#i just love him in a tee shirt and he hardly wore them

[thatbanditqueen]

what i would do to him... or roll over and let him do to me.... sing me your school song sweet boy....

Elvis on location at Lake Pontchartrain, New Orleans, LA, for Paramount’s “King Creole” on Tuesday, March 4, 1958.

[akaisentouki-a]

"Is that my shirt?"

🥬 caught wearing the shirt

Thought alone hardly phased Chiaki in the slightest as hands clutched about the shirt Midori left sitting out. While he's worn something of the taller's in the past, there's a difference between acting in such a manner for someone's benefit and acting in a manner for personal benefit. The Ryusei Red certainly was getting more and more comfy with the idea of acting personally for himself constantly than attempting to pass his actions off as for the benefit of others.

Well, he's still not about to stop acting to the benefit of others as a helping hand any time soon, though. A dream so dear in reality.

Though, when around Midori, he began showing colors he hadn't shown to anyone else except for Kanata. That selfish agenda so desperately he tried to keep down for traditions... Thus, upon taking hold of Midori's shirt, again it came from a desire within himself. Midori's clothes prove to be so much bigger than his own, far more baggy than he's used to.

A reminder of the hoodie he wore a while ago for Ryusei Green. Their favorite hoodie. Even this shirt he held reeked so heavily of their adoration for mascots and cute characters. Their charm, for sure. He's already removed his own shirt to promptly slide it over his torso. Chiaki glances at himself in the mirror, hands upon hips and puffing up his chest.

Not too bad, if he thinks so to himself. Perhaps a shirt just a size larger than his typical size wouldn't be too significantly horrible to own for himself. A decent amount of breathing room... He could always steal this shirt from Midori and claim it as his own, at least for a short period of time. He wouldn't mind any question that arise from it -- simply explaining he wished to feel closer to the younger's love for these mascots!

The rabbit's not typical for him, but it's not too bad. Would Midori notice if he-- Thoughts are cut short when he hears soft, low vocals questioning him. Chiaki turns to peer over his shoulder at the head of messy light brown locks. Those soft emerald orbs staring him down with that all too familiar stare of annoyance. A wide smile cracks upon the older's features.

"Oh, Takamine! What do you think? Sure, this is your shirt, but I wondered how it'd look on me! It's far looser than what I normally wear, but it's not all that bad! I don't have character shirts like this, most of my tees have my favorite heroes on them... but it's still a comfortable tee! Don't you believe I could pull off wearing something bigger than my normal size? I see some of the other idols wearing a size larger clothing, so it wouldn't stand out too much."

[s1ater]

pretty boy. louis partridge x reader

summary 📣: in which reader and louis share their first kiss

warning/s 🚫: swearing

slater’s note 🗯: i never really wrote a fic in relation to “romance” (or whatever) for louis so here you are

louis was so pretty, you could hardly believe he was standing right before you with his stupid brown beautiful eyes that slowly grazed across yours every once and awhile as he spoke and laughed.

you hadn’t seen him in a long time with the killing schedule of boarding school weighing on your back while his growing career made it impossible for you to ever see his pretty face.

his hair was longer and curling at the nape of his neck, eyes underlining with a dark shade of red filled with lack of sleep.

and he was taller, his shoulders slouched with the heavy pressures of the things that filled his soul these days, work, acting, friends, skating, playing the piano. his white tee shirt held up onto his shoulders, covering the chain wrapped around his neck.

you could see it dangle, waving back and forth as he leaned over, hitting against his tanning chest and the fabric of his tee, the shirt cutting it off from dipping any further into the air as he would lean.

he had such a pretty face with his dimples that poked into his cheeks, pinning them up high as he smiled, a laugh usually following the opened mouth smile, his teeth white and tongue poking out in amusement.

it reminded you of when you were a child, when you’d dip your toes into the cold water creek close to your house next to the boy you watched now, only younger but just as careless and silly.

he’d stick his tongue out mindlessly while in full concentration, whether that being trying to cross to the other side of the cold water creek close to your house, the current splashing strongly against his ankles or the simple task of coloring a picture.

you had adored the boy then and even more did so now.

you learned to fall in love with him even more in the past week of your break from boarding school, learning and picking up on more and more of his little things.

such as the way his eyes just barely peaked out from his brow hair when it got messy and fell from being pushed back with gel. his eyes usually seeking out for yours, a soft smile following.

and the way he seemed so much more intense, impulsive, really. having to do everything right in that moment, his movements always quick and meaningful, usually pulling you along up the mountain of activities by the thread of your fingers.

but when he settled down, he really did so. taking deep enjoyment in the calmness of the cool london air from underneath a cafe umbrella, with you usually across from him, ready to poke and tease him for the black shades he wore, even as it wasn’t so bright and harsh of sunlight.

he found just as much pleasure in the quiet and blissful winds just as the chaos and quick moving moments. he learned so much from when he was just fifteen, and even though he was much older, he had grown with events and lessons that took place in his life ever since you had left.

he wanted to tell you so much, to tell you of all the people he had met, to tell you of his old friends that continued to stay in that same position, to tell you of travels, and books, and his family, and how he so so missed you.

you’d watch with complete and utter focus of content, feeling a sweet sensation of being finally home, being home with him.

“i always thought you were the prettiest boy i’ve ever seen,” you whispered up to him once you were close, his head dipped down close to yours as you laid your hand against his warm cheek.

you felt silly for saying it but you had thought you’d never see him again and while being on the last day of your visit from boarding school, you saw your chance.

he took a step closer to you, laying a hand on your own cheek, stroking his thumb against your cheekbones, reaching all the way down to your jaw.

he could fall in love with you just as you did with him and all simply because of your bright eyes that made him melt. your whole entire soul and heart poured out from your irises, eating him away as all he wanted to do was be with you fully and forever.

he wanted to hold you, hug you, kiss you, do anything and everything to make you aware of all the heavy affection he had for you that burdened his mind.

“i adore you, pretty,” he thumbed your cheek before leaning his head close to yours, turning it up to the sky at the slightest to meet your lips better.

his lips were soft and he was gentle, his other hand now meeting the other side of your cheek, making sure your close, making sure he can feel you and every bit of you. and you melt to his touch, your back laying lowly as you begun to feel more calm, leaning into his slim, warm body.

you exhale into the kiss, a feeling of relief overcoming you as if every one of your problems was lifted from your shoulders and away into the foggy london train station air.

“don’t go,” he whines, his lips still just barely connected to yours, a pout beginning to fill his lips, “i only want you to stay, nothing else.”

you have been waiting for those words since you were thirteen. well not exactly those words but something along those lines, something that linked him to wanting you.

you loved him since you were ten, longed for his attention since your teens, even more then he had already given you, and now, at seventeen he held you in his arms, now he loved you just the same as your heart did of him.

“just stay, and i’ll be yours.”

masterlist

taglist 🗞:

join my taglist bae

@w0nderr @deadbeatbarb @phantompogues @alexmercer-reginaldpeters

[bloggerspam]

Chapter 5: Teacher Teacher

For @underforeversgrace and @sheabeeprime again

i'm doing my best to cram as many prompts into this phic as I can, frantically shoe-horning as much as i can like little puzzle pieces.

===

William Lancer is, frankly, too tired and underpaid for this shit. 

But against all odds he loves kids, and genuinely thinks they are the future. 

Bleak as that future may be. 

The best he can do is help them when they need it.

And Animal Farm, do they need it.

Often.

And consistently. 

All internal monologue levity aside, Will is especially concerned for the Fenton boy.

He used to be a good, rule abiding boy. He used to get A’s and though his parents were hardly going to win “Parents-of-the-Year” award, they at least loved their children, as far as Will knew.

Didn’t they?

But Daniel has been skipping classes, his grades have been falling, and his attitude has been….erratic.

And that’s not to mention the scars. 

He started noticing the scars mid-year, just as the weather started to warm up, and Daniel had yet to shed his jacket. 

Most of the people of Amity Park liked to keep to themes—Will himself is victim of it, keeping to his blue polos and comfy but professional looking plaid pants. 

There were exceptions here or there, who wouldn’t get bored every now and then? 

But Daniel usually wore that red and white raglan tee shirt–occasionally some kind of NASA paraphernalia. 

Summer was fast creeping up, and Daniel has yet to shed his jacket—not even during PE. 

People were starting to notice—the other teachers whispering about the scars on the boys hands, the occasional flash of scarring on the nape of his neck, and if his sleeves were hiked up for a moment, even on his arms. 

Mrs. Tetslaff had come to him after school one day, telling him that Daniel was forced to change into shorts after an incident at lunch. 

“The scars are on his legs, Lancer.” She had gruffly whispered. Her fists were clenched and her entire countenance screamed anger. 

“It’s not his parents.” Will had said then, because it wasn’t. He had dropped by the Fenton’s on random occasions, to speak with the parents as delicately as he could manage.

Just in case. 

But whilst the Drs Fenton were guilty of a certain degree of neglect (with young Jasmine was picking up the slack) they loved their children dearly. 

But where, then, did the scars come from?

The teachers were wary, and even the students were picking it up. 

Something was off about the young Fenton boy, and Will was helpless against it. 

When Summer came with no answers and an abundance of questions, Will became more determined. 

He would see the boy around town—it was hard not to occasionally see one of his students in a small town like Amity Park—and he seemed fine, jovial even.

But the long sleeves stayed. 

It wasn’t until the night before the boy’s sophomore year began that anybody got answers.

It was too bad that they didn’t realize the enormity of the situation. 

It was too bad that the only one who seemed to be helping was the young Weston boy. 

Will was ashamed by how hesitant he was to believe the dream. 

As adults, they should have known better. 

But even if it was a little late, even if it took them almost a year to do anything about it beyond whispering in the hallways, Will was happy.

Because the Fenton boy needed him.

And like with all his other students, it was Will’s job to do his best to provide help.

Mr. Weston seemed to have the student’s help in hand, with Miss Gray providing aid with a fervor nobody seemed to expect.

Will sits here now, in the teacher conference room amongst his colleagues and thought to himself: Let the kids handle the kids. 

He stares at the white board where Principal Ishiyama had written in bright red “G.I.W.” on one side and “FENTON PARENTS” on the other, a variety of bullet points listed under each category.

The adults would handle the adults. 

It was their job as teachers, after all.

Chapter 1: Beginning of an End

For @sheabeeprime and @uniasus for this year's @phicphight !

===

The thing about Fenton is that he’s not…..subtle. 

Star thinks about this as she watches him struggle with his locker. Kwan’s just about to offer to help—she can see it in her peripherals—before Fenton groans, looks left and right (completely missing them loitering across the hall directly behind him) and sticks his hand into the locker. 

He’s fiddling around with the lock, trying to unlock it, instead of doing the completely reasonable thing and just. Grabbing the thing he wanted to grab. Why bother with the lock at all if he’s just gonna stick his hand in anyway?

She and Kwan share a look at that. Kwan scratches the back of his head, looking around to see if anybody else could tell him what to do, before settling on her pleadingly. 

She sighs, shaking her head and closing her eyes against the headache that she feels coming on. It’s Senior Year. You’d think after 3 years, Fenton would get better at hiding, not worse. 

But then again…it did take the majority of Casper High a year to even realize something was wrong with the boy.

She thinks about that, before correcting herself. There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s just….not all right either. She shakes her head, walking off to the nearest classroom door. It’s early in the morning so the halls are still relatively empty. Star and Kwan are only here because of morning practice. 

She wonders, idly, why Fenton is so early. He’s usually late, but then again the ghosts have been getting better about leaving him alone these days. Fenton’s lost those wretched eye-bags he kept carrying around like Paulina and her prada bags. 

She opens the door softly, placing Kwan in front of her and placing her hand on his broad back, as if pushing him out. She slams the door behind her, pushing Kwan who blessedly goes with it. 

“Star! What’s the rush?” Fenton jumps, yanking his hand out and inadvertently tripping the locker open. 

“We’re gonna be late to practice.” She says, primly. 

“Alright alright, oh, hey Fentino.” Kwan chuckles, as they pass by Danny. 

He flinches, picking up the books that spilled out. “Hey, Kwan. Star.” 

He starts pulling at his sleeves, always long sleeved nowadays, but no sleeve is long enough to cover the scars that litter his wrists and fists. She gives him a sweet smile, staunchly ignoring the way his answering nervous smile has too many teeth. 

“Morning Danny. See you later.” She stops pushing at Kwan to pull up beside him. He takes her hand, squeezing it gently as they make their way down the hall. Just before they turn the corner she sees Danny stare at his hand in fear. He flexes it, and she notices that it has claws, before they disappear and he breathes out a shakey sigh.

“It’s getting worse, isn’t it?” Kwan says softly. She looks up at him, and his sad far away stare. 

She doesn’t want to answer–doesn’t want to face the truth of it. But this is Kwan.

“Yes.” Of all the A-listers, she’s the only one that seems to be on neutral terms with Danny, and the only one who see exactly how many times it’s been a close call. 

His hand squeezes hers, and the rest of the walk to practice is deathly silent. Because what can you say to that? Nothing. 

She squeezes back. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

I.R.L.📷2

Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, voyeurism/exhibitionism, slight stalking, masturbation, naughty talk.

This is dark!(camboy!)Andy Barber. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your guilty pleasures becomes and all too real terror.

Note: Okay, here’s the second and last part of this short little piece. Thanks for reading and the excitement. I’m sorry if I’m a bit blegh rn.

Thank you so much for your patience! And support!!

As always, if you are so inclined, please like, reblog, and comment. <3

Andy stared at the chat. He waited and waited but the green dot didn’t pop up. Maybe she was freaked out after meeting him. Or maybe she was over him. Her name hadn’t blipped up in any of his sessions in the last week and he even invited her to an impromptu private show after he got back from the café. He hoped her seeing him might nudge her but it only seemed to scare the fuck out of her.

He recalled how she nearly fell on her face running away from him. That wasn’t the reaction he was expecting. No preening or smiles, just terror and a quick escape. He didn’t understand. He was a good looking guy and she was obviously lonely. Hell, she was cute too. He was hardly disappointed.

He waited another fifteen minutes, distracting himself with the colour matching game on his phone but her status remained inactive. He scrolled through his bookmarks and clicked on her insta profile. She had commented on some DIY tutorials in the last hour but hadn’t posted. She only ever added pictures of flowers anyway; her last photo of herself was from a year ago. It was her and some guy but he could guess they were no longer together.

He was starting to get upset. She was ignoring him. He wasn’t stupid but what had he done? Their sessions were going well up until this week and he actually looked forward to them. He felt that same thrill he had when he first started his hustle.

He slammed his laptop shut and dropped his phone face down. Fuck it, he had better stuff to do.

He crossed the room and grabbed one of the boxes still stacked against the wall. He hauled it over to the empty bookshelf and flipped it open. He unpacked the books one at a time and the heavy bookend shaped like half a globe. He didn’t know why he brought all these things, he didn’t use them. He wasn’t a lawyer anymore.

He leaned against the side of the sofa and crossed his arms. He boxed up his whole life, or what was left of it, and drove halfway across the country. She couldn’t even give him a hello or her name. She could hardly look at him and she wouldn’t answer his goddamn messages.

He pushed himself straight and stormed over to his laptop. He ripped it open and clicked on the chat. Still, nothing. The invitation was scheduled for less than an hour. Well, if she wasn’t going to open it, he’d have to get it to her another way. He was done waiting on her and he was done playing with her through a screen.

He wanted the real thing and he knew she wanted it too.

📷

You were still slightly addled from your encounter at the café. After you got home and unpacked your groceries, you didn’t find your coffee again until it went cold. You dumped it and replaced it with a glass of wine. You bought the bottle a month ago, expecting to unwind and that time finally came.

You sat with the healthy dose of alcohol, almost to the brim as it darkened the full belly of the glass. You wore only a baggy Winnie the Pooh tee and panties as you lounged and flipped on the tv. 

You rarely used the front room anymore, ever since your boyfriend moved out you spent most of your time in the bedroom, exhausted and lonely. It was easier to just linger there between responsibilities.

Your dainty sips turned to greedy slurps as you turned on an episode of Project Runway and lost yourself in the competition and drama of it all. Your ex hated that show and you hadn’t watched it in years. It was time to get caught up with what would forever be your unfulfilled dream of being a designer.

By the runway, your glass was empty and the television had a soft glare as you were slightly buzzed by the high potency. The dark blend had a percentage in the double digits and you were feeling it, delightfully so. As the designers came up for their feedback from judges, more so a roast, you leaned back and wiggled your hips as you stretched. You yawned and closed your eyes as you listened to a designer give cutting critique of a hem.

You peeked under your lashes as the camera panned in on the fraying stitches. Well, it looked alright from far away. You bent your arm under your head as you turned onto your side and your eyes closed again as you pondered another glass of wine. That might give you a decent night’s sleep.

You inhaled and sat up, intent on another indulgence but you stopped short as you blinked in shock. You hadn’t drank that much. You couldn’t be hallucinating. You pressed yourself to the back of the couch and shook your head as you gaped at the figure stood just beside the tv, eyes calmly watching you.

“What…” you gulped.

“Shhhh,” the man, the one you watched all those nights on your laptop, brought his finger to his lips as he hushed you, “it’s okay, honey.”

“I--” your heart leapt into your throat and you stood as you swiped up your glass, “get out. How did--”

“I sent you an invitation. Several this week. You haven’t answered--”

You hit the glass off the table so it cracked and left a jagged edge. You jabbed it out at him from the other side of the coffee table, your hand shaking as the shock turned to a jolt of adrenaline.

“Go! Get out!” you snapped, too terrified to think on how he found you or if your meeting that day was truly a coincidence. It didn’t seem like it, “you’re crazy, get out of my--”

He marched around the table as you backed up and swung the glass at him. He caught your wrist and twisted it as he wrenched you close to him and pointed the sharp edge at your throat. The scent of him filled your lungs and mingled with the taste of wine as the glass pressed to your skin.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he warned, “so don’t make me.”

“Please--”

He said your name, calmly, as you drowned in his oceanic eyes. You quivered in his grasp and tensed as you tried to lean away from him, “Andy,” he offered, “that’s my real name.”

“Please, I don’t know what you want--”

“You know exactly what I want,” he hissed as he pulled away the glass and tossed it to shatter against the wall, “the same thing I always wanted… that you want.”

You took a deep breath and he clapped his hand over your mouth and tutted. His brows wrinkled in irritation and your drunken fingers bounced futilely off his shoulder. He turned you and sat you down on the couch and knelt with you, shushing you again as he settled on his knees on the floor.

“Honey, aren’t you tired of this? Of being apart? Of just… watching?” his eyes strayed from yours and he smiled as he eyed the yellow bear on your shirt, “that’s cute.”

You shook your head and murmured against his hand. His lashes flicked up and his jaw squared. His lips thinned as he considered you.

“Thing is, honey, I’d love to talk but you gotta promise not to scream,” he said, “and I mean that because I don’t want to gag you… not yet, anyway.”

Your eyes rounded and you nodded fervently as your breath puffed under his palm. He narrowed his eyes and shifted his hand slightly, moving it just an inch at a time as he watched you. You sniffled as he let his grip fall to your knee.

“Why? How…” you stuttered, “it was a mistake. Just a show--”

“You were always there,” he said as his other hand came up to your other knee and he ran his hands up and down your legs, “it didn’t sound like a mistake.” He pushed his fingers along the top of your thighs, “you enjoyed it.”

“It wasn’t… like that, just…”

He squeezed your thighs painfully and you winced. His fingers crawled up under the hem of your tee to the elastic of your panties and he hooked them beneath the fabric. You grasped his wrists in shock at his sudden movement and he looked you in the face.

“Say whatever you want, make your excuses,” he snarled, “you said you wanted me, you said it a dozen times, and I know you do.”

He tore down the cotton and you flailed out and caught yourself against the back of the couch. He rolled your panties down and untangled them from your ankles as you tried to close your legs. He kept your panties around his wrist as he stopped your knees from meeting and moved between them.

“Honey, now, I think we’ve had enough build up--”

“Hel--” you screamed and he grabbed your chin and snapped your mouth shut so that you bit your tongue.

He growled and shook your panties down over his hand. He brought up the twisted fabric and shoved it into your mouth. You tried to turn away from his grip as he stuffed the panties in with two fingers as deep as they would go and you almost gagged.

“It’s too bad,” he said, “I wanted to try that mouth… next time.”

You batted at his arms and chest and his hand shot to your throat. You stilled as he choked you, just enough for lungs to burn. He kept his hand on your neck until you sat back and he let it trail down the front of your shirt. He groped you through the fabric, rolling his thumb around your nipples as they hardened.

“I know you can be good, honey,” he hummed, “you’re just… nervous. I know what it’s like, trying to get over someone else. Trying to move on from a life you built-- a break-up, right? That lanky guy on your Insta--”

You gave a terrified flutter of your lashes and he smiled, a tight-lipped sympathetic gesture.

“Look, we’re two lonely people,” he kneaded your chest as he spoke and leaned in, “so, it only makes sense, and I promise, honey, the shows are over. It’s all for you now.”

You trembled as he dropped his hands and pulled up your shirt. He tickled your stomach with his knuckles and framed your tits with his hands as he admired them. You squirmed as he flicked them with his thumbs and leaned into you. He took one in his mouth and suckled. You whimpered as you felt a pluck in your core.

He parted with a pop and licked his lips, “I never… it was always hard to think of what you’d look like but I couldn’t picture anyone so perfect.”

Your nails dug into the couch cushions as you tried not to flinch. The glimmer of delight turned to disgust as you watched this stranger fondle you and he sealed his lips around your other nipple. You bit down on the cotton and moaned. You were so pathetic. It was your stupid moments of lonely desperation that brought you to this, that brought him to you.

His large hands spread along your sides and he pressed his fingertips into you sharply as he toyed with your nipples. He grazed his teeth along each bud and pulled back to look at you again. You grasped his shoulders as you begged him with your eyes and shook your head.

“I… always wanted to do this in the bedroom,” he said, “that’s where you usually are, huh? Touching yourself for me all alone in the dark--”

You hung your head in defeat and he pulled you forward on the cushion. He lifted you onto your feet and spun you around in the space between him and the couch. He put one hand on your hip and the other on the back of your neck and walked you around the sofa. He paced slowly behind you as he urged you down the hall and paused to peer through your bedroom door.

“Here we are,” he said as he angled you through the door. You reached up as your jaw ached around the wad of fabric and he caught your hand and yanked it down, “I didn’t say you could do that.”

You dropped your arm and he let you go. He pressed his body to your back as he nudged you closer to the bed and stopped you right before it. He bunched your shirt in his hands and tugged it up until you raised your arms. He swiped it over your head and let it crumple beside your feet.

“Go on, sit nice and pretty for me,” he tapped your ass lightly.

Naked, you shivered as you stepped away from him and got onto the bed. You turned as you bent your legs over the edge and lowered your chin. You hugged yourself as he stood watching you with his hands on his belt.

“Don’t you worry, it’s still a show,” he said as his hands slid over to his buckle. 

He winked and ran his fingers up the front of his jacket and pulled it off. He draped it over the folding stool by your bookshelf and bent each leg to tug off his shoes. His socks followed shortly after and he squared his shoulders before he scooped his shirt up and off. He returned to his buckle and tilted his head at you.

“Look at me, honey,” he said as you stared at the pile of clothing, “we both know you love to watch.”

You raised your eyes to him and clamped your hands around your shoulders, arms crossed over your chest. He grinned and unbuckled his belt, his zipper gliding down smoothly beneath his fingers.

“You got me hard as fuck,” he said, “I didn’t like that earlier, you know? The way you ran from me.”

You just sat and tried to swallow the hopeless acceptance. He pushed down his pants and stepped out of them, his arousal bulging against his boxers. Your fingernails cut into your skin as you curled your fingers.

