#I literally woke up barely to look at my phone notif

[hart-on-my-sleeve]

Been trying to track down Lance Russell's nose for not an insane price for a while now and I told that to Jimmy literally a few days ago... And now it popped up in my price range.

Huh... What... FUCKING HOW??? SUSPICIOUSLY being shipped from Tennessee, no less.

I guess next time I'll say I'm looking for Jamaican Summer and then see if it pops up...

[neferaskingdom]

♡ My Favourite Person | CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

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Summary: And as much as she wanted to ignore it, she knew that what she felt for him had become more than casual. [Inspired by Casual by Chappell Roan]

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Part 3 of my Is It Casual Now? series: Masterlist

The morning light was barely creeping into the room when she woke up, still nestled in Charles’ arms. His breathing was soft and steady, his face nuzzled into her neck. She’d almost forgotten how they’d ended up here—wrapped up in each other after a night of celebrations that neither of them seemed eager to end.

But her peaceful morning was interrupted by her phone vibrating almost nonstop on the bedside table. She groaned softly, trying to ignore it, but the constant buzzing wasn’t easy to ignore.

Careful not to wake Charles, she leaned over and grabbed her phone, only to see her group chat blowing up with notifications.

Friend 2: "Morning, mystery girlfriend. Saw the video. Care to explain all those face kisses?"

Friend 1: "So… how was your night? 😏 Don’t leave out any details."

Friend 2: "Did he put that winning energy to good use? Just saying, he looked like he had a lot to celebrate."

Friend 3: "Saw the videos. You guys definitely looked like ‘just friends’… in an alternate universe maybe."

She stifled a laugh, her cheeks heating up as she scrolled through their messages. Her friends were relentless.

Friend 1: "Are you still in his bed right now? Girl. Spill!"

Friend 2: "If I were you, I wouldn’t even be checking my phone right now. Priorities, babe."

Friend 1: "Okay, so… are you going to tell us what’s going on with you and Charles?"

Friend 2: "Girl, don’t even try to pretend! We all saw the videos."

Friend 3: "Face kisses? All over?? That doesn’t look like ‘just friends’ to me."

Friend 3: "Not to mention that ‘just friends’ don’t exactly spend the night… 😏"

She sighed, knowing they wouldn’t let it go easily. Her friends had always been relentless, especially when it came to her love life—or lack of one. She typed back a quick response.

You: "It’s not like that. Seriously. We’re just friends."

Friend 1: "Oh, just friends? Because he was all over you, and everyone saw it!"

Friend 2: "Exactly! There’s literally a thread online about how ‘in love’ Charles looked hugging you. It’s adorable."

Her cheeks flushed as she read through their messages, her stomach doing a tiny flip at the memory of Charles’ face lighting up when he’d found her in the crowd after his victory. The way he’d pulled her close, practically sweeping her off her feet, felt like a vivid, joyful blur. It had been so natural, so… right. She pushed the thought away and took a steadying breath. 

You: "No, really. He’s just… He’s just like that. He’s affectionate with everyone."

Friend 3: "Uh-huh. So why is the entire internet convinced he’s madly in love with you?"

A link popped up in the chat, and she clicked on it reluctantly. It led to a popular Twitter thread, where dozens of fans were posting clips from the day before. The first video showed Charles wrapping her in a tight hug at the barriers, his face beaming as he peppered her with kisses. She hadn’t even realized it looked that intense. But there, on the screen, it seemed undeniably intimate. They looked like they were in their own world.

You:“Come on, guys, He was just celebrating. It was a big moment.”

 she typed, trying to brush it off

Friend 1: "A big moment where he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Sure, we’ll believe that. 🙄"

Friend 2: "Have you even seen how everyone’s reacting? They’re calling you ‘Charles’ mystery girl.’ People are actually dying to know who you are."

The messages kept rolling in, and every one of her friends had something to say. She glanced at the thread again, scrolling through the comments.

Fan 1: "Did you guys see the way he looked at her? I’m deceased."

Fan 2: "Who is she, and where did she come from? Because they are TOO cute together."

Fan 3: "Charles Leclerc just won in Monaco and went straight to his girl like it was the last lap of his life."

The more she read, the more she could see why people might think there was something between them. She and Charles looked… cozy. Her cheeks warmed as she replayed their moment in her head. She couldn’t deny that the two of them together, lost in the celebration, had felt almost surreal.

But then, she shook her head, dismissing the thought. Charles was just excited. It didn’t mean anything.

You: "You guys are seriously reading too much into this. He’s just a friend. Nothing more."

Friend 3: "Right. Just friends who look at each other like they’re the only people on earth."

Friend 2: "Just friends who also happen to be practically plastered all over each other. You’re not fooling anyone."

She let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. She hadn’t expected things to spiral like this. Her friends’ teasing was relentless, and while part of her found it amusing, another part couldn’t shake the flicker of doubt that crept in.

Could there be more between her and Charles? They’d been spending so much time together, and he did seem unusually attentive, even when he was halfway around the world. She couldn’t deny the closeness they shared, but… dating? They weren’t dating.

But when she glanced back at the video, seeing the unfiltered joy in Charles’ eyes as he hugged her, she couldn’t help but think… maybe there was something there. Just maybe.

But she wouldn’t let herself dwell on it for long. Not with her friends gleefully piling on the teasing.

You: "Okay, okay! Enough! It’s nothing serious. Just a friend who won a race and got excited. End of story."

Her friends sent back a flood of laughing emojis, followed by a slew of more questions, but she simply set her phone down, laughing to herself. 

“What’s so funny?” Charles mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. His hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction, and his pout was almost enough to make her laugh again. He nestled his face into her shoulder, his breath warm against her skin. “I’m literally right here, and you’re laughing at your phone.”

She grinned, scrolling through one last message. “Are you seriously jealous of my friends right now? I’m in bed with you, remember?”

He let out a dramatic sigh, shifting closer until she could feel his lips just grazing her neck. “But you’re not laughing with me,” he complained, a whiny edge to his voice that only made him sound more endearing. “I want all your attention, not just some of it.”

“Oh, poor Charles,” she teased, lowering her phone to look at him, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “It must be so difficult being this needy first thing in the morning.”

“Needy?” he huffed, narrowing his eyes at her, though his lips quirked with a playful glint. “You make me this way, you know. It’s not fair.”

She poked his cheek, unable to stop smiling. “How tragic. Do you want me to make it up to you?”

“Maybe,” he murmured, his eyes brightening. He reached over, snatching her phone and tossing it to the far side of the bed. With a grin, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her down and pinning her against the sheets. “No more distractions,” he declared, his tone playful but his gaze warm and intent.

“Charles!” She squirmed, laughing as he tightened his hold, a smug grin spreading across his face.

“Say I’m your favorite,” he insisted, his voice taking on that stubborn, whiny edge.

“Not a chance,” she managed, her laughter spilling over as she tried to wiggle free.

He only raised an eyebrow, smirking as he started tickling her sides. “Then I’ll just have to keep this up.”

“Alright, alright!” she gasped, breathless with laughter. “You’re my favorite!”

He grinned triumphantly, loosening his hold but keeping her close. “See? Was that so hard?”

She rolled her eyes, still catching her breath. “You’re insufferable.”

“You love it,” he whispered, his face just inches from hers, eyes shining with affection.

“Maybe,” she admitted softly, reaching up to trace a finger along his jaw.

Without another word, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a slow, gentle kiss that melted away any lingering teasing. His hand slipped to her cheek, his thumb brushing her skin as he deepened the kiss, warmth and affection replacing all the playfulness from a moment before.

When they finally pulled apart, he pressed his forehead to hers, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Now, that’s how you start a morning,” he murmured.

She chuckled, her fingers playing with his messy hair. “You’re way too pleased with yourself, you know that?”

He grinned, pulling her even closer. “Just happy to have you here.”

After Charles left for his next round of races, life in Monaco settled back into its usual rhythm. The mornings felt quieter without him there to pull her back into bed, and her evenings held a little less warmth without his familiar presence beside her. Still, she filled her days with work, nights with friends, and tried not to think too hard about how easily she missed him.

Charles, however, was determined to make his absence less noticeable. His texts came in constantly—quick messages about his day, random pictures from the track, and even the occasional food pic with captions like, Would be better if you were here to share it.

He called often too, squeezing her into his schedule no matter how busy he was, even if just to say a quick goodnight. But sometimes, especially late at night, his voice would soften over the phone.

“I miss having you around, you know,” he’d say, a hint of a sigh slipping through. “Got so used to having you in my bed, it feels weird to sleep alone now.”

She’d laugh, leaning back in her own bed, wishing he were there to say it in person. “Is that so?” she’d tease, although his words always made her heart flutter a little.

“Yes, it’s terrible,” he said one evening, his voice warm and familiar in her ear. “I’ve been lying here, missing everything about you—your smile, that cute little laugh, even the way you take up half the bed.”

“Excuse me? I do not take up half the bed,” she protested, grinning to herself.

“Oh, you absolutely do. And you’re a pillow thief, by the way,” he shot back playfully.

“Pillow thief?” she scoffed, a laugh slipping out. “I’m pretty sure you’re the one who steals all the blankets. How many times did I wake up freezing because of you?”

“Okay, maybe that happened… once or twice,” he admitted, chuckling. “But you didn’t mind, did you? You’d just scoot closer.”

“Maybe,” she replied softly, feeling a warmth spread through her. “Guess you’ll just have to keep missing me then.”

He chuckled, the sound low and full of affection. “I don’t like it,” he murmured. “I think about it way too much, actually… how much I miss having you here.”

The conversations always left her smiling, wrapped in a warmth that kept her thoughts drifting back to him more often than she cared to admit. But every so often, reality would remind her what this was supposed to be—light and casual, no expectations or promises. She tried to keep that in mind, even when he’d text her goodnight with a little heart emoji or send her random selfies, always making sure to stay connected in a way that seemed more than just casual.

One afternoon, scrolling through her social media, she stumbled upon a clip from Charles’s latest interview. Her curiosity piqued, she clicked on it, smiling to herself as she settled into the couch.

The interviewer was smiling, a teasing glint in her eyes. “So, Charles,” she began, leaning in conspiratorially, “there’s been a lot of talk about this mysterious someone you’ve been spending time with in Monaco. Is there a new girlfriend in your life? Will she be at the next race?”

At the mention of girlfriend, her heart skipped, a quiet, hopeful anticipation rising within her. She watched Charles’s reaction closely, waiting to see what he would say.

Charles chuckled, brushing off the question with an easy smile. “Oh, no, nothing like that,” he said lightly. “She’s just a really close friend.”

She blinked, feeling her heart sink just a little. The words just a friend echoed in her mind, leaving a faint sting that she hadn’t expected. She took a steadying breath, reminding herself not to read into it. After all, they’d never defined what they were, and she knew he didn’t mean to hurt her. They’d both agreed to keep things casual, to take it day by day without complicating things.

But as she replayed the clip, she couldn’t deny the tiny pang of disappointment gnawing at her. She tried to brush it off, telling herself she was being silly—after all, they hadn’t talked about being exclusive, and they’d never put a label on whatever this was between them. She hadn’t even thought she wanted one until now, but his words left her feeling strangely empty.

Later that night, as she lay in bed, she tried to shake off the ache. When he called, his usual cheerful voice greeted her, and she did her best to sound normal, even though the thought of just a friend lingered at the back of her mind.

“Hey, you,” he said warmly. “What’s my favorite person up to?”

She bit her lip, feeling the familiar warmth of his words soothe some of her unease. “Oh, you know,” she replied, trying to keep her tone light. “Just laying here, missing my favorite blanket thief.”

He chuckled. “Ah, so you finally admit it—I am your favorite.”

“Don’t get too cocky,” she shot back playfully, though there was a softness in her voice. “I still haven’t forgiven you for stealing my blankets.”

“Is that right?” he said, his voice dropping to a teasing murmur. “Guess I’ll just have to come back and make it up to you.”

She felt her heart skip a beat, imagining him back here with her. “Hmm, that sounds promising,” she teased, though her words held an honesty she hadn’t intended to let slip.

He paused, his voice softening. “I do miss you, you know. life just isn’t the same without you.”

His words tugged at her heart, leaving her conflicted all over again. She wanted to believe he felt the same way she did, but his casual dismissal earlier had planted a seed of doubt, one that made her wonder if she was letting herself fall for someone who wasn’t ready to catch her.

As they continued talking, she found herself drifting back to his earlier words in the interview, that easy laugh as he brushed off their connection as something platonic. And even though she tried to push it away, a small part of her couldn’t help but wish he’d called her more than just a friend.

When their call ended, she lay in the darkness, staring at the ceiling, her mind a tangled mess of emotions. She tried to remind herself that they were both free to come and go as they pleased, that neither of them had promised anything more than companionship and a little fun. But her heart had other ideas, leaving her to wrestle with the unsettling feeling that she was beginning to care far more than she should.

And as much as she wanted to ignore it, she knew that what she felt for him had become more than casual.

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[ellielatinagf]

Lacrosse!Ellie Part 2

Summary: after meeting that mysterious girl who had your heart and stomach in knots, you find a way to get closer to her

Warnings: mild profanity,

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4

*follow*

You finally hit the follow button. After what felt like hours of just stalking the girls account. You thought about meeting her, but after your encounter with her the other day it felt pretty awkward and you didn’t want to seem to eager.

*Elli3mfwilliams started following you*

*new message*

Ellie: heyy

She was fast with it. You literally just started following her and she texted you??

You: hii

*seen just now* thank god she must be a fast replier

Ellie: how’d you find me?

You: Dina gave me your account. Is that okay?

Ellie: of course babes

Oh god that nickname. Does she know what she’s doing? Does she know the way your stomach churns at the name and even wanting to turn itself inside out? Wait is she even gay?? What kind of question is that, one look and you can already tell she practically worships women. You tried to think of a way to get closer to her

You: are you any good at math?

Ellie: math genius

You: do you think you can help me? Like study and stuff

Ellie: sure I got you. Wanna meet up this weekend at the coffe shop by school?

Ugh, this weekend? It’s only Tuesday, this weekend is forever away…

You: sure!

Ellie: alright then, see ya later babe

You turned off your phone and placed it on your night stand. You laid on your bed and stared at the ceiling. You basically made a date with Ellie. Sure you two barely knew each other but it was better than nothing. You knew you liked women. You hadn’t exactly dated a woman but anytime you saw a pretty woman you just knew you liked them.

You woke up the next morning to your alarm clock throwing a tantrum on the drawer. You decided to get a little dolled up today. Maybe you just felt in the mood. Your humming to the song playing on your speaker was interrupted by the notification in your phone

*Dinasaur calling*

“Oh shit” You Said Running out of your room grabbing your backpack and rushing outside. You climbed in Dina’s car with half your makeup applied.

“Girl we’re gonna be late!” Dina complained “wait a minute why are YOU looking all pretty?” Dina asked smiling. You giggled and pulled down the passenger mirror to apply your lip gloss.

“I dunno just wanted to I guess” you smirked. Dina didn’t buy, but she didn’t push you. You both sang songs as she drove to school.

“Sooooo have you made any plans this weekend?” Dina asked as you both walked to your classes. Does she know? Did Ellie say something? I mean, it was Dina’s fault you got to talk to Ellie..but still.

“Uh yeah” you said trying to be general and not give hints.

“Ugh! Oh my god Y/n tell me what happened with you and Ellie!” Dina giggled grabbing your arm. You smiled rolling your eyes. Of course she knew. She’s your best friend. What DOESNT she know?

“We’ll nothing really…” You said. You wished something happened “we’re just meeting up for a coffee study this weekend”

“Lame!” Dina exclaimed “your telling me she didn’t fall to your knees and beg you for your hand in marriage?”. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Nope. Shocking right?” You replied. The two of you laughed a storm. Dina squeezed your hand goodbye and you both parted ways to go to class. Pre-calc . You hate pre-calc. You basically dragged your feet to class. Your foot missed the next step and before you knew it you tripped and hit your nose on the floor.

If this were anyone else you probably would be laughed. It’s a guilty pleasure. But you groaned and just before you pull yourself up, you feel a pair of hands on your shoulders.

“You okay babe?” You knew that raspy voice. You looked up to meet a pair of green orbs staring at you. A pair of pink lips smiling at you. The embarrassment hit you like a punching bag your cheeks felt warm and turned pink.

“That was an interesting fall ” Ellie chuckled.

“Ha..sorry.. I mean thank you.” You smiled getting back on your feet “I’m fine, thank you”

“No problem babe. We still on for coffee this weekend?” She asked

“Yeah of course” you replied

“Great, I’m looking forward to it. Bye babe. Oh by the way, you look good today”

“Thanks…bye ellie…” you Said waving bye and watching the gorgeous god sent woman leave. Her backpack had space pins on it. Cute. Wait, she said she was looking forward to it. To you. She wants to see you. Oh god. You hated her. Why is so so damn perfect? She’s making you go crazy. That stupid gorgeous nerd.

So excited for the next one omg. Don’t worry there’s gonna be a LOOOOOOTTTTT of fluff trust me loves. Love you thanks for reading! Free Palestine 🇵🇸

@bready101

Dm or reply if you wanna be tagged!

[hischierswhore]

FOR THE BETTER | chapter 3

✰ warnings: none!

✰ nat’s note: i know this lowkey sucks, but IN MY DEFENSE, i was sick. anyways the rest of this story will be continued through insta au’s so keep an eye out for those!!!!!

The morning after the gala, you woke up to a few notifications from Instagram. One in particular stood out to you, it being a message request from Dawson Mercer. Quickly accepting the request to see what he had said, you noticed almost immediately that his text was in regards to none other than Nico. 

“Hey Y/n. It’s Dawson, we met last night at the gala. I was told to ask because a certain someone noticed how well we clicked, but Nico wanted to know if he could have your number?”

Of course. Of-fucking-course. Of course the man who had taken up your entire headspace within only minutes of meeting him was asking for your number. 

“Hey! Yeah sure, go ahead!” Your reply was just a tad bit panicked, knowing your answer but not entirely sure how to come across as calm and collected. You hit send and set your phone back down, grabbing one of your pillows and covering your face in it. 

Moments passed as you screamed into your pillow when you suddenly heard a “ding!” come from your phone. Your anxiety peaked at the exact moment the device pinged. You were scared to turn it over. 

“Get a grip, Y/n” You mentally told yourself before you reached your shaking arm over to grab your phone. 

“Hey Y/n. It’s Nico. Wanted to see if you wanted to maybe hang out today. We didn’t get to talk much last night and I wanted to get to know you” 

Now this time you had a real reason to scream into your pillow. You let out the most blood-curling scream ever, causing both Jack & Luke to rush into your room. 

“What’s going on?” Your brothers let out, trying to catch their breaths from running across the apartment. 

“Oh nothing. I just got asked on a date, no big deal” You shrugged

“You WHAT?!” Jack let out, immediately losing any last ounce of sleep he had left in him. 

“Congrats Y/n/n! I’m proud” Luke smiled as he gave you a hug.

“Luke, you aren’t going to ask who it is??? You’re just going to let her be free like that????” Jack was completely astounded by Luke’s lack of care to the situation at hand.

 “Well no, she’s grown and I think she can make smart decisions for herself and pick a decent guy” Luke shrugged. 

“Okay well, you’re not nearly as nosey as I am. Give me a name, Y/n. Pleaseeeeeeeee!” Jack pleaded with you, desperate to know the details of your newly updated love life. You battled with the decision of whether or not to tell them the truth, that it was their captain. Eventually, the internal battle ended and you just told them straight up. 

“Ehm… don’t be mad but it’s Nico…” You looked down, afraid to see their reactions. It was silent for a few moments, you just knew they were gesturing to each other about your choice. After about a minute, you lifted your head and cracked your eye open, afraid to make eye contact with either of them. You unfortunately made eye contact with Jack, and he was just staring at you with his mouth agape. 

“Didn’t see that one coming, but I think you guys would be cute together” Luke softly spoke, being as gentle as possible before Jack could say how he felt. 

“I’m not completely opposed, but if he so much as hurts you, I will literally end him. I’m just afraid of you getting with someone again, especially after how the last one ended…” Jack trailed off, his emotions truly showing. 

