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moeswriting · 9 months ago

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mine | 1. wondering why we bother with love

pairing: young!no-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

chapter summary: a regular day at work turns into the beginning of something joel never thought would happen to him again.

chapter warnings: joel is 22 and reader is 20, mentions of a bad marriage and teenage pregnancy, reader is described a small amount (has hair, able-bodied, wears feminine clothing, is going to school for secondary english education, has a heavily-detailed background), joel being the single dad™, southern banter and teasing, fluff, joel being a flirt, baby sarah being her dad's favorite, if i missed anything let me know

word count: 3.6k (future chapters will be longer)

a/n: good lord, this got some attention!!! i'm so fucking grateful for it. really excited for you guys to read this. hope you like it. lemme know what you think. any reblogs and likes are appreciated <3

series masterlist | next chapter ->

read this chapter on ao3

You were in college, working part-time waiting tables

Left a small town, never looked back

I was a flight risk, with a fear of fallin'

Wondering why we bother with love, if it never lasts

✦ ✦ ✦

October 1994

At seventeen-years-old, Joel Miller found out that his girlfriend was pregnant. It was startling and overbearing and horrifying and it made him want to scream at the sky, at God or whatever was up there and curse them for fucking up his life. He told Amanda that he was there for her, would do anything for her, but he was scared shitless.

At eighteen, he was holding a baby in the hospital with a ring on his left hand and thanking whatever was up there for bringing him a healthy baby girl to hold for the rest of his life. Maybe it was too soon, but as soon as he laid eyes on her, he knew. He knew he would love Sarah for the rest of his life and even beyond that. But, Amanda held her for a second and gave her back to him. He knew that she resented him– could tell by the way she fidgeted with the ring on her finger, pulling it off and then putting it back on, scowling at it when she thought he wasn’t looking. They moved into a small apartment near the college campus in Austin right before the baby was born. He could tell she hated that too. He knew he could grin and bear it, as long as Sarah got to have two parents.

At twenty, he came home from his job at the small diner across the street to their small apartment where his little girl was crying in her crib and a note sat on the counter that read, “I’m just not built to be a mother or a wife, Joel.” All of her things were gone. It was like she’d never been there at all.

That night, he held Sarah in his arms and cried. He watched her big, curious eyes as his tears ran down her face and soaked into her pink pajamas. He thinks maybe she knew what was going on– the toddler was always more ahead than he ever was. It only took a day for her to start begging for her mother, sobbing in Joel’s arms as he held her tight to his chest, hushing in her ear, trying to sing any lullaby he could think of. It took her two months to stop bringing her up at all.

By twenty-two, he’s a fully-functioning single dad. He has a stable job at the diner and does some contracting with his brother on the side. His mom helps him watch Sarah while he’s working– shows him pictures of her on her digital camera she insists on bringing with her everywhere when he gets back from work. There’s a wall in his kitchen dedicated to his favorites. He never stops thanking her for everything she does for him.

Sarah is growing beautifully. Her curly hair is a mess, but he’s trying his best to learn how to do it right. Amanda had always done it before– pigtails and braids perfectly set on her tiny head. But he finds that her thick hair is hard to tame on his own. He takes her to the salon downtown for them to do her braids whenever he can afford it. Her big brown eyes could make him do anything– she knows just how to work him with her wet, puppy dog stare and pouty lips. She’s up to his knees now. Everytime he comes home from work, she’ll run to him and crash into his calves and he can’t help but smile everytime she does it.

She’s his world, his everything.

It’s a Sunday morning. He always works Sunday mornings because the church crowd always tips well and today is no different. Sweat is dripping down his back from running around, and his brain feels like it’s split in half with all the orders stuffed in his head. The diner’s small enough that he’s only one of two servers working, despite how ridiculously busy it is, but he doesn’t mind. He can’t mind, really.

“Donald! Where’s my pancakes?”

The owner of the establishment’s balding head peaks out of the kitchen, as he yells back at him, “In your ass, Miller!”

“Hilarious,” he deadpans, pushing an order sheet back into the kitchen for Donald to grab, “Hurry it up, please. Mr. Cassini is starting to get hangry again.”

Donald laughs boisterously, “Oh, that old man is always angry!”

Joel waves him off, “Just do it, Don.”

“No problem, kid!”

He turns around and there’s a new patron sitting at one of his tables. A woman, body guarded, eyes on alert, evaluating the diner for the closest exits. You look scared, but only in the way that prey does when it knows it’s safe– waiting for the next predator to flash its teeth at your trembling form. Your hair is wet, as well as the tops of your shoulders, which are tucked into a large hoodie that swallows you. He didn’t realize it was raining. Your sneaker-clad feet are tucked under your legs, criss-cross-applesauce on the soft leather of the booth beneath you.

You’re beautiful.

Tapping his pencil against his order pad, he approaches you carefully. You look like you’ll run for the hills if he takes you by surprise. But, his tapping seems to alert you of his presence, as your head turns towards him. You watch him with a discerning look and fold your hands on your lap.

He pulls out the Southern charm his momma taught him, smile and all, hoping it might ease your cautiousness, “Hello, ma’am. Can I get you something to drink?”

You look surprised– eyebrows raised and eyes wide, like you didn’t expect him to talk. It’s odd, he thinks.

“Oh– uh–” you look down to the menu he placed in front of you upon his approach– “Iced tea?”

Just from your voice alone– and piled onto the fact that he knows everyone around here, and he’s damn sure he’s never seen a woman as pretty as you before– he knows you aren’t from around here. He has the sudden and all-consuming need to know everything about you. Why are you here? Who the hell are you?

“You need a lemon with that, sweetheart?” He can’t keep his eyes off you.

“Oh, no, no. Sugar is good enough for me.” As if to prove your point, you pull a couple packets of Sweet ‘N Low out of the small container at the end of the table and toss them next to the menu splayed out in front of you.

“Alright, darlin’. One iced tea comin’ up.” He pulls out a wink for you and walks away. He isn’t prepared to see the aftermath of his overconfidence. He really hopes you don’t run.

And he finds that you haven’t when he comes back with your iced tea in his hand. He places it down in front of you with a, Here you go, hon, and asks if you want anything to eat, and you decline. He rushes to get to his other customers. Tips are more important than the beautiful woman, he has to tell himself, but he finds that his eyes drift to you as you dump three pink packets of the sweetener into your tea and swirl it around. He shakes his head in amusement when you pull a book out of the backpack sitting next to you and start to read.

✦ ✦ ✦

When he comes back to check on you again, you’ve downed your glass of tea and you’re squinting your eyes as you write on the page of the book in front of you, underlining a passage you determine is worthy of note, not once, not twice, but three times. He thinks he sees the words ‘idealized love’ as he pours more tea from the pitcher he brought with him into your plastic cup.

“Whatcha readin’?”

Your eyes don’t even leave the page, pencil doesn’t cease writing as you reply, “The Great Gatsby.”

“Huh. Read that in high school. Kinda sad, ain’t it?”

You place your pencil down in the crease of your paperback, still reading, “I suppose so.”

It’s gone quiet in the diner now that the Church crowd has left, the sound of the jukebox in the corner the only background noise remaining. Only people here now are you and Mr. Cassini, but he’s preoccupied with Doreen, the other waitress on duty today. They’re flirting in the way that old people do, with shy smiles and boisterous laughter. He thinks he can take a quick break.

He sits down on the booth across from you and you look up at him for the first time since he came back to fill your tea.

“What’re you doing,” you ask– not in anger or annoyance, but just genuine confusion.

“Sittin’. This book for pleasure or school?”

You seem to accept his presence here with you as your new, temporary situation and put your bookmark– a pressed leaf– back in your book and close it shut. “School.”

He hums, disappointment dripping down his back, “You in high school then?”

Your eyebrows furrow before you seem to realize where he is drawing his conclusion from, “Oh! No, no. I’m studying to be an English teacher. We’re supposed to read this and come up with a fake lesson plan.”

Relief replaces the disappointment just as quickly as it had come.

“Huh. Interesting.”

You shrug, “I’d like to think so.”

He shuffles in his seat, pressing the cold leather against his sweltering back. “So, what– you gonna be a high school teacher?”

“I’m trying to. It’s hard work.” You pull out a few more packets of sweetener and pour them into your new cup of tea. He tries his best not to smile, but he can feel the corners of his lips pulling at his skin.

“Hard work is good for the soul– shows you got guts. That’s what my momma always says, anyways.”

You grin, “She sounds real smart, your mamma.” He hears you emulating his accent, teasing him for being so incredibly cliché, but he’s so focused on your blinding smile that he can’t even fight back.

“She is. She’s the best I could ask for.”

“Good. Everyone deserves a good mom,” you say, your smile almost turns sad as you say it. He wants to grab your face and beg you to tell him why what you said makes you sad, where’s your good mom that you deserve?

“Joel Miller, what are you doin’, sittin’ down? Get your ass up and clean some tables,” Donald yells from across the diner. Joel doesn’t even flinch– used to his sour attitude from almost four years of working here. But he watches you flinch, eyes going wide. You look warily over to Donald, assessing the situation, before you look back over to him.

You clear your throat, “It seems like you need to be getting to work, Joel Miller.”

You're teasing him again, but he can tell you’re nervous. He smiles, trying to calm your nerves as much as he can, and he thinks it works as he watches your shoulders relax slightly.

He chuckles, muttering to you conspiratorially, “Bitter old man, can’t see I’m trying to get myself a date over here.”

Your eyes flick down to your book and back up to him. Biting your lip, trying to suppress the smile he can see taking over your face, you reply, “Get back to work.”

“Alright, alright, sugar. I’m going,” he concedes, hands flying up in surrender.

The grin finally takes over your lips again and he swears he’s never seen anything more beautiful– besides his own baby girl’s smile.

A name falls from your upturned lips.

“Huh?”

You laugh, opening your book back up and pulling yourself back into the story, “My name, Joel Miller.”

He repeats it back to you. It tastes like honey and sweetener on his tongue.

He wonders what you would taste like on his tongue.

“I’m getting off in 30 minutes.” An invitation.

You look back up at him. “Well, then, I guess I got another thirty minutes to read before you’re bothering me again.” You accept.

“I suppose you do.” He turns back to the counter and walks away. He can feel the pull to go back to you, to indulge himself in you further, but he needs the money and the extra $3 for the next thirty minutes could be the difference between his baby girl getting a full meal or not, and Donald has a nasty habit of not paying the full amount if he ain’t working, so he picks up a rag and gets back to work.

✦ ✦ ✦

Thirty minutes later, he’s pulling off his apron and bounding out of the backroom towards the table you’ve made a home of. He finds that you’ve packed up your things into your lavender bookbag, like you’re ready for whatever he throws at you– to go wherever he’s going to take you.

He wastes no time; he doesn’t want to be here anymore. “You wanna go on a walk?”

You nod your head eagerly. It seems you’re in agreement.

The pavement is a dark gray beneath your purple sneakers and his steel-toed boots, a pair his momma gave him for his 18th birthday. They’re good for work– sturdy, not too sweaty or uncomfortable. He wears them everyday. He wonders if you like cowboy boots, hopes you don’t find them tacky.

It’s still light out, around six in the afternoon. It stopped raining an hour ago, but the humidity still lies heavy in the air as the two of you make your way outside. It’s hot, but only in the way that Texas is in the middle of October. It’s comforting, like laying in front of a fire on a cold day.

He stuffs his hands in his jacket pockets. He wants to take your hand, can feel his fingers twitching with the exertion of forcing himself to stop. You don’t even know him– he doesn’t want to scare you off yet.

You look to him for directions and he tilts his head forward and down the street, starting your walk at a slow, but steady, pace.

Austin is busy this time of year, what with all the college students a month or so into their return for the fall semester. The bars they pass are full of drunk students on full-weekend benders and loud music. Stupid decisions and disco lighting. Sometimes he’s glad he was able to avoid all that. Sometimes he misses having the option of making mistakes.

He clears his throat, “Where you from, darlin’?”

You smile, kicking a rock with the edge of your sneaker, “Oh, is it that obvious that I’m not a Texas girl?”

If the lack of the local accent and not recognizing you wasn’t enough, the way you held yourself would be the obvious give away to him– nervous, on-guard. He finds that people around here aren’t scared of being too loud or in the way of anyone or anything. It was plain to him that you couldn’t stand the idea of getting in anyone’s way.

“Kinda,” he chuckles.

You hesitate, looking away from him and to the uneven sidewalk below you both, like you’re trying to decide if you should lie to him or not.

“Seattle.”

That takes him by surprise, but he hopes it doesn’t show too much. What in the hell were you doing all the way down here?

So many questions left unanswered in the aftermath of you.

“Woah– long way from home, aren’t we?”

Your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah— yeah, I am.”

Home, family seem to be sore topics for you. He makes a note to avoid it.

“Never been to Seattle. In fact, I’ve never left Texas.”

Your eyebrows lift. “Really? Washington’s beautiful.”

“Lotsa rain, I hear.”

You let out a breath of amusement, “You hear correctly. It's one of the only things I miss about it. Texas isn’t exactly known for its rain.”

He snorts, “No, it ain’t. But, you got yourself some today. Bet that was nice.”

You nod. It’s a few moments of comfortable silence before you speak again.

“You from around here?”

He nods once, pushing his hands even further into his pockets in embarrassment, “Lived in Austin my whole life.”

“Joel Miller, you’ve gotta get out of Texas,” you laugh.

You’re beautiful when you laugh. Your smile lights up your whole face like the sun as you throw your head back towards the dreary sky, eyes crinkled by the pull of your cheeks.

He sighs lightly, “Yeah, ‘spose I do.”

You seem to realize something as you do a quick scan of your surroundings before you look back at him with narrowed eyes and a playful smirk.

“Miller, where are we going,” you draw out.

“Nowhere,” he mimics your drawn out syllables, “Just walkin’.”

You hum, “Hm, and I don’t suppose that nowhere is in the general direction of my college campus and that you may be ‘just walkin’ ‘ me to my dorm like the Southern gentleman you are?”

He chuckles, bashfully scratching the back of his neck, “Maybe.”

You pause, look him up and down, and then sigh, “Thank you, Joel.”

“It’s no problem, sugar.”

He lets you take the lead now that you’re approaching the campus, slowing his steps so he could keep up with you. You scrunch your eyebrows at the ground below you and pucker your lips, opening your mouth and then closing it again. When Sarah does that, he calls her ‘fishy’. He desperately wants to tell you about her, but he finds himself once again fighting the urge so he doesn’t scare you off. Not yet, he tells himself.

You look up at him again, eyes wide and biting your bottom lip, “Why do you keep calling me that?”

He’s staring. He knows he’s staring at your mouth, but he can’t help it. They’re like a siren song he can’t resist. He can’t think straight when you’re next to him.

He shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts like an Etch-A-Sketch, “What?”

“‘Sugar’. Why do you keep calling me that?” You glance over at him, but quickly look back at the ground when you catch him staring at you. He can tell you’re flustered.

“Oh, well, I watched you pour three packets of sweetener in your tea like a maniac. So, I figured that was an appropriate nickname.”

You scoff, throwing your hands up in the air, a grin growing on your face, “Hey, that is a very appropriate amount of sweetener, thank you very much! I thought you Southerners adored your sweet tea.”

“Darlin’, if all us ‘Southerners’ drank three packets of sweetener with our iced tea, we would all be dying at a very young age.”

“Well then, I’ll die a very sugar-high and happy, young woman.”

He laughs– one of those real laughs that only his family can bring out of him. He can’t remember the last time he laughed like this in public.

“Y’know, if you’re gonna die young, sugar, I don’t know if it’s such a good idea that I do what I was about to do.”

You stop in front of the tall brick building in front of you, clicking your heels together, and playfully furrow your eyebrows again. You’ve reached your destination. This is goodbye. He doesn’t want it to be.

“And what were you about to do, Joel Miller?”

“Ask you on a date,” he smiles and you smirk, “But… if you’re planning on an early demise, darlin’, I don’t wanna get my heart broken.”

“And if I promised to cut back?” You’re approaching him quietly– two feet turning into almost chest-to-chest in a few agonizing seconds.

“Then, I’ll have to take you out to make sure you keep your promise– now, won’t I?”

He watches from the corner of his eye as you pull a piece of paper out of your hoodie pocket and stuff it in his own. The soft, fleeting feeling of your hand brushing his makes a shiver run down his spine. Your hand quickly retreats.

You look up at him with mischief in your eyes, “I guess you will.”

Before he can even blink or think or process, you're kissing his cheek with a tenderness he hasn’t felt in years– eyes closed and big grin plastered on your face. He knows he’s blushing; the heat is crawling up his face ruthlessly.

You pull away and start to walk toward your building. He lifts a hand to his face in hopes that you left something there, evidence that you were real, evidence that what just happened wasn’t a figment of his imagination. But all he can feel is his own stubble. He hopes it didn’t hurt your lips. Maybe he should shave when he gets home.

“Call me, Joel Miller,” you shout over your shoulder, grinning brightly.

“How,” he shouts back.

“Look in your pocket!” You point to your own in emphasis.

His eyebrows pull together as he pulls the paper out of his pocket and reads it. Ten digits sitting pretty in red at the top with your name sitting on the bottom, a heart colored in with purple highlighter drawn next to it.

He goes to tell you thank you, or declare something he’s not even sure of himself, but when he looks back up to the doors of your building, you’re gone. The only evidence that you were ever real sits in his hands like a promise.

He rushes home before his mom starts to worry about where he went. He can’t wait to tell her all about you.

series masterlist | masterlist of all masterlists

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel m #tlou #fluff #joel miller fluff #moe's writing #eras fanfic tour #speak now teft #joel miller au

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borathae · 1 year ago

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"An unexpected rainstorm forces you to seek refuge at your best friend's house. Hoseok just so happens to also be your boyfriend's best friend, who till this day gushes about the night he and Hoseok shared. Soon you can't take the curiousity about his skills anymore. Especially when he looks so goddamn hot and the clothes you borrowed from him smell just like his cologne."

Pairing: Vampire!Hoseok x Witch!Reader

Genre: Best Friends with Benefits!AU, Polyamory!AU, Smut, some domestic sweetness

Warnings: minimal Yoongi x f.Reader, Domish switch!Hoseok, Switch!Reader, there's not really a D/s dynamic though just two people having sex where one just happens to take the lead more & then they change it up, *whispers* if you're new to the Sanguis Universe everyone fucks everyone here lmaoo, Hoseok is a whole boyfriend i said what i said, he gives her his clothes to wear, they smell like him <3, Hobi is a lil nervous hehehe, lap sitting, making out, oral (f. & m.receiving), mattress & thigh humping, handjob, she spits on his cock, he spits on her pussy, passionate missionary, hair pulling (m.receiving), nipple play (m.receiving), clit & pussy spanking with his cock, he shows off his vampire face, dirty talk, praise, he calls her good girl & babygirl, he's into making her beg, multiple orgasms for both, creampies, cockwarming for aftercare, cuddly aftercare, Hoseok's so whipped for her

Wordcount: 12.6k

a/n: you guys, i'm scared he is so hot fjadsfja also, if anyone dares to call me out on my oral fixation i will lick your nostril JFJADJF istfg i can't even deny that i have it hahahah have fun besties because a bitch might cum 💗

The rain surprised you today. You were at the university’s library for most of your afternoon after having spent your lunch and morning hours in lectures and classes. You want to finish your education. This is what your current plan is. A little bit of normalcy and the feeling of achieving one of your life long goals.

You are the only one who went back to university after everything which happened. The others had no reason to do so and you didn’t blame them. You really liked being back at university, spending your days studying and your evenings practicing magic or cuddling with your boys. You are living the best fucking life.

The rain surprised you today. You were on your way back home when a sudden rain shower took control of the sky. You could have easily called one of your boys and they could have picked you up, but you didn’t feel like it. Seokjin’s – aka Hoseok’s – house was just in reach and you are sure that you can find refuge there.

You increase your steps, fighting against the storm. Hopefully Hoseok is home. Seokjin and Emma are back in Gordes for a few months, so Hoseok has been taking care of the house. He spends most of his weekends at the estate however, if he isn’t busy with his dance school that is.

You hurry up the few steps and slam your finger on the doorbell.

No answer for a few moments too long. The rain is wet and cold, the harsh storm brings down the temperature even more. You are shivering like crazy. Your clothes are soaked entirely.