“You’ve been so good to me, honey,” he continued as he rolled down his boxers, “you know, I only want to return the favour. I came all this way just to get close so that--” he paused as his dick sprang up before him and he kicked away his underwear, “I can take care of you now.”

He gripped himself and stroked his length with a hum. His stomach tensed and the lines of his muscles deepened as he groaned and played with himself as he would before the camera. You were mortified as you watched him helplessly and he got closer and closer.

“Now you get the live show, honey,” he reached out and took your hand, closing it around his dick as he guided it up and down.

He moaned and hung his head back as he used both your hands on his shaft. He shuddered and leaned into your grasp. You listened to his pants as they grew quicker and quicker and he stopped you abruptly. You looked down at the glistening pre-cum as it leaked from his tip and he trailed his thumb through it as he let you go.

You flinched as he moved towards you suddenly and grabbed your hips. He lifted you and dropped you onto your back. He took your ankles and placed them against his shoulders as he stretched your legs up his torso. His cock slid along your cunt and hovered over your folds.

“Fuck, I can’t wait any longer,” he bit his lips and looked between your legs as he let go of one leg and reached down to guide himself between your lips, “oh, honey, your so sexy.”

He pushed apart your cunt with two fingers and slid in between his knuckles. He gasped as you stretched around him and you pushed your head back and whined around the fabric in your mouth. You whimpered as he drew back just a little and pushed in deeper. He rocked his hips, getting further each time as your walls strained around him.

He tilted you against him so that he reached his limit and slid his thumb along your bud. He swirled around your clit as he carried a slow motion, gliding in and out of you as you slicked around him. The tingle of his touch crept like tendrils beneath your flesh and made you clench around his dick.

He groaned and sped up, just a little as he played with you, pressing more firmly on your clit until your hand shot down over his. You didn’t move him away, only gripped his wrist as he toyed with you, fucking you deliberately as the sensation melded into a maelstrom. The twisting spring inside of you compressed and released suddenly in a ripple of sheer delight.

You groaned and bent your legs against him, raising your pelvis higher so he dipped even deeper. Your eyes rolled back and you ripped the panties from your mouth in your ecstatic trance. You balled them in your hand and writhed on his dick. 

He grasped your hips and dragged your ass over the edge of the bed and rammed into you. You cried out and he did it again. It was as if he lost all control as his pelvis slapped against you loudly and his voice rumbled through the room. You gulped and gasped as he pressed the heel of his hand to your clit and rubbed harder, his fingers stabbing sharply against your flesh.

His other hand snaked up to pinch your nipple and cup your tit. He braced you as he bent over you and fucked you furiously. He stepped up onto the edge of the bed frame as he curled your body beneath his and brought both his hands up beside your head as he held himself over you.

He plunged down into you over and over and he huffed as he watched the joining of your bodies. He growled and pulled out of you suddenly, bending your legs up as you were contorted further. He grabbed your hand again and trapped it around his dick, moving it quickly as he muttered.

He came in thick ropes onto your chest and down the folds of your stomach as you were in almost a C beneath him, his knees around your thighs. You shook and lifted his chin as he snarled and kept your hand moving, still cumming over you. He tore your grasp from him as he grew over sensitive and hung his head as he quivered.

“Shit,” he swore as he backed off of you and stood, leaning on the bed to steady himself. Your legs fell over the edge and his cum cooled across your skin, “you look good like that, honey.”

He stepped closer and pushed his fingers through the mess. You shivered and stopped his hand as you slowly returned to reality. You lifted yourself on one elbow and batted your lashes in confusion.

“How did you even find me?” you uttered.

“Doesn’t matter how,” he grabbed your wrist and pulled you to sit up gruffly, “only that I did.”

[reidgraygubler]

caught in the nets (spencer reid/reader)

Title: caught in the nets

Requested: no

Couple: spencer reid/fem!reader

Category: smut, fluff

Content Warning: SEXUAL CONTENT (penetrive sex, unsafe sex, public sex (public bathroom), fingering, handjob, grinding, groping, heavy petting, fucking with fishnets on, tipsy sex, possessive), hand on jaw/neck (no pressure), swearing, drinking, mentions of a gun, mentions of casework, friends to lovers

Word Count: 3,944

Summary: Spencer loves what reader is wearing while out at a bar with the team

A/N: hi guys, gals, and non-binary pals! Here’s another thing i wrote. this is another thing I was super excited to write. AND I wrote it for one of my bestest friends @spencer-reid-in-a-pool for pom’s server fic swap. I wrote it in literally two days bc I had a week to write it. But it does have a prompt and a few other things she likes in it! also quick shout out to @newportonmymind for proofreading this!! i really appreciate you! I really hope you guys enjoy this piece! Thank you all so much for the love and support! I appreciate it and you! Check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

Rough cases will always be the worst. Sometimes they felt hopeless, like we weren’t able to figure out how to save a victim. In the end we were able to save the victim and arrest the unsub. But it was still rough.

So drinks were a must when it came to the end of rough cases. I know it’s a bad thing to turn to drinking in a rough time. But sometimes nothing helped more than a drink. It was easier to relax with a little liquor in your system. Well, it was easier for me to relax with a little liquor. I couldn’t say about the rest of the team.

I was the one who offered up the idea of going to a bar when we returned home. I just needed a little something to help me unwind. Luke, Penelope and Tara were the next to say they’d be coming. After some light convincing, Emily, JJ, and Matt agreed. David was quick to leave before we could get to him about it.

Which left Spencer. At first he put up a fight, arguing that he had to go home. Home to what? We have the same situation. Eventually Penelope wore him down and got him to go.

“Okay, I’ll meet you guys there. I need to change out of these clothes.” I looked down at the business attire I had worn on the plane. I really wished I had changed out of them too, and into something more comfortable.

“Sounds good, Sweetness! See you in a bit.” Penelope looked at me with a smile. I returned the smile before collecting my things from my desk, and leaving.

Part of me wanted to wear a sweatshirt and sweatpants. But I also wanted to wear jeans and a tee-shirt, just to be comfortable. I also wanted to wear something more… party like. Mostly because we’re going to a bar, where there were going to be lots of people. Mmm…

I went with the latter. My outfit ended up consisting of a plain black top, paired with short-shorts and a “comfortable” pair of heels. Under the shorts I wore one of my favorite clothing items, a pair of black fishnets. They were one of my favorite things because I always gained the attention of someone. And I usually enjoyed that attention. I just don’t know whose attention I wanted.

Once I was satisfied with how I looked, I grabbed my bag and left for the bar. I was the first to leave the BAU, but the last to show up to the bar. Even Spencer was there before me, which was a rarity.

“Hey sorry I’m late. Traffic was nuts… And I just wanted to look nice,” I laughed nervously as I looked down before sitting beside Penelope. Everyone’s eyes were on me, and I tried to avoid the feeling of the stares. At first I tried to not be self-conscious, after all I was the one who wanted to dress a little more… sexy and get the attention of others.

“What are you wearing?” Luke asked after he took a sip of his beer. I looked down at my attire and shrugged.

“Wanted someone’s attention. Figured I’d get it here.” I gestured around the room towards the many groups of people. “Already got yours, Lukey-poo,” I cooed as I looked at him. He looked back at me with a weird look in his eyes. “Where’s Spence?”

“He went to get a drink.” JJ nodded towards the bar before sipping her drink. I looked over my shoulder and towards the bar. My eyes quickly identified the lanky and awkward body of Spencer standing beside the bar as he waited for a drink.

“Has the bartender been flirting with him the whole time?” I looked back at the team with wide eyes. Tara looked over at JJ with a smug smile before nodding. “No ones gonna save him?” “Figured we’d give him a try first.” Matt shrugged as he looked back at me. I let out a mildly annoyed sigh before standing up.

“Where are you going?” Emily asked as she looked at me. I smiled as her eyes very slowly lingered down my body. There was an obvious struggle, and I liked that. I was definitely getting the attention I craved tonight. Even though it’s from my superior.

“Gonna go save boy wonder from inevitable embarrassment that he will probably succumb to.” I rested my hand on the table as I looked at the team. JJ and Emily shared a knowing glance. “And I’m getting myself a drink.” I shrugged before shoving my hands in my small pockets and walked towards the bar and Spencer.

“Hey Spence!” I exclaimed as I looked at him. He looked away from the bartender and smiled. His smile, however, quickly melted away and a hungry look took over his eyes.

“H-hey,” he mumbled before looking back at the bartender. She looked between me and Spencer before muttering a few profanities and walking away. I smirked before taking the space up beside Spencer.

“You seeing something you like, Reid?” I asked as soon as I noticed him staring at me again. I leaned over the bar beside him and smiled.

“I.. Uh, I…” He cleared his throat before looking away from me and down at the counter. Well, maybe I did know whose attention I wanted…

“Anyways, I’ve come to save you.”

“Save me?”

“The bartender…” I whispered before nodding in her direction. Spencer looked down at her and we both caught her looking between us before dropping her gaze.

“The bartender?”

“Just get your drink and come on,” I laughed before standing up and away from the counter. Spencer looked back at me with a raised eyebrow. He was obviously confused as to what I was talking about. But I’ll honestly save him the embarrassment. “Oh, wait. I want a drink too!” I exclaimed as I leaned over the counter.

Once we both had our drinks, I silently led him back to the table. I enjoyed the feeling of people’s eyes on me as I walked by them. I could even sense Spencer staring at me. To be fair, my shorts were a little on the shorter side…

Maybe the attention I was getting was from the person I wanted it from the most��

Spencer and I returned to the table, and we were quick to join into whatever conversation they were having. The entertaining stories that Matt told about his kids made everyone go into a fit of laughter.

The laughter only grew the more drinks that everyone had consumed. We weren’t exactly drunk, well some of us weren’t drunk. But when someone in the bar orders a round of drinks for the table, it’s hard to say no.

JJ, Spencer and Matt were the only ‘mostly sober’ ones. Followed by Tara and me being tipsy, but sober enough to know what was happening. Penelope, Luke and Emily had enough to drink and had left the table to go dance with each other and random people in the bar.

“I wanna dance,” I muttered as I looked down at the table. Matt cleared his throat, causing me to look up at him. He was nodding a Spencer, who was looking around the room at all the other people. A small smile grew across my lips before I jumped from my seat. Spencer and JJ both looked at me with shock on their faces.

I looked right at Spencer and smiled. “You.” I pointed at him. “Me.” Then I pointed at myself. “We’re dancing,” I spoke as I jerked my thumb behind me. Spencer’s face fell slightly as he watched me walk to stand in front of him. I smiled as his eyes lingered on my body for a brief moment before landing on my face. “Come on. Let’s leave mom and dad alone.” I lifted a hand for him to take. He looked at it for a moment before hesitantly placing his hand into mine.

Once he stood, I dragged him over to the dance floor, where we both stood still. I didn’t know what was going through his head, but I wished I did. His body wasn’t tense, in fact I could tell he liked that I was being daring and the close proximity I was in.

We, and by we I mean me, hardly danced. It was mostly just me. And my dance moves consisted of me grinding on him. Which seemed to rile him up enough to entertain me. I enjoyed it more when he rested his hands on my hips and held me in front of him.

I looked around the room at all the people, watching as they continued dancing with their friends and people. Then I looked back at Spencer before grabbing his hand. His once hazel eyes were blown out black and a look of hunger and lust was settled in them. He looked like he knew what he wanted, and he was about to do anything in his power to get it too.

I looked away from him and around the room, again, looking for a familiar face. It wasn’t that I needed someone to save me from this moment. No. I needed to make sure none of our friends saw what I was about to do next.

I turned to face Spencer again and pressed my chest to his. He placed his hands on my hips and pulled them flush against his. The breath was knocked from my lungs when I felt how hard he was through his slacks and my shorts.

I grabbed his wrist and turned away from him before dragging him out of the bar and towards the bathrooms. He didn’t say anything when I pulled him into the women’s bathroom and into a stall. I’ll forever be grateful for that too because I don’t know where else we would go to.

I pulled him into a stall and locked it before pushing him against the door. His lips quickly attached to mine, and before I knew it his teeth grazed across my lower lip. And just like before, when we were out in the bar, his hands fell back to my hips and he pulled me against him. He rolled his hips to mine, pressing his bulge into my body.

“I can’t believe you,” Spencer groaned against my mouth. I looked up at him and smirked. “Why’s that? What makes me so unbelievable?” I whispered as I pressed a hand to his front. Spencer’s body froze and a hiss came from his lips.

“You coming to this bar, dressed like that, acting like you own the place,” his voice was low as he spoke. I smiled before I looked for his belt. “Acting like you aren’t arousing every man-- and woman-- here. That’s right, I saw the way Emily looked at you,” he continued as he looked at me.

“I just wanted attention from someone. But I’m sure happy that it’s your attention that I’m getting, Spencer,” I whispered before I pressed my hips against his.

“Well… I don’t think you’ll be getting attention from anyone else other than mine from now on.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re mine now, Sweetness,” he mildly mocked the pet name Penelope had given me earlier today. I stared at him, my breathing growing shallow. “And no one else’s.” Goosebumps grew like fire across my skin once I realized the honesty and reality of his words. Or, well, I should say his possessiveness. At first I wasn’t sure if I wanted or believed what he said, but a moment passed and I realized… I wanted it so bad.

We both fell into a silent stare down. My hands, however, kept busy as they looked for his belt. But then a smirk grew across my lips the second I realized he still had a hard on waiting for me.

I was quick as I tried undoing his belt buckle, hoping he wouldn’t notice. But he obviously did when I began struggling and fumbling for a moment.

“Is that a gun or are you just happy to see me, Reid?” I whispered as I carefully slipped my hand into his pants and briefs. My question was otherwise rhetorical. I knew for a fact it was a gun. But I also knew it wasn’t a gun.

Spencer took a deep breath of air once my hand was wrapped around his length. I smiled as I slowly moved my hand back and forth, gently applying pressure.

“It’s a gun,” Spencer returned, keeping his voice low, “But I’m more than happy to see you. Trust me.” I could tell he was trying to be sly with his words. Because when he started talking his voice was deep and a little rough, but as he continued on talking, they got a little shaky and a little bit higher. I wanted to mock him, but I knew better than to do that.

“Oh… I do,” I whispered as I quickened my pace. My lips were hovering over his. His breath fanned across my face, and I could just barely smell the gin and tonic he had drank earlier.

My heart was beating hard in my chest because I was about to fuck my co-worker in the bathroom at fucking bar. I wondered if his was doing the same thing. I wondered if his thought process was the same as mine too.

I also wondered if he felt the same way. Maybe I’ve always wanted the attention from Spencer. He was right there, and always has been, and always will be. Plus we’ve known each other for years. So what’s the harm? Maybe he felt the same?

The grip Spencer held on my hips started to tighten as I continued to stroke his length. I could feel his tension growing the longer I went. My lips slowly curled at the corners as I realized how much I was going to enjoy this.

Then it happened. Spencer flipped our positions so I was pressed against the door. Both of my wrists were in one of his hands, held above my head. His other hand was already messing with the button of my shorts.

“You think you’re the only one who can do that, Sweetness,” he whispered before pressing his lips to my neck. It was his turn to grind his hips against mine, easily taking my breath away again.

“Spence…” I gasped once his hand was finally down the front of my shorts. I tried hard to pull my hands from his hand, but his grip only tightened.

“See, two can play at this game,” he spoke softly as he swiped a finger up my slit. I bit my lips together as he gently moved his finger around the sensitive nub between my thighs. “But unlike you I’m going to let you finish.”

“I was go-oh…” I whimpered as my knees buckled down causing my hips to grind on his hand. He smiled before carefully pushing a finger into my entrance. It was suddenly hard to concentrate as he curled his fingers just right.

“That’s what I thought,” Spencer murmured against my ear before moving his mouth to the corner of my mouth, then to my neck. A small moan fell from my mouth as he sucked a spot onto the base of my neck.

I stayed silent as Spencer continued whispering dirty things in my ear. Part of me almost forgot who I was with. Not because of what was happening, but because of what he was saying. I had no clue Spencer could say such dirty things. My train of thought was all over the place, derailing the moment I would gain a coherent thought.

Once I did eventually finish on his fingers, he pulled his hand from my shorts and looked down at me. It was a silent moment of a stare down. I was quiet because I was sure of what was about to happen. I was about to fuck Spencer Reid. I was willing to bet Spencer was calculating how long the events of everything would take. I didn’t care, I just wanted it and I wanted it now.

I broke the stare down, looking down at his slacks and the bulge that was still pressing against the fabric. I silently undid the button and zipper and pushed his pants down.

Spencer stopped me before I could do anything else. I looked up at him, my eyes staying on his face as he pushed down my shorts. Then it happened. I was expecting sex to happen like normal. Half naked.

I furrowed my eyebrows when he started getting ready. My tights were still on me properly. He didn’t forget. Man has the best mind in the world. He wouldn’t forget about my tights.

“Wait,” I whispered as I went to pull my tights off, but Spencer stopped me. His hand wrapped around my wrist before he pulled it away. “I gotta take my tights off if we-Oh…”I looked up at him with wide eyes once I realized what he wanted.

“Keep them on,” he whispered so softly I almost didn’t hear him. I nodded lightly. Truth be told, I could see the appeal in it. I did wear the fishnets for a reason. And I knew how I looked in them.

“I can do that.”

Spencer hoisted one of my legs around his waist and pressed my body against the wall. I stared at him, my arms wrapped around his neck to keep me up right. He also helped keep me up by keeping his hands on my hips. Once I was steady, Spencer ripped a hole in the crotch of my tights.

My teeth bit down on my lower lip as he dragged the head of his cock down my pussy. I almost couldn’t handle the way he teased my entrance. I wondered if he could see how frustrated I was starting to get. He’s a profiler. He should just know already how much I needed this.

“I swear to-” ‘God, Spencer.’ My words were cut off with a moan as he pressed into me all at once. It was hard to keep my head up right, and I fought for a moment before finally dropping it to rest on his shoulder. I brought my hand to my mouth and bit down.

Spencer moved a hand around to rest on my bottom. My mouth fell as his hand began massaging my flesh. That, paired with the way he began moving his hips started becoming too much for me.

He looked down at me, sweat beginning to mat down his hair to his forehead. His eyebrows were furrowed together as he picked up his pace. My leg around his waist pulled him closer to me.

“Don’t stop, please, please don’t stop,” I whined as he finally moved closer to me. My body began moving up and down the door. The cloth of my tank top had started riding up, and my hot skin was instantly touching the cool steel door.

Spencer lifted a hand to my head, placing it on the backside before pulling my face to his. His lips pressed everywhere on my face, not one spot was ignored. I pulled my hands away from his neck and grasped his shirt and tie, keeping him in his spot.

“You could’ve worn anything and I still would have wanted to fuck you. Sweatpants and oversized tee-shirt, that pencil skirt you wore back in Oklahoma… But the fishnets really do take the cake.”

“I-I knew someone would like them.” I tried to keep my voice steady. But it was so hard when pressure began growing in my stomach and between my legs.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this? You here, looking like this,” his voice was almost a growl. My chest began heaving with each word he said and each movement he made. “Too damn long, that’s how long.”

Spencer removed his hand from the back of my head and dropped it to between my legs, resting it high on my thigh. His thumb moved back and forth on my leg, over the material of the fishnets. The look in his eyes drove me wild, and I loved it so, so much.

“Better me than anyone else. I’m not willing to share.” Spencer actually growled as he moved his finger to the crest of my legs. He smiled when I looked up at him with a mildly panicked look in my eyes. “Do you understand why, Sweetness?”

“N-no.”

“As I told you earlier, you’re mine,” he struggled as he tried to hold back a moan.

“Fuck,” I cried as my head dropped back down to his shoulder. I pressed a hand to the wall beside me. I gasped for air as the pressure in my stomach grew to the point of exploding.

“Only I can make you feel like this. You got that, Sweetness?” Spencer groaned, which quickly caused me to nod.

It was impossible to stay quiet as the pressure built up more. The situation was pushed more as soon as Spencer started moaning more into my ear. It was so overwhelming the second he said my name.

And then it happened. I finished before him. But it wasn’t too long after that a familiar warmth spread throughout me.

Spencer dropped his head to my shoulder, and we were both left in panting, breathless messes. My eyes were stuck open as I tried recollecting myself.

“I waited a long time for that too, Spencer,” I whispered, breaking the silence after a few minutes passed. He laughed and nodded.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Of course you do.” I shook my head and pushed his body off mine. He looked down at me with a smirk. “What… What does this mean?”

“Could mean anything. We let things happen naturally, or we pretend nothing happened at all. I’d prefer the former, if I’m going to be honest with you.” He gently lifted a hand and rested it on my face. My nose twitched as soon as I felt something rolling down my thigh. Then my eyes widened.

“N-naturally… Yeah,” I whispered, mostly to myself, as I reached for a wad of toilet paper. I quickly cleaned up the mess that was between my legs and shook my head.

“We should go. Get you properly cleaned.” Spencer spoke up once I was done cleaning myself a bit.

“Well now we gotta go out there and pretend like nothing happened,” I whispered as I looked up at him. Spencer shrugged like it was no big deal. “Where did this sudden cockines come from?”

“When I realized you could have any guy in the bar… And you chose me.” He smiled before wrapping an arm around my waist. I widened my eyes as we exited the bathroom and entered the crowd of people together. People stared at us as we walked by, but I couldn’t tell if it was both of us they were staring at or just me. Spencer’s grip around my waist tightened as he pulled me closer to him. “Remember, Sweetness… I don’t like sharing what’s mine,” his voice was low. My body stiffened once the reality of his words hit me. His.

“Where were you guys?” Emily looked between Spencer and I. I looked at her with wide eyes, my expression telling her (and the rest of the team) everything they needed to know. I’m sure I looked like a hot fucking mess.

“Sweetness here was outside not feeling too well. So I brought her to the bathroom and helped her out a little bit,” Spencer lied with a smile.

Even he knew the lie was useless. But I think everyone would rather believe the obvious lie than rather just know the truth. To be fair, I’d rather tell them all a useless lie rather than the truth. “She still doesn’t feel too well. So I’m going to take her home.”

“Oh! Bummer! I hope you feel better!” Penelope was the first to speak up. I was thankful too that she played along because I really couldn’t handle that embarrassment…

“I will.. Hopefully by morning… I’ve got the best doctor I know taking care of me.” I smiled softly as I looked up at Spencer. He glanced back at me with a smile.

“Have a nice rest of the night.” Spencer nodded to the team before guiding me away from the table and towards the front doors.

“My place or yours?” I looked back at him once we were finally outside and walking towards his car.

“Mine.”

if you want to be a part of a taglist (lmk if ur 18+ for smut) or have any comments about this one-shot, let me know here

taglist: @thebluetint​ @muffin-cup​ @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto​ @spencersmagic @90spumkin​ @jareids​ @broken-stardust​

[keilemlucent]

take care of me

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~4.4k

beta’ed: @hawnks

keigo is perfectly happy to help you forget a stressful day

warnings: daddy kink (no age play), spanking, aftercare, praise kink, self indulgent smut, spit kink <333333, bdsm, masochist reader 

...

self indulgent..... caregiver dom keigo? we knew it was coming. enjoy loves <333

||||||||||||||||||||||

You ached all over.

The mental exhaustion of the day was far more grating than the physical, but the dull throb of your tired muscles was impossible to ignore, even when you were only half-conscious on the couch. 

You were put out. 

You’d been burrowed under a pile of blankets since you’d stumbled into the penthouse after work, curling up without even bothering to take off your shoes.

Night had fallen, the apartment cold, silent and still. Normally, you might’ve whipped up some dinner or showered, maybe done something productive.

But not that night.