“Well, I’m not going to rush into anything. I barely know the guy, we spoke like - max 5 words or something last night. I’m not desperate. And the last one ended because he was a cheating asshole. I'll be fine, Jack, I promise. If anything happens, you guys will be the first to know" You reassured him, knowing how your last relationship with one of his best friends deeply affected him.

✰ taglist ✰

@lovelynikol16 @ashloveshockey @slafgoalskybaby

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and Worst of both worlds (part 7)

Tw: vomiting, sick reader, implications that the housemates r jerks before, imo boring chapter just some comfort for sickness times

Vote the poll down below n im gonna start making the next part after 20 votes

part 8

You can barely get out of bed.

That means you didn't get to clean up your post-exam clutter. Making the entire room miserable and almost unhabitable. You couldn't sleep because you had a terrible fever, needing to eat a couple of paracetamols to cool yourself down.

Anything that goes in your mouth comes back up. You wouldn't want to waste your food anymore, so you simply stopped eating.

You woke up to loud knocking, borderline banging on your door and to the voice of your housemate. She's yelling about someone being here to see you.

That can't be right. Why would anyone want to visit you? You're not asking this in a self depreciating way, but in a logical sense where you knew no one knew you're suffering from food poisoning.

Except...

Realization dawns upon you when you hear a series of softer knocks. You heard Yves's muffled voice from the outside, asking you to open the door for him.

You checked your phone. It's four in the afternoon. He should still be at the library, why is he here?

Then your focus went to the notification banner about the four missed calls he left.

"(Name)? It's Yves. You haven't been answering my calls. I'm worried about you."

The last person you want to see now is goddamn fucking Yves. Yesterday already took a toll on you, having him over is going to worsen the illness- if the fever didn't fry your brain, the stress would.

You refused to answer, covering your head with your pillow as he continued to knock.

Eventually though, he stopped. The walls are thin so you could hear him ask your housemate about you. She said you were hurling all night, keeping everyone awake. They witnessed you trying to eat a cooked packet of instant noodles, but you immediately threw it all up the moment you swallowed a forkful.

"I see." You hear him reply. "May I see the kitchen?" He asked.

She was taken aback by the request, a kitchen shared by 7 other students isn't going to be the cleanest. There was a pause before she told him that it was messy.

"That does not matter." He responded. You heard a sigh and she verbally told him to go ahead.

You're sure he knows what the condition of it is. He was there yesterday for the trash bags. You wonder what business he has there.

When you hear him walk away from your bedroom door, you force yourself and your aching muscles to creep out of your room. Planning to eavesdrop on his conversation.

"Is this all they eat?" His voice echoed through the hallway.

"Yes. I literally have never seen them eat anything else. Maybe the occasional cold pizza slice or two, but that's it. I don't think they even own a frying pan. Sometimes I wonder how that bastard is still alive." Ouch. A simple Yes would suffice. Why did she have to air your dirty laundry like that?

You heard the fridge open.

"Yeah, this was supposed to be their side of the fridge, but it was always empty. So we used it as a spare." Yves hummed in response.

You rushed back into your room when you heard his heels begin to strike the floor. Quietly shutting the door and tucking yourself into your bed.

Perhaps he's giving up, you're not coming out of your-

You stared wide eyed as the knob twisted by itself.

You forgot to lock your door. Shit, you fucking forgot to lock your door.

You heard one last set of calm knocking and Yves voice: "(name), I'm coming in."

He pushed it open and you see his tall, slender frame coming into view. His hair is flowy and luscious as usual, clear skin and pristine makeup on his beautiful face. While you look like crap. And your room looks like crap, you can barely see the floor.

You gape at the square of translucent hydrocolloid dressing on the back of his hand. Looks like his burn yesterday started to blister.

"Damn! You live like this?" Your housemate expressed her disbelief when her eyes landed on the clothes, indiscernible between used and washed, strewn all over the place. The opened drawers and stacks of empty cups.

You hid under your blanket, you told her to shut up and get the fuck out of your room.

"Alright, you're a grump cause you're sick. But just so you know, you're still on garbage duty this week." She responded.

You groan, telling her that you knew that already. You told her to go away. But she doesn't respect you, none of your housemates do.

"Could you excuse us, please?" Yves politely dismissed her. She agrees and leaves your room immediately. Yves closes the door to maintain some privacy.

You remained hidden under the sheets, not wanting him to see you so vulnerable.

"You poor thing." He sighed. You felt the bed dip as he sat on the edge. He gently peeled the blanket off your head, using the other hand to stroke your hair.

"You haven't eaten today, have you?" The fingers running through your grimy hair was... comforting. Too comforting, perhaps. You involuntarily started tearing up and crying, being reminded of a simpler time in your life. It brought back the feelings of security and safety, which you haven't felt in such a long while. You forgot how it felt, and it felt extremely good.

He stopped his caresses, but rested his hand on your scalp.

You told him you didn't mean to weep. You had no idea what has gotten into you. However, you're sure you're crying because of the state of your room and how two people had to see it- which includes someone with opinions you value very much: Yves.

He continued his affectionate touches as tears kept falling from your eyes.

No further words were exchanged between the two of you. Yves kept you company until you fell asleep from his rhythmic stroking. He pressed a kiss on your forehead before standing back up.

Yves sets his bag on your bed, he gets to work picking up stray articles of clothing from the floor. He dropped them all into your laundry basket in a messy pile.

Yves picked it up with no effort and carried it on his hip. He left your room and headed towards the basement, where the dryers and washing machines are kept. He knows where it is despite no one ever telling him.

--

You woke up with a jolt, thinking that Yves intruding your room was just a crazy fever dream.

Except, the presence of his unique luxury bag is right next to you. Scanning your surroundings, you definitely can tell Yves made his mark here.

You can see the floor again, you didn't know that it's that shiny and clean. All your clothes are missing and the corners are clear of any old trash. Everything you own is organized neatly, the shelves are displaying their respective categories in order. Your desk was wiped down and your textbooks arranged by colour.

Your room is unrecognizable, it wasn't even this nice when you first moved in.

Yves is nowhere to be found. You weakly got up and dragged yourself to the door. Locking yourself in and Yves out.

You always wondered what is in that bag. It seems to be carrying an impossible amount of items. Though, he uses a briefcase for his laptop and notes on weekdays, it's impressive that he managed to fit an umbrella in this small bag among other things.

You opened it and began rummaging through.

A lipstick, a compact mirror, disposable wet wipes, a hydrating facial spray, dry facial tissues, a hairbrush, his phone, a tin of breath mints, his oddly thin wallet- it made sense, the rich wouldn't carry around wads of cash. Only cards; An army Swiss knife, bandaids, a rectangle of a foldable grocery bag...

A set of keys attached to his car fob, a pen, some unidentifiable medication; it's printed in a foreign language, a case containing his reading glasses, another case that contains his sunglasses, portable eating utensils, a bottle of hand sanitizer, disinfectant spray, a power bank, charging cables, a portable fan, a hand fan, electronic ear buds, ear plugs...

Your jaw dropped in disbelief as you kept finding more things; perfume, a scrunchie, a couple of hair ties, sun screen, ointment, his reusable stainless steel thermal cup, lip balm, a face mask, portable paper soap, a stack of sticky notes and of course, an umbrella.

You dug deeper and found out that he's also hiding a scarf in there!

All that with heaps of space to spare, it doesn't look bulky from outside or in. You tried lifting it up by the handles, but it felt like you were trying to lift a barbell with one hand. It was bizarre how he could find what he wanted in the nick of time with all these things. Granted, it was neatly partitioned before you searched through it- oh. You messed up his system.

Shit! You're going to embarrass yourself again!

Well, you still have time. The door is locked and he isn't here yet, you could try putting it back.

You heard the door knob rattle. That must be him, he can't possibly get in right?

Your blood turned to ice when you heard the jingling of some keys. Of course, it's Yves. He would know to take your own keys with him. You heard him unlock your door.

You panicked and tried to hop out of bed, so you could barricade the door with something. But while doing so, you knocked the bag off the bed and made the contents of it spill out.

You let out a distressed yelp, his ten million things spread out all over the floor, some rolled under your bed.

"Did I startle you? I apologize." He came in with a laundry basket filled with freshly washed clothes. They're dry and warm to the touch. The basket looks noticeably clean too. Did he scrub it down? The dust and mold are gone, it went back to looking brand new.

You began apologizing, saying that you didn't mean to knock his bag down. You saw that as a potential escape from getting caught snooping around.

"No, it was my fault to leave it near the edge. It was bound to fall." He set the basket down and calmly began picking his belongings off the floor.

You let out a discrete sigh of relief. You're off the hook.

But obviously he knows what you did. His scarf shouldn't even be out of his bag, as he packed it at the bottom. His keys, lipstick and wallet should be the first to leave, yet it remained safely in the toppled bag because you flipped everything upside down while being a nosy person.

Plus, it was zipped up in the first place.

If he didn't want you peering in, he would have hidden it under your bed.

You got down on your knees and helped him collect the items. You dumped it back into the handbag, but Yves nonchalantly pulled it all back out to organize them himself.

"Thank you." He stood back up and securely placed it on your nightstand.

He turned to you and crowded you against the bed. Yves slid his hands under your chin, where the pulse is, checking your temperature by touch. You flinch and squirm because you're ticklish, but he paid no mind to it.

"You're having a fever." He noted. You release a baited breath when he lets you go, reaching for something inside his handbag.

You watch him unscrew the lid of his thermos cup. There isn't any particular Colour to the liquid. But there was a faint fruity scent emanating from it. The ice cubes bob around the mystery fluid. He also produced a metal straw which he plunged into the drink, you must have missed it when you were rummaging through.

He popped two tablets of paracetamol out of a blister pack and brought them to your lips. It's better to just let him feed you, so you took it in your mouth.

"Take small sips." He brought the straw to you.

The beverage is... salty. And sweet. It's sickeningly fragrant for a drink that's supposed to be enjoyable. Except it's not, it's an electrolyte solution he prepared to make up for the ones you lost. The coldness saved it.

You didn't realize how thirsty you were, he placed the cup in your hands before walking back to the laundry hamper. He opened a drawer and began folding your clothes into a neat stack.

You're starting to think he just likes silence. He has a perfectly functioning pair of expensive earbuds, but he doesn't use them neither does he want to initiate a conversation with you.

You put your drink away and flopped down onto your bed. You picked up your phone and decided to check your notifications.

You received a number of messages from the group chat with your housemates.

"(name) u gotta get ur bestie to visit more cuz this is the cleanest the kitchen has ever been!!!"

Attached to it is a series of before and after pictures of the entire house. You almost couldn't recognize the place, it was tidy and sparkling clean.

The rest of your housemates agreed in text, telling you that he was such a pleasant conversationalist.

"oh ya idk if hes still here but he made a massive pot of congee for u, its a fuckin banger u should try it" "Damn u lucky as hel to have him take out da trash on ur behalf, that shit was nasty and he did it without gloves too" "His car is still outside, he has got to be here." "oh shiiiittt hes gotta be LOADEDDD with a hot ride like that. where did u find him??" "Omg!! I need his recipe!! Can you ask him for it, pretty please, (name)? Maybe his number too??" "lawlz not u being hornyz on main" "lmaoo fuckin simp" "im not!! :(( he's just so sweet and handsome, im not stealing their man or anything, i just wanna get to know him!! you guys are just mean!!" "whatever u say president desperate"

You read all their text messages that devolved into banterings, looks like all your housemates know him now. You wonder what he talked about with them. What was there to talk about?

You were brought back to reality when you heard him shut the draw. He left your room once more to retrieve something.

Your phone pinged, alerting you of another text message.

"BRUH hes really still here"

Shortly after, you received a picture taken in the kitchen. Looks like the photographer tried to be subtle from its angle.

The photo showed Yves's back as he scoops something from a pot into a bowl, using a metal ladle.

"shit (name) how did u pull such a fine man It's literally 9pm rn" "What time did he come here tho?? Ik i came home at 6 and i saw him mopping the floor" "like 4pm" "FIVE HOURS ?? (NAME) TELL UR BESTIE HES WELCOME HERE ANYTIME WE WILL OPEN THE DOOR FOR HIM"

At least they seem to be less of pricks to you than before, all thanks to Yves. But it's such a shame that it took a good-looking servicing stranger to get them to act nice towards you.

"(Name), you have to eat something." You looked up from your cracked screen to see Yves holding a bowl of steamy congee. He pulled the chair from your desk and sat next to your bed.

"Sit up straight." He caressed the small of your back. You complied with his command while he stacked your pillows to make a backrest.

It has a mild, pleasantly savoury aroma.

He fed you by the spoonful agonizingly slow, you're horrified that you're now used to this gesture. It isn't something you feel flustered about, it just feels... right. It feels normal and it's as if he's done this for your entire life.

You're getting more comfortable with him and that scares the fuck out of you.

You're surprised that it's not making you want to hurl, the meal is actually bettering your stomach and you wanted to eat more even after finishing the entire bowl. It's definitely bland in your dictionary, since it's only seasoned with salt, pepper and freshly made chicken stock. But it was heavenly. And its the only thing you can stomach now.

You asked for more. You were shocked when your request is denied.

"You're full. You are going to vomit if I give you more. That's enough for now, I'll give you another bowl an hour later." He dabbed the corners of your mouth with a facial tissue.

You froze.

He is right. You are full. You wanted more because it tasted great, but you would have thrown it all up again.

It's eerie how he knows you better than you know yourself. And this is only the third time you have spoken to him. This doesn't seem right, does it?

Yves left your room once more to keep the dishes away. Predictably, the group chat blew up with astonished reactions that Yves appeared right before their eyes again.

You massaged your forehead, wondering if you should have been a bit more firm in saying no to Yves. But he just makes you so weak against him.

You checked the time and the digits turned from 9:59pm to 10:00pm.

It's getting very late.

[bodybeyondstories]

Rapid Expansion Mechanism - 1

Amir signs up for an experimental sleep study to make some extra cash, then starts having strange dreams about people around him growing wildly out of control. He's not all that concerned.

maleTF // growth // butt growth // dick growth // nsfw

4340 words

Note: I was really interested in dreams and dreaming, the impacts of the immaterial on material worlds, etc etc. Also thinking about playing around more intentionally with body horror as a theme. This is a little heavy on the exposition, I was having fun with a l'il bit of worldbuilding. We'll all have to see where it goes I guess.

---

[lol I think you were in my dream last night]

Amir stared at his phone for ten minutes, waiting for a reply. Stared at the ceiling for another ten waiting for the telltale double vibration of a text notification. The sunrise dusk began to shift into a muddled overcast morning. He lay in bed waiting for some outside force to begin the day for him as the world progressed on its own.

He’s probably still asleep, he thought. He probably woke up to the notification from me, reluctantly opened it, cringed and went back to bed. Telling someone you dreamt about them after a first date is insane. He began to berate himself with clarity as his sleep-addled thoughts cleared. This guy’s barely been rid of you for twelve hours and you’re sending good morning texts as if he’ll actually respond. You’re supposed to be playing it cool. That’s what people do, right? They play it cool.

He needed coffee. He needed coffee and he needed to stop beating himself up. I’m a perfectly fine focus of someone’s attention. A catch even, sort of, sometimes. I would love to hear about my weird REM sleep adventures. None of this felt reassuring.

The dream! I’m supposed to be recording my dreams, he remembered, one hand flailing around the side table until it landed on a small spiral notebook. He eased deeper under the covers to try and convince his body that it was not actually waking up yet and should let him hold on to the opaque montage of sounds and images slowly flushing out of his brain. He squinted in the gray dawn light, putting pen to paper and letting memories flow without interpretation or context, as instructed.

The date with Dex last night. He’s sitting across the table from me and he’s talking about something, I can’t make out what he’s saying, the sound is garbled and woozy but he’s talking about something and there’s something creeping up under his shirt, bulging and pulsing higher and higher but he’s still just talking and eventually it reaches the top and his brown cockhead pokes out, it’s leaking precum, continues expanding upward and he’s still just talking as it gets girthier and rips his collar and he’s just ignoring it and everyone else seems to be ignoring but I feel more and more anxious, no, terrified, I can see it stretching and lurching higher and bigger and he moves his head to the right to maintain eye contact with me and it’s gushing all over the table and he’s still just talking like having a liter bottle thick schlong arcing past your head is the most normal thing on a date and eventually the rest of his clothes rip and his dick slams onto the table and everything goes flying and I’m staring right into it getting ready to blow and it erupts and…

Amir paused in thought, pen in hand. The memories had slipped out so easily onto the pad in his lap and were now completely gone from his head. All he had was the scribbled description of the strange scene and the still image of Dex and that…thing erupting from his body and the phantom sensation that something was very wrong. His heart was beating fast in anxiety or anticipation, he couldn’t tell. I’m already having sex dreams about this guy? This dry spell is ridiculous, he thought, seeking to convince himself that that’s all it was. Pent up sexual frustration and anxiety leading to one too many drinks.

He looked at the notepad laying in his lap with trepidation. I guess it is good to have a space to think through whatever weird bullshit is bouncing around your unconscious, he thought, sure that somewhere he’d read that it’s good for your mental health to make a practice of writing your dreams. He hoped that that was the only reason they had him doing it.

He’d had an appointment the day before with a sleep study research trial. He'd been referred to a specialist for his insomnia, but lacked the coverage for it until he started a new job. So he ended up signing up as a subject with some place called Phantasy Labs that he had never heard of but apparently had a huge research campus nestled in the woods just outside of town. Some kind of experimental startup with more money than God and not a huge public presence. Not that he thought much of it beyond the pay was decent and he needed the cash. He figured whatever it is, he’d probably get the placebo anyway.

I need to get out more, Amir mused as he cruised through the heavily wooded grounds of Phantasy Lab’s campus, marveling at the fact that he’d apparently never seen this landscape before. He craned his neck back and forth at impossibly tall oaks with great beards of Spanish moss, their tops forming a crown shy cathedral far above that let in just enough dappled light to see the road. The pavement was well manicured, resembling a reddish brown clay, winding its way through the forest with meandering curves, making for a delightful cruise through nature but preventing him from seeing too far ahead or too far behind. Visibility quickly became poor as he gazed into the gloom of the densely wooded landscape, tricks of the light occasionally producing brief glimpses of what looked like figures moving furtively among the trees, too big to be anything he recognized. 

But it was just him ambling in his beat up Civic with mismatched hood, no other hints of this supposed facility beyond the occasional sign inviting him to continue along this path, as if there were anywhere else to go. Eventually, and somewhat reluctantly, the trees parted to release him, revealing the squat structure that he took to be the research facility. The road gentled him to the right and he cruised along, looking for a parking lot but seeing only the great wall of trees on the right and the seamless, continuous curve of the building to his left. He continued on for what felt like ages, convinced he had to have circled the building at least twice if not for the occasional break in the scene of what looked like experimental farm plots with unusually large crops. He’d heard of giant pumpkins but had never seen eggplants that could eclipse his entire leg or peaches the size of his head weighing down the branches of a tree. This was all being tended to by the only human presence he had seen so far, gardeners who looked fit to bursting out of their work coveralls, some of them going so far as to rip the sleeves off or crop the pant legs to free up surprisingly juicy quads. He wondered if they were hiring.

Eventually he saw a car symbol on the smooth wall of the building. As he pulled up to it, an invisible seam unzipped from top to bottom, revealing an interior space just large enough for his car, with no discernible light source yet softly lit nonetheless. He idled in, pulling to a stop as lavender text appeared on the solid wall in front of him: “Welcome to Phantasy Labs. Please put your car in park, turn it completely off, and proceed to the door on your left.” A series of dots of soft light began to appear along the wall, running to the left from the text around to an outline of a doorway. As he approached, the wall unzipped itself, and more lavender text appeared above: “Remember to gather your things. We’re so happy you’re here.” 

He turned around just in time to see his car being soundlessly lowered into the floor, towards what he hoped was some sort of underground garage. He made a mental note to ask someone about that, then stepped through the entryway into a massive foyer. The space was expansive, significantly taller than the building appeared from the outside, the curvature of the walls dominated by rounded hexagonal windows that ran from floor to ceiling, providing a view of the monumental trees outside, and far in the distance, the tops of the city skyline.