You ring the bell a second time in sync with Hoseok opening the door. It results in you being able to hear the shrill ringing.

“Hey”, you say, slipping your finger from the bell to give him a little wave.

“Hey there hey, come in. Quick, come in”, he greets you, waving you inside as he steps out of the way, “the weather’s crazy all of a sudden. Shit, look at you. You’re soaked.”

“I’m freezing my ass off. The rain surprised me”, you tell him, “can I put my stuff on the mat?”

“Yeah sure.”

Hoseok locks the door while you shrug off your soaked outdoor clothes and backpack.

“You’re lucky I have increased hearing. I was wearing headphones.”

“Yeah? Did you practice dance?” you ask, taking off your shoes.

Hoseok is already busy spreading your wet jacket on the radiator in order for it to dry quicker.

“Nope, just making music.”

“That’s cool. You keep talking about it. I wanna listen to your stuff, seriously.”

Hoseok dismisses you with a nonchalant tilt of his head, “soon. It’s not finished yet.”

“You’re a perfectionist. I’m sure it’s already good.”

“Yeah I am, but at least it means that once it’s done, it’s amazing.”

“I can’t argue what that”, say and feel shivers run through you, “brrrr, I’m so cold. And wet. Urgh, I hate the rain.”

“You love rain.”

You laugh, “yeah, I do. I just don’t like it right now.”

Hoseok smiles and chuckles. He nods his head into the direction of the stairs.

“You know where the bathroom is. You can take a hot shower if you want.”

“This would literally save my life. Thank you”, you say and turn to hurry upstairs, “can I borrow clothes?”

“Yeah sure. What’s your size again?”

Spending time at Hoseok’s place feels familiar and safe. You know every nook and cranny, find everything blindly and feel at home in the rooms. It is not only because you spent months in the guestroom during the time Namjoon was still a threat and you hated Yoongi. But it is also because next to the estate, the former Sanguis frat house feels like a second home. You and the others are always welcome here, you are allowed to act at home and the company is always amazing. There are many days where you take a short rest stop at Hoseok’s place before going home. And there are also many days where the others, especially Jungkook, leave the estate to spend time at Hoseok’s instead. In a sense, the cozy townhouse has become an extension of the estate where all of you are always welcome.

You are in the middle of drying your hair with Hoseok’s dryer when he knocks on the door.

“I’ve put the clothes in front of the door”, he calls out.

“Yes. Thanks”, you call back.

Hoseok picked out one of his comfiest sweat suit. He is currently in a phase where he enjoys wearing matching sweat suits sets in the most colourful of combinations and with many accessories bringing the look together. He always looks to die for in them. He picked out a grey coloured sweat suit with neon green accents for you. You saw him wear it before and he looked amazing in it.

He also laid out a pair of boxers for you and some socks. They are freshly washed because if there is one thing Hoseok is, it is clean.

The clothes smell just like him and the cologne he always wears. Masculine and clean with a hint of sandalwood at the end. You catch yourself smelling the collar of his hoodie way too vividly, cringing at yourself afterwards because of how embarrassing that was. You couldn’t help yourself. He smells so good.

Now wrapped in his soft clothes and with your body warmed up, you decide to look for him. Knowing Hoseok, he was back in his home studio.

It is located on the second floor just past his bedroom and the guestroom Yoongi stayed in all those years ago. The door is closed and you know that knocking is fruitless. You still do, entering his room at the same time.

“Hobi?”

He doesn’t answer you.

Just like you had thought, Hoseok was lost in his music, nodding his head to the beat of it. You can hear snippets of it escaping his headphones. It sounds as if he was rapping "burn" over and over again. The beat sounds aggressive and perfectly rhythmical.

“Hobi?” you repeat yourself and tap his shoulder.

He presses pause and takes off his headphones, turning with his chair afterwards.

“Hey there ___”, he says and grins, tilting his head to the side.

“Sorry to disturb you.”

“You’re not”, he assures you and studies you from head to toe, “cute. My clothes fit you well.”

“Thanks”, you say, smoothing over the front, “they smell like you.”

He grins, “and that means?”

“Nothing”, you mumble and look away. Shit, why did you say that? So embarrassing.

He chuckles and turns back to his desktop. He is wearing a brown sweat suit today, combining some rings and an expensive watch with it. Knowing Hoseok, he would wear some funky glasses and chunky sneakers with it if he were to leave the house. But alas, only a pair of white socks adorns his feet. The latter he currently taps to a silent beat. The song must still be stuck in his head even now that he isn’t playing it.

You take a step closer and point at the screen. Hoseok sneaks a glance up at you. You aren’t aware of it, but like this, your body is touching his upper arm. Your warmth seeps right through your clothes.

“I heard glimpses of the song. It sounded really good”, you say.

Hoseok turns back to you again. Like this, you are between his legs.

“You think so?” he asks, resting his head back against the chair in order to look up at you. His elegant fingers are folded on his stomach.

“Yeah. You sang about burning stuff?”

“Yeah”, he laughs, “you could say it like that. I still haven��t finished the verses yet. It’s just a guide version for now.”

“It already sounds good.”

“Thanks”, he says and stands up with his eyes running over your face. He steps closer to you, placing his hand on the table beside you, “why are you here?”

“I, I uhm”, you clear your throat, “Hobi, don’t be like that”, you complain and push at his chest.

“Like what?”

“A flirt.”

He laughs, “I’m not flirting. I genuinely wanna know why you’re here.”

“I was on my way home from uni and the rain surprised me. This was closest.”

“So I wasn’t a reason?”

“You’re always a reason”, you say and nudge him, “silly.”

He laughs and steps back, “are you hungry?”

“Starving actually.”

“Wanna cook together?”

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

“Funky. Let me just save this and then I’m ready.”

“Yeah, take your time. I’m calling Yoongi to let him know that I’ll stay the night here”, you say with your back already turned to him as you leave the room. You can’t see the surprised look Hoseok sends you at the mention of you sleeping over or the faint smile which follows.

“Sure, tell him”, he says and looks back at his song.

You walk downstairs as you talk to Yoongi. The latter picks up after the third ring.

“Hey, my princess.”

“Hey, my prince.”

“Are you okay?”

“I am, don’t worry. The rain surprised me.”

“I know, I noticed. I was worried already”, he confesses, making you smile.

“Of course you were. Don’t worry about me, love. I managed to get to Hoseok’s just in time.”

“Thank god, phew”, he exhales loudly, “I can relax now.”

“Yeah”, you giggle. He’s so cute.

“Are you staying the night? I don’t think the weather’s gonna get any better.”

“Yeah right? I’ll stay the night if that’s okay.”

“Of course it is. You don’t gotta ask”, he assures you and suddenly you can hear the smirk in his voice, “maybe you’ll end up watching his stuff too, mhm?”

Your heart fluttered in your chest.

“Yoongi”, you gasp.

He chuckles deeply, “I’m messing with you.”

“Wah, so mean. I feel hot now.”

“Sorry”, he laughs.

“You’re not.”

“Mhm, no I’m not.”

“So mean”, you mumble and snicker. Yoongi does the same.

Silence follows, which Yoongi breaks.

“Where are you right now?”

“Kitchen. I’m waiting for Hobi to come down. He’s working on his mixtape.”

“Mhm, the songs are really good.”

“You heard them?”

“Yeah. He showed me and asked for my input.”

“That’s so unfair. He doesn’t want to show them to me”, you whine.

Yoongi chuckles, “poor woman. You’ll love them once he does.”

“Mhm, I’m sure I will”, you say as your eyes shift to the doorway. Hoseok is finally here, “hey love? Hobi just came. I’m gonna hang up now if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, okay. Tell him hi.”

“Yoongi says hi.”

Hoseok smiles, “thanks Yoongi. I say hi back.”

“He says hi back.”

“Thanks”, the smile is obvious in Yoongi’s voice, “have fun, love. Yeah?”

Your heart flutters. You know exactly how he meant that.

“So mean”, you mumble, making him laugh, “I’ll have fun”, you add in a chuckle.

“Good. Sweet dreams, princess.”

“You too, Boongie. I’ll come home for lunch tomorrow.”

“Okay, I’ll have something prepared.”

“Ooh, now I can’t wait. I love you, Boongie.”

“I love you too, princess.”

“And Yoongi! Before I forget!”

“Yes?”

“Can you tell the others where I am? So they don’t worry.”

“Of course, I’ll tell them.”

“Thank you, love. Okay, bye then.”

“Bye, love.”

You hang up and place the phone aside, smiling to yourself.

Hoseok, who watched you talk to Yoongi on the phone, sends you a teasing look.

“You’re so whipped for this man”, he coos and nudges your upper arm.

“Yes I am. What about it?” you throw back with a pout.

“Nothing. It’s cute”, he says and points at his fridge, “what you wanna eat? I gotta warn you, I don’t have lots of groceries because I haven’t really eaten lots of human food lately.”

“Really? But you love human food. Are you okay?”

“Very. Just way too preoccupied with the mixtape. I just crack open a blood bag and I’m good. It takes less time.”

“You guys are so lucky that you can choose if you want to eat food or not. I miss out on food once and feel shitty.”

“Yeah right, I guess we are lucky”, he says and sticks his head into the fridge, “what do you wanna eat?”

You close the distance and try to look inside the fridge as well, “what do you have? Oh pesto. We could make pasta with pesto.”

“That sounds good. I think I still have your favourite pasta.”

“Really?”

Hoseok opens the kitchen cabinet and pulls out a package of your favourite pasta.

“Yup”, he says, shaking it.

“Wah Hobi, I love you. This is the best pasta shape ever.”

“Yeah, it’s good. It holds the sauces well.”

“Agreed and it’s the perfect size for my mouth.”

Hoseok snorts, “that’s what she said”, he says, earning himself a nudge to the chest.

“Perv”, you say, but chuckle.

Hoseok snickers and busies himself with getting out the pot and filling it with water. He puts it on the stove and turns the heat on.

“What should we do now that the water needs to boil?” he asks.

“You could show me your songs.”

Hoseok smiles, “why are you so persistent?”

“Because”, you nudge his chest, “I talked to Yoongi and he told me that you show him your songs.”

“Yeah? And?” Hoseok is giggling, which means he’s being playful.

“Hobi, come on”, you whine, chasing him to grab his waist and squeeze it.

He flees you with minimal effort, letting out squeaky giggles while his hands hold yours in place.

“I’m so curious. Come on, show me”, you whine.

“Fine okay”, he squeaks, “okay, I’ll show you. Just stop tickling me”, he says and pulls you out of the kitchen.

You skip next to him happily, swinging your hands back and forth. Hoseok studies you.

“Why are you so happy?”

“Because I’m gonna hear your music.”

Hoseok sits you down on his studio chair while he busies himself with turning on the big speakers and subwoofer. You pull your legs up on the chair so you can sit cross-legged and watch him squat down in front of the desk. He rests his chin on it as he clicks away on his computer.

You place your hands on his shoulders and give him a gentle massage. Hoseok reacts by leaning into you slightly and letting out a deep purr.

“Okay, this song’s called More. I really like it”, Hoseok explains.

“Is it the one I could hear?” you ask, running your fingertips through the fluffy hair at the nape of his neck.

“No that one’s gonna be called Burn. It’s not done yet.”

“I see. Well then, play it. I’m so excited.”

“Right”, he says and presses play. He gets up and stands next to you with his arms crossed in front of his chest and a stern, almost angry, expression on his face. You glance at him at first, but then concentrate on the song instead. It’s an amazing song. It is not all how you imagined Hoseok’s music to be and you feel terrible that you thought so because as you listened to the hard beat and aggressive guitar riffs between his passionate rapping, you realise just how Hoseok this song is. It is in Korean, which makes understanding the lyrics difficult for you, but you don’t have to understand every word to know that this song means a lot to him.

The song ends.

You cheer and clap instantly, bouncing in the chair. Hoseok doesn’t react to your cheers. He merely tilts his head to the side in a twitch and clicks his tongue, looking displeased.

“Ah I could add more reverb at one sixty”, he says and leans on the table as he works with a stern expression.

“This was amazing, Hobi. Look, I’ve got goosebumps”, you say, showing off your arm.

“You think so?”

“Yes. It was amazing. It had me totally captured and I wanna listen to the song whenever I do something I need motivation for.”

Hoseok turns and sits down on the edge of the desk. He still has his arms crossed.

“Thanks ___, that means a lot.”

“I’m serious. You’re so talented.”

“Thank you”, his features soften as if he finally starts to like the song as well, “yeah, I’m proud of it”, he says and smiles, “it took me a long time to get there, but it’s a good song. You know, I need my stuff to be perfect and I can’t rest till I’m satisfied.”

“I know. You’re a perfectionist”, you tease, nudging him in the thigh.

“Yeah true”, he agrees and pushes himself off the table, “we should check on the noodle water.”

The water is boiling when you enter the kitchen so Hoseok pours in some pasta while you prepare the pesto and a plate for later. You set a timer on your phone, showing it to Hoseok.

“We’ve got around eight minutes to spare. Any more songs you can show me?”

“No, but I’ve got a living room we can chill in."

You chuckle, “you’re so secretive with your songs.”

“Hey, they have to be perfect. I already stressed out ‘cause you listened to More.”

“Okay, okay I’m not saying anything. For what it’s worth, I genuinely think it’s an amazing song.”

“Yeah? Thanks, uhm”, he flusters and giggles, “shit, you got me giggling. Hah, thanks.”

You chuckle fondly, “you’re cute, Hobi.”

You eat your pasta in the living room, chatting about everything and anything while outside it storms. You and he clean the kitchen after you finished dinner and then return to the living room for dessert and more chatting.

You and he share the sofa. Hoseok is sipping on a glass of blood while you opted for hot cocoa.

“Are you okay?”Hoseok asks, interrupting your monologue about your library experience today.

“Why are you asking?”

“Cause you’ve been rubbing your shoulders since we sat down.”

“Oh yeah. I guess I’m just a little tense. My backbag was really heavy today and it fucked my shoulders. It hurts.”

“I can massage you.”

“Really?”

Hoseok nods his head.

“Yes please. Oh my god, my saviour”, you say and get off the couch to sit down in front of him. Hoseok hands you a blanket so you can cover your lower body and then he turns so you were between his legs and he could reach your shoulders.

He rubs his hands together to warm them.

“Should I take off the hoodie?” you ask.

“No it’s fine. I’m starting. Is that okay for you?”

“Yes, it’s okay.”

With your consent, Hoseok places his hands on your shoulders. He begins his massage by rubbing the flat of his palms up and down your shoulders and arms.

“What did you wanna tell me before I interrupted you?” he asks.

“Mhm? Oh yeah! As I was saying, I tried to use the computer to look for the book and it didn’t show me anything.”

“Oh no. How did you find it then?”

Hoseok begins rubbing circles into your shoulders, looking for the tighter areas so he could relax them.

“That’s when it gets cool because I used magic to find it.”

“Yo, really?”

“Yes, really. I concentrated really hard and thought of the words Yoongi taught me and then suddenly, I heard a small bell sound.”

“A bell sound?” Hoseok gasps. He is putting pressure into his touches, relaxing the tense areas. They are hard under his fingertips, no wonder you were in pain.

“Yeah seriously, a bell sound. And it became louder the closer I got to the book and then bam.”

Hoseok gasps.

“The book was right there. In front of my eyes.”

“Okay that’s so funky. What the hell?”

You snicker, nodding your head.

“I felt like a real witch then. I almost yelled until I realised I was at the library.”

Hoseok chuckles, “you’re seriously so cool. I know who to call if I ever lose something again.”

“Yes please do. Ah”, you tense up, “ah geez, it hurts.”

“Relax. You’re too tense”, Hoseok says.

“It hurts a lot, you know?”

“I know. You’re really tight in this area”, he says, digging his thumbs into the area.

“I know, ah geez”, you hiss, writhing in discomfort, “no need to break my shoulders, ah.”

“I’m not even using a lot of my strength”, he defends himself and lessens the pressure, “how’s that?”

“Yeah, it’s better. Sorry, I’m a little wimp when it comes to getting massaged.”

“It’s chill. I can be gentle”, he says, rubbing circles into your neck.

You feel yourself shiver. Not only because of the relaxing touches, but also because of his words. You are very well aware that he didn’t mean them in a sexy way, but it’s difficult not to understand them in such a way when Yoongi’s words still run through your mind. You ogle the TV, then the armchair next to it. Yoongi told you what Hoseok did to him on that chair. You fumble with your own fingers, feeling your heart speed up in your chest. Would it be weird to bring it up right now? He is being such a good friend and you don’t want to make him uncomfortable by being a horny slut. You are aware that Hoseok is a very down to fuck kind of guy, but just because he is, doesn’t mean that he always has to be in the mood to be a horndog. He’s just a person after all and a person you love so very dearly.

“What’s wrong?” Hoseok asks, placing his delicate hands on your upper arms, “am I being too rough?”

“W-why do you ask?” you stutter.

“Your heart’s racing”, he says and rubs your arms, “I can stop if you don’t want to anymore.”

“No, I uhm, no. Hah”, you laugh breathily, “sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Okay? Do you wanna tell me?”

“It’s okay. I don’t wanna make you feel weird.”

“Dude, now you gotta tell me. You can’t just say that. I’m a nosy bastard”, he says, pushing you gently. He laughs.

You laugh, swaying back and forth.

“Yeah I guess”, you say.

“So? Tell me”, he encourages you.

You turn and lift your head so you can look up at him. Hoseok switches between looking into your right and left eye, letting his hands tangle between his legs.

“You gotta pinky promise not to be weird”, you say, lifting your hand.

Hoseok hooks his pinky finger with yours, “promise”, he says and seals it by pressing his thumb against yours, “now open your mouth and talk. You’re making me nervous.”

You lower your hand and take a deep breath, “I’d be down to watch your movies”, you say.

Hoseok gawks at you. His mouth falls open. The silence is intense. His eyes are almost round from how widely he opens them. His reaction is understandable and adorable.

“If you’d be down that is”, you add, giving him a little lopsided smile afterwards.

“I uh”, he lets out and blinks quickly. His air leaves him in a breathy laugh, his right hand comes to touch his chest, “a-are, are you sure?”

You nod your head, “I’m curious what all the talk is about”, you say and scoot closer to nudge his chest, “you’ve got Yoongi still talking about what you guys did that night.”

Hoseok exhales in a laugh and turns his head to the side. His hand shoots up to rub the side of his neck, coyness washes over his features.

“He does?”

“Yeah, totally. You know what he told me on the phone today?”

Hoseok shakes his head. He still isn’t looking at you, fumbling with his own ear nervously.

“That maybe you’ll show me your stuff and that I should have fun. You’ve seriously messed him up back then.”

“Yo dude that’s just- yo”, Hoseok says and stumbles off the couch, running his hands through his fluffy hair. He laughs, but it sounds nervous and so not at all like Hoseok.

“What’s wrong?” you ask him, following him with your eyes. He is prancing up and down, rubbing the nape of his neck.

“You’re messing with me, that’s what up. You?” he looks at you with widened eyes.

“What about me?”

“Outta all the people coming here begging for a fuck, you’d be last I expected this from.”

“Why?” you ask in a chuckle, “you’ve got Yoongi talking about it and Kook mentioning it when I fuck him dumb. I wanna see what the deal is about. Besides, I was just asking if we could watch your stuff, I never mentioned sex.”

Hoseok scoffs, “sure ___.”

You cross your arms in front of your chest and pout, “we don’t have to do it you know? Wow, I feel so attacked right now.”

Hoseok studies you for a moment.

“Yeah uhm, give me a moment”, he says and then leaves the room.

You boil in your loneliness, feeling like dying would be less awkward than what just happened. Out of all the reactions you expected Hoseok to have, pure shock and the need to flee wasn’t one of them. You expected gloating, pride, happiness and cocky teasing, but not for him to run away. You touch your own chest because the embarrassment you feel sits heavy in your chest. This was the most humiliating shit you ever pulled. Fuck, you want to dissolve into thin air.

You pull out your phone to text Yoongi and ask him if he could come pick you up, but before you can, Hoseok is back in the room. He is carrying a translucent hard plastic box filled with cassettes and DVDs.

“Sorry it took me a while, I had to make sure the collection’s complete”, he says and puts the box on the coffee table in front of you, “I still got a box upstairs. Let me get it”, he says and disappears again.