You’d held yourself together through the day. Each angry word and sneer you faced was handled with a smile, despite how you were cracking inside. You even managed to keep an even expression when your scalding morning coffee was splattered over your shirt, almost burning you.

Well, you weren’t sure if it hadn’t. You hadn’t checked, considering you were still wearing the stained garment. Maybe, the skin of your stomach was as inflamed and puckered as it felt.

Maybe that was just your mood.

...

You hardly stirred when the balcony door of the apartment slid open and then shut, Keigo’s ruffling and booted footsteps echoing across over the apartment.

Your eyes stay half-lidded and hazy when Keigo rounds the couch, eyes softening as he notices your cocoon of blankets.

“Hey, dove,” Dropping to his knees neck to the couch, he cups the side of your cheek in a gloved hand, “Feeling a bit tired?”

You nodded, lips still sealed.

There was nothing in you to give, just the slow simmering of exhaustion and sadness that you couldn’t escape.

Keigo’s gaze softened, gold and far-too pretty in the dim light of the living room, “Bad day?”

“Y-yeah.”

Your voice cracked when you spoke, the words going grainy as your chest tightened.

As you sniffled, burying your face into the blankets as unwelcome tears stung at the corners of your eyes.

Very bad day.

He shed his jacket and gloves, tossing them to the side without a care. Keigo coaxed you to rise, only enough for him to slip into the blankets, laying underneath you to pull your head to his chest.

“I’ve gotcha’, dove,” He hummed, pressing kiss after kiss into your hair. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

You didn’t respond, only bit your lip and buried your face into his chest.

Keigo had just arrived home after a long day, and the last thing you wanted was to be a chore to deal with consider how fucking trashed you felt. The idea of being a burden— 

His voice shocked you from your thoughts. 

“Do you want daddy to take care of it?” 

His words and all of their insinuations washed over you.

You knew Keigo had no issues taking that role— fuck, he confided in you many, many times that he loved being able to take care of you in any and all ways. 

Giving it a name, an identity, made him purr with pride. 

You swallowed, the idea curling your head. Catharsis by Keigo’s hand sounded fucking fantastic in the most gut-rotting way.

You nodded.

Keigo smiled against your hair, his own insides twisting. He’d had his own day of annoyance and had been more than ready and willing to come home to you and blow off some steam, but if this was what you needed, he was more than willing to provide and have a fantastic time doing it. 

Keigo hummed, smoothing his hands up your sides. “So what are you feeling?” He knew you wouldn’t be great at giving anything other than ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answers, but he could try and coax a bit more out of you. 

Options.

“I could start off slow, just how you like,” His voice curled over your ear with a nip as he slid his thumbs beneath your waistband. “Let you rut on my thigh like the cute little dove you are. If you’re good, maybe you could suck daddy’s cock while I lick your pussy clean.”

You buried your face in his neck, a high whine echoing from the back of your throat.

Keigo felt his cock twitch, wings stirring from their crunched position.

“Or, I could knot your wrist tight, give them those nice, pretty burns, tie you to the bottom of the couch and fuck you into the floor.”

You buried yourself deeper, all of the ideas in your head were alluring, but not quite right.

A kinder option was also a good idea. 

“Or, I could hold you nice and tight like this for a while. Maybe take a bath, use that new massage oil we ordered, rub you down until all of that tension is pulled out by my hands.”

The pads of Keigo’s fingers rolled into the knots in your shoulders, some of the stress dripping away with the preview of his words. 

It took the softness to realize what you really needed:

“I want it to hurt.”

Oh, and fuck, you wanted it to so bad.

You wanted to be fucked up and used so bad you could barely move. Fucked stupid, so all of the nasty thoughts of the day would melt away. 

Keigo practically rumbled beneath you, his wings flexing and puffing up against your back, just inches from your face.

He wanted it— no, needed it, just as bad as you. 

He took a few deep breaths beneath you, his hand wandering to settle with a bruising grip at the fat above your waist.

“Gimme your taps,” Keigo nuzzled against your cheek.

“One tap is that I’m good, two taps is slow down, three taps is stop, four taps is that I’m having trouble talking.”

It was an easy system, one you and Keigo had adapted to suit your needs and the often merciless ways he’d lay you to ruin. 

“Perfect, dove, god,” Keigo sang his words like sweet prayers. Slowly, he sat up, still holding you tight to his chest. “You go wash up quick in the bedroom, I’ll get myself all settled and ready. Wear whatever you’d like and shout if you need me, okay?”

You swallowed, gut turning.

“O-Okay, I love you.

“I love you too, so fucking much.”

...

You took a few minutes in the bathroom to ground yourself. You still felt like shit, but in the way that now craved something different and more carnal to get it to fall away and release.

You trusted Keigo with everything in you. He knew how to pick you apart just the way you needed. 

You wandered back into the living room, padding in quietly in a pair of fluffy socks, an oversized tee that hung just below your ass, and a pair of shorts that showed the barest bits of your cheeks.

Keigo was in the kitchen, the hilt of the knife clicking against the metal of the rings he wore as he chopped up a few of your favorite fruits and placed them into a wooden bowl.

He’d changed as well, looking sharper and much more like the ‘daddy Keigo’ that you knew. His black pants were sharp and perfectly fitted, along with the black mock neck he wore. He accessorized with a few rings on each hand and a chain necklace laying over his collarbones.

Keigo’s eyes flickered up to you as you regarded him, a little grin beginning to grow.

“Seems I overdressed.” His wings flared behind him, unable to hide his excitement the same way his face was. 

“I-I can change—” 

“Absolutely not,” Keigo slid around the kitchen island, tsking quietly. “You’re perfect, just like this.”

You didn’t reply, not until Keigo stopped in front of your and grabbed your jaw, pulling your gaze to him.

“Sweetness,” His affections rolled over your skull in the exact way you needed. “Do you want me to take care of you?”

“P-Please.”

The word was desperate, shaking and shuddering as it slipped from lips.

Keigo’s smile grows wider, his plumage ruffling.

“Sweet girl, try again.”

Your lip wobbled as he stroked down at your pulse point. 

“Please, d-daddy.”

What a role to have.

Keigo loved it, notably.

It had started early, that incessant itch to care for you in any way that he could was semi-insatiable until he started to indulge it to his heart's content. You thrived off it too, needing that personal attention that he was so willing to give. And hell, it wasn’t like you didn’t return it constantly with endless love and sweetness.

He just took care of you. 

The details, all the small things he’d gathered about since you’d gotten together (and before then too) were things he cherished. Little things about you he wasn’t even sure you noticed, he collected them and accommodated them in any way he could. 

There was the more mundane, like your favorite smells and tastes and touches. The knowledge of the best textures of clothes and blankets that he loved to gift you and your favorite spices and sweets were coveted. 

There was the more intimate, too.

He had taken breaking you apart with pleasure as a divine rite, that first time he got you on the silken sheets of his bed. Learning every twitch and shudder and what it meant felt like his life’s goal as he buried his face in your cunt.

You liked it all, notably. 

You thrived off the attention, though it took a while for you to accept that ‘yes, you do indeed deserve this, very much so.’ 

Once more, you returned it. Perhaps you weren’t quite as perceptive as Keigo was, you didn’t have the training (thank god), but you did constantly return love to him. Your own touch and kind words more comforting than anything he’d ever received in his fucking life.

He could only return the favor by taking care of you in any way that you needed.

And that night?

You needed to hurt. 

And Keigo, truthfully, was in the mood to get a bit of tied up anger out in the sweetest way possible. 

...

Keigo drifted to the couch, your hand in his with you in tow. You were so meek that day, eyes downcast.

He’d have to be careful, watch your body and expressions and not push you too far. He trusted you to call things off, but he still never hurt you beyond what you could handle.

Besides, Keigo had crafted a wonderful plan that he was fairly (very) certain you would enjoy.

Keigo sat down on the couch, thighs parted the slightest bit, a half-chub already pressing against his trouser.

“Lie down, dove,” He kept his voice so sweet as he tapped his thigh. “Let me help you.”

You scrunched your shirt in your hands, mind beginning to get pleasantly hazy with his words and you laid yourself over his lap. You adjusted with your arms cushioning your head, knees pressed against the cushion. 

“Talk to me, sweetness— What’s going on?” Keigo spoke as he nudged your hips upwards, your back bowing and arching under his touch.

 “Just a bad day,” You swallowed, burying your face into the cushions. “I don’t want to think about it.”

Your head was already swimming, you didn’t want to mentally relive how awful the day had been— 

“Then let’s make it good, hm?” Keigo mused, cupping your ass through your shorts and squeezing. “Make you forget in your favorite way. I know how much you like this.”

You tried to speak, but your jaw snapped shut with a click and a cry as Keigo’s palm smacked over the fat of your ass.

“You just need a little bit of extra help today, hm?” Keigo smoothed his hand over where he had struck. The motion was tender in the same way his words were, washing over you enough to almost distract from the pain that was just beginning. 

“Uh-huh,” You replied, weak and muffled into the fabric beneath you.

Another strike sent you pressing into the cushions, whining against upholstery as Keigo rubbed over your skin was against, his other hand going to stabilize your back, tracing his name and little hearts over your spine. 

“‘Uh-huh’, who?” 

“Daddy!” You screamed with the next strike. Your words melded with the echo of the sounds of your flesh.

Keigo was beaming at you, you could feel it. His wings were puffed up, rippling in time with heavy breathing.

“Good girl, god, dove, perfect,” He leaned down to press a kiss to the back of your head while smoothing a hand beneath your shorts. “You’re just so good. You deserve so much good, you know that?”

You nodded as Keigo shucked your shorts to the ground, pushing up your shirt to leave most of you bare to him.

It felt vulnerable, despite having been in this position before. 

“I d-do,” You stuttered, words sticky. “I am good.”

It felt real, for a moment, brightened by the sharp pain that was growing constant from your cheeks.

“God, perfect,” Keigo waxed, grabbing a handful of your ass and squeezing. “Here’s what you’re gonna do sweetness— here’s how I’m gonna take care of you today.”

His hand slid between your clenched thighs, pushing them apart and barely teasing your slit, “You’re gonna hurt for me, so fucking good. I’m gonna give you... twenty-five, how does that sound?”

You nodded, an answer Keigo accepted.

“Good,” You could hear his grin. “You’re gonna take each one so well, I know you will, dove.”

The expectation hurt so bad you winced. 

Keigo hushed you with a hand to the back of your neck, “It’s alright, I’ll be right here. Just want to break you a little bit, hm?”

You whined this time, shifting your thighs together as Keigo chuckled. 

“Maybe a lot, but we’ll see. I don’t want you thinking after this.”

Holy fuck, neither did you. You’d be content to be close to braindead when Keigo was through with you. 

Any reply you had was just a warbled moan into the cushion below as Keigo slapped his hand down once more.

“Count, sweetness.”

“O-one.”

Another smack, to the other cheek, flesh growing hot. 

“T-two— “

And Keigo didn’t fucking relent.

Each smack was hard, the fat of your ass jiggling and burning against the flat of his palm. The knick of his rings against the soft flesh only added to burn and sting. 

Perhaps, in other conditions, Keigo would have built up to the level of pain he was providing. Preamble a bit with some softer touches and sweet words as opposed to relentlessly spanking your ass so hard you swore you could already feel welts forming from the rings he wore.

“T-t— Ten!” 

Your voice cracked in your throat, each impact bringing up sprinklings of tears that were rubbed into the couch. 

All the harshness of his strikes was in harmony with the sinfully soft way he was touching you otherwise.

A gentle hand running through your hair, mindful of any knots or tangles. His fingertips stroked up and down your neck, nails teasing the thin skin just below your ear. Even the way he rubbed at your flesh between strikes was so fucking tender, despite how his touch made the hot skin boil even more.

Your first muffled sob was what got him going verbally.

“Oh, wow,” Keigo whistled to himself, a sharp-nailed finger running up your spine. “Are you crying already, sweetness? Does this hurt too bad?”

“N-no,” You forced the words out, even as they clung to the back of your tongue. 

The confusing feelings and emotions thrumming through you made you want to just let go. The tears mixed with the loving fullness in your chest, all counterpointed by hot pain that was ripping through your nerves from the bruises and singed skin from your ongoing spanking. 

Not to mention the slick coating your thighs— 

“Seems not,” Keigo clicked his tongue, pausing to run a finger over your slit. “Still dripping for me, even when I’m touching you like this?”

He spanked you again, right over a pre-existing welt.

You sputtered in the cushions, almost sobbing but still trying to hold onto a semblance of your composure.

Keigo could see it in the rigidity of your shoulders. No matter how he pressed into the muscles in time with the strikes he dealt, you just wouldn’t loosen up.

You shook against the cushions below, exertion from holding your arched back clear.

Keigo hummed to himself.

You said you wanted it to hurt, right?

And God, if he wasn’t going to deliver. 

In a flurry of motion, Keigo shifted, bringing you with him.

Your cheek remained against the leather of the couch, blood rushing to your head as your ass was thrown up and over the armrest. 

Keigo stood up, wings unrestrained and extended. You couldn’t see the angry, red plumage, only the shadow it threw over you.

“Oh, dove,” Keigo waxed. “You just need a bit more, right?”

Another strike.

“F-f— Fifteen— “

“You’ve had such a rough day, haven’t you?” 

His words stir something vile in your soupy brain, a whimper leaking through your parted lips.

(Maybe, you were more fucked out than you thought.)

He hushed you with a yank on your hair, forcing your back and neck to bow.

“My dove just needs to know how loved they are, hm?”

You nodded, his grip tightening but you could hardly care. Each spark of pain felt so fucking good, your lingering barriers broke down more and more with each one of Keigo’s touches.

Whether they were that syrupy comforting kind or burning, bruising kind, you couldn’t care or tell. The blend of it all was flooding through you so well, all you could do was blubber out numbers between bursts of tears and ‘more’s and ‘please’es.

“T-we— n— ty!” The syllables felt choppy, maybe, but you hardly cared.

“Good girl, fuck,” Keigo gritted out, palming the front of his trouser. He’d been graciously (read: cruelly) ignoring your dripping cunt as well as his own ache throughout your spanking session.

He’d make sure the two of you were satisfied by the time it was all over.

You did have five strikes left.

 “Taps for me, love,” Keigo’s rubbed at your back, hips bumping into your broiled ass. 

You gave the leather below a single hard tap.

All good.

“Perfect.”

 And with very little reverie, a few of Keigo’s feathers shot from his wings, wrapping around your wrists and ankles, pinning you to the leather.

And with even less reverie, Keigo’s spread your asscheeks wide and spat onto your cunt.

“K-Keigo!”

His name ripped from your throat, mixing with a shriek as the cold spit went clammy against your burning flesh.

“Try again, sweetness.” 

The next strike was hard, and Keigo’s hold didn’t shift from your cheeks. 

He’d hardened two fucking feathers.

Larger ones, broader enough to strike down at the top of the curve of your ass with a swift flick.

They were so much harder than his hands. 

So.

Much.

Harder.

Harsher.

Crueler. 

“D-daddy!”

You corrected yourself instantly, clawing into the cushions. Your chest burned as your sobs turned to weepings, your cheeks singeing with each harsh breath.

“Tw— e— nty one!

You barely managed to get the words out before Keigo buried his face in your cunt.

And fuck, did he eat you like the prized meal you were. His words be damned, he had plenty of ways to break you down beyond his verbal praise. 

He lapped at the tacky slick on your thighs, licking up to tease at your pussy with the tip of his tongue. The stubble along his chin roughed up your most precious bits, but you didn’t mind.

If anything, you wanted it to hurt more. 

For that reason, his feathers could finish the job. They surely had a harder hit than his hands had.

Based on the way you were quaking against him, stammering and blabbering little pleads and adorations, they were doing their job.

Broken little thing, weren’t you?

But that was the point, of course. 

“Four more, dove,” Keigo murmured against your folds. “Say thank you with each one, dove. Keep being good for me.”

The command was all you needed, hurriedly nodding into the tear-soaked fabric below.

The feathers struck down again, skin breaking.

“T— wen-ty two!” 

Keigo chuckled against your cunt, pulling away only to tease slide his fingers over your clit, “Feeling good?”

“T-Thank you!”

Oh, you were fucking braindead. 

Keigo was all too pleased, a few smaller feathers going to prop up your hips as they trembled.

“Good,” His words were muffled by your sex, but neither of you had the mind to care about words. It was all in the soup of sounds that kept you rutting back into his tongue. “Keep going.”

The next strike was so loud, it eclipsed the sound of your own shriek.

“TW— wenty three! Thank you!”

Keigo could feel you wheeze, but no taps came.

No reason not to continue.

His own pants felt tight as he rolled his hips into the side of the couch, eyes rolling back into his head as your cunt gushed around him.

Your entire body was thrumming, pulsing from the inside out with what had to be pain, but you could hardly tell. You were spinning somewhere harsh and fast and you didn’t dare try to rationalize it.

All you could ground yourself on was the slap of Keigo’s feathers and the feel of him eating you in earnest.

It was enough, barely.

The next slap just added to your feelings. 

 “TWE— EN— ty f-four! T-thank you!”

Keigo pulled away, wiping your arousal from around his lips and scooting around the couch to get a better look at your face.

As absolutely hot as he was, and how desperately he wanted to eat you up until he burst, he also knew he was pushing you fairly hard.

“Sweetness, ready to take your last one?” 

Keigo ran his fingers through your hair as your eyes focused on him in their half-lidded position. 

“I-I can’t do it, daddy.”

He paused.

You’d have given taps if you wanted to stop, truly. He trusted you on that.

“Yes, you can,” Keigo cooed, thumbing a bit of drool over your cheek. “I know you can.”

“I-I can’t,” You sobbed out, burying your face into the couch. Despite your words, you stayed tense and rigid.

All you needed was a little push.

Keigo took to leaving gentle touches across your back, rubbing out your tension wherever he found it knotted. Your weeping didn’t fully subside, but it certainly quieted as you took gulps of breath was some gentle coaching.

“Can you take one more for me? For your daddy?” Keigo glowed with pride as he spoke, seeing the way your eyes lit up and your head bobbed against the cushions.

“Uh-huh,” You leaned into his touch where you could. “One m-more, f-for you.”

You gave a single tap into the cushions.

 Keigo couldn’t help but be proud of you as you readjusted, arch going harsher and deeper.

He’d finished your spanking off with his hand, you earned it after taking so much so well.

The large feathers returned to him, while a single small one drifted between your sticky thighs to part your folds.

Slowly, the plume circled around your clit, lapping at the nub as his tongue would, your juices soaking it all the same. 

Even as Keigo laid the most gentle touch on your ass, the throb and burn of it made your whimper and whine. 

One more.

Just one more strike and all of that mundane stress and anger would be broken off from you and dissolved in a puddle of your own tears.

“When I give you your last one, you’re going to cum all over that feather for me, dove, understand?”

You nodded, hurriedly, barely grinding against the stimulation. 

Keigo wound up, wings extended and full, before putting all of his weight into his swing.

His palm hit your rear with such a crack that it broke both of you.

You screamed, shrieked, as your thighs clenched and gave out beneath you. Any cries you’d be managing to hold back ripped from your throat with the last smack as your cunt clenched and pleasure exploded in your gut. 

Barely, you managed to speak through your tears.

“Twenty-f-five.. .. thank you....” 

Keigo had to take a moment himself, breathing hard and particularly weak-kneed. 

The sweet cry that had torn from your mouth was all he needed to be pushed over the edge, his cock twitching and spurting while hardly even being touched.

He was impressed, with both himself and you.

“God, dove, you did so well for me,” Keigo wiped the salt from his brow, ignoring his creamed pants to slip onto the couch and pull you into his arms.

You were half-lucid, sticky with sweat and arousal but you couldn’t find yourself to care. All you could fixate on was the feel of Keigo’s heat and the ruffle of his feathers as you settled into his lap.

Keigo pressed kisses against your temples and cheeks, positioning your thighs around his own and allowing you to sag into his chest. 

You clung to him with everything you had as you spun down from your high.

He whispered little affections to you, small praises and love for doing so ‘well for him’ and ‘how good you took it, took it all’. 

A few of his feathers came and went carrying a bowl of fruit, chilled and cut up into bite-sized pieces.

From your haze, Keigo pressed a piece of sweetness to your lips.

“Eat, love, take it,” He purred as you opened your mouth just enough for the fruit to slip in. You chewed slowly, focusing on the flavor and texture before swallowing.

The spare drool that slipped from the corner of your mouth was quickly scooped up by Keigo’s thumb, gathered and popped into his own mouth.

His feathers rippled.

“I feel a lot better,” You slurred into the crook of his neck. “Thank you.”

Keigo chuckled, something high and light that made your guts turn anew. His hand brushed over the meat of your ass, bruised and covered in welts, “You’re welcome, but...”

His touch hurt, but in the best way.

A pleasant reminder.

“How does this feel?” 

“Painful, but good,” You hummed, opening your mouth for another piece of fruit. The tartness of the bite brought you closer to lucidity. “You’re too good to me, you know.”

“Flattery, when you’re this fucked out? I’m impressed,” Keigo pulled you closer by the small of your back. “Rest for a little bit, then I’ll clean us up, sound good?”

“Very,” You circled your arms around him, locking your hands just below his wings. “But... ‘us’?”

“I might’ve nutted. Maybe.”

You snorted, but you were quickly quieted by another piece of sweetness and plenty of distracting affection.

Desperately needed, by both you. 

....

thank you for reading!!! check out my links (ko-fi, ao3, and twitter!!)  

[rachelbethhines]

Fanfic Fashion - Chimistry Buddies

I've already mentioned the 'chemistry buddies' tee-shirt in the fic.

And while I don't reference it directly, I envision them wearing said shirts during this scene in season 2 as well.

So enjoy this 'bonus scene' that may or may not make it into the fic proper. Just know it takes place sometime during S2.

-----------------------------

Varian stood in the doorway of the chimistry lab admiring the view.

Honey Lemon was too busy with writing her notes as she studied the chimical reaction in the test tubes and beakers before her to notice he was staring at her.

Right at this moment her back was turned to him as she bent over the table to write; and Varian couldn't help but appreciate the way the jeans she chose to wear that day accentuated her curves.

Honey Lemon looked great in anything. However, it was a rare treat to see her forgo her usual baggy sweaters and shapeless dresses and wear something that highlighted her lovely long legs and, in Varian's opinion, bueatiful backside.

You could hardly blame him. He was sixteen and in love. What teenage boy wouldn't enjoy seeing the object of his affection running around in a nice pair of high waisted jeans? The fact that she wore a chemistry tee-shirt, all tied up at the side so as not hang down at her thighs nor get in the way of her experiments, was just the cherry on top.

She was perfect.

Beautiful. Smart. Kind. And someone who understood his own passion for science and love of chimistry in particular.

The only problem was that she was unaware of his feelings for her.

He had tried to tell her, countless times, only for something to come along and interpret him or break the mood.

He chewed on his bottom lip as he tried to steel is courage. He was going to make the attempt again. However he needed a way to break the ice...

Well they were alone in the lab so it was now or never.

He coughed to gain her attention. She turned to him and he gave her his most charming smile.

"Excuse me, have you lost an electron? Because you are positively attractive!"

Honey Lemon blinked at him for a moment in confusion as Varian's smile began to strain.

Oh, no! He had screwed it up! Worse, maybe she didn't like him at all...

Then just as suddenly Honey Lemon doubled over with laughter.

"That's a good one." She snickered, and Varian joined in on her giggles.

It wasn't the reaction he had hoped for, but at least she wasn't rejecting him outright.

"Ooh, ooh, I got one! I got one!" Honey Lemon insisted, before straighting herself upright and flipping her hair back, as if she was about to give a speech. "Are you made of copper and tellurium? Because you're CuTe."

