#falling off things into pits or missing jumps

[fembot-y2k]

DUSK was kinda mid to me and im tired of pretending it wasn't

[evieelyzabethh]

"taste"

☆"you're wonderin' why half his clothes went missin', my body's where they're at"☆ Wearing Arcane characters clothes {fem reader}

cast ✧ Vi, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel

cw☞ slightly pervy jayce, a bit of fluff, Viktor calls reader a whore, a bit suggestive for all of them

an: this is the case for all my titles, but I feel I should clarify; the songs are not meant to accompany the headcanons, I just get lazy when naming things so I cherry pick song lyrics then use the title lol.

♞Vi♞

♞Vi never thought she would have to worry about her clothes going missing. They're all tattered and torn, holey from all the times she's been cut or stabbed, blood stained from all her injuries throughout the years, and absolutely falling apart at the seams. Hell, her own shirts are so ruined she usually just walks around in chest binding bandages. Granted, stealing Vi's clothes started from an accident of convenience.

You didn't think anything of it as you slipped on the old thing, the writing so faded you could no longer make out the outlines of the letters and the color so sun-bleached it just looked a dull beige. There were holes along the shoulder blade, rib cage, and chest, the hems had long since unraveled, and the neckline had been cut. It Vi wasn't so averse to throwing things out, it's home would've been the garbage can ages ago. But still, it was comfy and clean and something of hers, so you pulled it over your head and carried on into the laundry room where you sat on top of your washing unit, vibrating along with the clunky machine beneath you. You decided to read as you wait, eventually become so engrossed with your book, you miss the sounds of Vi trudging her heavy feet across the floor as she returns from her most recent bout of getting her ass kicked. She hums her way around the space, painfully shrugging her jacket over her aching shoulders, enroute to the laundry room where she finds you, ankles crossed with some old mystery book in your hands. She gawks at you for a moment, not quite knowing what to say at the sight of you in her clothing. It looked good on you. Well, everything looked good on you, but this looked right. "Did you get all dressed up for me, pretty? You jump a bit at the sudden intrusion of her slightly gravelly voice, but eventually relax into her warm, musky presence. She knows how you feel about her smearing her bloody lips across your freshly showered skin, so she bites her lip to swallow her urges. "Depends, did you get yourself all battered just so I could patch you up?" She snickers, wiping the remnants of dried blood from her top lip. "Will my honest earn me a pre-shower kiss?" Of course, you nod your head. You have a very hard time denying her, not even bothered by the feeling of her gauze bound hands grip on your thighs and your skin beneath her shirt. She whimpers, leaning heavily onto the washer, her fingers likely leaving marks from how desperately she grabs at you for stability and her own sanity. She doesn't realize until the adrenaline wears off how much tonight did a toll on her, pulling away from the kiss to rest her head on your shoulder. "You need help to the shower?" "Yeah", she murmurs, hardly louder than a whisper, holding onto your waist as you hop down and sling your arm over her shoulder. "No more pit fighting for a while?", you question lightly, to which she responds by pulling a hefty bag of coins from her pants pocket. "Not for a few months."

★Ekko★

★Ekko has a commune, he is absolutely no stranger to sharing, especially when it comes to clothes. As many times as you have snuck a few of his jackets over the years, he has taken his fair share of your tops, liking the way they constrict and show the definition of his biceps and show off his sculpted lower abdomen. You swap rings, hair ties, and all sorts of accessories, it's another way that you two are visually all over each other. I also wouldn't be surprised if he was the type to buy things knowing they would eventually end up in your closet.

★This being said, you would have better luck getting a reaction out of him showing up wearing nothing rather than in his clothes, at least clothes that aren't important to him. He's so desensitized to the idea of sharing; a regular hoodie wouldn't get him going. Wearing something of his though, his jacket, his mask, replicating how he does his face paint, that would certainly get him. It's the explicit connection to him that gets him, it's you proudly wearing an echo of Ekko.

It was cold and wet and dreary. The sky was grey, and murky puddles formed in the innumerable cracks and crevasses in the dirty floor of the Undercity that the ground began to look like a muddy sea of water. It was the perfect day to be inside, maybe make some warm soup, put on a vinyl and pretend the crackley sound bites are early lightning bolts, and bundle up beside Ekko and call it a day before the sun went down. This was not the case as Ekko was out covering the gardens so they wouldn't be flooded by impure water and preparing for any potential storm surge, leaving you home alone, wrapped in his favorite jacket. You doubted it would be a big deal, it's not like he's ever been upset about borrowing his clothes without asking before, but his reaction when he returns home scares you for a moment. His eyes are closed as he walks through the door, carelessly toeing off his shoes, lifting up his already soaked shirt to wipe the running face paint before it gets into his eyes. From your place on the couch, you look out the window for the first time in hours to see it pouring down, the droplets pelting on your windows and the wind sending the occasional pebble flying at the glass. "I'm telling Scar to do this shit next time, it's too damn w- oh." He freezes, midway through yanking off his raincoat, eye's slightly irritated as they stare at you. oh? "Is that my jacket?" You falter a bit. "Yeah...is that ok?" You had no plans of going out in it, wearing only some old cotton shorts whose elastic waistband snapped years ago and a thin tank top. You didn't even have a bra on. He collects himself though, smirking as he looks you up and down, how good the color compliments your complexion, drinking in the slivers of skin, the sight of your nipples through your top. Of course it's ok, in what fucking world would it not be? "Yea, baby, it's fine." His mumbles, his voice lower and his eyes a bit wide. "You look good in it, too. C'mere, do a spin for me."

❂Jayce❂

❂This man is 6'7 and built like a brick shithouse, his clothes absolutely swallow you and he thinks it's adorable. He gets a fit of cuteness aggression, he just wants to squeeze and hug and kiss you until you pop. It speaks to that part of him that is quite aware of his sheer size, his biceps are the size of your head, you have to look up just to make eye contact with him, his clothes practically fall right off you. He's just so...big.

He awakes slightly startled and feeling empty, immediately feeling your lack of warmth in his arms and slightly panicking. It's too early in the morning to be rational and his frequent nightmares are doing him no favors. He hates waking up alone and cold, he feels like he's waking up in that cave again. His senses calm his rapidly beating heart, the comforting smell of coffee and something syrupy sweet, the sound of something sizzling on the stove. He throws the comforter off him, cringing at the feel of the cold floor on his feet before he throws on some socks and sweatpants to wander around half-asleep in. His brain short circuits when he sees you, his large shirt practically hanging off your shoulders, flowing around your bruised and kiss-bitten thighs. You moved lithely around the kitchen, going back from chopping strawberries for the waffles, stirring the eggs, flipping the bacon, and he's man enough to admit he's blushing a bit. You made breakfast for him! That's so cute. He slides behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, bending down to plant kisses on your neck. "My shirt looks really good on you, gorgeous." You giggle, turning around to face the big man behind you who picks you up by your hips to set you on the countertop, settling in between your thighs. "You think?" He hums. "Maybe a few sizes too big, but it's endearing. You look like a little fairy, like I could carry you around in my pocket all day." And his eyes are big and out of focus, that charming gap-toothed smile on display as his hands rub over your smooth skin, pushing his shirt higher and higher. Too big is certainly a familiar sentiment, how desperately you were crying that out just last night is still looping in his brain as he says it. "Maybe I'm normal sized, and you're just a giant. Have you ever thought of it that way?" He chuckles. More times than you can imagine.

☽Viktor☾

☽Hard immediately, next question. His work outfits look completely normal on him, but the buttons pop at your chest and the vests accentuate them in a way that's pornographic. Even his ties only serve to enhance the fantasy, even though they are the exact garments he wears to his lab every day. There is nothing innately sexual about it at all, but that's the fun of it. The fact thar you chose to wear that black lacy bra that you knew would show through the top, the way you wear his reading glasses low on your nose, the red bottom heels that you wear, which in any other context could be seen as perfectly appropriate work attire. It's the performance of it that he appreciates.

He knows exactly what game you are trying to play with him, no matter how hard you try and play coy. There is no way that you accidently shrunk your blouse in the wash, hell, he knows that's not your blouse because the buttons are on the wrong side for it to be female attire. He knows that's his tie, he is one thousand percent sure that if he was to yank you by it and check the underside, he would see his initials embroidered. He knows you left it loose on purpose, you have requested for the entire relationship to pick out and tie his ties for him, he knows you can make it tighter. Everything is utterly loose, for lack of a better word. The top button is undone, the tie isn't completely tucked under the collar, the slit of your skirt is not where it should be. It's a play at looking professional that you and him both know is just a test to see how long it takes for him to crack and rush you both home. At first, he's willing to play ball because you always crack first, but today, however, you decided to be serious about your productivity. He tries to focus, he really does, but after a while the clicking of your heels becomes too hypnotic, the fake attempts at adjusting your tie begin to pile onto the sexual frustration, and you lean over one too many times, giving him a good whiff of your perfume and oh you went with a red bra to match his red tie. He waits for Jayce to leave the room, slamming the book he was 'reading' shut as he lets out a very aggravated breath. "I want my shirt back." Cut and dry, his hand flipping the tie you're wearing to confirm that is indeed his. You smirk, and he would feel the need to wipe it off your face had it not been for the fact that he swallowed his pride hours ago after his hard on became too much to ignore. "You want it back now? Right here." And you're already slipping off the other buttons and he contemplates whether it's worth it to barricade the door with the table to buy you more time or be rational and tell you to stop. "Had I known you planned on being a whore today, I wouldn't have invited you over." You pout as he pulls the knot of his tie, grabbing your hands to bind your hands. "But don't I look pretty, Vik?" He rolls his eyes. "You look magnificent, love."

☼Mel☼

☼Like Ekko, she isn't a stranger to sharing clothes with you. Even if it's not hers, she has an exact replica tailored just for you. This being said, she loves playing dress up with you with her clothes. Anytime she needs to clear out her closet or has an article of clothing she doesn't know how to feel about or just gets bored, she'll call you to wherever she is and request you be her doll for a little bit.

Though you had been in Mel's closet for what had to have been hours at this point, you couldn't really complain. Never had you felt more pampered in your life, tens of gowns, trousers, and blouses gracing your skin as you twirled on the platform in Mel's closet as she analyzed the garment from every angle. Now you stood in something white and flowy, the sleeves long, the bodice double lined for winter weather, the hemline off the shoulders and trimmed with fur, the bottom thick and heavy. "What do you think lovey? Do you think it's too on the nose, you know I've never been the biggest fan of fur." Her hand feels across your chest, dusting off where some of the fluff had fallen and rubbing the soft material in her hands. "I don't see you in fur, it's too much of your mother's thing, but I do think it's nice. The lining is really nice on the skin, sorta has a fleece feel to it." She nods, moving her hands along your waist to connect with the silver zipper. She clucks her tongue. "Would I be silly to not wear it because the zipper isn't gold. I know it's a miniscule detail, but I really don't do silver." You chuckle as you look around her closet, a room larger than the bedroom you grew up in filled with racks of clothes that had some sort of golden sheen, be it from the color of the fabric, some sort of metallic accent, or a reflection from the general vibe of the room. "My love, you have so many clothes in here I doubt you would wear it regardless." She smiles. "Are you getting tired of this." You hesitate, which is plenty answer enough for her. You had been standing for hours at this point, and your back was starting to ache from how straight your back had been. "Do you have it in you for just one more. I promise, it'll be quick." She already has it out of the box, a very small party dress that you had never seen her wear before. "I bought it months ago but have been going back and forth between whether or not it would look better on me or you." Of course, you oblige, and she giggles as she zips you out of the dress, carefully sliding it off until the fabric pools around your nearly naked body. Her tunnel vision is briefly abandoned as her movements slow, lingering over the curves of her body, her fingernail tracing tiny hearts on the skin of your chest. "I know I say this every time, but you truly do look beautiful out of everything. Undressing you may be my favorite part of this." You playfully roll your eyes. "Stop being a flirt and just zip me into the dress, I want lunch."

[byfulcrums]

been rewatching rtte

toothless is called T multiple times, but the letter T doesn't exist in the alphabet of this world

i think hiccup was also called H???

hiccup went to the wedding of the man who tried to kill him and his family multiple times. no wonder he thought he could change drago's mind

snotlout is canonically a theater kid

"you're so small and cuddly" "please never say that again"

the twins are really smart, but they're also just stupid

hiccup straight up disappears when he's working on something

heather had a super noticeable crush on astrid

fishlegs got a love interest!! a plus size main character actually has a cool, badass love interest!

it was super hetnormative but it was cute

there was an island full of flying women who were implied to regularly commit cannibalism

hiccup taught all the riders how to fly with toothless, that's so sweet

everyone is a flat earther except for the twins

hiccup almost directly killed a lot of people

and killed a LOT more when destroying their ships

“scalding– cal..ding--" "toothle, plama bla!" was pretty much the funniest part of the entire series

dagur was bullied as a kid by a guy 8 years older than him who literally tattooed an imagine of him beating up little dagur in his arm??? What was that all about

actually we need to talk about how messed up everything about dagur is and about how the things that could've/did happen(ed) to him may be the reasons why he's Like That

just why was he imprisoned by the outcasts??? he didn't do anything to them directly

oof my brain is spiraling. "he loved you" "ig now we'll never know" what do you mean he didn't know if his dad loved him

there's a technically musical episode

tuffnut became hiccup's defense attorney and immediately got him the death sentence

hiccup regularly jumps off cliffs

he also jumped off a boat, with his arms tied and without toothless. just where did he think he was going

snotlout's annoying attitude is actually because spitelout pressures him too much and he feels like he has to be perfect for his dad :((

THE 'HICCUP'S EVIL MIRROR' VILLAIN THEME DONE RIGHT YESS!!!

viggo is the best httyd villain change my mind (you can't, swords at sundown, you may bring backup but i will win on my own)

skrill comeback skrill comeback SKRILL COMEBACK!!!!

"COMEEE TO DADDY"

what is a boar pit???

oh my god i had missed this series so much. it has no right to be this funny

this was my childhood. it has forever shaped the way i am

berserker heather the unhinged >>>

actually good disability rep! yay

hiccup complains about his peg leg pinching him

he straight up cannot walk without it and it is shown many times

"well, there are the benefits of a metal leg" after it got caught in a bear trap

funny moments, like snotlout trying to steal it to use it as a weapon

the jokes!! toothless laughing at the jokes!!! hiccup being so fucking done with the twins, who are always making the jokes!

there's an episode where everyone is so sleep deprived they actually start spiraling

astrid becomes a happy go lucky girl, hugs snotlout and tells him he's handsome

the fucking mood swings snotlout got were insane

the twins were straight up just hallucinating

"i sent them to wash their dragons, how could they mess that up?" cut to heather falling on her face with a bucket full of water in her hands

fishlegs becomes so paranoid, he's yelling at everyone all the time

"don't you know the trapper's trap can trap the trapper?? ...oh gods, i must be losing it, i'm quoting dagur"

YOOOO VALKA!!!! it's so nice to see her

hiccup tried to murder dagur to stop him from getting to toothless, which is scary bc it shows just how far he's willing to go for his bff, but also funny because hiccup. that was not going to work

oh the hiccstrid slowburn, how i have missed you

the twins's made up language

there was a beach episode turned murder mystery and a musical episode held at gun point

hiccup has a whole little speech that he periodically gives astrid to remind her that the twins serve a purpose

[yandere-3-sagau]

Creator Reader With No Powers Except Plot Armor

warning(s): death, mentions of suicide, violence

Reader doesn’t have any special abilities or golden blood so they are unable to prove that they are creator.

However, they also think Teyvat is a dream or they want to go back home so they accept any punishment from the acolytes.

But any time they are going to be executed, there is some divine intervention.

They are about to be burned at the stake but it rains.

They are schedule to be hanged but the rope breaks. They try again but every rope breaks.

They decide to shoot reader with arrows but miraculously every one of them misses. Even the one aimed right at their heart ended up being blocked by a bird flying by.

They are about to be beheaded but the machine breaks. So someone tries to do it manually but lightning strikes and the character loses balance and falls.

With how many times they try to kill reader but fail without them even lifting a finger they begin to believe that they’re truly the creator.

Reader is just going with the flow, not taking anything seriously. They thought they were lucky at first with how they’re able to avoid death.

Later on after they’ve accepted them as their true creator, reader begins to feel homesick and hate Teyvat. They’re swamped with all these responsibilities and expectations that it overwhelms them.

Reader then tries to discard their title as creator. They claim that they’re an imposter and apologizes for “fooling” them. However, no one believes them. They made the mistake of calling them as an imposter once, they’re not gonna make that mistake again.

When that doesn’t work, reader themself tries to die. But the divine interventions that they used to think were amazing ended up sending them into a pit of despair because every attempt they tries, they fail.

They jumps off a high structure/cliff, reader lands on a bunch of water slimes that completely cushion their fall.

Reader tries to stab themself in the heart but a flying rock knocks the knife out of their hand just as it’s about to connect.

Reader tries to ingest a poisonous flower but the effects are nullified when the super rare antidote plant falls off a tree and into their open mouth when they’re unconscious.

It’s like final destination but instead of crazy things happening leading to death, it’s crazy things happening deterring death.

[777heavengirl]

the one where it's easy

sirius black x reader ! - 1,429 words masterlist bags masterlist

Sirius thought it would be easy. Easy to live with you, see your face every day, wake up, and eat breakfast with you, spend almost every waking moment by your side. He had spent his entire life crying for company, permanent company in the place he'd call home. He had it with James, but he knew it was different with you from the second you moved in together. He'd thought it would be easy. But as he stepped into your shared apartment, boots muddy and soaked to the bone, cold droplets falling from his long strands of hair, he knew. It was the hardest thing he had ever done. 