You have never felt lighter before. All the embarrassment from before is gone from your chest. He didn’t quit on you, he just got his stuff. You sit down on the edge of the sofa and begin looking through the box. The movies seem to be from the nineties and two thousands. He’s on a few covers. Naked and with a hard-on. You try not to look at it even if you were literally moments away from watching him fuck on TV.

“Okay, I think this should be everything now. I’ve also got my Only Fans, but you have to subscribe to see that stuff”, Hoseok says and places the second box next to the first one. The box was filled with DVDs and hard drives. He sits down next to you, close enough that your legs were touching, “see anything you like?” he asks, placing his arm around you. He doesn’t let it touch you, instead he just makes you hyperaware of its presence behind you. You feel yourself fluster because Hoseok has never been that close to you with an underlying sexual intention. Of course you and he hug and cuddle as friends, but initiating touch with the near future of fucking is new to you.

You turn your head to him. Hoseok meets your eyes. You and he are just inches away from kissing. The close proximity makes you feel giddy. He’s got really pretty eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, studying your eyes and then your lips.

“Nothing.”

“Nervous?”

You look away, “shut up.”

“Wah look at you”, Hoseok coos and bumps his chest into you playfully, “moments ago you wanted to watch my stuff and now you’re nervous about it.”

“Dude, shut up”, you complain.

Hoseok giggles and pulls you into him with a strong arm just so he can shake you around a little.

“Look at you being nervous.”

“Shut up”, you whine, “I’ll punch you in the balls, I’m serious.”

“Hey, hey don’t ruin what’ll benefit you later. My balls are precious cargo, ___.”

You roll your eyes, shoving him off of you, “you’re annoying.”

“Why? I’m just saying.”

“Urgh whatever”, you say and look back into the boxes.

Hoseok scoots closer and reaches into the first box. He pulls out a DVD. He is on the cover, oiled up and with his dick in his hands. You are looking right at it if you wanted to or not. It’s well-shaped, an impressive length and just girthy enough that you have to do a double take. It almost looks – to put it frankly – just a little bit out of place on him. He is a very petite guy, slender and fit, and his cock looks almost massive on his body. His elegant fingers look so small around it.

“Your dick’s huge, dude. What the hell?”

Hoseok laughs, “right? It’s my vampire cock though. People never noticed, but it comes in handy when you can grow your dick.”

“I can imagine. For porn it’s practical”, you say and glance at his face.

He meets your eyes.

“I hope you know that this is really fucking awkward for me.”

He chuckles, “it’s not awkward for me.”

“I know. You’re an exhibitionist.”

“Right”, he nudges you gently, “don’t be awkward. It’s just me naked and very hard.”

He makes you laugh which lessens the awkwardness.

“Yeah, right that’s the issue here. You’re my best friend and now I’m looking at your boner. I really didn’t think this through. Dude, that’s what happens when you massage me, I say stuff.”

“I’m your best friend?” he sounds moved.

“Yeah. Well. Technically Yoongi’s like my bestest friend, but you’re my best friend. You know?”

“This just got really emotional right now. Thank you, ___”, he says and drapes his arm over you to pull you into a soft temple kiss.

You lean into it, feeling good about it.

“You’re one of my best friends too”, he says and gives you a little squeeze, “we don’t have to do this, you know? It’s okay if you changed your mind.”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t wanna stop. I just have to live with the fact that now I know how huge your dick is.”

He laughs and lifts the DVD into your vision, “wanna know why I picked this?”

“Cause your cock’s huge?”

He laughs, “no it’s because this is the movie I watched with Yoongi that got him all horny”, he says and flips the cover. His co-star is on the back, showing off his oiled-up hole. You do another double take not for cock reasons, but because the actor looks way too similar to Yoongi. Hoseok, who saw your eyes flit back for a second glimpse, grins, “you’re seeing it too, aren’t you?”

“I do. What the hell?” you gasp, grabbing the cover to get a closer look, “are sure that that’s not Yoongi and he just erased your memories back then?”

Hoseok laughs, “it could be a theory. But no, that’s Niragi. We did a few films together, but then lost contact.”

“It’s crazy how similar they look. Except for maybe their holes.”

Hoseok snort laughs, “___”, he gasps and nudges you.

You snicker, glancing at him, “I’m just saying. Yoongi’s not that loose.”

“I know. I felt it”, Hoseok says and looks at your lips.

You feel it, just as you feel your heart speed up because of it.

“We could watch that if you want”, he whispers.

“Intriguing, but I wanna see you act with a woman. Got something that looks like me?”

He chuckles, “babygirl, no one’s ever come close to your beauty”, he partially jokes.

You roll your eyes and nudge his chest, “sweet talker.”

He smirks and shrugs his shoulders. He gives your lips one last hungry gaze then finally looks back into the boxes, “I’ve got something you could like. You like female gaze stuff, don’t you?”

“Do I give off those vibes?”

“With the men you date? Yeah.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask in a laugh.

“They’re at your feet worshipping your every step. I’d be surprised if they even as much as called you bad girl in bed.”

You snort, “you’d be surprised then.”

“Mhm, surprise me”, Hoseok purrs and pulls out a black hard drive, “that’s where the good shit is”, he says and stands up, “get ready for a good show ‘cause I fucked like rent’s due in this movie.”

“I’m expecting great things, you know that don’t you?”

Hoseok squats down in front of his TV.

“Yeah, I do”, he glances at you over his shoulder. He lifts it after a second and giggles, “shit, I’m nervous now. You’re gonna watch my shit.”

You study him. He is so attractive to you right now. Shit, you’re getting horny. It’s so easy to get you turned on.

“Or, I don’t know, we could skip the movie and make out instead?”

Hoseok hesitates. Hoseok takes a deep breath. Hoseok looks at your lips. And Hoseok places the hard drive aside just to stand up and hurry to you. He falls to his knees in front of you, placing his hands on your knees. Like this, you are almost face to face, sharing intense silence and even more intense eye contact.

“Is this a yes?” you ask him.

He nods his head, looking at your lips.

You move in, but Hoseok moves back.

“Mhm?” you are confused.

“I just need to know that this isn’t gonna ruin what we have”, he says. You never heard him with such seriousness in his voice before, “I like you so much and I don’t wanna lose you just ‘cause of one night. If tonight’s gonna fuck us up, I don’t wanna continue.”

“It’s not gonna ruin it for me. You?”

“It’s not gonna ruin it, no fuck”, he laughs breathily, “fuck, I wanted to make out with you for ages. Not that I’m one of those desperate dudes thinking they’re friendzoned, it’s just that I kiss my friends if they’re into it. Or fuck them. And show them my porn.”

You laugh, “I know, Hobi. We’re not traditional. None of us.”

“Yeah, it’s the fucking best”, he says and moves in, cupping your cheek with both hands. His nose brushes yours, your heart skips a beat. He is looking at your lips as he talks, caressing your cheeks, “one last chance.”

“Shut up, Hobi”, you whisper and pull him in with your hand at the nape of his neck.

Hoseok stumbles into you, moaning against your lips as he scrambles to find your rhythm. You didn’t give him a difficult rhythm to follow, no, Hoseok is just simply overwhelmed by the sensation of feeling your lips on his’.

You pull back. Hoseok is looking at your lips with half-lidded eyes and a faint smile.

“Did you brush your teeth?” you ask him.

“Yeah”, he says and pulls you back into the kiss. His hand comes in contact with the side of your face before naturally gliding down to hold the side of your neck. His fingers are long enough that you can feel them brush against the nape of your neck. The touch sends the biggest shivers down your spine.

You moan into the kiss and hook your arms behind his head, tangling your fingers deep in his hair. It’s softer than you imagined it to be and that means a lot because you imagined it to be soft. Hoseok also kisses so much better than you imagined him to kiss. He knows just when to give your lips a little suck, when to involve his teeth and when to let you do your thing. His tongue also knows exactly when to trace your lips to make you crave more.

“Shit, you’re so good”, Hoseok murmurs between kissing you, standing up with his arms hooked under your legs. He lifts you off the couch easily, purring deeply when you press yourself closer and bite his lower lip. You are squirming in his arms. Just as Hoseok had thought. You’re into getting carried.

He bounces you in his arms and finally allows his tongue to stay involved for longer than a small trace. You moan, meeting his kisses with eagerness. His lips are so soft, he tastes so good and whenever he bounces you there is friction against your pussy.

Hoseok purrs, walking with a dizzy head. He is so happy for his vampire senses right now, because you are stealing his sanity. This isn’t the first kiss you and he shared, but it feels like it to him. The night at the masquerade ball is a memory in his mind these days. It happened so many years ago and is tainted by the fun influence of alcohol. But this isn’t the result of alcohol, this is untainted and real. Hoseok almost stumbles up the stairs because he’s so excited.

He stops once he is upstairs, pressing you against the wall to break the kiss.

“Shit baby. Can I call you baby for tonight?” he rasps and begins kissing neck.

You roll your head back, revealing your vulnerable spots to him.

“Yeah, you can”, you sigh, playing with his hair and sending shivers down his spine in the process.

“You’re so fucking hot, baby. Fuck”, Hoseok moans. His breath tickles your skin, his lips follow. It feels so good that you can’t stop gasping and squirming in his arms.

There was another occasion where you and he shared a kiss. Back when Alpha was still evil and you still hated Yoongi, you came to Hoseok’s room to comfort him after a fight with Yoongi. You and Hoseok talked and somehow the conversation shifted into you giving him a kiss. Back then, Hoseok was high after smoking too much weed and the kiss felt blurry to him.

Tonight feels like fucking ecstasy to him. He is clear in the head and gets to kiss you so fucking passionately. He growls, letting his fangs grace your skin. This is turning him on so fucking bad. He sucks needily.

“Ah, Hobi”, you gasp, arching your back.

The contact breaks because he pulled back.

“Sorry, fuck”, he apologises, kissing the tender spot. He got too excited and sucked a hickey onto your skin. Now the spot is pulsating in sensitivity, “fuck, I can’t believe this is real. You’re so fucking sexy. Fuck, baby”, he growls and rolls his hips into you. His clothed cock grinds against your clothed pussy, sending electric tingles through your bodies.

You and he moan at the same time. You pull him closer while he chases you with another thrust.

You tug his head up by his hair and give him a second of droopy eye contact before you push him onto your lips. He finds your rhythm instantly, sharing the sloppiest tongue kisses with you. He growls into you, breaking away from the wall to carry you to his room. It’s not far anymore and he needs you under him.

He doesn’t bother closing the door because it’s just you and him in this big house. Nobody can run in on you and it doesn’t matter if the door is closed or not, he’ll have you screaming for him either way. No door will keep the noises out.

He places you on top his bed and steps back to take off his shirt. He throws it onto the ground, looking at you with lowered eyes.

“Couldn’t you have turned the lights on?” you ask in a chuckle.

“Ah yeah, sorry I forgot you can’t see in the dark”, he says and turns on his bedside lamp, "better?"

You look at him instantly, letting your eyes run up and down his torso. Hoseok falls into a pose instantly, taking off his sweats as he does. He keeps his briefs on. They’re the bikini cut type, dark blue and bulging in the front. He is very obviously hard, forcing your eyes to stay on his crotch.

“You’re so hot”, you say, writhing needily.

“Thanks”, he says and climbs onto bed. He takes the spot above you, claiming your lips in a kiss. He keeps his left hand rested beside your head while his right hand dances down your body to play with the hem of your sweats. Your lips tremble against his’, your hands touch his chest. He breaks the kiss but keeps close, “is that okay for me to do?”

“Yeah” you allow him, lifting your hips.

“Thank you. You can always stop this”, he says and takes off your pants.

“I know. You too”, you tell him, writhing needily.

Hoseok wastes no time and takes off your boxers as well, throwing them on the bed beside him. The hoodie he borrowed you is long enough that it covers your pussy. You squirm on the sheets, pressing your thighs together as best as possible.

“Nervous?” he asks.

“A little. You?”

“Yeah, dude”, he laughs breathily, “I’m so fucking nervous. I could shit myself.”

You laugh, “please don’t.”

He snickers, “mhm no, I won’t”, he whispers and kisses your neck.

You close your eyes, rolling your head to the side as a happy sigh slips past your lips.

Hoseok pushes your legs apart with his knees, running his right hand down your torso while his left is propped up beside your head. He listens to your heartbeat for any kind of change. It is racing and increases in speed the further down his hand dances.

Hoseok nudges your head so it rolls to the other side and he can kiss your neck there. You purr softly, squirming under him. Your pulse is fluttering. Hoseok moves closer to your pussy. Your heart skips a beat. He swerves past your heat and feels up your inner thighs instead.

Up and down. Up and down. Hoseok traces your soft skin with just his fingertips. He comes close enough to your pussy that you know his touch is there and yet never close enough that you can feel it. It’s making you squirm more and more.

You reach up, placing your hands on his chest.

“Hobi”, you sigh, sliding your fingers to his nipples. You rub them gently, eliciting a deep purr from him.

“Mhm keep going. I like it”, he rasps and bites your earlobe softly, “is it okay for me to touch your pussy?”

“Yes, is okay. You fucking tease”, you allow him, rolling your hips up.

“Mhm yeah”, he agrees and dances his fingers up your inner thigh.

You shiver. The thought that soon you will feel his touch is making his fingers feel so much better on your skin.

Hoseok touches you.

“Ah”, you let out, feeling his chest vibrate in a deep purr. His fingers part you for him, starting off at your entrance and painting a path up to your clit. He does a swirl when he’s reached her, then dances his fingers down to your entrance again. It is a gentle touch, barely any pressure is involved. You have to keep squirming because these kinds of touches always feel so much more intense.

Hoseok puts distance between your neck and his lips. He studies your face and how you have it scrunched in pleasure. He takes a shaky breath, bundling the sheets next to your head. He’s so into this.

“I wanna taste you”, he confesses, “is it ok-”

“Yeah…” you interrupt him in a breathy voice and your body writhing sensually.

“Shit, you’re hot”, he rasps and abandons you for the sake of shimmying down. He kneels by the bed and wraps his arms around your thighs, pulling you closer to his face.

He looks up. Your eyes are focused on the ceiling, you are breathing heavily. Pretty. He thinks you’re so pretty.

He switches his gaze to your pussy. Your sweetened scent is taking up his senses. He lowers his eyes halfway, running them over your exposed heat. Kissing made you wet. It sticks to you and waits to be devoured.

“So fucking pretty”, Hoseok growls deeply and connects his mouth with your pussy.

He drags his tongue through your folds, starting on your entrance until he reaches your clit. You gasp, hold your breath and release it in a quiet whimper.

Hoseok purrs, pressing his tongue against you. He shakes his head, grinding on you this way. This is still a warm up. He’s barely began. You’re so sweet and he needs all of it on his tongue. No wonder your boys are obsessed. Hoseok feels himself get addicted as well.

He stops shaking his head and moves it so his tongue dances up your pussy. He flicks it against your clit, feeling your thighs twitch in reaction. So he does it again. He flicks his tongue against your clit quickly, holding your thighs as they begin trembling.

“Oh god”, you whisper and reach for his hair. You stop yourself. You drop your hand.

“It’s okay. Hold on if you need it”, he allows you and uses the moment to also praise you, “your pussy tastes so good. Fuck, I wanna devour you.”

“O-oh god”, you stutter out and writhe.

“Mhm, so sweet”, Hoseok purrs, burying his face back in your heat. His nose is grinding against you as he sucks on your clit. He keeps you pinned with his strong arms around your thighs, making you take every single second of the hungry feast.

You whimper and reach for his hair to grab it desperately. Your other arm lies itself over your own eyes.

“Fuck. Hoseok….”

Hoseok closes his eyes and moans into you. He releases your clit, slurping up his drool running down your folds. You tug and twist his hair, trembling in his hold.

“Hold onto me, that’s it. Good girl”, he lulls his words because you’ve got him pussy drunk. It’s only been a few moments, Hoseok is aware, but he fucking loves eating pussy. Especially when that pussy belongs to his pretty best friend with her pretty moans and prettier taste.

Hoseok lowers himself for the sake of burying his tongue in your pussy. His long fingers grip your hips and tilt them for easier access. His nose is pressed against you, grinding into you each time he fucks his tongue deep.

“Hoseok oh god”, you get out and choke out a moan, arching your back because it’s impossible to stay still when he is filling you up like this.

He breaks away, letting his spit connect himself with you.

“So fucking sweet, baby. You’ve got such a heavenly pussy”, he praises and spits on her for contrast.

“Ah”, you flinch at the feeling, writhing seconds later when Hoseok slurps up the sinful mess, “Hobi please.”

Hoseok moans, looking up at you again. You’re begging. You’re that type of person. He slips his hand into his briefs to get his cock out because the revelation makes his cock ache. He jerks it off desperately, fucking his tongue deep into your sweet pussy. Those people are his favourites. Oh so ruined by pleasure they start begging without knowing what they’re even begging for. He fucking loves them.

Fuck, he wants to drag every single plea from your tongue. Hoseok furrows his brows and growls against you, speeding up his tongue as he presses himself as close as possible.

“Oh god, please”, you keen, twisting his hair. Your thighs close around his head. You have to grab more of him or otherwise you are losing yourself. He is so fast and sloppy. And so chillingly cool. Because he only consumed blood bags lately, his skin is cold to the touch and yet his mouth carries enough warmth to give you a constant change of temperature. One second his cold nose is grinding against your clit and in the next, his hot tongue follows. The contrast is keeping you on edge and desperate for more.

“Please ah”, you beg and grab his wrist.

Hoseok untangles his left hand from your thigh, sliding it together with your hand. You squeeze him instantly. Your palm is damp and hot.

You writhe and shake, pressing out another plea.

Hoseok growls, looking up at you with darkened eyes. You’re so fucking precious. Look at you needing to hold his hand. You are squeezing him oh so desperately that he wonders if you want to never let go again. He brushes his thumb over your knuckles in soothing and begins concentrating his licks on your clit.

No more playing around. He needs you shaking.

He switches between licking your clit and sucking on it, combining the two sensations until they become this electric blend of never ending pleasure.

“This is gonna make me cum”, you get out and whimper, writhing on the sheets.

Good. Hoseok wants you to climax. This is all he is working towards right now. Your sweet, sweet orgasm on the tip of his tongue. Hoseok dreamed about it for years. He hate fucks his own fist in desperation, making love to your pussy in contrast.

“Hobi this is- ah”, you press out and shudder. You tug at his hair, closing your thighs tighter around his head.

He can hear your blood rush deep inside your muscles. It is rushing and pulsating oh so fucking quickly. He squeezes his eyes shut and sucks your clit between his lips to keep it there and swirl his tongue over it.

“Ah”, you get out and grow silent. You tense up before growing slack within the blink of an eye. Your pussy begins throbbing under his tongue. He’s got you.

“Oh god, ah”, you mewl, filling the air with squeaky moans afterwards. This feels so good. Your legs feel like jello, the heat in your pussy is unbearable. He’s got you climaxing so fucking hard that you actually feel too ruined to keep breathing.

You grab his hair and fuck your hips up against his face, needing it to last so much fucking longer.

Hoseok lets you hump his face with desperate moans leaving him. He keeps his tongue stuck out, basking in every new layer of sweetness you cover his nose with. Shit, he won’t get rid of your scent for days. It’s so deeply burned into him. Hoseok’s in fucking heaven, soiling his hand in his excitement. He isn’t orgasming, he is just very leaky.

“Oh go-god”, you soon drop into the sheets, shuddering in the aftermaths of your high. Your fingers fall from his hair and let go of his hand, “holy fuck.”

Hoseok purrs and gives your clit a kiss. He sucks on her one last time even if you flinch in overstimulation. You had to take it, Hoseok needed one last reminder of your sweet taste.

“Good girl”, he rasps and smiles, “you’re such a good girl, babygirl.”

You mewl quietly, squirming from the praise.

Hoseok drops your thighs for the sake of feeling up your sides as he kisses a path up to your face. His hard cock keeps leaking onto you as he goes. He can’t help it, he’s so fucking needy for more.

He kisses your neck. You press into him instantly, rolling your head to the side until your nose brushes against his cheek.

Hoseok lifts his head, meeting your droopy gaze. You smile and giggle. Hoseok feels his tummy flutter. He gives you his prettiest heart-shaped smile and a little giggle with a nose scrunch.

