#WHY IS HIS HAIR SO HARD TO DRAW i just ended up making it silly because its more fun to do than his proper mohawk

[theechoingasteroid]

self-indulgent monty art because hes my favourite gaytor

maybe expect more fnaf art from me possibly (my autism has latched onto it for some reason)

[valleyofheartz]

I Love You, I’m Sorry

University AU

Pairing: Volleyball player!Sakusa Kiyoomi x Artist!F!Reader

angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, FWB to lovers, angst with a happy ending

WC: 9.7k

Synopsis: Falling in love with the pretty volleyball player in your first year of University wasn’t something you intended to happen; it just did. And then, two years later, the line between lust and love blurs. You want him beyond his body, but does he want every side of you? A part of you liked to think so, but Sakusa Kiyoomi is known for crushing hearts, and make no mistake, you were no exception.

Content/Warnings: alcohol consumption, kissing, mentions of sex but nothing explicit, FWB relationship, graphic descriptions of blood/knives/wounds/organs (nothing actually happens), subtle hints of depression/anxiety, jealousy, curse words, one scene with a creep but its vague, pls lmk if I missed anything!

two August’s ago, you fell in love.

you remember laughing till tears cascaded down your rosy cheeks, face hurting from smiling so much. you remember soft touches; on your hand as you reached for the same item, on your waist when you squeezed by, on the corner of your mouth when you don’t seem to notice the crumbs that coat your lips. you remember a gentle smile, eyes crinkling the slightest bit as your heart stutters in your chest. you remember dark curly hair, mole kissed skin and eyes brimming with affection.

you remember everything.

bright, giddy, and curious, you entered university with dreams larger than the sun. your passion for art made you yearn. you wanted to draw everything beautiful. you’d sit by the tree near your campus library and draw for hours, music blaring through your headphones as you sketched pretty items, pretty scenery, and pretty people in your book.

it was under the tree you found your muse.

you recall forgetting to bring something to tie your hair with, leaving it to fall in your face when the the wind hit a little too hard. you squinted, frowning as you moved the strands out of your sight.

and then, as if entranced, you see the prettiest student walk towards the library. it’s like everything is suddenly moving slower. he’s clad in a- sports jacket? with your school logo, and black shorts to match. he has a gym bag hung on his right shoulder, but you find yourself more focused on the thick locks on his head and soft slope of his nose. his lips are full, pretty and pink. the slight chill from the air must be the reason why his cheeks are tinted as well, and your hands itch with the urge to draw this mythical being.

(first-year you was a little dramatic, but present you still understands her.)

you draw a rough sketch of him the moment he leaves, but you know had you had more time to look, you would’ve done a much better job.

✾

the second time you see him is at a party.

you had forgotten about the pretty boy as the days went on, more focused with school and handing in assignments. exams arrived, and then you were on break. your friends had begged you to show up, with promises of it being a fun experience even if all you wanted to do was curl up under the covers and sleep all day.

you end up wearing a cute outfit, somewhat revealing yet covering the parts you wanted to. your hair is styled with shiny clips that match your makeup. you feel pretty, and even though you initially did not want to go out, you think this might be a good idea.

“Y/n, let me know if you want to leave early, okay? And don’t drink anything random people offer you.” Kuroo grabs your arm, tone serious. you want to laugh at the usually silly guy being so protective of you.

you smile, “I know, father. No need to worry about me, it’s just my first party.”

Akaashi beside you ruffles your hair, “He has a reason to be worried, you’re a little too sweet for your own good.”

you scrunch up your nose, mentally disagreeing. you could certainly be mean. but they had yet to see you at your worst, so this made sense. you decide to let them keep this image of you.

Bokuto barrels forward, knocking into your back as you stumble into Kuroo’s arms. he catches you with ease, sending a glare towards his friend.

“Watch it, are you drunk already?”

Bokuto grins, “Pre-gamed a little too hard! My bad, bro.” he pauses, looking at you, “And the lady-bro.”

you stifle a giggle at his words, focusing on the warmth that emits from Kuroo. you suddenly regret wearing something that showed more skin, knowing you got cold easily.

“Tetsu, can we get drinks?” you grab his bicep gently as he looks down.

“Yeah, yeah. Let me just say hi to some of the guys and we’ll go.” he waits for Akaashi to come to your other side before walking, with you squashed between them.

you roll your eyes, what was up with them? it was your first time attending a university party, not your first time at a club.

you greet people mindlessly, and they all seem nice enough. you get restless after twenty minutes though, really wanting a drink. you tug Kuroo’s shirt gently, waiting for him to turn to you.

“I’m gonna go get a drink, you want anything?”

he frowns, “I’ll come, give me a sec.” he doesn’t wait for a response before excusing himself from his friends. they all wave him off as he guides you to another room in the house, which is more secluded.

you find the table, filled with all sorts of stuff you were unfamiliar with. one of Kuroo’s friends stands by, and you assume he’s keeping an eye on the beverages to ensure nobody spikes them with anything.

Kuroo gives him a quick nod before reaching for a bottle. he must know what he’s doing, however, as he pours you a mixture of two drinks before handing it to you. you take it with narrowed eyes, lifting it to your nose and oh, it smells fruity enough.

you down it in one go, looking back at Kuroo’s slackened jaw. you bark out a loud laugh, before covering it with your hand. “What?”

he shakes his head, “Nothing, nothing. Didn’t know you were so thirsty.”

you shrug in response, mindlessly scanning the room as Kuroo pours himself a drink.

despite the room being half empty, it is still fairly large. you can see a group playing beer pong on the left side, while the ones on the right are laughing loudly as they seemingly discuss something funny.

and then, your eyes land on him.

he’s standing with who you assume is his friend, with their back towards you. he’s leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, and the position allows his navy blue shirt to stretch with the muscle. you swallow when your eyes trail down to his slim waist.

broad shoulders and a small waist? surely that had to be illegal.

his black pants are loose, but fit his thighs nicely.

when your eyes go back to his face, you’re once again filled with the urge to pick up your pencil and draw. he’s not smiling, and you have a feeling he doesn’t smile very often, but it doesn’t take away from his beauty. his cheekbones are pretty and prominent, and you wonder how they would feel beneath your palms.

you bite on your bottom lip at the thought, feeling foolish for thinking about a stranger like that.

“Oh? Does my little Y/n have a crush?” a voice croons next to your ear.

you whip your head back with a glare, “Tetsu, no.”

he laughs loudly, head throwing back as he cackles. you frown, scrunching your nose at him even if he’s too busy laughing to see.

“Oh, c’mon cutie, I’m just teasing. Nothing wrong with a little crush, I would just recommend someone a little… nicer.” he says, out of breath as a grin stretches on his face.

you tilt your head, “Huh? You know him?“

Kuroo ruffles your hair gently, with you moving to fix it immediately.

“We aren’t close, but I do know him since he’s on the same team as me,” Kuroo smiles at the wide eyed look you give him. “i’d say i’m closer with his friend over there.”

when you glance back to the pair, you find that the pretty boy has his eyes on you.

your heart jumps, your body shivering as you snap your eyes back to Kuroo.

what the fuck? maybe you hallucinated that.

“Oh, your man is looking here.”

maybe not.

“Hey, want me to introduce you? Who knows, you might be able to defrost his heart.” he smirks, with you shaking your head to disagree. “No, thank you. I’m not going to defrost his heart like he’s some piece of frozen raw meat.”

he huffs out a laugh, turning into a cough when his eyes partially widen. “Well, you should prepare yourself, they’re both coming here right now.”

you look at Kuroo with an incredulous expression, “You’re fucking lying.”

“Such a foul mouth, cutie.” he lifts his hand up and looks beside you, “Hey, man.” he waves. he nods at the pretty boy next, who you assume nods back.

you finally allow yourself to look away from Kuroo and at the two new men in front of you. they’re both tall, but thankfully you’re used to being surrounded by tall men due to your friends.

you smile at the friend and glance at the pretty boy for a second, “Hi, I’m Y/n.” you’re thankful you manage to sound stable.

“I’m Adriah.” his friend says with a half grin. it’s boyish and charming, but you’re more concerned with the curly-haired guy beside him. your eyes dart to his next, anticipating an introduction.

“Sakusa Kiyoomi.”

his voice is deep, it’s almost alluring. it reminds you of the dark chocolate you often pick up from the convenience store beside your dorm; bitter but comforting.

you always loved dark chocolate.

the thought makes your heart do a funny thing and your chest seize up.

✾

a year and a half later, you kiss Sakusa Kiyoomi for the first time.

you’re close friends by now, perhaps even best friends. you know him like the back of your hand; no, you know better than you know yourself.

you know his arms are covered in beauty marks, ones you’d like to trace with your lips. you know how his hair looks when he first awakens, eyes swollen and lips puffed out in a pout. you know his favorite food, and how he likes his coffee in the morning. you know he sighs through his nose when he’s feeling overstimulated, you know his lips press together when he’s about to say something mean. you know he crosses his arms when he feels like he needs to protect himself, you even know the brand of disinfecting wipes he prefers to buy.

you know he has a dimple on his left cheek when he smiles, you know how his lips stretch out all pretty when he’s caught off guard. you know the low timbre in his chest when he laughs, his thick steel walls suddenly nowhere to be seen as he allows himself to relax.

“Kiyo, please? I really want to go, and nobody else wants to come!” you beg, voice sad as you sit on the edge of his bed.

it’s 12:00PM, and Kiyoomi is still laying in bed. you understand, it is a Saturday, but you wanted to go out and visit the cat cafe with supposedly amazing tiramisu.

the lump on the bed barley moves, “Oh great, so I’m your last choice. I’ll pass.”

you smile, giggling. “No, you were my first choice, but you said no so I asked other people and they also refused, so now I came back to you!”

he lifts the covers, sitting up. he’s shirtless, and the sight of his bare body covered in pretty beauty marks makes your brain short-circuit. you turn away, huffing. “Put on a shirt you… perv.”

you hear a pretty laugh then, your head immediately turning back to catch the rare sight. he shakes his head, small grin still on his face, “I’m the perv? Not the one who’s red in the face and can’t even look me in the eye?”

you blink harshly, “I can look at you! I’m just… respecting your boundaries.”

you turn away again, crossing your arms. you hear the covers on the bed shuffle, and when you slowly turn around, you find yourself much closer to Kiyoomi than you thought.

you blink, moving to give him space and tumbling off the bed in the process with a yelp. he grabs you with wide eyes, moving so he takes the brunt of the fall.

you land on top of him, watching as he groans in pain below you. your hands are resting on his broad shoulders, and they feel smooth beneath your hands.

he sighs, laying his head on the floor. he looks up at you through lidded eyes. “So what now, genius? You made us fall.”

you shoot him a dirty look, “Well nobody told you to fall with me.”

“This is the ‘thank you’ I get? Next time I’ll let you get hurt, brat.” he rolls his eyes with a scoff.

you pout, bottom lip pushing out. “You’d let me fall and get hurt?”

he stares at you intently, not answering. you take the time to observe his face, wanting to burn the memory into your brain. you like the small bump on his nose. you like the way his bottom lip is slightly bigger than the top. you like the way his skin turns red easily, his cheeks often sporting a pretty blush even from the slightest chilly air. you like his thick curly hair, wondering how it would feel in your hands. you like his eyes too, dark and swirling with emotions you’ve yet to unravel and discover.

suddenly realizing your proximity, your eyes dart to his lips. plush and full, they look so inviting. you subconsciously lick your bottom lip, glancing up to find his eyes are also on your mouth. and when he finally looks you in the eye, you know if you don’t make a move now, you never will.

you lean in, slowly, and with a gentle exhale, you press your lips to his.

✾

a month later, you have sex with Kiyoomi.

it comes naturally, you think. soft kisses shared with hushed whispers were no longer enough. it led to heated touches and lust-filled eyes.

so when the two of you end up going further, you have no complaints.

he treats you exactly how you’d like, gentle in some ways and rough in others. you like the feel of his calloused hands caressing your skin, the rough bumps making him more attractive than you already thought he was.

and then you’re laying in bed, sweaty and covered in fluid. but his mattress is so comfortable, and your eyelids feel heavy.

“Y/n, we need to shower.”

“One minute.” you mumble quietly.

you feel a hand gently move hair out of your face, subconsciously leaning into the warmth of his palm. it’s gone before you can speak, and you have to force the whine down your throat.

you hear a sigh, and then feel a strong arm slide underneath your knees with the other behind your back as you are lifted into the air.

you squeak, hands scrambling to latch onto his neck. you look up at Kiyoomi with wide eyes, “Seriously, Kiyo? I can still walk, you jackass.”

he shakes his head with a small grin, and your hands itch to grab his face and kiss him senseless. “Are you sure you can walk? I’m not sure you can after all that.”

you change your mind, you want to slap him senseless.

“Ha-ha. So. Funny.” you deadpan, unable to help yourself and breaking into a smile when you feel his shoulders shake as he chuckles.

when the two of you are in bed, freshly washed and ready to sleep, Kiyoomi breaks your heart for the first time.

you’re laying your head on his chest, heartbeat steady and comforting as it almost lulls you to sleep.

his voice pulls you back, “Y/n,”

you hum in response.

“I don’t want you to misunderstand, I care about you, but I’m not looking for anything serious right now.” the words are spoken softly, but they cut through your heart nonetheless.

your body freezes, and you have to force yourself to relax when you realize he can feel it.

so what if Kiyoomi isn’t ready to date? you’re okay with kissing him, going out with him, and sleeping with him. you’re okay with that and not having a label. you’re okay with not being exclusive.

you’re okay with having him to this extent.

you’re okay.

“I understand. Don’t worry, Kiyoomi.”

✾

five months later, everything is the same.

and yet, nothing is the same.

“I don’t like this, Y/n. I think you should break things off with him.” Kuroo frowns, leaning into Akaashi’s side as he hogs the blanket to himself in the freezing cold apartment.

you pull your own fluffy throw closer, “There’s nothing to break off, Tetsu. There’s no label.”

Bokuto walks in, clad in a black tank top and volleyball shorts. “You can break off this unlabeled arrangement you have, Y/n! Just call it exactly that!” he smiles, hands on his hips standing proudly.

Akaashi coughs, “Bo, please put your air conditioning lower. We’re all going to get sick at this rate.”

Bokuto frowns, hands dropping to his sides. he walks to the thermostat, “Seriously? I think the temperature is fine.”

“That’s because you’re not human, you beast.” Kuroo snorts.

Bokuto turns around, looking scandalized. “I’m not a beast! You two are just weenies!”

you giggle, “Thank you for not including me with them, Kou.”

he salutes you with a cute little grin.

so maybe your friends were against your… situation with Kiyoomi. but you knew what you were doing, and while he might not want a relationship right now, you’re sure you can change his mind over time.

naive, perhaps, but you’ve always been a romantic at heart.

✾

everything comes to a head at one of their volleyball games.

you’re invited, of course. being friends with a few of the boys had allowed you to show up earlier and get seats in the front row.

it’s not your first game, but you’re excited nonetheless.

until you see Kiyoomi with someone unfamiliar.

she’s pretty, almost unearthly pretty. her hair is long, and cascades down her back like those magical waterfalls one would find deep in the forest. her smile is perfect, not crooked in the slightest. and when she greets him, her dainty hand smoothes over the skin of his arm; you walk faster.

Kuroo greets you first, with Akaashi and Bokuto coming behind him. you give them all your best wishes, but you can’t stop the uneasy feeling in your stomach at the sight of Sakusa with that girl.

when Akaashi sees your line of sight, he grimaces sympathetically. “Ah, that’s one of his friends from high school.”

your eyes shoot to his, and you wonder what expression you’re showing, because he comes closer and wraps you in a hug. you release a breath at the touch, letting yourself relax as he pats your back.

when you go to greet Sakusa, the girl is still there.

she’s sticking to him like a leech.

you try to get rid of the rude thoughts as you approach. she didn’t deserve your jealousy, nobody did. because you did this to yourself.

“Hi, Kiyo.” you smile.

he smiles back at you, and though it is small, it’s there. something in you settles when you think about how far the two of you have gotten.

the girl beside him is looking at the two of you curiously, but all you do is give her an awkward grin and turn back to Kiyoomi.

“Um, I just wanted to say good luck. I have a surprise for you, i’ll give it to you after the game.”

he raises a brow, intrigued. “You can’t give it to me now?”

you huff out a laugh. “No, silly. It’s a reward for you playing today. I know you’ll do well regardless of the outcome.”

his face smoothes out as he nods, “Okay, I’ll be waiting then.”

without another word you wave and turn around, walking to the seats and taking one in the front. you feel odd being the first to leave, but it was clear that the girl was not going to her seat until the game started. and while you’d like to talk to Kiyoomi more, you know you have to control yourself before you do something stupid like show him your jealousy.

the game goes by quickly, with your university winning the match. you cheer loudly, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt. it’s times like these that you truly cherish the joy in life. even though you hadn’t played in the game yourself, you can practically feel the positive energy radiating off of the players, and it fills you with excitement.

you run down and across the court, moving to hug your friends as you congratulate them.

“Y/n are you going to come with us to get dinner? Please say yes!” Bokuto widens his eyes, bottom lip curling into a pout.

you smile, happy to be included but knowing you have to decline. “Sorry, Kou. I already have plans with Kiyoomi. Can we raincheck?”

he nods sadly, and Akaashi pats him on the back in consolation.

“Have fun at dinner! I’m going to find Kiyoomi.” you wait till they exit the gymnasium before turning around and looking for the tall dark-haired man you were enamored with.

you can’t seem to find him through the crowd and the thought has you frowning anxiously. you stumble inside the group of people, breathing out when you finally see the end of the mob. with another exhale, you look up.

you see red.

because there is Kiyoomi, with the small pretty girl in his arms as she wraps her own around his neck. their faces lean in together, and if you didn’t know any better you’d assume they were about to kiss.

without even knowing what you’re doing, you march right up and grab his arm, tugging him into you with as much force as you can muster.

he looks down at you with wide eyes, and even though his hair is damp with sweat and his shirt is sticking to his skin, you find him to be the prettiest in the room.

suddenly realizing how this looked, you let go of his arm and step back. “What were you two doing?” you ask, voice soft yet loud enough for him to hear. the crowd has begun to disperse, leaving only the team and their friends in the gymnasium.

the girl looks awkward, glancing between you and Kiyoomi before taking a step back. “Uh, I’m gonna get going now. I’ll text you later, ‘Omi.”

your eye twitches at the nickname, and when Kiyoomi simply nods at her, you feel like you’re losing your mind.

he says nothing to you as he moves to pack his things, stuffing his towel in his bag and throwing it over his shoulder. he doesn’t even glance at you as he walks out, with you trailing after him like a lost puppy.

the walk to his apartment is short, but because of the silence it feels much longer; much more painful, like every step is with your bare foot onto glass.

when you finally arrive at his place, he shuts the door and tosses his gym bag to the side before turning to you.

“Want to explain what that was?” his face is cold, and the uncaring way he speaks to you makes you nervous.

you swallow, “Shouldn’t you explain? Why were her arms… Why did it look like you two were dating, or something? Why did you let her touch you like that?”

he chuckles, though it has none of the sweetness that it is normally laced with. “Why the fuck does it matter? You’re not my girlfriend.”

surprisingly, the words don’t hurt as much as you thought they would. no, you knew that already. what really makes your skin burn is the way he looks at you.

you feel dread creep up on you, goosebumps arising on your skin as you shiver. the look in his eyes is unforgiving, a stark contrast to the normally fond gaze you are granted with.

maybe that’s why it twists the metaphorical knife that is lodged in your stomach, scarlet blood seeping out as the squelch rings in your ears. it feels far too real, you can almost see him holding the knife as it digs deeper into your flesh.

“I never liked that about you.”

it's vague, but you feel like you understand what he means regardless. you ask him to clarify despite yourself. “Never liked what?” you whisper. your hands are shaking; you hold them behind your back to conceal it.

“The way you act around me. Like we’re in a loving relationship when really, we’re just friends who sleep together sometimes.” the words spoken are firm, leaving no room for you to even question whether he means them or not.

