but continued effort to find some way – any way – to help Alex feel better made the blonde’s heart swell. She knew – very much – how down and awkward she was to live with in general, let alone for the past several months. And yet, despite it all - and her own increasing workload - Casey, her adoring loving and supportive Casey, was still there for her every night; doing all she could to try make her feel better whilst not crowding or smothering her. It was a tightrope which even Alex didn’t know where the edge was and yet Casey seemed to dance across it with increasing regularity.

Honestly if Alex thought about it too much, she felt like she would start crying and she didn't know if she had it in her to be able to stop.

Still awaiting an answer Casey turned back to look at Alex and instantly she could see the battle being waged in front of her. It made her heart ache even more fiercely than before,

“Oh Al,” she curled her hand round Alex's neck and then up to cup the back of her head, encouraging the exhausted blonde to rest her head on her shoulder, which Alex automatically did – just short of burrowing into Casey’s neck where she took several deep, almost heaving, breaths, "Oh sweetheart."

Casey pressed a kiss to the crown of Alex’s head before turning her own head and pressing her cheek there instead. She let the moment of comfort last as long as Alex needed - no more, no less.

When Alex’s breathing slowly evened-out she pulled back, and Casey sought out her gaze,

“What do you need? What can I do right now baby?”

Despite being able to swallow back all the tears Alex still felt the need to wipe at her eyes and sniff heavily, she chuckled darkly at herself and Casey just knew she was trying to wordlessly apologise for looking like a mess. As if Alex Cabot could ever look like a mess.

Reaching out Casey took hold of Alex’s hands as they went to wrap around her own waist, her go to move when she was feeling anxious and vulnerable. Instead, she pressed gentle kisses across Alex’s knuckles till the blonde was smiling softly at her. Seeing the expression Casey tried again,

“Al, honey, what do you need?”

“Right now?”

“Yep, right now. Name it.”

“A nap.” That at least drew a genuine laugh from Casey and she happily tugged Alex along the corridor towards their bedroom,

“Then a nap we shall have.”

***

Casey awoke sometime later to an empty bed.

Slightly concerned given how quietly distraught Alex had been earlier she decided now was not the time to give the blonde more space. Still wiping the sleep from the corner of her eyes she followed some faint rustling noises to suddenly be stopped in her tracks at an altogether unexpected sight: Alex rummaging in the freezer; no make-up on, hair in scooped up in a messy bun, glasses on the end of her nose, and all in nothing else but panties and a singlet.

She watched as the blonde finally freed the small tub of cookie dough ice cream from the clutches of the freezer, an adorably small victorious grin on her face.

Goddamn it she loved this woman.

After letting her earlier anxiousness and worry melt away at seeing the blonde more like her usual self, Casey decided to interrupt Alex’s happy little moment - although the way the blonde was practically dancing on the spot as she hummed happily and waved the spoon through the air really did bring a genuine smile to the redhead’s face,

“You better not just mine out all the cookie dough.”

Alex jumped a bit at the sudden noise but catching the teasing look and how Casey had her hip sassily popped in the door frame made her instantly calm once again. Turning away from the redhead she hopped up onto closest counter top, slowly pulling the spoon upside down from her mouth to ensure all traces of her ice cream were gone before waving it at Casey with an indifferent air,

“That was one time.”

Chuckling Casey pushed off and came to stand in between Alex's knees,

“I'd say that gives me probable cause to at least issue a warning.”

“Oh shush,”

Automatically Casey opened her mouth as Alex, with some apparent reluctance, scooped a (small) spoon for her. She savoured the cold sweetness for a moment or two, simply watching as Alex methodically ate through the ice cream – taking great pains to make sure the cookie dough bits were all eaten first. Typical.

Her legs swung lightly from her perch on the countertop and the movement drew Casey towards, them. She ran her hands up and over Alex’s long thighs – not with any agenda – but rather simply because she wanted to try give some comfort, some reassurance, by being there for the blonde.

When Alex responded by linking her ankles behind Casey’s waist and pulling her closer with a cheeky quirk of her brow and glint to her eye as she slowly eased the spoon out of her mouth once again whilst holding Casey’s gaze? The redhead couldn’t help but laugh. Her princess always was rather incorrigible.

But right now, she was going to be the better person, the better lover, partner or whatever you wanted to call it, and not instantly fall for Alex’s wily charm. Casey was more than aware that Alex had been particularly snowed under at work of late, but what had grown to concern her more was how she’d also seemed caught up in her head so much around Casey recently too: her mouth hovering open at times before she’d click it shut firmly. Oddly unspoken questions in her stormy blue eyes that Casey hadn’t had to experience in such a long time. She knew they needed to reconnect, relax, and just spend some uninterrupted time together again because she wanted to press the blonde about what it was that was bothering her without it seeming like an ambush when she was already so worn out and vulnerable.

Just like earlier, in the hall, Casey knew the wrong word or interpretation could very well break her beloved. Running her hands further up the sides of Alex’s legs they instinctively came to rest around Alex’s waist. Content in the embrace Alex couldn’t suppress another little hum of happiness and she nodded so Casey would open her mouth and be fed some more of the ice cream which Alex actually seemed more than happy to share now she was getting cuddled.

Still the blonde watched her slightly warily, knowing that the way Casey was looking at her meant she was trying to figure out how to ask her something.

She’d gotten more than used to seeing that look when they’d first starting becoming friends – and then more – but it had been some time since she’d been so aware of the redhead being so unsure around her. It made her already heavy heart sink that little bit more, at least finally fortified with some sleep, ice cream, and being wrapped in Casey’s arms, Alex felt she might just about manage to take the bull by the horns as she always did. Steeling herself she placed the carton to the side for a moment and let her arms fall across herself protectively,

“Just say it Casey.”

The arched eyebrow and lifting of Casey chin in response to her tone stirred some warmth within Alex – Casey was always her equal for stubbornness and had long become immune to Alex’s self-protective brashness. With an only slightly deeper than normal breath Casey let some of the sudden tension bleed from her shoulders and she set about yet again gently pulling Alex’s arms from around her own waist as she spoke as calmly as she could,

“You need a break,”

Having prepared herself for recriminations at her attitude and absence the past few weeks – she knew she’d been both physically and emotionally distant from Casey – the softness and care with which she was being met unsettled Alex. Ducking away from the all-too-knowing eyes she glanced around and picked up the ice cream once more, glad she had something to occupy her hands with as she grumbled with no small amount of petulance,

“I’ve had more than enough time off.”

“Witsec doesn't count you know.”

The quick comeback, delivered with a small smirk and crinkling of eyes to soften the blow made Alex both huff in amusement and glare at Casey at the same time. Despite her apparent amusement Casey knew she had to tread carefully.

Reaching up she nudged Alex’s glasses further up her nose to their usual spot before turning her hand just so to gently caress down her cheek and jaw, finishing with playing with some of the stray hair that had escaped Alex’s hasty bun. The entire move had been instinctual, no words had been necessary and the redhead just hoped that Alex would be able to see she was coming from a point of care rather than criticism,

“You're no good to yourself if you burn out, you're gloriously human and I love you.”

Slightly bashful at such open adoration Alex tried to deflect the moment by booping the cold spoon against Casey’s nose, smiling adorably when there is a faintest smear of ice cream left over and Casey instinctively crossing her eyes in trying to see it.

“Come here you,”

Chuckling Alex used her thumb to swipe away the small trace of ice cream before leaning forward and kissing Casey there instead,

“I love you,” she says quietly, earnestly, as Casey dropped back down from her tip toes.

The sweetness of the moment made her smile, particularly in knowing that Alex was not upset nor instantly dismissing her concerns.

“Good. And because I love you I am going to tell you you need something more substantial than ice cream right now– shall I make you a grilled cheese to tide you over till breakfast?”

“Please, that would be really great thank you darling.”

“Of course baby, now –,” she shot Alex a cheeky smirk as she started getting things ready across the kitchen, “Am I making this your way or my way?”

“I would hope by now you would make it the correct way.”

Alex aimed for haughty, somehow pulling it off despite her soft appearance. The glares and arched eyebrows they give each other amplified and lasted until Casey broke first and laughed. Without needing further clarification she reached for Alex's beloved cheese slices and started assembling the other ingredients to make Alex her secretly favourite comfort food.

The way she quietly and confidently just puts it all together as Alex watched her from her perch, her feet still sometimes bumping the cabinet below, made the blonde fall for Casey all the more, ‘as if such a thing were possible’ she always admonished herself.. Casey could feel her scrutiny but let her just watch, knowing that Alex was obviously ruminating on something - or just checking out her ass. To be honest Casey was perfectly fine with either scenario. She plated up the grilled cheese and passed it to Alex with a mock curtsy,

"Your food m'lady" It makes Alex snort, which had been Casey's goal,

"You're such a dork." Wordlessly, although with a crooked smile which betrays her intention she hooks her legs behind Casey again so she's 'forced' to stand in between Alex's legs. Such a hardship.

"But you love me."

“But I love you."

A soft smile is shared until Alex leant forward to bestow a gentle but lingering kiss on her redhead. Her lips are slightly greasy from the cheese and Casey can feel crumbs from the toasted bread against her skin, but it still ranks amongst her favourite ever moments in the kitchen, which is saying something.

Even after finishing the kiss Alex refused to move her head further away, taking the moment of being free from Casey’s gaze to finally voice a concern that had been growing in her mind for the past several months,

“Maybe taking the job was a mistake. We live together and work in the same building but even then I hardly ever see you.”

“It comes in waves like that sometimes, and it's as much on me as it is you.”

Having finally broached the topic Alex felt comfortable enough now to lean back to look Casey in the eye. She spoke between bites as she finished her snack, grateful to have something else to physically focus on and keep her grounded,

“I know darling, but it just feels like this wave isn't going to break and I'm on that edge of going under.” A crust is waved dangerously close to Casey’s nose, “I always thought that this is what I wanted - I mean chief of trial division? It’s insane.”

Casey knew to just let Alex rant now she'd gotten on a roll,

"But I can never win you know? There's always another scandal, another murderer, ponzi scheme rip off and corrupt landlord, and all I'm doing is racing around and around. I feel like I'm not achieving anything. I haven't even stepped foot in a courtroom in over a year.”

She stalled, mouth still slightly open, hand paused in the air mid-gesture till she lets it drop onto her own thigh with a defeated thud. She shifted the now empty plate to the side and her expression was just so lost and frustrated and defeated that Casey knew she had to try cheer her up. They could mine down into things later, she just needed to see Alex smile once again,

“Do you know what it is you do want Al? Because I know for one you are a shoe-in for the Manhattan SVU bureau if you step down but are wanting to get back to trials.” She nudged at Alex's hip playfully as the blonde scoffed and rolled her eyes,

“Oh, is that so?”

“Yeah, like, I know who runs it, can put in some good words for you if you'd like. Think she always had a bit of a soft spot for you anyway.”

It pulled a light chuckle from the blonde at least.

Alex let her arms naturally twine around Casey's neck as the redhead continues to giggle lightly at her own joke, simply seeking physical comfort and receiving it as Casey pulled her tighter against her front for several moments,

“Seriously though, there is more out there than the DAs office Lex. If you want to go and explore for a bit they'll always welcome you back with open arms - maybe even give you an even bigger office with an even fancier chair upon your return...”

At her inference Alex pulled back to look at Casey in the eye, but all she is met with is an open honesty that makes her heart thud loudly, a low buzz sounding in her ears. The redhead's eyes crinkle at the side as she gives Alex her most endearing smile,

“I've been in love with you for years. That you've been thinking about running for DA since you started law school is your worst kept secret.”

Alex huffed petulantly and dropped her gaze at being so easily called out. She tried running her hands down Casey's arms to distract her whilst she thought of a usual denial and way of downplaying it, but the redhead caught them gently and entwined her own dextrous fingers with the blonde's, her thumb sweeping soothingly across the back of her hand to get Alex's attention,

“I meant it though sweetheart. If you want a career change for a bit and then come back as an EADA, Bureau or Division Chief or to make a run for the big chair, or never come back at all and completely stay away forever - I will be here being your biggest cheerleader and helping however I can.”

The earnestness makes Alex’s throat go scratchy, she opts for running her hand over her face as a way to escape for a moment and compose herself. But when she opened her eyes again Casey was still there, same endlessly adoring expression painted across her face. Alex’s whole being ached with love for her,

“For a prosecutor you are such a softy Casey Novak.”

Alex kissed her slowly, purposefully, trying to pull in all the belief and love and support that Casey seemed to have infinite wells of just for her. There was a moment when they parted, their eyes still nearly closed but just able to meet, their lips separated but still touching - everything felt so vast and overwhelming and yet not because they're tethered there together, held in each other’s arms, the smell of grilled cheese and the sweetness of cookie ice cream still in the air and the bustling silence of the world out side the glass windows receded to nothing.

It lasts for an eternity; it is less than a second.

Alex wants to ask her then, that question which had been burnt to the roof of her mouth for months, always being bitten back by her insecurity of it not being the right time, the right moment –

Marry me, marry me, marry me.

I can't do this without you.

You are everything.

Please say yes.

But just like every other time, she stalled, her mouth clicking shut.

The words stick to the back of her teeth, her brain tripping over their simplicity, their earthshattering importance.

The response to them had the power to destroy her and that power had her inherent anxiety spiking more than she’d ever felt before. And Casey, just like several weeks ago during the perfectly intimate, romantic and gloriously happy birthday dinner that Alex had arranged, with the determination of asking her then but getting too caught up in the mechanics and then Casey's beauty – her attentive, intuitive and wonderful girlfriend, seemed entirely oblivious to the hold she had; the weight of the moment seemed lost to her, and maybe it had been. Casey’s simple existence often ground Alex's whole world to a halt in the best of ways, she had no guarantee the redhead felt that same heated potential in their every interaction.

Instead, she stood there, wrapped in Alex’s arm and long legs, and smiled softly, almost sadly at Alex, holding her gaze as she ran her hands across the blonde’s cooling legs. The heat of her touch brought Alex back from her spiralling mind and she had to turn her head away to breathe and try recentre herself, to untangle her tongue from the unspoken mantra.

"Do you have any ideas what you might do if you did step away? It's a whole wide world out there..."

The way Casey was clearly trying to keep the serious topic light-hearted for now, as if Alex wasn't juggling with the idea of her professional life and lifelong goals changing like sand beneath her feet as her heart yearned for solidifying that one thing that now was all she wanted, needed, to feel complete. Her own brain berating her for getting scared once more... Goddamn it why did Casey have to be so perfect. There were tears building at her bottom eyelid as she tried to chuckle, having to sniff and swipe at her own face to compose herself once again,

"Honestly?"

"Always,"

"I'd love to travel again."

"You would?" Blonde locks brushed Casey's own shoulders as Alex nodded before leaning back, seeming more put together as she put voice to the ideas swirling through her mind,

"Yes. God, I want to drink good cheap French wine and walk-through fields of lavender in Provence even though you'll complain it'll make your eyes itch the entire time. I want to eat so much Italian pasta and pizza that you'll finally realise how disturbing it is to be sat opposite you during thanksgiving -,”

She ignored Casey's plaintive attempt to defend herself whilst also quietly laughing at the memory of Alex's horrified face during their first festive holiday with Casey's extended family – it was not her fault that her mum's turkey and stuffing was the best in Casey’s opinion and she had to eat her copious portion quickly otherwise her brothers would steal it from her plate like little trash panda thieves.

Alex's plate was always safe because she was a guest (and secretly because Casey's whole family was slightly intimidated and in awe of her). Casey, being the youngest and being the only girl, had never had such a luxury. Alex also laughed lightly at the memory they were both obviously thinking about, her hands tangling in a teasing tug and pull with Casey's as she hit her stride,

"- I want to go island hopping around Greece where you can get feta cheese on everything and we can never get the sand off of our feet or out our hair. Drinking ouzo out of the bottle as you eat olives even though you always claim to hate them."

Her exuberance was making Casey really smile now, loving seeing Alex so enthusiastic and animated once again,

“I want to go see the northern lights as we sip gluhwein and eat gingerbread and I can use you as my own personal space heater.”

The way Alex now licked her lips and canted forward just slightly had Casey’s pulse instantly racing,

“I want to go out clubbing in Berlin and Amsterdam, have too much tequila and dance with you and not care because no one else there will know us,"

She tugged Casey even closer to her, the redhead’s most recent chuckle getting caught in her throat as she became aware of how tightly their hips were pressed together, the heat there where they touched, and how Alex's face was so close to her own, the proximity getting even more charged with want and desire with each shallow breath the subtlest of movements as Alex's licked her lips as if she could taste the salt of Casey's skin from the sweat of dancing together already.

She swallowed heavily, and Alex seemed to lose herself as her gaze followed the movement of Casey's throat. She blinked slowly, almost languidly, and took time to extricate herself from whatever vivid imaginary scene she'd gotten lost in with a quiet sigh and Casey couldn't figure out if she was relieved or disappointed.

The blonde was almost sheepish as she leant back, her legs also relaxing their hold on Casey as she settled onto the counter top once more (why she couldn't have had this existential crisis on the comfortable couch or in bed was just another idiosyncrasy that she would be annoyed about were it not for Casey being there with her.)

"So," Casey's slightly husky voice broke the charged stillness but the effect was muted after she had to clear her throat again given how dry her mouth had somehow gotten, "after this grand European food tour," her down-playment made Alex smile, "what then?"

"I, I don't know -," Alex tried to hide the quiet vulnerability of her own words by reaching out to tuck some of Casey's hair back in place,

I don't care as long as you’re with me.

"-I know I'll want to do something. Something that helps people. Whether political or legal I'm not sure but that's where my strengths lie."

The response was so Alex that Casey wanted to kiss her again, repeatedly, but she knew they were making progress, finally, on this long overdue conversation,

"You could always go into private practice you know? You wouldn't even have to work for offers to land at your feet and you know it. "

The way Alex sighed and then rolled her eyes let Casey know she had at least thought about it already,

"I hate so many of the usual suspects though, I'd have to be a named partner or set up my own firm and that seems so ridiculous,

"Oh I don't know, Cabot Solicitors always sounded quite striking to me," Casey couldn’t help but run the flat of her hand over the top of Alex’s thigh, as if warming her cool skin would also warm the blonde to the idea.