Varian also couldn't hold back his own laughter as he realized just how corny pick up lines really were. Fortunately it was just like Honey Lemon to join in on a chemistry joke.

"Alright, I'll play." He said through his own snickers. "Hey baby, I've got my ion you!"

He gave her an exaggerated wink and Honey Lemon just about lost it. She could barely breathe through her laughter.

When she finally composed herself she gave him a flirty little bat of her eyelids and said, "Are you a non-volatile particle? Because you raise my boiling point."

She fanned herself with her hand after saying this, in a mocking manner, and Varian also bursted out laughing even louder then before.

"Oh are we going really nerdy now? Then how about this one? You are a photon quanta to my valence electron because you excite me to a higher energy level." He slid closer to her and gave her a Cheshire grin.

When she could finally breathe from laughing she shot back. "You’re hotter than sulfur hydroxide mixed with ethyl acetate."

"Oooh tell me more." He half joked. God, she was wonderful. "How about this one?" He leaned in even closer and in almost seductive whisper said, "I hear, chemists do it on the table periodically."

He raised a cocky eyebrow at her and her cheeks flushed a bright red at she looked at him in shock. For half a second Varian feared he had offended her, only for her to violently snort with even more giggles then before.

She buried her face into his shoulder as she shook with laughter. Varian wrapped his arms around her for support.

When she finally lifted her head to look up at him she gave him a exasperated sigh followed by a blissful smile. "Your awful." She breathed, in a tone of voice that really told Varian that he was anything but.

"I know." He proudly proclaimed as still held her in his arms. He had just won. He didn't know what he had won, their previous exchange of good natured jokes wasn't really a competition. However, seeing her breathless with laughter while holding her close was a prize like no other.

Especially when she looked at him like that.

Eyes shining with a mixture of admiration and annoyance. A playful smile on her lips. Her hands grasping his shirt as if to pull him closer, or at least to keep him near.

His smug grin slowly faded the longer her looked at her. He wanted to keep holding her. He wanted stare into those emerald eyes forever. He wanted to kiss her soft, inviting lips.

Varian had never been kissed before. He didn't know precisely what it would feel like, but everything else about Honey Lemon was affectionate and warm. He bet a kiss from her would be just as wonderful.

Unfortunately, before he could take the plunge and close the distance between them, Honey Lemon lowered her head again and gave another sigh, before pulling away.

"Thanks." She said. "I needed a good laugh. I've been so stressed over school. I got like fifty million things to do today."

Varian watched as she gathered up her things to leave. She didn't notice the palpable look of regret on his face.

"Do you mind turning off the Bunsen burners for me? I have to get to my next class in like three minutes and I'm running late as is."

"Sure, no problem. " Varian akwardly agreed as she turned towards the door. He called out to her once more before she left.

"H- Honey?"

She paused in the doorway and waited for him to finish his thought.

He briefly considered asking her out, but as he opened his mouth, he realized that the magic moment had pass.

"D-did you know scientists have recently discovered a rare new element?" He squeaked.

"Really?" She asked, all excited.

"Yeah, yeah, it's called Beautium, and it looks like you are made of it."

He forced his usual confident smile and Honey Lemon giggled once more.

"You got me." She said before saying goodbye and hurrying off.

Varian let out an aggravated sigh before she left.

He hadn't totally blown it, but he hadn't gotten what he wanted either.

Why was romance so complicated?

Building a portal to another dimension was easy compared telling a girl that you liked her apparently.

It shouldn't be this hard, and yet it was. And poor Varian was at a lost of what to do.

[lue-arlert]

Lue!! Congrats on 100 followers!! <3 I would pretty please like to meet up with Armin, NSFW pls bc I'm a whore. I also wouldn't mind being a sugar baby.

Sandie my love thank you so so much 🥺🥺🖤

I hope you enjoy your date with Armin 🥰🥰

WC: 1.7k

18+ minors and ageless blogs do not interact

The strangest date a sugar daddy has ever wanted to take you on was mini golfing.

You couldn’t say you weren’t excited, you were gonna get burgers and ice cream beforehand, and the simplicity of the date was a nice change of pace from others trying to constantly feed you calamari and wine—you could only handle so much of it.

Though, you were still confused about why he had you dress up in such an expensive dress, glimmering and soft in the sunlight, just for a $10 game of mini golf—but he did a great job planning ahead and buying you a comfortable pair of flats instead of stilettos to go with your dress.

He wanted to meet you at the ice cream parlor, saying he was running late from work and didn’t want you stuck at home looking so pretty when you could be out showing off your new outfit—even if you were just sitting in the parking lot.

Soon, while you were biting your nails against your car, a nice shiny black car rolled up beside you, and Armin Arlert stepped out in all his blond, dorky looking glory.

He wasn’t like any sugar daddy you’d ever had. He was younger than others, his hair fluffed and hanging in his eyes with a nice buzzed undercut, a button nose sitting between his baby fat cheeks, and his suits never appeared to be extremely expensive. In fact, he hardly ever wore a full suit. It was mostly just a nice pair of slacks and a wrinkled button up shirt tucked into them with simple loafers on his feet.

He smiled at you, taking your hand and kissing the back of it. “I hope you weren’t waiting too long, I’m sorry again for being late.”

“It’s okay.” You grinned up at him and slipped your arm into his, letting him walk you inside.

Your lunch was delicious—a cheeseburger with all the fixings, crispy fries and a cold soft drink, then your favorite ice cream in a crunchy cone.

Getting to know him was a lot of fun. He surprisingly had similar interests with you, so it was easier to bond with him and make jokes and tell stories about your life.

You kept getting stares from people who were dressed in just tee shirts and lawn-mowed tennis shoes, and it was getting Armin riled up. He loved when people could ogle at what was his, that he could show off his money, even in a humble environment such a burger joint ice cream parlor.

When other men would look at you, he just knew that they were trying to undress you with their eyes, the way they gazed over your shoulders and legs.

Armin couldn’t wait to be the one undressing you.

He paid for the golf balls and putters, holding your hand between rounds, touching your back to help you get the right posture for a hole-in-one, kissing the side of your head when you got excited about a hole-in-two.

It was when you bent down to rest your ball on the tee at a particular round, he suddenly lost it.

Glancing around, he made sure there weren’t any other patrons nearby, and he scooped you up by your waist, pulling a startled yelp from you, and carried you over to a large tunnel shaped like a barn that one would walk through to get to the next course.

There was a small bench in it, which he carefully placed you on and sat himself between your knees, pushing you back against the wall and kissing you ferociously.

You were still in a state of shock, having to take a moment to process what was happening, but you finally kissed him back with your arms around his neck, sighing happily through your nose.

His lips were warm and soft against yours, his nose bumping yours as he tilted his head, sliding his tongue into your mouth while his hands traveled up your sides.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him against you, and you could feel the bulge in his pants pressing into your core.

You couldn’t help the moan you let out at this contact, and it only fueled the fire that was burning inside of him.

Armin pulled away from your lips and latched onto your neck, his hands finding their place over your tits and massaging and squeezing, growling at the plump mounds in his palms.

Your body felt so good against his, the way your curves were flush against him, the way your hips absently rocked against his, your arms draped over his shoulders and hands in his blond locks.

He couldn’t wait any longer and pulled the front of your dress down, exposing your breasts as he leaned down to suck on one, then pushing your dress skirt up to your hips and pulling your thighs apart.

You moaned at his touches and kisses, and when his hand slipped between the two of you and his fingers found your clit, you all but melted against him, your body relaxing at the feeling of the little swirls over the bud.

And when he slipped a finger into your panties and pushed them aside, dipping into the hole of your cunt, you let out a shaky whimper as his knuckles dragged along your insides, leaving you twitching and rolling your hips.

“A-Armin—”

“‘Daddy’,” he corrected you against your throat.

“Daddy—! Someone, someone will see us.”

“Let them, pretty.” He finished the second hickey on your neck and kissed up to your ear, curling his fingers inside of you. “Let someone see how beautiful you are, how sweet you sound moaning for me.”

He pulled back and looked into your eyes as he continued to finger you, biting his smiling lip when he watched your jaw drop. “Does that feel good, baby?”

“So good, daddy,” you whimpered, your head falling back against the wall.

“Do you wanna cum on my fingers or on my cock?” He nipped at your lips and you whined, grabbing his shoulders.

“Your cock, daddy.” You slid your hands up to his face and pulled him into another kiss, to which he groaned and nodded against you.

Armin’s fingers slid out of you and he quickly made work on his belt and pants, pulling his thick length from his briefs.

“Gonna fuck you real good, baby. You want that? Want me to fuck you on my cock?”

“Please, daddy, want you to fuck me.” You nodded and slid your fingers into his hair, gasping when he rubbed his tip through your wet folds.

“Hope someone catches us,” he chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist while his other hand positioned himself at your hole. “Want them to see how beautiful you look getting fucked by me.”

Before you could comment on this, he sheathed himself inside of you, making your jaw drop into a silent O, and Armin took great pleasure in seeing you in the hazy state.

“Everything okay, baby?” He asked in a condescending tone, grabbing your face as he began to thrust in and out of you at a steady pace.

You let out a shaky moan and nodded, your knees pulling closer to your exposed chest.

Armin chuckled again and brushed his thumbs on the corners of your lips, staring at how your mouth hung open, before he slid a thumb over your tongue, making you gasp.

“Suck,” he commanded, grunting with another thrust.

You immediately followed his word and wrapped your lips around the digit, hollowing your cheeks to pull him deeper into your mouth, running your wet tongue over his skin and nail.

He let out a breathy moan and continued to rock into you, his balls slapping against your ass as he quickened his pace.

You wrapped a hand around his wrist, holding his hand against your face as you continued to suck on his thumb, your teary eyes looking into his cloudy blue ones.

The tightness of your lips over his finger had Armin growling, mimicking the tightness of your pussy around his cock.

He removed his thumb and kissed you quickly, roughly, before pulling back again and resting his forehead on yours. “I’ll buy you something nice if you let me cum in you baby,” he whispered.

“Daddy,” you whimpered, holding onto him tightly. “Don’t need—don’t need nice—unng—please just cum in me.”

He laughed in your face, gripping your hips and holding you steady as he fucked you harder and faster, feeling you close to your own release and drawing your orgasm from you in an instant, bringing his mouth to yours so he could drink in your moans and cries, grunting as you squeezed and clenched around his cock.

“Gonna cum, baby,” he warned, brushing some of your hair away from your sweaty face and neck. “Gonna fill you.”

“F-fill me, daddy.” You nodded, eyes screwing shut as you began to grow overstimulated.

Armin held your jaw and kissed you again as he shot his load into you, spurt after spurt of his seed painting your insides and spilling out the sides of your hole down his length.

“Fuck, you did so good for me baby.” He shoved his tongue into your mouth and pulled out of you, quickly looking down to watch his essence drip out of you onto the bench and asphalt beneath you.

A sound drew both of your attention to the end of the tunnel, a couple standing in shock at the sight of him between your legs.

When Armin caught a glimpse of the tent in the man’s pants, he smirked and lifted your leg by your ankle to show off your trembling, dripping pussy while you squeaked nervously.

“Isn’t she beautiful? She did so well for me.” He kissed your calf and lowered your leg again, helping fix you back up and pulling you to your feet, dusting off the back of your dress.

He guided you out of the tunnel, passing a wink to the couple as he wedged past them, while you buried your face into his arm, embarrassed (and weirdly excited) about having been caught.

Maybe you could try this again sometime—fuck in public, and hope that Armin can show you off again.

Lue Arlert’s 100 Follower First Date Event - CLOSED

[anakinlove]

anakin + oversized tee shirt headcanons. whatever that means to you

OKAY HI THE WAY I AUDIBLY GASPED: I’m literally giving you everything that pops into my head about this so 👀

Ask me about his jedi robe sometime

My Masterlist

Come gimme a request 🥰

Okay so Anakin wearing an oversized shirt??? YES SIR YES PLEASE like say it falls just at the very top of his thighs, and it’s all very loose, think the tunic from Attack of the Clones on Naboo!

He does the flappy hands with long sleeves because it’s so rare for shirts to be big on him (LARGE BOY LARGE BOY LONG ARMS) he just likes to have fun with them every time he gets the chance

Plus? His Jedi robes are just kinda large (as all are) so I think one of his nervous ticks would be balling the long sleeves into his hands, it gives him something to feel and squeeze to ground himself, so he does it with shirts too!!!

Now, reader in oversize shirt???? Anakin loves that shit, LOVES THAT SHIT

Like WEARING ONE OF HIS SHIRTS?? Nothing gets him going like that change my mind, like either just wearing the shirt, or wearing the shirt with little shorts (its all about comfort here babes) 

I also know that Anakin really hates anything course, because it reminds him of Tatooine. It reminds him of the rough texture of the sand, but also its not like slaves were afforded anything nice, so their clothes are leftover fabric. I mean HAVE YOU SEEN HIS CLOTHES FROM PHANTOM MENACE???? wtf IS that collar??????? Shmi’s clothes look bad too, so does Kitsters. It all just looks horribly uncomfy. This is all to say that I think Anakin special orders soft fabrics. Like he has THE softest clothes in the galaxy ™ . That’s just facts 100%

So hugging him? Hugging a warm cloud. Laying on him? Like one of those lil angel babies on a cloud thats literally how it feels. SO HIS LARGE SHIRTS?????? Oh god it would feel like being the richest person alive but also it hardly feels like anything bc of how SOFT IT IS. Literally moving around so much just so you can feel it swish around your body. 

Like his outer robes are literally just hiding soft oversized shirts and thats a fact. Your closet is 90% his shirts, just because they A. smell like him and B. are the comfiest motherfuckers. Hanging around the house? his shirt. Going out? his shirt with a belt and leggings with cute boots. Sex? his shirt. 

I cannot stress how much you wear his shirt. 

I also cannot stress how much Anakin likes seeing you in his shirt. We all know Ani is a lil possessive so seeing you like that is just a ‘holy shit yeah thats mine” moment for him

BUT ALSO, it makes him so so so happy to know that you are essentially carrying around a part of him wherever you go, especially when he’s on missions. It makes him feel like he is still keeping you warm and it makes him feel loved to know that you feel loved in his shirts. And he genuinely adores how you find comfort in them. One time you told him that whenever you miss him to the point of crying, you put on one of his shirts that doesn’t smell like him, only to hug one that does. He was both sad bc you cry, and happy to know he can help somewhat. 

SUPER LONG MISSIONS??? Receiving a package with no “return to sender” that’s just filled with his shirts bc he brought extra just so he can send you ones that smell like him. Has a little note on top of them with “Hi baby, I wore this one yesterday, and the others have been worn this past week. Thinking of you, Love Ani.”

Putting his shirt on a body pillow!!!!!!!

Idk man I clearly have a lot of thoughts about this. 

DANCING AROUND IN ONLY HIS SHIRT AND SOCKS HAIR LOOSE AND SINGING LOUDLY (him walking in and being moved to tears with how much he loves you)

okay thats all i love you bby

Taglist:

@anakinswhore @gonnakickanakinskywalker @etherealsanakin @ani-skyvvalker @haydens-moles @anakinshmanikin @anakinsprincess @agent-catfish-kenobi @saltybreaddream @buckysbeloved @jedi-general @sunsetkenobi @beskar-tano

[closetedotaku01]

Tsukishima Kei - Cold Winter Mornings

Seasons of Love Masterlist

A/N: For all those who love Tsukishima Kei, I hope this keeps you warm

You’d always managed to change his mind on things like this. His hatred of PDA quickly evolved into a genuine desire to always be holding your hand, to kiss your cheek when you were being too adorable to resist, a preference for the back seats that bent his legs awkwardly so he could press his thighs up to yours. He can’t seem to help it. The way his patience is extended when he can watch you browsing through the bookshops. The way he has almost developed an addiction to that trashy TV show you’re addicted to. You’ve affected him. Taken hatred and annoyances and the displeasing parts of reality that always felt like inevitabilities, into the parts of life he most looks forward to.

But more than anything, Tsukishima hates the cold. He’s always been the cold one, forced to bundle up in extra layers, always caught rubbing his hands together before shoving them into his fleece-lined pockets.. Forced to wear gloves and scarves at a slight chill.

When he was young he was embarrassed of wearing ear muffs in autumn, so he chose to wear headphones to cover his ears, keeping his hands in his pockets. It was what helped him learn about his love for music, and it’s what helped him keep his distance from most people once he learned that was a necessity for his… safety.

Waking up those first few mornings as autumn shifted to winter, as the chill transformed into a burning freeze, were always the worst. He’d wake up with his bones aching, curled tight on himself, and then he would be forced to exit his bed. Put on a hoodie he used for cold night pajamas, throw on some socks, and turn the heater up. But by the time he did all that the bed would be cold again.

Like everything else though, you had a habit of changing his mind.

~~~~

Another morning he was forced to wake up early. Ripped from his dreams by the cold nipping at the skin exposed by shifting in the night. He should have closed the curtains last night. He’d do anything that might even mildly help keep the room warm. He got out of bed, shivered at the feeling of cold against his feet, and fixed the room to better fit his needs.

Crawling back into bed though, he was happy. Because you were there. Gorgeous and peaceful, and as he climbed back in…. the bed was still warm.

“Kei,” you whined, “you can’t leave bed when it’s this cold.” You pulled him farther into your warmth and rubbed his back, under his hoodie to warm him up. “Why are you wearing a hoodie?” you ask, annoyed by the extra fabric keeping you from his skin, but still tucking your head into his hoodie.

“I’ll take it off when you’re done warming me up,” he teased, welcoming the cold with a warm smile.

~~~~

“What’re you doing?” He asked, exhaustion keeping his eyes closed and his voice quiet.

“Playing with your hair,” you whisper as you continue to thread your fingers through the messy blonde tangles, shying away slightly embarrassed that he woke up at your ministrations.

“What’s your weird obsession with my hair,” he asks, nuzzling closer to you so you know that despite his teasing he’d never want things to be different.

“It’s so soft,” you say, brushing his bangs away from his face, and placing a soft kiss to his forehead.

His arm glides up your arm, resting behind your neck, before he pulls you down to kiss your lips, “Okay.”

His body relaxes again, his hand slipping down to your hips, as he enjoys the feeling of your hands, the sweet, familiar movements. Scratching gently at his scalp, carding through tangles, weaving your finger into his hair. It’s so relaxing.

It slips without him realizing, the cold forcing out honesty, “I could stay like this forever.”

He tries to think of something cool to follow up. A way to tease you. But his mind is too flustered in the early morning to have a good aspersion to toss at you.

“I could, too,” you say back.

He’s not sure if it was intentional, or if the early morning was also drawing the words out of you… but he loved hearing it. He sits up, your lazy hand falling from his hair, sliding down his cheek gently before landing on his chest. He smiles at how easy your touch is now. How it’s gone from something he overthought.. something he’d spend hours poring over, something that caused anxiety to well up in him… into the only thing he always trusted to calm him down.

He doesn’t want to move. Especially not when you look… so perfect. But he does anyway. He swings his legs off the bed, wincing at the cold that immediately clings to him, sucking away the warmth he’d stolen from you in the night, a short hiss leaving his lips.

You grab his wrist, “Hey! I thought you said you could stay like this forever. Where’re you going?”

He chuckles at your sleepy whines, “Turning up the heater. It’s freezing.”

You slide your fingers up to his elbow, and pull down. Hard. He crashes back into the bed and you giggle as you pull him toward you, “Then you better cuddle close.”

He couldn’t help it. The words fell before he could think better of them. He was too focused on the way you smelled as he tugged his body into yours. Too focused on the way the worn fabric of his tee shirt felt softer between his fingers when you wore it. Too focused on the way you slid your feet between his, locking your ankles with his. Too focused on your warmth.

“God, I love you.”

He didn’t even notice what he’d said. He didn’t notice until he felt every muscle of your body… every muscle that was pressed against him… tense.

“Kei… did you— it’s okay if it just slipped. I know it’s early… and it’s… it’s easy to get carried away in nice moments. But… did you … did you mean it?” Your voice is broken, and he hates that his mind is racing. Too much. Way too much. He can read you so well. But of course now is when his brain gives in. Too tired to detect anxiety or hope or if it was breaking because sleep was still heavy on you. Was it his heartbeat that was pounding so hard and fast? Was it yours? Why could he feel that thrumming everywhere. Throughout his whole body. Hearing each beat loud in his ears as coursing hot embarrassment raced through his veins.

And despite every bone in his body telling him to do otherwise… he could never lie to you.

He took in a shaky breath, but his words came out certain, “Yeah.” He presses a kiss to the crown of your head to keep himself calm, “ I meant it.”

Did he ruin it? Did he lose y—

“I love you, too.”

The second it took for you to process his words and to smile before responding... that was the longest second of his life.

The rest of that morning is a blur.

He remembers saying those three words a lot, simply because he felt like he could. He remember each and every time you said them back. The way you shaped your lips to turn the cold morning into burning heat, fluttering in his chest. He remembers the way you sent everything in him on edge. He remembers kissing you a lot. More than he’d normally let himself. Your forehead and cheeks and nose and every bit of you his lips could reach without moving because he was, in that moment, truly intent on making that morning last forever.

~~~~

Waking up next to you was always a reward. A blessing. A sign that, no matter what it felt like, he was pretty damn lucky.

But of course the cold was still bitter.

You were already sitting up, stretching your arms above your head, letting out that beautiful, tired sound he’d grown addicted to as his shirt rises to expose a sliver of your skin to the cold. It’s a sound he fully intends to hear every morning until the end of his days. Not that he’d tell you that. He usually feigned sleep while you stretched just so you’d never find out.

You knew. No one smiles like that in their sleep. And his eyelids have a way of fluttering to betray his attempt.

You start shuffling to get out of bed. And he hates the cold that he knows will rush in as soon as you’re out of the bed.

He never wanted to ask you to stay in bed. It was… too pathetic. Too clingy. It was a sign of desperation and he didn’t need you knowing how much he needed you. Not yet anyway.

But… the mornings leave him defenceless, walls down, doors open. Vulnerable. Completely bare to the warmth only you can give, or fully open to the biting cold. He already knows he’ll regret it. Knows that this is not the right move. The cool move. The move that’ll keep you swooning for him. But he can’t help it.

He wraps his body around you again. Tight. Close. “Not yet.”

You break away from him and the cold that sneaks between your body and his is deadly. He wants to pull you again. Tangle his legs with yours, hook his arm tighter around your waist and mold your back into his chest until not even you could tell where you end and he begins. But that’s not what he does. It’d hardly be the suave move. Not the move of the cool, stoic guy you’d been so enchanted by. He’d ask again if it wasn’t so pathetic.

He lets you go. Clinging to the warmth in his hand as it slides down your body and then off your hip as you finally finish sitting up. But the world warms again as you turn over, facing him, and burying your face into his chest. Throwing your arm over his body, your leg over his hip, holding tight to his warmth. “Not yet,” you repeat back to him, voice raspy and high from the sleep stuck in your throat.

You pull the comforter higher over his shoulder so his back is properly covered as you let yourself melt into his warmth.

He could get used to the cold with you.

~~~~

You wake up cold. Freezing actually. You turn around and reach out for the man you adore. The one who was surely hogging the covers in the corner as you froze on the other side of his bed. But he wasn’t there. You sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you try to piece together where he could be. He went to bed with you. He fell asleep before you. Maybe he had to pee? You turn to see the bathroom light off, no sounds coming from the dark room.

You get out of bed, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders as you head out of the bedroom.

“Kei?” you ask the darkness.

You hear his voice. A swear whispered under his breath. You find him under the tree, glowing by the fairy lights with three gifts, wrapped in paper you two hadn’t bought together, that he was trying to arrange.

You look at him questioningly, but he gives you no response aside from wide eyes.

“It’s cold,” you say, reaching your hand out to him.