“I’m sorry?” you sound breathless, asking him to confirm what he had already said.

his eyes darken further, and you swallow harshly at the sight.

“You need me to say more to get it through your thick skull?” he scoffs, furious, and the sound cuts into your already wounded heart.

“I don’t like the way you coddle me. I don’t appreciate when you give me your opinions on things you know nothing about.” he pauses. you wait with bated breath, wondering how much more your heart could take.

“And, god, I really fucking hate when you show up at my games and smother me in front of everyone. It’s uncomfortable, and then you put me on the spot and act like you’re my fucking girlfriend.”

it feels like someone has plunged their hand through your chest, tearing you apart as they grasp onto your beating heart; you can almost picture it, the way the mangled organ thumps erratically as crimson liquid seeps out between their fingers.

you inhale shakily, “I just… I love you, I’m sorry.”

you look up, to see who’s holding your heart hostage.

“I don’t love you. I never have, and I never will.”

it’s him.

and fuck, it’s always him.

✾

two summers from now, Sakusa knows he’ll be playing volleyball professionally, for the first time.

he’ll have finished his fourth year of university, and he will be happy.

happiness.

Sakusa doesn’t exactly understand the emotion. sure, he’s felt anxiety, rage, and satisfaction, but happiness? what did that even entail?

he sits silently, trying to drone out the professors talks of another essay, and suddenly regrets taking a psychology class. because the amount of writing it required was a bit too much, even for him.

and then his thoughts go back to happiness.

oftentimes, Sakusa is told he looks mean; grouchy. and yet, he remembers an old conversation with Atsumu.

“So… you and Y/n?” Atsumu drawled.

Sakusa sighs, moving to pack up his things in the locker room. “It’s not like that, don’t go spreading anything.”

the blond raises his hands in mock surrender, wet hair sticking to his forehead. “Hey! I would never!”

and then he grins, though not as obnoxious as usual. it’s more kind, if anything, and Sakusa doesn’t know what to make of it.

“I’m just saying, ya seem a lot less grumpy these days. Happier.”

Sakusa pauses, staring at the chipped paint on the wall.

Atsumu sighs, swinging his bag over his shoulder as he moves to exit. “She’s good for ya, ‘Omi.” he pats his shoulder twice on his way out. “Don’t fuck it up, man.”

Sakusa stiffens; not at the action, but at his words. he quickly places everything in his bag before zipping it up and heading home.

if he’s a bit dazed at practice the next day, no one says anything.

when Sakusa lays in bed, he recounts the last time he spoke to you.

it’s been two weeks, and even though time has passed, it feels like just yesterday you were standing in his kitchen with your heart on your sleeve, letting him use it however he wished.

he remembers feeling furious at you, for so obviously disrespecting one of his good high school friends. and then you hadn’t even apologized, you’d instead pushed at him even more.

and then… he ruined everything.

he remembers the look on your face, the pure heartbreak in your irises as he carelessly spewed words he knew would hurt you.

it was not surprising when he walked into practice two days later to see glares of contempt by some of his teammates, who he knew were your friends. even Atsumu had looked at him and shook his head, and some part of him burned with shame. his mistakes were on display for everyone to see, and although he wanted to pull his walls even higher, he felt too distraught at the potential loss of you to bother.

he remembers laying in bed that night, finally deciding to break the silence between the two of you. but with a simple, ‘I’m sorry. Can we talk?’ he was able to find out that he was blocked.

he felt ice run through his veins, pausing at the vibrant red letters, spelling Not Delivered. he quickly opened Instagram and Twitter and found you had him removed and blocked there as well.

fuck.

he had really done it now, hadn’t he? he so naively believed that you simply needed space, and once he gave you a sincere apology the two of you could go back to the way things were; that you two could explore whatever non-platonic feelings he was beginning to develop for you.

but once he realizes the gravity of the situation, he wonders what the point is of experiencing love for the first time if it ends here.

it can’t end here.

he makes it his mission to try to meet you.

first he showed up to your Thursday class, knowing it ended at noon and you had a two-hour gap between your next one. he has a coffee in one hand and a freshly baked donut in the other. he drove across town to grab it, knowing it was your favourite. he knows a mere donut cannot make up for what he said to you, but it felt wrong coming empty handed to reconcile with you. not when you deserved everything and more.

except when you see him, you immediately turn and walk in the opposite direction.

the action stings, and he sighs once you are out of view. the bag with the donut in his hand feels heavy, his hand tingling with the rejection. he knew you wouldn’t forgive him so easily, but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

I deserve this, he acknowledges.

I deserve this and worse.

it’s the next week when he has the chance to see you again; he knows you’re working, often meeting you at the cafe to pick you up and take you to his place home.

so with a deep breath, he walks in. the door bell chimes loudly, and he curses mentally when he realizes how deserted the place is at the moment. there’s only a few people inside; a man sitting in the corner as he types furiously on his laptop. a woman and two others sitting on the side as they sip on what he assumes is coffee or tea.

and then he looks to the front, where you stand, and your eyes are on him.

the moment he takes a step forward, you stumble back, as if burned. he stops, unsure if he should keep walking or simply say something as he stands ten feet away from you.

unfortunately for him, you seem to come back to reality and swiftly open the door where it explicitly states STAFF. a moment later, one of your coworkers walks out with their customer service smile, and he deflates.

third time’s a charm, he says to comfort himself. but even he knows it won’t be that easy.

it’s friday, and even though he had no idea if you’d be home, he figured it was worth a shot. so that’s how he finds himself at your door, with a bouquet of white Tulips in his arms.

“Hi! Is there anything I can help you with?”

he jumps slightly when he hears a high-pitched voice coming from behind him, turning around and smoothing out his face.

“I’m not sure.��� he states quietly.

“That’s okay! Is there anything in specific you’re looking for? A colour, or a meaning, perhaps?”

he frowns; it feels like all he’s been doing is frowning lately. “Uh, maybe something bright? Or… something that symbolizes forgiveness?”

she smiles sympathetically, and he wonders what expression he must be showing to warrant such a response from a stranger.

and that’s how he finds himself here. he shuffles on his feet, clutching the flowers to his chest protectively. with a soft inhale, he raises his fist and knocks.

silence.

he rings the doorbell this time, and still nothing.

he exhales quietly, his head dropping as he stares at the old carpet that covered the hallways in your apartment building. he’s been here so many times with you, but now he sees nothing but the back of your door and he has nobody but himself to blame.

he stands in front of your place for an hour, mindlessly staring at the wall as he recalls his words to you. how you’d handed your heart to him with your bare hands, only for him to treat it as though it meant nothing to him.

so on Sunday, he lays in bed and recounts the last two weeks.

he wants to wallow in self-pity, but then he hears banging on his door and wonders which unlucky soul will encounter his wrath.

he swings the door open, face emotionless and mouth ready to open and hurl insults at the other, until he sees his one and only cousin, Komori.

“Hey man!” his cousin smiles, innocent and happy.

Sakusa hates it.

his shoulders slump as all anger vanishes, exhaustion left in its wake. “What are you doing here, Moyota,”

he walks back to his room as Komori closes the door. “because if you can’t tell, i’m busy.”

Komori snorts, “Busy doing what? Moping?”

Sakusa glares at him, but in his disheveled state he merely looks like a feral wounded puppy. he crawls back under his covers, face smushed inside his pillow as he feels the other side of the bed dip.

“Get your outside clothes off my bed, Moyota.”

he hears a huff before the pressure is gone, and wills himself to sleep.

“Listen, I know you’re upset about what happened with Y/n, but sitting in your sadness won’t get you anywhere.”

Sakusa continues to lay there. “Mhm.”

Komori ignores the dry response, “There’s a party on Friday. You should go.”

“Why should I go to a party? You want me to drink my sorrows away?” his voice comes out muffled but he’s sure Komori can hear him regardless.

“Y/n will be there.”

that gets his attention. he sits up, the covers pooling at his waist as he crosses his arms. “How do you know?” his eyes narrow.

Komori rolls his eyes, “Because, I overheard Kuroo asking her to come on the phone. Something about him finding her someone new to replace you.”

he clenches his fists, feeling the burn of jealousy take over. replace him? he knew you were well-liked in your program, often waving at people whenever the two of you walked together on campus. he was not ignorant of the stares you’d get from fellow students. but it didn’t matter then because he knew his eyes were on you, and yours were on him.

but now everything’s different.

now, your eyes are not solely on him. the thought has his chest hurting in a way that he can only describe as a stabbing pain.

“I’ll go.”

✾

the week passes by too slow for Sakusa, but he knows it’s only because he’s missing you. when friday arrives, he’s feeling somewhat optimistic about meeting you and hopefully reconciling.

he scrunches the products in his hair, freshly washed from the shower. he’s wearing black slacks and a matching button-up. he places a few rings on his hands and moves to dry his hair with a cotton t-shirt once more before exiting his room.

“About time, dude. Why is your hair routine so complicated?” his cousin complains from his place on the couch, looking at him expectantly.

Sakusa grabs his keys on the counter, “My hair isn’t pin-straight, that’s why. Why are you still sitting down, let’s go.”

Komori rises with a shake of his head as he walks to the front door and slips on his shoes. Sakusa waits for him to leave before locking the door and following him to his car.

the drive seems unreasonably fast, and his palms feel sweaty as he wipes them on his pants. he’s suddenly thankful he chose to wear black bottoms.

when he walks inside the house, he’s immediately hit with the smell of alcohol and sweat. it’s absolutely disgusting, and he has to remind himself why he’s there as he takes another step forward.

“Let’s go to the back! It’ll be less busy there!” Komori raises his voice, but Sakusa can just barely hear his words. he nods and follows his cousin to another room, breathing out in relief when he notices there are fewer people.

Sakusa subtly shuffles towards an empty corner, knowing Komori is following him. he turns around, leaning on the wall, “These people are revolting. When is Y/n getting here?”

Komori scratches his head, tapping at his phone with one hand. “Not sure, let me check with my friends. I’ll ask where Kuroo is.”

he scowls, “Why would that matter?”

“Because he wouldn’t leave her alone at a party.” Komori shrugs. “They’re real close.”

something in his chest feels tight at his cousins words. you and Sakusa were once close; and if you forgave him, he’d let you be even closer. he just has to apologize and hopefully smooth everything over.

a part of him itches to go and search for you himself. he feels on edge, knowing you are so close yet so far away. it unsettles him, the thought that if you don’t forgive him he’ll have to watch you from afar, and accept that someone will love and care for you all the ways he didn’t.

but - does he love you? he cares for you, immensely at that. but does he love you?

he thinks about your pretty eyes, always filled with affection. he thinks about your ability to make people feel comfortable around you within minutes. he thinks about your small hands, your shy smile, the feeling of your hair when he twirls a lock around his finger as you lay in his bed. he thinks about how you look with the sun seeping through the crack in the curtains, skin glowing and lips slightly parted as you exhale softly.

his heart beat echos in his ears. he feels a flush take over his face and places the back of his hand on his forehead. he suddenly feels hot.

maybe he has a fever? but so suddenly? he swallows, the sound echoing in his head.

and then he finally sees you, drink in hand as you throw your head back and laugh.

his heart beats loudly in his chest.

he places a hand above it, feeling the erratic thumps beneath his palm.

ah.

so he loves you.

-

Sakusa waits.

he waits in the corner, a drink in his hand, courtesy of Komori as he subtly stares at you from across the room.

it’s been about an hour, and you’ve yet to notice him. he cherishes the time, observing you from afar. he watches you giggle and wrap your arms around your friends, the gaping hole you’d left in his heart the moment you walked out of his life grows by the minute.

he’s contemplating what to do when you finally lock eyes with him.

he watches the smile slowly slip off your face, something akin to agony colouring your eyes.

he begins to walk towards you, not breaking eye contact for a second. it's like he's entranced. and when he’s right in front of you, he feels breathless; like your existence has left him at a loss for words.

“Hey.”

his voice comes out rough, and he clears his throat when your lips tug downwards.

your friends are looking at him with distaste, even Bokuto who normally sports a happy grin seems fairly upset. it makes him realize what a huge fuck-up he is.

he shifts on his feet, “Can we talk?”

Kuroo answers for you. “No, you can’t. You’ve said enough to her.” he steps in front of you, shoulders pushed back.

Sakusa feels irritation bubble in his chest, but pushes it down, knowing that Kuroo has a reason to be protective over you.

“I just want to apologize. And, confess something.” his voice comes out more desperate than he thought it would. it sounds fragile, even to his own ears.

Kuroo deflates, if only slightly. “It’s still a no. Find someone else to mess around with.”

“I'm not messing around. I just, I need to talk to her. Please.” the cup in his hand is beginning to bend, the cheap plastic cracking as the drink sloshes around.

Kuroo opens his mouth to what he assumes refuse him again, until a small hand grabs onto his arm and steps in front of him.

he watches as you let go of Kuroo, looking more composed than you had been before.

“It’s okay, Tetsu. I can handle this.” your voice makes his skin tingle. he realizes how much he’s missed it.

Sakusa’s shoulders drop in relief. he feels so happy that you decided to talk to him, he doesn’t even care that your friends are glaring him down.

“But-”

you cut Kuroo off, “Really, it’s fine. I’ll text you if I need anything.”

Kuroo looks like he wants to argue, but you give him a look that has him backing down.

he huffs, “Fine. Just be careful. Call me if he does anything.”

Sakusa stops himself from scoffing, annoyed with Kuroo’s words. what would he do at this point? what could he possibly do to make things worse than they already are?

you pat Kuroo on the arm and walk past Sakusa, turning back. “Let’s go.” you don’t wait for a response before continuing, and he follows you without a glance at your friends.

he tries to control his breathing, attempting to keep it steady as you enter the backyard. it’s empty, the chilly night air keeping everyone inside.

you turn around, crossing your arms. “So? You wanted to talk?”

he licks his lips, rubbing his forearm with his hand. he’s thankful that he threw his drink out at the garbage can near the back door. he can feel his hands shaking, and hopes you don’t notice.

“Yeah.” he exhales, “How have you been?”

you shrug, expression guarded. “Fine.”

he nods, expecting the dry answer but still feeling a bit dejected.

“I miss you.”

the words come out so abruptly. the two of you stare at each other in shock, and he almost raises a hand to cover his mouth.

god, why did he just say that?

you laugh, but it comes out less genuine than he’s ever seen. “You should be happy you don’t have someone pretending to be your girlfriend, right?”

his face drops, and he knows whatever expression he’s showing is not as stoic as he thought. because with one glance at his face you look like you almost regret your words.

“I was.. I was so fucking stupid that night. I know you have no obligation to forgive me, but please let me apologize.”

you stare at him silently, before nodding.

Sakusa breathes out, “I’m sorry. Nothing I said was true. I was just… angry. Not at you, at myself. I had been denying how I felt for so long and when you asked me who that girl was, I just lost it.”

he stares at the grass rather than your face, not wanting to know if you look at him with an unforgiving gaze. “I realized that I had unintentionally entered a sort of- relationship with you. I was scared. I still am.”

he lifts his gaze finding your wide eyes. “It was an unintentional relationship, but I wouldn’t have done anything different.”

he pauses, “Of course, except when I ruined everything. I’ve stayed up every night since it happened thinking about how I could have responded differently.” his lips tug up, the expression bitter.

“Because it was after that I realized my feelings for you.”

your brows furrow, your eyes darting around his face in pure confusion. “What are you saying, Sakusa?”

he ignores the ache of you using his last name, “That I have feelings for you.”

the silence is deafening as crickets chirp in the silent night.

“I love you, Y/n.”

you stagger back, as if wounded. you shake your head, “No, no. You don’t love me, Sakusa.”

he doesn’t understand your response. sure, you wouldn’t be elated. he knew you were still upset. but you look like you genuinely don’t believe him, like you refuse to believe him. he feels like he’s going to collapse if you walk away without acknowledging his feelings.

“What? I’m serious, Y/n. I love you.” he reaches a hand out, drawing back when you flinch.

“I’m in love with you.” he whispers.

you look at him, as though he has caused you immense pain, before turning away and running back into the house.

Sakusa stands there, alone in the dark.

he wonders if love is supposed to be so painful; if he will always be the one to inflict the pain, cause the heartache, and leave everything in ruins.

✾

"Shit." you curse as you stare at the empty fridge in front of you. an old bar of havarti cheese and two stale apples stare mockingly at you.

so perhaps you haven't gone grocery shopping in quite a while, but you've been busy! with assignments, your friends, and... Sakusa, you have had too much on your head to worry about things like restocking your fridge.

but now it's nearly midnight, and you have yet to eat dinner. your stomach rumbles at you, and you press a hand to it in annoyance.

you can skip a meal, it's not the end of the world.

but then your stomach rumbles again, and it's starting to feel extremely uncomfortable.

you check your phone, just to see if you can order in. but with one glance at the delivery price, you click your phone off. you stare at the sad-looking apples and cheese once more, making up your mind.

the convenience store is about a ten-minute walk, five if you run.

without another thought, you grab a hoodie from the coat rack and put it on. you pick up your apartment keys and slip into your shoes, bracing yourself for the cold air.

the walk ends up being somewhat soothing, the normally lively city is quieter. you use the time to think about your relationship - or lack thereof, with Sakusa. you still remember when he professed his love for you two weeks ago.

you remember rushing back into the party and telling your friends you had to leave. Kuroo drove you home, and you spent the night eating leftover icecream and binging Jujutsu Kaisen.

why couldn't you date someone like Gojo?

but then you think someone calmer, more steady would suit your personality well. someone who you could rely on and with a bit of sarcasm perhaps. someone who has dark hair; you always liked curly hair on men.

someone like him.

Sakusa Kiyoomi.

your thoughts are cut off when you finally get to the store. the lights are bright underneath the dark sky, the bell chiming when you open the door. you quickly grab a few rice balls, and walk to the cashier. it takes you a total of three minutes to get what you want, before you're walking back out with a plastic bag in hand.

you look up as you walk, the stars twinkling prettily. they remind you of his eyes.

you really wish you could stop thinking about him.

Sakusa makes you feel like you've caught a never-ending sickness. like you will wake up each day with your chest in pain, with your eyes swollen from crying paired with your unstable emotions.

its exhausting, you think; caring about people to a point where they cannot understand or reciprocrate your feelings. and then you always end up like this. alone. you wonder how long it will take for the other people you cherish to leave you too.

your thoughts come to a halt when you hear footsteps behind you.

its dark outside, the streetlights only providing a dim yellow glow as you walk. when you turn your head, you notice a man in a hood. your heart immediately plummets.

fuck, what had you been thinking? you should have ordered delivery, screw the price! the money wasn't worth your life.

you walk faster, noticing the person speeding up their steps. your breathing is becoming heavier, and you can feel your legs trembling as you continue to walk. you know you can't go home, otherwise he will know where you live.

you make a detour to head to a park you've been to many times. it was about a five-minute walk from your place, and the thought has you walking faster anxiously.

when you hear his footsteps draw closer, you turn your head and see he is much closer than before.

your breath hitches, and you find yourself tearing up in fear.

you are about to resort to an offensive stance, prepared to swing your bag of riceballs at his head when you bump into something.

you gasp loudly, flinching so harshly at the suddenness of the situation. you look up, finding familiar dark eyes. they look at you with bewilderment, but all you can think about is the pure relief that pools in your stomach, the tears building up in your eyes finally falling.

you rush forward and wrap your arms around him, breathing in the familiar scent. your shoulders are trembling, but they calm slightly when you feel an arm wrap around your waist and the other smooth over your upper back.

he looks over your shoulder, and you are unsure what expression he is showing. "Did you need something?" his voice comes out deep and - angry. you wonder if you are hallucinating the protectiveness that coats his tone. his arms tighten around you further, causing you to relax in his embrace.

you wait, body stuck to his. you hear footsteps retreating, and breathe out shakily.

"He's gone." he says, voice low.

you nod, but you stay in your position for a few minutes, content to bury yourself in his embrace after such a terrifying situation.