“We just did that”, you say.

“Yeah right. I loved it”, he says.

“Me too”, you confess and touch his mouth.

Hoseok lets you with bated breath and parted lips. You are so mesmerised by his lips, looking so utterly enchanted by them.

“Your lips are pretty”, you whisper and trace one specific spot repeatedly, “you’ve got a mole there. It’s pretty.”

“Uhm”, Hoseok lets out and lowers his head because he’s actually flustered.

You snicker and drop your hand to instead touch his wrist.

“Can I suck your cock?”

Hoseok lifts his head again in shock, “sorry?”

“Can I suck your cock? I promise I won’t bite it off.”

He laughs, feeling his entire body tingle in butterflies. You snicker, gazing up at him with sparkly, yet lustful eyes.

“Can I?” you ask, tracing his pecs with your nails. His nipples harden instantly, throbbing oh so needily when you brush your fingers over them.

“Fuck, I’m fucked what the fuck”, he lets out and rolls off of you.

“Why?” you ask, straddling his lap.

Hoseok sits up, gripping your hips. Your wet pussy is dripping onto his thigh, your weight is like heaven on his lap. He gazes up at you, drinking in every fucking inch of your face.

“I’m so fucking into you that it’s giving me butterflies”, he whispers.

“Good”, you say and push him down by his chest. He falls, letting out a breathy moan as his back hits the sheets. His hair is ruffled, his hands fall on each side of his head and stay there.

“Stay”, you order and crawl off of him. You run your hands down his body and take off his briefs as you go, eliciting goosebumps to the surface of his skin. He moans quietly, chasing your touch with squirms.

“Feels good”, he whispers and rolls his hips up in synch with your hands parting his legs by rubbing his inner thighs, “ah, yeah feels really good. Hah”, he lets out and laughs breathily.

Hoseok’s bed is low enough that you can kneel comfortably and reach his cock. You do so, dragging him to the edge as you fall to your knees. Hoseok mewls in reaction, gasping for fucking air. His body is burning up. You are fucking messing with him. Your knees hit the floor. The fluffy rug under you gives extra cushioning.

You reach the end of his inner thighs, rubbing circles into the spot where his groin blends into them. Hoseok parts his legs further. His cock twitches needily. You can also watch how his chest begins heaving up and down as his breathing speeds up in excitement.

You glide your right hand to his cock, placing your palm against the upper side of it while your fingers stay stretched. You don’t want to give him too many touches yet. You want your tongue to be the first thing he feels.

Hoseok sucks in air.

You move in and connect your tongue with his base, licking up a thick, wet stripe along the underside of his cock until ending it with a quick flick on his tip.

“Shit”, Hoseok releases his air in a breathy moan, closing his fingers around the sheets right next to his head. He can barely grip them, but it has to be enough. Your tongue feels like fucking heaven on his cock and he’s already burning up.

You hum and drag your tongue down his cock again, swirling it over his balls to get a good feel of them. His skin is soft and cool against your tongue. He throbs at the first contact, making you want more because it was so delicious to have him throb for you. You suck the sensitive skin of his balls between your lips just long enough that it stings a little.

Hoseok reacts in a throaty moan and his hips squirming restlessly. You release him again, guiding your wet tongue up his cock in repeated small, yet terribly sloppy licks. It results in his shaft getting all slickened with your spit. You use it to finally wrap your fingers around him and jerk him off, taking his cockhead between your lips at the same time.

“A-ah”, Hoseok moans, reaching down to grab the back of your head. His hips buck up, forcing his cock to glide over your tongue, and drops his hips again, which almost makes his cock flop out of your greedy mouth.

You let him hold your head. He clearly needs it. You force down the cocky smirk and instead hum around him as you begin bopping your head up and down his cock. You jerk off what you decide not to fit inside right now and dance your left hand up his torso until you can play with his nipples.

Hoseok is moaning so much. He tries not to be too loud, but he genuinely can’t stop his voice from working. He gasps for air and each time he exhales, it happens naturally that he makes the neediest of sounds.

You like what he does. You find great enjoyment in making men noisy for you. There is something very satisfying about using your mouth or hands to turn an otherwise well-spoken man into a moaning mess. Somehow making Hoseok moan feels even more satisfying to you. It is as if you want to prove something to him and show off with what you can do, so hearing him be so incredibly noisy feels as if you are being very successful.

You slip off of him for a moment, spitting on his cock just to pick it up with your hand and spread it in quick movements.

“Holy shit”, Hoseok whispers and arches off the sheets, “ah, a-ah what the fuck?”

His legs are shaking and he can’t do anything against it. Not many people manage to do that to him. Hoseok drops his hand from your head to instead grip the sheets and twist them. His cock twitches and throbs so nicely between your fingers, leaking translucent desperation which aches to be tasted.

“What the actual fuck?” he gets out and squeaks in a moan.

You purr and take him back inside, sucking off his wetness until he writhes under you. Now with his tip incredibly sensitive, you finally take him inside as deep as you can.

Hoseok moans your name and throws his head back, resulting in the sheets to crinkle and his chest to stick up into the air. Your fingers can’t reach his nipples this way, but you don’t mind. You take his balls between your fingers instead, fondling them as your throat jerks off his cock.

“You’re making me cum”, he gets out and groans. His right foot meets your thigh as somehow in his shakes, he manages to step on you. He doesn’t slip off, instead he uses the leverage to arch his back. He gasps, throbbing deep inside your mouth, “I’ll cum in your mouth, it’s gon-gonna happen, ah fuck.”

You moan around him, sending vibrations through his cock.

“Now, ah ___”, Hoseok moans and drops in the sheets as his orgasm takes a hold of him. He twitches and throbs inside you, covering your throat with his warm cum until it gets too much to hold and it trickles out of you. You slurp and suck hungrily, using the excess cum to jerk his cock.

Hoseok is quiet for eight seconds and then his voice finally comes back to him in a guttural growl, “holy fuuuck. What the fuuuck? Shiiit.”

He rolls his hips up needily, riding out the electric waves until the fire takes a hold of him.

“Fuck, okay. Stop”, he says, flinching in overstimulation.

You suck and suck on his tip even if it’s burning up.

“Stop please”, he begs, touching your head with trembling fingers, “hurts. Stop. Please.”

You slide off of him with a delicious moan and swallow, licking your lips just to get the droplets he left outside as well. He tastes so sweet. It’s insane how yummy vampires are. It’s like they are begging to be feasted upon. How paradisically ironic.

“Holy shit, ___. What the fuck was that?” Hoseok gets out as his legs twitch in the aftershocks.

“What do you mean? I sucked your cock”, you act oblivious on purpose, kissing paths up his thighs.

“You made my legs shake.”

“And?”

Hoseok sits up and cups your face just to pull you to your feet and therefore into a kiss. He uses his powers to get you on top of the bed and under him again. His knee is between your legs, his hands are restless on your body. He is moaning greedily, licking into your mouth as if he wanted to taste himself on you. You let him, tangling your fingers in his soft hair as your hips naturally begin squirming on his thigh. Shit, sucking his cock made you so wet. You can feel it sticking to his skin. You squirm harder, chasing the sensations. It feels so good to grind on him.

“What the fuck”, Hoseok breaks the kiss to instead very sloppily suck on your neck, “what the fuck? I’m done. That’s how you suck cock?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Dude, no wonder you’ve got your men wrapped around your fingers. Holy shit”, he babbles and shivers, “you’ve got me shivering in the aftershock. My legs never shake like this.”

“Mhm good”, you purr and squirm sensually.

“You’re fucking insane”, he rasps and reaches between your bodies. He can feel how wet you are and he is still hard as ever. You’ve also messed with his mind enough that he can’t think clearly anymore. All he wants is to fuck your pussy. The proper, respectful Hoseok is gone. You’ve turned him feral with your tongue. He shifts so his hips were between your legs and then drags his heavy cock through your folds. They feel so wet and puffy around his tip, moving right around him as he guides his cock against you.

“Oh? Ah”, you gasp and open your eyes, meeting his gaze, “Hobi…” you get out, scratching down the back of his neck just to grab his shoulders in the end.

His eyes are glowing red. His ivory cheeks are covered in black veins. You rarely see him in his vampiric state, so this is properly messing you up.

“I wanna take you”, he says and slaps his cockhead against your clit repeatedly. It sounds wet, makes you flinch and moan softly with each impact, “do you want me to?”

You nod your head, “yes.”

Hoseok gives your clit one last spank, then drags his cock down to your soaked entrance. He applies pressure and slips in without resistance.

“Holy fuck”, you and he get out at the same time, resulting in your eyes to meet knowingly.

“Jinx”, you joke and laugh softly.

Hoseok’s lips curl into a fond smile. He chuckles and tilts his head to the side, using the movement to lower himself to your face.

“Kidding, you can talk”, you say, making him laugh just as much as he moans. It results in those really deep, sexy chuckles, the kind which really messes with your sanity.

“You’re too much”, he rasps and bottoms out. He stays like this for a moment, closing his eyes to really enjoy how your walls pulsate and throb around him. He can also feel your heartbeat in them. It’s a vampire thing and means that it takes everything inside of Hoseok not to let his cock grow. He doesn’t know if your boys give you their vampire cocks and just in case they don’t, he doesn’t want to overwhelm you. Oh how sweetly naïve he is.

He furrows his brows and purrs deeply, nodding his head as if he agreed with what is happening right now.

“Yeah, you’re definitely fucking incredible”, he says and peels his eyes open halfway, “can I move?”

“Yeah. Move.”

With your consent, Hoseok finally picks up a rhythm. He really drags out his strokes, including a skilled roll of his hips each time he bottoms out. He knows that he doesn’t need to go fast to make you gasp.

And it works. Two strokes in and you release your first gasp, closing your eyes instinctively as his cock fucks the hottest electricity to the surface.

“How’s that, baby?” he asks in a whisper as his hand caresses the top of your head gently.

You nod your head, giving him a little mewl.

“Mhm, it’s fucking amazing for me too”, he says and closes his eyes, “shit, you feel so good.”

He straightens up, pressing his right hand into the pillow and grabbing a bundle of it. His muscles tense and shift under his ivory skin. The red neon lights really accentuate how strong he was despite his lean frame. He meets your eyes, feeling his stomach tighten in excitement. You look so blissed out, staring up at him with heavy, half-lidded eyes. He gives you a smile, overwhelming you with it to the point where your eyes roll back and close and you let out a needy whimper. You writhe under him, reaching up to grab his wrist.

“You’re so fucking pretty, holy shit”, Hoseok rasps and tenses his jaw.

“Harder”, you breathe.

“Yeah?”

You nod your head, wiggling your hips.

“Fuck baby, that’s hot”, Hoseok moans and gets to his knees. He lifts your legs and wraps them around his waist. You mewl under him, gawking up at him with foggy eyes. The stretch follows seconds later when Hoseok buries his girthy cock in your puffy pussy, bottoming out with a sensual roll of his hips and a deep purr rumbling in his chest.

“Hobi…”

“That’s it, take me”, he speaks in a deep voice, keeping you pinned with his ruby eyes, “take a deep breath for me, babygirl.”

You follow, feeling your mind scramble when Hoseok smiles proudly.

“Good job, babygirl. Keep breathing”, he praises and rewards you with deep strokes.

Your breath shudders, your senses blur. He is so rough in his movements and yet they are still so gentle. It is difficult to describe other than that Hoseok knows how to move his fucking hips and he is currently making sure you know that he can.

“That’s it, babygirl. That’s it, keep breathing”, he rasps, sliding his hand to your lower tummy so he can apply gentle pressure.

You writhe and mewl loudly, squeezing your eyes shut. You can feel his cock reshape your insides. He is so fucking deep. Oh god, you are so sensitive inside that every time he bottoms out, you feel fiery pleasure in your entire stomach.

“Fuck, your pussy’s so fucking tight like this. Gotta stretch it all out with my fat cock, mhm?” he taunts, making you whine in both embarrassment and pleasure. He’s got the dirtiest tongue. You feel yourself soaking his cock in reaction.

Hoseok pulls out to the tip, dragging it through your swollen folds. Once, twice, a third time to really mess with your mind. He pushes back inside and gives you his whole length with a harsh thrust. The kind of thrust which knocks a sound out of you and produces the most sinful of slapping sound. You could even feel his heavy balls hit your ass.

“Please…please…”

He moans in bliss from hearing you beg, showing you just how good he can reshape you by pulling out to his tip and fucking into you again. Harshly, just like before. He doesn’t stop after one thrust, keeping the rhythm going as his long fingers slip to your clit to begin circling her.

“Ah! Oh god! Hob-ah a-ah.”

“Feels good, babygirl?”

“Ye-yeah, yeah, yeah”, he fucks the words out of you. You try to nod your head, but you just end up shaking it around on the sheets rather clumsily. It gives your hair such a sexy messiness to it, “yes. Yes, yes, yes please don’t stop”, you chant, clenching around him.

“I won’t. I can do this for hours”, he rasps and fills you with his cock oh so deep.

Hoseok drinks up the view like an obsessed connoisseur. Fuck, you’re the sweetest artwork he ever looked at. He’s got you, doesn’t he? After years and years of imagining how it might be to fuck you, he’s finally got you. And it’s fucking better than any fantasy he could have ever thought up.

“It feels so goo-good”, you sob, spilling tears from the corners of your eyes.

“‘Feels good for me too. Fuck”, Hoseok spits the last word, falling to his hand so he was right above you. Your hips tilt up, allowing his cock to pound you in a better angle. His right hand is still playing with your clit, keeping her throbbing and sensitive. His weight is on you, keeping you where he needs you to be. Wrapped around him and stuffed with cock.

“Hobi”, you mewl, spilling new tears because everything just feels too good.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, yes ah yes.”

“Fuck, I love hearing that”, he moans, “you’re driving me insane”, he adds and kisses you. He can’t take it anymore. He needs to taste your moans, your sobs and gasps for air. His fangs clash with your teeth messily, but you have enough practice with kissing vampires that you find the right rhythm soon. Sloppy, wet tongue kisses. Desperate sucks and nibbles on each other’s lips. Moments where moans are mixing and breaths intertwine. Your fingers bury themselves deep in his soft hair, his fingers increase the pressure on your clit.

You can’t grasp the passage of time when he’s got you fucked so good. Hoseok doesn’t care about it either, basking in the blissful time vacuum with you as your bodies connect in harsh strokes. Outside the storm calms down. Outside the night arrives with dark skies and quiet streets. While inside, the red lights keep you illuminated and your bodies get ruined in the sweetest way.

“Holy fuck, Hobi ah”, you whimper, writhing under him. He’s fucked you long enough that you’re almost there.

“Yeah, that’s good mhm? So fucking good”, he lulls, dragging his lips up your neck, “fuck, you’re so fucking wet. Keep creaming my cock baby, I love it.”

“You’re making me cum soon.”

“Yeah?” he moans against your lips, “fuck that’s hot. Don’t hold back, babygirl. I’ve got you.”

“Hobi, I have to- ah, I have to, to...I have…”

“It’s okay, everything’s okay. Don’t be scared, I’ve got you. I’m right here.”

His words are like the most wonderful hug to you. You feel so safe. He fills you with so much warmth and tingles that you fall over the edge with a whimper of his name and your legs pulling him closer.

Hoseok slows down his thrusts, keeping his cock buried deep and giving you sensual circles so your favourite spots would experience the fire as well. He presses his fingers against your clit, letting her experience warmth and pressure. This feels so good. There are no words for how good he makes you feel.

“That’s it, you’re doing such a good job. Good girl, you’re doing such a good job”, he talks you through it, making it even better with every sweet word he speaks.

You drop the back you didn’t even know you were arching and grab the nape of his neck.

“Hobi, holy fuck”, you choke out and pull his face into the crook of your neck.

“Ah, hey”, he falls with a chuckle and his right hand slamming into the pillow beside your head. It closes around the pillow desperately when seconds later, you are rutting up into him. Your legs are locked around his hips, keeping them from fleeing (not that he wanted to), your pussy is so tight around him.

Hoseok’s voice pitches, his body shudders uncontrollably.

“What are you doing?” he squeaks out, twisting the pillow, “a-ah holy fuck please slow, I’ll cum. Slow, you’re making me cum, s-slow ah.”

“Fill me up, please. Hobi please wanna be creamed”, you beg and twist his hair. You are cockdrunk. There is no denying that. He made you cum so fucking hard that all you want right now is for him to paint your walls white.

“Shit, ah”, he trembles, “shit, holy shit, ah fuck”, he pants and chases your hips in quick ruts. Four strokes it takes him, four strokes and then it gets all too much for him. He climaxes with a pitched moan of your name and his left arm pulling you against his chest.

“Yes, ah Hobi. Thank you”, you mewl, holding him close as his cock fills you with his hottest orgasm.

“You feel so good”, he gets out and drops on top of you. He shudders, exhaling against your neck with a defeated sound leaving him, “holy fuck.”

“Yeah”, you agree, snuggling your cheek against his head. You run your fingers up and down his spine, lingering on his head for some hair play each time you meet it.

“What the actual fuck”, he murmurs.

“Liked it?”

“I’m dead. What the fuck.”

You snicker, sighing happily afterwards.

It takes the two of you a few minutes of silence to really come down. Hoseok keeps lying on top of you, stealing some of your body heat as his cock slowly softens inside you. He’s got you so messy. It is seeping out of you even with his cock inside. You wanted to get up and clean, but he just told you to relax and that he will clean the sheets later.

It was a lull of his words before he grew silent again.

You like the silence. It’s relaxing and helps your brain to reboot. You need that because he really fucked you dumb.

Hoseok lifts his head when his mood lights switch to pink. Silence. His eyes race between yours. He is propped on his elbows, keeping your head caged in safely.

“What?” you ask him.

“Nothing just…” he kisses your lips. It is a sweet kiss. The kind of kiss a lover gives his precious counterpart. It leaves flutters in your chest once he lifts his head again.

Silence.

Eyes race between each other.

The light switches back to red.

He runs the back of his hand down your cheek.

“You’re so beautiful”, he whispers, making your heart flutter.

“You’re beautiful too, Hobi”, you breathe, reaching up to caress his cheek.

His eyes lower just a little bit, a shy smile curls his lips.

“Shit ___, you’ve got me feeling romantic. What have you done to me?” he says and snickers.

“Is that bad?” you ask.

“No, it’s just”, he shudders, “giving me the shivers. Mhm fuck”, he says and nuzzles his face into your neck as he lets out a cute sound. He smooches you just once before the nuzzling continues.

You giggle, wrapping your arms around him in a hug.

“You’re still staying the night, yeah?”

“Of course. Why shouldn’t I?”

“The storm stopped.”

“Right. I didn’t even notice”, you say and giggle when he tickles your ear with his breath.

He chuckles softly, giving you a tender kiss on your ear.

“Fuck, you really did it to me”, he whispers with a smile on his lips and his nose nuzzling into the side of your head.

“The feeling’s mutual, Hobi”, you snicker, ruffling his hair.

“Mhm good, yeah that’s good”, Hoseok says and pulls you closer, “so like, why did it take us years to do that?”

“Our lives have been busy, haven’t they? I feel like it’s only slowly been beginning to calm down.”

“Yeah, right. Shit”, he giggles again, “I’m giddy like a little boy. You’re amazing.”

“You’re cute, Hobi”, you whisper fondly.

It isn’t necessary to mention that Hoseok will be the one to break the news to Yoongi the next day. Hoseok will drive you to class after shared breakfast and he will pick you up again, he will drive you to the estate and then greet Yoongi with a “she just changed my life.” To which Yoongi lets a small smile escape followed by a kiss to your cheek and a teasing “I thought you wanted to change all our lives, Hoba. What happened?”

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justwinginglife · 10 months ago

Text

What Lies After?

Y'all, spoilers- it's a depressing one and I'm so sorry in advance. I promise I'll post something more wholesome later.

You're dying.

You're dying and Soshiro can't do a damn thing about it.

Amidst the chaos of people pulling each other from the rubble, medics running to and fro, and other soldiers groaning in pain as they writhe in the dirt waiting to see if death or the medics will claim them first, he can still hear the situation you're facing a couple feet away from him (in fact, it's the only thing he can hear at this point). You're never far away from him, he would never allow it. He doesn't know what it's like to not be by your side. But he can't reach you. He's badly injured himself and though he gave crawling a good, hard attempt, his bruised, bleeding organs won't allow him to get any closer to you though he's already pleaded and begged them to. He'd plead to anyone who'd hear him, who'd save you. The doctors, the gods, the devil himself.