He never thought that seeing you standing, in his t-shirt he was sure you didn't even notice it was his— your laundry mixed together more often than not, in his sweater— deemed the living room jumper, would make his heart clench the way it did. Sock-clad and bouncing to the music that poured from his record player, your back was turned towards him as you cooked.

"Was it bad out? Oh—" You finally turned to look at him. His dark jacket was wet like he had jumped in the ocean, and raindrops still stained his cheeks. You couldn't help but burst out laughing, wooden spoon in hand. "Godric, you look like a wet dog—you're going to catch something, come on—" you said, putting the spoon in the bowl. The half-mixed batter could wait a couple of minutes. You pulled your wand out as he stripped the layers, the bag of your missing ingredients floating out of his hands onto the counter and his jacket dropped to the floor with a heavy, wet thud, his boots coming off soon after. 

He was still speechless, trying to swallow the lump that formed in his throat as he continued to watch you cast spells of warmth and shoo him into his bathroom to shower. Sirius was never one for shyness. The feeling that lurked in the pit of his tummy was one he did not know well, but living with you had forced him to get to know it. He felt shy around you, conscious of the way you fawned over him, of when you baked for the two of you, overly conscious when he baked something. Always wondering what you were thinking- why did you look at him that way? Warmth in your eyes, a small playful smile on your lips like you were biting your tongue from poking fun at him. He felt awfully tender, gross, and cloying in the way that he looked back at you. He wondered if you could tell he’d give you the whole world if you asked for it.

He had largely felt like he had had a half-baked coming of age. Too rushed, innocence lost too fast. Between cruciatus curses and running away. He could always feel himself tripping over the truth of his situation. Harrowing and traumatizing. But living with you had been different, soft, and generous. A home he didn't know could exist. 

He stared at his, still, unpacked trunk as he exited the shower. He didn't know how to unpack. He said he’d do it weeks ago and yet, it remained untouched. Sirius had been living between Hogwarts, excruciating moments at Grimmauld Place, and Potter Manor during the majority of his teens. So now, at 20, he did not know how to make his house a home. Sure the common areas with you were homey. He had made sure of that, he wanted to give you a home. A place to be comfortable and happy. A safe place to come back to every day. But his room, a place you never entered, a place that he himself didn't particularly love being in, stayed cold and stripped. 

He was in your room all the time, sometimes reading in your bed together, splayed over each other a mess of limbs and pillows. He’d burst in the mornings when you struggled to get out of bed, jumping in your bed until you stirred away and shooed him off so you could get ready. Sometimes he’d fall asleep there with you, half off the bed and often waking up sweaty and sticky in the middle of the night, his heart beating in his ears and his fingers reaching for yours unconsciously. 

On the worst nights, when he could hear his mother’s viscous drawl in the back of his mind and his muscles tensed with the ghost of pain, he’d let himself succumb to the urge to curl around you. His fingers intertwined with yours, his head buried between your torso and the bed, and every time— every single time he did this— you’d pull him close in your sleep. 

But you never went into his. You never lay with him on his dark sheets, you don't knock or open his door. You knock from your own room, only a wall between you, or call out from some corner of your small apartment and he goes wherever you call. Sirius tries to dissolve the knot that forms at his throat when he thinks of the fact that your lack of presence in his room probably meant you didn't feel the same, you didn't have his need to seek the other out, to be with him every minute of every day. 

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye as he walked out of his room, his wet hair now washed and combed back. The tips of his black hair are still dripping onto his shoulders, and he smells like the perfume you got him last Christmas, wood sage, and sea salt. He always asks you if you can smell the lemon basil note, you never know what he’s talking about. But you hope that it's what you smell when he passes behind you, his touch gentle as his hand touches briefly on the small on your back to grab the chocolate chips and then proceeds to pour the whole bag into your batter. You don’t complain.

You hate the glimpse you catch of his room when you glance towards his open door, the coldness of the room taunting you— everything still barren and packed. Like he might leave any minute like he couldn’t even bother to take his belongings out. 

“Help me to pour it into the mold?” your voice was soft and quiet, Sirius’s most mellow vinyl playing in the background. Sirius nodded and took the bowl from your hands, you couldn't help but watch him as he did so. 

Scary, carefree, ever so reckless Sirius Black, combed and bathed and warm, baking brownies and taking a picture of them through the window of the oven door. With his checkered pajama bottoms and the plain white cotton shirt that rode up to reveal slivers of his torso when he moved his arms. Soft and pliable as he puts the film camera down, turning towards you to pull you into his arms. He hummed as he swayed the both of you, you never argued. You didn’t complain about how the wetness of his hair dripped onto you, or how he stepped on your foot purposefully, to get a rise out of you, a small chuckle leaving his lips as you stepped on him in retaliation.

No, you didn't complain, not about the pack of cigarettes he had left on your kitchen island even though you hate it when he smokes, or the jacket that soaked the floor of your entrance and no doubt had another pack of cigarettes soaked and mushy. You ignored the thoughts of him leaving and the way your stomach stirred thinking about what it could mean that he kissed the top of your head as you danced. Or when he kissed your cheek, one hand cupping the other side of your face, before leaving your arms to check on the oven. You certainly did not think of his unpacked bags, the three missed calls you had from your father, or the fact that you were waiting to hear back from a job interview.

You see a flash out of the corner of your eye and turn to see Sirius. Another flash goes off, as an unapologetic smile creeps up his lips. He always likes catching you off guard when he takes pictures. Nothing else matters right now, life is easy like this.

You try to not think of anything at all, anything but him and the brownies, and the shitty soap opera you’d watch while curled up together on the couch.

[007reid]

hi aine! i love how you write spencer sooo much so i have a short request

i would looove sub/virgin spence where he’s been touch starved so he’s really sensitive and whiny but reader praises him and guides him through it

-🌹

hi rose 🌹 for one of my favorite asks ive ever gotten, i did a horrible job on this one so im so sorry ml 💔and sorry for the wait too...hope this is somewhat worth it😭enjoooyy!!

virgin. spencer reid

pairing: sub virgin!spencer reid x experienced fem!reader. 1k

summary: exactly what the req says

warnings: whining, loss of virginity, riding, creampie, nun too extravagant. yu like the picture?😏😏

"y/n...y/n!" spencer's crying, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes but he's moaning, humming his whines into your neck.

"easy, baby boy," you croon, slipping out of him and slowly lowering yourself on his cock again. spencer's pawing at you desperately, like he's never felt such a thing before.

it's because he hasn't. it’s exciting, being in a relationship with spencer; it’s exciting touching him and seeing him jump or freeze and then melt into your touch. he’s pristine, like a shiny trophy, untouched—touch starved and so unfamiliar to the idea of physical touch or intimacy.

"'s too much," he whimpers pathetically, voice halfway stuck in his throat. "can't, can't--"

"relax, spence," you murmur, pushing back the pieces of hair, damp with sweat from his face. spencer's eyes are squeezed shut, eyebrows furrowed like he's in pain or he's deep thought. you're not to sure which one. your hips continue snapping into his. "look at me baby." it takes a while, but spencer slowly peels his eyes open. they're glossy and his eyelashes are wet, and you're listening out for the word from him to stop but it never comes.

"y/n--" he gasps, right as your pussy clenches tightly around him. his eyes close again. spencer's breathing heavily, little hng, hng, hng's falling out his puffy lips. the sloppy sound of skin slapping against skin and spencer's whines and your quiet moans and the smell of sex clouds the room.

"you're okay," you reassure him, voice shaky trying to soothe spencer's nerves while trying to soothe your own. spencer's big and he practically splits you in half, the tip hitting the little button inside you that makes you want to scream without any maneuvering. he's not even trying, propped up against the bedpost as you ride him, hands pliant at your hips, the little slick of your wetness every time you lift yourself from him absolutely filthy. you lift his chin and he falls forward, planting a miss-aimed kiss at your jaw.

"you feel so good," he bambles. "so warm. i love you. feels so good but so much y/n, i--" he moans, cock pulsating inside you. his thumb flicks at your perky nipples.

"'m so full of you," you say, burying your face in his hair and wrapping your arms around him, trying to get as close as possible. "fuck. make me feel so good. my best boy,"

"best boy," spencer repeats eagerly with a soft little hitch of his voice. the tears resume. "y/n i can't it hurts, stomach hurts y/n please--"

you immediately know what he meant, and fasten your pace, hands on the base of his cock to make sure he won't slip out of you. spencer slides into you easily, your pussy stretched and wet for him and his fingers dig deep into both sides of your waist. spencer's moans cease and his hips starts bucking up to you, arms wrapping around your torso and he wouldn't stop talking. "gonna, think im gonna cum, yn please dont stop it feels so good, fuck!"

"cum in me," you coo, feeling that familiar buzz at the pit of your stomach too. "you got it. cum in me spence, so good for me, such a good boy,"

spencer's sobbing as he cums, warmness blooming at your core as he unloads his cum inside you. you follow suit, pressing at the sensitive nerves bundles at your clit, thighs shaking from the weight of your orgasm. spencer's shaking too, tears shiny on his rosy cheeks and you ride the both of you off your orgasms, the sweat on your skin cooling.

spencer's cum leaks outside the puffy walls of your pussy and down your ass when you pull off of him, pressing yourself at spencer's side and curling your body towards him. his chest is rising and his lips are parted. you watch your boy carefully, how his eyelids starts drooping as his breathing mellowed out. you should've saw it coming that spencer reid is the kind of man to get sleepy after sex.

but you've known him for long enough to know that spencer's mind never stops running, not when he's sleepy, not when he's asleep, not ever. "penny for your thoughts?"

he turn to you, smile debauched and eyes like marbles. he throws the sheets over the both of you and find your hand underneath the blanket, bringing it to his lips. "'m so grateful for you yn," he whispers like he's telling a secret. you strain your ear to listen. "so grateful. luckiest man alive. i love you. love you," spencer takes a long blink, and you know he's drifting off. you smile widely, so endeared. he weaves your fingers together. "i'll make it up to you. swear. after this. i swear."

spencer never speaks in choppy sentences, never speaks unless he's got the entire sentence planned out in his head and now he's babbling on like someone whose speech he would correct. amused, you reach out, smoothing down his hair with gentle fingers. "sleep, spencer," you say affectionately. he never needs to be told twice either, apparently, because his eyes flutter shut and he's out like a light, but fingers still tightly intertwined in yours underneath your blanket.

you'll just have to wash the sheets tomorrow.

[tinygrove]

Decent Man Pt.1

The second part

Pairing: Cregan Stark/fem!reader

Author's Note: I've decided to split this into 2 parts just to give myself a chance to work on the ending but I was eager to get something written. This is the first fanfiction I've wrote, or at least posted on this account so I hope it's not too bad.

Summary: You're newly wed to Lord Stark after having only been courted for barely a month. Although the anxieties of having to perform as a 'royal' wife start to eat at you, Cregan proves to be a decent husband.

You must have done it, how else would you be alone in his chambers. Blocking out all the noise and going through the motions would only get you so far. You couldn’t even remember the vows. Lord Stark had arranged for there to be no bedding ceremony, perhaps an act of mercy. You’ve heard some lords complain they simply want their lady wives all to themselves, untouched and unspoiled. You were neither. You weren’t sure if your Lord husband was either. 

You hadn’t learned much about him during your courting, not that it lasted long. Your father practically jumped at the opportunity for a stronger alliance to the most powerful house in the North. It must have appeased Lord Stark as well, seeing how quickly he’d agreed to the marriage, it had barely taken place a fortnight after you’d met. Now though, you were in his room, none to accompany you but your ladies in waiting. A few had come with you from your own keep, or rather your fathers. And one or two had been appointed to you since coming to Winterfell to stay. You could hardly form the words to tell them you could undress yourself. Maybe it was the cloak weighing you down, making it harder to breath the harsh winter air. You let it slip off your shoulders and yet you still feel heavy, a weight in your chest and a hard lump in your throat. 

Hearing the thick wooden door swing open and shut after heavy footfalls and quick scurrying of feet made the pit in your stomach sink even lower. “Are you well?” He asked, definitely due to your silent stewing. The whole night you’ve been lost in your own thoughts. 

“Yes, I am well, thank you.” You force a courteous smile to you face, although more brief and sour than you’d intended. You figure you’ll have to do a lot more of that in the coming years. “You do not look well.” Your not sure he says so in a demeaning way, more so that he’s seen through your flimsy facade. Or maybe he’s focused on the way your hands desperately seek purchase on your gown as your eyes start to brim with tears. You can’t control it when they start to spill. 

“There is no need for us to,” He gestures between you with a sigh, trying to supplement actions for words. “Consummate the marriage tonight, if you do not wish it.” He tries to search your eyes for any sort of answer but you avoid his gaze. “Did you hear-” 

“Let’s just get it over with.” You say, voice low and wavering with all it’s strength to keep it from cracking. Another stray tear falls down your cheek as you reach behind yourself for the laces of your gown but two large hands hold your arms still. 

“You truly think so little of me? That I would– Like I said, there is no need to consummate the marriage tonight.” He brings your arms out from behind your back, holding your chilled hands in his. His fingers and palms are calloused, yet his grip gentle. “I barely had a chance to court you before we wed, perhaps we might come to know each other before; that.” Your eyes flicker down to where his hands encompass yours, and he quickly recedes after catching on but strangely, you find yourself missing his warmth. 

As your eyes find his once more he continues. “I shall have a few ladies in your service prepare a chamber for you. I know you’ve not had space for your things but I assure you they’ve been taken care of. In the mean time though you’ll need to take your rest here.” He turns to make for the door and surprisingly a part of you longs for him to stay. The brief bit of kindness he’s shown to you is more than you can say for those that attended your wedding. Your father truly had not exaggerated the icy attitude of those in the North. Lord Stark however, to see his wintry exterior slowly melt away has made it almost impossible to detest him. “I will see you on the morrow, my lady.” He opens the door and a cold breeze comes over you, yet you don’t shiver, the cold only emboldens you. “Thank you, Lord Stark, for your kindness.” your voice is somewhat steady now, no longer fighting an imminent sob. He nods at your words, “Cregan will do just fine, my lady.” You’re alone now and the chill is gone. All the warmth radiating from the hearth is slowly becoming too much to bear even as it smolders to embers. The absence of your Lord husband leaves you feeling alone now, more than you’ve ever been.

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Hi! For the bingo: Daemon Targaryen & courting?

Mirror (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Warnings: Targaryen reader. Mature situations. Mature language. A bit of angst, incest, and innocence kink.

Summary: Courting. Daemon’s version.

A/N: Everyone who writes Daemon fics has tackled this trope. I missed oneshots so bad.

There was little King Viserys wouldn’t do for his lovely daughters. During your childhood, there were two of everything. Two Septas, two dolls, two play daggers. For as long as you have been alive, there have been efforts made to make things fair.

No doubt, it was the legacy of your mother. Your father was nice enough, but you doubted he had the foresight to try to avoid sibling rivalry. Queen Aemma’s influence had been greatly missed after her passing.

It had been then when the problems between you and Rhaenyra had started. Your relationship had gotten even more rocky when she was named heir. The situation had turned so bad, even your father had noticed. And just as if it were one of his models, he had demanded perfect symmetry in all aspects.

The same rooms. Same number of servants. Same number of dresses you were allowed to own. An even split of your mother’s jewels.

Unfortunately, there were things not even King Viserys could fix. This was one of them, you thought, as you sat on one of the rails of the dragon pit.

Daemon and Rhaenyra race on their dragons in the open sky right above you. They shriek in laughter and shout things in High Valyrian. You are not sure which you resent more. Rhaenyra, for dragging you along with the promise of tending to Syrax or Daemon for interrupting your time with your sister.

It seemed as if all you did was fight now. The occasion where you did not was rare, and so, intrusion on it was not welcome. But at the same time, you can’t help but wonder if Rhaenyra is playing a cruel trick on you, dragging you here so you can see what you are missing.

Despite your best attempts at keeping yourself calm, you can’t help but feel rage bubble up in your throat. Rage, and a deep sense of failure. You had heard even Laena Velaryon, younger than you, had managed to claim a dragon. Was this why your father had chosen Rhaenyra to be heir and not you?

It felt cruel, and hurtful. Not only did your uncle always pay more attention to Rhaenyra, but now you had to watch them do things you couldn’t do. Go where you couldn’t follow, and made you watch them go.

They dismount a few feet away from you. With them, comes all the hassle and fretting of the dragon keepers. Caraxes always takes a long time to settle after going flying, and so, you relax in your seat. You hope enough time might go by, they forget about your existence and you can slip out unnoticed. It would save you the embarrassment of having to hear them flirt and tell you everything as if you were a child.

No luck for you today, though. You smell it before you see it. Sweat, leather and the unmistakable stink of dragon. Your nose scrunches up, and you jump off the railing just in time to avoid your uncle’s ruffling of your hair.

Rhaenyra snickers a little. Despite the dragon ride, she looks as royal and regal as ever. It’s a feat you admire and despise greatly.

“Trying to sneak up on me?” You frown. You don’t need any further embarrassing. Being startled and falling into the mud would have been just the cherry on top.

Daemon ignores you, tugging on your braid.

“No dragon yet?”

“No.” Your answer it’s harsh, and perhaps a bit rude, but this feels as if they are targedly mocking you. Daemon raises his eyebrows, looking on the edge of apologizing, if such a thing it’s even possible for him. Rhaenyra, more used to your moods, just rolls her eyes.