But I'll need you with me.

Be brave Alexandra.

"Hmm, Cabot & Novak sounds better though, two names is always punchier don't you agree?"

She tried to play it off with her best teasing smirk, hoping that it would hide the jumping of her pulse, and that the redhead would pick up on her inference anyway and let Alex off the hook...

"Nah, it'd have to be Novak & Cabot or nothing, my papa always said if I ever got made a named partner to ensure Novak came first,"

Her smile was wide, playful like the gleam in her eyes, and now was the moment for Alex to push over that line, let Casey know what it was she was really trying to ask,

It could be still be one name. Cabot-Novak?

It'd be so easy for her to say, to draw Casey into that little world she was creating for them in her mind, in her heart,

Just say, just ask.

She opened her mouth.

"Is this the same Pappy who insists on me having a brandy before breakfast with him every morning when we visit? Still calls you his 'little Caseycat' and has a video of your kindergarten dance recital that he made me digitise for him? That papa? "

Bottled it once again.

Casey hated that Alex could make her blush so easily and she tried to hide it by blustering in mock offence,

"You promised you'd never speak of that,"

"I think you'll find I simply mimed zipping my mouth shut and throwing away the key. Not the same."

Safety in teasing. The familiar back and forth verbal sparring was like a comfort blanket,

"Privileged information shouldn't be used during a serious negotiation. Then again maybe it reinforces that you should go into politics instead."

The sassiness and smile meant the sting of the critique never landed and Alex found herself tilting her head back, once again laughing - both at Casey's defensive embarrassment and at herself. When she finally looked back at the redhead again, she allowed herself to feel that blush of happiness inside her.

Trust Casey to be so kind and unwaveringly supportive that Alex was finally able to feel like her professional life wasn’t going to drown her for the first time in months. She'd obviously been looking brighter as Casey started to tug at her arms,

"Come on, let's go to bed, there's plenty time for plotting career development after we've been able to rest this weekend."

Alex let herself finally slip off the counter, Casey automatically reaching out and steadying her as her legs wobbled having gone a little numb being on the cold surface for so long,

"Can we sleep in? I'd like an easy morning just wrapped up with you."

"Of course, but how about a walk around the park later on? Some fresh air and reminding you of what the world outside your office looks like might do you good?" Alex slipped under the covers, turned on her side, watching, as she waited for Casey to also settle so she could cuddle up onto her shoulder,

"That sounds nice,"

I'd go anywhere, so long as you’re with me.

Marry me, marry me, marry me.

Casey turned her face just enough to press a soft kiss to Alex’s temple, just like she always did,

“No more worrying about the future till Monday okay?”

My future is you, please.

“’kay,”

“And whilst I may not have that fancy wine, we could always try make some gingerbread tomorrow?”

The look of incredulity that Alex shot Casey as they settled under the covers, the blonde instantly seeking to rest her head on Casey’s chest, made Casey smirk knowingly,

“I’ll do the baking, even you can’t destroy the kitchen decorating gingerbread cookies sweetheart.”

So as she huffed – both at the never-ending but entirely accurate dig at her lack of cooking skills but also that her chosen pillow kept on moving as Casey failed to suppress her laughter at Alex’s expense – Alex thought that actually she felt better than she had in weeks, maybe months.

All because of the woman next to her – managing that dance of space and persistence so astutely that Alex finally knew that whilst there was a tidal wave of life choices coming her way faster than she necessarily wanted, there was a life raft within her reach, already under her cheek actually.

Just before sleep finally claimed her she resolved herself – as Alex Cabot only could – that tomorrow, well tomorrow she was going to ask Casey to marry her. That, and she would decorate those gingerbread cookies so good. They would be the best damn fucking cookies Casey had ever seen. Besides, what damage could she really do with icing sugar?

#casey novak x alex cabot #Calex #established calex #Casey Novak #Alex Cabot #fluff #domestic #law and order: svu #law and order ladies #fanfiction #my writing #I solemnly swear i will write part 2 super soon

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apixrl · 4 years ago

Text

MORNING CUDDLES.

eijirou kirishima x fem!reader

WARNING(S): none

word count: 2.8k

note(s): eiji and his partner call each other love 25/8 and no u cannot tell me otherwise >:(

italian translation - translator !!

Beep beep. Beep beep. Beep beep.

Your hand snuck its way out from under the duvet, blindly searching for your phone in order to shut off the nuisance that was your alarm. Once you did, you slowly let your eyes drift open and meet the blank canvas of the ceiling above.

The sun was peeking through the blinds off to the left side, causing streaks of light to form on your bedroom walls and bed itself. None of them obstructed your vision luckily, there was nothing worse than lying in bed only to have the sun blind you. A light snore interrupted your tiredness and caused your eyes to open wider, directing them off to the right to meet that of your boyfriend, Eijirou.

As per usual, he looked at peace during his state of slumber. His mouth hung slightly open to reveal his iconic sharpened teeth as snores broke through them. His usual gelled up hair was now ironed down to structure his face and practically conceal it with the amount there. It swept over one of his eyes - though didn't stop the scar on his right one peeking through. The rest of his hair was mushed up between his cheek and the pillow his head lay on.

You smiled at the sight, losing yourself in his handsomeness for a moment before leaning forwards to peck his forehead softly. You then pulled back the covers on your side, making an effort (reluctantly) to sit yourself up and swing your legs over the end of the bed. Just as you were about to find the means to stand, something tugged you back causing you to gasp. It was only when Eijirou's voice hit your ear that you processed what happened.

"Morning," The redhead let out, voice hoarse and deeper than usual to signal the classic case of morning croak, something you always loved to hear first thing. An arm snaked around your front to pull you back against Eijirou's abdomen. With a little smile, you turned your face to the love of your life, who was tiredly gazing at you.

"Good morning," You faintly sang. "Did you sleep well?"

"Mhhm," Eijirou replied, using his spare hand to reach up and rub his waking eyes at the same time as he released a mighty yawn. "You?"

"Like a baby," Was your answer as Eijirou allowed his hand to gently graze your forearm affectionately. You hummed softly, not wanting to move one bit from the comfort. If anything, you would have liked to have remained under his touch the entire day. Something about his subtle physical signs of adoration brought you head over heels for him, even more so than you already were. But you knew it couldn't last forever. So after a minute of sweet quiet, you proceeded to shift forwards to try and get up. Only to find the grip on you tighten and a disgruntled noise of protest to leave Eijirou's throat.

"Love, I gotta get up," You spoke and turned back to him with a sigh. "I've got that meeting at 10, remember?"

"No," Was the only thing you received back from your partner. Eijirou looked up gently into your E/C eyes. "Five more minutes?"

At first, you went to say a flat no, mainly because you'd expected him to act like this despite knowing full well you were going out. But you eventually concluded on a compromise to try and be smart about it. Fingers playing with the sheets of your bed, you spoke up once more.

"How about you let me go grab us a hot drink and then five more minutes?" It seemed to do the trick. Eijirou paused in thought before gently mumbling an 'okay', the grip on you loosening to give you the freedom to stand up. Once you stood upright you looked back to Eijirou, who was following your every move through tired red eyes.

"I'll come back in sec okay?"

"You better,"

This clingy side to Eijirou usually came out on the first day or two of him having time off work. Since he was a Pro-Hero he could sometimes be working days on end without a break, so moments like this the pair of you really treasured to maintain a healthy relationship. You smiled during your trip to the kitchen, his touch still on your mind as you started to prepare yourself a steaming F/H/D and a simple black coffee for Eijirou.

On your way back to the bedroom you made a pit stop to go to the toilet and somewhat freshen yourself up. All you did was brush your hair and wash your face (you planned to do make-up later) and then you were heading back to Eijirou. You opened the door with your foot since both hands were occupied by mugs.

"I told you I wasn't going to be long,"

"It was too long," His voice came from the bundle of covers, a head poking out from under as you saw a flash of a toothy grin. It was more tired than usual but still held the same passion nonetheless.

"Somebody's impatient,"

"Whatever. Now let me use you as a pillow," Eijirou uttered, waiting for you to put the drinks down and to get into bed. Pulling back the cream covers of your shared bed you were soon engulfed by arms as a head found refuge on your chest.

"Happy?" You said with a laugh. Eijirou nodded and let his eyes close, listening to the sound of your heartbeat against his cheek with a soft grin. He then felt himself get even more at home when your fingertips guided themselves to play with the ends of his hair.

"Yes,"

---

"Come on, Eijirou... I need to go get ready," You whined, rolling your eyes at the silence you received back. Only the soft and light pecks of kisses landing on your shoulder blade signalled Eijirou's distraction, almost pretending to be deaf for his own personal benefit. You rolled back in order to make him stop, looking up at Eijirou in protest. At first, he sent you a nearly offended gaze at daring to make such a movement, claiming he wasn't finished and had intentions of carrying on. Though slowly his jaw altered to a pout, reaching to tuck some hair behind your ear.

"Do you have to go?" Eijirou mumbled and leaned down to peck your lips.

"Yes, I do," You answered.

"Can't you just call in sick or something?"

"I already did that three weeks ago... so probably not,"

"Please?"

"I said I can't. Now get up, lazy bones,"

You went to get up once more, this time forcing yourself through the gripping fingers and hands of Eijirou to escape the bed. When you came out successful you released a small laugh of triumph much to Eijirou's dismay. It was there you walked to your closet and took the clothes hanging over the door on a clothing hanger, looking back at Eijirou whose face had now emerged further from under the covers to watch you.

"Is it even an important meeting, love?" Eijirou said, eyes following as you shuffled back to the bed and put the clothes at the bottom. You released a sigh as you turned to put the clothing hanger back in the closet, not aware of the cheap move Eijirou made when you weren't looking and instead answered his question.

"Not really? But because I missed the last one - no thanks to you, I think it'd be better I should get to this one," Wandering back to the bed, slipping off the shirt you'd stolen off Eijirou the night before as you did, Eijirou rolled his eyes and undermined your words.

"So... miss this one and go to the next,"

"As I recall you said that last time and promised you wouldn't say it when it occurred again... but here we are," There was a little smirk on your face when you caught him rolling his eyes, and in response, you playfully tossed the shirt you'd had on at the redhead. Eijirou snickered and managed to catch it before it hit his face, going to crumple it into a ball and place it next to him.

"You throw like a girl,"

"And you scream like one, doofus,"

"I'm not a doofus... doofus,"

Eijirou couldn't help but smirk in amusement at you, his face lighting up all the more into a bright beam when he heard a laugh release on your part. You were just finishing buttoning up your collar shirt as Eijirou watched, arms crossing over his chest. He cocked his head back against the headrest as well as to the side in thought.

"I ever tell you that you look good in shirts like that?" The redhead stated, receiving a glare that had formed on your face.

"Don't you get any ideas,"

"Wasn't suggesting any, just stating the obvious," He raised his arms in defence as you sat down on the bed by his legs, reaching for the blazer.

"That's also something you said last time and look what happened there - wait where's my...?" You were one sleeve through your blazer when you noticed that one of your pieces of clothing was missing. The navy blue pencil skirt that matched your top half to be more specific. You looked behind and around you, and also to the closet thinking you forgot to grab it with everything else, proceeding to frown in thought.

You swore you hung it up there and -

With a heavy exhale, you felt your body twist around and turn to a particularly quiet Eijirou sitting behind you.

His expression read it all like he was trying to be both obvious and mysterious all in one go in order to get you to question him. It most definitely worked, a hand meeting your hip as you stood upright and quirked a quizzical brow.

"Eiji?"

"Hm? What is it, dearest?"

"Can I have my skirt back please?"

"What do you mean? I don't have your skirt," His growing smirk and amusement in his eyes betrayed his words, refusing to make eye contact with you in a playful manner you'd seen countless times before.

"Okay, so where is it then?"

"I don't know," He innocently shrugged. "Maybe the skirt fairy came and took it,"

"The skirt fairy," You repeated, disbelief laced in your voice.

"Yep," He said through a laugh. "I don't know what to tell you, love. There can't be any other explanation,"

"Just give me back my skirt before I get behind on time,"

"I don't have it,"

"Yes, you do,"

"No, I don't,"

"Don't make me jump you, bitch,"

"I honestly wouldn't com- oof!"

Before Eijirou could finish his sentence, he only just managed to catch you when you pounced at him without remorse. Luckily he just managed to protect himself and readjusted your intended position, victoriously smirking up at you and pointing a finger.

"Hah! Not this time!"

"I hate you sometimes,"

"No, you don't. You love me,"

"I swear to god -," You let out, arms crossing over your chest. Eijirou had sat you on top of him, legs on either side of him as he remained under the covers. "Can I please just have my skirt back?"

"You mean the one that's under the sheets by my feet?" He blankly stated, letting his hands rest themselves on your hips quite comfortably. He couldn't help but laugh at your less than amused expression.

"Why can't you just let me get ready?"

"I'm not stopping you... I'm just making it more difficult,"

"Educate me on how?"

"Well the only way to get your skirt is to get back into bed... and if you get back into bed I'm not letting you get back out,"

"You're really being this persistent, hm?"

"Maybe a little more than intended,"

You hopelessly sighed, looking at the ceiling with a mental cry of both impatience and leisure. The inner want to go to your wardrobe and pull out a fresh skirt was the easy way out, yes, but the temptation of the game Eijirou intended to play was getting to you more than expected. That and you knew he wouldn't let you simply get off him, the grip on your waist not only implying endearing affection.

Eijirou raised his voice, reeling you back to his attention. Despite your annoyance, you did make an effort to admire his features. From his loose hair to his fixed jawline where the tint of a smirk riddled with confidence rested. The pretty glow in his carmine gaze drew you in each time without a fault. He was so undeniably attractive, no doubt about it.

"You know what sounds fun?"

"What?" Partly having a sense of what was to leave his lips.

"If you...," He paused as he subtly cocked his head at you. "Stayed in bed and cuddled with me all morning," Another pause. "Because I haven't seen you in four or five days and I miss you,"

"But we watched a movie and spent some time together last night knowing I was going out today,"

"Yeah but... you're cute on a morning,"

"Opposed to other times when I'm not?" It was Eijirou's turn to send you a little glare in protest before he returned to his pleading nature.

"You're cute all the time,"

Yet another few seconds of quiet.

"Just - stay with me today? And do your meeting-thingy tomorrow?"

"You, Eijirou Kirishima, are going to be the death of me," Leaning down to rest your forehead on Eijirou's shoulder whilst releasing a long groan from the back of your throat. Maybe not so great of an idea since that allowed him to wrap you right into his grasp, you held yourself there briefly as he allowed his fingertips to mess with your hair.

"Probably," Eijirou mumbled softly, tilting his head against yours as he once again let his touch wander. The unexpected cuddle definitely didn't go unnoticed as you pondered in your position, practically ready to fall asleep when Eijirou started to rub up and down your back. Like a moth to a flame, he had you wrapped around his finger, knowing that in the end, he was always going to get his own way. Of course, in other circumstances, he'd usually let you win. But not when it came to morning cuddles.

Definitely not when it came to morning cuddles.

As if waiting for you to talk, Eijirou stared into your strands of H/C hair whilst inhaling the scent of coconut from the shampoo you used the evening prior. He expectantly caressed your hip, his final attempt to win you over confidently coming to a climax at the word that exited your mouth.

"Fine,"

You could practically feel the smirk against the back of your head as Eijirou's touch became all the more prominent and rewarding. He let one of his arms extend out to grab your phone, handing it over to you as you hesitantly sat up with a hotness to your cheeks and found the contact of your workplace.

Eijirou simply watched you the whole time, taking you all in like he was casting gaze upon you for the first time. No matter how many times that happened, he still managed to find you all the more beautiful. He ran a hand through his flattened hair and exhaled merrily as he let your voice sink into his ears, watching the smile on your face grow as you caught him looking.

"Yeah - Again, I'm really sorry I can't make it, Eijirou caught something whilst working and he's bound to the bed cause' of it," You held up crossed fingers in hopes you wouldn't sound like you were lying, glancing at your boyfriend who appeared to chuckle.

And yet again your lie went unnoticed. The call was over in seconds, tossing your phone to the empty side of the bed.

"Why'd you say I was sick?"

"Because if I said it was me they'd probably ask about the last time you forced me to stay off, and how often I'm apparently unwell,"

"Right,"

"But, it looks like you got your way," You said, going to change out the white shirt to put your pyjama shirt back on, placing the work clothes to the bottom of the bed as Eijirou waited patiently.

"Come," Was all he said once you looked back at him, opening his arms for you to sink into. Which you did, reaching that comfortable position within his grasp as though you belonged there. Except this time, Eijirou directed your face towards his, pulling your lips to his in one smooth addicting manner that you felt butterflies in your stomach for.

In the meantime your drinks were disregarded as the clock ticked on, the pair of you forgetting their presence on the bedside table. The steam soon dissipated to nothing the cooler the fluids got.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you,"

He could sense the smile that formed on your lips.

"I love you too,"

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero x reader #x reader #fluff #oneshot #kirishima #kirishima fluff #kirishima x y/n #kirishima x you

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13atoms · 4 years ago

Text

Slippery Fingers [Dhawan!Master x Reader]

Took longer than I expected, and I haven’t written smut in forever so forgive it being a little rusty, but here’s the Dh!Master smut which (barely) won the oneshot fic vote!

Also sorry if you’re a massage therapist, we’re on a different planet so I’m hoping the now-defunct word ‘masseuse’ is still in-vogue there!

Contents: Happy Ending Massage from an alien, Smut, Jealousy, yet another unsuccessful trip to a spa planet. [8k]

“You never take me anywhere fun!” You had pouted, pushing the Master’s buttons as he researched yet another scheme.