A smattering of people who seemed well trained in looking busy were milling about, heading from one unzippering portal to another, none bothering to acknowledge his existence. The only direction was given by the familiar lavender dots of light, now appearing along the floor, and progressing as he followed them along to the wide, swooping reception desk.

“Hi,” he said, walking up to a welcome desk that seemed the manifestation of minimalist efficiency. “I’m–”

“Amir,” the receptionist said, without pausing in their tapping against a keyboard of lavender light embedded in the surface. “Welcome.”

“I’m here for the–”

“4 o clock REM study. Sapp is in the lab now, looks like he’s just about ready for you. Please double check the liability waiver and the NDA,” they said, as two streams of text appeared side by side on the wall behind them, scrolling just fast enough for Amir to keep up before a signature pad appeared directly in front of him on the surface of the desk. He scribbled his name in his usual seal of lukewarm approval and it disappeared into the ether. “Please proceed directly to the lab and nowhere else.” At this, the receptionist finally looked up, locking eyes with Amir just long enough for him to see what looked like circuitry running through their lavender irises. “Just use your fingerprint for security.”

“Oh, do you need my fingerprint?”

“We have it,” they answered, with a practiced smile.

—

Amir followed the dots through the facility, which somehow managed to be both claustrophobic and expansive, like an open air maze. He was convinced he would be meandering through those passageways and elevators for the rest of his life if he lost track of the pattern of light along the floor leading him forward. He couldn’t tell if it was matching his pace or setting it. Finally, he stopped at a door with soft light around the frame glowing in approval before letting him through with the press of his thumb against a small pad on the side.

“Hi, you’re Doctor Sapp?” Amir asked in the general direction of the lab-coated figure puttering around the space, checking monitors, gathering equipment, opening what looked like a highly sophisticated code-locked cooler to pull out a bag of peanut butter cups. He paused, spinning on one heel toward the sound of Amir’s voice.

“I’m a technician,” he corrected, scanning Amir up and down, seeming to look through him. “All the PIs are, uh, indisposed elsewhere, you could say. But hopefully they’ll find their way back soon enough,” he added with that same practiced smile. “Oh you’re interesting,” he said, as if finally noticing Amir’s existence as an actual human being, looking not quite at him but at the air immediately around him.

“I’m…here for the–”

“Study! Yes, we are thrilled to have you. Please take a seat,” he gestured to a stool placed in the center of a ring of what looked like sigils imprinted in a circle on the floor, softly glowing and fading to a rhythm Amir couldn’t quite catch. From the ceiling hung a white cap covered in glowing sensors, a handful of small white circles dangling from the edges. As Technician Sapp walked him over, Amir’s eyes were drawn to his sneakers, which looked disproportionately big for an otherwise average sized man. They seemed large enough to affect his motion around the lab, his peculiar walk drawing Amir’s attention as he explained the procedure.

“There’s still so much we still don’t know about the human brain, it’s like a portal to radical new worlds.” His eyes brightened as he gave the elevator pitch to Amir, who began going in and out of focus as Sapp shifted into granular detail about the neurological ins and outs of the procedure as he finished setting up the apparatus, carefully placing the cap on his skull and sticking the little white sensors to his forehead and temples. It was more than a little out of his wheelhouse to be honest, but once the helmet was on he became fully distracted by the fireflies. Or at least that was the closest approximation. Little bursts of warm light in the space around him, progressing in lazy, chaotic spirals and loops, or flashing across his vision like shooting stars, but never venturing past the circle of sigils on the floor. He had the brief thought that maybe he should mention this.

“...there’s really incredible advancements being made in the research sector out of CSS,” continued Sapp. “Some artifact they’ve been working with that’s pushed transdimensional energetics decades ahead and if our theories are true about quantum tunneling via dream states, and the conditions are just right, we might be able to give you the right nudge–combination of nudges I guess–to activate REM.”

“Oh, like REM sleep!” exclaimed Amir, brought back to Sapp’s words by a term he thankfully recognized. “That’s good, right?”

That middle space stare again, not quite at him or through him, but analyzing something about him that Amir couldn’t quite see.

“Yeah. Yeah, let’s go with that.” The technician paused in contemplation. “I know this all probably sounds very…woo woo,” he said, as if making that specific sound for the first time, his hands splayed out and rotating left and right with each respective woo, the fireflies dancing in tandem. They locked eyes in prolonged silence until Amir realized his statement was more of an open question.

“I think it’s fine, sounds cool,” Amir responded with a crooked, encouraging smile.

“Good!” the technician clapped. “Then we’re all set.”

Amir looked nervously at the clock, composed of lavender numerals on the far wall, which displayed 16:16.

“Spooling up now,” said Technician Sapp. “Just relax, you shouldn’t feel a thing. You shouldn't not feel anything either.”

The fireflies began to take on a range of multicolored pulses of light, their meandering paths turning into a counterclockwise rotation around the inside of the circle. Am I supposed to close my eyes? thought Amir. Should I have asked? But he was captivated, finding it impossible to look away as they picked up speed and intensity, blending into a vortex of light that stretched the length of his vision, tightening closer and closer until–

They were gone. Amir was sitting perfectly still in the middle of the ring of sigils, still softly glowing and fading.

“All done,” said Sapp, who had positioned himself with a wide stance at one of the monitors. “Really interesting readings on this one. That session lasted 33 minutes and 28 seconds.”

The clock displayed 16:17.

“How do you feel?” asked Sapp. “Any spacetime folds? Prophetic visions? Partial phase shifts?”

“Um, no?” said Amir, who didn’t know what any of that meant but wasn’t sure if maybe he should. 

“Good!” Technician Sapp’s hands clapped in relief, as he began carefully removing the white sensors from Amir’s forehead and lifting the apparatus off his skull. “Please remember to keep a detailed journal of any dreams or dream-like phenomena and let us know about any side effects, real or imagined. Not that you should notice any serious changes whatsoever.”

“Other than my insomnia being cured, right?” asked Amir, with a hopeful smile.

Technician Sapp stared at him blankly, his head tilted at a slight angle, as if analyzing the cartography of pores on his face.

“Right,” he finally said. “Because that is what it does,” bopping his head slightly with the playful cadence, his smile ratcheting in intensity with each word, as if he plucked them at random from the ether and was pleasantly surprised to see them form a coherent thought.

Amir followed the dots of light through the facility, hoping his car was back above ground.

—

“But the clock said 16:17!”

Amir had been a little rattled by his experience as a test subject that afternoon, but had hoped it’d at least make for a cool story on his date with Dex. He managed to get through this tale of seamless walls and fireflies and weird technicians without leaning too hard into the fact that he needed the research study cash because the between in ‘I’m between jobs’ was doing a more than generous amount of work.

Dex was making a valiant effort to look some semblance of interested, hoping something else might emerge to guide the conversation. Eventually, they were chatting about more normal things, like Amir’s newfound interest in neo-futurist architecture, and Dex getting fitted soon for the premier of his musical the next weekend. It was a community theater production of an original sci-fi musical based off of an experimental Progressive House album. He was playing one of the leads, an interstellar vagabond who falls in love with a sentient stellar gas cloud under threat of being harvested to extinction by an expanding intergalactic empire.

“And the whole time I’m wearing like, tights and a glorified jock strap,” he laughed, cheeks blushing. “The stellar gas cloud couldn’t bring the sex appeal, so it had to be me.”

It was neither of their best work, as far as first dates go, but they had both experienced worse. Amir walked Dex home and they exchanged an awkward pseudo kiss-hug goodbye, which ended up with Amir planting his lips on his date’s forehead in a way that was very close to being a headbutt.

He thought it went well. After all, he dreamt about it, right?

—

The next morning, getting over the residual aftershocks of the aforementioned dream, Amir went about his day, bumbling around the kitchen until he produced a single mug of coffee, hoping the caffeine might help him make sense of the strange sequence of events since yesterday afternoon. That day in funemployment he was venturing one floor down in his apartment building to look after his neighbor Kenneth’s cat, Mr. Pibb, recovering from whatever sort of medical procedure is required to keep a nineteen year old feline on this mortal plane. Kenneth called Mr. Pibb distinguished, gently cooing to him as he reposed in his window perch, but Amir preferred ancient, imagining him reminiscing about the Great Depression as he gazed into the overcast morning.

Kenneth’s interior design was intentional, if nothing else, just like his personal aesthetic. Amir liked to think he had just stepped out of a stock photo or had been a menswear mannequin that started speaking and paying taxes. Everything about him was always coiffed, trimmed, tailored, and set just so, from the stately shoulders in his designer v-neck pullover to the cute butt in his light blue tweed slacks. Amir had for years wanted to figure out where he was always heading off to for work, but enjoyed sitting with the mystique.

“Okay so everything’s very carefully arranged in here, and the cleaners just came in yesterday, so don’t go, you know, touching things too much,” said Kenneth. He had a few inches on Amir’s 5’9” form, but had a knack for speaking down to people regardless of height. “Also, there’s a tray on the counter and a drawer in the fridge labeled with your name, those are some snacks for you. Please don’t ruffle around through everything else, I’m on a very particular diet and I’ve already begun prepping for next week.”

Amir gave a lazy salute as he leaned his butt against the counter, taking a sip of his coffee. “I will sit on this couch and stare at this cat.”

“Thank you,” said Kenneth, his face relaxing slightly. “And don’t be offended if Mr. Pibb doesn’t take to you immediately, he gets skittish around strangers.”

Skittish was the furthest thing from the ball of mangy fur sitting in the window like an avant garde art piece. Amir smiled anyway, watching Kenneth stride into the hallway and off to whatever it is he does.

Amir fell into the couch, settling into his usual activity of firing off job applications into the void, letting in just enough existential dread to keep him on his toes, and getting up periodically to make sure Mr. Pibb got his medicine or was still breathing. Maybe Dex’s coffee shop is training new baristas, he thought, picking up his phone and opening the still unanswered text thread. No, no, that’s awkward, you just want an excuse to talk to him. You want to hear from the cute boy who popped up in your dreams. Amir had a flashback to the ghostly image of Dex crammed into the booth across from him, his monstrous member about to unleash a pyroclastic flow of splooge right at his face. Chills went down his spine. 

As afternoon rolled around, he tried a different tack, remembering that Dex had a costume fitting today after his shift. It’s been a busy day, of course he hasn’t texted back, he assured himself.

[Amir: You have the fitting today, right? How are you feeling about opening night?]

Sent into the ether, a bubble of text hanging below the last unanswered attempt.

This can’t be the most interesting thing I have going on, Amir thought, glancing between the dozens of tabs of job ads, the tray of high fiber, high protein snack bars on the counter, and the dozing cat in the window. It was, in fact, the most interesting thing he had going on. Accordingly, he fell asleep in the mid afternoon sun.

Kenneth. Standing in the doorway in his crisp slacks and expensive sweater, petting Mr. Pibb with one hand and gesturing purposefully with the other, the furniture in the room rearranging instantaneously with every swish of his finger, giving a continuous stream of verbal directions that sounded carefully crafted, though I couldn’t decipher what he was saying. The doorframe began to shrink around him, but no it was the same size, his body was growing, expanding to fill the space, his butt inflating cartoonishly behind him until his cheeks pressed against the frame, his hips too wide to fit through, his shoulders approaching the top corners of the doorway as his head surpassed it, cracks forming around the frame and plaster starting to rain down, continuing to gesture casually as the furniture flew and pet Mr. Pibb, who, levitating at elbow height, turned to me with a sentient look in his eyes, a very human concern creasing the edges, saying “You have to remember this. You have to–” his speech became garbled, mixing in with Kenneth’s gibberish, covered by Kenneth’s massive, growing hand–

Amir jolted awake, confused panic releasing adrenaline into his bloodstream until he remembered I’m in Kenneth’s apartment, I’m here to take care of–he turned frantically to see the cat still dozing in the window perch, not levitating and speaking with a human voice, just opening his eyes briefly to give him a look of mild annoyance.

What the fuck was that? he thought. Should I write that down? His notepad was still upstairs, maybe he could do it later, Kenneth should be home soon. He really hoped this dream journal wasn’t some sort of homework assignment. He dreaded the idea of Technician Sapp reading through multiple weird, horny nightmares in a row to try and decode whatever was happening in his brain.

His phone vibrated from where it had become nestled between the couch cushions and his butt. His heart skipped a beat to see the upside down notification from Dex as it hung loosely in his sleep-dulled hand.

[Dex: Hey, sorry, dealing with kind of a weird health issue. Didn’t make it to the fitting.]

[Amir: Oh no! Feel better?]

Why was that a question, Amir scolded himself, making a mental note of the 👍🏽 reaction that was quickly attached to his text. 

“One date and he’s driven to illness. Just me and you, Mr. Pibb.”

Mr. Pibb gave a mrow of negation, his ears turning toward the front door. A few seconds later, Amir heard the sound of key entering lock and deadbolt turning, followed by Kenneth and shoulder bag peaking in.

“Amir?” ventured Kenneth as he opened the door.

“Hey, Ken,” said Amir.

“Kenneth.”

“Hey, Kenneth,” his smile matching the ease of late afternoon and a cat sitting job well done. “Mr. Pibb is definitely still alive.”

“You’re my hero,” Kenneth smirked, taking a moment to lean back against the doorframe and catch his breath. “Sorry, I took the stairs getting up here, I needed the workout.”

“Ok stairmaster. I’ve been rotting on this couch and ya look great,” Amir offered.

Kenneth rolled his eyes in reluctant thanks, dropping his bag by the entryway and wiggling his shoulders in apparent discomfort. “It’s warm, are you warm?” He adjusted his pants unconsciously as he strolled over to his cat. “Maybe I’m a little overheated, huh, Mr. Pibb?” The cat was ambivalent.

“Same time tomorrow?” he asked, before turning back to Amir. “Also, please remember, you have to–”

Amir flashed back to the image of Kenneth filling the doorway, frame cracking, plaster falling, pants and sweater ripped to tatters around him as he grew–

“Amir?”

“Kenneth,” said Amir, snapping back to reality.

“Just…remember Mr. Pibb needs his fifteen minutes of stimulation while I’m gone. He can be very energetic.”

“I’ll have to take your word on that.”

“Also, you need to check the package table more often. This has been sitting downstairs for you.” He thrust an iridescent envelope towards Amir. “It’s from Phantasy Labs.”

“Oh, you know them? Super bougie lab in that weird forest?”

“If you mean this municipality’s primary employer and the ecologically delicate nature preserve, then yes.”

“Thanks dude,” Amir gingerly lifted the envelope out of Kenneth’s hand, gathering it up with his laptop and mug as he turned to leave. “Keep hittin’ those squats, bro. See ya tomorrow.”

“Yeah, see ya,” answered Kenneth, a look of mild confusion on his face as his hands settled self-consciously on his hips.

[sukirichi]

I woke up and immediately clicked on the notification, this was an ideal morning 😋😚

⚠️ spoilers ahead ⚠️

I LITERALLY TOLD MYSELF IT'S A DREAM ISN'T JT AND PROMPTLY HAD TEARS IN MY EYES OH MY GOD ⚰️ this chapter held me by the NECK. IVE BEEN KICKING AND SMILING. I HAD TO PUT MY PHONE DOWN BEFORE I SLAMMED IT AGAINST THE WALL 🤬 AND THE WAY I GASPED MULTIPLE TIMES 🤭 DAMN THEY'RE ALL PLAYING WITH MY HEART.

Ir*s can receive YN's wrath, I felt a bit of pity for her because it seems her mother had a big hand in why she acts like this and probably has been using Ir*s as a pawn for her own agenda but idc anymore let Kuroo do his worst 🥰

I FELL IN LOVE (platonically) with the scenes of Airi and YN 😌 I hope we get to see more friendship. She's so incredibly sweet and I'm really glad we get to see more of her character 🥰

OH AND WHEN YN TOLD AIRI TO CALL THE PERFUME COMPANY ‼️‼️

also the scenes with Kageyama just melted my heart, my heart broke for him 😭❤️ like baby you WILL find love dont worry about becoming like them there's some special cases and your brother just SUCKS!

little oikawa shout-out because even though he has a really twisted way of 'protecting Maiko' he's a good-ish person at heart 🤷‍♂️🤷🤷‍♀️

NOW LITTLE BTCH BOY RIN I WILL PERSONALLY END HIM or he'll end me idk with the way you write him I think he'll be the death of me 😭 if bad why so incredibly hot 🤧 BUT IT'S OKAY CAUSE AS READER SAID 👏 I BET KIYOOMI LOOKED BETTER 👏

I'm physically cheering on YN like YOU'RE A DANGEROUS QUEEN YES ‼️💐

ugh 😍 and kiyoomi 🫠 no words just kiyoomi 🫠

sorry for the barely coherent dump I just 😳😭😍🫠🤬😞😭🤭‼️😟🫢

oh my lord I forgot to sign my anon ask, the one with excessive emojis about chapter 12 was 🌙 anon 😭😭

no worries 🌙 anon ;)

lmaooo yeah it was just a wet dream, unfortunately 😭 sleeping with suna the night before was so traumatic that our brain coped by dreaming about kiyoomi fucking us right instead. ‘let kuroo do his work’ trust in kuroo !!

we love tobio in this house! honestly though i’m just really soft for him so there’s that + tooru hnggrr he’s a very complex character too, i can’t lie that he’s also one of my favorites so i gotta make my man shine here and there (he’s a good person, just give him time 🥹)

‘if bad why so incredibly hot’ real 🗣️ but also not reader telling herself that ‘meh, kiyoomi looks better’ pffpfpfpfpf. kiyoomi the main man in this house, on my knees for him 🧎🏻‍♀️

[yourchemicallyimbalancedromance]

Something (Un)Familiar

Ship: none? Unless you count this as platonic LAMP lmao, also possible prinxiety?

CW/TW: heavy dissociation themes (like literally the main theme of this entire story revolves around dissociation.), also swearing

Summary: Roman wakes up in an empty parking lot in the middle of the night and panics, calling Virgil for help.

———————————————————————

The fluorescent streetlights above Roman were blinding; cutting, white circles. They pierced through his windshield and flooded into the car, lighting up the leather seats.

Roman had his head pressed against the headrest, barely conscious. Slowly blinking his eyes open, he immediately covered them with his arm, sucking in a breath at the light harshly beaming down on him. As the pressure in his eyes decreased and finally became adjusted to the light, he looked around, squinting, trying to look for cues of where he was.

The parking lot was empty, the only thing accompanying it being locked stores, rattling leaves on the pavement, and him.

Waves of fear racked his body, he saw his phone in the open glovebox and grabbed it, noticing that it was powered all the way off. He didn’t do that, did he?

His breath hitched further, he had no clue where he was, he was lost and he had absolutely no way of knowing how he had even gotten there in the first place.

He held down the volume and power button on his phone watching as it lit up and presented a passcode screen. He typed it in as fast as could, and with his entrance being accepted came hundreds of missed calls and messages. He scrolled through them.

Virgil: where the hell are you????? Patton is worried sick, literally. Text back soon, please.

Logan: Roman I think it’d be best if you answered your phone. No one is going to be upset at you, we are just concerned for your safety.

*13 missed calls from: Virgil* his lucky number, shit, he really fucked up.

Those were only a few of the multiple notifications from Virgil.

Patton hadn’t bothered texting, which made him feel nauseous.

With shaking hands, he quickly clicked on Virgil’s contact and began typing.

He deleted the message and began retyping again, and again, and again. This cycle repeated for a few minutes before he finally sent the message.

‘I’m fine. I don’t know where I am but I’m fine.’

The message was read immediately, a gray text box following hurriedly after it.

‘Holy hell you’re okay’

‘What the fuck Roman, you can’t just up and leave without explanation’

‘What do you mean you don’t know where you are.’

Roman shook his head, nerves still all over the place, the queasy feeling in his gut never left, only got increasingly worse.

He pressed the call button under Virgil’s contact and prayed to god he would answer. He picked up on the first ring.

“Virgil? Virg I don’t know— I don’t know where I am, I’m in my car but—“ he looked around, “I can’t see anything, it’s dark, I can’t read any of the signs. I- I don’t know how I got here”

He heard voices and then a muffled “Roman, Roman listen to me, we’re tracking your phone right now, it’s okay. Stay in your car, are the doors locked?”