“Let her be, Kepa.” She whispers, as if you are not there. “She is always like this.”

“Pouty?” Daemon tilts your chin up with two fingers. You jerk your head away, glaring daggers at him.

“Bitter.” Rhaenyra speaks, and you glare at her instead. You do not understand why she is so mean, lately. Her being named heir has not done anything good for your relationship, but you had tried your best to play nice. She didn’t seem to care.

“I can hear both of you.” You complain, but they just laugh. Angrily, you stomp off.

You feel too jittery to go back to your chambers. It would make you more angry, if you were to go inside the castle so soon. It’s too pleasant of a day to be spent cooped up at the Red Keep. Too preoccupied with your thoughts, you don’t notice someone is following you.

Your feet lead you to the training yard. It makes sense, in a way. This is where you have been coming the past few months when the castle got too small to house both you and Rhaenyra.

Early in the morning as it is, the yard is empty. Save for your sworn shield, of course. While Rhaenyra had gotten Ser Criston Cole, handsome and dornish, you had gotten Ser Harwin Strong. Riverlander, just as handsome and with a clear infatuation with your sister.

But kind. Unbearably so.

“I figured your meeting with the Princess would not go as planned.” He explains, as he helps you out of your cloak and jewelry. Ser Harwin helps you put on some protective gear before handing you a wooden sword.

He has been teaching you swordplay for the past few months. Not so much for self-defense, but as a way to curb your more violent impulses. When you feel like you might throttle Rhaenyra or perhaps smother her with a pillow, you come to him.

It's good. You have not learned a lot, but there is something utterly satisfying about hitting someone as hard as you can. With wooden swords and against Ser Harwin, you know there is no real possibility of hurting him. He is much taller and stronger than you.

There is also something satisfying about blocking his blows, too. In the smacking sound, in the effort it takes. You understand why men enjoy battle so much, finally. When you walk away, you are always sore and bruised, but your mind is finally quiet.

“I have just resigned myself to an arranged marriage.” You say to Ser Harwin, as you block his sword with great effort. “All the men in the court are panting after her, it’s no use.”

And you do think you are on the right, this time. Too often, you feel overshadowed by her, and seeing your uncle and Ser Harwin on the same day just confirms it. You have no chance at finding true love, not when every man here only has eyes for her.

You didn’t necessarily were a romantic person, but a bit of attention would be nice. Feeling desired and admired in the way Rhaenyra was. They even called her the Realm’s delight, for Gods’s sake.

“Are they after her? Or her tittle?” Ser Harwin tries to disarm you. You hit harder, a low blow aimed to his ribs that he avoids with little effort.

“You tell me.” You pant, a little out of breath. It was something you frequently wondered yourself, but never about him. Ser Harwin clearly wasn’t hoping to be King. What he wanted was something much more carnal. You had seen the way his eyes trailed Rhaenyra’s figure when they were together in a room. He appreciated her personality, perhaps, but he clearly wanted to bed her.

You loved teasing him about it. For such a big man, he could sure get sheepish.

“Fair.” Ser Harwin chuckled, raising his wooden sword again. You liked that he was very good-humored. He didn't mind your teasing. “But think of the bright side. If someone is after you, they are really after you.”

You frowned. He had a point, you supposed. If a man were about to pursue you, it might be because you are a Targaryen, or because of your valyrian looks. But never because of the Iron Throne. With baby Aegon existence, you are certain that whatever your place in the succession line is, plenty of people would have to die for you to even have a weak claim to it.

“Wise words for one so young.” The voice startles both of you. As if you were children caught with their hands in the cookie jar, you freeze. Ser Harwin even drops his wooden sword. “You should heed your knight, niece.”

“Uncle.” You answer, casually. You know Daemon. If he senses weakness, he is going to pounce. While Ser Harwin has given away already that you are not exactly doing something your father approves off, you are not going to have your Uncle thinking he has something to blackmail you with.

Daemon ignores you, choosing to attack the weak link. He tuts at Harwin.

“Poor form. And a poor trainer. Leave us.”

Harwin hesitates. He is not supposed to leave you alone and unprotected. Much less, with your uncle. Daemon it’s not known for his trustworthiness.

“With all due respect, Prince Daemon, I am not allowed…”

“Leave us, boy.” Daemon’s tone turns harsher. Channeling all the authority he has as a Prince. Now, your sworn shield can’t refuse. It’s an order, not a suggestion. But Harwin remains where he is, looking to you for approval.

Your uncle’s eyes flash dangerously at the defiance. You look at Harwin and nod. He leaves.

You twirl your wooden sword. Daemon smirks.

“Commendable.” He gives a slow clap. “Very loyal guard dog, you have there.”

“You could learn a thing or two.” You answer, vicious. The human equivalent of an animal biting down and refusing to release its jaws. By the brief look of hurt on his face, you have touched a nerve.

But soon, his expression smooths down into a vicious little smile, to match yours.

“So this is where you have been disappearing to.”

“So?” You ask, all nonchalance.

“Feisty.” Your uncle kicks Harwin’s discarded wooden sword away and unsheathes his. Whatever this is, it’s long overdone, you realize. You are bouncing with pent-up anger and frustration.

Daemon strikes at you, hard. The flat side of his sword hits your ribs. It hurts even with the protections Harwin makes you wear, a dull sting on your torso.

“If this was a real fight, you would be dead.” His tone is smug. You cannot take it, and so, bang your wooden sword against his hip.

“And you would be unable to walk.”

Your uncle laughs, coldly. He is angry too, you realize. In that messy way he gets, sometimes. Teeth bared in a cocky grin, still high on the thrill of riding Caraxes and chasing Rhaenyra.

Despite your best attempts, you are no match for him. He is a seasoned warrior. He has been at war for the last couple of years. No amount of anger can match his technique. Soon, he has you disarmed and cornered, Dark Sister at your throat.

“Not bad. I might even bruise.” His tone drips condescension, but there is something odd going on in his face. His pupils are blown, his chest is heaving, and there is no way it’s with exertion. While you were panting and begging for a respite, Daemon hadn’t even worked up a sweat. “You need a real sword.”

“Perhaps. But then Rhaenyra gets one, and this is only mine.” It’s more honest than you would like, but you are still trying to decipherate what exactly he is feeling. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes glassy. You feel confused.

“Is that why you want a husband? To have someone only yours?” Daemon suddenly is much closer, twirling the end of your braid between his fingers.

You scoff, and push him away.

“That’s none of your concern.”

You storm inside the Red Keep, scowling. Finally, it seemed, Daemon and Rhaenyra had managed to run you off the castle’s grounds.

The encounter is barely given a second thought. You decide to keep yourself busy for the rest of Daemon’s visit to King’s Landing. Knowing him, he is due to get exiled soon. There is no point in worrying about it.

You fill up your days with activities, be it harassing some tutors, your Septa, or even visiting orphaned children in King’s Landing. That activity is one you and Ser Harwin particularly enjoy. It fills you with joy when you get to run around and play in the mud with your stern guard having no choice but to tag along. You have even caught him smiling when little girls ask to braid his hair.

Things are surprisingly calm. You would have expected your uncle to be involved in a scandal by now. Yet, there are no rumors of him bedding three whores in one sitting, nor there is an irate Otto Hightower asking your father to send him away.

Until one night, you find a jeweled sword resting on your bed. It’s small, but you can tell from the sharpness of the blade that it is made from Valyrian steel. You start training with it the next day, getting used to its weight. If Ser Harwin thinks anything of your sudden interest in doing more than hitting him, he doesn’t show it.

You are not surprised to find your Uncle waiting for you after your morning practice. At first glance, the courtyard is as empty as when you began your training. Despite it, you can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching.

Just as you are entering the Red Keep, sweaty and ready for a bath, Daemon steps out from the shadows.

“You look so grown up in riding attire.” He says, from beneath some trees. “Almost didn’t recognize you.”

“Almost didn’t recognize you, either. No scandal in nearly a month?” You start to loosen your braid, accelerating the process of getting into your bath as you walk. There is nothing you want more than to just soak in hot water and let the warmth wash away your soreness. “You must be getting old.”

“Youthfulness is in the spirit.” Daemons hurries to reach you, falling into step right beside you. You resist the urge to walk faster if only to see him struggle. Power play. Always. Push, and pull, and don’t let anyone else get the upper hand.

“Ah, that makes sense.” You slow down your steps because while you enjoy angering your uncle, you would rather not anger him too much. “You have the spirit of a child.”

“I’ll take that as the highest of compliments.” Daemon ruffles your hair, uncaring that’s matted in sweat. You make a face. “Did you like your gift?”

“Depends.” You give him a feral little grin. Your uncle looks at you, as if deciding whether he wants to bite or not. Knowing him as you do, you know he can’t stand the intrigue.

“On what?”

“How many of Rhaenyra’s necklaces you had to melt to get the sword.”

“That blade is worth at least five of her necklaces.” Daemon boasts. You give him an unimpressed look.

“Huh. Then I like it.”

“Not love it?”

“It wasn’t ten.” And with a cheeky grin, you are off towards your chambers.

You don’t see Daemon for a few days. You hear him, unfortunately. He is everywhere at once, yet never wherever you are. You know of him in the shape of rumors and hearsay.

When you go fetch yourself a tea tray in the kitchen, your uncle is in the middle of the servants. “I heard last night he was with four whores!” As you ask a maid about your sister’s whereabouts, he is her chosen companion. “Princess Rhaenyra went out to race your uncle, Princess.” And of course, when your father complains, Daemon is in the midst of it. “He insulted Otto and then walked out of the council meeting.”

Despite your wishes, your uncle starts to occupy more of your mind’s space than you would like. You keep wondering what he is up to, each rumor more outrageous than the last. You cannot help but wonder if it’s you who was prompted him to wreak such havoc. The idea of having such power over him, that an offhanded comment can cause such a reaction, makes something tingle in your stomach.

You find him next in the gardens. Alicent and Rhaenyra are fighting again, a nasty thing that soon turns into a screaming match. That's a dynamic you have stayed out of, since you had memory. While Alicent and Rhaenyra were friends, you never felt anything towards Alicent besides a slight sympathy. She seemed nice enough, but she was not your friend.

Rhaenyra and you loved in the same way, you see. Possessive, harsh. As Princesses, you never learned to share. You wanted your person to be only yours. Alicent was Rhenyra’s, and so, you stepped aside.

When she married your father, you weren’t exactly pleased. But you had the emotional detachment Rhenyra lacked, being too close to the situation. In time, you had come to understand that it wasn’t like she had a choice, either.

So, it wasn’t like you were going to break with tradition now. To avoid their screams, you had decided to pace the gardens. Daemon seemed to have the same idea because you find him sitting on a bench with a book in his hands.

“Came to join me?” He asks, voice smooth like honey.

“Rather to escape the screeching.” You sit by his side, curiously peering at the book he holds.

“A Cautionary Tale For Young Girls.” Daemon’s smirk is the only thing that gives him away, that, and the fact that the book is written in High Valyrian. “Most illuminating read. You should try it.”

You laugh, despite yourself. His lips twitch into a more genuine smile, less full of smugness and bravado.

“I was getting lonely.” You say, softly. The admission surprises even you. “You are with Rhaenyra all the time.”

Don’t go where I can’t follow, you wish to say. Don’t take her from me. My other half. But you don’t speak the words aloud, from fear of him repeating your confession. You don’t want to beg Rhaenyra for affection, not when you have been competing with her all your life.

Daemon makes a face, as if pained of what he will say next. He seems wary of hurting you. You wonder if that means he cares for you, in his own twisted way. It’s not often he worries about what others think.

“She has a dragon.” No matter how gentle the tone, it hurts anyway.

“I miss her. Not you.” But it’s a lie. You know it’s a bad pattern, and you shouldn’t miss him, but you are so used to competing for affection that Daemon has become both your rival and the one you crave. The weeks without him have been lonely and taxing. No matter if it was you who pushed him away and didn’t care to reach out after.

“I remember you two were close.” Something must change in your face because your uncle reaches toward you, gently squeezing your arm.

“We used to be. She is just… So angry, all the time. And has all these new people. Admires, prospects…” You feel like a fool. There is a deep sense of unfulfillment and being wronged yet at the same time, you know you are being unreasonable. This was always going to happen. You can’t share the Iron Throne, and she has always been your father’s favorite. Rhaenyra was always going to be the heir.

“Which one am I?”

You shrug.

“It's not like I care.” But you do. You do care, despite your best sense. Because you want to be his favorite. You have always wanted to be someone’s favorite, but Daemon has a special brand of devotion for those he cares about. You wish you could be counted on that list, lately. By the smile on his face, Daemon can probably tell. “And it's not like before she didn't have things that were only hers.”

"I thought you shared everything.” Your uncle tucks a loose piece of your hair behind your ear. You lean into the touch, closing your eyes.

“She has Alicent. Had. Still does.” You know when the time comes, Alicent will be there for Rhaenyra. They are tied together by destiny in ways Rhaenyra and you are not.

“The curse of the younger brother.” With your eyes still closed, his hand gently brushing your hair back, the words do not feel as if they are being spoken aloud. The gardens around you feel muffled, distant. Perhaps it’s the soothing touch, or the deep pang of sadness in your chest, but you do not understand what Daemon means.

“I beg your pardon?” You open your eyes, giving him a confused expression. Not only is he muttering nonsense, your uncle is much closer to you than he was before. Daemon’s forehead is nearly pressed into yours, his thumb now gently rubbing across your jawline.

“Viserys and Rhaenyra are the same.” He explains, tracing your cheekbone next. As if he is keen to learn your face from touch alone, carve it on his mind. It makes you smile slightly. The pain from mourning your innocence is very much still there, but it doesn’t feel like it’s tearing you apart. “Just as you and I are the same.”

“I…” You are not sure of what to answer. Naturally, it makes sense. You can feel it in your bones, but you can’t quite articulate the thought.

Daemon’s thumb presses against your lips in a downward motion, closing them.

“We could fly off tonight. Go to the Free cities, marry. No one would care.” His tone is fervent, urgent. Pleading with you. You keep quiet, and so does he. The silence stretches between the two of you. Your mind races.

Just as your lips flutter behind his thumb to answer the proposal, your uncle speaks again.

“We are free, you and I. But the Iron Throne chains them.”

It’s then you realize it was not a proposition, but rather an explanation of the thoughts you were unable to articulate. And perhaps it’s the sting of rejection or the deep sadness that has taken root on you since the death of your mother, but you cannot keep the words in. They come flowing, tumbling, rushing out of your mouth.

“I want to be a girl forever.” You say to him, starting to tear up. “I am not ready to be a woman.”

You are scared, you realize. No longer are you a girl playing to be a woman, dressing up in your mother’s jewels and dresses. Five years down the line, you will be married. Ten, it will be you who is a mother.

Your uncle gathers you into his arms, painfully soft. You would have never believed Daemon capable of such a tender touch.

“You can’t be innocent forever.”

“Everything is so complicated now. I just… I don’t want anything to change.”

You whisper against his neck. It’s a doomed wish. You know already it’s too late for it. No longer are you an innocent, no longer anything is the same. It will never be.

“Not all changes are bad. There can be pleasure in losing one’s innocence.” Daemon kisses your temple. “And I intend to show it to you.”

That night, the two of you sneak out of the Red Keep.

“I wanted to give you something only yours.” Your uncle says, as he leads you down the Street of Silk. Both of you are wearing rough cloaks, for discretion. You cling to his arm, afraid of getting lost in between the strange sights and smells.

There is so much to see and so much to hear. People laughing in the streets, singing, drunkards and patrons from the brothels mixing. While you are familiar with the streets of King’s Landing, you have never seen them at night. It’s both frightening and exhilarating, watching the city come to life in ways new to you.

There are no children in sight, only adults. The message that Daemon hoped to convey by bringing you here is loud and clear. You are no longer a girl, you are a woman. And so, instead of sleeping soundly in your bed as you have done all your childhood, you get to enjoy the wonders of the night.

The crowd gets even more rowdy as you pass the bigger pleasure houses and walk towards the ones that are at the end of the street. Secluded as they are, they spark your curiosity.

“Where are we going?” You ask your uncle, tugging at his arm. “Inside one of those? Why?”

“They cater to tastes that the rest do not.” Daemon comes to a stop in front of one, and takes off his hood. The woman at the doors takes one look at his hair and quickly ushers you both inside a room.

The room is bare except for a couple of chairs and a bed. You examine everything closely, noting the inferior quality of the furniture. These are not the kinds of chairs you are used to, at the Red Keep. After a while, and only when you notice no one else is hiding inside, you lower your hood. Being overly cautious never hurt anyone, after all.

“What tastes?” You squeeze Daemon’s hand. He gives you a puzzled look. “You said they cater to tastes…”

“You will see.” You are saved from the wait to know what he means by the door opening. Two servants, dressed in little clothing, step inside. Men, near your age. They are completely unique, yet similar. You get the feeling they are not simple servants, even though they serve you and Daemon goblets of wine.

You stare. You do not understand why they are not leaving.

Your uncle steps behind you, to whisper in your ear. His arms circle around your waist.

“Look at them.” He presses a chaste kiss just behind your ear. “Really look.”

So you do. One of the men is tall and strong. Almost wide. All bulging muscles. He has dark hair and light colored eyes. The other man is slightly slender, yet strong either way. He has lighter hair and a much sweeter face. They are both handsome, yet you do not understand what game Daemon could be playing.

“You wanted something only yours.” He mutters, kissing the crown of your head. He perches his chin on top of it. “Most girls, they don’t get to choose whom they lose their innocence to.”