"Kiyoomi?" you look up, placing your hands on his chest.

he tilts his head downwards, "Are you okay? He didn't do anything, did he?" his brows are furrowed, lips pursed. he looks extremely concerned, and you feel surprised that he seems to care about you so much.

you shake your head slowly, "No, he didn't do anything. I'm - i'm fine." you lick your lips, trying to convince yourself to believe your own words.

Sakusa doesn't answer you, but he does turn his head and glance back before looking down at you. "I'll walk you home. Are you okay to walk? I can carry you."

you don't have much energy left, but you manage to laugh anyway. "I can walk, thank you."

you gently push at his chest, even though you want to continue to stay in his arms. you don't have that privilege any longer, and you shouldn't have assumed you had it in the first place.

you nod, however, and accept his offer to walk you home. you'll let yourself be selfish just this once, and then you'll let him go.

the walk back is silent, but Sakusa sticks close to you. you feel safe with him next to you, regardless of the fact that he hurt you so deeply.

he seems to protect you from others, but never from himself and his words. you sigh tiredly at the thought.

when you get to your apartment, he insists on walking you up. once at your door, you look at him and shuffle on your feet awkwardly.

"Uh, thanks for helping me back there and walking me home. I'll go inside now." you reach for your doorknob but he grabs your hand, pulling you closer. his head dips down, and he closes his eyes with a sigh.

"Please, just talk to me. I can't handle this." his voice makes you shiver, and you curse your body for reacting that way to him.

you lick your lips, "Can't handle what?"

he opens his eyes, tilting his head further down to catch your gaze. "You being mad at me. You ignoring me. Please, tell me what I need to do to fix this."

the two of you are standing so close, your cheeks heat up at the proximity. he still makes you so nervous after two years of knowing him, and the thought has you annoyed with your weak heart.

a shaky breath escapes your lips. "I don't know. You really hurt me, Sakusa."

he looks at you, face pained. like you being upset is causing him pain, and your chest aches to make him feel better.

"I'm sorry, I love you."

the words bring you back to that night, where you bared your heart to him and he trampled on it without a thought. you feel the urge to let more tears slip out, but you are tired of crying over people that do not care for you. you are tired of being the one that loves more.

but he looks different now. his eyes are filled with remorse, and you want to kiss his frown away. maybe, just maybe, this time you wouldn't be the one who loved too much for their own good.

he wipes a thumb underneath your eye, swiping over your cheek. you hadn't even realized you were crying until the concern in his face grew. it makes you feel embarrassed and angry at yourself, but you can’t find it in you to refuse his comfort.

"You don't mean that, Kiyoomi." your voice cracks involuntarily.

he shakes his head pushing your foreheads closer to one another. "I do, I mean it. I'll say it a million times until you believe me."

you huff out a shaky breath. "A million times is a bit dramatic."

"I'd do it for you." he moves his head to the side, pressing a kiss to your temple. the action has butterflies erupting in your stomach, unused to something so innocently romantic.

"You realize we have a lot to talk about? It won't be easy. I can't forgive you so quickly." you lean closer, tilting your head up.

he leans his head downwards. "I know. I'm sorry, just give me a chance and we can talk about it. I'll work hard to make you forgive me." the words are whispered close to your lips, his breath hitting your face. the minty scent is so Kiyoomi, it has your heart fluttering.

you know you have a lot to talk about. you can't just gloss over the month you spent apart, and you would have to talk to your friends about your choice to give him another chance. it would be difficult, and a risk. you were tired of pouring love into people who could not understand its substance.

but perhaps you can hope; you can hope that this time things will be different. that you'll love someone who will love you back all the same.

"Okay." you say softly.

he smiles, and you wonder if you are imagining the glassy look in his eyes. "Okay?"

you nod, whispering once more. "Yeah, okay."

he tilts his head down and captures your lips with his own, one arm sliding around your waist and the other in your hair, tugging you impossibly close.

you gasp into it, not expecting the desperation that leaks from his lips. he pushes you against the wall, with you wrapping your arms around his neck.

tomorrow, you'd have a lot to think about. you'll have to talk to him and figure out what's in store for the two of you. you will also have to face people who will surely disagree with your decision.

but that was a problem for the future.

for now, you're content to focus on the warm lips on your own.

EXTRA:

"So, what happened with that girl anyway?" your cheek is smushed on Kiyoomi's chest as the two of you lay in bed. you had come over to his place after his practice, and you were enjoying the skinship and cuddles.

he shifts underneath you, "Which girl?" his voice is drowsy, and you know he's falling asleep. you can't help yourself though, you've been curious.

you lift your head, smiling at his tired eyes. "The one from the game. She kept touching you."

you watch recognition fill his eyes as he hums, "She asked me to grab a coffee a few days after the game. Haven't responded though."

you nod, satisfied. "Are you going to? Respond, that is."

he turns, large arm wrapping around you. "Why would I do that when I have you? I'd rather the both of us get coffee sometime."

you laugh, "Are you asking me out on a date, Sakusa Kiyoomi?"

he smiles sleepily, planting a kiss on your forehead. "Yes. Let's get coffee soon."

you giggle, snuggling closer. "Okay, sounds good to me."

the surprise you had wanted to give to him after the game sits on his wall, framed and beside his bed. the drawing is one of your best, filled with the overwhelming love you know you could only ever offer to Kiyoomi.

love has always been something daunting for you. to love so wholeheartedly meant the likelihood of someone hurting you was greater. but you don't regret anything, not the slightest bit.

because you know how much love you have to offer, and as long as its to the right person, you know he'll keep your heart safe.

you love him, and you're not sorry.

a/n: 9.7k words later i refuse to read this again:’)

[delacoursshp]

you wanted me to explain, right? i'll explain.

fred weasley x fem reader- no use of y/n, reader is in gryffindor, both are of age

warnings: smut, 18+, doggy, hot steamy n roughhh, unconsensual consent, spitting, sort of blowjob

this is a short, straight to the point story 😭 but i hope y'all enjoy! @delacourss.hp

-

"fred!" you yelled frustratingly, "fred, come here this instance!"

fred anxiously hurried from the boys dorm room to the common room where you had been standing.

"wussthematta?" he replied half-asleep, eyes heavily lidded with one hand rubbing his eyes, and the other scratching his firey red head.

the common room was entirely dark, except for your lit wand, which was pointing to a piece of parchment on the floor. your nostrils were flaring as your widened eyes and frowned brows signaled fred to look at the paper.

"uuhh," as he slowly realized what he was looking at, "uh, wow, wicked thing to do really, innit?" he yawned, pretending to be so oblivious.

"fred, gideon, weasley." you spoke in a dangerous tone. fred looked up at you, looking as if he was about to be cruciated. you pointed your still-very-lit wand up at him, making his face whiter than before and his vision blurred.

the piece of parchment showed a talently drawn woman, her clothes shed off and her tongue out. the woman seemed to look an awful lot like you.

"do i even have to speak? it's YOU who should do the explaining, fred!" you said angrily.

fred sighed and let his arms fall limp to his sides, still partly blinded by your wand. "how are you even assuming it's mine? you've got no proof whatsoever!" he told defensively.

you scoffed, drawing your wand away for him, muttering something that lit up the whole common room and then picked up the piece of paper, which now had clearly shown strands of red hair covering the thighs of the woman.

"oh come off it, it could've been george or- or ron!"

you gifted him a look of disbelief. "alright, so tell me you didn't do it then." you spoke firmly.

fred groaned. he had this issue ever since he met you, the one where he just fully can't lie to you. he closed his eyes in defeat.

"aaaalright, it was me. congratulations, now may i continue dreaming about perce eating rotten pies? it was a quit enjoyable dream" he asked, simply, as if this was nothing.

you yanked him by his ear, faces now cm's away from eachother. "i do, NOT, tolerate this piece of filthy work!" you grunted. fred 'ouched' in response.

you let go of his now red ear, picked up the piece of paper, held it next to your head, and handed fred your wand.

you waited impatiently, as fred just looked confused.

"well?? do it!"

"aughh", fred just groaned dissapointedly, "expelliarmus!"

a shot of yellowish red light flew towards the parchment, and it dissapeared out of your hands, leaving a few white dots on the floor.

you sighed in relief. "wasn't so hard was it? now, i'm expecting an explanation, so i hope you prepared one whilst i was waiting."

"oh, come on. you must have some idea why." fred said, tone low and soft, glaring at you like you were some sort of prey, "don't act so innocent, love."

your expression changed. can it be? no, that would be weird. you guys are friends after all. fred smirked and playfully winked at you.

"don't be silly, fred." you had decided to say. "c'mon, it's late, let's head to bed before anyone sees us."

you were glad you chose to change topics, it was getting a little awkward, which it never usually is between you and fred.

fred followed you but before you could land your feet on the stairs, fred grabbed you by your hips.

"you wanted me to explain, right? i'll explain."

-

"oh fuck! oh yes!" the boy relentlessly pounded into you from behind. the force of his thrusts were beyond powerful."fredd- freddie! rightt.. fucking... there. ah!" you moaned. fuck, it felt so good you never wished for it to end.

"mhmmm, yeah? you like that huh, love?" fred shakingly spoke in your ear, sending you goosebumps, which only added to your incoming orgasm.

your back was flush with his chest, and you struggled to keep your legs still. he snaked his arm around your waist as he fucked into you, his other arm too occupied rubbing your little clit.

this sudden but slight change made you grasp his hair with your right hand, the other hand trying to push his pelvis away as the pleasure became overwhelming.

"mmh, don't push me away. you know you want this." he groaned.

"shit, shit, shit!" you kept gasping. the man showed no mercy, as he lifted one of your legs by your thigh, so he could be even deeper, if that was possible.

"too deep, freddie! too f-fucking deep!" you screamed. fred only chuckled at your helpless noises, feeling so proud of himself that he could get those sounds out of your pretty lips.

he sped up his merciless pace, skin-slapping noises lewdly contrasting against your high-pitched moans and freds deep grunts."yes! yes!" you kept whining, as he hit your g-spot over and over again. your eyes rolled back, and, for a moment, all your senses blacked out, and if it wasn't for freds strong grip on you, you would've fell.

"aah, fuck yeah." fred groaned, as he looked down to where you were connected to see a splash of white, sticky, hot liquid all over his and your pelvis.

he quickly pulled out, spinning you and immediately shoving you down on your knees.

your mind was still hazey as you were still coming down from your high. looking up at him, you saw him look back while roughly stroking his cock. finally understanding his gaze, you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out.

well fuck, this was just like the drawing.

"mm, keep looking at me like that, sweetheart." he said, in a strained voice. "i'm.. almost.." he moaned, "...there."

the sight infront of you was so delicious, you just had to do something about it. you licked his tip, kissed it and then spit on it.

fred seemed surprised, and stroked faster then ever, before shooting his load onto your tongue."ahaa, oh yeah.." he sighed.

you made sure, once his eyes opened, that he saw your semen covered tongue, and then you swallowed.

not even caring what it tasted like, but caring about how fred reacted, you giggled as you saw him smirk and raise his eyebrows as if he was impressed by your actions.

"you get it now, beautiful? was that a good enough explanation?" fred said, lifting you up by your arms, and carrying you to the gryffindor bathroom.

"mhm, that was a perfect explanation, fred."

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

aaaa! was this good?😭 goshh i hope so. gimme tips n stuff, i'd rlly appreciate it!! :)

[corrodedbisexual]

Modern-ish Steddie AU where they meet in jail.

Steve shouldn't even be here; he got arrested for shoplifting, but it was all a misunderstanding. He was actually trying to prevent a shoplifting when he saw a couple of kids stuffing chocolate bars into their jacket pockets. They bolted, and he chased after them; unfortunately, he was still holding a bottle of (rather expensive) wine in hand as he did that, so he ended up the perceived cause of the blaring store alarm while the two shitheads escaped with zero consequences.

The store's got security cameras. So it will probably be fine, right? It will all be resolved soon enough. Steve just has to wait.

What makes him more nervous is the guy he's sharing the cell with.

Wild curly hair, tattoos all over his exposed arms and one peeking out of the collar of his shirt, the man wears orange like he was born in it. He seems to be about Steve's age, in his early 20s, but it's hard to tell. When Steve's brought in, he's lounging carelessly on his bed, trying to fold a piece of toilet paper into what looks like a crane.

The guy looks dangerous; who knows what could provoke him. Steve just settles quietly into the corner of his own bed at the opposite wall, drawing his knees up to his chin and trying to keep his head down. Literally.

Except every time he glances up, the man's rather intense stare is on him. Five minutes into this awkward silence, Steve can't handle it anymore, so he clears his throat and speaks up, still choosing to look at the floor.

"So, uh... what are you in for?"

He cringes immediately. It's probably the worst possible question to ask, and one most likely to get you a punch in the face. But when Steve looks up, he finds his cellmate fully grinning, now busying himself with tearing the toilet paper into little bits.

"Oh, just a bit of murder," he answers casually. "Our lord Satan requires sacrifice, you know."

Steve's almost convinced the guy's fucking with him (because surely, murder suspects are placed in separate cells from the minor offense folk, right?) but he's still a little terrified.

The guy (Eddie, Steve finally learns the name, although that might not be a real one) keeps talking, throwing balls of paper into the toilet by the wall. He keeps missing; there's little bits of white all over the floor already.

He says he's been to prison twice. Grand theft auto and arson. Escaped both times, apparently. He's planning an escape right now, too. Goes on, with a manic grin and wild gestures, about how one of the guards is actually a member of his cult, has got him covered.

It all has to be bullshit. It has to be. Steve doesn't dare comment on it, because at the small chance that it's actually true, he's fucked if he pisses this guy off.

A single paper ball finally lands inside the toilet, and Eddie whoops so loudly that Steve almost jumps.

"Aaaand the crowds cheer, boys'n'girls all going wild screaming his name!" Eddie yells, rapidly drumming his palms on his thighs. "It's the rising star of the new hot game of pottyball, it's Eddieee Munsooon!"

Yeah, so whatever the man was or wasn't lying about, Steve's not about to engage. Eddie's clearly all kinds of insane, he thinks, watching out of the corner of his eye as the guy, seemingly over his silly little game, starts wrapping the toilet paper around his head like a turban.

Except five minutes later, Eddie apparently decides that Steve's much better entertainment than toilet paper. He rolls off the bed and strolls across the tiny cell, stopping right in front of Steve, who in turn is doing his best to become one with the concrete wall behind him. With a shit-eating grin, Eddie strikes a pose, hip jutted out and one hand trying to keep the unsteady headgear in place.

"D'you think I look like a beautiful prince, Stevie?" He asks, batting his eyelashes. (Oh god, why did Steve tell him his real name, what was he thinking.) "Would you go on a magic carpet ride with me?"

Steve can't help it. He bursts out laughing. It almost sounds like Eddie's trying to flirt with him, except Steve stands by his insane conviction, because who the fuck flirts like that?!

The laughter doesn't seem to deter Eddie. He's grinning even wider now, and then he plants both hands on the bed on each side of Steve and leans in, tilting his head.

"Well aren't you pretty when you smile, princess."

Cold sweat runs down the back of Steve's neck as a sudden implication of what might be happening here hits him. He's only heard about it from like, movies and stuff, but does this actually happen? Oh shit. Is Steve gonna become this guy's prison bitch? Jail bitch, technically?

What's worse, a tiny voice in Steve's head suggests that maybe it's not so bad, actually. Eddie's a lunatic, but at least he's hot. (Really hot, if Steve's honest with himself.) And terrifying, so nobody would mess with Steve so long as he's Eddie's... whatever.

Thankfully, Steve's saved from further contemplating his hypothetical future prison life by a key rattling in the cell's lock; Eddie immediately leans back and jumps across the room, so by the time Chief Hopper steps through the door, he's already sitting cross-legged on his bed, hands folded in his lap, a picture of pure innocence.

Hopper turns to Steve first, something apologetic in his voice as he says, "We viewed the security camera footage, you're free to go, Harrington."

With a relieved huff, Steve scrambles to get up. Meanwhile, Hopper turns his attention to Eddie, regards the half-fallen-apart ridiculousness on his head, rolls his eyes and heaves a tired-sounding sigh.

"You too, Munson. Next time someone dares you to streak through a public space, just pick truth instead, would ya?"

Ten minutes later, they both walk outside in their street clothes. Well, Steve's in his street clothes; Eddie's only garment is a thin grey medical blanket Hopper's helpfully provided him with. Eddie's wrapped it around himself like a toga.

"So..." Steve turns to him and smirks. "How much exactly of what you said in there was total bullshit?"

Eddie cackles at the question. "I'd say about... ninety percent. I clearly am a rising star of pottyball, you know." He waits a beat for Steve to laugh, then adds, "And you do have a very pretty smile."

Steve bites his lip, feeling heat in his cheeks at the compliment. In the light of day, outside the cell, it's like he sees Eddie for the first time, in his silly blanket toga, squinting at the bright sunlight. And he feels ridiculous about ever thinking this man could be dangerous. Insane? Probably. Full of shit? Oh, definitely. Hot? Yes, very much. Dangerous though? Laughable.

And so, Steve finds himself asking, "Wanna get coffee and tell me something real about yourself?"

Eddie looks surprised by the offer, his smile turning a little bashful, and he hides behind a lock of hair before looking down at himself and chuckling.

"I'm probably gonna need some clothes first."

"Nah," Steve teases, briefly checking him out. "You're rocking this outfit."

"And you're absolutely right, I am, but unfortunately this thing is about five seconds from falling apart," Eddie pointedly fixes the half-loosened knot on his shoulder. "And something tells me Hopper won't be so lenient about repeated public indecency."

Steve giggles and finally takes pity on the guy. "Okay, my car's parked, like, two blocks from here. I have some clean gym clothes you can borrow."

"Lead the way, pretty boy," Eddie grins and follows him with a goofy little twirl.

Divider credit

[nxathyx]

"That's my lap..."

Gn!reader x Dazai Osamu, Gn!Reader x Ranpo Edogawa, Gn!Reader x Chuuya Nakahara, Gn! Reader x Akutagawa Ryuunoske, Gn!reader x Nikolai Gogol, Gn! Reader x Fyodor Dostoyevski, Gn! Reader x Sigma

So i just remembered that audio that was like

"hey, is that seat taken?"

"That's my lap.."

"i know what I said"

And i thought it'd be fun to write something similar so basically reader sitting on the bsd boys lap

Tw: slight suggestive themes (like hair pulling, grinding, marks/bites/brusinig, straddling if you want to count that, spanking), sitting on ones lap, ooc, cursing, slander (im slandering Fyodor once more), bad grammer

Dazai Osamu

° would definetly grab your hips and push you down on his lap

° I feel like he prefers when you're back is towards him so you can rest the back of your head against his chest while he just reads, does something on his phone or just stroke your hair

° definetly just does it as a pass time

° definetly Held your waist and made you grind against his thigh or just generally against him

° I feel like he enjoys having you on his lap in the agency, just to tease you and to anger Kunikida

°I feel like he'd massage your shoulders and leave feather like kisses on the back of your neck

Ranpo Edogawa

° I don't know why but I think he prefers sitting on your lap

° but if you do end up on his lap you two would just be quietly enjoying each others company eating some snacks and engaging in conversation from time to time

° definetly places his hands on your tummy and just plays with the skin (that sounds weird asf)

Chuuya Nakahara

° okay either likes having you on his lap sideways or you straddling him

° It depends where and what his mood is

° if you have a more childish and or silly personality would definetly use his ability to kind of make you jump up and down, and when I say up I mean like 30cm off his lap up

° would probably try to get a bit frisky

° once he let you sit on his lap while you did his eyeliner (he loved it)

° I feel like he'd know how to braid hair so would definitely do that (if your hair is long enough for that)

° I have no clue why but I feel like he'd pull your hair and then say some kinky shit in your ear😧

° you're probably leaving with a bruised and bitten neck

° if you have fishnet tights on he's definitely fondling with the plush of your thighs (slap his hand away if you don't want those to be torn [he will buy you new ones though])

°probably has a hand on your neck/throat

° if you wear chockers especially leather ones he's pulling on it just to kiss you

Akutagawa Ryuunoske

° how the fuck did you manage to even do that

° mf definetly uses rashoumon to keep you in place if you try to get up

° I legit don't know what else to say rather than what the fuck

° I think Akutagawas very kinky in private so expect a lot of lewd comments, maybe even spanking (this is so ooc right now💀

Nikolai Gogol

° mf once straight up kidnapped you with his ability just to have you sit on his lap

° likes having you kind of bounce on his lap (my grandma used to do that and it's kind of like you're pretending you're riding a horse while making sounds of the hooves clicking against the floor with your mouth. Eastern Europeans will probably understand)

° would show you card tricks

° I don't know why but I feel like he'd just randomly draw on the back of your neck (maybe sometimes with his mouth—)

° definetly drew a dick once and thought he was hilarious😭😭

° he grips your thighs from behind (I think he'd have really long and well kept nails so expect crescent moons on them)

Fyodor Dostoyevski

° personally I wouldn't go for that 😁

° don't touch his hair, you'll get 8 unknown diseases or something (I love hating on him so much)

° his body is really cold so use it to cool yourself off on a nice sunny day

° okay i don't know why but if you like a top or dress or corset or anything that needs to be tied on the back he'd sit you on his lap and zip it or tie it for you

° this man has such a hard grip on your hips, like you're leaving with bruises

Sigma

° I feel like he'd prefer to sit in your lap

° either that or just let you cuddle up to him while he's working or something

° will have one hand on your lower back

° if you ever strattled him he'll be so confused and embarrassed

° like don't do this to him he has to focus on the casino not the way you feel on him

°(he definitely gets turned on real fast)

[blackkatdraws2]

1st Batch: the Inhabitants

[Blank Scripts AU (non-canonical)]

Multiple footsteps reverberated within the claustrophobic stairways of the Parable.

