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ayyy-pee · 3 months

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Chapter 11 - Kickflip

Discord 18+ - Twitter

Pairing: Suguru Geto x Female Reader, Choso Kamo x Female Reader

Summary: You and Choso take things to the next level.

Genre: Skater AU

Chapter Warning: Smut,P in V Sexy Time, Cunnilingus, Phone Sex, Profanity, Mutual Masturbation?, Masturbation, Unprotected Sex (don't be like them - WRAP IT UP), Creampie (at least we're on bc), Possessive Sex, Possessive Behavior

A/N: thanks for your patience on this one! i took my time because i REALLY wanted to do this chapter justice. it's been a LONG journey to get here. this chapter ended up being JUST under 12k words omg. I hope yall enjoy!

When Choso pulls back, you find yourself chasing him, a small whine falling from your lips before you can even try to stop it. It’s pathetic really, how eager you are to be close to him after just this short time apart. He’s traveled for competition longer than this and yet, now that you’ve gotten a small dose of what life would be like without Choso within your reach, you’re positive that you never want to experience it again.

He chuckles softly, thumb caressing your cheek as you stare up at him. Those beautiful brown eyes of his seem to almost glow in the dark, hypnotizing you. You're not sure if you’d ever gotten lost in anyone's eyes the way you do Choso's. You’re so lost in them you barely notice when his lips begin to move, calling your name quietly. You only snap out of your daze when Choso cups your jaw in his hand and leans forward to press a soft kiss to your cheek.

“So…” He looks away for a moment. Like he’s wondering if it’s worth asking. But it must be because he asks anyway, “how did the conversation go?”

Ah, right. With everything that had happened tonight, and the intensity of it all, you had forgotten you let Choso know you would be heading to Suguru’s to talk.

Earlier that evening…

You’d called Choso before texting Suguru that you were heading his way. He was a little taken aback since the first thing that had left your big mouth after Choso said “hello” was “I’m on my way to Suguru’s place”.

“Huh…” was all Choso could muster.

You quickly scrambled to recover. It probably wasn’t the best idea to start off your first conversation in days by telling him you were heading to the apartment of the man he despises.

“Sorry! What I meant to say is I’m heading over to Suguru’s…to end things. For good.”

“Oh.”

The silence hung heavily between the both of you and you wondered if maybe you’d gotten the wrong idea from the voice message Choso had left you. Perhaps when he said he wanted the chance to sit down and talk, he truly meant he simply wanted to talk, and maybe end this messy affair you had dragged him into. And if that were the case, could you really blame him?

“He’s here by the way,” Choso mutters, pulling you out of your anxious thoughts. “At the park…” It’s then that you can hear the distant sound of wheels on pavement, so familiar to you after all this time.

“Oh, that’s awkward.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, though it’s only been some days, you hear that cute little puff of air that you know as the sound of Choso trying to hold in a laugh. It makes you smile. You wonder if he’s smiling with you.

“Will you be okay going alone?” He asks.

Would you? You were nervous, of course. You’d become accustomed to having Suguru in your life regardless of how awful he was. But you had no doubt in your mind that this needed to happen. In order to secure your future, in order to show the man on the other end of this call that you were serious about him, you needed to do this – alone.

You inhale deeply, trying to steel your nerves. “Yeah. I– It’s gonna suck, but I’m ready to let this go…to let him go.”

You hear Choso hum distantly on the other end, followed by a light tapping noise just before you feel your phone vibrate. Oddly enough, it’s a text from Choso.

ChoCho: It’s getting weird. He thinks I don’t see him watching me from across the park.

ChoCho: I’m gonna hang up. Good luck over there. Come meet me here when you’re done? We can talk.

The line goes dead…

You shake your head, bringing yourself back to the present. Choso’s question echoes in your thoughts. “How did the conversation go?”

“Not well,” you finally answer. “But that’s not my problem anymore.”

To this, Choso hums. “No, not anymore. Are you alright, though?”

Choso’s voice is gentle when he speaks, concern evident in his tone. He’s still holding your cheek, eyes scanning your face and your hand comes up to hold his wrist. You nod.

He is so perfect. You wish you had realized it sooner. You would have saved yourself, but more importantly Choso so much pain.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just…” Your words are failing you now, at the worst moment and you bite down on your lip as you try to gather your thoughts. Choso waits patiently for you, as always, and it makes you bite down just a bit harder. You know you don’t deserve him. You’re the lucky one here; the real winner between this fucked up love triangle you’ve been forcing everyone into over the last few months.

His dark, piercing eyes bore into yours, and the kindness and care you see in them makes you tear up. The tears prickle along your waterline and you almost want to throw your arms around his neck so you can bury your face and hide your tears there.

“I’m so sorry, Choso,” you breathe shakily. He holds your gaze steadily. He’s always steady. Never wavering. The security he provides you only makes you more emotional and you have to swallow down the sob that's threatening to come. “Really…I can’t even begin to tell you how fucking sorry I am.”

“You have no reason to be sorry.”

“Stop, I do!” You argue, voice rising. He always gives you grace, always finds a way to make it seem like you weren’t a piece of shit stringing him along. He’s only ever truly been upset with you once, that you know of - the day of the photoshoot. It was the first time you’d seen Choso lose his composure, really show how upset he was with you and this whole situation.

And while you want to tell him to yell at you, stop excusing your actions, to be angry with you – because honestly, he should be furious with you – you know better than anyone by now that Choso wears his heart on his sleeve. What he feels in the moment, you’ll see, without hesitation. So, you inhale deeply, calming yourself before you continue. The last thing you want to do is turn this into some big spectacle, although there’s no one around to actually witness it this late at night.

“I’ve been dragging you along all this time, Choso. And you…you’ve been so patient and so kind and understanding when you didn’t have to be. I’m just…so sorry.”

Choso purses his lips as he takes your hand in his and squeezes softly. “I chose to stick around because I wanted to.” He brings your hand up to his mouth, presses his lips gently to your palm with a sweet kiss. “Because you were worth it.” Another kiss to your hand. “I just needed you to realize you were worth it, too.”

Your vision blurs, hot tears falling from your eyes and rolling down your cheeks. You don’t want to cry in front of Choso. You don’t deserve to cry in front of him, but when you left Suguru’s and rushed to the park, you didn’t have much hope. You fully expected Choso to tell you he was done with you, that this was over.

You’d expected a “thanks for ending it with that loser, but it’s too late”. And you would have had to swallow that and accept it. It would have simply been your karma. So to be sitting here with Choso who sprinkles kisses along your skin…Well, the overwhelming thought of the night ending very differently has your emotions running wild.

Heat rises to your cheeks as you meet Choso’s gaze. His eyes have hardly left yours for a moment, even as he places delicate little pecks to your wrist, up your forearm. He leans forward, lips continuing their path as he kisses your shoulder. You tilt your head to the side so he has the space to trail those sweet kisses up your neck. And then he’s running his lips along your jaw, up your cheek.

The skatepark is empty, the only evidence of anyone around being the soft sighs from Choso and your quiet gasps when his lips touch the spots he knows make your knees weak.

And even in this wide open space, the air inside the little bubble that you and Choso reside in already feels thick with desire. With the way Choso licks at the most sensitive areas of your neck, groans quietly against your skin, you have an idea of where this night is soon to be headed.

You’re ready.

“Cho–”

You don’t have the opportunity to finish, the sound of Choso’s broken name falling uselessly between you as Choso seals his mouth over yours. Every kiss is tender, almost hesitant. It’s careful.

Just so Choso.

And that’s all that’s on your mind; the incredible man before you – Choso…

…who cups your cheek so gently as he pulls away and he asks…

“Will you…” A whisper into the kiss, and your brain is still stuck on Choso…

…whose soft lips caress yours again, just for a moment before he speaks once more…

“Come…”

You’ll go anywhere with him. Anywhere with Choso…

…who kisses you again, more passionately this time.

“Back to my place?”

And you nod without delay, because you have only a single thought rattling around in that head of yours…and it’s Choso.

- - - - - -

The air seems to have only gotten thicker between the two of you.

Choso had offered to follow you home, waited for you to pack your things and take you back to his place. It was then that the mood truly began to shift. From the moment you’d slid into the passenger seat of Choso’s car, it became a matter of whether or not you and Choso would even make it through the threshold of his home without tearing the other’s clothes off, the unspoken anticipation slowly eating at both your patience.

After placing your bag in the back of his car, Choso leaned over to grab the seat belt and buckle you in.

It wasn’t as if that was the first time Choso had done that for you. He always made sure to get the door for you, strap you in, ensure your safety. But this time, as Choso pulled the belt around your body, hand lingering so close to your chest, there was this spark of electricity between you that felt so intense, you could swear you heard it buzzing throughout the vehicle, felt it tingling along your skin. You know Choso felt it, too. You could see the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, and how he was careful not to touch you when he quickly secured the belt around you and clicked you in before putting the car in gear and driving off.

It happened once more when you finally pulled up to Choso’s house. Too in your own head and not paying attention, you’d opened your car door without looking only to run straight into Choso’s hard chest. He caught you easily, both arms wrapping around your waist to hold you steady while your palms rested flat against his pecks.

And there was that buzz again, radiating heavily between the two of you. The spark had always been there between you and Choso. This low, constant hum that kept steady. But tonight…tonight, this electricity felt dangerous, in the most exciting way.

You watch Choso’s gaze drift to your mouth, watch how his tongue pokes in his cheek. He’s kissed you already tonight, but he seems hesitant now. His hands grip onto the fabric of your clothes like he wants to pull you into him but he’s resisting the urge.

Maybe he thinks you’re not ready to take the next step with him. Or maybe he’s trying to take things slow for his own sake. Knowing Choso, he probably doesn’t want to give you the wrong idea. Doesn’t want you to think he only asked you to stay over because he’s trying to sleep with you. Another thing you really like about him, but you don’t give a shit about that right now.

Your heart is racing, pounding against your ribcage in anticipation. You’ve only got eyes for this man and you want him to wreck you. And it’s apparent he wants to do the same. You see the desire in his eyes, the way his pupils are so dilated his eyes are practically black as he stares down at you.

Your pulse quickens the longer you match his gaze. Then you finally speak, a hushed “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“Yeah?” Choso asks. You feel his hands tracing up and down your spine and your skin ignites with goosebumps.

“Yes.”

“And what exactly were you thinking?” His voice comes out rougher, raspier than normal and it only sets the small fire in your core ablaze.

“That I couldn’t wait to be with you…be alone with you.”

“Hmm.” His tongue slides along his bottom lip and your eyes snap down to the motion.

You want to kiss him again, taste his tongue on yours and have him taste you.

“Do you want me?” He questions. His hand slowly slides down to rest on the small of your back and just his touch has you so turned on you have to bite your lip to keep from moaning out into the night.

“So badly, Choso,” you confess. Choso watches you squirm beneath his touch, trying to contain yourself. He’s trying to do the same, but he’s slowly losing the battle.

Every time you speak, every time you peer up at him with those pretty eyes and even prettier lips, he’s that much closer to losing himself to you. And he knows he will lose himself in you once he has you completely. Your taste has haunted Choso since spending your first night together. The memory of your mouth on him has taken over his thoughts more times than he can count. He daydreams of you constantly.

He needs you.

Choso releases his hold on you, then reaches into the back seat of his car and grabs your overnight bag. “We should get inside then.” He tells you. He swiftly turns around and you practically run after him, following him towards the entrance.

When you reach the front door, Choso lays his hand on the doorknob. Instead of turning it, he pauses briefly, then turns to you. And his stare shoots straight to your core. It reminds you of the very first time you’d ever been intimate with each other. Your cheeks warm and your heart thrums excitedly in your chest. You don’t dare look away.

Time seems to stand still, even as Choso pushes the door to his home open. Even as he takes your hand in his and lifts it to his lips, eyes still locked onto yours.

And your head swims once again with nothing but thoughts of Choso…

…who has never been anything but patient, kind and gentle with you…

…which is why it shocks you just a bit when Choso roughly slams his bedroom door, pinning you between it and his large body. His lips capture yours hungrily, greedily, desperately. Like kissing you is what keeps his heart beating. Your thoughts are foggy, Choso the only thing on your mind. You feel lightheaded from the intoxicating way Choso kisses you right now. You think you’ll float away if he stops.

He breaks the kiss, groaning when you take his bottom lip in your teeth and suck lightly. “Can I ask you something?” He mutters when you release him. There’s a crimson hue that has now appeared on Choso’s cheeks and spread to the tips of his ears. It’s so cute.

You make a mental note that it seems when Choso is feeling shy or nervous, that’s where he blushes the hardest.

“Anything,” you answer easily.

Choso bites down on his lip, looking you over. When his eyes settle on yours again, there’s something different in them, something hungry. His gaze falls back to your mouth and your breath hitches in your throat when you feel Choso gently press his thumb to your lips. You hear his sharp intake of breath, thumb gently caressing along your bottom lip.

Then he kisses you, his thumb still on your lips, like he’s so desperate to taste you that he couldn’t be bothered to move it. It’s quick, one or two pecks and then he’s back to absentmindedly watching his thumb stroke along your mouth again.

Every kiss is becoming more and more dizzying, has your heart beating so fast, and so hard that you think if Choso leans just an inch closer, he’ll be able to hear it.

And if only you knew that if you leaned just an inch closer, you would hear his own heart clawing at his ribcage as he asks, “Are you mine now?”

Your hands find Choso’s chest and you ball the fabric between your fists, confident when you answer him. “Yes.”

And it’s true; you’re his.

But your answer doesn’t satisfy the man before you just yet. You see it in the frown line that forms between his brows, in the way his eyes stare into yours, searching.

“I need you to say it,” he demands. His large hands grip your waist now, and he’s leaning forward to press his forehead to yours, eyes drifting shut as he inhales deeply. “I need to hear you say that you’re mine now…just mine. Nobody else’s…” Choso’s hold tightens, only slightly. “Because you have no idea how much I want you right now. I want…” He pauses, taking another deep breath. “No, I need you to be mine. I won’t share you again.”

Your pulse picks up, the need in Choso’s voice only making your heart slam faster, if that’s even possible. You loop your arms around Choso’s neck, pulling him down just enough for your lips to touch. You want him to hear it when you say it. You want him to feel it when you say it. Feel it against him, feel it in him. And know that you mean it.

“I’m yours, Choso,” you whisper against his lips, and you can feel him melt into your embrace, a heavy sigh leaving him as he presses himself into you. “Only yours.”

Choso’s mouth finds yours, lips slotting against you, greedily swallowing every moan you let out as his hands trace a path to your waistband. He toys with the fabric between his fingers for a while, his lips now busy kissing and sucking what you’re sure are marks into your neck. This is a side of possessiveness you haven’t seen in Choso before.

It’s so fucking arousing. The way Choso tugs at your waistband, how he nips at the skin on your neck just before he runs his tongue over the mark to soothe the sting. You’re whimpering with every bite. You’re so painfully turned on, you can’t help but to push your hips forward, meeting Choso’s hard length confined within his pants. Then it’s Choso’s turn to whimper, face buried in your neck as he meets your hips, pressing himself into your groin again and again.

Choso wants to have you so badly, he can’t think straight right now. All he knows is that he wants you, and you want him. That you told him you’re his, and he’s always been yours. His heart swells with this news. This type of happiness is foreign to him, but he wants to get used to it…with you.

He kisses his way down to your collarbone, where he sucks new marks as his hips continue to grind into yours, pressing you harder and harder against the door. Your skin, your sweat, your taste on his tongue is intoxicating, and he only wants to have more.

“There’s so many things I wanna do to you,” he rasps, as he tugs at your waistband again.

“Yeah? Like what?”

To this, Choso hums as he leans back to look at you. “Honestly?”

Your brow arches, a slow grin spreading along your face. “Have you ever been anything but honest?”

“No.” He chuckles. “I always say what I mean. I always mean what I say.” He’s kissing along your neck again, pulling moan after moan from you as he breathes into your skin, “I wanna taste you, love.”

Love.

It’s not like Choso is telling you he loves you. It’s simply a term of endearment. And yet, the pet name has your silly little head spinning.

“Wanna make you cum on my tongue again.” He trails kisses down your throat, your chest, talking to you along the way. “You know the first time you did it?” He scoffs to himself, like he can’t believe that happened. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it for weeks. I still think about it.”

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, watching Choso’s slow descent along your abdomen, where he leaves sweet smooches along the way.

“I’ve been thinking about doing it again…” He’s on his knees now, fingers still hooked into the waistband of your pants. He kisses your left hip and your mouth falls open with a quiet sigh, clearly a sensitive spot for you. “Been hoping to do it again. So please…” Choso leans over, kisses your right hip and you can’t help the broken whimper falling from your lips. He peers up at you, brown eyes blown out with lust as he asks, “Will you let me taste you?”

You don’t know if you’ve ever seen a sexier thing. This man who has quickly become everything to you, on his knees, begging for you to let him have a taste of you…

Suddenly you’re very aware of the extreme wetness pooling between your legs. You feel self-conscious for all of a second before you meet Choso’s lustful stare again. How could you deny him when he so clearly craves you?

You place your hands on top of his, pushing down and letting Choso drag your pants and panties all the way to your ankles before you kick them off to the side.

“You can have all of me,” you breathe. “I’m yours.”

Choso feels his heart skip.

“I’m yours.”

The words echo in Choso’s head, over and over until he can think of nothing else but you. Which is not unusual for him, but it feels like now that you’ve confirmed you’re his and his alone, he has this strange urge to also claim all of you.

Choso sits back on his knees, admiring the view as he cards his fingers through his loose hair. Is that all it takes to make you putty like this? Have you absolutely drenched with arousal? A few kisses to your neck and your chest? Your panties were drenched when he pulled them down. And the apex of your thighs, your pretty lips…they’re all soaked with evidence of your desire for him.

It makes Choso think that Suguru must not have been that good to you. Which is a pity because you’re so fucking beautiful when you look so disheveled like this. But that’s okay. He’ll treat you right. He’ll worship you like you deserve to be worshiped.

But he needs to pull himself together first because he’s not much better off than you. Clearly, a few kisses to your neck and your chest are enough to make him putty as well because he’s so turned on by just the sight of you. His dick is screaming to be released. He can’t seem to pull his eyes from your core, and he’s not sure if he wants to. He wants to taste you desperately. Even more so when his eyes drift up to yours and find you already looking down at him, chest rising and falling rapidly with heavy breaths of anticipation.

You want him just as badly as he wants you. And he doesn’t want to keep you waiting for another fucking second.

Choso closes the distance, pressing a soft kiss to your bare pussy and you shiver, the coil forming low in your belly already getting tighter by the second. You blame it on all the teasing looks, and the building tension on the drive over. The coil only grows tighter when Choso fully dips his tongue between your folds and begins lapping at your core. Your head falls back against the door, eyes closed tight as you concentrate on simply trying to keep yourself from crashing to the floor the moment Choso’s tongue immediately finds your clit like it’s muscle memory for him, licking light circles.

“Ah, Choso–” Both your hands hold onto his brown locks.

He opens his mouth, presses his tongue flat against your clit, and places loud, wet kisses to your pussy. You quickly lose yourself to the incredible feeling of his tongue lapping at you. He’s as amazing as he was the last time he was between your legs. Just as skilled, just as attentive, finding any and all spots that make your legs tremble even in the slightest. And he enjoys every reaction you give him. Every cute little sigh, every broken moan of his name…Choso loves when you say his name.

Because it’s his name on your tongue, no one else’s. Because it meant you were only focused on him. His name falling from your lips was honest, gentle, and seductive. And each time you sighed it, moaned it, or whimpered it, it made Choso work harder to bring you closer to your peak.

A guttural groan comes from deep in Choso’s chest as he hooks an arm beneath your thigh and puts your leg over his shoulder and you gasp because now he’s somehow even deeper. His tongue teases at your entrance and you feel yourself clench around nothing, the light taps against your hole prompting it to seek for something to enter. Choso hums, the vibrations running straight through to your clit and you whimper softly.

His tongue is incredible, skilled as it runs flat across your cunt and sends shivers up your spine every time it rubs the bundle of nerves. Your mind is working overtime trying to keep up with your body. Every lick and smack of Choso’s mouth against you has your skin tingling.

Choso is attentive, carefully finding what spots make your breath hitch and staying there until you’re crying out his name. He wants to make a mess of you before the night is over and he’s going to be sure to do it. And by the way your back arches against the door, and your hands pull at his hair, it doesn’t seem like it’s going to take much anyway.

He pushes further into your pussy, seeking better access while his hands hold your ass.

“Fuck, fuck,” You gasp when Choso sucks hard on your clit just before he flicks that tongue of his over it.

“Shit,” Choso groans into your core. “Taste so…” he drags his tongue through your folds. “...fucking sweet, baby.” Choso’s cock is throbbing between his legs. Your fucking scent, your fucking taste. He’s so drunk on you. He never wants to stop devouring you.

You’re panting above him, soft moans rushing past your lips as your legs start to shake around Choso’s head. And while he doesn’t want you to cum yet, he wants to taste your release on his tongue again. Then he wants to feel your body wrapped around him when you cum again while he’s buried deep inside of you.

With his free hand, Choso runs his index finger between your folds, gathering your slick before he stops right above your hole. He teases at your entrance, reveling in the way you tug at his hair impatiently. You so clearly want him to fill you, stretch your walls in any way possible. He’s happy to oblige. He glances up to see you staring down at him again, eyes half-lidded, lips parted as your chest heaves. Your breaths come harshly. You look so beautiful, so ready to be fucked, so ready to be his.

He keeps his gaze on yours as he presses his finger forward, dick pulsing when your walls clench down on his thick finger immediately. God, he wants to feel you around him so badly. Your mouth falls open with a silent moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Choso pushes into you until he’s knuckle deep. He’s grateful he’s been eating you out, the wetness adding to the ease in which he’s able to slip in.

“You’re so fucking tight. So tight, love,” he grits out, being met with a loud moan in response to his new pet name for you. Choso pulls his finger back, slowly pushing it back in and your grip on his hair tightens, making him increase the pace in which he fucks you with his finger. His mouth latches back onto you.

“M-more, baby,” you beg. “I need more.”

“Mmm,” Choso hums into you as he slips a second finger into your dripping cunt.

It’s like music to his ears. The way you cry out his name, the deliciously lewd squelch when you grind yourself against his hand, the slurping sounds from his mouth as he devours you.

You don’t want him to stop, don’t want this to be over, but you’re rapidly approaching your climax. And as much as you’re loving this feeling, you know you don’t have much longer until you reach your peak. Because the way Choso’s tongue runs over your heat, how his fingers somehow find the exact spot that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head, how your heart races when you look down and see Choso staring back up at you, eyes full of all his desire for you, it’s enough to send you over the edge.

And it does, your legs shaking violently as your orgasm crashes over you without warning. You feel Choso’s free hand grip your thigh to keep you steady. It’s so intense, you don’t even realize you’ve bent forward, clutching desperately onto Choso’s shoulders. It’s so intense, you can’t even hear the garbled cry of Choso’s name leaving your lips over and over. All you can see is white behind your eyelids as you ride Choso’s fingers and tongue through absolute ecstasy.

When you straighten back up, Choso pulls back from your core, lazily pumping his fingers into you. You’re still squeezing down on him, so tight even as you’re catching your breath. And he wants to give you a moment to breathe, but there’s this primal part of him whose patience is wearing thin.

So he stands, pulling his fingers from inside of you, crashing his lips into yours and swallowing your whimpers. You can taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue as he tangles the muscle with yours. The kiss is sloppy, a mix of both your saliva and release.

And it’s intoxicating.

It sets you right back at square one, a messy puddle with arousal dripping between your thighs.

All for Choso.

He places his hands beneath your thighs. Gently, he lifts you, carrying you to his bed where he lays you down on your back. Choso slowly crawls along your body, a hand coming up to brush his knuckles across your cheek. His eyes stare softly into yours, silently asking for your consent. Because he’s ready to take that next step if you are. To solidify what Choso intends to be a full on committed relationship.

And you nod, because you believe him. Because you trust him. With your body, but mostly importantly, with your heart.

“I’m going to take good care of you,” Choso promises, still gazing into your eyes before kissing you tenderly. “I’m never going to give you a reason to doubt me. Never going to break your heart.”

“I know,” you tell him. “I won’t ever break yours again.”

It’s a promise you intend to keep.

You cup your hand to the back of his head, tangling your fingers in his hair and bring him down for another kiss. Choso groans softly into your mouth and you take the opportunity to slip your tongue into his. Your tongues dance together as Choso slips his hand down the hem of your shirt and under, his fingers ghosting back up to your breasts.

A quiet gasp interrupts the kiss as Choso’s long fingers find your nipple, taking the soft bud and rolling it between his thumb and his index finger. He pulls back slightly, watching intently as your expression beneath him changes from tender and adoring to lustful, raw with desire as you arch your back to push your breast further into his touch.

Choso has seen this look on your face less than a handful of times. And each time, the look shoots straight to his dick. He releases you for the briefest of seconds before he’s reaching down to hurriedly lift your shirt over your head. He tosses your top to the floor, doing the same with his own shirt right after.

His eyes rake over you and your breasts, drinking in the way your nipples seem to further harden the longer he stares.

“You’re beautiful,” he tells you, now that he can see you in all your nude glory. Just perfection.

Choso dips down to press a kiss to the valley between your breasts before taking your right nipple in his mouth. With his free hand, he takes hold of your other breast, caressing gently as his tongue rolls over your nipple. He tries not to smirk too hard when your hands find their way into his hair again, which Choso is beginning to find to be his favorite part of making you come undone. He loves the feeling of you trying your damnedest to bring him impossibly closer to you.

Your head lolls back, Choso’s tongue flicking over your hardened bud only serving to intensify the pleasure already building up in your core again. At this point, there’s a nagging worry in the back of your head that you’re absolutely soaking Choso’s sheets with your arousal. But you can’t bring yourself to care when Choso releases your nipple from his mouth with an obnoxiously wet pop.