It dawns on you then. He wants you to choose one of the men to… Well. It’s a nice thing to do, but so undeniably Daemon it hurts.

Feeling mischievous, you turn around in his grip.

“And I can choose any of the men in this room?” You smirk. Your uncle’s brows draw together, in disbelief.

“That’s the point, yes.” Daemon speaks slowly, as if explaining to someone particularly daft. Or innocent. “I’ll pay for it, don’t worry.”

“Good.” You smirk, and kiss him. You feel him smirk right back against your mouth.

[thegaysinmyhead]

Dead on Main Yandere PT 1 'Obsession'

(First part will now be labeled a prologue)

Jason had no idea what to do with the guy he saved from that warehouse-made lab. 

The white haired man was currently sprayed across the ratty couch of Jason's safe house as their chest rose and fell. The green blood had stopped falling the night before, and they hadn't even made it to the location before the skin was scabbing over. Jason watched the man sleep through the night (not in a creepy way) in shocked awe as the skin healed quickly. It was like watching a time-lapse at max speed, the skin knitting itself together and forcing Jason to remove his quickly-done stitches merely a few hours after he put them in.

Jason wondered if this man was a meta, but he knew that was wrong. No meta had ever activated the Pit, no meta especially ever talked to it. Because that’s what happened–this sleeping beauty spoke without words to him and the Pit.

The crime lord rubbed a hand down his face with a sigh, domino still placed firmly over his eyes but the rest of his face now clear. The white tuft of his hair flowed out between his still-clawed fingers, and the tips caught painfully onto knots. He had been trying to will away the sharp edges since he stumbled through the door, but his fingertips stayed stubbornly pointed. Jason let out a sigh as he turned his eyes to the unconscious angel on his couch.

Whoever this man was…he was like him. There was a warmth where the Pit sat that was calling to the freckled skin and warm green eyes. The green was like a breath caught in his throat, a chill going down his spine and forcing him to shiver. A rumble echoed from his chest, a cry to the being nearby who felt just as him. Dead on dead, like and like.

The white-haired man stirred with a groan, and Jason immediately shot up to his side.

RAGE-CONCERN-WORRY

The angel blinked like he was trying to get spots out of his eyes.

“Ancients–I feel like I got shot and run over by Skulker…” The man huffed as he slowly pulled himself to sit up, a hand clenching his head as he darted his pupils around. Jason squinted his eyes against the faint green glow now emanating from the waking meta(?).

“Didn't get shot, but you were pretty fucked up when I found you,” 

The man jumped as Jason came into view, green eyes piercing into his own blue. There was a tingle underneath his skin that was more pleasant than it wasn't, and the vigilante breathed out a sigh. The Pit churned in his chest.

“You a meta? It'd explain the floating and the green light show you're putting off,”

The man was now indeed floating, and he looked down as if he didn't even realize he was doing it. He slowly deposited himself back on the couch while eyeing Jason wearily, the green around him slowly dampening. It felt like a loss somehow. Like suddenly being pulled from a comfy blanket into the freezing cold. Jason shivered slightly, missing the warmth.

“...I'm not a meta,” The man said sheepishly, arms crossing underneath his pits as he shifted away from Jason. Shit, if this guy isn't a meta, what is he? Why were the Pits screaming down to his bones for this (unreasonably attractive) guy?

Green eyes turned his back to Jason with a flash, the tell-tale sign of heat behind his eyelids signaling his eyes mimicked the green of his guest. 

curious-safe-content

What was that? Why did Jason keep feeling things he could tell weren't his feelings? It was like the ever-present green was digging itself into his brain and translating things he didn't even know was a language.

RAGE-CONFUSION-SAFE

The angel audibly gagged.

“Dude—I've met some pretty janked liminals, but your ectoplasm is straight rancid,” The man said while dramatically sticking out his tongue.

“Like, seriously, it's like I'm sitting next to a sewer with a crocodile trying to bite at my ankles. How are you dealing with that much corruption?”

Jason blinked underneath the lenses. Ectoplasm? Was this another word for Lazarus Waters?  He feels like he should be more aggressive to someone who could supposedly smell(?) the Pit, but there was a steady stream of relaxation that had the Pit rumbling with warmth rather than anger. The Pit had never felt like this, so comfortable.

“Ectoplasm?” He murmured finally.

The man balked at him, “Ya know, the stuff I've been bleeding all over you and your couch? Very obviously green and glowing?”

Jason just continued to stare down at the white hair and freckled cheeks. There was a very obvious shuffle to move away from the glaring red lens of his mask.

“You're talking about the Pit,” 

There was a shrug.

“If that's what you guys call it on this side of the living.”

The green shifted from his chest into his throat, words on the tip of his tongue that he choked down. The fuck does this guy mean ‘this side of the living’?

RAGE-CONFUSION-WORRY

safe-comfort-hello?

Jason jerked backward as a feeling waved past him. It was like something was passing by the deepest parts of himself, gently brushing past him in his entirety –insecurities, regrets, hopes, dreams–and fully embracing them before pulling away. He suddenly felt vulnerable and stripped down; he bit back the urge to tear up.

“Dude. You have got to see a doctor about that. That cannot feel good,” The man was in front of him now, white fingerless gloves cupping his shoulder. There was the barest hint of scarring on the pale blue fingertips, and Jason wanted to simultaneously melt into the embrace and rip the hand off of him. Jason went with the safer option of ripping the hand off of him.

“I don't know what the fuck you're talking about, and if you don't start talking I'm gonna put a bullet between your eyebrows,” He growled. He pulled one of his guns from its holster and pointed it at the angel (meta? Pit Demon?). The presence around him didn't even stutter or feel afraid. 

The man backed up, but seemed more amused than anything. His hands shot up in a placating motion but he was obviously not worried. There was something like a laugh tickling in the back of his mind. A laugh that just pissed him off more, but made the Pit purr.

“That's not gonna hurt me, big guy,”

Jason snarled with barred teeth, gums aching with pain and an unfamiliar warmth that made him want to bite down into something. He was fighting with himself through the warm comfort the Pit wanted to nuzzle into, and the apprehension/anger of an unknown in his safe house. Why did Jason bring him here? Probably because less than a day ago this guy had the skin of his chest held open by pins. Also because the Pit was begging to get closer to the white haired stranger. 

“Listen, man, I really appreciate you getting me out of there. Being a lab rat is not fun, at least let me fix that rank stuff in your system as a thank you?” 

Jason raised an eyebrow through his domino, pointing the gun more forcibly in the direction of the idiot talking to him. The man just held up his hands slightly higher with a shy smirk. 

“Alright! Alright! No need to be Mr. Big and Scary. Don’t really wanna Ghost Brawl when my body is still healing, please put the gun away,” 

Jason just huffed but clicked the safety back on the pistol, placing it on the table within his reach in case things went south.

“Why do the Pit waters react to you? Who the hell are you?” The crime lord questioned with a hiss. He lowered himself into an old recliner next to the sofa, placing his elbows on his knees as he leaned toward the stranger. The white haired man seemed surprised for a second before giving him a bright smile.

“Danny, Danny Phantom at your service! Or Daniel Fenton if you’re asking for my identity. Not like I have one right now anyways, considering I’m legally dead,” there was a snort as the guy floated above the couch, arms crossing as he flipped stomach down.

“–And what about you?”

.

.

.

TAG LIST [Might or might not be doing this in the future]

@justwannabecat

@fuckingfaraway

@kittenline

Prologue, Part 2

Masterpost

[Please let me know if anything is wrong or not working!]

[pangborns]

WOULD’VE, COULD’VE, SHOULD’VE…

God rest my soul, I miss who I used to be

tyler durden x fem!reader x the narrator (jack)

in which tyler entered your life just long enough to fuck it all up.

swearing, mentions of death, violence, panic attacks, manipulation, mean!tyler, kidnapping tbh, possible spoilers. (This may be the darkest thing I’ve written yet, so proceed with caution.)

Your shaky hand was quick to cover your mouth as the sobs poured out of you. You sat criss-crossed on the filthy mattress decorating the floor of the deteriorating home.

Admittedly, just two weeks ago you were a completely different person. You had a stable job, healthy friendships, and most importantly, no Tyler.

The night you met him, he had stopped you from calling the police on him and his friend for fighting in the parking lot outside of Lou’s Tavern. You remember his hand being so cold as it gently wrapped around your wrist. You remember the fear you felt in the pit of your stomach as you looked between the two bloodied men, the flush of your cheeks as they both gauged your actions, and the way you ultimately stopped your movement toward the pay phone. That was your first mistake.

“What’s your name?” Tyler questioned, he tilted his head a bit. You looked around him, watching as the man he was fighting spit out a wad of blood, he was still on the ground. Tyler stepped in front of your line of view. “Your name?”

“Oh- I’m, um, I’m (Y/N),” Your voice shook as you spoke to him. “I wasn’t looking to get involved with anything. I just don’t want anybody getting hurt…”

Tyler chuckled, pivoting on his foot to face his friend, “Y’hear that? She doesn’t want anybody to get hurt,” He was mocking you. The man behind him still didn’t say anything, he seemed lost in thought as he stared at you.

Wait a minute, you knew this man…“Jack?” You spoke incredulously, you did know this man! He worked a few cubicles down from you.

Tyler’s eyes widened, he whistled and fell back a few steps. “Jack’s got a friend,” Tyler continued his trek toward Jack, kneeling beside him. “Now, how do we know this woman, Jack?”

Jack seemed to try to stutter out an answer, his eyes were blown wide. His whole life could fall apart due to this very encounter, you could run off and tell everybody what you had stumbled upon. You could get him fired. His breathing calmed as he became lost in thought, you wouldn’t do that. You were only the woman who worked down the aisle from him, the one that asked him for paperclips as an excuse to interact, the one who emailed him the work he missed out on while he was sick, the one who so obviously had a work crush on him.

Your face was white at the realization, Tyler lowered his voice as he spoke into Jack’s ear, the two still watching you. Your work heels clicked as you started to back away, not failing to recognize how Tyler seemed to let you.

“C’mon man, she’s leaving you. She doesn’t care. She’ll probably run off and tell everybody about how much of a loser you are. What kind of guy stages fights in a run down parking lot-?” Tyler continued to egg Jack on, watching as his buddy’s face contorted.

“Wait!” Jack called out, stopping you in your tracks. “This is- he’s my friend, Tyler.” You released a small breath you were holding as he admitted that he really did know the man.

You nodded, muttering assurances to both yourself and Jack. Feigning a laugh, you started to turn around to leave for good.

“Don’t leave,” Jack pleaded, shakily standing up. “Let me- do you want to come over? To our place?”

You furrowed your brow. Our place. Was Tyler his roommate? “Why?” Your words came out shaky as you fiddled with your coat.

Jack grew quiet, he didn’t know why he extended the invitation. He poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue in thought.

“- we just moved in! Jack’s been eager to show it off to everybody we meet!” Tyler jumped in, patting Jack on the back extra hard as he stood up beside him.

You looked down at your dainty watch and read the time: 11:28. You stayed at work extra late today to pick up on Jack’s slack, so you weren’t too fond of any idea that didn’t include going home and sleeping.

“I don’t know, Jack. I’ve been working all day-“ Jack closed his eyes and hurriedly nodded, murmuring to himself. You opened your mouth to speak again, but Tyler was quick to cut you off.

“You heard her, Jack. She doesn’t care,” he smirked, throwing a wink your way. “She probably only puts up with you for her own personal work gain.”

The way he so openly spoke lies was incredulous. It didn’t even sound convincing! But from the look on Jack’s face, he so clearly believed those words. You furrowed your eyebrows, anger starting to settle in the pit of your stomach.

“That’s not true! Jack, don’t listen to him.” You demanded, stepping closer to the pair.

“Prove it.” Tyler stated curtly, tilting his head as he challenged you.

And that was how you ended up here, two weeks later, sitting in a decaying house surrounded by rats and roaches. The light pooling in from under the door was slightly blocked as a pair of shoes stood in front of the door. With a click and a creak, the door opened.

“Jack.” You addressed the man, watching as his hands shook while holding the tray of food. He refused to make eye contact with you, simply setting the tray by his feet and turning to leave. 

A sob escaped your chapped lips. “Jack, he’s a criminal. We need to get out of here.” You continued to plead. The man finally looked at you through his lashes. He gulped.

You could hear the countless men downstairs talking about their newest of plans to wreak havoc. Jack cringed.

“It doesn’t work like that, (Y/N).”

Another cry came from your mouth as you deflated a bit.

“Just give up. He isn’t going to let you leave until you join the cause.”

You sputtered, throwing your arms up in frustration. “Never! These are bad people, Jack.”

Jack pursed his lips, nodding a bit as he made his exit. The door shook as he stepped down the hall towards the stairs.

You screamed, pounding your fists against the floor. “Dammit, Tyler! Let me out!”

Your voice eventually grew hoarse and you had to give up. About fifteen minutes after your tantrum, you could hear the precise approaching footsteps of Tyler Durden.

The door cracked open and Tyler slipped in. “Heard you were giving Jack a hard time.” He tsked, not wasting a moment on a greeting.

You kept your mouth shut, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.

“Huh.” He nodded, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. A chuckle escaped from his amused smile. “I got all day, sweetheart.”

Your lip quivered as you fought back the tears. “I’m not joining your shit club.” You spit, eyebrows furrowing.

Tyler merely hummed. “C’mon hun, do it for Jack.” He teased. “Poor guy is in love with you or something! This is killing him, Princess.”

You reeled back at the nickname, cringing at his smirk. “I am going to get out of here one day. On my own accord. This shit hole will be crawling with cops in no time, Tyler. Mark my words.”

Tyler simply laughed at your threat. The thought seemed to amuse him, he lightly tapped your cheek before making his way for the door.

“Trust me, that won’t be happening.”

[salparadiselost]

A random idea that I'm not ever sure I'm going to pick up and finish. AU is that everyone lives in a movie genre and the universe if governed by the rules of that genre. Bruce, fed up with being a failed lover interest, starts to adopt kids from other genres.

-----

"I don't get it," Dick says, standing at the top small set of stairs and looking down them. There's like six of them, hardly enough to actually call it a staircase. Dick could probably jump the full way down without hurting himself. It's definitely not a flight, just six steps to get from the raised dias of the bank's entry to the street. But Bruce is still hesitating at the top, staring at them like they are a snake curled up in the grass. 

The man who had assigned himself Dick's father (He doesn't need a father. He doesn't have parents. His parents are dead. Killed. For eight years, their case has gone untouched as cold as their corpses. He needs to solve it. He needs to find the killer. He has to. He has to. He has to...) drags his eyes from the stairs to Dick.

"You live in a *rom com*," Dick practically spat the words. He had been growing to hate this saturated colour, plastic world. There were too many people. None of the streets were ever empty. Movements from the corners of his eyes that his brain screamed could be someone pulling a gun, someone reached for a knife, someone passing a drug off to another, was usually just a woman dressed in LuLulemon pulling her yappy dog along. It was maddening the way that his brain wasn't built for this. He saw people doing things and his mind screamed that it was clues! It was evidence! You need to investigate it! You need. You need. You need.

But he doesn't. Because he doesn't exist here. The Graysons don't exist here. No one has been killed in this city for over 100 years apparently. The worse crime in the paper had been when Miss Betty accidentally stole cupcakes because her and Joe's orders got mixed up. They were getting married now apparently.

Dick shook his head trying to dislodge the part of him that was screaming that he was missing a clue. He tried to focus on the present. Him. Bruce. Stairs.

"This is a romantic comedy," he repeated. "It's all about love, so what's the fucking worse thing that could happen on the stairs."

"*It seems I've fallen for you*," said Bruce suddenly, his voice so devoid of emotion it startles Dick. Dick's eyes snap up to meet the other man's eyes, but Bruce is still looking at the stairs.

"That's the part of the script," he continues, his voice blank. It's disconcerting. Dick has only heard him peppy or bubbly or other words that paint him as a happy-go-lucky dog. He's never heard... this. "I fall down the stairs and I... I break something. I lay there until she's suppose to rush in. She's supposed to be a nurse or a doctor or maybe just someone with first aid training. She's supposed to treat me until the ambulance comes and I'm supposed to say *'it seems I've fallen for you'*"

Bruce finally looks at Dick and he can't even describe what's in the man's eyes. It's... he would almost call it haunted. The same glint that he has when he stares in the mirror.

"I've broken my leg from falling down stairs 48 times. I've broken one of my ankles 53 times. My left arm 18 and my right 26. Three times it's been my collarbone. One time after two flights, it was my back. I was paralyzed from the neck down. I couldn’t move a damn finger, so I just laid there in pain until the clock hit midnight and everything reset. And that’s just the staircase falls. There’s also the open manholes, the broken railings, getting hit by a car, a couple of times where a bridge gave out from under me. Any of them will do as long as I end up hurt and on the ground."

Dick stared. Coldness washed through his veins, fixing him to the spot. For the first time since he got here, fear settled into the pit of his stomach. The only thing he could think to say was: "I thought that nothing went wrong here?"

Bruce gave a harsh laugh that seemed more fitting for Dick's genre. "Everything works out if you actually have someone who wants to love you. If your love interest isn't interested or she just doesn't bother to turn up... well, the universe keeps trying to correct itself even if that means you have to lay in a crumpled, bloody heap at the bottom of stairs for a few hours."

He... he didn't know what to say. Say that he was sorry? That Bruce didn't have anyone coming to love him?

He looked back at the stairs and saw them how Bruce saw them. He tried to figure out what to say, but Bruce just turned on his heel.

"Let's go find the wheelchair ramp."