The sound of the defibrillator thumping at your lifeless body is deafening to him. He can hear his own heartbeat vying for attention as it thunders in his ears and he wishes it would shut up and let him join you.

He wipes blood from his eyes, as it's started to drip down his forehead, he's desperate to see you better. Even if the color has drained from your face he still thinks you're the most beautiful thing ever placed on this Earth. His weak eyes widen slightly, as much as they have the energy to, as he sees the doctors starting to pull away from you. He sees the resigned looks on their faces, though muddled by his own tears, and he thinks he might just choke on his own lungs when he finally brings himself to look at the unforgiving, unbudging line of what was your heartbeat flattened against the cold screen of the monitor.

He stops looking at you. You're not there anymore. He's got nothing left to look at, nothing left to look forward to.

He lays down flat again, pressing his back up against the dirt, and peering at the sky while he still can, his eyelids getting heavier with each aching breath. I'll be there soon, love, wait for me.

He thinks about your laugh. How you'd probably say something about how we shouldn't waste the chance to enjoy such a bright blue sky. How we have to seize the day. And then you'd seize his hand and take off running, laughing and laughing, the way you always do. The way you always did.

Why was the sky so damn blue today?? How dare it be a perfect, clear day when nothing about this day was perfect or clear?

You would've loved today. If you weren't... gone.

He'd always make fun of people who used euphemisms. Just be honest, and say they're dead if they're dead. None of this "kicked the bucket" or "gone to a better place" bullshit. They're dead. But he can't bring himself to think that about you. He settles on "gone to a better place." Darling, save me a spot up there, won't you?

He lifts his fingers weakly and waves at the sky and what is presumably heaven.

He's never thought about religion before, but now every torn, exhausted fiber of his being hopes to every god out there that there is a heaven and that you're waiting impatiently at the door for him, tapping your foot and rolling your eyes but still grinning nonetheless. "Welcome home, Soshiro." You'd say with open arms.

"He's crashing."

He wonders if God will let the two of you have that house that you'd always dreamed of. He's sure God could spare a house or two for the love of his life especially when you're such an angel. He's made up his mind that God definitely wouldn't be able to resist a cutie like you if you asked nicely.

"Get him under control now, I'm not losing another one, damnit!!"

He wonders if you're an angel now. You always did believe in angels. You always believed in everything good and pure and wonderful like the saint you were. He smiles at the thought of you with a little glowing halo above your head and a white flowing gown. He'd kill to see you again. He'd die to see you again.

"Vice Captain, don't you quit on us!"

He wants to quit. He will. He'll do it. He doesn't know who said that but it wasn't you so he doesn't much care. He misses you so much. He misses you. What he'd give to hold you again, to smell your hair- you thought he wouldn't noticed that you'd changed your shampoo recently but he did. He never got to tell you he liked the new shampoo. He never got to tell you a lot of things. His trembling fingers move towards his pocket where he knows the ring is sitting snug against his leg but he stops himself. He doesn't want to touch it. He can't take it, it might kill him if he thinks about whatever future you might've had together. It might kill him. He touches it.

Everything goes white. Your face is coming into view now. He can almost see you fully, your hair bouncing in the wind, your sparkling eyes gleaming at him, your full lips waiting to be reunited with his. Just a little longer baby, I'm coming.

"We've got a pulse! He's stabilizing. He's going to make it!"

No.

Fuck.

#kaiju no. 8 #soshiro hoshina #soshiro hoshina x reader #oneshot #anime #hoshina #depressing shit #han's library

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chronicallyonline101 · 3 months ago

Note

PLS I NEED A RIZ FULL DETAILED BACKSTORY 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

To tell the truth, i WAS going to say no ONLY CUZ Risotto's backstory will eventually be in my fic BUTTTT i realised his BG is in chapter 22, and thats... a long while away... SO i'm being nice and i'm gonna give you a sneak peek of chpt 22 :3 - WARNING THIS IS A FIRST DRAFT, so it has a lot of mistakes in it; it'll probably be different once it's put in DK

TW: Graphic depictions of violence, Character death, References to Self-harm, Intrusive Thoughts, Stalking.

Until it Sleeps:

Moonlight splays in through an open window. It brings with it rays of silence. Eyelids, heavy as leather, fall to a close, and envelop with them a warm cloud of comfort. But the soft glow of the night did little to soothe the cry of a child, torn fresh from the womb; swaddled in blankets, with the warming love of a mother and father. Yet that warmth would soon turn sour - the sky had been a dark crimson the night he was born.

Continued under the cut!

When a baby opens their eyes for the first time, they should see smiles and kisses. What he saw; stares of horror and gasps of upset, were the opposite of that. For when he had pried his eyelids apart for the first time, he revealed to his family the eyes of Baphomet; blood red, enveloped in a black cloak. He appeared to them a bad omen, a punishment for whatever sins they'd committed. They held no love for their problem child, and so, begged anyone they knew to rid themselves of him:

Despite being so young, Risotto could remember those first few years well. His name hadn't been Risotto Nero back then.

No amount of tossing or turning could ease the pressure in his head, where fatigued thoughts linger; rocky amongst a mind that crashed and rolled like the ocean during a mid-summer storm. He grew up obedient, polite, yet sleepless; his Aunt and Uncle were kind enough, but he feared their rejection more than anything. If his parents could throw him out without so much of a glance, what was stopping them?

As if he were on probation, he spent all his time offering the world a façade of himself. Eleven years he spent inside this shell, hidden inside himself - nobody knew who he truly was, nobody, aside from ---

"What are you thinking about?"

His cousin. His hair was the same white as that of an angels wings, and his eyes the same holy gold that lined the gates of Heaven. His cousin opposed everything he stood for, and yet younger than him by a year, lacked the awareness that adults held - his cousin wasn't afraid of him.

"My parents," He had mumbled, almost ashamed at having been caught so lost in his own thoughts. His gaze turned to look at the houses lining the streets they walked - Sicily was pretty during this time of the year, he had always appreciated the greenery in which the warm weather brought with, but his mind was elsewhere; his parents lived on this street. Just around the corner from where he was staying with his relatives.

Distracted, he didn't see the confused, disgruntled grimace that settled across his cousins face. "Why?"

He had asked. As far as he was aware, there was no need for the older boy to worry over people who would never bother involve themselves in his life. He didn't understand the pain his cousin felt.

Risotto remained quiet as the two passed the aforementioned abode. He kept his silence as the two rounded the corner, and when his cousin realised that he had nothing to say on the matter, changed the subject:

"I found my dad's record collection yesterday, after school," An evil, childish giggle passed his lips. His cousins words caught his curiosity: "Do you want to look at them with me?"

In the doorway of his relatives house, Risotto came to a halt. His silver brow furrowed, unsure.

"Are we allowed to do that?" He murmured. He didn't want to step out of line - those records belonged to his Uncle, he had no right to snoop around where he didn't belong. He'd never be able to forgive himself if he broke one, even accidentally; it would solidify his status as a bad omen to the family.

His cousin could only laugh at his hesitance, grabbing him by the sleeve so that he could forcibly drag him inside the house. "Of course it's allowed, if he wanted to hide them from us he would have put them somewhere other than his office!"

At the time, Risotto had wanted to argue against his cousins insistence; mentally, he had countered with the fact that the two probably shouldn't have been in his Uncle's office altogether. However, looking back on it, he was glad he had let his cousin take charge - it was that day, the cage he had built around himself slowly began to unlock.

The feel of thin plastic between his soft fingertips; scarlet and black, a name ringing through his head. It was so familiar, and yet, this had been the first time he had ever heard of the band. His eyes traced over the album, decorated as if it had been covered in blood, hardly appropriate for an eleven year old to be looking at - while he and his cousin had been busy moseying about the room, they'd hardly taken note of a third person slipping into the room.

"Kill 'Em All," The voice of his Uncle called out; Risotto near jumped out of his skin at the intrusion, scampering to put the album back in its place on the shelf. A grin graced the lips of his Uncle, eyes crinkling upward in joy. "It's Metallica's first album, you've got a good taste."

Upset that he had been caught where he shouldn't be, Risotto hardly registered his Uncle's amusement. He found his head tipping down to the floor in shame, apologies spewing from his mouth: "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, this won't happen again---"

But his apologies were cut off by his Uncle's laughter. He brushed off Risotto's concern, instead, moving to grab at the album from the shelf.

"If you two wanted to listen to music, you could have just told me. No need to sneak around like little criminals!" He moved over to ruffle the white hair of his son; envy tugged at Risotto's heart at the sight, but was quickly settled when his Uncle played the music for them - he treated Risotto with kindness, he always did. But, this time it felt different.

Risotto had been disobedient - a menial crime, sure, but his parents would have taken dire offense to this kind of behaviour. All of a sudden, it was as if the crimson night had cleared; welcoming a warm sky, his turmoil soothed over and he found himself settling amongst the family of his Aunt and Uncle. They regarded him as if he were their own child, and he looked to them like a mother and a father.

No longer fearful for how he was perceived; he took an acute interest in music. Metallica was his favourite, he liked the guitar. On his twelfth birthday, he was gifted a small, acoustic guitar. His Aunt had saved up for him to have a years worth of lessons for it. Though it didn't sound the same as the loud, electric ones they used in all the songs he listened to - and as he learnt how to play, his cousin grew interested. The next year, he asked his parents for a drum set, and their small, two man band had began.

As strange as it was, Risotto truly felt as if that was where he belonged; in his Uncle's garage, delicately strumming the strings of his tattered guitar while his cousin bashed the soft paper of a drumkit. Though, as sweet as it was, it didn't please everyone:

In the kitchen of their shared home, Risotto's Aunt - a delicate woman, who shared the long white hair of his cousin - held a hand to her forehead. "Sweetheart,"

She uttered, tone hushed. Her husband looked to her curiously, and a desperate expression befell her. "Could you please tell them to do something else?" The sound of bashing and strumming and horrid singing echoed in the background, painkillers could no longer subdue her headache. "Anything else?"

Risotto's Uncle remained still, his gaze flickering between his wife and the door that would lead him to the garage. He simpered bashfully: "Oh, but they are having fun! The Summer will be over soon, and they won't have the time to play their little band---"

"---They've been playing for months," She pinched at her temple; her tone was growing sharp, she never usually took this tone. "Why can't they go to the arcade or something like normal kids."

"Hey, hey, let's not start that right now." Her husband grumbled, he didn't like insinuating that the two were anything other than ordinary - just because they were passionate about something didn't make them different. His brows eased to that of pity. He turned toward the garage door. "I'll tell them to do something else."

She didn't thank him as he left the room, only turning away sourly. She, on the other hand, didn't like it when her husband shut her down like that - the two couldn't avoid these problems forever. At this point, Risotto was fourteen, and their son thirteen. She knew they were both being bullied at school, and teenagers could be harsh; they lived in a world of their own creation, it wasn't healthy.

The sound of cymbals clashing grew louder and louder as their Uncle entered the room - he held his hands to his ears, unappreciative that his son had taken to doing what he liked to call a 'metal solo', where he banged his drumsticks against the cymbals repeatedly until he felt satisfied with how 'metal' it sounded.

"Hey you two..." He spoke up, but his words went ignored. The cymbal solo ended, but was quickly replaced by the rhythm of drums and guitar. The Uncle stepped further into the room, presenting himself in front of the two; he caught his sons gaze first, and when the sound of drumming came to a halt, Risotto quickly looked up - confused. "Hey, your mother has a headache, so I was thinking maybe you two could go play outside?"

Though reasonable, his words weren't received well. Pursing his lips, Risotto looked to his Cousin. The two shared a brief, silent glance, before turning to the Uncle once again.

"We need to practice," Was their reasoning, and the two felt just in this reason; how were they supposed to become famous if they stopped practicing every time someone got a headache? James Hetfield didn't stop for anyone, and neither would Risotto.

Huffing in frustration, his Uncle turned around. His gaze flittered about the room, only briefly, before landing on a small football - he quickly plucked it from the ground, bringing it to the two with a soft smile. "Why don't you play with this? It'd be nice to see you both in the sun, for once."

"But we're enjoying ourselves in here," His cousin pouted, his splintered drumsticks hovering over his kit in anticipation. "Can't mama go somewhere else?"

The two really were stubborn; refusing to leave despite how much his Uncle would plead. He knew his wife would tell him off for feeding into their bad habits; but then, he knew she would also be upset if he let them continue playing their instruments. So, rifling his hand through his pocket, he pulled out a few wads of lira - waving them in the direction of the two boys, their heads perked up immediately.

"If you play ball, you can have this."

In a matter of seconds, the instruments were discarded - tossed, delicately, to the side in favour of crowding around the Uncle. He raised his hands high in the air, frowning at the two indefinitely. Their expressions shifted to something akin to confusion, and so, he pointed toward the door to the kitchen: "You have to play outside for at least an hour before you get this."

Risotto and his Cousin shared a sour glance; it was hardly a fair deal, alas, the two wanted that money. Risotto thought that it could help them with their band - maybe they could buy some blank cassettes and record over them with their own music. It would bring them just that little bit closer to their dream. His cousin, on the other hand, thought of sweet shops and tat stores; Sicily was known for its markets, he couldn't wait to browse each stall and buy whatever he wanted!

So, despite their glares and grumbling, Risotto took the red ball from his Uncle. He and his cousin made their way out of the garage, greeting their now smiling Aunt as they crossed the threshold of their kitchen.

That day, despite the horror Risotto held in his heart, had been warm. Sun-dried leaves rattled across the pavement in a swift swoop, carried along by a gentle breeze that did little to dampen the heat radiated by the midday peak. And though most would have appraised it has a perfect day, it certainly didn't feel like that for Risotto.

Flinching, he brought a hand up to shield his delicate eyes from the sun - they were sensitive to light, a fact that had only driven his mother and father deeper in their belief that he was a sinful night-breed. He never liked being out much; Why torment himself with the outside world when he enjoyed sitting indoors with the lights dim?

Nonetheless, determined to pry lira from his Uncle's hands, he tossed the ball to the ground. Kicking it pathetically; it rolled across the lawn for a few short seconds, but was eventually brought to a halt by his Cousin, who planted his foot atop of the ball securely.

"Can we play Palla Priogioniera?" He plead, Risotto's brow could only furrow at the request.

"There's only two of us," He'd been hoping they'd play something simple, like kicking the ball back and forth or maybe tossing it in the air. Palla Priogioniera was a complex game, usually requiring a two small groups of people, rather than just the two that were there. Similar to dodgeball, the two would stand on either side and lob the ball at each other until one team ran out of players.

Despite Risotto's dismisal, his Cousin was certain that they could play; he bent down to pick the ball up, spinning it between his fingers playfully. "We can make it work!"

He threatened to toss it toward Risotto a few times, laughing at the short flinches it wrought from the older boy.

"I don't think we can." He grumbled. He appreciated the eagerness his cousin upheld, but still, there were only two of them - there was no possible way they could play that game.

While mulling over his own thoughts, Risotto hardly heard his Cousin yelp out a playful: "Look!" And he didn't take note of the ball that flew toward his face - had he known it was coming for him, he'd of dove to the ground to evade it's torment. To no avail, it slapped him square in the face.

When he fell backward, he winced, hardly registering the ball, which rolled off elsewhere; something warm trickled down his chin, and in horror, he brought his wrist up to wipe at the underside of his nose - streaks of red coated his sleeve. The action had dazed him, his vision blurred, and he found himself gripping at his skull in pain.

A startled gasp left his cousins throat. Darting toward Risotto, the younger boy trembled in panic:

"Sorry, I'm so sorry! I forgot you bleed," He reached out to try and help the older boy up, but his kind actions were brushed aside by Risotto, who grunted in pain. "Please don't tell mama and---"

"Just go get the ball." It took him a few moments, but eventually, Risotto levelled himself. As if he didn't have enough on his plate, as if his childhood hadn't already been wrenching enough - Risotto suffered from haemophilia - he hadn't enough iron in his body to thicken his blood; it ran thin like water, and it caused him to bleed excessively.

Looking back on it, Risotto had missed that time in his life, where his only concerns where whether his band would make it big or if he'd start bleeding at inconvenient times. It was frustrating, but it was simple, and that is why he had hated how he had treated his Cousin back then:

He knew his Cousin had meant no harm; he was only playing around, but he had hurt Risotto and in turn the older boy had neglected to throw caution in the water.

Get the ball.

He had ordered. His Cousin had obeyed: golden gaze flickering upward to scan the street - the ball had rolled away from their lawn, sitting narrowly on the road, just near where the street coiled around a corner.

Wanting to please Risotto, the younger of the two teetered out to the pavement - he spared both sides of the road a brief glance, before running out to pluck it from the ground. He had intended to quickly make his way back onto the lawn, but upon staring at the dull surface of the ball, he caught a glimpse of little specks of red; an ode to how he had hurt his older Cousin.

Turning to look at Risotto - who had since gotten to his feet and was pinching his nose to stop it from bleeding, he swallowed thickly: "We can play whatever you want to play."

He had hoped it would appease Risotto, and at the time, it had: Risotto wished more than anything that he had just agreed to play Palla Priogioniera with his Cousin. He had been such a ball of energy; even if there had only been two of them, he was sure his Cousin would have made up something fun.

But good things could never flourish, not on this sick planet;

"I want to play my guitar." Is what he had wanted to say. It's what he should have been able to say; but instead, with the sound of a blaring horn and tires screeching against asphalt - a panicked: "Get out of the road!" Left his throat, torn with fear while he lurched forward, hands splayed open as if it would offer him some kind of solace.

There was nothing he could recognise more than the snap of bones; the spray of a crimson ichor across black tarmac. Something inside him squirmed, writhing beneath his skin at the sight - it urged him forward, despite the tears that pricked at his eyes, despite the man who had since rolled down his window to slur out drunken curse words, despite how much his logical mind wanted to freeze and cry, he ran into the road; kneeling down before the large vehicle and clawing at his Cousin.

Twice more, the sound of a car horn shot through the air; the man in the drivers seat was yelling something, but Risotto had hardly registered it - his Cousins wrist was limp in his own grip, mangled in multiple directions and stained a dark red.

The commotion the driver had decided to bring to their small, typically quiet street, alerted Risotto's Aunt that something had gone wrong; her startled shriek clearly scared the driver, for in just a matter of seconds he had reversed his car away from the two boys and swerved from the scene - desperate not to get caught.

Only a year later, his Aunt and Uncle separated; it wasn't a divorce, they had told him, but they needed space from each other - his Uncle moved inland, while Risotto remained with his Aunt in Sicily.

The sight of his Cousin splayed out across concrete, a body contorted against in such a foul, inhuman way, was something Risotto would never be able to shake from his mind. They tried to hide the cadaver from him when the paramedics came to take it away, but he had already seen far too much, and the blood that coated his hands and arms served only to make his skin crawl in discomfort. It itched. Writhed; like something was living beneath it. It was all too much for him to handle, tears flowed from his eyes freely.

Thing's could only spiral down from there. Though she tried to hold him in a kind regard; he wasn't her son. In the soft light of the sun, his silver hair reflected white, and for a few moments she could pretend her child was still with her - but then, Risotto would look to her with eyes a dark maroon and she would be reminded of the thing she invited into her home.

Maybe his mother had been right. Maybe he was a bad omen. His misfortune took her child, the day his Cousin died, he was robbed of his life - he could have been human, he could have been loved; but he was less than that now.

The older he got, the less he tried to deny the title his family had inflicted upon him. His youth was spent in isolation - rumours spread quickly, nobody wanted to spend time with the boy who killed his own Cousin. Nobody wanted to befriend someone as socially inept as himself; not even his Aunt could look him in the eye. He quickly began to resent the people around him - his Aunt, his classmates, every school teacher that ignored his clear suffering, any counsellor who brushed his upset aside - labelling him as shy, meek, socially anxious; he was ill, he needed help, he needed someone to look him in the eye and tell him to get a hold of himself before he spiralled into something he'd resent - but no one ever did that. Nobody came to his rescue.

