#I also want to expand it across the shoulders of the jacket

[tj-crochets]

The first sleeve of my rainbow swirls jacket is done (for now)!

I’ll probably go back later and make the rainbow wider, possibly going all the way around the sleeve, but for now it’s complete

[xxkissesforchanniexx]

Oh, How I Hate Him

Pairing: bad boy!Minho x student council prez!fem!reader (college au) Genre: angst, fluff Word count: 8k >.> Warnings: college idiots, mention of drinking, drugs, smoking O_O DONT DO ANY OF THAT, cringe romance, enemies to lovers, dick exboyfriend. protective Minho >.> <.< thats it i think????

a/n: did I intend for this to be smut? Yes. is it? no. do i mind tho? absolutely not someone help me come up with a better title...

You inhaled deeply and smiled contentedly as you entered the student council office.

"Good morning Ms. President." Your friend and vice president, Jia, said.

You gave her a side eye. "I said don't call me that."

"I'm sorry." She giggled, "Yuna, schedule today?"

"We have to collect signatures for lowering student parking costs and start the campaign for the cafeteria to be expanded and renovated this summer, you also have to meet with the principal to discuss how the high schoolers are going to tour the campus, " Yuna, the student council secretary and planner named off things from the list.

You nodded, "Not too much." You checked your watch, "I have a class at 8:30 and I haven't gotten my coffee yet, any of you want to come with me?"

Jia and Yuna looked at you, with are you for real right now man? faces before getting up and grabbing their bags to go with you.

You went to the cafeteria and as you were getting your iced americano, a student came up to you.

"Y/n, can you sign here to help keep our debate program alive? The district is trying to cut off our funding to have our formal debate team dissolved." The boy handed you a clip board and a pen.

You signed your name before picking up your coffee, "I'm running a little late, Yuna, can you take the papers on my desk to the principal's office?"

"Sure." Yuna picked up her own coffee and ran off.

You briskly made your way across campus and checked your watch, 8:25 AM, right on time. You entered the history classroom and smiled, "Good morning." You greeted your professor before going to sit, not too close to the front, not too far back, and not perfectly situated in the middle.

As the classroom filled, your friend, Seungmin, leader of the science olympiad team sat beside you.

"You're a bit late don't you think?" You teased, taking out your notes.

"Not everyone i always going to be as punctual as you, Madam President."

You rolled your eyes.

The chatter in the classroom died as the teacher stepped to the front of the class, "Good morning class, as you know this is the only history class you have to take to meet the graduation requirements. So, if you intend to slack in my class just know your future depends on your performance in this cl-" She was cut off.

The door opened and you looked away from the teacher seeing a man with redish brown hair and a leather jacket at the door, he had pretty eyes and small but plump lips. His eyes raked over the class for a moment before he looked at the teacher, "Sorry, I'm late."

"You are?" She raised a brow.

"Minho. Lee Minho." He said, walking into the class and going up the steps to the back of the classroom, he passed you and your eyes met. He smirked slightly and you made a face, not bothering to watch where he sat.

"I hope you won't be late again, Mr. Lee." The teacher said.

"No promises." He said.

She pursed her lips before continuing her speech about the importance of the class, where to find the resources, the books you'd need, the minimum grade you'd need to pass the final and so on. A snicker made Seungmin look over his shoulder.

Minho was sitting beside a guy with chubby cheeks and big eyes. Han Jisung, who, raised a brow at you and Seungmin as if to ask what.

The teacher kept talking and Minho and Jisung's distractions persisted before finally the teacher, who you now knew as Mrs. Jung snapped. "Gentlemen, is there something that's important enough to interrupt my lesson?"

Minho looked a bit surprised and Jisung blinked a few times.

"No.. ma'am." Minho said tentatively.

"Mr. KIm," Mrs Jung said.

Seungmin looked up a bit confused. "Ma'am?"

"Swap seats with Mr. Lee."

Your mouth fell open, SAY SOMETHING! SAY NO! ASK HER POLITELY TO RETHINK HER DECISION. "Ma'am I really think-" You started.

"As the student body president and one of the three candidates for valedictorian of your graduating class, Y/n, I think you'd be a good influence on Mr. Lee." She reasoned.

Seungmin put his notes in his bag and sighed deeply. "It's fine Y/n, we'll talk later anyway." He went up the steps and waited on Minho to collect his things before sitting next to Jisung.

You looked at Minho as he sat beside you. This was going to be a rough semester.

You went to the student council office after class to handle what Yuna had told you about in the morning and as you set your bag down you bristled, staring at the stack of papers on your desk. The same stack of papers you told Yuna to take to the principal that morning. You sighed and grabbed the papers and left the office, walking briskly down the hall and to the administration office, greeting the schools secretary before setting down the papers in the principal's office.

You went to return to the student council office, pulling out your phone to check over things when you passed the entrance to the arts department. You froze as you saw something in the corner of your eye, looking up to see Hyunjin and a guy in a hoodie.

You raised your hand and opened your mouth to wave but stopped yourself. Who was that guy anyway... You shrugged and went back to the office to handle your things.

You started counting the signatures the other members of the council left on the table, you let out a soft sigh of frustration, for people who complained about it being too much to park on campus, they really, REALLY, did not seem to mind that much.

You went back to your apartment and greeted your roommate, Doyeon, who, was sitting on the couch eating your snacks.

"HEY! Those are mine!" You huffed.

"Are they??!" She looked genuinely shocked.

You rolled your eyes and went to go change before sitting beside her and munching on the snack too.

"Oh, Yeongs-" she started.

"Save it." You said, looking at your phone.

"But he-"

"DODO!" You looked at her. "No. You told me not to be persuaded by him, you shouldn't be either."

"But he seemed genuinely sorry." She muttered.

"He always seems someway." You rolled your eyes and looked back at your phone. You got a notification from instagram suddenly.

You looked at Doyeon. "Does EVERYONE on campus have my instagram?"

She looked away from the TV, "Why are you asking so suddenly?"

"No reason." You muttered, looking back at your phone before following Minho back. He and his stupid self.

The following day Minho was late, much to your delight, you took notes and listened to the teacher for about the Egyptians and the Romans. Twenty minutes late, Minho strolled into class and sat beside you, not bothering to take out his books or anything.

"Good morning Madam President." He whispered.

"You could at least try to get here on time." You said, quickly scrawling down something Mrs. Jung had said.

"You could at least try to relax sometimes." He shot back rolling his eyes.

"If you're going to be late," You slid the first part of the notes to his side of the desk, "Play catch up."

Minho pursed his lips before sighing and taking the notes, he wrote them down faster than you expected, sliding them back to you after about five minutes and peeking at the sheet you were working on. You didn't say anything until as you were writing, he kicked you under the desk. You looked at him.

He was following along with the teacher as if he hadn't done anything. You rolled your eyes and went back to working. Minho's antics persisted until the and of class and as you were packing up your stuff you turned in a bit of frustration back to your desk to see more papers.

Minho was talking to the girl across the isle, she giggled at something he said and you grabbed the papers and pulled out a folder, arranged it neatly then put it carefully into your bag.

You were about to go when you realized your water bottle wasn't in your bag. You looked around your area for a moment before you clenched your fists at the sight of your bottle in MInho's lap.

You grabbed it and were about to leave when he held up your phone.

"LEE MINHO!" You fumed, grabbing your phone and storming out.

"You seem mad-" Jia said, steering clear of your volcanic rage as you threw your things onto the table.

Some of the members of the council squeaked and took off running.

"I hate Lee Minho." You practically growled as you sat in your chair.

A few days later you had worn a pair of heels for a meeting and they had been hurting your feet. You grimaced slightly while getting your coffee and Hyunjin sighed.

"You don't have to wear those shoes y'know." He sighed.

"I have to build habit." You huffed.

Yet when you got to class you really wished you didn't have to "build habit". But you wouldn't admit Hyunjin was right either. So you suffered through the entirety of class and somehow made it to the student council office. The moment you sat down and sulked over your feet you got a text.

You looked at your phone and rolled your eyes at the sight of Minho's contact. You ignored the "You look like you stepped on a lego" text and tried to turn to your work when another text came to your phone.

"Don't ignore my texts." followed by a "Call down your guard dog."

You stared in confusion for a moment before opening your phone and responding finally.

You opened the door to see Seungmin glaring at Minho.

"Y/n tell this hooliga-" He started.

"What do you wa-" You interrupted Seungmin only to be cut off by a pair of slippers being thrusted into your face.

"Wear comfier shoes. You look like you've been in pain all day. Idiot." Minho turned on his heel and walked away.

You blinked in shock for a moment. "Did he just.."

"You give her the slippers?" Hyunjin asked as Minho blitzed into the dance studio.

"Yeah..." He relaxed as he realized he was safe. He must've looked like an idiot. But when you were leaving the campus that evening Minho saw you and Seungmin walking to thee latter's car. A small smile came to his face as he saw you were wearing the slippers.

The next few months were packed for you, your teachers piled work on you like there was no tomorrow, and you wrote essay after essay. Business with the student council wasn't much better as Jia got sick with something and the campus tour date was coming closer and closer.

And Minho? Oh how you hated him. You hated the way he walked and talked and how he seemed to understand things without reading too much. You hated how he smirked at you in the hall way and how he got under your skin.

"I'm going to assign you your first project of the semester," Mrs Jung said from the front of the class.

You sucked in a breath and looked at your already stuffed bag, full of books and papers for your other classes.

"You will work in pairs." She said, "The rubric and criteria needed are online, if you have any issues feel free to ask me. I will assign partners now."

You exhaled shakily, Please don't be Minho. Please don't be Minho Please don't be Minho-

"Kim Seungmin and Baek Soojin," She said, "Han Jisung and Park Junho,"

Please don't be Minho!

"Soo Dokyung and Jin Sungwoon."

GOD IM BEGGING PL-

"L/n Y/n and Lee Minho."

You wanted to die on the spot.

"Woulda look at that prez, we're a team." Minho whispered, smirking at you.

You bit your lip. This wasn't so bad, he seemed pretty good at turning in his stuff on time and was mostly accurate. You had everything under control. You took a deep breath and looked at him. "If this is going to work we need to distribute the work fairly. So, I'll research the fall of the roman empire and you research the rise, we'll have a document to collect references and-" You head throbbed for a moment and you grabbed your forehead.

"Are you okay?" Minho tilted his head, brows furrowing.

You nodded, "I'm fine."

Only you weren't because after class you went to the student council office and sat at your desk.

"Y/N are you okay?" Yuna asked as you held your head, sucking a deep breath before continuing with your work.

"Yeah I'm good." You said taking out your computer and getting ready to work.

"You look a little pale.." She muttered.

You still got to work on your research though, Yuna left after a while, telling you to take care of yourself and relax. Earlier than usual you finally decided to head out, calling a cab and-

"What's the president doing here so late?"

You looked at Minho, who was carrying a duffel bag and his keys. "Work," You said, looking at the road waiting for your cab.

He stared at you for a moment. "Are you okay?"

You turned to him, "Why are you so concerned if I'm alright today? I'm fine, thanks." You said a bit harshly.

He made a face, "You just look really burnt out. It's late, let me give you a ride."

"I already have a ride on the way, Minho," You shut him down fast and he pursed his lips.

"Whatever you say, Madam President." He walked away to the parking lot and you couldn't help but feel a pang in your chest, like you'd gone too far.

Your cab came and you made it back to your apartment, Doyeon was the third person to point out your sickly appearance but the only one who actually made it to feeling your head and gasping at how hot you were.

"What the hell Y/N?! Are you trying to kill yourself?!! Come on!" She dragged you to your bed and made you put your stuff down and change before getting you into bed. "You aren't going anywhere ma'am." She said, "You sit here and get better, Nurse Doyeon will take care of you."

"I'd rather die." You teased.

She pouted, "Meanie."

You rolled your eyes and smiled at your friend, "Thank you Dodo."

"Of course y/nnie."

If you felt like shit at school, that was only the beginning, you whined in pain at your sore throat and Doyeon had to convince you to eat even though it hurt to swallow. After you finally finished the noodles and all the soup Doyeon made you, she made you take medicine for your throat and to reduce your fever before letting you sleep finally.

Only as you were drifting of you thought about history and mentally berated yourself for not studying ahead for the lessons. You were about to grab your laptop when your phone buzzed. A message from Minho.

Minho stared at his phone for a moment, he thought about how you seemed a but more irritable and pale and how your usual upright, perfect posture was slackened. So he did do his research that night, and looked at his cat Dori, "She's so uptight. It's not fair.."

The cat mewed softly.

"You're right, I'll give her something tomorrow." Minho muttered, "Maybe she's overworking herself. You think she likes pasta? Or maybe I should make her strawberry cake..."

In the morning, Minho was getting ready for class when his phone rang, he pulled his shirt over his head and grabbed it, answering the call.

"Hyunjin?" He said, putting the phone on speaker.

"You coming today? Changbin might come too." Hyunjin said on the other end.

"Y'know I have a project to work on." Minho said fixing his hair in the mirror.

"Man, just a few hours."

"Yeah, nah." Minho said.

"Alright, your loss." He went quiet for a moment, "Did you see Y/n yesterday?"

Minho thought about how you looked so tired the day before. "Yeah."

"I'm a little worried y'know." Hyunjin sighed. "She never says anything when she doesn't feel well. But oh well, we'll see later."

Minho thought about what Hyunjin had said the entire way to class and for once, he was on time, sitting in his seat waiting for you. The classroom filled, the teacher entered, and you... never came.

He fidgeted slightly. Where were you? For the first time since he walked into that history class—much to Mrs. Jung and Seungmin's shock—Minho took notes. He jotted down things that were important and little details on the side, he underlined and highlighted did his best to seperate definitions and dates from key material as he'd seen you do.

After class he went to the student council office. This was abnormal. Where were you? You would never miss class even if you didnt have a ride and had to walk the entire way... in flip flops (as if you ever would) YOU WOULD BE AT SCHO-

"If you're looking for the president she's not here today." The secretary said.

"Why? Is she ok-" Minho started only to stop himself, "No problem."

He went to the arts department to see Hyunjin.

"Thought you weren't coming today?" The long haired man said, taking a hair band between his teeth so he could gather his hair.

"Came to say hi, I've got work to do." Minho shrugged.

"OH, 'cause Y/n isn't here?" Hyunjin giggled as he tied his hair.

Minho made a face. "Really wanna go that way?"

"No sir.." Hyunjin laughed nervously as Jisung and Changbin walked in.

"Minho! You came! Man we c-" Jisung said only to be cut off by Minho patting his head and moving him, hands at his waist.

"I came to say hi," Minho smiled, "I'm going now, I have work to do."

Jisung pouted. "It's cus Y/n is sick isn't it?"

Minho took a deep breath. "I'll see you guys tomorrow?"

When he left he made another copy of his notes in color, hole punched them, and put them in a nice folder before he went to his apartment. He stared at his phone.

"You should text her." Chan said over his shoulder.

"Why would I?" Minho looked at his friend. "Nah." He tossed his phone onto the couch and went to the kitchen and got to work making soup.

Jeongin appeared at his side. "Whatcha making?"

"It's not for you guys." Minho said, rolling his eyes.

"Then who is it for?" Chan said, looking over his shoulder.

"Yeah." Jeongin huffed.

Minho's mouth opened and he closed it again, deciding it was better to not say anything. Somehow he managed to get the food out of the apartment without either man getting it. He drove to your apartment and went up to your floor before raising his hand to knock on the door, he stopped himself.

Stop being an idiot... he thought before knocking on the door and waiting for a moment.

A girl with long hair and big eyes stared at him for a moment. "You are?" She said, leaning against the door frame.

Minho looked at her, "Lee Minho, Y/n's friend."

"Oh?" the woman got in his face. "What exactly makes you think you're Y/n's friend?"

"I- Well-" Minho stuttered.

"Doyeon."

Minho looked past the woman at you and sucked in a breath, you stood there wearing a pair of pajama pants and a baggy shirt.

"You know this guy?" the woman, Doyeon, questioned, pointing at Minho.

"He's the guy I'm doing the project with." You said, before clearing your throat and coughing in your elbow.

"Eesh, back to bed." Your roommate started ushering you back to your room and motioning for Minho to enter.

He closed the door behind him and put the food down in your kitchen but you pulled away from Doyeon and sat on the couch, arms out towards the man.

Doyeon looked between you for a moment. "I'll uh- Leave y'all to it-"

"Minho give me the damn food." Your eyes narrowed.

He smiled slightly and looked around your kitchen before finding a bowl and spoon with Doyeon's help. He got you some soup and carefully brought it to you.

You took it from him and took a cautious sip, eyes lighting up at the taste of it. "AH! Minho! You saved me! Doyeon's food was going to kill me!"

"HEY!" Your roommate huffed.

Minho laughed. "I'm glad you like it. You could've told me you were sick. We're par- friends no?"

You looked at him for a moment. "Yeah. My fault.."

He shook his head and handed you the folder. "Catch up Madam President."

You looked at the folder for a moment before looking at him, "I- thank you."

Minho somehow managed to suppress the smile that wanted to come to his face. "Yeah, whatever, just make sure you get better, taking notes is hard." He muttered.

You rolled your eyes.

After Doyeon went to bed, Minho persuaded you to also go to sleep, he made you take more medicine for your cough.

"You'll be back tomorrow or the day after?" he asked.

"The day after probably, in case I'm still contagious." You said softly.

He hummed. "I'll take good notes then."

You laughed lightly. "Thank you really.."

"The president can't fall behind because of an illness."

You smiled. "Idiot.."

He smiled gently. "Go to sleep, I'm going to leave before your friend jumps to conclusions."

You huffed a laugh. "Okay."

"Alright... Sleep well Y/nnie." He said as he left your room.

"Good night Min..."

Minho closed your bedroom door and made his way out of your apartment, making sure to lock the door before leaving. He leaned against your door as he closed it. "Dummy..." He muttered. "Relax it's good for you.." He said softly before walking down the hall to the elevator.

You did manage to come in to class the day after and you were immediately greeted by the student council in a bit of disarray because of the upcoming campus tour.

"Excuse me!" You clapped your hands to get the people's attention.

They all looked at you before Yuna jumped on you.

"OH Y/N I'M SO GLAD YOU'RE BACK!" She squealed.

"Schedule." You smiled at her.

"Yes ma'am!" She jumped into her her chair and spun for a moment before slamming her hands on her desk. "The high schoolers will be touring our campus the day after tomorrow, on Monday you have your speech in front of the administration and you have a scheduled meeting with a student later.

You nodded.

The people in the room stared at you for a brief moment.

"WELL?!" Jia shouted all of a sudden. "GET TO WORK WE CAN'T HAVE CHAOS WITH HIGH SCHOOLERS ON CAMPUS!"

The students started scrambling to get things done and you stood and went to history, greeting your teacher and apologizing for your absence before going to sit beside Minho.

"You're late." He smirked.

You checked your watch, you were three minutes later than usual. "You're suspiciously early."

"It's becoming a habit. You're rubbing off on me." He shuddered slightly.

You pushed him gently and he turned to look at you, as if asking you seriously just shoved him like that.

"I hope you don't rub off on me." You smiled.

Minho rolled his eyes.

Mrs. Jung started class and you kicked off quickly, you had to admit, Minho was a decent note taker.

After class you went to your office and fixed yourself a bit, waiting for the student who wanted to meet you. You opened your lip gloss and were in the middle of applying it to your lips when you heard a voice you dreaded to hear..

"Dolling up for me?"

You froze, looking at your mirror.

"Y/n?" Yeongsu said in a sing-song voice, you felt icky with how he drew your name out slowly, taunting you... "You haven't answered my calls, thought I'd pay you a visit." he grabbed the tiny cat figure you had on your desk.

You closed the mirror and looked at him. "Why are you here?"

"I got worried when I heard you were sick." He sighed, walking around your desk and kneeling, he tried to take your hand in his, "After all, you're my girl.."

You pulled your hand back roughly and glared down at him. "I am not yours. If you have nothing to talk about please leave."

Yeongsu cocked a brow. "I'm not one of your little student council members you can order around, Y/n." He stood.

"Leave." You said more firmly.

He reached his hand out to caress your cheek and you grabbed his wrist.

"Don't touch me," You said through grit teeth, "Leave now."

He stared at you for a long moment and you held your breath. Yeongsu pulled away and rolled his eyes, "You're still so uptight." he muttered, reaching into his pocket and taking out a cigarette. "That's fine," He looked at you. "I like it when you fight back."

You bristled.

He lit the cigarette and took a long drag, exhaling slowly. "If only they knew their perfect president ended up in my be-"

"Get out!" You shouted, springing from your seat so fast it hit the wall with a loud bang.

Jia opened the door to the office at that sound and stared in shock at Yeongsu.

He smirked taking another drag in the silence, exhaling and then whispering, "You're not all that amazing, Madam President."

You stared at your desk, trembling with rage as he walked out of the room.

"Y/n.." Seungmin ran in and stared at Yeongsu as he left before running to you. "Y/n-"

"Open the windows.." You muttered, the smoke choking you, no, the thought of that bastard choking you.

"Wh-" Jia started.

"Open a damn window!" You shouted before falling into your seat, burying you face in your hands. "Please..."

Seungmin ran to the side of the room and began opening the windows.

You took a few deep breaths, "Let's get ready for the tour..."

While finalizing the plans for the tour, Jia and Yuna left before you as most of the council did, you sent emails to the schools that would be coming and arranged for food for the students. You were so engrossed in your work you didn't notice the sky darkening and were only pulled out of your grind by the rumble of thunder.

You looked out the window as rain droplets started pelting against the window. "Crap." You looked around your desk for an umbrella and cursed as you found nothing in its usual spot.

You grabbed your stuff and shoved it into your bag before heading to the front of the school, you opened your phone about to call a cab.

"Y/nnie never has a ride does she?"

You turned and stared at Minho.

He smiled, holding up his keys.

In the car the only sounds there were was the sound of the window wipers and the quiet music on the radio.

"Let's go to my place, it's closer." He reasoned.

You looked at him. "Yeah, okay."

When you got to Minho's apartment he got out with the umbrella before going to your side and shielding you from the rain as you walked in. The elevator ride was quiet. Too quiet so you said, "We're going to keep researching."

"Yeah." He said, "Uh- My friends hang around here often. Don't mind them too much, they're a little um.. rowdy."

You nodded, "I don't mind."

Only when you got to the apartment you were surprised to see not one or two friends but three men and three cats.

One of the men looked up from something he was eating, "Minho, who's the girl?"

"Minho brought a girl home!?" A man with very chubby cheeks who you recognized immediately as Jisung poked his head out of a room, he froze when he saw you before laughing lightly and going back into the room.

"He did?!" A familiar voice said in shock.

You looked at Chan one of the fraternity presidents.

He looked at you, then Minho and back at you, "How did this happen?"

"RIGHT!?" Jisung called.

"We're here to work on a project!" Minho huffed, "Please.

"OHH!" The muscular man at the table looked a bit shocked for a moment. "We'll leave then, yea?"

"Yeah.." Minho rolled his eyes as Jisung and Chan came out of wherever they were and gathered their stuff.

As they were leaving the muscular man shouted, "USE PROTECTION!"

Your face got hot and you turned to the door.

"CHANGBIN!" Minho shouted.

"SORRY! Leaving now!" He called back before he finally left.

You looked at him. "Let's get to work shall we?"

He laughed slightly and motioned to the sitting area.

"Your cats are cute." You said as a dark colored striped cat came up to you.

"That's Dori." he said as you pet the cat. "Soonie." He motioned to a white and orange cat laying on the floor, "Doongie." He pointed at the last cat which was walking over to Minho.

"The names are cute." You hum as you let Dori run off.

"Someone called them old fashioned..." Minho rolled his eyes.

"Who?"

"No one important. Let's get to work."

For the most part you and Minho worked very diligently and then your phone buzzed, you gave it a glance before it buzzed again and you frowned turning it on its face to ignore it. It buzzed again and you huffed, grabbing the device.

You saw the instagram messages and rolled your eyes.

You hum and put your phone down.

"What?" Minho asks.

"Nothing." You shrug.

Parties with Hae-joo were... a lot... especially since Hae-joo was such good friends with Yeongsu.. 'For old times sake' worried you. Did Yeongsu put her up to it?

You jumped as Minho flicked your cheek. "HEY!"

"Pay attention." He rolled his eyes.

You hummed and looked back at your work.

"Is there any particular place you like?" Minho looked up from his computer.

"Not really no." You shrugged. "Maybe my bed."

He rolled his eyes. "The beach?"

"Never been." You said looking at your computer.

"HUH!?" he blinked in shock. "It's like an hour away!"

"I never have time I'm always working or sleeping. or both." You laughed lightly. "I didn't live too close to a beach when I was a kid either."

"I'll take you one day."

You stopped typing. "You serious? I don't need to go-"

"Its really pretty there. At the beach I mean.. especially at night."

You noticed the way he smiled slightly.

"Friend of mine took me and" He sat up and started typing. "It's just really nice."

"I'll consider visiting." You laughed.

That night Minho was scrolling on instagram when he got a message from Jisung.

The first thing Minho thought about was how the heck YOU of all people would actually go to a party like that.

The tour began early, the moment the high schoolers arrived you made sure everyone was on their best behavior. As you showed the students around the classrooms and lecture hall, you noticed him watching you from his seat in his accounting class.

Yeongsu was watching you as you told the high schoolers about the class before motioning for them to follow you out. You came to your history class and greeted Mrs. Jung, explaining the touring high schoolers and then you explained the class and it content and why it was a mandatory class.

"We'll continue now," You said about to leave, as you ushered the students out, Minho came down from his seat and grabbed your arm gently.

"Are you coming over later?" He asked.

You blinked a bit stunned, "No, I have to get ready for my meeti-"

He made a face, "We need to finish the project,"

"We have a few more days. It's fine." You smiled and pulled away.

"Is he your boyfriend?" One of the high schoolers asked.

Your mouth fell open, "I-"

Minho looked at you and smirked, "She's a very close friend, we're not dating."

"Oh," the student said.

You cringed as one of the girls gave Minho her number on a slip of paper. "Let's continue."

Minho looked at you and laughed lightly.

After classes you were in the student council office and you decided to visit Hyunjin in the dance studio. You opened the door and blinked a few times in confusion at someone fixing Hyunjin's stance.

"It's ugly." The person said. That voice was familiar...

"AGH! HOW!" Hyunjin fumed.

"Stand like this!" The person stood the supposed proper way.

"THATS HOW I W-" Hyunjin's mouth froze as he saw you.

"What?" Minho stared at you in shock for a moment.

"You like dancing?" You smiled slightly.

Hyunjin grinned devilishly behind Minho and tried to run away but the older man grabbed him and dragged him back.

"Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Is that a problem prez?"

You made a face. "No. Not at all. You should teach me sometime." You walked around a bit. "I just came to say hi... I'll go. Leave you guys to fix that."

Hyunjin tried to pull away from Minho who held him tightly by the forearm. "SAVE ME!" He mouthed.

You rolled your eyes and left.

At the party, it wasn't surprising that majority of the students were acting like it was a club, you squeezed through the crowd and looked around a bit.

"Ain't no way the president herself came to a party like this."

You turned and rolled your eyes at your friend Hongjoong, "Long time no see."

"How could you ever see any of us if you're always cooped up in that student council office?" A tall dark-haired man threw an arm around Hongjoong.

"You act like I'm there 24/7 Hwa." You laughed.

"We never see you anymore." He shrugged, "You don't want to associate with the riffraff of your past huh?"

"You aren't riffraff," You sighed, grabbing a soda from a table as you continued walking, "I just decided to grow up a bit."

The loud music shook the whole house and you felt it vibrating through you as you walked. You opened the soda can and took a quick sip.

"Y/N!"

You turned to the voice and smiled at Hae-joo, "Hey."

She hugged you, "Didn't think you'd actually come..."

"I didn't either, looking for a fr-" You stopped half way through your sentence and stared at Yeongsu, who was smoking in the corner with his guys, staring at you.

Hae-Joo's eyes followed yours. "He won't bother you, I made him promi-"

"Since when has he kept a promise." You took another sip of your soda.