In truth, he did take you places fun. At least, places he thought were fun. But in all of time and space, there had to be more relaxing ways to have fun than overthrowing monarchies and trying to instigate political disasters.

He’d tried taking you hiking, once, but both of you had complained an hour in. He was bored, you were too sweaty, and no one was enjoying themselves. He’d teleported the pair of you back to the TARDIS, and you’d robbed a weapon store instead.

Still, you were determined he should take you somewhere fun.

The Master’s raised an eyebrow, a concealed smile making his lips twitch.

“A theme park, a beach, a… um… a waterpark? I’ll wear something revealing?” you teased, knowing he would never take you up on the offer.

The flirtation the two of you engaged with was frustratingly endless – just a bit of fun.

You relished in the way his eyes couldn’t meet yours, as he considered your suggestions. Maybe imagined them, too.

“Sounds boring,” he finally commented.

“What’s boring about a little hedonistic fun?”

He smiled, striding across the outback-interior of his TARDIS to finally meet you beside the console. Good. Co-ordinates were being set, the screens displaying a stream of impossibly fast information in a language you couldn’t read.

The Master was planning something.

“Hedonism is about pleasure, dearest,” he ground out the last word, and it made you smile.

You refrained from making the ‘old married couple’ joke that so many strangers made on your travels, because it rang a little too true.

“Yeah?”

“And if you’re in the mood for hedonism, you won’t find that pleasure in an amusement park.”

You raised your eyebrows, leaning against the console very intentionally, so his fingers had to brush your hip to flick the switches he needed. He shot you a knowing glance, as his hand lingered a little too long.

“Where will I find pleasure, Master?”

For a beat he paused, his lips parted and somehow inviting, mere inches from yours. Then he leant forwards, only to whisper.

“A spa.”

You felt the tension in the room pop, blown-bubblegum pierced by a pin and flying back into your face. Sticky and shocking and unpleasant. It took you a second to remember where you were – and who you were with. A retort came uncomfortably slowly, and you startled as the TARDIS began to dematerialise.

“Still trying to get me in a bathing suit?”

The Master winked.

As you stepped off the TARDIS, you found yourself in a stiflingly warm room, reaching for the Master’s arm subconsciously as he offered it.

All around you was a plush whiteness, creams and sterile surfaces somehow designed in such a way that the space felt both perfectly welcoming and clean. The TARDIS door locked quietly behind you, disguised as an inconspicuous cupboard, as the Master chose a direction to walk.

“This is one of the most exclusive spas in the whole quadrant – horrendously expensive.”

“Want to split the bill?” you teased, knowing damn well he’d never let you pay for anything.

Not that you could. What was the currency here? Credits? You’d never even considered it.

He gave you a laugh, tightening his hold on your arm as a lavender-skinned member of staff walked past you in mint-green scrubs, politely avoiding looking at you. They were a clear foot taller than the Master, and you tried not to stare.

“I hacked their systems to check,” the time lord boasted, “and it’s the quietest day they’ve ever had. We’re the only patrons.”

“That doesn’t seem very time-travel safe,” you chided, remembering the phrase from the countless times he’d warned you against doing something to change a timeline.

He rolled his eyes, and you couldn’t help smiling fondly.

“It’s okay when I do it,” he sniffed.

Finally, you had found some kind of reception desk.

With nothing more than a smile and a few nods to the softly-spoken receptionist, you watched as the Master handed over a payment stick and arranged everything. You found yourself handed a dressing gown as white as the rest of the décor in this place, and so fluffy and warm you immediately pressed it against your face, much to the Master’s fond amusement.

“It’s really soft,” you explained, and he rolled his eyes.

“Go get changed.”

In the end, the cubicles you were offered to for changing were adjacent, and you were quite glad you didn’t have to offer any kind of gender-segregated spa-experience. The Master chattered away as the two of you showered and changed, spa employees silently arriving to administer all manner of hair and skin treatments before you enjoyed the rest of the facilities.

Hair conditioned and skin moisturised, you emerged from the cubicle to see the Master in just a dressing gown – mirroring yours – and the sight made you strangely uneasy. It wasn’t often he dressed down. Certainly never willingly, as far as you could remember. With conditioner combed into his hair and beard, a treatment across his nose, he had never looked less threatening.

You bit your lip to stifle a laugh which he clearly expected, already glowering at you.

“Come on,” he complained, heading for the next room.

He didn’t offer you an arm, but he did hold the door open. As you brushed past him, you noticed they’d combed the hair treatment into his eyebrows. You wondered if choosing the quietest day in history hadn’t been – as you assumed – for your benefit. His pride seemed a little wounded.

“It’s good to relax!” You reassured him, holding out your arm. He ignored it.

“For humans, perhaps.”

You leant into his shoulder briefly, trying to wind him up.

“Even big scary time lords need a break! Though, you do have a disappointingly tame interpretation of hedonism.”

“I was thinking of bodily pleasure, darling.” he purred, “I’m sorry if this doesn’t meet your exacting standards.”

Trying to ignore the rush his implication sent through you, you kept your eyes trained on the soft carpet ahead. How do they keep it so clean? I suppose no one wears shoes here.

“But I’ll ask you to reserve judgement until you’ve seen how good the massage therapists are. I believe on earth you might call it sinful.”

With a contented hum, you walked with him to the open treatment room.

As you sat in adjacent chairs, you realised just how naked both of you were, both adjusting your robes to cover yourself as a receptionist approached. She explained everything rapidly, and the Master nodded in understanding. You trusted he would reiterate anything important – you were distracted by the bare slice of his thigh he kept fidgeting to cover.

In lieu of clipboards they handed you tablet-style devices, which seemed familiar enough. The prices of the treatments seemed huge, but the Master told you to ignore them. Maybe the currency here was just inflated. The Master never seemed bothered, at any rate.

He was scrolling through his own options, and you knew he struggled to allow himself to go through anything that might seem self-care-y. The parallel massage tables set up ahead of you seemed to suggest you would be in the room with him, and privately you hoped he might allow himself to relax, to trust a highly-skilled stranger, with you right there.

“What are you getting?” you asked, curiously looking at his screen.

The options were all described luxuriously, with various options for oils and smells and styles, different firmnesses of touch and different problem areas the therapists could focus on. You were settled on some focus on your left thigh, the lingering ache of a muscle there had been bothering you since you’d fallen running from an enraged palace guard last week. Besides that, you had no idea what to select.

“Just something standard,” the Master told you non-committally, and you marvelled at how embarrassing this seemed to be for him.

Then, something caught your eye.

“What are these options?”

You pointed on your own tablet, pointing to one of the most expensive options at the bottom of the page.

Indulgent twenty-minute full body muscle release with Lerimoya blossom oil, Akesian-style massage and skin treatment. Completed with sexual release and relaxing cool-down.

The Master’s jaw seemed to clench minutely, but you pretended to ignore it.

“Exactly what it says,” he told you curtly.

You scrolled back up to the top of the options, taking a moment to consider his bluntness. You had to admit… there was something very tempting about it. Getting yourself off on the TARDIS made you nervous – a living ship with a consciousness watching you bite back moans as you masturbated a deeply un-erotic thought each time you remembered it. But this was clinical. Self-care.

The Master was a ceaseless flirt, but seemed unable to deliver on his gazes and winks and comments. You needed something.

“Isn’t that… taboo here?”

“As common as a back rub, love.”

His curtness hadn’t ceased, and it irritated you for some reason. So much for being relaxed.

The time lord had impatiently clicked some arbitrary option at the top of his list, no doubt the shortest massage he could get away with. He was already clicking his tongue, holding the device out to be collected by the receptionist. You took a deep breath.

He was always telling you to take what you want and be hedonistic. You scrolled down quickly, selecting the option, selecting the areas of your body which hurt (not least that damn thigh) before holding out the device.

You could feel his eyes on you, your cheeks burning, and some deep part of you igniting at the thought of what was about to happen. You were looking forward to it, you realised. So much.

“Chosen something expensive?” he ground out, the joke landing flat as his tone seemed oddly monotonous.

“If you’re paying, then of course.”

It was only as the tablets were taken gently from you by a kindly receptionist that you remembered the massage room would be shared. A screen seemed to have appeared silently between the massage tables, and you hoped your look of appreciation was understood by the alien.

There was something surreal about being asked to undress just a screen away from the Master, knowing he was doing the same on the other side, mere feet away as the lights dimmed and incense burned.

The spa workers were softly spoken and considerate, putting you at ease immediately as you lay down, feeling acutely aware of your body against the table. You weren’t sure where to put your arms, fidgeting, until warm oily hands smoothed them down by your sides, and you fought your instincts in order to stay still.

You wondered how the Master was doing. He wasn’t the best at letting other people touch him. At being vulnerable. He hated leaving his back exposed, always afraid someone would stab him in it.

You thought, for a moment, about trying to talk to him.

Would that be rude? Would it help him?

But talking felt uncomfortable, laying like this, and you couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

As large, warm hands started their work on your bare back, you let all thought of conversation go. You closed your eyes, feeling the smooth, gentle release of your muscles as they were expertly relaxed. The larger frames of the aliens here seemed to make them strong, pressure spread across fingertips which felt human-enough, the smell and warmth of the room tempting you near sleep, wringing soft noises of approval from you which you didn’t bother to conceal.

The time seemed to stretch on forever, in a delicious, in-urgent way you rarely experienced with the Master. He was always in a rush, unable to stand still even with a time machine.

This was, you conceded, luxurious and hedonistic: pleasure above all else. Pure self-indulgence. The pursuit of nothing but feeling good.

You could almost forget he was there. Soft music and the gentle movements of the massage therapists were the only sounds, until suddenly he was there again. For seconds at a time, in small noises, his presence seemed looming. The shifting of his beard against the table beneath him, a grunt of discomfort as a knot was released in his back, once a snap to not touch my neck.

He settled, soon enough, his treatment seeming more painful and intense than yours. You could hear the slap of skin onto his, the breath forced from his lungs as a considerable force was applied to his body. You tried to tune it out, each time the masseuse seemed to be hurting him. Likely by his own choice, you lamented. It was short, too. Your massage therapist had only just begun to work on the ache in your thigh, doing a marvellous job of easing the pain, when his massage was slowly finished.

Your body felt as though it was melting into the table, pleasantly warm with the oil and the heat of the room. Only because you strained your ears, you heard his masseuse leave the room, with a gentle instruction to lay still until they returned.

It was strangely difficult to enjoy the rest of your massage as you wondered what he was thinking about, just laying there. You had feared he might ignore their instructions and move, but he seemed to be behaving himself for the day.

A gentle murmur of “turn over for me” brought you back to your body, made your eyes snap open and a sudden rush of blood to the head caused you to feel disoriented.

“Take your time,” the massage therapist coaxed, as their soft hands guided you in turning slowly, careful not to let you fall off the table.

You had forgotten what was coming next.

The low murmur of something indiscernible started, a humming noise you soon tuned out, as hands found their way across your stomach. You felt yourself clench at the contact. This was different. Slower, more sensual touches, beyond the realm of what you would consider professional. You bit your lip, toying with stopping the treatment early, until you realised the source of the quiet buzzing.

As one huge hand began to knead at your breast, the other reached for the slipperiness between your legs.

Vibrations against your clit made you gasp, their expertly firm touches pulling you lazily yet inevitably closer towards orgasm. Your entire body felt dragged along with the certainty of a current in a river, moved as surely as gravity, pleasure growing stronger and stronger. As fingers pried your willing, limp legs apart, you let your hands roam your own oily skin, no longer caring about the noises you let slip past your lips, the quiet begs for more.

The calls of yes, please, fuck.

For a second, the Master’s fidgeting pulled you back into the room, making you gasp. But then the buzzing sped up, rubbing fingers joining it, and your mind went blank.

The Master grit his teeth, knowing nothing good could come from letting you tick that stupid box. It had been a kind of dare, a test of whether you’d actually do it. He thought he’d been playing good odds, in truth, even as a feeling of something uneasy had risen in his stomach at the thought of it.

A happy ending massage.

Or rather, you receiving a happy ending massage.

Perhaps he’d underestimated his own fondness of the pure art pleasure seeking, because his barely-relaxed body was already tensing again just listening to the hum of whatever tool they were using to finish the complete sexual release you had requested.

The whole time that damn alien had been abusing the muscles of his back, he had been wondering what you’d selected. If you actually had the nerve to go through with it. The treatment was popular here, he knew. In fact, the spa was famous for it. Famously good at it. Human anatomy and human pleasure were close enough to theirs that the richest interstellar-travellers from earth colonies would begin to arrive just a few years from the date he had chosen. They would all be seeking out the exact treatment which had caught your eye.

A strange thing to be famous for, he supposed, but popular. Certainly lucrative, and – was that moan?

It felt like it lasted an eternity, listening to how those… creatures finished their supposed-treatment, moans and calls and staccato words leaving your voice with a keening, sensual desperation he had never heard from you before. The slick sounds of your body had accompanied the buzzing of that device in the most insufferable symphony he had ever heard. He had considered leaving, so many times, gritting his teeth and trying to school his body into nonchalance as you finally came. The Master tried to block it out as you moaned, and laughed, and thanked the massage therapist, and apologised for thanking them… joked with the alien, no doubt glowing and coated with sweat and oil, flushed, your pants filling the room alongside contented hums.

He wondered why he couldn’t stand it.

“I’ll leave you for a few minutes to calm down,” the massage therapist had told you gently, and he had grimaced as you gave a breathy, giggling reply.

“I think I’ll need it.”

Then they were alone. And nothing should have changed dammit, and yet everything had. And he damned Rassilion and all those other bastards who decided time lords should be sexless and uncomfortable naked because fuck nothing had prepared him for this, no matter how much he pretended he was nothing like them.

He loathed to admit when humans were better than him at something, but in this situation, he longed to be the kind of species who could meet your eye after this.

You laughed again, suddenly, airily, and he wondered if that was supposed to be some kind of cue for him to say something.

Something witty.

Something clever.

Something him.

“All okay?” he choked out.

He was still on his front, and frankly dreading standing to change, and he wondered how you were laying. On your back, still, he presumed. All sticky and sweaty and mile-a-minute heartbeat like humans tended to be. He could smell pheromones from here, loathing his body for how he was reacting.

Yet another reason to dread standing.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” you called back, so obviously sated and giggly from just your voice.

“It was exactly what you chose, love.”

The pet name sounded unnatural, forced, and he prayed you were too whacked out on hormones to notice. The spa worker slunk back into the room, and he took a moment to hate them, to hate those fingers which had been slippery and clever all over you. His stomached clenched as he wondered if they’d been inside of you.

As the lavender and mint form disappeared between the divider, the Master shoved his face roughly back against the table.

This room is too hot, he grumbled silently to himself, stupid human temperatures.

He wondered if you were cold, your skin risen in goosebumps, or if you were warm. Pliable. Slippery and soft and –

“How are you feeling?”

“Perfect.”

He could hear the stupid smile in your voice.

“Glad to hear it, if you’re ready to stand for me…”

The Master couldn’t help the furrow of his forehead, the dig of his fingernails into the soft surface of the table. Then he heard the matching gasps of you and the massage therapist, half-way pushing himself up to run around there and save you from whatever had happened and… you were fine.

Laughing, apologising for being lightheaded, saved from falling by the spa worker who had righted you. They were coaxing you to be slow, to be careful, and suddenly the Master was remembering the times he’d bellowed at you to go faster. To push your human physiology, to keep up with him. He could hear his own rough shouts, loud and harsh enough that they had made everyone around you wince with sympathy.

Then, he wondered why those thoughts were in his mind. And why that pang of guilt was making his hearts ache.

His damned masseuse had come back, no doubt from a smoke break or a lunch break or whatever these purple creatures did, helping him quickly into his robe. They offered him far less comfort than your massage therapist seemed to think was appropriate, still fussing and saying goodbye on the other side of the stupid divider.

He waved them away with a curt “good, yes, thank you.”

Then, he found himself looking straight at you.

And he couldn’t stand it.

The Master led you from the room with a military stride, taking some twisted pleasure in how you jogged to trail behind him.

“I can see why this is so popular,” you smiled, legs a little weak and your entire body feeling raw underneath your gown.

The Master ignored you.

The softness of the material was slightly tacky against your oily skin and you pulled it closer as you trailed behind the Master, enjoying a slight giddiness and feeling lightheaded, toes digging into the carpet as you took slow steps.

He seemed in a rush to get to the pool, swinging the door open, ignoring you as he let it swing closed after him.

The cloudy water of an oversized pool was pink tinted and sweetly aromatic, none of the chlorine smell you would expect on earth. You took in the fragrance with an indulgent sigh, refusing to give up your relaxation, even as a nagging feeling refused to leave you.

The Master was unhappy.

He waited for you to look away before quickly sliding into the water, chest-deep as he rested his elbows against the poolside behind him. He looked straight ahead as you disrobed and slid into the water beside him, the emptiness of the whole complex striking you yet again, as a sole employee passed whisper-quiet through the room.

The high vaulted ceiling was as simply designed as the rest of the complex, beautiful in its simplicity, and you looked up at it as you moved slowly through the warm water.

“Are you okay?” you asked the ceiling, hoping the Master might deign to answer instead.

He hummed, something affirmative and insincere. You let yourself float back, buoyant in the cloudy water, your toes breaking the water near the Master. He regarded you with a judgemental curl of his lip, before fixing his eyes on the wall opposite.

“Enjoying yourself?”

The Master didn’t reply, he just scoffed. You pouted, the water lapping at your face, paddling to stop yourself drifting into him.

“Just trying to have a conversation,” you grumbled.

Your words rolled off him like the sweat off his forehead, oil and water mixing on both of your skin, the heat of the room just a few degrees shy of stifling.

“Does this feel warmer to you, because you’re colder?”

He nodded. You rolled your eyes at him, finally standing in the water, crouching a little to keep your shoulders covered by the flat surface of it. You waded towards him, closing in on his personal space until the underwater bump of his leg against yours made you stop.

“Too hot?”

“Fine,” he ground out, rolling his head back towards the side of the pool.