“Go to bed then,” he says back, quickly shoving the gifts farther under the tree.

“The bed’s cold too,” you say, pouting.

“I’ll be there in a second.”

You creep up behind him, and throw both your arms around his shoulder, blanket draping over both your bodies. You tuck your head into his neck. He’s barely able to make out the whispers mumbled against his skin, “You’re cold too.”

“Then go to bed so you can warm me up,” he teases, rubbing a hand up and down your arm to warm you.

“But I’m cold,” you say with a tired giggle at your own neediness for his warmth.

He sighs, “Okay then.”

He stays with you, you warming his back as he finishes putting the presents behind the tree. If you hadn’t caught him, you probably wouldn’t have seen them in the morning. Probably a surprise that he came pretty damn close to sneaking past you.

When he’s satisfied he hooks his arms beneath your knees and carries you on his back. He takes you to bed and lays you down gently before joining you under the covers.

He traced shapes into your back as he held you close, only thinking of how you came to him, when you were cold.

[artichokedoesnttrustyou]

Yes Mr. Stark, No Mr. Stark

Starker Kink Exchange prompt (That’s super late) @starkerkink

Gift for tumblr user @blankblankityblank 

Prompt: Peter or Tony finds out something that the other did and get very angry, so they punish the other. 

Tags: 18+, Explicit, Dominance, D/S, Masturbation, Edging, Whipping *

Edit 1: I am so sorry this took me so long to write. I just noticed that you requested spanking and not whipping so I'm also sorry about that. This is my first Starker fic, also first age gap fic. 

Edit 2: This has been sitting in my drafts since mid October and I’ve just been so afraid to post. Anyway it’s February almost March and I feel like shit for not giving it to you yet. So I hope you do like it. 

Ao3

MINORS DNI

.

.

.

Peter was sprawled out on his shared king size bed. Hand on dick teasing himself he moaned in frustration. In need, in want. He wanted more than what his hand could provide. The tv was on, it was playing sex videos from Porn Hub. Peter had F.R.I.D.A.Y. turn it all the way up so it would feel as though he was there in the room with the actors. He had his eyes shut as he imagined the actor dom speaking to him. 

He was holding a vibrator that he was using to tease himself. The toy vibrated his inside sending small shocks through his body, he continued to push it in and out of himself. 

But between the porn star moans and the slick hand rubbing against his dick it didn’t make him feel what he wanted.

He was horny with no helpful outlet. The dom in the video wasn't doing "it" enough for him. No raspy deep voice ringing in his ears telling him what he could and couldn't do. No structure, no guidelines, no rules, expectations or consequences.... No fun. None of it was real or had his heart racing.

“Sir, Mr. Stark has arrived,” the computer generated voice of F.R.I.D.A.Y. came through. Peter could hardly hear her over the loud moans coming from the tv. A few seconds passed before it registered to Peter what she said to him. ‘Mr. Stark was back!’ Peter jumped up immediately from the news. 

“Oh fuck!” He exclaimed as he scrambled off the bed to find his discarded underpants that were thrown off along with his other clothes 20 minutes prior. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y turn off the tv,” Peter commanded as he pulled up the stretchy material to cover up his genitals. The room was suddenly quiet as he threw on the remainder of his clothing. Quickly he kicked the vibrator under the bed and rubbed his oily well lubed hands onto the bed sheets just as the door was opening.

“Hey babe,” he was greeted by Tony who wore a black suit with his tie already loose and ready to be pulled off.

“Hey!” Peter greeted back already back in bed under the sheets.

Tony looked around, a bit skeptical about what his boyfriend was doing. The room was quiet, his boyfriend was fully clothed in the room, the lights were slightly dim, and Peter’s hair was sticking up in odd places and visibly damp from where Tony’s stood.

“What were you doing?” Tony asked a small smile threatening to appear on his face. 

“Me? Oh I was,” Peter paused, his brain not coming up with anything on the fly. His eyes darted over to the tv. “I was watching tv.” 

“Tv?” Tony questioned gesturing to the off screen. “The tv that’s currently turned off?”

“Yep. Just boring old tv. I was done watching it,” Peter spoke. He made sure to keep his voice leveled. Well not too leveled or Tony would totally know something was up. He watched as Tony went to the closet and stripped himself of his clothing. 

“Maybe we can watch something together?” Tony calls over his shoulder. Peter was half way listening. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Tony's muscular back. And watching as the sun kissed skin managed to hug tightly against Tony’s muscular back making Peter wish he could run his tongue against-

“Are you listening?”

“Huh?” Peter blinked back into reality. Tony was now closer to the bed, having changed into pajama pants and a black tee. 

“I said, maybe we can watch together.”

Peters eyes went wide. “Um no, we can do anything else!”

This caused Tony to lift an eyebrow.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just excited to see you.”

“Friday turn on the tv.”

The tv turned on and the adult film that Peter was watching a view minutes ago flickered onto the tv. The sound was still raging loud and the moan from the male bounced around the room. Tony grabbed the remote and turned it down. 

“Never heard of this show, what's it called?” Tony asked as he sat the remote back down on the nightstand. “Is it ‘Lying Little Boys’?” His voice dropped a bit, real deep that it sent an electrical jolt down Peter’s spine and straight to his dick. Which by the way had gone flaccid but now twitching to be touched.

“I honestly just watch for the plot. You know the shitty acting and stuff like that. The porn was just an, uh, a second thought. Ya know?” Peter went on a little rant not paying much attention to Tony anymore but more to his own words. Tony nodded his head as if he was listening to Peter, but he wasn’t. Instead Tony was looking for evidence for what Peter was actually doing.

He pulled back the sheets that were strategically bunched up near Peter's waist. Underneath was Peter in tight black jeans, which was weird since Peter was supposedly “watching tv” and he’d feel uncomfortable laying in bed in jeans. 

Also not to mention the lube in between Peters legs. 

“Hm?” Tony tutted, waving the lube in front of Peters face. “Just for plot you say?” 

Peter’s face began to heat up from sudden embarrassment as he became very still. 

“No response little one?”

“Well uh,” Peter started unsure what to say. His words were gone and even if they were able to spill from his mouth he’d stutter out some pathetic explanation as to why there so happened to be sexual pleasure lube in bed with him.

“Play room, stripped except  for your underwear, and kneeling,” is all Tony said before Peter rolled himself out of bed and out the room.

...

Peter rushed up the steps of Mr. Stark's place at a fast walking pace. He hurried to the play room that Mr. Stark had instructed him to go just a few moments ago. He kinda fucked up. Well no, he's totally fucked up. He pulled on the hem of his shirt and quickly tugged it over his head and off of his body, leaving him cold, a shiver going down his spine. He kicked off his shoes and peeled his tight black jeans off of his body. He stood in the center of the room in his socks and underwear. Mr. Stark did say to strip. But Mr. Stark usually wants him completely nude, what's different now? He did lie straight to the others face, maybe that's what changed? Wait but if he isn't completely nude does this mean that this would be strictly punishment? Peter didn't want strictly punishment he also wanted fun.

Peter rubbed his fingers through his hair in deep thought. He was slightly panicking and he really needed to breathe. Just breathe.

He took a breath in and shook his arms out to try to calm down. 

A quick look to the door and Peter slipped out of his socks before folding them neatly in a pile and kneeling in the middle of the room.

He didn’t hear the door open but he did hear the soft click of it shutting behind Tony. Peter strained to try to hear where Mr. Stark would walk. Would it be to him or maybe to one of the many toys located around the room. 

“Stand up,” Tony said as he held wrist cuffs in his hands. As he strapped them on to Peter he talked. “You and I both know you’re not supposed to be touching what’s not yours without permission right?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes sir,” Peter fixed himself. Tony hummed as he brought Peter over to the huge black X that was over by the wall. It was mantled to the garnet red wall, leaving Peter no space to run away once his wrists were connected to the top of the X. He parted his legs to be shoulder length apart as he has done so many times before. 

He felt Mr. Stark get close to him. Really close. His chest pressed firmly against Peters back, his mouth only inches away from Peters ear. It made his body cave, he wanted more, and during this whole interaction his hornyness never left him. 

“Traffic light,” Tony asked him softly into his ear. His breath sending shivers through Peter and all he wanted to do was reach out and touch his lover, his master. 

“Green,” Peter replied. 

And suddenly the warmth of Tony's body was gone. Way too quick for Peter's liking. 

The first lash was never hard, Tony always made sure that the first was a warning. It landed right across his perfect little bubble butt. Peter let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding. A quick gasp as the next his his lower back with more sting to it. 

A constant flow in between the center of his shoulder blades. A criss cross type of pattern until a small squeak exited the boy's mouth that he was trying so hard to keep in. This went on for what seemed like forever. Each strike sent Peter deeper and deeper into submission as the pain started to increase. He was so lost in a haze that it took Peter a few seconds to realize that Mr. Stark had stopped. 

He looked upon the nice rosey red skin, running his hand down feeling the heat radiate off of well beaten skin. 

“Light?” Tony asked Peter and in response got green. 

“Now,” Tony started as he wrapped his arm around Peter's waist to reach his dick, he felt that the member was still half hard. “Let’s get you down and start on some real fun.”

...

“Did you have fun earlier,” Tony asked Peter as they now stood in the middle of the room. He pushed back a few strays of hair that was covering Peters face.

The shorter boy nodded his head in response.

“Verbal answers are the best answers,” Tony sang a little, rubbing his thumb over Peters lips. “Did you have fun earlier before I came in?”

“Yes I did.”

“Good.”

The fingers pressed firmly against Peters mouth And in a matter of seconds slipped right in. Peter loved objects in his mouth and sucking on fingers as well as other things brought him joy. 

“Mmm, you seem hungry would you like to suck on something more than my fingers?” Tony asked. 

“Oh please sir,” he mumbled out through the fingers.

Tony chuckles, “alright go ahead.”

He sank to the floor, the fingers out of his mouth now and in any other situation they would be missed but Peter already had his mouth set on something bigger. Something better. 

His fingers touching softly upon the dark plaid pajamas pants that Tony wore. He tugged it down as well as Tony’s boxers to reveal Tony’s semi hard member. 

He wrapped his fingers around it giving it a good few pumps before shoving it into his mouth.

Dick in mouth Peter hummed as he felt Tony’s hands comb his hair. Soft touches at first until Peter tried to pull back. 

“Have I told you that you have an amazing mouth?” Tony comments as his grip became tighter in Peters hair. It was like a handle that he used to forcefully fuck into Peters mouth. 

Peter allowed his mouth to go slack, the member going farther in. And if Peter didn’t think about it, he was able to not gag as the dick hits the back of his throat. 

But soon he needed to breathe, having not yet mastered how to breathe and suck dick at the same time. 

The wet sounds of the dick sloshing around in Peters mouth adding to the slight gagging that happened randomly turned Peter on so much. The taste of salty slime faintly on his tongue. The rough thrust from Mr. Stark. The grunts that fell from Mr. Stark as well as the almost unbearable pain of having his hair pulled. Oh yes, Peter loved all of it. 

And then it was gone.

Mr. Stark stepped back. Looking down at Peter who took this moment to catch his breath. Tony noticed a few stray tears coming from Peters eyes but he didn’t miss the smile that was also plastered upon his cute pink lips. 

“I wanna fuck you” Tony says quickly and disheveled. This caught Peters attention. To be fucked my Mr. Stark today?! But he touched himself without permission? This wasn’t adding up in his head but Mr. Stark was already walking to a drawer to get a condom and lube, and he himself was already getting on his feet to lean over the table he was instructed to go. 

He waited for a bit, quite impatiently. He was horny. Even though his dick didn’t truly show it, Peter could feel it. He needed release. And as he waited impatiently he became to rub himself against the wood he was bent over. It didn’t do much, hardly no where close to anything Peter wanted but that didn’t stop him from rubbing. Not to mention the small amount of cloth that surrounded his dick took away most of the friction he wanted. 

Sharp pain to the middle of his right ass cheek sent Peter to the tip of his toes. 

“Do you need another lesson in not touching what's not yours?” Tony's voice came from behind him. Peter wouldn’t have been able to see him even if Tony’s hand wasn't around the back of his neck stopping him from standing up straight. 

“Ah! No sir! I’m sorry sir.”

Tony aimed for the other cheek and enjoyed the small bounce of Peters ass from the sudden impact. “That’s twice you’ve done this.”

“I’m sorry sir,” Peter repeated while he pushed his ass in the air and gave it a little wiggle. 

“Oh I don’t believe you are. But that’s ok, we’ll fix that.”

A small sound of disappointment was heard from Peter and all Tony could picture is his baby’s face scrunched up in a small pleading pout. He pulled Peter up and placed a kiss on his cheek.

“Stop being whiny,” he says as he kisses him again.

“Mm, yes sir.” 

After laying Peter back down Tony opened up the lube he had brought over. Pouring some onto his fingers and Peters crack, he began to push in two fingers. 

It was fairly easy for Tony to finger the other. Way too easy.

Fingers still in ass Tony grabbed Peters hair and tugged forcing a whine through Peters lips. 

“Something you wanna say boy?”

Peter gnawed softly upon his bottom lip. “No sir not really.”

In quick movements Peter was suddenly on his back looking up at Mr. Stark and the ceiling.

A smack landed upon Peters cheek. And he almost reached up to touch his face. But he caught himself.

He focused his eyes back onto Tony who was looking at him expectantly.

“That’s number three. Would you like to try again?”

Peter nodded his head unsure if he should talk. It’s been a while since he’s gotten to strike three. 

“Tell me.”

“I kicked the toy under the bed before you walked in.”

“Thank you for telling me. Are you well stretched?”

“Yes sir.”

Tony exited Peter's view. The sounds of metal dangling, best described to be chains, reached Peters ears before Tony came back into view. 

"I'm going to restrain your hands so you don't continue to touch yourself," Mr. Stark explained as he began to bring Peter’s arms together and above his head. He connected the chains to the cuffs that Peter still wore and then to an undisclosed area that Peter wasn't quite sure on. 

Once done, Tony returned to his previous position at the end of the table. He grabbed Peters hips and pulled him until his ass was on the edge.

Lining himself up he pushed himself into Peters ass. Pushing in slowly for caution just in case Peter wasn’t as stretched as Peter said he was. 

“Mmm,” he moaned once he entered completely. "I’m going to enjoy this," he smiles, making eye contact with Peter.

His thrusts began to go faster, both enjoying the friction. 

Reaching down Tony started to rub Peters dick. 

Other than his shouts of pure bliss he watches as Peter begins to twitch beneath Tony’s touch. 

But soon in the middle of his own blist Tony started to notice that Peter was also close to orgasming so he removed his hand and forced more on his humping. 

The room was filled with yes’s and fuck’s as Tony soon reached his climaxed. 

Tony pulls out, catching his breath. He looked at Peter who had the most wanting look in his eyes. Tony pulled off the condom and discarded it in the trash can across the room. 

He came back and looked down at Peter before bringing his hand down Peters stomach. 

“Do you want attention now?” Tony asks.

“Yes, please yes.”

That’s all Tony needed to hear.

His hand on Peters dick jacking him up and down. The sweetest moans escaping Peter's mouth. 

He loved doing this. Knowing that he was the one giving Peters the pleasure that Peter wanted. He just needed to remind Peter of their dynamic. 

Peters toes began to curl meaning he was getting close to his orgasm.

And then Tony stopped. He pulled back his hands and momentarily discontinued all physical contact with Peter.

“No, no,” Peter begs. The words falling from his lips without him even thinking. 

“Huh? What was that?” Tony asks, lifting an eyebrow. He walked around the table until he was by Peters head, looking down and over him. They looked at each other. Well Tony looked at Peter, and Peter squeezed his eyes shut as he pulled on the bondage that kept his hands away from touching himself. 

“S- sir,” Peter begs.

“Yes Peter?”

“Please.” 

“Please? Are you asking me to continue?” Tony asks. “But I thought I was ‘sir’? Am I not?”

Peter frantically nods his head.

“Please sir, yes sir. It’s up to you.”

He ran his hand over Peters nipples, twisting them a little to force a few grunts and pitiful whines from the other. A smile forming on Tony's face.

“Will you tell me if you are close to orgasm?” Tony asks.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, that was one.”

Tony reached for the lube while he walked back to the other end of the table, Peter watching his every move. He poured a bit more onto his hand and then firmly grabbed Peters dick again. 

“Mmm fuck,” Peter mumbles out. 

He moved his hips up toward Tonys hand basically fucking it. He squeezed his eyes shut as his body tenses. All he wanted was to get off. 

“Sir, i'm close, can I please come?”

“No.”

A word that Peter most definitely did not like one bit. And he felt Tony's hand disappear from around his dick.

“Nooo,” he whines knowing full well he wasn't going to win this interaction. If Tony said no then Tony said no. That's how it works. 

“Please?” he begs again softly. 

Tony leaned down and casually kissed Peter's stomach. “No.”

A whine escaped his mouth and he once again tugs on his restraints. 

A small chuckle escaped Tony's mouth as he watched the other tug on the strains in a totterly like tantrum. Soon enough Peter settled down and looked at Tony with the world's biggest brown eyes. Full of lust and want and willing to do anything that Tony would say, Tony like that.

“What number are we on?” Tony asks, joking with Peter. 

“Sir it was two” Peter pants arching his body towards Tony's touch. But to his dismay Tony kept his hand just inches from having contact. 

“Are you sure it's two? It doesn't feel like it's two. I think we're just on one”

“But-” Peter's voice crack with complete despair which made Tony smile. 

“Just kidding. One more time, can you do that for me?” 

“Yes, yes I can,” Peter nods. Tony waited until Peter relaxed on the table once more before applying more lube onto his hand. 

This time he made sure to have a firm grip on Peters dick as he made the hand motions of going up and down. 

And soon enough Peter was on edge again. 

“S-sir,” Peter starts, mumbling the word over and over as if it's the only thing he can say.    

“Hmm?” 

“I’m close, I’m so close. Can I-?” he was cut off by his own moan. 

Tony didn’t say anything, instead he kept his motions going. Listening to Peters begs and moans, gosh Peter was so sensitive it was amazing.

“Go ahead,” Peter heard Tony say. In a matter of minutes he felt the knot that was in his stomach finally release and all the happy feels starts to rush around him. Tony kept jacking him off as Peter released in his hand. 

Tony leaned down and placed a kiss onto Peters check. “Good job honey” he whispers. 

...

3508 Words

I hope you liked it. I didn't incorporate after care, please don't ask why.

*I know I’m missing tags however idk what they are so please tell me what is missing

[whumpingcrow]

Pt. 6 "Bang Bang!"

CW: drug/alcohol description (explicit), mention of noncon/dubcon, vomit mention, injury description (past and new), emotional manipulation/gaslighting, creepy/intimate whumper, tourettes/tics, August in general, food mention, stalking mention, bondage, drowning mention, gun mention, gunshot wound, blood mention, character death (explicit) (Let me know if i missed anything!)

Elias woke up with a pounding headache and a nausea that he had never felt before. He couldn't even open his eyes, all he could do was curl in on himself with a groan. At some point he had been set on the bed, the blanket pulled over him. As he tried to recall how he got there, he came up blank. The last thing he remembered was sitting next to August, asking him for another drink. After that, it was all blank. As he pulled the blankets tighter around him, a jolt of pain ripped through his body, and he let out a whine. Everything hurt, every inch of his body felt mangled or broken or bruised. He wanted nothing more than to just pass out so he didn't have to feel it anymore, but he felt like he was spinning just laying there and it made him feel sick to his stomach in a way that wouldn't allow rest.

He heard the door open, carrying along the sound of footsteps and the smell of bacon cooking. He gagged at the smell, squeezing his eyes shut tighter, scrunching up his face in disgust.

"You awake, Eli?" August asked, his voice carrying softly in case he was still sleeping.

"Go away," Elias grumbled, "I don't wanna talk."

August let out a laugh, much to Elias's annoyance, and then to really add to his growing irritation, he felt the mattress sink down next to him. "Yeah, I bet you're pretty hungover, huh?"

"I'm serious August. Please leave me alone." He felt August's hands on him over the blanket, and he was suddenly furious. Hadn't he done enough? Elias was black and blue and still had caked blood on his face from his nose and felt like he might vomit any second, couldn't he just spend a little bit of time resting? Was that really too much to ask? As he sat up much quicker than even he was expecting, he shoved the blanket off of himself and pushed August's hands away. "I said leave me the fuck alone!"

August glared at him as the bitter words left his mouth, but it only lasted a second before he backhanded Elias across the face. He wasn't surprised at the broken cry Elias let out, or the fact that he had to grab him by his shoulders and press him hard against the wall to keep him upright after the blow. He leaned in intimidatingly close, until he could see the glistening tears building up in Elias's fear hazed eyes. "If you ever speak to me like that again I will rip your fucking tongue out."

Elias stared at him, eyes wide and silent tears streaming down his cheeks. He didn't try to move away from him and didn't speak, paralyzed in fear. He wanted the pain to stop, he wanted to stop being scared, he wanted to go home. But all he could do was stay silent and allow August to break him.

"Never talk to me that way. Do you understand?" He was using a more steady tone now, less furious. He loosened his grip on his arms, and Elias could already tell his arms would have hand shaped bruises later. He finally nodded his head once, swallowing back his fear. "Good," his voice was kind again, a self-satisfied grin spread easily onto his face, "good boy."

Elias sighed shakily, looking down at his trembling hands. It suddenly hit him that no one was going to save him, that it had been days and he was still stuck here. August was right, Tyson didn't care about him like he thought he did, now that Allen was ok. He was going to die here. This was it for him. A chill ran down his spine, and he looked up at August as a sort of sickening acceptance hit him. He couldn’t help but hope that August, in his own twisted way, actually wanted him. Even if it only went as far as desire, of lust, he hoped that behind all the torture that August actually wanted him here. Because if he didn't... that would mean that no one wanted him. Not Tyson, not his parents, not even August. And he didn't think he could handle that.

"Do you care about me?" He whimpered. "Or am I just a replacement for Allen?"

"That's a stupid question," August huffed, letting go of Elias altogether. "I hardly even know you, idiot. Of course you're a replacement." He was still smiling softly at him as he said it, and if Elias wasn't really listening to what he was saying he wouldn't even realize he was being mean.

Elias closed his eyes, his heart sinking. This was all a game, he was just a toy, a warm body. Every nice thing he'd said was suddenly a lie, Elias didn't believe any of it. He wasn't beautiful or perfect or precious like August told him, which he knew, but knowing that August had been lying about it made it that much worse. And he had been begging for affection, allowing him to touch him so intimately. Now the deep nausea in his stomach worsened with the swelling disgust in himself. He noticed August was still staring at him with that sickly sweet smile, and he tried to plaster on his own nonchalant, carefree grin. Even he could tell it was faltering and not at all convincing, but the only other alternative was to show that he was hurting, that August's words bothered him, and that was even worse. "That's...that's so relieving." His voice caught painfully as he forced a mangled chuckle. "Here I was, worried you'd catch feelings and I'd have to break your heart." Even as he said it, even with the strained smile he wore, he was choking back his sobs.

"Oh, Eli," August sighed, seemingly defeated. His face softened a fraction -maybe, Elias could have easily been imagining it- and he looked almost like he felt bad for making him upset. "I was only kidding angel. Just giving you a hard time." He reached out and pet Elias's hair gently, frowning when the obvious hurt look on his face stayed. "You're so sensitive. I'm utterly obsessed with you."

Elias sniffled and brought his good hand up to wipe the tears out of his eyes, but once his fingertips fell on the damaged skin of his face, he decided it wasn't worth all the pain, and he let a few slide down his cheeks anyway. "You stress me the hell out."