He adjusts himself between your thighs, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your cheek, along your jaw and back to your lips. You feel him roll his hips forward, his own arousal evident between you. A gasp rushes past your lips when you feel his hard erection pressing insistently against your center, hot, heavy and pulsing. It leaves you breathless.

“You like that?” Choso questions, grinding his hips into yours once again and only receiving your moan in response. “Like feeling how hard you make me?” He dips down to place a kiss beneath your jaw. “Do you?”

Another grind of his hips. And you’re sure you could cum just like this.

“God, yes,” you whine quietly. “I love feeling how hard I make you, baby.”

Choso groans, rolling his hips forward another time, please with your answer. You can feel the smirk on his lips when your grip in his hair tightens as you moan.

“Wanna feel you, Choso,” you whimper. “Please.”

And it’s all Choso needs to hear before he’s lifting his hips, pushing his pants down and kicking them off to the floor in what feels like one swift motion. You spread your legs wider for him, giving him room to fully settle back in. The feeling of his bare cock resting between your slick folds has you both shivering with pleasure.

“This okay?” He asks through gritted teeth. Because of course he does. He never wants you to be uncomfortable.

“It’s so good.”

Choso’s lips find yours and he kisses you hungrily. It feels like hours of you both making out, tongues tangling as you adjust to finally being a step closer to fully having each other.

But when your hands, already buried in Choso’s locks, tug just right, he can’t help the pathetic whine that falls from his lips. Nor can he help the way his hips stutter. And neither of you can help the loud moans that come when Choso’s length slides along your soaking pussy.

“Ah…” You hear Choso exhale shakily above you, jaw taut. You can feel his thighs trembling slightly between your legs, like he’s trying to resist moving.

But you want him to move. So you pull him down to you, crushing your lips to his as you move your hips, grinding his length between you. The ridges of his cock drag deliciously over your clit. You press your hips into Choso’s again and again. You don’t want to stop. And neither does Choso apparently, because he begins to meet every roll of your hips with his own until it’s just the both of you exchanging moans between you as you grind against each other.

“Fuck, babe. So damn wet,” Choso grunts.

“Just for you, Choso. You make me feel so good,” You kiss him sweetly, swallowing his whimper when you praise him.

He keeps fucking himself against you, pulling away from the kiss to hide his face in the crook of your neck.

The heat from your pussy engulfs his cock. And it’s dizzying. He wants to be inside of you, but he can’t seem to pull himself away from just the sensation of your sopping cunt slipping and sliding against him. It feels too amazing. So good, Choso’s afraid he’s not going to last much longer here.

He’s desperate for you, has been desperate for you for some time. And the buildup that he’s had to endure in the span of having his face buried between your thighs, swallowing every drop of your cum and now losing himself to your pussy before even getting to be inside of it has him ready to explode.

It’s almost embarrassing to ask, but he wants to do this with you. If you agree, of course. So before he loses himself, even as the heat rushes to his cheeks and the coil in his groin tightens and threatens to snap, he whimpers out a quiet, “are you on birth control?”

You almost miss it, because your brain is frazzled, overstimulated because you’ve only just recovered from your last release and your next is coming up quickly. But you still hear it.

“Y-yes,” you answer, moaning when you feel Choso’s cock throb between your legs. And he’s thrusting against you just a little faster now, breaths quickening.

“I need to cum in you,” Choso grits between thrusts. “Need to fill you up with me. Need to make you mine.”

Your eyes widen, not because you're offended or surprised at how blunt he's being. Choso has never been anything but honest. You’re more surprised at the immediate flood of arousal that's just seeped between you both, only making more of a mess because of the way he's speaking to you. Your moans only spur Choso on, your core tightening because this new possessiveness Choso has been revealing tonight turns you on to no end.

“Yes. God, please.” You hear his breath hitch against your skin when you moan your response.. “I want your cum, please. Fill me up, Choso.”

“Yeah, baby?” Choso hisses against your skin. “Want me to?”

“Please, please. Gimme your cum, Choso, please. I want it.”

Choso digs his hips into yours roughly, the pressure to your already sensitive nub suddenly pushing you over the edge sooner than you thought. Your cry echoes throughout Choso’s room as your legs wrap around his waist, squeezing shakily as your orgasm rips through you once more.

And Choso is still fucking himself against you, loving the way your pussy is practically screaming for something to fill it. And when the sudden feeling of his own release shoots up his spine in a rush, Choso is happy to do so. You need no time to adjust, Choso dipping a hand between you and guiding his tip to your entrance. He pushes his entire length in, bottoming out easily and groaning hoarsely when your sweet, slick walls wrap around him, convulsing hard. You feel better than he imagined. So hot, so tight, so wet.

Choso rears his hips back, then rolls them forward again, sinking into you, slowly, and your body's reaction is immediate. Goosebumps ignite along your skin. Your heart races and your breath hitches as you savor the incredible feeling of every ridge and vein stroking along your walls, every pulse of his length as you take more of him, stuffing you so full you can hardly breathe. You writhe beneath Choso, moaning when Choso pulls his hips back once more before he’s wasting no time slamming into you frantically as he chases his high.

“Gonna fill this tight little pussy with my cum, baby,” he grunts, balls slapping messily against your ass. “Need to fill this pussy. Fuck, you feel so fucking good. Shit.”

You’ve never seen this side of Choso before. It’s a new feeling to him, too. Choso is certain he’s never felt this way about anyone else before. But he can’t help it. He feels some primal need to suddenly claim you now. Because he has to. Because he can.

He wants to be sure that everyone knows you’re his.

“Tell me you’re mine again,” Choso begs. Because even he’s still having a hard time believing it. He’s got his head between your breasts now, pounding into you desperately. “P– please. Say it, baby. Tell me you’re mine.”

Your back arches, hands leaving Choso’s hair to grip at his sheets when the tip of his cock taps your sweet spot. It almost makes you cum all over again.

“Oh my god,” you gasp as your eyes roll back. “F–fuck!” You can barely form a thought with the way Choso splits you open. “I’m…ah– I’m yours, baby. Only yours.”

It’s exactly what he needs to hear. Every rough drive of Choso’s hips has you crying out for him, has you clenching down on him so hard that it’s impossible for Choso to not be overcome with the sensation of his climax violently washing over him. His mouth falls open, loud groans mixing with your cries as he bottoms out once more, pushing himself as deep as he can go before he’s spilling into you, pumping you so full of his seed that he’s sure it’s dripping onto his sheets. But he can’t be bothered to care. Not when your pussy hugs his cock so tight, milks him for all he’s worth.

Choso kisses between your breasts, up your chest, your neck, all the way up until he reaches your lips. His dick twitches with every spurt of his cum. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to stop. Even as you both catch your breath, and he’s quietly moaning sweet words to you, he can still feel himself pulsing with the shockwaves of his release.

He kisses a trail down to what he’s now discovered may be his new favorite spot – the crook of your neck – and moans lowly against you, still fucking into you slowly, draining himself of everything he has to offer. “God, your pussy is so perfect. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you,” Choso breathes.

You laugh weakly, unable to do anything but attempt to catch your breath. Your chest rapidly rises and falls as you come down from your second release. Choso presses one last kiss to your neck as he pulls his finally softening length from you with a hiss. He climbs off of you, laying on your side and pulling you into his arms where he buries his nose in your hair.

“Are you okay?” He asks quietly, almost like he’s embarrassed about the way he acted a few moments ago.

You wrap an arm around him, hand finding his back and rubbing light circles. “I’m great.” You gaze up at the man, and he gazes back down at you, a small smirk curling on one side of his lips. You stay like that for a long while, your feelings for each other, and all the words left unspoken finally being seen in each other’s eyes.

It’s Choso who breaks the silence.

“We should shower,” he suggests. He knows there’s a mess to be taken care of before either of you can relax comfortably. “I’ll start it and get this cleaned up.”

You nod, glad you thought to grab a bag before coming over. It’s easy to agree to a shower when you’ve got everything you need right here. You reluctantly pull yourself from Choso’s embrace. You sit up, about to get up to go find where you’d tossed your things when you’d fumbled in together, but you feel Choso’s large hand grab your wrist.

“Hey…” he calls to you.

You turn back to him, brows arched in surprise. “Yes?”

But Choso doesn’t say anything. He just…stares at you. And there’s a tenderness in his eyes that you’re certain you’ve seen before. It’s the same look he had when he met you at the park earlier that night, like he wants to say something, but can’t bring himself to just yet.

Instead, he sits up, presses one last soft peck to your lips. And then he’s out of bed, in the bathroom before you can blink and running a shower for you.

- - - - - -

After your showers, you and Choso lay in each other’s arms in his now clean bed. Choso hasn’t let you go since you’d crawled under the covers. It’s cute, the way he clings onto you like you’ll disappear if he loosens his grip for even a second. But you’re not going anywhere anymore. You’re content here, where you were always meant to be it seems.

“When do you go back to work?” Choso questions suddenly. You can hear the sleepiness in his voice. You know he must be tired. It’s the late hours of the night now, and the next day is slowly creeping in.

“I’ll be off next week and then I’ll go back.”

“So you can spend the week with me, then.” It’s not really a suggestion. Choso says it as if he’s noting that you’ll be with him for the week.

You giggle, and Choso snuggles even closer to you if that were possible. “Oh yeah? What are we going to be doing?”

Choso hums in thought. “I have a competition a few cities away. You could come with me.” You try not to be too surprised by this offer. Because you’ve never received it before. And it’s nice to finally get it. Choso’s hand holds the back of your neck, thumb slowly stroking back and forth along your skin. “I’ll only be there for a couple of days. You can come with me, watch me skate without the looming pressure of getting a good shot. We’ll hang out and come back.” He presses a small kiss to your forehead. “Like a long date sort of thing.”

You think about Yaga’s advice to take the next week off and get your shit together. Breaking things off with Suguru for good was the first step, and you and Choso just spent the entire night taking your relationship to the next level. Now he’s asking you if you want to spend more time taking things further. It’s a no brainer for you.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

- - - - - -

After your night with Choso, you’d spent the week with him as planned. You turned your phone off, resisting the temptation to check on work or see what your friends may be up to. You wanted to be fully focused on Choso and your new relationship. And you were glad you did. It gave you two a chance to truly spend uninterrupted time with only each other.

Choso had won his competition, of course, and despite the little promise you made to leave your camera at home, you couldn’t resist turning your phone back on for a few minutes while he skated. You couldn’t help it. You loved your job, you loved being behind the camera. And there was something just so majestic about the way Choso skated. It would be such a shame to not capture those moments. And surprisingly, you’d managed to get some incredible shots of him on your phone, which you promptly set as your screensaver.

Admittedly, you loved the way Choso’s ears practically glowed bright red when you showed him your screen.

But the week came and went in a rush and now you’re back at work. You thought your return would be awkward, your team having not seen you since the incident at the cover shoot. And yet, everyone was warm and welcoming upon your return. Funnily enough, quite a few of your team members had stopped you in the halls to quietly thank you. For what, you’re not sure, but you guessed it may have something to do with giving them front row seats to watch Naoya Zenin get pummeled.

You made a mental note to pass their thanks along to Choso, who shyly admitted to you one day that he loved the feeling of knocking him on his ass.

It was about three weeks after your return to work that the higher ups switched up your routine. You went from taking on assignments for the skating department of the magazine to researching up and coming athletes for a new department that was being built. This meant you were busier now than ever. It also meant you were traveling more. It started as small trips. You were never gone for more than a day and you’d be back at Choso’s as soon as you were in town again. But the constant travel still meant seeing less of your boyfriend. Thankfully, he was understanding of this. Work came first, but you still felt guilty.

Just when things were starting to become stable between the two of you, work soon became the new third wheel. But you both made it work. When you traveled, it was Choso dropping you off at the airport. And it was Choso picking you up from the airport. You talked so often that you never truly felt like you were away from him.

Until now.

The higher ups set their sights on a new, rising talent and apparently, it had to be you out there getting the winning shot. So they’d sent you out of town. Well, out of the country. Apparently, it's the peak of the season right now and with so many other talents popping up around the world, your higher ups are eager to be the first to capture this particular talent in action.

So here you are, outside of the country, posted up in some fancy hotel room by the beach. It’s pitch black outside, but you can still just barely make out the ripples of the waves on the dark, moonlit water. It’s the reason you’re here, and the reason there’s a rush to get this new department up and running back home. Your higher ups want to start honing in on the surf world the talented athletes, and they are hoping you can be the one to capture the perfect photo for their next cover to introduce the surf segment.

There's a surf competition tomorrow that will be happening midday, but if surfers are anything like skaters, you want to be there in the early hours of the morning. Thanks to the hotel staff, who are local to the area and some even involved in the surf scene here, you had a lead on your target. And if your sources were correct, the person you were hoping to capture in action before the crowd arrived would be there. After much research, you'd discovered the best time to get in the water was right around sunrise, so you planned on trying to beat the crowd.

But for now, you find yourself on your phone on a video call with Choso. Freshly out of the shower, you throw yourself down face first onto your hotel bed. The sheets feel like a warm hug, reminding you of Choso. So soft, so comfortable, and you feel the jetlag begin to seep into your bones. You may even fall asleep like this. Who cares if you're still in your robe?

"Oh my god, this feels like a cloud," you groan into the blankets. Choso's deep chuckle reverberates through the phone and fills the space in your lonely room, fills the space in your once lonely heart and you can't help the goofy grin on your face now.

You miss him.

"Should I be jealous?" Choso jokes, watching as you prop your phone up next to your bed before getting comfortable and snuggling beneath the blankets. "You never cuddle with me like that." He pokes his bottom lip out in a cute pout and your heart leaps. Choso has really started showing his sense of humor. It’s adorable.

You roll your eyes playfully, grinning. "That's hilarious seeing as how you always want to be the little spoon in this relationship. I'm almost never not cuddling you."

To this, Choso shrugs, still laughing when he mutters, "Well, maybe when you get back you can hold me the same way you apparently hold hotel duvets."

"And how is that?"

"Like you lov–" He cuts himself off, lips pursing like he just caught himself about to say something he shouldn’t. But you're not stupid. You know exactly where that was headed. And you’d be lying if you said that word didn’t try to claw its way up your throat on occasion.

But you're not sure if now is the right time. Things are still so new with Choso, so fresh. Because while you've been with each other for awhile now, there's always been one other person lingering. Now that they're gone, it's a fresh start on the story that is just you and Choso. This time around you're not going to fuck it up.

You can't rush to say those words. They need to come when the time is right.

"I miss you so much," Choso breathes quietly on the other side of the phone. He's looking away from the camera and you notice now that he's also propped his phone up next to his bed. He's in a black tank top and pajama pants, sitting up against his headboard. You can just make out that the sun is beginning to peek through his curtains. Suddenly you're reminded of your time difference. While the stars paint the deep blue of the night sky for you, they fade away for Choso as the sun rises.

"I miss you, too, babe."

So bad it hurts.

“When do you come back?”

You sit up in the bed, propping yourself up against the headboard to match Choso’s posture. “In a few days. I’m kind of following this guy through the next few towns to try and get the perfect picture. The sun was already setting when I got to the hotel, so I didn’t have time to check out the beach and find where the best shot would be. I’m hoping he’ll be out there during the sunrise tomorrow.”

Choso nods quietly, eyeing you through the camera. “Watching the sunrise with another man? Romantic.”

You roll your eyes at his little joke. “Jealous?”

He nods immediately. “Of course I am. You’ll be at the beach, watching the sunrise with someone who isn't me, your boyfriend.” He emphasizes the word. You know it’s not coming from a place of true jealousy. He simply loves bringing up the fact that there’s no other man as important as him in your life anymore. Another little sign of possessiveness Choso shows now that you actually really like and find to be very sexy.

If you were with him, you would have crawled into his lap and shown him there was absolutely nothing to be jealous of. Instead, you pout. Because you hate that he’s so close, and still out of your reach. You want to be able to touch him, kiss him, please him.

And then a little lightbulb is going off in your head, an idea forming. You shift around, smirking when your robe loosens and the shoulder droops down, exposing your collarbone and Choso’s favorite little hiding spot. The one place he loves to bury his face in aside from between your thighs.

You watch as his gaze drifts down to your skin and he inhales sharply. One thing about Choso is that on the night you’d made things official and he told you he would never get enough of you, he meant it. Just like he meant everything he’d ever told you. Choso was insatiable, always hungry for you. There was hardly a day when you were in each other’s presence that you didn’t somehow end up tangled in the sheets, hidden away in the bathroom or whatever dark room you could find where you could completely devour each other. All of this time spent apart between both of your travels must have been eating away at him. It was definitely taking its toll on you.

“I really miss you,” Choso repeats. His eyes are still stuck on your bare shoulder, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. “Wish I was there with you.”

You hum, gripping the fabric of your robe and sliding it back up to cover your shoulder, grinning when you hear Choso huff. It’s fun to get a rise out of him sometimes. You slide the robe down again, just a little further, a little wider so that more of your chest is exposed. “I wish you were here with me, too, babe.”

You see Choso shift, a hand coming down to palm at his crotch and you can just barely make out the outline of his erection beginning to form beneath the thin fabric of his pajamas. You watch, almost in a trance as he adjusts the bulge in his pants. So unashamed, not even trying to hide the fact that simply seeing your shoulder has him hard. And seeing the effect you have on him makes your own body react, makes your breath hitch your core throb.

“I wanna see you,” Choso states. His eyes settle on the swell of your breasts. You hadn’t even noticed that your robe had begun to slip further.

Your fingers deftly undo the knot that holds your robe together and you let it fall from your shoulders, leaving your nude form fully exposed for Choso. Your boyfriend licks his lips, fist now gripping his fully erect cock through his pants, stroking slowly over the fabric as his eyes rake over you.

You suddenly feel shy, awkward. It’s just you here even though Choso is on the other end of the line. It doesn’t take away from the fact that you’re alone in this room, sitting naked on the phone. You feel a little silly doing this. You reach for your robe again, but freeze when you hear Choso’s voice come from the device, a rough “Don’t” stopping you in your tracks.

Your eyes follow his movements when he reaches to pull his shirt over his head. Then he lifts his hips, hands tugging his pants and boxers down. His cock springs free, already glistening with precum. Now you’re licking your lips, wishing so badly that you were there to take his pretty, tan cock down your throat just the way he likes.

“Baby…” Choso moans as he wraps his hand around his dick.

“What do you want me to do?” You ask, breathily. You can feel your center wet with your arousal as your eyes lock onto Choso’s motions.

“Touch your tits for me.”

You do as you’re told immediately, sliding your hands up to your chest, teasing yourself while Choso watches you. Cupping your breasts, you whimper as you run your fingers over your hardening nipples. You roll the sensitive buds between your fingers, pinching them gently, moaning in response to the grunt you hear from Choso on the other end.

“Feel good, baby?” He asks. Through drooping eyelids, you can see him lean forward slightly in bed just before he spits on the tip of his cock and uses his hand to spread the slick fluid. His head falls back against his headboard as he groans. Then his eyes are back on you through the screen, hot and filled with desire. “Does it?” He asks again.

“Ahh…yes,” you sigh, pinching and rolling your nipples between your fingers. Your back arches against your headboard as you imagine it’s Choso who is touching you, caressing you, squeezing you like this. You want him to be here, pleasuring you like this. The thought alone has more arousal dripping from your cunt and you bite down on your lip to keep yourself from moaning too loudly.

“Fuck– so damn beautiful.” Choso’s hips buck up into his fist, mouth slightly agape while he watches you tease yourself. “Open your legs, baby. Let me see you play with that pretty pussy.”

“I wish I could touch you,” You whine as you spread your legs for him. “I wish you could touch me.” Choso’s stare follows your hand as it slides between your thighs. He bites his lip, gaze stuck on the way your fingers spread your glistening folds and find your clit, gently rubbing the little nub and he tightens his grip as he pumps his hand up and down his length. Your eyes flutter closed as you pleasure yourself.

“Doing s-so good, baby,” Choso praises you through gritted teeth, stroking himself slowly. “So pretty. So…ah…so perfect like this.” He brings his free hand down to his balls, gripping the two orbs in his palm and gently squeezing. “Watch me.”

And you do, knowing that there’s just something so fucking arousing about what you’re doing right now that you don’t stand a chance of lasting much longer. You watch as Choso spits messily on his cock again. You watch as he strokes himself faster. You watch as his face scrunches with pleasure and how that tattooed line across his face crinkles every time he squeezes his eyes shut to focus on staving off his release when he gets too close.

“So hot,” you tell him. “I want your cock so bad, baby.”

“It’s yours,” Choso groans, hands tugging at his balls. “Fuuuck, it’s yours any fucking time you want it.”

Your pussy is soaked, begging for Choso to fill it. You moan as you play with yourself, your other hand coming down to rub light circles around your entrance. And you can feel how tight of a fit it will be even with your own fingers because you so desperately clench with need for Choso.

On the other end of the line, you see the thin line of precum dripping from Choso’s tip and onto his hard abdomen. Every thick vein running along his cock has your mouth watering. God, he’s gorgeous, losing himself to you by just watching you lose yourself to him. The image is so sexy, you want to burn it into your mind so you never forget it.

“Use your fingers,” Choso pants, moans and whimpers falling freely from his lips now. You love it when he becomes a whiny mess like this.

Hurriedly, you bring two fingers to your lips and slip them into your mouth. You suck your fingers, getting them nice and wet. Then you bring them back down to your entrance, the earlier wetness helping when you push your fingers in. You clench around the digits immediately and your eyes close for just a moment.

“Watch me.”

You remember Choso’s earlier request and you open your eyes to find Choso staring back at you. Jaw clenched, nostrils flared. His chest rises and falls with every harsh breath as he fucks himself into his fist. And now you’re a writhing mess, knuckles deep in your own cunt, trying to hide the way your thighs are twitching and how your head is spinning with each movement through your walls.

“Can’t wait to see you,” you tell Choso who can only reply with a low groan.

You’re so close to your end. You feel your thighs trembling with every pump of your fingers, with every tight circle rubbed along your clit. Your fingers just feel too good. Especially when Choso is encouraging you on the other end of the phone, and getting off to you at the same time..

Choso doesn’t seem to be much better off. He’s got his head back against his headboard, hips moving frantically while he drinks in the way you moan for him.

“God, I’m gonna fuck that pretty pussy of yours so good when you come back home to me.”

It’s a promise from him. Because Choso never says anything to you that he doesn’t mean.

“Yeah, baby?” You ask, curling your fingers in your walls to find the spot that takes you over the edge. A quiet gasp rushing past your lips when you reach it, legs quivering at the incredible sensation.

“Fuck yeah.” Choso’s breathing turns ragged, hips slamming into his fist. “Gonna fuck your –” He pumps himself faster, squeezes his balls harder, brows knitting together as his hips come up. “shit…gonna…ah– fucking…shit–” He doesn’t get to finish his thought, hands gripping his balls as they tighten, and he paints his abdomen with thick ropes of cum. The moan that leaves Choso is low, guttural, arousing.

And as you watch Choso’s cum leave his tip and land on his bare skin with a loud slap, you’re sent to your own peak, walls clamping down on your fingers and convulsing as your orgasm takes over. Your eyes roll back, spine arching away from the headboard and it takes everything to not close your legs and stop. Your skin feels like it’s on fire, the intensity of your release making you cry out for your boyfriend.

He’s watching you as you cum, slowly stroking his softening cock while he tries to catch his breath. And he’s never looked more beautiful. Cheeks dusted a rosy pink, chest flushed with a sheen of sweat, loose hair sticking to his forehead.

He’s perfect.

He’s yours.

- - - - - -

In the morning, the chilly ocean breeze greets you. The earliest rays of sunlight are just beginning to peek above the horizon. The waters are fairly calm right now. Not at all what you were expecting. And it makes you a little uneasy. It almost feels like something is waiting just around the corner for you. You’re not sure if you should be worried.

But you don’t have time to give to this feeling.. Not when your eyes land on your target, right where you’d been told he would be. He fits the description you were given to a tee – tall, deep tan skin with what appeared to be purple hair braided back into cornrows. He doesn’t have the look of a typical surfer.

No wetsuit, but instead baggy shorts and a baggy t-shirt, which you weren’t sure would hold up well in the water. Perhaps he only wore it when practicing. But what would you know? Your speciality is skateboarding.

He hasn’t seen you yet. His eyes are glued to the small waves of the water while his board lies discarded next to him. You’re thankful he hasn’t seen you. You’d hate to get an earful this early in the morning if he sees you skulking around. From what you’ve heard, the man is a bit elusive and not a huge fan of getting his picture taken. Which only made him all the more appealing for your company. They were desperate to get this guy featured on the cover.

You take a few steps towards the stranger before you feel your phone buzzing incessantly in your pocket. You couldn’t be more grateful that the gentle roar of the water covers the sound. Quickly, you fish your phone out and check your messages. The most important one lies at the top.

Yaga: Check your email for the next assignment ASAP. Big event for your department, so I’m trusting you with this one.

Yaga: Don’t make me regret it.

Your thumb swipes through your apps until you find your email. You open the body of the email to find the details Yaga was telling you to review. The competition header is the first thing you lay eyes on:

TOKYO SKATE LEAGUE COMPETITION OF THE SEASON

Okay, so it’s for a skate competition taking place in a couple of weeks. You don’t pay it much mind. It’s the list of competitors that catch your eye.

Choso Kamo

Momo Nishimiya

Naoya Zenin

Suguru Geto

Noritoshi Kamo

Junpei Yoshino

There are other competitors on the list, but you’re not familiar with them.

Competition summary: Individual skaters will go head to head in a tournament style competition with scores being graded by judges. The last one standing will receive a five year contract with the sports magazine of their choosing.

You wonder if Choso has seen this list. You’re sure he has. He’s a part of it, so he would have had to sign up to enter. But, your stomach twists. It feels like the photoshoot all over again. No wonder Yaga gave you that warning in his text. No wonder something felt off today. No wonder the sea was so calm this morning. The storm had yet to come.

You inhale deeply, making a mental note to call Choso later about this.