You glimpsed the sweat and oil on his neck as you let your eyes drift over him, knowing he wouldn’t catch you while his gaze was trained on the ceiling.

“You’re in a bad mood.”

“I’m not.”

“Are.”

He gave an exasperated exhale, pinching his nose, and you watched the movement of his shoulders as he shifted his weight. You’d never seen so much bare skin, and you couldn’t help staring.

Sidling closer to him, you felt the brush of your leg against his once again, not recoiling. The Master tensed, and you ended up beside him by the pool.

“You are.”

All but whispering in his ear, you grinned as a shudder passed through him. The Master didn’t find it as funny, flopping his arm back beside him, wincing as it brushed your bare breast. He pulled away at lightspeed, shaky and sudden in his movements. You were getting to him.

He kept his lips tightly sealed, teeth clenched, making the muscles of his jaw bulge slightly beneath his beard.

A door opened, intended to be quiet but deafening in the tense room.

The Master snapped his eyes open at the noise, before moving away from you. He ducked his head underwater, rubbing product and oil from his face, before re-emerging with his fringe plastered to his face.

You laughed as he tried to brush the hair from his eyes, and that was the final straw.

“You’re insufferable sometimes,” he snapped.

The Master marched to the side of the pool, soaking his robe in his eagerness to cover himself as he climbed the steps, turning to face you for just long enough to reveal something unsettling in his glare.

“I’ll wait in the TARDIS. Don’t hurry.”

His curt words remained in the room longer than him, echoing as the door closed itself softly behind his indignantly retreating form.

“Grumpy,” you sighed to the vaulted ceiling, floating on your back, and wishing that high ceiling housed the consciousness of the TARDIS.

At least when you argued on the TARDIS, you knew the ship was (usually) on your side. Maybe her gentle hum would have alleviated your guilt.

You managed to float in the pool a little longer, swimming for a bit, trying to relax. It was no use. With a mournful last duck under the water, you emerged from the pool, not hurrying to cover yourself now you were alone.

What had the Master been so pissed off by, you wondered. Hadn’t he known what this place was like? His research was usually meticulous – in fact you suspected he tended towards places he had been before when planning days out for you. Was it the nakedness? The touch of a stranger, in that massage parlour? Or simply the strangeness of a place devoid of stress and terror and chaos.

You’d thought about your life with him a lot, of late. About how you couldn’t just keep seeing the darkness of the universe. Perhaps it was naïve, but you had hoped that his recent movements towards flirting with you might have been the start of a few nicer trips. Of something a bit… more with him.

But he was acting like the bastard you’d first known, no longer softer, kinder, towards you.

Somewhere the two of you had taken steps backwards. And now he was fighting with you at a spa, of all places.

You pulled the robe tighter around you, gave a passing member of staff a tight smile, as you found the cupboard door which led to the TARDIS.

Deep breath, you told yourself.

Stepping into a different dimension always felt a little disorientating, but the TARDIS was your home now. Welcoming in her warmer, yellow light as the door closed behind you and cut off the spa’s true white lights and pristine décor.

You saw the form of the Master the second you stepped inside, the first thing your eye was drawn to. He was in a different gown, a thicker, longer one. Dark purple like his coat, and just as modest in its coverage.

He was leaning heavily on the console, hunched over with his hair messily towel-dried and barely styled. He’d clearly made some attempt, then gotten frustrated.

“Sorry for being annoying earlier,” you tried to weakly joke.

The Master didn’t even turn to regard you, he just tensed his shoulders, leaning defensively closer to the ship’s console.

“You still reek of that oil,” he spat, “and hormones.”

Even across the room, you took a step back from him. You pulled self-consciously at the neck of your robe, hoping he couldn’t see how genuinely shaken you were.

You couldn’t reply, biting down a surge of emotion at his rejection and turning from him, inspecting a side table by the door. The TARDIS sent a wave of comfort through you, but it only made things harder.

Highlighted what her pilot wouldn’t give you.

After a few seconds of silence the Master whirled around, a furrow in his brow.

“Say something.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. You had nothing to say to him.

He strode closer to you, and you stepped back again, closer to the doors.

“I’m sorry!” you blurted out, an uncertainty in your tone which made the Master take pause.

“Why?”

You didn’t know.

You didn’t know why you were meant to be sorry.

“For upsetting you. Whatever I did, I…”

You trailed off as the Master regarded you for a second, something approaching genuine conflict on his face as he fully took in your appearance. Wet hair, dressing gown tightly around your skin, shivering from the change in temperature… you wondered what he saw.

He sighed heavily.

“‘Whatever you did’?”

The words weren’t cruel. It was a question. But he could be terrifying, even in a bath robe. And you watched his eyes, looking for a trick or a spark of something more troubling.

He was searching your eyes too, looking for sincerity. For some kind of comfort.

“You took me there, and I really don’t know what I did… why you hated it so much. But… I’m guessing it was my fault.”

To your surprise, he pulled you into a gentle hug, cradling your head as he pulled you near to him. He wasn’t squeezing you, your bodies hardly touching. He was just… holding you close to him.

“I don’t like being touched,” he mumbled, his words over your shoulder, like they were trying to evade being heard.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pressure you into –”

“No I just… I don’t like you being touched. Either. It makes me nervous.”

“Nervous?” you echoed back to him.

You felt his fingers twitch against your head, tightening and loosening slightly.

“Maybe… I just… I couldn’t stand them touching you. Or seeing you. I wasn’t expecting that.”

In the silence which passed between you, you wondered if he was mulling over his own words. If he even suspected what you heard in them, the vivid green between the lines of what he’d said: jealousy.

“If there had been anyone else there, other guests, I would’ve made us leave. But you seemed happy and…”

He was struggling. Struggling to articulate himself, maybe even struggling to come to terms which his own motivations.

While bragging and flirting and banter came as easily as breathing to the time lord, sincerity was something much harder.

“You didn’t like being vulnerable?” you prompted, afraid to push him too much.

Something like an awkward, coughing laugh happened in the back of his throat – you only heard it because you were so close to him.

“I suppose you could say that.”

Snaking your arms around him, you pulled the Master closer, feeling your bodies properly together between thick material. He sighed indulgently, and you smiled, face hidden from him.

“You should have said. We could have left,” you tried to comfort him, “tell me, next time. We’ll just leave.”

He gave you the silent treatment again, though you suspected this time it was not unkind. He just genuinely didn’t know what to say.

You tried a different tact, returning to something more familiar.

“You really hate how I smell?” you teased.

He groaned, and you squeezed him just to make him groan more.

“You don’t smell like you.”

That was sweet, you conceded, rubbing his back in a few soft, gentle sweeps across the towelling of his dressing gown. He gulped.

“Did you enjoy your massage?” he asked suddenly, and edge to his words which made the question seem suspiciously loaded.

You tried not to let your wariness show, holding your posture perfectly still.

“I did. It was… intense. Good though. How about you?”

He gave a low laugh, and the knot in your stomach grew tighter, pulled taught by his sudden change in demeanour. He was holding you. In the way he might hold a hostage, not a friend. It made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, made you open your eyes and look across the TARDIS for any sign of danger.

You couldn’t know it, but you suspected that if you tried to walk away his tensed arms would stop you.

“My massage wasn’t nearly as satisfying, if the noises you made were anything to go by, love.”

The laugh you forced was barely loud enough to leave your lips. You felt the Master’s breath on your neck.

“Tell me what they did to you, love.”

“It was just… um… massage oil. And… they did my back. And rubbed that muscle I was complaining about, the one in my thigh. It feels a lot better now, actually.”

The Master stood silently, waiting. More, you could hear him thinking, more, love.

“They turned me over, massaged my front, and then they did the happy ending bit,” you laughed, awkwardness creeping into your tone where you tried so hard to suppress it.

“How did they make you feel?” he asked, an edge to his voice which barrelled straight past the boundaries of flirtation he had set before.

His voice was gravelly, seductive, each word painfully intentional as he whispered the syllables in your ear.

“Good,” you choked out, and he shook his head with a quiet, dark chuckle.

“No, darling, tell me what they made you feel. What did they do?”

Your mouth was dry, the TARDIS and your robe too hot, constricting against your sensitised skin.

You could feel yourself getting wetter, clenching, the faintest, most frustrating waves of pleasure in your clit. The Master was tense all over, and as you fidgeted, you felt him, hard against the front of your thigh.

“They hid you from me. Behind a barrier. Tell me what they did to you.”

In some deep part of your mind, a part which wasn’t clouded by lust and overwhelmed by the Master, pieces clicked into place. How he hated being exposed, but hated you being exposed more. His curtness, after you asked someone else to touch you. You damned him for being too proud to admit what he wanted, before you sought out pleasure elsewhere.

“They made me relaxed,” you began, “so relaxed. With these strong, gentle touches. All over. And then they turned me over, and I was so relaxed, I didn’t even notice how turned on I was getting.”

You paused, hoping the Master wanted to hear your words. That this was what he was asking for. His ragged breath told you enough. In his silence, he seemed to be begging for more. As you spoke, remembering the moment, you could feel your body responding to the memory. Growing wetter at saying it all out loud, at the knowledge the Master was desperately hanging off every word, his own arousal matching yours.

“When I was on my back, it was more oil. All over. Across my chest and my stomach and dripping between my legs and that was when I remembered what I had asked for.”

His grip on you tensed, his body thrumming with energy as it seemed to encircle you, and you forced yourself to conceal a smirk.

“The touches started on my stomach. They were teasing me, working me up. Then they moved to my nipples – I think your massage was done by then,” you pretended to think about it, and your tangent made him press his body against you insistently. You could feel that delicious jealousy, almost making him growl, as you paused.

“The oil was amazing. It smelled amazing and felt… so good. I don’t know if there was something in it, or if the masseuse was just that good,” you felt him shift again, privately delighting in how worked up he was getting.

“Then they had this toy thing. I never saw it, my eyes were closed, but… it was wonderful. I don’t think I’ve ever felt better, I can’t even remember it I just…”

“Came.”

The Master’s hoarse voice felt like it was in your very head, and maybe it was, his telepathy sending a powerful jolt through you as you felt his arousal and jealousy and anger for just a second.

“You let them touch you… those aliens, those strangers –”

“You’re an alien too,” you reminded him, another rush of irritation rushing forwards from him.

“I am the best alien you’ve ever met, love, and you’d do well to remember that.”

He was so close to you, and your skin was so hot, you shivered at the snarl in his words.

“I was right there, and – ” he fumbled for words, and you smiled, pulling against his grip a little so he could see. His eyebrow raised in disapproval.

“You were right there, and what?” you challenged.

The Master shifted on his feet, his arms loosening around you, before he leant in again. His beard brushed the softened skin of your cheek, nuzzling, the slight scratch making you shudder from the rawness of it all. He inhaled deeply, pressing his nose into the swathe of skin beneath your ear, tutting with a condescension that sent a jolt of heat down your body.

“You still reek of sex. Even more now, darling. Do you want to go back? Cheat on me again?”

“I wasn’t aware we were in a relationship.”

With a bitter laugh, his hands found your ribs. Their grip was higher than they ought to be, brushing the underside of your breaths over the robe, squeezing just a tiny bit too tight. You reached for the belt of his robe, your own threat held between your fingers as you assessed the flimsiness of the knot he’d tied.

His fingers dug in tighter.

“Then I’d better make you aware,” his words came out as a threat, but you didn’t feel intimidated. The muscles in your abdomen clenched, and he noticed, fingers spreading wider on your ribs. “Can’t have you going elsewhere again.”

He was teasing, but you wondered if he had perceived what you did as cheating. His surliness made it seem that way.

“Think you can convince me?” you muttered, already far more focused on the roaming of his fingers, closer to the opening of your robe.

“Obviously.”

He stepped away, and you missed the contact already, searching his dark eyes. They were unfocused with lust. Flickering lazily and obviously to your lips. His robe had loosened slightly, a sliver of chest hair exposed below the smooth skin of his neck, and you didn’t bother to conceal the bite of your lip as you trailed your eyes down across his body.

“It really bothered you that much?”

In lieu of an answer, you found your head cradled in his hands, fingers haphazardly strewn across your face and head as he pulled you in, his lips against yours. When the Master kissed you, it was everything you’d imagined. His lips were intense and firm and bruising, but not rough. The fingers wrapped around your skull were firm, intense, but not painful. Not aggressive, not trying to hurt you, just demanding all of you.

The rest of the day melted away, the TARDIS’ presence disappeared, until all your senses could perceive was him. You could feel the wetness of his lips as he kissed you so desperately you thought he might sob, hear the sound of his breathing, the squeak of your shoes on the floor as he dragged you closer still to his body. You couldn’t smell anything his skin, the oil and the water from the spa mixed with sweat and the TARDIS’ laundry detergent and him.

Even the press of his fingers on your head made you close your eyes, focussing everything on the Master.

Your fingers fumbled to reach him, hold him somehow, finding the neck of his gown and pulling, blindly reaching to run your hands across his chest hair while you fought to open the gown further. Through where he was kissing you, you could feel his amusement, the smile which threatened to break your kiss as his hands slowly released their hold on your head.

With a slight tug at his chest hair you finally broke the kiss, pulling away as he hissed at the pull of your fingers across his

You thought you should probably say something, as the two of you stood panting, eyes glazed with want, but there were no words which could serve this moment.

Your fingers went back to the belt of his robe, tugging greedily until the knot was almost free. As you were about to undress him completely, his hands covered yours, holding them in place against the slight swell of his stomach.

“My room,” he demanded curtly, though the words came out stilted and strange as he fought to catch his breath.

“If its closest,” you agreed, happy to fluff his ego in exchange for that sincere, indulgent smile which spread across his face.

In a strangely sweet gesture, he reached for your hand, pulling you eagerly towards his room. You had never been in the space before, but you barely had time to appreciate it. The dark mahogany of the furniture and the scattered books, stolen goods, and components were completely ignored by the Master as he tugged you by the hands towards a four-poster, shoving blankets and books aside. When the bed was clear he pulled you bodily around in a wide circle, before shoving you back onto the bed with a boyish grin.

Unable to resist his glee, you let yourself flop back, the robe riding up and opening at the neck, much to the Master’s delight. He was quick to try and get the white fabric off you, one deft motion undoing the belt at your waist, pulling it open down the centre with a flourish that made you roll your eyes fondly at him.

You had expected a smartass comment, some kind of brag or joke, but instead he sank over your torso. Lips pressed to the gap between your breasts, he was astonishingly serious.

The room was silent aside from the sounds of your breathing, the gentle smack of his lips as he kissed his way down your body, and the sincerity of the moment took your breath away.

The Master wasn’t a man easily moved to reverence or seriousness, not by beautiful palaces or ornate temples or tragically burning civilisations. He always had a cruel remark, a joke.

His astonished silence meant more to you than words ever could.

When he reached the slope of your pubic bone, he looked up at you, hands flat on the bed either side of your hips.

“Can I fuck you?”

Your voice shuddered as you told him ‘yes’, a ‘please’ wrung from your lips as his tongue found your clit.

He looked up at you again through long eyelashes, seeming somehow, despite the context, surprised.

“Are you sure?”

“Please,” you repeated.

One hand reached down for his chin, stroking the line of his jaw in a mute reassurance. He smiled softly, lips pressed tightly together.

Your gentle touch on his jaw followed him as he moved up your body to kiss you again, gently, with all the veneration which seemed to have overcome him since the console room. His soft lips against yours made you groan, and he paused for a second, as though afraid you might suddenly be made of delicate porcelain and shatter from the gentlest pressure. You kissed him back harder and relished in the rumble of a moan from deep in his throat.

Then he was standing, eyes refusing to flicker from staring into yours, pulling your legs astride his hips and slipping his fingers into the wetness between your legs, fingers methodically stretching you for him.

“Good?” he asked, fingers toying at your entrance, refusing to find the nerves you wanted him to be playing with.

You nodded, trying to be patient.

“Good.”

With one last look of wonderment, he lined himself up and sank into you. You broke his eye contact, throwing your head back, whining at the stretch of him inside you. His hands reached to hold your legs, a thumb stroking across your thigh, before he gently started to move.

“Good?”

“Good.”

He thrust slowly, almost tentatively, as though trying to convince himself he wouldn’t hurt you. His pace gradually quickened, desperation growing on his face as pleasure built inside of you, until suddenly you were holding yourself in place on the mattress and the Master was grunting with the force of his hips meeting yours. Your feet dug into his back, supported by his hands holding your legs up, one arm thrown over your eyes as the other desperately tried to stop him from shunting you further up the bed.

All you feel was him, the desperation in his thrusts, the tightening of his hands on your thighs as you subconsciously clenched around him, your desperation mounting in tandem with his.

“Tell me,” you panted, a fistful of his sheets clenched painfully tight as he pounded into you.

“What?”

He was barely there, you realised, uncomprehending and stupid with pleasure. A groan ripped from his throat as you shifted your hips, his hands gripping your ass to keep you in place.

“Tell me you were jealous.”

“Furious,” he grunted.

“Because you were jealous,” you ground out, feeling the Master reach between your legs, distracting you with the roughness of his fingers across your swollen clit.

You arched your back, uncovering your eyes to glare up at his sweaty face, his eyes trained hungrily on your body. As he looked up to your face, neck and stomach clenching with the strain of keeping up the furious rhythm of his thrusts, you laughed at the grin spreading wide across his gritted teeth.

His fingers on your clit fumbled for a moment, before letting you reach down to take over, your own slippery fingers barely needing to work across your clit before you gasped at the break of pleasure washing over you, the Master’s hips stuttering, struggling to stave off his own orgasm.

As you came down, he slumped over you, fucking you more and more erratically until he was coming inside of you, fingers scrambling to grip onto your body any way he could, pulling you closer as he gasped for air. You couldn’t help watch, mouth hanging over and sweat mixing with his, marvelling as he finally softened and caught his breath on top of you.

“Since it seems to really matter to you,” he mumbled into your neck, “I’ll say it. I was jealous.”