One strikingly beautiful old man elegantly struts up the stairs with a scowl on his face, having a heated one-sided discussion (lecture) with a poor stuttering businessman on his phone call.

The rest simply follow him, a group of special individuals who have come and now reside in this strange building for their own peculiar reasons. They don't quite understand many things about the workings of this place, but one thing is for certain.

Wherever the Narrator tells them to go, whatever he tells them to do, they comply.

BATCH LIST:

- [1st Batch: The Inhabitants] - [2nd Batch: The Janitors] - [3rd Batch: The Citizens] - [4th Batch: The Guardians]

↓ [Chatter and Credits below] ↓

-----------⟡

The first illustration is posted! [Yay!] There will be more coming soon!

I've decided to pair these characters together due to a single uniting trait they all shared. Being residents of the Parable! [Either as an NPC or as something else.]

I admit that I went in with a lot of confidence, thinking I would finish this illustration in just a day or two, and I got HUMBLED. Starting June 16th [the day after everyone's characters got submitted] I spent five days just drawing this one illustration alone. [I draw fast, I usually only spend a few hours on one drawing before moving on, so this was a challenging experience.]

There were many factors contributing to why it took me so long. Such as drawing blindly [not preparing before trying to render and failing at it], not using references, lack of experience drawing buildings from scratch, etc. [Okay, now I just sound like I'm making excuses but wow that was really hard HAHAHA I almost got art-block as a result!]

My grievances aside, I'm happy with the result!

Mell by @katkit-drops-alt

Her dress and concept are absolutely lovely!! I like how, despite how terrifying she may come off, she's ultimately still a girl with her own normal life to live [or whatever it is that's normal to her anyway.] Her silly farm boyfriend is cute too!

[unnamed character] by @rick-ety

Ahh this girl!! I'm interested in her! [I love character designs that look 'ghostly' or dead.] Her pretty long hair reminds me a lot of Sadako [that one ghost girl with long black hair covering her face...] Her poor limbs missing and the twist of her not dying simply because she's already dead ahhh!!! o(〃＾▽＾〃)o

Helena by @neat-o-things

A silly girl who died in the Parable as she was about to make it out then ended up getting reincarnated as an NPC, making maps for the Parable, not knowing why she's doing it or where she even is!!! Only that she feels like she should :). I hold her dearly.

Anika by @hyydrochloricacidd

Uwwaahh we have sisters!! Anika is so unnervingly tall and creepy, I love that seemingly doll-like look on her face. It feels very uncanny! I can't wait to draw her sister Anala soon.

Root by @therootthatquestiond

AHH a drawing in Roblox!! (p≧w≦q) I love Roblox, you did a really great job!! We appreciate our quiet guy Root. Praise Root.

[lowkeyremi]

That's my man atsumu x fem!reader

notes: I needed to write smthing for my baby's birthday. fwb tsumu does smthing to a me (it'll end up with getting together bc im silly like that), the samu ver is here

Content: slight language, slightly suggestive, fluff

He smiled at her with those sex eyes of his. Yes, he's giving them to her and not you. Atsumu makes everything so hot and cold, it's hard to tell with him.

She giggles and he laughs too, entertaining her for some pussy. The 'why' is something you will never understand, not when you've had that man down on his knees, eating you out like he was on death row and you were his last meal.

Your hope is that both of their stupid asses feel your heated glare towards them. They don't notice it though, mainly because you're best friend pulls you out of your thoughts.

"The sooner you get over him the sooner my life becomes easier." Your best friend jokes. Their attempts at lightening your mood are ineffective. How could you be in a better mood when the man of your dreams only wants sex from you? You want him, badly, but he doesn't want you.

This was something you were aware of before sleeping with him. Yet, you took it lightly, and now here you are, pouting over him being with another girl.

"I know, it's just-"

They cut you off, "'it's different between us, he treats me better than his other fucks.' I've already heard the whole shebang." Your friend rolls their eyes with a quick smirk.

"He's a college frat boy, there's no way he was serious if he said something in bed. It was probably to set the mood." You know they're right, you're just being delusional. You want your relationship to be something it's not.

The rest of your day was pretty foul. Just as you thought it couldn't get worse it did. You had to present your presentation, because your partner who was supposed to do it has covid, and your other partner is so bad with public speaking that she freezes up.

Your favorite coffee is the only thing that brings you some joy to your day. You're seated in your favorite booth at your favorite cafe. You take small sips and check your social media feed. It's then when you hear your name being called out.

You don't bother to turn to look because you know who it is. He sits at your booth, unaware of the anger you feel currently.

"Don't you have someone's pussy to be buried into?" You ask with venom.

Atsumu gives you that cute little chuckle, you hate it so much right now. It feels like a tear to your pride.

"Only if it's yers." He suggests with a smirk.

"I'm really not in the mood right now Atsumu, why don't you go entertain that girl from bio." Shit, know he'll know and tease you. He'll probably cut things off with you and-

"Oh her? I was just tryin' to get her to do my presentation, but she turned me down." He says casually. This is probably the only time you'll be thankful for Atsumu's obliviousness.

"I could have helped you with it." He knows you're smart, and he would have asked you...

"There was no way I woulda asked ya. You always make me do the work, and only give me commentary on my work." He says sighing. You watch as he places those big rough hands of his under his chin.

He's so pretty, volleyball has not failed him once. Even though some of your friends hate his hair; you think it's cute.

Those eyes, so pretty and brown draw you in to him. Also his muscles are just right, he's not too buff but he's also not thin to the point you can't see anything.

"Yeah, it's called improving. I really hope you didn't think you'd get through college with a pretty face and money. College isn't just one big party. At least not for me." You lecture and Atsumu listens, he always listens.

"For starters I do my work now, I ain't slept with a teacher since freshman year which was almost two years ago. Thank you very much." He replies to the shade you send his way.

"Anyway, what is it that you wanted?" You ask with a sigh.

"I wanted to check up on ya s'all. My cupcake seemed a lil' outta it today." Fuck his perceptiveness.

"Just tired is all." Atsumu's eyes narrow at your response. Why'd you think you could lie to one of the biggest liars you know?

"The way ya were acting today wasn't as much 'oh gee im tired' but more like 'my sweetie pie tsumu-bear hasn't been paying me any attention.'"

"If you knew, then why where you trying to force it out of me?" You roll your eyes and look back to your phone as to avoid his gaze and your embarrassment.

"I just wanted to hear ya say it because yer so cute." Atsumu is going to be the death of you. He annoys you to no end.

"Just so ya know, I ain't been sleepin' with anyone besides you, sweetheart."

"How do I know you aren't a big fat liar?" The way he smiles when you hiss at him has your heart melting. Why? Why you?

"I'd be an idiot to sleep with someone else when I got the most beautiful girl in my bed all the time." It's so sweet and sincere, his voice is honest you can tell. It feels like a weight has been lifted off your chest, and that Atsumu shaped hole in your heart is slowly being filled.

"Yeah? What're you trying to say, Tsumu?" You peek up from your phone screen to look at his dark eyes. It catches you off guard slightly, the way he looks at you, like you put the stars in the damn sky.

"I knew ya were kinda clueless but this is something else. I want ya to be my girl."He clarifies and you stop breathing for a second. When you'd fantasize about this you'd never thought his confession would be calm. Atsumu is loud and obnoxious, so this quiet, calmness has caught you off guard.

"Is that a question or a demand?" You ask.

"Not a question, m'already confident in ya wanting me." He's prideful and sometimes it sucks but right now.. it's so hot.

"Okay then, I'm yours." You whisper quietly trying to grasp what you've just said.

"Good, best decision you'll ever make, cupcake." Cockiness is laced in his tone and you roll your eyes.

"I said to stop calling me that," You finally drop your gaze back to your phone, but you aren't even paying attention to the dimly-lit screen. Your brain is exploding right now.

"You're my man now." It finally registers.

"Sure am."

[partycatty]

anon dm requested: "The request would be: Relationship hcs with Liu Kang? Can be just fluff, but if you wanna add nsfw *wink wink*. I think after so many years of celibacy his rizz would be lower than sea level, but I'd love to read your take on it!"

liu kang > love again

what it's like dating the god of thunder and fire - and the keeper of time

warnings: pretty angsty ngl, can't write for this lover boy without profound sadness, mentions of sex

masterlist

• promising your love to an immortal god was a huge responsibility - you were uncertain if you promised your forever, or his forever. two vastly different connotations to the word.

• it took a lot of time and effort to get him to see you like that. liu kang made a vow to his existence to never fall in love again, after losing everything. no mortal would be able to stand by his side for as long as he'd like, for one life was merely a grain of sand in his beach of a lifetime.

• but once he's in, he's in all the way - or so, he tries to be. as silly as it may sound, the man is charming but rusty. he has that natural tendency to draw people in with his words and spirit, but when it comes to real flirting you've got him with rusty cogs in his head.

• he warms up to you little by little, his casual praises lacing with compliments to your physique or mental strength, something he admires in a mortal. but then, you'd cloud his mind with your enchanting form while he is tucked away in his personal quarters, meditating. like a frosted screen blocking his vision, your presence started to eat away at him.

• liu kang tried hard to push it away - he can't do it again. love. he can't love again, when he knows just how quickly it can be taken away. he recalls the life being sucked from him by his revenant counterpart, being by thunder god raiden's side after his mortal death, clinging hopelessly onto a backwards moving kitana.

• and yet, when he'd watch you beam with pride after learning a new combo, or hold eye contact for just a moment longer than the other chosen ones, liu kang would force himself to break his usually solid eye contact. you just broke something in him - the side that he thought died when he lost everything he knew.

• even after fighting the urge to confess any sort of attraction, liu kang feels viscerally angry seeing anyone else show interest in you. his fists clench and his tattoos flicker a frustratingly blinding shade as he silently cooks himself in the distance. he partially hates himself for being so jealous, and partially because he know he could just stop being jealous by having you all to himself, something he couldn't bring himself to do.

• so much gentle encouragement gives him the strength to say you're his, and it rolls off of his tongue far too easily. why hadn't he tried it sooner? you were so perfect, and he felt like he couldn't pat himself on the back for it. he created you, but never expected your true colors to shine so vividly.

• most nights are spent comforting your new godly boyfriend. your hands tangle themselves in his hair as you massage his scalp thoroughly. he's very still as he absorbs every touch you give him. he may not need to sleep, but he'd lay there for hours if it meant he was your pillow.

• just as you savor calling him your lord, he savors calling you his. "my love, my dear, my beloved, my flower," any romantic nickname is game if it opens with a "my." once he starts getting comfortable enough to use them, it's never ending.

• sex with him is always tender and passionate, where he is entirely focused on your pleasure rather than his own. he has no need for such release anymore, but he can't deny your warmth encapsulating him as a sign of your devotion to him. you also make a great stress relief toy!

• liu kang remains professional in front of the others, but his glowing eyes are so strikingly obvious, especially when they're transfixed on you. when he is speaking of behalf of earthrealm to the outworld royalty, his hand falls on the small of your back as he speaks, as if to say "i am a god, but she is my equal."

• demands respect for you. isn't usually the type to cause a scene but will actively call anyone out that disrespects your feelings. will call you his lady in public, just as he is your lord. in his effortlessly neutral tone, he'll squeeze his fingers into your side as he suppresses his godly anger.

• you don't carry the burden of the knowledge he possesses with every waking moment, he can't even begin to explain it to you. he withholds plenty of information, calling it a "spoiler" or "surprise." the timeline is his to know, and yours to find out. he doesn't want to give you the same burden of truth.

• the only truth liu kang wants you to hold onto is that he chose you in this timeline. did he choose you in others? no, but what matters is that he sees you this time around.

[leezlelatch]

Terzo x GN! Reader

A very kind person pointed out that I had a gendered term in here and I apologize if it took anyone out of the story. It has been fixed!

~6,200 words, contains diner shenanigans, dancing, and sad to happy Terzo. You spend your evenings writing at the old diner in town, looking for your next great story idea. And then Terzo Emeritus walks through the door.

The neon diner sign of rocket red and electric blue illuminates the small parking lot and the few cars strung about haphazardly in their spots. Next to the dumpster in the back, a young couple attempts to get a few heated touches in before the back door swings open, sending them running while the whistling cook pours a bucket of grease into the grassy patch nearby. The few patrons inside sit on different ends of a diner that hasn’t changed a wink since it was erected, although the same couldn’t be said for the diehards who have been coming since their kids were kids or since they were kids. The lone waitress on duty pours another cup of coffee for an overworked cop, while a businessman in a booth runs a hand through his well-oiled hair, his eyes vacant while he comes up with another excuse for his wife as to why the paycheck is short again this week. 

You make eye contact with a young boy sitting at a table with his sister and parents. He smiles at you, and your lips curve in a genuine one yourself. There’s a diversity here. That’s the reason you keep coming back, although the cheeseburgers certainly make their own argument. You make a silly face at the boy and wink, his smile broadening as he giggles before turning back to the chicken nuggets his mother is trying very hard to get him to eat. You take a breath and rub your fingers against your palms before turning back to your laptop, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth as you regard the blank document. 

Writing is so damn difficult, and honestly, you wonder how James Patterson gets away with publishing a hundred books a year. At this point, we all know it isn’t him writing. No, the real writers are out here, plugging away in old diners and trying not to go insane. At this point, you don’t even know where the plot is going, and you regret not making an outline. But you need ideas for outlines and you’re fresh out of them. 

“I should just go back to writing fanfiction,” you mumble, resting your chin on your hand while sighing in frustration. 

The dainty ring of the old bell above the door draws your attention to the front, and you watch with interest as the newest addition to this motley crew enters. You’ve never seen him before. In the weeks that you’ve made this place your writing home, you’ve gotten to know most of its patrons. They’re typical small town people with problems, just like you have problems, but they’re the type of people who always have a good morning on the tip of their tongue and call you honey. But this guy. Boy, did he break the mold. 

He’s older, maybe above 50, close to 60. The wrinkles around his eyes and forehead are cut deep, and it draws your writer’s curiosity to wonder if they’re from laughter or pain. His face is set in a neutral expression as his eyes scan the diner, and you feel yourself inching forward in your seat, squinting a little. 

Am I seeing right? you think, watching as the man moves toward the counter. His left eye looks strange, milky from where you’re sitting, and you immediately conclude that he must be blind in one eye. 

You quickly look away and down at your table, your eyes a little wide. Judging much? you scold yourself. Jesus, get a grip. You’re not that damn bored. 

Despite your internal reproach, your eyes flicker back up to watch the man as he takes off his jacket and lays it over one arm, politely waiting for the waitress to turn around as she refills the coffee pot. He’s wearing a dark purple button-up, sleeves rolled up to expose dainty wrists and forearms covered in dark hair. He’s that dark and debonair type, his hair that kind of black that’s almost unnatural, probably dyed. His bangs fall into his face, a long-fingered hand coming up to brush it away from his eyes. Your eyebrows raise as the errant lock of hair settles in a perfect wave with its brethren, unmoving. So the handsome older stranger has perfect hair, entirely unsurprising and very much appreciated. 

You quickly glance down at your laptop when his eyes sweep across the room, likely looking for a place to sit, and you’re faced with your blinking cursor once more. Ignore the most interesting person you’ve seen walk in here in weeks, and write your damn story. 

“Hello, how are you doing?” His accented voice floats across the diner. 

Fuck it. 

You watch him greet the waitress with a smile, his arm not holding the jacket coming up to rest on the counter as he casually leans, crossing one foot over the other. Penny, the poor woman caught in the clutches of that peculiar stare, flounders like a fish for several seconds before asking what she could get him. You try to peg his accent as he asks for black coffee with a squeeze of lemon, but all you can think about is how lovely the words sound coming out of those full lips. At this point, you begin to wonder if you’re in heat. 

“You sure you don’t want cream, honey?” Penny asks him, pouring his coffee in one of those chipped porcelain mugs. 

“No, thank you. I am lactose intolerant,” the man chuckles lightly and presses a hand to his stomach. “It will come back like a ghost.”

“A ghost?” Penny frowns. 

“Eh, to haunt me. Stomach troubles. This is what I get for trying English phrases, no?” 

“Oh. Right,” Penny laughs a little uncomfortably and slides his coffee across the counter. “That’ll be a dollar fifty.” 

The man slides a twenty across the counter and smiles pleasantly at her with a quiet, lilted, “Keep the change, per favore.” 

He turns and makes his way to a table about two away from yours, and reaches into the pocket of his jacket. He pulls out a small notebook, moleskin, and leaves the jacket draped over the empty chair beside him before taking a seat. Your eyes peer over the top of your laptop, watching as he warms his hands on his cup for a moment, just staring into the mug with an unreadable expression. There is something sad about him, something you can’t quite put your finger on. Honestly, you shouldn’t be trying. It’s rude. You’re rude. And the poor man probably just wants to enjoy a cup of joe before going home for the night. 

As he lifts the mug to his lips, his eyes catch yours. His left eye isn’t milky, the iris is entirely white, pupil like a pinprick. God, you just wanna fling your laptop across the room. You are so goddamn nosy, and look what happened. Embarrassed, and thoroughly blushing, you look away for a moment before compelled, you return his odd gaze. He smiles at you and tips his mug in greeting before taking that first sip which prompts a satisfied sigh to escape that perfect mouth and you want to die. 

You start to type on your keyboard, nonsensical stuff to make it look like you’re working and not obsessing, but all you can manage to write is, “I am as thirsty for this old man as he is for his cup of coffee.” Oh my god, delete that now. What is wrong with you?

I’m never leaving my apartment again, you think. I’m not doing it. He’s been in here for 10 minutes and I am acting like a looney toon. 

Taking a deep cleansing breath, you take a big bite of your nearly cold cheeseburger like a feral animal before cracking your knuckles, determined to get back to your story. You begin to write a descriptive opening for the scene, and as the story progresses, seemingly slipping from your brain to your fingers to the document on the screen, you decide that it’s going to be a romance. Perhaps entirely inspired by the man a few tables away from you, but hey! That’s the reason you come here. It’s paying off. 

Your eyes unwittingly fall on the man once more, and he’s hunched over the little notebook, a pencil in his hand as he writes. His lips move, silently reading along with each stroke of his pencil, and he more than once has to brush that bang away from his forehead, causing a smile to light your face. Not so perfect hair after all. Ah well, who are you kidding? Even the messy bang is its own perfection. 