Then you see movement from the corner of your eye, your target moving to pick up his board and leave towards the other end of the beach. So much for your plan of quietly sneaking up and talking with him. You rush forward, shoving your phone back into your pocket as you call after him.

“Excuse me! Mr. Hakari!”

And in your hurry to catch the man, you miss the new text message coming in.

Unknown Number: Looks like I’ll be seeing you and your boyfriend soon. Looking forward to wiping the floor with pigtails

238 notes · View notes

slayfics · 3 months

Text

Explosive Tendencies a slow burn fan fiction about the readers developing relationship with Katsuki Bakugo.

Chapter Twenty: Planning for the School Festival.

Chapter links

After Mina dragged you out of Katsuki's room and forced you into what she called "girl's study night" a screaming match ensued between you and her.

She insisted you explain why you went "crawling back" to Katsuki when he didn't even apologize.

You kept telling her that's not how things happened, but she wasn't satisfied. To be fair you weren't giving her the whole story. But- how could you?

Katsuki had come to you confidently to vent about the guilt he had been carrying around due to All Might losing his power. Katsuki assumed it was all his fault for getting kidnapped and had been carrying that weight around all this time.

You weren't about to break his trust and out his vulnerability to all the girls in the class.

Why couldn't Mina just trust you had a good reason to be friends with him again?

"Listen, I get you have a big crush on him but- that doesn't make it ok for you to let him treat you like garbage!" Mina yelled. You felt your face become hot as the rest of the girl's mouths had dropped open. What happened to Mina waiting for you to be ready to say that? This fight was really all it took for her to expose you in front of the rest of the girls? You felt your hands begin to shake with anger.

"I don't know why you're so invested in this Ashido! Is it because you're jealous?! You're the one who's been obsessed with who likes who and going around saying you want to fall in love someday! Why do you even care what I do? It doesn't concern you!" You yelled

Mina stood stunned by your words for a moment before defeatedly exclaiming, "You're right- it doesn't concern me," and walking away.

You two hadn't talked since.

She kept her distance from you in classes and training, and in the common room you could feel her staring daggers at you any time you were near Katsuki.

You tried to brush it off and stay focused on your work, but it became increasingly annoying to feel her negative energy around you every day.

The next day in class Aizawa announced that the School Festival would be occurring as it does every year, and your class needed to choose an event to put on.

The class erupted with ideas and arguments about ideas that never reached a conclusion. Aizawa had told your class that if you didn't have an idea by morning you would be going with his idea of a public lecture.

After class, almost everyone hung around in the common room to discuss ideas. Katsuki walked past everyone discussing and said he was going to sleep.

You looked around and made eye contact with Mina who was giving you a nasty glare. You let out a sigh and followed after Katsuki.

"Tch- following me?" he asked as you stepped into the elevator with him.

"I'm not trying to stay down here with Ashido giving me side eye all night. Besides you heard them in class. They didn't care for our ideas anyway," You responded as Katsuki pressed the elevator button to the fourth floor.

Katsuki grunted in agreement. "Whatever they choose is going to be lame as hell anyway, and I don't give a fuck. I've got enough to deal with from the supplement classes for the provisional license," he said as you both made your way into his dorm.

He sat on his bed, and you sat on his rolling chair.

"How have those been anyway?" You asked, trying to keep the worry out of your voice. You knew it had to be a lot, juggling those classes on top of everything else in the hero courses at U.A.

"I'm fine- you don't need to ask," Katsuki said then looked away from you glaring at the floor as he contemplated. " You and Raccoon Eyes still haven't talked since that day?" he asked.

Katsuki wasn't dumb, he knew Mina was upset at you because from her perspective it looked like he had ignored you for three days then seemingly came back with no explanation. He knew you didn't tell Mina the truth- how he had cried like a damn baby to you that night shortly after his fight with Deku. He was grateful you didn't- but also felt guilty for putting a wedge in your friendship with Mina.

"No," you answered. "But I don't give a damn, she's just an extra anyway, right?" You teased.

Katsuki let out an amused huff. He knew you were lying. Of course, you cared. He noticed Mina was the only other person in the class you had gotten close to besides him and Eijiro.

"Yeah," he said still staring at the floor. If he could have, he would have thanked you for keeping his privacy and he would have apologized for rupturing your friendship, but... he just couldn't. So instead- "You want to get working on one of the dumb assignments we have due soon?"

"Yeah," You smiled at him excited for the invitation to work with him.

Katsuki glanced at your smile before making his way to grab his study materials. You were always so happy to be around him even when he knew he had to be a miserable company. It didn't make sense to him- but... he didn't hate it.

You two worked on your assignment until Katsuki declared it was getting too late. You looked at your phone and rolled your eyes.

"Still on grandpa time, huh?" you teased.

"Hey! I have a good sleep schedule and I need it with all this extra work alright!" He barked.

"I know I know- I'm just messing with you," you said and began to pack up your study supplies.

Katsuki eyed you putting your stuff away for a moment and then laid down on his bed stretching out.

You swung your backpack on your back, "Get some rest then Grandpa," you said playfully at him.

"Hm?" He said eyeing you. "You- don't have to leave," he said.

You froze and stared at him, returning his gaze. He was asking you to stay?

You dropped your backpack and sat back down on his rolling chair eyeing him curiously.

"You comfortable over there?" He asked.

"Uh-," You mumbled unsure of how to answer. You were unsure what he was trying to get at?

"You fell asleep over here before brat- you can make yourself more comfortable," he said in response to your quizzical look.

You felt your breath catch in your throat. Was he asking you to join him on the bed?

You moved slowly as you sat on the bed awkwardly.

Katsuki scoffed, "So- what stupid event do you think those extras are going to choose?"

"No idea- but if they choose Kaminari's maid cafe, I will be murdering someone," You responded laughing.

"Hm- too bad you wouldn't look bad in a maid outfit," Katsuki said laughing.

A bright blush illuminated your face.

"Oh shit- relax I'm just kidding, no need to turn into a damn tomato," he said laughing again.

You tried to brush off your reaction and turned away to hide your face. "Hey- you sure you want me in here much longer?" You asked.

"The hell do you mean? Would have told you to get the fuck out if I didn't," Katsuki said.

"It's just- I don't know- I'm sure you heard."

"Heard what?" He asked.

"Some of those rumors that spread around when Ashido pulled that stunt and dragged me out of your room when I tried to hide from her in the restroom," You explained After that night when the boys had seen your fight with Ashido, someone had run with some assumptions of why you were hiding in Katsuki's room.

"Oh," Katsuki exclaimed now understanding. "Look you can go if you want. Those extras are nosy as hell and need to mind their damn business. But- I don't give a damn about what any of them have to say so-," Katsuki said.

He was never good at words, so he couldn't just simply say he liked your company and didn't want you to leave. Especially now that you brought up those rumors he heard. He didn't want to feel like he was forcing you to stay.

"Just go if you're uncomfortable," He concluded.

"No! I- I don't care either... I just- whatever it doesn't matter," you said deciding to leave the conversation alone.

To Katsuki's surprise, you laid down next to him, "Ok- so who had the worst idea of an event?" You asked.

Katsuki let out an amused laugh, "Iida, who the fuck would come to a history lesson?!"

You laughed at his response, and the two of you talked until you had both dosed off into sleep.

Tags: @anon-mouse223 @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @sikuthealien @queenpiranhadon @melrs21 @poemzcheng @kazuumii @bakunianadecorazon @ur-crusty-uncle @reads-stuff-quietly @chixkadee @perfectsukii @faetoraa @fem-weeb @nagicats @lees-chaotic-brain @maelibo

Just wanted to thank you all for reading and update you that there are 4 more chapters left!

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neverinadream · 3 months

Text

Garden Of Eden (Part Two)

Last Part // Next Part

Summary: Some things were not meant to be touched and to Quinn Y/N was meant to be untouchable.

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reade

Requested: Nope

Warnings: uses of she/her pronouns, some suggestive language, best friend's brother trope, sneaking around, clunky writing 🫣, edited but not really edited...i think that's it

Notes: eek, it's been a few months since i posted the first part huh? sorry, i did write most of a second part and then i lost it, so most of this is from memory. i also forgot i wrote the first part in third person, so that was fun...er, yeah, this is just a filler chapter of sorts, nothing really exciting happens. anyway, feedback is appreciated!!

"Luke!" Y/N squeals her baking partner's name, coughing through a large cloud of flour as it plumes into the air. She waves her hands, quickly trying to dispel the dust, but only makes it worse, her coughing intensifying as she breathes some of it in. He drops the bowl, quickly coming to her aid, matching her coughs as he wafts the cloud in his direction. "What are you doing?" She asks, spinning to face him.

He tilts his head like a confused puppy. "I'm putting the flour in-" He points to his phone, the instructions displayed on his screenm "-Just like it says."

"Bit by bit," she stresses, reading the part he had evidently missed, "not throw it all in."

"Oh." He hides his face, concealing his laugh in the palm of his hand, shoulders shaking in silent laughter. "I guess I missed that part."

"You guess?" She gives him a soft shove, but never catches the giggle that rolls off her lips; the light sound eases some of his worry. "It should be alright, right?" She looks up at him for some reassurance. He shrugs, mumbling something she doesn't catch under his breath. "Here," she pushes the bowl to him, dragging it through spilt flour, creating white powdery streaks across the counter, "mix."

"Me?"

"You're stronger than me." She gives his bicep a poke, a light blush coating his cheeks. "Now fix the mess you made," she mumbles, looking down at the flour decorating her chest. She only makes it worse trying to dust it off, her forehead creasing with a harsh line as she rubs it. "Be back in a second-"

"What?!" Luke's head snaps up in her direction, watching her leave for the door. "Don't leave me with this." He begs her with panic in his eyes.

Y/N stops at the door, her hand touching the frame, a small smile touching her lips, as she turns to look back at him. "It's just brownie batter, Luke," she teases, "what's the worst that could happen?"

"Well, if I suddenly start the end of the world because I mixed this wrong, that's on you!" He calls after her. She laughs, shaking her head at his dramatics.

Quinn emerges from the bathroom, his chest fluttering as he hears the faint sound of Y/N's laugh floating up the stairs. It was light and cheerful, often representing who she was. The first time he heard her laugh, properly laugh, the kind where her smile would meet her eyes and reflect the happiness she felt in that moment, was the moment he had decided to always make her laugh. And though he never considered himself to be the funniest, his plan to make her laugh had worked so far.

The jokes could be cringey, or just down right unfunny, but she would always laugh.

He watches her jog up the stairs, her hand gliding along the railing, before coming to an abrupt stop at the top. She dips her eyes down to the towel wrapped around his waist, before panning up over his chest, looking at the droplets still sitting on his skin. Heat rises up her neck and sits on her cheeks as he begins to smirk.

"Don't say it-"

"Say what?" Quinn cuts her off with a chuckle, dipping to sneak a kiss. He knew he shouldn't but the temptation was too strong to resist. “I was just going to say good morning,” he adds, sneaking another kiss. His eyes flicker down to her t-shirt. "Is that flour?"

She looks down at her chest. "It could be..."

"What else could it be?"

"Drugs," she looks back up at him, "me and Luke were doing hard-core drugs. He wanted to snort it off my boobs."

He laughs. "Fun morning then?"

She presses up onto her tiptoe, closing the distance between them, connecting their lips again with a soft kiss. It tingles and lingers on his mouth, teasing him into wanting more. "Even better now that I've seen you," she replies, her hand drifting out to wipe away a droplet of water still on his chest. The things she would've done to have woken up with her head on his chest. Just the mere thought of it sends warmth to her cheeks.

Two days had passed since Quinn had asked her to trust him and for two days he had been racking his brain of ways they could have their 'first' date. Take her out for dinner? Too basic. Go see a movie? He didn't want to sit in silence for ninety minutes. Every idea he had was met with a thick line slashed through it, and the worry that his brothers would either get suspicious, or be offended that they hadn't gotten an invite.

But her week with them was quickly coming to an end and he had to act quickly.

"Tonight," he blurts out, meeting her raised eyebrows with a lopsided smile. He takes a steady breath, drawing in the smell of coconuts that lingered in her hair. "Let's do something tonight."

She glances over her shoulder, but the flutter of excitement in her chest has a smile breaking out. "Like what?"

Quinn shrugs. "It's a surprise." She sighs his name. "This will be a good surprise," he reassures her, not knowing what the surprise will be. His hand moves to her face, smoothing his thumb over her cheek. "One you'll like because none of your exes will be there this time."

Y/N didn't like surprises.

Her surprise eighteenth birthday party had been dampened by her mother deciding to invite her ex-boyfriend, whom she had broken up with two days before. Jack watched her cry for the first thirty minutes, grumbling threats under his breath and passing her tissues to dry her eyes. Quinn stopped anyone from going into the upstairs bathroom, nearly pushing one of her cousins down the stairs. And Luke, as sweet as he's always been to her, tried his best to intimidate her ex with sharp glares and throwing up a finger when no one else was looking.

She declared there and then that she would no longer be a victim to any more surprises.

Her eyes flicker down to his waist, the plush white towel secured tightly, but not tight enough that it wouldn't come away with one single tug. "This is teasing me," she purrs, fingers wiggling at her side, itching to touch him.

"Kinda like those shorts you're currently wearing," he replies, licking his lips and panning his eyes down her legs. His hand moulds to the shape of her hip, connecting them as she climbs the last few steps. "You were wearing these around Luke?"

She bites her lip, trying to stop herself from smiling. "Jealous?"

"Maybe a little," he wasn't ashamed to admit, "Lukey's always had a bit of a schoolboy crush on you." He nuzzles his face into her neck, stumbling them both back against the wall and out of sight. Y/N tips her head back, breath catching in her throat and fighting the urge to whimper as he marks the column of her neck with soft kisses. "He'd hump your leg like some crazed dog in heat if he could," Quinn grumbles into her ear, kissing the soft spot behind it.

"So would you," she giggles.

"Okay," he nods from side to side, a grin creeping onto the corners of his mouth, "but the difference is you'd let me."

She walks her fingers up his chest. "Would I?"

He grabs her hips, pulling her away from the wall, flushing her up against his body. "Are we forgetting what happened the other day?" She wraps her arms around him, whimpering under her breath as he nips at her neck. "You were practically begging me to fuck you."

"A girl has needs," she brushes him off, fisting her fingers through the back of his hair. The wet curls tangle around her digits and she gives them a soft tug, pulling his mouth to align with hers. "And there's only so much that I can do myselfl," she whispers, teasingly licking at his bottom lip.

Quinn releases a low groan, his cock standing at half-mast thinking about Y/N pleasuring herself. He shakes his head but it does nothing to rid him of the thought.

"I think I should be allowed a peek," she looks down at his waist, heat licking up her spine when she spies the slight bulge.

"Ha!" He barks a laugh. "Nice try, cutie."

He takes a step back, resting one hand on the top of his towel and tousles his fingers through his wet hair. His eyes settle on her as he takes a soft breath, the corners of his mouth lifting into a small smile. A slight blush creeps onto the bridge of his nose.

"What?" She asks, trying to read his face.

"I-"

A loud shriek and whizzing sound come from the kitchen, silencing Quinn and gaining both of their attention. Something heavy gets knocked to the floor, hitting the ground with a loud clang, followed up with a series of expletives and more various thuds and bangs.

"Turn it off! Turn it off!" Luke shouts as both she and Quinn approach the kitchen, him hanging back as Y/N steps inside.

Her mouth gapes at the mess. The bag of flour had been knocked off the counter, eggs had been cracked and crushed on the flour, the mixing bowl was nowhere for her to see, and globs of sticky brownie mix were on every surface she could see. And there, standing in the middle of the mess, were her culprits, her best friend doubled over in hysterics and Luke turning redder by the second as frantically tried to stop the batter from flying everywhere.

"Jack, turn it off!" Luke glares at his older brother, bits of brownie batter sticking to his face and hair.

Jack stuffs his hand into his pocket to retrieve his phone, snapping pictures of Luke. "This is too good," he laughs, tears already forming from laughing so hard. "I'm sending these to Tiff."

Luke rips the plug from the socket and the whizzing sound stops. "Don't you dare!" He disappears behind the island counter and re-emerges with the mixing bowl, most of the brownie batter now missing, and a electric whisk. "Oh, shit," he swallows a large breath, cheeks turning pink as he spots Y/N.

"Yeah," Y/N nods, crossing her arms over her chest, "shit, indeed."

"It's his fault!" Luke was quick to point the blame at Jack, throwing out his arm and pointing his finger.

Jack shoves his arm. "Fucking liar!"

Luke shoves him back. "It was your idea to use the whisk!"

"But I wasn't the idiot who turned it onto the highest setting, was I?!" Jack fires back, rolling his eyes. He quickly snaps another picture of Luke, giggling as he does, his mouth forming a cheeky grin. "Oi!"

Luke snatches his phone, laughing at Jack as he turns, blocking his attempts to get it back. "What's the matter?" He taunts, circling the island, the sound of egg shells crunching under his feet. "Too slow to keep up?"

"You wish!" Jack wobbles, nearly slipping on some egg yolk. He groans, lifting his foot to inspect the mess of mushed egg yolk and shell sticking to the bottom of his sock. He glares at Luke. "Look what you made me do!"

Walking through flour and stepping over crushed shells, Y/N takes the phone from an unsuspecting Luke, who whimpers as she grabs the phone out of his hand. "There," she mumbles, deleting the photos and handing it back to Jack, "all gone."

Luke smiles and Jack frowns. "You're meant to be on my side," he mutters, pocketing his phone.

Taking another look at the mess, she sighs. "Just...get it all cleaned up." She looks across at Jack, who is laughing at Luke, mumbling some comment about him hoping he has fun cleaning up. "Both of you."

Jack groans. "What?!"

"You heard me," she bites back, spinning to leave, ignoring the bickering that had erupted behind her. Quinn just smiles as she approaches. "Tonight couldn't come quick enough," she whispers, sliding past him, giving him one last look over her shoulders as she hurries up the stairs.

"And where are you going?"

The handle slips out of her hand, her arm dropping to her side. "Great," she mutters under her breath. Should've just gone out of the window.

She turns, finding Luke with his curls all in a mess and dressed only in a pair of shorts, looking like he had just rolled out of bed in search of a late-night snack. A small light shines in from the kitchen, half illuminating him.

A small smile pulls on the corners of her mouth, the gears in her brain working fast to come up with a convincing lie. "For…a walk." She cringes, even she wouldn't have believed her lie.

He lifts his eyebrows, folding his arms across his chest. "It's a little late for a walk," he states, leaning against the doorframe, "maybe I should come with you."

"I'm a big girl, Luke," she replies, playing with her sleeve. Her phone buzzes in her back pocket but she ignores it. "There's nothing too big or too scary that I can't handle." Her phone buzzes again. "Let's remember which one of us hid behind a cushion the first time we watched Scream."

He stares back at her, showing no signs of amusement. "Not going to get that?" He peels one arm away from the other and points to her.

She shakes her head. “No.”

"No?" He unfolds his other arm, slipping both his hands into the pockets of his shorts. "Could be urgent."

"It's not." She pulls her phone out with a sigh. All she sees is a black screen as she pretends to check it. Her eyes flicker up at Luke and then back down at the blank screen, trying to sell it. "Nope, not urgent," she mumbles, crossing her arms over her chest, and tucking her phone under her arm, "why are you trying to change the subject?"

Pushing away, he takes long strides, stopping to stand in front of her. She meets his eyes as he scans her face, searching for the truth in her deception. "Why are you acting so suspicious?"

She tilts her head to the right, eyes narrowed and never breaking contact with his. "Do you always answer a question with another question?"

He straightens up, but the extra height doesn't intimidate her. She still remembers the kid who would cry if he wasn't allowed to join in on her and Jack's sleepovers. "Why? Does it annoy you?" She rolls her eyes. "Come on," he whines, throwing his hands into the air for dramatics, "we don't keep secrets from each other."

"We don't?" Luke shakes his head. "Oh really?" Again, he shakes his head. She tilts her head and narrows her eyes. "Then why did I have to hear that you slept with Tiff?" Tiffany, Tiff for short, was her closest friend. After Jack, of course.

His face grows white. "Jack told you?"

"Yes, he told me!" She unfurls her arm to swat the back of her hand against his chest. He sighs, rubbing the spot. "Why are you ghosting her?" His eyes drop to the ground. "Luke?!" He doesn't budge. "Fine, I'll just go ask Jack; I'm sure you probably told him."

"And I'll tell Jack about you and Quinn," he blurts out the threat, the corners of his mouth pulled upwards into a smug grin.

Her eyes grow wide, a lump the size of Michigan lodged in her throat preventing her from speaking. She swallows it down but has nothing to say. No quickly thought-up lie to lead him off the trail.

"Yeah," he mumbles, "I see everything." She opens her mouth but still nothing comes out. "Jack might be blind to what's going on, but I'm not. I see you both, with your little lovey-dovey stares and sitting too close to each other during movie nights." He motions it all with his fingers. "Not to mention, Quinn was acting all weird when we got back the other day. I'd say you two were up to no good."

"Up to no good?" She says, laughing. "What are you? A fifty year old man?"

He rolls his eyes, laughing with her before falling serious again. "Look, I don't care. If you and Quinn are together then I'm cool with that, but just don't keep it from Jack." She lowers her eyes. "You know he'll only get pissed that you kept it from him," Luke adds, "like that one time you secretly went on a date with that one guy from you math class-"

Her eyes snap back up to him. "How do you know about that?"

"Did you not just hear me?" He throws his hands up with a smile and a dramatic flourish. "I know everything, Y/N. Everything."

"Everything?"

Luke nods. "I'm like a Marauder's Map."

"I'm pretty sure that only knew the location of people," she tilts her head to the side, eyes narrowed up at him, "Not their secrets."

He softly flicks the centre of her forehead, chuckling as she bats his hand away like a cat to a fly. "Okay, nerd."

She rubs her forehead. "Can I go now?" He takes a step back, pocketing his hands. Giving him a small smile, she tucks her phone into her pocket, before mouthing thank you as she turns to leave.

NHL Taglist: @thoseboysinblue @chilwellspulisic @lovelynikol16 @love4lando

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fanfic #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl fic

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m-y-fandoms · 1 year

Text

Commission: Nagito Komaeda and Kokichi Ouma - Kissing/Makeout Headcanons + First Kiss Drabble

Fic premise assumes you are the S/O (established relationship or crush) and WANT to be kissed by them, keep this in mind.

Word count: 2.6k words

Nagito Komaeda

Nagito is very ill (obviously) both mentally and physically. With this in mind and just seeing how he acts in-game, I have always retained the idea that he has different sides of himself. I think a lot of the time, the illness gets to his head.

Which Nagito you get can change day by day depending on his mood, his goals, or his current mental state, as we see in-game. Think of how he acts in the beginning of Chapter 1 versus say Chapter 5.

There was a very smug, passive-aggressive (and sometimes just plain aggressive), and sharp-witted Nagito…

Or the giggling, self-hating, hope-gasming mess of a man Nagito.

As his S/O, you got both sides, and both sides would serve you in his own way. He would always strive to please you, even if his methods and words sometimes weren’t the best.

After all, he wouldn’t have fallen in love with you if he didn’t see you as a beacon of hope. You were worthy in every way to him, even when he felt like he didn’t deserve you.

Early into your relationship, Nagito would be very needy, in disbelief that someone like him could have someone like you. He’d be touch-starved, nearly worshiping your body as you made out.

His hands would shake as he ran them up and down your sides while you kissed, clawing at your scalp, desperate to pull you in as if he’d lose you if he didn’t.

He’d be out of breath, ragged, not wanting to separate from you. He wouldn’t believe you would want to be near him, much less lock lips with him. He would savor every second, heart beating wildly in his chest. He would feel like he could pass out at any second.

As your relationship progressed and you two got more comfortable being romantic and vulnerable around each other, he would become more confident and initiate the connections between you two more often.

There would still be times where he acted a bit strange or timid, even in your trusted presence, but now making out with you was something he wanted to enjoy regularly, craved and needed, rather than an occurrence he thought would never happen to him in a million years.

He warms up to you like an engine, going from clinging to you and asking between kisses why you have feelings for a mess like him, to leaving you speechless and breathless as he pushes you up against the wall of your private cottage. He’d cage you in with his arms on either side of you, wanting you only to himself, biting at your bottom lip.

He’d become greedy with your touch and time, dragging you away from the group to make out in your room and tell you how you drive him wild.

The First Kiss

You sat on the floor of Nagito’s cabin with him like you did pretty much every night, cross-legged and hiding a hand of cards from him so he couldn’t cheat. He won nearly every time anyway, so he didn’t need that extra advantage. You enjoyed whisking him away for alone time like this. You found that many of your classmates either didn’t like Nagito or didn’t understand him. Most found him odd, even those who called him a friend. He never saw their judgements or little jabs as hurtful because he thought he deserved it. It made you really enjoy the time spent between only the two of you, because there was no judgement toward him, no stress. You could just be yourselves. He could even tell you about his ideals and plans for hope for the world all he wanted without being side-eyed. You often talked for hours as you played video games you borrowed from Chiaki and ate snacks.

Everyone knew you two were a thing, a close friendship that had blossomed into a mutual crush. You were rarely seen without the other, and in fact most had an inkling that if Nagito wasn’t with you, he was up to something.

You had a lot of fun with him, despite his constant questioning of your feelings for him: asking why you’d want to even be around someone like him, assuring you that he knew he could be a bother. He felt like he was a waste of your time, and you were slowly getting him out of the habit of feeling that way.

Now into early hours of the morning, everyone else was fast asleep for the night. Nagito walked you back to your cabin in the dark of the humid night, lit only by small lanterns adorning the cottage walls. This was your routine. Once in a while you fell asleep in his bed while he slept on the floor with a single blanket and pillow but him walking you back to your room before then was the norm. He’d casually wrap his coat around your shoulders on the rare occasion it was chilly, sometimes risk awkwardly reaching for your hand. He’d never been forward with you thus far, making it clear that while he wanted more, he didn’t feel like he deserved it. He wasn’t the best choice for you. He was meant to support you, to bolster your hope, not be a romantic equal. Tonight, it felt a little different, though. You wanted your relationship to move to the next level. You were going crazy, left with only the gentle embraces or leaning against him on his bed to satisfy you until your next fix. You needed more.