[selfishdoll]

NOW PLAYING…. SUPERMASSIVE BLACK HOLE

You're the queen of the superficial, And how long before you tell the truth?

sum: being a physical therapist assistant wasn’t easy work at all, and it didn’t help that one of your patients was beginning to plague your thoughts, in more ways than one.

PURE COINCIDENCE . camboy & martial artist! kashimo hajime x physical therapist assistant! reader

cw: strangers to lovers (lowkey), kashimo & reader are 19-21, kashimo is ooc of course, modern au (no cursed techniques but he’s still strong asf), sex work, pet names, teasing, degradation & praise, shy!reader, curvy reader, kashimo is an ass man, lowkey corruption kink, slightly public sex, kashimo is reckless & dumb, dumbification, manhandling, rough sex, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, choking, cervix fucking, unprotected sex, etc.

i spent so much time on this & was winging it fr so it didn’t come out how i liked 😭😭. & it got much longer then i wanted it to be. also please excuse any typos or errors, it’s late 🙏🏾

You always thought boxing, wrestling, and martial arts were such violent sports. You didn’t see the appeal of beating someone black and blue— or forcing them into submission. You weren’t a pacifist by any means but fighting was just something you didn’t get it. Especially, when it came to making money off it.

Truthfully, however— you didn’t need to see the point. Your only concern was massaging your patients and assuring they didn’t overextend themselves.

Which happened often.

Today would be a good day for you, a starting point actually. After two years of grueling work, several months of training, and being placed in a hospital you hated; you were finally sought out by a private practice— a gym for martial artists. From what you’ve heard they were good; winning tournaments back to back and putting on quite a show for the audience.

A name that frequently showed up was Kashimo Hajime, the proclaimed God of Lightning. A title earned given how fast he was, no one able to keep up with the amount of punches that he landed on his opponent. You were sure that was impressive in its own right, but you simply couldn’t get past the name.

It made you giggle each time you heard it.

Your eyes trailed away from the building infront of you and over to your phone hooked up to the stand in your car. You pressed your lips together, “Looks like I’m here..” You mumbled to yourself, feeling anxiety gather at the pit of your stomach. A new job always did that to you, imagining just about everything going wrong. From possibly falling or messing up a chart.

First day jitters always killed your motivation.

But, you took a small breath; eyes closed briefly as you sinked into your seat for a moment. It would be fine, this would be fine. You’re gonna do great. Such affirmations swarmed in your mind, pushing you away from delving down a deep hole of anxiety and insecurity. Once you felt your heart relax just a bit you grabbed your phone and tote bag, turning the car off and soon exiting it. Shutting the door behind you, you assured the doors were locked before approaching the large metal doors of the building. Pulling them open, your eyes scanned the large area. It looked like a relatively regular gym; punching bags hanging from the ceiling in a few places, weights, and treadmills. The most interesting thing was the boxing ring in the middle of the room.

“Hello, miss? Can I help you?” You jumped a little as the voice interrupted your train of thought, turning to face a woman who was seated behind the front desk. You flashed a false confident smile, approaching her while shifting through your bag. “H—hi, I’m [Full Name]. I’m here to start as a PTA.” Your hand finally clasped around what you needed, lifting a packet of papers from the confinements of your bag and passing them over to her awaiting hand.

Her eyes scanned the pages rather quickly, “Oh, you’ll be working with Ms. Makoto.” She mused, flashing you a small smile as she passed the papers back. “She always comes late, so for now; I’d suggest walking around to get a feel for your surroundings. Maybe even talk to your future patients.” She shrugged to which you nodded, a small thank you, escaping you.

You wish she hadn’t suggested the thing at all, given how nerve-racking it felt to you. However, you now felt obligated to do it, especially with the way she was smiling at you so sweetly. Damn her.

Situating the strap of your bag onto your shoulder correctly, you headed over towards the actual gym area; eyes on the swivel to assure you didn’t end up in anyone’s way. Like you hoped, however, the martial artists were far too focused on their training, paying you no mind as their fists slammed against some punch bag or they pumped their legs on the treadmill.

The atmosphere itself was nice, really. You didn’t mind it, maybe you would get used to it.

Once you were finished walking around the people lifting weights, your eyes traveled over to the boxing ring in the middle, noticing two forms entering it and several people surrounding it. Interest quickly invaded your mind, moving towards the crowd to get a better look. You luckily found your way to the front, staring up at the two men that were currently stretching.

One was unimpressionable; hair shaved short with tanned skin. He was shirtless showcasing his simple build. He wasn’t small but wasn’t big either, sculpted but not bulky? It was clear he wasn’t a seasoned fighter. But, as your eyes turned over to his opponent; the difference was all too clear.

Standing at an impressive six feet, cloaked in a tight black shirt and baggy white pants, bandages wrapped around his forearms. You watched as he cupped his hands together behind his back, stretching his arms and fuck, were they big. Or rather the man was big in general, enough so you pitied his opponent.

You watched as he rose his arms above his head this time, eyes zoning in on the way his shirt followed— revealing his toned stomach and the pretty blue trail that traveled down. Oh, how you wanted to see where it lead to.

“[Name]?”

“Huh!?” You gasped out of your daze, head snapping over to a woman that stood beside you. She had short black hair that illuminated her pale features perfectly, sharp dark eyes already staring at you. Her gloss stained lips curled once she had your attention, “I’m Makoto. I’m sorry for being late.”

You gave a nervous smile, “I—I don’t mind. I was just uh.. getting to know my surroundings.” The physical therapist nodded at you with a smile, eyes turning over to the ring as a small sigh escaped her.

“I’ve told Kashimo to stop entertaining these rookies.”

“Entertaining?”

Makoto nodded with a soft hum, crossing her arms over her chest. “They always want to fight him for some reason, riling him up until he finally agrees to a spar. It’s ridiculous,” She mused, tapping a finger against her skin. “It’s clear whose going to win.”

You pressed your lips together, eyes turning back to the ring. To your surprise, Kashimo was standing upright while his opponent was in a fighting stance. Cocky.. Was what ran through your mind, eyes darting between the two men.

The man with a shaved head blew air from his mouth, springing towards Kashimo in a single step. Your eyes widened as you watched the cyan-haired man step out of the other’s way, bawling his fists. The sound of skin to skin contact was the only thing you could register, astonished by the pure speed of his fists, opponent trapped under the flurry of his hits. Makoto was right, he didn’t stand a chance; falling to the ring the moment the god of lightning was finished with him. The match couldn’t have been longer than five seconds.

“Kashimo, It was only supposed to be a spar— not a knockout!” Makoto called, softly complaining about unnecessary concussions. You watched as Kashimo’s bored expression fixed onto the physical therapist, a small snarl on his face. Makoto hissed at this, fussing at him not to glare at her.

He didn’t entertain her yelling long, eyes traveling away from her and fixing onto you. You didn’t hold his gaze long, or rather— you couldn’t, given its intensity. You simply turned to face Makoto waiting for her to get over her yelling so you could get started.

. . .

A few hours of work passed, the only major concern being Kashimo’s opponent and assuring he had no fractures or concussions from the match. Much to Makoto’s relief, he didn’t. Other than that you were observing and looking over charts, noticing the inconsistencies in Kashimo’s. Makoto then explained to you the man ignored injuries and she quite literally has to corner him to get him into her office. The mental image made you laugh softly.

Soon enough your shift was over, being informed you did well and to come at the same time tomorrow. It delighted you to hear such a thing. Exiting the building, you approached your car while searching for your keys in your bag, humming softly to yourself. Finally finding them, you pull them out; attention however, shifting over to the gym doors when they opened.

To your surprise Kashimo stepped out, holding a large duffel bag in his left hand while his right? Reached for the end of his shirt, lifting it up and using it to wipe his face. All under your gaze.

You felt ashamed staring at him in such a way, especially since he was technically your patient.

“You need somethin’, Miss [Name]?” His voice was muffled against the damp fabric, pulling his shirt down to reveal his sharp eyes starting at you. You jumped in surprise, nearly dropping your keys. “Oh, oh, no! No..” You breathed out, shakily pressing the button on them to unlock your car. To your horror the man gave you a small smirk;

“Safe travels then.”

“Mhm! You too!” The words escaped you meekly and far louder then you wished. Snatching the driver’s side door open, you entered the vehicle, barely even slamming the door closed before you turned the engine over. You quickly pulled out of that parking lot, attempting to forget the scene that just happened.

. . .

A soft sigh escaped you as you sat on your bed, leaning back to lay down, arms laying across your stomach. The sky was painted black, stars twinkling overhead with the moon rested aimlessly. It was getting late and you needed to get some sleep for tomorrow. You weren’t sure how work would be but you wanted to mentally prepare for the worst. However, you just.. didn’t want to sleep yet?

It was weird, really. You didn’t feel tired despite how nervous you were today. You almost felt proud of yourself.

“Still need to get some sleep though..” You mumbled to yourself, rolling over to your stomach. Pressing your face into your plush blankets for a moment, you mulled over how to force yourself to sleep. Milk, melatonin maybe? You don’t know if you had either. You spared two more minutes of thought before an idea entered your mind.

Masturbation. You were a genius.

You reached blindly for your phone while turning onto your back again, scooting up farther onto your bed as you opened the dreaded X app. Ignoring tweets from friends and celebrities you went straight to the search bar typing in something random. You just needed to get off once, it normally worked for you.

Using one hand to scroll, the other went down to your lower half, happy you previously discarded your pants as your fingers brushed across your thinly covered pussy. Warming yourself up, your fingers pressed against your covered clit, slowly rubbing it; feeling the gentle pleasure travel up your spine.

Fifteen minutes passed of this and your agitated scrolling, frustration building as nothing in particular caught your eye. Each video was either too short or too boring for something to use, or even some too much. This wasn’t supposed to be difficult anyhow. Just a quick session and then sleep. Yet, here you were; boredly scrolling.

You nearly settled for your imagination rather then a video until something caught your eye. Your thumb hovered over the video, eyes zoning in on it. It was simple, a male by himself, showcasing his lower half but nothing else. You saw the imprint of his dick through his sweats, strong hand gliding across it; teasing himself.

Pursing your lips, you clicked on the video, getting into a comfortable position. You watched as he delicately pulled the strings on his pants, watching the band loosen. His hips rose, hooking a thumb under the waistband to slowly tug down— not far, but far enough his length slowly came into view; popping out when his sweats rested on his thighs.

You sucked in a breath, watching his veined hand clasp around his pretty cock. He was pale, tip a soft red with precum spilling from the slit. He was also.. well, big; lengthy and thick— particularly around the base. You attempted to imagine it inside you, pussy pulsing at the thought of it splitting you open.

His thumb rolled on the crown of his length, collecting some precum before smoothing it down his shaft. To your surprise you heard a soft groan, feeling your stomach tighten from the sound. Most men on this annoying app were quiet in their videos, something you couldn’t stand. And while he wasn’t loud, it was loud enough your hand went straight under your panties, beginning to roll tight circles on your clit.

You moved in sync to how he fisted himself, his soft sighs and grunts escaping your phone’s speaker; envious you couldn’t hear such things right into your ear. You bit your lip as your legs shook, two fingers traveling down your slick slit to plunge inside you. Your hips rose, grinding your clit into your palm as your eyes focused on the man. You gasped out, watching as his pace quickened, hips rising to meet the thrusts of his hands.

His voice became ragged, pants desperate as he chased his release. And you, your own. You were so close, watching this stranger fuck himself. A pretty sight you couldn’t look away from.

“Oh, fuck..” Was what he hissed, nearly making your eyes roll back. You were there, right there, so close, until— you noticed something. Your eyes had unfortunately wandered from his cock to his stomach peeking out under his shirt, spotting something.

A soft tuft of cyan colored hair.

Your eyes widened for a moment, feeling your pleasure come crashing down as flashes of Kashimo in the ring and outside the building entered your mound. The way it lined below his navel so perfectly, it was all too familiar. “There’s no way..” You thought to yourself, attempting to rationalize it in your head. Kashimo Hajime, martial artist known as the god of lightning just didn’t seem like the type to do such a thing.

But then again, you knew nothing about him, so who were you to declare it wasn’t like him?

Such thoughts killed your lust filled high, pulling your hand out of your panties and quickly clicking out of the app. You turned on your side, phone rested face down on your blankets. Your eyes pinched close, attempting to calm your racing thoughts and think of solutions to this.

It was all pure coincidence. Nothing more, nothing less. Maybe dying happy trails that particular color was some trend you didn’t hear about?

You seriously hoped it was.

. . .

Despite your many thoughts last night, you fell asleep shortly after that event. Though you did wake up and feel miserable, just imagining how nervous you’ll be facing Kashimo.

It’s probably not him.. right? You continued to try and convince yourself, closing your car door shut and beginning your trek over to the gym. Opening the doors and entering, you gave a brief smile to the receptionist that greeted you and made a beeline to Makoto’s office, reaching for the door.

Only for it to open, right in your face.

“[Name]! I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were there!” The physical therapist hissed softly, watching as you soothed the pain on your forehead. You only gave a small smile, shaking your head. “It’s okay. I wasn’t paying attention anyway.” The brief pain knocked Kashimo right from your thoughts, something you deeply appreciated and nearly thanked the reckless older woman for.

Makoto looked you over for a moment before sighing softly, nodding. “Alright, well. Set your things down. It’s not a lot to do today, but that could change.”

You gave a brief smile and nodded, entering her office. It was simple, resembling a hospital room with shelves lining the walls and a long black bed off against the wall. You placed your bag beside her own, turning around to spot Makoto at the door, talking to someone.

Moving closer you quickly realized it was Kashimo. His expression just like yesterday, bored with a snarl pointed towards the older woman— who was currently nagging, just like yesterday. You swallowed a breath, flashes of the previous night entering your mind, far too quick and vivid to ignore. It didn’t help that in the midst of her words his eyes traveled to you, causing you to still; wishing to fall through the floor right then and there.

The corner of his mouth twitched, “Don’t you have someone to mentor instead of wasting your time, naggin’?” Hajime questioned, finally releasing you from his gaze to stare back at Makoto. The physical therapist’s voice rose in pitch, Hajime turning on his heel and walking off much to her annoyance..

And your relief. You hoped he was too busy training to acknowledge you today.

Two hours passed with you following Makoto around, writing down a few notes on people’s charts and even tapping some people. They were nice and encouraged you even when your hands shook a little or you stumbled over your words. You really did like this job so far.

It was the afternoon now, Makoto letting you go on a thirty minute break. You entered the lounge room of the gym, hand clasped around the black container of food you had grabbed from your bag. Approaching the microwave, you opened it open and slid the container inside— shutting the door and pressing a random time. You leaned against the counter, scrolling through your phone for a moment before an idea creeped into your mind.

Assuring no one else was in the room, you clicked onto the app you used last night, going to your previous search and beginning to scroll. It took about five minutes before you finally reached where you wanted; the video you watched last night. Taking your food from the microwave, you clicked onto the account of the video, waltzing over to a chair and sitting down.

You attempted to rationalize looking at porn — or rather a porn account at work. It’s not like you were actively watching the videos, or touching yourself; you were simply searching for something, anything that signified this wasn’t Kashimo’s account.

But, you weren’t given much. Firstly, the account’s icon and header was blank while the bio was empty too. Despite this, it had quite a few tweets and followers, highlighting this account was quite popular. You bit the inside of your cheek once again, looking around you for a moment before clicking on the media section of the page. You scrolled, leaning your cheek into your palm. Most of it was solo stuff, showcasing his lower half and never his face. Your heart thumped however; when you noticed the spiky, cyan colored hair that rested behind him in a certain video. You bit the inside of your cheek, jumping when the lounge room door opened.

To your horror, Kashimo entered— giving you a brief glance before walking over to the fridge in the room. His hand reached for something, snatching it from the fridge and rising to shut the door, moving over to the microwave. While opening the door and placing his food inside, you watched his other hand fish his phone from his sweats.

And that’s when a idea popped into your head. A very, very stupid one. Your face turned back to your phone screen, biting your lip. You were still trying to convince yourself this wasn’t him, this was just some random man you’ve never met before.

And so, if you were to like a tweet of his where— your name was completely visible, you were sure he wouldn’t react at all. Your plan seemed solid, ignoring the nagging feeling in the back of your mind.

Taking a shaky breath, your thumb pressed against the hollow heart of a random tweet, slowly placing your phone back onto the table. Maybe.. maybe you were imagining it but, you could have sworn you heard the soft buzz of a phone.

One that wasn’t yours.

Fear shot up your spine, head moving slowly to the side, eyes traveling to the only other person in the room.

Who was already staring at you, cradling his black cased phone.

Your eyes locked, watching as a grin pulled his features. It was him, oh it was definitely him. Your eyes widened as the realization set in, quickly turning forward to snatch your phone and food from the table, getting up on shaky legs and heading towards the door.

“Not hungry, [Name]?” His tone was mocking, far too teasing for you to ignore. You didn’t even spare him a glance as you quickly shook your head, snatching the door open and exiting the lounge.

The realization of the situation finally dawned on you as you sped over to Makoto’s office, nearly crushing your container of food in your hand.

You had found Kashimo Hajime’s twitter, his.. special twitter. And he knew, you knew it was him.

. . .

About three weeks had passed since that fateful day. You were, surprisingly— okay. The day after it happened Kashimo seemed normal, not ignoring you but focused on his training. You remained on edge for the rest of the week expecting something. Maybe a big blow out or a private conversation, but you got neither.

And if you weren’t sure if you were happy, or upset by that. Either way, three weeks went by with radio silence and you growing accustomed to your job.