You laughed. He was heavy on top of you, his chest crushing yours as he laughed too, face pressed to the crook of your neck. You could feel his teeth against the sensitive skin connecting to your shoulder, the wetness of his mouth as he laughed, exasperated and high from the hormones.

“You were jealous!” you teased breathlessly, the words making a barest attempt at being sing-song, before his lips pressed against your neck gently.

“I was jealous,” he replied soberly, his hair brushing at you as he fidgeted, taking his weight off you a little. His legs were intertwined with yours, and you could feel the contractions of his muscles as he moved. “So, unbelievably, jealous.”

Even as you dedicated his words – this moment – to memory, you could feel sleep pulling at you. You sorely needed showers, and food, and probably water, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“So we can’t go back?” you asked airily, if only to feel the rumble of a short, exasperated laugh in the Master’s chest.

“Absolutely not.”

“What if I want a massage?” you whined, pouting for show, then gasping as the Master teasingly pinched at your hip.

“Then you’ll have to ask me.”

You pinched his hip in retaliation, his thigh jostling yours as he fidgeted irritably.

“Hm, I can live with that. If you’re any good.”

He was halfway to sleep too, tugging a displaced blanket across the pair of you blindly with his free arm.

“I’m the best, darling. Obviously.”

#dhawan!master #dhawan!master x reader #fic #13atoms #smut #writing smut in second person is always so weird #i feel like im gaslighting the reader #alexa play Gaslighter by The Chicks #this was meant to be like 2k #how did this happen

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missramu · 3 years ago

Text

Back with the kisses!

Hiya! I know it's been a while, but, good news! Have some sappy JKRM beach episode

Kiss number 26: as an apology

“Are you ready, hun?”

The doctor asked while he went down the checklist. Organized as he was, he insisted on checking every item that was lying by the sofa right in front of him, in order to make sure they wouldn’t forget to bring anything important. It was finally August, and Jakurai’s summer holidays had just started. And, with that, their summer trip.

“Ngh-- Almost! Oof!--”

Replied the younger one, as he tried to close a small suitcase by sitting on top of it. Jakurai, intrigued by his partner’s frustrated noises, went to see what was going on in their bedroom. As soon as he stepped inside, he found the designer struggling with his luggage.

“What on earth could you be possibly packing, Ramuda-kun? We’re going to stay at the hotel for a week, not a month.”

The doctor said that mockingly, but Ramuda stopped right on the spot, looking at him as if he just asked the most stupid of questions. How dare he question his fashion needs?

“And? You never know when you will need fancy clothes! What if I need more shirts because I get mine dirty? Or--!”

Jakurai sighed, drawing a half-smile on his face. This was their usual procedure, after all. Ramuda insisted on packing –excessively– extra clothing, and he had the task of making him see he didn’t need that many.

“You never cease to amaze me.”

After a quick rearrangement and a couple of pouty faces, Jakurai made the pink-haired man realize it was alright to leave behind a three-piece suit –which he wouldn’t have needed anyway– as well as, at least, 7 extra shirts and tees. No need to say that it took them a little while, because Ramuda was stubborn and refused to leave without the garments, but the doctor managed to convince him. He just knew too well how to deal with him at this point.

“It’s good to be ready ‘just in case’, but that was… exaggerated”

Once everything was settled, Jakurai checked his mental list again, trying to recall if something was missing. Meanwhile, Ramuda fastened his sandals and waited at the entrance, swinging his feet back and forth playfully.

“Good thing we’re driving there, cuz if we had to take a train, we’d have probs missed it by now”

The taller man raised an eyebrow as a response, turning to face him.

“Says the one who made us lose our time because he couldn’t decide whether he should bring a blue or yellow sweatshirt on August”

“But!-“

“A sweatshirt. August.”

Ramuda puffed, unwilling to recognize his defeat. The doctor gave him a small pat on the head, offering him his suitcase as a truce.

“Let’s go, then. Our holiday awaits, doesn’t it?”

The younger’s gloomy face suddenly lit up, and it only took the designer a small jump to stand on his feet again. He waited with their luggage outside –since he was already wearing shoes– while the doctor checked every door and window. He knew they had asked their teammates to keep an eye on their apartment just in case, but he couldn’t help but double-check before leaving.

“C’mon, Jaku! It’s gonna be night by the time we arrive!”

It was undeniable that the younger man was excited. Sure, he had the liberty to have his holidays whenever he felt like –benefits of self-employment–, but going on vacation together felt… different. It felt better, just like the old Kuujaku Posse days. It wasn’t their first trip together, he knew that. The designer could never forget their training camp, after all. However, he was beyond excited: it was their first trip to the beach since he got the mastectomy. Ramuda couldn’t wait, and Jakurai was also looking forward to it.

As soon as they got everything in the car and were ready to go, the doctor started driving to their destination: Oarai Sun Beach. They were in for a ride that would be two hours long, which the designer was planning to spend between snacks and Instagram stories while his partner drove. Besides that, Ramuda had a self-imposed duty in every single one of their road trips, and that was to take pictures of the scenery and, more importantly, of his boyfriend. Jakurai wasn’t the only one fascinated by his partner; and the younger man loved to see how every single scenery and light managed to boost up his partner’s mature beauty.

The hours went by, and before they could realize it, they were already reaching their destination. The pink-haired man screamed enthusiastically as he saw the sea through the window, losing interest even on the snacks he was eagerly devouring merely 30 seconds ago. After 20 minutes or so, they arrived at the hotel, did the check-in, and rushed to the beach. Jakurai would have loved to take his time, but his partner’s actions didn’t seem to agree with his ideas.

Energetic as always, Ramuda rushed towards the sea as soon as he saw it from the seafront promenade, without caring about the sun cream nor leaving his tee somewhere that wasn’t the sand after launching it. That took Jakurai by surprise –although he should have seen that coming–, quickly finding himself running after his partner, as if he was running after a dog who had something in his mouth that he wasn’t supposed to have.

“AMEMURA-KUN! CAREFUL! THE BODY MUST ACCLIMATE SLOWLY! –“

The designer laughed at the top of his lungs, ignoring his partner’s yelling. Having fun was his top priority right now.

“Oh, shoo! Don’t be such a party pooper! The water’s warm!”

The doctor stopped at the shore, sighing. The younger man was already splashing around in the water, and there was nothing he could do against that. Oh well, at least he was happy.

“You could have waited until I had prepared everything here… Or until you had cream on”

He complained again, as he picked up the t-shirt from the sand, shaking it a little before folding and putting it inside the bag. While the designer was swimming around, the doctor started to set up their beach umbrella, as well as two chairs and a small fridge. He watched Ramuda having the time of his life, now free from the burden of having to wear swimming t-shirts and a binder under it. He could see his boyfriend jump, swim and run in the beach with a liberty he hadn’t had before; and, for him, that was enough to make the trip worth it.

The taller man took his time with the sun cream, and he headed to the water only after being sure it was absorbed. The pink-haired man didn’t hesitate to approach him, sporting a pink and white striped short swim trunk, decorated with lollipops. It was part of his new summer collection, as well as Jakurai’s: his had a light-grey and white plaid pattern and was knee-length. Although it wasn’t as colourful as Ramuda’s, it still had his touch, since it had little lilac plum blossoms around, as well as lilac laces.

Spontaneous as ever, the smaller man jumped into the doctor’s back, taking his chance to braid his hair and make said braid into a low bun. He left a kiss on his partner’s shoulder before jumping back into the water, splashing around once again.

“I wonder how many ways of braiding my hair you know”

Ramuda laughed cheerfully, swimming by Jakurai’s side as he entered the water.

“I’ve always liked to do your hair! So there’s nooo absolute way I’ll ever stop doing so!”

Jakurai stopped walking as soon as the water reached his waist, took a deep breath and submerged for a couple of seconds. Ramuda clapped and followed him to do the same, only to find out that, while that depth was acceptable for Jakurai, it covered his chest and almost his neck. The doctor tried to suppress a laugh at the scenery of his partner floating because of his short height, but in the end, the effort was in vain.

“What’s so funny?! Not everyone’s a damn tower, you know!”

Jakurai laughed again, picking the designer up and letting him sit on his shoulders.

“Then, how does it feel to be one, then?”

The pouts and complains quickly were changed by laughter, as he held tight onto his head, watching his surroundings from his privileged seat.

“It feels… weird! But it’s also funny! It’s like I could crush everyone under my feet like widdle ants!”

They both laughed at the designer’s comparisons, and after a couple of minutes, he took the freedom to launch himself back into the water from his shoulders, swimming somewhere where he could reach without problem –or, at least, stand–. Pitying him, Jakurai followed his partner and stood by his side once he found the perfect depth for himself: now the water was at Ramuda’s waist level, and barely reached Jakurai’s hip.

“That’s on you for being so tall, you know”

The doctor sighed, shaking his head.

“And there’s nothing I can do about that either, my little one”

Ramuda splashed him in response, cracking a laugh. Accompanied by that laugh, the doctor saw behind his blue eyes that he had mischief planned. Whatever it could be, he had no idea.

Like a shark ready to attack its victim, the younger man kept watching his partner closely. The doctor realized his gaze upon him, and although he was ready to counteract, he didn’t pay too much attention to it. He thought that, perhaps, Ramuda would get tired of waiting and would eventually forget whatever he had in mind ready to mess with him. However, he was wrong in thinking that, and he definitely should not have let his guard down. It is not as if he had ever had his guard up around Ramuda, after all.

As soon as the designer noticed him trying to go out of the water, he ambushed. His plan was to run towards him and throw him back into the water. Still, it was quickly thwarted by Jakurai’s height; since he just kind of stumbled against his legs on an attempt to sink him.

“OH, C’MON!”

Jakurai watched him bump against him, raising an eyebrow with curiosity. Ramuda crossed his arms with frustration, sitting in the water by his side.

“Was that your attempt at… sinking me?”

“Yes! And it didn’t work!”

The lilac-haired man laughed playfully, ruffling the younger’s wet hair.

“I’m sure you can do better than that”

Obviously, Ramuda took that personally. He got up and sat back in the shore, arming himself with patience. There, he waited until the doctor tried to leave the water again, and prepared his attack once more: this time, he charged against Jakurai’s knee pits and successfully made him fall into the water. What he didn’t plan, though, was that he would fall with him too, making a splashing mess that could have ended in broken bones if it weren’t for the doctor’s quick reflexes.

“What were you thinking now, Amemura-kun? You could have hurt yourself! What if I had fallen on top of you? Did you think we could have gotten serious bruises, or even worse?”

The designer quivered at his partner’s angry tone, lowering his head while he was being scolded. He just wanted to joke around, but ended up taking it so seriously that he didn’t really think it through. The fact that surprised the designer was that Jakurai wasn’t concerned at all about himself, but rather about him.

“I’m… I’m sorry…”

He replied in a quiet voice, looking at Jakurai with honest puppy eyes. The doctor tried to hold his ground, but Ramuda did know well his weaknesses. He clicked his tongue, sitting on the shore and placing his boyfriend on his lap.

“Are you alright? Does it hurt somewhere?”

The designer climbed onto his lap, hugging him and leaving a shy kiss on the taller-man’s lips. Jakurai replied tenderly, pressing him against himself in an embrace, as he realized it was Ramuda’s silent apology.

“Next time you’re tempted to do such a thing, at least do it where the water covers me”

Ramuda nodded, and said gesture earned him another kiss as a way of settling things up.

#hypnosis mic #hypmic #ヒプノシスマイク #jakurai jinguji #hypnosis mic jakurai #ramuda amemura #hypnosis mic ramuda #jakuramu #jakurai x ramuda #trans character

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sumeshi-t · 5 years ago

Text

falling.

fwb!sakusa x reader

wc: 1.7k

warning: slight nsfw mention here and there

i tried tried making this as just a drabble, but i think i might have gotten carried away sksksks

tagging cheesecult: @akaashit-baeji @bubbleteaa @yamagucheese @milkandc00kiez @akaashichigo @drainedjaz @haikkeiji @annalyn-annalyn @mlkytobio @sosugasweet @cali-writes-sometimes @simping4ratsumu @shishinoya @ushiwakaa @kxgeyamasmilk @agaassi @hanibuni @cupofkenma @kawanisshi @thiccbokuto @shinsukestan @sufiawrites @wakaitoshi @skyguy-peach @fern-writes-ig @briswriting @airybby @kawaiikraykray @miyuswriting @raevaioli @ouikarwa @hakueishirei

and thank you mom @taeiliee for beta-ing this omg ilysm

you were sat at the corner of the large hall, watching as strangers kissed strangers, brushing their sweating bodies against each other on the dance floor, the smell of alcohol and lust and sin heavy in the air, all this muted by the loud blaring of music, the bass thumping along with your heartbeat, sending vibrations to your skull.

sighing, you swiveled on the chair, before asking the bartender for a drink. you were just going to enjoy one more shot, give your friends a text, and go home, sleep, end the night as dull as it should be.

until this man, whose curly hair framed his face perfectly, two distinct moles just above one of his brows, the scent of fresh laundry and lavender reaching your nose, caught in your periphery, sitting a chair away from you. his mask prevented you from seeing him in full view but just a look at his eyes tells you that he's been through hell just by being in that place.

he only asked for water, took out a handkerchief and wiped the rim of the glass before pulling down his mask to take careful sips. he must've noticed you watching him, so he turned to you.

as silly as it sounds, you hiccuped at having realized how cute this man actually was without the mask. you quickly cover your mouth and, surprisingly, he asks the bartender to get you a glass of water.

"you having fun?" you ask him once your hiccups subsided, apologizing for bothering him. the man who has yet to introduce himself groans, "obviously not. i don't see you having a good time either,"

"this isn't really my type of fun. not at all; i'd rather be at home but..." it's the alcohol, you're going to stupidly put all the blame on the drinks that you've had; on the way his eyes scanned your face; on the way your eyes watched his lips move; on the way his arm brushed against yours once you two decided to get the hell out of that shit-fest.

you thought this was only going to be a cute little encounter with a man who also hated crowds that rescued you and himself, and you were in no way expecting to be ending the night like this–

tipsy and naked, legs spread, back against the wall, nails digging into his smooth back, warm shower water trickling down your body; your breath fogging up the glass, panting with every snap of his hips against yours.

it was a weird way for introductions to be made, but as you both neared your high, he whispers his name in your ear, "say it, call my name, scream,"

and you did.

as you rode out your orgasm with him, the sensation of his name rolling out of your tongue felt more euphoric than what really led to you being unable to stand on your own, knees buckling soon as your feet touched the floor, that he has had to give you and himself a real and decent shower.

when you lay in his bed moments later, his back was turned to face you. no "good night" or "sweet dreams"– you realize you'd preferred it that way, to stick to the reality of what this was: a one night stand. and since it's like that, you guessed that this was the last time you'd be seeing or even be breathing the same air as this man.

so even if he was merely breaths away from you, you knew what you shared with him just now wouldn't shorten the ten thousand miles between you. you knew it was wrong to be feeling this way for a stranger; even so, your clouded thoughts got the best of you.

and you reached out.

"kiyoomi,"

"what? can't sleep?" his voice was a low grumble, the sound muffled by the pillow he was hugging to his chest.

"it's y/n," meanwhile, your voice was barely audible, you were sure it was just another whisper in the wind. but for sakusa kiyoomi, it was louder than the moans and gasps you made that night. "though i don't think that's important," you drawled before succumbing to sleep.

the next day, you wake early and leave him, his bed, and the memories of last night without a word. just as how one night stands should be.

so for the next week, you were confused, angry, for feeling so desperate to see sakusa kiyoomi once again. if only you knew that this was how it was going to be, you would've left your number on a little note; or maybe do the things they would in movies, used your lipstick to write it on his bathroom mirror with hearts and your name in case he didn't hear it.

and your desperation has you coming back to that shit-hole of a party. if only to relive the memories of that one night. you knew the chances of seeing him there again were slim, absentmindedly twirling your glass of vodka in your hand while letting the alcohol slowly numb you.

only to see a familiar set of eyes, and half of a face obscured by a mask beside you.

"thought this wasn't your fun?"

"i could say the same about you, didn't you hate it here?" you place the glass back on the counter, completely turning to sakusa, "wanna get out of here?"

he downed the shot you didn't take, before standing up to leave.

you both hated having to go back to that club. but for some reason, the two of you just indulged in the prospect of meeting each other there, only to be in each other's heat, and for one of you to be left alone in the cold the morning after.

then it was the third, fourth, and soon it was the sixth-night-stand.

you did something you've never done before: that was, pressing your lips against his. there was a surge of boldness in you that you assumed was only from the alcohol, when you didn't know yet that it was already something more addictive and dangerous than that.

you thought the kiss would ruin everything that you had with him–whatever it was–but, it didn't. instead, sakusa kiyoomi responds with a bite to your lower lip, a chaste kiss, a teasing lick, before pulling away to rest his lips to nip at your neck.

for the rest of that night, his movements weren't so rough. from his lips came out your name and his praises, and with those same swollen lips he left behind a burning trail of butterfly kisses on every corner of your body covered by skin he could taste–all this replacing the usual grunts of approval or the loud smack of his palms against your ass.

this time, sakusa's bed wasn't cold nor empty. the first thing he saw as soon as he opened his eyes the next morning was you; cradled in his arms, hickey-filled chest steadily rising and falling with each breath. his calloused fingers brush against your cheek once, and it was too bad that you couldn't see the soft smile he has for you.

after the seventh night, you two began texting. the texting escalated to phone calls. the phone calls turned into meet-ups that you all but wanted to call a date but couldn't because you had no idea just what you were to him, and what he was to you.

"woah, you can do that? don't your wrists hurt?" your eyes widened, almost dropping the ice cream he bought for you after one of his practice games.