He could still remember the first time he had ever held a blade; it had been smooth and sharp against his supple skin, leaking blood that pricked and pooled across his arms. And even after all this time, he could never wash away those lacerations; pale scars, there to forever remind him of a time in which he was at his lowest.

He had grown quite a lot since his younger years; stretching taller than most, though at this point his frame had been lithe. He hardly took care of himself, forgetting to eat properly most days. His silver hair descended past his shoulders, but it wasn't pretty; greasy and unbrushed, and dressed in all black, he looked like someone to avoid. The people who had any sense to them did avoid him, only foolish people full of themselves had any incentive to mess with him; and it just so happened, the wrong person did exactly that.

He liked to collect different kinds of blades.

It started small: Craft knives, swiped from his schools art class, and small kitchen utensils, until eventually he was loitering at markets after hours to buy decorative switchblades - he carried them with him everywhere, though, he had never quite been sure why, not until he was seventeen years old.

It was a day like no other, in that the finest details had been lost to time; but if there was one thing he could remember better than anything else, it was the face of that wretched man. The man who had taken the life of his Cousin - loitering near a booze shop, no less. The anger Risotto felt had been visceral; he was sure that man had gone to jail, to see him stood here not even three years later chatting with friends, with no hint of regret or upset for what he had done, it sent pure rage through Risotto's veins - red, hot fury, burning deep in his mind. It stopped him from thinking straight; his knife weighed heavy in his pocket, and before he could even think about what he was doing, he had it's handle clutched tightly in his grip.

Yet, he'd had more restraint that day.

He'd held back. He wasn't a murderer, not like that man.

But he just couldn't let the thought go. The thought that a singular man had brought so much suffering to his life; in one short minute, this man had ruined him. Risotto would never be the same, no matter how hard he tried, the weight of his melancholy would never lift from his shoulders - he knew he would never be happy, not until he had his hands wrapped around that mans throat, squeezing out every last ounce of justice from his body.

He would write things down in a journal, things that he hoped would never grace the light of day; excerpts detailing all the different ways he would kill that man, how sick he felt, how much he wanted to hurt himself and how often he wanted to hurt others.

His thoughts were sudden and intrusive. He knew they were wrong, he knew it was wrong to feel this way, but he couldn't help it.

Every waking moment he spent thinking of how horrible his own life was, when he had never done anything wrong. Why was it that someone so evil could prosper?

Urged by the uncontrollable itching beneath his skin, he'd find himself walking the streets late at night, bathed in shadows where no one could see him. In pursuit of this man, Risotto had discovered that he had a family - a wife, who he'd known since before the incident, and a two year old daughter, who he'd had since getting out of jail. He'd stopped drinking. Had a job, friends, he was a good person - this should have discouraged Risotto, it should have helped him realise that maybe people can change, however, it only fuelled the fire burning in his heart.

It wasn't fair that he could move on. It wasn't fair that after all this time, Risotto still suffered from the loss of his Cousin, and yet this man could be happy, he could have a family, he could pretend nothing had happened.

Risotto had always held pride in his self restraint, but that night, something inside him snapped. His frayed ends of insanity finally burnt up.

On the Eighth of August, Nineteen Ninety-One, Risotto Nero took his first kill; he stabbed that man thirty seven times. Police statements described his body as 'maimed', the mortician report claimed that it was likely he had been tortured before death. Many criticised his work; they called him careless, he'd been caught breaking into his house on video and both the mans wife and neighbours knew something had happened, but Risotto had never tried to be careful.

When his Aunt's house was searched, they found his knives, and they found his journal - Risotto remained silent during his court hearings, he had nothing to say on the matter. He had killed that man, what was the use in lying?

They charged him with first degree murder. Murder with the intent to kill - though, Risotto would disagree. He hadn't intended for anything to happen that night. He had just lost grips with himself. What had happened next, though, Risotto wasn't quite sure whether it was a blessing or a curse:

Passione had found him.

He spent a few months in jail, only to find that a man by the name of Polpo had paid off a large sum of money to have him removed - bribing his judge to offer him freedom, Risotto was let out on the condition that he follow Passione's orders blindly. Polpo displayed himself as someone Saintly, a saviour, who Risotto owed his all to, and at first, Risotto had followed that sentiment willingly; with no purpose, he had allowed Polpo to pull wool over his eyes. Why shouldn't he have?

Polpo had trained Risotto - by the time he was twenty one, he had bulked up from the scrawny, ratty thing he had once been. He was granted a stand; and suddenly, his affection toward all things metal and sharp made sense. Unconventional as most stands went, it lived inside him, and provided a strange explanation for how often he would feel his skin crawling. And after all that, when he was finally ready, he was granted a team:

La Squadra Di Execuzioni was a team built on trust. Risotto owed Polpo his life, but the dedication he held to Passione wasn't nearly as thick as a loyalty he had to his team. They gave him purpose, meaning, authority - he even fell in love, things he had never experienced before suddenly coming to fruition. So when things hit the fan, when his team had finally fought back against the mistreatment they received;

With three dead,

Two bedridden,

Three severely injured,

And one so depressed he'd refused to do anything but sit in bed and stare at his laptop.

It only made sense that Risotto sought revenge. He had been turned to a weapon, and now he would ensure that those who tormented him and his team knew no peace; even if he failed, he would ensure that his name would never be forgotten. Whispered betwixt shadows, people would shudder when they heard of the Risotto Nero, and all the things he was capable of.

"Sardinia,"

It was a name settled at the very tip of his tongue, yet, uttering it aloud brought bile to the back of his mouth. He stood broadly, eyeing one of his teammates from the corner of their new hideout - the rugged little apartment hardly held the entire team, but it was the safest place they could lay low, just until this entire thing blew over.

He teetered closer to his teammate, brow furrowed. "That is where they are?"

Slowly, as if a weight was pressing down on him, Ghiaccio lifted his head to look at his leader. A choked sound left his throat, courtesy of the blood-soaked bandages he had wrapped around his throat. "Y..es,"

He croaked, his voice hoarse. Since sustaining his injury, he had been struggling to talk; it was horrid, but, he was thankful he had left that fight mostly intact. He could have returned to his team looking like Prosciutto, or worse, Illuso. Taking a few moments to cough, Ghiaccio grumbled unsurely:

"Melone c...claims they suddenly shifted their direction once they made it to--" He coughed, "Venezia, but," A short, uneasy grimace settled across his face. "We haven't been on best terms since... well," He paused for a moment, biting his bottom lip. "He think's she's still alive. Apparently, while following their team, Babyface has been picking up on traces of her DNA, but---"

"---That's enough,"

The room was enveloped by a blanket of silence. Risotto's lip quivered, he had wanted to say something on the matter, but found himself at a loss for words. He had been evading that topic like some kind of plague; his grief was still fresh, yet, he had no time to be thinking of anything other than getting what he needed.

Turning away from Ghiaccio, Risotto stormed toward the door to their hiding place. "I'm going to Sardinia. If I do not return, then you leave."

He turned to look over his shoulder, shooting Ghiaccio a stern, authorative glare. "All of you. You will leave Italy; maybe even Europe, if you have to---"

"---You're going alone?" Ghiaccio seemed a little taken aback at the suggestion. Bucciarati's team had decimated every single member of their team, even some of the most agile and powerful members like Prosciutto had been near killed. But, Risotto held no regard for the dangers his self-inflicted mission held.

"Yes," He huffed, turning back around to grab at the door which would take him outside. He heard a sound leave Ghiaccio, an attempt to argue back; but his hoarse voice wouldn't let him. Risotto huffed. "Don't try to dissuade me. This is something I must do - even if I took someone, the rest of you are far too injured to do anything." He glanced over his shoulder once more, the crimson of his eyes near glowing amongst the dark of their hideout. "It will take me a day to get there, and a day to return, at the very least. If I do not return by the end of this week, then it's safe to assume I never will."

Though he was avoiding saying the words, Ghiaccio knew all too well what Risotto was suggesting. He swallowed thickly, nodding his head, and it was with that, Risotto stormed out of the house. With nothing on him but a couple thousand lira and a burning desire for revenge, Risotto would travel to Sardinia.

It's what he should have done in the first place.

---

HIHI SO THERE IT IS i think this is the start to chapter 22 of my fic, BUT ITS STILL A DRAFT - i write scenes as they come to me, and often they change quite a bit when they actually get put into the fic SOOO chapter 22 of DK could very well start differently, and YOU NEVER KNOW this could get pushed or pulled to be either earlier or later... also i figured out how to make text small arent I cool?

i didnt know whether i wanted the title to be 'Enter Sandman' or 'Until It Sleeps' cuz while Enter Sandman is a GREAT song that really suits Risotto, it's Metallica's most popular and i fear there are other songs that are underappreciated SO i decided on Until It Sleeps, it's one of my favs and i think it suits Risotto :3

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esmedelacroix · 1 year ago

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Coffee Shop Love: Sweet Tooth

synopsis ! He's as stern and cold as the snow falling from the sky blanketing the bustling streets of Nueva York, Miguel O'Hara stumbles upon a hidden gem of a coffee shop just around the corner from Alchemax. Only problem is the annoying-as-shit charming barista.

cw ! no use of y/n, not proofread, kinky, food play, oral f!receiving, cum play, cum eating, fingering f!receiving, sweet fluffy aftercare

Coffee Shop Love Masterlist | Miguel O'Hara Masterlist

You heard your front door open and close followed by the clatter of Miguel's car keys hitting the ceramic bowl at the entrance of your apartment. "I got your whipped cream you little psycho," he joked, placing the grocery bag on your kitchen table.

"Thank you, hon'," you whispered, sweetly as you got on your tippy toes to kiss him on the cheek.

Just an hour earlier you were on the verge of tears because you had no whipped cream for the gingerbread house you were making and, "everything would be completely ruined," You had told Miguel that it wasn't Christmas Eve if you didn't have a meltdown anyway.

You and Miguel had been together for weeks now. All you could say about being with him was that it was like being happy every day. There was not a single day where you had nothing to look forward to because you knew he'd either come to the shop or sleep over if you begged him enough. And the sex? Well, it was mind-blowing. You thought Miguel would be more of a vanilla guy in bed but you were poorly mistaken.

You now know to never judge someone's sex life by their age. Sex with Miguel had you wondering if you had ever truly orgasmed before. When you did it with him it felt different from any other guy. When he made you cum it felt like you were in a whole new universe on top of the world. He was anything but vanilla and he took note of things you liked.

"You like that?" he grunted in your ear after he had spanked your bare ass as you bounced on him. You nodded your head frantically, begging him to do it again.

As the night went by you both decided to get in bed a little early to give Santa some time to drop your gifts off. You got into your bed and waited for Miguel to come back from the kitchen. He soon walked into the room hiding something behind his back. You sat up trying to get a better look at what he was up to. "What's behind your back, Miguel? Are you going to hit me with another pillow, 'cause if so I'm so prepared this time," you started before Miguel put a finger to your lips.

"You must be a witch of some sort," Miguel whispered. Your face contorted in confusion.

"I can't seem to stop craving sweets because of you, I think I may like them more than you do now," he muttered, bringing his mouth closer to your ears. His warm breath tickled the sensitive part behind your ear.

"So what are you gonna do about those cravings?" you whispered in a low tone. You finally understood what Miguel was getting at when you caught a glimpse of the whipped cream he held in his hand.

Miguel put some whipped cream in his mouth and pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was wet and messy, as your tongues swirled, you could taste the sweet cream.

His warm hands wandered under your shirt groping your tits, his calloused fingers circling one of your hard nipples. You moaned into the kiss, pulling at his wavy locks. With a swift motion, he takes off your shirt. To his pleasant surprise, you were wearing absolutely nothing underneath.

"Lay down baby," he commanded shaking the whipped cream bottle.

You lay yourself down on the bed, parting your legs a bit leaving your naked body on display for him to feast on with his eyes. Miguel licked his lip at the alluring sight before putting some whipped cream on your taut nipples.

With a grin, he slowly licked the whipped cream off of your tits causing you to shudder and giggle at the sudden feeling of his tongue on your skin. As his tongue swirled around your nipples you could feel your aching cunt throb. You began to rub your thighs together unconsciously to give yourself some friction.

He brought his lips back to yours, and you could still taste the sweet whipped cream on his tongue as he kissed you with more passion than he ever had. He hadn't even touched you yet but you were already in a haze.

He put some whipped cream in a trail from your sternum to your abdomen. He placed himself between your legs and licked and slurped, stopping at your sopping-wet cunt. He took a moment to savor the flavor.

Your hands gripped the sheets tightly in anticipation of his next move. You whimpered and whined for him to continue. "Please Miguel—need you—p-please touch me," you whined, as you grabbed him by his curly hair and practically shoved his face into your cunt.

"So needy baby," Miguel moaned into your pussy as he began his assault on your clit. The sensation of his moans vibrating from your cunt right to the tension building up in your stomach.

You clamped your eyes shut as you felt tears threaten to spill as you finally got some relief. You moaned loudly as he sucked on your sensitive bud. You felt his hot wet tongue lick up and down your slit, before he plunged it into your tight aching hole. Refocusing his attention on your clit, he pushed one of his thick digits into your cunt.

Your moans only became higher-pitched and louder as he fed a second finger into your cunt. "You like that baby?" he asked, as he moved his fingers in and out of cunt at an ungodly pace. His tongue collected all the sweet slick dripping out of you. All that could be heard were your desperate moans, his groans muffled by your cunt, and the squelching sound of dripping cunt. He humped the bed desperately at the same pace looking for any type of release.

You nodded your head frantically in response to his inquiry and gripped his hair even harder. "I love it Miguel—s'close," you whined, as you babbled nonsense feeling the tension in your stomach explode like a thousand fireworks on the 4th of July. Moaning his name loudly, your thighs shook rapidly as you squirted all over his face.

When Miguel lifted his head from your cunt after cleaning all the juices of your thighs with his tongue. Miguel was completely pussy drunk and drenched in your slick. "God that was so hot baby," he sighed as he gave you a quick kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue as well as the faint taste of whipped cream.

As Miguel lay against the headboard you settled between his legs hoping to return the favor but when you pulled his boxers down, all she saw was his sticky cum coating the inside of his underwear and his thigh. "You came your pants?" you giggled, with your eyebrow quirked up at him.

"Stop teasing amor[love], it's embarrassing," he pouted, as his cheeks heated up and the pink crept at the side of his cheekbones. How did I cum in my pants like a little teenage horndog?

"It's okay hon', I'll clean you up," you cooed looking straight into his eyes as you licked him clean and savored the salty taste of his load.

You straddle Miguel sitting in his lap, and you crash your lips onto his. He holds you by the hips and gropes your ass as you kissed. Your tongues engaged in a heated dance as he lifted you and walked over to the bathroom. You had your legs wrapped around his waist and fingers raked through his soft sweat-drenched hair. He sat you down on the toilet seat and started the shower.

The steam enveloped the bathroom as the scent of your Vanilla body wash floated through the bathroom. You got in the shower with Miguel. He helped you wash your hair and wrapped it up in a towel. He treated you like you were as fragile as authentic China. You helped him wash his hair as well. He wrapped his arms around you from behind before helping you get your back. You both got out afterward and lotioned up before slipping into your pajamas. You both opted for the matching holiday set you bought at the store.

Miguel had even gone so far as to put your hair oil in, detangle, and put it into two French braids before you went to sleep. "I had no idea you could do hair so well," you exclaimed, very happy with the outcome smiling at him through the mirror.

"Well you remember my late daughter I told you about, I used to braid her hair for her before bed and for her soccer games," he explained, smiling at the memories that resurfaced.

"I would've loved to meet her Miguel," you murmured, as you took his hand and placed a kiss into it.

"She would've loved you even more," he reassured, as he urged you to get comfy in bed while he made her a cup of tea.

He walked into the bedroom with a nice hot mug of earl grey tea. You could smell it when he brought it over to you. You had over 50 different teas in your house but he still knew exactly which one to bring you. "Thank you hon', you know me so well you even put some honey in here!" you praised.

"I've never met a coffee shop owner that hates coffee but it's fine because I make the best tea," he teases.

You roll your eyes playfully as Miguel rubs his hand along your thigh listening to you babble on about whatever drama was happening in the shop while occasionally kissing your hand.

When you were all done you slowly felt yourself fall asleep in his warm embrace. It was the merriest of Christmas nights you had ever had.

a/n ! thanks so much for reading this series ! I had so much fun writing and I am so thankful for your support . I hope you enjoyed it, and if you have any requests, they are always open, let me in on your ideas ! Thanks again xoxo

taglist:

@iite-cool@jewelz-teehe@br0-please@d1lf-loverrr@corpsebridenightamare@laysmt@bitchystrawberrystudent@lotionlamp@local-mr-frog@scaleniusrm@migueloharastruelove@thedevax@3zae-zae3@veyveys@simmerarmy@amber-content

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snugglebug-mj · 9 months ago

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The eldest daughter who wasn't wanted

The Sully family x oldest daughter reader

Chapter 2 ~home~

(I am rewriting this story)

Y/ns tail flicked in anger but she tried to stay calm because there were children around.

(Everything in this front is English)

The Leonopteryx growled before y/n sent her to go back to flying, leaving the thanator standing beside her.

"Grandmother Why have you brought them here?" Y/n asked looking over at Mo'at.

"We-' Jake Sully started to speak but y/n put a hand up with a hiss

"I am asking Mo'at my grandmother, the tsahík" y/n hissed at the na'vi.

Neytiri hissed back as she stepped in front of her mate "how dare you speak to him like that, he is Toruk Makto," neytiri said with a smug look on her face

Y/n rolled her eyes "if he is toruk makto call your Leonopteryx" y/n said crossing her arms over her chest.

"I can't I haven't seen him in years" Jake said putting a hand on neytiris back to calm her down.

Y/n laughed everyone was shocked "that means he no longer finds you worthy. You might've been Toruk Makto a long time ago but now you are not." Y/n said bluntly before looking back at her grandmother

"I'm sorry about being interrupted, but my grandmother why?" Y/n asked Mo'at shock her head at Jake and neytiri

"Ma granddaughter, we need your help. Your siblings, and Jakes friends got hurt during the last fight with the sky people" Mo'at said pointing at some of the members

Y/n looked at all of them, the Omaticaya children leaned against another and a few humans looked beaten up.

Y/n had walked over to the children "I will bring you to my clan, tsahík will help heal you, that's all I can offer" y/n said Mo'at nodded

"Young Omaticayas, would you all be ok if I put you on the back of my thanator?" Y/n asked the children nodded.

Once she got the nod she called her thanator ezma over before placing them on her back, before turning towards the humans before she could speak a hand landed on her shoulder.

Y/n looked up at the teenager girl "Please don't send them away, they're our friends" she begged

"Do not worry kiri I will not send them away" y/n said the teens eyes widden before nodding, Y/n placed a hand on kiris with a smile, the four children smiled back

Y/n turned towards the humans "you child step forward." Y/n said pointing at spider. Everyone but Mo'at was surprised she could speak English, spider slowly stepped forward " do you want to ride my thanator or walk?" Y/n asked spiders face lit up "Really you'll let me ride?!" Spider asked excitedly y/n nodded before picking up the small being and putting him behind kiri.

"Other humans, I will carry the two of you unless you wish to walk" y/n said looking at max and Norm.

"We'll be ok walking thank you." Norm said shaking his head y/n nodded before starting to walk followed by Mo'at and Ezma

"Thank you ma daughter" neytiri said quickly

"My name is y/n you shall call me by that name nothing more" y/n growled.

As everyone followed y/n through the swamp Jake and neytiri looked at their oldest daughter

She talked with their other children and answered their questions, answer their human friends questions but would only give Jake and neytiri short answers.

~After a hour ~

Soon they all came to a stop "Welcome to my home" y/n said as everyone saw a village in the middle of the swamp

As the group walked closer to the village they saw a bunch of warriors getting ready to take flight, with a tsahík giving orders.

Y/n patted her thanator before running towards the tsahík "Sa'nok!" Y/n yelled making the large na'vi turn around quickly and rush towards her. Neytiri growled under her breath

"My 'ite! (My daughter)" Zo'ile yelled running towards her daughter, before trapping her in a tight hug.