It was about forty minutes until you would clock out, seated at Makoto’s desk and flipping through papers. Your eyes scanned the page, assuring each chart was up to date and nothing was out of order. Luckily no one has gotten injured majorly these last few weeks, but the necessary procedures had to be done.

You heard movement beside you, eyes drifting away from the stack for a moment to spot your boss grabbing her things and placing them into her bag. Noticing your stare, she turned with an apologetic smile— “Sorry, [Name]! My daughter needs to get picked up. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nodded at her with a smile, glancing at the clock. You would have been nervous to be left alone, but it was only thirty minutes. And once you clocked out anyone that stayed back for training were on their own.

The door closed behind Makoto as she exited the office, your head turning to focus back on the papers. You hummed softly to yourself, pressing your cheek into your palm as you scribbled something on a page, flipping to the next.

Several minutes passed with this continuous routine, eyes finally shifting away from the work over to your phone. Five minutes until your shift was over. With that, you stood, collecting the papers into a neat stack before placing it back into its manila folder; placing that into your tote bag. You glanced around the area, assuring you weren’t leaving anything behind before grabbing your bag, pulling it onto your shoulder. Turning on your heel, you approached the door and opened it; letting out a soft startled noise.

“Oh, I was expecting Makoto..” Kashimo spoke, leaning against the doorframe. He was dressed in his usual attire; a black tight shirt with white sweatpants. His dark eyes traced over your form, tilting his head at you. You attempted to ignore the way his lips twitched a bit, as if holding something back.

You quickly cleared your throat, “Did you.. uh— need her for something? She left early is all.”

Kashimo hummed softly, “No..I think you’ll do.”

“What?”

“Think you could get the kink out my arm? I must have.. punched the bag wrong.” Kashimo claimed, smiling down at you. You withtook a breath, clenching the strap of your bag tightly. He was lying, and he knew he was lying too. Kashimo Hajime, punching the bag wrong? You could almost laugh at the thought.

And that smile? Oh— it was far from genuine, far from pure. Every alarm in your head rung, warning you to refuse and leave. Yet, you didn’t listen to a single one. Your body instead turned, waltzing over to the desk and setting your things down. “You can sit on the bed. I’ll take a look at your arm.”

The words barely escaped you before the deafening sound of the door closed behind him, a soft thanks, escaping him as he sat down. You felt his eyes on your every move, watching as you approached the sink and began to wash your hands— shakily, you might add. You spent extra time there, afraid to face the man.

Soon enough, however, you grabbed a paper towel from beside you; drying your hands and turning the faucet off. Tossing the soiled towel in the trash, you turned and walked over to him. “Wh—which arm?” You questioned softly, watching as he lifted his right one. You nibbled on your cheek, gently grabbing his bicep, thumbs pressing against the muscle carefully.

“If it starts to hurt, tell me..” You murmured softly, room back to being silent. This was stupid really; you making such a show of things. You knew he wasn’t hurt, shown in the way he reacted little with each squeeze you gave him; even pressing harder to see if he would react.

Like you suspected, Kashimo didn’t react at all.

“I wonder..” You blinked as his words interrupted your jumbled thoughts, blinking over to him. He was already staring at you, a small smirk pulling his lips. One that caused your stomach to drop. One that he wore in the lounge room that day. “—when you connected the dots, when you found out it was me.. did still watch me?”

You breathed softly, releasing his arm. “I’m… I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you mean.” You played at acting dumb, a useless facade he didn’t fall for at all. Instead, Kashimo chuckled softly, turning to glance away from you.

“Oh, don’t play dumb sweetheart. You know I’m asking if you fucked yourself to my videos.” His tone was harsh, eyes turning back to you; gaze intense. You swallowed heavily, watching him slowly lift himself off the bed. You stepped back, murmuring as he met your step, backing you against the cabinets. “Bet you wished it was my cock instead of your fingers; splitting you open, fucking you until your nothing but a crying mess.”

“Kashimo..” You spoke softly, rising your hands and placing them at his waist. You needed space, air— you felt like you would suffocate with his large form covering; with his smell swarming your senses. You gasped softly as his lips moved to your ear, cool breath tickling your skin. “Please..”

“Haven’t even touched you and you’re already beggin’ for me.” His words were mocking, a breathy chuckle escaping him shortly after. “Go on.. tell me what you want, [Name].”

You could nearly moan at the way your name fell from his lips, eyes pinched closed as your hands crumbled his shirt in a tight grip. You struggled for a moment to form words, eyes pinned to the floor to avoid his gaze. Unfortunately for you, this was one of the few times Kashimo was ever patient; hands seated perfectly on the porcelain cabinets, refusing to touch you until you answer his question.

Finally, after what seemed like moments you glanced up at him, rising to lock your lips with his own. You, please. Was what you whimpered into his mouth, feeling him react immediately. A hand rose to wrap around your neck, the other coming to the underside of your thigh. Kashimo’s clenched around your throat a little, driving his tongue into your mouth and marking it as his own. You whined softly at this, gripping his shirt so much the fear of ripping it entered your mind briefly. The heavy makeout continued only his hand dropped from your neck, grasping your either thigh and lifting you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, feeling him walk backwards until he sat on the bed.

Your pussy rested just above his crotch, feeling his hardening length through the fabric of your stockings and his sweats. Your arms wrapped around his neck, murmuring against his lips as you slowly ground against him. To your dismay; the man rose his hand, slamming his palm against your ass— the sting causing you to jump, pulling back as a whine escaped your throat. “Kashimo—!” You hissed softly, glaring at the man who grinned back at you.

His fingers soothed the path, rubbing slowly circles into your covered skin, gripping every once in a while. “I suggest you fix your face or you won’t be coming at all tonight.” Kashimo breathed, slapping the same cheek once again. You lurched forward, gripping him so harshly as a soft cry escaped you. “Gonna take my time with you.. explore every inch of you under these clothes,” He hummed softly, hand reaching under your black dress, running his fingers across your thinly covered ass.

“— and i’m not gonna rush just cause your slutty pussy is desperate for my attention.”

“Kashimo…” You whined softly, pleading with your eyes. The man only smiled at you, a sinister smile; highlighting how much he enjoyed toying with you.

“It’s Hajime, princess.” The martial artist corrected, leaning to place wet kisses against your cheeks and neck. You moaned softly, feeling his fingers curl under your dress, slowly pulling it up your body. You moved uncomfortably as the cool air hit your bare skin, feeling him reach behind you; fiddling with your bra for a moment. Once he had unclipped the undergarment he tossed it aside with your dress, pulling back to glance at your exposed chest. You grew nervous under his gaze, having half a mind to cover yourself. Only, he didn’t give you enough time to do so before his large hands grabbed the soft mounds, leaning down to suck a kiss on your collarbone.

His thumbs pressed against your slowly hardening nipple, nicking your skin with his canines. You breathed softly at this, hands rising to curl your fingers into his hair, gasping as you felt his kisses lower; soft lips grazing your areola before he opened his mouth— wrapping his lips around your nipple. The unfamiliar feeling caused you to gasp, eyes pinched closed as you felt him began to suck; gently grazing his teeth across your heated skin while his tongue slid across your pretty bud. Hajime’s other hand was busy playing with your unattended breast, groping and rolling your nipple between his fingers.

Your moans grew, rising your chest into his face more; chasing after the pleasure he was giving, searching for more. All he was doing was sucking your breasts and yet, your pussy was clenching around nothing— feeling as if you were an inch away from release. You gasped out as he gently clamped down on your nipple, rolling the tender bud to hear you squeal. The ministrations continued as a hand traveled down your body, tracing the stretch marks that lined your skin— rubbing across your rolls before his fingers collected your stockings; pulling them down your body with such force they began to rip.

“Ha—hajime, they’re ripping.” You whimpered softly, words ignored as he snatched the rest of the ruined fabric from your body, tossing it to the forming pile. Your breath hitched as his hand traveled between your legs, two fingers gliding across your covered slit, feeling the wet spot forming on your panties. A soft swear escaped you as he pushed down, pressing against your clit, slowing rolling circles against it.

The added pleasure caused you to lean your head back, eyes pinched close as the feeling consumed your body. This was wrong, more than wrong actually. He was a patient and this was your boss’s office, the bed used by several others when being checked on. Yet here the two of you were, dirtying it with your own selfish desires. You should be embarrassed, maybe even ashamed.

Maybe you would feel so after he was done with you.

A soft pop escaped him as he rose away from your chest, the pretty mounds now tainted with his saliva. His eyes carried down your form, enjoying the sight; your hips moving at an attempt to find more friction in his hand, biting your bottom lip to cover the soft, pretty breaths threatening to escape your throat. Hajime hated himself for waiting to touch you like this.. to make you his. His eyelids lowered as he leaned close, pressing hot kisses against your skin again. “Using my hand to get off, huh? How pathetic..”

In any other situation you would have been offended by his choice of words, but now? It only caused you to moan softly, hips moving fast against his hand— feeling Hajime’s lips move over to your throat. You gripped him as you felt yourself grow more and more aroused, a band forming that was ready to break. Your moans grew louder as you got closer, digging your fingers into his shoulders before your eyes widened; feeling him move his hand away from between your legs.

The band slowly faded, high slipping through your fingers. You nearly sobbed— his name exiting you in a soft whine as the man did nothing but grin down at you. Hajime’s hands traveled up your form, soon tenderly wrapping his fingers around your neck, leaning close.

“Quit whinin’..” He cooed, stamping a kiss against your skin. You gasped as you felt his hood tighten a bit, hand drifting right back between your legs, breaching your panties. Without much warning he curled two fingers inside you, feeling your wet walls clench his thick digits. You swore softly, feeling his fingers reach much deeper then your own could; stretching you out and working you open.

Your pussy began to squelch with each thrust of the digits inside you, thumb rising to push against your engorged clit; hand continuing to hold you steady by the throat. Hajime enjoyed the way your pretty broken moans escaped your throat, voice vibrating against his palm. He curled his fingers once more, watching the way you jumped, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “Can’t believe I’m fucking you dumb just from my fingers..” The words came out in an astonished coo, cock twitching under the confinements of his sweats and pants. Oh he couldn’t wait.. wait to see the way you fell apart as he split you open with his length.

But he needed to be patient. Needed to warm you up properly before completely ruining you.

So the pace of his fingers quickened, sounds of your messy pussy surrounding the room; acting as background noise for the high-pitched moans that escaped you. Your hips met each thrust, gripping his wrist to ground yourself. Your thighs squeezed his forearm, head knocking back as you came all over his hand. The man’s fingers soon slowed to a complete stop, withdrawing them from your wetness.

You barely registered him sticking his fingers into his mouth, sucking your mess off them. Once they were clean he leaned forward, kissing you softly— allowing you to taste yourself. So dirty..

Your lips moved slow, his thumb tracing your throat as a soft praise pushed from his lips. Soon enough you felt his hips rise, pressing his clothed cock against your wetness, grinding slowly. Even if you were still sensitive from just a few moments ago, you wanted, no, needed him desperately. So much so it nearly physically hurt.

Hajime rose, switching your positions to slowly lay you out on the bed, pushing you up higher. You whined as he body left you for a second, the sound quickly dying down when you noticed him unclothing. First was his shirt, revealing his sculpted torso and that damned happy trail. The man smirked at you as he tossed his shirt to the side, reaching for his bottoms next. Pushing them down, you watched as his length was revealed. To have it right infront of you rather then on a screen, well.. your phone didn’t do him justice at all.

“‘S not gonna fit.” You mused softly, eyes snapping back to his face, nervous. Hajime almost felt prideful from your words if it wasn’t for your tone of voice. He leaned close, pressing a kiss to your chin. “I’ll make it fit.” He mumbled, pushing close against you, grabbing his cock with one hand while the other grasped your thigh. Rubbing the tip across your slit, he smoothed your juices down his shaft, biting the inside of his cheek. Slowly, he pushed inside you, watching the way your eyebrows twitched, how your legs began to close.

A pained sigh escaped you, Hajime smoothing his hand up and down your heated skin. “Taking me so well, baby.. Just relax.” He spoke softly, hissing when he felt your walls clench from the praise. Soon enough his hips stilled the moment he pushed all the way inside, grasping the underside of your thighs— eyes closed. It took everything not to fuck you into the bed right then and there, feeling the way you carefully moved to adjust yourself; but each clench caused his resolve to wither away more and more.

Moments passed before Hajime opened his eyes, glancing down at you and searching for any sign of pain. When he realized there was none, he experimentally pulled his hips back so only his tip was inside, pushing back in— watching in delight at the way your mouth fell open in a ring O.

Nothing else held the martial artist, soft ruts quickly changing into slams. His cock bullied it’s way inside you, filling you completely. Your legs shook in his hold, gripping the fabric underneath you as broken moans escaped you. Hajime was knocking the wind out of you; pushing your legs up higher so that your knees were touching your chest. The stretch was uncomfortable for a moment, something you would surely feel in the morning— but you didn’t care. The pleasure this man was giving you overshadowed it all.

Your walls clenched him with each drag of his hips, his dark eyes captivated by the way you hugged him so tightly. “Wanted me so fucking bad, didn’t you, princess?“ Hajime hissed, grinning as he watched your eyes attempt to focus on him. The man chuckled softly to himself, leaning over you, trapping you under his body. “Oh, you don’t have to answer sweetheart— I already know the truth.”

The man was drilling into you at this point, tip kissing your g-spot as shameless cries escaped you. Tears treaded down your warm cheeks, grasping his arms for stability. Your breaths were hurried, stomach clenching as you felt yourself get closer and closer. “H—haji.. Fuck, I’m so close!”

He relished under the nickname, slamming you into the bed as he planted hot kisses against your skin. “Go on, then. Make a mess on my cock, sweet girl.” With his permission you came, gushing around him; arousal dripping down his length to the floor. You trembled from the feeling, gasping once you realized he hadn’t stopped moving. So sensitive you were, crying out to him as you reached to grip his arm.

“I—I cant, Haji—!”

“You can..“ The man corrected, angling his hips to push deeper inside you. “Waited so long to fuck you like this, to watch you go dumb on my cock— ‘M not stopping until I repay you for those three weeks.”

And he wasn’t lying either. It was almost felt like hours passed with him putting you into different positions, driving you deeper and deeper into the bed to the point it began to creak. By now you could barely speak, could barely form a sound other then a jumbled babble of his name and a soft gasp.

In the midst of it all you were suddenly pushed against the wall, thighs wrapped around his form as he shoved himself into you; a spark of pain washing over you each time he brushed your cervix— pain that melted away rather quickly.

From the way his hips stuttered you knew he was close, his face pushed into your neck as he gripped your skin harshly. Skin on skin contact filled the room, desperate sounds of pleasure following until Hajime swore; spilling into you. The warmth alone pushed you over the edge, cumming for the upteenth time that night— walls milking his cock.

The man’s hips finally came to a halt, breathing heavily as he simply held you there up against the wall. After a few moments he walked backwards, sitting on the bed; the two of you groaning in sensitivity. He pulled your hot body against his own, cradling your lower back with his fingers tracing the dimples there.

The room was silent as the two of you caught your breath, simply enjoying holding the other.

Soon enough the man pulled back, continuing to smooth his hands across your skin. “You’ll probably have to call in sick tomorrow.” Hajime murmured, grinning at the soft chuckle that escaped you.

“Yeah.. you’re probably right.”

[justfangirlstuffs]

Heart of Glass

A friend of mine finally talked me into reading LDR and this was the result. Takes place after chapter 13. LDR belongs to @spadillelicious

At your wit's end, you decide to try and have a normal time with Sun before opening hours.

cw: suggestive

You x Sun

wordcount: 2040

You came into work feeling a little more rested than you have been in the past few days. You chanced taking a quick glance around for Moon but the janitor was doing a good job of making himself discreet, and you couldn't exactly blame him given recent events. A knot formed in the pit of your stomach and you rubbed at your temples. 

You missed the days when your greatest concern at work was customer service, or not making a total fool of yourself while skating, or… confessing to your crush. It was beyond agonizing how your world had gone from bright and sure to being filled with shadows of uncertainty at every corner overnight. And each day the shadows seemed to grow bigger and more numerous. It almost made you wish you could go back to the days of blissful ignorance before you knew the horrible, horrible truth.

“Good morning, sunshine!” Sun chirped from behind you, causing you to jump nearly a foot in the air. He placed both hands on your shoulders to steady you before you could fall over. “Careful there. You don't even have your skates on and already you're unbalanced.” He gave a soft, playful chuckle in your ear that made your heart squeeze in your chest and your breath catch in your lungs. 

“M-Morning, Sun,” you forced out, trying to simulate even a sliver of the cheer he was radiating..

“You're here early  again  I see, perfect. That means we can get more practice in. I'll make an expert skater out of you yet,” Sun declared, giving a spin and winking at you. 

You gave a soft snort in answer, doubting his claims. Your clumsiness on wheels aside… A dark thought pervaded your mind… would you even live long enough for that to happen? You stared up at Sun, seeing the eagerness in his body language, the way he was practically bouncing in his roller skates, the way his eyes were lit up with excitement and anticipation. He was eager to get you on the roller rink. His dance floor. 

You considered him, and you considered one of your more recent conversations. His confession about the mixtape, how it meant everything to him, how he’d kissed it and handled it like the most precious of treasures. A part of you desperately wanted to believe his words, that he would never hurt you, that he wanted to keep you safe and protect you. But your mind was still swirling in a fog of doubt and fear. 