"really, omiomi? that how ya flirt with such a pretty lady?" one of his teammates quips from behind you. sakusa glares at the blonde guy who you remember as their setter, and you decide to laugh it off. "don't worry, he doesn't have to do much to have me on my kne–"

sakusa slams a mask to your face to keep you from saying anything more. and then, once he knows the two of you were out of their earshot, his arm wraps around your shoulder to pull you close to him, and he warns by your ear, "that filthy mouth of yours needs a little cleaning tonight,"

to his surprise, you smile up at him, which gives him a hard time concentrating on what you were saying, his quickening pulse echoing in his head making him unable to hear your voice.

it was no longer the sex that you craved from him. it was no longer just sex for him. deep in your heart, you knew what you shared with sakusa–it was making love. and he knows this too. it was a feeling that to him was so familiar yet so distant.

"kiyoomi,"

"y/n,"

"i... i think, i'm already in love with you,"

you were so blinded by the brightness of the emotions you knew you felt with and for him, that you failed to notice he never answered you back, nor did you see the fears and worries that he keeps hidden behind his mask.

after all that build-up, only for sakusa kiyoomi to drop you at the last second. as if nothing happened. as if you were nothing. the meet-ups stopped, your calls were declined, texts left on read.

it's been a month since then, now you were in your bedroom on a friday night, refusing your friends' invites for yet another party downtown. this time, they tell you it was for you to forget. which was dumb, considering that place was where it all started.

"it" meaning... what? it's not even valid to call it a one night stand anymore. a friend with benefits? then again, did you even fit his description of a friend? or were you just another fuck buddy to him? someone he used as an outlet of his sexual frustrations and when he caught on to the feelings you shouldn't have and even you didn't even know why–

you wished forgetting sakusa kiyoomi was as easy as getting rid of the stains on your sheets.

but the tears and pain he's dirtied you with was a mark no bleach or detergent could ever erase.

little did you know, for the past month, sakusa kiyoomi was patiently waiting for you in that same old stool back in the bar, with three words he wished he'd told you sooner.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagine #haikyuu scenario #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x you #sakusa kiyoomi smut #sakusa kiyoomi angst #sakusa angst #sakusa smut

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cagestark · 4 years ago

Text

The Rest it Kills

About this: ballerina!peter and mobster!tony. Starker. Physical and emotional between established quentin beck/peter parker.

THIS IS UNFINISHED. Anyone is welcome to continue it.

“FRIDAY, baby? Do you have the shot?”

It’s a celebration, which does nothing to explain why the room gets quiet as soon as Tony enters it. Around the table are four of his best and brightest, the handful of underlings that were instrumental in helping Tony execute his vision of how to repay Adrian Toomes for encroaching upon his weapons market. For a job well done, he’d invited them up to the penthouse to have at his expensive collection of spirits.

He’d left them alone for only a half hour to make a few calls, but now upon his return they were shifty eyed and babbling about something inconsequential, a sure sign that they had hastily changed the subject.

“Alright,” Tony says, pouring himself a glass of scotch. “Out with it. I’m a paranoid bastard at best. At worst?—well. Ask Toomes.”

“It’s nothing bad, Tony,” Rogers says. If the fact that Rogers hadn’t told a lie his entire life didn’t put Tony at ease, then his clear eyes and voice did. Rogers was his number two, and they got on thick as thieves. He’s about as likely to lie to Tony as the sun is not to rise.

“Then I’m not angry,” Tony says, taking the empty seat. “But now I’m curious. Which is worse?”

“Angry,” Wilson says in that deadpan way that Tony just adores.

“Come on, don’t leave me in suspense,” Tony says, finishing his scotch with a single gulp. He pours himself another.

It’s Romanov who—doesn’t break, per say. Tony isn’t convinced that there’s anything that could break Natasha, though if they were on opposite sides, he might have a few places he’d be willing to start. She must weigh the pros and cons and decide that letting Tony in on their little secret is the best move. Whether it’s best for her, for them, or for someone else, Tony can’t say.

She shifts and pulls out a piece of paper folded in half and tosses it across the table. Barnes and Rogers groan.

“Nat, you rat,” Barnes says.

“Wow,” she says, eyes glittering. “That rhymed, Bucky. It was beautiful.”

“What the fuck is this?” Tony wonders out loud as he unfolds the paper. It turns out to be nothing extraordinary. It’s a program for the New York City Ballet. The ballet is something new by Ratmansky, with principal dancers MAXIMOFF/PARKER. “Ballet? Taking up a new hobby, Barnes?”

“I thought I’d look great in the tights,” is all Barnes says. A deflection if Tony’s ever heard one.

“Their boy toy is the lead,” Romanov admits (to fresh groaning from around the table).

Tony’s eyebrows raise. “Boy toy? All three of you?”

“We are in the process of wooing him, so to speak,” Wilson admits, taking a swig from the bottle in front of him. “Barnes and Rogers might be willing to tag team him, but I want him all for myself.”

Rogers’s eyes flash, cold steel in the overhead lights. “Watch the way you’re talking about Peter. He’s not a piece of meat to be shared.”

“This is a goddamn episode of the Bachelor,” Tony laughs. “Which one is Peter: Maximoff or Parker?”

“Parker,” all four chime together.

“I feel like a father whose kids are going out on their first date. Are you buying him flowers? Are you opening the car door for him? Are you being safe?” Tony jests. He leans back in his chair feeling the warm thrum of the scotch in his stomach, glancing from one besotted man to the next.

“All that and more,” Barnes says. Then, with more than a little bitterness: “It’s the way he deserves to be treated.”

Tony lifts his brows. Natasha slides him the deck of cards so that he can shuffle. He’ll lose, especially once he’s as drunk as he hopes to be, but there’s no amount of money he could lose to them that wouldn’t amount to pocket change in his book. Consider it their bonus. As he deals, he asks, “Trouble in paradise?”

“You could say that,” Wilson mutters. “He’s not exactly on the market.”

“Never took you for a homewrecker, Rogers. Barnes maybe—“

“Hardly a home to wreck,” Barnes admits. “Not a happy one, at least. Pete’s boyfriend is a perverted, abusive low life.”

Tony goes stiff. The buzzing in his gut transfers to his brain, raw as the sizzle of electricity. In his mind, he sees himself as a young boy sitting cross-legged by the vanity in his mother’s room watching her apply creams and powders to disguise Howard’s abuse. All the heinous crimes Tony commits, that one is not among them. He doesn’t prey on the weak. It’s the only promise to his mother that he’s never broken.

“So, take care of him,” Tony says lowly. “Do you or do you not have certain skills and the balls to use them? You could kill this boyfriend and have it look like a hundred different accidents. What’s the problem here? Do you need daddy’s permission or something? Well, here, I’m giving it.”

Rogers scowls darkly at his hand. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Wouldn’t I? Regale me, then! Because it sounds to me like I’m sitting around the table with a bunch of pussies.”

“Peter asked us not to,” Barnes says.

Tony blinks. “Is—is that it? Good God. Definitely a bunch of pussies. Kill the bastard anyway. If you can’t stomach it; if you don’t want your boy toy mad at you, give me a name and I’ll do it. It can be done before we’re four rounds into poker, for fuck’s sake.”

“It’s not like we don’t have the stomach for it,” Wilson says. He’s the newest of their crew, but Tony appreciates his fearlessness, the open, unabashed expression he gives Tony when calling him out on perceived bullshit. “It’s about respect, man. We respect Peter’s wishes, and he trusts us because of it.”

The form of respect Tony is most acquainted with is fear. This softness he sees in his men right now translates to nothing short of weakness. Tony has never lived in a fairytale: the world is hard, and it makes hard people.

The rest, it kills.

“It’s complicated,” Rogers says to soothe Tony’s hackles. “If you knew the kid, you’d understand I think.”

“Now you’ve gone and done it,” Barnes mutters. There’s movement underneath the table: one person kicking another, everyone jolting to get their legs out of the way. Barnes looks like he’s sucked on a lemon, or taken a shot of Nat’s imported whiskey. “Now he’s gonna go see Pete for himself and none of us will have a chance.”

As it is, Tony doesn’t have to lift a finger to meet Peter because Peter comes to him.

Tony knows the benefit of giving his men a nice long leash.

He doesn’t have to. With them living in the Tower, it’s within his rights to keep surveillance on all of them; except he knows that distrust breeds distrust. Wilson, Romanov, Rogers, and Barnes have earned his trust. For that reason alone, he removed the wiretaps and cameras in their rooms upon their arrivals.

But it’s still his home, and he watches it. Closely. Tony has just poured his third glass of scotch when FRIDAY alerts him that there’s an unauthorized presence in the Tower.

“Unescorted?” Tony asks. His blood thrums—this is the most exciting thing to happen all day.

“Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes are the ones who granted him entrance using Mr. Roger’s passcode, and they appear to be returning to Mr. Rogers apartment, judging by the floor number selected in the private elevator.”

Tony rolls his eyes, relaxing back in his chair. “A fuck, baby?”

Tony has asked them not to entertain guests at the Tower without his authorization, but Tony was young once. He knew the thrill of breaking rules, how good forbidden, casual sex could feel. He wouldn’t put it past Rogers and Barnes to have grown bored, considering they’ve been dicking each other down since they were teens. Just thinking about twenty years of monogamy has his cock shriveling. If they’re just bringing home someone to bend between them and spitroast, Tony’s not going to bother abandoning his scotch.

“Judging by the young man’s level of inebriation, I would hope not.”

Groaning, Tony sets his scotch aside. He gives it a mournful glance while he steps into a pair of jeans and straps up. “I’m coming back for you, baby,” he whispers. “Wait for me. Take no other lover. Fuck, I hate wasting my humor on an empty room.”

“I’m here, boss,” FRI offers.

Tony rolls his eyes.

When he knocks on Steve’s (Steve and Bucky’s apartment, considering how much time Bucky spends there) at fifteen minutes ‘til midnight on a Thursday, he would usually expect a bleary-eyed blonde to crack the door open, a dark apartment the backdrop behind him. Instead, the door opens and light floods out into the hallway. Steve is dressed in his pajamas, that is to say that he’s wearing only a pair of pajama pants that cling to his hipbones for dear fucking life.

“FRI said there’s someone in my building and they’re drunker than I am. Don’t you know that’s a crime?” Tony asks, leaning against the doorframe. The cock of his hip emphasizes where his gun rests, but Steve’s eyes don’t even flicker to it.

Nonplussed, Steve just steps aside to give Tony room to enter.

Slumped on the sofa, bundled underneath a large blanket is a young man. Handsome, his face is a testament to masculinity: cut jaw, straight nose, flat brows and thin lips. The only hint of estrogen is the clear, smooth skin that looks like he’s never grown facial hair in his life. Right away, Tony places his bets that he knows who this kid is.

Peter Parker is resplendent, large brown eyes that blink sluggishly, dragging all over Tony’s figure like his eyes can’t decide where to rest. Sitting up, the blanket falls away and reveals his naked chest which Tony eyes with appreciation. He has the optimal figure for a ballerino, obvious strength that is lean and not bulky.

One of the thin lips is split, bruise blooming like the most tender flower beside his mouth. The wound opens when the kid’s mouth falls open.

“Ohmygod,” he slurs, elbows shaking from lack of strength. He collapses back onto the comfortable couch. “Tony Stark is here.”

Were he not so sobered by the kid’s appearance, the bruises and blood and the red-rimmed eyes and raw mouth, he might be charmed. Bucky appears dressed no more than Steve and Tony, a glass of water in his hand. He helps Peter sit up and coaxes him to drink from the glass. Every other sip, Peter gets distracted, gaping from naked chest to naked chest. At one point, he falls asleep propped up on Bucky’s shoulder.

“He’s not drunk,” Tony says, standing back with Steve while they watch Bucky try to coax the kid into consciousness. “Drugged?”

Steve hums. A muscle in his jaw jumps from how he’s grinding it. “It’s not the first time. Beck and Peter have different tastes in the bedroom. Peter has mentioned before that sometimes after their date nights, he wakes up sore.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. And you haven’t killed this guy, yet?”

Steve looks downright tortured. He does it well; Tony’s always thought of him as a bit of a melodramatic. “Peter would never see us again if we did. We have to decide between being around to support and protect him or not being around at all.”

“If Beck was dead,” Tony says coldly. “There’d be nothing to protect him from.”

“James,” Peter groans, losing and finding purpose again during the middle of the word. “Tony Stark is here!”

“In the flesh, kid,” Tony says, stepping forward. Peter’s eyes trace down Tony’s chest, tracing the matting of scars over his sternum before dipping over his abs (nowhere near as pronounced as Barnes or Rogers’s, but Tony does alright). The kid licks his lips. He can’t help but preen a little, winking at Bucky who is rolling his eyes. “

The curiosity has been planted like a seed deep inside Tony’s mind. It sprouts, soaking up thoughts until it’s the only thing he can think about, Peter Parker, principal dancer, owner of three of his best-men’s hearts.

It leads Tony here, to the best seats money can’t even buy at the Lincoln Center in Manhattan, dressed in his best tuxedo, dark eyes focused on the curtain that glows gold. His heart pounds when it withdraws on a dark, empty stage, though he hardly knows why.

By the end, he has a better idea.

There’s no hiding a single sharp line or sensual curve in the outfits they wear onstage, the pale tights and leotards. There is nothing soft about him save for his curls, but still he leaps and lands silent on his canvas-clad feet. The dance is obviously based around Maximoff’s character with Peter there as her supporting love interest, but even when the red-head bewitches the audience with her fouettés, Tony can’t take his eyes off of Peter’s figure, bowed at the edge of the stage and watching her with the sweetest supplication. When it is time for his own variation, he leaps and bows with a boneless grace that does more than take Tony’s breath away. It makes him hard. It makes him think about those long, strong legs wrapped around his waist while he gives the boy his cock. It makes him think about peeling those tights off and wrapping them around the dainty, pale wrists. It’s a good thing no one can see his erection behind the wall of his box seat when they all stand to give their ovation.

Peter bows and flushes, hand in hand with Maximoff before standing behind her sweetly while the entire place howls for her.

Tony thinks that maybe he’s starting to understand.

No one bothers him where he leans against the wall beside Peter’s dressing room door. Whether it is his reputation or his thunderous expression, he knows not, but he’s grateful for the lack of distractions while he eavesdrops on the conversation taking place inside the dressing room between Peter and a man Peter calls Quent.

—work harder in the gym. Have you been tracking your calories on the app we downloaded together?

Yes, Quent, Peter mumbles, barely audible through the walls.

All of them?

I said yes.

Don’t get defensive, babe. I had three different audience members come to talk to me about your figure tonight. It pisses me off too! If you’re ready to leave the industry—

You know I’m not.

Quentin sighs, the long-suffering sigh of an argument that has been often visited. I know. This is your dream. Poor baby. It must be so tough, loving a job that hurts you so much. But I’m so proud of you for pushing through, Peter, you know that, right? I just wish you were a little more grateful to me for trying to keep you on the right track. You treat me like the bad guy.

Peter doesn’t respond.

Is there anything you need before I go? How’s your back feeling? Your lifts looked a little strained towards the end.

Feels okay. I’ve got everything I need back at my apartment. I’ll go home and put my feet up.

You deserve it. Just don’t forget to use that app okay? There’s a rustle, a struggle, maybe Peter trying to pull away. But Tony’s always had an overactive imagination. Hey. Don’t be like that. I love you.

You too.

Peter. Say it right.

Tony slips away from the door before Quentin can come out. From his place around the corner, Tony still has decent vantage to put eyes on this man for himself. Average height, average weight. Fit enough—for a civilian. Tony’s hands positively ache for a gun. Though he’s carrying, he’s no fool. Now isn’t the time, nor the place.

Once he’s sure the man is gone and not returning, Tony makes his way back to the door. It’s time to meet this young talent from Queens (yeah, Tony read the brochure) for himself. But when Tony goes to lift his hand to knock, the door swings open.

Peter blinks in surprise. He’s dressed in gray leggings that look soft as cashmere, a NYDC hoodie on, sneakers on his feet. Spilling from the sneakers’ tops are black fuzzy socks, meant to keep his toes warm from the cold New York weather.

He’s limping.

And gaping. It never gets old, seeing the way his reputation precedes him. He loves the way the crowds part for him on the street, loves the way waiters and waitresses stammer and struggle to serve him, the way eyes grow wide like Tony is a god in the flesh.

Tony extends a hand. “I’m Tony Stark. It’s a pleasure to meet you; you’re a very talented dancer.”

“Hi,” Peter breathes, taking Tony’s hand. Tony grips gently, feeling like he’s liable to break bones, the kid’s so fucking delicate. And cold. But Tony knows the saying: cold hands, warm heart. He wonders what that makes him. Peter works to regain himself, saying, “Trust me, I know who you are. It’s so nice to meet you. Thank you—they didn’t tell me that anyone important was going to be in the audience.”

“They who?” Tony asks. “Your managers, or my men?”

Peter swallows, face draining of blood. As much as Tony likes these games, they aren’t as enjoyable when the worm on his hook is as pretty and polite as Peter is. He puts on his most charming (softest) smile and makes sure to ask, gesturing to the messy dressing room behind him, may I come in?

Nodding, Peter opens the door wider. They both ignore how he was clearly on his way out, a backpack in his hands. He sits it down carefully by the vanity where he applied his stage makeup and seats himself on the chair, nudging his shoes off. When he stretches the arches of his feet, he winces. Tony gives him a moment to settle, stepping around the tiny room and taking in the smells and sights. On one wall is a picture of Peter and Quentin, arms around each other, beaming.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter asks, voice quiet. Tony glances over at him. “Are your—men in trouble?”

“No,” Tony admits. “If they were, I certainly wouldn’t be here watching ballet; I’d be...busy.”

Peter sags in relief. The way his shoulders hunch throw his collar bones into sharp prominence where they peek out from the neck of his sweatshirt. “Oh thank God. They’re so nice, Mr. Stark, and I promise they don’t tell me anything about their—your work. James still insists that he works for some guy named Potts in New Jersey. Who’s Tony Stank, he asked me when I brought you up.”

Tony lets his lips twitch. “James’s middle name is Buchanan. Some call him Bucky. Tell him I said: now we’re even.”