Roman looked beside him, down at the little buttons on the car door, the lock button was pushed down, the lights streaming on it. “Mhm” he said, hushed.

“Okay, good. Do not get out of the car, do you understand? We just pinged your location. Roman—why are you in a bare parking lot?”

To this, Roman broke out into tears “I don’t know, I just— I woke up here and— Virgil, do you think I’m crazy?”

“You just—“ Virgil started, “The possibility of you being mentally deranged is extremely low, Roman. You are fine, this may be a case of amnesia due to dissociation” Logan butted in.

“Disso— what?” Roman choked out

“Dissociation. There are many types. For example, there’s Dissociative Identity disorder which has different subtypes such as OSDD which stands for Other Specified Dissociative Disorder and there’s DPDR which stands for Deperson-“

“Logan.” Virgil says sharply.

“Sorry. Right. Roman, what you are struggling with is dissociative amnesia, not being able to recall information about oneself, usually due to longterm stress and/or trauma. In this instance, you cannot remember how you found yourself where you are, and that’s okay. You are okay.” Logan explains all of this calmly, as if it is just another day, as if explaining why Roman is stranded is as normal as breathing to him.

Romans cries have died down to sniffles, and his eyes are darting around for any possible threats in the sea of darkness he finds himself in; the streetlights are slowly turning off one by one.

“Okay—okay just— when are you coming to get me?” Roman asks timidly, almost as if he’s not in the silence of his own car, no one around to hear him.

“You’re about 15 minutes away,” Logan says, “we’ll text you when we’re close so you can turn your headlights on” there’s a silence between them before he adds, “to make it easier to find you.”

Roman nods even though Logan can’t see him, he realizes this and adds a soft “okay”

———————————————————————

It felt like hours before Roman got the message Logan was talking about.

Logan: ‘We are a minute away, please turn your headlights on.’

Roman fumbled for his keys and put them in the ignition, turning them and jumping at the sound of the engine running.

He turned on his headlights quickly as he heard a car pull up beside him and park, the gravel on the lot kicking up and landing a few feet away in all directions.

Logan was driving the car while Virgil was holding Patton in the backseat, who was still visibly shaken.

Logan got out of the car, putting little pressure on the door to close it; Virgil and Patton followed behind.

Roman opened his door immediately and clung to Logan. He didn’t react immediately, just froze for a second before patting him on the back. “It’s alright, Roman. you’re okay.” He whispered soothingly.

Anyone else would’ve heard nothing but a monotone voice speaking into the cold air, but he heard it; the delicateness, the careful wording.

Roman let go and was immediately pulled into the embrace of Patton who was almost crying. It was a silent and drawn out hug, neither side saying anything; almost as if everything they needed to say had disappeared once they saw each other; Patton let go.

“If you ever scare me like that again I’m going to murder you I swear to god.” Virgil grumbled, only half joking.

Roman looked uncomfortable and fidgety at the mention of death considering anything could have happened to him while unconscious, he didn’t say anything about it, just said “sorry..”

Logan cleared his throat, “if I may interject for a second,” he looked around to make sure everyone was listening, “Roman I am extraordinarily content with the finding that you are alive and well but it is approximately 37 degrees outside. We need to get you home.”

Roman nodded in agreement.

“Alright, Let’s go. Virgil and Patton, you ride with Roman and make sure he’s well; I’ll take my car back and follow you.”

Everyone scattered to their cars and the sound of doors slamming shut filled the air. Roman was now in the passenger seat instead of the front seat, Virgil was in the front; He slowly backed out of the parking lot and headed towards their home.

Out of impulse, Roman grabbed Virgil’s hand. It was cold, but he didn’t mind it, he liked the psychical contact, it reminded him of the fact that he was alive and safe.

Virgil smiled, trying to hide it by looking in the rear view mirror, pretending to check for anything behind them. It was a dumb idea, really, it was 12:30 AM and no one would be out that late where they lived; he liked how hard he tried though.

Patton didn’t say anything the whole way home, only gave Roman the occasional glance to make sure he was okay.

He was fine with it, the silence, the lack of words. He didn’t need it, only needed their presence, only needed to hold and be held by the person he loved the most, Virgil, even if it was just hand-holding; he was fine with that.

And he didn’t know it, but Virgil was too.

[graneymar]

#5.2 NEYMAR JR: ONE NIGHT IN IBIZA (Part 1)

SUMMARY: You and Neymar are back from vacation, finally facing different sides of having a public relationship.

WARNINGS: none actually, some fluff with a minimum of angst and the smallest minimum of smut (literally just one dirty sentence)

PAIRING: Neymar x fem!reader

After spending our last few days in Ibiza, I decided I would stay with Neymar in Paris for another week before I had to leave for my studies.

We arrived only a few hours ago and spent the rest of the day cuddling up in his bed, watching movies and our favorite shows. My phone lit up - an Instagram notification about Neymar tagging me in his story. I smiled at him and shortly pecked his cheek. Since the public found out about us, he wouldn’t go a day without tagging or posting me - he literally mentioned me whenever and wherever he could. "How do you feel about being in the public now?", he asked and took his eyes off of the tv to glance at me. I shrugged, "It's been okay so far I guess. I'm just really hoping I will not get treated differently in university now. And I hope your fangirls will not overcrowd my office once I'm finished." He chuckled before kissing my hand he was holding in his. Those hazel eyes that always looked at me in love and admiration suddenly darkened. Oh, I knew what he had in mind. "Ney, I'm too tired today", I exclaimed laughing while he didn’t seem to care as he climbed on top of me. "Can’t wait to fuck you in your own office, Ms. Lawyer", he smirked before the two of us shared a long, passionate kiss that quickly led to another fun activity.

The next morning I woke up to see Neymar wasn’t in bed anymore. It wasn’t anything new, he always got up earlier than me. When I heard his annoyed groans and cursing though, I got a little worried. Slowly opening the bedroom door, I tiptoed my way into the living room, where I found Neymar talking on his phone. "Yeah okay, whatever. I'll be there tomorrow", he sighed out before hanging up and looking straight at me. "I have to play Saturday, training starts tomorrow." I crossed my arms in front of my chest. "Why? All you asked for was another week off? I'm leaving Sunday", the disappointment in my voice was clearly audible. "I know baby, but Kylian's injured. I can’t leave those idiots hanging", Neymar explained. My lips formed a pout as I nodded. We planned to attend the match anyway, but we were supposed to be watching together instead of me watching him playing. "I'm sorry meu amor", he mumbled while cupping my face in his hands. "Está bem [it’s fine]", I replied, even though it really wasn’t. If it would be only him playing on Saturday I’d be less worried, but him training meant even less time we would be able to spend together. "Hey", he softly said stroking my cheek, "Don't be sad, please. Let’s have some breakfast, get ready and go out, hm?"

Our day went just as planned. Honestly, I've been excited and nervous about going out with Neymar since it would be the first time everyone would see as the couple we actually were, not just friends like we pretended to be before. To my surprise though, there were no paparazzi, barely even any fans interrupting our shopping tour - and most of the fans that came up to us simply wanted to take a picture with Neymar and greeted me nicely. So far, so good, I thought. Until we got out of the sushi restaurant and the paparazzi were already waiting outside. I gasped at the amount of cameras that were directed at me, my body twitched everytime another flashlight lit up. "Que merda [shit]", Neymar mumbled to himself and reached out for my hand. I instantly grabbed his,l while my other hand was busy covering my face. As he started walking through the crowd to get to his car, he squeezed my hand a little tighter. One of the paparazzi shoved his camera right into my face. "Step away from her please", Neymar politely yet demanding said - ignorance being the only response. That one paparazzi got even closer to me, almost tearing apart Neymars and my intertwined hands. He started asking questions like how we both met; why Neymar would be dating me in the first place and finally, if I had serious intentions with Neymar or if it was just money, fame and attention that I was after. That was enough for Neymar to lose his shit. He pushed the camera away from me, making it hit the paparazzi right into his face. "I said step away from her! Filho da puta [son of a bitch]", he shouted out through gritted teeth, pulling me closer to him. As soon as we approached his car, he quickly opened the passenger door for me, slightly pushing me in to avoid anyone else getting closer to me than they were supposed to. Taking a few deep breaths I started calming down a little, instinctively grabbing Neymars hand as soon as he dropped himself next to me. "How did they even know where we're at?", I asked, my voice still a little shaky. Neymar stroked my hand with his thumb while checking his phone. "Oh fuck", he mumbled and turned his phone in my direction, "I thought I saved it as a draft but I must’ve accidentally posted it. I'm so sorry babe." How clever, a photo of our food and the damn location. I tried to keep my angry facial expression while staring at him, but finally bursted out into laughter. He looked at me, relieved but confused. "Why are you laughing? I thought you’d be mad at me."

"I am, actually", I raised my brows at him, "but that’s so typically Neymar. This is something that can only happen to you and no one else, honestly." He shrugged, his lips pressed into a thin line, looking at me with puppy eyes before finally giving me a short kiss and starting the car.

The next few days went by quite ordinary. While Neymar was at training, I tried to distract myself by cleaning the apartment, cooking or simply taking a walk outside. When the day of his match arrived though, the anxiety broke through me again. "Baby, don’t worry! Guilherme and Gil will be with you. I got you seats far from the fans", Neymar reassured me as he tried to calm me down. God, if he only knew I wasn’t scared of the fans but the media talking shit about me again. When the paparazzi caught us back in Ibiza, I instantly got compared to Neymars ex girlfriends, saying I looked nothing like them, talking badly about my appearance, my body, even how I wasn’t photogenic. I truly didn’t care about what they said about how I looked. I was confident enough to ignore it and as long as Neymar viewed me the way he did, I couldn’t care less about how others saw me. When the media started talking trash about our relationship, saying I was just enjoying the luxurious lifestyle Neymar brought to my life and I apparently was only interested in his money, fame and attention though - that actually hurt me. It was hard enough for Neymar to open up after so many people took advantage of him, building up his trust in me was an entire process. I was afraid they would come up with some story that would make him doubt my love for him or even overthink our relationship. But I refused to tell him about what was actually bothering me. I didn’t want to make a scene before anything even happened.

"I have to go now", Neymar finally said, quickly kissing my cheek, "I'll see you there. Gil calls you once he’s here to pick you up!"

The first half of the match went pretty calm, no goals and not too many fouls. I was just happy I didn’t really get noticed by anyone. Only ten minutes into the second half, Neymar scored the first goal for PSG. Guilherme, Gil and I got up from our seats, clapping and cheering. That was when Neymar jogged up to our side of the field and blowed me a kiss with a wide smile on his face. I felt my cheeks blushing as all heads in the crowd turned in my direction. Gil noticed how uncomfortable I gor and decided to distract the crowd by blowing a kiss back to Ney, screaming out "Oh my God, I love you Neymar" in a high pitched voice, acting like a fangirl. I started laughing and sat down again. "That’s Neymars girlfriend, she’s so pretty", a girl a few rows in front of me said. I smiled at her widely as her boyfriend turned around to look at me. "Bruna is prettier", he simply stated. I tilted my head, my smile widened in a provocative way and I waved at him before showing him my middle finger. Guilherme started laughing while Gilmar almost choked on his drink. "Y/N, you can’t do that", he said, "Your Neymar Jrs girlfriend! Adding to that, you’ll be a lawyer soon." I shrugged my shoulders and continued to watch the match. "And what about it? Aren’t lawyers allowed to fight and defend themselves outside of the court?" Guilherme held his hand up for a high five that I returned.

The match ended, PSG won 2-0. The boys and I were waiting for Neymar outside the stadium. "Hey babe", Neymar greeted me and kissed my cheek, Marco following closely behind him. "So you wanna come over to my place and celebrate the win?", Marco asked after politely nodding at me. Neymars facial expression turned from happy into sad as he heavily breathed out. "I can’t", he responded, wrapping one arm around my shoulder, "Y/N leaves tomorrow." Marcos nod told us he was absolutely understanding. "It’s sucks you're already leaving, but it was a pleasure to see you again", he grinned and hugged me before we said our goodbyes and got into our cars.

At the airport, I hid my face in Neymars chest, refusing to let him go as the tears continued to stream down my face. By the way his body slightly flinched from time to time, I knew he was close to tears as well. "Calm down meu anjo, I promise I'll do everything I can to visit you as soon as possible", he whispered, stroking the back of my head and kissing my forehead. I looked up at him and saw a single tear rolling down his cheek. "I love you so much", I sobbed, hugging him even tighter than before, "I really can’t do this anymore. I can’t be this far away from you all the time." Neymar pulled away a bit, only so much that we were face to face. "I'll be there soon, I promise you Y/N. Please keep on focusing on your studies. No matter what happens, I'm right here waiting for you - or waiting for you to call me over. I love you." The last call for my flight. I grabbed my suitcase and fell right into his arms for the ultimate time. "I love you", I repeated again and again until I finally walked away from him slowly, not able to take my eyes off of him.

[your-mommy-ems]

6

 Maximilien 

That weekend, I find myself in the main atelier, looking over at the collection again. That’s when I realize the patterns on the model, assumingly supposed to be Amaryllis’s, don’t look right. There’s a bunch of them drawn out on the table too, and as I examine them, I frown. I have no idea who’s fucking measurements they’re using, but I know for a fact it’s not hers. And my suspicion is confirmed when I see a sticky note on the table, with measurements that definitely aren’t hers. 

I sigh. Don’t tell me they’ve been wasting their time tracing these out. We need it done as soon as possible, we still have to run test shoots in two weeks for now and we’ve barely got three months to finish everything before the next season begins. 

Begrudgingly, I pick up my phone and tap the number my dad sent to me just in case. Amaryllis picks up after a multitude of rings. “Hello?”

She still sounds sleepy. I smile to myself, knowing I’ve caught her when she’s still half awake, despite it being ten in the morning. “Good morning. Are you-”

“Oh my god,” she groans. “What do you want? It’s literally ten in the morning. Disrespectfully, fuck off.”

“Noted with thanks. What are you doing right now?”

“Thinking if I’m capable of murdering you.”

“You’re not. Are you free today?”

“I don’t wanna go in,” she complains. “Why?”

“I need to retake your measurements, they messed it up with someone else’s. Send me your address, I’ll go over.”

“Send me your address. Take it off. You have too many opinions,” she mocks, dropping her voice in a weak attempt to mimic mine. “You’re so bossy. Can we switch to FaceTime so you can see me giving you my middle finger?” 

“No, we cannot. Don’t be difficult, Miss Anderson,” I say, knowing the name pisses her off. 

“I’ll be even more difficult if you keep calling me that.” She hangs up, and I think that’s it, until a notification appears at the top of my screen, an address followed by an insult. 

I pocket my phone, shaking my head and smirking. 

Amaryllis

The doorbell rings. From my room on the second floor of the penthouse, I groan. Still in my pajamas, I drag myself down to open the door. 

Dammit. He’s in his stupid suit, tie straightened and pinned. I didn’t even know people still did that. Meanwhile, my hair is tamed down with only my fingers, and I’m wearing fluffy house slippers and a vintage Victoria’s Secret nightgown. I scowl before stepping aside to let him in. 

“Good morning,” he greets politely, the mockery in his tone evident. 

“Wrong,” I correct, “Bad morning.” 

“I’m glad I can make your day worse.” He produces a measuring tape from the inner pocket of his blazer jacket. 

I groan, sprawling myself out lazily on the sofa. 

“Come on. I can finish this in less than half an hour if you cooperate,” he says like someone would to an irritating child. Although I’m pretty sure he sees me as one. How old is this guy, even? 

“How old are you?”

“Why does that matter? Do you only date guys above a certain age?”

I pull a face at him. A small furrow forms between his brows. That little crease seems to be present whenever I am. “‘M just curious. Answer my question.”

“Twenty five.” 

I nod. I close my eyes, leaning back on the sofa. He sighs. “You’re wasting my time.”

“You woke me up. Deal with it.”

“Are you trying to find reasons to spend time with me?”

“In case you hadn’t noticed,” I point out, “we’ve only been alone in the same room twice. And both of those times were initiated by you.”

“Well, you did agree.”

“Do I really have a choice?”

“No, I suppose you don’t. Now am I just going to stand here while you nap even though you’ve just woken up or can I actually leave by eleven?”

“If dragging it out means I’m annoying you, then the first. Even if it’s annoying me too. You know-” I open my eyes, “you’re so bossy. It’s obnoxious.”

“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow. “I’m obnoxious? You’re the one picking fights like a stubborn, dramatic, five year old. If either of us are obnoxious, it’s not me.”

“See, the fact that you think so highly of yourself not to see it-“

“I do not- oh, you’re impossible. Now hurry up and stand up so I can get this done.”

“You’re not sneezy today,” I note, closing my eyes again. 

“I didn’t notice you spent so much effort counting the number of times I sneeze.”

“I don’t. It’s just that your nose always does this thing,” I wrinkle my nose to mirror him, “and it’s not doing it today.”

“Enough sneeze-talk. Stand up, Amaryllis.”

My eyes shoot open, and I look up at him with a smile. I tilt my head. “What did you call me?”

He looks away and sighs. “If I called you Miss Anderson your immature self would pick a petty fight again, and I’m not going to entertain that.”

“I am not immature. I can be mature when I feel like it, and if I was right now, then the both of us would just be snobby and stuck up and that’ll be no fun.” I extend my arm. “Pull me up.”

He shakes his head, grabbing my wrist and pulling me up. “Have you had breakfast yet?”

“I don’t eat breakfast.”

“Fine.” 

I stand, arms out, as he drags the tape—and his fingertips—over me. Down the lengths of my arm, around my bicep, lightly over my wrist. 

I flinch. “That’s ticklish.”

“Stand still.” 

He notes the measurements down in his phone. Then he stands up, drawing the measuring tape around my chest without warning. I blink up at him, flustered as he pinches the tape between his two fingers to take a look at the exact reading. Suddenly, I’m all too aware of the shallow rise and fall of my chest, my breasts pushing against the tape through the thin silk material of my nightgown with each movement. 

Then he drops the tape. My sigh is inaudible.  

“Your face is pink,” he comments, circling the tape around my waist after getting my bust measurements down into his phone. 

I scowl. “Okay, and?” 

“Nothing.” A hint of a smile plays on his lips. “Just an observation.” 

“I didn’t ask for your observations,” I flick his shoulder. 

“And neither do I ever ask for yours.” 

I roll my eyes. If I was told I’d have to see this guy almost every day for the next three months, I would’ve considered before accepting the job. I mean, I would say yes either way, but I wouldn’t have accepted immediately. 

I raise my eyes to his. He’s looking down at his phone, but I can still see his eyes. A ring of amber that blends into green, like the colors melted into the other. 

Maximilien

I feel Amaryllis’s eyes on me, but I pretend not to notice—or not to care. Tucking my phone in my pocket, I kneel down. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I need your thigh measurements too, you know,” I state. 

“Do you though? I mean-”

I shut her up by circling the tape around her thigh, just where her tiny nightdress ends. Her muscles tense and I grin to myself. “Why’re you clenching your thighs?” 

“Shut the fuck up. It’s a sensitive area, okay?” 

“Sure, whatever you say.” I go back to taking measurements as normal, and go back to measuring as normal. 

Without the overpowering scent of her perfume, she actually smells nice. Still the same vanilla scent, but only if I’m close enough to her—which I am right now. But she’s a lot more bearable without that stupid perfume. In fact, I’d hang around her if she always smelled like this. 

Amaryllis must feel awkward, because out of nowhere, she rambles, “So, can I call you, like, Max or something? Maximilien is such a mouthful. Also, who even spells Maximilian with an E? That’s so weird.” 

“It’s French. You’re welcome to call me Adrien if it means you’ll stop making fun of my name. No Max.” 

“Why not Max?” 

“I just don’t like it.”

“Adrien,” she says once, then repeats it again to test the word out. “Adrien? Maximilien. Yeah, no, Adrien is way better. But Maximilien is still kinda a shit name. I hate the name Max too, but I might just call you that since it annoys you.” 