After what you saw him do you didn't know what to believe anymore. You didn't want to think that all those months of you and him had been a lie. But if they had been… would he really be trying so hard? And then another thought occurred to you, a crazy and possibly insane thought. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to keep Sun endeared to you. If his feelings were really as true as he claimed, then perhaps keeping him on your side might be the smart thing to do. You felt like such a scuzz for even thinking that but it wasn't just about self-preservation on your part. You really did miss your friend. Your Sun. 

“Not this time,” you said, straightening your back and puffing out your chest a little bit. “This time we're going on to MY dance floor.” 

Sun stared down at you, his eyes widening in surprise as he blinked at you. Clearly, you had caught him off guard. “Oh?” The sound was drawn out, laced with intrigue, and his rays gave a little spin. “Do tell. Where is this said dance floor?” 

Swallowing down all of your nerves -and they went down as smoothly as a thick wad of dried bread, with no water to wash it down- you took Sun by the hand and pulled him towards the DJ booth. He gave a soft giggle clearly intrigued as he let you tug him along, his roller skates gliding easily along the floor. When you got to the DJ booth you began flipping through the vinyls looking for the record you had in mind. 

“Skates off," you told him. 

Once again Sun was taken aback by your request. “Sunshine, this is a skating rink,” he reminded you. 

“Oh, what's the matter?” You asked, throwing him a raised eyebrow and the hint of a smirk. “Afraid I'll show you up?” 

Sun laughed and it was the first genuine laugh you heard since... you shook your head. No you couldn't let those thoughts frazzle you now. Not when you had a good flow going. “Someone is feeling daring today,” Sun remarked, and he sounded pleased as punch about it. “All right, then. We’ll play by your rules.” 

While Sun changed out of his skates and into his casual footwear, you searched for a particular vinyl. It didn’t take you long to find what you were looking for, and once you got it set up, the music started and Heart of Glass by Blondie began blaring over speakers. You turned to face Sun and then you begin to move your hips to the music, doing a shuffle as your elbows and knees popped to the beat. 

Sun gazed at you in utter awe. “I didn't know you could dance, sunshine. You've been holding back on me!” 

Normally you didn't, normally you were too embarrassed and self-conscious to dance in front of others. But if this helped you to mend some kind of bridge… 

“Once I had a love, and it was a gas,” you sang as you swayed your hips. 

“Soon turned out, had a heart of glass,” Sun continued as he joined you, shuffling his feet, his limbs moving with a flawless elegance that was so enviable.

As it turned out Sun was just as graceful off the roller rink as he was on it. He matched you move for move and even had the cheek to embellish on some of them. Clearly trying to impress you, and probably also show off a little. Halfway through the song, Sun caught one of your hands and spun you around before pulling you into a dance of his own. With one hand holding yours and the other on your hip, he rocked and swayed your bodies together in time with the music. Your heart surged in your chest a mix of fear and something else. Excitement? Giddy? You decided not to look at it too closely and just enjoy the music and the rhythm that your bodies were making. 

The two of you spun and danced around the small space and you felt a little bit more in control without the skates to put you off balance. Sun did a good enough job of that to you as it was all on his own. At one point Sun had spun you around so that you were face away from him, and you were acutely aware of his hips gently grinding against yours as your back pressed against his chest. It was only for a moment, maybe two, but it caused you to fluster enough that you nearly had a misstep as Sun spun you back around to face him, his smile perfectly bright and innocent.

Despite your nerves, you felt yourself actually having fun. “Lost inside, adorable illusion and I cannot hide,” you sing softly. 

Sun continued the next lyric. “I'm the one you're using, please don't push me aside.” You heard his voice quiver a little at those last few words, his voice becoming almost pleading.  

He pulled you a little closer in the dancing and once again you felt your heart being clenched in your chest. A thought occurred to you just then. (You’d been having a lot of those lately.) What if Moon wasn't the only victim here? You saw how Sun acted around Afton, how whenever the owner came by Sun distanced himself from you. Maybe… maybe Sun acted the way he did because he had to. 

Was that stupid of you to think? Was that naive of you to wish that that was the case? At any rate, you couldn't allow yourself to fully believe it as much as you wanted to. There was too much doubt, too many holes in this gruesome picture that you found yourself a part of unwittingly. But in your heart of hearts you wanted to hold on to that hope that the Sun that you knew, the friend who had always been there to brighten your day and bring a smile to your face, you wanted to believe that that was the real Sun. 

The two of you finished out the song, Sun slowing down the dance as the outro played until he was just gently swaying you with him. Holding you close so that your heart was practically hammering against his chest plate. 

“I missed this,” he murmured against your hair. “I missed us.” 

“Me too,” you said, allowing yourself to be honest. 

Sun began humming, but not to the tune that was playing. It was a different song entirely. A much older one. “You Are My Sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray~. You'll never know dear how much I…” His whole body shuddered, his sun rays twitching and his words seemed to hitch. 

You stared up at him, your mouth agape. “S-Sun?” It was a question, and you still weren't sure you wanted to know the answer. 

Sun slowed the both of you to a halt, staring down at you with those pale eyes that seemed so… vulnerable at the moment. His hands reached up to cradle your face and your cheeks were hot against his cool silicone and metal digits. 

“I know you're still… uncertain. But unlike you, there is no doubt in my mind about how I feel.” 

He leaned down and in a panic, you closed your eyes too scared to back away or to move forward. But instead of a touch on your lips, you felt his smile press against your forehead in a sweet and affectionate gesture. 

“Not to worry, sunshine,” he said softly. “If… when that happens, it will be because you wanted it.” 

Your heart swelled and you almost wanted to cry. So many emotions and thoughts and feelings were swirling around in your head, distorting your reality and making you dizzy. Were you a terrible person for leading him on like this? Were you an even worse person for still loving him as much as you did? You opened your eyes to look at him but before you could say or think to say anything, you heard a distant banging on a door breaking the mood. 

Sun glanced over to the front doors, an unamused laugh emitting from him. “Looks like we have some eager beavers this morning. It's still ten minutes til opening.” 

Sun parted from you and you had to fight the urge to reach out and grab his windbreaker to stop him. He slipped his roller skates back on and flashed you his trademark grin. “I'll take care of things, sunshine. Why don't you go grab yourself a cup of coffee real quick? I made you a fresh pot.” 

“Thank you,” you said, giving him a smile. And for the first time in a while, it didn't feel forced. 

“No, thank you, sunshine.” He lingered in the doorway, gripping the door frame tightly. “I really needed this. More than I think you'll ever know.” 

With that, he skated off to help the customers, all while singing the song that was playing “The tide is high but I'm holding on, I'm gonna be your number one~.”

You collapsed down into one of the swivel chairs, needing to catch your breath from the whirlwind of the last several minutes. For just a short while things had felt normal again. It felt like you had your friend and crush back. The hope in your heart, once a little seedling, was starting to grow, and you were wondering if it was too late to root it out. You just prayed that Sun would keep his promise. Because the hurt at his betrayal would kill you long before a bullet from his gun.

[watermelonsugacry]

Little Freddie going with Louis to 1dbandmate!y/n concert for her tour and having a sign for her then seeing her after the show when she comes of stage and gives her the biggest hug and she’s so happy to see him 🥹

umm...YES 🥹

When she first gets risen on stage with her four back up dancers, posed and looking as elegant as ever in her iconic pink, glittery outfit. She looks out to the sea of fans filling up the stadium with their excited screams and lights on their phones. A cocky smile sits comfortably on her face, her eyes bouncing all over the crowd until they land on a little blonde lad with Louis's face.

Sat on his father's shoulders, Freddie's little arms hold up a sign above his head that has Hi Auntie YN! messily written on it with different colored markers.

Her smug look instantly turns into a surprised, loving one. In the little designated spot for family and friends at the side of the pit, she's pleasantly surprised to see that alongside her usual ensemble of her husband and her manager, Louis and her godson are there as well.

Harry knows how much the Tomlinsons mean to YN; aside from her wonderful stepmum, they were the family she needed when she had none growing up. So why not have her childhood best friend and godson be flown out for a surprise visit?

As she struts alongside her dancers, she returns the excited wave his little hand gives before hitting her first dance move for her opening song, Woman.

Throughout the whole night, fans can't miss the way YN keeps glancing back to where Freddie dances, jumping up and down with his arms raised in the air to the music she plays. But the audience doesn't mind that her attention drifts elsewhere given the way she has the happiest look on her face when she goes to the edge of the stage close to where he's at, jumping along with him.

Later on in the show as YN situates herself to sit down in front of the pit, sitting prettily on her thigh and leaning on her hand, she points over to her godson with a bright smile, "This one is for you, little lad!"

She giggles when he sees his little fists shoot up in the air, his mouth forming an "O" as he hollers not only at the recognition and song dedication, but when the beginning beats of R.E.M. begin to play--his favorite song of hers.

But nothing can compare to when after the show is done and YN goes into her green room. She hears her name first, and then she's quickly squatting down to be engulfed in a bone crushing hug. Freddie digs his little face in the crook of her neck, his arms encircling her neck so tight that it's like if he would left go, she would disappear.

Off to the side, Louis and Harry look onto the encounter with fond smiles. Ever since Freddie was born, YN has been attached to his side anytime she could. It made things easier when Louis' baby momma made a somewhat friendship with the pop star after YN had extended a generous offer to provide anything the new mom might need, before and after the baby. Brianna saw how YN's love for the child was genuine, how much she cared for the tiny baby swaddled in her arms.

In turn, anyone can see the love and admiration Freddie has towards YN. When he was still a baby and cried every hour of the day, he would magically stop and coo once he was in her arms. He would smile a toothless smile at the sound of her soft singing and would almost immediately fall asleep afterwards.

She spoils the child to no end, anything he wants is his. Just last Christmas, she gifted him yet another electric guitar and he did a impromptu performance with it, strumming it messily to showcase what he's learned so far.

She plays toy cars with him, facetimes him whenever she can, and she's never missed one of his birthdays.

Freddie loves her with all of the love his little heart can muster and quite frankly, he thinks she's the coolest person on the planet.

Time spent with him has decreased significantly since she's been on tour for almost two years now. She's missed him dearly and it warms her heart that he's finally in her arms. Even with the distance, their bond is still as strong as ever.

"Freddie," She lets out a playful groan as she stands back up, cradling his kola grip on her. "Yeh gotta stop growing mate or else I won't be able to carry you anymore."

"I can't control it!" The little boy laughs.

"You have to," She playful argues. "Yeh have to stay my baby forever. And ever and ever and ever..." She trails into his cheek before she smothers his face in kisses, making him break out into boyish giggles.

It's not long before she throws a smile at her other surprise guest for the night, "Hi, Louis."

"Hiya, love." Louis greets, kissing YN's cheek and giving her a hug the best he can while his son still clings to her. "S'good to see you, babe. This little guy hasn't stopped talking about how excited he was to see you."

"Yeah?" YN pulls back to look at the little boy's face, a smile that's identical to his father's when he was younger. She almost cries right then and there when Freddie leans in to press a gentle kiss to the center of her cheek. "I can say the same if I knew you lads were coming."

"It was Harry's idea to surprise you." Louis claps a hand over his old band mate's shoulder.

No words need to leave her lips because the look she gives to her husband is enough to express her gratitude. Harry gives her a quick peck on the lips, praising her on her performance for tonight.

"Don't think I'ma ever gonna to get used to that." Louis sighs, making the couple chuckle. It's only as if were yesterday that they were all touring together, Louis off on the sidelines as he watched these two secretly pine over the other during their time in the band. It's still crazy to see that now his old band mates who were forced to be apart now married and happier than ever.

"Did yeh want to show yeh aunt the sign you made her?" Louis ask rubbing his son's back.

"Oh yeah! Uncle Harry." Freddie wiggles out of YN's arms and goes over to his godfather who holds his sign.

YN gasps when the sign is presented to her. From her spot on the stage, she could only make out the big lettering, but now up close, she can see the little stickers, doodles of microphones and guitars, and other little writings he added: You're the best! You rock! I <3 YOU!

"Did you make this all by yehself?" She gasps. Freddie nods excitingly and she listens intently to all of his explanations for each doodle and sticker. After a while, YN explains how she's off to take a quick shower, get out of her performance outfit and into some more comfortable clothing with a promise of everyone going out for ice cream afterwards.

Now dressed in shorts and a hoodie, YN holds Freddie's hand while her other holds her gifted sign. They talk amongst themselves as the two men trail behind--their security surrounding them as they escort the group down the huge parking structure and towards a black Range Rover.

"She's going to great mum someday, huh?" Louis nods over to YN, who's now skipping along with his giggling son.

"I don't doubt it for a second." Harry agrees with so much love in his eyes. Louis sees it and a smirk tugs at his lips.

"Could that 'someday' be any time soon?"

The topic of having kids has only come up once or twice between the couple. Subconsciously, they both knew that they haven't been in a place to have a baby given that they've been on tour for a little over two years now; tour has been their baby.

But that doesn't mean the thought hasn't crossed their minds for the future.

It's not like Harry hasn't thought about a little him running around their living room. The boy's dimples digging into his cheeks like his father's as he laughs after YN finally catches him and smothers his face in kisses. Or for YN, the image of Harry holding his baby girl to his bare chest, rocking softly in a chair to get her to go to sleep. His hand coming up to brush away the curls on top of her head that she inherited from both of her parents.

The thought of starting a family excites Harry. He might not know it in this moment, but it does for YN, too. To have a family of her own, to provide the love and care to a child that she never received from either of her biological parents, is something she eternally hoped for since she was still living in her run-down home in Doncaster. And she knows with all of her heart, that Harry will make the best dad in the world.

Their kids will not go a day without being told and shown that they are loved.

Now with their world tours coming to an end, who knows what their future holds?

"Who knows." Harry chuckles, deciding that to be his answer for the time being.

But he does know one thing for sure: YN will make a great mum to his children someday.

.

SINCE 2010 masterlist

taglist:

@ashtongivesmebutterflies @cacapeepee @harianaswhore @gxbigs @mvaldez7821 @yourfavplayboybunny @drewrry @thurhomish @roseke @majasophieanna @lilfreakjez @rach2699 @renatavieira

[nex-ture]

Hello!! Can I request chuuya or dazai x GN! Reader who’s helpless romantic and just always give them praise no matter what they are doing? ALSO SORRY IF REQUESTS ARENT OPEN but make sure you drink water and take plenty care of yourself!^^

Chuuya Nakahara x Gender Neutral Reader

Me after saying I'm gonna post more and the dipping for another month

This requests old..anyways! Also this does include them both, scroll down for Dazai.

From the start of your relationship, Chuuya always enjoyed your company and the things you'd say. He would always get a little jealous if you were friendly with others, but he knew it was just in your nature.

Though you were far nicer to him. Constantly praising him or making flirty remarks whenever he is around. They'd always leave him a hot red mess.

From before your relationship started, he would always yell at you whenever you made small comments, "You look so hot today Chuuya". It pissed him off how easily your words made him melt.

He's a feared and respected port mafia boss, and yet you break him down like he's nothing. He feels a sense of comfort when he's around you.

He doesn't need to keep up some scary front when you're around. He can relax and drown in your voice as you talk to him. Your compliments and comments mean a lot more to him than he lets on.

He can't imagine living in a world without your constant praise over his existence. You're the family he wasn't allowed to have, and you make sure he knows it.

Dazai Osamu x Gender Neutral Reader

Dazai would love the way you flirted with him all the time. He would flirt back, to an extent..

You would be his main excuse for missing work, "I was with Y/n!", "Y/n wanted to hang out today." Kunkida is tired of both of you.

When he falls into a more stern or serious mood, he'll take your compliments to heart. Knowing you truly mean the words you're saying holds a lot of weight to him.

He's aware that he's not the best person. The idea of someone truly loving who he is is beyond him.

This doesn't cancel out his obnoxious-ness. He will make everyone around you twos lives a living hell. If you compliment him, he has to compliment you in the dumbest ways possible.

"Oh my love, please jump off the agency with me." All you have to do is say. "You look beautiful today, Osamu." and he will ask you to kill yourself with him.

Not to mention his clingy-ness. If you tell him he smells good, he'll cling to you all day. He just wants to make sure you get to smell the beauty that is him all day.

If you ever gift him something like a rose, he'll take it as a sign that you want to jump into a pit of spikes or thorns with him.

He makes your life all the more interesting.

[james-silent-hill]

(Make sure to read part 1, 2 and 3 first !!!)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Enjoy:

It takes a bit of internal bargaining until you fully come to understand it.

James left you.

You were hopeful in the first few minutes after waking up the next morning, even the first few hours you tried to stay positive but.. He didn't come back. Sure this place is somewhat safe but it doesn't change the fact that you too are stuck in this town. How could he just leave like that? You genuinely thought the two of you had some type of connection.

Not just because of the quick and rough sex, but this almost whole night of talking. Laughing. Sharing stories while trying not to gaze at the other for too long, you actually started believing that he liked you and would keep you safe.

You're scared to open the door, you shouldn't look for him to begin with but there's still a small echo in your head that says 'maybe something just happened to him'. Maybe he didn't leave to be a dick.

Pushing the door open and being almost blinded by how thick the fog is isn't helpful.

You wander around just as lost as you were before you found him, it's hard to know where you already were and which area is new for you. You can't yell out for him either, you have no idea who or what may be listening around here.

You are strangely starting to miss him, you miss his soft and calm tone, the way his jacket smelled when you had it on. You miss his gaze on your legs and thighs, the one look that always seemed to undress you with his mind.

You miss his perfect lips and slightly imperfect teeth, even the soft bump on the bridge of his nose. You wonder if he ever looked at you that intensely, noticed everything unique and pretty about your face. Or if you were just a little distraction for him.