Peter grins and it’s radiant. Tony feels an unsteadiness in his gut, like missing a step on the stairs or hearing a gunshot go off when he’s not been the one to pull the trigger. There’s just the gentlest stirring of jealousy when Peter mouths the name, Bucky, testing the way it tastes and wrinkling his nose in laughter.

“I can’t wait to see the look on his face,” Peter says. “Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

Now might be the time to offer to let the kid use his given name but—Tony’s kind of into it. A few more instances of Mr. Stark rolling off that polished tongue might have Tony hardening in his tux. “Take a picture for me,” Tony suggests, sitting down on the cozy loveseat that is opposite of Peter’s vanity.

“You said—you enjoyed the show?” Peter asks, demure. The sleeves of his sweatshirt pass his wrists and most of his palms, turning his hands into adorable little sweater-paws. When he reaches up to bite at a nail, the sleeve slips down past his tiny wrist. Tony could surely wrap an entire hand around that wrist and have more to spare.

“It was incredible,” Tony admits. “I don’t usually have the attention span to sit through longer shows, but I was hooked from curtain rise to curtain fall, kid.”

Peter flushes, not so much in embarrassment as he does from the pleasure of being complimented. The flush of the drunk, though it seems Peter’s poison of choice is praise. Tony can’t help but want to spread him out on the sheets in his bedroom and say the sweetest, filthiest things to see if he can get the kid hard with just his voice. “I’m so glad. There hasn’t been as much press; new shows are always a little slow to take off. Wanda really is something special, though. She spent a season overseas and came back with so much more grace and growth—”

“Did she do well tonight?” Tony asks, unbuttoning the top button on his jacket to reveal the trim waist and vest beneath. He realizes what he’s doing just as the words are coming out of his mouth. Tony is flirting with Peter, and his flirtation is a force of nature. “I barely noticed her. Couldn’t take my eyes off of you, kid. How the hell you manage to dance that way, I can’t fathom.”

Now the flush hints at being flustered. He soaks in the way Peter’s face darkens, the way he hides behind one of his hands as the praise makes his posture go soft and waxy. His voice is remarkably even when he says, “Lots and lots of practice.”

“Your hard work pays off. I was captivated. I could tell that my men were the same.”

That topic sobers Peter, who sits up straighter. His pretty face twists, the question mark clear, the confusion too genuine for Tony to take it disrespectfully. On the contrary, Tony finds his forthrightness attractive when he asks, “Why did you come tonight, Mr. Stark?”

“I came to see what it was about you that has my men so enthralled,” Tony admits. With the kind of power he has comes the freedom to be honest, even painfully, brutally honest, because repercussions are either minimal or nonexistent.

“Did you figure it out?” Peter asks. Tony can’t help but feel like the kid is asking him for the both of them: what is it so special about me? Yes, this boy is fragile. That can’t be overlooked. But inside of him there’s still a spark of spirit ready to alight at any moment, grateful for any tinder that it’s given. He’s not Maria Stark. Not yet.

“Yes,” Tony says, standing. He rebuttons his jacket. “And I’d like very much to get to know you better, if you’re agreeable.”

“Me?” Peter’s head cocks, squinting up at Tony like he’s trying to see through him, to see what is really being said. “Why?”

Tony is used to letting his baser instincts guide him. He fucks who he wants, goes where he wants, says what he wants, and he owes no one alive an explanation for it. Many people have stopped asking Tony questions like why? Certainly none of Toomes’s men asked Tony why when he was torturing them forty-eight hours ago.

“Because I want to,” Tony says. He reaches down and picks up Peter’s backpack, putting it over his shoulder, the canvas bag downright gauche against his Givenchy tuxedo. “So what do you say, kid? You look dead on your feet, but would you like to be dead on your feet somewhere more private?”

Peter takes a long moment to think about it before tucking his toes into his shoes.

He belongs there amongst the backdrop of Tony’s penthouse. Peter glances around with all the coltish wonder of a newborn, running his fingers across the genuine leather of the sofa, leaning forward to look at the smart-glass table that Tony likes to prop his feet up on at night. Upon entering, Tony removes his tuxedo jacket and takes Peter’s hastily-removed sweatshirt. He appreciates the four inches of skin that appear when his shirt rides up, sticking to his outerwear.

He doesn’t appreciate the yellowing bruises dotting the kid’s biceps. Fingertips, he knows. His mother wore them round her neck like pearls.

“Is it okay if I take my shoes off?” Peter asks. He limped from the theater to the car, from the car to the elevator, and from the elevator to the couch where he collapsed with a sigh of relief. When Tony encourages him to, Peter nudges off his comfortable shoes and brings one foot up into his lap where he firmly presses his knuckles into the sole.

Peter asks for a drink. Tony gives him access to his wine, and the kid chooses for himself: a red, Chateau Margaux that smells of rose petals and hints at citrus and turns Peter’s cheeks pink. He doesn’t ask for a second glass, and Tony doesn’t offer it; the last thing he wants is the kid to think that Tony invited him here to take advantage of him.

“Tell me,” Tony asks, watching with rapt attention the faces Peter makes, like he’s dancing on the knife’s edge between pleasure and pain. “Tell me how you met my men. They aren’t exactly patrons of the arts.”

Peter’s face smoothes and he smiles. “It was Natalie, actually. She comes to shows every so often; I think her and one of the instructors know each other. Sometimes, she sponsors promising dancers.”

Romanov. Her and this instructor must truly know each other for her to be using a cover name around them. He files all this away in the darkest parts of his mind, should she ever become a problem someday. Tony has places reserved in his brain for all of his closest allies; already, he is making one for Peter too. Trust is earned but ever ephemeral.

“So Nat introduced you?”

“Yes. She sponsored me for a while, so we got to know each other pretty well. Once I mixed up my days and showed up at her condo when I wasn’t supposed to, and I met the others. Sometimes they would come to shows or send me gifts backstage.” Peter frowns. “I asked them to stop though because—Quent would just throw them all away.”

“Quentin Beck.”

“How’d you know?”

Tony just smiles and changes the subject. “You must know that the three of my men are half in love with you.”

Peter groans, pressing both his palms flat to his heated cheeks. “I had a feeling they were...interested. I hope they don’t feel that I’ve led them on, Mr. Stark. Nothing untoward happens at all when we’re together; sometimes I, I meet Steve and James for dinner, or other times Sam comes over to my apartment and we just talk, I promise. They’re so kind and it’s—it’s nice to have people to talk to.”

Peter stops talking abruptly, mouth open. He lets it fall closed with a click. When Tony prods him gently, he admits, “The attention is nice, too. It feels good, feeling wanted. Does that make me bad?”

Tony wonders what kind of miserable asshole would have Peter in his bed at night and not show the kid attention. It takes a special fuck-up to come home to a lover like Peter and not make him feel wanted. “Wanting attention? Not at all, kid. It’s the least of what you deserve.”

“You sound like them,” Peter says, smiling. “James and Steve and Sam. They’re always doing and saying nice things and telling me that I deserve them.”

“Good,” says Tony, one side of his mouth curling upwards. “I feel like a proud father; I’ve taught them well. Should you have those elevated?”

“Sorry?”

“Your feet. Elevation will keep down the swelling.” Tony places one of the expensive throw pillows on his lap and pats it invitingly. Peter stretches out without anymore prompting, toes flexing as his joints pop before curling in. The kid makes for an indecent picture, all long lines, absolutely nothing hidden by the leggings he wears.

“I asked them if I could meet you, you know,” Peter admits. He’s red from far more than the wine, now, judging by the way he has one hand pressed over his eyes to shield him from Tony’s gaze. As if it’s possible to. Peter peaks through his fingers. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Mr. Stark, but I’ve had a crush on you for ages.”

A crush. God. Tony doesn’t know what’s more hilarious, the sweet naivete of this boy or how it makes his cold heart flutter. Tony’s eyebrows raise. “Is that so? I’m not exactly crush material for the mentally stable.”

Peter hums. “When I was a kid, I had a lot of bullies. I started dancing when I was four years old, and not a lot of other boys understood. Sometimes, I used to daydream about you coming to protect me from them. To put them all in their place and then whisk me off to that house you gave a tour of on TV once, the one in Malibu.”

“Good taste,” Tony says. “You know, I used to do the same thing when I was young. I dreamed about someone coming to protect me and my mother, to take us both away somewhere where no one could ever hurt us.”

Sitting up on his elbows, Peter fixes Tony with a serious, solemn stare. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Is that what happened?”

“No. I became that someone. What happened to you?”

“I guess I gave up on the idea,” says Peter.

“Look. Maybe you don’t have your crush on me anymore, but I’m not the kind of man who can look away from innocent human suffering. My men told me about your boyfriend.” Peter sags back onto the couch and puts his face in his hands. He shakes his head from side to side, though no words come out. “This is my offer, kid. Let me take care of the problem. Let me be that knight in shining armor you wanted when you were younger.

#starker #cagewrites #unfinished fic #tw: abuse #ballerina!peter #mobster!tony

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puckmeupfam · 4 years ago

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The Right to Be Jealous | Jake Virtanen

Word Count: 3177 Note: Friends with benefits to lovers with the one and only. I feel like everything I write is same ice cream different cone, but I like to give the people what I want.

Sitting in the shadowed booth, your nails dug into the faux leather upholstery. Everyone else was out dancing and laughing loudly on the sticky floor. They were relaxed, blowing off steam, singing along to the ‘00s pop throwback that was blasting. You just stayed glaring daggers at your vodka cran that had slowly become watered down by the ice, shedding a puddle of condensation. There was one other member of the Canucks posse who was not on the dance floor: Jake was standing with his elbow on the bar while his eyes were on the woman perched on the barstool. In your desperation, you had even tried that body language deciphering trick of looking at his feet just to find them pointed towards her as well.

Jake was free to do whatever he wants, you told yourself, you have no hold over him. The two of you met shortly after you moved to Vancouver for school. At first, you were friends but nothing more. Yes, you found each other attractive, that was clear. But you were much more compatible at making sarcastic jokes and counseling each other through life’s daily mindfucks than anything else. Then, Jake started inviting you as his plus one to events and parties, he had found that everyone had a tendency to pair off at those events and he wasn’t a fan of not having anyone’s attention. That’s how it started, him shushing you because you were incapable of keeping your voice down and you saving him whenever he got caught in a boring, bureaucratic conversation.

And that’s how it went until last year’s Halloween party.

You both drank more than usual. And maybe the catalyst was him placing his hand on your bare thigh where the costume had ridden up. Or maybe it was you lamenting about how long it had been since you had gotten laid. But probably it was him tying a knot in that damn cherry stem. No matter how it happened, you found yourself being pulled by the wrist down the hallway of his building. Both of you drunk and giggly. When you stepped into his apartment, he spun you around so your back was flush against the cold door. He spent a minute staring down at you, not laughing anymore. You let yourself get lost in his bright eyes that kept flickering to your lips. Without even realizing it you brought your hand up to his face and stroked your thumb along the apple of his cheek. Suddenly he leaned down and kissed you, hard. The hand on his face went to wrap around his neck while the one previously at your side ended up tangled in his hair. You tasted booze and hints of sweet grape from jello shots as he licked your lip. When you opened your mouth there was something else on his tongue which you classified as “fuck-why-have-we-been-doing-anything-but-this.” No matter what the catalyst was you were gone.

The next morning you woke up with a pounding headache and messy hair. On your right, Jake was sprawled on his stomach with one tattooed arm thrown over your hip. As you started to shift he groaned and tightened his hold on you. Reaching over to scratch your nails against his scalp, you spoke in a scratchy voice, “I’m just getting coffee, you big baby.” When you came back with the mugs full of steaming liquid, Jake’s with an extra splash of cream, you both sat against the headboards quietly. Minutes passed but it was Jake who broke the silence, “(Y/N), you know, I’m so sorry,” he said in a nervous jumble. You didn’t know what you were expecting him to say but it wasn’t that.

“I just really, really don’t want to fuck us up. You’re so important to me and I just can’t not talk to you every day. It’s not something I can live with,” he continued. When you peered over at him he wasn’t looking back at you but rather locking his eyes on a chip on his mug that he worried with his thumb. Your chest felt tight and your chin wobbled a bit. If Jake was trying not to ruin your friendship then you would have to try too. So you steeled your emotions and forced your hands not to shake as you brought the mug to your lips.

And that was that.

Until the holiday party. Where the same thing happened, except the next morning he didn’t say anything. Instead, when you moved to get coffee he held your wrist back and insisted he take you out to a diner. While you would really rather him not tell you that last night was a mistake in front of witnesses, you still threw on a hoodie and did your best to tame your hair though you didn’t bother attempting anything for the dark circles under your eyes. The surprising part was that when you got to the diner he didn’t say anything about the night prior. He even went so far as to order for you before you could even open your mouth. Caramel french toast with strawberries and powdered sugar. And when the food came to your table, he even went so far as to nudge the syrup in your direction.

He never brought it up. And he didn’t the next day. Or the next. But then he pulled you into a corner at Bo’s New Year’s Eve party, planting his lips on yours until you found yourself slipping out the door with him with over thirty minutes remaining until midnight. Whether you liked it or not once was an accident, twice was a coincidence, three was a pattern, and after that… Well, you had simply stopped counting once you got to eleven. Stopped trying to make sense of it. Just went with it.

You’re broken from your memories by Troy and Emma coming back to the table to get their things. With the night winding down and your group dispersing, some realities occurred to you. Jake had picked you up at your apartment earlier in the evening and both of you had planned that he would take you home at the end of the night. Apparently, he had forgotten. Or maybe he just didn’t care. You weren’t sure which was worse: being thrown to the side for a blonde at the bar or being such a blip on your best friend’s radar that he would totally forget about your existence.

“Hey, would you guys be able to give me a ride home by any chance?” you asked, drawing their attention to you. The couple shared a look before nodding along. You grabbed your bag and jacket before scurrying out of the booth and following behind them, not sparing Jake a glance. Slipping into the backseat of Troy’s car, you reminded him of your address. They had the radio turned up lowly so you could vaguely hear the tune but not quite catch the lyrics. You looked at your phone for a few moments before Emma spoke.

“Didn’t Jake drive you?” You held in a sigh at her loaded question. While you had never spoken about your situation with Jake to anyone, not even Jake himself, you knew other people noticed that there was something going on between the two of you. It wasn’t like you were particularly cautious, nothing you and Jake did was well thought out, the two of you had surely drunkenly made out in too bright of a corner or stumbled out the door a bit too loudly. And everyone had likely discussed whatever the two of you were doing after you left. And Jake might have even talked about your situation during late-night card games on roadies. And… You snapped yourself out of the weird self-analyzing pity show to answer Emma and save yourself from hyperventilating in your friends’ car.

“He did,” you began, “but he was… busy, and I didn’t want to get in his way.” You were sitting behind Emma so you had a much better view of Troy as he reacted to your answer. He squinted before looking over at his girlfriend with a raised brow. Emma’s only response was a mumbled, “Oh.”

As Troy pulled up in front of your building, you were glad that they didn’t push further. You thanked them profusely for the ride before jumping out and speed walking into your apartment. You closed and locked the door as soon as you got in before pouring yourself a glass of water. One glance at your phone showed that you had many texts waiting for you and one flash of Jake’s name had you powering the device all the way off and plugging it in. You wiped your makeup off and rubbed in your favorite rich moisturizer. Even though it was still fairly early, you felt exhausted with emotions that you shouldn’t have. Nevertheless, you took a melatonin gummy for good measure and brushed your teeth before encasing yourself in blankets and waiting for sleep.

When you woke up to the morning sun on your face, you got up purposefully avoiding your phone. After drinking a cup of coffee you decided to cook a healthy breakfast. Maybe if you detoxed your body a bit it would help to detox Jake from your mind. When you were finished you sat at the counter. You couldn’t stop flashing through every moment with Jake, looking for hidden meanings in his actions and replaying his words to search for anything valuable. It was like you couldn’t stop yourself from relishing in the emotional pain. You weren’t sure how much time passed before you tasted metal and realized you had been chewing up your lip in thought.

This simply wouldn’t work. No more wallowing, you decided. Cleaning up the pans and dishes you had used with a bit more elbow grease than you would typically use you shoved everything back in its typical place. You stopped yourself for a minute as something occurred to you. While you wished it had been an epiphany about moving on or signing up for online dating, you realized that your kitchen organization was completely lacking. Your pots were nowhere near your stove. Your cups weren’t close enough to your sink. Your pantry was a disaster.

Without any hesitation, you started pulling everything out of the cabinets. Before you knew it your counters were covered in plates, glasses, mugs, pans, and a rice cooker. You had just started alphabetizing your spices when you heard a knock on your door. With a loud groan, you ran to the door and swung it open without even looking through the peephole. Standing in the hallway was none other than Jake Virtanen. You stilled your frenzied movements to just stare at him. His eyes were sharp as they studied your face.

“Can I come in,” you barely heard his words but they somehow woke you up and you opened the door wider before spinning around and racing back into your kitchen. Your heart pounded wildly as you went back to work. Nerves coursed through your veins so you weren’t being productive but rather picking up an item and setting it down in a slightly different place. The sound of Jake’s footsteps followed you and you could feel him hovering.

“Um… (Y/N)?”

“Yes, Jake?”

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He paused for a minute to watch you scramble around like a chicken with its head cut off.

“I honestly have no idea.” You huffed and forced your hands to still on the counter top.

“I’m organizing my kitchen.” You forced your face into an expression that could be read as ‘duh’ but given your flushed cheeks and wild eyes, it didn’t seem to translate.

“Can we talk about what happened last night,” Jake asked. While you hadn’t assumed this was a typical social visit, his question reignited your panic and you resumed your pottering around the kitchen. At first, Jake just seemed bewildered but after a loud clang erupted from two pots you were moving from one side of the counter to the other his eyebrows furrowed into a scowl and he snapped, “(Y/N), do you mind?”

You threw up your hands and turned to him as he continued, “I want to talk to you and have you actually listen like a normal person instead of doing… whatever it is that you’re doing over there.”