His fingers rise to his face and he pauses for a moment as if he’s remembering something before shaking his head a little with a barely perceptible smile and scratching his nose. He heaves a sigh and looks about the diner again, his eyes falling on the sign that claims the diner sells Pepsi fresh. You watch his eyebrows turn in, deepening the wrinkles which pucker above the bridge of his nose, giving him an angry look which coupled with his white eye could make anyone shiver in intimidation. 

The family sitting nearby finish their meal and stand up, the kids talking exuberantly as they put their jackets on. The little boy runs ahead of his parents and nearly trips, the man on instinct half-standing, his chair scraping across the linoleum as he makes a small lunge toward the boy in order to prevent his falling. The kid rights himself without help, and looks at the stranger with a nervous, wide-eyed stare. 

“It is alright, little one. I fall very often,” the man says with a soft smile, making a show of nearly tripping and falling back into his seat with an “oof!” The little boy starts to giggle, and you feel your own cheeks heat as you watch them interact. It’s so incredibly sweet, and the way the man’s eyes shine as he nods the family out the door makes you wonder if he has his own children at home. Likely grown. But the lack of a ring on his finger says otherwise, although…that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. 

Your stranger turns back to his notebook and picks up his pencil, taking another sip of his coffee with his free hand. When he presses the lead to the page, it snaps. He stares down at the broken piece for several seconds before his hand curls into a fist, and it looks as if he may throw the pencil across the room in the very same way you considered throwing your laptop. His expression changes, no longer soft and sweet as it was with the boy, or politely curious. It crumbles as if he was just given bad news, his mouth cutting a severe line. That bang falls into his face, and he doesn’t bother to push it away, letting it hang limp in front of his eyes that are hollow, vacant. 

And then he looks up. And it’s gone. He looks only minorly inconvenienced, his gaze once more falling on you. He leans across the table slightly, an arm reaching across the expanse as he attempts to catch your eyes which are hyper focused on your laptop. You are the master of being inconspicuous, for sure. 

“Excuse me? May I bother you for a moment?” Such a basic question, and yet his accent caresses each word with a musical quality. 

“Hi, yes?” You inquire, finally meeting his gaze. If there ever was a moment to ‘audibly swallow’ as so many fanfictions describe, it would be now. 

“Well, I must have a very strong grip because my pencil broke before I could get a single line on paper,” he says, holding up his broken pencil. “And as my brother would say, I do not have a brain, and forgot to bring another.” 

He pauses for a moment to admire your amused smile at his words which bolsters his own. He gives a little shrug, “He also says to get out of my room and write, but I cannot do so without a pencil, sì? I end up bothering a lovely young person like yourself who have better things to do than entertain such an old chatterbox.”

“Is there a question in there?” You tease, arching a brow. You tilt your laptop screen down to better see him, and you don’t miss the way his eyes scan your face. 

He puts his hands up and you take note of a signet ring on his right hand, but from this angle, you are unable to see the symbol adorning it. “What did I say, huh? I talk too much. My question is, do you have a pencil? Or a pen, if it is not too much trouble.” 

“Are you a writer?” You ask, picking up your bag to rummage through for the pen you know is hiding at the bottom. 

“Perhaps it is one of many things I do.” 

“Perhaps?” You find the pen, and pull it out, scooting back from your chair. 

“No, no, please don’t get up,” he says, slipping from his chair to approach you. You feel a rush in your chest as he comes to stand beside you, your head tilting up to meet his eyes, immediately entranced by the lovely shade of green in his right one. 

“One would have to write to be a writer, no?” He continues, lightly taking the pen from your hand. His ring has the sigil of Lucifer carved into the face. 

“Which is what you were doing, until your pencil broke,” you point out. 

“It is more of a hobby than a profession.” 

“A writer is a writer no matter if you do it day, night, or in between time spent staring into the void,” you say, your eyes returning to your half-closed laptop.

“Ah, I am familiar with the void,” the man chuckles softly. 

“Hell?” You question, your gaze once more falling to his ring. 

His handsome features turn confused for a moment, following your gaze before stretching out his fingers and making a small noise of acknowledgement. “Ah, my ring! Sì, sì,” he laughs again, turning his hand this way and that to admire the gold. “Do you believe Hell is a void?” He asks you then. 

“I don’t believe Hell is particularly anything,” you return, watching as he pulls out the chair next to you, pausing for a moment to give you a questioning look before you nod, and he settles himself in. 

“What if I told you Hell is a beautiful place?” The man asks. 

“Are you preaching?” 

“Preaching is one of the things that I do,” he shrugs. 

“Usually one introduces themself before trying to convert another to their religion…or cult?” You smirk. 

His eyebrows fly up into his hairline and his full bottom lip drops open. There’s a beat of a second before those fingers are once more running through his dark hair as he leans back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other. “I am being not very nice,” he shakes his head. “You can call me…Terzo. And no, I am not trying to convert you. And no, it is not a cult.” He slaps his lips, waving his hand around like a conductor. “Okay, maybe it is a cult, but it is a good one!” He pauses. “Sometimes.” He pauses again. “It is trying to be.”

“Interesting,” you say slowly.

“I am bothering you,” Terzo mumbles, placing his hands on his thighs as he moves to stand. “Mi dispiace. Sorry. Sorry.” 

“Hey!” You reach out a hand to touch his arm. As your fingers wrap around his wrist, the both of you freeze - you in your seat floundering like a fish and Terzo half-standing, the oddest expression on his face. You quickly let go with a small apology before saying, “I meant interesting as in actually interesting. I’m interested.” The last part comes out almost like a quiet plea. 

Terzo nods slowly and sits back down, his knees cracking as he does. He gives you a weak smile as he reaches a hand down to rub at one absently. “Do not get old.”

“Are you Italian?” You question. 

“What gave it away?” He teases, arching a bushy brow.

“Accent and interwoven Italian words aside, it was your name. Terzo means third, right?” 

“Do you know Italiano, uh…okay, now you are the rude one not giving me your name, huh?” He smiles. 

You laugh and hold up your hands, “You got me.” You provide your name, and Terzo lights up, tilting your pen still clutched in his hand toward his chin. “What’s that sneaky expression for?” You add. 

“Names have power, don’t you know? You have given me a gift.” He wiggles his foot, tapping the pen against his chin. 

“Are you going to take my name back with you to your non-cult cult?” You reach out to close your laptop the rest of the way, wholly invested in this conversation. 

“Only if the owner comes with it.” He leans forward, a glint in his white eye. 

“Ha! Knew it. You are trying to convert me.”

The both of you break into easy laughter, and you notice that Terzo’s smile has finally reached his eyes, so unlike the half-smile built into a blank face he provided Penny earlier, or the melancholy which overshadowed his playfulness with the little boy. His smile is crooked, wide, and his eyes wrinkle deeply at the corners. It’s sweet, and so very beautiful. 

“You did not answer my question,” Terzo continues, tilting his head to the side slightly. “Do you know Italian?”

“Ah, no,” you laugh shyly. “I just know primo, secondo, and terzo mean first, second, and third. Among other random vocabulary.” 

“Well, you just named three men of the Emeritus family.”

“Emeritus? Is that your last nam-…wait,” you arch a brow. “I named them?” 

“Eh sì, my eldest brother Primo, then Secondo, and myself. My fratellino is Copia, he was spared the numerics,” Terzo shrugs amusedly. 

You start to speak and then stop, looking down at the table, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth as you fight a smile. 

“I realize it sounds ridiculous. Our father, as Copia likes to say, is a dickhead,” Terzo supplies. 

“Okay, it’s funny,” you concede, grinning. “But it’s not…it’s not bad. Terzo is a very lovely name. I like it. After all, three is considered the perfect number. Full of magic.” 

“I have been known to carry a few tricks up my sleeve,” Terzo says with a charming smile. “Do you believe in magic? In the alteration of space and time? Conjuration, for example.” 

“I believe that there are things in this world that we don’t fully understand.” 

“Ah! And Hell is so hard to believe?” 

“I don’t know. I guess if I had to believe in something, it would be what you said. That Hell is beautiful. I’d want it to be accepting of flaws. And mistakes. Lucifer was the original rebel, right? I don’t want to believe in a place of pain,” you say, unable to believe that you’re discussing the afterlife with this man, virtually a stranger. Really, you can’t believe you’re talking to him at all. Your night at the diner is certainly not the quiet, uneventful one you expected it to be. 

Perhaps a new story began the moment Terzo Emeritus walked through that door. 

“That is a Christian concept. And excuse me, fucking wrong. I know this, I am Papa,” Terzo delivers this line as if he’s done it a hundred times and believes it to be one hundred percent true. 

“Papa?” The word comes out of your mouth as if he just announced himself as “big daddy” to the entire diner. 

Terzo’s expression drops in an instant. The confidence he exuded moments before melts away, his fingers twitching and tapping against the table with a nervous air. He tries to smile, but it wobbles, becoming a strange half-frown. “Forget I said that,” he says. “Per favore, eh…please.”

“What are you trying to write?” You ask, gesturing toward his little notebook which still sits at his table, closed. Terzo gives you a small smile of thanks before getting up and collecting his things, returning to your table to sit and open his notebook to the page he was working at. 

He wags a finger at you. “Big mistake inviting me to sit, now I won’t fuck off. Dispiace. I say fuck a lot. And shit.”

“Every writer needs a colorful vocabulary.” 

“Ah, sì. And you are so intent on hiding yours, huh?” He makes a playful grab at your laptop. You almost shout in alarm, pulling it back, before looking apologetically around the diner. Penny squints at the both of you suspiciously. Terzo snickers beside you, his hand to his mouth. 

“It’s not done,” you hiss quietly. 

“You expect me to show you mine then, tch tch tch!,” Terzo shakes his head. “Have you ever heard of a little tit for tat, darling?” Terzo’s smile widens and he ducks his head to try and peer under your half-closed screen which you swiftly close with a click. He tilts his head, gazing at you from beneath long lashes. “Is it erotic?” 

You give him a withering look, your cheeks flushing a pink that makes his eyebrows raise with a gentle smile that replaces his teasing smirk. He appears fascinated, his eyes scanning your features for several seconds. You have no words for the sudden change in his demeanor, and you look at him with equal quiet reverence. Something unknown passing between the two of you. 

“I should not tease you,” he says then, his voice a few octaves lower. “I never show my writing to anyone, well…that is going to change soon.” 

“Why’s that?” You ask, your gaze falling to his notebook where his messy cursive loops across the page, rendering you unable to read it from your position at the table. 

“If you must know, curious thing, I am writing a song. I am a musician. A singer,” he says, bending his hand at the wrist which he flings to the side with a grandiose flair. 

“Really?” The incredulity in your voice makes him frown at you, a bushy eyebrow arching.

“Don’t sound so surprised.” 

“No! No, it’s not that. I just would think as a songwriter, you would sing or…like someone would have heard your work at some point. Why keep it a secret?” 

“You are full of questions, volpino,” he says with a little smirk, tilting his head to regard you with amused eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” you answer immediately, shying away from his gaze. “I guess I’m prying pretty hard. Tit for tat, right?” 

“I never said your curiosity was unwelcome. Believe it or not, but I like to talk about myself,” he winks, and it makes you laugh. Terzo closes his eyes and hums a little. 

“I’m writing romance. Which, I know. Not exactly original.” 

“Che cosa?” His eyes open and he shakes his head. “Not original, pah! Some of the greatest works in the literary canon are romances, yeah?” 

“I can hardly write like Jane Austen,” you scoff. 

“Sì, but perhaps you are more like a Brontë. Ah no,” he snaps his fingers. “Mary Shelley.”

“Frankenstein isn’t a romance,” you say, laughing softly as he holds up both of his fingers, leaning forward in his chair. 

“Then you are not reading it correctly,” he says, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment which momentarily distracts you. “Who do you believe is the true monster? Victor or the Creature?” 

“Victor,” you answer immediately. 

Terzo smiles and nods, gesturing at you with his hand. “Then it is a romance. Albeit, a tragic one.” 

“The Creature wanted to be loved,” you say quietly, looking into Terzo’s eyes, and unintentionally focusing on the white one. “They saw him at face-value, not the soul who celebrated nature, who yearned for purpose, and was cast out by the man who was supposed to be his father.”

“Exactly,” Terzo whispers, nodding slightly. That heavy melancholy was back, settling over the lines of his face like a shadow which he hid behind a mask of easy smiles and witty banter. His Creature. 

“Are you okay?” You finally ask, unable to hold yourself back when this mysterious and beautiful man looks so incredibly sad. If you were being honest with yourself, there is something about his melancholy that feels familiar to you, like a beast you are too afraid to poke. 

Terzo merely smiles, and leans his head back to laugh a little, rubbing his hands together before picking up his notebook. “Sì! I am always okay. Always good. You asked me about my song, correct?” He enunciates the word, landing hard on the ‘T’. “It is called Zenith. I am not usually the songwriter of my eh…little group. This is a first. And I expect it will not go over well.”

“Go over well with whom?” 

“Now you are asking the right questions, volpino. There are…individuals, hmm…authority figures in my organization. Let me rephrase that - there are individuals in my organization who think they have authority. They have to approve the song.”

“And you think they won’t?” You ask, suddenly feeling like you are hearing things that perhaps you shouldn’t be privy to. Secrets unraveling, another chapter of this mystery opening the more the man talks. 

“Perhaps they do not like me very much,” Terzo says wryly, a dry smile on his lovely features. 

“I don’t see how anyone could dislike you,” you say, that pink touching your cheeks again. Your words make Terzo chuckle quietly, and he rests his elbow on the table as he brings a thumb to his mouth, wrapping his lips around the tip of it as he looks at you with nearly hooded eyes. 

“Do you like me?” He asks softly. 

The old jukebox in the corner, its light flickering faintly, comes to life with a squeaking click as one of the worn tracks slides into place. It takes a moment for the speaker to push out the song, crackling before settling into a low static hum behind the vocals of none other than Frank Sinatra. 

“I love this song,” Terzo says, looking pleasantly surprised as he stands and strides closer to the jukebox, placing his hands on the glass to peer closer at the inner workings of the old thing. You breathe a small sigh of relief, or is it disappointment, as you dodge his question.

“That thing turns on by itself all the time. Something inside must be busted,” you say, standing up to move beside him.

“Ah, not broken. Simply yearning to sing, sì?” He says, glancing over at you with an amused smile. “You know this song?”

“Frank Sinatra?” 

“Molto bene, mio volpino.” Terzo takes a step back from the jukebox, a hand pressing against his chest as he tilts his head up and closes his eyes. “Over and over I keep going over the world we knew,” his voice floats effortlessly, soft and persuasive, in the space between you. “Days when you used to love me.” 

You watch him sing with parted lips, your brow furrowing as you’re filled with awe, but also an ache deep in your chest. A yearning for the strange man you fear will disappear from your memory forever when you leave this diner. He opens his eyes and pins you with a stare, his smile very soft, but quirks in a way which whispers mischief. Terzo holds his hands out to you, fingers curled slightly as he tilts his head to the side. “Dance with me?” He says, his tone gently demanding. “With Papa now, sì?” 

“That’s the second time you said that,” you note with a small grin, reaching out to place your hands in his. His fingers are chilled as he pulls you in, a hand naturally falling to your waist. Your breath catches, and he smiles. 

“Ah, slip of the tongue,” he murmurs, his eyes scanning the blush on your features.

“Something you do often?” Your voice is a little breathless as he turns the both of you, and you look down at your feet, chewing on your bottom lip as you beg whatever deity out there to not step on his. 

Terzo lets go of your hand for a moment to gently tap your chin. “Eyes up, tesoro. And as for your question…,” a wide smile crosses his face, a tiny chip in his front tooth. “I use my tongue very often.” His pink tongue wets his bottom lip, drawing it into his mouth for a moment before slowly and sensually letting go. 

Your eyes widen and you giggle nervously, “You are…something.” 

“Something good?” His eyes flicker with amusement before his mouth pops open in a little ‘O’ shape. “Ah, yes! You never answered my question.” He pulls back to spin you around, laughing again when you do an awkward little turn on your heel. He draws you even closer then, his hand flexing against the small of your back. “Do you like me?”

“We just met.” Your voice is small, and your eyes focus intently on the dark chest hair peeking out from his purple button-up. 

“Sometimes meeting is all it takes,” he murmurs. 

Your eyes find his again, and you don’t think you’re dancing anymore, but you’re still swaying - your heart, your mind. Swept up in the softness of his eyes as they look back at you with…hope. Glaring desperately from green and white depths. The vestiges of a younger, happier man. And there’s a part of you that wants to cry. 

“I like you very much, Terzo Emeritus.”

His response isn’t what you expect. His head raises slightly and he peers at you with curiosity, his brow furrowing as he searches your eyes for some kind of answer to a question you aren’t privy to. You get the sense that he doesn’t believe you, that he’s waiting for the punchline to some cosmic joke. “Well!” He says finally, his face dropping back into that easy smile. He waves a hand. “I am an old man. Do you see? I moisturize but,” he clicks his tongue. “The lines, they grow. I appreciate you entertaining me, eh?” 

Your brow furrows and your mouth presses into a thin line as you gaze past him with the intent to figure out what the fuck he’s talking about. “You think I can’t like you because…you have wrinkles?” The word comes out slightly high pitched and confused. “Make it make sense, Mr. Emeritus.” 

Terzo’s bushy eyebrows fly into his hairline and he looks vaguely disturbed. “I am not called that often…it is weird.”

“Oh, right. You’re Papa,” you wiggle your brows, and the man groans. His fingers dig into the small of your back and he pulls you closer, dipping his chin to regard you with a heated stare that sends a shiver down your spine. 

“You should be careful with that, amore,” he murmurs, his voice low like the crackling of firewood, flames licking over the endearment. “I could have you saying ‘Papa’ in a more…breathless manner, hmm?” 

His words alone are enough to knock the wind out of you, and he knows it, a twinkle in the man’s eyes that tells you this isn’t his first passion play. The song is long over, the jukebox having gone back to its eerie nostalgic silence, yet he turns you again, his shoes sliding along the faded linoleum floor like butter. You are, perhaps, less graceful. 

“I thought you were too old?” You ask him, narrowing your eyes. Terzo looks briefly affronted, and the nearly outraged expression on his face makes you burst into giggles. He wags his finger in front of your face before placing both of his hands around your back, lacing his fingers together and drawing you forward until your hips are flush. That shuts you up very quickly. 

“I know what you are doing,” he purrs. “But I can play, too.” He smiles and sighs, looking up at the cracking ceiling before returning your gaze. “And yet I see your point. But it is true, volpino. I am much, much older than you.” 

“I think whether or not I’m bothered by that is my decision, don’t you?” You ask.

Terzo concedes, tilting his head a little. “In my faith, it is encouraged to follow your desires.” 

“Oh, right. Your non-cult cult. How could I forget,” you tap your finger to your temple and Terzo chuckles. You smile back, wrapping your arms around his neck. A million possibilities, a million ways the night could have gone, and you got the one with Terzo. Your smile softens, your eyes taking on a tender reverence, and you can see pink dance at the edges of his cheeks. His wrinkles smooth as his face falls into almost boyish wonder while the two of you sway to nothing. No, that’s not right. You’re swaying to a music all your own. 

“You have a really nice face,” you murmur, your voice coming out in a soft hush. 

“You aren’t lying.” It’s said as a statement. Confusion lining his words, his eyes widen just a fraction. This isn’t the first time in the night where you wanted to just…ask him if he’s okay? Hug him. Your words appear to confound him, and a hand lets go of your waist to touch his cheek, his fingers following one of the deeper lines. “You know, in my line of work, I usually wear a full face of makeup.”

“Is this where you tell me you go by…Paprika Smear or something?” You tease, eyebrows raised. 

Terzo laughs so hard, everyone in the diner, who isn’t already watching you like you’re the first interesting thing to happen in decades, are gaping now. Penny hasn’t turned the page in her National Enquirer in the last ten minutes. “No, no, no. Ah, my naughty volpino. What I am trying to say,” he clears his throat. “I do not show my face often. What you said…grazie mille. I am often not kind to myself.”