You round some corners. Temporarily get lost in a scary much more run down Apartment building but it's all to no avail. Not a single sight of him, as if he was never real. Fuck. What if he wasn't real?? The more you search in the thick fog the more it feels like you are losing your damn mind.

But swinging open another door carelessly .. the sight makes you scream.

It's that thing again.

Triangle shaped helmet... long blade... this is it, you are going to die. You are really certain this time.

You try to run but it grabs your shoulder, arm, holds onto your clothes until you fall onto the floor. It drags you off into the darkness by your feet and your horrid screams are the only Sound that remains.

Echoing through Silent Hill.

______

"Did you hear that???" James asks the little girl he was talking to but when he looks back she's suddenly gone.

Those were some loud screams. A sickening feeling sets into his stomach. It wasn't the Direction of Heavens Night right?

It wasn't....

But that thought doesn't leave him alone, he brings the puzzle and riddles to an end. Whatever their purpose was, another door opened, he could go in deeper, further, jump down that awful looking pit. But something in his chest tells him 'not yet'. He needs to make sure that you are okay, he owes you that much.

He manages to return to Heavens Night but there is no sight of you, no sight that you two were actually even there. Shit. His search doesn't get him anywhere either.

"You are wasting your time, you know? She's not gonna help you, she can't. She's not even good for you! You never loved Mary if you keep looking for this other woman" The little girl taunts sitting on a brick wall.

"That's not true! I cared! I cared so much..." James protests but the girl disappears again.

'Brat' he mumbles to himself.

The search for you doesn't go unnoticed, these monsters seem so much more aggressive now. Every door is closed and needs some kind of key or puzzle. This town is really trying to make him stop looking for you. But he won't. Mary is always on his mind but he can't let you get hurt, you were the first person to genuinely make him laugh again after....

He got to forget for just a few hours. Got to be himself again, got to feel comfortable in your presence.

When he rounds another corner of the Hospital he enters a room that doesn't have much, just some strong prison like metal bars. The other side is too dark to make anything out yet.

"James?!" You claw at the bars.

"I found you!" His face shows nothing but relief.

You try to awkwardly hug him through the bars, breathing in deeply, that false scent of safety.

When you end the hug a soft wincing escapes you.

"Are you hurt?!" He worries, both hands holding onto the bars. They certainly won't budge.

"What happened?" He asks worriedly.

But you slowly come to your senses, sitting back some.

"You left me. Didn't you? You just took off." You frown, you regret showing him so much joy when he first came in here.

He left you.

You could have died.

"I'm sorry." James looks away.

"You're sorry?! God. It's not like you did it accidentally right? You thought about it. Then you did it. You actively made that decision to leave me alone, let me fend for myself. And look what happened! That fucking thing...He grabbed me, I Fell, he dragged me off, threw me in here. In the dark. I've been going crazy! Crazy! Thinking I’d have to die here. Behind bars. In the pitch black" You huff.

It still feels as if he isn't understanding this properly. How scared you were. How disappointed you were when you woke up and he was just gone, how scary this thing was that dragged you off and threw you in here.

He seems conflicted about the fact that he cares and you can see him so clearly battling with himself about this.

"You're right. Okay? I shouldn't have left, I should have kept you safe, I thought you'd stay in that club I didn't think you'd wander around." He frowns deeply, yet he can't look into your eyes.

"I did it for you. I thought something happened to you" You lean against the bars, taking a deep breath.

"You went out there with no weapons to look for me? Why?" He huffs. "Why would you care that much?" His hands keep a white knuckling grip on the prison bars.

"You don't even know me." James points out.

"I guess I just....-" You shrug, moving your hand to lay it on his.

"I guess I like you or something. From what I know so far about you. You don't drink. You are scared of huge spiders.." You chuckle softly.

"And behind all that guilt covering you from head to toe and that sadness in your eyes is just someone else. You know?" You squeeze his hand a little.

"Someone I feel comfortable with." Your eyes search his and that fairly new expression on his face makes you want to form into liquid so that you can squeeze through these bars and wrap around him for as long as he needs it.

James' vision gets clearer, the room doesn't appear so dark and scary anymore. He runs his thumb over the back of your hand.

"Can you forgive me? For leaving you? I didn't do it because I don't care about you. But I came here for someone and the more I ignore that the more desperate and helpless I feel, I couldn't bear it anymore. The flashbacks. The memories of her..-" He cuts himself off.

"I am sorry for leaving." James rests his head against the bars, staring at you, no longer avoiding your gaze but rather begging it for forgiveness.

"Just get me out of here okay?" You lift his hand up, giving the back of it a soft kiss before you drop it. But that apology? It felt deep. It didn't feel like he didn't mean it, you understand what it feels like to be haunted by flashbacks.. the darkness in here reminded you of everything you've done wrong. Especially on that night of the accident.

"I will." James straightens up. Walking towards the door on his side.

"Don't worry, okay? I will get you out" He throws you a little smile before he's gone again.

And you are left in the darkness again.

______

You don't have any track of time but it did take a while, a long while until you hear him on the other side of your door.

Your weight shifts from one foot onto the other, the anxiety is sitting deep in your stomach. You really do hope it's him tempering with the lock….

It takes a few more minutes and then finally that door is swinging open. Oh thank god you won't have to die there, in a room full of darkness and prison bars.

You can't help but to hug him tightly.

"I won't leave like that again I promise" James lets a hand run over your back but when it nears your hip you wince softly again. "You are hurt.." He moves himself out of the tight embrace, a careful hand slides up your shirt looking at your hip.

"Don't be upset but I rather not hear anyone make any promises, it disappoints me too much" You take a step back, rolling the shirt back down. "It's nothing, just a bruise, god knows I had plenty of those" You huff. That's where you fell when that thing grabbed you and dragged you away holding your legs.

"I gotta earn your trust back?" He asks a bit worried at first but then he agrees. "Right of course, it makes sense, don't worry I will." He takes another hold of your side to take another look at that bruise.

His fingers are gentle and slow trying to feel if your bone might have taken some damage too but the noise that Slips from your lips is not a pain strained one.

"I'll just never fall asleep around you again so you won't even get a chance" You chuckle a bit.

"We should get you something for that pain, let you rest a bit" He moves to pull his hand away but you move yours onto his, keeping it there.

"I want you to bruise me like that" You sigh.

"I think I might be hearing voices again." James looks at you worried.

"No, I actually said it." Your hand presses his strongly into your hip and you huff out a soft moan.

"I didn't get you out to hurt you." He takes a good two steps back trying to catch his breath. Hearing you...seeing you like this? It makes him ache in places he didn't know he could ache.

"I know! I know, it's just, I want you to use me. I want you to have your way with me” You can’t help but to feel this way. “I want you so hard that I can't stand anymore, James." You move your hands over your own stomach and chest. "Please don't overthink this, I need this. To calm down. To survive this fucking town." You are close to begging.

"Why?! Why do you want me to hurt you" He asks worriedly, that isn't normal. It shouldn't be like this.

"I don't know! Okay? I can't...- I can't explain, I just do. Pain helps me to focus I guess and it lets me breathe, it grounds me." You take off the thick Black security jacket, letting it fall on the ground.

You open the zipper of the skirt, letting it slide down your legs.

Now you are only in a top and a pantyhose with that special knitting and those flat half leather boots.

James feels like he's being torn apart on the inside, it's something that helps him too, god knows having a woman liking it rough is quite the nice experience but.. actively hurting someone for their pleasure still feels wrong. He wants to make you feel good, he wants to admire your body and Touch your skin gently while you want to be handled rough and violent.

Either outcome feels wrong.

But you look so desperate, when he sees your hands run over your own body to undress yourself. When you stand there trying to show off your body... He doesn't hear that voice anymore since he first gave in to you, but doing it again? In a room like this?

"You have no idea how much I loved it the first time do you? When you shoved yourself into me like that, god, when your hand closed around my throat.” Your body remembers and it sends a chill of excitement down your spine. “I need you" You take off your top too, revealing a lacy bra which hasn't been the best supporter but at least it looks kind of cute.

James drops his jacket, tossing his weapons and whatever else he kept in his pockets onto it.

"You promise? You promise that you love it, you promise that I'm not really hurting you or your feelings?" James asks, he takes a step closer to you, hand opening his belt slowly.

"I promise James." You sigh, hearing him rip the belt out of its loops. Fuck, that's a sound you like hearing. The sight of him folding that belt between his hands makes you gasp softly. There is a certain look of determination on his face, he knows what you need now, he knows he can't really hurt you.

It's a dangerous game every time.

He wraps the belt around your throat and all you want to do is say 'thank you'.

His leather belt against your skin, the focus in his eyes when he closes it, tightens it.

When he admires the way it looks on you, traces your collarbone and chest with the back of his hand before he reaches around you and easily opens the hooks of your bra.

His gaze while taking in the sight of your bare chest, that pure, raw, unfiltered lust dripping from his features. The rough swallow in his throat....

Everything is perfect about it.

Your hands tremble with excitement before you reach out, opening the buttons on his shirt one by one. His fast breathing is Interesting, you can't tell if it's just excitement or if there's a ton of anxiety in it too.

But when you open the last button and his chest and stomach is revealed you smile wide. You didn't take him for the ripped muscle guy type to begin with. You love the softness. Not unfit in any way just not someone who hits the gym. His body matches his face and the way he carries himself. But he doesn't let you take it fully off, he's busy with something else before you get a chance.

His head moves down to press a heated kiss against your chest. It doesn't take long before his lips and tongue find your nipple, teasing it intensely before he uses his teeth to softly pull on it. "Fuck...-" You stroke your hand through his blonde hair.

When his head moves up again your lips are insanely close. But before you can kiss him he roughly spins you around.

He shoves you into the metal bars and god that cold rough metal against your breasts opens up a whole new kind of turn on. You stay exactly like that, every movement makes your nipple rub against the bars.

He really found his spirit this time. He knows what he's doing now.

His hands slide down your pantyhose and underwear, a dark Red blush creeps onto your face. There should still be some evidence left of your first time together.

He even goes as far as teasing you, his hips are pressed flush against your ass while he's still in his jeans and all you can feel is that denim outline of his cock.

"You want me to hurt you?" He asks surprisingly carefully.

You nod and whisper "Yes...please..." over and over again.

The smack he brings down onto your butt makes your entire body jolt forward, bars pressing into your breasts again.

You would have liked more of that but you don't say a word when you hear his zipper and the clink of his jeans dropping to the ground. He's giving you everything you asked for and then some.

He takes a hold of the metal bars next to you, his other hand moves his aching hard length into you. No warnings. No hesitations.

Your legs shake when he pushes all the way inside.

But this time he gives you a moment to adjust to him.

And then his hand takes the long end of the belt around your neck. He pulls his body with the grip on the bars and the grip on the belt to thrust into you as hard as he possibly can. Nobody ever made you feel this way, out of all the rough sex you had this is it, this is the hardest thrusts your body had ever had to endure and you love every single second of it.

The belt tightens around your throat while every forceful thrusts makes your tits and nipples rub along the cold, hard metal bars.

Your hands hold onto the bars for support.

And despite his thrusts, despite the belt being so tight around your throat...

His hand covers yours on the metal bar.

God. Fuck him for still giving a shit while he's screwing your brains out. You can't even help the loud and desperate scream like moans anymore. Or whatever sound gets out of a tightened throat.

His low groans and moans however catch you a bit off guard. He sounds so desperate every time, it's almost like a whimper while he's thrusting. It's hot, it's as if he can't help himself. He's a vocal guy and you love hearing his deep pathetic moans... They don't match the force of his hips at all which makes you squirm against him even more.

Due to the tight grip on the belt around your throat your vision quickly darkens. Your legs wobble for a moment and he slips out of your drenched core. But he doesn't still his hips to readjust; he simply presses his cock between your folds and you can feel his tip rub against your clit.

Thankfully he does let go of the belt and your hand can untighten it a bit, you wouldn't want to actually pass out.

You stand up a bit straighter, squeezing your legs together while he's thrusting between your lips.

It feels so insanely good. You love hard and deep penetration but this way your entire sex is getting a good treatment. It's so filthy. The sound of it, the feeling of it... his moans while doing it.

His arm moves around your stomach pulling you closer, god he feels so good, but as nice as this is you are way too desperate. You need him where he belongs. You need to have him as deep inside as possible while he holds you so tight.

"Please....I need you James, I need you so bad" who's whimpering now.

His hand leaves a drag of his fingernails on your side and your hip before his hand readjusts. Shoving himself back as deep into you as he can, the grip suddenly on your right hip, on that exact bruise has you gasping harder for air than when you were choked by that belt.

"That's a good girl.." He breathes out.

God that talk! It's so unexpected, you are a good girl for him! There's no shame in that. You just moan in agreement.

His hand wanders from your hip upwards over your stomach. Squeezing your breasts between the bars, his breathing is shaky, he's starting to work up some willpower not to cum any second.

His hard thrusts slow down just a bit, he doesn't want to cum too soon and it's dreadful. The teasing. You want him to but he drags it out and it feels so sweet, it makes you desperate for him, completely at his goddamn mercy.

His hand lets go of your chest and then you feel a hard smack against your cheeks again. You want to come so bad, you just need a bit more, you need it harder. "Fuck fuck..." You squirm against him some more and then he finally picks up that pace again.

You nearly pass out when you finally clench around him, when your legs shake and all you can do is moan his name loudly. You tightening around him makes him grit his teeth, it takes everything in him not to cum inside you, again.

He doesn't want to make something like that a habit.

When that last wave of orgasm is over your hands still tightly hold onto the metal bars. He feels incredible. He fits so perfectly inside you, you don't ever want to feel anyone else in you ever again.

You audibly whine when he pulls out.

But he doesn't go far, he simply returns to do what he did earlier when he pulled out accidentally. He moves his cock between your folds so that at the right angle you can feel his tip rubbing over your clit.

You squeeze your legs together some more to make it tighter for him, and the moans coming out of that man make your jaw drop. He sounds so pretty, it's like music, those breathy shaky, incredibly needy moans.

His chest is flush against your back and both of his arms wrap around your middle when he finally cums too.

Rows of his cum land on the cold hard floor in front of your shoes, but you're distracted. You're distracted by his arms around you, the way he's holding you so tightly. Even though you miss the feeling you're glad not another pair of underwear is going to be ruined. It's better this way. Even if you crave the feeling of his cum deep inside of you.

He's done. Why is he still holding you?

“What are you doing?” You ask a bit confused, cum and go is the usual thing for you. Not linger in a tight embrace.

“I'm..- Holding you?” James carefully puts his chin onto your shoulder.

“Yeah, I can tell, but why?” You feel a little uncomfortable.

“Did no one hold you after they had that kind of sex with you?” He asks and the undertone in that question almost makes you sick. It feels like pity or something equally as bad.

You just shake your head. You don't know how to answer this without feeling a faint scent of devastation. Because no one held you after they used you like that, not once.

“Is it okay for you if I do?” He asks.

You nod, reluctantly.

It doesn't feel bad, it just feels so new, it's truly something you have to get used to first.

“It's important to me, part of the package for… sex like that.” Rough and almost violent deserves gentle and sweet after. At least in James' book.

His body is so warm, he's so comfortable. You just want to lean back further and further until you lay on him like a mattress. His hands are soft and kind to your body now, you even almost forgot about the way he's still between your legs. It just feels right. Skin to skin. Sex to Sex.

God if this damn place had candles in this room, this might be the most kind anyone has ever been to you.

“Thank you.” You huff a little.

“No, not for that, that's not something you have to thank someone for okay? It's called aftercare, it's important…” James places a soft kiss behind your ear.

“I do it because I care.” His voice seems wavy at that sentence. Not as in he didn't mean it, but as in he had to prove one too many times to someone or something that he did In Fact care.

“Okay, it's just new, that's all. A whole new world” You point out.

After standing like this for a few minutes longer you decide at some point that it's been enough. Mr. ‘I don't even kiss you but I feel the need to give you aftercare’ can pack it up now.

Maybe that was a bit harsh, he cares and there is a good reason as to why he isn't the kissing and making out type.

Sleeping with someone new for the first time after you lost someone is not nearly as hard as kissing someone new. You erase their lips from yours forever in a way.

So you really do understand.

It doesn't take too long for you to put all items of clothing back on, though when he reaches to take the belt off your neck you can't help but to give him a soft wink, he chuckles and looks away as if he's shy about his previous confidence.

Cute.

“Wanna get out of here now?” He looks around the scary room, taking a deep breath.

“Yeah I've been dying to” You follow him outside, grateful that you won't have to stay a second longer in that room. That strange metal bars room, you still wonder what it meant, what its purpose was. It probably wasn't meant for steamy, rough sex.

You follow him anywhere, stopping when he stops, pointing at a square shaped hole in the ground.

“No! No you're not really thinking about jumping down there right?” You huff.

“I think we have to go deeper.” James isn't a huge fan of that idea either, but it's almost as if it's calling him, he can hear a soft sound coming from it. He knows it's calling for him.

“You don't have to, you can wait for me somewhere.” He suggests but the longer you stare at it the more it feels as if he's right, you should go with him. Don't get split up again.

“No, I don't wanna get separated again. I don't want to be alone James” Your voice is dripping with anxiety.

“Down we go then…” He takes a shaky breath himself. What if the two of you are jumping to your deaths now?

“Guess so, see you on the other side?” You say jokingly but his eyes are big, that terrified look in them haunts you a little.

“Right.” James takes the first step, letting himself fall into it.

You follow right after, everything is pitch black.

____________

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