“Well… goodnight (Y/N),” Nagito flashed you a sideways grin, hesitating as if something were on his mind before turning to return to his cabin alone. You’d met his eyes and he looked away, already beginning his trek back. You reached out, grasping the tips of his fingers then securely moving your way up his arm to halt him.

“Nagito, wait…” He snapped his ghostly white face back to you immediately, expectantly almost…

“Yeah?” You swallowed nervously, losing the confidence and adrenaline rush when his eyes searched yours. He had a way of making butterflies appear in your stomach. He was just… so pretty, especially in the low lighting, especially with your nerves on fire. “What is it, (Y/N)...?” He stepped closer when the silence lingered.

“I, well… don’t go, yet…” You struggled to find the words. You couldn’t just ask straight out, right?

“Okay… I’ll stay. Is something wrong?” He hadn’t known you to ever be nervous or at a loss of words around him. That was everyone else’s job.

“Well, I want to… well…” he stepped a bit closer and your heart rate picked up. “Is it okay if maybe, I kiss you?” He felt his heart sink. His eyes went wide, pupils blown out in disbelief, but yet he stepped closer, as if his body and mind were at opposition.

“What? You want to kiss someone like me? Why would you-”

“If you don’t want to, please, it’s okay. Seriously, we don’t have to-.” You started back tracking immediately, thinking maybe you’d gone too far.

“Well of course I want to, but… I mean someone like me would only soil you. Can you imagine my filthy lips on y-”

“I do imagine your lips… a lot.” You spoke barely above a whisper, and he moved closer once more, until your chest lightly bumped against his.

“Really? Wow, I can’t imagine such a shining beacon of hope such as yourself wanting anything to do with me…” His eyes darted between yours and your bottom lip, feeling the stirrings of desire in the pit of his stomach.

“You say that a lot, you know… I wish you wouldn’t.” You tilted your head slightly, leaning in gently, extending your neck just barely.

“Are you sure about this?” His voice took on a slightly husky tone, and he didn’t stop you when your lips bumped against his, so reluctantly, so jittery. When he didn’t pull away, you pressed a little harder.

Almost like his cautious and unsure mood from just before was a merely a farce, he tilted his head to match, and his lips melted into yours like they were meant to fit together. Touch-starved and needy, he brought two shaky hands up to clutch onto your shoulders, as if you’d blow away with the wind if he didn’t. Allowing you very little time or room to breathe, his tongue found its way past your lips and brushed against yours. He felt you return the gesture with even more enthusiasm, and you heard as much as felt him moan into your mouth. The rumble in his chest sent sparks to your brain. He moved one hand around your waist, the other grabbing the back of your neck desperately, pulling you further in when you couldn’t physically be any closer. He was frantic, needing more and more of you. His mind was racing with so many thoughts at once.

Needing air urgently, you pulled away and found him hesitant to let go. So you didn’t. Not wanting to part from him either, you rested your forehead against his, bringing your hands up to run through his cloud of messy white locks.

Kokichi Ouma

Kokichi is not shy.

He is bold, teasing, and very loud about his feelngs for you.

Because while he loved to lie, your flustered reactions to his affections were so much more rewarding.

When it came to kissing, well there was no better way to rile you up and get that reaction he was looking for.

He loves PDA.

Kissing you in public was not only a way to mess with you, but to show the world you belonged to him.

He would do drive by kisses, running up to you for a peck then scampering off before you had a moment to process.

He would make bets, games, dares where you had to kiss him if you lost.

Kokichi was not nice.

When he made out with you in the privacy of your own dorm rooms, he was rough and unforgiving. He liked your little yips and gasps of surprise.

He would nibble at your jaw…

Bite your bottom lip a little too hard and lick up the bead of blood that spilled out…

Wrap one hand around your throat to keep you in place…

Sometimes he would tease you, hovering his lips over yours until you were nearly begging him to just kiss you already.

Your embarrassment was super cute to him.

When he was really into it, sometimes he’d pull at your hair or grab your backside, and when your lips parted to gasp, shoved his tongue in, an opportunist.

The First Kiss

You were traipsing about with Kokichi, investigating the newly unlocked areas of the academy. Exploring the vast and mysterious campus was daunting alone, but super fun with Kokichi by your side. You bounced between recently opened labs while Kokichi bothered their owners.

After a while, as the day was winding down and you’d begun to run low on energy, you sat with Kokichi on the top step of the flight of stairs just down the hall from Kiyo’s lab. The atmosphere was dark and gloomy, like the set of a horror film. You’d never have come up to this floor alone. You wondered why such a cheery girl like Angie had her lab - used to create beautiful art - on such a spooky floor. Kokichi, of course, had been messing with you the whole time, claiming he’d seen a dark shadow down the hall or that he swore he heard Kiyo hatching an evil plan in his lab earlier. You’d punched his shoulder, begging him to cut it out before you ran back to your dorm and left him behind. Looking down the creaky steps, you spoke a warning to him:

“Kokichi, I’m serious! You know this place freaks me out already. I don’t need you adding to i- mmph!” Your words were cut off, muffled into an awkward noise when Kokichi’s lips crashed onto yours. Your eyes widened in shock, but his were closed as he kissed you and pulled back just as fast. He leaned back on his hands, smirking mischeviously at you.

“W-what was that for?!” You sputtered, feeling your pulse throb in your chest.

“Huh? What do you mean?” Kokichi feigned innocence, his mouth agape in a childish look of guilt.

“You kissed me???” Your brows furrowed suspiciously.

“Well, I like you!” He grinned genuinely. “I know you like me too~! I heard you talking to Saihara about it the other day!” You were shocked at his apparent spying on you and would address it later, but he was right. You did have a crush on Kokichi, and you’d spoken to your close friend Shuichi about it at length, but you’d never have told Kokichi himself. You expected a swift and humiliating rejection if you did. You liked Kokichi a lot actually, but thought that to him, you were nothing more than a plaything, a way to avoid boredom because you tolerated him unlike most of your peers. A friend at most.

Your mind was racing, wondering how he could confess his feelings for you so bluntly, so plainly… Wasn’t he nervous at all? Was this a lie? Who can state that they like someone as more than a friend so casually?

But then you remembered that this was Kokichi. He wasn’t like other people. He was unique, for sure. You’d never met anyone like him.

“If you knew, why didn’t you tell me before?” You questioned, disbelief in your voice. He really was something else. “Ahhh!” You cried out as you were pushed backwards suddenly, now laying flat on the floor against the landing of the stairs. Kokichi jumped astride you, ignoring your question and straddling your waist. With a devilish grin he looked at you, pinned down below him. “Kokichi!” You squealed, not able to do much else. Your limbs felt like jelly and you couldn’t make eye contact with him.

“Awww I love that embarrassed expression on you~! You know, (Y/N)... you’re kinda cute this way.” He leaned down, letting the tip of his nose wiggle against yours. “You want more?” He mused, his tone low and impish. Turning your head away from him shyly, you paused, thinking about if you should humiliate yourself by playing along first, before nodding in response.

“Then beg for it…” he frowned down at you, deadly serious and commanding an intimidating presence.

“Stop it, Kokichi! You’re being cruel…” You threw an arm over your eyes, obscuring him from view, wishing you could just disappear at this very moment. You couldn’t take the teasing anymore. You were used to it from him, but not in this way. Never in this way.

“Come on now… if you act like that, I won’t kiss you ever again!” He crinkled his nose and furrowed his brow in disapproval. Your ears perked up at that, and you acted on instinct, reaching up and grabbing his checkered bandana in a vice-like grip. His mouth fell agape just a little, brows raising. “Oh, so that’s how it is~” he snickered.

He knew he had you in his trap, just where he wanted you. You tugged on the bandana, and he let you, bringing his lips down to hover right above yours. You closed your eyes expectantly, waiting for a kiss that never came. After a second, you felt the weight of his body lift off of you, and your eyes fluttered open in disappointment.

“Kokichi?” You sat up to see him already a few steps ahead of you, ready to make a break for it.

“Tell you what… if you can catch me, I’ll take you back to your room and kiss you all you want~!” He gestured flippantly to you, waving his hand, and took off at the speed of light.

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we-stan-cale · 2 months

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I have enjoyed some of the TCF reaction fics, but I feel like there's a major problem.

Namely, that it's really hard for fic writers to stay motivated for over 700+ chapters, so it feels like they all start off strong for the beginning (especially rescuing Raon) and then peter out. We never get to the really good stuff.

Never reach that flashback when Cale reads the letter from the GoD, or see reactions to Choi Han rushing over to see Kim Rok Soo after getting Choi Jung Soo's records. Never have them see the Sealed God's test, and really... Post-apocalyptic Korea horrified Alberu, for good reason. Not that it's explicitly stated, but when is it ever? He had quite the reaction when he was trying to decide what to tell everyone else.

I've had some thoughts on how I would do it, but fair warning - I'm not much of a writer, and will probably never write it. All my respect for the ones that regularly write fanfic because I have like - less than a handful? Maybe, maybe, if I haven't moved on after finishing this reread, I'll try writing it myself.

The other thing is that I've been reading part 2 - only as far as eatapplepies has translated as I find mtl more confusing than helpful - and I'm really liking the Heavenly Demon. He seems to have fallen for our Cale pretty hard, and I'm interested in seeing how that goes.

So I have been playing around with ideas.

First - Dodam is trying to find 'that terrible bastard', and is dragging around his Choi Han.

He reaches Korea. Og!Cale as KRS, specifically. He has his own attribute, one to help him track down Cale, so he can pull up visions/memories related to that.

He pulls up the dream meeting between Cale and KRS.

There are a few team 1 members present, particularly Kim Minh Ah. Cue a bit of chaos, some 'aha' moments, and the long and the short of it is Dodam is going to pull up some of just what they're team leader is up to. (And if Dodam can figure out exactly which world or dimension to to next, and OG! Cale gets the bittersweet ability to see how his deal with the God of Death prevented the destruction he'd lived through, well... That's fine too)

During that brief moment, the Henituse noticed some strange mana fluctuations and managed to get Rosalyn there. She's basically able to tap into the feed and see and hear what's going on.

And divine intervention (like perhaps a god of love) extends the feed to the Heavenly Demon.

What would follow would be an abbreviated version of the key points. Sure, it loses some of the flavor... But we don't actually need, say, the amusing anecdote where an elf mistook Cale for a dragon.

Anyways, the more I thought about it the more I thought about how team 1 would react.

Because the minute they see those monster statues you know they'll all be going 'what the fuck?!?'

They will probably also nod knowingly at some of Cale's more shocking plans. Like hey, there he goes agreeing to help the Mogoru Empire put out the fire he started with the Whipper kingdom.

Nod, nod

Just like he did when they were dealing with that one corrupt guild

And if they ever get as far as seeing the Heavenly Demon, I'm sure one team member will be like 'Is.. is he flirting with Team Leader-nim?!?'

Cue stories where Team Leader Kim Rok Soo avoided a honeypot - except now they're thinking maybe he was just too dense to notice?

#tcf #lcf #trash of the count's family #cale henituse #reaction fic #fic ideas

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daydreamsandcrashingwaves · 3 months

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KICTTC 5

I'm BACK helloooo! Oh my goodness friends! I have so much to tell you all! So I kinda was collar grabbed by this story so my edit of chapter 4 is SO different from what I posted here, SOOOOO I'm posting a bit of the edited Ch4 so no one misses out on plot! ahhh I've been so excited to share this all with you!!!! Transference chapter 3 is in the works as well as a secret WIP! I really wanna focus of my first two stories though so Idk when that will be up or what an update schedule might look like.

Anyways the Angst is strong, the trauma and body horror is as strong as the blasphemous tea I brew, read at your own leisure I aint yo mama lol

Stay safe, give yourself grace, take your meds, get some sun, burrow in a blanket nest, drink water and eat a snack lovelies!

~Ren

Once Danny makes a decision he throws himself in head first, this will be no different. Danny has to start at the beginning. He must tell them everything to have a hope of them understanding how Danny ended up dropping through a portal to his brother’s side. For… their family to understand what true danger hunts him even now.

Dick sips his cup of coffee only to look at it betrayed when it’s bitter and cold. He has been in Bruce’s study watching the live feed of the recovery room for hours. He managed to drag himself to bed when Alfred had insisted but his dreams had been plagued with Danyal trembling on the floor, knife hilt deep in his small neck, the sight of them in the doorway had made him panic and then he was bleeding out, his breath gurgling in his throat as he died. It was an awful way to wake up and he couldn’t even go check on Danyal in person! Damian had cashed in a lot of the blackmail he’s kept on them to keep them away. While Dick was proud of his little brother’s emotional growth, seeing their youngest in person would go a long way for Dick to shake off his nightmare. He is a bat though so he will endure, especially because this involves his family, his brothers.

As the sun started dipping below the horizon behind the curtains Tim walked into the study with two large cups filled to the top with coffee, one with a ton of sugar and cream the other plain black coffee, “Awe Timmy! You brought me coffee!” Dick snatches the plain one up with a smirk.

Tim just grumbles at his grabby hands and relinquishes the cup. He shuffles over to the couch and pulls out his laptop to work on something- Dick isn’t sure where Tim had managed to safely carry the computer with two fresh coffees- and promptly ignores the others as they file in the next ten or so minutes. Judging by the dark circles under everyone’s eyes, sleep was hard to come by.

Bruce is slumped into his chair watching the twins. No one breaks the silence. Dick eyes Jason from where his brother has propped himself against the wall out of the way Their father’s shoulders are tense in anger. So Talia is probably giving him the slip. He can’t help but feel resentment for the woman who keeps secrets that hurt his family. She knows that people don’t always stay dead. When Jason died, the only reason Dick had to face it, recognize that his little brother was dead was because they had his body as sure proof he had been murdered. Dick has seen many times how Bruce grieves and it’s never good. Adding in a twin? Bruce is holding himself together with sheer will power and meticulous training. Bruce might be almost impossible to read but he was the first boy to be adopted. He has more Bruce experience than anyone else in the family but Alfred. He can see the cracks.

Turning back to the screen Dick lets out a little coo at the image. Damian is awake and is looking at Danyal like he’d disappear from under the blanket they share. The boy carefully extracts himself to use the restroom that’s tucked away in the corner. When he comes back onto the screen he is changed into his sweatpants and a t-shirt Dick recognizes as his own. He also spots a change of clothes for Danyal in his arms, which he sets on the side table next to the bed before Damian goes around refilling the water pitcher and glass to be ready for use, setting fresh towels out.

Turning his attention to the younger boy, he can see how sickly the boy is when they’re side by side to compare. His pale skin shows off the dark veins underneath, his cheeks are caving into his face, all his baby fat eaten away, dark bruises under his eyes, and with how injured he was… it’s not telling a pretty story. Dick is confident that if Danyal hadn’t dropped out of the rafters in that warehouse they’d never know he could’ve been out there. He desperately needed help even if he hadn’t realized it yet. Bruce and Dick watch Damian crawl back into bed, Danny doesn’t wake but he does turn towards where Damian has frozen owl-eyed. An arm snags the bottom edge of Damian’s shirt and like a signal the rest of his limbs follow to entwine them together. It’s very cute. With a smirk Dick takes out his phone and snaps a quick picture. It’s unlikely to truly upset Damian since it’s probably the only picture that they have of the twins together right now, but however Damian responds when he knows the picture exists will be satisfying.

“Are we gonna get on with it or just sit in silence with our thumbs up our asses?” Jason glares, looking significantly more tense. He stares down the room while crossing his arms across his chest.

Dick sees Bruce’s shoulders square up like he’s bracing for a physical punch instead of the verbal jab. Batman has an almost obsessive need to know everything he can about a situation, it was one of his many lessons that they as his children made into muscle memory. Knowledge made carefully crafted contingency plans that kept their family safe on and off the streets. Something to hold, to have in reserve for when they need it. To be thrown so many unknowns in the shape of a brother was unsettling them all.

“Jason.” Dick throws him a disappointed look from where he stands by Bruce, placing a hand on his shoulder to diffuse the argument that would shortly explode. “Danyal hasn’t been conscious, he hasn’t had the chance to explain anything yet, has he?” He raises his eyebrow at his brother. The family might not always reach an agreement on, well most things, but Dick knows his younger brother cares. He does. He won’t admit it but he’s here. Red Hood sticks to Crime Alley, looking after his people and- though he won’t claim them- his kids. One glance at Danyal’s wounded, still form was all it took to gain his loyalty. Red Hood liked to take his aggression out on those who disrespect his claim. Jason’s impulse to run off and hunt the monsters who could harm a child this way was poorly hidden. Dick understood the feeling so he didn’t push further.

Jason sneered at his words but didn’t bite back, just turned his impatient gaze towards Tim. “I’m sure Tim has been doing more digging than sleeping.”

Bruce inhales sharply drawing all of their attention. He’s looking at the monitor, hitting the unmute, Damian’s voice floods the room. “I simply meant you only have to tell me what has happened since we were separated… Once, here. I-We had thought you would prefer what privacy we can afford while we determined who had made the grave mistake of harming you. The family, while well intentioned, can be overwhelming. It is difficult gathering everyone and having them sit quietly for extended periods of time and our family is… large.”

Damian’s description brought a small smile to Dick’s face. Danyal’s quiet reply dimmed the edges because he sounded so young.

The whole group shifted and was laser focused on their new family member. Dick can’t think of any way to describe this whole situation as wrong as he took in what he could see.. It had nothing to do with Danny himself, or maybe it was more accurate to say whatever made his newly claimed baby brother look like that was what was firing off all his finely honed warning bells. A glance around at the others makes it clear they’re all, for once, on the same page.

If Bruce’s glare could kill the poor monitor would’ve been smoking at this point. Danyal was clearly at the end of his rope. Dick will admit as much as it irks him Damian was right to sequester the recovery room and keep Danyal in a calm area. They watch in horror as Danyal starts to speak. He was hesitant and nervous at first but slowly gained confidence when Damian didn’t react adversely.

The rest of them didn’t have to restrain themselves.

“What the actual fuck?” That’s Tim’s angry voice, Dick shutters. He sounds like he’s already started on researching his shit list by the furious tapping that comes from the couch. Drs Fenton, the Ghost Investigation Ward, and Vlad Masters can’t possibly know what is coming for them. Dick isn’t sure whether to step in when Jason sinks down into the couch next to their younger brother and they immediately start whispering between themselves.

He decides after a long look at the twins murmuring to each other that he would rather check on Bruce. “B?”

The man that stands firm against Gotham’s most unsavory rogues, looks back at him lost. His eyes get drawn back to his sons on the screen, “He’s so small Dick. I-” It’s rare Bruce breaks in composure and Dick’s chest squeezes. His father looks haunted.

“We’re here for him now, B.” He says gently. There are no words he could say that can erase what is already done.

They listen to Tim and Jason in the background while watching Damian help Danyal get out of bed. Once on his feet Danyal waves his twin away. He’s weak and shaky but they breathe a bit easier when his legs don’t give out underneath his body weight. The short walk to the bathroom door seemed to have winded him. Danyal reaches for the wall and presses into it while he pauses. And pauses.

Damian hasn’t rushed to his side so Dick tries not to panic. He probably needs a moment to gather himself. “Do you think we need to send Alfred down?” He asks Bruce.

“What?” Tim and Jason both looked up at him in tandem.

“Danyal! He was- well he is- fine. But look! He’s all hunched like he can’t breathe right? Why is Damian just watching?” Dick frets wringing his hands.

Attention diverted from their plans of destruction the two leave the couch and crowd around Bruce’s desk.

“Oh fuck!” Tim curses, roughly rolling Bruce’s chair away from the keyboard. “I don’t know how they did it but I think the feed was paused, or spliced or looped. I’m trying to override it- Ah! I got it!”

The feed clears and they all blink at the empty room. The bathroom door is open and Danyal’s things that were by the door are gone.

Bruce jumps out of his chair. “What were they doing right before?”

Tim pulls up the saved file and finds the moments right before the glitch. “They’re hugging?” A few lines of code and Tim has the background volume boosted. A hushed conversation in Arabic reaches their ears.

“Okay Danyal, I understand and will help you,” Damian studies his brother for a moment, “how can I help you best in this moment Danyal, what is it you want.”

They watch Danyal look around at the room, fear leaking in now that he’s not focused on the boy with him. “I can’t be here. I won’t heal.”

Bruce flinches like Danyal had hit him.

They embraced, and whatever else was said was too muffled to pick up.

They watch entranced, like a bruise you can’t help but press on, as the scene plays out and ends with Danyal leaning against the wall.

“They can’t have gotten far, the demon brat wouldn’t risk hurting his precious twin, Dickie-Bird and I can fetch the chicks that flew the nest.” Jason sighs.

Bruce’s phone rings and they all look at it with reluctance. That’s Oracle’s ringtone so it’s important. Dick swipes the device and answers with a quick, “O, we’ve got a situation, please tell me this is important.”

“Yeah it is,” Barbra agrees, “if you guys were gonna patrol why wasn’t I looped in, huh?”

Dick exchanges a confused look with the others. “Uh no, O, we agreed no patrol tonight, Black Bat, Signal, and Spoiler were our covers.”

“Then why is the Batmobile headed towards the edge of town?”