“It does not annoy me,” I sigh. “It’s just not my preferred name.” 

“Whatever, Max. You know, you don’t seem to get annoyed easily. Matter of fact, you don’t seem to feel anything easily at all, except for- I dunno, stuck-up-ness.”

“Firstly, the word is arrogance,” I correct, standing up again. “And secondly, I do have emotions, whether you believe it or not. It’s just easier to not display everything I feel on my face, unlike some people.” I glance pointedly at her pouty lips. 

“Well, now that you’re done, are you gonna get out of my house?” 

“You’re a terrible hostess, you know that?” I tuck the measuring tape back into my pocket, shaking my head. 

“To be fair, I didn’t even invite you.”

“Still. Aren’t you going to offer me a drink?” I egg her on. One feeling that will always register on my face? The little smirk I can’t hold back when it comes to teasing her. 

“No. I hope you die of dehydration and crash your car on the way home.” She rolls her eyes, but I can see her smile. 

“I feel like you’re the physical equivalent of ‘I woke up and chose violence’.” 

“Me? Violent? Only verbally, but then you are too.” She places her hands on her hips. Her nipples peak through the silky pink material of her dress, and I’ve been trying my best to be respectful. 

Honestly, nothing about her wants me to be respectful. In all the ways. From her bitchy behavior and oozing confidence to her suggestive movements. 

If I could, I’d-

I shove the thought out of my head. Change of plans, I don’t want to stick around to annoy her anymore. I have to go before my thoughts become…anything other than professional. “Fine. I’ll see you Monday.”

She pouts at me, then laughs. “Sadly.” 

-💋

OOOH OOOH I LOVE LOVE LOVE..

And finally we find about the adrien part!! I kinda wanna know why he likes being called adrien now hehe. But this was SOOO good!!

ps: sorry this took me a while to respond to.

[giantroboticplatypusbutt218]

Losing my mind. Ugh...

Xfinity just loves to be a dick, huh? First they barely notify me that they plan to deduct 5$ from my billing discount if I don't switch from my card to my bank account number by a certain date, that date being only hours away from when I finally saw the email warning me. Apparently they sent an email like a month earlier, but it didn't look much different from all the fucking spam they send me.

Then, when I'm racing against the clock to put in my information, the site is running so fucking slowly. Dear god it was quicker to watch Youtube on my PC by picking up the mobile wi-fi from my mom's phone than it was to wade through a sea of links to get through the billing settings. Worse yet, the site would just not fucking load pages or give me an error sometimes.

Then while putting in my info, which involved swapping from my bank's page to Xfinity's page frequently and not taking any breaks because both would log you off for inactivity, I go to click the option for set my payment information, and it gives me a fucking error! So I go to redo the whole fucking process, and it wouldn't let me access the page! There are like minutes left until I'm screwed at this point.

I somehow managed to get back to the information page, put my info in AGAIN, and actually get Xfinity to accept my new payment method this time. It takes too long, but I also went back and confirmed it had saved my payment information.

So, things are good from there, right? HAHA. NOPE!

Thanks to my newfound paranoia from Xfinity's payment method jumpscare, I somewhat started to manage checking my email daily. Well, I saw that my payment went through and it was the correct amount, which is good! However, I didn't get an email saying my checking account was below 50.00, which it should have been if the payment went through.

Well, I figured that since my bank's online stuff runs a bit funky, it would be fine to just relax and wait a bit longer for the notification. But later, since I had a doctor's appointment the next day, I decided to check my bank account to double check I had the funds for any copays. Yeah so 3AM is not a great time to see that the payment probably didn't actually go through, at least not on my account. So like, I go to Xfinity's site to make sure I put in the right information, and after wading through the same bullshit again, I learn that I literally can't look at my full bank account number to verify I typed it in correctly.

Needless to say, it was too late to be dealing with that shit, and there literally wasn't anything I could do about it at that moment, so I decided I'd figure out what the hell's going on and maybe try to fix it after my doctor's appointment.

Yeah, so, I woke up at around 2 PM and the appointment was around 3 PM and after we got out sometimes after 4 PM my mom and I had a lot of stuff to do and we didn't get home until around like 7 PM. I relaxed a bit and then checked my bank. Yep. Transaction's still not there. And to add insult to injury, the next day was a national holiday, it wasn't like I could do anything about it then.

Checked my bank on the holiday, and yep. Payment's still not there. As if I wasn't insulted enough, Xfinity sends an email asking me to take a survey about my recent payment and if I'd recommend that payment method to friends and family.

I wouldn't even recommend Xfinity to friends and family.

[jvngkook97]

Killing Me Softly

synopsis; you wake up from a night of fun, yet one you barely remember. your vampire bff ghosts you and your past comes to haunt you in the worst way possible. OR they say that blood is thicker than water, but what do you do when the person you trust most turns out to be the monster you’ve always been warned about?

pairing; vampire!jungkook x human!reader

genre; angst, fluff, humor, horror, smut(for later chapters), f2l, vampire au

warnings; cursing, jealousy, lots of confusion on reader’s part, moments of self doubt, flashbacks, mentions of blood, mentions of committing a violent act, familiar faces, soft vampire!koo moments, more horror tropes, some new competition for reader??

rating; 21+ MINORS DNI

w/c; 5,444

a/n; FIRST OFF THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE. this is part two of ‘sucker for love’. highly recommend reading that first chapter in order to understand what’s going on. don’t be a silent reader! <3 i can’t express enough how much all of your kind words and encouragement genuinely fuel my inspiration. feedback is always appreciated and helps keep this writer motivated in order to put out more content – like this! all the love, always.

networks; @thebtswritersclub, @btshoneyhive, @kflixnet, @k-vanity

01. 02. 03

“Have we learned our lesson now?”

Your roommate, Valerie, leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom, arms crossed over her chest. You flipped her the middle finger without looking, head still inside the toilet as your stomach relieved itself of whatever poison you ingested. An insult was on the tip of your tongue, but was silenced by another strong heave taking over. She had a point, you were never good when it came to parties and going overboard on drinking, but you would never admit it to her.

Your stomach was still churning from last night’s events, but settled enough for you to sit back against the wall of the bathtub and actually try to think on what the fuck happened. The last thing you remember clearly is Jungkook ditching you, hanging out with Jimin and Yoongi who saved you from being a loner at Namjoon’s party, leaving said party to head to another party once Namjoon shut his down with a group of people you weren’t quite familiar with, and then – nothing. Literally, nothing. It’s all a blank in your mind.

November 1st, 2022 9:04am

When you woke up this morning, you were in your own bed. Your head was a rat’s nest, your makeup was smeared, your clothes were dirty, ripped, and there was little specks of blood on the collar of your costume. Upon further inspection, you realize your cape was long gone and one of your heels was broken. So how you managed to get home on one working heel is beyond you.

What boggled your mind further was the flurry of texts you found on your phone once you plugged it in to charge. Apparently, your phone died sometime during your nightly shenanigans. Reading the texts, it was Jimin asking you where you were and if you were okay. Multiple calls and voicemails followed.

He sounded worried, scared even.

But, that made no sense, why would he feel the need to be so worried about you? Wasn’t he with you the whole time? Yoongi? As soon as you could focus well enough to type out a reply, you told him that you were at home and alive and left it at that. Shortly after sending, the ‘read’ notification pops up, those three bubbles form, and then disappear. You give him another few minutes, but they never return. Huffing, you throw your phone carelessly on the bed, it bounces off and lands on the floor.

Groaning in annoyance, you sink to your knees next to your bed when you realize it must’ve slid underneath when it bounced. Feeling around, your hand bumps into something sharp. You flinch and hiss, cradling your hand to your chest as you inspect the little dot of blood that builds on your fingertip. What the hell?

Now laying sideways on your stomach on the floor, your head turned to look under your bed, you get a better view. Instantly, you hone in on your phone, then use the flashlight on it to illuminate the sharp mystery object.

It was a knife. A bloody knife.

Your eyes widen in horror.

What did you do last night?

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

November 5th, 2022 7:52pm

Remember, remember—

You needed answers.

You needed to remember.

Ones that would explain why you’re currently concealing a potential murder weapon that’s now wrapped in an old raggedy shirt, in a dusty old shoebox, underneath your queen sized bed that ironically has a ‘Halloween’ themed throw blanket on top of it. The main antagonist wielding a knife that looked the exact same, the tip of it also adorning blood.

What can you say?

You’re a major fan of horror movies.

That’s not suspicious at all, though, right? It wouldn’t scream that you have a bloody knife of your own hidden just beneath the surface, right?

Even as you tug down the sleeves of your Freddy Krueger replica sweater you bought from Hot Topic in hopes of fighting off the bone chilly air of November, your thoughts are not only on the fact you may or may not have participated in someone’s demise last night, but they also drift to Jungkook who you haven’t heard or seen since he left you on Halloween night.

Normally, on nights where he has to feed, you wake up in the morning with him in your room just reading one of your books. The curtains are drawn, but he basks in the little warmth of the sun that his skin can handle as he lounges on your reading nook. Generally, it’s a Stephen King novel. He’s finished majority of them. Those days are the best, cause he chooses to be with you, knowing he can’t leave until it gets dark again.

Getting lost in thought, you mindlessly keep walking down the cobblestone path that’s usually quite popular with locals, but right now is barren all except for you—

—and the black cat that scurries across your feet, making you fumble before catching your footing in time so as not to fall flat on your face. The split second fall triggers both an adrenaline rush and a memory you thought you suppressed. You freeze. The wind whips your hair back and forth, some strands get stuck on your wet, slightly parted lips. Your eyes are unblinking, lost in the nightmare. The creases of your eyes begin to fill with tears and you feel a scream bubbling up your throat—

A hand on your shoulder brings you back.

You blink, the tears cease. You close your mouth, pushing your hair behind your ear. Turning around, you follow the hand to the body it’s attached too. Confusion flickers on your face, then is replaced by surprise.

It was the girl. Dracula girl.

From the party.

The ‘lady of the night’ that Jungkook chose.

She’s wearing a tight smile, lips painted a light red. It’s a sharp contrast that stands out against her pale, almost ghostly white skin. Though, that’s not what shocks you the most.

No, it’s her eyes.

Her red eyes.

“You’re y/n, right? Jungkook told me about you. Have a moment to talk?”

What the fuck did Jungkook do that night?

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

“No.”

Your voice is hard, resolute. Your hands dig into the fabric of your jeans that are hidden from the top of one of the wooden picnic tables scattered throughout the local park. Your body is shaking, but it’s not from the cold. You refuse to believe what she – Jules – just told you.

It was impossible.

“Yes. It was your roommate. Valerie.”

Memories flash through your mind of the many years you’ve spent being best friends with your roommate, Valerie. She had her weird quirks, sure. Maybe you thought it was a bit strange when she would go out every Halloween by herself and never tell you where she goes. But besides that, she was just your sarcastic, mutual horror enthusiast, slightly odd and reserved best friend. You didn’t think she was capable of murder.

Nonetheless, be the hunter of vampires.

When you met Valerie, it wasn’t too long after the incident. It was at this local hole in the wall two in one book store and cafe called ‘Novels and Noodles’. You were slurping on some noodles when she first walked in. Your eyes flickered to hers for a moment, but then you went back to eating and paying no mind. A seat was open opposite you that she soon took upon herself to occupy, yet still, you didn’t bother attempting small talk. Back then, you became more reserved and cautious of those around you. He being the sole cause of it.

“Have an interest with vampires?”

After one last loud ‘slurp’ of a noodle, you pushed your now empty bowl aside and dabbed your mouth with a napkin before speaking. Bookmarking your page in the book you were reading, ‘Vampires for Dummies’, you then folded your hands on top of it and looked at her, fully.

Her style stood out the most to you. It was very gothic, yet girly. Mainly black, with subtle bursts of color here and there. Kinda like how you liked to dress when you weren’t wearing horror franchise merchandise. She had a few extra piercings in her ears where a small silver, slender dagger hung off a chain from her left ear. A necklace of a silver cross dangled surreptitiously between the exposed cleavage of her breasts due to the low cut neckline of her shirt as she leaned towards you with her elbows on the table, hands flat. A variety of rings were on her fingers, but one always stood out to you, cause it looked like a family crest you would see from the medieval days.

“I do, do you?”

“You could say that. Do you believe in ghosts?”

“I don’t have the ability of seeing them like Cole Sear, but I do believe in the idea of an afterlife.”

“I see dead people.”

You gave a snort at her reference, especially since she made an effort to sound small and scared to recite the line, leaning her body even more towards yours to the point of no longer sitting in her chair and rather fully bending in half over the table so you can hear her whisper it clearly.

She gave a light cackle of laughter as she plopped herself back down in her chair, her smile wide with mischief and eyes full of trouble. It was then that you knew you would get along well. Nothing was suspicious about her then, but now you wish you did ask the question that was on the tip of your tongue. Maybe you wouldn’t be as shocked as you were right now.

Jules atleast had the decency to play the part of a sympathetic human being, but you knew she found the whole thing entertaining, if not for the slight twitch of the curve of her lips that she tried to conceal with her hand over her mouth.

“Can we start at the beginning? Please? Like what the fuck happened the night of Halloween?”

“Well, you know I left with Jungkook.”

“Yes, well aware, thank you. But what happened after that?”

Her once playful demeanor turned into a more closed in one. Her smile dropped, flipping upside down into a frown. Her eyes became hollow as she stared at you, yet right through you at the same time. For a minute, she actually did look human.

“He took me to that cemetery that’s a few streets away, I can’t remember the name–,” her brows furrowed as she genuinely tried to remember it. You decided to help her out.

“Pearly Gates?”

She snapped her fingers, pointing at you to indicate you were right.

“That’s the one. We were–,”

You put a hand up, dumbfounded look on your face.

“Wait, wait, wait. You willingly went with him to a cemetery so late at night? You didn’t see that as some kind of red flag?”

She chooses to ignore you completely in favor of continuing the story. She knows you’re not wrong, she should’ve seen the multiple red flags, but by the time her rose colored glasses were removed – it was too late.

“We were strolling through gravestones for almost 10 minutes, then he made us stop at this above ground mausoleum that was located near the back. I remember thinking the design was so beautiful. It blew my mind the amount of intricate detail that was used on it, even though it was centuries old.”

For a few minutes she got lost in explaining the design in vivid details, and though you agreed with her completely, you were getting impatient.

“Right. Yes. Sounds amazing. And then?”

She pauses midway through her spiel to give you a piercing glare, but obliges your request.

“He had a key. We went inside. We made out. He’s really skilled with his–,”

“I do not need those vivid details, thank you.”

She just shrugs you off with a sinister smirk painted on her lips.

“I thought he was going to leave a hickey with the amount of pressure I was feeling against my neck, but before I knew it his teeth were sinking into me and surprisingly I didn’t care.”

You blanched at her words.

“Uh, what?”

“Honestly? Yeah, it hurts at first. But eventually it just feels so fucking good.” Her voice gradually turns light and airy at the end of her statement, eyes glossing over as if she’s reliving the moment right there in front of you.

A feeling grows within you at her reaction. Jealousy. It was stupid, it was illogical, but there it was. Casually growing within you, and soon, it’ll take over and blossom into a flower of chaos. You’re sure of it. For now, it was but a vine, but as it curls around your insides and slithers it’s way towards your heart, thorns prick and dig in to ensure a home within you.

“That’s when she came. Your roommate. Knocked on the side of the threshold to announce herself, twirling a wooden stake in one hand, and the other was placed on the hilt of what looked to be a knife that was latched in a sheath on her belt loop.”

Her breathing began to pick up, eyes now downcast on the table in front of you. For the first time since she started talking, you felt your own sympathy for the newly turned vampire. She didn’t ask for this, that much was certain. The only question that remained was as to why Jungkook decided to turn her – or rather what occurred to spur the life altering decision.

Offering a moment of solidarity between you both, you place one hand over hers on the table. If she’s consoled by it, she makes no move to show, though she does describe the events in morbid detail.

“She was so fast, aiming the stake for Jungkook. That much so, it didn’t register to either her or I when the stake missed Jungkook, who was gone in a flash it felt like, and instead sunk in right below my breast.”

Your eyes widened. You stayed silent.

“As I looked at her, she showed no remorse. Not an ounce. At least Jungkook had the decency to show some semblance of guilt. Probably why he ended up turning me after their little fight was over and she fled, couldn’t handle the fact that an innocent life was taken in place of his. Whatever it was, as much as I appreciate the gesture of goodwill–,”

Her voice quieted, eyes remained downcast as she spoke her next words with eerie confidence and absolute truth.

“I wish he had just left me to die.”

A sharp inhale could be heard from your end as you squeeze her hand to comfort her in the only way you as a human know how.

“She only used the stake that night, correct? Not the knife?”

She finally tears her gaze from the splintering wood to stare at your curious ones.

“Yes. Just the stake. Why?”

“Fuck.”

You let go of her hand in favor of running yours through your hair anxiously. It causes Jules to now stare at you in curiosity.

“Why are you so worried about the knife, y/n?”

You bite your lip, contemplating on whether or not you can actually divulge such a truth, then think, fuck it.

“There’s a bloody knife hidden in a dusty ass shoebox underneath my bed right now and I have no remembrance of how it came into my possession or why there’s even blood. Safe to say, I’m freaking the fuck out.”

“You think you actually have the gall to murder someone? Or do you believe it’s the same knife as your vampire hunter roommate?”

“The latter, hopefully. But if you didn’t see her use it, that begs the question on if she used it later on that night, or I did.”

“That’s quite the conundrum you’re in, y/n.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Blowing out a puff of glacial air, you glance at the lock screen on your phone that’s been laying on the table next to you the entire time. Not once has it gone off, but when you tap the screen and see Jungkook’s fangy smile, does your heart drop into your stomach.

Working up the nerve, you once again look across into the eyes of Jules.

“Where’s Jungkook?”

Her shoulders raise as she lets out her own puff of air, her body going lax with indifference.

“No idea. Woke up in his house, he gave me some lessons on how to be a good vampire for a couple of days, then left on some kind of quest–,” she puts air quotes up. “–his words not mine. Gave me your address and showed me a picture of you incase I wanted some company that knew about vampires. Then promised he would be back soon and to behave.”

“How did you know the person who attacked you was my roommate then?”

“Oh, he told me. He didn’t sound surprised with her appearance though. It’s like they had some sort of familiarity with each other as they fought. Like they could predict each other’s moves. It was weird.”

“What the fuck.”

You were thoroughly confused. How the hell could they know each other and not tell you?

“That’s what I’ve been saying from the moment I was reborn, as Jungkook so poetically spewed at me.”

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

After your epiphany of a talk with Jules, who swore up and down she wouldn’t go on a killing spree in your small town, you found yourself once again walking back home. Instead of the short, creepy, dark forest route — you opted for the long way home surrounded by various mom and pop outlet stores and eateries.

Big mistake. You should’ve known that being from your small town and daring to venture near a popular hangout strip of said town would promote the dreaded small talk to occur with people you’d rather avoid at the moment.

“Y/N!”

You pretend to not hear the owner of the voice in hopes they’ll leave you alone, picking up your pace. It does nothing to dissuade them from getting closer and using one of their long, lanky, arms to swivel around your shoulder and veer your short frame towards their broad chest. Your feet tangle in the process, and you lean more into the figure in hopes of regaining your footing sooner rather than later.

Their other arm joins the first to fully envelope your body with theirs in a now tight hug, something they’re famously known for. That and–

They pull away enough for you to inhale a good amount of fresh air, before your lips feel a chaste pressure against them. The feeling is light and feathery, then it’s gone just as quick as it arrived. A boxy smile is now taking up your entire line of vision and you internally groan at the male before you, Taehyung — your ex.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, y/n! How’ve you been?”

“Oh, you know. Chilling, killing.”

He lets out an exaggerated bellow of laughter that he leans his whole body backwards to get into. You take the chance to slither out of his hold and gain a few feet of sweet, sweet distance. You purse your lips, only half joking with your statement, since you’re still not sure what the story is behind the bloody knife.

“Ever the horror fanatic. You haven’t changed one bit, y/n.”

“Nope.”

“When Jimin told me that you hung out at a party, I must say, I was very surprised. Never thought you would step foot in one since you didn’t seem interested in them when we were dating.”