"Come on, everyone's waiting for you." Hae-joo dragged you to the kitchen, all your old friends were there, laughing and smiing and drinking.

San was the first to notice you. "Y/N" He put down his drink and hugged you tightly.

"Hey! Hey-" You squeaked as everyone else piled on you.

"Give the girl a break. You'll crush her." Yunho rolled his eyes and smiled, "Good to see you."

You and your friends caught up when you noticed him as he walked in with Jisung and Chan. You left your friends for a moment and started walking over to him. His dark eyes met yours through the crowd and your heart skipped a beat.

He walked over to you and laughed slightly as he looked you over, "First time I've seen you dressed in something other than business casual or pajamas."

You made a face, "I'm not always dressed business casual."

"You always look uptight." He motioned to the crop top. "It's a good look on you."

Your face got hot and he looked at someone talking to him for a moment. You left Minho there and went back to your friends, you huffed as you noticed they were no longer in the kitchen.

You picked up your soda and took a sip after you finished the can you noticed that your head felt a little foggy like you were drunk. You stumbled slightly, it was a fucking soda. Unless.. you cursed under your breath, why had you left it unattended.

You stumbled and almost fell over, someone caught you and you were about to apologize when you saw the tattoo on his wrist and pulled away.

"Y/n, are you alright?" Yeongsu reached for you and you shook your head. You needed to leave, you needed to find Minho.

You pushed past the sweaty, dancing bodies and found tipsy Hyunjin and Chan.

"Y/n?" Chan stood, completely alert suddenly, "You drank?"

You shook your head, "Where's Minho?"

"I haven't seen him, do you need to lea-"

You pulled away and ran looking around you went up the steps and looked around at the drunk students, then as you entered a room you saw them. Minho, Jisung, and several other people you didn't recognize, you're heart stopped as you took in the position Minho was in.

A girl sat on his lap, taking turns with him at a cigarette. You watched as the smoke clouded up as Minho exhaled. The girl giggled and was practically rubbing herself all over him. Your breath picked up and you felt tears clouding your vision.

Minho looked at the door and his eyes widened slightly at the sight of you. Your eyes met and you shook your head before you took off running.

Minho came out of the room looking around the party. Where had you run off to.. You weren't the type to drink. At least he didn't think you were. You looked scared.

"Y/N!" He pushed past some people in the party then he heard someone.

"Y/N JUST RAN OFF!" a guy groaned.

Minho turned slowly.

"YEONGSU!" Hyunjin...?

Minho stared at his friend who had another guy by the collar.

"What did you do?" Hyunjin said lowly.

"My friend put something in her drink nothing bad-"

Minho saw red. "WHAT!?"

Hyunjin released Yeongsu and backed up as Minho stalked towards them.

Yeongsu stared at Minho, "What? You want to fight me? I didn't think she'd run out like th-"

Minho punched him hard.

You lay in bed staring at your ceiling as your phone rang for what felt like the hundredth time, maybe it was, you weren't counting.

"Girl.." Doyeon whispered as she walked into your room with (fav flavor) ice cream. "What happened?"

"Maybe I'm stupid, Doyeon..." You muttered.

Doyeon looked at your phone as it rang again, Minho's contact flashing across the screen. "Did he-"

"Him and Yeongsu aren't that different." You rolled away from her.

"Y/n.." Doyeon hugged you, "You don't need a guy, you've got me and Jia and Yuna... Hell even your guy friends."

You stared blankly at the wall.

"Y'know what, we're going to cheer you up, right now." She dragged you into a sitting position and opened the tub of ice cream, "The student council president is the strongest most independent woman I know, and she is the last person to beat herself up over a boy."

You stared at your friend. "Y-Yeah."

"Come on." She held up two spoons, "We can watch that show you wanted to try."

You walked into the student council office the following Monday and sat in your chair. "Yuna, schedule."

"We have a general meeting today and that's it." She said.

"Uh huh."

Jia's computer dinged. "You have a student meeting today."

"Schedule it for after lunch." You said, you walked into history class and turned in your paper on the Roman empire, you felt a twist in your gut, Minho wrote this with you.

You went to your seat and pulled out your computer, as class began you took notice of how Minho wasn't late... he never came.

You pushed down the worry in your gut and dragged yourself to lunch then the student council office. On your way you saw Jisung in the hall, he looked at you for a moment before turning back to the person he spoke to. You got into your office and stared at your phone, the notifications from Minho had piled up,you scrolled through the message notifications of "I'm sorry", "Answer", and "We need to talk".

You put your phone down as the door opened and you stared at Yeongsu. He smirked as he closed the door, "Heard your little boyfriend had a bit of trouble." You noticed the black eye he had.

Trouble... what trouble could Minho be in? "He's not my boyfriend," You said. "What can I do for you, Yeongsu?"

"Come on Y/n. Let's think logically here, you like when I do that." He walked around the desk and behind your chair. "Minho is in the same boat I am, maybe he's got a little heart. Maybe he's tryna crawl out of the pit we're in. But the same way you went to that party after you said you were done with us, he's fucking around with other girls because it's in his mind. You can take the person away from their habit. But you can't take the habit away from a person, Y/n..."

You stared at your desk. "What do you know..." You muttered as you looked at your phone on the desk. A notification from Jisung came on the screen.

"Huh?" he turned your chair to face him. "Think about it Y/n, you came back, you haven't changed deep down and neither has he."

"What do you know?" You looked up at him speaking a bit louder.

"Y/n."

"I'm asking 'What do you know?' what do you know about change that I don't? For you to educate me?" You stood and glared at him. "I'm different, I'm uptight, I'm reserved, I don't trust anyone! But I trust him. I've seen him change, I know he's not perfect, he's tempted all the time, he makes mistakes! He's human. He's more human than you will ever be." You pointed a finger in Yeongsu's face and said lowly. "So don't tell me he'll never be better. Leave." You pointed to the door.

Yeongsu stared down at you. "You think he's that good for you huh.."

Your eyes narrowed.

He didn't say anything more and left the room. You stood there and shakily exhaled before grabbing your phone and looking at the messages from Jisung.

You ran as fast as you could to the front of the school and called a cab, when it arrived the guy looked at you in the rearview mirror. "Where to?"

"Beach please.." You said frantically.

"Lady the beach is like an hour from here-"

You threw a wad of twenties to the front of the car. "Is that enough?"

The guy opened his mouth then closed it before turning on the engine again and looking at you, "Buckle up."

You gave him another twenty, "Make it fast."

When you got to the parking you waved the driver off and looked around, you ran to the sand and searched. You ran a bit and stumbled looking around you moved to get your phone and called Minho. It went straight to voicemail and you screamed running further into the beach looking for him, anything, his car, his jacket, anything..

You fell and gasped as you noticed that your heels were digging into the back of your ankle. You sat down and stared at your phone, the last message from Minho was from the morning. You took off your shoes and winced. Remembering how Minho had given you those slippers and told you to wear more comfortable shoes.

Your eyes filled with tears as you called him again, it went straight to voicemail. You were about to throw your phone into the sand when you heard the soft sound of sound shifting beneath someone's feet.

"Didn't I tell you to wear comfier shoes.." Minho said softly, he kneeled in front of you, taking your feet gently in his hands.

You stared at him, tears starting to fall from you eyes, "I was rushing.."

He looked up at your face and smiled softly. "You crying prez?"

You wiped your face and punched him. "I WAS WORRIED!"

"I thought you didn't want to see me anymore, I messed up, you wer-"

You kissed him hard.

He blinked in shock for a moment as you pulled away.

"Don't scare me like that!" You punched his chest again.

"I'm sorry.." He whispered. "For everything."

You stared at him for a moment before hugging him tightly. "I hate you."

He smiled and hugged you back. "I love you, too.."

Minho picked you up on his back and carried you back to where he parked his car. He got you in and drove to a small convenience store, buying you bandages for your feet and some slippers. He sat you on a bench outside and carefully put the bandages on the blisters on your feet.

You watched him for a while. "Who was that girl..."

"Which girl?" He looked up for a moment.

"The one who was on your lap." You muttered.

He looked up at you. "Y/n," he looked apologetic. "I don't even know her..."

You smiled slightly, "So she isn't important?"

He smiled. "Were you jealous?"

"NO!" You looked away, cheeks burning.

"I like someone a lot more than a random hoe.." He put the slippers on your feet.

You spun to look at him. "Who?"

He rolled his eyes and stood, bending to be eye level with you. "You, Madam President." He kissed your forehead gently.

You stared at him.

"It's late, let's go back, hm?" he helped you to your feet and led you back to the car.

You finally checked your phone after it buzzed for what felt like the millionth time.

"Do you want to go back?" Minho looked at you, before looking back at the road, "We have class tomorrow."

"I already turned in the paper." You said, putting your phone down. "We can go back tomorrow.."

Minho looked at your hands on the console, "Yeah..." He reached over and took your hand in his, giving it a soft squeeze.

You walked into the student council office to see Jia and Yuna talking to Yeongsu.

He noticed your presence first and quickly got up. "Y/N!" He walked over to you, reaching for you.

You took a step back. "Explain." You looked at the girls.

"We thought he'd know where you were." Jia said.

"Where were y-" Yuna started.

"With me." Minho walked in and smiled at Yeongsu.

Yuna and Jia stared at you.

Yeongsu opened his mouth to say something but stopped as Minho put an arm around you.

"You are?" He stared at Yeongsu.

Yeongsu closed his mouth and walked out.

Seungmin looked at Yeongsu walking out as he walked in, took in the sight in front of him and rounded on his heel. "Good luck with that."

"I KNEW IT!" Yuna pointed at you two.

You rolled your eyes.

"Coffee?" Minho whispered in your ear, "You don't want to be late."

"Why so uptight?" You raised a brow at him.

He rolled his eyes and smiled as he dragged you out.

© 2024 xxkissesforchanniexx. DO NOT COPY OR TRANSLATE MY WORK

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 if your name is in blue i can't tag you very sorry

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@seungminindabuilding @ot8 @Rylea08

[aylish91]

More nagamob?

When an opportunity is presented to escape "The Den", you take it...Right?

Ao3 Link in Title

Caged Bird

You were in the grand kitchen making a sandwich when what you considered, “the” door, burst open. You had barely enough time to register the locks clicking before it was slamming it into the wall. Expecting your loud semi-friend Papyrus, you were not prepared for who came through instead.

A shorter skeletal Naga dressed in an impressive white satin suit made his way inside with a huff. A sky-blue tail peppered with tiny yellow speckles swished agitatedly behind him as he slipped through. Though, at the sight of you, he paused.

Something in the way he stared made you uneasy. You could tell he was hiding something behind careful neutrality. The sudden expanding of his eyelights didn’t help as his grin twitched into a smirk. Their blue and yellow glowed a little too brightly.

“HOW INTERESTING…”

While you were locked in the stare, a taller Naga sauntered in behind him. Light reflected off the orange iridescent scales, undertones of dark amber shimmering amongst soft honey. Unlike the first, his suit was dark, the jacket draped over a slouched shoulder.

The rising tickle in the back of your mind was going to drive you crazy. It felt wrong… You almost missed the grip placed on the smaller’s shoulder.

“May I be of service gentlemen?”

The blue Naga hummed. Holding up a gloved hand, a large manilla envelope quickly made its way into it. Then, with a flick of his wrist, the dense parcel slid across the counter.

“THIS IS THE MONEY RECOVERED FROM THE STYGIAN INCIDENT. MAKE SURE THIS GETS TO THE DON. I WOULD HATE FOR IT TO GET, LOST.”

He didn’t wait for you to answer, immediately turning to continue out the kitchen doors into the lounge.

Coils shifted.

“You’re that new courier that’s been going around, aren’t you?”

You wanted to sigh but knew better. Before you had been so graciously dragged here, all your new clients had called you that. Even though you had been delivering for the past two years, everyone had still considered you new. It had been rather annoying at times having to deal with those who had little faith in your abilities. It was also getting harder to hide your expressions since coming here.

“Yes sir, unless someone else has started since I last checked.”

He chuckled, eyelights flicking over you. “What has ya hangin' around the Den? Bossman decide ta pull ya under his scales?”

Your smile twitched. “You could say that.”

“How convenient.” You didn’t like the subtle shift you felt between the two of you as he leaned on the shared counter. You couldn’t quite put your finger on what had changed, but something definitely had. At least the tickling sensation started to settle and dissipate. “How about you help a guy out then? Got a… shipment need’n to be brought in from the car but I also got other business I need to get done. Promise I’ll make it worth your while~”

That familiar pit of anxiety stirred in your stomach followed by excitement. He didn’t know it, but simply being allowed outside was more than you could ask for. It was the chance you needed to finally leave this place. It had been quite a bit harder to escape than anticipated. Windows were too heavy, high, or locked. Most doors were also locked, some guarded from the outside. The only open rooms were yours and those with nothing to offer.

This man’s ignorance could very well be your ticket out. It brought a genuine smile to your face.

“Of course. I’d be happy to help.”

“Good.” Giving a nod, He pushed the envelope into your hands with a wink. “It’s all in the car, pretty bird. Don’t disappoint.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. As casually as you could, you grabbed the envelope and abandoned your half-made sandwich. From the corner of your eye, the honeyed Naga watched long enough for you to make your way through the previously locked door.

You were only mildly surprised it led into a mudroom. A large plush rug, a shelf of towels, and a wide U-shaped brush system peppered with lingering scales were only a few of the things found inside. The most important thing, though, was the exit. It was kind enough to lead outside under the cover of a covered archway.

On your right, the driveway passed under the arch into a modest courtyard. On your left was the main drive toward the estate’s gates. Across the way, the access door of a garage enticed you with its open door.

You took a breath.

You could do this. You just needed to hurry before the other house members realized.

Before Don Sans realized...

You were in the garage before you could process anything else, heart pumping. Several Monster-sized vehicles met you, each one surprisingly more nondescript than the last. You prayed you would have luck with keys.

You didn’t know how you would fare driving such a large vehicle, but you only needed to get out of the gate with it. The first opportunity you had, you planned to ditch the thing in case they were tagged. Two cars down, you found what you were looking for.

The engine was still warm, keys in the ignition. Upon further inspection, you took note of a pile of boxes in the back and the lack of “normal” seats and smiled. Your two new friends had really outdone themselves for you.

Then you saw it.

The car had been modified for the use of Monsters. More importantly, Naga, Monsters. There were no pedals of any kind. In their place were hand controls. Very fancy hand controls.

You were going to have to take the time to figure them out.

Time you might not have.

Waving caution to the wind, you threw the envelope on the modified seat and started the ignition. For a brief second, you did a double take when stacks of hundreds broke free but recovered quickly enough to start fiddling with controls.

A push of a lever had the engine revving. Cursing, you frantically pulled back until it stopped. You had to keep yourself from panicking at the noise. All you could do was keep trying and hope no one came to investigate.

Unfortunately, less than five minutes later, a tsk had ice washing over you.

“I AM CURIOUS… WHAT AN INTERESTING CHOICE, BIRDIE. ARE YOU SURE IT WAS THE RIGHT ONE? I DO BELIEVE YOU HAVE TO PULL THE BREAKS BEFORE YOU SHIFT AND ENGAGE.” The Blue and yellow Naga from before leaned casually into the open window next to you, smile ominously bright.

You couldn’t breathe. You were stuck staring into the glow of his lidded eyelights. Your horror only grew when he reached through to pull a lever next to you. It was slow and purposeful. His smile never slipped and his eyelights never left yours. You didn’t know if his uncanny cheerfulness was better or worse than rage.

“HOW ABOUT WE MAKE A DEAL~. I LET YOU TAKE THIS CAR AND ATTEMPT AN ESCAPE, LET YOU SNITCH SANS’ MONEY, AND WHEN YOU ARE INEVITABLY CAUGHT…” His head cocked with a giggle, grin morphing into a sinister smirk. “YOU WORK FOR ME. I’M SURE WE COULD COME UP WITH QUITE THE ARRANGEMENT.”

It was hard to keep the shake out of your hands. He had you in a corner. It wouldn’t take much for him to grab you. He was already far too close. You also doubted the Don would take too kindly to your attempt at escape should you be dragged back inside. This Naga knew this, and he knew you knew it. However, you needed to know more about the type of person he was.

You swallowed. “What if I refuse?”

For just a moment his eyelights shrank and dilated, claws subtly scraping aluminum and plastic.

“YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY ABOUT CAGED BIRDS…” His voice lowered. “THEY DON’T LIVE THAT LONG OUT OF CAPTIVITY.”

…

You were stuck. Context proved you couldn’t not take the deal. At least if you were able to leave now, you had a semblance of a chance at escape.  You only needed to get a few blocks away for you to be able to disappear through the allies and back streets. If you refused, you were as good as dead.

Swallowing, you made up your mind. Tentatively reaching out your hand, you accepted.

He outright beamed. “SO CUTE. SO EASY. I’LL HOLD YOU TO IT, BIRDIE. I LOOK FORWARD TO WORKING WITH YOU~”

The blue of his scales vanished around the other vehicles before you could breathe properly again, but you didn’t allow yourself to relax. Managing to figure out and drive the vehicle to the metal gates, the honeyed Naga winked again as he distracted the guards, motioning you through to your freedom.

…

The first familiar alley you came to, you ditched the car. The Den was behind you and there had been more than enough money in the envelope to give you a plethora of ideas for escape.

It was time to do what you did best.

Disappear…

Grand Master Post Mafia Master Post

[suzdin]

Jackson: a Joel Miller fanfic

(Joel Miller x f!reader)

Summary: You’re taken into the town of Jackson, Wyoming after being captured by members of the council. Unfortunately, one of your captors isn’t too fond of you.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, no use of y/n, age gap (reader is in 30s), angry broody Joel, dom!Joel, smut, semi-public sex, rough sex, dubcon, unprotected p in v, graphic depictions of sex, minimal fluff, some angst, enemies to lovers, mention of loss, mention of violence and weapons, hematolagnia

——

“What exactly are we going to do with her, Tommy? Let her loose only to run back and tell ‘er friends where we are? Huh?”

The voice that drifts in from two rooms over is low, velvet, southern. You hadn’t heard an accent like that since before—well. Since before everything happened.

“We can’t just kill her, Joel, she didn’t want to be with those men!” a second masculine voice responds. “She’s as much a victim as—“

“As who? Diana? ‘Fore she killed her?” the first voice growls. Deep, dark, like ragged silk to your ears.

You feel like the conversation you’re overhearing was meant to be hushed. You also feel like they don’t care that it isn’t, prolonging your torture that much more before they get around to actually killing you. Your hands strain uselessly against the ropes binding you to the chair, and your lip throbs where a third person—a woman—busted it with the butt of a rifle.

You just wish they’d get on with it instead of arguing about it two rooms over.

A third voice chimes in, and you recognize it as belonging to the woman who gave you your still-bleeding fat lip.

“Maybe we could bring her in. Let her prove her worth. We could always use another hand in the work force,” the woman says.

“‘Specially now that Diana’s out of commission? Sure. Bring her in, feed her, give her a bed to sleep in. Why not, Maria?” the original voice quips back.

There’s a settling of air and everyone falls silent for a moment.

“It could work, Joel,” Tommy says. “The man you killed—the one with the red jacket—he made her kill Diana. Saw it with my own eyes. She didn’t want to. She was scared for her life.”

“Should be scared for her life now,” Joel responds.

You whimper and continue to struggle against the restraints, but they’re too tight, too expertly knotted against your skin. You feel the sobs wanting to break free of your lungs, expanding to a tight pressure in your chest, but you choke them back. You don’t want to give the man—Joel, they called him—the satisfaction of seeing you scared; of begging for your life.

“I can hear you, you know,” you call out boldly.

You hear the shuffling of multiple pairs of boots on cracked, dusty wood, and then a large shadow darkens the doorway of the room you’re in.

“Good,” Joel says, his face contorted into a scowl. His dark eyes study you. His hair is dusted with gray, sweeping into the scruff peppering his jaw. You guess he’s probably in his mid-fifties, but judging by the muscles you see moving beneath his clothing, you can tell he’s still in ridiculously good shape.

He’s tall. And broad. There’s a rifle slung across his torso and his wide shoulders flex under the flannel he’s wearing as he removes the gun to point the barrel straight at you.

A hand shoots out from around the edge of the doorway to grab the rifle: Tommy’s.

“Joel…” Tommy says, softly.

You make a meager, pathetic sound, unable to keep your fear in check if only for a moment, but it’s enough for him.

Joel doesn’t take his dark eyes off of you as a single corner of his mouth quirks into the ghost of a bemused smirk, nor do they move when he lowers the gun to his side.

“Who were those men?” he asks, stepping further into the room. Tommy follows suit and Maria is not far behind. “Where’d you come from?”

“Nowhere. I mean—a camp, about five miles from here. Just the four of us. They had been talking about raiding here for weeks, before they actually…” You swallow the hard, painful lump in your throat. “…attempted it.”

“And the men?” Maria asks.

“Found me wandering the roads in Colorado, after…” you trail off, inhaling as a wash of memories come flooding back. “After my grandparents were killed. By clickers. We had a cabin for years, just outside of Boulder. Burnt it to the ground when—when the attack happened. A lantern got knocked over.”

Joel’s eyes bore tunnels into you. You can feel the disdain rolling off of him in waves that almost seem to darken the room around you. For you, or for the men whose names you never even bothered learning, you aren’t sure. Both, probably.

“What was the plan?” Tommy asks you, stepping next to Joel.

“To use me as a decoy so they could sneak in,” you say. “But it all went to shit when they were spotted and they panicked, so they gave me a gun and told me to just start shooting. I didn’t want to do it, I swear, I…” You can feel your resolve slipping, the tears threatening to breach, so you dig your fingers into the wood so the pain can distract you. “Didn’t even think I’d hit anyone, I’m such a shit shot—”

You swallow, again.

“I was about to turn the gun on them when…” You cast your eyes to the woman standing between the two men. “…when I got knocked out.”

The three of them exchange glances. Silently deciding your fate. Eventually, Maria takes a step forward.

“What’s your name?” she asks, so you tell them.

“Nice to meet you. This is my husband, Tommy, and his brother, Joel. Welcome to Jackson,” she says. “You’ll help out around town in whatever way you can. You won’t leave these walls without an escort. Won’t do anything we don’t give you a direct order to do. Is that a deal?”

You nod. “It’s a deal,” you reply, your throbbing, swollen lip quivering. “Look, I’m sorry about… about Diana…”

You feel Joel move before you actually see it, the shifting boards beneath your chair the only indication that his massive frame is moving into your space. Your breath leaving you when you realize what’s happening.

His large, rough hand whips out to grab your chin in an iron grasp, and he tilts your head up, forcing you to look at him. His lips are parted in a partial snarl, and if it’s even possible, the slope of his chest and shoulders appear even broader from this angle, a single vein popping out of of his neck like a lazily winding river in flesh.

The pressure of his hold around the bottom half of your face causes more blood to seep out of your busted lip.

You think he might break your neck. Might snap it in half and be done with it. There’s something wild and chaotic and furious behind those eyes, and the look of him coupled with the fact that he’s still gripping you to the point of pain shouldn’t be turning you on right now, but it is. Heat pulses deep in your core—from the fear, from the pain—and you almost whimper in his grasp. It isn’t audible, but when his fingers readjust slightly, you think he may have felt it.

“She was a friend. A real asset to the community. Don’t you speak her name ever again,” he growls, his hand unmoving from you, the squeeze unrelenting. “Got that?”

You nod, or try to. And you do whimper for real this time.

He lets you go, not saying another word, stalking out of the room like some caged animal recently set free. Tommy and Maria give him a wide berth as they watch him go.

When he’s out of sight, they start undoing the restraints.

——

Jackson isn’t so bad compared to where you were. It isn’t the comfy cabin in the woods with your grandparents, but it’s better than sleeping on dirt. You at least have a cot to yourself in one corner of the mess hall, which is more than you thought they would be willing to give you.

The people are friendly for the most part. Tommy and Maria decide, for your well-being, not to tell people what you did, but you think some of them probably know anyway. Still, they accept you as one of their own, as long as you hold up your end of the work. Which you do, gladly.

You’re mostly assigned to stable duty, taking care of and tending to the horses and the barn. Sometimes, you help out with food preparations or cooking, and occasionally they just sort of toss you wherever they need an extra hand. It’s hard work, but it’s nice, and it keeps you busy whenever you can’t get the unmovable force that is Joel Miller out of your mind.

He has an adopted daughter named Ellie. He’s fiercely protective of her, doesn’t like when you talk to her—hates it, in fact, has told you so multiple times—even though she’s keen to talk to you as often as possible. She’s a foul mouthed little spitfire, but you enjoy your conversations with her when you do manage to escape the sights of Joel, which isn’t often.

You see him frequently, skulking about town, toting that rifle at his back, glaring daggers into you every chance he gets. He’s barely spoken three words to you since the day you were captured.

It’s a cool spring evening when you spot him and Tommy coming back from a run. You can tell right away that the mood is dour; you can read it clearly on their faces, tell by the way Tommy is slumped slightly in his saddle. Maria goes to greet them, and as Tommy slips from his horse, you think you see blood on his shirt, but you’re not sure.

He disappears with Maria a moment later, and Joel grabs Tommy’s horse by the reins to lead them back toward the stables. You think about helping him, but you also don’t want to get in Joel’s way. You especially don’t want to be alone with him right now.

As he turns, you think you spot blood on him, too.

You head to the mess hall to see if the kitchen needs any help. You confirm that they don’t, and so you wander back outside as the sun is just starting to dip below the horizon. You turn down the street you know Joel and Ellie live on, as you are want to do sometimes, hoping to steal a glance of Joel when you’re pretty sure he isn’t looking. He isn’t there, now, of course, but this is one of the nicer streets in Jackson, so you enjoy walking it when you have free time.

Ellie finds you and comes racing to your side. She asks about her dad and you tell her you saw him a few minutes ago, heading to the stables and that he’ll probably be home soon.

She starts telling you about a girl that she likes at school, about her classes, about everything. You laugh and smile along with her, offering advice when she asks about how to talk to the girl she has a crush on. Ellie may be less than half your age, but she’s probably your only friend in Jackson, so you always enjoy your chats.

“You should come have dinner with Joel and I sometime,” she says, and you politely decline.

“Sorry, um—I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you tell her.

“I don’t know why my dad doesn’t like you.”

“No clue,” you say back, although it’s a lie. Ellie may not know the reason, but she can sniff out a lie from a mile away. You’d like to tell her, but you don’t want to tarnish her image of you.

The telltale waft of food aroma finds your nostrils and you let her know that the two of you should probably head to the mess hall to have dinner. You know you can’t sit with her, though. Joel would never abide by it.

“Sure,” she says. “But let me go get my jacket real quick. Gettin’ kinda fuckin’ cold out here.”

You tell her you’ll meet her there.

As she turns to leave, you tuck your hands into your jeans pockets and begin walking towards the mess hall. It is getting a bit chilly, so you increase your pace to brisk; the only sound you hear are your heavy footfalls against earth.

You veer to take a shortcut around the back, down an unlit alley way, not really looking where you’re going because you’ve already memorized the route. The enticing aroma of food draws nearer, and you can’t wait to quell the hunger pangs you’re feeling after having worked a long day tending to the horses.

You’re so oblivious to your surroundings that you don’t notice the shape in the dark until a large, vice-like hand is swallowing your arm in its grip, and you try to yelp, but a second hand claps over your mouth before you can, and a body—large, firm, broad—is pushing you up against a wall.

“Thought I told you not t’talk to my daughter,” you hear a voice say, and you don’t need to confirm who it is before your eyes have a chance to adjust to the dim lighting: it’s Joel.

He smells like sweat and blood and woods. You notice a spray of crimson on his flannel, bits of it flecked on his face. He lowers his hand away from your mouth and pierces your soul with his obsidian eyes.

“Maybe tell her to stay away from me, then,” you snap back. Joel’s front is still pressed firmly against you. It’s enough to make you want to rub up against him like a cat in heat.

“Already have,” he responds. “Didn’t work, obviously.”

“What did you tell her about me?” you ask.

“Nothin’ she wouldn’t have been able to work out on her own,” he replies. “She’s a smart kid.”