They, with years of experience fighting side by side, spring in sync for the hidden entrance and pile into the elevator to the cave to change and to track down their brothers.

~~~~~~~

Gotham was unusually muggy this evening. Bruce could feel the sweat drip down his scalp and his suit was already damp. Breath blazed through his lungs yet brought him no warmth. He had to suppress his instinct to shiver. Fear was all he could feel. It was bone chillingly familiar. Nothing like Scarecrow’s toxin yet he was still sinking deeper into glacier littered water. As Batman, Bruce has taken many hits, faced the cruel underbelly of Gotham from the shadows and had said enough. Birthed from vengeance and relentlessly courting justice, he gets back up, keeps moving, doesn’t stay down even when he probably should. No one else had managed to stand against the city’s rogues. Every night he embraces their seething rage that blistered the streets and exploded buildings. Batman turns towards danger, not away. He is the shield that protects his city's people from the impact the best he can. It’s never enough. Batman has flung himself head first into a race that had long since started.

In the rare hours he is alone surrounded by the soft glow of the Batcomputer and the quiet rustling of sleeping bats he can admit, those first years, he had enjoyed the vicious fights. Tangoing with death each night. He was entranced, he would dance until the curtain dropped. It was a destructive cycle he couldn’t escape. As he’s aged his compulsion to run off has cooled, and it was only after the first time Dick got more than just a few bruises did he realize the true cost. Even if he couldn’t stop them, perhaps he should’ve tried harder to work with his children to ensure their safety. A family of vigilantes was a double edged blade. His curse to bear. The curse he spread. Every night his heart is split into pieces and goes with them as they stalk their prey from within the shadows. His children amaze terrify him in how they’ve all risen to fight back the miasma that threatens to swallow Gotham whole.

He doesn’t know Danyal, has never learned what his favorite breakfast is or seen him off to school. They have never shared late night training sessions. His youngest has never fallen asleep sequestered away in his own world working on a case and for Bruce to find him and tuck him into bed like he has with all of his children at least once. No. He was never given a chance. Danyal’s existence was hidden from him. His death was a secret Damian was manipulated into thinking he had to carry the weight alone. And people believed Batman to be some sort of legendary detective. If Bruce was less controlled he might scoff at the thought. He missed things, big and small, all the time. Most often it was his children that were affected by his carelessness, his lack of understanding.

He knows what it is to lose a son. In death and because of his own parental ineptitude. Bruce knows what it is for his world to spin out from under his feet and to let his rage blindly guide him. Bruce risks a glance at Jason, his walking, talking, breathing miracle. Why couldn’t he just say that to the person who needed to hear it. Jason had died, it was awful, truly awful. As an adult he has never felt so lost. Jason was only a child. A brilliant, bright, life snuffed out in the cruelest way only for some universal hiccup to thrust his soul back into body and for Talia to pick him up. They’ve never talked about the Y-incision that spans his entire torso. Jason hadn’t intended for him to see it. Bruce doesn’t know who is responsible. He doesn’t know if they dare breathe another breath on Earth. He’s afraid to ask. He’s afraid of what he’ll do if they aren’t already dead. No, the only thing he knew about it was what Jason had deliriously shared with him while sick with whooping cough. The cut may have happened but that was as far as they got. His ribs remained intact, his organs undisturbed. Bruce has to trust Jason told him the truth. Bruce hadn’t had the strength to imagine alternatives.

He has no choice now. Whatever Danyal’s journey has been, wherever he’s been. Bruce despairs that his youngest’s life journey has been too similar to Jason’s. Danny had listed off to Damian the multitude of injuries he had and Bruce just knew. Two of his sons have been dehumanized, valued as objects for other’s use, to state their curiosity. His youngest didn’t just get cut into, as despicable as that already was, no, he was awake, aware, alive as some sick fuck rooted around behind his ribs. (Half-alive. His gut rolls at the implications yet it brings none of his usual suspicions to draw his attention to what his son was hiding. Only he wasn’t hiding, not from the Wayne family. No, he had shared everything with very little prompting from Damian. Danyal was running from them) Bruce could only stare at the screen in his office in horror. How fast did his regenerative ability work to regrow his harvested organs? Did he have to break wrongly healed bones and had to hold them in place until they healed enough for him to escape or did his bones snap forcefully into place on their own-

It’s a race against time now. Danyal is in no condition to be on the run. It would crush him to send him away but Bruce would. He can find a secure place away from him for his son if that’s what it took to make him feel safe enough to rest. Recovery needs to be his number one priority, he had been slowly relaxing with Damian yet as soon as he wasn’t disoriented he fled. What does that say about how he thinks they’ll treat him? What does it say about Bruce that Damain felt he could better protect his twin alone?

Bruce forces himself to reach for his comms and connects to the main comm line they use for patrols. “Everyone, change of plans, keep your eyes open for both boys. They fled from the cave in the Batmobile, hail the line immediately if they’re sighted, I don’t expect Robin to linger once it stops.” Bruce internally curses at himself that he didn’t think to have some sort of code for his youngest. He’s known for creating contingency plans for his contingency plans, yet he is not prepared for this. He could’ve never prepared himself for the knowledge he had not one blood son but two, twins. He couldn’t be too revealing incase someone was listening. “We’re in pursuit of the Batmobile now. Remember the boys are both League trained, Robin likely will have some tricks he’ll play.. The boy’s full capabilities are still unknown and he is heavily injured, proceed with caution, the boy is likely running on instinct, resistance is expected. We want to avoid making them feel cornered.” His tone is tight with worry, He doesn’t blame Danyal for being suspicious. He may be their father, but as far as he knows it wouldn’t be safe. Well, Bruce can’t blame either of them, they’re children, his children. He will blame their mother though. “We want them to get them home safe with no further injuries.”

Some very distant part of him is proud of Damian for unequivocally having his brother’s back, if only they could bond over things that didn’t shave years off his life. Bruce has never been more stressed. Some day soon he’ll just have to embrace the grey that was sprouting in his black hair and give Alfred relief from helping him hide them.

“Copy that B-man! Our eyes are peeled!” Spoiler responds “I’m currently in Burnley, Orphan’s got Somerset covered and Signal is in Old Gotham! If they’re out here we’ll find them.”

“From what Oracle sent, I think I should be able to pick something up with my powers, I’ll keep trying while we move, B.” Signal pipes in.

“Thank you Signal.” Bruce is flooded with relief. He really is lucky to have them, there’s no one else he’d rather have at his back. They’ve all grown into their own. He tries not to sigh.

Discovering the twins missing had sent them scrambling, even Jason had looked worried and tucked away his instinct to question him or to argue, his second son had simply followed them down to the cave. At this rate he may get an ulcer. He had felt panic steal his critical thinking, as he led his boys south towards where the Batmoblie was speeding away faster than they could grapple. He had to find them. Gotham isn’t safe at night and Danyal’s movements will be restricted if he deems it important not to rip his stitches.

Moving through the air usually calmed him but tonight grappling wasn’t moving him around fast enough. Taking the Batmobile was smart of his sons, he begrudgingly had to admit, not only was it faster, the boys would be hidden inside. If Robin had driven his bike he’d have superior maneuverability even though Batman could’ve followed them faster, but if the boys had impacted something during a high speed chase to flee? They’d both be thrown. Danyal is already severely injured anything additional.. Bruce couldn’t make himself focus on that.

His Trouble Twins probably planned it this way to slow them down. To throw them off their tracks. It was working, the boys had a 10 minute lead on their group. They’d left as soon as they had suited up but they still were too far out of reach. Away from the protective shadow of his cape. He couldn’t protect them now that they left the safety of the manor. Jason was cursing underneath him on the street racing past buildings on his bike, he was slightly ahead of Batman and Nightwing’s position in the air, on the bike next to him Tim was working with Barbara to try and get eyes on the boys. Quiet suggestions on what to look for. Shadows that move unnaturally, flashes of color there and gone, how they needed an algorithm up to analyze all of the feeds simultaneously. With the many cameras in Gotham-more than half Bruce had bought for the city to install- they wouldn’t be so hard to find. They shouldn't be so difficult to find, but Damian was particularly slippery when he put in the effort. Bruce glanced at his eldest besides him.

Dick was one long string pulled too tight. He, of course, was still chatting happily with Barbara but his smile was strained at the edges, his movements too careful and precise. He hasn’t joked once. The possibility the man would snap increases the longer the twins are missing. It’s rare to see Dick outwardly expressing something other than the pure sunshine and patience. By the time Jason had come around he had curbed most of his bloodlust, it was a faint memory by the time Tim weaseled his way into their lives. It reminds Bruce too much of Brucie. The persona that he developed to hide from the vultures that would’ve taken everything from him as a child when tragedy struck. Before Bruce had decided to be active in Gotham’s social scene he knew it was better they underestimate poor orphaned Bruce Wayne. Brucie hid Batman, a shield to protect his family from those who would expose their secrets. He was necessary, even if Bruce felt suffocated most of the time. Was Dick hiding from him?

He has to suppress a shutter. All his children to some degree, whether on or off the streets, have adapted to Batman’s mannerisms and habits. It was essential to survive facing the threats they do. Dick though fell more into Bruce’s habits. His eldest son, who with a smile looked after his siblings while Bruce was distracted by some crisis or another.They both often blamed themselves for things they couldn’t stop or foresee. That heavy invisible weight that sits on their shoulders because they claimed it. Bruce knows that he’s failed his children, Dick.. Dick in particular has had to step up on his behalf to smooth things over between family members. Forced to become another parent to the kids he brought home. It was never Dick’s responsibility and it’s taken time and a lot of effort but Bruce is making steps forward, trying to stop repeating the same mistakes. It was only Alfred’s guidance and help raising the boy that he excelled instead of crumbling under Bruce’s incompetence. Bruce was trying though. Even if it was hard to talk about casually, he was in therapy, it was.. Helping. He’s not putting so much of himself onto his children these days. He’s been processing his thoughts and feelings instead of bottling them inside and letting his anger rule him.

Words though, they still escaped him on the best days. Today was shaping up into an absolutely horrible one. Bruce wanted to say something to reassure his sons that things would be okay. None sounded right. He let them choke him. If they could just find Danyal. As much as it would pain Bruce, his youngest doesn’t have to stay with them-with him. Bruce could never trap him here. He… He just wants Danyal to recover. Recover and be safe, whatever that looks like. The boy looked so small next to Damian. They’re twins and Danyal was so small on that bed next to his brother, all skin and bones, his skin stretched over his face making him look years older and the blood, oh God, it took a second but once they realized all that green was coming from inside of him, Bruce was sure they were going to be planning another funeral. The Y-shaped wound was gruesome and he had stared in shock. Another one of his children getting cut open, violated. Vivisected. He was going to mourn another child. He was going to puke. He was going to destroy those who dared to touch Danyal. A heady mix of vengeance and justice for a boy he’d never properly meet. Somehow though, the boy had stabilized. His boy, another one. He’s too old for surprise kids. Only to be spirited away by Damian behind layers and layers of traps that had made the family hesitate and then they were gone, on the run with Alfred’s careful stitches being the only thing holding Danyal together.

What were they thinking? Why wasn’t I? Why didn’t I fight Damian harder when he locked them out of the recovery room? No…Danyal was already compromised. Damian saw this and ran from his family because he didn’t trust them to protect Danyal, didn’t trust them not to set him off. Maybe they would’ve made it worse, maybe his son was right even if Bruce didn’t want to admit it. Damian was saving them from an error. The boy who he had only met unconscious or through a screen, would’ve lashed out at himself again and they would’ve caused his-

“B? The Batmobile’s tracker has stopped moving on the edge of Burnside near the Craig Bridge. I can’t get a clear view.” Oracle reports

“Hn.” He adjusts his trajectory and his sons follow suit, adjusting their positions to be out behind him in a V-shaped formation. If someone were to see them at this hour they’d see the vigilantes and would draw parallels between them and their namesakes, in normal circumstances it might bring a ghost of a smile across his face, they were a mixed bag flock. His flock. His family. He was thankful to have them at his back tonight. They’d find the boys, they had to. They still had nothing on the threat that was nipping at Danyal’s heels. If they were caught…

“Why would the Demon Brats go there?” Jason grumbles. They’re three blocks away now so Bruce has to fight his nausea down. They might have to subdue the boys if they won’t listen to reason. The idea of injuring Danyal further or obliterating any chance to build a relationship because he sees them as a threat rather than family. He has to stay firm though. He might have not been allowed in the room but between Alfred’s worried fretting and the security feed Bruce is very aware how Danyal shouldn’t be moving let alone going on the run with Damian. If Danyal would just let him explain he had options maybe he’d come back on his own.

“Hood, Red Robin, hang back and spread out. Start searching. I’d like to have our newest addition to Agent A within the hour. Nightwing with me.”

His grapple connects to the next roof and he leans into the arc so his path can wrap around the corner. Just ahead the Batmobile is stopped. The doors were open, no signs of the boys or of a struggle. Bruce knows they won’t find anything inside the Batmobile, Damian is efficient and clean in his work, but they look anyway. Bruce shares a look with his oldest and sighs.

“Nothing in the Batmobile, Hood, Red Robin, report.” He shoots his grapple at the closest roof to get a better view of the surrounding area, Nightwing follows closely behind him.

“Nothing that I can see.” Hood grunts.

“Nothing here either, no alerts from the cameras.” Red Robin sounds frustrated, “You don’t think they bailed in a dead zone, do you? Robin wouldn’t have him jump from a speeding vehicle, right?”

“Hn.” Bruce refuses to acknowledge that thought. Even if it was a likely option, if they felt it necessary to throw them off to that degree. Dick is quiet next to him. He wants to say the right thing to ease his worries. Bruce has never been good at finding the right words, to reassure without false promises but will always try, “We’ll figure out what happened, Chum.”

Dick looks at him for a long moment. Bruce lets him and tries not to shutter himself away. Dick needs Bruce more than Batman right now. “Yeah,” It comes out grim, “before or after my youngest brother reopens something?”

Bruce squeezes his son’s shoulder before turning away and shoots his grapple at the next roof. Right before he jumps he says, “We can only hope the boys are being careful and try our best to find them.”

#daydreamsandcrashingwaves #dc x dp #jason todd #tim drake #dick grayson #bruce wayne #batpham #demon twins au #danny fenton whump #danny and damian are twins #Keeping it close to the chest #fic writing #KICTTC fic #KICTTC update #my writing #lets just say this is more of a sneak peak ;3 #danny fenton #damian wayne #WHERE DID THEY GO BWAHAHAHHAHa

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adventuringblind · 9 months

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Drive With You Forever

Chapter Thirteen: Find Me Always

Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc x Lando Norris x Reader x Oscar Piastri

Chapter summary: the aftermath of the escape

Warnings: depictions of abuse, medical malpractice, creepy doctor does creepy things, nightmares, panic attacks, restraints, medical terminology that is probably wrong, injury description, needles

Notes: I’m having fun with this 👀

Previous <-

Masterlist

Heat. The cozy feeling of warmth. His hand intertwined with one of his lovers. It's a great way to wake up. Even for being stuck in the hospital.

He knows where he is based on the steady hum and beep of machines. The scratchy feeling of the sheets beneath him. The bright florescent lights that make him want to cringe.

He looks to his hand. Max is slumped over his bed. The Dutch snoring quietly.

He shifts around to get his bearings. A few plain paintings of the wall. A decently sized window. Bland colored walls.

He tries not to think about what happened. He'd woken up several times in the bunker to gunshots. Moved them to a different corridor. Then fell back into a cold sleep.

They'd run into trouble at one point. A stray bullet grazed his side while another punctured the females thigh.

That was the last time they moved as he did his best to stop the bleeding. No healing to rely on. Not that he'd want her to anyways, 'healing' really just means transferring his wounds onto her.

Speaking of her, where is she?

He can't go through this again. She'd woken up spurratically a few times during the escape attempt. She'd told him it would be okay. Her voice was the only thing he had to cling to.

The heart monitor picks up his rising pulse, Max waking up at the sound of rapid beeping. "Breathe, Oscar, you're safe now." He's gentle and quiet and everything people don't get to see when he drives. He does as told and takes some deep breaths.

"Are you feeling okay? Should I go get a doctor?" Oscar finally realizes that doctors and medicine are involved. That means more needles and more drugs. He'd had enough of that. He shakes his head now as the fear rises. "Okay, you're okay, I'm Here, and I won't leave."

"How is everyone else?" His voice is so scratchy he almost doesn't recognize it. The fact that he's in desperate need of water doesn't help.

Max shakes his head in disbelief. "You're the one sitting in a hospital bed, and you're concerned about us?" Max rubs comforting circles into his hand. "Seb dragged Charles and Lando away for food and showers. I'm next after them."

"Where's y/n?"

Max's face drops, and there is a distant look in his eyes. "Who?"

"Y/N? Our girlfriend? The one who boggles us with her mind powers on a daily basis?" He laughs thinking Max is joking. Only for it to twist into concern when he realizes Max isn't laughing.

"I think you're still disoriented. Your crash was really bad."

Crash? What crash? "I was in a bunker or something."

Max's confusions into concern. "I think I'm going to go get the doctor."

Oscar is frantic now. He's pulling out the needles feeding him liquid medicine. Convinced this is the problem. That he's hallucinating again because of the drugs.

He's waking up again. The same postion as last time. But this time, he takes no chances.

He sits himself upright and begins pulling everything off. The needles, the bandages, anything medical related is being ripped from his body.

Max is startled by the sight. His hands grab Oscar's and gently push him back into the bed. He coos calming phrases while Oscar gives up fighting. His lack of energy hitting like a train.

"Please tell me you remember her." He practically sobs.

Max sits in the bed with him. That confused look is almost identical to the previous, and Oscar wants to die because of it. His confusion is replaced by a smile. "I could never forget our girl."

"Where is everyone else? Where is she? I need to see her, Max."

Max sighs at the Aussie's urgency. "Charles and Lando are trying to see her. I can't because I punched someone last time I went to check on her."

"What- why?"

"The doctors found abnormalities in her DNA, and now they've isolated her."

Frantic pleas of the word no fall from his lips like somehow that will change something. Oscar barely has a chance to really notice how tired Max looks. The stress in his blue eyes tells him that the whole situation is bad.

"I'm not sure if this will be good news for you right now. But you've been cleared to race as soon as you want to go back. After they release you, of course." Max throws him a pity smile. It's the best the Dutch can offer at the moment.

She traded one white cell for another. One maniacal scientist for an entire group of them.

She's been restrained and leashed since her latest escape attempt. She wants to go home. She needs to go home.

At least she knows they are all okay. Oscar is alive, and that's what matters. She put every drop of energy she had into keeping alive in those tunnels. She heard the gunshots and took the opportunity. It just sucked they'd been continuing her father's work, and she had been worked to the bone only an hour earlier.

She complied on the basis that they took care of Oscar. She got to go check on him every couple of days. He wasn't coherent, but he was alive. There was a chance they could both make it out.

Then she exerted herself into healing him. She knew that regardless, her body wasn't going to last long, and healing him was their best shot. But she hadn't expected the drugs to be so strong. She could flush them all out of his system. Then there were the freezing tunnels. They did that on purpose to keep her from being able to run. The floors were so cold they burned her.

She pushed through. Before she got to Oscar, she went to the one thing that would for sure get them out of there if she couldn't. She found a phone and called Seb. She almost cried at the sound of his voice, but she couldn't. She needed to tell him where they were.

And they had found them in the cold depths.

Now she's here. Alone and stuck again.

Fate is a cruel mistress.

Her doctor, whose name she does not care to know, comes in with a tray. It's routine at this point. He has done this every hour for the two days she's been here. She wasn't awake for all of it, but the market on her body are all similar.

She has no choice but to let him go about his work.

"Your body is so intriguing, my dear." His voice is cold and smooth. She hates it.

Lando and Oscar have smooth voices. She likes them better. She misses listening to Landos laugh.

Charles and Max have deep voices. They have a calming effect on her. She naturally is able to relax when she hears them speak.

She focuses on that as the doctor opens up a small slit in her arm and tweezes away at different things. Then he sews it up and bandages it like he's done this a million times.

But he doesn't move.

"I wish they would let me look at more of you." He whispers. His index finger traces the curves of her side and all the way down her leg. "If only this stupid gown wasn't in the way."

He leaves without another word. Or maybe there are more words, but she retreated into her mind. Far away from this place and into her memories with her family.

Charles looks like he's ready to punch someone. She's awake and coherent, and they are only isolating her because of her odd DNA. It's most likely the reason for her powers, but they don't need to know that.

Max isn't here because he has already punched someone. Lando is attempting to calm him down and as much as the Brit tries he just can't seem to get his heart to slow.

Good thing Seb is on his way with legal work. He'd contacted his lawyer as soon as he found out they were holding her in isolation. Unable to see anyone after what she just came out of.

Seb was bringing an answer.

It's a beautiful sight to see him March right by the two and into some office they assumed was the person in charge.

"Charles, please breathe. I'm already panicking and can't keep the both of us calm."

"I'm sorry chéri." He sighs. The Monegasque takes a seat beside Lando. The two intertwine their hands together. Charles decides to change the subject to distract themselves and pass the time until they can see her. Even if it's a no, he's breaking down the door.

"What should the first thing we do be when we get back home?"

"Food. A buffet of our favorite cheat meals." Lando lets hints of a smile ghost his lips.

"Then we'll cuddle in bed."

"And play some games."

"Maybe a bath."

"You mean relax in the hot tub together? The bath isn't big enough for all of us." Charles teases.

"Same thing."

Charles crinkled his nose in disgust. "You need a bath. You smell like a young boy who has yet to learn hygiene."

Lando playfully hits his shoulder. "That's rude. You should be ashamed of yourself."

The sound of the office door opening steals both their attention. Seb comes out with a grin on his face, alerting the boys that he is victorious.

The nurses let them into the room as they started removing her hospital dressings. Both Lando and Charles hate the sight and want to break because of it, but they don't. They stay strong. Well- Charles more then Lando.

The girl, on the other hand, is struggling to get to them. She fights her restraints, only hurting herself worse in the process.

"Slow down, amour. They have to get them off of you." Charles is holding her in a way that let's the nurses do their job. They shoot him an appreciative glance.

"Is Oscar okay? Are you guys okay?" She asks with an air of urgency.

"Yes, we're all okay, Oscar has even been cleared to race again. Somehow, the damage to his body wasn't even close to yours." Lando eyes her knowingly, and she just shrugs at him.

She walks out with them but gets into Sebs car.

"I don't think we'll ever be safe." She admits.

"Maybe not. But someone will always be there to find you when you can't find them."

Home is once again a new place. They have once again moved apartments.

She'd learned Daniel helped out while they were missing. He found then a place with the best security and moved a good chunk of furniture with Pierre and Sergio. The other three boys getting any personal belongings out of the wrecked apartment.

Oscar hadn't let go of her hand. He's been glued to her side and paranoid about every stranger they come across.

Recovery for him was going to be long and difficult, but they would be there every step of the way.

The return to racing had been amazing. The McLaren fans were so supportive and excited to see Oscar back. His family didn't know everything that happened, and that was for the best.

They just got unlucky is all.

He managed a P4 with the new car upgrades. He felt his brain finally to think about something else as soon as he got into the car.

Lando also got second. Another thing to celebrate. The after race hugs were something special.

She realized that day that her life had been far from easy, and it's not going to get easier, but it didn't matter. At the end of the day, she gets to come back to the people she loves and love her back.

No matter how far away she gets from them, they will always find her.

Next ->

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just-a-sewer-goblin · 2 months

Text

Bully

Bully!Soap x gn!reader (college/highsool whatever au)

It's the last evening you're all together and you can't wait to leave it all behind. Your bully finds you one last time and his intentions are not what you expected

Hurt no comfort, reader getting closure (kinda?)

Warning: Soap is an asshole in this,I'm sorry y'all

Finally it’s over. You’ll be free come morning. Free of classes and professors and classmates and most of all free of bullies. You can do what you want and wherever you’ll end up, it will be a completely new chapter in your life.

You just have to get through this one evening. Honestly you considered not coming to the graduation party, you didn’t really have a connection to anyone anyway. But you came to the conclusion that it would be a nice way to say goodbye to these four years of hell.

You pushed through, you did it and after this evening you won’t have to see any of these spawns of hell ever again. You haven’t had this much peace of mind in a long time. The certainty of things finally being done makes you feel more confident so you don’t really glance up when John fucking MacTavish decides to join you.

What he could want now, on the last evening of all of you seeing each other, eludes you. Maybe he wants to get on your nerves one last time. Bully you one last time but suddenly you don’t even care. Let him be an ass, you won’t have to see his irritating face ever again come morning.

“Hey, ugly. Surprised you decided to show your face here. Can’t be that anyone invited you.”

He’s smirking down at you with that annoying, cocky smirk that makes so many girls swoon. You don’t even look up at him, leaning back on the steps leading down to the backyard of whoever’s house this is. You take another sip of your drink.

“Still haven’t found your voice after all these years, huh, mutt.”, he continues to goad you and finally you look up at him, meeting his eyes.

It’s really sad, that he’s so pretty, such a pretty shell for so much ugly personality. “What do you want MacTavish.”, you ask, almost bored.

He seems taken aback by your lack of reaction to him. But he finds his grin immediately again. “Ohhh look at the little mutt being all grown up and not being scared of me, anymore.”

He sits down next to you, leaning into your space and you lean away from him, the railing behind you keeping you from falling back. “Don’t forget what I can do to you.”, he whispers almost threateningly and suddenly you laugh. He flinches back from the unexpected sound.

Your laugh is easy and carefree, your eyes sparkling with honest mirth as you look into his eyes. Your laugh steals his breath. He’s never seen you laugh like this and it throws him off. God he didn’t know you’d sound so pretty, even though he imagined making you laugh like this more times than he can count.

“Yeah?”, you ask still giggling. “What are you gonna do? There’s no lockers here for you to lock me into. What are you gonna do? Trip me? Pull my hair? Rip my clothes? Drag me to the bathroom and lock me in there? Tell everyone here that “little ugly” came to the party to ruin everyone’s view?”

You relax against the banister behind you gaze still locked on him and he opens and closes his mouth once before leaning in again: “No, I’ll give you what you’ve wanted from me all these years.”

Suddenly your mouth is dry as he puts his broad warm hand on your thigh. Your eyes meet his, big, like a deer caught in the headlight and suddenly everything makes sense. The way he’d pick on you, his flushed face when he spilled water over you and your shirt got see-through. The way he’d call you ugly because you can see it in his eyes, he thinks you’re anything but ugly.

He gently starts letting his hand wander to your inner thigh where it begins to drag upwards and you reflexively close your thighs, trapping his hand, preventing him from travelling higher. You leave his hand there and lean in too so your lips are next to his ear.

“And what do I want from you, MacTavish?”, you don’t miss the way he shudders when he feels your breath on his skin. His hand grips your thigh tighter.

“You want me to touch you, have since the first day, where I bumped into you on accident and made you drop your books. Ever since then I couldn’t get you out of my head, the way you’d looked up at me from where you gathered your stuff. Wanted to see that face over and over again. That’s why you never rand from me, mutt, you wanted me to bully you, to make you feel all helpless and small. And now I’ll finally give you the bullying you wanted from me.”, he murmurs to you and maybe if it were still that first interaction he just recounted you’d react with goosebumps.

Instead you grab his wrist when he tries to move his hand again and rip it off of you. You laugh again and he leans back looking at you, shocked at the surprisingly cold sound.

You shove his hand against his chest and pat his cheek condescendingly and harder than he should allow. “No, Johnny. I didn’t run because there was no where you didn’t find me. You’re an asshole to think I’d want you after everything.”