Jimin. Right. Though your ex left town years ago, even before the incident, he makes a point to come back every now and then to visit his dear friend. Maybe this meeting can be fruitful for you after all. You just have to endure his touchy, feely personality for a little while longer.

“Yeah, well. You know better than anyone that people change, Taehyung.”

His smile is still present on his face, but it becomes more tight, losing its previous sincerity. He clears his throat and goes to talk when he’s interrupted by another voice you recognize.

“Leave y/n alone, Taehyung. She doesn’t want to hear about your ridiculously expensive travel expeditions.”

You can see Taehyung’s face clearly annoyed when he rolls his eyes at the comment made on his lifestyle. It takes all you have not to laugh, biting your lip to prevent the smile that wanted to make it’s debut at the male’s displeasure. Taehyung turns sideways to make some kind of snarky, yet good natured retort back and thus shows your savior in all his glory.

Min Yoongi. One half of the truth that occurred that Halloween night. Maybe he could help shed some light on the shadowed memories of your mind.

Yoongi makes a point to step inbetween you both, hands firmly tucked into his black windbreaker. His medium length long hair whips back and forth for a moment when the wind kicks up, leaves caressing your feet and ankles due to the strong gust. Some even float across your face that you subconsciously follow with your eyes until it becomes one with the night sky.

It’s not until Yoongi addresses you with a warm hand on your shoulder blade, does your attention get diverted back. Thankfully, Taehyung is long gone, presumably within the confines of one of the many stores around you.

“You feeling okay, y/n?” His voice is both the usual monotone, yet there’s a hint of warmth within the question, as if he’s genuinely concerned with your well being.

It takes you a moment to digest, then repress the urge to lay everything on the poor, unsuspecting guy. He doesn’t need to get dragged into your shitty problems.

“I’m uh, good. Thank you.”

You try to sound convincing, you do. But he sees right through the minuscule tremble in your voice and narrows his almond shaped eyes into yours.

“You’re a terrible liar. You know that?”

A nervous grin appears, and you hug yourself in an attempt to play it off. He was always too keen on reading nonverbal cues, being ever the silent one for as long as you’ve known him. Him preferring to talk with gestures and grunts.

“Did they do anything to you?”

Your brows furrow in confusion, head tilting to the side.

“Who are they?”

“You don’t remember?”

“No…? Should I?”

He runs the hand that was once on your shoulder, now through his silky black hair. He puffs his cheeks for a second, then let’s it go.

“I knew I shouldn’t have let you go with them. But your friend was with them so I thought–,” he scuffles his foot on the wet cobblestone beneath you in aggravation.

“What friend, Yoongi?”

“I’m not good with names, uhm. Veronica? Vicky?”

“Valerie.”

“Her. Yes. She was with these guys who were all dressed in the same black garb and wore this white mask, it was weird. She was the only girl, but didn’t seem intimidated in the least bit by them. And now that I think about it..,”

You may have been physically in front of him, but in your mind you were far away. Men in black, with white masks? The only image that fits that description for you is one from your nightmares. You can feel your heart rate increase, and it takes everything in you not to break down in front of Yoongi.

“…neither did you, y/n. Actually, you went more than willingly. What made me cautious for your safety was the knife that your friend was brandishing so haphazardly in front of your face as she waved bye to us and you all were gone.”

“Knife? Like, a real knife? Not a prop?”

He nods his head in answer before explaining his reasoning.

“Would’ve thought it was fake, had it not been for the glare that caught my eye and reflected back on your face.”

“Huh, that’s quite–,”

“Horrifying?”

“Fun.”

He deadpans at your joke.

“Kidding! It’s all good. I’m alive, aren’t I?”

“Y/N–,”

You take a step back, shooting finger guns at him.

“Gotta jet. But it was nice talking with you. See you around!”

Before he can utter a reply, your figure becomes nothing but a dot in the distance until he loses sight of you completely. He lets out a low exhale, face void of emotion. You didn’t give him the chance to tell you one small, minor, detail from that night.

That right before you left with the group, he could swear that your eyes flashed this mixed shade of your usual color and red.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

“What a fucking day.”

You mumble face down in your pillow as you ungracefully threw yourself on your bed, having finally made it back home to the safe confines of your bedroom without running into anyone else. Not even your roommate, who seems to be out and about, and for that, you’re grateful. Lord knows you’re not good at acting.

“Tell me about it. What took you so long to come back home?”

Your head instantly shoots up and you lock eyes with a welcomed intruder who seems to have made themselves comfortable on your reading nook, a decent sized book held in one hand lazily as he flips the page with a bored expression. His focus is on the words, his eyes moving back and forth as he reads.

“You little shit.”

Your hostile tone is what causes his eyes to flicker to yours in amusement, one brow arching in question. Bookmarking the page, he closes the book gently, laying it on the window sill next to him before slowly standing up to his full height. You scramble to your own feet, standing on the bed.

When he gets close enough, you flying squirrel yourself at him, him catching your body effortlessly. Your legs hook around his waist, arms securing around his neck as you bury your face into his cool skin. Your words are muffled as you speak, and he can’t hear you clearly when you berate him.

“What was that? I don’t speak mumble, y/n.”

His voice is teasing, as he mindlessly and ceremoniously breathes in your comforting scent with closed eyes. Oh, how he’s missed this.

How he’s missed you.

When you break away enough to be face to face with him, he’s surprised to see tears streaming down your face. His once playful exterior turns into one of concern, his mouth opening to question your current state, but there’s no need when you explain in detail what’s been going on the last few days.

He takes it all in, all the while maneuvering you both to your bed where your butt still rests on his closed legs. His hands now find purpose in cupping the sides of your face, his thumbs wiping away the tears as they come. When you finish, and the tears slowly dry, does he speak.

“I guess now is a good time as any to come clean.”

“Jungkook? What do you mean?”

“About your roommate, your best friend, Valerie.”

You don’t miss the way he sharpens his tongue when he says the words, and you wonder if he’s jealous, or just downright loathes her.

“Yes, that would be fantastic.”

“We should get more comfy, it’s gonna be awhile.”

He then goes on to explain how their paths initially crossed. It was long before you ever came into the picture. Back then, she wasn’t alone in her pursuit of him and rather preferred to hunt in a group. Much to your dismay, he confirms Yoongi’s prior description of the people she hangs around with and what they wear. It makes your breathing hitch. He notices, pausing in his rant to make sure you’re okay with him touching on the next subject of your attacker and that traumatic night. All you do is nod. He continues.

When he saw your attacker in the same outfit as the ones who hung out with Valerie, he knew that she must be closing in on his whereabouts. Something, he said, he’s been successful up until this point with concealing. It wasn’t until he caught sight of her with you at the bookstore where you first met her, that he knew positively she was back.

He never in his wildest dreams imagined that she would go so far as to use you to get closer in killing him. He wanted to believe she just wanted to make an honest friend of you, and so he made sure to only come to you on the days she was gone so as not to intervene. So long as she didn’t hurt you, he didn’t see any problems with you maintaining the friendship.

That was, until Halloween night.

She showed up with her usual minions in tow, but what he didn’t expect was for your little red riding hood costume clad figure to be standing next to her, with a knife.

Your eyes widened in horror at his next words.

“…..that’s when you stabbed me, but don’t worry, it can’t kill me obviously. And it’s already healed. What I don’t know is how she was able to control you. That is the mystery I’m currently trying to solve.”

“You’re saying that the bloody knife that I hid underneath my bed has your blood all over it?”

“Yes, but y/n, you have to realize–,”

It physically pains him when you tear yourself away from him as if he’s a raging fire and you just got third degree burns. Even more when you place yourself as far away from him as possible with the guiltiest look on your face he’s ever seen anyone wear.

His eyes soften, and he cautiously gets up to walk close to your shaking form.

“Y/N, love–,”

A broken whimper comes from you, and if he had a heart, it would be split in two at this point.

“It’s not your fault, okay? I don’t blame you, I’m not mad at you. And I’m fine. See?”

He shrugs his jacket off to then unbutton his long sleeved dress shirt. Sliding his right arm out of the material, he showcases his now bare chest to you. You inch closer and he grabs your extended hand to place it on the spot right above his heart. The skin there is flawless, no blemish in sight. Even though your fingers still glide over his cooled skin and you can feel the truth in his words, you believe your eyes are just deceiving you, letting you see only what you want to see in order to keep you sane.

“This is where it went in, and let me once again reiterate that it was. Not. You.”

His hands are on your shoulders, lightly shaking you. His voice is firm, yet soft.

“I know my y/n wouldn’t hurt a fly–,”

“I own a fly swatter and have murdered millions of fly families.”

He ignores you.

“–nonetheless me. Just like I would never hurt you. I’m just sorry I wasn’t there to prevent them from using you.”

“I’m sorry, koo.”

Your voice is small, so small, it’s a good thing he has very good hearing or he wouldn’t have heard your sorrowful apology. It makes his undead heart weep.

“Baby, come here.”

He pulls you taught against his chest and you take solace in his embrace. As he sways you both back and forth, you know you should be focused on solely him, but your mind can’t help but wander to forbidden, repressed territory.

It only makes you press further into him until you both are essentially one, your shaking increasing as well as the sound of your muffled sobs. Later, you’ll apologize for getting his shirt all wet and throw it in the dryer to make dry.

A loud slamming of the front door is what ceases your movement, your breathing. A voice echoes throughout your apartment and your fear only heightens.

“Y/N! You home, girl? I got this new horror movie that just went straight to DVD and plenty of snacks to fill our bellies!”

Her footsteps quiet, before becoming louder as she decreases the distance between the living room and yours. You can even hear the jingle of her metal chain belt she chose to wear today, the clinking only making the weight in your chest that much more prominent.

You and Jungkook look at each other.

Valerie was home, with Jungkook in your room.

Shit.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

taglist; @hoseokteardrop, @thunderstormsandrainbows, @tea4sykes, @slinekyu, @dif-imagines, @thedarkwinterrose, @whipwhoops, @copycat-namjesus, @misteriouskitty, @kakasuka, @angieluvstae, @bangtanxcoffee, @han-nah-banana, @djasheyash99, @bex-92br, @noonas-magicshop, @bobakkoo, @scuzmunkie, @girl8890, @ellavyuubts, @hopeoncrackkk, @jk-190811, @yoongimetita7

I apologize for those I couldn’t tag for some reason, but I hope you still see this somehow.

Anyways, did you expect that twist?? Let me know your thoughts 💭

[fillinforlater]

Could you write my fantasy?

Proneboning minju while wrap arms around her neck and choking her lightly?

Rum pump cum dump style?

Phone: Angel of Infinity +0

Male Reader x Kim Minju

Words: 1405 words

Tags: pronebone, choking, rough, clothed, fingering, needy!Minju

TW: QUICKIE. BARELY EDITED.

A/N: The pic is not as important. Counts for the whole series/most of my fics

>@you, I hope you have a lot of time. I’ve heard only good from you and your massive… member. Tag me, I’m always ready for you 😉< Send by Angel

What a pleasant notification to wake up to. Sadly, you don’t know the girl behind the nickname Angel. Sana and Nayeon have told you separately that she is not only the most desired woman among everyone, but also has a libido unmatched by even the horniest people in Smite City.

>Hello @Angel! I just woke up, but I can send you my address and you can come over when you want—to get to know each other better 😉< Send by you

You stretch yourself while making your way to the kitchen. Nothing better than to start the day with a rich breakfast. Pancakes, bacon, eggs, nothing less for this well-deserved week of resting and unplanned, yet welcomed, fucking. If this Angel girl really is as freaky as you have been told, you need a lot of energy.

The first plate is finished quickly, and when you want to go for seconds, the flip-phone starts to ring, a new message in the main chat.

>@you Send it, I am already waiting. I’m so excited to get to know you—and what’s behind your boxers 😉< Send by Angel

A bright smile on your face while you type out the next message, enjoying the slight teases and naughtiness. This girl seems rather horny, let’s see if the stories about her are correct. If someone like Nayeon, who literally was upside down, naked and desperately waiting for you says that Angel is even hornier, you are in for at least a couple of days of fun.

Your address hits the group chat. While making the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen, you mentally prepare yourself for how you want to satisfy this unknown girl. The thought of bending her over the table you just ate at or taking her in missionary makes blood rush down to your crotch. Maybe, if she is small, you can pick her up and pound her to a wall or do a freaky full nelson.

Every thrust you imagine, makes your cock twitch and grow in size, until suddenly, your doorbell rings. You immediately drop everything and sprint towards the front door. Opening it is maybe the only thing close to opening the gates of Heaven, because the girl right before is nothing short of perfect.

Straight, hazelnut hair. Big, dark orbs. Pale, spotless skin. A wide smile is her greeting. Too stunned to speak, you watch the girl walk in and remove her black, oversized coat. An hourglass figure, partially covered by a slutty looking skirt and a tight t-shirt. Words of admiration for her perfect shape, hips, thighs, breast, face should leave your mouth, but you just slam the door shut and with a leap you get to her.

Your arms find their way around her waist, pulling her back closer and you both don’t hesitate to fondle at each other and make-out violently. Words need not to be spoken for both of you to understand and express your need; moaning in each others mouth is enough.

Her naughty fingers rub at your clothed erection and when they free it, you gasp. She is skillful, stroking you delicately and with smooth precision. To distract yourself, you pull the second skin that is her t-shirt upwards and reveal perky breasts, not hidden behind a bra. Their shape is flawless, they fit perfectly in you hand. And it is where they belong. You squeeze and fondle, eliciting moans from her, moans of wanton lust.

“Fuck Minju on a bed, pretty please. Minju has been a bad girl because there are no panties underneath.”

What a cute name. Weird though that she is referring to herself in such a manner, but the manner in which she describes her current state does not matter, as you find it to be true. Your hand under her way-too-short skirt immediately gets wet. Wet from fluids, already gushing out of her slit.

“Well Minju, you have a gorgeous face. How about you present yourself to me, before I’ll plow you into the mattress?” Confidence from your words, and Minju listens like an obedient puppy. A step away from you, she turns around and lifts up her skirt. Her tits are also exposed—those hard, pink nipples seem to throb like your dick—because she has the hem of her t-shirt in her mouth.

“Pwease, pwow Mimju hard.”

With a sly grin, you ram to fingers into her drenched pussy and basically finger-fuck her into your bedroom. She starts to spray her cum every where, but she is still able to stand upright and only moan a little, so you are unsure if an orgasm hit her. Minju positions herself in a missionary—teary, sultry eyes almost convince you to take her like that—but your preferred position is a different one.

A spin and Minju is on her belly, laying flat like a board, only her cute, wobbly ass protruding a little as her skirt is bunched up around her waist. After quickly getting rid of your annoying clothing—who needs that shit anyways? —you align your self at her slit, rubbing the inside of her wet thighs for a couple of second. Their juice covered, perfectly smooth surface is also useful for fucking, but her heat is the only thing you want in your heat.

Something about her easily accessible, often used, yet still tight and warm hole turns you into an animal. Grunts and thrusts and thrusts and grunts. There is no difference between you and a feral beast that just found his mate. Oi course, no animal would move their hands up their partners back and then lightly squeeze on their throat—which is exactly what you do. Her moans get quieter, almost powerless and whiny, which turns you on even more. It all just leads to harder thrusts, with a squeeze of her thighs or a spank on her ass in between.

You don’t even notice Minju pulling a flip-phone out of her skirt pocket and trying to type while you still exert force to make every of her breaths a mind-numbing challenge for her. She even loses her grip on the phone when you fuck her to a strong orgasm. Girl cum stains your sheets, and it kinda fills you with pride.

“You already came twice, and I am not yet close! Let’s see how many I can get out of you, Minju.”

Strong hits at certain corners, after you have almost completely pulled out of her, prove to be highly effective. When your hand isn’t too tight, you can hear her scream in ecstasy, rarely using coherent words to describe her current pleasure. Sometime a ‘Minju, fuck Minju!’ or a ‘Minju cumdump!’ comes out of her sultry, excessively drooling mouth.

This cacophony of sounds, rhythm, warmth, depths, wetness, pressure and pride will end in your orgasm, sooner than later. Each pump get tougher, the fucking can not go on like this. Minju still cums on your cock penetrating her, while you will probably contemplate changing the whole mattress later.

Painting her back might be cliché, but it is still what you decide to do. Her velvet walls stroke you a couple of time, then your hands, then it all turns white: Minju’s body with warm white, the streets outside with cold white, and your mind… with plain white.

Prone boning Minju seems like the way to happiness, the only way, the right way. What this little Angel still has in store for you, however, is beyond your imagination.

To your utter disbelief, she is completely fine. Your finger at her throat, your cock in her cunt, your ass sitting on her thighs. Hell even the multiple orgasms did nothing to her. Minju just stands up, smiling brightly, looking at her flip-phone for a second, then at you.

“Minju likes you. Can you cum in Minju’s little hole a lot of times, please?”

Her sudden dirty aegyo catches you off guard, just like her casually standing there with cum running down her back, completely exposed sweaty front and a finger on her hard clit. Yet you’re still able to nod at the beautiful, sinful sight.

“Great! Minju thought so, which is why Minju has a gift for you. Is your front door locked?”

[hornime]

watch and learn | iwaizumi hajime x f!reader x team japan

there were two things they all had in common: the growing bulges in their pants that they were urgently trying to distract themselves from, and the fact that their full attention was on you.

warnings: 18+, timeskip!everyone, BIG MANGA SPOILERS BASICALLY, exhibitionism, voyeurism, orgasm denial

w/c: 3.1k

a/n: now i don’t know if iwaizumi hajime (27) athletic trainer learned about female orgasms when he was studying sports science at irvine BUT he def knows how to show a girl a good time which is reason enough for me to write this. also, i read this article to prep for this piece and it was super enlightening, so i do recommend giving it a read if you’re interested!

in the middle of his morning run, iwaizumi slowed momentarily to check the repetitive buzzing of this phone, curious as to who was messaging him this early. when he’d left the apartment, you were sleeping, and you had the tendency to still be sleeping by the time he returned, so who else could it be?

he unlocked his phone, quickly finding the source of the notifications: the team japan group chat.

[06:43 AM] miya: hey @iwaizumi—you know stuff abt the human body right?

[06:43 AM] miya: cus like you studied it in college and shit??

iwaizumi rolled his eyes. i spent four years in america to earn my degree, came back home to support my country’s olympic team, and dealt with the biggest idiots of volleyball, only to get treated like this?

[06:44 AM] iwaizumi: yes, miya. i took many courses on the human body. in fact that’s the purpose of my job. to know the human body. because i am a fucking athletic trainer.

[06:44 AM] miya: okay okay i get it. dumb question

[06:44 AM] iwaizumi: why? is something up? you need help or anything?

[06:44 AM] miya: uhhh kinda

[06:44 AM] miya: @hinata i’m not fucking asking this

[06:44 AM] bokuto: bro just do it

[06:44 AM] miya: @hinata @hinata @hinata 

iwaizumi cocked an eyebrow. what the hell are they going on about?

[06:45 AM] iwaizumi: so am i needed or...

[06:45 AM] hinata: YES

[06:45 AM] hinata: we had a question

[06:46 AM] sakusa: by “we” he means him, miya, and bokuto

[06:46 AM] suna: yeah don’t bring us into this

[06:46 AM] hinata: don’t listen to them! both suna and sakusa wanna know too

[06:46 AM] iwaizumi: okay. what’s up

[06:47 AM] hinata: we wanted to know how to make a girl cum

he chuckled in disbelief.

[06:47 AM] iwaizumi: you’re telling me that you guys are in your mid-20s, literal olympic athletes, and you don’t know how to make a girl cum

[06:47 AM] iwaizumi: have you never done it before??

[06:47 AM] miya: NO

[06:47 AM] miya: FOR THE RECORD IVE MADE MANY GIRLS CUM

[06:48 AM] bokuto: ME TOO

[06:48 AM] bokuto: i think

he laughed out loud, briefly startling another runner on the sidewalk.