The warriors where relieved the young na'vi was safe but the growled and pointed their spears at the Omaticaya and humans

"Mawey (calm) everyone Mawey please they need just help, some are hurt" y/n said still in her mother's arms

Zo'ile and zeytiri looked at each other, zo'ile hugged y/n a bit tighter but nodding to Mo'at

"Take them to the healing tent, we will help and give you a place to stay tonight. My mate Nawmrui The Olo'eyktan, will be back tomorrow." Zo'ile said standing to full height.

Mo'at nodded before leading the Sully's and the humans to the healers tent.

After Leyra helped the Sully's and the humans they were set in two huts one for the Sully's and the other for the humans, for the night.

Some of the warriors brought them food, before leaving them for the night.

Zo'ile, Leyra and Mo'at sat with y/n in y/ns hut

"Sa'nok (mother) grandmothers I'm ok." Y/n said with a sad smile, but her family didn't believe her.

"My 'ite (my daughter) don't lie to your Sa'nok (mother)" zo'ile said crossing her arms. Before pulling her daughter to her

Y/n had tears form in her eyes "I'll be ok." Y/n said rubbing her eyes.

Zo'ile, Leyra and Mo'at hugged her, feeling bad for the child, it was going to be a long night.

#avatar na'vi #avatar x reader #avatar 2009 #avatar x na'vi reader #avatar x y/n #avatar Na'vi y/n #sully oldest daughter reader #avatar sully family #sully family x daughter reader #sully family x reader

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lavandadiana · 5 days ago

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🜲 I wrote this in two hours. Spoilers for episode 6. Written before episode 7.

🜲 This has been on my mind all day...

°✧˖°✧˖°

"Why do you want to win the X title, Yang Cheng?" Xia Qing asked. Her doe brown eyes stare into his dull grey-blue eyes. "You know why, Xia Qing..." Yang Cheng's voice cracks with grief and anger.

"Yang Cheng... He's dead... We can't bring people back from the dead. We can't turn back time." Her voice is thick with concern and sadness.

"X's fans believe he's omnipotent. If I gain the title of X, then MG says that they'll spread a rumor that I can have the power to go back in time. With the help of the X title, I can."

"I can stop him from killing Shang Chao, or-" "Or kill the person that shot Shang Chao... Are you willing to go that far to save Shang Chao? Are you willing to kill someone?" Xia Qing asked, fearing the person who her little brother looked up to.

Yang Cheng didn't respond. "Yang Cheng, look me in the eyes and tell me that you won't kill someone..." He didn't meet her gaze.

"Yang Cheng-" "I have to go. See Ya, Xia Qing. Tell Pomelo I said hi." Yang Cheng stood up. He grabbed his helmet and put it on. He used his powers and ran off, leaving a conflicted Xia Qing.

Xia Qing sighs. She grabbed her purse and looked up at the sky. "Shang Chao... I think we're losing him... Why did you have to die?" Xia Qing wiped the tears from her eyes and walked away.

"Look, it's E-Soul!" "He's probably patrolling." "He's such an attentive hero!" Yang Cheng paid them no mind; he had somewhere to be. He arrived at the cemetery in no time. He laid down a bouquet of white chrysanthemums, pink roses, and red hibiscus on Shang Chao's grave.

Each flower holds a different meaning. White chrysanthemums hold the meaning of death and grief, pink roses mean romance and friendship, and red hibiscus means riches, fame, and delicate beauty, but they can also mean fleeting glory, fame, and beauty.

"Shang Chao... I- I miss you. It's been 5 years since that bastard killed you. I'm sorry that I wasn't fast enough... I'm sorry that I didn't believe in myself... I could've saved you... The bullet was meant for me... It should've been me..."

Yang Cheng kneels on his grave, tears cascading down his face. "Part of me wants to die in battle so I can see you again, but another part wants me to live and win the title of X so I can bring you back."

"I tracked him down and I begged him... I begged X to use his powers to bring you back. He says that his powers don't work like that... I don't believe him... I think he doesn't want to deal with the consequences that bringing the dead will have."

"Shang Chao... I'm sorry it took me so long to tell you this; I love you, Shang Chao... And I know you love me too... Your dad gave me your journal a week after your funeral. Alongside your schematics and blueprints, there were doodles of me and you together, heart doodles of our initials, and poems about me..."

Yang Cheng took a deep breath. "I thought that I liked Xia Qing, but it was just a crush. You were the one who made my heart beat. I'm sorry that I didn't realize sooner."

"The 21st hero tournament is starting soon. There's also a new hero... Well, technically not really. Nice died, and his manager replaced him. Do you remember Enlighter? Yeah, he's God Eye now. And the Nice replacement? He's now The Commoner. He's ranked 10 now."

"But don't worry, I'm still higher~ Even if it's only a rank higher, but I still have more experience than him." Yang Cheng smiles for a bit before it falters. He slowly stood up. "Don't worry, Shang Chao. I'll bring you back... no matter what. I promise that I will win the hero tournament and claim the title of X. Soon, you'll be next to me, whether it be in life or death." Yang Cheng kissed the top of the grave and used his powers to run away. He had a hero to find.

#tbhx #to be hero x #凸变英雄x #tbhx episode 6 #tbhx ep 6 #tbhx e soul #tbhx yang cheng #tbhx shang chao #🜲diadrabbles

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brotherwtf · 8 months ago

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this has been done by every fandom on earth but clegan little mermaid au (kinda, not really) bcs I'm soft for them

Gale who's a mermaid who has a terrible relationship with his father, he wants to be on land, even better he wants to be in the sky, especially when he sees planes flying overhead and he wishes so bad he could be up where they are, they seem so free up there

his father refuses, says his place is in the water, where it's safe, being on land and being in the sky is dangerous, so he doesn't allow Gale to even entertain the idea of ever leaving the water

one day, there's a plane that crashes in the water and Gale sneaks away from his family to check it out and finds a pilot strapped into the seat, unconscious, and Gale's fucking mesmerized. The pilot is beautiful, thick brown curls and a mustache over pink lips, but most of all he knows how to fly, so he rescues him from the downed plane and swims him back to land

he stays with the pilot until he's conscious, doesn't care that he'll see him with his tail and everything, he just desperately wants to know what it's like up in the air

the pilot, of course, freaks out when he sees Gale, freaks out even more because he's alive, he shouldn't be alive, his plane crashed, but Gale slowly explains that he saved him from the wreckage and he's going to be okay

once the pilot has calmed down, he introduces himself as Bucky, a major in the air force. When Gale introduces himself, Bucky shakes his head

"nah, you look exactly like my friend Buck in Manitowoc," and even despite Gale's protests, Bucky doesn't let the nickname go

Bucky's absolutely enthralled by Gale, and the same is true for Gale, and the spend the rest of the day talking. When the sun starts to set, Bucky grabs Gale's wrist and desperately asks if he'll get to see him again

and that makes Gale's heart flutter in a way he doesn't quite understand, so he agrees, tells him to meet at the little cove in the morning, and Bucky's ecstatic

so they do that, every morning they meet at the rocky cove where Gale dragged Bucky and they spend hours talking, even when Bucky claims he should probably be finding an air base and getting back into combat

but Gale begs Bucky to tell him what it's like in the sky, listening intently as Bucky describes it as the most beautiful thing he's ever witnessed, and he has Gale tell him what it's like down in the ocean, and while Gale doesn't seem as enthusiastic Bucky is always so intrigued

Gale realizes he's falling in love with Bucky, falls in love with his easy smile and bright laughter, they way Bucky wholeheartedly smiles at him when he talks

they kiss one evening while the suns setting, when Bucky's steel blue eyes twinkle so prettily in the setting sun and Gale just can't help himself, leans in to press a sweet kiss against his lips, half expects Bucky to get up and bolt, but he just presses in further, wrapping an arm around Gales waist to bring him closer

something something Gale begs his father to be turned human so he can be with Bucky, and while Gale's father is a cruel and terrible person, he realizes this might be good so he can keep his power, smiles evilly when he turns Gale human, doesn't even know that he's fulfilling every single one of Gale's wishes

Gale literally jumps into John's arms, as much as he can with his new legs, kissing him until he's breathless, and he's just so damn happy it hurts him

John takes Gale flying as soon as he can, and Gale couldn't be happier than here in the sky with his love

#clegan #mota #buck x bucky #john egan #gale cleven #drabble

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violentdelightshavevioletends · 2 months ago

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Multiple POV event timeline for Onyx Storm’s ending chapters (63 Imogen, 64 Violet, & 65 Xaden):

Terror busts through the ice.

— Putrid fear consumes the bond, followed by another roar that nearly buckles my knees. —

Berwyn just killed a dragon with a dagger. How the fuck is that possible? "Were you watching? Because that's exactly what's about to happen to yours." He turns to me and saunters toward Sgaeyl as she thrashes futilely under the net. "You'll have to channel deep to replace the loss of her power." He lifts the blade, and I don't just skate over the ice. I become it. "Stop!" Sgaeyl roars, blowing back Berwyn's robes. "Do not do this to save me!" Do this? It's already done.

— Sgaeyl. My head jerks upward, my heart lurching against the cage of my ribs as Tairn snarls, his talons furrowing in the forest floor. "Don't!" —

How fucking dare they pull my dragon from the sky, snare and hurt the one who anchors my existence. I throw my blades into the air, fall to one knee, splay my hand over the canyon floor, and break. In my final act of resistance, I become the very thing I despise. Maybe it's good that I can't feel a single damned thing. I breathe in the power that pulses beneath my hand like a living, breathing creature, and exhale darkness. Shadow streams through the canyon, thick as tar and black as ink, blacking out the afternoon sun and turning the space pitch-black. Shadow plants my daggers in the chests of the two venin standing guard. Shadow drags Berwyn from Sgaeyl and knocks both him and my new brother unconscious. Shadow brings quiet.

— Terror clogs my throat as I shout for Xaden, but he can't hear me. Draithus is enveloped in darkness, and the shrieking cries of wyvern soon follow, racing across the field and echoing off the rock above. —

My soul departs like pieces of ash from a fire, flaking free and drifting away as power consumes the space it once inhabited. I'm no longer on the ice—I am the ice. And still I feed, tunneling deep into the source of magic itself and surging outward simultaneously, finding the identical heartbeats that mark wyvern and slicing through scale with shadow, ripping their runestones free. I start with the one who dared set its teeth in Sgaeyl's shoulder, skim past the one who now thinks himself my brother, then destroy the six blocking the entrance to this canyon. Save them, the last remaining pieces of me beg, holding on with teeth and claw to keep from being torn away, too. My shadows surge from the canyon, over the city, ending every wyvern in the air and on the ground. I'm everywhere at once, shredding the net that ensnares Sgaeyl, tearing the heart from the wyvern who has Dain and Cath backed into a corner, rushing over Imogen as she looks to the sky.

— I unsheathe my last alloy-hilted dagger and stare up at the wyvern-filled sky. Then I make my way back inside, slip Quinn's last dagger from her thigh sheath, and reach for Glane. "Tell every rider within the walls to get over here and disarm. It's the only way we're living through this." Outside, the sky darkens further. Sorrengail better take their leader all the way the fuck out, or this will all have been for nothing. —

I'm at the pass, plucking wyvern off one by one, listening with satisfaction as their bodies hit the ground in front of the people she loves. I stream up the cliffside, fall back at the magic that burns to the touch, and surge north.

— "What—" Theophanie pivots toward the noise. Shadow spreads like a ripple on a lake, devouring the field in the fury of an onyx storm and sweeping toward us at a speed that squeezes the hope from my chest, then outright shatters my heart. The pain hits like a physical blow to the center of my chest. He's terrifyingly powerful with Sgaeyl, but not like this. This is the kind of force that ends worlds. And it's almost here. —

"I love you." Violet's voice cracks the cold, and a silken thread of warmth wedges itself in the opening before it seals shut, locking it in place.

— "I love you," I whisper down the bond, and the ice cracks, but it's not enough to halt the approaching wave of darkness. —

No. Wait. I grab for that thread with desperate hands, clawing to keep her as more of my pieces are blown away, lost to the void. She is warmth and light and air and love. My shadows consume the valley she stands in, dagger bared, defending Tairn from the same style of net that caught Sgaeyl. I shove the Maven to the ground, regardless of her rank, then slide over Violet with a gentleness that takes all my concentration.

— Shadow throws Theophanie to the ground a second before it rushes over me, whisper soft against my cheeks, tossing us into pitch-black night. —

I love her. That is the emotion I cling to, the fire of pure power burning at the feeling's edges, and I know if I take it any further, it will be the next and final piece to float away. I bare my teeth and yank my hand from the ground, gasping for a full breath as my heart thunders.

— "Use the darkness!" Tairn orders. My heart stutters. Use the very thing that's taking Xaden from me? I never dreamed that taking every possible path to cure him would lead to his choice. The fire devouring me from the inside out threatens to consume my very bones, and for a second, I debate letting it. I couldn't stop my mother, and I can't stop Xaden. I can't save him. —

I've never felt so strong and so defeated at the same time. This was the only way. I rise to my feet and release the shadows, and the canyon comes into view.

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utterlyotterlyx · 1 year ago

Text

A Fate Inked In Starlight

Part Six

Eris x Fem!Reader x Azriel

Summary - After crashing into the Autumn Court with no idea who you are, where you are, or how you got there, Eris takes it upon himself to hide you and care for you with the help of the Night Court. That is until souls from other walks of life infiltrate Prythian searching for you.

Warnings - blood, angst, new friends and revelations, spot the hints (wink)

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Sunset skies peered down on you inquisitively, and the earth was soft and slightly warm beneath you.

You hissed as you moved, a metallic sting prodding a the surface of your abdomen. The world tilted, and the familiar dull thumping in your mind swelled behind your eyes and you pinched the bridge of your nose in attempt to centre yourself.

Not again.

Lapping waves on the shore flooded your ears as they crashed against the jagged stone rocks along the bay. Flexing your fingers, you felt sand pool between them, weaving in the spaces you had allowed them to infiltrate.

Looking about, you frantically examined where you had landed, pale blue water and white sandy beaches welcomed your sight, and the faint gull of seabirds sounded in the distance.

No. No no no.

The sky watched you, the same sky that had only moments ago parted and thrust you into a world you didn't recognise. Was it another part of Prythian? Where had it taken you?

Were you dreaming?

Turning desperate, you begged your body to lead you back, back to Eris, back to Azriel and Velaris. You stood, the white sand shifting beneath your weight, the hem of your dress kissing the ground and peering about the scene itself, rippling in unearthed unease.

The sand spanned for miles, perhaps further than your eye could see, it was everywhere bar the void to the west which was brimming with oceanic bliss. Warmth brushed through the wisping beach grass, making them rustle and shiver at its kiss that soon curled around your forearms and shrouded you like a comforter, a warm welcome indeed.

In the distance you spied what appeared to be a house, a speck in your vision, but it called to you, it whispered your name on the wind and allowed it's friend to carry its pleads to you. Your mind had gone quiet, for the first time in days it was finally quiet, and you could hear the beat of your heart and the shuffle of your feet as they carried you toward that speck in the distance. Toward whatever would await you there.

"Find her," Eris was on his feet, stood before the Inner Circle growling at them to find you and bring you back, eyes wild and hair tousled from burying his hands within it and tugging as he stood helpless against what had transpired.

Eris believed that sending you to Velaris, to the City of Starlight and dreamers, would be enough to settle you, to rid you of your nightmares and allow you to walk toward your next path without him suffocating you. He didn't believe he was, but he didn't want your livelihood to depend on him, especially when Beron was still kicking and your biggest threat.

The Shadowsinger hadn't said a word, no matter how many questions Nesta or Cassian had asked him, he kept his gaze trained to the floor, his marred palms turned upward at the sky and his shoulders slumped against the back of the deeply set armchair where he sat.

The vision wouldn't leave him, he couldn't stop seeing the stars wrap around your body and propel him away from you, like he was the source of your pain and anguish. He couldn't stop seeing your eyes, the fraction of a second where you had changed your mind before you were thrown through a portal of rippling light. He couldn't stop hearing his name fall from your lips, the last thing you said before you were torn away from him.

"I'm sure we would pull a portal from our asses if it was possible, Eris," Rhys rubbed his forehead, sighing as he came to terms with the fact that, just like his sister, you had been cruelly taken from him too. Maybe he wasn't allowed to have nice things, maybe he didn't deserve it.

The sadness flowed down the bond and Feyre came to his aid immediately, running her fingers through his hair and down his arms to soothe his thoughts. Rhys would have done anything to help you, she knew that, and it was heart breaking that you had seemed to have forgotten.

The trauma had been too much, too much that you couldn't think straight through the pain, and then there was the revelation that Amren had rather stupidly spoken into truth. A fact that made Rhys' chest rumble as he looked to his second, "You had no right to throw that on her," his power throbbed around him, coating him in darkness; his hands gripped the arms of his chair and he struggled to take even breaths, "You knew she was fragile, you knew she couldn't handle that. Whether she asked you to find the answer or not, you should have waited until she was stable enough to listen."

Amren's eyes flickered, drowning in her High Lords power that Feyre was trying desperately to diffuse, "I didn't realise that it would end up like this," her voice was strained and she was doing her best to be void of her usual sarcastic attitude.

"How exactly did you think it would end?" Azriel's voice was low, his chin was dipped but he stared at her through his brows, his fingers twitching and shadows curling around his shoulders, "How exactly did you think that it couldn't end badly after what she went though only a few days ago?"

Amren, realising that even the sentient home was against her in that moment, sighed, "I'm sorry."

The apology meant nothing to them, to the people who had come to cherish you as their own flesh and blood, "I highly suggest that you figure out a way to conjure a portal, Amren. And fast." Rhys didn't say another word, he simply watched as she scuttled like a roach from the room.

Amren was smart. There was no way she couldn't have foreseen her emotionless words push you to the point that they had.

The home already felt colder without you, the halls felt forever draughty, the wood had darkened and the fire had become less inclined to dance in their presence, because you weren't there to impress.

"This has to have something to do with Bryce," Nesta spoke quietly, knowing how Rhys felt about the fae female that had appeared a year or so prior, leaving his rallying his armies just in case her word fell into ash. Nesta looked to Azriel, who met her eye and narrowed them, waiting, "Y/N, or Flora, or The Mother, or whatever you'd like to call her, has an eight pointed star on her lower back, just like Bryce has on her chest, just like my tattoo," Nesta ghosted her fingers over her shoulder, grazing the top point of the star on her own back. "Bryce can open portals, she did exactly that to get here. Y/N opened a portal tonight too, whether she meant to or not. Maybe it's all linked."

"The stars opened that portal, not her," Azriel breathed, sliding down in his seat and frowning. He had to admit that it made sense, that there could be something that linked all three of them together.

"We can't know that for sure. If Y/N is the Mother like Amren says, then it may be possible that she willed it unconsciously," Rhys leaned forward and questioned her thought, he had asked her what exactly she was suggested, "All three of us have the marking of the eight pointed star, Bryce and Y/N have opened portals, perhaps it's possible that I can too, somehow."

Nesta was too cold to admit her adoration of you, but it shined through her actions, when she tended to you and made sure that you were always comfortable, when she would sit beside and read with you and then talk to you about the chapter that had you gasping. You were connected, it made sense, her need to protect you made sense.

"Elain?" Feyre called out her sisters name, the one who was sat beside Lucien with milky pale eyes and slightly open lips, whispering to herself incoherently. Feyre dropped to her knees before her and took her hands in her own, "Tell me what you see."

Elain gulped, "I see blood. I see claw scraping along Prythian. I see uprooted grass and discarded shields. I see fire and stars falling from the sky. I hear..." Elain's voice drifted, her pointed ears twitching and her head slightly moving to the side so that she could listen, "I hear screaming, it's not human or fae. I hear the shadows and enormous violet eyes roaring. Black scales, fire, blood, mangled bodies. We're all dead. They're coming."

The middle Archeron sister jolted back into her body, blinking harshly and reopening her eyes which were normal but laced with fear, "What have we done?" Elain rasped, looking to Lucien and catching her breath in her throat, "She was the only thing keeping them away. They wanted her but now that she's gone they want to devour our world," Realisation hit her, "My visions were never about Y/N being a threat, they were about her protecting us."

Rhys turned to Nesta, the room heavy with the words her younger sister had spoken, "Do it."

Nesta needed no more encouragement, she squeezed Cassian's hand and departed for the library, praying the the Mother, to you, that she could reach you in time to stop whatever whatever was coming their way.