You swallow. So she knows about Diana. You aren’t sure if they were close, but the thought hurts you all the same.

“She is,” you agree.

You try to untangle yourself from his grasp, but he holds true. A soft growl escapes from his throat.

“Need to go. Dinner time.”

“Not ‘til I’m done with you.”

“What do you want me to say, Joel? I’m sorry? I tried that. Didn’t work. So can we just move on, please? Like it or not, I’m here for a while,” you say, feeling emboldened.

He doesn’t answer you. Not right away. That same ghost of a smirk you remember from the first day returns, hooking the edges of his lips into an upward curl, and something passes over his visage, raw and hungering as he stares at you.

“I notice you lookin’ at me a lot. Got somethin’ you need to tell me?” he asks, his face inches from yours. You can feel the heat from his breath on your skin.

You shake your head at him. “N-not particularly,” you say. “Are you hurt? You’re covered in blood.”

His smirk widens and it’s the first time you’ve seen him where he isn’t glowering at you. “Ain’t mine,” he says. “Tommy and I were attacked on the road, but we fought ‘em off.”

Your eyes go wide at that. “Oh my god! Are you both okay?” you ask, true concern coloring your words. You had developed a fondness for Tommy and Maria in the weeks you’ve been living here. And Joel, of course.

“We’re fine. Other guys ain’t, though,” he replies.

You notice his grip on your arm hasn’t relented yet. You twitch under his hold.

“Can I go now?” you press.

“Told you I ain’t done with you,” he replies.

“What do you want, then?” You push against him impatiently, and he rumbles deep in his throat, the sound going straight to your core. You were already wet just from the way he has you pinned against this wall, but the sound he emits only makes it that much worse.

“Think you know what I want,” he says, his voice husky and dripping with desire. He presses his hips into yours, and you feel the hard press of his cock against your center. His hand moves to your throat. “Think you been wantin’ it, too.”

White hot heat pools in the pit of your stomach and you arch against him on instinct. He groans. “Mm. Was I right, baby?”

“Yes—yes. Joel. Fuck.”

“Been wantin’ it since that first day, haven’t you? Could tell by the sounds you made when I grabbed you. And now you walk around here like—like some saint. Like some goddamn angel. Like nothing ever happened.”

His hand squeezes tighter around your throat.

“Answer me,” he commands.

“Y-yes. Yes.”

“Good girl,” he says, unbuckling your pants. “Now turn around.”

You do as he asks without question because it’s Joel and he commands that type of respect. Because you’ve wanted this. Dreamt about it every night with your hand between your legs.

You feel him crouch behind you and his hands move to your hips, thick fingers hooking into your jeans and underwear to yank them down your legs in a single motion, leaving you exposed.

His hands swim up your backside, cupping you, squeezing your ass into his heavy palms. Your skin prickles against his touch, against the cold air.

“Mm. Now bend over f’me, pretty girl,” he says. “Show me that pussy you been wantin’ to get filled.”

You whimper at that, and bend as far as you can without falling over, spreading for him. You’re already drenched, your slick running down your inner thighs.

You thought Joel hated your guts, wanted to kill you, and now here you are pressed against a wall, pants around your ankles, with him at your back.

He might still hate you, though.

He bends forward, mere inches from your leaking, throbbing sex, squeezing your hips together under his hands to get you to clench in front of him, which you do.

“Mm. Such a pretty fucking cunt. This all for me?” he asks.

“Y-yes, Joel,” you say.

He says nothing further, pulling you against his face so he can take your cunt into his mouth, tongue lashing out at your seam, licking a slow stripe from your clit to your opening. You buck into him and moan, pushing against the flat of his tongue.

He pulls away a second later, and you whine at the loss of his tongue. “That feel good, baby?” he growls, his voice thick with sin.

“Y-yes, fuck. Yes.”

He grins, but you can’t see it. Then he’s pushing back into you, tongue penetrating your hole, drinking you slowly, one hand coming around to stroke your clit under the pad of his finger. You can’t stop the way your hips buck, the way your legs tremble as he makes you feel good in every way you don’t deserve, least of all from him.

He rumbles into your core from all the sweet noises you’re making for him, for Joel, your hands scrabbling for purchase against the wall.

He turns you now, your back to the wall, spreading your pussy with one hand while the other dips a finger into you. You can see his knuckles, raw, swollen and cracked, as his teeth graze your clit. The sight of it makes you moan and roll forward, slipping your fingers into his soft, dark curls for grip.

He buries himself all the way to the last knuckle, finger crooking to hit the sensitive spongy spot at the back of your tunnel, and when you make more sounds of approval for him, he sinks another finger in.

“You like that, angel?” he asks, lips brushing your core. You make some kind of inaudible noise in response, urging him to continue.

A smile splays his lips, his gaze drunk and sparkling with lust. He fucks into you with his fingers, sucking and nibbling at your clit, and you’re impervious to stop the way your legs shake against him, already so close to falling apart.

“Oh god, Joel—“

He increases his speed, fingers somehow achieving that perfect angle each time, his mouth doing all sorts of delicious things to your throbbing clit.

“Fuck, I’m about to come—“

He makes another deep noise against you and that’s enough to send you over the edge, the orgasm tearing through you without relent as you grind shamelessly against his face. He rides out your orgasm until he feels you’ve had enough, moving away, remaining on his knees before you.

He grabs your arm and pulls you down to his level, fisting a handful of your hair, guiding your mouth to his lips still slick with your cum, tasting yourself there, which sends more fire straight to your core. He licks at the inside of your mouth, kissing you with urgency, hungering.

“On all fours,” he commands, his words drenched in a heavy growl, and you oblige him.

You hear the metallic zzzzt of a zipper behind you, followed by the shuffling of fabric as he works his jeans and boxers down his legs.

You can’t help but crane your neck over your shoulder to look, to see him—you’ve been wondering all this time what he looks like—and you aren’t at all surprised to see the heft and girth of it, a monster between his legs, weeping precum for you.

He notices you watching and shoves you forward again.

“Turn around,” he says, lowly.

He grips himself at the base and glides the head of his cock through you, gathering your slick, before notching himself at your opening.

“You ready, pretty girl? Think you can handle this cock?”

“I know I can,” you reply with a whimper.

“Know you can, too,” he agrees.

He lines his hips up with yours and presses into you, slowly stretching you, and you gasp at the way he splits you open, an aching and delicious sting. He sinks himself to the hilt and holds there a moment, pulling back out just as slowly, and then slapping his hips roughly forward again to plunge himself deep inside of you in one blinding go.

You cry out at the intrusion, and you feel a broad hand circle your throat. “Shut up,” he grits between clenched teeth. “Gonna— mmm— gonna get us caught.”

He begins to pump into you steadily, keeping one hand to your throat, the other planted firmly on your hip. You’ve never had anyone fill you up like this before, each thrust bumping your g-spot, making you whimper for him.

“Makin’ such pretty noises f’me,” he drawls. “Such a good girl.”

He thrusts into you, every motion of his body as he slams into you from behind accentuated with his own ragged breaths and grunts, his finger tips digging into your skin, marking you. Claiming you.

You want to be claimed by Joel Miller. Owned by him. You want people to give you the respect Joel receives simply because you belong to HIM. God, you’ve wanted this since day one, but were too scared to even talk to him.

As your noises grow louder and more dizzying with every thrust, the hand on your throat tightens that much more, making you delirious with pleasure. His grip is firm, unyielding, yet he knows what he’s doing, how much pressure to use, how to read your body for signs that it’s too much.

His fucking is so angry and so primal, but he’s still giving you exactly what you want, and you aren’t sure how you’ll ever be able to recover from this. How you’ll be able to stumble into the mess hall after this, delirious and completely fucked out, to sit down by your lonesome and pretend Joel Miller didn’t just fuck your senses straight out of you.

“You’re doing so good, baby, takin’ this cock so well. Takin’ everything I can give you,” he groans.

You can barely breathe anymore, the anger and power of his thrusts removing all the air from your lungs. His hand moves from your throat to the tangle of your hair, tipping your head back with his fist. Your noises are loud and erratic now, and he no longer seems to care.

“Gonna come again f’me, baby? On this cock?” he growls darkly.

“—y-yes, Joel, god, yes…” you manage to spit out, your vision going blurry.

If it’s even possible, the way he slams into you becomes even harder, quicker, angrier, and a sound unlike any you’ve heard yourself make before claws its way out of your lungs. You come again, euphoria crashing through you like a freight train, like a drugged out high; your walls clenching down around his length, every ripple of muscle sucking him even deeper, hitting that sweet spot to prolong your orgasm as long as you can.

“That’s it. That’s it, angel. Come for me as you take this cock,” he growls. “Like a good fucking girl—“

A guttural roar bubbles up from Joel’s chest, his ruts stalling harshly as he rams as hard as he can into your pulsing cunt once, twice, then pulling out at the last second to spray hot, thick ropes of ejaculate across your bare ass.

He lets you go, sinking back onto his calves, and you fall to the ground beneath you, panting and still shaking from the release you were just gifted.

“You okay?” Joel asks, placing a shaky hand on your leg.

“Better than okay,” you reply, burying your face in the crook of your elbow. Laughing. Your pulse is drumming hot between your ears, but you think you hear him laugh, too. The first time you ever have. It’s like music to your ears.

He zips himself back up and cleans the spend on your back with a handkerchief. After a moment for you to collectively gather yourselves, he helps you to your feet. Even helps you unfurl your clothes and fix your hair.

“C’mon,” he says in that velvety smooth southern drawl. “Let’s go have dinner, if anythin’s left by now.”

You laugh, smiling, trying to regain your composure as you follow Joel to the mess hall. Together.

[floralembarrassment]

Decisions (1/1) (jegulus)

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Maybe," Regulus repeats with more certainty. Though the only thing he is certain about is that he is uncertain. He watches James process that response, and he goes somewhere in his mind that Regulus just can't seem to reach. It ties a knot in his stomach.

Anxiously he worries his bottom lip between his teeth, "is that alright?" Regulus questions after a moment.

James eyes find his and he comes back to him. Before he is even talking Regulus feels his lungs expand with ease again.

"Love of course that's alright. We're not going to do anything you're not sure you want to do, I'd never pressure you like that," James says comfortingly. He takes a step forward and presses a kiss to Regulus' hair.

"Do you want to talk through it?" James offers.

"Really?" Regulus says with bright eyes.

"Well clearly this is a tough decision and I want you to not only be sure but happy also," James explains easily.

"I know everyone does it, this shouldn't be so hard." Regulus sighs.

"Okay, so obviously I like the green and you like the red so I think those have to cancel each other out. I think I like the blue next best but it's kinda like are we pressuring him then the be like blue is for boys? What if he tells us he's not a boy and then wants the blue? But we can't do beige because I'm not having some oatmeal child, and honestly like the yellows and oranges are too much for a nursery." Regulus says, seemingly all in one breath and also basically vetoing every colour they picked.

James runs a tired hand through his hair, because he also can't decide and never thought he would be so stressed about painting walls. "What if we did white-"

"White James? No didn't you read that book I gave you? Kids need colours to be stimulated, it's good for brain development," Regulus says throwing his hands about as he spoke and then letting them flop down at his side.

James takes a deep breath and smiles at Regulus fondly. He puts his hands on Regulus' shoulders, "Reg I wasn't finished. What if we do white, Let me get there, and then paint planets and stars along the walls and ceiling?"

Regulus receives that offer, breaths it in and falls forward into James' chest. James can feel the smile spreading across Regulus' face. "That's perfect," he whispered into the fabric of James' jacket.

"We could probably ask Sirius to paint it too, or just help if you want," James adds. Another brilliant idea if does say so himself. He never fancied painting but the new room did need some sprucing.

"I'll call him right now and see what colours he'll need!" Regulus nearly jumps for joy as he pulls out his phone.

And James watches happily as his best friend and husband talk animatedly on the phone about painting what he just heard Sirius call "the mural." He takes his time to be grateful for this moment and that his soon-to-be son will just be surrounded by so much love, that and he already is.

[mysticdoodlez]

interlude: MADE BREATH and SKIN

Watcher Noah Sebastian x oc (Taylor)

Word Count: 2.7k+

A/n: so up to around chapter six, I was up in the air over whether Taylor would a) start a relationship, and b) go with Nick or Noah. The interlude was bare bones until Taylor made up their mind, but I always had in my drafts a version where they went with Noah. Some talks on the discord happened and I just went "fuck it we ball" and I expanded the draft to a full-blown one-shot. Also: I KNOW ANTLERS AREN'T SENSITIVE LIKE THAT, BUT HE'S A DEER GOD. THE RULES DON'T APPLY TO HIM.

In other news, I tried to write without limitations like last time, cuz non-binary folk who are okay with their body parts and being called "good AGAB" exist out there too, people! So, if mentions of female body parts or female terminology shuts you down, then this won't be for you.

Cw: language, supernatural themes, sexy stuff: oral (oc receiving), slight monster fucking (monster, demi-deity, whatev), pet play if you squint, unwrapped p in v (be safe, kiddos), telepathic dirty-talk

“I don't need to be babysat. Like they're gonna try to break into my house and kidnap me,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Well, too bad. Like I have anything better to do than babysit you,” Noah said, shedding his leather jacket he had over his hoodie. I could hear the playful undertone in his voice, thankfully. And to be honest, I was kind of glad he was here.

“Need help?” I commented as he pulled his hoodie up.

“Nope,” he said, lifting it up above his head. I mainly watched just to see how he could manage to get it over the antlers that were sprouting from the sides of his head, but I would be lying if I said I didn't sneak a peek at the part of his stomach as his shirt rode up. “Jeez, do you have to keep this place like a sauna in here?”

“It's not even seventy degrees in here,” I said, trying to avoid staring too long after he managed to get the hoodie off, but I still couldn’t get over the fact that he was actually that… big under all that clothing. He was now down to just a cut-off tank, leaving all the binding sigils that ran up and down his arms and across his collarbones and shoulders on display. Honestly, combined with the muscles, it made me want to punch him.

But still, after a while, my eyes were drawn back up to the antlers. While not as wide and impressive as the last time I saw them, they still seemed to make him seem taller and bigger than he already was.

“My eyes are down here.”

His words snapped me out of my reverie before he flipped down onto the couch beside me. “What're we watching?” he asked. When I looked down into his eyes, with his face drawn up into a smirk, I was almost taken aback when I noticed the smattering of freckles under them. The Lost Boy Who Would Become King.

“Does it hurt?” I blurted out.

“Does what hurt?” Noah asked.

“The antlers… when they grow out. Do they hurt?” I clarified, curiosity getting the better of me.

He blinked. “N-no?” he replied awkwardly, like no one had bothered to ask that question of him before. “Mostly they’re just sensitive until they reach their full point. Kinda itchy, too.” His thigh bumped against mine.

“Has anyone touched them?” I asked.

“No, usually people are too busy screaming ‘Ah, don’t kill me’ if I get—“ I cut him off with a backhand to the chest. “What? It's true!”

“I meant like Nick and the others,” I huffed, leaning back.

“Nah, they're not stupid enough to–” Noah said, but then stopped dead when I pressed my thumb against one of the points.

“Shit, I’m sorry, did I hurt—“ I stammered, pulling my hand away until I noticed his eyes. They seemed to pin me to where I was sitting.

“No, you’re fine, it's just…” Noah swallowed thickly, “I didn’t expect it to feel like… that.”

“Like wha…?” I trailed off as I realized what he meant. Oh.

My hand, which was still hovering near his head, fell back down to his antlers. Curiosity getting the better of me, I traced a light line from where they met his skull up to one of the first points. He shuddered under my touch, a small moan slipping out.

“Stop that,” he gritted out.

“Stop what?” I asked. I meant for it to be an honest question, but I didn't think he took it to be like that. Especially when his hand shot up and snatched my wrist away from his head.

“Stop teasing,” he said with a low rumble, dipping his head down to where he was eye level with me. My heart stopped when I saw how dark his eyes were.

I felt his other hand snake around my waist, pulling me closer to him. As ironic as the comparison was, I felt like a deer caught in the headlights. “Is that why you asked about them? So you could see me like this?” he asked. I was practically on his lap at this point, my knees straddling his thighs. He dipped his head lower to nuzzle his lips against my jaw.

The movement snapped me out of my paralysis, and I finally found my voice. “Aww, is Bambi sensitive?” I cooed, reaching my free hand up to run a finger up his antlers again. He shuddered against me, breath panting and ragged, and I froze up again when I felt his dick begin to harden underneath my core.

“I said watch it,“ he growled, grabbing that hand as well. “Do you like being a tease? Touching me like that?” He pushed me onto my back, pinning my wrists to the armrest above my head. He easily was able to hold both of them with one hand, those long fingers wrapping around them as he freed a hand to roughly grab my jaw. “Touch me again, and I’ll build you up to just leave you here wet and needy.”

My eyes widened a little bit as I took in what he said. “No—“ He cut me off with a small squeeze. The little puffs of breath he let out ghosted over my ear, making me shudder in his hands. When he finally let go of my jaw, it was to only run it over the hollow of my throat and stop. He leaned down, his lips leaving light but wet kisses along my neck.

A soft whimper escaped my throat, and my legs squirmed under his. He chuckled, my only warning before he bit down on the sensitive flesh between my neck and shoulder. A sharp gasp left me, which turned into a moan when his teeth retracted to let his tongue sweep over the mark.

“I want everyone to know what’s mine, little rabbit,” he whispered. “I want them to know that you belong to the Watcher of the Woods.”

The possessive tone he used slightly pissed me off, but as he alternated between biting and soothing at my tender skin, I could barely care. That's when I realized, despite my fogged-up brain, my mouth was close to the base of his antlers. So between keening, I let out a breathy moan that I knew would hit them.

His reaction was instantaneous. He let out a loud moan against my wet skin, hips involuntarily shunting forward against mine. The straining in his jeans pressed against my covered core, earning a sharp inhale from me. I didn't know how dizzier I could get.

Noah pulled away to look me in the eyes. “Seriously, Taylor, if you want–”

“Noah, I want you, monster or not,” I panted.

For once, Noah was stunned into silence. He hovered over me, jaw slightly dropped as he took in my words. He then brought his lips down to lock with mine in a messy, heated kiss.

There was no gentleness in this kiss, and I didn't expect any. This was a man starved. He finally let go of my wrists and trailed his hands down my chest, my waist, to my hips, then trailed them back up, under my shirt this time.

His thumbs ran small, feather-light circles around my nipples. “No bra?” he asked, smirking against my lips.

“Never wear one,” I admitted.

“Good. Off,” he commanded. “I wanna look at you.” He pulled away to give me space.

Somehow I knew what he was talking about through the sex-addled white noise, and I lifted my shirt up and over my head. I flushed under his gaze that slowly raked over my body.

“I could absolutely devour you,” he admitted, leaning back down, lower this time. He ran his tongue up my sternum, up the small slope of one breast, and closed his mouth around my nipple. I keened and squirmed as he flicked the tip of his tongue over the hard peak, feeling helpless as he teased the other between his thumb and fingers.

Eventually, after both tits were given enough attention, he pulled off with a soft pop, biting into what flesh there was. He left little nips as he trailed down my tummy until he finally reached the waistband of my jeans.

“N-Noah…” I whimpered, trying to get his attention.

“Yeah…?” His eyes flicked up to mine as I gazed down my body at him.

“Please… not here,” I pleaded.

He blinked, his dark brown eyes darkening further. “You don't want me to fuck you on the couch?” he asked.

“P-please n-no.”

Suddenly, with supernatural strength, he hitched my waist over his shoulder, pulling up and taking me with him. I let out a small yelp of surprise, but soon he was taking me back to my bedroom. My world was just an upside- down view of the back of his top and ass. If I could just manage to get my arm up, I could just–

Before I could smack anything, he roughly tossed me onto the bed. He crawled up between my legs, undoing the button and zipper of my jeans. I wriggled my hips as he pulled my jeans and underwear down in one fast motion. With a groan, and without tearing his gaze from between my legs, he carelessly tossed the garments somewhere on the floor. “Fucking hell, you've been wet this whole time, haven't you?” he asked, leaning down.

“Noah–”

“Are you okay with this?” Noah asked. I stared at him in surprise, and he rolled his eyes. “I might be a monster, but I'm not that kind of a monster.”

“Fuck, of course Noah. Just fucking–” My tirade was cut off as he dove down like it was his last meal. My hips lifted off the bed in surprise, and he lifted my legs over his shoulders, wrapping his hands around my thighs and pulling them down against him.

I couldn't think of anything past the feeling of his tongue flicking over and around my clit, spearing into my pussy and then flattening as he licked long stripes up and down my slit. All I could do was grab the top of his head, tangling my fingers in his long tresses as I tried to keep myself grounded.

“Oh, God, No… ah–” was all I could manage to get out as I shook like someone possessed. His fingers dug into my thighs, the pain of his nails pressing in only adding to the pleasure. It felt like the more I reacted to him like this, the harder he worked to make me feel good.

I looked down at him to see that he was already intently staring at me. Somehow his dark eyes seemed to be bright when they met mine. I felt him smirk against my lower lips and then I heard,

YOU TASTE SO FUCKING GOOD.

Speaking into my head, hearing that praise, sent a bolt of pleasure through me that had me arching, releasing onto his tongue as I swore up to the ceiling. He lapped it up, not relaxing his movements one bit, and the overstimulation carried me into my second orgasm, my scream tearing through my throat.

THERE IT IS. THAT’S IT, GIVE IT TO ME.

He slowed down, kitten-licking me through my aftershocks, and then finally pulled away, settling me back down onto my bed. “You good?” He asked, like he didn't just completely shatter me.

Through ragged breaths that hurt my throat and my swimming vision, I nodded. Dear God, that was–

“He's not here, and by the end of tonight, I'll have you screaming my name like you worship me.” His growl sent ripples throughout my body. Noah crawled up on top of me, caging my face between his hands, and kissed me roughly. I could smell and taste myself on his lips.

“Noah, please I need you,” I managed to say between fervent kisses.

“Say my name,” he demanded.

“Noah.”

“Louder.”

“Noah–”

“Pray for me.”

“Please, Noah.”

When I opened my eyes, it was him shoving his jeans off, but what made me gasp was the sight of his antlers, now the crown of bone that I remembered. With his hair wild and tangled from my fingers, and the tattoos spread all across his now naked body, he truly looked like the forest god he was.

He perched over me, leaning down to kiss me hard enough to stoke the fire in my belly again, and trailed two fingers up and down my still-slick folds. He slowly pushed them into my hole, alternating between curling, scissoring, and pulling them out before repeating the cycle. I was a moaning, whimpering mess that could barely talk when I realized that he was lining himself up.

“N-Noah, f-fuck… please,” I near sobbed.

“Shhh, I've got you,” he said quietly, gently brushing some damp hairs off my forehead. He then slowly, tortuously, pushed in, making me cry out in pain and pleasure.

“Ohh god, Noah, a-ah!” I said. “'s n-not gonna f-fit.”

“Yes it will,” he rasped. I was so glad that he too was having a rough time handling me like I was handling him. “I know you can do it.” He then pulled my legs up and hitched them around his waist, nearly folding me in half. With a few more shallow thrusts, he finally bottomed out, hitting a spot in me that turned my moans to something primal.

“There we go, good job. I told you you could do it,” he muttered, kissing the bridge of my nose. The feeling of me clenching on his cock had him groan, a sound that seemed like it came from somewhere deep inside him. “You ready?”

“Y-yes, Noah.”

His pace was steady at first, torturously slow. I rolled my hips to meet his, and his hands flew down to them to encourage the movement. “Go on… Take what you need,” he said, voice hitching at the end. I reached up to wrap my arms around his wide back, feeling the muscles flexing underneath my hands. His forehead dropped to mine and our lips brushed together in unison.

FUCK, IT’S LIKE YOU WERE MADE FOR ME,

he said, a hand reaching up to cup my cheek, tilting my face so our lips could finally press against each others,

MY LITTLE RABBIT.

Noah, I’m gonna - I’m gonna… I was desperately close, and his pace just kept getting hastier. I knew I was about to topple over the edge, and Noah was going to push me over with no remorse.

LET GO,

he said,

I’M RIGHT BEHIND YOU.

When I opened my eyes, I saw his big doe eyes focused on me. I couldn’t hold it anymore, and I screamed his name as my head rolled back against my pillow. I swore I nearly blacked out, or at least the edges of my vision turned black, as my vision blurred. I felt my sweat-slick skin press against his as my back arched completely off the bed.

Noah chased his own release a little bit later, thrusting into me while growling something that might’ve been words in the other tongue, or just gibberish. Soon after, his hips stilled, and his body sagged onto me, the weight and warmth being welcome.

We lied there, chests heaving as we tried to catch our breath, and I found myself gently scratching at his scalp. My fingers gently brushed against the base of his antlers, and I stilled.

“You’re fine, I can’t feel anything when they’re fully grown,” Noah muttered against the skin of my neck.

“You know that, but not when they’re forming?” I asked.

“Like I said earlier, it never came up.” He chuckled airily.

We stayed like that for a while, his body like an anxiety blanket, until my body decided I needed to get up. Noah thought otherwise, as he wrapped his arms around my midsection and pulled me back against him every time I tried to leave the bed.

“Lemme up, I have to go to the bathroom and take a shower.”

“Only if I get to join you,” he said with a sly grin.

“Those things aren’t gonna fit in the shower,” I said with a momentary glance up at the antlers.

“Oh, I’ll make them fit.”

“…Gross.”

[scarlettlillies]

Hetalia- Selfoss

What's this? Lilly posting a new fic so soon after the last one? It's more likely than you think.

This was an old Nordipalooza submission from 2020 that I ended up discarding during the event. The prompt from this was 'Sweden, Iceland - Folklore'. Back when I was researching for this prompt, I ended up on a tourism website that talked about how a town called Selfoss was supposedly haunted by ghosts so I knew immediately that's where I wanted to set the story. I was having a hard time getting started though and after two incomplete drafts, I tossed them and picked a different prompt. This weekend I finally decided to finish them off.

Sweden and Iceland sadly don't have a lot of interaction but I get the feeling that Ice is most comfortable with Sweden just on the sole fact that he doesn't treat him like a child. Therefore he gets to be a bit more relaxed and not always cool and reserved like he is with the rest of the Nordics. I hope Hima expands on their relationship in a future strip.

Also, I hope I'm not the only person who headcanons both Ice and Nor as photographers! They've got some of the best places for a hobby like that. :D

If you'd prefer to read this fic on Ao3 instead, you can check it out here.

Hope you all enjoy it! Summary: During a trip to see the northern lights near the Icelandic town of Selfoss, Sweden couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was being watched.

----

No matter how much he tried, Sweden couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was being watched.

He questioned if it was all in his head. Hundreds of people, mainly avid photographers, were gathered here by the river near the town of Selfoss to catch a glimpse of the northern lights. Iceland stood across from him and didn’t seem to have a care in the world. He was too focused on setting up his equipment and running a few test shots with his camera pointed toward the skies. The boy had a good head on his shoulders. If anyone could sense if something was off, it would be him.

Yes, it was definitely all in his head. The ghost museum they had visited in Stokkseyri must have let his imagination get ahead of itself.

The show of lights slowly began and Sweden tried to keep his mind occupied by splitting his attention between the skies and his fellow Nordic. Sitting on a reddish-brown fleece blanket, Sweden felt over-dressed with his heavy navy blue peacoat and black leather gloves. After leaving the museum earlier in the day, he was struck with a chill that he couldn’t shake off. Meanwhile, Iceland was dressed lightly in a brown spring jacket with no gloves at all. Almost everyone else wore similar clothing.

“Aren’t ya cold?”

“Not at all. I’m surprised you are though. Don’t tell me you can’t handle a little cold in your old age Sví!”

Sweden rolled his eyes but the comment got the both of them chuckling. With just the two of them together, Iceland seemed more laid-back and less hesitant to hide his playful side. He’s sure Iceland doesn’t mean to, but Sweden noticed over the years that Iceland would quickly become uncomfortable and reclusive whenever Denmark and Norway (and to some degree Finland too) became overbearing with their ‘big brother’ personalities. He just wanted to be treated like an adult alongside the rest of them.