“I have no reason to lie. We just met, Terzo. This is my perception of you. My honesty. I feel like you’re looking for a different answer or…looking for deception.” 

“I am looking for something real,” he says, with vulnerability in his eyes. “It has been a very long time since I have had something real.” Terzo releases your waist and removes your arms from around his neck, but he holds your hands in his. His thumbs rub circles into your skin, admiring the contrast of your hands together, and he brings them closer, cradling them near his chest. 

“I can be real,” you say, turning your hands to lace your fingers through his despite his tight grip. Terzo takes a deep breath, his lower lip quivering slightly as he thinks. 

“And if I told you to know me is to know Satan? If there are dangers in my life, amorino? Things your beautiful, sweet mind could perhaps not comprehend?” His voice has turned nearly desperate in his speech, pained. And yet despite his warnings, you don’t feel afraid, or concerned. There are no red flags waving over Terzo’s head. You just see someone very alone. 

The shrill ring of a cell phone slices through the tension like a heated blade, and the two of you freeze for a moment before Terzo sighs, heavily, his shoulders falling like rocks have been placed on his shoulders. He gently pulls away from you, his hands lowering yours back to your sides before he’s digging into his pocket. “Sì?” He snaps into the phone, listening to the voice on the other end. “Perhaps I am not ready to come back…because I am Papa and I say so…of course I understand!” Terzo runs a hand through his hair, the strands sticking up in a few places. “You tell that stronzo he can wait…ah-but…dai!...alright, alright. I will see you soon.” 

Terzo puts his phone back in his pocket, and looks at you with an apologetic smile. “It seems our dance comes to an end, eh?” You stand facing each other, and panic seizes your heart in a fist. If Terzo walks out that door, you may never see him again. It almost strikes you as odd, the way he managed to wrestle his way into your very being in your short evening here at the diner. There was no feasible way you could sit back down and go back to writing, surrounded by the same monotony while this man is somewhere in the world. 

“You know,” you begin, taking a step toward him. “I’ve been really into theistic Satanism lately. Gosh, if only there was a place, or someone, that could guide me.”

Terzo stares at you with an unreadable expression, and then he takes a step forward, and places his lips against your forehead. He chuckles softly, “My evil plans worked, volpino. I am converting you.” He pulls back to wink. “You like me.” 

“I already told you that-” 

“Sì, sì, I am only teasing,” his smile broadens and he smooths back a strand of hair from your forehead. “This is a big thing for Papa, no? Something real.” 

“You’re going to have to tell me why you keep calling yourself that,” you giggle, shaking your head. Terzo’s fingers cradle your jaw and tilt your head to meet his gaze. 

“Come and find out.”

Another look is shared between the diner writer and the mysterious stranger. But this one? It’s a look of yearning. Yearning for a future that changes the both of you. That a man can learn to love himself again. That the walls of this diner will let you go. Terzo grabs his jacket and his little notebook, and you slip your hand into his pocket to grab his phone. 

“Already, amore?” He says, his grin wide, and you laugh and swat him with a hand. You type your number into his phone and slip it back, but Terzo grabs your wrist. He brings your hand to his lips and gently kisses the soft skin. “I will see you soon,” he promises. 

“Arrivederci, Terzo,” you sigh dreamily. 

“Eh, we will work on your Italian,” the man rolls his eyes playfully. 

Terzo walks toward the door of the diner, and you sit in your seat. Is it possible to change in a single evening? You don’t feel like the same person who watched this man walk in with the perfect hair and pretty accent. And you get the feeling that he isn’t the same person now either. Terzo stands in the doorway, looking back at you, and he smiles. A smile that lights up his whole face, and is really, truly…happy. 

When he’s gone, you open your laptop and stare at the pages you had written earlier. With a wry smile, you shut your laptop off and gather your things. Walking to the front, you toss a few bucks on the counter. 

“Gettin’ cozy with that eye-talian man, huh, honey?” Penny asks, chewing her bubble gum as she looks you up and down with the eyes of a seasoned gossip. “Be back tomorrow?” 

Your phone buzzes and you glance down, grinning before taking a breath and looking back at Penny, the diner, and its forever patrons. 

“No, I don’t think I will.” 

[pedgito]

hi my darling! i would love to see eddie making u cum fast n hard and easing u through the orgasm. in a mood for attention + horneeeeeeeeee

hope u are doing well + staying healthy!!

author’s note: i love needy but attentive eddie so much so i hope you enjoy this as much as i did :(

cw: 18+ (minors dni), fem!reader, oral (f receiving), teasing/touchy eddie, eddie is the sweetest boyfriend in the world, he also loves getting his hair braided, fluff, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, aftercare, if i missed anything lmk.

word count: 3.2k

Eddie was a pleaser, albeit his lack of suaveness added to his charm. He fumbled over his words constantly, stuttered when he was nervous and around you—which was almost always. He laughed at the best and worst times—he could make a tense moment easier to get through and he chuckled through the silly ones. It was one of the reasons you fell for him so quickly.

But, if there was one thing about him that you didn’t initially expect—it was the greediness. His want, his insatiable need to make you feel good all the time. It started off small—holding your hand when you grabbed for his wrist instead, not wanting to be too touchy in public, but Eddie loved it. It was a hard switch at first, allowing yourself to have the things you wanted—even a simple touch. But, Eddie changed that part of you so quickly, you weren’t sure why it ever existed in the first place.

Eddie wasn’t always eager, he did enjoy the slow build up—he could kiss you for hours, slow presses of your lips, soft and delicate as his tongue swiped against your bottom lip, driving you crazy. He’d kiss down your face, your neck, your entire body, reaching every last surface of skin possible to taste you. If he was feeling particularly playful, he’d nip at your side—bury his face into the curve of your waist and squeeze until your squealed, the soft tickle of his curls as the dragged against your skin, his blunt fingernails bringing you to near tears as he kept on until you were begging—only then would he let up. 

He liked slipping you over his lap, thighs spread out as your knees pressed into the mattress—you’d talk for hours on end, his fingers drawing absent patterns into your jeans, or your skin sometimes, if things got far enough. He liked to draw on you often, scribbling tiny designs on your wrists and hands as you laid on his chest, fingers dangling near his face. Eddie was a better listener than most, even when he didn’t have much to offer in return—small little noises of acknowledgement as he worked or closed his eyes even, just listening to your voice. It’s only when he throws the information back at you that you realize that he was listening and it wasn’t all for show, Eddie cared about you immensely.

As much as he liked to show that in public, it was very apparent when you were alone—but in all fairness, that care was reciprocated equally. You didn’t realize how much Eddie liked to be taken care of until he’s cross legged on the floor of his trailer one night, fresh out of the shower and popping another movie into the VHS player. He doesn’t say anything, but he looks up at you, almost pleading. 

“Again?” You ask with a faint laugh, holding your hand out.

Eddie hands you the brush and hair tie without word, smiling as you gave in, combing through his hair gently. It surprised you how well Eddie actually took care of his hair—assuming he was a water and three in one shampoo type of guy, which you were so far off about. He had all the necessary supplies, deep conditioning on the weekends and even let you do hair masks once a month; it was sweet and it made you happy, so Eddie obliged. He also really enjoyed having hair braided—he’d never been able to teach himself properly to do it on himself, but he was an expert when it came to the latter.

He always pulled your hair up or braided it back before sex, a small little intimacy that you didn’t know you needed. But, Eddie loved seeing your face—it was a crime for something so beautiful to be obscured or hidden from view, especially with how pretty you looked when you came—or so he always told you. 

You slipped your fingers through his hair, the small lean of his head as he fell into your touch, letting you pull and twist until you had the hair braided toward the crown of his head, pulling the rest up into a loose bun that sat near the top. Eddie tilted his head back, looking up at you with his wide eyes, lips pursing up into a pucker as he waited quietly. You smiled knowingly, leaning down to meet his lips in a chaste kiss. 

But, it was all a trap—Eddie had his hands around your waist the moment you leaned over, carefully sliding you to the floor beside him, your body thudding to the floor gently as he chuckled, “Are you feeling up to it tonight?”

“Are you?” You asked playfully, pressing your finger into his side until he jolts away, “You passed out last night after sex—like, immediately. I couldn’t even get you dressed, I just tucked you in and left.”

“It was a long campaign,” Eddie says in defense, “I didn’t think I’d be that exhausted—but I swear, I’m ready to go—I could go for hours, actually.”

You made a face of disbelief, not really believing him, “Don’t talk a big game if you can’t follow through.”

Eddie smiled deviously, shifting to his knees as he picked you up with an eagerness, hurling your body over his shoulder in one quick, solid movement, making the swift descent toward his unmade bed.

He was absolutely going to follow through.

“You’re almost there,” Eddie pants, thighs squeezed between his hands as he pushes your legs up and apart, face buried in your cunt as you cry out, his tongue licking the swell of your clit furiously, bringing you right to the peak, before abruptly pulling back. Eddie knew your body almost as well as you; he wasn’t going to let you come that easy, not yet, “need to hear you beg for it, baby.”

Eddie didn’t like to edge you as much as he enjoyed it for himself—it was like torture for you, feeling so overwhelmed and hot, overtaken and desperate, all for it to be ripped away at the last second. But, he loved hearing you, seeing you, the small pout in your lips as he pulled back.

“Ask nicely,” Eddie tuts, smug grin covering his face, “you know your manners, sweetheart.”

And it seems contradictory to his usual attitude, so eager to please, but you fall for it every time; putty in his hands as he leans forward, just a breath away from touching you.

“Fuck, please,” You reply desperately, “—we haven’t even fucked yet and you’re already being—“

“A what?” Eddie asks teasingly, leaning over to nip at your thigh, teeth tugging gently at the flesh. “Say it.”

“You’re being mean,” You say petulantly, “it’s not fair, Eddie.”

Eddie shakes head slightly, “Not mean—just selfish, sweetheart—love hearing that sweet little voice of yours when you beg to come.”

You sigh softly, knowing that Eddie wouldn’t give you what you wanted until gave him what he wanted in return, it was a fair game of give and take.

So you turn it on, embarrassing yourself with how needy you sound, “Please, Eddie—will you let me come?”

“I know you’re trying to be coy,” Eddie snarks back, “but it’s still working for me.” And of course it is.

You shove his head gently, pulling at the curls near the crown of his head until he’s looking at you, eyes attentive, mouth slack.

“I’m serious,” You tell me, voice soft and pleading, “I need it—it’s not one of those nights. I just wanna feel good, please?”

Eddie nods eagerly, lips grazing against your folds lightly, tongue pressing flat against the seam of your cunt, hot and wet against his tongue at the taste of your slick—he’d never get enough.

Eddie isn’t about wasting time either, giving you exactly what you asked for—it builds up quickly, intensely, his hands joining his mouth in a perfect synonymous pattern pleasure, working every last nerve-ending until you were practically screaming his name, gasping on a choked breath as you orgasm hits you hard, blindsiding you completely. You can’t even keep your eyes open, head falling back as you moaned openly through the rapid waves of pleasure, cunt spasming as Eddie continued, working you through the end of your orgasm—but the feeling still lingers, like the speed and intensity of it didn’t allow you feel it at its full potential, leaving you wanting even more.

Eddie noticed your discomfort, face pinched up in frustration as you panted, cursing out a soft, “Fuck.”

“Not enough?” Eddie asks with a small hint of assumption, pulling to his knees slightly, thighs spread out as he tucked his own under yours. He rubs at the top of them soothingly, squeezing at the bare skin, “That one seemed rough—you think you can handle another?”

You nod dumbly, shifting up on your hands until you’re leaned up slightly, shirt scrunched up your stomach, cunt aching and swollen as it shifted against nothing, almost like Eddie was holding your thighs apart for a reason—an unfair one, at that.

Again, he was insatiable—sometimes downright annoying, if he wanted to be. But, you couldn’t stand it, not tonight—like his long day from yesterday, you felt the sentiment fully. You needed it, wanting to pass out from coming so hard, vision whiting out, body going numb—it was an out of body experience that you couldn’t quite describe, but you yearned for it on days like this, the distraction was more than welcomed.

“Not gonna fuck you,” He settles, slipping his hand past the band of his boxers to take his growing cock in hand, feeling the twitch as he takes hold, having not touched himself the entire night, “not yet, baby.”

“Eddie,” You plead, lip pulled down in a subtle pout, impatiently reaching for the waistband of his boxers, only to be stopped by his fingers wrapping around your wrist, holding you back, “please—I need it.”

“I know,” He chuckles softly, using the control his has on your hand to guide it over his dick, fingers grazing the outline of his hand as your fingers mold over his as he ruts into his own hand—it feels incredibly intimate, his eyes never really leaving your face, only glancing toward your joined hands briefly when he squeezed a little too hard, pulling a deep, guttural groan from his chest, “god—I fuckin’ know, sweetheart.”

But, you really can’t help it anymore—growing more impatient as the moment passes, pulling eagerly at the fabric covering himself and Eddie’s kind enough, so he gives in, allowing you to pull his underwear down far enough to where it’s tucked under his balls, settled halfway down his thighs, giving you a full, unobstructed view of his dick, something you’d never get tired of. 

He squeezed at the base, face scrunched up in concentration as he keens his hips forward, angry tip of his cock pressing into your folds gently, the pooled wetness soaking him quickly and he smiles at the soft moan you release when he drags the line of his cock up the seam of your cunt.

“Fuck, you weren’t joking,” Eddie breathes out, the tip of his dick pressing against your clit in a way that has you gasping out into the quiet air, spurring him further, dragging it against you teasingly until you’re practically gasping for air, still sensitive from your previous orgasm, “she wants it so bad.”

And frankly, you could come at the idea of Eddie always treating your pleasure, your body, like it was its only sentient being, apart from you—but right now, you were just frustrated.

You shake your head furiously, “Switch,” You tell him, not giving him much room to argue, but still he does, return a short laugh and a head shake, letting you know he wasn’t quite done—unfortunately for him, he was, “Eddie, switch—now.”

“But, sweetheart—wuh,” Eddie isn’t prepared for the sudden shift, yanking him down until you can change the dynamic, shoving him against the mattress, tearing off the last article of clothing covering your body, hands placed firmly on his chest as you hover over, allowing him a short duration to adjust, “—Woah, okay—“

You shush him softly, reaching between your bodies to grasp his cock, heavy and warm in your hands, as you like him up at your entrance, his wide eyes watching intently, disappearing into your cunt as you sink down slowly, a soft nudge at your hips as his hands take hold, thumbs dipping into the fold where your thighs met your pelvis, guiding you down carefully.

“S’good,” He comments, “so fucking good, baby.”

Eddie was pussy drunk and rambling most of the time, so caught up in the moment that he didn’t even remember half of the shit he said, but it was more than welcomed in the moment, his raw and shot tone driving a deep hit of pleasure to your core, the soft grip of his rough, calloused hands as he held on, feeling like you were his only source of grounding himself. 

“And you wanted to wait,” You chide, whining softly at the sharp thrust of his hips as he fits fully inside of you, settled to the base, the full stretch as you adjusted to him, molded to him like he was made for you, “and now you get to sit,” Your fingers drag up to pull at his chain, guitar lick hanging over his chest, guiding him upright, “and watch.”

Eddie nods shakily, shifting back slightly on his hands to lean away, giving you the room to move, but allowing him the perfect view of you—your breasts, your body, your face, the ungodly sight of you sinking down on his cock, again and again. He couldn’t believe this was his life now—and that he had you. 

“Take it, babe,” He groans lowly, thighs spreading wide to give you support, the slow bounce of your hips as you start to move, it was just the nudge you needed to give in, “fucking take it.”

Your head falls back, hips bouncing at a slow, gentle rhythm. Your hands settle against his shoulder at first, allowing you some stability as you move, but giving you every reason to touch, feeling the muscle tense with every downward stroke, ass slapping against his thighs noisily. Eddie moans quietly, trying not to tip off how ruined he already was, but you hear it—you always do, like your ears were trained for it.

It spurs you, his hand traveling up the length of your body, over your thighs, up your stomach, grazing over the soft mound of your breasts until his hand falls against the curve where your shoulder meets your neck, the pad of his thumb rubbing soft, gentle circles into the skin. He’s itching for it, he wants to touch you, devour you, but he’s holding off, for his own sake rather than yours—because the moment he gives in, he’s done.

The pace picks up gradually, a thin sheen of sweat covering your body from exertion and Eddie’s lack of cool air flowing through his room, but you didn’t mind—it smelt like weed and sex and cigarettes, everything that reminded you of him, and a small hint of bergamot from his cologne. Eddie’s still being quiet, struggling, eyebrows pulled tight, his mouth hung open in a low moan. 

“Fuck, stop holding back,” You complain lightly, “I wanna hear you, Eddie.”

Eddie nods slowly, eyes brimming with lust, their normal brown shadowed by a dark need to please, to be everything that you want him to be.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” He apologizes, “it’s a little embarrassing.”

You shake your head, pulling a needy whine from his throat as you raise your hips sharply, slamming back down with fervor, his hands grip at your waist instinctively, holding you tight.

“It’s not,” You tell him seriously, hands threading through his curls, pulling tight until his head was taut and angled up at you, his mouth open in a soft pant, “I want to hear all of it.”

Eddie nods again, less focused—his pulling you against him now, aiding in his desperate attempt to fuck you until you couldn’t speak; it was working, unfortunately, your voice catching in your throat as he changed the dynamic, shifting onto his shins as he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist securely, giving you no choice but to hold on to him, trust him. 

“Oh—“ You gasp loudly, allowing Eddie to push the hair that had fallen from it’s loose braid away from your face, soft eyes boring into his pensive ones, focused and determined—if it weren’t for the stray curl that fell over his forehead, you’d feel intimidated, but it softened his features immensely, “Eddie, I can’t—“

“You almost there?” He asks hotly, hot breath fanning over your chest.

“No—can’t, can’t come—it’s,” You grunt softly in frustration, feeling his hand move swiftly toward your clit, but it’s like you’re stuck, “it’s like I’m too distracted—I don’t know—“

“Hey,” He coos, pulling your face down to look at him—he’s checking in, eyes searching your frustrated expression, “close your eyes for me, baby.”

“But, I like looking at you.” You pout, earning a soft, stern look in return. You smile faintly, allowing your eyes to fall shut against your own will.

“Just focus,” He tells you softly, voice falling off on a soft groan, the dull slap of skin against skin as he fucks into you, the soft squelch of your slick and his, his thumb rubbing slow, deliberate circles against your clit. It’s right there—right fuck there and it hurts almost, but you need it, “I got you.”

You nod weakly, mouth falling open in a strained gasp as Eddie applies more pressure, switches the angle of hips slightly, leaving you defenseless and pliant to his orders, the delicate touches and focused hands.

You didn’t even realize your orgasm was hitting you until Eddie stalls, coming almost exactly when you do, spilling himself deep inside of you—it’s just as quick and hard as the first one, but hits even deeper, like a full body ache as you scream out on a choked whine, the soft praises of Eddie’s voice as he follows through, sounding just as wrecked. His hand never falters, working you through the waves of aftershocks, your body rocking against his touch helplessly, feeling every nerve in your body seize at the over-stimulation until you can’t breathe, falling tiredly into Eddie’s hold.

He laughs softly, face buried in the warm crook of your neck, the outline of a smile pushing against your skin as you breathe deep, trying to bring yourself back down. 

“Still with me?” Eddie asks after a while, rubbing his fingers against the soft skin of your back, soothing you more than he’d ever understand. 

“Yeah,” you reply softly, “sort of.”

Eddie chuckles again, pulling back to look at you, head cradled in his hands. 

“Shower first, sleep later,” Eddie instructs, nodding toward the small bathroom down the hall, “I’ll help.”

“But, you already showered.” You tell him, eyebrows pulled up in confusion. “Why would you—“

“Someone’s gotta hold you up,” Eddie says teasingly, “I can still feel your legs shaking.”

On cue, you feel the strained muscles quiver, legs feeling like jello around his hips. Eddie gives you a pointed look, waiting for you to give up your inherent stubbornness and let him take care of you properly.