[06:48 AM] iwaizumi: you guys are unbelievable

[06:48 AM] hinata: i mean she says she finished but idk what i did to make that happen

[06:48 AM] bokuto: ^^

[06:48 AM] hinata: so like i wanna know how to actually do it

[06:48 AM] suna: actually im kinda interested in this too

[06:48 AM] aran: i pray for your future girlfriends. this is painful to see. im out

[06:48 AM] kageyama: i’m with aran on this one. you guys are dumb

[06:48 AM] hinata: shut up. you suck.

[06:48 AM] miya: cmon iwaizumi, help a guy out

[06:48 AM] sakusa: it wouldnt hurt for you to give us some pointers at least

iwaizumi sighed.

[06:49 AM] iwaizumi: @miya @hinata @bokuto @suna @sakusa meet in the locker room after practice. ill give you guys a lesson in the art of pleasing a woman

to teach effectively, he needed a volunteer, though he was sure you wouldn’t need much convincing. you’d always loved the attention, and the biceps, of the pro athletes. he spun on his heel and jogged home.

you woke up to the sound of your apartment door opening, your boyfriend creeping inside, forehead damp with sweat.

“hey,” you said quietly, making your way towards him.

“hey, baby. sorry for waking you up, i was trying to be quiet.”

you giggled sleepily. “s’okay, haji. you spoil me too much anyway, always letting me sleep in for hours while you’re off doing god knows what.”

at that, his eyes crinkled in amusement, and as you tried to step into a hug, he shuffled back. “woah there, baby. i gotta shower, ‘m all gross from my run. and then,” he gave you a peculiar look that you couldn’t quite place, “i got a proposition for you.”

after his shower, he waltzed out of the bathroom, steam wafting out from behind the door. his tanned body made you feel things you definitely shouldn’t be barely an hour after the sun’s risen, and you reached out to massage the tension in his shoulders. “so, what’s your proposition?”

“well,” he hesitated. “it’s a bit... unconventional. the team asked me to show them how to make a girl cum,” he took in your intrigued expression. “and it’d be a lot easier to explain if i had someone to do a live demonstration with. so,” his eyes flicked up to you. “that’s where you’d come in.”

“a... live demonstration? like you’re gonna make me cum in front of them?”

“yeah, essentially.” he gave you a devilish grin. “you want that, baby? wanna show those boys how a real man treats a gorgeous woman like you?”

you rubbed your thighs at his words. “yeah,” you purred. “i do. wanna show them how good you are to me.”

and that’s how you found yourself nestled between iwaizumi’s muscled thighs, back pressed against his chest, completely naked, with five of japan’s best volleyball players staring at your body in awe.

practically an expert in his field, iwaizumi knew the human body inside and out. this had many benefits; of course it allowed him to catapult up the ranks and work with the country’s best athletes to keep them at the top of their game, but it also had a unique side effect: an overwhelming vault of knowledge on how to make a woman feel good anywhere. 

you’d seen the proof firsthand; he knew exactly where to push, prod, stroke, and tease to have you cumming in seconds, over and over, as many times as you wanted. he was amazing, and you were well-aware just how lucky you were to have such a talented man in the sheets.

“oi,” iwaizumi snapped his fingers, drawing each of the players’ eyes away from your glistening cunt. “pay attention. i know more than anybody that she’s hot as fuck, but you gotta listen to what i’m saying or else there’s no point to this.”

he lightly pressed his lips against your collarbone, slowly tracing them against your jaw, the contact making you squirm. “if you wanna make a girl cum, first thing you gotta do is make her comfortable. if she’s worried about how she looks or sounds or smells she’s gonna be too stressed to let go.” he moved his hands to grope your tits, his calloused fingers brushing over your hardening nipples. “so reassure her, tell her how irresistible she is, how pretty her moans are, how tasty her pussy is. shit like that. the sexier she feels the better it’ll be.”

he leaned into you, whispering into your ear. “feeling good, baby? we can stop whenever.”

you nodded weakly, afraid to open your mouth, barely holding in your whines as his palms worked wonders on your chest and stomach, sending shocks of heat wherever they touched. 

you craned your neck up to observe the men before you. atsumu was flushed red, wringing his hands as if he was worried they’d do something embarrassing if he didn’t keep them occupied. hinata was bouncing his leg up and down, wiping his palms on his shorts as he took in the plushness of your thighs. bokuto was basically drooling, greedily tracing your soft curves with his eyes. suna maintained his indifferent expression, but the reddening tips of his ears showed that he was a lot more hot and bothered than he let on. sakusa stood quietly to the side, leaning against the wall, mask tucked under his chin as if he’d just realized how much the temperature had gone up in the room.

there were two things they all had in common: the growing bulges in their pants that they were urgently trying to distract themselves from, and the fact that their full attention was on you.

"make sure to try different things; there’s multiple ways to make a woman cum. only like a quarter of women experience orgasms just from penetration,” someone made a sound of shock. “yes, the number is that small, bokuto.” 

his fingertip slowly trailed past your belly button, dipping into the mess between your thighs, causing you to slightly arch your back into the solid chest supporting you. “foreplay with the clit is your best bet; even stupid fucks like you probably wouldn’t screw it up too bad.”

hinata opened his mouth to speak, but iwaizumi anticipated his question and continued.

“i know you’re wondering where the clit is. it’s around here, under this hood of skin,” he slid his digit between your labia. “s’not gonna come with a label so you gotta explore a little bit. i know where hers is like the back of my hand, but for you guys, with your girls, you’re gonna have to move your fingers around. slowly. and pay attention to her expressions.” he began to rub in a circular motion around your clit, causing you to make small whimpers of pleasure and shift your hips to meet his movements. 

“if she clenches up or twitches when you feel a certain spot, like this,” your legs flexed as he increased the pressure, “that’s the clit. be kind, it’s not a volleyball. be gentle n’ make small circles, whether it’s with your fingers or your tongue.” 

he thought for a second. “speaking of which, oral’s important. very important. most women cum when they’ve been eaten out, so use your mouths for something more useful than just dirty talk. suck on the clit, maybe tongue-fuck her a ‘lil, but your main focus should always be the clit.”

he removed his hands from your sopping pussy, and you made a pathetic noise of frustration. “’m sorry, baby,” he muttered seductively in your ear. “don’t wanna have you finishing too early. lesson’s barely started.”

he turned his attention back to your audience, his lustful tone being replaced by a more instructional one. “there’s other places that’ll help a woman orgasm, too: her nipples, her neck, her ears—”

“her ears?” sakusa questioned. he blushed profusely as everyone turned to look at him, surprised that he’d opened his mouth. “what? we were all thinking it.”

“s’a valid question,” iwaizumi said. “yeah, you can lick ‘em if they’re sensitive. hers are.” as if to prove his statement, he licked a stripe on the shell of you ear, making you wiggle helplessly at the stimulation. “‘n leave kisses everywhere else. feels good for them just like it does for us.” he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him and forcing your movements to stop as he traced patterns with his tongue all around your neck.

“something you should know about an orgasm is that it’s something called a positive feedback loop.” he looked up and was met with five blank stares. shouldn’t have expected anything from these dumb jocks, he lamented. “basically that means that, once you start releasing sexual tension, things will feel better and better until you climax.”

“oh!” atsumu chirped. “like how my sets get better and better throughout a game.”

“no, not really,” he quipped. “your sets suck throughout.” atsumu frowned at that.

iwaizumi exhaled exasperatedly. “the general idea is that the body gets more and more sensitive, muscle contractions become more and more frequent, and touches feel more and more stimulating until you cum. all right?”

they all made noises of understanding except for bokuto and hinata, whose eyes had glazed over at the first mention of an academic term. whatever, iwaizumi thought. they’ll get it through example.

"don’t worry about it too much if you don’t get it, that’s just an orgasm on paper. in practice, though, this is the crucial step: listen to her. she knows what feels good. never forget that you’re just an idiot with a cock.” he took a breath, gathering his thoughts before proceeding with his lecture.

“if she tells you to slow down, you slow down. if she tells you to go harder, you go harder. if she tells you to keep doing what you’re doing, you...”

“keep doing what you’re doing”, they all chimed in at staggered times.

“that’s right. don’t go faster or else you’ll mess up the rhythm and she won’t cum. and you wanna make her cum, don’t you?”

they nodded simultaneously.

“so if you keep up the tempo and force that feels good to her, you’ll be fine. questions?”

suna spoke up. “what about,” he choked on the word. “penetration?”

hinata hummed in agreement and bokuto jumped in. “yeah, what if i wanna make her cum on my cock?”

iwaizumi made a weird face. “that’s some pretty advanced stuff, but i guess i can go over it. when you try it, though, you have to be patient. with both of your bodies. s’not rocket science but s’not always easy. also it depends on the woman but sometimes she physically won’t be able to finish from penetration alone. just make sure you’re communicating.”

his swirled two fingers over your hole before shoving them in, your wetness making it easy for him to thrust in and out as your entrance stretched to accommodate him. “f—fuck!” your eyes flew open at the intrusion and you body lurched forward, but you were held back by his strong forearm. “ohmygod, oh my g—ah! feels s’good haji, s’good!”

“i know, baby, i know. you’re taking it so well.” he turned his attention back to the men, each of who were gulping heavily. if that didn’t signal to you that they were evidently affected by your moans, the way they shifted in their workout shorts did.

“boys, focus.” he curled his fingertips, brushing at the spongy spot at the top of your walls, ripping a pleasured wail from your throat and causing tears to prick at your eyelashes. “when you’re fingering her, you’ll feel an area inside that’s a bit soft and squishy. that’s the g-spot.”

you trembled in his arms as he mercilessly struck the same place over and over again with his fingers. “when you’re fucking her, try to keep the pressure building there, but it’ll be harder to make her finish since you can’t see what you’re doing.”

your breath hitched as iwaizumi’s incessant movements brought your body tantalizingly close to your release. he suddenly stopped and you almost sobbed in disappointment, until he plunged his fingers impossibly deeper.

a guttural scream of ecstasy came from within you, and your eyes rolled back as he began playing with another part of you, your body putty in his hands. “hngh, haji, ah! so good, s’good...” you threw your hands back around his neck, nails digging into the skin as you desperately tried to keep yourself grounded. your soft moans filled the air.

“stop clenching,” he hissed. “can barely move my hand.” you tried to relax but failed miserably as the tips of his fingers grazed your cervix. 

“holy fuck,” suna muttered. “you’re a god.”

“she sounds so pretty,” atsumu said in amazement.

“i wanna make a girl feel good like that, too!” bokuto sulked.

“you can do it, bokuto!” hinata hit him on the arm. “just listen to iwaizumi. clearly he knows what he’s talking about.” 

their eyes refocused on your figure, writhing in pleasure, prompting white hot waves of arousal to pool in their stomachs. 

“yeah,” sakusa said. “clearly.”

“stop talking,” iwaizumi ordered. “and listen. beyond the g-spot is the cervix, which is basically the end of the vagina. if you’re long enough,” he briefly scanned each of their faces, “which i’m sure you are, you’ll be able to reach it if you bottom out.”

“haji—hajime, please.” the stimulation was coming absolutely unbearable, and you could tell he was sadistically holding you at the edge, refusing to give you the satisfaction of finishing. “lemme cum, please. please lemme cum, please, please, i can’t—i can’t take it ‘nymore!”

“what was that? you can’t take it anymore? gonna cum?” you helplessly bobbed your head up and down, hoping that he’d give you permission. “well,” he growled, “we can’t have that happening, can we?”

he abruptly halted his thrusts, pulling his fingers out of you with an embarrassing squelch and popping them into his mouth. pearly tears rolled down your cheeks as you grieved the loss of contact and relief.

your viewers looked on in horror, feeling immense sympathy for you; you just looked so dejected from being denied yet another orgasm.

“why didn’t you—why didn’t you let her cum?” bokuto asked.

“why do you think?” iwaizumi snapped. “don’t want you guys to see her when she does. that’s for me, and only me.”

“oh, okay,” he responded, disgruntlement clear in his voice.

iwaizumi’s glare could cut glass, it was so sharp. the possessiveness that had enveloped his mind made him hyperfocus on just one thought: being alone with you. “so, any other questions? if not, we’re done here.”

you pouted at that, not wanting the demonstration to be over. “but haji,” you mumbled into his collarbone. “i di’nt get to cum. and i wanna.” you looked up at him, eyes wide with want. “please make me cum.”

iwaizumi sent a harsh glance to the players that nonverbally communicated his message loud and clear: get out. they shuffled awkwardly out of the locker room due to the hardness between their legs that they would most definitely need to deal with soon.

your boyfriend turned his attention back to you. “’m sorry, i know i had to deny you a bunch of times. i just really hated the idea of anyone but me seeing the cute way you look when you cum.”

you made a small noise of acknowledgement and a little whisper of it’s okay, haji. he looked down, sensing the way your poor, desperate cunt was pulsing around nothing, the erotic sight injecting him with the pure need to ravage you.

he shifted his head to kiss you passionately. “why don’t i make it up to you?” he breathed between your parted lips before picking you up by the backs of your thighs, forcing you to lock your ankles around his waist. 

he delicately situated you onto one of the recovery beds at the back of the room, before murmuring something that made your pussy throb in anticipation: “i’ll make you cum whichever way you want, however many times you want, all right? all you gotta do is lay back and take it.”

© property of hornime 2021. do not plagiarize any of my writing and do not repost/copy my writing onto any other sites.

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 24: OH...HI

after months and too much longing, you finally meet corpse in person.

─── corpse husband x reader ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 3.8k

author’s note: we did it joe.

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous. ҉   next.

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You woke up. That’s a lie, you didn’t sleep. Too much to plan, too much can go wrong and you’re...Not nervous, no, that’s not quite accurate. Excited. Yes, excited, so excited that two Redbulls and three coffees (so far!) make you jitter around the apartment like a butterfly that can’t find a flower bed to rest on. 

Rae has almost had enough of your...random spurts of energy. So what if you ran a few laps, climbed a few tables, sang karaoke a bit too loud and yet another noise complaint had been issued? It arrived exactly an hour after your concert via your displeased landlord. Rae was, of course, the one to apologize because you were too busy trying on miniskirts. After that ordeal was taken care of, no sooner than Rae shut the front door with an exhausted sigh, you emerged from your room clad in your prettiest outfit. You present it to her with a bright smile and flourish. 

She is not impressed.

“Will you quit it?” She questions, arms crossed over her chest. Your grin does not damper -- you’re used to such harsh treatment, having accepted her backhanded way of showing love long ago. Instead, you flick your wrists, showing off an ungodly amount of rings. You’re not certain of the exact number because you can’t count, “Y/n.” Her voice gains an edge, but you persist. Show off your shoes that have cute lil’ charms that jingle jangle not unlike the spurs on a hot cowgirl’s boots, “Y/n.” Her eyes narrow in displeasure, her stern tone making you falter in your dramatic stride down the imaginary catwalk, “Just stop.”

Okay! So maybe you’re not as used to her coldness as you thought you were. Your expression sours, and you quit the act, even if a part of you - one you barely fight off, goodness, you almost perish in that battle - wants to continue but even more annoying. As if you could somehow block her rationality with manic energy. 

“What?” You ask, trying to keep the mood lighthearted despite her squared shoulders and tight frown, “I’m just having a bit of fun!” You say with a joyous little laugh, reaching for a glass of much needed water.

“No, you’re panicking.” Her words make the glass still, hoovering by your painted lips, but it’s short lived. You take a greedy gulp and it tastes fresh with a pinch of lipstick, “Look, I get it...” She shakes her head softly, “You’re meeting the guy you like for the first time, you jumped the gun straight to dating and now you’re...Anxious. It’s normal, you know.”

“But I’m not anxious.” You persist, and you really do mean it. You don’t like how she looks at you as if you’re the one that’s misunderstanding your own feelings. You set the glass down with a soft clink, heaving your own sigh, “I’m not, I’m really happy actually.” You explain softly, “It’s just...my way of dealing with it. I’m more... Worried about Corpse, to be honest.” You add, a tad quieter, “But, like, it’s all good!” You exclaim, strolling up to her and landing your hands on her shoulders, “I prepared.”

And it’s true! You had spent the night scouring the depths of the internet. Read every WikiHow article on how to deal with someone with extreme anxiety, how to not make things painfully awkward, and how to talk to boys (just in case. The last time you stumbled upon that particular article was way back in middle school when you had a crush on that one guy you saw in your school’s cafeteria every now and then. Naturally, that led you down the rabbit hole, and according to WikiHow’s How To Tell If A Boy Likes You guidebook, you found out that he was absolutely enamored with you because he glanced in your direction, like, two times. Safe to say that love story went nowhere. The point still stands). 

So you forward all of this information to Rae, nestled in her bed whilst she lazily folds her clothes; clarify that you know that nothing much can happen, and that this whole situation is delicate, and that you must tread carefully because you don’t want to overwhelm him. She pauses her actions, glancing behind her to watch you staring idly at the ceiling, so peaceful, so thoughtful. And it’s not the eerie calmness you had displayed during your murderous spree in the last Among Us game, no, it’s just...quiet understanding. 

“I’m actually impressed.” She says. You merely hum, counting the dust slowly descending in the cascading light, “You’re not as clueless as I thought.” Your lips quirk into a shy smile at the compliment- “Or as tactless.” - and turn downward just as quick.

“That implies that I’m always tactless.”

“You are.” She states and you sit up, a soft frown pinching your brows, “Not like, in a terrible way. You just...don’t think about your actions. Or the repercussions. You just know that you can get away with everything.”

“And I can!”

“That doesn’t actually mean you should do something just because you can. You know I’ll always support you. Literally everyone will always support you. But I’m not gonna coddle you. You’re just...a lot. Online and especially in person. But the fact that you’re actually taking this seriously and taking his feelings into consideration is...well, the bare minimum, but still, good job.”

...Much to think about. You don’t like thinking, it makes your head hurt. Though, that could just be the lack of sleep. You cross your legs and plop your head in your hand, tired eyes blinking owlishly, “Do you...think I should change what I’m wearing?”

Prompted by your question, she gives you a careful once over, “I mean, it’s signature you.”

“Signature me is a hoodie and some sweatpants.”

She smiles, “Then go change. Your outfit is a bit distracting for just...Hanging out indoors, no? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind either way, though.”

“I just...” You bite the inside of your cheek, mulling your words over. Truly, the last time you were so attentive was when you went Psycho Mode in Among Us, which, to be fair, wasn’t that long ago. Perhaps there wasn’t a chance to let your mind dull - it’s almost as sharp as your butterfly knife, “I figured that if, like,” You vaguely motion with your hands, “if I be, like, all over the place, and wearing something cute, he’d be, like, distracted? And less anxious? No...awkward silence?”

“First meetings are always awkward, it’s natural.” She chimes, “I mean, if you’re so nervous-”

“I’m not nervous!”

“-then just don’t overthink it. I know it’s easier said than done, but you’re you, and Corpse is Corpse, and he likes you for who you are, and even if it is a bit awkward, I’m sure it’ll, like, blow over in a second. It really doesn’t matter how you look, Y/n.” She grins, “Plus, it’s not like you’re greeting him in your underwear or something.”

You will not admit that that was your plan B, not when you just landed in her good graces. You nod, “...I’ll go change.” 

And so you do. Pick out your cutest hoodie and some sweatpants. Put away your jingle jangle shoes with a broken heart, instead of them donning your fluffiest socks; slip off some rings because they keep falling off of your fingers. It’s almost like all of those transformation scenes in rom-coms that are still popular for some reason, except you’re hot before and after, so there’s really no transformation at all. 

Now you wait. Just wait, all other activities are excluded from this. Rae comes back to find you sitting on the edge of your bed, back straight, hands neatly folded on your lap. She compares you to a Sim’s character and you allow her. After mercilessly mocking you and snapping a few pictures - for blackmail, you assume - she helpfully informs that she is leaving because she doesn’t want to get in the way, but your psychic abilities which you acquired just now tell you that she simply doesn’t want to witness this train wreck. Not that it’ll be a train wreck, it would be if you were nervous, but you aren’t. 

You just aren’t. You fidget with the rings adoring your hand; toy with the hem of your hoodie; bounce your leg up and down. It’s just caffeine, okay?! Fuck this, Twitter time.