August laughed at him and pushed himself off the bed. His black shirt had some sort of band logo on it, one Elias had never seen, and it made him a little uneasy to think of August being normal enough to like a band, to buy a tee shirt from them. It was too human, and thinking of August as anything less than a monster made him feel like the crazy one, like he was making up all of the torture.

"Come on, let's get you some breakfast."

Elias groaned at the mention of food, shaking his head. "Man, I can't even think about eating." He was yanked off of the bed by his arm anyway, letting out a sharp gasp and doubling over as a searing pain tore through him. He clutched onto August's shirt, his breathing hitched and short as he waited for the pain to subside.

"What is it, love?" August asked him, his voice concerned. Elias wanted to roll his eyes at his honeyed voice, it was giving him whiplash to try and keep up with August’s violent switch between caring about the pain and being the creator of it.

Instead, he could only shake his head, still unable to breathe correctly. He cried out as August scooped him up, then, almost like he was giving up, buried his face in his clothes. "You really hurt me yesterday," he whimpered, "I thought you said you would only hurt me when I misbehaved. I didn't misbehave."

"I didn't hurt you because you were bad, angel. I hurt you because you sound so pretty when you're hurting." He set Elias down in one of the uncomfortable kitchen chairs, smiling at the breathless whine he let out. "See, like that. Absolutely gorgeous."

Elias looked away from him, chewing on his lip nervously. He hated the way August explained everything like it was obvious, like Elias was missing out on very well known information. Of course August hurt him because he liked the way he sounded. Duh. He grimaced when August grabbed his face, tilting his chin up towards him. "You are so beautiful, Eli. So very pretty."

Elias couldn't help but lean toward him, sighing at the touch. "I wish you were so sweet all the time," he whispered.

August chuckled, running his thumb across Elias's lip, amused at the way he relaxed against him. He was surprised at how easy he'd been adjusting, so far. Sure, he was stubborn and foul mouthed, but he didn't expect him to be accepting, borderline wanting, touch so easily yet. It took Allen a little over a week to get where Elias was already. "I have to show you something," he said, already pulling out his phone.

August had had people keeping an eye on Tyson, following him to make sure he stayed clueless, leaving minuscule threats that were untraceable, ready to hurt him if he was getting too close to finding Elias. They had been sending August pictures as updates, and August was absolutely giddy at the few that they had gotten of Tyson and Allen, them clinging onto each other in a tight embrace, them going somewhere with Tyson's arm slung around his shoulders. Supposedly it wasn’t much more than a friendly touch because Allen was still with Leo, his free shrink, the one he called his husband, the one who Allen was using to make himself feel better. But that didn’t matter, Elias didn’t need to know that. As far as he needed to know, Tyson had handed him over and was now all touchy with his ex again.

When he turned the phone to show Elias, he watched his face fall into a dejected, hopeless frown. So August wasn't lying, then. Tyson really had traded him off for Allen, threw him to the wolves in order to protect the person he actually cared about. He turned away so he didn't have to see it anymore, closing his eyes. He had been hoping against hope that August was lying, clinging onto the belief that Tyson cared, that he would never dream of doing something so horrible. Maybe he was just stupid. Maybe he should have expected it from the beginning.

"See? You're better off here, where someone actually cares for you." August rubbed his shoulder as he spoke, his voice soft and almost...nurturing.

Elias looked up at him, nodding his head. "Yeah," he whispered. His voice was horse and tense from trying to choke back his tears. "Yeah, you're right." He sighed as August placed a kiss on his forehead, leaning into the touch. So that was it, then. Tyson didn't want him and probably wasn't looking for him, he was stuck here with August. He told himself it could be worse, August could do what he did to Allen and torture him and beat the shit out of him, and he wasn't, really. For the most part, he was just vaguely threatening when he wasn't being sweet and praising. He could live with this. Maybe if he was very well behaved, August would stop being cruel altogether, he could actually enjoy being here.

"Want some orange juice? It might help your hangover."

"Yes please," Elias answered, wrapping his frail arms around his battered body.

After August finished eating and Elias felt a little less like he was standing on death's doorstep, they were sitting in the living room, Elias on the floor in between August’s legs. He had his eyes closed as August played with his hair, listening as he hummed softly to himself. His headache was starting to subside, and August began to massage his shoulders. Elias wondered how long it would take him to actually wholeheartedly enjoy the touch, how long until it didn't come with a confusing mix of fear. Half of him wished it would be soon, it would be so much better than the gnawing anxiety he was feeling all the time. But the other half was appalled at himself for even so much as sort of wanting it now. Why would he want to enjoy the soft, obsessive touches of the person who had spent the last few hours torturing him? Why was he letting him touch him right now? He was an idiot, for not running away from him and doing absolutely everything in his power to keep his hands away from him.

"Are you feeling better, bunny?" August asked him, leaning over so his lips brushed against his ear. He smirked when he noticed that Elias's muscles grew instantly taut as he closed in on him.

"A little. My body hurts, sort of." He tilted his head back to look up at him, the corner of his lips twitching into a smile when he kissed his nose. "Th...thank you."

"Of course." He grabbed a fistful of his hair to pull him closer, Elias's already unsteady breathing faltered nervously. "Hey, I'm gonna invite some of my friends over later, is that ok?"

"Yeah, that's cool." He closed his eyes again, forcing himself to relax in his grip. He wasn’t really sure why August made it seem like he had any say in the matter. He was probably messing with him again, pretending like he cared, like Elias mattered to him. "Can we get drunk again?"

August chuckled, pulling off of him altogether. "We should just get high, I don't think your little body can handle anymore alcohol."

"I don't like weed," Elias grumbled, "I told you not to let me smoke again."

"Not weed then. I think I have some molly." He stood up, making his way to the kitchen. When he came back, he sat on the floor next to Elias, holding out his hand to show him the two small pills placed in his palm. Elias was scared, he hadn't even smoked weed or drank before he came here, he didn't know if he was ready for something like molly. But August was much less scary when he wasn't sober, much easier to be around. His stomach was in knots and his hands were shaking as he reached out to take the pills from him, and then he was tossing them back before he had a chance to change his mind.

Elias felt like he was floating, like his body and his mind were finally connected. His tics weren't painful anymore, they were borderline comfortable, like he was scratching an unreachable itch in his brain. The world around him seemed to glow, a bright and beautiful haze that enveloped him with warmth. Why had he been so scared to feel this way? This was what he wanted life to feel like all the time, this calm and pleasant and warm.

August's friends were loud and laughing from the second they walked in, they were all hands and flashy smiles and guttural laughter. Elias noticed how different August seemed around them, how he wasn't threatening or evil at all. He seemed so normal.

Elias was the focus of their attention, he seemed to amuse them quite easily. Particularly when he ticced. They all laughed and mimicked him, but it was all in good fun, to Elias. The laughter just felt warm and friendly, and the way August was looking at him with a wide grin made him feel comfortable with it.

"Hey, here's an idea," one of them spoke up, "let's take little Elias for a swim."

The rest of them chuckled and agreed, and Elias was yanked to his feet, the amount of hands on him was confusing, everyone was ushering him outside. But it was just swimming, right? August took him swimming a few times, and usually it was one of the few places he was safe, at least for awhile.

He blinked at the bright sunlight, looking at the glimmering pool and then at all the people around him. He felt his shirt being tugged at, and he began to feel nervousness creeping up his spine. He started frantically searching through the sea of people to find August, but every face that stared into him was unfamiliar and almost demonically grinning at him. He squirmed in their grasp, the fun suddenly seemed to ice in the air around him..

"Stop it, please," he begged them, still searching for August. "Come on, you're scaring me."

"Awe, he's scared," one of them teased, grabbing some of his hair and pulled it playfully, laughing at him, "look at him, he's still spazzing!"

Elias gasped as they pulled his shirt off, using it to tie his hands up behind him. He scrambled a little bit as they shoved him toward the edge of the pool, afraid of the suddenly dark and choppy water, trying his hardest to not fall in. It was all futile though, and they tossed him into it carelessly.

Elias could only think of one thing as he tried to kick his way to the surface: oh god I'm drowning! He couldn't seem to get the shirt off of his arms, no matter how hard he tried. His lungs were screaming for air, surely his panicked thrashing wasn’t helping, and through it all he heard a loud pop from above the water. He heard another, this time he felt something shooting threw the water next to him. Were they... Shooting at him?

He grew more frantic, fighting against the shirt and the water, suddenly lightheaded. After one of the gunshots, Elias's arm lit up in pain. His shoulder was burning, and he fought harder. The pool around him was dark with blood, making everything all the more horrifying. One last shot rang out, and seconds later Elias was pulled out of the water. He collapsed onto the rough concrete as he gulped in breaths, trying to ease the burning in his chest. The shirt was pulled off of his arms, and he cried out as his shoulder fell forward, remembering the pain. He was pulled to his feet, feeling himself being pulled into a warm, clothed chest. August. He was able to breathe a little better, but now he could hear the quiet wailing of someone behind him. August pulled away before turning him to his group of friends, one of whom was on the floor holding his leg as he cried. Elias noticed the puddle of red around him, and he paled. Had he shot himself by accident? As he thought it, a cold, heavy thing was pressed into his hand.

He looked at August questioningly, eyes wide. He felt August force his fingers around it, holding his fingers down with his own. "What... What?"

"He shot you, you're gonna shoot him back." He spoke through his teeth, an angry grit in his voice. So August had shot him. That made sense.

Elias shook his head, feeling August stretch both of their arms out to point the gun at him. "No! I don't wanna do that!" He whimpered, trying to pull his arm away.

"Stay still Eli!" August snapped. He held him still, tightening his grip over Elias's hand on the gun.

"Please, August!" The man on the floor wailed, writhing in pain still. Elias was shaking in his panic, watching him in horror. He flinched when August forced his finger down on the trigger and it made a loud pop. He froze, eyes wide as he watched the bullet pass through his head, and then watched him crumple to the ground in now an ever bigger pool of blood. He couldn't speak as August pulled the gun away from him and tucked it away. He stumbled as he was led inside, feeling light-headed and like he was about to vomit.

He was silent still as August sat him on the edge of the bathtub, cleaning the wound on his shoulder. He couldn't even feel the pain, his body numb.

"It's a pretty clean shot, I don't think it hit any bone. Kind of just grazed you." August spoke as he bandaged him up. "Does it hurt?"

"Yes," Elias answered mechanically, his voice wavering. He tried to breathe, but his breathing was unsteady and quick.

"Hey, look at me." August instructed. Elias looked up at him, his breath catching. "You're ok. Everything's ok."

Elias felt tears streaming down his face, but he still didn't really feel anything. "I think I'm in shock." He whispered.

"Yeah I think so. Let's go get you wrapped up in a blanket and get you some water, ok?" He helped Elias up, leading him into the living room. He draped a blanket over his shoulders and sat him on the couch. He left him to talk to the rest of his friends, and all Elias could hear from their conversation was something about getting rid of the body. He pulled his knees up to his chest, staring blankly at the floor.

August came back in, sitting close to him. He handed Elias a glass of water, smiling as he took small sips. "There. You ok?"

Elias looked at him, then back at the glass of water. "I shot someone," he stated blankly, "I killed someone."

"Mhm. And he deserved it, too." August petted his cheek gently to try and sooth him, but Elias stayed rigid and cold.

"I killed him. I killed someone." Now he was saying it like he was reminding himself what he did, trying to come to terms with it.

August pulled him into his arms, holding him tight. He was waiting for him to break, to get over his shock and start bawling or screaming, but he stayed eerily still against him, besides his shaking.

They sat that way for around 30 minutes, Elias worryingly silent in August's arms. He wasn't even ticcing anymore, he was so still that it was freaking August out. He pulled away to look at him, and when Elias made eye contact, his face twitched into a frown.

"What the fuck!" He gasped, his hands tightening around the blanket. His eyes welled up with tears.

"Hey, hey, it's ok," August soothed, wiping at Elias's tears gently. "You're alright, love."

"I can't believe...what the fuck did I do?!" He began to sob, his shoulders jolting with the gasps. "What the fuck! Holy fuck!"

August got concerned at his ragged breathing, the panicked rising of his voice. He couldn't say anything to calm him down, not when he was panicking so much, so he slapped him. Not too hard, just enough to jolt him out of his panic. "Listen to me, Eli. Everything is fine, don't work yourself up."

Elias bit back sobs, frowning at August. "I'm sorry," he whined, his lip trembling, "I'm so fucking sorry."

"You’ve got to stop freaking out like this.” His voice was scolding, like Elias had broken a plate or something only slightly annoying and not shot and killed someone. “Seriously, sweetheart, you’re letting everything get to you way too much. You’ll make yourself sick with worry.”

Maybe it was the tone of his voice, the way he was making it all seem so insignificant, but Elias believed him. He didn’t have any control over the situation, maybe there really was no point of getting so worked up, it only made it more scary.

“I want to get drunk again, now,” he breathed, his voice trembling and weak, “please.”

August grinned at him, nodding approvingly. “Ok, love. Whatever you want. Come on, we’ll go make some drinks.”

When they were in the kitchen, two of August’s friends were still in there, hovering next to the counter. One kept looking over his shoulder out the window, at the now red tinted pool outside, his face pale. The other simply stared at the wall to his left, his stare blank and faraway. Elias felt them turn to stare as he lowered himself into a chair at the kitchen table. He was surprised when the more obviously nervous one moved to sit across from him.

“Hey,” he mumbled awkwardly, “how are you feeling?”

Elias looked like maybe he didn’t hear what he said, using his good hand to pick at a chipped part of the table. There were traces of dried, partially washed away blood on his forearm. It had slid its way down his arm when August was bandaging him up and he hadn’t bothered to wash it away completely. Elias understood why, what was the point of it? What was the point in worrying or caring about anything? Like August said, like he was starting to realize, it was a waste of his energy to sit around upsetting himself over it, what was a little dried blood?

“I’m fine,” he choked out. “What about… what about you?”

The man shrugged, watching Elias’s hands shaking and ticcing every now and then as he tried desperately to keep them busy with the ruined wood. “I feel bad. It was meant to be a joke, it wasn’t supposed to go that far. I didn’t know he was gonna… I’m sorry that happened.”

August took a deep, aggravated sigh from where he was mixing their drinks. He didn’t say anything when he set a glass down in front of Elias, but he did trace his thumb over his wrist before turning to the counter. He made three more drinks, dispersed them to his friends and then sat down with his own.

They all drank in haunting silence, August seemed like he was the only one who wasn’t upset, his face was almost bored. Elias tried to mimic his levelheadedness, to try to not think about it. And yet, he kept having to reach up and rub the tears blurring his vision out of his eyes.

[eryiss]

Ship: Freed x Laxus

Rating: Teen

Prompt: Soulmates

Summary: THE S0U1MATE SYSTEM. A week-long experience guaranteed to find you your soulmate. Laxus had dismissed it as nothing but crap, and brought himself a ticket to prove it. It would have gone well, if it weren’t for the handsome guy running the program who kept catching his eye.

Notes: This was written as part of Fraxus Week 2021, as always hosted by @fuckyeahfraxus. Check out their blog to see all the other content.

Links: Event Masterlist ||| Archive of Our Own, Fanfiction

THE S0U1MATE SYSTEM

Year: 2055

Location: Tokyo, Japan

"Laxus Dreyar," A robotically cheerful voice echoed through the room. "Please step into the preparation area."

Rising quickly, Laxus strode through the reception room and towards the door that had lit up. The animated emoticon projected onto the wall followed him as he walked, and the glass door shimmered out of existence as he approached. Once through the archway, the glass flickered back into place, and the emoticon went back to its unanimated state. So far, Laxus had yet to be impressed by THE S0U1MATE SYSTEM.

It claimed to be an experience that will end up matching an attendee with their soulmate. You paid your fee, gave up a week of your life, trusted in the system that it would work, and supposedly you'd end up meeting the love of your life. Laxus was only there to disprove it.

Well, also because Ever had paid for it, and he knew how much it costed. But mainly he went to disprove it.

So far, he'd undergone a full body scan, had his social media accounts interrogated, and submitted a completed questionnaire that covered everything from best first date ideas to how he dealt with the inevitability of death. This was apparently so the algorithm could create a profile for him, and was not reflective of how the program would be. According to the guidebook Laxus had absently flicked through, the morning of the first day was slightly tedious, so to better match him with potential lovers. It all seemed stupid – as far as Laxus was concerned, romance was born out of coincidence and chemistry, not a list of things you liked and didn't like – but he was willing to undergo it all just to prove how it was a waste of money.

Each day, he would go on an 'Experience' with a match. It was a simulation of a first date, purpose built to the two people's shared interests. Some people went on candle lit dinners, some people went into an escape room, some people were stranded in the middle of the ocean with only each other for company. Every experience was tailored to the participants.

At least it would be interesting.

Laxus walked down the corridor, following the neon arrows that pointed him to another shimmering glass door. The pretentious modernism of the building was obvious, and it showed off every ridiculous advancement in technology in the most frivolous ways. It couldn't be a more obvious money-making scheme if it tried.

As he walked through the door, he saw a man standing at a podium. His date, perhaps.

Well, if that was the case, they at least knew his type.

Tall, long legs with some obvious lean bulk to them. Well dressed, in clothing that clearly was trying to highlight his physique but not in an obvious way. His face, looking down at the tablet attached to the podium, was sharp and angular, with high cheek bones and a slightly jutting chin. A mole rested below one of his vibrant eyes, and a long main of flowing green hair hung down to his waist. He was hot and Laxus grinned; at least he would spend a bit of time with a sexy guy.

As Laxus approached, the man looked up with a polite smile. He didn't make a move towards him, as Laxus expected, and continued to tap on the tablet before him. The lights gained a bright blue and the small room illuminated itself.

"You must be mister Dreyar," The man said in lieu of a greeting.

"Yeah, nice to meet ya," Laxus nodded, stepping forward and offering the man a hand to shake. He took it; he had a good grip on him. "Guess you're my date for the evening."

"Ah, I'm afraid not," The man denied, and Laxus frowned a little. "I work here, I'll be overseeing your simulations throughout the week as part of a quality control test. You'll meet the man who you've been set up with in the simulation itself."

"Thought the system was supposed to be automated?" Laxus asked, retracting his hand, and taking a step back.

"It is. A few times a year someone is called to watch over, to make sure it's as streamlined as possible," The man looked back down to his tablet again and began typing, and a small bubbling of curiosity grew in Laxus. Nothing he'd act on, but the face of concentration on the man was an attractive one. "I'm surprised you weren't informed beforehand; I must admit. It's in the contract you signed that this could happen, but the company does like to warn people before things begin."

"It ain't a big deal," Laxus shrugged, looking around the small room. "I ain't really sure how this part of the process works, so maybe you could help. I didn't catch yer name, either."

"Freed Justine," The man introduced himself, smirking ever so slightly. "In a moment you'll walk through those doors," he motioned to the aforementioned doors, "and the simulation will begin. Your date will walk through another set of doors, and you'll meet then. We like to have dates meet for the first time mid-way through a simulation, as it feels more natural than meeting beforehand. Once you've spoken for a while, the activity of the simulation can begin."

"How do I know what the 'activity' is?"

"It's normally fairly obvious. If you were, for example, white water rafting, you'd be placed on a dock with a boat already attached to the rapids," Freed explained, looking up from the tablet again. "I'm sure you'll figure it out."

Laxus would have rather known what he was getting into before it happened, he felt like it would give him an advantage. He couldn't dwell on that, though, as the floor below him lit up. Pulses of light seemed to guide him to a corner of the room, where an odd glass cylinder stood. Clearly they were informing him that he was to get inside the cylinder and, after a nod from Freed, he did as he was instructed.

The cylinder closed as he stepped in, and a flicker of nervousness dwelled inside of him as the glass seemed to seal itself shut. He glanced towards Freed, who gave him a short smile, before a flash of light erupted from above. It only lasted a moment, and Laxus took a second to understand what had happened.

His clothing had changed. Where once he wore an outfit he saw as worthy for a date, he now wore a tee-shirt, shorts, and sneakers.

"The hell?" He murmured under his breath.

"That's the outfit that best fits what kind of date you'll be having," Freed explained as the glass unsealed and Laxus could step out. "Partly it's to better round out the simulation, but I think it's mainly so we don't get sued for property damage should your actual clothes get stained or damaged."

"How romantic," Laxus murmured, before looking down at himself. "Am I having a date in a gym or something?"

"Yes, actually. One of your shared interests is combat sports, so you'll be placed in a boxing arena," Freed said after looking towards the tablet. He thought for a moment, then frowned. "I probably shouldn't have told you that."

"Glad you did, I like being prepared," Laxus shrugged. "Boxing's hardly romantic, though."

"For the right person, it is," Freed retorted. The lights around the simulation door lit up green, and Freed smiled. "Speaking of the right person, the simulation is ready, so when you're ready please step through. I hope you enjoy your date."

"I'll certainly try," Laxus nodded. "And if I don't, I get to punch the guy."

Freed laughed, and Laxus approached the door and refocused his attention on his goal on disproving the systems worth. He knew that the guy in the simulation wouldn't be his soulmate. If the company was worth it's price, then they would have understood that Freed was a better match for him than some random guy who happened to like to box. Still, once this was over and he'd disproven their complete success claim, he might get Freed's number. It wouldn't be a waste of time.

---

"So he wasn't the love of your life, then?"

That was what greeted Laxus as he walked into the preparation area outside of the simulation. It had been a day since his first date, and Freed stood before his tablet again as if he'd been waiting for Laxus to approach. He probably had.

"Wouldn't be here if he was," Laxus shrugged. "You saw how it went. Hardly compatible."

"I suppose not."

The date itself wasn't awful, in fact it was pretty fun. As Freed had stated, he'd been taken into a simulation of an old-fashioned boxing gymnasium, where he'd met the guy. He wasn't bad looking, and in pretty damn good shape, but they hadn't been destined for a relationship and they both knew it. Though Laxus couldn't say it was time wasted, as they'd exchanged information and said they'd workout together at some point. Laxus had always found it hard to find a spotter who could match his weight, and the guy could certainly do that and more.

"The first dates don't typically be where people settle," Freed continued, tapping at his tablet, perhaps setting up the next simulation. "The first half of the week has a low success rate, honestly. I believe it's mainly collecting information to better inform the matches later in the week, so don't be disheartened."

"I wasn't," Laxus shrugged. "If I'm honest, I don't believe this is real."

"I thought as much," Freed chuckled. "Though you probably shouldn't have told a member of staff that. It might taint my view of you."

"What are you gonna do. Throw me into a simulated volcano?"

"I could," Freed grinned, and it was a pretty nice look on the man. "But the real danger is that you say it to a member of staff who's gone through the program and who met their partner through it. They can get somewhat defensive, and they'll do whatever they can to make you believe it will work, and they'll be rather annoying while doing so. It's something I know from experience."

"You ain't been through it?"

"No, I'm hardly in a rush to find someone," Freed shrugged a little. "I believe that these things will happen when they're meant to, so why force them? And yes, before you point it out, it's hypocritical of me to say that while working here."

"Never been tempted?" Laxus asked.

"Of course. I know you don't believe it but I've yet to see someone leave the program without meeting someone they eventually fell in love with."

Freed didn't seem like the kind of guy to say bullshit like that for no reason, and the honesty in his tone didn't feel as though he was parroting a line from a corporate memo, so maybe he did believe it. Admittedly Laxus hardly knew Freed, so he couldn't make too many judgments about his person, but the fact he seemed to believe that this could find him true love was a little intimidating. A pragmatist like Freed – that's what Laxus thought him to be, anyway – wouldn't say that if he didn't believe it.

A horrible thought suddenly hit Laxus. He might actually find someone who he might fall in love with. That was… worrying.

"You won't need to change clothes today, your date won't require it," Freed said, looking up from his tablet again.

"Good to know," Laxus nodded, trying to ignore the nervousness that was filling him. "You gonna tell me what I'm doing?"