Familiarity flocked around you as you stood before the house, walls of pale stone, a thatched roof, large sparkling windows. It was massive, big enough for the entire Inner Circle to live in and there still be plenty of space. It was no longer a speck in your vision, rather a monster looming over you, so tall that the sun had disappeared behind it.

A small garden lay at the forefront, recently tended to given the discarded gloves and the water can to its side. Notes of lilac and jasmine floated around you and you inhaled it, it was nothing compared to Azriel's scent, or Eris' for that matter, but it still made you feel peaceful, protected.

The handle warmed over your touch, clicking unlocked and pinging open. Intricately woven rugs and abstract artworks welcomed you, the space was open plan, open books law strewn against the floorboards, blankets had been left draped over the backs of the armchairs, embers crackled in the recently dead fireplace. Something was telling you that this wasn't just any home. It was yours, or used to be at least.

Standing in the centre of the room, you glanced downward at the pages of the books beneath you, faintly recognising the images drawn onto the surface but not enough for you to know what they were.

"Y/N?" You whipped your head around to find a woman who looked the same age as you, but who actually knew how old you were? She was dressed in a black velvet dress, golden skin, thick waves of onyx and violet eyes that were brimming with tears of relief, "You're back?"

"What?"

The woman frowned, cocking her head to the side as she examined you, you never wore dresses, especially not ones that hung from your body like that. She examined your skin, the blood that had stained the fabric atop your abdomen, then your eyes, eyes that were usually confident and sure but now were nothing more than confused and lost.

"Do you know who I am? Where you are?"

You shook your head slowly but didn't move, only watching her shout another name, one that made warmth pool in the pit of your stomach, and you waited until that named joined the pair of you. Silvery blonde hair with pale rose streaks, sharp features and caramel eyes, wearing a jacket that had a familiar phrase sketched onto the back.

Through love, all is possible.

There was something odd about the way they shimmered, like they were really there but also weren't in a sense.

The blonde peered at you through her lashes, her neck tattoo of a horned, grinning wolf rippling as she gulped. The two women couldn't have been more different in looks, the dark haired woman was the personification of grace, and the blonde was rough, like she had lived through a thousand battles and could tell a million tales. You had a feeling that she had actually.

"Who are you? Do you know who I am?"

The blonde approached you, her calloused fingers curled around your wrists and you all sat down on the seating area that needed a bit more care put into its appearance, "I'm Danika, and that's Selene. We're your friends. We all live here."

The raven-haired one, Selene, smiled warmly at you, concern etched into her brows, "They said I'm the Mother? Is that true?"

Danika smirked, scoffing slightly as she said, "You're not the actual Mother, no. More of a personification of her, a reborn version of the original. You come from a world called Erilea." she explained and you nodded, allowing your eyes to drift around the room, finding serenity in certain areas of the home, by the stove in the kitchen and the bay window in the library.

"You left here to help Bryce and Ruhn, do you remember Bryce?" The despair in your face told them that you had no idea who Bryce was, "She's your friend, my best friend. They needed the help that only you could give."

"Why couldn't you help them?"

"Because we're dead," Selene admitted sadly, streaking her fingers through her waves, "You may not be the real Mother, or Urd, as they say in Lunathion. But you're much more powerful than she ever was."

"This place that we live in is a pocket universe that you created with your bare hands and pure soul, you brought us here when we died, when we had finally felt ready to move on into the afterlife and beyond."

Tilting your head at Selene, finding familiarity within her, you smiled fondly, "You're Rhys' sister?" The sound of her brother's name made tears flow down her face, and then she asked you how you knew that.

So you told them everything.

Everything from the moment you had woken up in Prythian in your armour with the glowing yellow centre and metallic talons on your fingers, armour that they had confirmed was your battle wear. You told them of living with Eris and Duke, how he had helped you to find your feet and cared for you, soothing your nightmares and placing love in your soul. You spoke of your nightmares and visions in vivid detail. You told them of how Eris had sent you to Velaris, the City of Starlight, and how Rhys had seemingly saw Selene in you.

"Rhys is incredible," you breathed, missing his comfort, "He has a mate now, a High Lady, Feyre. They have a son together, Nyx. They're beautiful."

You told them of Azriel, of his softness, of his doting encouragement and fearless flirting, of how he made you feel sane but fearless. You told them of how Cassian had revoked the pastry privileges until you agreed to train with him, they had laughed at that.

Then you spoke of the attack, of the two beings who had come to find you, who threatened Nyx. You spoke of how you killed them and nearly died yourself. And then the news that Amren had told you, everything that had brought you to the armchair where you sat, they knew.

"Is Bryce okay?"

Danika frowned, clearly worried, "I'm not sure. I hope she is. I'm hoping you saved them before you tumbled into Prythian. A world without Bryce isn't one worth living in."

"The runes," you raised your arms and allowed them to glisten in the light, "What are they?"

Selene took your hands, "Your power requires balance, control. There is no one in any universe that can rival you. You called them wyrdmarks, they were given to you when your power continued to manifest and grow, they help you to hone your abilities, without them you'd perish."

"Each one links to an aspect of your power," Danika pointed to the marred triangle on your wrist, a line split through the peak, "This one helps you to control water," she turned your hand over, "This one means that you can command the stars," her finger lay on the small of your back, "The eight pointed star here means that you are Starborn, not just one of them but the Queen," then her finger traced along the rune, or wyrdmark, curved along your collarbone, "This one is for your dragon."

"Dragon?"

Selene hummed, "You may be many things, Y/N. But before all of that, you were a Queen, a Queen of Dragons. Tia has missed you very much."

Tia.

"Tiamat is depicted in lore as a dragon with a fae-like alternate."

As if on queue, a shrieking roar sounded overhead followed by the thunderous flapping of wings that coated the house in flickering darkness. The ground rumbled, jolting as whatever it was landed on the ground outside. You couldn't understand how Selene and Danika seemed unbothered by it, like it was a common occurrence.

Something consumed you, and you bolted from the seat, rushing from the door and coming face to face with the shadow that had plagued your dreams.

Onyx scaled wings and deep violet eyes, skin the shade of the darkest night. Horns of silver and ripples of starlight appearing like veins on its surface.

A sultry dark voice infiltrated your mind.

You came back.

A soft gasp fell from your lips, the beast before you was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen, ferocious but elegant, a perfect rendition of terror and serenity.

"You called."

Flickering images poured into your head, the rippling gates of oceanic starlight in your mind finally opening and flooding you with millions of memories. Memories of love and laughter, of blood and screams, of ferocious roars and the clashing of metal, of tears and anguish, but most of all, memories of the mission you had embarked upon. The mission that still laid bare and unfinished in the palm of your hands.

"How?"

Tia craned her neck, her large head hovering before you, knowing that despite the memories flooding down your shared consciousness and into your mind, you still had a long way to go before you were ready to be you again. Sniffing the air, she caught the scent of your blood and slowly lowered herself to your abdomen, exhaling wisps of curling starlight to the location, and you felt the pain subside into nothingness.

We share a soul, you and I. Our memories are shared. We are one.

"I'm not ready."

I know. When the time is right, I know you will be.

Authors Note

It's getting hot in here...

Part Seven will be on it's way, I'm on a city break from Sunday so it'll be next week for the next part x

Taglist

@acourtofbatboydreams @glitterypirateduck @isaxbella749 @aactuaaltraash @blackgirlmagicforever @imma-too-many-fandoms @b1ravenclaw @tsumsamu @donttellthecats @glaciuswduo @mybestfriendmademe @daardyrnitta @cleverzonkwombatsludge @sevikas-whore @yourmumsdumptruck @saltedcoffeescotch @rogersbarnesxx @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @edance2000 @lilah-asteria

(Sorry if I missed anyone x)

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god-has-entered-my-body · 1 year ago

Text

Do you wanna dance? - Matty Healy

A/N: i couldn't help myself, these two deserve to be happy forever and ever xx

this is a part two to this request i did earlier, but can also be read separately!!

wc: 3k

content warnings: mentions of drugs (weed), cursing, typical MPIND banter, kissing, a touch suggestive?

May, 2009

“I’m so fucking boreddd, kill me now.” you drag your feet on the ground, letting yourself be pulled along by Matty, his hand tightly clasped against yours. He rolls his eyes, begging you to walk properly, and that you would find something to do soon.

“Carolines?” he suggests, pointing in the general direction of the old paper factory, it being maybe a 25 minutes walk from where you were currently at. You raise your eyebrows at him, a skeptical look on your face. “Really?” you ask, whining about how your feet hurt and you didn't want to walk any further.

“Pretty please, I promise I'll make it worth your while.” he lowers his voice, winking at you cheekily. A groan leaves your lips, and you shove him off to the side, taking a swig from a freshly opened bottle of cheap tesco wine.

“I’d do alot for you,” you burp, making Mattys face scrunch up in disgust “but i am not shagging you on a terrace, not a chance in fuck.” he laughs like music to your ears, a gross snort slipping out.

You suggest calling your other mates, inviting them for a few drinks on the balcony, just like old times. That small platform just off the main office held dear memories, good and bad. Matty immediately shakes his head, bringing your hand away from the phone in your pocket. “Just you and me, no one else.” He sounds different, you couldn't quite place it.

“Carry me.” you joke, pressing a dramatic hand to your forehead. Imagine your surprise when you feel a firm hand press against your back, and another wrap around the back of your knees, hauling you up. Your hip hits the bare skin on Mattys chest, another ‘stylistic’ choice of his, only being covered in a thin, see through black shirt.

“Jesus, fuck, let me down!!” you scream, attempting to push him away.

All he does is giggle at your struggle, only pulling you closer, planting a sweet kiss on your lips.

“D’you think I'm too weak to carry you?” you huff, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“I’m too heavy, you’ll proper hurt yourself-” he laughs again, almost in disbelief. “Oh, come off it, I'm pretty strong, you know!” you roll your eyes, shooting him a worried look. He nods, leaning in to give you what you think is another kiss.

Instead, he fucking licks across your face, making you squirm away at the odd feeling.

“Perv.” you spit, turning your head away from him. He nuzzles his face into your freshly curled hair, humming contentedly as he starts walking down the sidewalk. You notice him adjusting his hands a few times, trying to get a better grip, so you ask to be let down. He refuses, like he’s trying to prove something to someone. It was no use, he was going to see this through, apparently.

It was wet, the rain from a few hours prior making everything smell like damp concrete. It was barely sunset, the sky painted several shades of blue, purple and orange, clouds sparsely littering the sky. Trees were finally starting to green again, and the warm air kissed your skin, warning you of the hot summer to come. It was late May, breezy and comfortable, even if it was pissing it down most of the time, you didn't mind it, rarely getting sick anyway.

The back entrance was covered by stacks of cardboard, soggy and flimsy from the rain. Matty tries to set you down gracefully onto a rock nearby, miserably failing as when trips over his own feet, sending you both flying down onto the soft, grassy ground.

Laughing at the stumble, he kisses you while you're still under him, gripping your cheeks between his fingertips. The moment doesn't last long, wet dirt sullying the back of your shirt, making you whine like a small child. He reluctantly rolls off you, offering a hand to help you stand. Wobbly on your very impractical heels, Matty takes a jab at your choice of footwear.

“Who wears heels to go walk around? You've got fucking ankles of steel or something, thats mad.” he laughs, gesturing at your red platforms, thin straps the only thing keeping them attached to your feet.

“They’re platforms.” you correct him “You’d know that, if you knew anything ever. Fuck you, you’re just jealous i’m taller now.” It was true, you towered slightly over him, even if only a few inches, it gave you a sense of power.

Twirling your hair around your fingers, you let Matty lead you up the stairs, hand firmly gripping your wrist. His nails were painted black to match, though they were significantly more chipped than yours, the nail polish peeling off in chunks.

Still, you found it endearing how he always wanted to use the things you did, whether it be makeup, clothes, even colors. What was yours was his, and what was his was yours, evident au cause de the blue top you were wearing. The stupid tourist shirt, his prized possession.

The wind had died down a bit by the time you reached the smashed glass door leading to the terrace. Ross had managed to fall through it one night, absolutely wrecked off half a bottle of tito’s, no mixer. The four of you spent hours afterwards trying to pick small shards of glass out of a blacked out Ross, utterly convinced he was dying of alcohol poisoning. Fucking drama queen.

Orange light floods the terrace, painting the worn down sofa in a warm hue. Matty smirks slightly as he plops down onto it, patting the space beside him, asking a silent question. You smile, the sight of him making your heart swell up with love. God, he looked beautiful, it was almost too much. Thicker chunks of his hair were now dyed blonde, streaks of pink peeking through. Impulse decision, though a good one, the bit of color really suited him.

“You got any?” he asks, tucking both his hands behind his head, spreading his legs, his shirt riding up slightly. A suggestion.

“What do you take me for?” you giggle, already pulling out your weed. He never brought his own, insisting that if you wanted to roll them yourself, you’d also buy it. His logic was deeply flawed, but honestly, you loved him too much to tell him.

Rolling the spliff, flashes of memories flip through your mind, you hear Hann’s voice.

‘Girls don't roll their own spliffs’ God, he was such a dickhead.

“Girls don’t roll their own spliffs.” you giggle, grinning at Matty as you lick it closed, admiring your work. George had given you a few tips, and you’d actually gotten better. Mattys angelic laugh fills your ears, bouncing off the concrete walls.

“Fuck yeah, I'm your girl.” he says proudly, brushing tangled curls out of his face, slightly more tan than usual, the sun having branded his fair skin. Your eyes roll of their own accord, and you nudge him with your elbow, muttering quietly.

“Shut up mate, honestly.” he lets out a dramatic gasp at your words, pressing a hand to his chest is faux shock.

“Do mates do this?” You jump as he snatches the spliff out of your hand, grabbing your face just like he did on the grass before, pressing a hot kiss right beside your mouth, just missing it. Biting back a moan, you feel his tongue slip past your lips, running across your own.

“Okay, fuck off now, thanks.” you smile, unable to stop yourself. Not when he looked at you with such joy, eyes glimmering in the warm light.

He hands the joint back to you, your hands brushing against each other. It felt loving, purposeful, real.

Grabbing the lighter from your right pocket, you run your fingers across the worn rhinestone, fondly remembering the day he’d made it for you.

The way he was reluctant at first, only giving in after you physically dragged him through the doors of the hobby shop, forcing him to pick out decorations. His concentrated expression as he tried to pick off the cheap stones, having to let you help him do it after numerous failed attempts. It was one of your favorite days with him, wishing you could relive it a thousand times over.

Laying back, you hold it in front of you, rotating it over the flame to get an even burn. The smell flooding your senses, you close your eyes, bringing the spliff to your lips. Inhaling deeply, you feel Matty shuffle next to you, shifting and making the sofa creak under him. You try to ignore it, keeping your eyes shut as you feel the drug hit your system, a warm, weightless sensation enveloping you. It was when he moved for the third time that you snapped your eyes open, going to complain.

“Christ, will you stop moving around like tha-” your words get caught in your throat, dying out.

He wasn't in the spot next to you anymore. No, he was on the floor. On the floor, on one knee, holding a small, red velvet box in his right hand. Your breath hitches as you notice the expression on his face. Anxiety. You could speak, hell, you could barely fucking think. Matty was in front of you, kneeling, holding a white diamond that was shimmering in the light, like a goddamn dream.

You watch as he opens his mouth to speak several times, closing it before any sound comes out. His eyes fill with panic as you sit up, eyes wide in shock. He was proposing. Properly proposing, with a ring and everything, down on one knee. You’re convinced this is a dream, of a fucking hallucination, something more believable than what was actually happening in front os you.

“Marry me?” he forces out, hand slightly shaking as you look him up and down, mouth completely dry. You felt tears stream down your face. Obviously, with Matty not being able to read your mind, his eyes dart around your features, trying to gauge what your reaction meant.

“Holy shit, what the fuck is wrong with you.” are the first words you say, hands coming up to shield your face. The panic only grew as he tries to speak, only things coming out being bits of words and ‘sorry’.

Shaking your head violently, you reach out your hand, presenting your ring finger. Tears well up in Mattys own eyes, dangerously close to rolling down his puffy cheeks.

“Yes, oh my god, I fucking love you so much.” you scream, bouncing off your spot on the sofa, lunging towards a very emotional Matty. You catch his lips in a kiss, wrapping your arms around him tightly, not daring to let go

“Really? You’ll marry me?” he says in genuine disbelief, his left hand gripping your lower back, pulling you close.

“Of course i’ll marry you Matty, christ.” he pushes you away, giddily slipping the silver ring onto your ring finger, planting a soft kiss to the metal.

“Fucking hell that is a boulder.” you look at the diamond in awe, the stone basically blinding you. He grins from ear to ear, grabbing the fabric of your top, kissing you softly, a gentle warmth spreading throughout your body as your lips make contact.

“Only the best for my wife.” giggles leave his lips, delirious and ecstatic, disbelief still evident in the way his eyes rake over you, settling on the ring. Pressing a hand to your cheeks, he thumbs the tears away, kissing all over your face. Your heart thrums against your ribcage, threatening to burst out of your chest.

“Bit early, innit?” you comment, sucking in a deep breath, eyes glued to Mattys. You're both on your knees, concrete digging into the skin of your legs. It was cold, uncomfortable, but you truly couldn't care less.

“Never too early, Mrs. Healy” he smirks in that cheeky way of his, both hands settling onto your shoulder, rubbing small shapes into your skin. The moment doesn't feel real, nothing does. You hope to god that this isn't a dream, that that this was really happening.

“Can Hann be the flower girl?” your inability to be serious for five fucking seconds shines through, the both of you falling into each others arms, uncontrollably laughing. Mattys eyes crease as he giggles, the feel of his hands on your body is heavenly, l of his hands touching your skin makes you truly believe you've reached a higher plane of existence.

“Only if he wears the dress.”

“Deal.” you say, knowing well that getting Adam Hann into a dress would require months of begging, maybe even bribery. You would probably need to buy him a fucking house to get him to even consider it.

More laughter, more kissing, more planning a future neither of you had ever actually thought possible. A future with each other.

Matty fumbles around in his pockets, pulling out his Ipod, initials erratically scratched into the metal. You raise your eyebrows at him, asking a silent question of ‘what the fuck?’

“Do you wanna dance?” he asks, smirking at you as he swiftly stands up, extending his hand. This is so incredibly cliché, and you know that yourself, but you can't bring yourself to care.

His fingers press one earphone into your ear, before doing the same to his own. He smiles sweetly, expression softening. This was true, raw, unbridled love.

“Can I choose the song?” you ask, fingers trailing down Mattys jaw as he settles his hands onto your waist. Nodding, he hands you the Ipod, letting you select whatever you wanted.

“I love you so much, my darling girl.” he mumbled into your hair, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Stop being such a sap,” you laugh, quickly adding a “I love you too.” as to not offend him. As if he would be offended.

Suffragette City blared through the headphones, the music filling every corner of your being. Your hips swayed, and so did his, guiding you lightly with the hands gripping you tightly.

You didn't speak, letting Matty spin and twirl you around, breaking out into fits of laughter when you almost tripped over your ridiculous heels. Fuck, they were really a bad idea.

Stopping for a second, you reach down to unclasp your shoes, kicking them off without a second thought.

“Already taking your clothes off? We haven't even said our vows yet-” he teases, being met with a sharp look and a hand threaded into his hair, pulling him into a deep kiss.

“Don't ruin the moment, you wanker.” you mutter against his lips, licking into his mouth as you let him take back control of your movements.

You don't know how long you dance for, but by the time the two of you finally come up for air, the sun had almost completely disappeared behind the tall buildings of the city.

Your life together flashes through your mind. That very first kiss. That night in The Sound. Ruby. The drugs. The lighter, smashed into little bits. Your fight with the guys. The night he had called you, shaking and crying, scared. The photos. The sight of him, down on one knee.

This was it. Everything that had happened; every mistake, every fight, every passionate kiss, every gasp of pleasure when skin met skin, every tear shed since that night at the bus stop had been leading up to this final moment.

You and Matty,

Matty and you

Forever.

Properly this time

The music faded, the sound of rainfall pattering loudly against the metal roof replaced it.

A Suffragette City, A Suffragette City

Quite all right

A Suffragette City

Too fine

A Suffragette City, ooh, A Suffragette City

Oh, my Suffragette City, oh my Suffragette City

Ah, Suffragette