His eyes are wide and you see cracks in his façade for the first time. “But you’re obviously attracted to me.”, he almost splutters and you grin and stand up.

“Sorry MacTavish, no body and face could ever be attractive enough to cover the stench of your rotten personality.”, you say pleasantly, brushing off invisible dust from your thighs. Or maybe you’re brushing away the reminder of his touch.

Johnny can’t believe what’s happening. He was so sure of it. He’d get to have you today, after three years of making you look at him with those adorable tearful eyes, you’d allow him to make you all glassy eyed for a different reason. And he’d be so good, so much better than you’d expect, that you’d ask for his number and he’d get to keep you as his nice little pet dog. He’d get to bully you like he’s always done just with an added layer of pleasure.

“Darling, please. Let me explain.” He hates how whiny his voice suddenly sounds, the petname slipping out subconsciously.

“I hope you have a nice rest of your life, MacTavish. I’m outta here. Nothing here for me to miss. I hope I never see you again.”, you say, then turn and wave over your shoulder.

“Please. Stay.”, his voice is thin and why the hell is he the one that sounds like a pathetic dog now?

You don’t spare him another glance as you leave, missing the way he’s the one with glossy eyes for once.

#the sewer writes #john soap mactavish x reader #johnny x reader #soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #bully!soap x gn!reader #gn!reader #I did my boy so dirty in this I almost feel bad #this came to me and I had to #tosses this into the void kinda hoping no one will see it #don't be mean please #cod x reader

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pouletaulait · 5 days

Text

"Do you even intend to quit – not really" 🧐

After reading Chapter 58 I thought about this exchange between Yashiro and Kage for a bit:

At first sight this might suggest that Yashiro actually considers staying in the Yakuza. I think based on what we know and how this statement is framed though, I come to the conclusion that this suggests the exact opposite in fact; Yashiro’s reluctance to stay in the Yakuza shines through yet again.

Granted, in the above scene Yashiro does in fact say that he doesn’t really want to quit BUT what he said before that stood out to me. Confronted by Kage about how he’s still affiliated with the Yakuza he first diverts his question by saying „don’t say things as if you’re an ordinary person“; I think this points out that Yashiro doesn’t like to think of himself as that different from Kage (or „civilian“ people in general, probably), he’s sorta putting the two of them onto the same level… outwardly he appears to lower Kage’s „status“ as a law-abiding citizen to his own, but, objectively speaking they both know that Kage is not in fact a shady person (at least from what I can tell, after all, he doesn’t appear to be affiliated with any „shady“ people apart from Yashiro and Kage always complains about Yashiro dragging him into these affairs). So, what this ends up doing is lifting Yashiro’s status up (I hope I’m phrasing this in a way that makes sense). Anyway, I think what this conveys is that Yashiro still looks down on Yakuza members (he’s definitely not proud of being one) and that he’s still not fully comfortable with people viewing him as a member or even acknowledging his Yakuza-status himself. He then goes on to say that it’s not easy to leave. Now, this could suggest a) that it has been on his mind (which we already know to be true) and b) that he feels the need to justify the fact that he’s still affiliated with them. Only when Kage questions him again Yashiro finally says that he doesn’t REALLY want to leave. His way of phrasing it doesn’t sound super convincing and he probably says that to get Kageyama off his case and also because, if he is honest with himself, he still can’t see himself actually taking that step after all. I know I might be reading too much into this but it stood out to me that Yashiro didn’t just throw Kage a snarky comment like „why the hell wouldn’t I still be a member?“, in the same vein as his first comment „what kind of upstanding guy runs a shady illegal casino?“ Instead he is somewhat opening up to Kage in his own way.

Anyway, this conversation is yet another puzzle piece that plays into the theory I’ve had from the beginning, that Yashiro will leave the Yakuza eventually. From all we know so far, Yashiro has never really come to terms with being a Yakuza and has generally a very negative opinion of them. The topic of Yashiro struggling to accept this role and the re-occurring questioning of what makes a Yakuza, who’s a good Yakuza, who’s not fit to be one, etc. strongly suggests to me that this is an integral part of this story as a whole and is most probably gonna be relevant to the conclusion of the story. It’s made clear that Yashiro never wanted to be Yakuza in the first place and he’s still reluctant, like… some 20 long years later 😯. I don't want to include too many quotes here because there are far too many instances that could be mentioned and this post is already getting too loooong, as you'll see 🫣, but there are some I'd like to mention. First I'd like to point to one quote from Yashiro that leads me to believe that to him being a Yakuza is not in fact his real identity but rather a role he is playing. He says to Ryuuzaki in Chapter 5:

He sees himself more as an actor rather than a real Yakuza and interestingly enough, that’s what he had aspired to become as a teenager: (aspire might be too strong of a word here but I think in a way he really did):

Now, I know that I'm arguing that Yashiro is talking about himself here ,even though, he's not just referring to himself in his comment to Ryuuzaki but the fact that he talks about Yakuza being just like actors in general and then further generalizing his statement to „people spend their lives acting“ still plays nicely into Yashiro's perception of his own life which will become relevant in a bit *bear with me*; it suggests that he thinks that people are not really free to be themselves because they have to play their role which emphasizes his passive approach to life in general „I have lived my life accepting it all“ (I reference this quote further down).

Every time Misumi tries to drag him in deeper, Yashiro is acting completely reluctant. We first saw this in the very beginning of the story when Misumi and Yashiro talk about the succession and Misumi says to Yashiro „be mine once more“ (Yashiro doesn’t want to give him an answer), when we learn through Hirata’s secret recordings about the details of another conversation between Misumi and Yashiro in Chapter 14 (Yashiro still doesn’t give a straight answer) and we see it again in Chapter 36 when Misumi basically says to Yashiro „don’t forget what you are“ after the time-skip (Yashiro distracts Misumi from the conversation by provoking him). He doesn't agree to anything but he never outright refuses either (he's completely passive).

His reluctance is further demonstrated by the fact that after the time-skip Yashiro’s not really a full member anymore. He used what happened after Hirata’s attack on him to the best of his abilities in a way to distance himself from the group but he couldn’t take the last step. But this clearly points to Yashiro wanting to get out for good.

I think it’s noteworthy that the only time he completely rejects the idea of quitting (as far as I remember), is in Chapter 27 when he speaks to Ryuuzaki in the back of the police car:

This stands out to me because he says this after he’d made up his mind that he was gonna die. So why keep fighting it at this point? (I’m so glad our cute boy is not in such a dark place anymore 😭)

Yashiro has also tried to keep Doumeki out of this world because he cares so much about him. Unfortunately, he wasn’t successful but the statement Yashiro made about the Yakuza in Chapter 22 becomes relevant again, now that Doumeki got a back tattoo (which as we all know made Yashiro furious beyond belief). Yashiro said something along the lines of „do you have any idea how many upright citizens walk around out there with full body tattoos? And how many Yakuza wear normal business suits?“( I hope this translation is somewhat accurate . I had to take it from the official German translation which is not the most exact at times but the only English translation I could find, didn’t seem to be correct 😅) Basically he’s saying, it’s never too late to quit. This was some unfortunate foreshadowing if you ask me but it gives me hope that Doumeki’s status as a full-fledged member and him getting a tattoo won’t prevent them from leaving the Yakuza world behind.

I just cannot imagine Yoneda-sensei making this aspect such an integral part of Yashiro’s character and bringing this topic up again and again if it isn’t gonna be relevant in the end… I know it might be a red herring but I really doubt it at this point. I read the manga as a story of a traumatized survivor of SA finding happiness in life (yes, I’m very hopeful that both Doumeki and Yashiro are gonna make it out alive because anything else would be too cruel🫣). For Yashiro the Yakuza is a hindrance to his freedom and happiness because it’s not who he truly is as a person and as long as he stays he’s going to be under Misumi’s control and Misumi is gonna try to use him, just like his stepfather and all the other men who SAed him when he was a teenager used him. In a way he’s still this powerless child getting used by others. He was an easy target for Misumi because Yashiro was „completely indifferent about himself“ as Misumi put it. This indifference stems from the abuse he suffered. When Yashiro got shot he remembered the SA and he says: „I have lived my life accepting it all. I’ve felt no sorrow. I’ve blamed no one. My life can’t be said to be anyone else’s fault.“ This expresses exactly what Misumi saw in Yashiro: He’s so broken that he doesn't even feel anger, he is beyond caring about himself, his well-being, his future. Putting it differently; he doesn’t love himself and he doesn’t think that he deserves love or a different, better life. This is why he doesn’t really put up a fight against this fate. He’s still passively accepting everything.

To sum this up, it’s mainly his trauma that prevents him from quitting, just like it keeps him from being able to accept Doumeki’s love. Since I believe this story is about Yashiro overcoming his trauma and finding happiness, I think it would only be fitting that once he’ll be able to accept that he is deserving of love, hope and happiness, he’d finally find the courage to take control of his own fate and break away from the path that he felt forced to follow.

And yes, I'm aware that quitting won't be that easy because of Misumi's obsession over Yashiro BUT even though I don't like Misumi too much and I think he's a creep, he's in his own way quite lenient when it comes to Yashiro, I have to give him that. So, I have high hopes that he actually meant what he said about "caring about Yashiro as a person" and will let him leave without too much trouble.

Of course we don’t know much about Doumeki’s plans for his future but if Yashiro and him end up together (which is what I’m hoping for) he’ll most likely go along with Yashiro’s wishes, I guess 😉 And I know, sweet Nanahara would be disappointed but I bet Yashiro and Doumeki would still find a way to adopt their big baby boy into their little family 😜

maybe they’re gonna open up a beach bar in Hawai’i and Nanahara would flirt with the guests and give away all the drinks for free 🤣

On a more serious note, I hope I didn’t get any of the quotes completely wrong. Nuances tend to get lost in translation so it’s kinda "risky" to base a theory like this solely on translations but most of it comes down to my personal interpretation of the story anyways. And I’m sorry if most of this seemed too obvious but I got the impression that I seem to feel more strongly about the fact that Yashiro might gonna leave his days as a Yakuza behind than others in the fandom and I felt the need to present my case 😉

If you actually made it through my ramblings to down here, you deserve some 🍪🍪🍪 😘

#saezuru chapter 58 #saezuru #saezuru tori wa habatakanai #twittering birds never fly #saezuru analysis #spread your wings and fly away yashiro #fly away far away #spread your little wings and fly away far away #now I can't get that song out of my head #spare me mr mercury #don't stop me now I'm having such a good time I'm having a ball

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thestruidora · 1 year

Text

Sweetheart

Supernatural Fanfiction

Rating: Explicit

WARNINGS: This story will contain but it’ll not be limited to explicit 18+ content including Yandere, Borderline Personality Disorder, Stalker, Possessive Behavior, Romance, Angst, Fluff and Smut, Rape/Non-con Elements, Hurt/Comfort, Therapy, Miscommunication, Plot With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Obsessive Behavior, Smut, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Oral Sex, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink

Category: F/M

Pairings: Dean Winchester/You, Dean Winchester/Reader

Summary: Dean has borderline personality disorder and the reader is his favorite person.

Chapter Updates: Masterlist

Author's notes: I don't even what to write in here at this point. All I can say is that I really hope you guys enjoy because it took me fucking forever to write.

Chapter Four

The Tower

“The Tower is about sudden, shocking change. Change that can knock you off your feet and alter your future as you thought you knew it.”

“Alright, everyone, good work today. See you ladies tomorrow!” George, the construction site’s foreman, yelled out to the workers the second the clock struck 5 p.m.

“Fucking finally.” Dean murmured to himself, putting down the sledgehammer he was holding and taking off his safety gloves, hands free at last to wipe the sweat off his forehead.

“That eager to come home to the wife, huh?” Sid asked him with a knowing smirk, and Dean smiled in return, amused at just how far off his colleague was.

“Oh, you don’t know how much.” He said it with ease, taking off his goggles and patting away the fine dust from his hair.

“I would be too if I had a great gal like Lisa to come home to.” Sid winked at Dean, hands busy with removing his own safety gear.

“Yeah, she’s… She’s great.” The Winchester nodded and looked to the side, the fake smile dying on his lips. “Anyways, I’mma head out. Talk to you tomorrow, Sid.” He bids his farewell, feet moving towards the parking lot, not wanting to prolong the conversation.

“See ya.” Sid waves him off, even though Dean's back was already to him.

Once he's inside his monstrosity of a car — the respectful family minivan —, he lets out a long, deep-rooted sigh.

Out of the windshield, he can see the beginning of sunset, the light blue sky seamlessly turning to a burning orange. If you ask him, the end of his shift couldn't have come fast enough. The days have been longer than usual, each one stretching itself out more than the one before. The hours drag by, and it sure doesn't help that he's been counting them.

But he can't help it, he hasn't seen you in a long time. Too long. Almost two weeks. Twelve excruciating days.

He'll have his session with you in a couple of days, and you'll finally be face-to-face with him again. ‘Cause it's not like he hasn't seen you from afar this whole time, that'd be crazy. He has to keep an eye on you, right? To protect you.

That's what he's been doing. Protecting you. Ever since the very first time he set foot in your office and you told him that the two of you could no longer be friends, he dedicated himself to reverting the situation, but to no avail since you could be so stubborn.

His line of communication with you became thinner and thinner and it felt like the more he tried to reach for you, the more he risked breaking it altogether.

He no longer saw you at the dog park, since your friend with terrible timing had decided to come back from her vacation and get Loki back from you.

You had never officially given your personal phone number to him, even though he has had it for a while now. It couldn't have been easier to obtain, he just saved the contact after seeing your open phone bill atop the table in your living room on one of the many occasions in which he had let himself into your apartment.

So he couldn't just call you out of nowhere, it would be weird and it would raise questions.

He couldn't do it.

It didn't matter that you had canceled his last appointment and that had set him off into a panic attack, which he had never had before.

It didn't matter that he couldn't stop thinking that you had grown tired of him and his stupid problems and his endless daddy issues.

That he literally could not breathe at the thought of how worthless and pathetic you must think he is.

Even though your receptionist had assured him that she made a mistake and overbooked you that week, he couldn't believe that.

You were sick of him, that's what it was.

It had to be.

And even as he sits in the driver's seat of his revolting minivan, knowing full well that he's only a couple of days away from being with you in person, he can't help but want to be near you right now. Just so he can fix it. Whatever it was about him that made you loathe him and despise him, he can change.

He has to see you at that very instant.

It's all he can think about as he turns on the vehicle's engine and drives exactly at the speed limit from the construction site all the way to your house, parking on the other side of the street as he always does.

The big glass windows of your apartment allow for ample observation of whatever occurs inside, giving Dean a privileged view of your form as you turn on the lights on your way from your living room to the kitchen. Your silhouette is bathed in the warm glow of the lamps that shine through its surroundings and light up the space now that the sun has set and night has fallen.

He can see your fingers moving nimbly as you wash whatever dishes you find in the sink, bringing your damp hand to your forehead and then moving to rub at your nape with a sigh when you’re finished.

He can tell you still have your work clothes on as you must have just come home. And it’s not difficult to imagine how tired you are from the frown creasing in the middle of your eyebrows. He can visualize it so clearly now, his own fingers moving delicately across your skin to smooth that frown away.

He has watched you from this exact vantage point for months and it still feels like the first time with the way his heart aches with the need to be closer. The way his hand closes in a fist as though to contain the desire to reach out and touch you in some way.

But alas, he can’t. Because you would turn him away. You would be scared of him. He knows you would, so he just leans back in the car seat, attempting to control the flurrying in his chest, and watches.

You untie your hair from the ponytail you had it in as you move back to the living room and it falls around your face, caressing your neck. Something catches your attention and you walk to your discarded purse on top of the coffee table, retrieving your phone from it. Whatever it is that flashes through the screen causes a smile to appear on your lips before you raise the device to your ear and start to talk.

Dean fidgets in his seat with the uncomfortable feeling of not knowing who is on the other end of the line, but he tries not to let his mind wander to dangerous places. Your sister, perhaps?

You use your shoulder to secure your phone to your ear as you bring your hands down to your shirt and begin to unbutton it. He sucks in a breath at the sight, unsure of what to do with himself as your fingers work their way down till the top is completely unbuttoned, your bare skin peeking through as well as the fabric of your bra.

He notices your mouth moving to form words he can't decipher while you pull your shirt completely off, throwing it on the spacious couch in the middle of your living room before your legs take you back to the kitchen, where you open the fridge to get a glass of water for yourself.

The refrigerator light illuminates the contours of your exposed stomach and collarbone, the supple flesh of your cleavage lightly bouncing up and down with the way your bust is confined tightly by your bra cups.

Dean thinks he might be on the verge of an aneurysm as he witnesses you drink from the once full glass till the water is entirely gone, a couple of drops escaping from your lips in your haste to quench your thirst, running down your jaw to your neck and disappearing in the space between your breasts.

Suddenly his own mouth is dry and he feels as if he's been lost in a desert for ages, those sinful droplets of water that are lucky enough to travel through the valleys of your body being the only source of hydration that can placate his craving.

Once you're satisfied, you leave the empty glass on the sink and go to the living room yet again, this time stopping by the wall adjacent to your flat-screen TV and bending down to freshen up the bowl of kibble for your cat, taking your time to shake the dish side to side till the shorthaired black Bombay saunters into the common area with a regal air about itself, tail swinging lazily and big golden eyes staring affectionately at you as it meows over and over.

You put down the food bowl on its original place on the floor and stretch your arms out to pet the head of the animal, a loving expression taking over your face, more words pouring out from you to meet the phone's receiver, whatever is being said by the other person causing you to laugh unreservedly, the content of the exchange still an unfortunate mystery to Dean.

The cat advances on its dinner and you observe it for a second, before getting up from your crouched down position and moving to stand directly in front of the perfectly transparent glass window from where he can see you.

Instead of making an attempt to hide, Dean props himself forward in your direction, the darkness of nightfall in your poorly lit neighborhood keeping him undetected by your eyes that scan the landscape through the window, seemingly not finding interest in anything in particular.

He gulps incredulously at what follows; you, phone once again glued to your ear with the help of your shoulder, taking your hands south to your pants, unzipping and unbuttoning it, tugging down the waist of the garment until the top of your panties is showing.

He's now a thousand percent sure that he's in absolute perfect health, because if that weren't the case, his heart would've given out by now. He can hear the organ rapidly beating in his ears, blood pumping fiercely, bringing heat to his face as a mixture of shame and excitement overtakes his mind.

He shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't be there. A better man would've turned on his car and driven away, and an even greater man wouldn't have come here at all. But Dean proves to be neither of those while he sits there and observes you languidly remove your pants and sigh contently once you've stripped yourself down to your underwear.

You stretch your neck to the left and then to the right, your torso accompanying the movement. Whoever is on the other line appears to say something that you appreciate thoroughly, with the way a wishful smile dances in the corners of your lips, and uneasiness builds inside of Dean at the sight.

He has never been a particularly jealous guy, not with his material possessions — except for Baby —, nor with his romantic partners which, to be fair, had been few in between. Countless one-night stands, sure. But only one or two real ‘girlfriends’ were all the relationships he had to draw reference from. Very short-lived relationships, not to mention.

Of course, there was Lisa, but he never really dated Lisa. They skipped that part and went straight into living together and a marriage proposal, with a kid and a dog in tow. And through it all, he had never experienced the burning feeling of insecurity that he’s feeling right about now.

Who are you talking to at the end of your day? Are these regular calls or just a singular, uncustomary thing? Is the caller an important person to you? Do they play a crucial role in your life? Do they fill a space that Dean could not?

That’s an ominous notion that he’s not sure he can bear. An ugly and twisted, unexpected emotion that Dean hadn’t been previously introduced to takes hold of him as those thoughts ruminate in his mind.

You walk away from the window and make your way towards the couch. A deep exhale leaving you as you sink down onto the soft cushions, a sense of comfort and relaxation appearing to wash over you.

While engrossed in your conversation, the pads of your fingers patter down the expanse of your neck, where they land just below your collar, ending up playing with the strap of your bra.

You tug and readjust the thin piece of material, your eyes unfocused as they stare at the far wall in front of you, blinking slowly while your mouth takes its sweet time to form the words as they come out, the way your lips shape around the unintelligible sounds rendering Dean utterly hypnotized.

There’s something wicked about this.

The fact that he can see you so clearly from the outside of your home, the place where you feel safe, the space where you can allow yourself to be your utmost true, surrounded only by the privacy of your walls.

The reality that he has pierced that barrier and infiltrated a moment that would otherwise be shared with nobody but you.

The position that you are in, so exposed without even knowing, so much of your smooth skin, bare only for his eyes in the quiet of the night.

The way a pleasant tingle spreads between his legs, blood rushing south, filling his cock inside his pants.

There’s something sinister about it, but Dean can’t will himself to care. Quite the opposite, he almost likes it.

His pupils dilate when you switch the phone to your other ear so that your right hand is free and you stretch it behind your back, your arm contorted in a tugging and twisting gesture till finally something snaps open, literally.

The hook of your bra comes undone and you pull the right strap, the same one you were playing with only mere moments ago, off your shoulder and then repeat the process on the other side.

There’s a second of anticipation, a breath that Dean holds in while he leans forward in the car seat as much as humanly possible so that he won’t miss what’s unfolding before him, and then you remove the cups that laid atop your breasts, uncovering the pert nipples that grow into peaks when subjected to the chill air of the evening.

“Holy shit.” His tongue instinctively pokes out to wet his parched lips, since he seems to have forgotten how to breathe through his nose, taking big gulps of air, mouth agape.

You throw the item of clothing aside unceremoniously, not caring where it lands, a noise so full of content escaping you that it reaches him all the way across the street. You rub at the indents the underwire left where it had been held tightly, your hand massaging the skin around your tits, cupping them from the side, and then letting go, the mounds jiggling freely in the most enticing of motions.

He didn’t think he would get to see you like this one day. Maybe never. He wished for it, longed for it, but he couldn't honestlyenvision it happening. He didn’t think he deserved it. He has daydreamed about it, sure, but not once in this scenario, not with him so far away where he can’t touch you, where he can only look.

The light coming from the lamp in the ceiling shone down on you, highlighting the dips and curves of your physique as you sat on your sofa. Like something out of a fantasy book, you cross and uncross your legs, perched on the pliant pad like a mythical creature, dressed only in your underpants. Like a dream.

The person you were talking to must make some sort of funny remark then, due to the way you proceed to throw your head back in laughter and twirl a finger in your hair, Dean’s eyes following the action frame by frame, entranced in the show. To gaze upon you naked like this is arousing in a whole new way.

It’s uncharted territory.

It’s different from porn.

It’s intimate and real.

Because he knows you. He’s seen you in your casual, everyday clothes, and in your stuffy work attire as well. But to be able to spy on what’s underneath.

To get a glimpse of the lovely, overly polite girl from the dog park; the shrewd, excessively serious therapist that leans back in her armchair and analyzes his every move, his every word.

To see you stripped down to your plain cotton panties and nothing more. There’s a vulnerability to it.

He’s forced to palm his dick through the tough material of his jeans when it stiffens and twitches inside his boxers.

Your hand leaves your hair and falls to your mouth, both index and middle fingers kneading the plump flesh of your lips, countenance lost in thought even as you nod and hum to the individual who called you. The same hand travels to your chest, just above the mass of your breasts, where you draw featherlight circles with the tips of your nails.

You seem to really enjoy the sensation, eyelids dropping till they’re closed, slumping down on the furniture that supports you.

Even as you relax in your seat, your fingers don’t quit their journey downwards, anchoring themselves on a particular patch of skin on the side of your boob. A saucy smile breaks from you, teeth showing while your eyes remain shut and you say something Dean can’t make out.

He has never once seen that look on your face, an impish, mischievous air that he wouldn't have expected from you.

Your arm moves just slightly and you grab your nipple, caressing the tumid, puffy bud with gentle, barely-there touches that become bold and confident once you hear something from the other end that encourages you, that shameless smirk widening on your lips.

Dean feels his entire body tense up, from the ends of his hair to the toes of his feet. A sudden jolt of adrenaline causes his heart to race as he watches in disbelief and confusion. And it takes a while, a little too long, for him to begin processing what is happening.

You are fondling your breast, teasing the tip, letting out a small gasp when a wave of ecstasy clearly hits you and your eyes snap open. You can hardly contain your enthusiastic laugh at whatever your mystery caller tells you and then you move to pinch and tug at your neglected nipple, wiggling on the couch, biting on your bottom lip.

You’re… Giddy. Acting naughty and unabashed, toying with yourself while on the phone with someone.

‘Cause you’re definitely not talking to your sister.

But then who? Who’s the motherfucker you give your time to? Your attention? Your carefree attitude? Your sexed-up, wild side?

Because you’d barely even muster a fucking genuine smile to Dean the last few times you saw him, and for a while, he tried to convince himself that you were not disinterested in him, you simply weren’t interested in anybody.

Well, that’s obviously not the case.

You don’t want him, specifically.

But you do want some other guy. Some other idiot who could never understand you the way Dean does. Never comprehend what it feels like to lose your family, to lose a brother. They could never share that bond with you.

Whoever that asshole is to you, Dean can be more. He’s sure of it.

But they’re the one you’re sighing wantonly for. Breathing accelerating as you let go of your left tit and run your hand down your stomach, inching closer to the waistband of your underwear. Your legs part to give way to your obscene exploration and you rub at your center, fingers carefully contouring the outline of your pussy over the cloth of your panties.

A head-spinning mixture of anger and excitement hits Dean so strongly it gives him whiplash. He has to blink a couple of times to try and wear off his shock, vision shifting from blurry and then to clear again as he fights off this dazed feeling that attempts to consume him.

He just couldn't believe it.

You are pawing at your clit, patting the sensitive button, drawing tight circles through the material of your underwear till a wet spot darkened the shade of the fabric. A puff of hot air leaves your parted lips at the sensations you’re bringing out of yourself.The corners of your mouth rise as you whisper some dirty secret into the receiver.

You are so lewd and indecent, without any inhibitions. All for someone else.

And for how long? Did you know them for a considerable amount of time or were they a random hookup, the type you can flirt and have phone sex with but no emotional connection to?

Either way, you must like them. You must find them alluring and attractive. Probably way more than you found Dean to be since you never so much as gave him a once-over.

Were they good-looking?

Were they interesting or charming?

Were they worthy of you?

No. Of course not.

How could they possibly be worthy of you? How could they possibly deserve your impatient, feverish expression or the broken sob that erupts from your throat as you continue to stroke your pleasure point side to side?

How could they have earned the bucking of your hips when you can’t take the feeling of your damp panties clinging to your throbbing core any longer and your hand makes a move to the hem of your underwear, with the intention of touching under the fabric?

He can’t conceive of it. He can’t wrap his head around this being fair. You can’t choose them over him. You just can’t.