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[ADDING A MUSICAL INTERMISSION, LISTEN TO THIS IF YOU WANT (I WROTE THIS CHAPTER WITH IT IN MIND)]

The waiting commences, only now it somehow feels more intense. The sun is setting, and you really want to be one of those cute girls that fill their camera roll with pictures of the sunset and the roseate sky, but your hands are trembling and holding up your phone feels like too much of a hassle. You’d rather just sit there, alone in the apartment, in the pin-drop silence, extremely uncomfy and tense, as if waiting for the end of the world. 

A notification sounds off and your life flashes before your eyes. Hastily, you check it, a sticky mixture of delight and something else, something unpleasant constricting, making your stomach churn. He’s here. Holy shit, it’s happening. You order your anime plushies to stop fucking panicking, they’re like, totally embarrassing you at the moment! You wonder if they have their own little group chat, but instead of Totally Spies it’s called Total Embarrassment. Yikes, okay, that was harsh. After a good scolding, and a heartfelt apology for getting so heated, you smooth down the non-existent wrinkles on your modest outfit, and quickly waddle over to the electronic apartment thingie something something... you unlock the main door, okay!? This is for some reason feeling very not cash money, so you break out in a little dance number.

The doorbell does not sing that shrill, unpleasant tune; rather, there’s a soft knock on the apartment’s door, and you pause your shuffling, your renegade, and perk up at the imposing future hidden behind a slab of wood. Your heart beats a melody all on it’s own, and it’s loud, uncoordinated, like a musician that’s still familiarizing themselves with their instrument. And there’s that knock again, as uncertain as you’re feeling, and your clammy fingers latch onto the lock and turn it and now there is no more hiding - such a possibility is no longer an option; no more sporadic dances or sitting in disheartening silence and letting your thoughts weight you down.

You’re not quite sure what you were thinking about before you saw him in the threshold, head tilted slightly, fluffy dark hair obscuring the bags under his eyes, hunched, one ringed hand clutching onto the strap of his duffel bag, the other frozen mid-air, ready to knock one more time lest you didn’t hear him the first two. No, truly, you can’t, for the life of you, remember what all the fuss was about. 

“...Oh.” It’s a soft sound, so quiet, but not surprised, rather...relieved. Faint shimmers of a smile reach you, hidden behind a black face mask - the panini chic! You must stan a respectful king - but there’s something about the way he looks at you that makes you question it’s sincerity. He fails to return your gaze, rather choosing to stare somewhere over your shoulder. His eyes seem unfocused. Apprehensive. A wild thought occurs to you that he expected you to trick him somehow, and wild thoughts invade the land of your mind often, but never in such a way. You clutch the handle just a bit tighter.

His hand retreats to his side, up to his mask and you think he’s about to unhook it but he stills, and there’s panic there, as if he had been moving unconsciously, as if he hadn’t realized what he’s doing. He plays it off by idly scratching his cheek, muttering an equally quiet, “Hi.” to fill the silence.

Finally, your WikiHow knowledge can come in handy, along with your common sense, “Hey, pretty boy.” You mutter, pulling away from the door, “Make yourself at home!” You slide to the kitchen, your socks acting not unlike ice-skates cutting through the Arctic frost covered ground. You hope that with you occupied and not watching him as closely he’ll feel slightly more at ease. 

You’d like to hug him. Kiss him, definitely. But if he’s so uncomfortable that he can’t bring himself to shed his mask in your presence, then there’s really nothing you can do. 

You hear the door shut and lock behind you as you pull out two glasses from the cupboard, humming a song you can’t quite recall the name of. You ask him if he’d like something to drink - it was a short flight, yet a flight still, and planes always make you thirsty, and there you go talking his ear off. You end abruptly, but smoothly, like a true diplomat; if he notices, you have no way of knowing - he doesn’t provide even a hint. He’s hard to read, and literature was never your best subject. But you’re trying.

He sets his duffel bag down on a nearby chair, “I, uhhh,” His voice is raspy and low, another indication of a pathetic lack of sleep, “I...got you something, uhh, I dunno-dunno if I should...give it now, or?” He sends you a questioning glance, but it doesn’t linger. Your offer of drinks is momentarily forgotten, though you hardly mind. 

You grin, “Sure! I love gifts, gimmie gimmie.” You make grabby hands, and he snorts, and it would’ve sounded endearing if he didn’t sound so fucking tired. He unzips the bag, and you pad your way to him, mindful of personal space (something you, in most social situations, chose to pretend does not exist). You note his hands quivering lightly, just like yours had in the agonizing wait, but he hides it well. You wish you could hold them. You’re afraid to try.

He pulls out a black hoodie and you recognize the custom art on it instantly - it’s his merch. He presents it in awkward flourish, murmuring a “Tadaaaa” under his breath; your heart skips a pleasant beat, and you have to bite down on your lower lip lest you smile appears too big. The fabric is soft under your fingers, and you accept his gift with a dramatic bow, and he turns his head away with another little laugh. You’re chipping away at the ice around him; it’s a slow process, but it’s worth the effort.

Truly, your own hoodie is shabby in comparison - icky, how could you have ever worn such a thing in the first place?! You’ll have to do extensive research in fashion magazines and Printerest so such a slip-up may never happen again. You discard it hastily and put his on instead; it smells like washing detergent with hints of cologne, one you instantly pin point belonging to him, “It’s, uhhh, it’s mine? I hope you, uhh, I didn’t have any spare ones, so-I hope you don’t...mind.”

He’s finally looking at you, but he’s still tense, still hesitant, and you shake your head softly, “No,” You admit, “I like it even more now.” You pull on the hood, toy with the strings and yank them quickly; your face is concealed, save for your nose, “Comfy.” Your commentary is unmatched, best of it’s kind - eloquent and effortless, much like yourself.

Another small laugh reaches your ears, and it sounds a bit livelier than the others had been. Success!

“Stop that.” He says gently, and you see moving shadows; his hands loosen the strings and your face is revealed to him once again. He’s close now, and he doesn’t move away; his hands come to rest on your shoulders, warm even through layers of fabric, “I came all this way to see you, don’t hide your face from me.” 

Your eyes narrow playfully, your finger rapidly tapping away on his clothed cheek, “What’s all this then? Hm? Hm?” Instead of swatting your hand away, which you figured he’d do, he complies and finally tugs that fucking mask off. Your breath catches in the back of your throat and you halt your ministrations - truly, seeing him smiling on screen is nothing compared to him smiling in person. You can’t quite contain yourself any longer - your excitement might burst out in another dance number otherwise - as you throw your arms over his shoulders and pull him flush against you. He’s quick to return the embrace. Maybe it was all the encouragement he needed.

“Wow,” He mumbles, only slightly offended, “so I finally show my face to you, in person, and you just-...you just look away?”

“I’m hugging you, dumbass.”

“...Touche.”

Things fall into place after that, like a dozen puzzle pieces fitting together. He won’t let you go - he doesn’t want to. You put on some music, something easy and indie and that doesn’t require too much effort to listen to, as the two of you contemplate what to eat. Cooking by yourselves was dismissed due to the unstable relationship between yourself and cooking utensils. The stove and you had had a falling out recently, but this feud had started long ago, back in pre-school, with only short intervals of friendship. He listened to your extensive explanation absolutely enraptured and only moderately confused. 

So you settled on ordering pizza from Domino’s. You have no trouble calling or receiving phone calls, because you have no trouble doing anything, and he admitted that he only really calls you because he gets too anxious to do more, so you’re tasked with ordering the food. You accept this mission with pride.

You stand tall, gazing out the window into the wild California domain: massive buildings and towering eucalyptus trees, bleeding skyline and the sun slowly getting swallowed up by the ocean. Corpse looms behind you, with his arms snaked around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder, looking at you through the corner of his eye. You wait patiently for the underpaid, overworked staff member to pick up, and once they do, you have the audacity to grin brightly and chirp, “Hi! I want pizza.”

Conversations flow smoothly, and you make hot chocolate - because you are hot and you crave chocolate - and he insists he wants one too, because you want one, and you don’t hesitate to overflow his cup with whipped cream and an ungodly amount of miniature marshmallows. A premature heart attack, just for him. Whoever said romance is dead has clearly never met you. When the doorbell chimes, you’re astounded that an hour flew by so quickly.

After the delicious meal, the movie night must commence. So what if you watched 10 Things I hate About You yesterday, you insist that you have already forgotten the plot. You lead him to your room and he tries not to stare, but can’t help himself. Pretty boy in a pretty girl’s room. His eyes linger on the massive posters of Chrollo on your walls, and you sense his displeasure rolling off of him in waves. 

“What?” You huff, fluffing the pillows, “You don’t like my husband?”

He jabs his finger into his chest, into the spot of his heart, “I’m your husband.”

“Side hoe, then-”

“-No.”

You didn’t lie when you said you love to cuddle, or that you’re clingy. It’s a good thing he’s just as clingy as you are, because when he lays down and you latch onto his side. He doesn’t complain, rather wraps his arm around pulls you close. His thumb draws lazy circles on your side; with your head resting on his chest, you feel each rhythmical rise and drop. 

The opening credits play on the projector, the room dark enough for your pile of plushies to look like a whole fucking human just standing in the corner. A ghost! Sucks for it, you’re not scared. You feel safe. Protected. So comfortable in Corpse’s hold that you’re honestly wondering how did you manage to be so long without him. To think all of this started when Sykkuno followed you on Twitter. What a lucky accident.

“Can I ask you something?” Your voice cuts through the bopping 90s soundtrack and Julia Stiles’ voice. He hums. You take it as a yes. Tilting your head upwards, you find his eyes again, a thorn of displeasure picking you as you note that that apprehension you had seen previously is still very much there, “...You really wouldn’t date me if I was a worm?”

His chest rumbles with a laugh and his lips split into a grin, “I would.” He presses your side for emphasis, “I really would.” He repeats, reassuringly. You, however, are not convinced.

“But I’d be a worm.”

“I know. We’d... roll around in the dirt together, or something.”

“But you’d be human.”

He frowns softly, “Why couldn’t I be a worm, too?”

“Those are the rules.”

“What kind of shitty fucking rules are those?”

“I dunno, it’s like the Thanos snap or something. I just turn into a worm. I’m the only one.”

“That’s fine.” He smiles, “I’d take you out on a fishing date or something.”

Shocked, offended, and heartbroken, you hit his chest and pointedly turn away with a pout, which he finds very funny for some reason, but you fail to see the humor anywhere except the movie. Despite the fact that he’d sacrifice you for a fish, you smile shyly and close your eyes. He did say you would take a nap together, and if he really thought you’d stay awake for movie night, well, then he’s just an idiot. You had decided you would fall asleep as soon as he was next to you. It’s a miracle you managed to stay awake for so long.

“...Sleeping already?” You don’t appreciate his teasing tone.

“’m not sleeping...” You murmur, “’m resting my eyes.”

“Sure.”

You’re not quite certain (of anything, really) how much time drifts by, but you’re nearly lost in unconsciousness, in the warm, nice feeling that comes along with him like a cloud. Perhaps he thinks you’re asleep, he has to, else he wouldn’t say anything at all, “You’re stuck with me now, you know.” It’s such a soft admission, riddled with the same notes of anxiety that always prevail in his speech; with the same hopeful sincerity he had been gazing at you the whole evening. 

Moving your lips is such a hassle, but you manage, “’m...stuck...” You mumble, “’m...stuck...what are you doing step-”

“No!” He laughs, and your lips quirk into a lazy smile, “No, no, no. Just no. Do you talk in your sleep?” You fake snore at that, loudly, “You’re like a little dragon.”

“...Fuck you.”

“Fine, a kitten, then.” That’s better. You feel something chapped, but soft, press onto your forehead, “Goodnight, Y/n.”

God, you’re so fucking happy. Does he know how happy you are? How happy he makes you? But you’re too tired for screaming and flailing around, too tired to even crack an eye open. You want him to know all the same, “...like you.” You whisper, but you don’t know if he hears you over the movie, “...I like you.”

His reply is instant, breathless, “I like you too.”

Good, you want to say, and maybe you do - can’t tell anymore. Sleep takes you too quickly.

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tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury--moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[peanutpinet]

Trouble In Paradise (Yuzuru Hanyu x Reader)

Request: "I was thinking of figure skater!reader x Yuzuru Hanyu, where they are dating and doing Fantasy on Ice. One night, where reader is especially exhausted she gets into an argument with him. During the following show, the audience and fellow skaters notice that something is wrong especially after she gave up her place as the first jumper at the end to Evgenia when Alina wanted to do it and she tried to stay as far away from Yuzuru the whole show when he tried to make amend with her. Later that night, they reconcile. The next day, it was in every news that reader prefers Evgenia over Alina and was in conflict with Yuzuru. So reader has to make an official "apology" to explain that she was exhausted" - @thehappygrungelife

A/N: this is actually my first request from Tumblr and I'm very grateful to the person who asked for a request and I really hope I do it a justice

Warning: angst + fluff (happy ending), some cursing and heated argument

It was another day of practice for FaOI (Fantasy on Ice) and for some reason, you were not in your best shape. You would constantly be off beat compared to others and even when it was your turn to practice your performance, it was all but good; it wasn't even near your "ok" performance.

Okay, maybe it wasn't because you woke up on the wrong side of the bed. The other day you've been pushing yourself quite hard and it was the first day of your period. To top it off? The only thing your boyfriend, Yuzu did was telling you that it'll be alright and one bad day won't do any harm since everyone has those days.

I mean, who could blame him, practice isn't always easy when you're not into it. The whole entire day, you just prayed that practice would be over as soon as possible but of course, the more you want time to go by, the longer it actually is.

After what feels like days, practice was finally over and you were all dismissed to go back to your hotel. But despite feeling rough, you decided to wait for Yuzu since you just wanted to sulk and complain to him. But when you saw Yuzu talking with other female skaters, you decided to just leave in your grumpy state.

Throughout the rest of the day, you kept on ignoring all the notifications you got from Yuzu. Every message, every phone call, you ignored them all. Until you heard a knock on the door to your hotel room. Thinking it was the room service you ordered but it turns out to be a not pleased Yuzu.

"Where were you? I've called you so many times. Did you even check your phone?!" Yuzu questioned, his tone was immediately an octave higher

"It was charging. I'm trying to not look at my phone too much. It stresses me out" you shrugged, going back to your bed and looking at your laptop

"What's the difference with your laptop then?! You know what, never mind. Do you know how worried I was?! I thought something happened to you" Yuzu sighed, stress combing his hair

"Oh, now you noticed. I'm fine. Thanks for asking. You should head back and rest. Our show is literally tomorrow" you mentioned, not looking away from your laptop

"What's with you? Did something happen? Did someone hurt you?!" Yuzu started to get worried

"Nothing much. Just another tiring day. I'm serious Yuzu, just go. You need your rest too" you replied, sighing

"Why? Why are you pushing me away?! We barely talked today" Yuzu complained

"I'm just tired and on my period. Can we please not have this conversation. I don't want to lash out at you" you sighed, getting up from the bed

"Why? Why would you lash out? C'mon, let's just talk. I'm worried about you" Yuzu mentioned, taking your hands in his

"Why don't you just go back to the other skaters. I really am not in the mood to talk. Just go" you groaned, letting your hands go

"This talk isn't over (Y/N). You can be mad at me but we still have to talk it through. Get some rest, alright?" Yuzu sighed in defeat, leaving you in your room

Oh how you wish you could just make the whole week go by as fast as Thanos' snap. But, like it or not, you just have to face it and get through cause eventually it'll all be over.

Unfortunately, the other skaters and even the audience knew that something was wrong. Your typical bubbly and enthusiastic self was nowhere to be seen. Sure, you managed to perform your skating until the end, but it seems something was off. Your expression didn't lie.

What threw it off even more is when you were supposed to be the first jumper before the closing but you decided to let Zhenya do it, telling her that you weren't feeling well and your period cramps were acting up more than the usual and because Zhenya was the closest to you.

After the performance was over, there were many words going around and the media started to bring up some news about you preferring Zhenya over Alina to do the first jump. When the news started to blow up, Yuzu was the first to try to find you and talk about why you did what you did; not only that, he also wanted to talk about why you've been avoiding him since last night and even during the whole event.

However, the second the staff told everyone to go backstage, you were the first to leave the stage because your period cramps were getting unbearable and you quickly excused to be able to go back to the hotel on your own, trying to get away from the media who were plastering questions to why you decided to give your first jump spot to Zhenya.

Over on Yuzu's side, his eyes were traced on you throughout the whole show. Especially when you gave up your first jump spot for someone else when you normally are enthusiastic to do it. When Yuzu saw you quickly going backstage, he didn't hesitate to follow you. Calling out for you and asking you to talk but he lost sight of you and you eventually went out of the room before he could get to you, sparking another drama for the media.

Throughout the rest of the day, you just shut any kind of way for people to contact you and just passed out since the period cramps were getting to you. You didn't know how long you've been sleeping until you heard several, no, multiple knocks on your door that could probably be heard throughout the floor you were staying.

Grunting, you finally woke up and headed towards the door, opening it and revealed Yuzu, your boyfriend and the person you honestly don't really want to talk to but at the same time, relieved that it was him instead of someone else. Sighing, you knew that you were going to have the talk sooner or later. So, you finally let him in, telling him that you just woke up.

"Before you ask anything. I just woke up" you mentioned, closing the door as Yuzu came in

"What happened? Are you sick? You didn't seem too well. If you were sick, you could've said so instead of pushing yourself and not putting on your best performance" Yuzu started to lecture

"Yuzu..." you mumbled

"Like honestly. I was worried. We're all worried about you but you kept pushing us away" Yuzu argued

"Yuzu!! Stop!!" you raised your voice back

"No. Look, I get it if you're tired but that doesn't mean you should just push people away" Yuzu argued back

"YUZURU HANYU!! I SAID. STOP IT" you shouted, stunning Yuzu since he never saw you this angry

"Please. I'm already tired from a stressful week and my period just came yesterday and the cramps were unbearable even when I've taken medication" you sighed, plopping back on your bed as Yuzu follows you

"Not only that. I was hoping to be able to have a night of just the both of us yesterday but you were talking to other skaters and I don't want to seem so clingy or anything. I also don't want to be mad at you since my mood swings during my period is not the greatest. But guess the media thought otherwise" you explained

"Hey, hey, look at me. Why didn't you say anything? No one would've ever thought something like that, hmm? Especially me. You're not clingy at all. I actually like it you know. Makes me feel more loved and wanted. It's actually one of the things I like about you. What bout letting Zhenya jump first? Was it also because of your period?" Yuzu softly asked, holding your hands in his as he kneeled in front of you

"Yea. And Zhenya was the closest to me. I swear there's no hate going around or anything" you replied, sighing

"Alright. Let's not worry about that. We can deal with the media tomorrow. I'm just glad that you're alright. Please tell me whenever you don't feel well or if something doesn't sit right with you, okay? No matter what reason it is. No matter if you think it's silly, I want to hear about it. We're in this together. Whatever your problem is, it's my problem too and I want to help you" Yuzu reminded, holding your hand tightly in his

"Okay. I'm sorry for making you and everyone else worry" you mumbled

"It's alright. Just don't hide anything from me anymore okay? Now let's just rest. I'll help you deal with the media tomorrow, hmm?" Yuzu mentioned, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead

"Are you staying?" you murmured, looking into his eyes

"If you want me to. If not, I'll just stay until you're asleep" Yuzu replied, patting your head

"You can stay. I don't feel like I'll be able to sleep anytime soon since I did just take a long nap" you mentioned

"Alright. Then I'll stay here to comfort you. Let's just watch a film, hmm? I'll order some room service" Yuzu mentioned, going over to the phone to call for room service but you stopped him

"Thank you, Yuzu. I really am lucky to have you" you smiled, looking at Yuzu with eyes full of love

"And I am too. I'm thankful to have you as well. Thankful that you're able to make me warmer and more open to others" Yuzu giggled, taking your hand and kissing it

In the end, the both of you just cuddled up in your bed and watched some movies to end the night, thanking the universe for bringing the both of you together. Because, in the end of the day, no matter what difficult situations you may face, with the right person, you can get through it.

A/N: @thehappygrungelife I hope that I did your request a justice and hope that you like it :)