“Fine,” You say with a soft sigh, failing to hide your smile as he digs his fingers into your side, biting at the soft flesh of your stomach playfully, “—Eddie, cut it out.” 

“Not a chance, sweetheart.” He tells you, leaning up to press a soft kiss to your lips, whispering a quiet admission of love against them. 

[atalentedwriter]

— love is a million things

paring: e-1610!miles x blackfemspidey!reader (both spider people)

a/n: i don't speak spanish i'm sorry but i used the most accurate translator i could find. if i made ANY mistakes, feel free to hmu and tell me i will certainly change em. gif from @luvjunie

sypnosis: in which the reader is in love with miles but there's really no way of winning if in his eyes, you'll always be just a friend (he loves gwen not you) (ノへ￣、)

wordcount: 1,870 words and 9,904 characters

genre: fluff, teenagers, romance, unrequited love, angst, slightly suggestive but not really

translations: "no lo parece" - "doesn't seem like it." "dime ya las pistas." - "just tell me the hints already. "dime otra pista." - "tell me another hint."

"I'm just saying, love is a million things. Sometimes it feels good, sometimes it doesn't." You say as you sit on Miles' bed, the male looking at you from his desk, turning around in his chair and shrugging you off.

"Yeah right, and have you ever experienced love to know what that feels like?" Miles asked and you paused, hesitant with your response before you bite your lower lip and nod.

"I'd like to think I have, yes." You say, looking down at your feet and then up at Miles who looked at you intently. Wow, he had really beautiful eyes.

"Oh yeah? And did it feel good or bad?" He questions as a small frown forms on your lips. "Sometimes...a lot of times..it...- it differs okay, it differs but that's besides my point-" you say and he laughs, your heart fluttering at the sound, despite knowing him since the first day he walked into Brooklyn Visions, his laugh and voice just did something to you.

"How'd that end out for you? The guy didn't like you back or what?" He says, turning around to his desk as you grab his pillow and hold it up to your stomach. How are you gonna describe him to him without him figuring it out?

"Well, let's just say, there was 3 of us in the situationship.." you start off and you notice his ears perk up. "Oh?" He asks. You roll your eyes. "Not in that way silly, it wasn't poly or anything it was more of an unrequited love situation."

He picks up his sketchbook and turns back to you. "That must suck." He said, looking up at you. "It did.." "How did you get over it." You frown. "I didn't, it's hard to stop loving someone when everything they do makes you fall back in love with them."

He laughed again and shook his head. "That's so corny." He rolled his chair over to where you sat on the bed and open his sketchbook, placing it in your lap.

"Another drawing...of Gwen..." you seethe.

"Yup, I really think I got her suit down but I'm just relying on memory here." He says as you bite your cheek. "I mean I'd like to think she still kept her hair, I mean it's a bit weird to walk around with someone's handprint in your head- gosh I still get ptsd from that da-"

"Why do you bother liking her?" You blurt out.

uh-oh. word vomit.

"What?" Miles asks, taken aback as he looks at you.

"I mean, she's in a completely different universe Miles, it's never gonna happen." You say, your words coming out a bit ruder than you had wanted it to.

He frowns and looks at you. "Well damn (y/n), sorry. I can't control what I feel." Miles said as he picks up his notebook from your lap and rolls away back to his desk, his eyebrows furrowed and a frown on his face.

"oh my gosh.." You mutter out, running your hand over your face before you look up at him. "Miles I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

"Then what did you mean it like?" Miles asks, not bothering to look at you.

"I just- don't want to see you get hurt. You're my best friend okay and...I care a lot about your feelings and...-"

"No lo parece." He grumbled under his breath, and thanks to your enhanced senses, you picked it up.

"Excuse me?" You say, as a hothead, you were already getting defensive but you sighed and unballed your fists. That's why you liked Miles, why you needed him around, he calmed you down without you both even knowing it. "It's just....sigh..interdimensional love never works out, I've seen it in the movies-"

"Pfft-"

The small muffled laughter catches your attention. "What?" You question as you look up to see Miles staring at you, hand over his mouth. "Are you laughing at me? I'm pouring my heart out to you man."

"Sorry, I just can't take you seriously everytime you talk about movies like that one time we got stuck in that elevator-" he starts.

"I thought we were gonna run out of air!" You counter, whining as he starts laughing at you. And just like that, you were back to your regular state, neither of you guys can be mad at each other for long.

You stayed silent for a few seconds before you look up at him to find the boy already staring at you and it sends butterflies down your stomach. "Hey Miles..?"

"Hm?" He hums, rolling his chair to get closer to you until he was sitting right next to the edge of the bed where you currently were.

"Um, what would you do if you loved someone- in this dimension-"

"Ouch.." the boy playfully said and you rolled your eyes.

"But they loved someone else.." you finish.

"First of all love is a very strong word." Miles starts off and narrows his eyes at you, causing you to straighten your back at his gaze.

"Well in this context it's accurate, like I'd do crazy things for this man...like a lot-" you start, and Miles rolls his eyes.

"I don't need to know what you'd do twin." Miles jokes as you smile before he crosses his arms. "Does the guy know you like him?"

You look at Miles and shake your head. "No."

"Have you given him hints you like him?" Miles raises an eyebrow and you bite your lip.

"What kind of hints?"

"Touching."

"Define that, cause we're touching right now." You motion to how his arm that was on his knee was barely grazing your leg. He looked down and then looked up before breaking out into a grin.

"If that's your definition of touching then you're super touch starved." Miles laughed as you sigh.

"Dime ya las pistas." You say, agitated.

"Okay okay, so touching, just subtle touches...like...this." Miles looks down and moves his hand and places it on your lap, using his thumb to work on rubbing small circles on your inner thigh, rubbing his hand slowly but subtly on your lap before looking up and smiling at you. He was flashing that oh-so-beautiful smile at you.

The fact that you were wearing shorts made it easier to feel his warm skin on yours. The sparks that this simple movement sent coursing through you made you wonder if he was using his zap on you.

"See, you're blushing." He says, cooing at you jokingly.

"Am not!" You counter as you snap out of your trance, looking at him. Had it not been for the melanin on your face right now, you would've been red like a tomato. Lord, this man knew just how to touch and rub your skin. (pause, what are you thinking about? 🤨) Your cheeks were hot.

"Or like this." He moved his hand from your lap and you almost whined at the absence of his hand on you but then he moved his hand to your arm, caressing it softly.

Your eyes followed his hands, almost in a trance-like state before you look back up at the boy.

"Now that's just one tactic.." he said as he started talking but you couldn't hear a damn word.

His beautiful face so close to your skin and the fact that he still hadn't stopped caressing your arm, ugh. You hated this, he was so lovable, it was hard to just let go of these feelings especially since this man never gave you an ick! His dorky nature fit him and was cute on him and his teenage awkwardness was even more adorable. And he's so attractive when he's spiderman- hold up, what was he saying again?

"...kiss me." He spoke out, ending his sentence.

"What?!" You say, shocked, where you daydreaming or something?

"What?" He asked as he raised an eyebrow. "Were you even listening to what I was saying?"

"Somethin' kissin' or somethin' i don't know.." You mutter out as he laughs.

"You're unbelievable. I meant you have to be bold with your actions but not too bold and you have word vomits a lot so don't just like tell him to kiss you or something like that." He said as it dawned on you.

"Oh, that made much more sense."

He bit his lip and smiled causing your eyes to flicker down to his lips that looked just too kissable. Damn. You looked back up to find him already looking at you with an unreadable expression on his face, just now realizing how close he was.

"What..?" You say, your voice coming out breathless. He looked down, shaking his head before looking up at you with a smile, your eyes meeting.

"...You're like...the weirdest girl I've ever met." He spoke out which caused you to put your hands on his chest and push him back.

"Whatever!" You say, snapping out of the trance he had pulled you into once again.

He chuckled and moved back but only momentarily before leaning back in again, confusing you. He put both arms at the side of you, resting it on the bed as he leaned in closer.

You thought he was going to kiss you, it looked like it and so you tensed up unknowingly to which the boy raised an eyebrow, cracking another one of his contagious smiles.

"Relax, I'm just getting my markers." He moves up his right hand to show the markers he already had in his grip, he was just leaning in for them, you felt stupid. "I'm not gonna hit you or anything." He says, leaning back into his chair as you sighed.

"Dime otra pista." You say. You can't belive Miles was teaching you how to rizz him up.

"Well another one would be like teasing or like going out of your way to talk to them and eye contact is a big one." Miles concluded, resting his leg horizontally on his other one.

A few moments of comfortable silence passed with Miles looking at you and you just looking at your lap.

"Miles...?" You asked as he hummed again in response. "Do you ever plan on leaving Brooklyn? And have you ever thought about what would happen if you do? Like with spiderman and stuff?" You ask as he takes a moment to consider your question.

"Well.." He pauses. "I'm not sure, I do know I want to study outside Brooklyn for university that's for sure, I mean there's people out there that can-"

"Teach me stuff I want to know." You finish his sentence for him and he pauses and looks at you.

"Freaky." He says with a grin as you giggle. "But it'll all fall into place, I'm sure, I don't want to worry about the future too much yknow?"

"Yeah.." you mutter and look at him again.

"What about you?" He asks, tilting his head to the side.

"I'll go wherever you go Miles.." You reply subconsciously as you smile at him.

"Okay you've gotta get better life goals for yourself." Miles jokes as you two fall into a heap of giggles, leaving you with a new-found goal already.

You were going to confess to this man.

[stinkypeanutbutter]

silly Aiden headcanons because I have no impulse

i probably already done these before in other headcanon posts I made but ermm I’ll do it again 😹

small TW for scars at the end 🗣🗣

AIDEN :

Aiden has the most unhinged playlist ever like oh my giggly goodness we got metal we got rock we got classic we got indie we got pop we got vocaloid Idfk whatever you can think of ( same 😹 )

totally had an immense phase of just everything . Creepy pasta , animation , FNAF , idk any other phases from 2016 help

Probably dated like once or twice , but they weren’t serious at ALL and mostly online . He just said yes because he wanted to be nice since he never really had friends ofc , so why hurt someone you barley know if it means getting a friend ? ( I’m gonna explode 😭 )

I’m not sure when this was actually invented , but he’d probably try and convince everyone to make battery acid candy drinks . ( they all say no 😔 )

Sorta sad headcanon they if no matter how hard to tries to solve a difficult puzzle , and he fails , he just starts silently bawling his eyes out . Cause you know he’s really good at them right ? He can solve them pretty quickly ? So if he’s like absolutely pressured by a bunch of people watching expecting him to win ( or like his friends cause yk they believe in him !!!! ) and he can’t solve the puzzle he’ll be like “ why can’t I solve this why is this hard why am I failing “ or something and then start crying ig ( Yeouchers angst 😿 )

Bro is the heaviest napper ever you can stack things on him for HOURS but the moment he actually sleeps most things can wake him ( if he’s not comfortable at least . He’ll sleep pretty well at sleepovers )

I can’t figure out an art style for him but I updated it so ignore that last drawing it’s grody anyway he sometimes draws people but prefers just random splotches of color . He has extremely stylized art but yk , it’s just ‘ weird ’ according to some people since it’s really . . graphic . Not in a BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD way but very mixed ( if you get what I mean )

Hugs everything when he sleeps you can’t tell me otherwise like you seen his old bed ?? He had NOTHIN so absolutely is he gonna cuddle everything near him

Hates competing . ( idk if he did it before but we’ll see ) like he doesn’t like doing puzzle competitions anymore that much , he just got bored of it and was really kinda forced to do it when he was younger . BUT if it’s in a game against his friends , he’ll probably do it just to help them out cause they always get stuck if Logan can’t figure it out either .

Does that thing with music where If it absolutely hits he just starts spazzing out and dances to it

that one thing where he walks around in a circle talking to himself if he’s really deep in thought ( he could go on for hours so someone has to pull him out to drink water at least )

TONS of posters in his room

Him and Taylor binge shows together , often ask the others to join when they aren’t busy . They totally watch anime ( Tyler calls it childish then gets really invested in uhhhh let’s say full metal alchemist and sport animes like haikyuu or something I can’t think of any he’d like . But I’m gonna make them all watch Ghost stories because it’s funny )

Aidlyn cuddling is mostly done at Aidens house cause his parents rarely go up to check on him ( 😅💥 ) and also he had a ton of blankets for Ashlyn to wrap herself in . He got her a heavy weighted blanket for her birthday one time so when that’s not around she just uses Aiden as a blanket if she’s feeling affectionate ( he’s warm in the winter time and pretty light believe it or not )

Has a medium spice tolerance , eats more then what he can handle like a stinky loser

doesn’t like anyone pointing out his growing hair roots so just don’t talk about it much 😅😅

steals chopsticks from restaurants cause who needs to buy any ??? They’re free if you don’t get caught / hj

sometimes just locks himself up in his room and lays in his bed thinking about life

LOVES drawing his friends ( especially Ash ) in his free time because he rarely draws in front of people , and will make an airplane out of it to throw it over to them . But he has that mentality where “ Everyrhing I make kinda sucks “ so expect to find doodles in the trash or hidden in his room

IPad kid , can’t tel me otherwise .

Loves hover boarding but he kinda sucks at it so he just 🧍🕺☠️ ( falls )

Will ram into everyone in bumper cars , almost sent someone flying ( Lilly , he bought her candy as a sorry )

rarely catches cavities because he actually has really strong teeth and willingly bites down on hard candies ( I do the same thing because I’m impatient 😹 )

Does all his school work at home cause school has too many distractions ( real )

Buys like body foundation to smear onto his legs and arms . He doesn’t want anyone to point out them out , and if they do he just tells them their from skateboarding . It can come off after a few days if he doesn’t reapply , but it’s fine since he does it again in between and would have to reapply anyway . Idk how it works 😿

Anyway who shall I do next ????? Put your answers in the comment section below subscribe like and support my Patreon see you in the next video 😹😹😹☝️☝️💥💥

[newbornwhumperfly]

in defense of lightening...

so, uh, i love when whumpees think they deserve to suffer and it's even more fun when whumpers think so too! 😈😈😈🥺🥺🥺 here's a silly little snippet of Morja suffering at the hands of Jorah "Self Righteous is my Middle Name" Cuthbert 😩

written for the @whumpmasinjuly prompt - day 3: "____ deserved it" - because it's glorious and delicious and fitting for my blorbos 💖

title insp. by this hanif abdurraqib quote - “in defense of lightening, there is always a darkness asking to be split open.”

~

Annoyingly, the asset is limping. 

The rec room on this stiflingly small base is stupid-small and doesn’t leave much room for hiding in corners, but Morja seems to be doing his best to stay out of everyone’s way, at least. Small blessings. But he hasn’t left the rest of present company alone, lingering by the water cooler and taking infuriating little sips of a paper cup. 

Short journeys, quiet shuffling steps, from the cooler to the corner. Cooler to corner. Jorah’s jaw tics. The soft drag of the tip of his shoe across the floor. Lift, absence of pressure, drag, tiptoe, mouse-step, take more water, scurry away. Fuck, can’t he just take the whole industrial jug at this point and leave well enough alone? 

Like a mosquito buzzing near his ear and never quite landing, Jorah just can’t ignore it. He’s lost a second round of Battleship to Pfeffer, inducing one of the guy’s booming chuckles in the wake of slipped curses. He doubts anyone else has noticed - it’s not exactly obvious. Whether the asset isn’t feeling very sulky today or else he’s too chicken-shit to fish for sympathy while Jorah is in the room, Morja is behaving himself. 

It’s not like anyone can see it either. It’s not like anyone knows why the little creep is dragging his heels around. But if the twinge of soreness in Jorah’s arm is anything to go by, Morja’s soles have gotta be smarting in the hours since last night. In the cool shadow of the corner, he leans against a wall to spare his stance.

His soles were that pre-bruise red, that deep shade right before purple Jorah knows well by eye, the welts in perfect straight lines over the arch of his thick skin. Jorah has to work for the break in the skin. Had to stop before it bled, before the lines broke altogether, even though a scream, hard to draw out as blood, broke in muffled echo through the rag between the asset’s teeth. Jorah is patient, he’s not some fucking brute who doesn’t know what he’s doing. He knows when to stop. 

Knows when to reel back, gloved hand gripping the black metal ruler firmly. It’s shimmering ricochet gleams in the low-wattage, unstained by its task. God, Jorah admires military hardware. Even tools as simple as this have many uses, such as drawing out beads of sweat from the asset’s screwed-up face, rolling down into his dark hair, in making the skin of his knuckles bleach white with clenching, making those bare feet quiver and dance to the beat of Jorah’s tune, unable to fake. 

The way those thickly callused toes flinch in their tight bonds can’t be faked. 

It's different than the spasm drawn out by the jolt of electricity across his feet. Jorah's baton can always cause that. Getting the skin tender, blistered. But some days, you've gotta hit something. And the response - the jerk, the whine at the tail end of a trailing yelp, the harsh drag of breath through the nostrils - feels practiced in a way that doesn't at all discourage the conversation.

That’s the beauty of physical pain. It might not “work” for traditional interrogation but it sure does tell you a lot of other shit. Jorah checks the bonds over, the tight security of zip-ties over cloth, no grooves, no marks, good work. He watches a bead of sweat roll down the back of the asset’s calf, catching on dark hairs, a path down to land on one of the welts that match the feet. Watching the clench of his thigh when the stinging salt likely hurts like a motherfucker in the stripes across the backs of this thighs. 

Pain is a language everyone speaks fluently. The perfect fucking teacher. The highest grade in understanding. 

There’s a purpose to the shit he’s going to Morja. Mindless beating accomplishes nothing much - not unless you’ve got a lot of free reign to work with. And here, Jorah simply doesn’t, not with soft-touch attitude of everyone at hand. No. Until Claudia or Cobi or especially Brax - Captain Hutchins - sees the value of it, Jorah’s work has to stay discrete, even-handed, subtle. 

Unfortunately for this guy, he gives Jorah a lot of room to work with. 

“Never knew you beefed it so bad at Battleship, J-Man, wanna switch to Go-Fish?” 

Jorah blinks, shaking away the fucking mosquito buzz around his ear, snorts, flicks a little plastic boat at Cobi’s arm and it bounces off the skin. 

“Owwwww.” Cobi whines, his big dumb face wrinkling up as he flicks the boat back. Sticks his tongue out. “Sore loser.” 

“Grab you a soda and we’ll call it even.” Jorah drawls, drawing cheerful agreement from his friend as he stands, stalks to the nearby little fridge. Drawing out the cold cans in hand, he catches a you, uh, a fan of Go Fish, buddy, it’s cool if you join us, right, Jorah? 

Oh. Right. He’s still fucking there, huh?

Jorah straightens, glancing out of the corner of his eye, catching the asset, catching Morja, stock-still. Cobi’s head tilts back, yellow curled and shaggy, dog-like, beaming in the man’s direction like a spotlight. 

Morja’s stillness is broken by the flicker of his eyes, dark, narrowed, from Cobi to Jorah. Blink. Widen. Blank. Creepy. 

Jorah’s fingertips crack the tab of his soda, the sharp pop snapping through the air, a hiss of cool air, and Jorah’s mouth pulls up at the corners. 

Morja’s throat jumps in a swallow and those black blank eyes blink once-twice. Sways side to side on tiptoe. This close, Jorah hears a small squelch at the sway. Oh. Interesting. Putting cold water in his shoes, huh? Jorah’s eyes flick down to his feet, up again, close-lipped, and Morja blinks faster. 

“Yeah, man.” Jorah says. “You wanna sit down with me and Cobi?”

It’s almost boring the way Morja’s eyes widen. The way he lowers his weight down to rest on his swollen soles to spare his thighs the strain. It’s a little funny though. Like a dog trying its hardest not to look at you when it threw up behind the couch. 

Flick to Cobi. Back to Jorah. Back again. 

“I-“

Almost on cue, Cobi cuts in with a musical you don’t HAVE to, of course, only if you wanna. Jorah can always count on Cobi not to ruffle any feathers. And at that, Morja’s body unfreezes, doing his little at-attention routine, shoulders drawing back like a flinch of its own. 