Dean reaches for the cell phone in his pocket with trembling fingers, mind fuzzy with too many emotions that he isn’t able to put in order. Jealousy and envy swirling into an interchangeable spiral. Lust and frustration biting each other’s tails. Disappointment and hope swaying to an eerie ballad as his thumb shakes while it presses your name and then the call button.

He takes note of the moment your device starts ringing, the way you react by pulling your arm away from between your legs, frowning at the unknown number flashing across your screen, and interrupting your ongoing connection.

You exhale deeply only to take a calming breath in, looking irritated, saying something of little importance to the bastard you were conversing with, and then suddenly the tone by Dean’s ear stops, there’s a soft click when you pick up, and the Winchester is overwhelmed by the sound of your voice as it envelops him after what felt like forever.

“Hello?” You greet, putting a hair strand behind your ear.

There’s a pause when all of Dean’s blood rushes to his brain, causing an intense dizziness, and he has to contain the need to gasp audibly for air.

He didn’t think this through.

He didn’t think at all.

He just acted.

The idea of losing you bringing a suffocating pang of despair, a feeling that proved itself to be entirely too great to withstand, and Dean just… Moved, without taking the time to consider the consequences of his actions.

But he had to do something. He couldn't just stand idly by while you were being taken from him. Not that you were ever his, to begin with, but he can still change that. You just need to give him a chance. Which seems unlikely to happen now that he has called your number, the one he isn’t supposed to have.

“Eh…” He doesn’t know what to say.

He wasn’t prepared for this. He didn’t have a game plan or a strategy on how to conduct himself. He hadn’t mapped out how this exchange would go in his head, as he typically does. He hadn’t devised a way to take control of the situation.

“Hey, Y/N.” Was all he could come up with.

You appear to be unsettled for a moment, blinking a few times while you search for a name amongst your friends and family that would match the deep, gruff timbre that addressed you and then you ask.

“Who’s this?” You don’t recognize his voice, and it stings to know that you think of him so little, when he thinks of you sooften.

“It’s, uh- Dean.” Should he disclose his last name, as well?

You knit your brows, and he has to convince himself that is not disapproval nor displeasure that he sees flickering across your face.

“Oh, hi, Dean. How are you?” You fix yourself in your seat, choosing to recline your head on the back of the sofa, elongating your neck, and bending your spine. Your chest sticks out as a result, the artificial light coming from above reflecting on the dewy skin of your exposed breasts, and Dean is rendered speechless for a split second.

“I’m alright. How are you?” He manages to respond.

“Fine.” Your eyes roam the space of your living room in confusion, as if him calling you was the strangest of developments. “Hmm, how can I help you?” That’s a great question. You can stop having phone sex with other people, for starters.

“Y-you know, it’s been a while since we had our last session and I just thought that it might be good to have a chat like, before, just to catch up on everything.” It’s his reply.

He can hear the way he sounds, voice faltering, words coming out rushed. It fills the inside of the car and bounces against the walls before entering his ears, the uncertainty so raw that he cringes at what you, a psychologist, might be able to read between the lines.

“Okay…” You stretch out the last syllable, absolutely not buying what he was selling. “But we only had to reschedule one of your appointments, right?” It sure felt like longer than that.

“Yeah, just the one.” He runs a rough hand down his cheek, rubbing at his mouth in a soothing gesture, his palm meeting the prickly stubble lining his jaw in the process. “I think it’s because it’s been a while since we talked without it being in that setting, and I thought we could have a more relaxed conversation, like the ones we had before.”

“I see.” Your features wilt, expression taking on an exasperated look and you turn your head towards the opposite side of the window, hindering Dean’s view of you, but he could swear he caught a slight row of your eyes. “Dean, I was under the impression that we had already discussed this, and why it’s simply not… Viable.”

“I know.” He said it way too loud, having to make an effort to bring the volume of his next sentences down. “And I get it, I’m a patient and that’s all that I can be, but I just wish that we-” You raise your fingers to eye level, checking your nails for imperfections, not particularly displaying much enthusiasm in your demeanor. He puffs out a breath through his nose, completely out of his element. “That we could go back to being friends.”

“I understand.” You let out an annoyed sigh. “But I need to be perfectly clear with you. Once I became your therapist, there was no ‘going back’. Even if we stopped having our sessions, we still couldn't regain the relationship we had before. You’ve shared deep, extremely personal information about yourself with me, and I have analyzed you as a psychologist. There’s no possibility of me ever not seeing you as a patient.”

Dean takes in everything you say, each statement feeling like a stab in the chest. The little world he had built inside his head, for you and him only, crumbles to the ground as if it was made of sand. Disillusion wraps around his throat and he grips the steering wheel till his knuckles turn white.

“Well, fuck.” You make a displeased sound at the curse word he blurts out, almost making it seem like you weren’t sitting on your couch only in your underpants, but he’s quick to rectify anyway. “I’m sorry. There’s probably no good reason for me to ask what you’re doing Saturday night, then?” He chuckles, making a poor attempt at a joke.

Why did he say that? He knew what your response would be. He isn’t some utterly delusional, socially oblivious, lovesick teenager. At least, he never was before. He used to be the complete opposite. A confident, self-assured lady-killer that wouldn’t be caught dead pining over a clearly uninterested woman.

And now look at him.

Why must he humiliate himself like this? When did he turn into that kind of guy? No wonder you find him pathetic.

“No.” You answered, curtly, and even though you’re unaware that he can see you, you shake your head side to side, only to reinforce the refusal. “I mean, you can ask, but I’m just going to give you a deflective answer.”

A toe-curling embarrassment hangs in the air around the two of you, resembling a strong, overly sweet perfume that refuses to dissipate, and all Dean can think to do is retreat, go home to lick his wounds from this lost battle.

Why did you need to be so difficult?

“Whelp, guess I finally got the message. Loud and clear.” A deafening silence extends itself and he clears his throat, the awkwardness building with it. “See you in a couple days in your office, Y/N.”

“Sure.” You agree, and he’s about to hang up before you stop him. “Wait, Dean-”

“Yes?” There’s so much in that one question. It’s just three small letters, but they mean a lot more.

‘Is something wrong?’

‘Did you change your mind?’

‘One word from you, and I’m yours.’

“How did you get this number?” Is what actually comes out of your mouth and Dean deflates, face scrunching up as he murmurs a quiet ‘shit’. Of fucking course that’s what you would say.

“You gave it to me.” He offers, clean and simple. In his opinion, it’s always best to deliver a short, detail-free lie that can be molded and shaped into whatever fits his narrative.

“I…” You think long and hard for a bit, bringing your right knee up, resting your arm on it. “I don’t remember doing that. Are you sure?”

“I’m pretty sure. How else would I have it?” He tightens his lips, praying to God that you’ll fall for that.

“Um…” You pause, considering what would be the alternative. If he managed to get a hold of your contact without it coming from you, that would mean that he’s some sort of creep, psycho stalker, and surely, you wouldn't make that low of a judgment about him. “Yeah, you’re right. I guess I did, then. It’s just that this is my personal number, so if you ever feel the need to reach me again, I would appreciate it if you did it through the business one.”

Ouch. You weren’t pulling any punches today, were you?

“Of course.” Dean agrees through gritted teeth, his ego more bruised than his face after a whole round with the Devil. “My mistake.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You crack your knuckles in the same way he often does and the corners of his mouth lift involuntarily. You were made for him. You just don’t know it yet, and he can’t be mad at you for that. “Have a good night, Dean.” You wish, at last.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” It’s the last thing he says before you hang up and the line disconnects.

He stays for a while longer, resting the back of his head in the driver’s seat, fingers anxiously tapping on the dashboard while he waits to see if you’ll call that son of a bitch again. But you only fidget with your phone for a minute or two before you put it down, coaxing a sigh of relief out of Dean’s lungs.

You get up from the couch and make a beeline for your bedroom then, taking time to lightly scratch at your scalp with the ends of your nails in circular motions, finding the sensation relaxing if your hum of delight was anything to go by.

You stop in front of your closet, opening it to fetch a towel from inside. Once you have it in your grasp, you leave your bedroom and walk the short path to your bathroom, closing the door behind you, the wooden barrier blocking Dean’s field of vision.

Dean can’t hear the shower running, but he can see the vapor escaping from under the entrance and decides it’s time to go. He turns the key and the engine sparks to life, the drive to his house in the picture-perfect suburbs filled solely with thoughts of you. He fixates on whether or not you’re accepting of hot showers only, since he can’t stand them. Maybe the two of you could find a happy medium whenever you choose to shower together.

With that image in mind, he can’t fight the smile that creeps on his lips as he parks and exits the minivan after reaching his destination, the first thing he hears upon crossing the entryway being Thor’s excited barks and the familiar sound of his paws on the foyer’s floor when he runs to welcome Dean back home.

“Hey, buddy.” The Winchester kneels down to pat the German Sheppard’s soft coat, allowing a few affectionate licks from the dog to land on the side of his face before getting up again.

“You’re here.” Lisa’s voice announces as she enters the space, eyeing Dean up and down, inspecting him for something that she doesn’t seem to find. “I didn’t know if you were coming home.” He scoffs at her choice of words.

“What is that supposed to mean?” It’s a challenge. He wants her to say what she’s really thinking. He wants her to yell at him, hit him if that’s what she wants to do.

“Ben was asking for you at dinner.” She averts her gaze, a looming melancholy painted on her pretty brown eyes and Dean’s vexation dwindles.

“Where is he?” He asks.

“Playing video games in his room.” She still doesn’t look at him, preferring to find a nondescript spot on the wall to the right of them to focus on.

“I’ll talk to him before it’s time to go to bed.” He tells her, earning a soft ‘hmm’ in response. He waits to make sure the conversation has come to an end, and she folds her arms, hugging her own waist and remaining quiet.

With nothing left to say, he leaves her where she stands, slow-moving feet taking him to the garage. He closes and locks the door behind him, staring for too long at the outline of the Impala that rests in the room, cloaked by a large tarp.

There are wall-mounted shelves littered with all types of tools and forgotten items, and hidden behind all the paraphernalia, he uncovers the box he came looking for.

He plucks it from its secret place and cradles it in his hands, as if it contained a precious treasure. He then sits in the old recliner they put out of service and moved into the garage a few months back, laying the box on his lap and getting comfortable against the upholstered leather.

He lifts the lid of the box, finding his prized collection in the same way he left it. The dainty necklace with a shiny pendant hanging from its chain. The body lotion that emanated a refreshing and pure smell. A pair of your panties, the off-white lacy one that made his head spin. Those were the souvenirs he took from your apartment and now keeps with him.

Prior to tonight, he had only stared at them in fear and wonder. He feared his actions, how far he was willing to go just to maintain even some small pieces of you close to him. But at the same time, he couldn't help but admire the objects with an awe-inspired twinkle in his eyes.

His right hand moved towards your underwear, fingers lightly brushing the delicate cloth, learning how it feels to the touch. The tactile sensation of rubbing the pads of his fingers against the crotch panel of the garment caused Dean’s skin to prickle with an unnerving heat.

You had been wearing plain cotton panties that night, and yet they looked so appealing as they clutched you by your hips and hugged your ass. Dean brought the piece of clothing he was holding closer, inspecting it carefully, raking over the tiny intricacies with his fingertips.

He imagined you in front of him, dressed only in this flimsy little thing. Would you wear lace for him the first time you let him fuck you? Would the material cling to your pussy lips when he got you wet like you were tonight?

No, he could get you wetter. He could ruin you.

He found himself taking the bottle of lotion and setting the box to the side of him, ragged breaths echoing in the quiet of the room. There’s a fire spreading through his lower abdomen, a burst of need he hasn’t felt this intensely in a long while.

His penis twitches in his pants, begging for attention and Dean gropes it with the hand that is still holding your underwear, just grazing it instead of giving it the friction it demands.

He shuts his eyes, and behind his closed eyelids, he envisions you so clearly. Knelt down between his legs, your smaller, soft hand being the one to scrape the surface of the bulge inside his jeans, teasing him mercilessly.

“Look at how dirty you are.” You’d say, an amused smile plastered on your lips. “Dick half-hard and growing while you finger my stolen panties.”

Dean wouldn't dare touch you, lest you disappear before him like a mirage, so he’d busy his hand by bringing the fine lacy fabric he had been caressing to his face, putting it against his nose and, inhaling deeply. Nothing other than a faint smell of laundry detergent fills his senses, but in his mind’s eye, it’s the sweet scent of your dripping cunt that permeates the space around him and makes his mouth water.

“Want you so bad.” He’d pant, whiny and desperate.

“I know.” Your tone would be so condescending, grinning a cruel grin whilst you’d line the span of his member with the edge of your nails and blow a puff of hot air on it, letting your pouty lips ghost over the swelling organ. “You’re such a pervert.”

You’d look up at him with a lascivious glint darkening the color of your irises, weightless fingers working to undo the zipper of his pants before your hand would delve inside his boxers and takes hold of his pulsating length.

Dean would bite into the cloth of your underwear in a laughable attempt to hold in the hopeless moan that you’d coax out of him as you’d pull out his manhood, now fully erect and needy.

“Your cock is so pretty.” You’d utter under your breath, more to yourself than to him. A fascinated look on your face as you’d stare at it from base to glans, eyes glazing over. “I love how flushed you’re at the tip.”

You’d use your thumb to press at the opening of the urethra as your other fingers wrapped around the mushroom head, and Dean would buck his hips and whimper when you’d smear the precum that had gathered there.

“Oh, sweetie, you’re weeping.” You’d coo and suckle at your thumb, eagerly lapping at the taste, releasing the digit with a pop once it was stripped clean of his essence.

Dean’s eyes would widen at how depraved you could be, how absolutely filthy and debauched you were just for him, and his heart would swell with pride and his brain would swim in endorphins.

“Do you want me to suck it? Put it in the back of my throat?” You’d ask without any intention of gaining a response from him, half of your words coming out muffled since you’d try to speak with your mouth full, alternating your attention between laving your tongue on the tender intersection where Dean’s foreskin would be if he hadn’t been circumcised, and stubbornly seeking to close your lips around the middle of his shaft, head leaned horizontally as you’d litter him with wet, open-mouthed kisses.

“I- I can’t.” He’d cry out, the sodden material of your lace underpants becoming saturated in his saliva, falling through his teeth, and landing on the floor when he couldn’t keep his shameful sobs in any longer. “I need you to come here.”

“I am here, silly.” You’d giggle with no real humor and, like the vixen you are, you’d place both your hands on each of his knees and prop yourself up just enough that the divine softness of your tits would rub up against his member, taut nipples grazing the sensitive flesh and causing Dean to grunt, on the verge of overstimulation.

You would've barely touched him, and he would have been reduced to a puddle in your grasp, every nerve ending in his body feeling raw and overexposed.

“No, come up here. Sit on my face.” He’d beg and you would laugh at the broken state of his voice, but still oblige him.

You’d stand up slowly, your bare tits shaking tantalizingly with the movement and catching his eyes, the way your cunny would still be hidden by the same pair of tight, plain panties driving Dean mad.

You’d move closer then, placing one of your knees on each of his thighs and climbing over him with the help of his arms as they moved to grab a handful of your ass cheeks, the soft mewl that you’d try to keep in stealing his breath away.

“This is what you wanted?” Your timbre would be pure venom once both your legs straddled his shoulders and you held on to the shelves on the wall for support, you’re clothed pussy hovering mere inches from his mouth. “This is what you dreamed of, you freak?”

“Yes.” He’d confess and try to force you to sit down properly by pulling at your flanks, but you’d swat his hands away with a condemning ‘tsk’ and he’d crane his neck up, tongue sticking out to get a taste of the cloth that concealed your lower lips but only being capable of brushing against it with the tip of the muscle. “Please.”

“Oh, my goodness, you’re such a brat.” You’d mock his restlessness, holding firmly onto the wooden shelves as a way to prevent him from making further contact with your center. “All whiny and needy for me.”

Dean would moan in ecstasy when you’d gradually lower your hips by a tiny fraction, allowing him to moisten the fabric of your underwear with kitten licks, giving out a lament as he failed to fully wrap his lips on the sweet spot between your legs.i

He would pinch at the skin of your inner thighs, using his big hands to knead the flesh around your vulva, wordlessly imploring you to give him what he craved.

“Drop your weight on my face.” His voice would come out all raspy with yearning, and yet he wouldn’t care. “Please, Y/N.”

As if you were a goddess tired of the constant prayers and supplications that he laid at your altar, you’d take pity on his poor soul and finally sink yourself down completely against him.

The heat of his mouth would immediately envelop your middle as a sob escaped from deep in his chest, and he would start to suck on your clit through the cotton of your panties like a man possessed.

“What a crybaby.” You’d snicker and his ears would heat up in embarrassment, but he would ignore it in favor of nipping at the fabric that would stick to your pussy due to the mixture of your wetness and his spit.

Dean would gorge himself on you like a starving animal, feasting on your addicting flavor as your slick juices overflowed from you. The sloppy suction noises would reverberate in the room, a continuous frantic slurping that went over the line of pornographic and bordered on offensive.

Even through your taunting, he would hear the soft sounds of pleasure that you would try to control. Your whimpering when his tongue would hit your bundle of nerves just right, and your wailing when he would rake the blunt ends of his teeth over the swollen bud.

“Always wanted to do this.” He’d mumble in between the persistent licks of his tongue on you and his dick would throb as a result of its neglect.

With one hand planted securely on the fat of your right thigh, Dean would let the other move to his deprived manhood, taking hold of it from the base and working his way to the leaking head.

At first contact, The Winchester would feel a shock pass through him, a literal electric pulse that would overtake him with a sensation so strong that he’d be forced to cease his ministrations, the skin of his shaft too sensitive with how hard he had been for so long.

“Can’t even jerk yourself off right, can you?” You’d jeer at him, pressing your gushing cunt to his face, grinding back and forth against his open mouth, and rubbing your stiff clit on his nose, cutting off his air. “Should I get over there so I can spit on that dick, make it really wet?” You wouldn't allow him to answer, using a hand to tug on the short hairs in the back of his head just to hear him moan, the vibrations landing directly on your soaked underwear. “Do you think that would even help or you’re just being an attention whore?”

Your cutting words would only serve to make his member grow even harder, pointing straight at the ceiling, length heavy with rushing blood and balls full of cum, spasming with pent-up readiness, standing perfectly vertical and sullying the shirt that covered the skin below his belly button.

He didn’t even know he could feel pleasure this deep, this piercing, so overwhelming that it blended into pain. And he certainly didn’t know that he would like it, that he would enjoy the overstimulation as much as he did the humiliation. Your scornful remarks causing a fire to spread under his collar, your insolence riling him up to a point where all he could think about was taking whatever you so generously gave him.

Yes, he was a dirty pervert and a freak for you, now would you please shut up and cream on his tongue so that he could form a single coherent thought?

Furthermore, the idea of losing the feeling of your sitting on his face — with the ripe smell of your arousal filling his nostrils at every labored inhale, and the heady taste of your wetness that runs down his jaw —, is so unappealing to Dean that his nails would clamp down on the flesh of your thigh where he held it, so that you couldn't move away.

“Please, let me-” He’d mutter and bob his head up and down on your pussy, the grip you had on his hair tightening and eliciting a groan from him at the sting.

He’d take the forgotten bottle of body lotion, using his thumbnail to pry the lid open. Without being able to see what he was doing, he’d blindly coat a considerable amount of the balmy substance on the leaking head of his dick, the cream mixing with his pre as he gently massaged it down the shaft.

With the moisturizer lubing him up, the rough friction of his calloused hand on the delicate tissue of his massive hard-on would be pleasantly reduced, and an animalistic whine would get caught in his throat from the relief that came with stroking his needy length properly, the rumble of it reaching your center and making more of your molten honey to ooze out of you.

“You’re fucking delicious.” He’d tell you, delirious from the unmatched satisfaction of savoring you ceaselessly, watching you undulate your hips when he sucked you just right while he milked the meat of his penis.

“Yeah? You like it that bad? Eating me out just like this?” You’d ask, all breathy and hoarse, eyes crossing and tongue lolling out to wet your dry lips. “You’re are so sick, fisting your cock while your therapist sits on your face.”

Your filthy mouth would spur him on, the flicks of his wrist getting faster and erratic, the obscene wet noises becoming louder as he drank from you, the clean scent of your lotion pervading the air.

“Uggh!” He’d grunt, suckling on your clit in a wild frenzy, hand flapping up and down the shaft of his quivering dick, the two of you tangled in a mess of limbs and fluids, and it still wouldn't seem to be enough.

He’d want more, he’d want all of you. He’d want to mark you in love bites and paint you with his seed. On your pretty face, on your soft tits, on your lovely cunny.

God, he wanted to cum inside you, stuff you so full of him that you’d forget your own name. He’s sure you’d be tight, but he’d stretch you out, mold you to the shape of him. Plant his sticky essence so deep into you that you could never rinse it off, never rid yourself of him.

He would hear you cry out when you reached your peak, euphoria weighing down your bones and turning your brain to mush. That elastic band of tension would finally snap, and Dean would groan as the first ropes of his release would spurt out of him, landing on his lower abdomen and soiling his clothes. He wouldn't stop pumping the span of his cock, nor would he stop lapping at the dripping fabric of your covered pussy, extending your orgasms till the muscles of your calves began to shake.

Once he was thoroughly spent, he opens his eyes to find no trace of your presence. Only the ticklish sensation of the lace adorning your off-white underpants that he’d been pressing to his face, and the light, enchanting notes of your body lotion that he had used as lube.

It had all felt so real that he takes a while to find his bearings, lungs burning as he gasps for air, never once having experienced this intensity of rapture.

He feels damp with sweat, mingled with the smell of sex, and his hands tremble as they rearrange everything back where it belongs. The leather recliner chair, the now wrinkled clothes he wore, and the priceless box of mementos he kept of you.

After all of it is put back in its proper place, he attempts to fix his disheveled hair before unlocking the door of the garage and tiptoeing around the house.

The wooden floors creak under his feet as he walks to the bathroom, passing through the ajar door of Ben’s bedroom and catching the boy fast asleep in his bed. He hears the clinking of glass coming from the living room and he can assume Lisa is downing her daily bottle of wine.

He goes to bed after taking a relaxing shower, the once tense muscles of his back appearing to be loose and reinvigorated. The soft mattress sinks below his weight, even though his body feels like a flowing feather, and by the time he drifts off to sleep, he dreams only of you.

The next morning, he wakes up early, silently getting ready so as not to disturb the sleep of the brunette who occupies her side of the bed. His breakfast is quick, serving as fuel for the busy day ahead, and the drive to work proves to be uneventful.

It’s tedious labor to go about his business on the construction site, with time seeming to stand still as his mind wanders to more exciting places. A vampire’s nest in Manning, Colorado. A zombie case in Greenville, Illinois. Under your sheets, in your warm embrace.

What a shame wishful thinking doesn’t get him anywhere, though. He will never hunt again, the thrill of the job forever lost, traded by the adrenaline rush of endless sawing and drilling. And as far as spending his time anywhere near the strong pull of your magnetic field goes, Dean refuses to give up. He won’t quit that calling.

“Hey, George, can I talk to you for a sec?” As soon as his watch marks 4 p.m., he marches up to his supervisor and asks the question.

“Sure, what’s up?” The balding man looks up at Dean from his clipboard, ceasing his scribbly writing to give him his full attention.

“I’m gonna need to leave a little early, if that’s okay.” In all honesty, Dean would probably go even if it wasn’t okay. He can always get another gig, but what he had to do today couldn't wait.

“Again? It’s the second time this week alone.” George informed him, putting his pen behind his ear with a furrowed brow.

“I know, but Lisa’s mom has been sick and she’s taking care of her, so sometimes I need to pick Ben up from school.” Dean’s face didn’t twitch by a single millimeter, his gaze never wavering as the lies poured easily from him. “You understand, right?”

George flattened his lips in thought, considering the Winchester’s words.

“Okay, but you owe me.” He said eventually, waggling his index finger at his work colleague.

“You got it.” Dean agreed, smiling contently as he removed his safety gear, patting the foreman on the shoulder before making his exit.

He had the route of your apartment committed to memory, parking in that same spot across your street feeling like the most natural thing to do. Only this time, he had no intention of seeing you perform your daily, mundane tasks, having arrived earlier in the afternoon so that you’d still be in your office.

Your place would be free for him to explore, perhaps succeeding in his search for an object that might be linking the ghost to your home. Once he got that, it was a simple salt and burn and it would be done, you’d be safe. This would mean that, technically, you’d have no need for Dean’s protection, for his watchful eye, or his proximity. He could conclude his therapy sessions with you and go back to his life as if you had never crossed his path.

Everything would be the same as it was before, and Dean could busy himself with dog walks where he’d meet no beautiful women, Ben’s little league softball games, silently having dinner with Lisa, and so on and so forth, ad infinitum.

Yeah, no. Now that he thought of it, he wasn’t going to do that. He was not about to shield himself from your light or deprive himself of your incandescent glow. He was like a moth to a flame, and he had no intention of forsaking your heat. He wasn’t that much of a masochist.

With that issue settled in his mind, he turns off his car’s engine, ready to let himself into your space so that he could rid you from not only this danger, but any others that might present themselves in the future, ‘cause he wasn’t going anywhere. Except that before he can leave his vehicle, he catches a glimpse of a shadow moving inside your apartment.

He squints, trying to get a better look at the figure. As it approaches your living room window, the image of a man becomes clear to Dean’s eyes. He had an average build, not particularly tall. Wavy dark brown hair and clear pale skin, apparently also smoker’s breath from the lit cigarette he was holding.

“The fuck?” Dean curses, whispering to himself, utterly confused by who that man was and what he was doing in your place while you were not there. Did you have a stalker or something?

The guy moves around calmly, taking a puff of nicotine from time to time, checking out the portraits on your wall and the family pictures scattered here and there. He puts out his cigarette when he’s done, preferring to throw it out the window than in a bin, which Dean deduces to be because he doesn’t want you to know he smokes. He then pops a mint into his mouth, as if on cue.

He walks to your bedroom, seeing a lonely stuffed animal on top of your dresser and smiling at it, probably finding the fact that you have it as cute as the Winchester does. He opens your underwear drawer and Dean wants to kill him, gaze at the fear in his eyes before they go dark.

How dare he defile your privacy in this manner? Crudely going through your intimate possessions as if he was inspecting an exhibit in a museum. He shouldn't be allowed to set foot in the room where you lay your head at night, where you are at your most vulnerable. The more time passes with Dean evaluating the situation, the more he wants to go in there and permanently remove that piece of shit from your area.

The man lets out a low whistle when he plucks an especially tiny pair of your panties from the drawer, but before he could do anything more, his phone begins to ring.

“Hi, Y/N.” Dean can read his lips when he picks up, clear as day.

He lets go of the garment, putting it back where he found it and closing the drawer, a stupid smile on his lips as he starts to talk to you, but Dean doesn’t pay attention any longer, completely tuning out after that.

His world seemed to collapse around him. The revelation hit him like a tidal wave, engulfing his heart in a hurricane of seething emotions.

So he was the ‘them’ you were masturbating to last night.

Was he your boyfriend? Fiancé? Dean knew you weren’t married and nothing that remotely inferred that you were in a romantic relationship ever came up. Not during his extensive research on you or when he was the one scouring your apartment. Definitely not during the talks the two of you shared.

Or maybe you simply didn’t want to tell him. Didn’t feel the need to. After all, he was nothing but a patient to you. You certainly had no intention of disclosing personal details of your life, let alone invite him to be a part of it.

The guy talks to you for at least twenty minutes, settling at the edge of your bed. He’s all goofy grins and heart eyes, nervously running his hands through his hair every five seconds, as if he was chatting with his high school crush.

Seriously, this is your type? A wimpy little boy that can’t even handle holding a conversation with you? Has he ever even fucked you properly, or did he just whisper some lines he took off the internet in your ear, and had you take care of yourself?