He understands that well. After all, Denmark did it to him when they were small children—despite the three of them frequently arguing over who was the oldest. Those arguments died the moment Iceland entered their lives.

So Sweden does just that. He still dotes on him—albeit more subtly than the others do. But in return, he is rewarded to hear more in-depth things about Iceland’s life. Just on this trip alone, he has heard of the late-night calls with Indonesia, the camping trip in Hiiumaa with the Baltics, and the coffee dates with Liechtenstein in Vaduz. He felt grateful that Iceland could trust him like that.

Snap. Snap. Snap.

The colours quickly grew more intense. Shades of green, blue, and purple danced across the sky and their colours reflected against the river below. Loud gasps of delight erupted from the crowd on the ground. Iceland was mesmerized by the sight. Even though he had seen this millions of times, it never failed to put his mind at ease. Any worries he had about his life would immediately wash away. With a hand placed on his left shoulder, Sweden surprised Iceland by coming up close at his side. The average person would never be able to tell, but he could see that tiny grin form on Sweden’s face. He was just as ecstatic to see the lights as he was.

“Gettin’ some good shots?”

“Yeah,” he nodded before he returned his focus to the camera. “The multicoloured lights always make the best shots.”

Sweden tucked his hands into his coat pockets. He watched him work and noted how meticulous Iceland was with each shot. Seeing him like this reminded him so much of Norway, right down to the focused but elated expressions. Norway was also a photographer who loved to shoot landscapes just like him. But Sweden would never dare say that out loud. Iceland would quickly get annoyed whenever comparisons arose between him and his brother, even as a joke.

We’re nothing alike. Don’t say dumb things like that.

He kept his comments to himself and continued staring up at the skies. He didn’t need to ruin the perfect day they’d had together.

The lights had lasted for around twenty minutes when dark clouds began rolling through. Everyone in the crowd knew it was their sign to call it a night. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. The camera Iceland had been using throughout their trip had begun flashing a warning that the battery was running low. Sweden helped him pack his equipment and get the bags into Iceland’s trunk. The blanket Sweden used earlier remained unfolded and got tossed into the backseat. With everything packed, they were ready for the hour’s drive back to Reykjavík.

But there it was again. That feeling that someone was watching. Sweden was so certain about it.

“What’s wrong?” Iceland asked. Sweden was leaning against the open passenger door as he searched around the pitch-black landscape. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, just that it was something.

“We’re bein’ watched…”

“Huh? From what?”

“Dunno but—”

Laughter.

A child’s laughter.

It was such a high-pitched noise that rang inside his ears. He hated that he couldn’t see where it was coming from. There were no streetlights in this part of the country. The only light visible came from the inside of Iceland’s car and the headlights of others as many began driving away from the scene and onto the main road.

Sweden’s frustrations hit a boiling point. He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a black flashlight. He slowly made his way toward the river. Iceland tried to call him back however Sweden ignored his pleas. A frustrated sigh fell from his lips, “I'm never taking you to that ghost museum ever again,” He had no choice but to follow behind him.

Sweden hadn’t noticed earlier that the water was much lower than he had anticipated. Boulders of various shapes and sizes poked through the water, especially along the shoreline. He swung his flashlight around and didn't see anything out of the ordinary. The mysterious sounds of laughter from before had also disappeared. Was it his mind playing tricks on him again?

“Did ya happen to hear a child laughin’ earlier?”

“A child?” Iceland pondered, “The crowd was mostly full of photographers but I’m sure I saw a few families with small kids there. Maybe it was that you were hearing?”

Sweden made a disgruntled grunt as he appeared furious with himself. He hated how out of character this was for him. He could never recall a moment in time when he acted this paranoid before.

But on the furthest rock to his left, his flashlight picked up something stuck against one of the boulders. The two men investigated and discovered it was a small grey blanket. They had wondered if it was forgotten by one of the families from earlier. Upon closer inspection though, they noticed it was covered in mud, the material looked faded, and the bottom tip of the blanket had been submerged into the water. It was clear it had been here for some time.

“Sví, we should go. There’s no one here,” Iceland said as he tugged on Sweden’s arm. “We have a long drive ahead of us.”

It looked as if Sweden had finally come to his senses and the two men walked back to the car. But Iceland took one more look over his shoulder. Near the river, a small child stood there in a white gown. A short blond boy, possibly no older than three, hugged the dirty grey blanket that Sweden discovered earlier. Iceland put a finger to his lips and shook his head. The little boy’s smile turned to an angry frown and disappeared towards the water.

Iceland was open to sharing many things about his life with Sweden. But the stories of the spirits that inhabited this part of his home were not one of them. No one needed to know he could see things that mortals could not. He was determined to keep it that way.

[p5x-theories]

Since you talked about the phantom thieves already, what do you think of their personas and their designs and aesthetic and who well do you think they match up visually to their respective phantom thief?

(In reference to this post)

I'm flattered you actually want to hear more of my design opinions, hehe! Sure, I can talk about the Personas too.

TLDR here is that once again I do just think they're all neat overall! There's fun stuff going on with all of them, and I enjoy the details put into them, even if sometimes maybe there's a few details I'd change slightly to make the designs that extra bit more coherent.

Also, I'm probably not going to really get into how well I think they fit the historical/mythological figure they represent, because I feel that's less the point of Personas (as opposed to sort of... representing that figure through the Persona user's vibe/aesthetic/will of rebellion, if that makes sense, haha?), and also because I'm unfamiliar with nearly all of these figures so I'd have to do a bunch of extra research to even try to get into that aspect, to be honest.

Let's see if Tumblr actually keeps my formatting this time...

Starting with Janosik!

Overall, I kinda like him! He has an extremely distinct design, even besides his predominantly white palette that's uncommon in P5, haha. His head... hat... thing? Is a little weird, but it's weird in a way that I kind of like, because it makes his head stand out from the Personas with more human faces. He feels humanoid, but not human, which is a good middle ground for Personas to be in, I think? I also really like the jacket off his shoulders, and the way the red inner lining of it makes his white legs stand out even more. And his little braids are a fun detail.

His torso and upper legs are... okay, I'll admit, not quite completely sure what's supposed to be going on with all those details. But it at least feels like a "not quite sure what's going on here" that's familiar to the Persona series, if that makes sense? So it's fine, I guess. He feels like he belongs in this series.

As for how he matches up with Wonder... honestly, he feels like the Persona, across all the Phantom Thieves in the various P5 games, that matches up with his respective Phantom Thief the least, to me. He and Wonder really only share the red- Janosik has whites and golds while Wonder has blacks and silvers- and I guess maybe you could argue their weird foot/shoe shapes, haha. While Cendrillon (Violet) and Pandora (Sophie) also don't directly resemble their thieves much, in both their cases I feel like they differ in ways that say something about the thief in question, whereas I'm sort of hard-pressed to figure out what the visual difference between Janosik and Wonder says about Wonder. Maybe that'll be more obvious once we know more of P5X's plot, and then I'll feel differently?

All that to say, I like their designs independently of each other, and at least they (somehow) don't feel like they actively clash when they're next to each other, but they don't really feel like a matched pair at all, which is a shame.

Awilda!

I actually really like Awilda's design- she may be one of my favorites in P5X! The sharklike hood/cloak thing is so distinct both as a clothing article and for Awilda's silhouette, and it's easily my favorite part, but I also like that the rest of her outfit feels loosely piratey without going so far as to seem like it's encroaching on Captain Kidd's territory in my mind.

I'm not entirely sold on the hat... thing? And ponytail? That she has going on, but I don't think they actively detract from her design as a whole, and that one might just be personal taste.

As for how she fits with Closer, I think Awilda's a good example of a Persona that doesn't feel quite identical in vibe to her thief, but doesn't look out of place with her, either. Awilda seems a bit less athletic and a bit more refined (or professional?) than Closer does, but her color scheme feels like it was expanded from Closer's (the blue coming from Closer's eyes, and the white from her hood's drawstrings), so there's a sort of unity between them anyway. They could maybe be a bit closer (hehe), but it does work as-is, I think.

Rob Roy!

Mechs aren't really my thing, but I do like how Rob Roy feels relatively unified even for all the individual parts. I like his weird talon feet, because they sort of tie him back into being a bird's Persona even if nothing else about him really registers as "bird" for me. I guess the black part on the top of his head maybe is intended to be reminiscent of Cattle's feather tuft things, as well?

I do get a vague samurai sort of vibe to him, with the head shape loosely reminding me of a samurai helmet, and the pattern on his upper legs reminding me a bit of that style of armor? But I also think that kind of helps me process what's going on with his design overall (makes it a bit easier to pick out the broader strokes of what's going on, rather than getting caught up in the details), so I don't think that's strictly an issue.

His color palette does a nice job tying him to Cattle without feeling like a complete mirror of how the colors are balanced in Cattle's design, which really helps in immediately identifying him as Cattle's Persona. The white face, with the red piece kind of mimicking the point of Cattle's beak in between his eyes, adds to that. Aesthetically, I'm not sure he directly connects to Cattle? But the fact that he's a mech, and Cattle's a little guy, sort of makes my brain fill him in as resembling a big toy to Cattle's little kid vibe, as much as I don't think Cattle would appreciate that description, haha, so I think they work together all the same.

Mandrin! (Switching to game screenshots now because the datamined Persona transparents have weird lighting and are rarely full body, haha)

Mandrin's a little funny to me because the single pop of blue is such a thief color design thing for them to do, and yet he's a Persona. But that aside, I like the hat + coat + glove combination he has going on! Those, with the noose, make him feel like a dangerous outlaw, which is befitting of a Phantom Thief's Persona. The sharp teeth pattern, which feels sort of like a mask he's wearing but also sort of like it's just his face, also helps him from feeling completely human, so that's a nice touch.

The spiked cuff on his right hand (which isn't super visible in either image I have here, hah) does feel just a little out of place to me, especially because his design (minus the weapon, hat brim, and a few little details) is very symmetrical otherwise, but it's also not something you really notice unless you're looking for it, so I think it gets a pass. The lightness of his upper legs, though, is a little weird- he's wearing some kind of pants or extremely tall boots, and the tops of those being lighter than most of the rest of his design brings a weird sort of focus to them? It's, again, not disastrous, and at least it doesn't feel like the color itself is out of place on him, it's just a bit odd because if you squint your eyes to see what stands out the most, the impression is that his teeth, noose, and upper legs are being framed by the darker jacket.

Alongside Soy, his shirtlessness at least seems to sort of "explain" the strange thing going on with Soy's top a bit (as I mentioned in the other post, haha). They go together quite well, with similar but not completely identical vibes and color schemes, though because they're so similar it could be argued that it draws more attention to some of the parts of Soy's design that don't match Mandrin (ex. the icy blue gloves that stand out more than Mandrin's black glove, the blue chest that stands out more than Mandrin's dark grey chest, etc.) and therefore could be a bit detrimental to the impression the two of them give off together. But they do go together, and you'd immediately be able to guess that Mandrin goes with Soy if you saw a lineup of all the Personas, so I think they really fulfill that aspect at least.

Prosymna!

Prosymna's design is another one I really like. The weird, slightly alien arms and hands immediately make you think Psi, and there's a sort of fishy aspect to the pattern on her headdress, scales on some of the silver metal, and flowy lower dress that really appeals to me. The harp strings also feel really well-integrated in her design, adding to the strange/alienness of it while still being recognizable as a harp.

It could be said that there's a little too much going on with her, especially around her head and lower torso, but I think overall her body underneath is readable enough that you don't get totally lost on what's going on with her. You can still pick up the sort of alien harp fish lady thing that's going on, and process her pose without too much trouble.

Her and Kotomo's color schemes go together, so she has that. I'll admit, I'm not sure why Prosymna has the alien/fish/harp thing going on when none of those seem to really be reflected by Kotomo? I assume some of it must tie into Prosymna's mythology, but it does make them feel a little aesthetically mismatched, even if the color scheme saves it in the end. They look like they go together until you start inspecting what's going on with Prosymna a bit more closely, so she can sort of sneak by, even if that could have been tied together a little better.

Cleodora!

I like the very regal, kind of "queen bee" vibe that Cleodora has going on. I also think it's funny that the massive base she has reminds me a bit of those spinning fairy toys (if you're not familiar, google that phrase and you should see what I mean, haha), but is probably more intended to be Okyann's dance stage. She coveys a royalty vibe very clearly, and I don't really have any notes on anything about her that I actually dislike!

At least, in and of herself. Admittedly, the fluffy collar, and face, do remind me just a little of Terpsichore, but they're so visually distinct otherwise that I'm not sure it's really that much of an issue, and honestly may just be me haha.

Persona-wise, I do have to admit that her vibe doesn't really go with Okyann's outfit or demeanor? I guess there's almost loosely a connection that my brain wants to make between a sort of "queen bee"/popular girl and a gyaru, but I'm not sure that really exists or that I can actually articulate it really, so it feels more like a disconnect than anything. Her colors work fine, even with the added touches of blue, but Okyann feels more like a late 90s/early 2000s pop star, befitting of her gyaru theme, whereas Cleodora... does not. I guess maybe it could tie into some aspect of Kayo's personality we haven't really seen as much yet, but at least from the surface level, it is a little dissonant. If she were still regal, but toned down a bit/otherwise reflected Okyann's outfit a bit more, I think that'd solve it?

Syke!

I'll admit, hands down my favorite thing about him is that he has a book like we see Kii with in his AOA (and also as a confidant). Not the exact same book, but it doesn't need to be- it's just cute to me that that's reflected so directly by his Persona. Anyway, that aside, the flaming tree situation Syke has going on is honestly pretty fun. He sort of feels like if a tree's leaves were consumed by flames, and then that tree, still on fire, got turned into a guy? It's a silly way to describe him, but that's kind of the impression I get from him, even as he looks like sort of a serious guy, haha. I really like the orange cloth trailing off his shoulders, because it kind of contributes to the "flame" impression without literally adding more fire (which would start to get excessive, if they had added more fire).

I'm not sure I really have any notes on him? Maybe that the boots being white sort of pulls attention away from his upper half a bit, but that feels like it reflects Kii's outfit enough that I'm willing to excuse it.

As for how well he goes with Kii- even aside from the book thing, he's an interesting one, because he's actually a lot more colorful than Kii himself, with the kind of stained glass look he has going on, but it works, because it supports the exorcist/priest thing that Kii has going on in the first place. It feels like it adds more context to Kii's outfit when Syke stands behind him, which is what Personas are doing about 95% of the time, so it honestly really works even if their aesthetics aren't quite identical. Syke feels like his aesthetic complements Kii's, rather than strictly reflecting it, which I think is part of why I like him so much!

Erytheia! (Or Ekedena in the files- still not 100% sure what's the right translation, but that's neither here nor there right now haha)

I like what he has going on! To the point where, if I'm being completely honest... I actually think he pulls off the vibe Leo's supposed to be going for better than Leo's outfit itself does, haha? It's very asymmetrical, but it doesn't feel too complicated or unbalanced, and honestly even the green belt kind of works because it feels like it's more a combination of the blues and yellows (rather than just a random chunk of green in a sea of dark colors) because of the patterns that Erytheia has.

Of course, I don't think literally recreating Erytheia's outfit would be the right call for Leo's outfit, haha. It's a bit more gladiator/Greek mythology than I think would be suited for Leo himself, but I think it really conveys the concepts and vibe overall in a more effective manner.

Which is to say- I think Erytheia actually goes very well with Leo! Similar color schemes and patterns, but a level of distinction between them, makes them feel very much like a pair that goes together without being literal twins. If Leo's outfit were a bit more cohesive, I think Erytheia would fit in perfectly as a slightly more historical hero, while Leo would look like a modern hero. As it is, like I said earlier, I think Erytheia currently conveys the goal of Leo's outfit better than Leo does, haha.

Meng Po!

I think my favorite parts of her design are the huge shoulder armor things, how those woven-looking strips wrap around her, and of course, the way her skirt attaches (?) to her torso, because it sort of makes it look like her skirt's another bowl of soup that she's sitting in, just a little. Admittedly it's a little silly to describe it like that, but that's honestly what I enjoy about it.

I do think there's a little too much going on in the way of colors with her. Just blue or just green would've been enough (maybe combine them into a single teal instead, even?), but as it is there's sort of a weird conflict of attention between the various blue and green bits that feels just a little disorganized, and a little too much when set alongside all the red on her design. The blue in her bowl, of the tassels, and in the lantern (?) pulls my attention around like competing magnets, and away from her face, while the green bits are all roughly the same shape and kind of in a line going from her face to her mid-torso to the end of her skirt, so my eyes kind of zigzag across her rather than processing what's actually going on.

These two aspects may just be my personal preference, but the way the woven strips attach to her head, and the lack of anything else immediately around or above the top of her head, do also make her look a bit bald, and I'm not a huge fan of those red things around her eyes and the way they curl at the ends, either.

As far as fittingness for Rin, I think the overall red-white-black-gold works, and even (if adjusted) the blue/green could work, because it gives a somewhat more embellished/ethereal look to Meng Po which works for her as a Persona and goddess. As it is, the blues and green are a little much to have both of behind Rin, but I think if those were adjusted like I was talking about above then it'd solve that.

While (that aside) her look works with Rin's, though, I think her demeanor seems just a bit too peaceful for how energetic Rin is? Personas do tend to look a bit more serious/detached/etc. compared to their users, throughout the series, but Meng Po looks very happily poised and calm in a way that even knowing that does still strike me as a bit odd in comparison to Rin. Or, in other words, Meng Po's design fits Rin, but her attitude sort of makes me start to wonder what it is about Meng Po that actually makes her represent Rin, as opposed to seeing Meng Po is Rin's Persona and going "Oh, okay, the fact that they're a little different expands my understanding of Rin as a character!" Though, again, maybe I'll understand that better once we get to know Rin as a confidant?

Terpsichore!

I feel like I like aspects of Terpsichore more than the overall look. The dark hat and mask make her golden eyes pop very nicely, and make her feel just slightly menacing and otherworldly (which is always a good vibe for a Persona design, if you ask me, haha). I also like the icy cloak/cape and tutu-like thing going on around her waist, because they really sell the winter vibe she has, befitting of an Ice Persona belonging to an ice skater. And the ice skates she has, themselves, are a nice touch.

I do, however, feel like there's a bit of a disconnect between the head + hat and the rest of the outfit? The extremely top-heavy hat, which I love on its own, doesn't seem suited to the more delicate, literally ice crystal skater that her frilly skirt and lower body seems to convey. This might actually be as easy a fix as making her cloak also a dark color like her hat, and possibly the ice skate boots as well? Spreading that around would put less of that heavy emphasis on her head alone, though if they wanted her to look like a light, delicate ice skater, then it probably would've been better to forego the hat entirely (which would be a shame, because I love it). She also has, like, a lot going on on her lower legs out of nowhere? There's some blue lines that trail down from her tutu, and a white fuzzy thing at the top of what appears to be fishnet over that, and then a dark blue... something past that, which ends in a different white fuzzy cuff at the top of her ankle boot ice skates. I think maybe simplifying that area a bit- probably cutting out the fishnets and the first fuzzy things at least?- would go a long way.

She does feel suited to Mont, though, in terms of vibe. It's a little bit of an easy win, I think, since going for a refined ice skater kind of vibe is of course going to mesh well with Mont, but it does work. It just... sort of makes me wish Mont has some of those fuzzy bits and/or the dark hat and mask as well, haha... But the fact that I like Terpsichore's design a little more than Mont's aside, I think it gets the job done, and they fit together without feeling identical.

Sytx!

Styx is cool. She sort of feels like some kind of clockwork soldier? Or, you know, an Anti-Shadow Weapon, which is sort of the same thing on a base level, hehe. She feels a bit like an intricate doll, but not quite so fragile as the words would imply, and there's a variety of things going on with her design but I think they go well together. The asymmetry of the white is nice without being too attention-grabbing.

Probably my biggest question is why there's that blue part on her hammer? Why isn't it that dark purple like literally everything else that isn't black, white, or that dull gold on Styx? Her hair also sort of strikes me as a bit odd, but hair color not matching the outfit is a little more normal for human characters, and it's at least still a muted color that sort of helps draw some attention to her face without drastically standing out. Why is there a random blue bit on her hammer?? Why not at least make it a brighter shade of purple than the rest of the design?? I just feel like I'm missing something??

Her connection to Yuki's aesthetic is also a little loose to me. There is a sort of dignified air and general shared color scheme (though Yuki lacks the dull gold), but I guess the clockwork/machine aspect doesn't quite mesh with Yuki's sort of twist on the Phantom of the Opera look in my mind? Admittedly I'm not super familiar with the Phantom of the Opera, and maybe it would click better for me if I was, but as much as I like Styx she's another one that feels like a bit of a disconnect from her thief to me.

And last but certainly not least, Leucothea!

I love Leucothea. Leucothea feels silly and over the top, but not to the point where I can't take him (I know the mythological figure's female, but since Seiji's a guy and it's the series standard for the teammate and Persona's genders to match, I'm going to use he/him here?) seriously as a Persona design. This may have become obvious over the course of this post but I love giant hats. I love that Leucothea's has that birdcage built into it. I LOVE the floofy feather tails. I love the gigantic white flower. It's all over the top without being too much or feeling unbalanced.

I think if I had any complaint, it'd be the tufts on the side of the shoes? The shoes in general are fine, and I think the white color works, but something about the shape just feels a bit off to me relative to the rest of the design. Maybe that it looks more like smooth wisps rather than the feathery shape of similar details on his outfit? Not sure exactly, but I guess that'd be my nitpick if anything.

As for fitting with Seiji- it feels like they got so close. Admittedly Leucothea feels more like an aristocrat while Seiji feels more like a revolutionary, but I think as stated above that that sort of distinction does work to an extent given the nature of Personas as mythological figures that come from the Sea of Souls to represent a human's true self? As much as Leucothea's a bit over the top, it's not in such a way that it feels disconnected from Seiji aesthetically.

It's really... really... just the color scheme. I don't understand why Seiji's gloves are bright blue! It could work as a nice contrast against Leucothea, but that solid, saturated blue is not the right shade to do that if that's what they were going for, and Leucothea has so much more gold/yellow/red going on, compared to Seiji's almost complete monochrome, that his gloves just jump out at you for how they don't match. If Leucothea was blue (and maybe green?) instead of the yellow + red, or if Seiji's gloves were gold, or red, or maybe even just a less saturated yellow-green, I think they'd go together much better immediately. Even straight up Wind element green gloves would make more sense at least for the element match. It seems like such an odd decision to me, for a pair that otherwise works very well, to have the colors in their otherwise monochrome outfits be so different.

-

I hope that's what you wanted! It was fun to think about how the Persona designs go with their thieves, especially since that's something you don't really get to do with the Persona games before P5 as they didn't get special outfits with them. Besides character design, I also love character analysis, though I tried not to go too deep into that here when we've only seen the first two Palaces of the game and barely know most of the teammates outside of how they function in combat, haha.

[shinshoyu]

on my bullshit lol (excerpt from a small fic i'm writing abt this)

“Describe them to me.”

Kenshi’s hand grips the back of Johnny’s arm. He can feel the texture of his jacket, a comfortably warm jacket for the warm-but-not spring. He can smell spring in the air, too, and the pollen itches his nose, but he smells deeply all the same. It smells like childhood.

“What?” He can feel Johnny turn towards him and hears his voice get louder. They keep walking through the park, and Kenshi can hear his shoes squishing cherry blossom petals.

“Describe them to me, the cherry blossoms,” Kenshi clarifies, adjusting his grip to feel the fleece smooth under his touch. Johnny lets out an ‘ah’, turning back to the path ahead. He leads Kenshi through the park, following the path many have walked. The dirt crunches below his feet, and he wonders if the path is mostly dirt or grass.

“They’re pink,” Johnny starts, and Kenshi scoffs. “What? They are!” Johnny laughs, continuing to idly lead them around. He takes a deep breath. “Give me a chance here, alright?”

Kenshi hums with a nod, a small smile on his lips. “Go on,” he encourages, and he hears Johnny take another deep breath.

“They’re pink,” he starts again, “but not regular pink. They’re a light baby pink, think like retro-80’s-diner baby pink, and they all fade to a dark violet-pink, y’know?” Johnny continues to walk, and Kenshi tries to imagine the scenery around them. “Some of the petals are white, or the, uh, the trees, there’s white ones,” he adds, “we’re kind of in a forest of them right now. The path winds through all the trees, and the trees are so thick you can’t even see the city in here.”

Johnny’s voice carries softly, joining the symphony of wind blowing between the petals. Kenshi can feel some petals brush against his pant leg as they twirl. He remembers when he was a kid, the way him and his sister would run though any cherry blossom field they could.

“There’s lush green grass stretching as far as the eye can see, or, well, at least as far as I can see into the forest,” Johnny continues to talk, and Kenshi doesn’t mind any second. “It’s brighter than the grass in America— it looks like someone zested some really large limes and spread them across the ground.”

Kenshi laughs. “What?” He asks, his laugh shaking his shoulders. He can feel his chest expand with every breath.

“I’m serious, that’s what it looks like! It looks like someone zested really large limes, that’s how bright the grass is!” Johnny laughs, defending his description. “What, can you not imagine that?”

Kenshi continues to laugh. He hums playfully, his laughter interrupting his hum. “I guess I can,” he answers, a grin on his face, “go on.”

“Okay, okay,” Johnny chuckles. “So. Lime grass. Um, the- the sky’s a bright blue, um… sky… blue. It’s like.. water on a hot day, and the clouds kinda look like seafoam. They’re piece-y and whispy, and they’re very bright white. But they’re also kinda reflecting the blue in the sky,” he sighs. “But the blossoms, um, they’re all shedding.”

“Shedding?” Kenshi asks.

“Yeah, there at tons of petals falling,” Johnny elaborates, and Kenshi hums. He moves his hand from Johnny’s arm to his shoulder, and he can feel the rise and fall of Johnny’s shoulders with every breath. “They’re kinda covering the path, it’s lucky I’ve been able to follow it for this long,” he jokes, and Kenshi can feel him look towards him, can feel Johnny’s stubble scratch his fingers.

“Really? I could follow this path and I’m blind,” Kenshi teases, and Johnny laughs.

“Maybe you should be leading us then,” he grins, and Kenshi can feel the smile forms. He wonders if Johnny would let him feel his face, to map it, even though he knows what Johnny looks like. Without the aid of Sento right now, though, he wonders if Johnny would let him.

He wonders if Johnny would let him anyway.

“Do you want to go to a cafe?” He asks instead, and he can feel Johnny hum.

“Yeah, why not?”

constantly thinking about kenshi and johnny visiting japan in the spring when all the cherry blossoms are blooming and kenshi asks johnny to describe them because he hasn't seen them in a while and and and and

[sinnerlillith]

teenage dirtbag

Summary: “I got 2 tickets to Iron Maiden baby, come with me Friday, don’t say maybe.”~ you and your boyfriend finish your record store date late at night. The van doors are open, Iron Maiden is playing, and the empty schools parking lot is in view. and thank goodness it’s empty [10k words]

Includes: van sex, pervy eddie, masochist eddie, power sub eddie, (he’s in a submissive position, but he’s in charge sometimes. so semi-switch eddie too) eddie has scars from ST4, reader smokes a cig, finger sucking (reader), briefly choking eddie, praise kink, some nipple play, some dirty talk, safe sex, slight exhibitionism, eddie being a dorky metal head

The proof that summer is ending in Hawkins shows in the cool night air. Tonight really is cooler than most nights, which is why Eddie made sure to bring an extra blanket for the van. You’re both sitting across from each other with the 2 large back doors swung wide open, letting in the crisp air and exposing the starry night sky with the yellow glow of street lamps. 

Your legs are straight, and slightly parted on top of his, one ankle on each side of his hips. His lean and black ripped jean covered legs are also parted, letting you sit between them as his back rests against the inside wall of the van. His scuffed white rebook shoes occasionally tap your sides as he rolls his ankles open and closed, side to side. He really can’t keep his whole body still at all.