“Talk about what,” you asked, partially trying to buy time and partially trying to seem blase.

“About last night.”

“Nothing happened last night, Jake.”

“I watched you leave with Troy and Emma. You just left, (Y/N).”

“So? You were busy, I wanted to go home.” Without you even realizing it, Jake was taking steps towards you until you glanced up from the floor to find him right in front of you. He reached out his hand to hold your arm. Whether he was trying to comfort you or prevent you from escaping you weren’t sure. The spot where his skin met yours sent tingles down your spine that you forced yourself not to react to.

“When you left, I called Troy,” he said. Now this was news to you. Before you could interject Jake spoke again, “I had been trying to text and call you but you weren’t answering so I finally called Troy. He said you left without me because of that girl.” You tried to pull away but his hand around your arm tightened.

“You were jealous,” Jake said. It wasn’t a question, but a statement. You glared at him, you couldn’t believe that he would come to your apartment just to embarrass you about your feelings for him.

“I wasn’t jealous. I have no right to be jealous about what or who you do,” you snapped. He threw his head back and sighed.

“That’s the fucking point, (Y/N). I want you to have the right to be jealous.”

Your heart stopped. Your mind stopped. You looked up at him just to see his eyes boring into yours.

“What,” you asked hazily.

“You heard me. I want you to have the right to be jealous.”

“B-but what does that mean?”

“It means… I love you, okay? I love you and I want to be with you and I want you to be jealous even though you don’t ever have to be. Because you’re the only one I see in a crowded room. Because every time we go to a wedding I imagine it’s us standing up there in front of our friends and family. Because I can’t fucking stand being away from you. Because you’re the most important person in my life,” he said emphatically, vehemently.

“You love me?”

“Yeah, (Y/N), I love you,” he said with a smile on his face. This all felt so confusing and so surreal and you wanted to pinch yourself because this couldn’t be real life. In real life, Jake was the one who decided that the two of you were friends with benefits. Jake was the one who didn’t want to take it any further. Jake was the one who talked with girls at bars.

“Since when,” you murmured. Jake’s smile only brightened.

“Since always,” he told you.

“But, Jake, you said you didn’t want to ruin our friendship. You never seemed like you wanted to take us any further, where is this coming from?” At your words, Jake released your arm and rubbed his palm along his face. The tables turned and now he was the one pacing through your kitchen.

“I thought you wanted that. I thought you were going to tell me that it was all a mistake, that you didn’t really like me.” His words made your stomach squeeze and it felt like you had been slapped in the face. As much as you wished you could wrap your arms around him and kiss him madly, telling him that of course you wouldn’t do that. Because he was Jake and you were you and that would never be a mistake. But you knew that if you fell into him now you wouldn’t get clarity, so you pushed on. “Then what have we been doing? If you were so scared, if you really felt that way, why did we keep happening?”

Jake stopped his pacing and shoved his hands in his pockets. He refused to look at you, trailing his eyes along the mess in your kitchen and the pictures on your fridge before settling on the floor.

“I couldn’t keep myself away from you. I thought that if that was all I could have with you it would still be better than nothing,” his words were quiet but you still heard him. You forced yourself to take a deep breath and you opened your mouth to speak before Jake interrupted you.

“But then I called Troy last night asking where you were, what happened to you… and he said that you liked me too and I needed to snap out of whatever I was doing and man up,” he brought his eyes up to yours, “he said he was sick of me whining about you like a lovesick puppy and that I needed to, quote, go get my girl.”

His eyes read nothing but love and sincerity. You trusted and believed him. You didn’t want to stumble around your feelings anymore so you stepped forward until you were chest to chest.

“I love you too, Jake,” you said drawing your hand up to his neck. His face erupted into a smile, but instead of leaning in to kiss you, he spoke.

“Do you want to do this thing with me?” Your responding laugh was watery but he waited for your response.

“What? Being in love?”

“Well, yes, that’s pretty important. But I meant being in a real relationship. Y’know? Hold hands in public, change our relationship statuses on Facebook, the whole deal.”

“You don’t even use Facebook,” you teased. He groaned dramatically but the smile seemed to be glued to his face.

“You know what I mean,” he said, “do you want to do this thing with me?”

Jake’s eyes sparkled and you bit your lip. You didn’t deign his question with a response, just brought the hand that rested on his neck down so you could capture his lips in a kiss. For a few blissful moments, it was just you and him. You arched your back to press yourself more fully against him as he planted one hand on your hip as the other snaked up your back. As he moved to press scorching hot open-mouthed kisses down your throat he broke the silence.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

You pulled on his hair until his mouth was back against yours and you whispered against his lips an answering yes.

And if Troy Stecher whistled and hooted an “I told you so,” when you and Jake showed up to the next Canucks gathering, hands tightly intertwined… well, would he be wrong?

#jake virtanen #jake virtanen imagine #vancouver canucks #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #nhl fic #vancouver canucks imagine #j.virtanen

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marilynlamantia · 3 years ago

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How to Lose Stomach Fat Without Exercise or Dieting

Losing weight is an extremely popular fitness goal: over half of Americans list it as important to them. Many people consider their stomachs to be especially troublesome, and research shows that visceral fat (around the internal organs) is the most dangerous to your health. While you will not achieve major weight loss without diet and exercise, there are a few things you can do to slim your stomach line without heading to the gym or starving yourself.

Method 1

Mimicking Weight Loss Temporarily

Step 1

Try tummy-control garments. There have never been more options in the undergarment industry for clothing that tighten, firm, and shapes the midsection. Made mainstream by Spanx, tummy-control garments are available in many types for people of most sizes.

Women's undergarments include tummy-control pantyhose, panties, high-waisted shorts, bodysuits, camisoles, and tank tops made of Lycra, elastic, or some combination. Most mainstream undergarment brands for women carry control top styles, but the most popular include Spanx, Soma, and TC Shaping. Buy your normal size and expect it to run small.

There are many options for men, including Spanx or Sculptees brand tank tops for men that target the abdominals. These are essentially compression shirts that whittle the appearance of the midsection. While results will vary, these companies claim their products can reduce the midsection by 3 – 5 inches (7.6 – 12.7 cm).

Step 2

Take advantage of current trends in corseting and waist training. This method involves wearing a binding garment across the abdomen. If done in moderation, corseting can create a thinner silhouette without any other lifestyle changes.

Some celebrities swear by corseting as a weight loss mechanism, and although doctors say it won't actually help you lose fat cells, it can help you lose weight by cinching in your stomach as you eat so that you don't have as much room to overeat. In addition, the fat cell can expand or shrink, according to how much fat it is storing.

Be careful about wearing these too tight or too frequently. Because they can reduce your stomach capacity, you might vomit after eating even a normal-sized meal. They can also contribute to heartburn and compress your organs.

Purchase your corset at a store with a knowledgeable sales staff, who can help you fit it correctly and learn to lace it appropriately so that it is not too tight.

Step 3

Consider a body wrap. Body wraps are spa treatments that claim to detoxify and slim the midsection. With training, these can also be done at home. While the process can vary, most involve several steps and the application of several types of body products.

The aesthetician will start by massaging and applying a body scrub to your midsection, which will then be rinsed in a shower. The body scrub will contain a variety of herbs and minerals thought to cleanse the skin of impurities and reduce the appearance of fat or cellulite.

The body will then be rubbed with a lotion or oil containing other emollients and properties.

Next, the midsection will be securely wrapped in linen, plastic, or thermal sheets, and then an electric heated blanket will be used to warm the body for about 30 minutes, which will cause sweating. This step, in particular, is thought to remove impurities and reduce the appearance of fat.

After removing the blanket and wraps, the midsection will be massaged again to increase blood flow.

While this process is not supported for weight loss, many clients feel that it reduces the appearance of stomach fat and cellulite, especially with repeated treatments. Due to the sweating process (and loss of water weight), it is not uncommon for clients to experience a loss of a couple of inches, although this will be temporary.

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Step 4

Reduce your water weight. The body can retain water for various reasons, giving a bloated appearance, particularly around the waist. Reducing water weight will temporarily slim the waistline.

Hydrate. In many cases, water retention is the body's effort to prevent dehydration when you are not taking in enough water per day. This is especially true in hotter months. Be sure you are drinking at least eight 8-oz glasses of hydrating fluids a day (or 2 liters), which will help flush out your system and reduce bloating and puffiness.

Reduce your sodium intake. Excess salt causes the body to retain water. Processed foods and restaurant foods are the major sources of sodium for the average American. These foods account for about 75% of the sodium in the diet. You should consume no more than 1,500 mg of sodium per day, which is a little over 1/2 teaspoon of salt.

Reduce your alcohol and coffee consumption. These drinks are known to cause dehydration, which can cause water retention in the body (as the body struggles to hold onto whatever water it can).

Method 2

Changing Your Lifestyle

Step 5

Avoid swallowing air. This might seem like a strange suggestion, but swallowed air is one of the biggest causes of bloating, which contributes to a rounder midsection. Simply reducing the amount of air you swallow throughout the day can trim down your tummy measurements.

Avoid carbonated beverages, even those with zero calories like carbonated water. Beverages with air in them fill your abdomen with air, which causes a bloated appearance.

Avoid smoking. Smokers who inhale smoke also tend to swallow it, which bloats their stomachs.

Avoid chewing gum and talking while eating. Both of these habits lead to swallowed air.

Step 6

Practice good posture. Changing the way you carry yourself and sit won't make stomach fat disappear, but it will make you look slimmer by helping your body fat distribute properly across the torso rather than gathering at the midsection. Try to keep your upper body straight, your shoulders pulled back, and your head high.

When you sit, your buttocks should touch the back of your chair, and all three normal back curves should be present in your back (meaning a small towel or washcloth rolled up should fit above your buttocks)

When you stand, keep your shoulders back, pull in your stomach, and keep your feet about a hip-width apart.

If you're willing to do a little exercise, movements that strengthen your core and back can make it easier to maintain your posture while tightening up the muscles around your midsection. Try adding a few light crunches and easy back exercises to your schedule as you improve your posture.

Step 7

Get enough sleep. Sleeping doesn't burn fat on its own, but it is a crucial part of weight loss efforts. This is mainly because sleep deprivation (not getting enough sleep) makes most aspects of weight loss more difficult. When you aren't well-rested, it's hard to motivate yourself to get up and move. It's also hard to control cravings: you're more likely to act on impulses to eat junk food when you're already drained of energy

While everyone's sleep needs are different, the majority of adults need about seven to nine hours per night. Children and elderly people tend to need more.

Step 8

Find a fitness-positive support network. Surrounding yourself with people who are committed to healthy living can help you live healthier. Hanging out with health-conscious people gives you more opportunities to participate in activities that lead to weight loss. Make an effort to spend time with people who enjoy hobbies that promote healthy living, like walking, sports, cycling, nutritious home cooking, and so on. Limit your time with people who have unhealthy hobbies like eating junk food, binge drinking, and watching hour after hour of television.

If you don't have anyone in your family or circle of friends who is interested in health-conscious activities, don't be afraid to make new contacts. Join an intramural sports team or start participating in pickup games at your local park. Take a healthy cooking course or join a spin class at your local community center. There are many healthy ways to meet people — it's up to you!

Step 9

Start tracking your weight. Some nutrition experts suggest that having an accurate idea of your own weight can promote healthy living.[14] Keeping track of your weight forces you to think healthy — if the numbers on the scale start to go up, you'll know that it's time to reconsider your habits.

A person's weight can fluctuate by as much as 10 pounds from day to day. To get an accurate average, measure yourself at the same time every day (like right after you get up). At the end of the week, add up your measurements and divide by seven. The number you get will be close to your "true" average weight.

Why is it important to have good sitting posture when you're trying to minimize stomach fat?

Method 3

Changing Your Eating Habits

Step 10

Drink plenty of water. If you drink soda, sports drinks, flavored coffees with sugar and cream, or other high-calorie beverages throughout the day, try replacing them with water. You'll get the same level of hydration and fullness while cutting down on your calories. Keep it up and you can achieve mild weight loss without any extra effort.

The health benefits of water are well-documented. Drinking water energizes muscles, keeps skin looking healthy and clear, and provides a boost of energy. Best of all, it's zero-calorie, so you can drink as much as you want. See our tips on working water into your daily schedule for more great ideas.

Don't be fooled into swapping soda for fruit juice, which is full of calories. The process of juicing removes all the healthy fiber from fruit and leaves nothing but sugar behind. Stick with water or zero-calorie flavored waters for the most tummy-friendly hydration.

Step 11

Eat smaller meals more frequently. Instead of three large meals a day, try eating several smaller meals of a few hundred calories. This can reset your hunger cues so that you will know when you are actually hungry versus eating out of habit.

One convenient way to reduce your portion sizes is simply to use a smaller plate. Smaller plates can make the same amount of food appear larger due to something called the Delboeuf illusion.[18] You're essentially "tricking" your brain into being satisfied with less food.

Step 12

Measure out each serving of food. Don't trust your eyes to tell you how much to eat — instead, use your brain. With recent trends in commercial cuisine tending towards large portions, many people now have a distorted idea of what a normal portion of food looks like. Use measuring cups and the information on the "Nutrition Facts" section of your food's packaging to ensure you eat one serving at a time. You may even want to invest in a simple food scale.

Many common foods have serving sizes that are easy to visually memorize. A few common examples are below (you can view more here):

Vegetables and fruit: about the size of your fist

Meat, fish, or poultry: about the size of your palm (minus the fingers)

Cheese or fatty spreads: about the size of your thumb

Carbohydrates (rice, pasta, etc.): about the size of a cupcake wrapper

Step 13

Eat breakfast. Many Americans skip breakfast and then overcompensate for their resulting hunger by overeating at lunch and dinner.

Ensure that your breakfast contains at least one item from three food groups: dairy, fruit, and grains.

If you are on a high-protein, low-carbohydrate diet, you could have eggs and cheese. The important thing is that food intake in the morning actually gets your metabolism going, and you do not remain in the fasting state

A healthy breakfast for a 150-pound adult is about 300 – 400 calories.

Step 14

Make smart food choices. A healthy diet is more friendly to the waistline than a non-healthy one, even if the calorie content is the same. It's both possible and essential to still eat healthy when you're not dieting.

Eat fresh fruits and vegetables instead of processed snacks. Processed foods have added preservatives, artificial ingredients, and are often full of carbohydrates, sugar, and fat. Fresh foods give you more nutrition per calorie than processed, carbohydrate-heavy snack foods like chips or crackers. Processed foods also tend to contain more salt, which retains fluid and can lead to excess weight stored around the midsection.

Never snack directly out of the bag or carton. One study found that people given a large bucket of popcorn ate 44% more popcorn than those given smaller buckets. It's much easier to overeat when a large portion of food is in front of you. Instead, pour one serving of the snack into a bowl, then put the package away.

Step 15

Keep your portions under control when you eat away from home. Controlling portions at home when you sit down for a meal is often easier than at a restaurant, where portions sizes for one meal often contain the recommended calories for one person for an entire day, or at a friend's house, where you cannot control what goes into the meal. Luckily, there are a few things you can do to control your portion size in places where you don't have perfect control over your food:

Plan what you will order ahead of time. Many restaurants have websites with complete nutritional information for their menus, so you can make a smart choice before you even leave your house.

When you're at a restaurant, ask the waiter to bring a takeout container at the same time as your food. Measure out one portion, then put the rest in the container right away. You'll be less tempted to mindlessly continue eating as you talk with your companions.

When dining at another person's house, don't be afraid to ask for a small portion. This way you can clean your plate, instead of leaving a portion of food behind and potentially offending your host.

When shopping, pick individually-sized foods, rather than foods that come in large containers. For instance, instead of buying a carton of ice cream, pick up a package of popsicles or ice cream sandwiches.

Step 16

Switch to foods that leave you feeling fuller longer. When it comes to reducing your tummy line, it's not all about how much you eat, but also what you eat that counts. Certain foods give short "bursts" of energy and satisfaction, but leave you hungry before your next meal. Instead of these foods, focus on alternatives that offer long-term satisfaction.

Filling foods that offer longer periods of satisfaction include whole-grain bread, rice, and pasta, oats, nuts, water, lean meats and fish, eggs, green vegetables, beans, and legumes.

Non-filling foods include sodas, processed snack foods, "white" bread, rice, and pasta, candy, and starches.

Step 17

Eat slowly. When you eat quickly, you can swallow a surprising amount of food before you start to feel full and satisfied. On the other hand, eating slowly gives you plenty of time to feel full and stop eating before you've consumed more calories than you need. There is even evidence that this can promote the release of specific hormones that are responsible for the feeling of fullness in the brain.

Take time to eat your food. Concentrate on chewing each bite 10 – 20 times and take sips of water between each bite. Set the fork or spoon down between each bite. If you can, eat with someone else so you can pause to chat during your meal.

Try setting a timer for 20 – 30 minutes at the start of your meal. Pace yourself so that you don't take the last bite until the timer goes off.

When you finish your food, take a break from eating, even if you still feel a little hungry. Give your body a chance to register as having a full stomach, which can sometimes take a while. Only help yourself to seconds if you still feel hungry after another half an hour.

Step 18

Eat-in peaceful, quiet locations. Research suggests that eating in relaxing environments leads people to eat less overall. On the other hand, eating in loud, busy, chaotic environments can lead to over-eating. While the root cause isn't certain, this may be because these sorts of situations distract from feelings of fullness by creating mild anxiety.

One common cause for rushed, panicked eating is being late to school or work. Fixing this is a matter of adjusting your schedule. Consider getting up earlier so you have a chance to enjoy a relaxed breakfast before you leave.

Step 19

Record your meals. Merely keeping track of what you eat can be an enlightening experience. You may be surprised to learn that you normally eat more than you think you do. Try writing your meals and snacks in a notebook you carry with you every day. Be sure to note the number of servings you eat for each as well as the calorie content per serving.

There are also a variety of free websites and apps that make it convenient to keep track of your daily food choices.

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