“Thank you, sir, I have work to do.”

Right answer, Asset. 

“Hey.” Jorah shrugs. “If you have work to do, you should do it.”

There it is, that dumb fucking tilt of the head, like he doesn’t get it. Like he doesn’t know what’s expected of him. Has to be told fucking everything - what to eat, how to kneel, when to talk, where to shit, probably. Jorah’s mouth pulls at the corners again, his teeth grit and bare. Read the room. 

That sends the asset scurrying off, click-swallow-blink, the paper cup tumbling out of his hand into the garbage, squelch squelch squelch, and that awkward thorn-in-foot limp when he retreats, dragging one foot after another. 

Jorah’s body relaxes all at once, shoulders dropping down, rolling his neck. Fuck, corralling people in line is hard work. Whatever, a sheepdog is thankless sometimes. Still. It’s a nice thought that this idiot runs off with his tail between his legs, with wet shoes and a dry tongue, unable to sit or stand. 

Setting the sodas on the table with a wide grin, Jorah lounges back for the first time, guard settled, plucking a new little ship between his fingers. 

“Fuck Go-Fish, bro, I’m stretched and hydrated now, your fleets gonna sink.”

Cobi’s face beams and then frowns a little, glancing back towards the exit, the crinkle in his face making Jorah’s stomach sour again. “Man…I hope Morja didn’t feel left out. I don’t want him to be lonely.”

Jorah flicks another ship at Cobi, drawing another sqwuak. His shoulders are down flat now, hackles soothed. The mosquito has fucked off and the room is cool and calm again.

“Aw, big softie. Get your head in the game or I’m gonna sink your battleship. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

He deserves it. 

~ 

taglist: @much-ado-about-whumping @whump-tr0pes @haro-whumps @whumpthisway

@whumping-every-day @stoic-whumpee @whumpzone @straight-to-the-pain @redwingedwhump

@wolfeyedwitch @suspicious-whumping-egg @liliability @whumpster-draganies @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whatgoeswhumpinthenight

@tears-and-lilies @whump-me-all-night-long @scoundrelwithboba

I hope you enjoyed this little snippet cause i was so so excited to write something new again!! 🥰🥰🥰 have a very merry @whumpmasinjuly 💖

@whumpmasinjuly-archive

[sixofcrowdaydreams]

I cannot stop thinking about the implications of the Kerch alphabet on canon. I know I’m the only person who cares, but hear me out!

1. The show itself made a mistake with its own made-up language.

2. Wylan is a foreign name or he’s a Tragedeigh child.

Explanation below:

Daddy

Right before Jesper and Wylan meet Alby Rollins, Jesper finds a child's drawing labelled “Daddy.” In Kerch the word uses 3 distinct D letters, one of which is attached to the vowel. And bizarrely at the end of the word, the letter J/Y. The English translation is literally labelled beneath it so we know exactly what it says.

But according to the two alphabet charts here, there is no Y vowel in the Kerch language. The Y is given a J sound, (as in Jan Van Eck pronounced as Yan Van Eck) which makes sense given the Dutch influence on Ketterdam.

So Alby’s drawing says, “Daddya.” Daddy in Dutch is Papa, according to my nifty translation app. Where does Daddya come from? Either Daddya is a Kaelish pronunciation given the Rollins' Kaelish heritage despite it being spelled in Kerch, or the show made a mistake.

I think the J/Y letter may have been used to keep the same number of letters to make the connection between Kerch Daddy and English Daddy the same for the audience to quickly make the connection.

However, in Kerch the word Daddy should be spelled as “Daddee” with the hard E vowel attached to the last D consonant.

(When ranting about this to my husband, he listened to this entire spiel, then asked quite confused, “Who’s calling who Daddy in this show? That sounds more like a fanfic thing rather than something from canon...” 🤣 Saints, I love that man.)

2. Now let’s talk about Wylan’s name because it fascinates me.

There is no hard I vowel in the Kerch language. It just doesn’t exist. There is a hard A, E, and O, but no hard I. The name Wylan (pronounced Why-lan) cannot be written in Kerch.

Matthias’s name cannot be spelled in Kerch either. But that’s ok because he’s not from Kerch. He’s from Fjerda, where presumably, he can spell his name in his native language. Because it would be very silly to give someone a name that is unpronounceable in their native linguistic system. Right?!?

Except Wylan is as Kerch as Kerch gets. His family is old money with strong roots to the country and culture.

So what happened?

Maybe the name Wylan comes from one of the other cultures, Fjerdian or Kaelish. We don’t know much about Marya Hendricks/Van Eck and her family/cultural roots, but we do know that book Wylan inherited her red hair. So maybe somewhere in her family tree there’s Kaelish ancestry. Or she just really liked a Kaelish or Fjerdian name enough to give it to her son.

This explanation makes the most sense, but at the same time, I can’t imagine Jan Van Eck, a man so concerned with family legacy, not choosing a Kerch name for his oh-so-important heir.

So consider this alternative explanation: Jan Van Eck just sucks as a human being and gave his son a Tragedeigh name. AKA a name that is spelled and or pronounced nonsensically enough it makes you want to pat the kid on the back and legally help them change their name to something less awful.

For the record, I think Wylan is a lovely name. But it doesn't make sense as a Kerch name given how it uses sounds/letters not in the language.

Wylan’s name could still be pronounced as Why-lan and still written as Way-lan in Kerch. Or Will-lan, or even Wee-lan. We don’t know because we didn’t get to see it in show. There’s no hard I and some vowel needs to be used!

So Wylan was that kid who spent his entire life correcting everyone on how to say his name. Because his name was spelled one way but pronounced another. It’s simultaneously hilarious and tragic. The idea that his family was so wealthy that they gave him a special, nonsensical rich person name. And because Wylan can’t read he has no way of knowing why everyone says his name wrong if they see it written first. Ghezen, he'd be exhausted correcting everyone who met him.

Absolutely headcanoning that Jan Van Eck tried yet another way to screw Wylan by giving him a ridiculous name that can't even be written in Kerch.

[stardust-sunset]

maybe i’ll draw this later but i thought i’d share some mythical being au with yall (keep in mind this is a mythical au so i don’t really bother with realism lmfao)

I think Mrs Curtis would be a nymph-I head anon she was a nature lover who was soft but had a bit of a bite to her. Maybe a forest nymph-I have an idea in mind where she kinda has a “true form” that was really big (think greek god?) since she was kind of a forest protector in a way? It’ll make more sense when I draw it tbh

Mr Curtis was a gargoyle. In my headcanon I think Mr Curtis was this huge, scary looking guy but he was absolutely just a goofy sweetheart under all of that-he was pretty big too but not in the same way-he was bat like in a way? He had huge bat wings and claws and such but underneath all that he’s just a silly guy

Darry is kind of like a centaur but instead of a horse it’s a gryphon-I think gryphons were fairly big so I think he’d be quite big too (weren’t there stories of gryphons being destroyers of cities? He’s that kind of big but he doesn’t destroy shit lmao-he uses his size to his advantage and it also helps him clear ways for new construction. Mr Curtis taught him how to fly too, also lions and eagles remind me of Darry so-he also has sharp teeths. Also instead of smacking Pony, simply because of his size I feel like he just…recklessly picked up Pony and squeezed him a bit too hard and only realized when he saw Pony struggling to breathe and that was when Pony ran away

Sodapop is a centaur. Pong said it himself that Soda reminds him of a palomino colt so of course Soda is a palomino-sometimes when he laughs he falls onto his back and just kicks his hooves lmao-also horses know how to walk as soon as they’re born so Soda was pretty much running around from the moment he was born. He takes great pride in his tail and hair and lets people brush it-girls flock to the DX just to brush his tail-sometimes he lets little kids braid it if they want too!

Pony is a cervitaur-basically a deee centaur. He’s an axis deer-they’re known for their speed and agility (they can run up to 45 mph and jump up to 6 feet high so this obviously helps him in track)-he likes to style his hair so his little antler nubs are showing but when his antlers actually grow he’s so prideful about it it’s not even funny. He’s kinda like bambi in a way, when he was a baby he had such a hard time walking and when he goes through growth spurts he does too-it’s also just funny because his name is Ponyboy and he ended up being half deer

I really like kraken Johnny-just Johnny being some gigantic creature but being the most quiet and nervous is just funny to me. His scales are valuable too so maybe that’s why he gets jumped a lot. I know Oklahoma isn’t known for its water sources but just pretend with me that there’s a huge lake somewhere that he just chills in-when him and Pony run away he swims in the river. He’s always dreamed of going to the ocean but he’s kinda just stuck in Tulsa. He’s fairly huge though so it can be tough, but he swims through rivers to get to where he’s going. Darry being the size he is even made a sort of moat leading to a lake by the Curtis place. (I know it’s not realistic but bear with me)

Dally’s a dragon for sure. He’s a shifter in a way? Like Mrs Curtis he has a true form and a semi human form, he’s a huge dragon though when he is in his true form and he’s definitely caused…a number of things (jails) to be burnt down. It got to the point that the west side had to haul in fireproof things because Dally would just try to escape. Johnnyme the only one who can stop him from burning things down and just spits water at him to make him stop (another reason Johnny is a kraken because opposites attract I guess-) but Darry also has to wrestle him sometimes because he’s sick of having to rebuild things Dally burnt down even if he does get paid. Darry’s basically Tulsa’s version of Fix It Felix lmao

Two Bit is an imp. I don’t know how to describe my thought process but he’s just an imp. He’s silly. He’s goofy. He does reckless shit-he’s just this little, nimble imp with dragon wings and horns-Imps aren’t evil, they’re just mischevious and like to play pranks. Just like Two Bit. He can be smooth when. he wants to be though. He likes to jab people with his horns. He’s just goofy like that. I feel like when he’s mad his voice kinda gets deeper since they technically are devils in a way-his teeth also get sharper and he has claws. His eyes kinda glow too and his pupils slit. It’s scary. Think do when he snapped at Johnny’s mom when he was in the hospital.

Steve is a werewolf. He’s got that dog in him 😔 I think he’s always have sort of wolfish features, like sharp teeth, kinda slit pupils, maybe he even keeps the ears and/or tail (this is a stretch but idk lol) but whenever it’s a full moon you’ll know it evacsue he’s gorging on all kinds of meats and his shifts can be rough. Especially the first few. I feel like if he’s really really REALLY emotional he’ll shift a little bit too? Like it’s not confined to just full moons but he can’t will himself to do it either if that makes sense. I just think this is cool

I dunno; what do you guys think?

[ryuichirou]

Replies

A lot of replies! A bunch about a Florid Prison Warden AU comic from yesterday, a couple about other fandoms, one about antis, a bunch of shippy stuff (Falena/Leona, Lilia/Silver), some spicy stuff etc.

Anonymous asked:

Prison Warden au is back!

Yes!! After almost a year... I am amazed that so many people remember this AU. Thank you...

Anonymous asked:

How long can Floyd possibly hide Riddle in his cell? Also, how did he knock him out to begin with?

Riddle is currently far away from the prison, he was knocked out pretty much for the entirety of Floyd’s escape and has no idea where he is. He is technically in a cell right now... but in a different kind of cell.

Knocking him out wasn’t that difficult, Floyd just went ahead and squeezed him very tightly~ Until Goldfishie fell asleep...

Anonymous asked:

So what will they do to Riddle now?

Anonymous asked:

So Riddle got kidnapped after Floyd escape? Now I wonder what happened.

Well, for now Riddle will stay at an undisclosed location in the middle of nowhere in some dark room, and Floyd will have to take care of him. How the turns have tabled, eh? Now Goldfishie is the one being locked up <3 These two will have a lot of fun during Riddle’s stay! And Riddle is going to end up being traumatised for sure...

But they probably won’t be able to keep him there forever, so who knows what will happen next?

Anonymous asked:

You have made Sukufushi art before??? Omg why was I not aware of this

Hehe yes!! It was ages ago, but I used to draw these two a lot. We didn’t post the majority of my jjk sketches though because we didn’t really post very often back then + didn’t think anyone really wanted to see them, which was kind of true lol

Anonymous asked:

I'm the one who asked about Bobobo.  It's a very silly, nonsensical, random show.  An evil empire is trying to make everyone bald and a man fights them with his armpit and nose hair.  There's also a guy who fights with farts.  It's been awhile since I watched it but I think there were a few serious, dark moments, though most of it's a lead up to a joke.  I wondered if you and Katsu would like it cause the reason I watched Gintama was cause it reminded me of it and iirc you've Gintama

Oh god, so it’s this kind of show (in a good way)!

Dark and heavy moments that are a lead up to a joke is honestly one of my favourite ways to treat comedy+drama, this is why we love Gintama so much (and also Osomatsu-san and also South Park lol). Bobobo really does sound like it has this same vibe.

I don’t know if we’ll watch it anytime soon, but I’ll definitely keep it in mind. Thank you, Anon!

Anonymous asked:

Regarding the sneezing HCs, do you think Malleus will spit fire and roast everything in front of him when he sneezes? Bro has pretty bad control over his magic after all LMAO

YES. THIS IS SUCH A GOOD POINT AND I DIDN’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT.

Hoo boy, just imagine Malleus feeling like he is about to sneeze and Lilia running from the other side of the dorm to grab his nose because he knows it never ends well.

Anonymous asked:

About the response talking about antis, yeah it's hard for me to look for fics and fanart because I'll often run into antis...

I feel like part of it might be that they don't look at who a game is for or what genre it is apart from RPG/visual novel/ect, I don't think they know what joseimuke is (and I'm a still lil confused on the target audience of those as well, but I think it's mainly women with a disposable income?) and they think the target audience's age = casts' age, so since the cast is teens, then it's for teens by their logic...even though shows like South Park exist and I ain't showing that to a young kid.

I'd like to give them the benefit of the doubt that they genuinely think they're helping people/doing good things/ect since a lot of them aren't adults, but I can't.  I just can't get that impression from them at all.  The "nicest" I can be towards them is that they're young and dumb and will hopefully grow out of it or they need therapy but can't get it for some reason and this a kind of cry for help

Let’s be honest: if they weren’t dicks about it, no one would even care. We all understand that people don’t like some things, and all of us don’t like certain categories of people in our own fandoms, this is just a human experience. Minding your own business is what matters, and this is what they can’t do.

The majority of them are young and dumb, and a lot of them will grow out of it (or switch their aggression elsewhere because they’ll lost interest in fandom stuff) though. Some won’t, but there always are immature people that are much older... this is where they’re coming from lol

Maybe some of them really do believe that they’re doing the right thing and genuinely don’t know better, but I think for a lot of them finding a convincing enough reason to shit on others is the entire point of fandom experience. So even knowing what joseimuke is won’t stop them, only them losing interest and moving away from these spaces will.

All we can do is shrug and wait... and block people left and right lol

Anonymous asked:

What kind of hentais does Idia read or know of? Does he play eroges? If so what kind?

I think Idia knows every single hentai there is, even if he hadn’t read/watched/played all of them. Alright, maybe not every single one, but quite a lot lol But at the same time, he strikes me as someone who would be into it art-wise and would legit watch porn for the plot. So his favourite eroges are the ones with engaging stories and good character writing... I guess asking for that from a hentai game is a tall order, but Idia would argue and rant about some of his favourite titles if he was told “it’s just porn”. It’s not just porn, it’s an entire experience, the buildup that makes the porn good!

I know a part of me wants to say that he would play “oniichan” kinds of games, but I think he would ironically stay away from those... it feels weird to him somehow... too embarrassing.

He also doesn’t mind really fucked up tropes and scenarios. He could look at a tentacle hypnosis scene or a scene where someone is pushing out an alien egg and say “heh classic”. Truly, the greatest enjoyer of art.

Anonymous asked:

Hello! So I’ve been wondering of all the TWST tops, who’s winning the girth-and-length off?

Personally it could go either for Jack, Rook or Sebek. the Octatrio kind of cheats tho? their merform could pull these off easily.

anyway very curious to hear your thoughts!

Anon, this is such a good answer and I agree with you, even though I did write a post about peen sizes at some point, and I had a bit of a different top3 lol

To us, the winner is Lilia both because we are very committed to this joke + apparently for bats dick-to-body proportions are insane, so I guess there is some meat (heh) to this joke after all.

The second one was Floyd, and I still think the Tweels are one of the hugest, but... Jack and Sebek are absolutely up there, and I think they’ll grow bigger and girthier. They’ll become the biggest ones in a year or two.

I agree that Rook is big, but I think Trey is longer than Rook while still being quite girthy.

I am also 100% sure Yana has a list for this that we will never see...

Anonymous asked:

Firstly, I’m new to your blog and I LOVE YOUR ART AND HCS SO MUCH! They’re beautiful and amazing and it’s incredible seeing a blog being so unabashedly problematic with no shame!

That aside, I’m not sure if you ever talked about him before, but what do you think about Falena. Specifically for Falena/Leona?

I’ve seen some works (all super incredible, of course) of Faleleo stuff in Leona’s perspective, so I was wondering how do you think Falena would be like in the situation he’s loving his little brother a bit too much? We all know Leona’s gonna be a tsun about it but what about niisan?

Anon! First of all, welcome and I hope you enjoy your stay. Second of all, thank you so much for appreciating our stuff and being supportive of our self-indulgent selves! lol

We love Falena/Leona in theory; we haven’t dived into them because we haven’t seen much of Falena + don’t care much for Leona. Still, we are 100% supportive of this ship! Every time we rewatch The Lion King, I get more and more into Mufasa/Scar...

Regarding your question, it’s interesting because I think the default really is to think that it’s Leona who is obsessive over Falena, and Falena might not even have a clue about it (or have a clue but still choose to be a proper future king instead of fooling around with Leona). But it’s entirely possible for him to also be very into Leona, it could even be more fun this way.

I feel like Falena has always been an adoring brother and Leona greatly underestimates just how much Falena loves him. Not only he worries about his future and cares about him (that’s a given), he also is genuinely impressed by his wit and intelligence; I wouldn’t be surprised if Falena talks about Leona all the time lol Maybe he gets as excited as Cheka sometimes, which is endearing at first, but then feels like Falena is um... a bit too much into him...

Falena also feels like someone who would rationalise his feeling by thinking that him being a king and having a wife and a son is one thing, but being with Leona is another thing, their private special thing that could actually still improve things for the entire Kingdom: if Leona is by his side and works together with him, they will be unstoppable. This is something that Falena wants the most... even if it’s just a way to justify his desire to have access to Leona (and his body) all the time. He needs to give Leona some attention, right? He wasn’t able to do it lately, right? This has to change.

I also wouldn’t be surprised if they had a bunch of “iffy” moments when they were younger. A sudden closeness during sparring, a hug that lasted longer than anticipated, a bite that was meant to be playfully teasing but ended up being too sensual and dominating. That tension existed for a very long time, and it only gets stronger with time.

Anonymous asked:

God... I am enraptured by Them. Completely obsessed with those first days Lilia started playing with Silver. You think he went slow with touches and inappropriate kisses, or just one day told him they're doing something new and put his whole dick inside him at once??? Silver couldn't have gotten so good at handling anything without trial and error... Have there been times Lilia overestimated him and left him overwhelmed and SOBBING sobbing, like he had to stop immediately or his kid wouldn't be the same person again kind of overwhelmed. Ughhhh I'm obsessed with them and their awful history

Anon, I am so happy you like these two this much. I feel like this awful history is such an obvious but tasty and amazingly working trope for them, it just works.

I guess it’s fair to say that Lilia went slow with his inappropriate behaviour, I honestly think that Silver didn’t even notice the switch, as if it was never there. He’s always been his father’s cute boy. Of course it’s just the way he remembers things... But he does remember the first time he had Lilia’s whole dick inside him!

But also yes, of course there had been a bunch of times when Lilia got too excited and overdid it with Silver. Even though Lilia did try to pace himself, I think he completely broke Silver all over like 10 times; and sometimes he is amazed that he turned out okay with what he went through. But he got better very fast! A miracle of true love <3