The blanket stretches across both pairs of legs, while a picnic blanket is laid out underneath you both. The van smells of cigarettes and weed, and the sounds of metal guitar solos from Eddies portable radio, on his left side, fill the occasional short silence. You two have a lit up cigarette in-between your pointer and middle fingers, chipped with black nail polish.

And if you didn’t think Eddie could get any hotter while smoking something, you were very wrong. He’s even hotter when he can have a cig in his hand, paired with a well done outfit, his glittering accessories, and dark messy hair falling down his broad shoulders. 

He’s wearing a white diy cut tank top made from and old Megadeath graphic tee, underneath his leather jacket and battle vest. The neckline is cut so low that you can see all his chest tattoos clearly, and the deep line between his pectorals that his pick necklace dangles over. Every time he inhales the smoke from his cig, his chest expands into the cloth of his shirt, pressing up against it, making it look 10 times tighter than it really is.

Makes you want to drag your tongue over his chest, but instead, you just take a drag of your cig and exhale the smoke out your lips. You hear Eddie take out the new Iron Maiden cassette he just bought and flip it to the other side, closing the tape holder to his portable radio with a click.

A new tune fills the smoky night air of the van, and you listen to it closely.

“Alright, so which song is this one?” Eddie questions you, brown eyes watching your thinking face. He’s been quizzing you like some sort of gameshow host, asking you to name each song being played.

You sit and ponder, noticing the familiar lyrics and instrumental. Your face changes from thinking, to noticing, to realizing.

“Number something, uh... the beast? No- number of the... The Number of the Beast!” you finally say enthusiastically, eyes looking up to meet his with a big, confident smile on your face.

Eddie claps multiple times, flattening his lips into an excited smile and scrunching his eyebrows together. He’s careful not to drop his cigarette as he celebrates your mini victory.

Cute.

“Yes- yes! Finally! You got it,” he says excitedly, but also exhaustedly because you finally guessed right after being wrong about some other songs. “took you long enough.”

You roll your eyes at him, “It’s not my fault you’re playing songs I’m not familiar with!”

He chuckles at your argument, shaking his head a few times, hair swaying side to side with each shake. “Yeah, whatever.” He brings his cigarette up to his pink lips, circling his flattened mouth around the butt taking another drag with a smile.

He talks with smoke coming out of his mouth, “Just wait, the guitar solo is gonna come up, it’s-” he mimics the noise of an explosion, both ring adorned hands coming to the side of his curly head, gesturing his mind blowing up. His chain bracelet falls down his wrist as he brings it up next to his face, and the smoke from his cig clouds around him. 

You sit and wait. About 2 minutes later, the familiar guitar solo comes up and he’s right, it’s as intense as you remember. It only got better and better.

“Damn.” you mutter appreciatively, barely audible over the music.

Eddie turns the volume up, music sounding even louder now, and he starts doing a cute air guitar solo with the cig dangling from his lips. His head bangs and shakes around, making that long hair of his move wildly and the smoke from his cig leaks all around him, and fuck does he look hot.

A little dorky, but very hot.

His chain bracelet dangles and glimmers with every flick of his wrist on his air guitar strings. His chipped, black, painted nails, finger the pretend neck of the guitar, dancing along the air frets. 

You laugh at him, but then realize its a little too loud, and its late at night. You don’t want to draw any attention to you guys this late. The wrong person could see you both, and then the police would soon show up.

You motion for him to turn it down, and he shakes his head, taking his cig out and mouthing the word “Nope!” to you, with a dimple showing grin. He returns to his solo, shaking his hair around with his cig now in his ‘strumming’ hand.

“Stop- you dork!” you shout and giggle, failing to be serious because he’s too cute. 

“Make me, sweetheart!” he yells over the music, lifting his pretty head up to you before turning away to finish his solo.

You snuff out your cig and pull your legs off him, moving the blanket off you both. You crawl up on your hands and knees, getting to the side of him that the radio is on, bending to the right and turning the volume of his radio down. You can still hear the music, it just plays much quieter.

“Aww babe, c’mon-” he fake whines, turning his head to you and ceasing his strumming. His hands drop, falling to rest on the curve of your knees. You ignore his whine, smiling as you move your legs to the sides of his hips, spreading your thighs to straddle his knees. You sit on his lower thighs, far back from the crotch seam of his black jeans and lift your head to look at him.

“Not trying to have the police called on us, Ed.”

He shrugs a ‘fair enough’ type of shrug, and brings the hand with his cig off your knee and up to his lips, taking another drag. You watch the lit end of it burn brighter with his inhale, and die down when it’s pulled from his lips. He holds the smoke in his mouth, not letting it into his lungs yet.

His other hand lifts off your other knee, gently bringing your chin towards him as he leans his torso forward so your lips are less than centimeters away. He then blows the smoke into your parted mouth, and you start to inhale what he gives you. Your lips barely touch, ghosting over each other, but it still gives you a flutter in your stomach at the intimacy.

Your hands slide onto either side of his neck, and one sneaks to the back of his skull, resting in his frizzy hair as you finish inhaling. Then, you lift your chin to blow the smoke out above his his head, making sure his face doesn't get a load of your puff.

He looks up at you licking his lips at the sight, finding you incredibly attractive when you smoke for some reason. Bringing his head forward, his hot lips meet the warm skin of your exposed neck under your lifted chin, planting a kiss. He pulls back and your head turns down to look at him with a smile, which he silently returns.

You feel his large palm of his empty hand now grip your clothed waist. The heat from his hand is felt through your shirt.

“Come closer,” Eddie mutters, “you’re so far away.” he whines, referring to you straddling his lower thighs, rather than his hips.

You smile, deciding to tease him a bit. “But Eddie, I’m right here-”

“Oh c’mon, princess,” he tugs at your waist, attempting to pull you closer. He brings his voice down to a cliche flirty tone, “I don’t bite...” You raise an eyebrow at him. “I mean, not unless you want me to.” he corrects himself.

You scoff playfully, “Oh my god, Eddie. Whatever.”

“Ok ok, no biting.” he raises both hands in a surrender, and you slide forward. You sit on his crotch area and place your hands on his broad shoulders, over his vest and jacket. 

“I lied.” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. He giggles cute boyish giggles as he leans in and playfully bites your shoulders and neck, grabbing your waist tightly with both hands, not letting you escape. He’s still holding the cig between his fingers, careful not to burn anything as he holds your squirming body firmly in place. 

His head tosses around your frame, feeling his teeth gently nibble at you over and over. You can’t help but giggle and snort at his ridiculous way of flirting. You feel his shoulders shake, and his chest vibrates with laughter. 

But then, you feel a particular bite that has your breath hitching. He bites at the spot under your jaw and just above the column of your neck- the soft spot that always makes you react when his mouth shows it any bit of attention.

You try to bring yourself together before he can notice.

“Ok- ok! Eddie-” you say between airy laughs. You lean back, pushing his denim and leather covers shoulders forward. This stops his biting, and he licks his lips to re-moisten them after moving all over your skin. His hands still rest over your shirt, gripping your waist.

You grab both sides of his face and squish them, making his lips puff out and the eyelids of his dark brown eyes wrinkle closer together. He looks weirdly cute like this.

“Stay still.” you tell him, no hint of seriousness found in your voice at all, hands still squeezing his heated cheeks. 

He tries to speak to you, but with his mouth and cheeks all forced together, his words come out funny.

“yesh ma’am.” he says, lips unable to actually touch- earning a chuckle from you and a muffled one from him.

You release his face, smoothing your hands back to his ears, both thumbs in-front of them, while the rest of your fingers are resting on his scalp. You rub the pads of your thumbs back and forth on his face as he brings his cig up to his mouth for one last drag.

He’s careful when he exhales, not wanting to blow smoke into your face. His head turns away from to blow the smoke out, and you notice how his pale neck is now exposed to you. 

You lean in to place your lips on the thin pulsing skin, giving him a gentle kiss. You pull back, hands still cupping his warm face while he turns his head and looks into your eyes. A smile slowly creeps onto his face while he stares at you, looking as if his eyes are thanking you for your sweet gesture.

Eddie puts out his cigarette, tossing the butt across the van and bringing his hand back to your waist. He looks at your lips, and then back to your eyes.

“So, uhh...” he says, and you can feel his breath hit your face at your close proximity. It smells like cigarettes and his all-too-familiar toothpaste. “..how about a kiss here, huh?” he smiles, and brings his hand off your waist to point a ringed finger at his mouth.

You smirk, “Real smooth, Ed.” 

“What? Did it work?”

You ponder. “Close your eyes and find out, charmer.”

He immediately closes his brown eyes, patiently waiting for your lips, cutely trying to hold back his smile. The corners of his lips have faint wrinkles as he attempts to not let them curl up into a grin.

You lower your eyelids half way as you lean into his mouth. The moment your lips touch, you close your eyes completely, slowly kissing him. Feeling his warm lips layer onto your own- which his are just barely chapped, but still as pillowy and welcoming as ever- draws a silent hum from you.

Your lips move slowly against his, setting a gentle and intimate pace, which he follows. Your body feels Eddies hands glide down your clothed torso slowly, inching more and more after every heart beat. Automatically, your heads tilt to give eachother more access to your mouths, both equally thirsting for one another. 

Eddies hands have now moved down to the bottom hem of your shirt, slipping his fingers under the edge of the fabric, and placing them on your bare waist. You feel his warm thumbs brush over your skin in a back and forth motion, while the hot air from his nose exhales over your joined lips.

When his tongue slips out to glide over the tip of your own, you lean into his body more. Instantly, your hands become desperate, wildly smoothing around his scalp and accidentally tugging his knots in his wavy hair. He silently chuckles against your mouth at your sudden passion.

Your wet tongues slip over each other even more, opening and closing your mouths but never breaking the kiss. You feel him match your sudden greed by biting your lower lip and tugging it back before immediately putting your lips together again. Your hands push back further into his hair, pulling his body closer to your own, making your chests flushed against each other, and his large warm hands move up from your waist to your back, brushing over your bra strap. They rest somewhere near your shoulder blades.

Your body reacts to his roaming hands and needy kissing by sliding your hips forward, gently grinding on Eddie. With your breasts pressing up to his chest, your hips rolling on his semi under his black denim jeans, and hands smoothing all over his hair and face, he groans into your mouth. 

Anytime your breasts press into him, it makes his head spin, even if they’re covered. His perverted thoughts run rampant, picturing how they bounce when you ride him, or how they squish and mold into his hands when he palms them. He remembers the noises you make when he puts his wet lips around your nipples, or the way your hands tug at his hair while you whimper from the harsh hickeys he gives to the swell of your breasts. 

All of those thoughts make his face heat up as he kisses you, all just from your covered chest pressing into his barely clothed one.

Another roll of your hips, another second of your chest against his body, and he’s groaning again. He has to pull back and break the kiss, catching his breath and trying to collect himself. Your hips stop moving in response, and you feel his hands come down your back to your butt, resting over the back pockets of your shorts.

“Aw. Can’t handle it, Ed?” you tease, even though you’re equally as out of breath as he is.

His dark eyes peer up challengingly at you, lifting an eyebrow under his messy curls for bangs. His open mouth twists into a teeth showing half-smile.

“And if I can?” he asks with sudden confidence.

“So what? You want a medal, big boy?” you mock him, smiling at his pretty face.

“No, you’ll do.” he says sweetly, leaning in to peck your lips. When he pulls back, he looks at your face and just wants to kiss you again. 

“You’re sweet, Ed.” You lean in to plant kisses on his forehead, cheek, nose, and finally mouth. His heart flutters from the affection.

Soon enough, sounds of wet lips moving against each other fill the van again, and you’re both making out. The feeling of his affectionate hands roaming under your shirt, and on the heated skin of your torso is enough to make you forget all about the wholesome moment you had a little while ago. Your own hands roam around his neck and hair. You’re both just lost in the warmth, smell, and feel of each other in his cozy, familiar van.

His hands come up to where your bra hooks together, and he struggles to unclip it, making you giggle against his smiling mouth. Mixed saliva lightly coats your lips when you pull away, lifting your hands under your shirt to unhook your bra. You keep your shirt on as you slide the straps over your shoulders, and slip it under your clothing until the warm fabric is exposed to the cool night air, and Eddies lustful gaze. He watches you like it’s a peep show, and you’re surprised he didn’t jokingly whistle at you. 

You toss your bra away, returning back to Eddies mouth, and his greedy hands go under your shirt again. Your tongues roll over each other, heads tilting, and lips entwine together lustfully. Eddies heated palms finally go to your breasts, cupping the undersides of them. 

He starts gentle, but that doesn’t last long at all. You quietly moan against his mouth as he squeezes and gropes your chest with determination. His blunt flinger tips graze up your flesh, making it to your nipples and he rolls his thumb over them. They rub side to side, before pinching them between his thumb and pointer fingers, causing you to make a pitchy sound.

You retaliate by biting down on his lower lip and tugging it out, making him groan deeply before rejoining your lips. Your hips grind on him, wanting more stimulation to your aroused body. He continues to desperately palm your chest, large hands never ceasing.

There is a pattern of groping and grinding that’s warming up your bodies quickly, making you forget all about the occasional breeze that comes into the van to lift the corners of the blankets and carry Eddies curls to your face before they fall back down. All of your joined rushed movements and kisses brings you both to a state of sexual need that you can’t turn back from.

Eddie pulls away from the kiss, just for him to put his pink lips elsewhere. His head tilts to the side, leaning into your neck and placing his wet and warm lips there, passionately. Like, really passionately. His kisses to your neck are saying ‘I love you, but I really need to fuck you. I really need to feel you cum on me, beg for me, cry for me, and to just need me back.’ 

He starts licking small lines and punctuating them with kisses or bites, making your neck crane back and drawing pleasured sighs from you. His tongue is warm and wet on your pulse, his lips are pillowy on your now shiny skin, and his teeth are strong on the skin he sucks. 

He finally reaches that sweet spot on your neck, the one that has you gripping his hair and making you groan and whimper. He gives it even more attention, smiling on your skin at your reactions. The sounds of his layered clothes shuffling as he switches over to the other side of your neck, trying to find your sweet spot there, fill your heated ears. 

Your head turns to give him access, eyes shutting close as he uses his mouth to further ignite your skin. Your stomach bubbles with lust, feeling those flutters of passion around your core, sinking down to your clothed entrance. You’re getting wet, slicking up your underwear, soon to drip to the fabric of your shorts, sitting right above Eddies hard on. 

His neck kisses feel so fucking good, but when you open your eyes and turn your head, you’re brought to the sight of the high school behind the open van doors.

His head is still in your neck, shuffling around to stimulate your saliva covered skin while you stare out the doors, not too excited about them being open. You’re not sure of you want someone to wander and see you on Eddie’s lap, his hands under your shirt and face in your neck.

“Eddie,” you whine, “the van doors..” your voice is quiet, but still loud enough to be heard over the quiet Iron Maiden music, and Eddies kissing sounds.

You feel his lips detach, and head turn up to look at your eyes locking with his.

“Aw babe, what are you worried about?” his eyes look at your face, slightly worried, slightly aroused. His hands under your shirt have moved down to your rib cage, resting there for now. He tries to reassure your nerves. “Look-” he turns his head and gestures to the empty high school. Your eyes follow, once again. “The school’s closed, and the back of the van is facing it too, so no one’s gonna see us.”

His head turns back to you, but yours is still, yet again, focused on the empty building. Your eyes dart over the windows and doors, but while you’re distracted, Eddie leans his lips towards your ear, since it’s easily accessible now that your head is turned. He gives it a sweet kiss.

Then, you feel his breath when he speaks into it, “Plus,” he gently bites your ear lobe, making you no longer pay attention to the empty school. “If some lucky soul did happen to see us- or me fucking the shit out of you-” his voice rasps,  lips moving to your jaw to plant a kiss there, “-I think it would be kinda hot.” he moves his smiling mouth down to the column of your throat, kissing you, “Don’t you think?”

You quietly moan at his perverted confession and his warm, skillful mouth.

“They’d see you moaning my name,” he speaks lowly, sucking gently on your neck, “and riding my dick...” he gently bites, hands now squeezing your waist. “...won’t they, dollface?”

He pulls back to look at you, trying to sense any reassurance in your face to let him keep going.

Your eyes are half lidded, unable to keep them fully open, now too heavy with lust. You look at his pink lips, then back to hit deep brown eyes. You’d be lying if you said what his words didn’t get your mind racing. If the images he put in your head didn’t get your face hot.

"Yeah, you would be into that, Eddie." You taunt, trying to keep your composure.

He laughs through his nose, smiling, "And you wouldn't?" He challenges.

You start to lean into his neck as you speak to him, “Let’s find out then, huh?”

His lips faintly curl at your boldness, and once your lips touch his neck, he’s tilting out to the side to let your mouth roam around his skin more. Eddie takes so much pleasure in the feeling of your mouth kissing his skin, and he sighs gently when your tongue runs a stripe from the base of his neck, up to his sharp jaw. 

Fuck, why does he feel so warm on your tongue?

You bring your hands to his broad shoulders, tugging at his jacket and vest as you suck a hickey onto his pulse point. He brings his own hands up to peel his layers off, shuffling his arms and torso around to slide his leather and denim off effectively. You feel his body torque and twist, but he tries to keep his neck as straight as he can for you. 

Your mouth continues to wetly dote on his skin, making his eyes squint shut and re-open from pleasure. His hands, which you didn’t even notice return to your body, are resting on your hips, starting to squeeze roughly every now and then in reaction to your teeth sinking down on his thin warm skin of his neck. Your love bites make a trail from his neck, to the base of it, then to the skin between his shoulders and collar bones. 

His immensely tight grip on you just edges you on even more, beginning to semi-roughly grind onto his sideways erection. You’re in desperate need to get any sort of stimulation to your soaking entrance. You’re pulsing down there, practically feeling your heart beat in your pussy just from making out and being touched improperly all over your tense body -- except where you need it most.

Eddie catches onto your fervor, moving his rough hands to the front on your shorts, letting his thumb rub over the chilled metal-like button of them, basically his way to letting you know he wants to take your shorts off. Your mouth moves from off his neck to look at his face, and before he can say anything, you’re kissing him roughly, and rolling your hips towards his hands, begging him to touch your center. 

He uses both his hands to multitask and unbutton your shorts while kissing you back. His black nail polished thumb and pointer finger pull your zipper down. Once the front flaps of your shorts are open, he impatiently tucks his heated right hand into them, sliding over your panties, not bothering to take your shorts off at all. His warm palm cups your mound over the damp fabric, giving it a loving and gentle squeeze. It makes his ringed fingers apply more pressure to your wetness, causing you to moan into his mouth. 

You grind into his soft grip, body still greedy for more. His thick middle finger begins to rub the fabric over your slit. Eddie massages it with a gentle pace, simultaneously spreading your wetness underneath. His touch sends heat up your spine and to your face, making your eyes clench tightly. Each stroke of his fingers draws moan after moan from you against his pink lips, and he’s not even making proper contact with your skin. 

You continue to kiss Eddie harder, hands gripping at his dark hair, wide neck, and broad shoulders. Anything you can grab onto as you rock your core against his fingers, huffing out through your nose. 

Eddie eventually just lets his fingers stay still, allowing you to set your own pace, rubbing yourself against him, whining into his mouth. He’s enjoying your erotic display of neediness. He loves the way you show how much you crave his touch, how much he can turn you on with just his mouth and fingers, how good any part of his body feels against you, even if you’re clothed. 

“Eddie...” you whine, tucking your head into the right side of his neck, “fingers...” your words come out as a weak plea.

He lightly chuckles. “What about ‘em?” his gentle voice travels to your right ear.

You rub your clothed entrance once more on his blunt finger. “Inside,” you speak quietly, down to his chest, too embarrassed to use your words. “want them inside me...”

He sucks his teeth, patronizingly. “Aw...” he mutters, head turning to your hair, “Can’t do that too well with these shorts on, though, huh?” He’s talking as if he isn’t the one who kept them on you. 

You raise your head slowly, soon to have your eyes meeting his sly face. Any other time, you would make a witty remark to your smug bastard of a boyfriend, but this time, you’re just beyond sexually frustrated. You’re a heated, aroused, aching mess that just seriously needs to be touched, with underwear that gets wetter and slicker with every second.

You lift off your legs to slide down your unzipped shorts, and his doe eyes watch your every move. Eddie watches the denim brushing down your thighs that he loves so much, sliding over your calves, kicking them off your feet. Your underwear follows shortly after, and you slightly cringe at the stringy globs of wetness attached, connecting your cunt to the fabric. He’s practically eye fucking you the whole time. His cute tongue pokes out to lustfully lick his lips while you crawl back onto his lap.

You straddle him once again, this time having a completely bare lower body. He wastes no time in having his hands move to squeeze your bare upper thighs, moulding them under his grip. His curly head tucks into your neck, like second nature, and he places the most passionate, wet, open mouthed kisses all over your skin. 

His hands slide from your upper thighs, to your hips, then to the bare globes of your ass. Eddie squeezes them with an aggressive fervor, then adding his teeth to your neck. He sucks a harsh hickey onto your neck, while his warm palms grope at your curves, pulling them apart and squeezing them back together, making you roll forward into his lower body.

“Eddie...” you whine and warn at the same time, but before you can get anymore words out, his ringed pointer and middle finger lift to your mouth, slowly slipping them inside until his rings touch your lips. 

“Quiet, please sweetheart.” He says against your neck, causing you to feel his hot breath meet your wet skin, sending a chill to your face. “I’m gettin’ there, I promise.” he reassures you.

His fingers stay in your mouth and you grip his wrist, twirling your tongue around them while you suck, wallowing in how thick they are - wishing they were in you somewhere else. His other hand is still on your ass, continuing to grope you as Eddie’s fingers pacify you. His mouth still roams on your jaw, neck, and collar bone, leaving marks that you’ll wear for the next few days. 

All of his attention on you makes you moan against his fingers. Your entrance is still bare and soaked, impatiently waiting for attention, grinding yourself on nothing. He notices your needy muffled moans and rolling hips. It makes him grin a self satisfying grin into your neck, feeling cocky from the way your body craves for him.

“Oh baby, you need something?” he teases, knowing well that you can’t respond with his fingers shoved into your mouth, pushing down on your tongue. You try to tell him you want him to finger you already, but your voice is muffled with the first syllable. 

“Why aren’t you using your words?” he looks at you, smiling before he turns his face into a fake sentimental one ,“What’s wrong? Don’t you need something?” he cocks his head to the side, fake worrying and driving you insane. 

Little shit.

You impatiently pout against his fingers, moving your hands into the back of his hair and gripping it pleadingly. His head jerks slightly, letting his jaw fall down to chuckle at you- and if your underwear wasn't already all off, it would be even more soaked from that damn chuckle of his. 

“Ok, ok!” he says between raspy giggles, “so damn- it’s so damn cute when you pout with my fingers in your mouth...” his fingers slide out before he finishes his sentence, “...and, I’m gonna need you to hold these for me.” he says, slipping his rings off his 2 fingers and lifting your palm. His lips feel hot as he kisses your inner wrist before sliding his 2 rings on.

“Aw.” you speak sarcastically, “Eddie baby, how roma- mmf” 

His lips are on yours before you can get all your sarcasm out, but you feel him smile against your mouth. And finally, his thick fingers - wet with your own saliva - slide through your slick folds, sending heat up your body all the way to your face. Your arms cross around his neck and shoulders, wildly griping onto his dark hair and melting into his body.

His wet pointer and middle finger tips slowly rub up and down your slit while his mouth silences any of your moans you want to let out. You grow impatient at his pace, starting to roll your hips into his moving fingers. The night air is cool but your body feels so damn warm, even when you’re practically half naked in just your shirt. You’re so wet that the noises of Eddie’s fingers moving through your folds can be heard through the van, unable to be drowned out by the quiet radio at all. 

Every time his finger tips graze over your clit, your body tenses, making your thighs clench and your kiss deepen. His other hand that was once on your ass is now moving up your body, seeking out your tits. His rough finger tips pinch at your nipple while his other finger tips rub at your entrance, stimulating your body’s most sensitive points in the way he knows drives you crazy. 

You cant hold your moans back so you tear your lips away from his, head immediately falling onto his warm shoulder. You pant and whimper into his upper body, bawling your fists into his cut up tank top while his finger tips continue to play with you. His head turns to the side to kiss your hair, muttering about how cute you are when you get overwhelmed. 

Your hips start rolling even faster, body getting warmer and needier. He eats it up, the way your body begs for him without ever having to use your words. You tug the strap of his tank top down his shoulder, bringing you trembling lips to his skin.

You feel Eddie easily sliding one of his thick fingers into your heat, walls forming around it like memory foam while your lips move over his skin. Your tongue licks up his shoulder, and your teeth mark up his flesh, pulling little groans from him with your harsh mouth while he draws moans from you with his single finger. He feels so good, you cant believe its just a single finger thats getting you this hot and heavy.

But you can believe that your body is still thirsty for-

“More..” you whine, “need more fingers, Eddie...” you finish your begging with kisses to the base of his neck. You then start to suck over the spot you kissed, letting your teeth join in.

“Only if you, shit- yeah keep biting me babe,” he huffs, rewarding you with 2 fingers now to pump you faster “fuck, you better mark me up.” Eddies demand sounded much more desperate than controlling- like he was begging for you to mark him as if he was all yours, like he belonged to you only. 

His request, along with his skillful fingers, brings you to a new type of arousal. Your body reacts by roughly gripping the back of his head and taking advantage of his exposed neck, leaving a few small bruises. His hand that was on your breast now grips your ribcage for support from your unforgiving mouth.

You can feel his throat vibrate under your lips as he groans. “ah, fuck-” he hisses when he inhales, “s-shit, there it is...”

His hand on your rib moves down in-between your thighs, letting his thumb circle your clit while 2 thick fingers move in and out of you, making you gush around them. 

“Fuck, Eddie! Oh my god..” You moan into his wavy hair.

Your palm comes down to cup his very evident erection, squeezing at his firm shaft under his denim. You want to tease him as much as he’s been teasing you. The noise he lets out is soft, but it still drives you crazy. You can hear and feel how turned on he is, it makes you moan right back.

Your ears begin to heat up from the noises your pussy makes, thinking it sounds obnoxiously wet. But, like the pervert Eddie is, he grins at it while you feel almost embarrassed by it. 

“You hear that, huh y/n?” he teases, and you can really hear the shit eating grin in his voice, “Fuckin’ love the sounds you make.” Eddie groans, getting off to his fingers in you, your hand on his jean covered dick, and your mouth leaving dark hickeys on his upper body. He is especially getting off to the wet sounds of your begging pussy.

“I lay awake at night trying to remember this exact sound.” he confesses, lips leaning towards your ear. “Wanna know how many times I fuck myself to it?”

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck.

“How many times I made myself cum from it?” his raspy voice continues, giving you butterflies as you feel his breath on the shell of your ear. “How badly I want to make it leak on me? I mean, shit- it drives me fuckin’ crazy.”

You can barely handle his fingers stimulating both your clit and your entrance, and now you have to hear his incredibly hot perverted thoughts too?

You whimper, starting to feel deliciously overwhelmed. “hnng, Eddie...”

“And that too,” he rambles, arm still pistoning between your legs “the way you say my name, like it’s all you know how to do,” he pants out a curse under his breath, letting his head fall back, sticking his chin up. “It’s enough to make me blow, like right now.” 

You head tilts up, smiling before tugging on his earlobe. “Don’t tease.”

He scoffs.

One hand of yours tugs at his scalp while the other still palms his jeans. Your back begins to arch from his fingers working your clit and walls. Your voice trembles when you moan, telling Eddie how good it feels, begging for him to keep going.

You feel heat pool in your stomach, muscles contracting all over your body. You turn your head to Eddie’s lips, kissing him and pathetically moaning into his mouth. Both your hands slide under the hem of his tank top, fingers gliding over the textured groves and marks of his healed skin.

Scar tissue. 

Your hands move over them, rising up to seek out his already hard nipples. Your eager finger tips graze them and roll them under your thumbs. You feel him exhale shakily through his nose at your teasing to his sensitive pink buds. You then put them between your pointer and thumb fingers, slowly squeezing more pressure, bit by bit, waiting until he makes a noise against your mouth. Once he makes a small, high pitched noise, you know you’ve struck gold.