"No," Freed shook his head. "For all we know, if I didn't tell you yesterday, the date might have been entirely different."

"Nah, I don't think so," Laxus chuckled, walking towards the podium Freed was standing behind and leaning on it. He grinned at the man, who looked up at him for a moment before averting his eyes. "Tell me, I'll complain about you to yer manager if you don't."

"What a horrible threat," Freed said sardonically, though he did look down at his tablet again. "It's a fairground with a circus performance at the end. And apparently your date is something of a gymnast, and so there's a high chance that he'll get on stage and perform for you."

"Is that gonna be impressive or is it gonna make me wanna claw my eyes out?" Laxus laughed.

"He's a professional athlete, so I suspect the former," Freed grinned a little.

They chatted for a few minutes more, and eventually the lights around the door lit up again and guided him towards his second date. Laxus pushed off from the podium he was still leaning on, ignoring the teasing comment that he should adjust his posture if he wanted to impress his future husband, and walked through the door and into the simulation of an outdoor fairground. As he crossed the threshold, he didn't notice how his nerves had disappeared completely.

---

"I'm startin' to think your program ain't as good as you're saying it is."

Laxus spoke as he walked into the preparation area, and Freed looked up with a small grin on his face as he approached. Laxus had the slightest falter in his step as he saw that Freed had his hair tied up in a high ponytail, rather than using the low band he'd had on the two previous days. Seriously, the simulation had matched him with two random men and not the beauty before him and yet still claimed to be the best matchmaking system in history. Ha.

His second date hadn't been bad, exactly. The guy was hot in his own way – and someone with a scene/punk interest would have been all over him – and he was entertaining the entire time. But he was a little too much for Laxus. Constantly wiggling eyebrows and euphemisms. Good for the right guy, but not for Laxus.

"We're still collecting data, every date is an improvement on the last," Freed waved off the complaint. "For example, you seemed to enjoy the games you were playing, so a bit of friendly competition is something you'll like in a relationship," Laxus had to admit, someone who could challenge him was a turn on, so the system had gotten that right about him. "That's certainly been taken into account for this date."

The way he'd said the last sentence, with a hint of amusement and restrained laughter, made Laxus nervous. He didn't push the topic, partially out of fear.

"We'll see how confident you are when the week's over and I've turned everyone down," Laxus shrugged.

"You're determined for this to fail for you, aren't you?" Freed asked with amusement, and Laxus didn't deny it, instead choosing to shrug. "Is that why you're here, do you see yourself as the man to take the system down and prove how much of a scam it is? Because we've had literally hundreds of people try that and we've yet to have an unsatisfied customer."

"How do I know they've not been silenced?" Laxus joked, grinning as he walked closer to Freed. "Or worse, you killed 'em, blended their bodies up and sold it as a health drink or something?"

"Because we're not in a poorly written young adult novel?" Freed chuckled. "We actually just burn the corpses, it's much less messy."

"Knew it," Laxus laughed. "You gonna tell me what you're gonna put me through today?"

"Absolutely not," Freed grinned. "And I won't move on that today. Because nothing is going to please me more than seeing your reaction to it."

"Why, it's not weird is it?" Laxus frowned, looking concerned now.

"It depends on your definition of weird, I suppose," Freed smirked, and if it weren't such an attractive expression on the man then Laxus might have taken issue with it. "I'll simply say, I expect it's weighted slightly more towards what your date will enjoy rather than what you're going to enjoy."

"Or you could just tell me what's gonna happen," Laxus prompted, and Freed shook his head.

"You'll require an outfit change."

Laxus sighed a little, apparently the topic was to be dropped. He walked to the glass pod in the corner of the room and allowed it to close behind him, and he turned to look at Freed in expectation. Freed pressed something on the tablet and the light flash of light filled the cylinder a moment later, the same chill running over him as his clothing was replaced.

When he saw his reflection, Laxus found himself more confused than anything. He was only wearing swimming trunks and a large life-preserver. He could swim fine, so didn't know what the hell the point of that thing was, and turned to Freed again in confusion.

Freed, who had apparently been looking at him, immediately turned away, and Laxus could see his cheeks redden.

Huh. Had Freed been checking him out.

"You really not gonna let me know why I need to wear this?" Laxus asked, stepping out of the pod, and lifting one side of the life-preserver. Freed looked back to him, pointedly looking only at his face, cheeks still covered with the slightest dusting of a blush. Laxus wanted to focus on that, and maybe flex his abs to see if he got a reaction, but instead spoke again in a jovial tone. "You know if I drown in a simulation, I'm gonna get a lawyer right?"

"I doubt that will happen," Freed said, seemingly forcing himself to shake off the blush. "It's just a precaution."

"You wanna tell me what it's a precaution against?" Laxus probed.

"No," Freed grinned again. The lights above the door lit up, and Freed's grin widened. "And it seems you'll be finding out now."

Laxus wanted to push the topic more and find out what he was going to endure, and he very nearly ignored the flashing green lights and did just that. He almost did, if it weren't for the fact that he also wanted to take off the life preserver and give Freed an unhindered view of his chest to see what happened, so he clearly wasn't in the right mind to be making decisions. He was trying to disprove love could be found in this place, flirting with the guy was hardly helping his argument.

As he had the previous two times, Freed wished him luck as he approached the door. Thie time, though, it was tinged with amusement, and Laxus felt a swell of anticipation as he walked through the door.

The simulation was… interesting. It took Laxus a moment to realise he recognised what he was seeing, and a further moment to remember what it was. When he was a kid, his grandfather had watched old reruns of a gameshow: Wipeout. It was a ridiculous set of obstacle courses, where idiot contestants tried to win money but usually ended up looking like assholes, falling into water after being hit by giant mechanisms covered in foam cladding. It was cheap entertainment where the contestants were there to be laughed at, and apparently Laxus was going to be enduring the damn thing.

He turned around quickly, watching as the doors flickered out of existence, Freed's smirk being the last thing he saw.

---

The moment Laxus walked into the preparation room, he was met with a bursting of laughter. He crossed his arms, watching as Freed tried and failed to retain his laughter. It took longer than it should have, and it was tempting to shake the bastard. He would deserve it if he was laughing at what Laxus thought he was laughing at.

"It ain't that funny."

"Oh it truly was."

Laxus grit his teeth. His third date had been the most interesting, that was for sure, but it had also been ridiculous. He'd been forced to go through three stupidly weird obstacle courses, competing against his date, who was a loud-mouthed idiot with stupidly pink hair.

Multiple times, he'd been pushed from the course and into the unnecessarily cold water. The loud cackling from his date seemed to be shot straight into his ears the moment he broke the surface of the water, and the man's amusement at Laxus failing seemed to double each time it happened. During the last round, when he'd been knocked down a slope of gushing water by a barrel of all things, Laxus had to stop himself from swimming over to the man and clocking him on the nose. He'd probably be kicked from the system, so he talked himself out of it and instead put his focus onto winning the game. He had, and the brat annoyingly wasn't bothered at all.

"He was fucking annoying," Laxus muttered as he walked closer to Freed. He leant against the podium again, closing his eyes in exasperation. "Good luck finding him a guy to match with."

"Actually he's on his fifth day here, and everyone other than you said they wanted to match with him," Freed informed him, looking over the tablet. He was being cagey in letting Laxus see the screen surely the next date wouldn't be as bad as the last. "So you're the outlier in the set. He's remarkably easy compared to you."

"Honestly, kinda offended by that," Laxus muttered.

Freed breathed out a laugh, before placing the tablet back onto the podium. Laxus didn't spare it a glance, and instead looked towards the clothes-changing pod to see if he would need a new outfit. Seemingly knowing that, the pod lit up and directed Laxus to enter. With a small sigh, he did.

Once inside, the flash went off and his clothes were replaced by the appropriate outfit. Thankfully, this time he'd been replaced by an actual normal outfit. A dinner suit, perfectly tailored for his body. It was entirely black and white and, while he definitely looked good in it, it wasn't exactly what he would have chosen for himself. He liked his clothes to have at least a splash of colour, and suits could have that in a tasteful way when done right.

"Before you ask, you'll be having dinner today," Freed informed him as he stepped out of the pod. "Fairly simple, but I think that's more than earned. Most people only have one peculiar simulation, you've had nothing but."

"Lucky me," Laxus murmured. "Wanna tell me about the guy?"

"No," Freed shook his head. "Though I should say, it's at this point in the program where the system starts to understand what you're looking for. So it's entirely possible that he might be the person you end up with."

"I doubt it," He rebuffed, glancing at his reflection in the pod.

"Just go in with an open mind, that's all I ask," Freed said, typing on the tablet again. "The gentleman you've been set up with supposedly has a ninety two percent match with the data on you we currently have. There's a good chance that this might go well if you let it."

"You know I wanna disprove this, right?" Laxus grinned. "I ain't gonna help you."

"Well, lets make a deal," Freed smirked. "If you go into your date with an open mind, I'll promise not to put this on YouTube."

Laxus went to ask what, but the lights lowered, and a projection appeared on one of the blank walls. Watching the video, Laxus felt his blood run cold and his body tense, and a glare was soon aimed at Freed for what he'd done. The grin, which could only be described as shit-eating, he got in return only went to further annoy him.

The video was of Laxus' previous date. All the instances of him falling off the course, and into the water, had been put into a montage, with ridiculously obnoxious circus music blaring behind it. Laxus looked like a damn asshole. When the footage slowed down, showing him getting punched in the face by a foam-covered fist, only to lose grip of the handholds and fall face first into a pool of mud, Laxus openly growled.

"Delete this."

"Absolutely not," Freed smirked. "You heard my terms. Give your date a chance and I'll make it disappear. If not, the whole world gets to see you looking like this."

"Yer an asshole, you know that?" Laxus asked, though he couldn't help fighting a grin.

"I do," Freed nodded, and Laxus barked out a laugh. "And your date is ready for you. Have fun."

Laxus waved a hand towards him, walking towards the door and adjusting his jacket as he did so. He supposed he would give this date a chance, just to avoid the humiliation of that stupid video being leaked onto the internet. If it went well, then he'd meet a guy he might be interested in. if it didn't go well, then he could spend the entirety of the next day planning some kind of revenge on Freed for forcing him to endure such a night. That would be fun.

---

The date had been… interesting. Freed was right, the guy had certainly been the closest to someone Laxus would consider getting into a long-term relationship with, and that had somewhat spooked him after the date had ended. He'd been completely certain that he wouldn't meet anyone even close to what he wanted, and hadn't allowed for any deviation from that mindset. Having that belief challenged was worrying.

The guy was smart, silver tongued, and pretty sexy. He wore a suit to perfection, knew all the right things to say, and was flirtatious by nature. Which was all good, and certainly wasn't a turn off, but it wasn't enough for Laxus. He was all too focused on flirting, and didn't show off the other facets of his personality, which Laxus had wanted.

But if he had done that, what then? What if he had a good sense of humour, or was passionate about random things and would happily speak of them for hours? Laxus liked men like that, and his date had been dangerously close to that.

What if he'd gotten Laxus to match with him? What would happen then?

Those thoughts were plaguing his mind as he walked into the preparation room. He hadn't prepared himself for actually meeting someone, certainly not someone he wanted to get serious with. Laxus didn't get serious with guys, he was more of a love them and leave them kind of guy. It was part of the reason he wanted to disprove this place; not everyone was looking to find a guy to settle down with, and Laxus saw himself as one of those people. But the entire selling point of THE S0U1MATE SYSTEM was that it matched people together in relationships that would last.

Who even was he when he was in a relationship? Would he be one of those people who obsessively cleaned their home to impress their partner? Would he have to constantly be thinking about dates and things to do? Would he have to buy the guy flowers? He didn't know how to do that shit. He didn't think he even wanted to do that shit.

"Laxus," Freed asked, cutting through Laxus' growing panic. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, sorry, fine," Laxus lied. He didn't say anything else.

Freed didn't push conversation, apparently noticing that Laxus wasn't in the mood for their conversations. Laxus walked to the small sofa that he'd previously ignored, sat down, and listened to the gentle tapping of Freed's fingers against the tablet. He closed his eyes and tried to drown out his thoughts.

He wasn't ready for the date this time, because if they were meant to get better each day, then the guy he'd be matched with next might one day become someone important to him. What if he fucked the date up and the guy didn't wanna match with him? What if the guy was perfect for him and he didn't feel anything? Maybe he'd spent years sleeping around, never being with the same guy for longer than a month, and it'd fucked him up somehow.

"If you'd like to enter the pod," Freed prompted, and Laxus looked up to see the clothing pod lit up.

Doing as he was told, he walked into the pod and waited for his clothes to change. After it happened, he felt that his pants had been replaced by something uncomfortably clingy, and he frowned a little. The frown turned to a grimace when he saw his reflection.

"The fuck?" He demanded.

He was dressed in all green, wearing tights and a slightly sparkling tunic. He looked fucking stupid; even more stupid that he had on the damn Wipeout video. He gaped at his own reflection, not entirely sure what to say. The whiplash from emotional turmoil to embarrassed confusion was overwhelming.

"The fuck!" He repeated.

"You'll apparently be performing as Peter Pan for your next date," Freed informed him, and something close to dread built inside of Laxus' stomach. What the fuck? What the fuck! How the fuck had anyone thought that was something he'd enjoy? Who could think he'd wanna be with someone who wanted him to… to perform on stage while looking like an asshole?

"I fucking am not." He snapped.

"The system states that you'll have a very high matching rate with her," Freed replied, before frowning. Laxus also turned to look at him. "You only wanted to be matched with men, didn't you?"

"That's right," Laxus nodded, voice low. It had set him up with a woman?

Freed looked down at his tablet, face scrunching slightly for a moment as he swiped and tapped at the glass, and Laxus tried not to enjoy the sight. He seemed to understand something, flicked on the screen a few more times, and the pod Laxus had left lit up again. Laxus frowned, looking towards it in confusion before turning his gaze back onto Freed.

"There was a blip in the system. Apparently your date and another man's date were mixed up. If you'd like to step into the pod again it'll give you your actual outfit."

Relief flooded through Laxus. There were certain things that he would have outright refused to do, and making an ass out of himself on a stage, dressed like a glorified pixie was certainly one of them. But the contract he had signed said he was obligated to undergo all simulations if he didn't find a match, as not doing so would harm the reputation of the company unfairly. Would Freed had forced him to do it if he hadn't noticed? Laxus hoped not, but he couldn't be sure.

The new outfit was a lot more simple. It was normal clothing, with a large winter coat and, he realised a moment before he tripped, his shoes had been replaced by ice-skates. He knew how to skate, so it wasn't a problem, and compared to what he'd nearly had to undergo, this was perfect.

"Would I have had to do the fucking performance if you didn't notice it?" He asked.

"I'm sure the system would have picked up the mistake before you went in," Freed dismissed, tapping on the tablet, and lighting the door to the simulation room. "You should go now. Don't want to keep him waiting."

Laxus glanced towards Freed, not commenting on how obvious Freed was being in his dismissal. He walked through the door to see an ice rink empty of everything but one man, who was skating towards him. As Laxus skated towards his date, all he could seem to think of was how much better this was than Peter-Fucking-Pan.

His previous nerves about the date were the last thing on his mind.

---

"So here's the thing," Laxus said as he walked into the prep room. "I think you lied to me yesterday."

"Lied about what?" Freed asked.

"This is supposed to be the most successful, most advanced matchmaking system in the whole world, right? It's unmatched and has years of coding and advancements in technology inside of it, right?" He asked, and Freed nodded. "So it kinda seems a little bit bullshit that it wouldn't understand that a guy who's gay would only wanna go on a date with other guys. Feels like that's one of the basic things it should get right?"

"That would be a fair assumption."

"So, if that's right, then it seems unlikely that it'd just happen to me. Seems even weirder that it'd happen conveniently when there's a guy watching over the sessions to pick up the mistake," Laxus walked towards Freed, maintaining eye contact. "All seems coincidental."

"I suppose it does."

"Yeah, it does," Laxus nodded. "So why don't you admit that you're the reason it happened."

"If you already know, what would me admitting to it do?"

Laxus laughed. He didn't know what he had been expecting when he decided to confront Freed with his realisation, which had happened half way through the date with the guy, but he hadn't thought he'd get an honest admission without a moment's guilt.

He wasn't angry about what Freed had done. If he'd gone on the date wearing the costume then he'd certainly be pissed off, but in reality he'd only worn the stupid clothes for a minute or two, and Freed had quickly replaced them with what he was actually meant to wear. In reality it was just a weird thing that Freed had decided to do for a reason Laxus didn't quite understand.

"You really just wanted me to look like a jackass?"

"No, that was coincidental," Freed admitted. "A happy coincidence, mind you, but not the reason I did it. You clearly had gotten overwhelmed by the possibility that the system might actually work, and you were getting in your own head about it. You needed to be shocked out of your own self-doubts, and it was the easiest way to do it. A simple ice-skating date is hardly a challenge when you've just avoided something ridiculous that you'd never enjoy."

Oh, that was actually kinda nice. Weird, but nice. Not what he expected. It was almost flattering, in a way, that Freed had chosen to help him at all.

Of course he couldn't actually say that. He'd entered the room with a build-up of energy, having expected he would need to force the truth out of him by repeatedly asking him. He had been so certain that it would take their entire time together, and it would end with Freed laughing and Laxus trying to salvage his own pride back. He'd half thought that his costumed self would be edited into the fucking Wipeout video to further add to his embarrassment. A kind, if not slightly odd, action was hardly what he expected.

"So, is it actually automated?" He asked, instead of voicing his thanks because it was the only thing he could think of saying. "Or have you just been saying it is while doing everything yourself."

"No, it's automated, but I can override anything should I want to, which is what I did."

"Show me," Laxus demanded.

Freed nodded, moving slightly so Laxus could stand beside him in front of the tablet. Laxus stood behind him, trying to ignore the fact that this was the closest he'd been to Freed, and he could almost feel the heat radiating off him. It was hardly an appropriate thing to think, particularly when he was going to be on a date with another man damn soon.

He focused on the interface. He saw a quick flash of what his date would be – another meal with a guy – before Freed overrode the system. He pressed a few buttons and ended up controlling the clothing pod. He loaded the program up, and was given a large interface of different outfits, all with pictures to show what they'd look like.

"It's surprisingly user friendly," Freed said, pressing a random outfit and loading it into the system. "Now if you went inside, you'd be wearing that."

"So even I could do it, then?" Laxus asked with a grin, and Freed faltered beside him.

"I suppose."

"What you did for me was pretty nice of ya, but I still ended up like an idiot in a costume because you made me wear it," Laxus mused aloud, and Freed audibly sighed beside him. "So if you think you're getting away without me turning the tables on ya, you're an idiot."

"I probably should have expected that," Freed murmured to himself, and Laxus laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder, and gently guiding him towards the pod. Freed didn't fight him.

"You should have," Laxus agreed, pushing him into the pod before Freed could second guess anything.

He stood at the tablet a moment later, knowing Freed was watching him. He swiped down the hundreds of outfits before inspiration struck him. He pressed the button for the search bar, typed in his idea, looked over the ten or so options before picking the one that looked the most ridiculous. He added it into the system, pressed the apply button, and grinned as the pod flashed with light. A moment later, Freed was revealed, and Laxus burst into laughter.

Freed looked ridiculous. Dressed entirely in an old-fashioned jester's outfit, purple and yellow, with a stupid hat covered in golden bells. He looked at himself in the mirror, crossing his arms unimpressed as Laxus guffawed at him.

"Holy shit," Laxus cackled. "What kinda date would need you to be dressed like that?"

"The system needs to cover all bases," Freed grunted, expression showing annoyance, but Laxus felt like a smile wanted to break through when the bells on his hat jingled. "Can I have my own clothes back, please?"

"We've got a couple minutes before the sim starts, that's enough time to have fun," Laxus grinned, scrolling through the recommended costumes. He found one, applied it to the pod and activated it.

A moment later, Freed was dressed as a circus clown, and Laxus spluttered into laughter all over again.

"Very mature," Freed mumbled sarcastically, though his words were slightly nasally because of the large red nose he wore. "I'm glad you're having fun."

"I am," Laxus grinned, holding back sniggers as he took in Freed for a moment before he began scrolling again.

This was an opportunity that he couldn't waste, and he'd get the man in as many stupid costumes he could before the date began. He quickly settled on a vampire costume that looked equal parts cheap and ridiculous. Once he applied it, he was slightly disappointed to see that Freed managed to pull it off with startlingly good looks. It was twenty-fifty-five, nobody should be able to look good while wearing a cape.

"The fact you're not complaining about this kind of takes the fun out of it," Laxus teased. "You like dressing up or something?"

"Not particularly, but I'd rather you be doing this than stressing about your date," Freed shrugged, seemingly all too comfortable dressed like a vampire. "Night six has the highest success rate. I thought you'd be panicking, this is better."

Laxus paused for a moment, but didn't say anything. He instead found another costume, and grinned when he saw how little it suited Freed. A clean-cut man like Freed didn't make a good caveman.

He fiddled with the tablet for a little while longer, flicking between costumes. Freed managed to make them look better than he had any right to do, but some of them looked ridiculous and Laxus decided to enjoy those as much as he could. A small timer at the bottom of the screen told him the simulation would be ready within the minute, and in a scramble to further annoy Freed, Laxus quickly picked a random outfit from the selection of superhero costumes. He had applied it before the lights to the simulation lit up, and smirked.

The smirk fell when he looked towards Freed. He'd expected it to be a cheap thing covered in cushioned muscles. The reality was… snug. Too snug for Laxus sanity, truly. He'd expected that Freed was hot as well as handsome, but having it clarified wasn't helping things. The guy was muscular, had a tight body, and biceps that strained against the fabric. Laxus pointedly didn't look down. That would be too much.

And he managed to pull off a bright red cape too. How? Capes were stupid. Not hot.

"You've had your fun," Freed said, and Laxus found solace in looking at his face rather than his very, very visible body. "May I have my own clothes back before you start your date?"

"Why?" Laxus asked as he stepped away from the podium. "Can't you do it yourself while I'm in there?"

"No, I can't," Freed muttered, and Laxus grinned.

"That kinda sounds like a you problem," He smirked, and Freed's face darkened for a moment as he stepped out of the pod. His cape billowed behind him and Laxus smirked. He patted the man on the shoulder. "I don't wanna leave my date waiting, after all," Without any reason to, he actually winked at Freed. "Enjoy your walk home, Superman."

As he entered the sim, he was fairly certain those few seconds of seeing Freed blushing unabashedly would be better than any date the system had in store for him.

---

"Is there something wrong with me?"

The high of messing with Freed hadn't lasted throughout the date, and the feelings had been replaced with a maudlin sense of nothingness. That was a feeling Laxus couldn't seem to get rid of throughout the day, and had persisted as he walked into the preparation room for the last time.

On paper, his date was his perfect man. He was intelligent and suave, well lived and happy to talk about his passions. He was hot, had the long hair that Laxus had always favoured on men, and had been pretty good company. He knew the guy was into him, and he felt like he should have reciprocated the attraction. This man should have been ideal for him, and yet Laxus had felt like he was going through the motions. It made him wonder, if that man wasn't right for him, then who the hell would be?

"What makes you say that?" Freed asked, who had been hunched over his table, furiously tapping at it before he'd entered.

"You said most people match with their sixth date. The guy was nice, good looking, we had interests in common," Laxus muttered. "Didn't feel anything for him."

"That doesn't mean there's something wrong with you."

"Maybe," Laxus didn't believe it.

He'd wanted to be the person who ruined THE S0U1MATES SYSTEM'S reputation. He'd wanted to be the person who proved that soulmates were pointless because they didn't exist, and even if they did, a computer program wouldn't be the way to find them. He just hadn't realised that, if he did prove that to be true, it would feel like a punch to the gut.