The mere thought of you, the one he yearns for so deeply, involved with that mouth breather sends waves of uncontrollable rage surging through Dean’s body.

No, this can’t be right. You can’t be wasting your time with someone like this. You could do so much better. He will prove it to you.

Eventually, Fuckface says his goodbye and hangs up, pocketing his cell and getting up from your bed. He straightens the coverings and goes to the kitchen, opening your fridge and taking his sweet time examining the items within.

Dean’s eyes drift out of focus, vaguely aware of what was taking place inside your apartment through his peripheral vision, his brain getting caught in a ruminating spiral.

His head becomes a cauldron of uncontrollable dark thoughts, envisioning what he would have to do to set this right. A chilling torrent of murderous jealousy consumed him, coursing through his veins, demanding satisfaction with a dangerous force.

How could you do this to him? Surely you knew you’re the object of his affections by now, he had made that clear to a point where it was just ridiculous, so why let him burn in fury from the agony of betrayal?

Was this what you wanted, to push him perilously close to the edge?

Maybe it was.

Maybe that was exactly what you intended.

Maybe you were just playing a game of cat and mouse, filling his days with your wonderful, radiating aura and then tugging the rug from under him. Removing your sweet smiles, and your dazzling eyes, and your addictive perfume.

Was this your idea of foreplay?

Fuckface decides on sparkling water — of course he does —, retrieving it from the refrigerator and then moving to explore the contents of the cabinets, searching for a glass.

You need this parasite out of your life. Maybe Dean should exterminate it for you.

He’s so lost in that cyclical headspace that he doesn’t see what was happening at first, the sudden appearance of a flashing shape, the sound of glass shattering and a guttural scream snapping him back to reality.

“Help!” The man begs, voice crackling from sheer terror, a grey-skinned specter rushing at him.

Dean doesn’t even blink, instincts kicking in as he spurs into action, grabbing his salt-loaded shotgun and concealing it in his waistband the best way he can. He leaves his car, sprinting across the street and entering your building, running up the stairs to your floor, climbing two steps at a time.

He bursts through your front door, and he would've for sure broken it off its hinges if it hadn’t been unlocked. He walks forward into your living room, the open-concept layout of your kitchen permitting him to see the gruesome scene as it unfolds.

The ghost of Judith McCook, rotting corpse completely naked, long auburn hair caked to her face with endless dripping water, skin unnaturally grey. She hunches over the guy, snarling like a rabid dog and holding him by his neck with superhuman strength.

Water rushes out the kitchen sink faucet, overflowing it entirely, Judith’s death grip keeping his head submerged. He yells, gurgling under the water, thrashing and flailing helplessly. He pushes against the sides of the sink, arms straining as he attempts to get back up with all of his might.

Dean pulls out his shotgun, aiming at the spirit, salt-loaded cartridges at the ready. He has her in his sights, less than five feet of distance between them. One shot and she would dissipate harmlessly for a short time, enough for the man’s life to be spared.

But… He hesitates.

As he stands there, witnessing the life being drained from a man, a moment of bitter truth pierces through the air. The gravity of the situation was palpable, as fate had placed him at a crossroads. His whole existence had been defined by taking down monsters, saving people, but now conflicting emotions churned within him, tearing at his conscience.

The choice before him was agonizingly clear. Prevent the killing of the one who stood in the way of his own happiness, or let him perish and secure his own desires.

In that fleeting moment, he makes his decision.

The allure of you, of his need to have you all to himself, overwhelms any flicker of empathy or compassion that may have remained and Dean lowers his weapon. He doesn’t look away or closes his eyes, not even flinches, a cruel and calculated resolve settled upon him as he just watches.

The guy’s struggle continued for what felt like forever, desperation rooted deep in his bones while his limbs flapped about, moving erratically. With a cold detachment, Dean waited, till eventually it was over. The moment the man died, body standing still, the ghost vanished, flickering lights accompanying her exit.

The weight of Dean’s ruling, having acted as judge and jury, descends heavily on his soul, forever altering his perception of himself and the darkness he didn’t know resided within.

There are no long sighs or second guesses, he just puts his gun back in his waistband, face unreadable as he gets to work. He rolls up his sleeves, careful not to let the water get on his clothes when he moves to turn off the faucet, pushing the limp body to the floor with a thud.

Under the sink, he unscrews the shutoff valve, allowing a steady stream of water to flow from it. Hopefully, when you come home, which should be soon, you’ll conclude that the soaked floors were due to a plumbing problem. Your apartment already has so many issues, according to you, what’s one more?

The sole of his boots crunch some of the broken glass beneath him, and he goes on to methodically clean it all up, flushing it down the toilet once he’s done.

Back in the kitchen, Dean stares at the cadaver with a tut. He’s lying on his back, lifeless eyes perpetually open and mouth agape.

“Dammit.” The Winchester murmurs to himself, mildly annoyed. It has been a long time since he last had to conceal a body and he wasn’t looking forward to it. “Oh, well. I knew the minivan had to be good for something.”

In less than thirty minutes, he has the corpse in the back of his car and is driving away, thankful that you hadn’t arrived home yet. He crosses state lines, leaving Michigan in favor of disposing of the dead guy as far away from home as possible.

He imagines you’ll wonder about the man, maybe even miss him, but it’ll pass. Dean broke his phone and the SIM card, so soon you’ll come to believe that he simply ghosted you, which makes him chuckle at the irony.

Then, you’ll forget about his existence, free to occupy yourself with what really matters, which is building your relationship with Dean. Because that will happen, whether you like it or not.

It’s past seven at night when he comes home, digging graves not being as easy as he remembered. By the time he crosses the threshold of his house, Thor is at his feet, sniffing instead of barking happily, probably smelling death and dirt on him.

“Finally!” Lisa’s steps are hard and so is her voice when she greets him at the foyer, holding a mysterious bag in her hands, rage taking over her expression.

“I know, you’re pissed about something I did or didn’t do, but can you cut me some slack? I had to work late today. I’m gonna take a shower.” Dean rubs the bridge of his nose as he says it, trying to move around her in the hallway to get to the bathroom, but she blocks his passage.

“I sent Ben to sleep at a friend’s house, we need to talk.” Her gaze doesn’t cower under his like it did last night, her grip tightening on the bag she’s holding.

“For the love of God, now, really? You wanna talk right now?” If there were a contest for world’s worst timing he’s sure she’dwin. All he wants to do at this moment is get in the shower and then drag himself to bed, he has to be rested for his appointment with you tomorrow, after all.

“Yes, I want to talk about the fact that you say you had to work late, but I ran into George at the supermarket an hour ago and he told me that he hopes my mom is feeling better?” She answers without skipping a beat, and Dean curses George and his blabber mouth under his breath. “Yeah, he said that you told him you had to leave work early ‘cause she’s been ill, which surprised me, since that’s the first I heard of it.”

“Okay, that sounds suspicious but I-” He begins to try to explain, not exactly sure where he was going with it.

“Suspicious? It sounds like you’ve been lying to my face, Dean.” She interrupts him, her eyes filling with tears, and Dean can’t pinpoint if it’s from anger or hurt, perhaps both. “You know what? I thought that you were going through a rough patch, that you were missing your brother, I even thought that you started hunting again.”

“Lisa-” He tries once more, but she raises her hand for him to stop.

“And to be honest, I would've understood if it was any of those things.” Her voice cracks and fat tears begin to fall down her cheeks. “But then I find this.” She pulls a box out of the bag she’d been holding, and Dean takes a step forward in her direction when he realizes it’s the box.

“What the fuck is this?” She shouts.

End notes: Yeah, Dean, what the fuck is this?? Also, I do not know who might be interested to know this, but the thing that inspired this story the most was a song by Sleeping At Last called Two, I visualized the plot unfolding after hearing it for the first time, which was years ago. Anyway, the chapters are getting way longer and heavier and that makes them a lot harder to revise, so I was wondering if any of you would be so kind to offer your services as a beta to this fic, it would a great help. Just putting it out there.

#spn fanfiction #dean whinchester #dean winchester imagine #dean x reader #dean x you #supernatural smut #fanfiction #fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural x reader #pov dean winchester

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rashomonss · 1 year

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A Love for Another

a/n: ok I’m done writing fluff it’s back to angst now haha. anyway sorry for the small hiatus from writing i’ve been so sick, but you can expect the next chapter of a humans wrath tomorrow/ today (it’s like the middle of the night where i am and i can’t sleep lmao)

anyway i had to indulge myself a bit with this because of the new nightbringer lesson so here’s some solomon angst. enjoy!

warnings: potential nightbringer spoilers

“I can never get you to look at me the way you look at them”

Life was like a bliss for Solomon now.

He was so excited to live with you. Especially since he liked the idea of you coming home to see him, as well as having dinner with you every night. Shopping and gossiping with you was just as exhilarating for him as he thought. And cleaning with you was just as fun.

Finally; he could finally have you all to himself without the demon brothers interfering

But it was only for a while.

He never had your full attention anymore, it was always somewhere else, and he knew exactly where and who it was focused on.

No matter what he did, no matter how nice he was, or even if he protected you, it was never enough.

You still went back to them.

You still tried, even though it hurt, and Solomon knew just how badly they hurt you. You promised things they didn’t even understand the severity of. You vowed your life to them without a second thought, nothing would stop you from getting closer to them. You were determined to get back to the life you knew with the demons you so desperately loved.

You would even go so far as to put them above humanity itself; did it ever occur to you the severity of a choice such as that?

All of humanity. You, a human, would side with demons if it came down to choosing sides. Maybe he was a tad too overconfident in your feelings towards him and humanity. He could say he never suspected you to do such a thing, but with how close you and the brothers were in the present he now realized that he should have been more cautious.

When it came to the demon brothers, your sense of reason and duty was thrown out the window, instead you would always choose to be stubborn and do what you thought would be best for them.

You put your life on the line for these demons countless times over and over. You did so in the present, which resulted in threats against your life multiple times, and you’re doing so in the past. What do you hope to gain from doing that? Solomon couldn’t possibly understand.

They didn’t even know you MC, he did.

He knew everything about you. Your favorite food, favorite color, your favorite song, your dreams, your ambitions, everything. Whenever you explained something about yourself he found himself intently listening with every fiber of his being.

Why? Simple really.

Solomon was hopelessly in love with you from the beginning.

But he never had a chance to act on his feelings, because he always felt as if he belonged in the background while all the brothers stole your attention. Of course he hung out with you on multiple occasions but they never let him get too close, in fear of losing your attention to the witty sorcerer.

But what didn’t help was the fact you didn’t seem to mind them taking your attention either. You always found your way back to the seven of them whether you meant to or not. Lastly the most unpleasant thing was the fact that half of the brothers were already starting to develop feelings for you.

It was way too soon for that.

He saw the way Mammon would stutter over his words or how bright red his face became when you smiled at him. Or the way Levi would now unconsciously look for you to drag off to his room so you could spend time with him. And the way Asmo became more open and comfortable with you, to the point where he would always have to be touching you. Or even the way Lucifer now looked at you, or especially when he would flat out ask for your help and no one else’s.

It tore him apart inside because this was finally his chance to have you all to himself without any distractions. Even with the brothers now developing feelings for you again they weren’t the biggest obstacle he had to overcome.

The biggest obstacle he was currently facing was you.

You were the only thing standing in his way of trying to take that step forward with you.

Of course he’d never do anything without your consent so he waited. Hoped, and even thought about praying to someone, anyone that maybe you felt the same as he did.

He even believed you did for a while when you opened up to him more after the two of you started living together. However that dream was soon shattered when he saw the way you gazed at them the more they spoke to you.

A gaze so full of admiration and longing, but also one of pure and utter love. A gaze so utterly beautiful and full of emotion that could even shake the three realms. It reminded him of something you said to him recently about the brothers.

“No matter how many times I meet them, I will always fall in love with them.” You said to him, with an expression so full of pure determination.

It caused him to wonder did he look at you like that?

No, no gaze of that magnitude could even come close to the way you looked at the demon brothers.

He wished that were him, but he knows that deep down that he’ll never be on the receiving end of that gaze. So even in the past he feels like an outsider. But sometimes that’s just the way things are meant to be.

Maybe he was never destined to be with you, or you were just never destined to feel that way about him. No matter the cause, you were already wholeheartedly in love with the brothers, and he had to come to accept that.

It’s all right in the end, because he’s come to believe that staying by your side will be enough for him.

Even when it doesn’t feel like enough, he’ll deal with it.

As long as you're happy, so is he. So he can bury these feelings of jealousy and desperation if you’re content with falling in love with the brothers all over again.

However his love for you will never falter, you could even say it’s one that could possibly transcend time itself.

#obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me nightbringer angst #obey me angst #omswd angst #demon brothers #obey me mc #omswd mc #obey me solomon #omswd solomon

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analogwriting · 4 months

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Star-Crossed

Chapter 1: Cridhe

Corazon x gn!reader word count: 3.1k a/n: figured i'd pump out two chapters for y'all. a prologue as always and the first chapter. i definitely decided to just google the word 'heart' in different languages and use that for chapter titles bc idk what the fuck else to do next

After that, you didn’t see either of them again. The two left the hospital and you kept your end of your deal. You erased all traces of them; it was as if they had never been there to begin with. No one questioned you either, you were too valuable to lose anyway. Besides, they knew you had a reason - it wasn’t like this was something you did on a regular basis. You just rang in a bunch of favors and hoped for the best.

Following the events, you finally had the courage to tell your father that you didn’t want to be a part of…any of it anymore. You were going neutral. Things were really put into perspective for you and really solidified just what you wanted. You wanted to be able to help people, not hurt people. You also wanted to be able to help others get out of situations like that as well.

Your father respected your decision. He knew you were strong enough to hold your own and make your own decisions, he also knew he wouldn’t be able to stop you if he tried, so he let you go. He also had an inkling as you started withdrawing way before you had made your final decision. He didn’t include you in any family decisions or really tell you what he was planning with anything. The only thing the two of you talked about was what normal people talked about. Sure, he might have talked about people in the family, but he didn’t talk about work. It was more just funny stories, or if people were getting married, etc. You would talk about school and work.

Because of your father’s understanding, you were able to fully focus on your career. This rundown hospital was going to become your ultimate project. Your lifelong dream. You were going to help people in more ways than just health. You wanted to be able to help other people like yourself, getting them out of that kind of lifestyle. That was your ultimate dream.

You stayed in that hospital, moving up quickly. Before long, you were practically running the place yourself. You graduated college early, getting your doctorate at a young age. Your grades were off the charts and it seemed things came naturally to you. You had an immaculate memory, helping you memorize just about anything and everything, which also aided in your work.

Over the years, you also built up the hospital’s reputation. You turned the entire place upside down. It was now state-of-the-art. It was the top hospital in the region. You had dragged it from its own grave and given it new life. It was now constantly bustling, people didn’t shy away from coming to get help. You made sure to have some of the brightest minds, but also made sure to have the best bedside manner.

There was also another, underground side of the hospital you developed. You had achieved your dream, for the most part. While you are neutral and had gotten out of the mafia lifestyle for the most part, everyone was always haunted by their pasts. You were a central hub for them coming and seeking medical attention. Your hospital was good at keeping things under wraps and doing things under the table. You also aided any and all families. You didn’t care who was associated with whom. Your goal was to help anyone who needed it.

You also helped those who no longer wanted to be in that lifestyle. They would come to you, you would give them new identities, and send them off into the metaphorical night to live a new life. A few families tried to take over the hospital over the years, all of them quickly learning that you wouldn’t go down without a fight. No one had been able to take you down. Between your own abilities and the small handful of trusted people you had to help defend the hospital, no one was taking you over.

Those same people helped you with the underground side of things. They were some of the brightest minds so they ran that part of the hospital.They were your most trusted staff and they tended to stay on the underground side of things, coming in when you needed them. There was always at least one or two staff in the wing, others coming in when you needed. It obviously wasn’t as busy as the hospital itself, so you didn’t need to have it bustling at all times.

“You’re spacing again, doc.” You were ripped from your thoughts as a voice rang through. You looked over seeing one of your most trusted colleagues, Marco. He’s been with you since almost the very beginning, you trusted him with everything. He was also one of the few people who actually knew your history. He helped you run both sides of the hospital. You honestly wouldn’t be able to do all of this without him.

“Thinking about that night again?” There was a smug grin on his face and you wanted to punch him. You groaned, nodding. “I don’t know why. I’ve been thinking about that time a lot as of late.” You folded your arms, shaking your head as you stepped away from the window you had been gazing out of.

Over the years, you hardly thought of Rosinante and the child he had been with. You were focused on your goals, on helping people. The last few weeks, he started appearing in your dreams and you started thinking of that time a lot once more.

“Maybe you’re going to see them again,” he mused, leaning against the doorframe with his coffee mug. “Subconscious manifesting n’ all that.” You regret telling him about your dreams.

You gave him a droll look. “Please don’t tell me you actually believe in that shit.” You rolled your eyes as you moved to pour coffee into your own mug before taking a sip.

“I’m just saying. Why else would you be thinking of it all of a sudden? You even admitted that you hadn’t thought of them in years. And dreams too? We all know that shit is important.”

“Yeah, but that doesn't mean…” You just sighed, shaking your head. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t pop into your head. It was rather annoying. If fate was planning something, you just hoped she’d get it over with.

“Maybe it’s ‘cause it’s been a decade? I don’t know. Do memories have anniversaries? Milestones that cause something like this? I don’t even know what the hell I’m asking.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. Ugh, maybe you’re just working too much. You were always here.

“Well, if they’re traumatic, yeah. Which, for you, should be almost all of your childhood.” Marco snorted and you rolled your eyes. “Okay, that’s…” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Then I guess if that was the case, I’d just be reveling in the past all the time. So I guess I can check off whatever weird ass theory I had going on.” Not that you could really call it that. It was more of a nonsense ramble.

“I’m still sticking with my fate theory. Who knows, maybe you’re soulmates and they moved back. Expect to see them soon.” Marco gave you a lazy grin and you rolled your eyes. “Twenty bucks says fate.”

“I don’t mean to offend you, but you’re out of your mind.” He just laughed at you, shaking his head. He glanced at his watch. “Oh shit - we’re late!” He jumped, straightening himself out. “Let’s go.”

You blinked, immediately forgetting about your conversation. “Late? For what?” You looked over your shoulder at him as he pushed you out of your office. You were currently racking your brain for what could possibly be going on right now.

“The new guys are starting today! You know, the two new interns? For their residency or what have you.”

“Oh shit, that’s right!” You started walking quickly down the hallway, Marco hot on your heels. You stopped causing him to almost run right into you. “What were their names again? Shit. I forgot my clipboard.”

“For fuck’s sake, y/n.” He grabbed a tablet from a nurses’ station, tapping away on it. “I don’t know why you don’t just use the tablets, for one. For two, here you go.” He handed you the handheld device and you took it, looking at it.

“Shut up. You know I just like having papers.” You read the screen before you. “Looks like…Trafalgar Law and Nico Robin? They both look promising.” They both had high marks and seemed to pass their tests with flying colors, they also had glowing reviews from their professors. They also seemed to have jumped a few grades like yourself. Prodigies.

“Wow, I’m reminding you about an important meeting and helping you gather your information beforehand and you can’t even thank me? You wound me, y/n.” Marco feigned hurt, putting a hand over his heart and pretending to faint.

“Oh my god, you are so dramatic.” You laughed, shaking your head with a roll of your eyes. “You’re right. What would I do without you, Marco?”

“That’s better. I know my worth.” He straightened himself out and you chuckled. “Alright, let’s go. We’re already late as shit.” You started back down the hallway, Marco close on your heels once more.

It wasn’t long before you entered the conference room where the two were sitting. They both turned to look at the both of you. You were greeted by a rather grumpy looking man and a neutral looking woman. Both gave off the same but different vibes.

“So sorry we’re late. We were in a meeting.” Marco shot you a look as you lied and you ignored him, looking at the tablet in your hands once more before setting it on the table.

The two just looked at you and you nodded. “Anyway. I’m Doctor y/n. I’m the head doctor here at the hospital. I run the place. I am typically always in meetings or putting out fires, so I won’t be able to work as closely with you as I would like, but I will be keeping an eye on the two of you. Especially with how promising your resumes and such are. I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful addition to the team and I hope that you find everything to your liking.” You smiled at the two of them.

“I do have an open door policy, so if you need anything - don’t hesitate to come and talk to me or ask. If you can’t find me, feel free to leave a note or let Doctor Marco here know. He tends to somehow always know where I’m at.”

“I have a y/n radar. Comes with the territory of knowing them for so long. It’s how I keep them out of trouble.” You glared at him and this time he’s the one that ignored you. He gave a small wave. “I’m Doctor Marco, by the way. I’m their right hand man and will be the one who is going to be looking over the both of you. Like y/n, I also have an open door policy. We all are going to be seeing each other a lot, so it would really suck if we hated each other, yeah?”

The two just stared at you blankly. It was a bit unnerving, but the both of you had somewhat made fools of yourself by being late.

“Since we were late, I’m going to go out and grab us some drinks. I have a bit until my next meeting and figure that it might be a good way to apologize. Marco is going to start giving the history of our hospital and how things run. Write down your orders and I’ll go and grab them from the cafe down the street.” You smiled at the two before you. The woman returned your smile, but the other seemed to keep the same face.

Oh man, you always hated the awkward first few weeks of anyone’s residencies.

After grabbing the interns’ orders, you headed out. You obviously knew yours and having known Marco so long, of course you also knew his order.

You were mentally kicking yourself for being so off today. You had no idea why you were like this. You were usually so punctual, organized, and not so…’spacey’ as Marco had put it. Sure, you were growing more spacey as of late, but especially today. You also weren’t the type to stutter and stumble over yourself when introducing yourself. Nothing seemed to be going right. You were mentally kicking yourself.

A familiar feeling overcame you, finding yourself moving before you could process what was happening. Your hand reached out, catching someone by the collar before they fell flat on their face. “Oh my god. Are you okay?” you asked, moving to help them up.

Only when they stood, they towered over you. A familiar feeling once more and your eyes widened as the man turned around. You felt your entire body grow rigid and your blood run cold as the memories came flooding back for a second time today. You had to be fucking joking.

“I’m so sorry!”

Donquixote Rosinante stood before you with an apologetic look on his face. The air around him was definitely different from the last time you saw him but…it made sense considering the circumstances. He was more…playful and lighter.

“Are you alright?” he asked you. You blinked, coming back to reality, clearing your throat. “Uh, I’m fine. But are you okay? You’re the one that fell.”

Marco’s words were echoing in your head and you could imagine the look on his face once you told him about what happened. Maybe you wouldn’t. No, you had to. You told him everything.

“I’m fine! I’m really clumsy so I fall all the time.” He let out a nervous chuckle before pausing. He tilted his head to the side. “Do I know you? You look familiar.” He leaned in close, causing you to back away slightly.

You shook your head, putting your hands up as some kind of barrier between the two of you. Your head was spinning and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. “I don’t believe so.” He narrowed his eyes as he looked at you, making your heart rate pick up three fold. You thought it was going to burst out of your chest.

“Well, I have to get going. I’m running late. Be careful and make sure you watch where you’re going,” you said, inclining your head and basically running off.

What the absolute fuck? Your head was spinning. Was that really him? Was everything Marco said true? Did you start remembering those things because he came back and you somehow sensed it? Was it because you were soulmates? No, no. That was fucking ridiculous. There was no way. This was all just pure coincidence.

You wouldn’t have been so shocked to see him if you hadn’t literally been dreaming about the man the past few weeks. If you had just ran into him without all the pretext, you wouldn’t have thought anything of it.

That had thrown you so off guard you almost completely forgot to grab coffee and had been halfway back to the hospital when you remembered, so you went again. Only you took a different route this time, you didn’t want to risk running into him again.

You eventually dropped the drinks off, but you had a conference call that you had to take care of, so you couldn’t stick around. You did apologize about fifty times to the two. You were making quite the first impression. Robin seemed rather amused, telling you it was fine. Law didn’t say anything except for a thanks for the coffee. Real talker. But you also have done nothing except make a fool of yourself, so he was probably reconsidering working here. You didn’t blame him.

Finally, things calmed down for you. You were sitting in your office, head down on your desk as you were taking a breather. The events of earlier still ran in your mind as well as a million questions. Why now? Of all times? You hadn’t even had time to think let alone process what happened.

“You look like you’re having a great time.”

You looked up at Marco with a deadpan expression. “How could you tell?”

“Oh, with the way you’re bouncing off the walls, for sure.” He snorted, setting a mug on your table. You thanked him before taking a sip.

“So, what happened on your little excursion?”

You looked up at him as he asked. “How-”

“C’mon. You’ve been off all day. I can feel your anxiety radiating from across the hospital.” He began to sip from his own cup, looking at you expectantly. “Plus, I’m your best friend. I would lose my title if I couldn’t tell.” He grinned at you.

“You know how I’ve been thinking about…you know…all that lately?”

His eyebrows raised and he nodded, immediately intrigued. He looked at the hesitant expression on your face and his eyes widened. “No fucking shot.” A shit-eating grin spread across his face. “I fucking told you!” He laughed loudly, ringing off the walls. He jumped up from his seat, doing some stupid ass victory dance causing you to groan into oblivion.

You glared at him, rolling your eyes. “It’s just a coincidence. Shut up.”

“If it was that, you wouldn’t be all up in a tizzy about it, now would you?” The stupid grin wasn’t going away.

“Who the fuck says ‘tizzy’ anymore.”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“Damn right I am.”

“Failed. Try again.”

You let out a long sigh and shook your head. “It was only once. I’m sure it was just coincidence and I’m thinking too much about it. I’m just on edge is all.” You shook your head. “They are from here, maybe they moved back for some reason.” You frowned. “Who knows, maybe he rejoined his family.”

Marco rolled his eyes, scoffing. “Yeah…sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night, doc.” He wasn’t even going to humor any of that.

“If it happens again, then I’ll…” You thought. “Probably really freak out. You’ll be getting a call immediately.”

“I’ll be waiting.” He grinned behind his mug and you just narrowed your eyes at him. You opened your mouth and he held up his head. “Oh, it’ll happen. Trust.”

You just rolled your eyes, shaking your head. There was no way it could happen again. Especially not in the way that it did. Right?

#also like #should i be making my posts all fancy #like some people make their shit real cool but i just ain't got the patience for all that lmfao #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #donquixote corazon #donquixote rosinante #donquixote rosinante x reader #corazon x reader #corazon #am fics #sc

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