You roll your finger tips together at that pressure, beginning to make him squirm into your kiss, lighting his body into a fire of arousal. You bite at his lower lip, just to drive him more crazy until you decide to continue kissing him again. You feel his plush pink lips vibrate against yours from his whimpers, and his hands between your legs stiffen every now and then from the pleasure he’s feeling, before getting himself back on track.

He tears his lips away, and they now appear to glisten with your combined spit in the van light. His fingers halt on you, thumb leaving your clit while his 2 fingers stay still inside your walls.

“Keep doing that n’ I’m gonna fuck you.” He warns, even though he���s smiling.

“Maybe that’s the point, smart guy.” You smile too.

His eyebrow raises and the corner of his lip follows.

You begin to lift his tank top over his head, dark curls poofing out once the fabric lifts over his face. They fall back onto his neck and wide shoulders, brown hair contrasting with his pale skin covered in faded black tattoos. Your eyes travel down to where the red pick necklace points to, practically guiding your sight down his lean body.

You see his healed scars, starting with small, yet deep scratches, then increasing to violent looking, wide spread marks. The scar tissue is a fleshy white color. Your finger tips slide over the bumps of tissue, and Eddie just stares at your focused face the whole time.

You hear him inhale - just a tiny bit, before he speaks. 

“Yeah.. they’re pretty gnarly huh?” he says awkwardly, trying to take your mind off of wherever it’s wandering to. His giggle is forced, but you don’t mind.

Your giggle, however, is real in response to his light hearted remark. “Yes,” you smile, “very metal.” Your eyes break away, looking up into his brown doe eyes, glinting with the lighting from inside and outside the van.

Both your hands rise up, now sitting on the sides of his defined face. Your hand with his 2 rings on your fingers cools his cheek, and you can feel the large ring bands push out, exposing the gap between the steel and your skin.

Before you can lean in to kiss him, your eyes twitch and flutter as you feel his fingers enter you again, and then wiggle in you. Your breath hitches at his naughty way of teasing, not moving them in or out, just keeping them pushed inside you and wiggling them around your stimulated walls.

“Your turn, princess.” he remarks, rasp in his voice. “Take your shirt off for me, huh?”

You scoff playfully before bringing your hands down to your shirt, careful to not let Eddies rings fall off your fingers. You raise it off your torso, exposing your naked breasts first. Your body is now completely bare while you straddle Eddie’s shirtless figure. 

Eddie eyes your chest, dark pupils switching side to side between both of your erect nipples. Before you can cover yourself, bashful from his admiring, he leans in to your chest. 

“You’re an angel,” he speaks dreamily into your skin, “so beautiful.” His lips place passionate adoring kisses all over your chest, purposefully avoiding your nipples. 

Your hands are in his thick waves of hair, resting on his scalp, while you continue to feel his hair brush over your bare skin paired with his warm lips edging closer to where you want them most. Your back arches into his affection, trying to get him to finally suck your nipples.

His face sinks lower, lips moving closer and closer to your bud. His tongue comes out first, teasingly licking it. He swirls around it a few times, adding pressure until he finally wraps his lips and sucks harshly. 

Sucking sounds fill between you both, and your whimpers come out every time he uses his teeth. He switches between nipples, and you’re left to grind onto his fingers that slowly return to pumping in and out of you, prepping you for something bigger.

His lips feel so warm, and the attention he’s giving your chest is worth praising. 

“mmm- good boy, Eddie...” The way you moan, the praise, and the sound of his name from your pleasured voice pushes him so far. He fingers you faster and sucks harder, the erection in his pants is now insufferable. 

With some final licks, sucks, and bites, he pulls away, looking at you while faintly panting. 

“Does this mean you’re gonna ride me now?” he asks hopefully. 

You grin, looking down at his jeans, hand coming back to his bulge to give it a firm squeeze. “You’re asking me like I could ever refuse.” Your eyes flicker back up to his own, maintaining eye contact as you unbutton his jeans and pull his zipper down. 

His fingers pull out of you to rushingly do the rest. He looks down, pulling his dick out and dragging his boxers and pants down to just above his knees. You watch him move quickly, showing a silent display of desperateness to be inside you.

His shaft sits up on his lower scared stomach, towering over his dark happy trail that makes you bite your lip every time you see it. His pink tip is shining in small bits of pre cum, squeezed out from your groping. 

While your eyes look at his shaft, his eyes look at your body. He grips his dick, loosely pumping it at the sight of you sitting on him. He looks at your bare thighs, admiring the way they squish out because of the way you’re sitting on him. He’s reminded of they squish and tremble at the sides of his face when he’s tucked between them, mouth about to make you cum. His eyes trail up to your exposed pussy that he loves so much, then up your stomach to your breasts that he was just giving affection to. 

“Condom, Eddie?” you ask gently. 

“Uhh, yeah- front jean pocket.” he directs you towards his pocket that has the condom in it. Once you grab it, he takes it out of your hand, even though you didn’t actually give it to him, but you don’t mind.

He eyes the square package before bringing the corner of it to his mouth, ripping it down the edge to tear it off in one swift motion. He puffs the teared side of the package between his lips away from you both, pulls the lubed ring out, and disposed the rest of the package somewhere next to him. 

He rolls the condom onto his incredibly firm shaft, making sure it’s secured all the way to the bottom. He wastes no time in grabbing your hips, aiding you to hover over his tip. 

Your hands grip the warm skin of his broad shoulders, letting your forehead rest on his. Your entrance hangs over him, wet and gaping, and you inhale as you lower yourself, connecting to his tip and slowly sinking down an inch, then 2, then 3. 

Your eyelashes flutter and your hole takes more of him in, and Eddie exhales a shaky breath of relief, finally being able to be inside you. The stretch of his dick and the tightness of your walls makes both your mouths hang open.

Eddie hums a deep noise when you rise up slowly, and then sink back down with a forward curl of your hips, repeating the process at your own gentle pace. With every new lift, sink, and roll of your hips, your breath speeds faster and Eddie gets more restless. 

He utters an occasional curse, making your ears go hot. Every time you pull your hips forward, he squeezes your hips tighter. His head falls back, gently hitting the van wall as his chest rises steadily, eyes of his closing shut from pleasure. His hands now understand your pace and pattern of movement, so he guides you firmly, and you feel the force of his hands moving you in your set direction. It feels really good, giving you more butterflies. 

Your hand with his rings on it move to the back of his neck, pulling him forward to bring your bare chests close together. You kiss him aggressively, using your teeth to bite as his lip, and your tongue to swirl over his own in his hot mouth. Your hands grip his curls at his scalp, further expressing your aroused aggression, letting your pussy clamp onto his shaft with a vice grip every now and then. 

Eddie whines into your mouth, squeezing your hips as he forces them to move faster. Your kiss takes both your breaths away, making you both pull back and catch your breath while your hips continue to fuck him in and out of your hole. You’re both panting, hair still in your grip making him shiver from the way the pain turns him on. 

You feel him buck up into you, impatiently slamming himself into you, matching the pace he set for you both. You moan over and over again, head tilting back rasing your chin up. Your hand slips out of his hair to cover your loud mouth while his half lidded eyes watch your every move, red ears hearing your every muffled noise, and hard dick feeling the pressure of your walls surround him. 

“God d-damn it,” he groans, staring at you, “let me hear you, p-please princess... let me, fuck-!” he’s begging you. How can you refuse such a good boy begging for you?

You reluctantly move your hand away from your mouth, placing both your hands back on his shoulders. Some of your fingers are touching his hair that’s sticking to the skin of his shoulder, nails digging into him while your eyes squeeze shut, overwhelmed from pleasure of being fucked so well at the right spot. 

Eddie bites his lip at the noises you make, now sounding much clearer and louder. He watches your mouth hang open, and the way you tuck your lip behind your teeth when you say “Fuck”. The way your eyebrows furrow when his name leaves your lips. They way your eyes open to stare at his inked body between your legs. The way your breasts move with your body. The way you tuck your head into his neck, panting and huffing into his hair.

“hnnn, Eddie... feels s’good-” you moan, “Don’t stop” you say, referring to the way he’s holding onto your rising and falling hips while thrusting himself into you.

You tuck his hair away from his neck, then bite into his pulse point again, just the way he loves. You lick the tip of your tongue over the divots forming into his skin, before sucking harshly. He groans loudly, head falling back once more while his eyes clench shut harshly. 

“Shiiiit-” he whimpers, keeping one hand on your hip while the other pushes your head further into his neck, his way of telling you he wants you to keep going.

You smile into his neck, “Good boy, keep making noises.” You praise him, making his abdomen clench and dick twitch in you. Each roll of your hips has him squeezing more onto the back of the part between your skull and neck. You lick and bite all the way up to his ear lobe, pulling and tugging it between your teeth, making Eddie sigh a shakey breath into your own ear. 

Your head comes back to admire your work on his pale skin, new red marks next to your older ones from minutes ago, sure to feel incredibly sore for the next few days. But Eddie being the freak he is, is going to welcome the side effects of the sadistic pain you inflict on him. 

His hand that was on the base of your skull slides to the side of your face. His thick thumb presses on your lower lip, and your tongue comes out to lick the pad of it. The look on your face is teasing.

He stares at you, his thick eyelashes blink once before he lifts his pointer and middle finger up to your mouth. You automatically open it so he can slide them in, welcoming them once again. Your tongue tastes them, swirling around his digits as you continue to fuck yourself on his dick.

Your eyes literally roll back, and you moan a relaxed moan, feeling a sense of relief from his fingers in your mouth. You feel your eyebrows slant down, sounds vibrating around his thick fingers, so turned on by his hands giving you all this attention. It makes you bounce on his dick with more motivation.

Your vision flickers down to his doe eyes, already staring at you with drool coming out of the corners of your completely stuffed mouth. You both can now feel the van slightly recoil, gently and faintly shaking back and forth on its wheels from your rough, fast paced, fucking.

His other hand that was on your hip comes down to the front of your body, sinking to where you’re both connected. His thumb finds your clit making you jolt, and he rubs weak circles on it. His tongue comes out to lick his pink smiling lips - watching you squirm on him with a cocky look on his pretty face. You’re overwhelmed from pleasure, but unable to make much noise about it due to his fingers filling your mouth to the brim.

“Aw. Can’t handle it, baby?” head tilting to the side a little, mocking your own comment from earlier.

Bold coming from someone who’s equally drunk off pleasure. You groan on his fingers, and the vibrations from your mouth, as well as the heat and wetness of your tongue and lips sends a shiver up him. Your hips shift from bouncing to gently grinding, sliding back and forth on his shaft and into his thumb tracing your clit.

You can’t stop whining, and Eddie can’t stop panting. You’re both so turned on by how good you’re making each other feel. His pleasure from your pussy and your noises drives you crazy, and your pleasure, including your muffled sounds from the way he makes you feel, makes his head spin. 

He notices how your body is reacting to him. He wants to be a little bit of a tease, he can’t help it. "Feels that good huh, sweetheart?" he taunts. “You like my fingers in your mouth, huh?” he asks, knowing you can’t speak.

You nod, eyes barely able to stay open.

“Such a good girl...” he praises, finger on your clit suddenly moving faster, making your shoulders tremble, “So responsive... it’s s’fuckin’ hot,” he groans, “I love it, give me more baby.”

Your body continues to jolt and shiver at his pressure on your clit and his dick stretching you out, filling you up. Your hips are grinding faster, rolling with a new speed and fervor. Your hand comes up to his neck, lightly wrapping your fingers around the front of it, thumb and finger tips touching your marks on his skin.

Your walls are clenching him, riding him aggressively while lightly choking him as he practically gags you. You’re huffing through your nostrils, thighs slightly burning but your pleasure motivates you to power through.

“Jesus- fuck,” he hisses, "g-good girl, ride it like it's yours."  

You moan at his erotic words. He’s so good at talking to you in the heat of the moment. Especially when his words come out shakey and weak from his arousal, it gets you going. You love how he looks like he’s about to fall apart under you. 

His fingers slip out of your mouth, heading to your hips, gripping them for support. You exhale heavily through your now free mouth. Your hand leaves off his throat and dig your nails into him elsewhere, near his shoulders.

You now switch between bounding to grinding on him, noises of both your moans drowning out his low volume radio, the sounds of your wetness around his shaft, and even the faint noises of the few cars that drive past the roads in the front part of the van. Your head falls to his shoulder. 

“hnngg, Eddie... you feel s’good...” your voice is music to his ears. He needs to hear more of it, more of your praise, curses, moans, all of it. Your voice laced with pleasure that he brings you, it turns him on much more than it should.  

“Fuck- say you love me,” Eddie groans, begging you.

Your face heats up at his sudden intimate request, stomach flipping now that you’re suddenly flustered.

Your voice is breathy and light, “I love you, Ed.” you say next to his ear.

He feels like he’s gonna explode right there. “Look at me... please,” his voice sounds soft. Your eyes meet his, trying to prevent them from closing from all the pleasure he’s bringing you. “Say it again, pretty girl” he pleads for you, out of breath. His thumb on your clit slows down, and it wont speed back up until you say it again. 

You whine once more, eyes staring into his brown, chocolate colored ones while you ride him, “Fuck... I love you,” and you really mean it. He brings your head close to his face, pulling you in for a very deep kiss, keeping his wide hand on the back of your skull.

Your try to gyrate your hips and make out with him at the same time, finding it difficult to keep your breath steady from doing 2 breath taking things at once. You feel the fat of your ass slapping against his thighs, with his fingers curling around the back of your skull, forcing your face to stay connected to his. His thumb rubs your slippery clit, bringing you more vibrations of pleasure up and down your body.

Your pussy continues to leak and squelch around him, while your tongues stay circling around each other, drawing mewls from you both. Your stomach feels seething heat, making you realize you’re not far from a climax.

Your walls pulsate with heavy arousal, and Eddie feels this through the condom. The way you won’t stop clenching around him, sucking him in, moaning on his lips, even the way you smell, it’s taking over all his senses. He’s worried now because he knows he’s going to finish before you.

You pull off his mouth to catch your breath, but when you see his face, you have to bite your lip to hold yourself back. His eyes are barely open, brows creasing above them as they slant. His mouth can’t close, lips hanging open, exhaling heavily. His bangs are messy, some of the ends attach to his shining forehead. His neck is absolutely covered in bite marks and hickeys, adams apple bobbing in the center.

His tongue comes out to lick the upper corner of his lips, following with a deep breath - at least, as deep as he can get from his overwhelmed state. 

“Please,” he half whines, half begs, “if you keep, fuck- if you k-keep going, ‘m gonna c-cum..” he says in the most pathetic way. His voice is pitchy, sounding like a sad whiny mess. 

“So tell me to stop.” you pant, testing him. His begging only turns you on more, starting to get you closer to finishing. “I know you wanna cum, pretty boy,” you say to his sweaty, pleasured face, “so let me see it.” Your head comes to his ear, letting you hear how good he’s making you feel, knowing how much that makes him squirm. He still lets you ride him anyway, circling his finger around your bud, eager to make you cum first. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-” Eddie hisses. “Shit-! mm- like that, j-just like that baby,” he can’t help but be vocal when you’re making him feel so good. 

His hand on your clit starts to weaken, halting sometimes too. You bring your hand down to guide his. 

“No, no, Eddie- need you to keep touching me,” you breathe out, getting closer to cumming. His thumb circles back on track. “Good boy, j-just like that, there you go...” 

He whines from the sound of you praising him, calling him a good boy right in his ear. He ruts into you sloppily, making all kinds of erotic noises with his perfect mouth. Your legs tremble on top of his own, not too far away from your release. 

Your head falls back, shoulders shaking and contracting. 

“’m close, Eddie..” you whine his name. 

His hand that’s holding your hip squeezes very tightly, fingers creasing into your hip, making his nails press little divots into your flesh. Your walls grip his shaft, tighter than ever, this time not relaxing at all. 

“You’re fuckin’ clenching.. too damn tight,” Eddie complains with a pleasured noise, “Oh jesus chr- fuck! gonna cum, gonna cu- ah-!” 

He’s spilling into the condom before he can get all his words out, and you continues to chase your very close climax with the sounds of his moans pushing you further. 

You keep his hand on your clit, letting all the muscles in your body contract one last time for you finally cream all over his dick, listening to him praise you and tell you how beautiful you look when you cum. Your hips still pulse up and down, slowing with every lift. You feel him lean forward to your rising and falling body, placing kisses to your breasts and neck.

His eyes are taking in your whole face and figure. He watched you reach your high and come back down from it, worshiping your trembling body with his lips and words, while his shaft still rests inside you.

You finally come to a halt, still sitting on his dick as you catch your breath. Your bare naked bodies grow still, with the only movement coming from your rising chests- rest of your bodies too tired to do anything else. 

Eddie realizes first before you do, that you’re very naked; more naked than he is, given the fact that his pants weren’t fully taken off. They were only pushed down to his knees. He reaches over to grab his battle vest, swinging it over your shoulders and tucking it close to your chest.

“For your modesty, sweetheart.” He smiles.

Your eyebrow raises. “Yeah, because fucking while the van doors are wide open shows how much you care about ‘modesty’.” you smile as you tease him. Your hands grab the sides of his vest, bringing the flaps closer to each other to cover your tits.

He leans in to peck your nose, then your lips, and pulls back to admire how cute you look in his vest.

“And what about your modesty?” Your eyes trail down his torso.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fully clothed soon. Did you at least have fun?” His hands come up to your side, rubbing his palms up and down you, soothingly.

“Yes,” you peck his lips, “this was a fun date.” you peck him again.

He brings his fist up, scrunching his face and shaking his closed hand in a little ‘hell yeah’ type of motion. His clenched eyes glance out the van, then open wide. “Woah- is that a person?”

Your head whips so fast towards the open doors, but you see nothing. Confused, you realized he’s messing with you. You look back at your trickster boyfriend and shove him. “Eddie!” Your little laugh has your walls semi vibrate around his semi soft erection that’s still in you. He smiles at you, trying to hold back his giggles.

“Sorry, sorry!” he jokes. “Too easy.”

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[hottpinkpenguin]

Omggg I just saw your requests, is it still open?

If so, could I request an angsty one-shot with P (problematic love/pleading) with "there's no happy ending for us is it?" for Loki?

Anyways no pressure and have good day 😊☺

A/N: sorry for the long delay love, my account got hacked and I took a brief hiatus. Here it is!! Enjoy, and have some tissues ready

Loki X GN!Reader

Word Count: 1339 Warnings: **heartbreak ahead**

You pulled your jacket tightly across your shoulders, the chill of the open window that had been refreshing moments before now too causing goosepimples to prickle up your neck. 

He watched you, his gaze pleading and broken. You couldn’t look at him. Your throat threatened to close in on itself, a painful lump forming in your chest as tears burned at the corners of your eyes.

“We knew this couldn’t last, Loki,” you managed to choke out. 

It was true that the two of you had gone into this with your eyes wide open. Your triste had been ill-fated from the start, and it had only gotten more complicated the longer the two of you had pretended that there was a future together. The TVA was hot on your heels in a way they’d never been before, so close you could practically feel the tickle of their breath on the back of your neck. 

He reached across the bed, grasping your hand in his. You hadn’t noticed you’d been shaking until now. He gripped your hand so tightly his knuckles turned white and your fingers pulsed with your heartbeat.

“I always thought… hoped… that we’d find a way. Somehow.” 

You stifled a sob in the sleeve of your jacket, only able to nod. You knew. You’d clung to that same hope. 

“I know.” It was all you could bring yourself to say.

His hand released yours, coming up to your chin. Gently, he pushed your head upwards, forcing your eyes to become level with his. Instincts told you to look away, but once you met his gaze you fell into him the way you always did. Laid bare, open and vulnerable, you let yourself cry as he looked at you, looked into you. It was easy, effortless. And so damn unfair that the TVA wouldn’t allow you this. The single shred of peace you’d found in all those desolate, empty timelines. Rage at the sheer injustice of it all boiled in your gut, hot enough to blister the sky above you. 

Just as you felt yourself about to burst in a flame of anger, Loki’s lips connected with yours. Heat and pressure, the two of you melted into one another. His hands snaked up the sides of your neck, your jaw, your face, tangling in your hair. It was a desperate kiss, a last gasp for air. You drank it in, greedily, not wanting to find the bottom of that kiss, not wanting to break it. It grew and grew until it was hard to tell where one of you started and the other stopped.

Then, the crescendo peaking, it began to soften. Deepen. Slow. His hands unclenched from your hair, retracing their path over your cheeks and down your neck like rain down a windowpane. As you retreated back into your bodies, you let your lips break apart for a moment here, a moment there. Cool air found its way in between you. The heat turned back to the icy cold dread that had been there before.

Loki leaned his forehead against yours, his eyelids fluttering closed.

“We could fight…” Loki’s offer died on his lips, but hung in the air like smoke. 

Temptation. You knew you could fight the TVA. With him. You knew the two of you would win too. The combination of your powers made you two the perfect weapon against the TVA. It would be over in minutes, and you’d be able to just live. No more running, no more sneaking around, no more loving with one eye cast over your shoulder. 

But you also knew what the outcome would be. With the TVA dismantled, the multiverse would descend into chaos. Timelines that never should have been would flourish, pushing out the timelines of stability, peace, and prosperity. Worlds - universes - would converge on one another like dying stars. The sheer magnitude of multiplying times would expand and expand until it bulged at the very seams of existence. And then, the cosmic bubble that housed everything that wasn’t black nothingness would pop. And life would simply cease. You’d seen it. You’d accidentally found that timeline - the one in which you and Loki fought to stay together, fought to end the TVA. You’d lived it out to the end already, a thousand times. You had tried this story a thousand times. 

A thousand other you’s had justified your choice to fight with Loki, to fight for Loki. You deserved love. Maybe it would be different this time. Maybe it would be worth it.

But failed experiment after failed experiment proved you wrong. Yes, you deserved love, you just couldn’t have this love. Things would be different this time, but time is the same every time, and you can’t change time. And nothing - not even the man who made you whole - was worth the pain and destruction you’d seen. 

“We’d win, too. But we can’t. You may not know we can’t, but I do. Loki, nothing’s worth what happens. Not even this.” You reached out, resting your palm against his cheek. It was damp with tears. The light of defiance that had sparked in his eyes died as he accepted your denial. 

“There’s no happy ending for us, is there?” 

His question was barely an audible whisper, but it plucked a chord at the very center of your being. Never before, in all other timelines, had Loki asked you this. Unlike you, Loki didn’t have the ability to remember the thousands of attempts the two of you had made. In the moment just before nothingness, he always used his considerable powers to send you back. His strength and your ability to hop across timelines as if you were playing a game of galactic hopscotch made it possible, but he could never go with you. Instead, he sent you back at the moment of the end of everything. And it was always with the hope that you would convince the two of you to choose differently. And you’d failed him, time and time again. He didn’t know that, not unless you told him. Normally you didn’t tell him. Couldn’t bear to see the weight of such knowledge settle on him like so many bricks.

But you had told him, this go round. You knew from experience that doing so brought you closer to the desired outcome than anything else. If you didn’t tell him the outcome, he’d fight and rage and plead with you until you gave in. Every. Single. Time. 

This was different though. The note of understanding in his voice rang deeper than usual. You saw barely-there glimmers of memory in his eyes. Memories from the other times. Memories he shouldn’t have been able to have, and memories he probably couldn’t put into words they were so fleeting and illusory. But somehow, he knew.

“No,” you whispered back, running your thumb across his cheek. “There is no happy ending for us. This is the only ending we get.”

As if on cue, you felt the room around you crackle with electricity as an effervescent white-gold portal split the air beside the bed you were sitting on. Loki froze, but his eyes were fixed on you. You looked at him, the last few instants together beginning to tick down. You memorized his face. The curve of his cupid’s bow, the faint scar on his left cheek, the flecks of brown in his green irises, the curl of hair at his temple. You’d seen all these things so much that they felt embedded in your very DNA. 

Two TVA agents materialized out of the portal holding the glowing batons they called “time sticks” in front of their bodies. They expected you to run - both of you - and they moved quickly.

You felt the smallest burn on your right forearm as one of the timesticks connected with your jacket. As the burning sensation spread throughout your veins like wildfire, you and Loki looked into one another.

Your half-smiles were mirror images of each other as you disappeared into nothingness.

[therainroguefanfiction]

❉ 139 Dreams (Murayama Yoshiki) Utopia

📑 Table of Contents

Genre: Fluff, Slice of Life

Word Count: 4,326

Pairing: Reader x Murayama

World: High&Low

Notes: First, let me apologize because this took AGES to get out. I kept sitting down to work on it but only did a little at a time because I was struggling for some reason. I've also been kind of busy because this game I like is shutting down so we're scrambling to get videos and information for the wiki lmao I really hope this turned out okay and you enjoy it, sorry again for taking a century to get this to you!

☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ: ⋆.:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

Choosing to graduate from Oya high was one of the hardest decisions Murayama has ever had to make for himself and it took him a while before he felt comfortable enough to do just that. He had many memories, most of them good, from his time at Oya and he was thankful for the time he spent there, for the friends and allies he made along the way. He often wondered how different of a person he would be if he had never taken over Oya, but he didn't want to dwell on that for too long. A new chapter of his life had officially begun and he was terrified, but it also felt freeing. It felt as if his world had expanded, laying out before him just waiting for him to conquer it.

Murayama Yoshiki was forging a new path for himself with his two best friends at his side. The question was - where did he even begin? Had the world always been so vast, so open? It was a terrifying thought, but he wanted to explore the world and see what lay beyond the borders of S.W.O.R.D. There was no doubt in his mind that he would eventually return, but there was no harm in having some fun until then, right? The world was his and he was the king of his own destiny.

Most of the time.

Murayama clicked his tongue in annoyance as his bike came to a stop, the engine whining pitifully as it ran out of gas, right beneath a sign telling him that the next gas station was a hundred miles down the road. He squinted his eyes against the blazing sun, looking around him. All he could see was desert, the heat distorting the scenery the farther he looked. He's pulled off some impressive feats in his short lifetime, but walking a hundred miles in the desert? He would most likely die, that he was sure of, but he couldn't just sit there and do nothing. It wasn't his style.

He swung his leg over, pulling himself off the bike, giving it a glare for good measure before he began walking, his sneakers kicking up sand and sending tiny pebbles skittering across the ground. His stomach was complaining loudly because he hadn't eaten much of anything in two days. "Just tough it out," he muttered, slapping his stomach a couple of times. If there was one thing Murayama excelled at, it was toughing it out even during the most impossible of situations, and this was no different.

Time seemed to tick by slower than it ever had before. It became torturous just trying to lift his legs, his sneakers dragging across the ground. Sweat dripped from his face, his jacket thrown over his shoulder to try and help his body cool down. The sky was devoid of clouds and there was not even the lightest of breezes to assist him. It was truly a miserable experience and he didn't make it very far before his legs gave out and he fell to his knees, breathing heavily. He was so distracted by his misery that he didn't notice the car coming up the road behind him, nor did he notice when the car stopped.

"Oi, are you alright?"

He slowly lifted his head and he swore he saw an angel standing there, the most beautiful person he had ever laid eyes on. He rubbed at his eyes but you didn't vanish.

You frowned, shielding your eyes with your hand as you stepped closer to him. "You're not going to make it far in this heat. Where are you going? I'll give you a ride."

He stared at the hand you offered him, blinking dumbly as if the sun had fried the last of his braincells. Finally, he managed to lift his hand, sliding it into your own and letting you pull him to his feet. You offered him a smile before getting back into the car, waiting for him to drag his body to the passenger seat. He released an audible sigh as the AC hit him, slinking down in his seat as if he weren't in a stranger's car. You chuckled, bumping the AC up a notch before putting the car in drive and pressing on the gas.

"What are you doing way out here, anyway?"

"I ran out of gas," he replied, his head lolling to the side so he could look at you. "You shouldn't pick up strangers off the side of the road. S'dangerous."

You hummed, glancing at him. "Are you a serial killer?"

"No."

"Then we're fine."

His nose scrunched up at that. "You're just going to believe me? What if I'm lying?"