The system had a complete success rate! Everyone who had ever been involved found love. It was fact. Laxus was apparently going to be the exception to that. He was the first unlovable person to enter the program, and he would be the idiot who couldn't get a boyfriend no matter what.

It was shit. It was just fucking shit.

"Laxus, they're just dates," Freed said softly, placing a hand on Laxus shoulder in a comforting gesture. It felt like fire against him. "We dress them up with fancy technology, and we can explain the science in a way that makes it sound impressive, but a date is just a date. When you get two people together, they can fall in love within a moment, but they could also hate one another. That can happen to anyone, no matter what the statistics say."

"The statistics ain't got it wrong with anyone else."

"And you don't know that they have with you. People wait for the seventh night, and it works out for them," Freed assured him, the hand now gently massaging him. It was electric, and Laxus could almost allow himself to be thrilled by it. "And even if the man isn't the person you end up with, you'll find someone at some point. Don't put this on some kind of pedestal, all you'll be doing is meeting a man for the first time."

"The guy's meant to be my soulmate," Laxus scoffed. "It ain't exactly like meeting for coffee."

"It is what you make it, Laxus," Freed placated him. "Not matching with him isn't a failure of personality. It's just a thing that has happened, and it doesn't shape you."

"I guess," Laxus muttered, not exactly confident in his own words.

"You will find someone Laxus," Freed said firmly. "You're fun, intelligent, confident, good looking. A man is out there, and he will find you. Just give him time."

Freed didn't say anything else, and instead patted Laxus on the shoulder and returned to his tablet to do whatever it was he did. Laxus looked down at the floor, his nerves and self-pity only slightly at bay as he tried to agree with what Freed had said. He had come into the program wanting to prove that it was false, and he should have known this would be the outcome.

Focusing on his own problems, he didn't notice the slight change in posture from Freed. His eyes had widened, and he was tapping somewhat manically at the tablet. His teeth were gritting together and his heart hammering. A moment later, he stood up, and Laxus frowned when he saw how tense he looked.

"Don't overreact to this," Freed demanded, voice too calm. "This is a glitch, nothing else. The system has flaws, this is apparently one of them."

"What?"

He took a moment before speaking again. "Apparently you haven't been matched with someone tonight," Freed spoke quietly, almost under his breath, and Laxus felt as though he had been shot. Freed was quick to speak before Laxus could spiral. "This is the program not being able to work as intended. It is not a reflection of you. Do you understand me?"

"Fucks sake," Laxus growled, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck!"

"It's not you, Laxus," Freed tried to tell him, but Laxus was walking towards the door. He needed to leave, to get out of this damn place as quickly as he could. Why the hell had he gone there? He was an idiot. He shouldn't have gone. "Wait. Laxus, don't leave."

"Why the hell shouldn't I?"

"Because I don't want you to," Freed said quickly. "I don't want you to feel like you're… whatever it is your feeling. Because whatever it is, whatever you're telling yourself, is false."

"How the hell do you know?"

"I've watched every date of yours, Laxus. I know you, and you are a good man, and anyone would be happy to have you," He insisted, stepping towards Laxus, and placing a hand on his forearm. "If I'm honest, I found myself somewhat jealous that those men got to be with you. I'm sure I could find hundreds of men who would feel exactly the same. Truth be told, I had to stop watching you talking with that little blonde ass last night. It's unprofessional, I know, but it must be said. You are a man who, one day, will be adored and you will deserve it."

Laxus scoffed. "Sure."

"You're incredible, Laxus," Freed stepped closer, placing a hand on Laxus' cheek. Laxus blushed at the action despite himself. "And if this program has made you think otherwise, even for a moment, then it is pointless. Do you understand me?"

"You think I'm incredible?" Laxus asked, voice a little raspy as he looked down at Freed.

"I do."

"Then do something about it," Laxus whispered because he needed Freed to do this.

And he did.

Freed leant forward without hesitation, tilting up his head and slowly, cautiously pushed his lips against Laxus'. His hand remained on Laxus' cheek, and slowly he started to move his lips in tandem with Laxus', opening his mouth slightly as he pushed himself up against him. Laxus wrapped an arm around Freed's waist, and felt himself clinging to the man as if he were a lifeline.

The kiss could only last a moment, and when Laxus pulled away and was met with the slightly flushed, kiss swollen expression of Freed in his arms, all of his doubts seemed to flow away. This was more important.

"Damn," He whispered, and Freed breathed out a laugh.

"Yes," He agreed. "Damn."

"Wanted to do that from when I first saw ya," Laxus admitted.

"And I you," Freed confessed, smiling. "I must admit, watching you with those men became somewhat torturous by the end."

"Would've stopped if you told me," Laxus shrugged.

"Then you might not have come back, and I didn't want that any more than I wanted to see you match with someone," Freed chuckled.

They stayed in their embrace for a moment, Laxus gently stroking Freed's lower back with his fingers in a slow and comforting gesture. Freed was still cupping his cheek, and it was a delightful sensation that Laxus didn't want to break. He would have to at some point, and he found himself at a loss of what to do next. For a moment he considered asking Freed to set up some kind of simulation for them both, but he felt he'd had enough of the damn place for now.

"You wanna maybe go somewhere and get something to eat?" He asked, and Freed pulled back slightly with a smile.

"That'd be nice," Freed agreed, though then smirked. "Though are you sure it's not too boring? Wouldn't you rather ice skating? Or maybe a boxing match? Or an obstacle course that you keep failing at?"

"Don't be a dick," Laxus laughed, pulling himself off of Freed. "Or I'll drag you back to the pod and you'll have to go to dinner dressed as batman. Dunno how happy a restaurant is gonna be with the Dark Night's cape falling in the soup."

"I'd rather avoid that. My roommate already thinks me odd after what you did yesterday, I don't need anyone else agreeing with him," Freed laughed, and Laxus grinned at the confession. He wrapped an arm around Freed's waist as they began to leave the room. "Though, if I could get you in the Peter Pan costume again I couldn't complain. Those tights were rather flattering."

"Didn't realise you were lookin'," Laxus smirked.

"I was more subtle than you were, then," Freed grinned, and Laxus laughed.

As they left the room, the simulation unused, neither man noticed the screen of the table lighting up with an updated message.

Laxus Dreyar.

Profile = Matched.

Soulmate Level = 100%

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

She [6]

Warnings: non-consent sex (series); masturbation

This is dark! Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Series Synopsis: Steve Rogers’ life is turned upside down by a reporter.

Chapter Summary: Steve starts to plan ahead.

Note: Yesterday was pretty rough personally but I’m working on my writers list at the moment so that should be out next week! As for my own writing, I’m not sure. But thanks to everyone who is reading along

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Steve

Steve didn’t get home until well past midnight. He’d lost her after the bar and she beat him back to her apartment. She was still awake when he got there. Wide awake. Restless. She sat on the couch and fiddled with her phone, then the remote, then fidgeted again. She was shaken by her little foray into the underbelly of the city.

He was almost amused to think of it. How she must have felt. Was she mortified? Intrigued? Maybe both. Like him. When he realised what she had been searching for, what the woman she’d been talking to was, he was surprised and even more interested.

When she flashed her press pass, he realised why. This was her new story. Had she so quickly forgotten about him? Let him fall in the gutter as she chases down her next prey.

Home, alone at last, he found himself in a fitful sleep. He laid atop his covers and tossed and turned. In the span of a couple days, his life had so completely changed. He was startled to realise he had so easily forgotten about his work. She was the crux of his life now. The very centerpiece of his new existence.

When he finally dozed off, he woke only shortly after. It was still dark and he was uncomfortable as he laid flat on his back. He was hard. Painfully hard. As his pajama bottoms rubbed against his cock, he flinched. He sat up and took a breath. He couldn’t.

He closed his eyes and he saw her. Sitting on the subway, sprawled across her couch, oblivious in the depths of her deep porcelain tub. He fell back and hissed. His hand twitched beside his hip.

“It’s okay to be lonely.” She whispered in his ear. “Natural, even.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and his breath shuddered.

“I’m the only who sees you for what you are.” He felt her breath, as gentle as the breeze. “You showed me that day who you truly are. You’re human, like all of us… imperfect.”

He shook his head and felt the tickled along his pelvis. Felt the elastic of his pants lift and the soft touch of flesh against his arousal. Fingers wrapped around him and began to stroke up and down. Tortuously deliberate. He bared his teeth as the motion carried.

“No…” He murmured. “No… it’s…”

He bit his lip as her hand sped up. As his muscles tensed and all the warmth in his body gathered at that one spot. He felt it mounting within him. The years of pent up resent and wanting. Those things he never let himself feel. His cock hurt so much. She worked him even faster.

He came and cried out in surprise. It turned to a growl as the strokes slowed and he was eased through the waves of sheer pleasure. He was panting as he opened his eyes. He was alone. It was his hand around his cock, his cum cooling along his fingers. He pushed his head into the pillow and groaned.

He was tired, then. Exhausted. But he had to clean himself up and forget about this. Forget about her.

He sat up and held out his wet hand. He stood and used his elbow to flip the switch on his way into the bathroom. He passed the broken sink and went to the tub. He turned the faucet and shoved his hand under the warm water. He stopped the tap and shook the droplets off his hands as he stood.

He turned and looked in the mirror. He was flushed and his irises were pinpoints. He didn’t look like himself. He grabbed the hand towel from the bar that hung on the front of the counter. He dried his hand, his pajamas damp. He shimmied out of them and let them gather on the floor. He shed his shirt and stood naked, his eyes roved the thick muscles of his chest and arms.

“You know what I am,” He said. “You will know what I am.”

🖋️

The basement was the only part of the townhouse that remained unfinished. Steve hadn’t been bothered, he’d intended it for storage and it worked well for that. But now he needed all this shit cleared out and he had a lot to do after that.

He resigned himself to a day by himself. He’d let her be as he started his work. And he knew if he kept on as he was, something might fall out of place. Something within him. He needed to focus on something else, just for a little bit. A day wasn’t very long at all.

The leftover drywall could be used still, the insulation, too. He’d have to grab some of the thick padding he’d seen at the hardware store. Two layers to be safe. That old washroom would have to be restored. The toilet was forgotten; the tank crooked and the lid totally gone. It barely flushed when he pushed on the handle. He’d make do.

After all that, he’d have even more to worry about. A bed would fit there where the boxes were and he could put a hook in the ceiling there along the beam. He wove between the stacks of dusty possessions. It would look bigger once he did away with the clutter. More than enough room.

He went and rented a unit downtown to store all his shit. He barely avoided the press as he pulled out but lost them soon after. He made several trips back and forth. It was afternoon when he started sweeping. He cleaned up the grim basement as best he could. It was almost evening then. 

He sat on the steps and took a breath. He looked up the stairs and back down. He’d need a thicker door, with a lock. That would need to be soundproofed too. Shit, he had to figure out a way to get everything he needed inside without drawing the attention of the cameras.

He glanced around as he stood and dusted off his hands. He left the broom against the wall and went upstairs. He washed his hands and pulled on his hoodie. It was dark. He cut through the back as had become his habit and headed down the little pathway that skirted the row of yards.

It would be easier to drive himself but the press knew his car by sight. He wasn’t that stupid. Besides, a man on the subway, hardly suspicious. She’d already be home or so he hoped. At her stop, he slowed his gait. As he came up on the street, he took a deep gulp of the night air.

He scaled the escape to his usual spot. Her window was dark but for the flicker of her television. She laid in its glare and stretched her arms over the end of the couch as her feet rested on the other. She had fallen asleep. He could tell by the even measure of her breath as he listened through the wall and past the buzz of the small speakers.

His hand slipped beneath the pane and he looked down at it. The window was open just a little to let in the cool breeze. He lifted his head and turned his palm up to grasp the wooden frame. He pushed just a bit and cringed at the grind. He stopped and watched her. She didn’t move.

He continued until the window was open to its limit. He stooped through. He was almost too big for it. He wiggled onto the other side and let himself down onto the floor carefully. He nearly kicked over the shelf just beside the window. He stood and glanced around the apartment. It smelled like roses, the way she had when he’d welcomed her into his house.

He crept closer, pausing after each step to listen. Her snores were soft and beckoned to him. He stopped just behind the back of the couch and looked down at her in the wavering shadows cast by the television. She wore a long tee shirt that read GAP across the chest; a small hole along the neckline and another near her thigh. He could see a hint of her panties just below.

He winced as he felt the blood rush from his head and he felt himself growing hard. He shook and gripped the couch. He wanted to just do it. He could. Easily. A hand over her mouth. She’d be terrified and she would know who it was she had crossed. She would realise what she’d done to him and he would make her know it was all her fault.

She turned onto her side suddenly and he ducked behind the couch. He heard a sniff as her snores quieted and she grumbled. He heard her moving around and the tv flicked off as her shadow stood on the other side of the sofa. He held his breath as her footsteps stumbled away into the bedroom. She didn’t even notice the noise of the city as it blew in through the open window.

He was too afraid to move. Ten minutes before he found his strength. Her snores resumed in the next room and he kept on all fours as he crawled around the couch. He followed her even heartbeat to her room and her arm hung down as she slept on her stomach. The curve of her ass was limned in moonlight through the space between her patched curtains.

He neared the bed and just watched her. Sat on the floor in a trance. So clueless, so weak to him. He got to his feet and waited. She didn’t wake. He smirked and neared. Still, she slept. He grabbed the handle of the night table just beside her bed and slowly forced it open. Pens, old cards, nothing spectacular. Disappointed, he closed it and inched away.

He backed away, stopped by her boxy dresser. He looked down and then back at her. He leaned on the side of the wood and carefully jostled opened the top drawer. A pair of satiny panties he shoved in his pocket without thinking and he felt deeper down. His fingers latched onto something firm and long.

He angled the large dildo out of her dresser and raised a brow. He’d seen these things online thanks to Sam’s dumb jokes. A small arm jutted out and curved parallel to the rest of the toy. There was a small button embedded beneath the silicone. He turned it in his hand and then tucked it into his belt and pulled his hoodie down over the oblong bulge. 

He shut the door and retreated entirely. That would be the first piece of his puzzle. A token to know her by until he could return it to her. The thought made him shiver as he made his way back to the window. He paused and took one last glance. 

He wanted to stay, wanted to go back in her room and wake her with the gentle buzz of the toy. Just between her legs, his hand between her shoulder blades as he held her down. No, don’t look at me. Just feel me. He took a sharp breath and kicked his leg over the window sill.

“Soon,” He whispered. “I promise.”

[swan--writes]

A Very Mr. Finn Christmas

There was something about ‘Dewey Christmas’ that just sounded...wrong. Anyway, Merry Belated Christmas to those who celebrate! ❤💚

Warnings: none

Words: 1,936

The year had been a bastard. First was your dog dying, then Dewey getting sent home for last school year because of the pandemic, then the spike in visibility of police brutality and the protests. The summer had been brutally hot, you weren’t working, you and Dewey had had to quarantine separately for more than a month and neither of you had been able to see any of your friends. You spent so much time on the couch at your parents’ place upstate before your partner eventually joined you, once his own lease had run out. Despite both of your relief at Dewey getting out of the city, that had also been when he found out for certain that he wouldn’t be able to see his kids in person. California had caught fire, one of your grandparents died of lung cancer and had a funeral you couldn’t attend because of COVID, and another was all set to spend Christmas in the hospital.

Yes, the year had indeed been a bastard, but thankfully, it was almost a dead bastard.

Since your parents had broken down and gone to visit your aunt, you and Dewey had the large house to yourselves for two weeks. The two of you had been pleasantly surprised: despite both needing a healthy amount of alone time, you still weren’t sick of each other. Not only that, but your relationship had fully survived the year. If anything, you were closer now. You still loved his soft eyes, the give of his chubby stomach when he held you, the way his arms felt like your own personal radiators.

Perhaps you shouldn’t have been surprised. Dewey Finn was the kindest man you knew, and the best partner you could have asked for. As immature and rambunctious as he could be, he was also sweet and soft and – though he would never admit it – quite sensitive. Dewey hadn’t seemed to want to talk about it, but he was pretty clearly heartbroken that he couldn’t see his students face-to-face this year. He had held most of his frustration in, since he knew how much it bothered you that you couldn’t work at all with the pandemic happening. Still, you could hear him grumbling in the office your parents had set up for him.

Now, at Christmas, you were trying to find ways to make the season special for your partner. By the last week, you were holding yourself back from writing out a literal Festivities Schedule. You had made a plague year Christmas playlist, trying your best to channel him as you arranged it. It was far from perfect, but you thought he appreciated it.

Your dad’s studio was full of art supplies, so you and Dewey painted ornaments. Neither of you were particularly skilled, but he didn’t care, so you decided you didn’t care either. Fortunately, you had thought to wear clothes you could get paint on because, naturally, it had taken all of ten minutes for your painting session to turn into a full on paint battle to the death. You were fairly certain Dewey had started it, though he insisted on his innocence. Either way, you wound up with Shining Stars gold on your nose and Dark Winter Skies blue all over your sleeve. Dewey got a streak of Santa Red on his arm and splashes of Sparkling Snow glittery white across his shirt and pants. You were sure you still had some glitter in your hair from when he had tackled you and, in a gruff Muppet voice, insisted that you had turned him into the Glitter Monster. Dewey had tickled you until your tears of laughter had soaked into his shirt.

Eventually, you thought to tap out and, breathlessly, you kissed his hand in surrender. Dewey had kissed your nose in return, and come away with a smudge of gold paint across his lips. So he left to wash his face, and you left to make Christmas cookies, and he joined you in the kitchen. You spend the rest of the night playing Mary Lambert’s new holiday EP and singing at each other, harmonizing at all the best parts. He, of course, had no patience for ‘Ave Maria,’ and took the opportunity to wrap his arms around you – getting yet more glitter all over you – and gently sway with you.

The next day was when the snowstorm hit. Your parents’ plow guy cleared the driveway (twice), but you and Dewey were responsible for the walkway. You woke up early to shovel first thing in the morning, despite Dewey’s unconscious arm trying to prevent you from getting out of bed. Peeking through the curtains, you almost let him.

One hour after you went back inside, you could hardly tell that you had shoveled at all.

The snow was lighter on the walkway, however, when you went back outside with Dewey to shovel again. You got the sense that he was enjoying it far too much, and you wondered if he had ever had to shovel before. You imagined that growing up in NYC didn’t leave many opportunities, but you didn’t ask. In fact, you were especially quiet all day.

Finally, when you lost power, Dewey asked if you were alright. It wasn’t until he asked that you realized that the seasonal depression had snuck back into your brain. Dewey was predictably wonderful, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to hold back tears. Your partner stood back while you lit up the stone fireplace in your mother’s library, then rolled you up in a blanket on the floor, scattering a few pillows around you.

Dewey heated apple cider over the fire. He picked out a small copy of A Christmas Carol, bound in soft red leather, with gold leaf decorating the cover. It had your mother’s name in it, and just below that, yours in shaky lettering. That did make you cry, but only for a moment. Dewey leaned back against your legs and read the first stave to you while you drank your cider. You took over for him after that, for the next stave. Since you were both musicians with decent vocal stamina, you managed to get through the entire book before you had to call it a night.

When you woke up the next day, it was Christmas Eve. The power was back on, the decorations were hung, the tree was decorated, the presents were wrapped, and the cookies were soft. All that was left was to prep dinner for Christmas Day and dance in the kitchen. As far as Dewey was concerned, there was no type of dancing better than kitchen dancing, and you had to agree. Your parents’ kitchen had plenty of open space, and you could twirl each other around or slide in your socks without running into counters or corners.

The plow guy came by to do one more pass over the driveway and throw down some salt. You donned your mask for the first time all week to bring a box of Christmas cookies out to his truck. It surprised you, how thrilled you were to speak to a new human.

When you returned to Dewey, it still felt as cozy as ever. He jumped around to what almost felt like sacrilegious renditions of Christmas songs, including – though not limited to – a truly perplexing version of ‘All I Want for Christmas is You’ by a supremely emo band from the early 2000s. Dewey had insisted it be added to your playlist, and who were you to argue?

He brought out his guitar while you made the sweet potatoes. You were particular about your grandmother’s sweet potato recipe. When he rolled up his sleeves to make pie dough, you hopped up onto the counter, sufficiently out of the way. Dewey wouldn’t give you his exact recipe, though considering his tendency to use bowls instead of measuring cups, you weren’t entirely certain that he knew his exact recipe.

By the time you were both finished with all of the dishes, it was pitch dark out. There was butter underneath his fingernails and French bread underneath yours, flour on both of your shirts, and tension in both of your backs. You fell asleep long before midnight.

The next morning, you heard Dewey’s voice before you saw his face.

“Hey,” he said. His lips brushed against your ear.

You groaned and snuggled deeper under your Christmas quilt.

“Hey,” your partner said, more insistently. He squeezed your waist, and you groaned again but opened your eyes.

“Yes?” you muttered.

Dewey nosed at the skin below your ear. “Merry Christmas.”

Your eyes sprung open now, and you sat up. “It’s Christmas.”

“Yeah.” You could hear the smile in his voice. He must have been awake for a while now.

“Merry Christmas.” You looked at him then. There was a cold gray light filtering into the room, and you could see snow falling gently through a gap in the curtains across from the bed. Dewey’s hair was mussed, and a few waves hung in his face. His stubble was coming in full force. His tee shirt was wrinkled. There was still some Christmas Tree green clinging to the edges of his fingernails.

“What are you lookin’ at?” he asked you playfully.

You suppressed an eye roll and settled for tapping his nose. “You, wise guy. You’re cozy.”

“I’m cozy?”

“M-hm.”

“Can a person look cozy?”

“Well obviously, ‘cause you do. You’re cute.” You tapped his nose again, twice, very lightly. Dewey scrunched up the bridge of his nose, but didn’t lose the soft joy in his expression. “Oh! I have something for you.” You reached blindly for your phone, feeling around on the bedside table while Dewey straightened up.

“Didn’t we set out all our presents?”

“Yeah…” you dragged out the word. “This was sorta last minute.” Your partner waited while you found your phone and opened up your photo gallery. When you found the video you wanted, you opened it and held up the phone between yourself and Dewey.

“…baby?” he said when he saw what was on the screen,

“Yeah?”

“What is this?”

“I may or may not have conspired with your students behind your back.”

In the video, Summer was yelling at his band, trying valiantly to get them all into some sort of order. It seemed to be working. The students seemed to be in their band room, but most of them wore masks. The only kids who were unmasked were Dewey’s singers, and they were spaced apart from one another.

“Is that legal?” Dewey asked. You elbowed him, and he laughed. It was a quiet laugh, though. Almost astonished.

“Hi, Mr. Finn!” Summer said in the video, now facing the camera. “We wanted to do something for you, after all your hard work during these times. So we–”

“She means your–”

“Freddy! Shut it!” Summer snapped. After a short breath, she turned to the camera once again. “We put a little something together for you.” With that, Summer practically touch-stepped offscreen.

When you glanced over at Dewey, he was watching you.

“What?” you laughed.

“I love you.” You heard cymbals playing through your phone’s speaker.

“Shh, it’s starting!” You snapped your attention back to the screen. Dewey shook his head, but followed your gaze.

“I love you too,” you muttered quickly, as the first chords of ‘Faith Noel’ began to spring from Lawrence’s keyboard.

Outside, the snow fell softly to the ground. Inside, beside Dewey, you were warm, and he was cozy, and he loved you. What more could you ask for on Christmas?

.

.

Please reblog, if ye are so moved.

Tags List: @skiddyyo @a-okay-rj @geeky-marie @darkblueeyedperson @hannah-de-lioncourt @ironmansuucks @missihart23 @ballerinafairyprincess @thewolfisapartofmysoul