"It's certainly possible, but… I believe you."

"Why?"

"I dunno. There's just something about your eyes… they seem honest enough."

He scoffed in disbelief, turning to look out the window. The desert was passing by in a blur of brown and tan, making him feel dizzy. He rested his forehead against the glass, closing his eyes. He hadn't intended to fall asleep, he just wanted to rest his eyes, but it didn't take long for sleep to claim him.

You giggled when you heard the soft snores coming from his lips. 'He must be really exhausted after walking in this heat. What a strange man.' You turned on the radio, keeping the volume low so you had something to listen to during the long drive, your head bobbing and fingers tapping the steering wheel in tune with the beat.

An hour later, you were pulling up to the Nekromicon Diner, parking beside the building where the employee entrance was. You had figured the man would be awake by now, but he was still sleeping peacefully. You had to wonder when the last time he had slept was. As you pulled the keys from the ignition, you frowned at him. 'I can't just leave him in the car, he'll die from heatstroke for sure.'

"Excuse me," you called softly, resting your hand on his shoulder. No response. "Excuse me, sir, it's time to wake up."

A soft groan passed his lips followed my unintelligible mumbling before he turned away from you, curling against the door. You tried a few more times but with no success. A normal person probably would have left him, but you had never been normal, often doing questionable things without hesitation. Such as trying to pull him from the car.

You grabbed him under his armpits and tugged as hard as you could, managing to pull his body off the seat, but you misjudged how heavy he really was. He may have been skinny, but he was also full of muscle. A squeak left your lips as your legs gave out, sending you to the dusty pavement with him on top of you, his face pressed into your chest. It was hard to breathe with his weight pressing down on you so you tried to pull yourself out from under him. This was also a failure.

"Sir, please wake up. This is not how I want to die," you cried, patting him on the back repeatedly. You were about to start screaming 'uncle' when he started to stir, lifting his head to look at you through bleary eyes. "Good morning. Well, evening, technically."

Murayama frowned, blinking a few times as his tired brain tried to process the situation.

"Um, if you could maybe get off me, that would be appreciated. I'm already late for work."

"Why am I on you?" he muttered, his voice raspy as he pushed himself off of you, sitting on the pavement and running his hand through his messy hair.

You sat up, as well, taking a deep breath. "Well, it's too hot to leave you in the car and you wouldn't wake up so I tried to carry you."

"You tried to -" He sent you a disbelieving look. "Are you stupid?"

"Only on Sundays," you winked, pulling yourself to your feet before holding your hand out to him. He hesitated, still processing the fact that you had tried to carry him rather than just leaving him, but he figured you just didn't want him alone in your car. His hand slid into your own and you helped him to his feet. "Come on, you can grab some food from the diner."

He was about to say he had no money and wasn't hungry, but his stomach refused to give him the chance, whining loudly and pitifully.

You just smiled, pulling open the staff entrance and waiting for him to follow you through. The room on the other side acted as storage, large metal shelves tightly packed together as they held various spices and dry ingredients, equipment, and whatever other junk the employees didn't know what to do with. It opened up to the kitchen, where the chef was lazily frying a burger, one hand holding the spatula while the other held a magazine about celebrity gossip. It was strange seeing an older man so interested in the affairs of stars, but you weren't one to judge other people's hobbies.

"Evening, Satori-san."

"Yup," he grunted before freezing mid-page turn, his wide eyes snapping to you. You offered him a wave and he quickly tossed the magazine behind him, straightening his back and clearing his throat. "Ah, I mean, good evening, boss! I didn't think you were coming in today."

"Boss?" Murayama muttered under his breath, taking a minute to fully look you over. You didn't look like the type to be in charge of anything and you weren't very intimidating, either.

"Well, my plans kind of fell through when Naomi decided she no longer supports music stores because they are 'pirates and schemers disguised as teenage boys who hate their life'. It was quite the breakthrough for her, apparently." You shook your head, not understanding your friend's antics. "Anything to report?"

"No, boss! Everything has been smooth as butter, boss!"

You nodded, smiling brightly at him. "Thank you for your hard work, Satori-san. If you'll excuse us." You waved at him again before continuing through the kitchen.

Murayama followed you, watching the man release the breath he was holding before realizing the burger was burning. "Idiot~"

You glanced at him over your shoulder. "Did you say something?"

"No."

With a shrug, you unlocked your office and stepped inside. Although you hadn't shut the door or told him not to follow you, he felt a little weird about it so he opted to just stand in the doorway, watching you as you searched for something. "Aha!" You tugged a tan apron from one of the bottom drawers in the filing cabinet, a grin on your lips at your accomplishment.

"Don't you own this place?"

"I do. What about it?" You tilted your head at him as you pulled the apron over your head, wrapping the strings around you.

"Why would you serve people when you're the owner?" His nose wrinkled at the thought. "Isn't the point of being the boss so you don't have to do stuff like that?"

"I suppose for some, yes, but I started this diner because I enjoy serving people." You shooed him from the office before leading him through the kitchen and out into the diner itself. "Have a seat wherever you want, look over the menu and I'll be right with you."

Murayama nodded, stepping around the counter before looking around the diner. There were only two other patrons - an old man sitting at the end of the counter reading a newspaper and a couple of travelers sitting in a booth at the back of the room. He chose to sit at the counter, a few seats down from the old man.

Gloria, the seventeen-year-old you employed as a waitress, was sitting on a stool in front of the register, her chin resting against her chest as she napped. It looked quite uncomfortable and you worried about her falling onto the floor so you gently shook her awake. She blinked, rubbing at her eyes and complaining about being woken up until she realized who stood before her. She jumped up so quickly that she knocked over the stool.

"G-Good morning, boss!"

"It's evening," you chuckled, picking up the stool.

"Right…"

After refilling the older gentleman's coffee, you approached Murayama with a smile. "Have you decided what you want?"

He was tempted to say everything because he was starving but he also had no money. He contemplated it for a moment, thinking about just dining and dashing, but he restrained himself, propping his cheek in his hand and looking at you blankly. "I have no money."

Your smile didn't drop. "I kind of figured that. Don't worry, it's on the house."

He frowned, glancing around at the empty diner before leaning forward. "You sure you can afford that? Business isn't exactly booming, ne?"

"We're not the most popular because we're in the middle of nowhere, but we make enough to get by. Lots of tourists getting lost around here. Thank you for your concern, though!"

"I wasn't even concerned," Murayama huffed, looking back down at the menu. "Omelette rice."

"Okay!" You turned around and headed back into the kitchen.

Murayama thought you were strange. Or stupid. Maybe a bit of both. Not only had you picked up a total stranger off the side of the road, you also tried to carry said stranger, brought said stranger into your business, and now you're feeding said stranger without charging him a cent. You were too generous for your own good and he honestly kind of hated it. A part of him was grateful, though. If not for you, he'd probably be unconscious right now, frying like an egg on the side of the road. He couldn't help but wonder how many times you had been taken advantage of, though.

"Ta-da~" you set a steaming plate of omelet rice in front of him and a glass of coke. "Enjoy!"

His mouth watered, his stomach whining as the scent of the food reached his nostrils. He grabbed the spoon and threw whatever manners he possessed out the window, scarfing the food down as if he hadn't eaten in years. You found it adorable, but Gloria sent him a disgusted look.

"Boss, why did you bring back a monkey?"

You hummed thoughtfully. "He needed help. And he's cute, don't you think?"

"Not really."

Murayama burped as he set the empty plate down, pieces of rice stuck to the corner of his mouth. You resisted the urge to wipe the food away by ringing up the older man, thanking him for his patronage and wishing him a good day. For a while, he just watched you as you went around the diner, cleaning and tending to the few guests that came and went throughout the day. Then he got bored and tired, settling himself into a corner booth for a nap and that's where he stayed until it was time to close. As always, you were the last person left in the diner and once you were done with your paperwork, it was time to wake him up.

You gently shook his shoulder but he didn't budge, soft snores escaping him. "Please don't make me carry you again," you pouted, nudging him a bit harder. "It's time to wake up~"

A groan passed his lips, his eyes cracking open to glare at you. "What?"

"The diner's closed."

Through blurry eyes, he sat up and looked around the diner to confirm what you said before sighing, running his hand through his hair. "I'll leave then."

You frowned, stepping back when he pulled himself up from the booth. "I can take you wherever you need to go."

He looked at you over his shoulder, eyes narrowed. Were you really this kind? Or did you have an ulterior motive? "My bike ran out of gas and I missed my job interview."

"Eh? You didn't mention an interview! I could have taken you."

"I forgot."

You sighed, heading for the door. "Let's get you some gas for your bike. Maybe you can call them and they'll understand."

"Probably not," he shrugged, following after you. The night was chilly and he shivered when the wind blew, his jacket still around his waist so that he was in only a tank top. "Why are you doing all this?"

You hummed, locking up the diner before heading for your car. "I like helping people. It makes me happy knowing I can."

"It's dangerous, ya know?"

"For the most part, my instincts are good when it comes to sensing a dangerous situation. I felt no danger from you."

He nearly laughed. No danger? He was the ex-leader of Oya high school, a man that had taken one hundred punches without bowing down. He had won dozens of battles against guys twice his size. He was the epitome of danger. Then again, Murayama Yoshiki was not such a dick that he would attack someone for no reason, especially not someone that had gone out of their way to help him.

The gas station was about a mile down from the diner and it didn't take long for you to grab a gas can and some gas before returning to the car, opening the windows so the smell didn't overpower the two of you. Since the highway had no lights, you had to drive slow so you didn't pass his bike, cloaked by the darkness of the night, and you parked in front of it so he could use the headlights of your car to see what he was doing.

Murayama fiddled with the lid of the gas can before setting it back in your car. He felt awkward but he knew he needed to thank you. Why did he feel so nervous? It was a simple 'thank you' and then he could be on his way, never seeing you again. Why did that thought bring a pang to his chest?

You pulled a pen from your pocket as you approached him. "Gimme your hand."

"What for?"

"I'm going to give you my number," you told him with a smile, reaching out to grab his wrist so you could bring his hand closer. "If they won't give you a second chance, then give me a call. I'll hire you!"

Murayama didn't know what to say, but the prospect of getting to see you again made him feel hopeful. "Sure…"

"Good night. Get home safe." You started to turn but his words made you pause.

"Murayama Yoshiki," he told you loudly. "My name."

Your smile widened. "It's nice to meet you, Murayama-san. I'm Y/N."

"Y/N," he repeated your name, tasting it on his tongue. He liked how right it felt. "Don't pick up any strangers on the way home."

"I have a one stranger a day maximum, don't worry," you chuckled, offering him a tiny wave as you returned to your car. You had offered rides to many people during your lifetime, but none were quite as interesting as he was. You really hoped you would see him again.

☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ: ⋆.:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

A week had passed since your fateful encounter with Murayama and you hadn't been able to get him out of your mind. Every time the bell would chime above the door, your head would snap up, hoping to see him only to be disappointed when it wasn't. You knew this feeling quite well - you had caught feelings for him much like you would a cold. You didn't want it, but it chose you for whatever reason and you had to deal with the aftermath. A sigh passed your lips as you tossed the dishtowel onto the counter, running a hand through your hair.

"Boss? Are you… okay?" Gloria inquired softly, almost as if she didn't want to ask.

You took a moment to compose yourself before offering her a kind smile. "I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"Well… you're sighing a lot lately."

"Am I?" You frowned when she nodded. You hadn't even realized you had been doing it. "I'm sorry. I guess my mind is just elsewhere. I'm going to take a break." You headed for the kitchen just as the bell above the door chimed, but you held back your desire to see who had entered which was harder than it should have been. You headed straight for your office, falling onto your chair with a sigh, leaning your head back to look at the ceiling. 'Why can't I stop thinking about him? I know nothing about him and yet… have I really fallen for him?'

A knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts and you sat up straight, clearing your throat before telling them to enter. You expected to see Gloria but your heart skipped a beat when the door opened, revealing Murayama Yoshiki. You tried to hold back your excitement, but a grin split your lips.

"Murayama-san, hello!"

"Hi." He stepped into the office, closing the door behind him before making himself comfortable in the chair across from your desk. "I'm here for that job."

"Of course!" You tugged up the bottom drawer a little harder than you meant to before searching through the papers there, separated by thin, cardboard dividers for organization. Producing an application, you set it on your desk with a pen. "Can you fill this out? It's just for my records."

He leaned forward to do just that and you took the time to admire him as he focused on the paper. His dark eyes framed by soft lashes, dark bags beneath them. There was a bit of grease from his bike smudged on his cheek and his hair was messy as if he had run his hand through it one too many times. A bandana sat firmly against his forehead, sitting low so that it added a shadow over his eyes, making him look more mysterious. You could see his veins through his skin as he gripped the pen, his handwriting sloppy and without much care.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" His eyes met yours and you jumped in surprise.

You tried to play it cool, moving your gaze to the papers at the corner of your desk, pretending to organize them despite them already being in their proper order. "Like what?"

"I don't know… you had a goofy smile on your face." He tilted his head to the side as he observed you, lighting tapping the end of the pen on the page. "If you have something to say, just say it."

You thought about his words for a moment before bringing your gaze back to his. "I'm really glad you decided to work here."

Murayama was surprised by the sincerity in your voice and the warmth in your eyes. Honestly, he had been putting off the decision because he didn't want to face you. He was so sure that you had just been being nice to him, taking pity on him, and didn't actually want him to work for you or see him again. Even so, he couldn't stop thinking about you and it was driving him insane, so he finally caved and came to see you. But… to see that you were genuinely happy about him being there, made his heart rate pick up and warmth flood his cheeks. He quickly ducked his head, focusing on the form again.

You didn't want to make him uncomfortable, so you fought the urge to watch him again, turning to your laptop to do some actual work while you waited.

When he finally finished, he slid it across the desk. "Are you gonna train me now or something?"

"No training necessary," you smiled at the application. "Just do what you feel is best, but please be kind and respectful to the customers."

'Kind' and 'respectful' was not something Murayama did well, but he didn't want to drive away what few customers your diner got, so he told himself that he would do his best for you. "I start now?"

"You start now!" You stood up, tugging the apron from around your neck and handing it over to him. "I don't have any spares, so you can use mine until I can get one ordered for you."

Murayama took the item from your hands, slowly standing up and pulling it over his head before he tried to tie it around his back, but it didn't seem to be working for him and he struggled for a few minutes before looking at you expectantly.

You blinked, taking a moment to realize what he was silently asking you. "Oh. Here, let me help." You approached him slowly, giving him plenty of time to step away if he was uncomfortable, but he just stood there, watching you closely as you took the strings from his hands, wrapping them around his back before bringing them around the front and tying it into a bow. "Is that too tight?"

"No."

"Good." You looked up at him, catching his eyes. Both of you seemed frozen in time, staring deeply into each other's eyes as if the rest of the world no longer existed. And honestly, neither of you would have cared much if the world ended at that moment. All that mattered was the person standing in front of you.

Murayama leaned closer, his breath fanning against your face as his hand reached for the side of your neck. "I want to kiss you."

A grin tugged at your lips. "Good, because I was thinking the same thing." Your lips met his, warm and soft and stealing the breath from your lungs. You had always been a firm believer that perfection did not exist but at that moment? You were positive you had found the perfect moment, one that would be in your heart for the rest of your life.

☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ: ⋆.:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

[taeminszz]

Can I request mia being motherly and caring for all the bts members?

↳ bts 8th member au

↳ mia being bts' mom for almost 9 years 

↳ masterlist ♡  :  requests are open   i appreciate constructive criticism <3

↳ a/n: thank you so much for requesting! i hope this is what you wanted. i wrote this as separate situations as i thought it fit the best, as i couldn't think of a situation involving mia caring for all of them at once. they’re slightly shorter than i would have liked, but i can always expand them if you wish. i hope you enjoy! also, apologies for this taking so long, i had covid and then had a lot of school work to catch up on. but i’m back! (if there are any spelling mistakes or grammar mistakes, please lmk!)

also, i swore a few times in this one, apologies for that. and i made like, most of them kinda angsty, so apolgies again

Seokjin

She glanced over at Seokjin when he sniffled again, hands freezing in their place. She placed the knife down on the chopping board, placing a hand on his shoulder. He turned to her, eyes tired and nose slightly red. He was sick, and both of them knew it. He had hidden it pretty well from the boys, adamant that he would be okay. 

“Go get some rest. I’ll finish dinner and bring yours to you with some medicine and tea,” she spoke softly and with a smile, and he could only stare at her with apprehension. 

“But what about-” 

Mia raised a brow, and his shoulders dropped. He simply nodded, knowing that arguing with her wouldn’t get him very far based on the look she was giving him. He smiled back at her, thanking her quietly before making his way back to his room.

Yoongi

She knocked as loudly as she could whilst clutching two mugs of hot chocolate, a small smile forming on her lips when she heard Yoongi’s quiet response. She nudged the door open with her shoulder, shutting it with her foot before placing the mug on the desk next to him, settling in the seat next to his. He turned to glance at her, opening his mouth to speak but not saying anything. It had been a hard week; the both of them had been unable to get the album to sound how they wanted, and it had been getting to Yoongi more and more the more they tried.

“You don’t have to say anything, Yoongi,” she said softly, placing a hand over his, “just know that I’m here, and that we’ll get through this together.”

He smiled gratefully at her, shuffling his seat closer to hers to rest his head on her shoulder.

“Thank you, noona.”

Hoseok

She sighed softly the second she noticed light flooding in from under the door, placing her bag and jacket down before she opened the door, eyes immediately landing on the familiar dancing form of Hoseok. He hadn’t noticed her, far too focused on the choreography. He was, as usually, perfect, dancing gracefully to the quiet hum of music. But he was tired. Mia could see it in the way his feet dragged slightly, the way his eyes were drooped. The second he stopped moving, Mia moved from the doorway. He caught sight of her in the mirror, and a grin made it’s way onto his lip. 

“Noona! What’re you still doing here?” He tried his best to sound cheerful, but she knew better than to believe it, and she simply switched the speakers off before standing in front of him. 

“Y’know you don’t have to hide that you’re tired from me, Hobi,” she responded, watching as his eyes widened and his smile dropped slightly. “C’mon, it’s late and you’ve been practicing all day.”

She motioned towards the door with her head, and with a small amount of hesitation, Hoseok nodded in defeat before following her out of the door, picking his bag and phone up as he did.

Namjoon

“Don’t believe a word they say.”

Finally, he looked at her. She was crouched in front of his chair, holding his hands in hers, warming his cold fingers with her hot palms. He hadn’t meant to, but he’d managed to come across people criticising his leadership skills, and, thankfully, Mia had walked in before he could read anything else. 

“They can spout whatever shit they want on the internet, write their shitty articles and claim things that aren’t true, but it doesn’t matter. They don’t know you, Namjoon; they don’t know the incredible things you do for us, for ARMY. All they care about is the views they’ll garner from using your name,” she smiled up at him, squeezing his hands, “You matter so much to so many people, so please, ignore the shit people post about you, because we wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”

He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to, he simply smiled at her and moved to pull her into a silent hug. 

Jimin

She had sensed his nerves the second they had all stepped out of the car, met with screams of their names and flashes of cameras. She had grinned, turning her eyes back to Jimin, who, despite his similar grin, was fidgeting with his jacket sleeves. Mia stepped closer to his side, waving cutely to the people screaming her name as she leaned ever so slightly against him, letting him know she was there. He glanced at her, leaning down to whisper something in her ear.

“Can I hold your hand?”

Mia’s smile grew, and she silently leaned down to grasp his hand in hers, feeling him relax beside her as he squeezed her hand. It’s safe to assume that he didn’t let go for the rest of the evening.

Taehyung

She dropped the book into her lap at the sound of the door, placing her bookmark inside before she stood and made her way to the door, tugging it open to reveal a guilty looking Taehyung. He smiled at the sight of her, clutching his left hand with his right. Mia went to question him, but stopped when he began speaking.

“I cut my finger open.”

His words were sheepish, and she cracked a small smile, shaking her head softly as she exited her room and made her way towards the dining room, chuckling softly to herself. 

“What am I gonna do with you?” she questioned with a playful giggle, pulling a laugh from Taehyung, “Wait here for me, I’m gonna grab the first aid kit”

Jungkook

Mia sighed softly as she knocked on the door, leaning against the wall as she awaited a reply. The dorm was unusually silent, the boys having gone out to finish recording. Mia and Jungkook had finished the day before, so they’d had the dorm to themselves all afternoon, but she hadn’t seen him since that morning. At the sound of him allowing her in, she pushed the door open, shutting it behind her as her gaze softened at the sight of Jungkook sat up in bed, knees tucked under his chin. 

“Are you alright, honey?” 

She only ever called him honey, but even the nickname couldn’t get him to smile. Instead, he simply shook his head. Mia frowned, moving to sit next to him. He didn’t make eye contact with her, nor did he say anything, but he didn’t need to. It was just one of those days, and Mia knew that. 

“Come here.”

She whispered softly, opening her arms for him. He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her, leaning into her warmth as Mia played with his hair. 

[arty-shadow-morningstar]

My Maribat Betrothal AU: Take Two

Okay so people like that post that is more of a train wreck produced by my sleep-deprived brain. I expanded on it and added some changes. Fair warning: Most of my ML and DC knowledge came from Maribat fics, a few episodes and the DCU movies like son of Batman. I have Mari's pov and background stuff written and it needs some editing. Anyways, enjoy <3

It is not a continuation but: @alysrose-starchild, @buginetye, @lookatthestars1, @blackroserelina, @macncheesemonster, @mochinek0

[Masterlist]

(Part 2)

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

PART 1

Damian groaned.

He was not having a good day.

First, Father decided to pair him with Todd, TODD of all people, for patrol.

Second, while doing a stake-out for the warehouse near the docks which might be used as storage for criminal activity and enduring Red Hood's annoying taunts, they both were knocked out by tranquilizers and his mother's face was the last thing he had remembered seeing.

"Don't worry, little one. You are just fulfilling your duties as heir to the Demon's Head. Then, all will be perfect." She had said, just before he fully lost consciousness.

Third, he woke up to being chained up with a major headache. Taking a bearing of his surroundings, the room he was imprisoned in had two exits, an iron door and a window that had the view of his childhood home. He was dressed in wedding ensembles of the League of Shadows. Red Hood was chained up next to him as well but unlike him, still had his suit and helmet on. Glancing to the other side, he saw a raven-haired girl, chained up and dressed in the black and gold robes of a bride. She had also retained consciousness and was staring at him.

Bluebell eyes met his piercing green.

His betrothal was petite with Asian features. She had freckles dotting her button nose and rosy cheeks.

She is fragile and will break easily, he thought. Why did his mother want him to marry such a weakling?

"Savez-vous où nous sommes? (Do you know where we are?)" Her voice was sweet and trembling with fear. Her eyes were wide and seemed filled with innocence yet carrying great sadness. She was an Angel, an ordinary girl, not fit for this harsh and unforgiving world she was forcefully going to get married to.

She opened her mouth to ask another question and suddenly, she went limp, appearing to be unconscious. Damian furrowed his brows in confusion. Why did she-

A moment later, he heard footsteps approaching and the iron door opened to reveal his mother.

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

Jason woke up to the sight of the Bitch Talia and Demon Spawn, face to face, glaring at each other.

Talia broke the tense silence.

"Damian, I hope you know what you should do."

"To be forcefully married to that little girl. She is no one special. Why am I getting married to her?"

Married? The Demon Spawn is getting married?!

Jason saw through his helmeted vision, a girl about Damian's age, chained up like them but not yet awake. He raised his hand and saw the shackles around his wrists. The chains were connected to the wall. He experimentally yanked the chains, drawing Talia’s attention.

“Well, Jason, you are awake. You can be the best man for the wedding.”

“No. I don’t know what game you are playing but you better release us. B is gonna find us and you will pay. Let the girl go. She is innocent in all of this.” Jason said vehemently.

"Ladybug may not seem like it but she possesses great power that my father converted for centuries. Speaking of, she should be awake by now."

Talia stood up and grabbed Ladybug’s(?) hair and yanked so that her eyes met the girl's. The girl, who unfortunately was going to be the Demon Spawn's bride, lets out a cry and starts to tear up. Jason felt anger at how she was being treated, seeing the girl as a little sister already.

"Tch, See, she is more pathetic than I thought. She is not powerful." Demon Spawn growled out. The girl starts babbling in French. From the little French Jason knows, she was begging for mercy.

“Like I thought, weak. She is not deserving of the title of my wife.” Damian spat out.

"Appearance can be deceiving. Despite her demeanor, she is the current wielder of the Ladybug Miraculous and the Current Guardian. The old Guardian, the old fool had promised her in exchange for his protection." Talia countered, letting go of the girl.

Miraculous? Guardian? What the hell?

"That doesn't mean I want to marry her. She is not worthy of an Al Ghul or a Wayne. Look at her, crying at the slightest feeling of pain."

The mother and son begin to bicker. Damian refusing to marry and Talia trying to change his mind.

“Yes, both have to be willing to be married but the curse placed on both of you will ensure that you will agree.”

The dark haired girl had stopped crying and started whispering in a strange language when the fight started, fiddling with the silver ring she wore. Jason saw a terrifying smile crossed the face of the girl across him that chilled him to the bones. Later, a black blur came out of her robes and went through the door. He wondered if he imagined that before he was a determined glint in her eyes.

He blinked.

Talia was choking on the chains that were previously chained to the wall and were now around her neck. Fortunately for them, Talia had closed the door after her entrance and the guards most likely to be stationed outside didn’t storm into the cell. The girl whispered something in Talia's ear, making the woman's eyes widen with what could be fear.

The experienced assassin struggled to get free and gain an upper hand on the girl but was unsuccessful, passing out from the lack of oxygen and strangely strong grip of the small girl.

What happened next was surprising. She breathed hard on her shackles which instantly disintegrated into flakes of rust.

Holy Shit! Demon Spawn's girl is magic. Jason knows his mouth was hanging open under his helmet at that realization. Damian seems to be in the same state.

Talia didn't have the keys to the locks. Being crafty like that. Bitch

"Call me Lady." she said in lightly accented English as she summoned black orbs at the tip of her hands. “Stay still.”

She then proceeds to place her hands on Jason’s shackles, turning them into nothing more than specks.

"I am Red Hood." said Jason, rubbing his wrists.

"The little shit here," as he kicked Damian's leg, " is-"

"Damian Al Ghul" she said the last name with venom. She moved on to Damian's bonds. "Son of that bitch over there, grandson of Ra's, demon heir, blah blah blah. Hold still, mon mignon. I am sure you don't want to lose a hand."

Damian stopped moving at that, due to the pet name or fear Jason couldn’t tell but by the red at the tips of his ear, it could be the former. And she used her powers to free him.

Lady somehow managed to use what remained of the chains to hog tie Talia up.

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

“How do we get out?” Damian asked, inspecting the blade that he flinched from his mother.

“Hey, kit.” A nasally voice called out. “I checked out the place we are in. Like you asked. The way to the Throne room is heavily guarded and they seem to think old Ra’s the target. The Pits are guarded too but they are nothing you can’t handle.”

“What is that?” Jason shrieked.

“Thanks, Plagg, you will get that camembert danish when we get back. This is a kwami, a god of sorts and his thing is destruction so I wouldn’t insult him if I were you. He likes to go by Plagg”, answered Lady, which doesn’t clear up Jason’s confusion.

“So, Pigtails, what’s the plan?” The floating, black cat-shaped god(?) asked.

“I was thinking of destroying the Pits to give Al Ghul a middle finger and call Maman to use the Horse to get home.”

“We need Tikki to get rid of it..”

“I will just tell Maman to bring the earrings.”

Damian snorted, “That sounds like a foolish plan. You are insane and not strong enough to take on the League alone, despite having a ‘god’ of destruction at your side. This Tikki or magic earrings will destroy the Pits, many have tried. And sorry to disappoint but no horse can make it up the mountainside of Nanda Parbat.”

“Have to agree with Demon Spawn here and I rarely do that. Your plan sounds insane, Pixie. You are just one girl. Let us help, we know the League better than you. We can come up with a better one.” Jason was worried for the girl, she was crazy if she thought her plan would work.

Lady smirked, “It is a perfectly sound plan. I know what I am talking about. Despite the weak girl act, I am no Damsel in distress. After this is all over, we will split our ways and hopefully, never see each other again.”

“We can’t separate. My mother said there is a curse that will ‘make us fall in love.’” Damian said, using air quotes. “You need to come with us so we can get someone to break it.”

“Fine. But I need to do something before I am coming with you. Plagg, Claws out.”

Bright green light flashed around her and she was now dressed in a black bodysuit with green linings. It was armoured at the chest, knees and elbows. (Add whatever details you want, I can’t do it. Jacket, designs, use your imagination) Her gloves were claws-like, reminding them of Selina and there was a belt carrying some vials, pouches and throwing stars. Her hair was now longer and braided and seemed to move on its own. Cat ears were attached to her head. Her eyes were changed so the sclera were the same shade of blue as her iries and the pupils were slitted like a cat. A black domino mask framed her face. Two ten-inch daggers appeared out of thin air in her hands.

The transformed Lady did the inhuman feat of kicking the door open. The assassins stationed outside were immediately knocked out by Lady.

“Well, are you coming or not?” She called out, before running down the corridor. Jason patted his shocked brother’s shoulder, “You doing okay there, demon spawn?”

“Tch, Let’s go, Todd.” Damian replied, trying to get rid of that funny feeling in his chest.

[aenaxes]

omg!! congrats on 200!!!! 🥰🥰 ur my fav crosshair writer so: crosshair + trust, with a gender neutral reader? nsfw or not, it's up to u!! congrats again 🎉🎆🎉

kinesthesia

[crosshair x gn!reader] with precision, there is control, and with control, there is tension, not easily soothed. you take it into your own hands to prove that wrong.

warnings: nsfw, fellatio, (kind of) sub!cross

w/c: 3.0k

a/n: prince my he a r t 🥺💕 ily bb ! this was also a super fun prompt to write hehe, and look i openly accept that i’m a pillow princess bottom, but i think i would enjoy making crosshair squirm. uno reverse card on his oral fixation—mine now.

“I’m still not entirely sold on this,” Crosshair admits as he takes a seat at the edge of your bunk. His toothpick bobs anxiously between his lips, chewed down flat where his lips brush up against the bleached wood. It’s not often that this breed of restlessness finds hold: stiff shoulders and hands folded tight over his lap.

Nerves.

“That’s why we have the safeword,” you quip from across your quarters, voice rising as you struggle to twist out of your heavy uniform jacket.

(Un)surprisingly, Crosshair makes for a quick study. Beneath the stony, oftentimes sullen disposition, he’s a simple man. Of course, that simplicity didn’t necessarily limit himself from branching out into an actual person, but you could boil him down to one thing and one thing alone: control. Whether it was his genetic acuity that shaped him into the sniper persona or vice versa, control centered him, grounded him, tied him so close to his sense of duty and personhood that sometimes it was hard to tell the two apart.

So when you had offered two rotations prior to take the reins—offered both as something new and the hypothetical of release from, well, everything that kept him in a perpetually alert state of coiled tension—you honestly hadn’t expected for Crosshair to pause, rolling his toothpick thoughtfully between his teeth, and accept.

There’s certainly a part of you that hopes the manufactured brevity to your tone is enough to soothe the anxiety radiating from where Crosshair makes himself prim and small on your bed, smaller still without the bulk of his dark armor weighed over his shoulders. But, against your better judgement, a low-lying anticipation simmers at the base of your lungs when you finally shuck the day’s sweat and blaster smoke to the side.

He’s seen you undone under him time and time again, beads of sweat following the smug lines of his expression as he bent you to his—and, to be entirely fair, your own—pleasure. And as satisfying as that arrangement has proven itself to be, curiosity has always been that single, nagging vice at the back of your head.

Who can blame you for wanting a taste?

“You remember it, right?”

“Yeah,” he says, and you catch the heavy dregs of uncertainty (perhaps even bashfulness, ha) dragging at his voice.

“Then say it,” you prod. You gently nudge the point of your knee up against Crosshair’s calf and offer him a mirthful glance. And when that doesn’t seem to banish his withering hesitance, you drop down onto the bunk beside him, grasping his hand in yours and squeezing snug.

“I—” he clears his throat with a soft wince: embarrassment. “I don’t think I’ll need it.”

“Cross,” you warn. Because if you were going to do this, you were going to do this right.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters under his breath, scrubbing his palm over the highest points of his cheeks. You wonder if the warmth over his cheeks is the same as your own, desirous and shy as you venture into those dark, uncertain places hand in hand. “Tooka, happy?”

“Very happy,” you grin, and you lean close to press a quick peck to the corner of his mouth.

Crosshair leans towards you, lips parted to chase your touch, more, more. But he’ll have his fill, and you’re quick to dart away, leaving him even more disoriented than he already is, all wide eyes that seek you like fading light.

You’re tempted to indulge him because it’s not often that he looks like a kicked loth cat (and he does a damn good impression when he does). But you manage to stuff down the creeping sympathy, opting instead to reach into the pocket of your trousers and produce a well-worn headband.

“Please tell me that’s not Hunter’s.” The rosy edge of desire vanishes from Crosshair’s voice as he catches sight of the broad black swatch of fabric in your palm. In its place, the testing edge of judgement so often home in Crosshair’s snide play.

“Ew, no—what? That’d be weird. And gross. Who do you think I am?”

That seems to do what your previous efforts could not, and your heart jumps when Crosshair responds with a soft snort and shrugs. He’s not resentful, not in the slightest. It’s just trepidation, jumping into uncharted waters with nothing but the trust that your hand, snug over his, would hold fast.

But the laughter settles, drawing back to reveal something that hums quiet between the small eternity between you. Even with your thigh pressed close against Crosshair’s own, you feel him drawing away, hesitant and wanting all at once. You gently pull his hand between you, squeezing once.

“Trust me?” you murmur.

Crosshair offers you a tremulous look, more nervous than apprehensive. You suppose it’s only fitting of him that relinquishing his steady grip over control might be more appealing in concept than on the eve of practice. Nonetheless, when you meet his gaze, you find the kind of uncertainty that heralds excitement, careful but enamored all the same. He nods.

“Then let me take care of you.”

Finally, as you raise your hands to his temples, pressing the dark fabric over his eyes, the tension pulls away from his coiled muscles, dropping his shoulders and bowing his head as you reach around him and tie a knot over the back of his silvery hair. He exhales long and slow as the knot settles snug over his scalp, warmed by the creases left behind by your fingertips and the sudden comfort yet complete unpredictability that shrouds his senses.

Testing the waters, you bring one hand to his cheek, just barely ghosting your fingertips over the lean lines of his jaw, and you are rewarded with a full-bodied shudder that shocks through Crosshair’s form as his lips gently part around his toothpick. Without that precious ability to see, he sits in your palm at your every whim.

You lean forward, gently biting your teeth around the tapered free end of his toothpick, and you feel him swallow hard when you free it from his mouth and drop it to the floor.

“Trust me.”

Chest heaving, he nods again.

“Safeword?”

This time, there is no snark to accompany a begrudging response. “Tooka.” Instead, his voice dips breathy and low between the long breadths between his soft exhales, his beating heart.

“Good boy.”

You surprise yourself at how natural the praise feels, rolling from your tongue and rising over the ambient hum of the ship around you. It fills your chest with something like affection, bordered pride that only swells as you watch him shudder, his lips parting just a little wider to pass that barely-there whimper riding on his exhale.

The hard planes of his body, that star map you’ve committed to the deepest parts of your heart, are familiar terrain under your skin as you flatten your palms over the sharp jut of his collar and travel lower. You pause the heels of your palms over the base of his ribs, pressing softly against the quickening rise and fall of his chest. Satisfaction curls sweet and rich over the tip of your tongue as his stuttering inhale shifts the air around you.

With slow, firm force, you push him backwards onto the bunk, Crosshair’s elbows catching his slow descent over the dark grey sheets until finally drops his head back onto the firm mattress. His chest heaves.

Your fingertips pass over the sinew and soft scar of his abdomen, chasing how his breathing expands from his chest and leaches tension over the length of his torso. You’re certain this isn’t new, not when your intimacy has you stealing the other’s breaths between stuttering gasps. But to feel it under your palms, thrumming and deep—it sets your nerves on fire.

Control. It’s wholly and entirely yours.

You still as the pads of your fingers catch the faint ridge of his waistband. And a part of you is smug with the power of reversal, that it wasn’t Crosshair offering you a knowing smirk as he parted your thighs and pressed close, that it was you, privy to only the deepest intimacy Crosshair could offer.

But it’s exactly that which keeps the power from rushing to your head, stymying the teasing mischief for something warm in your stomach when you trail lower and gently cup over the straining bulge in his blacks. And it grows fonder when Crosshair’s legs jerk with a labored puff of breath, the same one he breathes into your ear when he finally pushes up deep inside you and presses his skin close against yours. He whines, a straining, soft noise through his bitten lips, and you’ve teased long enough.

Crosshair makes a soft noise, somewhere between a gasp and a whining moan, when you finally hook your fingers over the hem of the dark fabric and expose the curved strain of his cock. He’s so open, you think as you reach forwards (though, you suppose being deprived of the one sense that reigned king would do that to you).

You don’t need to be able to see the half of his face rising above the bridge of his nose to envision the soft knit of his dark brows, eyes squeezed shut and lashes fluttering with every soft noise that passes his lips. You don’t need to see the half of his face bound under that broad swath of fabric to envision how his expression breaks from restraint to unbridled euphoria when you trace the edge of your nail down the underside of his cock.

“Please,” you think you hear him whisper past a breathy moan.

Whatever he might have had prepared, the whole gamut of biting, bratty demand to wide-eyed pleas, tumbles back into his throat when you finally climb onto the bunk by his hips, lick the flat of your tongue over your palm, and wrap it snug around the middle of Crosshair’s cock. Instead, you watch with a satisfied awe as he jerks up into your touch, spit-slick lips parted in a silent cry.

“You want my hand or my mouth?” you croon, pumping slowly from the thick base of his erection to the ruddy tip. You want him to feel every quiver of your touch as you run your thumb over the pearly drop of precome beaded at the crown of his cock, reveling in his shudder beneath you. You want to be the only thing he feels.

“Mouth,” he chokes out. “Please.”

“You’re so polite today,” you muse, reaching up with your free hand to rub your thumb over the plush bitten skin of his bottom lip. Emboldened, you slip your finger past his lips, grazing over his teeth as you push the pad of your thumb over his tongue, all the while slowly working your hand over his cock. “The good boy gets what he wants, then. Right?”

For a brief moment, something like disbelief occupies the warm air between you—you, amazed at how easy it is to hold the reins tight; him, stunned that somehow, you in control was as good, if not better, than being the commandeering weight to push your face into the pillows.

Crosshair nods, trembling as you squeeze softly over the base of his cock.

“I need to hear it, mesh’la.”

The last line of his restraint crumbles at the sound: one only ever given from him to you, yet suddenly brought back to him with the full brunt of lust, affection, the secret words you’ve come to call your own. Crosshair bucks up into your hand with a low groan, gasping soft and breathy when you slip your thumb from his mouth and hold him down to the mattress.

“Yes, please.”

You smile and dip low.

Unlike the slow deliberation of your earlier touch, you seal your lips over his ruddy cockhead with one smooth motion, pressing your tongue flat against the underside and hollowing your cheeks. And the heady taste of salt, of trembling anticipation, of him, only sweetens when you flick your eyes up to catch Crosshair tip up his chin, dig his heels into the mattress, and sob.

You sink his cock deeper into your mouth, achingly slow while you continue to work your fist around the base of his cock, and close in a way that coaxes soft, whimpering noises from his lips as he turns his head and clenches his jaw.

Flicking your eyes upwards, a pang of regret shocks through your chest that you aren’t able to see Crosshair come undone from the slightest of touches, tame in comparison to some of your particularly energetic nights. But you do away with the thought as quickly as it comes as his blunt cockhead brushes over the back of your tongue.

His pleasure has always been yours, yours his, you think as you pull back, just until your lips part around the tip of his cock while he shifts and gasps beneath you. You’ll have your turn soon enough.

Before you can sink back down, swallow him as deep as you can, the air by your cheek shifts, and expecting the worst, you lift your chin. But where you expected some stifled yellow light, Crosshair’s fingers feel blindly around you until they find purchase over your cheek. His relief is palpable as his stuttering touch curls over your skin and holds you close.

You smile.

“Trust me?” you ask again, your lips mouthing softly over his cock, catching thick smears of precome over your skin.

“I trust you,” he whispers.

Crosshair cries out, hoarse and as loud as he’s been all night, as you drop your mouth near-midway down the straining length of his cock in one motion, lavishing your tongue under his pulse. His hand tenses over your jaw, blunt nails digging light into your skin as his fingers curl with that bone-deep shock of pleasure. And if the breathy, desperate noises he whimpers into the alcove of the bunk are of any indication, you have a good feeling he’ll want to do this again.

You moan around him in answer. It doesn’t matter to you that his brothers might hear, only a few panels of durasteel away and connected by the reverb of a narrow ship corridor. They probably do hear, but all that matters now is Crosshair, coming impossibly more undone under your tongue as he runs his trembling thumb over the skin of your cheek.

His hips buck up towards you, catching the back of your throat with a soft sting that reaches your nose. If you weren’t so desperate, you might have pinned him down harder or pulled away entirely to let him think about what he had done. But as much as you want to chase this power play, hearing him lose himself to you has you desperate for his touch.

You follow him with every uneven jerk and thrust up into the wet heat of your mouth, letting him take his fill. You simply stroke firmer as his skin warms over your tongue. It’s all so hot, the air heady and thick as you breathe in sharp through your nose and lean into his palm, and you wonder what it feels like, anchored to nothing but you, his sole light in a world gone dark.

His motions fall uneven, his hips twisting against your touch, his breaths becoming deeper, louder as they bounce over the steel ceiling overhead. He’s close.

You twist your fist over his cock, redoubling your efforts. You sink down so far over his cock that your eyes water as you crush the head up against the back of your throat. Heavy and thick, it muffles down a soft gag for you—it’s the deepest you’ve ever taken him. Crosshair notices, and he nearly wails.

He’s been good, you decide as you all but choke around him. He can take that coveted control back. You gently rub his hand, unspoken assent, and his hand slides up your jaw to finds purchase at the back of your head to fuck you down onto him in earnest.

And you take it, eyes blurring with tears and shallow inhales through your nose, holding still and letting him fuck over your tongue until he’s taken his fill. It doesn’t take long for him to spill down your throat, a low, hoarse groan passed between his lips as you struggle to breathe between every dutiful swallow of his thick come down your throat.

“Good boy,” you rasp as you pull the blindfold from over his head.

Crosshair meets you with unfocused eyes, full of wonder and a shaky haze that finds focus on you alone in the low light. Over the ache in your knees, you crawl up to meet him, collapsing down beside him with a soft sigh. He meets you with habit, practiced and true as he tips down his chin and presses his lips to yours, tasting himself on your skin when he swipes his tongue over your lip.

“How was that?” you whisper, breathing soft over his lips.

You tilt your head up enough to catch your nose over Crosshair’s. He still meets you with that same stupor, but you see it begin to mellow into something other than the shock of enjoyment in submission in a man who has only ever known control to be his. It’s quiet and raw, splitting open your chest with that rare kind of warmth that the broad expanse of space and war leave little space to grow.

Yours, whispered and cradled close between your beating hearts, yours alone.

“I’ll remember the safeword,” Crosshair says finally, his voice distant and soft as he still rises out of the aftershocks of his orgasm. But in that weary daze, you catch the rosy relaxation, vulnerable and yet increasingly less rare in your palms. Relief, pride, joy, honeyed goodness rises to the apples of your cheeks at the sound.

“I still think I won’t need it, though.” And you both laugh, curling close.

[mizunetzu]

Heyo!! Can I request a Kuroo x male reader, where yn goes to give him a love letter one day, but he sees him with his new girlfriend??? And he’s like-sad and he tears up the note and he moves on??? But then one day kuroo asks to talk to him, and he confesses to reader, but since reader already moved on he doesn’t accept??? Angsty ending if you will 💔💔💔 thank you, Mr. Mizunetzu !!

Hi paola ily paola hee hee

——————

Kuroo x reader - you did once...

⚠️Warnings - Kuroo gets a gf, angst, not so much of a good ending?

Pronouns- male, he/him

You can find part two here!

——————

“(Y/n), can I talk to you real quick?”

(Y/n) looked up from adjusting his loose kneepad, and wiped a bead of sweat rolling off his face. He turned his head to his teammates still on their diving punishment, and looked back at Kuroo. They just lost to another school again, but he got his punishment done rather early. “Mm? Okay..?”

He rose to his feet, following Kuroo out the gym door. The walk to a secluded place far, far away from the main gym was silent and awkward, not to mention suspicious. If Kuroo wasn’t one of his good friends, he would’ve thought he was about to be kidnapped. Or murdered.

Eventually, they stopped where the fenced pathway met the grass. Kuroo stopped ominously, further proving (Y/n’s) ‘serial killer’ theory. He turned around, facing (Y/n), and leaned on the railing.

(Y/n) stiffly held his hands behind his back. “So...” he rocked on his heels, trying to seem as casual as possible. “...what did you...need...?”

He was met with no response. Kuroo, instead, gripped the railing tighter, his knuckles turning a pale white. His eyes were downcast and he was sweating like crazy. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.

(Y/n) stepped forward and crouched down, so he could see Kuroos face behind the mop that was his hair. He rested his palms on his knees, trying to decide what to say.

“...I...think your hair looks nice...today...”

If it’s one thing he hates, it’s awkward silence. Not to mention the suspense of waiting on someone to say someone possibly life changing. I mean, why else should he drag him out miles away from the gym during training camp?

“Uh-If we don’t hurry up, we’re gonna miss our next match-“

“I need to get something off my chest.”

(Y/n’s) throat closed up. It was simple. The secluded area, Kuroo flushed face, fiddling and chipping the rust off the railing. He didn’t know how he didn’t see it before. He’s been in this situation plenty of times, with girls he can’t even remember the face of. But oh how much he’d love to be in this situation a few months ago.

————

‘Just do it. just do it. God, just do it. Worse comes to worse, he’s straight. It’s not like he’s the type of person to de-friend someone because they like them!’

(Y/n) gripped the white envelope behind his back harshly, crinkling it on the corners. It had a red, heart shaped sticker on the seal flap, with the words ‘To Tetsu’ written in dark pink across the back.

Both Karasuno and Nekoma were bidding their new friends goodbye, all scattered across the parking lot of Karasuno. (Y/n) paced around awkwardly, looking for Kuroo’s familiar mop of black, messy hair. He was nervous, to say the least. Very nervous.

“Ne, Kenma,” (Y/n) placed a sweaty palm on Kenmas handheld game, pushing it down lightly and forcing him to look up.

“Mm.”

“Have...have you seen Tetsurou? I need to give him something.”

Kenma hummed in acknowledgment, and nudged his head to the side. Sure enough, Kuroo was there, off in the distance and talking to someone he couldn’t make out. His back was facing towards them, and his hand was on his hip. (Y/n’s) heart pounded even more.

“Th..an..k...y-you...” (Y/n) gave a lopsided, very stressed out smile, and limped his way over to Kuroo. Kenmas eyes were drawn to the extremely obvious love-letter being wrinkled by (Y/n’s) sweaty hands. He pursed his lips.

He then looked up to the petite girl chatting with Kuroo. It wasn’t visible in (Y/n’s) line of sight, but it was to Kenma. He almost felt kind of bad.

(Y/n) stopped dead behind Kuroo, his eyes fixated on the ground as he ran through his memorized confession for the millionth time that day. He tapped on his shoulder, keeping the letter flush against his back with his other hand.

Kuroo turned around, and that was when his eyes landed on the brown-haired girl wearing an obviously oversized Nekoma jacket. From context of the scene, (Y/n) supposed it was Kuroo’s. He gripped the letter tighter.

The girl walked forward and extended her hand out. Her bubbly aura practically suffocated (Y/n). “Hi! You must be ‘(Y/n)’. Tetsu was just talking about you! You two are like—buddy buddies right?”

‘Tetsu.’ That was (Y/n’s) nickname for him. Only he got to call him ‘Tetsu’...and who gave her the right to call him by his first name?

(Y/n) glanced at Kuroo. Kuroo shoved his hands into his pocket and grinned. It wasn’t his usual shit-eater smirk, rather a genuine, lovesick dopey smile. A smile (Y/n’s) never seen before, not directed at him at least. It was a sight he wanted to burn into his mind, but at the same time, he wanted to slap that smile right off his face.

“(Y/n), this is Yumi-chan. She’s our new manager.”

Kuroo stepped behind Yumimite, and draped his arms around her dainty shoulders.

“She’s also my new girlfriend~”

“Oh-hush it, you!” Yumimite turned around and berated Kuroo with small punches, earning a playful chuckled from the Kuroo. (Y/n’s) grip on the wrinkled letter loosened.

“...ahaha! Congrats..! When...when did you two get together?” If (Y/n) was good at anything, he was good at pretending to be interested in something. Maybe he should’ve joined the drama club instead of the volleyball club.

“Mm. We got together just last week. She gave me a love letter.” Kuroo patted the girl on her head, ruffling her neat brown hair and making her blush red. It looked like it felt nice. He wondered how it would feel to have Kuroo’s undivided attention, to be pat on the head like a blushing schoolgirl. To be a small, pretty girl next to Kuroo, to have the ability to call him ‘his’. All his nervousness simmered away, replaced by a strange ache of numb.

“Well, that’s awesome dude! Honestly, I don’t know how you managed to snag a girlfriend before me...” (Y/n) slouched dramatically, quickly hooking the letter in the waistband of his volleyball shorts and tugging his shirt over it. “Especially such a cutie like her! I’m (L/n), by the way...”

Kuroo chuckled, slinging an arm around Yumimite. “Don’t go flirting with my girl now. You have plenty of girls practically throwing their panties at you.”

‘Yeah...but I’m gay, Tetsurou. For you no doubt! I-I love you-!’

(Y/n) almost wanted to yell that out. And he almost did. But he chose instead to keep silent and laugh in response.

(Y/n) bowed slightly. “Anyway, it was nice meeting you. I just wanted to say hi to Tets-uh, Kuroo...”

Kuroo tilted his head at the use of his last name, but brushed it off when Yumi hooked her arm in his. The couple bid their goodbyes, as they turned around and walked off. (Y/n) followed suite, turning around robotically and marching off.

Once he was a good enough distance away, he stopped behind a trash can and fished the letter out from his sweaty back.

He watched as the big pink words ‘To Tetsu’ bled and distort with every falling teardrop rolling down his cheeks. The water expanded and smudged the ink lighter and lighter until the words were practically indecipherable. You couldn’t tell it was a love letter anymore. Especially because (Y/n) ripped and trashed it up til it was a pile of pink and white paper shreds.

He tossed the stray flakes of soggy paper into the trash bin, watching as it fluttered and twirled tauntingly down the trash can. He quietly scrubbed at his red hot face, probably soaking his shirt with his salty tears. He rested his hands on the edges of the bin.

“Okay...” (Y/n) stretched up, spitting onto the concrete. “I...wonder...if my favorite ramen place is open...”

Strangely he didn’t feel devastated, or heartbroken at all. He just felt sort of numb. He didn’t feel the need to blast heartbreak music and cry out on his bed for hours on end. In fact, he was glad. Albeit a bit raw, and maybe a bit tired, but glad.

He got closure for the confusing feelings bubbling down his throat ever since he’d met Kuroo Tetsurou. He got his answer, and even if it wasn’t the preferred one, it was something.

The recovery process was easier than most people would think. It only took a couple long days to get him back to his prime condition. It was a given, since (Y/n) had so much other things to be worrying about. Midterms, volleyball practice, his friends. It’s a given that he would move on the things that was no longer on his priority list.

And Kuroo Tetsurou was no exception.

——

It was kind of pathetic to see such a high strung man like Kuroo so shaky and nervous. Though, he felt the same way three months ago, spending the whole golden week perfecting a letter he never got to read. What a hypocrite he was.

(Y/n) cleared his throat. “So...what did you wanna say?”

“I-just,” Kuroo swallowed thickly. “Ah-I...give me a second...”

“Okay, take you time, Kuroo~” he stood back up to his full height, and leaned on the rail across from him. It was obvious they weren’t gonna get anywhere. “So...hows ‘Yumi-chan’ doing?”

“Ah. We broke up. She’s gay. She has a girlfriend now.”

“Aw, I’m sorry. Though, good for her for snagging a girlfriend. No offense.” Kuroo mumbled out a ‘none taken.’ (Y/n) continued.

“Was that what you wanted to talk about? Her breaking up with you?”

“No! Actually, I broke up with her first. And it was...it was kinda mutual.” Kuroo sharply inhaled. “But it does have something to do with what I need to tell you.”

How could he be more obvious. (Y/n) forced a smile. It felt mandatory now. “Really? That’s interesting. Do tell.”

‘Please...Please don’t say it.’

“I broke up with her...because I had these...feelings.”

‘Please don’t say it. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to see it. I don’t want to read it. I don’t want to know it.’

“And you know how she’s gay? Well, I think I am too.”

‘No shit Sherlock. I don’t wanna hear it. You’ve been fiddling around with your hands like a schoolgirl. Stop it, so we can just be friends like we used to be. Don’t make it awkward. Don’t make me hear it. Please.’

“And...well...”

‘Don’t make me look at your crestfallen face when I say no. It’s too much for even me to handle. I don’t want to see that.’

(Y/n) knitted his eyes shut. A fierce shudder threatened to rattle him and cover Kuroo’s mouth, but he kept still, as difficult as it was. He braced for impact.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

There it was.

(Y/n) pursed his lips and let his smile finally drop. Kuroo looked up from his trained gaze on the ground, only to be met with (Y/n’s) pitiful expression. (Y/n) never saw his face go from hopeful and love struck to devastated and heartbroken so fast.

(Y/n) cleared his throat. He was going to lay him down gently if it was the last thing he did. “...uh.”

He never said it’d be easy, though.

“If it makes you feel better...I did like you once, Tetsurou.” He only used his full first name during important situations, as he switched to using his last name instead of his first a long time ago. A lump grew in Kuroo’s throat.

Kuroo jabbed at his chest exasperatedly. “T-then what’s the problem?! We both-“

“The problem is I don’t love you. Not anymore.” Kuroo fell silent. He was so prepared to do anything it took to win over (Y/n), but after standing in front of him now, it was clear. Watching as he looked down at him with a pitying expression that made his brain go numb. He would get no where if he tried.

“...a-anymore? You liked me before? When!? Why didn’t I know?!” Kuroo grasped fistfuls of his black hair, a cold sweat condensing on his forehead. He was so animatedly desperate it was kind of sad.

“Not too long ago. Though, you kept me waiting since forever. And I thought I could wait forever.” A sorry chuckle emitted from (Y/n’s) lips. “I watched you go though girlfriend after girlfriend, Tetsurou. You even introduced me to Yumimite when I was going to confess to you. How do you think that felt? Even I got tired of waiting.”

“You...you were...” Kuroo had never felt so helpless. (Y/n) shrugged.

“I would give you the love letter I wrote for you that day, but it’s in a trash can somewhere. Ripped to shreds. And I don’t remember the words I wrote. I’m sorry, Tetsurou.” (Y/n) sighed and patted Kuroo on the head.

“You missed your chance...”

Kuroo’s eyes stung, threatening to unleash hell, but he promised himself he wouldn’t cry. No matter what. Instead, he rubbed the back of his neck and stood back up.

“I never stood a chance, did i?” Kuroo chuckled. It was a sad chuckle, one that made (Y/n) want to cry aswell.

“That’s the sad part.” (Y/n) pressed his lips into a fine line, turning it into a smile conotated with pity.

“You did once.”

——————

Go sit there and stare at the wall in silence as you feel bad for Kuroo getting rejected by you. Go on, stare. Maybe then I’ll consider a part 2 (and if people comment or reblog asking for a part 2, hee hee.)